by Ryk Brown
“Jesus, that took balls,” Commander Macklay said as he walked alongside the admiral down the corridors of Fleet Command.
“It was just a speech, Commander.”
“You just took control of twenty-eight worlds, sir.”
“Ten, actually,” the admiral corrected.
“You mean technically,” the commander replied. “The other eighteen will do whatever you say because they need our protection.”
“What’s the status of the attack?” the admiral asked, ignoring the commander’s comments.
“Six of eight strike platforms have confirmed launches, as instructed. That’s sixty super JKKVs on the way to their targets.”
“Do we have recon assets standing by to assess the results?” the admiral inquired.
“Yes, sir. All known battle platforms are being tracked by stealth jump recon drones, and manned scout ships are standing by to perform additional recon once the drones confirm the strikes,” the commander assured his superior. “In addition, I have destroyers and more than a hundred gunships ready to attack any battle platforms that might somehow escape destruction.”
“I assume all our defenses are on full-alert?” the admiral wondered.
“If there was an alert level higher than condition one, we’d be at it now, Admiral.” The commander looked at the admiral. “You don’t really think there are Jung ships out there waiting to attack us, do you?”
“No, I don’t,” the admiral admitted. “But only a fool believes that he couldn’t be wrong.”
CHAPTER NINE
Kaylah Yosef was unemployed for the first time in her life, having resigned from her dream job nearly a week ago. For days after resigning, she had been unsure of her decision, but recent events had convinced her otherwise. Like many, she had never fully trusted Admiral Galiardi and had found solace in the knowledge that there were people like Dayton Scott to keep him in check. Now, with the president and his family dead, and Galiardi having seized command of all the industrialized Alliance worlds, especially Earth, war appeared inevitable. If she had to go to war again, she wanted to be sure she was following leaders she believed in; leaders she could trust.
During her entire career in the service, only one person had truly inspired her and made her believe in what she was doing. When he died, she had lost her way for several years. She had become an automaton, of sorts, going to work each day simply to fulfill her obligations to her employers and collect enough compensation to pay her bills. It was an endless cycle she had expected to continue until the day she, too, passed, and it had depressed her to no end.
The job at the institute had breathed new hope and purpose into her life. Finally, she was able to do cutting-edge work; science that might actually help society, instead of adding to the military’s arsenal of weapons that were meant to protect it and keep it from destroying itself.
But would it have been enough, given the current events?
She doubted it. Most likely, she would have been recalled by fleet to work on another top-secret project touted to crush their enemies. She would have found herself back in the same grind.
Her comm-unit buzzed, derailing her contemplations. She picked it up and checked the display screen, recognizing the caller. “It’s about time,” she said, answering the call.
“Sorry,” Captain Hunt replied. “Everyone’s at full-alert. We were boarded upon arrival in the system and then escorted to orbit. We just started loading an hour ago.”
“Where are you?”
“In Earth orbit. Transfer station four. Are you ready to go?”
“Me, and about forty others,” Kaylah replied.
“Forty? How did you find forty people willing to chuck it all and leave Earth?”
“All I had to do was tell them who they’d be fighting for,” Kaylah said. “It worked on me, remember?”
Captain Hunt chuckled. “It worked on all of us, Kaylah.”
“How are we going to get that many people up to your ship without raising suspicion?” Kaylah asked. “Especially, with everyone on alert.”
“I’ve got that all worked out,” Captain Hunt assured her. “Just get everyone to Arenson’s warehouse, in the Branbury district, as quickly as possible. Go in by yourself, and ask for Evard Bertel. He knows what to do.”
“Ooo,” Kaylah cooed. “It sounds very cloak-and-dagger.”
“Listen, Kaylah,” Captain Hunt said, his voice becoming serious, “something has come up. Something I need your help with.”
“What is it?”
“A piece of cargo will be arriving at Arenson’s. A very special piece of cargo. About the size of a small car. It requires very special handling and has very specific power requirements. It even has its own mini fusion reactor.”
“What is it?” Kaylah wondered.
“To be honest, they wouldn’t tell me. All I was told is that it is of the utmost importance that this cargo makes it to the Karuzari.”
“And you’re willing to take it on board?”
“I wasn’t, at first,” he admitted. “But they assured me that if I knew what the cargo was, I’d be willing to accept it.”
“Are you sure you can believe them?” Kaylah wondered. “I mean, considering everything that’s happened the last few days…”
“Which is why I need you to check it out. If you think it should come on board, I’m good with it.”
“I understand,” Kaylah replied. “I’ll take care of it, Chris.”
“Thanks, Kaylah. See you soon.”
Kaylah ended the call and immediately placed one herself.
“Hello?” A man answered, his voice unsure.
“It’s me. It’s time.”
“Thank God,” the man replied, relieved.
“Arenson’s warehouse in the Branbury district. Two hours. Call everyone,” she instructed as she used her comm-unit to search a map of the district in question. “There’s a bar about two blocks west of the warehouse. Have everyone assemble there until I call.”
“Forty people walking into a bar? No, that’s not going to look suspicious.”
“Pretend you’re a softball team after a game, or something. It’s the weekend, after all.”
“This is Australia, Kaylah.”
“A rugby team, then.”
“There’s forty of us,” he reminded her.
“Two teams then,” Kaylah exclaimed. “Use your imagination.”
“What are you going to be doing?”
“I’ll be getting things set up. I’ll call you with further instructions.”
“Got it,” the man replied. “Be careful.”
“You too,” she said, hanging up. Kaylah immediately rose from her seat, grabbing the bag she had kept packed and ready to go since she had arrived a week ago. On her way to the door, she grabbed her purse but stopped dead in her tracks when someone knocked.
Kaylah stood frozen, unsure of what to do. The knock repeated. She quietly set her bags on the floor and pulled a stunner from one of them. She pressed the arming button on the side of the stunner and stepped carefully toward the door, holding the device at the ready. Once at the door, she peeked through the peephole, but it was blocked.
Shit, she thought. A moment later, she spoke. “Who is it?”
“Room service.”
It was a man’s voice with an Australian accent. “I didn’t order anything,” she replied.
“I have an order of strawberry shortcake for room three one four,” the man explained. “For a ‘K Yosef’.”
The explanation caught her by surprise. Strawberry shortcake was one of her favorite desserts, but she hadn’t had one for as long as she could remember. “Why can’t I see you?” she demanded.
“I don’t know ma’am. Perhaps your peeph
ole is broken?”
“Leave it beside the door,” she insisted.
“As you wish, ma’am,” the man promised. “Good day.”
Kaylah waited for the man to leave. After a few minutes, she decided that she had no choice; she had to open the door. It would take her nearly an hour to get to the Branbury district and get everything ready with this Evard Bertel person.
Kaylah took a deep breath, then slowly and quietly opened the door, her stunner held ready. Once open, she peered outside, looking for the dessert the man had promised. She spotted a silver service tray on the floor, with a dome that was likely covering the food. But before she could reach down to pull the tray inside, someone grabbed her hand, stripped away her stunner, and pushed her inside, immediately covering her mouth with his hand, preventing her from screaming.
Kaylah found herself pinned against the wall of her hotel room, a muscular young man holding her captive, standing only centimeters from her face. She looked into his eyes and noticed something familiar.
“Kaylah, it’s me, Krispin.”
Kaylah suddenly recognized the man. It had been many years, and he was at least twelve to fifteen years older than what she remembered, but his eyes were the same.
Krispin slowly removed his hand from her mouth. “Please don’t scream. I won’t hurt you.”
“Krispin? Little Krispin Bornet?”
“That’s me,” he replied, easing his grip on her slightly but not letting go entirely. “Not so little anymore, though.”
“Oh, my God. What are you…” The realization suddenly hit her. The news. The president. That was why his name sounded so familiar when she heard the reports. It was him. It was the same Krispin Bornet.
“I didn’t do it,” Krispin assured her, noticing the change in her expression.
Kaylah didn’t say anything.
“I was there, yes. And I was tasked with killing him, but I didn’t, I swear it. We were set up.” Krispin looked at her for a moment. “You believe me, don’t you?”
“Why should I?” Kaylah asked.
“Believe the little boy you used to babysit,” Krispin suggested, in an almost pleading voice. Krispin stepped back, releasing her. “If you don’t, I don’t know who else will,” he added, offering her back her stunner.
Kaylah took the stunner from him, checking that it was still operative. “How the hell did you find me?”
“I’m spec-ops,” Krispin replied. “I’ve got skills. And, you’ve been using the same comm-unit number for the last twenty years.” Krispin held up his own comm-unit, her number on the display screen. “It was my mother’s,” he explained. “I’ve been carrying it since she died.”
“I was sorry to hear about that, Krispin.”
“Past history,” Krispin assured her. “But, thanks.”
“You said you were tasked with killing President Scott?”
“Yes.”
“By who?”
“I don’t know that I should say,” he replied. “Knowing could put you in danger.”
“Oh, I’m already in danger.”
“Not like this.”
“Trust me, I am.”
Krispin looked confused.
“What is it you want from me?”
“I need help. I need to get off this world.”
“You’re wanted for killing the President of the Earth, the leader of the Alliance, Krispin. Where the hell do you think you’re going to be able to hide?”
“I thought, maybe one of the smaller worlds…the ones no one really cares about.”
Kaylah thought for a moment. “Who tasked you?” she asked, realizing the implications in his choice of verbs. When he didn’t answer, she pressed. “If it’s who I think it is, I may be able to help you.”
Krispin was hesitant.
“You came to me, Krispin. If you want my help, you’re going to have to tell me the truth.”
“Galiardi,” he finally admitted.
“Oh, my God,” she exclaimed, her hand covering her mouth.
“Who did you think it was?” he asked, surprised by her reaction.
“That is who I thought,” she replied.
“Then why did you react that way?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s still a shock, I guess. Are you sure about this? Are you sure it was Galiardi?”
“I was told the order came from him, by my handler. And for it to work as well as it did, there had to be someone at the top pulling strings. I mean, his weapons shield was down and everything.”
“I thought he was killed by an explosion?” Kaylah said.
“He was,” Krispin explained. “Just before I was going to take the shot, the entire stage blew up. It’s a long story, Kaylah.”
“One that you’re going to tell me on the way,” Kaylah assured him as she picked up her bags.
“Where are we going?”
“This is your lucky day, kid,” Kaylah told him as she grabbed his hand and led him to the door. “I’m taking you further away from this world than you could possibly hope for.”
“But we have to do something,” Krispin insisted. “We have to tell someone. We can’t just let Galiardi get away with this. I mean, he’s taking over the entire Alliance, Kaylah.”
“I know, and that’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to tell someone what’s really going on here. But we have to tell the right person. And that person isn’t on this planet. Now move your ass, Krispy.”
* * *
“The key to winning, in any type of combat, is to always be thinking ten to twenty seconds ahead,” General Telles explained as he watched Nathan and Vladimir sparring in the Aurora’s gym.
“Like trying to anticipate your opponent’s next move,” Nathan surmised as he blocked Vladimir’s punch.
“It is much more than that,” the general replied, smiling. “No one can guess an opponent’s next move, repeatedly, with any degree of accuracy. Even those who are lucky will, eventually, find that their luck runs out. What I am talking about is analyzing what the most probable moves are, deciding how best to deal with each of them, and doing this before they take place.”
The general moved toward the two men. “If you please, Captain.”
Nathan stepped aside, making room for General Telles to take his place against Vladimir. “He’s all yours, General.”
“What are the most likely forms of attack that Lieutenant Commander Kamenetskiy will use next?” the general asked.
“He likes to jab with his left three to four times, and then follow with a right cross or a right uppercut,” Nathan replied.
“The jabs are of little consequence, as he is simply trying to distract you with them so he can sneak his right hand in. But, you should already have decided how you will respond to his right-handed attacks. If he attacks with a cross, I would use the opposite hand in a sweeping motion to add to his momentum, which will carry his arm across and cause him to over rotate. This will leave his side unprotected, and my left arm will be free to strike.”
“So, you’ll punch him in the ribs with your left,” Nathan surmised.
“Actually, I would stiffen my fingers and cause the fingertips of my combat gloves to form edges, allowing me to penetrate between his ribs and into his lungs.”
“Ouch,” Nathan exclaimed.
“Remind me never to box with you,” Vladimir added.
“And if he threw an uppercut?” Nathan asked.
“I would lean back and allow him to miss, and then perform the same penetration move but from further aside, as it would be easier for him to get his arm back down to block if I came in at the same forty-five-degree angle as with his cross,” the general explained. “But, allow me to further elaborate. Let us assume that he has a co
hort a few paces behind him, who is raising his weapon to fire in my direction. In such a case, when I perform the penetration, I would curl my fingers and grab hold of his ribs, twist him around and step behind him, using him as a shield. When he takes the friendly fire intended for me, my right hand is free to draw my sidearm and fire at the other man.”
“And if the second man charged for a hand-to-hand attack?” Nathan asked.
“After the penetration, I would use my right hand to push my victim into the second man while I stepped to the left, out of the second man’s path. When he tumbles into the body of the first man, I can pull my sidearm and shoot him as I advance past him. It is about looking at the entire environment, every combatant, every non-combatant, every object, the air pressure, gravity levels, humidity, winds, amount of static electricity in the air, the level of training my combatants are demonstrating, the reaction of non-combatants when witnessing the horrors of deadly combat… All of these things influence every possible action and outcome of any given situation.”
“But how can you possibly analyze all of these elements at once?” Vladimir wondered.
“It does take considerable training,” the general admitted. “Although all Ghatazhak are trained to think in this manner, some are more adept at this than others. That is why there are leaders, and there are followers.”
“How did you become so adept at it?” Nathan wondered.
“I realized early on that it required a greater understanding of all things, not just combat tactics. Human psychology, economics, cultures, societies, weather patterns, physics…these, and many more, must be thoroughly understood in order to excel at what we call ‘predictive combat strategies and tactics’.”
“In a way, I believe I already do this,” Nathan said. “In the past, it was more on a subconscious level. I didn’t realize I was doing it. But ever since my rebirth, I have been seeing things more clearly.”