Authors: Gun Brooke
The thought of how the families and loved ones would react to having their missing family members home, without any warning, stung Roshan’s heart.
I would’ve given my soul to experience this all those years ago, before I realized that all hope was gone.
Scattered memories of her mother surfaced: how she’d touch her with a firm, but gentle hand, when she explained something. Her father, his cheerful smile, the way he adored her mother…
No. No, too painful right now. Don’t go there.
Roshan forced herself, like countless times before, to focus on the task at hand. She had hated the endless missions for so long, and it had been nearly impossible to keep her hopes and motivation alive for more than two decades. In the beginning the anticipation of finding out what had happened to her father sustained her. One day he simply didn’t come home from his work at the hospital, and she’d never managed to find out why. Potential scenarios had chased each other through her mind during sleepless nights, and they drove her nearly insane with worry and grief.
And now, the feelings are still there. Raw. Like a wound being ripped wide open.
“Yes,” Roshan finally managed to answer Andreia. “I imagine so.”
A discreet touch on the inside of Roshan’s arm startled her at first. She was trying so hard to focus on the space depicted on the view screen, to remain professional, but the mere touch, skin on skin, nearly made her lose control. “O’Daybo. Please,” she said, aware that she sounded as breathless and begging as she felt.
“You’ll be fine,
henshes
,” Andreia whispered. “You have me to lean on, and you’re not alone anymore.” The simple words penetrated Roshan’s defenses, and she placed her hand, palm on palm, with Andreia’s.
“Thank you,” she whispered back. Andreia’s promise took some of the immediate sting away.
“Paladin! Enemy vessels, at least six of them, at our port bow.” The captain rose from his chair. “The
Gallant
is moving in between us and them, again, but we have to stay on our set trajectory. Our guests won’t survive in our cargo holds for very long.”
“Steady as she goes, for now, Captain,” Paladin said, and let go of Andreia’s hand. “We need to get them closer to inner orbit before we take action.”
“Yes, ma’am. Maintaining course and speed.”
The
Iktysos
followed the SC ship on a parallel course.
“They’re gaining on us, Captain,” a young man said from the operations station. “At this rate they’ll be within firing distance in less than two minutes.”
“Give me a fifteen-seconds-interval countdown.” The middle-aged captain sat in his chair, looking grim and frowning.
Roshan walked closer to the screen, her eyes never wavering. The small armada of Onotharian ships looked more modern, and thus more lethal, than the ones that had attacked them just moments ago.
“One minute, thirty seconds until they’re in range, Captain.”
“Paladin to Jacelon. I suppose you see the new arrivals.”
“Jacelon here. I do. We’re prepared at our end. Good luck!”
“Thank you, so are we. Paladin out.”
“One minute, fifteen seconds.”
The seconds rushed by and Roshan counted every single one. She wanted to finish this; it was nerve-wracking to stand helplessly on the bridge, in relative safety, and merely watch, for now.
“Fifteen seconds,” the operations crewman said.
“This is it,” Roshan whispered. “They’re on top of the convoy.”
The
Iktysos
rocked and stomped underneath their feet, as proof of Roshan’s words. The anticipated attack had begun.
*
Kellen slid her visor down and scanned the information that streamed along her left field of vision, relayed from the
Gallant
. Normally a navigator handled the incoming data, but Kellen had opted to fly alone. Several of the SC navigators were wounded, and she’d flown solo when she trained in the Gantharian Academy of Pilots.
The data was in order and she opened communications. “Kellen to the
Gallant
. I’m ready to lead the assault craft team out of here. Are we concealed from the enemy?”
“Yes, the convoy has us in their shadow.”
“Good. Kellen to D’Artansis. Everything set?”
“I’m ready to kick some Onotharian rears, if that’s what you mean,” Leanne replied cheerfully. “It’s about time I get to come out and play with the big girls.”
Kellen smiled, reluctantly, but who could resist Leanne’s unwavering spirit? “Follow me, then.”
Leanne was the leader of one squadron, and Kellen of the other. Flying on parallel courses out of
Gallant’s
belly, they aligned themselves, as did the other twenty assault craft, ten on either side of Kellen and Leanne. Kellen checked her chronometer and synchronized it with the time given on her visor. “Fifteen seconds, D’Artansis. From now on, radio silence is in place.”
“Understood. D’Artansis out.”
They’d gone over the plan countless times while on their way to the Gantharat system, not knowing which scenario they’d end up in. Kellen trusted Leanne more than most people she knew, with the exception of Rae, and she now worried about the possibility of an overlooked flaw in her plan.
A yellow alert marker showed up on Kellen’s visor, and when it snapped over into red, she pushed her stick forward, dove underneath the convoy, and slingshot her ship out to the other side. Before her, seven ships of varying sizes approached them, as if the Onotharians had scrambled to their closest launch site and merely taken what was currently available. One of the ships was the type of prison transport that had taken her to Kovos, and she knew it had minimal fire power, since the Onotharians considered themselves invincible within Gantharian space.
As soon as Kellen spotted Leanne’s team, she pulled her assault craft into a steep climb, using the most elaborate of evasive patterns. She needed to get close enough to fire at the lead vessel, and unless she stayed away from their torpedoes, she wouldn’t live to tell the tale.
Four of the ships from the convoy took up defensive positions, and Kellen knew that she and the other assault-craft pilots had to keep the Onotharians focused on them. “SC assault craft. Move into position. Delta maneuvers.”
Like small beetles, the lethal vessels surrounded the enemy, moving in a constant, dizzying offensive pattern, designed and tried by Kellen during countless sessions in the simulators back on Earth. The Onotharians fired at them, but with poor result.
It may just work.
“All assault craft, fire at will, fire at will!”
Kellen pressed the sensor that spread a wide volley of plasma-pulse rounds against the Onotharians. Small explosions erupted, fires that were quickly extinguished by the vacuum in space. Light blue rays lit up the space between the Onotharians and the assault craft, and deep red ones steered toward the convoy.
The four smaller freighters in the convoy seemed to take the brunt of the attack, and Kellen pressed her lips into a fine line as she let her craft spew plasma charges over the rear of the largest Onotharian ship. The massive destroyer-class vessel veered to one side because of the explosions Kellen’s rounds created on its lower decks. Debris slammed into her craft, and she knew she was being careless, moving in too close for the kill.
Kellen easily recognized her inner urge to retaliate, not only for what the Onotharians had done to the poor people imprisoned on Kovos and Vaksses, and several other asteroid prisons, still to be liberated, but also to her father and Tereya. She bared her teeth in a growl while telling herself it was necessary to fly in so low in a death spiral under the belly of the Onotharian ships. Focusing so hard that her jaw cracked and sweat poured along her temples inside her helmet, Kellen fired a new set of rounds, a wide spread of plasma charges into one of the ship’s weapons’ array.
The impact of the explosion knocked the controls out of Kellen’s hand, and she spun wildly before her craft’s automatic stabilizers kicked in. Only then did Kellen realize she was caught in the direct line of fire. She pushed the controls, but her assault craft responded too slowly as it turned around, obviously damaged due to its slow reaction, when a red beam seared through the cockpit, right before her eyes.
Kellen flung her arms up, covering her face, and moments later her seat ejected with an immense force that hurled her into space.
Kellen could feel the sizzling in the front of her space-survival suit and knew it had sustained damage as well. She carefully opened her eyes and realized she hadn’t slowed down. Reaching down on both sides she tried to ignite the maneuvering thrusters, but they weren’t operational. Unless she slammed into another object, she’d keep going into the ring of asteroids behind her.
*
“Damn it! Kellen! What’s she doing?” Jacelon stopped cold and watched the view screen in horror. The small, shiny assault craft came out from under the Onotharians’ lead ship, spinning out of control. The small ship was headed straight into the field of fire. She couldn’t order a cease fire from her end, since the other assault craft and the convoy as well would be obliterated, and Kellen would still be in danger.
Jacelon was still hoping Kellen’s luck wouldn’t run out, that she’d slip through between the ships, when a blast hit Kellen’s craft and split it in two. The debris lit up very briefly, then scattered in all directions. “Kellen!” Jacelon gasped.
Not again! Déjà vu…
“Oh, God, no…” She quieted her pained murmur and turned to the ops ensign. “Life signs?”
The ensign didn’t have to ask whose. “I still get a clear reading of the commander’s biosignature. She’s alive, ma’am, and the force field bubble is operational. However...” She punched in a few more commands, and Jacelon wanted to grab the young woman’s arm and yell at her to hurry up. “Commander O’Dal’s space suit is damaged and so are her thrusters. She won’t be able to command the ejected chair.”
Jacelon didn’t have to hear anything more. If she’d had another ship available, she’d have gone after Kellen herself. However, this wasn’t possible since all accessible ships were engaged in the ongoing space battle. “Jacelon to D’Artansis. Kellen’s ejected and is on a collision course. We’re sending you the coordinates now.” The ensign nodded affirmatively behind her console. “Do you have them, Commander?”
“I do.”
“Go after her, Leanne.” Jacelon heard the catch in her own voice. No way would she lose Kellen now when they’d nearly completed their mission.
She’s supposed to go home to Armeo with me, victorious after rescuing all these people.
“I’ll get her, ma’am.”
“She doesn’t have long. Her space suit’s been compromised.”
“I’m on it. D’Artansis out.”
*
Kellen struggled to tighten her harness, afraid she’d be knocked off the ejector seat if she hit something rear first. She found it increasingly difficult to breathe because the plasma splatter turned into miniscule droplets that corroded the pressurized suit and created small holes. Although her helmet, attached to the tank on the chair, and eventually the emergency tank at the back of her helmet, provided oxygen, she still couldn’t breathe well because the pressure around her body was close to zero. The inner shielding of the suit kept her body from being sucked out through the small holes, but it didn’t keep the pressure up.
Around her, ships of all sizes fired on each other, and Kellen couldn’t help but admire the way her assault team handled themselves. She watched them press the Onotharians together into a cluster, and thus create an easier target.
Far away, one of the assault craft broke out of the pattern, and at first Kellen thought it had taken a hit. Then it turned toward her position, and she realized that the bridge had noticed her predicament and sent someone after her.
Just as relief flooded her, the suit ripped all along her abdomen and down her left leg, and she couldn’t breathe the oxygen that spilled into her helmet. Her chest worked hard against the nothingness of space, trying to pull much-needed oxygen into her lungs, but her gasping only made things worse. Using the last of her energy, she grabbed the front of her suit and twisted it, trying to hold it together, even though she knew her attempt was futile. Her vision blurred, and she realized she was going to pass out any second. She stared at the dots far away that grew with every struggling heartbeat.
The last thing Kellen heard was a resounding bang, which made her lose her grip on the suit. After that, everything went black.
*
The largest of the Onotharian ships slowly pushed the assault craft backward, thus gaining a clean line of fire against Paladin’s four smaller freighters. As the
Gallant
’s captain slowly moved the ship into firing position, Jacelon watched on the view screen. The four other freighters were safely tucked away on the other side of the SC ship, and Jacelon clenched her fists as she watched the smaller ships take the brunt of the fire.
“Do we have communications with D’Artansis yet?” she asked the ops ensign.
“Not yet, ma’am. Too much interference from the plasma charges. I can only detect scattered static.”
“How about the commander’s biosignature?”