Rise of the Defiant: Book Two of the Warpmancer Series

by Nicholas Woode-Smith

  BOOK TWO OF THE WARPMANCER SERIES

  By: Nicholas Woode-Smith

  Copyright © 2017

  Warpmancer Series

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publisher and the copyright owner.

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  “Every revolution started as only an idea.” – Gert the Agitator

  Chapter 1. Nexus

  Ice became red as the seas of frost reflected the now rising sun. A perpetual snowstorm did little this day to block the star of Extos III as it illuminated the planet, Nova Zarxa. For a planet so often covered in storms, it was an agreeably momentous occasion.

  James could not know how auspicious this day was. To him, the light was drearier than on Zona Nox. He could not be expected to know that this was a bright day on planet Nova Zarxa. For, only a day ago, he had never even left Red Sand, the desert of his home planet of Zona Nox - a planet which was now dead. As James and the Troopers had been fighting the Xank, a hidden enemy had infiltrated the planet and eradicated all methods of sustaining life. The Imperials had blighted Zona Nox and James knew that he would make them pay.

  ‘We’re approaching Nexus, Grag-Tec starport,’ a voice came over the intercom. ‘Please prepare for landing.’

  The voice was that of Marshal Rekkie, a veteran and war hero whom James greatly respected. It was under a week since they had met, but it seemed like years already. Fighting side by side tended to do that. No bonds were like battle bonds. What started as merely a deal born of necessity had built a relationship between them that would be hard to break. James at least hoped so.

  The ship they flew was human in design, but its origin was not. They had flown the Jameson-I Cruiser from a Xank Lectorate ship, the orbiting headquarters of none other than one of the leaders that James had previously sought to defeat. After being captured and shown the truth, his goals had changed. The Word Lector, the head of research and development in the Empire was, in fact, a human exile.

  Aven Smith had joined the Xank to seek vengeance against the Imperial Council. Under his new leaders, he had turned a blind eye to the slaughter of his race and even committed his own atrocities. But he had sworn allegiance to James!

  James still didn’t know what to think of Aven’s and the Immortal, Krag-Zot’s, pledge of allegiance. The latter had been aiming to kill him only minutes before declaring his undying loyalty. Some cultures are highly odd, James noted.

  What James did know was that it would be a long while before he could rest easily again. His homeworld was dead and the culprits still lived. By his honour, integrity and, maybe, mostly anger, he would not rest until they were put to justice.

  The Jameson-I moved at a much slower pace after entering the atmosphere of Nova Zarxa. Air resistance and adverse weather contributed to a much more sluggish pace as the ship droned towards the docking bay. Even with the icy squalls and potential for turbulence, the ship was still a calmer ride than that of the X-Series ships on Zona Nox. James did not expect that the landing would be harsh enough to warrant buckling himself to the walls or seats of the ship.

  Through the light fog and snow, Nexus appeared. While it seemed most of the planet was mere icy tundra, Nexus proved to be a jewel in desolation. A sprawling mass of metallic towers stood ahead of the ship. They rose higher than any tower that was ever constructed in Galis, some of them even rising past the clouds. Connecting the monoliths were a web of connecting tunnels and bridges. Between these were glass domes, revealing idyllic greens within. But James knew that every window and hole was sealed. The air outside was toxic. Beautiful, a shining jewel. Nexus was a diamond in a sea of coal.

  The ship began to slow as they approached one of the wider towers. Even now, James could see a thoroughfare of smaller ships passing in and out of a glowing opening on the side of the structure. A gravity beam caught them as Marshal signalled that they wished to land. Their speed slowed to a Mozar’s pace as they were pulled in by the docking mechanism. James continued to stare out the window of the Jameson-I, when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He turned to see the large broad figure of Ryan.

  The ex-gangster stood high above that of James, his shoulders were also broader, framing a set of hard muscle. The brawler was as tough as rocks and James was happy that they were friends. Who could think that he would have come this far with ‘Racist Ryan’ by his side?

  ‘I used to think I’d never make it here…that I would die back on Zona Nox in some fight with a junkie. That was all I was good for there, anyway,’ Ryan sighed. ‘Nova Zarxa. In all my life, never thought I’d make it here. Maybe my fate has changed.’

  ‘There is still plenty fighting to do,’ James replied.

  Ryan seemed to sadden. ‘Yes…of course. I’ll still die in a fight, just not at home.’

  The ship stopped with a sharp jolt as the gravity beam released them onto the platform. Ryan left without a word, heading to the luggage.

  Through the door which he disappeared came two non-humans, Quok the Exanoid and Molok the Gray. They were the unlikely members of James’ crew. Back on the X51, where James had been forced to choose those who could survive Red Sand after the ship inevitably crashed, he had chosen Quok purely to gain the strength of Molok. Grays were usually weak creatures suitable for labour only due to their discipline and weak will, an odd combination of traits which created a work force which had become more common than that of machinery on the frontier of space. Molok was an oddity for a Gray. He was agile and strong.

  Quok was an Exanoid, a race of businessmen and intellectuals. They were not known for their military prowess, besides the uses of their orbital air fighters and army of robotic Syns. He was an odd choice but, either due to sentimentality or an effort to gain Molok’s favour, James had chosen to bring the Grag-Tec official along.

  Now, as they prepared to disembark the Jameson-I into a Grag-Tec station, James was thankful for his choice.

  ‘Captain James,’ Quok called, walking casually towards James with Molok in tow, wearing a toothy grin. ‘I wish to thank you for your companionship and choosing us to come on this journey. It has been an enlightening one which will stay with me for quite some time.’

  The Exanoid sounded cheerful, and a little carefree. There was no hint of any sign that so many of their allies had died on this escapade and that it had all ended with the death of James’ homeworld. Quok was the personification of bliss, when he desired.

  Quok nodded his head and continued through the exit of the Jameson-I. To James’ surprise, Molok did not follow immediately but instead hung back until Quok was through the doorway. He then walked to James and spoke, an action very unlike him.

  ‘James-Po, I am not one for words, so I will make this quick. As you may have guessed, Quok is very important to me. Like a brother and father. Even though he may seem naïve, he knows very well what is going on. I also wish to extend my thanks to you for allowing him to live. He was not the logical choice back on the X51, but I appreciate it nonetheless. You have earned my respect.’

  Molok ended with a bow and left, following his c
harge.

  James was still recovering from the shock of hearing the near-mute speak. He almost didn’t notice the survivors of his crew leaving the ship until Marshal came up to him.

  Marshal was a man of the elements. He had lived most of his life under the blazing sun and his skin showed it. It was dark and leathery, but the muscle underneath was still useful. Marshal was a strong man and, in some circles, even a hero.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he looked concerned.

  ‘As much as I can be,’ James attempted a smile. ‘Let’s go.’

  The scene outside the Jameson-I was a sight similar yet not to the Galis starport. Cargo containers rested between ships lodged in deactivated gravity wells. Some ships were being repaired, while others were taking off and landing. Guards overlooked all of this, making sure to keep out troublemakers. It was very much like Galis, but everything was wrong. Instead of rusty, dark metal, there was, instead, light coloured geradite; instead of Troopers, there were Vacaraptor and Merka guards. This was not Galis, but seemed to rather be a distorted mirror image of James’ home.

  Ahead of Marshal and James were a cluster of James’ allies. Quok and Molok stood to one side, speaking with a well-dressed Gray holding a tablet computer. A little bit further away was Ryan, clutching his Galisian Magnum in his hand and arguing with a Merka guard.

  ‘Skite! What has he got himself into?’

  They walked speedily towards the confrontation where they could now hear the source of the argument. Ryan was making a huge scene, speaking loudly and waving his .45 around.

  ‘What the hell do you mean license? I’ve got rights! I can carry this thing with me wherever I damn well please!’

  ‘Sir, I cannot allow you to continue into the facility with an unlicensed firearm. Governor Dedelux’s orders. I will have to confiscate it. Please do not resist,’ the Merka guard desperately tried to reason, sweat dripping down his sloped forehead.

  Merka were close relatives to the Exanoids. They possessed similar facial features but. instead of a bent spine, they tended to be more hunched, with stouter necks. They were the stronger, more military prone. of the two-races. If Exanoids were pig-men, then Merka were boar-men. Even then, Ryan was taller and more muscle-bound than this guard.

  ‘I will damn well resist!’

  Before Ryan could do anything to force the issue, Quok appeared between the two.

  ‘What do we have here? Yurlgaj, what do you have against my apprentice?’

  The Merka saluted. ‘Welcome back to Nexus, Overseer Quok. I was informing the human of the Trooper Governor’s policy on firearms. No unlicensed weapons in the city. Only Troopers and Corporate guards are to carry weapons.’

  ‘Then I see no problem,’ Quok smiled, ‘Ines Rebeck is my guard, alongside Molok-Po. He carries his firearm by my orders.’

  ‘What about the rest?’ the guard indicated Leroy and Grugo, who were both carrying multiple weapons slung over their backs and fronts. ‘The other three are Troopers, but these two are civilians.’

  ‘Also guards. You must have heard about what happened on Zona Nox, right? These were my escorts.’

  ‘Ah, then everything is completely fine. Good day, Overseer.’ He glanced at Ryan, ‘Good day, Ines.’

  The Merka walked off in a dignified manner, stopping only to investigate a shipment of meat being carried by a human lady with tattooed arms.

  The guard now out of earshot, Quok spoke to the group. ‘It has been awhile since I was here on Nexus, so my grasp on local politics is limited. I will try my best to protect all of you, using Grag-Tec’s resources if necessary, but I do implore that you exercise extra caution. This isn’t Zona Nox and this isn’t Galis. Those who fight the law here tend to lose.’

  A few of them nodded.

  ‘I will organise accommodation for all of you. If you would follow me…’

  James picked up his luggage, a case containing his rifle and supplies, and followed. Quok kept a steady pace, one which would seem brisk for an Exanoid but leisurely for a human. It was not that long before they exited the vast hall of the starport and entered a hallway crafted of geradite and glass.

  The hallway was large, allowing space for a crowd or vehicle much larger than James’ group. Their footsteps and voices echoed, rising above the sound of the industry in the starport.

  A few conversed, but James kept silent. His brooding did not attract social interaction. Quok seemed to be busy talking Marshal’s ear off. The veteran appeared interested, but James suspected that that was mere etiquette. Only Ryan seemed genuinely absorbed, as he edged ever closer to the two.

  James hung back, an action he noted was particularly uncharacteristic of a leader. A small part of him worried about that, but that feeling was overwhelmed by a pulsating force emanating from beneath him. No one else seemed to notice the almost elemental pull from below, suggesting that only James felt it. It was like a magnet was attempting to tug him downward. Almost unconsciously, he stumbled towards the railing and looked down. A deep blue glow assaulted his vision. Like sunlight, the ground all but blinded him. As his vision adjusted, the light faded and revealed itself to be a sea of crystals.

  He felt an energy reaching up from that sea, a familiar grasp of desire and domination. The Warp. Without thought, James put out his hand, grasping at the invisible force. The glass blocked him, but did not abate his instinctual urge to claim that magnificent power. Yet he felt nothing. No power surged into him. It was as if he was drinking from an empty bottle. Desperately, he attempted to siphon the energy. Not an iota passed through the glass.

  A hand touched him on the shoulder and he jumped as his trance was broken. Marshal looked at him, visible concern crossing his face.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  James clutched his head, the beginnings of a headache starting to emerge. Rubbing his temples, he replied.

  ‘Just feeling a little nauseous. Will be alright in a few.’

  ‘You need to rest. Let’s hurry. I don’t feel like getting lost in this maze.’

  James nodded in agreement and they continued.

  The Grag-Tec offices held almost no similarities to those of Galis. While the few office blocks in Galis may have been somewhat stylish in comparison with the rest of the city, they were put to shame by the overwhelming professional luxury of the Grag-Tec facility.

  Silver metallic surfaces coated the entire expanse of the Grag-Tec entry hall. Fine green leather upholstery decorated every bit of seating and an extravagant marble fountain dominated the centre. What was the largest difference of them all, however, was the fact that James’ crew were the only humans in what seemed the entire complex. They towered over the residents, who ranged from the milky Grays to the bow-legged Exanoids and their stockier Merka cousins. James even spotted some insectoid creatures that he did not recognize.

  ‘Are there any humans in Grag-Tec?’ James asked.

  ‘Occasionally,’ Quok replied, ‘Grag-Tec is meant to be a primarily Gray and Exanoid-run corporation. The treaties after the Glotos III uprising made that a top priority. Grag-Po wanted it that way, so we respect it to this day.’

  As they walked through the bustling hall, many stopped to greet Quok and enquire about his journey. He answered in a myriad of languages, even emanating a clicking sound to answer the insect creatures. This multilingualism astounded James, who could only speak colloquial human.

  Among the usual smartly dressed Exanoids were much rarer well turned-out Grays. The aliens were stereotyped system wide as labourers and tribals, so it was not often that they were seen wearing formal clothing. Many carried handheld computers and were hastily typing away, speaking to each other in what seemed to be a mix of Eral’a and native Gray.

  As they walked, even more stopped to greet Quok, and even Molok, the latter of whom tended to ignore most advances.

  Eventually, they arrived in a circular room. The walls were a white chemical steel called Flensteel. On a planet devoid of metal, Zarxians had to make do with synthetic
substitutes. Geradite and Flensteel seemed to be the most popular. The centre of the room was dominated by a large reception desk, manned by a female Exanoid who was busy answering a call on her wireless headset.

  Upon spotting the group, the receptionist hung up her call and stood up.

  ‘Overseer Quok, I did not think that you survived the Xank attack. I am glad to see that you are safe.’

  She bowed in an odd Exanoid-ish fashion. Quok smiled and replied.

  ‘I wouldn’t be here if it was not for James and his companions. They are without accommodation here on Nova Zarxa, so will you do me a favour and find them an apartment?’

  ‘Certainly, Overseer.’

  She sat down and began banging some keys on a holographic keyboard

  ‘There are two large apartments available in Residency B-2. Should I call for some attendants to help with luggage?’

  ‘That will not be needed, thank you,’ Marshal butted in.

  Quok allowed the veteran to make the decision, nodding when the secretary turned to him for approval.

  ‘Here are your key cards,’ she smiled a toothy, trained smile. ‘I hope you enjoy your stay with Grag-Tec.’

  James and Marshal accepted the palm-sized metallic disks. The receptionist stood up once again and bowed.

  ‘Welcome to Nova Zarxa.’

  “By the mid-36th century of the Old Terran calendar, humanity had to make a choice. They could forget and prosper, or remember and risk annihilation. It would have been a simple choice, if justice ever was.” – Extract from Archivist, Lenda Smitt’s, personal memoirs

  Chapter 2. Choice

  James awoke to the sound of alien pop music and the sight of the artificial sunroof of his apartment. He was sharing the abode with Sgt Yobu and Marshal, while Leroy, Ryan and Grugo stayed in the other apartment. The Grag-Tec residencies were not only for guests and employees, James found out, but also for anyone who could pay rent. Thus, they found themselves neighbouring a quite raucous and newly married Exanoid couple. Their personalities were quite disconcerting as the only ones of their kind on Zona Nox had been quite sedate.