Stargazers: Canaan's Orbit

 Canaan’s Orbit

            Daedalus appears out of dive-space in a flash.  Reality undulates around it in waves of rubbery light that slowly return to fade.  The ship glides smoothly into Canaan’s orbit, matching the planet’s rotation and floating within its gravity.  Captain LeGuin, a tall, broadly built man moving into middle age, stands still, staring out at the planet with an immovable calm.  He has his arms folded behind him, his back straight, and his cap resting perfectly on his head.

            The ship’s pilot looks back at him.  “In orbit, sir, but no responses to our hails.”

            “Anything from our scans?”

            “Facility is dark, sir,” says the navigator.  “But we are picking up a ship in orbit.  It is leaving the atmosphere right now.”

            “Hail the ship,” says Captain LeGuin.  “And follow at a distance.  Get word to Lt. Guinevere.  We will need to be ready, in case things go south.”

            The Comm. Officer salutes and returns to the operations board.

            LeGuin walks forward, running his hand along the rail support.  A raised platform in the center of the helm allows him a view of all operations around him.  From where he stands, he can also see a clear view of Canaan, its surface a gleaming bronze with small, swirling clouds like smeared whip cream.  In the distance, a dark speck floats slowly into and then out of view.

            Daedalus turns, effortlessly, and follows the speck.

            “Sir, they are not responding to our hail,” says the Comm. Officer.  After a prolonged silence, she adds, “I’ve issued them our credentials and requested they halt.”

            “Sir, there are warp distortions,” says the Navigator.  “They are preparing for dive.”

            “I see,” says the captain.  “And how far out are they?”

            The pilot checks her mechanisms and gives a solemn glance back at the captain.  “Too far to catch them before dive, sir.”

            LeGuin frowns.

            “There could be survivors on the surface, sir, and even if we make chase, they’re out of range for our cannons to do any significant damage before they escape,” says the pilot.  She looks ahead again and fixes her hands around the ship’s controls.  “Sir, should we make chase or land?”

            LeGuin rubs his mustache and clears his throat.  “Page all of the armor pilots to the armor bay and call the Lieutenant to the bridge.  We’ll send armors to the surface to check for survivors and make pursuit as far as we can.”

            The bridge’s crew salutes.  “Sir!”  Then, they go about their various tasks.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Chastity and Arthur are left floating in a cold, steel room.  Arthur is bound and was unconscious for a time.  When he wakes, he complains of a headache and sits up stiffly, now held to the ship by manufactured gravity.  They make sullen eye contact and have little time to themselves before the door slides open and their captor steps in.

            He is still wearing his battle gear, though he now wears his goggles up.  His blade is out, unfolded, and he is cleaning it with a rag in one hand.  Two guards follow him in.  They are wearing a form of black military uniforms, and both carry pistols on their hips and have batons out.

            At their entrance, Chastity shuffles back against the wall.  Arthur stands to meet them, but the guards meet him first.  They push him down into a seated position on the bed, and he offers only a glare in return.

            Their captor, who is clearly the leader, surveys them calmly.  Then, he returns his focus to the blade in his hands.  He is smiling beneath his mask, and it can be heard in his voice.  “I see that you’ve collected yourself, girl.  That is good, because we have much to discuss.”

            Chastity grabs her pants tightly in her hands, holding the fabric knotted between her fingers.  She stares over the man, past him.  The guards might not even exist to her, but he does.  Periodically, she looks at him.  Periodically, she looks at the blade in his hand.

            “The robot—a Guide, isn’t it?  We took it, too, but it’s asleep, inert, and we want to know why.  And you,” he tilts his blade toward her, points with the sharpened tip of it, “are the only one who knows how to make it work.”

            “I don’t know,” Chastity says, quickly.  “We ran the code, over and over again, but we never figured out...”

            “I’m sorry, but that doesn’t sound like the right answer.”  He stares her in the eyes.  “Why don’t you come forward and speak a little more clearly?”

            Chastity gasps, chokes, as one of the guards approaches her.  She curls her legs up to her chest, screams as she retreats.  Hearing her, Arthur stands again to intercept for her, but this time he is stopped with a baton to the knee.  He falls to kneeling before being struck again, in the back this time.

            He falls flat onto the floor.  A spark of electricity sounds through the room.  Face-down, the electrified head of the baton is put to his back, between his shoulder blades, and his body jumps in response.  The second guard joins him, pressing his baton only a few inches away.  Both hold them there until Arthur goes quiet.

            Chastity screams and presses hard against the wall. One of the guards flips Arthur over, onto his back, and then drags him away and to another wall.  The other guard grabs Chastity by the leg and drags her toward the doorway.  She cries, ineffectually, on the way.

            Their leader approaches her and kneels beside her.  He cups her chin with his free hand.  His other hand is fitted, tightly, about the hilt of his weapon.  The blade rests on his knee.  “Now, you shush and listen.  What is your name, girl?”

            “Chastity.  Chastity,” she hiccups and sobs, “Clarke.”

            “I see.  And you’re a doctor, Chastity Clarke?”

            She nods.

            “Good.  Then I want you to stop crying and act like one.  And if you don’t, well,” he pauses, thoughtfully, and then chuckles.  “Well, I’ll make sure to give you something to cry about.  I will beat you, and break you, and rape you until you are so empty inside that nothing else will hurt you again.  Do you want that?”

            Holding her breath, afraid to sob, to gasp, she shakes her head.

            “Then,” he nods toward Arthur, “I’ll have him killed in front of you, just so you have no hope at all, just so you understand how little power you really have.”  He keeps holding her, his hand moving around her neck.  She has stopped crying.  “Good job.  Now, I want you to tell me how to turn the Guide on.  I want you to tell me how to control her.  I want you to tell me anything and everything you know about her.

            “I told you, I don’t know how...”

            He strikes her across the face with his open palm.  It hurts, and it shames, and she has to wipe her eyes and look away before he realizes that she is crying again.

            His hand tightens around her throat.  “Answer me.”  He speaks calmly, without rage or regret, without anything at all.

            “I’m trying to answer you,” she says, calmly and with precision.  “We didn’t know anything.  We just...”

            He stands now and kicks her hard in the stomach.  She doubles over, holding her midsection, coughing and crying again.

            “Don’t you dare start crying again,” he screams, and he stabs downward with his sword, the sharpened end of it planting into the cold steel beside her.

            She goes quiet.  They make eye contact.

            “And don’t you dare keep lying.”

            “I-I’m not lying!”  It hurts to speak.  Her stomach feels like a hot ball of lead was dropped into it, and her jaw is swollen and numb.  Everywhere else, the pain wis spreading, moving through her like sickness.  “Please, you have to believe...”

            “I have to?”  He grabs her by the hair throws her across the floor.  She stops against the door.  “I don’t have to do anything but get information from you.  You’re supposed to be a genius, aren’t you?  Then, why can’t you figure this out?”  He pins her to the wall with his foot, pressing hard on her chest and forcing the air from her.  The more he leans on her, the harder it is for her to breathe.  “Now, talk.”

            “I don’t know anything!”

            The man breathes, deeply.  “I see.  Then,” he lifts the blade, looking at it gleaming in the light.  “Then you know what that means, don’t you?”

            She nods, holding back tears.  In the back of her head, she remembers Cipher, crumbling, fading away inside of her.  Soon, she will follow him, too, and even after experiencing his death firsthand, she is still scared.  She knows, in the core of who she is, that she doesn’t want to die.

            He clicks his tongue.  “Never can be too sure, though.”  He lifts the sword, rests it on his shoulder, and he removes his foot from her chest.  “Boys.”

            The guards lift Arthur up and turn him to face Chastity.  He is dazed.  Drools runs from his lips.  Their leader grabs Chastity by the neck and tosses her forward.  She stops just in front of Arthur, staring up at him.

            The man passes her and rests his sword against Arthur’s shoulder, blade down and angled for his neck.  “Tell me, then, what part would you like, first?”

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Daedalus skims the atmosphere on its way to intercept Paris.  On the way, as it rides the edge of the atmosphere, it opens its bay.  Three Gigas Armors slide from the bay, two Hunter armors equipped with back-mounted Pegasus Rockets for flight, and the third an experimental armor named Mercury.  The three, Mercury leading, slip away from Daedalus and descend toward the planet’s surface.

            Captain LeGuin watches silently from the bridge.  The ship rattles as it pulls from the atmosphere and back out into open space.  Ahead, he watches the rear of Paris continuing to break away, nearing the departure of the planet’s gravity.

            The pilot fixes Daedalus’ trajectory toward Paris and looks back at LeGuin.  “Sir, I’m sorry to say, but the ship is too far ahead.  Even if we burn hot, we won’t be able to meet them before they leave Canaan’s gravity well.  We might not even be able to follow their trail.”

            LeGuin frowns.  “Can we enter range to fire, at least?”

            “Not in time,” says the navigator.  She punches in a few numbers and meets his gaze.  “We’re too far out of range.  Even if we try to lead them, the projectiles wouldn’t reach them in time.  Laser weaponry would diffuse.”  She checks the screen again and frowns.  “I’m sorry, sir, but nothing would land with enough impact to give them pause.”

            LeGuin rubs his mustache and leans onto the handrail.  He stares at Paris.

            “Sir, we’re getting a transmission from Mercury,” the Comm. Officer interrupts.

            LeGuin sighs and stands straight, joining his hands behind his back.  “I see.  Put her through.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            A brief hiss of static, and then Guinevere’s voice comes through the bridge speakers. “Captain, Guinevere.”

            “Yes, Lieutenant?”

            “Our scans indicate no life remaining in the base.  It’s been scorched.”

            LeGuin’s frown deepens.  “I see.”

            “We need to catch the ship, sir.  The Hunters can handle ground recon.  I should take Mercury to intercept the enemy.”

            “Lieutenant, Mercury isn’t even cleared for battle testing yet.  The armor is too light.  We’re trying to test the balance and...”

            “Sir, the test-model is equipped with two hard-light blades.  Their ship is small; it can’t have more than three armors on board.  I may not be able to capture the ship, but I can easily slow it down long enough for you to get a shot in.”

            “I don’t like this, Lieutenant.”

            “Then you shouldn’t have let me take it out in the first place,” Guinever says.  The crew smiles.  She adds, a second later, “Captain.”

            Hiding his own grin, LeGuin rubs his mustache again, frowning carefully as he does.  “Fine,” he says.  “Lieutenant, I’m trusting you.”

            “Sir.”

            LeGuin looks at the Comm. Officer.  “Put me out to the entire crew,” he says, and once given the go ahead, he speaks.  “Everyone, we’re going to be entering ship-to-ship combat.  Our two Hunter armors are to remain on the surface and search for survivors or information.  Mercury will intercept the enemy ship and prevent them from making dive for as long as possible.  Let’s be safe, and let’s see this done.  Captain LeGuin out.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Lancelot watches her expectantly, his blade resting still on Arthur’s shoulder.  Arthur’s head is down.  Blood pools beneath Arthur, soaking into his pants, clinging to his knees and his boots.  Lancelot reaches down, grabs Arthur by the hair and lifts his face to show Chastity the shallow cuts left there.

            “This is just the beginning,” Lancelot says, venom in his voice.  “Listen and understand the severity of your situation.  Nothing I’ve said is an idle threat.  I will do anything I have to, everything I have to, and I will not regret it.”

            “I-I understand,” Chastity says quickly, her voice choked.  Tears run down her cheeks.

            “Clearly, you do not, because you are still crying.”  He drops Arthur’s head, stomps across the room to grab her by the neck.  “You’re a specialist, brought in to understand that thing in there.  That was your job, your only job, and you’re telling me you know nothing.”  He throws her into the wall and then kneels.  “You’re lying,” he says, pinning her to the door with one hand against her sternum.  “So, listen.  Watch and understand how desperate your situation truly is.”

            Lancelot reaches back and unclips his helmet. He lifts it, smoothly, from his head and lets his long, dark hair cascade down his shoulders and back.  Dropping the helmet there, he turns to Arthur again and paces slowly toward him.

            “Lift him.  Let him see.”

            One guard grips Arthur by the hair and lifts his head.  At first, Arthur winces, but when he sees Lancelot’s face, his brow knits, and his breath catches.  “You.”  His voice is barely a whisper, and he goes limp in the guard’s arms.  “You!”  He wrestles now and ends up pinned to the floor.

            Lancelot smiles, and he turns to face Chastity.  He looks nothing like she expected.  His face is thin, angular, even pretty.  His cheeks are high, his lips thin, and his eyes a vibrant, yellowish green.  He is not scowling anymore, but smiling a feral, hungry smile.  To her, he appears like a wolf on the hunt.  “Now, Jameson, go ahead and tell her who I am.”

            Arthur growls, pushing himself up with his neck.  The guards pin him to the ground again, using their knees to hold him by the back.

            “Tell her what I will do to her.  Tell her that I will get my information one way or another.”

            “She doesn’t know anything,” Arthur shouts, cheek flat against the cold floor.  “Please, Lancelot, she doesn’t know anything!”

            The ship shudders and the guards lose their grip, catching on the walls to steady themselves.  Chastity rolls into a nearby wall.  Lancelot remains stable, widening his stance and turning toward a communication board.  One guard has already made his way there.  The other has Arthur pinned again.

            The bridge comes in, panicked and breathless.  “Sir, we’re under attack.  An unidentified ship is following us, and they’re released an armor, type unknown.”

            “A single armor?  Then raise ships and return fire.”

            “We’re trying, sir, but it’s fast, faster than anything we can follow. It’s impossible to get a lock.”

            “Of course,” Lancelot growls, his face tight.  It sharpens his features, makes him look more lupine.  He trades glances between the guards and the prisoners, and then he hits the wall hard enough to leave the steel warped.  “I’ll be there soon.”  He looks to the guards again.  “You two, outside.  Lock the door.  I will come back to finish this later.”

            Before he leaves, he stops to look at Chastity, sobbing against the wall, and he growls.  “And you better be ready to talk, then, girl, or I will make it hurt in ways you cannot even comprehend.”

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Guinvere tilts the controls and Mercury follows suit, spiraling about and flying literal circles around Paris.  Magnified shells hurtled past, meant for where she is and hitting only where she was.  Mercury dips and pivots around, moving in close and touching now beside a turret long enough to slice it open with one of its arm-mounted hardened light blades.

 The Mercury armor is a prototype Gigas Armor designed and manufactured by Haze Industries specifically for the Olympic Republic.  It is meant to be mass produced into a line of high-speed Armors, meant for intercepting enemies quickly and particularly engaging enemy spaceships.

            Right now, the armor sports a thin, sleek frame and a brand new, top of the line, prototype rocket called a Hermes Rocket.  At fifty percent capacity, it can move five times the speed of the most powerful Pegasus Rockets, which are standard on all ships and armors.

            Guinevere pulls Mercury up beside Paris and draws a long, smoldering wound across her starboard hall.  Chunks of armor plating disconnect, floating off into spaces.  Parts of the interior hall are exposed in thin strips.

            She pulls forward and directs herself to the front of Paris, following its shifting trajectory.  So long as she stays in range, she can keep them from performing dive.  Piloting a prototype, she has little in the ways of weaponry and cannot single-handedly stop Paris forever, but she can hope to stall them long enough for Daedalus to move into firing range.

            Right now, Guinevere is running the Mercury at fifty-nine percent its maximum speed.  The thrust forces her hard into her seat.  She was chosen specifically from a long list of candidates to test the model, even before she was forced to undergo rigorous G-force training to endure the speeds the Mercury can reach.

            Tilting down, she moves under enemy fire and makes another swipe, slicing a turret off and rendering it ineffectual.

            Paris opens it docking bay in the stern of the ship and launches two Gigas Armors.  They are smaller units, similar to the Olympic Hunter armors in Guinevere opinion.  This makes them ranged units, though she cannot say for certain.  The armors themselves are different from the traditional Hunter model.

            She closes distance between them quickly and, with one smooth push, drives a hardened light blade through one armor’s helm.  The optics shatter in a glittering display of broken lenses and electric sparks.  A small plume of smoke radiates from the fried sensors.

            The other, she kicks from the ship, dislodging it and letting it float away before she lands inside of the docking bay.  Four other armors sit in the bay, one of which is a unique armor entirely different from anything she recognizes.  It is a large, black armor with a thin, metal protrusion, like a lance, built onto its left arm.

            The second Hunter unit returns, now sporting its own hardened light blade.  It drops and swipes, but she sidesteps and turns to puncture its chest piece, and the pilot, in the process.  This time, when she removes the armor from her blade, it floats back silently.

            Her comms buzz.  “Lieutenant, report.”

            “Sir, I’ve boarded the enemy ship, in the armor bay, and am holding position.”

            “Boarded?  How in the world did you manage that,” LeGuin says.  “They’d be crazy to jump with an enemy armor on board.  Be careful but hold position.”

            “Will do, sir.”

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Lancelot enters the bridge and tosses his helmet to his XO.  The entire room sits quietly, waiting in fear for Lancelot to speak.  He stops at an upper platform, where his captain’s chair is, and rests his hands on the guard rail there.  “Status report!”

            The XO jumps forward.  He moves quickly, stopping just short of joining Lancelot on the platform, and he holds the helm firmly under his right arm.  “An unidentified Gigas Armor is attacking us, sir.”

            Lancelot casts him a glare.  “A single armor?”

            The XO swallows thickly.  “Yes, sir.  It’s fast, too fast for our targeting programs.  We sent two armors to deal with it, but...”

            Lancelot sighs heavily and then punches the railing, leaving the shape of his knuckles indented in it.  After another deep breath, he growls.  “But?”

            “The enemy armor has already dealt with them, sir.”

            “What is it using for weapons?  Can you at least tell me that?”

            “Arm-mounted hardened-light blades, sir.  Two of them.”

            Lancelot’s face tightens.  “And that’s all?”

            The XO nods.

            “One armor, and without proper weaponry, and it’s causing you this much trouble?”  He stands tall now and stares down his XO.  “Anything else to tell me?”

            “I-It has taken the hangar, s-sir.  We—We can’t make dive...”

            “Why didn’t you start with that?!”

            “Sir, I’m sorry...”

            Lancelot yanks the helm from his hands and shoves the XO away, into a nearby console.  “Keep the yggdrasil engine primed.  We’ll be diving soon.”

            “But, sir...”

            “But nothing, officer.”  Lancelot bunches his hair quickly and jerks his helm on.  He looks back at the officer, at the entire bridge, and pauses there.  “Keep the hangar doors open.  I will handle this myself.”  He draws his blade, clicking it open and letting it unfold with a series of snaps.  “And when I am done there, we will have a conversation with proper battle protocol.”

            With that, Lancelot leaves the room and hurries toward the hangar.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Guinevere uses her light blades to sever walkways and dismantle armors.  Debris floats around her in open space.

            The bay door opens and a man wearing an airtight flight suit and helmet enters.  He carries, over his shoulder, a missile launcher.  When he enters the bay, he levels the missile launcher and fires. 

            Guinevere lifts Merucry’s left arm and activates her harden-light shield.  A small panel of light, hexagonal in shape, appears before the armor, projected by a spinning dome-like projector.  The rocket erupts on impact, filling the room with smoke and flame.  Through the haze, she can see the lone figure still there.  He produces a metal shaft, which unfolds into a long, thin blade, and he charges.

            “You’re really going to fight me hand-to-hand while I’m in a Gigas?  You’re insane!”  Disabling the shield, Guinevere flips her light-blades on and lunges forward.  Her enemy sidesteps smoothly, dragging his blade across the Mercury’s arm and leaving a shallow incision just deep enough to severe the wiring inside. The light-blade flickers and fades.

            Mercury was designed for mobility above all else.  Attacks are meant to be evaded, not stopped, which keeps the armor thin.  Trapped in the armor bay like she is, however, the Mercury’s speed doesn’t serve Guinevere at all.  She tries to back up but finds herself at the back of the bay.

            Somehow, this man is faster than her and more agile.  He uses the armor to his advantage, attacking from angles to narrow for her to block, leaving cuts along the armor’s legs and torso.  Once behind her, the man does a flip off of the wall and lands on the armor’s back, stabbing into the cockpit.

            The blade enters just beside her, narrowly missing her head.  It parts the monitor in front of her, leaving it to spark and smoke.  She reaches back for him with the armor’s right arm but finds its functions minimal.  Checking the damage report shows a black screen—nothing.

            The man leaps from again.  She can see him standing in the armor bay, holding tightly to a material pallet that is bolted to the door.  Her sensors wail as the gravity dies and, through a broken screen, she watches his body drift up.  The armor bay opens, expelling her in the process.  She watches, through her broken screens, as the Mercury drifts, tipping and turning and, in stolen, brief glances, the enemy ship, Paris, disappearing into a distortion in space.

            Guinevere screams.  A monitor beside her sets off a warning.  The cockpit is leaking air.  After a few calming breaths, she initiates her comms.  “Daedalus, this is Lt. Guinevere.  The target has escaped.  I repeat, the target has escaped.”

            There is a pause.  Then, the operator says.  “Understood, Lt.  What is your status?”

            “Stranded with cockpit damage and exposure.  Requesting an immediate pick up.”  She reaches for her keyboard and finds it rent.  “Internal damage is severe.  I cannot activate a beacon.  Requesting a search.”

            “Understood, Lt., and granted.  The Captain is curious as to your status, Lt.”

            “Pissed off.”

            Another pause.  “I will pass that along.  See you soon.”

            The comm dies.  Guinevere rests back, breathing slowly to preserve her air.  She keeps her eyes closed and feels the armor, spinning, drifting, in the black.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Lancelot rests on his back, staring up at the closed armor bay ceiling.  He is more winded than injured, but the landing did leave an ache in his back, and the decompression strained the tender muscles in his left shoulder.  Two soldiers enter the bay, leading a physician with them.

            Lancelot stands and shoves past them.  “Return to your posts.  You’re not needed.”

            He marches from his room and removes his helm on the way.  By the time he reaches the bridge he has his helmet tucked under his arm.  Upon entering, he tosses the helm to his XO, who catches it clumsily, and Lancelot barks, “Report!”

            “A-All turrets have been rendered inert,” his XO says quickly, following Lancelot around the bridge.  He watches Lancelot checking meters on his own and continues stammering, “We’ve lost three armors four armors altogether.  The ships thrusters have suffered minor damage.  Two rockets are operating at seventy-five percent, and the armor plating on both starboard and port sides have suffered medium lacerations, though the hull is mostly intact.”

            Lancelot leans over one of the operators.  The bridge has its visor down, eliminating visual information on the outside world while they are in sub-space dive.  “Are there any docks on the way?”

            The XO looks toward the navigator, who sits up straight.  “We can hit Charon Station, sir,” she says quickly. “It is neutral territory.”

            “One of the few places,” Lancelot says.  He stands straight and rubs his chin.  “It will slow us down, but we need to at least get the turrets functioning again.”  He nods. “Leave dive and divert toward Charon.  Send a report to Troy updating them of our status.  We can rest there at least long enough to let the trail dissipate.  I doubt they’ll give chase, but if they should, it’s better to lead them there than home.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “Sir,” the XO says, earning a glare from Lancelot.  The XO flinches.  “W-What of the prisoners?”

            Lancelot grows a thin, vicious smile.  It is almost wolf-like, the way it shows his teeth.  “For now, we let them sit.  We’ll get what we want from them, and if not, then there’s always the airlock.  We’ve got the Guide, and that’s all that really matters.”