by O. J. Lowe
On the other hand, this airbase was a danger to everyone else in the five kingdoms. Although its armaments were depleted, it could be rearmed. Rebuilt. Taking it out had to be the priority…
She saw the first wave of Dark Wind fighters buzz across the Sitting Target and she had a horrible feeling what was going to happen even before she was proved right. Criffen’s voice cut across the comms, he didn’t sound too convinced that he was doing the right thing but he was doing it anyway.
“All squadrons, move to defensive positions and attack the Dark Wind,” he said. There was an aura of regret in his voice but it held steel. Like a man who had decided to throw the consequences to the hells but still knew the fire might roast him in the end. “They picked their side. Now show them what happens to traitors. I repeat, all squadrons.”
That meant hers. Alex sighed, threw the Wolf Rose around and nosed it down out the way of a spattering of fire coming from one of the guns that they hadn’t destroyed. If Navarro and Sullivan had anything to say on the matter, they held their tongues. Good, she didn’t want to hear it. And she needed to concentrate, keep her mind on the job. Going in here, they’d be heavily outnumbered and she didn’t want to get blindsided.
Just focus on the flying, let your gunners do their jobs. Easier said than done. She had faith in them, they’d earned that much for getting her this far. They’d probably already be a fireball if not for their efforts.
“Affirmed, Admiral,” she said. “Pulling out and ready to engage.” She hid her frustration well as a flurry of more such sentiments filtered in across the comm systems from various other ships. After all the time she’d spent a prisoner on that thing, she’d been looking forward to seeing it go up in flames. “Makeshifts, let’s get them.”
All the fighters that remained converged upon her tail, it felt strange flying at the tip of the formation but at the same time she realised that she could get used to it in a big way. It wouldn’t do to get too comfortable in the role, but it’d be nice to one day hold it for real. Not just for one engagement where the admiral had had to do the best with the cards he’d been dealt out.
Too many ships, all of them a ragtag mismatch, just like before. She’d always had a theory it was what made the Dark Wind such an effective force to fight against. Some of those ships might be old but they were maintained well. And the older a ship was, the longer out of general use it probably was. Some of them had to be ten to twenty years old but their equipment and weaponry was doubtless top of the line, constantly upgraded to the best stuff. The longer it was out of use, the easier it was to forget exactly what they could do. It was easy to forget an old dog could still bite.
“Makeshifts, do not underestimate any of those crates,” she ordered. “If you do, you will die and I’ll be waiting to kick your ass in the afterlife.” It was something Wolfmeyer had said sometimes and maybe it had worked for him, but it felt wrong in her mouth, uncomfortable. They probably didn’t take her seriously with it, she decided that it had been a bad thing to do. She just hoped it wasn’t going to turn out to be an omen for the battle.
“It’s a psychic poison,” Caldwell said, looking across at Nick. He’d been sat for several long moments, the crystal in his hand as he tried to fathom out what was going wrong with it. For those moments, he’d felt it grow hot and cold as many times in as many seconds, it had vibrated and thrummed in his grasp as if trying to escape but it had never quite managed it.
“Huh?”
“The unialiv,” Caldwell said. “My dear sister designed them all from the genetics up, didn’t she? I saw some of the specs for them. She decided to take biological weaponry to a whole new playing field. That one you caught, it emits a psychic poison. When it touches you, it drains you mentally, you lose stuff slowly.” He sighed. “That’s how it disabled most of us so quickly. It’s a giant emotional leech basically.”
“Oh.” Nick said. “Nice to know when you put it that way. I just claimed a giant emotional leech. Yay.”
Brendan, still bearing a woozy look from the blow he had taken, regardless stood up straight and cleared his throat. It was a hollow sound in the echoes of the hangar. “Okay,” he said. “We’ve failed in our mission to capture or kill Claudia Coppinger. We need to get out of here alive while we still can. Back to the ship! That’s an order.”
Nick couldn’t help but notice the sense of solemnity around the group as they filed out, weapons at the ready. Just in case. They’d cocked it up, they all knew that. He should have killed her when he’d had the chance. Caldwell should have. Both should have been ready to pull the trigger on the weapons and they’d failed to do so. Now she was still out there, she’d gotten away from them and whatever happened next, it was their fault.
“You can’t think of it like that,” Caldwell said, falling in beside him. Nick jerked out of his thoughts with a start, he hadn’t seen him coming. “It’s been bugging me too. But it’s not going to be our fault.”
“Excuse me?”
“My bloody sister. She does what she does because she’s crazy. Always has been. Nuttier than squirrel shit. Look, I’m not happy that she got away. But I don’t regret not killing her. She needs help…”
“You’re not convincing me,” Nick said. He was grateful that Brendan couldn’t hear them, although Lysa and Tod Brumley looked interested by what they were saying.
“No, I’m saying that killing wasn’t the answer. It shouldn’t have been. We were never specifically given a kill order on her, it was never part of your orders or mine, take them alive unless ordered otherwise. It’s protocol, we obeyed it. We’re in the clear.”
“Apart from the knowledge that we could have stopped her and didn’t,” Nick said. “How do we live with that?”
“Guess we’re going to have to find a way,” Caldwell said. “I regret what happened in that she got away. I regret that she’s going to be out for my blood now. I regret that there’s a whole lot of trouble it’s going to cause. But you can’t change it now. Not should you be able to.”
“You’ve both killed before, right?” Tod Brumley asked. “So, what stopped you here?”
Caldwell opened his mouth to protest, Nick got in there first with a sigh. “Hot blooded kills are different to cold. The adrenaline is pumping and you can go through with it on pure emotion. To snuff someone out like that, you’ve got to look at them and think do they deserve to die for it? She probably did. But you know what. There and then, when she was defenceless, not a threat to me and I had the blaster on her, I wanted to take her in. I couldn’t pull the trigger. Probably wouldn’t have unless my life depended on it.”
He managed a weak grin. “Can we drop the subject?” Especially before someone brought the Jeremiah Blut killing up again. It wasn’t entirely the same thing and he had no desire to justify it as such.
Still, at least they found themselves in for a nice surprise as they reached the ship to take them out of this place.
“All the baddest men in the kingdoms,” Derenko said loftily. “Came across them, thought it’d be rude to leave them here to get blown up.” He managed a weak grin, stood there leaning against the side of the ship. Nick could see one of the faces at the back of the aeroship looking ruefully out the window. It wouldn’t be pleasant sharing the way back with them, restrained and secured as they may be. But at the same time, he was just glad to be out of here.
As plans went, it hadn’t been a complete success. He couldn’t consider it that way. He just couldn’t. Doubtless there’d be those who disagreed with him. It was his own opinion, not something he could really put a finger on but at the same time he felt the bitter taste of failure in his mouth. Claudia had gotten away. Wim Carson had managed to get away with her. He was no closer to his goals. And although he had sort of seen Sharon again, it wasn’t in the way that he’d have wanted. He wasn’t even sure if it was really her he’d seen or just some crazy hallucination that had gotten to him. Psychic poison Caldwell had called it. Made some sort of sense. Not much but
some. As excuses went, it was a pretty limp one and he couldn’t lean on it. He didn’t know what had happened.
Lysa was looking around at the team assembled, Aldiss and Derenko the only two out there. He could see Fagan and Noorland bustling around someone up in the ship, someone who looked in bad shape, they were being strapped down. Of course, he reasoned, it might be rough getting out of here.
“Hey, where’s Mel?” she asked suddenly. It wasn’t Harper who was strapped down, Nick noted. Too big. If he’d had to hazard a guess, based on what he’d seen from who hadn’t been there in Brendan’s squad, it had to be Wilsin. Simple process of elimination. Wilsin fit the profile.
“She didn’t make it,” Aldiss said. “I’m sorry.”
“And Agent Sullivan?” Brendan asked.
“Riding shotgun for Lieutenant Nkolou,” Leclerc said. Brendan looked like he’d been slapped at that comment, his eyes going wide with surprise.
“What?”
“Yeah, two of our pilots were being held here,” Leclerc said. “They took Sammy Regan’s albus and went out to join the battle. Crazy. But my sort of crazy.”
“It’s true, Chief,” Nick said. “I let them out the cells myself. They were caught when they took back Harvey Rocastle. Remnants of Wolf Squadron.”
Brendan snorted. “Humph, how about that.” Nick had thought he might sound more pleased about that than he did. “How’s the battle going?”
“Not good, Chief,” Leclerc said. “We were winning and then the Dark Wind showed up. They’re currently laying hammer to the capital ships. Not a good time to run for it. We won’t have any cover; we’ll be a target. They pulled all fighters off this base to go fight the Dark Wind.”
“Then I suggest you and Agent Noorland fly both rapidly and skilfully,” Brendan said. “Where’s Agent Khan?”
“Still not reported in,” Derenko said, before right on cue, a series of distant explosions rocked the station suddenly, the reverberations threatening to topple them all over. Nick had to reach out, grab something to steady himself.
“If she doesn’t in the next one hundred twenty seconds,” Brendan said grimly. “We get ready to leave. If anyone can get out of this on their own, it’s her. Either she makes it or she’s dead. Everyone aboard.”
It was getting very cosy aboard the aeroship, Nick had to note, what with the crime bosses all handcuffed to their seats in the back of the passenger area, none of them looking pleased about it. He was definitely impressed that Derenko and Aldiss’ team had managed to do it, especially considering they’d lacked the numbers that Brendan’s team had mustered. He went and sat down next to David Wilsin, the man looking like he’d seen better days. His eyes were closed, he wasn’t conscious by the looks of it and his breathing was ragged and shallow.
“Keep an eye on him,” Noorland said, moving towards the cockpit. “Don’t let him swallow his tongue. He took one hells of a beating from the big bastard. I recorded it all, be something to play at the celebrations.” He grinned weakly, not really believing what he was saying. “Hells of a damn mess huh?”
“Just a bit,” Nick said. Idly he wondered where Khan was. It wasn’t unusual tactics to turn her solely loose on the enemy in a mission like this. The woman could be chaos in the field, had a knack of surviving the odds no matter how hopeless they might be. Brumley came and sat down the other side of Wilsin.
Seats were becoming a commodity, last few frantic bits of activity were underway as Aldiss and Fagan shifted away crates of weapons away from the area where the criminals had been secured. They had a point. Last thing they needed was someone getting loose and firing a weapon in here. Brendan himself went around, checked the restraints quickly, his muffler still active so nobody could make an ID on him.
“Okay, estimated time of departure,” Noorland called back. “A few minutes’ time. Running final checks, fuel supply looks good, I’d just find something to hold onto. This is not going to be a pleasant run.”
“Get on with it!” Lysa called up towards him. “If you’re going to get us killed, at least be quick about it.”
“I love her attitude, don’t you?” Fagan quipped. “Some people are just in so much of a rush to die. Me, not so much.”
“Nobody’s dying,” Leclerc said. “Not us anyway.”
“Save it for when we’re on the ground, why won’t you?” Derenko offered pleasantly.
This was turning into chaos, exactly the sort of battle Alex had always wanted simultaneously to be both involved in and avoid. It was a strange conflict of emotion, she had to admit, she loved the thrill of rushing through the gauntlet of enemy ships, aware that all it’d take was one good shot to rip through her shields and that’d be all she knew about it, exhilaration and fear mixed in together in one draining cocktail.
They were all over her, they were starting to focus on her, but that was good. At least she had the manoeuvrability to evade their fire, unlike the dreadnoughts which had already taken a beating under their blasts. Sullivan and Navarro continued to pour fire into anything that came too close, the sound of the guns a constant loving companion by now. She’d almost forgotten a time when she couldn’t hear them, such was their song in the heat of battle. They were running hot, but the two of them couldn’t let up. The Wolf Rose had a kick to her engines but it didn’t mean she should let her take one in exchange. And it was better than flying a HAX, although not by much. For such a much larger ship, she had an excellent range of movement and she’d used it on more than one occasion to surprise someone who’d gotten on her tail.
The Dark Wind pilots were good but she’d already proven herself against them once and come out tops. Sweeping through the firestorm, she skimmed her ship along the surface of one of the dreadnoughts, rolled the ship up out of the shadow of the Wild Stallion and watched one of them explode trying to match her move for move. He failed, room to manoeuvre just too small and one of his wings clipped the hull of Criffen’s flagship and spun off into the distance. A stray laser blast took him out, superior firepower shredding through shield and ship with equal disdain. Easy target, easy kill.
I’m taking the assist for that, she thought sardonically.
“All ships,” Criffen said over the communication system. “We’ve just received word that the extraction team is ready to leave. Ensure that they make it out unscathed. Keep any enemy fighters from them. This is paramount!”
A glance at her tac-reader confirmed that he was right. An unarmed aeroship was sneaking its way out of the airbase and slowly making its way onto a flight vector. From here, it looked small and frail.
Don’t try and fly through this melee, don’t try and fly through this melee, she urged quietly. Only a suicidal idiot would try and do that without any weapons or shields. She had both, for now. She added the last part as a flurry of shots clipped her shields, causing her to frown. Upper aft fading, was the warning she got, the last thing she needed. She tapped a few buttons on her console, trying to get them back up.
Mission accomplished. That was what it felt like.
When Prideaux felt the buzz of energy suddenly close to her throat, she felt a little trickle of irritation flow through her. Not mostly because of the presence of the girl holding the blade up to her. She gave her an annoyed look, would have folded her arms impatiently had she not been aware that moving probably wouldn’t have been the best thing for her to do right now.
“What do you want?” she asked, more than a little sulkily. How dare this little bitch hold her up.
“I want out of here,” the redhead said. “I want to go home. I’ve been here too long. You’re going to get me out of here.”
Prideaux raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to, am I? And how do you propose I do that?” She supposed the genuine absence of fear was something to worry about. Not just for her, but for the girl. With a weapon like that, it was useful for intimidation. And here she was, not caring.
“Can you fly a ship?”
Prideaux nodded gently, still aware of t
he blade. “I can. But unless you’ve missed something, there’s a battle going on out there. I’m not flying out into the middle of that. There are better ways to die.”
“Look!” the girl exclaimed, letting an authoritative note slip into her voice. It hinted at obedience, threatened the notion of defiance. “I need to get out of here. You do too, I take it. Let’s help each other out.”
“What’s in it for me? Because the fact you’re trying to coerce me into helping you suggests that you can’t fly. Therefore, if you cut my head off as you’re threatening to do, you’ll be screwing yourself over first,” Prideaux said. This time she did fold her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Save the theatrics for someone who gives a shit. You don’t scare me. This place is going up any minute now, I’ve got higher worries than you. So if you want a lift, you ask me nicely.”
Big sweet smile at the girl who looked furious. Baiting her like this probably wasn’t the smartest idea but at the same time, it felt so enjoyable. Prideaux genuinely wasn’t afraid of death here. Not from the oncoming explosion, not from this child. Whatever happened would happen and nothing she would do could change that. She could tilt the odds in her favour, but ultimately her survival was already a foregone conclusion, a matter of factors that she had to consider, an array of options that should she choose wrong would be fatal for her.