Yobu didn’t seem to notice the tone. ‘Thought you’d been here since the coup. He’s come every day to visit Jilly.’
Erryn raised an eyebrow.
James entered and Erryn, a few minutes afterwards, followed. She was immediately stopped by the two Defiant, who were waved away by Yobu.
Jilly was laughing. James laughed with. Erryn watched from around the corner, Yobu behind her.
‘No, no. That move isn’t allowed,’ Jilly laughed, moving a plastic figurine back to its original position.
‘I’m still not getting this game,’ James frowned. Erryn noticed bags under his eyes, but his smile distracted from that. Erryn had never seen him like this.
‘It’s simple,’ Jilly explained, now serious, ‘you can only move the frigates between adjacent planets.’
‘But starships can warp way further than that!’
‘Rules are rules, dummy. If you could warp past my frontier planets, then the game would end too quickly.’
‘Okay, okay,’ James conceded the point. ‘I’ll try again.’
Erryn left soon after that. She smiled. Jilly’s smile was enough to lift the cloud, but Erryn also felt a tinge of jealousy. Fighting that down, Erryn offered to repay Yobu for the coffee through a free ride around the planet. He accepted.
“There is no greater a tragedy than civil war, whereby brother slays brother, father and son for the petty ideals taught to him by some narcissist he will never meet and who will never know him.” – Opening line of Where Martyrs Lie by an unknown author.
Chapter 27. Bad Blood
‘Goddammit, Rob,’ Danny whispered, flicking his cigarette into the bin. A face flashed in his mind’s eye. A pale, young, bloodied face. He fought it down and it disappeared. He shook his head and left his spot by the corner of the temporary Aegis embassy, located in one of the central hub towers. The Defiant Command had moved to Dedelux’s headquarters – the Keep. It was better equipped to run such a large state. And as was the case with states, all manner of groups and entities began to form and surround the Defiant, for profit and power.
Aegis had sent down a small crew to communicate with the Defiant, but nobody that Danny knew. He was disappointed but spent his time running messages between the Defiant and Aegis. All in all, he was a glorified messenger. Rather than use the internal network to contact James, he was expected to use his history with the Shadow of Galis to negotiate. For what, Danny was still not sure.
‘Danny, message for the Defiant,’ he heard one of the clerks shout from the entrance.
Danny waltzed over, his hands in his pockets. The clerk read from his tablet computer.
‘Aegis needs its own starport. Make it happen. – Q.’
Danny sighed and left towards Dedelux’s old keep, now dubbed Fort Nexus. Along the way, he observed all manner of people – traders, soldiers, civilians – both Zonian and Zarxian, as well as many other off-worlders. Only a week before, they had been at each other’s throats. Now, the unifying power of credits brought them all together. It was beautiful.
Jasper the Trooper waved him through into Fort Nexus. The scene inside was a bustle of clerks, soldiers, corporate representatives and Defiant officials refusing their demands. While Quentin had told him to speak to James directly, that was not how things worked. Darren Peterson was the Chancellor, as appointed by the Defiant. He handled all matters of peace in the city and planet. Danny had no special privileges with him.
‘I have an appointment,’ Danny explained to the receptionist. A multitude of individuals from a myriad of organisations and races sat in rows of seats in front of the receptionist’s desk.
‘Daniel Marzio? Yes, Darren will see you as soon as possible. Please take a number.’
Danny put his hand under the machine and allowed it to imprint the top with special ink. He glanced at the screen and saw the number fifty-six. His number was one-hundred and eleven. From experience, Danny knew that these meetings could go on for hours. He decided to go for a stroll. It couldn’t hurt.
Fort Nexus had been transformed from a villa to a command centre reminiscent of the corporate tower’s in Titan City. Murals had been stripped and sold. Guest and trophy rooms had been transformed into offices. The Defiant was ready to govern this city, to ensure that it remained safe and prosperous.
Despite the deregulation of trade, Nexus had never seen such a need for bureaucracy. This was to be expected. While the clipboards had moved from the docks to the desks, there was still a need for mediators, planners and inventory management. Corporates met with Defiant planners to determine the best way that they could work together to defend the planet, citizens took their peers to court over property disputes. Many sought reparations after the war. This was all to be expected after such a violent conflict.
Danny was eyed by some guards, but he was left alone. Many people knew him and knew that James trusted him.
As he turned a hallway, he walked straight into a group of three. James was flanked by a bearded man, who Danny recognised to be Marshal Rekkie, and an Exanoid wearing a Grag-Tec uniform.
‘Don! Good to see you.’
‘Likewise, Defiant. How has being ruler treated you?’
‘Not so bad, actually.’ James half-smiled. ‘I’m a war leader. They don’t expect me to do much besides help plan the defence. My delegates are doing a satisfactory job. What are you doing here?’
‘Meeting with one of your gloriously appointed delegates. The boss wants a starport for Aegis.’
‘He going to pay for it?’ the Exanoid interjected.
Danny shrugged. ‘He always leaves those things out. I presume so.’
‘Could be beneficial having star bombers and fighters planet-side. If their hangars above orbit are destroyed, then they will be dead in the void. A land-hangar will be much more reliable. I’d support such a motion,’ Marshal added.
‘Think about after the siege, James,’ the Exanoid grimaced. ‘Giving a starport to Aegis would give them a disproportionate amount of power here. You would lose your monopoly on the starports.’
‘A monopoly I only hold until we successfully defend the Imperial’s attack. And besides, didn’t Grag-Tec hold a starport?’
‘Yes, but that’s for freighters…’
‘That could be easily replaced by frigates,’ Danny smirked. ‘I don’t hold any misgivings with Grag-Tec, you guys make a decent computer, but don’t play corporate politics here. We have a planet of my people at stake.’
The Exanoid blushed. ‘I hold you no ill will, but I do distrust Aegis. You can tell your boss that. First it will be a hangar for star bombers, and then Nexus will be a ruin with a red globe flag hoisted above it.’
He turned to James.
‘We need military support, yes. We will get it. The Grag-Tec fleet is on route. Don’t rely on these zots. Grag-Tec has defended Nova Zarxa since we settled it. We will continue to do so.’
James sighed and clutched the bridge of his nose in thought.
‘Aegis is here. The Grag-Tec fleet is not,’ the Marshal argued. ‘Politics takes a backseat to survival, Quok.’
‘Politics is survival,’ Quok stated, through gritted teeth.
At that moment, an explosion rocked the building. The group, all except for Quok, immediately steadied themselves. The Exanoid’s inferior balance gave way and he tumbled to the floor.
‘Sector A compromised. Defenders to Sector A. Multiple armed hostiles in Sector A,’ Nathan announced over the intercom.
James and Marshal immediately un-holstered their weapons.
‘You got a piece?’ James asked of Danny.
‘Not coming into a government building with a gun, James.’
‘Your loss. Take one of mine.’
James handed him a Titan manufactured pistol. A sturdy, hard-hitting model.
The three of them, as Quok stayed to catch his breath, bolted towards Sector A, the main foyer. The scene they found there was horrific. Smoke and ash filled the air. People lay wounded and
dead. Shrapnel was embedded in their bodies, or had simply sawed their limbs clean off.
‘Open fire! Don’t let him get close!’ a Defiant Captain shouted, pointing at the bridge entrance to the room.
Everyone opened fire on the entrance, but Berrin, Yellows and masked orange and black individuals reflected the rounds with personnel shields. It was too late. A Yellow, sweaty and dishevelled, ran into the foyer and detonated himself.
James raised his hand in a flash and a wall of blue energy protected those near and behind him. Some were not so lucky as geradite shards ripped them to shreds.
‘No more games,’ James announced through gritted teeth. He waved his hand, as if beckoning. The entire front row of enemy shields flew towards him and stopped at the Defiant line. The undefended combatants soon fell.
As the enemies holding the bridge died, allies revealed themselves from the back.
‘James, it’s Berrin,’ Leroy explained.
‘And Yellows, and these odd grako,’ Grugo added.
‘Zerian,’ Danny announced, kicking one of them onto its back so to examine the uniform.
‘Skite! Race traitors. Should have known,’ Marshal swore.
‘It gets worse,’ Kumichō Kota said, hobbling towards James while flanked by two Ganru. ‘They are tearing up Nexus. Ganru headquarters was bombed by some fanatic. This force was one of the smaller ones. A larger force has attacked Underbelly Alpha…’
Marshal swore incomprehensibly and broke off into a run. James pursued him but lost him in the chaos as he watched his new city burn.
Marshal had lost many people in his life. He had lost his parents decades ago. He had lost friends, acquaintances, comrades, superiors, inferiors. At Ganymede, he had lost his soul. A soldier’s life was loss. After that brutal battle on that skiting moon, he never thought he could feel true pain again. Yet he had never felt anything like this.
The air smelled of burnt plastic and geradite. It stung the nostrils. A sweet, cutting sensation through his sinuses. It was hot. Blistering heat came in waves from all directions, as flames immolated homes. Gas ganisters, so crucial for survival, had become explosives. Not everyone died in the flames. Many lay dead, filled with geradite shrapnel, lead or steel bearings. Some were burnt by plasma or laser. Some had simply been beaten to death. Ralph, Marshal’s boy, was riddled with bloody holes. Marshal the Ranger noted that his son’s fatal wounds had been fired using a gauss gun. Marshal the father noted that his son had died with a pistol in his hand. Only anger allowed him to pass his son’s corpse and kick open the door to his bedroom. He dropped his gun and fell to his knees.
Arnald Hermann evaded the pulse blasts and torpedoes of the Berrin ships as if he had been a trained fighter pilot. Flying through the crystal wrought storms of Nexus was good practice for the once civilian mechanic. Missiles and blasts from pirate raiders was child’s play compared to the shield-rending warp bolts.
James was prepping his assault rifle. FireBolt was strung over his shoulder, but he doubted he would be given the opportunity to use it. Underbelly Alpha was a densely packed neighbourhood still, despite the liberation. Many Zonians felt an attachment to the place. Upgrades to its utilities had helped keep many of them in their original abodes. Shanties had been upgraded to houses, densely packed into rows. Because of this, its streets were made for close quarters. But one never knew. A sniper rifle may always come in handy.
He was accompanied by some of his Troopers and a group of Ganru. Alongside his shuttle, Defiant fighters and dropships moved troops around the city. The majority were headed to Underbelly Alpha, where the fighting was hottest and where Marshal had sped madly towards his endangered family.
James winced at the thought.
Please let it not be so. James begged.
‘Landing in ten…nine…eight…’
Arnald counted down and the group unbuckled and got into position on either side of the dropship for deployment.
‘Two…one. Opening doors!’
The doors whooshed open and they were welcomed by gunfire. Personnel shields and returned fire kept most of them alive. James clutched a Zerian with Warp and threw him into a group of his comrades. He then opened fire. The enemies were dead, but there were more. Underbelly Alpha, where this had all started, stood aflame. James only hoped it was not too late.
Marshal climbed over a small home and then leapt over the other side onto an unsuspecting Yellow. His pick, meant to be used for prying open geradite maintenance boards, pierced the helmeted skull with a clunk and a crunch. Marshal used the element of surprise to then kick at the other Yellow, distracting him long enough to be disarmed and held in a strangle hold. Knife to the Yellow’s throat, Marshal demanded.
‘Dedelux?’
‘Go to the Void, zot,’ the Yellow growled.
‘Only after you, unless you’re wanting to live. Where is Dedelux?’
The Yellow spat. Marshal clutched him by the neck and then stabbed him in the thigh, away from any vital arteries. He then twisted it. The Yellow screamed.
‘Where is Dedelux?’
‘He led the attack himself,’ the Yellow eventually panted. ‘He’s somewhere here.’
‘So, the zot wants blood for himself?’
Marshal took out his knife and wiped it on the Yellow’s pants. He then went to retrieve his pick. The Yellow was wheezing and suppressing further screams as he clutched his wound. Marshal shot him in the head.
The attack had a pattern. A trail. One only needed to follow it. Marshal skulked in the shadows. He invoked all his Ranger training. Decades of service culminated in hiding in burnt plastic hovels and behind exploded gas canisters. He heard his allies behind him, but they were too far off. He couldn’t risk going back. He had to catch him.
A lone individual can often always move faster than a group. Especially a group devoted to destroying all in its path. The Rangers were designed to take advantage of this. When the enemies of humanity pillaged and destroyed, the Rangers tracked them and put them down. Marshal had done this hundreds of times before. He had put down countless aliens and countless humans in his quest to defend humanity. It now meant nothing. All that mattered now was putting this one target down.
The main squad was noisy. Marshal could clearly hear and then see them as they marched along the path between flaming shanties. There were around twenty of them. In the centre stood a red and gold armoured individual wearing a crown of roses.
Not all of Underbelly Alpha’s structures were flammable, and Marshal used these to gain the height advantage. Concealed on the second-floor of an unburnt shanty, Marshal waited for Dedelux’s squad to close the gap. As they turned their backs on his position, he tossed a frag grenade.
The back row exploded and splattered all over the geradite. Dedelux turned and ordered his men to open fire as he ran for it, followed by more of his cronies. Marshal had already left.
Dedelux was a vain man. He was hubristic. Marshal knew this. There was no other reason that the man would so foolhardily lead the attack himself. Marshal didn’t try to understand the zot, however. In time, there would be much less to understand.
Dedelux, and his group of now four accompanying Yellows, had stopped near the wall of the Underbelly. They were trapped on either side by buildings. A straight road led up to their position. They would use the clear position as a killing field.
Marshal peaked out from his position. He could smell nauseating perfume and fake roses. He could also smell urine. Dedelux had his back to him.
They stood with their guns towards the empty street, ducking down for cover. Their master had his back almost to the wall. He would be safe from any charging Defiant.
Marshal climbed out of the shattered window of what was once Darren Peterson’s attempted store. He was a hands-width away from Dedelux. He leaned in close, so that the man could feel his breath.
‘This is for my family.’
Dedelux turned
just as Marshal brought a pick down into his chest, piercing his heart. Dedelux fell without a word.
James pulled back the bolt and then pulled the trigger. Before the Yellow could turn around, he lay dead. Marshal used the distraction and leapt for cover. Shots followed him. James swore as he pulled back the bolt and fired again. He missed as the last Yellow entered the building after Marshal.
‘After them!’ James shouted.
His squad surged forward. James’ superior speed allowed him to outpace them easily. He arrived slightly before a few other Defiant. Marshal was on the ground, bloodied and bruised. His beard was flecked with blood. A Yellow held a gun to his head. Another pointed one at James.
‘Put the guns down!’ James ordered, sending forth his aura.
It didn’t work. Their adrenaline blocked his manipulation.
‘This criminal executed the lawful governor, terrorist. We must enact the law.’
‘I am the law,’ James rebuked.
‘You are a terrorist!’
James’ squad poured in and surrounded the group. No one fired. Marshal’s eyes were sunken. He didn’t seem to be feeling anything at all.
Revenge, not allowed to fester, was hollow, James mused.
He let out a breath. ‘Let us calm down. You must know that you have few options here. You shoot him, we execute you. You let him go, and we can negotiate.’
‘We will never negotiate with terrorists!’ the Yellow with his gun to Marshal’s head yelled.
His companion’s nervous demeanour showed that the sentiment was not mutual.
‘You negotiate or die. Make a choice.’
There was silence. Deafening silence. Nobody made a move. The Yellows and a few of the Defiant were sweating. Both Marshal and James were stone-faced.
Then there was shouting.
The startled Yellow fired but James had anticipated it and had sent him flying into the wall. His companion immediately dropped his gun and raised his hands. Marshal remained kneeling.
Rise of the Defiant: Book Two of the Warpmancer Series Page 21
