Dark Space: Origin (21 page)

“Frek you, Ethan!” she finally managed, but he couldn’t hear. He wasn’t going to leave her like that. She would make him eat that heart-wrenching goodbye! She’d make sure he had that chance to make a life with her if it was the last thing she did, and then they’d see if he was telling the truth or not. Alara turned to look around the milling flight deck. “Gina! Where the frek are you?”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” she said.

Alara whirled around to see Gina standing behind her. “You were listening the whole time?”

“Waiting for you,” she clarified. “We’ve got a bird to fly, remember?” Gina pointed to the side of another transport. “The XO doesn’t like the idea of a brevet flying solo, so he’s got you assigned as my copilot—always the copilot, never the pilot, hoi?” Gina winked.

Alara shook her head. “I need your help.”

“We don’t have time for any favors, Kiddie.”

“I want us to fly
that
transport.” Alara turned and pointed to the one Ethan had disappeared into.

Gina frowned. “That’s Assault Trans One. See the emblem on the side?”

Alara noted the badge-shaped emblem, black with a jagged gold lightning bolt cutting through a glittering field of stars. She shook her head, not comprehending. “So? What’s that mean?”

“They’re vanguards—the sentinels’ elite. They’re the first ones in and the last ones out.”

“I don’t care.”

Gina shrugged. “Just thought you’d like to know what you’re getting us into.”

“Come on,” Alara set off at a jog.

“Hoi—hold up! What’s your plan to replace the pilots already in there?” Gina asked, jogging up beside her. “They’re probably A class vets. We’re both class B. There’s no way they’ll let us switch with them just like that. Mission control won’t allow it either.”

“I’ll think of something,” Alara said.

When they got up to the blocky front of the shuttle, Alara ran around the nose until she could clearly see the pilot and copilot through the forward viewport. She began waving her arms in the air frantically. The pilot noticed her first and turned to his copilot to say something. Then the copilot looked up, saw her, and shook his head. Alara didn’t stop waving her arms until the pilot cracked the side hatch open and poked his head out to speak with her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Thank the Immortals you saw me in time! You have a crack in your engine block, and I think I saw coolant leaking!”

“Frek . . .” the pilot muttered. “Thanks, I’ll get it checked.”

“You don’t have time for that! You’re with the vanguards, right?” Alara turned and pointed to the transport Gina had indicated was theirs. “Take ours. She hasn’t been loaded yet. I’ll make sure this one’s repaired and we’ll fly it in the last wave.”

“All right. I suppose that’ll do. Let me just notify command about the switch.” A minute later he and his copilot started down the ladder from the open hatch. They reached the deck just as Alara heard the loading ramp at the back of the shuttle opening to let the vanguards out. The pilot sent her a thumbs-up before he and his copilot ran off. Alara smiled and bounded up the ladder to the cockpit. Panting heavily, she found the button marked raise/lower ramp and stabbed it just before it finished lowering. In the next instant, she heard the ship’s intercom crackle. “Hoi, what’s going on up there?” It was Ethan’s sergeant. “I thought we were switching shuttles, Dreggs?”

“Ah, one moment please, we appear to be having some technical difficulties with the ramp controls.”

Alara heard a hiss of static as the sergeant let out a frustrated sigh. “Don’t bother. We’ll climb out the airlocks.”

“Negative, negative . . .” she said, thinking fast. “It looks like we’ve got an oxygen leak. Wouldn’t want a spark to flash cook you.”

Gina quirked an eyebrow at her as she reached the top of the ladder.
Oxygen leak?
she mouthed.

“The frek? Who is this?” the sergeant demanded.

“Command says there’s no time to switch shuttles, Sergeant. You’re going to have to stay there. All systems are green now, so don’t worry. Must have been a faulty sensor.” Alara locked the ramp as soon as it closed, and then she locked all of the airlocks for good measure.

“Hoi!” the sergeant said. She could hear someone banging in the background of the transmission. “Let us out!”

Gina took a seat beside Alara and leaned forward to speak into the comm. “It’s all right, Sergeant—had some confusion on this end with my greeny copilot, but we’re good to go now.”

“Where’s Lieutenant Dreggs? He said—”

“Forget what he said. There’s no time to switch shuttles. We’re your new pilots for this mission. Please strap in and stand by for launch.” With that, Gina muted the intercom and shook her head. “You’re in my chair.”

“Oh, right—sorry,” Alara said, standing up quickly.

“Go get suited up while I finish dealing with this mess. If anyone has to take the heat for it, it’s going to be you. Are we clear?”

“You can blame me all the way to the netherworld, Gina.”

“Good, I will.”

They heard more muffled banging from somewhere deep inside the ship, and Alara turned to look. “Maybe I should go back there and try to calm them down. . . .”

“Forget it. You’ll just rile them up more. Get me a spare flight suit from storage and then get back up here and help me pilot this bucket.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Alara said. As she walked down the dark, narrow corridor leading away from the cockpit, she thought,
At least now you won’t be alone out there, Ethan.

Chapter 14

“T
he frek! Who is this?” Sergeant Dorian demanded.

Ethan stood in the back of the transport, shaking his head incredulously as he listened to Alara’s hasty explanations over the intercom.
What are you doing here, Alara?
He hadn’t realized that she was joining the mission, and he was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to be piloting
this
particular transport. He hoped she wasn’t commandeering it in order to keep him away from Brondi; that would get them both into even more trouble, but it would be just like her to go charging into the middle of things without a second’s hesitation. Her emotions had always ruled her decisions. If he didn’t know better, he’d have said she was her old self again.

Another female speaker came on the intercom, and Ethan thought he recognized that one, too, but at the moment he couldn’t remember from where. “It’s all right, Sergeant, had some confusion on this end with my greeny copilot, but we’re good to go now.”

Ethan placed the voice a second later—Gina Giord. He’d flown with her a few times during the battle to escape Dark Space. He smiled, reassured. Whatever was going on, it was nothing to worry about if she was involved. Ethan watched Aleph Squad milling about, banging on hatches, cussing, and yelling to be let out.

“Relax!” Ethan said. “You’re in capable hands. I know these pilots.”

“Yea?” Sergeant Dorian turned to him. Ethan couldn’t make out the man’s expression through his faceplate, but he imagined a smirk. “Do I care if you know them, Private Ortane?”

“Probably not, but you’re giving me a headache, so I thought it was worth mentioning.”

Dorian laughed. “For all your smug krak, I’m going to enjoy watching your armor peeled open with plasma. You’re not a vanguard because you earned it, laser bait. You’re a vanguard because the admiral made you one, and he said he doesn’t want you to come back from this mission, so I can personally guarantee that you won’t.”

Ethan held his peace. There was no point riling the sergeant further. The intercom crackled again a few minutes later, and Gina said, “We’re launching in 30 seconds. Buckle up, ladies.”

A few sniggered at that while others took umbrage and made their displeasure known
.
Gina replied to their protestations: “Calling you brutes
ladies
was a compliment, but a real lady would have known that, so I guess it was undeserved.”

Ethan smiled behind his faceplate. Gina Giord was a fine example of a female officer who lived by the chauvinistic motto,
anything a man can do, I can do better.
After seeing the way she flew a nova, and watching her still run and fight after breaking half her ribs during their escape from the
Valiant
, he couldn’t really argue the point.

The next voice which came over the intercom was Alara’s. “Ethan?” she said.

He frowned, wondering why she would single him out. That wasn’t going to make him any more popular with his squad.

“Yes, Alara?” he called back, ignoring the few helmets which turned his way, their expressions inscrutable behind their dark, reflective blue faceplates.

“Immortals be with you,” she said.

“Likewise, Kiddie.”

A moment later, the man standing in the docking station beside Ethan’s said, “Sounds like you have a guardian angel in the cockpit.”

Angel,
Ethan thought grimly. That man didn’t know how right he was. He turned to address the man and noted the holographic insignia glowing on his matte black shoulder plate—two glittering bronze chevrons overlaid on a black shield. Those chevrons marked him as a corporal in the sentinels and the glowing red cross above them indicated he was the squad medic. Scrawled across the bottom of his insignia was his squad designation,
Aleph Seven
. Ethan inclined his head to acknowledge the man, and then looked away as the ship began to rumble and vibrate around them. Amidst the rising whine of the transport’s engines, came a soft
ca-clunk
, and then stars appeared on the other side of the pinhole viewports which lined the opposite side of the transport between mech docking stations.

Ethan smiled anew.
I’m coming for you, Brondi.

*  *  *

Brondi was back on the bridge of the
Valiant,
staring alternately between the dark surface of Ritan and an ever-narrowing slice of star-studded space. They were in a deteriorating orbit, slowly drifting toward the planet, and power
still
hadn’t been restored to his ship! At this rate they’d crash before that happened. Brondi had returned from the reactor room over an hour ago. When he’d left, his engineers had assured him that the reactor would be back online and power would be restored soon. As for the inertial management system, apparently it had been hit with a whole crate of proximity mines, but while Brondi had been trapped in the reactor room, some of his engineers had made themselves useful by reconfiguring the carrier’s SLS interrupter field as a backup IMS. Now they’d rededicated their efforts to the damaged reactor, and the greasers assured him that both power and gravity would be restored soon . . . whenever
that
was.

That was the good news—they probably wouldn’t crash into Ritan and all die in a fiery explosion. The bad news was that Captain Thornton was in a coma in the med bay with no sign of when, if ever, he was going to wake up, and until he did, Brondi would have to find another stand-in to wear the overlord’s holoskin.

The whole situation was a mess, and to make matters worse, they’d found no sign of the Sythian stowaway or
stowaways
who’d caused it all. One of the mech squads had reported a missing escape pod near the reactor room, however, so Brondi was hoping that meant the kakard had ejected himself into space. Brondi’s eyes narrowed on a particularly bright cluster of stars. He watched them twinkle and dance.

“Sir, teams four and six report they’re almost ready to restore power. . . . and . . . one of our watch stations just reported in. They’ve found a rescue team from the Admiral’s fleet. They’re dead sir.”

“What?” Brondi whirled from the viewports to see his comm officer gazing up at him. “Why am I only hearing about this after my men have killed them?” Brondi demanded.

“They didn’t. It would appear the rescue team ran into a mine trap laid by our saboteur.”

“Frek,” Brondi muttered “We’d better comm the admiral to explain.” The comm officer stared dumbly at him. “Well? What are you waiting for? Call them!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Audio only. If they want video, tell them we’re having technical difficulties due to the sabotage. And if they want to talk to the overlord, tell them he’s in the med bay being treated for some minor injuries.”

“Yes, sir.”

Brondi scowled. “What a frekking mess!”

“The main reactor is online!” the chief engineer reported, and with that the dim red emergency lighting was replaced with a comparatively blinding brightness. A cheer went up from the crew. “IMS is coming back online!” the engineer reported next. “Dialing up in ten.”

The comm officer began an audible countdown over the ship’s intercom and Brondi got ready to turn off his grav gun. The countdown reached zero, and he snapped off the gun’s field emitter. When his feet didn’t float free of the deck, he nodded and said, “Good work.” Now things could get back to normal. “Engineering, run a full systems check. We’d better make sure nothing else was sabotaged. Comms, contact the admiral before they wonder too much about their missing men.”

“Yes, sir,” they chorused.

“Gravidar, report—what have we missed out there?” Brondi turned back to the viewports to watch the stars twinkle and dance while he waited for his gravidar officer to reply.

“Ah . . . sir, I’m reading two dozen assault transports and a squadron of novas headed our way. They’re almost on us, sir.”

Brondi blinked, and suddenly he realized the stars he was looking at weren’t stars at all. Those bright points of light were the engine glows of approaching ships.

Why would they send out assault transports?
Turning away from the viewports once more, he said,
“Comms! Have you reached the admiral yet?”

“No, sir. They’re not responding to our hails.”

“Then make contact with the approaching ships! Ask them to state their intentions.” Brondi stalked up to the captain’s table to see the situation for himself.

“Yes, sir. . . .” the comm officer replied.

When Brondi reached the captain’s table, he took one look at the enemy formation and shook his head. The admiral’s forces were spread out into six groups—one for each of the
Valiant’s
hangar bays. Coming to a decision, he looked up from the holo table and turned to the nav station. “Helm, start spooling the SLS. Set course for Dark Space.”

“We’re leaving, sir?”

“Yes, we’re leaving! With all possible speed.”

“The transports are not responding to our hails either. . . .”

“Forget that! Sound a red alert—engineering, power our shields to maximum, but leave weapons alone for now. I don’t want them to start treating us as a hostile target just yet.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Weapons! Tell our gunners to use ripper cannons only. Have them mark their targets, and wait until they’re close. We fire on my mark.”

“Yes, sir.”

Brondi scowled behind his helmet.
Thought you could surprise me, did you, Admiral? We’ll see who surprises who.

*  *  *