“They say you are a freighter captain, sir?” Private Meadows said as they walked with a relaxed pace for the food court.
“I was,” Ray smiled. “My ship crashed and here I am.”
“How did you become a captain?”
“Well…” Ray stopped for a moment, thinking what to say. “I was having issues at home and eventually the wife decided to leave me. So, I enlisted for the longer trade routes, started living on board.”
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, sir.” Private Meadows apologized clumsily.
“No need, Meadows. Please drop the ‘sir’ though, it’s stressing me out. Just Ray.”
“All right, Ray. Titles and ranks are our daily life on board.”
“I can guess,” Ray nodded in agreement as the two arrived at the buffet. He filled a couple of trays with fruit and mashed potatoes, served near synthetic meat. There was an extra pot at the end of the line, serving the soup. It was quickly becoming a famous dish on board the ship, either because it tasted good or because Reverend Marcus created a scene about it whenever he could.
“Why did she leave?” Meadows asked, filling her own tray.
Ray sighed. “Truth is, we lost our son in an accident and things went downhill from there. I started drinking, and well…I drove the wife and the daughter away. We got divorced and Elaine, my daughter, refused to see me anymore, saying I let her and the mother down when they needed me most.”
“I’m so sorry,” Meadows babbled. “Did you?”
“I guess so. Every time I looked into their eyes, I saw my son. It was unbearable and I chose the quickest path.”
“Running away.”
Ray nodded.
“You seem to be in peace with this.”
“I’m not. It’s just…” Ray stopped, realizing how easily he’d opened up to Meadows. “I think I accept it now. You can’t hide your head in the sand. Life is still around you and it likes to throw new challenges at you.”
“Like aliens destroying planets and assassins trying to kill you?”
Ray smiled. “Something like that. How about you?”
“I’m hoping to transfer to Carlson Academy after my field duty,” Private Meadows said, seeming happy about the subject, as they climbed the stairs with trays in their hands. “My fiancé’s an instructor there and we’re hoping to get married next summer.”
“You don’t look like the settling in type.”
The girl smiled. “I’m into action but the pay is good at Carlson and Melissa wants to have a baby. We’ll apply for adoption when I get my transfer orders.”
“Do you want to have a baby?”
“Maybe.” She looked down at her tray. “I mean, I’m still a rookie and Carlson may provide a career jump. The baby and the family also sound nice. I admit the idea of being a mother terrifies me. But Melissa believes we’ll be at least adequate parents.”
They turned the corner. Meadows kept speaking but Ray didn’t hear her. He threw his tray aside and rushed to the soldier on the floor. Ray checked his pulse but the way the soldier’s neck was twisted, he was long gone.
Private Meadows cursed behind him, dropping her own tray and reaching for her weapon. “This is Meadows,” she yapped, touching her communicator, her voice trembling. “We need a medic and a security—”
“Hush!” Ray raised his finger to his mouth, telling her to keep it down, and opened the door of the room slowly.
He saw Brother Cavil near the observation window, holding Reverend Marcus in his arms, staring into nothingness. The elderly man had a nasty gunshot wound right under the heart, his robe dark around the puncture. Blood trailed on the floor and had pooled red a few meters from where they sat. Brother Cavil’s hands were soaked, his face losing its color.
Private Meadows went in first and Ray took another step after her. Then he felt the cold touch of metal on the back of his head, “By the…” He and the rookie private stopped where they were.
“Move into the room,” spoke the familiar voice of Agent Caius, pushing Ray forward, besides Private Meadows.
When Ray passed through the doorway and stopped near the private, Caius hit Private Meadows fiercely in the back of her head. The rookie soldier’s eyes rolled out and she fell hard to the floor. Agent Caius pushed Ray forward, near Brother Cavil, poking the laying private with his foot.
“You have been quite a nuisance Mr. Harris,” the dark figure turned to face Ray. “You were supposed to die in that crash.”
“Believe me, you’re not the first to say it.” Ray sighed, looking at Reverend Marcus. “You just don’t quit, do you?”
“You do not need to concern yourself with such details,” the assassin replied. He looked at the three Arinar sitting on the table. “Good.”
“Why?” Brother Cavil spoke suddenly; his eyes were reddened with dry tears and the veins of his neck tensed. He gently lowered Reverend Marcus’ body and yelled, “Why!” Cavil’s mouth was bloody and so was his robe as he struggled up. Before Brother Cavil could stand, Caius reached him in a flash and hit him hard with the grip of his weapon. Cavil slumped.
“You animal!” Ray stepped forward but stopped short when Caius pointed his gun.
“No time for emotional outbursts.”
“The old man’s right. You’re an animal.” Ray winced, looking at Reverend Marcus. “What did you want with an old reverend and a priest?”
“Nothing. Those two are strong in spirit,” Agent Caius said admiringly. “However, one must know when to quit. You are supposed to be dead. I have no intention of killing anyone else if I have a choice.”
“And a reverend of eighty-something and a harmless priest didn’t leave you a choice. Bastard.” Ray couldn’t hide his disgust. Even if it was the end of the world, he wanted to see Caius suffer before his own demise.
Caius looked at Reverend Marcus’ body for a moment, then back to Ray. “Goodbye, Mr. Harris.”
Private Meadows jumped the dark figure, grappling for his gun. Shocked, the sudden struggle off-balanced the assassin and he uncontrollably pulled the trigger. A ricochet hit the observation glass right above the passed-out priest and, even though the glass was unscratched, security protocol alarms rang on the passenger deck.
With the momentary distraction Ray dashed forward to join the fight, grabbing Caius’s arm, but the man was strong as a bull. He felt an electrical surge on the man’s arm, raising the hairs on his own. A moment later, Ray found himself flying toward the other end of the room, hitting his head hard on the wall.
Private Meadows was still fighting but losing consciousness, her eyes rolling back from a powerful strike. Caius used his augmented arms as a Taser, shocking his opponents as they touched him, pushing them away. The girl struggled out of survival instinct now, not letting go of the killing machine.
Ray pressed himself up with his hands and the world around him swirled. He shook his head a few times, which only made things worse. The only thing he could hear was a constant ringing sound. Is that a…telephone?
Caius focused on the young private. She looked battered, her nose bleeding like a faucet but the girl had the soul of a warrior. She kicked and scratched, yelled and cursed—babbling rather than words, but she was holding.
Private Meadows tried to punch the dark figure the way they’d probably taught her in the military academy but Agent Caius caught her fist midair and twisted her arm painfully. The young private screamed in agony and fell on her knees. Conventional hand-to-hand moves meant nothing against the assassin’s years of training and extreme nano-augmentations. The agent pushed the woman away violently with his left foot and turned to face Ray.
Ray didn’t know what to do and he reached for the closest Arinar on the table, Serhmana, and swung it as hard as he could. He didn’t expect the shockwave the moment he touched the stone. A red light came out of the stone, surrounding his arms. The stone met Caius’s face and threw the agent into the air, breaking through the door and flying into the corridor. Ray hear
d, no, he felt a sense of glory as the stone met with Caius’ cold face.
“So that’s what it does.” He looked down at the redly glowing Serhmana.
Agent Caius grunted and gasped for air when he pushed himself back up, coming back into the room. His face was covered in blood, his left cheekbone bright red and darkening fast. Ray didn’t know much about the technology; Caius’s medical augmentations would probably heal the fractures, but the killer would need surgical treatment to reshape the nose. Of that, Ray was sure.
“Your nose looks funny.”
“I commend your efforts, Mr. Harris,” Caius said, touching his face and catching his breath. “But they are in vain!”
The assassin jumped with inhuman speed on Ray and landed several punches. Ray dropped the Arinar to cover his face but Agent Caius was simply too strong for him. He felt his left shoulder dislocating with a fierce hit and a spike of pain passed through his body, cutting off his air.
Agent Caius raised Ray’s head and smashed it to the floor. Ray heard birds singing; something happening all too frequently nowadays. And why didn’t anyone answer that telephone? The dark man took Ray’s head into his hands again to finish the job but Private Meadows was there once again. She was on her feet, but shaking, and her left eye was twitching. She raised her rifle and hit Caius with the back of her weapon.
Agent Caius howled in pain and reflexively turned, smacking Meadows hard in the chest. Ray heard the cracking sound of the private’s ribs and watched her thrown away again, her struggle to scream away her pain turning into guttural sounds as she clung to life, choking.
“Now—” the dark man hovered over Ray, slowly rising from the floor “—we end this—”
“Die, you son-of-a-whore!” Private Meadows yelled, spouting blood from her mouth and firing her rifle. She could barely hold the weapon and the recoil made her drop the rifle after a few shots but not before shredding the appalled Agent Caius’ right knee.
The killer screamed in anguish and fell. He tried to pull himself up but his leg barely held together. Ray heard soldiers’ footsteps in the stairway. Finally. Agent Caius heard them too. The agent pulled himself up, groaning in agony and fled the room away from the stairs, dragging his right leg.
Ray crawled toward Private Meadows. She was injured pretty badly but would live if taken care of fast. “Someone should give you a medal, young lady,” he whispered.
“You…think so?” Meadows eyes rolled out.
Two guards appeared in the doorway, looking into the room in disbelief. “Meadows!” one of the soldiers said, rushing to his friend.
“You, stay here,” Ray waved at the man, finally managing to stand. “Protect those stones with your life!” He grabbed the young private by his collar, “With your life!” He let go of the shocked soldier and turned to look at Brother Cavil, who lay still. “And get a medic here!”
“I’m sorry, old man,” he murmured, tears rolling down his cheeks, and rushed out of the room. The agent was bleeding badly, leaving trails.
“You were right, Mr. Caius. This ends now,” Ray growled, opening the bloodied hatch to the engineering section.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
HOME
The Deviator came out of hyperspace fifty thousand kilometers from Mars, completing its jump from Pendar’s Star. To the crew’s dismay, they’d appeared right in the middle of a warzone, sudden flashes of beam weapons and flak cannons filling the darkness of space, creating a light show equally mesmerizing and terrifying.
“What the—” Rebecca’s words were cut off by a powerful shockwave that hurled the bridge personnel around the room. Those who were fortunate enough to grab a rail or a station could shake off the blast but a good third of the crew stayed down, wounded. Rebecca saw two ensigns trapped under a beam, probably with fatal concussions.
“Shields up!” she yelled, accepting the help of a young airman to get back on her feet. “Battle stations! Damage report, on the double!”
Red and green dots almost covered the grid on the radar screen. Over three hundred dreadnought signals on the IFF transponder, escorted by hundreds of smaller craft.
“How did the Baeal pass the defense grid?” Rebecca asked. “There was no warning!”
She ignored the blood dripping from her right temple. On the tactical screen, the Consortium fleet was positioned near the planet in close formation like a sphere, like needles on a magnet and the Baeal forces were standing in a straight line. Not a straight line!
“What the hell are those dreadnoughts doing?” Rebecca pushed herself toward the tactical console, trying to hold on to a nearby chair. “Mr. Jong, patch me to fleet command!” she yanked herself to the station, “And someone take us out of the blast zone!” They had jumped right into the middle of a fire exchange and the ship was taking hits from both Baeal and Consortium ships.
She reached for the main holographic display and Rebecca’s eyes grew wide when she changed the perspective of the map, confirming her fears. “No, no, no!” The enemy was forming a crescent formation in vertical axis and whoever was commanding the Consortium fleet hadn’t noticed the maneuver. Perception of space in two dimensions was a common mistake among the inexperienced commanders and in this case it would mean their doom. The Baeal surrounded the spherical formation of the dreadnoughts in a pincer, like armies in historic battles. Only this time, it was from up and down rather than from the sides. That is fleet maneuvers one-oh-one for God’s sake!
“Ma’am, Admiral Santiago’s online,” Lieutenant Jong informed Rebecca.
“Santiago, this is Conway,” Rebecca hissed through her communicator. “What the hell are you doing!”
“Excuse me?” asked the man on the other end, startled by Rebecca’s rage.
Rebecca felt the frustration building up, “Marcel, you are letting them surround you, check the vertical axis!” she yelled. “At least look out the goddamn window!”
“I—”
“Check your radar’s Z-axis!” Rebecca cut the signal, focusing on the theatre before her.
The Baeal fleet slowly closed the arms of the snare. Keeping the huge, spider-like ships in the middle—there were at least five—surrounded by weaker ships was a useful, if standard tactic. The titans in the center would be their tanks, taking the bulk of the damage from enemy volleys, but the knot would be tied by the weaker ships to which no one paid attention.
The three super-dreadnoughts Garrett, King and Seth countered the enemy capitals—Destroyers maybe, not capitals as in our understanding, Rebecca thought bitterly, remembering the planet-killer back at Pendar—with mortar fire while the surrounding ships provided a flak barrage against the buzzing enemy fighters. Rebecca understood where Admiral Santiago was going with this tactic. He was planning to keep the fleet together and act as one big gun battery, focusing on the enemy’s big ships, but it was useless against the Baeal firepower and he would soon lose the super-dreadnoughts, the backbone of his force. Destroyers, which were basically support craft, and dreadnoughts wouldn’t be anywhere near enough to counter such a force. Rebecca only knew too well how destructive the Baeal could be. Marcel, you traditional fool.
“Admiral!” a female officer called, “the damage assessment team reports minor damage to the secondary turbine. Rest is superficial.”
Rebecca nodded, “Keep me posted, lieu—”
Another blast hit the Deviator from starboard, freezing all the screens and consoles on the bridge. The main tactical map flickered as if trying to resist the force of the explosion, then died.
“Report!”
“Ma’am, it was the King!” Lieutenant Jong barked over the chaos, “It’s gone.”
“What!”
The King, flagship of the second banner under the command of Fleet Admiral Santiago, had gone down. Marcel Santiago hadn’t known about the Baeal and tried to take the enemy head on, relying on standard academy tactics. What he got in return was focused artillery of the five enemy super-capitals, ripping through the thick ar
mor and hitting the reactor core. Rebecca could almost hear her father speaking, “Naming your ship King doesn’t crown you as the ruler.”
Rebecca cursed out loud when the emergency generator kicked in and the screens came back online. The collateral damage from the explosion had been a serious blow to Garrett and Seth. Seth glowed with fire on various decks and Garrett careened to one side with its primary right thruster dead. The huge ship drifted toward the CTC Bremen and shredded her into pieces, hitting the dreadnought right in the middle. The kilometer-long warship had no hope of resisting the huge super-dreadnought ramming her in the belly.
Rebecca grimaced, “Mr. Jong, open a fleet-wide channel.”
“Channel open, ma’am.”
She pressed the beeping button. “This is Fleet Admiral Conway of the First Banner. I am assuming command of the fleet.” She looked at Ga’an, who had silently observed the battle through the main screen and the tactical map since coming onto the bridge. “Mr. Ga’an, you were a fleet admiral yourself. I would really welcome your input.”
Ga’an looked at her with his usual expressionless eyes, and then glanced again at the holographic map. “Divide the fleet into four task forces. Open them up vertically like the legs of a square.” He pointed to mark the exact spots on the tactical map. “Then with any capable ship, make a jump here.” He indicated a spot behind the enemy ships.
Rebecca narrowed her eyes at Ga’an’s marks on the map. His plan was sound; the square would counter the crescent maneuver of the Baeal, surrounding their two-legged approach from the sides, and she had firsthand experience of enemy ships’ weak spots at their backs when they’d first encountered the Baeal in Samara’s Star. The smaller ships needed gates and relay stations for precision jumps but the super-dreadnoughts had enough power output to carry hyperspace drives of their own. With a talented cartographer, it would be possible to calculate the maneuver.
Shadows Bear No Names (The Blackened Prophecy Book 1) Page 31