Star Angel: Awakening (Star Angel Book 1)

by David G. McDaniel

  On her back was exactly where she wanted to be.

  Her breath echoed in the helmet as she grunted, working to finish the hold.

  She got it.

  An unorthodox but effective shoulder lock, and once it was in she pried back with adrenaline-fueled force, hearing the Skull Boy’s hydraulics whine with a full-on effort against the resistance of the Astake. Yes! Alarms for the heat sink came on but she ignored them, straining with all her might—that effort transferred directly to the armor’s mechanics. The joints of the Astake armor—and certainly of the guy inside—should fail at any second.

  They did.

  Crick! the Astake’s metal shoulder went with a pop and she felt it come loose in her grip. She imagined the guy inside screaming.

  Quickly, staying on that elevated plane of action, she shoved him off and jumped to her feet, taking no time to savor the victory. The shock of his pain wouldn’t keep him immobile long. She found his plasma rifle laying in the street, the closest weapon, grabbed it, turned and took aim. The Astake armor writhed on the ground, grabbing its broken arm—doing an amazing job, for an expressionless machine, of conveying agony.

  WHOOOM! she blasted it right in the head, bringing an end to its pain.

  This was war, after all.

  The noise of the environment filtered back to her awareness. She turned to find Satori. Standing, several paces back, Willet on her back and looking over her shoulder, the Skull Boy helmet a blank mask. Willet, however, was stunned.

  “Extraction is on the way,” Satori broke the spell. “These coordinates.” She sent them. “Dominion is in retreat.

  “Let’s move.”

  Jess stayed close, wary for another surprise encounter, wanting to act as personal guard for Willet, to throw herself in front of any danger should it arise. Satori carried him, gun ready; Jess scanned high and low, left and right, front and back, training the Astake plasma rifle in all directions.

  But they met no more resistance. The Crucible had fallen into a rush to flee as Dominion and Venatres alike made to reach safe distance. At one point they saw a small group of Astake far away, running across a field of piping, but both groups ignored each other, continuing on their individual objectives.

  Everyone was fleeing the impending cataclysm.

  “Here!” Satori called and they moved into an open square—even as one of the Venatres ornithopters came abruptly into view over the wall, whumping in over their heads. The sky was getting busy as aircraft went airborne, making a hasty retreat, pillars of smoke from the battle lending additional drama to the scene. Almost poetically Jess found herself transfixed by it; the sky a beautiful blue, streaked with deadly black.

  It was Satori’s command ‘thopter. It landed and they hurriedly got aboard, sending Willet to the front. Darvon was there, up front, smiling in the midst of it all, happy to see Jessica safe. Satori and Jess crouched in the hold, grabbing Skull Boy-scale braces at the rear as the machine leapt into the air and hooked around, charging back over the wall with powerful thrusts of its wings.

  Surging, out over the field of battle, chaos scrolling beneath, fires burning, hulks of destroyed machines and dead soldiers dotting the ground. By now everyone that could had taken to the air. Jess searched frantically for sign of Zac.

  A pointless exercise in the chaos below.

  “Where’s Zac?” she wondered aloud, then directed her call to the pilot: “Where’s Zac? The Kazerai?”

  The pilot was clearly preoccupied with their escape, but managed: “Fighting the other one! They’re still down there!”

  Jess leaned around, craning the suit to peer out the open hold and back toward the compound. Growing anxious that Zac get to safety. Would he know what was going on?

  Could he survive a hydrogen-bomb blast?

  Their ‘thopter joined the others and soon the sky was crowded with them, beating a hasty retreat, putting distance on the carnage. Putting rapid space between them and the Crucible, which had become a ticking time bomb. No one seemed to know when it would blow.

  On they raced. Soon the walls passed completely out of view over the horizon.

  The Crucible, out of sight.

  Zac! she called to him, wishing she was psychic, wishing he could hear her warnings. Get out of there! Hoping, praying, he saw what was going on and found his way clear.

  The minutes stretched. On they flew.

  Then a flash. Just like in videos. Across the sky behind them, bright enough to polarize the optics of her suit. The blast seemed to span her entire field of vision; from ground to space, all the way left and right.

  Then it was gone.

  And there, over the horizon where the Crucible last stood, a brilliant bubble of pure heat, expanding into the sky. Ahead of it raced a shimmering field of energy; she could just make it out as it chased them, rippling across the ground, spreading from the point of the blast until it overtook them …

  WHOOOOM!

  … it slammed into the ‘thopter with a wall of force. Rocking the craft, sending its wings into an entirely different pitch.

  For a moment it seemed they would fall out of the sky.

  But the pilot got control and rode it. Jess looked out the bay at the swarm of other ‘thopters, seeing they all stayed in the air. Then the suit alarmed, telling her external temperatures were rising. She snapped her attention to the unprotected men in the cockpit. To Willet. Darvon. They grimaced, sweat beading visibly on their faces, but … it wasn’t lethal. They held.

  Then things cooled, helped by the violent air whipping in the open hold. Jess looked back to the scene of the crime.

  And there it was. Herald to any blast of that magnitude. A giant, red and black mushroom cloud, forming and curling in on itself, rising, higher, into the sky. Cloud rings blew outward, circling the monster, blotting out the afternoon sun.

  All she could think of was Zac.

  Did he hitch a ride? How could he have, if he was in a fight with Kang? But if he didn’t find a way clear, could he have survived? The Kazerai were forged in the core of that very reactor. Was there hope?

  The fiery mushroom cloud towered still higher, reaching into the sky. So high. Toward space, massive; a mountain of destruction, roiling black and red, remnant of a blast that just flattened the land with the heat of a sun.

  No, she admitted, steeling herself for the worst.

  There was no hope.

  Would there be an end to the tragedies of this journey?

  She slumped heavily against the wall in the suit.

  Zac was gone.

  CHAPTER 43: GOODBYES

  “My God.” Inside her Skull Boy armor Satori watched the fires burn on the horizon, brilliant against the tremendous black curtain of smoke blotting out that section of sky.

  The whole scene was beyond belief.

  She switched to the command channel. “Group everyone here,” she ordered. “All units.” The fleet of ornithopters began a controlled descent.

  Beside her in the hold, unmoving in her own suit of armor, crouched Jessica. The girl—hero, Satori reminded herself—hadn’t spoken since the blast. Satori herself had been too busy monitoring their retreat to try to engage her, leaving her to crouch and ponder in silence. After the shockwaves of nuclear fury the remaining Dominion defense was splitting in the other direction, further into the heart of their own territory.

  Fleeing the spectacle of their defeat.

  Satori wondered what effect this would have on Dominion command and control. The outcome of this little assault was way more than they could ever have hoped for. They’d gone to do a little surgical strike and, instead, destroyed the entire Crucible and, presumably, the Guardian Council with it. Everyone was there, by report. Unless they got out in time, they were all dead. She herself had ripped the Shogun to ribbons.

  The Shogun, the Council—everyone dead. And, no less amazing, their means for making the vaunted Kazerai was now destroyed. The Crucible itself was no more.

  And the Venatre
s had the Icon.

  She glanced at the armored lock box where she’d placed it. We’ve got the Icon. Incredible. We got it after all. Somehow, some way, Jessica got it back. Wrested it from the hands of the Dominion—maybe even literally from the Shogun himself.

  Amazing.

  Satori found her attention locked directly to the giant, faceless Skull Boy nearby. Her regard for the girl inside … what she’d done …

  Hero almost wasn’t even the right word. More like …

  Angel.

  Then, after all that, she volunteered to risk life and limb, once more, to go in after the man who risked his for her.

  Satori’s very own Willet.

  She turned her gaze up front, to the cockpit. Staring at the profile of her man. Safe.

  All thanks to one girl.

  All of it.

  And her gaze was back to the inhuman Skull Boy, crouched sadly in the hold beside her. Though she had no visual cues to go by she knew inside that dark suit of armor Jessica was crushed. She’d wanted only two things from all this: To go home, and to see her Kazerai friend again. Now, after everything, it looked as if she would get neither. After everything she’d done, after everyone she’d helped that day—ensuring victory for all—in the end Jessica was the one who lost.

  Satori looked again at the lockbox. Jessica could’ve used the Icon at any time. Could’ve done whatever one did to activate its function, using it to go back.

  Why hadn’t she? Why did she bring it to them instead?

  As the ‘thopter settled for a landing she began to feel an intense sense of obligation to their off-world savior.

  On the ground Satori rose and clunked out of the bay as the ‘thopter’s wings were still winding down. She needed to organize things, but she vowed to see to Jessica soon. Very soon. If nothing else Jessica needed moral support. The others climbed out in order, smiling and thanking her as they walked by. None had the full picture of what she’d done, none knew the full scope of it, but they knew she was responsible for what just happened in a big way. Willet in particular wanted to linger, more gratitude in his heart than he could convey, but the small crowd gave him little chance to pause, pushing him along and out onto the field. Leaving Jessica sitting in the hold. Satori debated going back for just a second, to say something, anything, but the activity was too intense, and so she allowed herself to be swept up in the commotion.

  * *

  Jess was glad for the concealing helmet.

  She didn’t want to face anyone.

  Looking out the door of the ‘thopter she watched the happy reunion between Willet and Satori. Satori pulled off her helmet and tossed it to the ground, bright red head comically tiny atop the massive Skull Boy shoulders. With her big, mechanical arms she lifted Willet to her and they kissed as the crowd around them laughed and cheered. Inside her helmet Jess managed a sad smile.

  She noticed Darvon standing beside her in the hold. He’d chosen to wait. They were alone in the ‘thopter bay.

  “Hi,” he said to her, tentative.

  “Hi,” she responded, voice echoing hollowly inside the helmet. “External comm,” she instructed, then: “Hi.” The greeting came from the PA, too loud in the close confines of the hold. It startled Darvon. This would never work. She would have to take it off. Slowly she unfastened the helmet, undid it all the way, lifted and sat it aside.

  “Hi,” she said, voice soft in the open air.

  Darvon made meaningful eye contact. “You did it,” he told her, and she knew what he meant—of course she knew exactly what he meant—and right then, in that moment, she hated her part in any of what happened.

  But there was no escaping his awe.

  When he spoke his voice was hushed with it. “You brought their evil to an end.”

  She nearly cried.

  But her expression only seemed to throw him. “You’re sad,” he said, such empathy in his tone he almost made the tears come just by saying so.

  When she didn’t respond he nodded knowingly. “The plight of angels.” Suddenly he was on the verge of tears himself, and she wondered that he still thought of her in such heavenly terms.

  Wondered, in truth, when she would ever not cry again.

  “To give their all, and yet to lose everything in the end,” he said, admiration only intensifying, “so that others might have. When all is done it’s the angels that suffer. It’s tragic.” He shook his head and she didn’t want his admiration; she didn’t want anyone’s attention; she just wanted none of this to have ever been and he was continuing quietly: “You don’t deserve it. I’d hoped, for you, it would be different.”

  Before full-on melancholy could get its grip, before he could say anything else, she leaned forward and stood. “Let’s go be with the others,” she said, hydraulic whine of the armored legs raising her to a towering height. She headed for the edge of the ‘thopter bay and stepped outside.

  Darvon followed and together they walked out onto the busy field, people everywhere, landed ‘thopters as far as the eye could see. Jess went toward Satori and Willet.

  “There she is!” Willet enthused as she clomped up in the giant suit. She stopped and stood with Satori, both of them helmetless in the Skull Boy armor. Together they towered above the mere humans crowding around; giant black metal bodies, broad shoulders and tiny human heads. Like grownups at the playground, looking down at all the smiling children.

  Everyone within earshot came closer, pushing up with congratulations. Jess tried to put on a friendly face, tried to be gracious, flattered and a little embarrassed by the praise being heaped upon her. It was more of the same emotion Darvon had been hitting her with, but in the case of these soldiers much more lighthearted, far less grave and somber. Darvon stood beside her as if her keeper, or guardian, ineffectively controlling the crowd that pushed up to convey their thanks. Never had she felt such admiration as the men and women showered her with in that moment.

  In their eyes she was a hero.

  Then, as the commotion shifted—for there were many other things demanding their attention—Willet took her giant, armored hand, led her aside and found a moment alone. He looked up at her, speaking from the heart, absolute sincerity in his eyes.

  “Thank you,” he said. She looked down at him, head feet above his. “When I went with you,” he tried to make sense of the motivations that compelled him on their adventure, “I had this insane idea it would all work out. That we would succeed. Crazy enough, we did.

  “But not because of me,” he said. “Because of you.”

  Jess wished she could just go somewhere and hide. “I only helped.”

  Willet shook his head. “We helped you. You were the one that did this. This victory is yours.”

  She had no response for his effusive gratitude and, once more, held back tears. If only everyone would stop being so thankful. She had too much to process. Too much she’d been through.

  Too much she’d lost.

  An officer jogged up and went to Satori. Jess watched his approach. Satori stood not far away, talking to a handful of the others, and Jess strained to hear what news the officer brought, for he clearly came with word of something. The stern look on his face contrasted the smiles of the revelers all around.

  Satori nodded to him, smile fading.

  Jess caught: “… the Kazerai, ma’am.

  “Kazerai? But I thought—”

  “They’re on their way here.”

  Jessica’s breathing stopped. Ears hyper-focused.

  “Wait,” the officer held up a hand as he got more info through an earpiece. “Sorry. One Kazerai.”

  Now her heart stopped.

  There was an edge to Satori’s voice: “Which one?”

  The moment stretched, ears ringing as Jess leaned forward, locked in breathless anticipation. Had Kang survived? Zac?

  Which one?

  Then …

  “The taller one, we think. Rear patrols spotted him running this way. They have eyes on him now.”
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  Unconsciously Jess stepped all the way over.

  More updates. “Confirmed.” The officer glanced at her, then looked at Satori. “It’s Horus.”

  Satori shook her head. “Not Kang?”

  “Negative. We’ve only spotted the one.”

  And Jess was running. Skin tingling, confirmation of Zac’s survival blocking out all other thought, sending her for him like a cheetah after its prey. Gone; Willet, Satori, the crowd of soldiers far behind in those first long strides, no helmet, no radio, no pause to get more info and only after she was long gone did she even bother to consider any of those things.

  She kept running. Weaving in and out of the masses of troops, the randomly landed machines of all sizes, cutting a path back the way they came. Wind howled in her ears, eyes watering as her rush turned to a fifty-mile-an-hour mechanized sprint, like sticking your head out a car window. People jumped out of the way, alarmed at the sight of the Skull Boy in full flight; such concentrated action in the midst of their celebrations, a girl’s head perched improbably atop its shoulders where a skull helmet should’ve been; hair flying wildly behind, a look of absolute determination on her face. She could feel the projection of her own grim intensity.

  She didn’t care.

  Then she was clear of the Venatres troops and out on the open plain, headed toward the wall of black smoke on the distant horizon; the smoldering remains of the Crucible. No helmet, no tactical data, no orientation, no way to communicate.

  “ZAC!” she called his name as she ran, voice lost in the rush of wind, searching her entire field of vision, left to right; sight blurry yet more keen than it had ever been. Somewhere out there he ran.

  Coming for her.

  “ZAC!” she yelled again. And, after what seemed like forever, she began to worry. She looked back. The landed Venatres fleet was now far behind. Did she pass him? Should she turn around?

  Far ahead she spotted a lone ornithopter in flight; a dark speck in the sky against the mountainous wall of smoke, high in the air over the distant field. Circling back and forth, like it was keeping an eye on something.