Star Brigade: Resurgent (Star Brigade Book 1) (39 page)

Anything and anyone onboard
Phaeton
not secured got thrown around like rag dolls. The ship lights flickered momentarily. Habraum was just getting into his chair when a vicious shockwave threw him backward into V’Korram, sending both to the ground in a heap. Sam went flying out of her place at the comm station. Tyris toppled over and skid across the bridge, hitting the base of the bridge table with a sharp clink. Liliana clung frantically to her seat, the buckling boom of the
Phaeton
drowning out her scream
.

The only thing keeping Honaa seated was wrapping his muscular tail around the helm seat. But even then, he was jostled roughly from side-to-side. Beside him Liddell was unconscious, a nasty gash on his forehead, the safety belt the only thing keeping him seated. Panic knifed through Honaa, but only for a moment. The Rothorid forced himself to swallow that bone-deep fear, and reclaim his composure. He righted himself and leaned over to pull the unconscious pilot off the flight console.

“Ensssign, can you hear me?” That distraction cost him and the
Phaeton
dearly.

THADOOM!
Again and again the ship shook, implacably drilled by z-bombs one after another.

One bomb struck from portside, quaking
Phaeton
to its core. Another walloped topside. The invisible assault persisted, knocking the UComm attack cruiser into a tailspin. Honaa returned focus to the ship’s helm, tuning out the calamity everywhere, clacking his talons across the flight consoles to regain control. The Rothorid stared at the screeching readouts, then the viewscreen. Shields were nearly gone, the primary stellar drives unresponsive.

Ancient creases of a titanic asteroid dominated the screen, rushing up too close far too fast.

“Come on, come on!” Honaa desperately tried pulling the ship back on a straight path.

Yet the
Phaeton
continued to plummet, out of control, toward the face of the asteroid—just as four more z-bombs streaked forward to meet the ship head-on.

21.

The galaxy’s milky core glowed and churned, its spiral as continuous as it was mesmerizing. In that center was an infinite ocean of sights, sounds, tastes and other sensations experienced by the Milky Way’s countless inhabitants. These sensations coursed through Maelstrom like a turbulent river.

Maelstrom floated beside a long viewport, watching from within a domed section of the
Libremancer.
The room he resided in resembled an arcature, a Korvenite place of worship. Beyond that pane of glassteel lay a sweeping panorama of the Milky Way’s galactic hub. The llyriac was the conduit of a Unilink to his Korvenite brethren, entwining and connecting their minds, displaying the wonders of the universe his species had been denied for so long. Below him in the arcature sat a flock of Korvenites he’d just rescued from slavery. Hundreds were linked to their leader, united in thought. Maelstrom stretched his senses even further. He came upon a microscopic coagulation of gases churning, expanding at an unchecked rate. The mixture kept swelling, finally taking up all of the immediate vicinity with no sign of slowing. A dazzling and unsullied energy swelled up in these gases, burning hotter, brighter, almost too intense to behold—the birth of a star.

Wonder scorched through the Unilink from Korvenites formerly of Bimnorii’s rancid slave pens.
[A protostar? How is that possible? I…we could almost touch….The universe is so beautiful…never knew Korvan created such splendor.]
These thoughts, from Korvenites discovering their abilities, didn’t surprise him. Maelstrom projected calm into the Unilink, soothing his overawed congregation.

His intent was to guide these freed Korvenites toward a resolute commitment to Korvan’s Way—and the liberation of Sollus from the humans. The
Libremancer
had left Bimnorii a week ago. With the ship still far from the Galactic Union Nucleus and shrouded from detection, Maelstrom felt that a workout of his followers’ Mindspeak would be harmless.

[Witness the grand beauties of this galaxy, all creations of Korvan Above.]

Maelstrom smiled at his followers, spreading his arms.
[Just like the star is created from former celestial bodies, so will our world be from the soon-dead Galactic Union. Such is Korvan’s will.]

The response was instant and united among the Unilink.
[Korvan’s Anointed will lead us home!]

Maelstrom’s heart soared. Under his leadership these Korvenites’ abilities grew more potent by the day. In the coming weeks, his species would face their greatest challenge. They all needed to be at their best, so he silently beckoned them to stretch their senses further, reaching as far as feasible.

In a deeper part of his mind, which he guarded from those below him, Maelstrom reached out to legions not physically among this gathering. On the volcanic world of Hommodus, a cadre of elite Retributionaries neared a slave pen of Korvenites, unknown to even that world’s government. Their united focus was as tangible as their impending success.

And in an asteroid field near his beloved Sollus, where more of his Retributionaries were procuring sollunium, a Union Command vessel was under assault. Missile after missile pummeled the vessel into submission, every flare-up lit up Maelstrom’s mental picture of what his Retributionaries saw. Even though an odd obstruction kept him from sensing the fear of the ship’s occupants, the Korvenite leader did sense his brethren’s fiendish delight as they continued their onslaught. Victory was near, the UComm ship helplessly spinning toward a large asteroid. Normally the llyriac frowned on arrogance. But he couldn’t do that when observing a UComm ship fall before the Korvenite Independence Front’s wrath.

Further still, on the edges of GUPR space, he caught the far-off impression of a covert operative. No flicker of doubt resided in that cold intellect, only reassurance that their plan was on schedule.

Maelstrom allowed himself a sneer. Thinking no more about these outlying matters, he turned his attention back to the congregation below.
[Korvan’s mission will be realized. Our enemies will fall and Sollus will be ours once again. There can be no other outcome.]

22.

On the far side of the bridge, Habraum fought to extricate himself from V’Korram. Then he spied the ship tumbling into the face of an asteroid—and Ensign Liddell slumped over his helm controls.

“What the—?”Habraum was up in a heartbeat, tottering across the distance to helm control as the ship continued spiraling. He persisted forward, and his thoughts fell on Jennica, almost tripping him up. Had his wife known fear in her final moments, or was she killed instantly not knowing what happened? The question had popped into Habraum’s head at the oddest times since her death. The Cerc dragged his focus back to CT-1, now dangerously close to meeting a similar fate.

Habraum reached the helm and saw Honaa already at
Phaeton’s
controls. “Sssit tight Captain, I have thisss.” His talons clacked adeptly at the flight controls.

At the last instant, the
Phaeton
pulled up sharply from its plummet—away from the asteroid. As it did, the potent shockwave from a distant explosion joggled the ship slightly.

Out of nowhere three more z-bombs and a salvo of scorching plasma bursts screeched at them. Habraum again felt the urge to take the seat next to the Rothorid, to bend the situation to his will. But Honaa gracefully rolled to port, pulled downward with a sudden burst of speed and completed the maneuver with a successful loop around the barrage.

Another double flurry of plasma bursts. Honaa rolled to starboard this time, hit the throttle and punched straight through a narrow space between the bright-red walls of exploding energy.

Habraum had always known that Honaa was a good pilot. His piloting style was rushed, but not jumpy, always thinking three moves ahead like a typical Rothorid. Habraum released a sigh he didn’t even know he was holding, assured his team was safe.
For now.

“I’d do thisss better without you hovering,” Honaa rasped stiffly, eyes locked on the viewscreen.

“Oh. Pardons.” Habraum resigned back to his command seat. “Status!”

“Ships systems were temporarily disrupted by the z-bomb impacts, but all essential systems are back up,” Sam reported, trying to see straight. The Cerc didn’t miss the hard spill she took during the z-bomb strike. “Hull integrity is intact. Most of what we felt was only crash, bang and boom impact.”

“But without our shields, we’d have been blown to smithereens?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” said Sam dryly.

“Told ya humans use that word,” Khrome muttered, offering his hand to a shaken-up Tyris.

“Speaking of shields…” Habraum turned toward the tech station.

“At twenty percent and rising.” Khrome looked unharmed by the crash, thanks to near-impenetrable metal skin. His right hand moved like a blur over his console, while with his left he hoisted up Tyris back to his seat. “No direct damage to the shield generator, auto-repair kicking in at full force. Should be at full power in ten macroms.”

The
Phaeton
snapped off a quick 360-degree roll as two more z-bombs torpedoed in from behind, cutting the throttle and then arching upward, barely avoiding another blistering plasma wave. This drew a faint whimper from Liliana Cortes.

“Arcturus, prime weapons. But I need something to fire at first,” Habraum straightened out his uniform with as much poise as he could muster. “Jakadda, any luck finding a fuel discharge?”

“Not yet sir, but I am trying variant frequency scans to ferret them out.” V’Korram’s eyes flashed with a predatory thrill as he clacked his fingers across his ops station—one of the few times Habraum had seen anything other than anger or surliness on the Kintarian’s face.

“Crescendo?” The doctor had her slender limbs wrapped around her seat snake-like, her small eyes impossibly wide and staring at nothing. “Dr. Cortes?” That reached her. She stared at Habraum as if never seeing anything like him before.

The Cerc bucked his teeth and bit down annoyance. Bringing her was a mistake. “When things calm down, I need you to look at Ensign Liddell?” Liliana’s response was the faintest of nods, right before staring off at the ceiling again.

“Sir!” V’Korram’s snarl startled Habraum. “Detecting an energy echo trailing from our left, probably an older stellar drive engine.”

“And I’m getting a faint outline of a ship in that location. Caught it in my sweep of that area from the last plasma attack,” Khrome chimed in. “It’s not much, but enough to acquire a target.”

Habraum wasted no time. “Arcturus, fire at will.”

Tyris mercilessly unloaded the
Phaeton’s
batteries when Honaa cut a sharp left turn, dodging another z-bomb flurry. The concussion of blazing energy pounded and lit up the large sleek outline of another ship not far from their port side.

“Direct hit,” V’Korram roared. “Broad-spectrum damage to the shroud and primary engines.”

“I want the ship disabled, not destroyed. Khrome, anything on our attacker?”

Khrome blinked with interest, as data on the mysterious ship finally scrolled on his display. “Looks like a
Raider-
Class vessel, but with subtle differences from the UComm and Kedri flavors. Thankfully like all other ships, it can’t initiate any type of shielding when shrouded—.”

“Incoming at sssstarboard!” Honaa hissed. A dazzling volley revealed the
Raider’s
companion ship still alive and shrouded. A dive then a sudden climb put the
Phaeton
right below the first ship, whose damaged shroud winked its outline in and out of visibility.

Despite this, sizzling plasma bursts blazed from the damaged ship’s weapon ports, but Habraum knew
Phaeton’s
shields could handle them. Tyris peppered the
Raider
ship across its underbelly with a blistering combo of photon fusillade and low-level neutrino disabling shots.

The attacking ship was now fully exposed; a stretched out, slender, dark-grey triangular body with a dagger-like nose pointed out. Its curves and glowing weapon banks made it look more like a sleek pulse rifle with engines. Habraum studied the vessel coldly, recognizing its make and type at a glance. Definitely Raider-Class, perfect for sneak attacks or high-speed escapes. Now the ship floated aimlessly in space, crippled as the
Phaeton
moved on to its new target.

More plasma fire rained down on the
Phaeton,
from a cloaked location. Honaa barrel-rolled right and pulled up into a breakneck climb, setting them in position for a clean shot at where the plasma bursts originated. Tyris, a wicked glimmer in his cobalt eyes, unleashed the
Phaeton’s
weapons.

The photon bursts cut through nothing but dark empty space. The other ship had vanished, again.

Habraum swore. “Khrome, Jakadda, where is that ship?”

“Not sure. This one’s being more careful and masking its energy trails— wait a macrom.” Khrome frowned at the bridge’s main viewport.

“I’m sensing…
something
nearby,” he finally said, ignoring the concerned looks of his teammates.