Children of the Void: Book One of the Aionian Saga (14 page)

Takomi ordered her AI to dump all excess fuel into the rockets. The extra fuel blasted out the back of the SF, and Gideon and Takomi were smashed into their seats by the extra acceleration.

Before they hit the upper layers of Valkyrie’s atmosphere, Gideon spun his chair around to look backward. Takomi did the same, and they watched as the three rockets flew in like immense missiles. The final rail gun from the
Leviathan
fired at the antimatter rockets, and the resulting explosion was more devastating than Gideon could have imagined. Gideon had to close his eyes against the blinding light, even though his visor automatically dimmed to compensate. Tears streamed down his face as he repeatedly tried to hail his father.

“Dad. Admiral Killdeer, do you read me? Dad! Come in, Dad!”

His radio was silent, except for the sound of Takomi’s quiet sobs. The white-hot glow of the thermal shock wave faded to blue, then purple, then black. There was no debris racing away from the center of the explosion, at least nothing larger than a few atoms. Nothing was left of the alien ship, the biosphere, or CENTCOM. It seemed wrong that something so violent and enormous should be so utterly silent. Unable to watch any longer, Gideon turned his chair back around to face the oncoming planet. This was his new home, the one he had been waiting for his entire life. The home his parents had taken him to.

T
LOLTAN
’
S
SHIP
WAS
badly damaged, but with its aerodynamic profile, it cut through the air while the crude bulk of the Maodoni transports had to fight for each kilometer. Despite the advantage, Tloltan worried her ship was barely holding together. If given the choice, she would have entered the atmosphere in a more controlled fashion. She danced a fine line between obliteration by the Maodoni guns, or disintegration in the thickening atmosphere.

A lush forest rushed up to meet them, and Tloltan was forced to slow down to pull out of her dive. She waited until the last second, however, and increased her lead on her pursuers. Their heavy ships could never attempt such a maneuver, and had slowed down long before. Down here at ground level, the air was thickest, and though her controls felt sluggish, she knew the Maodoni ships could never keep up with them.

Slicing through the air just meters above the treetops, Tloltan hugged each hill and ridge, using the varied landscape as cover. “We’re losing the Maodoni behind the horizon,” said Itzau. “Soon they won’t be able to track us.”

Tloltan shot the gap between two granite cliffs rising out of the forest. “We’ll put as much distance between us as possible while we still can. Without a quantum drive, they’re stuck here. Once we secure the stockpile, we’ll leave them here to rot.”

“Contact straight above—” Itzau’s words were cut off by a deafening crack. The ship listed hard to the right, and Tloltan was barely able to correct it as their wingtip sliced the tops off of the tallest trees.

“Itzau, what was that?” Tloltan’s display answered for her. A marker showed one of the Maodoni transports was cruising about ten kilometers directly above them. “Return fire, now!”

“I’ve got it.” Itzau’s cannon buzzed with the high-energy plasma beam. One, two, three direct hits, and the enemy ship broke in two, tumbling down toward the surface.

“Great shot, Itzau,” Tloltan breathed as she tried to stabilize the ship. Alarms rang throughout the cockpit, and it was clear the ship wouldn’t stay in the air long. “Brace for impact. We’re going down.”

A violent jerk rocked the ship as most of the right wing broke off and spun into the trees. Tloltan managed to stay in the air long enough to avoid colliding with an oncoming hillside and skipped off of its summit instead. The impact whipped her around like a reed in a hurricane. The next impact crushed her flat, and despite her Koramoa Armor, she felt that she was about to die.

After the initial impact, the ship continued to slide and skip through the forest, but at least Tloltan could breathe. When it finally came to a stop, Tloltan was left in darkness.

“Itzau. Itzau, are you alive?” No answer. Tloltan ripped off her restraints, coming to her feet on unsteady legs. She managed to make it to the door and punched the release. When nothing happened, she gripped it and pulled, peeling it back with strength borrowed from the armor.

The moment the door was cracked open, bright sunlight flooded the cockpit. A little wider and Tloltan looked out to see the cockpit was a hundred meters from the rest of the ship. Dashing across the burning scar of land left in their wake, she reached the section of the ship that housed the gunner’s controls. The door here was twisted shut, so she grabbed it and ripped the metal hatch off the hull.

“Itzau!” The interior was a disaster. The hull was crumpled and bent. Parts and conduits lay haphazardly throughout. A gauntleted hand jutted out from inside a pile of boxes. She threw the debris aside and uncovered Itzau, twisted and bent even more than the ship around her. As Tloltan leaned down, Itzau let out a slow groan.

“Itzau, we’ve got to get out of here.”

“No,” Itzau croaked. “My back’s broken. I can’t go with you, Tloltan.”

“Yes, you can. I’ll carry you.” Tloltan leaned forward to pick up her fellow warrior.

“No.” Her voice was stronger this time. “Protect the Zaer. I can’t help you anymore.”

Tloltan sat frozen over Itzau’s body, grateful her mask concealed the tears coming down her cheeks. “Yes, you can.” She stood and walked over to a compartment on the wall, ripping off the door and pulling out a heavy gray cylinder. She pulled off a cord plugged into one side, and left the opposite cord attached. The remaining cord was just long enough to stretch over to Itzau on the floor, and Tloltan handed it to her.

“There’s enough antimatter in here to make this whole place a crater. When the Maodoni come, you will take care of them.”

Itzau reached up and released her helmet, pulling it over her head. Blood streamed down her face, but there was a sparkle in her eye. “It will be my pleasure.”

The helmet of Tloltan’s own armor folded back down to her neckline. Gripping Itzau’s hand over the antimatter container, she leaned forward and placed her forehead against her companion’s. “The Ancients be with you.”

“And you, Tloltan.”

There was nothing else to say, and no time to lose. Tloltan hurriedly gathered as many supplies as possible, and gave Itzau one last look before she left the wreckage. The young warrior smiled and nodded, and Tloltan saluted with a fist to her chest before she stepped out into the sun.
 

She’d run far from the crash site when her shadow suddenly appeared in front of her as a blinding flash, brighter even than the planet’s star, illuminated her from behind. She turned to see a fiery mushroom cloud rising above the forest in the distance. The ground rumbled, and a powerful boom echoed across the valley. A few seconds after that, the shockwave hit her, nearly knocking her down. She turned and ran through the trees, putting as much distance as possible between herself and the Maodoni.

She hadn’t gone far before her shadow appeared on the ground in front of her once more. She spun around and looked up. A ball of brilliant blue light expanded across the sky. “What is that?”

More antimatter, as far as I can tell. It’s pretty high up, orbital even.

“The mystery ship. The vessel we first spotted when we arrived. It looks like the Maodoni destroyed them too.”

I’m not so sure. I’m starting to pick up radio signals, and not from the Maodoni. It’s them. It’s the humans.

Tloltan continued to watch as the ball of light expanded and diffused. Orange streaks appeared in the sky as objects entered the atmosphere. “How can you be so sure?”

Because I’ve already decrypted it. They’re talking to one another, speaking in a human language. You’re never going to believe this.

“Believe what?”

Their ship was destroyed, but so was the Maodoni scout ship. Completely vaporized. The survivors are coming down to the surface.

“How could the humans have destroyed a Maodoni ship? They’re no match for them.”

Apparently they are. We can use their help.

Tloltan stared at the orange streaks of fire behind the entry vehicles. “They can use ours. The Maodoni won’t be happy about this, and it’s our fault the humans are here in the first place. They may have been lucky with that scout ship, but those troop transports are still out there.”

We’ll have to deal with that later. Right now, the only thing that matters is locating the stockpile. Without it, we’re done for.

Tloltan nodded, then turned and ran as fast as she could toward the northern mountains.

D
ESPITE
MONTHS
OF
training in simulators, there was no way to prepare for the experience of hitting a planet’s atmosphere at thousands of kilometers per hour. Even through Gideon’s helmet, the noise was deafening.
 

Starfighters were designed to be light and nimble in the vacuum of space, not in a dense atmosphere. The only pieces of the craft that were built to withstand the violent trip down to the surface were those vital to their survival. Gideon knew that the excess components were designed to break off in the atmosphere to reduce drag, but every time a large chunk of the craft ripped away, he was sure he was done for. At this point, the AI was in control, and they had no choice but to hang on.

The retrorockets fired to slow their descent, smashing him into his seat. Eventually the red glow dissipated and he could see the surface again. Valkyrie rushed up to meet them so fast that he worried the entry protocols had failed. There was one final jerk as the parachutes deployed, and Gideon finally let the air out of his lungs.

He took several deep breaths. “Are you all right?” he called to Takomi.
 

“Yeah, I think so. I was worried I would puke in my helmet.”

Gideon laughed, surprised that he still could. “I know what you mean.”
 

Now that the terrifying part was over, Gideon could fully appreciate the scene outside the SF’s canopy. To the south, towering peaks of rock and snow pierced through the clouds and continued past the horizon. To the east and north, the mountains descended down into green valleys dotted with lakes. The sun glinted off of a river like a silver ribbon twisting into the distance. To the west, the waves of a vast sea glittered like a million diamonds. The only sound was the whoosh of air rushing past them as Gideon and Takomi stared in speechless awe at the world below.

The SF descended into a cloud, obscuring their view. Without warning, huge black airbags inflated around the entire ship, followed immediately by a bone-jarring jolt as they hit something solid. They bounced a few times before the SF settled at an awkward angle on the ground.
 

Gideon cursed. “You okay?” he asked Takomi.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Once the airbags deflated, Gideon was able to peer outside. Dense fog obscured the ground, so he switched his helmet’s cameras to infrared. When his mind processed what the infrared was showing him, he gasped.

“Takomi, you’re not going to believe this, but I think we’re on top of a mountain.”

“What?” she said. “How big of a mountain?”

“Big. Switch on your infrared and you’ll see.”
 

The gasp over the intercom told him that Takomi had done as he said. The glowing colors of the infrared view showed a sharp ridge a few meters above their position that rose steeply to the right for as far as the image could discern. To the left it dropped off abruptly, so that on infrared it looked like the mountain was floating in midair. Gideon couldn’t believe anything could be so big.

“Do you feel that, Gid?” said Takomi, waking him from his trance.
 

“Feel what?”

“The gravity,” she went on. “It’s different somehow. It’s pulling straight down. I never realized that the
Leviathan
kind of pulled you down and to one side.”

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the subtle sensation. It was like his whole body was being pushed toward the ground. There was something else too, a heaviness, like his insides had been filled with lead. After sixteen years, his mind was still trying to compensate for the sensation of gravity artificially produced by centrifugal force. As he sat there, breathing deeply, a heaviness pressed down on his mind and soul too.
 

“Yeah, I feel it,” said Gideon. His voice was thick and low.

Takomi didn’t say anything for several seconds. “Don’t worry, Gid,” she said finally. “I’m sure he made it.”

Gideon nodded and sniffed. “Well, no point in sitting around.” He punched the controls on the virtual console. “Pauline, can you locate anyone else?”

“The SF9’s sensors are inoperative. However, your armor’s sensors do detect a weak signal from the northeast. There is insufficient data to determine a precise location from this distance.”

“Can we hail anyone on the coms?”

“Negative,” said Pauline in her friendly but emotionless voice.

“If we had satellites in orbit, we could probably contact the others,” said Takomi. “There are too many peaks and valleys down here.”

“Yeah, well, the asshole that killed my mom took care of the satellites too,” said Gideon, and he pulled the canopy release lever. It shot off with a blast of air and flew to one side.

“What are you doing?” yelled Takomi.

“I’m going to go find everybody. They could be hurt and need our help.”

“But shouldn’t we wait here? They might be coming to us.”

“We’ll leave a note, unless you want to risk spending the night alone on the top of a mountain.”

For a few seconds, she didn’t say anything, then the other canopy popped as it too released. “Fine. I’m coming with you.”

Gideon smiled and stood in the cockpit, hanging on to the chair to avoid tumbling out onto the rocks below. In his Sentinel Armor, he felt more confident stepping out into an alien world. So many others would just be wearing emergency suits and would have trouble moving around on rocky terrain such as this.