The Long March (The Exiled Fleet Book 2)

by Richard Fox

  The escort ship didn’t fire on the asteroid. Instead, she flared her engines and rammed into it, the ship crumpling like a cheap can as a fireball engulfed the asteroid. Large fragments of the broken asteroid emerged, still on a collision course with Tiberian’s ship.

  A hunk the size of a bomber crashed against the ship’s port and shattered against the shields. The bridge jerked to one side, but Tiberian held his spot in front of the holo wall. More of the asteroid rained against the shields. A fragment of solid stone covered in steep spikes like a broken buzz-saw blade struck the prow of the ship and ripped through the shields.

  The deck pitched up and sent Barlow flying. His chains went taut and he smacked against the deck. Pain, not from the torque, arced through his right shoulder. He rolled over and saw Tiberian next to a workstation. His ship hung in a holo field, a red pulsing gash along the prow.

  His shoulder ached and Barlow winced as he looked at it and saw it was badly dislocated.

  Tiberian stalked toward the prisoner, and Barlow tried to push himself away with his heels against the deck.

  The Daegon slapped both hands against the injured shoulder, ignoring Barlow’s pleading and snapping it back into place with a deft twist of his hands. Tiberian muttered a word and the pain torque grew warm as a wave of euphoria passed through Barlow’s body.

  “I don’t…understand,” he said.

  “You serve. You are still useful,” Tiberian said as he settled back into his throne. “This is our way. This is how it will be for your world, for all of humanity that submits to our rule.”

  Barlow didn’t ask what the alternative was. He’d already had it in good measure.

  ****

  Gage’s arms tensed against his holo tank as the Orion emerged from slip space, the orange hues of the nebula filling the forward screens, a distant column of asteroids arrayed into a funnel stretching into the haze.

  “Scope, any sign of the Daegon?” Gage asked.

  “Negative, sir,” Price said. “Sensors are still blunted by all the particles in the nebula, but the range here is better than our last stop. Ley line reads steady. If there was a fleet of Daegon on our tail, we’d see their bow wave in the nexus.”

  A message flashed on her screens.

  “Captain Arlyss reports he’s rescuing the crew of the Remorseless,” she said. “He should have them all aboard the Renown in less than half an hour. We don’t have the final damage report on her yet…that she managed to hold together through slip space is something of a miracle.”

  “Pull the fleet in close and put some distance between us and the nexus,” Gage said. “Not a lot of room to maneuver here, but I don’t want us in a knife fight the instant the Daegon come through. Speaking of which…” Gage turned to Loussan. “How long will it take them to double back?”

  “Twelve, maybe sixteen hours if we’re lucky,” Loussan said. “Razor Fist isn’t that far from the Ring. We can skip out of here before they catch up. Sanctuary is a bit easier going. We’re two stops away from clearing this whole mess, but the slip transit to the next point is difficult. There’s a dead star skirting the edge of the nebula a few light-years away eating up gas and playing hell with the jump calculations.”

  “He’s right,” Jellico said. “Kirkman’s Star, we had a lecture on it at the academy. It might pull in enough mass to reignite in a few hundred thousand years. For now, it’s causing turbulence on the ley lines.”

  “Care to explain the tunnel of loose asteroids? There’s no way that’s natural,” Gage said.

  “It isn’t.” Loussan chuckled. “Though it is fun to mess with the newbies and tell them we stumbled on an alien celestial temple and they might be sacrificed if the little green men catch us. It’s a graviton lattice the first clans made to get through this place. Gravity emitters keep all the rocks in place, which smooths out the ley line for jumps.”

  “You don’t say…” Gage stroked his chin.

  Tolan stepped out of the elevator wearing a junior crewman’s uniform.

  “Ship’s locked down tight,” the spy said. “I tested ship’s security just enough to get yelled at but not shot. Ja’war shouldn’t have had a chance to change location, yet.”

  “Come read this,” Gage said, pointing to a screen with the free text Ja’war sent to the Daegon along with his faux jump data.

  “Looks like gibberish, which would mean he encrypted this part,” Tolan said. He touched the screen and traced around the text. “Which would mean you sent this through the computers to brute force the message, but you got nowhere—stop me when I’m wrong.” He lifted the text up and flicked it into the holo tank, flipping the message around, then inverting it.

  “There we are,” Tolan said. “Farsi-based language from a Podunk wild-space planet that went dark years ago. I’ve seen him use this before.”

  “Yes, you’re very smart.” Gage’s hands balled into fists. “What. Does. It. Say?”

  “It’s a list. Ship’s compartments and systems. More random words. Doesn’t tell us anything by itself…let me look at the whole message he sent.” Tolan scanned over the jump data and shook his head. “Jellico, I can’t tell the signal from the noise here. Eliminate everything that’s jump data for me.”

  Most of the text on Tolan’s screen faded away, with the exception of several numbers at the beginning of the transmission.

  “There we are,” Tolan said. “Now we pick out the words. Fourth, nineteenth…” He tapped words in the holo tank. “Engines. Default. Daybreak. Shadow.”

  “He’ll wreck our engines once the Daegon are within striking distance,” Loussan said. “At least, that’s what I’d do.”

  “I agree.” Tolan erased the words with a wave of his hand.

  “Then he’s about to sabotage our engines, if he hasn’t done it already,” Gage said. The Commodore double-tapped an icon on his screen to open a channel to the engine room.

  “Hold on.” Tolan raised a hand. “Ja’war’s a blade of grass in an open field right now. We need to flush him out. We need to give him an opportunity.”

  “Yates,” the chief engineer came up in the holo tank.

  Gage gave Tolan a sideways glance.

  “Status on jump drive?” Gage asked.

  “Need three hours to recharge,” Yates said. “No change from my last update.”

  “Thank you.” Gage closed the channel, leaned back, and crossed his arms in front of his stomach.

  “What do you suggest?” he asked Tolan.

  Chapter 23

  Seaver awoke to pain in his shoulders, the feel of his bare feet scraping against dirt and grass. He managed to open his eyes and look up. Two men in bodysuits the same blue as Daegon armor carried him by the armpits. His hands were bound behind his back.

  Chain-link fences formed a narrow pathway for the three. The sound of sobbing and cries of pain came through the air.

  One of his captors looked down at him with disinterest, then opened a flap on a tent made from dark fabric. They set him down on a patch of muddy grass inside the tent, the other side open to a long pit on the other side of a fence. Seaver knelt, the guards stayed within arm’s reach.

  Daegon soldiers dragged the bodies of Albion soldiers to the pit and tossed them in.

  “No!” came from the other side of a tent wall. “I won’t do it, you bastards! I’ll—” the man’s protest ended in a scream of pain. Two guards carried a struggling Albian Marine across the opening.

  “What is this?” Seaver asked. “What’re you going to do to me?”

  One of the guards put a hand to his shoulder and shook his head.

  On the other side of the fence, the guards carrying the protesting man dropped him at the side of the pit. He looked over the edge. He got to his feet slowly, never taking his eyes off the dead.

  “Albion’s light burns, you hear me?” He spun around to face one of the Daegon soldiers. “We will never—” He gagged as a metal band around his neck constricted. It broke the skin around his neck
and blood gushed from severed arteries. The Marine collapsed to the ground and one of his guards kicked him into the pit.

  Seaver bent his head to one side and felt the pinch of a band around his own neck.

  A moment later, a Daegon in obsidian black armor swept into Seaver’s small tent. The man wore no helmet. His hair was as dark as his armor, slicked back and long enough to almost touch his shoulders. His skin was sea green and utterly flawless.

  Seaver looked at his two guards. One was pale with vaguely Asian features, the other dusky-skinned with a narrow face.

  The Daegon reached towards Seaver’s face. He flinched back, but the guards held him steady. A thin nail snapped out of the black armored glove and pricked Seaver’s cheek. The palm flashed, leaving a painful after image on Seaver’s eyes.

  “I am Syphax of the Inquisition. You are James Seaver…Youth Auxiliary…approved enlistment.” One of the Daegon’s eyes shined white. He spoke English without a hint of a foreign accent. “Your DNA was found and recorded on a rifle recovered in Ludlow.”

  “Seaver, James F. Serial number—” A shock went down his spine and the band around his neck tightened ever so slightly.

  “You will speak when spoken to, thrall. Else I’ll have your tongue,” Syphax said. “Your mother is in the navy…likely dead. Your father…is in the processing facility outside of Camden.”

  Seaver’s stomach twisted into a cold hard lump.

  “He suffers from Langfei syndrome,” the Daegon said. “Low potential for service. He’ll likely be culled in the next few days.”

  Seaver tried to stand up, but the band shocked him again.

  “Your masters are merciful, young Mr. Seaver,” Syphax said. “We do not waste potential, which you have. Even if you did blunder into my net outside of Ludlow. I will give you a choice; the last you will ever make. You may join a themata regiment. Do this, and your father will receive medical treatment and will be safe when we cull the herd of the less useful. Displease your officers and your father loses his protection. Choose. Now.”

  The inquisitor looked over his shoulder to the mass grave, then back at Seaver.

  Seaver began breathing faster, his mind racing as he tried to process the question. Did they really have his father? What did it mean to serve the invaders?

  “Illi’ut auferad,” Syphax said and the two guards grabbed Seaver by the arms.

  “I’ll do it,” Seaver spat. “I’ll do it; just don’t hurt my father.” The guards let go of him.

  “Wise.” The inquisitor hooked a finger into the band around Seaver’s neck and broke it with a slight tug.

  “Welcome to the new order. Serve well, thrall.” Syphax turned and left the tent.

  One of the guards slipped a hood over Seaver’s head.

  Chapter 24

  Ja’war pulled off his gloves and leaned back against a bulkhead with the rest of his engineering team, brushing long strands of sweaty hair off his face. Assuming a female identity was always more trouble than he liked, but he knew he’d be stuck as Franks for a bit longer. At least nothing in her online files indicated she had any sort of romantic attachments on the ship. Trying to deceive a lover was almost impossible unless he’d had ample time to prepare.

  The passageway stank of burnt wires and body odor. A trace of smoke left dark smudges across the ceiling and dampened the brightness emanating from the light panels.

  Brown passed him a water bottle swirling with electrolyte powder.

  “Drink up,” he said. “Who knows when we’ll get a whole five minutes to rest again.”

  Ja’war mumbled thanks and took a sip.

  “Wait, that’s lemon, isn’t it?” Brown asked. “Thought that made you puke.”

  “Amazing what you can get down when you’re thirsty,” he said, feigning disgust and passing the bottle back to Brown.

  “Now hear this, now hear this,” came over the PA system and the repair crew groaned. Ja’war pulled a glove back on and locked the cuff into his suit sleeve, anticipating yet another emergency that they’d have to deal with.

  “Renown, arriving,” came over the PA. “Valiant, arriving. Concordia, arriving.”

  “Thank God.” Brown settled back against the wall. “Commodore’s having a powwow with the other captains. Might mean we could actually get some shut-eye.”

  “Ajax, arriving. Perilous, arriving,” the PA droned on.

  “Gage brought all the captains over…” Ja’war wiped soot off his forearm screens and checked the ship’s shuttle bays. Only the auxiliary bay beneath the ship was open, and a short line of skiffs from the rest of the fleet waited for their turn to land.

  “Must be something important,” Brown said. “Though I don’t know why he wouldn’t just give orders through the secure comms and holos. But officers. Got to feel important, right?”

  “That they do.” Ja’war pulled up the Orion’s schematics and mentally traced a route from Prince Aidan’s quarters to the auxiliary launch bay.

  ****

  A tea set sat on a trolley against the back wall, locked to the floor. Gage kept glancing at it as the fleet’s captains filed into his increasingly cramped ready room. To gather more than three Albion naval officers in a room and not provide tea was a faux pas of the highest order, but the last time the fleet’s commanding officers were in a room together, a Daegon operative poisoned every last captain, with the exception of Admiral Sartorius, who was shot to death. So not serving tea seemed prudent. Gage made a mental note to never mention this to Bertram, who was still locked away in Prince Aidan’s quarters.

  Captain Arlyss came in, the coveralls over his skin suit almost immaculate. He looked at Gage and then the tea set and shook his head.

  Bargia of the Remorseless was right behind Arlyss, whose Renown had pulled the crew from the Remorseless off their stricken ship. Bargia’s face was gaunt, his uniform patched with emergency tape to repair cuts that would have leaked his suit’s atmosphere into the void. His right arm was blackened by fire.

  Gage waved Bargia over.

  “Sir,” Bargia said and handed over a data slate. “The Remorseless is dead in space. Reactors almost went critical when we came out of slip space. Had to do a hard shutdown or they would have lost containment. I have repair estimates. If the Hephaestus can—”

  “What of your crew?” Gage asked.

  Bargia swallowed hard.

  “Lost nineteen sailors and three officers. Another seven are in the Renown’s sick bay. Most…should pull through.”

  “If you hadn’t put Remorseless between the grav buoy and the enemy, they’d have torn us all apart by now,” Gage said. “You got us here, and we’re almost free of this maze. Well done to you and your crew.”

  “What of my ship, sir?”

  Gage glanced over the repair estimates.

  “We can’t stay here for four days,” he said.

  “That’s worst case. My engineer is a miracle worker. Give him enough man power and—”

  Gage reached out and grabbed Bargia by his singed sleeve.

  “We’re here to work out a plan.” Gage raised his chin to the assembled captains in the crowded room.

  “Of course.” Bargia nodded and went back to the other side of the table between Gage and the rest of the room.

  “Captains,” Gage said, clasping his hands behind his back, “this isn’t how I anticipated our first gathering after the tragedy that struck our fleet over Siam. We stand at a crossroads—”

  “You’ve backed us into a corner, haven’t you?” Arlyss asked. “You made the mistake of trusting a pirate, the very same pirate that wants you dead more than anything else in the galaxy, and now that trust has come to bite you—and all of us—in the backside, hasn’t it? Don’t hide behind some pretext of a gallant last stand. Show some honor and admit we’re trapped here because of your mistakes.”

  More than a few captains nodded in agreement with Arlyss.

  “Admiral Sartorius was a fool to have you in the chain of comma
nd.” Arlyss shook his head slowly. “Why he thought some lowborn officer that graduated from a second-rate school and with only a smidge of aptitude could command anything but an ore freighter is beyond me. How badly have you fouled this up, Gage? How many lives are we going to lose because we’ve our backs to the wall with no way out?”

  A text message scrolled across a data slate on the desk.

  “I daresay everything’s going according to plan,” Gage said.

  “Commodore,” Captain Erskine of the Valiant rubbed her face, “would you please enlighten us to this plan?”

  Gage rapped his knuckles against the desk twice, and Loussan stepped through a doorway that opened behind the Commodore. Several captains grumbled and more than one put a hand to their side arms.

  “I’ll let you all guess how happy I am about this too,” the pirate said.

  “This is treason,” Arlyss said. “To have a wanted criminal directly—”

  “This is surviving,” Gage said firmly. “We’ve been on the run, barely a step ahead of the Daegon, for weeks. You know your crews, your ships, no fleet has been under such a sustained threat since the final days of the Reach War when the Reich attacked Albion. There is no surrendering to this enemy. There is no glory in a last stand. We carry the only hope our people have—Prince Aidan and our fighting spirit. What must we sacrifice to keep that hope alive?”

  Gage looked at Bargia and the Remorseless’ captain’s gaze fell to the floor.

  “This fleet left sailors and soldiers behind on Siam,” Gage said. “I have no misconceptions about what happened to them because of my decision. I ordered the Retribution to buy the rest of us time to escape. Captain Barlow…was an old and true friend.”

  He pointed at Loussan. “While I have more reason to despise this man than any of you, he has dealt true with us up until now. And the only reason I haven’t thrown this sack of pirate filth out of an air lock is that he knows the only way out of this place.”

  Loussan shrugged his shoulders.