Books One to Three Omnibus (Armada Wars)

by R. Curtis Venture

  “Where’s what?”

  “What do you think? Your stash.”

  “Hidden from prying eyes.”

  “So it’s under the lining of your helmet then?”

  “No…?”

  Caden strode across the compartment to where Throam had dumped his armour and kit, and lifted his helmet from the deck.

  “Would it kill you to clean this thing?” Caden asked. “Oh man, it’s all damp and cold.”

  He pulled out the pads of foam lining, tearing them off their velcro. A plastic bag fell to the deck, and he picked it up.

  “White Thunder, I presume?”

  “Come on man, that was a gift.”

  “A gift? You moron. You don’t use this. Ever.”

  Caden headed towards the inner hatch.

  “What are you doing?”

  “This shit is getting flushed.”

  Throam got up off the bunk, and was between Caden and the wash enclosure in a flash.

  “Don’t think so,” Throam said.

  Caden looked up. And up, and up. Throam always looked a lot taller when he was annoyed. His body was tensed up.

  “Don’t think for one moment you’re going to intimidate me with your pectorals and that frankly terrifying bulge. This is all going down the drain.”

  “I think you should hand it over.”

  “Bollocks to that,” Caden said. He took a step back, popped the top of the bag open, and emptied it over the deck in a wide, sweeping arc.

  “You arsehole,” Throam said.

  “Maybe that’ll teach you not to try and force yourself on Eilentes.”

  “You utter cu— Wait, force what now?”

  “You really don’t remember? That should be the first clue that you have a problem.”

  “Yeah yeah, go back a page.”

  “You tried to fuck Eilentes when she didn’t want you to,” Caden yelled. “I mean, you really tried to make her.”

  Throam suddenly looked a lot shorter. He stumbled backwards to the bunk, and sat on the edge with his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees.

  “What were you thinking? People have been court-martialled for far less. To say nothing of poor Euryce.”

  “Thought we just established I wasn’t thinking.” Throam muttered it through the gap between his forearms.

  “This shit ends now, you hear me? I’m not going to tolerate it for a second longer.”

  “Yeah… of course. No more White Thunder for me.”

  “I’m not just talking about that. You’re going natural, Throam. No more steroids, no more amphetamines or kickers or springs in your step. You get me?”

  Throam looked wounded. “I get you… Sir.”

  “I can’t believe you’d put yourself in this position. That you’d put me in this position.”

  “I just wanted to be better than I am. All the time, that’s all I think about; being the best damned counterpart out there.”

  “And you think this is the way to do it?” Caden had already been shouting, but now he raged. “Pumping that shit into your body? It’s not your size or your strength that make you a great counterpart, Throam. I mean yeah, that all helps, but it’s not that that makes you the best. It’s your reliability.”

  They both went quiet. After a while, Throam uncovered his face, and Caden saw that he looked as though he were emptied out.

  “How is she?”

  “I’m glad you got around to asking that. I was beginning to wonder. She’s okay. Upset, of course, but okay.”

  “I’m so sorry, for all of this.”

  “Good. Now this is what you’re going to say to Eilentes.”

  • • •

  Eilentes glared across the table at Throam. Caden was sat next to him, propped up on his elbows and watching the counterpart’s face.

  “Captain Thande has kindly agreed to ferry us to Meccrace Prime,” said Caden. “You two need to fix whatever you’ve managed to fuck up between you, because I need you both on fighting form.”

  Nobody said anything. Eilentes continued to glare at Throam, who sat and stared at the tabletop. Caden sighed to himself.

  “Throam. Don’t you have something you’d like to say to Eilentes?”

  “Sorry Euryce,” the counterpart said. His chair creaked in protest when he shifted uncomfortably on the seat.

  “Good. Now tell Eilentes what ‘no’ means.”

  “No means no.”

  “And what’s the most you’ll be using from now on?”

  “A nice bottle of lovely water, and some creatine monohydrate if I’m fucking lucky.”

  “Exactly. Now get out of my sight.”

  Throam stood slowly, his eyes fixed on the table. He pushed the chair back with his legs.

  “Wait a moment,” said Eilentes.

  The counterpart paused, not sure whether to sit down again or remain standing. In the end he hovered over the space where the chair had been, halfway between both stances.

  “You think you can just say ‘sorry’, and everything is okay?”

  Throam remained silent.

  “Well it’s not, Rendir. It’s far from okay. You could’ve really hurt me. You wanted to.”

  “I’m really, truly sorry. I was out of my head, that’s all.”

  “That’s like saying ‘oh, sorry I crashed the shuttle. I was so drunk!’ It just doesn’t wash, Rendir. You knew what that shit would do to you when you took it, so you’re responsible for everything you did afterwards.”

  “Euryce—“ Throam began.

  “No, I’m not done yet. I know you’ve got a lot on your mind, Ren. You miss your son, and you want to prove you left him alone for the right reasons. But we — Caden and I — we’re here now. We should matter to you.”

  “You do matter.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Eilentes crossed her arms and sat back in her chair. Her side of the conversation was over.

  Throam walked out of the galley, hanging his head in shame.

  “Don’t batter him with it,” Caden said. “He’ll be beating himself up about this for ages. You don’t need to do a thing.”

  “How did you do that?” Eilentes asked.

  “Easy. I know his mothers.”

  “You should introduce me. Worlds know he never will.”

  “Is that something you still want to happen? It sure didn’t sound that way to me.”

  Eilentes realised he was right.

  — 14 —

  Your Mother’s Son

  The news had reached the City of Peru two days before, but Rendir could still feel that same explosion of pride reverberating in his chest.

  Victory!

  Between the Imperial Navy and the combined MAGA forces, and the efforts of the Shards and Eyes and Ears, the Viskr Junta had been beaten into submission. The Perseus conflict was over at last.

  True, the enemy had not actually conceded defeat. But they had withdrawn their forces from every front in the Perseus theatre, and that came to the same thing.

  Every single level of Peru was alive with music and dancing, and like everyone else in the city Rendir let the elation wash over him.

  “Come on Ren; let’s dance.”

  Hitami grabbed both of his hands and pulled him away from the edge of the plaza. They joined the mass of people wheeling and jigging around in the public space, caught up in the rhythm of the music.

  They held each other’s hands, their arms crossed, and spun faster and faster as the tempo increased. She smiled at him, laughing, her dark hair flying to one side. Everything else became a blur, until all he could see was her joyful face.

  He smiled back and held on, hoping the moment would never end.

  The music reached its climax, then died down. The song was fading into silence.

  “Let’s go somewhere else,” said Rendir.

  “Why?” Hitami said. “This is fun.”

  “I’m not that into dancing.”

  “You did fine just then.”

&
nbsp; “That was just spinning. Anyone can spin.”

  “Oh come on Ren, just one more?”

  “If I have to really dance you’ll see what I mean. I don’t want to embarrass you.”

  She laughed. “Okay, where do you want to go?”

  “The solarium? There’s a barbecue at sundown.”

  “I thought you didn’t like going to the solarium any more,” she said.

  Rendir shrugged. “It’s been two Solars. I guess I’ve got over it.”

  She nodded, and he took her hand and led her away. They wove through the other people in the plaza — those sober enough to move aside and those too drunk to notice them — and came to the main thoroughfare that connected all the primary zones of Level 230.

  The people began to thin out. Most of those they saw were moving swiftly between one party and another, seeking the warmth of the celebrations. A few leaned heavily against walls, groaning, and Rendir could not help but laugh at the one fully grown man he saw heaving into a wall garden.

  After they had passed him by, Rendir pulled Hitami towards the wall. He held both of her hands in his.

  “Ren…?”

  He leaned in to kiss her.

  “No, Ren,” she said. She pulled her hands away from him.

  “What’s up?”

  “I’m not… I don’t feel the same way as you.”

  “It didn’t look that way before. Why are you out with me then?”

  “You’re my friend, Ren,” Hitami said. “But that’s it. I like Josué.”

  “That bully? Are you serious? He’s horrible. How on earth could you want to go out with him? What’s wrong with me?”

  “He’s not the way you think he is. He’s growing up, Ren. He’s maturing.”

  “Why are you out here with me then?”

  “Like I said, you’re my friend.”

  “Where’s Josué?”

  “He’s got some family thing on.”

  “Right, so I’m just keeping his seat warm am I?”

  “No, that’s not it at all.”

  “Kinda feels like it is.”

  “Well, you’re wrong.”

  “I can’t believe you’d choose that bully over me.”

  “Would you stop calling him a bully? He learned his lesson at the solarium, Ren. Some people actually change.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No, come on. I want to know.”

  “Fine. Sometimes you’re the most grown-up guy I know. But most of the time… well, you can be very boyish, Rendir.”

  “I’m fourteen,” he said. “We’re fourteen. What do you expect?”

  “Next year we’ll be told to make our decisions,” Hitami said. “To decide our pathways. It’s time to grow up.”

  “I can do that.”

  “I know you can,” she said. “But I don’t think our paths will be going in the same direction.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not going to surprise anyone when you go off to join the MAGA forces, Ren. But that’s not what I want for me.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want to command a starship.”

  • • •

  It was dark by the time Rendir returned home. Lamis and Peshal were still up, both of them reading by the light of lamps.

  Lamis looked up as he entered. “Hi Ren. Had a good time?”

  Peshal placed an old book in her lap, and just smiled.

  “Fine,” he said.

  “I think we should have gone out too,” Lamis said.

  “A full night of merry-making was quite enough for me,” said Peshal.

  “That’s not what I meant,” said Lamis. “What’s wrong, Ren?”

  “Just… disappointed.”

  “With what?”

  “My friend, Hitami—“

  “The pretty one?”

  “Yes, the pretty one. I thought she was interested in me, and she’s not.”

  Lamis started to smile, and turned away.

  “How is that funny?”

  “Sorry Ren,” Lamis said. “When you get to my age, you’ll think it’s funny too.”

  “I’m not your age though, am I?”

  “I suppose not.”

  She patted the couch, and he went to sit next to her.

  “Do you think I need to grow up?”

  Peshal answered first. “Little Man, I think there’s plenty of time ahead of you for that.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought too.”

  “Who told you that, anyway?”

  “Hitami. She said we’ll have to decide our pathways next year.”

  “Well, she’s right. You’ll be expected to choose what you want to do with your life. Assuming you’re given the choice, of course. You won’t be given options you aren’t suited to.”

  “So then I do need to start growing up.”

  Lamis sighed. “Not necessarily, Ren. As long as you can do what you need to do, nobody is going to care how mature you are.”

  “Hitami cares.”

  “Hitami is just a child still.”

  “But she wants to be the captain of a starship,” said Rendir. “And she’ll do it too. She knows exactly where her life is going to take her.”

  Peshal came to sit next to Rendir on the couch. “And what do you want to be, Little Man?”

  “I don’t know exactly,” he said. “But I’ve always wanted to be a soldier of some sort.”

  “Now Ren, we’ve talked about this,” said Lamis. “We don’t really want you leaving us to go and die on some remote world, out there in the black.”

  “What else am I going to do? I just don’t have the math skills to get into the Fleet. And I know what you’re going to say, but I’m not smart enough to train as a Shard.”

  “There are plenty of other careers you could choose,” said Lamis. “You don’t have to go into the military.”

  “Yes, I do,” said Rendir. “I’ve always wanted to. I need it. You know that.”

  Lamis and Peshal looked at each other.

  “Maybe we should have had this conversation a bit sooner,” said Lamis.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We know how much it means to you, Ren, but we don’t really want you in the military. We’d be worried sick the whole time.”

  “But it’s what I want.”

  “And it will be your choice,” said Peshal. “But when the time comes to make that decision, just remember that it affects us too.”

  • • •

  “Chim-Bo-Te! Chim-Bo-Te!”

  The chant of the home crowd drowned out everyone else, and Rendir felt his heart beating faster and faster.

  Twenty seconds remained.

  Coach had used a selection sacrifice to ensure it was Rendir who represented the City of Peru in this match. Coach would not be able to choose another player for the remainder of the tournament — it would have to be a blind pick in every match — and Rendir was determined that the gamble should succeed.

  Ten seconds left.

  He glanced to his right, and saw the Chiclayo player preparing herself to sprint towards the centre of the arena.

  On his left, the player for Team Pucallpa was also preparing himself. He had both fists clenched.

  The Puno player was hidden from his sight by the central hopper, directly opposite him on the other side of the arena.

  Just three opponents at amateur level. It gave him hope for a reasonably strong victory.

  Five seconds.

  The chant was louder now, faster. Most of the crowd had come from the City of Peru; the advantage of a home game. Although the tower city was the social heart of what was once a nation, there were still major towns farther afield which held on to their regional pride. Enough pride to keep the tournaments running, Solar after Solar.

  The klaxon sounded, loud even above the chanting of ten thousand voices.

  Rendir launched himself forwards, running as hard as he could for the
centre of the arena. He heard the thud of an air cannon, looked up, and saw the ball rocket straight up from the hopper.

  It felt as though an age passed before the ball began to descend again, and he slowed down as he tried to work out where it would land.

  Someone hit him from the side, hard. Chiclayo had tackled him.

  Rendir fell sideways, her unexpected weight toppling him, and stumbled just in time to stop himself hitting the ground. He glanced up, saw the ball, and pushed her back.

  She punched him in the face before she fell.

  “Chic-Lay-Oooooo!”

  The ball was coming down right on top of him.

  Pucallpa was there in an instant, leaping towards Rendir to push him off balance. Rendir hopped sideways, and Pucallpa’s momentum carried him past. He stopped, turned to confront Rendir, and then disappeared downwards. Chiclayo had his ankle in both of her hands.

  Rendir caught the ball after it bounced off the floor in front of him, and rolled it along the ground, straight back towards the hopper that encircled the base of the cannon.

  Ahead, coming from the centre of the arena, Puno was thundering towards him, and he was big.

  Rendir chased after the ball, trying to gain ground before Puno reached it himself. He overtook the ball, ducked down at the last moment, and slammed his shoulder into Puno’s stomach.

  The bigger teenager fell to one side, and Rendir kicked the ball onwards.

  “Chim-Bo-TE!”

  He dashed after it, but a hand grabbed his shoulder. It was Chiclayo, trying to pull him back. Pucallpa punched her between the shoulders, and she turned to hit him.

  Rendir realised he was inside the goal zone. He picked up the ball, ran for the hopper, and slammed the ball into it.

  The commentator’s response drowned out the cheers. “Perrrrrfect Deliverrrrry!”

  Rendir raised his arms above his head, and drank in the applause of the crowds.

  “Ren-dir! Ren-dir!”

  The new chant was spreading outwards, travelling across the stands like a wave.

  The cannon fired again, and the ball was back in play.

  He was the farthest of them all when the ball hit the ground, and ran as hard as he could to catch up. Pucallpa and Puno were punching each other on the floor, and by the time Rendir reached the ball, Chiclayo was holding it aloft in a scoring zone. The ball glowed brightly to show she had proper custody of it.