The Eve of War

by Christopher Hopper

  “Very well, Lieutenant.”

  Magnus felt his muscles relax and resisted the urge to take a deep breath. “Thank you, Senator. I will do my very best to ensure that you and your family are as close together as possible.”

  “I believe you,” he replied.

  Magnus looked at the others, knelt, and placed a holo-pad on the floor. “All right, team, here’s the plan.”

  • • •

  “That’s the last of them,” Gilder said as he dangled upside down in the vertical shaft. He handed the drill and bolts up to Dutch, who set them aside.

  “You good, Gilder?” Magnus asked down the tube.

  “Roger that,” the engineer said.

  “Okay, easy does it,” Magnus said as Haney and Nolan eased Gilder’s legs lower. They continued to lower the engineer down the tube until his boots were almost below the decking.

  “That’s good,” Gilder whispered. He let go of the hatch, which sat on the Bull Wraith’s cargo bay floor, slowly slid it to the side, and motioned to be hauled up. Once he was next to them again, Gilder pushed himself onto all fours, face red as a cherry and sweating profusely. He wiped his brow. “I almost passed out.”

  “So did we,” Haney said, stretching his arms. “If you make it through this, I’m suggesting a diet.”

  “A diet? If I make it through this, I’m eating everything I want!”

  “Have that discussion later.” Magnus looked at Dutch. “You ready?”

  She double-checked her MX13, modified with a suppressor and an extended energy mag, then nodded. “Locked and loaded, LT.” No one had called him that since… since Flow. Magnus felt his heart sink just a little.

  You gonna get her killed too, Magnus?

  “No, I’m not,” Magnus said.

  “Come again, LT?” Dutch asked.

  “Nothing. It’s go time.” He put on his helmet and started the countdown. “Sixty seconds. Go, go, go.”

  Dutch slid down the ladder and landed on the cargo-bay floor without so much as a click. Rawlson followed her, and the two of them disappeared.

  Magnus pulled up Dutch’s badge cam in his HUD and watched as the two Marines leapfrogged beneath the ship’s belly. Then they made a short dash to a control panel against the bay’s nearest wall.

  “They made it,” Magnus said through his external speaker. The room was full of the remaining crew and the senator and his family, all of whom breathed a sigh of relief for this first step of the plan.

  After several glances out the bridge windows, Magnus realized that the Bull Wraith’s crew had made a critical mistake. In their effort to remain anonymous, they’d exchanged physical patrols for systems monitoring. While their suppression dampers kept a captured ship from powering up and attempting to escape, it did nothing to keep the crew from slipping away unnoticed—at least, to a point. Magnus hoped to exploit that opportunity as far as he could.

  Dutch and Rawlson were typing furiously on the access panel when Magnus heard panels unlock and slide apart in the cargo-bay floor beneath the ship.

  “That’s it,” Gilder said, going back down the tube, this time right side up. He crouched under the ship and then gave Magnus a thumbs-up.

  “Grates open,” Magnus said. “Everyone down, one at a time.” They each lined up and prepared to climb down the ladder. Magnus helped Nolan down first, followed by the comm officer, then Haney. Next, he called the senator and Valerie, followed by Piper. Then came the senator’s crew. Magnus double-checked to see Dutch and Rawlson return below the ship—his cue to climb down. Magnus had no sooner grabbed the first ladder rung when he felt a sudden wave of vertigo touch him.

  “Nolan, confirm you felt that,” Magnus said over comms.

  “Affirmative. We’ve jumped out of subspace.”

  Splick, Magnus thought. “Accelerating the time line, people. Let’s move it.”

  Once underneath the bird, Magnus saw Gilder helping each person slip between the cargo-bay drainage grates that Dutch and Rawlson had opened. So far, so good, Magnus thought. Keep it nice and smooth.

  Dutch had disappeared into the drain shaft when Magnus heard someone order them to stop. He looked across the immense cargo bay and saw a Marine—no, just a trooper—in black Mark VI armor. The only noticeable insignia were three white stripes on his shoulder plate. Republic armor… on a Republic ship. The trooper brought an MX21 to bear on Magnus… with a Republic blaster!

  “Honeymoon’s over!” Magnus yelled at Gilder and Rawlson and flicked off his safety. “Get in!”

  The very first blaster bolt caught Rawlson in the throat, gouging a hole straight through the man’s neck. His body fell into Gilder and knocked the bigger man sideways.

  Magnus selected high-frequency modulation on his MAR30. He aimed—aided by his helmet’s AI—squeezed, and sent a deafening staccato burst of blue light across the cargo bay. His weapon recoiled against his shoulder as wisps of stray static dissipated. The bolts riddled the assaulting trooper with a tight grouping to the chest. The enemy trooper didn’t have time to register that the ultra-intensity bolts hadn’t even slowed as they passed through his armor and emerged from the back of his chest. He simply slumped to his knees and toppled over—a corpse—before his helmet smacked the floor.

  “Get in the hole!” Magnus yelled at Gilder as the engineer crawled out from under Rawlson’s body. An emergency klaxon filled the air. “Come on, Marine! Move that fat ass!”

  Startled, Gilder dove headfirst between the grates and disappeared. Then Magnus lowered himself in and scanned the area. Everyone but Rawlson had made it below the grates and down the chute.

  “Dutch, you copy?”

  “Loud and clear, LT.”

  “Blow it.”

  “With pleasure.”

  Magnus hugged his MAR30 to his chest and jumped down the chute as the control console across from the Sparrow detonated into a fireball.

  Chapter 26

  Kane had paced in his quarters for nearly an hour. He massaged his head, trying to ease the chronic pain that had been with him since… too long. Since the war. The pressure had become more acute, however, the moment he’d seen her name. He hadn’t seen it spelled out like that in a long, long time. And the letters had more of an effect on him than he cared to admit.

  Is she alive? Or is this someone else using her credentials to their advantage? His thoughts were restless, and he was torn between pursuing the ship signed out in her name and pursuing the ship that was headed toward the object of his desire.

  She was once the object of your desire, said that strange voice inside him. It always spoke so calmly, so assuredly. He hated it.

  “Yes. I admit that. But things have changed,” he replied, knowing that he was only going to goad the interrogator. But maybe this time he would win. “And that was a long time ago.”

  So time is what changed your love? the voice asked.

  Kane bristled. “No, things changed over time.”

  What things?

  Kane massaged his head more. He was already irritated by the pain, the memories, and the deep sense of loss. None of it ever left him alone.

  “We had different desires. We didn’t mean for it to happen. It just… happened.”

  I see, the voice said, but Kane knew it was condescending to him.

  He didn’t need to justify himself here. After all, it was he who’d done all the living—all the dying—not this counterfeit voice in his head.

  But you both had the same desires once, the voice retorted.

  “We did, yes.”

  So time changed those as well?

  “They changed over time too, yes.”

  You’re mincing words, Kane. You’re not answering the question.

  This was infuriating. He’d retreated to his quarters often on every ship he’d ever been assigned to, but even more after he’d become an admiral. Their pet project, he reminded himself. And then he’d gone off the grid. But in all this solitude, he only ever succeeded in getting berated by hi
mself. No, he corrected. By the voice.

  Answer the question.

  Kane knew what it was getting at—what it was trying to extract from him. But he hated to let it be right. He walked over to the sink and mirror on the far wall. He let the water run cold and then splashed several handfuls on his face, hoping his skin might feel it. He shut the faucet off and gripped the metal sink with both hands. Water dripped from his face as he glared at himself in the mirror—glared at it.

  You could have left this fool’s errand and gone after that ship yourself, the voice said.

  “I know I could have.”

  Then why didn’t you?

  “That’s what I have a fleet for.”

  But she never wanted your fleet.

  Kane pounded a fist on the sink. “That was her problem. She didn’t want to serve the galaxy either.”

  Serve the galaxy? the voice said in bewilderment, as if it had just heard something for the first time. Kane knew it was mocking him, as it always did when they sparred about this subject. He glared at it in the mirror, seeing its eyes flick back and forth. Yet she went to serve the galaxy with them.

  “She was selfish,” Kane spat. “All she wanted were the old things. She wasn’t open to the possibilities—to what we could have done together.”

  Or what you wanted to do.

  “She had a choice!” Kane noticed spittle running down the mirror. He wondered where it had come from. His hands ached as he squeezed the metal harder. “She had a choice,” he repeated.

  So did you.

  “Is that what this is about?” Kane seethed. “You just want me to admit that I made a choice? That it wasn’t time that did it, or distance?”

  Yes. That’s exactly what I want.

  “Fine!” Kane yelled. “I chose! I chose to pursue the greater good instead of her. Are you happy now?”

  I don’t know, Kane. Are you happy now?

  “Damn you!” His arms tried to wrest the sink from the wall, saliva bubbling from the corners of his mouth and a small trickle of blood coming from his nose. “Damn you to hell!”

  • • •

  “Admiral,” came a voice over the private channel to his quarters.

  “Go ahead, Captain.” Kane wiped his face with a towel. He noticed blood on it.

  “The target ship has made port on Ki Nar Four.”

  Kane smirked. He folded the towel and laid it over the edge of the sink. “They’re most likely refueling, taking on supplies.” He paused, brushing the towel’s tiny filaments in the same direction. His hands were getting old, the skin thinning. “We wait. Keep our distance. When they jump again, watch for subspace variations. If they’re not picking up another core, they might get a modulator.”

  “Understood, Admiral.”

  So, you’re going after them, concluded the voice.

  “Yes,” Kane replied.

  “Excuse me, Admiral?”

  Kane had forgotten to close out the channel. His men couldn’t hear him talking to the voice—that would be too much for them. “Nothing, Captain. Carry on.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Then Kane slammed his fist down to disconnect. The voice waited. Kane hated the pauses. The pauses were the worst.

  You could have seen her again, you know, it finally said.

  “Seen who?” Kane asked, genuinely unsure which her the voice was referring to.

  Why, your daughter, of course.

  Kane’s heart leaped, a feeling he had not had in longer than he could remember. “She’s on that ship?” How long has it been? Fifteen years? “How can you be sure?”

  I’m always right. You just don’t like to trust me. But you will. Soon.

  “You’re right,” Kane agreed, “I don’t trust you.”

  Yet you’re becoming more and more like me.

  “No, I’m not. Now you’re just toying with me. I’m going after the stardrive.”

  Which is exactly what I would do.

  “STOP IT! No, you wouldn’t.”

  You could have seen your daughter.

  “You already said that.”

  You could have met your granddaughter too. But you chose, Kane. You always choose.

  Chapter 27

  Awen felt like she had stepped into another world, transported as if by magic from a realm of decay to a kingdom filled with wonder. The juxtaposition so startled her that she left the Unity and glanced over her shoulder just to make sure that the Reptalons weren’t apparitions. They hissed at her as they closed the doors.

  Yup, she said to herself. They’re real.

  Sootriman’s inner sanctum vibrated with all the color and noise of a fancy town square. The enormous glass-ceilinged room was crisscrossed by red-and-gold fabric stretched between tall pillars. Spread under it were clusters of guests, some reclining on lush pillows, some seated at small tables, and others betting on suckow matches played on patches of bare marble floor.

  Unlike the hallway, the air in here was filled with the fragrant smells of perfume and spiced meat grilled over open coals. Awen swallowed her saliva as she suddenly became hungry. The air was also alive with music, though Awen couldn’t place the style. She noticed colorfully dressed minstrels playing drums, lyres, and tambourines in the far corner.

  Like the musicians, every person in the opulent space was beautifully dressed—so much so that Awen felt out of place in her borrowed knit turtleneck, leggings, mechanic’s boots, and cloak. There had to be a hundred or more guests, and all were enjoying themselves immensely. The lifestyle of these people was as far from those she’d witnessed during her walk through the city as she could imagine.

  A few of the guests looked up at her as Ezo led the way to the opposite side of the room. Awen instinctively hid her face in her cloak, fearing they might notice she was a Luma and hate her like Ezo said they would. By the time she was halfway across the room, murmurs had replaced the music, and the air had grown still.

  Awen looked ahead to see perhaps the most surprising sight yet. Atop a dais not unlike the mwadim’s sat a gold throne decorated with red fabric. More than a dozen young women sat or lay across the stairs leading up to it, and in the oversized chair sat a woman of immense beauty. Her dark almond eyes were set in a tanned olive-colored face, and her dark-brown hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves onto a short red-and-gold dress made of exquisitely fine linen. She wore gold rings on both hands and gold bracelets on her wrists and ankles, which accented her luxurious skin, elegantly long legs, and bare feet.

  Awen had gotten better about being jealous of other women in recent years. With maturity came the ability to feel comfortable in her own skin. Still, approaching this woman was humbling, if not strangely humiliating.

  By the time Ezo had reached the bottom of the dais, the room had gone silent. The woman on the throne watched them with her dark eyes. She hadn’t moved a muscle upon Ezo’s approach. As the three of them stood there in total silence for several seconds, Awen glanced around the room, expecting Sootriman to appear. But he never did.

  For the love of all the mystics, Awen realized, it’s her.

  As if on cue, Sootriman blinked and started shaking her head. “What possible reason do you have to come crawling back here knowing I’m just going to kill you, Idris Ezo?”

  Maybe I should have stayed with the ship, Awen thought, realizing this might have been a mistake. A very big mistake.

  “Sootriman, darling, it’s good to see you again too,” Ezo said. “You look as extravagant as ever.”

  Sootriman sniffed the air, winced, and flicked her wrists. “Not today, Idris.” As if summoned by the sound of the bracelets jingling on her arms, two dozen armed guards emerged from the shadows behind the pillars and moved toward Awen. Unlike the Reptalons, these were human men, each clothed in a simple white tunic and brandishing a plasma spear, which they activated as they walked. The thrumming sound of free energy sent a tingle up her spine.

  Awen looked left and right as the guards moved in—presumably
to dispatch her, the bot, and Ezo with a few swipes of the golden spears, the magenta-colored blades ablaze with heat. Awen pushed herself into the Unity and prepared to resist the guards. She had not come this far to get hacked apart on some seedy back world.

  “Is this how you expected it to go?” Awen whispered to Ezo.

  “Totally. This is normal.”

  “This is normal?” Awen asked, her incredulity threatening to overcome her hushed tone. “She normally tries to kill you when you show up?”

  “Yeah, but she won’t.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “She might be my ex-wife, but she still loves me.”

  “Your ex-wife?” Awen looked between Ezo and Sootriman, her mouth hanging open. “Are you kidding me right now?”

  “He’s not,” Sootriman said, rolling her eyes.

  “Actually, sir,” TO-96 said, “there is one minor detail regarding that outstanding matter.”

  “What detail?” Ezo asked, snapping his head toward the bot.

  “And what do you mean outstanding, Tee-Oh?” Sootriman added.

  “Well, sir, after we left Plumeria, your snarky comments to the tower operator got me thinking. I decided to check in on the status of your filing. If you remember, she asked you to file the final notice of divorce, sir.”

  “And I did,” Ezo said.

  “You attempted to—correct, sir. However, as you might recall, you also owed and still owe several months of back shipping taxes to the Republic.”

  “Oh, Ezo, you didn’t,” Sootriman said.

  “I don’t like where this is going, Ninety-Six,” Ezo said.

  “Civil Code number GR 27-2.4 clause 12—”