by Lee Watts
Jaiden studied the screen, noticing the ships were at increasingly greater distances from each other going off to the left of the Fortune's current position.
"It's like a spiral," he commented as he figured it out. "Look at the way the line curves. That means the ones further apart are also deeper toward the middle."
He looked to the fair-skinned woman to see if his analysis was correct, so did Sosimo. She nodded as she smiled at the younger man.
"Excellent," Sosimo announced. "Jaiden, use the navigation computer to plot a course following that line of debris then extrapolate the spiral's termination point. That should give us a heading."
As Jaiden input the data, Mei added a disturbing piece of information.
"Captain, the way the energy flows in that current, coupled with the wavelengths variance of the magnetic disturbance-"
"Techno-babble, Mei," Sosimo dismissed, cutting her off. "That's your specialty. What does it boil down to?"
"Bottom line is, we can't go back the way we came. Impossible. I guess it's true what the legend says, you can get in The Cloud, but you can't get back out."
"We'll see about that," Sosimo commented.
"Trajectory plotted, Captain," Jaiden reported.
"Good, resume course."
"Captain, I'm curious, once we finally get through The Cloud and find the prism needed to read the map, how are we going to get back out?"
"I… haven't settled on that yet."
Seated beside Jaiden, Byron leaned over and whispered, "That means he doesn't know."
After a few more hours the dust began to thin, and the pinpoints of stars gradually became more visible.
"Sensors coming back on-line," Mei reported.
Emerging from the mist, the Fortune, at last, reentered the black of space. Sosimo smiled.
"Jaiden, full stop. Mei, give me a reading. What are we looking at here?"
"Scanning," she responded as the equipment relayed the information. "Long-range sensors show, whew, five hundred and twenty stars in the region."
"That's a lot more than I expected," Sosimo confessed.
"It's about six times denser than any star clusters outside of The Cloud," Mei commented.
"Won't the Ramillie spot us as soon as we approach one of their planets?" Jaiden asked.
"Don't worry My Young Friend," Sosimo comforted. "I have… a plan. This ship was originally designed for covert operations, so it has a stealth mode. It doesn't hide us from the naked eye, but on sensors, it makes us nearly invisible."
"Why don't we use that more often?"
"Because we're forced to power-down almost everything or it gives away our position? We're virtually defenseless in stealth mode."
"I see," Jaiden answered pensively. "Captain, what's the plan on how we're supposed to find one little prism somewhere among five hundred plus star systems?"
Sosimo looked at him with a grimace.
"…You ask too many questions," he blurted.
Byron leaned over to Jaiden and added, "That means he doesn't know."
"Don't worry," Sosimo said reassuringly. "I'll come up with… something."
Watching the Fortune sitting motionless on his screen, the other ship's brooding captain was puzzled.
"What's LaRouche doing?" he pondered aloud.
"Should we open fire?"
"No," the captain replied. "Let's see what he does. Maybe The Cloud caused some damage to our field. Has he spotted us?"
"Negative, the cloak is working perfectly."
"Excellent."
"You really think he's going to lead us to The Vault?"
"He just might," Crimson said. "But whether he does or not, I'm still going to kill him."
CHAPTER 10
"And in all the land were no women found so fair as the daughters of Job..." - Job 42:15
Cheyenne made a final touch of the brush on Aulani's face, smiled at her handiwork then turned the younger woman toward the large mirror of the vanity table. Aulani, with eyes closed, waited anxiously to see her face with the make-up the dowager queen had applied.
"All finished - go ahead and open them," Cheyenne instructed.
"Oh my," Aulani softly gasped upon seeing her reflection; she hardly recognized herself. Slowly rotating her face to each side to examine the soft hint of blush on her checks and smoky eyeliner, she next leaned closer to the mirror to study the lining Cheyenne had placed around her eyes. It was the first time Aulani had ever worn cosmetics, and she was taken aback by the results.
"I… I can't believe it's me."
Looking at the reflection, Cheyenne smiled proudly.
"Aulani, you are absolutely gorgeous."
She smiled appreciatively but didn't respond.
Cheyenne picked up on Aulani's doubt.
"You don't think so, do you?"
"I've never really thought of myself as… pretty."
"Well, I'm certain many men have thought it," Cheyenne insisted. "Sometimes they just don't like to vocalize such things."
Aulani was quick to respond.
"In the year I've been here I've heard all kinds of men tell Vivica how attractive she looks."
"My Dear, I've been around that girl long enough to know that if a man doesn't tell her she is attractive within the first five minutes, then she makes sure to tell him herself."
They shared a laugh as Cheyenne continued the lesson.
"If you are to be a lady of elegance then you must be confident and comfortable with who you are. Whilst a lady takes care of herself and has pride in her appearance, she is not defined by her looks. Appreciate the femininity of cosmetics, but by all means, don't paint on your beauty. Make-up should be subtle and accentuate your natural features. Whatever you use to attract someone is what you must use to keep them. Looks fade and so will attraction if that is all that is there. A lady is beautiful in her kindness, her gentleness, and charms. These are what make a woman a lady, and this is a beauty you keep your entire life. Now, let's talk about your hair. I notice you always keep it in a single braid down your back."
"Yes, on Acatus I did a lot of running and riding. It was the best way to keep it out of my face. Why? Don't you like it?"
"I'm sure it's very nice, but such a utilitarian style is hardly befitting of a formal event such as the upcoming gala. We'll try a few things and see what works best for you."
"Do you think I should dye it?"
"By all means no. I love its dark, rich color. It matches your eyes and complexion, but it is a little coarse. Let me introduce you to a wonderful substance called… conditioner."
***
On the sun-deprived planet Kohath, among the core worlds of the Ramillie, thousands of spectators gathered in the open-aired arena, eager for the main attraction to commence. The peculiar spin of the planet's axis formed a perpetual twilight in that cool region.
Jerked from a blackened cell, the prisoner squinted due to the brightness emanating from floodlights pouring in from the far end of the arched tunnel. As he stepped into the main arena, the waiting throng erupted in near deafening shouts.
Already severely battered from the hours of torture he daily endured, Merrick's head throbbed with the sounds of the blood-thirsty crowd. Before his eyes could adjust to the artificial brightness, the smell of the place proclaimed its purpose. This was a killing pit, and he was part of the evening's entertainment. Nearly twenty other male prisoners were lined up alongside him, with red-armored Ramillie guards behind the group. As a pile of archaic weapons was dumped in front of the group, the guards slowly withdrew back inside the tunnel entrance. Locking into place with a clank, a heavy metal grate lowered to prevent those in the arena from escaping.
As the group armed themselves, howls came from a tunnel at the far end of the arena. Stampeding out from the tunnel raced a dozen ravenous, half-meter-high charuk dogs.
Heart pounding, Merrick turned toward the charging pack. A human scream to his right, and the sudden cheer from the crowd told him of the
first victim's demise. Keeping focused on the approaching beasts, one zeroed in on him and leaped with incredible agility. Bellowing a warrior's cry, the Guardian raised his weapon as the brute came crashing down and skewered itself on the spear.
Another other of the hideous beasts came charging at him with snapping jaws. Hair bristling, its shoulder blades rolled in waves along the dog's back as it stalked closer. Noticing a whip in the hands of one of the fallen victims, Merrick took it and lashed at the monster, bringing the stinging crack square against the grotesque creatures' broad snout. It yelped, taking a sudden hop backward and shaking its head, slinging blood. Merrick pressed his attack, sending two rapid strikes cutting deeply across the hound's face. The animal withdrew toward the tunnel where its band had entered. The Guardian noticed that, unlike the prisoner's entrance, the dog's tunnel was not gated.
A yelp of pain alerted Merrick to danger behind him. Turning, he saw a charuk fall as one of the other prisoners, a Ramillie, plunged a sword into it. Quickly, another of the revolting animals charged the man. He tugged on his weapon to loose it from the beast he'd slain, but couldn't get it free. The animal running at him leaped with mouth open and jaws hungry to clamp down on the prisoner’s neck. Halting the lunge in mid-flight was a spear thrown by Merrick. The hound fell dead at its intended victim's feet. A mix of boos and applause from the onlookers marked the contest's end. Merrick, Ramillie man he saved, and half a dozen others were the only surviving prisoners.
"Thanks," the snow-skinned man grunted, blood pouring from a grievous bite wound on his left forearm.
Merrick tore a sleeve from his own ripped shirt, wrapping the deep cuts to try and stop the bleeding.
"We're in this together," Merrick bolstered.
"You saved my life, friend. If you hadn't moved in, that thing would have had me. What's your name?"
"They call me Merrick."
"I'm Quisling."
The metallic ratcheting of the lifting gate that had blocked their tunnel caught the pair's attention.
"What now?" Merrick asked.
"That's it for today," Quisling answered. "We leave our weapons here and can go back to the cells. They'll even send some medics to treat some of our wounds. It makes us put on a better show for the next round."
"Next round?" Merrick asked disconcertedly.
"Yes, the first event is always the easiest… something to weed out the weak. There are four rounds in all."
"What happens if you live through all four?" the Guardian asked with piqued interest.
Straining through the pain to speak, Quisling answered, "No one ever survived that long to find out."
"Sounds like the only way to survive is to get out of here," Merrick suggested.
"Can't be done," the Ramillie Quisling retorted. "Escape is impossible."
Merrick smiled as they headed toward the tunnel and quoted a passage from the Codex, "With men this is impossible, but with the Elder all things are possible. When there is no way, He can make a way."
As they reentered the cell area, Merrick drew confidence in knowing his destiny wasn't to die in the arena. The day he took the robe of flesh to go to the worlds of men, he was told his would be a bright and glorious ending. He knew not what that meant, but felt the day was drawing near; it was far closer than he realized.
CHAPTER 11
"The wicked have laid a snare for me..." – Psalm 119:110
Aboard the Ramillie ship Tyrannus, Captain Crex studied a giant star map display screen on the wall. The blue and white symbol of the Realm dotted multiple locations on the chart.
"There is no pattern," came the voice of Warlord Ra'daq from behind Crex.
The captain flinched at the unexpected sound but was able to stifle the reaction somewhat. His attempts to become accustomed to the enigmatic warlord were meeting with limited success.
"I… didn't realize you were there, Warlord."
"I know," Ra'daq smiled. He was pleased in his ability to send shivers up the spine of his subordinates and enemies. "I've studied the attacks of the Remnant gorilla force that's been hitting our outpost and supply lines. Their commander, an Admiral Balin according to my sources, is proving rather clever. Perhaps he'll provide some... temporary distraction as an almost worthy opponent. He's gone to great efforts to remain unpredictable. There's no way to determine what target he might pick on his own."
"But we've been charged with stopping him," Crex iterated. "How can we accomplish that without knowing where he will choose to strike?"
"Simple," Ra'daq replied with a wicked smile, "I've chosen for him."
Crex said nothing, but the narrowing of his eyebrows showed he didn't understand.
"I've given him such a succulent target that he won't be able to refuse my invitation," Ra'daq explained. "Tell the helm to set course for the Jetur system."
"As you command, Warlord, but there's not much in the Jetur system. What makes you think Balin will strike there?"
"Nothing," Ra'daq answered flatly. "Jetur is not the target, but it's only one jump from the Kedemah system, and that's where the Remnant rabble will soon show up. I've planted misinformation in multiple Hegemony databases, and the Remnant strike group has no doubt accessed those files during their raids. When they access the files, they will learn of a highly secret space station in orbit that is developing a new type of hypertravel allowing for near instantaneous transport. They'll not be able to pass up such a vital target. We can't be waiting in the system or corresponding hyperspace because they would detect us and abort the mission. No, we need them to commit their forces and so be unable to make a hasty retreat then… then we eradicate this minor irritation.
***
Ripping the fabric of space, the Dauntless II exited the rift to the other dimension as it entered the Kedemah system.
"Sensor report," Admiral Balin called out.
"There's a station in orbit of the fifth planet. Detecting three heavy cruisers in close proximity to it."
"That shouldn't be a problem," Balin said then keyed the intercom. "Col. Ortiz, what's your status?"
"My Marines are loaded in the assault shuttles and ready for deployment, Admiral."
"Acknowledged, standby. Commander Iglesias, what's the readiness of the starfighters."
As the ship’s newly promoted second officer and wing commander, Miranda was now charged with commanding all four of the super battlecarrier’s fighter squadrons. For this battle she was personally leading one of the squadrons and called back to the ship's commander from the cockpit of her craft.
"Prepped and ready for launch, Admiral."
"Roger that." Balin said. "Commander, remind your pilots that station is not to be destroyed until the insertion teams can secure the files on that new hyper system. We've got to know what the Ramille are developing."
"Confirmed, Admiral. We'll hold back until you give the word."
"Then let's get this operation underway."
Launching its entire compliment of fighters and several assault shuttles, the Dauntless engaged its sublight engines and headed to the station orbiting Kedemah.
"Twenty-twos, this is Fireball. Y'all form up behind me. It'll make us harder to see on their scanners."
"I... didn't quite copy that. Could you repeat?" asked one of the confused pilots.
"Lieutenant Commander Farabaugh means all wings in the twenty-second squadron are to assume single file formation," Commander Iglesias explained. "That will reduce your radar signature and mask our numbers until we're within range of the station."
As the ships moved into position, Miranda switched her comm to speak privately to Dakota. "Fireball, I put you in charge of the Stinger squadron for this mission because you're a great pilot, but if you are going to be part of command structure you have to start following some protocols, and that includes comm traffic. While you're in charge of the squadron, it means you're Stinger One, not Fireball. And don't talk smack to the enemy pilots when we engage either."
"I'll try
, Commander," Dakota grimaced. "But you know it really takes half the fun out of it."
"What's the other half?" she asked warily.
"Get'n to shoot stuff and see it blow up."
Miranda smiled, and though she would never admit it, she liked that part the best too. Keying her radio to speak to the entire wing, she reminded them to concentrate on cover for the assault shuttles and not to blow the station till the Marines had pulled the data. She ended her instructions with a little incentive for the pilots.
"Whoever has the best count today gets a three-day pass."
"You can go ahead and make that out to me," Dakota boasted.
"Stinger One…" Miranda said in warning.
"Oh yea," he corrected. "I mean, uh… I'll requisition that upon completion, Commander. Let's go, Stingers. YEE-HAW! He shouted and pushed his fighter's engines to max burn.
"There's no hope," Miranda mumbled to herself. "Simply no hope for that boy."
***
Crisply, a bridge officer ascended the stairs to the command platform of the Tyrannus. Waiting to be recognized, he stood at attention.
"Report," Captain Crex instructed.
"Sirs, we are picking up a signal from Kedemah. The ships match Realm conf-"
Crex shot the man a quick look to remind him that the Warlord didn't like the rebels referred to by their old nation's name. Picking up on the hint, the officer corrected himself and continued.
"The ships match Remnant configuration. It's likely the same group that's been conducting raids as of late.
"What is the size of the rebel force?" Ra'daq asked.
"Reports indicate ninety-seven fighter craft of various classes, several shuttles and a capitol class ship yet to be identified."
"The Dauntless do doubt," Crex said.
"I'll have the helm set course for Kedemah immediately," the reporting officer said.
"No, you won't," Ra'daq corrected. "You will take no action until I command."
"Yes... yes, Sir," the officer stammered.