by A. L. Bruno
“The man responsible was not content to merely cut down my blood in her prime,” the Kionel continued, his voice hardening. “He lashed out at everyone around him, gravely injuring both Garash Jagrav, the senior guard assigned to her, and the Terran, Commander Jason Roberts.”
The screen dissolved to amateur footage of Nightingale plummeting to the surface, its Vealé drives snuffing out the Nadala Somfar pyre as it dropped. Marines burst out from its bay, weapons ready, their powered armor’s adaptive camouflage plating shifting in watercolor strokes as it adjusted to its surroundings.
“With one of their own injured, the Terrans did as I would have done, and sent a team to retrieve him.” The video cut to Adelisa on an antigrav stretcher as it slid haphazardly over the cobblestone and rubble left from the festival. “But when they saw how badly my granddaughter had been injured, they chose to help her as well.”
The Kionel’s face reappeared, and he leaned towards the camera, his visage resolute in a way Roberts found all too familiar.
“Many amongst us railed at this act. How could they so callously abduct one of our own?” The Kionel straightened. “But I can assure you now that our fears were misplaced.”
The screen shifted to reveal a short, dark-skinned doctor wearing a bloodied surgical gown.
“This is Doctor Ketra Alam of the Saranatari Medical Clinic,” the Kionel continued. “It was he, not the Terrans, who insisted that my granddaughter be brought to their vessel. He knew that the wounds she had received were beyond his ability to help, and it was he who begged the Terrans to save her.”
Adelisa stirred, the movement so slight as to be nearly indiscernible. She said nothing, her eyes locked on the images floating in the air in front of her, but barely perceptibly, Roberts noticed her hands trembling.
The camera switched back to the Kionel. “The Terrans did not kidnap my granddaughter,” he said, his tone hard. “They worked to save her.”
Adelisa turned to Roberts, frowning. “What does he mean by that?”
The Kionel spoke again, saving Roberts the embarrassment of an answer.
“More than that,” the Kionel continued, his voice darkening. “They were willing to sacrifice their own lives to save her.”
Roberts blanched. Sacrifice?
Everything came back to him in a rush, the memory flooding over him like water bursting from a dam. The strike, the panic, the blade coming up…
... and I dove under it, he remembered. A tremor passed through him, his spine alighting in protest, but he barely noticed. I took the blow for her.
The scene shifted, and yet another amateur video filled their view. Shaky, and shot from a distant rooftop, Roberts barely paid it any mind. Conrad, Adelisa, and Boothe leaned forward, however, their attention locked to the images on display.
Adelisa winced when the video showed the blade slice into her stomach. She stepped back, her hand reaching behind her until she grasped Roberts’ arm. He flinched at the touch, his nerves still knitting, but said nothing.
The madman raised his blade again, prepared to strike, and Roberts saw himself dive in its way.
The reaction of the bridge crew would normally have provoked a harsh rebuke from the officer of the watch, but none came. There was a collective gasp, followed by astonished looks towards Roberts. It was when he noticed the stares of both Conrad and his captain that Roberts suddenly wished to be anywhere else.
“This man, this stranger from another world, stood between my granddaughter and death,” the Kionel continued, the video fading back to the palace’s media room. “If there was any question as to whether we could trust Commander Roberts, this moment answers it.” The Kionel leaned towards the camera, his expression powerful. “He was willing to give up his own life to protect one of my own, and that is something I will not soon forget.”
Adelisa turned to Roberts, her eyes welling with tears. She squeezed her hand against his arm and offered a grateful nod in his direction.
“And now we wait,” the Kionel said. “We wait for word of their wounds, their recovery, and—should the fortunes will it—the return of my granddaughter and the man who tried to save her life.”
Adelisa frowned, her hand pulling back, as she turned to the holotank, confused.
Roberts watched Boothe steadily. She matched his look momentarily, but then to his wonder, she turned away.
“I ask all of you now to reach out to that which fills you, that which binds us to our fellow man, to ask for their safe return. Even more than the people in the spaceship above, their recovery is in the hands of a power greater than us all. All we can do is await their blessing.”
Adelisa looked back at him, her eyes aflame. But when she saw the set of Roberts’ jaw, the temper painted across his own features, she was taken aback.
“To Commander Roberts, I say this,” the Kionel continued.
Roberts stared up into the face of the man who had challenged him from the moment he’d arrived on the world below and he waited, transfixed.
“Hurry back to us, Commander,” the Kionel said. “You and I still have much work to do.”
Roberts blinked rapidly against the tears that suddenly filled his eyes.
“So, my people, remember we are all one,” the Kionel intoned, his expression that of a father before his children. “From the darkness we came, and to the darkness we shall return. It is up to each of us to find the light along the way. Good day, good night, and may each of us find our rebirth during this Nadala Somfar.”
The transmission faded away, leaving the bridge once again lit only by the primary colors of its displays.
For a moment, there was silence on the bridge. Finally, Adelisa turned her fury on Captain Boothe.
“Why doesn’t he know of our condition?” Adelisa asked, her voice steel.
Boothe just shrank in front of her.
38
T.S.S. Hyperion
Bay One
24 December 2356
07:28
“Don’t be nervous,” Roberts heard Doc Nesheim say to Adelisa as they made their way towards Nightingale’s cargo door entrance. The doctor’s wristcom translated her words adeptly, and Adelisa waited patiently for it to complete.
“Easy for you to say,” Adelisa replied. “You’ve done this before.”
“So have you,” Nesheim reminded her. “You just don’t remember it.”
The hour after the Kionel’s speech had flashed by in a frantic blur. Within minutes Boothe had once again interrupted the world’s networks, eager to report that both their Adishta and Commander Roberts were alive and well. She praised the Kionel’s wisdom and thanked the people below for their patience. Then, just as Boothe moved to close her statement, Adelisa stepped forward, her head held high.
“We will be returning to you right away,” Adelisa had said, pointedly ignoring Boothe’s shock at the interruption, “thanks to the diligent work of Hyperion’s medical staff, for which I am deeply grateful.” She smiled beatifically. “I look forward to seeing all of you shortly, and I’m anxious to share the perspective that this perch high above our world has granted me.” She bowed then, and Conrad had ordered the transmission cut.
“Adishta Adelisa—” Boothe had started. Adelisa didn’t allow her to finish.
“My words are for Commander Roberts,” Adelisa hissed, whirling around and leaning in so closely to Boothe that the captain reflexively shrunk away. “No one else!” With that she had marched out of the bridge, grabbing Roberts by the arm and dragging him towards the hatchway.
Boothe had avoided both Adelisa and Roberts since, hovering back while her crew prepped for their VIP drop. Eventually they had reached the docking bay, the remains of Adelisa’s bloodstained clothes packed neatly in a travel duffel, ready to return to the surface.
“You got lucky, Commander.” Roberts had not heard his captain approach. He didn’t bother to face her. Instead, he focused on Doc Nesheim chatting with Adelisa, easing her nerves about the upcoming drop.
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“I know,” Roberts eventually conceded. “But it comes with the job.” He turned and locked eyes with Boothe, unflinching. “With all due respect, what the hell were you thinking?”
“I had a call to make, Commander,” Boothe muttered. “And given the same circumstances I’d do it again.”
She’s afraid, Roberts realized. Shame washed across him and he softened. She nearly lost me and the mission.
“They’re not the Motinai,” Roberts replied, his tone softening. “You have to learn to trust them if you expect them to trust us.”
“They tried to kill you, Commander,” Boothe seethed.
“No, they tried to kill her,” Roberts replied, nodding towards Adelisa. “I just got in the way.”
Boothe didn’t reply. She stood ramrod straight by his side, her gaze fixed on the Phelspharian woman staring awestruck up at Nightingale as the boat moaned to life. “They’re a tough people to know,” Roberts continued, “but they’re honorable. They’re worth the effort.” It was only after he had spoken that Roberts realized that those words were as much for him as for his captain.
“Their honorable commandant came a hair’s breadth from declaring war on us,” Boothe reminded him.
“And you landed marines to recover me,” Roberts retorted. “Neither of us are blameless.”
Boothe shot him another icy look, but it softened quickly. “Get me my base, Commander,” she ordered.
“Aye, ma’am,” Roberts replied.
Boothe didn’t hear his response. She’d already turned on her heel and strode aft towards the bridge, focused on saving a world against the monsters crawling out of the darkness.
Roberts sighed. He watched as Doc Nesheim helped Adelisa up the ramp into Nightingale and he smiled. She’s alive, he thought. And we made that happen. Images of the Motinai waging war interrupted his reflection and his face fell. One down, he thought, three billion to go.
“You still think you know better than command staff,” Conrad called from behind Roberts.
Roberts turned, happy for the interruption, and offered a halfhearted smile to his exec. “Yep,” he replied, “I do.”
Conrad smiled. “You might be right this time.” He smacked Roberts’ bad shoulder with a friendly pat. “Stay safe.”
Roberts nodded appreciatively, his shoulder stinging from the touch, and climbed aboard Nightingale, ready to return to the surface.
The ride down was rougher than Roberts would have liked. The weather must have been brutal for the pilot to dial back the internal inertial dampers. Not only did the occasional roll of turbulence make his spine scream, but Adelisa’s alarm made her clutch his hand so tightly that he lost feeling in his fingers.
“Is it always this way?” Adelisa asked as Nightingale plummeted through a towering cumulonimbus cloud.
“No,” Roberts answered, smiling. He did everything in his power to ignore the way his entire body ached with each jolt of the deck. “Usually it’s worse.”
The ship rolled abruptly, knocking Adelisa’s head onto his shoulder. She pulled away immediately, embarrassed. Roberts turned away as well, though he used the tiny bit of privacy the moment allowed to grimace against the pain. “The nanos will be done in about three days,” Doc Nesheim had told him. “Just try to rest up as much as you can until then.” As Nightingale rattled around him, her Vealé drives straining against the thunderstorm raging around them, Roberts sincerely hoped that she was right.
Then, abruptly, Nightingale burst through the storm, the sun blasting into the cabin like a spotlight, and the ride smoothed out.
Adelisa took his hand again, and gently squeezed it.
Roberts looked over, curious.
“Thank you,” Adelisa said. She looked away, her hand still on his. Then turned back, took a deep breath, and continued. “I misjudged you.”
“Right back at you,” Roberts replied. He squeezed her hand in return, and was surprised to see how beautiful a genuine smile looked on her face.
“Terminal Approach,” the pilot’s voice spit out from the cabin’s speakers. “Looks like you folks have a helluva greeting party.”
Adelisa pulled away, mildly flustered, and Roberts coughed nervously. He leaned forward in his seat as far as his back would allow and looked towards the cockpit. “What do you mean?” he called forward.
“You’ll see,” the pilot replied, chuckling. The Vealé drives whined, there was the slightest sensation of deceleration, then Nightingale settled to the ground, her powerplant winding down in relief.
Adelisa stood the moment the systems quieted, and moved towards the hatch, excited. Roberts rose to his feet slowly, carefully removing his five-point harness, and followed. We probably ruined the rest of the lawn, Roberts thought. Guess we’ll have to send Colony Ops down to clean it up.
The cargo hatch seal squealed open with an ear-popping sigh as the doors slid open and upwards. Fresh air flooded the cabin and Roberts realized with a start that the pilot had not landed on the Kionel’s lawn.
Music blasted into Nightingale’s cramped cabin, and Adelisa and Roberts startled almost in unison. The hatch whined to a stop, revealing the Kionel’s parade ground; a formation of the Kionel’s Elite Guardsmen resplendent in their sharpest uniforms, standing at attention.
“Avindair,” Adelisa sighed quietly. “What have you done?”
Roberts chuckled, but the movement jostled his spine and he grimaced. He grunted and turned to Adelisa.
“After you, Adishta,” Roberts said, gesturing forward.
Adelisa turned back to him, chin raised, and smiled.
“No,” Adelisa replied. “Together.”
Roberts nodded, taken aback at the sudden swell of emotion in his chest. He turned to the hatch and they stepped out, shoulder to shoulder, and faced the waiting crowd outside.
A roar went up the moment they both reached the asphalt of the parade grounds. Roberts looked around, stunned, his eyes falling on a massive crowd gathered around the periphery of the palace. Music filled the air, balloons burst upward, and the guardsmen snapped to attention, their boots echoing with a solid crack against the pavement.
“Helluva a lot friendlier than the first time,” Roberts mused.
“Show up unannounced and you don’t get snacks,” Adelisa snarked. Roberts laughed, but winced, his back flaring again.
Adelisa turned to him concerned. She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but instead, her demeanor abruptly shifted. She straightened, her head held high, and turned back to face the crowd. Within the space of a breath the woman with whom he’d descended from space vanished, and the Adishta of the Kionelaite stood in her place.
Avindair strode towards them, his dress uniform an uncharacteristic mess. Like the officers aboard Hyperion, he looked awful, his eyes betraying sleepless nights. Yet the moment he laid eyes on Adelisa he brightened, a warm flush filling his cheeks.
“Adishta,” Avindair said, bowing his head reverentially. The commandant’s voice was thick with relief.
“Commandant,” Adelisa replied. She stepped forward, one hand raised, and Avindair instinctively took it. The moment his skin touched hers the crowd burst into a cheer, and a new round of marching music blasted across the parade ground. The couple strolled forward, the guardsmen parting with clockwork precision as they moved, all while the crowd cheered the return of their Adishta.
He’s besotted by her, Roberts thought. He chuckled to himself. For the first time I think I understand why.
A rush of movement caught his eye. A figure dashed in between the guardsmen standing at attention; its lithe form moving almost impossibly quickly. Roberts tensed. I don’t know if I have another life left to give for these people, he thought. He braced himself, ready for an assault...
... and suddenly Nashita burst out from the group of guardsmen, her body bent forward in a full run. She was on him in an instant, her arms folding around his body with eager speed. The H’Tanzian woman squeezed with all her might as Roberts gasped,
pain exploding down his spine. Finally, she pulled back, grabbed his face in both of her hands, and kissed him.
Roberts wished he could say that he didn’t hear the crowd cheer at that moment; that he was lost in the sweetness of her lips and the passion of her embrace, but that would have been a lie. All he could feel was the seismic shock of pain, and the way his knees shook at the size of the crowd surrounding him.
Nashita pulled away, grinning, her face covered with tears.
“It’s good to see you,” she finally said, her words moving just past a sob. She folded into him, her head resting on his chest, and the crowd roared their approval.
“Thanks,” Roberts replied, watching as Avindair led Adelisa along the alabaster steps to the palace. “It’s good to be seen.”
Preview: “On Quiet Fire”
Enjoy this excerpt from On Quiet Fire: Book II of the Star Lion Saga,
It all began with Conrad’s court martial.
The Battle of HIP 72940 began as a meticulously planned surgical strike and ended as an unmitigated public relations disaster. Motinai forces had established a paxanite mine on Eris, one of the triple-star system’s Jovian moons, and TSF intel had demanded that it either be captured or destroyed. Paxanite was always in demand. “No paxanite, no faster than the speed of light” as the old academy saw went. So, the Terran Star Force decided to pursue the former.
The battleplan was straightforward. Sweep in with a task force, neutralize the Motinai’s planetary defense emplacements, then land armored strike teams to “liberate” the facilities on Eris. It had all looked solid in the simulations, and with most of the crew being seasoned veterans, confidence was high.
Then the task force arrived above Eris and everything went to hell.
Firstly, Terran intelligence had massively underestimated the size of Eris’ planetary defenses. Secondly, a Motinai combat fleet had waited, carefully hidden behind another nearby Jovian moon, their reactor and T-space signatures masked by its considerable radiation. Finally, the Motinai waited for the Terran task force to lower itself deep into Eris’ gravity well before they attacked. In the space of mere minutes, the Terrans had found themselves backed into an orbital corner with a nimbler force firing everything it had from high above.