“Steady—fire!” Wilkins ordered.
Their shots sparked off the bird’s armor and began to ricochet around the interior of the shuttle.
“Aim for their legs and heads!” Wilkins shouted now.
Coop was too far back to see their legs, but there were a lot of heads to target.
The first line of birds went down. The tapping got louder, even competing with the sharp sound of their shots. The lines of birds began to blur as the storks adjusted to their tactics.
Smoke drifted in the air.
The tapping increased.
They couldn’t use grenades in the confined space. Wouldn’t need to self-destruct at that point.
“Stun,” Wilkins ordered.
Against the light from the stork ship, Coop saw a figure rise and toss something. As the stun device clinked against metal, two of the storks charged that position. Shots pelted them. One stork went down but the other stabbed at the Marine with its beak.
It’s beak.
The soldier’s body armor deflected the attack, so the bird shifted, finding the connect point in the plates.
The beak lifted, red dripping from the point. The man shrieked as it stabbed again. Someone concentrated fire on the stork as it started to drag the screaming man away.
The stun device detonated.
The stork went down.
The screaming turned to moans.
“Cover!”
Two figures darted forward and dragged their comrade back.
On the shuttle, the storks appeared to be regrouping. They’d beat back the first wave, but how did they win this battle?
“More shuttles incoming,” Arian intoned in their ears.
And then Coop heard a hissing sound at the top of the curved stairs that led to the upper deck.
* * *
Arian was aware Dr. Janeck was struggling to keep the array locked down but she could not help him if they died now. There had to be something on this ship she could use to tip the balance of the battle—
She stared at the list of weapons again, picking then discarding items as the Mycterians launched their second assault. On the upper deck, they were almost through that door.
Suddenly she stiffened. Perhaps she was looking at the wrong list. She pulled up the propulsion options and stared at the last one.
Comet drive.
She glanced at the video feed. The Marines were fighting desperately. Another one went down from a vicious stab from a cruel beak. His comrades fought them off. Again they used a stun weapon to drive them back. The chatter in her comm told her what she needed to know. If the Mycterians breached the upper hatch, when the third wave launched, Coop would say the words.
She would have to end all their lives.
She had seconds.
She flicked on her comm. “Secure for comet drive transit.”
Coop gasped, might have started to protest, then snapped, “Brace for…impact.”
Even as she spoke, her fingers input the jump data. They only needed to jump a short distance. Even so, it might tear the ship apart.
How did they wish to die?
She initiated the drive.
* * *
If she’d asked, Coop might have opted out of making a comet drive jump with two enemy shuttles suctioned to their shuttle. In the seconds before the storks started to come back, they had just enough time to use their carabiners to secure themselves and the injured.
He’d thought it was weird to make the jump from the cockpit, but apparently, the location just made the view more interesting.
A sort of ripple, like being under water. Ripples flowed out, passing first through the stork shuttle. It elongated, first one direction, then the other. He had a vague memory of Arian mentioning unstable space around a comet drive. This was why they’d moved away from the Boyington before the jump, he guessed. He might have closed his eyes, but he opened them immediately, and the view had changed.
The stork shuttle broke in half. Stuff not nailed down rushed past them as the compartment depressurized. There was no way to fix this, so he hung on. As near as he could tell, so did the Marines.
At least one of the storks had tried to hang on. Its claws were hooked into the decking, the legs bloody where a body had been.
He wanted to ask Arian about what hostiles were left from the larger battle, because he had a feeling they’d be super pissed, but his brain might still be bouncing around the inside of his skull. And then he realized it might be the shuttle bouncing…
* * *
Arian opened her eyes, shook her head and blinked. Where—?
She was in the shuttle, but when—her eyes jerked open. She looked right, then left.
Lights were flashing multiple silent warnings. Dazed, she looked around, trying to figure out—emergency power. Most systems were offline, including inertial dampeners. What data she had reported hull breaches in both the rear and upper chambers. The view screen had several fine cracks running from one side. She tried to close the cover and couldn’t.
Comms were down—Coop. How long had she been out? How long would their portable oxygen systems last? Where was the enemy? She tried tapping her comm but heard only a buzz and a brief crackle. Videos were offline, too.
They were in a spin, she realized. Looking out made her dizzy, so she focused on her controls. Smoke drifted in the air, some of it coming from the control panel. She put her hand on her restraint clasp, hesitated, then shrugged. If the front screen blew, she was dead anyway. She crouched down and pulled open the panel. It was a mess. She made what adjustments she could, and then scrambled back into her seat and tried communications again.
If Coop was gone…Arian slumped for half a second, what did it matter who was out there?
And then she heard it. Tapping, someone was tapping on the door to the rear compartment. She flung herself at it, pounding, hoping to be heard. She had no tools, she looked around, found the panel cover and clanged it against the door.
She heard two sounds, then silence. She leaned against the door, her cheek pressing into the metal, tears running down her face and blood dripping from her hands where the panel edges had cut deep. Pain and hope warred for dominance.
Then the shuttle jerked, as if grabbed by a giant hand and the spin began to slow. She staggered over to the controls, but the self-destruct was offline, too.
* * *
Arian was still alive.
For now.
Coop leaned his head against the hatch and took a couple of deep breathes, until he remembered he would need every bit of oxygen he had left. Using hand signals—their comms were offline—the Marines tended to their injured and their dead, then everyone strapped into the seats.
He could tell, from the view out the rear, that they were in a slow spin. Now he knew how Apollo 13 felt. He kept trying to look, to see if he could tell if their transit had done any damage to the storks.
There was a sudden lurch, a definite jerk as if something had latched onto them. He looked at Wilkins, who looked back, but neither of them could do anything but look. Then they turned toward the rear, where a section of the stork ship was still attached.
A ship loomed up in his sightline, and his heart might have stopped. Or skipped a few beats.
Until he realized it was pink.
The good birds had arrived.
27
Ghrym was a genius, which is why Bester paid him enough credits to keep his loyalty. His price would go up after this. Bester could still not quite believe what had happened. He tossed back the drink. That felt real enough.
What weapon had destroyed so many ships?
What was this place? What did the Mycterians know what no one else seemed to know? Bester did not know what to call this…hole…in space, the gap the Mycterians had been attempting to expand by firing on the areas around it.
“We have to get ahead of them, Ghrym,” he told his captain. For the first time, he wondered if Ghrym would refuse an order. The crew was loyal to Gh
rym, not Bester. But Ghrym was as loyal to credits as Bester. Their accounts grew together. In the end, the credits tipped the balance, though barely. “They can’t see us. Surely that gives an advantage?”
When Ghrym had begun to thread the ship through the mass of Mycterian ships, Bester’s courage had failed. To stop himself from rescinding his order, he started drinking. He’d been drunk enough to appreciate his captain’s cleverness. He’d maneuvered the ship in to where it was almost resting on one of the big ships as they slipped through the opening.
On the other side was a hidden star system. If the Mycterians wanted in so badly, there must be much to plunder here.
And his artifact.
His artifact was here. The beacon was stronger on this side. Now he could also see a massive and intricate array. Elfel almost drooled at the sight of it. Ghrym had slipped the ship away from the battle formation as soon as he could, speeding up their flight when the opening closed behind them. Bester didn’t ask how they would get out. His attention was completely on what was ahead.
They were barely clear of the Mycterians when the front line of the formation exploded, the intensity of it blinding their sensors. Ghrym pulled them back, and waited, not daring to move until their sensors came back on line—just in time to give them a front row seat for the battle.
When it was over all that remained was one damaged ship, a debris field of Mycterian ships, and many questions.
He’d been tempted to order the capture of the damaged ship that had done this, but who else might see them if they dropped their cloak now? The array must have eyes on both sides.
Caution had been rewarded when the unknown and mysterious fleet uncloaked to collect not just the damaged ship, but another smaller ship. And then it was gone. Leaving them stuck inside with an unknown number of cloaked ships.
Stuck. Inside.
That troubled him more than he cared to admit, despite the level of alcohol medicating his metabolism. Once they’d secured his artifact they had to leave. According to Elfel, this was the only weakened section of the array. He would be working on how to get out while they got their artifact.
Bester had his finger on the comm to call Ghrym and get them headed toward his artifact, when Elfel called him.
“Now what?” The euphoria of the drink, and the adrenalin from the battle were fading. He had a headache and a knot in his middle that he didn’t like. It felt something like fear.
“Now that we are inside, I have been able to scan more precisely for the beacon.” Elfel hesitated. “I am sending you the data.”
Bester didn’t want to see it. Not now. But he opened the file when it arrived. He studied the ship. Noted the beacon flashing from inside a larger ship. “They have my artifact?”
“It would seem so, sir.”
The disposition of the big ship puzzled him. It was on an intercept course with this region, but even as he studied the data, an update alerted him to a course change. It was heading in system, toward a cluster of planets well away from this region. He altered the view. Huge debris field there. Cluster of planets in the bottom half of the system. There was almost a line that divided the debris from the planet section. “No one can see us, can they?”
“I don’t think so,” Elfel said, though he did not sound certain.
“Were you able to scan them?”
“Very limited data, sir.” A hesitation from Elfel. “I needed to take care. The surface of their ships is—” he stopped.
“Is,” prompted Bester impatiently.
“Do you remember those sea creatures we transported to—”
“I remember,” he cut in. The memory of the creatures still bothered him. And put a price on his head in certain systems where the creatures were protected.
“Every part of the surface was a sensor. I believe these ships are the same.”
Bester blinked. “Sea creatures?”
“Sensors, sir. Hypersensitive sensors. Able to detect almost imperceptible movement and sound.”
Bester glanced around. Could they hear them talking?
“Have we ever seen anything like these ships?” he asked Elfel.
“No, sir.” Elfel sounded regretful.
Bester felt regretful, too. Something that unique—he was here for another purpose. Once they’d delivered the artifact, they could return.
Perhaps.
He sobered enough to do some equations. Two small ships. All those Mycterian ships turned into drifting debris, the fleet outside the array in full retreat. They would need to tread carefully in this system. And focus on getting out with their prize. He touched the comm control. “Set a course for that beacon, Captain. And let’s try not to leave an energy signature for them to find.”
Part IV
28
It still surprised Coop that they weren’t all dead. One casualty. Coop tried to rub that memory away. They’d more than avenged him. The comet burst drive’s instability had destroyed the ships too close to them, setting off sympathetic detonations that had turned the stork fleet on this side of the array into a new debris field.
Wilkins had been injured in the battle. Coop had stopped in to give him an update on the other two injured men. Both should be all right, but it had been a near thing. Wilkins thanked him, but the news didn’t lighten his expression much. He’d lost a man.
As he made his way back to the bay containing the two shuttles, Coop faced the fact that they’d lived but that wasn’t necessarily the good news. The shuttle was a wreck, and they weren’t dead, so he’d be making explanations to Pappy at some point. At least they hadn’t lost both shuttles, though Tiger wasn’t happy at missing the fight. His shuttle had been tossed around some by the multiple explosions, so he wasn’t surprised when he found Arian working on repairs there.
The wreck of their blood splattered shuttle was a sobering reminder of what they had survived. And just why the Phoenicopterians feared the Mycterians.
He would have liked to know what the birds thought about their near invasion miss, but it wasn’t his job to ask questions. He propped a shoulder against the side of the shuttle and watched Arian wrestle with some wiring.
“At least we didn’t lose this one,” he muttered, as the sight of her started to mess with his thinking. She had streaks of what could be oil on her forehead and cheek, both bandages, and scratches in a variety of places. She’d stripped off the jacket of her ABU’s, which left her arms bare, the tee shirt hugging her curves—she winced, stopping to massage her ribs. “You hurt?”
She looked up, managing a smile despite the strain in her eyes. “I am well.”
She wasn’t. Exhaustion pulled at her eyes and mouth. He held out a hand. “Take a break. That’s an order.” He even used his order voice, but he was careful how he helped her up when she took his hand. She stumbled and he let her bump into him, then wrapped his arms around her, not as tight as he’d like, but for now, it was enough to hold her. It surprised him when the hand he lifted to smooth down the back of her head shook slightly.
After a slight stiffening, she relaxed into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
She didn’t smell great. Neither did he. He didn’t care. If he could have, he’d have found out just how alive they were. If he could have. Even if they’d had the privacy for that, he could tell her ribs bothered her more than she let on.
“I am sorry,” she murmured against his chest.
“For what?”
“That I did not think of it sooner. That soldier…” She shuddered against him.
Coop’s lips thinned. How long had the cameras kept working? “I’m sorry you saw that.” He hesitated. Never had he been more aware that words weren’t his thing. And he probably hadn’t needed them more. “I could have told you to initiate the self-destruct sooner. I didn’t because I still had hope that something could or would change.” He gently tipped her chin up so he could see her eyes. “It was risky, right?”
“Very,” she agreed, but her lips trembled.
“You did the right thing, waiting until there was no other option.” He smoothed a hand along the side of her face, fighting not to pull her hard against him and erasing the haunted look in her eyes. “Okay?”
She nodded, then hesitated, biting her lip. He wished—he cut that thought off. “What?”
“Where I came from, I realize now, was…violent…but they had…smoothed the rough edges of it, kept it mostly out of sight. People just vanished. Or came back different. changed.”
“First time in battle is hard for everyone. It digs down to the core of you, finds out how bad you want to live.” He didn’t tell her it was his first hand-to-hand, that his battles had been—not sanitized but less personal. It would be a long time before he forgot.
Maybe she saw it. He didn’t know. She lifted a hand, resting the palm against his cheek.
“I do not know the words I feel inside.” He opened his mouth, but she moved her fingers to stop his words. “I have changed. You changed me. When I left my world, all I wanted was away.”
“And now?” As he spoke, his lips brushed her fingers, like a kiss.
“Now, I only want you.”
Did she know what that meant? Looking into her eyes, he didn’t think so. There was still so much innocence in her gaze.
“I…want…you, too.” He knew what he meant, but he also knew that this time it meant more than just sweaty time in the sheets. He cupped her face with both hands and pressed his mouth to hers, taking it easy because he felt like he could go up in flames. Didn’t even need a match. He eased back, knowing they weren’t alone, though they were alone inside the shuttle at the moment. So he whispered the words against her mouth. “I love you. I’ve never said those words to a woman before. I know you don’t know—yet—what that means, but for me, it means forever. For always.”
He was surprised to feel the warm tears slide into his fingers. He smoothed the tear away. “Please don’t cry—” he stopped as his gaze connected with hers. The horror wasn’t completely gone, but dawn was breaking in there, too. And hope. It was the first time he’d seen her show it, he realized.
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