Desperate Times (Lost Planet Warriors Book 1) (2 page)

“
H
oly shit
,” Kara said as the scans cleared.

Our ship’s database - one tech present gifted to us by the Trigellians - said that the enormous vessel that had just popped into real space in front of us was a Cymtarran battle cruiser. It was bigger than anything Earth had ever put in space. Including our orbiting space station. The thing was larger than most interstellar freighters. And according to the database it was bristling with enough weaponry to decimate a world.

“You can said that again,” I muttered.

“Holy shit,” Kara intoned, deadpan.

I hid a smile. She was incorrigible.

“Are the weapons hot?” I asked.

“Yes, but…”

“Good,” I said. I clicked open my console and took over manual targeting. There weren’t too many reasons why that ship would be out there. Most of them were double-plus not good. “I want a constant beam of all our data back to Earth.”

“Already done,” Kara said. “Kim, you’re targeting them.”

“Yup.”

“They might see that as hostile…?”

I grunted a response, and she shrugged. If they fired on us we might get one good volley off. I wanted our guns - weak though they were - targeted somewhere that they might do at least a little damage. If we could weaken them, it might save the planet.

“What the hell is that?” More bridge crew was arriving. That was Tim, standing in the doorway staring at the main screen.

“Bad news,” I said. “Grab a console and see if you can get them talking to us.”

“R…right.”

The truth was, Earth was incredibly vulnerable. We were on the very bottom of the tech side of things, when it came to star-faring races. There were scores of warlike races out there who would be happy to scoop us up. The Kyrelians had already tried. Others would surely follow. Earth wasn’t defenseless, but against a ship like this it might as well be.

My targeting computer was running a detailed scan, and I was seeing damage. A lot of damage. This ship had been through a crucible. Recently too, from the looks of it. They’d taken some bad hits. I was amazed that the thing was still flying at all. If my ship was torn up that badly, we’d be toast. That gave me some heart. A damaged opponent was a very different story from a fully operational one. Oh, they could still blow us to atoms in an instant. But my one shot might do them more damage than I’d thought. My computer system identified a weak point in their power relays. One good hit there, and they’d lose power.

Of course, if they were that badly damaged, maybe they weren’t here to pick a fight in the first place. One could hope. I didn’t change my target.

“Any communication back from them?” I asked.

“I’m trying, they’re not responding,” Tim replied.

What did I know about the Cymtarrans? I scanned the database entry. Their empire was halfway across the Milky Way. This ship was a long way from home. They had conquered over a dozen other races, and had a number of colony worlds as well. The database seemed to be at odds with itself, alternately mentioning them as fierce, warlike conquerers and fair, even-handed protectors of the peace. It felt like I was reading Yelp reviews, which probably wasn’t far off the mark. I wasn’t going to get better information until I spoke with them directly.

“OK, Tim,” I said. If they were a fierce but fair race, maybe I could get through to them by being fierce and fair? “Send them this message.”

“Recording,” Tim said.

“Intruding ship. This is Captain Kimberly Kenson of the starship UNS Ariel. You have entered Terran space with an armed ship. Stand down your weapon systems and state your purpose for being here, or we will open fire on your vessel.”

Kara and Tim were both staring at me like I’d grown a second head.

“Send it,” I growled. This was no time to hesitate. We needed to act.

“Sending,” Tim said. He sounded like he was debating whether I’d lost my sanity or not to himself. But he followed the order. Frankly, I wasn’t sure if I’d lost my wits myself. I was following my gut here, and I just had to hope I was right for all our sakes.

There was no immediate response. Which was both good and bad. They had us targeted with every weapon on their ship, but at least they hadn’t blown us to bits yet for my temerity. That was something. I was sweating with the effort of keeping my face impassive. How long were they going to make us sit here?

“Incoming message with video,” Tim said.

“Put it on screen,” I replied automatically.

The main screen flashed, the battle cruiser disappearing to be replaced by what had to be a Cymtarran. None of us had ever seen one before. I sucked in my breath a little. The figure on the screen looked a lot like a human male - if you discounted the slanted, catlike eyes, pointed ears, and the greenish bronze tinge to his skin. He had long hair that tumbled over his shoulders in a cascade of strawberry blonde. He was dressed in what had to be a military uniform. All I could see of him was from the waist up, where he wore a black tunic with crisp edges and silver piping.

He looked vaguely like something out of a Lord of the Rings film. And not like one of the orcs.

“I am Commander Bran,” he said, speaking in Galactic. My knowledge of the language was pretty good. You had to have a good understanding before you were allowed into space, let alone placed in command of a ship. Galactic was a universal language that the major spacefaring races had created together to allow for better communication for trade and diplomacy. “You will cease your weapon targeting.”

“Right after you turn off yours,” I said.

His eyebrows rose. “Our weapons would demolish you in a microsecond. You have no chance here. Stand down.”

I stared into those sea-green eyes of his, looking for clues about his thoughts. Was his body language anything like that of humans? Because if I was right, he was bluffing. I called. “Not before my weapons blast your power systems to bits. I don’t think that’s what you want, is it?”

His eyes narrowed, his lips becoming a thin line. Then abruptly he turned and barked an order in some other language over his shoulder. This was it, then. We were about to be blasted to bits by a plasma beam. I had the computer ready to fire the instant they did. Then I heard Kara gasp.

“They’ve stopped targeting us,” Kara said.

I managed not to heave a sigh of relief, keeping my face stern instead. Fierce and fair had worked so far. I was going to stick to it.

“A gesture of good faith,” the Cymtarran said.

“Kara, turn off our guns,” I ordered.

There was a moment of pause, and then I saw the Cymtarran nod. “That was a tense moment. I am glad we did not have to destroy you.”

So was I, but I wasn’t going to say that out loud. “And I am glad we did not have to fire on you as well. I must ask your purpose here.”

“This might be a better discussion in person,” he said. “You are captain of your ship?”

I nodded.

“I invite you aboard mine for a conference. A shuttle will arrive shortly to pick you up.”

Then he cut off the link, without even asking if I was willing to come.

"You can't go," Kara said.

"I have no choice," I replied. "Kara, you have command until I return."

If I returned. I tried not to shiver at the thought. But there really was no alternative that wasn't going to end with us blown to bits. They still had most of the cards, and their commander knew it.

I
decided
I would honor our new guest by meeting the shuttle as it returned to my ship. From the reports the crew sent, there were no difficulties picking her up. I went to the docking bay as they arrived.

Repairs had been proceeding apace. There were some problems with the repairs in one section near the engines. A spot where the crew swore they had already completed the work that was found to be torn apart. I had Carrick looking into the matter. If the repair crew had slacked off, bad enough. If they'd actually falsified the report of completing their work, though..! Goddess knew what we would do if discipline fell apart that badly, and so fast.

It didn't seem like my crew to do such things, but then they'd never been under such duress before either. What might make even the best soldier crack? Carrick would get me the answers I needed.

I returned my attention to the incoming shuttle as it settled into the landing pad. My ship - Nova Song - had six such vessels on board. Each could carry a squad of marines into battle. Or one Terran commander aboard my ship.

The Terran left the shuttle with four of my men. My people had taken up positions alongside our guest - I was still hoping that this person would be a guest, and not a prisoner, but I was willing to use the Terran as a hostage to help me get what I needed if necessary.

My guest was glancing around, taking in the sights. The shuttle bay was a large space. Its interior was almost as large as the entire Terran ship drifting in space nearby. There was a lot to gawk at. I smiled, remembering the first time I'd been aboard a cruiser like this one. I hadn't time to gawk. I was too busy being fresh meat for the senior officers to whip into shape.

The Terran seemed to settle down and gazed across the bay at me. All sense of being lost vanished in an instant, and the Terran marched directly toward me. My men had to rush to catch up. I smiled a little, approving. When on death ground, fight. They knew they were in trouble, but were doing their best to keep up the appearance of strength.

"You are Commander Bran?" the Terran asked in fluid Galactic.

This time it was my turn to stare for a moment. Their captain was female. She was dressed in trousers, her hair cut short around her ears, so I hadn't noticed at first. But she was definitely, undeniably female. What sort of race would send their child-bearers onto warships? But this woman was not only an officer on their ship. She commanded it. Either utter madness, or this was a being to watch carefully.

"I am," I replied, recovering swiftly from my surprise. "And you are Kimberly Kenson?"

"Yes," she said. She flashed her teeth. "My friends call me Kim?"

"Kim." I tried the name out. It felt familiar, not too unlike many of our own names.

"We're not friends," she said.

I canted my head forward in acknowledgement. "But I hope that perhaps we can be. Follow me, please?"

I led the way down a set of halls. They twisted and turned enough that I knew Kenson would be lost in no time. My crew and I knew these decks blindfolded, but they were designed to confuse intruders. It was important that she be overawed, and that I not reveal the smallest shred of our precarious position. I was unused to being in the position of needing something from someone else more than they wanted something from me. Our ship would never be able to return to maximum capabilities without the raw materials that we could only get from an inhabited world.

This had to be a good show. I would need to send her back to her people with tales of how powerful we were, not how broken. The
Nova Song
had a meeting room specially set aside for high diplomatic events, visitors of stature who must be impressed by the Cymtarran Empire’s wealth and might. I brought her to that room. The door opened at my touch, and I ushered her in.

It wasn’t opulent, not by Imperial standards. The room was well appointed, with a massive wooden table dominating the center, and expensively carved chairs set around it. That table had come from Cymtarra itself, and I felt again the pang of loss when I saw it. There would never be another Brightwood tree giving up its heartwood for such a work of art. The trees were gone, and the artists all dead.

I pushed away such thoughts, observing my guest instead. She paused in the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene. Then she glided forward, every step graceful. I watched her move with interest. She crossed the space to the table then ran her fingers over the polished surface and traced the carving gently with her nails.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

Why did her obvious pleasure in the work of art in turn please me? Cymtarra might be gone, I reminded myself, but some of her legacy remained. While such things existed, we would be remembered as long as they were appreciated. Being able to take joy in beauty was the mark of a civilized race, and it gave me hope for our talks.

“Sit,” I said. She hesitated a moment, then selected one of the chairs for herself. I picked up a decanter and poured two glasses, one for each of us. I handed one to her and took my own seat across the table from the Terran. She was staring dubiously down at the cup I’d handed her.

“It’s water,” I said. “Filtered and pure. I would need to scan your biology before offering any other refreshment, to be sure what we have aboard is compatible with your physiology.”

“Thank you,” she said, and took a sip. She placed the cup down again.

Hospitality offered, and accepted. We could begin talks in earnest now, and I could see she was ready to do the same.

“Why are you here in Terran space?” she asked.

Lady, she was direct. I appreciated that. It spoke of a military nature. Something I probably should have expected from another ship commander, even one so small. The Terrans likely had very few ships. This woman might be one of their best and brightest commanders, despite her being female. I would need to be cautious in my dealings with her.

I
bit
the inside of my cheek, trying to remember to keep my cool. It was one thing to be blunt, and another to pick a fight there was no way we could win. If nothing else, my little trip to the Cymtarran warship had convinced me that even damaged as it was, my little ship wasn't going to win a fight against it.

Everything about this ship was something out of a story. The guards who'd brought me aboard were tall, silent, and exuded an air of deadly force under the barest of restraint. The golden armor they wore gave them an unearthly air with its spiraling patterns. Like it was gilded with real gold and hammered into a work of art by a master.

Then the ship itself! I'd never seen so much space opened up inside a moving object in space as I had in that hangar. The Ariel could almost have fit inside it. Light seemed to come from everywhere, illumination springing from every surface in an even glow that cast no shadows. It was bright enough that I thought it should have hurt my eyes, but somehow it didn't.

Seeing Commander Bran in the flesh was even more distracting than the hangar. He wore the same armor as his men. Gold colored, but the stuff couldn't be actual gold, could it? It looked like it was designed for combat, so it had to be tougher than a soft metal would allow. The armor hugged the alien's curves in a way that was...more then a little head turning. He was tall, with skin that had a slight golden cast and hair that was a deep reddish brown falling to brush his shoulders. His ears were slightly extended, pointing up at the tips. His eyes were slanted, looking more feline than human. I could see his muscles rippling through the thin scales of the armor as he moved. Lots of muscles. He moved with the same catlike grace and violent intent as his men.

The passages were lit in the same manner, and for a few moments it threw me off as I tried vainly to see how the lighting worked. It was the third seemingly random turn at another intersection that caught my attention again. He was leading me around in what felt like a circuitous path. Why? What did he have to gain from taking extra twists and turns through his ship?

Unless he meant to misdirect me, to get me lost. If that was what he was up to, he was sorely mistaken. I had a damned good memory. I put it to work, memorizing each turn as we made it. If it came down to a fast exit, I could make my way back to the hangar easily enough. And then those shuttles - how hard could it be to figure out piloting an alien ship driven by alien technology, anyway?

I just had to hope things didn't come to that. So far they'd seemed gracious and hospitable.

Then he handed me water. I wasn't sure what to make of that, but I was worried he might be offended, so I drank a sip. It was cool without being cold, and tasted clean enough. If I died from some alien plague I was gonna be really mad at myself.

OK, I was scared. The only thing I could think of doing was biting back a little, so I asked him what his people were doing here.

He laughed.

"We were in a fight," he said.

That much was obvious. "I saw the battle damage on my scans," I said. "It looks like you got hammered."

He stiffened at that, and I wondered for a moment if I'd gone too far. "It was a brutal battle," he said. Then he seemed to lose the conversation for a moment, staring off to one side. It wasn't long - a second, maybe two or three. But it was long enough that I noticed. There was clearly something he wasn't telling me. Something that bothered even Bran in his powerful ship.

"We need repairs," he said, bringing his focus back to me. "We can attain those sooner by working with a planet that has good industrial capacity."

"And Earth just happened to be the closest world?" I asked.

"No," he replied. "But yours was the nearest world that met our needs."

What needs? He was being annoyingly cryptic. Definitely hiding something. It didn't make sense, didn't add up right. If they were out to conquer Earth, they'd have come at us with a lot more than one banged up ship. What if these guys were some sort of renegades, on the run from their Empire? The idea had merit.

"I can't authorize that sort of aid myself," I said.

"It wouldn't be aid," he said, drawing himself up. Straight spine, pride practically shouting in his posture. These Cymtarrans' body language was not too different from ours. "We will pay you for goods and services while we are here."

"I can escort you into the system, then," I said. Wonder if I was going to lose my job over this? I wasn't entirely sure I cared, either. Maybe these guys were hiring. I'd certainly see more of the galaxy flying along with them!

The console in the center of the table chirped. Bran reached out and tapped it. It seemed like a basic intercom system.

"Commander, sorry to interrupt," said the voice from the intercom.

"You're not interrupting, Carrick," Bran replied. "What news?"

"The damage is strange, sir. It's possible we have an incursion."

"What?" Bran seemed alarmed. I wasn't sure what an incursion meant, but it sounded bad. "Call for guard units..."

"Already done, sir. I'll oversee the search personally and-"

The link went dead in mid-sentence.

A moment later the lighting shifted from the ever present gold tone to a dull red, and a bell began tolling from someplace.

"Ftagh," Bran said under his breath. I was betting that wasn't a nice word.

"What's going on?" I asked him as he stood and turned for the door.

He whirled back toward me. "It's danger, that's what. Stay here. You'll be safe here."

Then he was gone, dashing out the door, which snapped shut again behind him.

My breaths were coming a little fast. By all rights I ought to sit tight and stay here. He said I would be safe here. He could be wrong, but this was his ship. He likely knew better than me where I would be most secure from whatever was going on.

Of course, they could be all abandoning me and running for lifeboats right now. But I didn't think so. Bran didn't seem like the type to leave anyone behind. I trusted my first impressions of people, and of aliens.

Given all that, why was I getting up and making my way to the door? Why was I peeking outside, after the door snapped open at my touch? Because something was going on out there. My guess was there was some sort of fight, maybe crew of this ship repelling some sort of boarding party that had snuck aboard during the battle.

Which meant I might be able to get answers about what the hell was really going on. If I had the guts to run down the hall toward the danger, instead of staying put.

"Shit," I said. "I was never especially good at letting men boss me around anyway."

The lights were flashing a little, like a red heartbeat. The feeling was a little nauseating, and I swallowed hard to calm my stomach. Then I headed down the hall in the direction I was pretty sure Bran had gone, hoping I wasn't going to get too lost before I ran into someone.