“Lord of All,” the sensor chief called. “We have a packer unit on sensors heading towards one of the shuttles. Correction, a full packer squadron, twelve strong.”
Gondral’s mind began to calm and fae reached out. No Gorvian minds registered in that part of space. Could Gondish be blocking me again? Calming, focusing, Gondral reached out again.
There was no response, so Gondral tried again; still nothing.
The rest of Gondish’s flight team had engaged the Dondicks. One Dondick took damage, then another. Gondish had pounced on the leader. They used some form of artificial telepathy to communicate. Gondish tapped into their signals. The advantage allowed Gondish to damage two more Dondicks before, before… pain. A Dondick speared Gondral’s heir from behind. Then the leader, Vaugh, Vaughn, Vaughnt, Blazer, Schan. The Dondick bastard in the mech-suit took Gondish’s head. The unfeeling half-breeder sent the head flying across the surface of the Planet Slicer; affording Gondral one last view of Gondish’s remaining teammates’ deaths.
Gondral jumped to fas feet; roared to the dome high overhead, “GONDISH!!! The heir is dead!!! Find those Dondicks! Destroy them all! Find Gondish’s body, we may yet save my heir still!”
Gondral collapsed back into the throne and looked at the tactic display again. The twelve-packer squadron was almost upon the shuttle fleeing to the aft. TWELVE! Gondral was on fas feet against and stormed over to the sensor chief. “Can you get a clear reading on that shuttle or the packers?”
The smaller Gorvian shook with fear so strong that Gondral could smell it from a klack away. “No Lord of All. They are too near the engine wash. The radiation scrambles all sensors.”
Gondral studied the display again. The shuttle was on a direct course for the jump point near the debris field that had been As’Tril. “Those aren’t packers. Launch interceptors, bring me the head of the one called Vaughnt, Schan “Blazer” Vaughnt.”
“Lord of All,” the sensor chief hissed, as if afraid to speak. “A Dondick strike force has emerged from the old As’Tril jump point. They are on an intercept vector to the shuttle and packer, uh unknown contacts.”
“It matters not! Destroy them all!”
“Lord of All,” the creaking voice of Gondral’s aide called.
“What is it Old Mind?” Gondral roared.
“They have found Gondish,” the elder Gorvian replied. The holographic display near Gondral’s command chair revealed an image of Gondish’s headless body on the surface of the Planet Slicer surrounded by the corpses of his team.
Gondral exploded with a fury-filled rage beyond any fae’d felt before. The emotion drenched the crew and they all took up the same singular focus; avenge High Lord Gondish.
En-route to Rendezvous
Blazer looked at the sensor telemetry. Sure enough, so many Gorvian contacts had launched from the Planet Slicer that sensors couldn’t pick out individual units, the data overflowing the screen with snow.
The head of the larger Gorvian hung in a mesh net on his back; a trophy for the scientists back in the fleet. The Gorvians must be really upset about that one, Blazer mused and turned his attention towards the strike cruiser at the heart of the flotilla. It was the only ship with a hangar that could carry the MeG-CEs. With the whole of the Gorvian horde heading towards them, he didn’t want to wait that long.
“Copy that Blade Lead. This is Savior One, vectoring to intercept. I don’t know what you did to piss them off, but that looks ugly.”
Blazer couldn’t help but agree and watched the squadron release their full ordnance loads towards the Gorvians before vectoring to intercept the team.
UCSB Date 1003.167
Officers’ Mess, UCSBS Mercy, Nimbus System
Marda reveled in the joy around her as the team celebrated their victory. She couldn’t remember the last time the team had seemed this happy, or since they’d had cause to celebrate. It had certainly been before their first engagement with the Gorvian. Even the other officers appeared more upbeat. For the first time in this campaign they’d had a real win, giving the Gorvian something to think about in the process. Officers that came and went congratulated them on their accomplishment. The giant abominations they’d faced no longer seemed invincible; hard to beat sure, but they could be defeated.
Blazer walked in, his hand tucked behind his back. All eyes turned to him and he slammed a bottle down on the table.
“Shit me!” Rudjick exclaimed, looking at the bottle. “Is that Old Number Thirteen Briar Malted?”
Blazer smiled and took his seat, signaling to the nearby server that they needed cups. “The very same.” He peeled at the seal around the cap as the others looked on - even Marda wanted a taste of that liquor. “The Admiral gave me this as a graduation gift. Said we should crack it open after our first successful rescue op.”
Marda elbowed her husband. “We had two before we even graduated.”
“Yes, but this was our first active duty mission. If any op deserves a drink afterwards, it was this one.”
Marda felt her mouth water as Blazer peeled away the rest of the seal and the server set out the glass tumblers before him. Her father had had a bottle of the expensive alcohol that he’d take a single drink of for special occasions. To the best of her knowledge, it had collected dust in his liquor cabinet on Anul still half-full. She’d had one taste of it when she’d started medical school, and again the cycle before she’d left for the academy. It was strong, but oh so good, and filled her with a warmth she could hardly describe.
The sudden pop of the bottle as it opened drew her back into the moment and she watched with eager eyes as Blazer poured a drink for each of them. She handed them out; sliding them down the table. Once they all had a cup, Blazer stood, raising his own. Marda and the rest followed suit, turning their eyes to their leader. “Last cycle we returned home with nineteen of our number that our enemy captured, and laid three more to rest. We faced an enemy we thought unbeatable and escaped with no casualties.”
Rudjick cleared his throat at that. Though none of the team had taken injuries, over half of their MeG-CEs were damaged, three beyond repair. Chris’s damaged arm almost couldn’t keep hold of the Splicer 2000 she’d ridden back to the strike group. Mikle’s suit took a shot that had removed the head when he’d clambered aboard the strike cruiser. A pulse longer and the Gorvians would have been upon them.
“We all made it back alive. And that’s the most important thing to remember,” Blazer continued. “The victory is for all of us. I will see that it serves as th
e turning point in this conflict. To all those who have fallen, we continue on in your name!” Blazer pulled his cup to his lips and drank, the rest of the team following suit.
Marda held the drink in her mouth for a moment and let it trickle down her throat. It burned in that perfect way she remembered. The warmth radiated out from her throat as it seeped down to her stomach, then she felt it spread from there. She rolled her neck in pleasure and turned back to Blazer, smiling. He smiled back and began to refill everyone’s cups. “Don’t waste it all now. Save the rest for when we beat the Gorvians for good.”
Blazer smiled but continued to fill everyone’s cups. “One more. Then we save the rest,” he replied and took his seat.
Chris elbowed Marda as she sat. “Someone’s getting lucky later.”
Marda blushed and turned away from her friend, then beamed back at her. “You could too,” she replied, motioning towards the officers around before she noticed that Gavit was doing his best not to look at Chris. “Maybe even some forbidden fruit,” she said, raising her eyebrows towards their top pilot.
Chris scoffed. “Never going to happen.” She instead raised her glass to a young doctor across the room. “Now him on the other hand.”
Marda looked over. “Nope, that’s Doctor Bowis. His husband would get jealous.”
Chris scoffed. “Only if we don’t let him play too. Speaking of doctors. What’s the status of our survivors?”
Marda sipped at her drink and found the others looking her way as well. “They’re all in recovery,” she announced to a round of happy sighs. “Most of them are going to find themselves heading home. But they’ll live.”
Mikle looked down at his drink: it appeared untouched. “What about the Terran?”
Marda had to think about that for a moment. The Geffer survivor wasn’t in her ward, but in isolation and under heavy guard. “Alive, and recovering. She was in pretty sorry shape; starving and severely dehydrated. She had a cycle at most left when we pulled her out of the rescue pod. She massed maybe eight kilobar.”
Chris whistled. “Skin and bones.”
Marda nodded. “Her organs had started failing, but that’s about all I know.”
Zithe set his cup down, maybe a sip left at the bottom. “I’ve spoken with security. As soon as she’s fit to travel, she’ll be sent to the flagship for debriefing.”
Mikle scoffed and downed his cup in one gulp. “So, she’s still a prisoner.” It wasn’t a question.
Zithe eyed him and shook his head. “No. She is our guest and potentially a valuable source of intelligence. I’m sure that command will treat her well and then negotiate to send her home. Maybe they’ll get some of our people back in the process.”
“We’ll see,” Mikle snapped.
Gokhead swirled the contents of his cup about, letting it breathe. “What happened to that giant Gorvian’s head?”
Blazer smiled and looked back at Zithe. “Sorry Zithe. The intel folks confiscated your trophy. Said they might send you a length of the brain tail skin though.”
Zithe smiled at that. “Tan it. I’ll make a uniform out of it.”
Gavit almost gagged on his drink in response to that. “What? I thought you had taste man. Not even I could make an outfit made of that hide look good.”
“You could come close,” Chris let out and her eyes shot wide. “I mean you would make it look even worse.”
Marda giggled, the drink starting to get to her head. “Whatever. Let’s just hope they can learn something from it.”
“And from those worms Gokhead inserted,” Blazer added. “Have we received anything yet?”
Gokhead shook his head. “As far as I know, nothing. I’m being kept in the dark. Que-Dee and I worked hard on those codes. We should be in the loop.”
“Probably interference from the Planet Slicer being in hyperspace,” Acknit replied. “I doubt we’ll know anything until it returns to normal space.”
Gokhead nodded and took another sip of his drink. “The idea was to find out where it was going first. Prevent another tragedy like As’Tril.”
Arion set a hand on Gokhead’s shoulder. “It will take time for the worm to thread itself into an intraweave that large. You know that and the Planet Slicer was nearly to the jump point when we escaped anyway.”
“Speaking of which,” Rudjick called out, his face flushed. “Did anyone else almost drop a deuce when that big beast started to turn around?”
Marda laughed, looked at the half empty cup in front of the elf. “And Rudjick’s cut off.”
Blazer laughed and raised his empty glass. “Here’s to a mission accomplished, and the hopes that we never have to go back there.”
“Hear hear!” everyone replied.
Marda then hugged Blazer’s arm and leaned in close. “Take me home husband. We have more celebrating to do.”
Grand Hall, Planet Slicer, Hyperspace
Under any other circumstance the scene before Gondral would swell fam with the greatest of pride. Almost all of Gondral’s heirs stood in neat columns down the length of the great hall, those children fae had seeded along with their own progeny, and Gondish’s children, even if they still waited in their mare’s bellies. It was an impressive sight, one that assured Gondral that despite the loss of the prime heir that the bloodline would continue. Still, the loss of the only progeny to show potential as a general class had proved disheartening.
The procession guided Gondish’s body amongst the group within mor sealed life support case. Though they’d never recovered Gondish’s head, the body had remained intact for the most part. Mor suit had sealed any breaches, even the one over the neck. The life support case had kept Gondish’s body alive so that Gondral could use the heir for one final act; impregnation. Perhaps this time the seed would flourish and another general would be born.
“Remember always that the Dondicks did this. Burn into your minds the name Vaughnt. That’s the lower half-being that brought your sibling to this state. Sear that name into every one of your troops, and let it be known the honor that will come to them should they bring me that Dondick’s head.”
Murmurs of consent rang through the crowd and Gondish’s body proceeded towards Gondral. “The Dondick think that they’ve won. They freed the lesser food stock from the prison in sector Q-98, but none of the others. They even had the audacity to kill more of our kind and destroy the holding pens and their contents. We will see to it that such an intrusion will not happen again, so that your progeny might rest easy in the knowledge that the Planet Slicer is beyond impregnable.”
The doors to the Great Hall opened and guards ushered a number of Dondick prisoners down the main aisle. A fat Gerdick, his uniform held together by mere strands, led the procession; looking about at the assembled Gorvians as if in its worst terror dream. “These Dondicks were being made ready for a feast in remembrance of High Lord Gondish’s birth. After the recent intrusion, we discovered a transmitter hidden amongst them.”
Gondral looked down at the dozen assembled Dondicks. Though it twisted and strained fae spoke to them in their tongue. “Know this. Those of your half-being kind came to rescue you; abandoned you to your fate. They took lesser beings in your stead.”
The prisoners exchanged nervous glances. Then the leader stepped forward. “Then they’ve proven that they can get us, and all the rest!” he called, his fist raised.
Gondral wanted nothing more than to crush the impudent creature beneath his foot but instead motioned to the front row of young progeny. Young though they might be, these progenies stood double the size of the Dondicks, and twice their number. “Grandchildren. I offer you the first taste of these. Do your sires and mares proud.”
Gondral sat upon the throne as the Gorvian young descended on the prisoners. The Dondick’s terrors dreams became a reality in that instant. Their screams rang through the great hall as the feral youth tore at them. Blood and entrails splattered the floor, limbs flew away. Young Giltar emerged from the throng, stepping towards G
ondral. Gondral leaned forward as Giltar offered Gondral the Gerdick’s head. “I offer you this one Lord of All. For this is the one who spoke to the Dondick. It called itself Giblin.”
Gondral nodded and accepted the gift. Though Giltar did not show the ability to control yet, fae did show the ability to read minds. That proved hopeful for future generations. “It is a good gift Giltar. Now join your cousins and siblings. Have your fill.”
Gondral leaned back and turned to fas advisor; the head of Tab Giblin impaled on his finger. The Old Mind was the only Gorvian in the chamber not of Gondral’s bloodline. “Has the seed taken root, Old Mind?”
“Aye, Lord of All. We shall monitor it well. This seed will grow strong indeed.”
Gondral turned to the life support casket and Gondish’s headless body. Fae laid a hand on the womb sack. Though it was too small to see at this point, soon it would grow with Gondral’s next Childe. “I have always wondered why we’d never tried this before, passing my seed and ovule into another host.”
“We have tried with artificial wombs before Lord of All.”
“I remember. They never took, but this one, this one shall become my next true heir.”
“Yes, Lord of All.”
Gondral sat back with pride as guards ushered more Dondicks into the grand hall. They had no idea of the fate that awaited them as the rest of Gondral’s line looked upon them with hungry eyes and a cruel smile across fas lips. Gondral waited until they’d reached the center of the chamber, then stood, the prisoners halting in terror. “Honor Great Lord Gondish!” The assembled Gorvians stormed the prisoners, drenching the Great Hall in an orgy of blood and viscera. Gondral merely sat and watched, presiding over the slaughter. Soon, we shall bring such death to the whole of the Galaxy. Gondral flicked the head of the Dondick officer back into the fray; not caring for the taste of the species.
Armageddon's Pall: Spiral War Book 4 Page 14