The Complete New Dominion Trilogy

by Drury, Matthew J.

  On Machiko’s tactical display, the Retribution still showed no sign of damage, and was blinking slowly to indicate it was powering up its main weapon. Obviously, Damarus was planning to begin an orbital bombardment of the Earth with the ship’s infamous Tachyon cannon. Like a spaceborne demon, the Retribution drifted toward the sunny side of the planet.

  “Okay, Omicron Squadron,” Paramo said. “You are authorised to proceed. Operation Insertion is Go. Repeat, Operation Insertion is Go.”

  At last, the words Machiko was waiting for. Immediately, she dropped and rolled her fighter, came about and headed straight for the Retribution.

  “See you soon, Lora,” she said, her heart pounding so hard in her chest she thought it might explode.

  “Copy that,” Chen came back.

  Soon, the sky ahead was full of ship. More than five-and-a-half kilometres from end to end, the vast Empyreal Sun flagship filled her visual field. At this range, all she could see were savannas of sand-coloured hull studded with particle cannon mountains that lit up space with their thunderbolts of disintegrating energy.

  And the immense ship was getting bigger.

  Fast.

  “Omicron Squadron, this is Omicron Leader. Head for the tertiary hangar,” Machiko instructed. She jerked and twisted her head around to see Lorelei Chen’s fighter just above her tail, and the others forming up behind her. When she turned back, she stared bleakly at the yawning hangar bay ahead.

  “We’re going in,” she said. A fierce, adrenaline-fuelled glee rushed through her as he whipped the tiny fighter along, but the good feeling didn’t last long. As she neared the hangar bay door, a plasma blast from an automated turret cannon struck her fighter a solid blow, knocking it into a stomach-lurching spin. Machiko screamed, fighting desperately to regain control.

  “Having a little trouble here,” she hissed, fighting to stabilise her stricken craft. More plasma fire whipped all about her as the automated guns tried to bring her down, but she was past them in a microsecond, rocketing into the hangar. Reverse thrusters on full power, dodging transports, Mechs, fighters, and stacks of supplies, she struggled to keep her fighter airborne as she looked for a place to land.

  “Machiko!” she heard Chen screaming. “Stop!”

  “I’m trying!”

  She struck the decking and bounced, reverse thrusters powering up in an effort to brake the craft. A bulkhead loomed ahead, blocking the way. Machiko brought the fighter down on the decking with a bone-jarring thud and held it there, skidding down the rampway, trailing a fan of white-hot sparks and a scream of tortured metal. The fighter slowed and did a half turn, coming to an unsteady halt. The power drive stalled and then failed completely.

  Machiko breathed a sigh of relief, blinking sweat out of her eyes. “Omicron Squadron, this is Omicron Leader. Come back.”

  “We’re down, Machiko,” Chen told her. “Ready for Phase Two.”

  One press of a button and the fighter’s canopy burst away, ripped into the air by a hurricane of escaping gas. Machiko flipped herself out of the battered craft and landed catfooted on the blackened floor - still hot enough to scorch the feet of her Rãvier suit.

  That was the easy part, she thought, her eyes scanning her immediate surroundings. Now, things would start getting a lot more difficult.

  Machiko’s father, Takayuki Famasika, and the rest of the family were halfway across the last pedestrian bridge outside the Silver City’s Eastern Port Facility when a deafening crackle roared out of the sky and shook the surrounding skyscrapers and jewel-like spires. Reflexes conditioned to instant reaction by his years of military service, Takayuki dropped and looked for the source of the trouble. He found it in the form of a million orange fireballs reflecting off the window panes of a hundred buildings, silhouetting the dazed figure of his wife, Natsuko, and their children - Minako, Aika and Izanami.

  Like almost everyone else on the bridge, Natsuko was still standing upright, craning her neck to see what was making all the noise. Takayuki grasped her elbow and pulled her down beside him.

  “Get down, all of you!”

  The smell of ozone and ash wafted down on a hot wind. A building-sized fireball roared overhead and impacted half a kilometre in the air, vaporising forty floors of a residential arcology tower and blasting the walls out of three of the adjacent levitating monoliths. The shock wave cleared the air of traffic, then hit the bridge and turned the air as hot as a Proserpina drought. Minako was blown off her feet, and a hundred other screaming pedestrians were swept off the bridge. The younger children began to scream with terror.

  “We have to get off this bridge,” Takayuki said, rising.

  Making sure the family was together, he started to push forward through the crowd. With the battle for Earth now being fought in an orbit so low the weapon discharges looked like a colossal skydazzle show, the planet was being bombarded with a steady rain of flaming spacecraft. The kilometre-long walk from the family home had been one long smoke-stroll, and twice they had been forced to detour around impact craters where the bridge came to an abrupt end a hundred metres above the stump of a truncated building.

  “How much farther is it to the bunker?” Minako asked, sounding confused, exhausted, and scared.

  Takayuki shook his head. “Not much farther, Minako. Another kilometre, maybe…”

  The real question was - would they really be any safer there from the wrath of Lord Damarus?

  28

  On the bridge of the Retribution, Sai’bot smiled in anticipation as Lord Damarus gave the order to fire the Tachyon cannon. The bridge crew went smoothly into action, preparing all the necessary systems which would be employed. Sai’bot admired the crew. They were some of the best and most loyal subjects ever to serve the Holy Emperor. They were efficient and skilled, and completely loyal to Him. At a time like this, Sai’bot was really only comfortable on the bridge itself, surrounded by such devout professionals. Elsewhere on the Retribution, he was unnerved by the presence of mercenaries and other such vulgar characters, who had only agreed to join the cause of the Empyreal Sun for monetary reward, as opposed to their religious convictions. They filled him with a deep revulsion and sent a chill through him whenever he saw them.

  As night turned into day on the Earth below, the sun flaring into life on the viewscreen, Sai’bot turned to look behind him at the special platform above the bridge. There sat Lord Damarus on a throne-like chair. He was in something called a meditation trance, supposedly in contact with God Himself. The Holy Emperor had told Sai’bot privately that destroying the planet ahead would increase his power and connection to the All. Sai’bot had struggled to include the Power of the All in his humble view of reality, but after seeing the Master reborn, he believed many things were possible. He looked forward to reclaiming the Terran Alliance and erasing the heretical Neodisestablishmentarianists from existence.

  The Retribution moved smoothly into firing range. “All crew stand ready,” called out Sai’bot. He glanced once more at his Master’s still form. “Commence primary firing sequence.”

  The Retribution began to vibrate subtly. It was the barest indication of the incomprehensible forces about to be unleashed through the main Tachyon cannon. The power of this ship intoxicated Sai’bot. Within a matter of hours, the planet below would be turned into nothing more than a mass of molten rock, before simply ceasing to exist. And just maybe, before too long, he would see Lord Damarus restored unquestionably as the Master of All Things.

  Sai’bot was just about to give the order to fire, when he felt a startling and frightening constriction at his throat. His breath was choked off, and panicked, he grabbed at his neck to force away the hands that held it so painfully. To his horror, he discovered that there was nothing there. Terror surged up inside him, but there was nothing he could do. Some kind of invisible force was killing him, crushing his life, he realised in his final moments. Dimly, he saw that the officers around him were stricken as well.

  How?

 
Darkness crept in on his vision, and then, as he struggled to comprehend, he thought he could see Cristian Stefánsson standing nearby, his right hand raised and palm extended, commanding these invisible forces with nothing but the power of his mind. It was something Sai’bot had witnessed centuries earlier, when his own homeworld had been destroyed… but how could it be happening now? Cristian Stefánsson… the man was dead! Sai’bot had seen his body fall at the ancient Xeilig city with his own eyes. On the other hand, the Holy Emperor had been resurrected, had he not?

  Perhaps no one really died at all. Perhaps this wasn’t the end, but only a beginning…

  It was the last thought that went through Sai’bot’s decaying mind before the darkness enveloped him completely, and he was dead.

  Lord Damarus let the Power of the All flow through his entire body. He could sense the balance of the dark against the light, the natural equilibrium of things. Soon, he would disrupt that balance in a violent assault against nature itself. The strength of the Eidolon was his again, and once again he was its greatest servant. But his servitude was not slavery; it was a position of ultimate mortal power. He was far above all other living beings. This was given to him to know by the Eidolon itself.

  This he believed absolutely.

  The planet Earth below was filled with life. Despite a recent mass extinction, its oceans and continents were still populated by many creatures, and the Twelve major human cities - plus the various nomadic settlements inbetween - teemed with over a trillion human lives. Its loss would be strongly felt by the other worlds of the Terran Alliance, but it was necessary to teach them, to teach all peoples… that He was Forever. Anyone who crossed him faced Eternal Damnation. The destruction of Earth would be the unequivocal proof.

  Despite being in a trance, Damarus was partly aware of his surroundings. He heard the command to commence the primary firing sequence as if it was spoken at a great distance. This was it. He was ready to reclaim his title as Holy Emperor of the Terran Alliance.

  But wait…

  Something was wrong…

  The command to fire had not been given.

  Damarus realised two things at the same moment. The entire bridge crew, including Sai’bot, was dead, and he was completely surrounded by Rãvier—suited figures, their arms holding disruptor pistols and pointing them toward him. In a lucid moment of illumination, he realised that one of them was… Cristian Stefánsson?

  Then, devastating blasts of disruptor fire slammed into him from the ten pistols that surrounded him. He was the centre of a bright wheel of agony, its spokes twisting through fiery arcs that burned into him. The air shrieked, or perhaps it was Damarus. He was off the throne, then falling from the platform, but there was no relief as the ten figures moved with him, their circle shrinking as they closed in. The rapid-fire, writhing bolts of powerful energy illuminated the face of his human host body as it screamed with hatred and surprise.

  Barely able to think, Damarus rolled his tortured body towards one side of the circle, seizing on a desperate plan. His hand thrust out, commanding the Power of the All, and an invisible wave plunged full into Cristian Stefánsson’s heart. The man make a yelping sound which turned into a liquid gurgle, and he died instantly.

  “No!” one of the women screamed.

  The circle was broken, and Damarus dragged himself to his feet. His respite lasted no longer than that. Recovering from their shock at Cris’ death, the other nine figures unleashed another barrage of disruptor fire, but this time he was prepared for them. Laughing, his raised hand deflected the bolts, sending them rebounding around the chamber.

  Now Damarus was right where he wanted to be. He brushed aside the dead hand of one of the bridge crew, a gunner, next to him and grasped the firing lever of the primary Tachyon cannon. With pain-filled fingers, he drew it towards him.

  The Retribution became a titanic energy weapon. An unbearably bright bar of yellow light appeared between the ship and the planet Earth, bisecting the blackness of space. For an instant, the ship and the planet were linked, and then a sixth of the planet’s surface water seemed to boil away under the assault. The rocky ocean floor beneath lasted a moment longer, then it, too, wavered within the bar of light and was consumed by a fiery orange glow.

  On the bridge of the Retribution, Lorelei Chen ignored the spectacle and relentlessly pressed the attack. Hot tears scorched her face, running freely down her cheeks now. Her shoulders buckled under heavy emotions, her mind whirled, unable to accept what was happening.

  Cris was dead!

  No! Not again!

  “I hate you!” she roared, still firing her disruptor, walking toward him. The bolts never struck him.

  A shimmering sphere had appeared around Damarus, a coruscating globe of light that completely encased his prone form. The disruptor bolts smashed into the sphere, but did not penetrate it. The wild play of fierce energies turned the sphere into a ball of golden flame. A moment later, all the power of the attack was hurled back at the attackers, vastly increased in magnitude. As one, they turned to flee, but shock waves of heat overtook all of them. They were crushed to the deck. Three of them were reduced to vaguely man-shaped masses of char and ash, and the others were either dead or heavily wounded. There hadn’t even been a chance to scream.

  A tense silence settled over the bridge. The sphere continued to shimmer for a few moments, then it winked out. Revealed within was the battered, yet still standing form of Lord Damarus. His eyes glowed with a baleful light, and black flames seemed to play along his limbs.

  Nothing could stop him now.

  Queen Neferneferu’aten sat upon her throne, surrounded by robotic servants. She was serene and aloof, detached from everything, as if what was taking place had no effect on her, could not touch her in any way.

  Princess Esme’s voice echoed through the cavernous chamber, rising to the high, vaulted ceiling, bouncing off the smooth, sunlit walls. “Surely, Your Majesty, the time has come to fire the Array. We can wait no longer. Our world is on the brink of destruction.”

  Neferneferu’aten nodded solemnly. “Give the order.”

  The insistent beeping of a computer terminal distracted Damarus, and he moved to the console to see what was happening. He was on the deck of the crew pit of the Retribution. All around him were dead bodies, his officers, Sai’bot. On the upper walkway were several dead bodies, including Cristian Stefánsson. One or two were merely unconscious - including Lorelei Chen - but they were in no fit state to challenge him now.

  The computer told him that a massive energy surge was taking place on the five Earth Towers below, synchronising together as one. Damarus knew what that meant. He had designed the Array, after all.

  He took a step away from the terminal, as if he could deny its message with distance. He shut his eyes. His head tilted back. The confusion he felt at the presence of Cristian Stefánsson here left his awareness. His hands became fists. Anger was there, in that moment, ravening, demanding release. He held it in, stoked its fire. The anger flared into rage, but he held it in, concentrating it deep within, at his centre.

  Rage.

  How dare they try to use his own weapon against him?

  Power.

  Power was everywhere, waiting to be used. It only needed an outlet. The rage was like a cold iron gate within him, closed against the power. He began to make the gate larger. The gate holding back the power grew. It now felt like it was metres thick, and yet it shook massively.

  The Master cried out in rage… and then the Universe answered.

  Damarus opened the gate.

  And a new thing was born into the galaxy.

  Outside the Retribution, a colossal vortex of time and space began to grow. It spun ponderously, and soon, it had become a vast funnel-like storm. Damarus was struck with awe. The storm was his, and it wanted to destroy. Could he control it? The image of the five Earth Towers filled his mind.

  The Array will not fire.

  The storm responded to his command. T
he great vortex roared down through the Earth’s atmosphere, tearing the five Earth Towers apart as if they were nothing more than children’s playthings, eradicating everything unlucky enough to be in its path. The storm picked up velocity, and within moments, it was above Laputa.

  The gargantuan Storm descended upon the Silver City. As it enveloped the gleaming metropolis, buildings were torn up whole and went soaring up into the vortex, fragmenting as they rose. Damarus’ punishment claimed many lives that day. Thousands of innocent people were swallowed up by the storm and lost. Queen Neferneferu’aten, too, met her doom in that merciless chaos. The Palace building was pulled from its foundation and lifted towards the vortex of annihilation. It shattered under the stress on the way, and Neferneferu’aten suddenly found herself cast from the wreckage into mid-air. The greatest horror was that she did not fall. Fully aware, she rose toward the enormous whirlpool in the sky. She thought he could hear Damarus laughing and laughing. Then her body was taken apart by the storm, and the unending chaos that went with it.

  Lord Damarus laughed, a sound of sadistic mirth. Great things were coming to him. The entire galaxy would soon bow at his feet.

  And how could it not be so?

  For who could truly resist His Power?

  Lorelei Chen stirred, moaning with pain that issued from a dislocated shoulder. She blinked her eyes open, taking in her surroundings. She was still on the bridge of the Retribution. The mission had failed. Cris and the others were dead. Was this what her future self had meant about meeting her fate?

  “Cris…” she wept, and tried to stand, but the pain was too much. She collapsed, rolled over onto her back and lay there for a while, crying quietly to herself. Her entire world was crumbling away from her, in more ways than one. She felt like she was spiralling down into darkness, with no possible way out.