Death Drop (The D-Evolution)

by Sean Allen

  His piece spoken, Rilek turned and stared solemnly out across the bow of his ship at the deceptively harmless-looking band of rocks to port as the holodex announced an incoming message—run instructions from Leonardo Fellini. Rilek looked up at the clock: the ringer was right on time as always.

  Rilek looped a feathery arm around the thick outer ring of the wheel at the center of the bridge and gripped the serpentine adorned throttle with the other hand as the holodex began the countdown.

  “Five.”

  “Navigator, chart our course!”

  “Four.”

  “Chart our course, aye!” Nori replied.

  “Three.”

  “Gentlemen, prepare for launch!”

  “Two.”

  “Prepare for launch, aye!” Booktu and Nori barked in unison.

  “One.”

  Otto’s whiskers appeared unusually long as the acceleration of the Lodestar pulled the skin of his cheeks back toward his neck. Malo, too, was feeling the effects of the G-forces, and every inhaled breath was an anxiety-filled snort. Everyone except Rilek was strapped to his chair, and Otto was amazed at the admiral’s ability to steer the ship and stay upright as they navigated the treacherous Trinity Straits, swerving left and right, bobbing up and down as the perilous landscape demanded.

  Otto could clearly see the Ghost in front of them just off the starboard bow. He was mesmerized as the sleek Zebulon star freighter whirled and spun, darting around the boulders with spectacular ease and grace. He had heard of the physical prowess of the Mewlatai, but few ever witnessed it for themselves and lived to tell the tale, and he felt the cold shiver of apprehension creep through his skin like a million icy pins prickling his flesh. His awe quickly turned to horror as he saw a huge asteroid emerge ahead of the ship in front of them. It grew bigger and bigger, but the Ghost didn’t change direction. Larger and larger it loomed in front of the craft that was now dwarfed against a craggy backdrop of pocked, gray stone.

  An orange glint caught Otto’s eye, and he could clearly see another ship off to the right accelerating past them. The holodex identified the craft as the Argonaut as it hurtled by and drew even with the Ghost. The aggressor vessel would soon take the lead as the Zebulon was about to be crushed to dust in less than half a second.

  “No!” Rilek bellowed and Otto couldn’t tell if his outburst was urging The Ghost to initiate a life-saving maneuver or disappointment that another ship had come between him and the subject of the mission. Otto knew it was the former when Rilek’s posture slackened just a fraction as the Ghost dove below the boulder at the last second in yet another death-defying feat. He had heard the legendary stories of Rilek, but the little voice inside Otto’s head was sounding a warning. The admiral didn’t think The Ghost was the Mewlatai traitor, and he intended to prove The Ghost’s innocence—that was quite clear now—and for some reason, that made it difficult for Otto to trust the man. He glanced over at Malo, and by the look on the Moxen’s face, he could tell that he wasn’t alone.

  They skirted the asteroid that had nearly pummeled their quarry, and when the view cleared, they could see that there was a new run leader and that he wasn’t going to play nice.

  An alarm cried out as the lights danced in the bridge. “Insulator charges, Admiral—dead ahead!”

  “Magnetos, Mr. Booktu!”

  “Magnetos, aye!”

  Booktu yanked a lever on the console in front of him and large, square doors opened along the outside of the ship from bow to stern. Giant, circular magnets on mechanical arms extended from the dark chambers and flashed silver in the reflected starlight as Booktu manipulated a control stick extending from the instrument bank in front of him. Otto looked across the bow and could see the insulator charges moving quickly away from the ship: cast back into the rocky belt by opposing magnetic forces before they could attach themselves to the hull and disable the Lodestar’s electronics.

  “Captain Saraunt, status report!” Rilek ordered.

  “Magnetos deployed—all ahead full, Admiral!”

  Rilek was grateful—his wingman was still in position and unharmed—but the glowing image hovering off to his right informed him that the Berillica had been hit. He held his breath for a moment as the ship faltered and fell through the gauntlet of crushing boulders. Amazingly, the disabled hauler floated below the Straits into open space, and as it regained power, the admiral let out a sigh of relief.

  Booktu and Nori were absorbed in their duties and concentrating on the controls in front of them, quickly flipping switches, pulling levers, and pushing buttons, but Rilek, Otto, and Malo were watching attentively as The Ghost signaled to them. The ship’s wings dipped three times to the left followed by an identical gesture to the right. The message was as clear as if The Ghost had called on the com in-person: stay clear, something is going to happen.

  “I think you’re going to get a first look at the type of being The Ghost is,” Rilek said over his shoulder. Malo snorted, resolute in his hatred for The Ghost, but Otto, puzzled at Rilek’s prophetic words, stared out of the conning tower at the two ships swerving in front of them. The floating light that was Rilek’s readout appeared next to him again and showed that the Argonaut had opened fire on the craft spiraling behind it.

  Otto was beside himself as The Ghost turned his ship upside down and then jetted beneath another asteroid. Rilek accelerated and climbed higher to continue their reconnaissance. At first, all they could see was the Arogonaut. It was bigger than the average freighter, and its hooked nose and angular bulk made it look like an awkward bird unable to take to the skies; but its four enormous engines belied its odd shape and pushed it through the dark at incredible speeds.

  The Ghost was nowhere to be seen, and for an uncomfortable moment they thought the ship had been pulverized by an asteroid. There was no trace of debris or flash from an explosion—it was if the Ghost had evaporated. Astonished and confused, the crew of the Lodestar watched and wondered what would become of their mission now—perhaps this mysterious character truly was supernatural, seeping between this universe and another realm like a phantom mist. Then the ship rolled from beneath the Argonaut on the portside and three flashes erupted from its gun turret.

  Otto watched the action intently, not certain how blasting the Argonaut to bits—although he most likely deserved it for the insulator charges—would exonerate Rilek’s hero. He wanted to say something, to ask how snuffing out the entire crew of a star freighter proved The Ghost wasn’t a murdering bastard, but he thought the better of it and continued to watch. The show wasn’t over yet.

  The Ghost rolled under the lead ship again and appeared on the opposite side. Muzzle flash spat from its cannon as before, but the Zebulon didn’t roll away like it had last time. Something was wrong and showers of sparks danced across the Ghost’s skin as the Argonaut returned fire. Otto didn’t know how to feel. If the Ghost was destroyed, they wouldn’t have to face the Mewlatai in combat; the only thing left would be the much less dangerous task of taking Talfus’ body home to Waadi. However, if The Ghost died now, without shedding light on the fate of the Serum, the Dissension would still be in shambles. Otto’s sense of duty strongly hoped The Ghost would prevail. But his survival instincts favored The Ghost’s destruction. And then there was the off chance that Rilek was right—that this was a case of mistaken identity and The Ghost was innocent. Otto cast this last idea aside as ridiculous: too much evidence said this was their man, and coincidences of this magnitude just didn’t happen.

  Another brilliant flash burst from the nimble Zebulon star freighter, this time as it barrel-rolled over the top of its target. Each maneuver by The Ghost was more fantastic than the last, and Otto and Malo, never having witnessed his escapades before now, were awed and a little more than uncomfortable. Otto felt reassured when, upon arrival, Rilek announced the plan to keep their distance—he even found himself hoping they might get confirmation of The Ghost’s identity without leaving the Lodestar. But seeing the man pilot his
ship first-hand made Otto doubt even Rilek’s legendary vessel could withstand aerial combat with such a skilled adversary. Malo, too, was unnerved, not because he didn’t want to face the Mewlatai, but because he desperately hoped the confrontation wouldn’t end in the air. His destiny was to face Blangaris in mortal combat—face to face, battle hammer against Kaiten blade—and he meant to see his calling through to the end.

  Something shifted in the scene in front of them, and Rilek glanced quickly over his shoulder at Otto with a look of ‘what do you say about The Ghost now’ that was just shy of ‘I told you so.’ Otto leaned forward against his harness and peered out of the clear panes, perplexed by the sight of the three jets of blue flame burning along the Argonaut’s side and its slow but steady rise out of the Trinity Straits.

  “Those rounds could’ve easily been cannon shells or bullets,” Rilek said, turning to face forward again. “The ship will be unable to make way for a while, but they’ll regain control of their engines after the rounds run out of fuel.” Rilek paused for emphasis and Otto’s head craned upward as he watched the angling ship climb higher and higher, moving perfectly in time with the admiral’s narrative. “He let them live, Major, and he didn’t have to. The code would’ve permitted The Ghost to retaliate in kind: deadly force for deadly force.”

  Otto hung at the edge of his chair, webbed toes barely touching the floor, and stared blankly ahead. He understood now why Rilek doubted The Ghost was the Mewlatai traitor, Blangaris. A murderer as hell-bent on slaughter and revenge as the one Malo had described from their encounter on the ridge didn’t spare the lives of enemies, especially enemies who tried to kill him. He turned his head and it sagged with the weight of emotional exhaustion as he looked at Malo. The Moxen was waging his own battle, and the fight between rage and reason was playing out on his face.

  “He’s right—The Ghost can’t be the Mewlatai! It doesn’t make sense: the secret identity, the abilities, the black Zebulon—how can it NOT be him?” Otto’s thoughts were tearing him in two. This was a major blow to the Dissension. The Ghost was their only lead—a lead that Otto himself had come up with, and he was certain it would bring answers about the Serum. It had to or the universe would die. Otto had pinned all his hopes on his theory about The Ghost. Now it looked like a dead end. “Unless he’s trying to throw you off. If he knows you’re following, his good deeds could be a diabolical trick!” Otto’s mind was unrelenting.

  The Lodestar continued its pursuit as Otto’s struggle turned his stomach and writhed just below his temples. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take, and he prayed for something, anything to grant him a reprieve. As it turns out, he didn’t have to wait long for his prayers to be answered.

  “Admiral,” Nori bellowed, “the Ghost is banking off-course!”

  Rilek stiffened at the wheel. “What’s his heading, Ensign?”

  “Hard to say exactly—biggest system in that direction is Hexalon, sir!”

  It was Rilek’s turn to be torn.

  “He’s onto us, Admiral!” shouted Otto. “No real runner would steal cargo and go off course in the middle of a run—they’d never run again, not to mention the bounty put on their heads by the ringers in Trillis—it’s HIM!” Malo grunted his agreement and flexed his fists in anger.

  Rilek’s shoulders sagged slightly. He had run out of explanations—Otto was right. No runner on the level would steal cargo and make a break for a destination other than the port given in the instructions. Worse yet, without a tracking bug aboard, Rilek had no choice but to follow or run the chance of losing him in open space. But by breaking course and giving chase, there would be no doubt about his intentions, and The Ghost was a dangerous pilot. No, he couldn’t just follow. Rilek couldn’t risk losing the element of surprise—he had no choice, he had to attack first.

  Chapter 34: Strange Veil

  “Route diversion—Aurelia Blue,” the holodex said in its soft tone.

  “What the?” Dezmara zoomed the view on her screen to get a closer look. The Berillica was just getting back underway in the Straits, and the Argonaut was sitting in one place—still fighting with the Stubborn Stacy rounds—but the Aurelia Blue was definitely off course. “What the hell’s that all about?” she wondered. She tapped her controls to see what second and third place were up to, and her gut twitched a warning. They were behind her, but something was not right. Rilek was level with Dezmara’s flight path, but the Maelstrom had moved significantly higher—too high, in fact, for a run where fuel economy and charting were crucial to winning the race. The first rule of aerial combat in atmosphere was to gain a height advantage. This technique allowed ships to use a planet’s gravity to accelerate them to attack speeds quickly. Of course, a height advantage didn’t really apply in this situation—there was no up or down in space and certainly no gravity, but experienced pilots and sailors brought into the endless new frontier the tactics that had served them well on-world, and Dezmara knew old habits die hard.

  “Sy, we’re under attack!” she screamed through the com. “Prepare to return” Her voice was cut short by the sound of bullets ripping into the back end of the ship as the Maelstrom blasted away with its forward machine guns.

  CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK! The Zebulon shuddered from the impact and the warning siren and lights were coursing in unison again. “I know, dammit—I know!” Dezmara shouted as she disengaged the alarm and returned the lights to normal. The hull wasn’t breached, but it could have been. Dezmara didn’t have the time or the desire to think about what would happen if someone were unlucky enough to be inside a compartment where bullets punched through. She checked the systems to make sure all compartments were sealed and engaged the airlock door to the cockpit behind her. “This just isn’t our goddam day, Doj. Hang on!”

  She jerked the control stick back, and the Ghost streaked upward in a vertical climb and then arched over backward. Just before the apex of the loop, Dezmara rolled the ship right side up and then slammed the stick forward, screaming down on her attackers with machine guns blazing. The six big-bore weapons in the Ghost’s nose were like revolving fangs, spitting their scalding venom in streaks of red and orange as tracer rounds cut through the dark like glowing blades.

  The Maelstrom, flying slightly higher and just behind Rilek’s flagship in cover position, had broken from the formation at an intercept angle as soon as Dezmara started her maneuver. Captain Saraunt turned broadside and opened fire with all three portside gun turrets as bullets flew from the Ghost, but the move was fruitless. Before the Maelstrom’s fusillade could hit home, the elusive Zebulon passed below its line of fire, and the salvo, with no atmosphere to slow it down, sailed off to explore more closely the dark dust lanes of a young spiral galaxy burning deep amber in the distance. A spray of slugs pierced the Maelstrom’s vertical stabilizer and portside aileron, but her engines were unharmed and she gave chase.

  “Short bursts, Sy, and make ‘em count!” Dezmara said, pulling and then releasing the trigger on her control stick several times as the long top deck of the Lodestar rushed up at them with terrifying quickness. Dezmara didn’t need to tell Simon how to shoot down enemy aircraft: in addition to being a genius engineer, mechanic, and hacker, he was a skilled gunner. She heard the quick, pulsating rattle of the top turret guns, and she knew he was right there with her, giving hell to the ship on their tail.

  If it weren’t for her strong survival instinct, Dezmara’s feelings would have been severely hurt. She had flown more runs with Rilek than any other runner and, until now, she had admired his strict sense of honor. “Think he’s doing this just to win a freakin’ run or did Rilek find out you’re Human? I bet they picked up their cargo in Luxon too. Did he tip off that sonofabitch, the portmaster, and hope to split the bounty?! Goddamit, what in the hell’s goin’ on?” There was no time to think about the answers as Dezmara concentrated on the two big cannons in front of the the Lodestar’s conning tower and fired a squirt from her forward guns. Her shells slammed into the
domed, armored cover encasing the barrels, peeling back chunks of jagged metal as they stitched their way across the deck, but the hits failed to cause any mechanical damage and Rilek answered almost instantly.

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  The pinpoints of starlight outside the cockpit of the Ghost blurred and smeared across the viewing panes in a drunken collage as the ship shook violently from the concussion of cannon fire. She pulled out of her dive and killed the impact alarm before it could howl its first wounded cry, and it fell silent only to be replaced by another report. There was no siren to accompany this new bedevilment and the humble, white words flashing on Dezmara’s screen were modest in comparison to the blood-red pulsing of an impact warning. By all appearances, this was a problem that could be overlooked until they thwarted their attackers, but appearances can be misleading.

  “Gun system failure?” Dezmara read the alert out loud. “What the shit does that mean?”

  “Luv, we’ve got a big problem!” Simon crackled over the com. “Those cannon blasts ruptured the coolin’ tubes on the top turret.”

  “And?!” Dezmara clamored as she spun away from a line of tracers that arced beneath them from behind.

  “’Less we find some atmosphere to continue our little scuffle in, the gun barrels’ll be melted softer than mum’s custard pie on a hot day!”

  “Just move to the rear turret and keep firing, dammit!” Dezmara was irritated. The Maelstrom was in dogged pursuit, peppering the rear of the ship as she weaved and rolled away from Saraunt’s relentless gunfire.

  “Sorry, luv, no can do. The guns all drink from a central radiator on a closed system. Coolin’ fluids all been sucked out to space.