“Be ready with the jammer,” Sage added, nodding to Hierax’s device. “If they’re able to communicate with the other ships, this plan will end before it even begins.”
“Always ready, Captain.”
Another clank came from the airlock, and Sage envisioned the Zi’i extending their tube to fasten to the side of his ship, so their boarding party could enter.
Hierax started to walk away but paused, turning back. “Are we all right, Captain? After, uhm—the nebula?”
“I don’t know,” Sage said as an alert flashed on the airlock control panel, informing him that a tube had been secured. “Have you forgiven me for shooting your gadget?”
“Yes. Have you forgiven me for my gadget shooting at you?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Hierax gave a surprisingly sincere salute, then trotted to join the other men behind the crates as he donned his helmet. Only he and Lieutenant Asan, the Falcon 8’s other helmsman, weren’t combat specialists, but like all Star Guardians, they could hold their own in battle.
Sage took a deep breath and faced the airlock hatch.
“I assume you want me to unlock that for them, Captain,” Eridanus spoke over the speakers.
“Yes, otherwise they’ll force it open and damage it.”
“That would be rude.”
“That describes the Zi’i.”
“Indeed.”
Silence fell in the cargo hold as the Zi’i gathered in the airlock outside the hatch. Sage’s thoughts drifted to Tala, and he wished he’d said something more meaningful in parting. If this didn’t work, he could be killed. If not by a Zi’i hand, then by his own. He knew too many deeply classified secrets to allow himself to be captured, too much that could be used against his own people, especially if the Zi’i were planning to start a new war, as this armada implied. He couldn’t allow himself to be questioned, and if that meant death… he’d been prepared to die for a long time.
But for a long time, there hadn’t been anyone to live for. No family, except for his mother and father and aunts and brothers. No wife. No children. He’d thought that was all right, that, instead of finding love and having children of his own, he would leave a legacy through his work, by helping his people remain free. And he’d found that fulfilling for many years, even though, in the quiet moments alone in his cabin or the ready room on the bridge, he sometimes admitted to himself that he was lonely. Odd, that. That a person could be surrounded by a ship full of colleagues and still feel lonely. And empty.
But they were his subordinates, not his peers. Not his friends. He could trade jokes with a few of the old hands who’d served him since the fire falcon’s commission, but he always felt he had to keep something of a professional distance, that he had to be the captain, someone to be obeyed instantly and not questioned. Friends, one questioned. Superior officers, one did not. And so the relationships had to be.
Lonely. Until Tala had come aboard his ship. Someone who, as strange as it seemed, given their different backgrounds, was not that different from him. Except that she was a lot prettier than he was.
A scrape on the hatch drew him back to the present, and he lifted his chin as it swung open.
A large gray Zi’i stood in the entryway, one paw-hand gripping the latch, while the other three supported him on the deck, his broad powerful chest, his svenkar-like body, and his head with a snout full of fangs. The yellow eyes were unlike a svenkar’s eyes, though. They were sharp with cunning and as much intelligence as a human had.
Other Zi’i crowded the airlock tube behind the lead one. The admiral was not among them. That was neither surprising nor unsurprising. Often, the Zi’i commanders led by example, with their highest-ranking warriors at the front of boarding parties, but the admiral could have considered this a simple task and delegated it to one of his officers. After all, his warship held the Falcon 8 fast. They had greater numbers and greater firepower, and with a simple comm call, could bring other Zi’i warships in for backup.
The gray stalked in, the fur on his back bristling, a sign that he was ready to fight.
The Zi’i had spacesuits for exterior repairs if need be, but they did not have anything like human combat armor. They thought it cowardly to hide behind protection, and most often, they used only their claws and fangs for weapons, though they did have some shields and projectile weapons. Sage spotted a few of the death launchers on the backs of the Zi’i in the tube. He had used that lack of combat armor—and the self-sustaining environmental system that came with it—to his advantage before. Perhaps he would get an opportunity to do so today.
The gray paused a couple of steps into the cargo hold and peered around, his snout up as he sniffed the air.
“There are a lot of you here just to collect me,” Sage said, hoping to divert the leader from his investigation.
Since his men wore combat armor, their scents would be somewhat diminished, and everyone had walked through the sterilization shower before coming down here, but Zi’i had very good noses. It was possible they would be able to detect the hiding troops, even though the hold must smell of the food stuffs held here and all the men who’d passed through in previous days.
“You are Captain Sagitta,” the gray said, striding toward him. As if those words explained everything.
A dozen more Zi’i followed him out of the airlock with even more stepping into the tube behind them. Sage had hoped that more than the two or three necessary to collect him would come on board—his plan would be much easier to enact with the Zi’i forces split—but he worried anew for the women and his crew.
“I’ve agreed to come with you peaceably so that my ship and my people may go free.” Sage spread his arms, his helmet in one hand, showing his head to be vulnerable.
“Yes. Gyr and Zrgg will take you to see our admiral.”
The gray shifted to walk past him, toward the corridor leading into the ship. Others moved to follow while only two diverted toward Sage.
“You are not invited onto my ship,” Sage said, raising his voice and pinning the gray with his gaze. Though this was what he’d planned for, he had better not let them think it.
“We do not need your invitation, human.”
“My ship is to be let go.” Sage tensed as the two Zi’i the leader had singled out came forward to stand to either side of him. Though they stood on four legs, their heads were level with his.
“And so it shall be,” the gray said from the cargo hold exit. “After we have searched your databases and questioned all your people.”
“You will harm no one,” Sage roared.
“Your ship will be permitted to go. Harm was not discussed.” The gray looked back, displaying his racks of fangs in a mockery of a grin, then strolled into the corridor.
Sage dropped his helmet and jumped back as the two Zi’i reached for him. He threw a punch at one, surprising him and slipping past his defenses. Even though his combat armor gave him extra strength, and he landed a solid blow, the Zi’i didn’t go flying back as a human might have. With four hundred pounds of bone and muscle, the alien accepted the blow without so much as a stumble. A roar was the only indication that it had disturbed him at all.
The second Zi’i lunged at Sage from behind.
Anticipating the attack, Sage flung himself in a backward roll and jumped to his feet, coming up so he faced both enemies. They sprang at him as one. He darted to the side, avoiding one altogether and throwing up his arm to deflect the snapping jaws of the second. Had his arm been bare, those fangs would have gouged holes in his flesh, but they only scraped the hard alloy of his armor.
Sage jumped in close to his attacker, throwing another punch. It landed with a satisfying thud, but only elicited another roar.
One of the alien’s legs came up, the paw-hand rolling into something akin to a fist. It launched at Sage, and he jumped to the side, but not quickly enough. It struck him hard enough to send him spinning. He almost hit the deck, but recovered his balance in time to keep
his feet.
“Halt, Captain,” a Zi’i spoke from the side. One from the queue of aliens that had been following the gray into the ship. He sat on his haunches and held a death launcher with his two forward paw-hands, the electricity crackling around the tip of the spear loaded in it.
Sage pretended to consider whether to obey. He hadn’t truly expected to hurt the Zi’i much in the fight, nor to gain the advantage, but he’d figured they would be suspicious if he stood meekly as threats were made to his crew.
He was glad his men had guessed what he was up to and hadn’t come out from behind the crates to help. Their time would come soon, but not yet.
“Take him to the admiral,” the armed Zi’i said to the others.
“Yes, Squad Leader.”
Scowling deeply, Sage plucked his helmet from the deck, then allowed the two Zi’i to flank him and grip his arms. The joints of his armor creaked under the power of those grips, and they forced him toward the airlock.
Sage, who had been keeping track of the invaders even as he fought, counted twenty-six Zi’i disappearing into his ship. Two more took up guard positions near the airlock hatch. Sage’s people would have to deal with those two in such a way that they didn’t have time to report to their superiors, but he trusted they could do so.
As they walked through the tube, he and his two Zi’i escorts followed by the one with the projectile weapon, Sage surreptitiously thumbed a button inside his helmet and angled it under his arm so the visor pointed forward. It started recording, sending the feed directly to Hierax.
His people had the schematics of Zi’i warships, but these were new models and might have changed slightly. If there were any surprises waiting inside, Sage wanted to make sure his men were aware of it before they tried to board.
Tried? No, they had to board.
Otherwise, Sage would never be able to escape, never walk off that ship ever again.
17
Tala only had a few steps of open deck that she could pace along, but she did so, chewing her nails as she walked back and forth in the little office. Angela stood in the doorway with Lulu. Katie and Juanita were behind her, bolt bows in their hands. For now, the Falcon 8 was quiet, but based on the occasional updates from Zakota, Tala knew they were attached to the alien warship and trapped by some kind of energy beam it had wrapped around them.
In the main sickbay, Orion stood directly in front of the door, his bolt bow ready in his arms. The women were being careful to stay out of his way.
The sickbay door was locked, but Tala had a feeling that wouldn’t mean much to a determined boarding party. She knew Sage had left several armed and armored men in the corridor outside, but she wondered if that was a boon. Wouldn’t intruders assume those men had been left to guard something valuable? Wouldn’t the aliens be more likely to trot past without checking sickbay if the corridor were empty? After all, numerous doors lined the passage to either side, all with a similar look. A plaque identified this one as sickbay, but would alien intruders think to look inside here first? Surely, other parts of the ship would be more of a priority. Of course, they might be looking for easy prey to capture… and eat.
Tala accidentally bumped the chair, and it spun. A grunt came from under the desk.
“Sorry,” she said.
She had forgotten Indigo was under there.
“It’s fine,” Indigo said. “And for the record, I’m not hiding cowardly from the alien invaders. I’m staying out of the way.”
“That’s what we’re all doing,” Juanita said—she didn’t look that comfortable holding the bow weapon. Out of all the women, Katie and that Bethany out there were the only ones who looked like they truly wanted to shoot people—or aliens. “It seems smart.”
“That’s me,” Indigo said. “A genius.”
Her head thunked back against the support for the desk.
“I don’t even like hiking,” Indigo said, “because of the rattlesnakes. I prefer the indoors. The outdoors is full of scary things.”
“Technically, I think we are indoors,” Angela said.
At her side, Lulu swished her tail back and forth as she watched the main door, much like Orion was doing. Tala wondered if the svenkar had superior hearing and could detect intruders in the corridors.
“Eridanus,” Tala said, “are there aliens on the ship yet?”
“There are twenty-eight Zi’i warriors aboard the Falcon 8,” Eridanus stated calmly.
“Is that a lot?” Juanita asked.
“The Zi’i are supreme warriors with strength and speed greater than that of a human. In hand-to-hand combat, they usually defeat even combat-hardened humans such as Star Guardians.”
“I saw one almost take down Treyjon,” Angela said, “and he’s a stud.”
“A stud? Are we talking about battles or beds?” Juanita asked.
“He beat up Commander Varro.”
“I’m not sure that answers my question.”
Angela swatted her.
Juanita sighed. “Why is it that aliens are always superior to humans? Even the peace-and logic-loving Vulcans are stronger than we are.”
“The Zi’i are anything but peace-loving,” Orion said from his spot in the main room.
Tala paced. She felt useless. She didn’t want people to get hurt to give her something to do, but she wished she could help somehow.
“Can you show us where they are, Eridanus?” Tala asked.
“Oh, good idea,” Juanita said, turning toward the desk. “Yes, please show us the video feeds. Especially the one of our corridor outside.”
“I may only be able to display such imagery for a short time,” Eridanus said as the holographic display came on over the desk. “One group of Zi’i is heading toward the bridge, and they intend to attempt to access my databases. I can play many tricks to keep them from making progress, but if they have a talented hacker, I could be thwarted. In which case, I would need to destroy myself to keep them from acquiring critical information.”
“Why does everyone here want to commit suicide?” Tala muttered as she studied the four camera feeds that came up.
“What do you mean?” Angela asked her.
“Never mind.”
Tala shuddered at the sight of the dark-furred and fanged Zi’i stalking through the ship’s white corridors in teams of six or eight. The way they moved reminded her of apes, but they looked more like furry versions of the deadly svenkars. But unlike svenkars, they spoke to each other. She couldn’t hear anything over the display, but she saw their mouths moving, alternating in a conversation as they glanced at each other. Those definitely were not random growls.
“They don’t wear combat armor, Eridanus?” Juanita asked.
“No, they consider it cowardly.”
“Are all our people in armor?” Tala asked, the conversation spawning an idea in her mind. “The ones outside of sickbay?”
“Yes. And the Star Guardians in engineering and the environmental control room. Lieutenant Commander Korta is not wearing armor, and Commander Zakota does not have his helmet affixed, but is otherwise wearing a suit. They are both located on the bridge.”
“Do the Zi’i breathe the same air as we do?” Tala asked, figuring they must since she didn’t see any masks.
“They evolved on a planet with a similar ratio of oxygen and nitrogen as humans are accustomed to,” Eridanus said. “There are small differences, and their air feels thin to humans due to less oxygen, but humans are able to subsist in their environment and vice versa.”
“Oh,” Juanita blurted, perhaps guessing Tala’s thoughts. “Could we suck all the air off the ship, except what’s in sickbay and on the bridge, and deprive them of oxygen, so they’d have to run back to their ship? Or, uh, not make it back to their ship? Our people’s combat armor provides them with an independent air supply, doesn’t it?”
“The Zi’i are a hardy species and can survive for thirty minutes without oxygen,” Eridanus informed them. “That may be a sufficient
time for them to finish their mission. Group One has reached engineering.” He made one of the feeds flash. The Zi’i in it were stopping in front of the door to engineering. Tala recognized the temporarily patched spot on the wall where the ensigns had tried to break in. “Group Two is approaching the bridge.”
“Zakota better put his helmet on,” Tala said.
“He has donned it, and he, Korta, and Lieutenant Coric are prepared to defend themselves. They have lowered the blast door in the corridor outside and placed explosives on the deck inside to slow down the enemy. Chief Hierax also placed booby traps in engineering before he left.”
“Left?”
“He is among the boarding party that is attempting to defeat the enemies on the Zi’i ship even as many of their warriors are distracted by invading our ship. Captain Sagitta told his Star Guardians to delay these Zi’i so they would not easily be able to return to defend their own ship.”
“So Sage is with the boarding party?” Tala asked. “Captain Sagitta, I mean.”
“He was captured by the Zi’i and taken prisoner aboard their ship seven minutes ago.”
“Captured?” Tala breathed, thinking of Sage pulling that capsule of poison out of the cabinet. “Why the hell isn’t he here so I can tell him what a shitty plan this is?”
Juanita gave her a sympathetic look.
“Combat has engaged in engineering,” Eridanus reported, ignoring her other question. “You may wish to prepare yourself for casualties soon, Doctor.”
“Great. Is there anything else we could do to them, when they’re breathing the air and our people aren’t?” Tala paused her pacing and gripped the edge of the desk. “What about that sedative we were prepared to pump through the vents to put everyone to sleep?”
“Zi’i physiology is different from that of humans,” Eridanus said, being about as helpful as a piece of gum on the bottom of a shoe. “They are immune to our stun weapons, and our sedatives have unpredictable effects on them.”
“What does work on them?” Tala demanded. “These are your long-time mortal enemies, right? You—humans—must have a big database of information gathered on what kills them.”
Sagitta: Star Guardians, Book 3 Page 15