The Planet Thieves (16 page)

Tom was the last to turn in his chair. He smirked. “We are fully armed, Captain, and ready.”

Mason looked at the captain's chair. It was large, meant for a full-grown man or woman. The armrests had two panels with various controls on them. They could flip open and produce twin control sticks, if the captain ever wanted to pilot the vessel himself.

The whole crew was watching as he stepped onto the platform and sat down in the chair. The cushion hugged him comfortably, and he fit better than expected. Merrin gave him a small smile and spun back to the pilot console. Tom nodded and did the same.

“Cross gate,” Mason said.

A bulky second year to Mason's left turned in his chair. “Ready, sir.”

“Release a gate,” Mason said. “Open a course to Earth.”

 

Chapter Twenty-one

The second year turned back to his console and punched in a series of commands. Two seconds later, the bridge glowed with a soft green light, briefly, then faded back to white.

“Gate away, sir,” the second year said.

From the front of the engineering side, starboard, Mason could see a ring of silvery metal drift out in front of the Egypt. Slowly, it began to expand as the curved metal tubes within the hoop telescoped. What started as a small hoop no bigger than a shuttle grew until it was large enough to swallow the whole front right wing. It drifted farther, expanding, until it was a big silvery circle in space, big enough for the Egypt to pass through.

“Charge the gate,” Mason said. His hands were sweaty, mouth dry. If the cadet had done the math correctly, the gate would fold the fabric of space just outside of Earth, and they'd have a perfect view of their home planet. The bridge was very quiet, very still, as if all the cadets were holding their breath. Mason certainly was.

It would only take a few seconds to charge the gate … and then what? What was he supposed to do? It would depend on what they saw on the other side of the gate, but even then Mason had no idea. If the way was clear, and the Egypt went through, he still didn't know who he was supposed to report to. He imagined sending out a fleet-wide broadcast—something reserved only for the highest ranks, and only in the direst of emergencies—and wanted to throw up.
Stop,
he told himself. This
was
an emergency, a dire one. He wouldn't get in trouble. The fact that they'd retaken the ship should overshadow everything else.

Mason hoped the Olympus would somehow be waiting right there, so he could just open a channel and relay what he knew and then get his crew to safety. He wished it so hard he was almost dizzy with the fantasy, and he realized instantly it was just that—a dream.
Let me get us back to the Academy, that's all
. He had never looked forward to studying more than he did at that moment.

“Charged,” the second year said.

Outside the Egypt
,
the cross gate was spinning lazily, clockwise.

The space inside the ring began to ripple, the white dots of stars swimming drunkenly, and then in an instant they were all gone, replaced by a perfect, steady view of Earth. The cloudy blue planet hung in space, appearing the size of a large orange held at arm's length.

“What is that…?” one cadet breathed.

“Zeus!” cursed another.

The space around Earth was not empty.

It was filled with too many Tremist ships to count.

But that wasn't what made Mason's head swim dangerously, what made him unable to get out of the chair. It was the gigantic cross gate unfolding in space, right before their eyes. While the stolen gate was still mostly a cube, the process was definitely underway.

Mason wasn't going to get his crew back to the Academy. He wasn't going to open a simple com channel and then go back to being a student. The sweet dream he'd had only moments ago turned sour, and he wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all.

Because things were worse than what he had dared to imagine.

The Tremist were going to steal Earth.

 

Chapter Twenty-two

The cadets seemed to realize it as he did. The bridge erupted in exchanges of information as the cadets checked and double-checked their systems, preparing for engagement. Mason barely heard them. His ears were ringing for some reason, and he felt a little faint, his eyes a little swimmy.

The Egypt hadn't yet gone through the gate; it wasn't too late to stay on this side, near Nori-Blue. He imagined a quick end—the cloud of Tremist ships zipping across space to focus fire on the Egypt. If the Tremist scanners were half as good as the ESC's (and why wouldn't they be?), the Tremist would be aware of the Egypt almost immediately.

Mason could press a few buttons, and the Egypt's gate would power down, stop its spin, and begin the contraction process. They could still run away.

But they could still try to save the world.

With icy clarity, he saw now what the worst part of command was. The glory came by chance, after you made the hard calls. After you made choices about people's
lives
in an instant.

He had to make a choice, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

“How many ships?” Mason whispered to Elizabeth.

“Ninety-seven,” Elizabeth replied without emotion. He felt a sudden, hard spike of jealousy then. Elizabeth didn't feel a thing. Ninety-seven ships was just information to her, not a sign of certain doom. Or if she understood what it meant, she probably wasn't able to care about it.

“The king's Hawk is among them,” Elizabeth added, which let loose a cloud of butterflies through Mason's stomach.

Tom spoke over the cacophony. “How many ESC in the area, Elizabeth? How many friendly ships?”

Merrin waited patiently at the pilot console, hands on the controls, ready to move forward or back at Mason's command. She didn't ask for an order, just waited. Mason almost hoped she'd decide for him.

“Stand by,” Elizabeth said.

The gate, once an enormous cube, resembled a spider waking up from a nap. The bridge magnified the view of it, and Mason could see thin spears branching off, extending, and reconnecting with other pieces. It was like a cloud of metal, growing larger in all directions, blue slivers of Earth suddenly becoming visible through the latticework.

“Three ESC ships in the area,” Elizabeth said. “None are engaging. One is a pleasure barge, and two are ESC personnel-carrier shuttles. All three are on trajectories to take them out of the system. We are effectively alone.”

The bridge hushed at the words.

Tom spun his chair around. “We can't go,” he said. “They'll destroy us.”

They still hovered outside the gate, with ninety-seven black specks in front of Earth, like the screen was just dirty—like Mason could just wipe the enemy ships away with his hand. The bridge, helpfully and automatically, zoomed in on the various Tremist vessels stationed around the ever-unfolding cube. There were the enormously long and tall Isolators, which dwarfed even the Egypt. They didn't resemble animals, but rather a bulky rectangle on its side, thinnest in the middle, with bright red twin engines in the rear, one stacked on top of the other.

Also present were vessels Mason didn't have a name for, of various sizes. Some had purple engines, some blue like the Egypt. The big guns on the moon should've made short work of them. It was supposed to be classified, but Susan had once told him there was a gun on the moon that could create a particle beam as thick as Mason's forearm. A beam of pure matter designed to impale ships and core them like an apple.

But the moon was dark and silent, as if all ESC had evacuated.

“Are you listening?” Tom demanded. “Captain?” he added.

“I'm listening,” Mason replied. “But we still have to go.”

A few of the cadets—Mason didn't look away from Tom, so he didn't know which—muttered their displeasure. One even said, “He can't be serious.”

Another said, “Shut up, he's acting captain.”

Mason wanted to power down the gate, but could they really leave Earth at the mercy of the Tremist? Even if the chances they could help were slim, they might be able to slow the process down and buy time for reinforcements. And that was enough.

Tom bolted upright out of his chair. “You're an
idiot
. They'll destroy us immediately. We have to warn the fleet.”

“I'm sure the fleet has already been warned,” Mason said. “You think Earth didn't send out a transmission or two when these guys showed up?”

Kellan, the second year running the cross station (Mason only just then recalled his name), said, “Sir, the gate is getting hot. We need a decision.”

“One second,” Mason replied with a nod. He wished he had a thousand seconds to decide. Ten thousand.

“Elizabeth,” Merrin said, “where is the rest of the fleet located?”

Elizabeth didn't speak for five whole seconds. Then: “The ESC main forces are amassing behind Saturn. Right now there are twelve ships present. By the end of this universal hour, there are expected to be forty-seven. In seventy-eight minutes those ships will cross into Earthspace to engage the Tremist.”

“What about Olympus?” Tom said. “Where is Olympus?”

Elizabeth was quiet for ten seconds, presumably while she gathered data from the system-wide information net. “Olympus is unavailable for another two hours. Her cross system is jammed.”

Convenient the cross gate for the space station would go down
now
.

This is a coordinated attack,
Mason thought.

Elizabeth spoke again. “Update—it appears the ESC may wait for Olympus's firepower before moving. I will receive another orders update in nine minutes. We are commanded to cross into battle formation behind Saturn at once.”

There it was: a clear command.

Seventy-eight minutes were left, maybe more, if the ESC decided to go without Olympus. The gate was already triple the size it was before, a giant sphere of crisscrossed tubes, fine as spider silk from this far away. Now there was only one question to ask. It was the question that would determine if Mason and his crew could join the relative safety of the fleet, or if he would have to ignore orders once again. This time the order wouldn't be petty, though. Ignoring the command might destroy them all. Looking at the amount of Tremist in system, maybe
might
was the wrong word.

So he took a breath and prepared to ask the question, trying to numb himself against the impending answer.

“Liz,” Mason said. He swallowed, throat dry. “At its current rate, how long until the gate unfolds and is operational?”

Elizabeth waited three more seconds. When she spoke, her voice sounded sad, even though Mason knew that should be impossible. “Thirty-two minutes,” she said.

The air seemed to go out of the bridge. No one spoke. Mason fought not to scream. “Don't they
know
?” he said. “It'll be too late, don't they know?”

“I'm telling them,” Elizabeth said. “They are very busy. They are ignoring my Primary One channel. They are—”

“What is it?” Mason said.

“Tremist have entered Saturnspace. The fleet is trying to cross out, but the Tremist have sent nimble fighters. The Sparrows are destroying cross gates as they deploy.” Mason imagined the needlelike ships zipping through space, attacking cross gates like a swarm of bees.

He felt cold all over. The world was ending right in front of him. How they recaptured the bridge seemed to mean nothing now. Absolutely nothing. Still their cross gate floated just in front of the Egypt
,
waiting for them to pass through. First the moon's defenses had been knocked out somehow, and now Saturn—the Tremist had thought of everything to ensure their victory.

Had they thought of eighteen cadets aboard the SS Egypt?

“The fleet is where we have a chance!” Tom said. “We'll never get close by ourselves.”

“If we leave here, Earth is gone,” Mason reasoned.

Tom took a step forward. “I won't let you kill us all in some insane act you think is bravery.”

Merrin spoke very quietly. “The fleet won't come in time. It's us or nothing.”

“It's suicide,” Tom said.

Mason stood up on watery legs. “Arm everything we've got, Renner. That's an order.” He tried to use the voice of a captain. He had to sound sure of his decision, so the others didn't detect his uncertainty.

“Arm the weapons yourself,” Tom said, preparing to stalk off the bridge.

He made it three steps before Mason grabbed his upper arm and held him fast. “Get back to your station.”

Tom's eyes were wet and bloodshot. “Make me.”

Mason was about to shove him back toward the weapons console, but Tom flung his arm off and swept Mason's legs out from under him. A fast, brutal move Mason hadn't expected. He landed hard on his back, and Merrin let out a yelp of surprise.