Colony - Blood Kin (Colony Series Book 3)

by Gene Stiles

  In the semi-quiet of his low-rumbling engine, Kaikinos could clearly hear the savage, furious howling of the dark thing ripping through the waves toward him. A chill not born of the cold, damp haze caused him to shiver even in the warmth of his leather-clad body. He, too, had witnessed the vicious attack on the Midnight Star, saw her roll over, heard the horrifying screams echoing off the island mountains. He shuddered enough to loosen the grip of his mammoth hands on the ship’s controls – but only for a moment. He yelled out orders for battle stations, knowing full well that his First Mate was far ahead of him. To starboard, the Wind Star drew up beside him, its seventy-five foot length dwarfed by the Northern Star, and took the position closest to the shoreline. The gargantuan ship was drawing closer at incredible velocity, visible fully in the displays of his monitors. ‘What is Captain Lianas waiting for?’ he wondered. ‘What is he waiting for?’

  Captain Lianas stood steady at his helm. His First Mate, Elisson was below decks ensuring the plasma-cannons were secure and ready, the Fire Control men primed and ready for battle. From his perch, the Captain could see his crew scurrying about the main deck, Aam attaching themselves to the bulwarks, plasma rifles clamped to the rails, Izon ready to raise the sails should the wind arise. In a scant few minutes, that black vessel would pierce the murky white veil of fog and, if it did not slow its mad dash across the sea, would be upon them in mere seconds. The mist would not conceal them from ships sensors, providing no advantage against that monster. ‘That is if my little surprise,’ he thought, ‘does not work as promised.’ A grim smile barely creasing his thin lips, he ran his long, thin fingers softly over the top of the red button next to the throttle levers. ‘Let us pray to the Creator that it does work. Let us pray… or we are all dead.’

  “Northern Star,” Lianas called out over the com, “now! Now! We will let you gain headway then pull alongside! Stern maneuver, fire at will! Good luck, Captain. Good luck!”

  With one sea-weathered hand, Captain Kaikinos slammed the throttle forward so hard he felt the silver lever start to bend. His lips twisted into a snarling grin, the thunder of his pride’s heart surging up his body like the crackling of electrical current, his fear blown asunder by the winds of battle. The Northern Star reared up like a long-tooth cat, clawing at the deep blue ocean, while her back feet bunched down then leapt forward, anxious to tear into the black intruder that dared to enter her domain.

  The Wind Star easily kept pace with him, so close their wakes collided in a frothy river of turbulence. Captain Lianas felt the roiling waters between the ships hammering against his vessel. She shuddered in the wake of the Northern Star, but held steady on her course. Lianas locked the throttle in place, both of his calloused, sledgehammer hands gripping hard upon the wheel. The mist parted like flimsy curtains before the Wind Star’s bow, but all visibility was lost in the smothering fog that cloaked them. The Captain glanced to port, barely making out the phantom shape of the Northern Star. Her main deck, where so many Aam and crewmen sat at their battle stations, was completely lost.

  Lianas stared so hard at his sensor screens he felt his deep brown eyes bulging in their sockets. There it was! The demonic, hellish beast was ripping toward him at a maniacal pace, its Captain not slowing in the slightest as he neared fight position. Certainly, his own sensors must clearly show the two ships baring down upon him. ‘Why does he not slow to fire?’ Captain Lianas wondered briefly, seeing a definite advantage in the tactic.

  “Northern Star!” he yelled into the com. “Peel off now! Now! Show it your stern! Fire as you go!”

  “Yes, Commander,” was the terse reply. “Hard to port! Hard to port!” Captain Kaikinos yelled into the coms, giving the crew mere seconds to brace themselves. “Main deck, fire! Fire!” Locked safely in his battle harness at the helm, he spun the massive tiller wheel hard to port, shearing away from that enraged, black horror screaming across the calm, blue sea toward him. The leather straps of his harness, tied firmly to small holes in the helm, yanked so hard on his padded, brown leather vest he labored just to breathe.

  On deck and on the three decks below, the crewmen, wrapped in their own leather webs, swung violently at their stations. Men and women moaned and cried out as they were jerked to a stop on the end of the short tethers that kept them close to their weapons. Small gun ports were open, plasma-rifles locked in place by borithium clamps that only allowed them to pivot slightly. The starboard side crew had only seconds to fire…but many did not, their jaws dropping in soul-constricting terror at the black behemoth roaring at them. It cost them dearly.

  The exploding white sun of plasma-cannons raked the side of the turning vessel, striking a deck below the main, blinding crewman who were slow to drop their goggles and reducing a few to ash. The hull lit the fog with red-hot fires, casting flickering shadows of blue and orange into the gloom. Sonic extinguishers automatically engaged blurring the outlines of ship with ultrasonic waves, the flames dwindling into non-existence. The Aam at the stern blasted at the malevolent monstrosity that cleaved the mist with its vile touch, most of their plasma-rifles never touching their mark. There was not even time for the bright bursts of their weapons to reach that black hull. That crazed ship of death never slowed for even a heartbeat in its frenzied passing. Only the speed of the monster saved the Northern Star from complete annihilation.

  That and the stern shield. The mirror-like, highly polished borithium deflected ninety-five percent of the cannon blasts striking it, the other five percent easily absorbed by the thick metal. Captain Kaikinos whipped his hundred-fifty foot vessel hard to starboard, keeping that glowing shield in line with the raging ship, minimizing damage to his hull and crew. Unexpectedly, the plasma bolts slamming against the shield propelled the Northern Star forward like a small piece of wood tossed in the Gaia.

  The leather sling holding Captain Kaikinos snapped with the crack of a whip. He slipped on the wet deck, his feet flying from beneath him. Only his death-grip on the wheel saved his life, his legs flapping behind him like loose sails in a gale. Gathering all of his immense Aam-trained will, he drew himself slowly toward the helm, the bulging muscles of his forearms threatening to rip through the fabric of his undershirt. Once he was close enough, Kaikinos wrapped one arm through the spokes of the wheel. Fighting the warning screams of his mind, he released his other hand and grabbed furiously at the throttle lever. The mist-dampened sliver slid from his grasp as the Northern Star twisted in the ocean current, smashing the Captain onto the deck, the breath torn from his lungs. Ignoring the pain, he pulled his tree-trunk legs under him, let out a mighty moan and forced himself upright. Kaikinos held tight to the wheel spokes, attempting to keep his ship from wobbling and finally grabbed hold of the lever. With a quick, desperate jerk, he pulled it back to Stop, slowing the headlong rush of his vessel then sank to his knees on the deck, panting like an animal in heat.

  Finally able to rise, Captain Kaikinos steadied the Northern Star, raising the coms, calling for casualties and damage reports. The monstrous vessel had disappeared into the fog, gone even from the scanners, giving the Captain a few moments to assess their course and speed. Amazingly, they were almost to their rendezvous point with the Wind Star, the blast having nearly doubled their speed. He brought his engine up to half, skirting straight along the edge of the swirling mist before turning to port, softly cloaked by its milky embrace.

  A beaten and bruised Inopos, his left arm lashed to his chest, fresh blood matting red curls to his broad forehead, climbed up the ladder to the helm and snapped his heels together before the Captain. Somehow, his shining emerald eyes remained as serene as the calm waters passing beneath the bow, his back still as straight as the mainmast. His deep baritone voice rose out of a barrel chest, formal and clipped, yet holding a barely controlled anger.

  “Sir! I am glad you are well,” he rumbled. “If I may, what in the name of the Creator was that?”

  Captain Kaikinos raised one bushy eyebrow at his First Mate’s abashed break in d
ecorum, a sad touch of weak humor in his dark brown eyes. No matter the Captain’s repeated requests, Inopos never relaxed strict protocol with a superior officer in tone or verbiage. The brief battle and the ensuing affect upon the Northern Star had so obviously rattled the unflappable man his armor had cracked around the edges.

  “I have never seen a ship so malignant and sinister before,” Kaikinos said, shaking his head so hard that mist-water whipped out of his thick, black beard, “nor heard of any of its ilk. Any idea where it came from?”

  “None at all, Captain,” the First Mate responded, “but whoever commanded the vessel was either reckless or has never been in battle.” Inopos stared at the scanners for a moment then turned his emerald gaze upon the thick, wet, white fog engulfing the Northern Star. “That monstrous, savage vessel is fast – unholy fast – and it appears to be exceedingly well armed. If its Captain had but slowed and turned on us, we would be dinning at the bottom of the sea by noontime. Instead, the ship ripped onward to be lost in the fog.”

  Inopos turned, looked questionably up and Kaikinos, sea-green eyes locked with dark, mahogany eyes. “Why, Captain? And why has it not found us and sank us as it did the Midnight Star? Why, Sir, Why?”

  “I do not know, my friend.” Kaikinos ran sapling-sized fingers down his long, black, curly beard, the dark pools beneath is crinkled brow switching between displays and blinding fog. “As for finding us, the Device Captain Lianas had on board must have done its work well.”

  The Captain slowed his giant vessel to a crawl and kept a steady course deeper into the thick, white smoke surrounding him. Below on the main deck, crewmen scurried about, clearing debris, huddling around wounded comrades, the golden glow of Lending forming a warm canopy over them. Guns were reloaded, slings tightened and checked for the smallest sign of weakness. Kaikinos felt his ship and crew were safe for a little while and barked into the com. “Helmsman to the bridge! Helmsman to the bridge!”

  “Let us see how grievously our home and our brothers have been damaged,” Captain Kaikinos sighed softly as a helmsman took the bridge. He dropped a dark paw on his friend’s shoulder and looked into that bone-weary face. “Come, Inopos. You need attention as well, my friend. All we can do right now is wait on the Wind Star to arrive. Let us see to our friends.”

  “As you wish, my Captain,” Inopos replied with a curt nod and hard click of his heels. The First Mate stepped back to allow the Captain to depart first. “Let us also send a prayer to the Creator that Captain Lianas appears before the black demon does.”

  Captain Lianas had survived the Black Death, but not without severe damage and loss of life. The Wind Star sat much lower to the waterline than the black behemoth racing by. Its plasma-cannons sheared the tops off the three masts, sending a deadly rain of splintered wood, sails and riggings down on the crewmen below. The Captain slammed his hand down on the red button, cutting his harness free and throwing himself away from the helm a scant heartbeat before a broken spar split the hardwood where he had stood. The thick shaft pierced half its length through the helm deck and clean through the Mates Quarters before stopping halfway into the cargo holds below. A hapless crewman rushing to aid a fallen comrade was impaled on the spar’s sharpened tip, hanging like some ghoulish doll, deep crimson rivers covering his face and tracking down his body to be captured in a dark pool at his limp feet. Bodies, bent and broken, were dragged from beneath piles of tattered sails and a deluge of heavy, wet ropes. Most injuries were repaired with simple Lendings. The more serious were taken to the Healing Room below decks.

  Lianas moved among the rubble of the main deck, lending his incredible strength wherever needed, lifting shattered spars wrapped by the tattered remains of sails as easily as four other men. He held the massive logs high above his head until moaning crewmen were drawn from beneath the debris. Ellison, his First Mate, was below assessing damage, assigning work details and seeing to the wounded.

  Once assured that the Wind Star was seaworthy, Lianas raced back to the bridge and took over the helm. One check of the monitors revealed no trace of the dark demon chasing him, a thin smile of hope touched his thick lips. The Captain sent a silent prayer to the Creator to say it meant the Device had worked properly and the behemoth was chasing its own tail. Even as repairs continued around the ship and the wounded were taken care of, Lianas, pushed the throttles full forward in search of the Northern Star. It was imperative that he reached her before that death ship found them.

  Cronus bellowed with white-hot fury. He paced the bridge like some caged animal enraged and screaming to be free. He berated his crew in person and on coms, spitting commands into blanched faces, blaming them for the loss of his prey. His jade-green eyes blazed and crackled, surrounding him in an inferno of heat that none wished to penetrate.

  His mighty Black Death had ripped into his enemies, tearing into them with claws of white plasma, slicing their wooden decks and sails as if they were made of the thinnest veil. His fiery red mane, loose in the wind of the seas and the speed of his ship, wreathed his twisted, smiling face in a halo of animalistic ferocity. In mere moments, he would wipe those animals and their protectors from the face of His world! Cronus would once again be the savior of his People, but this time he would also give them a cleansed and beautiful world.

  Yet, all had not gone as planned and it maddened him further. In his haste to confront and destroy them, he had raced in with all the tremendous speed of his powerful vessel. In doing so, Cronus passed them by without time to engage fully, allowing them time to escape. By the time he realized this, he had buried his ship far into the enshrouding fog. With the howl of maniacal beast, he reversed one engine, keeping the other at full power. In doing so, he caused far more damage to his ship and crew than the tiny vessels could ever do.

  The Black Death spun on its stern, the prow lifting high in the smooth waters before pitching hard to starboard. Crew and cargo bounced off the walls and skidded across the interior of the ship. The plasma cannons whipped on their mounts, the crews ripped from battle slings to slam into metal and wood with bone-crushing force. The cannons on the end of the whip to port and starboard, fired as crippled hands tried desperately to hold on. They sliced into the gun ports, opening long gashes in the side of the ship. The one on the port side blasted into its sister cannons, melting them to molten slag. The Black Death lived up to its vile name, its decks reverberating with the screams and moans of the broken and dying. Half of the hapless crew on the main deck were swept overboard, sucked under by the turbulent, roiling waters beneath the ship.

  Cronus skidded across the bridge, hitting the half-walls so hard the breath was snatched from his lungs. He felt a burning, screaming pain in his left leg and knew it was broken. Moving on hate alone, he dragged himself to the dais of the helm, fighting the nausea of the spinning ship. On his knees, he barely reached the throttles, pulling back with cramped hands to bring the ship to a full stop where it rocked side to side with nauseating affect. He lay on his back for long moments, calming a corner of his mind to allow a glow that healed his broken leg. Cronus could feel the bones pull back together, the fracture sutured by the cells surrounding it.

  He pulled himself upright, using the helm for support. Dispassionately, he swept his icy gazed oved the carnage below, raising the coms for a damage report. His ship he cared about. The crew meant nothing. They could be replaced.

  Iapetus made his way around twisted bodies and twisted wreckage, coldly giving orders to toss the dead overboard without ceremony or reflection. Once he passed from their sight, survivors stared after him with disbelief and horror, tinged with more than a touch of black hatred. The seeming cold-blooded giant glided across the main deck to the stout wooden ladder that led to the helm.

  They could never be more mistaken. Iapetus felt his mind curling, agonized by doubt and distressed by his brother’s actions and hatred of the Izon. The massive man quaked inside like a shivering mountain, but his square, boulder-like countenance remained impassive,
cold and seemingly unaffected by the pain and destruction around him. With solid quietude, he climbed to the bridge, standing silently before the dark, tumulus storm in the eyes of Cronus.

  “Is she operational?” Cronus demanded, green fire dancing beneath his brow. “Are the weapons functioning? We must move! We cannot give those traitors time to escape! They must be destroyed!”

  Iapetus stood rooted like the One Tree, unshaken by his brother’s wrath or the spit that coated his sparkling, silver Enviro-Suit. He calmed his mind, pushing his worries and concern aside. “The engines are fully operational,” he replied, his deep, rumbling voice soft and quiet. “We have lost the cannons on the port side. Those to starboard are still ready to fire. The problem we have is that a full half of the crew are grievously injured, unable to man their posts.”

  Cronus spun on his heels, his muscles bunched like an animal crouched for attack. “Then get the other half to man the posts!” Iapetus stood his ground, unmoving and silent.

  Cronus slid up to Iapetus, his wide, bulky chest hard against the hard stone of his Second. The roiling, green darkness in his eyes sunk into the black pits of Iapetus, losing their affect as a stone would be lost in the depths of the sea. “I said move,” Cronus commanded with quiet, deadly menace.

  “Cronus, all damage has yet to be assessed,” Iapetus whispered. “It would be foolish to attack again without knowing our capabilities.”