Elliot isn't the only one worried, he thought in the hallway. The others on the Ancillary were becoming careless in their concern. Javin never should have escaped, regardless of the chaos at the time. They didn't understand the purpose of the mission, or why he was willing to take such heavy losses. Profit was useless if you were dead.
Any other time Soren might have punished the guards for questioning him. But his force was dwindling: only five men remained on the Ancillary, and two here on the Leviathan. He doubted Javin's crew could put up much resistance--Darren claimed their weapon locker boasted only four rifles, two of which were now captured--but Soren would need every man he had. Punishing Clint for wanting to leave would accomplish little.
Soren's quarters were the most spacious on the ship, befitting the Melisao Admiral for whom they were designed. A luxuriously wide bed of felt sheets and feathered pillows occupied the entire wall opposite the door, with needless privacy curtains strung from corner posts. A dining table stood in the center of the room with four carved wooden chairs, and an antique writing desk against the wall to the left. A private cleanliness room adjoined. The wardrobe had space for the clothes of a hundred men, but held only three pairs of trousers, six pressed shirts, and his spare coat. The emptiness of it all, the wasteful spaciousness, was pleasing to Soren.
He spoke a command. The empty wall to the left was suddenly alive, one large computer screen that stretched from floor to ceiling. A single face looked around the room before settling on Soren.
"Good evening, Kainoa."
Kainoa's hair was white as ice, though his face was too young to be wrinkled. Soren thought they were similar in age. His thick eyebrows still held a bit of brown in them, and were so low on his head they nearly obscured his eyes. They frowned down at Soren now. "It's morning here. You should know that."
He could see out a window behind Kainoa. He was on Beron, one of the moons of Ouranos, the gas giant far at the edge of Saria's grasp. The moon was covered in ice; Soren could see the pale blue landscape in the background, and the blackness of space above.
"We've been focused on our task," Soren said.
"I should hope so. Is it done?"
"Nearly," said Soren. "We've had delays. But we will be ready for the next alignment, ten days from now."
Kainoa's scowl deepened. "No. The Ancillary needs to be ready during this alignment. Today."
"That wasn't what we discussed."
"Plans have changed," Kainoa said. "The date of the flagship ceremony was changed unexpectedly. The Ancillary must be yours, and the alignment reprogrammed, in ten hours."
Soren licked his lips, looking around the room with his flesh eye. "We will not be ready in time."
Kainoa regarded him placidly. When he finally spoke his voice was dangerously soft. "If you cannot be ready in ten hours then your usefulness to the Children has ceased." He looked off-screen. "That would be unfortunate for Theresa."
Pain gripped Soren's chest. He clenched his hands into fists to keep them from shaking. "Let me see her."
"Why should I do anything for a man who cannot fulfill his promise?"
"We can fulfill our original promise," Soren said, "of having the Ancillary ready in ten days. Ten hours is impossible."
Kainoa shrugged. "I must admit I'm disappointed. Your reputation was obviously exaggerated."
Soren didn't rise to the insult. "We will do our best, but I can make no promises."
"Then I can make no promises regarding Theresa's well-being." There was no malice to Kainoa's voice; it was a statement of fact. "I will require another update in five hours. I expect you to be prompt. My doubts would be eased if you possess the Ancillary's command room by then."
Soren nodded. Kainoa's face disappeared as the wall returned to black.
For a long while Soren stared at the wall. His group of pirates had completed hundreds of jobs since capturing the Leviathan: convoy interceptions; assassinations and kidnappings; even raids on stations like Oasis. But they'd never attacked the Melisao Empire directly. Profit was their goal, and credits could not be spent if they were dead.
Until the Children of Saria arrived on Beron. Soren's base on the ice moon was a long-held secret, but somehow Kainoa and the fanatics had discovered it. And now they had no choice. He wondered what his men would do, what they would say, if they knew the true motive for their mission. If they knew their families were held captive.
Soren spoke another command. The wall became painfully bright. When his flesh eye finally adjusted Saria filled the wall, viewed from a camera at the rear of the Leviathan. Filters made the star visible without danger, but even so his eye watered from her light. Saria was mostly orange, with bits of black and white scattered across her surface. But the spots did nothing to diminish her beauty. She was without flaw, perfect in whichever eye Soren chose to see.
Soren sat cross-legged on the floor and closed his eye. The light was still visible on his eyelid, like a thin curtain covering a window at midday. He sighed, pretending he could feel the star's warmth.
He imagined he was back on Beron with his wife. He tried picturing Theresa's face, sitting with him in the frigid air, a view of the blue planet Ouranos above them. But when he turned to kiss her it was Beth that stared back, the light of her eyes disappearing as she died again and again.
Chapter 14
He was still meditating several hours later, cross-legged on the floor in front of the view of Saria, when the explosion knocked him over.
Onyx figurines from the shelf next to his bed clattered to the floor. Soren tried to stand but again the floor shook him back to his knees. When it stopped he ran into the hallway on wobbly feet.
Killam was alone on the bridge, struggling from one station to another, trying to do the job of three men. An ever-present alarm pierced Soren's ears. Through the bridge window he could see the Ancillary whirling; the Leviathan had undocked and was turning away from the station.
"More explosives planted?"
"Enemy ships!" Killam yelled over his shoulder. "There's one Carrion-class junker below us; four of its turrets are online and firing, but more are powering-up."
"What else?" Soren asked. The explosions he felt didn't come from a junker's meager turrets.
"Two pairs of missiles hit our engines," Killam said, "but I don't know where they came from. The junker is the only thing on my radar."
"Sentinels," Soren said. Darren warned there was a pair of Sentinels patrolling the solar ring, but they should have been another day away. He scanned the black, as if squinting could make the stealth ships appear. "Who else is on the Leviathan?"
"Just us. Everyone else is rock-side."
Star shit. "Begin evasive maneuvers. Bring our remaining cannon around to fire on the junker, if you can."
"What about the Sentinels?"
Soren turned to leave. "I'll take care of them."
He was halfway to the Leviathan's dock when more missiles hit. He steadied himself in a doorway until it was safe to move again. They were definitely Sentinels, based on the time between missile shots. He sprinted the rest of the way.
There was only one Needle ship remaining; Javin's resistance at the solar ring destroyed the other. Soren grimaced, reminded of how poorly the mission was going. Capture an old man, use him to access the Ancillary. It all seemed so easy.
The doors opened for him and he raced to the small fighter's cockpit. The Needles were docked within the Leviathan's hull, so the only view Soren had was of metal. He strapped himself into the chair, tapped some commands into the clear computer screen until the view changed: the doors blurred open, revealing the black beyond. Another command and the sides of the dock streaked past as the Needle fired into space.
Two joysticks controlled the ship's movement. Soren pulled the Needle around in a tight arc. There was Saria, a ball of molten orange looming over him, filling his view. She was brilliant, awe-inspiring from so close. Much clearer than from the screen in his bedroom.
He turned some more until the rocky power station swung into view, several hundred feet away. He could see everything: the Leviathan's long frame twisting to bring its sole remaining cannon around; the Carrion-class ship underneath, its five active turrets spraying beams of green lasers in all directions; Javin's junker still docked to the Ancillary, smoking from one large hole where its cockpit should have been.
That's curious, Soren thought.
He maneuvered the joysticks, turning the Needle away from the asteroid. His scanners showed nothing, but he knew they were out here. The ship accelerated at his command. When he was moving fast enough he began pulling the Needle in a wide circle in the middle of open space.
He circled once, then twice, then a third time, but nothing happened; the Sentinels remained concealed. He could see the Leviathan's cannon firing, massive spheres that blurred across space like green marbles. The junker was staying close to the frigate, moving alongside her to stay just out of reach of the cannon while its own turrets returned fire, giving Killam a difficult time. They weren't powerful, but the turrets would slowly tear the frigate apart without Soren's intervention.
Soren resisted the urge to assist. The Sentinels were more dangerous; one missile would obliterate his Needle, and he needed to flush them out before helping the Leviathan. He squinted at the black. He looked for any shape blocking out light, any shimmer hinting at their location.
An alarm blinked in his cockpit. A female voice spoke, clear and computerized: "Incoming missiles."
He jerked the joysticks in the opposite direction, spinning the ship to try to spot the threat. Where are they? He flew diagonally back and forth, hoping to buy himself some time while he searched, but all he saw was the blackness of space. No wait, there: the missiles were nearly invisible in front of Saria, but he could see them now. And there was the shimmer of one of the Sentinels at the edge of the star's penumbra.
Soren thought quickly. If he went straight for the Sentinel the missiles would destroy him before he could find the second, which would still leave the Leviathan vulnerable. He would need to survive long enough to take out both. He marked the Sentinel's location on the computer screen before throwing forward the accelerator.
He was pulled back into his chair as the Needle's engine flared, flying back toward the Ancillary. He couldn't outrun them forever--indeed, the screen showed the missiles drawing closer. The Ancillary spun in his vision as he rolled, darting this way and that, zigging and zagging. The asteroid grew larger--the missiles were close, but he thought he had enough time. He was aware of the Leviathan and the Carrion, dancing around one-another as each tried to maneuver for better position, but he ignored them. They wouldn't matter if his Needle was obliterated.
He turned the Needle to the right, aiming at a stretch of rock between the dock and the transfer laser. He was going fast, too fast, but he didn't dare slow. The missiles would shred his ship if this failed. He was close enough to see inside the dock, where his men stood against the windows, watching. Killam was yelling on the radio, begging for help.
When Soren's ship was thirty feet away he fired the down-facing thrusters.
The Needle shot vertical. He bounced inside his harness as the ship skidded off the asteroid. The sound of metal scraping rock shook the ship. He felt the vibrations in his teeth. Then the Needle was in open space, spinning sideways like a disc; Saria and the Ancillary alternated in his window. He shook off his dizziness and negotiated the joysticks, eventually negating the spin and turning the ship to face the Ancillary.
A cloud of rock drifted through space, like desert dust blown into the air. A crater remained where the missiles had exploded, unable to change course in time to avoid the asteroid. A few alerts blinked in the Needle. He'd hit his head against the seat back, but overall everything appeared fine.
Soren accelerated again, sending the ship back to where the Sentinel was. How much time has passed? he wondered, searching. The enemy ship would have its missiles reloaded soon. Killam no longer screamed on the radio. Soren was afraid he knew what that meant.
He reached the point he'd marked on the radar and stopped. Nothing. Where was it? He was running out of time. If he didn't do something fast he'd be fleeing more missiles.
Desperate, Soren flicked open the switch on one of the joysticks, took a deep breath, and squeezed the trigger.
Beams of green flashed away from him, drank by the bottomless black of space. He moved the joystick while firing, shooting a line across his field of view. He aimed higher and squeezed again, this time firing a vertical line. The constant laser fire was causing his ship to drift backwards but he didn't care. He kept shooting like that, back and forth, up and down, in dotted lines across his vision, all the while conscious of the dial that showed the Needle's power batteries draining.
He widened his range, shooting more wildly, when one of the beams struck. It was a shower of sparks flowering in all directions, revealing the Sentinel's location. He nudged the ship back in its direction, and in two more bursts the invisible enemy craft exploded, its oxygen sucked up in a starburst of flame.
The other Sentinel panicked, engaging its own engine a short distance away, attempting to flee. But the energy-efficient ship couldn't move until the engine was fully-powered, and Soren was already bearing down on it. Within seconds it too was debris.
Soren screamed his triumph in the hollow room.
He didn't let himself celebrate long. The Needle had drifted far from the Ancillary, and he could see lasers spraying from the ships that still dueled.
By the time he returned he found the fight nearly over. The engines of both ships were damaged; they drifted out to space together, side-by-side, unable to change course. The Carrion had one turret still spitting, but the frigate no longer returned fire. Soren accelerated toward the Carrion, maneuvering in a quick fly-by to destroy the remaining turret. Only when it was silenced did he stop to assess the battle.
"Killam? Do you read me?"
The Leviathan smoldered, a dozen gaping wounds scattered across its hull. Flames flared anew as the damage spread and fresh oxygen burned. Even now, with the battle over, bits of the ship continued to break off and float away like crumbling bread.
Soren steered the Needle towards the frigate's bridge, but knew what he would find: the windows there were shattered, the bridge destroyed. He drifted as close as he dared to gaze inside the dark hole. Objects within floated aimlessly, casting a thousand shadows by the Needle's lights. He saw no body.
There was no energy to his voice, but he had to try to hail his comrade. "Killam, this is Soren. What is your position?"
Silence.
He turned the ship around to face the Carrion. A cannon blast had nearly broken the semicircular ship in half; both halves were still connected in the middle, but only barely, the metal there warping from the stress.
And at one end, visibly illuminated, was the intact cockpit.
"Carrion-class junker," Soren said, adjusting the communication channel, "identify yourself."
The man on the other end laughed. "You may salvage her, refit her 'til she's able to fly again, but know that it was Hugo who felled the Leviathan this day."
He ignored the man's taunts. "How did you know we were here? Who else knows?"
"How many of you did I kill? Ten? Twenty? Dock with my ship, pirate, so I may kill my twenty-first."
Soren clenched the joystick until his fingers ached. "Are there any women on board?"
"Stars no, man. Though I wouldn't mind some. You tell Beth that Hugo did the deed alone."
Her face flashed in his mind, the lashes of her eyes going limp.
Soren squeezed the trigger and screamed with anger and sadness and frustration as the lasers shredded the Carrion's cockpit. He continued firing long after Hugo was surely dead, letting go when the battery of his Needle was nearly drained, his voice raw and ragged.
Silently, Soren returned to the asteroid power station. He lined up the Needle to airlock number one.
As soon as he stepped onto the Ancillary he was assailed with questions from his men. Maurice wanted to know where the attackers came from. Elliot wanted to show him something on the computer screen. Darren demanded to kill another hostage.
Soren turned to the latter. "Why aren't you helping Lucas with the laser?"
"He's doing fine by himself," Darren said. "He hardly needs me."
"Whatever you can do to help him, do it," Soren said. "The laser is of paramount importance."
"Why the sudden rush? Don't we have days to--"
"We only have hours!" Soren snarled. "Was your brain in the fingers you lost? Get your ass to the laser or I'll cut your other hand to match."
Darren snarled something incoherent before disappearing into the hallway.
The others all took a step back. It was unlike their leader to threaten them, and they'd likely heard him on the radio with Hugo. Soren always took care to suppress his emotions, so his sudden outbursts must be jarring.
Perhaps he shouldn't have kept them ignorant of the situation on Beron; they might be more responsive, more urgent, if they knew. But it was too late to tell them now.
"The Leviathan is no more," he said, turning to address them all. He pointed to the hallway. "There's no turning back now. There's no path home but through there, deep in the Ancillary where Javin sits in the command room. Capture that and we can all go home. Then, and only then."
Clint and Maurice nodded, but the others were uninspired. Soren supposed it didn't matter, so long as they followed his orders.
He glanced at the wall computer: Kainoa would be expecting an update in an hour, and with the Leviathan no longer operational there was no way for them to communicate. They would need to capture the Ancillary and repair its long-range relay, and hope Kainoa hadn't taken their silence for failure. He tried to picture Theresa, but once again all he saw was Beth. The crippling hollowness of despair spread through his chest.
Elliot tugged at his coat sleeve. "Soren, you need to see this. I know what Javin is planning."
The Ancillary (Tales of a Dying Star Book 2) Page 11