The Weapons of War

by Dan Schiro

  “How can you do this to me?” Orion murmured.

  “It’s already done,” Mervyn muttered. “The footage of your flashy dropship is all over Galactic Core News right now, your picture pasted up next to it.”

  Again the room fell silent, and this time it lasted for long seconds while Orion and Zovaco gazed at each other. Finally Orion stood, threw back the last of his drink in a single swallow and thumped the dram down on Zovaco’s desk. “You’ll ruin my reputation. You’ll ruin AlphaOmega, you know that,” he said, forcing a smirk.

  “In the long term,” Mervyn said, raising a gray hand, “I’m sure that won’t be the case. In time… well, people forget.”

  “And we can certainly compensate you for the slight,” Zovaco added. “It would be a simple matter for me to appropriate the funds to—”

  “A handout?” Orion snapped. “I’d rather rebuild my business from the gutter.” He glanced at his partners and then down at Dalaxa, still in her chair. “We’re out of here. You coming with us?”

  “Absolutely,” said Dalaxa, her big eyes quivering.

  “Politicians,” Kangor said, spitting on the floor.

  Orion turned sharply and strode for the door, his blue-gray smartcloak flared out behind him, and Aurelia and Dalaxa came with him. He only stopped and glanced back when he realized Kangor still glowered in front of Zovaco’s oaken desk. For a tense moment, the big vycart twitched like he might destroy the office again, but then he turned his gaze to Mervyn.

  “Good luck explaining this to Koreen,” he snarled before following the rest of the team.

  They went through the polished double doors into the spacious corridor, the four of them muttering with indignation. All quickly fell silent as a squad of soldiers in blue-accented white uniforms marched up out of a nearby stairwell and confronted them. At a glance, Orion saw that each Legionnaire carried a heavy pulse pistol on their hip, double-banded lightshields on their arms and compartmentalized belts that could have held dozens of different micro-weapons.

  “I’m flattered,” Orion said with mock bow, “but they didn’t have to send the honor guard to see me out.” Behind him, he heard the doors to Zovaco’s office close and seal with a hiss.

  “Just here to make sure you can find your way, sir,” said a durok woman with a blue star emblazoned on her collar. “These old buildings can be confusing.”

  “How kind,” Aurelia said with a roll of her eyes.

  One of the Legionnaires, a s’zone woman herself, took a step toward Dalaxa with her hands open. “And I’ll escort you to your quarters, Dr. Croy.”

  Dalaxa looked confused, but Orion stepped between them. “Now wait just a second.” He could feel the spellblade hidden in his flesh crying out for bloody satisfaction. “Dalaxa’s not going anywhere she doesn’t want to go.”

  The s’zone Legionnaire stopped, her large orange eyes flitting to her superior officer. “We… we were informed that Dr. Croy would be staying on in an advisory capacity. Mr. Claddaghsplough ordered one of the suites prepared for her.”

  Orion glanced at his friends. Kangor’s thick muscles had grown taut, and he saw a flicker of green light in Aurelia’s eyes. They were waiting for him to make a move, and for a fraction of a second, Orion thought about it. Would it be better to go down in a blaze of glory rather than be blamed for tens of thousands of deaths? He felt the spellblade tingling beneath his skin, but Dalaxa laid her slender hand on his arm.

  “It’s okay, Orion,” she said, heaving a deep breath. “Zovaco might be a slimy bastard, but I don’t believe he’ll kill me.”

  “At least not yet,” said Aurelia.

  “Definitely not yet,” she said to Orion in a soothing voice. “And this way, I can stay… in. I can still help stop Typhus before he hurts anyone else.”

  Orion uncoiled, and Aurelia and Kangor took their cue from him. Even the Legionnaires, the finest soldiers in the known galaxy, seemed to relax. “Alright,” Orion told Dalaxa, “but I want you to ping my datacube on the hour to let me know you’re okay.”

  Dalaxa offered a weary chuckle. “Let’s not get too paternalistic now.”

  “Not paternal, it’s just…” He searched for the words for a moment. “You stood beside us in battle,” he said, glancing at Aurelia and Kangor. “That means something to the three of us.”

  “You’ve proved your steel, Dalaxa Croy,” grunted Kangor.

  “Absolutely,” said Aurelia. “And if you don’t like the accommodations here, just say the word.” Her eyes flashed green light at the assembled Legionnaires. “We’ll take the roof off this place to get you out.”

  “Easy now, AD,” Orion said as the tension rose again. He looked Dalaxa in the eyes one last time and squeezed her hand, and then he turned to the commander of the Legionnaires with a smirk. “Ma’am, if you would be so kind as to show us the way out.”

  The durok scowled at his sugary tone, but she nodded and they were on their way. They marched through the ancient hallways and back past the Grand Chambers with Legionnaires surrounding them the whole way. Finally they emerged into the perpetual noon of the Maker Rings’ artificial star, the pale blue sky busy with aircars and dropships. Past that, faint outlines of the sleek new Paragon-class warships cruised between the Maker Rings.

  On the wide mall separating the Grand Chambers from the hyperloop tubes, scores of reporters gathered with datacubes hovering above them like a swarm of insects. The Legionnaires pushed their way through the crowd with elbows and forearms, making room for the AlphaOmega team to maneuver through the close-pressed bodies and hurled questions. Orion stalked through the parting crowd without a word, feeling as if he had walked out of a darkened theater into blazing day after a long movie he didn’t completely understand.

  When they reached the hyperloop port, the durok commander gazed into Orion’s mismatched eyes. “There should be a pod coming along any moment,” she said with a solemn nod. “We can also summon aircabs, if you’re not going far.”

  Orion looked at her for a moment, a bit puzzled by the courtesy. “An aircab would be… good. Thank you?”

  She nodded and turned to her assembled troops. “Attention,” she barked.

  The Legionnaires snapped straight and saluted, open hands raised to shoulder-height in perfect unison. Orion shook his head. “What…?”

  The squad leader shot him a tight smile and reached out to shake his hand. “A lot of us have friends stationed with the Collective Fleet.” She glanced at her team. “And Legionnaires know what it’s like to make hard decisions.”

  Orion nodded numbly and gripped her hand. “Thank you,” he murmured.

  “We’ll keep these pests off you until your ride comes.” She stepped away and shouted orders at her underlings to move the crowd back.

  Orion turned to Aurelia and Kangor, still slightly bewildered. “I’ve got to get back to the office,” he told them as they huddled, their backs to the avalanche of questions from the reporters. “I need space. I need to process this.”

  “I must face Typhus,” Kangor grunted. “The Mad Thinker hid from the survivors of the plague. Though there were few of us, he could have brought us together. He could have helped us. I will kill him for his cowardice.”

  “Well, someone should,” said Aurelia, propping her hands on her hips. “But it’ll be hard to track him down if we can’t leave the Maker Rings.”

  Kangor narrowed his fiery eyes against the bright sun. “I must face him,” he repeated.

  “We’ll get our chance,” Orion said, clapping his hand to Kangor’s massive shoulder. “You know we will.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “I’ll figure out something to get us past Zovaco’s travel ban so we can head for the s’zone homeworld. That’s his next target, we know it.”

  “Perhaps,” said Aurelia with a shrug. “Perhaps not. We thwarted his first attack, so he may change directions.”
>
  “Unlikely,” Kangor said. “If we’re correct about the Warlord’s thirst for revenge, it will not be slaked by a second choice.” He seemed to think for a moment while he scratched his wolfish snout. “But he will be more cautious now that we’ve disrupted him once.”

  Orion nodded. “Hopefully we bought ourselves some room to breathe.” A gust of wind hit him, and he looked up with his hand shading his eyes. A pink-and-black aircab descended toward the wide mall, its humming engine dampening the questions yelled at them from beyond the perimeter of Legionnaires. “You two want to ride back with me?”

  “To the office?” Aurelia said with a chuckle. “No. I’m headed for D’Aroq’s penthouse to relieve some stress.” She smiled at him warmly. “I’ll trust in our great leader to come up with something brilliant.”

  “I have some… stress of my own to work out,” Kangor said as he eyed the rapidly approaching hyperloop pod. “If there’s nothing for me to do but wait, I’ll go to the Kapata Wilds.”

  “That’s fine,” Orion said, his mouth drawing up in a weary smile. “But I’m going to figure out a way for us to get back in this fight. So, for once, you two — come when I call. Pretty please.”

  Kangor nodded. “You can be sure.” He turned and headed for the hyperloop tube with long strides.

  “Of course,” Aurelia sighed. “I know the difference between a job and something more.” She made a casual gesture toward the boxy pink-and-black aircab. “Split the fare?”

  They hopped into the spacious backseat of the sedan-style aircab, and soon they were soaring above the gleaming arcology of the Hub. Aurelia used her emerald-plated datacube to call D’Aroq, a galaxy-famous fashion designer and her dearest party pal. As she expected, he was about to kick off his Celebration of the Trandoshan Sphere, whatever that was. Checking his own datacube, Orion saw that he had 16 messages from Koreen, which he ignored with a sigh. He knew all too well what those were about. Aurelia made chit chat with the aircab driver as they rose and accelerated, but Orion simply stared out the windows at the glittering metropolis skyline and the thousands of vehicles weaving through it. After dropping Aurelia on the private rooftop of her eccentric friend, the aircab floated back up and turned toward the center of the Hub. Echohax Tower stretched high above the other buildings on the horizon, its spire tickling the fluffy clouds drifting across the ceiling of sky.

  Since his Prodigal Star had already been returned to his private hangar, Orion had the aircab drop him at a port on the colossal building’s 105th floor. From there it was a short gravity lift ride to the 98th floor and the AlphaOmega Security office. He made his way through the polished hallways quickly, hoping not to meet any foot traffic from the other offices on the floor, but he hesitated when he reached his own frosted-glass double doors. He laid his hand on the bright red A-within-O logo for a moment, and then he pushed his way through it.

  Inside the lobby, Koreen was on her feet behind her wooden desk, and Bully lay stretched out on one of the couches, his healing bites and stings pink against his dark body. “Orion,” she said. “By the Gods, what have you been up to? I’ve been trying to reach you. Do you know what’s happened?”

  Orion smirked and unclipped the smartcloak around his neck. “What, did Bully crap in the waterfall again?” He waved at the bubbling fixture in the corner. On the couch, the dog stirred, stretched and rose to greet his master.

  “Damn it, boy,” Koreen snapped, her crown of short horns turned down at him. “This is serious. I’ve been on the line all afternoon trying to save our accounts. All of our major retainers — the Union, Phuturistic Pharmaceuticals, Coriolis, you name it — all of them have been canceled. Most of our upcoming contracts, too. Plus, your lawyer’s been calling, leaving messages about a ‘dark ether’ class-action lawsuit.” She threw her calloused hands in the air. “And do you even know what they’re saying about you on GCN right now?”

  “I can guess,” Orion chuckled as he folded his cloak over his arm. “But have you ever considered not calling your employer ‘boy?’”

  “Orion,” Koreen said with an exasperated huff. “What are we supposed to do?”

  “Have faith,” Orion told her. Bully’s lumbering steps finally brought him to Orion’s side, and he caressed the dog’s bug-bitten head. “I’ll figure out something, and you’ll get paid no matter what.” Satisfied with the moment of affection, Bully plodded back toward the couch.

  “Oh, well, consider my mind at ease,” she scoffed. “Orion, how could this happen?”

  “Why don’t you give Mervyn a call?” Orion suggested as he started past her toward his red office door. “He can give you his perspective on it.”

  Still Koreen squawked with questions, but Orion muffled them behind the thump of his thick door. Throwing his cloak on an armchair, he went straight to the multi-tier glass bar and grabbed the bottle of Rumble Horse whiskey. After slumping into the bio-mold chair behind his desk and unzipping the collar of his kinetic bodysuit, Orion pulled the cork from the bottle with his teeth. He considered filling the dirty dram on his desk as he spit away the cork. Yet something that sounded like his father’s voice whispered to him — losing all of his present and future business occasioned a hearty swig straight from the bottle. The rich river of brown coursed into him, and after a cough and a few deep breaths, Orion set the bottle aside. Spinning his chair, he raised his voice to activate the hologram stage along the wall.

  “Search for the most recent mention of Orion Grimslade III in a Galactic Core News broadcast and play.”

  A mystskyn woman with soft green scales appeared behind a news desk, her crisp burgundy suit buttoned high on her neck. “I’m Lamia Rath,” she said into the camera. “And this is your GCN Need-to-Know News Byte.”

  “Lamia,” Orion said, choking on another drink from the bottle. “Good to see you again.”

  “From pampered past to unlikely heroics,” continued the recording, deaf to his sarcasm, “Orion Grimslade III has been many things to many people. His negligent actions at the outskirts of the Collective Fleet, however, are something no one saw coming.”

  A galaxy map appeared with a web of ether routes highlighted green and one long, red vein snaking through the middle. “The destruction of the Fleet-Maker Route,” she continued, “and the thousands of lives snuffed out have brought a firestorm of criticism down on the self-proclaimed ‘security specialist’ and raised calls for increased scrutiny into the Union’s employ of extra-legal agencies.” The hologram shifted to a closeup of his AO-branded dropship disconnecting from the side of the speeding power freighter. “For Parliament’s part, they’ve publicly disavowed the actions of Grimslade and severed all ties with him.”

  Lamia reappeared at her desk, her short, lizard-like snout wrinkled with professional severity. “MP Zovaco Ralli, a personal friend of Mr. Grimslade, called for recognition of the lives Mr. Grimslade may have potentially saved in the Collective Fleet while acknowledging that, and I quote, ‘there should have been another way.’”

  “Really, Zo?” Orion growled as he brought the bottle of Rumble Horse to his lips again. “It’s like that?”

  “Stay tuned to GCN,” said Lamia, “for more on the Fleet-Maker Route disaster, including what we know about the Dawnstar device and a full account of the men, women and children lost between the cracks of space and time.”

  Lamia’s image faded. A slow montage of images filled the holostage, the people known to have disappeared when the route went dark. Captains, traders, family men and young SpaceCorps cadets appeared and dissolved to the sound of honeyed music, and after a handful of seconds, Orion could take no more.

  “End playback,” he snapped.

  He stood, pushing his chair away behind him, and trudged out of his office. A toxic mix of regret and indignation swirled in his soul, quickly fermenting into sludgy despair. He had promised Kangor they would get their chance to face Typhus, but what c
ould he do with his ship grounded and his name on the no-travel list? Annihilation could come for the Maker Rings at any moment, and he had no card left to play.

  In the office’s small locker room, he stowed his combat gear and showered with water so hot it scalded his skin pink and his consulin scars white. He quickly toweled dry his lanky frame, pulled his favorite snow-white suit from his storage locker and dressed. After fixing a red A-within-O pin to his lapel, Orion headed back through the AlphaOmega lobby. Though Koreen was gone for the night, Bully perked up on the couch when he saw Orion.

  “At ease, boy,” Orion said with a raised hand. “And don’t wait up.”

  He hit the frosted-glass double doors resolved to feed his id what might be its last meal before the weapons of war rained down on them.

  Chapter 18

  Orion took the executive tube down to the Grand Plaza for a fresh shave and haircut, but Skagg’s place was dark and locked. Had the old poxgane barber finally taken that vacation, or had he simply closed at a reasonable hour for once? With a shrug, Orion headed up to the Palladium Eatery to gorge himself on Fin & Tail sushi.

  He got his first clue that not everyone felt the way the Legionnaires did when he sat down at the bar. Bog Gu’labinate, the normally gregarious owner and chef, barely spoke to Orion or met his eyes as he cut precise slices of lockhovven fish and fire eel with his many tentacles. Orion ate while Bog wiped down cutting boards and polished thin knives, making a show of washing instruments that were already clean so he wouldn’t have to engage with Orion.

  With his belly full and his bill paid, Orion decided to take a page out of his father’s book. After all, if one was going to wallow in self-pity, they should at least have the class to do it with expensive liquor. He left Fin & Tail, made his way through the Palladium Eatery’s maze of one-room restaurants and took the common gravity lift for the long ride up to the 199th floor. The lift’s other occupants, a gaggle of frayen women with elaborately dyed wing feathers, fell silent when he stepped aboard. The young women eyed him with sidelong sneers until they strutted off on the 188th floor’s boutique district.