by David Beers
Cristin grew a bit hazy when trying to classify this man. He was a mutant, though she had no quarrel with that. What was he fighting for, though? Why had he come to this planet to free the gigantes? Cristin didn’t mind him doing that; her business competed with this planet’s.
Still, the question of why plagued her.
Her reason for everything she did was her family, the one that had made their home on a cold, desolate planet but had managed to thrive generation after generation.
Why was he here? Why was he freeing creatures that had no business being freed?
Cristin wasn’t sure if she would get answers to those questions. She hadn’t come this far to palaver with the mutant. No, she’d come here to get what her father had promised her: a warm planet.
One of the other warlords she traveled with, Simo de Colombus, was introduced through the mic in her ear.
“Simo would like to speak with you, Queen,” the AI said.
“Put him through.”
“Why are we going so slow?” the man demanded with no greeting.
Cristin had set the pace for the entire voyage, and now she’d slowed down. “I wanted to get a look at the planet.”
“Why? Have you not seen enough of it in holovids?”
These men would never understand. They came from warm planets, from places with forests and rivers that flowed without ice covering the first meter of them. They couldn’t understand what it meant to her and her family to finally earn what so many others had been given.
“We will be there shortly, Simo. Our scouts say they don’t have the defenses to stop us even if we took a year to make it there.”
“Simo has ended communications, Queen,” the AI said.
Never mind him, Cristin thought. “Connect me to Galer.”
“Yes, Queen.”
A second went by, then the fat man’s loud voice was in Cristin’s ear. “Simo messaged you complaining, I take it?”
“Yes,” Cristin responded.
“Me too. He’s not happy with the pace. I told him to calm down, enjoy the ride, he’s going to have fireworks soon. He didn’t want to listen.”
The fat man talked too much. He told everyone what was in his head at all times, which was an extremely foolish thing to do.
“Are you going to the ground, Galer?” she asked.
“Me? Why would I do such a thing? We’ve got all the weapons and tools we need to stay up here, watch fireworks, and go down when it’s all finished. I was thinking of smoking some of that good Zeus’ grass I got on your planet while I watch it.” He paused for a moment. “Wait. Are you planning on going there?”
Cristin didn’t want to answer yet. “I’m not sure. I was curious what your plans were.”
“I plan to eat and be merry while my soldiers bring me a planet. I suggest you do the same. No need for crazy antics, Ice Queen.”
Cristin ended the connection. She looked at the panels hanging from the ceiling of her bridge and her twenty pilots harmonized with the dreadnought.
That had been the difference between her and these two men in their war those many years ago. They had let their soldiers fight for them, and she had fought with her soldiers. Her family had been the weakest of the three when the war started, and now she dictated the pace to the two men.
If she sat here with them, she might lose her edge. If she went down with her people, no one could take away what she’d earned.
For Cristin de Monaham, death wasn’t a possibility. Perhaps it was her father’s words when she was a young girl, telling her what she would have and how much she would expand their empire. Perhaps it was only her belief in herself.
In the end, it didn’t matter. She would not die on this planet, and to remain on this ship and watch from on high was not something an Ice Queen would do. Those born in warmth could afford that.
Those born in the cold took with blood and steel.
Chapter Ten
Alistair watched as the first ships breached the atmosphere. They were distant, nearly at the planet’s curvature, but he could see their fiery blaze as they sliced through the sky.
They did what he feared they would. They had brought incendiaries with them, and he could see them beginning to burn the ripe forests that housed so many gigantes and so much wildlife. Caesar had been working on bringing as many of the gigantes as possible to the city. It was the only place they had ground-to-air support.
Many of the gigantes had listened, but Alistair refused to command them as slaves, so some had remained in their homes.
Alistair’s advanced eyes could see the flames starting to catch. He wouldn’t look away, even though he wanted to. Any death that happened here was his fault, no one else’s. The AllMother had been right. He’d taken his eyes away from their end goal, and death was coming for people beyond his inner circle. For beings beyond his inner circle, because even the beautifully hued trees and shrubs would burn.
Alistair stood watching on a hill on the edge of the city. His transport was behind him, and he’d heard Servia’s land moments ago. He knew he had to get back and ready himself for war, but he wanted to see this first. Someone needed to witness the first burning of the planet that had been peaceful before he arrived, or at least peaceful for some. Certainly, the death of all who lived here hadn’t been a possibility.
Servia came to his side. “Ave, Prometheus. All simulations show they’re going to wipe out the land beyond the city first. There are ships just beyond the curvature that are starting to burn the opposite way. In ten to twelve hours, the world will be on fire. Then they’re going to make their way here.”
“It’s the smart move. Destroy any chance of an attack coming from behind.” Alistair looked at his transport, the side door still open.
“The city is as fortified as we can make it. As many gigantes as we could persuade are inside the walls. It will be harder for them to burn the city. They’ll have to put boots on the ground.”
Alistair knew all this; he also knew Servia was trying to get him to do something—anything—besides stare at the destruction.
Kill the shepherd, Alistair thought. He looked at the sky. The dreadnoughts were visible in the daylight, hovering just outside the atmosphere, their lights burning brightly.
I just gotta get the damned shepherd down here, and then I’ll scatter her entire fucking flock.
He started walking toward the transport, calling as he did, “I’m suiting up. Get me the fastest transport you have, hook Jeeves up to the thing, and put every weapon you have on it.”
Alistair didn’t wait for Servia to respond. He hopped into the transport and pulled into the sky.
Servia watched the transport take off, processing what she’d been told to do.
She wasn’t sure what he was planning on doing, but she didn’t care much.
Guilt had frozen Prometheus. She understood it, or at least why he felt it. He’d come here and conquered the planet, and now they all might die because of that decision.
Guilt was an acceptable response, at least in the beginning.
Now, though? With the enemy at the gates, bringing more firepower than she or anyone else knew how to handle?
The time for guilt was over. The time for action had arrived. Servia had seen no way out of this for the past week. Before that, she’d been neck-deep in the administrative work Pro had given her. It’d been his duty to guide them, but now there wasn’t anything to guide.
He had to rescue them.
As Servia watched the transport fly toward the compound, she didn’t allow herself to smile. There was no time for smiling and barely time to consider her orders. However, for the first time in a week, she allowed herself to hope.
They called him Prometheus all the time, but everyone who’d seen him in battle knew there were two sides to the man: the thoughtful, loving, and currently guilt-ridden leader known as Alistair Kane, and the warrior who knew no limits, held no discussions, and killed without feeling known as Prometheus.
> Servia allowed herself to hope because it hadn’t been Alistair Kane who’d left this hill. It had been the only god of war she’d ever met.
Ave, Prometheus.
“Sir,” Jeeves said, “I feel it’s my duty to let you know that the odds of you being killed in this endeavor are greater than eighty percent. I also feel it’s my duty to tell you that if you want someone to die with you so you’re not alone, I am not the entity you need. I will not die but simply remain at the compound.”
“Jeeves, if you don’t shut up, once I’m done with them, I’m going to come back and kill you,” Alistair said.
“Point taken, sir,” the AI responded. “All systems are go. Ready when you are.”
Alistair looked at the controls in front of him. He’d flown these things before, but rarely, and not in combat missions. “Jeeves, before shutting up completely, how well-trained are you in corvettes?”
Jeeves answered, “I’d say about as well-trained as you are. I’ll primarily be able to assist by detecting things you don’t see and letting you know how close you are to death.”
Alistair nodded. “All right, Jeeves. Let’s do this.” Obs was in a small seat that folded out of Alistair’s. He’d taken it to heart when the AllMother had told him to keep Obs with him, and he wasn’t leaving the drathe out of this one.
For the drathe’s part, his hair stood on end, and he wouldn’t stop whining. Alistair ignored him as he touched the glass panels in front of him, firing up the corvette’s engines. The machine launched straight into the air, going much higher than he’d intended.
“I would advise a lighter touch,” Jeeves said.
“Remember what I said about shutting up?”
“Of course, sir. We are currently five hundred kilometers from the nearest ship. We can get there in—“
Alistair turned the thrusters, and the ship ripped forward. “Turn the ship transparent.”
The walls appeared to fade, allowing him to see everything around him instead of only what was in front. He pulled up to clear the city’s wall. A few minutes after that, the strangely colored plants beneath blurred together as the ship sped forward. He didn’t know how fast he was going, only that the enemy Jeeves had talked about was now visible.
Obs whined louder.
“Hush, Obs! Jeeves, you gotta tell me when I’m within firing range.”
“I advise you to turn around, sir.”
“Advise me when to fire this godsdamn weapon.”
“Yes, sir.”
Slowly this time, Alistair faded into the back of the shared mind and the warrior came forward. Death became a thing that only happened to others, and it was a condition he was glad to deliver.
The ship raced through the air, time disappearing for Pro. His eyes focused on the first enemy, and his mind no longer cared that he wasn’t in his element.
Death was what mattered.
“In firing range,” Jeeves said.
Prometheus glanced at the glass panel. It changed slightly, giving him the ability to fire in front of him. The other ship was turning around, knowing that someone was coming for it. Fire blazed beneath them.
Pro started firing.
“Take over flying. Get me as close to it as you can.”
Jeeves said nothing, but the controls to either side of Pro began moving in different directions.
Lasers sliced above and below the enemy.
He fired back. Pro’s ship rocked downward hard—much too hard, but they dodged the incoming laser. Prometheus said nothing, only tried to straighten himself as Jeeves straightened the ship.
“Obs, you there?”
The animal gave a half-yelp, half-bark response, and that was enough for Pro.
They were close to the fire now, and the enemy had the advantage of higher altitude. Prometheus’ head was on a swivel, trying to find the other ship.
“Get me a godsdamn vision of him,” he cursed.
Jeeves lifted the ship, turning almost vertical. Prometheus tilted his head in what normally would be the up position.
The ship was coming straight toward him and firing.
“HIGHER!” he shouted, and the thrusters threw him back against the chair when Jeeves pushed the ship as fast as it could go. The lasers barely missed the lower half. Jeeves started turning again and Prometheus was upside-down, but he could use the corvette’s weapons. He started firing, laser after laser pouring from the side of the ship.
The enemy wove in and out, the pilot much more skilled than Prometheus had thought possible.
He didn’t see the laser that hit the ship, only felt it as they were knocked off-course.
“We’re going down, sir,” Jeeves said. “Trying to land, but there’s no way to continue flying.”
Prometheus looked behind him and saw flames stretching up the side of the ship. The lasers had not hit home but had started a fire.
The last thing he remembered seeing was the fire on the ground beneath him heading directly for them.
Chapter Eleven
Thoreaux stared at the holovid in front of him, unable to believe what he’d just seen.
Prometheus had flown into battle, as brazen and arrogant as ever. He’d watched the dogfight, and the entire thing had taken only a few minutes. In that short time, Thoreaux had seen his leader overmatched, unable to maneuver or fire.
Then he watched the man he followed—the man he loved like a brother—take a hit and fall into the flames.
He stared silently, along with the rest of Pro’s council. His eyes were wet as tears threatened to fall.
“What just happened?” Relm asked. “I didn’t see that, did I?”
For so long, they had seen Prometheus rise and rise again. No one watching the dogfight could believe he’d lost. It didn’t seem possible.
“Is he…” Servia began to say, but her voice trailed into silence before she could speak the word they were all thinking.
Dead.
Thoreaux reached up and roughly wiped away his tears. “Jeeves? Is he alive? Is Prometheus alive?”
The AI spoke over the intercom. “I cannot say. The wreck destroyed my connection with the ship.”
“Give me a prediction, then,” Thoreaux ordered through clenched teeth.
“I did the best I could to land smoothly. The ship was upside-down and the AI implant was on the top, so it was immediately destroyed. Based on where the corvette was hit, the speed, trajectory, impact velocity, and environment around the crash—"
“Give me a percentage,” Thoreaux demanded.
“Five to fifteen percent chance he’s alive. His modifications might push it as high as seventeen percent, though the confidence level falls dramatically at that point.”
Thoreaux leaned forward, placed his hands on the table, and looked down. He was quiet for a long moment, using everything in him to keep from shedding the tears that wanted to flow.
When he looked up, his eyes weren’t dry, but the tears were still at bay. He found the AllMother sitting to his right, Caesar between them. “Can you see him?”
The AllMother stared at the holovid, flames filling it. She was deep in concentration, obviously trying to do what Thoreaux asked.
A full minute passed, and she shook her head. “I don’t see him anywhere.” She met Thoreaux’s eyes. “I’m not strong, though. You all heard what I did with him last night, and I’m only awake out of sheer adrenaline. He could still be alive.”
“What do you think?” Thoreaux asked, still leaning on the table.
“I think we need to prepare this city for battle. If he is alive, he will handle himself.”
Thoreaux nodded a few times, trying to force his emotions away. Faitrin was two people over, next to Servia, and he couldn’t look her in the eyes right now. He would cry.
“Caesar, prepare the troops. Servia, prepare the land-to-air retaliation. Once they finish with the forest, they’ll come here.”
Alistair opened his eyes. He could hear something in the distance, though
he had no idea what it was. He blinked a few times, unable to understand why he could only see white.
Am I blind?
The next question that came to mind was, why couldn’t he move? His arms, legs, torso—everything was stuck in one place.
Am I paralyzed?
He wiggled his fingers and toes, pushing the paralyzation theory out and making him realize what surrounded him. Past events came back to him, and he remembered seeing the fire as the corvette fell into it.
He was surrounded by some sort of foam, probably flame-retardant material. Jeeves hadn’t wrecked the damned ship but had somehow achieved a landing that didn’t kill or break the thing.
Alistair could have kissed the intelligence on the mouth had it had one and had he been able to move.
He didn’t understand the noise he heard. It was like a low whistle.
He also didn’t know if he could get out of this foam. His hands were in his lap, his legs close together; he had no leverage.
Slowly, he started to move his arms and legs. Pushing both at the same time, he rocked back and forth, creating small spaces within the foam. With each rock, he created more room for his muscles to work.
It took him about five minutes, but finally, he had enough space to kick.
The foam shot out of the ship and went ten meters into the air before crashing into…
“That’s not possible,” he said aloud as he stared at ash instead of flames. How long had he been out? Long enough for the fires to burn out? If that was true, then the city was lost, Thoreaux and the council were dead, and the movement—
A giant head filled the space he was staring at. Not a giant head, but a giant’s head.
It was Nero.
“I was wondering when you would wake. I’ve been out here an hour, keeping the fire at bay. Tough work.” He smiled and raised a canister to the hole. “I stole it from the city.” He tapped his temple with his free hand. “Saw that you would act stupidly, so prepared early. Come. Get out. There’s much to do.”
