Aurora Rising: The Complete Collection (164 page)

The superdreadnought trained its weapons on the frigates as they began peppering its stern, and the
Orion
accelerated toward Scythia’s upper atmosphere. In a move worthy of a far smaller, lighter craft, it reversed thrusters and pivoted to adopt a counter-orbital trajectory in sync with the array node just below and to their starboard. He waited as their bearing to the superdreadnought shifted degree by degree.

“On my mark…fire.” The
Orion’s
lasers shot forth from beneath the viewport in a parallel trajectory to the node’s weaponry to slam into the hull of the alien vessel. The shield strength had been concentrated on the opposite side in response to the frigates’ assault. Now it flipped to this side—specifically, to the location of the node weapon’s impact as it delivered far more power than the
Orion’s
. This left weakened shielding to protect against the
Orion’s
fire as well as less to ward against the frigates’ barrage.

Evidence of the shield’s fluctuations as it tried to fend off four separate assaults could be seen in the relative splashing of the lasers and shimmers across the hull. The
Orion
cracked the hull first, the array last.

“Paena, get us clear. Comms, notify Scythia Terrestrial Defense to be on alert for debris making it through the atmosphere intact.”

Colonel Jenner:  
Copeland, Fahrion
, excellent work.

It wasn’t only excellent work—it also felt damn good. Yes, Malcolm decided, they were definitely winning.

Even amidst the continuing chaos in every direction, it was impossible to miss the arrival of the
EAS Churchill
as it dropped out of superluminal above the arc of Scythia’s profile.

Admiral Rychen:  It looks as though we’ve almost missed all the fun. Thank you for leaving a few enemy ships for us to play with.

Laughter rippled across the channel at Rychen’s jest. It was a good morale booster—and it was good Rychen had arrived on the scene. The aliens had destroyed sixty percent of the array nodes by this point, so they could sorely use the firepower of a dreadnought in order to maintain the precarious advantage they currently held in the conflict. In fact, the
Churchill
may permanently tip the balance in their favor.

Rychen wasted no time in entering the fray, diving 40° and joining one of the cruisers and two frigates in engaging a superdreadnought in the upper left corner of Quadrant One, opposite the field from the
Orion
. A multitude of lasers lit the sky to transform the backdrop of space to a vibrant platinum.

If Rychen had wanted to make a dramatic entrance, he succeeded in doing so. The force of weaponry directed at the superdreadnought instantly quadrupled, and in less than ten seconds it ripped apart from bow to stern. Though the encounter was relatively distant, Malcolm still instinctively readied himself for the secondary explosion to wash out the field of battle.

As expected, the explosion surged outward to overtake the entire scene. The thousands of swarmers littering the field vanished in the blinding glare.

As the ubiquitous light faded he blinked away the halos and peered out the viewport to consider his next target—

All the alien vessels were gone.

Shouts and exclamations erupted on the bridge and across the comms, but Malcolm merely stared out at the suddenly vacant space and the planet below, a view now marred only by floating debris and a host of very confused Alliance vessels. A large swath of clouds shifted to reveal the pale teal waters of Scythia’s oceans glittering in the sunlight, peaceful and idyllic.

He knew he should feel relief and arguably pride at having played a part in saving the people who lived on the planet below. And he was beyond glad they lived. But why had the Metigens departed, and so abruptly? Had they run when they realized they were going to lose, making the decision to save their remaining ships much as he and Rychen had done at Messium? Were they moving on to a more important battle? Would they return in a few minutes, taking the Alliance contingent by surprise?

Admiral Rychen:  Well isn’t that interesting.

Malcolm didn’t have to strain to detect the frustration in Rychen’s voice on the command channel.

Colonel Jenner:  This is new behavior, correct?

Admiral Rychen:  It is. Even at our most decisive victories—Xanadu, Henan—they fought to nearly the last ship.

Commodore Escarra:  Maybe your presence frightened them away, Admiral.

Rychen indulged the brief levity.
If only I were so lucky. I could leap around the galaxy, striking a mighty terror into the enemy and sending them scurrying in waves back through their portal.

Colonel Jenner:  I would certainly pay to see that—but I doubt I’ll get the opportunity. Assuming they don’t materialize in the next several minutes to take us by surprise, the question becomes: did they flee to save their remaining ships or because they have someplace better to be?

Admiral Rychen:  I’m not so sure it’s an either-or proposition, Colonel. My gut tells me they fled to save their remaining ships
because
they have someplace better to be.

Rychen switched to the fleet-wide channel.
All vessels continue in orbit on full alert for the next hour. If the Metigens do not reappear by that time, 10
^th
Regiment stay here to guard Scythia. All other vessels rendezvous at the provided coordinates in the Aquila stellar system and await further orders.

A low-grade but weighty dread settled over Malcolm. He sensed the end was coming, whether they were ready for it or not.

36

SIYANE

S
PACE,
C
ENTRAL
Q
UADRANT

N
OAH LET OUT A LOW WHISTLE
as he descended the spiral stairs behind Caleb and reached the lower level of the
Siyane
with its oversized bed, proper shower and
bath
. “Okay, I was impressed by the main cabin, but this is insane. I didn’t realize the Solovys were wealthy.”

“They’re not. Alex earned all this from scratch.”

He couldn’t help but notice the tone in Caleb’s voice bled with both pride and respect. He was a different man now, that much was obvious. A touch less lighthearted perhaps, but far more resolute. It was as if he finally had a tangible stake in the game, one which extended beyond his own success and survival.

Caleb opened a hatch in the floor and shimmied down the ladder. “I want to show you where to find the various engineering modules, in case we run into any mechanical difficulties.”

“You got it.” He swung down into the dim engineering hold.

It was a hell of an idea, the notion of having something else to fight for besides yourself. Scary, too. Noah swore silently at the recognition he was being facetious, to himself, in his own head. Well, at least a little facetious. But he’d spent recent days surrounded by people who were devoted to saving as many lives as possible even if at the cost of their own, and the truth was it had been a bit of a kick in the nuts.

He told himself he
had
helped; he
was
helping. He’d helped get vital data off Messium, along with a few lives that weren’t his own in the process. He’d made the ultimate sacrifice of reaching out to his father, thus helping to make the warships stronger and hardier. Now he was helping to save innocent civilians—loved ones of a friend no less—from a rogue general intent on killing them.

Maybe he really was helping.

Once they went back upstairs to the main cabin of this swank ship, he gestured to the large bag Caleb had dropped against the wall when they’d boarded. “What’s in the bag?”

Caleb grabbed a couple of energy bars and water bottles from the kitchen cabinets and tossed them on the table before opening up the bag. “Gifts from Navick in case of emergency. A couple of military-issue Daemons, a TSG, no less than four blades, new and impressively powerful personal shields—classified tech I’m guessing—three sets of wrist restraints and….” He held up a black, semi-flexible web a meter in length. “I have no idea what this is.”

“The only uses I can think of for that contraption do not involve bloodshed.” Noah opened one of the bars while Caleb returned the bag to the floor then joined him at the small kitchen table.

They had cleared Earth half an hour earlier. Asserting a superluminal travel waiver for inside the Main Asteroid Belt courtesy of EASC, before the tour began Caleb had set a course for Krysk at ridiculous speed. Still, it would take them over a day to reach their destination. But it was time they were going to need to devise a hopefully not suicidal plan to reach Caleb’s sister and niece in the middle of a military bombardment, as well as a slightly more suicidal backup plan or two in case the situation they found when they arrived was different than expected.

“I am also receiving everything the Alliance has on the ships involved, O’Connell’s classified personnel file—complete with some rather colorful commentary from Admiral Solovy—and the details of the attacks on New Orient and Ogham. In addition, I’ve been promised the specs on Krysk’s defenses from Federation Military HQ, but they haven’t arrived yet.”

Noah nodded. “Any idea how all that’s going to help us successfully navigate a full-scale assault by a military cruiser, two frigates and twelve fighters in our single scout ship?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured. Nice of them to send it, though.”

“I thought so.” Caleb kicked the chair back and propped his feet on the table.

Noah hadn’t wanted to be rude, but now he mimicked the pose as he chewed absently on the energy bar. “I saw my father last week.”

“End of days spur you to make peace with your past or something?”

“Not a chance. Kennedy needed him to consult on the adiamene production and needed a carrot to dangle to entice him: me. I tried to convince her I was less a carrot and more a barbed, poison-laced stick, but to no avail.”

“How did it work out?”

“For him? The discomfort he suffered from my presence was probably outweighed by the boost to his ego from getting to flex his ‘foremost expert’ muscles and be indispensable for a single day. For me? Every single one of my life choices was validated the instant I walked in his office and again every minute thereafter. The man really is a sanctimonious prick.”

“And?”

He groaned and reached for his water. “And if we survive the aliens I suppose we’ll keep in touch. A little and sporadically—very sporadically.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow but didn’t otherwise poke at what he had to know was a sensitive topic. “So what about Kennedy? You haven’t had a chance to fill me in.”

“Kennedy is…” he studied the table’s surface “…Kennedy was a mistake.”

“Oh?”

“She’s wealthier than a god and only half as spoiled. But she’s a princess playing at being a real person. I was just a prop in her games.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

Caleb shrugged with feigned nonchalance. “Ever consider you might be projecting?”

“Projecting my own desires? Hell, no.”

“Ever consider you’re kind of an idiot?”

“I won’t disagree, but in what specific way am I an idiot?”

“You’re projecting your animosity toward your father and by extension everyone who operates in his world onto her.”

“I got past my hang-ups about my father long ago.”

“Sure.” Caleb tapped his blade hilt on the table in a steady cadence. “I heard she spent over half a billion credits of her family’s money—and nearly five million of her own—to ensure this adiamene got manufactured in time for the final campaigns.”

Noah stared at the half-eaten bar in his hand. “Ten million of her own.”

“Doesn’t sound particularly like a princess to me. Look, I don’t know her very well, but Alex chooses her friends with inordinate care. If there wasn’t substance beneath the window dressing, she would have ditched her years ago.”

The memory of her face as he’d bolted to join Caleb flashed into his mind—pained, desperate, vulnerable. Hurt. He’d blinked it away at the time, unwilling to see anything that diverged from his simple, uncomplicated view of the world and of her. But now…

…dammit, dammit,
dammit
.

“Dammit.” He ran a hand through his hair then dropped his elbows to the table and his head into his palms.

Caleb chuckled, but allowed Noah a moment to collect himself. “So, what about Kennedy?”

Noah shook his head, something between a grin and a grimace animating his features as he pushed off the table to slump in his chair. “Right. So Kennedy is…like a hurricane. Bold, self-assured bordering on bossy, gorgeous—and dear god with the curves. She’s funny, startlingly kind, brilliant but ridiculously silly. She has this crazy, totally unjustified optimism about the world and the people in it. But it got us off Messium, to Earth, and it damn well might help us defeat the aliens…so I don’t know. Maybe it isn’t totally unjustified after all.”