Bloodlines

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Bloodlines Page 25

by Richard Fox


  The Ultari captains had managed a fleet of thirty warships, including two fighter carriers, plus over a hundred troop transport ships. They’d sat in high orbit, anchored a few thousand kilometers off the now destroyed SI space station. Compared to the Ultari fortress, the SI’s station had been unimpressive, but compared to anything humanity had ever built, the thing was still enormous. Fragments as big as frigates spun lazily through the void in an ever-expanding cloud of debris.

  Hundreds, perhaps thousands of ships were rising up from the surface, but none of them were jumping away. Jared turned, working the tank’s controls. One of the warships was emitting a localized warp inhibitor. No one was going anywhere. A data panel appeared, giving him the pertinent information to the field and something caught his eye.

  The holo-tank required huge amounts of computing power and sensor information to operate and give Jared effective control over thousands of ground assault troops. But to facilitate that amount of raw data, the tank was tied into the fleet’s local network, giving him access to almost every communication and sensor node the Ultari had available.

  He selected one of the smaller transports, one which had taken damage in the initial assault, and tapped into one of its communication nodes. He segregated it off from the rest of the ship by tricking the local computers to think the node had been damaged during the battle and secured it from the rest of the network.

  I hope this works, Jared thought, activating the node.

  Chapter 28

  The railgun continued to thump as they lifted into the air.

  Carson and West reached the cockpit and had to shield her eyes as something exploded a hundred meters off their bow. Two Netherguard fighters zipped through the dissipating fireball, turning their cannons on their next target, a small shuttle lifting off from a raised landing pad.

  “Get us the hell out of here,” Carson said.

  “You don’t have to tell me twice,” Greer said.

  Carson held onto the back of the chair as the ship sped forward. Several fighters broke formation from a passing wave, opening up with their energy cannons. Valiant’s shields flared blue-white.

  Carson tapped her throat mic. “Jerry!”

  “I see them!”

  West shot her a confused look. “The Hale boys in the turret?”

  One of the Netherguard fighters exploded, its wing shearing off and slamming into its wingman. The second fighter flipped over and plummeted to the ground, smoke and flame pouring from the wound on its side.

  Greer banked the ship around a cluster of tall towers, coming up behind another group of fighters. The turret thumped, and all four fighters exploded in turn.

  “He’s good,” West said.

  “Don’t tell him that,” Carson said. “He’s a big enough pain in my ass already without a getting a big head.”

  The view shifted upward as Greer angled them away from the city, flying hard for space. The glow of the planet faded beneath them and they reached orbit several minutes later. The massive space station came into view, the behemoth venting atmosphere from hundreds of fractures across its surface. Several of the docking rings had broken away from the main structure and were slowly descending toward the planet below.

  Space was littered with dead ships, large haulers that had been torn apart, shuttles twirled through the void, transports exploded and blew apart. Ultari fighters zipped in and out of the wreckage, searching for new targets.

  “They never had a chance,” West said.

  A warning chimed as message panels flashed to life on Greer’s console. “Oh, shit,” she said. “They’ve got capitol ships.”

  Several holographic ships appeared, miniature models of the larger vessels in high Diasore orbit. Lines pointing to offensive hard-points appeared as Valiant’s computer digested the data from her sensors.

  “Get us out of here, Greer,” Carson said.

  “They’re armed to the teeth,” Lincoln said, zooming in on one of them. “I read at least twenty energy turret batteries on that one.”

  “I’m having trouble locking in coordinates for Terra Nova. Something’s fouling the hyperspace calculations,” Greer said. “Whatever is causing the disruption, it’s coming from those capitol ships.”

  “Jamming?” West asked.

  Greer nodded, fingers dancing furiously over her console. “Definitely a disruption field, I’m not finding a way through it.”

  “Plot us a high-speed course away from the Ultari and punch it with everything you’ve got.”

  One of the Zeis appeared behind West, craning around him to see what the humans were looking at. “Those are Ultari ships,” Jena said.

  Carson turned to her. “You sound surprised.”

  “More than one clan. I can tell by the markings,” the Zeis said. “They never work together. They hate each other almost as much as they hate the Regulos. How is this possible?”

  “Hard to say what the Triumvirate wants,” Carson said.

  Jena looked at her, eyes wide. “What did you say?”

  “Uh, Chief,” Greer said, looking over her shoulder. “We’re getting a tight-beam transmission from one of the Ultari ships.”

  Carson and West exchanged a look. “Put it through.”

  The image of Jared Hale’s head and shoulders flickered into existence above the center console. He was wearing some kind of battle armor, though the face shield on his helmet was up.

  “What the hell do you want?” Carson asked.

  “Please,” Jared said. “I don’t have much time. There is a hyperspace disruption field in effect around the planet. I’m sending you the field modulation frequency, which should negate the field’s effect and allow you to escape.”

  A panel appeared on Greer’s console. She opened the message and a second later nodded at Carson.

  “Why are you helping us?” Carson asked.

  “I’ve done a lot of bad things, Chief,” Jared said. “Things I don’t even want to imagine. I just—” He looked away for a moment, then turned back. “I have to go; get out of here. Don’t go directly back to the colony. If the Triumvirate detects your warp signature, they’ll know I helped you…”

  “Warp drives are spinning up,” Greer said.

  “Hurry,” Jared said. “They’ll be coming for the colony soon. I’ll do what I can to stall, but you need to be ready. Tell my brother I love him.”

  The transmission cut off.

  “Several fighters are moving to intercept,” Lincoln said.

  “Go us out of here!”

  Greer threw her hands up. “Where?”

  “Here.” Jena leaned forward, working the controls on Lincoln’s computer with one hand.

  “Hey!” Lincoln shouted, looking to Greer.

  Carson was about to pull the woman back when West held up a hand.

  “It’s okay,” he said.

  A star field appeared on the display, numbers and letters flashing beside it. “Our home world,” Jena explained.

  West gave Carson a sidelong glance and nodded.

  “Try it,” Carson said, curious as to what had happened between the two.

  The railgun fired, each shot reverberating through the hull.

  Jerry’s voice came through the ship’s IR. “I don’t know what you guys are doing down there, but whatever you’re going to do, can you do it fast? We’ve got a shit-ton of incoming out here!”

  Greer punched in the coordinates and the screen flashed green. “We’re good!”

  Carson leaned forward. “Hit it!”

  ****

  Netherguard tossed aside wrecked cars and debris from a pulverized high-rise to clear a landing zone near the Governance Nexus building. The other walls of the structure had been ravage by gunfire and the remains of battle drones and Regulos civilians were piled like cordwood. All around the Nexus, structures had been razed from orbital bombardments, creating a halo of devastation with the Nexus at the center. Prince Zviera’s shuttle came in to land moments later, engines kicki
ng clouds of dust and debris through the ranks of the Netherguard. Jared watched through hundreds of feeds, as the shuttle touched down and the ramp underneath the nose extended to the ground.

  The Prince emerged a second later, ducking under the belly of the craft. Netherguard formed up on his flanks as he moved toward the entrance to the Governance building. That the robot Prince marched past the destroyed droids littering the streets was not lost on Jared.

  Several unarmed servitors had been lined up inside the lobby of the building, all standing in a row. None seemed fazed by the carnage surrounding them. The Prince stopped at the front of the row, inspecting the droids.

  “Abominations,” Zviera said.

  “You are not authorized access to this facility,” the servitor droid said, its voice calm and matter-of-fact. “Depart immediately or additional fines may be levied against your account.”

  The Prince grabbed the droid by its head and ripped it free from its shoulders. Sparks shot out and electricity flashed as the cluster of cables and its segmented spinal column pulled free of the main chassis. The body remained standing, seemingly unaware that it was not missing its head.

  The next droid in the row turned to face Zviera. “Damage to DIN Governance property will result in additional fines, forfeiture of travel warrants, and possible seizure of assets. Please—”

  Zviera ripped its head off and tossed it aside. “Destroy these Abominations.”

  A squad of Netherguard stepped up, lowered their disruption halberds, and reduced the remaining servitors to slag.

  “We shall cleanse the scourge from the galaxy,” the Prince said.

  He moved on, following four bodyguards through a maze of corridors, before coming to a set of doors that had been blown apart, their twisted and charred remains barely hanging on to their hinges.

  He stepped into the massive chamber and stopped to look up at the holo-image of DIN Governance. The image flickered, then solidified once more. The glowing tree in the center of the room spun slowly.

  “You are not in your assigned detention facility,” the Governance holo said as it appeared. “This is a breach of protocol.”

  “Your protocols are coming to an end,” Zviera said, moving to the raised plinth in the center of the chamber and ignoring the hologram. “You still have some contact with your abomination on the Throne World? Tell it the Triumvirate has returned and our empire will be ours again.”

  “Your presence is not authorized at this location, addition—”

  The Prince smashed a fist into the crystal tree, tearing through the glass panels, exposing the interior circuitry. Governance’s image flickered, blinking in and out of existence as it rattled off static-filled warnings.

  “Alert. Leve… three… otocols active… igher comman… ority notified.”

  Zviera ignored the hologram. He pulled back the panels, then began ripping out the electronics inside, throwing chunks of cable and circuity in all directions as he dug further inside the plinth.

  Governance issued one final, broken warning. “Malfunction de—”

  Jared watched as the Prince reached deep inside, tore another cluster of cables free, and the holo flashed from existence. A moment later, the Prince pulled his arm clear of the tree, a glowing needle, about the size of the Prince’s robotic fingers.

  He held the needle up to his optics.

  “Can you hear me, abomination? Did you see what we did to your sycophants? To your traitors? You should have killed us when you had the chance. Now the true Ultari will burn your worlds until the Triumvirate rules again.”

  A panel slid open on Zviera’s chest and he slipped the needle inside. “Now we will be whole.”

  ****

  Emperor Kyrios stood on the bridge of the Starbreaker’s Wrath, Captain Kailani’s ship. He sat in the captain’s chair as if made for the role, a dozen holo screens of the fighting around Diasore played out in front of him.

  He raised a hand next to his head and clicked his metal fingers twice.

  “My lord?” Kailani asked from the tactical control station.

  “The Prince’s mission is successful,” he said. “Pull our ships back from low orbit and end the interdiction field.”

  “By your word,” the clan lord said.

  Kyrios swiped his hand across the screens and they coalesced into a single image of the planet. His spike tipped fingers stabbed at a command screen.

  “My emperor,” Kailani’s face grew dark, “you’ve activated the fleet’s nuclear weapons.”

  “I have,” the emperor said slowly. “This planet serves the abomination. The Ultari in its thrall are beyond redemption. The slave races need to be taught a lesson: the Triumvirate has returned. The true Ultari will rule again.”

  He swept up to his feet with a whine of servos and went to the forward viewport and looked down upon Diasore, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “Full bombardment,” Kyrios said. “Announce to the galaxy what happens to those who stand against the Ultari Empire…against me.”

  Kailani hesitated for a moment, then turned to her station.

  The emperor watched as ships emerged from the planet, fleeing toward hyper space and safety. Crossing paths with fusion tipped missiles launched by the Ultari fleet. Kyrios regretted that he lacked a mouth to smile with.

  Pinpricks of light appeared over the main city. Speckles of destruction that annihilated the city. More clusters of nuclear explosions pummeled the planet’s other cities, eruptions on the world’s night side illuminated cities before their lights went out forever.

  Alien ships—having just witnessed the destruction—went to hyperspace, escaping the Ultari’s wrath. The fear they would spread across the galaxy was worth a thousand ships to the emperor’s efforts.

  The old legends would come back to haunt the once conquered races. Memories of when the Ultari and the Triumvirate ruled them, and they would know that time was upon them again.

  “Return us to the station,” Kyrios said. “My work here is done.”

  Chapter 29

  Valiant’s main cargo bay had been turned into a shelter for their guests and an impromptu medical bay for Moretti. An air of weariness filled the space, as the group recovered and reflected.

  The crew had managed to put together some rations the Zeis could stomach, their diet predominantly vegetarian. There weren’t any greens on board, but a couple of the protein bars could be flattened into a thin pastry and digested. They’d arranged a small dining area near the front of the rover, using crates as tables and chairs, and were busy eating, wooden jewelry clunking together, creating an almost musical sound.

  The Zeis consoled themselves near the back of the bay, holding each other close. West’s report of their bravery and tenacity during their final battle had been humbling to say the least. She wanted to talk with them about the SI and the galaxy at large, to fill in the blanks, but Carson knew that even the bravest soul needed time to decompress.

  The Pathfinders stood near the back of the rover, around two crates they’d pushed together with a mattress on top as a bed for Popov. Several IV bags hung from the rover’s rear hatch, disappearing under the sheet covering the woman. A second bed had been set up at the head of Popov’s, forming a tee. Elias lay on the second bed, an IV running from his arm to one of Moretti’s med-carts.

  Popov was still pale, but she was getting better. Moretti had worked on her for the better part of four hours before he’d been satisfied. She was still unconscious, but her vitals had stabilized and were trending upward.

  Moretti sat on a crate next to Elias, holding his medi-gauntlet over the boy’s chest, red and orange beams of light sweeping over his body. The youngest Hale hadn’t thought twice about the opportunity to help the Pathfinder. He’d practically shoved the IV in his arm himself.

  Carson stepped up behind Moretti, looking down at the boy. “How are you doing?”

  Elias smiled. “I’m okay.” He frowned, glancing at Moretti. “I’m okay, right?


  “You’re fine,” the medic said without looking up.

  “That’s a very brave thing you’re doing,” Carson said.

  “I have to do something. If it wouldn’t have been for me, Popov wouldn’t have been shot,” Elias said. “She wouldn’t have had to stay behind to protect us. It’s my fault she’s hurt.”

  “If you hadn’t been here, she would have been captured as well,” Carson said. “The ship would still be in Abendu’s hands, and everyone here would still be back on Diasore, fighting the Ultari. If you hadn’t been here, our mission would have failed.”

  Elias looked away, cheeks reddening. “I don’t know. I didn’t do much, Jerry did most of it. I didn’t even fire a gun.”

  Birch, standing with his back against the rover’s rear wheel, propped a foot back on the tire’s rim. “Not all warriors carry guns, Elias. And people do some of the most heroic things when they’re not trying to.”

  “I guess…” Elias started. “I guess… I just don’t feel… I mean, I hid most of the time. That doesn’t feel very heroic to me.”

  “What you did saved the lives of everyone on board,” Carson said. “And don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

  “Call it what you want,” Birch said. “But I think you’ve found your iron today.”

  “You can say that again,” West said, stepping up to the group.

  Elias flashed a wide smile.

  “How are your friends doing?” Carson said, nodding to the eight Zeis at the end of the bay.

  “They’ll be all right, I think,” West said. “Jena seems to have everything under control. Jor’s a fighter. Reeka, she’s a little shook up, but nothing a few nights’ rest won’t cure. I tell you, Chief, they might not look it, but they’re tough as nails.”

  “I hope that trait extends to the rest of their race,” Carson said.

  “When it was time to act, Jena didn’t hesitate once, not even in the thick of everything. I’ve seen some Strike Marines that you couldn’t say the same for.”

 

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