Queen of Demons (Chaos of the Covenant Book 7)

by M. R. Forbes

  “Do not be concerned with the Prophets, Disciple,” Lucifer said. “I have dealt with them myself, and even now their armies come to me. You have done well, and have not failed me yet. The Gate is all that matters. Send me the coordinates of its location and bring me the souls to open it. Then we will return to our galaxy. Then I will destroy the One. Then our people will be free. You will be my most honored Disciple, Selvig Thraven. You will have a permanent place in the histories of the Seraphim.”

  Thraven felt his heart pounding at the words, his emotions stirred in a way they hadn’t been in years. “Of course, Father. It will be as you command. I will not fail you.”

  “No, you will not,” Lucifer said. “Do not be concerned with the futile efforts of the Sharders, Disciple. The glory will be ours. Nothing in the galaxy can stand against me.”

  “Yes, Father,” Thraven said. “Is Abigail Cage dead, then?”

  “Not yet. I allowed her to escape. She is on her way back to Shardspace in a Harvester. She will try to stop us, but she will fall. It will all be as I have Promised.”

  “I should like to destroy her myself, with your permission, Father.”

  “If the Chosen of the Shard challenges you, then you will put her to an end. That is my command, Disciple.”

  “So it shall be done.”

  The Blood of the Font began to shrink, the Bloodline closing. Thraven watched the silhouette of the Father lose cohesion, sinking slowly back to the Font, the power subsiding with it. He felt a sudden emptiness at its loss, and a painful desire to be near it once more.

  The Father was alive and on his way to the Gate. All that was Promised would come to pass. There could be no question about it now. He felt the hope and joy in his heart, a sense of excitement he had thought he would never experience.

  He would return to Earth and capture the souls for the Father. He would return to the Gate, and together they would first free Elysium, and then rule over it.

  Don Pallimo be damned. Captain Mann be damned. Abigail Cage be damned.

  There was nothing that could stop them now.

  Nothing.

  29

  “We’re approaching the inner system, sir,” Captain Davlyn said.

  General Sylvan Kett nodded. “Take us out of FTL.”

  “Aye, sir,” Davlyn replied. “Disengage the disterium reactors.”

  “Disengaging, sir,” Ensign Sil replied, adjusting the controls. The hum of the High Noon changed almost imperceptibly, the machines that converted disterium crystal into gas slowing to a stop. The battleship slowed with it, re-entering the universe in a cloud, immediately surrounded by the rest of the ships in the fleet.

  “What do we have from the sensors?” Sylvan asked.

  “A faint disterium trail, sir,” Ensign Card replied. “At least a week old. The signature is consistent with Republic ships matching the composition of the Nova battle group. I’m also picking up a debris field two AU from our position. The spread suggests the fighting took place three days ago, sixteen AU away.”

  “Somebody got into a tangle with the Nova battle group,” Davlyn said. “Are there any signs of active vessels in range?”

  “Negative, Captain,” Card replied. “We may be alone out here.”

  “Open a near-field channel,” Sylvan said. “Let’s be sure we’re the only ones home.”

  “Aye, sir. Channel open.”

  “Republic forces, this is General Sylvan Kett aboard the battleship High Noon. Do you read me? I repeat, Republic forces, this is General Sylvan Kett aboard the battleship High Noon. I’ve got a battle group of my own here, and we’re ready to take back our home.”

  Sylvan looked out into the black, waiting for a response. He had brought the fleet out of FTL early in order to rally whatever ships might be hiding in the area, bringing them into the fold. But were there any ships remaining?

  He repeated the statement and again received no reply.

  “Captain, sound a red alert across the fleet. All hands to battle stations.”

  “Aye, sir,” Davlyn replied. “Battle group Charlie, this is the High Noon. All hands to battle stations. I repeat, all hands to battle stations.”

  Red strobes began to blink on the bridge, and klaxons could be heard further down the corridors.

  Sylvan lowered his head at the use of his wife’s name. Of course, he had named his army after his fallen love. She had brought him out of the darkness and made him aware of the Nephilim and their plans for both humankind and the other species that lived in this part of the galaxy. She had shown him how corrupt the Republic was becoming, and how he could use his position and reputation to help prevent the galaxy from destroying itself. She had borne him a daughter, a beautiful daughter, and given him all that she was for as long as she survived.

  And she would live again. They had agreed to return the Ruby synth to Cage, but there were plenty of synths back on Earth. Plenty of bodies that her configuration could occupy. When this war was won, when Thraven was defeated, then he would be able to bring her back.

  Until then he fought in her name and with her spirit, as did the rest of his army.

  “Captain, prepare the fleet to return to FTL. Set coordinates for Earth.”

  “Aye, sir,” Davlyn said. “Battle group Charlie, prepare disterium reactors and set coordinates. We jump for Earth on my mark.”

  A series of “ayes” followed from each of the commanders of the fleet.

  “It would have been nice if someone out here could have given us an idea what we’re jumping into,” Ensign Card said.

  “We’re Navy, Ensign,” Davlyn said. “When the General says jump, we ask how far.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Sylvan smiled at the statement. He wasn’t technically in charge of anything on the High Noon, but the crew deferred to him as their rebellion’s de facto leader.

  He opened his mouth, ready to give the order.

  “Sir,” Ensign Card said. “We have activity in quadrant three. Sensors are reading a reactor spike.”

  “Friend or foe?” Davlyn asked.

  “How can I tell, sir?” Card replied. “We’re all supposed to be on the same side.”

  “General Kett,” a frightened voice said through the near-field comm. “This is Captain Dorbisi of the cruiser Shiloh. We require immediate assistance. Help us, please.”

  Sylvan scanned the field ahead of them. He didn’t see anything. “Where is her ship?”

  A projection of the stars around them appeared, a red spot marking the source of the transmission. It had come around the far side of the nearest star and was heading their way.

  “The solar radiation was blocking near field communications and sensor readings,” Davlyn said.

  “Set a course to intercept,” Sylvan said. “Prepare to launch fighters.”

  “Aye, General,” Davlyn said, quickly delegating the orders.

  Sylvan kept his attention on the red dot, watching as it multiplied. The High Noon’s computer showed everything as friendly, even if it might not be. Within seconds, six more targets had appeared from the other side of the star.

  “The Nova, sir,” Ensign Card said.

  “Ally or enemy?” Davlyn said. “Captain Dorbisi?”

  “General Kett,” a new voice said. “This is Commander Ng of the battleship Nova. The Shiloh is a traitor to the Republic and sympathetic to the enemy. Her disterium reactor is damaged, and she must not be allowed to escape.”

  “Lies,” Captain Dorbisi said. “I am a loyal member of the Republic. A Rudin of the highest composition. High Noon, if you are a friend to the Rebellion, please help us.”

  “Shit,” Captain Davlyn said, looking back at Sylvan. “Sir, which one of them is telling the truth?”

  Sylvan wasn’t sure. “Shiloh seems to be all alone out here, while the Nova has numbers,” he said. “I wish we knew whose side the ships in the debris field were on.” He stared out of the viewport and into space. The ships were still small specks in the distance, bu
t they were closing in a hurry.

  What were the odds they would come out of FTL in the middle of a chase? It wasn’t impossible, but with all of the emptiness of the galaxy to contend with, they happened to fall right into the middle of something? There was obvious evidence of a battle, and it wasn’t without precedent that the Shiloh could have broken away and started running for her life. Plus, Rudin weren’t known for being anything but proper.

  Still, there was something about it that wasn’t sitting right. It was too convenient. Almost laughably convenient.

  As though they had been waiting for someone to arrive.

  And hadn’t Dorbisi called out to him by name, even though they were on the other side of the star, the near-field comms blocked by the radiation?

  Hadn’t Ng done the same?

  “Ensign Card, tighten your scans. Tell me if there’s a comm satellite nearby, perhaps hidden in the debris field.”

  “Sir?”

  “Do it.”

  “Scanning, sir.” Sylvan rubbed his chin, waiting a few seconds for the reply. “Aye, sir. I’m reading three active satellites within the field.”

  Three?

  “It’s a trap,” Sylvan said. “A fragging trap.”

  He said it at the same time the initial volley launched from the Nova, a dozen warheads rocketing away without warning. They were on the perfect trajectory to hit the Shiloh, and on the perfect trajectory to hit the fleet.

  “Evasive maneuvers,” Sylvan said.

  ‘Sir, the torpedoes are targeting the Shiloh.”

  “No, they aren’t.”

  The Shiloh’s vector changed suddenly, the ship rolling to the right. The ships in Battle group Charlie were each making maneuvers of their own, trying to spread away from the attack.

  The warheads reached them, half of them missing their targets, the other half striking unshielded hulls. Sylvan cursed as three of his ships vomited burning atmosphere from the impact site, lights flickering as conduits were broken and reconnected before falling dark for good.

  “Return fire,” Sylvan said. “Target the Nova.”

  “Aye, General,” Davlyn said.

  “Sir, the enemy is altering course,” Ensign Sil said. “They’re targeting the Seedships.”

  Of course, they were. He looked at the projection. The Shiloh was making a straight line for one of the Seedships, firing everything it had on the vessel. Its shields absorbed the attack easily, catching the firepower of two other warships at the same time.

  A blue plume of disterium appeared behind it, a dozen new ships coming into view.

  “No,” Sylvan cursed.

  He knew there would be more ships coming. Why else would there have been three satellites? Thraven had guessed he would be cautious, coming out of FTL ahead of Earth to get a feel for the situation. Charmeine had warned him about being too afraid to commit his units. He cared too much about his soldiers, too much about keeping them safe.

  It made him predictable. It made him stupid.

  The intercepting warships unleashed a barrage of torpedoes, all of them aimed at the Seedship. It caught them valiantly in its shields, deflecting blow after blow, detonation after detonation without succumbing to the assault.

  “Target the Shiloh,” Sylvan shouted. “Everything we have.”

  A stream of plasma and lasers lanced out toward the cruiser, bolt after bolt tearing away at its shields and armor, bits and pieces of slagged armor pouring from it as it remained on course. The enemy continued firing on the Seedship, hitting it with everything they had with a singular purpose.

  Break through the shields.

  Sylvan slammed his fist on the nearest surface as their efforts succeeded, a pair of torpedoes detonating against the blue web of energy and then the next striking the hull. The Shiloh was being torn apart, but it was still in motion, every second bringing it that much closer to the target, a speeding bullet that they had no hope of stopping.

  “Captain Davlyn, get the fleet out of here,” Sylvan said before the inevitable had taken place.

  “Sir?” Davlyn replied.

  “We can’t win this fight,” Sylvan said. “We need to retreat.”

  “Retreat? We haven’t reached Earth.”

  The Shiloh slammed into the side of the Seedship, the front of it collapsing against the hull until sheer momentum began to carry her through. Both ships started breaking apart, sending debris exploding outward and into the midst of the battle.

  “We can’t win,” Sylvan said, shaking his head. Tactical genius? It was a lie built on a few lucky maneuvers.

  He had caused hundreds to die as if he had killed them himself. He wished he was back on Azure. Back with Charmeine and Jequn where it was safe. He wished he could pretend he would be a hero one day for a little while longer.

  But he wasn’t a hero.

  “I said retreat, Captain. That ship was invaluable, and now it’s dust.”

  “Sir?”

  “Are you disobeying orders?”

  Davlyn ignored him.

  “Sil, bring us around five degrees to port. Scabbard, bring your group to mark Delta. Scramble the fighters. This isn’t over yet.”

  “I gave you an order,” Sylvan said, rounding on the Captain. “How dare you betray me.”

  “Betray you?” Davlyn said. “I only agreed to follow you because I thought you were trying to save the Republic. We lose one ship, and you’re ready to run? Queenie wanted so much to believe in you, General, but it was Gant and the others who had it right. You’re a fragging coward. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a war to fight.”

  Davlyn turned back to his station. “Dorn, vector toward mark Epsilon. Target the support cruisers. And get those damned fighters out there.”

  Sylvan stood on the bridge, his mind a chaotic blur. He watched the Captain give orders, crisp and concise, his own head too fogged to make sense of them. He shifted his gaze to the projection, observing as their blue dots began to flank the red ones, moving into position to use their overwhelming numbers against the enemy. Battle group Charlie didn’t retreat. They kept fighting. The war didn’t end.

  He closed his eyes. He had failed Charmeine. He had failed Jequn. He had failed himself. He had been a legend within the Republic Armed Services long before he had been a traitor. What was he now?

  Captain Davlyn was right.

  He was a coward.

  He continued watching until the last ship in the Nova battle group was destroyed. Not once did they attempt to retreat. Not once did they make a motion to surrender.

  “Ensign Card, what’s the status of the fleet?” he heard Davlyn say.

  “Sir, we lost nine ships. Three more are critically damaged and out of the fight. The High Noon took minor damage, but nothing that will keep us from kicking the enemy’s tail. The Nova battle group is eliminated.”

  “You’re saying we won, Ensign?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Good. Call for Sergeant Mox. Have him escort the General from the bridge.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Davlyn stood and looked at him. Sylvan felt his face flush, the heat of his shame spreading. His eyes dropped to the Captain’s sidearm. He could end it quickly.

  The coward’s way out.

  “Captain, I’m sorry,” he said. “I-”

  “Sergeant Mox will escort you to your quarters General,” Davlyn said. “You’re to remain there until this is over, and then Queenie will decide what to do with you. We’ll take things from here.”

  Sylvan felt his mouth open, but he didn’t speak.

  He couldn’t think of anything to say.

  30

  “It’s official, Captain,” Quark said, exiting the cockpit of the Quasar and joining him in the common area near the center. “The Galnet is offline.”

  Olus nodded somberly. It was a victory for them to cut off Thraven’s communications with the rest of his forces, but it was also a loss. He would no longer be able to reach back to General Kett or any of the assets tha
t had been given access to Gant’s subnet. He also wouldn’t be able to contact Abbey, if and when she made it back to this side of the universe.

  Maybe that was a good thing. The longer he could keep her from learning that Thraven had her daughter, the better.

  “Judging by my estimates, the good General and his fleet should be reaching the inner system any minute now,” Quark continued, sitting at the table opposite him. “Where’d Nibia get off to, anyway?”

  “She’s down in medical taking care of Sergeant Capper,” the Pallimo synth said. It was standing in the corner of the room, acting less like it was trying to be a human than any of the other Pallimo duplicates.

  Quark raised an eyebrow. “Capper looked pretty good to me when we brought him in, considering he’d been shot six times.”

  They had been surprised to find the Sergeant still alive, once Thraven’s units had been dealt with, and the Riders had combed the area to collect their dead. The fighting on Oberon had been relatively light, most of it taking place out of sight and mind of the general populace. They had no idea their planet was being run by the artificially intelligent ghost of Don Pallimo.

  They also had no idea how close they had come to losing both.

  “Kett is on his own at this point,” Olus said. “He should have more than enough ships to regain control of Earth’s orbit, and enough resistance on the ground to help him get the surface back under solid Republic control.”

  “Assuming he’s half as smart as the legends say he is,” Quark said.

  “He was smart enough to give us the Brimstone.”

  “And we were dumb enough to leave it back at Oberon.”

  “Firepower isn’t going to help us where we’re headed.”

  Quark laughed. “I’m a fish out of water where we’re headed, Captain. I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

  “Violence isn’t the only way to solve things.”

  “Maybe it isn’t the only way, but I’ve found that it’s the most efficient, least boring way. In any case, we aren’t completely deaf and blind out here. My girl Sykes already got the Quasar’s comms recalibrated to the Haulnet. As long as there’s a Hauler vessel within a light-year, we can transmit.”