The Army Of Light (Kestrel Saga) (23 page)

    
“Believe me, if you were a prize, you’d be a consolation one,” he muttered into
the sensor screen.

    
“What? What did you just say?”

    
Before Shawn could reply, the Temkorian’s angry voice squealed through the
intercom speaker. “Her current disposition means very little to me, Captain.
It’s only required that she continue to breathe—at least, for the time being.”

    
“For the last time: she’s claimed, Temkorian. Frag off,” Shawn said in his most
authoritative tone. “And you can tell Jack I said so.”

    
“Why waste the call when I already have his response, Captain,” the voice
replied arrogantly. Without warning two more blasts of green energy rocketed past 
Sylvia’s
Delight
, far closer than the last, and out into space. The proximity of the
rounds caused the Mark-IV to shake momentarily as the density of space around
the
Hypervarion
transport was temporarily disrupted.

    
“What are those green laser thingies made of?” Melissa asked as she continued
to squeeze the armrests of the copilot’s chair.

    
“Highly agitated energetic plasma.”

    
“And… what will it do if it hits us?”

    
“Ever seen a piece of wood after a termite gets to it?”

    
“A long time ago, but yeah, sure.”

    
“Well, we’ll be that piece of wood if we get hit with one of those things. The
hull will become very brittle, easily susceptible to the vacuum of space.”

    
“Then I suggest we try to avoid that outcome,” she replied smartly.

    
He looked to her irritably, momentarily forgetting the Temkorian on the
communications channel. “We shouldn’t even be here in the first place! What do
they want with you, anyway?”

    
Melissa pondered the question quietly. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you what they
want, but I can tell you what
I
want.”

    
“And what’s that?”

    
“I’d very much like to live to see my next birthday, so can we please leave?”

    
He shrugged.
“Afraid not.
We can’t initiate the jump
drive right now.”

    
“And why is that?” Her tone was anything but pleased.

    
“Because of this,” Shawn said, hitting two buttons near one of the small
computer displays embedded in the console in front of Melissa. The screen was
displaying a top-down view of their current position, with 
Sylvia’s
Delight
 directly in its center. The four Temkorian fighters were red
blips buzzing around the ship like angry wasps. At a second touch of the
buttons, a bright yellow filter was applied to the real-time image. It floated
across the screen as if someone has spilled water on the display until it fully
obscured the original image. As the filter began to fade, Melissa noticed a
greenish blob surrounding the Mark-IV for a distance of nearly five-hundred
feet.

    
“A dampening field?”
She asked uncertainly. “How did
you know?”

    
“Because I tried to engage the jump system the second I saw the fighters on the
sensors. The Temkorian’s must have known what I was planning to do, because
they flooded the area with ionizing particles as soon as they were within
range,” he took his eyes away from the screen and looked back in hers. “We
aren’t going anywhere fast, so long as those bastards out there have us in
their net.”

    
“So, that’s all you’ve got?” she said in protest. “I was hoping for something
more.”

    
“What do you mean?” the captain asked calmly, visually scanning the space
beyond the view port and waiting for the Temkorian’s to make their next move.

    
“Well, aren’t you supposed to be some kind of great pilot or something?”

    
He turned his attention back to the scanners, rolling his head slightly from
side to side. “I’m pretty fair when it comes to most things being equal.”

    
“Well, it’s just that I had no idea you were so easily beaten.”

    
He snapped his head in her direction. “What the heck does that mean?”

    
“Well, didn’t you know they were capable of neutralizing our engines?”

    
“If you’re asking if I knew they could disable the jump drive, then no.
However, our maneuvering engines are still at one-hundred percent.”

    
“So, you’re just going to sit here like a lame duck and wait for them to do who
knows what else?”

    
That’s because I don’t have
a
clue what we’re going to do about
it.
 ”I’m putting the final touches on my plan right now.”

    
“Well please, Mister Kestrel. Don’t keep the audience in suspense. We’re all
waiting on pins and needles to see what you’ll do next.”

    
Shawn unbuttoned the top clasp of his shirt and withdrew a small gleaming
object on the end of a chain. Although Melissa couldn’t precisely see what he
was touching, she noticed that he absently began rubbing it between his index
finger and thumb.

    
“Oh, no,” she said, sighing heavily and rubbing her forehead with the palm of
her hand. “Please don’t tell me you believe in good luck charms, too, Captain.”

    
“Can’t say that I do.
But, I am pretty partial to the
power of prayer.” He briefly held the charm aloft for Melissa’s inspection. She
could clearly see that the silver charm was, in fact, an undecorated crucifix.
“So, if you wouldn’t mind saying one or two, I’m sure we’d all be a lot better
off for it.”

    
She was stunned. “Assuming I’m going to humor you on this, it’s been a long
time since I’ve gone to church. I’m not sure if I know how to start.”
Suddenly 
Sylvia’s Delight
 jolted sideways as the Temkorian
fighter let loose a blast that grazed the top of the
ships
hull. The Mark-IV jerked down abruptly,
then
twisted
to starboard, sending several loose items that hadn’t been tied down crashing
behind Melissa’s seat. She instinctively closed her eyes tightly and began
shouting in rapid-fire succession, holding onto her armrests with all of her
strength.
“Oh God, Oh Lord, Oh merciful One!”

    
“That’s good enough for me.” Shawn touched the engine auxiliary burner control
and, throwing the stick hard forward, sent 
Sylvia’s Delight
 into
a plunge that would’ve caused the toughest of veteran pilots to lose their
lunch. 

*          
*           *

    
Melissa attempted to scream, but was silenced as her stomach tried in desperately
to exit her body through her mouth. The Mark-IV continued to spiral down for
what seemed like an eternity, the ships artificial gravity struggling to keep
the occupants in one piece.

    
Of all of the thoughts rushing through Melissa Graves’s mind, the prevailing
one seemed to be that if she made it out of this maneuver alive, the first
thing she was going to do was kill Shawn Kestrel. She would then make a solemn
vow to never again go on amusement park rides.

    
For nearly a full minute 
Sylvia’s Delight
 continued in her
spiraling plunge, then Shawn pulled back hard on the stick in an attempt to
right the craft. 
D
 bucked in a teeth jarring shudder as
inertial stabilizers fought desperately against the gravity generators. Once
the craft was reasonably stable, Shawn rechecked all of the instruments. The
Temkorian that was on their stern was trying desperately to catch up. The other
fighters seemed to have vanished from the scope altogether.

    
Melissa, succeeding in catching her breath and keeping her lunch down after
several hard swallows, tried to speak. “Mister Kestrel, if you ever do that
again—”

    
She was cut off as Shawn slammed the control stick sideways, causing the large
craft to do a series of perfectly timed barrel rolls in the vacuum of space.
Another volley of green bolts from the Temkorian fighter passed through the
Mark-IV’s previous location without so much as a scratch on her already
chipped exterior paint.

    
As soon as Shawn righted the craft, Melissa glared at him angrily. “Stop doing
that!” she shouted.

    
“You see? This is what I’m talking about. You really need to calm down there,
crazy lady.”

    
“I. Am. Not.
Crazy!
”

    
Shawn slid the stick to the left and right, trying to deny the Temkorian
fighter a clear shot at his tail. “I’ll bet you were the hit of all of the
asylum parties,” he said aloud as he tried desperately to shake the enemy
fighter. “You probably wowed them with your amazing skills at finger painting
or shadow puppets.”

    
“Mister Kestrel!” She yelled, still holding on to her armrest for dear life.

    
Shawn pulled back the stick hard, causing the Mark-IV to do a tight nose-over.
He grunted as the internal gravity tried to pull the blood out of his feet and
into his cranium. “I’ll bet you were the loudest voice in the Old MacDonald
sing-along.”

    
Melissa’s hair flopped over the front of her face as Shawn attempted to
stabilize the Mark-IV. “If you would please just shut-up and fly!”

    
“Listen, I can’t talk and fly this bucket at the same time, so you’ll have to
put on your own straight jacket for once and keep quiet!”

    
Amazingly, the captain now had 
Sylvia’s
Delight
 lined
up perfectly on the more maneuverable Temkorian’s tail. Shawn flipped a series
of toggle switches on the overhead console. Externally, two large panels on
either side of the ships ventral surface slid back, giving the long laser
cannons ample room to slide out and lock into place.

    
“Trent,” Shawn sang into the intercom. “Are the lasers primed?”

    
“They sure are. You’ve got maybe two shots each.”

    
“That’s not enough to get through their armor, Captain, and you know it!”
Melissa snapped.

    
Shawn paid her little mind. “Trent, how about I have exactly two shots each or
you’re fired.”

    
“Well, as they say ‘you can wish in one hand and in the other you can—”

    
“Yeah, I know what they say. Just give me two solid rounds.”

    
“I can divert energy from the engines if you want—”

    
“No, I need all the maneuverability I can get right now. Whatever Toyo charged
the cannons with will have to be enough. Your priority now is to keep those
engines going.” He closed the channel before his engineer could say something
arguably witty. He briefly regarded Melissa as he tried to keep the Temkorian’s
tail directly
inline
with his targeting sensors. “By
the way, since when did you become the expert in the thickness of Temkorian
armor?”

    
“Doesn’t matter,” she replied. “I’m still right.”

    
He did have to concede that, however she’d obtained the knowledge, she was
indeed right. “Regardless, I’m not aiming to kill him… just slow him down a
little.”

    
“How?”

    
Her eyes fell on the targeting display in front of Shawn. The targeting scanner
on his computer switched from green to a beautiful amber. “Like this,” he said
cheerfully as he flipped up the toggle on the end of his control stick and
pressed the unassuming yellow button. A long beam of blue laser light emitted
from the tips of each of the cannons, meeting perfectly at the starboard engine
cone of the Temkorian fighter. The nozzle erupted in a shower of red and yellow
sparks as the beams neatly severed the cone, causing it to drift slowly away
from the fighter.

    
“The Temkorian’s design their fighters in such a way that all of
there
weapon power is channeled through both engine reactor
cores simultaneously.”

    
“Huh?” she asked in stunned amazement as 
Sylvia’s Delight
 banked
slowly to starboard and departed the Temkorian fighter to drift away helplessly.

    
“It’s a flawed design that few people know about,” he said calmly as he checked
his scope for the remaining fighters. “When one engine goes offline, the whole
fighter becomes a floating brick. The pilots are unable to reroute power into
the good engine.”

    
She looked at him in disbelief.

    
He smiled wearily. “Well, you hear the strangest things in bars sometimes. You
never know what a drunken pilot might say, or when those words might become
useful.”

    
“You mean,” she began in shock, “that you’ve never done that before?”

    
“No, but the theory seemed sound enough. Besides, it worked, didn’t it?”

    
“Well,” Melissa began, straightened her posture after a moment and attempting
to repair her disheveled hair, “I guess I should take back what I said about
your flying abilities. You really are quite—”

    
“Hold that thought for a second,” he snapped as he sent the Mark-IV banking to
port. When the internal gravity generator failed to compensate in time,
Melissa’s hair wafted down and nearly hit Shawn in the side of his face.

    
Melissa let out a loud “
Whooooaaaaaa
!” as the Mark-IV
righted itself for a split second before the captain banked the ship hard to
starboard.

    
“You don’t need to reaffirm your skills, Mister Kestrel. I’m willing to concede
your flying abilities.”

    
“I’m not trying to prove anything! I’m trying to save our lives! This maneuver
is called a split-S. It’s used to evade missiles… like the one that’s hot on
our tail right now!” he shouted, continuing to juke the ship back and forth.

    
“What does the ‘S’ stand for?
Stupid?
Because that’s
how I’m starting to feel about trusting you!”

    
The Mark-IV slid left and right as the missile attempted to find its intended
target. What had initially been a small rhythmic vibration in the control stick
was quickly becoming a more pronounced tremble.