“We have already started production of what we will refer to as a jump lens: an independent and expansive mobile scaffold of connected jump circuits which will precede us in our approach. Our choice of target planet is perhaps unfortunate under the circumstances, though it is by far the richest in the system. We will be making planetfall on the sixth planet, which means that we ourselves will be a target for all three populated planets for the majority of our approach. But after planetfall, the stalled orbits will enable us to use the sixth planet as a shield, preventing the other two from directing their mass drivers against us offensively.
“Now, the jump lens. As the explosive devices enter into the influence of the lens, they will be redirected back towards the source. Directors Scanlan and Haspel are working out problems with detonation which might compromise the physical structure of the scaffold itself as well as trajectory conflicts arising from potential collisions between incoming and outgoing explosives. After a fashion, both of these will be non-issues since proximity will preclude use of the local mass drivers.”
Witchlan paused, almost seeming to shut down entirely. That combined with the attending silence made Jav shiver for an instant, feeling that the scene here was the snapshot close to a dream, one filled with some symbolism which was vital to him on waking, but just beyond his understanding. The returning sound of Witchlan’s voice roused him. He ran his fingers through his close-cropped hair, tugging at it sharply to ensure that he was awake and lucid.
“Rather than put ourselves at the mercy of their combined forces for what might be a ten-day approach using conventional landing methods,” Witchlan continued, “we will, once the jump lens is deployed, re-engage the Stitch Drive and make what will likely be our most aggressive planetfall yet.”
Several Shades, mostly the veterans, were visibly stunned.
Wheeler Barson cleared his throat, and glanced around the table as he sat straighter. “Is that. . . wise, Minister?”
Witchlan cocked his head. “No, Mr. Barson. It is not.”
Witchlan was silent again for a moment, scanning everyone in the room slowly. Again, Jav had to fight the dreamy quality that seemed to creep into his head at every opportunity just now.
“No one knows better than I what this will mean. It has never been done before. The warp fields might tear the planet apart. If not, the impact may shatter the Palace. But we will soon be within range of the seventh and then the sixth planet. While their level of technology does not appear to be a threat in and of itself, the shear volume of explosives they will be able to direct at us, could put us at risk.” Witchlan made a hissing noise that none in the room had ever heard before, but its meaning was clear: exasperation at something that should not be. “The volume we are looking at, what our scans are indicating is that every mass driver employed by the denizens of this system is stockpiled with inordinate supplies of ammunition. Amounts which suggest that they have known we were coming long before they had any way—scientifically—of knowing we were on en route. There will be no end to the bombardment. But we have all come too far and sacrificed too much to bow before catapults. We will not risk compromising the Palace or the Vine while in this critical stage just prior to landing. After planetfall, however. . .” Witchlan trailed off and turned his head in a way that invited anyone who was interested to complete the thought. No one did. “Is that understood?”
“Yes, Minister,” Barson said, lowering his eyes.
“Good. Once the jump lens is complete and in place, it will be fixed spatially with relation to the Palace so that it will always precede us. We have assurances that the lens will be ready within twenty-seven hours. If all goes according to schedule, we will engage the Stitch Drive, which will put us on planet in an additional fifty hours. Just as the jump lens makes contact with the planet’s surface, the jump circuits will be cut, but not before they prime the ground for us. The effect should break up and soften the earth, ideally reducing our impact, if only marginally.
“So, there is little that any of you can do, except hope that our Military Hardware and Astrophysics Divisions will do as they have promised. Mr. Barson, you will be responsible for securing your Gran for planetfall. Please make use of all available resources to ensure that the latest and greatest incarnation of Gran Kwes is not destroyed prior to its first sortie.”
“Yes, Minister.”
“Are there any questions?”
The war room was silent. There were at least a hundred questions, but not a single one that might change or affect what needed to be done. Jav looked around and guessed that his anxiety was representative of everyone else’s. Even the members of Blue Squad exchanged meaningful glances, but no one raised another question. The talk would start immediately after the meeting—fruitless talk, speculative talk, questions that could not yet be answered—but for now silence prevailed.
“Very well,” Witchlan said. “That is all.”
• • •
Kalkin corralled Jav, Vays, and Raus and directed them to a public area, the very one Jav had stopped by on his way to the briefing. From the window they could see the incoming bombs, but now they could also see Director Scanlan’s defensive measures at work. Lightning lashes from numerous Tether Launch bays intercepted and detonated the alien weapons far out from the Palace.
Jav realized that he hadn’t felt the results of any explosions for some time now. Using the Tether Launch stations was a simple, if temporary, solution to their problem, but Jav marveled at the idea of the jump lens, thinking that there was nothing Gilf Scanlan couldn’t do.
“What do you suppose it means?” Vays said to Kalkin. “The stockpiles, their preparation.”
Kalkin shrugged. “I think it means that they have means beyond science. Just like we do. Frankly, I’d be surprised if this really was the first time this has happened. But three planets so closely situated, this prepared, and working together. . .” Kalkin sighed. “That might be a first.
“Everything is speculation at this point, but I think it would be a good idea to expect resistance on an order as yet unknown to any of you.”
“And you?” Jav said.
Kalkin pursed his lips. “Not sure.”
“What about the Gun Golems?” Vays said.
“The Gun Golems were devastating, but single-minded in their programming. Both a strength and an exploitable weakness. I have the feeling that we’ll be dealing with a lot more variables this time, but it’s impossible to say exactly what we’ll encounter. The tech level we’re looking at is a good sign. That they were tipped off to our coming so far in advance is a decidedly bad one.”
Raus stood silently with his arms folded, just listening.
Vays, however, grinned and showed his teeth. “I can’t believe that this planet could offer something on par with the Gun Golems. What are the odds?”
“What are odds when reality speaks?” Kalkin said.
Vays’s grin faltered slightly.
“I’ve never heard of using the Stitch Drive within solar systems.” Kalkin looked out the window, put his hand to his chin, and took a deep breath. “The risk of one of the warp fields drawing in an unsecured satellite becomes untenable. Then there’s the impact of landing to consider. But clearly, the Emperor sees this as the best way. I think it would be wise to be prepared for the worst.”
Vays sobered and nodded.
“Go about your business. Train. Spend time with those you care about. Answers will start coming in three days. Until then, as Witchlan says, there’s little else we can do.”
• • •
At 1725 that day, the Vine shook with the first of the secondary bombardment to pierce Palace defenses, this from the seventh planet. Now it was impossible to intercept all incoming bombs. The jump lens was taking shape, a giant mechanical spiderweb in space, and was the priority for the Tether Launch defense efforts. The resulting Vine quakes were disorienting and unnerving, but according to all reports, were not of immediate concern. Jav had a hard time believing t
his and simply tried to ignore the little interruptions which came with increasing regularity.
He spent the day training with Mao, Dolma Set, and Stafros Lowe. Bela Fan had come by to speak with Dolma Set privately and Jav wondered if there was something between them. By the look of gloom and preoccupied frustration he saw on Set’s face afterwards, he thought that maybe there was, but that it might not have been mutual. When Slowe responded to that look by gripping Set’s shoulder, Jav was sure of it.
Witnessing all of this, Jav thought of Mao. Heat suffused him suddenly, and he could think of nothing else. He glanced at her unconsciously, and the sight of her exercise-reddened cheeks caused a stirring in his clothes that might prove embarrassing in mixed company. His breath, hot and thick, caught in his chest and punctuated the urgency he felt. He needed to take her somewhere. Now. It was past finishing time anyway, so Jav gripped Mao’s hand. The warm but firm pressure surprised her a little, and she turned to look at Jav, their eyes meeting.
What she saw in his gray eyes mesmerized her. She had never seen Jav’s desire for her so plain, so immediate, so intense. Overwhelmed slightly, she swallowed hard and nodded without realizing she was doing it.
“We’ve got to get going,” Jav said. “See you both tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Set said. “Counting down to planetfall, right?”
“Right,” Jav said, grinning, but only half engaged. He and Mao were already on their way out, Mao wide-eyed and momentarily incapable of intelligible speech. She finally managed an explosive, “Bye!” but the door closing cut the word in half.
• • •
They were already kissing each other hungrily as Jav pushed them through the door to the quarters they shared. They pawed at each other’s sweat-soaked clothes, peeling each other bare in a matter of seconds, and Jav directed them without a break in their entangled lust to the shower.
Under the warm rush, he raised her hands high above her head so that he could admire the perfect curve of her petite frame. He released her hands but she kept them upraised, and closed her eyes as he nuzzled her neck first, then descended to her pert breasts, sensitive and waiting. He reached blindly but accurately for the soap and proceeded to make her slick with with it, caressing her, kneading her, loving her with his hands. He returned his attention to her lips, kissing her again, as insatiably as before. She dropped her hands around his neck and clutched him in an embrace, reciprocating. She writhed against him, getting him soapy, and they started a synchronized rhythm of slipping, pressing, rubbing that neither could or would allow to stop.
They squirmed together like that until the narrow confines of the shower proved too limiting for their escalating passion. Now rinsed, but still entwined, they shut off the water and moved somewhat clumsily out of the stall as one body. Warm air whipped suddenly and automatically through the bathroom, drying them for the most part, as they continued on their way to the bed.
They were ravenous for each other. He eased into her, tentatively at first, but she was ready for him and insistent. He pushed harder, and she pulled at him in turn, urging him ever deeper. He had never felt like this before, so close, so connected, so in love, and yet when he looked at her face, rapt and flushed and beautiful, a strange but not unfamiliar vertigo snared him like gravity. He seemed to fall through her, as if she were receding into herself, threatening to leave him forever. He pushed into her, grinding electric pleasure into and through them both, seeking to catch her. They were so close and so connected, and yet, at the same time, she was falling, falling.
He reached his arms around her, lifting her without interrupting their rhythm, and resettled them so that he sat upright and she sat astride him. Mao wrapped her legs around his waist, and they both gripped each other in an unbreakable embrace, rocking urgently, both wet with fresh sweat.
Mao’s breath came in hot, hungry gasps now, and they rose together, their senses straining, both well beyond their previous notions of satisfaction, until climaxing in a white flash, a rolling succession of paroxysmal waves that shook them as one for what seemed an eternity.
They sat together like that, Mao shuddering and going limp within his arms. He kissed her cheek and held her tight. He caressed her hair, taking in its familiar scent and loving it. He frowned, though. What they’d just shared was incredible, but in the end, despite their shared climax, he hadn’t caught her. He was still plagued by the nagging thought that, despite her being right here in his arms, she was already gone.
10,691.149
Salton Stoakes woke to suffocating darkness. He felt like a loose collection of aches, pains, scrapes, and burns but found that he was essentially whole. Pressing down upon him, though, was a mountain of charred trees and ashen soil mixed with dirty snow and great chunks of fused ice. Once the disorientation passed, freeing himself was a simple matter. He went Dark and rose through the breaks in the apocalyptic detritus, returned to normal, and took a seat atop what he’d been buried beneath. He wasn’t worried about detection, no one was about and wouldn’t be for some time now if at all.
It was day. The air was crisp, bright with cold sunlight, revealing a sky that was alive with tracers directed at the dark line of the Vine, which was closer now. In fact, Stoakes could actually see it moving. He jerked to his feet realizing that the only way he would be able to perceive its motion was if the Stitch Drive had been re-engaged. He couldn’t afford anymore downtime. If they were coming in on the Stitch Drive, something was wrong and he would have to do his part to try to make up for whatever that might be. His efforts might prove inconsequential, but he still wanted to get back to the Palace—wanted there to be a Palace to which he could return.
He pulled the Suicide Knife from its sheath at the small of his back and held it before him. The rotating image of the planet he’d captured back at EP06 flickered above the blade, just as the original had in the control room. He calculated his current position as best as possible in relation to that now nonexistent military installation, checked the patterns in the sky against other neighboring mass drivers upon the spinning globe, and decided on a course that would take him to the nearest one. From now on stealth would be secondary. It was like being a general again, and the challenge of going it alone excited him in a way he hadn’t experienced in several hundred years.
• • •
As Stoakes breezed across the sky in his Darkened state, he was taken aback by the ceaseless working of almost uncountable mass drivers from just about every direction. The launch vectors were changing with the revolution of the planet, but he had no doubt that drivers not currently in operation would start up again once the angle was right. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but harbor a tiny knot of fear. He was hard-pressed to remember a time when the Palace had been subjected to such a heavy volume of firepower, and an unfamiliar sense of urgency sped him forward.
He travelled for the better part of the day, bounding several-kilometer spans at a time over essentially barren, snow-covered ground. It was monotonous work with so little variation in scenery, so he was instantly shocked back to alertness when a roaring projectile—massive and filled with deadly explosives he knew—suddenly filled the sky and threatened to take him on a last and decidedly one-way trip. He adjusted his weight and dropped like a stone, easily avoiding the payload meant for the Palace. His heart was racing, which was good. He needed to stay focused. There could be no doubt that he was close to the mass driver now. Indeed, as he descended he caught sight of something as yet unprecedented here: a city.
So far, Stoakes had seen only small rural communities and the two mass driver installations. Of course there had to be cities—even with all the snow, there was an excellent system of roads in evidence, all in good repair—and the city up ahead appeared to be large by any standards. He resumed his course, taking care to avoid the thundering mass driver gunshots.
As he approached, it became clear that the city had built up around the mass driver, on either side and behind it. Though the city spraw
led, none of the buildings looked to be more than ten stories high. A number of bridges, none of them big enough to accommodate vehicles of any size, Stoakes thought, spanned the mass driver, connecting the otherwise separated halves of the city. Lights flashed all along the launch way and sirens wailed. They were firing the driver every ten minutes now and appeared to have a pretty efficient system. Only five kilometers away now, Stoakes could see smoothly running traffic, trucks rolling from various locations, making for the loading breech.
He wasn’t sure how he was going to disable this mass driver. There was too much activity, were too many people. Several of the surrounding buildings might serve his purpose if they were to topple onto and across the launch way, but he wasn’t sure how to make that happen. Neither did any but the stoutest of the bridges look like they might facilitate a breach. It did occur to him, however, how he might go about killing a large number of people at one time.
In his sixteen days here on Iss, in the Olaff household, among the mass driver installation personnel, Stoakes had heard the King of Spades mentioned several times, always in fearful tones or in some unpleasant oath. Faaylin Olaff had even raised the question, in jest perhaps, of whether or not Stoakes himself was the King of Spades. Stoakes had gathered that the King of Spades, what- or whoever he might be, was this culture’s bogeyman or one of them. If he could invoke that fear power and make it real for these Issians, then he could kill in lots of hundreds, if not thousands.
Stoakes thought of Faaylin Olaff again and wondered when he might encounter another like him. He’d been lucky so far in that all his other dealings had been with normals. If he came up against a force of those like Olaff in any number, he might not survive the encounter. He would deal with that potential when necessary, though. Dwelling on it would serve no purpose.
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