Descent of the Maw

by Erin MacMichael

  “Magnus?” Desta’s gentle voice sounded to his left and he realized he was clutching Adisa’s fragile hand far too tightly.

  “I’m sorry,” he said with surprise and quickly released his grip on the young man’s hand.

  “Another face?”

  “The same,” he explained, glancing to his right at the monstrous skull protruding from the dirt in front of Yuri. “That one, only alive.”

  “You could see it?” Adisa asked eagerly as Yuri rose from the ground next to his friend.

  “Yeah, I saw it—twice.”

  The Saharan archeologist looked at Magnus with wide eyes. He shifted his gaze up to the towering birdman and then down to the reptilian skull gaping starkly out of the dirt floor. “I’m not sure which of you giants is more intimidating,” he said in a small voice.

  Magnus’s deep laughter rang throughout the vast chamber and bounced off the walls, causing several dozen heads to bob up from their work. Yuri looked at him with a startled expression and immediately began to laugh.

  “By the Prime, just listen to that sound!” the Maian crowed and cupped his hands around his beak, letting out several clear, warbling sequences that rose and rolled across the expanse of the stone ceiling. “Come on, Mag, make some sound with me!” he bellowed as he stalked off in a wide arc around the chamber toward the entrance, trying out different tones and patterns to see what the effects would be in the open space.

  Yuri’s excitement was infectious. Magnus threw a glance at Desta’s raised eyebrows and grinned. “What? He doesn’t care,” he said with a wave of his hand toward the silent reptilian skeleton.

  “She,” Adisa corrected quietly.

  “She doesn’t care,” Magnus amended before moving around the perplexed young scholar and heading off toward the west side of the chamber, adding his own baritone voice beneath Yuri’s sonorous tones. He walked slowly with his eyes closed, reveling in the richness of the sound, and came to a halt when he sensed he had gone about the same distance as Yuri. He turned and opened his eyes, making his deep tones in natural harmonics with the Maian captain who stood directly across from him in front of the tunnel entrance on the other side of the skeleton.

  Between them at the center of the chamber, Ulu lifted his arms and raised his bold, resonant voice moments before Desta joined in from where she stood at the skeleton’s head. Slowly, one by one, the nonplussed academics rose from their work on the floor to add their voices to the reverberating harmonics, tentatively at first, but then strong and fluid until the wide room vibrated like a giant bell.

  After several long minutes, the sound naturally tapered away. Magnus stood watching Yuri, allowing the echoing sensations to settle into his system when the Tori captain whipped hastily around at the sound of running footsteps approaching from the depths of the tunnel. One of Ulu’s aides burst into the chamber and ran directly to the high councilor, speaking quickly with hushed, clipped words.

  “Magnus, Yuri—we’re needed back in Pemba, immediately!” The Saharan leader threw an apologetic look to his wife who nodded patiently, apparently quite used to the frequent demands of Ulu’s position.

  Alarmed, Magnus tore around the tail end of the skeleton to the spot where Yuri stood waiting for him, tensed and ready to run. Ulu broke away from his small, frowning son and hurried after the two fleet captains who were already tearing down the tunnel toward the exit.

  Bright sunlight stunned Magnus’s eyes as he and Yuri shot out of the passage and raced toward the pilot standing beside the open hatch. The councilor was seconds behind them in clambering aboard the humming shuttle. Ulu seated himself next to one of his aides, conferring in low tones, while the co-pilot hurriedly sealed the door and strode to the front to strap himself in.

  In moments, the small craft was lifted off and sped toward Pemba. Magnus and Yuri turned their heads and waited expectantly for Ulu to fill them in with the details of the emergency.

  “Masala’s primary portal is under attack,” the councilor stated grimly. “The Drahkian warband came pouring out of Kimbo’s portal about twenty minutes ago and engaged the twelve ships stationed beside the transport ring.”

  Magnus’s pulse jumped. “Anyone hurt?” he blurted with the images of the Ildirim’s crew still fresh in his mind.

  “Not yet. One of our vessels sustained damage during the exchange over Kimbo before the warband transported out and reappeared over Masala’s primary portal space.”

  Yuri tensed. “We had eight Birdwings on duty to support Masala’s five vessels.”

  “Which is why the Drahks didn’t succeed in their first attempt to break through the portal locks. Your people are good, Yuri. The Kimboan guard transported through the gate on the heels of the warband and Miros Silésian brought ten ships in from Alcyone within two minutes after the call went out. Amara Tungo is already in the air and marshaling the rest of the Meropean fleet, but the more ships we can get to Masala, the better.”

  “How many in the warband?” Magnus asked.

  “Thirty-four.”

  Magnus looked into Yuri’s glassy dark eyes. “They’re stronger than the last time we took them on.”

  “Without a doubt.”

  The shuttle thrust forward with a sudden burst of speed. “We had the airspace over Pemba cleared so we can get you back as quickly as possible, Captains,” one of the pilots relayed over his shoulder. “Your officers are ready to take off. We’ll drop in as close as we can between your two shuttles.”

  “We’re grateful to you both,” Yuri replied, clutching the armrests of his seat restlessly as the shuttle sped over the rooftops of the capital city below. “And Ulu, thank you for taking us to see that amazing find.”

  “Give Desta and your kids our love,” Magnus added beside him.

  “I will.” The councilor reached up to grip their shoulders, squeezing them both in unspoken concern for their safety.

  Within a few short minutes, the Pemban airfield came into view. As promised, the Saharan pilots brought the small vessel down within a stone’s throw of the off-world shuttles. Yuri was out of his seat like a bullet and threw open the hatch, jumping to the pavement in a single bound. “Stay alive, Magnus!” he shouted and took off at a run toward the open door of the Maian vessel.

  “You, too!” Magnus yelled as he leapt to the ground and raced in the other direction toward the white Tarsian craft where Alasdair stood waiting.

  “Step it up, big man!” the Caledoni bellowed over the hum of the shuttle’s engine.

  “You couldn’t wait to get rid of me an hour ago,” he threw back as he flew through the open hatch.

  “Sorry, Mag. Miros gave me thirty minutes to get back to the Zephyr and bring her through the gate,” Alasdair answered fretfully as he jumped in and pulled the door down with a slam. “If the Saharans hadn’t gotten you back so quickly we would have been forced to leave you. We’ll barely make it as it is.”

  “I know, Al. Bad timing.” Magnus stalked to the front and flung himself into the empty pilot seat next to Hayk. “I’m driving.”

  “I figured,” the sandy-haired pilot replied with a sideways smile, handing him a crystalline headset.

  Magnus glanced at the stolid man as he activated the device and inserted it into his ear. “You’re ten times the pilot I am, Hayk,” he admitted, running his hands over the controls and checking the screens for clearance. “I just miss it.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’d be the same way if they pushed me into command.”

  “Watch out, man,” Magnus muttered as he readied the craft for take-off. “You and that creature back there will probably be tapped next.”

  A shiny reflection streaked across the front shield as the Maian vessel lifted off the pavement and sped up into the air. Magnus eased the shuttle up away from the wide expanse of concrete, pulling it into an upward arc before pushing the craft to its maximum acceleration.

  “They’re sending the sequence to clear the portal,” Hayk relayed, calling attention to the set of n
umbers appearing on each of their screens.

  “Got it.”

  Magnus redirected the nose of the shuttle toward the coordinates which would allow them safe passage through the complex energy grid of Sahara’s primary portal. The teal glow of the upper atmosphere layers surrounded them as the first glimpse of the orbiting portal stations came into view. Beyond the dark frames of the metal and crystalline constructs, the distinctive cobalt blue signature of the Pleiadian dust cloud spread across the heavens like the swirling mist of a frozen waterfall.

  Magnus slowed the ascent of the craft just enough to allow him to navigate the twisting turns of the invisible corridor mapped out for them by the Pemban ground crew between the woven energetic bands regulated by the twelve mechanical stations. “Alright, last layer,” he murmured, following the mathematical pathway with deft precision.

  “We’re clear,” Hayk confirmed. “Zephyr at two o’clock.”

  Switching channels on his headset, Magnus propelled the shuttle toward the sleek starship hovering in orbit just outside the wide portal zone. “Hurik, we’re thirty seconds out,” he called to the navigation officer he’d left in command. “Be ready to move to the gate as soon as we’ve docked.”

  “We see you, Captain,” the feminine voice replied. “We’re ready to fly.”

  A brilliant flash of gold rising from the left caught Magnus’s eye for a split second as the shuttle raced toward the Zephyr. The shimmering form of a Maian Birdwing vessel glinted in the light of Merope as it shot swiftly upward in the direction of the transport gate and disappeared out of his peripheral vision.

  Be safe, Yuri, he prayed silently as the bright opening of the Zephyr’s side bay rushed to meet them. He shot the vessel through the outer energy shield and straight into the dock, bringing it to a swift landing as the bay door closed behind them.

  “We’re in, Hurik. Get us to the gate!” he ordered over the com. Al pushed the hatch open while he and Hayk jumped from their seats. The starship pulled into motion as the three officers poured out of the shuttle and tore across the bay to the corridor leading into the center of the ship.

  “Hayk, get your teams ready to fly, just in case they release fighters or transports.” The pilot nodded and took off toward the back bays while Magnus and Alasdair raced forward toward the bridge at the heart of the Zephyr.

  The wide round room buzzed with conversation between the officers stationed around the circular bank of consoles and crew members they directed who were scattered throughout the large vessel. Above the consoles floated a solid holographic image of Sahara dotted with markers and readings from the twelve orbiting portal stations and the transport ring in space several miles above. A second hologram displaying a close-up view of the huge metallic gate appeared above Sahara as Magnus and Alasdair stepped up next to the willowy form of Hurik Kataryan seated at the navigation console.

  “We’re ready for the shift as soon as we reach the gate, Captain. All hands are battle ready,” the officer reported, turning wide pale eyes up to his as she waited for his orders.

  “Alright, key in Masala’s gate coordinates,” Magnus instructed as he and Al took their seats at the command console. “Thora, raise full shields when we pull through the gate. Rob, Ari, weapons up—be ready to lock and fire as soon as we transport. We don’t know what’s waiting for us.” At the nods of his two tactical officers, Magnus refocused on the holo of the approaching transport ring in front of the Zephyr.

  “Hurik, take us through.”

  The starship plunged forward into the space between the silvery walls of the ancient construct and emerged out of the transport ring several miles over Masala’s portal. Instantly both holograms shifted to views of the ship above the glowing bluish-green mass of Merope’s mid-sized second planet.

  The Zephyr shook as a pair of dark Drahkian warships darted in from the port side and opened fire.

  “Rob, fire all forward lasers! Al, take over—move us out away from the gate and keep firing. I’ve got to contact the admiral to get a handle on the situation.”

  As Alasdair shot out orders, the ship shook again from another blast and vibrated with the firing of their own laser canons. The hologram flickered with new images as their sensors picked up and populated the positions of the Pleiadian vessels as well as numerous moving Drahkian discs.

  Magnus shifted his headset and opened a channel to the Corum, the flagship of the Alcyoni fleet. “Miros, we’re here.” A viewscreen on his console shifted to reveal the dark-haired, grimacing image of Miros Silésian.

  “And taking some fire,” the admiral stated, watching his own holographic view of the ships above Masala’s airspace. “That pair of warships has been dogging anything that comes through the gate. We haven’t been able to nail them.”

  “Yuri’s Birdwing made it through ok?”

  “Yeah, he came blasting through like you did just a few seconds ago and took off to join his wing.”

  The Zephyr rocked again with another discharge of laser fire. Alasdair’s voice beside him cracked out steady instructions as Magnus scrutinized the ship positions in the glowing holo.

  “I see the Corum and the Loki, several of ours from Tarsus and Chi, Admiral Tungo’s Nomvikeli, and a batch of Meropean ships spread out over the portal space. Which vessel is Admiral Rimstrider’s? It’s not marked any differently than the rest.”

  “Tanamar is at the back of that delta formation of Birdwings making the rounds over the portal stations. Yuri’s ship is now leading the eagle formation that just drove off a party of warships. The small secondary portal on the far side of the planet is being covered by a group of Meropean ships, our Niemian forces, and another Birdwing contingent.”

  “And what have our friendly Drahks been up to this time?”

  “The warships have been hammering us in three groups, but they seem to be taking direction from one core band which must be the one carrying their commander. They’ve come at us eight times trying to get close to the portal, but we’ve managed to hold them off while Tanamar’s Birdwings sweep in from behind to disrupt their formations. Three Drahkian ships have taken minor hits and so have four of ours, but so far, no complete losses, thank the Prime.”

  “Where do you want us, Miros?”

  “See if you can do something about that pair of gate stalkers. Looks like they’re coming around for another pass in your direction. Three of our ships from Ki are preparing to make the jump and I want them all to have a clear shot at getting through. We’re going to need all of you—the enemy fleet is no doubt regrouping to make another jab at the portal.”

  “We’ll handle it.”

  “Good. Link into our channel and keep it open for further instructions.”

  “Got it,” Magnus confirmed, muting his mic and keying into the admirals’ channel, putting it on speaker for the rest of the bridge officers. “Listen up—our orders are to handle those two warships that hit us when we came through. They—”

  “Just disappeared,” Alasdair snapped, his eyes glued to the streaking images in the glowing holo above them.

  “Damn it!” Outside of breaking their portals, the most disconcerting aspect of dealing with the reptilian invaders was their ability to shift in and out of space in the blink of an eye using some kind of technology none of them had ever encountered, putting the entire Pleiadian fleet at a distinct disadvantage. “Keep your eyes peeled everyone. Aft cannons ready?”

  “Standing by,” Ari replied tensely.

  Several silent heartbeats passed while all eyes in the room focused on the floating image of the transport ring and their own vessel hovering in space a short distance away.

  “There, just behind the gate!” Alasdair called out as the two dark discs reemerged into space a short distance beyond the shiny construct, heading in an arc around the ring in their direction. In the next instant, the first of the three Ki’an ships burst through the gate into the space just above them.

  “Bloody hell, our people don’t know what’s
coming. Ari, fire three aft shots at the lead warship to see if you can deflect them away. Hurik, get us turned around while I call the Jutsu.”

  The ship hummed with the muffled sound of cannon fire while Alasdair rapped out directions to the officers. Magnus quickly punched in the request to open a link with the Ki’an vessel and the beautiful image of Kometani Mitsu, Alcyoni’s youngest captain, rippled across one of his screens. He grabbed the edge of his console as the Zephyr pulled abruptly about. “Mitsu, we’ve got a pair of warships whipping around the gate right above you at 10 o’clock.”

  “I see them, Magnus. That’s not good. The Senshi and Myōjō ought to be coming through right behind us.”

  “Then follow our lead and get that useless tactical officer of yours firing everything you’ve got,” he threw out, knowing Mitsu’s husband and fellow officer was probably monitoring the channel.

  “We’ll be right behind you,” the deep voice of Kometani Ando cut in. “Just don’t get in my way, Tarsian.”

  The Zephyr shook as it took another blow from the oncoming gray disc. “Rob, fire!” Magnus yelled. “Aim at the rim of the warship closest to the gate. We’ve got to protect two more Ki’an ships coming through.”

  The second set of volleys from the Zephyr’s forward cannons hit the side of the huge disc in a shower of sparks, causing it to bank away from the gate just as the Jutsu came around them and launched a barrage of beams at the second Drahkian vessel, pushing it off in the same direction as the first. The bright form of the Senshi shot out of the gate, followed seconds later by the smaller Myōjō.

  “Hurik, set a course after those two warships,” Magnus directed as he picked up the interchange between Mitsu and the two other captains across a joint channel.

  “It’s no use,” Al groused, “they just vanished again.”

  “Down there!” Ari exclaimed. “Two ships just reappeared at the back of a formation several miles outside the portal.”