“And our Reaper needs to be rearmed. What about the Wronin and Hyperion fighters?”
“Still engaged. Chasing down stragglers and new arrivals.”
“ETA of the Wronin and Hyperion?”
“Thirty minutes minimum.”
Dammit,” Brian rubbed his forehead, “we’re not losing the Perseus! Prepare to make a break for the freighter. Main guns and torpedoes to target the freighter, point defense to concentrate on the drones as long as they’re still in range. Inform the Perseus.”
“Aye, sending comm. Helm, make for the freighter, best speed…”
Turning away from her parallel course with the Perseus, the helmsman’s hand on the throttle to accelerate away, a series of flashes at the stern of the freighter caught the eyes of the bridge crew, a small ship sweeping past, dwarfed by the freighter, swinging back for another run. A flurry of fire from her upper flanks produced a swarm of white-hot trails streaking outward, flashes dotting the engines and stern starboard hull. The resulting fireball obscured the smaller ship as the freighter belched parts, debris, atmosphere and fire out into space. Reappearing on the other side of the freighter, the ship looped, rolling over the top, strafing the hull, dodging return fire coming from the freighter’s defense guns which were unable to hit the weaving attacker who disappeared behind another ball of fire only to appear again underneath, turning away from the freighter and making a run away from it’s stern, a blue-white tail propelling it across the field of stars.
“Helm, hold position above the Perseus...”
“Commander, the freighter is launching pods…”
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
VELORIA : KING of SPADES, QUEEN of HEARTS & THREE OF A KIND
Jack Steele was aware of the dust hanging in the rather still air, seemingly suspended in the various shafts of light breaking through the canopy above, where the breeze played with the leaves, shifting light and shadow below. He paused, dropping to a knee, the Shepherd coming to his elbow. “Time,” was all he said.
His earpiece chirped, “About half an hour at this pace to the waypoint. Map shows we break out into a clearing, then it looks like a trek across open land to the second waypoint.”
“Farmland. Pastures and fields,” nodded Steele. “We’re close, there should be a small town to the east…”
“Yes, Sir...”
Fritz’s head went up, his ears standing at attention, rotating, his eyes scanning the shadows, “Children…” he said in a low voice, “voices ahead of us.”
“How many?” whispered Jack.
“Many,” replied the dog.
The distinct sound of laughter carried through the stillness, a young girl’s giggle, a form standing very still in the shadows ahead of them, barely discernable. She backed away, disappearing, another form darting across their field of vision. More laughter.
“They’re baiting us, Admiral,” came a whisper in his ear.
“Or they’re just playing - like children do…” replied Jack, standing up. His hands free of his weapons, he walked ahead slowly, his eyes scanning, seeing bits of movement all around them. “Hands off your weapons,” he whispered.
“Admiral, that’s not advisable…”
“That’s an order Chief. Everybody, let them hang, move slowly. We are completely surrounded.”
Giggles, twitters and laughter passed around them, the German Shepherd rotating around and walking backward, leaning against his human’s leg, his eyes and ears constantly moving, his nose testing the air. “Animals too,” he gruffed.
“STOP!” shouted a small voice.
Steele and the entire team paused as ordered.
“Who are you?!” asked the voice.
“Who are you?” he replied.
“We asked you first…” asked a young ladylike voice.
Steele ran his fingers through his hair, fair enough… “I am…”
“Bad idea, Skipper…” hissed the Chief, “we have no idea who they are…”
“I am…” he paused, considering the Chief’s advice, but the little voice at the back of his mind was silent. “I am Admiral Jack Steele, husband of Queen Alité Steele, and King of Veloria…”
Something the approximate size of a basketball rolled noisily across the ground, bumping along unevenly until he stopped it with the toe of his boot, reaching down slowly to pick it up. “My old helmet…” he said slowly, mechanically, an instant flashback to the terror of the Remora’s ejection seat and parachute dragging him deeper and deeper before he managed to cut himself free of the lines. How he avoided that watery grave and ended up on the beach alive was still a mystery.
“It is yours?”
He wiped the dust off the cracked and spidered visor, running his fingers over the gouge in the helmet, “It is. Where did you…” when he looked up, he realized there was a growing ring of children closing around his team, a shot of adrenaline quickening his pulse and making him start. The little girl in front of him, probably all of twelve years old, not more than ten feet away, cupped her hands over her mouth and howled up into the air, producing a sound so close to a Volken’s call, it chilled him to the bone. His heart skipped a beat when there was a similar reply, then another and another, all from different directions, the children that surrounded them barking and clapping.
“Stop that!” he hissed through clenched teeth.
A long blade and a pulse pistol hanging at her waist, she simply smiled as she moved aside, a shaft of light playing across her flaming red hair, the group separating to create an opening. Fritz moved to Steele’s elbow, his hackles rising, a low, slow, guttural growl vibrating against his human’s leg. “Who are you?” asked Jack.
“Jenny Borghese...” she replied, her eyes narrowing, “not Jen, not Jennifer, Jenny.” Her hand rested on the hilt of her long blade, “You would do well to remember that.”
“Oh, I will.” He eyed the group, “Why are you out here? Alone?”
“We are the Guardians...”
“Of what?” he interrupted.
“Of the Velorian forest, of course,” she replied disdainfully, her hands shifting to her hips in defiance. “And you are trespassing...” she added, her eyes shifting to each member of the team.
“But I am the King of Veloria...”
“So you said,” she waved dismissively. “We shall see. There is another here, who claims that title, and he is a liar. Maybe you are a liar too. Liars are enemies - and the soil of Veloria will be fertilized with the blood of her enemies...” she glanced back over her shoulder.
Shafts of light playing across him as he approached, a lone boy made his way from the shadows to the opening of the circle. Steele was getting the eerie feeling he’d stepped into a future version of Lord of the Flies.
Focused on the boy with a long blade slung over his back, the hilt sticking out above his shoulder, Steele nearly overlooked the dark mass following him, plodding along, easily as tall, if not taller than his human companion. The moment Steele saw the gleaming green eyes shining in the dark, his adrenaline spiked, nearly overriding his ability to think, the intensity of the flashback so deep he felt cold and near panic simultaneously, requiring him to make a supreme effort not to snatch up a weapon. Fritz’s response escalated in intensity, a snarl accompanying his growl, his body stiffening in fight mode. Jack reached out and touched his head as much for his own assurance as the dog’s, “Easy, buddy…”
His earpiece chirped, a voice whispering, “What the hellion is that thing?”
“Volken,” he breathed, his voice catching on the word.
“THAT's a Volken...? By the Gods…”
“And he's a young one...” whispered Jack.
■ ■ ■
Steele’s earpiece chirped, “Skipper…” came the insistent whisper, “are you seeing this…?” A quick glance around and his blood ran cold; dozens of green, glowing eyes watching them from the shadows.
“Mother Mary,” he breathed. Steele had hooked his fingers through Fritz’s co
llar to hold him back, searching for a way to address the youngster who looked younger than his stature belied. “Son, what are you children doing out here… with Volkens? They are very dangerous…” The sword came out of its scabbard with a zwing, so fast, Steele barely saw the boy move. The slender, gently curved Katana-like blade, mere inches away from his face, was steady and unwavering.
“Son?” he snapped, “I do not know you… you do not know me. You keep a respectful tongue in your mouth, or I’ll personally remove it,” he flicked his head to the side, “and feed it to my Volken.”
“I did not intend to be disrespectful young man…”
With a splitting of air, the sword flashed away, expertly finding its way back to its scabbard, sliding in slowly, deliberately. Folding his arms defiantly, the boy stood with his feet apart, his head high, a commanding posture, “As the Crown Prince of Veloria, you may address me as Your Highness.”
Slow in recognition, eyes narrowing, Jack Steel dropped slowly to a knee, “Colton?” The boy reached back for the hilt of the sword, but he was in slow motion. “Colton… it’s me.”
“The one who lies pretended to be my father…” sneered the boy.
“Remember Fritz?” asked Jack, the German Shepherd craning his neck forward to smell and inspect the boy.
“Fritz…” murmured the boy.
The Volken stepped forward with a protective growl, his massive head appearing at Colton’s side, the boy slinging his arm around its neck with a hug, “Easy Jax. Be a good boy.”
Steele pointed at Ragnaar, “Remember Lieutenant Ragnaar?” The big man with the tribal face tattoo waved tentatively.
“I called him Raynaar…” Colton said softly, his eyes shifting back to Jack.
“That’s right… Now, your aunt Cheriska helped us get here… we were trying to get to Boney’s farm so I could find you. Cheriska was worried about you and Boney…”
“Boney’s fine…” replied Colton, distracted by the beard he had never seen before, reaching forward with one hand to touch it, “Your hair… it’s so long.”
Jack smiled, “I know, I’ve been meaning to cut it…” He touched his son’s face, “You’ve grown. A lot.”
“Mother says it’s your genes…” Tears streamed down his cheeks, “The Liar has mother.”
“I know, son.” Jack collected him in his arms, hugging him tightly, “We’re going to fix that…”
A warm glow radiating from him, the surrounding forest bathed in soft light, Steele’s wings wrapping around them, the boy barely visible. Jax and Fritz, their heads low, nuzzled them from opposite sides, the children and Volkens drawing closer into the light. While Andrea closed her eyes, absorbing the energy she knew Steele was capable of, Sam, Ragnaar and the Chief standing frozen, open-mouthed, mesmerized; the Chief nearly overcome with a sudden wave of emotions.
■ ■ ■
Across the open farm fields, neat rows of crops were shoulder-height to most of the children, the group walking the furrows to prevent damaging the developing plants. More than thirty children and at least fifteen Volkens, peacefully accompanied them to their destination; a neighbor’s farm a little over a mile from Boney’s place.
“Have you ever seen Boney’s wine cellar?”
Steele nodded at his son’s upturned face, “I have, it’s huuuge.”
“Andre’s shelter is a lot like that. Without all the wine, Andre has food. We’ve been staying there because men came to Boney’s one night and we had to move. He said the Liar sent them…”
Steele cast an eye across the field and the group moving through it, “Where are all their parents?”
Colton shrugged, “I don’t know. Boney says the Liar wanted children as colameral…”
“Collateral?”
“To get their parents to cooperate.”
Steele nodded. Ruthless prick… was it possible to hate someone you’d never actually met? The fact that the Synth carried his own face made Jack wince in anger. He wanted to gut the machine and leave him for the Volkens. Would that even work on a Synth? He glanced at the Volken walking sedately at his son’s side, much like Fritz at his own side, occasionally seeking for a hand to coax an ear rub. “I’ve got to ask, Colton, the Volkens; why… how…?”
In animated fashion, the boy recounted his forays alone in the forest, his preparations, his first meeting with the Volkens and how Jax had accompanied him home, protecting him ever since.
“Your father tells me they are very dangerous,” offered Andrea, “what about the other children and the other animals, why are they not afraid?”
“Jax and I would go for walks, his family would come to visit him… I guess they got used to me. And, well, Jenny was curious…”
“The girl with the red hair…”
“Yes. She came with us once…”
“She wasn’t afraid?” asked Jack.
Colton shrugged his shoulders, “A little, I guess. But she’s been around Jax for so long, I think maybe she wasn’t so afraid anymore, Jax really likes her, and she thinks he’s handsome. Anyway,” he waved, “I think they liked her - I mean, they didn’t eat her or anything.”
“Oh, dear Lord,” moaned Jack.
“So, I guess it got around a little bit,” admitted Colton. “On both sides. More of my friends came, more of Jax’s family came…”
“We had picnics!” piped Jenny, riding up on the shoulders of a Volken, her red hair flowing behind her. “They love picnics…” she grinned, patting the neck of the animal she rode, a little pink ribbon woven into its mane. “Her name is Zook. She picked me on our third picnic…”
Jack blinked hard, the improbability of it all, astonishing him. He was torn between non-belief and admiration for his son. His courage, his compassion…
“Incoming!” screamed the Chief, pointing out over the fields to the left, hefting his long gun to his shoulder, Ragnaar swinging his light machine-gun to bear as a Liger Dart swept in low over the fields.
Seeing the trail of smoke behind the fighter, Jack waved everyone down, “He’s in trouble! Everyone down…!” It was almost silent as it skimmed the field, clipping a tree along the field’s border, a canon-like boom as it sheared off a heavy limb, the air filled with leaves and splinters of wood, the craft dropping into the field beyond them with a whump and crush of squealing metal that shook the ground, a spray of dirt and crops fountaining high into the air as the nose buried itself, digging a three-hundred-foot trench before it came to rest, smoke rising from around it. With a ripple of explosive bolts the canopy sailed into the air, falling into the greenery on the other side of the fighter, a man climbing wearily out, standing on his seat, screaming and waving his side-arm at the sky, cursing whomever must have shot him down.
Steele’s earpiece tweeted, “Take the shot?” asked the Chief, who had the crosshairs on the pilot.
Colton stood, his hands cupped around his mouth, “AaaaWoooooo – WhoopWhoopWhoop!”
Crouched, Steele grabbed his son by the arm and yanked him off his feet as the pilot turned in their direction, firing blindly, unaware of the three Volkens racing across the field of crops, their feet drumming on the soil. “Take the shot! Take the shot!”
“No joy, I’m blocked…”
One moment he was there, boldly standing on his seat in the cockpit of the demolished fighter, firing into the field, the next he vanished in a blur, his screams carrying across the field as the sabre toothed Volkens literally tore him apart, hidden behind the wreckage and smoke.
It was chilling, the hair standing up on the back of Steele’s neck. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered, rising to his feet, the field silent again except for the sound of birds and footfalls of the returning Volkens, blood on their faces, their tails wagging, romping back like giant puppies. “Why did you do that?” he asked gruffly, grabbing his son by the shoulder.
“They protect us. We protect them,” Colton replied innocently, his face void of malice. “He was our enemy.”
Jack eased hi
s grip on Colton’s shoulder, crouching down to eye level, “As a leader, you are responsible for the safety of these animals and your friends; you never risk a member of your team if there is an easier solution.” He nodded at Daryl Jolly, sniper rifle in hand, “The Chief could have taken one shot and ended it. Without risk. Understand?” The young boy nodded his understanding. “Good…” sighed Jack, exhaling heavily.
Steele’s earpiece chirped, “Ahhhmm, Skipper?”
“Yeah, Sam?”
“I hate to break up this teachable moment,” he motioned skyward, “but I believe we have a bigger problem…”
“Escape pods?”
“Those are troop deployment pods, Skipper. And they’re not ours…”
“Oh shit!” Steele waved everyone forward, “Run! RUN!”
■ ■ ■
Lieutenant Commander Devoe squinted through the flash of the blast, watching the debris pass over his right wing as he ducked his Cyclone underneath the worst of it, the Liger Dart disintegrating as he pulled through a tight right-hand curl. Double checking his sensors and his six, he keyed his mic, “W1 - all Wronins form on me, we’re heading for atmo.”
“R7, I’ve taken damage boss, don’t think she can handle atmosphere…”
“Copy that, R7. R8, stay with your wing leader, wait for the Ronin. If there’s anybody else with damage, hang back here. The rest of you, on me…”
“What’s the task, Commander?”
Devoe checked his target scope and watched the Wronins converging on his Cyclone as he pointed the nose of his fighter at the blue and green marble, “We’re going pod hunting, gentlemen.” He adjusted his radar, narrowing the parameters to pick up the deployment pods, “Remember, these people are criminals, hired guns, sub-human filth… a cancer that needs to be eradicated - without mercy…”
■ ■ ■
His carbine slung across his back, his son in one arm, another child in the other, Jack Steele pounded across the field, cutting across the crop lines for expediency, following the girl with the streaming, fiery red hair, riding atop her Volken. The rest of the group was spread wide, all attempting to keep up, Ragnaar carrying two children, several more riding Volkens like Jenny. “How do you know they’re not our pods, Sam?” panted Jack, his heart hammering.
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