Superdreadnought 5

by C H Gideon

  “Geroux, hack their databases and get me everything you can,” the AI told her.

  She nodded and went to work without a word, fingers flying across the keypad of her wrist computer, and then on the ship’s console before her.

  Reynolds reached out over the comm. “Takal, transport Maddox back to the Reynolds, and get him to the infirmary and taken care of.”

  “I’m fine,” the general argued. “I can finish the mission.”

  “It’s not a suggestion,” Reynolds clarified. “We’re only here for a few minutes longer, and you need that rib looked at to make sure you don’t end up with a punctured lung.”

  Maddox scoffed, then winced, grabbing his side with an annoyed grimace. “Fine.”

  “Now, Takal,” Reynolds said.

  The general vanished right after, completely disappearing as if he had never been there to begin with.

  “I’m never going to get used to seeing that,” Jiya commented. “It’s so…weird, people just poofing away like that.”

  “It’s a handy transportation method, especially when people keep blowing up the Pods.” Ka’nak laughed, casting a sideways glance at Reynolds, then Jiya.

  “Probably true.” Jiya smiled.

  “I’m in,” Geroux called. She clattered at the keyboard, then grinned. “All data has been scanned and is being uploaded to the SD Reynolds’ servers.”

  There was a loud boom at the bridge door as the cultists realized they couldn’t bypass the wrecked lock and they needed to be more creative to get inside. The floor and walls shuddered in response to the blow they’d delivered.

  “How much longer?” Reynolds asked Geroux.

  “All done,” she answered after a short pause. She disengaged her system from the ship’s and spun on a heel. “We’re good to go.”

  “I’d love to see the faces of the cultists when they get in here and realize we’re gone. Vanished without a trace,” Jiya said, her smile infectious.

  “Trigger the flux capacitor, Doc!” Reynolds called over the comm.

  There was no response.

  “Uncultured swine,” Reynolds barked, shaking his head. “Transport us out of here, Takal.”

  That time, the inventor complied, and the crew was teleported back to the bridge of the SD Reynolds, leaving the cruiser behind.

  Reynolds motioned to Tactical as soon as they arrived. “Put that hunk out of its misery.”

  Tactical did exactly that, blowing the ship to pieces and letting its remains drift quietly into the void of space.

  “What now?” XO asked.

  “We scrape the cruiser’s databases and see what we can find,” Reynolds answered. “Between it and what we’ve grabbed from Jora’nal’s computer, maybe we’ll have a better lock on where our supposed god is hiding out.”

  “Until then?” Jiya asked.

  Reynolds grinned wide and turned to face her. “How would you like to go home?

  Chapter Twelve

  The Voice arrived on Aspar, to learn that what he’d been told was only part of the story.

  It hadn’t been the Federation crew who’d brought about Jora’nal’s death and the destruction of the cult’s place on the planet, but Jora’nal himself.

  The Voice growled when he learned that, wondering if his master already knew what had happened. What would he tell him now?

  That their own disciple had been the cause of losing both the SD Reynolds and their foothold on the planet?

  He didn’t look forward to speaking with his lord again, but it would happen soon whether he wanted to or not.

  First, however, he would learn all he could about what transpired here on Aspar before he reached out to Phraim-’Eh.

  The Voice drew in a slow, deep breath and let it linger in his lungs until the char began to burn. Then he let it out, staring down the destruction left behind by Jora’nal.

  “Fool,” he mocked the disciple in absentia. “You deserved worse.”

  The Voice marched over the wreckage, grateful that the powers that be of Asparian society cared little about the execution of law and order. Jora’nal’s death had been justice as far as they were concerned.

  The loss of the cult’s headquarters and disciples and resources here mattered little to the ruling elite of Aspar. They only cared that it wouldn’t happen again, so they had banned the cult from settling again or rebuilding in the wake of the catastrophe.

  Phraim-’Eh would not appreciate that, and the Voice was sure his master would rain down judgment upon the rulers of Aspar, but it likely wouldn’t be soon.

  The Voice’s master was consumed with destroying the Federation spawn of Bethany Anne, the AI superdreadnought who had wrought such harm to his plans of expansion.

  No, Phraim-’Eh would chase the sentient ship to the ends of the universe before he calmed enough to deal retribution for such petty grievances as Aspar evicting them.

  But when he did return, the elite of Aspar would rue their decision. They’d be so much ash, such as what the Voice trod upon now. There would be no mercy or compassion shown in Phraim-’Eh’s vengeance.

  The Voice thrilled at the idea, imagining what his master would do to exact his revenge.

  He only prayed he remained alive to witness it.

  As things were, there was little hope of that.

  The Voice traversed the scorched blocks that had been part of a city until just recently, and he came upon the blast point where Jora’nal had made his final ill-advised stand against the Federation agents.

  There’d been no word as to their condition, but common sense told the Voice that Reynolds and his people had survived the blast or the SD Reynolds would have remained nearby to deal with such a tragic loss.

  The timeline the locals had given him largely confirmed that.

  The explosion here on the planet had occurred first, followed by the destruction of the Pillar in space. That made him think Reynolds and the others had slipped away without issue, though given the ruin of the neighborhood, he couldn’t imagine how they’d managed that.

  Nothing sentient could have survived a blast like the one that had occurred there.

  “But if something did, there has to be a trace of it. A hint,” the Voice said to himself as he clambered over a short stretch of wall and entered what had once been a building that had housed the local cult members. “Maybe I’ll find the android’s skull to parade before the master.”

  He laughed at that, given how unlikely it was.

  Reynolds had proven himself durable and quite resilient, much to the Voice’s regret.

  “This would all be so much easier if you would just die, android!” he shouted to the empty, smoke-shrouded sky. “Why can’t you just die?”

  The Voice examined the blast site, scanning it for residual energies. He didn’t expect to find anything, but when he picked up the barest of blips of current still active in the area, he was surprised.

  He followed the line of the signal out of the destroyed building, realizing once he was about two blocks to the east of the explosion that the damage there was far less traumatic.

  He circled a half-demolished building, tracing the signal to a smaller, squat building another block farther that looked almost whole.

  Its neighbor had apparently protected it behind its bulk, taking the blow and leaving the smaller building sheltered in its lee.

  The Voice went to the building and slipped inside.

  It was little better than the other wrecks, but it was whole.

  He traced the signal to a darkened corner covered by debris. With eager hands, he knelt and cast the trash and wreckage aside and ducked into the corner, looking for the source of the signal.

  He’d already figured out what it was by then, but he was glad to see the tiny box screwed to the wall, a single green light beeping on its face, glowing eerily in the dust.

  It was Jora’nal’s backup server, which he used to send coded messages to the Voice and their master from inside the signal-blocked headquarters
.

  It was still operational.

  The Voice wiped the dust off and synced his computer to the server, downloading its contents. So little on it, the process only took a few seconds before it was complete.

  The Voice rose from his knees, dusted them off, and commanded his computer to display the contents of the rescued server.

  “Please don’t let him be a greater fool than I already believe,” the Voice muttered as the information scrolled across the screen.

  A moment later, the Voice groaned, realizing Jora’nal was every bit the fool he’d prayed he wasn’t.

  There, amidst the various information the disciple kept, were his communication logs, each time-stamped and encoded with delivery information.

  “Damn you, Jora’nal!” the Voice shrieked, slamming a fist into the wall and kicking up a cloud of gray dust and debris. Shards of stone pattered to the ground around his feet.

  Although the information was insufficient at face value to lead the Federation to Phraim-’Eh, he knew there was enough for an AI to trace back and eventually find the master.

  There was no doubt about that.

  “You’ve damned us all, Jora’nal,” the Voice called. “I pray your death was painful.”

  The Voice knew there was no chance of that.

  Jora’nal had been granted mercy in the form of a quick death. Now it would be the Voice who suffered for his failure to keep their intelligence secure.

  Nothing left to do, the Voice activated his comm and reached out to his master.

  If death is coming, I’d rather not wait, he thought, although he couldn’t keep his hands from trembling.

  When the channel was opened on the other end and Phraim-’Eh was reached and put on the line, the Voice had summoned what was left of his courage.

  “Jora’nal has betrayed us, Master,” he said.

  The declaration was greeted with brooding silence.

  “Although there is no sign of his remains or those of the Federation scum, I found the server for the headquarters he maintained here.”

  The Voice paused to catch his breath before continuing.

  “On it are coordinates that will lead the SD Reynolds to several locations of strategic value to you, Lord.”

  “Let me guess,” Phraim-’Eh interrupted, the words spilling loose as though he were a serpent. “One of those locations is the military base on Rolant?”

  “Yes, Master,” the Voice answered meekly.

  He knows.

  It was clear how he did, too.

  “Reynolds has already been there?” he asked, knowing the answer.

  “He has,” Phraim-’Eh replied, “and left it a smoldering ruin. Three destroyers and a cruiser were destroyed there, too, and countless disciples left to bleed out in the sand.”

  His master’s voice grew sharper and more jagged with every passing moment.

  “With no witnesses alive to inform me of what happened, I have to assume that Reynolds was able to scrape the databases of the ships and, judging by Jora’nal’s example, I can only presume there is information there that should not be. Information that might lead them to my holdings, beyond what he already possesses.”

  The Voice swallowed hard as the understanding of what his master was saying began to dawn on him.

  Even if they captured or killed Reynolds and his people, the information he held would be sufficient to find Phraim-’Eh and all of his installations. Were the android to forward this intelligence to Bethany Anne or anyone else at the Federation, there would be no end to the hell that would be visited upon them.

  Phraim-’Eh was not ready to face the entire might of the Federation yet, regardless of how powerful he might be.

  Were Bethany Anne to arrive at the head of her full might, the Cult of Phraim-’Eh would be nothing more than a minor footnote in the annals of history.

  Reynolds needed to be stopped before that happened.

  “I will follow their trail, Master,” the Voice promised. “And I will reach out to the other installations and prepare them before the SD Reynolds arrives. I’ll have them vacate and leave nothing behind for the scum to find.”

  “I have already contacted the Suri and Hajh installations and warned them of Reynolds’ coming, but dependent upon which one they go to first, there is little we can do. Hajh is barely more than a forward operating outpost in the middle of a frostbitten planet. They will offer Reynolds no resistance.

  “As such, I will travel there and hope to reach it before the Federation scum arrive. You travel to Suri and help prepare their evacuation. I want nothing left behind to further the Federation’s intelligence, is that clear?”

  “It is, Master,” the Voice answered reverently.

  “I had not expected to have to chase this android when I vowed to take the fight to him, but I will do what I must to tear his star from my sky,” Phraim-’Eh vowed. “Contact me once you’ve arrived on Suri.”

  The connection died without another word, and the Voice let out the breath he’d been holding during the entire conversation. His shoulders slumped, and he groaned as the weight of what was transpiring settled over him.

  The end was coming, one way or another.

  He prayed to be on the winning side.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The planet Lariest appeared on the screen as the SD Reynolds Gated into Jiya’s home system.

  It was Geroux, Takal, and Maddox’s home, too.

  The brilliant blues and greens gave her pause as she looked down upon her former home, still amazed by how beautiful it looked from up here. It had been a long time since she’d been there last, or so it felt.

  Geroux came over and took her hand as they stood at the viewport, and even Maddox seemed to shuffle about in his seat at the sight.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Geroux asked.

  Jiya nodded. “From up here,” she replied, the realization of what they’d left behind washing over her then.

  It hadn’t been a friendly or fond farewell when they’d left, and Jiya wondered what kind of reception they’d garner now that they had returned.

  She wouldn’t have long to wonder.

  “We’re being hailed by the planet, Captain,” Comm announced.

  “Haven’t seen that happen before,” Maddox said from his station, the Pod-doc having already repaired his injured rib. Dr. Reynolds had signed off for him to return to his duty station.

  Jiya agreed.

  The Larians weren’t known for their strong orbital defense, and she was just as surprised by the greeting as Maddox was.

  “Onscreen,” Reynolds ordered.

  If he thought the message was strange, he didn’t show it.

  A no-nonsense face appeared on the viewscreen. Her reddish skin glistened under the lights, and her dark hair was pulled into a tight tail behind her head. Black eyes stared across the void, and Jiya felt a sudden pang of homesickness at seeing someone contacting them from her former home.

  “I am Paltrus Varl of the Lariest Space Defense Initiative. You are entering Lariest Provincial Space. Please identify yourself and your intent,” the soldier said in an officious voice.

  Jiya glanced back at Maddox. “That’s new, too,” she mouthed.

  The general nodded his agreement.

  “I am Captain Reynolds of the Federation Superdreadnought Reynolds,” the AI replied. “For what nation do you speak: the Toller, Marianas, or Melowi?” he asked.

  A sly smile cracked the face of the female before it disappeared. “I speak for all of them, Captain Reynolds. Much has changed since your departure from our world.”

  “So it would seem,” Reynolds answered.

  “Might I ask if Jiya Lemaire is still a member of your crew?” Paltrus went on. “Is she with you?”

  “She is indeed,” the AI answered. He glanced at Jiya.

  She shrugged, just as surprised as he was at the mention of her name.

  At that, Paltrus smiled without hesitation. “Excellent. Her family wil
l be glad to hear it. Please, follow our coordinate prompts to the Marianas Spaceport, and you will be met by transportation to the Provincial palace. We welcome you to Lariest.”

  The female closed the link as the coordinates were fed to Ria for the ship’s landing.

  “That was fucking weird,” Jiya muttered, looking at Geroux and Maddox.

  “I expected a less hospitable welcome from Marianas, I have to admit,” Reynolds said.

  “You and us both,” Maddox agreed, gesturing to indicate him and Jiya. “None of us exactly left on great terms.”

  “Maybe your father has had a change of heart,” Geroux suggested.

  Both Jiya and Maddox chuckled at that.

  “When groths fly,” Jiya joked. “I can’t see my father welcoming me back unless he plans to snatch me up and stuff me in a cell for the rest of my days.”

  “Right alongside me,” Maddox said. “This is strange.”

  “Regardless,” Reynolds told them, “we’ll be prepared for anything stupid President Lemaire might attempt while we’re here. For now, let’s just go along with it and see how everything plays out. We saw some pretty amazing changes back on Grindlevik 3, so who knows what’s happened? The universe doesn’t stop trucking along while we’re off gallivanting.”

  Jiya nodded her agreement. She wasn’t the same kid who’d run away from her father time after time, finally landing on the SD Reynolds and exploring space. She was herself now, her true self, and nothing her father could do could bring her down.

  At least she’d get to see her sisters Reea and Lory again.

  A thrill ran through her at that thought.

  It had been forever since she’d seen the girls, and Jiya wondered what they’d been up to in her absence.

  Worry briefly clouded her mind as she thought of their relationship with their father, but it passed quickly. Her father would never hurt the girls, even if he kept them locked in the palace.

  They were safe and taken care of, even if they weren’t loved by him.

  “Bringing the ship in now,” Ria announced as she angled the SD Reynolds in preparation to land.

  The familiar port sat below them, and Jiya smiled as she recalled her first meeting with Reynolds.