Chapter 20 #2
“Massive energy impact portside!” Brask yelled over the din, wrestling with his flickering displays.
“Shield emitters overloaded! Hull breach: decks seven through nine! Containment fields holding for now!” His console spat another shower of sparks.
“No signature! Sensors are blind! It came out of nowhere!”
“Nowhere?”
Rage, cold and sharp, cut through the initial shock. This was supposed to be his ambush. Someone had turned the tables.
“Evasive maneuvers, James! Now! Full random pattern! Find me that bastard!”
“Trying, Captain!” James’s voice was tight with strain as she wrestled the controls.
The Star Shrike shuddered, engines groaning as she veered sharply starboard, then dropped precipitously. Another blast rocked the ship, this time from above, slamming them downward. More consoles erupted in sparks. A crewman screamed as his station exploded, hurling him backwards.
“Shields failing!” Voss bellowed from the tactical station, his face illuminated by the frantic dance of damage reports scrolling across his screen. “Weapons offline! Targeting sensors are scrambled! We’re flying blind!”
“Engineering!” Nick barked into the comm. “Status on the jump-drive? We need to get the hell out of here!”
“Jump-drive took a hit, Captain!” the chief engineer’s voice crackled back, thick with static and panic. “Coolant leak in the primary initiator! Attempting bypass, but we can’t spool it hot! We’re stuck!”
Trapped. Blind. Taking fire from an enemy they couldn’t see. The cold fury in Corso’s gut ignited into a white-hot inferno. This was impossible. Unacceptable.
Who the fuck had the balls and the tech to hit him like this? COPS? Unlikely – they’d be broadcasting demands by now. Rivals? No way. No pirate ship had stealth tech.
That meant government ship.
Shit, someone knew. News of Maltese’s fuckup had made it to Babcinq. And the client was cleaning up the mess.
Another impact, closer this time. The bridge lights died completely, plunging them into the strobing hell of emergency lights and sparking consoles. The deck tilted at a sickening angle. Nick heard the terrifying groan of stressed bulkheads. They were being carved apart.
“Brask! Sensors! Anything!” he demanded, his voice raw.
He had to see his enemy. Had to know who he was killing.
“Still negative, Captain! They’re running dark! No emissions, no—” Brask suddenly froze, staring intently at his one functioning display. “Wait, energy bleed! Minimal, almost masked by our own damage. Starboard quarter, high! It’s … it’s small. Very small. Running silent, but not perfectly!”
A target. Finally. A sliver of hope amidst the chaos. It didn’t matter who they were now. All that mattered was hitting back.
“Voss! Lock onto that energy bleed! Everything we’ve got left! Pour it on!”
“Aye! Got a shaky lock!” Voss’s fingers flew over his console, rerouting power. “Forward plasma cannons charged! Firing!”
The Star Shrike shuddered again, not from an impact, but from the recoil of her own unleashed fury.
Bolts of incandescent blue plasma streaked into the void, converging on the faint energy signature Brask had pinpointed.
For a heart-stopping second, nothing happened.
Then, a bloom of light erupted against the dark.
“Hit! Glancing blow!” Voss reported. “They’re breaking silent running! Adjusting course! Shields flaring!”
On the tactical display, a new, smaller icon flickered into existence – the matte-black dagger shape of a ship, momentarily visible as its damaged systems struggled to maintain stealth. It was pulling away, turning sharply.
“Drive status, Engineering!” Nick bellowed.
“Bypass holding! We’ve got a window, Captain! Small one! Jump-drive spooling at ninety percent!”
“James! Get us out of here! Jump! Now! Anywhere!” he ordered, the words tearing from his throat. He didn’t care about coordinates, about the nebula fringe, about Díaz. Survival was the only objective now.
“Jump sequence initiating!” James yelled, slamming her hand down on the control.
The straining whine of the jump-drive rose to a deafening shriek, vibrating the entire ship. A rift opened outside.
The last thing Nick saw before the swirling chaos of hyperspace enveloped them was that other vessel, already turning back, its weapons glowing ominously as it prepared for another salvo that would find only empty space. They’d escaped. Barely.
The transition smoothed out. The horrific sounds of battle, the groans of the wounded ship, the blaring alarms – all cut off, replaced by the eerie, pink silence of hyperspace.
The bridge was a tableau of destruction – smoke hazing the air, consoles dark or flickering, crew members bleeding, slumped at their stations. The coppery tang of blood mixed with the acrid stench of burned wiring.
Nick slowly released the death grip he had on his armrests.
He took a deep, shuddering breath, the adrenaline crash leaving him feeling hollowed out and shaking.
He looked around at the damage, at his wounded ship, at the stunned faces of his crew.
Rage, cold and utterly consuming, began to fill the void.
This humiliation, this near-destruction, wasn’t random. It wasn’t bad luck. It was her fault. That interfering, stubborn bitch, Carmen Díaz.
He pushed himself out of the command chair, his boots crunching on broken glass. He walked to the cracked viewscreen, staring out at the swirling, meaningless colors. His reflection stared back – pale, smeared with soot, eyes burning with pure, undiluted hatred.
The cold fury in his gut solidified into a diamond-hard core of vengeance. The hunt for the XenX had just become infinitely more personal.