by C. C. Ekeke
“Sssorry,” Honaa’s rasp was contrite. His tail slowly swished back and forth with worry. “Perhapsss you wouldn’t have ended up like thisss, if I hadn’t lossst my edge...”
“I’ll live,” Habraum wheezed out. He was glad to be the one to kill Maelstrom, despite how much pain he had endured. Suddenly the room shuddered even more violently, like a large-scale landquake was in the room. That snapped Honaa back to his usual proficient demeanor. “Your persssonal transssmatter isss fried, but mine still worksss. But we’ll have to pass the same four places we firssst transssmatted through.” Without another word, Honaa activated his personal transmatter and the ruined control room shimmered away into white nothingness. The whiteness split into individual, glowing bars, the Amalgam’s power core. All around Habraum and Honaa, the towering columns sported extensive fractures, clearly about to collapse. Atop Honaa’s shoulders Habraum spied the small figures of Korvenites far below running and screaming in terror.
No sooner than the Brigadiers fully materialized, then Honaa activated the transmatter again. The tumbling columns coalesced into blankness before Habraum’s eyes. The pipe-like tunnel they transmatted into before reappeared. A gaping hole in the pipe revealed what was left of the Unilink apparatus, the Korvenites it held lying unconscious or dead. There was no time to analyze, as Honaa jabbed at his transmatter again. The ruined Unilink faded into white nothingness.
The two appeared back in the vast launch hangar where they started on the Amalgam. This whole rapid transmatting process left Habraum quite nauseous, compounded with his current injuries. Through the red dots dancing in front of his eyes, he was vaguely aware that they weren’t alone, but clearly the Korvenites fleeing for their lives as the station collapsed around them had bigger concerns.
Honaa swore. “My transssmatter’ss ruined. I can’t get usss to the skiff,” he angrily slapped the transmatter on his belt.
“Don’t bother,” Habraum said, surprised at the croak that came out instead of his voice. He really felt sick now. “I ordered Maggie to get the Chouncilor to the surface, so the skiff’s probably not here.” Aside from sickness, Habraum faintly felt something else that sent chills up the back of his neck.
Honaa glanced at Habraum and then made his way forward to the least damaged area of the hangar bay. Several small ships lay before them. “Ssshouldn’t be a problem. We can take one of these—.”
You killed Korvan’s Anointed. It was as if a thousand amplified cries went off in Habraum’s head. Flashes of faces, a tidal wave of overwhelming grief and sorrow thundering. He gritted his teeth. Honaa’s needle-like teeth came into view as he roared in pain. The Rothorid slumped to the ground and Habraum went down with him.
The Cerc groaned at landing on his ribs again, but quickly forgot that particular pain. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t move, his mind pounded relentlessly by an untold number of vengeful Korvenites.
You killed our one link to Korvan, the unified voice boomed again. You will die for that.
Habraum saw the feet of countless Korvenites approaching him and Honaa. Looking up he saw their faces—some male, some female, some elderly, some no older than 10 years—all so full of hate. They hammered him and Honaa with wave upon wave of telepathic pain beyond anything Habraum ever experienced. He was fading, this time for good. The Cerc dared a glance at Honaa, who also laid spasming wildly on the ground.
Then it stopped. Habraum, still so dazed,was just thankful it had ended. Until his vision cleared and he saw why.
A massive red and orange explosion had ripped through the hangar—undoubtedly from the outside assault on the Amalgam. The churning, fiery swell devoured everything in its path. Most of the Korvenites went flying right before their flesh got roasted. Others tried running, only to be shredded apart by flying debris. The few Korvenites with unwavering faith in Korvan stood still, chanting praises in Korcei—even as the flames incinerated them whole.
The explosion shredded through the metal flooring and the walls, roiling toward Habraum and Honaa. But the Cerc could barely lift his arm, let alone drag Honaa out of there. He felt something snake around his waist—Honaa’s tail! The Cerc yelped, his injured ribs screaming. Habraum was lifted into the air and his whole body began tingling. He saw Honaa’s somber face below him.
“Lead them well.” And the Rothorid tossed Habraum with his tail at the hangar bay wall.
The Cerc went sailing backwards, right before the flames reached Honaa and consumed him completely. Before Habraum could properly react, he phased through the hangar bay wall, a strangely disembodying experience. Moments later he was outside of the Amalgam, flailing helplessly in mid-air. He saw the Amalgam’s damaged hull shimmering with white-hot heat, crumbling at the seams, right before a massive eruption ripped the entire station asunder. The initial shockwave knocked Habraum clear of propelled debris, and he plummeted through the smoggy clouds.
The only image in his brain was that last look on Honaa’s face, as the ruined face of Conuropolis grew closer by the instant. Chunks of smoldering shrapnel shot down past him, a hailstorm of fire and metal. The injured Cerc sailed downward, picking up more speed, his thoughts drifted toward Jeremy. Who will take care of him now?
He could actually recognize some former buildings now, jutting closer. One would probably impale him. Habraum closed his eyes, filled his head with thoughts of Jennica. Not the image perverted by Maelstrom, but the beautiful wife he had loved…and lost. She was waiting.
“I’m coming, Jenn,” he whispered, right before his plunge slowed to a hover. Familiar arms were wrapped around Habraum’s torso, unnatural heat rolling off his mysterious savior.
“Gotcha,” a smoky voice whispered in his ear. Habraum opened his eyes to see Sam holding him, wearing a lopsided grins. She looked weary, but seeing her safe was a blessing from the Twins.
“Use a shuttle next time, flyboy,” she beamed at him. Sam floated them away from the main downpour of flaming debris, as some started streaking too close for comfort.
“The skiff took too much damage from the roundtrip, so I had to rescue you the hard way,” she gazed back at Habraum, continuing their slow descent. “Where’s Irazu?”
Hearing the codename, Habraum felt an anguish sharper than any injury he had sustained. Suddenly, Honaa’s death felt real. He said nothing, just looking at Sam in silence. Sam’s eyes widened and she shook her head ever so slightly. “No. No—.”
“Samantha,” Habraum said hoarsely. “He’s gone.” Sam’s face crumpled, further breaking his heart. She buried her face into the Cerc’s chest and floated them down at a steady pace in silence. Sam never sobbed or shed one tear, only holding onto Habraum even tighter.
He looked up, watching the AeroFleet warships disperse, some of the smaller ships began blasting away at larger shrapnel hurtling down to the surface. Then he watched the mammoth Imperial Star Navy warships with their spiky frames, pulling up into the smoke-stained billows and disappearing.
Spots swam in front of his vision. Habraum felt woozy; a combination of the high atmosphere and the heat that Sam generated. “Um…Samantha? I don’t feel so….” He never made it to good.
The next thing Habraum knew, he was on his back, lying on solid ground with Sam kneeling at his side cradling his head. “Braum, wake up!” She was shaking him roughly and pain shot up his chest.
“Rogguts goldilocks, stop the shaking,” he winced. “Just resting my eyes.”
“Well, don’t be so convincing,” she scowled. All around them was chaos. Ruin, screaming and disorder dominated his senses. Right now, Sam was his sole anchor to sanity.
Then Habraum realized something he hadn’t asked. “The rest of CT-1—?!”
“Safe and sound,” Sam smiled, dotingly wiping caked blood off his forehead. “They’re bringing the Phaeton around so we can get out of here. Just hold on.” She held him close until the Phaeton arrived and touched down nearby. Habraum was loaded onto the ship via a levigurney and taken straight to a large bed in the
ship’s mini-Medcenter. He got to see each of his Brigadiers. Aside from a few bruises and cuts, all were relatively fine and watching him in worried silence.
Sam must have told Liliana and the others about Honaa, because the doctor’s eyes were red-rimmed when she came back with his injuries assessment. From the readout, clearly Maelstrom did a number on the Cerc; a severe concussion, his right shoulder dislocated, a hairline fracture on his left forearm, at least seven broken ribs, lacerations along his liver and two ruptured discs in his back. That was combined with a high temperature and dehydration from his overuse of biokinetic energy. After reading these off, Liliana looked at him in disbelief. “Were you trying to kill yourself, sir?”
“You should take a gander at the other guy.” Habraum tried to laugh, but ended up coughing thanks to his busted ribs. Liliana briskly treated his more critical injuries, making Habraum more comfortable. He relaxed as she activated the bed’s cooling system and got vital fluids pumping into his system.
“I’ll finish treating you once we get back to Hollus,” Liliana said before she left.
Sleep came in dismal fits, filled with Jennica taunting Habraum, Honaa’s scaly skin incinerating. Before long he opened his eyes, and saw Marguliese at the room’s entrance, partly shrouded. She walked forward, and he saw that most of her injuries had healed already.
“You look awful,” she stated.
“Thanks.” He tried to sit up, but a sharp pang halted that. “Not with the others?”
“They are grieving for Captain Ishiliba,” she said with an emotionless expression. Just saying the word ‘grieving’ seemed awkward for the Cybernarr. “I felt out of place.”
Habraum recalled the sight of Honaa burning, and looked away. “Maggie,” he began. “I owe you…”
“We are friends.” Marguliese raised a hand. “You owe me nothing.”
Habraum smiled weakly, but noticed no stellar drive hum from the ship. “We’re not moving.”
“No,” Marguliese replied. “We are awaiting the arrival of Aristotle Bogosian, your Chouncilor.”
Habraum stared at her, thinking the meds had screwed up his hearing. “Why would he come here?”
The Cybernarr folded her arms behind her back. “Uncertain. But he requested to converse with you.”
Fifteen macroms later, Chouncilor Bogosian entered Habraum’s room, accompanied by four Honor Guardsmen. He had changed from his tattered white suit from earlier, into a more austere, dark blue garb. Even though Habraum had seen him cowering and sobbing during the conflict, the Chouncilor still had an indelible presence when he entered a room. Most of his injuries appeared healed, save some bruising along his face. He looked to Marguliese with an approving nod. She returned it and stepped back into the shadows, her eyes sweeping over the new arrivals.
“Sir,” Habraum said with utmost respect, but knew better than to sit up. “What do I owe the honor of this visit?” For some reason, he didn’t at all feel nervous that the leader of the Galactic Union stood in the same room with a Cybernarr, yet had no clue.
Bogosian stepped forward, shaken still from the day’s events. “I want to offer my deepest condolences for Captain Ishiliba.” The Chouncilor stared at the ground for a moment before continuing. “And I wanted to thank you personally, not just for saving me. What you did today saved billions of lives on Terra Sollus. Those Korvenites….” His voice grew thick with hatred. “They will pay for the lives they’ve ended, for the humiliation they brought on this Union and the Kedri Imperium!”
The Chouncilor quivered with such anger, Habraum and Marguliese exchanged a look. The Honor Guard in the room didn’t so much as flinch. But Bogosian reined himself in finally. “Captain, how can I repay you and Star Brigade’s bravery?” he asked genuinely, laying a hand on Habraum’s shoulder.
Habraum looked the Chouncilor square in the eyes. He thought of Honaa then, the devastated Conuropolis city-state and other parts of Terra Sollus, the millions that must have died. And those poor Korvenites being tortured on Alorum’s Light and other internment camps.
In those images running through his head, Habraum found strength in his voice. “Make sure that this never happens again.”
Bogosian was already nodding in agreement. “It won’t, Captain. We’ll up the security on this planet, on all Union memberworlds. We’ll send those Korvenites so far—.”
Habraum smiled and shook his head, totally unsurprised by Bogosian’s close-mindedness. “You don’t get it, do you?” The Chouncilor looked shocked at this response. “Maggie?” Habraum craned his head toward the Cybernarr, who already walked forward. The Honor Guard flinched at this, but Bogosian raised a hand to calm them. Before Habraum even asked, she offered her hand to Bogosian. In her palm lay a triangular datacard.
“Take the datacard and watch with an open mind,” Habraum stated, shifting in his bed to get more comfortable. “Then you’ll have started repaying me.”
“What’s on it?”
Habraum shook his head. “Watch and find out.”
The Chouncilor gingerly plucked the card from Marguliese’s open palm, then turned to Habraum and extended his other hand. “Thank you both.”
Habraum returned the handshake firmly, perhaps a little too firmly, as Bogosian winced afterward. “I was merely serving my Union, sir.” Once Bogosian exited the ship, Habraum turned to the Cybernarr. “How did you know to—?”
“—create a datacard of the information you wanted Bogosian to view? I deducted that he would show his gratitude in person. Also I added footage that Samantha and V’Korram compiled in prior internment camp visits.”
Habraum plopped his head on a pillow and chuckled. The tranqs had numbed his ribs so he could finally laugh a little. “By the Twins, I’m going to miss having you around, Maggie!”
Marguliese said nothing, remaining stone-faced. Habraum stopped smiling. Her reaction, while typical, sobered him to the fact that due to his agreement with Khrome, Marguliese wouldn’t be there much longer. Finally the stellar drive engines kicked in, their trademark hum unmistakable. Within moments, the Phaeton took off, heading back to Hollus Maddrone on Zeid. Marguliese exited his room, leaving Habraum with the memory of Honaa’s sacrifice.
Lead them well. And Habraum wept, hoping he could.
32.
Five days had passed since the biggest catastrophe in recent Galactic Union history, on its capitalworld no less. Chouncilor Ari Bogosian sat in the Diamond Room in the city-state of Sheffield, Albion. Fortunately, Sheffield suffered minimal damage from the Korvenite assault. Countless TriVid cameras and members of Bogosian’s staff faced him, silent spectators to his first speech since what they now called ‘the Battle of Terra Sollus.’ The floating holoprompter with his speech floated in front of that throng. The vast panorama of Sheffield’s downtown could be seen behind Bogosian, its euroclassical skyline and crisscrosses of hovercars glittering beneath Rhyne’s crimson sunset.
He crinkled his nose. For some reason the office smelled overly sanitized. Never had Bogosian been struck with nerves before a speech. Maybe the nervousness had to do with knowing the cost of repairing Terra Sollus and the millions of lives lost. Or from what he endured at the hands of Maelstrom. Or because the biggest trade merger in history fell apart under his watch and now the Kedri Imperium had effectively closed its borders to the Galactic Union. Or because of the footage Bogosian viewed on the datacard Habraum Nwosu gave him. Yesterday, in the middle of writing his speech, the Chouncilor took a orv-long break to watch the card. Three and a half orvs later Ari hadn’t even gone through a third of the footage, so disturbed he couldn’t sleep last night. This morning, Bogosian had scrapped his entire speech. His entire staff hated the new speech, specifically the end. Bogosian didn’t care. It had to be said.
Bogosian looked up at the holoprompter mechanoid, and inhaled deeply. “I’m ready.”
“Good evening citizens of the Galactic Union,” Ari began, “Of the eighty-nine times I have addressed you, I do it at this moment
with the heaviest of hearts…” and so Bogosian addressed his Union about the current state of the Trade Merger, confirming its demise, and how the Kedri Imperium had shut its borders to all Galactic Union citizens for the foreseeable future. Bogosian gave a brief overview on the state of the Union’s capitalworld, Terra Sollus and the untold trillions it would cost to rebuild, but that it would come back stronger than ever. He spoke of the traitorous Timbore Fivery and his role in the attack on this homeworld. Ari purposely left out his kidnapping. The Union had already been humiliated before the entire galactic community, and shouldn’t suffer further damage to their reputation because of him. When commending the Union Armada for successfully repelling the assault on Terra Sollus, he couldn’t mention Star Brigade by name. The general public had no knowledge of the Beta-Tier spec ops group, nor did they need to. But Bogosian wouldn’t let the their fallen go unrecognized.
“Let us all recognize the bravery of Captain Honaa Ishiliba. In his death, he will also be awarded the Globe of Terra Firma, commemorating his sacrifice in defending Terra Sollus from its enemies. Before this night is done, pray for the family of Honaa Ishiliba, as they put him to rest on his homeworld.
“Now I know you all are demanding justice for Terra Sollus. Let me be abundantly clear. ONLY Korvenite Independence Front members will suffer the full weight of Galactic Union justice. The terrorist known as Maelstrom is dead, the heart of the Korvenite Liberation Front ripped out. And we will hunt for those Korvenite extremists still on the loose to the ends of the universe.
“Many ask why not the entire Korvenite race. It started with the oath I took for the Chouncilorship almost six years ago. ‘All Union members races are to be represented equally,’ a simple mandate in the Articles of Unification that I, the Chouncilor, did not follow due to my hatred for Korvenites.” Bogosian felt a stitch of anxiety, but his calm and imposing mask never cracked. Here it comes.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s a semi-sentient race or the most intelligent sentient species in the galaxy. All races are equal. If we forget that, we completely lose sight of why we started this Union. Therefore, I am authorizing a total emancipation of the Korvenites held in the Galactic Union’s internment camps. I know that during my career, my stance on Korvenites has always been hardline. And in all of my decisions regarding this race, never have I questioned myself. Until last night.