“Where are we going?”she asked. The soldiers led her through the halls, pausing at intersections to clear the area before moving on.
Trik didn’t reply at first. He held up a hand at each intersection, leaning out to take a look before moving on. Ever so often he would fire a burst and Mara would hear a scream. Blood and burnt flesh mixed in the air in a putrid cloud. Mara gagged, fighting the urge the vomit. Finally, after what seemed like forever, they paused.“Barrenon is on approach to Xenogas. We boarded on a small shuttle, and that is how we will escape.”
“But if Barrenonapproaches, won’t the cruiser fire upon her?”
“No,”Trik said.“Xenogas will not be given a chance. Barrenonwill fire a broadside and destroy this ship.”
That stopped the scientist in her tracks.“Destroy? But this ship has six thousand people aboard.”
“Six thousand, seven hundred and forty-eight.”Trix pulled her arm to drag her onward. Laser fire scorched the wall a moment later. His soldiers rolled into the area, automatic rifles spitting out green bolts of energy.“Believe me, Historian. This pains us to do. We are barely two hundred thousand, and this war will not be over swiftly.”
She hadn’t realized it, but tears flowed down her face. Her species couldn’t survive a civil war. There simply weren’t enough Nangolani left. They maneuvered from the holding area to the hangar, engaging in small firefights along the way. One of Trik’s soldiers was shot in the leg and the commando held off an attack until another man picked up the wounded and carried them off. It took only fifteen minutes, but felt like hours.
The hangar was the center of the warzone. Four shuttles of Hanweh supporters had crashed through the barrier during the assault. Imperial soldiers had the high ground, but the rebels fought with a ferocity not seen in the Nangolani people for generations. Men shouted as bolts tore into their bodies, sizzling and popping until the heat died down. Black and silver blood covered the walls and floor. The stink of death was everywhere.
Mara stayed low to the ground, Trik’s hand on her back, as they ran down the steps toward a waiting craft. The soldier practically tossed Mara into a seat and strapped her down. The pilot, a young female with dark gray spots along her jawline and neck, gunned the engines. Other fighters piled inside, still firing out the hatch even as it closed. Mara saw Trik standing outside the shuttle, waving it off. She shouted for them to stop, to wait for him, but the pilot had already pulled back on the stick. The squat transport banked hard and shot out of the cruiser, picking up speed. Mara unsnapped her restraint and turned to face the window in time to see Barrenon arrive.
One moment there was simply empty black space, and then the cruiser appeared. Its perfectly-timed exit from Stride gave little warning for the Imperial capital ship to react. An ominous green glow built up along the seams of the hull, growing toward a central point. It was an incredibly dangerous maneuver, but paid off. Only seconds after decelerating, Barrenon unleashed a massive wave of energy into Xenogas. The beam cut deep through the hull and into every compartment. Catastrophic decompression collapsed the frame, crushing the ammunition storage bays and igniting the pallets of missiles and bombs. The central fusion core disengaged from its cradle, reaching critical mass in seconds. The Capital Cruiser disappeared in an oval of white light as the entire ship erupted. Pieces of metal shot in all directions, trailing thin lines of smoke.
It was too much for the scientist. Her breath quickened for a moment, held, and then she fainted.
- XIV -
Jerry was fading fast. Cameron had pulled him into the cockpit so he could keep an eye on the wounded man while flying as fast as the ship would allow. So far, that was their limiting factor. The damage sustained from the attack continued to reveal itself, from cracks in the passenger windows to a piece of metal the size of a coin that punched a hole in the aft port engine. All in all, Cameron wasn’t having the best day.
Tearing through the iridescent void on a jury-rigged Blue drive was not Cam’s idea of a good time. Truth be told, this was the most scared he had ever been. And with the stick shaking like a bronco he knew the next hour was going to get worse before it got better. He tried breathing exercises, sucking in bellyfuls of air and holding his breath before slowly exhaling. It worked marginally. He stretched, loosening his shoulders to lessen the strain of controlling the shuttle. His breath came slower, easier. Looking over at the Chief of Staff, the young pilot found his resolve.
Adeline had found a bottle of alcohol in the former shuttle owner’s luggage. She took a few swigs to help with her nerves and was now sleeping peacefully on a row of seats. Cameron had covered her with a blanket and placed a cushion under her head. I won’t let you die like this, he had thought. I promise you that.
The Chief of Staff stirred, and Cameron frowned. Their conversation played over and over in his head. Jerry wasn’t in the best shape, but he’d seemed lucid as he detailed a conspiracy over a century old. Cameron had never bought into that nonsense; the world was strange enough without adding lunacy to the mix. But this was the Chief of Staff of the whole damned galaxy.
“Come on boss, stay with me.”Sweat poured down his face in streams. It wasn’t just the heat. He was starting to worry they wouldn’t make it to Eros in time. The generator in the back had started to make some pretty awful sounds. He’d made this trip before, back on Berlinand after aboard a Fleet transport, but riding the swells in a broken bus was an all new type of terror.“Keep talking, Jerry. Tell me about The High Chancellor’s dad.”For a moment he thought the old man had actually died, but the Chief of Staff coughed himself back into reality.
Jerry looked around, bewildered.“This isn’t Bermuda. You’re the worst driver I’ve ever had.”
Cameron laughed, but didn’t feel any relief. There was a smell coming off Jerry’s wound. Though the pilot had seen his share of death and dying, it had never been this slow or close. The hole emitted the aroma of rotted meat or bad cheese. Cameron didn’t know what it was, only that it couldn’t be good. A sudden bump lifted him out of his seat, but the transport steadied and flew on. They’d weathered the worst of it, or at least he hoped. The pilot stepped away from the controls gingerly, as though he could trip and the whole thing would go. He knelt down next to the Chief of Staff, helping him with the bottle of water.
“Zacharia,”Jerry said.“He wanted his son to follow in his footsteps. Taught him how to be ruthless, how to be powerful. Should have taught him how to hire better security. You’re too young to remember the Last Congress.”
Cameron grinned.“My dad had a saying.‘You have to be smart to be a smart ass.’The Last Congress was to be the Martian Declaration of Independence. Their president, a man known as Bishop, called together the leaders of the Unions and asked them to unite and secede from the Earth Council. Ended up being the start of the Federate.”
“Close.”The old man took a moment to wince in agonizing pain.“Zacharia was Bishop, as I’m sure you can guess. With the Foundation fighting against his efforts on Mars, he knew the only way to survive was to become the head of the most powerful group on the planet. The miners controlled the production of Ubernium for most of the galaxy. Without the valuable mineral, their Empire would grind to a halt. That rock fueled our stations, our carriers. Without it we could travel no further than the nearest moon.”
“Jerry,”Cameron interrupted.“You keep saying‘empire.’The Empire Americana ended with the Seven Divisions and the Tribunal. That was over a hundred years before Zacharia and Mars.”
Jerry gave the pilot a withering look.“I’m not talking about the Americans. I’m talking about the Foundation. Their empire, their dream of the bigger galaxy.”
“But you said they just wanted peace.”
The old man nodded.“That’s how it started. But Zacharia put a wrench in their plans, and only a few of the original members still remained. The new blood took the betrayal personally. They voted to step up the game. It wasn’t about keeping the peace; it was about settling th
e score. Working behind the scenes, they built their own empire, the Earth empire, and justified it by calling it a‘council of like minds.’”
“Mars was a turning point, though.”
At this Jerry sighed and closed his eyes.“It was a loss for Zacharia, not that he lived to see it. Days after turning Mars into the very antithesis of the Foundation’s manifesto, a sniper gunned him down. His son was in kindergarten at the time, and in his grief he ran away. Fate found him years later inside a mine, working in a union for pocket change. Someone else found him, as well.”
Cameron checked the monitor. They would break through to civilized space soon enough. He prayed Jerry could hold on that long.“Who found him?”
Jerry’s bloodshot eyes opened.“A young revolutionary with a shattered leg and silver tongue. The man who became the face of the failed rebellion.”He leaned forward, wheezing.“The man now called Jonah Blightman.”
* * * * *
“Rook takes bishop.”Jonah moved the ebony pillar across the board, sliding into place where the white piece once stood. He placed the taken figure on the side of the table next to the others. The field looked evenly matched, with an equal number of colors killed off. Alexander sat in his chair rubbing his stubbled chin. They’d been at it for over an hour, taking their time with each carefully thought out attack.
The High Chancellor took a sip from a tumbler of scotch, savoring the smooth spirit.“Always so aggressive. You’re opening yourself to attack.”He leaned forward, sliding an ornate statue of a horse and rider.“Check.”
Jonah smiled.“I forgot how much fun this was. Do you remember the old set?”
“You made it yourself,”Alexander said, the memory still bringing a feeling of warmth.“And I stole you the pieces.”
“Paper. You stole paper. You were never very good at playing the bad boy.”He relaxed in his chair, planning the next move.“I’m going to kill you.”
“I know. I’ve known you would for a while.”Alexander sipped from his cup.“I’m surprised you haven’t taken a shot at me before, but I guess you had your reasons.”He sighed.“Honestly, I don’t know how much longer I could have gone on anyway.”He chuckled.“Never was made to be a politician.”
The rebel nodded, drinking from his own glass.“So who blew up your ship?”
Alexander shrugged.“It was the Nangolani. Anduin used it as a way to provoke our action against the Boxti. I imagine it’s working like a charm.”
“The battle on New Eden is already lost. From what my men tell me, the southern portion of the planet is in the hands of the enemy. General Casey is missing or dead. A pity. I’ll have to finish your war after I take over.”
The High Chancellor scowled.“How will you fight them? The Fleet and the Military will follow the Council.”
“What Council?”Jonah asked.“The only members not aboard the Imperionare too weak to take control. They’ll follow anyone who sounds like an authority figure. And why would they risk taking on another enemy now?”He downed his scotch in one gulp.“We’ll destroy the relays. Shut down all nodes between here and Eros.”
“And condemn billions to death?”
Jonah slammed his fist on the table.“Sacrifices must be made, Alexander. You above all else should understand that. You used to know what it took to be a leader. What it meant to make hard choices for the good of the cause.”
Alexander shook his head.“You sound like my father. What good did all his preaching about‘the cause’do for him?”He ran a hand over his face.“Damn it, Jonah. I made my decision because I saw where the rebellion was headed.”
“The revolution.”
“No,”Alexander said.“It was a power play. We wanted rights and we got them. Then we got greedy. People were dying in the streets because our leaders wouldn’t accept that they’d won what we set out for.”He folded his arms, staring out the window into the gloomy night.“Ten years of bloodshed, and for what? Mars was worse after we were done, not better.”
Jonah bared his teeth.“You never believed in us. You were a coward and jumped at the chance to be the Council’s pet. They made you a hero, paved your way to the throne so you’d sell out everything we’d tried to build. You walked over the corpses of your own brothers and sisters because you were too scared to stay the course.”
“Whose course? Not ours. It was your recklessness. You and that old man you loved so much. So now you’re going to kill me. Execute the leader of the free worlds so you can prove...what? That the Hammer was right all along? That Mars was about more than just greed and the hunger for power?”He crossed his arms.“You never learn, Jonah. We were pawns back then. Cannon fodder used to prove a point to the rest of the galaxy. You saw how quickly they dropped their righteous act once the carriers appeared in the skies. Then it was all about who could surrender the fastest.”
Jonah had no answer. He peered down at the chess set, reaching out and sliding his king forward a space.“Your move.”
- XV -
Gehnom moved slowly through the immense blue tunnel, creeping closer and closer to Eros. Its massive engines churned. Weapon systems sat cold, unused for centuries. Thousands of life forms scurried about the various corridors, working to bring the ship back to operation. Had it belonged to any race other than the Boxti, the juggernaut could have been a symbol of unity. Over two hundred different species and races lived and worked aboard the monstrous craft, each toiling to make the death bringer operational.
Inside the command center, a Boxti paced. He wore a simple suit, with golden plates and a fine purple chain-link coverall. A gilded headdress sat on top of his wedge-shaped head. As he walked from one end of the bridge to the other, his thick carapace clicked and clacked. On his back sat a monstrous creature: a Badj-Druuma, the elder Parasite. Save the Clerics and Acolytes, the Ma’Arak of the Boxti was the highest-ranked member of the Horde. The term meant“Harbinger,”as the sight of the high commander was often the beginning of the end.
Vanwa the Ma’Arak’s rise to power had been slow and painful, and the honor of his position bought in blood. Like all those born away from the Homeworld, he had been treated with disdain. In the caste system of the conquering race, natives of Boxt held preference. They could easily join the Acolyte Order or the undefeated Dread Knights, and even request an audience with the Enclave. Those born off-world were considered somehow weaker, and were forced to serve their“betters.”To rise in ranks required great sacrifice, which Vanwa had done eagerly. His ambition had been rewarded by the highest Clerics, and now he was the vessel through which the Great Conquest would be won.
He oversaw the grandest ship in the Boxti fleet, an honor which would bring pride to a less devout member of the Horde. His connection to the King was the strongest of any warrior in the armada. Even though he commanded only one vessel, the officer was revered. It didn’t hurt that he was an accomplished warrior. Vanwa’s exploits against long-dead civilizations were repeated in hushed tones across the galaxy. All twenty-feet of him bore scars from countless battles: pits and cracks and jagged fractures in his dark brown chitin, and an a hole where once had been an eye.
Various pillars of swirling particles rose from the floor at each station on the bridge. These control nodes allowed the technicians that ran them to completely interface with the master control system of the ship. In effect, they became an extension of the juggernaut. Operating in“the vapor,”the Boxti could react in a fraction of the time of their enemy. Not that the crew needed many advantages. Gehnom had been constructed as a weapon of unmatched defense as well as offense. Its armor placed standoff at seven meters in the thinnest joint. Nothing short of a thermonuclear penetrator would even leave a mark.
Vanwa took his position at the center of the chamber, sinking into a specially designed pool. The original commander had been a Dlakan, a water-based species with frog-like faces and flabby-skinned bodies. Boxt had little liquid to speak of, and Vanwa found the sensation of submersion deeply relaxing. With the surface just under his mout
h, Vanwa meditated and waited for arrival.
Their journey was almost complete. As Gehnomhad been built long before the perfection of Blue technology, it took nearly ten times as long to cross through the void as modern-day ships. In a few hours they would breach real space near the Human planet. Orders from the King Himself ordered the use of the weapon on New Eden as a demonstration of power. It wasn’t a decision made lightly, but these creatures continued to attack without provocation. That the juggernaut had been roused from the Wastes made it clear to the Horde that this war should not be taken lightly. In its life, the immense ship had been used only once to pacify a particularly invasive species.
Like the humans, the monsters attacked one of the vanguards without cause. The bipedal beasts had been quite advanced, and their guerrilla tactics killed thousands upon thousands of Ruall. After years of war and negotiations, the Boxti had been forced to awaken their slumbering giant. Vanwa had never even thought to question the order. With a few simple commands and the aid of his crew, Gehnomerased a planet from existence. The commander remembered with some discomfort the violent shaking as the gravitational forces of the planet tore the world asunder. Though he was a true believer in the Groll‘Nhaja, it had still been a heavy burden to bare.
He struggled to remember the name of the unfortunate rock. It had been so long ago, and even as a Ruall the Badj-Druuma did not allow him to replenish the damaged cells in his brain. As he reminisced, Kruchat djun Fala approached. The Chtanul was Vanwa’s second-in-command, though merely a servant of the Horde and not yet a full member of the race. She did not know, but the honor of Ruall had been selected for her many years before. Vanwa kept delaying the ceremony as he felt the underling still held back feelings for her conquered race.
When the Stars Fade (The Gray Wars) Page 49