Magnus quickly readjusted the primary holo view at the center of the table to focus on a group of warship discs skimming above the surface of Masala’s grid. “I only count eleven,” he noted. “What happened to the rest?” He pulled the zoom back out to cover the entire portal area below their position. The Meropean vessels and the larger Alcyoni ships moved in slow patrol between the twelve orbiting stations of the portal. Two shimmering clusters of the faster, lighter Maian Birdwings circled and crisscrossed the space above the main contingent, waiting and watching for the next attack.
“Mag, Mitsu, bring your group down and cover the zone just outside the stations,” the admiral’s voice directed over the open channel.
“On our way,” Mitsu relayed over the link.
“Hurik, bring the Zephyr in behind the Myōjō and take us down,” Magnus ordered. “Ari, Rob, be ready to strike.”
As the group began its descent, Magnus scoured the holo, barely breathing, watching for the inevitable reappearance of enemy craft somewhere on the field.
In a blazing display of light, a band of Drahkian warships swooped in between two of the orbiting stations, firing non-stop blasts at three of the nearest ships, severely crippling one of the Meropean vessels seconds before the two stations exploded. Several Meropean ships clustered defensively around the wounded vessel and returned fire just as the group of eleven warships outside the perimeter on the far side shot in and launched an attack on the patrolling Pleiadian vessels. The Corum and Loki engaged them immediately, driving the charcoal discs back away from the portal stations before they came on again, targeting one of the Chi’an patrol ships.
“Twelve warships still haven’t shown up yet,” Al muttered beside him.
“Yeah, I know, but the Birdwings are hanging back waiting for them,” Magnus pointed out as they listened to the Maian leader issuing orders. “Tanamar’s a shrewd man.”
As if on cue, a mass of dark discs materialized above the portal heading straight into the space opening between the two groups of embattled vessels.
“No!” Al snapped, his face twisting into a tense grimace.
“Hang on,” Magnus declared as all eyes on the bridge riveted onto the groups of flying images. A sudden blitz of weapon fire hit the lead warship as two streaks of gold cut across its path from opposite directions, blowing the Drahkian vessel into a shower of scattering debris an instant before two more Birdwings swooped in and attacked the second warship in the formation with the same dramatic results.
As the wreckage from the two exploded ships radiated outward, the rest of the warship band veered away and transported immediately out of the space above the portal. Moments later, the other two groups of discs ceased their onslaughts and vanished from the field.
“Yessss!!” Magnus hissed while the bridge officers clapped and let out whoops of relief.
As the Zephyr and Ki’an vessels pulled into position just beyond the perimeter of the orbiting stations, Magnus watched the holo of the portal zone and listened to the Pleiadian admirals discuss strategy across the open channel. The crippled Meropean ship hung bleakly above the portal, outwardly tranquil, but he was all too aware of the critical pandemonium that the captain and crew were no doubt experiencing throughout the damaged vessel.
Abruptly, the Drahkian warships appeared en masse outside the portal in a tight array, hovering above the grid several miles away.
“That’s odd,” Al began, shifting the holo slightly for a sharper view of the warband’s position. “They’re—”
“Just a sec, Al.” Magnus held up a quick hand for silence as crackling interference cut across the channels on his headset. A rough, scratchy voice broke into the transmission demanding attention in heavily accented Mothertongue. Magnus’s hands flew over the controls to pull in the signal and throw it up over the central hologram.
“The bloody Drahk is making contact,” he exclaimed an instant before the form of a grayish-tan reptilian man with dark eyes and a light spiky crest solidified in the room above the bridge officers.
Amara Tungo’s incisive voice came into the transmission. “This is Admiral Tungo of the Meropean fleet. Cease your—”
The Drahk let out an impatient bellow and swiped his hand in front of him to cut her off. “A female?” He tipped his head back and guffawed, revealing a row of razor sharp teeth in a wide jawline. “You can’t be serious. What kind of a government would put a female in charge? I will speak only with a male,” he growled tersely.
“This is Miros Silésian, Admiral of the Alcyoni fleet. Do you—”
“You interfere with my territory, human from Alcyone—you and the bird creatures,” the reptile snarled menacingly. “There will be a price for your insolence.”
“You are the trespasser here!” Admiral Rimstrider spat out. “You have no rights in Merope whatsoever.”
The reptile chuckled softly. “The birdman has a backbone. You took out two of my best captains and some costly equipment just now, Maian. The bonus I pay for destroying any of your puny vessels just went up.”
“Do you answer to an overlord?” Miros pressed. “I want to speak to your leader.”
“I answer to no one but the Emperor and he gave me this system!” the Drahk roared. “I am Salaal! You will all bend your knees to me or you will perish.”
“We kneel to no one, reptile,” Amara snapped fiercely, clearly angered by the warlord’s insults. “Get out of Merope!”
Ignoring the admiral entirely, the Drahk turned his head to the side and issued a curt order in his own language to one of his officers before crossing his arms casually and refocusing on the Pleiadian leaders. “I am releasing a small vessel of Kimboan diplomats,” he declared with an oily smirk. “It will give you the opportunity to see what the remaining Meropean worlds can look forward to after I conquer them. I will take you down one portal at a time.” With a gravelly laugh, Salaal abruptly ended the transmission.
The Zephyr’s bridge officers watched raptly as Magnus readjusted the holo of Masala to a larger view of the Drahkian ships hovering just beyond the Pleiadian vessels spread out across the portal space. One of the dark gray warships broke from the formation and moved in a slow arc between the two banks of ships, pausing briefly to expel a small freighter from one of its bays before moving back toward the Drahkian line.
The channel crackled as Amara began issuing curt orders before she withdrew to another frequency. “Hold on, everyone,” Miros’s steely voice relayed over the channel.
Magnus quickly opened a secondary holo of the floating craft and zoomed in for a closer look. The blocky cargo ship was badly damaged, showing blatant evidence of weapon fire and wide patches of charred metal. There were no lights to be seen anywhere on the vessel and, for all intents and purposes, appeared to be completely devoid of life.
“Are they going to go pick it up?” Al wondered aloud.
“Yeah, there.” Magnus pointed to a Meropean starship in the primary holo moving out away from one of the portal stations, gliding toward the abandoned craft until it came within close range. A pair of fighters sped out from the starship and circled behind the vessel, using their shields to gingerly maneuver the damaged freighter into an open cargo bay.
“The Drahks are moving,” Hurik announced, pulling all eyes back to the body of dark discs rising in one lithe motion up into space. In the blink of an eye, the entire warband vanished from sight.
The bridge officers waited pensively for any indication of the Drahks’ reappearance. “Think they’ll be back?” Al mumbled as he scanned the quiet scene within the holo.
“Don’t know,” Magnus replied. “My gut says no since the Birdwings blew two of their ships, but the bastard wanted to make sure he rattled our cage before he left.”
“If he brought the Kimboans with him, he planned this whole charade.”
“Yep, just like Yuri predicted.”
Miros’s voice broke over the com link. “The Meropean guard over Kimbo just reported that the warband reap
peared over the portal before sliding down through the locks. It looks like they’re finished for the day.”
“Thank the Prime,” Magnus sighed before Amara Tungo’s shaky voice came back into the channel.
“Before we set up patrols and disperse, I thought everyone here deserved to know what was on that freighter,” the admiral began, her words laced with bitterness. “When the cargo bay crew of the Kimondo approached the hatch, they could hear the shrieks … of a saur,” she said with obvious difficulty. “They forced open the door and quickly put the animal down, … but almost all the people who had been trapped inside with it were dead. The few who survived will probably never be the same.”
A heavy silence sank into the room. Magnus clenched his teeth, fighting back a sickening swell of anger. “Sadistic prick,” he whispered under his breath as he switched the admirals’ channel back to private broadcast.
Beside him, Alasdair’s hands tightened into fists on the console, his knuckles white with indignation as he sat staring at the floating holo.
“Tell the crew to stand down,” Magnus ordered softly, knowing his friend needed a momentary diversion from the outrage they were all feeling.
Moments later, Miros’s voice came over his headset. “Magnus, get those holo reports back to Tarsus so Councilor van der Meer can distribute them on to the other Alcyoni high councils. The Zephyr’s back on rotation for portal duty in twenty-four hours.”
“Right, we’re on our way.” Closing down the channel, Magnus addressed the room full of somber officers. “We’re going home—24-hour breather. Hurik, take us up to the gate.”
With a sour pit in his stomach, Magnus sat back in his chair and looked up at the hovering blue form of Masala, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that they would all be back in the not-too-distant future to face off with Salaal and his deadly warships once again.
In a vaulted cavern far below the northernmost reaches of Lyonnae, fifth world of the Sirius trinary, the last colony of Makhás masters gathered to mourn the passing of the yeshe. Kirian Vall stared at the emaciated form of his father while his twin sister Selina wept quietly beside him. He lifted a hand to his chest in a futile effort to fight off the terrible ache, knowing this was the last time he would ever lay eyes on the amazing man he had loved and admired ever since he could remember.
The voices filling the cavern mingled and rose in a solemn show of respect, bringing a tight knot to Kirian’s throat. Every one of the four hundred-thirteen men, women, and children as well as Rinzen, the grand being rising above them at the center of the lofty chamber, were alive because of Sundar Vall.
Over thirty years prior, the leonine Shitza had swept into the northern cities of the Ustagi white tiger clans to hunt down the great Khalama starships and the Makhás mystics who flew them. The Makhás portal had been ravaged, trapping their ships within the planetary grid while severing all ties with outside contacts.
To prevent a millennium of knowledge and technology from falling into the hands of the violent Shitza and their off-world reptilian masters, Sera Choden, the last incumbent yeshe, had refused to surrender and charged her senior masters with the weighty task of safeguarding their people. With a small band of loyal masters, she had drawn Chao Rong’s forces toward the high mountain sanctuaries while Sundar and his colleagues hid the Khalamas and Makhás families in underground caverns beneath the Ustagi plateau.
The wrath of the thwarted oligarchy had been devastating. Entire cities had been razed, mountains blown apart in a massive effort to flush out the hidden ships. Sundar’s colony had been forced to move several times, and as the bombardments continued, one by one, the other hidden colonies stopped answering their calls. The once thriving culture of the Makhás and their glorious starships had been reduced to the pitiful few struggling to survive within these cavern walls.
Kirian’s eyes filled with tears as he looked at the withered figure dressed in the pale robes of the yeshe, hovering in the space at the center of the crowd. He knew his father had always blamed himself for not being able to save more than he had.
You did so well, Dad, Kirian called silently. I’m proud to be your son. I’m sure Yeshe Choden is proud of you, too.
In the face of such heart-breaking losses, Sundar’s driving energy had kept every soul in the colony moving forward over the years, adapting, learning, making new families. He had pushed them relentlessly to perfect their skills, to study and speak Mothertongue, and to train the young ones early on in their abilities as Makhás. Sundar’s greatest dream was to get them all safely off-planet and he’d spent countless long hours with Kirian and the other scholars poring over old texts, searching for the means of contacting old allies and reopening the ruptured portal.
But in spite of his unflagging dedication, the one thing the charismatic leader had not been able to weather was the loss of his beloved mate. When Pema Vall succumbed to the dank conditions of living underground, Sundar’s heart dropped like a stone and his will to go on crumbled with his wife’s last breath. For the past two years since their mother’s passing, Kirian, Selina, and the rest of the colony had stood by and watched helplessly as the robust, energetic man faded to dust before their eyes.
Kirian sucked in a jagged breath, holding back the anguish, but when his gentle wife Minla slipped her hand into his, the dam broke within. He tipped his head back as the tears streamed down his face, squeezing her hand in a desperate welling of heartache. The concerned touch of his closest friend Arman Sijía brushed against his mind and gingerly backed away before Arman’s clear, dominant voice somewhere to Kirian’s left shifted into a new key, sending the signal to the group to prolong the elegy. Kirian knew the whole room would wait until he was able to join them for the final sending and he was grateful to Arman for giving him the time he needed to grieve.
As the sharp edge of pain passed, Kirian lowered his head. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he added his resonant tones to the blending harmonics and raised his arms, holding his palms out toward his father. Following his lead, Sundar’s oldest friend Kalden Ngari lifted his hands across the circle and shifted his tones around Kirian’s to initiate the spinning matrix of the sending. As hands and voices rose throughout the wide cavern, a soft glow formed around Sundar’s body which slowly began to dissipate with the shifting sound.
Peace be with you, Sundar Vall. The melodious voice of Rinzen sounded across the group’s telepathic link the instant before the yeshe’s form disappeared from the chamber.
Kalden raised his hand to call for closure and the toning was brought to an end. Kirian closed his eyes as the last reverberations melted away, leaving a mournful silence hanging in the room. Slowly the muted sounds of people moving about the chamber sifted into his awareness and he drew in a deep breath. Selina slid her delicate arms under his short, open vest and around his waist as he leaned down to pull her close in a tight embrace.
“Ah, Kiri, I miss him,” the tiny woman sniffled against the soft fur of his ribcage.
“I know, Fluff—me, too,” he murmured, dropping an affectionate kiss onto her silky white head. When he straightened again, he found that several people had stepped up beside them and were waiting patiently until he lifted his face.
“Are you alright?” Arman asked quietly, his golden-brown eyes watching him keenly.
“I will be. Thank you.”
Arman nodded his shaggy head. “If you need to talk or go for a run—”
“Yeah, a run would be good,” Kirian muttered as Minla ran her hand over his back and patted him softly in comfort.
“Don’t worry about your classes for a few days. I’ll keep your students busy,” Asti Quli offered beside her burly husband Niyal.
“And I’ll handle the transport team’s practice for you and Selina.”
Kirian glanced up at his friend and furrowed his brow. “But you and Niyal have a ton of work at the forge. We need your bells to survive, Arman.”
“Don’t worry—we’ll manage.”
Ast
i held up her hand before he could utter another word of contradiction. “Please, let us do this small thing for you.”
Kirian blinked, shifting his gaze from Arman to Niyal and Asti, and then on to Anil and Nandi Ngari, the primary caretakers and spark couple for Rinzen standing behind them. He realized with a start that no one had left the chamber and that quite a collection of people were hovering a respectful distance away—Kalden, Senga Shengeti and the other senior masters and teachers, most of his students and the adepts of his transport team, even a handful of surprisingly quiet children—and they all seemed to be glancing his way with an odd air of expectation.
“What’s going on?” he rumbled as Selina dropped her arms and stepped away.
The sound of small feet somewhere at the back of the cavern drew his eye to a young woman running toward them, her youthful features focused in an earnest expression as she clutched a bundle of cloth tightly against her chest. When she caught up with a slow-moving, limping older woman also making her way steadily toward Kirian, she dropped to a walk and matched her pace to the elder, straightening her arms to let the soft violet cloth fall into her hands.
Kirian took one look at the garment young Skamár held reverently in front of her and took an involuntary step backward. “No—”
The crowd parted silently to allow the most venerated member of their colony to pass. Tenzin Ngari had once been the spark for Rinzen before her mate passed away and was the last living master who held the vital knowledge for birthing a new ship. Her light blue eyes locked onto Kirian and held steady until she and Skamár stood beneath the towering man.
“Kirian Vall,” the elder began, her thin voice bringing a hush over the everyone in the cavern. “We said good-bye to a dear friend today. And now we need his son to walk in his shoes.” Skamár lifted the violet robe in her hands and peered up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.
Kirian swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “I can’t fill those shoes,” he rasped as the ache inside started all over again. “Besides, the role of yeshe is not hereditary.”
Descent of the Maw Page 4