To Steal a Moon

by Erin MacMichael

  Biak stood with his arms crossed, his tall form looming over Ninta, Captain of the Shraal, who was seated at the wide, arced command console at the center of the bridge. As Warlord of the invading fleet, he could have usurped Ninta’s chair, but he had no desire to remove the talented officer from his place of command.

  No, this was where Biak most enjoyed watching his lead captain. As capable as Ninta was at handling all of the complex details of the invasion, the nobleman was at his finest when in command of his ship. Of all of the warship captains Biak could have chosen as his second-in-command from his grandfather’s vast armies, there was no doubt in his mind that he had acquired the brightest and the best.

  The warlord smiled to himself as he watched Ninta run through the protocols with officers from each of the other ships before takeoff. The gold of the captain’s wide wristbands flashed from the lighted screens as his hands moved quickly over the keypads. Biak would oversee the movements of the fleet from Ninta’s viewscreens and issue orders if he saw fit, but he fully intended to give his prized captain free rein to direct the warships through the upcoming battle as he had in most of the drills since Bálok sent them on campaign into the Pleiades.

  Adrenaline surged through Biak’s veins as he listened to Ninta rap out sharp orders to the other captains through his headset. Moving out on a raid was always a thrill and today’s work would prove exceedingly satisfying. Sweet victory and a comfortable place to sleep were less than an hour away, bringing new populations to terrorize and the completion of the second phase of his invasion, without any further help from his loathsome grandfather or the expensive use of Imperial destroyers.

  Biak closed his eyes and let his head fall back. He could already taste the heightened fear to be siphoned off of the bird people in the capitol city of Aracari. They’d had plenty of time to anticipate his arrival, which would add a fine spice to the harvest. Maybe he would even indulge his crews a bit today and allow them to go after the Maian Birdwing ships for a while after Prion’s portal was secure. They were restless for action and it would only help his cause to destroy as much of the Maian Fleet as possible each time the warships were out. Perhaps some of the starships from Alcýone would come to the Maians’ aid as they had in the first raid and he would have the pleasure of chasing them around the skies as well.

  With a supreme effort of will, Biak snapped his attention back to the screens in front of Ninta, concentrating on the game at hand.

  “We’re ready to move, Lord.”

  As Ninta’s soft words penetrated his brain, Biak realized the captain was sitting very still and had been waiting for his order for several minutes. Disgusted with his own inattention, the warlord barked out a curt command.

  “Lift off!”

  Ninta squelched the moment of discomfort from the Warlord’s odd lapse and hit the key to send out the command. The sixteen warships making the run rose from the landing field in one smooth motion.

  “Stand by to unlock the portal,” he relayed to the crew in the control room on the ground as he maneuvered the fleet slowly up to the edge of the tiny planet’s sealed energy web. The simple locking device, standard equipment for invasion purposes, would open the portal just long enough for the warships to move through and then close it up once again.

  “Disruptor ready, T’más?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Ninta glanced at the officer he had nearly killed in the last raid when the portal disruptor had malfunctioned and noted that the Ka was standing stiffly at attention next to the controls of the sophisticated device, ready to empty the vessel of blood beside him into the massive gold apparatus upon command. The man was probably terrified of being murdered today in the event the device acted up again, but since Biak had purchased a second disruptor which was now installed on Loth’s Takka, Ninta had no doubt that the raid would be quick and successful, and that a repeat of his desperate actions from the last raid would be completely unnecessary.

  “Ready to move out,” the captain directed over the interface with the other ships and ground control. “Unlock the portal.”

  One of the screens in front of him showed the air space above the ships shimmering as the energy grid shifted to allow access off the planet.

  “Shit!” Ninta hissed. Instead of the expected patrol of six Maian Birdwings, a huge mass of the elegant golden vessels was spread out in formation above the portal, apparently waiting for Biak’s fleet to emerge. At a glance, there must have been between thirty and forty ships sparkling in the thin blue light of Maia.

  “So many,” he muttered in frustration. “How did they know?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Biak rasped in the captain’s ear as he bent over his shoulder to peer at the viewscreen. “Get us out of here.”

  “Falón, direct the Shraal’s gunners,” Ninta called out to his first officer stationed at the secondary command console to the side of the bridge. “I want everyone firing when we lift through,” he ordered tersely to the warband captains. “Loth, bring the Takka behind the Shraal. The rest of you, follow my lead under the Maian formations to skim the grid. Set your systems for transport to the moon of Takahe and a secondary jump to the portal coordinates over Prion. Lock your transport controls into mine.”

  Ninta’s hands flew to enter the necessary data and commands, sending them simultaneously into the banks of the other ships linked into his console.

  “Move!”

  Clusters of Maian Birdwings were already swooping to close in on the warband when it slipped up through the unlocked portal web.

  “Seal off the portal!” Ninta barked to the team on the ground. Instantly the air shimmered behind them and the city below disappeared.

  The space above and around the sixteen dark discs was suddenly full of shining, winged vessels as well as a storm of glowing beams fired from the warband. Ninta skillfully guided the group of ships in a swift arc across the surface of Galah’s energy grid with the Birdwings right behind them. The warship fire seemed to be having no damaging effect on the enemy vessels which appeared to be deflecting the beams with some kind of shielding.

  Executing a tight hairpin turn, Ninta pulled the fleet with him around in the opposite direction. As he reached for the key that would initiate the group’s shift to Maia’s small second planet, one of the vessels in the rear of the formation disappeared. He jammed his hand down on the signal in mute frustration and the strange wobble of transfer washed through him as they pulled instantly out of Galah’s airspace.

  The primary viewscreen shifted to reveal the light golden glow of Takahe far below them and the captain let out a silent sigh. His sensors picked up six Birdwings hovering over the primary portal coordinates, poised as if daring the Drahkian fleet to come at them.

  “Who did we lose?” Biak’s flat voice rolled over his shoulder.

  “Rishál and the Issin.”

  As the captain counted down the short seconds before the next jump, he saw Biak move slightly out of the corner of his eye. “Where are they?” the warlord muttered softly the same instant the entire Maian contingent popped into view on the screen between their position and the portal. “Ah, our guests—just in time for us to leave.”

  Biak leaned on the back of the captain’s chair and lowered his head next to Ninta’s as he watched the viewscreens intently.

  “Moving out,” Ninta relayed, smoothly shifting the warships together to the coordinates above Prion, his screen changing instantly to the soft chartreuse shades of Maia’s innermost planet. He sucked in a sharp breath at the sight that met them above the portal and felt an urgent need to throw something across the room.

  At least forty Alcýoni crystalline starships hung silently in space above the small planet, waiting for them.

  Ninta cringed inwardly at the muted sound of Biak’s claws sinking deeply into the back of his chair. Instead of the raging scream he expected, a soft, angry hiss of breath escaped the warlord as they watched the Pleiadian ships spread out across the screen.

>   “Oh, they’re good,” Biak rumbled, nodding his head. “Damned good. But we’re better!”

  “Lord,” Ninta began nervously, “we can’t take on that many—the Maian Fleet will join them any second.” He shifted a second viewscreen to scan the airspace above their position just as the forty-some odd Birdwings appeared together and began to move toward them, effectively sandwiching the warband between the two Pleiadian forces. The Alcýoni Fleet remained in position below and waited, blocking them from their prize.

  “I want Prion. Get us through the portal, Ninta. Do it.” The warlord stepped back and leaned against the rail, just out of the captain’s peripheral vision.

  Alarmed, Ninta had no choice but to grip the reins firmly and make the most of the situation. His mind raced through past battles in which the odds had been decidedly unfavorable, weighing the outcome of several possible strategies. He had precious little time before the enemy ships began picking them off, one by one. It was imperative to keep them all together—if he allowed their smaller number to become separated, they were as good as dead.

  “Keep your navigation systems keyed into mine. Pull into the formation I send you and maintain your positions!” he ordered the fourteen other ships, his hands flying quickly over the keys to enter the data necessary to implement the maneuvers he had in mind.

  “I want a barrage of fire as we sweep—all of you!” Ninta grated across the relay. “Don’t stop until ordered! Falón, I’m locking the fleet into a wedge behind the Shraal. Keep your eyes on both of the flank screens and keep me informed.”

  “Yes, Captain!”

  Ninta scanned his own set of screens. The cloud of Birdwings had broken into clusters which were descending and spreading out to surround them. He swore under his breath, searching the oncoming ships for the densest concentration of shining gold within his view.

  “Move out! Open fire!” he shouted across the channels to the fleet. Punching in the last of his commands, Ninta launched the Shraal out away from the warband, giving the rest of the captains the few seconds needed to maneuver into a tight wedge behind him before pulling the group around and shooting straight up into the heart of the Birdwing contingent.

  The blinding emissions from the discharging weapons flashed across the viewscreens as the Shraal cut a swath through the smaller ships. Shooting out the far side of the Maian ranks, Ninta quickly looped the group out and around to position them for another attack.

  “Anyone on our tail, Falón?”

  “No, sir. They appear completely stunned.”

  “Good,” Ninta murmured as he initiated his next move. Choosing another portion of the quickly recovering Birdwing forces, he took the fleet bolting back among the golden ships, keeping the course haphazard and erratic, the constant stream of fire flinging the Maian vessels into complete disarray as they moved to avoid collision.

  “Captain, six Maian ships are coming in on our right flank behind the Judál,” Falón called out.

  “Alright, I see them,” Ninta replied. His hands moved rapidly over his controls. “Drop, on my mark!” he shouted across the channels as he sent out the increment he wanted and keyed the commands into the Shraal’s navigation system.

  “Now!” The Shraal abruptly plunged in altitude straight down toward the planet, followed closely by the other fourteen discs, dropping sharply to the space just above the bank of hovering Alcýoni vessels.

  “Falón, the Judál?” he barked.

  “Still with us, Captain.”

  “Keep up your fire,” he snapped over the link as he pulled the wedge forward and angled the blasting fleet down toward the spread of crystalline ships. Instead of scattering, the Alcýoni starships maintained their positions as the warband closed the distance to the closest vessel. The Shraal lurched violently as the warship hit an invisible web of energy, deflecting it back away from the targeted ship as well as the planet.

  “Fuck!” Ninta thundered as he frantically pulled the ship into a steady course above the unseen blanket of energy. “They’ve got some kind of shielding running between their ships.” He dipped the Shraal down once more, testing the perimeter of the Alcýoni shield as he raced across the area of space just above their hovering line.

  “Another Maian cluster is approaching from above, charging for the left wing,” Falón shouted.

  “And two more who think they’re going to cut us off up ahead,” Ninta murmured, watching his screens carefully while keying in new coordinates.

  “Stay with me!” he commanded sharply across the link. With a final punch, he abruptly pulled the warships up, angling the band out away from the planet in a smooth arc, giving the impression of hasty withdrawal. “Hold your fire,” he growled as they soared out beyond the range of shifting Maian vessels.

  “T’más, activate the disruptor.”

  The officer next to the massive device across the room jumped to comply and lifted the large vessel of blood over the top of the outer covering to pour it into the hidden mechanism. A bright glow rose from the space behind the shield to reflect off the ceiling while T’más hurried to the console to adjust the controls.

  “Loth, fire up your disruptor and stand by,” Ninta directed over the open channel. If the device on the Shraal malfunctioned again, at least the Takka could lead the rest of the warband through and claim the planet for Overlord Bálok.

  “All is in order, Captain!” T’más responded sharply moments before the same acknowledgment came through Ninta’s headset from the Takka.

  “Captain, vessels are closing in on both flanks,” Falón called out nervously.

  “Let them come,” Ninta murmured, keying in another set of commands and initiating a new course.

  “Tighten the wedge as I pull us around—we’re going in!” he roared over the com. In one swift movement, he drew the Shraal into a hairpin turn and shot down like a bullet through the heart of the Maian clusters and on toward the Alcýoni formation, pulling the warband behind him in a long, sleek tail.

  The disruptor flashed wildly, momentarily blinding everyone on the bridge as the warship pierced straight through the Alcýoni shield. They hit the planet’s grid with the force of a blazing comet. Without the huge mass of activated gold contained in the device, the fifteen warships would have exploded into millions of pieces on impact with Prion’s locked energy matrix. Instead, the webs melted around the Shraal as if a giant white-hot iron seared through them, parting the way for the ships behind it.

  Ninta tensely watched his screens. As soon as the last ship was through the sliced portal, he shrieked, “Reset, NOW!”

  T’mas hit the controls which shifted the device into its secondary function. The flashing above the shield wall became a frenzied pattern of pulses, dancing and bursting for several seconds before smoothing itself into one bright, constant glow. The portal webs had been rewoven with a new matrix, effectively sealing off the planet’s gridwork from anyone who didn’t have the keys to get through.

  “Portal is locked, Captain!” T’mas confirmed in a loud, adamant voice.

  “Yessss!” Ninta hissed. “Transfer the new patterns into one of the portal locks to be set up for ground control.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Ninta pulled the fleet out of the nosedive toward the surface and brought it into an easy glide above the swirl of deep greens running across the heavily forested continent below. Shifting one of his screens to scan the space just below the portal, he found that none of the enemy vessels had managed to follow his surprise blast through the locks. The warships were blessedly alone and Prion was theirs.

  The captain slumped forward in his chair for a moment as his body began to shake uncontrollably. He was struggling to regain his composure when Biak’s face appeared right beside his, sending another shock through his overtaxed system.

  “Well done, Ninta. I’m most impressed. Taking an entire planet within minutes when you’re outnumbered five to one— your reputation is well deserved. You’ll be rewarded for this.”

/>   The praise from Bálok’s unpredictable grandson made the captain almost as nervous as the fleet maneuvers had. Ninta inclined his head in subservient acknowledgment of Biak’s words and bent over his console with trembling hands to start the next phase of the planet takeover.

  Directly below lay the sparkling capitol of Aracari, built around the graceful curve of a wide bay on the eastern coast of the primary continent. White breakers along the shoreline, barely visible from their high altitude, created the only discernable movement within the serene setting spread out across the captain’s screens.

  As the warband descended, the features of the Maian bird city came into sharp focus. Large open pads of the capitol’s landing fields lay to the northwest of the sprawling urban core. Ninta guided the fifteen ships into a wide, slow arc across the city to take initial bearings.

  “Do you wish for me to set up a hover formation to land the transports, Lord?”

  “Oh, yes. The first wave of terror our pets inspire is always the richest,” Biak’s voice preened, too close again to Ninta’s ear for comfort. “Take five ships with us to the landing pads and spread the rest out over the city. Skeleton crews to remain on board. Everyone else may go down to feast.”

  “As you wish, Lord.” Ninta sent out the orders and assigned positions over Aracari to begin the offload of saur transports. Guiding the smaller group of six warships westward over the city and across the wide open landing fields, he brought them all down near the edge of the pavement within minutes. He glanced at the screen showing the portal center buildings adjacent to the pad where he had maneuvered the Shraal and wondered idly if the rooms of the bird people would be large enough to accommodate them.

  Rising from the command console, Ninta turned as Biak stalked past him, heading toward the private lift outside the bridge in order to disembark.