Renegades (Dark Seas Book 3)

by Damon Alan

  As they lay down to rest they discussed Emille’s feat.

  “What you’ve done is a game changer against everyone who would threaten our peoples, Emille. Do you think you can teach other adepts to teleport as you’ve learned?”

  Her sigh was so loud he thought for a minute she was angry. But when she spoke she sounded resigned. “Peter, you are the teacher. But you can’t seem to learn sometimes. Adepts can share each others’ minds. For some things, such as mind sharing or moving heat, learning is a matter of reliving the experience, sharing the reality that the teaching adept discovered.”

  “Is that immediate?”

  “It is almost so. The language our minds speak, even yours, is a thousand times more efficient than the language that spills from our mouths,” she shared. “Sometimes I wonder if that isn’t why some adepts get angry with the non-gifted. It’s as if you were speaking to a well-trained dog as far as communication is concerned.”

  He snorted. “Well, that’s not offensive.”

  Silence took them for a while. He thought about her new talent. Does she have a range? Does she have a limit to how often she can do it? Probably, she was very tired after this first effort. Does an adept’s grasp of the gift have to be as powerful as hers?

  If so she might be the only one who had this ability.

  “No,” she said. “But there won’t be as many as you hope.”

  “You’ve learned to read my mind.”

  She laughed. “No, but Alarin has. Sadly, I have to learn that myself. Your minds are too complex for me to gather the ability from his memory.”

  “Alarin is not here, but as his mate, I am able to share in some of his abilities. It comes with the closeness of sexually shared minds.”

  Peter blushed. “So you do have limits. Sometimes that’s frustrating to me. Other times it’s a relief.”

  She laughed.

  “Do you know where your powers end?” he asked.

  “You will help me find out, my friend.” She rolled over in her bed. “Now go to sleep. I’m not getting any less tired and I have to do this again tomorrow.”

  It was his turn to laugh. She sounded like she was complaining about her day job.

  Chapter 47 - Reward Reaped

  01 Huni 15329

  Orson grinned as the Schein settled into an orbit over Halvi, ten kilometers behind the behemoth colony ship Gaia. The vessel was ten kilometers long and full of potential.

  How could he not be happy?

  It was unbelievably huge. Apparently the ancients believed in bringing it all with them. What was important, of course, was how many of the things they brought were still on that ship. That and the fact that the monstrous vessel had the only FTL drive in the system.

  “Full sensors, sweep the area,” he ordered.

  “Aye, sir,” Sergeant Stornbeck answered. Now that Andersott had ramped up production of his pharmaceutical, more of the Schein’s women were cooperating.

  Orson had never had it so good.

  There was even better news.

  Yesterday Andersott said long term therapy with the drug would create a woman that was unable to be non-compliant, even if the drug treatment ended.

  Orson had ordered him to set aside a group of women to use for a test of how long that process would take.

  He wanted Heinrich to be irreversibly his.

  The thought made him look at her. It was true. He was developing feelings for a woman he’d hated with a vengeance just a few months prior. It was strange to think of her as more than a source of pleasure. But, he had to admit, he was starting to care for this Heinrich. The submissive one. The one that complied to his every whim.

  She was intently studying the sensor returns to see if the Seventh Fleet had anything up their sleeves… or in Halvi orbit.

  She must have felt Orson’s eyes. “Nothing to report, Captain. There are no other ships nearby, no satellites, no anomalies.”

  “Good,” he answered. “Jace, is everyone ready to go once we dock with the Gaia?”

  “We have a dozen compliant marines ready to board. There should be no resistance, but if there is, we’re ready.”

  “If there is, we subjugate them with force,” Orson spat out. “Then we punish the Seventh Fleet for not explaining to these women how this works, right XO?”

  “If we need to retaliate against Refuge or other ships,” Heinrich tapped the console in front of her, “I have our missiles warm in their tubes. I’ve added in the ground attack railguns to punish the natives.

  He looked at her, puzzled.

  “We won’t be able to get specific about our targets from this distance. But it won’t matter. What will matter is the result when four kilogram projectiles hit the ground.”

  “Innovative,” Orson said in compliment. “I like that.”

  She nodded her head to accept his praise.

  “Bring us in on our prize, Heinrich, and put it on the main screen. I want to see what we killed so many people to obtain.”

  The Schein’s maneuvering thrusters fired, pushing the warship toward the other vessel. As they moved forward, they passed several fuel tanks as large as their ship. Six of them circled around the central spar of the Gaia.

  “Antimatter tanks,” Jace said.

  “Full?” Orson asked.

  “No, but according to the reports our friend sent us, full enough. We have as many jumps as we’ll need.”

  Jace was right. They didn’t need to be full, it was probably better that they weren’t. Eventually they’d have to rid themselves of the Gaia, thousands of tons of antimatter floating around in their new home system didn’t seem like a good idea.

  They passed the FTL core, which fit gracefully into the design of the vessel, unlike the Stennis. It was the size difference of the Gaia relative to the Stennis, of course, the colony ship was massive enough so that the drive housing didn’t jut out.

  After the drive several habitation rings sat, gently counter-rotating with each other to balance out torsion on the ship’s spar. This ship had originally carried a crew of tens of thousands, and the living space showed that. Forward of the rings large rectangular holds held ancient cargo. Probably mostly empty, but there would be things in there that would be useful once the mutineers reached their new home.

  “I’m so excited, my thoughts are getting ahead of us,” Orson said. “How far forward is this docking hatch?”

  “The bridge is at the front of the vessel, an outdated design,” Stornbeck said. “The only universal docking collar on the ship is located there.”

  Orson had assigned Stornbeck, once she’d been drugged and imprinted on Jace, to study everything available in the fleet records about the Gaia. She now knew it better than anyone onboard, which made her a vital part of the bridge crew.

  Later she’d be transferred to the crew of the colony ship as part of the team to fire up the ancient singularity drive and get the mutineers, and their bounty, away from the Oasis system as fast as possible.

  “Then get us there and docked,” Orson ordered Heinrich.

  “This is as fast as we can safely approach,” Heinrich countered. “Do you wish to set aside safety?”

  Even drugged she was still sort of a bitch.

  Which for some reason, he sort of liked.

  He sighed. “No, XO, do your thing. Stars know I’d just drive us into it and kill us all.”

  They passed more structures. Stornbeck said they were labs, embryo chambers, and machine shops. Not that he cared. The people who designed the ship originally had cared, so that was good enough for him. Of course they’d have all that was needed to colonize a planet.

  After what seemed like an eternity they docked.

  He called Andersott to the bridge to take charge, as Orson left he took Jace along. Together they’d board the prize. Jace was a weak tool, but he was still Orson’s most loyal follower. Once the Gaia was secured, Stornbeck and Heinrich would board to prep for departure.

  They met the dozen marines
at the airlock, along with two other men from the original mutineers. The marines were imprinted to these men.

  They floated, waiting until the digital gauge on the wall indicated air pressure equilibrium with the colony ship.

  “Open the airlock,” Orson ordered.

  The men took position behind the marines, who raised their combat rifles toward the opening airlock.

  He frowned heavily as the thick doors opened and a scent not unlike his grandmother’s apartment seeped into the airlock chamber.

  “Smells like farts and linen,” Jace commented.

  The odor irritated him and it was annoying for his thoughts to be echoed. “Shut up. Do you have the welcoming packages for our new friends?”

  Jace waved at the marines assembled in front of him. “Each of the ladies is carrying one of our medical kits. Being marines, they’re trained in field first aid.”

  With a clang the doors locked wide open.

  The gangway to the ancient vessel was empty. The door at the far end was closed.

  “No welcoming committee?” Jace commented. “These women better not make us search the ship for them.”

  The door opened and a woman looked through. The look on her face was amusing, almost as if she realized a life defining moment was happening. Apparently it was a definition she didn’t like.

  She slapped the close mechanism and the door shut as the boarding team pulled themselves down the gangway toward it.

  “I’ll take that one,” one of the men said. “She’s stupid. I like ‘em stupid.”

  Orson laughed.

  When they are bound to do whatever their man wants, intelligence mattered not one bit. At least a smart one like Heinrich could carry on a conversation about something other than gun oil. “Just get the door open,” he ordered the man. “Then send in the marines to secure the area.”

  Once the way was clear, the women rushed in, their guns at the ready position.

  “Moira? What are you doing working with Orson?” he heard a voice ask from out of his view.

  “Shut your stupid face,” was the response.

  He heard the distinct sound of rifle butt to flesh. He pushed off the bulkhead and floated in. “Whoa, whoa, there’ll be none of that,” he said as he helped stop the struck woman’s zero-G tumbling. “That’s no way to treat one of your new sisters.”

  The woman he’d helped looked at him with hatred in her eyes. That brought him joy, knowing that shortly she’d be waving her behind at him if that’s what he wanted.

  “It’s all good, honey,” Orson cooed. “You’re going to find true happiness now. I’m going to give you what every woman wants.”

  She didn’t say anything, but with the business ends of several guns covering her, she looked away at the floor.

  He didn’t care. She was going to be tamed anyway. “All of you against that wall. You’ll be taken five at a time to the boarding gangway for a medical exam, then brought on board the Schein so we can show you exactly why you’ll want to side with us. Shortly you will be happy to leave the fleet behind.”

  More looks of hate. They stared at him. It was a bit disconcerting.

  “Jace, make this happen,” Orson said, angry.

  Jace waved at one of the other men, who moved forward and bellowed orders to the women. “You’ll do as your told, or you’ll be shot. Getting shot in the leg hurts and you’ll be in no condition to argue with anything after that.” He pointed at the wall. “So do yourselves a favor and make a line against that bulkhead.”

  The volunteers reluctantly moved to the wall and secured their tethers.

  Except for one near one of the mutineers.

  She reached out, grabbed the man by the neck. She then flipped her body over his, using him as an anchor, and locked her legs around him to brace herself. The next sound Orson heard was the sickening sound of the man’s neck vertebrae disintegrating.

  Several of the other volunteers pushed away from the bulkhead they’d lined up against. Others quickly followed.

  The marines on Orson’s team shot most of them before they reached their targets. The sound was deafening in the airlock loading chamber. An acrid scent filled the air. The marine that had killed Orson’s teammate was the only one to successfully reach her target.

  Those that weren’t shot quickly realized they were losing, and stood down.

  Jace grabbed Orson by the arm, indicating they move to the airlock doors. For safety.

  Groans and sounds of pain filled the room. Blood floated everywhere, and several of the fifty women were either unconscious or dead. It looked like most had been shot in the legs, however.

  Jace tugged at him again. He pointed to the wall.

  That wasn’t going to work. Orson wanted to be in the thick of the process as these women were subdued. “Problem?”

  “These are marines, Orson, not common navy personnel,” Jace said. “Some of them might still have fight in them. We’re in serious danger.”

  “We have twelve armed ladies on our side,” Orson countered. “Also marines, and completely loyal. Besides, not all the volunteers attacked.”

  “Because they didn’t have a plan,” Jace replied. “By the time they figured it out, several of them were already shot.”

  “So what is their goal? Subdue us and take back the ships?”

  “Probably,” Jace agreed. “Whatever it is, they’ll tell us soon. And it will have failed.”

  Their ploy had a desperation to it that amused Orson. He assumed this was the last roll of the die for the command staff of the Seventh Fleet. And it had already failed.

  He wondered how many were dead. Orson wouldn’t care, but he hated to lose breeding stock. “Get Andersott over here to save the ones he can.”

  “We can’t risk him either,” Jace said. “He’s the only medically trained person we have.”

  Orson growled. He didn’t like not being complied with. But Jace was right.

  Orson relented. “Then let’s get them processed. They won’t try anything else at gunpoint, and they’re going to be injected as soon as they get to the gangway. By the time they get to the medbay, they’ll be ready to start the imprinting process. Andersott can treat them there. If a few more die…” He looked back at the women. “… so be it.”

  Jace seemed to appreciate that plan. “I’ll make it happen.”

  “We’ll do it like this,” Orson said. “Four marines in here to guard the large group. Two more of our ladies in the gangway giving shots, and the other six in the gangway to make sure nobody gets out of control and onto the Schein without being restrained properly.”

  Jace nodded. “That should work. What do you want to do with—” Jace waved at their dead comrade.

  Orson shrugged. “Toss him out of an airlock.”

  As Jace left to take care of business, Orson listened as the marines bellowed orders. He watched from the safety of the airlock gangway as the helpless women had their mouths taped to prevent any collusion or planning. They were led two at a time, injected, and then led away.

  The women still in the holding area had no idea what was happening in the gangway, and even if they did they wouldn’t know the effect of the shot they were being given. In a few days they’d be new women. Useful women.

  Receptive women.

  As they passed, Orson tagged eight of them as his.

  The one that had managed to kill one of his men was the smallest of the bunch, he took her for himself.

  She sure looked young, probably not a day over eighteen.

  Chapter 48 - Army

  Start of Longnight

  After Eislen and Salla were married, the caravan master cleared a wagon for them so they could privately enjoy the longnight as tradition dictated.

  His men enjoyed rest, good food, and company. They’d been marching for several cycles, and before that was their time at sea. It had been some time since they’d tasted some of life’s joys. Instead many of them marched wondering if their lives were done.

&nb
sp; The fishermen turned soldiers weren’t idle during the stay. They helped repair wagons, which wasn’t much different than maintenance on a ship. The roads were hard on wooden wheels.

  They laughed, and played games, forging the bonds that would serve them in coming battles.

  They met young ladies.

  They also drew lots for the iron weapons the Zeffulti soldiers no longer needed. Elvanik won the iron tipped pike, so returned Eislen’s knife, who then handed it off to another man. It was important for all to feel their worth.

  The troop practiced archery and melee fighting by torchlight.

  And they talked, spreading the word of their purpose.

  They told the caravaners about Eislen, except for the part about him being an adept. That was a secret for only the men of the boat, at least until more needed to know. There was no sense in alerting the surviving adepts of Zeffult that one of them was no longer playing the corrupt game.

  The men told the traders of their mission to bring the old ways back. They spoke of how Eislen had saved their lives, and in return they’d sworn their fealty to him.

  When the longnight was over and Faroo once again lit the green sky, several men and women of the caravan wanted to leave with Eislen’s army.

  The wagon master looked troubled.

  “You need these men?” Eislen asked. “And the women?”

  The leader of the traders nodded. “The women are free to choose their path. I need the labor of the men, however. I will have to leave two wagons here if they leave us.”

  “Of course,” Eislen said. “They are your drivers, your loaders.”

  “And my family,” the man said.

  “Yes, they are. I can’t forget that,” Eislen agreed. “My men either have no families or lost them recently. The attack on the capital saw to that. They fight for that reason, among others.”

  “And none would mourn their passing as I would my sons and nephews. That is a sad place to be.”

  “You’re wrong. These men have become their own family. They are blood now. But I understand your reluctance. Your family, however, would become mine. And mine, yours,” Eislen offered. “If you let the young men who wish to join me follow, I will leave the same number with you. Starting with my wounded, but only a couple are unable to work.”