At Circle’s End
Book Three of The Mako Saga
by
Ian J. Malone
PUBLISHED BY: Theogony Books
Copyright © 2020 Ian J. Malone
All Rights Reserved
* * * * *
Get the free Four Horsemen prelude story “Shattered Crucible”
and discover other titles by Theogony Books at:
http://chriskennedypublishing.com/
* * * * *
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
* * * * *
Cover by Elartwyne Estole
* * * * *
Contents
Prologue
Part One
Chapter 1: Lost Highway
Chapter 2: Competition
Chapter 3: Rendezvous
Chapter 4: Happy Hour
Chapter 5: Overlook
Chapter 6: Reconciled
Chapter 7: Under the Hood
Chapter 8: Familiar Allies
Chapter 9: Fractured
Chapter 10: A Ghost’s Return
Chapter 11: Man in the Machine
Chapter 12: Analysis Under Fire
Chapter 13: Disclosure
Chapter 14: Fireworks
Part Two
Chapter 15: Refuge
Chapter 16: Distress Call
Chapter 17: Standing Enemy
Chapter 18: Descent
Chapter 19: Unseen
Chapter 20: Incursion
Chapter 21: Turnabout
Chapter 22: Divergence
Chapter 23: Undaunted
Chapter 24: Hail
Chapter 25: Choices
Chapter 26: A Brother’s Instinct
Chapter 27: Finding a Mark
Chapter 28: Discovered
Chapter 29: Intruder
Chapter 30: Lost and Found
Chapter 31: Good-bye and Hello
Part Three
Chapter 32: Reversal of Fortunes
Chapter 33: Turn
Chapter 34: Flag of White
Chapter 35: Indebted
Chapter 36: Stay of Execution
Chapter 37: Face-to-Face
Chapter 38: Voices from Beyond
Chapter 39: On the Move
Chapter 40: No Way Out
Chapter 41: Spaced
Chapter 42: Valkyrie
Chapter 43: Farewells
Chapter 44: Homecoming
About the Author
Looking for the Latest in Scifi Goodness?
Excerpt from Book One of the Salvage Title Trilogy
Excerpt from Book One of the Singularity War
Excerpt from Devil Calls the Tune
Excerpt from Book One of the Earth Song Cycle
* * * * *
Prologue
Kurgorian Senior Pralah Tih Saphierius stood frozen in the combat information center of his ship, his golden eyes fixed in stunned disbelief on the cataclysmic scene below. Around him, the members of his crew rose slowly to their feet, their red-scaled faces clad in the same confused look of tortured outrage that Saphierius knew himself to be wearing. No one said a word, for no one could, but everyone was thinking the same thing: extinction-level event.
Dear gods. Saphierius stepped toward the forward viewport and watched as another fiery cascade of quakes rocked his homeworld’s surface, its once-brilliant red countenance growing darker by the moment as ash and particulates flooded its atmosphere.
“Pralah, s-sir?” the ship’s ceda stuttered in his native tongue.
Saphierius turned to answer his first in command. “Ceda?”
“Sir, what…what are your orders?”
Saphierius stroked his chin scales.
“Sir?” the ceda repeated. “Sir, what are we to do?”
What are we to do, indeed? Saphierius broke from his thoughts and turned to his reconnaissance officer. “Life signs?”
The Kurgorian blinked several times at the ever-dwindling lights in his display. “Fifty thousand, maybe a hundred thousand, sir, and most of those are gathered toward Gaulus in the southern hemisphere.”
“What of the capitol?” Saphierius turned toward the officer. “Has there been any word from the council?”
He shook his head. “None, sir. To be honest, it’s highly doubtful they survived.”
“Explain.”
The officer waved a series of finger gestures over his terminal, culminating with a single-fingered tap on the glass top. “According to the early data, the blast originated somewhere near the Lestuza itself. Anything in a three-thousand-kilometer radius of ground zero would’ve been incinerated in the initial blast.” He turned back to his superior. “The council chamber would’ve been at the heart of that, sir.”
Saphierius turned away and fought back the weight of the disaster to search for solutions. “What of those near Gaulus? They would’ve been well beyond that radius. Can we get to them?”
The officer hung his head. “I’m sorry, Pralah, but we cannot. For the moment, yes, those people are alive. But given the level of radiation they’ve been exposed to, even that far out, none of them will last a day. All we’d achieve by going down there is getting our own people killed.”
The ceda uttered a hiss through his razor teeth. “I don’t understand. Our security network is beyond reproach. How could something like this have happened? And moreover, who could’ve been responsible?”
Saphierius folded his arms. “Only time will answer that question—time and information. I’ve heard talk for cycles now about a possible Fausen uprising in the outer territories. Add to that our recent losses on Aura, and there could’ve been any number of races behind this attack.”
“That’s absurd.” The ceda snorted. “The Fausens wouldn’t dare stand against us for fear that we’d crush them under our boots.”
Saphierius’ golden eyes narrowed.
“Apologies, sir.” The ceda’s gaze plummeted. “I meant no disrespect.”
Saphierius studied the newest member of his crew. Pralah Elzon was right about you, my young ceda. You are talented, but you also have much to learn. He crossed to the floor to the comm station. “Open a channel to all ships in the system.”
The skinny officer waved over his terminal then nodded back to the pralah that he was on.
“Attention, all ships in the Kurgorian fleet. This is Pralah Tih Saphierius of the warbird Vanxus. Today, our people have suffered a blow unlike any in recorded history, a blow that…” He broke off, faltering. “It’s a blow that has cost us our home. At this time, we know neither how this happened, nor why, nor who is responsible. All we know is that, as of right now, Kurgoria and everyone on it is lost.” Saphierius searched the faces of his crew and saw a range of emotions, from anger to fear to loss to hate. He empathized with them. “Rest assured, my friends—there will be time for grieving. But that time cannot be today. For as of this moment, nothing less than the very survival of our species is at stake. Stay where you are, and await further instructions. Vanxus out.”
The ceda waited for his commander to step away from the console. “Pralah, sir. If I may?”
Saphierius stayed him with a hand then returned to his
comm officer. “Do we have a connection to the Harsis system?”
The comm officer scanned his instruments. “Barely, sir, but yes. We do have a signal.”
“Good. Raise our outpost there, and alert them to what has happened, as well as our impending arrival. Once that is done, issue orders to all ships within range to make the best possible speed for that location. Tell them next check-in is in three hours.” Seeing his subordinate acknowledge, Saphierius led the ceda into an alcove next to the tactical station so they could talk alone. “What is it?”
“Sir, if we leave the system now, we risk forfeiting valuable evidence that may aid us in learning who did this. With all due deference, we simply cannot let that happen.”
Saphierius shook his head. “Our probes will gather much of that by entering Kurgoria’s atmosphere in our stead. Right now, our focus must remain on preserving lives at all cost.”
“An excellent compromise, sir,” the ceda said. “Will there be anything else?”
“Yes.” Saphierius rubbed his face, his mind beginning to swirl with details over everything that would need to be done. “Once we arrive at Harsis, I want you to coordinate with outpost officials and all incoming ship commanders to set up a meeting, in person and on site. I want it soon.”
The ceda raised an eyebrow. “A meeting, sir?”
Saphierius nodded. “The days ahead will not be easy for us, and with the council lost, our people will need new leadership. That must come from the fleet.”
The ceda stood up straight. “On that, sir, we are in agreement. But what of our forces on Aura? Are we to recall them as well?”
“Yes, at once.”
The ceda frowned but kept his cool. “Sir, if I may. Are you sure that’s wise? The capital reservoir has been our primary source of caldrasite for hundreds of cycles. With it gone, we’ll need the Aurans’ supply now more than ever.”
Saphierius shook his head. “A valid point, Ceda, but right now, we don’t have the luxury of making it a priority.”
The ceda looked away to the viewport and kept his voice low this time. “Sir, what if it was the Aurans who did this? You saw the footage yourself. You know what they’re capable of.”
Saphierius stifled a shiver. He’d been a serviceman in the Kurgorian Legion for nearly fifty-two cycles, and while he himself was no stranger to the depravities of war, he’d never seen them carried to the depths shown in last month’s surveillance feed. Never. Three centurions and two officers passed through a supposed safe zone in South Retaun only to be abducted by Clayton Zier and the Auran resistance. From there, they were stripped of their clothes then tortured, beaten, and eventually strapped to tables where they were splayed open alive to the whooping applause of Zier and his men. The screams had been the stuff of nightmares, to say nothing of the mutilated corpses that remained. The footage, meanwhile, had arrived the next morning, along with a basket of golden eyes and a note that read, “We’re watching you.”
“Pralah, sir?” the ceda asked.
Saphierius snapped back to the moment. “No. As of now, I want all our forces withdrawn to Harsis.”
“But, sir…”
“But nothing, Ceda. Those are my orders.” Saphierius felt the scales of his forehead crinkle. “The war on Aura was over long before today. You can thank our head of operations and his lack of tactical foresight for that. As for the Aurans’ role in what happened to our home, that has yet to be discerned. Barbarians though they may be, let us not forget that this is a race of people who have yet to master travel within their own system, much less interstellar travel to ours. Kurgoria has many enemies. Such is the price of our lordship over them.”
The ceda nodded, though the emotion on his face was unmistakable. “I want them dead, Pralah. The ones who did this. I don’t care who it was—the Aurans, the Fausens, whomever. I want to find them, I want to crush them, and then I want to dance on their bones for what they’ve done.”
Saphierius patted the ceda’s shoulder. “One day, my friend. One day. For now, though, our focus as leaders must be on reconstruction and the preservation of our race. That means tabling our rage for another day in the name of recognizing the grander picture. Understood?”
The ceda gave a slow nod.
“Good,” Saphierius said. “Now, return to your post, and let’s prepare to break orbit.”
The ceda saluted with a closed fist to his chest then turned to go.
“You’re a fine young officer, Kai-Ool, and a born leader.” Saphierius faced him. “Our people will need that in the years ahead. Learn to mind the bigger picture, and you’ll reach heights most can only dream of.”
Kai-Ool paused beneath the dim red glow of lights in Vanxus’ combat information center—the CIC—and gave a long bow of his elongated head. “Thank you, Pralah Saphierius. I exist to serve.”
* * * * *
Part One
Roughly 104 years later…
Chapter 1: Lost Highway
A voice crackled through the comm. “Hey, Top, you got a copy?”
Danny Tucker sighed into the clear night sky then peered from his cliff over the barren, snowy wasteland before him. Gimme a break, Reeg. What now? He tapped his chin to his helmet’s comm button. “Yeah, Mr. White. What do you need?”
“Mr. Green wants a status report on Mr. Black.”
Danny rolled his eyes. “Tell Mr. Green that while I appreciate his impeccable attention to detail where my equipment is concerned—again—I really don’t have time for a full-blown tech report right now. We’re kind of on a job.”
“Point taken,” Reegan said. “Sorry if we—”
Danny winced when a muffled rumble filled his ears on account of the wrestling match at the other end of the line. “Mr. White, you still with me?”
“Bossman, this is Remy!” a new voice said. “Er, damn it, I mean, it’s…” Remy cursed again in his high, chattering voice then clicked his tongue three times before concluding with his customary “kuh-kah!” of mounting frustration. “This is Mr. Green, du-duh-damn it! Mr. Green!”
Danny stayed cool so as to not make things worse. “Go ahead, Mr. Green.”
“I want you to run a bio-mech scan while you’ve got a muh-muh-minute. My biggest concerns are the actuators in Mr. Black’s juh-juh-joints. We can’t, we cah, wuh.” Two more tongue clicks. “Kuh-kah! Damn it.” Danny heard a hard bump, like the sound of a fist pounding a hard surface.
I swear, kid. If they ever find a cure for this thing of yours, I’ll foot the bill myself to see that you get it. Danny shook his head. “It’s okay, Mr. Green. Just take it easy. You were saying about my armor’s joints…?”
“Yes.” Remy swallowed hard enough for Danny to hear it. “Mr. Black’s nuh-nuh-never been exposed to these kinds of temperatures before, and I’m scared he could seize up if left to the elements tuh-too long.”
Danny exhaled and felt the warmth of his breath blow back at him from his faceplate. “Copy that, Mr. Green. Stand by.”
Danny keyed his heads-up display via mental command to Mr. Black. Access diagnostics, full scan. Execute.
Mr. Black was the field name given to Danny’s confiscated battle armor by the rest of his crew. Subsequently, it was also his field name when he was piloting the machine. Danny liked it. It was simple, straightforward. Plus, when paired with the suit’s menacing size and appearance, there was a certain ominous quality to it that was just plain badass.
“Processing,” Mr. Black said, via HUD, in bright green letters.
A stream of data flooded Danny’s right field of vision. Funny, he thought, swiping through the results with a series of blinks and eye movements. Even after months of practicing, it still creeped him out to have his onboard telemetry mainlined through his own flesh-and-blood eyes this way. Ah, the joys of using alien tech. Way more efficient than a monitor, though.
Danny halted at a biographic depicting Mr. Black in full green. “All systems are functioning within normal parameters. That good enough for you, Mr
. Green?”
“Guh-good enough, bossman,” Remy said. “Thank you, bossman.”
“Mr. White, you still on the line?”
A beat passed before Reegan answered. “Right here, Mr. Black. Go ahead.”
“What’s the status of our guests?”
A pause.
“The target just left the station and is on schedule. Should be to you in…five mikes, give or take.”
Almost time. Danny keyed his HUD with another thought. Switch to team-wide channel. Mr. Black complied. “Mr. Red, what’s your status?”
The muffled sound of whipping wind in an open microphone rattled across the comm.
“I’m in position and almost set up,” a low voice answered.
Come on, Shotz. Get with the program. Danny cast his gaze southward down the highway below and keyed his visual settings. Switch to infrared. There, squatting atop the third dune on the left, a lone rainbow-colored figure worked a long-barreled rifle. “Shake the lead out, Mr. Red. Target’s on approach, and I need everyone ready.”
“Easy for you to say.” Shotz grunted. “You’re not the one out here in twenty-below temps, freezing his slaring shells off for a measly fifteen percent of the take.”
Danny pursed his lips. “The pay’s the pay, Mr. Red. You knew that when you signed on.”
“Yeah, yeah.” The rainbow-colored man rose and put out his arms. “Listen, all I’m saying here, Top, is a few extra credits on occasion might go a long way toward increasing the ship’s morale. Think it over.”
Danny ignored the comment, though he wasn’t entirely without empathy. He’d heard the nights here on Iglyah 4 got pretty brutal, but this was downright absurd. A pot of chili for the sail home sounds pretty good right now.
At Circle's End Page 1