Unsanctioned Reprisal
Page 27
A transport carrying Foster and Williams shot out and away from the Johannes Kepler’s cargo bay, sinking below the clouds and toward the pin-shaped objects poking up from the surface. Once they neared, the pin-shaped objects became immaculate towers resting in the center of a vast city.
Ten minutes into their flight to the surface, Foster asked, “Dom, what’s the real reason why you wanted to come down with me?”
“Designated pilot, mostly.”
“I ain’t planning on drinking.”
Williams adjusted their course, bringing the transport to level off and fly below the cloud coverage. White fluffy flakes of precipitation began to fall from the darkening skies and blanket the craft and its windshields. “This is Paryo, Becca.”
“Yeah I know.”
“Remember when we were younger? And we spent those sad nights in LA cursing this planet and the people that lived on it?”
Lights dotted the five spires that made up a part of the Imperial Palace, now more visible as they neared while the snowfall intensified. She had almost forgotten what it was like to watch snowfall. “Yep . . . and now here we are.”
“These people killed your father, killed mine, and my mother,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay with this and won’t lose it.”
“I should be sayin’ that to you,” she said, keeping her eyes forward and controlling the growing sense of worry in her chest. “You still haven’t gotten over the dreams, Dom.”
“That’s the second reason I’m here. Maybe being here on their homeworld will teach my head there’s nothing to fear anymore. Or explain why I was able to see Omega Centauri in my dreams . . .”
“You know, on second thoughts, I’m glad you came” she said, changing the subject. “Everyone on our ship, including us, has some kinda of grudge against the Hashmedai. We’s the ranking personnel about to step foot on their homeworld with the intent of talking rather than fightin’. Let’s set a good example to our team.”
The central spire took up two thirds of the view from the windshield. Williams slowed to approach the opened docking bay doors. “Right, no fights, no grudges . . . and no flashbacks. Seems doable.”
“And if you clear ya head enough to figure out why Omega Centauri was in there, let me know,” she added. “’Cause that ain’t no coincidence.”
The transport entered the docking bay, and slowly lowered as its blue landing thrusters guided it down. The docking bay was sparsely lit, only the evening light from outside allowed Foster to see the other transport ships lying idle from their windshields.
Williams walked with her to the entrance, its doors lifted open when she tapped the door command terminal. The two were greeted by multiple pairs of red and orange glowing eyes. One of those pairs of eyes stepped forward, a tall woman with long purple hair, heavily armored like a knight. She even had a sword and shield at her sides.
“Howdy, I’m Rebecca Foster, Captain of the Johannes Kepler.” Foster offered her hand to shake. The woman ahead of her offered nothing else. “Uh, and this is my second-in-command, Commander Dominic Williams.”
“I am Onatiasha Ladyknight of the Imperial guard,” she said. “Your commander is not invited.”
“Yeah, uh, he’s just my designated driver, er, I mean pilot.”
“What?” Onatiasha sternly asked her.
“I meant pilot! I don’t know if y’all have these, but back on Earth we used to drive cars, and so during parties we needed—”
“I know what a car is.”
“That’s awesome! So, you know what I was tryin’ to say then—”
“He can remain aboard your transport.”
“Seems good!”
“If he violates this agreement, then I will slit his throat.”
Williams was ready to bolt forward to pick a fight, one that would leave him headless. Foster pushed him back, way back inside the transport. “Right so, remain aboard, Dom.”
“I got a bad feeling about this, Becca.”
“No fighting or grudges . . .” she released his shoulder from her grip, surprised at how firm they were. He’d been working out lately. “Watch a movie or something in the back.”
The chilly air that poured into the transport, prompted her to fetch an IESA coat from the back, before moving out and following Onatiasha and her guards to the elevator. Foster gave Williams one last fleeting look as the transport doors lowered shut, the two exchanged thumbs up gestures.
The journey up in the elevator was long. At least twelve minutes had slipped away as it continued to ascend upward to what Foster suspected was the top of the spire, the one she was able to view from orbit. The armored Hashmedai remained silent, holding onto their plasma swords or polearms like ancient Earth warriors standing watch.
“So . . .” Foster said. “Y’all ever considered having elevator music?” No one replied. “It’s just this ride is so long, having background music would help fill the void, ya know? My helmsman got a killer playlist if you need suggestions.” No one replied. “So, Onatiasha you said your name was right?”
“Yes.”
“You the only one in here that speaks English?”
“Yes.”
“Ah okay . . . Just wondering if y’all heard and understood me. You did, yeah. I get that, just not everyone else.” Onatiasha gave Foster the look of death. She looked away. “Good chat.”
The elevator arrived at its destination, and Foster was escorted out into the highly decorated halls with oddly shaped chandeliers hanging down from the ceiling. To the right of her were windows after windows that looked out into the darkening horizon, dotted with stars and orbiting ships. Below were the thick clouds dusting the city beneath it with snow. It felt like they were on a ship gliding high up between the borders of space and the planet.
Various palace staff, servants, and nobles scurried about, and all paused their activities to gawk at the human woman that stood within the middle of the Imperial guards, making their way down the halls. Part of her felt as if she had been transported to the nineteenth century. She was half-expecting the Tsar of Russia to show up and greet her. Hashmedai accents didn’t help her get rid of those thoughts.
She was taken into the dining area, a pitch-black room with only a spotlight in the center shining its light down upon a wide dinner table. She approached the table, unsure if the guards were with her or not, though the clanks of their footsteps weren’t heard while she took a seat at one of the three vacant chairs.
Two pairs of glowing eyes stepped out from the darkness, Empress Kroshka and the Emperor Eensino. Eensino was wearing a vest that covered the sides of his brawny body, exposing his chest and midriff. Gold- and silver-colored chains dangled off his shoulders, objects that Foster guessed were medals of honor were pinned to the sides of his vest. Behind him was his cape, waving about, stretching down to his pants as he moved to his chair. His entire outfit was blue, like the oceans of Earth, and the ribbonlike ocean that stretched across the equator of Paryo.
Symbolism Foster figured, since Kroshka’s outfit was a white gown, designed to resemble frost, snow, and icicles around her bust, going down her body. The dress she wore even sparkled slightly when in the light, almost as if it was made of snow. If the two stood together and he wrapped his arm around her waist, they would almost look like Paryo.
Foster was underdressed. Not that it mattered, she needed the coat and something warm under it to prevent herself from freezing.
“Thank you for joining us, Captain,” Eensino said, once all three had been seated.
Kroshka clapped her hands twice, summoning servants to place three plates of food on the table. It was entirely protein based, meat wrapped around the bone of some local animal. It was elegantly styled and plated, but there was nothing else, just meat. Foster noticed hers was cooked, unlike the other two.
“I hope you enjoy your meal,” Kroshka said. “Our chef has not had to cook for humans for some time. But as we recall, you prefer your protein cooked all t
he way through.”
She bit into her meal. It tasted like a deep-fried sirloin wrapped in shoe leather. “You should have let me bring our chef; he’s an expert at preparing foods for all species.”
Kroshka swirled her Hashmedai-made wineglass full of a grey and opaque liquid. “Is that so?”
“He made us a salad with protein from Taxah.” Foster forced herself to consume the meal, projecting fake smiles in the process. “But . . . being a food critic ain’t what we came together for right?”
Kroshka sipped her wine. “No, it is not.”
“You believe you have located the homeworld of the Draconians?” Eensino said after downing his drink.
“Homeworld or a major stronghold,” Foster said. “We don’t know exactly, but we can once we get there.”
Eensino held his empty glass up and asked. “Where is it?”
“I doubt the dear captain has such data on her,” Kroshka said.
A servant stepped out of the darkness carrying a bottle of wine and refilled his glass. He shrugged and took another hit of the beverage.
“It’s a place we humans call Omega Centauri,” Foster explained. “The largest globular at the edge of the galaxy.”
Eensino pulled his drink away from his lips, placing it back on the table. He looked at his partner. She looked back, then returned their attention to Foster. “Go on,” Kroshka said to her.
“I have the power to navigate through the maelstrom, and with that device I can open vortexes. Our only problem is, we ain’t got the means to survive a long journey through it, and we don’t have a working device anymore . . . y’all do however.”
Servants returned from the shadows to replace their plates full of bones with the second course. A creature that resembled a snake with legs, once again Foster’s was cooked thoroughly. She was only able to muster three bites before pushing it aside.
“So,” Eensino said after the brief intermission of food. “You wish to take our hard work and research to carry out your mission—?”
“To save us all from this war we cannot win,” Kroshka finished for him, though, Foster had doubts those were the exact words he was thinking.
“It’s the best option we got right now,” Foster said. “You damn right I do.”
“Not necessary,” Kroshka said.
Foster’s eyebrow rose as she faced her. “Oh?”
“This Omega Centauri you speak of—”
“Kroshka . . .” Eensino cut in. A small heated husband and wife debate ensued, spoken entirely in the Hashmedai language. It ended with Kroshka smiling, facing Foster, and Eensino groaning, and face-palming.
“We are . . . familiar with it,” Kroshka said.
“Omega Centauri? Exactly how familiar are you two with it?”
“We colonized a star system on the outskirts of it,” Kroshka said. “And attempted to colonize the stars within it . . .”
“What happened?”
“We sent ships in,” Eensino reluctantly spoke. “They never returned nor communicated with us.”
“Omega Centauri is pretty far away from the explored galaxy,” Foster said. “How did y’all get a colony set up close to it, let alone send ships into it?”
“Remember, our primary means of interstellar travel revolves around the space bridge network,” Eensino said. “We can teleport ships to any location within the galaxy, and beyond.”
“Prior to the war with Radiance, we sought to establish our colonies in random systems throughout the galaxy, rather than keeping them clustered close together,” Kroshka said. “If you were to view a map of Imperial controlled space, it would literally be star systems scattered across the Milky Way, many of them hundreds, if not thousands, of light-years apart.”
“Well, bless your heart, but that ain’t sounding like an organized way to build an Empire,” Foster said.
“It slowed Radiance’s advance into our space,” Kroshka said. “Our systems were far and spread apart, it took them decades to reach one, sometimes centuries. Again, that was just one; we went out of our way to ensure there was an enormous light-year gap in between our systems.”
Kroshka’s words began to make sense, the longer Foster thought about it. With every Imperial system having a space bridge and relying on it, there was no need to keep everything close like Radiance and the UNE did. You could teleport ships over with the space bridge. Throw in MRF technology, and the lowered mass of a ship could help speed up travel times between space bridge jumps. The more ships with them, the faster they could send supplies and establish new colonies.
Yeah, no wonder they want MRF tech so badly, she thought as the dessert course arrived. It was described as something that sounded similar to Foie Gras, it even looked like it. Foster pushed the plate away, opting to drink instead, arguing that she was too full to go any further.
While the emperor and empress wolfed down their last course, something critical popped into her thoughts. She wasn’t sure if the alcohol was making her head clearer, or it was something else.
“Beyond,” Foster murmured. “Sounds like the space bridge network only can send ships to other locations within the Milky Way. How does the ‘beyond’ part fit in?”
“Our space bridges are operated by a vast team of psionic volunteers that spend their lives keeping it in operation with their minds,” Eensino said.
Volunteers, she snickered internally at that term. Nobody volunteered for anything in the Empire, only voluntold.
“Recent advancements in psionic cybernetics have allowed us to enhance their powers,” Kroshka added “Our space bridge psionics have gained the ability to send ships beyond the edge of the galaxy.”
Foster smirked. “Like Omega Centauri.”
Kroshka smirked back. “Exactly.”
“So, what you’re saying is, we might not need to use the maelstrom,” Foster said. “We could take the space bridge directly into Omega Centauri.”
“It’s possible, but do not forget what we said. We have sent ships into that region of space, and never heard from them again,” Eensino said to Foster. “Who is to say your ship won’t suffer the same fate?”
“I’ve already went missing once.”
“And you may not return.”
The talk of ships vanishing got Foster’s head to piece together more parts to the mystery. The Carl Sagan, Abyssal Sword, the Imperial colonization ships that entered Omega Centauri, they all vanished. Throw in Williams’ dreams of seeing Omega Centauri in the skies, and it was quite clear to her that the idea that the Draconians controlling that region wasn’t a theory, but a fact.
“I want to send her,” Kroshka said.
“You can’t be serious?” Eensino objected. “A human ship being given permission to use our space bridge?”
“A human ship co-developed and operated by Radiance,” Foster corrected them. The two faced her slowly and simultaneously, giving her a scowling glare with their red and orange eyes. “But, uh, you didn’t hear that from me!”
“It’s the only way,” Kroshka continued. “The UNE has made contributions to this campaign as did Radiance.”
“We have as well in learning how to develop Draconian technology,” Eensino said.
“Which is only a drop in the bucket,” Foster said. “Help us get there, and the Empire would have pulled their weight, and I dare say, contributed more than Radiance has. Remember, humans favor Radiance over the Empire, after all Radiance came to our aid when you attacked us—”
“That was my mother’s doing, not mine!” Kroshka’s rage-filled voice roared as her hands smashed against the table, making the glass, silverware, and plates vibrate and clang.
“Yeah, but we still have much more respect for Radiance than Hashmedai. We still view them as the aliens that prevented our extinction.” Speaking from experience here. “Now we’s facing extinction again, this time by the dragons. So, help us with this, and it may change the way us humans view Hashmedai. We’ll respect you the way we respect Radiance.”
Foster found herself standing on a balcony gifting her with an unrestricted view of the darkened horizon of the icy planet, and the stellar spectacle above. She spotted the Johannes Kepler in the skies, as it maintained its orbit. It looked like a small shiny disk that remained still in the skies, never moving. She snapped a photo of it with her wrist terminal, and then later took a selfie of her standing next to the railings of the balcony. The effects of the wine were taking their time to loosen their hold on her. She promised Williams she wasn’t going to drink and intended to make that image show when she returned to the transport.
She looked back beyond the railings of the balcony, impressed at the technology the Hashmedai used to keep the extreme cold air and lack of breathable air in the lower exosphere of the planet, away from the environment of the palace.
A slim hand stroked the side of Foster’s arm. “My apologies for the food.”
Kroshka had snuck up and joined Foster in the stargazing and awing at the white clouds far below, that continued to sprinkle flakes to the surface.
“It’s fine,” Foster said.
“If you’d like, you are welcome to attend our festival on Taxah, the capital of the Uelcovis system.”
“Don’t think it’ll be necessary, we’s got a galaxy to save and all.”
“Regardless which path you choose to take to Omega Centauri, you will still need a means of returning home.”
Returning home, it was a detail she forgot to take into account. The space bridge network, as incredible as it was, worked best when you teleported your ship into a system that had another space bridge, so it could take you home or to another detestation. The Imperial ships sent into Omega Centauri most likely met their end, and never built new space bridges.
“The maelstrom will be our only way back to the galaxy,” Foster said, keeping her gaze on the horizon.
“The teams that were responsible for restoring the device you refer to as the vortex key, and studying the protective substance, are stationed in that system. It would be in your best interest to obtain those items before your journey.”