Phantom Planet (Galaxy Mavericks Book 2)

by Michael La Ronn

  This was Keltie’s kind of evening—spent on a beautiful planet, closing a sale, with a cocktail in hand.

  Alistair and the two blonde twins were talking to Charsworth at a table.

  “The loan is for two trillion on a two hundred year loan with fifteen percent interest,” Alistair said, sliding a tablet to Charsworth. “Now, don’t let the amount scare you. The planet itself is actually worth five quadrillion, so you’re getting it at an incredible discount. Macalestern owns the planet, so you don’t have to deal with a buyer—huge stress reliever, trust me. But the price is what it is. We have no monthly payment expectations. The best part about choosing Macalestern is that we include planetary pollution liability insurance, waste management, and taxes in the amount of your loan. You don’t pay us a dime more.” He circled an amount. “Whatever industries you folks decide to export, five percent of every sale will go toward the loan. The more industrious you are, the faster you’ll pay it off. I always recommend tourism for starters. Imagine a ‘twilight’ hotel, if you will. Bed and breakfast on a cliff. With the composition of this planet, pairing that with a rock-based jewelry from the rocks here on Kepler would help you develop immigration as well.”

  “It’s going to take ten years to make the planet livable,” Charsworth said with a long face. “You think we have time for rocks?”

  “We’re talking at least ten years into the future, you understand,” Alistair said. “It’s not like you’re moving in tomorrow. Plus, you’ll need to get your business plan together, start consulting with our staff of professionals, and start your marketing early. It might well be fifteen years before you’re even up and running, honestly.”

  “Can we just get on with the deal already?” Charsworth asked.

  “Absolutely,” Alistair said. “But galactic regulations require me to explain this to you. This is a debt that your great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren will have to pay. Macalestern’s a family company, you know, so we take this very seriously and want you to know that.”

  “What happens if we pay off the amount early?”

  “No penalties. We just ask that you not advertise it to other planets,” Alistair said. “If everybody paid early, then we wouldn’t make any money.”

  Keltie interrupted. “But if you would like to pay early, Mr. Charsworth, we certainly aren’t going to hold it against you.” She whispered to Alistair. “Claire hasn’t registered a sale yet. Keep going.”

  Charsworth leaned over the tablet and signed with his finger.

  Keltie wanted to do a dance.

  “Great, Mr. Charsworth,” Alistair said. “And I’ll need you to sign here. And here.”

  Charsworth signed.

  “And as a testament to this deal, we’ll also need the signatures of at least ninety-nine people who intend to make the planet their primary residence. We’ll require more signatures later, but this is just to state their intent.”

  The guests lined up. Keltie wired to the other corsairs and confirmed that the guests on board the other ships were also signing the deal digitally.

  She glanced out the window. Somewhere out there, Claire was probably doing the same thing. But if all went through, Keltie would be first.

  She’d net the sale, take the cash, and she’d take Claire out to celebrate her engagement. Maybe to Regolith, a bar they used to frequent back on the star base. They’d put this silly planet battle behind them. They always did.

  The sky darkened further. A black storm cloud was gathering on the horizon. Vicious, billowing clouds formed a giant wall. She calculated the storm’s speed. They had enough time to finish up and leave the atmosphere if they needed to.

  Charsworth signed on the tablet several more times.

  “Congratulations, Mr. Charsworth,” Alistair said, consulting the screen. “My records tell me that no other sales have been registered. You’re the proud new owner of Kepler.”

  “Is the planet really ours?” Charsworth asked.

  “Of course, the sale is contingent upon a ton of things that we won’t discuss now,” Alistair said. “Financials, background checks, all the typical home stuff. But I’ve got a great group of underwriters, and I’m confident they will approve your application and we’ll be able to officially close soon. The good news is that no one else can make an offer on the planet at this point.”

  Everyone clapped and cheered. Keltie made her way through the crowd and went to shake Charsworth’s hand. He embraced her instead.

  “Great job,” he said. “I was skeptical, but this whole thing has been phenomenal, Keltie.”

  “My pleasure,” she said.

  “I think this calls for champagne!” Alistair said, popping a cork. “Who wants to write the press release?”

  Keltie’s headset chimed.

  Incoming communication from Claire Westington.

  Keltie accepted, and Claire’s voice sounded in her ear.

  “Congratulations,” Claire said. Her voice was somber.

  “Thanks,” Keltie said happily.

  “I couldn’t wrangle my clients into the corsairs fast enough,” Claire said. “Well deserved, Kel. I’m glad I lost to you.”

  “Why don’t you come onboard? We’re having a few drinks before we go back to the cruiser,” Keltie said.

  “I think I’m going to head back. Lot of planning to do for the wedding, you know?”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure,” Claire said. “Go have fun.”

  They hung up.

  Keltie drank her champagne and a rosy feeling spread throughout her. She wanted to dance. But she had to keep things somewhat business-y. She snuck out of the festivities and returned to the cockpit. The corsair was circling an ice basin that stretched for miles in all directions. The ground sparkled here and there in the dim sunlight.

  She sat down, then pulled out the cross hanging around her neck and under her blouse. She knelt and prayed, thanking God for making the sale possible and for helping her grow her relationship with Claire.

  Prayer was always important in space. It kept things in perspective for her. A lot of people forgot that and often got carried away.

  She opened her eyes, feeling at peace with herself. Her body felt light and all the tension she felt earlier was gone. She pulled out her tablet and started calculating her expenses, tallying them up on a hologram in front of her face.

  Then she looked out the window.

  The skies had gone completely black.

  Her headset beeped.

  Incoming communication from Emina Markovic.

  “Keltie, you need to get out of there,” the captain said.

  “Is it a bad storm?” Keltie asked.

  Emina’s voice crackled. “Not clouds… It’s… disturbance—get out of there.”

  “Emina, you’re cutting out. I can’t hear you very well.”

  The line went dead.

  Keltie eased into the pilot’s seat and dialed the other corsairs.

  “Hey guys, are you seeing this storm?”

  Kamala answered. “Yeah. Think we should get back up to space?”

  “I think so. Anyone else heard from Emina?”

  “No,” Kamala said. “I tried to call her. She’s not picking up.”

  Keltie studied the clouds and narrowed her eyes. The planet’s clouds should have been brown. Why would the clouds be black all of a sudden?

  She put on her helmet and turned on the intercom.

  “Hay-lo,” she said. “It’s me. Sorry to dampen the party, but we’ve got a storm that decided to cut this celebration short. I need everyone to suit up, because we’re leaving.”

  The music stopped. The guests put their helmets on. The cocktail tables descended into the floor. Everyone took their seats and put their seat belts on.

  Alistair and Charsworth entered.

  “What’s going on?” Alistair asked.

  Keltie craned her neck to see outside. “I don’t like those clouds.”

  “Freak storms,”
Alistair said, clicking his seat belt. “Nothing new. Terrible timing, though.”

  “Maybe we should take cover?” Charsworth asked.

  “Too risky,” Keltie said. “On an untreated planet, the storms can get very violent. It’s better if we wait it out on the cruiser.”

  Keltie took command of the ship and shifted to manual control. Nudging the joystick, she changed direction and turned away from the black clouds, eyeing them in the ship’s rearview camera.

  Then she saw them.

  Hundreds of red pinpoints in the storm, all reflecting off each other like the inside of a gemstone. They appeared slowly inside the blackness, like embers. But then they grew brighter.

  Eyes.

  “Oh, God,” Keltie said, accelerating the ship. The thrusters kicked in, rocketing them higher into the sky.

  “You told us the planet was devoid of life!” Charsworth screamed.

  Keltie stammered. Then she opened the communication line. “I thought there was no life on the planet!” she yelled.

  “Whatever it is, it came from the sky,” Kamala said. “The staging crew just called. They saw it form. They’re—”

  An explosion.

  Behind them, one of the corsairs erupted into a flower of flames. The black cloud extended an arm and grabbed the burning ship, sucking it inside its huge mass.

  “Kamala!” Keltie cried.

  Her heart sank.

  One by one, the corsairs fell in formation behind Keltie.

  “What do we do?” one of the pilots asked.

  Keltie pressed the distress button and radioed to the cruiser. “Emina! Can you hear me? We’ve got corsairs down!”

  Nothing.

  She tried to call again.

  Nothing.

  Alistair grabbed her shoulder. “Keltie, six o’clock!”

  The wall of eyes advanced on them, just a few feet away.

  Chapter 7

  Keltie’s palms sweated as she accelerated again. The joystick handle, smooth and glossy, was suddenly a challenge to grip.

  She neared top speed.

  In the rearview mirror, a gigantic, stick-like mass formed in the middle of the darkness. It raised into the sky.

  “It’s an arm,” she whispered.

  She rolled the corsair just in time to avoid an impact with the huge, billowing arm.

  Alistair and Charsworth gripped their seats.

  “Watch out for the arms,” Keltie said into the communication line. “It’s attacking!”

  The arm swung again, this time striking one of the other corsairs. The ship sparked and flipped out of flight, absorbed into the dark clouds.

  Keltie looked away in disgust.

  She hit top speed and the other corsairs fell into line with her. Together, they all broke the sound barrier.

  The giant wall of eyes recoiled and retreated backward.

  “Hold steady and follow me,” Keltie said into the communication line.

  Daylight enveloped the corsair.

  They were back on the sunlit side of the planet.

  The wall of clouds stopped at what seemed to be the exact division between the darkness and the light.

  “I want a refund!” Charsworth said. His face was beet red; Keltie couldn’t tell if it was from anger or fear.

  “Let’s not go that far,” Keltie said, gritting her teeth and flying upward.

  “This feels an awful lot like a bait and switch!” Charsworth said.

  “We’ll get rid of whatever these things are before you move in,” Keltie said. “But right now we’ve got other things to worry about.”

  The wall did not follow them.

  “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Alistair said, tapping on the back of her seat.

  “I’m going!” she shouted. “You’re not helping!”

  Behind them, the wall billowed in place.

  Then a strange roar emerged from deep within it—a distortion of a roar, like music being played backward at slow speed. It was both low and high-pitched, and it made Keltie’s skin raise into goosebumps.

  Someone on the communication line was just as horrified. “What the hell is that thing?”

  “Focus on getting out of here,” Keltie said. “Prepare for atmosphere exit.”

  She reached the auto-atmosphere exit button, but the wall roared again and distracted her.

  A lone corsair was flying in the midst of the storm, surrounded by eyes. It was on the verge of being swallowed.

  Claire.

  She jumped out of the pilot seat and dragged Alistair into it.

  “Kel, what are you—”

  “Shut up and fly!”

  She slid into Alistair’s seat, strapped herself in and grabbed a red, weapon control joystick.

  A camera sight descended and showed the skies in real time—just above the machine guns in the bottom of the ship.

  “You’re going to fight them all of a sudden?” Charsworth asked, surprised.

  Keltie didn’t answer. She rotated the joystick and the machine guns swiveled slowly, pointing behind the corsair.

  She aimed for the black wall just below Claire’s ship.

  She fired a symphony of bullets as long and as fast as she could fire. The bullets tore through the sky in orange streaks, spraying the black wall.

  The wall recoiled again and Claire’s corsair inched away from its smoky edge.

  Claire jumped onto the communication radio.

  “Thanks, lady,” Claire said. “I thought it was over.” Keltie could tell she had been crying. She was probably just as freaked out as Keltie was.

  “Just keep up,” Keltie said.

  She switched with Alistair, throwing him forcefully into his chair again.

  All around her, the other corsairs were enveloped in a giant ball of light as their rocket engines propelled them higher.

  Their auto-exit systems were firing.

  Keltie needed to hit her exit button—fast.

  “Do you have enough fuel, Claire?” Keltie asked.

  “I think so.”

  Keltie jammed the button and clicked her seat belt.

  Claire jammed hers at the same time, and her corsair rocketed upward with Keltie.

  “Come on,” Keltie whispered to the ship. “I’m not dying on this planet.”

  Through the window, the corsairs looked like little rockets. If it hadn’t been such a horror scene, it would have looked like a movie.

  Behind them, the wall roared again, and then it broke apart.

  “It’s breaking up,” Alistair said. “I think we’re okay!”

  Swirls of black filled the sky, full of red eyes. Like a cloud of evil locusts, they spawned in every direction.

  Upward.

  Fast.

  Toward the corsairs.

  “No,” Keltie mouthed.

  The dark lines covered the sky, blurring into arms.

  The corsair bucked.

  Something grabbed hold of it.

  “Hang on!” Keltie cried.

  She had no choice but to cut off the thrusters, hoping the sudden change in speed would confuse the creature.

  It worked.

  The creature let go. The corsair broke free and Keltie found herself flying downward. The staging settlement was below.

  “You’re going the wrong way!” Alistair said.

  She looked at the fuel gauge.

  Half-tank.

  Barely enough to get back into space.

  Above, two corsairs didn’t cut their thrusters. The arms pulled them, flinging them down toward the ground. The ships couldn’t correct themselves in time, and…

  Keltie couldn’t watch. She heard the explosions shortly after.

  “Keltie?” Claire asked softly.

  “I’m okay.”

  Claire and the other corsairs followed her.

  “We need a stretch of clear sky or it’ll grab us again!” Claire said.

  Keltie tried to think of a plan, but something struck the ship, and suddenly the sk
y spun across the windshield.

  Claire’s ship.

  The other corsairs.

  The darkened continent below.

  The sparkling ice basin.

  The sun-lit side.

  The staging settlement.

  Keltie held back vomit, tightening her grip on the joystick.

  But it was pointless.

  They were going down.

  Chapter 8

  Keltie woke up in a dazzle of fire, smoke, dizziness, and walls of white fabric.

  She couldn’t see.

  She punched the area around her, pushing the airbags aside. Dust flittered up like confetti.

  The cockpit window lay ahead of her, but she couldn’t see out.

  Her head throbbed. She must have blacked out.

  A frantic beeping sound from the dashboard… it must have woken her up.

  She blinked hard to reorient herself, but something didn’t seem right. She was still in her seat and she was facing the window, but the window was—sideways.

  The ship was lying on its side.

  She groaned. Her seat belt was still on. The corsair’s anti-gravity crash system must have worked just before the ship hit the ground, saving her from sure death.

  Her hands went down to her spacesuit, and she felt it for tears. It was still intact.

  Outside, she heard screams, coil shots, and fire crackling.

  The others.

  Keltie climbed out of her seat and stumbled onto a body—Alistair.

  He was unconscious, but breathing, surrounded by airbags.

  Her eyes immediately went to Charsworth. The man lay gasping in his seat. A huge fissure on his helmet obscured his face.

  “Get out of here,” the man grunted. “Save yourself.”

  With a cracked helmet, he would die the moment he was exposed to the atmosphere.

  Keltie took him in her arms.

  “Stay with me, Mr. Charsworth.”

  “No, it’s too late for me.”

  She remembered that there were spare helmets in the supply closet behind the salon.

  “I’ll be back,” she said. She opened the cockpit door.

  The hallway was filled with smoke.

  The salon was on fire. The smell of burning flesh made her choke.

  The cockpit filled with smoke and she shut the door quickly.

  “I told you,” Charsworth said. He reached up and grabbed Keltie’s gloved hand. “I want my refund.”