by Finn Gray
“Oh my gods, it’s Cap!”
Just below them stood the massive, dishlike weapon called the Nyx. Oates had just scrambled out of a hole in the center and rolled to the side. Green light flickered deep in the bowels of the weapon, growing bright.
“Get out of there, Cap,” Becca pleaded.
Suddenly a torrent of fire poured forth from deep within Nyx. It began to tremble and then the earth beneath it gave way and the entire structure collapsed.
“No!” Becca’s cry dissolved into a wail of the purest anguish. Her grief was beyond words, but she could not look away. She gazed down into the fire and smoke as their transport climbed higher, leaving the remains of Stone Mountain base behind.
Chapter 42
Battlecruiser Dragonfly
Senator Talia was still speaking when every ship of war in the Aquarian fleet opened up with all guns. The attack was so sudden, so unexpected, that they managed to fire off a second salvo before the Memnons could reply. A wave of Cobras, followed by Harrier and Osprey, led the charge as they sought to tear through the web the Memnons had spun. While the rest of the fleet continued to bombard the enemy lines, this small force sought to punch a hole in the Memnon line at what they had identified as its weakest point. Meanwhile, the civilian fleet, shepherded by Kestrel, retreated behind the cover of the satellite defense network.
Graves gripped the bridge, taking in the vid feeds, wishing he was a pilot once again. He wanted to feel the immediacy of squeezing the trigger and blowing an enemy ship to the hells. But for now, all he could do was wait, and hope the Memnon weapon didn’t fire before the ships cleared the zone.
“Commander, the signal on the ground is off the charts,” Iku said.
“That’s wonderful news,” Graves said, still watching the vids. On the screen, the Memnon dreadnoughts moved, adjusting their positions to meet the Aquarian assault.
“Sir, a few minutes more and I swear that entire island is going to go subatomic.” Iku’s eyes were wide, his voice strained by tension.
Graves felt someone take hold of his hand. The empress stood beside him, her eyes brimming with fear and determination. He gave her hand a quick squeeze.
“Not much longer.”
“Commander…” Iku warned.
“Now!” Over the com, Admiral Laws’ voice cracked like a whip.
And then the real attack began.
“Fisher!” Graves snapped.
There was no need for him to issue a command. On the admiral’s word, Fisher sent Dragonfly hurtling through space, right at the Brick. Flanked by Cronus and escorted by every Cobra they could muster, they surged straight ahead.
Blow it to the hells, like any other ship. That had been Graves’ strategy. Their only hope, really. Even if the fleet could escape the Memnon net, they’d never manage to outrun their enemy while spinning up their QE drives. They had to destroy the Brick. Everything depended on it.
Confident in their overwhelming firepower, the Memnons had grown lax, and had drifted too far apart. Only two dreadnoughts lay between the Aquarians and their target. Skylark and Swallow guarded the flanks to keep the other Memnon ships off their backs.
Graves’ focus narrowed to the task at hand. He led his ship with an aggressiveness bordering on recklessness. There was no other way—they needed every edge they could get in this desperate gambit.
Among the Aquarian fleet
“We are flying into the teeth of a buzzsaw,” Sabre whispered as she and her squadron winged their way toward the dreadnoughts that guarded the bizarre ship they called the Brick.
The commander’s feint had worked, drawing a portion of the Memnon fleet out of position. Still, the odds were against them. They would have to chew through two dreadnoughts and bring down the Brick before the rest of the Memnon fleet could come to its defense.
Admiral Laws came on the com, addressing the entire fleet.
“My fellow Aquarians, our very futures are at stake. That is not hyperbole. Our planets are lost. We are outnumbered and outgunned. But we are not without hope. In order for Aquaria to survive, we must destroy the ship known as the Brick, so that our civilian fleet and as many of our military craft as possible may escape to begin again. I realize the task before us is daunting, but I believe that, with courage, we will prevail. Go with the gods, knowing you have my thanks and my respect.”
“Easy for her to say,” Rose grumbled. “She’s not the one flying a suicide mission right into the middle of that swarm of Reapers.”
Sabre smirked. “I hope you’re not intimidated by the scary name they gave to their birds, Rose.”
“I’m scared of dying with your stupid voice in my ear telling me how I’m screwing up. What if the last thing we hear is the only thing we hear for all eternity?”
“Sabre?” Smoke piped up in a faux-dramatic voice. “Just tell me you that love me and then don’t speak again. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear.”
“I hate you all,” Sabre said as the others laughed.
“We love you, too,” Recess said.
“Fine. Not all of you are intolerable. Now, shut up and kill Memnons.”
She opened up the throttle. Her Cobra sprang forward. She felt the familiar thrill of entering combat, a tingling sensation as she opened up the throttle and flew toward probable death.
Weapons blazed.
Missiles launched.
Impact.
Chaos.
Sabre shredded an advancing Reaper and sent her Cobra into a roll to avoid the wreckage. A missile zipped past her nose and she made the shooter pay. The Reaper went down under heavy fire from her forward guns, spinning away in a cloud of leaking gases. Another missile flashed by, this one from behind her.
“Hey! Watch it!”
The missile found its target and another Reaper erupted directly in Sabre’s path. She gritted her teeth and fought to maintain control of her craft through the disruption.
“Smoked!” Smoke shouted.
“Stop that!” Sabre yelled. “It’s stupid.”
“I know, but it’s my thing now.”
The lead Memnon dreadnought loomed up ahead, a massive thing, bristling with weapons. All her guns blazed. On her flanks came two squadrons of Reapers.
Sabre’s heart raced. Bogies, bogies, everywhere bogies.
“Watch your asses, boys and girls!” she ordered.
“I’d rather watch yours,” Recess said. “Sabre, your three o’clock!”
A duo of Reapers zoomed in, crisscrossing and rolling as they opened up with their guns. Their aim was awful.
Sabre clicked her tongue in disapproval as she returned fire.
“Showy,” she said as she squeezed off a burst of fire that sent the lead craft spinning away. “Unnecessary.” She fired again and the second Reaper disintegrated.
“Damn! Two already, and cool as a cucumber with the commentary,” Rose said. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Lieutenant, you are one...”
Sabre never found out what, exactly she was. Deadly fire from the dreadnought’s rail gun shredded Rose’s Cobra before her eyes.
“Rose!” Cactus screamed. “No!” She began to sob. She and Rose had long been an item.
“Hold it together, Cactus!” Sabre shouted over the pilot’s wailing. “You’ve got to pay those goat-humpers back! Do you hear me?”
Nothing.
“Bogies!” Smoke shouted. “Three o’clock! Five… the hells with it. It’s rock around the clock out there.”
“You hear that, boys and girls? Memnons are on the menu and there’s plenty for everybody. Get ‘em while they’re hot!” Sabre ordered as she turned her bird into the path of an oncoming Reaper.
Chapter 43
The HUB
The image on the vidscreen played out in excruciating detail. The Memnon fleet had their Aquarian counterparts pinned in with Hyperion’s satellite defense grid at their backs and an overwhelming enemy force in their path. George had tapped into a network of communication satellites and
was now clicking through a variety of angles.
“Why don’t they jump?” Stine asked.
“It doesn’t make sense,” said George, “but looking at the way the battle lines have been drawn, I think this brick-shaped craft has something to do with it.” He tapped the image of the rectangular ship. It was clearly under heavy guard.
“Do you really think seven pilots can make a difference against that?” Stine asked.
“Six pilots. You don’t count yet,” Ferenchick snapped. “But no, we can’t make a difference. That said, I’m all for dying a glorious death, and this looks like the best opportunity I’m going to get.”
Ferenchick hailed from Koruza on Hyperion. Given the information they’d received, it seemed unlikely his family had survived the uprising.
George’s home was gone too, nuked to rubble. He’d thrown himself into work and hadn’t shown the slightest glimpse of emotion. The others were still in limbo, though none really expected good news. Only Sherr had a glimmer of hope. His family had been on an interplanetary cruise with his in-laws when the uprising began, and the vids showed a luxury cruise liner among the vast civilian fleet being guarded by the battlecruiser Kestrel. Maybe it was them.
“If George can get us anywhere close on this jump, I propose we move to support the civilian fleet,” Teddy suggested. “The six of us can’t take out a dreadnought, but maybe we can hold the line until they jump away.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Gwen said.
Sherr flashed a grateful smile. He was too honorable to suggest it himself, but it was the right thing to do.
“All right,” Sherr said. “We might literally be jumping into the middle of a firefight, so I want everyone strapped into their birds and ready to launch. We’ll be transmitting the standard recognition code, so our side will hopefully recognize us as friendly, but the Memnons will probably start shelling right away.”
Left unsaid was an even greater fear. The possibility that the HUB itself might not survive the jump. Their inspection had revealed structural damage and multiple pressure leaks. They’d patched the latter, but it was dicey as to whether or not the framework would withstand another jump. Still, they’d all agreed that they’d rather try and die in the attempt than do nothing.
“Be smart. Be safe.” Sherr finished, then softened his voice. “It’s been a privilege. May the gods go with you.”
Everyone, even Teddy, saluted.
“Dismissed.”
Teddy hung back with Sherr and George. “Just out of curiosity, what are the odds the jump will be at all accurate this time? Not saying it’s your fault, George,” he added quickly.
“I think I can get us pretty close this time.”
“You think you’ve got the nav repaired?” Sherr said.
“We recalibrated it, but I’m going to be prepared to override certain processes if need be.”
“But that means you’ll still be on the bridge when we arrive,” Teddy said.
“That’s been the plan from the start,” George said.
“That was when we thought we would be popping up at a safe distance. This is different.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not planning on jumping us into the heat of battle. We might pop up inside a civilian ship or something. I’ll be fine. I promise.”
“What if the HUB starts falling apart?” Sherr asked.
George shrugged. “I’ll double time it to the launch bay. I’ll be there long before you ass-draggers have fired your engines.” He forced a grin.
Teddy and Sherr could tell that George wasn’t about to change his mind. They solemnly shook hands.
“Good luck,” Teddy said.
George smiled. “See you on the other side.”
Chapter 44
Soria, Hyperion
They located the crashed military transport with ease. From above, they saw no signs of life. Marson wondered if anyone had survived. Surely he wasn’t too late.
“What are your instructions?” Peyton asked.
Marson found it odd to be treated with such deference, especially by someone like Peyton. She was about five years his senior, competent, cool under pressure. And she was beautiful. Marson hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of her since they’d launched.
“Ask Plowboy what he wants to do. He’s the squad leader.” He forced a laugh, trying to play it off as a joke.
Peyton bit her lip. “He’s… um… he got off the shuttle before launch. Didn’t you hear Becca tell the story?”
Marson frowned. He realized he’d been so mesmerized by Peyton that he hadn’t been aware of much else. How had he not realized Waring was gone?
“I’m sorry,” she said, misunderstanding his troubled expression. “I know he was a friend.”
“Everybody liked Waring.” That wasn’t entirely true, because Marson didn’t like Waring, but if it gained Marson a little sympathy from Peyton, it was worth it. “I mean, we fought a lot, but we’re brothers in arms. That’s how it goes. We saved each other’s asses a few times along the way.” He was surprised to feel a pinch at the back of his throat. His eyes grew misty. Was he actually sad about Waring? No, that couldn’t be it. He was sad about his family, his friends, his world… everything. He cleared his throat. “Did they say why he abandoned ship?”
“According to Becca, a security guard with a rocket launcher was taking aim at us, but your buddy got her in time.” Peyton flashed a small, sad smile. “You should be proud of him. He saved all our lives. He’s a hero.”
Of course he did. Which guarantees that no one in the squad will ever stop talking about him. Gods, what did I do to deserve this?
“Yeah, he is,” Marson said. “And he wouldn’t want us floating around up here in plain sight. Find us a place to put down.”
Once on the ground, Marson led the way toward the camp. He brought Becca along as well as two of the former lab subjects—a man called Usman and a woman called Clay. Each had worked in the medical profession before being taken by the Memnons. Each of them carried a medpack taken from the Stone Mountain base.
“We should approach with caution,” he warned Becca. “We don’t know what the situation on the ground is like.”
They made their way through the foul jungle, the bizarre flora and fauna already seeming ordinary to him. He couldn’t wait to get out of this place.
“That’s a big damn worm. Wish my patients could see it. The boys would be fascinated and the girls disgusted.” Usman had been a pediatrician in his previous life. He raised his foot to stamp down on it.
“Freeze!” Marson snapped. “You never know what’s venomous or filled with acid around here. Best to leave nature alone and hope it does the same to you.”
Usman lowered his foot and kept a respectful distance from the iridescent worm as he passed it by.
The transport lay just up ahead. Marson had just caught sight of it when a shot rang out, and they hit the ground.
“Hands in the air!” a familiar voice commanded. “Identify yourselves.”
“Snowman, it’s Marson” he shouted. “I’ve brought help.”
“You don’t look like Marson!”
That was odd. Snowman knew him well. Then again, he was still wearing the outfit he had stolen from the base, and he hadn’t had a shave in days.
“I’m going to stand up slowly with my hands in the air. And don’t you dare shoot me you corn-fed inbreeder!”
Snowman laughed and stepped out from behind cover. His broken arm was splinted and he carried a handgun. “That sounds like the Marson I know. Come on, but take it slow. We’re all feeling a little tense.”
Again the group stood and approached slowly. Snowman smiled and holstered his weapon. “You brought three docs? Thank the gods. Everybody’s still alive but a couple are in bad shape.”
Becca quickened her pace, her eyes locked on the shuttle. She no longer wept for Oates. Her grief appeared to have numbed her to the point that she moved mechanically, her expression blank.
&nb
sp; “I’m sorry about Oates,” Marson said softly. “Truth was, Marson was sorry, too. Oates was a good man.”
“Thank you. I’m just going to focus on the people I can save,” she said.
“Say, where’s Plowboy?” Snowman asked, looking around. “Back with the shuttles?”
Marson shook his head. “He jumped ship at the last second. Then the base blew up. There was nothing we could do.”
Snowman let out a stream of curses, followed by a list of things he was going to do to the next Memnon he met. “I thought I was mad when I had to bury Wig, but now…” He let out a low, throaty growl.
Becca glanced nervously up at the big marine.
“Don’t mind him,” Marson said. “We’ve have a rough few days.”
“A rough few days?” Becca echoed. “I wonder what that’s like.”
Snowman led them inside the crashed transport where the remaining marines nursed their injuries. They looked like shit-weak, dehydrated, and exhausted. Cassidy’s glassy eyes peeked out from the thick bandage wrapped around her head. Her stare was so vacant, her expression so blank, Marson thought she might be dead. Finally, she blinked.
Not dead. She just hates me almost as much as Waring did. As Clay knelt to examine Cassidy, Marson turned to Crane, who lay on a blanket nearby.
Crane managed a weak wave. “Glad you could make it.”
“Me too.”
Sergeant Trent lay at the far end of the cabin upon a makeshift bed of leaves. “I knew you could do it,” she said as Usman began tending to her leg. “Didn’t run into any trouble, did you?”
Marson grimaced. “Sir, there’s too much to tell, sir.” He gave a sloppy, belated salute.
“Drop the formality. Where’s Waring?”
Marson cleared his throat, looked around to make sure the others weren’t listening, then lowered his voice. “He stayed behind to fight the Memnons. We wouldn’t have escaped without him.”