by Chris Fox
“Do you really want to do this now?” Aran whispered.
“We may not get another chance. They could execute us. So, yeah, now’s the time. I want you to know I’m sorry for whatever I did to you. I’ve pieced together, from the nightmares, that I was a slaver. I don’t really understand the details.” Nara’s head was held high, but she refused to look at Aran. Her eyes shone, but she keep her voice even. “I don’t know who I was before, but I think I was a bad person. A really bad person. I don’t want to be. Since I woke up, I’ve tried to help everyone. And I’ll keep doing that.”
Aran glanced sideways at her. He was silent for a long moment. “Nara, you risked everything back on that station. You saved my ass, and everyone else’s. And you’re still here fighting. I don’t think you’re the same person you were, and I’m sorry I’ve treated you like you are. I don’t care who she was. I care who we are. You’ve got my back. I’ve got yours.”
Nara shot him a quick grin, then looked straight ahead.
Crewes took them through the crew mess, where two dozen long tables were packed with Marines. Much to Aran’s shock, the closest table started clapping. That clapping rippled through the room, and someone yelled from the back. “Tech mages!”
“Tech mages!” the room chorused, and the cheering intensified.
Aran was dumbfounded. “What did we do?”
Crewes—for the first time in his life, so far as Aran could tell—was smiling. “You two wipes kept them from having to suicide against the Krox lines.”
The temporary high faded the moment they reached the end of the crew mess and stepped into the officer’s mess. Two adjoining tables were occupied, and the tension was only covered by thin veneer of forced politeness.
Kazon and Jolene sat on one side of the tables, Voria on the other. Thalas stood next to her, his expression murderous. Several Inurans stood behind Jolene, all of them doing a magnificent job of avoiding eye contact.
“Ah, Sergeant. Thank you for coming. You saved me the trouble of having to send for you.” The major gestured at the three of them. “Thalas claims that all three of you disobeyed a direct order during a time of war. He’s citing Confederate military law, which is quite clear on that point.”
“The penalty is death,” Thalas said. The words were drawn out. Smug. “To be meted out immediately, by the commanding officer. Shall I tend to them, Major, or you?”
“Captain Thalas, are you aware you are in the presence of an Inuran matron? And you want to conduct military justice right this instant?” The major maintained the quiet dignity Aran was coming to expect from her, but a dangerous earnestness underlay it now.
“I’m afraid I must insist, Major.” The words were even more smug. A smile played at the corners of Thalas’s pretty mouth.
“Thalas, please. I understand why you are upset, and promise you we can deal with it. They will be punished.” The major’s expression softened to…was that pity? “If you make an issue of this, you will be killing fully half of our tech mages on the eve of a major battle with the Krox—a battle we are already unlikely to win. Are you really willing to deny the battalion their strength? Knowing it will be the deaths of many, or possibly all, your brothers?”
Thalas met Aran’s gaze, and the fury Aran saw there almost made him take a step back. The depth of hatred was immense. The captain wasn’t looking at either Crewes or Nara. He was focused solely on Aran.
“What if I take responsibility?” Aran asked. “I’ll accept the punishment. It’s fitting, since I was the first one to question the captain’s orders. Execute me, but let Nara and Crewes return to the squad.”
“I’d find that an acceptable compromise,” Thalas said, quiet as the void.
“If you touch him, I will split your skull like a melon,” Kazon roared, leaping to his feet. He stabbed a finger at Thalas. “Control your dog, sister. I told you: no Aran, no weapons. If you execute him, then you fight the Krox without our help.”
Aran’s mouth worked as the magnitude of the dilemma sank in. He watched the Major, trying to guess how she might react.
38
A High Cost
Voria took a long, slow breath. She surveyed the room, but reserved most of her focus for Thalas. These next moments would be critical, and while she feared what she was about to do, she also understood it was the only choice that would allow the world below to survive.
“Captain Sandoval Thalas, are you insisting I put these tech mages to death, knowing full well it will compromise our ability to wage war?” she asked. “Think carefully about your answer.”
“I’m not insisting all three die, just Aran.” Thalas’s gaze was still locked on Aran.
The totality of his rage sickened Voria. It blinded him to the enormous damage he was inflicting on the military he claimed to love.
“You’ve heard the Inurans. If we kill Aran, they will deny us the weapons and material we need to wage war. I ask you one final time: are you insisting I put a mage to death, knowing that doing so will compromise our ability to wage war?” Voria’s hand slid slowly to her sidearm.
Thalas finally broke his gaze away from Aran, turning to Voria. He licked his lips. “Yes, Major. I am insisting.”
“Captain Thalas, as the commanding officer of the Wyrm Hunter, I find you guilty of treason during a time of war. Sentence to be carried out immediately.”
She drew her spellpistol and executed Thalas.
The void bolt hit him cleanly in the heart, making death instantaneous. His body slumped to the ground, blood pooling around his corpse. Aran, Crewes, and Nara all wore shocked expressions. The Inuran attendants were even more horrified, and two ran screaming from the room.
“I’m proud of you, Voria.” Jolene rose to her feet, giving an inappropriately cheerful smile. “It’s unlike you to be so…pragmatic.”
Voria ignored her mother, turning to Aran. “There’s still something we need to deal with. Aran, you heard Kazon. He’s insisting we discharge you. You’ll be free to go wherever you wish.”
Kazon clamped his hand into a fist over his heart. “I’ll see you’re well taken care of, brother. I will never be able to repay my debt to you.”
“Before you choose, Aran, hear me out.” Voria’s tone was pleading, and she hated it. But Aran was too canny for any sort of subterfuge or manipulation. That left begging. “I’ve just executed Captain Thalas, weakening your company. Tomorrow we’re all—Nara, Crewes, Bord, Kezia—going into battle to keep the Krox from wiping out this world. Davidson and his Marines will be there too, spending all the lives you saved on that station to push back the Krox. We’ll probably fail. But you know what? Our chances are a whole lot higher if you’re with us.”
She trailed off, knowing any more wouldn’t help her case. Aran was analytical, like she was. He’d weigh the decision, then make it. She’d have to live with that choice, whatever it might be.
“Sir, if I can chime in?” Crewes asked. Voria nodded, more than a little surprised by his initiative. Crewes licked his lips, directing an appraising eye at Aran. “This wipe did something today, that almost made me respect him. When Thalas tried to order our Marines into a suicidal situation, Aran stepped up and stopped it. He did it while I stood by. The kid saw what needed to be done, and did something about it. Then, he and Nara drove that Void Wyrm from the station.”
“Where are you going with this, Sergeant?” Voria asked, aware that her mother was impatiently tapping her foot.
“Aran’s an excellent choice to command the company. He’s rough around the edges, but he’s actually willing to give orders that don’t get people killed. That’s a huge plus. Give me some time to break him in, and he’ll be the finest officer in the battalion—excepting you, of course, Major.”
Voria raised an eyebrow, and Crewes gave her a helpless smile. “You want me to promote him…from private to lieutenant? Just like that?” Privately, she remembered the augury. Aran was going to be instrumental in the final battle with Nebiat, somehow.
Perhaps him being in command was a part of that.
“He ain’t the best commander to ever live,” Crewes said. “But how many options do we have? I’m good in my role, but I’m not fit to run this company. Put him in charge, and I’ll get him up to speed.”
“All right. If you’ll stay, Aran, I’ll promote you to lieutenant,” Voria offered. She didn’t believe the rank would tempt him, but the idea that his friends were going into combat without a leader might.
Emotions warred across Aran’s features. He looked from Voria, then back to her brother. “You say you owe me?”
“Always.” Kazon nodded.
“You and I were both screwed by the same people,” Aran said. “Both mind-wiped and manipulated. But this is bigger than either of us. There are millions of people down there, and I’ve seen what the Krox will do to them. Those people can’t protect themselves. But I can protect them. Or try, at least.”
“I understand. As long as this is your choice, not theirs.” Kazon rose, and walked around the table to embrace Aran in a fierce hug. After a moment Aran returned it.
Voria was genuinely touched. Her brother wasn’t one to show such emotion in public—or hadn’t been before the wipe.
Kazon finally released Aran. “Mother, I’m afraid I have to make yet another stipulation.”
“Really? Another one? I’m shocked.” Jolene rolled her eyes. “For the love of money, what is it now?”
“I want our best suit of spellarmor. I want our most expensive potions. Anything we can give Aran to help him fight the Krox.” Kazon rounded on his mother. “Just that, and I swear you have my agreement to these terms. I’ll return with you, and do whatever you ask.”
Jolene paled. “Do you have any idea how expensive our finest suit of armor is?” She sighed. “You won’t care. Very well, I will prepare a suit of Mark XI armor personally, and I give my word it will contain the finest we have to offer.”
“Then everyone is in agreement?” Voria said. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath.
Everyone looked around, nodding.
They’d done it. The battalion finally had the weapons it needed to fight.
Voria stared down at Captain Thalas’s still-cooling corpse. The cost had been high—a good deal of it deferred until after the battle. Even if they won, she’d pay dearly for her actions today.
39
Tell Me
Trotting up the servant’s stairwell, Nebiat released her invisibility spell. She moved briskly along the hallway, slipping quietly inside the office at the end.
The governor was already there, hands clasped behind his back, staring out the bay window at the swamp below.
“Tell me,” she snapped. She’d felt her brother’s death, but not the making of it. She’d been too focused on the preparations for the ritual, and now Kheftut was dead.
“The station is lost,” Avitus explained, with a touch of smugness. “Voria’s tech mages lured your brethren into a trap, and they were ambushed by the Ternus fleet. During the confusion, she slipped a company of tech mages onto the station. They battled your binder and drove her off the station. The Confederates now own the skies.”
“That pleases you, doesn’t it?” Nebiat asked, crossing to join the governor at the window. She rested a hand lightly on his forearm. “I know it’s difficult betraying everything you believe in. I just don’t care.”
She stepped to the window, gazing down at the town. An idea occurred to her, a further obstacle she could toss in Voria’s path to slow her. That was all she needed really: a simple delay. The ritual was very nearly ready.
“I want you to have a celebration, Governor.” She turned to face him, reveling in the sudden horror that bloomed in his eyes. “Tell your people the Confederates are coming to save them. They’ve won in space, and now they’re going to crush the Krox on the ground. Build up the Marines. Tell your people how invincible they are, and that they’ll easily push the Krox back. Really emphasize that point. Can you do that for me, Governor?”
He gritted his teeth, but he nodded in spite of himself.
She put her hand back on his arm. “I also need you to get Voria down to the surface immediately. Have her mobilize and land next to the starport. I want a pathway lined with civilians, leading all the way to that park right there. You’re going to give a speech, Avitus. A wonderful, rousing speech about how amazing and powerful the Confederates are. You’ll enjoy that, I’m sure. I’m told you’re a wonderful speechwriter.”
“You’re going to ambush them.”
“Of course I am.” Nebiat patted his cheek. “And I’m going to slaughter a great number of your citizens. If all goes well, we’ll wipe out the Marines, too. That would be wonderful news for you, Governor, because it will mean I don’t need you anymore.”
“So you’ll kill me then?” Avitus asked.
The words were clipped, but she still read the hope there.
“Oh no, that would be such a waste. But I will allow you to travel with me. Over time, you’ll learn to love service to others. I can promise you that.” She shot him a wink, and he leered back at her, in spite of himself. “You see? You’re already losing control of your body. In time, the same will be true of your mind.”
She turned from him, sketching another invisibility spell as she moved to the door. She needed to return to the ritual. Now that she’d arranged her little present for the Confederates, it was time to begin.
40
Mark XI
“It’s here,” Nara said, leaning excitedly into the barracks. “Come on, they’re unloading it.”
Aran rolled to his feet, more eager than he’d expected. He hurried from the barracks into the hangar. A crowd of Marines had already gathered, though they kept a healthy distance from the Inuran techs delivering the weapons the Consortium had promised.
A line of sleek black hovertanks floated down a ramp, off their shuttle, filling almost a quarter of the hangar. There were no rivets, or any obvious clue as to how those hovertanks had been created—the hallmark of Inuran technology, apparently.
“Incredible, aren’t they?” Nara asked, laughing. “I’m glad they’re on our side. Your armor is this way.”
Nara led him to a tech unloading a tall black crate from a pallet. He nodded at them, then waved at the pallet. It floated after him as he trotted back over to the Inuran transport.
“Let’s take a look,” Aran breathed, moving around the crate. There was a large red button on the front. “Seems pretty self-explanatory.”
He pushed the button, and the crate hummed and whirred, pulling back and away to expose a suit of midnight-hued spellarmor, the same color as the tanks. It wasn’t dissimilar to the suits they’d already piloted, but this one was a little bulkier in the chest.
“Oh. My. Gads!” Kez yelled, sprinting up to the armor. She caressed a leg lovingly. “Do you have any idea what this is? This isn’t joost a suit of spellarmor. This is the Proteus Mark XI. The military don’t even have these. I don’t know who you know among the Inurans, but someone has a lot of pull. You are such a bastard. I can’t believe they gave you this.”
“It looks…intimidating. Why is it so special?” Aran slowly circled the suit. The limbs were a little thicker, too, presumably because the armor was heavier.
Kez ran a hand lovingly across the chest. “For starters, it allows you to cast third-level spells, even if the tech mage isn’t normally capable of doing so. They drain you quick, but they can also turn the tide in a lot of fights.”
“It has five potion loaders, like Sarge’s,” Aran said, squatting down behind the back. “They’re all full.”
Kez hurried around to take a look, eyes widening. “Oh, I don’t believe this. You are such a lucky fooker. Who did you sleep with?”
“What’s this?” Nara asked, tapping the one on the far right. It contained a soft white fluid with motes of gold floating within it. The motes swam toward Nara’s finger, gathering in a curious circle.
�
�Oh not much.” Kez shook her head, giving a lopsided grin. “It’s only a potion of Shaya’s Grace.”
“A what?” Aran asked. Two of the others appeared to be healing potions, but he didn’t recognize the glimmering blue ones.
“Shaya was a goddess,” Kez explained. “Her death created the world my people are from. Before her death, it was a lifeless moon, but her magic transformed it into a paradise. Potions o’ Shaya’s Grace are drawn from her blood. You are, quite literally, drinking the blood of a goddess.”
“And what does that do, exactly?” Aran asked, rising from the armor. “When should I use it?”
“You should use it,” Crewes bellowed from behind, “when it will save our collective asses. That potion will make you faster. Stronger. Quite literally smarter. You will be, for a very short time, a god. Sir.”
“Sir?” Kez blinked.
“Blame him,” Aran said, pointing at the sergeant. “He and the Major cooked this up, not me. I literally cannot remember last Thursday, but they think I should be in charge.”
Bord threw up his hands. “You cannot be serious. You are serious. Damn it. You already have too many advantages. How’s a short guy supposed to compete?” He stalked away, heading over to his own spellarmor.
Crewes followed, leaning down into Bord’s face. “You already have too many advantages, sir. You are addressing a superior officer, Specialist. How do you address a superior officer?”
“By—”
“By addressing them as sir.” Crewes roared. “Now get your ass geared up. We’re heading down to the planet.” He nodded at the airlock membrane, which showed the world rising toward them.
A mass of swirling clouds covered the entire southern continent. Lightning flashed occasionally. The Hunter made straight for the storm, beginning to shake as they brushed the upper atmosphere.