Ascension

by Nicholas Woode-Smith

  ‘An edal? Not at all. Our enemies aren’t edal. My ma was killed by Xank. My pa was killed by humans. My uncle was killed by humans. If I should have a bone to pick, it should be with humans. But as you can see…’

  Jilly pointed at herself with her thumbs. ‘…that’d be pretty weird.’

  Jilly shook her head. ‘So, nah. Edal are edal. Imperials are Imperials. If this edal is a good person, then I want her to be around the Defiant. He needs good people around him.’

  Tim nodded and took a long sip of his soda. He glanced at the time on his holo-watch.

  ‘Skite. We’re late for class.’

  Jilly knocked over her chair and bolted down the hall. Tim barely caught up. Jilly was grinning ear to ear when Tim finally caught up to her. He was panting like a vowl after a long hunt while she wasn’t out of breath at all. A crowd of students was entering the class.

  Jilly’s excitement was so intense that she didn’t even notice the stern expressions on the occasional Defiant guard, and that Marshal was rushing out, a look of strong consternation on his face.

  

  ‘Sekai has been fully occupied by Imperial forces as of one standard hour ago. All Network ports have been destroyed around the system,’ Kumichō-sama, head of the Ganru Cartel on Nova Zarxa, said. His usually impervious expression was held on by a thin string. ‘Our home has gone dark.’

  James and his cabinet of close advisors did not respond. Without Yobu and Nathan, James’ council consisted of Marshal, Quok, Peterson, Alex, Kumichō and assorted representatives from the stakeholders of Zarxan society – including an ambassador from Aegis. That was a seat Danny would usually fill. James couldn’t help but miss the presence of his old boss.

  ‘Why?’ Quok asked, finally.

  Kumichō shrugged. It seemed like a shrug of defeat rather than an admittance of ignorance. ‘Sekai authorities received no communication from the Imperial invaders. Our sparse navy was eliminated in minutes and the planet was blitzed. We have no reports of purging, but that was before the communication black-out. I only hope that this is meant to be just an occupation and not…’

  Kumichō didn’t finish.

  ‘Bring up a starmap of Sekai,’ Marshal ordered one of the attendants. James noted that he had already visibly improved since starting his academy. James couldn’t help but feel a tad self-satisfied. It had been his idea, after all.

  Kumichō made way for a starmap of his homeworld. A giant hologram opened in the centre of the atrium shaped war-room. Its faint blue images flickered to life, illustrating the galactic south of the galaxy – zoomed out.

  ‘This is Extos III,’ the attendant stated, pinging a star approaching the boundary of the galaxy. ‘And this is Sekai.’

  The cabinet shifted uncomfortably. Sekai was on the other side of the core worlds. Right near Imperial space. It was further than Mars. The attendant zoomed in and began rattling on about nearby asteroid belts, nebulas and neighbouring systems.

  ‘Have you requested aid from the Troopers?’ James asked, speaking over the attendant, who stopped speaking.

  ‘Yes,’ Kumichō replied. ‘They added it to their list.’

  Marshal swore. Others looked at him and he explained.

  ‘The Troopers have outstanding requests for aid on the list from the Dark Ages. It is reserved for conflicts the High Command deem unimportant or unwinnable.’

  ‘So, Sekai is on its own?’ James asked.

  ‘The Troopers will not be able to help. Due to apathy, or cowardice in the face of Imperia, they have chosen to let this human world fall,’ Quok said. ‘But that doesn’t mean it has to be alone.’

  Quok stood. ‘I will rally the Grag-Tec fleet stationed here. We’ll fly to Sekai’s aid.’

  ‘Your fleet contains, what – three destroyers and a frigate?’ Marshal interjected. ‘Even if the Imperials have not left a guarding fleet, your ships do not have the manpower to liberate the planet.’

  ‘We cannot stand idly,’ Quok said, unabashed. ‘Grag-Tec was founded by liberators in the spirit of liberation. In the spirit of Grag-Po, the namesake of the corporation which I serve, it is my duty to come to the aid of Sekai.’

  ‘It is suicide,’ Marshal retorted.

  ‘If that is the case, then it is righteous suicide.’

  The two stared each other firmly in the eyes. James knew that their aggression was enhanced even more by the recent friendship that they had cultivated. Marshal did not want Quok to die and Quok did not want to feel that he had done nothing.

  But was a sacrifice worthy if it accomplished nothing?

  No.

  Sekai would not be saved by a mere fleet of three destroyers and a frigate. And the loss of such ships would hurt all the free races. And for nothing.

  Sekai needed to be freed. But could they free it?

  ‘The Defiant shall fly to Sekai’s aid.’

  The voice didn’t sound like James’, but it was his. The room went silent. The Aegis ambassador steepled his fingers and touched his bottom lip, expectantly. Marshal was the first to speak up.

  ‘We don’t have a fleet,’ he said, softly. Almost mournfully.

  ‘That didn’t stop us at the Battle for Nova Zarxa. Didn’t stop us from fielding a fleet that with Grag-Tec and Aegis’ help, defended this planet.’

  ‘That was a defensive battle. They were defending their homes.’

  ‘Many of them, yes. But many of them were off-worlders. Traders. Shipborn. Freighters. Mercenaries. People from all stretches of the galaxy who realised that the fight for their freedom was happening here. They knew this then, and they will know it now. The fight for freedom is at Sekai. If we allow the Imperials to take a foothold in free space, even if it is the part of space so wilfully ignored by the Trooper Order, then we are establishing a precedent that we will let ourselves be kicked to death.’

  ‘Thank you, James,’ Quok said.

  Kumichō nodded in respect. He had tears in his eyes.

  Marshal shook his head. ‘We are poking a sylith nest. A nest the Order won’t even dare offend.’

  ‘You should know by now, Marshal. I don’t poke sylith nests…I blow them up.’

  

  James was not so sure he could blow this nest up, however. At the end of a cautionary debate, the entire cabinet agreed to support a war to liberate Sekai. All except the Aegis ambassador, who approached James after the cabinet to send his regards and regrets.

  ‘Aegis is engaging in a process of corporate rationalisation,’ he said.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘The impending war with Zerian will cost the bulk of our galactic resources. This means we are closing down all non-necessary functions. Including the embassy on Nova Zarxa, our presence in Extos III and our ability to aid in this…expedition…to Sekai. Please accept my apology on behalf of Aegis.’

  Truthfully, James had not been thinking about the Aegis fleet when he committed the Defiant to Sekai’s aid. He had only been thinking about the necessity of the war. The principle of it all. Sekai needed to be freed. And a precedent had to be made that humanity was not a push-over, no matter the backwater world. If the Troopers were more concerned with Black Fleet than Imperia, then it was up to the Defiant to defend Sekai.

  But the absence of the Aegis fleet in this upcoming project was concerning. The Aegis fleet had made up the bulk of the defence force during the Battle for Nova Zarxa. Without Aegis starbombers, the Defiant may not even have taken the city.

  Can we really do it? James thought, as he finally closed the door to his room, leaving attendants, clerks and officers without sufficient answer for their questions on his decision-making. He sat on the edge of his bed and covered his face with his hands.

  He didn’t cry, but he wanted to.

  Then, almost as if by prophecy, the doorbell rang. James normally would have ignored it in this state. He could easily tell anyone that he had been too consumed in his work to answer them. But James felt something.

  Re’lien was o
n the other side, when James opened the door without checking.

  ‘Can I come in?’ Re’lien asked. The attendants, journalists and clerks had dispersed. The hall was empty.

  ‘Yes,’ James answered, simply.

  James closed the door after Re’lien and they made their way to his sitting area. She took a seat. James noted she was wearing a new outfit. A navy-blue corporate suit-jacket and matching skirt. Very formal. Much like Re’lien, when she was on duty. James took a seat. His face was the metallic-blank he had retained for his entire public career as the Defiant.

  ‘I heard you have declared war on the Imperial Council.’

  ‘They declared it first. This is a retaliatory strike.’

  Re’lien nodded. ‘It’ll be hard. Humanity has weapons that are on-par with the Imperial Council, excluding the Martyrs, but nothing is equal to the sheer manpower at the Imperial Council’s disposal.’

  James didn’t respond. He stared past Re’lien, into the geradite wall. His back was straight, tense.

  Re’lien frowned. ‘You fear this is a war that cannot be won?’

  James froze, and then reluctantly nodded.

  ‘Then why fight?’

  ‘Because we have to. Because I have to. Too many died for the rest of us to survive. Too many have died to let even a single world fall to our enemies.’

  ‘But…?’

  James stared. He wanted to cry. To let the weight crush him. To embrace the void, where he was not Defiant. Where he was not a Trooper, a gangster, a thief…but a child.

  James clutched his forehead with both his hands. ‘I…I can’t do it. It wasn’t me who freed this planet. It wasn’t me who defended it. It wasn’t me who paid the ultimate price. I’m just a vokken boy with magic powers. Magic powers that mean zot-skite. I can’t even save all my comrades, and now I thought I could win a war. What an idiot I am. An arrogant fool who fell for his own illusion. I’m no god. Void! I’m not even a leader.’

  James looked Re’lien in the eyes. Those green, non-judging, eyes. Like an exotic ocean. Like a field that all humans felt was home, regardless of their origin.

  ‘What leader leads his people to their deaths?’

  ‘One that knows what is at stake.’

  Re’lien stood up and approached James, hands on her hips, and spoke down to him in a commanding, yet sincere tone.

  ‘There is a time for running, James. And there is a time for charging. When I was sent to this parish, the High Protector told me it was to serve the free races. To serve freedom. The hands of my Order are tied. But you know that yours are not. You have proven that you can fight the Council. That you can win. And vok what you say! It was you fighting. It was you who led your people.’

  ‘But they are the ones who fought…’

  ‘For you! Don’t be so arrogant that you think you can determine if you are their leader or not. The Zonians, the Zarxans – the Defiant – chose you to be their leader. That means something! Cut this self-pitying mozar-skite. Be the man I respect. The man who led his unit across Red Sand. The man who sacrificed his freedom and survived Dedelux’s prison. The man who led a revolution and won.’

  Re’lien leaned down and looked James in the eyes.

  ‘Be the James I know.’

  James wanted to look away, but those green eyes held his stare. ‘How? How can I keep going like this? The Defiant. The Zonians. Me. I’m just one man expected to rule a nation. To win an unwinnable war. And…’

  James did look away, towards the wall.

  ‘The people I could rely on are not there anymore. Marshal is broken. Nathan and Danny are on Mars. Krag-Zot knows nothing past warpmancy. The rest? They look to me for guidance. I don’t have any rock.’

  ‘Then rely on me.’

  James’ head snapped back to Re’lien at the pronouncement.

  ‘Rely on me,’ she repeated, face stern. Sincere. Serious. Driven. As if she had won an internal battle with herself.

  ‘How?’ James asked, simply. Dumbfounded.

  ‘The warp keeps bringing us together, James. That means something. And I promised the High Protector that I would serve the free races. I truly believe that by helping you, I’ll be doing just that.’

  ‘I don’t want to put you through anything…’

  ‘There is nothing you can do that can hurt me anymore than I have been hurt already. And I don’t expect I’ll need to do anything painful. You don’t need any more sycophants, or advisors, or generals. Or even a mentor…’

  Re’lien paused. ‘You need a friend.’

  She offered her hand. James looked at it. Blue, smooth skin. Petite, but James suspected even stronger than his own. James accepted it and let Re’lien pull him up.

  ‘Don’t go quitting on me yet, James. You made the right decision. Now stick to it – and if you have any difficulties…then I’m here to help you.’

  “War comes if you like it or not. Might as well be good at it.” – Matriarch [Unpronounceable by humans] of the Enque Matriarchy to her younger sister.

  Chapter 14.

  Honour and Freedom

  The Defiant Forces, so anxious for action, were just about to get it. Since the establishment of the Defiant State, the combined armies of the Defiant had been training. They had been arming themselves. They had been preparing. For this? Or for a battle yet to come? It did not matter. For honour called, and the Defiant were to answer.

  In the days that followed James’ decision, the Defiant managed to cobble together a fleet of thirteen freighters converted into troop transports and piloted by volunteer civilian pilots, ten mercenary destroyers, four additional disused old Trooper corvettes, one frigate and an almost ancient battleship that had seen the likes of the first and last Merka Emperors. Combined with the Ganru Cartel and Grag-Tec’s fleet, the Defiant were to field 36 ships against an unknown number of enemies.

  Within the troop transports, four converted to allow for orbital deployment, were to be three thousand Defiant infantrymen, supported by assorted armoured cars and field artillery. Frank McGraff led them in Nathan and Yobu’s absence. Under him was an acquaintance of Danny’s, Viper, who had quickly risen through the ranks, Ryan, Leroy and Grugo. There were very few professional Trooper officers left on Nova Zarxa, but these were men James trusted and who had proven themselves in combat and command. They would have to be sufficient to retake Sekai once they broke through the inevitable Imperial blockade. James only hoped that the majority would survive. That enough of them would survive to honour the fallen.

  Molok was to remain on Nova Zarxa, leading the planetary guard, made up primarily of his gray comrades. James was confident that Nova Zarxa would be safe in his absence. Its defences far outmatched the defences that had won the Battle for Nova Zarxa. They would suffice for anything short of an invasion double the scale of the Star Horde’s.

  The day finally arrived to ship out for Sekai. James maintained his steely-façade much easier now. Even if things had not changed in practice between Re’lien and him, her offer of friendship had put his mind at ease. It seemed it was all he needed.

  James stood on a viewing balcony off to the side of the Fort Nexus hangar. The shining metal expanse was lined with dark-metal ships, bearing the Defiant flag. Their exhausts were glowing a faint fiery blue, preparing for lift-off. Row and row of black and blue soldiers marched into the ships. Civilian pilots, wearing hastily procured Defiant Fleet uniforms, stood by the entrances to their ships, greeting the men and women who they would be ferrying to victory or death. The infantry wore full kinetic plating, polymer armour, smart-visors and faceplates. On their backs, they wore assault rifles donated by Aegis or purchased from a variety of sellers. Their kits far outmatched anything the defenders of Nova Zarxa had used in the defence months earlier. But would it be enough? That had been a defence. They knew their terrain. They were in the fortifications. This battle was an offensive. They were charging into an unknown scenario, with an enemy with much more military capacity than them. On the defence
, they were able to field their entire army – but thirteen transports were not enough to field the entire Defiant army.

  It will have to be enough, James told himself.

  Frank saluted him as he passed. James saluted back. The commander entered his transport. Further away, mercenaries surveyed the Defiant Forces. They were mostly hired to pilot the ships. James didn’t trust them, as one shouldn’t trust a mercenary – but he did trust their taste for credits. The Defiant State, fortunately, had a lot of capital after the relaxation of trade barriers, frugal budgeting and the collection of an appropriate level of trade tariffs. So, James could pay for the mercenaries’ loyalty for quite a while.

  Ranks of blue and black infantry dwindled as the entire army was finally embarked on the ships. James, attendants and guards in tow, made his way into the Command-Class battleship, dubbed the Emperor’s Fury. Apparently, it had belonged to the last Merka Emperor of the Horde. The Merka had been betrayed by his own general at the behest of the Trooper Order and the Exanoid Federation. This was apparently the ship where the Emperor had been assassinated by his own comrade. James didn’t believe in bad luck, much less that it could be carried over to subsequent owners, and rather appreciated the history. The battleship was not an advanced model and lacked in the way of the recent centuries’ innovations in bio-tech facilities and drone controls but had survivability and a serviceable command centre. It would do.

  The battleship’s halls were alight with activity upon James entering the vessel. Crewmen raced to get everything ready for take-off. Soldiers rushed to their positions. A cacophony of shouts, orders, beeps and mechanical screeching boomed. In the distance, the engines whirred. James guessed that similar scenes were playing out in all the other ships, including those in the other hangars being used for this operation across the planet.

  On his trek through the battleships halls, officers assailed James, asking for orders, his views and, above all, reassurance. Reassurance that they could win. That this was his will. That even if they were to die, it was to be worth something.