The devastating display of force had certainly sparked fear in Rollock. "With that kind of firepower, they're going to tear us apart in no time!"
"Doubtful," Damien responded. "No normal power generator can contain that kind of energy on its own, not even the larger ones sold illegally on the black market. The only thing I can come up with is they obtained several such generators and rigged them together, but even then, a blast that big would drain at least two dozen generators to the coils. It will take them a while to gather that kind of power again."
Arus was still staring at the wreckage of the Aeden starcruiser when Damien finished. Finally, he asked, "So, what's our next move?"
This time, the response was immediate. "That battleship must be stopped."
While Damien called for support from one of the Alliance battleships, Arus took a glance at his starfighter's instruments. His shielding had fully recharged, and his fuel tank had only diminished by a quarter. Kitreena and Damien had been right; the simulator was a perfect match for the real thing. Still, the constant threat of destruction added an element that the simulator had never been able to reproduce. Not only that, but the ships he destroyed had been piloted by real people with real lives, and knowing that his actions had killed them tore a hole in his heart despite the fact that they fought alongside Kindel Thorus. That, perhaps more than fear, made the reality of piloting a starfighter much clearer to Arus. He'd enjoyed the simulator, enjoyed shooting down enemy ships, enjoyed flying missions against computerized enemies that tested his limits and pushed his reflexes. But there was no joy in downing real enemy fighters. He was killing people, to put it bluntly, and that was something in which he'd never find pleasure.
Kitreena's voice, clear as a bell, appeared in his head. How are you holding up?
I don't think I'll ever get used to killing, but otherwise I'm all right.
If someone can get used to killing, then there is something wrong with them. That's why we do what we do. It's our job to stop those people from hurting the innocent.
But that's exactly what Kindel claims to do. How are we any different from him, then?
Kindel enjoys killing. He revels in it, embraces it, and looks forward to it. His definition of innocent is limited only to those who bow at his feet. He claims to be a liberator, but he's truly an oppressor.
"All right," Damien's voice came back over the comm. "The Stardiver, the Azura, and Crimson Twilight are responding. We're going to split our team in two here. Doman, Samas, Orchi, Kit, and Arus will accompany me to the Black Eagle. The rest of you will be transferred to Captain Grut of the Azura. He is going to send additional starfighters and a few assault transports to join you in taking on the battleship. Nat, the Azura will be waiting for you to land so that you can get a new starfighter. I know several of you are rookies, but have faith in yourselves and in each other, and you will succeed. Are there any questions? All right then, everyone get moving, and good luck to you all."
The six ships ordered to Captain Grut's command immediately dropped out of formation and curved toward a starcruiser in the distance that Arus could only assume was the Azura. The remaining members of the squad tightened up as Damien went over the plans. "We're going to hang back here for a moment while the fleet gets into position. The Crimson Twilight will likely reach the Vezulian battleship first, and that will be our chance. While they're distracted, were going to slip past as quietly as we can and make for Kindel's ship. But until then, we're going to try to thin the enemy fighter presence out here. Let's get moving!"
The Aeden fighters scattered as each targeted an enemy and opened fire, lasers and missiles tearing through titanium in explosions of red and orange. More Vezulian ships entered the fray, no doubt seeking to avenge their fallen comrades. Across the battlefield, streaks of red and blue cut through the darkness of space where the two factions struggled for survival. From the surface of the planet, the battle likely resembled little more than a meteor shower to the naked eye, and neighboring galaxies were no doubt unaware of the conflict, but whether or not they knew what was transpiring, the outcome of the war between the Alliance and Armada would send shockwaves across the entire universe, the rippling effects of which would be felt even on seemingly insignificant worlds.
Arus brought his craft level with the battleship once more as his lasers destroyed another starfighter. Without warning, a missile smashed into the front of his craft, sending a ball of flame and debris rolling across the hull. Fire encompassed the ship in a instant, and Arus knew he was finished. The cockpit heated immeasurably as flashes of memories and hopes and fears and regrets flickered through his mind like the rippling pages of a grand storybook whose tale had never finished. Unsaid goodbyes to his mother, repeated apologies to Vultrel, it all welled up inside him in the blink of an eye. With his arms raised to shield his face, Arus waited for the end to come.
It never did. When he opened his eyes, he was still in the cockpit of his fighter, though the craft had sustained considerable damage. The forward laser turret on the port side had been completely destroyed, and the mechanism that had fastened it to the hull of the starfighter was now a melted lump of metal. Blackened scorch marks covered the front of the ship, including the lower portion of the glass hatch. The computer indicated that the blast had completely depleted the forward shields and disabled the port lasers—that much was obvious, of course—but other than that, the ship was still in good condition. The shields were already beginning to recharge, and the starboard turret was still online.
It had all happened in such a flash that the others were only just beginning to react. Not surprisingly, Kitreena's voice came first. "Arus! Arus, are you all right?"
Next it was Damien. "Arus! Can you hear us?"
Then Doman, though he sounded much more relaxed. "That was quite a hit, young man. Are you all right over there?"
Finally, Arus managed to clear his throat and respond. "I'm fine," he said. "Lost my port cannon, but other than that, I'm all right. What was that? My ship didn't warn me of any missile lock."
"Could've been a stray," Doman answered.
"When a pilot manages to gain enough ground on a missile, it loses its target and becomes just a blind warhead that keeps going in a straight line until it either runs out of fuel or hits something," Damien explained. "Radar doesn't pick them up most times because there is no lock; it's just a random missile."
I'm just glad you're all right, Kitreena said telepathically. Even her thoughts sounded shaken.
I'm fine, Kit. Don't worry about me. He hoped he didn't sound as relieved as he felt; she didn't need to know that he'd been all but certain that his life was over.
Damien's report interrupted them. "The Crimson Twilight is just about into position." Ahead, a large Aeden starcruiser was moving between them and the Vezulian battleship. The sight made Arus' hands shake; he half-expected the battleship to tear the cruiser in half as it had done moments earlier. "We're going to try to slip beneath both ships," Damien continued, "and head for the Black Eagle. The aerial battle is concentrated higher up, so we'll have a better chance flying underneath. However, once we get beneath the Crimson Twilight, there will be no room for retreat, so it will be all or nothing. If anyone else has other suggestions, they are welcome."
"That is the best option we have," Orchi or Samas said. "Either side will provide less surface area to shadow our movements from the Vezulian fighters, and the majority of the battleships weapons are fixed to its upper deck."
"Agreed," Doman added. "If we just make for the Black Eagle at full throttle, we may have a chance of making it."
"Then comes the obstacle of getting onboard," Kitreena muttered, "but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
Damien's ship pulled back into formation ahead of Arus. "All right, then. Form up. Once everyone is back in formation, we're off."
Samas and Orchi lined up to Damien's right, and Kitreena joined Doman ahead of Arus on the right. Damien gave the signal for an arrow formation
before kicking his engines back to full throttle, leading the squadron toward the lower hull of the Crimson Twilight. Lasers cut through space around them as Vezulian fighters attempted to pursue. The Crimson Twilight derailed their attempts with blasts from its rear cannons, providing enough cover for Damien's squad to fly beneath the cruiser. The enemy battleship came into view quickly, its countless turrets firing away at the Aeden starship. The cruiser returned fire, and Aeden starfighters launched missiles and lasers as they flew in repeated loops of attack. Vezulian fighters poured from the battleship's hangar and into space, creating a towering commotion of battle above the six Aeden fighters.
"By the Maker!" Arus muttered, unable to tear his gaze away. "It's all-out chaos!"
"Focus, Arus," Damien said firmly. "We must concentrate on what we have to do, or the chaos may never end."
Arus nodded and turned his attention back to the job at hand. The squad flew beneath the battleship with throttles pushed to the maximum, and soon they were staring at the Black Eagle. The battle had thinned in front of Kindel's ship as many of the Vezulian fighters had gone to the aid of the battleship, and that made it easier to approach the Armada's flagship.
"There's no way the Black Eagle's sensors haven't picked us up yet. They should start launching additional fighters any second now," Kitreena told them. "That will be our opportunity."
"Spread out," Damien ordered. "Choose a departure bay and line your fighters up with it. When they open up, make your move. But be careful; too much speed will send you crashing into the back of the bay. Too little will get you caught in the doors when they close again. You've all practiced this on the simulator, so I'm sure you're aware of the difficulties of this maneuver."
Arus followed the routine he'd developed during his time in the simulator, lining himself up with one of the departure bay doors and cutting his throttle to half. The Black Eagle remained strangely silent for an unguarded flagship. The six ships approached all but unnoticed until a sudden wave of laser fire began to pour from its surface turrets. As he had during his practice runs, Arus rerouted his laser energy to the fighter's shields and slowly began to do the same with his engines. A flickering blue glow surrounding the craft each time a laser collided with the shield, every blast weakening it ever so slightly. As the ship slowed further, he put more engine power into the shields, adding to their regenerative strength in a perfect balance that kept the starfighter's deceleration constant and the shields almost fully powered.
"Damien, why aren't they launching?" Kitreena asked. She made no attempt to hide her nervousness. "We're getting too close."
"If they don't, we'll have to swing around and—"
The next five seconds may as well have lasted fifteen years. The doors in front of Arus began to slide apart, revealing one of the Armada's square-shaped assault transports. That had not been something he'd ever encountered in the simulator before. Assault transports were both more durable and more powerful than the standard starfighter, but a great deal slower. Still, at such close range, speed was irrelevant. There was no time to ask for advice, no time to shout warnings, no time to flee. The transport opened fire immediately as it left the hangar, its four forward cannons pelting Arus' fighter with such intensity that each impact seemed to resonate through his chest.
In a panic, his thumb tapped the missile launch button several times, launching three warheads at point blank range. The transport tried to dive to evade the attacks, but it had barely begin to dip when the missiles pounded into the craft in a series of explosions that sent the entire thing up in a billowing wall of flame that engulfed both ships. Knowing he had to pull over the transport whether he could see it or not, he yanked hard on the control stick and then pushed it back to realign himself with the hangar. That was when the flames broke apart enough for him to see that the departure bay doors had begun to close. He panicked again, pushing harder on the foot pedals than he had intended and pulling them off of them just as fast. The fighter shot into the departure bay and screeched to a halt, its nose slamming hard into the far wall. A dull thud from behind told him that the doors had securely latched. Somehow, though he couldn't explain how, he'd made it.
And he suddenly realized he hadn't exhaled since the transport appeared.
With a sigh of relief, he set the fighter down gently and deactivated the engines. Blood surged through his veins with every heartbeat, and he nearly felt as though he might collapse on the starfighter's console in exhaustion. He couldn't fathom how Damien and Kitreena did this on a daily basis, though he knew he'd have to learn to manage the pressure if he wanted to be able to fight beside them. Until now, he'd only trained in fighting techniques and starfighter simulations; handling the immense stress and jittering nerves had never crossed his mind. Fear of being hurt or killed was always there, but it was never as real to him as it had been moments earlier. I have to be stronger, he told himself silently. Kindel will not have mercy on me just because I'm afraid. I have to do what must be done.
When he lifted his head from the starfighter's console—apparently, he had collapsed—he noticed that his ship had not been raised into the main hangar. The doors remained sealed overhead, and there was no indication that he was going to be permitted entry. It was to be expected, of course. Why would the Armada invite its enemies onto the flagship of the fleet? "Is anyone there?" he called into the communicator. "Did everyone make it onboard?"
Just a moment, Arus.
Laser fire erupted overhead, along with distant shouts and the trampling of feet. "What's going on up there?" he called. Telepathically, he tried to speak to Kitreena. Can you hear me? Is everyone all right?
Suddenly, his ship began to rise as the overhead panels slid away. Lasers sailed over the ascending fighter, and shouts turned to screams as men died. The implant's scanners showed about fifteen life signals on the far side of the hangar, and one more quite close to him. As he surfaced, his gaze fell on Kitreena, who stood at a control panel beside the docking bay. Across the way, the others were engaged in combat against the Vezulian hangar personnel. Arus popped the hatch open and leapt out, drawing his sword as his boots hit the floor. "Let's go," he said, sprinting toward the others. Kitreena was right behind him, whip in hand.
They were spotted quickly, and lasers darted toward them. The implant drove his arms with precision, whirling the sword around to meet every blast. His steel blade rang with each deflection, sending a spray of sparks into the air. As soon as he was close enough, he began cutting down soldiers. Every drop of blood made him wince, and every scream of pain twisted his heart. Master Eaisan had never said that doing the right thing was going to be easy, but he never told him that it would be so hard, either. "If any of you wish to surrender, drop your weapons and kneel!" he shouted, hoping some would listen.
It didn't take long for the Vezulian soldiers to fall, and soon the Aeden fighters found themselves alone in the hangar. Not one soldier had surrendered.
"Is everyone all right?" Damien asked, grabbing a fallen soldier's pistol.
Arus shrugged as he surveyed the hangar. "How did you guys get in? They locked me inside the departure bay."
"Damien blasted his way out," Kitreena said with a giggle. Her finger directed his attention to a gaping hole of twisted metal where an intense explosion had blown the floor panels apart. "He managed to get Doman's ship up while fighting the guards, and between the two of them, they brought in the rest of us."
"Now, we must do what we came to do," Doman said, brandishing jagged knives in both hands. "Let's find Kindel Thorus and end this once and for all."
Damien peered toward the connecting hallway. "I don't think he'll be on the bridge. All indications are that he's shut himself away from the rest of the crew. And since we don't know where his office is, or if he is even in his office, we should split up into pairs and start searching. Samas and Orchi, you two go together. Doman and I will be the second group, and Arus and Kit will be the third. If you find Thorus, do not confront him. Call us,
and we'll come to you. Any questions?" Samas and Orchi shook their heads, while Doman simply said nothing. "All right then. Avoid detection as much as possible, and make sure to clean up after any battles. We don't need anyone tracking us. Maintain communication silence unless you've got something extremely urgent to report. Move out."
The two dark-skinned women nodded at Doman, who bowed in return. There was a silent exchange there, Arus was sure, but he had no idea what it meant. The ladies turned and ran down the hall, their bare feet making almost no sound. Damien gave Kitreena a hug and Arus a pat on the shoulder before he and Doman headed off. When they had vanished around the corner, Kitreena turned back to the hangar.
"There might be some clues in here that we can use," she suggested. "We don't have access codes for the terminals, but maybe one of these soldiers has a code on them."
It seemed to be as good a place to start as any, though Arus wasn't particularly happy about the idea of rummaging through corpses. And there were other factors to consider. "Are you sure we should stick around here? They probably called for reinforcements when we blasted our way in."
"It's possible, but we won't stay long," Kitreena replied. "Besides, your scanners will tell us if anyone is coming, right? We should have plenty of time to hide before anyone shows up."
With a sigh of resignation, Arus slid his sword back into its sheath. "All right, let's check them out."
*******
"Keep the pressure on!" Muert shouted. "Give them everything you've got!"
The battle between the Kyrosen had escalated to unexpected levels. Somewhere along the way, each faction had separated across the middle of the cargo hold, men and women alike fighting hand to hand along the dividing line. Magical bursts of fire and electricity and raw energy sailed back and forth over the skirmish, exploding with enough force to throw bodies into the air. Still forms of the dead lie everywhere, some covered with fresh blood while others had simply been charred to a crisp. When Muert had first arrived onboard the Falcon Mist, he'd never expected that his desire to bring his wife and child to safety could've led to such carnage. As it was, he'd seen neither hide nor hair of his family since the battle had begun, and while he hoped that meant they had fled for safety, the uncertainty was eating away at him.
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