Rebel's Quest (39 page)

“Nothing for the last minute, Admiral. But it’s probably just sensor disturbance.”

Damn!
“Keep trying.” Icicles traveled from her chest to her hands, and Jacelon hid them as she folded her arms tightly. “Let me know when we’re in position. D’Artansis and O’Dal had better be away from that mess by then.”
I have no choice. I have to stick to the plan or risk all of our lives.

“Yes, ma’am.”

As the smaller Onotharian ships followed their lead vessel against Paladin’s small freighters, the SC assault craft circled the enemy and approached from behind.

“Paladin to Jacelon. We’re in position and can’t wait any longer. I saw what happened to the commander.” Paladin’s voice was pained, and Jacelon knew she had to be completely devastated at the thought of losing their Protector just after they’d rediscovered her.

“I know. Stick to the plan, Paladin.” Sounding brusque, she gave the orders that might kill the woman she loved more than life. “All hands, this is Admiral Jacelon. Commence Operation Space Storm.”

A chorus of scattered voices confirmed her orders over the comm channels. Jacelon couldn’t make herself sit down in the command chair; instead she gripped the metal bar in front of it and stared with burning eyes at the screen. The assault craft moved in closer, firing relentlessly at the same target. “Take us in, Lieutenant,” she ordered the young man at the helm.

“Aye, ma’am.”

“Commander Grey, prepare to fire on my mark.”

“Ready, Admiral.” Owena sounded emotionless, yet she had to be frantic, wondering where Leanne was. “Torpedoes and plasma-pulse chargers set to launch.”

Jacelon calculated the seconds while glaring at the fierce battle on the screen. “Mark. Fire at will.”

“Firing torpedoes. Now. Firing plasma-pulse charges. Now.” Owena seemed totally professional.

The torpedoes raced toward the ships in the middle of the battle. The assault craft were now a short distance behind the center of the fight, which suited Jacelon fine.
That’s right. Stay away, people.

The impact of the weapons’ array was beyond expectations. The space around the
Gallant
lit up in a blinding cascade of burning debris, which quickly turned into armor-piercing missiles heading their way.

“Report! Did we get them?” Jacelon called out, clutching the bar with ice-cold hands.

The ops ensign pulled herself back to her console with both arms. “Yes, the Onotharian ships are dead in the water, Admiral. What’s left of them.”

Jacelon slowly raised her head to the view screen, saw assault craft scurry to return to the
Gallant
, and hoped all were accounted for. Like blackened skeletons, scorched debris drifted in space between them and the incapacitated enemy ships. Jacelon didn’t have to ask about Paladin’s four freighters; they had been completely destroyed.

“Come on, Kellen! Breathe!”

The voice, familiar, yet different in its intensity, hovered above Kellen, floating, fading, only to grow stronger. Small puffs of air gushed against her cheek.

“Open your eyes and take a deep breath.”

A rubbery material covered Kellen’s face, startling her enough that she opened her eyes. Masses of red-blond hair framed a pale face with dark green eyes.

“Leanne…” Kellen coughed into the oxygen mask. “Where are we?”

“On the backside of a small asteroid. I knew the blast would be bad, so it was my only option. I pulled you through the port airlock and dashed over here as fast as I could. You were pretty blue, I mean, bluer than usual, for a moment.”

“You saved my life.” Kellen sat up, drawing deep, cleansing breaths into the mask. She needed to get back in shape quickly.

Leanne shrugged and grinned. “Hey, I wouldn’t want to face the Admiral if I hadn’t.”

“Do we have a comm channel?”

“Nope. The debris from the explosion is scattered all over the area, and I can’t get through the static.” Her face grew serious, and a shade paler. “Can you believe it, all those ships? Nothing’s left of them.”

Kellen nodded. “I know. But we didn’t have much choice.”

“True.” Leanne sighed. “Well, if you’re able to move, you can either pilot this thing or squeeze in behind the navigator.”

Kellen grimaced at the thought of curling up in the small storage area, intended to hold med kits and survival gear, and glanced meaningfully at Leanne’s small frame.

“I knew it,” Leanne sighed, her eyes regaining their twinkle. “I’m about to get smashed.”

“It’ll only be for a minute, until we’re back aboard the
Gallant
.”

“Famous last words,” Leanne muttered good-naturedly, and moved up through the small hatch, yelling to the navigator, “Hey, scoot over. I’m going into the back. Commander O’Dal’s taking the pilot’s seat.”

Kellen couldn’t hear what the navigator said, but entered the hatch as well and squeezed into the seat. As she adjusted it and its harness, she wasn’t surprised that her hands trembled. The adrenalin rush from being alive had begun to fade when Kellen remembered the last thing she’d thought of before everything went black; countless images of Rae and a deep sorrow for leaving her, hurting her, lingered. She needed to get back to the
Gallant
quickly for more than one reason, but primarily she wanted to make sure Rae knew she was alive.

She completed the ignition sequence in record time, and the navigator seemed inspired by her urgency. Soon they sped in an intricate path between the asteroids. Kellen knew the danger wasn’t over; the enemy could have more ships hidden, just waiting for a chance to attack.

They entered the area that had so recently been lit by multicolored streaks from the many weapons and was now a dead field of debris with only four visible assault craft, which seemed to be examining the wreckage. Kellen’s head snapped up. Were they looking for her?

The computer couldn’t identify the pilots in the small vessels, but Kellen tried the comm channels, hoping to get through. “O’Dal to SC assault craft. Do you read me?” She heard only static. “I have to get closer,” she muttered, and piloted her ship in a low, wide angle that took them straight up to the starboard side of the nearest craft. It was dangerous to fly this close to someone among that much space rubble, but Kellen needed to make eye contact. The pilot, whom she thought she recognized as one of the two Imidestrian women, looked out the small right-hand window, her eyes huge. She pointed at Kellen and made an inquiring gesture with her arms and shoulders pushed up.

Kellen replied with one thumb up, an ancient Earth gesture that actually made sense to her. When the Imidestrian woman smiled brightly and looked relieved, Kellen drew a circle in the air in front of her and pointed at the other three vessels near them, gesturing for them to return to the
Gallant
together. The other woman nodded eagerly, and Kellen guessed she wasn’t all that thrilled to be among the debris of the destroyed ships. Half of the junk floating aimlessly around them came from Paladin’s shattered freighters, after all.

Like five arrows, the assault craft sped toward the convoy, which was barely visible and about to enter low orbit above Gantharat’s atmosphere.

*

Rae trudged to the
Gallant’s
main docking port, but she doubted that her dejection was visible to her crew. They still tiptoed around her, not meeting her eyes, since they knew Kellen and Leanne were missing. This meant that her crew also feared Owena, who dared anyone to pity her by hurling her steely, ice blue glare at anyone who tried.

It was impossible to reach the four pilots Rae had left behind to search the debris. She would’ve preferred to do it herself, to let the
Gallant
remain behind and scan every single grain of space dust. However, the surviving ex-prisoners needed to return planet-side. Now Rae had docked with the
Iktysos
and was about to meet Paladin. The remaining freighters had linked with each other and the
Iktysos
in a chain formation, which would make any potential transfers easy.

The door slid open to the airlock and Rae saw Paladin, with O’Daybo by her side. “Admiral, Rae,” Paladin said, and merely stood there, studying Rae with warm, worried eyes, so blue, so like Kellen’s. “Have you heard anything yet?”

“Nothing.” Her throat hurt when she spoke, but Rae geared herself to do things by the book, as always. “How are your survivors faring?”

“Not too bad, considering they have to sit on the floor in the cargo space, and we don’t have enough blankets. They’re taking everything in stride, though, and my comrades have informed them that it’s only a matter of hours. We’re going to need your marines again. All according to…the Protector’s plan.”

“Yes, I know. They’ve had some rest and food, and they’re ready to deploy to your vessels. Not counting the wounded, of course, I can offer you some fifty marines for each of your five ships.” Rae sighed. “Speaking of ships. I’m sorry about your freighters. They were fine vessels—”

“But we saved even finer people,” Paladin filled in. “Who knew the remote controls we installed four lunar-years ago would come in handy in a situation like that? But it took the skill of some of your pilots.”

Rae’s pilots had sat in the
Iktysos’s
engineering bay, steering the four freighters, whose only cargo consisted of massive explosives, by remote control toward the Onotharian ships. Firing her torpedoes against the vessels hadn’t been easy for Rae. It was, however, worth the destruction of a thousand ships to save thousands of rebels. She turned to the tall man behind her. “Major Egordash, deploy your teams.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted and issued orders for the marines under his command to begin moving into position inside the docked ships.

“I’m glad we could help,” Rae managed. “I—”

“Senior staff to the bridge. Senior staff to the bridge.”

Rae flinched and began to run, and heard Paladin and Andreia follow. The red-alert alarms were quiet, which meant the Onotharians weren’t on top of them yet. They had a window of opportunity before the Onotharians planet-side realized what kind of defeat they had just suffered.

Rushing onto the bridge, ignoring the smart “Admiral on the bridge” from the closest ensign, Rae encountered a dark-eyed Owena. “We have five incoming assault craft,” she informed the stunned Rae. “There’s no way to communicate with them because they’re too polluted by radiation from one of the Onotharian ships. They’ll have to go through decontamination procedures before they can enter our shuttle bay.”

Rae wanted to tell Owena to screw the decontamination procedure, but she knew it was vital for everyone who might come in contact with the hull of the small vessels. “Hurry up, then.”

“Already on it.”

God. How hard it is to wonder who’s in those ships? Chances are good that Leanne made it…but…
Rae felt herself sway slightly, and only the gentle pressure of a palm against the small of her back made her able to square her shoulders. She glanced quickly behind her and saw the kind glow from O’Daybo’s eyes.

Rae merely nodded and stared at the images provided by the short-range hull sensors. Automatically a sanitizing force field appeared in the shuttle bay opening. Inside of it, long metal hoses sprayed a misty substance over the assault craft, one after the other. Only when they were all treated would the inner shuttle bay doors open.

“I can’t just wait here,” Owena muttered. “Permission to leave the bridge, ma’am?”

“You and me both,” Rae said huskily. “Lieutenant,” she said to the man by the helm, who had the highest rank of the remaining senior crew. “You have the conn. Stay alert and page me if anything’s amiss. Anything at all.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

Owena was already halfway to the elevator, and Rae, with Paladin and O’Daybo, barely entered behind her before the door closed. They rode in silence to the shuttle bay corridor and hurried toward the entrance, where they saw the last of the assault craft descend and power down.

Stopping just inside the door, Rae pressed a hand against her chest, knowing full well she didn’t look like the together and collected admiral she was supposed to embody for the crew. She scanned the hatches of the ships that opened one after the other, producing people in flight suits, and tried to recognize them from how they walked, but they were all stiff and rigid from more than eight hours in the narrow seats.

A pilot emerging from the closest ship stood still just outside the hatch, gazing around the shuttle bay while unfastening her helmet. Long, blond hair flowed, floated a bit from static electricity, and landed on strong shoulders. The pilot’s eyes, shimmering blue even at this distance, locked onto Rae, whose knees were about to give. “Kellen…” she whispered, her voice broken.

Kellen ran up to Rae and grabbed her with strong arms. Apparently not caring about creating a public display, she pulled Rae to her and buried her face in her neck.

“You.” Rae could barely speak. “You. Did it. To me. Again. You—”

“I’m sorry.” Kellen interrupted the pained words. “I’m sorry, Rae. I never meant to worry you that way again. I’m so sorry.” Soft words spoken directly into Rae’s ear.