Blood Red: The Relissarium Wars Space Opera Series, Book 2

by Andrew C Broderick

  Fifteen-year-old Cierra was brushing her hair when there was knock on her door. “Yes?”

  “Cierra, honey, c-can you come into the study, please?” Something about the tremble in her mother’s voice made Cierra’s blood run cold. She placed the sliver handled brush down on her dresser, and left her room.

  The family home was well-furnished. Dazzling picture frames held custom portraits of Cierra and her family. Chandeliers dripped with crystal gems. Her father had worked hard to become a well-renowned merchant. If someone wanted anything, no matter how rare, he was always able to provide it—for a fee of course.

  Cierra’s brothers were already in the study when Cierra walked in. One of them was holding her mother, who looked as if she were about to faint. Cierra’s heart hammered in her throat. “Mom? What is it?”

  “Th-there was a crash.”

  “What?” Cierra felt her knees buckle under her. She landed on a plush arm chair.

  “Your father didn’t make it.” As the words left her lips, Cierra’s mother broke down into devastated sobs.

  It didn’t seem real. How could the man her world revolved around be gone? The details of her father’s death were somewhat vague. All Cierra could find out was that something happened to cause a shuttle crash on an asteroid. Her father had been working to open up a new mine. He had recently become involved with an imperial group that was behind most of the precious metals being sold on the market. It hadn’t mattered. Her mother found out after the funeral that there was no money to be had, and on top of that, her father still owed some debts to his new partners. The imperials wasted no time in collecting their debts.

  Cierra’s family on her mother’s side never had much money. Going back into poverty was something her mother had never wished for her children. Late one night after the funeral, she had heard her mother talking to her paternal grandparents. “How can you just turn your back on them? I don’t care if you don’t want anything to do with me, but the children are your blood! They are the only parts of him that are still living!”

  Her grandmother’s reply was still seared in her brain. “They are tainted with your blood as well. We’ve just gotten into the emperor’s good graces. We can’t risk that status by mingling with such undesirable company.” Cierra had never heard such cold-hearted rejection. Her father’s side of the family didn’t want anything to do with Cierra or her brothers. They were very firm on their position. They had been against her parents’ marriage because of class differences. To them, Cierra’s mother was getting what she deserved.

  Cierra remembered her mother crying herself to sleep at night when the servants were dismissed. She had climbed in bed beside her mother, and the two of them found comfort in each other. Her mother had whispered something that night that broke Cierra’s heart. “I feel like I’ve failed him. He worked so hard to keep our family afloat. Now, everything is falling apart.” She didn’t know what to say to comfort her mother. All Cierra could think to do was hold her, and stroke her hair, the way her mother used to do to her, when she was young.

  Without her father’s income, they had no way to pay their wages. Slowly, Cierra watched her once luxurious home be ripped to its bare bones. All of the furniture had to be sold. Even the frames around the portraits were hawked in order to put food on the table. When the furniture was gone, the house went up on the market. Cierra’s mother tried to keep the family together by a tight grip on what business remained, but it did her no good. Soon, the family was left with little more than their clothes.

  They had moved to a small cottage outside of the city. It wasn’t much, but her mother did what she could to make it feel like home. Wildflowers often decorated the rickety dinner table. Patchwork curtains, sewn together from whatever scraps of fabric they could find, framed the small window.

  Her mother, a beautiful woman, was reduced to embroidery work. It was the only thing she’d learned that had some real value. At least people would pay money to have it done. Her fingers were blistered and calloused from working long hours by candlelight. Desperate to help anyway she could, Cierra worked to clean houses. Her brothers found gainful employment at a tool shop down the road from where they lived.

  Every so often, a social worker for the local government would check in on them. “We can set you up with a weekly food delivery. The emperor wishes to care for all of his subjects, even those who feel they have been forgotten. All you have to do is sign the papers.”

  “We are doing perfectly fine.” Her mother was too proud to accept charity, especially from a program the emperor had established. She was always firm when she answered the social workers, but Cierra knew that sometimes it was hard for her to say no. Her mother would cry every night for a week after the representatives visited. Truth be told, her mother blamed the emperor, and his imperial businessmen, for the death of Cierra’s father.

  Her mother died with her sewing needles in her hands. She’d suffered a seizure days earlier, according to the local coroner, but she never told anyone. She didn’t want her children to worry. The worst day of Cierra’s life was when she accompanied her brothers on the graveside procession. That was the day she decided to do something about the empire.

  The lift ship made contact with the cargo hauler two days later. The Masters of the Carbonari only gave out what information the team needed to carry out its mission. They knew the general outline of what had to be done, but not the specifics. They didn’t even know the name of the Yasta monastery they were supposed to hit.

  “I never did learn where the name of this group comes from.” Theo shifted anxiously in his seat, next to Cierra. They watched the rear access door of the massive cargo ship open to take the smaller orbital lift inside it.

  Cierra kept her eyes on the docking bay. “You mean the Brotherhood? I would think it’s pretty obvious.” They both wore standard work coveralls for the trip. Should any local customs officials search the cargo hold, the team would have an alibi as common workers on the smaller vessel.

  “No, I meant ‘Carbonari’. What the hell is that supposed to mean? It never came up in the degree ritual.” Theo’s foot tapped rapidly on the floor. It was a nervous habit.

  “I was once told it had something to do with people who reclaimed carbon from furnaces, but someone else told me it had to do with the common element in all life. To tell you the truth, I don’t think anyone really knows. It runs so far back in time that whoever knew is long gone. I don’t see how it makes a difference, though. The mission is the same, no matter what you want to call us.” Her hand darted out, and pressed down on Theo’s knee to stop him from shaking his leg and tapping his foot. Cierra liked to have the pre-mission time to meditate and calm her mind. Theo’s leg jiggling was making that nearly impossible.

  Once the orbital lift was in place, everyone was secured into couches. Their straps held them firmly in place. No one was allowed to be unrestrained during a portal jump. Folding space did strange things to people’s minds, so most crewmembers were on sedatives. The internal guidance system would make the jump. It would lock in on the best point of exit, and pull them the rest of the way through the portal. Humans or any other sentient lifeforms weren’t involved, unless it was an emergency.

  Theo woke to the unbuckling of harness straps, as the trip through the universe ended. Once again, the Heidelberg reactors had pulled them across the void. He didn’t understand how they worked exactly—he had made the mistake of mentioning that to Hubard once, and had to sit through what felt like hours of scientific lectures on the subject. After that, he decided that he didn’t really need to know the specifics of something unless it directly affected him.

  “Coming up on Turtiez’s orbit,” the intercom system boomed through the passenger compartment. Theo floated over to his locker, and pulled out the backpack he’d packed under Cierra’s supervision. The lift was scheduled to land in an hour, after the separation from the cargo ship.

  “So, it’s on Turtiez,” Theo said, as he assembled with the
others in a breakroom they had commandeered for a last-minute briefing. “I wondered where they’d send us.”

  Makram sat at the head of the table, with Cierra at his side. “Let’s get something straight. I didn’t want to lead this team. They stuck me with the job. That said, I plan to see it carried out with precision. Screw up, and I’ll have no qualms about leaving you behind to those Yasta crazies. Don’t even think about firing until I tell you, and the same goes for the cease-fire. Once I give the order to shoot, it stays in effect until you hear me yell ‘hold’. The only exception is if you’re taken out, or if the same happens to me.” He has already changed into the imitation Yasta robes.

  Theo looked around sheepishly. He whispered into Cierra’s ear. “Were we supposed to change already?”

  “Shh!” She batted him away, and glared at him.

  Makram continued talking over them. “We’ll be on the surface soon enough. The festival down there that kept the target monastery busy was over two days ago. We don’t think they suspect anything. Our most vulnerable moment will be from orbit to landing. If they manage to take us out, we’ll all be charred chunks in a few seconds. Fortunately, for us, we have Hubard monitoring things for the drop, so I don’t have to worry. Right Hubard?”

  The old engineer, who made a better monk than the rest in his robes, nodded sheepishly. “Right.” Something about his reaction made Theo suspect that things had not gone to plan at least once before. It did nothing to calm his pre-mission jitters.

  “Good. We land this ship, assemble outside, and make our way to the Monastery of Hilarion. Once we’re close, we’ll link up with Hojae, who’s supposed to be down there waiting for us. I say ‘supposed to’ because we’ve had no word from him in the last forty-eight hours. Anything could have happened in that time. We won’t know, until we reach the point where he was scheduled to rendezvous with us. This is why we’ll proceed with extreme caution. But, everyone to their seats. We need to be strapped back in and ready.” The group left the briefing room, and returned to their acceleration chairs.

  Theo looked around, trying to find a place to change his clothes. “I’ll just—”

  “Rookie, get to your seat!” Makram barked at him.

  Theo hurried back to his seat. He looked around with wide eyes. Everyone else was strapped in. A timer was counting down to show how long they had before landing. “Oh, screw it.” Theo reached in his bag and grabbed his robes. He stripped to his underwear, and began tugging the disguise over his head.

  “Two minutes ‘till landing,” Makram called out to the others. They gripped the armrests on the chairs. Makram continued to focus on the screen in front of him.

  “Better hurry.” Cierra giggled, as she watched Theo struggle.

  “Shut up.” Theo growled at her. He jammed his head through the opening at the top of the robes, and pulled his arms through the correct slots. He quickly buckled himself in place next to Cierra, stashed the rest of his kit under his seat, and looked up at her with a smug look on his face.

  Other than a few bumps, they didn’t have any trouble during the final drop. Theo stayed put, and watched Makram across from him. Makram had the only screen in the passenger area, and kept it to himself. Theo could tell from his expression he was worried a few times during the final approach, but his face changed to calm after each encounter. The avionics inside the orbital lift kept the ground forces on Turtiez confused enough. Suddenly, there was a jarring thump. Theo could tell by the satisfied look on Makram’s face they were on the surface.

  Makram swung the screen away and unsnapped his harness, as the others followed him. “Everybody outside. Grab your gear, and let’s move. Hubard will greet us once we get on the ground.”

  Theo pulled his backpack out from under his seat. He made certain to strap the lasana blade in its scabbard under his robes. The holster for his laser was opposite the sword. He’d doubled checked to make sure the battery was at full power. Everything was ready.

  Hubard was already outside the lift when the remainder of the team filed out. He wore the same Yasta robes as the rest of them. The older man stood in the swampy grassland where they’d landed. He looked up at the sky.

  “Not exactly where we were supposed to come down, but it’s closer to our objective.” He walked along the side of the lift. With his hand, he checked it for any leaks or hull breaches.

  “How close are we?” Makram frowned in concern. “And what do you mean by ‘not exactly’.”

  Hubard repositioned his spectacles. “We were intercepted by some kind of surface-to-air projectile, the moment we came through the ionosphere. It was headed in our direction. I had to pull a few old tricks to force it back in the direction it came from. Hope it wasn’t packing anything atomic, because I’m sure it made a big bang when it returned. They were ready for us. Dammit, I warned the Council! They wouldn’t listen to me.” He turned, and swore at some nearby trees.

  Hubard sighed and continued speaking. “Like I said, the missile was sent back from whence it came. I had to move our landing site away. If they knew where we made entry to the atmosphere, it follows they had some knowledge of where we intended to land. So, I found a better location, about fifty miles closer than the first.”

  “How far are we from that monastery?” Cherish was adjusting her mental calculations.

  “We’re only twelve miles away.”

  There was a brief moment of silence from the team. Makram came back from cursing at the local flora. “We’re a lot closer than planned. This changes everything. I’ll have to move the time frame up quite a bit.”

  “Hojae is supposed to meet us tomorrow. How close are we to the rendezvous point?” Cierra readjusted her pack on her shoulder.

  Hubard glanced at a map he was holding. “We’re about a mile away. You might want to go over now, and see if he’s already there.”

  “Good idea,” Makram agreed. “We’ll have to be careful. The place might be under watch. In fact, I assume it is, since they shot at us on the way down.”

  Hubard tapped his chin thoughtfully. “There’s no reason for Kurga, Rix, and myself to travel with you to the monastery. Irane can stay here too. We can have the lift in the air the moment you return. Each of us has a gun, so we should have all the protection we need.”

  Makram hesitated a minute. “Yeah, sounds like a better option. If anything goes wrong, you’ll be able to get off the surface faster.” Hubard and the others filed back into the lift. Makram was left with Theo, Cherish, and Cierra. “Let’s move. I just hope Hojae’s at the meetup point, and not in a cell.

  Three

  Later in the afternoon, they reached the small clearing in the woods. It appeared deserted. They were at the outskirts of the monastery. It was unlikely that any of the Yasta brothers would be out this far unless they were planning an ambush. Makram wanted to ensure the team wouldn’t meet any of the locals. People who might ask the wrong questions were a constant source of fear for him. He kept the team on a trajectory toward the monastery, and had them skirt any groups of pilgrims that were still milling around.

  Hojae’s meet-up point was supposed to be in the clearing in the woods, due south of the monastery. In the original plan, he would be waiting for them in Yasta robes outside a small campsite. This wooded area was owned by the local government. They maintained it as a retreat for anyone who wanted some peace on their way to the monastery during the festival. Originally, Makram planned to approach the campsite with the entire team. They would act as any other group of Yasta monastics. That was before they were fired at upon entry.

  Now, with the enemy tipped off, it would be considerably harder. He didn’t want to risk the entire team. Instead, he wanted to scout the area, to see if there were any sentries waiting for them. If there were, they’d abandon the camping area, and return to the orbital lift. The mission would be comprised, the Carbonari leadership would have to think of another plan, but his team would be safe. Luckily, a quick swing through the wooded area around the c
ampground showed no sentries. They continued to the campsite, and found the clearing devoid of any campers, save one.

  Makram was still leery of the situation. “The rest of you stay in the forest and wait. I’m going in to see if that’s Hojae’s tent by the camp fire. If it is, you can join me. If someone tries to capture or take me out, get back to the lift as fast as you can run. I’ll hold them back as long as I can.” He stood behind the tree line and looked through it.

  “Do you want me to go in instead? I’ve got better weapons built into me than you carry. Besides, that’s Hojae’s profile inside the tent.” Cherish offered to take his place.

  Makram blinked at her in surprise. “You can see inside the tent?”

  “Not exactly. I pick up body heat signatures, and his Josti image is unlike any other I would expect to find on this world.”

  “Remind me to keep that talent in mind.” He was slightly impressed with her new upgrades. Makram took a moment to steel himself. “Thanks, but I’ll be the one risking the clearing. The rest of you, remember what I said if the shooting starts.”

  Makram worked his way through the tree line and emerged into the clearing. He stopped and looked around. Only the chirps of local birds filled the air, but that didn’t mean much; they could be replicated and faked. Makram, one hand on the laser he carried under his robes, made his way to the lone campsite.

  The campsite consisted of one cheap tent, a folding chair, some water jugs, and a bag. From the inside, he could hear the snores of someone in a deep sleep. It wasn’t the exact way most ambushes were carried out, but Makram still didn’t feel safe.

  “Excuse me, brother,” Makram spoke softly into the tent opening, “I’m lost. Could you help me find my way around this place?” The tent occupant’s sword was at Makram’s neck before the team commander could draw his laser.