by Tim C Taylor
“And if through no fault of your own you fail to deliver on stopping the Cull, you won’t be breaking a commitment because you’ve never made one,” she said.
“No!” he almost shouted the word. “That’s not why. The Cull will be lifted from us, I swear it. Why won’t you trust me on this?”
She only wished she could. But she didn’t say the words, biting them back, knowing how much they would hurt him, hurt them. Instead, she shook her head and forced a smile. “Look, enough of the arguments for one day, okay? Get out of here and let me finish getting dressed. I’ve now got less than an hour until the final command conference before we liberate this system. I need to get my head in the right place first.”
He looked as if he would have said more, or perhaps he was waiting for her to, but neither of them did. The moment passed. Arun shook his head, pushed himself away from the bulkhead, and left.
— Chapter 02 —
Arun studied the screens and felt deep satisfaction. The New Empire forces had been swept from the Pravlix system and Xin was okay. Xin was okay! Having established that, he could afford to dismiss her from his thoughts and concentrate on what he should be doing.
Ever since his days as a cadet, Arun had been lauded as a strategic genius – that was what had marked him out – but in the earliest years of the Legion he’d had little opportunity to utilize that talent. But as the scope of the Legion’s operations had expanded, so had Arun’s opportunity to shine, to show what he was made of and justify the faith so many people had placed in him.
The Legion now had two fleets, their original task force swelled by the new ships built at Khallini as well as reinforcements from the Littorane homeworld, which had gone into full production even before they set out. They had new weapons and tactics, which neither side in the White Knights’ conflict had seen before, and – perhaps most telling of all – they had the Night Hummers, enabling the actions of both fleets to be coordinated irrespective of distances involved without burning through a costly reserve of chbit entanglements, a restriction that had hampered them during that First Tranquility Campaign against Tawfiq and the Hardits.
Under Arun’s strategic command, victory follow victory for the Legion. In truth, the whole thing had proved a lot easier than he anticipated. The New Empire’s 3rd Fleet had been the dominant force in this sector of space, the hammer that had smashed the opposition and driven all before them. Having defeated the 3rd Fleet, progress was a lot swifter than he could have dreamed of. The war was being fought over too wide an area, both sides committed in too many theaters to concentrate sufficient strength in any one place – the 3rd Fleet had been an exception, benefiting from exactly the same factors that now worked in the Legion’s favor.
The recent battle had been a case in point. In the past the Legion had overcome theoretically superior forces, whereas now they were being confronted by inferior ones hastily gathered to oppose them. It made a pleasant change to find themselves outgunning and outnumbering the enemy. He knew the dangers of complacency, but it was difficult not to succumb when they were operating from a position of such strength. That didn’t rule out individual casualties, of course, hence his fretting over Xin. Why she couldn’t take a step back from the front line he’d never know… but then she wouldn’t be Xin.
Arun sighed, finding it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand. Everyone knew that a major battle lay ahead of them and that each minor victory brought it closer. Things wouldn’t be so easy once they reached the White Knights’ homeworld, where rebel forces were mustered in strength. Theoretically he was supposed to be calculating the rate of advance of the two fleets given recent actions, coordinating their approach so that both arrived in the White Knights’ system together, converging on two fronts, maximizing their strength and preventing the New Empire from concentrating their defenses to take them on individually. His command team had learned to leave him alone at such times, which at least meant his current distraction wouldn’t be noted.
He missed Springer, and he missed Del-Marie. The latter had developed into as close a friend as Arun had these days, except for Xin of course, filling the gap that Hortez’s death and Springer’s estrangement had created, but Del-Marie had stayed behind to negotiate with the natives on Tallerman-3 after the Legion had swept the New Empire forces from the system. The Tallermanians could prove useful allies and Arun was keen to recruit them to the Legion’s cause, but they were showing little enthusiasm for the prospect, preferring to be left alone. At the very least, Arun intended to use the planet as a staging post. Khallini’s mudsuckers were an invaluable resource, but Arun was acutely aware of how stretched the lines of communication back to Khallini had become, and of how vulnerable the suckers were while confined to just one small world. Khallenes, he corrected himself, remembering Del-Marie’s dismay when he referred to their valuable allies as suckers. Tallerman-3 provided an environment that, on the face of it, would suit the Khallenes perfectly, and the plan was to station some of them there, where any new innovations would be more immediately accessible to Legion forces.
At best, Arun hoped that the Tallermanians would commit some of their dour but competent soldiers to supplement the strength of his Marines, but that might prove beyond even Del-Marie’s abilities.
His train of thought was interrupted by a communications beep, signaling that the officer on duty wanted to talk to him. He opened a channel, knowing that it had to be something important for them to disturb him.
“Yes?”
The face of a middle-aged woman confronted him. He ought to know her name, and recognized her as one of the officers woken from cryo back on Khallini, but her identity escaped him for the moment.
“General, sorry to trouble you, but we have an urgent communication from Ambassador Sandure on Tallerman-3.”
Speak of the devil. “Via Night Hummer?”
“No, sir, direct visual.”
That was concerning. What could be so important that Del would burn chbits when there were Hummers available? “Very well, patch him through.”
Del-Marie’s face appeared, replacing that of the officer. Concern was apparent in every aspect of his features.
“Ambassador Sandure,” Arun said.
“General, we have a problem.”
Arun could hear the tension in his voice. “I’m listening.”
“We’re about to be invaded.”
“What? Clarify.”
Del drew a deep breath. “I think it will be easier to simply show you.”
The image switched to a depiction of the Tallerman inner system. The scene was decorated by multiple pinpoint lights; ships. A fleet, and a large one at that. Arun was stunned. This couldn’t be the New Empire’s first or second fleet – Arun knew where they were: too far away to worry about – unless the intel was wrong, and the enemy had somehow blindsided them.
“Have they tried to communicate?” Arun asked.
“No, and all our own overtures have gone unanswered. As yet, we’ve no idea who they are.”
“Hostile though, you think.”
“Judging by the way they’ve taken out facilities in the outer system, yes; definitely hostile.”
“Frakk!” Arun’s mind whirled, trying to make sense of this. “All right, Del, keep us informed as much as you can, and do whatever you have to in order to survive. We’re coming for you.”
“Say again, General. Your words sounded like madness. Something about coming back for me.”
“I know, Del. If Tallerman is facing invasion, then your battles will be won or lost years before my fleet could reach you. You are a valuable asset, Ambassador. If Tallerman falls, then I order you not to fall with it. Stay alive. Besides, Tallerman is at least friendly to the Legion even if not yet a formal ally. Every brass cog inside my head is telling me to counterattack without delay. That it’s more important to first win the moral victory of punishing any encroachment on the Legion’s sphere of influence than to press ahead toward the Emperor. We have
to show that we can’t be messed with.”
“Understood, General. And for what it’s worth, Arun, I agree with your assessment.”
“Stay safe, Del. Try to make my presence unnecessary. McEwan out.”
Arun broke the connection. He’d meant what he said to Del-Marie, though not for any sentimental reasons. They couldn’t afford to take on a potentially strong enemy at the White Knight homeworld while a powerful foe lurked at their backs. He had no intention of seeing his forces caught between a rock and a hard place – they had to deal with whatever this new threat might be before they could prosecute the mission.
“Lieutenant Mishkov,” he said, having remembered the officer’s name.
“Yes, General.” Her face appeared before him once more.
“I’m on my way up to you. Prepare the fleet for a deceleration burn, and have navigation set a new course. We’re going back to Tallerman-3.”
“Aye, sir! Sir… while you were talking with the ambassador, I received reports of unidentified military vessels detected in Lyre-Draconis and Occam-Beta. And… standby… ‘K’ Fleet reports they are under attack.”
“Mother dog! ‘K’ Fleet is in transit between star systems.”
“Yes, sir.”
The news stunned Arun. Neither side in the Civil War possessed the technology to intercept a fleet at cruising speed. Who the frakk was doing this? A nearly forgotten name came to his lips. Amilx. Could this be their move?
“Don’t sit there talking with me, Mishkov. Sound general quarters. Ready the fleet for battle. Someone’s trying to take down the Legion in a single blow, and we could be next.”
— Chapter 03 —
Romulus set the Mark1 Mustang on autopilot and turned his attention fully to the delightful purpose of this pleasure jaunt.
“Are you sure you’re not talking crap?” asked Janna. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Behind his grin, Romulus hid the hurt that after all these years she didn’t quite trust him.
“Favors called in,” he explained with a shrug. “Backs scratched, and a whole galaxy of groveling. That’s what it took. Dodger is taking my place on patrol so I could take this old boat out for a spin with my girl.”
“Your girl? I’m not your anything.”
He laughed.
She punched him in the stomach. It chodding hurt.
“Speaking of favors, you owe me too,” he said mock seriously. “I saved your life back at Tranquility. Rescued my beautiful princess from a falling space elevator.”
“That was Remus. Not you.”
“Brothers share and share alike.”
Janna frowned. The alien symbiote he had passed on to her had hardened her skin into leathery hexagonal plates in shades of gold and green. Beautiful though it was, her armored skin muted her facial expressions, especially since her eyebrows had fallen out.
“I don’t like to owe anyone favors,” she said.
“Quit messing me around, Janna. I thought you were as up for this as I am.”
She punched him in the shoulder, a playful blow hard enough to make him yelp. Couldn’t she do anything gently? He grinned; he could think of a few things.
“You’re too sensitive,” she said. “I need to roughen you up. Starting right now. Did you do what I asked?”
Romulus’s face split into a wide smile of pure joy. God, he loved this woman so much it hurt. He would crawl on his belly over poisoned flechettes just to keep her safe.
And she was fun. Oh, so much fun.
He had spent weeks perfecting his next move. He waited a few more heart-racing moments to enjoy watching her squirm in anticipation in her acceleration couch, and then he snapped his fingers.
The special program he had embedded into the smartfabric uniforms now activated.
Their uniforms unpeeled.
Romulus had seen a video of an Earth fruit called an apple, from which the peel had been removed into an astonishingly long spiral. He watched the top of Janna’s collar unwind around the back of her neck before coming back for another bite, and then another. The spiral of peeled uniform grew around her as her throat was bared. The pale green upper slopes of her breasts sucked at his gaze as hungrily as a singularity.
Janna watched like a hungry predator as Romulus was himself unwrapped. He found he enjoyed watching her excitement even more than the slow reveal of her parasite-hardened flesh.
They were soon unpeeled. Neither wore anything underneath.
“Well, hello,” he said with a flick of his hairless eyebrow ridge.
“Shut up and touch me,” she replied.
He didn’t. Not yet.
Janna reached over and started running her palms over his chest, but he was content to admire her with his gaze for a moment before moving in for more tactile pleasures.
To most people based at Khallini-4 they were both hideously disfigured freaks. Romulus never took offence at this sentiment. How could he? Janna was the most beautiful person in all creation.
He took his time to survey the delights presented before him. Where would he touch her first?
Janna made a grab for his hand. She wanted him to place it on her breast, but he had anticipated her move and dodged her. He speared his hands instead through her hair, a spiky riot of blues and violets streaked with iridescent red. When he’d first met her, auburn hair had fallen to her shoulders in loose curls. Janna’s hair had revealed that the symbiote that gave them their armor was doing more than embed itself in their skin. It was altering their DNA.
How an organism from another planet had attached itself to such a specifically Earth-based bio-mechanism as DNA was of interest to a lot of people, most of all the mysterious aliens they called mudsuckers. But none was interested as much as Romulus.
They kissed.
The light touch provided an almost chaste form of intimacy, but Romulus liked to build the passion gently, to Janna’s perpetual irritation.
Today things felt different, though. Outside of the old X-Boat’s cockpit was hard vacuum. This was nothing like making love in the bowels of a troop ship where they were protected by frames and bulkheads and an armored hull.
Romulus stretched out his fingers between Janna’s breasts, and traced a line down past the patch of still-human skin beneath, and down over more scales to her harness release.
A few moments of fumbling freefall later and Romulus was beginning to wonder whether he should have set the X-Boat to a micro-g acceleration: sex in a cramped two-seater Mustang cockpit was proving to be a challenge.
“Shush!” Janna pressed a finger to his lips. “You’re about to complain. Don’t. It’s all part of the fun.”
He kissed her hungrily. “I love you, Janna.” He laughed. “In anyone but you, being right so often would be a pain in the butt.”
She slapped his ass. The little skangat, it really stung.
“You want pain in your butt?” she teased. “I can do that.”
Her sudden movement made her bounce off the inside of the cockpit and then ricochet off the flight console. He caught her on the rebound and wrapped his legs around her. They could bounce around as much as they liked, just so long as they did so together.
The flight console screamed an alarm.
“I don’t think it approves,” she joked.
Laughter filled her voice, but Romulus couldn’t share her happiness. His gaze was glued to the tactical update on the console.
No! Not now! No, no, no!
“What is it?” Janna demanded.
“Multiple bogies.”
“Shit! How many?”
Romulus swallowed hard. The galaxy had such an evil sense of timing. “I can’t tell, Janna,” he said trying to sound calm. “The Mustang’s tactical system can’t cope with any more than a thousand tracks.”
— Chapter 04 —
Romulus resisted the overwhelming need to act, to do something, while he assessed the tactical situation.
With the Leviathan – and her escorts filled
with soldiers – safely away in deep space en route to the main theater of combat operations, the Khallini system flagship was the Beowulf, commanded by Captain Lubricant. Several troop ships and two new carriers laden with completed X-Boats were under construction in the orbital dockyard, but they had no defending fleet.
The harsh truth was that the advance of the Human Legion relied upon a vigorous offence to seize the initiative and keep their enemies off balance. They didn’t have the resources to siphon off ships and defend every captured system – it would rob their advance of impetus and present targets to be destroyed in detail.
Khallini had not been left undefended, however. A torus of automated gun platforms encircled the dockyard, and the moons of Khallini-4 were bristling with missiles and squadrons of drone craft. The minefield that had caused such trouble to the New Empire’s 3rd Fleet had been repaired and expanded.
On the tac-console, a smudge of red too thick to resolve into individual markers showed the enemy assault. It was advancing on Beowulf.
But that’s impossible! Somehow, the enemy had penetrated the entire sensor network and the minefield without being noticed. Who in the galaxy could possibly field the technology to pull that off?
His course of action was clear. He had to rejoin his patrol defending Beowulf and the orbital dockyard.
Training took over and he scrambled into action. Moments later he and Janna were secure inside fast-fit emergency pressure suits, strapped into their couches and speeding to protect Beowulf, which had been his home virtually his entire life.
The harnesses were a habit that made little sense in the X-Boat the instant Romulus had activated the momentum absorption system. This was the little fighter craft’s secret. It could accelerate at the limit of its engine’s thrust without crushing its inhabitants, and come to a stop in an instant, because momentum could be channeled into a Klein-Manifold region. Conservation of momentum remained a universal rule, but only if you looked at the big picture. Squint and you could appear to bend even this most rigorous law of nature.