The Ghalian Code: Space Assassins 3

by Scott Baron

  Hozark had been generous with them after their recent ordeal, giving each an extra amount to spend on whatever morale-boosting goodies they might see fit to acquire. They’d done well, after all, and a happy crew was an efficient one.

  That, and sending the two off on a shopping expedition gave the Ghalian master the freedom to do what he had really directed them to this world for.

  Hozark quickly purchased a variety of rations for the voyage, all of them coming with the requisite spells stopping their spoilage for a short time.

  He paid a bit extra and had the spells added to even the foods likely to be eaten immediately. One never could tell, and there was nothing quite so annoying as the smell of rotting food in a sealed ship in space.

  That handled, he directed the porters to deliver the goods to their waiting craft, then made his way to the grain threshing facility. A tall silo stood casting its shadow across the fields below where men and women of all manner of species worked the soil with their specialized magic.

  Small floating conveyances kept their knees––or tentacles, as the case might be––from suffering the abuse of constant contact with the ground as they pruned and managed the vegetation the old way, by hand.

  There were spells that did what they were now doing, but out here, where time was abundant and magic was not, a little bit of sweat was far more logical an expenditure than valuable magic.

  “Quite a day,” Hozark said to the old woman resting in the shade of the silo, drinking some Arambis juice to refresh her energy.

  “It is,” she said. “Thank the gods for our good fortune.”

  “You are fortunate indeed,” he replied. “But all that is beautiful is not necessarily good.”

  “An assessment of a wise man,” she said.

  “Or a tired one. Obstacles are often exhausting, after all.”

  “Ah, but the obstacle is the way,” she replied with a little nod.

  The passphrase was an old one, and one of many the Ghalian spies had at their disposal. But Hozark was a student of the classics, and for that reason he had decided upon this particular one.

  The woman fanned herself and took another drink. “Can I offer you some refreshment?”

  “That would be wonderful. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “It is my pleasure,” she said, pouring him a glass and stepping close. “Zargota,” she said, naming the world the spy network had determined Visla Ravik was now using as his primary base of operations.

  “The boy?”

  “Unknown,” she replied. “But other factors may be in play. Corann fears the rumors may be true of another Council member in play.”

  “I guess we shall find out soon enough,” Hozark replied, then finished his juice and handed her coin for her troubles. “Thank you for your help,” he said.

  “Safe travels,” she replied, the message delivered. She then went back to work, not knowing how long it would be until her services would be called upon again.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Zargota.

  Of course they knew the world. Anyone with any familiarity with the Council of Twenty knew the few dozen worlds they tended to utilize as their favored bases of operation.

  There were always their actual homeworlds, of course, but with the frequency with which their powerful leaders were out expanding the reach of the Council, more often than not, they stayed at one of their peripheral estates rather than living full time aboard a ship.

  And Zargota was one such location.

  Visla Ravik had slipped up. He didn’t know it yet, but by heading to one of the better-known worlds within the Council’s realms, he had given the Ghalian spy network something of a rarity. Namely, an easy target to find.

  “You’re sure that’s where he is?” Laskar asked when Hozark relayed the coordinates to him.

  “I am certain.”

  “So, why the secrecy? I don’t know why you didn’t want to tell us where we were going until we got there. I mean, Moolar was cold and sucked, but Zargota? It’s pretty benign if you ask me,” Laskar said.

  “You have visited Visla Ravik’s world in the past?”

  “Of course. It was a pretty long time ago, but it’s a great stopping point to resupply and have a little fun. And Ravik runs a tight ship, so there’s never any craziness or drama in town.”

  “Some might call that a bug, not a feature,” Bud noted. “Drama is what gives a place character. Charm.”

  “If by character you mean scars from bar brawls and lingering rashes from questionable encounters, then sure,” Laskar retorted.

  “Yep,” the former pirate said with a broad grin. “Like I said. Character.”

  “I am afraid we will not be spending enough time there for you to partake of any recreation,” Hozark said. “Nor would you wish to after we have freed the captive and made our escape. Given the effort that went into not only snatching the boy, but also keeping the true identity of who commanded his kidnapping hidden, I feel confident we will be needing to make our departure in a most timely fashion.”

  Henni had been listening to the conversation from a seat along the wall, quietly taking in all of the facts and concerns of the upcoming adventure while she powered down a bowl of hot soup. She still had a tiny bit of a residual chill from the outing on Moolar. A lingering issue from the lack of body fat she carried as a result of her rough life on the streets of Groll.

  But she was filling out, albeit slowly, and as she returned to normal young woman proportions, the somewhat frantic way she ate her food had finally slowed to an almost normal pace. She still inhaled it, and in great quantities, to be sure, but no longer like a starving beast.

  Henni tipped the bowl back and slurped the remainder of her soup loudly.

  “Aaah,” she said, burping, then licking her lips with satisfaction.

  “Charming,” Bud grimaced.

  “Bite me, creeper,” she shot back, then turned her gaze to Hozark. “So, I have a question.”

  “Yes?”

  “What if this Ravik guy was actually hired by someone else?”

  Laskar laughed. “Oh, my poor little street urchin, he’s a member of the Council of Twenty. No one tells him what to do.”

  Henni bristled at his tone. “What about someone else in the Council, then? Someone stronger than he is? You considered that?”

  “The Council members are backstabbing, power-hungry assholes, but it would be pretty hard for one of them to get another to do something like this without the others being involved,” Bud noted. “Word is, some of them even have eyes and ears within the others’ ranks.”

  “Pretty standard spy stuff, right?” Laskar asked.

  “Yes and no,” Hozark said. “But they do make frequent power moves behind one another’s backs. And temporary alliances of a secret nature have been known to occur, though typically to gain personal power, not to coerce a non-Council visla to do their dirty work.”

  “Which is what I am still curious about,” Demelza noted. “To what end is Visla Jinnik being used? We have heard he is quelling uprisings and performing basic power plays for the Council, but that seems beneath a man of his power. They could have sent anyone to do that. But Jinnik? It does not make sense.”

  Hozark pondered her words a long moment. He had wondered the same for some time now, but no answer had presented itself, regardless of how much digging he had done. Visla Jinnik was under the Council’s thumb, no doubt, but whatever the real play was, he had one thing going for him the Council had not counted on.

  He had hired the Wampeh Ghalian to retrieve his son before submitting to his servitude. And when the boy was returned and safe, there would be a reckoning.

  But for the time being, he did what any concerned parent would do. Namely, anything he had to, to keep his son alive. And for the moment, that meant he was the hammer swung by the Council’s hand. A tool with no say in his use.

  Soon, hopefully, that would change.

  “We will be flying into the system
and making our approach as just a normal trading vessel stopping off to gather a few supplies and take some shore leave before continuing on our way,” Hozark said.

  “Why not split up like we usually do? Come at them from all sides?” Laskar asked.

  “The likelihood of there being multiple scouting craft in the system is high, as this is Ravik’s current base of operations, and Uzabud’s ship would draw attention if it touched down minus some of the craft mounted to its hull.”

  “Can’t you just shimmer cloak them?”

  “Mine, yes,” Hozark said. “And Demelza’s as well. But to do so through a jump while docked to this ship would use an excessive amount of magic, and we would be foolish to attempt to engage them once we are within likely observation range.”

  “So just use the magic. I mean, you guys have resources galore. It seems like the perfect time to use them.”

  Hozark knew it seemed like a simple solution to all problems. Using a shimmer was indeed a wonderful tool to keep from being seen. But they had spent a lot of power recently, and to travel cloaked for long periods and distances drained it even faster, especially in space.

  It was a lesson the young Ghalian aspirants learned in their flight training. Save your resources when you can, and do not use them without great consideration. Not because they shouldn’t be used, but because you never know when a true, urgent need for them might arise.

  But Laskar did not know just how much power they had expended in their recent adventures, nor would he. None but Hozark and Demelza knew the actual status of their reserves.

  The reality was, yes, they could shimmer cloak their ships, and for a decent amount of time, but neither had fed in some time, and they were running on a limited amount of power. And to engage a shimmer of that nature was a draining endeavor.

  That, however, would not be relayed. To all outside of the order, it would always seem as though the invisible ships could appear at any time, anywhere. It was part of the Ghalian myth they wished to continue.

  “We have the magic, Laskar, but the goal of this incursion is not to spread our numbers and make our escape more difficult than needed.”

  “More difficult? It should help us.”

  “They do not expect us, and they are in their home element. That means that while security is tight, their guard will nevertheless be down. The overconfidence of the powerful. If we spread our numbers, the likelihood of losing a craft should something go wrong increases.”

  “You think that because this is Ravik’s home base they won’t be ready for us?” Laskar asked.

  “There is no intelligence stating otherwise,” Hozark replied. “They do not know that we know they are behind this plot, and they are blissfully unaware we are coming.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “What was that you were saying about them not seeing us coming?” Bud asked his Wampeh friend through gritted teeth as he spun his ship into a steep dive toward the small moons orbiting Zargota.

  “Jump us out of here!” Henni shrieked as powerful magic buffeted the ship’s defensive spells.

  “We can’t. They’ve cast a blocking net. If we try to jump, we’ll be torn to bits,” Laskar said, his eyes glued to the display in front of him.

  “Then use the ship’s defenses and blast them!”

  “What do you think I’m trying to do?” he shot back.

  “So do it!”

  “We are in an evasive maneuver kind of situation here. It’s not as easy as you make it sound.”

  “Hang on,” Bud warned everyone. “This is gonna get a little uncomfortable.”

  He dove the ship in a tight spin, evading the craft hounding his every move. For just a second, he even managed to pull clear of them enough to give Laskar a moment to shift his attention back to the jump spells.

  “We clear to jump?” he called out.

  “If you can hold it steady for––shit. No. They adjusted.”

  The pressures within the craft were all kept relatively neutral whether within space or in atmosphere. Gravity stayed the same at pretty much all times, as the ever-running spells were designed to do. It was one of the first things that had been devised when space travel had been accomplished.

  But in severe combat situations the forces generated were sometimes extreme enough to put too much of a strain on those spells. And on those occasions, they would sometimes fail.

  This was one such occasion.

  The spells had backups and would start to re-engage, but the sensations the sporadic shifts in gravity caused were utter misery for those aboard. Fortunately, the vacuum of space typically provided a buffer of sorts for most maneuvers, but Uzabud was heading straight into the gravity of the small moon nearest them. It wasn’t full gravity as one would find on a planet, but there was enough to perhaps serve his purpose.

  “What are you doing?” Henni asked, her sparkling eyes watering as her stomach churned from the unfamiliar, violent forces assailing her body.

  “Giving them a little something to think about,” he said, powering into the moon’s gravity. “Hozark, prep the chaff and whatever else we can spare.”

  The Wampeh leapt into action, the shifting gravity throwing him against the walls as he moved. Even his exceptional reflexes and strength couldn’t overcome the forces they were being subjected to.

  He raced through the ship, gathering personal items, foodstuffs, and even a corpse that had been kept in cold storage for years for just such an occasion. All of them were then hauled on a floating conveyance down the corridor to the site of the umbilical spell leading to one of the craft on the ship’s hull.

  Hozark opened the inner seal. It did not look good. The chaotic flight and barrage of deadly magic, combined with the ship’s failing gravitational systems, had all pushed the spell to the limit.

  There was a tube of breathable air leading into the Kanarian shuttle––that had been mounted there longer than he could remember––but there was no telling how long it would hold out.

  But there was simply no choice.

  Hozark took a pair of powerful konuses from the items he’d gathered and bound them together, speaking the words of the unusual spell that would link their power in a deadly feedback loop.

  As soon as that was accomplished, he clambered into the failing umbilical and began loading all the things he’d collected as fast as he was able. The personal effects were first, and the corpse came last. It was already beginning to thaw a little, but that was of no concern.

  If he didn’t hurry, nothing would matter at all, for they would all either be dead or captured. If it was the latter, the former would be sure to follow shortly anyway.

  The last of it in place, Hozark sealed the ship and dropped out of the umbilical spell’s corridor of safe space just as it failed. He cast as fast as he could, sealing the accessway with a powerful spell, and with no time to spare. Had he been but a few seconds delayed, the lack of air caused by the sudden decompression would have prevented him from articulating the spell. And if that had happened, they all would have perished.

  Hozark didn’t have time to think about that. A violent blast of magic rocked the ship and sent him into the wall, hard. He scrambled to his feet and raced back to the command center, securing himself in his seat as quickly as he was able.

  “What is that?” he asked of the multi-colored splatter on the far wall.

  “Sorry,” Henni replied, her normally pale-pink skin having taken on a decidedly greenish hue.

  “You get it done?” Bud asked, ignoring all else but his evasive maneuvers.

  “It is loaded.”

  “How long?”

  “Forty seconds,” Hozark replied.

  “It’ll have to do. I just hope we have forty seconds,” Bud grunted as he pulled the ship into a sharp bank as they approached the moon’s surface.

  Henni’s head slumped forward, the g-forces causing her to black out. Laskar began to see stars, but he knew the old trick of clenching your legs and buttocks to keep the
blood from fleeing your brain. He stayed conscious, but only barely.

  Two of the pursuing ships slammed into the moon, their crews apparently unaccustomed to handling the unexpected forces at play. It was a last-ditch attempt by Bud, and it had bought them some time.

  Being the personal fleet of a Council of Twenty member, and a visla, no less, one would have expected them to have had a bit more training to handle these sorts of things. But Demelza watched them with great interest from her display, as several more of the pursuing craft abruptly began drifting in an erratic manner.

  “More of them are out of commission,” she called out. “For now, anyway.”

  “Twenty seconds,” Hozark called out.

  Bud banked hard again, taking advantage of the temporary gap in the enemy’s swarming attack squadron. “Laskar, do we have a jump window?”

  “I don’t know,” the woozy man said. “They’re trying to re-establish the blocking net.”

  Bud gritted his teeth and dove them straight toward the moon at even higher speeds than before. “Fuck it. Hozark. On my mark.”

  “Ready.”

  “Laskar, jump when I say.”

  “What?” the man said, on the verge of passing out.

  Demelza assessed the situation and immediately leapt from her seat, racing to Laskar’s console, where she grabbed on and held tight.

  “I’ve got it,” she called out. “We’ve got a window.”

  The enemy ships were closing in once more, the functional ones swarming and the others quickly regaining their senses. Bud had pulled away for a moment and was flying straight for the moon’s surface, but they would not fall for his trick a second time.

  “Five seconds,” Hozark said, his mental countdown always accurate whether fighting a dozen men or fleeing in a ship about to slam into a moon.

  At the last second, Bud pulled up hard. His ship shook violently from the amount of power its Drookonus was expending. The device was glowing hot from the power dump, but this was all or nothing.

  “Hozark! Now!”

  Hozark cast the release spell immediately, detaching the shuttle containing the charged konuses.