The Phoenix Darkness (28 page)

Blackmoth kept his ship in motion, matching
speed with the
Nighthawk,
which had begun to accelerate,
likely in preparation to jump from the system. He pitched
Hunter
Four
down ever so slightly, then rolled starboard a few
degrees. Everything was aligned.

With the press of a button,
Hunter
Four
clamped onto the
Nighthawk
and, after entering
another command, he activated the drill.

“It won’t be long now,” he said. While the
drill sliced into the
Nighthawk
’s armor with laser accuracy,
Blackmoth suited up and put on his helmet, acquiring the gear he
would need.

***

“Sir! Explosive decompression on deck four!”
yelled the officer at the Ops post, just as an alarm started
howling.

“What?” demanded Pellew, from the command
position. From her seat on the ground, hands tied behind her and
gagged, Summers had only an obstructed view of the Bridge’s
activity. Next to her sat Nimoux, unconsciously leaning as much
against her as the wall. She was grateful Pellew’s soldiers had
bandaged and cleaned the wounds, or at least made some effort to do
so, but she would never forgive Pellew for what he’d done. And the
minute she regained control of her ship, somehow, she would see to
it he paid the price of justice.

“Yes, sir!” yelled the Ops officer.
“Localized decompression on deck four! We’ve lost atmosphere down
there.”

“What about the surrounding decks?” Pellew
ran to look at the terminal.

“They’re fine. Hull Breach Protocol
automatically engaged. The affected deck has been sealed off.”

“What the hell happened?” asked one of the
soldiers, who, by the way he acted seemed to be Pellew’s right hand
man. “Did we hit some debris when we accelerated?”

“Sir, the breach is contained,” the Ops
officer reported. “Hull Breach protocol has disengaged, and
atmosphere is being restored to that deck.”

“What the hell do you mean, contained?” asked
Pellew, his eyes darting between the displays. “Do we have a
breach, or don’t we?”

“Wait; I’m wrong, sir,” said the Ops officer,
sounding entirely baffled. “We are breached! Atmosphere on deck
four has been lost, Hull Breach Protocol has reengaged. All access
to that deck has been sealed. Sir, there’s a hole in our ship.”

“So, we did hit some debris,” said Pellew’s
right hand man.

Pellew shook his head and a dark expression
spread over his face. “No, I know what this is,” he said.
“Condition one! Sound General Quarters!” he yelled, then tapped the
ship-wide intercom system, “ODA and ODB, all units suit up and
report to decks three and five immediately.
Climate-gear
.
Ali and Merrill, you remain in Engineering.” With that, Pellew
sprinted for the elevator.

“What is it, sir?”

“Invasion,” said Pellew, angrily. “We’ve been
boarded.”

He stepped inside the elevator. The two other
soldiers on the Bridge made to follow him, but Pellew raised a hand
to stop them. “I’ll handle this, you keep the Bridge under
control.”

“Aye, sir.”

***

Blackmoth wore a flexible, bullet-resistant,
full-body suit and helmet. He made sure the pull chain was properly
affixed to the mechanism inside
Hunter Four
and then he
leapt, floating the small distance between
Hunter Four
and
Nighthawk
until he reached the latter’s far bulkhead. He
used his free hand to push himself off the wall and toward the
floor, then activated his magnetic boots. They allowed him to walk
normally through the ship’s corridor, despite the null gravity and
lack of atmosphere.

The lights were out, as power had been cut to
the deck. He could have brought along a light to help him see, but
such would only make him into a target. Instead, he flipped the
button on his helmet, enabling the night vision mode, bathing the
deck in an eerie flood of infrared green. Much of the heat had
escaped with the atmosphere, so this solution was imperfect, but
many heat sources remained, allowing him to see with only slightly
compromised vision.

He took slow and steady steps, pulling the
chain along behind him; it floated weightlessly. Over his other
shoulder was the railgun, waiting for when Blackmoth needed it.

The
Nighthawk
’s corridor was sparse
and empty, which made sense. Had any crewman been standing in the
corridor, he might have been blown out into space from the force of
the explosive decompression. If not, he or she would be suffering
the uncomfortable results of hypoxia and embolism. Certainly they’d
be unconscious by now, if not dead.

He passed several small doors and one large
one. He knew each of them was locked and sealed, but it made no
matter. None of them was the destination he sought. The small doors
belonged to crewmen and the large was some kind of observation or
common room, hardly a good place to store a secure weapon.

Perhaps some poor crewmen were trapped behind
those small doors, he wondered as he walked past them. Maybe they
were in there trying desperately to survive off the limited
atmosphere their sealed quarters gave them. If so, they likely
would survive…today. But it made no difference. Whether they died
here or died later, the galaxy’s number was up and the One True God
would have the blood he demanded. The void would be filled with the
souls of all these unworthy beings. And then the plan would be
fulfilled and the galaxy could begin anew with only the worthy and
favored allowed to exist. No more will space be polluted by the
insolent, depraved, and unintelligent beings which dwelled within
it. “Let them enjoy their final evening in ignorance, for when the
dawn comes they will not rise with it.”

***

When Pellew arrived on deck five at the
emergency hatch—which had automatically sealed in order to contain
the loss of atmosphere on deck four—he was pleased to see that all
of ODA was already waiting for him. Better still was the news over
the radio that ODB stood similarly ready on deck three, beneath
that emergency hatch, ready to burst through and storm deck
four.

“We’ll take them from two sides,” Pellew
ordered over the radio. With all his men involved in the
operation—less the two guarding the Bridge and the two in
Engineering—they should make short work of whoever had dared to
invade the
Nighthawk
. Especially since Pellew was
ninety-nine percent certain they had come for the isotome weapon.
Well, they’re not going to get it
, he told himself.

Like the other soldiers, he wore a full-body
protective climate suit, including a helmet with attached torch; in
his hands he carried his trusty carbine. His hands were free to use
a two-handed weapon, since there wasn’t any need to bring one of
the handheld radios because the climate helmets came pre-equipped
with internal headsets. Which would make keeping communications
with his teams all the easier.

“The plan is simple, I will lead half of ODA
down and clear the deck on the starboard side. We will wheel around
toward stern in order to protect the missile. ODB, you will also
split in two, half of you will breach from below on the portside.
The rest will move the opposite way. Primary groups, proceed in a
circuit, heading to the forward section, then wheel around to meet
us in the stern. Support groups, help hold and maintain positions.
Is everybody clear?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” came the replies over the
radio. Pellew felt his heart pounding and decided that he was
overdue for a good fight. Especially since the fight aboard
the
Duchess
had been so pathetic. Any more engagements like that
and he was liable to lose his edge.

“Bridge, are all non-essential personnel
evacuated from decks five and three?” he radioed. “Or otherwise
safely quarantined in their sealed quarters?”

“Affirmative, Captain,” replied one of the
Bridge officers, Pellew didn’t recognize who. But it didn’t matter.
“Keep Hull Breach Protocol engaged on decks three and five,” he
added. “Until I tell you it’s clear.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Form up, men,” he said, and they got into
position, ready to blow the hatch. “Now remember, be ready for
anything. We have no idea what’s waiting for us down there, or
who.”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

“On my signal…”

***

Upon reaching the deck’s stern, Blackmoth
discovered the door he wanted. It was the right size and
undoubtedly, behind it, was situated his prize. The glorious work
of The One True God. “This weapon is meant for something far
greater than you humans can imagine,” he said, though no one was
around to hear.

The wide door was sealed and secured, like
all of the others. But that too made little difference. It was
symbolic, in a way, Blackmoth supposed, as he set the charges to
the door’s most vulnerable points—just enough explosives to
eliminate the door’s seals and locking mechanisms and nothing else.
The humans, the Rotham, the lost Polarians, each of them, in their
own ways, tried to frustrate the plans of The One True God. Whether
through combat, or fleeing, or attempts to deceive, or this locked
door, but all the best of them could manage was only ever a mere
stall. And always, The One True God was smarter than them. And had
known they would try to stall Him. And so he would use their
efforts against them, to fulfill His own designs. So great was the
majesty of His intelligence.

Blackmoth stood back and ignited the
explosives. There was no atmosphere, including no oxygen, but the
explosives had been designed with their own built in oxidizers. So
the lack of air meant nothing. Only that it seemed reverently
silent when the door decided to go, its seals and locks broken, it
leaned outward, floating in the air. Blackmoth had to grab it with
both hands, momentarily letting go of the chain, and pull the door
out of the way. When he did, he saw it.

The isotome missile. The blessed weapon.
My duty and my calling
, he thought. Although a profound
sense of joy and pride filled him, he did not smile. Nor did he
allow the sensation to linger—for it could only make him unclean.
Blackmoth was an imperfect vessel before The One True God. Truly
unworthy to see the new dawn The One True God had planned for the
galaxy, once it had been righteously purged. But despite his
imperfections, weaknesses, and filthy human origins, Blackmoth had
been honored to act as a sword in the hand of The One True God. And
as a sword he would obediently do his duty, cutting asunder all the
hopes of the wretched mortals. To be a harbinger of their imminent
doom.

He picked up the chain and pulled it into the
room, then set to fastening it around the isotome missile. Once
he’d done that, he removed the bolts that held the weapon fixed to
the ground, and gave it a gentle nudge upward. It floated. He
transmitted a command to his ship and
Hunter Four
began
retracting the chain, pulling the isotome missile toward it.
Blackmoth had but to guide it. Like The One True God guided
him.

***

“Go, go,
go
!” ordered Pellew, and his
teams began their breach. The emergency hatches were blown aside
and his team floated down onto the surface of deck four, where the
gravity was out. “Activate magnetic boots.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Activating.”

The lights were out too, so it was impossible
to see anything. Pellew switched on his torch and the others did
the same. The torches were affixed to their helmets, so they had
vision wherever they looked.

“Clear!” said the forward-most soldier,
sweeping his weapon around as he searched the area.

“Forward,” said Pellew, pointing ahead. His
men formed up and they marched forward, clearing the corridor as
they went, doing their best to spy around corners and check that
each door they passed was sealed, to be certain no enemy soldiers
were hiding in ambush.

They had to move slowly in the null gravity,
the magnetic boots made it impossible to run, but Pellew was
grateful that he and his men were able to stick to the deck. It
would make it a lot easier in a firefight for them to kneel or take
cover, not to mention keep their shots steady, than if they were
floating around aimlessly.

Each room they passed seemed to be locked and
sealed, just like protocol required. That was good, that meant
their enemy was bound to show his face soon—he had nowhere to
hide.

“ODB, report. Do you see anything?”

“Negative. But we’ve only just climbed to the
deck’s surface. Activating magnetic boots now, sir.”

“Keep me apprised.”

“Aye, aye.”

Pellew urged his men to pick up the pace. He
wanted to make certain they got to the auxiliary lab before the
intruder did. Luckily, Pellew and his men knew where the weapon
was, and they knew the layout of the ship, so, as far as he could
tell, they had all the advantages. Now it was just a matter of
cornering the intruders and capturing them. Or butchering them, if
it came down to it. Pellew would stop at nothing to protect that
missile.

“Clear.”

“Move, move, move!”

***

After beating on the door for some time, Shen
could see that the metal, where the two doors met in the middle,
had begun to bend. While the seal had yet to be broken, and he
remained a prisoner on the observation deck, his repeated efforts,
and the gift or curse of his newfound strength—combined with a
surge of adrenaline that had taken over—had left two sizable dents,
one on each door. They were of such a character that he could grip
them with his hands and, pushing in opposite directions, thought he
might be able to force the doors apart. At least far enough to
allow himself to slip out.