Downfall (Contact Book 2) by David Ryker

Author:David Ryker [Ryker, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ryker's Rogues
Published: 2018-09-24T06:00:00+00:00

19

Loreto

“What’s your name, pilot?”

This time, Loreto rode up front. He saw the lump form in the man’s throat.

“Jensen, sir,” the man said, licking his lips. “Ben Jensen.”

“Ben Jensen.” Loreto turned the words over in his mouth. “And you fly all these shuttle trips for us?”

The man nodded – slightly too fast, the commander noted. The cockpit was filled with blinking lights and buzzing sounds as they hurtled toward the surface of the alien world.

“You’re never curious as to what’s out there?” Loreto asked, peering out at the desolate surface. “Never want to join us?”

Ben Jensen shook his head. The entire shuttle shuddered as they plunged down through the hazy atmosphere. Electricity crackled in the clouds and rain sleeted against the wide window, five centimeters of hardened plastic which kept space out and the air in. In his hands, he held the old knife. Not the ceremonial one he’d received from the Senate, but the real one, the antique one which had belonged to Rother ‘Red Hand’ Loreto himself. He’d been thinking about the man since the monastery and he turned it over and over casually in his hand.

“If… If I go out there,” Jensen said, his hands gripping the control stick, “there’s no one to fly the shuttle if it all goes wrong.”

Pessimistic, Loreto thought, not wanting to tell him about his background as a fighter pilot. Why shatter the thought? It was important to make every member of the team feel utterly essential.

“You’re doing a good job, Ben,” he said and tightened his grip around his safety buckles. They were in for a bumpy ride.

After following the abbot’s directions as best they could, Loreto and his crew had crossed the system, steering the Vela past planets and asteroids and all manner of space detritus. They’d seen nothing of the Symbiot and had sworn themselves to secrecy over the clandestine monastery of centuries-old clones. Any attempt to interview the patient in the med bay had become impossible; he’d slipped back into a coma and Cameron guarded him like a lion. Hertz had been retired to his quarters, told to take a short period of rest. It wasn’t much but it was the best Loreto could do. They were flying blind.

But slowly, Eliot and Cele had convinced themselves they could see the Exiles in the white noise of their data charts. Loreto listened to them, plotting his course for the far edge of the galaxy. After days of travelling, they arrived at another cluster of asteroids, formed into the shape of a circle. The signal was coming within. They had guided the Vela through the cloud of obstacles. Within was a dwarf planet and the Exile ships.

Loreto had nearly sung with joy. Then, two hours later, after his messages elicited no response, he might have cried. The ships seemed deserted and responded in no way to the constant pinging and broadcasts he sent in their direction. More and more, it felt like trying to communicate with lifeless husks. Even their great

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