by M. R. Forbes
Something hit Lorenti, forcing her head to snap back sharply. Her body collapsed, the stream breaking away from her in an instant.
“Frag,” Olus said.
A bullet? The Gift? He didn’t know. Either way, someone had shut her up before she could further incite the Council. Before she could reveal Tridium’s participation in Thraven’s Great Return.
The feed went dark, the public stream shut down before any more violence was shown. He could imagine what kind of chaos was occurring.
Or maybe he couldn’t. If there was a Venerant or Evolent on the Council, who knew what could be happening?
Either way, his plan to try to get Lorenti out of the crosshairs was never going to materialize. They had dealt with her more swiftly and more publicly than he had imagined.
If Thraven was watching, he was surely going to be beside himself with rage.
Olus loved that thought.
“Goillisi, are you still with me?” Olus asked.
“Yes, Captain.”
“I need anonymous passage off Earth. Can you arrange it?”
“For a price.”
“The price is your life, you wormy piece of shit,” Olus snapped.
“Fine. I’ll include it in your original fee as a thank you for your business.”
“Whatever. Standby.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Olus killed the overlay, lifting the goggles off his head so Hayley could see his eyes.
“We’re going to get out of here, okay? If I can, I’ll get you to your mom.”
“I like that plan,” Hayley replied.
“Good. Let’s go.”
9
Olus and Hayley kept moving through the plant, tracing the corridors back toward the entrance. He kept hoping he would find Pahaliah out there. He kept hoping she was still fighting, and that maybe her TCU had been damaged, or the comm link had somehow short-circuited. It was a rare occurrence, but it wasn’t impossible, and after what had happened with Zoey and Gyo he was reluctant to leave someone else behind.
They found a few dead Converts further into the plant, their heads cleanly removed by a Uin, a path of destruction that he decided to try to follow. They claimed the Converts’ rifles first, reloading them with fresh magazines and continuing together. Olus remained impressed with Abbey’s daughter. Hayley had her mother’s courage and will. He knew she was hurting on the inside, but other than the short window during which she’d been unable to contain her emotions, she was carrying on like a real soldier.
Their search brought them to the plant’s main control room, a box that didn’t look all that much different than the bridge of a starship. Different terminals controlled different aspects of the power station’s functions, and while the ones directly related to the fusion reactors were offline the terminal that managed interior functions wasn’t.
Its projection was visible, a multi-layered view of all of the cameras in the facility that Ruche hadn’t destroyed. Through it, Olus could see the organization of the remaining enemy forces. They were mostly covering the exits, waiting outside for him to emerge, no doubt aware that their leader was dead.
Pahaliah wasn’t in the room, which gave him an equal of measure of comfort and concern. Had she left the terminal active in case he showed up? Or had the enemy set it up, hoping to lure him into a trap? Was her body gone because she was still alive and had left the area, or had they removed it so as not to give their intentions away?
“We’ll go out that way,” Olus said, pointing to the entrance where Pahaliah had entered. The bodies had been removed, replaced with three squads of soldiers in blacksuits.
“There are fewer of them there,” Hayley said, pointing at a smaller service entrance. Only three soldiers waited.
“If it’s a trap, they’ll be trying to get us to go that way,” Olus replied.
“Unless they know you’ll do the opposite of what you think they want?”
“But then they’ll know I know that and will do the opposite again, which puts us back at the beginning,” Olus said, smiling. “We’ll go that way.”
“Roger.”
They left the control room, moving back into the plant. They crossed the corridors, heading for the exit. Olus stopped when he caught sight of Pahaliah’s Uin resting on the ground, discarded. He leaned over it, picking it up and scanning the area. There was blood on the wall, a smear that looked like it could have come from her arm. She was wounded, at least. He remembered she had one of the Blood capsules. Had she taken it?
He kept the Uin, folding it and putting it into a tightpack. They kept moving until they reached the end of the corridor.
They were on the upper floor of the facility, above the open space that led to the outside. Another two squads of soldiers were waiting there, taking cover behind abandoned supply crates but visible from their raised position. The terminal hadn’t shown them this area, and when Olus glanced over at the walls he could see the burn marks around the camera positions.
“I think we should have gone the other way,” Hayley whispered.
Olus glanced over at her. Maybe she had been right. “We still can. Follow-”
He stopped talking when he heard a buzz growing in pitch outside. Something was dropping toward the facility in a hurry. The soldiers below them froze momentarily and then began to rush outside. What the hell?
Gunfire followed. Lots of it. Shouting and screaming came next.
“Hold on,” Olus said, turning and scooping Hayley into his arms.
He lifted her easily, holding her tight as he vaulted the railing, dropping to the floor below. He flexed his legs on the landing, the seraphsuit and the Gift helping him manage the stress without issue. He put Hayley down, leading her forward behind one of the crates.
He brought his rifle into his hands and raised himself over the cover so he could see outside. The enemy soldiers were backing toward the inside of the structure, firing at something. The buzz had remained over the plant. It sounded like an older model atmospheric dropship. But who would have come to his aid? Nobody knew he was here except…
One of the enemy soldiers fell as their head was pulverized. Two seconds later, a soft crack followed.
Pahaliah.
Another soldier fell. Then a third. The ones that weren’t getting hit by the Zip-10 were getting back up. Converts.
“Cover me,” Olus said.
“Roger,” Hayley replied.
He leaped over the crates, running toward the rear of the enemy line. One of the soldiers turned to face him and was promptly shot by the younger Cage. He spread the Uin and sliced through the target’s head, then moved to the next, cutting that one down as well.
He neared the outside. He could see the full scale of the fighting now, a dozen armed Plixians facing off against Thraven’s soldiers, while Pahaliah picked them off from a distance. At least, he assumed it was her. Who else would have known the weapon was up there?
He joined the battle, coming at the enemy from the rear, getting into the mix and taking them down one by one. It was over within seconds, the blacksuits quickly defeated by the Servants.
Olus hurried back inside, finding Hayley already on the move toward him. They reconnected and went moved to the group that was assembling nearby.
“Captain Mann,” Xanix said as he approached.
“Xanix,” Olus replied. “Pahaliah contacted you?”
“Yes. There is no time to speak, Captain. Now that you are out, we must get away from the area.”
Olus didn’t argue. One of the other Plixians ducked down beside Hayley. “May I carry you?”
Hayley looked at Olus, who nodded. She nodded in turn, and the Plixian picked her up. Then they all began to run, back toward the small dropship hovering near the slope of the hill where the sniper was positioned.
A sharp whistle began to grow in volume as they ran.
“What the frag is going on out there?” Olus said, recognizing the sound.
“War, Captain,” Xanix sa
id. “War like you’ve never seen it.”
They reached the dropship. It was still hovering, and the Plixians had to jump ten meters to reach the open hatch, gaining the ship one after another. Olus made sure Hayley was on board before he joined them, his bounce carrying him in last.
“Go, go, go,” Xanix shouted to the pilot.
The whistle had grown so loud the noise penetrated the armor of the dropship, which began lifting up and away.
“I don’t understand,” Olus said as they gained thrust and altitude.
The whistle vanished. He closed his eyes, waiting for the deep rumble and thump he knew would follow. Had they gotten far enough away?
The dropship began to shake as the blast wave caught up to them, knocking them around. Warning tones sounded throughout the craft, and his stomach dropped as they lurched.
A moment later, it was over. The dropship straightened out, still airborne.
He had said he didn’t understand, but that wasn’t the truth. Not at all. He did understand.
Gloritant Thraven wasn’t taking no for an answer.
10
Commander Kyle Ng turned off his terminal, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. The feed to the Republic Council meeting on Earth had gone dead, blacked out after Councilwoman Lorenti had been assassinated before she could say too much.
He had known the vote was coming. He knew what the outcome was supposed to be. He also knew things hadn’t gone according to plan.
Not at all.
He had made promises. So many promises. They didn’t always align with one another. He had promised his partner he would love him forever. He had promised their son he would be on leave for his fifth birthday. He had promised to protect them and take care of them. He had made the same promise to the Admiral, in relation to the rest of the Republic.
But then, he had also promised Gloritant Thraven his loyalty and devotion, in exchange for the comfort of his family once the galaxy was subdued. How could he not? He had seen what the Gloritant was capable of doing. He had seen the power the Gloritant and his followers controlled. The Republic had no chance against a force like that. No chance at all. And he had promises to keep. A lot of promises. He had to prioritize them somehow.
Things were going wrong. It had started when Ruche had taken delivery of Cage and had only continued from there. Kyle didn’t know all of the details. He didn’t need to know. He understood that the fleet on Kell had been lost. He knew the Brimstone was lost. He knew Cage was a big reason why. He had only served with her briefly, but he couldn’t say he was completely surprised.
And now the vote had failed. The one that would have seen those loyal to Thraven positioned as defensive patrols in the rear lines of the war with the Outworlds while the rest were sent forward to face off against the Shrikes. It hadn’t failed simply or quietly, either. It had failed big, with Thraven’s name cast out for all of the galaxy to hear, along with clear evidence that he had taken Cage’s daughter to use as leverage. Blackmail was one thing. Abduction was another. Either way, the Republic was going to know they had been infiltrated and tricked. Or as Lorenti had put it, they were going to be forced to start looking below the surface.
He knew what they were going to find.
One storm was going to be traded for another. He had been a soldier long enough to understand how these things worked.
The question then was whose side would he be on?
He already knew the answer. He had gone too far to turn back. He was past the point of no return. He wasn’t the only soldier on the Nova who had pledged loyalty to Thraven. The compromised Committee had seen to it that the right people had been reassigned to the right places. A change of heart would likely lead to death, and dying was the last thing on his agenda.
The minutes passed. Kyle soaked them up, trying to drag as much peaceful enjoyment out of them as he could. He had a feeling there would be no peace for a while. Maybe not for the rest of his life.
When his comm sounded in a special, reserved tone, he knew his time was up.
He opened his eyes, leaning forward and tapping his terminal. The projection turned on. He felt a chill at the sight of Gloritant Thraven, resplendent in his uniform, crisp and composed and fully in control. The vote was a setback, not a defeat. A blip of unfortunate circumstance, not the end. There was always a contingency.
“My Warriors. My Army. My Children. The time has come.”
The words sent a shiver down Kyle’s spine. There was such power to Gloritant Thraven. Such dignity. Such strength.
“We have done our best to lead the Republic into our future, but like a stubborn animal they refuse to be moved. They pull back and resist because they do not know the glory of what they are resisting. They do not know the beautiful future of His Promise or the honor of the Great Return. We no longer have the time to explain it to them. What will not be given must be taken if the new order of the universe is to take a firm hold.
“This will not be an easy time, but it will be our time, our opportunity to cast aside the shackles of the past and move forward into a glorious future. I demand nothing of any of you. But I do ask that you remember the promises you have made to me and your Honorants. I ask that you keep your oath, your pledge, even as the days ahead grow dark and violent and chaos grips all that we know. The dark precedes the dawn, and only we can ensure the brightness of salvation comes to all who believe.”
Thraven paused, his face stoic, his posture proud and confident. Kyle couldn’t help himself. He stood and raised his hand in an act of solidarity and union with the Gloritant. He believed in the future of a unified galaxy. He believed in the promise of salvation and glory. He believed that the universe would be better when Gloritant Thraven was controlling it, not from the shadows, but in front of all the nations where his Gift would be on full display.
“You will each be receiving orders shortly from your Honorants,” Thraven said. “I have complete faith in you. Go forward with my blessing, and the blessing of His Promise upon you. Go forward, and do not look back. The time for secrecy is over.
“The time for war has begun.”
11
Captain Golt shook his head in disbelief. What the hell was happening back on Earth? What the hell was happening to the Republic? The Council had always been a bastion of faith and security across the nations of the interplanetary government, but now it had been turned into a scene of absolute and utter chaos.
Council members under the control of an outside influence? Children being taken and held prisoner to force compliance? He had felt anxious and uncertain since the Committee had repositioned his fleet nearer to the Fringe, not many light years from where the patrol had been assaulted by the Fire near Anvil. The Committee had been making a lot of decisions he didn’t agree with lately, showing a change in tactics that he recognized as a more aggressive stance toward the Outworlds while remaining within the guidelines of the Prime.
But now? After what he had just seen occur in the Council Chambers? Councilwoman Lorenti had brought a dark wound into the open and had been murdered for it. The feed had gone dark, leaving him and all of the other Republic Officers around the galaxy to wonder where their next order would come from, and what kind of order it would be.
He was beyond anxious and uncertain.
He was afraid.
“Sir?” Ensign Grool, a fellow Curlatin, said. “What do we do now?”
“Nothing, Ensign,” Golt replied. “We continue on our mission until we are ordered otherwise.”
“Aye, sir.”
They were patrolling the Fringe fifty light-years from Anvil, ordered to run interference should the Outworlds make any sudden moves toward the Republic, and be prepared for orders to launch an assault on the nearby planet. A second battle group was stationed ten light years distant under the same commands, sweeping back and forth and waiting for action from one side or the other.
“Sir?” Grool said. “Do you think there will be a coup?”
“No,” Golt said. “The Republic is too resolved to fall in that way. Her soldiers are loyal.”
“Aye, sir.”
Golt rubbed at the fur beneath his chin. It was a reflexive action intended to soothe his fraying nerves. He had said the words, and now he needed to try to believe them.
“Sir.” Lieutenant Roskov approached him from the left side of the command station, holding a thin tablet. “The procurement documents require your signature.”
Golt took the tablet and quickly scanned the form. It was a typical request for resupply. He moved his large finger along the bottom of it to sign it.
“Thank you, sir.”
Roskov headed off to transfer the form back to Central Command. Golt looked out of his battleship’s forward viewport, at the sea of stars around them, split by the other ships in his group. Half of them were the newer Kirsten class battlecruisers from Tridium Industries, fast and powerful attack vessels that in conjunction with the Apocalypse fighters were intended to help the stand up more confidently against the Shrikes.
He sighed out some of his tension, returning his attention to his terminal. He scanned through the Milnet streams, searching for incoming news from the Council Chambers. He needed to know what was happening down there. If he was going to be uneasy, he at least wanted to be informed.
Nothing. There was nothing. It was as if the entire Milnet had gone dark. The existing streams were all dead. The wider channels that were normally filled with chatter were silent. There was no data flowing through his identifier. No positioning updates. Nothing.
“Sir,” Roskov’s voice came over his terminal.
“Yes, Lieutenant?” he replied.
“I’m trying to send the procurement request. The transfer is failing.”
Had something happened to their communications equipment?
“Chief Petty Officer Roils,” Golt said, contacting the Communications Chief.