Moon Shadows Chapter 6
Crais arrived early at the transport pod, leaving the others to say their goodbyes in private. At Ke'air's insistence, Toma would accompany him aboard the transport, along with Elder Sabad and Nimm's mother, Mira, and sisters, Trinn and Shaya.
In the arns before daylight, with the majority of the tents struck, the inhabitants moved trancelike to their appointed vessels. Elay Sabad was already aboard when Nimm arrived with his family. They stopped at the base of the ramp, each sister in turn clutching the young soldier before hurrying aboard. His mother cupped his face, her eyes searching his. When it looked as though she might speak, he gently touched her lips with his fingers and lightly shook his head. There was nothing left to say. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, lingered a moment and then ascended the ramp.
Nimm silently watched her disappear inside the hatch. Several microts passed before he shifted his attention to Crais. Although the air around them felt weighted, the young man's eyes remained clear, unyielding.
Crais spoke first. "I wish you good fortune, Nimm."
He raised his arm and grasped hands with the Sebacean. "AraNimm DuSett."
"Good fortune . . . AraNimm DuSett."
"You carry precious cargo, my brother. Get it there in one piece." Nimm slapped him soundly on the shoulder with his free hand, and for the first time, Crais responded with a subdued smile.
Ke'air and Toma arrived next, accompanied by Emone and Vyett. The sisters, who looked resplendent in matching yellow silk caftans, clasped hands with Crais in the traditional farewell between Tah soldiers. It was time. Emone threw her arms around Ke'air's neck, kissed him and backed away. He nodded, following her with his eyes until she disappeared into the crowd with Nimm and Vyett. He turned back, gathered Toma in his arms, and after a few whispered words, motioned her up the ramp.
"Take care of her," he said solemnly to Crais.
"Stay close and do as I instruct you. I have no intention of allowing you to encumber me with *your* responsibilities."
He grinned at that and nodded. Crais offered his hand. Ke'air raised a brow at the gesture and knocked the Sebacean's arm aside, instead grasping him by the shoulders and pulling him into a rough embrace. Before Crais could say or do anything, Ke'air released him, clapped him on the arms and strode away.
Crais stepped up into the hatchway and turned back to view Anjeluh in the first shafts of daylight. The absence of the canvas dwellings left the haven looking bare, stripped of color and sound. Scattered throughout the shadows, the thirty constituents who chose to remain behind stared back, an occasional hand raised in farewell. As he gripped the handle to secure the hatch, slender arms circled his waist from behind. It occurred to him that the possibility of dying *again* had not weighed this heavily before.
# # #
A quarter arn after Vess and Dauscho's Astras departed for their rendezvous with Drekka Squadron, Crais gave the signal. The civilian ships skimmed the surface as they sped toward the assigned coordinate, the horizon around them speckled black with ships from the other havens. Flying low, hugging the part of the planet still swathed in daylight, over nine hundred craft of every shape and size arced up into the atmosphere at the first report of contact at Mu'Lahr. Relieved they had gotten this far undetected and without incident, Crais assumed the point position.
"Drekka's taking heavy resistance from the Firebugs, but no Cruisers on the grid," Vyett reported over the comm.
"There is nothing in front of us . . . so far," Crais replied. "Gammat?"
"Suffering casualties, but inflicting them as well. They report a Cruiser on approach from Draegen."
The dimensional imager displayed the armada of civilian craft behind the transport pod, a huge, slow-moving carcass waiting to be picked clean by the faster Draegen Firebugs. Crais compressed the image to flat screen, scowling as the hygic projection confirmed what he already knew. Even at top speed it would take another two arns to reach the dubious safety of Tarn airspace.
The twelve Astras flew in formations of three. Nimm positioned the Hawk for high cover while Vyett reported what Crais already suspected as he monitored the energy signals. One by one, the Tah fighters disappeared from the screen until only those ships bearing Draegen power signatures remained . . . hundreds of them. One half arn after the battle began, Drekka and Gammat squadrons ceased to exist.
On screen, Crais observed the airbus lagging back, slightly out of position. He opened a direct comm. "Maintain maximum speed and tighten up. You're drifting wide."
"Acknowledged," came the reply.
Crais hesitated, brow furrowed. The voice was wrong.
"Ke'air?" he asked.
"He's aboard the tanker," the voice, which he now recognized as that of Tenis Dauscho, responded.
"What is he doing there?" Crais snapped back.
Toma rushed forward and gripped the edge of the console.
"He came to me shortly before lift off and said you had changed the assignments because of pressure from my father, although my father absolutely denies this. Ke'air told me that Kristop was to fly the Astra instead." Tenis paused, waiting for a reply. "These *were* your orders, were they not?"
Crais' eyes went wide. He promptly closed the comm and hailed the tanker. "Report."
"Everything is under control here. Is there a problem?" Kristop asked.
His chin dropped to his chest.
"What has he done?" Toma cried.
For a moment, Crais shielded his face with an unsteady hand. Drawing a deep breath, he raised his head and straightened his shoulders. He should have known. Of all people, *he* should have known.
Tears spilled across Toma's cheeks. "Why, Bialar? Why did he do this?"
"Your brother was a soldier."
She gripped his arm until he looked at her. He knew she meant to have an answer.
"I believe that Ke'air wanted to give Press Dauscho back a son. He sought . . . redemption. Go and sit down," he said softly, yet firmly. "Do as I tell you."
There was no time to mourn. A fleet of ships, so dense that the tiny blips of light formed a solid luminous ball on screen had just launched from Mu'Lahr. The Draegen cruiser en route from the asteroid field would intercept them in a quarter arn. They weren't going to make it. Only the transport pod and a handful of stratum-class vessels had any chance of outrunning them, thirty ships in all. If the attack on Mu'Lahr went well, the Tah ships would remain in formation. Every pilot knew that a command to break ranks and run meant only one thing. Crais gave the order. Instantly a handful of blue streaks colored the black space ahead of them, yet the transport pod maintained a steady speed and course.
"We're staying," Elay Sabad said.
Crais was uncertain if it was a statement or a question, but he nodded in response. The old man cracked a thin smile and nodded in turn. The Elder's presence seemed to comfort the women, who were all quiet for the moment. Toma had separated herself from the others and sat gazing stoically toward the floor. Crais wished he could comfort her, but for the moment the choice was not his to make.
"I knew you would stay, my brother," Nimm's voice crackled over the comm.
"Will the cruiser wait for the strike force from the planet's surface to make contact before they attack?
"Swivelheads are what they are . . . bugs, and bugs swarm. They're probably gonna hit us at the same time."
"Would they pass up a convoy of civilian ships to swarm a significantly smaller armed force?" Crais asked.
Nimm's tone hinted of optimism. "It's possible. You know they're gonna go right though us like toes through an old sock anyway, spread thin like this along the perimeter. If the Astras can draw them off, it gains you a little time."
"Agreed."
"I'm gonna break off and give it the juice . . . drop off their scans. They won't be expecting nobody from behind. Maybe with so much to aim at, some swivelhead aboard that cruiser makes a mistake . . . doesn't pay no attention to one tiny speck on the screen."
"It is worth a try; however, it is likely a ship of that size will have automated defense systems."
"Set to defend against known methods of attack. Maybe ol' Nimm's gonna show them something new. Don't blink, my brother."
It was easy to forget he was talking to a boy, a child with the heart of a warrior, not unlike Talyn. As the Hawk departed, Crais plotted a course that sent the Astras to a vector equally distant from the civilian ships and the approaching Firebugs. Every enemy had a weakness. Perhaps, too late, he might have discovered the Draegens'. Predictability.
As the Astras broke off, Elay Sabad made his way to the control panel. He steadied himself with a hand on Crais' arm, refusing the offer of a seat. Neither man spoke as they watched the Draegen ships continue on a trajectory straight toward them. The distance between the civilian vessels and the Astras began to widen. The Firebugs decelerated, almost coming to a complete stop before shifting direction in a slow, tight arc toward the Tah fighters.
Crais nodded, his expression unchanged. He magnified the approaching cruiser on screen. "We cannot outrun it and we cannot go around. They have slowed, no doubt to engage us at the same time the Firebugs close in from behind. We are . . . trapped."
Sabad raised a brow, sensing there was more.
"If we maintain this course at our present speed and force them to attack us prior to their fighter cover arriving, it is likely that a few ships may slip past in the debris. It also increases the odds that the Hawk can return undetected."
"Do Nimm, Moni and Yetti stand a chance?"
"I'm afraid not. Yet, if the Hawk is able to divert the cruiser's attention, however briefly, it presents a window of opportunity for others."
Sabad nodded agreeably, clasping a hand on his shoulder. "Young man, let's show them frelling bugs what we're made of."
On long-range magnification, the jagged tiers and spindly docking arms of the Cruiser began to take shape. The ship was only slightly larger than Talyn, similar in size and armament to a Scarran Fracas. Staring out the view screen, shoulders squared and hands locked behind him, Crais wondered what the commander of the Draegen cruiser must think as he watched hundreds of unarmed, unshielded vessels race headlong toward their own destruction.
"A Scarran Dreadnaught or Peacekeeper Command Carrier could easily destroy us at this distance," he stated aloud. "Although heavily armed, these Draegens lack range and are conventional to a fault." He tossed a glance over his shoulder at Elder Sabad. "If not for the preemptive strike I believe the Tah military, though smaller and not as well-equipped, would have ultimately defeated them."
As Crais had expected, a single speck of light appeared on the edge of the tracking screen and began to close swiftly on the Cruiser. "The battle this day belongs to them," he continued, his chin tilted in thought, "but the war . . . the war is far from over. Even in our absence, I believe we will prevail over these slow-witted creatures."
At hetch six, the Hawk was calling up every trad of power. As the civilian vessels inched within range, the Cruiser's forward sonic cannons opened fire. On the pod's treblin side, a freight transport carrying over a hundred Tah disintegrated, while the remainder of the detonations flashed harmlessly in front of them. The second volley erased a handful of ships from the monitor and disabled several others.
The Cruiser's rear cannon began to spit fire at the approaching Hawk, which was coming in fast and low. Nimm arced the vessel as though to climb. The instant the Draegen fire reacted to the maneuver, he dropped the ship's nose and plunged straight down, crashing through the top decks of the Cruiser. Crais stared wide-eyed, his breath suspended for that eternal instant it took the Hawk's cesium and taks to detonate. The Cruiser shuddered, a yellow glow mushrooming from within the hull. He shielded his eyes against a sudden burst of white light and slapped the comm.
"Brace yourselves!"
The shock wave knocked him from his feet, followed by a hailstorm of debris that peppered the hull.
"What happened?" Sabad cried out from the deck.
Crais pulled himself to his feet and saw Toma rush to help the old man. Mira DuSett was squatted in the corner, arms wrapped around her daughters. Her eyes told him she knew her son was gone.
"The Cruiser has sustained heavy damage."
Ahead, the Draegen ship dangled in a slow, lazy spiral as though suspended by a line from its bow. Scans verified its propulsion and weapon systems were inoperative. The temperature inside the hull registered at two thousand klances.
"Flames from the explosion apparently spread through the ventilation system. A large part of the ship is on fire."
"Serves them swivelheads right," Sabad grunted. "Are we in the clear yet?"
Crais weighed the data on screen and gave his head a solemn shake. "I believe we are safe from any further ships that might be dispatched from Draegen; however, the Firebugs will still overtake us before we reach Tarn airspace."
He felt Toma's hand curl around his arm. He placed a hand over hers, his eyes never leaving the screen. The Astras had managed to temporarily divert the enemy squadrons, yet their time was about to run out as well. As he stared at the monitor, the distance separating the twelve fighters from the Firebugs continued to narrow until the two forces made contact. The Astras vanished.
"Did you see what Nimm done?" Tenis Dauscho blurted over the comm.
"We saw it," Crais replied, his tone low, strained. "His mother saw it and his sisters saw it."
The comm fell silent. Before Dauscho could respond, Crais opened a channel to all ships.
"Our military support is gone." His voice stalled. "They served us well. We are within an arn of Tarn airspace, soon to be overtaken by a sizeable enemy force. We have no choice but to continue on the path we have chosen. Maintain your present course at maximum speed. Begin evasive maneuvers on my command."
Several ships hailed to report they had decided to take their chances alone. Others simply left, all single passenger vessels. It made no difference. Crais knew they would only survive if the Draegen *let* them go. Considering the burnt out hull of the Cruiser and its incinerated crew they left behind, he doubted that would happen.
Sabad's ancient shell had not fared well in the turbulence. He sat on the deck, curled forward, favoring his right arm, which Crais suspected was broken. "How close is it gonna be?"
"I believe that at least some of the ships will still reach Tarn airspace."
The old man nodded feebly, narrowing his eyes questioningly at Toma. "What happened to your brother?"
She looked to Crais for the answer.
"He took Tenis Dauscho's place in the Astra."
"And that is why he wanted me to go with you instead of on the airbus?" she asked.
He considered his answer carefully. "Only partially."
"Did you know?"
"I should have," Crais replied with obvious regret. "He told me that perhaps this day he would find redemption. I realize only now what he meant."
Toma fixed her eyes on nothing in particular, nodding.
"If any of us makes it, Ke'air's one of 'em we got to thank for it," Sabad said. "I figure that's redemption enough for any man."
Crais slipped his arm around Toma's waist and took her aside, seeking out what limited privacy the transport had to offer. She buried her face in his shoulder and shook with muffled sobs, quietly repeating her brother's name. A stranger to giving comfort, he held her for what brief time remained them and then placed his hands on her arms, separating her from him. She sniffed and brushed away tears before meeting his gaze. His faint smile acknowledged what she used her eyes to say.
"Stay with the others," he said, touching her face. "Try to keep them calm and quiet."
Toma knew him well enough to understand that this was all he was capable of giving. She nodded and went after the medical kit to treat Sabad's injuries.
With unobstructed space in front of him, Crais believed there was still a chance he could make it. Staying no longer served a purpose; they were on course, the distress beacons sent. Although it made sense to go, the thought of deserting the Tah soured his stomach and coated his mouth with a bitter taste of indecision. Perhaps it was because Crichton and the others had always doubted him, or in truth because he had doubted himself. Despite Dam Ba Da and the command carrier, they would still doubt him. They would *always* doubt him. Only the Tah had believed. Even Ke'air Masahje, who knew the truth, trusted him with his sister's life.
"They have dispatched squadrons to flank us," he reported.
"Too bad we don't have a few more Hawks to give 'em a bloody nose," Sabad muttered.
Crais raised a brow in consideration of the statement. He pivoted, chin raised, chest puffed out, and switched open a visual channel to their attackers. "Draegen strike force, this is Captain Bialar Crais . . . Peacekeeper. I warn you to discontinue your pursuit. Any act of aggression will result in your destruction. Your cruiser failed to heed my warning. I strongly suggest you do not make the same mistake."
He severed the channel and gave Sabad a speculative glance.
"Has that ever worked?" he asked.
Before Crais could respond, a second voice sounded. "Draegen vessels, this is Tenis Dauscho, soldier of Tah. Withdraw your ships . . . or else . . . we will . . . attack!"
"He gets that from his father," Sabad said with a wry grin. "Have they turned tail yet?"
"They are maintaining their distance. It appears they are assessing the threat."
Every microt counted now. A quarter of an arn separated them from the buffer zone, a slender neutral strip that separated Draegen and Tarn airspace. It was only a quarter of an arn, but it might as well have been a cycle. Plus, there was still no assurance that the Draegen would break off their attack once they reached it.
As he expected, twenty of the Firebugs separated from the main force and resumed their approach, exactly the tactic he would have ordered. Believing it would serve no purpose for the others to hear the transmissions from this point on, he attached a comm chip alongside his ear and gave the signal to begin evasive maneuvers. He had plotted the defensive flight patterns based on vids of the past Draegen attacks available to him. A different *look* might throw them off for a while, yet with so much to shoot at, it would only postpone the inevitable.
The Firebugs came straight at them from the rear. The first shot hit a nectar transport that carried twenty people. The patterns helped somewhat, but the Tah ships were too slow to outmaneuver the fighters for long. One after another, the Draegens found their target. It was eerily quiet, the explosions, the turbulence and the debris not obvious to the greater part of the fleet. Several Tah pilots hailed to report they were under attack, others went to their death without a word. A merchant transport armed with pulse cannons to deter pirates damaged one Firebug prior to being destroyed, but it was too little, too late.
The main Draegen force moved in. At first they picked off the slower vessels that lagged behind. When the threatened retaliation failed to materialize they went straight for the heart, a dozen squadrons slicing forward into the belly of the fleet. Crais stared helplessly at the small dots of light on the screen . . . men, women, children, there one moment, gone the next. No cries for help. No screams. They simply disappeared.
The Tah ships had spread out, zigging and zagging to avoid the swarming Firebugs. He smacked the counter with his palm, slid behind the controls and flicked the switch to manual. By cholak, he intended to make them work for it.
"Those buzzards coming?" Sabad asked.
"It has begun," Crais replied, turning back to catch Toma's eye. She tried to smile and he did the same. "Hold on. This is likely to be a rough ride."
He arced the pod and darted directly in the path of a Firebug bearing down to intercept Dauscho in the airbus. Startled by the bold maneuver, the Draegen pilot veered off, but quickly resumed pursuit of the pod. One on one, the Draegen was no match for him. He banked, rolled and lured the Firebug into open space. Two other fighters joined the pursuit. For one brief moment he felt as one with the Leviathan again. Rolling, banking, diving . . . he was no longer the pilot, but the ship.
A close miss jostled the pod and filled the view screen with a brilliant, blinding light. The pod lurched violently and the deck dropped from beneath his feet. A loud, angry groan of metal chorused the girls' screams. This was the end, he thought.
He gathered a desperate breath, choking on the smoke and stench of fried circuits, and pulled himself up alongside the panel. Incredibly, the Firebugs had ceased firing. For a moment his face fell slack, but then suddenly creased and reddened with rage.
"Damn you!" Crais shouted, slamming a fist on the panel again, then again. "Damn you to the eternal dark pit from where you came!"
Toma staggered over, covering her mouth, coughing.
"They've cut us off . . . moved fifty ships just this side of the buffer zone." Crais blurted. "They do not intend to let us leave this place alive. It is over."
"Give them an order," she gasped.
"There are no orders left to give," he snarled. "We have *nothing* left to fight with, *nowhere* left to run. We are finished.
Toma grabbed hold of his shirt and screamed in his face. "Give . . . them . . . an . . . order."
He stared at her, wide-eyed. She released his shirt and slid her hands up onto his shoulders. He steadied himself with a breath and nodded.
"Remain on course. Keep going," he said resolutely over the comm.
She relaxed against his chest and he folded his arms around her, his cheek rested against her head, eyes closed.
Static crackled in response. " . . . Tarn . . . airspace . . . met with force . . ."
"Why don't they finish us?" Sabad asked.
Tenis Dausche hailed from the airbus. "Shouldn't we answer them?"
Crais turned his attention back to the monitor. The line of ships ahead remained stationary, a line drawn in the sand that they were being dared to cross. He magnified the image and for an instant went slack-jawed.
Prowlers.
" . . . Tah civilian ships . . . violation of . . . airspace . . . "
Crais shot Sabad a bewildered look. "They're Prowlers."
"They here to let us in or to keep us out?"
"We are unarmed. We request asylum," Crais blurted. "Acknowledge."
Behind them the Firebugs continued their attack the main body of the civilian fleet, their fire concentrated on the trailing vessels.
" . . . any violation of Tarn airspace . . . act of aggression . . . met with force."
"These are civilians, unarmed civilians. Acknowledge . . . please."
Crais locked on to the transmission and boosted the signal until he made out the brief recorded message that played over and over. " . . . any violation of Tarn airspace will be considered an act of aggression and will be met with force. The government of Tarn grants asylum to Tah civilian vessels. Draegen forces, any violation of Tarn airspace will be considered an act of aggression and will be met with force. The government of Tarn grants asylum . . . "
# # #
The Tarn landing coordinates situated them in a valley of rolling green grassland, barren in contrast to the lofty domed trees of Tah. Crais had landed the pod on a small rise where the following day the Elders of Tah and representatives of the Tarn government were scheduled to meet.
Whether deterred by the Prowlers or by their own nature, the Draegen had aborted their attack at the buffer zone.
The ship-to-ship channels were clear now, two arns already passed since the last vessel landed. With the help of Trinn and Shaya DuSett, Elay Sabad located Crais on a bluff overlooking the makeshift landing pad. The old man found a seat and waved the girls back to the transport. The Sebacean continued to stare solemnly at the activity below, mindful of the Elder's presence, but unwilling to share his thoughts.
"We figure this is all that made it," Sabad finally offered.
Crais glanced over and nodded.
"Better'n we thought. Almost two hundred thousand people."
Again, a nod, but this time he continued to gaze vacantly at the venue below.
"That's more than we ever could'a hoped for."
He tilted his head and gave the old man a curious look. "You could have hoped to prevent it from happening in the first place."
"Coulda, woulda, shoulda," Sabad replied with a mirthless grin. "We don't choose the path, son, only the side of it we're gonna walk on."
Crais seemed to consider what he said. "Your family?"
With lips clenched, he gave his head a slight shake. "Grett and Rhee were aboard the tanker. Tenis told me it took a direct hit . . . tak. Never knew what hit 'em."
"Kristop's ship?" Crais' eyes clouded at the news. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"I got three grandchildren on that airbus that made it though, two nephews and a cousin."
"That is something to be grateful for."
The Elder nodded. "Where's that gal of yours?"
The words caught him off guard. It had been a long time since he considered himself a part of someone else's life. "She and Mira went down to help with the injured, an effort I should probably join them in." He started toward Sabad. "I'll assist you back inside the transport."
"No, you go ahead. I can comm the gals to come get me when I'm ready. Doubt that any of us will be gettin' much sleep tonight."
Crais had already turned to leave when the old man spoke again, "Thank you for what you done."
His impeccable posture shifted uncomfortably. "Good night, Elder."
On the valley floor, tents began to spring up amid the odd assemblage of ships, their brilliant domed canopies muted in the fleeting daylight. Despite the day's events, there was order, people moving about with quiet purpose. He chose his footing carefully on the uneven, dirt path and reflected on Sabad's words. What he thought had been a detour was really only the final leg of the journey, one that began not at the command carrier, but fifty cycles earlier. It seemed there would be a tomorrow after all. Bialar Crais did not know what the future held for him, yet as he made his way down the hillside to find Toma, he felt that he had finally found his direction.
Forward.
Crais arrived early at the transport pod, leaving the others to say their goodbyes in private. At Ke'air's insistence, Toma would accompany him aboard the transport, along with Elder Sabad and Nimm's mother, Mira, and sisters, Trinn and Shaya.
In the arns before daylight, with the majority of the tents struck, the inhabitants moved trancelike to their appointed vessels. Elay Sabad was already aboard when Nimm arrived with his family. They stopped at the base of the ramp, each sister in turn clutching the young soldier before hurrying aboard. His mother cupped his face, her eyes searching his. When it looked as though she might speak, he gently touched her lips with his fingers and lightly shook his head. There was nothing left to say. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, lingered a moment and then ascended the ramp.
Nimm silently watched her disappear inside the hatch. Several microts passed before he shifted his attention to Crais. Although the air around them felt weighted, the young man's eyes remained clear, unyielding.
Crais spoke first. "I wish you good fortune, Nimm."
He raised his arm and grasped hands with the Sebacean. "AraNimm DuSett."
"Good fortune . . . AraNimm DuSett."
"You carry precious cargo, my brother. Get it there in one piece." Nimm slapped him soundly on the shoulder with his free hand, and for the first time, Crais responded with a subdued smile.
Ke'air and Toma arrived next, accompanied by Emone and Vyett. The sisters, who looked resplendent in matching yellow silk caftans, clasped hands with Crais in the traditional farewell between Tah soldiers. It was time. Emone threw her arms around Ke'air's neck, kissed him and backed away. He nodded, following her with his eyes until she disappeared into the crowd with Nimm and Vyett. He turned back, gathered Toma in his arms, and after a few whispered words, motioned her up the ramp.
"Take care of her," he said solemnly to Crais.
"Stay close and do as I instruct you. I have no intention of allowing you to encumber me with *your* responsibilities."
He grinned at that and nodded. Crais offered his hand. Ke'air raised a brow at the gesture and knocked the Sebacean's arm aside, instead grasping him by the shoulders and pulling him into a rough embrace. Before Crais could say or do anything, Ke'air released him, clapped him on the arms and strode away.
Crais stepped up into the hatchway and turned back to view Anjeluh in the first shafts of daylight. The absence of the canvas dwellings left the haven looking bare, stripped of color and sound. Scattered throughout the shadows, the thirty constituents who chose to remain behind stared back, an occasional hand raised in farewell. As he gripped the handle to secure the hatch, slender arms circled his waist from behind. It occurred to him that the possibility of dying *again* had not weighed this heavily before.
# # #
A quarter arn after Vess and Dauscho's Astras departed for their rendezvous with Drekka Squadron, Crais gave the signal. The civilian ships skimmed the surface as they sped toward the assigned coordinate, the horizon around them speckled black with ships from the other havens. Flying low, hugging the part of the planet still swathed in daylight, over nine hundred craft of every shape and size arced up into the atmosphere at the first report of contact at Mu'Lahr. Relieved they had gotten this far undetected and without incident, Crais assumed the point position.
"Drekka's taking heavy resistance from the Firebugs, but no Cruisers on the grid," Vyett reported over the comm.
"There is nothing in front of us . . . so far," Crais replied. "Gammat?"
"Suffering casualties, but inflicting them as well. They report a Cruiser on approach from Draegen."
The dimensional imager displayed the armada of civilian craft behind the transport pod, a huge, slow-moving carcass waiting to be picked clean by the faster Draegen Firebugs. Crais compressed the image to flat screen, scowling as the hygic projection confirmed what he already knew. Even at top speed it would take another two arns to reach the dubious safety of Tarn airspace.
The twelve Astras flew in formations of three. Nimm positioned the Hawk for high cover while Vyett reported what Crais already suspected as he monitored the energy signals. One by one, the Tah fighters disappeared from the screen until only those ships bearing Draegen power signatures remained . . . hundreds of them. One half arn after the battle began, Drekka and Gammat squadrons ceased to exist.
On screen, Crais observed the airbus lagging back, slightly out of position. He opened a direct comm. "Maintain maximum speed and tighten up. You're drifting wide."
"Acknowledged," came the reply.
Crais hesitated, brow furrowed. The voice was wrong.
"Ke'air?" he asked.
"He's aboard the tanker," the voice, which he now recognized as that of Tenis Dauscho, responded.
"What is he doing there?" Crais snapped back.
Toma rushed forward and gripped the edge of the console.
"He came to me shortly before lift off and said you had changed the assignments because of pressure from my father, although my father absolutely denies this. Ke'air told me that Kristop was to fly the Astra instead." Tenis paused, waiting for a reply. "These *were* your orders, were they not?"
Crais' eyes went wide. He promptly closed the comm and hailed the tanker. "Report."
"Everything is under control here. Is there a problem?" Kristop asked.
His chin dropped to his chest.
"What has he done?" Toma cried.
For a moment, Crais shielded his face with an unsteady hand. Drawing a deep breath, he raised his head and straightened his shoulders. He should have known. Of all people, *he* should have known.
Tears spilled across Toma's cheeks. "Why, Bialar? Why did he do this?"
"Your brother was a soldier."
She gripped his arm until he looked at her. He knew she meant to have an answer.
"I believe that Ke'air wanted to give Press Dauscho back a son. He sought . . . redemption. Go and sit down," he said softly, yet firmly. "Do as I tell you."
There was no time to mourn. A fleet of ships, so dense that the tiny blips of light formed a solid luminous ball on screen had just launched from Mu'Lahr. The Draegen cruiser en route from the asteroid field would intercept them in a quarter arn. They weren't going to make it. Only the transport pod and a handful of stratum-class vessels had any chance of outrunning them, thirty ships in all. If the attack on Mu'Lahr went well, the Tah ships would remain in formation. Every pilot knew that a command to break ranks and run meant only one thing. Crais gave the order. Instantly a handful of blue streaks colored the black space ahead of them, yet the transport pod maintained a steady speed and course.
"We're staying," Elay Sabad said.
Crais was uncertain if it was a statement or a question, but he nodded in response. The old man cracked a thin smile and nodded in turn. The Elder's presence seemed to comfort the women, who were all quiet for the moment. Toma had separated herself from the others and sat gazing stoically toward the floor. Crais wished he could comfort her, but for the moment the choice was not his to make.
"I knew you would stay, my brother," Nimm's voice crackled over the comm.
"Will the cruiser wait for the strike force from the planet's surface to make contact before they attack?
"Swivelheads are what they are . . . bugs, and bugs swarm. They're probably gonna hit us at the same time."
"Would they pass up a convoy of civilian ships to swarm a significantly smaller armed force?" Crais asked.
Nimm's tone hinted of optimism. "It's possible. You know they're gonna go right though us like toes through an old sock anyway, spread thin like this along the perimeter. If the Astras can draw them off, it gains you a little time."
"Agreed."
"I'm gonna break off and give it the juice . . . drop off their scans. They won't be expecting nobody from behind. Maybe with so much to aim at, some swivelhead aboard that cruiser makes a mistake . . . doesn't pay no attention to one tiny speck on the screen."
"It is worth a try; however, it is likely a ship of that size will have automated defense systems."
"Set to defend against known methods of attack. Maybe ol' Nimm's gonna show them something new. Don't blink, my brother."
It was easy to forget he was talking to a boy, a child with the heart of a warrior, not unlike Talyn. As the Hawk departed, Crais plotted a course that sent the Astras to a vector equally distant from the civilian ships and the approaching Firebugs. Every enemy had a weakness. Perhaps, too late, he might have discovered the Draegens'. Predictability.
As the Astras broke off, Elay Sabad made his way to the control panel. He steadied himself with a hand on Crais' arm, refusing the offer of a seat. Neither man spoke as they watched the Draegen ships continue on a trajectory straight toward them. The distance between the civilian vessels and the Astras began to widen. The Firebugs decelerated, almost coming to a complete stop before shifting direction in a slow, tight arc toward the Tah fighters.
Crais nodded, his expression unchanged. He magnified the approaching cruiser on screen. "We cannot outrun it and we cannot go around. They have slowed, no doubt to engage us at the same time the Firebugs close in from behind. We are . . . trapped."
Sabad raised a brow, sensing there was more.
"If we maintain this course at our present speed and force them to attack us prior to their fighter cover arriving, it is likely that a few ships may slip past in the debris. It also increases the odds that the Hawk can return undetected."
"Do Nimm, Moni and Yetti stand a chance?"
"I'm afraid not. Yet, if the Hawk is able to divert the cruiser's attention, however briefly, it presents a window of opportunity for others."
Sabad nodded agreeably, clasping a hand on his shoulder. "Young man, let's show them frelling bugs what we're made of."
On long-range magnification, the jagged tiers and spindly docking arms of the Cruiser began to take shape. The ship was only slightly larger than Talyn, similar in size and armament to a Scarran Fracas. Staring out the view screen, shoulders squared and hands locked behind him, Crais wondered what the commander of the Draegen cruiser must think as he watched hundreds of unarmed, unshielded vessels race headlong toward their own destruction.
"A Scarran Dreadnaught or Peacekeeper Command Carrier could easily destroy us at this distance," he stated aloud. "Although heavily armed, these Draegens lack range and are conventional to a fault." He tossed a glance over his shoulder at Elder Sabad. "If not for the preemptive strike I believe the Tah military, though smaller and not as well-equipped, would have ultimately defeated them."
As Crais had expected, a single speck of light appeared on the edge of the tracking screen and began to close swiftly on the Cruiser. "The battle this day belongs to them," he continued, his chin tilted in thought, "but the war . . . the war is far from over. Even in our absence, I believe we will prevail over these slow-witted creatures."
At hetch six, the Hawk was calling up every trad of power. As the civilian vessels inched within range, the Cruiser's forward sonic cannons opened fire. On the pod's treblin side, a freight transport carrying over a hundred Tah disintegrated, while the remainder of the detonations flashed harmlessly in front of them. The second volley erased a handful of ships from the monitor and disabled several others.
The Cruiser's rear cannon began to spit fire at the approaching Hawk, which was coming in fast and low. Nimm arced the vessel as though to climb. The instant the Draegen fire reacted to the maneuver, he dropped the ship's nose and plunged straight down, crashing through the top decks of the Cruiser. Crais stared wide-eyed, his breath suspended for that eternal instant it took the Hawk's cesium and taks to detonate. The Cruiser shuddered, a yellow glow mushrooming from within the hull. He shielded his eyes against a sudden burst of white light and slapped the comm.
"Brace yourselves!"
The shock wave knocked him from his feet, followed by a hailstorm of debris that peppered the hull.
"What happened?" Sabad cried out from the deck.
Crais pulled himself to his feet and saw Toma rush to help the old man. Mira DuSett was squatted in the corner, arms wrapped around her daughters. Her eyes told him she knew her son was gone.
"The Cruiser has sustained heavy damage."
Ahead, the Draegen ship dangled in a slow, lazy spiral as though suspended by a line from its bow. Scans verified its propulsion and weapon systems were inoperative. The temperature inside the hull registered at two thousand klances.
"Flames from the explosion apparently spread through the ventilation system. A large part of the ship is on fire."
"Serves them swivelheads right," Sabad grunted. "Are we in the clear yet?"
Crais weighed the data on screen and gave his head a solemn shake. "I believe we are safe from any further ships that might be dispatched from Draegen; however, the Firebugs will still overtake us before we reach Tarn airspace."
He felt Toma's hand curl around his arm. He placed a hand over hers, his eyes never leaving the screen. The Astras had managed to temporarily divert the enemy squadrons, yet their time was about to run out as well. As he stared at the monitor, the distance separating the twelve fighters from the Firebugs continued to narrow until the two forces made contact. The Astras vanished.
"Did you see what Nimm done?" Tenis Dauscho blurted over the comm.
"We saw it," Crais replied, his tone low, strained. "His mother saw it and his sisters saw it."
The comm fell silent. Before Dauscho could respond, Crais opened a channel to all ships.
"Our military support is gone." His voice stalled. "They served us well. We are within an arn of Tarn airspace, soon to be overtaken by a sizeable enemy force. We have no choice but to continue on the path we have chosen. Maintain your present course at maximum speed. Begin evasive maneuvers on my command."
Several ships hailed to report they had decided to take their chances alone. Others simply left, all single passenger vessels. It made no difference. Crais knew they would only survive if the Draegen *let* them go. Considering the burnt out hull of the Cruiser and its incinerated crew they left behind, he doubted that would happen.
Sabad's ancient shell had not fared well in the turbulence. He sat on the deck, curled forward, favoring his right arm, which Crais suspected was broken. "How close is it gonna be?"
"I believe that at least some of the ships will still reach Tarn airspace."
The old man nodded feebly, narrowing his eyes questioningly at Toma. "What happened to your brother?"
She looked to Crais for the answer.
"He took Tenis Dauscho's place in the Astra."
"And that is why he wanted me to go with you instead of on the airbus?" she asked.
He considered his answer carefully. "Only partially."
"Did you know?"
"I should have," Crais replied with obvious regret. "He told me that perhaps this day he would find redemption. I realize only now what he meant."
Toma fixed her eyes on nothing in particular, nodding.
"If any of us makes it, Ke'air's one of 'em we got to thank for it," Sabad said. "I figure that's redemption enough for any man."
Crais slipped his arm around Toma's waist and took her aside, seeking out what limited privacy the transport had to offer. She buried her face in his shoulder and shook with muffled sobs, quietly repeating her brother's name. A stranger to giving comfort, he held her for what brief time remained them and then placed his hands on her arms, separating her from him. She sniffed and brushed away tears before meeting his gaze. His faint smile acknowledged what she used her eyes to say.
"Stay with the others," he said, touching her face. "Try to keep them calm and quiet."
Toma knew him well enough to understand that this was all he was capable of giving. She nodded and went after the medical kit to treat Sabad's injuries.
With unobstructed space in front of him, Crais believed there was still a chance he could make it. Staying no longer served a purpose; they were on course, the distress beacons sent. Although it made sense to go, the thought of deserting the Tah soured his stomach and coated his mouth with a bitter taste of indecision. Perhaps it was because Crichton and the others had always doubted him, or in truth because he had doubted himself. Despite Dam Ba Da and the command carrier, they would still doubt him. They would *always* doubt him. Only the Tah had believed. Even Ke'air Masahje, who knew the truth, trusted him with his sister's life.
"They have dispatched squadrons to flank us," he reported.
"Too bad we don't have a few more Hawks to give 'em a bloody nose," Sabad muttered.
Crais raised a brow in consideration of the statement. He pivoted, chin raised, chest puffed out, and switched open a visual channel to their attackers. "Draegen strike force, this is Captain Bialar Crais . . . Peacekeeper. I warn you to discontinue your pursuit. Any act of aggression will result in your destruction. Your cruiser failed to heed my warning. I strongly suggest you do not make the same mistake."
He severed the channel and gave Sabad a speculative glance.
"Has that ever worked?" he asked.
Before Crais could respond, a second voice sounded. "Draegen vessels, this is Tenis Dauscho, soldier of Tah. Withdraw your ships . . . or else . . . we will . . . attack!"
"He gets that from his father," Sabad said with a wry grin. "Have they turned tail yet?"
"They are maintaining their distance. It appears they are assessing the threat."
Every microt counted now. A quarter of an arn separated them from the buffer zone, a slender neutral strip that separated Draegen and Tarn airspace. It was only a quarter of an arn, but it might as well have been a cycle. Plus, there was still no assurance that the Draegen would break off their attack once they reached it.
As he expected, twenty of the Firebugs separated from the main force and resumed their approach, exactly the tactic he would have ordered. Believing it would serve no purpose for the others to hear the transmissions from this point on, he attached a comm chip alongside his ear and gave the signal to begin evasive maneuvers. He had plotted the defensive flight patterns based on vids of the past Draegen attacks available to him. A different *look* might throw them off for a while, yet with so much to shoot at, it would only postpone the inevitable.
The Firebugs came straight at them from the rear. The first shot hit a nectar transport that carried twenty people. The patterns helped somewhat, but the Tah ships were too slow to outmaneuver the fighters for long. One after another, the Draegens found their target. It was eerily quiet, the explosions, the turbulence and the debris not obvious to the greater part of the fleet. Several Tah pilots hailed to report they were under attack, others went to their death without a word. A merchant transport armed with pulse cannons to deter pirates damaged one Firebug prior to being destroyed, but it was too little, too late.
The main Draegen force moved in. At first they picked off the slower vessels that lagged behind. When the threatened retaliation failed to materialize they went straight for the heart, a dozen squadrons slicing forward into the belly of the fleet. Crais stared helplessly at the small dots of light on the screen . . . men, women, children, there one moment, gone the next. No cries for help. No screams. They simply disappeared.
The Tah ships had spread out, zigging and zagging to avoid the swarming Firebugs. He smacked the counter with his palm, slid behind the controls and flicked the switch to manual. By cholak, he intended to make them work for it.
"Those buzzards coming?" Sabad asked.
"It has begun," Crais replied, turning back to catch Toma's eye. She tried to smile and he did the same. "Hold on. This is likely to be a rough ride."
He arced the pod and darted directly in the path of a Firebug bearing down to intercept Dauscho in the airbus. Startled by the bold maneuver, the Draegen pilot veered off, but quickly resumed pursuit of the pod. One on one, the Draegen was no match for him. He banked, rolled and lured the Firebug into open space. Two other fighters joined the pursuit. For one brief moment he felt as one with the Leviathan again. Rolling, banking, diving . . . he was no longer the pilot, but the ship.
A close miss jostled the pod and filled the view screen with a brilliant, blinding light. The pod lurched violently and the deck dropped from beneath his feet. A loud, angry groan of metal chorused the girls' screams. This was the end, he thought.
He gathered a desperate breath, choking on the smoke and stench of fried circuits, and pulled himself up alongside the panel. Incredibly, the Firebugs had ceased firing. For a moment his face fell slack, but then suddenly creased and reddened with rage.
"Damn you!" Crais shouted, slamming a fist on the panel again, then again. "Damn you to the eternal dark pit from where you came!"
Toma staggered over, covering her mouth, coughing.
"They've cut us off . . . moved fifty ships just this side of the buffer zone." Crais blurted. "They do not intend to let us leave this place alive. It is over."
"Give them an order," she gasped.
"There are no orders left to give," he snarled. "We have *nothing* left to fight with, *nowhere* left to run. We are finished.
Toma grabbed hold of his shirt and screamed in his face. "Give . . . them . . . an . . . order."
He stared at her, wide-eyed. She released his shirt and slid her hands up onto his shoulders. He steadied himself with a breath and nodded.
"Remain on course. Keep going," he said resolutely over the comm.
She relaxed against his chest and he folded his arms around her, his cheek rested against her head, eyes closed.
Static crackled in response. " . . . Tarn . . . airspace . . . met with force . . ."
"Why don't they finish us?" Sabad asked.
Tenis Dausche hailed from the airbus. "Shouldn't we answer them?"
Crais turned his attention back to the monitor. The line of ships ahead remained stationary, a line drawn in the sand that they were being dared to cross. He magnified the image and for an instant went slack-jawed.
Prowlers.
" . . . Tah civilian ships . . . violation of . . . airspace . . . "
Crais shot Sabad a bewildered look. "They're Prowlers."
"They here to let us in or to keep us out?"
"We are unarmed. We request asylum," Crais blurted. "Acknowledge."
Behind them the Firebugs continued their attack the main body of the civilian fleet, their fire concentrated on the trailing vessels.
" . . . any violation of Tarn airspace . . . act of aggression . . . met with force."
"These are civilians, unarmed civilians. Acknowledge . . . please."
Crais locked on to the transmission and boosted the signal until he made out the brief recorded message that played over and over. " . . . any violation of Tarn airspace will be considered an act of aggression and will be met with force. The government of Tarn grants asylum to Tah civilian vessels. Draegen forces, any violation of Tarn airspace will be considered an act of aggression and will be met with force. The government of Tarn grants asylum . . . "
# # #
The Tarn landing coordinates situated them in a valley of rolling green grassland, barren in contrast to the lofty domed trees of Tah. Crais had landed the pod on a small rise where the following day the Elders of Tah and representatives of the Tarn government were scheduled to meet.
Whether deterred by the Prowlers or by their own nature, the Draegen had aborted their attack at the buffer zone.
The ship-to-ship channels were clear now, two arns already passed since the last vessel landed. With the help of Trinn and Shaya DuSett, Elay Sabad located Crais on a bluff overlooking the makeshift landing pad. The old man found a seat and waved the girls back to the transport. The Sebacean continued to stare solemnly at the activity below, mindful of the Elder's presence, but unwilling to share his thoughts.
"We figure this is all that made it," Sabad finally offered.
Crais glanced over and nodded.
"Better'n we thought. Almost two hundred thousand people."
Again, a nod, but this time he continued to gaze vacantly at the venue below.
"That's more than we ever could'a hoped for."
He tilted his head and gave the old man a curious look. "You could have hoped to prevent it from happening in the first place."
"Coulda, woulda, shoulda," Sabad replied with a mirthless grin. "We don't choose the path, son, only the side of it we're gonna walk on."
Crais seemed to consider what he said. "Your family?"
With lips clenched, he gave his head a slight shake. "Grett and Rhee were aboard the tanker. Tenis told me it took a direct hit . . . tak. Never knew what hit 'em."
"Kristop's ship?" Crais' eyes clouded at the news. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"I got three grandchildren on that airbus that made it though, two nephews and a cousin."
"That is something to be grateful for."
The Elder nodded. "Where's that gal of yours?"
The words caught him off guard. It had been a long time since he considered himself a part of someone else's life. "She and Mira went down to help with the injured, an effort I should probably join them in." He started toward Sabad. "I'll assist you back inside the transport."
"No, you go ahead. I can comm the gals to come get me when I'm ready. Doubt that any of us will be gettin' much sleep tonight."
Crais had already turned to leave when the old man spoke again, "Thank you for what you done."
His impeccable posture shifted uncomfortably. "Good night, Elder."
On the valley floor, tents began to spring up amid the odd assemblage of ships, their brilliant domed canopies muted in the fleeting daylight. Despite the day's events, there was order, people moving about with quiet purpose. He chose his footing carefully on the uneven, dirt path and reflected on Sabad's words. What he thought had been a detour was really only the final leg of the journey, one that began not at the command carrier, but fifty cycles earlier. It seemed there would be a tomorrow after all. Bialar Crais did not know what the future held for him, yet as he made his way down the hillside to find Toma, he felt that he had finally found his direction.
Forward.