Uprising (Gateway Series Book 3)

by Brian Dorsey

  “They all go to Capro,” replied Astra. “But once they have talked, including those four that just left, I want them returned to Alpha Humana for public crucifixion.”

  “Yes, ProConsul.”

  “Now, General, what is the status of the battle?”

  “The attack on Alpha Humana has been stopped with several Terillian capital ships lost, although we did lose the Gateway Station.”

  “It is gone?”

  “Yes, ProConsul,” replied Vispa. “Admiral Plaxis’s flagship rammed it. Several mutinies have been reported among Home Fleet ships but most have been put down. The few remaining ships are under attack by loyal forces. There have been uprisings in six regions—Lunari Fields, Juli, Vae, Fortress Malius, Centius Plains, and the Tri-Cities. The resistance has been crushed in all areas except the Lunari Fields and Vae regions. We are mobilizing additional forces against those regions, and they should soon be under control.”

  “Show them no mercy, General. If the resistance lasts more than a week, you are authorized to conduct orbital bombardment.”

  “Of our own planet?” Vispa paused. “Yes, of course, ProConsul.”

  “And I want all families believed to be involved in this rebellion stripped of First Family status. Except for the Malius family. Targus Malius will be elevated to Patriarch by order of the ProConsul for his service to the Republic.”

  “Yes, ProConsul, but isn’t he dead?”

  “The people will hear there is a reward for service to the Republic. His death will be reported later as act of an assassin.”

  “As you wish, ProConsul.”

  “And Dolus? Was there damage?”

  “The base suffered significant damage in several areas, as did some of the ships under construction, but there were no major breaches. We may have been set back a few months, but the base is intact.”

  A red light illuminated on a nearby communications panel indicating a priority message.

  “General, find out what that is about,” ordered Astra.

  Vispa activated the communications panel. “This is General Vispa. What is it?”

  “Sir, this is the Communications Officer. Lord General Zorlar is en route. He wishes to have you join him and return to the Forum to discuss the battle and your plans.”

  “Of course he does,” huffed Astra. “That grey-skinned bastard will expect to be even more involved in our business.” She stopped to look at the pool of blood where Tyris’s body had been. “And have someone clean this mess off the deck.”

  Astra looked up toward the overhead and exhaled. “This attempted coup nearly ruined everything. There was no word of Dolus passed over open circuits?”

  “It appears not, ProConsul. The Dorans should still know nothing about Dolus.”

  Chapter 21

  ProConsul Astra Varus stood next to Lord General Zorlar as his shuttle approached the Forum docking bay.

  “The Terillians will think twice before attempting to attack us outside of the Neutral Quadrant again,” smiled Astra, unconcerned with the human cost of the battle.

  “You should be thankful the Emperor directed our Kings to provide this support, ProConsul,” replied Zorlar. “Otherwise, you might be fighting the Terillians on the surface of your planet.”

  “Of course, we are thankful for the assistance from our Doran allies, General,” replied Astra, veiling her disgust at acknowledging the Dorans had been the deciding factor in the battle. “But do not underestimate the Humani spirit,” she warned. “If they had reached the surface, they would have paid dearly…as would any invader.”

  “Of course,” replied Zorlar in a dismissive tone.

  Astra fumed but maintained her composure. It appeared Zorlar’s gratitude for Astra’s praise of his efforts in front of the advisors had an expiration date. She let out a quick puff of air, yearning for the day she could stand over the rubble of the Xen and Doran civilizations.

  The shuttle shuddered slightly, indicating it had docked. The door opened and six Praetorians stepped off the shuttle, forming for Astra’s exit.

  Astra approached the shuttle access and prepared to step onto the brow.

  “Back inside,” directed a Praetorian officer as he stepped into the shuttle, his rifle at the ready.

  “Report, Praetorian!” ordered Praetorian Sergeant-at-Arms Yashmiri.

  “The arrival party has been attacked,” reported the guard.

  “How many casualties?” asked Yashmiri as he drew his sword and instinctively stood in front of Astra.

  “All of them,” replied the guard.

  “All?”

  “Yes, Praetorian Yashmiri. The entire receiving party is dead on the landing dock.”

  “Martin!” shouted Astra, the rage exploding from her body. She stepped toward the door.

  “ProConsul, please,” pleaded Yashmiri. “Let us secure the landing dock and then get you to safety.”

  “Go!” she ordered.

  More Praetorians rushed from the shuttle, weapons drawn.

  “Captain,” ordered Zorlar to Captain Navar. “Send five men and a mech with them.”

  “Aye,” responded the Doran captain as he turned and quickly selected five men.

  Astra watched as the Doran soldiers rushed past her, followed by the metallic thud of the weapons mech rumbling behind them. She stood just inside the entrance to the shuttle, her blood boiling.

  In a few moments, Yashmiri returned to Astra and Zorlar.

  “ProConsul, Lord General,” he reported. “The landing dock is secure, but we can’t raise Forum security or any Praetorians guards assigned to the Forum. Under these circumstances I recommend we return—”

  “Where is Martin?” she demanded.

  “We do not know, ProConsul. We have not been able to locate her.”

  “Find her!” Astra fumed. “Look around you!” she added as she waved her hand toward the six dead Praetorians scattered on the dock. “She is here!”

  “Probably, ProConsul,” replied Yashmiri. “And that is why I recommend returning to the ship.”

  Astra slapped Yashmiri across the face with a grunt. “Coward! I want every Praetorian in the Forum to hunt her down and—”

  Astra saw Yashmiri take a slow breath, absorbing both the physical and emotional assault she had unleashed.

  “ProConsul,” he said slowly. “I am tasked with protecting your life…which supersedes any emotions I may feel. And I fear there are no Praetorians left in the Forum alive.”

  “Who is this Martin?” asked a frustrated Zorlar.

  “A trained dog that has gone rabid,” grumbled Astra. “She—”

  She froze mid-sentence.

  “Octavius!” she gasped, realizing Martin was inside the Forum somewhere. And so was her son.

  “Move,” she shouted as she rushed past Yashmiri.

  Octavius was the only thought on Astra’s mind as she ran toward the entrance to the Forum. Near the door, she heard Yashmiri’s voice.

  “Secure a path for the ProConsul! Move ahead!”

  Astra saw three Praetorians and two Doran guards rush past her through the door as the large mech took station just outside.

  Suddenly, a wave of pressure and heat lifted Astra off her feet, knocking her to the ground as an explosion rocked the landing dock. Her bones ached and debris fell onto her body as she lay on her back, looking up at the Humani sky. A high-pitched tone echoed through her head as she struggled to take in air.

  Yashmiri knelt beside her, his right arm badly mangled. He was shouting, but the ringing in her ears prevented her from hearing him. She looked to her left and saw the lifeless body of Lord General Zorlar lying next to her, his pale blue eyes frozen in death.

  “ProConsul! ProConsul!”

  As if a switch was flipped, her hearing cleared.

  “ProConsul! The door was wired. You must return to the ship!” reported Yashmiri.

  Her thoughts shot back toward Octavius. “My son!” she yelled, shaking off the effects from the explosi
on. She scrambled to her feet and again headed toward the entrance, now strewn with wrecked bodies of Praetorians and Doran warriors. Without stopping, she rushed past the bodies and the burning hulk of the mech into the hallway leading to her private chambers.

  A few meters from the entrance to the Senatorial subcommittee hall, she saw three Praetorians sprawled on the floor in pools of blood. Next to them was Senator Knoxus, trying to apply pressure to a gunshot wound to his leg. She glanced toward the Senator, who made eye contact with her.

  “She killed them all!” shouted the Senator.

  Astra ignored the Senator, grabbing a pistol from one of the dead Praetorians and continuing down the passageway.

  Her heart sank as she turned the corner to her private complex. “No,” she groaned, looking on the bodies of two Praetorians at the entrance to her chambers. Anxiety and rage filled her mind as she readied her pistol and rushed into the room.

  The scene took her breath.

  Two more Praetorians lay just inside the room, their bodies riddled with bullets. Another was crumpled onto a chair with his chest torn open by a sword.

  Astra heard a noise and spun to her left to see one of her servants tied against a column struggling to free herself. She rushed to the servant and pulled the gag from her mouth.

  “Where is Octavius?” she yelled.

  “Paladin Martin,” panted the servant. “She killed the Praetorians and—”

  Astra slapped the frightened servant. “Octavius! Where is he?”

  “I don’t know,” answered the frightened servant. “Two Praetorians and Mr. Artemis rushed into the room…these three came in after…then Paladin Martin…she killed them and—”

  “What did you do?” demanded Astra.

  “I tried—”

  “Not hard enough,” growled Astra through her teeth, placing the pistol to the servant’s head and firing.

  Stepping away from the limp body of the servant, Astra walked toward Octavius’s room. She wanted to run but she could only walk, afraid of what she would see. Her heart pounded as if it would explode as she opened the door.

  Another dead Praetorian. She involuntarily began to shake and her breathing grew heavy as she frantically scanned the room.

  “Octavius!” she called out, but her voice had grown weak from anxiety.

  She let out a gasp when she saw the overturned crib.

  She rushed to it.

  Beside the crib were the bodies of the Praetorian guards and her spy Artemis. An old Praetorian sword protruded from Artemis’s chest.

  Astra grew dizzy as she knelt down and rolled Artemis onto his back. As the limp body flopped over, she saw a note stuck his chest by the blade.

  Her breath left her body as she read it:

  THE MOST DANGEROUS ANIMAL IS A TRAINED DOG TURNING ON A

  CRUEL MASTER—YOU TOOK MY FATHER SO I TOOK YOUR SON—COME

  GET ME BITCH

  Astra let out a scream that echoed through the chamber and down the bloody hallways of the Forum.

  ***

  Martin grimaced slightly, looking down at her wounded left arm. She reached for another neuro-med but paused; she would need to remain focused.

  Martin leaned over to the navigator panel and punched in a set of coordinates. With the fleet still recovering from the chaos of battle, Martin knew a single hawk attack craft would go undetected. She drew in a deep breath as she pushed the accelerator forward.

  Clearing the atmosphere of Alpha Humana, she saw the carnage from the battle. Doran and Humani escorts and fighters darted in all directions between hulks of capital ships destroyed in the fight. She could see escape pods being jettisoned from a Terillian battleship, hundreds of little flashes of light followed by tiny streaks as the pods accelerated away from the ship.

  Looking on, she saw several Doran and Humani fighters change course toward the damaged battleship. “No!” she shouted aloud as the fighters began opening fire on the escape pods.

  She wanted to help, to save even one, but she couldn’t. Her cargo was too important.

  Her eyes widened as she saw three bright lines trace across the space in front of her from a Doran orbital destroyer. She could only watch as the superheated balls of metal plasma slammed into the damaged battleship, splitting it in two.

  “Time to get out of here,” she said aloud as she continued to accelerate the ship toward the darkness of space.

  Clear of the battlefield, Martin collapsed back into the pilot’s chair as the events of the day washed over her. The Praetorians would long remember this day…if only Astra Varus had been there. A noise from a small bundle in the navigator seat drew her attention.

  “Don’t worry, little one,” she said. “It’s time to meet your father.”

  Chapter 22

  Stone stood by Mori’s hospital bed with General Vae standing next to him, a data pad in his hand.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to discuss this later, Marshal Stone?” asked General Vae.

  “I need to get an update, General,” replied Stone, staring at the unconscious Mori. “I just don’t want to leave her right now.”

  “I understand, Sir. Shall I begin?”

  “Yes, General.”

  “Overall casualties to the invasion force was 21,354 of the 203,345 embarked. Of the 21,354, there were 15,345 killed, 4,783 wounded, and 1,226 missing. Most were lost with the orbital destroyers and carriers that were destroyed. The casualty list includes four generals, fifteen colonels—”

  “Prepare a schedule for me visit each of the wounded, General. And start with the enlisted.”

  “Yes, Sir, but as they are split up amongst many ships in the fleet, it may take several days to see them all.”

  “Just make the schedule, General,” said Stone, looking up toward Vae.

  “Of course, Sir.”

  “Have we heard anything from Alpha Humana or the Home Fleet?”

  “Nothing, Sir.”

  “Then Astra has tightened the vise,” replied Stone. “That will be all for now, General,” he continued, looking back at Mori.

  “Yes, Sir.” Vae paused. “And, Sir…”

  “What is it, General?”

  “She fought bravely.”

  “Thank you, General.”

  “Shall I meet you here again tomorrow, Sir?”

  “Yes, General. Do try to get some sleep.”

  As General Vae walked away, Stone returned his focus to Mori. He sat with his head in his palm and his other gripping hers. Exhausted, he soon fell asleep.

  The binging of medical equipment startled Stone back to consciousness.

  “Are you the new doctor?” asked Stone.

  “I am Colonel Stormrace, Marshal Stone,” replied the man. “I’ve come over from the carrier Yellow Moon at Admiral Winter’s request.”

  “Thank you. Has there been any change?” he asked with the same desperation in his voice as every other conversation he’d had with doctors and nurses for the last week.

  “Sorry, Marshal,” replied the doctor. “Her condition remains stable but unchanged.”

  Stone turned back toward Mori as he awaited the doctor’s response. She had a breathing mask over her mouth; Stone could just barely make out the air tube protruding from the mask down her throat, forcing oxygen into her lungs. He looked down to the maze of tubes connected to her chest and arm. His gaze then moved down to the large cylinder where her lower leg should be. “Will the chamber work?”

  “It should, Marshal,” replied the doctor. “The regeneration chambers are usually very successful. The problem is—”

  “The loss of oxygen,” interrupted Stone. He had heard the same explanation from every doctor he had asked but could help but asking.

  “I see you have met Colonel Stormrace,” said Winterfall’s Chief Medical Officer, Commander Ravenheart as he joined the two men. “He is the senior medical officer in the fleet.”

  “Yes, Commander. We were discussing the oxygen issue.”

  “Yes, D
r. Ravenheart,” added Stormrace, “I understand you had to resuscitate her several times the first day?”

  “We had to bring her back once getting back to Winterfall,” said Stone.

  “And the doctors here lost her three more times the first day,” added Ravenheart. “The other doctors fear, and I concur, that she may have suffered some damage to her brain due to momentary shortfall of oxygen during the arrests.”

  “When will you know?” he asked.

  “Several weeks, Sir. We need to keep her sedated and on forced oxygen for a while. It will help the regeneration process and is also precautionary for her possible brain injury. We have also introduced nano-neuron recovery cells into her blood stream. It is newer technology, but has shown promise.” Stormrace placed his hand on Stone’s shoulder. “We are doing everything we can.”

  “Thank you, Colonel,” replied Stone. “She’s…” He took a deep breath to compose himself. “She’s important to me.”

  “She’s important to all of us, Marshal,” replied Stormrace.

  He turned back toward Mori, placing his hand on her arm. “She’s everything to—”

  A commotion outside of Mori’s room drew Stone’s attention.

  “You can’t go in there,” he heard on the other side of the thin door.

  “Stop me,” replied a familiar voice.

  “Emily,” declared Stone, standing and facing the door.

  The door slowly opened and he saw the familiar red hair, tied tight in a ponytail, enter the room.

  “Emi—”

  His attention quickly shifted to a bundle in her arms. He looked closer and saw a tiny hand.

  “Sir,” said Martin, a mixture of anguish and relief on her face.

  “What is—”

  “Allow me to introduce you to your son, Octavius.”

  Stone’s knees weakened. The son he thought he would never see—one he thought would grow learning to hate him—was right in front of him.

  “It’s really—”

  “Here, Sir,” said Martin with a smile as she placed Octavius in Stone’s arms. “I couldn’t give you Alpha Humana, but I can give you your son.”

  Stone took Octavius in his trembling arms, looking into his son’s eyes for the first time.