This time, she’d placed the exit points at different angles and the Teloran couldn’t evade both. Instead, it chose to try to destroy them. It’s first barrage missed as the ship jinked. The second turned one of the rocks into a swarm of smaller missiles but failed to stop them.
The third exploded with the ship.
As the fireball engulfed her enemy, Stephanie dropped to her knees. Lars and Vishlog were at her side in seconds. To their surprise, she was still alive, conscious and very much present, but she was shaking when Lars snaked an arm around her shoulders and Vishlog looped an arm around her waist.
As they raised her to her feet, she looked at the screen. “Show me Meligorn.”
The teams complied, and she studied the screen.
After a couple of minutes, she asked, “Where did it hit?”
“Where did what hit?” Captain Emil wanted to know.
“The rock I missed. Where did it hit?”
His face took on a closed look and he stared past her. “It didn’t. There was a civilian vessel in-system, one of the liners. They rammed it.”
“They what?”
The captain started to speak, but his voice caught. He cleared his throat and tried again. “They engaged full power and rammed it. The impact was enough to deflect it away from the planet.”
There was silence as she absorbed the news. When she spoke, it was in a very small voice. “Where’s the ship?”
It was foolish to ask because she knew the answer. It was written on the captain’s face and on those of the crew who manned the consoles around her. She merely wanted to hear the words to make it real.
“The Wanderer’s sacrifice will be remembered.”
Stephanie buried her face in her hands and started to sob as Lars and Vishlog crowded close to offer comfort and shield her from view. After a moment, she sniffed, raised her head, and pushed them away to gain a little space.
She looked at the captain. “How many did we lose?”
“Two hundred and twelve Meligornians chose to die to save their world.”
She bit her lip but her eyes filled, and tears rolled down her cheeks. The glimmer of blue that had begun to return to her eyes vanished under a sheet of black. She drew a trembling breath and looked from the screen to Wattlebird.
“Jump us back,” the Morgana ordered. “I’m not done.”
This time, the pilot did not argue.
Chapter Fifty-Four
“Why in Selestine’s name couldn’t the Morgana have targeted them with a meteor?” V’ritan grumbled as another Teloran battleship moved up to take the place of the one he’d destroyed. The damned thing used the carcass of its predecessor as a shield and he couldn’t find a clean shot.
Off to his right, Selestine’s Hammer was burning, but her captain had brought it up to protect the King’s Warrior’s right flank. In return, the Warrior protected the Hammer’s bleeding left. V’ritan tried not to think of how many they’d lost. Knowing what he’d lost on his own ship was enough.
The second unharmed Teloran battlecruiser that moved into position was not a welcome sight. He surveyed the command center and nodded to the teams. They nodded in response, confidence in their eyes although their expressions were grave.
They might inevitably die but they had faith. In what, none of them knew, but it was there. The scan console blipped.
“We have incoming, Ghargilum.”
“Where? Find it and get it on screen.” V’ritan focused on the display, tried to see the ship, and almost dared to hope. My Witch, where are you?
At the same time, he saw one of the incoming Telorans move into view. “Prepare to fire.”
“There!” The scan operator was both jubilant and shocked. “It’s the Witch! What in Selestine’s name…” he began as the Warrior’s AI highlighted the Ebon Knight wink into existence inside the Teloran’s open hull.
While the enemy ship wasn’t as big as the Warrior, it still dwarfed the Knight. For an instant, V’ritan was glad the aliens had turned to deliver a broadside. If they hadn’t, the Knight would have been invisible.
“What in the Forest’s name are you doing in there, Stephanie?” he murmured and watched as the answer started to form.
The Knight’s hull crackled with purple fire and space flickered around it. As he stared, the magical flames spread and licked out from the Knight to fill the hull. Telorans fled from it to create brief explosive candles as the MU caught them.
Gasps caught V’ritan’s ears, his own among them, as cracks formed in the floor of the Teloran hold. As they stared, the cracks expanded and spread to the hull itself to spider a lacework of dark lines over it.
“Moon’s goddess…” He dragged in a breath but refused to beg Selestine to have mercy on the Teloran vessel. “The Witch’s will be done.”
“The Witch’s will,” echoed back to him over the comms and he realized he’d left the line open to every ship in the system as well as the crew. Somehow, that didn’t seem to matter.
More fire burned in the hull, but it was not magical. Instead, it was the flame of a dying ship as its electrical systems short-circuited and its atmosphere vented and caught alight briefly. Time seemed to stop before a new voice came over the lines.
“I am Morgana. I am Death Incarnate. I am the Protector who will end your people.” V’ritan was grateful that those cold, implacable tones were not directed toward him and his race.
One of the crew’s voices shook him from his awe.
“The power that must be needed to do that.”
“Selestine’s balls!” He cursed. “I need medics on the Witch’s ship—now!”
The command crew turned to stare, while one of the communications officers began to speak in soft, rapid tones to medical. V’ritan looked at his team.
“She’s doing that thing where she overwhelms herself again,” he explained and his eyes strayed to the ship again. “It’s effective but stupid.”
Shock flashed across their faces to hear him speak of the Witch like that, but there was agreement, too.
“I need people over there now.” He stared at the Teloran battleship that tore itself slowly apart and willed Ebon Knight’s pilot to move her out of the gathering inferno.
His thoughts worked like magic, and the ship moved. It didn’t jump but slipped sideways carefully out of the hold and into clear space, using thrusters to guide it away from the crumbling vessel.
“Come on, boy. I need you closer than that.”
In truth, he didn’t, but the closer the Knight came, the sooner his medical mages would get to the Witch—and if they were lucky, they wouldn’t add her to the casualty list today.
“The medics are away, sir, and the Knight is maneuvering for pick up.”
“Tell the Knight to maneuver for landing. The Warrior welcomes her aboard.”
The Warrior registered another incoming salvo, and V’ritan turned. “Kill that ship!”
No one asked which one. There was only one healthy Teloran ship remaining. The one the Witch’s ship had left only had moments to live. Around it, the Meligornian fleet surged forward, but the Witch struck again.
“She’ll kill herself,” V’ritan murmured when a stream of blue-and-purple energy twisted out of the Knight and seared into the stricken Teloran. Instead of tearing it apart, though, it flowed through the magic already at work and leapt away in multiple arcs.
Each arc targeted a different alien vessel and cloaked it in power before it seeped through its skin.
“Oh…Selestine’s…dearest… Clear the battlefield!” the King’s Warrior shouted. “Repeat, evacuate the battlefield.”
Around them, the Meligornian fleet moved to obey. Alongside him, the Hammer’s engines flared and died. His crew didn’t hesitate and sent grappling lines to haul the stricken battleship with them.
Pods burst from the Teloran ships and V’ritan could only imagine the panic inside. He thought of magic surging over the walls and the alien energy arcing around them as they fled.
It was a miracle any of their pods had launched and it would do them no good.
As he watched, the magic lashed out with hungry tendrils, and every pod it touched exploded.
“So much for escape,” he observed. “Remind me to never let Meligorn earn her wrath.”
The command crew murmured agreement as they stared at the carnage their Witch had created.
“Ghargilum, the Dreth!” one of the technicians cried to remind him that the Dreth had commandeered a Teloran vessel.
“Goddammit.” For some reason, the human term seemed to suit the situation best and he turned. “Put them on the screen, right now.”
Fear formed a cold lump in his stomach until he saw the Teloran-Dreth ship combination still intact and not awash with magical light. The panic dissipated, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “She knew.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Jonathan Wattlebird brought the Ebon Knight in to dock inside The King’s Warrior’s hold. He couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer size of the Meligornian beast when he looked through the forward viewscreen to take in the gantries and enclosed walkways.
While he completed the docking procedure and extended multiple umbilicals to allow the crew egress and the Warrior’s personnel access, he couldn’t help drawing parallels between the docking hold and what he’d have found on an orbital.
“Nice place you have here,” he muttered, locked the ship down, and sealed his station. “Do you mind if we come to visit?”
His murmurings drew a raised eyebrow from the captain, and he grinned.
“Wattlebird, you’re with me,” Emil ordered and the pilot’s grin faded. “Someone has to keep you out of trouble.”
“Or take him back to apologize,” one of the communications engineers quipped.
The captain’s lips thinned into a humorless smile. “There is that.”
They met Stephanie as they came out of the engine room. She leaned on Vishlog and Lars hovered on the other side. The Meligornian medics who’d arrived as they’d transited toward to the Warrior’s docks followed.
It had been their suggestion to put the fallen Witch in the engine room where magical energy was the strongest. Given the absence of any Meligornian to lend her energy or any batteries, their theory had been that her body would be able to tap the energies flowing around the engines.
Thinking back on it, Emil thought they might actually have saved her life. As it was, the girl was as pale as the stars but she managed a wavering smile when she saw him. “Have you come to make sure V’ritan doesn’t yell at me?” she asked, and he shook his head.
“I doubt there’s a force in this universe that can prevent that. I merely thought I’d keep you company.”
“And bear witness?” she asked.
“Someone has to bring the pieces back. The Marines will riot otherwise, and the cats.”
The smile returned. “They need to stay on board the Knight.”
He nodded. “I have warned the Meligornian maintenance teams that your rooms are out of bounds.”
She shrugged. “Well, if they don’t listen, it’s their own fault.”
“V’ritan has offered the crew the run of his recreational facilities.”
“You don’t think they should stay on the ship?”
“Scans show no Telorans in the system, and we’ve sent early warning buoys into the neighboring systems.”
“For all the good that’ll do if they make a longer transfer,” Jonathan interjected and was rewarded by the captain’s solemn glare.
Their tablets pinged and they stopped to check them.
“It looks like V’ritan is impatient,” Emil commented and gestured along the corridor. “Shall we?”
He would have offered her his arm but he didn’t think either Lars or Vishlog would give up their place beside her. Instead of making a fuss, he slipped in behind her and instead, walked with the Meligornians who’d come to her rescue.
The first whisper of thanks came as a surprise. “Thank you.”
“For saving our world,” another added when he sent the first a look of surprise.
A third gripped his shoulder. “We are grateful.”
“I… It was on Stephanie’s orders,” Emil managed.
“And you could have refused them. You are the captain.”
“I am her captain.”
“Your pilot refused her orders.”
“To save her,” he reminded them. “To save her so she could fight for us again.”
He wondered why his voice filled with regret, but they did not disapprove.
“He did the right thing.”
“Yes,” another agreed. “Sometimes, the Morgana must be saved from herself.”
Stephanie snorted but she didn’t turn around.
“You both have our thanks, as our Morgana will forever have our gratitude.”
The rest of her team waited at the umbilical, the Marines formed an honor guard, and the cats sat on either side of the door.
“So much for not letting this become a circus,” she grumbled, and Lars laughed.
“No wants to be left behind, the cats least of all. They were worried sick.”
“The Ghargilum Afreghil is waiting,” one of the medics interrupted. “It would be best if he was not kept waiting for much longer.”
They looked in the direction of the medic’s gaze and saw through the windows of the passenger lounge and her heart sank. The Afreghil was waiting and he did not seem pleased. Glad of Vishlog’s arm around her shoulders, she stiffened her spine.
She didn’t feel as well as she’d like V’ritan to think she was and there wasn’t a hope in hell that she would admit it. She leant on the Dreth as they made their way to the lounge. V’ritan studied her carefully when she arrived.
“It’s good to see you up and around after the battle,” he greeted her. “After that display, I wasn’t sure we would.”
Stephanie forced a smile and gave what was meant to be an airy wave of her hand. Unfortunately, it ended up as a kind of half-hearted swipe. “You know me too well,” she told him, “but I’m fine.”
He quirked an eyebrow and she hurried to reassure him. “Okay, I’m not saying I could fight another battle, but I’d be okay if something came up.”
There were muffled snorts from behind her and he made a show of examining her carefully. Finally, he gave her a wry smile.
“That would be easier to believe,” he told her, “if your feet were actually touching the ground and you weren’t the color of vrosh milk.”
“I am? Wait! They aren’t?” She looked at her feet and tried to ignore the swirl of dizziness that threatened to overwhelm her.
V’ritan had a point. The soles of her combat boots were at least a foot off the ground. Beside her, Vishlog’s chest shook with silent laughter. She tried to slap his armor but her hand was far too heavy.
The King’s Warrior continued his scrutiny before he added, “And your feet weren’t moving when you”—he cleared his throat—“uh, walked up from the ship.”
“Vishlog!”
“I am not in charge of moving your feet.”
She glared at the Meligornian as if being too weak to imitate walking and not realizing it was all his fault.
“This would be easier to pull off,” she told V’ritan, “if you’d been hit on the head during the fight.”
“Hmmph.” He looked past her at the medics he’d sent across to save her.
Stephanie tried to twist in the Dreth’s grasp to see what the Afreghil was looking at and he turned to make it easier.
Behind her, every single one of the medics did their best not to meet V’ritan’s gaze. She had the impression the ship had suddenly broken out with something contagious and glanced back at the Afreghil.
The wry smile had turned rueful. “She’s gotten to you already, hasn’t she?” he asked them and didn’t wait for an answer. “Don’t answer that. Having the Witch try to pull the wool over my eyes is enough deception for one day.”
“Great!” She wrapped her hand around his, glad to be able to do so. “Now, I’m good enough to feel the pain in my head instead of my body.”
The Meligornian sighed and shook his head. “Bring her this way,” he told Vishlog. “The medical center is full and I’d rather she wasn’t disturbed.”
“It will be more secure, too,” Lars noted. “Thank you, Amb—Ghargilum.”
“I miss those days, too, boy.” V’ritan’s smile was sad when he turned away.
It did not take them long to reach his quarters, and Stephanie saw he’d turned one of the rooms in his suite into a space for her and the cats. He caught her eyeing the two large cushions he’d set out and pretended offense.
“What? You didn’t expect me to allow the furry menaces to run loose on my ship, did you? I’ve lost enough men without having any eaten by your pets.”
Stephanie groaned and rolled her eyes but she was too tired to argue, and she hurt way too much to bother. She didn’t even protest when Vishlog scooped her legs up and Lars pulled the blankets back.
She did object when the team leader stooped to take off her boots.
“Hey! I can do that.”
He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?” He removed his hands. “Off you go, then.”
It was soon very clear that maybe she really couldn’t do that, and as embarrassing as it was, she might have to let them help. Her face was crimson by the time they propped her on the pillows and pulled the blankets around her.
“You really should be lying down,” Lars told her and she scowled.
“Not until I’ve talked to V’ritan. Okay?” That last was said with more attitude than she’d thought she could muster, and her teammates retreated, their hands raised.
Witch Of The Federation III (Federal Histories Book 3) Page 58