The Ghost Fleet Page 16

  “If Jeryl found out that I agreed to this and something goes wrong, he’ll never forgive me,”

  “If something does go wrong, honey, there won’t be a Jeryl to not forgive you,” Ashley said.

  The Captain turned to look at her. Ashley kept her gaze steady. She’d meant what she had said.

  Kaine had all he wanted. He had The Seeker. He had Jeryl. There was nothing preventing him from blasting the Armada attack fleet right out of space.

  “Do it,” the captain said.

  Ashley nodded, turned, and strode out of the CNC.

  Chapter 30

  Tira

  Tira flew the shuttle as though it was a Hunter. She banked left and right, yanked on the stick to spin away from laser blasts, and lit up as many Syndicate shuttles as she could. Those that weren’t destroyed by her were left severely damaged.

  Tira, and the rest of her eight-man fireteam, were doing their best to make a bee-line for the Syndicate HQ, a giant space station that looked like an old Terran station, retrofitted for the space pirates. It was a massive station, looking like four wheels connected by a large axle, with each wheel spinning in alternate directions.

  Tyreesian and pirate shuttles were like little ants, scurrying between the station and other ships, trying to get the hell out of there now that Armada ships had arrived.

  Tira was flying with purpose. Somewhere during the course of losing The Seeker and getting picked up by The Manila, Tira had come to a realization of who she was and what she was feeling. She hadn’t had much in the way of family growing up, or at least not what was stereotypically called family.

  She really was too pretty to be taken seriously, or at least too cute. That’s what one of her professors had called her, the cute cadet. She had taken it as a compliment at first, but it wasn’t meant to be, not if you knew the professor.

  When he had said the word ‘cute’, he had meant it in a defamatory way, like Tira wasn’t meant to be anything but that.

  When she found out about this, it hurt her in ways she didn’t think she could be hurt. She had always prided herself on being strong-minded and strong-willed, so how could some old, codgy, well-past-his-prime professor hurt her with a simple phrase?

  She had connected to the people around her. She had let them into her life, and come to like them and feel comfortable around them, especially the captain and his wife.

  Tira had—for the first time that she could remember—felt scared for someone else when Ashley had been left behind in her shuttle. She had known that Jeryl was going to make sure Ashley didn’t try to chase him, but she still had felt a pang of fear and worry when Ashley’s shuttle didn’t arrive at the rendezvous coordinates. That worry went away, and multiplied exponentially at the same time, when Ashley’s voice came in over comms requesting pickup.

  Ashley had become a dear, dear friend to her. She was happy for her pregnancy, and was even daydreaming of being ‘Auntie Tira’ sometimes. The thought of playing with the baby made her smile as she swung the shuttle around a pair of pirate vessels, sending blasts raking across their bows. One of her team who was sitting next to her shook his head, mistaking her smile. She didn't care.

  Ashley was important to her, and so was Jeryl. He was unlike any other captain she had ever researched, or worked with, or read about. There were other captains that cared for their people, laughed with them, ate with them, even died for them, but something about Jeryl set him apart. There was just something about how he took care of his people that stirred something within her.

  She respected him like no other person, even looked up to him. There was nothing romantic in her thoughts, at least her conscious thoughts. It was merely respect. Yes, she loved him, but loved him as a crew member loves their captain, as a friend loves a friend, as a sister loves a brother. She told herself that this was the type of person that would make the various galaxies better.

  Which, of course, was a problem. A big fucking problem.

  “Ma’am, we have a clear line for the station.”

  Tira pushed the shuttle hard and fast that it began to shake. She was pushing the shuttle beyond its natural capabilities, trying to get to the station as quick as possible. She had to save Jeryl—his baby would need its father.

  “Ma’am?”

  Ignoring her co-pilot, she yanked the shuttle to and fro, avoiding enemy fire and near collisions. Then, as a panel fell off the side wall, they were at the station, landing in a nearby hangar. At least six other shuttles were docking at the same time, one of them in the same hangar. She wasn’t going to be alone.

  They rushed off the shuttle, guns ready.

  “Sam! Get me a schematic!”

  “Got it. There’s three possible locations for the bridge, ma’am.”

  “Three?”

  “No one really knows what the hell this thing looks like inside. Apparently, the old leaders of the Syndicate kept switching the locations of the bridge…new leader, new bridge.”

  “Shit. Closest one?”

  “Four decks below us.”

  Kaine wouldn’t keep the bridge he was using that close to the cargo area, would he?

  She didn’t want to waste time, but they had to find Jeryl and Kaine. “Down we go. Hey, you! Yes, you!” she yelled to the other team leader. “Bridge, four decks down, let’s take it out.”

  The team leader, a large dark-skinned man, nodded and motioned for his team to follow. Tira led them out a side door and into the outer passage. It was sort of disorienting being in that hall, since it constantly curved to the right. They had no clear line of sight farther than fifteen feet.

  Ten feet from the door, Syndicate soldiers came running down the hall. Tira dove to the ground, firing at the nearest soldier, feeling a perverted sense of pleasure from hearing him scream as his knee exploded. A brief fire fight ensued, which was easily won by the Armada. The Syndicate soldiers had been running too fast to slow down, and they were caught by a quick burst of gun fire. Only two of the nine soldiers managed to fire back, and both missed their targets.

  Motioning with her left hand, Tira led the way at a slow jog, rifle at the ready. Ten yards further around the outer hall, they turned down a hallway towards the central shaft. In regular intervals down the hall were small chutes with a fireman pole in it.

  Every other shaft, she and Tua, the other team leader that she had decided was definitely from Earth’s Hawaii, sent two soldiers down, with orders to drop four decks and secure the hallway. She and Tua ran to the center shaft itself and called for the lift. When it arrived, Tira leaned in, pressed the button for four decks down, then stepped out. Backtracking ten feet, she and Tua slid down the shaft, the Hawaiian man leading the way.

  They left the shaft four decks lower and stepped into the middle of a firefight that was quickly becoming desperate for her people. Using her fingers to show Tua she was counting, she counted to five, then dove into the hallway, firing. Tua dove after her, tossing a flash grenade, then grabbing, setting, and tossing a stun grenade before she hit the ground, rolling.

  The two quick booms, one right after the other, set Syndicate soldiers screaming in pain. Tira could see several Syndicate soldiers with their hands at their eyes as she rushed down the hall, while several more were convulsing on the ground.

  With deadly efficiency, she and Tua ran through them. Tira shoot the ones on her right, while Tua focused on the ones on the left. Their people ran up behind them, finishing off the pirates that were missed.

  Knowing that the firefight hadn't been quiet and that there was no way that they had any sort of surprise left on their side, Tira blasted the bridge door controls, forcing them open. She ran through the gun fire that greeted her, blasting away. Four pirates later, the now defunct bridge was theirs. Only one of their own had fallen.

  “Shit. Sam!” Tira called out. “Sam!”

  “Sorry, ma’am. Sam was the one hit. Right in the heart, ma’am. He never felt anything,” Jessie, the only other female in her fireteam, told h
er. Tira could see Jessie fighting back tears: Sam was her cousin.

  “I’m sorry, Jessie. We’ll take care of the bastard responsible, I promise.”

  Jessie looked up, a slight smirk on her lips as she wiped her eyes. Nodding, she punched up a holo of the station on her wrist computer. “As you can see, the other two possibilities are above us. If I was Kaine, ma’am, I’d actually pick the location in the center. It’s closest to the hangar bays and the thickest armor.”

  Looking at the holo and counting the decks with her eyes, Tira nodded. “Tua! We got some climbing to do, the bridge we want is twelve decks up. Tag team or divide and conquer?”

  Tua’s deep baritone voice rumbled from his barrel-sized chest. “Tag team. Better odds.” He flexed, whether purposefully or by sheer habit, but his left arm split his uniform, exposing a hint of a tattoo on his bicep.

  If this had been a more peaceful time, Tira would take him on.

  “Okay, tag team it is,” she said, flashing Tua a smile. Then, she turned to Jessie. “Find us a way up.”

  Chapter 31

  Jeryl

  The space station’s command and control center hugged the inner rim, far from the docks and easily-destroyed windows circling the habitation and relaxation sections. Like most deep space vessels, it was built with comfort in mind. After all, if you were stuck running a de facto colony for years at a time, why not at least make it a pleasant experience?

  Despite that, Kaine didn't seem to care for any of the CNC's comfort. In fact, the way he paced back and forth between consoles made it look as if he were operating in a spartan station. Adding to that effect, a tall exoskeleton armor was propped up in one of the corners—one of the prototypes he had managed to steal during his previous raids.

  Jeryl slowly regained consciousness, strapped to a lounge chair with full view of the information displays. The battle wasn’t going well for Kaine; soldiers were flooding in the docking ring, and dozens of temporary docks were blasted in the station’s rings.

  Jeryl licked his lips and mumbled, “Kaine…isn’t this enough? Save your men’s lives and tell them to surrender.”

  Kaine tapped his collar every time something new flashed across one of the screens. “Beta team—move on to the attack team on Deck 3. Delta, secure the armory. Alpha, pull back—you’ve lost the docks.”

  Then, he glanced at Jeryl and snarled. “Those thugs are worthless. I can replace them on any of a hundred colonies in the Union and beyond. If they die, they die.” He pulled up an outside camera and directed it at one of the Hunters darting around the station. “Not like you don’t have skin in the game. You know who’s piloting that?”

  Jeryl stared at it for a few moments, watching as it darted around the ever-increasing field of broken ships, spent missile casings and dead flesh—until he recognized a maneuver.

  It was something he knew Ashley was especially fond of, an attack not in the books but one guaranteed to leave her opponents with a black eye. “She wouldn’t…”

  Kaine nodded. “Yup. I already sent in the order while you were still out. She won’t make it here alive.” He walked over and undid the captain’s bindings. “There’s nowhere for you to go. Might as well make yourself comfortable.”

  “Tell me, Kaine. Is any of this worth it? Is there a goal behind all of this death and destruction? Or do you just want to watch the galaxy burn? ” Jeryl walked over to the screens and watched as Ashley’s Hunter destroyed another enemy fighter.

  “Can’t it be both?” Kaine replied, zooming in on Ashley’s Hunter as it dodged a round of missiles fired by the station’s defense platform.

  “The Kaine I knew understood that you can’t act on feelings. Makes for lousy plans—and even worse, causality reports,” Jeryl retorted, placing his hand on the screen, “Shit, I didn’t want her to do this…If she—and the baby is hurt, I’ll make sure your death is slow.”

  “A concerned father. Lovely,” Kaine said with a bark of laughter. “Talk about running on emotion. I knew she had to be a fool to marry you, and this proves it!” He walked beside Jeryl and put his hand on the captain’s shoulder, “But I won’t call off the concentrated fire order. She made her choice.”

  Jeryl elbowed Kaine and grabbed his shirt, “You fucking bastard! Why are you doing this? I would have understood if you appeared from an alley and shot me, or planted a bomb on my ship, but causing a fucking war that might drag other races into the line of fire? The Tyreesians won’t hesitate to jump in if they think they can get an advantage…”

  He pushed Kaine against the wall.

  “Is that your end goal? To thrust us back into war?”

  Moving fast, Kaine headbutted Jeryl, forcing him to take a few disoriented steps back. Then he tapped his collar.

  “Understood. All units fall back, evacuate if you can. I’ll be joining you shortly.” He looked at Jeryl with dead eyes as he stood up. “That would’ve left you with everything you had built. I don't want you to play hero in a war again, Jeryl. No, you need to be punished with something a bit worse than death and war, I’m afraid.”

  Kaine went and sat down at the terminal. “Curious. I honestly thought I’d win this… After all, who would send a fleet like this to deal with some pirates?”

  “You should’ve known we would pull out all the stops once your named cropped up. It didn’t help that you decided to infiltrate the Armada, Kaine. Really stupid move,” Jeryl answered, walking over to the exoskeleton armor, its figure menacing and imposing. “Speaking about stupid moves—shouldn’t this be in your fighter’s hands? Kind of a waste up here.”

  Kaine snorted and pulled out a shock gun. “You’ll see.”

  Then, he pulled the trigger.

  Pain shot through Jeryl’s body, lighting every nerve in his limbs on fire as everything from breath to thought became impossible from moment to moment. Jeryl collapsed on the ground, mind blinded by the surge of electrons flowing from the simple device in his old friend and now mortal enemy’s hand.

  While he laid on the ground and gasped for air as his body slowly regained control, he felt electricity explode in his spine again.

  “I wouldn’t move if I were you. The shocker will activate whenever you move,” Kaine said, setting the weapon down on the console and then walking over to him. “I wouldn’t want you to die just yet. No, you need to see the price of betrayal.”

  “You can still stop this. Just one order, tell them to stop,” Jeryl said, slowly twitching and dragging the cord connected to the shocker.

  “Apologies, I thought you heard me. I already told them to pull back. You see, the only murders committed after this will be done by me.”

  He activated the exoskeleton armor and started getting into it, the plates slowly adjusting to Kaine's body. “By the way—your wife is on board. I think I’ll give her a nice blast when she walks in the door, and then step on you.”

  While Kaine got into the suit, Jeryl yanked hard on the cord. The pain was nearly unbearable, but he knew that this was his one chance. After a few seconds, the control stick was at his fingertips.

  Chapter 32

  Jeryl

  “I hope your men are ready. I know I am,” Kaine said, a calm but disturbing smile on his lips.

  Jeryl didn’t respond—he didn’t want to dignify the taunt with an answer.

  In his exoskeleton suit, Kaine was a hulking presence. He was primed for a fight, and all Jeryl could do was hope the Armada’s soldiers were up to the challenge.

  Lying there injured, Jeryl felt as helpless as he ever had. Even though he had managed to rip the cord of the shocker out, he still felt electricity twitching under his muscles.

  Groaning, he tried to move. He could already hear the Armada soldiers approaching. Kaine kept on smiling; it was one of the most sadistic smiles Jeryl could ever remember seeing.

  Then the faceplate came down, hiding Kaine’s smile.

  It can’t end like this, Jeryl thought to himself.

  The fighting men and wom
en of the Armada were right outside the CNC of the station now.

  Kaine’s fists, covered in exo-armor, were clenched.

  It didn’t matter how many people were out there. They didn’t stand a chance.

  Kaine is the most cunning and ruthless fighter I’ve ever known, Jeryl thought. They aren’t going to be able to stop him.

  The door to the CNC flew open. There were more Armada soldiers standing outside the door than could ever manage to fit through it. They were going to have to wait to pile in, which Kaine probably knew. It was all happening like he intended it to happen.

  “Disperse! You’re sitting ducks!” Jeryl exclaimed, trying to save the soldiers before it was too late.

  His voice was drowned out in the chaos.

  Jeryl could see the first soldiers, guns drawn, entering the room. They saw Kaine in his exo—armor, one of the most sophisticated pieces of tech in the galaxy, for the first time. Unfortunately for them, they wouldn’t have very long to soak it all in.

  Kaine rushed toward the soldiers, feeling invincible thanks to his armor. Though the soldiers had their guns drawn, Kaine was on them before they could make a move. He raised his fist, cocked it, and with all his might punched one of the men right in the breastplate.

  The force of the blow was so powerful that Jeryl could even feel its reverberations. The sounds of bones breaking filled the CNC. The soldier who had taken the punch went flying back; he traveled with such force that he served as a bowling ball, making the Armada’s crew topple like dominoes.

  The punched soldier was clearly dead; nobody could survive a blow like that.

  Kaine grabbed the guns out of the hands of two of the soldiers and tossed them aside. He grabbed one of them by the throat and swung him around to smash him into another soldier. The second man fell to the ground, stunned. The first soldier wasn’t as lucky. Kaine clinched his hand around his throat tighter and tighter.