Star Brigade: Maelstrom (Star Brigade Book 2)

by C. C. Ekeke

  And Habraum sprang forward. Surprised cries erupted, and a whirlwind of concussive force tore through the Retributionaries in front of Honaa. The Cerc struck at every Korvenite in sight, like a savage tornado, each blow punctuate by a red lash of biokinetic force. Retributionaries’ helmets shattered, armor cleaved apart, gouts of limey blood spraying everywhere.

  Moments later, only Habraum and Maelstrom remained standing, surrounded by twenty dead or dying Retributionaries. By the look of Maelstrom’s face, disbelief wasn’t a flavor he knew well or enjoyed. Honaa actually laughed, until Habraum wobbled and collapsed to a knee. The Cerc looked as agonized as Honaa felt, and that desperate attack had clearly sapped the last of his reserves.

  “You…” Habraum gasped for breath. His arm trembled as he aimed a glowing fist at Maelstrom. “You…go through me…to get to my team.”

  “Murderer.” The Korvenite gaped at his dead soldiers, and shed his shock like a cloak. “Gladly.”

  Stupidly overprotective fool! “Move away, Habraum!” Honaa cried, but the Cerc ignored him.

  “What’s that overused, yet apropos, human phrase?” The Korvenite’s hands crackled yellow and blue with psionic power. “Ah yes. If you want something done right…” A shimmering danced before Honaa’s eyes. The burning light of Alorum’s heavens faded, as did Maelstrom’s furious scream, as he pitched forks of psionic lighting at the fallen Star Brigadiers.

  The Rothorid felt none of it, his body tingling with something other than pain. Honaa sighed in relief as he was being transmatted.

  15.

  “Did we get them?” Liliana asked desperately. The burning remnants of the betelydra were almost upon Alorum’s Light, flooding the Phaeton’s entire viewscreen with illumination. The doctor had been flying the Phaeton back and forth, evading the Protectorate’s battery array. All the while, V’Korram worked feverishly to transmat their fellow Brigadiers back to the ship. The Kintarian turned to her, no longer working the console. For a terrifying instant Liliana thought V’Korram failed to get CT-1 …until his body relaxed in visible relief.

  “Got them,” he purred softly. “All in Transfer Bay 1.”

  Liliana’s heart soared. “Thank the Maker.” She spun the ship around and punched the throttle, away from Alorum’s Light, just as the betelydra’s burning corpse struck Alorum’s surface.

  Fire, rock and burnt betelydra flesh collided in one explosive bang, causing Liliana and V’Korram to shield their eyes. The collision’s jarring roar shook Liliana from head to toe. Jolt after jolt slammed into the Phaeton’s backside, as did plops of boiling viscera.

  Then it ended, and Alorum’s skies returned to their usual overcast blanket. Smoldering betelydra innards oozed everywhere in white-hot rivers, flowing down the Protectorate and surrounding mountain ranges. Any damage to Alorum’s Light looked only superficial from Liliana’s vantage point. Her concern was for her fellow Brigadiers. The doctor flew the Phaeton up toward the upper atmosphere of Alorum’s night side.

  “Crescendo.” Liliana turned to V’Korram and recoiled. So focused was the doctor on flying earlier, she didn’t see how bad V’Korram looked. Bright red rivulets ran through his ginger mane. The Kintarian’s furred face and muzzle sported various dark bruises. Even with the surly facade he was putting on, V’Korram still clutched his ribs, a wheeze accompanying every breath.

  “I’ll take the helm,” he reached for the controls. “Check the others.”

  Liliana refused to budge. “V’Kor—Jakad—whatever. You’re in no condition—.”

  V’Korram roughly swept her aside with his free arm. “Your teammates, doctor. Now.”

  No use arguing with the truth, Liliana supposed grudgingly. She hurried through the bridge, snatching up her medical bag along the way to Transfer Bay 1. Upon entering, seeing bodies sprawled all over the place stabbed her with fear. But a quick glance told Liliana that everyone was still alive.

  She ran first to Captain Nwosu, already rising to his feet. The towering building of a Cerc looked like hovertram roadkill. He held up a hand to halt her. “Status.”

  “We’ve sustained some damage. V’Kor—Jakadda is taking us off Alorum. And we located a shrouded Korvenite vessel.”

  “You identify it?” Nwosu questioned.

  “No. My priorities were rescuing CT-1. But its safe to assume who owns the warship.”

  “Right.” Nwosu stared and nodded approvingly. “Good work. I’ll be at the helm.” The tall captain, though in obvious pain, limped for the Transfer Bay exit.

  “Sir,” Liliana began. “Let me—.”

  “Don’t fuss over me. Help your teammates.” He disappeared through the sliding exit.

  Tyris came from behind. Alarm crawled up Liliana’s skin like ants at the sight of him. Small fissures ran along his crystalline skin around the torso, all dripping with dark blue fluids.

  “Check the others,” Tyris breezed past Liliana before she even opened her mouth. She scowled and moved on to Sam, who was just sitting up.

  “Say ‘I’m fine, check the others’, and you get tranked!” Liliana brandished her scancorder menacingly at Sam.

  “Yes Ma’am,” Sam smirked, running a hand through her disheveled hair. She also looked worn out and battered. “But I’m really not the person you should be checking first.” Liliana stared blankly until the Commander gestured ahead of her. The doctor gasped.

  Honaa was curled up on the ground and quivering; Marguliese lay motionless in a spread eagle position. Then there was Khrome, crouching next to the Cybernarr. Instinctively, the doctor ran forward. Her heart pounded madly as she swooped down and examined Honaa. The scancorder detected neural trauma and disruptions all across the Rothorid equivalent of his cerebral cortex, but nothing life threatening. She then turned her attention to Marguliese, looking the worst of the three, with bleeding contusions on her body and vacant eyes. Liliana knew nothing of Cybernarr physiology and panicked, unsure if Marguliese was even alive.

  “She’s alive,” Khrome said quietly. “But I almost killed her.”

  “Khrome,” Sam cut in sympathetically, now on her feet. “You did the right thing in the end.”

  “I considered it,” he threw back. “That’s enough in my book.”

  Liliana saw her friend guilt-ridden, Sam telling him not to be and Honaa just lying there hissing disjointedly in his dialect. If only she could get answers. “What happened down there?” Sam and Khrome eyed each other uncomfortably, both about to speak.

  “Maelstrom.” Everyone jumped. Marguliese sat up with a speed belying her injured state. She cast a quick, probing look at her surroundings, gazing the longest on Khrome. He immediately looked away.

  “Maelstrom and his Korvenite Independence Front usurped control of Alorum’s Light before we arrived, abducted all of its slaves via transmat, circumvented this ship and the planet’s comm systems, killed the Protectorate’s supervisor and had analogous intentions for us.” Marguliese tossed her long plait over her shoulder and turned to Sam. “That is an accurate abridgment of events, correct?”

  Sam, visibly dumbfounded, simply nodded.

  “You forgot the part about a mind-controlled betelydra trying to destroy the Phaeton and crashing down on Alorum’s Light,” Liliana added quietly, standing up.

  “The thing that hit the base tried to kill you?” Khrome snapped out of his self-pity and eyed Liliana.

  “A detail that I have noted,” Marguliese commented tersely. She stood upright and pivoted toward the bridge. “There is no need to further examine me, Cortés.” She threw a withering gaze at the doctor when Liliana moved to scan the Cybernarr again.

  “Wha-what? Marguliese, look at you—.”

  “Irrelevant. My injuries cannot be remedied by your practices.” The transfer bay door hissed open and closed, marking her departure.

  Sam rolled her eyes. “It’s like the wordy bitch gets paid per syllable.” Liliana almost laughed, until the ship shook violently. That couldn’t be from exiting Alorum’s a
tmosphere, not with Phaeton’s EE shock absorbers. “We have to get to the bridge!” Sam looked to Khrome.

  Liliana threw up her hands in utter exasperation. “But you two might be seriously injured.”

  Sam grinned lopsidedly. “Don’t worry, lovey. I’m tougher than most.” She gave Liliana a soft pat on the face. “Make sure Honaa’s okay.” The door hissed open and shut, both Star Brigadiers vanishing. The doctor turned to Honaa, still curled up in the corner. At least he couldn’t say, ‘no’.

  “I ssshould have…sssshould have killed him when I h-had the chance,” Honaa rasped. Liliana looked away from his haunted eyes. Falling into her role as doctor, she began treating her patient.

  16.

  Habraum’s first action once he reached the helm was asking V’Korram their status. After getting a report, he gave the Kintarian a onceover, “See Cortés,” Habraum ordered. Surprisingly, V’Korram padded out of the helm without protest. On the viewscreen, murky clouds gave way to twinkling darkness, as the Phaeton broke through Alorum’s atmosphere.

  “Let’s see.” Habraum eased into Honaa’s helm seat and rested his grip on the pilot controls. Since making the rank of Captain three years back, the Cerc hadn’t piloted missions as often as in the past. But every time he flew, any lingering injuries or innermost doubts would vanish. At the first maneuver to starboard, Habraum felt like he had slipped on an old pair of shoes, a bit cold from neglect, but still comfortable in all the right areas. He hit the throttle and sped into open space.

  The proximity alarms sounded. He saw it on the FFD readouts and the viewscreen. Cooling fragments of the second Century-Class Hammerjack orbiting Alorum scattered out in space. A surface sensor sweep told him this wasn’t via the z-bombs that wrecked the Draconis, but by turbo battery-fire. Most certainly a sneak attack from that shrouded warship Liliana mentioned.

  KATOOM! A z-bomb appeared at his port side and detonated. Shockwave after jarring shockwave slammed into the Phaeton’s shielding. Relying on skills honed by years of piloting, Habraum punched the throttle and climbed, shooting up at a vector that put Phaeton far above the z-bomb explosion.

  “Reign,” he heard Sam’s voice behind him from her comm station. “A big something’s dropping shroud.” Moments after she spoke, the space before them rippled and warped to reveal a colossal jade-hulled warship, Monarch-Class from Habraum’s estimation. Its design stretched and pointed like a jagged emerald sword, reflecting the twinkling starlight all around, floating in between the Phaeton and the inky black expanse.

  “Maelstrom must feel pretty ballsy to drop shroud in broad starlight,” Sam remarked.

  “The warship’s powering shields and weapons,” Tyris said. “And has generous amounts of both.”

  Khrome chimed in. “Even if the Phaeton was in optimal condition, which it definitely isn’t, we’d be pulverized by as little as three direct hits.”

  From a logical being’s standpoint, the Phaeton was completely outmatched. But Habraum refused to fail this combat team like he had his last one. “Heatstroke, get those comm stations to work so we can call some help; Khrome, pump all non-essential power to shields and engines. I just need to dodge this gargantuan.”

  The warship’s port side lit up in blistering white plumes of plasma fire. Habraum cranked the throttle, his mouth curling into a grin. The Korvenite’s opening salvo lanced out.

  The Cerc dove well below it.

  Plasma bolts poured down, following the Phaeton’s dive. That would’ve been the end for most ships, but Habraum had cut his teeth years ago on these impossible scenarios. He crisscrossed through the volley, juking the Phaeton right and left, port to starboard and back at breakneck speed. Still the countless plasma bolts streaked down. Habraum cut the throttle right before a thick volley struck and climbed straight up, rolled to the right and kept on spinning.

  After seven full rotations, Habraum cut the roll dangerously close to the Korvenite warship. In prompt fashion he punched the throttle again, making a hard left and rocketing past its underbelly.

  “Please don’t do that again,” wheezed Tyris, sounding sick. Habraum barely heard, his focus on keeping CT-1 alive. Now they flew well ahead, away from the warship. But the Korvenites weren’t giving up that easily. The warship swung around from the port side and pursued. More z-bombs and plasma bolts popped up at his rear. One z-bomb erupted just out of reach, but its aftershocks still shivered through the Phaeton—trapping the ship between a tight volley of plasma bolt fire that overshot them.

  The bridge grew taut with anxiety, but Habraum never panicked at the helm. Not when it felt so much like home. He rolled the ship to starboard, cut the throttle and dove. He pulled up from the dive with a 360 degree snap roll, turbo battery fire burning in the Phaeton’s wake. Habraum tried to not smile too much. All he needed was enough distance between the Phaeton and the Korvenite behemoth to make a clean hyperspace jump.

  “The Korvenite vessel’s hailing us,” Sam’s voice came from somewhere in the distance.

  Habraum didn’t look back. “Audio only.”

  “You know how this will end, Habraum,” Maelstrom’s silky voice permeated throughout the Phaeton’s bridge. “Except, you won’t escape within an inch of your life, like on Beridaas.”

  The bridge went dead-silent. All eyes turned to the Cerc, who swallowed his fury while cutting back on the throttle. Trying to rattle me, he told himself.

  “Surrender now and your death—.” The transmission abruptly cut out, courtesy of Sam.

  “Thank you,” Khrome sighed in relief.

  The Commander shrugged. “Don’t mention it. Still nothing on comms, Reign.”

  “Keep trying,” Habraum muttered.

  “Captain,” V’Korram growled urgently.

  “I know,” Habraum muttered without needing to be told. The warship kept gaining, almost in tractor beam range. The plasma barrage continued. He kept juking and diving to avoid it. The dagger-like behemoth soon took up the entire rear viewscreen. And then Habraum acted.

  For a heartbeat he cut the throttle and u-turned back toward the warship—at full ramming speed!

  “Habraum,” Marguliese cautioned.

  “He knows what he’s doing,” Sam countered. As expected, the warship stalled at this unexpected change of direction. Habraum took full advantage. He spun past several plasma bolts and climbed over the warship at the last possible instant, skimming its shielding and shooting up into the twinkling void.

  The Cerc’s euphoric howl startled all but Marguliese, who simply raised an eyebrow. “Prep for hyperspace jump,” he smiled. A glance at the rear viewscreen showed the warship shrinking, but altering course to pursue. So long, ya lolly-brained squits, Habraum crowed.

  About to do as ordered, Khrome poured over his tech console readings. His eyes widened. “Drat and Blast! DON’T MAKE THE HYPER JUMP!”

  Habraum glanced back, surprised and annoyed. “What’s wrong?”

  “The IHPA is cracked in two places.”

  Habraum’s heart sank, as did everyone else’s on the bridge. The IHPS, or Internal Hyperspace Pressure Stabilizer, kept a vessel and its passengers from being scattered into atoms when traversing through hyperspace. Any damage to an IHPS could spell calamity for a ship jumping to hyperspace.

  “Can you fix it?” Sam asked urgently.

  “Of course, but it would take maybe ten to fifteen macroms.”

  “And if I assist?” Marguliese asked.

  Khrome glowered at her. “Over half an orv.”

  “Time that we don’t have.” Habraum stared at the dagger-like Korvenite warship on the rear viewscreen, gaining on them once more. Habraum knew he could dodge the beast, but given the ship’s damage he had no clue for how long. The Phaeton’s no starfighter jet.

  “Captain,” Sam’s voice cut into his thoughts. “A huge vessel’s emerging from hyperspace.”

  “You’re greybrickin’ me.” Habraum spat in disbelief. What else could go wrong? “Designation?”

&nbs
p; “Unknown, but it’s really ginormous!”

  “Got it, Samantha,” Habraum inhaled deeply, still in control. “Arcturus, prep weapons.”

  On the main viewscreen, a splash of sparkling blue pierced through space’s inky black; the distinctive sign of a ship jumping from hyperspace. Star Brigade collectively braced themselves. Blinding light filled the twinkling heavens before them. A nanoclic later, they saw a disk-like space station of gold and silver hue, bowing out on the top and shrinking on the bottom. Its shimmering bulk filled the heavens, stunning everyone on the Phaeton into silence. Except Marguliese, who merely said “Fascinating.”

  Even the Korvenite warship halted its pursuit at the sight of this gigantic station.

  The station’s readings were off the scale and nothing in the Phaeton’s arsenal would even scratch its shielding. The designs on the outer hull looked familiar—Nnaxan and also Kedri. Habraum took a closer onceover, first in curiosity and then in astonishment.

  “Habraum,” Marguliese swept forward, dawning recognition on her golden face. “That would be—.”

  “I see it, Maggie.”

  “What?” Khrome looked at both of them warily.

  “The Amalgam. That skittery station the Kedri and the Union have been building for months now.”

  “Shut me down,” Khrome looked thoroughly enchanted.

  “The Amalgam’s charging weapons,” Tyris cut in.

  “At who?” Khrome looked at him.

  “Not us.”

  The Amalgam unleashed a tight green photonic beam that sliced through space, striking the Korvenite warship’s port side.

  The blast was a direct hit, knocking the warship into a violent spiral. Khrome howled in triumph. Sam cringed, her mind clearly on the Korvenite slaves aboard. Honaa, fresh from being treated by Liliana, stood in the rear with his scaly maw agape. Habraum sighed with relief.