Arriving at the ship just before the landing platform touched the ground, she tried to jump in, but just couldn’t. Her legs were quickly turning into spaghetti. She had mere seconds to get into the cockpit before they were useless, and her only adrenaline dosage was gone. She leaned forward, forcing her momentum to keep her moving, despite bumping into the walls of the corridor.
She made it… to the back of her seat. Out the front she could see soldiers and vehicles charging toward her. They were just moments away from opening fire. Jude pulled herself forward with her hands until she was leaning up against her armrest. Then she rolled into her chair, slapping her hands down on the controls to power up. There wasn’t time to go through the whole drill; she just started lifting off as soon as the thrusters were fully engaged.
The corporate troopers opened fire, their rifle shots pinging off the hull like rain drops; though one of them could get a lucky hit and damage her enough to take the Desert Rose down. A couple of the vehicles, however, had weapons powerful enough to blast sections off of her ship. She fired first, hitting close enough to cause the driver of one of armored cars to re-evaluate the situation and drive away.
One of the other vehicles hit. The shot blew a chunk out of the hull on the port side, but luckily didn’t damage any vital system. Jude struggled to keep the Desert Rose steady, and began to fly forward, over the troops.
There were now more elite syndicate forces arriving quickly from the badlands to shoot her down, but there was a large chunk of them that were still near the hotel, backing up the others and keeping an eye in case more came out. Jude buzzed over them, dipping her thrusters and increasing their power to send the troops tumbling. Those still on their feet chased after while the oncoming vehicles fired at the ship. She dodged and weaved, resisting the temptation to go too fast for fear they would give up on her and turn their attention back on the hotel.
As she got to a safe distance, she turned around and strafed the ground near the shooters, dipping only momentarily before bouncing upward again, juking, but keeping their attention.
Little Jack and Lancaster emerged from the hotel while their attention was turned. The two men were stumbling; though Lancaster, the more wounded, was ahead. He was determined to get Mika to safety as quickly as possible.
Just as they reached the tarmac, they got the attention of one of the commanders, who shouted for his unit to turn toward them and fire. Lancaster didn’t stop. He didn’t even look around. He charged toward the ship while Little Jack drew his weapons and fired on the move, knocking some of the laser blasts out of the air.
When one of these blasts deflected into the coolant system of a parked ship, steam blew out and obscured the area. Little Jack took that opportunity to holster one weapon and press a button on his keychain, opening the ramp of the ship. As he was doing this, a lucky shot smacked him in the shoulder. Roaring in frustrated pain, Little Jack returned to firing at the shots coming at him, deflecting those that might hit.
Lancaster picked up Mika, uncertain whether she was still alive, and jumped onto the ramp before it was fully open. He dashed up inside and hurried toward the miniature medical bay.
Little Jack backed up toward his ship, firing at the blasts. But the enemies were pushing in past the steam, and some were coming from another direction, so it was time to escape. He turned and ran, weaving as he went to better his chances. Little Jack pressed the button again and the ramp began to close. He jumped inside just as it was nearing the top.
The syndicate and corporate forces continued to try to hit a sensitive spot in Odin’s Revenge. They managed to blast away parts of the hull that should expose vital parts of the engine. But one of the alterations Little Jack had made to his ship was to rearrange where critical systems were located for this very reason.
He fired back… or rather, he fired at other ships the soldiers were near. These luxurious yachts blew apart from the blasts of his cannon, their debris crashing among the troopers. Under this cover, Little Jack lifted off as quickly as he could.
Lancaster was just strapping Mika into the medical bed at that moment. The sudden jolts in their motion caused him to slip and nearly fall across the room. But he held onto the controls with one hand while he pushed Mika into place with the other. As the ship turned one way, then the other, then lurched forward, he continued to hold on with his legs and one hand. His other hand had to keep Mika on the bed while he pressed the buttons to strap her in place.
When it felt like they were rising into the sky, Lancaster risked using both hands to rip open the part of her shirt where the wound had been made. He locked his feet under the bed while he did this, and hoped the two of them would not be flown into the ceiling with a barrel roll.
As he was tearing the shirt, Mika’s torso shot off the bed. This was not from the ship shaking, she was going into cardiac arrest. A gasping noise came from her mouth, though her eyes were still closed. The rest of her body tensed. Lancaster could do nothing but close the plastic bubble around her.
As the cover moved, the ship suddenly lurched left. Lancaster lost his grip and fell, hitting the counter with his waist and cracking the mirror with his head.
“Hang on,” came the voice of Little Jack over the speaker.
“Real useful information,” Lancaster muttered. He could hear how slurred his speech was, and he noticed that his vision was blurry. He had trouble focusing on any one thing, and he began to grow dizzy.
But he couldn’t strap in; nor could he allow himself to go unconscious. The dome over the medical bed was now closed, but he had to flip some switches to make the machine do its job. As the room began to twist again and gravity pulled Lancaster in another direction, he gauged the distance to the console. It was only a couple meters, but it felt like a mile.
He planted one foot ahead of the other, taking careful steps toward it, but then the ship twisted and turned another direction, and Lancaster was thrown around.
“If you aren’t strapped in, do it now,” Little Jack said.
Lancaster cursed Little Jack’s timing. But he also knew that when he said that specific statement, it meant he was about to hit the thrusters and/or do something dramatic that would send him flying if he wasn’t secured. But Lancaster eyed the medical bed. It wasn’t operating; it wasn’t healing Mika, and she would be dead in a minute, if not seconds.
The room was spinning in both reality and his head. Everything blurred in threes. But he used a few seconds to concentrate, taking in a breath, bringing it all together into one cohesive whole. The room was still spinning, but it was reality, not his head wound. Lancaster sprinted for the machine, slammed his palm down on a button and flipped two switches.
The room yanked backward and the thrusters engaged to full. Lancaster fell backward, his head hitting the wall, and his last thought before he fell unconscious was that he was supposed to flip three switches to make the bed do what it needed to do.
Chapter
Nine
Escalation
Colonel Emery strode up the stairs to the central platform of the park. Each step took extra work as the gravity was heavier here than on most planets. Emery saw it as an opportunity to work his leg muscles, and made sure not to slow down. He knew that his soldiers would be having to fight under this harsher condition, so he counted on their multi-planetary training to see them through. The enemy was either from this planet, or had been here for a while, so they were used to the weight on their bodies.
Emery’s staff already had his command center set up, complete with the Gerhelm banner flying a couple stories high. The corporations fighting under them were also flying their colors, though they were lower than their leader’s. Emery’s top aid also bore a flag, attached to a pack on his back, as did one representative of each corporation at the headquarters.
Tables, chairs, and charts stood about for reference, as did communication equipment. Emery kept his Relics chart close; it was hard to keep track of what old alien artifacts had been repur
posed lately to serve their cause.
The tactical table was in the middle. The frame arched over the middle both for shade and to hide it from prying eyes. In the center was a screen that had an updated map of the city, and positions of all known units. Heights of buildings were represented by slight holographic rises over the screen. It presented cautiously optimistic news for Emery.
Hedrix Hegemony had dug into several blocks of ruins that were created by mass bombardment. They were holding their own for the moment, but they were giving up all the initiative. They were also lower in number than Gerhelm. Only a couple of their corporations were able to set up a defense in the first place on this planet; the rest of them being scattered across worlds they had believed Gerhelm more likely to attack, or joining Navarus forces for an invasion of their own.
They had offered a truce a couple of times, and would likely have surrendered, but Gerhelm’s commander had not accepted it. This wasn’t an invasion; it was a punitive expedition for daring to turn on Gerhelm, and choose Navarus over them. Hedrix had turned to Navarus because they believed they would ultimately be more prosperous. But Navarus had refused to send any aid as Pherada was being conquered.
Gerhelm’s biggest advantage was in knowing what Hedrix would do. While allied with them, they had extracted tactical information and what sorts of extraterrestrial property they had.
Emery didn’t have a lot of orders at the moment. Divinity Corp’s 3rd Division and Korono Corp’s 49th Division had pockets of enemies contained. Xusk Corp was using their drones to support Korono’s 53rd and Tes Company in their slow push forward, utilizing the weaknesses they knew their enemy had. For now, mostly, Emery took in information.
“You don’t want to give away the initiative, even if it costs you some drones,” said a nearby voice.
Emery turned toward it, and was appalled to see an older, out of shape, bearded man sitting on a bench right next to where the cement platform turned into a mossy knoll with the occasional tree whose branches hung deep from the heavy gravity. “Who is this man, and how did no one spot him?” Emery demanded.
No one on his staff tried to answer; they just closed in on the lone man on the bench; weapons ready.
The bearded man now turned toward Emery, unconcerned about the rifles pointed at him, and continued, “Divinity has a company three blocks beyond the others. It can swing around and cut off the enemy forces with a nove defensive posture…”
“Divinity is containing an enemy regiment in the lifestyles district, and how do you sav these positions…”
“You can contain them with a third of the forces. They’re commanded by Major Kedy. You need only say boo and she’ll hide under her shell.”
“How did you penetrate our lines?” Emery asked.
The bearded man looked around them with a baffled expression. “I didn’t penetrate anything. You came into the park where I was relaxing.”
“Something tells me that’s not a coincidence.”
The bearded man shrugged as if an admission.
“Who are you?” Emery asked.
The bearded man stood, his stature switching to one of a proud bearing, and he said, “My name is Galek Tito Don Yera Navarus, and I need to meet with your commander, General Daragor Yusof Von Astra Eudosic.”
At the mention of the old man’s name, the troops readied their weapons, all of them prepared to fire at the slightest command. But Colonel Emery did not give it. He looked carefully at Galek, studying him. He had never met the man, but he had certainly seen images of him. He had been in charge of the barony they were presently fighting until his daughter had overthrown him. Galek had disappeared after escaping prison.
These were all events of galactic proportions. Could the vanquished baron truly be standing before him? And if so, what to do with him? Colonel Emery had won battles, ordered soldiers to their doom, rescued entire cities, and destroyed others. And yet he had never felt more powerful than he did right now.
“Check him thoroughly for weapons,” Emery said. “And get my transport.”
Daragor Eudosic looked over the holographic battlefield with envy. He would rather be in the boots of his subordinates; leading assaults through cities, dislodging enemies from buildings, swooping in after the first wave drones to mop up what they had missed. The heat of battle pumped up his adrenaline and made him feel alive… but it did something even more important. It gave him solidarity with the men and women in his command.
Watching the digital dots on the map did not do it justice. Sure, they were all fed into the system by updated sensor reports, so the troops were where they were reported to be; but this was sanitized. No computerized report could properly convey the loud and repetitive noise of shots, explosions, screams and orders. Nor could it describe the smell of heat that built up around the weapons, the dull smoke of smoldering ashes, and the sulfuric smell of decaying bodies.
Most importantly, it could not convey the insubstantial feeling a commander has when connected to the fight. It’s like an energy in the air created by the input of all the combined senses. While in tune with this energy, a commander could feel what needs to be done next; whether to pull back, to maneuver, exactly when to assault, etc.
Watching a hologram from the safety of a bunker near the back provided none of this information. It did, however, provide important data of the larger picture from a bird’s eye view. So Daragor remained and sent orders through his communications system, leaving a lot of leeway to his commanders in the field who knew how to tap into the energy waves of a battle.
He did not have time for guests, but when he heard that Galek Navarus was being brought to him, he made a little bit of time.
Daragor was dressed in his golden-laced armor. Though less effective in combat, it served a great purpose in social situations where success was measured in what a person wore. He stood before the elevator, sticking out his chest toward the doorway. One of his officers had called to him and told him they were on their way up. He was overcompensating. Somewhere deep inside him, Daragor was actually nervous. He had not seen Galek since he and his sister were married. Since then he had built up his corporate empire, then let it slip far enough to be taken over by his daughter.
What sort of a man would he have been turned into? And what had he become since disappearing? And most of all, why would he come here? His last thought blurted out of his mouth just as the lift doors opened revealing Galek in the center of four guards and an officer, all with weapons drawn and leveled on him: “What makes you think I won’t execute you right now?”
All of the guards in the elevator were surprised by the greeting. If Daragor wanted someone killed, he would typically give the order over the communicator. Strangely, only Galek remained un-phased. His face was serene, like a man who had just let out a long sigh. He said, “You will do whatever you do, Daragor Eudosic, son of Loreli and Gustavo. But if you don’t kill me now, I need you to do something for me.”
Daragor stared at him a moment, considering. He could feel how close his hand was to his pistol on his hip.
Galek took the initiative and marched toward him, hands still bound. The guards, again taken by surprise, had to hurry to catch up. “I must speak with your sister. Dozens of systems and all their holdings depend on it.”
Daragor held out one hand and rested his other hand on his holstered pistol. Galek obeyed, but he kept the initiative, saying, “I can help bring peace to this conflict.”
“What if Rezia doesn’t want an end to the conflict? What if she’s profiting from it?”
“There is no long-term profit for those fighting,” Galek said. “Only those selling to them.”
“Yet here we are on a world that we will now control,” Daragor argued.
“If you hold it, you will pay more for its repair than it makes in four years. But even that’s a big if. You’re trying to take the cities with their hidden orbital defenses because you know that Hedrix is calling for support from their allies. They will have an a
rmada together any time now. And when they get here, the defenders will reveal those PDSs and open up on your fleet, and you’ll be lucky to get your troops off the planet in time.”
Daragor did not answer right away. Galek was correct in his assessment. It was the reason they had put so much into the land invasion rather than relying more heavily on an orbital bombardment. They needed to secure their position on the planet to hold it; then use the planetary defense systems to help win against the inevitable counterattack. The one thing Galek didn’t seem to understand was that the attack was not for financial gain, but to drive fear into those who would try to betray them again. This did not have a price tag, and the former corporate baron knew that. Why he was pretending not to was still a mystery.
But Daragor decided to change the subject and take the initiative by asking a question of his own. “Where have you been, Galek?”
“I’ve been going places you never visit, meeting people you never see,” Galek said. “I’ve aprended a lot. You’ve achieved what you set out for, I see.”
Galek looked over the general’s armor as Daragor grinned proudly. “I am serving as Regent Apprentice of our house and empire.”
“Empire now,” Galek said.
“Like your daughter, we’ve recognized that our reign has outgrown the title of barony. It is an empire.”
“My generation had used the word barony as a way to recognize each other’s sovereignty. To say that none of us was searching for overall dominance.”
“We all seek dominance, Don Navarus. My generation does so out of the shadows.”
“But your father still rules.”
Daragor squirmed slightly as he admitted, “He does.”
“And how does he title the incorporation?” Daragor tried to repost the jab. He was still searching for words when Galek asked, “And what of Rezia? Was she in distress when she was returned to your family?”
Relic Worlds - Lancaster James & the Salient Seed of the Galaxy, Part 2 Page 7
