by M. R. Forbes
She closed her eyes, taking a breath. Her body felt like it wanted to explode, and the converted hellsuit was the only thing holding it together.
She flexed her legs and Jumped.
54
The Brimstone blinked back into existence in a plume of gas, the disterium disbursing around the starship as it made orbit around Drune.
“Trin,” Ursan said, trying to reach her through her communicator.
He had felt the change when she had revived, the sudden renewal of warmth within his soul. He was amazed that Thraven’s Gift had allowed him to sense his wife so acutely and more grateful for it than anything else the General had done.
“Trin,” he repeated. There was no reply.
“The atmosphere is too dense,” Dak said. “Short-range signals can’t punch through.”
Ursan stared at the brown planet ahead of them. She was down there, somewhere. Was she still in trouble? She had to be. Why else would Thraven have let him come so easily?
“We’re being hailed,” Dak said.
“Who?”
“Captain Defay,” Dak replied. “On board the Lahar.”
“Defay,” Ursan said.
“Captain Gall,” Defay said. “General Thraven told me you were en route.”
“Trin,” Ursan said.
“We have everything well in hand, Captain,” Defay said. “There has been some unexpected resistance from the surface, but our forces are winning the day.”
“What kind of unexpected resistance?”
“Planetary defense of some kind. It may be that the Republic has been using Drune as a forward base, hoping to stockpile weapons and supplies inside Outworld space.”
“And you didn’t know that before you arrived? Then what are you doing here?”
“Following orders, Captain,” Defay said. “Without question. Something you seem to struggle to do.”
Ursan held his tongue, closing the link instead.
“Bolar,” he said, contacting his shuttle pilot.
“What do you need, Captain?” the Outworlder replied.
“Prep the shuttle. Tik.”
“Yes, Boss?” the Trover said.
“Get the ground team ready. We’re going down there.”
“Roger.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Dak asked. “Defay said they have everything under control.”
“Frag Defay,” Ursan replied, getting to his feet. “Someone killed Trin. It doesn’t matter if the Gift brought her back or not, I want that asshole’s head. Besides, I didn’t challenge Thraven to sit up here and twiddle my thumbs. Get us in close so we can drop the shuttle.”
“Okay, Boss.”
“You have the bridge, Dak,” Ursan said, fleeing the space.
He ran through the large corridors of the Brimstone, gaining the lift and taking it down to the hangar. His ground unit was already assembled by the time he had put on his lightsuit, headed by his Sergeant, Tik. The shuttle was behind the fifteen soldiers, lights on and reactor humming.
“We’re ready to go, Boss,” Tik said as he arrived, saluting him with the rest of his crew.
“Then stop standing around and get on the shuttle,” Ursan said, hurrying past him and up the ramp extending from the ship.
“You heard him,” Tik shouted. “Move out.”
The soldiers piled into the shuttle behind him, quickly taking their positions and clamping themselves in.
“Locked and loaded, Boss,” Tik said.
“Bolar, get us down there.”
“Yes, sir,” Bolar replied.
The ramp retracted, the hatch closing and sealing. The shuttle lifted off the floor of the hangar, thrusters firing and launching it out into space.
Ursan could see the Lahar to his right as the shuttle changed direction, diving toward Drune, the large, dark battleship barely visible save for the few lights coming from the hangar and the bridge. Defay wasn’t stupid enough to challenge him, not while he was in control of the Brimstone. Was that why Thraven had deferred to him, too?
He could feel his skin start to burn as the shuttle hit the atmosphere, beginning to shudder slightly at the introduction of resistance. Wherever Trin was, he was certain she needed his help. Even if she didn’t, he was going to give it anyway.
What the hell was the Gift good for otherwise?
55
“Five o’clock,” Ruby said calmly, watching the Faust’s HUD.
“I see him, thanks,” Bastion replied.
The HUD lost the target to interference a moment later, leaving them flying blind to their attackers once more.
He couldn’t hear the gunfire behind them, but he could see the results, the display to his right showing the shields activating, absorbing the rounds as the power continued to drain from the reactors.
Everything had been peaceful and quiet. He was kicking back, staring out the viewport of the starship’s cockpit, daydreaming about Lieutenant Cage when first the onboard sensors, and then Ruby, had informed him that a dropship was coming in nearby.
An instant later and he was upright in the pilot’s seat, monitoring the sensors and watching as the oddly configured ship crossed only a few thousand meters overhead, almost visible in the shrouded air. He hadn’t wasted any time alerting Fury and Okay to the situation, and they had decided together that Abbey was about to be deep in the shit, and was going to need backup. He had tried to send a message to her as well, but Ruby questioned whether or not it would reach that far.
He had watched them go, and then he had waited. One minute stretched to five, which expanded to ten. The sensors had picked up the incoming Shrikes only seconds before they swept across the field, blasting one of the other starships parked nearby. That was all it took to get him airborne, trying desperately to find a vector that would get him to the colony in support of the Rejects and coming under heavy attack from the circling Outworld starfighters.
“We can’t keep going like this,” Bastion said, the shield monitor flashing every time a round hit the energy web. “I need visibility.”
“We have to get Queenie and the others out,” Ruby said.
“Damn it; I know that, I’m doing the best I can.”
Bastion manipulated the control yoke, sending the ship into a tight bank. They would have been dead already if not for the long wings that extended from the starship’s upper hull, making it more maneuverable in atmosphere than most vessels its size. It allowed the larger ship to fly more like a fighter, albeit a big, ugly fighter and had given him the opportunity to down two of the Shrikes already.
The only problem was that there were still two more behind them, with pilots who were skilled enough to match him turn for turn. He had managed to keep the Faust intact so far, but intact wasn’t good enough. Whatever shitty fate had brought the Rejects together, they were still his team, and he wasn’t about to let them die while he danced around in the sky.
“Do you have any useful strategies for a situation like this stored in that database of yours?” he asked, glancing over at Ruby. “Or are your memory banks overrun with sex positions?”
“I have a complete encyclopedia on both topics available, with adequate storage remaining,” Ruby replied. “However, you don’t want me to answer the first question.”
“Why not?”
“There are no known documented examples of a starship outclassing Shrikes in atmosphere.”
“Meaning?”
“You should consider yourself lucky for destroying two of them already. What you are attempting to do is bordering on the impossible.”
“I’m sorry I asked.”
“You should be.”
Bastion rolled the Faust over. The starship shook slightly as it made the maneuver, the wings flexing and threatening to snap under the tension. Then he leveled out and raised the bow, moving into a sharp climb. Impossible?
He hated that idea.
The Shrikes held behind him, continuing to fire as they rose, switching from projectiles to b
eam weapons. They wouldn’t do as much damage that way, but they could keep up the chase and the attack indefinitely, wearing at his shields, his patience, and his psyche until he made that final, fatal mistake.
He kept climbing, eager to escape from the dust and get the HUD locked onto the Shrikes once more. He couldn’t hit them if he couldn’t see them, and sensors were too unreliable close to the ground. At the same time, for as deadly as the Shrikes were in atmosphere, they were even deadlier out of it, their vectoring thrusters allowing them to make tight spins and rotations that a larger body simply couldn’t match.
It was a delicate balance, but one that he had managed before. This wasn’t the first time he had come up against the Outworlds’ best line of defense, though it was his first time doing it on a ship as large as the Faust.
They broke through the dusty air, reaching clear atmosphere. The sky was darker above them, and he could see the outline of that damned dark battleship silhouetted against it, the source of the bastards who were trying to down him.
“What the,” he said as his eyes landed on a second object in orbit near the first. A starship unlike any he had seen before, except in the data Captain Mann had provided them.
“The Brimstone,” Ruby said. “It’s here.” She paused. “Why would that be?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. We have enough problems already.”
The computer beeped at him, signaling another hit, this one passing through the shields and leaving a mark on one of the wings. A flesh wound. He was lucky.
“Hold on,” Bastion said. “Either this is going to work, or we’re going to die.”
“I can’t die,” Ruby reminded him. “Only be destroyed.”
“What’s the difference?” Bastion asked.
Ruby was silent for a moment and then shrugged. “I can turn off my pain sensors,” she offered.
“I can turn off my pain sensors,” Bastion mimicked. “Whatever. Here goes.”
He cut the power to the engines.
Completely.
He also cut the power to the anti-gravity, turning it off and allowing the Faust to become the heavy mass of alloy that it truly was.
“This is not a good idea,” Ruby said, as the ship’s climb came to an abrupt end, the nose beginning to roll over toward the ground.
The Shrikes were maneuverable, but not enough to stop that quickly. There was a brief moment where their vector and the changing vector of the Faust lined up. Bastion didn’t waste it.
He triggered the ship’s guns, heavy plasma lancing out from the two cannons mounted beside the cockpit and the two turrets over the top. Sharp red bolts speared one of the Shrikes, burning through it and cutting it in half, while the other banked and turned, peeling away from the assault.
“Damn,” Bastion said, his stomach dropping when the Faust started to fall, the Shrike circling back behind them and peppering them while they regained momentum.
Warnings sounded in the cockpit, the shield display lighting up as he switched the thrusters back on, immediately pegging them to max. He kept the anti-gravity off, allowing the planet’s pull to increase their acceleration.
“We won’t be able to pull out of this,” Ruby said.
“I’ll worry about that when we get there,” he replied.
“I believe you were correct. We are going to die.”
“I thought you said you couldn't die?”
“Same difference.”
“Synths,” Bastion said, his body beginning to tense as he re-activated the anti-gravity. They were back into the dusty air, and even though he couldn’t see the ground, he knew it was fast approaching.
“Lucifer.”
Gant’s voice took him by surprise, almost causing him to miss his mark. He clenched his teeth, beginning to pull the Faust up out of its dive.
“Gant. A little busy,” he said, the combined activity causing the Faust to shake violently.
“With what?” Gant replied. “Queenie needs you, damn it.”
“With not dying,” Bastion shouted back. “I’m on my way, just get your ass off my back and let me do my job.”
“Did you just call me a monkey again?”
“Stow it, Gant,” Bastion replied, the computer blaring warnings about the oncoming surface of the planet.
He pushed himself back in his seat as if that would help level the ship, practically wetting himself as he saw the ground appear below. He was outside of the colony, looking down on a field where six mechs were squaring off, four on two. They seemed to pause at his approach, rotating to face him, noticing that he might not make it up in time.
Then he did, getting the Faust even and then on the rise, the exhaust of the ship’s thrusters pushing against the mechs and knocking them off their feet. The trailing Shrike misjudged the floor, not quite making it up in time and slamming hard into the ground behind them.
“Woooooooo,” he shouted, releasing the pent-up energy. “Am I good or what?” He glanced over at Ruby, sitting beside him with the same, calm demeanor. “Come on; you’re a pleasure bot, can’t you show a little bit of pleasure at not being destroyed?”
“I can simulate an orgasm if it will satisfy your need for validation and overall machismo,” she replied.
Bastion closed his mouth, all of the excitement draining from him. “Gant, we’re on our way. Gant?”
He was gone.
56
The power of the softsuit’s synthetic musculature added to Abbey’s own was enough to carry her about fifty meters in one bounce.
The Gift-enhanced Jump sent her across the entire distance at a much higher velocity than she would ever achieve on her own. She hurtled her through the air toward Trin, sword gripped in two hands and held over her head, ready to cut the woman in half.
She had no expectations that she was going to make it all the way across. She was certain the other woman would knock her out of the sky. The effort was foolish and probably wasted, but she wasn’t going to submit, and she wasn’t going to let Trin kill her without a fight.
Trin raised a hand at the approach, holding it out toward her. Abbey felt the Gift pushing up against her own, as though two giant invisible hands clapped together and pushed, strength against strength. She knew she wasn’t as capable as Trin, but even so, she powered through the defense, surprising Thraven’s assassin by landing within striking distance. She had never used a sword before. How many people in this century had? She had used nerve batons, though, and a stick was a stick, this one just had a sharp side. She swung it toward Trin, who slipped beneath it, the surprise evident on her face.
“A challenge then?” Trin said.
She moved in quickly, taking an angle around the blade, her movements fast and precise. She hit Abbey in the side, the blow forceful enough to send her tumbling sideways, rolling to a stop a dozen meters away.
Abbey tensed against the pain, pulling herself to her feet. The hit increased the burning in her skin, and she squared off with the blade as Trin came toward her, running so quickly her feet barely hit the ground. Abbey watched in surprise as the woman’s fingers elongated into a set of sharp claws. Had her fingers grown, or was it some kind of augmentation built into her softsuit?
She didn’t have time to think about it. She brought the blade up ahead of Trin’s attack, catching the first swipe, then bringing it down and over to block the second. Ahead of her, she could see Pik and Airi attacking the blacksuits, sending rounds into the exposed soldiers, who absorbed the damage without falling.
The scene distracted her, giving Trin an opening. She felt the pain as the woman’s claws tore into her stomach, ripping through her hellsuit and into flesh. She backed away, swinging the blade ahead of her to keep the other woman honest.
“You’re a good fighter,” Trin said. “You would have made an exemplary Evolent.”
“Past tense already?” Abbey replied. “Try killing me first.”
Trin smiled, more like a predator than a person.
“This
is the power of the Gift,” she said. “The power you could have. The power you refuse.”
She spread her arms to her sides, her entire body flaring in heat and energy, surrounding her in flames.
“What the frag are you?” Abbey said.
“The past. The present. The future.”
Trin held out her hand, and a stream of energy burst from it, heading for Abbey. She rolled aside, terrified as the attack hit the ground where she had been and tore a deep gash into the earth.
“This could be yours, Abbey,” Trin said, pausing the attack. “This and more.”
“How many times do I have to tell you to go frag yourself?” Abbey said, getting to her feet.
Trin moved in, coming at her so fast she barely had time to react. She got the sword up to block the first swipe from elongated fingers, only to find the other on her wrist, the touch burning into her flesh and forcing her to drop the weapon.
“Go frag yourself, Lieutenant,” Trin said, reaching out and wrapping her other hand around Abbey’s throat, lifting her easily off the ground.
Her skin smoked and burned where Trin’s flesh touched her, and she couldn’t breathe. She had part of the Gift. She needed it to do something. She punched, trying to increase the strength the same way she had when she had bounced. Her fist smacked harmlessly against Trin’s chest.
Damn it.
She tried again, and again. It was no use. The Gift was failing her. Because Trin was stronger?
No. Because she was afraid.
She felt sharp claws punch through her hellsuit and sink into her stomach. Trin was smiling, enjoying the moment. Enjoying the kill.
A bright flash and a wave of heat flowed over them, leaving Trin cursing as a plasma bolt hit her in the back, throwing her away from Abbey. The Faust flashed overhead, appearing for an instant and gone just as soon. Abbey took a moment to gather herself, fighting to catch her breath, feeling her body recovering as she rolled to her feet. The blacksuits had been hit by the run as well, burned by the incoming plasma but getting back up.
An angry growl forced her attention back to Trin. The assassin was up again, still smoldering from the hit but healing quickly. Abbey saw Airi’s sword laying a few meters away. She had to hold onto her anger, and bury her fear. She reached out to it, eager for it to be in her hand., eager to use it as a weapon to kill this flaming bitch.