Broken Worlds- The Complete Series

by Jasper T. Scott

  It had been a long time coming, but the former leader of the Revenants had paid in blood for all the Keth that he had killed.

  Now that the Revenants had gone to deal with the civil war, the Keth had finally come out of hiding and returned to Ouroboros to rebuild. It would take a long time to return to their former glory, but thanks to Tanik they had all the time they could possibly need.

  After the last Revenant ship had flown through the Eye, Tanik had used his abilities to shut the wormhole leaving them no way to return and threaten the Keth. The Augur had been the only Revenant powerful enough to open and shut wormholes, and his head was stuffed and hanging on Tanik’s wall.

  Tanik smirked and looked away from the trophy. He went to the kitchen sink and filled a cup with water from the faucet. Gazing absently out the window as he drank, he spied pairs of Keth children sparring with glowing swords in a nearby field.

  There were a few dozen children dueling out there. Tanik heard people cheering as one of the fights concluded. The parents of the victor ran in and congratulated their... son, Tanik decided, while the parents of the loser silently carried their daughter’s body off the field.

  Almost any other species would say that the Keth’s system of training was barbaric, but the Keth weren’t like other species, whose only goal seemed to be flooding their worlds with their progeny. For the Keth, life was not a right, it had to be won. Children earned their place and proved their worth.

  It made sense on a certain level. Why waste a limited pool of power by sharing it with the weak and unworthy? That was also why the Revenants had to die—besides the fact that they’d been the ones to start the war all those years ago.

  Another cheer sounded as a second fight concluded. Tanik felt arms slide around his waist and glanced over his shoulder to see Feyra standing there behind him.

  “Good morning, my love,” she said.

  He turned to her and kissed her. “Good morning,” he mumbled against her lips. She pulled away, distracted by the children dueling in the field.

  “They started the Letting ceremony already?” Feyra asked. Her eyes skipped to his and tightened with accusation. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “I’m sorry, darling,” Tanik replied. “I just noticed myself. We slept later than I’d thought.”

  “We’d better go. We don’t want to miss any more of the ceremony than we have to.”

  Feyra turned and strode for the door to their cabin. It blew open before she reached it, moved by unseen forces. Tanik ran out after her and caught up just as she emerged from the woods where their cabin lay and crossed the sunny field to reach the sparring children and their on looking parents. Feyra and Tanik reached them just as another fight came to an end. A young Keth girl cut her opponent’s sword arm off in a fiery burst of glowing embers. The injured boy stumbled away. To his credit, he didn’t scream or cry, but instead used his abilities to summon his fallen sword to his other hand, and backpedaled hurriedly to put distance between him and his opponent.

  The girl made a horizontal leap of ten feet to close the gap between them. Her sword flashed down, and the boy blocked, but he must have been weak from the loss of his other arm, because she batted his sword away easily. His eyes widened in horror, and he said, “I choose ex—”

  But the girl cut him in half before he could finish. Tanik frowned. Everyone here could fill in that blank. Exile. The coward’s way out. Just as well he hadn’t had enough time to bring that shame upon his parents.

  The boy’s parents went to collect their son’s remains while the victor’s parents congratulated their daughter and led her off the field. For the losing family’s sake, no one said anything about their son’s cowardice.

  “Tanik,” a familiar voice whispered.

  He turned to see Master Vartok standing behind him. Vartok stood a head taller than the average Keth, and about three inches taller than Tanik himself. He was also thicker across the chest than most, with a more developed musculature. Where most Keth were thin and bony, Vartok was a veritable Colossus. His physical strength complemented his affinity for zero-point energy field, making him the strongest surviving Keth. By default that also made him the leader of their people.

  Of course, if Tanik were allowed to challenge him for that position, the Keth would have had a new leader a long time ago. Unfortunately, they’d never allow a human like him to lead them. It was a miracle that they tolerated him among them at all, but he’d proven himself time and again, starting with a Letting day ceremony just like this one.

  “Master Vartok,” Tanik said. “Do you need something from me?”

  “A word,” Vartok intoned.

  Feyra tore her gaze away from the dueling children to regard Master Vartok with blazing blue-white eyes. “Can it wait until after the ceremony?” she asked.

  “I suppose,” Vartok replied.

  Tanik nodded. “I will look for you.”

  “See that you do.” Vartok stalked off, his loose black tunic pasting itself to his body as a wind gusted through the field, revealing a narrow waist and broad shoulders.

  “I wonder what that’s about,” Tanik mused.

  “I don’t like the way he looks at you,” Feyra replied.

  Another victor emerged from the sparring children and cheers erupted from the assembled parents, interrupting their conversation.

  “After everything you’ve done for us, you deserve more respect,” she went on, shaking her head.

  “I understand it,” Tanik replied. “The last time your people encountered a human as powerful as me, it was the Augur, and look how that turned out.”

  “But you killed him,” Feyra said. “That should be enough to prove whose side you’re on. When will it end?”

  Tanik shrugged. “Maybe never.” Feyra scowled, but Tanik wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to kiss the top of her hairless head. She was a remarkable woman. No other Keth had ever shown any romantic interest in him. He was far too ugly for any woman to love. And yet, Feyra had fallen in love with him anyway.

  Tanik smiled, his chest swelling with his affection for her. It was a pity they could never have children of their own. He could only imagine the pride the winning families felt today as their children slew their opponents and took their place in the Kibiksa.

  When the Letting ceremony concluded, the victorious children and their parents gathered together and started down the trail to the living water springs, where they would bathe together in the Sprite-infused waters. The losing families would have to abstain from that ritual until one of their current or future progeny emerged victorious on another Letting day.

  Tanik trailed after the winners, walking hand-in-hand with Feyra. They had no children, so they had never lost the right to bathe in the pools.

  Master Vartok emerged from the group, having stopped to wait for Tanik and Feyra to catch up.

  “You did not come find me,” Vartok accused.

  “I apologize, master,” Tanik said. “I did not realize the matter was so urgent.”

  “It is.”

  “Tell me about it,” Tanik urged.

  “I have foreseen the death of the human you left to fight your war for you.”

  “What? When?” Tanik asked, genuinely shocked by that revelation.

  “Last night,” Vartok replied. “As I slept in my bed, I saw him die, and I saw the Union re-born, stronger than ever before. That cannot be allowed to happen.”

  “How is that possible?” Tanik wondered. “I have foreseen him on a throne, ruling over the broken ruins of the Union as the last surviving Revenant.”

  “Perhaps you foresaw that because of your coming intervention.”

  “My intervention?” Tanik asked, regarding Vartok with eyebrows raised.

  The Keth leader flashed pointed white teeth at him. “Yes. You must go join the war in order to ensure that it kills the Revenants as you predict.”

  “Hasn’t he done enough?” Feyra demanded. “He killed the Augur, and
he got rid of the Revenants. They can’t come back, so what does it matter whether they die or not?”

  Vartok’s eyes darted to her. “It matters very much, young Feyra, and watch how you speak to me. I have been more than patient with this abomination of a pairing that you forced me to accept. No other Duma in the history of our people would have allowed his daughter to choose a mate outside of her own species. I have made my peace with it, but do not challenge me again, and do not interfere when I ask something in return for my tolerance.”

  “I’ll do it,” Tanik said. “But when they’re all dead, and the Union is shattered beyond repair, I would like something in return.”

  “And that is?” Vartok asked.

  “It is the tradition of our people that when a Duma’s children pass their Letting day challenges and choose a mate, they are allowed to leave and start their own Kibiksa.”

  “Yes, but Feyra cannot bear your children, so how will you do this?”

  Tanik favored his father-in-law with a thin smile. “I will choose a worthy Aroketh to bear children for me.”

  Feyra’s eyes widened with shock. This was the first she had heard of the idea, but he’d given it a lot of thought over the past few months, and it was the only way. Tanik would never stop having to prove himself to Vartok as long as they were living in his Kibiksa.

  “That is an interesting proposition...” Vartok said slowly. He glanced at his daughter and appeared to notice her horrified expression. He flashed another grin at Tanik. “Very well, I accept, but you must not delay. I sense that you do not have long if you wish to save your pet.”

  “I will leave at once,” Tanik replied.

  Chapter 5

  Darius slammed into the back of the pilot’s seat as his Vulture shot out into space at five Gs. Eleven other Vultures appeared to port and starboard. The Harbinger could launch an entire squadron at once with its twelve launch tubes.

  As soon as his fighter cleared the ship, the crushing weight of acceleration lifted, and Darius sucked in a deep breath. Air rasped noisily through his oxygen mask and air hose. He heard an echo of that sound from Dyara in the seat behind his. With her experience, she should have been piloting her own fighter, but this was a particularly dangerous mission, so he’d ordered her to fly as his co-pilot. It was the only way he could guarantee her safety.

  Keying his comms, Darius said, “Alpha wing, this is Blue Leader. I’ve marked the enemy flagship on your navs. Set a course and stay in formation.”

  Acknowledging clicks echoed back over the comms. No one dared to offer a verbal reply, possibly because they’d already heard about the recent change of command and this was their passive aggressive form of protest. That, or because they privately agreed with Ventaris’s assessment that this was a suicide mission. Regardless, Darius wasn’t going to tolerate any passive aggression from his pilots. “Squadron leaders, acknowledge receipt of orders, over,” Darius prompted.

  “Green Leader here. Five by five, acknowledged.”

  “White Leader acknowledging, loud and clear... sir.”

  Darius was about to reprimand the ape-like Selarian for her disrespectful tone, but the leader of Black Squadron chimed in before he could.

  “Acknowledged, Blue Leader. Black Squadron has your back.”

  “Good. Shields up everyone. I’ll update your orders as we draw near. Blue Leader out,” Darius said.

  “I’m assuming that means you have a plan,” Dyara said.

  “More or less,” Darius replied as he drew on the ZPF to envelop their fighter with a shield. The inside of the cockpit began radiating a dim light. A moment later the shield brightened as Dyara added her strength to his. He targeted the enemy flagship and aimed the nose of his fighter to one side of Hagrol to fly around the planet. Reaching for the throttle, he pushed it up to two Gs.

  “Do tell,” Dyara said, her voice hitching briefly with the sudden pressure of acceleration.

  “We’re going to fly in with our shields up, dodging enemy fire as best we can; then we’ll fly inside the flagship’s hangar and clamp our fighters to their landing pads. We’ll use our swords to cut a way in, and fight through the ship to reach the bridge and Kovar.”

  “In other words, charge in blindly and hope it works,” Dyara said dryly. “I meant where’s the hidden genius to this mission that’s going to keep us from all getting killed.”

  Darius ground his teeth. “Let me worry about the mission, you just focus on being a good co-pilot, understood?”

  “Yes, sir.” Dyara’s voice dripped with sarcasm, making Darius wonder how much insubordination he should tolerate from her before meting out punishment. Their personal relationship had ended in a slow fade of mutual withdrawal over the past four months, and now there was more than enough tension between them to make them hate each other. Darius tried not to let his personal feelings color his attitude toward her, but she wasn’t making it easy.

  “Cygnian Blades are moving to intercept,” Dyara announced. “Bearing three ten, mark twelve. They must think we’re trying to reach the planet. ETA to firing range, five minutes, nine seconds.”

  “We’ll have to outrun them,” Darius said.

  “They’re Cygnians, Darius! They can take twice as many Gs as other humanoids. You’ll turn us into pancakes before you outrun them.”

  Darius grimaced. She was right. They had to stop and fight. Their shields gave them an edge, but not as much as Darius would have liked since technically they couldn’t fire through their shields. If they dropped their shields to open fire, they’d be giving the enemy a window of opportunity. There was, however, a messy compromise that involved some tricky synchronized flying.

  Darius keyed the comms. “All squadrons, adjust course to bearing three ten and prepare to engage pursuing Cygnians. Break into wing pairs and adopt scissor formations, over.”

  Acknowledging clicks came back over the comms.

  “We’re outnumbered,” Dyara pointed out. “There’s only so many of them we can get in the first pass.”

  “Then we’ll make a second pass!” Darius snapped. He keyed the comms once more. “Blue Leader to Harbinger.”

  “Harbinger here,” Lieutenant Grifton replied.

  “Launch all fighters and maneuver the fleet between us and the Cygnians. They cannot be allowed to interfere with our mission.”

  “Yes, sir. Right away, sir,” Grifton replied dryly.

  That was it. Darius had had enough. An example had to be set. He reached out to the Harbinger and took control of Lieutenant Grifton. The bridge snapped into focus around him. Suddenly he was sitting at the comms station. Wasting no time, he made a fist and punched himself in the face as hard as he could. His nose exploded with a sickening crunch, and a crimson spray of blood. A stabbing, throbbing pain pulsed between his eyes, and bright ribbons of blood snaked from his broken nose. Of course, it wasn’t his nose that was broken. It was Lieutenant Grifton’s.

  “Major Becker!” he called out, and spun his chair to face the marine seated to the left of the bridge doors.

  “Sir?”

  Becker’s eyes widened in alarm at the sight of him. “Kak! What the fek happened to you?”

  “Lieutenant Grifton has been relieved of duty and duly reprimanded for insubordination,” Darius said in a nasal voice. “He is no longer fit for duty. I assume you know how to man a comms station?”

  “Uhh...” Major Becker trailed off. “Mr. Drake, is that you?”

  “Admiral Drake,” Darius confirmed. “Is that a yes or a no? Can you man the comms station?”

  “Y-yes, sir.”

  “Good—helm, kill thrust while the Major trades places with Lieutenant Grifton.”

  “Aye...”

  All eyes were on Grifton. A few of the crew reached for the helmets stowed under their chairs to avoid accidentally inhaling free-floating globules of his blood.

  As soon as he felt the ship’s forward acceleration stop, Darius released Grifton’s acceleration harness and stood up. He wa
lked by the Major and strapped in at the now-empty guard post. Brevet Commander Hanson stared at him in shock. Darius met that gaze and nodded once to him. “Don’t hesitate to contact me if there are any more disciplinary problems,” Darius said, and with that, he released Grifton’s mind.

  The bridge vanished, and the Vulture’s cockpit appeared with all of its glowing screens and control panels.

  “Darius!” Dyara kicked the back of his seat. “Wake the fek up!”

  “I’m back,” he said.

  “From where?”

  “Never mind that. How long before we reach weapons range with those Blades?”

  “Two fekking minutes, that’s how long!” Dyara said.

  A thought occurred to him, and Darius shut his eyes once more. He reached out for the Cygnian pilots racing toward them and tried to take control of them. He was hoping to make them turn on each other, or to turn around, but there was some kind of mental barrier that he couldn’t get past. Kovar must have already cemented his influence over them.

  Scowling, Darius opened his eyes and grabbed the flight stick. Targeting his wingman, he pulled up hard and stepped on the left rudder pedal to activate the Vulture’s maneuvering jets. The friendly fighter swept into view with bright blue thruster trails. Darius increased the throttle to catch up. As he did so, he keyed the comms and said, “Blue Two, One here. I’ll be the slicer, over.”

  “Nice of you to show up. Roger that, lead. Slice away,” Blue Two replied.

  When he was trailing just a few meters behind Blue Two, Darius rolled so that the twin laser cannons at the end of each wing were peeking out above and below his wingman’s fighter. To an outside observer, their wings would look like an open pair of scissors.

  Darius targeted the Cygnian Blade directly in front of his wingman and counted down the remaining seconds to firing range. His targeting reticle never turned green to indicate a target lock, since there was a friendly fighter in front of him, but he did see enemy lasers splashing off Blue Two’s shields with bright flashes of light.

  “Drop our shields, Dya!” Darius ordered just as he stopped shielding their fighter. The inside of their cockpit stopped glowing, and Darius pulled the trigger. Two twin streaks of gold shot out, flashing safely around Blue Two. The first shot missed, so he adjusted his aim by a fraction of a degree. After that, the second shot hit its mark, vaporizing his target. Must have hit a missile, Darius mused. Streams of gold stuttered out from Alpha wing, and whole squadrons of enemy fighters either exploded or sailed on as derelicts, having suffered critical systems failures.