Last of The Nighthawks_A Military Space Opera Adventure Read online

  As he left her side to prep his chair for cryo, she saw that several of the men were looking her way. She was one of the few mixed-race aliens on the Rendron, and she knew that her appearance was a curiosity.

  This was a lifelong curse that kept her on edge. She couldn’t tell if the staring was because she was female or curiosity due to her unique features. She didn’t see the big deal. She had a human body, all developed and built up through a lifetime of training. The Rendron was a military ship, so her fit body wasn’t out of the ordinary. The spots on the sides of her face, however, led people to believe she had more on her body.

  Cryo required complete nakedness, and she knew this coming in. But she’d assumed wrongly that there would be private compartments for them to change in.

  A panel above her shifted to the side and a glass attachment descended from it. When it touched the chair it slid forward with a hiss, sealing her inside. Metal restraints came out of the chair and wrapped around her arms and legs. This was disconcerting. She felt helpless and claustrophobic. Then she felt the pinch of a needle shoot drugs into her spine.

  She felt her body go limp, and she began to have trouble focusing. She no longer cared that she was restrained, or that she was naked next to Cruser. All she could think about was the pretty blue glass, this chamber that would be her home for a couple of days.

  She tried to focus on the mission but that didn’t work. “I’m about to go into combat wearing powered armor,” she whispered. The thought made her smile, and she forgot where she was. Soon she was asleep and dreaming of happier days.

  After several days at faster than light travel, the Britz SPZ slowed itself to orbit the moon of Dyn. First the computer came online, and then the lights as the cryo-pods came back to life.

  Helga’s eyes flew open, and the glass was gone. She saw the panel close above her station and felt the restraints open on her limbs. She rubbed her wrists and moved her legs, stretching painful joints. When she looked over at Cruser he was already on his feet, jumping around and flailing his arms.

  The pilot was still naked and she caught herself staring, so she quickly averted her gaze and rubbed the life back into her arms. Reaching into the locker, she grabbed her underclothes, dressed quickly, and then pulled out the 3B XO-suit. To her surprise it maintained her form, and she could pull it on without anyone’s help.

  When she was back in her armor, she could move around effortlessly, and in time the stiffness went away.

  “There she is,” said Cruser, and Helga made to say hello, but then she saw that he was referring to the moon of Dyn. It didn’t look like much, just a lifeless chunk of rock, but when she consulted her computer, she learned that it had enough gravity to support human life.

  “I can see why the settlers chose to take a chance here,” she said. “What about you, Cruser? You ever think about settling down on a moon like this?”

  “Me? Please, it would never happen. I was born and raised in the black of space, and that is where I will remain. You thinking about putting down some roots down there, Ate?” he said, laughing, and she quickly shook her head at him.

  “Computer says the atmosphere is toxic like Geral. Bad for us, good for them. Can’t settle down in a place where I’m having to watch my back,” she said. “Plus, the Alliance needs me to hunt the lizards.”

  “What do you know about lizards?” someone said, and Helga turned around slowly to see who it was. She hadn’t realized that she was speaking so loud that the whole ship could hear. “You think what they show you in vids has you ready for the enemy? You’re going to get educated real fast. They like Vestalian women, even the ones with spots. You will be a special kind of dish for them. If I were you I’d stay onboard and hope that we kill them all. As soon as they get a whiff of you, woo-boy, you will wish that you’d never put on that armor.”

  Helga stood frozen, staring at the man. She was so blindsided by his words that she didn’t know what to do. He had hit her with a trifecta of insults, hitting on her race, sex, and newness to the war. “Why don’t you worry about yourself?” she said, instinct kicking in to make her defend herself. It felt like the cadet academy all over again, and she would have to prove herself the way she did back then.

  “Sure, if it was just about you I’d let you walk into hell,” he said. “But you’re a liability whether you like it or not. Talking tough don’t mean schtill. Our commanders know all too well that the lizards want our women, yet they allowed you to come out here where they’ve set up shop—”

  He shut his mouth as soon as Cilas Mec walked over to where he stood. The lieutenant whispered something to him, and he shot Helga an angry look before sitting back down. Cruser reached over and touched Helga on her arm and when she faced him he gestured for her to sit.

  “This isn’t the cadet academy, Helga. You need to keep a low profile,” he said. “These men are dangerous, and they don’t care about you. When things go south—and they always do—you don’t want to be on the bad side of your team.”

  Helga sat down fuming. She couldn’t believe it. Here was the same nonsense that she’d dealt with inside of the academy. It was beyond exhausting having to deal with people picking fights with her. Somehow she thought that it would be different in the military, but she was quickly learning that it wouldn’t be.

  As in all situations where she felt cornered, her mind went to ways to get back at him. One day he would need her, and she would remind him of how he’d spoken to her, and more importantly how she’d felt.

  “He’s like that with everybody,” Cruser was saying, but she only felt herself get angrier.

  “Is there anything you need me to do, Cruser?” she said, desperate for some stimulus to calm her nerves.

  “You can bring us in.” He pointed to the star map. “Just follow the beacon and don’t try anything crazy.”

  “Got it,” she said and took over the controls, tracing the beacon leading down to the moon. There was something about piloting that put her mind at ease, and Cruser letting her fly the ship took a weight off her shoulders.

  “Ate, you’re new, so the guys are going to give you schtill. This isn’t the cadet academy, kid, but they are rightfully worried that you’re not qualified. Our last mission was rough, and we lost a Nighthawk. That was our ninth mission, and we did everything by the book. Everyone was shaken up, Ate. Nighthawks aren’t supposed to die. You’re here with seasoned warriors, the Rendron’s best of the best. They know each other’s strength and weaknesses, but they know nothing about you.”

  Helga looked at Cruser, struggling to find the right words. “What happened on the last mission to kill Ahmad?” she said.

  “Ghost ship stranded out in deep space,” he said, reminding her of a man in his cups, rambling to himself about a past trauma. He stared out at the moon as if he could see down to its surface, and fidgeted with his hands as he spoke. “We were told that it was Alliance, and that we needed to scavenge it before the Geralos did. I could tell it was wrong from the moment we were briefed, but we go where we are sent, Ate. We go where we are sent.”

  He was speaking so low that she could barely hear, low so the others wouldn’t have to relive it the way he did. “Ahmad was first pilot, and a mentor to me. We’d flown together for years, becoming Nighthawks at the same time. I owed him a lot; he’d saved my hide countless times on mission drops. Like I said, though, this one felt wrong. Scant details on why we were searching this ship, and little time to prepare for it,” he said.

  “Sounds a bit like this mission,” Helga said, and she noticed his eyes grow wide.

  “Yeah, well you better get used to it,” he said, looking around. “We don’t have the luxury of asking for details on these drops. Now, this last mission with the derelict ship, we boarded it and—”

  “Hey, Cruse,” someone called from the back of the ship, and the pilot looked around then got to his feet. It was as if he was relieved to be interrupted from his tale. Helga watched him walk back there and sit with the b
iggest ESO. At first she thought that he had gotten in trouble for saying too much to her, but soon they were laughing and trading barbs.

  Helga, feeling isolated, focused on the Britz’s approach. The autopilot could have managed it, but she wanted to be prepared in case of anything.

  “How’s it going, rookie? You okay?” someone said, and Helga turned around to see who it was.

  The man standing behind her was one of the men who had welcomed her earlier. He seemed to be made of muscle, to where even his face looked strong, and though his presence was intimidating, he didn’t come across as a brute.

  “Thanks, Chief, I am good,” she said after looking at his patch to see his rank. “Just ready to get off this bug and walk around.”

  He walked over and took a seat in Cruser’s chair, then stuck out his hand for her to shake it. “I’m Casein, by the way. Casein Varnes. Your name is Helga, right? Helga Ate.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “At your service. Shouldn’t you be avoiding the liability like your friend over there?”

  “Not my buddy, but he’s my brother all the same. He’s your brother too, even though you may not like it. Listen, I’m over here because we’re on a mission and I need to know who has my back. You’re new, and that’s alright, we were all there, but when the schtill starts to fly we’re all the same. The only thing that matters is the mission and our survival, so try your best to not take any of Wyatt’s words personally.”

  Helga nodded slowly. He was probably right, but she wouldn’t be making friendly with Wyatt any time soon. “I’m a boomer kid,” she said. “Born and raised on the Rendron. My dad was Vestalian Army, and my mom was Casanian. My brother and I are the freaks that they produced. Been a military brat my entire life. I got to second class in the cadets and now I’m here. Sorry, but I don’t have any war stories yet. Maybe in a few years if I’m still alive.”

  “You have a sense of humor, though,” he said. “That’s kind of a surprise. You should use that wit the next time Wyatt insults you. Show him that you can dish it out. You’ll get farther with these boys if you get down in the mud with them. Getting upset will give him what he wants. You’re playing right into Wyatt’s hands.”

  “So what’s your story, Chief?” Helga said, glad for the distraction and the break from her solitude.

  “I’m not formally Alliance. You can probably tell. I’m originally from Virulia, but a military brat just like you. I was recon for the Virulian Army and made a lot of noise against the Geralos. But my unit was defeated and the Vestalian Navy rescued me. The lizards torched our country and ate my people. I am one of the only survivors. The Rendron gave me a chance to get some revenge, so here I am with you.”

  “That’s awful,” Helga said, wanting to say more but unsure if it would be appropriate.

  “What do you know about the Geralos, Ate?” he said, his right hand fidgeting with the pilot’s controls.

  “Not much, but can you please stop doing that?” she said. “If you trigger a thrust you’ll knock us off our timing, and we really need to make the LZ.”

  “Oops, don’t want to do that,” he said with a nervous smile. “Guess I have nerves now that we can actually see the moon.”

  “I’ve seen vids of the Geralos, and illustrations of course, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in person,” she said.

  “That’s a no then,” he said quietly. “The first time you see one you won’t forget it. I still have nightmares about them and I’ve been fighting them for years. They’re animals, Ate. Vicious, but intelligent. If you let your guard down they will harvest you quickly.” He made a snap with his armored fingers and it made her jump. “You’re a woman, so they will want to eat your brains.”

  “I know about that,” Helga said. “Hell, that’s all they teach us about them. If you’re caught, kill yourself; it will be better if you do. The lizards think we have powers so they eat our brains. Women are a delicacy, so they mainly target us. It’s funny, I never believed the stories. I always thought it was propaganda to keep women out of the military.”

  “There are millions of Vestalians that prove it’s true, Ate. Women rotting inside of Geralos camps waiting to be eaten. The things you heard were true; do not assume you know better. The minute you underestimate them, that’s when you become their food.”

  Helga thought about Wyatt’s words from earlier and how he called her a liability. With everything that Varnes was saying she was beginning to think that it was true.

  “I won’t put myself in a position to get caught or to endanger the team,” she said. “I’m here to backup Chief Cruser, and to get us in and out of there.”

  “How old are you, Ate? About eighteen?” he said.

  “Seventeen, actually, but don’t hold it against me,” she said. “You had one hell of a hard life leading up to here, Chief. Why aren’t you an officer, given everything you’ve done?”

  “That’s a complicated answer, but I am happy where I am. Plus, after Virulia, I wanted to be back in the fight, not commanding men to do it for me. Anyway, I better get back to my seat before they think I’m over here chatting you up,” he said, winking. “We’ll talk later, Ate. Just remember what I said, and don’t let Wyatt scare you. You’re one of us now.”

  3

  As the Britz began its descent on the moon’s surface, Cilas Mec stood up and addressed the Alliance ESOs.

  “Welcome to Dyn, Nighthawks,” he said. “Now that you all have gotten some sleep, I can make the proper introductions. Master Chief?”

  He gestured to the biggest ESO who was holding up his hand, and the man stood up and saluted.

  “Sorry to interrupt you, Lt, but why all the secrecy? I get that we’re going to rescue civilians, but we’re in a different system above a neutral planet. I didn’t hear anything about support, evacuation time, and the standard details of a mission like this. Are we really going in blind, sir?”

  When he took his seat Cilas stopped to think. He appeared to have had the air knocked out of him, but then he faced them again. “Blind is an understatement, Hem. I was briefed exactly one hour before sending out the orders to assemble. Like you said, this is a different, and if I was to guess, the sparse details was necessary, since the Geralos have spies everywhere. We need to be professionals about this, Nighthawks. This could turn out messy if we’re not on our game.”

  Helga could feel a new tension come over the men, and she wondered at Cilas’s words and what they truly meant. A few more men asked detailed questions that the lieutenant couldn’t answer, and it became obvious that whomever gave him the order knew little about Dyn.

  “We all know one another, right?” Cilas said.

  “I don’t know this man,” Wyatt said and tried in vain to push the Master Chief, who took his fist and slammed it into his chest. Wyatt doubled over, coughing and raising a hand in surrender, and the big man smiled with satisfaction, not taking his eyes off the lieutenant.

  Cilas stopped to give Wyatt a stern look, then went back to jovially pacing the deck in front of them. “We know each other, we’ve bled together, and we’ve raised enough hell to be recognized across the Alliance,” he said, and the men showed their approval in a loud series of shouts. “But we have a new recruit that needs to catch up,” he said, staring at her.

  Helga could never meet his eyes without looking away, embarrassed. It was one of those things when you find someone attractive, was worried that they would read it in your eyes, and feared that it would make them think less of you. She glanced down at her hands, chancing a glance or two up at him until he broke his stare to scan the room.

  She was never good at the whole eye contact thing anyway, so she exhaled happily when he continued. “Just raise your hand when I call your name, so Helga—over there—can put a name with the face.”

  The rest of the men turned to look at her now, and she dared not look away. Unlike Cilas, who she knew from the academy, these men were strangers and she needed their respect. She saw a few warm glances,
but most were cold, and when she focused in on Wyatt, he blew her a kiss.

  “All right, Ate, stand so they can see you,” Cilas said. “You can’t hide in the pilot’s seat forever, you know.” Helga stood up quickly, still facing them, but she chose to look directly at Cilas’s chest in order to avoid Wyatt’s glare.

  “Men, this is Ensign Helga Ate, a second class cadet that just graduated from the academy. Helga is one of the only cadets to score perfect marks on the combat exercise. This will be her first official dance outside of simulation, so we should aim to break her in properly. Right?”

  The men shouted their approval in unison, even Wyatt, who gave her a genuine smile. Helga didn’t know what it meant, but she wasn’t ready to forgive him, not until he gave her a formal apology.

  “Now, Ate, let me introduce you to the Nighthawks. First, we have Master Chief Stargunner, Cage Hem. The Master Chief is a true veteran of this conflict, having led men into battle on every Alliance planet, and several remote moons. If you need a role model, Ate, look no further. MCS Hem is your prototype,” Cilas said.

  Helga saw that Cage was the same man who had asked Cilas if the lizards would be ready for them. He was a silent giant, dark and beefy, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties. He gave her a friendly nod and she returned the gesture, hoping that he was as nice as he looked.

  “You know Chief Adan Cruser, but it goes without saying that he is the best space to surface pilot that the Rendron has ever seen. You also met Chief Casein Varnes, a former Virulian Ranger. He’s now a valuable asset to our little company,” Cilas said.

  He then introduced Chief Horne Wyatt, a former planet buster. That was all Helga needed to hear in order to know what he was. The fact that he bore no scars on his face spoke to his skills with surviving, or his extreme luck.

  When Cilas was finished, Wyatt merely stared at her, and Helga returned his glare hoping he’d see that she wasn’t afraid of him.

  While Wyatt was the definition of hard, the man next to him was the extreme opposite. He was pale but dressed in a tight black outfit that looked nothing like the armor they wore. Helga wondered how it was that she hadn’t seen him until now. She didn’t recall him being there when they boarded the Britz.