Page 52 of Desperate Measures

“You’re live,” Hope whispered. “Speak to the galaxy about what’s happened.”

Cheryl gazed into the vid camera the other woman held. “Members of the Galactic Council of Planets, my name is Cheryl Taupin. I’m the head administrator of the Open Arms Orphanage, which until seconds ago, was located on the moon Mymah in Galactic Council space. This orphanage was established after the original Earth’s Armageddon at the close of the Earth-Kalquor war. For nine years my staff, which includes a mere dozen Kalquorian protectors, has cared for and raised the parentless children of the first Earth, with the Galactic Council’s support and blessing.

“What you’ve just witnessed was a group of Galactic Council warships using old Earth’s city-killers to destroy our orphanage. During a previous inspection, in which they searched the orphanage for our Kalquorian security team…a team that has also cared for and taught our children…they attempted to seize a number of us as hostages. We managed to avoid capture at the time.

“Today they returned, but not to capture Kalquorians or humans. They came to kill. They gave no warning prior to the attack, which took place mere seconds ago. However, thanks to the Kalquorian Empire sending in help, we were able to evacuate the facility before they succeeded in murdering our children.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw the monitor displaying her speech widen to include the tearful, frightened youths surrounding her. Cheryl didn’t mind that Piras had insisted the youngest of the orphans be placed front and center. It might have been crass propaganda to use the most vulnerable of her wards, but the Darks had done the unspeakable. They would have done worse had Open Arms’ residents not crowded aboard the spyship and its smaller vessels, all of which were beyond advised capacity.

Cheryl continued, her tone firming in anger. “The Galactic Council, overcome by an unseen enemy we refer to as the Darks and the All, will no doubt insist we’ve faked the destruction of the orphanage on Mymah. I beg, believe what your eyes tell you. The Kalquorian Empire isn’t fabricating the existence of these merciless killers. The Darks have come for our children. They’re coming for all of us.”

* * * *

“Captain, the GC warships are phasing!”

Kila and Piras swung around at Jado’s cry, interrupting Cheryl’s impassioned plea. “Phasing?” the pair barked at the same moment.

“The signature is the same as our technology. Half have phased. The rest remain in our dimension.”

“The entire group is heading our way,” First Officer Esren at the helm added. “As soon as they phased, their scanners picked us up.”

“The Darks must have acquired our phasing capabilities when they had hold of Fleet Admiral Hobato,” Piras said, his tone filled by quiet dread.

“Now they’re going to hit us. If we come out of phase, the rest are waiting to fire. Helm, make a run for it. When they catch up, we’ll turn and fight.” Kila shouted, “All hands, battle stations! Shuttles and fighters, head for empire space. Fighter squadrons, do not—I repeat—do not remain behind to help us. Take the children you have to safety.”

No one mentioned the shuttles and fighters didn’t have the range to make it to Kalquorian space. The pilots would have to get as far from what promised to be a short battle between the spyship and the prime defenders and hope the spy arm of the fleet would be able to pick them up later. They might survive.

Meanwhile, Kila still had three hundred fifty children on board. He refused to look at the frightened faces on his bridge. The teens were quiet and remained in their assigned places, reminded by Marci and Darci keep still to give the captain and his crew the room they needed to work.

“Engineering, I want everything. Full speed, including the juice I added for this party.”

Lokmi knew the score. Usually, he’d argue about safety parameters and the likelihood of the engines blowing apart thanks to Kila’s tinkering. This time he simply said, “You’ve got it, Captain. We’ll keep them running as long as we can.”

“Enemy warships are deploying their single-man fighters. Some are coming for us, some for our shuttles and fighters.” Jado had gained control of his rage and spoke with the cool efficiency of a trained warrior.

“Focus our fire on those chasing the smaller craft. Give the shuttles in particular the chance to get away.” The shuttles held up to twenty children apiece, while each fighter had room for only one. Every life was precious, but Kila had to focus on saving as many as possible. At least the fighters had a decent chance to maneuver and battle their way free of danger.

“Firing spread. We’re taking hits from the GC fighters, Captain.”

“Defensive shields holding for now,” the weapons subcommander at Jado’s side reported. “Minimal damage.”

“Helm, what are those prime defenders doing?”

“Catching up, Captain. They’ll be in firing range in five minutes.”

“Run program E-K-Seven.”

“Perfect,” Piras said. “I like that program.”

Kila glanced at Piras, who bent to the captain’s computer console next to him. His Dramok’s fingers flew over the controls while he muttered further commands to the system. Whatever his clanmate was up to couldn’t possibly save their asses against such odds, but Kila was glad to have the expertise on his side. Piras would buy them valuable minutes. Any life saved would be a victory.

It was a shame Kila wouldn’t be around to celebrate it.

“We’re fending off most their fighters from our smaller vessels. A few have gotten through the spread, and our fighters are taking them out,” Jado reported.

“Keep it up. Give those children every inch of space you can.”

Kila toyed with the idea of ordering Hope to the bridge. He wanted her close when the finish came. Lokmi too, but his Imdiko wouldn’t leave Engineering as long as he could coax the ship to fly. Kila had no doubt Hope likewise wouldn’t budge from the frightened children in the shuttle bay, where she’d been transmitting Cheryl’s statement.

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