Lord of the Storm

by Justine Davis

  She gasped when a flare of light made her jerk her head around to look toward the stern. Had the other two gotten off hits as well? She hadn’t felt the familiar shudder. The shields would only hold so long, and those last two hits had weakened them. Then she saw a small, scorched object drift away from the tail of the Sunbird.

  “Clumsy of him,” Wolf’s voice drawled in her ear. “Imagine coming so close when we were about to test the thrusters.”

  “Test the . . . ?” Her jaw dropped. Then she laughed, short but joyous. “You toasted him?”

  “He toasted himself. I just tested the thrusters. In case we need them,” he explained with mock patience. And a grin that came through even over the headset. “But your friends are making their turn, Captain. Try a round that explodes this time.”

  “Just shut up and fly,” she said, failing utterly in making the order sound intimidating. His enthusiasm was infectious; she was starting to enjoy this.

  “Yes, Captain,” he returned blandly, and she knew he’d read her mood perfectly.

  She was enjoying this. They were outgunned, outnumbered, and could easily die at any moment, yet she’d never felt so exhilarated. It wasn’t just the adrenaline rush of battle; she’d experienced that enough to know that this was different. And it didn’t take much effort to realize the difference was Wolf.

  She settled in for the third run. She wouldn’t waste any shots this time; she would wait until they were well within range. She had to take them both, and fast. Wolf hadn’t said anything about the shields, but she knew how much they could absorb before they started to weaken.

  She was intent on the two she’d missed the first time, but when the third ship, now sans his singed companion, suddenly appeared at close range, she tried to quickly adjust her guns.

  “Stay locked in. I’ll take him.”

  Wolf’s words startled her, but she instinctively obeyed, holding back her hasty shot. The Sunbird slowed, then rotated slightly in her flat plane of flight. Shaylah held her breath. What on earth was he doing? Then she heard another sound that made her suck in an astonished breath. He was lowering the port shields!

  “Wolf!”

  Nothing. She stared out the viewport. The third fighter suddenly diverted to the port side. He’d spotted the sudden vulnerability and was closing in for the killing blow.

  “Wolf!” she yelled again.

  Still nothing. Desperately she started to swivel around, trying to get a shot off before the fighter disappeared off the port side, even knowing it would put her hopelessly out of position for the other two craft that would be in range in mere seconds.

  “Hold steady, Captain.”

  He didn’t say, “Trust me,” but it was there in his tone. For a fraction of a second she hesitated. Then she returned to her former position and set up on her original target. And waited, every muscle taut with tension.

  She sat rigidly upright when the Sunbird jerked, snapped into a sharp cant down to starboard, then back, so swiftly it seemed impossible it had happened at all. Then, through the view-port, she saw the third fighter careening out of control, tumbling into space.

  “By Eos,” Shaylah breathed. “You sideswiped him!”

  “I did not,” Wolf said, his voice echoing with mock outrage. “I just . . . nudged him.”

  Shaylah laughed out loud; she couldn’t help it. This was the Wolf she’d longed to see, just as she’d always longed to see that last Arellian lion running wild and free.

  “Nudged him?” she exulted. “You lured him in with the downed shields, then knocked him to Antares!”

  “Which is where we’re going to be, Captain,” he warned, and Shaylah jerked back to the matter at hand as she heard the port shield snap back on. The two oncoming fighters were building speed and already firing, for a fast, shooting-all-the-way pass, and Shaylah knew this was going to be tough.

  The fighters would have to break over the top of the ship, she thought. Going beneath would put them in a direct line for the asteroid, and those old Y-wings would never pull out in time at that speed. Quickly she calculated their probable course. They would split, she thought, peeling off in opposing directions, to make it as difficult as possible for her to get them both. She set her guns, one on the lead fighter, the other on the path she guessed the other would take over the top.

  She felt the quiver in the ship as the rounds began to hit. She made herself wait. The targeting computer flashed its readiness; they were in range. Still she waited. She could sense the shields weakening; the ship was vibrating under the constant fire.

  In the instant when her fingers tightened on the trigger, the lead ship broke to sail over her. She adjusted instantly, then fired. She didn’t wait to watch the explosion; she knew it was a hit. She snapped around to fire the second round. And saw it disappear into empty space.

  Incredulously, she realized that the impossible, the insane, had happened. The second pilot, in the instant of decision, had chosen certain suicide. He had broken downward, for the belly of the Sunbird. And in the last instant before he hurtled past on his deadly dive to the asteroid, he fired two parting shots. The first destroyed the Sunbird’s shields. The second plowed into the weapons station.

  The Sunbird lurched violently, jolted by the blow. The destruction of the last fighter, shattered against the unforgiving asteroid, registered on the targeting computer, but the readout was barely visible through the smoke and debris.

  Shaylah tried to move, tried to unfasten the harness that was holding her pinned in the crumpled weapon command seat, but her fingers didn’t seem to work right. She was only vaguely aware that the ship’s emergency systems had worked, sealing off the compartment from the deadly vacuum of space the moment the hit became inevitable. It maintained the integrity of the ship’s pressurization, but it also contained—and magnified—the effect of the blast.

  She tried to look around, but dizziness made her vision blurry. She felt oddly removed from the blaring of alarms, the smoke, the dust, and the twisted wreckage of the guns.

  And the voice. Calling, saying something familiar. She should answer, she thought. Something about that voice made her want to answer, but her voice didn’t seem to be working any better than her fingers.

  She tried to move. Pain shot through her, wringing a sharp gasp from her lips. Her ears rang from it, making even that oddly alluring voice fade. She fell back against the crushed seat.

  There was a leak somewhere, she decided. Something wet was running down her face. And that voice was louder now, sharper. It was hurting her head. Please, don’t shout, she said. Or tried to; she realized after a moment nothing had come out. She turned her head, trying to see.

  They were defenseless now, she thought fuzzily. Full of ammunition, but no guns to fire it with. She should be worried. She should do something. Move. Or answer the voice that was anxiously calling . . . what? Her name? Was that why it seemed familiar?

  Something clicked then, snapped into sharp focus amid the murky confusion. An image, tall, strong, and golden.

  “Wo . . .” She tried again, a bare whisper of sound. “Wolf?”

  “Shaylah! God, are you all right? The hit registered dead center in the weapons station!”

  Yes, she thought. Shaylah. That was her name. He had been calling her. Wolf had been calling her. Her Wolf. Brave, clever, noble Wolf. Prickly Wolf. Loving Wolf.

  She nodded, pleased with her own quick-wittedness. The movement sent pain rippling through her again. Despite herself, she cried out. Her mind began to fog once more, to turn gray and confused.

  “Wolf,” she whispered again. Then she slipped into unrelieved blackness.

  Chapter 10

  WHEN SHE SURFACED this time, Shaylah decided to stay; the pain wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been. And the light seemed fainter, not the painful glare that had driven her back to t
he seductive darkness. Tentatively she opened her eyes.

  She was in her quarters. She was pleased that she was so certain of that; a vague memory of wandering lost and confused in some strange place of twisting pathways, searching endlessly for some unknown golden prize, haunted her. But she knew now she was in her bunk, warm, dry, and comfortable, and she drowsily considered going right back to sleep. Then another memory flickered in the back of her mind, and her eyes snapped open. Her voice was a barely audible whisper of sound.

  “Wolf . . .”

  She felt a movement near her feet, and her gaze shifted in that direction. He was there, uncoiling from where he had been sitting cross-legged on the foot of the bunk, much as she had when he’d been lying here. He was still clad in the flight suit, although it was looking much the worse for wear at the moment. And he was, she realized now, the golden image that had haunted her fevered dreams.

  “Shaylah,” he said, his voice taut with an undertone she didn’t recognize.

  “Wolf,” she said again, stronger this time. “What . . . ? Where . . . ?”

  “It’s all right,” he said soothingly as he moved to the head of the bunk. “We’re safe for now.” She tried to sit up, but sank back down when her head began to spin. “Just rest. We’re all right,” he repeated, sitting on the edge of the bunk at her elbow.

  Shaylah turned her head—slowly—to look at him. He looked tired, his eyes dark-circled, as though he hadn’t slept for days. Another question came to her, and she decided to try her voice again. It was steadier this time.

  “How long . . . have I been out?”

  He gave her a wry half smile. “I’m not sure. As someone else once said, I lost track. I’ve been . . . a little busy.”

  “Wolf, what happened?”

  “It doesn’t matter now. Rest. That explosion laid you out flat.”

  “But the pirates—”

  “Far behind us.”

  “How? After that hit—”

  “It didn’t damage anything but the weapons systems. And you,” he added.

  Shaylah grimaced. “I should have had him. It just never occurred to me that he’d fly straight into the asteroid to get us.”

  “You got half of them,” Wolf said. “Four, really, since he cratered because he couldn’t get past you any other way. Now will you rest?”

  “But how did we get away? Did they back off? Where are we? How bad is the ship?”

  Wolf let out a sigh. “I guess that answers that. All right, Captain.” He began to tick off the items like a dutiful ensign giving a report. “The structural damage is minimal, although the weapons systems are almost a total loss. The pressure seals worked perfectly, securing the compartment before it could depressurize.”

  Shaylah felt a chill ripple through her; the Sunbird had saved her life once more. She shifted, carefully so as not to rouse the pain that seemed to be easing. And colored when she realized she was naked beneath the thermoactive cover. Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself. He’s certainly seen everything you have before. There’s no reason to get in a fume because he stripped you while you were unconscious. Especially when you did the same to him.

  “What about the pirates?” she asked hastily.

  Wolf’s eyes narrowed at her blush, but he went on as if he hadn’t noticed. “After the last fighter went down—after the hit—I cut her loose.” He nodded in the direction of the con. “She’s a pretty quick little ship, Captain. We left them in our ion trail.”

  “They didn’t follow? After we wiped out their fighters?”

  He shrugged. “I, er . . . gave them a little diversion to worry about.” He hurried on before she could question that. “As to our position, we’re somewhere off the shipping lane for Boreas.”

  Shaylah stared at him. The ice planet. Not only could he fly like her ship’s namesake, he obviously could also navigate, and had managed to think of one of the safest refuges there could be for them within Coalition boundaries. The knowledge that they were indeed probably safe, for at least a while, left her oddly drained.

  “I wish I’d thought of that,” she said tiredly. “I’d forgotten that with winter setting in on Boreas and the crystal fields shut down, it’s virtually deserted.”

  “Except for the occasional Coalition patrol,” Wolf said dryly.

  “Yes.” She tried to force her eyes to stay open against the lassitude that was stealing over her. “But they only come out here once every month or two in the winter.”

  “That’s what I was hoping. Will you rest now?”

  Something about the entreaty in his voice made her want to say yes. She wondered at that, and while she was pondering the odd effect his voice seemed to have on her, she slipped back to sleep.

  When she awoke again, she was feeling much better. And Wolf was there, with a cup of fragrant liquid that made her stomach growl. At the sound he grinned at her, and she nearly forgot how to breathe. He held the cup for her, and as she sipped the broth she watched him, savoring the change in him more than the nourishment she needed.

  She sat up when she had finished, gingerly at first, then more easily when she realized the sharp pain had receded into a dull, bearable ache. Questions bubbled up inside her, so many that she didn’t know where to begin. As if he knew her predicament, Wolf spoke, that undercurrent of reckless amusement detracting from his dutiful tone.

  “Still no sign of another ship of any kind. We’re on minimum acceleration, just short of drifting. The shields are recharged. I pieced together one cannon that’s operational, although I doubt if the targeting computer’s worth anything anymore. It’s not much, but it’s better than no defenses at all.”

  Who are you? Only the certainty that she would again get no answer kept Shaylah from voicing the question again. Then something he’d said before came back to her, and she had to ask.

  “What kind of a diversion, Wolf?”

  It came out of context, as if they were merely continuing the earlier conversation, but he knew immediately what she meant. An odd expression flickered across his face, surprise tinged with guilt, and then he looked away.

  “I . . . It was just something to keep them busy. I wasn’t sure how badly damaged we were, or how much speed we’d be able to make.”

  “It’s all right, Wolf. What was it?”

  He met her eyes then. “I had to get us out of there, fast,” he said, his voice tight. “I couldn’t get to you until we were clear. I didn’t know how bad the hit was, and I couldn’t raise you anymore on the headset . . . I thought . . .”

  He stopped, shaking his head. Shaylah knew what he had thought. It was in his face, in the sudden tightness of his jaw. He’d thought she was dead. Just the knowledge that that disturbed him made her heart quiver in a way she’d never known. Was it possible that she wasn’t alone in this craziness, that the dizzying reaction she had to him was shared? Beneath the shell of impassive control he had had to build to survive, did he feel it, too?

  She realized she was staring at him and repeated quickly, “It’s all right; I know you had to do whatever it took. Why are you worried about it?”

  “Because,” he said grimly, “I had to use the main shuttle to do it.”

  She blinked. “The shuttle?”

  He let out a compressed breath. “It was the only thing I could think of. After the hit, I shut the ship down, all but the reactor for the ion drive and minimal life support. I wanted them to think we were dead, a sloe plum for the picking. I used the drone setup so I could run the shuttle from the con’s computer. When they started to close in, I launched it.”

  “So they’d think we were abandoning ship?”

  Wolf nodded. “I was hoping they would decide they could board and loot a dead ship anytime, and concentrate on the shuttle. If I were them, I’d want the people who’d just wiped out my fighter
force first, and I’d want them badly.”

  “And they did?”

  “They locked on to it with a tractor beam the minute it cleared the ship.” His mouth quirked. “If they’d bothered to scan it before, they would have realized there was no one aboard.”

  “And they couldn’t scan it afterward because of the interference of the tractor beam.” Shaylah’s brow furrowed in disbelief. “Are you saying they were so intent on the shuttle that they just let the Sunbird slip away?”

  “Not exactly.”

  She waited; Wolf’s mouth twisted wryly again. “Well?” she prodded.

  “When they locked on to it,” he explained after a moment, “I reversed the shuttle’s power, as if whoever was aboard was trying to resist.”

  Shaylah nodded. “A normal reaction. Futile, but normal.”

  “I know. I pushed it up to full power. On a shuttle that size, that’s a lot. I wanted them to have to use maximum tractor power to hold it.”

  “But that wouldn’t affect their other systems,” Shaylah said, puzzled. Whatever his plan had been, it had obviously worked; they were here. But she didn’t see how. “All they would have to do when they saw the Sunbird start to move was shut off the tractor and go after us.”

  “I know. So I kept her dead until they had the shuttle nearly aboard.”

  He stopped again, and a frustrated Shaylah had to prompt him once more. “And then?”

  He shrugged. “I blew it up.”

  She gaped at him. “You what?”

  “The shuttle. I blew it up.” He grimaced. “I knew you’d be angry.”

  Shaylah stared at him. “You blew up the shuttle while they had full tractor beam power on it?”

  He nodded, giving her a wary sideways look.

  “Eos,” she murmured in awe. “They must have thought they’d been hit by a fusion cannon. All that debris, in big pieces, coming in at full tractor power . . .”