by C M Benamati
Mog checked his armrest’s status display. They had destroyed half of the Ta’Krell light cruisers. With their hyperdrives back, the Maurian force seemed an even match for the remaining Ta’Krell.
He grimaced as the lead Ta’Krell cruiser shot upwards in front of his ship, pounding the Narma Kull at point blank range. It was followed by a volley of blue plasma bolts from a pursuing Maurian frigate. Meela groaned and slammed her controls, sending the Narma Kull into a dive to avoid colliding with the frigate.
“Target destroyed.” said Nali.
“Good job,” said Mog. “Now turn us back towards our new friends and find another target. Keep them off of that ship.”
“Yes sir,” said Meela.
She flipped them around and burned the engines hard, slowing their negative velocity, until the newcomer’s vessel was growing larger again on the viewscreen. It was badly damaged. Although Mog didn’t know anything about the people manning that ship, they had earned the right to be called friends.
The new ship fired a volley of projectiles, striking the nearest Ta’Krell cruiser in the side. The kinetic energy of the blast nudged the enemy ship off course, sending it directly in the Narma Kull’s path. Nali didn’t hesitate to send two torpedoes and a volley of transplasma into the Ta’Krell cruiser as it flew past.
There was a brilliant flash that washed out the viewscreen.
“There goes another one,” said Ryal.
The newcomers had detonated another warhead. The previous two nuclear explosions had done little against the shielded Ta’Krell warships.
“They scored with that one,” said Nali.
“They got a cruiser?” said Mog.
“No, they detonated some sort of shrapnel bomb in the middle of one of the Ta’Krell fighter squadrons. The blast disabled all eight fighters.”
“Blowing up fighters isn’t going to win this for us,” said Mog.
“We just lost another frigate,” said Ja’tar. “Sledgim ground command reports enemy fighters have entered the atmosphere. They’re bombing the surface installations.”
Mog snarled. He wished they still had an operational fighter wing. Nothing we can do. Just keep fighting. The Narma Kull lurched upward, and the edge of Mog’s armrest jabbed into his side.
“Ventral shields buckling,” said Nali. “We’ve got two ships and a wing of fighters attacking our belly.”
“Everyone hold on,” said Meela.
Mog wasn’t sure what felt worse: Meela’s roll or the subsequent impact from the Ta’Krell’s second volley.
“Sir,” said Nali. “Small craft launch detected.” She pointed at the screen. “It’s them.”
Eight sleek gray craft shot out of the strange vessel one by one. Mog swiveled around. “Ja’tar, tell our fleet to check their small targets. They’ve got friendlies.”
“The Ta’Krell fighters are moving to intercept,” said Nali. “Hold on, they’re launching something else. They look like boarding craft! They’re heading towards the alien ship.”
“Intercept them at all costs” said Mog. We can’t let the Ta’Krell capture that vessel.
Chapter 27
Morgan’s legs burned from trudging through the high gravity. They had passed two escape pod tubes but each had been empty. The first time it had happened he feared the ship was completely abandoned. But then the acceleration alarm had sounded. Someone was still piloting the Sagitta.
Whatever was attacking had not given up. The acceleration warning came again. Morgan and Liz stopped running and grabbed the webbing that lined the corridor. The ship spun. Their legs whipped out, then came crashing down as the ship resumed straight-line acceleration. Morgan could only imagine what the maneuver was for. Dodging some missile maybe. But who’s firing?
The deck lurched, and there was the sound of screeching metal. They whirled—a black spear protruded into the ruined corridor, perhaps four feet in diameter. Smoke billowed from beneath it. “Is that the nose of a ship?” said Morgan.
A panel in the side of the object detached with a hiss.
“Come on,” said Morgan, tugging at Liz’s arm.
She stood rooted to the spot. He followed her gaze, dread filling him as a hulking form squeezed through the opening. Two yellow eyes blinked at them through the haze.
“Move!”
Liz had come to her senses, and her shout broke him free. They ran. Behind came the sound of something scraping, like nails on a chalkboard.
Don’t look.
Morgan tried to move faster but the gravity was oppressive. It was like wading through molasses. He could feel those eyes boring into him. Any second now the nightmare would catch him.
They rounded a corner and stopped in front of familiar orange doors, the lettering barely visible in the emergency lighting: ‘Hangar Bay 1’. Beyond, the way was blocked by fallen stiffeners and twisted wiring from the deck above. Trapped.
Liz slammed the doors with her fist. “Hey, open up in there.”
No answer.
A bone-scraping noise came from around the corner. Goosebumps rose on Morgan’s skin. He sniffed. There was something foul in the air. It smells like wet dog.
There must be a way in! He spotted a raised glass plate, barely visible in the weak red glow from the emergency lights. It was a handprint scanner. He pressed his moist palm against it.
Red letters flashed across the glass: ‘Access Denied’.
“Morgan,” hissed Liz. “It’s here.”
Hair standing on end, he turned. The beast loomed before them, shrouded in darkness. The back of its head pressed against the ceiling. Its eyes were all-consuming fire.
There was a clang and a hiss as the hangar entrance parted, filling the corridor with a shaft of light. “Get down!” roared a voice.
They dropped. The next instant, the corridor rang with the bark of an assault rifle.
“You two, get inside.”
A big man stepped into the corridor, shielding them. Tendons bulged in his neck as he fired into the darkness where the alien had vanished. “Wally ain’t scared, you hear me? I dare you to show your face, dog!”
A green blast lanced out of the darkness and slammed into the man’s chest. He was wearing a shield vest, which flashed white and overloaded. The big man grunted and stumbled backwards, his uniform smoldering.
Liz and Morgan tumbled sideways into the room. The man fired again, and the monster screamed. It was unlike any scream Morgan had ever heard, and it chilled his blood.
Their savior ejected his spent magazine and jumped through the doors. “Computer, seal the hangar.” A force field flared up, reinforcing the doors as they closed. “That should hold it.” He fed a new clip into his rifle. “I’m Wally Brooks, Hangar Technician First Class. Who the blazes are you?”
They introduced themselves as best they could, considering the ringing in their ears.
“So you’re the civilians we picked up earlier? What were you doing out here?”
“It’s a long story,” said Morgan. “What’s attacking us?”
“I have no idea.” Wally looked down at his smoldering uniform. It had burned through in places. His brown skin was blistered and oozing beneath. He tore his spent shield generator off his belt and tossed it across the hangar bay. “You saw the thing, what would you say it was?”
Morgan said nothing. He didn’t especially want to think about it.
“There was another one of us,” Liz cut in. “His name is Victor. They took him to sickbay. Have you seen him?”
“Afraid not. He probably got off already. A bunch of people did, although I heard the buggers are shooting at the life pods.” Liz looked horrified. Wally didn’t seem to notice. He indicated the doors, which were starting to glow red behind the force field. “We should get out too.”
“You’ll help us?” said Morgan.
“Of course. I’ve been guarding this hangar since our flyboys left. I was hoping the rest would show up but that won’t happen now.”
The p
aint on the inside of the entrance door started to bubble, and the force field flickered. “How do we get out?” said Morgan. “All the escape pods were launched.”
Wally pointed at the fighters. “How else?”
The fighters they had arrived in were still here, off to the side. Morgan took a step towards them. “Of course! We can escape in those.”
“Escape?” said Liz, her face hardening. “No way. We’re not going to run. We’re going to fight.” She pointed at the other row of Fireflies. Four armed ships remained.
“Are you nuts?” said Wally. Morgan agreed with him but didn’t say anything.
“I might be. But Victor’s out there in an escape pod and he needs help. Morgan, come on, we’re going.”
Is Victor all she cares about? It didn’t matter. They were out of options, and a starfighter was much better than a life boat. Assuming I can fly it. Jack had made it look easy. How hard could it be? “Alright,” he said. “I’ll try.”
Wally grunted. “I don’t care what you do once you’re out. We’re all probably dead meat anyway. Each of you just pick a ship and power it up. There are HUD goggles in a compartment under the dash. Put them on. I’ll hold this position while you get in.”
“You know how to fly?” said Liz.
“Enough to move the ships around the bay.” He turned and headed for a control panel. “Use the goggles, they have a training mode. Now get gone before this bugger shows his ugly face.”
They sprinted across the hangar, passing the unarmed ships they had arrived in. Had Jack and Yin escaped with two of the Sagitta’s fighters? They hadn’t been with the pilots that had passed them in the corridor. Morgan desperately hoped so.
The Sagitta shook from another blast.
“Quick,” said Morgan. “Let’s take this one.”
Liz shook her head. “Let’s take two. Better odds. We can work together, cover each other.”
Morgan wanted to tell her no. I need you with me. Please. But her face said she wasn’t taking no for an answer. “I don’t know,” he stammered. “If we just took one, then at least—”
“You can’t both fit!” shouted Wally. They turned to look at him. “The Sagitta’s Fireflies are one-seaters. If you want to fight, you take two birds out. Only way to go out together is if you take one of the unarmed trainers you came in on.”
“See!” said Liz.
Morgan gulped. That settles it then. “Ok, but Liz, I wanted to say, I never got to tell you—”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “Tell me later when this is over.” She had tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry about this whole thing.”
Morgan hugged her. It’s me who should be sorry. “Good luck.”
“You too.”
He let her go as the hangar entrance door collapsed into the force field.
“Go, you idiots!” shouted Wally.
They raced up to the nearest ships, kicking the ladders away when they got to the top. Morgan dashed across the wing of his ship and onto the fuselage. The canopy slid back when he touched it. He jumped in. There were dozens of toggles and knobs, along with blank touch-screen control panels and de-energized holographic emitters. What do I do?
Below them, Wally was scampering away from a control panel on the port side of the hangar deck. Something in the ceiling moved. Morgan looked up. Two machine guns slid out of recessed ports and turned to aim at the hangar bay entrance. A second later, as the force field winked out, the guns bellowed, sending round after round into the corridor.
Morgan shut the canopy, hoping Batson hadn’t been lying when he said you didn’t need implants to fly. He spoke on a whim. “Computer, start Firefly.”
There was no response. He hadn’t expected one. He scanned the cockpit. It would be something obvious. It must be. There! A row of red toggle switches. He didn’t bother reading the labels, but flipped them all at once. The cockpit lit up like a Christmas tree.
Liz must have found the controls for the running lights, because strong floodlights ignited under her wings.
The com crackled to life.
“You guys there?” said Wally.
“I hear you,” said Morgan.
“Yes,” said Liz.
“Get those goggles on. They’re under the dashboard.”
It took Morgan a moment to find them. He pulled them over his eyes just as the lights in the hangar went out. The racket from the machine guns died, and for a moment Morgan was weightless. Sagitta’s engines are out. Then, with a lurch, gravity returned.
“Power’s failing,” said Wally. “Quick, hit the button on the top right of the goggles.”
Morgan did so.
“Just look at the controls,” said Wally. “The heads-up display labels stuff. Blink your left eye twice when looking at a specific item for more info. Blink your right eye twice to clear the display.”
Morgan looked down at the control stick and blinked his left eye twice. Tags popped up indicating which triggers did what. Way too much info. He cleared the display, then looked ahead at the hangar bay’s open space doors. The opening was a dark hole surrounded by the faint glow of the force field emitters. At least that force field is still working.
Something was moving below. He squinted into the deep shadows in the corner of the bay. One shadow in particular seemed darker than it should. We’re not alone.
“Use repulsors to get out of the bay,” said Wally. “It’s the little lever next to the main throttle.”
Morgan found it and pushed it forward. His ship rose on a shimmering blue energy cushion. Liz’s ship was already in the air, and Wally’s soon joined them. Morgan grasped the control stick, keeping his fingers off the triggers, and gave it an experimental nudge to the side. His ship moved a few inches closer to Liz’s fighter. He twisted the stick, and his ship rotated a few degrees. Ok, this is pretty easy. He let go of the stick when he had it lined up with the bay opening.
“Nice work,” said Wally. “Now, edge the stick forward. Let’s get the heck out of here.”
Morgan nudged the stick forward and he began to cruise across the deck. He tried to remember the other things Jack had told him. Strap in, kid. He did so as he glanced around the hangar. The figure was gone. Where is it? What is it doing?
“Alright,” said Wally. “Here we go.” He glided out of the bay. Liz followed. Her ship hung for a moment, framed by the force field generators before an infinite backdrop of black nothingness. Then its repulsors lost their grip on the Sagitta and she dropped out of sight as if she had gone over a waterfall.
Once, long ago, Morgan had nearly wet his pants when riding in the bow of his grandfather’s little wooden boat. The ocean had stretched out before them, and all Morgan could think about was what it would be like to topple over the side, to succumb to the cold grip of the Atlantic.
His grandfather’s words echoed in his mind. People fear what they don’t know. Today, I’m going to make you a fish.
“I’ve done this before,” he muttered. “I can do it again.” Out you go, little fish. Summoning all his nerve, he pushed the stick forward.
Something was wrong. Why was his ship leaning to the left? He looked over.
A shaggy, black-furred monster was perched on the edge of the fuselage, its snout only an inch away from the canopy, its claws leaving thin scratches on the wing. Its breath had fogged the glass. Its pupils narrowed into slits as it opened its mouth, revealing razor-sharp fangs.
Morgan stiffened as something touched his mind. Cold, so cold. All the memories of his life flew past the alien’s demonic eyes, which burned into him.
He saw a Mickey Mouse clock on the nursery wall. A cake with three candles. His mother, smiling down at him, young and radiant.
More.
His childhood friends, Luke and Simon and Greg. They’d moved away years ago, leaving a hole he’d never filled. His old cat Daisy. She’d been dead nine years.
More.
His parents working in the lab. His grandfather’s funeral in Maine.
The day he drove the Scorpion for the first time. The day he met Liz. It was hot, under the Arizona sun, despite his refrigerated racing suit.
Where?
The question was strange. The voice in his head had asked it, yet it wasn’t his voice.
Where is this place? Where are you from?
“Arizona,” he said, his mouth moving automatically.
Where?
Earth hung in his memory as he’d seen it from space. He looked down at Arizona, then up. Everything zoomed out. There was Starlight Station, the Moon, the Sun.
Which star?
He didn’t know how to describe it. He gasped in pain as a top-down image of the Milky Way galaxy popped into his head.
Which arm? Which star?
“I don’t know!”
The creature roared. Then Die!
Morgan screamed, and his head snapped back. Outside the creature raised something to the glass. “Go baby go!” he gasped, slamming the main throttle forward. He was thrown back into the seat as backwash from the rockets lit the hangar bay up like day. Burning gas encircled the fighter as it shot forward. The creature howled, then toppled off the back of the wing.
“Morgan, are you ok?” said Liz, as he streaked out of the Sagitta on a plume of fire.
He didn’t have the strength to answer. It took all of his effort just to reach forward and drag the throttle back. He slumped against the seat back, breathing heavily. A shadow fell across him. He looked up.
The ship was huge. Silver-hulled, it was long and slender, with a dish-shaped forward section that melded into four wings in an X-configuration. Its gun ports flashed. He held up his hands as blue fire leapt towards him.
I’m still here! The alien ship wasn’t shooting at him. He looked around. There were other ships out there, more difficult to see. Their hulls were black and barely reflected the light from the distant sun. The silver ship was trading fire with two of the black-hulled vessels. “They’re fighting each other!”
“Yes!” said Liz. “That’s why we’re still alive. There are two sides to this battle.”
“Where are you guys?” said Wally.