04 Dark Space (44 page)

Ethan felt vaguely dizzy, as if he’d just been spun around a dozen times. Then he felt a draft, and he opened his eyes to see a startling, unobstructed vista of Avilon for hundreds of kilometers in all directions. The lights of the city glittered all the way out to the horizon. The skyscraper whose spire had been ruined by a crashing Nova Fighter glowed orange still, like the superheated barrel of a giant plasma rifle aimed up at the sky. A bed of flaming debris flickered at that monolith’s base, while dozens of smaller fires burned in the square and throughout the distant rooftop gardens below. Ethan looked up to see the dome which they had stepped under, now dark and silently hovering overhead once more. Wondering what it was, Ethan walked out from under it with the group of Avilonians and sentinels. As if in a daze, he walked to the edge of the room and placed both hands against another dome, this one completely transparent. It was cold and smooth to the touch, like transpiranium, and it was all that separated them from the chaos beyond the tower. Looking up, Ethan saw the faintly glowing outlines of Sythian cruisers drifting behind a near ceiling of clouds.

Apparently now they were standing in the uppermost reaches of the Zenith Tower. Above them arced two scythe-shaped pinnacles. Somehow the mysterious golden dome they’d walked under had transported them from the garden on the ground floor to the top of the Zenith Tower in a matter of just a few seconds. Given the height of the building, even the fastest lift tube should have taken at least a full minute to get them up that high.

Suddenly a Nova being chased by a pair of Shell Fighters dove past their lofty vantage point. The glowing red barrels of the alien fighters flashed with pulse lasers and Pirakla missiles before disappearing from view. Looking out to the horizon, Ethan saw the night painted with hundreds of bright orange specks—the glowing engines of yet more alien fighters—alternately diving and ascending like musical notes on a sky-shaped score. Rather than weaving melodies, these notes where cacophonic when they came together, pouring out deadly rain on the helpless city below.

“How much longer do you think this will go on before . . . ” Alara trailed off quietly beside him.

He turned to her, his usually green eyes now as black and cold as space but for a pair of diamond-bright pinpricks which shone in his irises. “Before it’s all just a pile of ash?” Ethan turned back to the view. “A few days—a week at most. As soon as those cruisers start firing, it’s going to get ugly down here.”

Raised voices drew their attention away from the view, and they turned to study the others milling about inside the glass dome with them. The voices were coming from a raised walkway in the center of the room, found arching out over the golden dome that had brought them all up to the top of the Zenith. The blue capes were standing there, conferring with not one but two white-robed citizens. Ethan was sure that only one of the disciples had come with them from the garden, so the other one had to have been up here already. As Ethan looked on he realized that this one was different. He wore glowing white armor beneath his robe, and his chest bore a glowing golden version of the Avilonian emblem which the blue capes bore on their chests.

“Who is he?” Ethan asked aloud.

“That is the Grand Overseer,” someone said quietly.

Ethan turned to see one of the Avilonian soldiers standing there with them, looking up at the glowing white man.

“And? What’s that mean?” Alara asked.

“He is Omnius’s right hand, his human representative on Avilon. If anyone knows what has happened to Omnius, the Grand Overseer will.”

“Good!” Ethan set off for the raised walkway at a run.

“Wait!” the Avilonian called out behind him. “
Martalis!
”

“Name’s Ethan—” he called over his shoulder as he ran. “—not
martalis
.”

Chapter 29

“T
hey’re not following us, Captain!” Esayla Carvon called out from gravidar.

“What do you mean, they’re not following us?”

“They must have realized that we’re a decoy. The Sythian fleet is heading for Epsilon.”

Caldin frowned. The Nova squadrons they’d sent to that nav point were the only resistance the Sythians had likely encountered from the planet, so of course they were drawn to that point. “Helm, take us to Epsilon.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Caldin looked up and out the forward viewports. It was hard to see the city below past the
Intrepid’s
mighty bow, but the horizon was clearly visible, and so was the shining golden mountain of light which was the Zenith Tower. Clouds raced by them to either side. In the distance, dozens of Sythian Cruisers could be seen entering the atmosphere keel first, their hulls shining bright lavender against the night.

“We’re coming into range . . .”

“Weapons, stand by with our main beam.”

“Range!”

“Open fire!”

A brilliant red beam shot out overhead, sounding with a deafening screech as a raging torrent of pent up energy was released. The Corona beam lasted a few seconds before dissipating into the night, and it left a fiery runnel in their target’s hull. Then the target fired back with a glittering purple curtain of Pirakla missiles.

“Get ready to evade! Augment forward shields!”

The first missile impacted on their bow with a mighty splash of fire against their shields. The next three hit the same place, breaking through the weakened shield array. As soon as the explosions faded, a gaping hole opened up in the topside of their bow. The helm managed to evade the rest of that volley and certain destruction.

“Premator Beams stand by!” Caldin roared. “Open fire!” Four red beams shot out from the giant turret mounted on their bow, tracing lines of fire across their target’s hull. They flayed the Sythian cruiser open and it began drifting out of the sky. Caldin winced as she saw the enemy ship falling toward the city below. It was going to do a lot of damage when it hit.

“Give that beast everything we’ve got! We need to break it up before it reaches the surface!”

Red and blue dymium beams arced out, joined by stuttering lines of matching pulse lasers. Ripper cannons thudded through the sky, the shells’ tracer alloy painting golden streaks against the night. A volley of Silverstreak torpedoes jetted out on glittering silver contrails . . .

All of that hit the enemy with a continuous flashing of light and fiery explosions. The doomed Sythian cruiser burst into a dozen flaming pieces which rained down like meteors on the city below.

“Next target!”

“ETA sixty seven seconds to firing range . . .” Esayla called out from the gravidar station.

“Weapons, stand by!”

As if by mutual agreement, the dozens of alien cruisers hovering above the city all opened fire. Glittering clouds of missiles swarmed for the surface of the planet in a deadly purple rain.

Caldin looked on in horror. The first droplets hit, blossoming into bright orange fireballs, and the face of the city became pockmarked with them. Those pockmarks grew so numerous that they soon ran together in one endless ruin.

“We’re in range!”

“Open fire!”

The
Intrepid’s
main beam, her Corona cannon, flashed out once more, seeming to Caldin an inadequate protest to the destruction the Sythians were visiting on Avilon.

“Shell Fighters coming up fast!”

“Have our point defenses . . .” Caldin trailed off as she saw the close proximity of the fighters racing toward them. It was too late to cull their numbers, and there were too many of them—over a hundred. It wouldn’t take long for them to devour the
Intrepid
.
Their first pass alone could be deadly.

“All power to shields! Open fire on those fighters!”

Before her crew could even respond to those orders, the enemy let loose their volley—a glittering wall of Pirakla missiles which sparkled against the horizon like a field of purple stars.

The
Intrepid
answered with a volley of her own. Hailfires streaked out from her starboard side just as the nav officer turned the ship to evade.

“Brace for impact!” Caldin called out as Hailfire and Pirakla missiles crossed each others’ paths. The Hailfires reached a designated range and then blossomed into eight streaking shards each. Then the enemy volley hit their flank, and dead of night turned as bright as the inside of a sun.

*   *   *

“Corbin, can you hear me?” Atton asked as he circled the spot on the ground where Ceyla’s emergency beacon was transmitting. Her flight chair had just settled down in the square at the base of the Zenith Tower.

After an anxious silence, the comms crackled with her reply.

“I’m all right!”

A wellspring of pent-up tension in his chest released. “Good! Get under cover! It’s about to get ugly down there.”

“Roger that, SC.”

Atton’s shields hissed with a sudden rain of pulse lasers, and he pushed his Nova into a sharp dive to evade pursuit.

“I’m punching out!” Razor called over the comms just a second before his fighter winked off the grid. Atton eyed the remaining green friendly contacts amidst the sea of red enemies circling the Zenith Tower with them. Guardian Squadron was down to just three, including him. The Renegades had four.

“This is frekked up!” Eight put in. “I’ve got three squadrons on me! Nine? Where are you?”

Without so much as a parting scream, Nine vanished from the grid, and Guardian squadron was down to just two.

“I’m on it, Eight!” Atton commed back, pulling an upward spiraling Immelmann turn in order to put his squad mate ahead of him. His own pursuers lazily followed that maneuver and then his enemy missile lock alarm shrieked in warning.
Frek it!
Watching the approaching warheads on his rear scope, he waited until the last possible moment . . . and then jerked the stick left and ruddered in the same direction. The enemy warheads spiraled by so close they bathed his cockpit in a shimmering violet light. Without warning the missile lock alarm shrieked again—

Suddenly it was cut off by a deafening roar, and Atton’s fighter rocked violently with the impact.

“Shields critical,” his AI warned.

He pushed his fighter into another dive for the surface of Avilon. “Eight! I can’t get to you! Meet me on the surface; let’s lose them between the buildings.”

“Can’t make it!
Skrsssss . . .
”

And Eight was gone.

Now Atton was the last Guardian in the sky, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that. His missile lock alarm was screaming with nonstop warnings. Nosing down further, he pushed the throttle into full overdrive. Lasers flashed by his cockpit in a luminous rain. Sythian missiles soon joined them, sparkling all around him like glowing amethysts falling from the sky. The missiles beat him to the surface, exploding in a continuous roar. Fire spread out like a carpet beneath his fighter. Atton pulled up at the last possible second and sailed through the roaring flames. Snapping on a terrain following overlay, he guided his fighter through man-made canyons of low-rise buildings, shaded green to reveal them where smoke and flames obscured them from sight. Rooftop gardens burst into flames. Windows which had been bright with light and life a second ago suddenly burst outward in glittering clouds of glass.

Atton dipped down below the rooftops to follow a broad blue river of the planet’s segregating shield. The energy barrier raced by underneath, shimmering with reflected firelight. Up ahead another volley of alien missiles hit a set of twin towers, and they telescoped down on top of themselves. He pulled up at the last second to avoid the liquefying spread of debris.

As his Nova roared into the sky, he caught a glimpse of the
Intrepid.
She was firing for all she was worth, beset by a dense cloud of Shell Fighters whose glowing orange thrusters silhouetted them against the night sky like a swarm of glow bugs.

The
Intrepid
was on fire, and slowly listing toward the ground. Horrified, but mesmerized by the sight of it, Atton was unable to tear his gaze away from the doomed cruiser.

So this is the end,
he thought.
The final frekking end of everything.

*   *   *

As soon as Ethan reached the raised walkway where the grand overseer stood, he saw the blue-caped soldier he’d given a plasma rifle to turn that rifle on him.

“Stop or I shoot,” blue cape said.

Ethan held up his hands and nodded to the grand overseer. “Where is your god?”

“Qua est hic?” the overseer demanded, looking Ethan up and down quickly with undisguised scorn. “You dare to approach me,
martalis?
You are unworthy of my attention.”

“Yea, yea, I get that a lot. I want to know what you’re doing about that—” Ethan gestured to the city beyond the dome-topped tower where they stood. Noticing something new in his periphery, he turned to see Sythian missiles raining from the sky. The cruisers had opened fire. He watched, his mouth agape as those missiles began to impact on the surface. Explosions sprouted like mushrooms, setting the city aflame.

“I have done all that can be done,” the overseer replied. Omnius is recovering from an unexpected shut down. It will take some time before He is back online and all of His functions restored.”

“You don’t have time!” Ethan said. “Where are your defenses?”

“We will regain control of them soon . . .” the overseer replied, turning away from Ethan to place his hands upon a glowing white sphere which sat at waist height, just above the railings of the raised walkway where they stood. The sphere grew brighter at the overseer’s touch, and a holographic display appeared in the air. A moment later, the overseer said something in his language, his tone full of reverence. As one, the Avilonians standing under the dome fell to their knees and bowed their heads.

Then, abruptly, the dome was bathed in a blinding light. For a split second Ethan thought the Sythians had found them and that the light was from an exploding warhead, but absent was the anticipated
boom
, and the light remained. He looked up to see a bright spheroid now hovering between the two scythe-shaped pinnacles arcing out above the dome. It looked vaguely like the spiral and eye-shaped center Ethan had seen emblazoned on the Avilonians’ armor. The light was so bright that it turned back the night and bathed the surrounding city in a facsimile of daylight.