by Blaze Ward
He set out at a brisk pace for what she assumed was the bridge and she followed.
They had only gotten halfway home.
Now they had to go confront Septagon Uwalu.
41
Kathra did not begrudge the anger that threatened to spill out from her soul. It should have been her battle to fight, not Daniel’s. Not Ndidi’s. But they had been left behind as WinterStar blinked back out of the universe, fleeing desperately to a place where the Concursion would occur.
At least the Mbaysey would be safe now, even if the day had cost her three chefs. That thought gave her pause. The comitatus were committed to serving her and fighting. Dying, if necessary.
Kathra only accepted those warriors who met her standards, regardless of the number that applied, which was why she only had twenty-two other women, rather than the twenty-five total Spectres that could fly in combat.
But this battle was to be waged by cooks, and not warriors, galling as she found that.
Kathra put on a happier face as she approached the mess hall, her warriors accumulating around her as she did. There had been enough leftovers to get everyone through dinner while she sorted out new duty rosters and hopefully only temporarily promoted people to take over the two kitchens.
Until Daniel and Ndidi returned. There was no other acceptable outcome. With the other woman, hopefully Daniel would not be overcome by emotions or Septagons and could meet them.
“He’s more stubborn than you probably give him credit for,” Erin said out of the blue as they entered the dining room.
“In that case, he would be second or third, behind me and possibly Ndidi, and just ahead of you,” Kathra turned to her Second-In-Command with a teasing smile.
Erin’s face broke into a smile that nearly erased the bar-code tattoo on her cheek.
“Maybe,” she laughed as the other women nearby chuckled as well. “Who would have imagined it from a male?”
“I might have gone a little deeper into his background than you realized, when it came time to offer him a job,” Kathra said. “He was not too good to be true, but the man was most certainly a diamond in the rough, just waiting for someone to come along.”
“No, he only became too good for us later,” Erin sobered. “Will he return?”
“I believe so,” Kathra said as she sat. “He has found a place here, and people who will protect him.”
Someone else was busy in the kitchen, pulling bins from the refrigerator and letting the ancient autochef warm them up for now. Something that simple was within the robot’s capabilities. Kathra would have helped, but Daniel had reminded her of the old adage about too many cooks, and there were at least a half dozen women at work already.
“Plus, Ndidi will protect him,” Kathra continued.
“You might have to expand your definition of comitatus, Kathra,” Kam said from across the table. “Those two belong.”
Assents from the right and the left. That said more than Kathra could have. These proud, warrior women happily accepting a half-blind cook as their equal, to say nothing of a Rabic male.
“First, they have to make it home,” she reminded them.
“And if they don’t?” Erin asked in a serious tone.
“Then I will add that to the manifest,” Kathra said. “We will be hunting the Sept after this. Those people owe me satisfaction, and I will claim it.”
Around her, the women growled hungrily.
42
It was not his home. Nowhere on this ship was his, least of all this bridge chamber.
Daniel amended that as he glanced over at Ndidi and decided that he could tack on the word today. Tomorrow, perhaps.
This was just the place from which Urid-Varg had originally set out to conquer the galaxy, at least twice over, failing both times. In the first, the cost had been an entire species, while the second had only cost the galaxy several dozen planetary populations.
Daniel looked up and wondered what crimes had been committed in this room. Many of them haunted his nightmares, unwilling as he was to classify them as mere memories.
“Now what?” Ndidi asked as Daniel moved to that massive, green throne and stood before it.
He commanded the portals to open, so she could at least see something. Other than the organic lightstrips along the ceiling and Urid-Varg’s chair, the room was empty. Blank, green walls that matched the floor and vaulted ceiling. The Conqueror had commanded from this room, but his mind had been many other places while he did so.
Worse, he had become the turtle in many of the same ways that Daniel had become Ndidi or the Commander. One combined entity, save that the ship had no mind until he provided it one, merely the autonomous functions of a simple creature.
Daniel sat heavily and considered.
Outside the windows, the howling gales of the storms. In the distance, a blue tornado connected a deeper layer of gases with the outer edge of the atmosphere. Daniel had left the turtle in this place so it would be easy to find, not realizing that the storm itself might provide an indigo umbrella overhead, hiding them from rain and prying eyes.
“You move here,” he said simply, pointing to a spot just behind him and to one side.
The back of the throne rose only to his shoulders, although Daniel knew he could adjust it, just as he had the clothing he wore right now. Making things fit you, rather than adapting to them.
There was probably no better description of the salaud known as Urid-Varg.
Ndidi took up a space at his left rear.
“Put your hand on my shoulder,” he said. “That will let me bring you along.”
At least she would understand what he meant. She had been him for long enough today.
Daniel felt her hand descend on his shoulder and connect a circuit. Together, they leapt outward, to become a Star Turtle, floating high in the atmosphere of a quiet gas giant.
There was no thought of engines igniting or thrusters adjusting their flight. Daniel flew as he might do himself, giving no more thought to such things as fins than he did to feet.
The horizon was suddenly below them, and the ship began to ascend into the skies.
Where are they now? the part of him that was Ndidi asked.
Daniel felt himself shrug. A Septagon could hide anywhere, as deep as they had gone to hide the turtle.
The head of the leviathan looked right and left, but the violet clouds yet sheltered them.
A light appeared from the darkness as they rose into wine-dark seas overhead. Daniel knew it for a scanner beam directed this way. An ancient spotlight seeking for submarines sneaking about in the dark waters.
Septagon Uwalu had found them.
Daniel found a growl rising from his own depths, similar to the turtle, but he could not tell which of the three of them originated it. It didn’t really matter, as they were all one being right now. Images of Angel plagued him momentarily, ascending into the night on the arm of a professional Forceball player, aboard the skytaxi carrying her out of his life.
And carrying him into this one.
“Alien vessel, surrender or be destroyed,” a voice came to them across radio waves. “This is the Sept Imperial Septagon Uwalu.”
Should we reply? Ndidi asked the gestalt.
Non. Let them fear something like Urid-Varg, and not two teenage chefs out joy riding in a stolen car, he replied.
Her snicker gave him strength. Most of what he showed to the world was bravado today, but she already knew that. Saw it from the inside.
Daniel felt starlight on his skin as they climbed to the final level of clouds. Solar wind played across the scutes of his back, tickling them with electrical charge.
“This is your final warning, alien vessel,” the naupati of Uwalu challenged them as the massive Septagon began to close. “Heave to or face your destruction.”
Daniel had never been a warrior. Fights in kitchens did not count, because nobody used knives in those situations. Too dangerous, there was always a risk of splattering bl
ood on food and then you had to shut the whole kitchen down to get it cleaned and disinfected.
Fists were another matter, especially in back parking lots after closure.
As a small man, Daniel had been forced to act aggressively on more than one occasion, when some connard back home thought that height and perhaps muscle gave him an advantage that Daniel could not offset with rage.
Fools then. Fools now.
The Septagon hung in space, low in orbit as those things went, but still well above the plane the turtle rode. Ram Cannons opened fire, seven each on the facings that Daniel could see. Heavy Particle Cannons joined in the fusillade, eight of the fourteen on each side looking this way.
The range was extreme for the lighter weapons; and the depths of the atmosphere, however thin and attenuated at this height, still caused the beams to diffract too soon, either fading to nothingness or deflecting them in bizarre patterns as they ionized a trail from an induced magnetic field.
Daniel had no idea what he was talking about. Nor did Ndidi, so he presumed that perhaps the turtle contained this information, activated only when needed.
Such as when battle was imminent.
The Ram Cannons stung a little when they struck the hull. Like a sea turtle, the ship was covered with an armored shell, top and bottom, scutes and plates and tough hide.
The entity commanding pulled the front four fins back, close against the hull where they tucked in, mostly covered.
The rear two fins pointed straight aft and did…
Ndidi understood a gravity inducer as a machine that could create a field that mimicked the effect of walking on a planet. The tribal squadron did not have them, due to cost and mass.
The Star Turtle used something similar to fly. She did not understand it. Nor did Daniel when he looked inside himself.
His ghosts provided enough bits for now.
The gestalt of beings turned their attention to the Septagon.
Given enough time, the Ram Cannons might pound him into submission, but that value was measured in hours or perhaps days.
But everyone understood the meaning of the ship’s mighty prow coming around to point at them.
The Axial Megacannon. The single greatest weapon ever invented, at least as far as the Sept had found. The tool that allowed them to conquer other worlds, able to destroy cities from orbit, and anything less than a Septagon in space.
Daniel had no concept of what the beam could do to them. His only exposure was from bad adventure vids, where music and excitement were usually more important than scientific accuracy.
Perhaps the shell could resist it. Perhaps the beam would open him up like a sushi chef wielding his sakimaru blade. Daniel had no interest in finding out today.
The turtle rolled elegantly onto his right side, like an aircraft in a war history, as a beam larger than the turtle’s head lanced by, striking deep into Azgon’s atmosphere and igniting a mushroom cloud of exploding energy.
The Ram Cannons began to miss as well, unable to respond fast enough to something more maneuverable than a Spectre.
Somebody laughed with delight. It might have been him. Perhaps Ndidi. Many of his ghosts joined in.
Should we damage them? a voice broke into the gestalt.
Again, it was difficult separating them into beings, rather than consciousness, but the part that was Daniel thought the voice he heard belonged to the only woman in the stadium.
Let them know fear instead, he offered. We have enough deaths on our conscience for now.
He felt her nod as the turtle rolled onto another flank and pitched up.
They could not resist pointing the face of the turtle down at the Septagon as the ship began the slow twisting to perhaps aim the great beam at them a second time, after however long it took to recharge.
The turtle’s eyes could fire beams back. Not as dangerous as the Megacannon, maybe, although the only test would be firing them to see. Destroying that vessel as an experiment in power, perhaps.
But they could make those same eyes glow with a terrible, internal fire as they looked the naupati in the face. Daniel screamed at Septagon Uwalu in pure rage as he did so, pulsing all the anger, pain, and despair of a thousand ghosts in his soul at the ship.
The Ram Cannons fell silent. The Heavy Particle Cannons did as well. Lights may have flickered across the face of the Septagon, seventy decks tall on the ring and thirty-two hundred meters on a ship-facing. Even the towers that rose from the top, like keeps atop a mountain, fell dark for a moment.
Daniel turned his snout and flared away from the mighty castle as he picked up speed.
Commander Omezi was out there waiting for him to return, and bring back her other chef.
He glanced back once to see the patrol ships swarming around the Septagon as the great ship’s lights came back on and the engines began to thrust.
You will never catch me, they pulsed at the pursuers with as much dread as they could put into the words.
Daniel found the spot, the circle of night that was his goal, and the turtle leapt into the darkness.
Conqueror
Read More!
Be sure to read all five books in the Star Tribes series.
WinterStar
SeekerStar
SeptStar
SwiftStar
MorningStar
Available from your favorite retailers!
About the Author
Blaze Ward writes science fiction in the Alexandria Station universe (Jessica Keller, The Science Officer, The Story Road, etc.) as well as several other science fiction universes, such as Star Dragon, the Dominion, and more. He also writes odd bits of high fantasy with swords and orcs. In addition, he is the Editor and Publisher of Boundary Shock Quarterly Magazine. You can find out more at his website www.blazeward.com, as well as Facebook, Goodreads, and other places.
Blaze's works are available as ebooks, paper, and audio, and can be found at a variety of online vendors. His newsletter comes out regularly, and you can also follow his blog on his website. He really enjoys interacting with fans, and looks forward to any and all questions—even ones about his books!
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Also by Blaze Ward
Star Tribes
WinterStar
SeekerStar
SeptStar
SwiftStar
MorningStar
* * *
The Handsome Rob Gigs
Can’t Shoot Straight Gang
Can’t Shoot Straight Gang Returns
Hunting Handsome Rob
* * *
The Jessica Keller Chronicles
Auberon
Queen of the Pirates
Last of the Immortals
Goddess of War
Flight of the Blackbird
The Red Admiral
St. Legier
Winterhome
Petron
* * *
CS-405
Queen Anne’s Revenge
Packmule
Persephone
* * *
Additional Alexandria Station Stories
The Story Road
Siren
Two Bottles of Wine With A War God
* * *
The Science Officer Series
The Science Officer
The Mind Field
The Gilded Cage
The Pleasure Dome
The Doomsday Vault
The Last Flagship
The Hammerfield Gambit
The Hammerfield Payoff
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WinterStar
Star Tribes, Book One
Blaze Ward
Copyright © 2019 Blaze Ward
All rights reserved
Published by Knotted Road Press
www.KnottedRoadPress.com
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ISBN: 978-1-64470-070-9
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Cover art:
ID 69092951 © innovari | DepositPhotos.com
Cover and interior design copyright © 2019 Knotted Road Press
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