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

by David Kristoph

  He ignored the sarcasm. "The chain of command falls to you, regardless."

  "Terrific." She paused before continuing. "I don't like leading. I'm a better adjutant, allowing someone else to take command while I assist."

  Her tone made it obvious who she meant. "Hah! Find someone else, Admiral. You know I'm leaving."

  It was the third time they'd had the argument. Two days prior, when all was still peace, he'd gone to Acteon to explain his intent to relinquish command of the Gold Wing, remaining behind on Melis instead of accompanying them to the Tyran system. Drysane had tried to forestall him, insisting he wait until the Emperor had left to break the news to Acteon. A lot had changed since then, but she still thought she could talk him out of it.

  "You're good under pressure," she said. "You handled the organization back there flawlessly."

  "That's only one wing, not an entire fleet."

  "You would make a fine Admiral."

  "I have other plans."

  Drysane coughed. "And what would this woman think of you for leaving your duty? Aside from her, what else would you have without a ship to fly?"

  He shrugged in his seat. "Whatever we want." There was nothing she could do to convince him. The attack on Latea only increased his desire to get to Karrana, to ensure her safety. She was an instructor at the Academy in Luccar, which had been the target of a chemical attack a few days prior. She had not been harmed in the attack--thank the stars--but the Academy likely remained a target for the Children. He needed to reach her and take her to safety, wherever that may be. That was more important to Jayce than any command, any title. But first I need to officially resign. It was an important distinction to Jayce, turning over the command in front of the Emperor's heir. Seeing him nod his head in acceptance. It needs to be official, or Karrana will never forgive me. Stars, she might not forgive me even then.

  Drysane must have realized arguing was futile, because she said nothing more.

  The planet grew all around them as they drifted into its atmosphere. Saria still hung low on the planetary horizon, creating a white sheen across the planet through which it became difficult to see. Without any points of reference it appeared they were hardly moving. They would fall halfway through the atmosphere before beginning a long turn, spiraling down in concentric circles, using the resistance on their wings to slow them down. They had enough energy for a suicide burn--dropping straight to the ground and firing the thrusters at the last possible moment--but Jayce suspected Drysane would not appreciate that.

  They fell into the cloud deck, puffs of white shooting past the cockpit. In spite of everything it felt comforting. Jayce had not realized how tense he'd been. Although he led the Gold Wing, he typically only controlled tactics, not strategy. Usually he received a high-level command, and decided the best way to accomplish it.

  Ordering the Wing's retreat was not an easy decision. But who else could have made it? Acteon and the Emperor were gone, and as acting Admiral Drysane would have listened to whatever he recommended. The difficulty of the decision, the doubt he began to feel, added validity to his decision to step down.

  Now that they were returning to Melis he had a clear path. Reach the palace, alert them to the Emperor's death, and turn the Gold Wing over to the next in command, pilot Brynn. Although the Emperor's son was young and inexperienced, His Luminance had a council of advisors who would take charge and give orders. They didn't need him at all.

  Jayce did not know what the Children would do next, but he knew what he would do. The Olitau was an orbital ship, built to remain above a planet while sending smaller craft down into the atmosphere. However, it could still descend to a planet in an emergency. It would consume most of its power doing so, and would need to be refueled before it could return to orbit, but it could be done.

  A ship as massive as the Olitau would have free rein throughout Melis. It could park itself above Luccar and lay siege to the city without challenge. Jayce suspected they did not have very long before the Olitau arrived. Hand over the Gold Wing, search the city for Karrana.

  Suddenly the cloud deck disappeared. The Chain stood to the right, which meant--yes, Luccar spread directly below them. The river and man-made lake bordered the city on the west, with domed farming fields just on the other side of the lake. The tall Wall separating the inner and outer city framed his view.

  "Can we begin slowing down now?" Drysane asked.

  Jayce considered poking fun at the uptight officer--she surely deserved it, for all the times she'd pestered him--but instead he grabbed the control wheel with both hands. He pressed two buttons, switching the ship from vacuum to aerodynamic controls. He checked his radar to make sure he had enough distance with the other ships and then gently pulled the wheel toward his chest. The Riverhawk flattened out, its underside pointing toward the ground. He initiated the rear engine.

  Now he pushed the wheel away, tilting the craft back to a slight angle. To the untrained eye it might appear nothing was happening, but the computers showed his horizontal velocity increasing, their fall slowly becoming a glide. The radar showed the other ships doing the same. Soon he was gliding diagonally.

  He nudged the control wheel sideways, testing the atmosphere-based steering. The Riverhawk turned obediently at his touch, a fraction of a degree. He increased the engine power gradually, testing the controls every few moments, until he reached the proper horizontal speed.

  Jayce turned the ship, beginning the wide spiral down to Luccar. They were still several miles above the city. He maneuvered the spiral so they would circle the Chain on the way down, using it as a point of reference.

  "What will happen to it?" he asked the silence.

  "What will happen to what?"

  "The Chain. Will it crash? I'm not an engineer," he added with a bit of humility, "so I haven't the slightest idea what it'll do."

  She thought a moment. "I don't think it would crash. I guess it would stay in the air, just off-center from Latea?"

  "Doesn't it need to be anchored into the moon?"

  "Maybe," she said, "but I think Latea's gravity would keep it somewhat in place, or pull it back to the original position. Either way, it will take a long time to repair. Getting supplies and goods to and from orbit will need to be done manually until then."

  Jayce chuckled. "If the Praetari can make do without a space lift, so can we."

  The radar screen flickered. It showed a three-dimensional representation of the space around the Riverhawk, with friendly craft marked in green. The number had grown from ten to twelve. More blips appeared high above them, and gaining.

  But they weren't friendly craft, of course. The computer couldn't know better, but Jayce did.

  Drysane called them out before he could. "Four Goshawks and nine Riverhawks following us to the surface."

  They were moving fast, much faster than Jayce's group. They continued to dive, not bothering to slow themselves with wide circles. They would be on them soon, and with advantageous speed and position.

  "Ten Riverhawks now. No, eleven."

  Starshit, he cursed. The Children weren't wasting any time. "Is the Olitau behind them?"

  "Not that I can see."

  "Well let's assume it is. We're already outnumbered by the smaller craft. Once we get lower the city's defenses will help us." He switched to the group radio channel. "All units follow my lead."

  He pulled the ship out of the spiral and dove straight toward the ground.

  His stomach lurched in that wonderful queasy way. He felt the rush in his head, blood and danger and daring. The city began spreading, growing larger every second with an enthusiasm that had been missing in their slow spirals. Only the Chain, a hundred feet to his left, gave away their speed with its blurred surface. The rest of the group followed, but the enemy craft were still gaining on them. His altitude decreased rapidly, the numbers moving too fast to discern on the screen.

  "Luccar ground defense," Drysane spoke. "This is Gold Wing unit one, hailing Luccar grou
nd defense." There was no answer.

  Jayce stared at the radar. He thought they would reach the city before the enemy came within striking distance. I also thought all sixty members of my Gold Wing were loyal.

  "Luccar ground defense, this is Gold Wing unit one. Luccar ground defense..."

  A crackle on the radio. "This is ground defense station four, we copy you unit one. What in the stars is going on? Everyone knows something's wrong but nobody is giving out information."

  Station four was on the western section of the Wall. Jayce was still high enough that he needed only adjust his course slightly to steer toward it.

  "We're coming in fast, station four," Drysane said. "The first twelve Riverhawks are friendly, I repeat, the first twelve Riverhawks are friendly." She listed off their individual unit numbers.

  "I don't quite understand, unit one. The others are hostile?"

  "Yes. Unit seven: hostile. Unit fifteen: hostile. Unit seventeen: hostile."

  "My radar shows..."

  Jayce flicked the switch controlling his microphone. "Listen. We're going to make a pass over your section of the Wall. Give us some fire when we do?"

  "You got it, Commander."

  Another voice spoke, from one of the pursuing Riverhawks. "Negative ground station four: unit one is hostile. He is leading a rogue Wing attempting to attack the city. We are in pursuit; please assist in any way you can."

  "No!" Jayce snarled. "Ground station, that man is a traitor. They've killed the Emperor and have taken the Olitau. They're preparing to attack the city."

  "You are attacking the city," the other pilot spat back. "See how he spouts his lies, claiming His Luminance is dead?"

  He's good, Jayce thought with a groan. "Ground defense, I have authorization code jay-six-bee-see-eight. Punch that in and you'll see it's me. And if you can't trust the Commander of the star-cursed Gold Wing then you might as well give up. Now again, we're coming past you. Give us some damn cover when we do."

  He flicked off his radio. There was nothing more convincing for him to say, and hearing the traitor's lies on the radio would only make him angrier.

  With the trunk of the Chain next to them it felt as if they were falling to the ground from a huge tree. His nerve wavered, the panic of the dive beginning to scream its displeasure in his mind. Just a routine J-maneuver, he thought, though there was nothing routine about how fast they were going. But if he pulled up any sooner than was necessary the Children following them would intercept them too soon, before they could reach the cover of the Wall's defenses. He thought of the eleven other pilots still with him. Veterans all, though many had not seen action in several years. Would their nerve remain steady?

  No.

  The radar showed one of his Riverhawks pull up, leveling-out the dive far earlier than was necessary. Jill, no! With dismay Jayce watched as two others, units two and four, followed her.

  Instantly, one of the enemy ships adjusted to follow. With their speed decreased the ship fell on Jill and the others easily, intersecting them after a few seconds. Jayce closed his eyes as their indicators disappeared from the radar.

  He didn't need to get on the radio; the others all followed obediently after that.

  Jayce waited until what felt like the last possible moment to safely perform the maneuver, and then he waited some more. Finally he eased back the control wheel. The ship resisted as he pulled up, their speed making it difficult to turn. He couldn't stop himself from looking at the ground as he fought the controls; he could see the tall buildings, and make out individual streets and train rails. If he couldn't pull up in time they would crash in the inner city, somewhere west of the Chain. Ejecting would just have them drift slowly from a parachute, to be shot down in the sky or captured. What would the Children of Saria do to a captured Gold Wing pilot? Jayce didn't want to find out.

  His brain processed everything in slow-motion. He was at a forty-five degree angle, still too steep. The cockpit shook violently, as if tapped by a thousand tiny hammers, threatening to fall apart from the wind resistance of the turn. A wide street below ran east-to-west, with tall buildings on either side. The buildings reached up, clawing at him. His ship fell between them, avoiding their fingers. Drysane cursed as they leveled-out twenty feet above the ground, accelerating with new purpose.

  Jayce added his voice to hers, a scream of relief and triumph. The street was one of the main boulevards, wide enough for several craft to fly abreast if need be. Buildings whizzed by on either side of him, and the Wall loomed in the distance ahead. They would be there in seconds.

  Barely appearing more than blurs, individuals in the street stared and pointed, some fleeing into alleys and buildings. With relief he saw that the other eight ships executed the maneuver safely, all of them following behind him on the radar.

  Beams punched into the street all around them, green sledgehammers that kicked up fire and debris wherever they touched. Glass shattered from buildings, spraying shards into the air. Jayce thought of the steadfasts in the streets and hoped they were fleeing in earnest.

  With a curse Jayce pulled-up, regaining altitude. He rose above the tall buildings, past their flowing green rooftop gardens, back into the open air, until he was the same height as the wall ahead. Normally he would divide his Wing into two units, with one performing a half-loop twist to get behind the enemies following the other group. But he was hesitant to issue the command with enemy ears listening. Instead he began basic evasive maneuvers, turning and twisting, avoiding the beams that whizzed erratically past his ship. He felt like he was back on Latea. Same shit, different surface. He wouldn't last long.

  The Wall was a long horizon. It was more symbolic than functional, as any aircraft could pass right over it, but it was still armed with defensive turrets--square-shaped bumps on the top spaced every hundred feet. Jayce aimed his Riverhawk toward one. The barrels of its triangle-shaped gun stuck out like a needle. He would fly directly over the turret, giving the men inside a head-on shot at the enemies following him.

  If they're loyal to the Emperor, a thought whispered, the dead Emperor. If there were traitors in the Gold Wing, why not the city's ground defenses? Why not the palace itself? And if the enemy confused them enough over the radio...

  The turret moved quick and precise, aiming at Jayce. It fired.

  The beams cut through the air above him, and only after a moment of panic did he realize they were shooting at enemies behind. It spat its green, pausing momentarily as Jayce zoomed overhead.

  "Two enemies down," Drysane called.

  They soared across the top of the Wall and into the outer city. The buildings closest to the Wall stood tallest, but even they were only six or seven stories, a village compared to the might of the inner city towers. No rooftop gardens here, either. The buildings were pale brick, decrepit and unmaintained.

  He pulled the ship in a tight turn, coming back around to the Wall. The rest of his Wing had figured it out: they were dogfighting above the Wall, allowing the defensive turrets to help swat at the enemy craft. Jayce made a quick pass across the first enemy he came to, hammering a volley of beams into its engine. It fell, crashing into the side of an inner city building. He did the same for another.

  The rest retreated soon after, disappearing to the west over the river and crop domes beyond. Dimly Jayce wondered where they were going, where they thought safety was, but he was too relieved from the victory to give it much thought.

  "Look, there," Drysane said. Jayce looked over his shoulder and saw her pointing below, down inside the old city. A mass moved and writhed in the streets, spread out over several blocks. It took him a moment to recognize it was a crowd of people, packed together tightly.

  "Why aren't they taking cover from the battle?" Drysane wondered. "They could have been killed by the debris."

  Jayce continued circling over them, aircraft tilted so he could watch. The crowd was moving, he realized. East, toward the Wall.

  He watched them steadily advance. Now t
hat the enemy craft had been fought off they needed to return to the palace to regroup and refuel, but something gave Jayce pause...

  There, a flash of green. Someone had fired a weapon into the air. They were too far below to possibly hit anything, but another fired too.

  "It's an attack." Jayce said. He tapped at his computer. "Ground defense, I've got eyes on a mass of civilians in the outer city. Eight blocks from the Wall, headed your way. They're armed."

  "Thanks for the eyes, Commander. We've been on heightened alert this week, so we're ready for whatever attack they try." He snorted. "They try this every few months, sending a few soldiers at us with whatever weapons they've managed to find. We're not concerned. If they--" he cut off suddenly.

  Jayce shook his head, though that didn't exactly translate over radio. "I see several hundred down there, ground station. I don't know what percentage of them are armed, but..."

  "Enemy craft returning from the west," the man's voice suddenly said.

  "They're coming back around?" Jayce asked, surprised. They couldn't have refueled and returned that fast.

  "Different ships this time," he said. "Thirty-four incoming. Riverhawks and Goshawks like before, with fourteen new Widowrens and five Seahawks. A few Faerywrens too. Where the stars have they come from?"

  Jayce turned until he could see them. They were a thin cloud against the blue sky, still specks in the distance over the domed crops. The Widowrens and Faerywrens were planet-only aircraft, fast and maneuverable, deadly in groups. Seahawks were wide and slow, gunships filled with more bombs and missiles and lasers than half-a-dozen Riverhawks combined.

  He cursed loudly, not caring who heard over the radio. "We don't have enough fuel for a prolonged fight. Where the stars are the city patrols?"

  "Their base isn't responding."

  Jayce didn't have a choice, but it burned at him anyways. Is that all he could do now? Retreat? It left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Gold Wing, return to the palace barracks."