Drowned by Fire (Tales of a Dying Star Book 4)

by David Kristoph

  Contents

  Other Works

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Part I: The Commander

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Part II: The Shieldwarden

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Part III: The Children

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  BOOKS BY

  DAVID KRISTOPH

  Tales of a Dying Star

  Siege of Praetar

  The Ancillary

  Sword of Blue

  Drowned by Fire

  The Books of Bathyly

  Pillars of Wrath

  Copyright © 2015 David Kristoph

  www.DavidKristoph.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without prior consent of the author.

  Cover design by Milan Jaram

  Editing by Briana Kirby

  Illustrations by Greg Bahlmann

  Enjoyed this book? Please take the time to leave a review on Amazon.

  To Nana, for always waking us up with a cheerful:

  "Good morning to you, good morning to you.

  We're all in our places, with bright shining faces."

  Part I: The Commander

  Chapter 1

  Jayce was surely dead, or at least he would be soon.

  Lasers fell all around the Commander as he wheeled his Riverhawk fighter, curving down and shooting across the moon's surface in a poor attempt at evasion. The enemies piloted Riverhawks too, every bit as maneuverable as his own. Skill kept him ahead of the reach of their beams, but only barely.

  He kept the ship just above the grey moonscape as he raced away. The Chain rose from the surface in the distance, the long tunnel connecting it to the shipyard to his left. Had the Emperor and his guards made it to the Chain? They should be near its base, he judged, looking at the clock. He considered gaining some altitude so he could see down inside the tunnel.

  Drysane spoke from the co-pilot chair, her voice crisp and worried in his ear. "Two Goshawks at two hundred and eighteen degrees, heading our way. I don't think they're friendly."

  Star-damned fanatics, Jayce thought, gritting his teeth. The whole thing was a mess. Empire-marked ships darted everywhere on Latea, with no way to discern friend from foe. He'd intervened in half a dozen dogfights, choosing who to attack based on his instincts alone. Twice he'd been wrong, knocking innocent pilots out of the sky only to have the ship he'd saved turn on him. May His Luminance have mercy on me.

  As best as he could tell, only fifteen friendly Gold Wing ships remained. They'd taken out the Olitau's massive ordnance cannon, but it still had dozens of smaller turrets scattered across its hull, spraying green in all directions. Even without its main cannon the flagship remained a danger to the Emperor if it reached the Chain. We need to protect the Emperor by distracting the flagship.

  "Jayce," Drysane snapped, "did you hear me?" The Vice Admiral, normally bland and unemotional, sounded panicked. If the Olitau remained hostile then the likelihood of Admiral Acteon surviving was low. Her place should have been aboard the flagship, yet she had quickly taken flight, allowing pilot Brynn to force her into the back of Jayce's ship. The Commander of the Gold Wing had reason to flee the suicidal carnage--how do you fight humans detonating like bombs?--but Drysane had little excuse, and her regret was obviously boiling to the surface.

  That was the only reason Jayce responded without a string of curses.

  "I'm waiting for the right moment," he said through gritted teeth. He saw the Goshawks, above him and to the left, over the tunnel. The light scout craft had little in the way of weapons, but they were fast. They bore down on him with incredible speed, almost within range to fire. The slightest hope tickled his brain, that the Goshawks were friendlies coming to knock the enemy Riverhawk off his ass. He didn't let the thought creep any further. Praying for the unlikely makes dead men of us all.

  Jayce anticipated their attack perfectly, pulling back on his control wheel just as the Goshawks fired. His Riverhawk pulled upward in an arc, just avoiding the shots directed at him. The dark sphere of Melis spun in his view as he executed a half-loop maneuver, twisting when he reached its apex a few hundred feet above the ground. Then he pulled them down and to the right, circling around to where the Goshawks had been.

  They were in front of him, still diving, moving too fast to adjust their course quickly. Jayce's arrow-shaped Riverhawk held six lasers, and all of them fired when he squeezed the trigger. One Goshawk detonated immediately, crashing down to the surface. The other survived longer, trying to use its speed to put distance between them, but Jayce's lasers picked it off before it could get away. It drifted to the white moonscape in pieces.

  "The Riverhawk is still on our tail," Drysane said.

  I can see the star-cursed lasers, he thought. Can't she let me celebrate for even a moment?

  A more skilled pilot would have destroyed Jayce already, no matter his own talent for evasion. The enemy Riverhawk wasn't a traitor from the Gold Wing, that was for sure.

  Still, as Jayce began more maneuvers he had a difficult time keeping the deadly beams from hitting his ship. Flying in a vacuum was vastly different than in a planet's atmosphere. The ship had maneuverability nodes on all sides to allow for multi-directional control. Without air there was no secondary lift, requiring the ship's downward nodes to always be firing to some degree to maintain a constant altitude. Normally that functioned automatically, to give the ship the illusion of flying in an atmosphere. That made it easier for the pilots, gave them a familiarity they could adjust to.

  But Jayce wasn't a rookie out of the Academy, and he needed no assistance. He used a gloved hand to disable the lift thrusters. Immediately his ship began tilting, pulled by Latea's slight gravity.

  He let it.

  He fired the maneuverability nodes, pushing them downward even faster. Alarms sprung to life on the computer screens in his cockpit; they would crash within a few seconds. He ignored Drysane's moans behind him.

  Unable to follow at such a queer angle while its automatic lift thrusters were enabled, the enemy Riverhawk soared past them. Jayce slammed the accelerator lever, pulling their course away from the moon and back behind the enemy Riverhawk.

  It did what it could, executing an evasive S-maneuver, but it was too late. Jayce countered it with his own move, pulled the trigger on his control wheel, and sent flashes of green into its hull. Jayce snarled at the resulting fireball.

  He regained some altitude to assess the situation. The fighting near the Chain had ceased; they'd succeeded in pulling all enemies away from the Emperor's retreat. One of the Chain cars moved up its length. He didn't know if it was His Luminance, but it was surely a good sign.

  The action was back at the shipyard. The Olitau hovered in place there, a hundred tiny craft still whirling and circling her, dozens of dogfights. Although green lasers flashed in all directions, none came from the flagship now. We couldn't possibly have destroyed all the turrets, he thought. Why isn't it shooting?

  "Maybe we've retaken the Olitau," Drysane said, reading his thoughts. She sounded hopeful. "I haven't seen any more aircraft leave her hangar, either."

  "May
be." Whatever the reason, it made their job easier.

  He rejoined the groups of Riverhawks he'd gathered earlier, who had just finished their own individual dogfights. Those who were certainly loyal. Or at least whose loyalty I'm willing to risk my life on. Their radios could be heard by the enemy ships, but it was more important to organize his pilots than to keep it a secret from the enemy. "Gold Wing. Use grid-overlay B. Units two and seven: sector three, talon formation. Units five and six: sector three, pincer toward sector three. Units four..."

  The enemy ships flew as individuals, not in coordinated groups. It was easy for Jayce to single them out, fall on them in organized formations, and blast them out of the air. They fought all around the Olitau, above and to the side and below, using the flagship's massive spreading hull to their advantage. Down within the shipyard the army of electroids, hundreds and thousands of robot soldiers, continued their advance. But once they regained air superiority they would be easy to deal with. And slowly, one ship at a time, the Gold Wing was regaining it.

  Drysane began to cheer with each fallen enemy. Jayce heard hope in the voices of the other pilots as they methodically took control of the sky. His Luminance is safe. Just a little longer.

  A blue beam appeared in the distance, thick and pulsing. The transfer laser from the Ancillary power station, relaying its energy to the photovoltaic receptor. The familiar sight, routine and uneventful, was strangely comforting.

  Jayce picked out another enemy ship, a Sentinel perched high above them all, two missiles streaking away from it toward one of the shipyard's defensive towers. Normally the slow missile boats remained cloaked, floating in constant orbits around Latea or Melis or any other body. However, this one was not in orbit, and needed to keep its engines firing to maintain altitude. The fanatics are desperate indeed, Jayce thought, to have even Sentinels firing uncloaked. He pulled his unit in that direction.

  Suddenly a voice came on the radio: "Commander Jayce, there's--"

  "What in the..." said another pilot.

  "Oh stars save me!" That one was Drysane, which caught his attention. He began to ask what she was talking about, but it became immediately obvious.

  The blue beam from the transfer laser moved across the moon's surface. It gouged its way through the ground, a blue sword hundreds of feet thick, throwing rock and dust and debris into the air all around. Jayce loosened his grip on the control wheel as he watched, transfixed by its glow.

  It moved across the moonscape with incredible speed, striking the base of the Chain.

  It was like a torch touching oil. The explosion was silent and incredible, expanding outward in all directions, a spring flower blossoming before their eyes. He watched with horror as the edge of the fire moved up the Chain and over the Emperor's car.

  Curses and screams of despair filled the radio.

  The fire continued through the tunnel below, burning what oxygen still remained there, but the main fireball winked out as its fuel was consumed. Jayce's eyes searched the Chain. He saw it: a rectangular shape, the size of a small building, falling away from the Chain's length. It dropped agonizingly slow, exploding into the ground in a cloud of white and yellow.

  The Emperor is dead.

  The Chain, no longer anchored to the moon base, already drifted away from the surface with noticeable speed, a tree branch swaying in the wind.

  From behind him came a small voice. "The flagship..."

  Jayce had to crane his neck to see the Olitau, above them and to the right, a sky of grey metal. It began moving, spraying green in all directions as it lumbered forward. The lasers found the defensive battlements on the ground, scattered along the wall surrounding the shipyard, setting them aglow with small secondary explosions.

  The Tortoise transport ships put to flight. Massive, although miniscule compared to the Olitau, they carried settlers and animals and every manner of organic material that would be needed on Tyra, the destination of the Exodus. One-by-one they drifted into the air and began leaving the shipyard, primary engines firing, a line of harmless ships.

  The Olitau turned, bringing its large broadside turrets to bear. When the spear-shaped ship was perpendicular to the transport ships it fired.

  The Tortoise ships were too slow to evade in any capacity. A lance of green struck the first, ripping through its hull and exploding out the other side. Instantly the fire of its engines ceased, sending the mass careening back down to the surface. Two more turret blasts ripped it further apart, sending specks of debris in all directions before it collapsed on the ground.

  The other Tortoise ships did not react, continuing their slow ascent. The Olitau's turrets sprayed green fire again, knocking another from the sky.

  The remainder responded, scattering in all directions. But they were slow, terribly slow, and they could not outrun the flagship's fury. Get away! Jayce thought, willing the ships to move faster, desperately hoping some would escape.

  More ships were launching from the Olitau, emerging from the hangar on the opposite side. Drysane called them out to Jayce, but he already knew. With the battlements in the shipyard mostly destroyed the flagship's turrets began sending lasers toward the Gold Wing.

  The Emperor was dead. The Olitau was taken, and the transport ships were being destroyed. We have no objective, and we cannot win. He wanted to cast the thought aside, to fight against the futility, but the realization stung too much to ignore. For a few heartbeats Jayce felt lost in his defeat.

  "Full retreat," he commanded, pulling his ship around. "Prepare to burn for Melis reentry."

  The other pilots were silent, but followed his lead. As he led them away from the shipyard they saw the army of electroids on the ground, still spreading out, capturing the remaining buildings. There were countless workers stationed in the shipyard and trade port, in the path of the advancing electroids. There was nothing he could do for them.

  Already the Chain had drifted far from its anchor. Smoke drifted from individual fires along its length, but overall it remained intact. A distant part of his mind wondered what would happen to it.

  He pulled his ship up to face Melis. Saria's light already dawned across the planet, a long line where shadow became shade, revealing her blue and white beauty. The Chain extended far into the distance, diminishing into the planet's surface. Jayce tapped at one of his computer screens, entering the commands for a Melis reentry burn. It would require significant power, but they only needed to get halfway there: once out of Latea's influence they would fall the rest of the way into Melis, pulled by the planet's gravity. The computer verified they had enough power, with some to spare. The rest of his ships should have enough too. If not... well, there was nothing he could do about them either.

  He pushed a lever, giving full thrust to his rear engine. The acceleration pulled him back into his seat, tugging at the corners of his eyes. Melis slowly grew before them.

  "A few enemy Riverhawks are following," Drysane said, "but they're too distant. They won't catch us."

  Jayce nodded in response but gave no audible answer. He was savoring their transfer burn. He found the acceleration thrilling, the speed required to leave one heavenly body for another. It was divine, such power.

  More divine than anything else I've seen, he thought with a grimace.

  He was loyal to the Emperor in every way, had devoted his life to serving his will. But to Jayce he was only a man, albeit a powerful one. There was nothing divine about flesh and blood, with knowledge passed-on to offspring. No, the Emperor may be ruler of everything in the Sarian system, a man with the power to order his people to die, but he was surely not a God.

  And most people call the Children religious fanatics, he thought. To him, believing that a man was immortal, passing his soul onto his son when he died, with each star in the universe evidence of a past Emperor's life, was every bit as crazy as worshipping the sun.

  Not that worshipping Saria was better. She was a star, a burning ball of gas, surrounded with planets and asteroids and
everything else. Like the Emperor she was born, lived for a while, and eventually died. Was destined to die soon, the math agreed. The Children refused to accept it, but thanks to physics the star was easily understood.

  Jayce had no God, none worthy of his worship. None but this precise feeling. The acceleration of a ship, the maneuvering of machinery through air or space to kill one's enemies. This was a God that responded to the prayers of his hands. This was God he could feel.

  The Emperor was dead. Saria would die. But this feeling would never end.

  His computer showed them several miles above Latea now. Their speed grew with each second, the ship encumbered by less and less of the moon's gravity. Jayce rested his head against the backrest, savoring the gentle grace of his God.

  Chapter 2

  The computer cut off their thrust when they reached escape velocity. They were now flying fast enough to leave Latea's gravity and fall the rest of the way to Melis. Already Jayce began reorienting his perspective: the planet was below, not above, now. He focused on the thought until his eyes and mind accepted it as truth.

  The computer verified that the rest of his group followed: ten Riverhawks, out of the original thirty. He supposed he should be grateful for that. Ambushed by the Children, attacked from air and ground, staring down the full might of a Melisao flagship... they should all be dead. Whether it was due to luck or skill, Jayce felt happy to be alive.

  The other pilots didn't feel that way. The silence on the radios was deafening. To break it Jayce switched to the ship's private channel and said, "I suppose this makes you Admiral?"

  He'd caught Drysane off-guard. "Huh?" she asked.

  "If Admiral Acteon is dead, or even if he's captured, that makes you acting Admiral."

  "Admiral of what?" she asked. "The Olitau currently controlled by the Children of Saria? The Tortoise ships we couldn't protect?" She snorted. "I suppose the survey and scout craft remain untouched in their hangars at the shipyard. Perhaps I should command them to attack."