A Shifting Alliance (Galaxy Ascendant Book 3)

by Yakov Merkin

  “Attention, attention,” said a loud, distinctly Revittan voice over what had to be some massive, widespread broadcast system. “All Nihlurans are to report immediately to either the parade ground, or the closest police station for brief verification and registration. This is by direct order of Director Corras Revval of the Imperial Revittan Security Service, acting on behalf of the emperor. Failure to report as ordered will be considered a high crime, punishable by the full extent of the law. Again, all Nihlurans, report immediately to either the parade ground or the nearest police station.”

  Ayil froze, and even though the two of them were alone, she suddenly felt very exposed. This could not be good, and likely meant that the Empire either knew or suspected that Ayil and her companions were here. And even if this just was a “normal” police verification check—assuming that, indeed, that was all the much-feared IRSS had planned, their false records and identification would likely not stand up to scrutiny. There were many failings in many Imperial branches and industries, but where the IRSS was concerned, it was extremely skilled and efficient, from its infamous director on down.

  “I, I need to get my companions, and get off world,” she said, for the first time in a long while having trouble finding the right words.

  “Where’s your ship?”

  “In one of the public docking bays, not far.”

  The Svetoran shook her head. ‘You won’t be able to get to it. The IRSS will have already grounded all outgoing travel and locked down docking bays for now, and even if that restriction is loosened soon, they’ll likely stop and search every ship before it gets takeoff clearance.” She paused for a moment, then held out a hand. “Give me your pad. I’m taking a risk here, but seeing as the Empire wants to round up all of your kind already, I think I can trust you to keep a secret.”

  Ayil handed over the pad, and the Svetoran entered in an address. “Get your friends, and meet me there. Can’t guarantee your safety, but it’ll be safer than most places here.”

  Ayil accepted the pad back. “Thank you. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  The Svetoran nodded, and briefly glanced toward the sound of sirens before turning back to Ayil. “Hurry, and good luck. You can call me Reki, by the way. We never made proper introductions.”

  “Ayil,” Ayil replied. “Thank you for the aid, and trust,” she added, then set off at a fast walk.

  Fortunately, the fear her mind had conjured, of masses of Revittan soldiers marching down the road looking for people to arrest did not seem to reflect the situation, at least not yet. However, what had been a very pleasant environment only a few minutes earlier was now anything but. The busy, shop-filled streets felt confining, and for all she knew police, or worse, could be lurking inside any of them. And whereas before she hadn’t warranted more than a second glance from people—because, who could resist at least a second glance at her?—now everyone looked at her with what could best be described as suspicion, and everyone tried to keep their distance.

  When she reached the hotel, she had her first interaction regarding the public directive.

  “Have you reported to the authorities yet?” asked the Revittan behind the desk.

  Ayil smiled at her, hoping she was convincing in her act that nothing was wrong. “I’m heading there in a minute; I’m not sure my companions heard the notification, so I’m going to let them know, and we’ll all go together.”

  The woman nodded. “Please do go directly. I don’t want any trouble with the IRSS here.”

  “Neither do I,” Ayil replied with a wider smile, then quickly swept up the stairs; she didn’t trust the elevator right now, and walked quickly to the room, where she found Dran and Liya, eyes locked on Dran’s pad.

  “Ayil, there you are,” Liya said, rising and giving her a hug. “We wanted to call you, but were worried that everything is being watched even more closely now. Do you know exactly what’s going on?”

  “You heard the announcement?”

  Liya and Dran both nodded.

  “Then I don’t know any more than you do at the moment, other than that trying to get to the ship and escape is not an option. The rebel contact I went to meet gave me an address she said would be safer than most places on world for now, where we can hopefully wait until they relax restrictions enough to get to the ship and get out of here. But we have to go now. I didn’t see troops or police on the streets now, but I can’t imagine that’ll be long in coming. Just grab anything essential, and let’s go. The girl at the front desk saw me come in, and I would not put it past her to report our presence just to ensure as minimal a disturbance as possible should the security service come looking.”

  They spent a minute frantically throwing things together; fortunately, they’d left most of their things on the ship, and lastly, they put on hooded coats. It wasn’t necessarily supposed to rain today, but there had been a decent amount of clouds in the sky, and the weather could change rapidly here. Hopefully wearing hoods wouldn’t draw quite as much attention as their Nihluran features would.

  Ayil quickly looked up directions to the address Reki had given her, committed it to memory, then smashed the device. “Can’t risk them learning where we’re going,” she explained, then led the way out. There wasn’t anything on the pad that wasn’t backed up, anyway, so no big loss.

  “The nearest police station is down the street that way,” the front desk girl said loudly, pointing, as they passed her by and went in the opposite direction.

  There were certainly more sirens to be heard in the background now, not too far away, as well as distant voices speaking illegibly into amplifiers.

  “This way,” Ayil said, then began to walk quickly toward their destination.

  For the first few minutes of their fast walk, things were quiet; it seemed that even citizens with nothing to worry about didn’t want to risk getting in the way of the authorities. So much the better.

  As they drew closer, however, Ayil realized a problem. The address they had been given was in a poorer area, where a fair number of Nihlurans lived, and thus would be a likely place for the authorities to mass.

  But they had no choice, did they?

  Sure enough, a short while later, they saw their first policemen, a trio of them standing at a corner. They didn’t seem to be looking for anyone, however, so maybe they were still on regular duty. Better not to risk anything though. “Let’s do ‘drunk carry’,” Ayil whispered to her partners.

  Dran rolled his eyes—he always complained that he had to play the drunk every time—but didn’t argue. He moved between Ayil and Liya, and let them support him as he reigned drunkenness. “Have you gained weight?” Ayil asked.

  “If I have, it’s your fault,” he snapped back, then quieted and kept his hooded head low as they approached the officers.

  “Hey there, you alright?” Asked the first officer to spot them. It didn’t seem like he knew what they were, yet. Please stay that way.

  “Yes, yes, we are fine, officer,” Ayil replied, then bit back a curse at letting her distinctly non-Revittan accent present itself prominently. “It’s early, but we had what to celebrate,” she went on, making an effort to suppress it and hoping he didn’t notice, “and my friend here had a bit too much. Lucky for him we took the day off, eh?”

  Just ignore us, just ignore us.

  Unfortunately, the officer was a talkative one, and curious. “Be careful, there’s some stuff going on right now,” he said as he looked over at them from across the narrow street, clearly putting two and two together in his head, thanks to the hoods, most likely. “Hey, could you just wait for a moment?” he said as he started to approach.

  Ayil cursed and maneuvered a hand to the pistol she had concealed on her inner thigh.

  “Why are you wearing hoods?” The officer asked.

  Ayil drew her weapon, flicked it to stun, spun, and shot the officer in the face, her hood falling from her head in the process. No reason to kill this hapless Revittan.

  The o
ther guards started at the sudden turn of events and went for their own weapons, but these were city cops, and Ayil had spent years in places that’d make them wet themselves. They hadn’t even gotten their weapons out by the time Ayil took them both down—though one managed to shout something into his comm unit.

  “Time to run, I think,” she said to Dran and Liya, who had pulled out their own weapons, and received a pair of nods.

  Try began to sprint toward their destination, while all the while the various sounds of approaching police grew ever louder.

  There would, of course, be a whole other problem; they couldn’t simply beat the authorities to the safe-house, as leading them right there would defeat the entire purpose of it. They’d need to think of something fast.

  Very fast, as police dusters sped around a corner and closed in from above, sporadic stun blasts coming their way as well.

  “Do we have a plan?” Liya asked as they swung around another corner and she fired wildly behind them.

  Ayil was about to reply with an exasperated “no,” when she spotted something about a block ahead, just turning a corner. “I think I do.”

  “It’s the garbage collector, isn’t it,” Dran groaned.

  Ayil grinned despite her growing fatigue. “Of course it is!”

  However, it was not the simplest matter. They would have to round the corner and get into the trash compartment before the police got close enough to spot them. And that wasn’t even mentioning the issue of making sure they didn’t get crushed by a new load of garbage while hiding.

  “The timing is going to be tough,” Liya said as they neared the corner.

  “No time for talking, just go!” Dran shouted as they turned the corner, quickly closed with the automated garbage collector, and, one at a time, jumped inside while its compartment was open. Ayil went last, and before she jumped in, took a quick look down the street at the upcoming garbage loads. They might be alright for a bit.

  Then she jumped inside, and immediately gagged. “Vahok!” she cursed, then immediately regretted it as it let more of the stench in.

  “So what are you going to name this incredible smell you’ve discovered?” Liya asked as Ayil tried to breathe without smelling a thing, and wished she could find a way to not touch anything.

  Ayil grabbed the nearest object, not daring to look at what it was, and tossed it at her sister.

  “Watching you two snark at each other is enjoyable and all,” Dran said as he held his nose shut, which made his voice sound funny enough to make Ayil laugh, which led to a larger dose of rancid air, “but when can we get out of here?” he went on, voice dropping to a whisper.

  Ayil took the hint, and refocused on trying to hear if there was anyone outside. “Soon, if the police aren’t still outside. If they haven’t stopped this thing, they probably don’t know we’re in here, and if this keeps going straight it will take us to within one block of the safe-house. Of course, we might just get out of here and find the police waiting for us, but we’ll never know until we try.”

  “We should give them hugs if they are, at least make them smell too if they’re going to arrest us,” Liya whispered. “Well, that is assuming we can’t stun them all first.”

  Her weapon! Ayil quickly moved her hand around, deliberately not even trying to see what she was touching, and thankfully found her pistol. Despite it feeling gross as well, she grabbed onto it tightly as she tried to calculate how far they had gone, wincing as small garbage loads were periodically dumped onto them.

  “Soon,” she breathed as she waited for the compartment hatch to open again.

  After what felt like an eternity, it finally opened. “Now!”

  Ayil dove out, eagerly gulping in clean air, and Dran and Liya practically collided with her as they did the same. And, Icali be praised, there were no policemen or anyone else in the immediate area—though they were certainly close by.

  “This way,” she said quietly, then began to sprint the final stretch until she reached a small private home with the right address.

  They couldn’t worry about this being safe anymore, so Ayil simply knocked.

  A few moments later, the door slid open, revealing her Svetoran friend, Reki, who arched an eye and wrinkled her nose. “You look—and smell—like a dumpster.”

  “What, you’ve never hidden inside a garbage collector before? We may ask to use the shower.”

  Reki nodded. “Let’s get you inside first, before the IRSS catches up with you,” she said, then stepped to the side to let the trio enter.

  It was a fairly nice place for a safe-house; based on the level of decoration, at least what would be considered middle class here; it was probably the home of someone involved in all this.

  “Follow me,” Reki said once she closed and locked the door.

  Ayil led her small group after the Svetoran, and they soon found themselves in a larger room where no fewer than a dozen people were sitting or standing, and went silent as soon as the newcomers entered the room.

  “Well, what exactly have we walked into?” Ayil asked. “Doesn’t look like a party.”

  Reki gestured to the group. “Welcome to the Free People’s Alliance—the rebellion.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Once again, Darkclaw’s mind was back in the hollow world, in the Custorellatus palace. It really should not be; at the moment, he was en route with a sizable Alliance fleet to a world which, intelligence indicated, was a major Revittan shipyard. The latest move in the offensive that, thus far, was going better than expected. Morale was high, the various fleets that made up the Alliance’s strength were working well together, and if things continued along the same path, this war might indeed be a short one. As with most authoritarian societies, many key appointments were made not on merit, but on political connections. This certainly appeared to be the case with many high-ranking military officers, and was likely part of the reason things were going so well for the Alliance thus far.

  But here he was, still unable to shake off those memories and obsessing over what it all meant. There had been nothing in the received intelligence thus far to indicate for certain that the corrupted Scions had engineered the start of this war, though they had learned that the war was begun by the Revittans very abruptly, without the emperor following the usual communication channels. It was, unfortunately, likely too much to expect any significant figures within the Empire to investigate this and potentially lead to a leadership change and an end to the war, but as propaganda sent to the citizens of the Empire, it could help weaken the resolve of the masses.

  Perhaps it was the fear that somehow, despite his death, that the High Lord’s influence on the galaxy yet lingered, that made Darkclaw unable to put those worries out of mind. Hopefully, they would find that thing that had escaped, and destroy it. That would finally close the book on the last war, and hopefully portend the end of this new, destructive conflict.

  Darkclaw was pulled from his thoughts a few moments later as the comm unit in his quarters began to ding. “Yes?” He said as he activated it.

  “We are approaching the Nirassil System, High Executor,” said the Sarcendar’s ship commander.

  “Thank you, Commander,” Darkclaw replied as he rose to his feet, and looked over at one of the few decorations in the room, a still image of him, Nayasar, Felivas, and Senkar, taken shortly after the peace accords. A time they had thought the worst was behind them. How long would it be until they could feel a similar sense of relief? “I will be on the command deck shortly. Have the crew begin battle preparations.”

  “Yes, High Executor,” the ship commander replied, then ended the communication.

  This would be his first battle in this new war, Darkclaw realized as he exited his quarters and began the trip up to the command deck. He hoped his command skills had not diminished with lack of use, and that he would not enjoy returning to an old, familiar activity. As his talks with Keeneye and some others had demonstrated, there were two separate dangers the Tyrannodons f
aced in this war, and ultimately it would be up to Darkclaw to help them survive both.

  ###

  “Spearhead wings, move to engage the starboard flank of the Revittan formation near the moon,” Darkclaw ordered. “Draw as much fire as you can, and keep them busy.”

  As the Talvostan light capital ship wings angled off to attack the Revittan fleet from two separate directions, Darkclaw opened a channel to the small Daeris force that had come along for this mission. They had wanted to prove themselves in battle, and this would be an excellent opportunity for them as well as for Darkclaw to see just what they hold do.

  “Flamestrike Squadron, once the Revittan defense fleet has fully engaged the spear wings, make your move. Make one run, do as much damage as you can, and reassess the situation before making another, if it is required.

  “Acknowledged, High Executor,” came the slightly muffled reply. The Daeris Raider-class assault ships had minimal onboard life support; an oddity among modern warships that worked well for this ship type, given the type of assaults Daeris historically preferred.

  After a quick check to be sure the engagements near the moon and those over the planet itself were going well enough, Darkclaw shifted his attention to the display screen, and he watched as the twenty gunships streaked toward the largely undefended shipyards and opened fire once they got in close, unleashing heavy fire from both the underside and rear of the ships, their low profiles allowing them to evade most of the defensive fire from the station as they made one long pass. As they pulled away sharply and flew over the moon, the shipyards and attached storage facilities erupted into flames. There would not be a need for a second attack run.

  “The enemy fleet is falling back, High Executor,” said the Sarcendar’s helm operator. “Should we pursue?”

  Darkclaw looked back at the tactical display, which showed the remnants of the Revittan fleet by the moon breaking off, while the fleet defending the still largely intact shipyard facilities closer to the planet were similarly angling away. Could the latter be a trap, or had they simply determined that this battle was no longer winnable? Or, was this a case of poor discipline?