Children of the Void: Book One of the Aionian Saga (12 page)

Gideon dozed, jerking awake as his head fell. “I’m exhausted. I think I’ll go get some sleep.” He stood, but Takomi reached out and grabbed his arm.

“Stay with me a little longer.” Her hand was warm and soft, touching him in a way she never had before. He found he missed it as soon as she pulled it away.
 

The two of them leaned back on the bench, and Takomi angled ever so slightly into him. His chest tightened, and he tried not to exhale too forcefully. It came out as an awkward wheezing sound, which led to a fit of coughing.

Takomi looked sideways at him. “Everything okay?”

Gideon nodded, swallowing hard as he did so. She laughed softly, giving him a playful shove, then settling into a position slightly closer than she had been a moment before.

Gideon glanced at her, seeing her shining black hair brushing his shoulder, noticing the profile of her face. He had always thought of her face as girlish, but it had changed while he hadn’t been paying attention. It was longer and more defined, a woman’s face. Her skin was fair and smooth. She had a certain smell, familiar, and yet it was as if he was experiencing it for the first time.

He took a deep breath, then lifted his arm up behind her and placed his fingers on her back. Instead of cringing away, as he’d half expected her to, Takomi let her head droop forward so that her hair fell over her shoulders and down around her neck. Encouraged, Gideon let his fingers trail back and forth over her back.

Without warning, Takomi leapt off the bench toward the glass window. “What the hell?”

“I’m sorry,” said Gideon. “I just thought...”

“What is that?” said Takomi, pressing her hands against the glass.

Gideon looked out the window in time to see a flash of white light before it disappeared. When it was gone, a metallic gold vessel took its place, drifting in orbit around Valkyrie. It was long, flat, and streamlined, like a golden arrowhead.

“There’s something out there,” said Gideon, jumping up and joining her at the window.

“I know, but what is it?”

The vessel was difficult to see with the planet in the background. Only a sliver of its golden surface reflected the light from Valkyrie’s sun.
 

Gideon tapped the glass two times, then placed the index fingers of both hands together and pulled them apart. A square appeared between his fingers, framing the ship. He put all five fingers of his right hand against the magnified image, and turned it like a dial, bringing the vessel into focus.

Takomi stared, open mouthed, and made a small noise. “It’s them,” she whispered. “It’s the Luzariai.”
 

“We’ve got to go tell somebody...” His words were interrupted by another white flash close to the golden ship. When the light faded, a second vessel appeared. The two ships could not be any more different. Where the Luzariai ship was smooth and metallic, the new ship looked like an insect’s cocoon with spikes jutting out of it at odd angles. It was difficult to judge distances in orbit around the planet, but in any case, it was clear that this second vessel was many times larger than the Luzariai ship.

No sooner had this second ship appeared than it opened fire on the Luzariai. Bolts of lightning shot out from the spikes on the bigger ship and blasted chunks off of the other. The golden ship returned fire with some sort of energy weapon. The hull of the larger ship glowed red in several places, but it was clear that it was not going well for the Luzariai.

Takomi grabbed onto Gideon’s arm. “We have to sound the alarm. We have to warn the crew.” Gideon nodded, tearing his eyes off of the silent battle outside. An earsplitting klaxon sounded overhead. Red lights flashed, and the voice of the communications officer came over the PA. Gideon and Takomi froze in their tracks as they listened. “Full alert, full alert. Possible hostiles sighted. All crew to battle stations. This is not a drill.”

The message repeated itself. Gideon and Takomi looked at each other, then back out the window at the battle. Small vessels came out of the spiky teardrop ship, identical to the mother ship in every way but size. The Luzariai ship allowed the smaller vessels to come in close before it let loose a fierce barrage with devastating effect. Several of them disintegrated under the onslaught, and in response, the bigger ship released another volley of lightning attacks.
 

Gideon’s eyes were glued to the violence. The golden ship flipped and shot off away from its attacker. The teardrop ship moved to pursue, but the smaller, more agile ship sped away toward Valkyrie. Gideon noticed that neither ship seemed to use rocket propulsion. They simply moved where they wanted to go. The golden ship glowed like a meteor as it hit the atmosphere at full speed. Four of the smaller teardrop vessels left the bigger ship behind and followed their prey down to the surface.

Released from the spell, Gideon grabbed Takomi’s arm and tugged her toward the door.
 

“We need to go now!”
 

She tumbled after him, regained her balance, and then ran with him down the corridor. Red lights swirled overhead as they sprinted toward the bridge.

A
POLITE
TAP
at the door roused Tloltan from her sleep. She rolled onto her side and swung her legs over the edge of her cot. “Enter.”

The door slid open, and Ukte stood in the entrance, hands clasped behind his back. Without his Koramoa Armor, it was impossible to ignore how young he was. “Sorry to wake you, Koramoa Tloltan, but we’ve arrived. The ship will be exiting the tunnel within the hour.”

Tloltan stood. “Thank you, Ukte. I’ll join you soon.”

The young warrior bowed his head respectfully, then retreated. Tloltan stretched, hearing old joints pop and groan. Once again, she caught herself thinking she should have stayed behind and sent a younger Koramoa in her place.

We’ve been over this. There was no other way. Stop second guessing yourself.

Tloltan’s eyes closed as she soaked in the last few minutes of peace and quiet. Her fingers absently brushed over the bracer on her wrist. “I know,” she said finally. “I just wish things could be different.”

You of all people should know that’s a dangerous way of thinking.

Her eyes flicked open. “You don’t have to remind me.” She picked up a food packet and left the room, walking toward the cockpit at a leisurely pace as the food packet expanded and gave off steam. She sat in her captain’s chair, opening the packet and setting it on the side table to cool.

She punched a button on her console. “Status?”

The voice of Itzau filled the cockpit. “All systems functioning properly. We will exit the tunnel in twenty-three minutes. The Maodoni ship will slip out within another minute afterward. No time to run, or hide.”

Tloltan’s eyes closed, and her weathered hands gripped the controls. “We’ll just have to hope everything goes according to plan. You two have your orders, and I know you’ll perform exceptionally. Take this time to prepare yourselves.”

“Yes, Koramoa Tloltan.” Itzau was silent, but hadn’t disconnected the link. “May I say something, Koramoa?” she asked.

“Please do,” answered Tloltan.

Another few moments of silence. “I wanted to say, I am honored that you entrusted me to accompany you, and I’m happy to die for our mission.”

Tloltan grimaced. “The honor is mine, Itzau, but you would make me very happy if you did not die.”

“I will do my best.” This time, the link disconnected. The only sound in the cockpit was the omnipresent hum of the ship. Tloltan continued to grip the controls, eyes shut, while playing out in her mind the possibilities of the impending battle.

A beep interrupted her meditations, followed by Itzau’s voice. “Two minutes, Koramoa Tloltan. We’re ready for them.”

That was a lie, but it didn’t matter. Tloltan wasn’t about to waste energy bemoaning their fate. Once again, her hand gravitated to the stone hanging around her neck. Its familiar weight and texture helped to clear her mind. With a slow, deep breath, she gave the mental signal to her constant companion, and the bracer at her wrist fluttered open in a wave until she was clad in armor once again.

You seem calm. That’s good.

“It’s not our first battle.”

But probably our last.

She smiled. “You’ve said that before, too.”

Usually it was a joke. Something to lighten the mood.

The only answer Tloltan gave was a grunt.

If it means anything to you, I just want to say you’ve been my favorite Koramoa.

“I’m sure you’ve told all of them the same thing.”

Some of them, yes, but that’s only because I hadn’t met you yet.

This elicited a small laugh from Tloltan. The first one in a long time. “Thank you, old friend.”

Itzau’s voice sounded in Tloltan’s ear. “Fifteen seconds.”

Tloltan acknowledged. “That went by too fast.”

“Ready,” said Itzau, “exiting tunnel... now.”

The familiar vibrations coursed through Tloltan’s body as the walls of the cockpit blurred and stretched. When they snapped back into place, a blue planet lay before her on the display, and a warning alarm was going off.

“Possible ship, off our starboard,” Itzau said in a calm voice. In a moment, the anomaly was up on Tloltan’s display. A long cylindrical object, many times larger than their own ship, orbited the planet not far from their position.

It’s a primitive design, one I’ve never seen before. Whatever it is, it’s not Maodoni.

“Ignore it for now,” said Tloltan over the ship wide band. “Focus your attention on the Maodoni ship. Itzau, whatever the cost, you must destroy their quantum drive.”

“Contact,” said Ukte. By the time Tloltan’s display showed the hideous Maodoni ship exiting the tunnel, the first blast from their energy weapons struck the hull. The tiny ship shook under the onslaught but held together.

“Fire, Itzau.”

The order was unnecessary. Itzau’s cannon was already firing at full power with little regard for energy drain. “Direct hit,” she shouted. “Quantum drive should be out now.”

Her voice was drowned out by a catastrophic barrage from the enemy ship. If it weren’t for the restraints, Tloltan would have been thrown from the chair.

“Multiple systems down,” shouted Ukte over the com. “Quantum drive, life support, shield generators. All failing.”

“They’re sending troop ships,” said Itzau. “Multiple transports heading our way.”

Tloltan spun the ship around to present the strongest side to the enemy. “We can’t let them board us. Full power to the cannon. Take them down, Itzau.”

The cannon fired over and over, disintegrating several troop transports. Seconds later, the main Maodoni ship opened fire with renewed violence. The smaller Luzariai ship shuddered and groaned as dozens of alarms sounded.

This battle’s over. Time to leave.

“Right.” Tloltan grunted. “Shut down the cannon. Full power to engines. We’re running.”

“Ukte’s not responding,” said Itzau. “I’ll try to get to the engineering pod and divert the power.”

“Go.” The ship groaned as Tloltan spun away to evade further bombardment. “Come on,” she muttered. “Hold together a little longer.”

Itzau came back over the com. “Diverting power now. Ukte is dead.”

Both sentences were uttered without any emotion, just two more status updates. Tloltan had no time to grieve either as the added power shot them away from their attacker and down toward the planet below.

T
HE
BRIDGE
WAS
in full battle mode as Gideon and Takomi raced in. Men and women worked furiously at their screens, making adjustments and rattling off numbers to their superiors. Several officers wore Sentinel Armor, but most were either in uniform or still in their pajamas. The image of the teardrop spaceship dominated the big front screens as the crew worked to analyze the craft. It was a different scene from the one usually witnessed on the bridge, with weapons systems replacing the diagrams of autopod and sewer networks.
 

In the center of everything stood Admiral Killdeer in his Sentinel Armor, shouting commands and checking reports. “I want every rail gun targeting the spikes. Don’t worry about the main ship right now. Hawkins, where’s that hull material analysis? How many fighter pilots do we have ready to fly? Make sure they’re locked and loaded, but keep them docked until I give the order. Is the biosphere empty yet? I don’t care about the cows, make sure everyone is ready for evac. Where’s my son?”

Someone pointed in their direction, and Admiral Killdeer spun around as Takomi and Gideon jogged up to him. “You two, suit up and get to a starfighter, now. If things get out of hand, I want you to escort the shuttles away from that ship, got it?”

Gideon gave Takomi a frightened look.

“Dad, we’re just cadets.”

“Don’t argue with me, Gid. Fifty percent of the SFs are inoperable because they need Sentinel Armor to fly. I don’t have enough pilots or suits. You two are here, and you’ve got access to the Armor. I’m hoping this ugly bastard isn’t here to start a fight, but if he is, you’ve been trained for this. Now get moving.”

“But Dad...”

“Now, cadet. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” said Gideon.

He and Takomi saluted before they spun around and ran to the elevator. The doors closed, and the elevator car carried them toward the labs at a painfully slow pace. The moment the doors opened, they burst through and sprinted toward the lab doors.

The room where they’d spent hours debugging Sentinel Armor was a circus of activity. Racks of armor lined the walls, divided up by those that were ready and those that hadn’t been cleaned of the virus.

Diana Tsukamoto stood on top of a table in her pajamas, shouting directions to pilots and soldiers.

“No, not that pile, those are no good. You, take that stack over to the hangar now. Takomi, what are you doing here?”