He raised his hand again. Every trooper in the surrounding stands readied their weapons. The hovercraft across the way leveled its cannons in their direction. Boke threw his arm down and the troopers opened fire.
The convoy, still lead by K’Tran, slowed to a halt on a rise just outside the city limits, looking toward the stadium. The Starhawk screamed past, cannons strafing a line of combat vehicles as they approached the building. Fireballs, debris, and columns of thick, black smoke filled the air as each vehicle crumpled underneath the assault.
Cheers erupted all around as those in the convoy watched the destruction the ship was wreaking on Boke’s forces. Some of the vehicles attempted to return fire, striking air as the Starhawk swept by, too fast for any shots to hit. The ship climbed briefly and circled back, laying down another cannonade. Several more craft were destroyed, the rest turning to run before the ship could complete another turn and come at them again. Another round of cheers went up.
Then the Starhawk climbed into the sky, and abruptly disappeared.
Raychel had jumped down from her transport and approached K’Tran and Kwinn in the Antares. Her jaw was slightly agape at what had just happened. “Did your ship just. . .disappear?”
“Cloaking device,” he replied, and let out a chuckle. “Things must have gotten really hot for Kym to use it. She never wanted the thing on board to begin with.”
“So where did they go?” Kwinn asked from the cannon mount.
More explosions could be heard from inside the arena now, followed by puffs of black smoke. “I’d say that there’s your answer.”
“Do you think we should help?” Raychel asked.
“Don’t really know that we could do much more,” K’Tran answered. “Besides, I’m not going to risk all the others by bringing them in too close to a firefight. Why don’t you two go wait with the transports? I’ll go on ahead and check it out.”
Raychel gave him a look, then climbed onto the back deck beside the cannon. “I won’t speak for him,” she nodded at Kwinn. “But if you’re going in, I want to be along.”
K’Tran started to reply, saw the look of stubborn determination on her face that was so reminiscent of Alyssa’s, and thought better of it. Kwinn could only shrug.
“I’ll catch hell for this,” K’Tran said.
After indicating to the drivers of the two Capissen transports to stay behind, he feathered the throttle and started down to the stadium.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Boke dropped his hand to his side, and his troops opened fire in unison. Every nerve ending in his body felt electrified, adrenaline rushing through his body as he watched the crimson beams of death rush toward the group of insurgents huddled below. Now it all ends here, he thought. Tomorrow this entire affair will be a distant memory, and I will rebuild, making this world an even greater spectacle, and I will be certain to oversee every aspect.
He had plans for this world, big plans. The galaxy at large already thought of Utopia as a wonder. Now he would take every opportunity to prove it to them. He would reopen the mines, perhaps as a tourist attraction this time out, fully automated, as well as every other service offered in Valhalla City. Sentient beings were too much trouble, and would be weeded out of as many service positions as possible. Drones and other automata would answer directly to him, and there would be no more discord. Automatons were not very keen on insurrection
The trooper’s fire, coming from all directions, was withering, and trapped in the open, with no cover, these pitiful rebels had no hope of survival. So Boke was understandably curious when none of them started dying. Every shot fired seemed to vanish before traveling even half the distance as the air around the insurgents rippled and blurred with a strange incandescence. A sudden roar and rush of wind surged through the arena, growing more intense by the second as a shadow fell over the crowd of resistance fighters.
Phantom-like, a ship began to take form overhead, as it descended into the artificial canyon of the stadium walls. Boke knew it to not to be one of his own. There was only one ship it could be.
Having extended its shields like a bubble to protect the rebels on the ground, the Starhawk opened fire the moment its cloak was down. The hovercraft was the first casualty. A pair of missiles tore the vehicle neatly in half. Boke watched as the ship began to rotate in place, hovering a few meters off the ground, its cannons picking off troops one at a time. A few stood their ground, but the majority dropped their weapons and ran for the exits the moment the ship started turning in their direction.
Drones, Boke thought, watching as chaos fully descended upon his forces. Security will most definitely be comprised of drones. Can’t depend on sentients. Cowardly beings, the lot of them.
He watched in a state of detachment as the ship’s cannons ripped into those troops too stubborn to run. He heard their screams, watched as they flew through the air as the cannon blasts lifted them off their feet. His thoughts turned distressed. I suppose we’ll have to completely refurbish this arena when this is all over. What a bloody waste.
Below, the main group of rebels saw their chance and began making for the exit newly vacated by the destroyed hovercraft. The Starhawk ceased fire and dropped its loading ramp. Boke watched Forster’s companions disappear inside, then the ship lifted away, clearing the arena walls. It turned in the direction of Valhalla City.
What an ugly ship, Boke thought.
Jesse’s fighter was dying. The smoke from its starboard engine was pouring thick and heavy and the anti-grav generator was nearly dead. Jesse had to rely on the ship’s thrusters to keep it aloft. A dozen other warnings scrolled across his display screen, none of which he had any time to read. He was too busy keeping from plummeting to the ground.
The arena was in the distance. Smoke was visible from several points within and outside the massive structure, and as he drew closer, he could see people streaming from the exits. Then the Starhawk lifted into the air from the center of the building, turning skyward.
His comm was out now, and he had no way of contacting his ship to get a status report. Maybe his friends were safely aboard, or they might still be somewhere in the arena, Boke’s troops having sufficient firepower to repulse the ship. There was only one way to find out.
He brought the nose of his Demon up, intending to circle the stadium to get a view of the inside. A sudden shriek issued from the over-taxed starboard engine, and the smoke billowing from it just as suddenly stopped. The engine was dead and the fighter started losing altitude, barreling straight for the arena’s outer wall.
Guess I’ll be getting a more up-close look than I planned, he thought, throwing everything the fighter had left into its remaining engine and the ship regained some air. If it held, he would just clear the outer wall.
A comm tower loomed in his path. Jesse fired a wild burst from the cannons, toppling it just before his ship would have slammed into it. Another shriek, and the port side engine also died.
He fought the control yoke to bring the fighter’s nose up, attempting to glide it to a landing. Rows of seats flashed by underneath as the Demon fell from the sky. Jesse was able to level off just as the fighter cleared the stands. Its belly struck the artificial turf of the arena floor, bouncing so hard that even despite his restraints, his head almost hit the top of the canopy.
The Demon struck ground again, sliding along on its belly, tearing a furrow through the turf that stretched out behind it. As it slowed to a halt, the cockpit began filling with smoke. Jesse worked the controls to open the hatch and found them frozen. Searching through the smoke, he found the emergency release and triggered it, the canopy blowing up and away.
Jesse scrambled out of his seat as flames began to sprout along damaged and leaking fuel lines. He was mildly surprised to find all his limbs still in working order. The front end of the fuselage was plowed so far into the turf that it was a simple matter for him to walk from atop the cockpit onto flat ground.
Turning, he surveyed the path of dest
ruction his landing had wrought, marveling at his luck. Had the fighter dropped another meter a few seconds sooner, it would have struck the more immovable duro-crete structure of the stadium bleachers. There would have been no walking away from that.
The click of a weapon being taken off of its safety setting made him freeze. He turned slowly, regretting the fact that he had not brought a weapon of his own with him. Boke stood a few meters away, holding a heavy laser rifle left behind by one of his men, and the barrel was centered on Jesse’s chest.
“I see that Mister Scarab was ineffectual in putting you down,” he called, taking a few steps closer. “I would, of course, have to fire him for that, but something tells me you’ve taken care of that chore for me.”
Jesse brought his hands up, looking around for any way to get out of this particular predicament. There was nothing nearby that he could even use for a weapon, and he had no time to make a grab for it even if there were. “I think it’s safe to say you can remove his name from the rosters for your company Christmas party.”
Boke chuckled, but the look on his face quickly grew serious. “You’ve been more of a pain in the ass than you’ve had any right to be, Forster. But through it all, you’ve also helped point out some very major flaws in the way certain areas are handled around here. I don’t know if I should kill you, or hire you on in charge of process improvement.”
Jesse hazarded a shrug. “I doubt you’d want to review my resume.”
“You’re right, of course.” He hefted the weapon, sighting through the scope. “Looks like I at least have the satisfaction of killing you myself.”
Jesse was at a loss. There was no way he could dodge in time. Boke’s finger tightened on the trigger and the signature whine of a heavy laser rang out. Jesse flinched, expecting to feel the weapon’s blast burn its way through his abdomen.
Death did not come to him in that instant. Long seconds followed before he noticed a large hole had formed through the middle of Boke’s chest. The industrialist stared dumbly down at the wound for several moments before sinking to his knees. It was only then that Jesse saw Raychel standing a few meters behind him, brandishing a weapon of her own. Beyond her, K’Tran and Kwinn stood, looking dumbstruck.
Boke looked up from his open chest, meeting Jesse’s stunned gaze, but his eyes were already dead. His mouth moved without sound before he crumpled to the ground.
Raychel kept her weapon leveled at Boke’s inert form for a long moment. No one dared speak. There would have been no words anyway. Her eyes met Jesse’s. “I told you I’d kill him.”
Then the young woman dropped her weapon, sat down, and began to sob.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Starhawk set down outside the arena, amidst the carnage of burning vehicles and the hundreds of beings now wandering the grounds. Kym, Podo, Morogo, Sneaker, Godfrey and Metcalf all stood around the loading ramp, watching as people sought out lost loved ones among those climbing down from the Capissen transports. Occasional cries of joy rang out as family or friends were reunited after long stretches of being separated. More vehicles were pouring in from the main part of the city. Some carried those beings seeking someone out among the throngs, some with those who had participated in the resistance efforts in the city itself, and others carrying mere curiosity seekers, treating this day as just another tourist attraction.
Kym leaned against one of the hydraulic supports to the landing ramp, arms crossed over her chest, watching a young Icarian mother and child run into the arms of a tired-looking, but smiling, Icarian male that had climbed from one of the transports. The trio made happy, chattering noises as they gripped one another tightly.
“All throughout this whole affair, I kept wondering if we were really doing the right thing,” Kym said, watching the Icarian child dance about while the adults continued to embrace. “Now I know it was.”
“Gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling,” Podo replied. “But then, I’m always warm and fuzzy.”
Kym rolled her eyes, giving the Warwick a playful cuff on the shoulder. She looked over at her two newest crewmembers. “You guys were pretty involved in all of this. Don’t you need to be out there looking for someone?”
Godfrey shook his head. “I got into this because I saw what Boke was up to. Working in customs we saw some pretty shady dealings. After I learned what was going on with the disappearances, I knew it was time to do something. I heard about a movement, so I sought them out.”
They all looked to Metcalf, who sat on the ramp, watching the proceedings with a detached look about him, unspeaking. Laying a hand on the man’s shoulder, Godfrey answered for him. “He lost someone. He knows she’s not out there. He did this for her.”
Kym felt her heart break for this man who had shown such courage throughout their adventure. She too, put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently. A whisper of a smile played across his face as he continued to sit in silence, watching the events around him.
They saw Mynx wandering among the crowd, her head turning constantly one way, then another. The hard as nails, warrior woman look had gone from her eyes, and she now looked to be on the verge of tears as she scanned the faces of beings milling about.
A voice shouted out above the din of the crowd and she whirled, just as a Harkonian male came from the other direction. He was tall, covered in filth, and limping badly, but he made his way as best as he was able. Mynx cried out and ran to him. The pair embraced with such violence that they lost their footing, falling to their knees as they exchanged kisses and held each other, weeping into the other’s shoulder.
“What do you know?” Metcalf said quietly, the first thing he had voiced since they landed. “The Ice Queen melteth.”
Kym chuckled and continued watching as the two lovers continued to alternately laugh, cry, and kiss, oblivious to all the rest of the galaxy around them.
“Yep. Definitely worth it,” she said.
***
Jesse sat alone in the arena atop the still smoking remains of his fighter, staring into the sky. K’Tran had rushed to his side to check on him, but after confirming that he was okay, he and Kwinn had then escorted Raychel, who was still sobbing softly, out from the arena. Boke’s body still lay where it had fallen.
Jesse wondered how the girl would fare now. Though driven by the need to avenge her family, he suspected that had not been her only source of strength. Her tears had come as a relief to him. She accomplished her goal of killing Boke, saving Jesse’s life in the process, but the fact that she could still feel remorse for the act showed that she was still human. He felt confident that she would recover from her past ordeals, only becoming stronger.
Strong like Alyssa had been.
More trouble still loomed on the horizon, for him, his crew, and every being that had taken part in this little insurrection. Boke’s heirs, if he had any, would come screaming for blood, and his investors would want answers as well, if only so that they could discern which parts of his empire they could possibly snatch up for their own. Once proper authorities arrived, an inquest was sure to be held, and someone would have to shoulder the blame.
He startled out of his ruminations by the sound of shuffling footsteps behind him. Turning, reaching instinctively for a sidearm that was not there, he saw the Kammaran mechanic from the airbase approaching, looking over the downed starfighter. He let out a soft sigh as he surveyed the scene, before looking at Jesse. “At least she went out in a blaze of glory.”
Jesse gave him a sheepish grin and shrugged. “Sorry. Guess I broke my promise.”
“I’d much rather see the old girl put to good use like this than see her sit in one of Boke’s showrooms as just another museum piece.” The mechanic replied, waving off Jesse’s apology. His wide mouth turned upward in a Kammaran smile as he appraised Jesse. “You did a good thing today. You did her proud.”
Jesse grimaced. “For all the good it did,” he replied, his earlier thoughts coming back to him. He gestured around at the destruction wrought just
here in the stadium, with no idea how bad things were further out in the city. “Someone’s going to have to answer for all of this.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, son,” the mechanic placed a hand on his shoulder. “Boke’s lawyers may scream loud enough to fill the void of space, but there are plenty who will tell the truth about what really happened here. And not just those poor beings from the mines. There are enough of us who worked for Boke who are willing and ready to tell all about what we heard and saw. There will be justice. I’m just sorry that bastard isn’t alive to see everything he built up on the graves of others come crashing down around him.”
Jesse contemplated the mechanic’s words. Perhaps they would get away with this without a prison sentence. Rising, he started for the exit. “I suppose I’d better see to my crew.”
“I spoke with your engineer,” the Kammaran said, falling into step beside him. “Offered her our services in making repairs.”
“That’s very kind, Mister—” Jesse shrugged again. “Sorry, I never got your name.”
“Denseph. Madjo Denseph. No mister.”
“Jesse Forster.”
“I know,” Madjo said, taking the hand Jesse offered. “We may have been stuck on that base, but we still watch the newsfeeds. You and your crew are making quite the name for yourselves. Now you can add despot-toppling to your impressive resumes. You’re fast becoming celebrities.”
Jesse grimaced. “I’ve heard that a little too often lately. Not a title I’m comfortable with.”
The Kammaran chuckled as they made their way out of the stadium. “We all have our burdens.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
As the day wore on, the rings of starship running lights that had encircled the planet had dissipated as ships headed for their homeports. In the wake of the revolt and spreading rumors of Boke’s death, most, if not all of the tourists had vacated quickly, fearing reprisals against them. By nightfall, only two ships were visible holding station above Valhalla City in geosynchronous orbit, the aptly-named Confederation cruiser Liberator and the Harkonian medical frigate Solace, having been the two ships in closest proximity to Utopia.
The Starhawk Chronicles: Rest and Wreck-reation Page 19