Kill the Queen! (Chaos of the Covenant Book 4)

by M. R. Forbes

  KILL THE QUEEN!

  CHAOS OF THE COVENANT, BOOK FOUR

  M.R. FORBES

  Published by Quirky Algorithms

  Seattle, Washington

  This novel is a work of fiction and a product of the author’s imagination.

  Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by M.R. Forbes

  All rights reserved.

  Cover illustration by Tom Edwards

  tomedwardsdesign.com

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  THANK YOU for staying with the series, and grabbing Kill the Queen! There’s some crazy stuff going on inside, and I hope you love where the story is headed. Your continued support is immensely appreciated. Thank you again.

  THANK YOU to my beta readers for getting Kill the Queen! vetted so efficiently, and helping me to present the cleanest copy I can.

  THANK YOU always to my wife, who I know will always be my biggest fan.

  1

  Gloritant Salvig Thraven’s eyes narrowed as the Nephilim warship slowed from FTL, the familiar haze of gaseous discharge from the disterium fading away as the ship passed beyond it.

  “Raise shields,” he said immediately.

  “Yes, Gloritant,” Honorant Lu replied.

  A moment later, debris began striking the shields, sending up brief flares of energy around them as the larger pieces were deflected away.

  A mess. A disturbing mess. He could see the surface below through the bits and pieces of metal that had been caught in the planet’s orbit. He could see the black and brown splotches, the smoldering remains of what had been a fleet of starships a week ago. He could even make out the frames of the dark, dead warships that had been brought down on top of the others, used as missiles to impact the site.

  Only the Ophanim could have done this.

  Only with the Focus.

  He had considered that Cage might send her team to Kell to launch an assault on his base. He had even left behind an added line of defense, in the form of the powerful warships whose designs had been provided by the Father and verified by the Fire and the Brimstone.

  While she had managed to steal the latter out from under him, and while he had thought that perhaps they would succeed in destroying some of his assets, he had expected to return to Kell to find pieces of the Brimstone and a fleet still preparing for war.

  This was not even close to that.

  “How?” he said out loud. “How does this happen?”

  He could feel the Gift within him, pulsing so strongly he could barely contain it. He had remained in the Font for days, recovering from the wounds Cage and the Seraphim bitch had given him on Azure. He had taken his time, secure that his forces could stand up to a single ship when he had left six of them behind.

  Six against one, and that wasn’t including the un-augmented defenses in orbit around the planet, of which there should have been more than enough. Obviously, General Kett’s forces had fled the Bain System and traveled directly here. Kett had helped Cage with the assault and used the Focus to bring down at least two of the craft. But if the other ships had survived, there was no way the General would have had the chance.

  What had happened?

  He clenched his teeth, feeling the low growl escaping through them. It was the only sound on the suddenly tense and frightened bridge.

  “Prepare a Shrike,” he said. “I’m going down.”

  The Immolent shifted beside him.

  “Alone,” Thraven said. “There’s nothing down there. Nothing.” He spat the last word, slamming his hand on the side of the command chair.

  “It will be done, Gloritant,” Honorant Lu said, turning to the comm to send the instructions to the hangar.

  Thraven stood. “Move us into orbit.”

  “Yes, your Eminence.”

  He had known something was wrong when there had been no word from the High Honorant. Even so, he hadn’t been expecting anything of this magnitude. He hadn’t been expecting to arrive here and find his entire fleet gone. He had started with nearly one hundred ships. Now only the four in his retinue remained.

  Certainly, he could get more resources from the Extant, but he wasn’t going to do that. It would be an embarrassment to send word back that he had failed with the assets he had been given. Years of building his reputation, years of earning the faith of his followers would be sacrificed in an instant.

  Besides, it wasn’t over yet. He had heard from Evolent Ruche. The Republic Council was his. So was the Committee. He would begin the process to start shifting assets and separating those who were loyal to him from those who weren’t. He would use the might of the Republic to hunt down whatever remained of General Kett’s militia. He would find Kett again, and this time the General wouldn’t have his wife or Cage to protect him.

  The Focus would be his, one way or another.

  Then they could begin preparing for the real war.

  “Lu, you have the bridge,” he said, turning and storming away.

  He was overcoming his initial reaction to the damage, but that hadn’t cooled his fury. Even if this loss would mean little in the end, it was still a loss. His second in a row.

  He didn’t like to lose.

  He reached the hangar, climbing into the waiting Shrike and leaving the warship behind. Now that it was his flagship, he would have to give it a name. Later. He navigated through the debris field, using the Gift to help push some of the larger pieces that the Shrike’s shields couldn’t handle away. Within minutes the Shrike was on the ground outside of the main control complex. He climbed out, surveying the scene. The building was hardened and had survived the impact. Not much else had. Pieces of the unfinished ships were dug into the ground around him. There was debris everywhere. He found the scarred remains of a Crescent Hauler shuttle upended against the side of the building, blocking the entrance.

  He reached out with the Gift, lifting it and moving it aside, putting it back upright onto its landing pads. It was bent and battered and torn. Pallimo would be very unhappy to see one of his assets involved in something like this.

  He moved past it, into the building. He entered the lift tube, pushing himself up it with the Gift until he reached the control center. He eyed the room. Dead technicians surrounded the electronics. Some of them had been moved aside, as though Evolent Firsk had been looking for something or someone.

  He found the Evolent’s remains, his head removed. The Ophanim had been inside the building. They had come to the surface. To free the prisoners? It was likely. It was also likely they had taken some of the ships.

  Thraven made his way to one of the terminals and activated it. He checked the security of their data storage first. It was intact. No Breakers had been to Kell. Not when Cage was on Azure. The Covenant was safe. He unlocked the terminal, locating the feeds to the real facility, the hidden complex where the Kell Cartel had once kept their illegal trade. It was empty. Abandoned. In his failure, the High Honorant had fled, the other Lessers fleeing with him.

  Cowards. They would be found. His Children were everywhere.

  He switched to the comm. The building’s link was down, but he was able to redirect it through the main compound’s array.

  “Don Pallimo,” he said.

  As one of the Crescent Hauler’s best customers, he had a direct link to the company’s owner.

  The Lesser’s projection appeared a moment later, cast amidst the damaged room. The Don was older, with a thick head of white hair and an easy, pleasant face. He was smiling as he glanced beyond Thraven to the damage around the room.

  “General Thraven,” he said. “Contacting me from a war zo
ne? Do you have salvage you need moved?”

  “Not yet,” Thraven replied. “I have another concern, which I thought you would be interested in.”

  He leaned over the terminal, finding the camera that looked down on the outside of the building and transmitting the feed to Pallimo.

  “That’s one of mine,” the Don said.

  “I know. I also know where it came from.”

  “Feru?” Pallimo said.

  “Yes. I know you’ve put out a bounty for information on the responsible party. I don’t need your money, but I do have information.”

  “I would be most grateful for anything you can provide me, General. The loss of the Devastator is a black eye on my entire empire. If individuals can’t trust the Haulers with their most precious cargo, the entire system will begin to erode.”

  “Of course. That’s why I wanted to share what I know with you. Eight weeks ago, a group of convicts were broken out of a Republic military prison.”

  “You mean Hell? Yeah, I heard about that.”

  Thraven held his expression. He had? How? They had cleaned up that mess as quickly as possible. No one was supposed to still be alive who knew anything about it, save Cage and the escapees themselves. And Captain Mann. He had been frustrated by the news that the former Director of the OSI had apparently escaped.

  “They’ve been causing a lot of problems for the Outworlds,” Thraven said. “And for you. I know for a fact they were responsible for the Devastator, just as they were responsible for the damage you see here.”

  “Mother fraggers,” Pallimo said.

  “Yes,” Thraven agreed. “I’ve managed to track down one of them to the Bain System, a planet called Azure. I’ve already dispatched some units of my own to take care of her, but my resources are currently stretched to the limit.”

  “You’re asking me for backup?” Pallimo said.

  “I’m presenting you with information. What you do with that information is up to you, Don Pallimo. The fact is that the former Lieutenant Abigail Cage is extremely well-trained and incredibly dangerous. I can’t guarantee that the units I was able to spare are capable of containing her.”

  “I understand, General. If you can send me the coordinates, I’ll take care of the problem.”

  “Of course,” Thraven replied. “Just let me warn you again not to underestimate her, Don Pallimo.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I intend to spend as much as needed to have her head delivered to me on a fragging platinum plate. What about the rest of the cons?”

  “They’ve separated from Lieutenant Cage; however, I do have the identifiers for the star hopper they stole. I’ll send them along as well.”

  “Excellent. Thank you, General. If your leads work out, I’ll give you a year of free hauling.”

  “No repayment is necessary.”

  “Bullshit. Someone does you a favor; you do something back. That’s how it works. You’re going to hurt my feelings if you refuse.”

  Thraven forced a smile. “Of course. As you say.”

  The link disconnected. Thraven’s smile vanished instantly. The Don was smarter than most of the Lessers he had been forced to deal with, but he was still inferior, and coming down to that level always left him feeling stained.

  “Honorant Lu,” Thraven said.

  “Yes, Gloritant,” Lu answered immediately.

  “Send a unit to the main facility to begin data transfer and wiping procedures. Make sure they are armed. If you find anyone alive in there, kill them.”

  “Yes, Gloritant.”

  “Send another unit to survey the area and determine if anything can be salvaged. I abhor waste.”

  “Yes, Gloritant.”

  “Also, send a message to Venerant Elivee and Venerant Koy. I want them to join the hunt for Cage on Azure.”

  “Yes, Gloritant.”

  Thraven closed the link, looking out of the building and back to his ruined fleet. Perhaps he was getting carried away with his efforts to rid himself of Cage? He didn’t care. She was the cause of this destruction. Destruction that he had inadvertently brought down on himself when he sent Clyo to give her the Gift. She had refused him. She had stabbed him.

  He reached up and rubbed at the scars her claws had left on his neck.

  She had to die.

  2

  Olus opened his eyes. He gazed at the ceiling for a few seconds, trying to remember where he was. Then he lifted his hands, bringing them in front of his face. He stared at them as though they didn’t belong to him.

  Then he sat straight up, shifting in the bed, pulling aside the sheets and getting to his feet. He expected to feel sore, but he didn't. He expected to feel tired, but he didn’t. He padded across the floor to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He stared at his face.

  Did he look younger?

  The door opened in the room outside.

  “Captain Mann?” a female voice said.

  “One moment,” Olus replied.

  He found a robe and slid it on before emerging.

  The woman was tall and lean, with rich dark hair that fell across her left breast over her shoulder. Her eyes dug into him, as though she was measuring every line and wrinkle.

  “It’s time,” she said.

  It took him a few seconds to remember. The last week had been a blur from the moment he had fallen into Dilixix’s arms. The Plixian had given him pills, pills that contained a concentrated form of what he had later learned was called the Blood of the Shard, a cocktail of molecule-sized machines that had been invented by the… He paused. The what? God? Alien? Something. The woman in front of him, Pahaliah, had told him she was a descendant of the Seraphim, and her kind had helped create all of the life in this universe. These machines had helped them to do it.

  And now they were inside of him, multiplying, feeding, and working. They had protected him from the fires of the Nephilim. They had healed his injured leg and shoulder. They had taken ten years off his face already. It should have been a great deal, except while the naniates were fixing him, they were also breaking him. Leading him down a path to madness and death.

  He still wasn’t clear why. They were supposed to be fully compatible. He was supposed to be just like the Shard that had carried them. Something had changed over the millennia. Either in the naniates or humanity or both. It didn’t matter. The point was that while they had offered him immediate protection and salvation from the enemy, his long-term prospects didn’t look as good.

  In the end, he was okay with that. He was old. He had lived well. It was a worthwhile trade.

  “I need a suit,” Olus said.

  Pahaliah nodded. “Xalix is bringing it. He’ll be here soon.”

  In the twenty-plus years that Olus had been using Dilixix as an informant, he had never suspected she was anything more than any other immigrant Plixian that made their way to Earth. Sure, he had known she was more educated than most, and that she was tight with her community, but he thought that was the extent of it.

  He had thought wrong.

  A Servant of the Watchers. That’s what she had called herself. Xalix was the same, and apparently, there were a few thousand more spread across the galaxy. They were all non-humans. Atmo, Trover, Lrug, Plixian, Rudin, and others. Even a few Hurshin and Illini. Their job wasn’t to get directly involved in the fight against the Nephilim but to secretly assist from the sidelines, procuring things an Ophanim might need. Food, shelter, clothing, weapons, medicine, information. He had never guessed how many of the operations he had worked against were sourced by Thraven and his ilk. He had never realized the information Dilixix was sharing with him was gathered for the Watchers.

  She had apologized to him multiple times for giving him the pills. They were in extremely limited supply, countless years old, passed down within her family of Servants for generations. She had done it in desperation, knowing the threat Thraven’s Venerants and Evolents posed to the order of the Republic and how few honest soldiers there were to c
ounter it.

  He only wished she had told him up front. He would have taken the pills anyway. But he didn’t blame her. There hadn’t been time to explain anything.

  Olus walked over to a table in the corner of the room. A cup of coffee was already waiting for him. He picked it up and took a sip.

  “Location?” he asked.

  “Seattle,” she replied. “The tri-towers.”

  “That’s Tridium’s Terran HQ.”

  “I know. That’s the intel we have from Goillisi.”

  Olus had struggled to conceptualize a Rudin hacker. The race was typically structured and organized beyond reason, sticking to rules and regulations and laws even when it was illogical, dangerous, or otherwise stupid to do so. Apparently, Goillisi had gotten over that. He had probably gotten that trait from his aunt, the late Mamma Oissi.

  “We have a shuttle?”

  “It’s been arranged.”

  Dilixix hadn’t been the only surprise here on Earth. Pahaliah was another. Her parents were both also descendants of the Seraphim, a long line of them that had accumulated a relative position of power within Terran affairs over the centuries. In her case, that meant the best all-around education and the best kinds of schools, and access to resources even Olus would never have been able to get on a government budget. Goillisi was one of those resources. The room they were standing in was another.

  At the same time, her parents didn’t care about Thraven or the war. According to Pahaliah, they didn’t even believe the Nephilim existed. The traitorous Seraphim had fled to the Extant and destroyed one another. That was the story they had told themselves and her. That was the story they still believed. After all, if they were going to come back, why hadn’t they done so sooner? The planet had billions of people on it before interstellar flight, more than enough to satiate their needs and allow them to take over.

  Olus knew the answer to that question. The Fire and the Brimstone and the technology contained within their Covenant. Technology that couldn’t be reproduced until now. Technology that would allow them to bring their war back to Elysium. Back to the One.