The Awakening (The Hyperscape Project Book 1) (25 page)

“It freking figures.
I wish we had even half of the dran data from the Arisian archives.” If they
weren’t so far into Demented Space, she might be able to contact someone in the
Resistance for more information on Arisian prophecies, but that was not an
option to her at the moment.

Disappointed,
she leaned the chair back as far as it would go and closed her eyes. She could
see why Argos liked the chair so much. It felt like floating on a cloud. Soft
and comfortable, and yet supportive. It was by far the best chair on the ship.
She hadn’t felt anything this comfortable since she’d been whisked away from
the Palace in the middle of the night for her protection. That had been so long
ago, and so much had happened since she’d barely escaped the Mok’tu invasion.

The stress of
the long day was taking its toll on her. Exhaustion was beginning to set in. As
she reclined there, she pondered the name of the old forgotten prophecy. Her
mind drifted to her childhood in the Royal Palace. So many of the things she’d
been taught as a child had seemed silly, boring, and useless at the time. But
now it was all beginning to make sense. Government structure, politics, the
heritage of the Arisian people. They’d been training her, even at that young
age. Grooming her for her future role as Queen. Combat training. Now that was
something she hadn’t minded at all. She would have spent all day in the combat
sim room if they would’ve let her. She smiled at the thought of those carefree
days of childhood.

Argos’ chair was
beginning to soothe her tired body, perhaps too much.  She yawned and
scooted her body down further into the soft lounge chair. She was exhausted. So
exhausted. Bits and pieces of her childhood floated through her mind,
disjointed and unstructured as her body succumbed and she drifted into sleep.

The crew was
unusually quiet. With the recent loss of Argos, the Meth crewmember Sprot, and
now Nick, no one felt much like chatting. It would be a while before things on
the Ashok would return to normal.

Karg left the
somber mess hall without eating a bite. He had no desire for food or
conversation.  He just wanted to go to his room to be alone.

Once in his
quarters, Karg sat down at the table dominating the center of his room and
dropped his head into one set of hands.  He closed his eyes for a moment
then opened them again, sighing heavily as he stared down at the table
top.  He suddenly realized that something was out of place.  He
lifted his head out of his hands and gazed at the coin lying just inches from
his elbows.  He recognized the coin immediately.  It belonged to
Nick.

‘
It’s a
Quarter. This is an old one, back from when they still had some silver in them
,’
he  remembered Nick saying.

Nick’s good luck
charm. Since coming aboard the Ashok, the coin had never left his pocket. 
The human had taken it everywhere with him.  Until now.

His chest felt
heavy as he stared at the coin. If Nick had left his good luck coin behind,
then he had expected to die out there.

Slowly, almost
afraid of its contents, he picked up the note that was pinned underneath the
coin. ‘
Karg, after today, I figure you might need this more than me. You’ve
been a true friend to me, and you’ve saved my ass more times than I care to
admit. Funny, how I was able to make friends easier out here than on my own
planet. Anyway, my Chess set is in my quarters. It’s yours if you want it. Go
easy on Slimy though, you know how he hates to lose. I’m not sure what your
race’s beliefs are about dying, but on my world, many humans believe our spirit
lives on when we die. That we go to a better place. An afterlife. If that is
true, perhaps we’ll meet again on the other side. You watch your back, and take
care of Arya. Now go kick some metal Mok’tu butt for me!  I’ll be
watching, from somewhere out there.’

Karg let out a
long, deep groan as a single fat tear rolled down his nose and dropped onto the
paper he held.
Paper
.  Something so foreign to him but so precious
to Nick.  Afraid of losing this last connection to his friend, he
carefully blotted the wet spot his tear had formed on a corner of the paper and
carefully set the note further away in a zone that was safe from his tears.

He felt the loss
of his comrade more than ever now. That dran human. Why he missed that pale,
soft skinned alien so much was a complete mystery to him. Nick had been a pain
in the butt sometimes and was as backward as they came, but he was good in a
battle, and he had proven to be a valuable crewmember. He’d saved their butts
on more than one occasion.

“And a good
friend,” Karg moaned.

He would never
forget his strange alien friend. 

He reached out
and picked up Nick’s coin, trying to rub it between the thick pads of his big
fingers the way Nick used to.  The coin dropped back to the table, another
one of Karg’s tears quickly following it.

Three Days Later….

Karg woke to the
sound of explosions rocking the ship. “Karg! Get to Bay One, we’re about to
have company!” Arya’s voice demanded over his com-badge.

Karg fell out of
bed onto his knees. The rumble of multiple blasts to the hull rang through his
room. “What…what’s going on? Arya?”

“Karg! Get your
arsk to Bay One! Now!” The sounds of explosions on the bridge almost drowned
out Arya’s voice. “Raiders!”

“Frek!” Karg
grumbled. He flew out of the door into the corridor, driving a passing Meth
into the wall as they collided. The Meth crewmember stumbled to his feet in his
cumbersome environmental suit and continued on his way. Karg was too distracted
to apologize. He hopped down the hallway attempting to get a foot into his boot
and still shaking off his grogginess. He finally got his feet stuffed into his
boots before rounding the corner into Bay One. The fury of plasma blasts
hitting the hull reverberated through the hangar like a giant drum. “I’m in Bay
One. What the hetek is going on out there?”

Karg waited for
what seemed like forever for an answer. The silence on the com had him worried.
Finally, Arya replied. “Raiders. Everywhere. Too small and fast. Can’t get a
clear shot. Can’t outrun them.”

Suddenly Karg’s
com-badge screeched and whined. Then a strange voice broke in. “Captain of the
Ashok, surrender and I may let your crew live.”

Karg waited
tensely through the long pause. Arya didn’t appear to be responding to the
raider’s demands.

“Let me talk to
Arnon,” the voice demanded.

On the bridge,
Arya sat tall and straight in the Captain’s chair, glaring at the main view
screen. An unkempt, scarred face stared back at her. Typical raider scum, in
need of a good bath and some manners. At least over the vid-link she was spared
from his stench.

All her training
and time spent watching Argos command the ship had prepared her for this
moment. “Raider baskurt. This is Captain Arya of the Ashok. I have been lenient
with you so far, but do not try my patience. Perhaps you have heard about how
we recently destroyed a Mok’tu Star-Killer. Leave now or suffer the same fate.”

The commander of
the raiders smirked. “Yeah I’ve heard of you alright. And I’ve heard about that
weapon of yours. A weapon of that power would be worth a lot of credits. Way I
hear it, that weapon could probably rip apart a whole planet. The fact that a
craft that small can unleash that kind of power has me shakin’ in my boots.”
The commander gave a sarcastic laugh. “The thing is…that weapon may be scary
powerful when it’s launched, but right now it’s sitting safely aboard your
ship. Now surrender before I take your ship apart, piece by piece!”

Arya’s mind
raced. They knew about the module, but they thought it was still aboard the
Ashok. How could she use that to her advantage? And Arnon? How did they know
Arnon?

“I’ve called
your bluff, missy,” the commander chided.  “Time to pay up.”

“Commander
Scumbag,” she began, taunting him with insults. “I do not negotiate with
raiders and especially not with the likes of you. You have ballusks, I’ll give
you that. I can’t believe you would threaten the ship carrying the biggest,
baddest weapon around.  What the hetek were you thinking?  You’re
such a
patuke
. I have nothing more to say to you. You’re not even worth
the effort of killing. Get out of my way, and I will let you live. And before
you go making another brilliant decision in your colorful, yet undoubtedly
short
career, I ask you, how sure
are
you that this weapon can’t be fired from
within the walls of this vessel? Are you willing to bet your life on it?”

The commander’s
reply was long in coming. The smaller raider vessels zipped around the Ashok
like betiks on a syrup tree, continuing to fly hit and run maneuvers. The
constant plasma blasts were beginning to weaken the Ashok’s defenses.

Finally the
commander’s voice broke the silence. “I understand. You have principles. You
don’t negotiate with raiders. That’s one of your principles. But, you see, I
don’t have any of them principles. Life’s much simpler that way. Know what I’m
say’n’?” The commander grinned, one gold tooth shining amidst his decaying,
food encrusted teeth. “It’s a shame that a pretty thing like you is going to
have to die, but now
you’re
trying
my
patience!”

Sirok sent a
message to Arya’s console with his wireless neural interface. The raiders had
made it through the Ashok’s collapsing shields and had blown off the outer door
to Bay One. With the shields failing and the hull breached, there was nothing
to stop them from entering the ship.

Arya severed
communications with the raiders, and the view screen went blank. The time for
posturing was over. The raiders in this sector were notoriously dangerous and
most likely one of the main reasons so few ever returned from Demented Space.
“Sirok, you have the con. Patch everything through to my PDU.” Arya held up her
personal data unit, a handy, do about anything, reconfigurable on the fly,
mobile gadget that she seldom left behind. “Tell Karg I’m headed down there,
and get everyone you can to Bay One. We need to stop them from getting into the
rest of the ship!”

“Aye, Captain.”
Sirok busily typed on his console. His holo-display showed a diagram of the
ship alongside a roster of the crew and their current locations.

Arya turned as
she entered the transport tube. “Lock down the bridge.” The tube doors slid
shut with a whoosh, and the tube sped down to the bay level.

Sirok
broadcasted a message to all hands, ordering them to defend the hangar bay. The
bridge grew quiet. The bombardment had ceased. The raiders were now focused on
taking the ship. Sirok put a priority-one lockdown in place, sealing off the
bridge. Arya would be able to command the ship through her encrypted mobile
data unit, but if all else failed, Sirok would have to take over command from
the bridge. The protective mucus covering Sirok’s body oozed faster. It was a
natural bodily function for a Kymean under stress, a vestige of his ancestry
that allowed them to move quickly and replace the antibacterial covering at a
more rapid rate. His nerves were beginning to get the best of him, and he could
feel it in the thinning mucus running down his face. He knew that even with the
bridge locked out the raiders could disable the engines and other systems if
they infiltrated the ship.

Arya slid to a
stop next to Karg in Bay One. The force field in the bay was holding, but
through the translucent wall of static, the ominous presence of the raiders was
apparent. A boarding party was nearing the field, spreading into several
groups.

A handful of
crewmembers ran into the bay behind Arya. Two Meths, a couple of Arisian
ensigns, and Kyrk. Arya frowned. “That’s it?  That’s all of you?” 

“Hull breach in
the aft section,” Kyrk responded “Five of the crew were there when it happened.
Three didn’t make it. The other two are trapped.” 

Arya was all
business. “Sket. It will have to do. Take cover. We draw the line here! Do you
understand?”

“Yes, Sir!” the
crew replied in true military fashion.

In front of
them, the glove of an armored space suit pierced through the force field.

“Karg! They’re
coming through! They must be using a field modulator.”

Another hand
came through the force field, a pistol aimed and at the ready. 
 Plasma blasts ricocheted off the metal crate in front of them as they
ducked. “Open fire!” Arya commanded, as she popped up and fired several rounds
at the raiders.

A barrage of
plasma bolts streaked back and forth across the bay. Puffs of smoke rose from
the impacting balls of plasma, creating an early morning fog-like haze
throughout the bay.

A raider rushed
at the barricade of crates and pushed off the edge of a box with one foot in an
attempt to leap over the barrier. Karg caught the soldier square in the chest
with a rapid burst of plasma. He was dead before he hit the ground. His
lifeless body smoldered on the floor next to Arya, forcing her to turn away
from the sickening smell of burnt flesh that rose from the exit wounds in his
back.

There were too
many of them and with the protection of the field, they had the upper hand.
Waves of soldiers rushed through the force field. The ones that survived the
onslaught of plasma fire took up positions around the bay. A Meth stumbled
forward, his suit damaged by enemy fire. Methane gas hissed from a rupture in
his suit. He was suffocating in the nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere of the bay. Arya
noticed him trudging forward, determined to make it to the front line. Before
she could tell him to get clear, the Meth threw himself in front of the
barricade. Enemy fire triangulated on his position and a fireball erupted from
the flammable gasses in his ruptured methane supply tanks. The blast jarred the
heavy crates, driving some of the containers backward. The force field flexed
from the shockwave and then sprang back to its normal shape.