Rift Breaker (27 page)

He made out his destination. The shape of the hypersat was two triangular pyramids joined at the base. About a third of the length from the join in both directions, arms extended from the edges. Attached to each were flat triangles, laced with powerful hyperspace transmitters.

The pilots cut the thrusters and the nose drifted over the airlock, a triangular snout on one of the flat sides. His team had already scrambled the security locks and set the door to automatic detection for construction vehicles.

Once the vessel was in line with the opening, the pilots activated the sub-thrusters and forwarded in. The entrance was relatively small for the dropship. The Weinians hadn't thought of everything after all, not that his pilots would have any difficulties.

The dim lighting guided them through the tunnel. Hissing sounds of pressurisation expelled from the walls. The tunnel dropped suddenly into a large chamber with several landing platforms, many occupied by payloads of construction gear and building materials.

Leroy went to the medical bay and casually disabled the life support for Raegar's wounded soldier. He then retrieved the stretcher that contained the fugitive Milton Lance and pushed it into the drop hold as the rear hatch opened. The remaining three members of his task force waited outside.

‘The station is secure sir,' the sergeant informed.

Leroy stepped out onto the landing platform. Reelai and two of the other Xoeloid met him there.

‘Greetings,' Leroy smiled. The pilots pushed the stretcher down the ramp behind him and he presented Milton's body. ‘There he is, signed and delivered. All we had to do was go down and scoop him up.' He pressed the control to open the containment shield. ‘Is everything ready?' he asked, darting his focus between the creatures.

‘Yes,' said Reelai, inspecting the kid. Apparently he was the only one of them who could talk.

‘Good stuff,' replied Leroy. ‘Why do you need him, anyway?'

Reelai checked the kid's life signs, wrapping two digits round his wrist. ‘This particular Human has certain genetic abnormalities. He possesses a gift we once had. We simply need him to share it with us.'

Leroy nodded, pretending to understand. But his real concern was for the rest of the plan.

‘And are you sure this is going to work?'

‘Do not doubt me, Leroy.'

‘Okay, okay,' he said quickly. ‘So in the aftermath you will keep your word, right?'

‘When the invasion is complete, you shall possess rift gate technology.'

Reelai had said it before, but this time it sounded extra sweet. Leroy fantasised of what a skilled fleet commander could do
with such power. He would make his own rules. His piracy could easily surpass that of the Tyde. All would respect him, for there would be few limits to the influence and wealth he would amass.

The Long Shots took the fugitive to the control room, where Reelai's colleagues had made the necessary adjustments.

Twenty-three

Cenyulone, the headquarters of the Tranquillian Composite, had woken to an ordinary day. Troops were trained, meals were cooked, equipment was serviced, and briefings were issued, then
this
happened. Jhaia sat on her observational deck above the central auditorium of the Ministry of Defence. Officers hurried to their designated places below. She looked over her personal screens at the chaos that had taken place mere moments ago.

On her screen, she cycled through the recorded data on the incident, shifting points of view to gain a better understanding of this new enemy. She set the time code back and summoned a view of the platforms as she knew them.

High above the military city and the atmosphere, heavy defence platforms had dotted the world's orbit. The array served as a blockade and had been proven effective in times past. The Tranquillian Composite had no shortage of enemies and every precaution had been taken. The platforms had been lined with a high calibre defence arsenal. Missile turrets, lasers, rail guns
and pulse cannons pointed directly into the void. On top of that, the planetary radar coverage had an impressive range. The combination of weapons and radar meant that no suspicious craft could get near the world without being targeted with the appropriate weapon. The system was more than enough to bring comfort to the families of the Composite. Protection from sworn enemies, or even the natural annoyance of asteroids, was assured. Planetary radar had been constantly monitored. But despite its impressive range, on this particular day, warning was lacking.

Behind the line of heavy cannons, not to mention the many orbital defence ships docked to the platform, the empty space had a distortion. The faults were hard to see, until the light specks appeared in anticlockwise swirls.

The occurrences were spaced perfectly in a wall behind the platforms; too ordered for nature, too surreal for technology. Each swirl shrunk to a point and black bubbles grew against the planet's healthy glow.

Inside these puddles hung objects. Although visibility was low, the lights across the bodies hinted at their jagged and colossal forms. Front spikes pierced out from the blotches, evidence that this was no picture or hologram. The phenomenon was as real as the orbital defence. The warships entered efficiently and silently.

The first casualty was a fast moving transport. Its direct and narrow path couldn't be altered in time and it went up in a puff of green flame against one of the foreign vessels. The fleet took
position, flanking one another across the sky, facing the blockade. The bulky cannons of the defence could not turn fast enough. Before they could get thirty degrees, the warships unleashed a simultaneous bombardment.

Explosions on explosions flared up across the sky. Momentarily, the platform lit up like a shining halo, divinely marking the world for its good works, before breaking into scattered pieces of cooling slag.

The orbital defence ships that happened to be free from the platforms, or those fortunate enough to survive by swiftly detaching, chose their targets.

Each invading vessel released smaller fighters in aggressive engagement. In a short time, the sky of Cenyulone had transformed from a mundane operational procedure to a proving ground for heroes.

Fleet Commander Raegar had called the meeting before the attack, which meant he knew something about the enemy. Jhaia scanned the crowd below and grew concerned at his absence.

The padded seats of the circular auditorium sank at a steep incline. From her elevated seat, opposite the door, Jhaia could see everyone. Every now and then a sweating officer would enter and quickly shuffle to a designated place. About a quarter of the attendees were holographic. The avatars fluctuated in spectrum. The real officers sat on transmission decks aboard their ships, which were already regrouping in orbit.

A deep tone reverberated and everyone silenced. A vertical
wavelength appeared at the centre of the room. The line oscillated as a stressed voice began its brief.

‘Orbital defence is gone,' it announced. ‘The overseers have come to a decision. All available vessels will rally and launch a counteroffensive.'

The line was then replaced by a hologram of half the planet. The view expanded and focused on a particular section of the planet's rim. The red spots indicated enemy ships; several hovered in sight, separated by vast distances across the globe.

‘This image is in real time,' the voice briefed, ‘and is all that remains of planetary radar coverage. Composite forces have been taking excessive damage across orbit. As you can see, the invading forces are scattered and are systematically hunting down our remaining vessels. You will all be divided into two parties for a search and destroy mission. The enemy warships must be destroyed before they have a chance to regroup.'

‘No!' A thundering voice echoed from the back of the room.

‘Who said that?' the voice demanded.

Jhaia glanced up, her feathers twitching. A heavy, winged object flipped and tumbled down the aisle stairs. It dropped to the base of the room and slid across the floor. Strands of grey smoke wafted from its beaten form. A Composite thrust pack, normally used by drop squads. The crowd looked up to the place from where it was thrown. A one of a kind, Kharla began to limp down the steps.

‘Your excellence,' Raegar yelled, breathing heavily, gripping
a seat to assist him down another level, ‘the mission is too dangerous. We cannot afford to hunt for them in orbit.'

‘I'm warning you, Raegar. You had better fall in line,' said the overseer.

Raegar waved his upper right hand in the air. ‘They look vulnerable, but they can regroup instantly.'

‘Commander Raegar. Take your place and submit.' The overseer was yelling now.

‘How do you think they arrived in the first place? Look!' Raegar yelled, pointing to the readout. He stepped down another level and Jhaia noticed blood.

‘Get some medicals in here!' she yelled. Five of the officers' assistants rushed out through the side entrance of the room talking into communicators. A few concerned whispers floated among the seated officials.

Jhaia stretched her wings and leapt off her post, gliding to the other side of the room. She landed and raced up the stairs, catching Raegar before he could make another step on his own. He wrapped his right arms around her. Whispers and gossip erupted from the surrounding crowd. The pair made their way down the stairs to his empty seat at the base of the room where she carefully lowered him. Blood and plasma dripped from a burnt hole in his abdominals.

Some officers left their seats to see if they could help. But Raegar's eyes turned upward at the radar readout where a heavy cluster of enemy vessels seemed to grow larger from nothing. A
step behind him, the rest of the officers eventually noticed the occurrence.

‘How is this happening?' said the overseer.

‘Warpholes!' Raegar boomed. The medicals arrived and knelt to look at his wound. He ignored them and stood. ‘Warpholes!' he repeated, pacing the floor.

‘We cannot separate our remaining forces to survive; the enemy has limitless tactical advantages. The only way to defend our city is to place the invaders in a choke point.'

‘In space?' said a young sceptical voice.

‘I'm talking about the Nimbus. We will use the remaining orbital vessels as a distraction; keep the invading force occupied long enough to evacuate the city, arm the Nimbus with long and short range batteries and rally all remaining forces. With limitations of gravity for them, and ground support for us, we stand a chance of survival.'

Jhaia turned her gaze upward. The hologram had disappeared and the overseer's wavelength remained still. Among the crowd, the officers nodded amongst themselves, particularly the older ones. Rumours of Raegar's legend circulated.

‘Commander Raegar's plan is to be in effect,' announced the overseer. The crowd made noise. The officers unleashed their comments, delayed since Raegar's arrival. The overseer raised his voice to speak over them and went over the new logistics.

Raegar sat down. The medicals, finally able to work, wiped the blood from his midsection as he listened to the brief. He shot
a wink at Jhaia who simply shook her head in awe. He winced at the pain. She came to his side and took one of his hands. Through his coughs and dry heaving he muttered one word, ‘Leroy.'

Milton was awake. At least he thought he was. He had witnessed a space battle. Perhaps battle was not the appropriate word. More like a slaughter. Rift gates opened to reveal a formation of exposed Composite defences. Vessels and platforms bloomed with multicoloured explosions. He knew this was a horrible thing but he could feel his heart brim with the sense of satisfaction of outsmarting and destroying an enemy. He felt the hunger for more destruction and an anxiousness to get to Cenyulone's main city and level the place.

He wore armour and tightened his grip on ancient weapons. He stood on a bridge, overlooking the planet, ordering fighters into formation. He was a pilot, and ran his fingers over his winged killer's crystalline control surfaces.

Milton Lance was the Xoeloid. How this came to pass he could not figure. He had access to every Xoeloid within range, which included points of view from the opposite side of the planet. Milton focused; if he was in such a position then he knew he could get his answers. He began searching minds for more information. He tried one, a Xoeloid trooper affixing a chest plate that grew over its torso and locked to the rest of its armour. He was aggressively blocked and shunned upon inquiry. A few more
attempts with different minds and the same thing happened. Then he sensed another. The calm and calculated thought process beckoned him.

‘Can you hear me, Milton Lance?'

‘Yeah,' he replied, not quite sure as to how. ‘Who are you?'

‘This is Reelai. Are you feeling well?'

‘What the hell is this? What am I, dead?'

‘No. You are perfectly fine. You experience symbiosis, my friend. You are sharing your gift with us and I am much appreciative.'