Star Brigade: The Supremacy (SB3) (23 page)

He gestured at the small planet on the viewscreen. “Thoughts?”

Marguliese glanced briskly, her right eye flashing like a jagged blue starburst. “Unimpressive.”

After bypassing normal memberworld entry safeguards with their broadcasted military ID, the
Phaeton
entered Faroor’s thick atmosphere and headed for Thasque.

“How’s the team?” Habraum asked a little later.

“You can ask them yourself,” Solrao added dozily, earning a sharp look from Habraum. “Oops! I’ll stick to piloting.” Solrao turned back to the nav controls and gave
Phaeton
an extra kick of speed toward Faroor.

“Most are unperturbed, gathering any data needed for the mission,” Marguliese informed.

Habraum nodded, then broached a topic needling at him for days, “Something happen between you and Tharydane?”

Marguliese’s golden features usually remained emotionless. However, Habraum noted a shift of a subtle distaste on her face whenever discussing Sam D’Urso. “Samantha should keep her ward under tighter restraint. The girl had accessed the ObDeck to watch Tyris and I sparring two days ago. So I confronted Tharydane and verbally chastisted her transgression.”

The Cerc frowned. He liked Tharydane, but wandering about Hollus’s restricted areas was unacceptable. “You tell Samantha?”

“That same evening,” she said. “As expected, she grew antagonistic over my assessment of her parenting. Then Captain D’Urso utilized a string of obscenities—in both Standard Speak and Kedri Common Tongue.”

Sounds like Sammie.
Habraum almost laughed, if not for fearing the answer to his next question. “Was Jeremy with Tharydane in ObDeck?”

Marguliese arched an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“We’re hitting some turbulence,” Solrao warned before Habraum could respond. Her hands with their two opposable thumbs waved quickly across the nav controls. “Faroor’s been having mild skyquakes for months—”

Right away,
Phaeton
shook up and down as if something kept ramming into its underside, despite the vessel’s shock absorbers. Magnetstrapping himself to his seat, Habraum then motioned Marguliese briskly back to the bridge. Onscreen, the towering billows churned and darkened as
Phaeton
flew further into the atmosphere.

“
Rogguts
. You call that ‘mild’?” Habraum eyed Solrao in concern after another forceful shuddering. “Raise shields. ETA to the Thasque UComm base?”

“Shields up.” Solrao was all business. The jostling began to subside considerably. “ETA is in thirty-five macroms.”

Habraum furrowed his brow. “Try contacting—”

“Already did, sir,” Solrao interrupted. “Skyquake interference is disrupting comms. I can speed—”

Something savage and powerful smacked
Phaeton
’s port side, whirling the battle cruiser abruptly aboutface. Cockpit lights flickered and sputtered briefly.

“WHOA,” Solrao exclaimed droopily after regaining control. “Didn’t feel like a skyquake.”

“Something hit us.” Habraum scanned the viewscreen, seeing flashes in the towers of black, churning clouds surrounding them. “Get us out of this upper atmosphere!” The sliding door’s hiss signaled Marguliese’s exit.

Solrao dove, cutting through the skyquake rumblings, weaving around Faroor’s incoming and outgoing traffic lanes. Despite her incredible maneuvering, a thick and unnaturally serpentine bolt struck under
Phaeton’s
tail, knocking them forward into a full forward roll.

Habraum lunged forward to sweep his hand across the nav consoles, activating a number of smaller holoscreens around the main viewscreen. One gave view to
Phaeton’s
bridge.

“
—the Five Hells!
” Khrome bellowed on the screen, trying to steady himself. Marguliese was somehow standing secure, observing the goings-on outside with the TriTran. Habraum glimpsed Liliana securely in her seat, properly terrified. Khal, Tyris, and V’Korram were also seated and wary.

“Strap in, kids!” Habraum barked over
Phaeton
’s comms. “It’s gonna be bumpier than expected.”

“These lightning strikes appear exceedingly potent,” Marguliese deadpanned, barely alarmed by their situation.

The bullnecked Thulican wheeled around and glared at her. “It’s like we’re getting targeted—” Khrome’s golden eyes went impossibly wide. Habraum knew that look. “By the Twin Spheres!” Khrome exclaimed.

Marguliese eyed him with dawning recognition. “Are you construing what I am construing?”

“Yes. Move,” he ordered. Marguliese obeyed, and the Thulican began tacking furiously at the TriTran console. A number of holograms detailing the current weather patterns popped up in front of him.

Habraum’s attention was jarred back to the cockpit as another strike slammed into the ship’s nose.
Phaeton
weaved around several brilliant and immense forks of lightning, finally breaking out of the malformed billows…

…and barreled straight for a gigantic commercial starliner directly in front of them.

Solrao gasped and wrenched her hands to the right just in time—so close that Habraum saw each expertly etched letter of the SolluStar Spaceways logo on the titanic vessel’s starboard side—twisting and diving down. The Ibrisian continued narrowly ducking around several civilian vessels scattered by the skyquakes and lightning.

All the while Habraum remained calm and quiet, even as numerous superior aerial maneuvers that Solrao could have executed popped into his mind. However, the Cerc refrained from side-seat piloting. Since their time together in the AeroFleet, he trusted Solrao’s flying skills
almost
as much as his own.

Habraum instead watched the smaller holoscreens displaying
Phaeton’s
rear. Only flickering light flashed from the dark swell of clouds shrinking behind them.

“We’re clear,” he sighed in relief. A beep on the nav console’s comm signaled a message from the bridge. “Go ahead,” Habraum answered.

“Captain,” Khrome’s motorized voice came through clearly, “that was unlike any lightning I’ve ever seen from other planetary weather systems. Thanks to our shields, they didn’t cause physical damage besides minor superficial burns. But whatever exotic energy they were made of disrupted energy output of the ship’s systems— particularly the stellar drives.”

“He’s right, sir,” Solrao confirmed drowsily after inspecting her nav console. “We can’t stay up much longer unless we reset the output levels.”

“Khrome,” Habraum spoke to the comm systems. “How long will this reset take?”

“Fifteen to twenty macroms, after shutting down primary systems.”

“Ollrigh’.” Habraum scratched the back of his head. He disliked this, but what choice was there? “Take us just over Thasque, behind the cloud cover.”

“You sure?” Solrao countered, her eyes voicing more shock than her drowsy drawl.

“Won’t be for long,” Habraum replied amiably. “We’ll fix the issue and head for the base.”

Phaeton
began its slow descent. Habraum heard the angered bleeps coming from outside as countless lanes of hovercars scattered haphazardly to avoid the massive descending cruiser. The Cerc felt a twinge of guilt each time Solrao repeatedly said, “Sorry!” through gritted teeth to every hovercar.

“We’re here to help them, Solrao,” Habraum said with a sympathetic smile. “They can deal with us causing a spot of traffic.” His words noticeably calmed the pilot.

Once free of hovercar traffic,
Phaeton
now hovered behind a conveniently low haze of clouds.

Habraum was about to congratulate her until one of the smaller viewscreens caught his eye. Its focus happened to be on the heaving, moving throng of pedestrian traffic in downtown Thasque’s Supreme Commons. A hooded figure was slinking through the crowd, shorter than most. The Cerc caught the briefest glance of the face under the hood—a Farooqua lacking any normal pelt.

Habraum stood bolt upright.
A Ghebrekh?

Solrao, noticing the Cerc’s reaction, frowned. “What’s wrong?”

The hooded Farooqua vanished behind a gaggle of spectators. Sending V’Korram, Khrome, Tyris, or Marguliese down would draw too much attention in a crowd of mostly Ttaunz and humans. The Cerc bit back a curse. “Transmat me just beyond the crowd,” Habraum ordered, still fixated on the viewscreen.

Solrao peered at him curiously. “Sir? I’m about to shut down primary systems—”

“Get me down there. Now.” Habraum combed the viewscreen for his prey. “And scan for any other Ghebrekh.”

Solrao nodded obediently and activated the transmat protocol.

Moments later, Habraum shimmered into existence far below
Phaeton
. A few nearby pedestrians gaped. He ignored them and strode toward where he last saw the Farooqua.

It was mid-afternoon in Thasque city-state, the breeze gentle and warm. High above, Herope’s bright pink glare slowly burned the roiling storm clouds. Buildings in this part of Thasque stood no higher than ninety stories, most constructed with the Ttaunz’s pillared Neo-Classical architecture. Many edifices bore hedonistic mosaic portraits of famed Ttaunz on their walls. However, they were marred by the plethora of gigantic holo-billboards on the sides of or floating in between each building, all advertising products from other memberworlds.

Habraum stayed focused on that Farooqua. Mostly Ttaunz milled about, looking as if they constantly smelled rotten food. Ttaunz males donned flowing robes of Pallanorian chael and long hair in ludicrous braided styles. The females in turn wore their hair short and spiky while dressed in elegant sundresses and light coats. Other pedestrians included mostly humans, some Nnaxans with their tentacle-like craniowhisks, and a few other Union races.

Habraum combed through the crowd with his height advantage, right as a strange sensation prickled the edge of his thoughts. Habraum wheeled around and saw him, the Farooqua near a small fountain. As the crowd milled about
,
the Farooqua smoothly gestured his arms about with eyes closed in what resembled a kineticabulary prayer. At a glance the Cerc guessed his age to be fifteen, like Tharydane.

Habraum watched as the Farooqua flung open his robe, revealing an emaciated build, furless and sparsely tattooed. A throbbing red bulb was fused into his chest.

His eyes widened. He had studied enough footage of the Ghebrekh to recognize an impact bomb.

A Ghebrekh suicide bomber.
How did he sneak into the heart of downtown Thasque?

The Cerc glanced this way and that, weighing his miniscule options.

Warning the crowd would only create chaos and more collateral damage when the Ghebrekh detonated his bomb.

Transmatting the Ghebrekh away from downtown might work.
Habraum slapped his wristcom. “Reign to
Phaeton
,” he said quietly. Habraum heard only static.

This reduced his options to one.

The Brigadier captain slapped his wristcom again. In a bright shimmer, Habraum’s civilian clothes morphed into his white, green, and gold armored Star Brigade uniform—the flash suit. The Cerc grimaced and strode quickly, shouldering through the wall of pedestrians. Several beings stared at what to them was outlandish apparel. Habraum couldn’t care less. His attire was the least of their concerns...

He tactfully scanned the number of civilians between him and the suicide bomber, who hadn’t seen him yet. That moment, the crowd parted, giving Habraum a completely clear shot.

Make it quick. Make it count.
The Cerc aimed a glowing fist at the Ghebrekh to fire…

The Farooqua stretched one hand for the heavens, while the other reached for the bulbous red bomb on his chest—

A bright crimson burst of energy streaked forward, striking the Ghebrekh’s head off his shoulders.

Instant terror. The Farooqua’s body sank to the ground without a head, quickly trampled by screaming bystanders frantically rushing in every direction toward others either clueless or too slow to react.

“HALT,” a sonoramp-boosted voice roared. “Make no sudden movements.”

Habraum froze and glanced up. To his shock, half a dozen Ttaunz MetroPol officers floated just off the ground on sleek maroon hoverbikes, surrounding him. They wore golden helmets fashioned like sunbursts and carried long, blocky pulse rifles—each trained on various points of his body.

Are you greybricking me
? Habraum stood steadily against the frightened swell of Ttaunz shoving into him and slowly lowered his glowing fist. His thoughts were on getting that corpse. But he knew an explanation was needed. “Listen, I’m—”

The explosion rammed the Cerc from behind, a full-speed hovertram of unyielding force.

No heat or light—just a pure kinetic eruption mushrooming outward, knocking bystanders clean off their feet.

For a long moment, Habraum was weightless—until he slammed chest-first into a floating hoverbike. He felt his bones creak,
heard
the air rush from his lungs in a rattling wheeze.

The Cerc slid backward and landed hard on his shoulders. The screams sounded so far away…the sight of sentients lying on the ground or still standing began smearing together in one messy blur…

Where’s the pain
? All Habraum felt was a warm tingle creeping up the sides of his neck.

Then, he felt nothing…

Habraum slowly floated back up into the waking world…

…and collided into a world of hurt. Pain shot down his spine, filled every breath he took, and kept drilling at his forehead from inside his skull. In a twisted way, Habraum was grateful.
Pain means I’m not dead.
He attempted to wiggle his extremities. Ten fingers, ten toes, all working.

The images the Cerc saw when his eyes opened were fuzzy, running back and forth, panicked. But there was no sound, akin to someone hitting a mute button. Habraum focused on the closest figure, slender and female, kneeling over him with her hands on his chest. His vision soon sharpened and she came into focus: oval face with a cleft chin, short pixie-cut hair, worried brown eyes—Liliana Cortes in field uniform. Relief washed over Habraum. Lily’s lips moved, but no sound came out.

The doctor looked pale with worry under the pinkish glare of Faroor’s sun. She spoke again.