The Great Game Trilogy

by O. J. Lowe

  He grinned at it, held out his free hand and jerked two fingers forward, beckoning it in a casual taunt. Nick saw the eyes light up and he realised that there had to be some hint of intelligence at work deep inside that mind. Not just innate animal cunning but a spark of something complex and capable at work. It didn’t make a difference as to what he had to do but he could appreciate there was something magnificent at work close by.

  The same hand dropped to his waist, slipped another crystal into his summoner and Froak appeared, the toxic frog hitting the creature from behind, the same way Carcer had earlier. It reacted with surprise, turned to face the new arrival and Nick struck, sprinting in and ramming the weapon through the creature’s side, all the way to the hilt, saw the shock in its eyes, pain and surprise, as if to say, ‘this wasn’t supposed to happen.’

  It had to hurt. It really did. When it reached around and grabbed his hands, crushing down on both them and the hilt of the weapon, he was a little surprised. He couldn’t pull away, they were clamped down too hard, he could hear something shattering and he hoped it wasn’t bone.

  And then something weird happened.

  This was the capture trance; he’d heard every experience of it varied from caller to caller. That moment of calm when caller and spirit could become one, some found it easy, others found it hard. Him, he’d never had any real problems with it, not really. It was all about willpower. Now he was here, he found himself wishing he wasn’t. The creature… The creature as it was inside stared at him, all knots of fear and rage and angry loathing, not actually a physical shape but more a web. “Sorry,” he said. “But you were trying to kill me.”

  “Laws of the jungle.”

  He stiffened, almost lost his focus. He knew that voice, saw her stood there barefoot and in a pretty white dress. Nick turned, saw her as he wished to remember her. Not with the way her face had been smashed in but radiant and beautiful… He didn’t want to remember the way her eyes were wet now, her makeup streaked down her face.

  “No,” he whispered. “Don’t cry, Sharon.”

  “How can I not?” she replied. “You’re in so much pain. And it’s only going to get worse.”

  Nick shook his head. “You’re here now.”

  She mirrored the gesture. “No, I’m not. Not forever. Soon I’ll fade like the memories. You won’t remember the true me, you’ll just remember what you want to remember. I’m just a shade.”

  “I’ll remember I loved you,” Nick said, his voice breaking just a few octaves. “I’ll remember I was willing to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  “And I did spend the rest of my life with you,” she said. “It just wasn’t as long as either of us wanted.” It was a sad smile but at least it was a smile. “I know I loved it.”

  He’d loved it too, truly had. Her smile grew. She knew, she reached out a hand to him. He took it, couldn’t help it. Her skin was just as soft as he remembered, if a little weird. Like she wasn’t entirely there, spongy even. If he squeezed, his hand might go through hers. For the moment, he forgot where he was, threatened to forget who he was, everything and everyone, even the unialiv. But it couldn’t last, wouldn’t last. It was gone, just like her.

  “So why are you here?”

  She sighed. “Always so keen for answers. You’re messing about with power you can’t even start to understand. And that thing…” She pointed to the creature. “It’s poisonous. You’re tripping badly lover. Maybe I’m not even here. But you’re close. You’ll survive this. You know how! It’s what you’ve always done. While we’re on that subject! Can’t believe you never told me you were Unisco! Bastard!”

  “Yeah like you didn’t have secrets either,” Nick said dryly. She laughed wryly at that and clapped her hands together.

  “Okay, I’ll give you that,” she said. “Maybe this isn’t the last time we’ll see each other. The ways of the world are mysterious indeed. But you shouldn’t seek me out. That way lies true heartbreak. Now I’m dead I see it all, I see how it all fits together and how we’re all a small part of something greater. It’s sobering. Everything I ever wanted to know and some things I didn’t.” She reached out again, gave him a sorrowful look. He took it, this time she didn’t feel of anything as she moved to embrace him, something that hurt more than anything the creature could have. When she shoved him back into the tangled messy web that was the opponent, he found he was already coming to accept it.

  It was weakening, either he’d conquered it, or the wounds were killing it but there was no crystal. The creature… the unialiv… now he was this close to claiming it, close to becoming a part of him, he could see it in horrible detail spasming repeatedly, parts of its body fading and reappearing. The weapon’s blade faded, and the metal casing of the hilt cracked beneath his hand and the unialiv vanished from sight through the cracks.

  Seconds later it all came to pieces and Nick saw something small and shiny hit the ground amidst metal fragments. A crystal, larger than most he’d ever seen but now containing the spirit of something that had regardless managed to nearly wipe out an entire team of Unisco operatives. Sighing, he fell back and let his head rest against the floor of the hangar. Somewhere, his eyes had gone wet, he tried to blink them away, but his heart wasn’t in it.

  Chapter Nineteen. Embers.

  “I have firmly always believed a strong relationship with women like Claudia Coppinger, women of integrity and power, of unquestioned business acumen is good for any kingdom where she decides to set up shop. It’s good for the people and for the kingdom.”

  Premesoir Vice-President, Thomas Rogan singing the praises of Claudia Coppinger.

  The third day of Summerfall.

  Prideaux Khan had found herself with probably the worst part of the mission but in a strange way, she was relishing the challenge. Find the vital systems of this damned airbase and disable them. She worked alone. She always did. While the rest of them had gone off in their teams, she’d taken a bag of high-yield explosives and set out to deal with the engines, the weapons, the life support, anything she could take out. All with the intent to make the fleet’s job that little bit easier. She’d trained as an infiltrator, a saboteur, she might have made an exceptional assassin in another life.

  For now, she wasn’t thinking about that, rather about the whole mess this damn thing had resulted in. Because it was a mess. Assuming everything went to plan, then there’d still be the hells to pay with what came next. Heads were going to roll, Cyris had given them enough information to be assured of that. Noorland was already going through the system to see what he could dig out, they’d already been warned Ritellia had been, if not aware, then at least complicit in this whole affair. That’d be a pretty big worm to dangle at the best of times, not least when you also considered people like Mazoud and Thomas Rogan himself had been named. Thomas Rogan, a name she’d not thought about for a while. And if a man like that had been in the pay of Coppinger, the catch got bigger. Thomas fucking Rogan. Vice-president of Premesoir and the inventor of the ghost containment particle barrier, a tool of a merciless criminal organisation capable of unknown levels of destruction and deceit. Through him, they found themselves close to the ear of one of the most powerful men in the five kingdoms. Oh dear.

  She had a Featherstone, but she hadn’t fired yet. Those occasions when she’d come across Coppinger grunts, she’d either slipped past them or dealt with them silently. Her instructors back at the academy had always said she had an uncanny knack of slipping in and out of shadows you hadn’t quite expected to be there. Master of concealment and all that. Of course, there were things that they didn’t know about her. About her childhood… She couldn’t let them know. At best, she’d be considered a security risk. At worst, they’d probably feel sorry for her. And she didn’t want that. Didn’t need it. Sympathy was a useless emotion. Only the for the weak. And she wasn’t weak. Far from it. She was the Spectre, the nickname she’d been apportioned a long time ago. She’d considered it from every angle and had
decided she approved. If she hadn’t… Well someone had tried branding her under the name Spooky once. He’d been proof that human teeth don’t grow back. And that eating mashed-up food for the rest of your life doesn’t do much for your disposition.

  The next grunt she let see her, strode in front of him and watched him react almost painfully slowly. His weapon was almost locked onto her heart before she hit him twice in the throat, hard and true. His neck jerked back, he began to gag, she wrapped a leg around his and twisted him to the ground, watched him land with a dull thud and died amidst tragic little moans threatening to break her concentration. She frowned, kicked him again just to be sure. This time he went quiet. Hint taken.

  Still moving silently like a deadly jungle cat, she continued to stalk the corridors in search of her quarry. Al Noorland was there in her ear, guiding her when she needed it, but she was tuning most of what he said out, bar the stuff with value. Blow something important, sabotage this whole thing, be a hero. She had to admit, she found that last one a quaint notion. So many of the things Unisco agents did were as faceless men and women. If she was to be a hero, it wouldn’t be gaining the recognition and admiration of the public. It’d be a few frank words from the director, warned not to take so many damn bloody risks again, followed by a handshake and several warm words of congratulations. The sort of thing that made her blood boil. When you did good work, you wanted to be rewarded. Something for something, nothing given for nothing, nothing taken for takings sake. It was human nature.

  Not that she hated her job. Far from it. Unisco as an organisation had given her something she’d been lacking in her life for as long as she could remember. Not just a chance to make a difference, but a chance to let out what lay nestled inside her to let the demons come out and play. Here, alone and surrounded in the enemy territory, she felt that she knew who she was truly. That some good came out of it all was just a happy side effect.

  Wim Carson wasn’t satisfied. Perchance he was still rusty with the Kjarn, you couldn’t undo five years of atrophy in a short space of time after all. But he’d felt something when he’d tried to work his power on that second pilot. That bigger ship had come chasing after him, following his previous efforts in slamming the control stick of one of the fighters into crashing into his wing mate. And he’d gotten into her head, he’d put her out of it once, that should have dissuaded her. He knew it was a woman. But she’d fought back and come at them again.

  The second time had been harder, he’d had to pull out more of the stops to try and put her on collision course with the Eye of Claudia. And he’d nearly succeeded only to once again have her thwart his efforts. It rankled. Still things were looking up. She might have broken free of his influence but at least she was keeping her distance now. Interesting developments to say the least. It was unusual to find someone with the strength of will to resist influence as she had. It wasn’t unlikely she had some potential. It was also entirely irrelevant right now. He’d never find out who she was. And at this moment in time, he had other things to focus on. She wasn’t important.

  “We’re almost clear of the fire zone,” Claudia said, breaking the silence and his concentration. “Almost free. Good job.”

  “I told you I’d keep them off your back,” Wim replied thoughtfully. “How did this happen?”

  “Someone had to have talked,” she said. He heard a bit tinge of regret in her voice. “No other way to explain it. And as for my brother… Did you really never sense any deception from him?”

  “It doesn’t work like that,” Wim said, a little annoyed at her accusation. “It’s not an exact science and I’m not fluent. Signals can be misread. Muddled. I sensed nothing but absolute certainty in whatever he said or felt. He avoided me a lot. I wonder if that was the reason why.”

  “Perhaps,” she said. “It’s irrelevant now, I’m afraid. Things have gotten a lot more interesting. We have to move up the schedule.” She sounded excited by what she said, unless his ears were telling him lies. But her emotions told him she was giddy, gleeful.

  “Mistress Coppinger! We’re losing the battle, our eaglefighters are being taken out by the dozen. We’re outnumbered, our guns and shields are failing, we need to retreat!”

  She sighed at hearing Folson’s voice. And the excitement faded away to be replaced with malice. “You mean you’ve failed me, Commander?”

  “Mistress, my life is yours to do what you…”

  The sound of laser fire broke across the comm system and Wim winced at the sound of it, followed by the slump of a body hitting the deck. “As he wished, Mistress.” He recognised that voice. Rocastle. “Am I in charge of the retreat now?”

  “Rocastle.” He could hear the malice in her voice. “Where is Domis?”

  “Nobody knows. Am I in charge now?”

  An audible sigh. “Yes,” she said begrudgingly. “Harvey Rocastle, I promote you to temporary commander to oversee the retreat. Shed the damaged outer layers, bring the control centre in. They won’t expect that. Remember, you’ll be incredibly vulnerable once you shed it, so you need to wait for them to get off your back before running. We cannot afford to lose that station, Rocastle. If we do, I’m holding you responsible.”

  “At the risk of sounding unfaithful, Mistress,” Rocastle said. “Am I going to ask them nicely to do that?”

  “No, arrangements have been made,” she said. “Just pick your moment.”

  She closed the comms, grimaced. “Why am I surrounded by morons? No offence, my friend.”

  “None taken,” Wim said. “So… Set a course for Burykia, I guess. That is where we must go and the sooner the better.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Admiral!”

  Alex heard the shout across all the channels, at roughly the same moment the tac-reader screeched out a warning of its own. She had a horrible feeling she knew what Criffen was about to be told even before it came, the sight of new ships entering the fray.

  “Enemy ships in sector twenty-eight! They’re coming right for us!” That was the captain of the Sitting Target, unless she was mistaken, though she couldn’t remember his name. “It’s the Dark Wind!”

  Alex couldn’t help but laugh, even as she knew she’d been right in her assumption. This was about reasonable for her. This whole thing had started for her where the Dark Wind had been concerned, that felt like such a long time ago now, and here they were to finish it. That was their plan. And, she gritted her teeth together hard, if she had anything to do with it then it wouldn’t be a success.

  “Taking heavy fire! We need air support now!”

  She should have guessed it sooner as debris and smoke tore through the air around her cockpit, the blasts taking their toll on the outer hull of the Eye. In the heat of the battle, she had other distractions. For a moment, she felt a complete lack of envy for Criffen’s position. He had a horrible choice to make right now, press the attack and complete the mission, or lose another capital ship in a wildly escalating battle he’d done his best to control but ultimately come up short in. She glanced at her tac-reader, saw that the number of combatants were falling by the minute. It had turned into a war of attrition that had gone against them. They’d tried to cut down enemy numbers, they’d succeeded but so had the enemy in reverse.

  On the other hand, this airbase was a danger to everyone else in the five kingdoms. Although its armaments were depleted, it could be rearmed. Rebuilt. Taking it out had to be the priority.

  She saw the first wave of Dark Wind fighters buzz across the Sitting Target and she had a horrible feeling what was going to happen even before she was proved right. Criffen’s voice cut across the comms, he didn’t sound convinced he was doing the right thing. “All squadrons move to defensive positions and attack the Dark Wind,” he said. There was an aura of regret in his voice, but it held steel. Like a man who had decided to throw the consequences to the hells but still knew the fire might roast him in the end. “They picked their side. Now show them what happens to traitor
s. I repeat, all squadrons.”

  That meant hers. Alex sighed, threw the Wolf Rose around and nosed it out the way of a spattering of fire coming from one of the guns they hadn’t destroyed. If Navarro and Sullivan had anything to say on the matter, they held their tongues. Good, she didn’t want to hear it. And she needed to concentrate, keep her mind on the job. Going in here, they’d be heavily outnumbered, and she didn’t want to get blindsided. Just focus on the flying, let your gunners do their jobs. Easier said than done. She had faith in them, they’d earned that much for getting her this far. They’d probably already be a fireball if not for their efforts.

  “Affirmed, Admiral,” she said. “Pulling out and ready to engage.” She hid her frustration well as a flurry of more such sentiments filtered across comm systems from other ships. After all the time she’d spent a prisoner on that thing, she’d been looking forward to seeing it go up in flames. “Makeshifts let’s get them.” All the remaining fighters converged on her tail, it felt strange flying at the tip of the formation but at the same time she realised she could get used to it. It wouldn’t do to get too comfortable in the role, but it’d be nice to one day hold it for real. Not just for one engagement where the admiral had done the best with the cards he’d been dealt.

  Too many ships, a ragtag mismatch of models, just like before. She’d always had a theory it was what made the Dark Wind such an effective force to fight against. Some of those ships might be old but they were maintained well. And the older a ship was, the longer out of general use it probably was. Some of them had to be ten to twenty years old but their equipment and weaponry was doubtless top of the line, constantly upgraded to the best stuff. The longer it was out of use, the easier it was to forget exactly what they could do, to forget an old dog could still bite.