Edge of Redemption (A Star Too Far Book 3)

by Casey Calouette

  Fear rolled over her and she stepped back. She slid the pistol up and tasted bitterness in her mouth. “Who are you?”

  The shape stood and dropped both arms to the side. The drop continued lower and the hands hung level with the knees. Too far.

  Emilie groaned and knew it was one of the simian faced monsters.

  “Are you alone?” the sound asked once more. It crackled slightly.

  “Shit,” she said. A recording. She leveled the pistol and pulled the trigger.

  The light exploded out from the barrel and blinded her with both light and sound. Darkness enveloped her and she cried out. The monument met her back and the cold wetness pushed through her jacket. She scrambled, rolled and pushed away. The grass was thick against her legs and she ran. Ran.

  A mewing sound called out after her. She spun and fear filled her. She waved the pistol and fired once more. Her feet couldn’t move fast enough to get away from the sounds of feet stamping and breathing. It was all around her.

  “Help! Kari!”

  She turned and ran, sprinting into the hummocks of grass. A dark shape loomed before her and she cried out and shot at it. The shape shuddered and fell to the side. The heavy footsteps were closer but she still couldn’t see. The fear was electric inside of her, deep, an animal fear that was tens of thousands of years old. A prey reaction, flight.

  “Help!” she screamed out again.

  Another voice yelled out in a language she didn’t know. Then they were on her. The thick armed beasts leapt at her. Heavy hands snatched out and ripped the pistol from her grasp. The hands were wet, cold, like slabs of meat. They pushed her down onto the ground.

  She screamed in fear and thrashed against her captors but couldn’t get away. The strength was amazing. She tried to move but was held tightly to the ground. A clump of grass was tight against her cheek. It smelled like tea. She was too afraid to cry. The monsters holding her were now placid like livestock—there was no anger, no retribution, just a dull compliance.

  Something warm dripped on her face and ran down into the corner of her mouth. She licked her lips and turned away from it. Blood. The sickness came back and she tried not to retch but couldn’t stop it.

  Soft footsteps came closer. The voice spoke again and she was heaved into a standing position. She couldn’t see who was before her, but a slight green glow came from the face shield. She wiped her lips on the collar of her jacket. “Well?”

  A loud crack sounded out and the green tinted faceshield exploded. The shape crumpled onto the ground in a thud. Shouts echoed from the darkness and the meaty hands threw her onto the ground once more.

  Emilie lay and listened as the wind grew louder. The hands held her and she finally relaxed. She owed Kari for at least taking one, but there were others now, someone ordered the heavy ones. She thought on it and saw the caste system. These were animals holding her, animals who took orders from someone else.

  A sound scraped closer and she turned her head. Another green tinted faceshield crawled up. The light was low to the ground and bored into her. “You weren’t alone,” a man’s voice said in a heavy Australian accent.

  She felt a cold metallic touch on her neck. The fear stabbed into her. There was a hiss and then the darkness came. The darkness mixed with fear.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Huron pointed to the screen above him and ran his hand from one edge to the other. “Some damage here, but nothing severe. Grav shields are about useless.”

  “No chance to refit more?” Shay asked.

  “There isn’t any niobium or technetium in the cells. We used the last of it on the decoy.”

  Shay sighed and nodded.

  William watched the maintenance display and ticked off what they could repair. He listened to his meager staff banter back and forth about failed and failing systems. The real worry on his mind was when the ship would begin to fail. Was the Gruffalo right, he wondered?

  “Structurally?” he asked.

  “Fine. Fine.” Huron gestured to the screen. “Strain sensors show it all looks good.” His eyes glanced to Shay and Bryce.

  The three looked between each other, avoiding William.

  He saw it and knew what they were thinking. “Keep an eye on it.” His eyes danced over the screen and stopped on the yellow icon for the launcher. “Missiles?”

  Huron shrugged and glanced at a maintenance bot that hung from the ceiling. “It shows loader alert, but I can’t see anything wrong with it.”

  “Will it fire?”

  “I don’t know,” Huron said, the displeasure evident on his face.

  “You don’t like not knowing, eh?” Shay asked.

  Huron sighed and shook his head. “No! It’s just these things, well, we don’t have the systems for this.”

  William frowned but knew it was true. They had barely enough supplies to get them to Winterthur and back to Earth. Already the supplies of food and water were approaching empty. He hadn’t mentioned rationing yet, but the computer told him it was coming.

  He thought of running out of food and a tightness spread in his chest. His pulse darted up and he sighed. Food. He starved once before and even the thought of it happening again was enough to terrify him.

  “Captain, if we head back now—”

  “No,” William said.

  “It’s lost, Captain, we haven’t heard from the surface in two days. Even if we take out the Gallipoli, what then?”

  William clenched his hands. The part that hit him hardest was he knew she was speaking the truth. He itched the palm of his augmetic hand and breathed out loudly through his nose. He could feel the weight of the eyes on him. He was on the fulcrum of the moment, they could go either way. “We chose to stay to make a difference, not abandon this world. Ms. Rose told us they wanted to make a change on the surface. What if by knocking out the only hostile ship in the system, we could make that happen?”

  Shay stared at the floor. Bryce darted his eyes between Huron and Shay. “But what if they can’t?”

  “We need to refit, get ready to strike again. How long?” William said to Huron.

  Huron sucked air through his teeth. “Two more days?”

  Bryce stood slowly and raised an arm up and pointed at the solar system view. “What about that?”

  A pair of icons hung on the edge of the system. The two were so close that they almost touched. The monastery ship was almost on top of the prison facility.

  The bridge was silent as everyone looked up. Huron made a clicking sound with his tongue and the corner of his mouth rose into a smile. “Huh.”

  “Bryce, tight beam to both, see if anyone is listening,” William said. “Shay, call up the details on that ship.”

  “Does it even move?” Shay asked.

  “You need to find out,” William said. Troops. They found troops. Well, he thought, they were technically convicts, but if they could move them and get them to that elevator.

  “Wait a second, you want to use the monks to transport a load of convicts?” Shay asked.

  Bryce nodded. ”Uh, yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”

  “Why would they? I mean, either one? I mean they’re monks and convicts. You’re going to have to give them weapons!”

  “All you need is proper motivation,” Huron said.

  Shay shook her head. “This is crazy.”

  “I’m open to options,” William said.

  Shay leaned over her console. Her fingers tapped slowly. She turned and looked over at William. “We’ll know in an hour.”

  William smiled and patted her on the shoulder. Was this really a way forward? Convicts and clergy. But would they fight? “Mr. Huron, let’s see what your cell can produce for weapons.”

  The two men walked off the bridge. The smell of garlic was still in the air even though they ran out of the flavoring days before.

  William caught himself just before the transition to zero gravity and prepared by tightening his stomach. He still disliked the feel and pushed hims
elf through it as quickly as he could. At the opposite end of the hallway, the scuffed orange line came up quickly.

  The engineering console brought up a short list of small arms. A mix of rugged pistols, the venerable Benelli boarding shotgun, and a second generation Colt. The largest caliber weapon was a static platform that punched out a twenty millimeter slug. William scrolled through the list and nodded. “Corporal Vale?” he called over the comms.

  “Sir?” Corporal Vale snapped back a second later.

  “Engineering, please.”

  The heavy sound of thudding footsteps was only interrupted by a bellow of “Make way!”. In less time than it took for William to cross the zero gravity gap, the Corporal stood in the doorway, at attention, with her chin held high. “Captain.”

  “At ease, Corporal, I’m in need of some advice.” William smiled and explained the plan.

  She watched with her hands clasped behind her back and not a single shred of emotion on her face. When William was finished, she glanced down at the display. “Do they have experience?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “What’s going to keep them from shooting us?”

  Valid point, William thought.

  “Incentives,” Huron said.

  She scratched a scar on her nose and tapped the screen. “Mostly shotguns, squad support with the Colts and a twenty-to-one ratio on the heavy platform. Armor if you can swing it, boarding shields, hmm.”

  “Speak your mind, please,” William said.

  “What if that old bucket of shit can’t launch capsules? You’ll have to assault the elevator and that’s a terrible thing to do.”

  William nodded. He’d assaulted one elevator from the ground and defended one from the ground. He was well aware of the terrible price to pay.

  “Who’s going to lead them?”

  William looked over to Corporal Vale and smiled. “Corporal, I can think of no finer task for the Marines.”

  Corporal Vale, without the slightest hint of sarcasm, replied, “My thoughts exactly.”

  “I’ll get the station pumping out some weapons,” Huron said as he poked at his console.

  William walked out of engineering. He decided to give Shay and Bryce some more time and snap up a bite to eat. The thought of filling a monastery with convicts brought up a feeling of giddiness and worry. Even if both sides agreed, how would he cover it? The monastery would have to blink towards the planet. The two were close enough that they could load the ancient dropship using grav drives, but as soon as they blinked it’d be like a beacon.

  Attack, he thought. He smiled over at Grgur and scooped up a shallow tray of reconstituted noodles and sauce. His tablet buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket and clicked it open. The action was almost subconscious, a reaction bred from a lifetime of instant data gratification.

  The display showed a wide yellow box with a red flashing ring.

  He paused with a fork full of noodles halfway to his mouth. The message didn’t flash, or blare, or do anything beside inform him that in four weeks the UCS-1134 would disassemble. It instructed him to return to the nearest UC shipyard for urgent maintenance. He reread it and set the noodles back down. Urgent maintenance, he liked the way it was phrased. As if disassembling a ship in the vacuum of space wasn’t urgent.

  He sighed and found his appetite gone. Four weeks. In four weeks they could hit the shipyard on Epsilon Eridani. His plans suddenly stumbled and he was struck with doubt. Could they stay? He felt foolish—prisoners, monks, an orbital assault? Really?

  “Captain?” Shay’s voice called in his ear.

  “Just hold on, Shay,” William replied. He stared down at the maintenance alert.

  “You need to get up here, Captain.”

  “What is it?” William replied, annoyed. He wanted to be left in his cloud of doubt.

  “A message, sir.”

  He looked up from the tablet. “Emilie?”

  “The Hun,” she said. “They’ve issued an ultimatum.”

  *

  He stared down at his console and read through it again. They gave him an out, offered to let him leave. They could just go. No pursuit. “If we stay, they start shooting civilians,” he said flatly.

  The star system was broad in one screen with a simulated exit path illuminated across it. The orbit of the planets was plotted out showing various intercept points and priority Haydn routes.

  Huron filed in with Corporal Vale. The bridge was now about as tight as it could get.

  “I received a command priority maintenance alert,” William said. “We have four weeks to get to a UC shipyard.”

  He felt sunk, like the ship was about to steer itself. He could return, salvage a few careers, and go to fight another day. “This isn’t our fight anymore.”

  Lieutenant Shay clambered over her chair and grasped the seatback with white knuckles. She glared at William. “You listen to me, goddammit. We followed you this far—not because of you, but because it was the right thing. And now what? They open a door and you walk?”

  William stared down at his XO and felt both anger and regret. “We’ve got a duty to the UC, we have our orders,” he said weakly. His heart wasn’t behind the words.

  “Bullshit,” she spat again. “We took an oath to the Covenant, just like you said. We can do this! We can make a damn difference here. You of all people should know that.”

  The words stung and William felt it in his heart. The memory of his father, the last commander of Farshore, fighting for the freedom of the planet. Fighting the UN Navies, an enemy he couldn’t beat. When he finally did win, they burned the planet. Which brought him full circle to the Covenant and the United Colonies, that noble document they all swore to. Not to a nation, or a state, but to rights common to all.

  He looked to Shay and then down to Bryce. His eyes swung over to Huron, the man who’d stood with him on another ship. Another disaster. Finally over to Corporal Vale, a woman who’d have to tame a den of lions, and then make them fight.

  What about me? he thought. All I have to do is kill that ship.

  Shay opened her mouth and swelled up again. William raised a hand and silenced her.

  “You’re right,” William said.

  The words caught in her mouth and she pulled back. Huron nodded and nudged Vale. The atmosphere on the bridge shifted and the confidence crept back in. William sat slowly and erased the nav plot leading out and instead changed it to lead directly to Winterthur.

  “Get the monastery on the horn. Same with the warden of that prison ship. Shay, will everyone fit?”

  Shay glanced over at a set of schematics rolling across her console. “Yes, sir!”

  “This needs to happen quick like. Once they see us blink it’s game on.” He looked up at the narrow white line that burned straight for Winterthur. “Run the plots, we’ve got to cover that dropship.”

  Huron glanced over at Vale. “Additive cells are producing. But we’re going to run out of binders.”

  “Not enough weapons?” Shay asked.

  “There’s enough,” Vale said. “They’ll just pick ‘em up from the dead ones.”

  “Anything from the ground?” Bryce asked.

  “Don’t count on it until we’ve heard from Emilie,” William said. “Now I’ve got to convince an Abbot to lend us his ship.”

  “What about the prisoners?” Bryce asked.

  “I’m not worried about that conversation. We’ll offer the one thing they want.”

  “Freedom,” Bryce replied with a smile.

  *

  The Abbot was slender in the cheeks with the posture of an accountant. His hair was a subtle tint of gray that blended in the edges into a frizzy white. The hair seemed even whiter in contrast to his almost soot black skin. One eye was missing in a shiny tuft of scar tissue and the other was milky and round like a potato. He stared into the screen and was silent like a sentinel.

  William sat and waited for his message to reach the monk. The light lag was just long e
nough to make conversation awkward, but not so long that it could be put off. So he spoke, and watched a face that was a few minutes old. Three minutes there, and three minutes for the reaction to get back.

  He wanted to address the Abbot as Captain, a rank the man once held, but instead stuck to the current title. The Abbot had a steady Naval career that ended, abruptly, in solemn retirement. The records didn’t say how he lost his vision. After retiring, William assumed.

  The Abbot nodded slowly into the camera and listened attentively. His face slid away from curious and merged firmly into stern. Eyebrows knotted and his mouth moved slightly, but no sounds came out. He sucked in a deep breath of air through his nose and nodded slowly.

  William watched and waited for the reply. He felt a knot in his stomach but also a hope, the majority of the monks and nuns were ex-military. But even if his appeal to their sense of duty worked, the thought of a few hundred convicts...

  “Captain Grace,” Abbot Kyenge said slowly and deliberately. “You ask of us something that pains me deeply.”

  William kept his face still, tried not to show any emotion. He knew how easy it was to scrutinize and pick apart someone when the light lag was so long.

  “I am the voice of this order, and this is my decision.” The Abbot paused and looked conflicted.

  William wanted to speak, to argue his case, and caught himself before his excitement got the better of him. The feed was over three minutes old.

  “We will help you,” the Abbot said in a strained voice. “But we will do no violence. After the capsules are launched, we will depart. And we will depart with any who wish to come.”

  He tried not to smile, did everything he could to look as serious as possible, but a little crook edged up on the corner of his mouth. “Thank you, Abbot Kyenge. My XO Lieutenant Ali Shay and my Engineer Ebenezer Huron will coordinate. We will transfer over my Marines to command the drop. We are indebted to you and your order.” He finished his words and waited as professionally as he could manage for the reply.

  Six minutes later the feed came and the Abbot smiled. “You’re welcome, Captain, but I risk much, I trust you can keep us safe.” The Abbot looked hard into the camera and let the words sink in. “Sister Dandalaza asked about the woman she dropped off. If you know anything, could you inform us? God Bless.”