Ghost Ship (Gene Soldiers Book 4) by James David Victor

Author:James David Victor [Victor, James David]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Fairfield Publishing
Published: 2022-01-24T16:00:00+00:00

16

ALERT! ALERT!

“Tucker! What’s happening!?”

Carl heard Lieutenant Abrams’ cry as he clung onto the grab handles and webbing of the UTA Pegasus. All around the small, cramped crew, alerts and warning oranges flared.

They had just made it off the Constance, with a hesitant cease-fire between themselves and their opposite numbers amongst the Palacians. This was mostly aided by the fact that Abrams didn’t have the space for seven new Palacian prisoners of war and that the entire Constance was rigged to blow.

“I thought you said we were going to be clear!” Carl heard Tucker snarl as they were violently thrown against the other side of the wall of their small hold chamber once again. Even through his crimson Exalted suit, the thuds and crashes still hurt.

“Demolitions isn’t exactly a precise science!” Specialist Mendiata was shouting, and as Carl looked over to her, he could see her snarling fiercely, and her eyes behind her cracked helmet visor were wide.

“How many miles out are we? The explosions shouldn’t be this violent!” Mendiata was saying. There was a half sound from Tucker over the Pegasus comms as he tried to answer, but that was quickly cut off in a jarring squeal of static and an explosion of sparks.

“Tucker! Specialist!” Lieutenant Abrams was roaring before he swore, hit the release coupling of his own secure webbing, and instead threw himself through the hatch towards the cockpit.

I really don’t want to die out here, Carl thought as the ship around him—and he himself—shook. Another burst of sparks came from the walls as another series of lights went out, and an equipment locker burst open, spilling coils of metal ropes and ratchet straps.

Carl was thrown against the nearest wall where a rounded porthole window looked out onto the stars outside. With only grunts and snarls coming through their suit comms from the cockpit, Carl pressed his visor to the thickened glass to catch sight of what was going on.

To see that there was a fading blue orb appearing underneath them, then swinging away, then before them, then on their right.

The Constance, Carl thought. The Exalted-WarDog-Pillarman had seen enough starships exploding in his time to recognize the afterburn of one of them. He was looking at—or rotating past, to be more specific—the decaying particle burn of a neutron explosion. The very same sort of explosion that a starship created when its reactors were blown.

And out there, suddenly in view, was the similarly hurled Palacian ship—an ungainly, stubby little wasp of a vessel in Carl’s opinion. It was rotating and rolling as it attempted to fire positional thrusters, but any attempt merely sent it barreling forwards at an ever faster and faster speed.

“. . . straightening out!”

His suit abruptly connected with the cockpit comms and Tucker’s voice. There was another kick to the Pegasus, and very quickly, the blue burn of the Constance disappeared, and their flight was smoothing out from the reckless, uncontrolled ride and into a merely reckless and dangerous one.

“. . . damaged. Sideral power units .

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