“Five minutes at least. At full power,” Wiz informed.
“Get the shields up,” said the captain. “Prepare to run for it at first sign of aggression.”
“I say we run now. Four iffin Drednots closing in on us is plenty aggression,” Fenny said in a sour tone.
“It’s not, Lieutenant,” the captain replied. “Commander, are you hearing this?”
“Yes, Captain,” Ross said. “We’re ready for your orders.”
“Good. We’re waiting for the first salvo.”
Ross drew a sharp breath and stared fixedly at the ceiling. “He’s expecting an attack,” he muttered. “This isn’t good.”
“We can fight back, right?” Ramya asked hopefully. The Endeavor had a good amount of firepower, it was faster than those behemoth Drednots, and it was close enough to the NAB to take cover. There was a chance, even if slim.
Ross scoffed. “Fight four Drednots? I sure hope Captain Milos can work magic. I’ve no idea what he’s planning.”
Ramya stole a glance at the Stryker. The source of all trouble was sitting quietly, its vulturine face lifted up as if studying them.
“Captain,” Fenny shouted. “The turrets on the flanking ships are being positioned. They’re taking aim at us.”
Ramya braced herself. She remembered how the ship had rocked when the GSO’s Cutlass had shot its tractor beams on the Endeavor. A Drednot’s lightest weapon was usually a depleted halfnolium missile.
“Captain, the ships have fired,” yelled Fenny.
“Wiz, fall back and head into the NAB,” the captain said.
The Endeavor tilted sideways, and at the same instant, an ear-splitting blast sounded somewhere near the left side of the ship.
“They’re aiming at our left ancillary thruster, Captain,” Wiz shouted. “Shield took a hit.”
“Just get us to the NAB, Wiz,” the captain replied calmly. It was strange that his voice hadn’t raised even a notch. “Commander, prepare to board the Stryker.”
Ross blinked. “Captain, what do you mean? The Stryker’s doors have been closed since—”
“Rami will show you how,” said the captain. “Wiz, to the right.”
Another blast rocked the Endeavor and Ramya would’ve been knocked right off the bench if Ross hadn’t grabbed her by the arm. She had just managed to whisper her thanks when she noticed Ross’s glare. “The captain said you’ll show me how. What the hell did he mean? How would you know anything about the Stryker?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Ramya said. It was clear that the captain had not confided in Ross about the AI, but now was not the time to explain. She had no clue what the captain wanted her to do when she got inside the Stryker, but she knew she had to follow his orders. The Endeavor swaying nonstop under her feet, Ramya slipped and skidded her way to the Stryker’s door.
“Dakrhaeth, open up,” Ramya shouted as she knocked.
“What are you doing?” Ross demanded. “Who is—”
The door opened noiselessly revealing the ovoid chamber Ramya had seen earlier. The dark sphere on the pedestal was glowing brighter than before and it kept bobbing up and down in its glass container. Dakrhaeth was undoubtedly excited.
Ramya scrambled in, Ross after her. The door closed behind them.
“You took your time, Mihaal,” Dakrhaeth said accusingly.
“Sorry,” Ramya blurted. She felt Ross’s incredulous stare wavering between the sphere and her back.
“Dakrhaeth didn’t expect a response too quickly, Mihaal. It’s normal for your kind to take their time,” Dakrhaeth said. Ramya gritted her teeth. There it went again, the boastful, arrogant, thing. And to think barely moments ago she was feeling sad to dump it on an asteroid. “The pilot’s chamber is to your left,” the voice went on. “There is also room for a co-pilot, if you think your partner is capable of handling the stress.”
“What the hell does it think it is?” Ross growled. Ramya stifled a chuckle. Funny that it took him so long to explode.
“Get into the pilot’s seat, Ensign,” the captain’s loud voice blasted over the comm. Clearly he had been listening in on the conversation. “Fenny will open the hatch and let the Stryker drop off the Endeavor.”
“And then what?” Ross asked. “What are we supposed to do?”
“Use the Stryker to fight back. Find a way to save the Endeavor. Try to keep all of us alive,” the captain replied simply.
That was, to say the least, a tall order . . . a near impossible order to be honest. But there was no time to dither. Ramya scrambled, breathlessly rushing into the opening to the left of the entry chamber. There were two chairs made of the same dark metal as the sphere that was Dakrhaeth.
“The left seat is yours, Mihaal,” Dakrhaeth said.
A barrage of thoughts that should’ve assailed Ramya long ago came careening through her mind now, leaving her insides in a slushy pile of fear. What in the stars was she doing here? Two years of flight training didn’t change the truth. Ramya had blacked out the first time she had flown into space in a scramjet, and this was not even a simple starfighter—it was a biomechanical oddity of a ship with a living, talking Locustan soul inside it. This was no place for her.
“I don’t think I can fly this,” Ramya said to Ross, her plea only making his stony eyes gleam with anger.
“Too late for that, don’t you think?” he hissed.
“Get into the seat, Rami,” the captain commanded. “We don’t have time. The Drednots have blocked the AP, so we can’t get back into the SLH. Now they’re chasing us into the asteroid field, blasting every rock in their path.”
As if to make his point, the Endeavor shook again. A groan of metal—deep and disturbing—reached Ramya’s ears. The Endeavor didn’t stand a chance against four Drednots. But then, she couldn’t be the answer, could she?
“Captain, I’ve no idea how—”
“You don’t have to know, Ramya,” the captain replied. “If I’m correct then—”
A familiar cloying voice interrupted the captain in its usual self-important way. “Dakrhaeth will show you the way, Mihaal.”
As if that was a guarantee of anything.
“Get in, Ramya,” Ross said, spitting out her name like it burned his mouth. He was already strapped into the seat to the right of the pilot’s chair. “Fenny, open the hatch,” he said.
Ramya whispered a small prayer to the stars before sliding into her own seat. She expected it to be cold, but it was surprisingly warm and so pliable that it seemed to mold itself to the contours of her body. Restraints—six of them in all—slid across her torso and held her tight. It was odd how she suddenly felt safe.
The instrument panel flickered and came to life just as Ramya heard the grating of the hatch. She scanned the buttons at a furious pace, trying to understand what each meant. The layout of the panel was similar to a standard Kiroff-manufactured fighter, only larger and with more switches. Ramya quickly identified the basic controls: the flight stick for directional control, the throttle, the launch buttons for the weapons and the like.
A voice sounded reassuringly in her ears. “All you need to do is order, Mihaal. Dakrhaeth do anything you ask, he’s is always with you.”
Perhaps he was. But Ramya was not going to depend blindly on an AI, and certainly not a Locustan AI.
“Hatch opened,” Fenny said on the comm. “Untethering the Stryker now.”
“Godspeed, Ro—” The captain’s voice broke as the Stryker tumbled out. They fell, out of the lighted insides of the Endeavor and into the dimly lit rock-strewn expanse of the Noxillian Asteroid Belt. Panic rose in a tumultuous rush and flapped like a wild bird in Ramya’s chest. She wanted to scream. And run.
Breathe!
It was getting difficult to breathe, but Ramya didn’t give up. She had to be brave; she had promised Captain Milos. She had to come through for him and the Endeavor and its crew.
“Switch the thrusters on,” Dakrhaeth whispered into her ear. How he spoke just to h
er, she didn’t have a clue but she listened nonetheless. Ramya’s fingers touched the sleek white button with the red ring.
Keep breathing!
The thrusters on the Stryker came to life and the craft steadied, hovering behind a large asteroid. Ramya felt a movement and she realized the craft was morphing around her. The cockpit slowly rose until she could view all around her. Ramya looked out the windows to assess their situation, realizing suddenly that the improved viewing capability was not something she was thankful for . . . at least not at this moment.
“We’re so cooked,” Ross said.
Indeed. Ramya had never seen a Drednot up close even though she—like everyone else in the galaxy—had often marveled at the formidable battleship’s descriptions in books. But four of them pointing their turrets in her direction didn’t seem like the right time for making an acquaintance and certainly not the time to appreciate their beauty or their power.
The Drednots were immense. They looked like they meant business. And right now their business seemed to be wiping the Endeavor off the face of the galaxy. The only thing that stood between the behemoths blasting their way through the asteroid field and their puny target was a punier fighter—the Stryker.
“Can you set up a channel to the Endeavor?” Ross asked. “It’d be good to talk to the captain.”
“No,” Dakrhaeth replied in an instant. “Their communication equipment is severely outmoded and out-synched from mine.”
“Damn!” Ross muttered. “Keep trying, will ya?”
“I will.”
Ross turned and shrugged at Ramya. “Looks like we’re on our own.”
They were. Orphaned by the Endeavor. Alone.
Ramya breathed in deep and stared resolutely at the mammoth Confederacy ships. The more she looked at her outsized foes, the calmer she felt inside. The captain had only tried to do the right thing, and instead of thanking him, the admiral had set these deadly ships loose? This was unfair. This was wrong. Ramya had to make it right. Even though she had little idea of how she was going to take out these giants, there was no doubt in her mind that she was going to make it happen.
“Dakrhaeth,” she called. The steadiness of her own voice surprised her. She recalled how Captain Milos had disabled the GSO’s Cutlass. “I do not want any loss of life. I want to immobilize them or take out their weapons. So, let’s go get them, one Drednot at a time.”
“Thought you’d never ask, Mihaal,” Dakrhaeth said.
Ramya glanced at Ross. He was scanning the buttons and levers spread out in front of him, and now he looked up at her. There was no anger in his eyes, only a steady resolve. Ramya was sure his anger hadn’t vanished but that Ross had put it away for the moment.
“Let’s do it,” he said.
They were going to do it or die trying.
21
Two Drednots stood like sentinels near the AP, blocking the path to the SLH. Two others chased the Endeavor, blasting their way through the asteroid field as their quarry scuttled from the shelter of one rock to another. One definite advantage was the Endeavor’s size and agility, and both came in particularly handy in the asteroid field. But the Drednots’ weapons easily cleared a path through the maze of rocks.
Ramya drew a sharp breath when she saw a bright blast rip apart a chunky asteroid the size of a small moon to pieces. The Endeavor had thankfully moved away from behind its shelter or its shields would’ve taken a beating from the flying rock debris. One thing was clear: the Endeavor’s clock was ticking down fast. A good hit could cripple the ship or even annihilate it.
They had to take out the Drednot leading the charge, Ramya thought, and then the next one following. She was sure that once the two Drednots were put out of action, the other two near the AP would join the hunt. Also, the moment the Drednots detected the Stryker, they’d come after it. But if the Stryker was quick enough or stealthy enough, they could create some room for the Endeavor to get back into the SLH.
She nudged the Stryker forward, hugging the rocks and keeping away from a direct line of sight from the Confederacy warships. They could easily pick up the Stryker’s presence from a scan and they probably already had, but Ramya was not revealing herself unless she had to.
“Dakrhaeth, what weapons do you have on?” she asked the AI.
“Torpedoes,” Dakrhaeth replied curtly.
There was a moment of stillness before Ross shot a disbelieving look at Ramya. She knew what he was thinking: How could a fighter craft as advanced as this only have torpedoes?
“And what else?” Ross finally asked.
There was a moment of silence, which Ramya found odd. AIs were supposed to be fast, weren’t they?
“You’ll find my Stinger torpedoes quite powerful, Ross,” the AI replied. “However, discussing weapons is beside the point. I recommend paying more attention to the flying or slowing down.”
Ramya hated to admit, but Dakrhaeth was correct. Asteroids—some pebble-sized, some almost as big as the Drednots—zoomed past the Stryker. If one were to hit the Stryker . . . Ramya quashed the fear. She was not alone. Dakrhaeth was with her.
The ease with which the Stryker maneuvered, almost caressing the curves of the rocks, yet never going close enough to get the proximity sensors blinking, Ramya was pretty sure Dakrhaeth was helping. Good to have a backup, she thought. As long as they got the job of saving the Endeavor done, she didn’t care who helped her.
Ahead of them, the Drednot leading the attack fired a salvo off its ion cannon, and a brilliant flash later, two asteroids crumbled to pieces. For a second, the Endeavor was in the open, and then it ducked, scooting to find shelter behind the nearest rock. Ramya pushed the throttle to maximum and swung past the last asteroid that stood between the Stryker and a direct view of the leading Drednot’s dorsal turrets.
“Mihaal,” Dakrhaeth called. “We have a direct line of sight.”
“I’m going to take out the ion cannons,” Ramya declared.
“With torpedoes?” Ross asked, skepticism evident in his voice.
Dakrhaeth replied quickly, “Do not underestimate my torpedoes, please, Ross.”
“That’s ‘Commander Ross’ to you,” Ross snapped.
“My mistake, Commander.”
“All right, all right,” Ramya cut in impatiently. Now was not the time for tending to bruised egos, not when the Endeavor was fighting for its life. She eased the Stryker forward, keeping a steady distance from the leading Drednot and its turrets. “Prep the torpedoes.”
“Ready and prepped, Mihaal,” came the instant reply.
Ramya breathed in deep. “All right, once we’ve taken these out, we have to get over to the other side and hit the other turrets.”
“Not a good idea,” Dakrhaeth quipped.
“What?” Ramya blurted, taking her thumb away from the red button of the torpedo launcher.
At that precise moment of indecision, bright white light flashed across the window. The Drednot had fired on the Endeavor again. The blast ripped an asteroid to shreds, and Ramya was sure a sizeable chunk of rock debris had hit the Endeavor seeing the way the ship shuddered. That did not look good. A shield would only hold up so long. There was no time to discuss strategy while the Drednot was bent on wiping out the Endeavor. That could wait until she had distracted the battleship a little.
Ramya placed her thumb back on the red button and gave it a firm press. A rumble spread under her feet and seconds later a blast enveloped the Drednot’s turrets in a wave of light. The shield has probably stopped it, Ramya thought.
“Try another one, Mihaal,” Dakrhaeth suggested.
Ramya pressed the launch button again, hoping the next torpedo would get through. It did. Another flash of light and the turret fell in pieces off the Drednot. Ramya heaved a sigh of relief. That’d buy them and the Endeavor a minute or two, at least.
“Explain, Dakrhaeth,” she yelled, hugging the shadow of a large puckered rock. “Why isn’t going for the other turrets a good plan?”
> “Running around trying to destroy each of their weapons is not a realistic choice. There’s not enough time and too many targets. Besides, we do not have an unending supply of torpedoes. Also, you’ve already attracted their attention,” Dakrhaeth replied calmly. Sure enough, the second Drednot had turned their way. A blast of light fell on a large rock behind them and rock debris went flying past.
“Damn,” Ramya cursed, diving to avoid the pieces.
“It’s better if we target their engines or their reactor and disable them. They’d be as good as a space rock without those,” Dakrhaeth said calmly.
That was a good plan except the Drednots had layers and layers of protection. Ramya had always enjoyed looking at the ship designs. Even after her father had stopped her from entering the Kiroff factories, she often hacked her way into the design department’s archives and pored over the stacks of data. The Drednot was one of her favorite ships and she knew the reactor and the engine was pretty much unreachable. Trying to get to them would only be a waste of firepower. However, the engine . . .
“What the iffin hell, Rami?” Ross yelled.
Ramya blinked and stiffened. For a second, while she was trying to recall how the Drednot was built, she had drifted from the urgency of the situation. Thankfully, Ross had taken over the flying and the Stryker hopped and dodged and swerved to keep away from the blasts of energy that kept on coming.
Ramya shot a grateful look at her co-pilot. “Thanks,” she muttered, and Ross responded with a curt nod.
“Next time, let me know before you switch off,” he added.
“Don’t worry, Ross,” Dakrhaeth chimed in. “I’m always here. Monitoring the situation and . . . assisting.”
It was obvious Dakrhaeth had been assisting. Like a shadow, he was bringing the weapons online, correcting flight paths, adjusting speed. Without him, they’d be lost. Ross however, didn’t seem to appreciate the information.
“Any ideas?” he demanded.
“I was thinking . . . we can’t directly hit the engine,” Ramya replied breathlessly, “but we can take out the support pylons. That could severely impact the engines.”
The Last Stryker (Dark Universe Series Book 1) Page 18