The Alorian Wars Box Set

by Drew Avera

As she looked in front of her, the first raindrop struck her face before a monsoon appeared from nowhere. The sky merely opened and dumped a cascade of water onto her.

  “Great, as if this shit isn’t hard enough already.”

  Icy rain engulfed her, droplets running down her face before her clothing absorbed it. It wasn’t long before the chill got to her, causing her to shiver as she walked, her teeth chattering. But nothing would stop her from finding Carista. Realization struck as she came to understand the game. Every time she wanted to give up, an opportunity presented itself, with the alternative harder than the original objective. Each time she decided to quit, she started one again at the beginning. How she knew this was beyond her, but as the thought ran through her mind, it made sense.

  “Finish the game, Anki,” She said, talking through her teeth. “I’m not going to let this world stop me. Not now. Not ever.”

  With resolve she scanned the horizon. Her new understanding of the experience empowered her. Lightning flashed in the distance, silhouetting a figure not far from Anki’s position. Whoever it was stood facing away from her, still as a monument to perished gods.

  “Carista!” Anki called, but there was no answer. She doubted she could be heard over the sound of the howling wind and pouring rain. Instead, she ran, using everything she had to close the distance between her and the person she saw. She just hoped she could run fast enough before the landscape shifted again.

  23

  Hespha

  A stiff, bitter wind chilled her skin as she closed the door to her home. Her cheeks flushed, bordering on numbing as she walked, her heels a clacking percussion on the sidewalk in beat with her heart. As she rounded the corner, Hespha startled at the sound of approaching footsteps. She turned abruptly, clutching the knife in her pocket when she saw his face.

  “Good morning, Hespha. I’ve tried to call you several times, but you never answered. I decided to swing by to check on you,” Ka’Hor’al said with a painted-on smile stretched across his face. The more she looked at him, the more convinced she was that Ka’Hor’al was up to something.

  “Yes, sorry about that, I had a migraine last night and turned off all notification,” she said, releasing her grip on the knife.

  “I’m guessing it was one the wine didn’t help with?”

  She knew from his tone that it was a joke, but she couldn’t find it in herself to fake a smile, much less laugh. “It was one of the worst ones I’ve experienced.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Ka’Hor’al said, taking her hand in his without asking, dragging her with him as he led her to the car. “Do you think you need to see a doctor this morning?”

  “No,” Hespha croaked as she stutter-stepped next to him. Her heart raced at his manic disposition. He often crossed the line with her, lately more than ever, but this felt akin to an abduction with how tightly he gripped her hand. “Are you in a hurry, Ka’Hor’al?”

  He slowed to a stop and paused to look in her direction, his eyes frantically darting side to side. “They know something,” he answered.

  “They know what?” his cryptic message caused her to pull back, not wanting to be bound to him.

  “I don’t know,” he confessed, “but I think it has to do with the location of the weapon. I only heard bits and pieces last night. It was part of the reason I called.”

  Hespha shook her head, trying to come up with the words to say as she struggled to put together was Ka’Hor’al was insinuating. “Take this back to the beginning. What did you hear exactly?”

  Ka’Hor’al looked around, canting his head as he peered across the horizon. His actions reeked of paranoia, and anyone who might be watching would recognize it. “Not here. Let’s get to the car and I’ll tell you everything.”

  He darted off, neglecting to take her hand. She followed less reluctantly than before, curiosity gnawing at her. If Edon knew something, then they were ahead of the game and in a position to overthrow any claim of leading Hespha’s company. I can’t let that happen, she thought as she fell into step beside Ka’Hor’al, her stride long, aggravating the muscles in her legs from the exertion. He opened the door for her and she climbed into the dark maroon vehicle without looking, disappearing into the shadowy compartment, but she was not alone.

  “Good morning, Hespha,” Edon said, giving her pause as she looked forward, her eyes wide and her heart beating faster.

  She looked over to Ka’Hor’al as he climbed in behind her. “What is this?” Hespha asked, desperately trying to mask the betrayal in her voice. Ka’Hor’al made no attempt to answer. Instead, he looked down at his feet.

  “It’s quite simple,” Edon said. “The board is losing patience with you. When you promised to have access to the weapon, they took you at your word. But your recent failures cause them to question whether you have the ability to lead a corporation on the brink of war. The escalating violence in other sectors as the Greshians draw near us requires a more adept individual to maintain our small but devastating force. If we are to allow you to be part of the effort, then you need to come through with your promise.”

  Hespha swallowed the lump in her throat and inhaled sharply. “I’ve worked tirelessly trying to find the weapon,” she said.

  “We know. Ka’Hor’al said the same. But as you know, sometimes the best isn’t good enough when the board demands excellence.”

  “Do you have any leads you’re willing to share to aid us in tracking down the weapon?” Hespha asked. Her stomach turned asking such a question, but she had little choice. The clock ticked closer to imminent war.

  “The board cannot disclose such things,” Edon answered, but based on his tone, Hespha knew he was lying.

  “What do you know?” She shifted the question enough to tickle his ego.

  Edon smiled. “Now you’re asking the right question. I gave Ka’Hor’al the coordinates of a suspicious transmission. It is not on our world, but three sectors away in a place we have no claim to. I could send a ship to seek it out, but I think it would be best if the face of CERCO made an appearance. Perhaps your investigation can turn something up?”

  “What world is it?”

  Edon scratched his head. “Unnamed. Ironic, isn’t it? It gives the illusion that you are going nowhere.” He grinned as if his joke was funny though it sounded more threatening.

  “I’ll go,” Hespha said, not knowing if it was a legitimate lead or a trap. Either way, I must do something if I’m going to take control of CERCO.

  “I thought you might,” Edon said, opening the car door and climbing out as the sound of vinyl-wrapped cushions reforming into place accompanied him. He turned and considered the compartment. “A transport vessel is departing tonight for that sector. It might be a good idea to flash your badge and gain passage.”

  “What?”

  Edon pulled a badge from his pocket, handing it to her. “This is a restricted pass, but you will have more access than you currently do within the CERCO database. Try not to abuse it.”

  She took the badge and watched the pale morning light reflect off the holographic watermark under her personal information. When she looked back up at Edon, he was gone. “What the hell?”

  “I told you they knew something,” Ka’Hor’al said behind her. Hespha moved to exit the car. “Where are you going?”

  Without looking back, Hespha answered, “I’m going to pack. I have a transport to catch.”

  24

  Ilium

  Ilium’s footsteps echoed down the long passageway as Stavis struggled to keep up. His sense of urgency rivaled any similar sensation he experienced previously. Even under mutiny on his previous ship, he felt he still had control. There was something about how Quino obtained orders to the King Slayer that made chills run down his spine.

  “I still don’t know what you expect to find, sir,” Stavis said as they rounded another corner, descending to the next level.

  “I want his belongings scanned for communication devices, for one,” he said wi
thout looking back. His agitation with the looming situation took its toll on his demeanor. He hated to admit it, but genuine fear drove his decision-making in his current situation.

  “Everyone on this ship has a comm device, sir. I’m not sure that constitutes espionage.” The skepticism in her voice gnawed at him, but she was right.

  “Just humor me,” he replied, a weak argument, but one he hoped his most trusted officer would relent on. The fact she didn’t arrest him on the spot following his confession gave him hope, but he wondered how much of that hope was her giving him enough rope to hang himself.

  They arrived at the hangar where Commander Quino’s personal gear sat in a tri-wall container, banded with heavy, metal straps. The fact no one opened it after the new XO came on board puzzled Ilium, but not enough to dwell on it.

  Ilium grabbed a pair of cutters from a work bench near the bulkhead and clipped the banding. The sound of metal springing apart and striking the deck reminded Ilium of the tiny bells he wore on his wrists during the Solstice celebrations in his youth. “Do you have the scanner?”

  Stavis pulled a device from her pocket, handing it to him.

  “You do it,” Ilium said.

  She shrugged. “All right.” Without skipping a beat, she opened the top of the tri-wall and ran the device over the top. As the sensor moved silently along the side of the container, Ilium felt his stomach churn. “Nothing,” she said.

  Ilium sighed, grabbing one bag and hauling it out of the tri-wall, placing it on the deck next to them. “What about now?”

  Stavis scanned the next layer, but nothing alarmed the scanner. She shook her head as she moved it slowly from one side to the next.

  “Goddammit,” Ilium seethed, feeling himself losing his argument for investigating Quino fading with each breath. He yanked the next piece of gear from the tri-wall, but paused when he saw what sat beneath it. “What the hell is that?”

  Stavis peered into the tri-wall, looking down with her eyes wide. “It looks like an electromagnetic pulsar.”

  “What is that?”

  “It’s used to temporarily disable electrical devices without permanently damaging any equipment. Imagine everything within a certain distance suddenly stops working while this device is operational, but once the device is turned off, all systems fully restore.”

  “If everything shuts down on this ship, then everyone would die. Without power, the life support systems go. There’s not enough air in the ship to last the crew more than a few hours,” Ilium said.

  “Unless you had an EVA suit, then you could survive long enough to bring the ship back online after everyone else is dead.”

  “It makes sense, but you can’t operate a ship of this size with one person. You would need at least a couple hundred personnel to keep it operating,” Ilium said. He scratched his head, staring at the device. “Can we disable this and buy us some time without giving away the fact we found it?”

  Stavis sighed. “I’m not familiar enough with the operation of it to be comfortable doing that. If I do something wrong, then it goes off and I might not be able to disable it after tampering with it.”

  Ilium’s heart raced. The prospect of having someone attack his ship and crew so soon after Captain Crexon and several others were killed made the blood drain from his face. It takes a sinister sonofabitch to take out a full crew, he thought. “What do you propose?”

  Stavis gawked at him, her jaw slack. He watched intently as she struggled to formulate the words he feared hearing. “I think we put everything back and pretend we didn’t see it. We have someone we trust keep an eye on him and monitor the situation from there. Without more information, we will be forced to make a rash decision, which might result in a huge mistake.”

  “The huge mistake is letting him continue to walk around on this ship as the second in command,” Ilium snapped, his voice high.

  “Trust me, sir. If he is working with others on this ship, then stopping him now could spark another chain of events we won’t know about until it’s too late.”

  He stared into her eyes, seeing the passion, the belief that what she said was true. Ilium struggled to find a counter-argument, but came up empty handed. “That’s as sound a decision as we’re going to get for now, I suppose. I’m not comfortable keeping this thing on the ship, though.”

  She nodded. “If we jettison it, then he’ll know we’re onto him. That could prompt a backup plan. We need to monitor his communications off ship and on the ship. If he has accomplices, we need to find them and silence them as well.” Her cold gaze into Ilium’s eyes revealed something about her he had not noticed before. Her ability to be manipulative to win. He found it oddly satisfying that a personality trait similar to his own could be used for the good of the Greshian Navy, instead of opposing it.

  “Very well. I want you in charge of this. Keep me notified. I trust your judgement, and I think you would agree, given our secret, that I might be biased regarding why he is here.”

  “Yes, sir. Consider it done.”

  Ilium lifted the bags back into the tri-wall and closed the top. “Of course, you realize, if we all die, it’s your fault,” he teased, attempting to make the situation lighter.

  She looked up at him with a smirk. “Yes, sir. I do.”

  25

  Brendle

  The lights dimmed on the bridge, casting everything into shadows, drawing his attention to the most important place on the ship; the weapon’s station. As the border of the screen highlighted in red, Brendle tapped the keys on the console, contemplating his next move. “The weapon does not appear to be tracking us,” he said. “The heat signature suggests it was not a recent firing, either.”

  “What does that mean, Captain?” Deis asked.

  Brendle ignored the question, moving on to a tactic. “Pilot, move the ship fifteen-degrees port.”

  “Roger that,” Pilot answered. Gravitational forces seized the ship momentarily as thrusters engaged, pulling the ship clear of the missile’s trajectory.

  Brendle watched the screen with unblinking attention. As the Replicade shifted her position, the missile continued the same path. “It means this missile is no longer operating as an active seeking missile. With the heat signature all but completely gone, I believe it is a stray. But this was fired within hours of us discovering it. The thermos-blankets are not completely iced over and it’s traveling at a velocity consistent with a projectile not inhibited by gravitational forces from large bodies.”

  “Who fired it?” Deis asked.

  Brendle tapped on the console, zooming in with the sensory array to get a closer look at the missile. “The markings are Greshian.”

  “So, one of their ships is in this sector?” Malikea interjected, the worry in his voice accompanied by a high-pitched squeak.

  Brendle hesitated to answer. “I’m afraid so.”

  “What do we do with the missile?” Deis asked, prompting Brendle’s hands to fall onto the keys of the console once again.

  His gaze followed the running lines scrolling across the screen as he contemplated their options. “Pilot, what means do we have to detonate this missile without using our more valuable assets?”

  “Your two best options are firing a slug from the rail gun, or hacking into its computer and steering it towards the nearest star.”

  “Can you hit it from this distance to detonate it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do it.” Brendle watched the screen as the ship’s AI seized control of the weapon’s station and powered on the rail gun. All data regarding the weapon appeared as if someone on the console controlled it, giving Brendle the opportunity to familiarize himself with the system without having the responsibility to operate it himself. “Don’t let it get too close.”

  “I’m allowing the missile to come closer to ensure a large enough target base to lock onto.”

  Brendle nodded, understanding the tactic, but growing nervous as the distance between a Greshian warhead and his ship closed
. The harder his heart beat, the more difficult it was for him to stop himself from taking control of the weapon and doing it himself. I hate not being in control.

  Like an answer to a prayer, the rail gun fired, catapulting a slug from the cannon and delivering it to the approaching missile. Brendle and his crew watched the monitor, waiting for the warhead to explode safely away from the ship. A collective sigh emanated from the center of the bridge as it exploded into thousands of smaller fragments, rendering it useless space debris.

  “Thank the gods,” Deis said under his breath.

  “I’m inclined to agree with you, but I have a concern,” Brendle said, his voice flat.

  “What is I t?” Malikea asked.

  “Greshians don’t miss and they don’t launch live missiles for training purposes. What is a stray missile doing in this sector? And if they battled someone, then who was it? This isn’t a militarized sector, and barring a waste of resources by firing on an already defeated enemy, I don’t have a logical explanation for the presence of this warhead unless they found an opponent equally matched to them.”

  “What are you trying to say?” Deis asked, pulling his robe tighter around his body.

  Brendle leaned against the console and gazed at the data coming in from the sensor array. The missile was used for ship-to-ship warfare, not planetary destruction. That meant only one thing, there was indeed a battle. “I think the Greshians met their match.” Surprise lit his voice more than he thought possible, brushing towards a gleeful idea that an end to the war and destruction could be possible after all. But what if the new combatant was worse than the Greshian Empire? The thought filled him with dread, smothering his reluctant hope. “I’m saying, if there is a force comparable to Greshian’s might, then we may find more than we bargained for in coming to this sector. We need to be vigilant in monitoring our surroundings.”