Star Angel: Awakening (Star Angel Book 1)

by David G. McDaniel

  Ready to cement the cleric’s allegiance.

  “You must assume her role,” he said, and Navid brightened, as expected. Too late he realized his enthusiasm had shown, and forcibly made his expression somber, acknowledging the awful truth of what must be.

  “You must become head of the Council.”

  Ashikagi looked past Navid, to the clerics. Beyond them, to the priest warriors who waited, emotions unreadable behind their masks but unmoving.

  “You all knew she overstepped her Holy precedent,” he told them, ratcheting up the pressure. Now that he was out of the woods he made to impart further guilt, to strengthen his position. “She had no right. You knew it long before this day.”

  He gave that time to sink in.

  “I could see, however, that her control had become so thorough that a vote would never be made. No challenge would ever come before her, and so I realized I must be the one to act. I alone had the power, and the will, to do this deed.

  “Now, Navid will lead us into a new era.”

  Navid turned to his fellow clerics. His ascension was rightful, even if the seat had been vacated in an unorthodox manner. They accepted him. Ashikagi had been watching, gauging their interactions; knew when this moment came Navid would be acknowledged. He struggled to suppress the grin working its way to his face.

  I did it!

  The outcome was as perfect as his wildest hopes. Navid would respond well to direction. Would make an effective puppet. With Oinana out of the way, the Council was virtually his to command.

  Which meant the Dominion, at last, belonged to the Shogunate.

  And the irony, momentary though it was, was not lost on him. Oinana had the same goal: to control the Council and bend it to her will. But she was weak. Insane. Ashikagi was Shogun, a warrior. His will would lead them to victory.

  “Where is she?”

  It was Horus. The voice interrupted his glory. Brought him back to the danger lurking behind. His Kazerai must be handled.

  He turned. The threat of the released Kazerai had been enough to hold everyone in check, to inject a wild variable into the already shocking moment of the witch’s murder, thus giving him time to bring order to the chaos. Now he needed to get Horuses’ mind back on the Dominion and his proper place within its hierarchy.

  “Who?” he asked, genuinely perplexed. Kitana and the witch were dead. Who was he asking for?

  “The girl. The witch said she was taken to the dungeon. I want her freed.”

  Of course. The girl. And for an instant Ashikagi was flummoxed, not having expected this line of questioning. Not so soon. How to respond? But a lie came to him; one that fit nicely within the witch’s established treachery.

  “The witch lied,” he said. “We never captured her.”

  And Horus looked hopeful for the first time.

  “Where is she?”

  Ashikagi debated his response. At length he decided this was a good time to take Horus aside.

  He turned to Navid, speaking intimately. “Gather everyone. Have Oinana’s body taken away and begin the procedure for your rightful ascension.

  “We must document her heresy in the Annals.”

  Navid nodded that he would. Ashikagi took one more look around the room. Everything was moving in the right direction. In these early moments the coup was falling into place. He exhaled, high with relief.

  Now to see to the matter of Horus.

  “Come,” he said and led him away.

  It was a long, nerve-wracking walk to his chambers. There he shut the door and took a seat in the chair behind the large desk. Horus stood on the other side, facing him. Ashikagi gave it a moment, letting the formality of their respective positions impinge. He could already tell it would be a challenge to undo the effects of Kitana, the serum and whatever else had happened during Horuses’ time on “the other side”. Following old routines, however, must surely help.

  “I received a report,” he began. “The girl was found dead. In the woods.” It seemed easiest to brush this aside and move on. He braced himself for whatever reaction was coming, but Horus only wavered, gaze dropping. The news rocked him, in ways Ashikagi could only imagine, but no outburst came. It was clear Horus had never been challenged by emotions such as those challenging him now. But then, so many things had happened in the last few days. He had been drugged, by his own wife, escaped attack, ended up on some other world, met a new girl, returned, been captured, forced to watch his wife commit suicide, now told the girl—whom he clearly also cared about—was dead.

  Events for him were proving overwhelming.

  Ashikagi studied the great warrior. Horus, of all the Kazerai now or before, had always been the least intense, his heart often not in it and, after ascending, the hardest to work with. In ways he’d struck Ashikagi as … romantic. Horus laughed too much, it seemed. He was also, unquestionably, the most powerful Kazerai they’d ever made. Likely he could defeat two or even three of the others. This odd combination of passion and strength had always frustrated Ashikagi and now he watched him carefully. This was the first real test of his hold over the newly freed Kazerai and he found himself, to his surprise, emulating Oinana. Mastering the one trait about her he ever admired: A pretended compassion, masking obvious authority.

  “I only wish we’d been able to find her in time.” He laid it on. “I dispatched search parties.

  “Her death is yet another tragedy.”

  Horus was lost. Utterly.

  Ashikagi made a mental note to handle the men connected with the incident involving the girl so Horus never learned she escaped. Of course, when she was found, if she was still alive, he could always come up with another lie; blame the reports of those involved.

  Ah, subterfuge.

  “I understand everything you’ve been through,” he consoled. “I regret my role in it. I regret the witch was given as much time as she had.” He pretended remorse.

  Horus lifted his gaze. “I want to see her body.”

  Another unexpected demand.

  “We’re at war,” Ashikagi thought more quickly this time. “I can’t arrange that. Not now. I need you. Here.”

  “She has a life,” Horus insisted, “on another world. A family. Friends. Give me her body, allow me to take her home. The Icon is here. Give it to me and I will return her, then return the Icon to Osaka. You have my word.

  “I ask only that.”

  For a moment Ashikagi was speechless.

  “Only that? She’s …” he spluttered, just a little, but it showed his consternation. “Use the Icon? Impossible.” At that he turned on a bit of righteous outrage, deciding to enforce more of his seniority. “Already you’ve desecrated it. The Icon is a Holy Relic. Horus! You cannot blaspheme it again.

  “There’s no way—”

  “Then let me bury her here.”

  Ashikagi worked hard to get the conversation back on track.

  “Her body is in Osaka,” he finally managed. “Far from here. That’s impossible. Not now.” Immediately he regretted his words. The original lie was slowly boxing him in.

  This was not going well.

  Horus was about to say more when Ashikagi remembered the electronic device. Weighing the consequences of divulging it, he decided with some hesitation it would be more useful in placating his Kazerai—who was beginning to show signs of belligerence.

  Now was not the time to lose control.

  “She had this with her,” he opened the desk drawer and took it out. “It was sent to me.” He laid it on the desk, wires and all. On seeing it Horuses’ expression shifted. The marvel that came over him …

  Without asking he stepped closer and picked it up. Looked the little device over, almost reverently, like one would an heirloom or some other such meaningful item. Ashikagi watched him. It was clear the Kazerai remembered the device.

  “They apparently speak our language on her world,” Ashikagi noted. “Did she speak our language?”

  Horus nodded slowly, thoughts cl
early caught up in an avalanche of memories.

  Ashikagi sought again to exert dominance.

  “Our land is at war, my friend. Our capital city is under siege. We need you. Your people need you. I need you.

  “You’ll have your chance to see her. Just not now. Too much is at stake. Too much has already been lost.” He knew the multiple meanings behind the last statement would hit home. As Horus turned the small device in his hand, tangible evidence of the girl, he looked defeated all over again.

  Everything he’d ever cared for was gone.

  “Give me time alone with my wife,” he said. “And allow her a proper burial.”

  Ashikagi hesitated, but only an instant.

  Best to let his Kazerai have this small demand.

  “Of course.”

  CHAPTER 31: JESS BECOMES A SKULL BOY

  Jess woke to the light of the setting sun. Depression washed over her—a far-too-common feeling of late—mitigated by the effects of the combat stims running through her system. She sat up. She was in the bay of the ornithopter, Darvon lying next to her. Snoring. Willet was already awake and making himself busy.

  “Evening,” he greeted. “How do you feel?”

  She thought about it a moment, one foot still in the dream world from which she’d just emerged. An overwhelming sadness gripped her; at the fact she was stuck in the middle of fighting for her life, so far still to go, no matter how far she’d come … still so far to go, such a long way from home, so many impossible obstacles between her and getting her life back. She worked to push past the gloom. To focus.

  Took a deep breath. “Ready,” she answered.

  Willet nodded and went back to what he was doing. Working on a black cloth suit of some kind.

  She watched him a few moments, still waking up.

  “What are those?”

  He wrestled a little with the adjustment on one of the coveralls. “Operator suits. I’ve got to make them fit someone who’s too fat,” he gave a nod in Darvon’s direction, “and someone who’s too small,” and he looked at her. Jess studied the coveralls more closely. They were ribbed, what looked to be plugs or jacks sticking out at various points. Each had adjustments, which Willet was now seeing to.

  “We haven’t really talked much about it,” she said, “but how hard are they to use? The armor.”

  “Easy,” he said. “Mostly. Depends on the operator,” and he glanced pointedly at Darvon, snoring in a lump.

  Now she let her gaze drift to the suits of powered armor looming at the rear of the ‘thopter bay.

  Deciding she’d take the Betty Boop one when the time came.

  At once curious and afraid.

  * *

  Horus (Zac, Jess had called him, and he struggled with that name) stood before Ashikagi, still in nothing but the black shorts he’d been wearing when captured. The shorts from the suitcase in the back of the car, when he was making his escape from Osaka. As he stood there listening to his Shogun he ached. Not physically, but in his soul he ached. Slowly he was starting to come to grips with the tragedies that had befallen him.

  Realizing how much he’d lost.

  “Our forces in Osaka are prevailing,” Ashikagi informed him, doling out information and keeping him there. Horus wanted only to bury his wife; to have some time to reflect. He pulled his attention from Jessica’s pretty little music device and its wired earphones, which he held gently in his grip. Such colors! “The battle grows protracted,” Ashikagi was saying. “I need my legion commander.” It dawned on Horus he was the legion commander. The Shogun, the witch—even Kang had said so, but it never really settled until now. Now, with much of his memory restored, he knew it was true.

  He was Kazerai. Supreme Kazerai of the Dominion.

  “So far I’ve refused to commit resources from other areas,” Ashikagi admitted. Then, almost proudly: “I will not give any sign that their challenge is more than a nuisance.” He meant the Venatres, of course. He leaned to the side in his chair, confiding in his top soldier. “Your strength, your leadership, will inspire the troops. And for that I have a plan.”

  Horus did not like the cruel expression that settled on the Shogun’s face.

  “An attack on their command and control,” he divulged. “We are presently, here at the Crucible, far behind the battle lines. You will travel by air, infiltrate their flank and wreak havoc. Kill everyone in their field headquarters you can. That will completely disrupt their senior command and leave the rest floundering on the front. Following that their attack will wither and our forces will clean up the rest.”

  Horus was still unconvinced as to who the enemy was. The witch was the enemy, of that he had no doubt, but she was dead. How did Ashikagi fit in? Horus remembered the Shogun vividly now, from before the incident with the Icon, but nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Maybe it did once. Not now. Horus himself was once a leader in this army. But was this the right army to be leading?

  He wished he had Kitana to talk to.

  Or Jessica.

  Jessica. Her image filled his mind. As little time as they’d spent together she dominated it.

  Ashikagi went on: “I’ve sent for Kang.” And it seemed as if the Shogun were plotting the best way to smooth this point. “I regret he had to fight you, but there was no other way to bring you in. You’d completely lost your mind. To you this was a strange world with enemies everywhere. Until the serum wore off, we had to contain you.

  “Kang is your ally.”

  Horus wrestled with the conflicting thoughts demanding his attention. Should he run again? The Shogun seemed to have his best interests in mind. By his best recollection Ashikagi had looked out for him before. In the end, though, did it matter which side he was on? Was one side truly “bad”? More so than the other? Wasn’t that just a point of view? The main thing was that he had a side.

  He brought his focus to the present.

  Kitana was dead. He’d seen her die with his own eyes. Held her lifeless body in his arms. Jessica was dead. For that he had only the assertions of the Shogun on which to rely, but he had to believe it, otherwise he might go mad with doubt.

  He turned the music device over in his grip.

  “Kang will arrive in the next hour,” said Ashikagi. “In the meantime you may bury your wife.”

  * *

  Jess took another bite of the field rations, doing her best to savor the flavor. They weren’t bad. Darvon was the first to finish and Willet refused to give him more, telling him the amount was perfect for what lay ahead. Darvon didn’t seem too happy with that. Of course, Jess imagined, Darvon didn’t look like he ever liked to hear the words—where food was concerned—“no more for you.” She thought of the classic Seinfeld line, “No soup for you!” Then the one from the other comedian, about the fat guy in the Chinese buffet. The faux Chinese accent: “You here four hour! You reave now!”

  She smiled to herself as she chewed, watching Darvon pout. He would definitely do some damage at a Chinese buffet.

  They were in their ribbed operator suits, fueling up on nutritious calories. The suits plugged them into the massive Skull Boy armor, and were their connections to the units—and vice-versa. She flexed a bit, feeling the soft joints against her skin. The inside felt a little like cashmere and, despite it’s loose bulk, it was one of the more comfortable things she’d ever worn. Like a heavy pair of footie pajamas.

  “It’ll be dark soon,” Willet spoke between bites. “Finish up and we’ll get you guys used to them. This’ll be the shortest training session on record, leading to what will probably be the shortest mission ever. We either fail or we succeed, and it won’t take long for either.” It was clear he still hadn’t come to grips with what he’d agreed to. This whole thing was crazy.

  The sun had dropped below the horizon but its fading light still lit the cloudless sky. The large world-moon would rise later, according to Willet, but that would be hours from now, long after they’d made their infiltration and either met their objective or b
een killed.

  When they made their move it would be dark across the land.

  “Any more questions?”

  Jess looked to Darvon. At that point she felt like they had about as much information as they could use on the suits. All that was left was to try them out. See how it all fit together in actual, live action. Apparently they mimicked the movements of the wearer so, in a way, there wasn’t much to learn.

  Darvon looked lost.

  “We’ll go in guns blazing,” Willet finished his rations and threw the container away. “I’ll lead us to the perimeter. There I’ll assess the defenses and call it. We’ll sprint to the wall and use the jump-jets to make it to the top.

  “That’s where the fun begins.”

  Jess finished her own rations and tossed the container. The jump-jets were pulse units at the rear of the powered armor that boosted jumping action when called upon, adding range to their leaping ability. She was eager to try one of the Skull Boys, fascinated by so many aspects of their function—not least of which were the voice command circuits required to make it all work. Apparently there were specific commands to engage specific actions, like the jump-jets, and the onboard computer was smart enough to pick those commands out of ordinary speech. According to Willet’s description the effects were entirely natural. Like talking to a real person who then followed your commands.

  “This may be the strangest field unit I’ve ever commanded,” he said. He looked them both over. Jess had to agree. The idea that they were going into combat still hadn’t sunk in. Darvon seemed to have more of a grip on it than she did. He was looking more and more pale by the minute.

  “We can do this,” she spoke directly to him, trying to sound reassuring. Too late to send him home now. She only wished he’d listened to her pleas before. He smiled thinly, probably thinking the same thing. Yet, still he followed her blindly, convinced that whatever she did was driven by some greater purpose.