Dryker's Folly: Book 1 in Void Wraith Origins Read online

  The camera angle moved to a different shot, this one a much more detailed picture of the ships. There were no markings on the outer hulls, just an unbroken bronze alloy. Nor did he spot any obvious cannons, missile batteries, or other recognizable weapons. Those were ports though, probably for launching some sort of fighter. Carrier then? Who were these guys?

  “Both the United Americas and the Indo-Russian Coalition have attempted to communicate with these new arrivals, but with no success.” The reporter plastered on a practiced smile. “Could we be meeting our first alien species?”

  Dryker tapped the pause button so he could think. A signal broadcast into the sun, all the way from Pluto. Within hours, unfamiliar ships showed up, powerful enough to survive the gravity and pressure of a star.

  What in the hell had he stumbled into?

  3

  Fizgig

  Fizgig buckled her harness, then clipped on three more shuriken. Around her the rest of the claw did the same, each Tigris warrior arming themselves for the first battle with a new alien species. Their tension and eagerness were living things. Each wanted to be the first to claim a kill, the first to slay this new race, whatever it might be.

  “Prepare yourselves, kits,” growled a deep, familiar voice from above. A moment later, Leorak’s heavily-muscled form plunged through the hatch. The tawny-furred male landed on the metal floor with a meaty thump, and flexed his claws as he took them in. “I have bartered, and we are to be in the first volley.”

  Fizgig’s tail rose at that. Only four darts would be in the first wave, and theirs had been selected. There was a very real chance that she could be the first ever to kill one of these humans. And, if not the first, then among the first few, certainly.

  “What are these creatures like?” she growled. Leorak’s gaze shot to her, and Fizgig dropped her eyes to the deck.

  “I have heard only rumors,” Leorak admitted. He crossed to his locker and slipped his cargo harness over his scored armor. “They are hairless, like the Primo. And small too, though not as fragile as the first race. Their technology is reputed to be impressive, if their broadcasts are any indication. Some of their cannons can split a planet in half.”

  Fizgig was about to buckle herself into her seat when a face appeared above the hatch. She blinked in surprise. It was Sharena. The robed priestess’s golden fur was immaculate, as always.

  “Holy One.” Leorak gave a bow to Sharena, then turned to Fizgig. “Your sister requires you. Be swift. We must ready ourselves.”

  Fizgig leapt into the air and seized the lip of the hatch. She used her tail for balance as she pulled herself into a crouch on the dart’s bronze hull, then rose to embrace her sister. She slid her cheek against Sharena’s, then stepped back with a respectful bow.

  “I’m sorry to embarrass you in front of your claw.” Sharena’s tail hovered proudly behind her, bubbling with the need to spill whatever her news was. “I’ve been selected to go with the Tigrana’s Spear to secure the Primo facility. This is a chance to substantiate all my theories. I can finally prove that the current Primo empire is just a shadow of what came before. They’ve lost much, and this is our chance to find out who or what overthrew them. If we give them back a piece of their past, they’ll have no choice but to respect us as equals.”

  Fizgig licked the back of her paw and groomed an errant patch of fur on Sharena’s neck. “I know how important this is to you, but the Tigrana’s Spear is run by Mighty Khemket. He’s more interested in glory than honor, and we don’t know what these humans are capable of. Take great care, sister.”

  Sharena’s tail drooped.

  “I’m certain you will make a great discovery.” Fizgig rested one paw on each of her sister’s shoulders, and rubbed whiskers. It was a deeply personal gesture, done only between close family or mates. “You are worthy, sister. You are brilliant. I only ask that you temper your passion with caution.”

  “We are Tigris,” her sister snarled, breaking free of Fizgig’s grip. “Just because I wear a robe does not mean I cannot fight. Caution is for kits.”

  Fizgig began to purr. “There’s that fiery spirit. Mother would be proud. Tigrana’s grace, sister. Battle comes. I must go. Be well, Holy One.”

  Fizgig broke eye contact first, a gesture of respect. Then she dropped through the hatch and landed lightly next to Leorak. He said nothing as she buckled herself in.

  The hatch slid shut above, and sealed with a hiss. Then the dart jerked as it was loaded into the launch tube. Fizgig had flown into battle a dozen times, but each time her heart thundered like a fresh kit. She’d never admit that, of course, but battle still terrified her. Especially against an unknown foe. Who knew how these aliens would even fight? There were countless ways to die, and it only took one mistake.

  Would they be honorable? Cowardly? What kind of weapons did they possess, and would those weapons be enough to help Pride Leonis return to greatness? She wasn’t sure such a feat was possible, but none of those thoughts had a place in the coming combat.

  The dart jerked suddenly, and Fizgig was pinned to her seat as they accelerated to ten Gs. Such speeds would liquify a Primo’s organs, but Tigris were made from sterner stuff. She gritted her fangs as they shot toward the humans’ station on the sole moon orbiting their little world.

  Each of the warriors around her suffered in silence, a testament to their training. Not every claw was so well trained, but Mighty Khama, her vessel’s commander, brooked no laziness in his warriors. Claw leaders like Leorak took that seriously, and made certain that every new warrior adopted into the claw did the same. It was a dying tradition in Pride Leonis, once known for the discipline and ferocity of its warriors.

  The dart shuddered alarmingly as the engine reached maximum velocity. Fizgig’s chest ached, and her eyes felt as if they might sink into her skull. She hated it, but she refused to cry out. This part would be brief.

  As expected, all momentum abruptly ceased. She was thrown into her harness, and at the same time a pulse of translucent blue energy filled the dart. The kinetic energy was absorbed by the field, and when it faded she sat dazed in her seat.

  “For Pride Leonis!” Leorak roared, bringing her back to combat readiness.

  Fizgig clicked her harness open and leapt to her feet. “For Pride Leonis!”

  Each warrior did the same as they rose to their feet, though none so swiftly as Fizgig. Leorak slapped the red button next to the hatch, and it cycled open.

  For one terrifying moment she worried that they might be in a depressurized part of the enemy’s station, but there was a hiss as their atmosphere equalized with that of the humans’.

  “Fizgig, carry our honor,” Leorak boomed.

  Fizgig leapt to the hatch, and rolled through into the human vessel. She didn’t draw either of her sha-ka, instead leaving her paws free in case she needed them. She raised her nose and tested the air, which revealed a tapestry of strange new scents. There was an earthy scent that she was positive belonged to a living creature.

  “They are close,” she called softly. “No sentries, but they will be upon us soon.”

  The rest of the claw emerged one after another, each leaping down to join her. Leorak came last, but as he emerged from the hatch, the first enemy warrior rushed around the corner.

  Fizgig was fairly certain the creature was female. She wore black armor with a bulky helmet covering most of her head. The parts of her body that were exposed were a pasty, hairless white. She was shorter than Fizgig, but while her body was lean it was also wiry. She’d guess this human could move quickly if needed.

  The human withdrew a small round object from her belt and hurled it at Leorak. He rolled nimbly out of the way, but Fizgig realized he hadn’t been the target. The projectile disappeared through the hatch, landing inside the dart with a clink. A moment later there was a deafening roar, and a wash of flame burst from the hatch.

  “Explosives!” Furk called, unhelpfully. The burly male rolled away from the detonation, hi
s mane singed and smoking.

  Fizgig withdrew a pair of sha-ka, and hurled them at the enemy warrior. The woman seemed surprised, doubly so when one of the shuriken punctured her ear and disappeared inside her skull. The warrior slumped bonelessly to the deck, and Fizgig sprinted toward her fallen form.

  Another human came around the corner, and this one raised a strange projectile weapon. It vaguely resembled a Primo plasma rifle, but was a crude, black alloy. The weapon kicked backward, and a lance of flame erupted from the barrel.

  Something hot and heavy punched into Fizgig’s shoulder. The blow was so powerful it arrested her momentum, and spun her into the wall. That may have saved her life, as three more humans burst around the corner and fired similar weapons. Two of her claw mates died instantly, while Leorak and Furk rolled into cover behind the dart.

  Fizgig judged the distance between her and the warrior she’d killed. She had to try. She rolled forward, then pounced on the fallen body. The other humans were already reacting, but too slowly. Fizgig pulled their fallen companion atop her own body. The human weapons filled the corridor with an awful stench that singed her nose and burned her eyes, but the projectiles thudded into the enemy corpse, instead of her armor.

  She flipped the body off her, and scythed her foot out at the closest warrior. The blow caught him in the knee, and the human roared as bone cracked. He started to fall, but Fizgig was on him. She brought his body up like a shield, as she’d done with his companion, and used her free paw to seize his weapon. She wrenched the rifle from his grasp and took a moment to study it as he wriggled in her grip.

  Her head-butt split his nose, and ended his struggles, freeing her to study the weapon further.

  She’d noted that each time one of the warriors had fired, they’d pulled the switch under the barrel. She aimed the rifle at the next warrior and pressed the switch. It was difficult, because the weapon possessed some sort of trigger guard made for a much smaller finger.

  The weapon kicked in her grip like a living thing, and filled the corridor with more of the awful stench. But it also sent a hail of deadly metal balls, which cut down the warrior before her. Fizgig used her other hand to snap the neck of the warrior she was using as a shield, then flung his body into the last of the humans.

  The last warrior desperately wriggled out from under the corpse of her companion, but by that point Fizgig had moved swiftly and silently behind her enemy. She plunged her claws into the back of the woman’s throat and severed her spine.

  “For Pride Leonis!” she roared. Her cry echoed down the corridor, and was soon taken up by the surviving Tigris.

  They’d secured a foothold. Now, the slaughter could begin.

  4

  High Gs

  Dryker’s mouth went dry as the footage played across the screen. The savagery of the attack was impressive, though the tactics were damned strange. When two Earth starships slugged it out they did it in a series of high-speed passes designed to make the vessels more difficult to hit, and they fired gauss cannons in a game of guess my enemy’s course.

  These strange new ships didn’t appear to use projectile weapons, unless you counted the little fighters they fired from the ports in the hull. Those fighters worked a lot like missiles, slamming into vulnerable parts of their targets. At first Dryker had assumed they were missiles, but the tiny bronze darts hadn’t exploded on impact.

  The footage cut back to lunar orbit, and showed the Starcaller, one of the UA’s newest destroyers, approaching the lunar surface at an alarming rate. Her aft engines sputtered out, cutting her maneuverability. One of the enemy ships closed at full burn, and several harpoons shot from it, sinking into the Starcaller. They dragged it toward the bronze Goliath, which rammed the Starcaller at full speed.

  The Starcaller’s hull buckled, and the enemy ship speared through the midsection. Another engine went dark.

  Dryker realized the awful truth. “Those fighters are delivering boarding parties. Seek-and-destroy teams, I’d bet, with orders to disable critical systems. You slow and immobilize, and then you board and conquer.”

  His suspicions were confirmed when the footage cut to a brief firefight inside the ship. A Marine’s head cam caught sight of the enemy a split second before she was under attack. A four-second clip showed a large, feline creature barreling into her, then raking the Marine’s face and chest repeatedly with the same kind of ferocity a lion used to savage a gazelle.

  “Does the news have a name for them yet?” Dryker forced himself to replay the grisly footage.

  “Not yet, Captain Dryker.”

  “Okay, we’re calling them cats for now then.” He tapped a course on the console, then turned the dial that would set thrust to maximum.

  “You are setting a course to Pluto, Captain Dryker?” Naomi asked. The surprise was perfect, indistinguishable from a real person. It was those little details that almost made him think she was real, right up until she wandered off the elaborate script she’d been programmed with.

  “It can’t be a coincidence that this signal happened, and the aliens instantly showed up.” Dryker leaned back into his seat and got comfortable as the Folly began to accelerate. When she hit full velocity he wouldn’t be able to move. The Folly’s internal dampeners were gen one, and while they made travel possible they certainly didn’t make it comfortable.

  “One last thing before we get underway. I want you to go dark. Turn off all broadcasts, including ident.” The gravity mounted, a thousand anvils pressing Dryker down into the chair.

  Naomi paused. “That is illegal, Captain Dryker.”

  Dryker had to force his lungs to expand, and every word was a costly victory. “Priority override one-six-one-eight-nine-alpha.”

  “All non-essential systems shutting down,” Naomi cheerfully supplied. “A priority override requires a log entry, which will be transmitted to corporate. Would you like to supply a log entry now?”

  Dryker could no longer lift his limbs, and the pressure hadn’t even really begun to mount. At the same time, if he didn’t provide a log entry Naomi would continue to harass him about it until he did.

  So what did he tell corporate about going dark? His instincts said it was the smart play, but why?

  Because if that signal had been beamed to no place a human would send it, from a place no human had any right to be, then it stood to reason that something non-human was responsible. Especially given that the aliens had shown up within hours. And because the aliens who they’d contacted would almost certainly investigate the source of the signal.

  “Record log entry,” Dryker forced out between gritted teeth. “At current time stamp I chose to disengage my transponder, and all non-essential systems. I suspect….” He paused and took several breaths before he was able to continue. “I suspect that these aliens, the cats, are going to pay a visit to Pluto. I…don’t know what their technology is like, but broadcasting my location seems like an unnecessary risk to company property. End log.”

  A sheen of sweat sprang up along Dryker’s face, and his breathing went ragged like he’d run a marathon. He tensed as a needle jabbed his side, and administered the cocktail they used to stabilize humans in a high-G environment. Dryker had no idea what was in it, but it made him unable to pee for days at a time.

  He hated this next part. Dryker couldn’t move, not even to speak. Not when they hit full thrust, anyway. That meant he was totally dependent on Naomi to stop the ship, and while he was almost certain that wouldn’t ever be an issue, he couldn’t quiet the nagging doubts.

  Long minutes passed and his mind grew foggy. A result of the drugs, he realized. Had he taken care of everything? He thought so. What if the cats found him?

  A thought chilled him. Should he have warned the Johnston about his suspicions? He tried to speak, but even breathing required Herculean effort. If the cats really were flying out this way, Sheng would be their first target.

  He hoped the Johnston was up for the task.

  5

&n
bsp; Mow

  Fizgig, proud claw of Pride Leonis, clung to the bulkhead, silent as death as she observed the enemy warriors prowling beneath her. They were skilled, and the barrels of their rifles ceaselessly scanned the corridor. But not a single one looked up, both because they’d never fought a foe that could cling to the ceiling, and because they wore heavy, black helmets. The head protection came at the expense of peripheral vision.

  “For Tigrana,” she roared as she released the bulkhead and fell upon the rear warrior in their claw. She gouged the warrior’s eyes, drawing a shriek from the blinded soldier. Fizgig used the opportunity to seize the back of his helmet. She sank her fangs into the man’s throat, savoring the coppery tang as blood fountained down his chest. She dropped the body, though in other circumstances would have savored the meal.

  Fizgig snatched up the warrior’s rifle and sought another target, but her companions had not been idle. Leorak glided silently from his shadowed perch behind a terminal, and disemboweled the closest warrior. Furk used one of the humans’ rifles like a club, and brought down another warrior with repeated blows to the face.

  It was over in moments, and the Tigris warriors were left standing over the bodies of their foes. The scent of blood, and whatever odor the rifles gave off, mingled to form a sickly-sweet aroma.

  Fizgig began stripping the closest warrior of weapons and other useful equipment. A hand-held projectile weapon was buckled to one thigh, and the pocket on the other thigh bulged with rectangular metal boxes. Fizgig studied one for a moment, and realized it contained more of the metal balls. Which weren’t balls at all, but dart-shaped projectiles. Fascinating.

  The devices were cleverly made, but given time she was certain Sharena could disassemble it, and probably craft a duplicate of her own.