Epic: Book 03 - Hero (61 page)

Back in the Battleship, Scott and Esther were closing in on Papanov’s trapped team, leaving a handful of dead Bakma behind in a trek with surprisingly little resistance.

“
Lieutenant Papanov,” Scott said through the comm, “we should be coming up on you right now. Stand by for contact.”

“
Standing by.”

Rounding a final corner, Scott and Esther found the trapped team. Papanov and his injured commander were hunkered down in what looked like a security checkpoint—a square room that served as a joint for an otherwise straight hallway. Several dead soldiers were sprawled around them.

Papanov was in no position to greet them. He was in the middle of an exchange with a Ceratopian down the hall. Scott joined in the effort, while Esther checked on the injured commander.

“
There could be Bakma coming behind us any minute,” Scott said. “We circled around some, and there are still Noboats outside.” It was unrealistic to think that Travis was watching their backs—the
Pariah
wasn’t a fighter, and it was being torn in numerous directions. Bakma could have been storming behind them as they spoke.

Papanov looked at Scott for the first time. When he saw Scott’s golden horns, he arched an eyebrow behind his blue-tinted EDEN visor. “Are you a new kind of fulcrum?”

For a moment, Scott had forgotten about his personalized armor. The battle was the only thing on his mind. “Something like that.”

“
I know a way out of here,” said Esther. “There’s an exit to the roof from the third level.”

“
The
third
level?” Scott asked. “Do you have any idea how many Ceratopians are between us and the third level?”

“
If you go
my
route, not very many.”

Scott stopped firing. He turned around to face his British scout. “Was that a 300 course, too?”

She leered back.

Scott resumed the gunfight. “All right, Brooking. Third level, it is.”

Esther picked up an extra pistol from one of the dead soldiers. She now held a gun in each hand. “The Golathoch are brave, but they’re not stupid. If I’m right, they’ve—”

“
The
what
?” Scott asked.

“
The Golathoch. Did you really think they call themselves
Ceratopians
?” She went on. “If I’m right, they’ve mustered in one of two places: the stalls with the animals, or the bridge. The stalls are on this level. The bridge is on deck three—where we’ve got to go.”

Papanov felled the Ceratopian in the hall.

“
So how do we get to deck three?” asked Scott.

“
If we can backtrack thirty meters, we’ll hit a maintenance shaft. We can take it all the way up.”

Scott grabbed some clips from the soldiers beneath him. “Let’s go. Papanov, help your commander to his feet.”

“
Wait!” the injured commander shouted. He looked up at Papanov from the floor. “The slayer.”

Scott arched an eyebrow. “The
slayer
?”

Papanov sighed. “We had two Nightmen in our unit. One of them is dead. Commander Ozerov sent the other ahead, but he got cut off from behind. He is surrounded by the Ceratopians alone.”

“
I cannot abandon him, Foma,” the injured commander said, “Nightman or not.”

Scott didn’t take offense at the remark. “We’ll go get him. Esther, come on.” He started down the hall and Esther followed.

Papanov helped his commander up. “The slayer’s name is Nijinsky.”

Suddenly, Esther stopped. She spun back around. “What did you say?”

“
Alexander Nijinsky. He was transferred here two months ago.”

The Briton’s mouth hit the floor.

“
Do you know him?”

When Scott realized Esther wasn’t following, he turned around to find her. “Esther?”

She was frozen in the hallway, facing the other two men. Her eyelashes flickered. “I’m sorry, I…I must be thinking of someone else…”

Scott stepped behind her. “Are you all right?”

“
I’m sorry, sir,” she said, regripping her pistols. “I’m ready to go.”

Meanwhile, the
Pariah
was in the midst of an air-to-ground battle. Travis had attempted to fortify a hovering position north of Svetlana’s team, but the arrival of canrassis and riders cut his efforts short. Their beast-mounted plasma guns weren’t as strong as plasma missiles, but they could still tear a hole through his hull. The
Pariah
was hovering sideways like an aerial crab, firing what was left of its cannon ammunition.

“
Travis,” Max’s voice was urgent over the comm, “we have a problem!”

“
You’re telling
me
?” Travis swung the
Pariah
‘s nose toward one of the canrassis. The beast and its rider were blown apart.

“
I need another technical kit. The Cruiser has power—the Ceratopians shut all the doors. I’m cut off from the kit I had.”

“
What?”

“
They shut the trashin’ doors, Travis! The doors in the Cruiser! We’re locked in different sections!”

“
Veck!”

“
I’m locked away from my technical kit—I need one of the backups.”

Travis jerked the stick back as a barrage of plasma blasts flew at him. Flopper leapt into Boris’s seat.

“
Trav, yeh all righ’?” Becan asked through the comm.

“
I’m fine.” The pilot refocused on Max. “I can’t help you, man. If I leave, they’re dead on the ground. I got Bakma riding out on canrassis.” The low-ammo warning flashed on the console.

“
Travis,” Becan yelled, “mind your house!”

The pilot checked his rear view screen. One of the eastern Noboats had lifted from the ground and was moving toward the
Pariah
. “Oh, crap.”

Max spoke again. “Travis, I don’t care what you have to do, but I need that backup kit
now
!”

The
Pariah
had less than six percent of its shells remaining. Inside his helmet, sweat poured down Travis’s forehead.

Becan’s voice came again. “We got riders…”

In front of the crashed Vulture where Svetlana was working, a spread of Bakmas and canrassis converged. Their plasma cannons trained on the wreckage.

Time slowed down as Travis became overwhelmed. Behind him, a fully-armed Noboat was about to engage. In front of him, a new assault was beginning against the medical team. Inside the Cruiser, Max’s team was in trouble. Travis’s mouth hung open as everything unraveled at once. His hands grew numb on the joystick. He watched the world fall apart.

Then he looked to his right.

Flopper was sitting upright in the copilot’s seat. The dog stared at Travis straight in the eyes; it started to bark.

Travis’s eyes suddenly refocused. He turned his stare back ahead. “Becan, I need ten seconds of cover.”

“
Yeh must be jokin’!”

Travis switched frequencies. “Max, do you have a clear path outside the ship?”

“
Yeah.”

“
Get outside
now
. Your kit’s on the way.”

Slamming the stick sideways, Travis pulled the
Pariah
to the left. Becan was attempting to fend off the Bakma below; for every shot the Irishman got off, the Bakma got five.

On the weapons display, Travis set the
Pariah
‘s auto-fire timer to begin in ten seconds. It immediately began to count down. Pushing the joystick forward, he lowered the craft until it hovered barely a foot off the snow.

Flopper barked wildly.

“
All right, dog,” Travis said. “Earn your keep.”

The timer reached zero, and the
Pariah
‘s front cannon burst into auto-fire. It launched an automatic spray of bullets at the canrassis as the ammo percentage went dangerously low.

Travis slammed his hand on the troop bay door button while the ship stayed in hover mode. He jumped out of the cockpit into the back. Flopper followed at his heels.

Reaching for the overhead bins, Travis grabbed a spare technical kit, his hands shaking violently. Glancing outside the open bay door, he saw the Noboat draw near. Flopper barked madly as Travis grabbed a rope and tied it to the kit’s handle. The warning klaxon sounded off in the cockpit as the ammo count hit one percent. He tied a loop at the rope’s other end, then time ran out. The klaxon stopped sounding and the nose-mounted cannon went still.

Travis shoved the loop into Flopper’s mouth. The dog wagged its tail and chomped down. “Max, call your dog!”

Max had just reached the outside of the Cruiser. He skidded as he came to the snow. “Call my dog—?”

“
Call Flopper now!”

“
Flopper, c’mon! Here boy!” Max clapped his hands and screamed at the top of his lungs from across the battlefield. The shadow of a Noboat passed over him as the Bakma ship beaded in on the
Pariah
.

“
Go, Flop!” Travis yelled, pushing the dog out of the ship. Max’s voice emerged far in the distance.

Flopper’s ears perked and he bolted in the direction of Max, dragging the technical kit behind him in the snow.

Travis looked up and his whole body froze. The Noboat was upon him. Its nose was beading in for the kill. Its weapons charged up.

He had nowhere to go.

Then it happened, right in front of his eyes. The pulse of charging plasma cannons subsided and the sky around the Noboat shimmered with blue electricity. The air crackled. The Noboat was gone.

Travis’s mouth fell open. He could still see the faint distortions in the air. It had dematerialized.

“
Gabriel to
Pariah
.” The comm crackled to life. “We have you on visual contact—do you copy?”

Travis dove into the pilot’s seat. His hand fiddled for the comm. In front of him, Bakma riders unleashed their plasma cannons. Bolts of white soared his way. He jerked the joystick back with all the force he could summon. The nose of the transport shot skyward and its rear thrusters rocketed to life.

Then it was struck. Plasma blasts tore through the ship’s right wing and underbelly. The cabin erupted with fire.

In the newly approaching Vulture, Rex Gabriel was the first to see it. He quickly shifted frequencies. “Gabriel to Fourteenth—the
Pariah
has been hit. I repeat, the
Pariah
has been hit.”

In the Battleship, Scott and Dostoevsky’s teams ceased all activity. On the ground, Svetlana and Becan stared skyward. Varvara’s crew did the same.

From his position outside the Cruiser, Max watched as the
Pariah
exploded in flames. First it soared skyward, then it stalled. Its nose swayed as its engines gave out. At the same time, Flopper tore through the snow toward Max.

Sirens in the
Pariah
wailed frantically as the auto-extinguishers kicked in. The ship’s engines stuttered and shook; the eject button flashed. Manhandling the joystick with one hand while his other grabbed the dangling comm, Travis yelled as the
Pariah
plummeted. “Pelican, this is
Pariah
. Dematerialized Noboat coming your way!”

The new Vulture slowed as it approached. In the cockpit, Pelican pilot Seth Camm spoke to Gabriel without turning around. “Captain…”

Next to Seth, a heavyset girl worked the controls. “I have visual with the Bakma on the ground.”

“
Take out the riders,” ordered Gabriel.

“
But the Noboat—”

“
We’ll find the Noboat, just take out the bloody riders!”

Below, Becan watched as Tanneken’s Vulture opened fire. The snow around the Bakma riders blew toward the sky—crimson spurted into the air. The canrassis scattered and fell.

Then the Irishman looked at the
Pariah
. It plummeted toward the ground.

Blood trickled from Travis’s forehead and cheeks. His burned hands gripped the controls, the eject button flashing continuously. He pulled back the stick.

Becan screamed over the comm.
“Travis, bail the hell ou’!”

Boris followed suit. “Travis, eject!”

Travis cried out in agony. He fought the controls. He watched as the earth became large. The stick could go back no more.

Suddenly, the
Pariah
‘s engines burst with new thrust. The ground tilted up—but the angle of ascent wasn’t enough.

Max watched the
Pariah
make impact as Flopper ran into his arms. The Vulture’s belly dug into the snow, as it scraped across the ground like a sled. “Get up, Travis…get up…”

Travis’s blood-curdling scream filled the
Pariah
. Sparks hit the cabin again as the ship rocked up and down.

Then it happened. Travis redirected the
Pariah
‘s thrust, and the ship suddenly grew light. The jostling ceased. The pilot gasped, holding his breath. His stomach lobbed itself in his throat; he kept on the stick.

The snowscape gave way to sky, and the ship’s nose angled up. The
Pariah
charged back into the air.