Page 54 of Desperate Measures

The bridge lurched under Kila’s feet. He braced himself and Piras against his computer podium as the children yelped and tumbled on each other. “Nothing beats making the last ride of the day count,” he laughed.

“Give my compliments to your helmsmen for not crashing us into anyone at this pace.”

“Thank you for everything, my Imdiko. Including forgiving me for fucking with your precious engines every chance I got.”

“Who says I forgave you?” Lokmi chuckled. “Seven minutes until critical.”

“That’ll be about right.”

“I’ll see you on the other side, my Nobek.” Then, because Lokmi was almost as reserved as a Nobek when it came to sentimentalities, he shocked Kila anew when he added, “I love you, you ridiculous speed freak. Chief Engineer signing off.”

The com went quiet. His heart full, Kila murmured, “And I, you.”

There were times it was acceptable for a Nobek to speak his heart, even if no one else could hear it.

He’d been tapping furiously on his computer the whole while, keeping track of the fight and the ship’s violently failing life. He eyed the gauge displaying how close the engines were to overload and a beautiful big bang to add to the self-destruct sequence he’d set off, in which he’d direct the vessel to dump its plasma reserves in the mix.

His little spyship, its weaponry built more for defense than carrying the fight to its foes, had destroyed a score of GC warships on its way to destiny…a glorious count by anyone’s standards. Now for the big finish.

As a section of the bridge’s ceiling crashed inches behind Kila and Piras…neither reacted except to grip the captain’s podium to stay upright as the bridge shuddered harder than before…Kila searched the flickering main vid. He noted a particularly large knot of enemy warships a few degrees starboard. They looked the right distance away to coincide with the engines’ imminent violent end.

“Helm, head for the enemy cluster bearing twenty-three-point-seven degrees starboard,” he called. “Put us right in the middle of them.”

“Yes, Captain.” Esren altered course, zigzagging them toward their final fate.

Kila noted the many human eyes trained his way, the youngling Earthers watching him for any sign of what was to come. He eased his trademark vicious leer to the most comforting version of a smile he could manage. He winked. “You’ve been brave, my young friends, showing true warrior spirit. Now we’ll give them a surprise they won’t believe.”

Perhaps the Darks wouldn’t believe it. They knew he had children on board and probably thought the Kalquorians’ devotion to saving them, no doubt a weakness in the All’s twisted hive mind, would keep Kila from doing what was necessary.

We have no hope anyway, he thought. Might as well make their deaths count for something.

He felt a twinge of guilt nonetheless as most of the younglings answered his smile, wink, and promise of vengeance with their own tremulous smiles and nods. They believed in him, and they were right to do so, but it was for the wrong reason…hope for another day of life, which was in reality finishing all too soon.

He tore his gaze from those youthful faces and tapped his com for one last goodbye. Hope answered.

“How much longer, my Nobek?”

“Almost done. How is everyone there?”

“Hanging on. Cheryl has them playing a game. Every time we’re hit, the kids yell, ‘Boom, shake/feels like an earthquake/we’re still here/we have no fear/we have the might/we’ll win this fight.’”

Kila laughed and checked the engines. Three minutes to critical. The vid showed they were nearing their target. “That’s quite the battle cry.”

“I think it’s an old football cheer, but it fits the occasion pretty well.” As the ship bucked again, she said, “Listen!”

In the background, he could hear dozens of voices raised in the chant, Besral’s thunderous bellow among the piping tones. Then shouts of laughter at the end. The children’s bravery was the most beautiful, heartrending sound he’d ever heard.

“It’ll be quick.” Two minutes.

“Good.” Hope sighed. “I love you, Kila. Thank you for nine wonderful years.”

“Thank you, my Matara. I love you too.” Thank the ancestors the Nobek code allowed him to speak such words to his woman. Throughout their relationship, Kila hadn’t stinted in letting Hope know how he felt.

Because they’d said it all, there was nothing more to add. They clicked off.

One minute. They had entered the cluster of warships Kila intended to destroy. Blasts rang and rocked the spyship, triggering more alarms.

Kila drew a deep breath. “Computer, enact program Kila—”

---