The Shadow Among The Stars: Book One of the Dread Naught Trilogy Page 10

  Bryluen felt such a thing as a gradual reversal of motion passed through the enemy horde from the rear, and immediately seized the moment. “Dread Naught, fifteen more seconds and then rally to the Atet! We’re going to see where these things run to!”

  9. Realizations and Rest

  The foe began to fall back, the members of the task force firing into their backs or finishing foes they had already engaged. Lieutenant Lapahie ordered the Rubicons to pursue and harry the survivors, as the mounted weaponry continued to stitch trails of munitions into the receding mass of enemies. Radio chatter from across the city indicated the same occurrence—the enemy, all across Pisistratus, had begun to flee toward the unidentified point east of the city where the attack had originated.

  Dread Naught began to pull back and run up the ramp of the Atet. Kirby, knowing it was her responsibility to fly the ship, came up first. She docked the dented and singed Marduk before sprinting to the bridge to begin take-off procedures. Bryluen waited by the top of the ramp for the rest of the team, glancing briefly at the burn marks on the outside of her left leg and her right arm near the elbow. Vort flew past, apparently unharmed, then Runner with a long scratch across his lower back from a close encounter with a horn. Nicadzim’s outer armor plates were scratched, dented, and scorched all over, but his heavy armor had held and protected the man inside.

  As the ramp closed, Bryluen spoke over team communications as she again proceeded to the second seat on the bridge. “Folks: we all lived! Congratulate yourselves. We left a hell of a lot of corpses, and not a damn thing got past!”

  The team cheered raucously, their blood pumping and adrenaline still surging. Nicadzim simply smiled as Vort cycled through several bright colors. Runner and Kirby both seemed elated and even relaxed, like they had just come back from a trip to a spa.

  Bryluen spoke again.“Kirby is gonna follow these things out. Today shows that they’ve definitely moved past isolated raids. This was a full on assault, and it didn’t end because we were beating them throughout the city—they’re leaving for some reason as they’ve done previously, and I want to know why.”

  Bryluen relaxed into her chair as the Atet lifted off and flew to the furthest extent of the enemy retreat, at a height far exceeding the foes’ ability to reach them. A dark streak of over two thousand remaining enemies flowed from the beleaguered city out to the eastern plains like a trail of ants. Kirby grunted the first time she had to circle back around. The Atet, even with every conceivable method of braking, moved at a speed that vastly outstripped the running speed of their target.

  Bryluen and Kirby’s breaths were gradually slowing down in tandem, as their bodies relaxed from the strenuous activity they had just experienced. Bryluen was first to remove her helmet, her skin shining and her short hair a wet explosion of silver and brown. She wiped some of the excess moisture from her face with one gauntlet and sniffed as a drop of sweat coalesced on the end of her nose for a moment.

  “You were amazing out there, Furcotte. That kind of fighting spirit isn’t something you can buy or train. That’s what makes you the best at what you do.”

  Through Kirby’s broad visor it was obvious she was beaming from Bryluen’s assessment. She took one breath as if deciding something, then removed her own helmet with one hand. She, too, was sweaty, her pony tail a kinked and gravity-defying disaster after being crammed into the back of her head gear. The sweat bath her hair had been given had caused it to shift from its usual reddish tones to a dark brown. Her pale complexion was visibly reddened, and what had previously been a grease mark on one cheek had slowly melted down the side of her face.

  “Thank you, ma’am. You were pretty fuckin’ awesome yourself. I did never think what it would look like for an Operative to get into a fight, but got damn! Makes me wanna make a big ole’ whip for myself, that was some kinky shit.”

  Bryluen laughed, white teeth flashing. “Well, it’s a lot less glamorous when you have to hear all the squishing and slopping sounds.”

  “Well hell, Bryl, that kinda language ain’t helpin’ your case.” Kirby smiled and laughed. “That was … a hell of a thing. Those critters really are somethin’ else, aren’t they? They act like they’ve got brains, but they have no concern for keepin’ alive. Like you said, it’s like they’re bein’ controlled or somethin’.”

  Bryluen rested her helmet on her knee and nodded. “Yeah, they’re a mystery right now. I’ll just be glad to know how they get between worlds. They don’t have any obvious technology, but they pass through atmospheres and don’t get caught by sensors. I hate not knowing something that basic.”

  In the bay, Runner’s head was laid back as far as the harness would allow. He had discarded his helmet, his coarse hair frizzy and chaotically protruding in all directions, from a combination of its former confinement and the sweat he had worked up during the battle. Nicadzim’s head shone in the dim lighting of the bay, his own helmet in an empty harness next to him. His sweat was forming into drops that lobbed themselves at a gentle angle from his skull to splash on the deck.

  Rather than sweat, Vort steadily ejected body heat from the thin vanes on his back, accommodated by valves on his armor. His singing attacks were almost as tiring to him as they were effective. “So. Your species’ water-cooling: What does it feel like?”

  Nicadzim took a breath. “We became somewhat slimy to the touch once it had occurred, but there was no sensation as our bodies produced the sweat. To our senses it simply condenses on our skin and is pulled downward by gravity.”

  Vort made a sound as he absorbed the information. Runner sighed. “I am both ex-xhausted, and fe-eel incredible at the same time. We’re alive, and we kicked s-s-so much ass I’m still strugglin-ng to believe it.”

  “For a being without wings you are remarkably mobile. It was difficult to not be distracted by you!”

  Runner smiled and pointed at the alien. “You’re f-far from the f-first to tell me I’m distr-racting, but definitely the first with te-en legs!”

  Nicadzim’s eyebrows raised. “Will I understand via omission that you have been hearing such a thing from a winged individual?”

  “Ly Aulth. T-they both had such beaut-tiful feathers. Very different patterns for sib-blings, too,” Runner intoned nostalgically. “So, N-nico, your, uh, weapons?” Runner completed his sentence by shrugging.

  Nicadzim cleared his throat. “They are … constructs, not truly physical entities, but real as far as such concepts matter. I won’t make them, per se, the process was more a matter of … finding them? They will come from within me and once embodied they will remained the same.”

  Runner nodded slowly. Vort shifted. “I regret to inform you that did little to explain things.”

  Kirby continued to lazily circle around the head of the enemy tide for a time. She and Bryluen kept checking the sensors and cameras, finding nothing but more grass and rocks as far as the eye could see. There was no sign of anything that could transport the swarming enemies gathered below, so when they began to ascend it was quite unexpected.

  Starting from the front of the group a few kilometers outside of Pisistratus, the dark shapes began to dissolve into a black dust. The dust formed into a narrow trail that curved upward and accelerated rapidly skyward. Kirby quickly had the flight computer project a course into orbit the dust was likely to take, and sped upward through the atmosphere.

  Bryluen dialed into the comm channel for Democritus’ Orbital Guard, her security clearance granting her unfettered access. What she found was the beginnings of panicked Monitor captains indicating an unknown contact had blipped onto their systems. The Orbital Defense Matrix was being reactivated as the Monitors moved to confront the contact. As the Atet burst out into the exosphere, Bryluen and Kirby simultaneously took a sharp breath at the sight awaiting them.

  In low orbit a dark shape had materialized, something vaguely like an elongated horseshoe crab. It was a chitinous-looking, almost serpentine thing with thin claws around what appeare
d to be a central maw. The thing was dotted in a number of blank, eye-like hemispheres across its carapace. The stream of black dust began to strike the surface of the horrible thing, accumulating across its surface and adding to it mass.

  Overall, the leviathan was many times larger than the Monitors or the Atet, though still not large in the overall scheme of starships. The large eye-like protrusions, each several meters across, rotated toward the Monitor formation as it approached. The small ships stopped at close weapons range near the far curve of the planet, closer than pointblank by the measure of most space battles. Swiftly turning, they brought their flank laser arrays to bear. As the last of the dust reached the creature, it swung away from Democritus and accelerated out toward the gate.

  The Monitors opened fire, bright beams of light aiming at the creature’s eyes in silent concert. Near the monstrosity’s surface some force seemed to disperse the lasers, making their impact less effective. It was difficult to tell if any appreciable damage was dealt in the brief moment of weapons fire, as soon after the monster simply fizzled out of sight. Further lasers fired off into perpetuity through the place the beast had occupied a moment before.

  Kirby rapidly cycled through scanning schemas, but nothing produced results revealing the location or bearing of the creature. Bryluen curtly radioed the Monitors to resume their patrol, and relayed a recording of the contact to the other team members’ suits. Each received a notification beep through their collar mics, urging them to replace their helmets and see the thing for themselves.

  “So, Dread Naught … they’re part of a much bigger beast. One which can just … vanish. We knew they had to have a method of travel, but damn. Non-terrestrial life of that scale is … uncommon, at best.” Bryluen took another breath. “They didn’t appear to have technology of a visible sort before, and this confirms it. If that many enemies can account for that small a proportion of the creatures’ mass, they can put out a lot of soldiery, maybe only limited by the mass it needs to maintain orbit, depending on how it’s propelled. This … is big, but I don’t really need to tell you that. That’s our job cut out for us, folks, so don’t forget it.”

  ◆◆◆

  “Exactly how large would you estimate the creature’s size to be?”

  Bryluen stood in the meeting room in Raven’s Landing. A projection of High Commander Galmaan floated above the table. She had removed her armor, leaving her again standing in her athletic wear as she had gone straight from landing to reporting to the High Commander, still sweat-sheened and haggard.

  The door was closed behind her, the other members of Dread Naught off relaxing after the battle. Runner had gone off to the exercise room for a cool down and to clear his mind, while Kirby had taken the Marduk straight to the workshop for diagnostics and repairs. Nicadzim reclined on the couch in the lounge while Vort had simply gone to his room for the time being. Each of them were digesting the scale of their task: a battle was an easy enough thing to visualize. Defeating giant disappearing space monsters was, however, more difficult to face down.

  Bryluen placed her hands on the edge of the meeting table. “Scans gave the beast’s dimensions as being a little larger than the average Destroyer class vessel. Definitely outweighing a heavy Frigate. Compositionally, we couldn’t get a proper read on it even with the Atet’s pinpoint arrays. As I describe in the report it was obviously more creature than craft, but given how Rabisus hurl fireballs I wouldn’t be too surprised if it had some form of offensive weaponry. It’s method of propulsion is uncertain but it can sure move—our pilot read its acceleration rate at about that of an Iceni class Frigate. I definitely got the impression it operates as a blockade runner, and excels at the task. Stealth in, drop your troops, hide until you need to go, reappear to pick them up, and skip town. Whether it runs because it’s efficient or because it can't survive a fight, I don’t know.

  The High Commander steepled his fingers. “Hm. Assuming some degree of biological parity with the ground forms, we must assume it is decently resilient at the least. We will consult the Commandant Prime about reassigning nir battle groups from internal patrol, to the outer border systems and Qixing rim-space. We will need fast, substantial firepower if we hope to catch and eliminate one of these creatures. Perhaps then we can study them and possibly begin to determine their intent. We will ponder this intelligence further, and reach out to the Qixing in order to negotiate cooperation with Dread Naught. Thank you and good job as always, Dame Branok.”

  “High Commander?”

  Galmaan stopped before he pressed the disconnect button. “Yes, Dame?”

  “It’s the Stones. Whatever they are. They’re after these Stones.”

  “We haven’t yet found evidence that a similar stone was present in Pisistratus yet, Dame.”

  “Not yet, but we did find a similar object was missing at Galhoun. They don’t stay and fight even when they could undoubtedly win. They don’t even care to take up all of their own troops. Those Stones are the only link.”

  “That’s true enough. We have nothing else, and if Pisistratus has such a stone, that will prove important. Your intuition and reasoning is something we have always trusted and respected, so even though we lack hard evidence I wager you are correct. I promise we’re looking—we didn’t assign this task to you just to ignore your input.”

  “I know,” she sighed. “I’m just aware that mystery rocks are going to be a hard sell to the Colonial Arbiters, not to mention the Terran Prime Minister—she’s a tough customer at the best of times. The Commandant Prime will probably will be easier to convince—obviously ne’s got a history of acting on CSOE intel sooner rather than later. I just hope that when we discover the purpose of the Stones, we can convince everyone of the best course of action.”

  The High Commander’s voice took on an uncharacteristic softness. “We will, Bryluen. We have always kept Humanity safe, and all those people you mentioned want the best for us all. We will get the information we need to, and we will get all the pieces to move together.”

  “Yeah,” Bryluen scratched her nose with her thumb. “This is just going to get bigger and worse. Thank you, High Commander.”

  Runner crossed the lobby from the exercise room toward the living quarters barefoot with his sweat-soaked shirt hanging around his neck. A precise geometric design was tattooed in faintly visible dark ink across the entire right-side of his chest. He had tied his thick hair back to keep it out of his way, but released it from his confinement as he walked. Thus unsecured, his hair immediately burst outward into its natural, plume-shaped form. He paused at the entryway of the living quarters corridor, and instead took a left to enter the neighboring hall leading to the workshop, firing range, and med bay. He leaned into the workshop door and caught sight of Kirby in the far corner, her exosuit standing proudly against the wall.

  She was gazing closely at part of the Marduk’s exposed waist assembly, with the discarded armor plates stacked on a table nearby. She was stimulating part of the suit’s inner workings with a diagnostic tool, watching the mechanisms operate back and forth in subtle twitches. Kirby still wore the same clothes she'd worn since that morning. This had proven wise, as she was blackened with oil and lubricant almost to her shoulders and all down her legs from the work she had been furiously performing on the suit.

  After a moment Kirby spoke up without turning around. “Runner, hon, could you pass me the Voss E-Mag on the table there?”

  He started and then immediately strode to the table near her, picking up a slender tool and placing it into her outstretched hand.

  “Thank ya, darlin’.”

  Runner leaned on the wall and crossed his arms as Kirby began to collect information with her latest tool. “How did you kn-now it was me?”

  Kirby stopped and turned toward him, her long face smeared with various mechanical fluids. She glanced down at Runner’s exposed torso for a instant, then smirked. “Well you’re the only one here that would just hang back at the door and say not a damn
thing. And that’s your contraption over there, so I figured you’d be familiar with handheld E-Mags.”

  Pieces of a weapon in progress sat on a table across the room. Runner had been tuning and completing the gun, a long term project he was finally close to finishing. “That’s a f-fair point. I’m used to com-ming and going quietly. Haven’t lived with other people in a long time. More accustomed to windows th-than doors.”

  “Huh, hadn’t thought about that, you ain’t exactly been livin’ on the up and up, have you? Whatta you think of the digs here? Hell of a lot nicer than I’ve had in a very long time.” A brief, distant look passed over Kirby’s eyes.

  Runner saw something personal had passed through Kirby’s mind, like a hatch had slammed shut in her sub-conscious. “O-oh, I … enjoy it.”

  Kirby slowly narrowed her eyes at him. Runner stood silent for a few seconds but found he couldn’t really resist answering properly. He sighed with a smile. “I’m not acc-cclimatized yet. I don’t like being w-watched, I’m not used to being seen. I know I get immunity and I know we’re doing a g-g-g-great thing but it’s all just so … backwards for how I’ve s-s-spent so much of my life.”

  Kirby shrugged. “Well that makes sense to me. No shame in it. I mean, I feel wrong in my own skin if I’m away from my suit for long. Ridin’ this baby’s when I’m home, so I bet getting’ it takin’ away would be real tough. And if I’m makin’ you uncomfortable askin’ questions, you just lemme know, hon.”

  Runner put up his hands. “Oh, no, no, no, this is fine and all, it’s def-f-finitely not you. I j-just … have to get used to having people around whether or not I w-want them to be—though I, uh, do w-want them around.”

  Kirby smiled. “Well, I hope you can get used to having me around before long. Why don’t you tell me all about your pet project over there?”

  Nicadzim had retired to his quarters. He stood under his broad chromed shower head, the water circuitously reaching his body in wide, spiraling arcs and splashing off the broad slabs of his muscles. Between the gravitic anomalies and his bulk, the shower was behaving more like a shuttle wash than a normal shower.