The Complete Void Wraith Saga

by Chris Fox

  "Get saddled up. Annie, you can pilot your mech. I'll ride on the shoulder mount. Nuchik, you can do the same with Hannan's mech. Circle south, and see if we can keep that big hill between us and them until after dark." Nolan ordered.

  "Move, people," Hannan boomed. The squad leapt into motion.

  In moments, they were ready to move out. Nolan scaled Annie's mech, carefully resting against the missile tubes along the shoulder. For once, he wasn't upset about the lack of ordnance. Sitting on top of loaded tubes seemed like a recipe for becoming fine red mist.

  Annie's mech loped through the darkness, knocking Nolan about. He clung to the missile tubes, teeth chattering as the wind picked up. He was almost as annoyed about losing his helmet as he was his mech. Sissus was going to pay.

  The squad moved in silence, using nothing but their running lights to illuminate the path. It wasn't comfortable, but Nolan didn't mind a little discomfort if it got him into position for a little payback. Their plan to deliver the payload had been perfect, but thanks to Sissus, T'kon could already be dead.

  They circled the wide stone hill, a single piece of granite that had glowed in the light of the setting sun. Now it loomed in the darkness, shielding their progress from Sissus and his Saurians.

  They reached the end of the rock, and Nolan spotted lights in the distance.

  "Sir, I've got a confirmed sighting on the ship," Hannan whispered into the comm. Her mech had ranged about half a click ahead.

  "Get into position with Nuchik, and give me footage as soon as you have it. Annie, go the opposite direction. Set up at a ninety-degree angle so we'll have a crossfire."

  The squad executed his orders, their bulky shapes moving off into the darkness.

  Nolan focused on the lights, which grew larger as they approached. The ship was parked on a rocky clearing, its ramp open. Half a dozen Saurians were clustered around a scaffold they'd erected beneath the engines, effecting repairs.

  "I've got a visual on Sissus," Nuchik said over the comm.

  "Hannan, what else do you see?" Nolan demanded.

  "The Saurians look confused. I think they're having problems with the repairs. There are scorch marks around the engine, probably a blown thruster."

  "Sir," Nuchik began, "if I'm going to take the shot--"

  "Hold your fire, Nuchik. It's okay if--"

  A streak of blue lit the night, streaking toward the parked cruiser. Nolan couldn't make out details at this range, but the shot caught a Saurian in the head. It was flung backwards twenty meters and didn't rise. The shot sent its companions into a panic, and they began scrambling for weapons.

  "What the hell was that, Nuchik?" Hannan demanded. "You just disobeyed a direct order."

  "I had a shot, and I took--," Nuchik began.

  "We'll deal with your insubordination later," Nolan cut in. "For now, we have a fight to win. Annie, Hannan--close to short range. Warning shots only. We've got mechs, and they've got a wounded bird. We've already won this fight. There's no reason anyone else has to die."

  "There was every reason for that bastard to die," Nuchik snarled over the comm. "That scaly traitor betrayed us, and I don't leave enemies behind."

  "You know," Hannan said. "For someone who looked down on the 14th, you've got a real discipline problem, Nuchik. If the old UFC was around, you'd have been right at home with us slackers."

  "I. Said. Stow it!" Nolan roared. "I am in no mood for this crap. Secure that ship. Now."

  Hannan's mech advanced into the lights around the ship, followed by Annie's. At the sight of the mechs, the Saurians immediately ceased all resistance. They laid down next to the ramp, and placed their hands behind their backs.

  "All right people, get those Saurians disarmed and into the ship. Aluki, do you have access to the comm?" Nolan asked.

  "Mmm, I'm here, Captain." Aluki's tone was contrite. "Apologies for the hasty departure, but I wasn't given much choice by the Saurians."

  "I'm just glad you're safe. I'm going to need you and Annie to get that engine up and running. We need to get T'kon, and we need to do it before dawn."

  Nolan's teeth continued to chatter, and he was grateful when Annie's mech finally ducked inside the hangar.

  He only hoped they could still pull this off.

  25

  Knock, Knock

  T’kon sank into a lotus position, tucking his legs underneath him. He held his back straight, his head erect. The motion had been performed hundreds of times, though never in front of so many onlookers. Every member of the Azi warrior caste was present, as were an alarming number of seekers.

  After he’d come to a full resting position, other Ganog began to do the same. They settled to the chamber’s smooth grey stone, dozens of the most influential Azi. T’kon knew them all, had fought and laughed with them. There was no laughter today.

  The warriors wore grim, grey fur, marking the gravity of the ceremony. They knew one of their own was about to die. The black-robes’ expressions were more dour, as if they disapproved, or were simply impatient to be about whatever their dark work might demand.

  “T’kon of the Azi clan.” Ro’kan’s clear voice carried through the room. He stepped around to stand in front of T’kon, cutting an impressive figure in his full ceremonial armor. The azure armor hugged an impressively muscled physique, one even T’kon had to admit was worthy of a warrior. In his hands, Ro’kan cradled Azi’s Fang, the weapon that T’kon had wielded for four years while he’d held the position of clan leader. “Today, we have come to accept your atonement. Today, your transgressions are wiped clean, your body prepared, your soul placed before the Nameless Ones.”

  T’kon’s eyes snapped up to Ro’kan. Harsh whispers passed through the warriors, and their fur went dark. “What are you doing, Ro’kan? I do not seek the gaze of the Nameless Ones. You promised to perform the rites.”

  “And perform them I shall.” Ro’kan took Azi’s Fang in one hand, pointing the blade at T’kon. “I did not say which rites. Today, you shall be offered to the Nameless Ones. Your soul will be consumed, and when it is gone, we will feast upon your flesh.”

  “No!” Jehanna shot to her feet. “This isn’t right, Ro’kan. You gave your word, and now you are twisting it. T’kon was to be accorded honor.”

  “Your feelings for your former mate are understandable. I am sympathetic, my love. I take no joy in what I must do.” Ro’kan looked genuinely conflicted. “Yet, the seekers have spoken. T’kon’s ways are heretical, and he has committed blasphemy. His offenses will draw the gaze of the Nameless Ones, and unless we offer him, that gaze will also fall on the Azi. I do what I must to protect our people.”

  Murmurs passed through the black robes, and streams of purple pulses flowed rapidly between their temples and their arcanotomes. They began rising to their feet, one by one.

  Oako was the last, and stepped from their ranks. “You know what must be done, Ro’kan.” He stared hard at the clan leader.

  T’kon was understandably surprised when a voice spoke directly into his ear. It was Nolan. “T’kon, I’m hoping you’re still receiving. We’ve got a lock on your position. Stand by for extraction.”

  No one else heard it, of course. They were still focused on the tension between black-robes and warriors, the few adepts moving to stand with their warrior brethren. That tension thickened, threatening to suffocate them all.

  T’kon rose to his feet, drawing every eye in the room. He turned to Ro’kan, shaking his head sadly. “This is not the way, little brother. I know you seek to regain our strength, that you do what you must to protect our clan. I know that I have caused you to be in this predicament, and I wish more than anything that I could balance the weight of my actions. I cannot. Yet allying with the seekers is the worst form of madness.”

  “Heretic,” Oako roared, stabbing a finger accusingly in T’kon’s direction. “Silence him, Ro’kan. Give him to the Nameless Ones, before it is too late.”

  As if to punctuate his words, the spire rumbl
ed, and a layer of dust rained from the vaulted ceiling. The stone exploded, huge chunks spraying into the room. The hole was massive, covering a hundred-meter span. Most of that hole stood over the black robes.

  T’kon was already in motion, sprinting away from the falling stone. It plummeted to the ground with earthshaking impacts, smashing limbs or entire bodies. Many of the black robes stared up dumbly, doing nothing to avoid their own fates.

  The warriors were affected, too, but most reacted more quickly. They leapt away from falling stone, or raised armored arms to protect themselves.

  A wash of thrusters whined above, hot grit shooting through the room. Then a familiar cruiser backed through the hole, its cargo doors open. The ship descended quickly, its four turrets raking the crowd with plasma fire. Warriors fell back, beginning their breathing.

  In the time it took them to transform, the ship wasn’t idle. It dropped lower, and Saurians began leaping out. They carried rifles, opening up on the elites. The Ganog fell back, their ranks falling to chaos—chaos T’kon knew wouldn’t last. They’d been surprised, but that surprise would be fleeting.

  “Knock, knock, you furry bastards.” Annie’s drawl boomed from the back of the ship. Her mech came leaping out, vomiting a dozen missiles into the black-robes. Explosions lit the room; screaming Ganog were flung in random directions. Few rose, their blackened forms covered in superheated flame.

  Two more mechs jumped out, each unleashing a volley of missiles. Where they landed, Azi died. Part of T’kon died with them, cringing with every explosion. He did not dare search the conflict to see where Jehanna was. He could not face the possible answer.

  T’kon sprinted toward the cruiser, leaping up the ramp and into safety. Nuchik was crouched inside, smoothly picking off targets with her rifle. Nolan’s mech idled next to her, his particle cannon firing shots into the mass of Ganog outside.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here, people.” Nolan barked over the loudspeakers. Mechs began retreating back inside, still firing as the cruiser lifted into the air. The ramp rolled slowly closed, as the cruiser climbed safely back through the hole it had created.

  T’kon was grateful that he could no longer see the combat. He wished he could tune out the screams of the dying.

  Friend and foe alike, all were family.

  26

  Fragments

  Utfa slept, yet this was no dream. It was too crisp. Too detailed. It had the feel of a dream fragment, sent by an arcanotome. Theoretically, it should be impossible for any other seeker to ensnare him in such a way, or even to intrude on his mind at all. Yet here he was.

  He stood on an unfamiliar world, a rocky planet bathed in the hellish green glow of a nebula. Before him stood a low, stone altar, no higher than his knees. It was covered in sigils, drawn with a dark, purple ink. That ink ran and bled even as he watched, the sigils slowly sliding down as if they’d been applied only moments before.

  He raised his head, flaring all four nostrils. The sigils had the tangy scent of blood. Ganog blood.

  Utfa turned in a slow circle, surveying the area around him. A temple had been carved directly into the rock, the face of a terrible, eldritch god covering the rock face next to him.

  Where that monster’s mouth should have been lay an opening—a terrible, yawning darkness. A low, keening moan emanated from the mouth, either the result of wind or the voice of something terrible that lay within.

  Utfa looked down, and realized he was holding a ceremonial, stone dagger. Had that been there a moment before? He studied the blade. The stone was worn smooth—an ancient weapon used countless times. Such weapons were used to make offerings to the Nameless Ones.

  He looked more closely at the altar, noting the bowl atop it. That had definitely not been there a moment ago. The bowl was cut from the same stone as the altar—and, like the altar, had freshly drawn sigils covering its surface.

  The bowl was about half full of a thick, viscous fluid. He sniffed. More blood. Sharp pain shot through Utfa’s palm, and he snapped the hand up for inspection. A deep gash ran from the top of his index finger all the way down to his wrist. The wound had been made by a sharp weapon—sharp like the obsidian blade of the dagger he held in his other hand.

  “The day of our return grows near,” a deep voice keened, through the opening in the rock face.

  Utfa backpedaled several steps, terrified. He stared at the mouth, praying that nothing would issue forth.

  “You are the vessel of that return. You have sought our gaze for long years, and now, finally, you have found it.”

  Utfa fell bonelessly to his knees, dropping the dagger next to the altar. No seeker could have conjured this, yet there was someone who could. Someone who’d built the arcanotomes.

  The Nameless Ones themselves.

  “More trials remain, and the next is the most important. You must seize the world of Imperalis. You must end the empress, and her line.” The voice came from the terrible mouth, and this time the lips moved. The eyes of the terrible statue began to glow with the same violet that covered his tome back in the waking world.

  “I will see it done.” Utfa finally managed. Yet how would he see it done? He might be able to kill the empress, if he were careful. But unseating the Yog would mean war with the Nyar. His clan was not strong enough.

  “Fear not, servant. The tools await you. When we departed this space, we left powerful guardians. You will find them and wake them. They will help you secure this world.”

  Utfa quaked, unable to gaze upon that terrible face any longer. Yet even in his fear, he hungered for the power offered by the Nameless Ones.

  27

  Watch

  Khar hopped off his transport disk, uncertain what to expect. He’d arrived at a temple on the highest island he’d yet been allowed on—all fluted white columns. Unlike most of the other islands, this one had real buildings. Many of the columns supported a heavy marble roof, though the walls stood open.

  As with every other time he’d been picked up by a transport disk, no reason for the summons was given. Khar had no idea why he’d been called here, so he cautiously approached a gathering of Ganog near the center of the temple.

  The empress stood at the center of that crowd, attendants ringing the dais she stood atop. They formed a small cloud on three sides, while the fourth was left open.

  As Khar watched, an adept hopped from a nearby transport disk and walked briskly toward the empress. He approached up a marbled path, pausing to bow a few feet from the dais. The empress nodded regally, and the pair spoke.

  Khar moved closer, but the conversation ended before he could catch anything. The Ganog bowed, then moved to join the group of attendants around the empress. Khar wasn’t positive how he was supposed to approach, but suspected that was part of the test. The empress wanted to see how he reacted to unfamiliar situations. Putting him off balance might get him to reveal something vital about the Coalition.

  Khar moved slowly up the path, walking with the same dignified pace the adept had used. He paused in the same spot, two meters from the dais. His bow wasn’t as low as the adept’s had been, and he noted the disapproving stares from most of the attendants—particularly the zealots in the black robes, though from what little he’d seen they eyed everything disapprovingly.

  “You summoned me?” Khar asked. He didn’t give the empress a title or honorific; judging from the stiffening frowns, that was a definite slight. He cringed inwardly. He hadn’t meant offense, though in his defense he didn’t owe this woman allegiance.

  “I did,” Zakanna replied, a musical lilt to her voice as if she were on the verge of song. “Tell me, Khar of Pride Leonis, why did your people ally with their sworn enemies?”

  Khar was utterly unprepared for the question. His tail swished languidly as he gathered his thoughts. “I assume you are speaking of the humans, yes?”

  “I am. I have been studying your history, and it seems that not long ago you and these humans were the bitterest of enemies.�
�� The empress walked to the edge of the dais with measured, graceful steps. She stared down at him, and as he had before Khar went rigid, allowing her to inspect him.

  “My people do not like being used. Our government had been infiltrated by a race called the Gorthians, as had humanity’s. When it became clear that we were both being manipulated, we banded together to remove a greater threat.” Khar knew he wasn’t revealing anything she couldn’t have obtained through a standard data core, yet he also knew the danger in cooperation. If he got into the habit of answering her questions, he might reveal something he hadn’t intended. No doubt that was exactly what she was counting on.

  “Oh, that part I understand. What I do not understand is why that alliance continued after you’d disposed of this Gorthian. Why form your Coalition of United Races? Why not simply rebuild your own empire, then conquer humanity when you were ready? Your technology was stronger, your ferocity greater.”

  “Our people were few, our worlds barren. It’s true that we could have rebuilt something like what we’d had before the Void Wraith darkened our skies, yet we did not. The war taught us something vital. Humans are resourceful and tenacious, and I call more than a few of them friend. With their aid, we can be far greater than we ever were standing alone. Besides, the Primo had already agreed to join the Coalition. We needed their technology.”

  “Ah, we’ve hit upon the true motive, I think.” The empress looked Khar directly in the eye. “These Primo, whom my people have yet to encounter, have the greatest technology. In joining this Coalition, your people received access to that technology.”

  Khar was silent, a growing surge of irritation eroding his patience. He was already tired of her questions. “Empress, allow me to be perfectly clear. I will not betray my people. I will tell you nothing of our technology or our tactics.” Khar clamped his jaw shut, glaring at the woman. He hated how much he enjoyed conversing with her, and saw the trap before him. If he became friends with her, his loyalties would be divided. He would not allow that.