Lunara: The Original Trilogy

by Wyatt Davenport

  "A few more meters," she said.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Eamonn saw a debris field whirling toward her path.

  She accelerated, trying to outrun it, and the Protector matched her. Jan swooped closer to the surface, made it by just a hair, and then pushed back into her assigned targeting lane.

  Buckley rolled the Protector over and then through a hole that was barely larger than the ship. An amazing feat that Eamonn would have relished had he not been so focused on the shot.

  The targeting computer relayed a green state.

  Instantaneously, Jan fired the EMB missile. The streak of the afterburners clouded the space in front of them. Then there was a short flare as the EMB missile struck the side of Lunara directly in the center of her target location.

  Eamonn gasped as he thought the missile was a dud, but he was mistaken. A number of events took place all at the same moment that changed his mind; all the turret guns in that sector of Lunara shut down and stopped tracking their targets; the portholes in the targeted sector went dark, and the warning lights turned black; and the most spectacular sight was a blue streak of lightning splashing over the surface of Lunara and dissipating.

  After confirming her positive shot, Eamonn ordered Jan to clear out of the area.

  But she was too late in turning. A blackened chunk of debris slashed across her left wing. The jagged debris tumbled off the wing and slammed against her ship’s portside engine, causing her entire engine to stall, instantly.

  The starwing jerked to the side, thrashing her viciously back and forth.

  "My engine array has failed," she radioed to him. "My attempt to attain a level pitch control overloaded the engine mounts’ already fragile state."

  She drifted away from the moon into the middle of the battlefield.

  "She is dead in space!" Eamonn shouted toward his pilot. He rubbed his neck free of sweat. "Get under her so she can reattach."

  He tapped on his input panel and called up her ship. "Jan, we are coming to get you."

  "That’s a negative," she radioed back. "It’s too dangerous to reattach in this firefight. Give me some protection. I think I can restart the starboard side engine."

  "Absolutely not. I can’t leave you there to die."

  "I can’t let you become another sitting duck. You are on the Protector, the fastest ship in the fleet. They need you," Jan radioed back. She paused. "If they think I’m dead, I can hide better than if you come over to rescue me. My engines will need to recharge, so I will power down, and they will think I am drifting. Keep the fighters occupied so our cruisers get some breathing room."

  He gritted his teeth, releasing the last of his urge to rush in and save Jan. He had to trust she could recover her ship, and with a pair of MSA fighters bearing down on his location, he had no time to waste. "Buckley! Keep those fighters occupied."

  "No problem, sir." Shannon Buckley pushed forward on the stick and headed straight for Lunara in an attack run, pulling the MSA fighters along with them. The Protector shuddered as a series of missiles exploded from behind.

  He had a bad feeling about ordering Buckley to head straight toward Lunara, especially looking down the barrel of about fifty gun turrets. He had to lessen the attention they were generating. He dropped several tracers behind them, causing a cascade of explosions and clearing the space in front of them.

  His plan worked. The tracers had fooled a group of turrets along the western perimeter of Lunara into shooting at the chaotic scene. The MSA fighters peeled off from their close pursuit to dodge the tracer’s explosions and the turret’s fire.

  The Protector surged ahead.

  "I’m going to buzz the tower," Buckley said. "That will draw some fire."

  "Isn’t drawing fire what you are already doing?" The straps of his seat belt dug into his shoulder as Shannon Buckley banked the Protector hard to the port side. "I told you to keep them occupied, not occupy them with our death."

  "Hold on," Buckley said.

  He dug his fingers into his arm supports.

  The Protector barrel-rolled, skirted between two missiles, and ducked down toward the lunar surface to avoid the incoming fire from the turret guns of the MSA fighters. "Lunara’s missile systems are still up. Relay that to the transport. Keep low, very low," said Buckley.

  "The missile system uses a different power source," he said, gritting his teeth. "Keep close to Jan. I want her covered."

  "I’m trying!" Buckley shouted back. "Keeping us alive is hard enough."

  "The transport needs our help in about one minute," Fenor Davis said. "If Falloom can’t get those engines started, we will have to leave her."

  "Relay the information." Eamonn flinched. Out of the corner of his eye, a flash of light scorched the sky. "Buckley, watch out!"

  Chapter 38

  "Where are we going?" Seth shouted, following Gwen Arwell and her troops through the endless security center hallways with Chloe in his arms. Terror squeezed his heart as capture seemed imminent around each corner. "The elevator was back the other way."

  Gwen stopped again and peered cautiously around the next corner. "To the cliff side transport pads," she said. "A ship is waiting to take us off the planet. Stopping at the corner and peering around, she signaled with her hand that it was clear, and they moved through the hallway.

  "Put me down," murmured Chloe. Seth paused for a moment before continuing. "I think she’s coming back to us," he said.

  "She will come back swiftly when the drug takes effect," Gwen said and pointed down the hallway. "The landing pad is through those doors."

  "Doesn’t look too far—"

  The wall behind him cracked and sparkled, and Seth heard gunshots pop. He swiveled around to see Gwen fall to the floor. He thought she had been shot, and his feeling of dread almost paralyzed him.

  "Get down," she groaned, grabbing at his hip.

  He let Chloe’s legs slip out of his left arm, and they both slid to the floor behind the wall.

  He heard shouts from the MSA soldiers, and beside him, Gwen pulled her knees up against her chest and squeezed as close to the wall as possible.

  "Surrender!" several MSA soldiers bellowed between gunshots.

  The urgency of their request was lost on Seth, while Chloe’s glassy eyes hardened, trying to focus on the environment around her. Suddenly, all her muscles stiffened.

  "Chloe," Seth said. "This is no time for sleep."

  Her eyes sharpened, as though suddenly recognizing him. "Where am I?" she muttered.

  "We left the lab."

  Chloe came alert. "I’m a little dizzy, but I think I can walk."

  BOOM! A blast came from behind them, and they all put their hands to their ears.

  Gwen yelled toward the Zephyrian troops following them, "Eyre, any smoke bombs left?"

  "No, only a flasher," the guardsman replied.

  "That will have to do. They are coming in from behind us," Gwen said, reaching over Seth and Chloe and taking the flasher. "Once I trigger this, close your eyes. When the charge flashes behind your eyelids, get up and run for the door." Gwen pointed down the hall to the landing platform entrance.

  "Do you have a pistol?" Seth said. He turned to Chloe. "Hold my hand, if you get lightheaded, enjoy the ride."

  Gwen reached down her leg, pulled out a small pistol attached to her calf, and handed it to him. "It has twelve shots in it."

  "That should be enough," he said. "Chloe, you ready?"

  "I’m fine." Chloe’s knees buckled as she tried to rise to her feet. "Give me your hand."

  He grabbed it firmly. "Throw out the charge."

  Gwen signaled her troops, and she rolled out the flash grenade into the hallway. They all closed their eyes and listened as the metal sphere scraped along the floor.

  The moment seemed to last an eternity to Seth. In that amount of time, the troops could have walked up, turned off the grenade, and shot them. However, in fact, only two seconds elapsed before a light burst through his eyelids.
Seth opened his eyes instantly and pulled Chloe across the hall, following closely behind Gwen.

  He took a quick glance to the side. The MSA troops had their eyes covered, shielding them from the light. Seth raised his gun and fired a series of shots into the crowd, moving them back.

  The MSA troops returned fire.

  Balls of flashing light pulsed through the smoke, and then drawn out like pen on paper, long blue streaks pushed their way toward him—

  Amazing. The world slowed down for him. Each bullet crept toward him. Bullets, normally too fast for him to catch, were in his control. He controlled the world . . . he could avoid the bullets . . . he could do just about anything within the time sphere. How had this happened? For how long?

  Using all his upper arm strength, he pulled on Chloe’s arm, slid her feet from under her body, and flung her down the hallway at a blazing speed.

  He caught up to Gwen with ease.

  Her face contorted into a queer expression. She must have realized that she hadn’t fooled the MSA troops for long enough.

  He had her covered and knew that her concern was unwarranted. He picked her up and in the same motion jumped with her in his arms and slid across the floor.

  The instant he realized they were safe, time returned to normal. The bullets pattered ineffectively high off the wall behind them.

  He and Gwen slid to the other side of the hallway, crashing into the wall with a thud. With a twist, he drew his gun and pointed it toward the vacated hallway, seeking out any enemy following behind.

  "How did you know the bullets were going to hit there?" Gwen said.

  "I slowed them," he said, moving Gwen against the wall.

  Chloe kneeled beside Gwen.

  He grabbed Chloe by the arm. "Are you okay?"

  Chloe nodded. "You slowed them?"

  "The world slowed down," he said. "I had the same experience when the cargo bale was about to fall on Gwen. I was faster than regular time for a moment. That’s what it felt like, anyway."

  "You are scaring me," Gwen said.

  "Where are the Zephyrian troops? Why didn’t they follow?"

  Gwen shook her head. "They weren’t supposed to follow. They are sacrificing themselves for me. My guards will hold the troops until we take off."

  "I can’t allow them to sacrifice themselves for us," he said firmly.

  "You have no choice. The transport only holds three people and they won’t board if we aren’t on. They won’t leave until we are safe. We must escape! Now!"

  The holoimage of the battle situation frightened Sarah, and Eamonn could see through the viewscreen that she pulled on all her diplomatic training to stay stolid. The fleet had lost the Barracuda in a terrific hellfire only a moment ago, and the unoccupied MSA cruiser was currently headed straight for the transport ship.

  "Sarah, we have to get to that cruiser before it can get to our transports," he said.

  "We are too far away," Sarah replied. "Don’t we have enough to worry about?"

  An MSA fighter buzzed the Protector's bridge.

  Eamonn flinched. "We all have more than we can handle."

  "I think we can cut the cruiser off at full speed, but it will—" She stopped her excuse short and turned to her pilot. "Cut that MSA cruiser off. Now!"

  "Lady Cortez, we don’t have enough repulse power to stop before we crash into the surface," the pilot replied. "The MSA cruiser has position on us."

  "Pilot, do as ordered," Eamonn said. He knew Sarah had committed the ship to destruction. It was the only way to get the transports to Lunara at this point, and he had to back her up.

  "The moon is too close!" the pilot screamed.

  Sarah said to Eamonn, "I don’t care if we stop or not. We have to give the transports a chance. We already have one transport slowed due to engine failure. We can’t allow them to destroy the other. Lunara depends on us."

  Eamonn made out no further objections. He left the Unity to its destiny, turned the viewscreen off, and watched. The Unity came about and accelerated on an intercept course. The stellar game of chicken was about to be lost by both parties.

  Sarah did as he instructed and didn’t give up any position; and the MSA captain didn’t think the Alliance vessel would continue forward to its imminent destruction, and he accelerated even faster toward the transports.

  When they collided, the MSA captain’s crafty evasive maneuvers lessened the impact from a direct blow. Unfortunately for him, he chose a downward trajectory, and the ship nosedived toward the lunar surface with no hope of avoiding impact. The impact slowed the Unity enough to turn its belly toward the surface.

  Eamonn grabbed his chair, bracing as if he was about to collide with the lunar surface. He thought of Sarah’s brave sacrifice, in battle and in forming the Alliance, and if fate were unkind, she would soon rejoin her slain family.

  Right after the transport attached the final docking clamps to the access terminal on Lunara, Parker rocked gently back and forth. The impact of the MSA cruiser colliding with the moon rippled across the powdery surface. He pressed his face against the porthole. The last of the Unity crashed in a cloud of dust and dirt that bulged high into the air and mushroomed out from the ship.

  "Sarah!" he shouted.

  A yank on his collar pulled him, and he tumbled into the familiar white and gray corridors of Lunara. This was the time to avenge Roche’s and now Sarah’s death.

  Chapter 39

  The battle for Lunara continued. Chunks of metallic debris from the space above Lunara rained down on the surface of the moon. Gravity had pulled some of it while other jagged shards were on a destined course to the colony. The debris hacked and slashed the once pristine buildings into a tattered, scarred mess. The structure shrieked as each small piece drummed like hail and each large chunk smashed as if a wrecking ball had hit them.

  The fierce battle moved inside the colony. Parker and his troops had managed to move all the way up to sector W4 over the past hour since he boarded the station, the Unity crashed into the surface . . . and Sarah died.

  The residents of Lunara kept irritating the MSA soldiers. Many men and women from the colony joined the Alliance’s side in the fight. Some had even rushed at the MSA troops armed with nothing more than a table knife. Behind the lines, boys and girls became runners to bring fresh water and munitions to replenish the effort. The fighting of his troops, coupled with those who were from Lunara, was a hopeful sign to Parker.

  The bulk of the MSA manpower was held up inside the main security center, only fifty meters from where he and his troops were stopped. The MSA troops had caught them in a stalemate for the last fifteen minutes, and Parker’s ordered attempts to move forward had failed more than once. All he had planned and hoped for was gone because of one lousy door designed to keep the bad guys out of the command room. The irony of it taunted him: the bad guys relaxed on the inside while the good guys fought to the death on the outside to get in.

  On top of this, he couldn’t get Sarah out of his mind. The nature of their love had come from opposite sides of the universe; his refusal to allow anyone inside his personal circle denied him love, scared of what others might see within him, while she never allowed anyone inside because of the intense social dynamics of her colony, an obligation to it born out of birthright. Perhaps their love had blossomed so quickly because the polarization attracted each other.

  Sarah died, though.

  He shook his head in disgust, almost vomiting with revulsion at the thought. He forbid his mind from accepting her death yet, for fear of becoming so despondent that he would be useless in helping Lunara.

  "We can’t find a way through the doorway," the platoon lieutenant, Jaffer, said.

  "You’re right," he agreed. "There is no way past it with those troopers pestering us."

  "They’re backed up, but the tunnel leading up is too narrow for us to enter without being caught in a hopeless funnel of weapons fire."

  Parker’s eyes opened wide. "We’ll have to move the
m the MSA way . . . with surprise and maybe a little deceit. If Eamonn can keep the forces outside busy long enough, we will get in."

  Jaffer conferred with his other officers for a moment, gathering as much data about the area as he could. The officers looked puzzled and said something to him. He rechecked the map handed to him.

  "We are in this position here." Jaffer pointed to a junction on the map. "If we send someone up the ducts to this access point, we will be able to drop a few smokers on top of them. We’ll blind them for few minutes, enough time for a rush attack."

  "No one can fit in those ducts," Parker objected. "They are no more than a half meter wide."

  "A child could."

  Parker shook his head. "You want to risk a child’s life?"

  "I’m afraid we have no other choice," Jaffer said sternly, mixed with the fright of desperation.

  Before Parker could object again, Jaffer scampered down the corridor toward the back of the line. He spoke with a group of boys holding munitions and returned with one of them. The boy was no more than ten years old. Without conferring further with Parker, Jaffer explained to the boy how to use the smoke bomb.

  Parker wanted to object, but they had no other way to push farther up the tunnel. The MSA had it fortified completely.

  The boy tightened his chin, trying to seem grown up and confident . . . but his knees wobbled and his hands trembled. The boy was terrified.

  "What is your name?" Parker asked, bending to one knee.

  "Harry Corvo."

  "My name is Parker McCloud." He pointed toward the vent. "It is cramped in there. Do you think you can handle that?"

  "I . . . I can do anything," Harry replied. "They killed my parents . . . I will have my revenge."

  "You know this is dangerous. You could die."

  "Yes," he said. "I don’t care." He turned away from Parker and stepped toward the opened duct.

  Jaffer patted the boy on the head and stuffed him into the duct, closing the vent behind him.

  Parker moved up to the vent. "Stay as quiet as possible. They might be able to hear you if you move too fast or too loud."