Dark Space: Origin (46 page)

Ethan gestured warningly with the sidearm Atton had given him, but the admiral didn’t appear interested in taking control of the ship—he’d been remarkably subdued ever since he’d realized that his actions had exposed Dark Space to the coming slaughter.

The comms beeped with an incoming message, but Atton ignored it.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Hoff asked.

“It’s from the
Tauron
. I don’t want your illegitimate twin to realize I’m the one flying this ship.”

“At least play the message. You don’t have to respond.”

Atton sighed and stabbed the transmit button. The admiral’s voice hissed through the comm speakers in an angry whisper. “
Last Chance,
stay with Brondi! His formation will protect you better than ours. The
Tauron
has a new mission.” The next part of the message was so soft that they had to strain hard to hear it over the distant sounds of battle echoing through the corvette’s speakers. “It’s a one way trip. Make sure my family is safe, and say goodbye to them for me. Admiral Heston out.”

“He knows he’s about to die. . . .” Atton whispered. “What is he planning to do?”

Ethan heard a rustle of noise and turned to see the cloned admiral suddenly leap out of his chair.

“Atton!” Ethan warned as he squeezed off a quick shot. The stun bolt missed, and glanced off the transpiranium viewport before slamming into the bulkhead beside his own head. Ethan belatedly flinched away from the light and sound before taking aim again, but his hand shivered and shook. His condition was deteriorating rapidly, and he could barely keep his eyes open, let alone aim.

Atton ducked away from the admiral’s grasping hands, but Hoff hadn’t been reaching for him, he’d been reaching for the comm controls, and now he stabbed the transmit/reply button and screamed into the audio pick up, “Admiral, they’re not on board!”

Atton recovered and shoved Hoff away from the controls. He bounced off the bulkhead and went sprawling to the deck.

Ethan took aim once more, but Hoff raised his hands. “I surrender! There’s no need to stun me. You can strap me down in the back again if you want.”

Atton whirled on Hoff after he ended the comm connection. “What the frek was that about?”

“He doesn’t know our family is still on board the
Tauron
, Atton. He deserves to know who will be going down with him, don’t you think?”

Atton gritted his teeth and shook his head. “Sit down and buckle up! We have enough to worry about without you trying to mutiny.”

“I won’t give you any more trouble. I promise.”

“Good!”

“What are you going to do?” Hoff asked.

“We’re going to follow the
Tauron
. Slim chance of survival or not, she’s still our best shot. I don’t trust Brondi not to turn on us as soon as we’re away.”

Ethan shot a quick glance out the forward viewport to see a quartet of approaching missiles. “Look out!” he yelled just as the missile lock alarm screamed at them.

Atton sat down in a hurry and began an evasive pattern which sent them barrel rolling over top of the approaching alien missiles. They couldn’t be shot down, but at least they could be dodged.

“Atton,” Ethan croaked. “Alara is on board the
Valiant.
We can’t leave her there.”

Atton shook his head. “I’m sorry. If we all make it to the rendezvous, maybe we can find a way to get aboard and rescue her.”

“The admiral isn’t headed for the rendezvous, Atton,” Hoff’s clone replied. “Whatever he’s planning, it’s no longer to escape. We’re going deeper into the Sythian formation now.”

*  *  *

Atta screamed as the lights flickered. Another
boom
rumbled through the walls and floor. Destra hugged her daughter tight as they sat on the living room couch, listening to dishes rattling in their racks. A foot stool which wasn’t bolted to the deck shifted a few inches to the right.

“Oh, no!” they heard HTX4 say from the kitchen, followed by the sound of something falling to the floor with a
crash.
“I’m so sorry, madam! I’ll clean it up at once.”

Destra nodded distractedly and said, “Don’t worry about it, HTX.”

They heard him sweeping shattered fragments of something into a collection tray.

“I’m scared, Mommy,” Atta said, squeezing Mr. Tibbins so tight that she’d be strangling the life out the diger if it were real.

“It’s all right, darling. Shhh,” Destra cooed. “It’s just thunder.”

“What’s th-under?” Atta asked, her tongue tripping over the unfamiliar word.

Destra smiled bitterly. Atta had never known what it was like to live on a real planet. “It’s something normal that we don’t need to be afraid of,” she said, meanwhile, her eyes darted nervously around the room, as if expecting the walls to cave in on them at any moment. Her gaze fell on the nearby viewport, and suddenly she worried that something might break it, but then she remembered that it was only a simulated viewport—like the dark sky in the garden outside.

Destra saw the endless wall of Sythian ships they faced, and she tried not think about how badly outmatched they were. Out-going comms were still restricted from the admiral’s quarters, but that hadn’t stopped Destra from listening in to the open-channel commcasts. She’d overheard enough to know about the Sythian ambush and the cease fire between Brondi and Hoff. She knew how bad things were out there. And she knew what the odds were that they’d make it out alive.

“We have to go, Atta,” Destra decided.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“We’re going to find your father.” Destra stood up from the couch where they were sitting and dragged Atta along by her hand, heading for the door.

“I don’t want to go!” Atta screamed.

“We don’t have a choice, Atta!”

Destra winced as she experienced a sudden flash of déjà vu to a time not so long ago when she had been running away with Atton under similar circumstances. Back then she hadn’t been able to run to Ethan for help, but right now she
did
have Hoff, and it was time for him to know that his family was still on board.

If nothing else, at least they would all be together when they died.

Chapter 31

“T
hey’re not on board, Admiral!” When Hoff heard that warning come through his comm piece, he felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. After a long moment, he replied,
“What do you mean they’re not on board?”
but only static answered. The warning had come from his clone, but the
Last Chance
had abruptly broken contact. Hoff wasn’t sure if they weren’t answering because of a struggle on board the ship, or because his clone was afraid their conversation would be overheard and their secret discovered.

They’re not on board
. Those words echoed ominously through his thoughts, and suddenly he was afraid. Here he was, taking the
Tauron
on a suicidal mission through enemy lines, thinking that at least his family was safely away aboard his corvette, but not only had the
Last Chance
followed the
Tauron
on its suicidal flight path—it didn’t even have his family on board!

Hoff shook his head and looked up at the blinding flurry of explosions rippling across the
Tauron’s
hull. Everything Hoff knew and loved was about to be destroyed. Abruptly Atta appeared in his mind’s eye. Her gray eyes, dark hair, and impishly smiling face made his throat ache, and suddenly he felt like he couldn’t breathe.
Atta
.

He’d made copies of her and Destra on Fortress Station, but somehow that did nothing to ease his mind. They would live on—months from now his whole family, including him would spring up like perennial flowers, coming out of stasis aboard Fortress Station, but would it really be them? Or would his little girl and his wife really die here with him today?

When it had just been him cloning himself, it had been easier to believe that clones and recorded memories were enough to cheat death, but now that he had to trust that system to preserve his loved ones, too . . . the answers didn’t seem so clear.

“Shields down to 47%!” engineering reported as the deck shuddered violently underfoot. The muffled
boom
of that explosion told Hoff the damage was worse this time. “Hull breaches on decks four and five!”

“Seal it off!” Hoff ordered, snapping out of his reverie. Maybe if they crippled the Sythian command ship, the Gors would stop firing on them. Tova was ambivalent about that, but it was their only chance, and the only chance Dark Space had, too.

“Comms, tell Inferno Squadron to keep those shell fighters distracted! We can’t survive this kind of punishment for long—Tova!” Hoff turned to her. She and Roan still stood under guard on the bridge. “Can’t you tell them to miss every now and then? If we never get a chance at that command ship, your people stay in slavery.”

“I try,” she said, closing her eyes. Hoff watched the alien’s lips move, but he heard no sound escape, as if she were saying a prayer to some Gor deity.

Hoff turned back to his crew. “Gravidar! Where are those updated coordinates I asked for?”

“Coming now, sir . . .”

Hoff saw the coordinates for the estimated location of the Sythian command ship change position on the captain’s table. That point had been drifting more or less toward them at a constant 200 meters per second, while still keeping its distance from the overall battle, just as Hoff would expect from a cloaked command ship. He’d told the officer at the helm to keep their distance and not fly directly toward it, just in case the Sythians became suspicious of his new heading. Assuming the coordinates they’d pinpointed actually represented the cloaked Sythian command ship, it wouldn’t be a good idea to let them know they’d been discovered.

Almost there,
Hoff thought, watching as their range to target dropped to 45 klicks. The timing would be critical. Their only chance was to hit that cloaked ship
hard
, before it dropped its cloaking shield and put up real defensive shields. But even then, the alien command ship’s armor had to be very strong.
How do you destroy a 30 kilometer-long warship with one that’s just a hundredth of the size?
Hoff wondered.

Not only was he gambling everything on the chance that they’d actually found one of the Sythians’ elusive behemoth-class cruisers, but he was gambling that they could do some serious damage to it, too.

Hoff turned to his comms officer. “Send a message to all our ships—including the
Interloper.
On our mark they are to fire everything they’ve got at the coordinates we send them.”

“Yes, sir.”

The next thing anyone heard over the muted sounds of battle was the
swish
of the bridge doors opening. Hoff turned to look and saw a pair of sentinels stride in. Someone else walked in behind them, but Hoff couldn’t see past the sentinels’ bulky armor. Then they peeled away to guard either side of the entrance, and Hoff saw who had come in with them.

“Daddy!” Atta cried.

“Shhh,” Destra said, holding their daughter back as her gaze found Tova and Roan in their swaddling white robes.

Another boom shook the deck, and the bright flash of a nearby explosion lit up the bridge. Now, seeing his family, and knowing the odds they all faced, Hoff was confronted with a much more visceral reminder of what he risked losing; they would all die if this plan failed, or if the Gors had lied—if their calculations were off, or if they simply didn’t have enough firepower to cripple the command ship.

That was a lot of ifs. But it was too late to turn back now.

“We are in range of the target,” gravidar announced.

Hoff nodded absently, his eyes on Atta. “Transmit coordinates to the rest of our ships, and tell them to open fire on that point in exactly ten seconds.” Hoff slowly turned away from his daughter. “Weapons—stand by, and get ready to give them everything we’ve got!”

*  *  *

Ethan listened with half an ear to the latest transmission from the
Tauron.
All the admiral’s forces had just been
ordered to open fire on at some unknown target in exactly ten seconds. The coordinates appeared on the grid, but Ethan’s eyes refused to focus. He was too distracted by the pain radiating from the odd half a dozen different places where shrapnel had cut him. He felt very weak, and he had to fight to stay conscious, but whether that was from blood loss or something worse, he wasn’t sure. From the way the cloned admiral stared at him, he was sure he must have looked as bad as he felt.

“Atton,” the clone said. “Let me take the controls for a while.”

“That’s not going to happen, Hoff.”

“You need to see to your father.”

Ethan grimaced. “Shut up, Hoff. I’m fine.”

Atton turned to look at him, and his expression went from grim and determined to pale and uncertain. The boy hesitated a second longer, but then he nodded. “Okay.”

Ethan shook his head, trying to fight back as Atton half lifted and half carried him out of the cockpit.

“Stop struggling, Dad.”

“I told you; I’m fine.”

“Then you haven’t seen yourself. Come on, don’t be difficult.”

Barely a second later they heard the corvette’s guns firing, and Ethan turned back to the cockpit to see missiles and lasers streaking out toward some target they couldn’t see. Their view had changed from the blinding blue glow of the
Tauron’s
thruster banks to dark, star-speckled space, and now that they were no longer safely hidden in the battleship’s wake, missile lock alarms screeched and wailed through the cockpit speakers.

“Forget about me, Atton,” Ethan said, shaking his head. “We’re all about to die anyway.”

Atton turned away from the cockpit with a grimace and carried him along once more. “Even if that’s true, I’m not going to let you die any sooner than you have to. Come on. Our lives are in Hoff’s hands for now.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not working,” Ethan replied.

Atton smiled grimly. “Point taken.”

*  *  *

Captain Loba Caldin shook her head and frowned as the admiral’s target appeared on the grid with a timer beside it, counting down from ten. As soon as it reached zero, they were supposed to open fire with everything they had, but the target coordinates were located in empty space. “What is this?” Caldin asked.

“He’s clearly lost his mind,” Adram said.

“That—” Caldin said, “—or he’s found a cloaked ship. The Sythians’ command ship, perhaps?”

Adram looked up with dark, glittering eyes. “You know we cannot detect cloaked vessels, Captain.”

“Maybe Hoff found a way.”

“Captain, even if that’s true, the admiral isn’t thinking about the thousands of men he has on board this ship. If we open fire, we’re all as good as dead—it’s too dangerous for us to reveal ourselves.”

Caldin frowned. “So we run off on our own.”

“That is my recommendation.”

“Let’s give them one volley,” Caldin said. “We can always cloak again afterward.”

Adram held her gaze for just a moment before he turned and nodded to the pair of sentinels standing beside the bridge doors. Those were his men. Caldin felt a flutter of trepidation, and she drew her sidearm in a blur, but not nearly fast enough. She heard a sharp
screech
and then her right side exploded with a searing pain. She bit back a scream, and the world seemed to tip upside down as she fell to the deck.