Eclipse blackout book 5, p.12
Eclipse (Blackout Book 5), page 12
Just then, a clang echoed across the field. It came from the destroyed fleet, but Jackson ignored it. It didn’t mean anything. The hulks were settling under each other. That was all.
Then another bang cut the silence, followed by another. Metal ripped against metal, and a transport barge toppled off the pile. It rolled a few paces away to expose the Kalichi freighter.
The ship had suffered a major hull implosion in the crash that brought it down. Half its fuselage had been dented and torn open, but the other half appeared undamaged.
In front of Jackson’s eyes, a hatch opened in the aft end. A bunch of Silden waddled out. At the same moment, a pile of dirt disgorged from under one of the ruined Primals. It spilled into a molehill to reveal a tunnel under the heap.
A head poked out—an Urval head. Sharp, cutting eyes darted across the battlefield and locked on Jackson.
The next instant, Quort sprang out of the hole. A posse of Urvals followed him, along with several dozen Ghunu. They hauled up weapons and charged across the field.
The Krakzid instantly opened fire, but they couldn’t hit all the fighters pouring from every ship and derelict. Cannons and rifles burst to life.
At the same moment, a hole ripped in the fabric of space to Jackson’s right. It opened out of nothing. Through its aperture, Jackson stared at the ruins of the Urval capital.
He didn’t have long to stare before an army of Urvals charged through the portal. They inundated the battlefield, along with Gishki and Kanz running in their midst.
They spread out and hefted their weapons to join the fray. Bragg Abbas charged at the head of the mob. The full, flowing robes of his office billowed around him. Dulag ran at his side, with Ugon, Ogul, and their friends following them.
The sight of his father alive and fighting the good fight exhilarated Quort and his crew. They ran halfway down the field and halted to prop a giant cannon against the grass. They held it in place and blasted upward into the Krakzid horde. One of the battle craft exploded, and the other Krakzid went insane.
The Krakzid rocketed to their full speed and started hurtling around and around inside the dome. They moved so fast the defenders on the ground couldn’t hit them. Quort rotated his weapon from side to side, but the Krakzid gave him no target.
The Silden flooded the area carrying countless weapons, too, but they couldn’t make a dent in the Krakzid, either. Jackson ran over to Quort. He called out, “Get your—”
A massive concussion ripped the air from his lungs and stuffed the words down his throat. The explosion yanked him away from Quort. “Captain!” Quort bellowed.
Jackson flew across the field and slammed into the Kalichi. He felt his ribs crack and he collapsed to the ground, groaning. He fell sideways onto his left arm…and he felt it. A small hard lump stabbed him under the armpit. In all the danger and confusion, he had completely forgotten that he’d hidden it there.
He had absolutely nothing left to lose. One glance around the battlefield convinced him of that. All the offensive insurgents fought from the ground. The Krakzid remained airborne, where they could keep out of range and hit their targets from a distance.
He pulled out the small signaling device the Midus had given him. They might not even be on the planet anymore. They might have changed their minds about helping him, but it didn’t matter. He was finished either way.
The thing possessed no moving parts. A glass-like surface covered one side, with a matte finish enclosing the rest of the device. Jackson had no idea how to work it, but he could only try.
He pressed his thumb to the glassy surface. The thing instantly switched on and glowed green. How long would he have to wait for it to work, if it worked at all?
A whine of engine noise made him look up. That was fast.
A silver missile careened overhead. It skimmed past the battlefield and came racing up behind the Krakzid, but it wasn’t the Midus coming to Jackson’s rescue. In fact, it was only a single ship—the Blackout.
The Blackout dropped into a position directly behind the Krakzid horde. Its bombardment stack opened up and all its ports fired simultaneously. Who the hell was manning all those guns? No human being could fire that fast.
The Krakzid broke off pummeling the ground forces and spun around to assail the ship, but the Blackout stood firm. The ship swiveled this way and that as the Krakzid swarmed around it by the dozen. The Blackout didn’t have to fly anywhere. It stayed in one place and let the enemy come to it.
The fast-moving fighter modules zipped around behind the ship. They lambasted it from the back while the battle craft hammered it from in front. For at least a minute, the buffer guard protected the ship, but it couldn’t hold against this concentrated assault.
The Krakzid must have sensed that they outclassed this puny vessel. One ship against their numbers didn’t stand a chance. A few battle craft even ignored it and returned to targeting the insurgents on the ground. They popped off a laser here and there, in no particular hurry. The Krakzid could take all the time in the world to clean up what they started.
The bombardment stack spouted so many shots that the ship must be draining its fuel supplies way too fast. The Blackout almost kept up with the lasers coming from the Krakzid, but for how long?
Two fighter modules crossed each other behind the Blackout, plastering its flanks with lasers. Jackson started to follow their trails to see if the Blackout could hit them when a different craft blasted into view. This one was no black geometric module. It was a Skeeter.
The Skeeter dove into the Krakzid cloud, and it started firing at the same unbelievable speed. How was this possible? Even more astounding was the pinpoint accuracy of the gunners’ aim. Virtually every blast struck a Krakzid target. The Krakzids’ speed made no difference.
The Skeeter surprised the battle craft into reengaging. They paused their ground assault for the second time and turned all their attention on the Skeeter. The little vessel whizzed around them and between them, up and over and under them. It peppered their hulls, and still they couldn’t hit it.
The battle craft pivoted left and then right, trying to keep the Skeeter in their sights. When that failed, they returned to the nemesis right in front of them. Four battle craft fired in unison. They pounded the Blackout with dozens of lasers, all striking at once. The buffer guard fizzed and then blinked down. The ship was defenseless.
The Skeeter came circling back to take a position in front of the Blackout, but without its speed to protect it, it couldn’t defend itself, much less the Blackout, too.
The insurgents on the ground opened fire again. They thumped the battle craft from behind, but the Krakzid completely ignored them. They could swat these pests when they got good and ready.
The Blackout’s engines coughed. The Skeeter let loose another barrage of shots. One battle craft staggered. Its engines floundered and then, with an agonized shriek of twisting metal, it plummeted.
Jackson frowned. The Skeeter shouldn’t technically have been able to bring down such a large vessel, but at that moment, another flare dropped out of the sky. It hit a second battle craft, and that one collapsed as well.
Jackson jerked his head back. Only when he saw dozens—no, hundreds—of ships drifting down from above did he remember that he still had his thumb sealed to the signal device.
The Midus sank on top of the Krakzid and picked them off with calculated precision. The Krakzid did their best to return fire. Then they tried to evade. None of them stood before the Midus’ might.
The last few fighter craft rocketed in all directions, trying desperately to escape their doom. The Midus held their fire for a moment. They weren’t seriously going to let these Krakzid escape, were they?
The next volley came with such ferocity that Jackson jumped at the noise. A matrix of Midu ships fired simultaneously. They hit the obelisk, and it detonated to powder.
15
“Are you sure you have enough fuel to get back to Keter?” Jackson asked.
Lana cracked a grin. “We brought extra just in case.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d come back. I thought you might think better of taking one ship against the whole Krakzid invasion force.”
“Oh, we didn’t do it for you,” Liri chimed in. “We came to bring you back to Keter. The Krakzid will fall back to their bases on Keter, and we need you to help us finish them off there.”
“The good news,” Aitera added, “is that the Keter Legion isn’t a problem anymore. We put ‘em down.”
“You can tell us all about it on the trip back.” Roy winced when Liri tightened the bandage around his foot. “Do you mind? It hurts.”
“Be grateful it’s still attached. The laser could have amputated it, and then you’d be hobbling around like an old man.”
Roy bared his teeth at her. “You really need to work on your bedside manner, you know that?”
“I think I’ll skip it, since I don’t plan to became the next Brutield Vunhar.”
“Who’s that?” Aitera asked.
Liri gasped. “Are you seriously telling me that your creators didn’t include any Keter history in your programming? Brutield Vunhar is only the most famous nurse that ever lived. She single-handedly—”
“Tell us all about it later,” Jackson interrupted. “We have a plane to catch.”
The crew turned to the Blackout. The discharge ramp stood open, waiting for them to enter. Benedict lumbered over to Roy’s side and helped him up. He might not be as big as the others, but he thumped along in an upright posture like all adult Grocit now. He had matured overnight—or in the course of an afternoon, as it were.
Lana jutted her chin past Jackson’s shoulder. “Looks like this might be the parting of the ways.”
Jackson followed her gaze to what was left of the battlefield. The Urvals. The Silden. The Grocit. The Gishki. The Kanz. The Ghunu. The humans. Each group stood apart from all the others, even though they’d just fought together a few minutes before.
The Midus had landed their ships across the field, but they still hadn’t emerged. Jackson puffed out his cheeks. “I should go talk to them—thank them, at least.”
No one tried to stop him. No one argued, either. Jackson set off for the Midu contingent, but he didn’t relish the interview that awaited him. He dreaded that the Midus would suggest that they come with him to Keter, too. At the same time, he dreaded them leaving, in case the Krakzid rose again.
Who was he fooling? The offensive didn’t defeat the Krakzid. If anything, the Apra offensive only impressed on the Krakzid that they should bring out the big guns to eliminate this upstart rebellion. They would gather their remaining resources on Keter, and then they’d be a thousand times harder to defeat.
He approached the first Midu vessel he came to. He couldn’t tell these creatures apart, but he felt pretty certain it didn’t matter very much.
A porthole unscrewed in the ship’s side at his arrival. He stepped inside and entered a large hold full of the slobbering monsters he’d first encountered under the snow. Their flabby, bulbous bodies spilled across the floor, while goo and ooze seeped into drains beneath them.
Jackson didn’t see any controls, stations, or any other means to fly these ships, but something else demanded his attention more than that. Piles of black cocoons surrounded each of these grotesque monsters. Dead Krakzid lay in mounds within the Midus’ easy reach.
Crunching, slurping, and sucking noises filled the hold as the creatures plucked their victims off the piles and munched them from one end to the other. The Midus gobbled the cocoons one bite at a time until they consumed every last trace of the Krakzid.
Jackson’s stomach turned watching this. These creatures would eat absolutely anything. They rolled their single great eyes in delight at the delicacy they were enjoying.
Before he could react, one of the little shelled invertebrates scuttled out of somewhere. It scurried up to Jackson, waving its stalk appendages. “Krakzid,” it chirped.
“Uh…yeah. I can see you’re making yourselves at home with the leftovers.”
“Home.”
Jackson turned his attention from the hideous monstrosities to face the little creature. “You want to go home? I don’t see anybody stopping you. I’m very grateful for your help. You saved all our lives.”
“Zenith.”
Jackson pursed his lips. “I won’t be going back to Zenith for a while. The Krakzid are dug in pretty deep on Keter. They’ll only rebuild their strength there and attack Zenith again, if we don’t stop them. Besides, I owe it to my friends to help them free their world after the help they’ve given me.”
“Treaty.”
Jackson frowned. “You want to form a treaty—with Zenith? I thought you wanted to keep our meeting private. That’s what you said.”
“Friend.”
Jackson blinked at the little creature. Did he just hear right? He selected his next words with care. “Zenith would be very proud to call the Midus our friends. We’ve wanted to be friends with you for a long time, but we kept our distance out of respect for your privacy. We didn’t think you wanted to be friends.”
“Captain.”
Jackson blushed. “That’s very kind of you. I’m flattered. I tell you what. If you really want to be friends with Zenith, I’m sure we would love it if you made the first overture. I don’t think anyone in Zenith would feel comfortable initiating contact with your species. We respect your sovereignty too much.”
He also felt certain that the Zenith would be as horrified as he was to find out what the Midus were really like. The Zenith just might be horrified enough to balk at diplomatic relations.
He didn’t tell the creature that, though. If and when the Midus made diplomatic overtures to Zenith—which was debatable—someone a hell of a lot more qualified than Jackson would handle the negotiations. Jackson thanked his lucky stars for that.
The little one gestured toward its larger companions who chomped and chewed the dead Krakzid with relish. “Friend.”
An involuntary gag reflex seized Jackson throat. “Thank you, but humans don’t eat this kind of food. I’m sure you and your companions will find plenty to eat on this planet, now that the Krakzid are stranded.”
“Hungry.”
Jackson swallowed hard. He had to get out of here and fast. “Thank you again. I need to rejoin my crew. Please don’t hesitate to call on me if there’s anything I can do for you in return.”
He bowed from the waist and skedaddled without looking back. Maybe that was how the Midus conducted their relations with all alien races. They showed up on a planet and started eating everything in sight. Jackson wouldn’t be surprised.
For a second while he walked back to the Blackout, he had a sudden flash of what would happen if he took the Midus to Keter. The Midus would eat their way through the Krakzid invasion force. Then they would start on… Who would they select for their first course—the Silden? The Urvals?
Jackson shuddered and picked up his pace. He wanted to get as far away from the Midus as possible.
He hustled back to the discharge ramp. When he got there, he met Quort striding over from the crumpled Vurlax freighter. “Quort?”
“Captain.”
“That was some fancy fighting you did there,” Roy chimed in. “I always thought your head was too damn hard to get stove in that easily.”
Quort rounded on him with a snarl. “You were supposed to communicate with us. You stepped off the Blackout and vanished—not a word—not even once. What kind of an operative do you think you are?”
Roy stuck his hand in his pocket and handed over the communications device that Quort had given him before he left. “It doesn’t work. It worked fine on the ship, but once I got to the surface, it quit. I couldn’t very well communicate with you about that, could I?”
Quort snorted and turned away, just in time to spot his father coming toward them from a different group of Urvals. Bragg Abbas grinned at Jackson. “Captain. We meet again.”
“Not soon enough. I can see the reports of your death have been greatly exaggerated.”
Bragg laughed out loud. “Indeed. The call of living compelled me to endure a little longer, and I’m glad I did.” He turned to Quort and his expression became instantly serious. “I’m proud of you, Quort. You prosecuted this war with mastery and cunning.”
Quort stiffened. “I follow the orders of my captain and commander.”
“I’m sure you’ll be very happy to get your planet back,” Jackson replied. “Just don’t start fighting amongst yourselves over who’s going to be in charge.”
“You don’t think I’m staying here,” Quort boomed. “You don’t think I’m staying here to run the government in my father’s place.”
“Why not?” Jackson asked. “Isn’t that what you planned all along—to take over after him?”
“I will not be staying on Apra, or anywhere else in the Urval system. I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“I don’t understand you.” Jackson glanced back and forth between father and son. “We drove the Krakzid off your planet like we planned. We won. Now you should enjoy your victory with your family. You should be thrilled that your father is still alive, not planning to desert him again.”
“What we planned,” Quort intoned, “was for you and the Blackout crew to help liberate the Urval system from the Krakzid. After that, the Urvals were supposed to help you liberate Zenith from the Krakzid.”
“Yeah, but—”
“We haven’t liberated Zenith from the Krakzid. In fact, as I believe I heard you say more than once, the Krakzid will fall back to Keter and use that planet to make further campaigns into Zenith.”
“Yeah, I did say that, but—”
“So it follows,” Quort went on, “that they would make further campaigns into Urval space, too. Therefore, by your own logic, the best way to secure Urval space from future Krakzid incursions would be to cut them off at Keter.”
“You are not seriously planning to come with us,” Roy groaned. “Do you have to?”
