Come, dance too much under the pale light of the stars.
Find the one true love that has been near you always, take that love by the hand and dance forever.
HMS T'zaht - Dead Space - Eelim Enclave
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-SIX
The conference room, down a short connecting hall from the bridge and behind the main computer cores, was moderately well appointed; comfortable chairs around a broad table, with repeater displays recessed into its centre, and large reinforced windows looked out on the darkness of the void.
Chuck was stirring tea in his cup, the spoon grazing the edges of the mug with a rhythmic clinking, slow and methodical, he stared absently out of the window. Beside him, Kyr looked agitated, his eyes darting around the room as he tried to think.
Katz waited a moment, sitting with his back to the windows, before he finally gave up. "I got nothing," he admitted.
"Nadda as well," Chuck offered. "I know squat about Eelim Territory."
Kyr felt something niggling at the back of his mind, something he should remember. He sat staring at Chuck's cup, his brow heavy with thought.
"We could run like hell for Tempus," Katz suggested, "though it just about killed Excalibur's jump drives to do all that dead jumping. We might get lucky..."
"With no engineer?" Chuck asked. "That's one hell of a risk. Might as well play Russian roulette with a Polian Kill'a'ma'jig."
"Well Muwani space is closer," Katz said, "but there's nothing there 'cept Muwani..."
"Aivilik!" Kyr's head snapped up, "Commander Durnham and Expedition Two are on Aivilik, that's on the Eelim-Muwani boarder..."
Katz nodded. "It's a start at least. And we can figure out how to get to Tempus from there." He called up the holographic interface, punching in commands and resolving a spatial map above the table before him. "We can make Aivilik in about nine days hard jumping."
"Four dead jumps," Chuck said, reaching out to hit a few controls of his own, "if you're willing to navigate a beacon pulsar, and there's little chance the Eelim will follow that course..."
"Isn't that dangerous?" Kyr inquired, looking at Katz for confirmation.
"Yeah," Katz said with a resigned sigh. "Pulsars will fuck with jump drives if we're exposed for too long; the inherent radiation dampens jump effects. If we jump in, there is a good chance we won't be able to jump out again."
"I don't like that option," Kyr stated evenly. "What's the nine day option?"
"Through highly habited Eelim systems," Chuck said, tasting his tea and sitting back in his chair. "I don't mean to be an ass, but we'd be better off with the pulsar."
Chuck had donned a light sports coat with the Katz patch sewn onto it, mirroring a bright red leaf on the opposite side. Kyr vaguely remembered it had something to do with old Earth, but hadn't had a chance to ask Chuck about it. He examined the star charts and nodded. "I remember the Eelim were... persistent. Can we guarantee they're not following us?"
"He's right," Katz agreed, "they tracked the Excalibur through a two week dead jump voyage. If we make for Aivilik they'll probably head us off."
"This ship is rigged for stealth," Chuck offered. "That might give us some protection."
"Are you sure about that?" Katz questioned the older man. Chuck was somewhere in his early thirties, close to Darien's age, and yet Katz still thought of him as old.
"W-well, I don't know," Chuck answered. "They didn't follow us through this jump..."
"Bigger fish to fry," Katz said surely. "Gorean destroyer big, in fact. We'll get mopped up when they're done with that."
"If the Eelim still want to find us," Kyr piped up, "what happens if they don't perceive us as a threat?"
"Darien tried that," Katz objected, "no common language..."
"Actions speak louder than words," Kyr said, nodding to the map. "Gorean destroyer in their space... The enemy of my enemy is my friend."
"You want us, short handed, to go willingly into a fight with a Gorean destroyer and God alone knows how many Eelim swarmers?" Katz asked.
"It's a good idea," Chuck agreed. "And if we're screwed, might as well take it to 'em, eh?"
"Yeah, great," Katz replied sarcastically, "let's go.".
Kyr stood up. "Well it beats just sitting here. Or leading the Eelim right to Expedition Two. I vote do it."
"I do too." Chuck held up his hand.
"I don't recall this being a democracy," Katz muttered, getting up. "All right, we'll try. But my money's on a rather nasty death at the end of this one. But... whatever."
Katz shook his head as he made his way forward to the bridge, checking the recharge gauge on the jump drives. They were approaching nominal; a couple of hours and they would be ready. He looked back as Chuck entered, the Science Tech reading engineering reports off of the rear monitoring displays.
"Give me the real deal," Katz said, looking over at the newest member of his crew. "Why're you here?"
"Chance to fight back," Chuck replied. "I suppose that's it, really. After they ambushed the Caledonia, I had to watch as they invaded an outlying mining colony. We were just floating trash to them; they'd blown out our drives, burned holes in our hull... left us to die. All any of us could do was watch from orbit as they landed on Okah... Captain Jacobs did all she could to keep us together, but most of the crew enlisted when we reached Eisenhower. I came to you. Seems yours was the best chance I had for getting a shot at the Gorean..."
"Well you're going to get that," Katz said evenly, "that's for sure."
POW Camp - Karin - Gorean Occupied Territory
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-SEVEN
The Justicar smiled its welcoming smile. "And he comes again."
Alessandro sagged, "I am..."
"Lie," Edward reminded him, standing in the chamber as he had promised to do.
"I am... A Templar Knight," Alessandro said, shakily standing up straight, meeting the Justicar's gaze. Although he knew it would earn him more suffering, he had to take back a little bit of himself. A small piece that was his and only his, that the Gorean could never strip from him.
"The Templars are a lost order," the Justicar said calmly. "There are no academies, and your monastery on Keppe is nothing more than a joke. A tourist attraction that rich Orions take their children to, scaring them with stories of an evil Empire..."
Edward smiled. "Go on, lie..."
"You're wrong," Alessandro said, trying to sound confident, although his voice cracked a little as he spoke. "We still exist, we survived. Learning..."
Edward nodded. "Z'ræl, tell him you learn all about Z'ræl's teachings."
The Justicar seemed disinterested, selecting the plasma rod and testing it.
"Z'ræl," Alessandro whispered. "I learned Z'ræl's teachings..."
The Justicar's head snapped up, his eyes wide in shock. "What did you say?"
"I am a Templar Knight," Alessandro said, the rattled expression on the Justicar's face giving him confidence, "and I have learned the teachings of Z'ræl. My order survived the fall of the Empire, and I will tell you nothing."
Edward nodded again. "Good, a lie's only good if you sell it. Tell him you know that his master, Sal-zÿr, is also a disciple of Z'ræl."
"I know your master," Alessandro licked his lips, "is a disciple of Z'ræl as well."
The Justicar dropped the rod to the bench, standing uneasily, "I can see that I have underestimated you..." his mouth twisted, "Templar."
"Ma tu sì' proprio 'na zoccola," Alessandro spat, his breath heaving as he took a shuddering step forward. "I am not afraid of you..."
The Justicar shook his large head. "And I am not afraid of you, Templar, what can you do to me?"
Edward grinned impishly. "Tell him that you are going to make him squeal like a little girl."
Alessandro choked, looking questioningly at the vision of the Prince, before he focused again on the Justicar. "I- I am going to make you squeal like girl..."
The Justicar opened its mouth to laugh at the empty threat, a laugh that was strangled as the large creature was slammed back against the far wall, hard enough to crack the stonework.
Edward kept his hand raised, pinning the creature. "Tell him that His Watchful Eye doesn't see everything, and that the next time it sees you, you will pluck it out."
Alessandro hobbled forward, repeating the Prince's threat, putting iron behind his words. Somehow it was made all the more threatening coming from a beaten and bloodied youth who had survived the worst the Justicar had to offer.
Edward nodded his head in satisfaction, "good, thank you..."
When the guards returned Alessandro to his cell, they led him inside cautiously, keeping their distance from the boy and scampering away. Alessandro sunk into his bed to get some well deserved rest, Captain Shale watching him protectively as he slumbered, a smile on his face.
Destroyer S'aat - Skrow System - Eelim Enclave
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-SEVEN
Along her length she burned, carbon armour plating seared off and smouldering under the intense barrages from millions of tiny ships that screamed along her hull. The crescent boosters were mere shells, the great drives an incandescent blue that flickered as they struggled to remain lit, trying to keep the great vessel from listing as she was torn apart.
Swarmers, weaving and dodging, battled the last few Gorean fliers, cutting them down as they strove to stay aloft and cover the retreat of their mothership. But it was to no avail; she was stricken and crippled, and her death throes were violent.
Lady Tagria held onto the rail of her bridge, looking at the desolation and death around her. Those of her sisters that had manned the stations of the ship had remained at their posts long after the order to abandon ship had sounded. They fought back tenaciously against the dogged attacks until they too had died in the thick smoke that rose from the fires burning below.
Her glorious heritage as the Avatar of the sun goddess wouldn't allow her to be defeated, nor surrender. She had to find a way to survive, to get free of the wreck of her ship and reclaim her glory again. She couldn't die on the edge of uncharted space; her pride wouldn't allow it.
Any attempt to launch life boats had resulted in a massacre, the swarm shooting down anything and everything that left the once mighty destroyer. The Eelim ensuring that nothing survived, a stark message that they were not to be trifled with. As powerful as the Gorean were, they had come to regret their transgression into the midst of an anthill.
Tagria recognized her mistake in ordering the initial attack on a seemingly tiny and insignificant ship. She had grossly miscalculated the Eelim's true strength, which lay in their numbers. She wished there was some way for her to explain that to her lord Sal-zÿr, to warn him of the danger that lay through the Jump Nexus, but her FTL communication array had been turned to slag inside of the first hour of battle.
After twenty three hours, the battle seemed endless. Her fatigue drained her of hope, and she wondered why her death was taking so long.
It was a cruelty of fate that Paladin appeared at that point, his starship jumping into the system, detected by a failing sensor system that readily identified it as the ship she had pursued. She found the will to spit out a curse; he had tricked her. Beaten her outside of their battle arena of fighter verses flier, in a starship. It appeared he was as cunning as he was skilled.
The swarm turned on the Imperial ship, marked with its Cat insignia, but the Imperial warship ignored them, powering through the swarm to open fire on the Gorean ship. He had waited until she was defeated to strike, the quad rail cannons tearing gaping holes that rent to the depths of her ship as he pulled away. The swarm seeming confused by his actions, but Tagria knew; Paladin was coming for his revenge on her for the massacre of the civilian fleet.
The swarm parted for him on the second pass, allowing him to attack the larger ship, his cannons flaring again. The swarm broke off its attack, gathering up to wait and watch. Tagria was glad of the respite; it gave her tired body time to think.
His shots were churning up what was left of the outer hull, leaving the secondary, inner hull for the most part intact. But that would soon change as, with each pass, his firepower carved deeper into the Destroyer.
She made her way back along the bridge, reaching the emergency system that was reserved for her Gorean masters should they be trapped upon a destroyer that was doomed. It wasn't as sophisticated as a Propylon system, but the principle was similar; a device that she held in her hand and then depressed the right part of the complex pattern that decorated the device's surface. She waited as it separated into five equal pieces, each leaving the main box that remained in her hands to hover about her in an exact arrangement. They rotated as they waited for her to input the correct commands.
She darted her claws to prod each of them in turn, knowing that the short range device only had one potential destination that it could reach, the only place with the size large enough to house her. She used it to teleport her to Paladin's vessel.
She appeared with the Portkey in the darkened recesses of the enemy's cargo bay, the Portkey reassembling itself and going dark as it latched itself down. She would atone for the sin of using it another time; a purification bath in the milk of a hundred breeding slaves would do. She drew her knife, setting her jaw as she tasted the air, trying to make out scents aboard the alien vessel.
Morning Commuter Train - Centauri System - Amsus Occupied Space
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-SEVEN
He found himself in the back carriage of the train after leaving the scene of Alessandro's ordeal in the Gorean prison camp. The experience had taught him that there was strength in belief. He wasn't sure that perpetuating it was the right thing to do, but each time he examined the mistakes of the past he found himself lost in his own arguments.
The past was a puzzle, a broken mirror, and as he tried to put the pieces back together he cut himself. The events of before, like the reflection in the broken glass, kept shifting, and he found himself changing along with it. He was becoming something new, something more than he had been.
The rattling of the train carriage kept him awake despite its hypnotic cadence. There was a stillness in the air that morning on the booming colony world, people rousing themselves to start meaningless days picking up briefcases and trudging drearily along their ways to work, forgetting in the rush to earn money that they were supposed to be living instead of existing.
Edward pitied them, absently playing with his pinkie finger as he chewed on his lip considering his monumental task ahead. Trains always helped him think; something to do with the chugging rails. There were tonnes of trains on Mars, ringing the domed cities high on suspended monorails. He guessed it had something to do with the fact that they always reminded him of his early childhood and the fleeting happiness therein.
Elias's memories, Edward surmised. There weren't any trains on Geldan, not that he could remember any way. Again with the mirrored puzzle, he wasn't quite sure where one part of him stopped and the other began any more. They were blending together so much it was eerily unsettling to think that soon there wouldn't be two people any more, just one new person in their place.
He had to focus himself. There was a job to be done, and he could hear his grandfather's admonishment in his mind about laxity when there was a battle to be fought. Not that Edward could find any conventional solution to the problem. How the hell did a five foot nothing demi-god fight a hundred foot long lizard without his super powers? He didn't trust this Z'ræl, and if it indeed gave Sal-zÿr some kind of advantage, some capacity to turn them back on him, he couldn't take the risk.
Temporal manipulations would get him only so far. Stopping time might have worked, but Edward couldn't take the risk that Sal-Zÿr could thwart that strategy with the help of his unseen god. Nothing quite like being hugely over powered and having a big ace in the hole. Edward wished he'd thought of that one.
The train lumbered out of its tunnel and into the brilliant sunlight of the Centauri morning; they were in the old quarter, near to the earliest settlements of the colony. It had been established under the UN as one of the first human colonies outside the Sol system. It held a chequered history first as an American Colony, then as a member state of House VonGrippen under the Empire. Lately it had reverted to its American roots, flying the Neo-American flag and proclaiming its loyalty to the Hegemony.
Edward smiled, wondering if they realized the origins of the flag they flew, or even what the white cog in the field of blue in the top left of the red striped flag actually meant. It had come to represent the birth of House Morvanor in his revolution against the Immortal Emperor. A ruse, of course; Morvanor himself had been a loyal ally of the Emperor long before the Americas joined the Empire. But the narrow-sighted colonists of Centauri rarely bothered to research their history. It had been the last flag of a free United States, and of course the colonists had sought to fly it when their world was freed again from House rule by the Amsus invaders.
Edward sat staring out of the window, pushing his hair back and contemplating the scenery around him. The governor of Centauri lived in one of those homes, and a little bit of Elias-ness seeped into him at the recollection that the Governor was often the butt of many jokes running back to the early days aboard the Dragonfly.
He caught himself day dreaming again and told himself off. A slight smile decorated his face as he remembered times when his Grandfather had done the same in those rare, totally unguarded and human moments that had passed between them during his childhood.
There had been a time when Edward was had slipped out to escape the latest sermon from Bishop Lamont's pulpit, moving quietly to the cathedral cloakroom. He had heard a chuckle as he slunk in, looking up to see VonGrippen senior hiding there as well, his dress white uniform undone and his aged forehead resting against the mahogany of his walking stick.
There had been no words at the beginning; both VonGrippens inadvertently mirroring the other. Senior keeping his eyes half closed as he lounged, Junior doing much the same, trying to appear aloof.
"I'm bored," Edward had said, breaking the silence between them.
"Yes," senior responded, cracking open an eye to look at the boy that he had raised since infancy. "I wonder if he realizes that his incessant droning is putting his congregation to sleep?"
Edward had been about thirteen, still years before the fall and the darkness that swept in after it. It had been a time when he had known that there was nothing his Grandfather wouldn't have done for him. That the love they shared had been unspoilt by the ravages of the war that was to be caused by the very man they had hid from that day.
"You look so sad," Edward said quietly, his blue eyes searching his grandfather's as they rested heavily.
"I have only one joy in my life," VonGrippen senior said at length, opening his eyes fully and pushing his grey hair away from his eyes as it stubbornly fell back into place, "and that's you. You're all I have left. And all I want." He reached out with a gnarled hand to scrub Edward's pristine hair. "I am proud of you, my little Prince."
The memory brought a smile to Edward's face, and a warm feeling of comfort flooded through him. He'd read The Little Prince countless times and, in a way, the Elias part of him mirrored the tenacious young lead from the book. Despite all he had been through, that part of him held an innocent joy that awed even the centuries old Prince Edward. It gave him a flippant and uniquely frank perspective on the world that so many 'grown ups' failed to see.
It was at that moment that Edward realized the mistake he had been making. Instead of trying to seek how his Grandfather would have fought Sal-zÿr, he should have been asking that creative part of himself. The part that was undoubtedly, truly, Matthew Pierre Elias would solve the problem.
Karin Highlands - Karin - Gorean Occupied Territory
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-SEVEN
She'd spent an uncomfortable night in a barn. Mayfair's jeep was tucked out of sight of random flier patrols beside a tractor inside the worn wooden structure, and Masconi had found a bit of rest in the hayloft, her assault rifle tucked close to her chest as she listened to the sounds of war in the distance.
Mayfair's full offensive had caused the Gorean to retreat further, their lines crumbling without the support of their armada in orbit. It was merely a matter of time until he could reach the capital and co-ordinate a siege of the plateau city.
She cracked open an eye, looking at Grogen, who was sitting at a window smoking. A dangerous habit in a hayloft, but she knew better than to tell him to stop. He was staring out into the dim light of the dawn, his eyes creased in a manner that told her there was danger about.
"What?" she asked, rolling up and hefting the DT-09 to her shoulder, peering through the scope in the direction the Marine was watching.
The Gorean were camped down the road, collected in a cluster beside a human truck, receiving orders from their officer, who was banging his plasma rifle on their helmets, gesturing about him at the collected stone farms, ordering them on a search.
"James?" Masconi asked.
Grogen shrugged, which meant to Masconi that the Fida'i had positioned himself to do as much damage as he could as effectively as he could.
She eased the safety off of her rifle, taking careful aim and switching the rifle to single shot mode. At the range they were at, they were better off sniping. They could deal with at least half the platoon before they could reach the barn...
"Wait," Grogen growled, his eyes narrowing further, a slight smile played on his face.
Masconi sighted again, glancing at a shadow moving around the truck; James.
She watched the Fida'i rotate his wrist, mere feet from the nearest Gorean, producing one of his knives and severing the hydraulic brake line on the truck then vanishing back into the shadows on the far side.
There was a pause, and the truck shifted, beginning to roll down the hill, away from the barn. Masconi grinned at the inventive distraction, grabbing her pack, leaping down from the hayloft and clambering aboard the Jeep. Grogen was a few steps behind, pulling himself into the back where Fenwick was still trussed up like a turkey. Masconi started the Jeep, racing the engine as she floored the accelerator. She ducked as the jeep burst from the barn, sliding around in the mud and gunning its way up the road in the opposite direction to the rolling truck and the scrambling Gorean.
She glanced across at James sprinting along the wall at a dead run, bounding down to the road and up into the passenger seat as she slowed down for him. The amused look on the assassin's face said that he had enjoyed the morning romp. The pounding of ineffectual gunfire from the Gorean resonated behind them as they roared away.
They were getting close to their goal, she could feel it.
Power Sports - Centaurai System - Amsus Occupied Space
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-SEVEN
The clerk eyed the young man with suspicion, following him around the oversized warehouse that had been converted into the power sports enthusiast's wet dream. There was everything in there from the latest ATV's right through to surplus Amsus drop trooper gear for sub-orbital chuting.
Edward ignored the attention, picking up pieces of gear and examining them with an engineer's eye, trying to work out how to modify them and in what ways they could be useful to him. So far he'd narrowed himself down to three solid approaches to the battle.
The first, as Darien would put it, was the sledgehammer approach; build a tank, arm it with a nuke and play fry the lizard. The problem would be, of course, the collateral damage that went along with that particular method. Irradiating Karin city wasn't exactly going to help him liberate it.
The second approach was stealth, but building a cloaking device wasn't exactly feasible. Sure, he could use holographic technology, or even use nanobots to mask his approach and disguise him from Sal-zÿr's eyesight, but that wasn't going to do him much good against the creature's formidable sense of smell. Then there was the fact that the power consumption factors of both nanobots and holographic displays would show up on even a Gorean scanner as a blaring red 'X-marks the soon to be dead Princling'.
That left option three, and the reason that Edward was at the power sports store picking his way through the maze of skimmers, chutes, anti-gravity harnesses and other assorted fun ways to kill oneself. Naturally, Edward had picked up a tee-shirt that read 'I'd rather be scared to death than bored to death!'; it was only fitting for his current situation.
He needed speed and manoeuvrability, the likes of which not even a Gorean flier could muster. And if explosive pop was everything, then it was the biolite mk. 50 hoverboard that delivered.
The salesman, brightly decked out in a nanite-fibre tee-shirt with Orion-X-treame flashing in a marquee fashion sidled up to him with a false smile that contained far too many teeth, all pointed in that typical Orion fashion, save for the fact that he seemed to have drunk far too many Denver-Cola's that morning. "I see that you have adventure on your mind." The salesman patted the light board that stood on its display in front of them, stark grey picked out with attractive neon orange highlights that pulsed and glowed in a way that made anyone with a love of skateboards, Elias included, go a little gushy inside.
"No other board gives you more abrupt elevation." The salesman began his pitch the usual way, and Edward listened, his eyes wide in a very eager fashion that would naturally cost him a fortune once the bidding began.
"Y-yeah?" Edward stammered.
"Period." The Orion crossed his heart. "The Biolite Fifty ranks amongst the best designs for smooth transitions and incredible edge control, so if you're looking for a pro-board for serious hover-boarding competition, this should be your top choice..."
"Uh-huh," Edward drooled, running his hand over the compact frame and glancing underneath.
"It has an ultra-abrupt three stage rocker, the best ever developed and still legal in the Hegemony, meaning it can elevate like no other..."
"You mentioned that," Edward pointed out, glancing at the salesman. "I need a blend of aggressive power with enhanced stability."
"It has both," the salesman answered truthfully. "The omni-directional thruster means you can tilt and change your axis whenever you want, this gives you even more control when you find your sweet spot and will help you keep everything right when you need it the most."
"Oh I'll need that," Edward mused poking the thruster and scribbling some notes on the back of his hand with a biro. "How do you think it would hold up against animal attacks?"
The salesman looked confused, "Sir?"
"You know," Edward said, straightening up. "Biting... the odd claw raking?"
"Well, these boards are reinforced with a mono-filament weave that makes them durable..." the salesman tapped the board again to demonstrate. "You were planning to fly this through city streets... with dogs?"
"More hoofing great lizards with a slight grudge," Edward clarified flippantly. "Say, speaking of which, d'you have any ATV gear? Chest protectors, helmets and such?"
"We have a new one in with an Acerbis Impact protector..." the Orion began uncertainly, wondering if the young man was crazy.
"Oh, that'll be useful against tail swattings," Edward smiled. "Add that to the list. Now, I'm also going to need paintball guns, and... maybe you should get a cart, this is going to be quite a lot of buying on my part."
"This will be expensive," the Orion said dubiously, sceptical that the scruffy boy in front of him could pay.
Edward produced a platinum credit card, "the governor is an old friend of mine and he leant me his credit card... what was that you were saying about cost?"
HMS Excalibur CVX-11 - Eyre Colony - Geldan Territory
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-SEVEN
There was the usual bustle below decks aboard the Excalibur, Darien's orders that there be no sign that the Excalibur was crippled was being followed closely. The crew cleared away anything that might belie their true state along the main corridors that connected the aft courier deck to the bridge. What remained of the marine and Dragoon detachments aboard ship had stationed themselves to ensure that the Geldan delegation proceeded directly to the Warlord's stateroom without deviation.
Darien hadn't changed; he kept his 49-er's ball cap affixed on his head and a well worn fleece over his off duty clothes. He wanted to set the right tone without overwhelming the delegation with Imperial trappings. He knew that Edward had sent them there for a purpose, but he was still slightly angry about being dumped without warning or intelligence into a sector of space that had been cut off from the rest of civilization for more than three hundred years.
He played with a piece of metal, looking at the alien chronometer in front of him again, circles within circles that waited for him to set it into motion. He had no idea what had possessed him to build it, nor what it symbolized. He tapped it with his finger and watched it spool up, clicking and whirring as the alien clockworks spun and clicked, rotating the glass circlets around in an ancient dance.
"Warlord Taine," a voice greeted from the doorway.
Darien looked through the clock, focusing his eyes on the young man wearing a Russian-styled military uniform, peaked cap tucked beneath his arm while he held a crisp salute. Darien straightened up and frowned. "You're the delegation, Commander?"
Wojciech inclined his angular features, which were characteristic of his Slavic heritage. His dark brown hair gelled back precisely and his deep brown eyes were heavy, "I am sorry, Warlord, but my government has declined your request for an audience."
Darien bristled as he slumped back into his chair and tilted the brim of his cap back away from his eyes, "I wasn't aware I was making a request."
Wojciech's hand fell from the salute and a stern look set across his peaches and cream complexion. "With respect, Warlord Taine, you arrived out of nowhere. It took my government nearly a century to undo the damage Imperial dictatorship inflicted upon our people. There were several civil wars within House territory, the last of which resulted in terrorists detonating nuclear weapons in major cities on Republic worlds. Those memories are still very fresh in our minds; you will forgive them if they aren't exactly eager to acknowledge your arrival, sir."
"They need to listen to me," Darien stated evenly, "there is a war for Earth raging as we speak, the Gorean are overrunning the Apilon Rift..."
"That isn't our problem," Wojciech answered levelly, walking into the stateroom and examining the books on the shelves, "we have had relative peace in our little sanctuary away from the pressures of the rest of the Galaxy, VonGrippen saw to that when he sealed us away..."
"You're not a VonGrippen," Darien followed the Commander as he walked, watching the way he seemed fascinated with everything about him, the Warlord's eyes focused upon the golden dragon on his shoulder. "That is the symbol of the House of Chow."
"Sino-Russian Federation," Wojciech corrected. "We ceased referring to ourselves as houses a long time ago. We had three hundred years to evolve out of anarchy and into the stabilization of communism."
There was a vague hint of irony in the tone that most people would have dismissed, but Darien's TER-SEC training refused to allow him to just let go of it. He turned his chair to glance out of the window at where the Geldan fighters were collected on escort picket, flanked by the F-150s.
"What do you know about what's been going on outside of Geldan Territory?" Darien inquired. "While you fought your civil wars?"
Wojciech turned, a hint of curiosity in his eyes, "Nothing, sir. We are isolated without the Jump Nexus, and after the beacon corridor was destroyed the only means to reach our space was through this ship." He motioned to the Excalibur, "VonGrippen used to bridge the void several times a year before the Jump Nexus was built bringing news with him. But for three hundred years, not even an FTL communicator will bridge the divide."
"Jammed?" Darien questioned curiously.
"After VonGrippen sealed the Jump Nexus it was deemed prudent that the House government maintain an FTL embargo. After the revolution the Party naturally concurred with this decision, to avoid any outside interference."
"Isolationism," Darien surmised. "It may have saved you from..." He turned and inputted some commands into the computer on his desk, standing up and gesturing for the Commander to sit down. "I am not asking you to defy your government, just for you to understand what's going on outside."
"Information is dangerous," Wojciech's eyes glanced at the computer and then back at Darien. "I am a loyal party member, Warlord, and my government has made it clear that they don't want me to know."
"The House of Chow," Darien said, scooping up VonGrippen's logbooks and flipping through the pages. "The old man spoke highly of its officers, in fact he maintained places amongst his senior ranks aboard Excalibur for your people," He paused and examined the page closely, "because, and I quote, 'I find their capacity for duty and loyalty is tempered with a fierce individual sense of what is innately right or wrong.'" Darien looked up, "I have come to learn a few things since I first put on a uniform and took command of this ship, one of those things being that symbols mean everything," he nodded to the patch. "Sino-Russian Federation or not, that is the symbol of the House of Chow. And you know the right thing to do is learn why I am here."
"My personal beliefs aren't the issue here," Wojciech bit back, his feathers ruffled by Darien's frank assessment. "I could be arrested for spreading dissident information if I read that. For all I know, this could be some insurgent ploy..."
Darien reached out and tapped a bulkhead, the sharp rapping ringing through the stateroom. "That's real metal, this is a real ship and I am a real Imperial Warlord. Sit down and read the damn reports, Commander."
Wojciech heaved a reluctant sigh. "You are going to be a major annoyance for my government."
Darien nodded. "I'm a bit of an annoyance for my own government as well at the moment. Come to mention it I don't think there is a government out there right now that actually likes me. I cause complications wherever I am, it seems."
Wojciech sat down, his hands tapping onto the computer keys. "As do I, sir." He stared at the screen as he set his cap aside, looking at Darien watching him. "But I'll decide if this is worth more complications or not."
Darien nodded, "I'll be on the bridge when you're done."
HMS Anger of Hades - Under Arctic Ice- Amsus Occupied Earth
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-SEVEN
"It's a manifesto," Zoran said as his marines banged the bathroom stall door down on the deck before the Field Marshall.
"In the John?" Riley asked, folding his arms and taking a step back to read it, scrawled in permanent marker.
"The Brotherhood think they're funny," Zoran snarled as he wandered forward, gesturing around him at the observation dome, surrounded by fish, ice and water, "I am thinking I will be funny guy too, send them out for swim..."
Riley shook his head. "Won't do any good, morale's low and I don't blame them for it. Things are pretty shitty right now..." He paused in his reading. "They want to free the motherland; whoever wrote this wasn't very poetic."
Riley read it, shaking his head and smiling. "They talk of brotherhood, of fighting... maybe we need to give them a fight. A fight where they can actually use this stuff..."
"You have idea?" Zoran inquired curiously.
The Field Marshal gestured for the marines to take the toilet door away, glancing at the old pirate. "We need to get our men out, onto Earth. The Amsus don't know we're here? Well, let's use that, get our troops onto the planet, into the cities and reaching the people. The brotherhood has the right idea, just the wrong damn target; let's show them who the target should be. The Fifth Column's been doing this for years, and they didn't have half the military training these crews have."
"I am liking this idea," Zoran replied. "I have shuttlebay under ship positive pressure; a little work for engineers and we can be starting to ferry troops to shore. I believe Canada and Russia are closest, maybe we can use jump pods to drop troops around the planet."
"Now you're thinking," Riley said with a smile. "Tell them to paint the date of D-day." He walked over to a map. "Nothing scares the crap out of a government like an ultimatum..."
"You are going to tell the Amsus the date of our attack?" Zoran asked, a little worriedly.
"That's just it," Riley said, a flicker in his eyes, "the Amsus will push so hard to ensure that nothing happens. I will push them back, make them dread each passing day. Each day they search, they clamp down, they scrabble and scratch to try to stop it, each day they turn up nothing but more reminders of that their end is coming, it will be another day closer to ensuring that end."
Zoran sat down heavily into his command chair. "You, I think, are poet, old friend. And what date do you choose for this Putsch?"
"You should like this," Riley answered, grinning. "Seven-Fifteen..."
"We have a D-day." Zoran sounded cheerful. "I still think you are crazy, Field Marshal Riley."
"I am," Riley said with a smile.
HMS T'zaht - Dead Space - Eelim Enclave
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-SEVEN
"Okay," Katz leaned back into his bucket seat and stared at all the ships that surrounded his, weapons trained and locked on their target, "what now?"
Kyr stood behind him, hand on the back of his, chair swallowing nervously. "Well, we're not dead, and I guess that's a start."
"Our weapons are powered down," Chuck swung around in his chair, patting the console. "Our shields are lowered and we're about as harmless as a church mouse on Sunday."
"We have a chance for peaceful contact," Kyr urged, "if I just knew what to say to them."
"Please sir, don't tear us to pieces?" Katz offered.
"My mom had an expression, a wise man says more when he's silent than a fool does when he's talking." Kyr licked an incisor and called up the holographic nav computer, looking at the nine day course that tracked them to the edge of Muwani space.
"That's dangerous," Katz remarked, looking at the doctor. "They won't like knowing we have people in their space, and I don't want to show them..."
"Extend the course," Kyr suggested. "Chart it straight into Muwani territory, that buys us twenty four hours in the Aivilik system. If we show them this maybe they'll say yes and let us go..."
"It's worth a try," Chuck offered, "We're not exactly going very far at the moment, and from what I know of Eelim, they aren't very patient as a species."
"Open a communication channel," Katz said with a sigh, "and let's get this over with. No point in pissing them off further."
The screens flickered to life, displaying a bird-like lizard creature, which made a series of demands in pops and whistle-clicks. They sounded angry to Katz, but he deliberately kept his mouth shut.
Kyr kept his head down, submissive as he pointed to the holo-chart displaying the course they wanted to take.
"Please Mrs. Bird-lizard-thing," Katz wheedled, "all we want to do is nip across your back garden..."
The Eelim made a few demands, gesturing to emphasize its point as it lit up several key systems along the jump route, motioning for adjustments to avoid them.
"A counter offer," Kyr surmised, reaching out to adjust their plotted course to match the Eelim's.
The Eelim whistled and clicked a final time, and the channel was closed.
"Okay, we're still not dead." Katz looked up, checking himself to be sure. He glanced at the map. "They want us to dead jump and bypass their habitable systems."
"Given Darien's last visit," Kyr pointed out, "can you really blame them? And it shaves four days off of our trip."
Katz shrugged and crossed his legs, swinging back to prop his chin up on his hand. "Five days as guests of the Eelim..."
"Technically, this is a phenomenal breakthrough in interstellar diplomacy," Chuck noted. "Captain Katz established a successful dialogue with the Eelim."
"No," Katz corrected, "I was just about to pee myself and they smacked us till we agreed to do things their way. Doesn't sound like a dialogue to me."
Kyr excused himself, trotting back down the ladder to the main crew deck. They were going to be stuck a while in the system and he might as well grab a shower. He doffed his jacket, hanging it up on a peg outside as he fumbled with his belt, pausing when he heard something deeper in the ship.
His nose tasted the scents in the air, sniffling and twitching as it caught the faint odour of something that didn't belong. It was a suspiciously oily smell, like a bird that had recently waterproofed its feathers. And Kyr leaned back a little as he kicked off his shoes, unbuttoning his shirt, wondering who'd left something out in the galley.
The hatch to the trash sluice in the aft quarter of the ship slid shut with an audible hiss.
Kyr frowned, fishing out his glasses and slipping them on as he trotted down the hall, suspicion and curiosity getting the better of him. He paused by the armoury locker, punched in his code, and fished out a pistol, tapping the flashlight mounted to it so that it flickered on. Securing the locker dutifully behind him, he cautiously approached the trash sluice.
Tightening his grip on the pistol, Kyr glanced around, leaning in to tap the hatch control and stepping back to cover the hatch as it slid open noisily.
The trash sluice was a three meter square compartment running down all five decks of the ship to an airlock. Garbage from the ship's tour was stored there, the compactors at the bottom squishing things into a tight block of refuse that was ejected from the ship on a routinely automatic cycle. It smelled awful, a sickly sweet smell that overwhelmed Kyr's nostrils and caused him to flinch and grit his teeth.
He was at the top of the sluice, and he stepped out onto the ledge, looking at the pulley chains that assisted in the lowering of larger refuse down to the compactor below. It was dark, the lights flickering as the fluorescent bulb buzzed, and Kyr tried to peer down, reaching out to catch one of the chains. He hung suspended; shining the gun's light down the hole, trying to look down past the various level edges into the pile of refuse below.
It moved.
Kyr balked, losing his footing as he dropped the gun, his hand flying out to catch the chain as he swung precariously over the hole, staring down into the darkness.
"Katz!" Kyr called, struggling to reach the lip, his foot narrowly missing, as he tried to grab the edge with his toes, "Katz!!!"
"What?" Katz's voice was faint, from the bridge at the other end of the ship.
"Help!" Kyr bellowed. Below him there was a definite rustle, as the chain he was swinging from suddenly yanked, hard.
Katz loped down the ladder, "What have you gotten into now..."
"Help!" Kyr yelped as he struggled to climb the chain, feeling it yank again.
Katz looked down the deck and through the open hatch towards the desperate doctor, half undressed and scrabbling on a chain. The amusement on Katz's face shifted to concern as he watched the chain jerk violently.
"Hold on!" Katz commanded, racing to the edge. He yanked his pistol off of his belt and looking down into the darkness below, firing off a shot that roared in the tight space, the bullet ricocheting off the equipment below.
Kyr flung out a hand and Katz grabbed him, hauling the smaller doctor back to the safety of the deck. Katz glanced down again, trying to spot whatever was in the darkness. "What the hell is that?" he asked in surprise.
Kyr shook his head. "I don't know."
"Back," Katz commanded, hammering commands into the trash sluice controls. He sealed the inner hatches, and punched in commands to cycle the dump hatch. The alert klaxon blared. As the hatch prepared to open, a mechanical warning resounded as alert lights lit the inside of the sluice.
The hatch controls scrambled, flaring an error message as the sequence aborted. Katz offering a curse as he inputted another series of commands, sealing the inner hatches tight, sprinting back to the weapons locker and rifling through it till he came up with a shot gun.
"What's up?" Chuck asked poking his head down from the bridge.
"Something's in the sluice," Katz replied, "and it just tried to eat the doctor. I've got it penned in for the moment but I can't eject it."
"Trace sluices are reinforced," Chuck answered, coming down from above. "Whatever it is can't get out now. Did you get a look at it?"
Kyr shook his head. "Smelled like a bird..."
"Eelim or one of the Gorean bird-dogs," Katz guessed. "Whatever the hell it is, it can stay in the sluice for now. At least till we can figure out how to get it out."
Katz marched off, looking angry muttering about his luck as Kyr watched him go, feeling sad that he'd somehow been responsible for Katz's dark mood.
He turned his head and looked at the trash sluice, curiosity causing him to take a few steps forward to the glass.
He jumped back as the beaked face appeared in the small hatch window, razor sharp teeth spreading into a hungry smile as it swayed to and fro hypnotically.
Feathers of a bright colour Kyr couldn't really describe decorated it's face, soft and gentle, giving the bird-lizard a beautiful appearance and Kyr stared at it for awhile while it, in turned, stared at him.
"Don't play with it!" Katz called back down the deck, looking frustrated.
"I think it's sentient," Kyr called back, looking into intelligent eyes.
"It also tried to eat you, remember?" Katz sighed, thrusting his hands into his hoodie pockets and walked back along the length of the ship. "See the teeth?" He pointed. "Meat eater..."
"Yes," Kyr replied, "but so is a chicken, I've watched those things in a flock tear a rat apart..." he shuddered. "Vicious."
"Think chicken, on steroids," Katz responded, tapping the glass, "Hey ugly, I'm the skipper, you're a stow-away... and I like chicken!"
It purred behind the glass, lifting Kyr's gun demonstratively, awkward in its oversized hands. And Katz looked accusingly at Kyr.
"You dropped your gun?" He asked, shaking his head. "I can't believe you some times..."
"Hey now, come on," Kyr argued back. "I fell, it wasn't my fault... I'm a doctor, not some kind of super... marine, chicken hunter... type... person!"
"Whatever," Katz dismissed angrily, looking back at his prisoner. "You're stuck in there." He tapped the glass again. "gun or not, you're screwed!"
"Could you stop baiting the giant killer chicken?" Kyr asked, folding his arms. "And stop 'whatever-ing' every time I try to have an argument with you. It's really annoying."
Katz turned. "What-ever!" His eyes dared Kyr to say something.
Kyr was only too happy to oblige, "and another thing, it's called a laundry hamper, you might want to use it every once in awhile! And wearing the same pair of underpants three days in a row isn't 'lucky' it's unhygienic."
"What would you know," Katz muttered turning his head.
"Hello!" Kyr put his hands on his hips, "I'm a doctor? Or had you forgotten that mister 'I have the brain the size of a pea because I fly space ships'."
The bird-lizard hissed behind the glass, opening its broad mouth to show the rows of teeth.
"Get lost," Kyr snapped at it, looking back at Katz. "This has been coming for a while. You don't respect me!"
The bird-lizard looked offended, looking at its pistol as it pounded on the hatch.
"I do respect you," Katz answered, looking hurt. "You're probably the smartest guy I know, well maybe second smartest, Darien's pretty sharp... and then there's Elias... but he's not really a person... Anyway, you are still the smartest person I know." He shook his head. "But you're so... anal retentive about so many things, why can't you be anal retentive about giving a killer chicken your gun?"
"I didn't know what it was," Kyr replied angrily. "What, you think I just walked up to it and went, 'hey Mister Psycho-chicken-thing, have my gun?'. Do you think I'm an idiot?"
"No," Katz said, his shoulders sagging. "Just, why can't you be more careful?"
"I'm not a soldier," Kyr protested, "I shouldn't be handling a gun in the first place. I have an oath to do no harm... though I don't know if it covers that." He nodded to their guest.
"Make me an oath," Katz asked. "You have to be more careful, I don't want..."
"What?" Kyr blinked.
"Nothing," Katz said. "Just... careful, okay? And don't open this door." He pointed at the hatch.
"Again, not a complete moron," Kyr answered, watching as Katz walked away, feeling guilty again for the young pilot's mood. He sighed as he turned back to the face in the hatch window. "This is your fault, you know," he said, poking the glass.
TAC-fighter - Geldan System - Geldan Territory
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-EIGHT
The fighter was a generation ahead of anything the Excalibur had been equipped with. It was a dedicated space superiority fighter, outboard booster/missile pods sticking out from the main body of the fighter, reminiscent of an F-150. An elongated pulse cannon mounted down the centreline whispered of a sublime power that showed that the Republic of Geldan was more than adequately prepared to defend its boarders.
Darien was strapped into the second seat behind Commander Wojciech, wearing a Sino-Russian Major's uniform borrowed to allow him access to the former House Capital world. His hand rested on Ra's shard weapon, tucked into the pocket of his flight suit. He felt confident that his weaponry was up to anything he might encounter on the planet, but without the Excalibur's Propylons operational, if he found himself in trouble he was going to be stranded.
"Tell me about Geldan Seven," Darien asked, trying to relax as the fighter slipped past a collection of light corvettes that swept in a routine patrol of the system.
"Historically?" Wojciech inquired. "It was founded during the UN era, the one hundred years one hundred worlds policy. It took them nearly that long to reach Geldan; they paid a fortune to lay a beacon corridor between the core systems and this sector."
"Why?" Darien asked, leaning forward to catch a better look out of the cockpit canopy at the desolate worlds they were flying past. All of them were lit up with signs of life, domed cities stretching across the surface of the barren rocks.
"Mining," Wojciech answered, "this sector was exceptionally rich. And a Scottish consortium joined forces with the German government to found the beacon corridor. The European Union benefited from the propaganda. They had beaten the United States' record of the furthest colony, and the British Government assumed responsibility for the administration of the colony once the German government pulled its backing."
"It looks like the gamble paid off," Darien admitted settling back into his seat, "when did the VonGrippens come into it?"
Wojciech paused and, with a half sigh, continued. "The VonGrippens were one of the four founding families. And once the colony was established it was clear that the EU was going to bleed them dry of resources. Money that should have been reinvested in the colony..." The pilot angled the fighter for its approach vector on a sky tether. "Don't get me wrong, we're very proud of what the VonGrippens accomplished, both Philip and his son Alexander. But the family line was cut off when the Jump Nexus was sealed, and the people that tried to seize power after..."
"Look, Hugo," Darien sat forward, "I have no plans to reintroduce Imperial rule to Geldan..."
"Frankly, Taine," Wojciech shrugged, "I'm not a republican, and I'm not a VonGrippen so I really don't care. I agreed to get you to Geldan and get you back to the Excalibur because of what I saw in the news reports. I am a human being and, politics aside, what the Hegemony has done is wrong."
The fighter approached the orbital tether and Darien noted the overwhelming proximity of Republican military. A battlecruiser was docked to one of the hub's pylons; modern and advanced, she looked as if she would give stiff resistance to any potential threat. Only Excalibur's Zero-point bore gave her a clear advantage over the new Republican vessel.
The long range fighter slipped under the guns of the battlecruiser, sweeping in towards a support carrier that was docked alongside the powerful vessel. Heavily armoured, it resembled an armadillo to Darien, who tensed as the fighter swept down onto the landing deck, trapping on the first pass flawlessly.
Wojciech glanced back behind him as the fighter was ushered over towards the starboard plane elevator. "We won't be aboard the Kiov long. Just follow me, change into a duty uniform and we will make for the tether. Keep your head down, let me do the talking."
"No worries there," Darien replied as they descended to a hangar deck that resembled the Excalibur's. Darien offered a smile at how well his ship's design stood up to modern standards. Little had changed in naval architecture, and that offered him some hope at pulling off his clandestine mission. He had no doubts that if they caught him they'd brand him as a spy, though. He also wished he'd heeded the Fida'i's advice that he take one of them along. However, there had been no way to smuggle two people aboard the small two-seater fighter and Darien had elected to undertake the mission alone, knowing the risk he was taking.
Down on the deck, Darien mimicked Wojciech's actions as he followed him into the pilots' lockers, pulling off the sweaty flight suit and changing into the Major's uniform. He smiled at the familiar saffron yellow uniform shirt that he'd grown so used to wearing aboard the Excalibur. He stepped into the flared brown riding trousers and knee high boots before donning his tunic and tying his tie effortlessly.
He tucked the shard weapon onto his belt and closed the uniform all-weather jacket over the top of it, tucking the high peaked cap onto his head and tilting it in exactly the way he had done wearing one for TER-SEC. He felt the part.
Wojciech was watching him pull on his boots, a contemplative look on the young Commander's face. "Who were you before the war?" he asked, keeping his voice low so that it wouldn't be overheard by the other pilots showering a few feet away.
"A police officer," Darien replied honestly straightening up and sliding his TAC-link into a pocket. "I'm ready."
Wojciech looked at Darien for a long moment and shook his head. "Probably not. Geldan isn't a particularly pleasant place. Socialism isn't... the same as your Empire. Freedom is difficult to attain, and life is hard there. Just don't interfere, da?"
"You don't know the Amsus very well," Darien remarked dryly, but he still wondered at the warning as he followed the Commander through the carrier, saluting whenever Wojciech saluted. The pair marched down and through the large, reinforced hatches into the tether hub. Darien paused, realizing that he'd never seen an orbital tether before; a transit train that connected the planets surface to orbit with a high speed maglev.
They passed through the outer ports, taking a pair of bucket seats close to the windows, strapping themselves in accordingly. The trill was the only warning they had as other passengers quickly scrambled to buckle in, before there was a dull clunk and the sensation of freefall.
Darien looked up towards the window; out beyond the planet far below at the dull red sun that blazed fiercely defiant. Darien wondered if that red sun was the same one that the black falcon descended across on the Falcon banner. He was headed for the high seat of House VonGrippen, the birth place of the houses, and the birth place of the man who had guided Darien with an invisible hand for so many years.
The small maglev descended at a phenomenal rate, heat shields engaging to protect it from re-entry as it plummeted downwards. Things began to swim unnaturally before Darien's eyes. Re-entry was supposed to be a soft, gentle glide on engines with controls beneath his hands. It felt strangely disorienting to him as he gripped the straps, and his teeth beginning to rattle as the maglev vibrated.
The cab began to decelerate, firing thrusters to cut its downwards momentum, and Darien forced his eyes open again. He looked at the dark clouds that they were buffeted through, breaking clear over foggy ground below. His first glimpse of Geldan was of rolling hills and a city of high spires tucked into the lee of hills. It was grey and bleak, even the skimmers flitting through the sky appeared drab. He stared vacantly for a long while as the cab came to a rest sliding gently into the lower tether station below.
Wojciech was up first, looking uncomfortably around him as he zipped up his coat and motioning for Darien to follow him. The pair set out into the drab halls of the tether station, weaving their way through the crowds of drab people with expressionless faces. All so boring, mild and tame...
There were police officers and security officials everywhere checking papers. They ignored the two military officers, though the uniform was identity enough on a world where the nearest enemy had to transit thousands of light years of dead space just to reach them. Their worry lay in the civilian population, in the insurgents that lurked within the bland faces.
Marching in perfect formation, soldiers ascended the steps to the tether station, ignoring the two pilots as they made their way inside. Darien could identify VonGrippen unit insignia's on their uniforms, but instead of the striking falcons, a black triangle pierced a circle of red, a bastardization of the past. Progress.
They clambered aboard a street car, Darien sitting silent as he stared across at Wojciech, trying to read the other man's face. He tried to work out what was going on behind his soft brown eyes and his socialist upbringing. What was the secret that had induced him to help the Imperials? Especially given how stringent life was upon Geldan.
Wojciech's eyes softened as if he understood what Darien was thinking, reaching out a hand to clap down on Darien's knee twice, reassuringly, and offering a vague hint of a smile as he nodded out of the window. They were sweeping around a large roundabout; the square in the middle held a low column with a bronze statue of Alexander VonGrippen dressed in his great coat looking heroic, surrounded by Republican flags and an honour guard. Darien blinked.
What would happen three hundred years after his death? Would he be immortalized in bronze, his opinions and struggles forgotten as a new government tried to lay claim to a past hero as their patron? He rubbed his jaw tiredly, realizing that there was nothing he could do about the future, that he merely had to exist in the moment and pray that his example would last.
"Come," Wojciech directed, catching Darien's arm as they got off at the next stop, far up into the hills overlooking the city, a broad road leading up to large gates standing open as a grey mist plastered them with a light drizzle.
"The governor's residence," Wojciech announced as they began up the gravel pathway, shale crunching beneath their boots. "After the revolution it was opened to the public, and Party headquarters was established in the national assembly down in the city proper." He turned off the driveway and began to climb a side path through a collection of sycamore trees. "Beautiful, isn't it?"
Darien paused, resting a hand on a balustrade, looking down the path between the trees over the rock garden that spilled out and down the tiered gardens and over the grass lawns towards the ancient stone house. The flag flying was the red Scottish lion, a proud testament to the house's history as well as the family that had owned it. Darien stood dumbstruck for awhile; it was the house that Edward had called home, the same house that VonGrippen had retreated to in his moments of weakness.
It seemed surreal to be there, and Darien felt compelled to walk that path, winding between the trees. "Why?" he asked, glancing at Wojciech.
"Because not everything on Geldan is bleak," Wojciech answered, gesturing towards a moss-covered cenotaph standing off to the side of the path. "VonGrippen lost his wife about six years before the fall of the Empire. It's rumoured her spirit walks this path, watching the heavens for him to return to her."
He sat down on the steps of the cenotaph and looked up at Darien. "I always thought it one of the great love stories... tragic, like Romeo and Juliet."
Darien paused, sinking his hands into his pockets. "I can think of a few others. Lauren and Kendrick for example..."
"Who?" Wojciech asked uncertainly.
"Crewmates," Darien responded, sitting down beside the commander and looking across at him. "They committed suicide together on the Arcanis moon. Years ago now."
"War weary," Wojciech observed, fishing through his pockets and producing a flask, handing it over to Darien. "Vodka, will keep you warm."
Darien accepted it and took a draught, sighing into the brisk flavour that warmed his insides in a rush, then handing the flask back to the Commander. "What are you thinking, Hugo?" he asked, looking at Wojciech carefully.
"It's funny," Wojciech said after a pause, "I grew up on a farm, a rural colony close to Eyre. My father decided to move us there when I was very little. He had never been someone to keep his opinions to himself; that cost him time in prison on a couple of occasions." The Commander chuckled, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's no real secret, we all know that the Party keeps tight control over all information. All we hear about are the wonders of socialism -yet another five year plan target succeeded, yet another delegation of fellow socialist colonial neighbours visiting another socialist colony. We don't hear about anything outside, no speculation, nothing. So you can forgive my desire to actually know what's going on outside this world..."
"I understand," Darien said, nodding. "It was the same on Earth, under the Hegemony."
"Da." Wojciech smiled tightly, fishing out a cigarette and lighting it. "Finally you show up, give me a glimpse of the outside and," he puffed on his cigarette, "it's just as bad as in here. Except for one thing, you're free."
"I wonder at that at times," Darien admitted. "Three years and you know what I miss the most?"
"Vodka?" Wojciech offered.
"Football," Darien smiled, "and pizza."
Wojciech smiled brightly. "I am no insurgent, Warlord Taine, I just do not agree with my government. I am helping you because there is something you can do for me."
Darien tensed. "I'm not going to be responsible for another revolution..."
"No, no," Wojciech replied. "I am twenty five next week, and I don't want to be stranded here. I would like asylum with your government."
Darien looked thoughtful. "Defection is a messy topic, but I'll take you with us if you're serious about leaving all this."
Wojciech nodded in satisfaction, slipping the flask away into his pocket and standing up. "We have a few hours before it gets dark, and we can get you access to VonGrippen's library in the house. The grounds here are considered one of the most beautiful parks on the planet. And the Kaynin population go to great lengths to maintain it."
"There are Kaynin here on Geldan?" Darien asked in surprise.
"Oh yes..." Wojciech began as the pair of soldiers worked their way through the light forest around the ancient hall.
HMS Gladius of Michael - Skyella Nebula - Imperial Territory
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-EIGHT
Rikard was unimpressed; the devastation wrought aboard the Gladius was horrific. Templar who hadn't been cooked alive by radiation from the nebula's detonation had died horrific deaths through decompression or suffocation.
Amsus soldiers in EVAC gear worked to bring the ships crippled computers operational, rigging in a portable network router that would connect the Lex Talionis to the Gladius computer core. Rikard stood back observing the work with Lieutenant Galadriel standing silently at his side. They hadn't spoken in days. Rikard smiled; he needed her angry.
"Before he comes online," Rikard said, nodding to the black box the Amsus were working into the ships systems, "I need you to do something for me."
"Go to hell," Galadriel snapped.
"You can demonize me later," Rikard replied, smiling through the visor of his helmet, "but for now shut up and listen to me."
Galadriel set her jaw, turning to look at Rikard, her eyes blazing in anger.
Rikard gauged her anger, nodding to himself as he pointed back down the connecting corridor of the cruiser's bridge. "The main armoury is three decks down. The nebula will block Lex from monitoring you if you hurry. There is a device called an EMP Coil... it is about the size of your backpack. Get it for me."
"Why?" Galadriel demanded. "Why do you need nuclear demolition munitions?"
Rikard folded his arms. "If I need to explain that, then you aren't as bright as I gave you credit for. Get the weapon quickly, before our jailor comes online and cuts off our only opportunity to free ourselves."
Galadriel hesitated, staring into his eyes, searching for some reason to believe in him, and Rikard hoped she was bright enough to work things out on her own. He nodded towards the corridor, watching her glance around, before she hurried off. Rikard nodding as he leaned over the Captain's console beside the command chair, calling up files and trying to find what Lex was searching for before the computer could connect and take it.
The flickering of the CIC table spluttered to life as Rikard cursed the need for gloves as he fumbled with the keyboard, glancing up as a flash of light indicated the approach of one of Lex's drones. No doubt the AI was growing impatient.
"No you don't," Rikard said to the drone, stretching out with a thought to activate the emergency blast shield, slamming it into place, the accordion steel sheets sliding to encase the observation dome protectively. The beeping from his TAC-link indicated that Lex wasn't too pleased that his ring side view had been blocked.
Rikard lifted the link, plugging it into a display and allowing the fluctuating image to waver to life over the console. "That was rude," Rikard observed, continuing to work on the computer.
"Where is Lieutenant Galadriel?" Lex demanded.
"In the computer core trying to replace burned out circuitry or something." Rikard looked up and sighed. "Patience is a virtue, one you would do well to learn."
"Silence Rikard," Lex ordered, "what are you accessing?"
"Course data," Rikard replied, "comparing it with the respective dates..."
The hologram turned on his holopod, his expression becoming contemplative as he walked. The clothes he wore shimmering and changing to Kardiac's formal uniform, and for a moment Rikard frowned, then began to feel apprehensive. Lex suspected something.
"You take me for a fool, Enarbrem," Lex commented idly. "You think that because you are away from my ship you are out of my control." He paused, looking at Rikard evenly. "I've decided to show you something to restore your faith in life..."
"I doubt even you could do that," Rikard responded tiredly. "I am fed up with your games..."
Lex tilted his head. "Oh, I don't think of this as a game. Kardiac often had to give demonstrations of his will, proof that God doesn't falter."
The Gladius's screen resolved to show Lieutenant Galadriel in the arsenal; a security feed from the internal monitors. And Rikard started.
"You have control of the computer..." he concluded, looking up at the camera that was buzzing lightly over his head.
"I secured the computer before you were permitted aboard," Lex answered simply, panning the camera around to show the Mech Rikard had dubbed Johnny approaching between the racks of missiles. "I also made sure to have the capacity to defend myself from betrayal."
"If you think I care," Rikard said shortly, his fist tightening into a ball at his side, "you are wholly mistaken."
"I don't expect you to care... yet," Lex remarked, pacing the computer-top as screens around the bridge flared to life with his visage. "However, I said this was a demonstration to restore your faith in life. I am going to make you care."
Rikard cast the keyboard across the bridge, rising to his full height. "If you think you control me, you're mistaken, I'll tear you apart..."
Lex smiled. "Anger is a good first step, Enarbrem. It feels good to feel something, doesn't it?" he purred as he leaned forward on the screen. "Something is stirring in that cold, dead heart of yours. For the first time in three hundred years..." On the security monitor Johnny moved closer, but Galadriel must have heard something. She tensed and Rikard felt a momentary elation, perhaps she could...
Johnny struck out, launching himself from the shadows as Galadriel swept him aside, tossing the heavy mech across the deck as she crouched in a ready stance.
"Joy," Lex observed. "A fluttering of hope."
Johnny sprang again, this time prepared for her counter, the two grappling; the mech's enhanced strength giving it an edge as it backhanded Galadriel across the floor. It advanced again as Rikard reached out to grip the edge of his console.
"Fear..." Lex continued his commentary on Rikard's emotions. "You see how easy it is to teach you about the complexity of human emotion?"
"I will not be played by you," Rikard bit out, turning away, "I am beyond such things..."
"Denial," Lex whispered. "You aren't beyond that, are you?"
Rikard glanced across the bridge to the log computer, reaching out with his thoughts and shattering the casing, tearing the hard drive out forcibly. The small flat box skimmed across the deck to float in his hand as he turned back to Lex. "Stop this!"
Lex paused; amusement on his face, as on the screen Johnny continued his attack, Galadriel slumped against a rack of missiles as Rikard stared at it his hand.
"Bargaining?" Lex inquired. "Desperation doesn't suit you, Enarbrem. I already have the course data."
Rikard cast the hard drive across the deck, allowing it to clatter uselessly against a far bulkhead. "Then what do you want?" he asked, his shoulders sagging and defeat on his face.
"Beg," Lex smirked.
"What?" Rikard frowned, torn between Lex's image and the image of Johnny picking up a crowbar, advancing on the fallen woman with the intention of finishing her.
"Beg," Lex repeated, "acknowledge that you don't want me to do this... thing. Beg for the one thing that actually means something to you."
Rikard ran a hand through his hair. "Stop this."
"Say it!" Lex bellowed, as Johnny landed the first blow with the crowbar.
"No!" Rikard screamed in fury, "I won't!"
The crowbar lifted again.
"Say it!" Lex's features twisted in anger.
"No!" Rikard straightened up, "I will not!"
The second blow fell.
"Now!" Lex hissed.
The crowbar rose again, blood dripping off its tip.
Rikard felt a cold, calm resignation wavering through him, and he seemed unaware of anything around him as he stared at the hologram. "Please..." his voice was hoarse, a single choked out word that held the only hope of saving her life.
"There." Lex smiled as the security monitor showed Johnny tossing aside the crowbar, walking away. "That is what it means to be human. To be powerless. To fear death. Welcome back to your own mortality."