Pursuit of the Guardian (Children of the Republic Book 2)

by Jason Hutt

  The gaping hole that the Guardian opened in the far side of the room beckoned to her. Reggie had sidled the Guardian as close to the opening as he could. Hannah hit the small gap at a full run and leapt into the opening. Before the hatch fully closed behind her, Reggie had the ship rocketing away from the smoking high rise.

  Hannah collapsed to her knees and the adrenalin of the moment began to fade. Blood poured from half a dozen cuts on her face. Her right arm burned from a large splinter that had pierced her coveralls and embedded in her bicep. Once in the ship’s small head, she noticed that her face was covered in a layer of small bits of burned wood and plastic that had been caked on over the sheen of sweat that coated her. With care, she used some of the ship’s dwindling water supply to wipe it all away.

  “Miss Cabot, are you all right?” Reggie’s voice came through her still active ear piece.

  “Just great, Reggie…just great,” she said. She was proud that there was only a slight tremble in her voice.

  “I’m glad to hear that. Your father never used me in that manner before.”

  “Well, you seemed to handle everything all right. I guess you were right. I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t go anywhere. I guess you were both right.”

  ***

  Max checked the shuttle’s systems; everything was in the green. Gauntlet and her team were strapped in and ready to go. He could feel her skeptical gaze boring into the back of his head. The urge to make some kind of offhand remark persisted, but so did his desire to not have her giant mechanical hands around his neck.

  Time ticked by as if they were getting sucked into a black hole. Max patched into the Phantom’s tactical system. A display on his console showed Ironheart’s ship and a few support craft. Somewhere in the heart of the Phantom, Ironheart was getting ready to do his maestro impersonation. The clock ticked down to the expected arrival of The North Star, another luxury liner. Ironheart’s little battle group sat at the jump beacon waiting to ambush the craft. This would be a quick and dirty job and keep the cruise lines guessing

  In a blink, the cruise ship appeared right on schedule and Ironheart ordered his ships into action. Max sat, waiting for the Phantom’s launch doors to open. He watched the tactical display as the Phantom’s drones swooped in on the liner’s escorts. Max noted four escorts this time instead of the usual two; but the increase in protection mattered little. After a short skirmish, all four escorts were little more than oversized chunks of debris.

  A slight vibration resonated throughout the shuttle. The Phantom fired its main mass driver. The main thrusters of the cruise ship blinked out of existence and the ship twisted ninety degrees. Max felt another vibration and a heartbeat later the bridge in the center of the ship was sheered away. All lights on the ship went out. Max gritted his teeth as several people cheered over the comm.

  Then he heard a tone in his ear; the shuttle was go to launch. The target was two kilometers ahead. The shuttle’s thrusters fired and the distance-to-target on Max’s console quickly ticked down. Max sidled the small shuttlecraft into position alongside the cruise ship. By extending his arm to the right, he commanded the ship to extend the cutting ring that would quickly bore a hole into the freighter’s cargo hold. Max put a finger to his ear as he activated the ship’s intercom.

  “We’re in position. Gauntlet, thirty seconds until we’re through,” Max said.

  The young woman gave him a thumbs-up and a maniacal smile. “Roger, Max. All right, we’ve got five minutes to complete a scan and unlatch the tanks. Trust your HUD and call out targets.”

  “Aye,” the members of her squad responded.

  A circular cutout in the freighter’s hull fell away. Gauntlet launched herself through the opening with a feral yell. A timer began counting down in the corner of Max’s vision. He blinked and fought the urge to scrape the control contacts out of his eye.

  “Status, Max,” Ironheart said.

  “Hull is cracked. Team is boarding,” Max said.

  “Very good. Keep me-”

  A Republic Navy cruiser suddenly filled Max’s view as it popped through the jump beacon’s wormhole. Max’s eyes widened and he inhaled sharply. Nobody said a word on the comm.

  The Navy cruiser broadcast a message across all comm channels. “This is Commander Akimbe of the RNS Churchill, all ships are ordered to do an immediate stand down. Failure to comply will be met with lethal force.”

  Max clenched his teeth at the sound of Akimbe’s voice. He immediately switched to a secure line with Gauntlet.

  “We’ve got trouble.”

  “I heard. We’re in access control,” Gauntlet responded.

  “How long?” Ironheart asked.

  “Two minutes.”

  “You better make it quick. This guy is trouble,” Max said.

  “You worry too much, Max,” Ironheart said, “I’ll take care of our interloper.”

  The Churchill released a barrage and a small cluster of the Phantom’s drone escorts blinked out of existence. Max watched as the Phantom released a barrage of missiles. Defensive batteries aboard the Churchill returned fire and the battle was on.

  The Phantom’s thrusters engaged trying to put some distance between it and the Churchill. Two dozen small drones vectored away from the Phantom and clouded the space between the two large ships. The Churchill unloaded its batteries into the cloud and the swirling mass rapidly shrank in number. The Republic cruiser’s defensive batteries continued to fire as the small autonomous fighter pods began strafing its hull.

  “Ironheart,” Max said, “How long until you can make a jump?”

  “I’m not leaving without my prize, Max.”

  “Discretion is the better part of valor. Akimbe is as ruthless as the come.”

  “Noted, Max. Now, if you don’t mind. I’m a little busy. Get yourself clear and I’ll collect you when I’m finished.”

  A burst of fire bloomed from the starboard side of the Churchill and quickly extinguished. Max noted four quick explosions as the Phantom’s drones met a quick end under the barrage of fire from Akimbe’s ship. Another of Ironheart’s shuttles, this one identical to the one Max was piloting, plowed into the Churchill with little effect.

  “Gauntlet, let’s go already,” Max said.

  “We’re a little bit behind schedule, Max. Standby.”

  “We don’t have time to standby. What is it?”

  “The presence of that Navy cruiser seems to have inspired a few of the passengers to try and play hero.”

  “Look, we’ve got to get moving…”

  A bright flash erupted and Max shielded his eyes. A large gash had opened on the bow of the Phantom. The massive ship’s running lights blinked off and the ship began to list.

  The Churchill started coming about.

  “What?” Gauntlet asked. “Max, what do you see? Ironheart…Captain, what’s going on out there?”

  “I don’t know that he can hear you. Do you have the hold sealed?”

  “Yes, why?” Gauntlet asked.

  “I need to punch off,” Max said. He activated the release for the small shuttle and it drifted away from the freighter. He opened the shuttle’s thrusters and headed away from the Churchill.

  “You’re a goddamn coward, Max. I’m going to hunt you down, you sonofabitch…”

  Gauntlet’s stream of invective faded into the background as Max watched the Churchill close on The North Star.

  Another order came over an open comm channel. “All aboard The North Star are ordered to lay down their arms. Anyone who does not comply will be dealt with accordingly. Boarding parties are en route. Any resistance will be me with lethal force.”

  The Republic warship pulled even with the cruise liner and began to extend docking tubes. Gauntlet and her team would be trapped, as would every other member of Ironheart’s crew that was caught in conducting the raid. They would be slaughtered.

  They deserve it, Max thought. He closed his eyes, then breathed out slowly. Hannah’s voice fl
ashed through his head, urging him to fight. He checked the distance to the cruiser and opened the throttle on his main thrusters, pulling away.

  It’s suicide, he thought, but they’re the only chance I’ve got. Max cursed and broadcast on the open channel. “Commander Akimbe,” Max said, “It’s so good to hear from you again. I was wondering if we would ever have another chance to cross paths.”

  ***

  Akimbe’s head jerked up as he heard Max’s voice. He looked over the myriad of indicators on his tactical projection.

  “Where is that transmission coming from?”

  “A small shuttlecraft, three kilometers to port.” As the comm officer spoke, the small ship turned yellow on the projection. “Looks like he’s initiated a jump cycle.”

  Akimbe furrowed his brow as he read he tactical information that appeared on his projection. The ship wasn’t the Guardian. “Shut the beacon down,” Akimbe said.

  “That’s not advisable, sir. It’ll leave us cut off.”

  “Shut it down or destroy it. Don’t let that shuttle leave this system. How long until the shuttle’s in range?”

  The firing officer looked up. “It’s too small for the rail guns, sir. We’ll have to bring it in range for the batteries.”

  “How long?”

  “Two minutes.”

  “Break off boarding operations and pursue that shuttle. That is our main objective.”

  “Sir?” The young ensign asked.

  “That man is one of the most-wanted men in the Republic. Begin pursuit!”

  ***

  Max checked the range. The Churchill was closing fast. A blinking red icon in the right corner of his vision told him the jump beacon had gone offline. “Ironheart,” Max said in the blind, “If you can hear me, I could use a hand. Christ, I hope you can hear me.”

  After several heartbeats, there was no response. Sweat beaded on Max’s brow. He needed to buy himself some time. If the Phantom really was offline, he was as good as dead. It was a safe bet that Ironheart and his crew were scrambling to recover systems.

  “Unless he’s dead,” Max muttered, “In which case I’ll be joining him soon.” Max watched the range between the two craft slowly tick down. In just a few moments, he would be at the edge of the larger ship’s firing range.

  “The hell with it,” Max said and the small shuttlecraft pivoted 180 degrees and faced its onrushing attacker. The humongous bulk of the Republic cruiser dominated his view. “Well Commander, this is the moment you’ve been waiting for. Come and get me.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Max,” Akimbe responded, “Stand down, surrender and you will live beyond this day.”

  “Not a chance,” Max said. The cruiser was within a kilometer; Max brought the little shuttle’s thrusters to full power and put the ship into a steep dive, corkscrewing away. Max slipped to starboard, banked to port, and then jerked the ship back to starboard.

  The Churchill’s batteries lit up the space around him trying to track the erratic motions of the ship but overshot by a hair. Max cut thruster speed by half and suddenly his view was filled with a rain of hellfire. He put the ship into another sharp dive and seconds later pulled up. The torrent of fire was relentless; Max was sweating from head-to-toe.

  He banked to port, rolled, and put the ship into another hard dive. Doubt crept into his mind. Had he just executed that maneuver? Did he need to cut to starboard? A glancing blow connected with the aft of the shuttle. The HUD in his contacts displayed half a dozen red warning lights that filled the edges of his view. The port thruster bank was offline and the little ship’s maneuvering capability was cut in half.

  Max’s shoulders slumped as he tried to bank to port and the ship sluggishly responded. Fire from the Churchill filled his viewport. Max took one last look at the Republic cruiser, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

  A bright light flashed across his closed eyelids and it took Max a second to register that his ship was still in one piece. He opened his eyes and saw a tremendous explosion ripping through the aft section of the Churchill. The massive ship pitched forward and its deadly lances of fire were now nowhere near Max’s little shuttle. The cruiser was coming straight for him.

  Max put the shuttle into a hard climb, clearing the tattered wreckage of the aft of the ship by mere inches as it tumbled past him. The Churchill’s thrusters weren’t recognizable. The ship continued to tumble away from him.

  “Max, are you still with us?” Ironheart’s voice broke the tense silence of the cockpit and made Max jump.

  “Yeah,” Max said, “That was close.”

  “Well, this ship isn’t called the Phantom because we painted it black,” Ironheart said, “What’s your situation?”

  “Port thrusters offline. Starboard thrusters at sixty percent. Three power cells offline.”

  “All right, sit tight. We’ll pick you up in just a minute. I think you’ve earned a drink.”

  ***

  The shuttle settled onto the deck of the Phantom’s hangar bay with a loud thunk. As it did, Max raised his shaking left hand to his face and ran through the few days’ worth of mostly gray stubble that coated his chin. He shook the hand out several times but the tremor wouldn’t stop. As if in sympathy, his right leg started tapping at a ferocious pace.

  When the shuttle hatch finally slid open, Max bolted through with intentions of heading straight for the bar. Gauntlet barred his way, towering before him with an enormous rifle slung over her shoulder. She was running her metal fingers over the scorch marks that now decorated the nose. Gauntlet let out a slow whistle. “You got lucky, you know that?” She said.

  Max nodded. “Yep.”

  She watched him as he placed his palm against his back to hide the trembling. She took a step toward him and Max rocked back on his heels.

  “I thought you were running,” she said, “Thought you’d leave us high and dry.”

  “That crossed my mind,” Max said.

  “I watched your little maneuvers after we were finally picked up. That was some stellar piloting.”

  “Thanks,” Max said, “Look, if you don’t mind I need to get a dr-”

  “You saved our skin out there. Thank you,” she said.

  Max waited for the biting remark or retort that would cut him down but Gauntlet said nothing else. She had turned her attention back to the scorch marks on the shuttle.

  “You’re welcome,” Max said, “Want to go grab a beer?”

  “Not right now,” she said, “And you can’t either. Boss wants to see you.” She turned and marched out of the hangar; Max followed along after a resigned sigh. The corridors of the Phantom were bustling with maintenance drones and crewmembers hauling tools and materials from one place to another.

  Max noted the corridor that led to his quarters. A hatch had been sealed shut with a crude sign attached. On it, someone had written in blue grease, “Vacuum.”

  “How bad is it?” Max asked.

  “Bad enough. We lost fifteen, at least. Forward section of the ship was shredded.”

  “Guess I need a new place to sleep.”

  “At least you’re not in a body bag.”

  “It’s the little things in life that you have to be thankful for.”

  Somewhere up ahead, someone screamed. The sound of sheer pain made Max’s eyes widen. “You guys get hit like this much?”

  “No,” she said. “Normally…”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Come on,” Max said, “I thought you could trust me?”

  “Just because I was wrong about you being a coward, doesn’t mean I trust you. It doesn’t matter though. Normally, we know where the Republic patrols are. I’m not sure what happened here.”

  They finally turned into the medical bay. Max immediately saw the source of the screaming. A young man sat on a table, his lower legs shredded into bloody rags. Two medical drones and a man in scrubs worked quickly to cauterize wounds. Another drone stepped forward with gleaming silve
r legs.

  “Christ,” Max said. He looked at Gauntlet and even she had paled a bit.

  “Come on,” she said in a whisper.

  They stepped through into another room and there sat Ironheart, his left arm broken and twisted in inhuman angles. Max stopped and his mouth hung open.

  Ironheart smiled. “Relax, Max. I lost my arm long ago. This is what happens when the power to your chair suddenly cuts out and you come crashing down to the floor below. It looks bad, but the neural interface has been inhibited until they get it repaired.”

  “I’m surprised you wear a skin over it,” Max said.

  “I don’t like to tip my hand at first glance. What do you know about this Akimbe? He obviously knew you.”

  Max shrugged. “He’s been chasing me across the galaxy. Infiltrated us on Maisha, hunted us to Evergreen, killed my wife, my friends. He’s not going to give up. Not sure exactly how I managed to overload his reactor, but he just radiates hate at me.”

  “I’d be surprised if we crossed paths again,” Ironheart said.

  “You don’t know this guy. I used to think the same thing, but I’m starting to think this won’t end until he’s got my head on a stick.”

  “Maybe I should give it to him,” Ironheart said.

  Max wasn’t sure what to say. “But I ju-”

  “I’m kidding, Max,” Ironheart said as a drone starting tending to his shoulder. The drone made an incision into the synthetic skin; blood welled up at the cut and started running down Ironheart’s arm. Max found it impossible not to watch. “I’m concerned though, because he showed up where we didn’t expect him and I’ve got another job we need to do. I can’t really afford to pass this one up, but now I’m short ships and short people. You can help me with one of those problems.”

  “You want my ship,” Max said, folding his arms across his chest.

  “I’ve seen what you can do with a ship that’s not yours,” Ironheart said, “I can’t wait to see what you can do with a ship you know.”