Chapter One
“There it is,” I muttered. An orbiting superstructure rotated on the viewscreen before me, silhouetted by the bluish-white planet. This monstrosity was far smaller than its sibling, the Torian orbital station, but still far larger than the Rulusian vessel we rode in.
I studied the hulking mass of dark gray metal which symbolized so much pain and suffering. A long boom, half the length of the satellite, jutted toward the planet. At the very tip, a sensor sphere conducted scans of the planet. Beams penetrated deep under the planet’s surfaces and bounced back to large cupped blades surrounding the satellite’s cylindrical body. The strength of these beams tracked the planet’s citizens, rooting out large gatherings of anti-government forces. Violent executions had run rampant, and had to be stopped.
That’s why I was here.
A Rulusian Captain sat stoic at my right, his black dress uniform fitting tight. Three golden rings on each shoulder pad caught the light, nearly blinding me. He lifted his bald green head and tilted it to either side, neck bones cracking. Sweat formed and rolled down my skin, from the extra-humid conditions Rulusians preferred. He smirked. “Well, Aston, shall we get their attention?”
“Sounds like a plan,” I told him.
Thousands of blue organic crystals comprised the sensor sphere and supplied the transmitter’s tremendous power. The pit of my stomach tightened into a knot, just below the Mark II blaster holstered outside my black jumpsuit. I’d unknowingly delivered those very crystals into the hands of the Torian king during my last visit to this system. In essence, I’d assisted his plan of genocide.
Sweet satisfaction would come with the satellite’s destruction, and appeasing my guilt an added bonus.
He turned his attention to one of the stations along the round bridge’s right wall. “Helm, set a course just this side of the border.”
“Aye, Captain.” The planet shifted left off the screen as our massive aft engines kicked in for the maneuver.
“We greatly appreciate your help, Captain.” His actions placed him at great risk, even with his home world.
“Glad to do it. Hopefully you remember we’re not officially helping you.”
I let out a brief chuckle. “Well, you’re doing a fine job of not officially helping us.”
The ship’s first officer, whose name I couldn’t remember, spoke up from the opposite side of the bridge, her feminine voice steady. “Captain, a Torian heavy cruiser is on an intercept course.”
Behind us on the left, the communications officer announced, “They’re hailing us.”
“As expected.” The Captain stood and pulled his uniform taut. “Put it through, Lieutenant, audio only.”
“Connection’s live.”
“This is Captain Dillager of the Rulusian freighter Green Four.” He clasped his hands behind his back.
A rough, low voice broke the silence, each syllable heavily emphasized. “Captain, I demand you vacate this vicinity immediately!”
The Captain’s attitude ratcheted up a notch. “With whom am I speaking?”
“Commander Roth Sevil, Torian Planetary Defenses.”
“Commander, double-check your sensors. We are within the borders of interstellar space, and will continue as we see fit.”
“Unacceptable! What is your destination?”
“My crew and I are simply doing a little sightseeing.”
I barely kept from laughing. The cruiser’s Commander didn’t take the rebuke so well. “I demand you leave immediately! Do not force us to open fire.”
Dillager narrowed his eyes at the cruiser drawing closer on the viewscreen. “Commander, two Rulusian destroyers are currently protecting the Toris orbital station. They would be happy to settle any dispute you have with our flight path.”
A few moments of silence passed. “Ensure your flight path does not stray. We will open fire!”
The communications officer alerted us to the obvious. “Connection’s terminated.”
The male Rulusian keeping an eye on the scanner system piped up. “Two light cruisers now on an intercept course from the satellite.”
The Captain unclasped his hands and folded his arms across his chest. “Any other ships around the satellite?”
“No, sir.”
Dillager turned to me. “It seems you have your distraction.”
“Thanks again, Captain. We’ll catch you at the rendezvous point.” I started toward the back of the bridge.
“Happy hunting.”
A doorway slid open and I walked through. The grill plates under my feet echoed with each step I took through the dimly lit corridor. Rione Sc’lari, my good friend, rested on one knee along the corridor, tightening one of her bootstraps. She wore a dark body suit similar to my own; mine made me feel naked. Judging from the sight of hers, I worried it wasn’t just paranoid feelings. At least she had better curves.
She looked up when I told her, “Looks like they’re taking the bait.”
“Everything should be ready.”
She lifted a disintegrator cannon sitting beside her feet. My heart skipped a beat seeing the long-barreled weapon; the first time we’d met, what seemed so long ago, Rione had tried to kill me with one. “I guess so.”
I placed my hand on a small display screen nestled in the wall. After a quick scan, it beeped its approval and a series of clicks followed as the bay’s hatch hissed open.
“So, how’s the shoulder holding up?”
I lied, even as the joint in question objected. “Couldn’t be better.”
“Glad to hear it.”
She walked inside, immediately calling out to the rest of our strike team. “Suit up!”
I looked to the far end of the bay, where a tiny ship rested. Three pale-skinned Torians in similar body suits rushed over to the inboard wall, their feet squishing against the landing bay floor. They opened up a set of hard plastic lockers, pulling out bright white pressure suits. Rione and I strolled over.
“Sure you don’t want to take along something more?” She nodded toward my Mark II blaster and its holster.
“It’ll be fine.” Like an old, comfortable piece of furniture, I knew every nuance of the weapon. It fit me and never let me down. The thought of swapping it for something new never entered my mind.
“You’ll be sorry.”
Ordinarily, a Rulusian freighter’s cargo bay would only be wide enough for an ordinary transport container. This particular ship had been extensively modified, turning three bays into a single hangar. I watched Rione slip inside her white suit before opening up my own locker. The stench of stale air invaded my nostrils.
This freighter had been modified specifically for covert missions such as this. So had its predecessor, a freighter designated Green Three which Rione had operated as Captain.
She walked in front of me, green eyes penetrating. “You have the tool?”
I searched the suit in front of me, and pulled a slender metal rectangle from its left breast pocket. “Right here.”
“Distracted?”
The Torians headed off for the miniature ship. Rione had already closed up her suit, save for the helmet stuck in the crook of her arm.
“Sorry, just thinking.”
“Hopefully you’ll get all of that out of your system.” She stepped away to join our Torian counterparts.
“I will.” I pulled my holster off, then slipped into the pressure suit and returned my weapon where it belonged.
Grabbing the helmet, I rushed to catch up with Rione. Just like the freighter, this Rescue Operation Craft had been modified to fit this specific mission. The short, squat craft was meant for medical transport and evacuation. The modifications had been minor, but would be a huge part of our mission. I was just disappointed they hadn’t installed some weaponry on the ship itself, maybe a heavy torpedo or a plasma cannon. That would have made our task far simpler than it was bound to be.
Rione spoke to the nearest Torian. “Is everything ready?”
“Pre-flight checks are complete.”
“Good,” I said.
“Glad to see you made it, Jake.” Rione’s lips curled in a smug expression.
His cheeks beamed. “You think I’d miss this chance?”
I shifted my helmet to the other hand. “I didn’t think space ops were your thing, Falcon.”
“Cripes! A guy gets sick off a bad batch of Borolo one time and he’s labeled for life.”
Rione smiled. “Take the gurney seat.”
“I swear I won’t puke on anyone.”
She caught a laugh in her throat. It was time to get down to business. “Grab your weapons.”
The Torians stepped over to an open weapons locker and pulled out three automatic burst rifles, along with belts full of energy clips. Jake grabbed another belt, this one filled with explosive charges, handing it to Rione.
“I think these are yours.”
She wrapped the belt around her waist, and it dropped slightly to her hips.
The pale-faced Torian turned to me. “You want a different weapon?”
“This will be fine.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You have extra energy clips?”
The one thing I hadn’t thought of. I decided against cursing my luck and shook my head.
Rione was insistent. “Aston, take another weapon.”
I looked over at the weapons locker and found a stubby-barreled weapon. To appease everyone, I pulled the thing from its mounting rack by a pair of handles, one on the side and one on top.
One of the other Torians piped up. “Firedart launcher. Nice choice.”
“Sounds dangerous,” the third one noted.
Jake nodded. “It is.”
I nodded. “You definitely don’t want to be on the receiving end of one.” I examined the launch tube. Empty. “Hope you loaded some ammo.”
Jake snagged a belt of energy clips out of the locker and pulled out a black bag before handing both over to me. I snapped the bag onto the belt before checking on the dozen red, elliptical shells inside, then wrapped it around my waist. I opted to wait until we were on the station to load the chamber. There was no sense accidentally setting one off and making this a suicide mission.
“Then, let’s move.”
I scrambled over and climbed the ladder first, taking the co-pilot’s chair. Jake slid down through an access hole between the two rear seats. He eased into the gurney area, a small pressurized enclosure meant for transporting critical victims. He closed a hatch behind him.
The other two Torians took their spots before Rione eased into the pilot’s position. We stowed our weapons where we could. She hit a button on the center panel, causing slow grinds to bellow in the makeshift hangar. The boarding ladder spun aft and retracted into the side of the craft while our spherical canopy lowered.
Rione reached for the middle display in the forward panel and tuned the screen to a secure channel. An image of Dillager appeared, sitting in his chair.
She started, “We’re ready, Captain.”
“Remember, turn on the noise generator before you get too far from us.”
“Will do.”
“Stand by.” The Captain motioned off-screen and a modified bay door rose along tracks above our heads. Loud ratcheting echoed through the canopy.
Rione flipped a few more switches below the middle display and grabbed the yoke as thrusters came on-line. She eased it back and stomped the left-hand pedal at her feet. The ship was responsive, rising and turning toward the empty starfield. We jetted forward into the darkness.
Rione focused on the display. “We’re clear, Captain.”
He nodded off-screen and the transmission ended; the screen switched to a short-range sensor scan. I touched the screen where red triangular symbols marked the two light cruisers closing in on the Rulusian freighter’s full green circle. The heavy cruiser was still electronically masked from our sensors by the dingy white whale beside us, which also blocked our visuals out the translucent canopy. “Looks like they’re still taking the bait.”
Everything was going according to plan. Rione put her finger on a scabbed-on switch to the right of the yoke. Four massive, bell-shaped nozzles cast a bright blue glow over the canopy. We eased past the freighter’s aft end and she flipped it up. A deep hum started in the back.
“Ready or not...” She banked toward the satellite.
I kept my eyes on the sensor screen. “Light cruisers are still heading for the freighter.” I took a moment and watched them through the canopy, dagger-like silhouettes piercing across the bluish-white backdrop.
One of the Torians piped up from the back seat, his voice tense. “They can’t see us?”
I fielded the question. “If they had windows on their bridge, they could. Our noise generator should cancel out our radiation pattern, make us invisible to scanners.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“Almost there.” Rione corrected course slightly as we ventured unimpeded toward the satellite’s crown, a convex metal housing which held the primary control center.
Rione shut off the noise generator as we got close enough to be enveloped by the mammoth structure’s sensor signature. She eased the ROC down on the wide rim surrounding the crown. The landing skids barely even thumped against the hard metal. Embedded in the hull plate in front of our ship was an access hatch. One of the two Torians in the back pulled open the center hatch, and we all stared at Jake, whose pale face was tinted green from the trip.
“Enjoying yourself?” Rione smirked.
He swallowed. “Immensely.”
She shut down the engines and we all donned our helmets. Dim blue light tinted the inside lower half of my visor. Rione gripped her disintegrator cannon before opening the canopy and her voice sounded off just beside my ears. “Let’s destroy a satellite.”
Moving across toward the access hatch, I reached into my pocket, pulling out the tiny pad. I eyed the four edges, even if there didn’t seem any visible method of removal.
Rione peered over my shoulder. “Sure this will work?” I smashed the pad against the access hatch. A red light in the tip flashed, barely visible through my visor.
I held my hands against the right side of the hatch. “If not, this will be a pretty short mission.”
Jake moved closer. “A lot of folks lost their lives for detailed station specs. Don’t worry, it’ll work.”
We watched for any sign of operation, but the pad did nothing but flash incessantly. The folks who’d supplied it to us insisted that it would override the security system and unlock any external hatch without alerting the crew of the station.
Moments passed, before Rione spoke through the speakers. “How long should this take?”
“Not much longer.” My words were prophetic as the hatch finally popped loose. I held the panel tight, easing up just enough for the panel to rotate out on a pair of hinges. Vapors escaped the airlock chamber we exposed.
I turned to Rione, motioning toward the opening. “After you.”
We scrambled inside as quick as our pressure suits would allow, and I tugged the hatch shut. The entire team knelt under the compartment’s low ceiling. Rione stared at me through her blue-tinted visor. “So, where to?”
I’d studied the blueprints of the satellite until I saw them in my sleep. Three doorways led away from here; we wanted the one directly across from the outer hatch. I crawled toward it, grabbing hold of the large metal wheel.
Cranking the wheel with all of my might, the seal popped and revealed a rectangular maintenance duct beyond. Miniature yellowish-orange wall-mounted lights presented the path along the floor, while wiring flowed overhead in mesh conduits. I led the way on my hands and knees.
Moments later, I came upon a ventilation grate in the floor. Ducking my head down, I peeked through the mesh.
“See anything?” Rione whispered.
Dingy gray walls adorned the empty hall. A lone guard stepped toward the external hull. He turned on his heels and marched back the other direction, passing below us. His dark blue uniform seemed more like something I’d expect out of a palace guard than on a military base. He wasn’t even wearing any sort of body armor. Bad for him, good for us.
I waited for him to move out of sight, then whispered to the others, “One guard.” I gingerly pulled the grate up, then pulled my Mark II from its holster.
Just as he walked back into view, he looked up at the gaping hole. I fired off a three-shot burst into his chest and he dropped like a pile of rocks.
Thankful there weren’t any automatic blast sensors to trigger an alarm, I jumped down and peered up and down the short corridor while the rest of the team joined me. Another hallway along the interior wall crossed ahead of sliding doors; the control center. That hall ran a complete loop around the station. We’d take a different path.
“Take your positions,” I instructed.
Everyone ducked behind exposed frames along the corridor’s sides. I sprinted to the right wall, where Jake and Rione waited.
He smiled. “This will be easier than we thought.”
I frowned. “It’s never easy. Trust me.” Halfway along this outer corridor was the other maintenance hatch we needed. I turned to face Jake. “Rione and I will head down to the reactor and meet you back here.”
She interrupted, “Once the charges are in place, we’ll set the evacuation alarm. The timers will be set for fifteen wertals.”
Jake’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Isn’t that plenty of time to disarm the charges?”
I exhaled a deep breath. “The charges will blow ahead of schedule if they try to.”
“Let’s hope they don’t, then.”
Rione slapped his shoulder. “Everything will be fine.”
Holstering my weapon, I trotted across the hall with Rione on my heels. She stood guard, her disintegrator cannon propped on her thigh. Thankfully the internal hatches were all quick-release types, with a thumb latch in each corner. Making quick work of those, the panel fell out of place and struck the floor with a muffled clang.
“Stop right there!”
I turned as three more guards appeared at the corner, their dress uniforms identical to their fallen comrade.
“Attack!” Rione bellowed. With one quick pull of her trigger, the disintegator cannon blasted the lead guard square in the chest. The other two jumped away, watching wide eyed as his body decomposed. Blood curdling screams filled the hallway and my skin crawled.
They scrambled back around the corner as Rione fired another shot. A bright orange mark glowed on the wall, marking the point of impact.
Rione shouldered her weapon. “Let’s go.”
A flurry of crossfire echoed in my ears. I climbed through the opening and grabbed the rungs in front of me. Rione rushed after and we scrambled down the shaft. I pushed a button on my helmet’s side, lighting up a bright white lamp overhead which penetrated the dark abyss as I glanced down.
“There should be a vent duct around here.” A small grate similar to the first lay in the wall behind us, a few rungs down. “Found it.”
Once directly across from it, I reached back, barely touching the small metal bars with the tips of my gloves. I clutched the rungs and collected myself, then stuck one foot against the far wall to balance myself, shoving my fingers into the holes. A sharp tug proved this one to be a lot more secure than the last.
Rione’s impatience grew. “Can you pull any harder?”
I swung back and gripped the ladder. “Not like this.”
She stepped down a few rungs and without warning, kicked backwards at the grate. The echo of distorted metal rang out.
“Try now.”
I positioned myself once more, grabbing hold of the grate. This time, it pulled out easy. I dropped it down the shaft, listening as it clanked off the walls.
“Showoff,” I muttered.
“Let’s move. We’re on a time crunch.”
This next duct was like the one we’d entered the station by, except smaller and lacking such benefits as lights. A klaxon echoed through the ductwork, while a red light reflected throughout the shaft we just left. Odd shadows shot past us with each flash.
“Looks like news travels fast,” I remarked.
“Hopefully, it isn’t too far,” Rione mumbled.
“It isn’t.” I crawled along, before a thought popped in my head. “Hopefully the cruisers won’t be diverted, as we planned.”
“Trust me, they won’t bother. Not until the crew starts evacuating.”
I grimaced. “That’s reassuring.”
I reached another intersection and headed to the right. My helmet’s beam reflected off the walls and nearly blinded me. Rione bumped into me from behind.
“I didn’t think it was this far from the specs.”
I squinted. “Trust me. This left is the last one.”
“I hope so.”
We turned the corner and reached another panel identical to the other ventilation grates we’d come across. I kicked out the cover and dropped to the floor. Automatic lights flickered to life as I landed and scurried over. Rione fell beside me.
Pipes coated with condensation stood along one wall. Small shelves rested in the corners, stocked with cleaning and maintenance supplies. A lone doorway stood before us. I once more pulled my Mark II from its holster.
Rione motioned toward the doorway, lifting her weapon as a precaution. “Lead the way.”
I pressed an oversized silver button along the frame, and the hatch slid open. I peeked out into the empty hallway. As hoped, the station’s crew had been summoned to the main deck to counter the invasion squad.
The two of us jogged along until the inside of the corridor became a half-wall, exposing the satellite’s guts. A huge gaping expanse filled the area, broken only by a cylindrical metal pod at the very center.
The reactor core.
Above the pod, interlaced trusses ran in six different directions, doubling as supports for the vessel’s antenna blades outside. A metal footbridge led down a level from where we stood to the core and its circumferential walkway.
“Two, maybe three inside?” I asked as we ran down the nearest bridge
“If the reports we received were correct.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem, then.”
“Just don’t launch off a firedart in there. I’d rather not become a martyr if I can help it.”
I didn’t bother bringing up the fact I still hadn’t loaded the weapon bouncing off my hip with each step. I just wished the core room wasn’t heavily shielded from the outside, so I could use it from here. No, the only way to take out the reactor was from the inside. “You’re the one who wanted me to bring a weapon along.”
“I didn’t figure you’d pick that thing.”
“Surprise.”
We scurried down the footbridge, reaching the core’s narrow walkway. I was immediately leery of its edge protected only by a slender pipe railing and widely spaced vertical posts. We reached the single hatch and its security keypad.
Rione mumbled under her breath. “Let’s hope the code’s still good.”
“Everything’s been as they told us so far,” I offered.
She punched in a series of numbers and a green light flashed on the keypad. The hatch slid open and we rushed in, catching two pale Torians in white lab coats off-guard. Rione fired off a shot as one of them grabbed for a laser pistol resting on the counter.
His body decomposed amidst gut-wrenching screams, and her cannon whined through its recharge cycle. The other technician tried to take advantage of the respite and grabbed for the same pistol.
I fired my blaster, striking his arm with far less dramatic effect. He grabbed the injured limb, cursing.
“Step away from the console,” I demanded. “You get shot in the chest next time.” He glared at me, but complied once Rione’s weapon reached full power and fell silent.
The air inside the core room was bitter and cold. Two consoles being used by these technicians sat along one wall while three enclosed cabinets stood opposite them.
I stared our captive down, speaking to Rione. “Make it quick.”
At the very center of the room was a clear cylindrical chamber filled with a luminescent green fluid. Rione slapped each charge against the reactor’s thick glass wall as she rushed around it, then strung wires between each charge. The green uroplasm rotated slowly, while palm-sized white spheres floated within, releasing fractum into the mixture. The reaction between these two chemicals ensured enough power generation to run the station.
I glanced past our prisoner at display screens. Most showed data collected inside and outside the reactor, but two provided visuals of the transmitter hanging off the station’s boom. Fine details of the blue organic crystals were magnified for inspection purposes. Seeing them only boosted my resolve.
I spoke to Rione. “Are you ready yet?”
“Got it.” She slapped the last charge in place, mounting the timer box next to it and synchronizing to her sleeve’s timepiece. Then, the countdown started.
She turned to the technician. “I suggest you find an escape pod.”
At first, confusion reigned in his face. Then, Rione turned to a nearby console and slammed a large, red button. Klaxons outside changed to deep, long rhythmic tones accompanied by a booming female voice. “Core failure imminent! Proceed with station evacuation!”
His eyes grew wide. “What are you doing?”
“Saving as many people as I can. Evacuate!”
“Stop this madness!” He jumped toward the timer box, but she fired another round. He joined his comrade, their ash piles intermixing.
“Some people just don’t listen,” Rione said with a grunt. “Let’s go.”
She rushed out the hatch and weapons fire stuck the core’s outer shell. The shots caught her off-guard and she dropped the disintegrator cannon while tumbling past the railing. Her screams echoed throughout the chamber.
*****
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