Lunara: The Original Trilogy

by Wyatt Davenport

  She groaned. Her head throbbed, just thinking about the Alliance.

  Footsteps approached, and she looked in the direction of the patter. Samantha must have heard her stir because she walked into the room moments later. Her hair was looped up into a bun, and her face remained unmoved. She had been busy with work.

  "How long was I out?"

  "Less than a day," Samantha said, and then, unusual for her, she stepped toward Gwen, jittering like a junior officer. Something was wrong. "The Alliance destroyed Delta fleet. I could do nothing to stop it."

  Gwen’s jaw tightened. "The Alliance fleet attacked us? How did they slip by our proximity sensors?"

  Samantha attempted to conceal her anger by speaking in a flat tone, but it seemed forced. "The Protector did it," she said. "By itself."

  A single ship destroyed the entire Delta fleet? Impossible! thought Gwen, but Samantha’s demeanor indicated there had been an utter disaster. "Are you going to tell me what happened or not?"

  "Delta fleet Commander Haney fell into a trap. They deployed their meteor netting and our ships were helpless to avoid it. Haney seemed to have been led into the trap without regard for the Protector’s special systems."

  "Seemed to have been led into?" Gwen said. It was an odd word choice by Samantha. She had always been exact when she gave her reports.

  "Because we only have eyewitness reports from the officers aboard the ships that survived. Unfortunately, Haney perished in the trap. I wanted to execute him myself for his failure."

  "It wasn’t his fault," Gwen said, and then paused for a long moment to gaze at her companion. "It was yours."

  "Mine?" she said, acting as if the accusation surprised her. "I was stuck on Orcus colony with Seth, who, by the way, allowed Chloe Jones and the rest of your crewmates from the Protector to escape. If that hadn’t happened, the fleet wouldn’t have been in the position it was. If you are to blame anyone, it should be him."

  "I’ll read the report. I’m sure I can find many people to blame. In any case, you were in the command of the mission, and you should have ordered Delta fleet into a better tactical position. Haney was unapprised of the Protector’s capabilities. You had knowledge."

  "How am I supposed to anticipate Eamonn Dalton using the netting against us? His desperation knows no limits."

  "Stop with the excuses. I’ll read the report later," Gwen replied. She squeezed her eyes shut to suffocate the pain in the back of her head. "Tell me what happened at the museum."

  Samantha let out a low rumble in her throat, an apparent attempt to convey her displeasure. Gwen looked at her, tempting her to speak again, but Samantha was smart enough to realize she could escape the blame later. As Gwen expected, Samantha retreated. "As you know, a ship took off from within the museum. A drone ship, unmanned, designed to carry cargo from Jupiter to Mars. They were put out of service with the advent of quickdrives and plasma shielding."

  "Who rescued me?"

  "After it departed, a security team in the area rescued you. They managed to pry open the secondary double doors in the restoration section of the museum and bring you to safety. You were lucky we got to you in time or else you might have died. You can thank Dakota Lars. If it had not been for her, you would look worse than you do."

  "You mean the frostbite?"

  Samantha nodded. "It covered most of your face, but it is clearing rather nicely now. With the nano-cellular cream Dakota applied, it should be gone by the end of the day."

  End of the day, Gwen thought. How could that be possible? Hans Bauer! Seth! "Where is the drone ship now?"

  "We don’t know at present, but it headed to an abandoned colony called Orcus. Seth mentioned he grew up there."

  "And Delta fleet followed them there and was destroyed in the ensuing fight?"

  "Not exactly," Samantha said. She went on to explain her mission with Seth from Phobos down to Orcus; how Seth had cowered behind the wall while they escaped; how she called Delta fleet to Orcus; and how much the Alliance gained from the attack.

  Gwen rolled her eyes when she finally stopped. "You had Parker and Eamonn, and you let them escape from Phobos. Why do I have bounties on Eamonn if they go unheard? It has been twice now that you let Eamonn escape because you wanted bigger fish."

  "Seth planned this one. We were aboard the shuttle to Orcus hoping to find Chloe Jones and Shannon Buckley and the rest of the Alliance. And we did, at least some of the Alliance."

  Gwen shook her head. "This is the last time I get knocked unconscious. Fools run the MSA when I’m away. This is a complete and utter disaster."

  "Yes, but not worthless," Samantha replied. "We did find out something."

  "Such as?" Gwen said.

  "We know they’re going to target the metalor shipment when it arrives later tonight. The fleets are working double time to secure the flight zone around Phobos."

  "Does the Alliance know the drop point will be Phobos?"

  "I don’t think so. I changed it from its original destination. The Alliance will have the older information from the initial flight plans. I suspect Ty Falloom initiated their plans to attack the shipment."

  "Ty."

  "It makes sense. He did help Eamonn and Shannon escape from Lunara. I suspect that is why he sacrificed himself."

  "Perhaps…" Her voice trailed off on purpose. "For now, I want you to keep Seth inside Zephyria. He can’t do anything rash until we destroy the Alliance. This is the final stance. The entire Alliance fleet will be needed to carry out an attack of this size. Once they discover they are walking into a trap, it’ll be too late, and we’ll crush their morale and with it the network the Alliance has set up."

  "That is my thought as well."

  "Gwen!" Seth shouted from the other room. A second later, he entered. "My informant has been active, and from the trace, he has to be within the fleet."

  She looked at Seth, relieved he was still with them. Every day, she expected him to up and leave the colony and return to Chloe. She dreaded it. "I don’t know if I trust this informant."

  "My informant told us about the base in the asteroid field and about Parker and Eamonn going to the shipyards on Phobos. Both were accurate."

  "Knowing who it is would put me at ease."

  "It isn’t important," Seth said. "I’m uncertain of who it is myself, but he contacted me specifically and has been nothing but reliable."

  The conviction behind Seth’s tone irritated Gwen slightly. No one else talked to the supreme chancellor in the way he did. "After we crush the Alliance fleet tonight, we will have a talk and you will learn your place. If I want to know who your informant is, you will tell me."

  Seth huffed. "I told you, I don’t know. The informant is helping the MSA. As am I. Would you like to know the location of the fleet?"

  "Tell me," she replied.

  "They are a seven-hour flight from Mars, hanging between us and the sun."

  Samantha’s eyes flickered as she registered the significance of the information. "That is why we haven’t been able to detect them with the sensors. The solar interference washed out everything."

  Gwen fingered her chin. "Let’s send two fleets to their location."

  "Two fleets can’t last against the Alliance fleet," Samantha said. "We should wait for them to come to Mars. We know they will already."

  Gwen shook her head. "But they expect us to wait. We can’t remain stolid against an attacking fleet."

  "Nonetheless, our trap has been set. They’ll decelerate in the wrong position," Samantha said.

  Gwen waved her hand at Samantha. "I’m not sending them to fight the Alliance, only to encourage them to come to Mars. A false victory for them if you will. Deploy two fleets right away and have them fly double time."

  "As you command," Samantha said.

  Chapter 24

  Parker awoke as his bed shook over a great weight. The drone of an unfamiliar engine caught his ear, definitely a midsized craft. If he had to guess, the long sustained whine made him
think of a space yacht, although it didn’t sound like the classic space yachts made famous by Zephyria. This ship was different. A modified craft, he thought.

  The sharp pain in his head felt like a knife stabbing behind his eyes. He guessed that whatever was in that needle had a cocktail of tranquilizers now playing tricks with his brain. He was a bit dizzy but managed to sit up.

  Judging by the room, he didn’t think he was a prisoner. Hannah’s people had decorated the room with pleasant furniture. Two chairs, placed beside each other on the opposite side from the bed, had metal backs and didn’t look particularly comfortable. A desk rested against the far wall. His stuff lay neatly on top, including his sonic pistol.

  He moved slowly to the desk, trying to steady his head. He gathered his breathing mask, filters, and sonic pistol, which was still loaded. Then a smirk formed on his face. He couldn’t find his CommUn on the desk or in the drawers. They weren’t going to trust him not to give their position away.

  The door opened behind him, and he wheeled around, wincing as a pain dazed his mind. He rubbed his neck as Hannah Rohen walked in at a brisk pace. He waited for her to speak.

  "I see you are up now," she said. "The medicine…we had to take the precautions to make sure you couldn’t activate anything."

  "Okay," he said. "Why didn’t you ask me?"

  "And allow you to activate a dental or dermal implant?" She pointed to his clothes. "We cleaned your clothes as well."

  "Such hospitality," Parker said dryly.

  "No such luck. Required as part of your scanning process."

  "You trust me with a sonic pistol." He eyed her for a reply. None came. "I guess I don’t understand the people from the twin colonies."

  "We’re a complex people." She smiled wryly. "Let’s skip the small talk. We arrived within the Alliance fleet three minutes ago."

  "They know we are here?"

  She placed her hand on her chest. "Castor might disagree with Terry, but we aren’t fugitives among the Alliance."

  Parker nodded but didn’t reply further.

  Hannah handed him a datapad. "I’ll be accompanying you on your mission to save your wife."

  Parker glanced at the information, scrolling through what looked like blue print. "You don’t have to come," he said. "I don’t want you to get in trouble."

  "Pollux and Castor will die before next winter if we don’t start acting. Your wife can help us gain access to the rest of the fleet. She is a figurehead we can use to coax the Alliance back into a unified state."

  "I don’t know if she is even alive." Parker swallowed. "Have we gotten any reports about her status?"

  Hannah nodded. "We were able to access the fleet’s systems. Your hunch was correct. She is a prisoner aboard Sheriff."

  "Captain Terry’s flagship. It’ll be interesting."

  "She’ll be executed in three hours. We don’t have much time," Hannah said.

  A terrifying shadow seemed to dim the lights in the cabin, but Parker’s dread had tricked him. He couldn’t fathom coming up with a plan and executing it in that time. "How do we get in?"

  "I have a docking permit for a power dump into the Sheriff. We have a way in."

  "Three hours," Parker muttered as the fate of his wife sank in. If he hadn’t already prepared for the worst, he might have had a nervous breakdown. His hands shook so badly, he had to ball them into fists. He stood for a long moment; the image of the Alliance authorities capturing his wife on Mars only days ago dominated his thoughts. He couldn’t shake the awful thought. He averted his blank stare back toward Hannah Rohen. "And once we are inside?"

  "How good are you with a welding torch?"

  He grinned. "If that is all I have to do, we’ll be home for dinner."

  Hannah told the truth about the intricacies of the Aethpisian cruiser. She said the trip would be a difficult one from the docking port to the detention cells through the access tubes underneath of the outside hull. The tubes stretched long and narrow throughout the ship, awkwardly shaped in places and stiflingly hot, like a kiln.

  The heat stifled him so much that staying still for even a moment pained him. The top layer of skin along Parker’s arms had flaked away, and the second layer was beginning to blister. Most importantly, he was careful to avoid touching his skin against the metal, not unless he wanted a deep sear. The masks provided by Hannah Rohen helped his face to stay cool, and his eye focused on what lay ahead.

  Hannah, currently leading the way on her hands and knees, promised him the heat would subside and they would be comfortable as they moved farther away from the aft of the ship.

  When they docked, she explained Castor and Pollux’s role in building these vessels for the Aethpisians. The Aethpisian government contracted a lot of its shipbuilding out to the nonaligned colonies, especially the difficult manual labor associated with building a ship in outer space. Hannah’s father was killed working as a space welder. Parker was sick to think that Aethpis used the nonaligned colonies for their difficult labor, but he had also learned during this war that many ugly jobs weren’t so ugly if necessity warranted them.

  Hannah skirted at a faster pace now, gaining speed down the access tubes.

  Parker trailed behind her, lugging the welding equipment on his back. Gradually, he began to feel the effects of the heat. Sweat drenched his clothes, and his energy wavered. This caused his senses to become duller, and his hearing and the feeling in his arms numbed, but he pressed on, thinking only of Sarah. He crawled, twisted, turned, and grappled upside down through the access tunnels, doing whatever he needed to do to get to his wife.

  After several more twists and turns, they came to a ladder. Hannah hopped on, moved down several sublevels, and stopped to wait for Parker to catch up. He came down minutes later.

  "How much farther?" He wiped the sweat from his brow.

  She put her index finger over her lips, signaling him to remain silent. A rustling came from their side, and then footsteps, level and unhurried, walked down the hall from below them.

  Parker hadn’t realized it, but he was crouching on a perforated grate running over the top of a corridor. Several minutes passed without a sound from either of them; four guards and a dozen officers had passed in that time. None of them indicated they had seen them from below.

  As the stillness in the corridor remained for several moments, Hannah edged along the grate to the other side. Parker followed closely behind. Hannah slipped into an alcove cut in the end of the access tunnel.

  Now, he was unsure of where they were going. In his experiences aboard a cruiser, the detention center usually resided in the center of the ship toward the aft. He knew they were still in the aft, but they hadn’t recessed far enough into the ship to come to the detention center quite yet. Perhaps Hannah was avoiding guard stations spread throughout the ship, or maybe the guard’s movements had caused her to change her course, or maybe she was lost.

  Parker removed the welding case from his back. He wiped the pooled sweat with the back of his shirt but found that the entire shirt was already soaked.

  He handed the case to Hannah, slipped into the alcove, and slid in beside Hannah.

  The alcove wasn’t as big as the access tunnels, but it turned out not to be as constraining as Parker had envisioned from the other side. He expected to be worming his way through a ventilation system. Instead, he found himself in another tunnel.

  "Where are we?"

  "Near the engine mounts and fuel cells," she said.

  Parker groaned. He knew this meant a risk of fuel leaks in the access tunnels, which meant asphyxiation without warning. Looking at Hannah’s impatient face, he knew that she was thinking the same. He shook his head. "How far do we have to go down?"

  "Not too far," she said. "But we must be quick."

  "I know," he said.

  They moved down the tunnel toward the engine mounts. After a few dozen meters, it turned to the left and went a little farther. A vertical tunnel, running from the top of the ship t
o the bottom, stopped them.

  Looking down, he spotted giant bolts running along the hull, the anchors holding the portside engine to the ship. It was a tight fit.

  Moving down, Hannah used the makeshift handholds the bolts provided and scaled the tunnel. Parker followed. The air cooled slightly, but it was still oppressively hot. He would give anything for a Martian night, or a draught of beer. Instead, the salty sweat dripped into his mouth. "Stay on target," he muttered to himself. Again, he moved slowly as the weight of the welding case around his left shoulder pulled against him.

  By the time he managed to enter the tunnel, she was several meters down.

  With a surge, he caught up to her. "This is it?" Parker said. He felt a cool breeze roll over his skin. He shivered.

  "This is it," she said. "But I’m uncertain where to make the cut."

  Parker rubbed his fingers along his eyebrows, trying to think of the detention cells layout. Unfortunately, he only remembered the blueprints, and his memory was vague at best. Her blank stare made him believe she didn’t know much either. "I don’t know. Maybe we should start a cut and see where it leads."

  She shrugged. "Let’s hope we don’t get noticed."

  He glanced at his watch. They had taken a half hour to get there from the docking bay, leaving them with about thirty minutes to get back. It would be close.

  He began his weld. The glow ached around the floor. As he cut, he thought about Sarah. She was only meters from him but scheduled for termination shortly. If luck held, they would be back aboard Hannah’s shuttle and safe, else he would be joining her in her execution…ceremony. A ceremony is what the Alliance leaders labeled it in their agenda file. He was already sick as he thought about them accusing her of being a traitor. Now they were making a spectacle of the entire thing. He had to get her out.

  He finished the weld, and the metal circle fell from the ceiling of the corridor to the floor below. It rattled loudly, louder than Parker thought it would or Hannah wanted. Parker shook off the disturbance, slipped through the hole, and dropped below.

  The corridor, arched and intensely white, was empty. It transitioned into a larger corridor. Another corridor split off, but from his angle, the rest was blocked.