“My friend, Lev-9, we were expecting you,” Jolen said. “The shield, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, is not down, however.”
“Yes, Mr. Tain, our sensors concur.”
“Jiab? Neikkia Noonak?” Admiral Atregis shattered the moment. “Is that you?”
“Admiral!” Achanei pulled Lev-9 back and shouldered her way forward so she would be within range of the holocam.
“Lady Feillion?” Utter disbelief erased the man’s frown. “How did you three…?”
“Never mind that for now, Admiral,” Achanei preempted him. His face went stoic again. “We’ve got to get my colleague planet-side as soon as possible.”
“That’s what Mr. Tain has been telling me ever since we started this adventure. I don’t see how we’re going to do that with the shield still in place.”
“We’ll bring you on board Queen Tenok,” Jolen said. “We can try to figure something out once you are safely aboard.”
“Yes,” Jiab agreed quickly. “Let’s do that.” The Oobellian’s eyes were like empty energy cannons, nervously targeting the line of Protectorate ships pressing ever closer.
Neikkia, seeing where her comrade’s gaze had taken aim, nodded. “Please! I think the odds behind your guns are better than staying out here behind ours.”
The Oobellian pilot synchronized the launch’s trajectory with the larger ship. Queen Tenok swept more missiles aside so that her magnetic grapplers could catch them as they came in hot. She reeled them into one of her open bays.
As soon as the launch powered down and popped its hatch, Achanei’s feet hit the flight deck running. Admiral Atregis was already there and caught her up in his arms. Just for a fraction of an instant, a sliver of relief poked out through his military aplomb. Jiab and Neikkia Noonak joined the pair and Achanei began to gesticulate as she reported to her old mentor and family friend what she had been through the past few standard weeks.
Lev-9 clapped across the steel deck towards the two other men that were waiting. Aiben recognized Tain-Balmor’s president from the holotransmission. The other one didn’t register, but as he watched Lev-9 converse with them, it was clear that there was something artificial about the man. Perhaps he was the famous Ubaad Balmor mechanoid.
Aiben looked around the docking bay from where he still stood at the foot of the launch’s boarding ramp. It was antiseptic and utilitarian, the drabness broken up only by the banks of computers and maintenance equipment that serviced House Feillion fighter craft while on deck. Aside from their launch, one other craft was sitting out the battle in the bay. It was the conspicuous wedge of a Zenzani fighter cradled off to the side. A lone man clad in pilot’s gear, imprinted with House Feillion’s seal, lounged around the fighter looking quite dejected. They had already cast every other space-worthy warship into the battle that raged outside around them.
Queen Tenok suddenly lurched with the concussion of a missile that had gotten through the defense screens and slammed into her side. The explosive quake tore Admiral Atregis away from his conversation with Achanei and propelled him towards one of the bay’s computers with the Oobellians in tow. Achanei jogged back over to Aiben’s side.
“It doesn’t look good. The admiral doesn’t know any more than we do where to go from here. He’s mostly concerned with protecting his people for as long as he can. They are planning to make their last stand at the portal. Do you have any ideas at all how are we going to get down to that planet to stop Nairom?”
“I don’t know how we’re going to do it, Achanei, but we’ve got to figure something out quickly.” Out of the corner of his eye, Aiben caught the gleam of the Zenzani fighter. Something started working in the back of his mind.
“Should we even try at this point?” she said. “Isn’t he after the same thing we are anyway?”
“We’ve been over this already. If he succeeds, I can’t guarantee a better thing will happen. He wants to take Magron’s place. I saw it on his face.”
Achanei withdrew into silence as Lev-9 and the two men from Tain-Balmor came across the deck to join them.
“What is that for?” Aiben asked Jolen without preamble, and pointed to the wedged hull cradled at the end of the bay.
“If we had an opportunity to get under the shields again, we were planning to slip that ship into the atmosphere and send it hunting for the main shield network generator.”
“You were hoping to elude hostile fire by assuming their guise.” Achanei nodded her approval.
“Yes, well that’s moot now. I’m Jolen Tain and this is Balmor-6.” Jolen indicated his companion and stretched out a hand to her. “To get the shields down, we have to get through the shields. Sort of a no-win scenario, wouldn’t you say?”
Achanei took Jolen’s hand, but another explosion hit them before he could proffer it to Aiben. It didn’t matter; Aiben was too busy fighting to keep his feet on the pitching deck. Something had started tingling inside of his head, as well. He had forgotten his connection to the hyperportal was still hot and now it was activating. Someone was coming through it. The mind attached to that thread of exposed hyperspace was unmistakable. He was doing nothing to conceal himself.
“He was behind us!” Aiben exclaimed.
“Who was behind you?” Jolen eyed him.
It abruptly clicked in his mind and Aiben knew what they had to do. He instantly took off towards the fighter. “That’s how we’ll get through,” he shouted over his shoulder and pointed at the ship.
The pilot got up from his perch on the fighter’s cradle with a look of apprehension on his face.
“Who was behind you?” Tain-Balmor’s president repeated to Achanei. “What is he talking about?”
“Nairom’s coming through the hyperportal right now,” Achanei said, suddenly aware of what Aiben was sensing. She bounded after him. “Wait, I’m coming too!”
“What are they doing?” Jolen demanded from Lev-9.
“Finding a way, I believe.”
The pilot was already posturing himself as if ready to guard the ship with his life if need be. “What’s going on here?” he asked when Aiben was within earshot.
“Is this thing ready to fly?”
The pilot stiffened, not sure of this man’s place in asking him for information. “Admiral, sir?” he called across the deck to Admiral Atregis.
The admiral looked up from the station he busied himself at along the bay’s wall. He saw Aiben already at the fighter and quickly assessed the situation. “Lieutenant, follow that man’s orders to the letter.”
“Sir?” The pilot relaxed a little, nodded at Aiben, but still looked bothered.
“We need to get that ship into space now,” Aiben said.
“Yes sir, but where are we taking her?” He tried to look past Aiben to the admiral again, but Achanei was blocking his view now and she stepped right into the middle of the conversation.
“Climb aboard, boys, you can chat when we’re in vacuum.”
The pilot frowned at her. Aiben smiled and gestured for him to get aboard. Not wanting to disobey the orders of House Feillion’s Fleet Admiral, the man slid open the fighter’s hatch and pulled himself into the pilot’s seat. Aiben climbed into the cockpit above him in the gunner’s chair. Achanei was right on her fellow cybermancer’s heels, but Admiral Atregis yelled after her to stay aboard Queen Tenok. She waved him off dismissively.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but that’s the Fleet Admiral,” the pilot said, looking up from his flight couch at the woman squeezing into the fighter.
“Yes, he is an admiral,” she seethed, “and I’m Lady Achanei Feillion, Lieutenant.”
It was all Aiben could do to hold back his laughter as the pilot’s face blanched. He hadn’t realized she was the daughter of House Feillion’s Lord. The chastised officer gulped down hard as he now recognized who she was.
“Now get us into space,” she ordered and turned to give Aiben a triumphant look. When she saw his face, her victorious mood fizzled out. “And then?”
> “And then we follow Nairom down to the planet,” he said.
CHAPTER 43
Morgoloth’s primary hyperportal disgorged Nairom’s fighter. A wake of chromatic energy swirled behind it like blazing plumage. Aiben commanded the pilot of the appropriated Zenzani fighter, Lieutenant Nost, as they came to know him, to pursue the vivid bird of vengeance.
As they swooped towards the other fighter, Aiben worked to contain his fear. He couldn’t let it seep out and overcast him or the other two occupants of the fighter. He was supposed to be the one with the plan. He hoped his former friend wouldn’t get too suspicious of their flight vector and target them with his weapons before they could get close enough. The last thing they needed was to engage him in a dogfight. If that happened, he would have to hail Nairom and trust he wouldn’t fire on them.
Nairom hadn’t been able to kill him at shelezati baral and maybe he wouldn’t do it now. There was just too much history between the two. On the other hand, blowing someone out of space at a distance was much more antiseptic than firing point-blank at your childhood friend as he looked you in the face.
Before Aiben had the chance to put Nairom to the test, another Zenzani fighter broke off from the mêlée of fighting ships pressing ever closer to Queen Tenok and rocketed towards them. Aiben’s first thought was that they had been seen leaving the launch bay, even though the Queen Tenok had rolled over to try to shield their escape. The new ship thrustered past their fighter, however, at an insane velocity and ignored them altogether. It spun and braked into a retro-orbit where it could intercept Nairom instead. The new arrival flicked out azure tongues of fire that licked at the Zenzani general’s fighter. Nairom took up the fight and the two ships began to roll and jig around each other, trading off stabbing bolts of energy.
“Who’s in those fighters?” Lieutenant Nost asked. His grip was so tight on the flight stick that his hand was chalk-white.
“One is a misguided friend, the other, I don’t know,” Aiben said. “But we can’t take the risk whoever it is wants the same thing we do.”
“And what do we want, sir?” The lieutenant chanced a look over his shoulder, eyes narrowing.
“We don’t have any idea what someone inside the Protectorate might know about im shalal or Nairom’s plan to use it.” Achanei brushed aside the man’s question and arched an eyebrow at Aiben.
“Ma’am?” Lieutenant Nost shifted his gaze to her.
“Concentrate on your flying, Lieutenant.” Achanei could have frozen water with the look she gave the poor man.
“Yes, ma’am.” He turned his attention back frontward.
“Unfortunately, I think our only chance is to help Nairom this time,” Aiben said. “Maybe he’ll be more willing to listen to reason afterwards.”
Achanei nodded. “Even if we can’t convince him to see things our way, helping him would at least keep im shalal out of the hands of someone we know nothing about.”
“Agreed. We have to help him then,” Aiben decided.
Lt. Nost dared to turn back around. He looked from one cybermancer to the other puzzled. “Which ship are you talking about? Do I need to get the admiral on the line for confirmation?”
“The man in that fighter is in possession of a weapon that could turn the tide of this entire war, Lieutenant.” Achanei leaned over the pilot’s shoulder and thrust a finger into the holographic matrix of his heads-up display. Nairom’s fighter sputtered as her finger fuzzed its coherence. “That one, right there. We need you to follow orders as the admiral already requested.”
“I understand, Lady Feillion,” he conceded. “You’re in command, as it were.”
“Good, we understand each other then.”
“Are we in range to target the other ship?” Aiben asked.
“Yes, sir, just now.”
“Let’s go ahead and open fire.” He felt a surge of confidence. Proof that Tulan’s self-assurance had not disappeared entirely with im shalal.
The lump in the pilot’s throat bobbed nervously. “Begging the sir’s pardon, but this crate’s made for a gunner and that’s you.”
Aiben studied the consoles surrounding him and Achanei. He recognized the targeting and firing systems easily enough. They were not that much different from the standard models he had seen in the garage on Besti. He found it surprising that the Protectorate’s engineers had labeled each control with the common, simple, ideographic script, which humans used in most areas of the galaxy for ease of understanding. He was amused at how military craft would be so user-friendly to the enemy. He finger-hopped what he thought would be the right sequence and the energy cannons powered up without protest.
“Thanks, I think I got it.” He tried locking on the targeting sensors. It was difficult to track and fire at the enemy with Achanei pressed up against him in the gunner’s couch. He had to reach his arms around her to get at the controls, but the two were soon moving together in syncopation as she watched the targeting display and anticipated his rhythm. After a while, she placed her hand over his on the firing control, and almost as if they were one, they let loose a barrage of energy bolts that gouged the enemy fighter. A few rounds of fire was all it took. The unknown assailant felt the odds against him, broke off, and sped out of range.
They both let out a hoot and Lieutenant Nost gave them a thumbs-up. “Do you want me to pursue?” he asked.
“No, stay with the fighter Lady Feillion pointed out,” Aiben said. Her title sounded strange coming from his own lips. “How good of a pilot are you anyway, Lieutenant Nost?”
The pilot didn’t even flinch. “I’m the best House Feillion’s got. That’s probably why they picked me to fly a Zenzani fighter on a jaunt through Morgoloth’s airspace looking for a shield generator.”
“Can you get us no more than a few feet off that ship’s port side before he turns and fires on us?”
“Sir, I can do six inches if you want. If you’re thinking what I’m thinking you are, it just might work.”
“It’ll work.” Aiben patted Lieutenant Nost on the shoulder. “It has to.”
Achanei scowled. “What did I just miss between you two boys?”
“If we match velocity with Nairom and maneuver in close enough to stick to him, he won’t be able to fire on us without risking damage to himself,” Aiben said.
“OK, I understand that, but how’s that going to help us?”
“And then we’ll just slip through the shield with him. I’m betting the defensive weapons planet-side won’t target us either because Nairom will be sending all-clear codes to avoid getting shot at himself.”
“And you’re also betting that Nairom’s going to be momentarily grateful enough that he doesn’t turn on us before we get that close and that he’s still going to go through the shield even if he can’t shake us.” Achanei said doubtfully.
“No worries about the first one, ma’am.” Lieutenant Nost jammed his thumb against the starboard view port. Between the struts holding the cockpit’s glass together, the jagged, carbon-scored hulk of Nairom’s fighter barreled towards them. It halted mere feet from collision. Thruster buzz and inertial pressure bleed through their hull, signaling that they had actually been the ship that had just maneuvered.
“And I’m counting on the fact that he’s too desperate not to go through the shield.” Aiben winked at her.
“I wish I could see his face,” Achanei said. The cockpits of both ships were polarized, obscuring any chance at visual contact. “It might be nice to see if he looks angry or thankful.”
Nairom tried his best to shake them without decelerating his reentry, but Lieutenant Nost stuck to him like a little boy begging to play with his older brother on the playground. Finally, he had to open a gate in the planetary shield to avoid colliding with it. The two fighters, attached by threads of fate now, fell through into the powder blue of Morgoloth’s atmosphere together. It was a sky of deceptive calm, painted over a smudge of vile rock. Some distance away, the ship that
had bullied Nairom earlier dropped in from orbit behind them and kept just outside the range of their energy cannons.
Reentry brought the fighters screaming down over Morgoloth’s landscape like three blossoms of fiery friction. As they dropped in altitude, the fuzz of colorless land solidified into bright patches of desert, mountain, rock, and manufactured structures.
Nairom led them along a flight corridor lined with factories, urban infrastructure, and blocks of living quarters. They were enclaves of slave labor and subjugated people stuffed into the pockmarks of the planet’s surface. Defensive batteries targeted the incoming fighters, but as expected, none of them fired along their path.
Nairom continued to try to get his fighter unstuck from them, but threading a craft through atmosphere, and not hyperspace, hadn’t been one of Nairom’s stronger skills. Aiben had the advantage there as House Feillion’s pilot stayed true to his word. Whenever Nairom jerked his fighter away from them, Lieutenant Nost smoothly melted into his stuttering rhythm.
As the chaos of dirty industry and bleak habitation rushed past beneath them, a far away black mite resting on the top of a mountain began to grow into a gigantic structure as they quickly approached it. It was Magron’s citadel. When Aiben saw the sheer magnitude of the stronghold, he started to second-guess his actions, but an abrupt shudder from the impact of an energy discharge shook him from his thoughts. The fighter shadowing them had dared come in range, had gotten aggressive, and had shot at them.
Once again, Aiben’s apprehension evaporated when he sought out Tulan’s confidence. He threw targeting lasers at the other fighter, Achanei grasped his hand, and they began to squeeze off return fire anew. One of the enemy’s azure lances got through and bit into Nairom’s engine, not destroying it, but leaving it smoking and sputtering as a stream of glowing fuel bled into the sky. To his credit, Nairom kept a steady course and the combined fire of both fighters drove the baying enemy off once more.
Lt. Nost whistled. “Whoever your man in that fighter is, I underestimated him if he can pilot and fight like that when cornered in a crippled ship.”
“You’re right, he is something for sure,” Aiben agreed. “We’re lucky he’s not better at this like he is with everything else.” Aiben wanted to believe there was still good in his childhood friend, but bitterness was easy enough to taste without having to swallow it.