Five Empires: An Epic Space Opera
Page 54
Instead, she pressed her hands around the guard’s neck, choking him. It took an eternity for the simian to die. When his body finally went limp, Fusar remembered to take a breath of her own. She stood to her full height, exhausted.
An alien smell assaulted her nostrils. It was unlike anything she’d experienced. Smoky heavy metals combined something like ozone. It clung to her throat, even through the helm. Must have been the unrefined onbantium in the cargo hold.
“Can you stop calling me that, asshole?” Fusar said in between breaths. “Go on, get this thing moving. I command you.”
Jake was already in the cabin. He coaxed the engine back to life and bumped the reverse jolter a few times to get the barge back into the water. The vessel was immediately peppered with plasma fire from the dead field generator, which lay less than a two-hundred yards to the north. A company of Cavan infantrymen stood in front of the force field.
Exploiting the hesitation, Jake accelerated to maximum speed. Before long the barge was bouncing from swell to swell.
Fusar nodded. Jake withdrew to the rear of the vessel and climbed into a small laser turret. He turned it around as quickly as he could, protected by a curved pane of clear plasteel. Fusar’s hopes surged as pink laser blasts drilled through the simians on the eastern lakeshore. Jake strafed with ice cold accuracy, systematically working through an entire company of enemy troops.
Heart hammering wildly, she waded to the shoreline. There were no enemy troops, but no sign of Jake either. The dead field generator loomed ahead like a coiled serpent. Its shield hummed defiantly - Fusar could see the baton-shaped power nodes positioned at regular intervals along its base.
“Jake! Where are you?”
came the impatient reply.
Fusar did as she was told, using all four of her remaining photon charges.
“I’m done,” she reported.
Plasma blasts rang out as Fusar hurried back to the vessel. Jake had obviously run into more trouble on the far side of the generator. Praying that he was OK, she found the barge lying at an awkward angle on the rocky shore. She pushed with all her might until the thing slid back into the water. Jet-black onbantium was seeping into the pristine reservoir and turning it the color of soot.
Fusar had the engine running by the time the duellist made it back.
The barge surged over the glistening water as Mandie’s heavenly plasma bolts sailed back over their heads. The naked field generator was pummeled mercilessly in a series of ripe, delicious explosions.
Jake and Fusar turned in unison to watch the show. The generator burst outward in all directions, sending a plume of thick smoke into the azure sky. Tongues of arcing flame sizzled into the cold water as quantum cells were ruptured.
“A beautiful thing,” Fusar murmured. At that moment her shoulder didn’t seem so painful and she was content to forget all the mindless brutality she’d experienced.
Jake helped Fusar onto the upper walkway, where there was no sign of enemy activity.
Now that the dead field had been deactivated, what remained of the attacking PIN fleet was on the move. Over a hundred ballistic shuttles, each holding twenty-five paladins, closed in on the Embank facility to the south. Fusar couldn’t imagine how many had died up there. For her own sanity she chose to focus on the triumphant advance.
The surviving PINs opened fire on the valley below the dam. A stream of concentrated fire rained down on the Embank sphere, which deflected each strike with little difficulty. As expected, the thing was protected by a sturdy force field.
Jake removed his helm and tossed it over the side. The women did the same, glad to be free of the stifling equipment.
“That’s a mesh shield,” Mandie said. “I’ve seen those at high security Cavan facilities. It would take a bucketful of photon bombs to rupture it.”
The defending garrison seemed to think so too, massing inside the shield and forming a ring around the Embank.
“They withdrew not long after you left,” Mandie said. “They figure they’re safe in there.”
“They’re probably right,” Jake said.
Fusar could tell he was growing more frustrated by the second. Even though a significant portion of the PIN fleet had survived, the shuttles didn’t have the firepower to take out the Embank. Not even if every sapper had the time and opportunity to lay several hundred photon charges around the base of the force shield.
“I’m gonna change my boots,” Fusar said tiredly, heading off in search of her regular Jaj pair. The simian grav boots were messing with her balance now that the dead field generator had been destroyed. When she’d finished changing her boots, the approaching PIN fleet loomed large in the sky.
“That’s odd,” Jake observed. “None of them are landing in the valley.”
It was true. The PINs were changing course, looking to land at sites away from the Embank.
“What the fuck …?” Mandie muttered incredulously.
Fusar realized she hadn’t heard from General Teronde for some time.
“What’s your status, General?” she said, using her wrist pad com. No reply, just ominous static.
“General Teronde - do you copy?”
came the reply. It was definitely the General, but he uncharacteristically harried.
“Fuck me …” Jake muttered. Fusar followed his gaze - three Jaj warships were entering high orbit. Two snub-nosed ramming ships and the Resolute itself. The enormous vessels looked to have taken plenty of damage and were clearly in jeopardy.
76
“Sir,” Jake said, “Are you control of the Resolute?”
Fusar forgot to breathe in. The Milkmen? Jake unleashed a stream of invective, slamming his pistol repeatedly against the dam wall.
There was no doubt it - the two smaller Jaj warships were making straight for the Embank.
“That’s fucking crazy,” Jake said. “The milkmen have control of three of our warships. Can’t they just leave us alone?”
“It’s the only way to break the Embank,” Fusar said quietly. Jake and Mandie looked at her as if she had a contagious disease.
“I’m sorry, but it is. Every soldier on those ships knew they might die today.”
Fusar’s companions had no reply and she didn’t expect one. As the warships accelerated into steep dives, she realized that she’d finally become what the Jaj needed her to be - a leader. Jake pulled Mandie down behind the parapet as the warships struck the flickering Embank orb.
Though the flare of the explosion hurt her
eyes, Fusar forced herself to watch. The warships were specifically designed to ram, their snub noses stacked with lead plates for lasting penetration. Both vessels pierced the Embank mercilessly, meeting in the middle with cataclysmic force. Fusar was standing a good half mile from the facility but was almost thrown off her feet.
She got a glimpse of a thousand Cavan soldiers being laid out flat before a billowing cloud smothered the entire valley. Several lightning forks flickered angrily in the maelstrom before fading away. At length the dust cloud drifted further south to reveal a scene of utter devastation.
Nothing remained of the Embank orb. What had been the beating heart of the Cava05 Technocracy was now ashes. The warships had careened into each other before sinking into the ground. What remained could only be described as a chaotic tangle. It was difficult to tell where one ship ended and the other began. Not a single simian stirred, not even in death spasm. Their defeat was disturbingly complete.
The Resolute hung in the sky like a guilty child, neither advancing to support nor fleeing in haste.
Jaj patrols appeared on the edges of the valley and proceeded to investigate the wasteland.
“That’s it, then,” Fusar said. “We need to rejoin the battle in orbit. Once the facility is secure we should -”
“It’s over, Fusar,” Jake said with a trace of irritation. “I’m not sure you fully appreciate what we’ve done. The simians are conditioned to rely on communal directives from birth. Their minds are geared that way. Without the Embank, their morale will be shattered. Confusion will reign. Perhaps even civil war. I can’t see them risin’ again for decades. Perhaps ever.”
Fusar listened to Jake with growing anger. He was right, she didn’t appreciate the full ramifications of what they’d achieved. And yet it needed to be this way. Surely Jake could see that?
“You choose now to grow a conscience?” Fusar said in a tight voice.
Jake sighed. Mandie turned away.
“All soldiers do, usually after the battle’s over,” he said tiredly, not sounding like himself at all. “Politicians, on the other hand …”
Fusar glared at Jake for his vile implication. As she searched his strangely dead eyes, she knew that something had broken between them. She wanted to believe it was his burgeoning relationship with Mandie, but the truth was closer to home. It was her. She was becoming an Empress and she knew it.
What had seemed absurd just days ago now seemed like a calling. Jake Le Sondre had done his job and was now bitterly acknowledging the boundaries of their future lives. It occurred to Fusar that he’d probably been dreading this moment for a while now. Deep down, she’d also known it was coming, but was shocked at how quickly it had actually arrived.
“Go,” she said quietly, in the eerie aftermath the Embank’s violent destruction. “Get the fuck out of here. I don’t want to see either of you for a while.”
Fusar didn’t know where the emotion was coming from. She told herself it was Jake’s fault. The truth was she was still in love and needed someone to blame for it. Now, as she rode the comedown of a great victory, seemed like the perfect time to do it.
“Don’t, Fusar,” Mandie said. “You know we love you.”
“I do,” Fusar replied irritably. “Only makes it harder.”
Jake stepped forward, his face a mask of pain.
“Fusar,” he murmured. “Sweetheart. Finding you is the best thing I’ve ever done. You saved me. You gave me purpose. I’ll never forget that.”
Fusar closed her eyes to stop the tears, but they squeezed themselves out anyway.
A squad of paladins reached the top of the dam wall and advanced toward them.
“Empress,” said the captain. “I’m glad we found you.”
Picking up on the tense atmosphere, the paladins surrounded Fusar protectively. The Empress couldn’t endure the painful conversation with Jake and was simply too tired to set the soldiers straight.
Backing away slowly, Jake and Mandie made their way toward the west end of the dam. A bass hum drew Fusar’s attention - a shuttle descended from the underside of the Resolute and made directly for the dam wall.
Dread pluming in his guts, Fusar waited patiently for the craft to land. A port gangway was lowered and a clutch of naked men emerged. Their skin and eyes were bone white. Occasionally patches of ivory skin would pulse and become translucent before clouding over again.
There was something disturbingly unnatural about the way these men moved. Their manner was disarmingly casual, which was dangerous in itself - Fusar knew full well the Milkmen were powerful enough to bring down her paladins in a heartbeat.
The Empress stepped forward.
“You will take me to the Resolute. Now.”
She knew what had to be done. She’d always known. Probably since Jake suggested she was a Catalyst.
The Milkman at the front of the cluster smiled. He was probably the swarthiest of the lot, yet had a weird serenity to him. His heavy, other-worldly presence seemed to consume the available light.
“I am glad that you see,” he said in a measured baritone. “It is important that you see. Catalyst.”
“Ma’am,” the paladin captain murmured. “We can’t let you go with them.”
“You will because I demand it,” Fusar said fiercely. “Tell Senator Barras that I have gone to deal with the Norgaardi. Do you understand?”
“Yes … yes ma’am.”
Jaj paladins were far too disciplined to question an Imperial command. They watched on miserably as Fusar followed the Milkmen into the shuttle. With a shock she realized that one of them was Michael Danner. His transformation appeared to be complete - he looked at Fusar without an emotional connection of any kind. It was probably just as well he didn’t cross paths with Jake. Seeing Michael like that may well have broken the duellist’s heart.
“Fusar!” cried the duellist from the far side of the shuttle.
Fusar was again forced to bite back her tears as the port gangway was raised. She seated herself in the plush executive cabin and strapped herself in. The shuttle was flown with relaxed competence into Rivian high orbit, where all manner of wreckage drifted over the planet. Fusar found she was immune to the faded horror. A cluster of Cavan node ships hung several clicks away, but did not appear to be a threat. Jake was right - the fight had deserted the enemy.
The shuttle entered the Resolute’s diplomatic hangar bay.
Numb with exhaustion, Fusar felt like she was walking on air as she was led across the hangar floor and into a labyrinth of corridors.
“You will release General Teronde and his staff,” she said with effortless authority.
“I cannot,” the swarthy Milkman said. “They have already been executed.”
“You have displeased me greatly,” Fusar said, saving her grief for later. “I’m glad that the end is near.”
The Milkman looked more amused than anything as he motioned for his men to continue to the bridge.
“As are we, Empress. As are we.”
77
Fusar’s destination had no name.
She could see the Resolute’s location on the nav screen. According to every reliable chart in the galaxy, it hadn’t been explored. It existed far beyond the outer reaches of Cavan space. The Milkmen called their system Pandora. The sun was a curious beast, a weak yellow star with charcoal-colored blemishes.
The swarthy milkman, who went by the name of The Brawler, refused to answer Fusar’s persistent questions. Michael Danner simply ignored her completely.
Since her recovery from drift travel, Fusar had spent days on the bridge poring over nav records and staring blankly into space.
So much had happened she needed to let her mind and body catch up with her surging reality. Of course, she didn’t know much about this little sojourn with the milkmen. She wasn’t even sure if she would make it back to Ebessa alive. So why was she drawn to this place? There was no logical answer, but Fusar knew in her heart that she was on the right path. Whateve
r that meant. It was hardly a scientific analysis, but it was all she had.
And the milkmen? Well, they’d been darting in and out of the affairs of other species for a while now. Even now, in such close proximity, they remained profoundly enigmatic. They were capable of extreme brutality without the slightest hint of empathy. On the other hand, they had never shown the slightest self-interest.
Except when it came to accumulating trophies. First there’d been the Tranquility, the Aegisi flagship. Next came the forced acquisition of the prized Caravan of Light, along with a key Cavan node ship. Last of all, above Rivia’s battle-scarred face, the Milkmen had assumed control of the Resolute. Each major player in the galaxy had lost a prize asset to the Milkmen. For what purpose? Vanity? Avarice? Nothing the milkmen did or said suggested anything so base.
And yet the violent enigma continued to terrorize all and sundry, supremely confident in their purpose.
Too battle-hardened and jaded for adrenalized emotions like panic and fear, Fusar was nonetheless cultivating a strong knot of dread. The Milkmen themselves didn’t trigger the feeling, more the knowledge that everything would soon be revealed to her. Her only consolation was that the process, when it happened, would be brutally brief. The Milkmen could never be accused of nostalgia or hyperbole.
On the third day after falling from drift space, the Resolute approached a small, crumbling moon on the edge of the Pandora system. A decrepit base hove into view. The architecture was a mixture of Nostromic and Aegisian influences. For some reason she felt slightly disappointed. Perhaps she’d been expecting something dramatic, a little more in line with the Milkmen’s cryptic reputation.
“Our home base,” The Brawler intoned, practically begging Fusar to turn her nose up at it. She refused to give him the satisfaction.
The Resolute was taken a little further out, to a graveyard of sorts. Fusar pressed her hands against the cockpit as they passed a horribly muted Caravan of Light. There it was, one of the Modern Wonders of the galaxy. Lonely and abandoned. Beyond the Caravan sat the Milkmen’s other trophies. Prime Aegisi, Cava05 and Jaj warships. All of them silent like graves.