The Starhawk Chronicles: Rest and Wreck-reation

by Joseph J. Madden

  Scarab pulled his sidearm and pointed it at his driver’s helmet. “Question me again and you won’t survive this encounter one way or the other.”

  No further encouragement needed, the driver leaned hard on his controls, the vehicle almost going completely on its side as it turned sharply and began to retreat. Scarab looked through the rear viewport just as two more Wolverines blew apart into scrap.

  “Get me back to base,” Scarab hissed as he turned away from the chaos. “I will deal with that pilot personally.”

  Jesse again found himself marveling at the truth of the Kamarran mechanics words. While the Demon was not pretty at all, she flew like the most graceful of angels. He almost felt bad for Boke’s people in the tanks below. The Demon was so fast and agile that any shots they fired in his direction had no hope of scoring hits against him. Within a matter of minutes, he had taken out over half their number, with the survivors finally regrouping enough to make some sort of organized retreat. Certain that they would pose no more threat to his friends on the ground, he allowed them to leave.

  With the fight done, he switched on the fighter’s comm, scanning through frequencies until he found the one he and K’Tran had agreed upon. “Not a bad bit of flying, eh buddy?”

  “I’ve seen better,” came the reply. “You missed some.”

  “You’re just jealous because I got to fly her and not you.”

  “You pulled rank on me, Captain.”

  Sourpuss, Jesse thought. “How are our charges?”

  “As well as can be. Those tanks never got a shot off, thanks to my exceptional diversionary tactics,” Jesse heard a voice in the background and K’Tran added, “Kwinn helped too.”

  “Raychel and the others?”

  “Travelling with the wounded on Bordner’s transport.”

  That was a relief. Raychel had proven herself to be so bullheaded, Jesse would not have put it past her to ride along as K’Tran took his transport into the thick of battle. “Keep pushing for the city,” he said, “And switch over to the ‘hawk’s emergency channel. I want to see if we can raise the others.”

  Settling the fighter into a course that would keep him continually circling their ragtag convoy, he switched frequencies to contact the Starhawk. It was a long shot that anyone might be listening on that particular channel right at that moment, and was surprised to hear Kym’s voice come back at him almost immediately.

  “Nice to hear your voice again, Jesse,” the engineer replied. “Is K’Tran with you?”

  “Sort of. You have anything to report?”

  “Tons. Everything’s gone higgledy-piggledy since you and K’Tran decided to make your great escape. Seems Boke’s pissed off more people than you know.”

  Jesse thought about the airfield crew. “So I’ve heard. Where are the others?”

  “Bokschh is currently, hopefully, at the main communication center helping Rhasti broadcast to the rest of the galaxy about what’s going on here.”

  “Who’s Rhasti?”

  Kym did not answer. “Podo, Morogo, and Sneaker are with the main resistance group on the ground, going after Boke’s armory.” She paused, and Jesse thought he heard the sound of a collision or an explosion in the background. He was about to question when she cut back in, a touch more terror in her voice than before. “And I am currently playing tag with a quartet of Boke’s fighters who are trying to shoot me down. Seems that I am it.”

  “Who’s flying with you?”

  “Friends.”

  Her cryptic responses were starting to grate on Jesse’s nerves. “Well watch yourself. Boke’s got a warship in orbit.”

  “Had a warship,” she replied. “Which is why we are currently running from his fighters. And before you say it—yes. We were using the cloaking device. It lost power. It’s an easy fix, but I’ve been too busy trying not to get us killed to worry about fixing it.”

  “Then get out of orbit. Head towards Valhalla. Stay as low as you can without hitting anything. Those fighters might not risk shooting at you with civilians on the ground.”

  “They haven’t seemed too concerned while we’re dodging around every ship in orbit.”

  “Just get to Valhalla. I’ll meet you there. K’Tran, you been listening in?”

  “Heard every word. You cause trouble even when you’re not around, it seems.”

  “It’s a gift,” Jesse retorted. “Head for Valhalla. I’m going to get those fighters off Kym’s back, then we’ll try and find Podo and Morogo.”

  “Copy that. You take the high road and I’ll take the low—literally. Kym, where exactly is this armory of Boke’s?”

  “Hidden inside the sports arena on the city’s southwest side.”

  “Then it’s on our way. Convenient. Okay kids, we’ll see you there.”

  Jesse pulled the Demon out of its circle and threw everything to the throttle. Within moments, he had left the others far behind, even overtaking the remainder of Boke’s tanks, which were still running for the hills. Passing over a range of low hills, Valhalla City loomed in the distance.

  It took only a matter of minutes for him to reach the city at the rate he was flying. Passing low across the cityscape, he could see the chaos along the main thoroughfare, burning vehicles, beings running every which way. In the direction of the spaceport, ships of every design were making a hasty retreat for the stars. And just past that—

  The sight of the Starhawk would have made Jesse’s heart soar, were it not for the fact of the three Apache fighters screaming after it, laying fire into its aft shields. “Kym, I see you. Turn southwest, heading for the spaceport,” he called. “Keep her at rooftop level. When I tell you, pull up. Straight up. I’ll take care of the parasites on your back.”

  Kym did not answer, but he saw the ship turn in his direction. He brought up the fighter’s shields and made sure that the weapons were ready. Then he targeted the Starhawk’s bridge.

  At the rate the two ships were now travelling toward each other, it took only seconds for them to close the distance. Never thought I’d be playing chicken with my own ship.

  He waited three seconds longer before shouting into his headset, “Kym, now!”

  The larger ship broke, pulling for clear sky once more. The moment it had left his targeting screen, Jesse mashed on the firing studs. His fire caught the lead Apache head on, disintegrating the fighter before the pilot could possibly have known what was happening. Jesse flew through the fireball, debris bouncing off of the shields as he rolled the Demon to avoid colliding with the remaining three Apaches as he came through the conflagration. He caught the barest glimpse of them as they peeled away to either side to avoid a similar fate.

  “That got their attention,” he crowed.

  “They’re turning to come after you,” Kym said. “We’re coming in to cover your back.”

  “Negative. Get that cloak fixed. We’re likely going to need it again. I’ve got this.”

  “Jesse, it’s three-to-one.”

  “Never tell me the odds.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  To Podo it seemed like they had been travelling for kilometers as they made their way through the arena’s infrastructure. They had descended several levels and then traveled most of the length of the stadium through dimly lit narrow corridors before arriving at a pair of enormous double doors. Mynx checked her map, and nodded. “This is it.”

  She gestured to one of her people, who set to work on the lock, breaking open the housing and attaching cables from a portable computer to the inner workings and running through a series of code-breaking routines. After a few minutes, Mynx ripped the wires away, cursing. Pushing the tech out of the way, she motioned another of her people forward, a tall, ruddy-skinned Icarian. “Make it open, Gwill.”

  The being rooted through a satchel at his side, and pulled out a length of det-cord. Wrapping the rubbery substance around the central lock mechanism, he took a few steps back and connected two lead-wires to a power pack. The det-cord began to
glow red then hot white, burning its way deeper and deeper through the metal. They could hear the locking pins as they were burned through and fell apart within the mechanisms inner workings. With a thunk, the doors split in the middle several centimeters.

  Mynx gestured to Morogo, tossing a thumb over her shoulder at the newly-parted doors. “Your turn, Big Guy.”

  Morogo stepped to the doors, setting his claws between the two halves of the door. Without a sound, he strained against the heavy metal barriers until they at last began to give way, first a few centimeters, then some more. When a sizable gap began to show, others rushed over to help and soon there was enough room for them to slip through single file.

  All the effort was anti-climactic. Beyond the doorway was an empty ante-chamber, with another set of doors opposite the first. Podo looked around, a very bad feeling beginning to settle in the pit of his stomach as he watched Mynx and her people set to work on the second set of doors. “This is all too easy,” he said to Morogo. Even Sneaker seemed to sense the wrongness, turning in all directions, scanning every centimeter of the room they were in, stunners extended and ready. “We need to get out of here now.”

  There was a whoop from one of Mynx’s people as these doors gave way much easier. The group flooded through the doorway into a much larger chamber, which must have run almost the entire length of the playing field which was now directly above them. They made their way in, some playing portable spotlights around the walls. The area was so large that their lights barely made it to the other side. Mynx halted at the almost exact center of the chamber, turning in place, playing her light in all directions.

  Like the ante-room before it, the chamber was empty. Absolutely, completely empty. No weapons of any kind. No crates. No vehicles. Nothing.

  “This should be it,” Mynx said in disbelief as she checked her map. “This should be where everything was stored. It’s all right here.”

  “Maybe we missed something,” one of her people said. “Maybe we’re on the wrong level?”

  She grabbed the man by the scruff and forced the map in his face. “Do you see another level on this thing? We are exactly where we’re supposed to be!”

  “Yeah,” Podo agreed. “Right in the middle of a trap.”

  Before she could reply, a cacophony of voices began cutting in on her comm-band. “What the hell? Where did they. . .”

  “Ohmigod, those things are. . .”

  “We’ve got to get out of here!”

  “Mynx, this is Jaasper. There are vehicles incoming from the south. They must have been hiding in the outbuildings. Heavy armored vehicles. . .” The voice was growing more panicked with each word. “They’ve cut off our escape route. Six, no—twelve or more. At least two dozen. They’re firing . . .”

  The sound of heavy laser weapons being fired cut off any more voice transmissions, followed by the sound of explosions and screams. Static then, followed by silence.

  Mynx’s carefully groomed air of arrogant confidence began to crack. Her dark eyes grew wider as the gravity of their situation set in. She looked to Podo and Morogo. I will not say I told you so, he thought, seeing the animal-in-the-headlights expression on her face. Instead he said, “We need to get back topside.”

  She nodded. “Let’s move people,” she shouted, managing to retain some sound of authority. “Double-time it back to the surface. We’ve got people in need up there.”

  The crowd turned as one and made for the doors, which shut with a loud clang before the first of them made it through. At the same time, the floor beneath them began to shake. At first, Podo thought that it was from the ordinance being used outside, but it was too steady, too constant. Then the squeal of dormant motors suddenly thrust into service filled the air and he realized they were all standing on an enormous lift platform, and it was rising.

  Then the ceiling above them split, and sunlight flooded down upon them.

  ***

  The communication center’s main control room was a smallish affair, able to hold no more than four or five techs at one time, crammed floor to ceiling with communications equipment, and a small broadcast booth with sound and video equipment. Rhasti, Kruk, and Bokschh made it to the room with no further resistance and secured the door behind them. Once inside, Bokschh went to work at once.

  Sitting in a chair at the main console, the drone extended an arm toward one of the input ports. The tip of its index finger flipped back and a data probe extended from within, connecting to the port. As the connection was made, the drone went rigid for a moment as his systems interlinked with the entire Valhalla City communications grid.

  It had been quite a while since Bokschh had connected to a grid this large. To a sentient, the sensation would be akin to flying within a dream. The entire communications grid spread out before him like a digital landscape, complete with buildings, thoroughfares, and transit systems. Bokschh followed one of the thoroughfares, scanning each destination along its route until he found what he was looking for.

  Knowing that direct access to the city’s central communications control would be highly protected against outside entities such as himself, he sought out what would essentially be a back alley; a programmer’s means of bypassing the system’s frontline security. Finding the path he sought, he approached the proverbial “back door”, and knocked.

  “Accessing. “I am negotiating with the host.” the drone said, its voice sounding strangely distant to Rhasti and Kruk. Then it gave a sudden jerk and came out of its paralytic state, turning its head in their direction. “I have gained access. The system is ours.”

  Kruk clapped her hands together in glee. Rhasti clapped the drone on the shoulder. “Nice work.”

  “You will be pleased to know that Kym and the others were successful in disabling the command ship. There should not be any trouble with broadcasting your message to the galaxy-wide nets,” Bokschh said.

  Rhasti gave the drone a toothy grin as he stepped around the console. Kruk readied the video equipment. “Uplink confirmed. We’ve got full broadcast capabilities. It’s showtime.”

  Rhasti stepped before the camera. Kruk made some last minute adjustments, then nodded to him.

  “My name is Rhasti Averdemnaccium, of the Utopian Liberation Movement. I am broadcasting this message to the galaxy at large as a plea for help. Everything you have learned about the planet Utopia is a lie . . .”

  ***

  The sensors on Jesse’s fighter were now reading the three Apaches coming up behind, and their laserfire raining all around him told him they were gaining. He took the Demon low—street level low—sending pedestrians on the ground running for cover. The Apaches followed at a slightly higher elevation, their bursts of laserfire peppering the road just behind him, cutting furrows in the roadway and sending parked vehicles up in gouts of flame. So much for them not wanting to fire near the civilian population.

  Jesse dodged beneath a monorail trestle, then pulled up hard, drawing his pursuers off. They fired freely now that they were clear of obstructions, and Jesse had to juke and roll his fighter to avoid their barrage. Some shots were getting through, and he had to continually adjust the Demon’s shields to keep their levels even. During one such gap, one of the shots got through, blowing a panel off near the cockpit bubble.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to send Kym off with the ‘hawk. A quick check of his instruments told him no vital systems had been affected, but that would not be for long if he did not do something to get those Apaches off his back.

  Leaning hard on his etheric rudder, he turned his fighter toward the section of city with the tallest buildings. Dodging between the artificial canyons, he cut back on shields and rerouted power to the engines. With the extra boost, he gained some distance, but they were still landing hits.

  Closing on one of the tallest resort towers, Jesse hugged the face of it, pulling hard over as he turned the corner. Out of sight of his pursuers, he brought the ship to a dead stop and momentarily cut the anti-gravs,
causing the fighter to drop like a stone until he re-engaged them mere meters from the ground, scattering people on the sidewalks below.

  The three Apaches turned the corner, passing over him unaware. Firing his thrusters once more, he sped after them as he re-engaged the anti-gravs. Without bothering to target, he loosed a spray of laser fire from the Demon’s forward cannons. The trailing fighter took the worst of it as lasers cut into its underbelly. Something exploded, hull plating flying in all directions, and the fighter dropped from the sky.

  Jesse continued the barrage, scoring against another fighter. Smoke began pouring from its engine, and its speed decreased dramatically, but managed to stay aloft. It angled off, heading out away from the city proper, towards the plains to the north. Jesse let it go, knowing full well it was out of the fight.

  He searched the skies, looking for the last of the Apaches, having lost track of it during his maneuvers against its companions. Laser fire from above and to his left struck his shields, flaring with the impact. The Apache was screaming down from out of the sun, cannons blazing. A series of shots got through the shields before Jesse could dodge, blasting holes through what little plating the Demon had. Jesse checked the ships’ status screen, but everything still showed green. Somehow every hit managed to miss a vital system.

  He led the Apache away from the city, out towards the lagoon that bordered the city’s westernmost edge. Clear of any civilian interference, Jesse once more brought the Demon as low as he dared, breaking clear of land and skimming the water at no more than a meter off the surface. As expected, the backwash from his engines was kicking up the water in his wake. The sudden appearance of two fighters screaming at them at such a low altitude startled several performers who were practicing a routine on anti-grav water skis. The complex pyramid they were forming began to crumble into the water seconds before Jesse’s fighter would have slammed through them. By the time the Apache tore past, every performer had been submerged.