Books One to Three Omnibus (Armada Wars)

by R. Curtis Venture

  All the better for us, he thought. Gave us default rights to those goods, and the time to fulfil another contract.

  Although this job was not exactly going as planned either.

  “I suppose it’s possible,” he replied at last. “But there are plenty of other explanations. Gate might have just been malfunctioning.”

  “I guess.” Sayad lapsed into silence.

  The town seemed to look flatter the closer they got. Borreto sniffed the air, and smelled the stale, dry odour of burned homes. There was wood-smoke in it, and a plastic tang that caught in the back of his throat, but something seemed to be missing.

  “Smell is wrong,” he said. “There’s no decay.”

  “There is,” said Prayer. “Just… nowhere fuckin’ near enough.”

  She pointed to her holo, and Borreto peered over her shoulder to see what the robot was sending back to her.

  “He’s been over five blocks already. Well, you know… what’s left of them. Building density suggests there would have been over three hundred residents in that area alone. PRAISE has sniffed out enough residual organics for about six bodies.”

  “Six?”

  “Yeah, I know. Concentration suggests they’re buried beneath the rubble. Nobody on the surface at all.”

  “Keep at it.”

  Borreto left Sayad with Prayer, and wandered over to where Castigon was standing. The passenger was staring out over the ruins with a completely neutral expression, his empty face betraying nothing.

  “You had someone here?” Borreto asked.

  “No.”

  “Why’d you come then?”

  “I thought confidentiality was one of your unique selling points?”

  “Just curious is all. Don’t say if you don’t want to.”

  Castigon filled his lungs with the still, dead air, and slowly exhaled.

  “To be honest, Captain Borreto, I think my presence here is completely redundant. The person I came to find is probably dead.”

  • • •

  Brant met Tirrano in the commissary, half an hour earlier than usual. She nodded to him, but continued to eat, pretending that she had no particular interest in his presence.

  Nice touch, he thought.

  He placed his tray on the table and sat down opposite her. She continued to give the food her undivided attention.

  “No way to know if anyone is listening in on us.” He murmured it softly while he unwrapped cutlery from a paper napkin.

  “Just have to hope for the best,” she said.

  “They’ll call it sedition.”

  Tirrano shovelled food into her mouth, shrugged as she swallowed, then dabbed at her lips with a napkin of her own.

  “It’s not like we’re planning to kill someone,” she said. “We’re just hypothesising.”

  “Right.”

  “Right. So go on.”

  “Branathes,” said Brant. “He’s… wrong.”

  “Wrong how?”

  “I don’t know. I noticed it back on Fort Kosling. He seemed, well, blasé about everything that was going on. And he was practically beating the war drums himself over the Viskr situation.”

  “That makes him an incompetent and an idiot, nothing more. We knew that already.”

  “True, that’s why I didn’t really say anything before. But then there was yesterday.”

  “What about yesterday? Come on love, spill it.”

  “Didn’t you think it was odd that he argued with people to show us as MIA instead of KIA, yet he was certain — with no evidence at all — that Doctor Laekan was dead? About which, I’d point out, he was flat-out wrong.”

  “A bit, yes. But he’s always been an opinionated oddball.”

  “And then when we told him that Danil Bel-Ures is alive and well, and could possibly tell us more about what’s going on, he literally stopped in his tracks and told us to forget it.”

  Tirrano’s hand stopped on the way back up to her mouth. “I have to admit, I did think that was a strange thing to say.”

  “Yes, because it was.”

  Tirrano’s fork continued on its way, and she chewed thoughtfully.

  “Amarist Naeb,” she said when she was finished. “She started off in medical.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “But she left in the ICS Hector.”

  “Yeah. What about it?”

  “On a fortress, there are literally dozens of pressure hatches between medical and the nearest access to the docks. Half of them are opened from remote security stations.”

  “You’re right. Fuck me, who was opening them for her?”

  Tirrano placed her cutlery down on the table. “Could it really have been Branathes?”

  “Think about it. We believe the whole reason we found Naeb was because she was part of a force which penetrated a secure research station. We now know she wasn’t a blank slate after all; she was able to act independently, and she escaped against all the odds. What if there are more Rasas out there? What if they are more like sleeper agents than mindless blanks? What if it wasn’t even Naeb who disabled fire containment at Kosling?”

  “Like you said, fuck me.”

  “Sorry, but it just sounds wrong when you say it.”

  “Never say never, right?”

  “Let’s stay on topic.”

  Tirrano smirked at him.

  “Seriously Peras, this is important. The whole fortress could be at risk. Shit, the whole Empire.”

  “Fine, go on.”

  “If we’re right, then we can easily predict his next move.”

  “We can?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? He thought Laekan was dead. He made a point of telling us her data on Naeb was lost with Fort Kosling.”

  “You don’t think—“

  “I do, Peras. I do think that. Logically, the next thing he would have to do to protect himself is get rid of Doctor Laekan.”

  “Fuck me.”

  • • •

  The sun was almost kissing the horizon when Borreto asked Prayer to call it a day. Thankful for the reprieve, as late as it arrived, Castigon came back to join the others as they trudged dejectedly from the ruined town.

  “I can’t fuckin’ believe it,” Prayer was saying. “Where are they all?”

  “Where are who?” Castigon asked.

  “Last time we were here,” Borreto said, “this was a thriving city. The capital, right? Population of about a hundred and sixty thousand.”

  “So?”

  Prayer answered for the captain. “PRAISE reckons there are about two hundred dead under all that rubble.”

  “So few?” Castigon said. He was genuinely surprised.

  “I know, right?” Said Prayer. “Nobody on the ground, and no survivors.”

  Castigon fell silent. It was the first time since leaving Correctional Compound One he had been faced with a problem that didn’t somehow revolve around reaching and killing particular Shards of the Empress.

  A whole city levelled, and cleared out almost completely. It was unprecedented. He figured there must have been an initial bombardment to kill the surface-to-air defences and comm towers, then a ground operation of some sort, then the town would have been pounded fiercely to flush out those who had managed to hide.

  But who would do such a thing? Who could? Like most of the more remote Imperial worlds, this planet had orbital platforms that could punch right through a large-frame cruiser. The remains of those shattered platforms were now adrift in and around their orbits. Why would someone invest in breaching those defences, just to disappear a bunch of civilians from the surface of a world as boring as this one?

  The humanitarian in you is resurfacing, he thought. Put an end to that shit, right now.

  He made a conscious effort to shove the woes of Lophrit aside in his mind, and concentrated on his own problems. In a way, the trip had not been wasted. The Shard he had tracked to this world was almost certainly dead, or it might be that she soon would be, depending on what had
happened to the people who were unaccounted for.

  It had saved him a little time, and a lot of risk. He could move on to his next target.

  “What are you planning to do about this, Captain Borreto?”

  “Nothing,” the captain said. “There’s nobody here we can help. We dust off and leave. We’ll send a message to the network to let them know what’s happened here, and the proper authorities can handle it.”

  “Do you really want to draw that kind of attention to yourself?”

  “It’s not a problem. We’ll send anonymously.”

  “There really is no such thing as a truly anonymous message, Borreto. If they want to identify the sender, they will.”

  “Well, Prayer can work wonders with a comm system.”

  “It won’t be enough. You might as well just hand yourself in.”

  Borreto stopped walking, and turned to look Castigon in the eye. “You mean I might as well hand you in, don’t you?”

  “Am I that transparent?”

  Borreto supplanted the question with one of his own. “How much danger are you putting me and mine in?”

  Castigon noted the captain had crossed his arms, and was now tilting his head and squinting slightly. His posture was defensive, his gaze betrayed the fact that he was re-assessing Castigon as a potential threat.

  “No more danger than you would be in carrying anyone else,” Castigon said. “Unless you send that fucking message, then you’ve got real problems.”

  “You want to stay right here, son? Here with all the fucking ghosts? I’ll waive your fare if you do. You carry on like that with me, and you’ll be hitching your next ride with whoever comes to investigate.”

  Castigon weighed up the options. He could easily put Borreto down, he was confident of that. But the pilot and the woman had continued walking and were nearly at the ship. If he was going to commandeer it for himself, he would have to reach them across open ground. The chances of doing that without being shot were pretty damned slim.

  He still had a lot to do. He chose to bite his tongue and play the long game.

  “Forgive me, Captain. That was disrespectful of me. How about you double my fare instead, and take me where I need to go next?”

  Borreto frowned, and Castigon figured from the barely perceptible twitches of his eyes and facial muscles that he was weighing up options of his own.

  “Triple.”

  “Triple, and you don’t tell anyone about this fucking graveyard until we part ways. You do, and you’ll get nothing.”

  “Done. Where do you want to go next?”

  “Serrofus Major.”

  “Really? With all the unrest that’s going on there right now?”

  “I won’t be on the surface for long,” Castigon said. “Believe me.”

  “Should have gone for more than triple,” Borreto muttered.

  “Too late now. If anything goes wrong, I’ll compensate you accordingly. How’s that?”

  “Guess it’ll have to do.”

  Borreto turned and walked away from Castigon, back towards the ship.

  Castigon smiled. It was a long time since he had been part of a team, even if the team was really just being paid to ferry him about, and probably wanted rid of him at the first opportunity.

  He looked back across the quiet, still ruins before he carried on to the landing pad. The absolute extent of the capital’s unexplained death was strangely eerie. For the first time in an age, he shuddered involuntarily.

  • • •

  Brant felt his scalp contracting with a cold, tight sensation, and he wondered if this had been a good idea after all. He sneaked a glance sideways, the smallest possible motion he could manage, and saw Tirrano was staring ahead fixedly. She looked perfectly calm and collected, and he wondered how she always managed to appear unruffled when being dressed down.

  “It’s not that you went ahead and did it without telling anyone,” Branathes was saying. “It’s the fact that you didn’t ask me that’s so disappointing. In case you two have forgotten, I am your supervising officer.”

  “We assumed you would concur with our reasoning,” Tirrano said flatly.

  “Did you now?”

  “We just thought,” said Brant, “when you mentioned that we had lost all of Doctor Laekan’s data at Kosling, that you might approve of certain safeguards. She is, after all, the only person who has examined a Rasa.”

  Branathes glared back at Brant with a cold glint in his eyes. He held the gaze for far too long, and Brant began to feel that he was being scrutinised by someone who had never met him before. Something invisible with many legs crawled across his skin, everywhere at once.

  “I don’t suppose it occurred to either of you that putting an armed guard around Doctor Laekan’s medbay draws attention to her?”

  Brant saw Tirrano move, and looked across to her. She was looking back at him.

  “Honestly, Sir, that’s irrelevant.” Tirrano continued to look at Brant until she had already begun to reply to Branathes, then shifted her attention back across to their supervisor. “The threat to Laekan will come from people who want to silence her, and they would already know she poses a risk. Wouldn’t they, Sir?”

  “Don’t be insolent, Peras. It doesn’t look good on you at all.”

  Brant spotted the deflection immediately. He felt the rise of bile in his throat for a second.

  “It’s not insolence, Sir. She’s right. There probably is a threat to Laekan, and she needs to be protected. Having that protection there when it’s needed is much more important than worrying about what it looks like—“

  “Enough,” Branathes said. “I’ve heard enough of this. The armed guard goes.”

  “With respect, Sir, that’s weapons-grade bullshit.”

  Brant’s jaw dropped, and he turned his whole head and shoulders to look at Tirrano. This had not been part of their strategy.

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, Tirrano. I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear it, and give you a moment to think of a more appropriate reply.”

  “Sir,” Tirrano said. “You are so far off the mark on this you might as well just go and kill her yourself.”

  “Operator Tirrano, you are mere words away from being relieved of your duties and escorted to your quarters.”

  “Fat chance.”

  Brant felt as though he were adrift on the ocean. His life raft was whirling and tipping over the swell, and every so often he caught a glimpse of his cresting oar as it floated farther and farther away.

  “Peras, what are you doi—“

  “Here’s the thing, Sir.” The pitch of Tirrano’s voice was rising. Brant could see her body tensing, could almost feel her chest and throat tightening himself. “If she gets rubbed out, after we have put a guard around her then taken it off again, it won’t be you who takes the fall. It’ll be us. You’ll say we failed to convince you, that we didn’t do our jobs right. You know you will. I mean let’s be frank here; we all know how much you love keeping your job.”

  Branathes was silent. Brant could not decide if that was a good sign, or a bad one.

  “So I’m sorry you didn’t like us acting on our own initiative, and trying to ensure the safety of a colleague and fellow human being, but if you want those guards taken off her medbay then you can issue that order yourself. Sir.”

  Branathes remained silent for a long and uncomfortable moment. Brant shifted in his seat, waiting for judgement.

  “Very well,” the monitor said. “If that’s how you feel, I will do it myself. But this is not over. You are both on report, and I will let you know later on what the consequences will be for your outrageous lack of respect.”

  “Yes Sir,” they said together.

  “Now get out, and go back to your work.”

  Brant and Tirrano stood in silence, and walked out of the office. As soon as the compartment doors closed behind them, and they were walking down the corridor, Tirrano forced out a deep breath.

  “Oh
, what a prick. Rasa or not, that man needs a wrench taking to his head.”

  “Cool it, Peras. What the hell was that in there?”

  “He was going to manoeuvre us into doing his dirty work for him,” Tirrano said. “Surely you picked up on that?”

  “I really couldn’t tell if he was being a prick because he is one, or because he’s actually an enemy agent. We should have just let him try to whack Laekan, then intervened when he was beyond any reasonable explanation.”

  “There’s no way we could do that. It would look a bit odd, don’t you think? Hanging around medical when we have duties to see to? And it’s not like we can tell anyone else about this.”

  “But we’re back to square one. He’s going to remove the guards.”

  “Cameras. We’ll catch him.”

  “We don’t just want to catch him though, do we? Laekan actually does need to survive.”

  “How do we stop him then?”

  “Remember those weird structures in Naeb’s brain? Bit of a giveaway. We could somehow contrive to get him under a scanner.”

  “He’ll know. There’s no way he would willingly go through with that.”

  “We could always knock him out and tell medical he fell on his head.”

  “That’s a lovely idea.”

  Tirrano fell silent, and they continued walking for a few minutes before a new thought occurred to Brant.

  “What if…” he began.

  “What?”

  “What if he’s not the only Rasa on Fort Laeara?”

  “Oh my fucking worlds, Brant,” Tirrano said. “You sure like finding problems.”

  — 08 —

  The Occupation of Mibes

  Disputer soared smoothly from the dark heart of a bound wormhole, followed closely by her companions. Spread out before her, against the dazzlingly bright backdrop of Mibes, dozens of Imperial starships were already waiting in high orbit of the planet.

  “Jump successful,” said Helm. “Local stellar locks confirmed. Slight discrepancy on pulsar locks, but it’s well within limits.”