Shipborn Read online

  Madias was about to reply but then took the advice.

  A harsh beep sounded. Erryn took evasive action, narrowly

  avoiding the missile that ended up pounding into a derelict, sending

  it pummelling into an asteroid.

  Turbulence. Erryn could handle it. This was her domain. She just

  hoped the less experienced crewmembers had strapped themselves

  in. Small kinetics hit the vessel. The deflectors protected the hull but

  the force shook them. Erryn spotted an opening. More beeps. Too

  many indicators. Too many missiles. The opening was a small gap

  in the side of a corvette derelict. No room to evade. Erryn gritted

  her teeth and then locked in the sub-light boosters. They shot

  forward, with Erryn rolling at the last moment through the hole.

  The beeping stopped. Erryn imagined booms as the missiles hit the

  derelict, but knew there was no sound in space.

  Madias stood as they stabilised and then vomited all over the

  floor. Erryn tossed her a cloth, which she had just used to clean the

  gravy off the windscreen. Madias wiped her mouth.

  ‘What in the void was that, Pilot?’

  ‘Reason I didn’t need the Armada Academy, cap’n.’

  ‘I could have died.’

  ‘We all could’ve. We didn’t. You can thank me later.’

  ‘Thank you? When Titan gets this ship, I’m going to be filing for

  your dismissal.’

  ‘I am the Kolheim.’

  ‘You’re a flunky frigate pilot.’

  ‘This ain’t a sore spot, Gabby. I quit the academy. I didn’t need

  them. They’re a bunch of dirt-birthers thinkin’ they own the sky. I

  was born in space. I know this vessel and this void better than you

  ever will. Titan can’t fire me and keep Kolheim. I am Kolheim.’

  ‘Ladies…’

  Both heads swivelled to Barry, whose dark face seemed as pale

  as a sheet. He pointed at the windscreen.

  Pegg ships, looking like hungry lizards, were blinking in, forming

  a grid around the outskirts of the gravity well. Flashes and

  silhouettes hardened, revealing more and more ships.

  Silence. Time froze.

  Then they fired.

  Erryn smacked the steering stick as hard as she could. The

  torpedo hit the Kolheim’s wing but not the cockpit. She looped, the

  jolt sending both Madias and Barry flying.

  ‘Get us out of here!’ Madias screamed.

  Erryn grunted.

  More torpedoes flew, forming a bouquet of flaming steel

  speeding through the black. Erryn was unable to enjoy the spectacle.

  She jinked a hard right but then took a nosedive. She couldn’t risk

  exposing their broadside. In front of them was black. Only the specs

  of foreign galaxies ahead. No haven that way. The Pegg knew this.

  Only one way to go. Time to swim downstream.

  A Pegg skiff came upon her broadside. She could practically

  smell them. She remembered their smells, vividly. Burnt pork. A

  hint of iron. They didn’t smell of ship grease. They weren’t like her.

  They shared space, but it belonged to only one of them. She was

  going to be sure it was her. She twisted the control sticks sharply to

  the side, catching the skiff by surprise and crushing it into a derelict.

  Fire was left in the Kolheim’s wake as it strafed across the rim of

  the broken Armada cluster. Torpedoes pummelled their shadow.

  Pegg were not the best at bombardment, but that wasn’t the reason

  for their misses. Erryn was the Kolheim. No pilot could compare to

  her. They were merely flying their ships. She was living it. The

  fuselage was her arteries, the fuel, her blood. This ship was her

  everything. Every twitch of her wrist, every breath, every spasm, was

  translated seamlessly into being one with this vessel.

  With inhuman precision, she turned the colossal ship through

  the crack in a derelict. Twin skiffs followed in her wake. She

  boosted, releasing flames that scorched the front skiff and collapsed

  the hole in the derelict into floating shrapnel. A corvette from above

  let out a wail. There was no sound in space, but Pegg loved hacking

  into the intercoms of ships. This wail was followed by fire.

  Countless missiles rained down, illuminating the shadowed

  labyrinth.

  Erryn’s hands cramped from the movements, but she could take

  it. With a free hand, she tightened her hand wraps. Then with her

  right, she clutched the throttle and boosted. Missiles followed,

  dancing around debris. Weapon plats opened fire. Pegg ships

  eliminated them with ease. Explosions of varying colours dotted

  either flank. The Kolheim shook. Erryn guessed this is what frontier

  earthquakes must feel like.

  ‘Engine output failing! Team to engine Alpha,’ Barry announced,

  taking his role of co-pilot.

  Somewhere in the vessel, the technicians would be wearing grav

  boots for added artificial gravity, and would be speeding as fast as

  they could with their weighty boots to the engine rooms.

  ‘Aren’t there weapons on this junker?’ Madias asked, voice like

  nails on a chalkboard.

  ‘No ammo.’

  ‘Incompetents! I’m going to die with incompetents!’

  Erryn banked hard across the stone wall of a large asteroid,

  sending Madias across the room.

  ‘Tie your seatbelt, Gabby.’

  Another explosion rocked the Kolheim. Erryn halted.

  ‘What are you doing?!’ Madias screamed.

  The corvette over shot her. She engaged thrusters and directed

  all power to the front deflector. The corvette didn’t stand a chance.

  Pierced by the mightier freighter, the Pegg ship burst like a pecker

  egg. The Pegg yolk spilled out, their big-heads popping.

  But there were more.

  Corvettes, skiffs, harriers, a destroyer surrounded the facility.

  They formed a dome, disruptors all about. A holo-screen appeared

  between four of the corvettes. A human skull with crossed bones.

  Pegg had a sense of humour.

  Erryn descended, the Kolheim moving fluidly when it should

  have otherwise lurched. She sunk into the labyrinth, and let shadows

  consume them.

  Silence. Darkness. Barry turned off the lights. Only undetectable

  light-sources like flashlights remained.

  ‘Shadow protocol,’ he whispered over the intercom.

  ‘Shadow what?’ Madias interjected, loudly.

  ‘Sssshhh. Didn’t you read the manual? Silence. We’re hiding.’

  ‘Hiding?! We can’t stay here forever.’

  ‘Neither can they. We have more food. They’ll have to give up,

  and will, eventually. We can wait them out, but be quiet.’

  They waited. No one moved. With the light of her wrist-

  computer, Erryn could see that Barry’s wizened face was calm, but

  she knew better. His hands would be sweaty. Madias was tapping

  her foot. There were sweat stains on her dress shirt. Her eyes were

  darting. To the windscreen, to her hands, to the console, to her

  wrist-tab computer. The latter was a device common among core-

  worlders, a computer grafted into the skin. Erryn didn’t like the

  intrusiveness.

  ‘Don’t do it,’ Barry whispered.

  ‘Armada can get us o
ut of here,’ Madias responded in a hushed

  shout.

  ‘Armada ain’t any countable parsecs away. That signal will get us

  killed.’

  Madias glared – and then turned on her wrist-tab.

  She fell with an oomph as Erryn tackled her to the ground,

  holding her hands down.

  ‘Get the tab away from her, Barry!’

  ‘Got a knife?’ Barry smirked, but then composed himself and

  cleared his throat. ‘Can’t do that. We’ll have to restrain her.’

  ‘You’ll never get a Titan contract again!’

  ‘Better that than dead, cap’n,’ Erryn spat.

  ‘You’re going to get me killed. We have to call Armada.’

  ‘You’re going to get us killed…Barry, get a sock to gag her. Every

  skiting Pegg listening post this side of the Terrace probably heard

  us.’

  Madias was struggling. Erryn heard her rip the edge of her

  tailored suit. Erryn wasn’t worried about her tank-top ripping, if

  Madias could even get a grip.

  Barry took off his shoe and withdrew his sock.

  ‘Last chance, cap’n.’

  With a look of resignation, Madias sighed. ‘I’ll behave.’

  Barry indicated for Erryn to desist. She did so. Then Madias

  pressed the distress beacon on her tab. Erryn knocked her out with

  one punch.

  ‘Skiting void, Barry!’

  ‘Don’t shout.’

  ‘Too vokken late. This sow just killed us all.’

  ‘Not yet, we’ve still got the best damn freight pilot this side of

  Great Terra.’

  ‘I’m a pilot, not a goddamn goddess! We’re doomed.’

  ‘Since when you so fatalistic?’

  ‘Since Pegg killed my entire family before my eyes, Barry. You

  know that. This ain’t Black Fleet, this ain’t some puny human pirate

  rabble. These are Pegg. They killed my family.’

  Barry placed his hand on Erryn’s shoulder. He didn’t say a word.

  She stared him in the eyes. Her glare was angry. His was sad. He

  won.

  ‘Fine, skites are only Pegg, right? Not like they made this cluster

  to begin with. Not Xank. Just Pegg. Big-headed skiting midgets with

  swords and stolen weapons.’

  Barry nodded. ‘Get us out of here, pilot. Show me why we don’t

  need Armada.’

  Erryn strapped herself. Then her noodles started to rise. The

  remaining gravy drifted, forming blobs in front of her face. The

  noodles floated merrily along the dashboard, staining one of the

  displays.

  With shock in his voice seldom heard, Barry shouted over the

  intercom. ‘Masks on, now!’

  It was too late. The intercom had been cut.

  Erryn put on her oxygen mask, linking up to a personnel tank on

  her side. Barry did the same and spared some effort to give one to

  the comatose Madias.

  Then they waited.

  No sounds, at first. Then a clank. A bang. The zip and hiss of an

  energy cutter. Some shouts. A gunshot. No more gunshots.

  Barry was loading his shotgun – an old Zerian model. Erryn had

  her railgun revolver at the ready. She hadn’t fired the sleek firearm

  for months. She hoped she wasn’t rusty.

  Barry paused his reloading as a scream echoed across the ship.

  He resumed. Erryn checked her chamber, the battery pack, and then

  her ammo pouch.

  Board fighting wasn’t something Erryn enjoyed. A good dogfight

  was nice in theory, even though Erryn didn’t desire those types of

  scraps either, but she couldn’t even fantasise about fighting onboard

  the Kolheim. Things were too sensitive in space. There was too

  much equipment. Easily breakable equipment. The internal hull was

  strong, but some bullets were stronger. If one was to come to blows

  in the halls of these vessels, they could not shoot wildly. Every pull

  of the trigger had to be carefully calculated. Every shot had to hit an

  assailant. No suppressive fire. No wild firing around corners. No

  missing. In the academy, they said this was the reason Trooper

  infantry weren’t allowed to guard Armada ships. They shot too

  liberally. They damaged the ship. The Kolheim crew knew how to

  fight onboard their home, but that didn’t soften their nerves. Rather,

  it made their predicament even more stressful.

  A small beep signalled the inflow of oxygen from her backup

  mask. It had detected that the main life support of the vessel had

  been shut off. Classic Pegg tactic.

  ‘We hold the cockpit, Erryn.’

  ‘What about the crew?’

  ‘They know what they have to do. Pegg are ambushers. They

  want us to move.’

  ‘We don’t have enough vokken oxygen to wait them out forever.

  They can keep restocking on whatever foul gas they need.’

  ‘I know. Vushla! I know. But what else we meant to do?’

  ‘Back to back. Watch all angles as we make our way to the crew

  quarters or the engine room.’

  ‘No, we can’t afford to lose the cockpit. They’ll hijack us and fly

  us into their entrapment yard.’

  ‘Skite! I hate this waiting.’

  ‘I know, Erryn. I know.’

  But they waited. Mostly, there was silence. Sometimes, the sound

  of a weapon would ring out. A bang. Sometimes, the zip of an

  energy blaster. Shouts could be heard, incomprehensible.

  Both Barry and Erryn were sitting, guns levelled at the single

  door to the cockpit.

  Clank, clank, clank.

  Footfalls upon the metal, outside the cockpit door.

  ‘Let me in! For Terra-sake, let me in.’

  Barry darted to the door and opened. A bloodied young man

  smiled with relief, and then fell face first, a blade in the back. Barry

  fired, from fright more than instinct. The pellets disappeared into

  the inky shadows.

  ‘Back away, Barry,’ Erryn warned, standing with her revolver

  levelled at the doorway, holding the railing on her chair to stop

  herself from floating away.

  Barry didn’t move.

  ‘You ain’t going like my parents, Barry.’

  No reply.

  ‘For vok-sake, Barry, get back!’

  He was pulled into the black.

  Erryn almost pulled the trigger, but reason stopped her. But she

  did pursue, into that inky black. Blacker than black.

  Clank, clank, clank – her metal-clad boots went upon the hard-

  metal floor. She clung onto the railings, using all her upper body

  strength to keep herself steady. She should have done more anti-

  gravity training.

  A motion. Too fast for a human. Erryn fired. Too late.

  ‘Vushla!’

  Silence. She came to a crossroads in the ship hallway. In the black

  void, her home was foreign to her. The minor illumination from her

  wrist-computer was too little.

  Tap-tap. She turned and fired. Nothing.

  She backed up against a wall, her breathing barely under control.

  Still silence. Right, empty. Left, empty. Front, empty…

  Her cheek was wet. With her free hand, she wiped it. Sticky,

  gooey and moist. She felt bile rising as she turned to her blind spot.

  Razor white teeth. A tongue the size of her hand. Lemon yellow

  eyes. A very human, yet inhum
an like smile. She screamed and fired.

  The Pegg guffawed and danced out of the way. It pirouetted as she

  fired again. It did a somersault and landed in front of her. It flicked

  its knife across her thigh. A shallow wound. She winced and tried to

  club it. Only a slight dodge this time. It pulled at her and threw her

  across the hall. She was too shocked to control her flight across the

  gravity-less hallway.

  She had only swum briefly in her life. She had not enjoyed it.

  This was like swimming. She floated, helplessly, down the hall. The

  monster tailed her, grimacing with sinister joy.

  Then she reclaimed her wits. She grabbed a railing and pulled

  herself into a side hallway. Then she kicked off the wall into a side

  room. She was stopped by a squish. A dead crewmate. She was glad

  she couldn’t tell which through its mask. In its hand was a flashlight.

  She grabbed it but didn’t turn it on. She pulled herself to the corner.

  As the brief period dragged on within her head, she began to lose it

  again. Memories, tastes, smells, from another time came back. Burnt

  pork. Burnt flesh. One was actually burnt. A repair blowtorch was

  transformed into a weapon. After that, cutting, blood, smirks. Erryn

  hated Pegg. This hatred defogged her clouded mind. Her breathing

  calmed. Her tense muscles relaxed. She held her weapon and

  flashlight aloft.

  A squelch. With a burst, Erryn turned on the flashlight. The Pegg

  recoiled, his eyes not adjusted to the light. She fired.

  Ever shot a pumpkin? A watermelon? Put a .45 calibre into a

  watermelon. You’ll know exactly what it’s like to shoot a Pegg then.

  A supersonic bang. No flash – railguns didn’t use explosions – just

  a sound of the projectile breaking the sound barrier. Then a burst.

  The oversized cranium burst like fruit, splattering the room. A bit

  of brain hit Erryn in the face. She held down her bile.

  Threat averted, she carefully reloaded her revolver. She only

  opened her ammo pouch slightly, lest the bullets fly away. But then

  the Kolheim lurched. The worst thing happened and the bullets

  exited their pouch.

  ‘Vushla!’ she swore, quietly, trying to grab as many bullets as she

  could. Too many were out of reach.

  Three shots. She’d have to make them count.

  She drifted out of the room, not even attempting to walk now.

  She dragged herself along the railing, pistol with flashlight clipped

  on shining ahead. Pegg had night-sight, so Erryn didn’t bother