by Drew Avera
He pressed the accelerator and the vehicle darted off, the back end of it shifting from side to side as it fought to maintain traction. Having not driven a vehicle in years, it was difficult to rely on muscle memory.
“What do you think Anki will say?” Deis asked, breaking the silence as they vehicle sped towards the city.
“That’s what I keep asking myself, but I don’t think she will be happy.”
“That’s not an answer,” Deis replied.
Brendle sighed, not looking at his friend and brother. “I think her anger towards me will drive a wedge between us. This will make twice that I made a decision without her and one that she will not like. I think she will tell me it’s over.”
Deis reclined back in his seat, his face ashen. “I hate to say it, Captain. But I think you’re right.”
Silence fell once again, leaving Brendle to the treacherous reaches of his own mind. There was no way to come back from the situation without causing more harm. That was the damnable thing about it. Still, Deis’s words echoes between his ears, massaging their way into his heart.
Me too, Brendle thought.
Me too.
38
Crase
Pila looked larger as they orbited the station. If not for the circumstances surrounding his crews’ involvement centering around blackmailing him with Tesera’s life in the balance, he could not have imagined a more fitting climax to his journey towards reclaiming the Replicade. For Crase, as harsh as it sounded, things were shaping up to be worth it all.
“This is the PNN Eruga requesting permission to enter atmosphere and land,” Esma said into the radio next to Crase. The man did a good job of disguising his voice, taking on an accent that hid his distinctly Greshian accent. Of course, once they got a look of his pale skin, they would know who they were dealing with. At that point, it would be too late.
“Eruga, our records say you were destroyed during the attack. How is it you’re returning to Pila if you were turned into space dust?” The voice on the other side of the com sounded surprised—and nervous.
“Ground support, I don’t know where you received your information, but this ship has been in overhaul on Farax for the better part of two cycles. We haven’t been home since before the attack; gods rest their souls.” Esma made a smirk that almost made Crase chortle as he drove the ship nearer the Pilatian station.
“Standby, Eruga. I’ll ask for clearance,” the voice said.
Esma cut off the hot-mic and turned to Crase. “Do you think they’re buying it?”
Crase shrugged. “The transponder was untampered with. They have no reason to believe we are not who we say we are. For all they know, we are a lost asset returning home. If I was in charge, I would be elated to have a ship for defensive posture. Denying our access would be a step backwards from a military standpoint.”
Esma nodded, but said nothing, holding the mic in his hand as he waited for the ground support to return. He didn’t have to wait long.
“Eruga, you have permission to land. You can set your ship on the southern most landing zone. There’s a spot large enough to accommodate you. We shall send a vehicle to collect your crew.”
“Affirmative, Eruga will land in the southern most zone and standby for a vehicle.”
“Welcome home, Eruga.”
“Thank you, ground support, it’s good to be back.” Esma smiled as he set the mic down, glaring at Crase wickedly. “How about that?”
“The vehicle may come with armed guards if they don’t believe we are who we say we are. We need to be prepared for that,” Crase said.
“We have weapons; it shouldn’t be an issue. Besides, how many troops do you think they have with most of their population destroyed with their home world?”
“I don’t want to be caught off guard is all,” Crase replied as he approached the station, the Eruga close to entering atmosphere. He keyed up the ship’s communication system and spoke. “We’re less than a minute from entering atmosphere. If you’re not strapped in, then it was nice knowing you.” He was lying about the last part, but it felt right to say it.
“Where do you think the Replicade is located?” Esma asked as he tightened his restraints.
Crase kept his focus on the monitors as the ship hit turbulence. “In a perfect world we’ll set down right next to her.”
“And in an imperfect world?”
Crase enlarged the monitor displaying the landing area and pointed at a large vessel four times the size of anything else on the screen. “That won’t be the case today, Esma. Meet the Replicade.”
With his word, a smile stretched across his face as the thought of revenge caused his heart to race. The best part was the crew had no idea he was coming.
It will only make their death more satisfying with the surprised look on their stupid faces, he thought. Finally, I’ll have what’s mine.
Epilogue: Emperor Direla
The sunrises on Greshia always made him smile. This day would be no different. For more than four decades, his power stretched across the galaxy. Pockets of rebellious forces proved no match for his fleet and planet killing ships, and with children spread across the expanse, it was only a matter of time before he owned the known universe.
Still, there was cause for concern. Namely, his daughter Herma exiling herself on a station in the Pilatian sector. Her bleeding heart seeking to rectify the means by which his power grew. She knew, as he did, that he would not lift a finger that could bring harm to her. But that did not mean he would not find a way to make the survivors of that world remember to whom they would serve.
Or die.
“Emperor, I have news to report,” Calias said as he entered. The man was short, balding in a way that made him seem older than his age, but his loyalty to the crown went unmatched. The man held a tablet in his hands in front of him like a shield.
“What is it, Calias? I was watching the horizon as a new day dawned on my kingdom.”
“There’s news from your daughter,” the man said meekly.
“What of Herma? Is she in danger?” Direla turned to his most trusted advisor.
“No, Emperor. It’s Arterius.”
“I’m surprised to hear from her. Isn’t she deployed on one of my ships?”
“Indeed. She sends word that the King Slayer was breeched by one of Haranger’s men. They narrowly escaped with their lives.”
“So, the miserable bastard is going after my daughter, is he?” Direla tightened his grip on the railing of the balcony and bit his tongue. The problem with being royalty is that an open mouth revealed too much of the person speaking. He did not want to show his weakness, the love of his children, even if the only witness was the closest thing to a friend he had.
“I wish it was as simple as that,” Calias replied, swallowing hard as Direla’s eyes darted towards him. “It appears the captain of that ship was once one of Haranger’s men as well. Ilium Gyl defected and Arterius says he is loyal to the crown; not a threat.”
Direla sighed. “She is too willing to accept a lie if it gives her what she wants. She’s just like her mother. This Ilium Gyl, what history does he have within my Navy?”
“He was commissioned and served the last several years on the Telran as the security officer. He served a brief stint on a scout ship before finding his way onboard the King Slayer. The death of the captain resulted in his promotion.”
Direla turned to Calias and folded his arms over his chest as the morning light glistened over the dewy ground below. “Arte believes he is not a threat. Should we take her word, or should we remove him before he turns?” He knew what answer he wanted to hear, but he trusted Calias enough to consider a different opinion. Fortunately, his servant did not disappoint.
“It is my opinion that anyone who has shown loyalty to the traitor Haranger is an enemy to the crown. He may have turned his back on his former employer, but that does not negate the fact he sent a portion of his life in defiance to your rule, Emperor.”
&
nbsp; Direla smiled. “Do you believe that my daughter feels this way about him because of a professional or personal relationship?”
Calias frowned, his face reddening before he spoke. “She says she loves him, sir.”
Like a kick to the gut, Direla’s composure weakened. He hesitated to speak but could not contain himself. “Yet again, Arte proves she is more like her mother than I. Making decisions of the heart is not the best way to decide the future of our empire. Keep tabs on the situation. I will give her her heart’s desire, but if Gyl proves to be someone we cannot trust, I want his head.”
“Very well, Emperor. It shall be done.”
“And send her a message that I’m onto her. I don’t want her thinking she is pulling anything over on me. Perhaps knowing his life is on the line will convince her to end her infatuation or ensure he does not step out of bounds.”
“Yes, Emperor.” Calias turned and walked away, leaving Emperor Direla alone once again. The light of the sun already beamed higher in the horizon, the purplish hue fading to a muted pink.
“I missed it,” he whispered under his breath. “For the first time in years, I missed the sunrise.”
Direla stepped away from the balcony and entered his room. On the far wall, a portrait of his family covered from corner to corner. All thirty of his children smiling, each born of a different mother. Of all his children, the sons were the only ones who obeyed him without question. His daughters, each seemed to take his patience for granted.
But it was an opportunity to learn. His own father taught him that. Each generation has something more to offer than the previous one. Herma had unapologetic compassion. Arterius had unbridled passion and the desire to strike out on her own. Both would be the death of him, but that was the burden of being a father.
Direla fell into a chair and gazed at the image of Arte, her dark hair cropped above her shoulders. She picked her own destiny, to go undercover on a planet killer to see firsthand what her father’s destiny required.
“So what if she’s not just like me,” he said to himself. “She is the maker of her own destiny. I just hope she seizes it before letting it slip through her fingers. If anything, the loss of her mother should have taught her that. If not, the loss of her newfound love will.”
With that thought, his smile returned.
Next in the Alorian Wars
Coming soon is the conclusion to The Alorian Wars: Darker Waters. Stay tuned!
About Drew Avera
Drew Avera is a Navy veteran and the bestselling author of The Alorian Wars. He grew up in Mississippi and enlisted in the Navy at seventeen. From there, he received training as an Aviation Electrician’s Mate and has deployed four times in support of operations in the Persian Gulf. Drew began his writing career in 2012 and has published more than twenty books since, mostly in the space opera and cyberpunk genres, both of which inspire his music production as well. When not writing, or creating music, Drew spends his time with his family in Virginia.
You can learn more about Drew, and sign up for email updates, by visiting www.drewavera.com.
Also by Drew Avera
Series Titles:
The Alorian Wars
The Dead Planet Series
The Syndicate Series
Broken Arrow Mercenary Force
Consulate (June 2020)
Standalone Books:
Skye Byrn
Attack on Vulta Station