Another blast sounded out from the skies as a rocket rumbled into the earth not far from her. She could feel the shake of the foundations of the remaining buildings.
Aerie screamed as she scrambled, clinging to the tree with only her fingertips as it collapsed into the upheaval of dirt and rock. A blanket of rods suddenly smashed into her back. She cried out and felt her voice drown in the surrounding fury.
The excavator grasped onto the trunk of the tree and pulled.
Something warm and familiar matted her hair. Blood, she realized, as Moona squirmed in futile rebellion, trapped inside her uniform jacket. She tried to move her legs, only to realize they were caught in a pile of mud and sticks. Even her hair was getting tangled in the floppy twigs, the sodden rust, and soft buds.
“Collect the tree,” the stranger’s voice called out. “To the starboard side, rotate fifty-three degrees.”
“Fighters, Captain, coming in!”
A sense of the surreal overtook Aerie. The ghost of Captain Chainsword had come. She shifted slightly to her right, trying to get a good look at him. Only a tall shadow, crowned with a pirate’s hat, became clear in the flashes of bombs and laser strikes, surrounded by the guard of his warriors.
“Hold them off,” the captain commanded. He raised his hand, revealing his long sword, decorated with a chainsaw down its length. Energy radiated from the hilt as the chainsword ignited with power.
Aerie felt pain unleash through her as he brought down the blade, like he was cutting her heart instead of her tree.
The excavator lifted and turned again, freeing Aerie’s legs but forcing her to hold on once more as the tree was hoisted into the air. “I’m sorry, my friend,” she whispered as tears filled her eyes.
The chainsword continued to whir. Branches dropped and leaves were cut down. Other shadows joined in, and soon the tree was free from the ground that had been its home for centuries.
Aerie remained silent, weakening as her grip and adrenaline faded. Her enthusiasm, her usual gusto for battle, and even the sounds of the battle itself, faded as blood continued to pour out from the gash on her head.
After what seemed to be an eternity, the buzzing of the enemy’s swords faded.
“Contain it,” the captain ordered, “and burn the remnants and the surrounding area. Not even a seedling must remain.”
Aerie felt silence once more subdue her as the tree was packed into the shuttle. Robotic arms secured it, their straps binding her legs and torso under the layer of remaining branches. Aerie was trapped.
“Pull back,” the captain called. “Prepare for takeoff!”
As Moona moaned a small mew! from her pocket, Aerie’s survival instincts kicked in and she screamed.
But the pressure of takeoff, combined with the pain of her bleeding wound, fought against her. Aerie saw her vision blur before she slipped into the nothingness of unconscious slumber.
♦7♦
Once the capsule’s payload doors shut, Exton turned to his crew. “Get us out of here,” he shouted to Emery, who was at the controls.
Another fighter jet was making its run on the horizon.
“Launch prep,” Emery called, while her co-pilot quickly complied.
The other crewmembers buckled in after securing the Memory Tree, while Exton hurried them along. Seconds later, the capsule’s boosters fired up and they were off.
Just in time to avoid getting hit with an explosive charge.
“Activate cannons,” Exton called to his gunners. “Return fire only if necessary.”
“Yes, Captain,” came the response.
A rare feeling of relief, mingled in with the barest traces of regret, settled into Exton. He was glad when the pulsar engines roared to life and the small ship began to speed against the atmosphere.
He hadn’t been expecting such a show.
Grant Osgood was known for his frugality as much as his thoroughness. It’s almost a shame to have the man as an enemy, Exton thought. The man’s principles in economy, both in power and resources, strongly aligned with Exton’s own.
“We’re taking on heavy fire,” Emery called. “Prep for evasive maneuvers!”
But then, Osgood’s survival didn’t depend on the use of his resources the way he and his crew did.
Still, the fighter strikes, with their fission charges and raid bombs, were still more excessive than he’d anticipated. It was decidedly out of character for the URS Dictator.
As Emery swerved to avoid the last of the attacks and the capsule’s weapons pierced the last of the oncoming missiles, Exton decided the attack warranted further investigation.
“Approaching the mother ship,” Emery announced.
Was it possible that Osgood wanted to cause a scene? Or was he really frightened by the thought of Captain Chainsword’s ghost making a mockery of his nation?
“Prepare for landing.”
Something is wrong, Exton thought. He wasn’t sure what exactly, but there was something wrong.
“Setting down in three … two … one.” The small ship jolted as its landing gear made contact with the inner hangar of the Perdition.
As the other crew members unbuckled and began moving, Exton sat still, frowning at the monitor in front of him.
“What is it?” Emery asked as she came up beside him.
“Have the Capsule’s record taken up to Tactics. I want it analyzed. Something’s not right.”
“You know, it is possible you feel bad about attacking the URS out of revenge,” Emery told him. “Guilt is an appropriate response. I can see why that would feel wrong to you.”
“It’s not guilt,” Exton assured her. “I’m not sorry to tell you that, either,” he added, looking at her scrunched-up face. “The Ecclesia doesn’t approve of the attacks, and I know it, Em. Remember? I approved the measure that says you don’t have to come down with me when we go.”
“I might not approve of your actions,” Emery said, “but I still love you, Exton. You are my only brother and I want to be by your side.”
He only shrugged.
“Besides,” she added with a grin, “I’m the best pilot you have onboard the Perdition.”
Despite his concerns, Exton grinned. “Does Tyler agree with you on that?”
“Of course. We’re well aware you promoted him to Commander just to keep him busy.”
When Exton said nothing, Emery sighed. “You know,” she said, “you can always return the tree if you’re so worried about it.”
“No, we needed more water,” Exton said. “We’d been running low on new water since our last run down to see Aunt Patty. And after that, there’s nothing more fitting for this tree than a sacrificial death. Might as well be one worth remembering, don’t you think?”
“You always did like irony just a bit too much,” Emery told him as she switched off the engine and finalized the landing process. “I’m going to make my reports up in the Command Center.”
“Tell Tyler we made it just fine for me,” Exton called after her. “No nukes.”
As she rolled her eyes and hurried down the exit ramp, Exton nearly laughed, but the feeling of discontent had only sunken into him more deeply.
A voice came over the intercom system. “Captain, there’s a problem in the cargo hold of the capsule.”
“On my way,” Exton muttered as he stood up, more to himself than anyone in particular.
Is it possible something went wrong when we stole the Memory Tree? Exton wondered.
When he appeared through the entrance to the cargo hold a moment later, Exton saw the few members of the capsule crew were standing, motionless, at the base of the tree’s roots. “Hey,” he spoke up. “Are you going to move this to the Biovid for water stripping or not?”
The crewmembers visibly flinched at his voice. One crewmember stepped forward. “It’s just we were … concerned about that, Captain,” he said with a repentant gulp, pointing his finger at a small pair of shadowed eyes squinting from under the base of the trunk.<
br />
Exton sighed. He tried to recall how many years the crewmembers had been with him, and that not all of them had been around animals much before joining the ship. A moment later, he gave up; there was no point in using up all his energy for patience when he could put it into action. “It’s just a cat.”
“A cat we have not pre-screened for any bugs or insects or diseases,” another crewmember spoke up. She nodded toward the decontamination suits hanging up in the hangar. “Should we proceed to process it, sir?”
Exton reached down and let the cat sniff his fingers. “I think we’ll be okay with a simple decontamination,” he said. “No need to kill it.”
“But sir—”
“It’s just a cat,” Exton said. “Barely that, even. It looks malnourished, and in need of a bath, but I don’t see the harm in—ouch!” He snatched back his hand as the kitten’s claws slashed across his knuckles.
The kitten meowed and scampered up the tree branches. Exton jumped up to follow it, determined to grab it as his subordinates suppressed their smiles. “Come back here!” Exton called. “This is no time for games … ”
His voice faltered as the cat ceased its run and settled down on a snapped branch. As the cat snidely flicked its tail, Exton felt his breath inhale sharply.
Underneath the branch was a woman.
“What’s wrong, Captain?” the second crewmember called out.
“There’s a person up here,” he said, moving toward her. He knelt down and grasped at the branches, then snapped them off. “She’s trapped here in the tree.”
Exton pushed further in. His first impression of the woman was similar to a sprite from his books and stories as a kid; with her eyes closed, she looked just like a fairy sleeping in the crevice of the old tree. Her long red hair fanned out behind her, while her arms were limp against the trunk.
When he saw the crewmembers only glance at each other, the same surprised expression on their faces, Exton felt his anger bubble. “What are you waiting for?” he growled. “Go and retrieve a medic. See if you can get a stretcher up here for her.”
The crewmembers nodded as they hustled for the nearest exit.
“Alert my sister,” Exton called after them. “She’ll need to see to this lady’s care.” He watched as they exited the ship before going back to untangling the woman from the tree’s protection.
“What did you do to my tree?”
Great, she’s waking up, he thought as he stifled a groan. He freed her from the overlapping branches and brackets as she stirred, trying his best to pull her out of the jumbled mess.
“Ow,” she muttered. “My hair.”
“I’ll get it,” Exton muttered. “Give me a second.” He saw her hair curled around some of the smaller lichens and buds. Reaching over, he gently tugged the twigs and leaves free.
He was surprised by her hair. It seemed to have a mind of its own as he patted it down and faced its refusal. “It’s like it’s growing out of the tree instead of you,” he said, surprised to hear his thoughts said aloud as he finished breaking off the seedlings.
Exton watched in amusement as the cat took off after the broken twigs, batting at the loosened twigs with its paws.
He carefully pulled her up to a sitting position, before attempting to pick her up and put her on her feet. She stumbled as he stood her up. Instinctively, he pulled her against his chest as he steadied her.
Something inside his heart lurched uncomfortably, almost painfully, as she stood there in his arms. “It’ll be okay,” he told the woman. And himself.
The last thing he wanted to feel was guilt.
He loosened his grip and looked down at her, trying to get a good assessment. The flame-red hair was the first thing he’d noticed, and not just because of the color. With her uniform identifying her as a typical URS citizen, her long hair seemed out of place. Many soldiers and students kept their hair short, to keep it out of the way. When survival mattered most, he recalled, there was little time for extravagance.
She seemed young, too, though that could have been from her size; she was at least half a foot shorter than he was.
Through the various layers of his Captain Chainsword disguise, he could feel warmth radiating from her. Was it possible she had a fever?
“Thank you,” the woman murmured, her arms curling around him, her fragile grip reminding him she needed care.
“For what?” Exton asked, belatedly recalling he did not deserve any thanks. He was the one responsible for her being there in the first place.
The grip around his chest tightened painfully. “For freeing me,” she said, before slamming her foot down on his instep.
“Ouch!” Exton scrambled back, but her grip on his outer coat remained constant. He rolled back onto the trunk of the tree, just in time for her to land a new blow to his rib cage.
“Can you just calm down?” he muttered, trying not to let the flustered, angry harpy he found straddling him get the better of his pride as well as his power.
“Take that,” the woman cried out as she struck out again.
Exton slid to the side just in time to feel the power of her fist fly past him. “Hold on a moment,” he called, grabbing her hands. “What are you doing?”
“What I was trained to do, Captain!” The sarcastic reply forced out the last of any possible sympathy he might have thought he had for her.
His grip tightened on her hands as he rolled off the tree trunk, taking her with him. Exton managed to land on his feet, even as the woman launched several attacks against him.
“Nice.” Impressed more than annoyed, Exton attempted to block a roundhouse kick. “I guess I can rule you out as a refugee.” She caught herself before she slammed into the tree trunk after he pushed her away. “They usually aren’t strong enough to put up a fight.”
Especially considering you had no preparation or protection during takeoff, he added silently.
“It’s good to know that the ghost of Captain Chainsword has not only a body, but a brain as well,” the lady snapped, pushing back her bushel of red hair as she maintained a battle stance. “Let’s see if you can bleed, too.”
“You’re welcome to try. You certainly wouldn’t be the first Osgood underling to do so.”
Her eyes finally caught his. At the sight of her golden brown eyes, he stilled.
Her eyes were familiar and foreign all at once. The color called him to the world of his home and his youth, even as the rising fear and anger lingering behind her gaze anchored him to the present moment.
A sudden, unexpected stab of compassion sank into his heart as Emery’s earlier words came back to haunt him: We are called to protect.
It was time to change tactics, he decided grimly. Exton took a defensive stance. “Unfortunately, that would assume that I have a heart as well,” he said, giving her a mocking grin. “And that’s hardly likely. I am a pirate, after all.”
She followed him, lashing out another kick. He easily knocked it aside, but grunted as she landed another punch to his chest.
“Are you that determined to find out?” he asked.
“You destroyed my tree,” she cried. “I’ll kill you for what you’ve done!”
She’s upset about the tree? Exton frowned as he delivered a glancing blow to her shoulder. “You might be one of Osgood’s pets, but you surprise me.”
She stumbled momentarily. “Why would you be surprised that a student of the URS is trying to kill you?”
“Maybe I meant that you were more poorly trained than I’d expected.”
Another strike lashed out at him. “You have an advantage,” she accused, “of being an old man used to space travel.”
Exton almost laughed, recalling he was still in his pirate costume. “Having an advantage is supposed to be the key to survival.”
“There’s no honor in winning a fight like that,” she bit back.
“Another reason why defecting from the URS was the best decision of my life,” he told her. “When survival is the onl
y thing that matters, there is no proper place for honor—unless you consider it a victor’s prize.”
She fumbled for balance as he struck her at the hip and managed to get a hold of her, trapping her between the tree and his body. “There is no prize for being a monster,” she objected.
Exton met her eyes with his. “If I was truly a monster,” he told her slowly, softly, “I might consider you my prize.”
She stiffened underneath him while he allowed himself a second to contemplate that exact temptation.
“Maybe I should consider you a gift instead?” He grinned humorlessly. “I’ll have to thank Osgood later, when I send the URS the usual transmission following one of my victories.”
“Augh!” The anger intensified as she managed to wriggle free and lash out, landing another blow to his chest.
Exton gasped in surprise and clutched at his chest. Third time’s the charm, he thought grudgingly as his fingers brushed over the bruised area. He sucked in his breath sharply as the pain intensified.
No doubt about it. She had bruised a rib—possibly two.
Before he could rebound or retreat, he heard a distinct gasping noise. He saw the woman with the red hair and golden eyes crumple to the floor, revealing the woman behind her.
Exton nearly laughed in relief before recalling his chest pain. “Emery.”
“Exton, are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “What did you do to her?”
Emery held up the small injection tube in her hand. “Sedative.”
“Oh. Good move. Good timing, too.” Exton reclined on the floor, pulling at his costume’s overcoat.
“She managed to hurt you?” Emery put down the empty plunger in her hands and hurried over to her brother, skillfully skirting around the woman she’d just knocked out.
“So it seems,” Exton said. He placed his hand over his ribcage again, rubbing it as the pinching pain seized him. “All this pirate padding, and none of it seems to be effective against the venom of the URS.”
Emery shook her head. “I’m torn between telling you that you deserved it and wondering if I should’ve gotten something more powerful than a tranquilizer.”
The Heights of Perdition Page 6