Wings of Redemption (The Terra Nova Chronicles Book 3)

by Richard Fox

  “The Xaros?” the King asked.

  Carson shook her head, trying to quickly come up with a way to explain without taking an hour. “An invasion from beyond our galaxy. Xenocidal drones that wiped out any intelligent life they encountered. When the original colonists left home for Terra Nova, our war with the Xaros was going downhill. They were basically a backup plan to continue the human species if we lost the war. But we beat them. Destroyed the Xaros. All of them.”

  “Your ship and your technology is…lacking,” the King said. “Your kind destroyed these Xaros? How?”

  “Providence,” Birch spoke up.

  “It is quite the story,” Carson said.

  “Regardless, you won the war and then you decided to follow your fellows here,” the King said, more a statement than a question.

  “That’s right.”

  “So we can expect more of your kind?”

  “Not for a very long time, and not if we lose Terra Nova to the Triumvirate and they seize the technology for the Crucible.”

  “Crucible?”

  “How we got here. It’s a…gate between stars.”

  “A stargate?”

  Behind her, Carson heard Nunez suppress a chuckle then, “Ouch!”

  Carson winced. “Eh, we just call it the Crucible.”

  The King was silent for a moment, considering the Pathfinders. Finally, he said, “And why have you come to Yalara?”

  “The Triumvirate,” Carson said to the chorus of murmurs and hushed curses from everyone within earshot. “They’ve returned. They enslaved our first colony and fled after we broke free. Now Emperor Kyrios and his armies have destroyed Diasore, which we witnessed firsthand. My team and I were sent to find allies in the coming fight against the Ultari.”

  “Allies?” the King repeated. “The Triumvirate have been gone for hundreds of years, and the Ultari are nothing more than savages who barely understand the concept of civilization. They are constantly fighting among themselves. I’ve lost count of how many times the ruling body has been overthrown—though, with this new Council of Founders, their world is little more than a prison for most. What do we have to fear from them?”

  “As much as the people of Diasore had to fear,” Carson said. “But the Triumvirate will stop at nothing to see their Empire restored. Diasore was merely their first stop. It won’t be their last, and they’ll continue to destroy worlds until anyone who could stand against them is eliminated.”

  Refradnar waved a hand at Carson’s team. “Your Highness, we can’t trust this alien. Our shields will protect us. There is no need to risk the lives of our people to help these…humans.”

  “Your shields might protect you now,” Carson said, not wanting to lose any ground she’d made with the King. “But if Kyrios gets his hands on our Crucible technology, your shields will mean absolutely nothing. He can open a wormhole right above your world and let his Netherguard spill into your cities and there won’t be anything you can do to stop it.”

  “If you have such powerful technology, then why not use it and go back to your home? Leave this place?” Refradnar asked.

  “I told you, we can’t go home. The chance to open a gates back from here to our home galaxy and back are rare. The gravity tides are—I wish Elias was here to explain this—we can’t just go home. Not for many years. And we haven’t even built the Crucible gate we’d need.”

  Refradnar threw his hands up, laughing. “If it’s not even built, then how is it a concern for us?” He turned to the King. “Your Highness, please…”

  Carson’s chest tightened. She could feel her frustration growing and fought to keep it in check. Losing control here wouldn’t help her cause. “Kyrios knows the Crucible exists. Once he takes Terra Nova and gets his hands on the omnium and plans for the gate, there won’t be any stopping him. When he’s finished with us, he’ll come for you. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “Even with the shield, we can’t risk leaving our world undefended,” Refradnar said. “If what you say is true and the Triumvirate are planning to destroy us, who’s to say they won’t come for us first? Or the Burathi, for that matter? Or the Lincheeny? Your Highness, you must see that as well.”

  The King lifted a hand. “I see much, Consul. More than you might realize.”

  Refradnar hesitated at that, his goat eyes narrowing.

  “And while I agree with your assessment,” the King continued, “I can’t ignore what this human has said. To dismiss it without investigation would be foolhardy. But Carson’s presence here is a concern for another.” The King considered Carson for a long moment, then turned to Jena. “Meanwhile, Cleric, the princess has laid some concerning charges at your feet as well. You have been away for a long time. Are you conspiring against the Crown?”

  Jena grimaced, suppressing another round of coughing. “I serve the Hearth, your Highness. The people of Yalara are who I’m beholden to, not you.”

  Refradnar stepped forward. “You actively speak against the Conclave? Against the Crown?”

  “There is no law against speaking, Refradnar. Nor is there a prohibition against disagreement. And if you believe the Conclave still serves the will of the people, you are sadly out of touch. I never, in my life, would’ve thought that the Conclave would be actively working against the best interests of its people.”

  The Zeis’s face darkened, brow furrowing. “Your bests interests, you mean?” He scoffed, stepping into the arena. “I mean, what will your family do when the exportation of charcoal trees and perfume is banned, your incomes cut off? You speak of altruism, but the fact is that you’re speaking from pure greed.”

  Some of the Conclave members behind Refradnar murmured assent and the Zeis straightened, obviously gaining some of his lost confidence back.

  “Best interests of the people.” Refradnar laughed. “You’re a disgrace.”

  “You think this is about money?” Jena asked. “You think that my family has put everything on the line because of money? Do you think for one second that I would have become a Cleric if financial gain was a motivation?”

  Refradnar laughed again. “Gain? What need have you to gain anything? Your family name has done all that work for you. You’re nothing but a spoiled child, standing on the shoulders of a father.”

  Jena hesitated, as if not sure what to say, and before she could speak, another voice spoke up, not as loud and commanding as the King’s had been, but commanding all the same.

  “A father who doesn’t enjoy his name being tarnished by the likes of you, Refradnar.”

  A tall, well-built Zeis male stood just in front of the crowd, his eyes fixed on Refradnar. He wore a pale-blue tunic, unbuttoned at the top and tucked into white trousers trimmed with a navy-blue stripe running down the outside seam. He wore his red hair loose, framing his clean-shaven face and angled chin. His skin was a sepia tone rather than bronze.

  “Father,” Jena said, her voice calm, almost as if she’d known he’d appear at that very moment.

  “Consul Yentl,” the King said, turning slightly to address the new arrival, “you have certainly chosen a most fortuitous time to make your return.”

  Yentl bowed to the King, then looked over the faces of the assembled Conclave while moving to Jena’s side of the arena. “My apologies to all for my absence of late. Believe me, if it could’ve been otherwise, I would never have left Yalara.” He nodded to Obison, touching his forehead as the merchant returned the gesture.

  “An interesting sentiment coming from the very advocate of external contacts,” the King said.

  “Your Highness,” Yentl said, bowing again, “wanting to maintain external lines of diplomacy and trade does not mean I do not love my home—a position some have tried to claim.” He glared at Refradnar.

  “Your actions speak louder than words,” the consul retorted.

  “Indeed. Actions do tend to expose us for what we truly are,” Yentl said. “Which leads me to the reason behind my long absence.”

  Refra
dnar smirked. “Please, regale us.”

  “I’m glad you’re interested, Consul, because it concerns you and some of your closest friends as well.”

  The Zeis’s smirk faded, replaced by a look of intense curiosity. Or is that fear? Carson thought.

  “You spoke of financial interests a little bit ago,” Yentl continued, “interests that obviously pushed us in a certain direction, politically speaking. Of course, it can’t be otherwise. We are in the export business. The family business requires contact and trade with others to continue to thrive.”

  “So you admit that your push to continue our harmful relationships with these savages is purely financial?” Refradnar scoffed, shaking his head. “I’m surprised at you, Yentl. Usually, you don’t go out of your way to make my points for me.”

  Yentl smiled, obviously unmoved by the consul’s words. “Indeed, keeping the lines of trade and diplomacy open, that is how our world will survive the future. You say ‘harmful’ relationships, but I fail to see the harm in cooperation and mutual aid. We have goods and services they require and pay well for, which in turn supports millions of Zeis right here at home, some of your very own constituents, I might add.”

  Refradnar hesitated. As his mouth opened and closed, trying to formulate a response, several consuls behind him shared whispers, followed by a mixture of nodding and shaking heads.

  “Are you so willing to deny your people their livelihood? Money on which they depend? Denying your people wealth that you and your compatriots are all too willing to accept?”

  Shock replaced the consul’s curious expression as his goat-like eyes narrowed. “What is this? I…you speak nonsense.”

  Several of the other consuls seemed to share Refradnar’s shock, but they seemed almost concerned, as if they’d just been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

  “You asked about my long absence. You wonder why I have been out among the stars instead of serving my people here on Yalara? Well, the truth is, I had no choice. I had to follow the money—the money you received from the Burathi, from the Lincheeny, from the Regulos. Money to keep our people out of the markets and allow the other races to take over where we’d backed away. Money to force our people to stay planet-ridden. To keep us sequestered on Yalara, out of the way so the rest of the galaxy can prosper without interference from the Zeis.”

  Refradnar stepped toward Yentl. “Lies! He is a traitor to the Conclave! Arrest him!”

  “Yes,” Kalene yelled, now recovered from her fight, the flow of blood from her nose stemmed for the moment. She pointed, still holding the bloody cloth. “Seize them!”

  Several of her guards started to move but stopped as the King waved them back. “Stop!” He turned to Kalene. “You will keep silent.” Then to Yentl, he said, “These are serious allegations, Consul Yentl. I trust you have evidence to support your claims.”

  Yentl bowed his head. “That and more, your Highness.”

  “And what of these…” He looked at Carson and her Pathfinders. “Are they part of this grand scheme?”

  “No scheme,” Yentl said. “In truth, I’m not sure why my daughter has brought them here, but I have no doubt her reasons are pure and in the best interests of Yalara. I can tell you that I’ve heard reports of their actions on Diasore, and if the stories are true, their bravery and tenacity is on par with our own Order of Clerics. They are to be commended at the very least, and definitely treated with more respect than I have seen here today.”

  Kalene stepped forward. “Father, you aren’t seriously considering helping these criminals?”

  “And what crime have they committed, Daughter?” the King asked, his words harsh and cutting.

  “They have openly attacked your line of succession, Father! They’ve conspired to eliminate me with these…” she paused, eyeing Obison and Yentl both, “…these traitors. It’s obvious they’re only supporting the idea because it fully justifies the positions they’ve held for years.”

  “Careful with your words, Princess,” Consul Yentl said. “Once spoken, they aren’t easily retracted.”

  Kalene spat. “I have nothing to fear from you.”

  “No,” the King said, glaring at his daughter. “But you do from me.”

  The princess held her father’s gaze for a long moment, then lowered her eyes and backed away.

  “I don’t believe you’re lying to me,” the King told Carson, “but the consul is correct—as much as it pains me to say. I can’t spare warships without proof of the Triumvirate’s plans. Now, should they attack, it’s possible some of my forces can assist, but as it stands, my answer is no.”

  Carson was about to argue, but Consul Yentl spoke before her.

  “Your Highness, I will take my own battle cruiser if I must, but might I take some of our Cleric scouts to assist and reconnoiter the situation in Terra Nova? Having some defense is better than none at all. Chief Carson has saved my daughter’s life at least once and stood for her honor without giving a second thought to the consequences. She has earned that much. I’d challenge any here to say otherwise.”

  The gathered masses eyed their neighbors as murmurs of agreement flowed through the onlookers. The King looked around at his subjects, as if taking the pulse of the crowd before making his decision. Finally, he nodded. “I’ll allow it.”

  Carson let out a relieved breath.

  “Father, you can’t do this,” Kalene said.

  “I am the King. I can do what I please.”

  Refradnar stepped forward. “Your Highness, I must protest. This is—”

  The King motioned to the captain of his guard, standing a few steps away from the consul. The Zeis nodded and moved swiftly, taking hold of Refradnar’s arm as two more guards closed in to assist.

  “What is this?” Refradnar said, trying to pull away. “I am a consul of the Holy Conclave. You will unhand me this instant.”

  “You will submit for judgment,” the King said. “The evidence provided by Consul Yentl is concerning to say the least and must be brought before the Conclave for formal consideration. You will be placed in confinement until the evidence has been presented.”

  Kalene appeared at Refradnar’s side. “Father, this is outrageous. You can’t—”

  “Twice now you have alluded to what I can’t do.” The King clapped his hands once. Two more guards appeared, taking hold of the princess’s arms. “I’ve always known you were willful, child, but murder…” He shook his head.

  “What? No! You can’t do this!” Kalene struggled against the guards’ hold but had no hope of pulling free.

  The King put a hand on one of the guards standing before the Pathfinders. The Zeis female bowed her head and stepped back, the others immediately following suit. He considered Carson for a minute.

  “We will uncover the identity of your attackers, Chief Carson. Protecting the Hearth is much more than ensuring the survival of our world. I’m inclined to believe your story of star gates and the Triumvirate’s return. I’m curious about Terra Nova, but I don’t know if I can help you further.”

  “I thought you were the King?” Carson asked.

  “Come.” He motioned to her and they walked out onto a balcony. The King pointed to the sky and Carson made out a white smudge over the horizon, details lost to the haze in the air. The King removed a brass ring from his belt and handed it to her, then mimed putting it to his eye.

  She raised it up and realized the ring was a powerful optic. Tiny holograms of Zeis writing spun around the inner circumference and the view tightened on the white smudge. It resolved into a ship, one bristling with cannons and that must have been larger than the Enduring Spirit.

  “I didn’t know the Zeis could build such a vessel,” Carson said.

  “Not ours.” The King shook his head. “That is a Regulos enforcement ship. One of five in their entire navy. It escorted me back from the Core. The Judicator aboard told me he suspected a ship was on the way to my planet, one called the Valiant. One with a species called ‘h
umans’ aboard.”

  Carson swallowed hard.

  “The Judicator is a hard man, Carson,” the King said. “Merciless in his application of Regulos law. Do you know the Regulos legend of the sea monster that swallows the corrupt and unjust that attempt to pass the waters to the afterlife? Smugglers and pirates nicknamed him for that beast. They call him the Dark Maw.”

  “And does the Dark Maw wish to see me?” Carson handed the optic ring back.

  “He does indeed, Carson. He does indeed. I’d wish you luck, but it’s Dark Maw. My guards will take you to a waiting shuttle. Bring the rest of your Pathfinders. One word of advice…tell the truth and don’t beg for mercy. It just angers him.”

  Carson bowed her head, touching her fingers to her brow. “Thank you, your Highness. My people are in your debt.”

  She turned and followed a pair of Zeis bodyguards back into the chamber.

  “We in trouble, ma’am?” West asked.

  “Good chance of that.” Carson nodded. “Very good.”

  “We need to swing by the Valiant first?” West cocked an eyebrow. “For...anything?”

  Carson smirked, knowing that he was suggesting they should run for it.

  “Hale sent us here to make contact with potential allies,” she said. “There’s one in orbit just itching to meet us.”

  “But I heard he’s called the ‘Black Mouth’ or something,” Nunez said. “And we’re going to just…jump in there?”

  “We’re Pathfinders.” Carson touched the knife on her belt. “That’s what we do.”

  Chapter 23

  The facility was in the outskirts of the capital, in the middle of an expansive industrial complex; a small power relay station was surrounded by high walls and plasma-wire fencing. From the outside, the squat four-story building didn’t look extraordinary; in fact, if it hadn’t been for the distinct lack of network connection nodes, MAC wouldn’t have given the complex a second thought.

  He crouched behind a low wall on the roof of an abandoned warehouse, waiting for his drones to get into position. Drone Five’s feed came online as it neared the south entrance to the complex—a metal gate spanning a two-lane road, flanked by a squad of Ultari soldiers.