Voyage to Athelon (War of the Three Planets Book 5) Page 3

  As I veer right into the hallway Loren vacated, I smell the remnants of the egg-like mixture, a powdered breakfast mush, that long haul transports have used for years. Growing up in my somewhat affluent family, it's an experience I'm not familiar with, but over the past week I've actually grown to enjoy the various flavors of egg, swine, and pressed flour carbohydrates.

  I hear the tangled clatter of metal on metal from the kitchen as I approach, and Luxen is hunched over, picking up a pair of wrenches from the grated floor.

  "Hey, Brie," he says quietly, looking up at me as I enter. Shrag is just behind him with a toolbox in one hand and a plate of the powdered eggs in another.

  "Morning, boys," I reply. "What are you working on today?"

  "With Shrag's help, I rebuilt the firing mechanism for that starboard quad cannon. We're going to try and manufacture some barrels today."

  "Nice."

  "When it's done we're going to need someone to test fire it," Shrag continues, flashing me a crooked smile. "Interested?"

  I shrug. "Sure, why not. Target practice at passing asteroids?"

  Shrag laughs and nods as he passes by and makes his way into the hallway. Something about him sends prickles racing up my back. Drewsk said he was an ex-mercenary and Bragdon assassin back in the day, someone who saw the error of his ways. But every time he looks at me, I swear he's calculating how quickly he could kill me.

  "When you grabbing lunch?" Luxen asks as he stands up right, his tools collected in a tight left fist.

  "Let me have breakfast first, then maybe I can figure that out," I reply, smiling. He nods and turns away, walking down the hall. I hear a mumble of voices as I press a mug underneath the nozzle of the dispenser and activate it, dumping milky dark liquid down into the silver, metal cup. Slow pirouettes of steam dance up from the liquid as I wrap my hands around it, savoring the warmth.

  "Smells lovely," Pung says as he enters the kitchen, ducking his large, broad head underneath the arched ceiling. His gray and brown fur is unkempt and tangled in an early morning "bed head" over his entire body. I'll never get used to co-existing with Reblons. He's wearing a thick, cloth toga looking thing over his chest, which drapes down towards his knees. Underneath the thick curtain of fur on his legs, wide, leather-skinned feet pad along the smooth floor with wide toes splayed out like thick fingers.

  "You don't get out much, do you?" I ask.

  Pung smiles. "Well, last time I went out for a walk, there was this whole sucking, deadly vacuum of space thing going on."

  All right. Reblons can be kind of funny when they want to be. I hand over the metal cup with the dark liquid in it.

  "Take the first cup, I haven't drunk out of it yet, I promise."

  "You are too kind, Brie," he nods to me, then tips the cup to his lips, drawing in a long, deep swallow. "Mmmm, this is excellent."

  I slide another cup underneath the nozzle and activate it. I have to admit, Pung has a point, it does smell pretty good. I think half the appeal of this gunk is the smell.

  "So what's on your checklist today?" I ask.

  "We're apparently running a bit low on fuel in tank three. I'm supposed to help Loren with adjusting our trajectory slightly to get more mileage out of it. Then check the tank for leaks."

  I nod and take my first full, warm sip. Okay, now the day can officially begin.

  "I haven't seen you around much," Pung says. "What do they have you doing all day?"

  I'm not sure how to answer this. All of these people rushing around the ship, keeping it together with tape and twine, while I spend my days reading. Either in my quarters or in the hold, I'm just consuming every bit of information I can get my eyes on, which is exactly what Drewsk wants me to do. The ability to gain knowledge, strategy, and intelligence is my most powerful asset.

  It's difficult to explain that to those who are doing legitimate manual labor, however. Returning to their bunks after thirteen hours with grease matted fur and broken fingernails.

  "I've been spending a lot of time with Drewsk," I reply. "Plotting the path to Athelon, trying to figure out what we're going to do when we get there."

  Pung nods softly.

  "So what do you think about going back to Athelon?" I ask him, taking another sip. A look passes briefly over his face that I can't quite grasp. It didn't look pleased.

  "Reblon was my home," he says. "My family, my home, and everything I've ever known was there. I'm just a simple farmer from a simple family, I'm not built for these outer space adventures."

  "So why are you here?"

  He draws in a deep breath. "There are times when I'm not sure how to answer that question." The metal mug clanks as he sets it on the table and looks down into its dark contents. For a moment he seems to see something in there, a faint image swirling around.

  "But then I remember my children. The children I swore an oath to protect as their guardian. An oath that I failed."

  "Pung, there's nothing you could have done."

  "You speak the truth. There is nothing I could have done. But now, there are things I can do. I suppose that's the fundamental difference."

  "I'm sorry, Pung," I reply. "Sorry for what happened to your family."

  He smiles weakly, a brave defiance of his still raw emotion. It was jarring. So often I'd seen Reblons as angry and hostile beasts, rabid animals who existed simply to hunt, claw, attack, and kill. His face crumples to a gentle mix of memory and loss, but only for a moment before it hardens again, clenching the muscles and locking them in place.

  "Thank you," he replies firmly, with a curt nod. His fingers hook around the handle of the mug and he sweeps from the kitchen, disappearing down the open hallway towards the hold.

  I lean back on the counter, taking another sip and thinking about the events of my life over the past month or so. Almost two months now. But as I hear the soft thump of Pung's feet echo down the hallway, I can't help but think that things could be a lot worse. I still have a family. They might hate my guts and be willing to send deadly space craft to kill me, but at least they're there.

  The liquid is hot and smooth as it spreads throughout my stomach and I feel my nerves just beginning to settle somewhat.

  Right before the klaxon screams to life, the lights go dim, and an ominous red hue coats the inside of the entire ship.

  "Heads up, crew!" Drewsk's voice echoes from everywhere all at once. "We are approaching the asteroid belt at the fringe of the Krelix sector! We're running on twenty percent fuel capacity, so evasive maneuvers will have to be very carefully performed. Non-essential personnel return to quarters and batten down!"

  Am I essential? I never stopped to think of that before.

  "Brie, to the command console, now!"

  Guess that answers that question. Closing my eyes to brace against the heat, I slug down the rest of my mug in one swift swallow and pound the metal cup down on the counter, launching myself from the kitchen. Angling down the diagonal corridor to my left I charge through the hall, out into the hold, then continue on towards the cockpit, that small section of ship that Drewsk likes to call the "command console".

  "I'm here!" I shout as I barge into the narrow chamber where the pilot and co-pilot seats are. Drewsk is glaring out of the front canopy while Loren sits next to him, adjusting dials, and setting thrust levels. Up ahead I can see the vague formation of floating rocks coming together into a tightly packed wall in front of us. I hope as we get closer the spaces between those rocks get bigger, because if they don't this is going to be a short trip.

  "Good," he replies without looking back. "I need your brain."

  I look out the front window at the asteroids as they march methodically towards us, crawling through the darkness of space, inch by inch. As they grow nearer, they are pulling a bit further apart, but just a bit, and even as I narrow my glare it's difficult for me to tell if there's a large enough gap to fit this ship through.

  "The belt's big. We can't go around," Drewsk says as if reading my mind. "Not enough fuel."

  "So we either have to squeeze through," I start to say.

  "Or shoot through," he finishes.

  "I'm not crazy about either scenario," Loren interjects. I can't say I disagree.

  "None of us are," Drewsk replies, "but there isn't much choice."

  "How many missiles do we have?" I ask, glaring at the thickening row of floating rocks ahead, which stretches out nearly beyond the eye's capacity to see in either direction.

  "Ten, maybe? Twelve?"

  "How are the plasma batteries?"

  "Pretty near max capacity. We'd only burned a few cells during our exit from Reblon, especially since our starboard cannon got wrecked."

  "Are there plasma cannons on the nose as well as the rocket launchers?" I ask, my eyes darting from one rock to another, calculations rattling off in my head.

  "Yes," Drewsk replies, his voices firming up as we draw closer to the belt. I squint and tilt my head as I try and focus on the movement of the rocks.

  "Is the gravitational field weird in this sector?" I ask to no one in particular. I don't honestly expect an answer. "The way those asteroids are rotating is a bit odd."

  "I'm more worried about the way they're going to slam into this ship in a few minutes, Brie."

  Still glaring through the screen at the rocks I extend my arm and point a narrow finger towards a small clutch of rocks, nearly straight ahead of us.

  "Right there," I say. "Empty the rocket tubes, chase them with plasma, if you can detonate the rockets right as they're at that point, the explosion should scatter that group."

  "Sure about that?"

  "Nope."

  "Lie to me next time, okay?"

  Loren is already priming the rocket tubes and transferring plasma to the nose-turrets. The
vast wall of floating rocks fills up nearly our entire view as we continue our forward trek. Drewsk is cautiously easing off the throttle, trying to slow us a bit, but not too much because we can't invest the fuel in an aggressive acceleration.

  "Hold on just a minute," I say as Loren's fingers hover over the fire buttons. "Just another minute."

  She ship creeps closer, and I glare at the floating rocks, trying to figure out exactly what's wrong with this picture. I can see the texture of the asteroids now, the ragged ridges of uneven chunks of space debris, pressed tightly together into one cohesive, lumbering boulder. There's a brief glint on one of them and I draw my head back.

  But there's no time to think.

  "Fire rockets. Now."

  Loren slams her palms down, and from underneath our feet, the noiseless ignition of propulsion sends ten silver streaks hurling from their launch tubes to spiral towards the tight gathering of asteroids just ahead of us. The rockets push closer, nearly in the edge of the belt.

  "Plasma volley!"

  The words bellow from my mouth before I can even form them in my mind, and not for the first time I wonder just who this person is now wearing my skin. For a solid week I've been consuming all available material on the orbital habits of asteroids and on terminal velocity and the concussive power of the composite rockets we carry in our tubes. Angles of deflection, heat of ignition, the effect of the explosions in the vacuum of space. Drewsk made me read it all, and somehow, for the life of me, I understood it.

  As the rockets near the asteroids, a barrage of lime green energy screams from under the nose of the ship, slicing through darkness and converging on the tightly grouped missiles. Reflecting pale green on the strangely contoured surface of these space rocks, the beams of light pound into the group of rockets and ignite in a bright and furious, yet soundless flash of white and yellow so bright it seems as if the fabric of space itself is torn open revealing a blinding force beneath.

  Rolling shock waves curl from the flash and slam into all four nearby asteroids, forcing them in opposite directions. As they tumble slowly away from each other, they crash into others, knocking jagged chunks from their surface and causing them to separate to reveal a small chink in the belt's armor. The series of gaps between the four is a blessed parting of these rocky seas with indigo space and twinkling stars just visible beyond.

  "Full throttle!" I shout. "Towards that gap!"

  "What's the rush?" asks Loren as Drewsk turns, and clutches twin thruster ignition levers with his two left hands. He rams them forward and the ship leaps, sending me stumbling.

  "Just trust me!" I say as I catch my balance and narrowly avoid falling to the floor.

  The ship propels itself forward on its few last gasps of fuel, shooting towards the belt as the asteroids start to recover and reverse their tumbles back towards the center.

  "What the heck?" Loren asks. "That's not possible!"

  Up ahead the gap starts closing and that precious slice of space narrows.

  "I said full throttle, Drewsk, don't hold back!"

  "I am!"

  The ship accelerates towards the space between the rocks as they close in, but at the last moment, one jagged edge of an asteroid slams into another, halting their close and leaving the smallest space between. Drewsk hauls the sticks to the right, banking the narrow freighter, and sends our ship screaming through the gap.

  Two abrupt bangs echo from the top and bottom as the large space rocks scrape away layers of our hull on each side. We slow briefly. The ship shudders and pauses for a moment, but Drewsk compensates for the impact, adjusts speed, and reignites thrusters to send us surging forward again, and this time, in the window ahead, all we see is empty space.

  The asteroids are past us.

  "Nice job, Brie," Drewsk whispers, sounding hesitant to believe we actually survived.

  "That was a little too close," Loren follows.

  "We're not out of the woods yet," a voice hisses from behind us. I turn and see Segaris pressing his large Reblon form through the narrow hallway towards the cockpit. His shoulders nearly touch each side.

  "What do you mean?" Drewsk asks, glancing back.

  "Those weren't normal asteroids," I reply, remembering that telltale glint as well as the way they actually compensated for the explosive impact.

  "Loren, bring up external screens, let me get a look," Drewsk says, turning to his co-pilot. She nods and flips a pair of switches, activating a secondary monitor embedded in the console.

  On the screen, the asteroids look like large floating monoliths. As we look closer, from this new angle on the far side of the rocks, objects are visible within the concave surface of the boulders. Embedded in the rough and uneven rocky surface of these chunks of planet are round metal objects that look...artificial.

  They are not a part of nature.

  As we watch, small flashes of blue light burst from the three asteroids within our viewfinder. With these tiny punches of thrust, these artificial objects leap from the surface, shoot out, and break away, leaving a trail of busted rock in their wakes.

  Ships! Small ships were attached to the dark side of each asteroid. Each fake asteroid!

  This isn't an asteroid belt at all; it's a facade, a rock wall barrier designed to conceal spacecraft.

  "Scalebacks," Drewsk whispers. "Those are Bragdon designed fighters."

  "This was a trap?" Loren asks.

  "Doesn't much matter," Drewsk replies. "Whatever it is, we're in it."

  Before he says another word, he reaches over and plucks a microphone from the console ahead of him, then draws it to his lips.

  "Attention all crew! Prepare for combat! We have inbound fighters. I repeat, we have inbound fighters and we must assume they are not friendly. Battle positions!"

  The klaxons blare again and the ship is dropped into a dull, red ink just before the throttling smash of plasma fire begins raining down.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The first ship is immediately identifiable as a Bragdon transport. Though heavily modified and adorned with a full fleet's worth of weaponry, the rounded front and bulbous rear compartments look familiar to me, even with my limited experience with interstellar travel. It's shaped almost like a snail, with a rounded rear section and an elongated front. It's reinforced with layer upon layer of angled armor, and the two massive rotating thrusters in the middle are currently turned horizontally and blasting nearly transparent cones of flame.

  Filling up the largest segment of the display on the console, the ship bears down on us with several smaller cruisers splitting off, streaming out from behind it, and arcing to come around on our flank.

  "Bring us around!" Drewsk screams to Loren, but she's already adjusting thrust trajectory. As the left engine cuts and the right engine roars, Drewsk grabs four control sticks, slamming two of them towards him and the other two away. I stumble to the right, whacking my shoulder on the wall of the corridor as the freighter takes a sudden left twist, narrowly avoiding several streaks of plasma which rocket past and careen off into space.