“Intruder alert. Attention Blue Stars. Several Skarak soldiers have escaped the settlement and have landed on the Resolute’s outer hull. They are cutting their way in. Blue Star teams to the drive room and command deck. Stand by to repel boarders.”
Boyd looked up at Sergeant Dorik. His old friend had a strange, vacant look on his face, like he was somewhere else, but then life came back to his eyes and he turned them on Boyd with one last bitter, fierce glare.
“I will watch you swing, old friend, and that little Faction floozy too—if she survives long enough to see the noose. There are a lot of hungry, lonely Blue Star Marines on board that might like to take turns to get to know your little friend. Maybe it’s not you she likes, Will, maybe she just likes the Blue Star on your tunic. Well, we can all give her plenty of those.”
Dorik snarled at Boyd but then his expression went blank again, emotion draining from his face to be replaced by a vacant, distant stare. He turned on his heel and marched out of the brig, leaving Boyd on his cold bunk in the tiny cell.
“This is Featherstone. Skarak soldiers are entering the drive room. Confirmed there are four Skarak soldiers on board. All hands be ready to repel boarders.”
Boyd sat back on his bunk. Time seemed to drag and race simultaneously. He heard the distant shouts of Marines running along the corridors. A small group of Skarak soldiers could pose no serious threat to the Resolute, but should they interfere with essential systems, they could make the ship vulnerable to any other Skarak ships in the area.
Boyd felt increasingly frustrated sitting behind this containment field while his old Marine brothers fought off the Skarak boarding party. He knew he wanted to be among them, fighting alongside them, securing the Resolute from the invaders.
He looked around the brig—it was small and plain and dark. He didn’t know this corner of the Resolute very well—it was the first time he’d ever sat on one of these cold bunks—but he knew this ship like the back of his hand. He knew exactly how long it would take the squad to assemble and counter the Skarak invaders. He knew exactly where the Blue Stars in the drive room would position themselves to repel an enemy intruder and protect the Resolute’s power systems. The drive room was possibly the most important part of the ship. The reactors gave power to all the ship systems—to the drive system that could move the Resolute around the system so it could deploy its Marines, the defensive systems comprising both hull stability and deflection shielding, and it provided all the energy for the ship’s weaponry.
The Blue Stars would defend the drive room vigorously and aggressively. There was no way, he thought, a few Skarak would have any effect on the ship’s power systems.
Then the lights went out.
The darkness was accompanied by sudden quiet as all ship systems stopped. Although they were never really loud, they were recognizable now by their absence. Boyd blinked in the darkness. Shouts came from a long corridor outside the brig. A flash of a pulse round, or maybe it was an electron bayonet, flickered momentarily over the dark composite.
After a moment, Boyd realized that the containment field covering his cell was no longer receiving power. He stood up off his bunk and stepped out of the cell. He took cover at the edge of the opening to the brig and listened to the sounds deep in the Resolute. The corridor abruptly lit with a blue crackling light. A Marine backed up along the corridor across the opening to the brig. He was firing his pulse rifle as he moved, screaming into the darkness, and then a blue beam struck him in the chest. The flickering lines thinned and turned white as they rippled over his convulsing body. He dropped to his knees. Boyd reached out and grabbed the rifle as the flickering white lines faded.
The instant Boyd grabbed the rifle, those lines wrapped around his fingers. Boyd was suddenly transported back to the feeling he’d had the first time he heard the voice of the Skarak in the darkness telling him to turn on his own kind. It had been during his first encounter with the Skarak, when he had been investigating a crashed ship as part of a Faction pirate crew. The Skarak had taken control of the minds of his entire party, but Boyd had been far too focused on his main objective—staying hidden undercover in the Faction, finding Kitzov, and bringing him to justice—and it had saved him.
Boyd had narrowly avoided the Skarak mind control once before and the feeling of the blue crackle fire on his hand reminded him of how close he had once come to becoming one of their mindless, lifeless slaves.
Boyd snatched the pulse rifle, broke cover, and took aim along the corridor. The Skarak soldier, alone in the darkness, was walking toward him. The Skarak took a pulse round to the chest, its insect arms flailing as the round struck. Boyd fired again, keeping close to cover. The Skarak soldier fell to the barrage. Its multi-jointed arms and legs twitched briefly before falling still.
With the Skarak soldier down, Boyd made his way to the drive room. He was still a Blue Star Marine, whatever anyone thought of him. He was still a member of this crew, and this was still his ship. He would be blasted into the void before he let the Skarak take control of the Resolute.
He knew this ship and could run the corridors blindfolded. He turned a corner and found himself in the central corridor leading directly to the drive room. Then the lights came on. Boyd slowed his stride and lifted his hands to shield his eyes. He tripped over something in the corridor. He stumbled and got back to his feet. He looked back to see what he had tripped over.
Staring up at him from the deck was Major Featherstone. His eyes were wide open, but Boyd was sure he was not conscious. Boyd knelt next to the major and checked his breathing. A shallow rasping breath was all the major could manage. Boyd looked back along the corridor. There was no evidence of any crackle fire weapons having been discharged in this section so close to the command deck.
The siren sounded for the all-clear, and a voice came over the speakers, “All clear. All Skarak down. Resolute is secure. Repeat, Resolute is secure.”
Boyd looked down at Featherstone. The major was moving his lips feebly. Boyd moved his head closer to hear. As he placed his hand on the deck, he felt the blood. The major was bleeding from a wound in his back.
“Sergeant,” Featherstone said weakly.
“Yes, sir, it’s me. Sergeant Boyd. I’ll get Doc Cronin up here right away.”
Featherstone shook his head weakly. “Sergeant Dorik.”
“You want Dorik?” Boyd asked.
The major closed his eyes and opened them again, a movement Boyd took to be filled with meaning. The major meant ‘no.’ The major was frustrated. The major wanted Boyd to listen more closely. Boyd moved closer.
“Dorik. Killed. Me. Stabbed. Back.”
The major quivered, his eyes closed, and his body went limp. Boyd knew the life had slipped away from the major. He had clung on long enough to name his killer so that justice could be done. Boyd felt his heart sink and anger rise. The major had been the best officer Boyd had ever served under and his passing was a huge blow.
The sound of boots far along the corridor caught Boyd’s attention. He looked and saw a fire team rushing toward him.
“It’s the prisoner,” one of them yelled. “He’s killed the major!”
Boyd grabbed the major’s wrist-mounted holo-stage and pulled it free. Then he grabbed his pulse rifle and got up off the deck. He ducked into a side corridor.
As Boyd ran, he tapped into the major’s holo-stage for the location of Sergeant Dorik. He was one deck down and a few sections forward in the main communication hub. Boyd pushed himself to run faster, the sound of Blue Star boots behind him.
Bursting into the communication hub, Boyd saw Dorik kneeling on the chest of Jim Hemel, the Resolute’s pilot. Dorik was pounding his fists across Hemel’s head. Wild rage utterly consumed Dorik. He looked at Boyd with a frenzied snarl and pulled an electron blade from his boot. He activated it and lifted it up, ready to stab Hemel.
With no time to take proper aim, Boyd fired a single pulse round that slammed into Dorik’s wrist. The electr
on blade fell, plunging into the deck just centimeters from Hemel’s battered face.
The Blue Star Marines chasing Boyd came into the communications hub. One gripped Boyd around the legs and tackled him to the floor in Curveball defense style. The second stood over Boyd, his pulse rifle aimed down at him. The third and fourth filled the doorway, their rifles ready, still warm from fighting off the Skarak.
“Watch out for Sergeant Dorik,” Boyd said. But no sooner had he said it than Dorik was on his feet, snatching up the electron blade and rushing at the Marines. He slashed in a wide arc and the blade and took out the throat of the Blue Star standing over Boyd. The other two raised their rifles, but shock stayed their trigger fingers. With the Marine holding Boyd distracted by the attack, Boyd was able to wrestle himself free. He stood up and gripped Dorik around the back, his forearm around Dorik’s throat. Boyd pulled the frenzied Sergeant backward.
“He killed the major,” Boyd said. “Major Featherstone told me with his dying words. And now he is beating Hemel to death.”
“You are the prisoner,” one said.
Dorik growled and punched back with his elbow into Boyd’s ribs. Boyd firmly held on to Dorik, not letting his grip slacken for a moment, sure that Dorik was determined to kill them all. “You are Blue Star Marines. You are the elite. Think it through. Look at the sergeant. He is not in his right mind.”
Boyd fell backward, tripping over the Marine on the floor. As he fell, Dorik’s head struck the corner of a communications console. Blood erupted from Dorik’s head and sprayed onto Boyd’s face. He looked up at the Marines all staring at him in disbelief and confusion. Boyd felt Dorik go limp. He released his grip and crawled over to Hemel.
“Get over here with a med-pack!” Boyd shouted. He looked down at Jim Hemel, cuts and bruises all over his battered face—but he was alive.
One of the Marines stepped over and handed Boyd a med-pack. Boyd snatched it and applied it to the side of Hemel’s head.
“Jim, it’s Will Boyd. Can you hear me?”
“Sergeant Dorik,” Hemel said, blinking and looking up at Boyd.
Boyd looked over and saw Dorik, limp and lifeless. One of the Marines was trying to apply a pack, but the tendrils would not take. It was a sure sign that Dorik was dead.
“He’s gone.” Boyd said.
Hemel nodded in satisfaction. “He killed the major,” Hemel said.
“I know,” Boyd said. “Why?”
“We were on the command deck. I was trying to work out what Yanic Knole had been working on before he was murdered.”
“Take it easy,” Boyd said.
Hemel shook his head and sat up. “I found out that Knole had discovered a Skarak communication field spanning across the Scorpio System. All the hidden locations are linked and feeding back to one outer system location. It looks like Knole found the location of the Skarak home world. The major brought me down here to send the information to tactical intelligence. But on the way down, Dorik attacked us. He stabbed the major in the back and then dragged me down here. I think he wanted me to delete all the information.”
“Just take it easy, Jim,” Boyd said.
Hemel raised his right hand and steadily pointed at one of the communication consoles.
“Send it, Will. Send it.”
Boyd stood and walked to the console, looking at the display. A file was waiting to be transmitted. The preview showed it was a map of all Skarak locations in the system and the connections between them and an outer system location, several star systems away.
Boyd input the destination for the communication as tactical intelligence with priority one from the Resolute.
“How do you stop a flowing Curveball attack?” Boyd looked over at the Marines still looking at him suspiciously. “You cut it off at the source. You stop it before it can begin. Now that we have the location of the Skarak home world, we can stop their attacks into the Scorpio System.” Boyd looked down at Sergeant Dorik. “We can stop them from doing this to our people.”
Boyd looked down at Jim Hemel, breathing heavily and eyes closed, then back to the Marines. “Get Jim down to the med-bay.”
One of the Marines pointed his pistol at Boyd. “You are a prisoner, Sergeant Boyd. I can’t let you go.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Boyd said. “I’m staying aboard the Resolute. The Skarak did everything they could to stop us from getting this information. They are vulnerable. But we need to act fast. Stay with me if it makes you feel better, keep the pulse rifle in my back if you must, but I am a Blue Star Marine sergeant and it is my duty is to protect this system, and that is exactly what I intend to do. Now, there is someone I need to see.”
Boyd walked out of the communications hub and back toward the brig.
16
Boyd stepped into the brig. Behind the fizzing containment field was Thresh. She was standing, her hands strapped at the wrists and suspended from a beam in the ceiling of the small cell. Her head tipped forward, hair tumbling down.
A guard stood up and saluted Boyd before he recognized the sergeant.
“I thought you were in the brig, Sarge,” the Marine said.
“I’m out,” Boyd said. “Sergeant Dorik killed the major. Now Dorik is dead too. Prisoner or not, I’m the senior Blue Star on board.”
On hearing his voice, Thresh lifted her head and looked through the shimmering containment field. She looked strong and defiant.
Boyd stepped over to the power control panel.
“You can’t touch that, Sarge,” the guard said, stepping forward to put himself between Boyd and the containment field control panel.
Boyd ignored the Marine and pressed past him to deactivate the field.
“I need to talk to the prisoner, and I can’t do it like this.” Boyd stepped into the little cell and lifted Thresh’s hands, releasing them from the beam.
She let out a sigh of relief and let her arms drop down, wrists still bound. She sat down on the bunk, hands in her lap, and looked up at Boyd.
Boyd pulled an electron blade and cut her bindings. She held Boyd in her gaze and rubbed her wrists, smoothing away the pain.
“Are you here to kill me yourself, Will?” Thresh said.
Boyd sat next to Thresh on the small bunk. He held his hands together, fingers interlaced and resting on his knees. He looked sideways at her.
“Sometimes we do things we don’t want to do… Sometimes people make us do things we don’t want to do. And sometimes we should be forgiven.”
Thresh watched him, wiping hair from the side of her face and tucking it behind her ear.
“Kitzov was an inspiration to us all,” she said. “He made us believe we were worth more than a desperate existence on the fringes of society. So many of us were forgotten and ignored by the Union. Kitzov brought us together. He gave us self-belief. I grew up surrounded by people who would do anything, give their lives, do anything at all for Kitzov. And the man was a genius at getting people to do what he wanted them to do. How many charismatic leaders have gotten people to do ugly things in the past?”
“Too many,” Boyd said. “But sometimes, leaders can get people to do the right thing, especially when it’s hard or we disagree.”
“How do any of us know what the right thing is?” Thresh said. She looked at the floor.
Boyd shrugged. “Best guess is the best we can do.”
Boyd also looked at the deck before reaching over and taking Thresh’s hand. He pulled it over and rested it on his knee.
“I need you to help me.” Boyd looked at her. She looked up at him.
“We need to find Kitzov. We need him to speak to the Faction captains. We have found the Skarak home world. We have to stop them from attacking us. We can only do it if all the people of the Scorpio System work together. The Union needs the Faction, and the Faction needs the Union. We need Kitzov to help everyone understand that.”
“I always knew you were crazy, Will,” Thresh said.
“I thought you loved me?
”
“That’s why I love you.”
Boyd stood up, his hand still holding Thresh’s. He lifted her to her feet.
“Let’s go and find Kitzov together.”
The Marine that had been watching stepped aside as Boyd led Thresh out of the brig and toward the command deck.
The clock was ticking.
Resolution
Blue Star Marine, Book 6
1
Sitting in the dark of interstellar space, beyond the limits of the Scorpio System and far beyond the outer edge of the Sphere, was the lone Union sentry ship, Sentinel Nine. A small Union corvette alone in the dark. Her sensor array was fully deployed to give maximum range, surveillance drones extending the area under surveillance.
Sentinel Nine sat in the center and watched.
Commander Peel—together with his reduced command crew of Jacobs and Smith—watched the holostage at the center of the deck. Their breathing was slow and low, as if the sound of their breath could give them away. A sharp intake of breath came from all three as they saw the signal that they knew would eventually come. A signal they had anticipated. A signal they had dreaded.
The first Skarak ship crept into the edge of the surveillance field. Peel held a vain hope that it was a lone Skarak ship, a probe or scout. But soon ships filled the image on Sentinel Nine’s main holostage. Dozens of warships drifted into sensor range, the long rapier cluster at the front of each shimmering on the edge of the holo-image as they slid into range.
Then the first mastership appeared at the edge of the holoimage, drifting toward the Scorpio System at the same lazy pace as the warships. Then came another mastership. Peel was sure there were more.
Soon the Skarak armada covered the entire span of the sensors, many astro-units in each direction. They drifted on toward the edge of the Sphere, the mass of asteroids that surrounded the system, billions of kilometers from the blue giant star at its center.
The armada drifted on, closing in on the position of Sentinel Nine.
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