by Piers Platt
“Excellent work, Colonel.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ikeda said. “We have full control of the drone fleet and the high energy weapons.”
Yo-Tsai eyed Rath appraisingly. “And Contractor 621, as well, I see. We recognized your girlfriend from the news footage of your trial,” the general explained to Rath. “Bringing her to our meeting on Jokuan was a major error on your part.”
Rath ignored him, and nodded toward the fleet on the viewscreen. “Why bring your fleet to Tarkis?”
“To invade it, of course,” Yo-Tsai said. Additional crew members entered the bridge, and Yo-Tsai stepped aside as they took their seats at the Guardian’s various stations. “Tarkis’ wealth will go a long way to restoring the economic health of Jokuan. And as an added bonus, you’re going to give me the billions you stole from the Guild, too.”
Rath’s eyes narrowed. “You can keep me, and my money. Let Jaymy go.”
Yo-Tsai shook his head. “No.” He plugged a data drive into a datascroll, and held out the device. Rath could see a money transfer application open on the screen. “Wire me the funds, or I’ll kill her right now, while you watch.”
“You’ll let her live if I cooperate?” Rath asked.
“You have my word,” Yo-Tsai agreed.
Rath took the datascroll without a word. Beside him, Jaymy started to cry.
“It’s just money,” Rath told her.
“It’s not that! They’re going to kill you!” she replied.
“Yes, I am,” Ikeda said. Rath could see a hungry glint in the older man’s eye. He finished transferring the funds, and handed the datascroll back to Yo-Tsai.
“There you go. That’s all of it.”
Yo-Tsai examined the screen, and whistled. “Quite a haul. This venture is already profitable.” He pulled the data drive out of the device and held it aloft, studying it. “It always amazes me how so much wealth can be stored in such a small thing.”
“You got my money, but the people of Tarkis won’t go down without a fight,” Rath said.
Yo-Tsai laughed. “Who will stand against us? The fabled Fleet Reaction Force, that’s been gathering dust for centuries? The police? I’ll put a kinetic dart into every police station on the planet if they lift a finger. You may not want to admit it,” he told Rath, “but you and Ricken have handed me the keys to the entire Federacy.”
Rath’s eyes widened in fear.
“Oh yes,” Yo-Tsai said, nodding. “Tarkis is just Phase One. We’ll seize it in a matter of days, and use Tarkis’ vast industrial resources to build up our naval forces into something more credible. While the Federacy remains handcuffed by your drones, I’ll be readying an invasion fleet capable of subjugating the entire Federacy. And perhaps the Territories, as well.” He smiled cruelly. “Ricken’s revolution has indeed given birth to a new age in the galaxy. But not the one he envisioned. This is the age of the Jokuan Empire.”
Yo-Tsai turned to survey the viewscreen, where Ricken was ushering the first senator up to the podium to tender his public resignation. “And speaking of our friend …”
The general crossed to the drone command station, and activated the computer. A hologram appeared over the desk, showing a star-map of the galaxy, with winking dots indicating each of the high energy device’s locations.
“Zoom in on Anchorpoint,” Yo-Tsai told the computer.
“What are you doing?” Lonergan asked, fear creeping into his voice.
Yo-Tsai tapped on a single point on the hologram, and the image zoomed in to reveal the ships of Anchorpoint, clustered around the asteroid at the heart of the complex. “I’m putting an end to Ricken’s little experiment in democracy,” the general said, calmly. “And an end to the Federacy, too.”
40
As Rath and Lonergan watched helplessly, General Yo-Tsai selected the high energy device on Ricken’s shuttle at Anchorpoint, and punched a key on the command console. He turned to watch the viewscreen, where Ricken was still addressing the Senate. But after several seconds, nothing happened. A flicker of a frown crossed the general’s face.
Lonergan laughed. “It was all a bluff, you fool,” he told Yo-Tsai. “You can’t detonate the bottled water in the Senate chamber, because Anders never scanned them with the device. It was all just a smokescreen. He’d never put that many innocent people in real danger.”
“No?” Yo-Tsai asked. “Then it’s a good thing I sent my own ship to Anchorpoint with an orbital drone. Let’s see how well the old battle cruiser stands up to a salvo of PKDs.”
“No!” Lonergan shouted. But Yo-Tsai had already pressed the Launch button on the console.
* * *
In the pitch-black vacuum nearly a hundred kilometers above Anchorpoint, the drone received the activation signal and came to life, running a quick diagnostics check and then fully powering up its systems. Its navigation computer reported that it had drifted slightly since it had been launched, so the drone fired thrusters briefly, realigning itself. Then it fired its full complement of kinetic darts, hundreds of heavy metal projectiles lancing out of their launch tubes in the space of less than a minute. Based on the guidance system’s instructions, the darts accelerated toward the cluster of ships in two distinct waves, homing in on the superstructure of the battle cruiser that housed the Senate chamber.
Early warning systems on the old ship activated automatically, and several batteries of anti-missile guns opened fire, but the guns were designed to detonate the warheads on incoming missiles – a different threat, from a bygone age. The kinetic darts were still inert, and the bullets bounced harmlessly off of their metal bodies, merely knocking a few of the darts off course. The remainder flew straight and true.
The first wave detonated on the cruiser’s armored hull, ripping it apart. Inside the Senate chamber, the concussion knocked Ricken to his knees. The lights failed, but a set of red emergency lights came on immediately afterwards. Screams and warning sirens filled the room. In the red-lit chaos, Ricken glanced up and caught Egline’s eye.
In a sudden moment of clarity, he sensed the reason for the attack.
“Yo-Tsai,” he said. “My god, what have we—”
And then the second wave of darts tore through the roof of the Senate chamber, and exploded.
* * *
Dasi held Shofel by the elbow, pushing him ahead of her as she hurried along the utility corridor below the Senate complex.
>>>Hurry, Six urged her.
“Ricken?” Hawken said again, jogging to catch up. “Anders Ricken? What the hell is going on around here?”
“I don’t know,” Dasi said, turning a corner.
>>>Anchorpoint’s automated defense systems just activated, Six said.
I thought Ricken had a bomb? Dasi replied. Why would the defense systems turn on?
>>>I am attempting to figure that out.
Suddenly, from far above, she heard a sound like a giant sheet of paper being torn in two. The corridor bucked under their feet.
>>>There is a supply closet seven meters down the hallway, on the left. Get inside it. Now, Dasi!
* * *
Paisen finished cutting through the last strand of the power cable, and then set the wire cutters down on the deck. She looked up at Beauceron, and wiped a sleeve across her sweating brow.
“We did it,” she said, smiling. “It’s disabled.”
Beauceron held his hand out, and helped her stand. “I’m sorry I doubted you,” he told her.
“Me too,” Atalia said. “Martin, we need to call this in.”
“Yes,” he agreed. He took his holophone out of his pocket, and dialed Jesk’s personal number, putting the phone on speaker.
“This is Jesk,” the phone barked, when the line connected.
“It’s Beauceron, sir,” the detective replied. “We found Ricken’s ship, and secured the device. It’s been disabled, sir. Green light for the hostage rescue team.”
“Phenomenal,” Jesk said. “I’ll tell the tactical—”
> The line went dead, and a second later, they felt the spaceship shiver under their feet. They heard a distant rumble, and then the sound of alarm sirens.
* * *
The news feed on the Rampart Guardian’s viewscreen went dark, and after a moment, a Technical Difficulties graphic appeared. Lonergan sobbed, cradling his broken arm to his chest as the tears poured down his face. Yo-Tsai left the launch keys in the Rampart Guardian’s command station, and turned to face Rath.
“You have all witnessed the birth of the Jokuan Empire,” he said. “Colonel Ikeda, the invasion of Tarkis awaits. I’ll remain here to establish my command post. Proceed to my ship and take command of your battalion.”
“Yes, sir,” Ikeda said, saluting.
“And dispose of the prisoners,” Yo-Tsai ordered. “They’re no longer any use to us.”
“You gave your word that Jaymy could go free,” Rath protested.
“No, I promised she could live.” The general corrected him. He eyed Jaymy appraisingly. “You’re hereby conscripted in the Jokuan army. I’m sure the infantry will have need of trained medics in the coming days. Ikeda, find a platoon for her to join.”
Ikeda nodded.
“Goodbye, 621,” Yo-Tsai said. “A renowned killer such as yourself should have the chance to die in battle, but alas, we live in an unfair world.”
“I’m not a killer anymore,” Rath said.
“You are, and always will be,” Yo-Tsai told him. “And I think you’d be more at peace with yourself if you admitted that fact. No matter. Perhaps you’ll find the peace you’re looking for in the afterlife.”
Ikeda led the way out of the bridge, his men falling into position on either side of the prisoners.
“Jaymy,” Rath called, from the back of the line. “Just do what they say. Follow orders, keep out of trouble. You can make it out of this.”
Rath could tell she was still crying, but he saw her nod. At the end of a corridor, they came to an airlock, and through multiple sets of hatches, Rath could see the interior of another ship beyond – Yo-Tsai’s flagship, docked to the Guardian. They passed through the Guardian’s airlock, and then stopped inside the entrance to the other ship.
“Take her down to Supply,” Ikeda said, indicating Jaymy.
“Rath!” she sobbed, glancing over her shoulder, and then her guards pushed her around a corner, and she was gone.
Ikeda pressed several of the buttons on the airlock’s control pad, and the outer door slid shut, sealing off from the Guardian. Through a porthole in the exterior hatch, Rath saw the Guardian’s outer lock close, and then the ships drifted apart. Ikeda pulled two sets of vacuum suits out of lockers lining the airlock’s wall.
“When General Yo-Tsai told me I could kill you, I spent a long time thinking about how to do it,” he told Rath.
“I’m surprised you were able to come to a decision at all,” Rath told him. “I remember seeing you in combat: decisions aren’t your strong suit.”
Ikeda smiled as his men helped Rath and Lonergan into the space-suits. “All you have left is words. And very few of those remaining,” the colonel pointed out. “At first I thought I would simply toss you out the airlock – a horrible death, but it’s too quick and efficient. You deserve something worse. And then I thought you might enjoy seeing your planet burn as we attack it. So I will toss you out the airlock, but in a spacesuit with no air supply or radio. My engineers tell me the existing air in the suit will be enough to last you about five minutes, before you suffocate and die.”
Lonergan groaned as they manipulated his broken arm into the suit. “You fucking animals,” he said. The old man lashed out suddenly, head-butting the nearest soldier in the face.
Rath elbowed his own guard in the stomach, but Ikeda drew his pistol smoothly, and trained it on Rath’s head. “That will be enough,” he said.
The soldiers finished with their suits, and then slipped helmets on each of them. Ikeda had them check all of the suits’ seals, and then he stepped inside the inner hatch of the airlock, and his men followed. Rath and Lonergan stood watching, as the inner door closed. Ikeda, smiling, saluted Rath with his pistol just as the door slid shut. The lights in the airlock changed color, flashing briefly, and Rath turned, looking at the outer door. Silently, it swung open, and Rath saw the deep black of space beyond.
A blast of white gas enveloped him without warning, pushing against Rath’s back with inexorable force. He flailed his arms wildly, but before he could grab the sides of the airlock, he was out into space, spinning slowly as he drifted away from the Jokuan ship. Beyond the ship, the entire Jokuan fleet spread across the curving bright surface of Tarkis, far below. As Rath watched, the ships’ engines flared, and they began their descent onto his homeworld.
Keep reading for an exclusive excerpt from Rath's Redemption, Book Six in The Janus Group series:
So this is how it ends, Rath thought.
Shit.
All around him, the ships of the Jokuan fleet hung in low orbit over Tarkis’ sparkling blue atmosphere. As he watched, the front rank of ships lit their engines, and started their descent onto his homeworld. The invasion had begun.
And I brought them here. Ricken picked Tarkis because he hoped I would inspire the people to join his revolution. And instead, I’ve doomed them all.
He sighed, and was suddenly aware of his breathing. What did Ikeda say? Five minutes of air in this suit? With my hemobots lowering my metabolism, I should be able to stretch that to ten or fifteen. But that would just prolong the inevitable.
He craned his neck, surveying the fleet. He had lost sight of Lonergan in the confusion of being expelled into space – somehow the old man had drifted out of sight already. Rath saw the fleet’s flagship several hundred meters away, and the airlock that Ikeda had ejected him out of. It felt close enough to touch, but it might as well have been on the other side of the planet, for all Rath could do about it.
Stuck here floating, with no means of propulsion. He watched as the ship began to move, slowly, inexorably, toward the planet. Jaymy’s on that ship. I doomed her, too. Press-ganged into the Jokuan army, while I sit here, running out of air, watching my world crumble.
No air supply, and no means of propulsion. This is how it ends.
Rath frowned.
No.
Fuck that.
Activate low oxygen procedures, Rath ordered his hemobots.
He looked down at his hands, surveying the suit. The spacesuit’s rubberized gloves were attached to the suit’s sleeves via a metal collar. He lifted a hand up to his visor and studied it.
No air supply, and no means of propulsion, huh? Bullshit. I’ve got air … and air can be used as a means of propulsion.
Rath found the release catch on the wrist seal, and tested it experimentally. It lifted incrementally under his fingers. He looked up, studying the massive flagship as it started its entry. Rath twisted himself, pointing his back at the ship, with his right hand held straight out in front of him.
Fuck it. Here goes nothing.
He lifted the catch, breaking the seal, and a small burst of air leaked out of his suit, propelling him backward toward the flagship. Red warning lights flashed in his visor, alerting him to the leak. Rath slammed the catch closed again, and glanced over his shoulder.
It worked! I’m getting closer!
But the ship was gathering speed, Rath saw – in less than a minute, it would be gone.
No time to finesse this, Rath decided. He yanked on the catch again, holding it open this time, and took a last gulp of air. The air blasted out of his wrist seal in a rush, white and silent in the vacuum.
>>>Warning! Oxygen supply depleted! a notification appeared on the suit’s visor.
No shit, Rath thought, holding his breath. He sealed the suit again and twisted to face the ship. He was closing the distance, but the flagship was still accelerating. He could see the ship’s stern now.
I’m going too slow! I’m not going to make it!
Suddenly, a white space-suited form drifted in front of him, blocking his path to the ship. As the form rotated slowly in the vacuum, the helmet turned, and Rath saw Lonergan looking back at him. The old man grabbed Rath’s suit with one hand and twisted them, so that Rath’s back was pointed at the retreating flagship. Then he pulled his feet up, setting them on Rath’s chest.
What the hell are you doing, Lonergan? Rath wondered.
Lonergan saluted Rath, smiling sadly, and then pushed off with both feet, sending Rath flying through space toward the flagship, as he tumbled away in the opposite direction.
Realization dawned on Rath. He sacrificed himself for me. Rath turned, and saw the flagship looming large in his visor. Son of a bitch, it worked.
Rath reached out both hands in front of him, grasping for the ship. His fingers brushed the hull, and a second later, the rest of his body bumped up against the ship. Rath scrabbled at the metal, but it was smooth, and slid through his grasp.
No no no!
Suddenly, his fingers caught on a lip – the trailing edge of the ship’s hull, just above the engine nacelles. He dangled for a second, the massive engine blazing just below him, with his feet swinging dangerously close to it – Rath could feel its heat even through the suit. Then he pulled himself up and forward, into an awkward kneeling position on the hull.
Shit! That was close.
He could feel his pulse pounding in his temples, and his chest ached – his hemobots were working hard to maximize every scrap of oxygen in the final breath he had taken, but from experience, he knew he didn’t have more than a minute or two of consciousness left. The ship was approaching Tarkis’ atmosphere now: past the hull, the planet filled Rath’s visor from edge to edge.
Tarkis has air. Once we get low enough, I’ll be able to breathe again. But I have to survive reentry first … and this suit is not going to cut it. I’ll be burned to a crisp out here – assuming I can even hang on when the air friction hits.