Aurora Rising: The Complete Collection (116 page)

She had to let the notion go in order to concentrate on scaling a three-meter-high pile of stone and marble blocking the street. It was the remains of one of the few artistic buildings on Messium, an art and entertainment museum. She heard Noah talking quietly to Raina behind her.

“Remember, keep your body low to the rubble and move slow. You’ll want to scramble, but too much movement will attract attention.”

Kennedy smiled to herself. The girls had taken an instant liking to him, doubtless on account of him being roguishly handsome and sporting a demeanor to match. He had responded, somewhat to her surprise, by becoming their friend in a big-brother sort of way.

Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to figure him out. He was such a bundle of contradictions—deflecting everything with a light-hearted, blasé attitude, yet startlingly intelligent and clearly well-educated and informed on many topics. He—

—a scream behind them shattered the eerie stillness. Kennedy had crested the height of the rubble and started down the other side but instinctively whipped about at the sound.

One of the patrol ships had crossed from the previous intersection as the other group had emerged out of the protection of the buildings to begin scaling the rubble. The debris spanned the width of the street, and there was nowhere for them to hide.

Braelyn and Jonas had gone first in case he needed assistance climbing, which meant they were the most exposed and had no hope of getting back to street level in time to run.

Thomaso signaled frantically for them to try, until he recognized it was of no use. Braelyn covered her son with her body and huddled amidst the stone.

Kennedy watched on in horror as Thomaso took off running toward the closest building…and burst into flames meters away from safety.

The scream had come from Sylvie. She stood at the base of the rubble, frozen in terror, powerless to move though if she had done so immediately she might have lived.

As the ship shifted its focus to Sylvie, Kennedy saw Noah wrap his arms around Raina from behind and drag her struggling body up and over the crest of the debris.

“Let me go! That’s my sister!”

“And you’ll share her fate if you don’t quiet down!” His gaze shot to Kennedy. “We’ve got to move,
now
.”

“I know.” She shook her head roughly and began scrambling along the rubble, any concern for subterfuge gone as the air glowed red behind them and another scream pierced the air only to be abruptly cut silent.

Raina was crying and gasping in air but moving under her own power, survival instinct having won out over grief. They hit the street at a full run. The alien material in the pouch slung over her chest pounded into her hip as she sprinted for refuge, any refuge.

It came in the form of a sense booth of all things, tucked in beside what could have been a clothing store. They crammed inside the tiny space and forced the door shut less than a second before the ship rounded the corner. Raina buried her sobs in Noah’s chest in an effort to muffle them.

Kennedy’s eyes met Noah’s above the girl’s head. His glistened with naked pain, and she knew he was thinking the same thing as she: did they get Jonas killed? Did Braelyn and Thomaso and Sylvie die because of them? His head shook in answer to the silent question…but it lacked conviction.

It was at that moment she decided it was all an act—the bravado, the jokes, the carefree attitude, the claims to not care about anything. His soul was seared by as much anguish as hers. She doubted she’d ever get him to admit it to her, but she thought if they lived through this, she just might try anyway.

After ten minutes that felt like ten hours, she oh-so-carefully moved the door open a few centimeters and peered out. The street was inky and silent.

She nodded to Noah and they worked the door open—in the absence of power it was fussy about complying—and continued on.

It took another twelve minutes to reach the station. Her heart broke at the knowledge they had been so close. Their companions had died steps from, if not safety, at least a chance.

From the outside the station resembled the rest of the buildings they had passed—broken and crumbled. But it wasn’t a crater. She had feared it would be a crater.

The relief of four walls surrounding her cascaded through her in a rush; she sank against the nearest one, lightheaded.

“You feel all right?”

She jumped at the realization Noah had come over. He held out a water packet, which she greedily accepted. While she guzzled it he knelt down and began feeling carefully along her leg.

“Your cut’s opened back up. We should get it cleaned and re-bandaged.”

Her head shook as she took a final gulp of the water. The packet was drained, so she tossed it cavalierly in the corner. “It can wait. I’m getting the fuck off this planet, and I’m getting off now.”

He chuckled softly. “That’s my girl. Let’s see what we can find.”

His girl?
Her nose scrunched up at the phrasing, but he had turned away. She motioned for Raina to follow them and stepped into the hallway.

She nearly got shot for the effort.

A young soldier—he looked to be barely past puberty—pointed a military-issue Daemon at them. His hand shook so fiercely the gun was in danger of falling from his grip.

Noah stepped up, hands open in submission. “Easy there. We’re good guys.”

The kid’s eyes were wide as saucers, but he shakily lowered the gun. “I heard noises and thought one of those creatures was coming inside.”

“I think they’re probably too big to fit, but I can understand the concern. Any chance you have a working shuttle hiding back there?”

“Uh…sort of?”

Kennedy gazed at the bay of wrecked shuttles in dismay. The last of her adrenaline seeped away at the sight of the widespread destruction. It occurred to her then, for perhaps the first time in this long nightmare, that she was going to die.

“No, you’re not.”

She spun to Noah in surprise. Had she voiced her doomsday proclamation aloud? She didn’t think so. Had he merely read her countenance, judged the set of her jaw? “Noah,
look
. No way are any of these ships taking off.”

“Nope they are not. Come with me.” He reached out and grasped her hand in his.

She allowed herself to be guided to the far corner of the bay and into some kind of workroom. Inside were three soldiers working on two shuttles suspended on racks in the middle of the room.

“I found people. Even better, I found intact shuttles.”

The soldiers spun to them, more relief than wariness in their faces. After brief confusion, introductions ensued.

The interior workroom was recessed enough to have survived the initial blitz; so long as the rest of the building overhead remained standing it would remain standing as well.

By sheer dumb luck the two shuttles were brought to the workroom for repairs hours before the attack. Unfortunately, the repairs needed were extensive. The LEN reactor powering one had died, and the left thruster in the other was shot. Her suggestion to scalp the LEN reactor from the shuttle with the busted thruster was a no-go, however. More soldiers were alive elsewhere in the building, so an escape was going to require both shuttles.

“Did you check the moderator feeds into the reactor core?”

She received blank stares in response. Good lord, did the military employ anybody they picked up off the street as technicians these days? She looked over at Noah and sighed. “I’ll crack open the reactor. Think you can salvage some parts from the wrecked shuttles in the bay to fix the thruster?”

He smiled, and she sensed her heart lift a little. Maybe they stood a chance of making it after all. Then he gave her a flourished bow. “As the lady wishes, so shall she receive.”

“Smart-ass. Get out of here.”

As soon as he had departed she directed her attention to the others. “I need a shielded containment box, radiation gloves and a micro welding torch. And a crescent wrench.”

For the next hour she forgot about the aliens and the roving ships and the charred bodies. For a time she even forgot Sylvie’s final scream as she buried herself in the delicate work of replacing the LEN reactor core’s fuel. She was only vaguely aware of the activity occurring across the room at the other shuttle, except for the time or two Noah let loose a particularly colorful curse. She assumed it meant they were making progress.

She and one of the technicians were tightening the casing around the reactor when several soldiers ran into the room.

“You’re not going to believe this, but we’re picking up Alliance ships near the planet!”

She leapt off the floor, ignoring the painful response of her leg. “You didn’t get commun— oh shit, we can talk to them.”

“No we can’t, ma’am. And who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter. And yes, you can.” If Alliance ships were here she had to believe her message to Alex’s mother had gotten through. Not because the military wouldn’t otherwise have known Messium was under assault—she imagined the entire galaxy must know by now—but because no way were they insane enough to try to mount a counter-offensive if they couldn’t talk to one another.

She turned to the technician helping her. “You know how to finish re-installing it and hook up the cabling?”

“Yes, ma’am. That I can do.”

“Great. I’ll be back.” She crossed to the soldiers at the doorway. “Take me to the comm room.”

SPACE, NORTHEAST QUADRANT

M
ESSIUM
S
TELLAR
S
YSTEM

The blast of an exploding frigate flared in the viewport. In the tiniest of blessings, it was far enough away the shockwave didn’t strain the motion dampeners.

The
Orion
along with two frigates under its charge, the
Concord
and the
Provence
, continued to fly and shoot. But mostly they ran.

The ships that remained operational remained so primarily because the battle had evolved into a game of cat and mouse. They ran, the alien vessels chased.

And for all the firepower of the superdreadnoughts, in the end it would be the damn swarmers that defeated them. Shields withstood their weapons when fired in small quantities, but there were simply too many—

“Sir, I’m receiving a communication from the ground.”

Malcolm spun around to the comms station. “Relay it.”

“It says survivors intend to depart in two shuttles from the capital’s downtown area. They’re requesting the status of any corridors and advice on the safest route.”

“Tell them no corridors are passable, but if they can get to…” he found and zoomed the planetary map “…N 36.4° E 12.2°, the skies should be free of enemy ships.”

Only two shuttles. But two beat zero. Someone had been alive down on the planet, and they were escaping, possibly due to the fleet’s efforts. Rychen had earlier reported the three stealth ships were able to recover fifteen survivors near the base.

Altogether, it was a terribly small victory and yet so far from nothing.

“They’ve received the instructions, sir, and expect to depart in four minutes.”

Shuttles wouldn’t be equipped for interstellar travel. They were going to need a ride. He checked the tactical map. The
Provence
was closer but it had the attention of a dozen or so swarmers. For the moment his ship did not.

Colonel Jenner:  Admiral, we’ve received a communication from survivors groundside. Two shuttles are preparing to flee the planet. I’ve directed the shuttles to a safe exit route and am headed to retrieve them.

Admiral Rychen:  Understood.

It was a curt reply, but they had all devolved into curt replies. The man was serving as the conductor of a symphony of bedlam and death, his sole tool a badly crippled communications system.

“Helmsman Paena: set an intercept course for those shuttles. Systems: when we’re within half a megameter, get the shuttle bay door open. I expect we can’t talk to them once they’re in the shuttles, but they’ll get the idea.”