by Isaac Stone
“I know the Jacobites have hit the Synners in the past few days,” Sura mentioned. “I’m not sure who the bigger threat is. The Synners want to seize the territory and turn us into fanatics. The Jackies want to turn us all into field hands. My ancestors didn’t leave the motherland just to be treated like dogs again.”
It wasn’t hard to trace out the Synarchist advance from the East on the map. The capitol was a sprawling city carved out of a forest just to be the center of government on Jyotish. The planet had many settlements in its early days, but the descendants of the first settlers decided they needed a big city to show how their world prospered over the generations. Therefore, money was taxed and raised to build the capitol so it could be an impressive structure to show off to all the other star systems and planets throughout known space. Hundreds of planets were settled by humanity after they left the bounds of the original solar system. It only made sense the humble people who left their homeland to settle a new world would want something to show the rest of human civilization.
On Old Earth, cities were built with protection in mind. The oldest settlements were surrounded by walls or placed inside stockades to keep out any other group that might fancy what they owned. The only civilizations that didn’t build walled cities were so hidden away they didn’t need them. Or they were constantly on the move. But Jyotish was settled by the same group of people and didn’t need to worry about too many feuds between groups. Differences did evolve over the years, but not enough for major warfare to break out. The army was used to keep the peace when necessary and defend the planet against attacks from space.
The Synarchists were able to glide into the city with small marching units that took control of whatever corridor they needed. Other than the occasional shoot-out with marines and citizens, they encountered little resistance. Aayda Brigade was sent in with the expectation that the Synarchists would plow into the city with all matter of tanks and assault vehicles. It never happened.
The Jacobites appeared a few weeks after the invasion from the Synarchists. Their knights worked alone and conducted raids against the Synarchists for the most part. They were especially deadly at night. A group of Synarchist troops would set up camp, only to be awakened in the night by the sound of gunfire from a Jacobite knight. The Jacobites made their life hell and delayed their control of the capitol more than the local forces.
To take out a Jacobite sniper was almost impossible. They would shoot anyone sent out to confront them directly. The knight carried a very light and accurate rifle that allowed him to set up at a high point and rain hell down on his targets. They would fade away if any force were sent after them in earnest. Few people had seen a Jacobite knight of up close because they tended to kill anyone who got near them. They’d been observed at distance, but never close enough to tell individual features. This is what made it so hard to speculate how many were in operation at a given time.
The latest intelligence she had spoken about a shoot-out between the Jacobite knights and the Synarchists in another part of the city. She was no longer surprised by this information. Contact in the deep reaches of space was infrequent between the two groups, but they had to know of each other’s presence. To the best of anyone’s knowledge, Jyotish was the first planet to be contested by the different factions. They’d originated in different parts of the known galaxy, so there were few reasons for them to interact.
The Jacobites claimed lineage from a group of aristocrats exiled from Earth millennia ago. They trained their people in the arts of conquest and warfare. Although they stressed a military discipline while on campaign, most of the people who’d visited the star systems under their authority spoke of castles and country estates where the few noble-born lived in splendor. The remainder of the population served to keep the birds off the statues. The Jacobites used robotics and machines where possible, but like to have a certain amount of serfs around to remind them how they reached their pinnacle of achievement. Conquered populations were pushed off to other worlds after they finished rearranging the subject planet to their liking.
The Synarchists had more documentation on their history. They were formed from a small group of planets that united hundreds of years ago. None of the planets in the new confederation had enough resources to support the populations on them. The inhabitants of their home worlds came up with a unique solution: constant raid of the planets that had what they needed. The new confederation developed a reputation as pirates, which brought down the wrath of the star systems near them. A cycle of wars evolved and when they concluded, the pirate worlds found themselves masters of all they craved.
Every group on top of the heap will find a way to justify its place in the great scheme of things, and the pirates found theirs by creating a completely new political ideology called “Synarchism”. It propounded the right of the weak to form an alliance against the strong. Only the pure would survive the battles and they would go on to dominate human civilization. Once they had their ideology in place, the Synarchists began a long conquest of every star system near them. Some had resisted, some fought them off, but the Synarchists never gave up. To give up would be to admit defeat and such a word didn’t exist in their tongue. There would always be more worlds to conquer. Jyotish happened to be the latest one in their path.
Chapter 3
Commander Sura and her second, Tripada, made their way down to the atrium where the refugees were camped. She looked at the vast collection of men, women and children. There appeared to be a few more arrivals in the last few days. The civilians who didn’t immediately submit to the Synarchists were shot on sight, so the best bet for survival was with the marines. The Jacobites didn’t even bother to give a warning; they usually shot anyone the moment they wandered into their gunsight.
“I have no idea how we are going to protect all these people,” Sura said to herself. “But we’ll have to find a way to do it.” She stepped off the stairs to the floor of the atrium and watched the proceedings before her.
The refugees, and the marines with them, were gathered around a trident someone had mounted into the middle of the floor. She watched as an old man in a plain cotton wrap pass a bowl in front of the symbol of Shiva. Several of the people chanted along with him, most were silent. On the edges of the assembly, four marines stood watch over the approaches to the building. More were outside and looked for any movement.
We need more than prayers right now, Sura thought.But it gives them some hope. I wish there was a direct line to heaven because we need it.
“Let He who takes mercy on the oppressed,” the man said as he bowed to the trident, “implore the Master of the Universe to protect us.”
Placed around the trident were trays of food. When the old man finished with his offering, the refugees allowed the marines to go first and eat what remained of the rations. Most of Sura’s people were frugal. The constant hit and run operations they’d launched against both factions had worn them down to bone and muscle.
Sura waited until everyone else finished before she ate anything. If there was one thing she’d learned about leading an armed group in the past month, it was the importance of example. During peacetime, you could have the officers sit at different mess hall tables and act as if they were made out of better fabric than the enlistees were. During actual combat, you needed the support of everyone. The last thing an officer wanted was for a recruit to hesitate when ordered to advance because he thought of you as a snob.
When the last mother with a child finished taking a biscuit from the platter in front of the trident, Sura walked up and looked at the remainder. These people were starving, but they left her more than any individual had eaten. She took half the food from the platter, ate it, and then turned to see a child of twelve who watch her with sunken eyes. She gave it to the kid, whom wolfed it down.
Not far away from the abandoned Education Ministry building, another rite was about to commence.
Basepholon looked into the mirror his sergeant had set-up in the p
ark next to the assembly building in the capitol. He checked to make sure his vestments were properly in place. There was no sense in preaching a sermon unless you looked good. This was the whole reason you took the podium. He could never understand how anyone listened to half-naked holy men. This planet abounded with them. What kind of person claimed to have direct access to heaven when all he had was a loincloth? If you were on the side of the Infinite, couldn’t heaven at least give you some money to buy new clothes? These people were nuts.
They’d picked up twelve new recruits today and it was time to let them know what the program was all about right now. He made sure the gold feathering on the robe was just right and the mystical symbols were clean. It was a nightmare to carry these things in their case along with him on campaigns, but they could serve as much purpose as any long-range artillery shell. You just had to know what kind of weapon to use for the right target. Today, his targets were already softened up by the occupation of their blessed city by the People’s Revolutionary Synarchy Forces.
Time to make the impression. He took a deep breath, walked out from behind the divide and mounted the steps to the podium the troops had but in place for him that afternoon. Night was falling and the torches had the right effect in the small square where people use to take their lunch break. He touched one boot to the step and found it secure. Good. He was forced to execute several incompetents last campaign when they botched the assembly. He almost fell throughthat podium.
Basepholon had done this plenty of times in his thirty years as a Proconsul for the Synarchy. He could close his eyes and recite the sermon he was about to give these greenhorns, but then he’d do it on automatic and it would lose its flair. Can’t do that. No matter how useless this bunch might be, in the end it was important for the natives to understand they had a place in the New Order so long as they had the right attitude.
He glared down at them before opening his mouth. This bunch, all twelve of them, were trembling. From his angle, he couldn’t tell if it was due to fear, starvation or nervousness over the men with guns around them. No matter, time to make the words. Best to use the compassion voice this time. It worked best on malnourished fools.
Before he said the first proclamation, a thought hit him. Where was that damned preacher and his group? He was supposed to be here by now.
The preacher had no name. For as long as he could remember, he was simply “The Preacher”. He had some memories of another life on a distant planet where he’d been a petty thief, but he did all he could to suppress those memories. They did him no good and he had a mission to fulfill. So long as there was one human habitation that was not part of the Synarchy, he could not rest. His mortal body forced him to take rest when he could no longer move, but he took only the little he needed to function. Too little sleep and the voices began to whisper in his ears and he couldn’t have that. The last time they’d been so loud he had to shout them down. He quit yelling at the voices when he noticed the men starring at him.
He marched toward the center of the city with his militants. These were the true men, those who’d surrounded everything they had to the Synarchy Forces. Today it was a useless planet the generals decided was important, tomorrow it might be something else. He didn’t care. One was the same as the next to him if the reactionaries were in charge. Only the reactionaries resisted the march of the Will of the Synarchy. He’d killed plenty of them with his good hand. He’d have to kill more before he went to his grave.
So long as his Widowmakers were around him, he didn’t care. They would be punished this evening for letting that woman get too close, but it was important they understood their position. With all the benefits that came with it, they were still his personal bodyguards, sworn to die in order to protect him. No other Synarchist troop had this arrangement. He was feared and respected by the Synarch himself. When the rallies were held on campaign, and the Synarch deemed it important to attend in person, he was always certain to have the preacher at his side.
But it was time to make a battle cry and let Proconsul Basepholon know he was on the way. Surely, the colonel could hear the movement of his elite troops by now as they stomped down the main street of the abandoned capitol of this useless planet. Plus, the troops needed some inspiration. He agreed with Basepholon in the need for motivational speeches, if not much else. No matter, they both served the Synarchy, even if the colonel tended to take his pedigree too seriously. So what if he was a direct descendant of the first Synarch? There was only one Synarch at a time and he ruled the armies of the faithful.
The preacher put the bullhorn to his lips and began to chant. “Let him who would go against the Will of the Synarchy be ripped to shreds!” His voice boomed across the vacant city. Good, he could hear the troops around him repeat the verses along with him.
“I am the Lord of Power!” he yelled again. “Let the new dawn tremble before my might! Tear down the idols of the Old Order and destroy all that remains!” He paused to let the men chant along with him.
On top of one of the four-story buildings that loomed over the marching column stood a man with a rifle. He wore dark body armor covered by a plain grey surcoat that had the white rose embossed on it. He watched the column move in order as it wound its way to the center of the city where another ceremony was in place. He didn’t have much use for all this public display of pomp. It was ridiculous to waste any kind of ceremony on those who would never understand its meaning.
Early in the day, he’d found the group in the park near the assembly building. He almost used them for target practice, but a radio message from his orbital spotter let the Jacobite knight know that another group was in movement toward the center. This would be a better objective. They were in motion and provided more targets. He had plenty of ammunition and decided to wait for them.
Right now, the column was below Sir Nagashi. He said a quiet prayer to his sovereign and lifted the rifle. The one next to that loud-mouthed fat preacher would be the first. There would be others he needed to kill, but best to make a statement with his initial bullet. He lined up the head of the man he wanted to shoot in his sight and pulled the trigger.
The preacher almost dropped his bullhorn when the head exploded on the Widowmaker to his right.
Oh, shit, he thought,a sniper. Dammit, has to be a Jacobite!
“Take cover!” the preacher screamed out as he checked the buildings for muzzle flashes. “Get inside the nearest building!” This was crazy, his scouts swore there were no Jacobites anywhere near this location. He’d have a few words with them later.
Not enough men heard his order. Half of the troopers ran to the protection of the buildings, smashing doors and windows to get inside it. The other half turned and began to fire wildly at the tops of the buildings and any open window. This was just what the sniper wanted because two more men went down from his rifle.
The preacher tried to get his corpulent body away from the scene of mass confusion, but his Widowmakers had formed a protective barricade around him. It was a good maneuver, but it made it difficult to get him off the street. They almost had the preacher into a building when three of them went down with bullet hits to their heads. The preacher was splattered with their brains, but he still had a few men who could get him in the nearest door.
He almost made it to the door. While his bodyguards rushed him to the entrance, the door flew open in front of them.
To reveal the Jacobite knight with his rifle.
His remaining bodyguards went for their guns, but they weren’t fast enough. The preacher watched them fall to the ground.
“Damn you!” the preacher screamed. “The voice of the Synarchy will never be silenced!” The preacher reached in his robes to bring up a very big pistol and fired directly into the Jacobite.
Who dodged the bullet with the nimbleness of a professional dancer.
Before the preacher could squeeze the trigger a second time, the knight had sent a throwing knife through the preacher’s throat. The knight watched him
fall to the ground gurgling blood.
The Jacobite knight looked up and watched the last of the Synarchy troops vanish behind what cover they could find. It was just what he wanted. He chambered another round and ran back into the building.
“At least I don’t have to listen to that asshole again,” Sir Nagashi grumbled as vanished up the stairs.
Minutes later, he was back on his roost. The troopers would emerge soon and give him a target rich environment.
Chapter 4
Shamsana and Krodha knew something had changed when they saw the mob of twenty Synarchist troopers charge them. They’d been outside the building Commander Sura used as her forward operating base in search of more supplies. An hour after the evening meal, she’d told them both to go back out and see what they could find. It was dark outside and there wouldn’t be too many Synarchists about. They’d slipped out earlier and looked around, but most of the local buildings were picked clean.
They were in a location two blocks to the west when they heard the sound of people running. Both were armed with machine guns this time and brought their weapons up immediately. They were in the middle of the street when it happened. An abandoned truck was parked in the middle of the street, but its load was already plundered.
The mob of Synarchist troopers was in full flight from something. They’d heard shots in the distance, but failed to make the connection. The troopers stooped when they saw the two Jyotish marines and began to bring their rifles into firing position.
From two different angles, Shamsana and Krodha opened up with their machine guns and destroyed the Synarchists in front of them. In seconds, the air was filled with the smell of burnt percussion and blood. They stood there in disbelief for a few seconds, and then four more Synarchist ran around the corner. The troopers stopped when they saw the bodies that blocked their path.