A Greater Duty (Galaxy Ascendant Book 1)

by Yakov Merkin

  Nayasar was just getting the second body into the room when a slight sound drew her attention. A female Tehlman, probably some low level worker, had frozen at the other end of the hallway, eyes fixed on the still partially visible body. With barely a second to react, Nayasar whipped out her silenced pistol and shot the girl in the head. She could not let herself be discovered. Nayasar tossed the Tehlman’s body into the closet as well, then quickly slipped through the stairwell door. She walked down two flights, then exited onto the floor where the higher officials’ offices were located.

  Fortunately this floor as well was fairly empty; it was easy to avoid the few people walking through the hallway. She was easily able to pick out Rotam’s office from all the identical doors by the Legionnaires standing in front of it. There wouldn’t be any convenient place to hide the bodies, plus the sound as they fell would alert those inside the office to her presence.

  She needed a way to draw the guards away from the door. A small explosion wouldn’t work, because they’d just sound the alarm. She could try knocking one of the paintings off of the wall, but the guards could easily just ignore that, and doing so could reveal her presence. A plan came as a short Kareben official exited an office down the hall and began to walk in her direction.

  Nayasar quietly drew her pistol and moved back up the hallway, behind the Kareben, and shot him in the back at near point blank range. He screamed as he collapsed onto his back, and sure enough the guards ran to help as Nayasar moved past them, toward the office. For all they knew, he’d simply hurt himself or was suffering from some ailment.

  She wouldn’t have much time; they’d figure out fairly quickly that the man had been shot, but she only needed a few seconds to kill Rotam. And then, Nayasar said to herself as she forced the door open, it would be a simple matter to—

  She froze as she entered the room to see at least two dozen legionnaires leveling weapons at her. Rotam sat behind his desk, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. “We might as well drop all of the pretense, Felinaris. Reveal yourself.” When Nayasar did not immediately respond he added in his harsh, gravely voice, “Or I could just have you shot now.”

  Reluctantly, Nayasar did as ordered. She couldn’t fail. Not when she was this close.

  “Your helmet as well,” Rotam ordered. “And drop your weapons.”

  Nayasar threw her weapons to the floor, then paused for a moment, then removed her helmet and threw it at Rotam, who caught it and laughed. “Well I’ll be diced! If it isn’t the grand admiral herself! I couldn’t have hoped for better.” If Darvians had been capable of truly smiling, his would reach across his entire face.

  “It is fitting,” he continued, standing up, “that this confrontation would happen. When I heard that my… compatriots were dropping dead, I knew I would be the last one standing. I’m truly impressed, Nayasar—can I call you that? Referring to you by rank feels too impersonal. If someone had told me that in the span of less than two weeks that the people you killed would be killed, I would have said it was impossible, even after the war began.” Nayasar simply glared.

  “I understand why you’ve been doing what you’ve done, Nayasar, now more than ever. You want revenge on those who harmed your people. I find myself in a similar situation now. Do you know how many Darvians died when you invaded our homeworld? No, I don’t think you would. It makes the Selban deaths seem as insignificant as they truly are.”

  Nayasar growled, and was about to let fly a retort when she was cut off. “Yes, I know,” Rotam said, “the Darvian deaths were primarily military while those at Selban were not. I don’t see the difference. You Felinaris think so highly of yourselves, you look down on the rest of us and hoard a resource that should be shared by all. Not to mention that you made us look like fools during the Conflict, and when you were ejected from the Alliance.

  “I took a little solace in the loss at Darvia when I heard how many you lost, but it doesn’t balance out. If it were up to me, I’d turn your entire planet into a glass sphere. Unfortunately not everyone agrees with me, and with my own peoples’ fleet gone, there’s no hope of that now.” He paused, and walked closer to Nayasar, who tensed even further.

  “Stay back,” she snarled.

  “Or else what?” he asked with a shrug and continued. “When I learned what you were doing, I petitioned for another strike on your world. Unfortunately, that naïve fool Dalcon refused to condone it, and the chairman’s too busy fawning over him to listen to sense. But this, this will be revenge enough, especially considering who you are.” He moved closer, until he was standing over Nayasar. Rotam was not a particularly large Darvian, but he still towered over Nayasar. She kept herself straight, staring him in the eye, though she couldn’t fully hide the fear she felt. She did not want to die, least of all by his hand.

  “How does it feel to have failed so close to your goal?” he asked. “This is so much more satisfying than simply shooting you on sight would have been.”

  Nayasar spat in his face. He was getting nothing from her.

  Rotam’s eyes narrowed and he punched Nayasar in the stomach hard enough to send her to the floor and make her eyes start to water, even with the armor protecting her from the worst of it. “Get up.” He ordered, and Nayasar found herself complying. This couldn’t be happening. Images of Selban flashed before her eyes. She was going to fail them again. And again the Alliance, this time the legionnaires, would let the enemy do whatever they wanted.

  “I know what I’ll do,” Rotam said. He reached down and picked up one of Nayasar’s long knives. It looked so small in his hand. “It’d be a shame to ruin such a pretty face,” he said as he ran a hand over the side of Nayasar’s face. She flinched away at the contact. She had to kill him. Somehow, whatever else happened.

  “I think I’ll keep the head for myself, mount it on a wall with my other hunting trophies, and send the rest back to Felinar.” Nayasar had a short blade in the sole of her boot, which she could deploy with a mechanical switch. She would have to be quick though; the legionnaires would fire quickly

  “After sending the images across the commNet, of course,” Rotam continued. “You think the old king would like that?” The only question was whether she could do enough damage in time. Darvians were notoriously resilient, she couldn’t die for nothing.

  Nayasar closed her eyes for a few seconds in a fruitless attempt to hold back the tears. I’m sorry, she said to the dead of Selban, that I failed to properly avenge you. And I’m sorry, Felivas. I should have listened. She tried to formulate an apology to her father, but no words came. She couldn’t imagine how broken he would be. She hoped that Darkclaw succeeded in his own mission, but she couldn’t think of words to express how sorry she was at how she had acted toward him. All she could say was the short prayer to the Omnipresent that one said when they stared death in its ugly face; acknowledgment of the Omnipresent’s power and oneness, and a pledge of loyalty to the last breath.

  When she opened her eyes, the son of a kerakhi Rotam was resting the blade on the side of her neck. He looked into her eyes, then pulled his arm back to swing. Nayasar prepared her only option and prepared for death.

  Then the power in the room went dark. Nayasar could feel her armor’s temperature control system shut down and saw that the legionnaires were taking off their helmets and staring at their weapons.

  Then a flying blade hit one in the face, and he fell to the floor. Nayasar seized the moment, deployed the blade, and funneled all her rage into one strike. She hit Rotam square in the chest. He let out a gasping breath and stumbled back, and Nayasar grabbed her weapon from his filthy hand and swung at his throat. He just barely managed to pull out of the way, but Nayasar lunged forward and neatly slit his throat with the tip of the blade on the backswing. As fatal a wound as one could hope for, even on a Darvian.

  Nayasar stared down at her enemy as he fell to the ground, gurgling and huge hands grasping helplessly at his throat. She ignored the shouts and cries of pain around her as she watched Rot
am struggle and die slowly, painfully.

  When the Darvian finally took his last, pitiful breath a few minutes later, Nayasar smiled. It was done. Everything would be fine now. But the images of Selban didn’t go away. No! This was the end!

  But as the haze of her anger and the focus from her mission left, suddenly all Nayasar could feel was despair. Along with the faces of the Selban dead, she now saw others: the family of Biram and Vumir ren Talbin, the nameless security guards, the Tehlman woman, the Kareben… what had she become in the pursuit of this goal? She hadn’t been abandoned by her team, she had abandoned everyone: the fleet, Darkclaw, Felivas.

  She sank to her knees as she looked around the room. The legionnaires lay scattered about, and with their helmets mostly gone Nayasar could see their faces. They were barely adults, and now they were gone. Then she saw a Felinaris body lying still on the ground, with two other Felinaris crouched around it. Nayasar caught a glimpse of the face and her heart nearly stopped. Kiari. She wanted to scream, to cry, but nothing came. Nayasar buried her face in her hands and let herself fall to the floor next to Rotam’s body.

  Seconds later she felt her self being helped off the floor, and Nayasar looked up and behind her to see Felivas, his worried. “Are you alright?” he asked frantically.

  Nayasar let herself collapse against him. “No,” she said.

  “You’re bleeding!” he exclaimed suddenly.

  Really? She hadn’t noticed. Nayasar put a hand to the side of her neck where Rotam had rested her own weapon and felt the blood. It was barely a scratch.

  “What have I become?” she said dully. “Have I become like them?” Was she as bad as her enemies if she would kill innocents who were simply in her way? And she had led her own friend to her death. “It didn’t fix everything,” she cried. “All it did was cause more death.”

  “It’s okay, Nayasar,” Felivas replied, holding her against him. “It’s over. But we have to get out, now. I was able to get Darkclaw to send in a small force to distract the Legion Navy so we could slip through. The others who could travel made a distraction for us across the city, but we don’t have much time. Mir will have the Harbinger now, above the building.” He helped Nayasar to her feet, but she still leaned against him.

  Her eyes turned back to Kiari’s motionless form. Beautiful, crazy Kiari, gone because of her own actions. “We can’t leave her here!” Nayasar practically shouted.

  “We don’t leave anyone behind,” Felivas said.

  The next few minutes passed in a blur. Nayasar was only semi-aware as Felivas and the others who had come got everyone back up through the building, fighting their way through the few soldiers and guards they came across, and finally reached the outside.

  Then they were in the familiar safety of the Harbinger, flying away from Dorandor as the ships Darkclaw had sent as a distraction floated, destroyed around them, the few survivors limping away. How many Tyrannodons had Darkclaw sacrificed to save her? Was she worth so much? Why did she get to live when so many didn’t?

  As the Harbinger made the jump to hyperspace, Nayasar’s senses began to return, but she felt so tired. The last sight she saw was Felivas looking at her as she rested against him. There was something worth living for. And she wouldn’t waste what she had, ever again. “I love you,” she breathed as she fell into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

  CHAPTER 26

  The High Lord, master of the Tyrannodons, indestructible, the greatest power in the galaxy stared at the space before him. He looked out the window of his throne room at the galaxy before him, all its stars ripe for the taking, as he had been created to do. The first step to his conquest of all space. Now that his power was finally fully rejuvenated from the unusually taxing act of creation—crafting the flagship Hudecar—it was time for all to see him and despair. Darkclaw and his fleet, plus their useful allies would be arriving at the central world of the Alliance at any moment. But the battle would be his alone to fight.

  The High Lord let his mind and body connect to the higher realm of existence, the one that few knew existed, but connected all things. It spread the galaxy before him like a map. He could travel anywhere he wished, instantly, by simply tapping into the energy that bound the universe together. He could travel to any of the seventy-two densely inhabited planets within the sovereign space of this so-called Alliance, and bring them all to their knees. But Darkclaw had done most of that for him already, giving him the time he needed to rejuvenate his power. The central world, Dorandor, was in essence all that remained. The High Lord selected the world he wanted and began to draw himself toward it, the black of space folding around him. It was time for all to witness his might.

  * * *

  Nayasar had just finished pulling on her combat suit when Felivas entered the room.

  “You sure you’re okay?” he asked. “The truth.”

  “The truth? Not fully. But I will be where I am needed now, to do my duty. Today will decide the fate of our people, and I’d rather fight to save them than avenge them. We both saw how well that turned out. It’s what Kiari would want.” Nayasar closed her eyes and forced herself to keep from dwelling on the disastrous result of her ill-advised action. She understood things better now. “And my people need to see me leading again.” It was in truth them, more than anyone else, that she had to apologize to.

  “Just, just be careful,” Felivas said softly as he walked over to her. “I’ve almost lost you twice in the span of a week. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Nayasar reached over and hugged him. “You would endure and press on. It’s what you’ve always done. I should have paid more attention. But don’t worry, I plan on staying alive.”

  “I want more than that,” Felivas said with uncharacteristic force. “I need a guarantee that you’ll come back to me.” He reached into a pocket of his armor and pulled out a small box. Nayasar’s heart skipped a beat. Was he going to?

  “Nayasar, my shining star,” he said, grasping her right hand with his free hand. With the other he presented the box. She reached out and held his hand in hers—everyone knew the motions. “Will you marry me?” Felivas asked, and opened the box, revealing the golden ring and claw cover inside.

  “Yes, of course I will,” Nayasar said breathlessly. When had her heart started to race?

  Felivas let go of her hand, then took the ring from the box and slid it onto the first finger of her right hand. Then he took the claw cover out of the box as Nayasar let go of his hand, and placed it over the claw on the first finger of her left hand, symbolizing that he would never leave either of her hands empty.

  That done, they grasped each other’s arms and rested their heads against one another. “I’ll always come back to you,” Nayasar said.

  “And I will always be by your side,” Felivas replied.

  They remained as they were for a few more minutes, just savoring each other’s company, before an alarm began to sound, signifying that the fleet would be coming out of hyperspace in ten minutes.

  “You’d best get ready,” Nayasar said. “You’ve got to get to your ship once we get there, Admiral.”

  “As you command,” Felivas said without a hint of sarcasm. “See you on the ground.”

  “Whoever gets there last has to make the official announcement,” Nayasar quipped.

  Felivas laughed. “I’ll hold you to that.” He saluted, then left the room.

  Once he was gone, Nayasar sat down, to slow her heart rate down. She looked at both her hands to make sure she hadn’t been dreaming. No, the ring and claw cover were still there.

  Nayasar looked up, toward the Omnipresent—though everyone knew that His presence was everywhere, people still generally looked up when thinking of Him. They would succeed today. There was no other possibility.

  * * *

  In all likelihood, Darkclaw thought as the Hudecar dropped out of hyperspace, they would fail. There were far too many things that had to go right: The High Lord had to be kept from discovering th
e plot, the seeker had to work as Darkclaw thought—hoped might be a better term—it would, and Dalcon would have to survive to use it.

  Plus, there were more immediate concerns, such as the entirety of the Galactic Alliance’s defenses; the Legion Navy, the rest of the Talvostan and Irhani naval forces, and whatever else they’d been able to scrape together. All the strength they had left lay before him, thanks to Darkclaw telling Dalcon his plan. Whatever happened, this battle would be a disaster. He did not doubt that he could win it, but it would not be easy, and too many would die. And if the High Lord truly did partake in the fleet battle, the enemy would be wiped out, which would make peace even more difficult.

  He had crafted a basic plan of attack, but Darkclaw hoped he would not need to truly implement it. Optimally, the High Lord would come, fight, and be destroyed before too much damage was done.

  But for now, the High Lord had not yet arrived, and the enemy fleet, nearly 8,000 ships strong, was still waiting for him, in addition to countless orbital defense platforms.

  Darkclaw converted the command deck to its fleet command mode, and ordered all ships to advance. He had opted to hold nothing in reserve apart from ten battlegroups that had just been completed at Selixan Station, particularly after he had sacrificed over one hundred ships to help rescue Nayasar. Was it worth it? The different sides of him would disagree. But Darkclaw hoped that after today, one of those sides would be gone forever.

  As the Tyrannodon and Snevan ships advanced directly toward the enemy line, the Felinaris fleet flew below, to engage the weaker Legion Navy defenses at the bottom of their formation. It would hopefully lead to a slower-paced battle, buying time until the High Lord showed up—an explanation which would suit the High Lord just fine.