The Army Of Light (Kestrel Saga)

by Fender, Stephen

  “What?” she asked with hesitation as she caught his gaze.

  “You keep a flight suit in your suitcase for emergencies, I gather?” he asked in disbelief at her quick change act.

  She stared back at him expressionless and silent.

  “Never mind,” he dismissed with a shake of his head and went back to his preflight checklist. “I’ve about given up trying to figure you out.”

  She smiled contentedly to herself when she was convinced he was no longer scanning her out of his periphery. Melissa glanced down to the auxiliary engine control monitor, watching as the front of the starboard engine began spinning faster and faster as the unit climbed to full takeoff power. On the screen, the cone-shaped tip was awash with a bright blue-white light as Sylvia’s Delight announced with a series of gentle shudders that she was ready to lift off the surface of Minos once again.

  Shawn tapped the intercom button in front of him. “Trent, is everything ready back there?”

  “Roger, Captain. The engines are at full power, and I’ve got my puke bag ready.”

  “Just don’t throw-up on my engines,” Shawn shouted back. “Once we break out of the atmosphere, I want you to divert all the bleed energy into the backup navigational screens.”

  “You sure you don’t want full power? I’d feel better if you—”

  “If I ran the ship based on your feelings I’d have painted her pink with little unicorns on the bulkheads,” Shawn retorted, and he swore Melissa let out a fit of stifled laughter. “I want enough energy to withstand anything we might encounter out there. I’d hate for us to get caught with our—” Shawn began, but stopped as he looked to Melissa. “I don’t want to run into any surprises, okay? Stand by for a full power ascent.”

  “And what does that mean?” Melissa asked cautiously.

  He looked to the copilot’s chair and examined Melissa, making sure her three-point safety harness was fully attached. “It means you’re in for one heck of a ride,” he replied, then pressed the drive igniter button. With a thunderous roar, the Mark-IV abruptly launched nearly straight up from the Old Flamingo’s landing pad and into the lower atmosphere.

  Melissa could feel herself being pulled back into her seat as gravity fought to keep the ship—not to mention her stomach—on the ground. She didn’t even have time enough to scream before the inertial stabilizers came on and she felt her body loosen up in the seat.

  Breathing heavily, she pushed some fallen strands of hair out of her face. “Is that your idea of a joke, Captain?”

  “No. That’s my idea of a quick getaway.”

  “Getaway? From what?”

  Just then a voice came through the ships intercom from the surface of Minos. It was the same male tower operator that they’d heard when landing. “Sylvia’s Delight. Come in, Sylvia’s Delight. You are not cleared for takeoff at this time. Please return to Minos immediately.”

  “Fat chance of that happening,” Shawn replied, not bothering to press the button that would’ve sent the response to the ground controller.

  “Is there something I should know about?” Melissa asked.

  Shawn turned the ground radar off, then activated the space navigational computer as he prepared to engage the jump drive that would send them away from Minos at nearly the speed of light. Before he could enter the last two commands, however, a bolt of green light rocketed over the bow and out into space. Sylvia’s Delight lunged downward abruptly, but the captain was able to quickly right her.

  “Who’s shooting at us?” Melissa cried as she gripped her armrests tightly.

  Shawn looked to the short-range sensor display as the ships female computer voice cheerfully read out the report on the ships attacking the Mark-IV. On the screen, a three-view computer generated wire frame representation of a fighter was displayed, as well as armament and shielding information on the vessel. It was a sleek, bullet shaped fighter, with two large thrusters on the rear and sweeping wing-like farings jutting out from the front of the craft.

  “Temkorian’s,” Shawn replied as he looked the schematic over. “And four of them, too.” Shawn was silently impressed that Jack felt so highly of his abilities that the Frenchman had to send four of his goons out to retrieve him.

  “They’re a long way from home,” Melissa replied hesitantly.

  “Not if their home is at Jack’s place. They must have taken off before we left the ground. There is no other way they would have gotten here so quickly.”

  A blue light on Shawn’s control panel began to blink, signaling to the captain that the lead Temkorian fighter wished to communicate. Reluctantly, he flipped on the yellow toggle switch. Shawn cleared his throat as he summoned his best command voice. “This is Captain Kestrel onboard Sylvia’s Delight. What gives you the right to fire on an unarmed vessel?”

  Melissa looked at him suspiciously, but he shot her back a look that said ‘whatever he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.’

  The alien’s voice came back immediately. It was a high pitch, squeaky sounding thing, and not at all frightening. However, Shawn knew the latter was far from true when it came to Temkorian’s. “It doesn’t need to go this way, Kestrel,” the alien began. “Return to Minos and you will be unharmed. All we want is the girl.”

  “The girl?” He replied too softly for the Temkorian to hear him. His eyes pivoted towards the copilot’s seat and the attractive, strangely calm woman occupying it. “Why would Jack want only you?”

  “I can’t imagine why,” she replied blandly.

  “Neither can I. I mean, not unless there was a profit in—” he stopped himself in mid-sentence as he contemplated what he was about to say. The Temkorian made another round of demands before Shawn spoke up to Melissa again. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

  The volume of his voice caught her by surprise. “That’s what, Mister Kestrel?”

  “This isn’t about me at all. It all about you. You’re hot!”

  Melissa instantly blushed and smiled sheepishly. “Why thank you, Mister Kestrel.”

  Shawn looked at her in confusion just as the ships proximity alarm came on briefly, then extinguished itself. “Thank you? For what?”

  “You just said I was hot. While I know that it’s something of an archaic term for someone who is attractive, I do suppose that I have turned my share of heads in the past and…” She looked to Shawn and, seeing the look of utter perplexity on his face, wondered what was going on behind his eyes.

  “What are you talking about, lady?” he asked wide-eyed.

  “Didn’t you just call me hot?”

  Shawn shook his head in disdain. “No! Not hot hot. I mean hot… as in wanted.”

  There was a hint of rejection in her voice. “So… you’re saying you don’t think I’m attractive?”

  Shawn wasn’t sure if she was being serious or playing. “Are you some type of crazy person?”

  The Temkorian jumped back into the conversation. “Repeat, Captain Kestrel: We just want the girl. You’ll be free to go on your way once we have her.”

  Shawn gave Melissa another glance, then looked back out the forward view port. He leaned into the microphone and pressed the initiator button. “Well, that’s too bad, pal, because you can’t have her.”

  “Very mature response, Captain.” Melissa scoffed.

  “Am I to understand you’re claiming her, Kestrel?” the alien angrily snapped back.

  Before Melissa could think about what she was about to do, she reached across Shawn’s lap and punched the communications control. “Excuse me, Mister…Mister Man, or whatever you call yourself. No one claims me. I am my own person.”

  Shawn slapped her hand away from the control. “Stop that! Do you have any idea who you’re talking to? Those are Temkorian’s out there!”

  “So what?” she rallied, rubbing the pick spot on her hand before folding her arms across her chest.

  “So, I know you haven’t been around the interstellar block a few times yet, so I’ll tell you that Temkorian’s are
something of an interstellar packrat species.”

  Melissa shook her head. “And?”

  “And, if something in space isn’t claimed, it’s considered free game by their race.” Shawn could see she still didn’t comprehend. “If I don’t claim you then, in their eyes, you are considered free game… and they can take you—by force, if necessary.”

  The alien’s squeaky voice came back over the speaker as one of the Temkorian fighters passed slowly over the bow of Sylvia’s Delight, then cantered off to port. “I’m sorry, Captain. I did not copy your last transmission. Repeat your last.”

  Shawn held up a finger, as if to stop Melissa from saying or doing anything else that would make their situation worse. He reached over and pressed the communications button once more, clearing his throat in the process. “Yes. Yes, I’ve claimed her. She’s mine. Besides, even if I hadn’t claimed her, you wouldn’t want her. She’s…”

  Wondering what on Third Earth he was going to say next, she rested her elbow on the armrest, then leaned her chin into her palm, hanging on the captain’s next words.

  “She’s… cranky.”

  Chapter 9

  “I am not cranky!” Melissa all but screamed in response. “And I am not a crazy person!”

  “Really? Have you tried listening to yourself lately? I mean, I’m less than four feet from you, and you’re screaming at me like I’m a mile way,” Shawn said calmly, his eyes still gazing into the sensor display at the four Temkorian fighters now in pursuit.

  One of the fighters had settled into the Mark-IV’s aft quadrant, with one each on her port and starboard flanks. The only unaccounted for Temkorian was the leader, and he was probably somewhere distant, directing the rest of the group. The fighters were sleek and, from what Shawn’s computer casually and almost joyfully informed him, quite lethal. While he’d encountered fighters of this type under more friendly circumstances during the war, he’d never tangled with the business end of one of them. Back then, the Temkorian’s had fought on the side of the Unified Collaboration of Systems against the Kafaran’s. Now it looked as if Shawn was going to have to face off against these fast and well-armed fighters with only the minimal lasers of Sylvia’s Delight.

  Needless to say, the odds were not in his favor.

  “And you can’t claim me either, Captain.” Melissa continued in annoyance. “I am not some… some trophy!”

  “Believe me, if you were a prize, you’d be a consolation one,” he muttered into the sensor screen.

  “What? What did you just say?”

  Before Shawn could reply, the Temkorian’s angry voice squealed through the intercom speaker. “Her current disposition means very little to me, Captain. It’s only required that she continue to breathe—at least, for the time being.”

  “For the last time: she’s claimed, Temkorian. Frag off,” Shawn said in his most authoritative tone. “And you can tell Jack I said so.”

  “Why waste the call when I already have his response, Captain,” the voice replied arrogantly. Without warning two more blasts of green energy rocketed past Sylvia’s Delight, far closer than the last, and out into space. The proximity of the rounds caused the Mark-IV to shake momentarily as the density of space around the Hypervarion transport was temporarily disrupted.

  “What are those green laser thingies made of?” Melissa asked as she continued to squeeze the armrests of the copilot’s chair.

  “Highly agitated energetic plasma.”

  “And… what will it do if it hits us?”

  “Ever seen a piece of wood after a termite gets to it?”

  “A long time ago, but yeah, sure.”

  “Well, we’ll be that piece of wood if we get hit with one of those things. The hull will become very brittle, easily susceptible to the vacuum of space.”

  “Then I suggest we try to avoid that outcome,” she replied smartly.

  He looked to her irritably, momentarily forgetting the Temkorian on the communications channel. “We shouldn’t even be here in the first place! What do they want with you, anyway?”

  Melissa pondered the question quietly. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you what they want, but I can tell you what I want.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “I’d very much like to live to see my next birthday, so can we please leave?”

  He shrugged. “Afraid not. We can’t initiate the jump drive right now.”

  “And why is that?” Her tone was anything but pleased.

  “Because of this,” Shawn said, hitting two buttons near one of the small computer displays embedded in the console in front of Melissa. The screen was displaying a top-down view of their current position, with Sylvia’s Delight directly in its center. The four Temkorian fighters were red blips buzzing around the ship like angry wasps. At a second touch of the buttons, a bright yellow filter was applied to the real-time image. It floated across the screen as if someone has spilled water on the display until it fully obscured the original image. As the filter began to fade, Melissa noticed a greenish blob surrounding the Mark-IV for a distance of nearly five-hundred feet.

  “A dampening field?” She asked uncertainly. “How did you know?”

  “Because I tried to engage the jump system the second I saw the fighters on the sensors. The Temkorian’s must have known what I was planning to do, because they flooded the area with ionizing particles as soon as they were within range,” he took his eyes away from the screen and looked back in hers. “We aren’t going anywhere fast, so long as those bastards out there have us in their net.”

  “So, that’s all you’ve got?” she said in protest. “I was hoping for something more.”

  “What do you mean?” the captain asked calmly, visually scanning the space beyond the view port and waiting for the Temkorian’s to make their next move.

  “Well, aren’t you supposed to be some kind of great pilot or something?”

  He turned his attention back to the scanners, rolling his head slightly from side to side. “I’m pretty fair when it comes to most things being equal.”

  “Well, it’s just that I had no idea you were so easily beaten.”

  He snapped his head in her direction. “What the heck does that mean?”

  “Well, didn’t you know they were capable of neutralizing our engines?”

  “If you’re asking if I knew they could disable the jump drive, then no. However, our maneuvering engines are still at one-hundred percent.”

  “So, you’re just going to sit here like a lame duck and wait for them to do who knows what else?”

  That’s because I don’t have a clue what we’re going to do about it. ”I’m putting the final touches on my plan right now.”

  “Well please, Mister Kestrel. Don’t keep the audience in suspense. We’re all waiting on pins and needles to see what you’ll do next.”

  Shawn unbuttoned the top clasp of his shirt and withdrew a small gleaming object on the end of a chain. Although Melissa couldn’t precisely see what he was touching, she noticed that he absently began rubbing it between his index finger and thumb.

  “Oh, no,” she said, sighing heavily and rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Please don’t tell me you believe in good luck charms, too, Captain.”

  “Can’t say that I do. But, I am pretty partial to the power of prayer.” He briefly held the charm aloft for Melissa’s inspection. She could clearly see that the silver charm was, in fact, an undecorated crucifix. “So, if you wouldn’t mind saying one or two, I’m sure we’d all be a lot better off for it.”

  She was stunned. “Assuming I’m going to humor you on this, it’s been a long time since I’ve gone to church. I’m not sure if I know how to start.” Suddenly Sylvia’s Delight jolted sideways as the Temkorian fighter let loose a blast that grazed the top of the ships hull. The Mark-IV jerked down abruptly, then twisted to starboard, sending several loose items that hadn’t been tied down crashing behind Melissa’s seat. She instinctively closed her eyes tightly an
d began shouting in rapid-fire succession, holding onto her armrests with all of her strength. “Oh God, Oh Lord, Oh merciful One!”

  “That’s good enough for me.” Shawn touched the engine auxiliary burner control and, throwing the stick hard forward, sent Sylvia’s Delight into a plunge that would’ve caused the toughest of veteran pilots to lose their lunch.

  *

  Melissa attempted to scream, but was silenced as her stomach tried in desperately to exit her body through her mouth. The Mark-IV continued to spiral down for what seemed like an eternity, the ships artificial gravity struggling to keep the occupants in one piece.

  Of all of the thoughts rushing through Melissa Graves’s mind, the prevailing one seemed to be that if she made it out of this maneuver alive, the first thing she was going to do was kill Shawn Kestrel. She would then make a solemn vow to never again go on amusement park rides.

  For nearly a full minute Sylvia’s Delight continued in her spiraling plunge, then Shawn pulled back hard on the stick in an attempt to right the craft. D bucked in a teeth jarring shudder as inertial stabilizers fought desperately against the gravity generators. Once the craft was reasonably stable, Shawn rechecked all of the instruments. The Temkorian that was on their stern was trying desperately to catch up. The other fighters seemed to have vanished from the scope altogether.

  Melissa, succeeding in catching her breath and keeping her lunch down after several hard swallows, tried to speak. “Mister Kestrel, if you ever do that again—”

  She was cut off as Shawn slammed the control stick sideways, causing the large craft to do a series of perfectly timed barrel rolls in the vacuum of space. Another volley of green bolts from the Temkorian fighter passed through the Mark-IV’s previous location without so much as a scratch on her already chipped exterior paint.

  As soon as Shawn righted the craft, Melissa glared at him angrily. “Stop doing that!” she shouted.

  “You see? This is what I’m talking about. You really need to calm down there, crazy lady.”