“I request permission to resume all of my duties sir.”
Remy eyed her. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir.”
Remy grinned. “I had a feeling you would say that. Permission granted.”
“Can I speak freely, sir?”
“Of course.”
“We have to respond to the signal. I get that. If some swabbies survived, we need to help them. But it smells like a Hudathan trap. How come the beacon came on after we landed?”
Remy looked grim. “Captain Olson and I share your concern. Believe me we do.”
“So,” McKee said, “if it’s a trap, maybe we can turn that to our advantage.”
Remy’s eyebrows rose. “Please continue.”
McKee groped for words at first, found them, and spoke for the better part of two minutes. And when she was finished, a big grin appeared on Remy’s face. “You know something, Lieutenant? I like jackers. Especially ones who can think outside of the box.”
By the time the sun began to set, and violet haze settled over the desert, the company was ready to set forth. In keeping with McKee’s suggestion, the hats went first, with the RAVs and two squads of cavalry bringing up the rear. The others, four in all, were half a mile out in either direction where they could protect the column’s flanks. And on her orders, all of the bio bods were on foot. That included McKee herself—and she knew the twelve-mile hike was going to be difficult for her. But she couldn’t ask others to do what she wasn’t willing to do herself.
As the sun vanished, and a dusting of stars appeared in the sky, there was no noise other than the steady whir of servos, the crunch of boots on gravel, and the rasp of her own breathing. Bartov was carrying her pack, for which she was grateful—because her body was still recovering from the effects of the wing toxin. But there was nothing she could do other than drop another stim tab and keep walking. At least the terrain was flat, which meant they could expect to arrive in about three hours.
Time seemed to drag as the moon rose and threw an eerie white glow over the desert as they wound their way between outcroppings of rock, down through gullies, and up over wind-scoured hills. It was like marching through a dreamscape.
But all dreams must end, and such was the case as Remy spoke over the company’s alternative infrared com net. It was set on “scatter,” which meant that the legionnaires didn’t have to establish a line-of-sight connection in order to communicate with each other. Though not appropriate for enclosed spaces like buildings, the system was perfect for the desert, and almost as secure as a wired connection would have been. “This is Nine. Company, halt. Platoons 1 and 2 will take up defensive positions. Platoon 3 will prepare for Operation Sucker. Eight, you are a go. Over.”
Charlie-Eight, which was to say Captain Olson, was under orders to lead a team of hats forward to scout the situation out. What was waiting for them up ahead? A downed shuttle with some sailors hiding inside? Or a Hudathan trap? McKee didn’t envy the other woman. But if the prospect bothered Olson, there had been no sign of it during the premission brief. She might be a bitch, but she was part of team One-Five for a reason.
Now there was nothing any of them could do but wait. The minutes seemed to crawl by as the XO and her people elbowed their way forward. Finally Olson’s voice was heard. “This is Charlie-Eight . . . There isn’t any shuttle. What we’re looking at is a standard escape pod. The kind they use on navy ships. But that’s really weird because . . .”
None of them got to hear why the pod was weird because that’s when there was a flash of light, a loud boom, and the object in question ceased to exist. As did Olson and her three-person team. The trap had been sprung.
The purpose of the explosion was to not only kill the team sent to investigate the pod but to create a flash of light that would ruin any survivors’ night vision. That part of the strategy wasn’t very successful because the bio bods were wearing helmets that dampened their visors. And McKee’s T-1s weren’t bothered in the least.
They’d been warned of such a possibility and weren’t “looking” at the pod. Their sensors were focused on the night sky, their onboard computers were linked to create a joint fire-control system, and the cans mounted on their shoulders were hot.
So when they detected two aircraft approaching from the east, there was no need for McKee to give an order. Two preselected T-1s fired twelve heat-seeking rockets each. Weapons that would have been equally effective against ground targets had some Hudathan tanks been positioned in the area. The results were spectacular.
Both of what were later determined to be Hudathan assault boats were transformed into momentary suns, overlapping claps of thunder were heard, and the legionnaires were treated to a fireworks show as pieces of flaming debris twirled down from the sky. McKee chinned her mike. “This is Charlie-One. Both targets were destroyed. AA team 2 is armed and ready to fire. Over.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Remy said somberly, “but remain on standby. The second squad, first platoon will search for remains. We lost four legionnaires tonight but, when our time comes, we’ll see them again.”
A voice said, “CAMERONE,” and was answered by all the rest. “CAMERONE!” Blood had been drawn—and the enemy would respond.
CHAPTER: 10
Sadly, there have been many occasions on which we battled ourselves.
GRAND MARSHAL NIMU WURLA-KA (RET.)
Instructor, Hudathan War College
Standard year 1956
PLANET HUDATHA
The message torp exited the nowhere land of hyperspace and appeared fifty thousand miles off Hudatha. The vehicle announced itself a few seconds later. Recognition codes were exchanged, permission was granted, and the torpedo was allowed to enter orbit. Once the proper command was sent to the torpedo, the data in its memory banks was downloaded to the planet below. Minutes later, an unencrypted report was hand-delivered to both Grand Admiral Dora-Da and War Commander Ona-Ka.
But even though Admiral Nola-Ba’s message was labeled “urgent,” hundreds of such communications arrived each day. And when the staff officer charged with managing Grand Admiral Dura-Da’s inbox saw that the report had originated from a low-priority system out on the frontier, he assumed that the “urgent” classification had been applied to the communication by an officer who hoped to jump the queue by labeling a routine message as “urgent.” It was a common practice and one he was determined to stamp out. So he gave the message a much lower priority and passed it on. Maybe, if the staff meeting concluded on time, the admiral would read it before he left for home.
Meanwhile, in an office nearby, the same message was received in a very different way. War Commander Ona-Ka’s attaché was named Hosep Ma-Ka. And when he saw that the urgent message was from Admiral Nola-Ba, he gave it an even higher priority, knowing that Ona-Ka hated Nola-Ba and was interested in everything the officer did. And, as luck would have it, Ma-Ka happened to be present when Ona-Ka opened the message and Nola-Ba’s holographic likeness appeared over the war commander’s desk.
Ma-Ka thought the admiral looked tired but excited as well, judging from the way he was leaning forward. “Greetings. I have exciting news to report,” Nola-Ba said importantly. “It seems that one of our battle groups set an ambush near a commonly used jump point. A flotilla of Human ships blundered into the trap and most were destroyed. But among the vessels that managed to escape was a light cruiser called the Victorious. And that ship was carrying none other than Empress Ophelia Ordanus herself!
“After an emergency hyperspace jump, the Victorious entered normal space in the vicinity of Savas, which is presently under my, that is to say our, control. Because of damage suffered during the ambush, the Human vessel was forced to make a crash landing. Many crew members were killed on impact, but the empress survived, and I have her in custody.”
Nola-Ba paused at that point as if to savor the moment. “Gra
nd Admiral Dura-Da, War Commander Ona-Ka, I give you Empress Ordanus.”
The holo broke up into a thousand multicolored chips of light that swirled and flew back together again. Then a Human appeared. There were some contusions on the alien’s face. Other than that, the female looked like the pictures he’d seen. The Humans struck him as small, seemingly defenseless creatures who would be easy to eradicate. Why that effort had proved to be so difficult was a mystery to him. When the empress spoke, her words were translated into Hudathan by the holoplayer. “My name is Empress Ophelia Ordanus. Free me or die.”
War Commander Ona-Ka had been silent until then. Now his fist fell on the desk causing various objects to jump into the air. “Did you hear that? The Human dares to threaten us!”
Ma-Ka had heard it. And thought her statement was quite courageous given the circumstances. He wasn’t stupid enough to say that, however, and held his tongue as Nola-Ba reappeared. “By now you may be wondering if the Human is who she claims to be. I lack the means to carry out DNA testing on the Human but have corroborating testimony regarding her identity from a number of survivors, all of whom were subjected to various types of torture. Based on that, I think there is an extremely high probability that the creature is who she claims to be.
“I am sending notification via message torpedo because it seems unwise to transport such a high-value prisoner with anything less than a battle group—and I have orders to hold this system. However, if you’d like me to bring her to Hudatha using the force at my disposal, please send an order to that effect. It seems likely that the Humans are searching for the empress, so time is of the essence.”
Ona-Ka swore as the holo collapsed in on itself. “The clanless bastard!”
Ma-Ka was mystified. Surely there was reason to praise Admiral Nola-Ba rather than curse him. “I’m sorry, War Commander . . . I don’t understand.”
Ona-Ka was on his feet by then and pacing back and forth in front of a large window. “Nola-Ba could have sent her here on one of his ships. The nonsense about the need for a battle group was just that . . . Nonsense. His actual purpose was to let Grand Admiral Dura-Da and the Da clan’s allies know that he’s holding a prize which could have an effect on the upcoming elections. Imagine! If he delivers the Human empress to Hudatha, the populace will go wild!
“He had to inform me, or ignore the chain of command, and open himself to more charges. By now you can be sure that Dura-Da is conferring with his advisors about how to best exploit the news.”
Ona-Ka stopped and looked at Ma-Ka. “Contact the clan council and inform them that we must meet in two hours. Tell them that time is critical. Go.” Ma-Ka went.
—
The extended Ka family maintained what amounted to a fortress in the City of Blades. It was part keep, part armory, and part social center. A home away from home for any male who happened to be visiting the city. As such, it was large and much given to thick walls pierced with loopholes that dated back to the era of black-powder weapons. All of which made it the ideal location for the sort of secret meeting Ona-Ka had requested.
The meeting began right on time. In light of the short notice, only five members of the seven-member clan council could attend. But that was sufficient, and as Ona-Ka waited for Council Leader Sak-Ka to open the meeting, he was pleased with the quality of the turnout. Every council member had been in the military and would understand the gravity of the situation. “And so,” Sak-Ka said, as he eyed those seated around the circular table, “War Commander Ona-Ka has important news for us. War Commander?”
Ona-Ka nodded. “Thank you. I have important news indeed . . . The essence of which is that a ship carrying the Human empress was forced to crash-land on the planet Savas, where she was captured by Admiral Nola-Ba.”
Ona-Ka heard a collective groan followed by all sorts of commentary. “Savas? Where’s that?” one member inquired.
“Nola-Ba?” another demanded. “He’s a disgrace.”
“Since the Ba family is aligned with the Da clan,” one of the council members observed, “this development will make Triad Uba-Da’s position that much stronger.”
“And prevent us from securing another seat on the triad,” another put in.
The triad was the triumvirate that ruled the Hudathan empire. At the moment it included members of the Ka, Da, and Ra clans. So a second Ka would allow that clan to control the empire. Ona-Ka saw the opportunity and took it. “That’s correct . . . Once the public learns of the capture, it will be seen as an enormous accomplishment for the Da clan and its allies. And, with the general election nearly upon us, that will ensure Uba-Da’s place on the triad. Assuming the fool is still alive, that is—and capable of performing his duties.”
That comment produced a long moment of silence followed by a sudden stir and the traditional cry of “BLOOD!” from a grizzled veteran. The battle cry was soon echoed by all the rest.
But once the noise died down, Council Leader Sak-Ka was there to sound a cautionary note. “War Commander Ona-Ka is correct . . . Given this news, Uba-Da’s place on the triad will be secure if we fail to take action. But if the Ka clan, or any member of the clan were to assassinate Uba-Da, public sentiment would turn against us. That could cost us the seat we do have.”
Ona-Ka had anticipated such an objection and was ready with an answer. “Council Leader Sak-Ka is correct . . . But, like the Da clan, we have allies, too. And one such relationship has been secret for more than a year now.”
“The Sa clan!” a council member named Ro-Ka said excitedly. “They owe us! And honor binds them.”
“Yes, it does,” Ona-Ka said judiciously. “And you may recall that the Sa clan is home to the Brotherhood of Night Stalkers . . . Which is to say, a group of very skilled assassins.”
“I am satisfied,” Sak-Ka proclaimed. “Let he who objects speak, or this deed will be done.”
There was a moment of silence followed by the cry of “BLOOD!”
—
A HUNDRED AND TWENTY-TWO UNITS
NORTHWEST OF THE CITY OF BLADES
War Commander Ona-Ka was crouched in among a copse of wind-twisted trees. Members of the Sa clan’s Night Stalker battalion were all around him, speaking in low tones and making final preparations for the attack. The sun had set, and it was beginning to snow. Not much, but enough to provide the assassins with some additional cover as they made the perilous journey across a fallow field to attack Triad Uba-Da’s hunting lodge. The low, pie-shaped structure had originally been a family fortress back during the times when every warlord had a stronghold no matter how modest.
But things had changed over hundreds of years, and the round keep, as the locals referred to it, was less of a fort now and more of a fortified home. It still sat atop a hill; the moat had been filled in, and the outermost ring of walls had been allowed to deteriorate.
That said, the Triad’s country estate would still be a difficult objective to take. Airborne drones roved the property, the keep was protected by a twelve-foot-tall inner wall, and Uba-Da employed a force of fifty warriors, all of whom were members of his clan.
Nevertheless, the keep would be easier to deal with than Uba-Da’s castle would have been. So the fact that he was in the country hunting tuskers amounted to a lucky break. And thanks to the advantage of surprise, Ona-Ka believed that the Sa clan’s force of one hundred highly trained warriors would be able to blow a hole in the defensive wall and use it to enter the lodge. Especially since the Da clan had failed to reinforce the keep in the wake of the latest news. That puzzled Ona-Ka, but he was willing to put the mistake down as incompetence.
“We’re ready,” Spear Commander Ra-Sa growled as he appeared next to Ona-Ka. The soldier was shrouded in a cloak made of a high-tech metamaterial that could bend light, heat, and radio waves so that they flowed around objects rather than bouncing off them. That made him more of a presence than a clearly defined form. T
he Night Stalkers weren’t supposed to have access to the top secret cloaks, but, thanks to Ona-Ka, they did.
“Kill him,” Ona-Sa said, “and the debt will be paid. More than that, something will be owed by my clan to yours.”
“So be it,” Ra-Sa agreed, and turned away. There was a soft rustle as the Night Stalkers literally disappeared. Ona-Ka wished that he could go with them and be present for the kill. But that was impossible since any hint of the Ka clan’s involvement might result in the loss of what power they had.
Ona-Ka looked up as he heard the sound of engines, and what might have been an assault boat passed over his head. The running lights were off. A sure sign that the Da clan had finally gotten around to reinforcing the hunting lodge. That last-minute arrival of more defenders was unfortunate—but a handful of warriors wouldn’t make much difference to the Sa. A curtain of snow fell as Ona-Ka picked his way through the trees to the dirt road where his ground car was parked. His job was complete. It was time to return home.
—
THE ROUND KEEP
The assault boat’s engines roared as it dropped through whirling snowflakes to land on the pad inside the complex. They had arrived in time, or so Admiral Dura-Da assumed, since there had been no requests for assistance from Triad Uba-Da’s bodyguards. Dura-Da was still angry regarding the low priority that one of his officers had placed on Admiral Nola-Ba’s dispatch, a decision that could result in disastrous consequences. Perhaps an extended tour of duty on a remote mining world would serve to focus the fool’s mind.
But, given the extra time, why hadn’t there been a response from the Ka clan? One possibility was that they were arguing over what to do. That would be understandable since the magnitude of Nola-Ba’s accomplishment left them with very few choices. They could sit back and watch Uba-Da enjoy the adulation that would be heaped upon him by the public, or they could try to kill him. What then? The citizenry would rise up against the Ka clan, and they would be worse off.
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