Steel-Winged Valkyrie (Lady Hellgate Book 5)

by Greg Dragon

  “Loud and clear, Lieutenant,” Raileo responded. He was the one who was routinely scolded by Helga for pulling his restraints prematurely, and under the glare she had given him just now, it became obvious that her words were directed at him.

  “Ship’s not big enough to be running about anyway, and there’s no artificial gravity,” Cilas said. “Think of the Britz, but without the cryo-chairs, space, and local gravity. No one said this would be a comfortable ride, but as long as we get there in one piece, I will be happy. When we get to Genese, Ate will put us down inside their starport, where we are to play the part of haulers. Everyone won’t be fooled. Any operator will be able to spot an ESO from a mile off. It’s a risk we will take, but we should still be cautious and play our role as working civilians. We go in with our heads down, find a secure place to sleep and shore up while we gather intelligence, then when the time is ready, we pull them out.”

  “What about the second target, Commander?” Raileo asked. “You mentioned two: is there another poser, or someone else we haven’t identified yet?”

  “Yeah, our second target’s location will likely come from the first, since he’s prone to be at-large now that the Alliance is aware. My feeling is that it is someone powerful and connected, someone who will expect an Alliance presence coming in to investigate. He is why we are stressing delicacy on this mission. To become exposed means losing more than our lives; it could fray the fabric that ties Genese to our Alliance,” Cilas reminded them.

  “No mistakes then,” Raileo said, and Anders echoed his words, reciting them as if he was trying to convince himself.

  “We’ll speak more on the way down, but for now, those are your orders. We aim to drop at the end of tomorrow’s first shift,” Cilas retreated back to his desk to lean against it.

  “How’s the stowaway?” Quentin inquired of Helga while the rest of the Nighthawks made their way out of Cilas’s cabin.

  “That your little pet name for her?” Helga countered. “Your stowaway’s safe and healing nicely, Q. Didn’t take her for your type, but I’m getting used to surprises.”

  “She’s not,” he quickly corrected her. “I honestly was curious about her status, but of course you’re going to keep speculating, aren’t you? Girl looked half-dead when you brought her in, and she’s important to us, so I am honestly being serious with my asking.”

  “Your little stowaway is doing good, Q.” Helga grinned. “Checked on her earlier in medbay, and she was nicely patched up, though she’s going to need time to recover. Know what I mean?”

  “Told me she comes from Basce City, and that was enough,” Quentin recalled, growing serious. “Can’t help but feel responsible for her somehow, Ate. She and I had a chat, and I felt something, like I said, some sort of responsibility, as if the planet is reaching out to tell me to look after her. What do you think they’ll do to her, once we’re told where to take her?”

  “I’m thinking another station, or possibly Meluvia, with enough compensation for her to start over,” Helga said. “This pans out, she could very well be a hero, though she only did this to save her own skin. Had she not been nosy, she would have delivered those codes, and the lizards would know the routes of several starships. That could have been devastating, and who’s to say other codes aren’t out there being spread by smugglers that don’t open their packages?”

  “Seems sort of harsh, Ate. Wasn’t she about to deliver the intel freely to our reps on the ground when her father was murdered?”

  “Sounds like you all had much more than a chat. For her to tell you all that, you two must have really hit it off or established a connection,” Helga put a finger to her chin, tipped her head and looked up at his face skeptically. When he went to protest, Helga laughed at his discomfort, and he fanned her off dismissively, no longer willing to take part in her game. “Why don’t you go see her, Q? Seriously. She’s been through a lot, and could use a familiar face. Trust me, nowhere else feels lonelier than Medbay, and Cleia isn’t a conversationalist.” Quentin touched her shoulder in a gesture of thanks before saluting Cilas and exiting the cabin.

  “Helga, hang back a minute,” Cilas said, clapping Raileo on his shoulder as he walked him out. “Keeping you in the loop here, but steel yourself,” he conspired under his breath when they were finally alone. “That document Fio stole was sent from the Harridan, an infiltrator belonging to Helysian. It’s supposed to be scouting Louine space, but has been lingering near Genese citing urgent repairs. The thing is, it’s been there for over four months, refusing aid and direct commands. Captain Sho says the council fears mutiny, and asked Captain Lede of Missio-Tral to intercept and give Harridan a chance to explain under direct presence.”

  “Direct presence, what does that mean in this instance?” Helga said, shocked at what she was hearing, but determined to know everything that Cilas had learned about their predicament.

  “Means Missio-Tral will get within trace range and ask their captain for a face-to-face parlay. Apparently he’s been acting strangely, and has stayed out of conflict with the lizards. One of the officers onboard has been in contact with the council secretly since it became obvious that something was off. Our spy says his captain, Jawal Kur, has had cruisers traveling back and forth to the planet. The Alliance wants answers, and since seeing those codes from Fio Doro, they’ve decided enough is enough.”

  “This is insane.” Helga placed a hand over her mouth. “An Alliance capital class turning her cannons onto an infiltrator. It feels wrong even to consider it. There are thousands of spacers on those infiltrators, likely innocent to whatever schemes this captain’s involved in. What about the spy? Aren’t they concerned that a hero will be caught up in the crossfire?”

  “If it comes to violence, I am sure that Captain Lede will choose to merely deplete their shields and rupture their engine,” Cilas assured her. “We don’t fire on one another to destroy, you know that. Even if there weren’t spacers onboard you still don’t open up on that class of vessel. No, they’ll shut her down, put the Marines onboard, and drag the traitor off to the brig, while taking the Harridan a prize until they can vet and interrogate the crew.”

  “A few airlocks here, a few airlocks there,” Helga sang, pretending to play a flute with her fingers in tune with the mockery she made. “All while the rest of us worry that we could be the next victims of a madman at the helm. I don’t know what scares me more than the thought of my own Alliance coming against me, but it’s up there with giant worms biting off my head. How is this reality, Cy? It’s Captain Lang all over again.”

  “I know,” Cilas said. “But things are already in motion; it’s going to happen. Captains are people too, sometimes we forget. They can lose their faculties, though the hints I got from Commander Nam suggested that we’re dealing with something else.” Cilas paused, inhaled deeply, and exhaled while shaking his head. It was as if he couldn’t believe what he was about to tell her. “Commander Nam believes that Captain Kur has been corrupted by the Geralos,” he finally said.

  Helga blinked twice. “That can’t happen. That doesn’t happen, it’s just absurd. How does a lizard get close enough to a captain for him to be corrupted? Isn’t that the point of keeping our most important assets far out of reach of their grip? The helm of a starship in Geralos hands, Cilas, hanging outside the hot zone, bouncing our messages, and—wait, didn’t you say the Geralos have been busy out here? Distracting the defense force to soften the zone so those cruisers can leave unobstructed, but to where?”

  “That’s where we come in.” Cilas patted his chest. “That’s the mission. The reason behind everything I outlined in my brief. I don’t have to remind you that what I tell you stays here. You’re my number two, so you know what’s on the line.” Cilas’s intense gaze bore into her eyes until she replied with a “yes sir,” having finally processed those ominous words he so casually stated.

  “The so-called recruiter who put the bounty on Fio, we are to neutralize him or bring
him back to Rendron for questioning. He isn’t our primary target, so we have the option depending on how willing he is to comply with our demands.” Cilas’s face seemed to grow harder, no longer the friendly commander but a militant enforcer, running through a briefing with his command.

  “And who’s our real target?” Helga asked, still stunned by the thought of an infiltrator in the hands of the enemy.

  “Target’s the official who gave Fio the job to retrieve that suitcase with the documents. This is going to test all of us, especially Anders. Windows will be tight on errors and thype-ups, so it will be a rough first drop for that man. Sort of like yours was.” He cracked a smile, though Helga didn’t find it amusing. “William Vray is his name. We’re going to have to locate him first then isolate him. Fio’s help will be needed there.”

  “We’re taking her along?” Helga couldn’t believe he would be good with a civilian on an operation.

  Cilas split his hands. “No. Can’t have any of us playing guardian. This is a stealth or nothing op in unknown conditions. A desperation shot relying on our invisibility. We’re good, but that’s a pretty tall order for an order that’s already towering. We will have her on comms, and run a flo-bot when we need her to have eyes on our location. Small arms and knives, no PAS, moving in the darkness and living off the grid during the daytime.”

  “We do this without rousing the neighborhood?” Helga confirmed. “Genese isn’t to know we’re there doing Alliance business?”

  “Yes, and yes,” Cilas replied. “But Genese is aware, just not the goons in the local government. The Alliance representative knows and has given us permission to break atmosphere and conduct the extraction. With the local government out of the loop, we’d be coming for one of their own, so going in loud means that Nighthawks will be on the feeds fighting local security. That could cause our captain to lose face, something not happening under my command.”

  “It certainly will not,” Helga agreed, feeling the same way he did about bringing shame to their starship. “Maybe this will be the one.”

  “The one for what?” Cilas looked at her quizzically.

  “The one mission that plays out the way we planned.” Helga grinned, though Cilas didn’t find it amusing.

  15

  The merchant ship wasn’t anything like Helga expected. When Cilas had informed her of his deal with the shipwright, she had imagined something old, with a rigged-up console and faulty controls. After leaving Neroka and exiting the station cluster, they had navigated to the coordinates given and within an hour found the ship cloaked and tethered to a defunct satellite.

  It was more mining vessel than hauler, though judging from its shape it could manage any role. The hull was made from a composite of silicon and ceramic plates, molded into a compact design resembling a clamshell. Two raised seats occupied the bridge, attached to arms curving up to axles in the overhead, an outdated Genesian solution for keeping human pilots intact during extreme G-force exercises.

  Behind the bridge was an all-in-one compartment that held a bio-extraction unit, a set of lockers, and seats mounted to the bulkhead. The cargo hold was the largest space, fitted with belts, pulleys, and other equipment meant to tie things down inside the ship. The hull could have used a scrub and paint job, its once blue coat a mottled gray from a long service in space without much attention being paid to maintenance. Still, she was better than expected, and after many checks for safety, and anything that could sabotage, she was taken into the Ursula’s hangar for a thorough inspection.

  Between the two pilots and Alon Weinstar, the ship was scrutinized from engine to cargo hold, revealing everything about its state and reliability as a dropship. After Weinstar wrote down what he needed for repairs, Helga enlisted the help of the Nighthawks and a few members from engineering. Two cycles later their new acquisition was ready for flight, and on Fio’s suggestion, she was christened Justice, a moniker the smugglers hoped would be the outcome of their mission.

  Cilas’s plans were set in motion with the Nighthawks ordered to ready their gear. This included 3B XO Suits and Infiltrator’s Composite Armor, which were civilian clothes reinforced with armored weaving sewn inside the fabric. While they wouldn’t stop bullets from crushing bones or hurting like the dickens, they would prevent them from breaking flesh.

  A cycle later, and the Nighthawks, traveling in Justice, were orbiting Genese calculating the fastest route to their destination. From their current position, it turned out that they were in a favorable position to the planet’s rotation and in less than an hour they would be breaking atmosphere to finally start their assault.

  “How’re we doing back there?” Helga asked, turning to look back at the Nighthawks from her raised chair.

  “Are we there yet?” was Raileo’s reply, which earned him some laughter from one of the others, but she couldn’t tell who it was. Helga allowed a smile, happy to know that at the very least they were entertained. Drops could be the stuff of nightmares to spacers who weren’t accustomed to a planet’s atmosphere. Glancing up at the vid-screen carrying the feed from the rear, she saw Anders was the one cracking jokes with Raileo Lei.

  “Sounds like it’s a go then, prepare for entry,” she announced, turning back to the front, leaning forward to manipulate the HUD to plot a course down to the coast of a country known as Voan. Fio Doro had shown her a way to enter Basce City without too much notice, and it dealt with finding the coast of Voan. “Orbital tracking taken offline. We’re going diving. Hold for entry.”

  She brought the ship’s nose down, slipping into the Genesian atmosphere, and switched the commands on the console over from space to air. They picked up speed, plunging through a wispy world of gray blotches that kept the ground below a mystery for a few minutes before it cleared. “Glide mode engaged while I transfer energy,” she reported, applying some thrust to take them through a layer of thick yellow clouds.

  Below her feet, where the canopy ended, she could finally see the ocean, sparkling, and stretched out so far it appeared as if it comprised the entire planet. These bodies of water always brought with them a mélange of emotions for the Nighthawk. They were still strange and alien for a spacer raised on a starship, unaware if she’d ever experience a moon or planet firsthand.

  At times Helga would sit and think of how it would feel to live near the ocean on a water-filled planet. On prior missions she had seen a variety of wet wonders, from the waterfalls on Meluvia to the artificial lake that ran the length of Sanctuary. The worst memory was BLAST, one of two times she’d experienced the ocean and its mysterious depths. Black waters on Arbar, salty enough to dehydrate the hardiest of Traxians, had been the last “obstacle” for she and the other future ESOs to pass after a day of hell.

  Seeing it now below her brought back all of those memories, especially the ones she had worked hard to forget. That strange blue deep, whose appearance changed depending on your proximity, and was its own world filled with life and mysteries that made it both necessary and dangerous. Turning to the holo-map displaying a topographic outline of their intended destination, Helga worked out how much longer she would be staring down at the abyss.

  “I’m really glad Ina decided to come back,” Cilas offered, rescuing her from that war inside her mind. “Not many would after going through what she’s been through, but I honestly think she did it for you. From the moment you two came in contact, you’ve had a connection, don’t you agree?”

  “You really think so?” Helga volleyed back the question. She respected Ina, but didn’t really feel that they were close. “It’s been a little hard, to be honest, handing the controls over to someone else. All those cycles inside the cockpit, it sort of became my safe place, and I still do miss having it all to myself.”

  “I keep going up there to look for you, Ate,” Raileo admitted. “After the third time I forced myself to stop. Lieutenant Reysor probably thinks I have a crush on her.”

  “Nah, Ina’s pretty sharp,” Helga
assured him. “She knows we came from having Ursula to ourselves, and you’re likely not the only one to have done that.”

  “He’s not,” both Cilas and Quentin admitted from where they sat behind her.

  “Ina has been a tremendous help with the transition,” Helga continued. “She’s both brilliant and vicious, which is what Ursula requires in a pilot. I think we’re lucky to have her, really. You all remember Aqnaqak and Misa having to fly us to Meluvia? I still feel guilty for everything that happened to her down there.”

  “Are we sure this is good conversation to have in front of our new recruit, Lieutenant?” Quentin asked. Helga exhaled heavily at the memory, recalling the ordeal they had gone through with Misa, who had been a ranked fighter pilot that Captain Tara Cor had loaned them. “I feel guilty as well for what happened. It was a schtill op, and we did manage to rescue her. Speaking of, have either of you heard anything?"

  “When we sent out invitations for Ursula’s crew, Misa sent a nice note informing me that she had already been promoted to CAG,” Cilas recalled. “I thought I told you that.”

  “You did, but I always wondered if that was valid or if she just didn’t want any more dealings with our team,” she said, still watching the water as they continued to lose altitude.

  “I believe she was sincere,” Cilas said, “She did mention how she enjoyed her brief time in the cockpit with you.”

  “How we looking, Anders?” Helga queried the Nighthawk, who didn’t look to be doing too well with all the turbulence.

  “Ready to get to it, Lieutenant,” the young recruit shouted, putting on a brave face.

  “That’s what we want to hear, right Nighthawks?” And Helga pumped her fist in the air when all but Cilas replied with a chorus of shouts.

  They spoke some on old missions, recounting the good and bad experiences on different moons and planets. Anders was intrigued, and Helga hoped he wasn’t expecting Genese to be anything like Meluvia, which by appearances alone was considered a paradise.