by Tim C Taylor
Arun was a Tactical Marine, not only bred but surgically engineered while still a boy to serve aboard the warboats of the Human Marine Corps known as Tactical Units. If he hadn’t lost his legs, he’d carry at least three times the mass of the Navy personnel who were all staring directly at him. But as a Marine, he was as built for a life serving in the void of space every bit as much as they were. That was why he knew beyond all question that he was aboard a starship, but there was something unique about the feel.
Springer’s Wolf scales hid her reaction, but the Jotuns were flicking their ear trumpets – they felt it too.
Arun was lying on the platform, held there by a comfortable acceleration which felt so natural that, even after all these years, he was certain it was 0.92g, the gravity he’d grown up with just below the surface of Tranquility-4. But this wasn’t the pseudo-gravity caused by a constant 0.92g thrust from the engines. He couldn’t say how he knew, but myriad engineered adaptations in his body, augmented by scores of semi-organic artificial senses all assured him the same thing: this gravity was real.
Artificial gravity.
He’d encountered it once before, when he had fallen through a breaching hole blasted through the hull of a stranded ship his squad was boarding. The crew had called themselves the Amilx, and although he hadn’t recognized Del-Marie Sandure at the time, one of these Amilxi had been an older version of his squadmate. The implications had terrified him, and even though he’d tried to lock them deep inside his vault of unwanted memories, he’d been haunted since that day by thoughts of the Amilxi.
Artificial gravity. Indiya had been convinced that was the least of the Amilxi’s control of nature.
The future he’d tried to leave far behind in his past was rushing to claim him, and he felt powerless to resist.
A young Navy rating pushed a wheelchair up to the dais. He helped Springer to pick up Arun and place him within. The chair he’d abandoned in Europe hovered on gravitic motors; this contraption had handles so it could be pushed, but its wheels were set at a comfortable height so he could spin them himself. It was many centuries more primitive than his normal chair, but he felt better able to face what was coming next from a seat rather than sitting with his butt on the dais.
The design told him something else too. It took consistent gravity for granted.
A door behind the crowd of Navy personnel swished open. “President on deck!” shouted someone. The Littoranes saluted and stepped aside to allow someone to pass through.
President?
She hadn’t changed.
A few more scars and lines decorated her beautiful face; a heavy limp lowered her natural poise to merely sublime levels. Other than that – she was so instantly familiar it was as if he’d seen her only yesterday.
He’d been teleported, met his daughter for the first time, and escaped death in the downed craft by mere seconds – but none of that registered against the biggest impossibility of it all. This woman before him. The one certainty in the last decades of his life was that he would never see her again.
And by the way her mouth was dropping open, the sight of him was having the exact same effect on her.
The mutual shock connected the two of them, fading out everyone else – even Grace and Springer. The moment would have stretched on indefinitely if Springer hadn’t let out a threatening growl, and Grace cleared her throat loudly.
“What the hell?” Arun whispered.
“Good to see you too, Twinkle Eyes,” breezed Lee Xin. “Did you miss me?”
2739AD. Book6 - The Battle of Earth Part 2: Restart
With the Legion defeated, and Tawfiq readying to unleash a 10,000-year war upon the entire galaxy, only a grand alliance of former enemies from across time can stem the tide in the conclusion to THE BATTLE OF EARTH…
* * *
The author wishes to thank all those who supported the making of this book. In particular, Paul Melhuish for allowing me to raid his vault of filthy Skyfirean vernacular, Hans, Mike, JR, Melissa, Donna Scott, the wonderful recon team volunteers (sorry for blowing a lot of you up), and the loyal supporters on humanlegion.com.
* * *
— Recon Team —
I wish to thank our Recon Team for this book, who volunteered to scout out the first draft, searching for hazards. This book is much better for their generous assistance.
— Tim C. Taylor
Brian Anderson
Lynda Card
Reed Fallaw Jr.
Mike Garst
Andrew Jackson
Marc Morris
Steve Salas
Will R. Smithers
Brent Spurrell
Andrew Stafford
Michael Tompkins
—— PART VI ——
GODDESS
OF THE
CAMUVELLAUNI
— Chapter 01 —
Arun McEwan
Aboard unidentified starship
How the frakk did I get here?
From his wheelchair, Arun looked around the sparsely equipped compartment into which he and the other survivors of the Hotchelpis had been dumped, plucked from the ship during its death dive into the surface of a ruined Earth city. How had he wound up here? He’d lay money on Aelingir and the other Jotun crew asking the same question. By his side, Springer was beaming distrust at the woman who had set this up, and she was doing so with such intensity that he expected her eyes would soon burn with the lilac glow that would reveal her true identity.
Arun might be wondering how the frakk he got here, but Springer would have a different question in her mind, one aimed at the woman in front of him with the smug smile, so annoyingly beautiful. How the frakk did she get here?
He willed Springer to keep calm. Her voice had been altered, her leg regrown, and the plasma burns that had melted her face were now covered by the colorful scales produced by an alien skin parasite. The galaxy believed Springer was dead, sacrificed by Arun to the White Knight Emperor. She was Lissa now, his fearsome Wolf bodyguard. And Lissa had no personal history with Lee Xin.
Springer finally noticed his attention and tore her glare away from Xin.
As for Xin herself, she acted as she always did, as if she had known how the course of events would run ever since they’d met centuries ago as cadets.
Silence hung over the compartment as everyone seemed to be catching their breath to absorb what had just happened, even the young woman who’d plucked them from certain death on the Hotchelpis. Grace had oozed confidence when she was on her rescue mission, but now she was fiddling with her ponytail, mouth agape in some kind of delayed shock. She wore the black uniform of the Human Legion but the gold sunburst on her left lapel was not a rank insignia he’d ever authorized.
How was he here? Because the young woman with the same eyes he saw every time he looked in the mirror had teleported them. Teleported! Tele-frakking-ported. How was that possible?
He was on a starship sitting in a wheelchair, and Xin was wearing a dress.
A dress.
It was a beguiling shimmer of deep blues that changed color tone as its folds wrapped beneath her breasts and fell to her ankles. What was that, silk? Wool? Plastic? Hell, he didn’t know. He’d never seen anyone wear a dress on a starship before, because such clothing didn’t work well in zero-g. For that matter, dresses didn’t come fitted with exo-muscles, air supply, extra armor over the vital organs, or fuel cells designed to connect up to SA-71s. Which was why Xin had never previously had any use for such impractical garments. Not when the two of them had been together, anyway. But it was the way Xin’s dress flowed languidly to the deck that astonished Arun most. The dress was specifically cut not only to flatter her figure, but to work in the gravity they were currently experiencing in this compartment.
Gravity.
On board a ship.
Where the hell was he?
And how could he use any of this to kill Tawfiq Woomer-Calix and liberate Earth from the New Order Hardits?
As his mind snapped back to military considerations, he cast a critical eye over Xin’s five escort guards who had joined the Littorane Marines already present. They dwarfed her in their ACE combat armor, and their leader had kept eyes on Arun since he arrived.
Were they prisoners here?
Time to find out. Time to recruit allies and kill Hardits.
“Dress suits you,” he told Xin. “You look… stunning.”
“You don’t,” she replied. “You look like crap.” She nodded at Grace. “How did you two get along?”
“Hello, my name is Grace,” Arun replied. “Would you like to not die?” He shrugged. “We didn’t have time to get beyond that to play happy families. And we are family, aren’t we? I’m not just imagining all this.”
Grace removed her glove and shook his hand. Her fingers were thin, almost delicate in their lack of burns and gnarling, but her grip was assured. “No, Father. This is real. And please don’t listen to Mother. She can’t help her obnoxious streak. You put up with it for centuries, so you know better than me. Beneath her snark, she’s overjoyed to see you again. Been talking about little else but you for months.”
Xin laughed. “Grace has your stubborn streak, Arun. And your impulsiveness. Not to mention your flights of fancy, and” – she flashed him a wicked grin – “your deep affection for aliens. Frankly she’s a dangerous liability to all who come near her. I’d exile her to the exterior maintenance teams if I could, but I can’t help myself but love her, despite the multitude of reasons she gives me not to. Just like…”
Her expression tightened, and she didn’t finish her words.
Arun’s heart and mind scrambled to make sense of what he’d just seen and heard. Neither could gain any traction. Xin had left with half the fleet, but it wasn’t because they’d stopped loving each other. Xin had opposed the treaty Arun had negotiated with the White Knight Emperor that continued the ritual of the Cull. Secretly, Arun had opposed it too, which was why he’d cheated — the Cull victims being given disguised DNA and fresh identities as Wolves. It was a secret that would come out one day, but not yet. The strong dictated to the weak in the Trans-Species Union, and the Human Autonomous Region was not yet robust enough to force the Emperor to turn a blind eye to Arun’s subterfuge.
He had never doubted he had made the right decision, but it had cost him his wife, his daughter, and his happiness. On any other matter, he’d have confided his secret with Xin, but not this. She had opposed his stance on the Cull for years before the treaty, and spies were everywhere. If she’d suddenly softened her opposition to his position, it would have caused suspicion that would soon have reached the Emperor’s ears.
Beside him, Springer was back to glaring at Xin.
And Xin was glaring right back.
Some things never changed.
Awkward didn’t even begin to describe this. Despite everything, his heart jumped in excitement to see Xin alive. She’d aged. In fact, she looked older than him now – maybe by twenty years – but she was still the most beautiful sight in the universe. Ever since he’d met her in novice school, his heart had been entangled with hers in a way that defied all the laws of nature, logic and decency.
We had our years, he told himself. And they were good ones. I don’t love you anymore, Xin. When the battle for Earth is over, all I want is to disappear into obscurity with Springer.
In perfect unison, both women turned to regard him. It was like being swept by twin security beams — a harsh scrutiny that easily penetrated his shell of desperate lies.
He couldn’t stop loving Xin any more than a star could will itself to switch off its nuclear fire. It had never occurred to him that Xin felt the same about him, but now he saw her afresh after so many years, he finally understood that this had always worked both ways.
Springer’s Wolfish exterior had clamped down on her facial expressions, but he could see it plain as day in her eyes that she’d always known too. Ever since that day they’d met in novice school, Springer had seen the chains binding him with Xin…
“Yeah, this is super awkward,” said Grace.
It was foolish, but despite the Legion uniform that Grace wore so comfortably she looked as if she’d been born wearing it, Arun couldn’t help but think of her as anything but a child. By her age he’d led a rebellion, killed thousands, and as for the pleasures he’d enjoyed with Springer and with her mother by that age… He grimaced. This wasn’t going to be easy.
“Again with the awkward family reunion,” Grace said, “but I think your shaggy friends need some attention.”
Arun followed her gaze to the slumped Jotuns who looked a sick bunch. Aelingir was holding her head, groaning.
“We are ghosts,” Aelingir wailed. “We left our indivisible souls behind. We’re dead and yet we persist. My soul was lost in the crash of the Hotchelpis, and yet this remnant you see before you can think and hold discourse with you. There is a word you humans use that I finally understand. We are the undead.”
Xin rolled her eyes at the Jotun general. “And to think your species used to terrify me when I was a kid. Turns out you delicate Jotun flowers aren’t tough enough to make your way in the big bad galaxy. No wonder your race surrendered yourselves as slaves to the White Knights for so long.”
The Jotun crewmembers rose menacingly to their full seven-foot height and gave Xin an ominous low growl in defiance of her escorts who were now aiming their weapons at them.
Despite the slikkk of Jotun claws unsheathing, Xin completely ignored them back.
Aelingir snapped an order at her subordinates and they reluctantly settled down. For now.
“You’re so full of drent,” Springer accused Xin. “Your words are cheap and untrue, and we all know it. We already know you’re an utter ass-hat, so what exactly are you trying to prove by insulting my comrades?”
“And you’re worst of all,” Xin told Arun, ignoring Springer and with sudden anger in her eyes. “You put your faith in Jotuns, and this regressed, half-human Wolf creature. Pathetic. Time for you to man up, husband dear, and learn there are far more deadly powers in the galaxy than these six-legged teddy bears, and those giant newts that purple-mopped spacer girl used to swim around with.”
“Don’t let her get to you,” Arun warned Springer.
“Me?” Springer snarled at him. “We’ve been here less than five minutes and already you’re orbiting her little finger.”
Finally, Xin deigned to acknowledge Springer. “Don’t you dare speak to my husband like that!” Guard Sergeant, if this degenerate Wolf utters one more word, shoot her dead.”
As Aelingir’s groans grew louder, and some of the other Jotuns joined in, Arun wheeled his chair in front of Springer and lifted his arms to sit squarely in the line of fire.
Then he thought about Xin’s words and dropped them. “Wait,” he said to Xin, “are we still married?”
Xin looked puzzled. “I assume so. Have you married again?”
“No.”
“Divorced?”
“You took my child and my heart. And while you were abandoning me, you took half the Legion fleet with you. It sure felt like a divorce.”
“But did you get a legal separation?”
“I never saw the point.”
“That’s what I assumed. Then you and I are still married, and I am not debating our personal affairs with this regressed security Wolf.”
“Leave off Lissa. She’s more of a hero than you’ll ever be.”
“Oh, so you’re sleeping with her, I take it?”
“Yes.”
Xin jerked as if slapped. “Disgusting. I see you’re still the alien-faggot, Arun. I don’t know why I’m surprised.”
“Mother!” Grace snapped. “I know we’re not here to reconcile, but neither are you helping our cause by rekindling old fights.”
Arun winced to see the supreme effort it took Xin, but she eventually managed to compose herself. “Quite so, my dear,” she said. “You always bring out the worst in m
e, McEwan.”
“I know,” he said. “So why don’t you clear off? Let me sort Aelingir out while you cool down and get your daughter to teach you how to behave in public.”
“Dad’s right,” said Grace. “It’s not as if they’re going anywhere.”
“Very well,” said Xin. “I grant you five minutes to play your charade. Everyone out!” She gave an indulgent grin at Aelingir. “When you’ve finished powdering your snout, I’ll be waiting just outside.”
She left, drawing all of her escort in her wake. Last to leave was her combat-suited guard sergeant who lingered at the door. The blackness of the Marine’s helmet visor pointed at Arun as if an accusation.
“Didn’t you hear what your mistress said?” snapped Arun.
The Marine popped her neck seal and withdrew her helmet, shaking free her long blonde ponytail.
Recognition registered instantly in Arun’s head. He’d grown up with this Marine, but those eyes… they looked so dead. What sights had she seen since the Legion split?
“Don’t play games with her, Arun,” said Majanita. “Xin is trying to avoid a war with you.” She brandished her SA-71. It was the old model with the grenade launcher beneath the railgun that they’d trained on back when she, Arun and Springer were cadet dorm buddies. Majanita’s was loaded with three of the deadly flattened cones, the launcher’s firing mechanism humming audibly as it went live. “Some of us are not so squeamish.”
Threat duly issued, Majanita followed her president outside, leaving the crew of the Hotchelpis in relative privacy.
— Chapter 02 —
Springer
Aboard unknown ship
I always knew it would end badly, dear.
Shut up, Saraswati. Nothing’s ended.
Shut up! How dare you? I bet Arun never talks to his AI that way.