Death Drop (52 page)

The mechanical brrrr-brrrr-brrrr-brrrr-brrrr of the
Maelstrom’s
guns rattled in the bridge, and the control console flashed, indicating the barrage had hit the target. Saraunt’s lips twitched in a wry smile that was suddenly chased away by wide, startled eyes. The
Ghost
, apparently unharmed by the attack, pulled into a loop and was arching back at them with astonishing speed. Before he could react, the enemy ship had vanished above them. The disappearance snapped his mind into focus and he tried to counter the move before it was too late. “Hard to starboard—all guns, fire!” But he was too slow. The
Ghost
peppered the rear of the ship with gunfire and flashed in front of the gun turrets like a phantom shadow, and the
Maelstrom’s
orchestra of bullets sailed over top of her, gliding into the unkown.

“DIVE!” Saraunt commanded. It was such a close call, for a moment, Saraunt thought his order had spilled from his mouth as a last reflex—inertia of the mind and body following their final electrical impulses—before they all died. He was thrilled to hear his order repeated and feel the ship respond.

“Dive, aye!”

The
Maelstrom
dropped with its bow pointed downward like a breaching fish longing for the water to cover its odd, soaring hulk again. Saraunt could see the blue burn of the enemy’s engines in front of them, and he twisted the ship left and then rolled it back to the right as tracer rounds from the
Ghost’s
top guns searched for purchase in their hull. The gunner was good and Saraunt had a hard time steadying the ship long enough to get off a clear shot. “Dammit!” he shouted as he broke off pursuit. Rilek was beyond the bow of the
Ghost
and directly below them, and he couldn’t risk a shot missing the target and hitting the admiral. The
Lodestar
would have to fend off this attack on its own.

***

Booktu ignored the forward machine guns and tracked the
Ghost
with the deck cannons from the moment it broke off course. He wasn’t interested in rattling off thousands of rounds at the nimble craft in hopes that a bullet might strike something flammable or breach the hull. The cannons would do maximum damage, and he was lethal behind the firing controls.

“Fire at will!” Rilek bellowed as the
Ghost
stormed down at them with her guns afire. The top of the deck ripped open in a streak of meandering holes that punched up and over the armored hood covering the plenum of the cannons and nearly split it in two.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The big barrels were unharmed and responded eagerly as Booktu mashed down his thick forefingers on the dual triggers, gnashing his teeth and growling fiercely as he twisted the forked yoke to arc the barrels in time with the passing target. It took a trained eye to see it—an eye that had scoured air and space thousands of times in search of the smallest trace of a hit—and Booktu smiled as pieces of the
Ghost’s
hull glinted in the starlight, twirling like phantom charms in a non-existent wind.

An instant later, the glowing readout next to the helm informed Rilek of the damage.

Booktu swept his hand across the panel in front him as the
Ghost
appeared dead ahead, followed closely by the
Maelstrom
. Switches clicked and lights flickered as four large rectangular doors on either side of the bow slid open and locked into place with a reverberating kathoong. The forward cannons were primed and ready to fire, but the
Ghost
was already out of range and the gap was widening with each passing second as the Zebulon craft outpaced both its pursuers.

“He’s running?” Otto said.

“Snort!” Malo expressed his distaste for the Mewlatai’s cowardice.

“Mr. Booktu’s either damaged his ship or he’s leading us somewhere to even the field,” Rilek said, as if he and The Ghost had been flying together for years and regularly consulted each other on tactics and strategy.

“Where could he possibly be going?” asked Otto. There were literally millions of possibilities, and Otto mistook the admiral’s silence as contemplation; but Rilek already knew what was coming and he waited for the navigator to answer the major’s question.

“Admiral,” Ensign Nori said, “he’s headed for
The Cloud of Lost Kings.
”

“
The Cloud of Lost Kings…
I’ve heard terrible things about that place.” Otto wasn’t a sailor or a pilot, he was a grunt, and he preferred to fight his battles on foot or in the drink. Flying through haunted patches of stardust was not on the top of his list of fun things to do, and it made him more than a little nervous. “Have you ever sailed through stardust, Admiral?”

“We’ll lose visibility and our navigational instruments,” Rilek said with little concern. “Mr. Booktu, once we’re inside, use our current course as your reference, one hundred kilometer diameter off the point of our bow, five shells per quadrant.”

“Aye, aye, Admiral!”

“Captain Saraunt, fall back and take cover position.”

“Admiral, I think I can catch him if I just”

“Captain,” Rilek said firmly, “your instruments will go dead as soon as you enter the cloud, as will mine. We need to enter together and maintain our speed and heading or risk shooting each other down. You’ll get your chance on the other side, Captain. Fall back!”

“Aye, Admiral.”

“How do you know he won’t loop back once we’re all inside the cloud?” Otto said.

“Because that’s what he’ll expect me to think, Major.”

“Why not leave Captain Saraunt on this side just in case?”

“That’s a sound strategy, Major,” Rilek said, looking over his shoulder and fixing one gold-ringed eye on Otto, “but I don’t think Saraunt is up to the challenge of taking on a pilot like The Ghost without help.” Otto squirmed a little in his chair. Rilek seemed like a patient man, but Otto could tell his foray into fleet battle tactics ruffled the admiral’s feathers a bit, and his face flushed with embarrassment. Questions were speeding through his mind as fast and as dangerous as gunfire, but he dared not voice his concerns. He sat quietly and tried to switch off his brain, but the most troubling questions kept breaking through his weak attempts to subdue them.
“How will we know if we destroy him inside the cloud? What if we end up on the other side and he’s not there?”

“The chances of destroying him,” Rilek said, as if Otto’s questions were floating in glowing letters next to the helm, “are slim. I have a feeling that Mr. Booktu has damaged his ship, and his destination lies beyond the cloud. I think he’s headed for atmosphere.”

“Atmosphere?” Otto said as he considered what that meant exactly, and then he had it. “That means that…” He trailed off as a surge of hope coursed through him. All of a sudden, Otto felt emboldened. He wanted nothing more than to end this perilous mission by charging in and catching The Ghost before he entered the cloud.

“The cooling system for his guns is damaged,” Rilek continued. “He needs air molecules to carry the heat of his barrels away or they’ll melt. He’s defenseless, and the closest planet with an atmosphere is on the other side of the cloud.”

“Clara 591,” Ensign Nori confirmed.

“So you see, Major, he’s not going to turn around or deviate course, nor is he a coward, Lieutenant Schunkari. He needs the atmosphere on Clara 591 to stand and fight.”

“How do you know all this?” Otto said.

“Crystallized fluid floating with the debris after Booktu’s cannon fire struck the ship. It couldn’t be from the engines, since they’re obviously still working, and given the proximity of the shells’ impact, the next logical conclusion is coolant for the guns. Besides, Major, The Ghost turned and attacked two ships in open space—a move that would suggest he felt more than confident he could win the battle in spite of the odds—but then ran immediately after he was struck by cannon fire. My instincts tell me his guns need atmosphere to continue the fight.”

“Crystallized cooling fluid?! We could’ve hit the toilet for all you know, and it was crystallized pisswater!”
Otto screamed inside his head, but then he slowed down and considered Rilek’s take on the situation—and his reputation. The admiral’s logic was sound, he decided, but Otto couldn’t have argued even if it wasn’t—Rilek accentuated the finality of his word by turning back toward the bow and gripping the throttle. It was already pushed to all ahead full, but he pressed it against its stop as if his desire would will the engines to pull harder. As they dashed toward the burning cloud, Otto thought that the four thundering cones flanking the bow answered their master’s call and glowed just a little brighter with the effort.

“Captain,” Rilek said as the
Maelstrom
pulled alongside, “hold your course and cease firing until we’re out of the cloud. We’re about to lose all communications.”

“Aye, Admiral.”

“Rilek out.”

The com crackled and hummed as the strange gas closed around them. Once inside, the plum vapor smothered the clear panels of the conning tower, and the only proof they were still moving forward was the constant grumble of the engines. Rilek was as solid and silent as a stone at the helm as Booktu moved the yoke in front of him and squeezed the triggers on the forked handles in a steady rhythm. Nori was busy scribbling in the air, his calculations floating magically among the glowing stars hovering in front of him. Malo sat entranced, and with The Guardian stowed in the armory on the admiral’s orders, he held his battle hammer across his lap and flexed his big fists around its worn handle over and over again.

Otto, as he had often done since boarding the
Lodestar
, was considering the admiral again. He wondered what Rilek was exactly and where his people came from. He held up his hand and studied it as he flexed his webbed digits. Otto had been given the tools to be an incredible swimmer, and he smiled inwardly at the thought of water rushing past his sleek figure before looking again at the back of the mysterious figure standing at the helm. The man was covered in feathers, but he doubted the admiral’s arms, shaped much like everyone else’s aboard, could launch him into flight. Although Otto wasn’t an expert on biology or physiology like Blink, he thought Rilek’s body seemed unsuited for any environment.
“Maybe his kind once flew the skies but started walking too much and lost their wings. What a horrible tradeoff,”
he thought. Rilek was the most peculiar and captivating person he had ever met in his travels, and his insatiable curiosity wanted answers he knew he wouldn’t get—and the thought gnawed at him.

The muzzle flare from the deck guns lit the gas in front of them, and Otto counted the flashes as the monotone drum of the engines and the cool blue glow of the instruments lulled him into a dream-state.
“One. Two. Three. Four. Five,”
he ticked the bursts off in his head. There was a momentary pause as Booktu aligned the guns in the next quadrant, and then Otto’s tally began again.
“One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Pause, reposition the gun. One. Two. Three. Four-five-six-seven-eight-nine?!”

Otto sat upright in his chair, every ounce of relaxation brought on by the soothing rhythm of the flight replaced by knotted muscle and terror. He looked at Booktu, who had glanced briefly over his shoulder at the helm and then returned to his duties when Rilek didn’t respond. “What the hell was that?” Otto said, turning his head from Booktu to Rilek and back again.

“Some sort of electrical discharge from the stardust or…” Rilek said.

“Or
what
?” Otto said.

“Or,” Rilek said as he glanced over his left shoulder at Booktu, “I’m wrong about The Ghost’s guns and he’s firing cannon shells in his wake.”

“I thought you said we’d damaged his guns,” Otto questioned.

“I said my
instincts tell me
his guns are damaged. There aren’t any guarantees, Major, but don’t worry, I value my ship and the lives of everyone aboard too much to take unnecessary risks. I’m almost certain the extra flashes are from the cloud itself.”

Otto let out a deep breath as he turned to Malo. The Moxen was strangely silent, sitting erect like a carved statue and staring straight ahead. Only his hands were moving as they continued to grip and release the handle of his hammer.
“What’s the matter with you?”
Otto thought.
“You’re acting like you’ve never been in battle before—of course there are no guarantees. Soldier up!”
Otto had just reined in his fear when Booktu glanced over his shoulder as he repositioned the guns.

“Or King Draoncul and his phantom armada are shooting at us,” Booktu said with stone-cold sincerity, then turned back to his task with a roguish grin that curled around the jagged tusk on one side of his mouth.

Otto had heard the stories of King Draoncul, and his eyes filled with fear to the point of exploding as he looked from Booktu to Rilek in search of confirmation by personal experience, but none came. Instead, the crew of the
Lodestar
let the greenhorn major stew in his own wild imagination for several agonizing seconds before Booktu, no longer able to contain his amusement, broke the fabricated morbidness with a gut-wrenching laugh.

Booktu’s obnoxious crowing was irresistible. “Damn sailors!” Otto said, shaking his head in embarrassment and then chuckling coyly at himself. Nori joined the fun as well, and he was clutching his sides in silent, comedic spasms. Otto thought that he even saw Rilek’s shoulders shake slightly out of the corner of his eye, but the movement was gone when he looked up, so he wasn’t exactly sure. But if he had been able to see Rilek’s face, the amused smirk resting under the admiral’s hooked nose would have confirmed Otto’s suspicion—the man did have a lighthearted side after all.