He’d mourn the loss of his baby later. There were more pressing matters at hand.
“At least you took one with you,” he mumbled as he lowered with the energy net drifting in the wind. His feet touched down on the ground, the same spot where his ship had cut a ravine into the soft earth.
Rain splatted on his helmet from overhead, and Tom wiped the water off with a glove. His XRC-14 was in his cockpit and now burning up alongside his ship, but he pulled the PL-30 from his hip as he realized where he was. He’d landed directly in the path of the incoming horde of Bacal turned Statu.
Another Tuber was firing toward the ground behind him, aiming for a location half a kilometer away. That was where the Bacal were hiding, waiting for the warship to be cleared. Tom tried to gain a sense of what was occurring when he spotted two figures. They were running toward him, but were still too far away to determine who they were.
“Captain Baldwin, come in.” It was Lieutenant Basker.
“Go ahead, Basker. I’m grounded but alive.”
The Tuber exploded into a million pieces, and Tom noticed two of Cecilia’s fighters in the sky. The Tubers were being destroyed, and soon there would be none left on the planet. Another loud eruption, and he guessed that was almost it for the resistance.
“Good to hear. Captain, that was the last of the Tubers. Permission to exterminate the Statu army,” Lieutenant Basker said.
Tom guessed they’d arrive at his position within three minutes. He didn’t want to be there to fend off the mindless army. He’d seen the videos of their destructive powers. Once the Statu brainwashed their slaves, they were singly focused on killing anyone in their path. This was going to be no different.
“Give me a moment to…”
A ship lowered from the darkening sky as water poured in droves. Tom used a gloved hand like a visor and recognized the expedition ship Cleo as it slowed and dropped toward the ground with efficiency.
The two arriving people were shouting, and Tom watched as Treena Starling tackled a skinny boy. Judging by the dark mop of hair, it was Tarlen, the Bacal boy they’d rescued from Greblok.
Cleo’s door opened at the same time, revealing Constantine’s AI. He didn’t know which way to look.
“Tarlen, stop. You can’t do this. They’ll kill you!” Treena shouted. Tom raced to her side, helping the boy up but keeping a firm grip on his arm.
“What the hell is going on here? Are the people safe?” Tom asked.
Treena stared at the incoming army and nodded. “They’re underground waiting for our word. We have to help the Daaks gain control, but we have no way of communicating with them.”
Tarlen struggled against Tom’s hold. “She’s with them. My sister is there.” He pointed beyond Tom’s shoulder to the Bacal at the rear of the marching Statu. “I saw her… she’s… it’s her.” Water ran over the boy’s face, and Tom pulled him along toward the ship.
“Get on. I’m sorry, son. The fighters are about to rain fire down on them. We have no choice,” Tom said over the now-raging sounds of the storm.
Constantine’s AI stood in the entrance and smiled at Tom as they approached. “Good to see you, sir.”
“Same here.” Tom let go of Tarlen. “Basker, we’re evacuating and heading for the warship. Prepare assault of the ground troops.”
The response was quick. “Yes, Captain.”
“Let’s move out,” Tom said, moving to close Cleo’s door, and he shook his head as he noticed Tarlen wasn’t behind him. Treena had moved into the ship already, her uniform torn and singed, exposing circuit panels. “Tarlen left,” he told her.
“Let him go. We can’t make his decisions,” Treena said softly, and Tom watched through the window as Tarlen began running around the army, a weapon held in his grip. He wasn’t going to make it more than a few minutes.
Constantine’s AI controlled their ship and lifted it from the surface, moving toward the gargantuan warship. Tom couldn’t help but feel like he was heading into the mouth of danger. To see death is to see life for the first time. The old saying from the Code rang through his mind as they neared the hangar, and Tom heard the concussions of the fighters destroying the field of Bacal-turned-Statu soldiers behind them.
____________
They’d met minimal opposition on the bridge, and Brax was glad. The three Statu bodies lay sprawled out and unmoving around the bridge, and he glanced at the lifeless forms, wishing they weren’t visible. His armor had taken a blast, and the metal pressed into his shoulder, but otherwise, he was fine.
“I have it!” Reeve had been working on the controls for the last ten minutes, and Brax could only pace near the bridge entrance, guarding his sister as she attempted to learn the Statu warship controls. They were nothing like the simple Tuber systems, making Brax basically useless in the exercise. But he could keep guard and shoot anything that came close; that he was good at.
“What’s the plan?” Reeve asked him.
He spun to look at his sister, almost shocked to see her in full enemy gear. His gut told him to fire, and he had to block the reaction. “The plan? We move to the location where the Bacal were supposed to gather.”
“Do you truly think they managed to escape?” Reeve asked.
“How should I know? That was a difficult task, but it’s been hours. I think with Penter and Starling’s help, there will be a few hundred there at least,” Brax said.
“Then what’s the plan?”
“We head there, pick them up, and sweep the ship,” Brax said, holding his bulky weapon to his chest.
She nodded, one quick tuck of her chin. “Okay. How are we picking them up?”
Brax cringed. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. They’d used the hover platforms to remove the slaves from the ship, but those weren’t on board any longer. “What about the Mover?”
“The Mover?”
“Yeah, we know the Tubers have them, so that must mean the warship does too. How else did they manage to mine underwater without any tools?” Brax asked.
“Okay, give me a few minutes. I need to find out…” Reeve didn’t finish her sentence as her fingers soared across the crude console.
He left her to it and moved to the wall of screens opposite her. He’d managed to learn how to switch between the deck cameras, and he watched as more of the Bacal were being altered through the Statu system. At least half of them had been turned, and Brax couldn’t take it any longer.
“Reeve, I have to stop this,” he said.
“Wait. I see another ship coming toward us,” Reeve said, pointing to the central viewscreen. There were ten of the screens placed evenly around the round bridge, and he watched as Cleo moved toward the hangar where he’d parked a Tuber.
“Friends?” Brax asked.
“We have to assume. Go to them. See if Constantine can help me on the bridge. They may have to carry his Link with them,” Reeve said.
“Done. Good luck.”
“You too.” Reeve turned away, continuing to scroll through the alien information.
Brax went quickly, moving to the lift, where he made it head toward the hangar deck. He kept his gun at ready, in case it was really Statu inside their expedition vessel. He ran through the familiar corridors, and arrived at the hangar bay, a smile on his face as he saw his commander and captain emerge from the ship.
The grin was wiped away quickly as both of his superiors began firing at him. He’d forgotten he was in full Statu armor.
____________
The first blast sent Tarlen to his knees, the ground buckling hard around him. “Belna!” he shouted, but no one responded. The assault by the lowest of the fighters tore the earth open, the first row of Statu-turned Bacal falling into the rift.
Tarlen rose, moving for the edge of the few-hundred-person group. So far, none of the armored people had attacked him, and he guessed they didn’t see a single Bacal boy as a threat. He used this to his advantage, opting for a risky play. He cut into the group, pressing past the ro
ughly-armored people. His people.
By the time he reached the end of the Statu suit-wearing rows, another blast shook everything. “Stop!” he shouted at the fighters, realizing no one would hear him. Why were they attacking his people? Deep down, he understood their reasoning, but seeing faces of his kind from Greblock, he didn’t think he could fire on them, even if they were no longer his allies.
“Belna!” he shouted again, moving through the ranks of Bacal. They were smelly, their stench overwhelming as he touched them, grabbed shoulders, searching every girl with long black hair.
“Belna?” He was trying to remember what side he’d seen her on through the Zoomer, but couldn’t in the heat of the moment. Another concussion erupted, sending people to the ground around him. Fire burned now, clothing and skin beginning to melt together in his nostrils.
He was about to run away, to save himself, when he located her. Everything seemed to slow. Another blast, this time from an even lower fighter, hit the ranks, but Tarlen hardly noticed. He only had one job, and that was to rescue his sister.
Someone pressed into him, then another, and another mindless slave as they ran in tightly-formed lines. They were pushing him away from Belna. “Belna!” he yelled again, but there was nothing even remotely like recognition in her eyes. She was as brainwashed as the rest of them.
Tarlen dropped to the ground, scrambling through a pair of open legs. He crawled to his feet, and finally made it to Belna’s side. He pulled on her arm, and she turned, walking where he directed her.
He placed his hands on her cheeks, tears streaming from his eyes. “It’s me, Tarlen. Belna, I know you’re in there.” But her eyes told him otherwise.
Tarlen heard the screech of the fighters’ thrusters coursing above, and he glanced up to see four of them in formation. This was it. There was no escaping this unless he was quick.
The rest of the slaves were marching toward the people hiding underground, and Tarlen was running out of time. He tugged Belna hard, turning her around, and with her limp hand in his, he ran.
Somehow her legs kept up with him, and he panted as they moved, the rain pouring so hard, he could hardly see ahead of him. They were moving away from the group being attacked, and far from the oncoming assault as the fighters did a fly-by, lowering toward the horde.
The resulting noise was excruciating, and he shoved Belna hard, jumping on top of her as the impact of the attacks took hold. Clumps of dirt and grass rained overhead, as well as pieces of their people. A Statu helmet hit the ground directly beside them, and Tarlen hoped there wasn’t a head still inside.
He rolled away from his sister, and she stared upwards into the rain, her eyes unblinking. “Belna, we have to move. We have to get to the warship.”
She grunted as he assisted her to her feet, and they moved together, stumbling toward the looming vessel. The entire region was devastated, and there weren’t going to be any survivors above ground, except for him… and his sister.
They finally reached the warship, his legs covered in mud up to his mid-thighs, and Tarlen slipped as he stopped beneath it. He glanced up, the vessel hovering right above the surface. Now he needed to find a way on board. From this vantage point, the warship was terrifying: narrow and pointy at the bottom, a dozen or so uneven arms jutting from the central ship as he peered up to the top.
Tarlen jumped but couldn’t even grab the lowest rung on the bottom of the ship. There had to be another way.
As he stood there contemplating it, the warship began to rise upwards, and his hopes of survival sank.
Twenty-Five
Their target moved quickly, and Treena missed with her first blast.
“Stop! It’s me! Brax!” The voice made her smile, but Captain Baldwin must not have heard it, because he fired again, hitting the wall slightly above their chief of security.
“Sorry! Old habits!” Thomas shouted, and crossed the room as Brax pulled his Statu helmet off. He was sweating underneath, and he licked his lips.
Treena joined him. “What’s going on? Did you secure the ship?” she asked Brax.
The big Tekol shook his head. “Not quite. Reeve is on the bridge, but they’re making slaves for their army with the Bacal on Deck Ten.”
“We’ve seen the first regiment. They’re likely dead by now,” Captain Baldwin told Brax, and Treena saw the pain in the man’s eyes as he heard the news.
“Then let’s stop them from producing more. I’ve only seen about five or six enemy on Deck Ten, so we can make quick work of them,” Brax said.
“What about Reeve?” the captain asked.
“She needs help. Can you bring Constantine’s Link with you, sir?” Brax asked.
Thomas Baldwin nodded and raced onto the ship, returning in a minute with the Link in his hand. It was snapped under the dash console, meant to remove to bring the AI with you when necessary. This was one of those times.
The AI flickered on in the hangar. “How can I be of service?”
“Come with me. I’ll show you how to operate the lift.” Brax turned, jogging deeper into the enemy ship. Treena glanced around it, feeling uneasy about their adventure. They were on board a Statu warship. These were things that fueled nightmares, and she tried not to look at the uneven walls, the crude welding jobs, or the loose wires. Judging by the condition of the ship, she doubted the Statu were very organized this time, but there was an enemy fleet about to enter communication territory with the planet. Even if they had ugly ships and outdated weapons, they were still dangerous.
Brax motioned Thomas and the AI onto the elevator system and sent them on their way to the bridge. Thomas handed Treena a tiny earpiece before rising away. “Put this on. We can talk.”
“Finally,” she said, pressing the small device into her ear. “Captain?” she asked when he was out of sight.
“Yes, Commander?” he replied.
“Good luck,” she said, stepping onto another lift platform with Brax. They lowered in the opposite direction, and she saw Brax staring at her.
“Is something different about you?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I’m a little dirty.”
“Okay. You also have a hole in your back,” he said, his face impassive.
“That… that’s nothing. You should see the other guy,” she told him.
“I knew there was something off about you, Starling,” Brax said.
“No one’s perfect.” Treena shrugged and the lift stopped. Brax didn’t press her for details, but she expected to have to explain soon. He’d never been told about her controlling an artificial body, but he probably guessed as much now.
Brax had taken charge, and she let him. He lifted a finger before sprinting to the outer edge of the doorway. He mouthed a countdown from three, and when he said one, he slammed a hand on the red door-release button. It hissed upwards, opening into a room of over two hundred miserable Bacal.
A few of them pushed past Treena, their questions coming in a flurry.
“Hide in the hallways. Stay as a group. We’ll be right back. Can anyone tell me where the Statu are?” Treena asked, and a thin white-haired woman pointed at a doorway across the room.
Brax was already moving for the door, gun in the air. She joined him as more and more Bacal rushed past her. He didn’t wait for her as he opened the next door. He was already firing by the time she arrived, witnessing one of the Statu crash to the floor. She found one of them helmetless, and aimed for its face. Her first blast missed, but the second hit it directly in the throat. Treena fired again and again, until its left leg stopped twitching.
“Two more,” Brax whispered, walking through the space. There were intricate booths here, each with lights and metal bars around them. This was where they programmed their slaves, and Treena wanted nothing more that to destroy the terrible machines. She wondered how many humans, Tekol, Callalay, and others were put through devices like this during the War, only to result in them fighting their own people. Likely millions.
Brax met her gaze and must have sensed her revulsion. “We can worry about this when we have the ship secured. Got it, Commander?”
“Understood.” She pushed the dread away, and they stood on either side of the last door.
He tapped the release button, and she spun, firing the gun at the Statu. Instead of two, there were ten of the Statu in armor, and she was unable to determine which were real enemies and which were recently turned Bacal. As all ten returned fire, it didn’t matter. They were all her targets.
____________
“That’s right. Ease the ship up, like that,” Constantine said, directing Reeve.
Thomas Baldwin stood in the center of the enemy warship, arms crossed over his chest as he watched his chief engineer pilot the ship. So far, all she’d done was raise and lower it, but she was getting the hang of it. He expected they’d be set to rescue the others in short order.
“And the Mover. You really think it’ll work?” Tom asked Constantine.
“By all accounts, it should. It appears the lower half of the holding decks is filled with the ore from Greblok, and we can program it to drop the people into these decks,” Constantine said, running a projected finger in front of the screen, showing Decks Sixty to Seventy. “There is enough capacity to hold them.”
“Then it’s time.” Tom pressed his communicator. “Starling, are we cleared?” He didn’t want any surprises after they’d taken off.
“Working on it, sir.” He heard blasts from weapons as she spoke, and soon she spoke again. “Cleared, sir. We’re checking the cameras now, but unless there are Statu hiding out, which I expect there will be, we think the ship is devoid of enemies.”
Tom smiled widely. “It’s done. Under the directive of the Concord’s Code of War, I claim this vessel for the Concord.”
Baldwin's Legacy: The Complete Series Page 27