Morgan's Choice (37 page)

‘
Starliner, you are not cleared for
take-off. Repeat, you are not cleared for take-off. Return to your
holding position.’

“Too bad,” Morgan muttered, grinning, as she
raised the landing gear. They’d have to be out of here fast. There
were still fighters in the hangars.

“Where did those flights of fighters go?”
Ravindra asked.

She’d checked. “Krystor Central. Don’t worry,
I know we have to be quick.”

‘
Starliner you are ordered to
return to your station at once.’
The voice had become strident,
demanding.

The ship rose above the height of the
hangars. On the landing pads a few figures scrambled toward five
fighters being drawn out. Last light burnished the tops of the
mountains; the jungle already slumbered in the twilight. Beyond the
base a line of white marked the beach and then the open ocean.

She pushed the power and headed toward
Krystor’s largest moon.

“Seems we have company,” Ravindra said as he
deployed his helmet.

The five fighters she’d seen, streaming up
after them. Morgan raised her own helmet. Action stations.

‘
I know that’s you, Selwood. You
should have cooperated. Now you will die. Along with your Mirka
lover. I had hoped to take my time with you, Ravindra. I’ll have to
settle for second best.
’
Asbarthi’s voice, savage and bitter.

She chuckled. She did love flying and the
thrill of the chase just added to the rush. “They have to catch me,
first.”

Ravindra tensed. “Look.
Yogina
.”

Small arrowhead ships filled the upper half
of the screen. Behind them came the assault ships and there within
the nearest moon’s orbit a massive grey shape occulted the stars.
In infrared light the object glowed, much hotter than its
surrounds, the trailing gases already expanding and cooling in its
wake. She forgot to breathe. The mother ship itself. Oh fuck. With
that thing there she had no chance of making shift-space.

An icy trickle of fear slid down her
backbone. What a choice. Get shot up by the manesan fighters or… or
what?
Curlew
hadn’t
been shot up. But why? Why?

Ravindra slammed the ship’s comms into send.
“Asbarthi, get that base on full alert. The planet is under attack.
I repeat the planet is under attack. Have the population evacuate
the cities and seek refuge underground. Do it immediately.”

‘
So you
are
there, Ravindra. You expect me to believe
you
?’ The man’s voice
was gleeful, oily. Morgan could almost see him gloating.

Ravindra snarled his frustration. “This is
not a hoax, Asbarthi. This is a
Yogina
attack. Hasn’t your control tower alerted you? Advise all
cities. This enemy is implacable.”

Asbarthi laughed. ‘
Nice try, Admiral
.’ The sound of the klaxons in the
background almost drowned out the last word. Then
silence.

Chapter
Forty-Three

Asbarthi grabbed the microphone from the
controller’s hand. “Ten thousand credits to the pilot who brings
down that Starliner.” The lad looked up at him and back at Iniman,
who said nothing.

If Ravindra thought he’d escape, he was
deluded. He certainly wasn’t going to let that bitch use her mind
against
Bunyada
. Lakshmi
would be disappointed but there it was.

“
I’d best get back to
Hai Suri
Devagnam,” he said to Iniman. “She’ll be
waiting for me in your office.”

Leaving the makeshift admiral in the
control room, he strode outside onto the pathway beside the landing
pads. The wild blare of sirens stopped him in his tracks. The
shield generators were cranking up, the sky around the towers
crackling with the glitter of ionized particles. Why? Would
Ravindra’s fleet have returned? Surely not. A drill, then. Yes. It
must be a drill. He walked on, unconcerned, while the sirens
assailed his ears.

He walked through the empty reception
area, into the base commander’s office. No Lakshmi. She wasn’t
answering her
sanvad
, either.
Those blasted sirens were still blaring. You’d think they’d turn
them off. Irritated, he glanced up at the screen on the commander’s
wall. His mouth went dry.

Ships coming down in waves; small,
arrow-shaped ships with narrow profiles. They were labeled as
unidentified. And above them, strange girder-like vessels.

He turned up the audio. Panicked voices
shouted at each other.
What are they? Are they ours? Fleet? No answer
when hailed. It says they’re not manesan. So what are they? Look.
They’ve just taken out a couple of our fighters.
He checked, just in time to see one of the
CL30s take a hit. As the pilot’s life capsule speared out into
space the attacking fighter fired again and the ship disappeared in
an expanding ball of debris. He kept his eye on the capsule as its
engines fired and it headed toward the ground. The strange ship
turned. A burst of fire shattered the capsule. His heart thudded.
Whoever they were, they didn’t take prisoners. What had Ravindra
said? Aliens.

The alien attackers were in the atmosphere
now. Surely the fighters would return, beat them off. The shield
around the generator tower was visible, a shimmering veil of blue
reaching out, stretching to touch the expanding swirling ripples
from the tower further down. It was almost like being underwater,
lying on your back on the seabed and looking up. Just as the two
joined and locked a spatter of energy flared red along the blue. A
moment later the underside of the alien ship that had fired the
blast hurtled past.

His bowels emptied. He had to get out of
here, escape to Krystor Central or anywhere. He’d find a skimmer,
drive out. The sudden chatter on the audio ran hot.
What is that? It
can’t be a ship… can it? It must be twenty klicks
long
.

Fascinated in spite of himself, he looked at
the screen. A vast rectangle, long and narrow, blocked the stars,
showed no running lights.

The picture flickered, wavered, went black. A
blast shook the building. The floor trembled. A chair clattered to
the floor. He grabbed a desk. Surely not another tremor? The
shield. Had they destroyed the shield?

He staggered to the doorway, sucking
dust-filled air into his lungs. The generator tower was a
smoldering stump surrounded by fragments. Narrow arrow heads cut
through the air. And here came the larger ships, the girders,
dropping through the atmosphere. He started to back away, toward
the door to the lobby. An explosion ripped through the air and the
ceiling behind him collapsed. No escape that way.

Shouts and running feet. From the shelter of
the hangar across the way a squad of soldiers shouldered their
weapons and fired at the assault ships. Somewhere else the
boom-hiss of missile launches split the air. A projectile struck
one of the attackers. It buckled and twisted, the nose pitched up
and it fell, stern first, into the ground.

“Yay, take that you bastards.” The shout rang
out from the soldiers, gleeful at the small victory. Even as the
roar of its ruin dissipated, half a dozen fighters ensured the
missile launcher would not have another opportunity. A deadly hail
of debris rained from the sky, pieces of the building the falling
ship had crushed and fragments of the missile launcher. Clouds of
dust and stinking smoke drifted in the air. Asbarthi slipped out of
the door to the landing pads and scuttled along, looking for a
vehicle or an escape route. Anything. Fear clutched at his throat,
turned his legs to jelly.

Still more ships drifted down. Thirty meters
up, spindly legs extended, jointed like an insect’s. As the landing
ships slowed, two fighters strafed the ground, taking a low-level
run along the ground in front of the office. Three soldiers
vanished, disintegrating in a red splatter of body parts. The rest
bolted.

One of those ships was going to land here;
right here in front of him. The air swirled as the thing descended.
Asbarthi crouched behind a bush and prayed no one would notice him.
He peered through branches in time to see six legs grind into the
paving. They creaked as the girder-like body swung down between
them, almost to the ground and rebounded with a sigh, so that the
base stood maybe a meter and a half above ground. A hatch opened
underneath. A creature emerged, its weapon raised; another
followed, then another. Tiny beings, the height and shape of
children.

Five, six, seven until ten of them surrounded
their ship. At some invisible order they formed two lines and
headed for one of the streets into the base, while more child-sized
figures tumbled out of the hatches. Asbarthi shrank into the
shadows.

The aliens advanced, grey-suited, black
weapons in gloved hands. Their heads swung from side to side. A
volley of fire tore at them and a few fell. Defenders, fighting
back. From where he crouched all he could see was aliens advancing
in the face of the fire. They didn’t stop to help the fallen; they
made no sound when they were hit.

“Bastards! I’ll get you, you bastards.”

The massive figure of a fleet trooper leaned
against a hangar, an energy rifle in his hands spitting red bolts.
The trooper had attracted attention. A squad of aliens advanced on
him. Now was his chance, while they were otherwise engaged.

He ran, sprinting down the alleys between the
troop barracks. The whole base plunged into darkness, black as the
pits of Hell. Maybe the generators were destroyed. He slowed a
little. He’d need to be more careful. The lights might be out but
he could see the flash and flare of beam weapons and… fire. Yes,
something was burning. He had to get out of here. Footsteps,
running. He flattened himself against a building. Oh dear maker.
Aliens. They came toward him, two files, one on each side of the
alley. He eased away, fear a claw clutching at his heart. One of
them raised its weapon.

A powerful surge of energy howled past him,
fired from behind. And again. The aliens blasted backwards. Relief
flooded his limbs, leaving them trembling.

A massive hand fell on his shoulder. “You
okay?”

“Fine. Fine. Thank you.” He looked up at the
trooper. “You saved my life.”

The trooper made to walk away with his
squad.

“No, don’t go. I’ll pay you to keep me safe.
Ten thousand credits. Fifty thousand. I’m Sitivan Asbarthi. I’m a
part of the new government. I’ll pay you.”

The trooper stopped, eyes narrowed. A few of
the soldiers exchanged glances.

“
Yeah, we’ll keep you safe. Brad, Jag, you
keep
Sur
Asbarthi
safe. Let’s get out of here.”

Almost sobbing with relief, Asbarthi hurried
between the two troopers to a combat assault vehicle. He scrambled
into a seat. “Where are you going?”

“Off to the jungle. No point dying here.”

“No, no point at all. I can’t thank you
enough.” He looked at the insignia on the man’s uniform. He didn’t
understand the officer ranks, let alone the also-rans. “You’re a
sergeant?”

“
Chief,” said his savior. “Name’s Prakesh.
Trust me,
Sur
Asbarthi,
we’ll keep you very safe.” He chuckled.

Chapter
Forty-Four

The Starliner lurched. Missile strike on the
rear shield.

“
Pah.” Ravindra slammed his fist on the arm
of the chair. “He’s cut off.” He stared at the screen, where the
manesan fighters were closing fast.

The chatter from the pilots ran
hot.
What is
that? It can’t be a ship… can it? It must be twenty klicks
long
.

A ship. But whose? Not ours, not
the Fleet’s. An alien
.

She switched off the audio. “I’m trying to
think. Why didn’t the
Yogina
shoot up my ship before? They couldn’t see us, they
wouldn’t know if
Curlew
was one
of your ships or not. So why?”

Think, Morgan. Use that mighty
brain. What did you do?
She went back through the events from the time the sensors
had first seen the fighters. Nothing. They’d done nothing. Tried to
contact them, but that was later. What was the configuration of the
ship? What was on, what was off.

An idiotic idea jumped to mind. “The distress
signal. It’s all I can think of.” Her heart throbbing, she entered
the sequence, an endlessly repeating succession of zeroes and ones.
Dit dit dit… dat dat dat… dit dit dit… dat dat dat…

The
Yogina
fighters closed.

Rigid with fear, Morgan groped for
Ravindra’s gloved hand. He interlocked his fingers with hers.
“Hope, Admiral. Hope.” Her heart beat so hard she was sure he could
hear. His fingers squeezed hers.

The
Yogina
swept on, larger and larger in the view screen. Dark grey
hulls, a cockpit closer to the point than the back, slightly curved
wings.

She swallowed, sweat trickling down her
hairline. This could be it. Stare death in the face.

Flashes erupted from the muzzles in the
wings of the leading ships.
Wrong vector. Not us
. They swept past, attacking the manesan
fighters.