There are three ways to win any battle,
Absolute Victory
Moral Victory
And the commonest type:
a Pyrrhic Victory.
POW Camp - Karin - Gorean Occupied Territory
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-EIGHT
Masconi swept the camp with her binoculars, noting the guard towers, the patrolling Gorean and, behind them, the shadow of the craggy mountain that held the city of Karin aloft in the sky.
All their searching, all their marching, and it led them back to where it had all began. The mountain fortress, the city with its air raid sirens reeling as her F-120 orcas performed bombing raids on Gorean emplacements inside the city.
The battle for Karin was over; the ITEs moving on the city had allowed Mayfair's artillery pieces to close in range of the city. The Gorean lines were crumbling; Mayfair had linked up with other elements of the Karin army to drive them back.
"I have a Taïrian," Grogen commented, sitting beside her on the ridge and puffing on his cigarette as he swept his VLR over the camp. "Building in grid A-9."
Masconi swung her binoculars to the building, a wave of relief passing through her, "Shale!" She adjusted her binoculars, zooming in on the battered human the Captain was sheltering.
There was a lump, it started in her throat, shifting up to her eyes as she felt the wave of emotions flooding into her. Tears, unbidden, rushed into her eyes, spilling down her cheeks.
"Allie," she confirmed, her voice hitching.
"Jeezus," Grogen exclaimed. "That psycho son of a bitch... A-10."
Masconi swung her glasses, blinking at the shadow as James vanished around the back of the building and disappeared from sight.
"If we saw him, he needs our help," Masconi answered, searching the grid around the assassin. "Two guards, in the tower..."
Grogen nodded, "I see them. Weapons free, ma'am?"
"Kill the bastards," Masconi answered coldly.
* * *
Shale smelled blood. He bared his teeth as he looked up towards the guard tower above him, pushing Alessandro behind him and backing towards the building. There was something wrong, and his eyes caught the flash. A VLR; someone was shooting the guards.
The guard on the ground hadn't noticed anything, yelling orders to his men as the distant sound of fighting drew closer.
He wasn't prepared for the shadow to kill him. The Fida'i struck from the shadows, sliding a poisoned blade between its scales then sweeping around to sever its tendons. The blades came up and then down again, dissecting the Gorean guard's limbs.
Simply, and silently, the Gorean died.
James turned, looking around the startled prisoners, eyeing the Taïrian Captain and bowing his head. "I have come for you," he said, dropping and spinning as a second Gorean guard charged him. He rolled between its legs and bounded up its back, driving one of his blades point down into its skull. It dropped neatly to the mud.
Shale flattened his ears, scooping up the plasma rifle the guard had dropped. A third guard was neatly dispatched by the VLR before it could sound an alarm.
Alessandro staggered; he tried to catch himself with his other arm before he hit the ground. As soon as his fingers touched the dirt floor, he cried out again and brought his hand up close to his chest, letting himself fall the rest of the way. He sat like that for several moments, his knees tucked up under him and his shoulders and face resting on the ground. He panted hard, obviously in pain, but didn't otherwise move.
Shale leaned down, scooping the boy up, as other prisoners relieved the fallen guards of their weapons. The riot began to spread as the Gorean realized they were under attack.
"We leave," James pointed away from the fight.
Shale's look silenced that thought and James shrugged, looking towards where the prisoners were wrestling with the gate, Gorean on the far side trying to contain them. Plasma fire burst out on both sides.
The assassin nodded his head in agreement, running for the fence. He hit the edge of a trough, propelling himself up to a window sill and across to the roof of the barracks opposite. Sprinting along the shingles, he spun in the air, end over end, to land on the far side of the fence, tilting a slight wave at the shocked Gorean who hadn't expected a human to be so agile. Some of them broke off their attempt to hold the gate to chase after him.
Shale set Alessandro down, his anger bubbling as he marched towards the gate, shots thwupping out about him. A Gorean that lifted his rifle suddenly died, his head caving in with another sniper shot.
The Taïrian hit the gate with his full force, muscles bulging as he threw his weight into the push, driving the Gorean back, the gate shifting open a little.
Shale gritted his teeth, his feet pushing forward, as the Gorean on the far side slid back, humans spilling about the Taïrian, slipping through the gates to attack their captors. A chance to finally, finally fight back and they had seized it.
VonGrippen Manor - Geldan VII - Republic Territory
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-EIGHT
Darien stood at the desk, leafing through papers that had been ordered and catalogued in a way that showed the Republicans had long ago sifted through them looking for anything of relevance. Fortunately, they hadn't thought to go through the books.
The study was lined with hundreds of them, and while he worked his way through those, Commander Wojciech was in the library searching there as well.
Darien had discarded his tunic and tie, standing in shirt sleeves, his glasses on as he cross referenced VonGrippen's notes with the books on the shelves. He pulled down a fat and heavy tome and placed it on the desk, flipping it open and running through the text.
"I have some books on Gorean legends," Wojciech offered, entering the study and setting them down as he sat behind the desk and began to read. "There's one here that makes mention of a dark one, a sort of devil creature that lurked within a pool of time."
"Right," Darien mused, looking up, "so this Gorean god is like the devil?"
"Not from what I am reading," Wojciech answered. "More a traveller that came and almost brought ruin to a number of Gorean. It makes mention of gifts that brought only suffering."
"Sounds familiar," Darien said turning a book about that he was reading, "Z'ræl... some enemies of ours are searching for the shrine of a Z'ræl."
"Well the Gorean weren't fond of him," Wojciech glanced at the book Darien was reading. "They say that he literally unravelled time around one of their planets, the legend says that time came apart, that one brood brother aged while another did not."
"What was the planet called?" Darien asked curiously.
"Krasnïer," Wojciech answered. "It says that the dark one burned upon a pyre of time there."
"Well then, we have a start at least." Darien took his book back, closing it as he glanced about the shelves. He stopped as he spied another volume marked on the back with a winged sword emblem, pulling it down.
"What is it?" Wojciech inquired, noting the expression on Darien's face.
"Another mystery of mine," Darien remarked, tapping the spine of the book. He opened it and leafed through the pages, noting that VonGrippen had written extensively in the margins, translating sigils and diagramming rotations.
Darien blinked, turning pages and examining them closer; a translation of Peligian script, it wasn't a lot but it was a start. And the way VonGrippen was making notes it was obvious he had been able to read the language, which meant that he had been able to translate the information located on Aivilik. If he could translate the information then it stood to reason that the key to Peligia lay in translating something at the Aivilik site.
"That symbol," Wojciech pointed, now standing over Darien's shoulder, "it resembles something here." He lifted his book on the Gorean dark one. "Here, see?"
"Time's sword," Darien read, looking over the diagram that displayed a pyre. An artists rendition of the scene at the death of Z'ræl, it was drawn in a distinctive style using upstrokes of a broad-tipped brush. The brush strokes faded into drawn out lines, giving the appearance that someone had soaked the image in water. But there was no doubting the symbol was the same.
"Why would Z'ræl's death be depicted with Peligian script in a Gorean text?" Wojciech asked.
"I don't know," Darien said closing both books and tucking them under his arm, "but we should..."
Wojciech held up a finger. "Something's out there." He nodded to the lead-lined windows.
Darien drew his shard weapon and doused the study lights, while Wojciech drew his own service pistol, both men watching the red flickering lights from outside getting closer to the house. "Police," Wojciech supplied.
Darien nodded his head as he slipped closer to the window, glancing outside, "Seems to be. They don't look friendly at any rate." He watched the aerial skimmer swinging in for a landing on the lawn as the two cruisers pulled up the drive, spilling officers out into the night.
Darien thought quickly; there was only a small hope which he'd planned to keep in reserve. But if the socialists were half as bad as Wojciech had made out, then he was probably left with no choice. He tugged out his TAC-link and opened it.
"Falcon-one to COM-SAT-ONE." He glanced at Wojciech who was eyeing him curiously.
"Affirmative, Falcon-one, Comm-flight reads you," came the reply of the dropship sitting on the far edge of the Geldan system, "EX reports nominal on Gate-system, and we have nominal on recovery beacon."
Darien pulled out a pair of recallers. He slipped one around his neck and slapped it, transmitting the recovery signal. He tossed the second to Wojciech.
"What's this?" Wojciech asked, catching the small black device coated in rubber, looking at it curiously.
"My insurance policy," Darien replied, scooping up the books he needed and standing easily. "I have learned a couple of things about going planetside never give up my gun, and always make sure I have a way out..."
There was the usual transition effect, and then the pair of officers re-appeared in the partially reconstructed Propylon chamber. Lieutenant Kyles was operating the controls, and he bowed his head.
"Welcome home, Warlord Taine," he said in greeting. "I'm pleased to report the first calibration of the Propylons seems to be a success."
"Then we're back in business," Darien replied, trying not to look rattled by the fact that he'd literally had to gamble his life to test them. "We have what we came for, how long until we can perform a far jump... we have some crew members to recover."
Kyles shrugged, "A few more days to reconfigure the main crystals and write the sub-routines we need. Even so, I can't guarantee how stable this system is... still."
Darien paused as he looked at Commander Wojciech. "You're welcome to stay aboard if you wish, Commander. I owe you some thanks."
HMS Lex Talionis - Skyella Nebula - Imperial Territory
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-EIGHT
He stood at her bedside in the nightmarishly macabre setting of the Lex Talionis's medical bay. He looked down at her battered body, resting his hand on her delicate shoulder, wishing that he could use a little of his power to heal her wounds.
One eye fluttered open, the respirator in her mouth waggling as she started in surprise at where she was.
"Shh," Rikard urged, brushing her face with his hand, a hitch in his voice. You're all right, you are being treated... I'm sorry."
Galadriel wriggled, a pained look on her face as she locked her eyes onto his.
"I know it hurts," Rikard replied, shaking his head. "I can't stop it, but I've treated you as best I could."
He balked at the look of fear in her eyes and shook his head. "Don't worry, I used to be quite a good doctor, back before..." He looked about him, shaking his head again. "I've repaired much of the damage. But you have to rest; you'll be okay if you just rest."
Galadriel sank back into her pillows, breathing through the machine, which beeped and trilled as it pumped air into and out of her lungs.
"The EMP coil," Rikard pressed, "did you find it?"
She blinked, turning her head towards her clothes piled on the chair, a backpack sitting discarded beside it.
Rikard nodded, "I'm proud of you." He again rested his fingers on her face, "You should rest now..."
"Rikard," Lex's voice cut through the sickbay over the 1MC system, "come to the bridge."
"What is it?" Rikard demanded, marching onto the bridge of the battleship as its great prow nosed its way out of the edge of the dark green nebula cloud.
Lex appeared contemplative up by the windows, his tactical scopes active and tracking. "I am detecting an Imperial patrol on my long range scopes; they have detected me in return and are requesting orders."
"This presents a problem how?" Rikard demanded, "Destroy the ships and be done with it."
"I could," Lex responded, "they are a pair of corvettes on a recon patrol. However, they are House Kardiac vessels."
"Suddenly squeamish about killing your own kind?" Rikard sneered. "That isn't like you."
"Indeed. However, I am monitoring a FTL communication from Warlord Taine. He is attempting to communicate with an Expedition Two that is in search of your precious Peligia." Lex turned, his eyes glittering, "I thought you might care to eavesdrop."
"You're using the patrol to hack into the Imperial's FTL network?" Rikard asked. "From this distance? I am impressed, that's quite a feat even for you."
"I have some uses, and since you delivered me the Gladius computer files, I feel it is only fair that I return the favour with something you desire." Lex motioned to the CIC table, which flared with a pair of images; both ends of the FTL communication projected at once. Rikard smiled at once, recognizing Darien in some god awful yellow shirt talking to Commander Durnham.
"... and it contains references for the Peligian language." Darien held up a book.
"Excellent, Doctor Casey has made some progress," the hologram of the holographic commander replied. "We've managed to get partial power to the Propylon chamber."
"Propylons." Rikard looked over at Lex, who had suddenly stood upright as well at the mention of the ancient devices.
"Good," Darien replied. "We're at partial operational capacity with our own, any information you can glean from the second set would be crucial in getting us up to full operational readiness."
"The translations should help, Warlord," Durnham answered, removing his glasses and taking his time examining them. "Captain Hansen has withdrawn us into the barrow, and so far we have evaded Eelim detection. Their patrols are infrequent this close to Muwani territory, however I fear we are running short on supplies."
"We're inbound; Lieutenant Kyles predicts a few days till we have operational readiness on the Propylons." Darien set the first book down, a moment later reappearing with a second book in his hands. "I want you to tell Doctor Murphy to cross reference any information he has found there with something called the Sword of Time..."
Lex hissed sharply, and Rikard turned his head. "What?"
"I am triangulating the source of Commander Durnham's signal," Lex replied. Monitors around the bridge began tracking the communication nodes and star charts sprang to life as they began to zero in on the co-ordinates.
"I will tell him," Commander Durnham responded, "though Doctor Casey has managed to translate some of the text on her own. It makes no mention of the Sword of Time, but she does feel that she has a partial description of the Peligian homeworld..."
"The homeworld is gone," Rikard scoffed, "blown away by the Polians aeons ago..."
"She said it was adrift in an ocean of air." Durnham shrugged. "She thinks this metaphor was the source of the winged insignia..."
Darien looked puzzled, then looked surprised, and Rikard froze.
"He knows the location of Peligia!" he said, taking a step forward, leaning in to study the face of his nemesis. "He knows it... he's been there!"
"That is a secondary concern," Lex answered, "I have computed the location of the outbound signal. We will reach there in five days if I push the Polian far step drives."
"Push them!" Rikard snapped, a victorious smile dancing across his face, "We're close to the end now," he whispered, smiling a ghostly smile.
LC-900 - Skyella Nebula - Imperial Territory
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-EIGHT
"The Lex Talionis is powering its far step drives," the Amsus first officer reported. "It doesn't see us."
"I trust you are correct," The ships commander replied as the light cruiser drifted, powered down, on the edge of the nebula, using its passive scanning devices to gain an idea of what the rogue pocket battleship was doing so close to Tempus.
They were using the twin corvettes were decoys, ignoring them as they hammered away noisily as they circumnavigated the nebula, keeping the heavy battleship's attention while the light cruiser drifted amongst the debris. It's sensor suite salvaged from the Skyella Nebula was fine tuned and as comprehensive as the Amsus could muster. The ship had been specially equipped with allied Polian technology and designed to track far-stepping vessels.
"We are within the tracking envelope," the first officer reported, "As soon as they jump we will have the destinations co-ordinates."
The Commander sat impassive; he'd been designed to be emotionless in moments such as those. He'd accomplished his task, and he wasn't worried about the Imperial ships rushing towards him. They'd put up a fight, and probably win. But not before he successfully transmitted the data he needed to the 'Wolf-Pack'.
As the Lex Talionis jumped, the Light Cruiser's systems went live, tracking and computing the data. The ship's computers encrypted it heavily and fired a simultaneous micro-burst back along the Amsus FTL network, feeding co-ordinates along with the digital recordings of the battleship back to headquarters.
"Prepare action stations," The Commander snapped. "Turn to engage the Imperial warships."
Communications Node - Outpost A-IX - Amsus Territory
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-EIGHT
Duncan rolled the cane between his thumb and forefinger, the details of the micro-burst on the screens about him. "Are my ships in position?" he inquired, looking up.
Strega nodded. "They are at the Polian contraption, though I don't know what you plan to do; you won't be able to intercept the Lex Talionis."
Duncan held up a finger and stopped spinning his cane. "I don't intend to. Order the Carriers into the Catapult and launch as soon as they are in position."
"They'll all be scattered over a light year from their target," Strega insisted. "The Polian device is unreliable."
"Strega," Duncan said, banging his cane down on the table between them, choosing his words with deliberate care. "This is my operation. You have yet to actually confirm Riley's death, or even locate the missing Imperial fleet. I suggest you focus on your task and allow me to worry about mine." He stood stiffly, limping heavily down the steps away from the table they had been sitting at. "Order my Wolf Pack to go."
"It will take six days for them to arrive on station," Strega sniffed. "I hope you haven't wasted our time Duncan... if they miss their target it will take months for them to return to Hegemony territory."
"I am aware of that," Duncan answered, "but they will arrive with plenty of time, and then that battleship will be mine. And considering the fact that you've lost the Imperial fleet, our bet will be mine as well."
Far step Catapult - Yirin System - Former Polian Alliance
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-EIGHT
The four carriers swept in perfect formation into position between the Polian devices, vaguely reminiscent of a massive rail cannon array. An early design for the jump nexus, it was designed to propel ships unable to attain hyperspace the massive distances towards the far reaches of the Alliance.
With the collapse of the Polian Alliance after the fall of Arcanis, the device had fallen into the hands of the Alliance's new keepers. The Hegemony, having already rushed ships in to secure the territory and tributary worlds of their former Polian allies, were more than happy to exploit the benefits of the abandoned Polian technology.
There was a rush of light along the length of the device as the first carrier was accelerated at immense speeds, rocketing through the darkness as it hurtled into hyperspace.
BC-001 - Germany - Amsus Occupied Earth
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-EIGHT
The explosion rocked through the grounds of the starport, shattering windows on the glass structure. The second explosion took out one of the terminals.
Sephradon rose from her bed, the fire lighting the night sky through the windows of her stateroom. She stood there in her nightdress, watching other explosions turn the tranquillity of the night into a firestorm.
She stared at it, watching the flames licking up from the terminal as her Amsus troopers rushed about the field, trying to fight the fire. A fire engine rushed around and into the floodlights, its siren wailing.
Her eyes tightened at the 7:15 spray painted on the side of the building.
"Riley..." she bit out.
Communications Node - Outpost A-IX - Amsus Territory
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-EIGHT
Strega sweated; the boards around her were breaking out into pandemonium.
"The Hegemony Embassy in San Francisco reports that a probe jumped over the city and began scattering leaflets with the numbers Seven-Fifteen..."
"Reports are in from Moscow..." called out a second GN-2.
Calls of "Edinburgh..." "Toronto..." "Beijing..." echoed around the communications node command centre.
"What the hell is he doing?" Strega asked, thumping her hand down on the situation table.
"Seven Fifteen could be a chapter and verse from a religious text," offered Aleš. "The Templar's Edict verse seven, chapter fifteen read 'any and all who opposed his will were wiped out with a single stroke of his sword'."
"The Immortal Emperor," Strega agreed, "VonGrippen was often called the Emperor's sword."
"It's a timetable," Duncan again broke over the confused calls, his cool tones holding none of the panic of the others. "Seven-Fifteen is July fifteenth: Ascension Day."
"What happens on July fifteenth?" Aleš asked worriedly.
"D-day," Duncan said, calmly limping forward.
"What do you know?" Strega sneered over at him.
"Again with the 'what do you know'." Duncan twirled his cane once through his fingers, slamming it down with a sharp rap on the floor. "I know a challenge when I hear one. Field Marshall Riley is issuing an ultimatum."
"It's foolish," Strega said dismissively. "I won't be baited by him."
"He doesn't even know you exist," Duncan lectured her, pushing his hair back away from his eyes. "Typical arrogant female insecurities, everything's always about you, isn't it?"
"Shut up," Strega shot back.
"No, no," Duncan said evenly. "I'll humour your ego by making this all about you. Let me see, you took a brilliant resistance mind and you forced him to go to ground. You took him out of a battlefield where our superior numbers gave us an edge and forced him to fight the kind of war that he is a master of. And you still don't know where he is."
Strega glared at him. "Who is the challenge to?"
"I have an incoming transmission from Sephradon," another of the GN-2's called back.
"Oh," Duncan tilted his head, "I wonder..."
POW Camp - Karin - Gorean Occupied Territory
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-EIGHT
The Jeep rolled into the camp, Masconi jumping down and taking in the devastation. Prisoners were smashing or breaking anything that reminded them of the occupation.
A Gorean corpse had been hoisted above a group chanting an old Karin drinking song as they jiggled it up and down triumphantly. Masconi could understand it; after months of torment, torture, and pain, the end was in sight.
She pushed her way through the crowds, Grogen a step or two behind her, arriving at the barracks. She paused at the sight of Shale bandaging his plasma burned arm.
James was sitting on a rail looking nonplussed at all the fuss around him, turning the Gorean blade in his hands as he watched Masconi, a slight smile dancing on his lips as he pointed into the barracks.
Masconi slung her DT-09, rushing up the steps and inside the building, pausing at the foot of the bed, her heart leaping as she saw him. She dropped to her knees and resting her hand on his beautiful face. "Allie..."
He opened an eye, smiling at her weakly. "I am dead, no?" he asked lightly.
"No," Masconi said, brushing his hair back, "I'm here."
Alessandro nodded, "I told them nothing," he swore, "nothing, Angelina..."
"I know Allie," she replied, brushing his face, not trying to hide the tears flowing down her face. "You're the future Highlord Kardiac, you're too strong for that."
"The Colonel's arrived," Grogen called from the doorway. "Riding in a tank like a bloody hero. Late as usual."
Masconi looked back at him. "Tell him I'll report for duty soon... I just..."
"I know," Grogen replied. "No worries, when you're ready."
Upper platform - Karin Fortress - Gorean Occupied Territory
OCCUPATION: DAY ONE-SIXTY-EIGHT
The Justicar led the group as they marched through the fortress, moving towards the landing platform. The Gorean soldiers protected the flanks of the great black Gorean that easily filled the vaulted corridor, the smaller white trotting just ahead of him. They followed a group of her monks bearing the body of the young God Emperor of Man ahead of them, His Watchful Eye's insurance.
"Preparations have been made, Your Eminence." The Paddesh moved down the corridor to greet them. "The ship is in orbit, ready to convey you back to Imperius..."
"It is time to leave," His Watchful Eye intoned, looking down at the seeress.
"It was time to leave long before this," she answered him, leaning on her staff. "If we remain longer, I predict dire consequences. Sal-zÿr will taste his defeat here... and doom us all with it."
"You worry too much," Petrov answered her as they walked out onto the high platform. The wind whipped the heavy robes the Justicar wore as the demi-wyrm pulled out the Portkey and prepared the device for their evacuation.
Around the city, battle raged, fliers duelled for the skies, detonating as the EV-IIs and F-150s overwhelmed them and crashing into the burning towers of the city.
"The gamble was worth the cost," His Watchful Eye mused. "I am satisfied."
"That he is the Pax?" the seeress asked looking at the body.
"He isn't the Pax, but he is his heir, and he will prove that, in time," Petrov answered her. "No I'm satisfied, that these humans are ready for the battle to come." He raised his claw pointing, at the Justicar. "I wish to leave."
"Wait!" a human yelled, running from the fortress. With his tattered suit and his unkempt appearance, Chancellor Evans looked desperate. "You can't just leave..."
"Your master has abandoned you." The seeress turned, warding him back with her staff. "Where is Rikard now?"
Evans looked down at the city, then across at His Watchful Eye. "You could win this war! One of your kind, alone, possesses the power to defeat the attackers... why don't you act?"
"Because I never wanted this city," Petrov replied, "and I have no desire to fight for a mere rock. I am master of thousands of worlds, scattered across the stars. You merely fear what will become of you once the Imperials finally get their hands on their beloved 'Chancellor'."
Evans wrung his hands, turning back to the fortress, and then looking back at them. "They'll execute me!"
Petrov shook his head. "You have no blood on your hands, Chancellor, you have committed no crime that they can prove, and you are the duly elected leader of the Empire. They cannot touch you without dirtying their own victory. The Empire will have no choice but to welcome you back as their beloved leader once again... except that, without your master, you will have no choice but to throw your lot in with theirs. Your survival, it seems, now depends entirely on the Empire winning their miserable war. Good luck, Chancellor." He raised his claw. "Now, Justicar."
"As you command," the demi-wyrm answered, activating the Portkey. The Gorean vanished, leaving the Chancellor standing on the platform, all alone.
REDUX