Legions & Legacies

by Lee Watts

"Fear not, Little One," Shania said. "It says in the Codex the Elder shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Elkanah. Don't worry, the Elder hasn't brought us this far just to abandon us here."

  Pipaluk smiled and held on to the passage for strength. At sunset, with the desert sky turning shades of pink and red, the group came upon fragments of bloodstained, torn cloth and a few bones. Shania moved forward to examine the remains. Recognizing the bits of rags and knowing the kill had to be recent since it wasn't buried by the sand or bleached by the sun, she deduced it was Lamar and the other thieves.

  "That pack of wild Rhia most have found them," Rew reasoned.

  Shania, pointing to a streak in the sand, added, "Well somebody got away. Those aren't Rhia prints, and I don't see any tracks following whoever it was. Come on, that's the direction we need to go. Keep moving, the Dridmor can't be far behind. Every moment counts."

  Two hours after sunset, Shania called for a short break to let the mortals regain their strength. Lying flat against the sand, Shania stared into the heavens. The moon, full and bright, reflected hues of silver down through the cloudless sky, bathing the desert floor in shades of white and gray. The air was still and cool against her skin, and she felt an odd peace in that desolate place.

  Pipaluk saw the Guardian quickly sit up and crane her neck as if straining to hear something.

  "What is it?" the girl asked.

  Shania held up a finger telling the girl to be quiet for a moment. Listening intently, Shania's eyes got suddenly wide, and she turned to the group.

  "EVERYBODY UP! HURRY," She commanded.

  Confused, the group rose. From the direction they'd left came the unmistakable roar of Rhias. Everyone knew what it meant. The searching party had found the spot where Lamar and the others were attacked. Panicked, the group started running. They abandoned their tent materials, rushing desperately through the desert night. It wouldn't take the Rhia long to catch them, Rew guessed less than thirty minutes. It was a generous estimate. With nothing to lose, Shania pulled out her radio and turned it on as she ran.

  "Merrick! Merrick! This is Shania, come in!" There was no response as she continued her futile attempt to outrun run the beasts. "Repeat, Merrick, this is Shania, come in!" Her communication device remained silent.

  Koraden dismounted his lizard and picked up a piece of the torn clothing. Surveying the site, he tossed down the remains in disgust.

  "There's not enough here for the whole group," he scowled in hatred of the Elderites. Noticing the lines in the sand, he realized which way the group had fled. Heading back to his beast to resume the hunt, the radio at his side beeped an incoming call from the Citadel.

  "What?" the Dridmor growled.

  "Overlord, we're detecting signal traffic," came the voice over his radio.

  "Off-world?" Koraden asked.

  "No, Overlord. It's coming from a location near you."

  "Patch it through," Koraden ordered. Eavesdropping on the message, the Dridmor heard a name which made his blood boil, Merrick. Infuriated, he jumped back onto the Rhia and pulled hard on the reins, spurring the creature on with a shout. The others followed, sprinting after the fugitive group. Topping a dune, the Dridmor caught sight of their prey, causing them to charge harder. The Rhia roared in bloodthirsty hunger, knowing the time of the feed was at hand. Hearing the savage bellows, Pipaluk looked over her shoulder and saw the speeding animals racing toward her. She screamed and tripped over her own feet. Shania helped her up as the girl scrambled to her feet. The others in the group were looking back too.

  "DON'T LOOK," Shania ordered. "KEEP YOUR EYES FRONT AND RUN! RUN!"

  Koraden, riding the largest and strongest of the pack, pulled ahead of the other Dridmor. The Elderites, winded and physically exhausted, pushed forward out of pure terror. One fell in the sand, then another. Their energy spent, one slowly got up and resuming running, but the other person, an elderly man entirely bereft of strength, could go no farther. Rising to his knees, he closed his eyes saying his last prayer, asking for a quick death and prepared to meet his Creator. Still at least a day short of the desert's edge, there was no hope of any of them escaping. Shania knew there was no way to save these people, but she had to try. Halting her flight, she turned, separated her battlestaff, and prepared to engage the charging unholy ones. If she were to die, she would die fighting, not running.

  With roars and pounding of powerful claws thumping against the sand, the Rhia drew nearer. Then, streaking through the night sky, Shania saw a shooting star.

  No, not a star, a rocket, she realized.

  It flew low and fast, striking the ground only shortly in front of the foremost lizard. The explosion lit the darkened air with a brilliant shade of red and orange as fire belched out from the detonation. A second rocket blazed a trail overhead also impacting between the group and their pursuers. The blast was so close that the shockwave knocked Shania back several meters. Rising from the sand, she saw a battered and pieced-together ship zooming near. It sat down shortly before the group, the hatch lowered, and outran ten Guardians with flaming battlestaffs.

  "MERRICK," Shania cried out joyfully upon seeing her old friend.

  He raced to her as the other Guardians aided the fleeing Elderites onto the ship. A third rocket forced the pursuers to break off, heading behind the adjacent dunes for cover.

  "I didn't know you heard my call," Shania panted as they hurried to the ship.

  "Sorry," the salt and pepper bearded Guardian answered. "I ran into a little trouble when picking up some of the Guardians; it blew the transmitter. All I can do is receive not transmit. We heard your signal and honed in on it," he explained as they made their way up the ship's ramp.

  "At least you're here," she breathed.

  "That's everyone," Pipaluk said as the last of the group entered the craft. Merrick hit a button next to the hatch, and it quickly closed. Pushing another switch on the wall, he called to pilot.

  "Gareth, that's it; take off!"

  Lifting from the surface, the vessel rocked. Pipaluk staggered and had to grab onto Merrick to keep her footing.

  "Whoa! Is it supposed to do that?" the girl asked.

  "It's okay, Little One," Shania assured her. Merrick helped Pipaluk steady herself.

  "Sorry," she apologized.

  "It's alright," Merrick answered.

  Shania smiled warmly.

  "Merrick, allow me to introduce the bravest girl on Dalban II, and the whole reason this group is alive today, Pipaluk."

  Merrick smiled down at the skinny waif.

  "Indeed," he said giving a nod of admiration. "An honor to meet you, Miss Pipaluk. I am Merrick."

  As the unexpected craft wobbled up from the surface, Koraden glowered at it in fury. Slowly the ship spun around and headed off toward the far edge of the desert.

  "MERRICK," he cried after the ship in futility. "MERRICK!"

  Rage erupted from his depths, and he spat vehement curses at Merrick, Shania and the Elderites. Screaming in anger, he ordered the Citadel to launch ships to track the escaping craft.

  Seeing they were holding a steady altitude, Shania asked why they weren't heading into space.

  "We can't," Merrick answered. "There are twenty more Guardians in the temple at the desert edge, and more than that, the lightdrive motivator was damaged on our last jump. It'll take days to get it recharged."

  "But the Ramillie will be on us in an hour or two," Shania warned.

  "I'd rather take our chances down here on the surface than up in space," Merrick countered. "At least here there's somewhere to go."

  Realizing it was the best choice, Shania nodded. It took only minutes to reach the desert edge, and the ship sat down the near a circular, weatherworn temple of stone and wood.

  "Merrick," came Gareth's urgent voice over the ship's speakers. "You better get up here."

  Merrick rushed toward the cockpit, Shania and Pipaluk following.

  "What is it?" he asked his mortal c
ompanion.

  "Company," answered the Vault Keeper. "Lots of company."

  "How many?" Shania asked.

  "A dozen fighters and half as many troop shuttles," Gareth answered. "Looks like they'll be here in fifteen minutes, maybe less."

  "What are we going to do?" asked the wide-eyed Pipaluk.

  Shania looked to Merrick who subtly shook his head indicating he didn't have another option to offer.

  "There's only time to do one thing, Little One," Shania told her. "Pray."

  The group hurried into the temple with the others, and there they did pray, fervently.

  All too quickly, the time passed.

  "Here they come," Gareth shouted in warning.

  Rushing to the door, Merrick peered into the darkness and saw the running lights of the fast approaching ships. He didn't know if the Ramillie would attack the temple from the sky or have the soldiers attack from the ground. Either way, it was likely they would all die that night. Clasping his battlestaff, he prepared for a final stand.

  CHAPTER 40

  "The depths have covered them: they sank into the bottom as a stone." – Exodus 15:5

  Breaking through the heavy cloud cover of Acatus V, the starship Fame continued in its search for the Fortune. With his quarry surprisingly out of sight, Crimson rose from his command chair and went to the station of the sensor operator, looking over the man's shoulder. The sensor screen was blank.

  "There's no sign of them, Captain."

  "I can see that," Crimson sneered in annoyance. "Keep looking; he's got to be here, and launch a relay drone. Have it watch from orbit to see if he tries to sneak back out into space to make a run for it."

  "Aye, Captain."

  Studying the empty sensor screen, Crimson scowled. LaRouche had disappeared – again. It irritated the one-eyed man causing him to curse his rival's name under his breath.

  "LaRouche."

  Concealed under the waves to hide from the searcher, the starship Fortune continued its watery descent.

  "Are we on the bottom yet?" Sosimo asked.

  "Not quite," answered Jaiden who was piloting the submerged craft. "We're at one-hundred meters with another hundred to go, unless…"

  "Unless what?" wondered Sosimo.

  Jaiden, trying to make sense of readings never meant for a spaceborne craft, simply answered.

  "There's a hole."

  "There's a hole?"

  "There's a hole in the bottom of the sea."

  "What?" Sosimo asked.

  "We're above a… a shelf basically," Jaiden explained. "I'm reading a… well, a large hole in the shelf. If we move forward about a hundred meters, then we could go a lot deeper. Do you want to go, Captain?"

  Sosimo rested an elbow on the arm of his command chair and rubbed his chin mulling it over the decision.

  "No, better not. I've thought this out, and that's not part of the plan. Maintain course."

  "Captain?" the first officer asked, "How far do you think we'll have to go before their sensors can't detect us?"

  "I'm not sure," Sosimo answered. "Can you get any kind of reading from the surface?"

  Mei checked the equipment then answered while shaking her head.

  "It's all a blur. The sensors can't make heads or tails of anything."

  "Excellent," Sosimo chirped. "Jaiden, close the hatch, so no more water comes in the cargo bay. Let's hold position here."

  Jaiden tapped the controls to comply with the order, but half in the process of closing the bay's door mechanism shorted out.

  "Uh… Captain," he voiced concerned.

  "I see it. How fast are we going down?"

  "Too fast," Mei reported while urgently checking the readings. "Unless we slow down, we're going to slam on the bottom. It'll do some serious damage."

  "Don't worry," he assured everyone. "I thought of this. Reverse the ventilation in the bay. If we create enough pressure, it will push the water out."

  "Aye," Mei replied. "Reversing vents." Switching her console display to show a view of the cargo bay, Mei called out the progress. "It's having an effect, Captain. The rate of the water coming in is slowing, but we're still going down."

  "Do you want me to extend the landing gear?" Jaiden asked.

  "Negative," the captain answered. "It could get lodged in the sand."

  This statement made a thought occur to Mei. Switching the sensors to look below the ship, the incoming data confirmed her fear.

  "Captain, the bottom isn't sand - it's rocks. Hitting them at this speed will definitely penetrate the hull."

  "Blast," Sosimo groused. "Jaiden, fire the thrusters."

  "Underwater?" Jaiden asked as the ship plunged lower.

  "No time for questions. Fire the thrusters!"

  "Firing," he said hitting the activation switch.

  Bubbles belched from the down-facing nozzles, but no fire emerged.

  "Negative response," Jaiden quickly reported.

  "Mei, increase the mixture in the thruster combustion chamber," Sosimo ordered hurriedly.

  The woman's fingers danced over the controls as the ship rapidly plummeted toward the jagged sea floor.

  "Done," she said. "Try it again."

  Jaiden activated the thruster controls a second time. They flickered and died several times, but at last flamed to life. The fire in the water created a streaming frenzy of bubbles. Though slowing, the ship continued downward, finally came to a stop less than ten meters from the rock tips. Then the thrusters extinguished again. Everyone was holding their breath when the ship reached neutral buoyancy. After a moment LaRouche spoke.

  "There," the rouge stated with great satisfaction. "Let me know when the lightdrive engines are charged, and tell engineering to continue the repairs. No need to worry, everything's going just as I planned."

  Unsure about the truth of that statement, Jaiden looked to Mei for confirmation. She wasn't sure either, but the captain's contingency plans had stopped the ship. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged an unspoken maybe to the young navigator then went back to her work. Jaiden wondered if LaRouche was the craziest or the smartest man he had ever met. The more time he spent with the pirate, the more uncertain he was of the answer.

  ***

  At the United Realm shipyard in the Doneac system, the HMS Dauntless hung motionless in space as crews continued its extensive refit. Activating his thruster pack, a technician zoomed through the black of space and scaffolding that completely surrounding the ship's exposed skeletal frame. In the great vacuum, his flight was silent, but he could almost hear the buzz of activity while scores of repair teams feverishly repaired and significantly expanded the flagship. Activating the magnetic boots of his suit, he secured himself to the upper forward section of the mighty vessel.

  "You called for me, Sir?" he asked while using the proximity broadcast feature in his helmet.

  "Are you the spark chaser?" came the annoyed, gravelly voice of the section chief who kept his eyes on the datapad he held.

  "Yes, Sir - electrician second class Crawford."

  "Good," the bulky man acknowledged, continuing to visually ignore him. "We're ready to run the test on the prototype cannon. I need you to track any loss as it runs through the converter. See how much it can handle at the different settings."

  "Can do."

  "Soon as we terminate the test, dump your report in the folder labeled ‘J.O.B. install test alpha.' "

  "J-O-B.?"

  "Yea. It's what they're callin' this new contraption," gruffly answered the section chief. "Officially, it's the J.O.B one-twenty-one particle transfer cannon. The admiral's own design I hear."

  "The Admiral - as in Admiral Balin?"

  "Yea, old Johannes himself."

  "Johannes?"

  "Johannes Octavian Balin," the burly man explained while actually breaking a smile. "J-O-B. There's no time to stand around asking questions, we've got orders to get this bird ready double quick. We're activat'n the beam in three minutes, get mov'n."

>   "Aye, Sir."

  Relived to distance himself from the irritable man, Crawford thrustered down the length of the battlecarrier while glancing over at the adjacent space station where the admiral oversaw the project.

  In the executive briefing room of the station, Commodore Tom Upton, called everyone to attention as entered the fleet's barrel-chested, gray-bearded commander, Admiral Balin. Wasting no time on pleasantries, which he never cared for anyway, the head of the Realm fleet took his seat with the assembled senior officers following his lead.

  In somber monotone, he reported news that Hateeg forces had just launched an invasion of the Entauri Major system. The admiral's news brought mumbles and huffs from those around the table.

  "The Hateeg Confederacy has been gobbling up systems for thirty years now," one of the officers grumbled. "Why makes Entauri Major any different to us?"

  "Because King Lyons is there," Balin divulged causing a small collective gasp from those at the table.

  "But- I thought he was on his way back from the Assembly summit?" Colonel Ortiz questioned.

  "He was," Balin answered, "but when the assembly didn't grant us membership, His Majesty called for a secret meeting of worlds friendly to our cause. That meeting was held on Entauri Major. The queen mother is with him, and we just received her emergency distress signal."

  "What happened to his escorting ships?"

  Balin shook his head as he explained. "To keep a low profile, the escorts weren't in the system," he said. "The Entauri Cluster government has sent out a call asking the Assembly or any and all nations to aid them in repelling this invasion. The last thing I want to do is pick a fight with the Hateeg, but we must rescue the king."

  "Taking on the Ramillie and the Hateeg at the same time-" Ortiz sighed in thought of the desperateness of their situation. "They're the two biggest powers in the known galaxy. How are we going to do it, Admiral? How many ships are you sending?"

  Balin paused, knowing his answer was going to stun the group more than what he'd already told them.

  "First, the Realm's not entering a war with the Hateeg," Balin began. "This is going to be a simple rescue mission. We go in, get our people, and get out; that's all. To answer your second question, I'm sending all the ships needed to accomplish the mission." He quit speaking aloud, but held up a single finger and mouthed the word, "One."