Uprising (Gateway Series Book 3)

by Brian Dorsey

  Graves returned Martin’s gaze. “I…”

  “Do you think I would ever betray our people?” added Martin.

  “No,” replied Graves.

  “Then listen to Shara,” said Martin. “Desro, do something with the Praetorian…now, as for you,” continued Martin, turning toward Mori. “We need to talk.”

  “That’s why I’ve been waiting for your ass for the last three hours,” said Mori, sliding her pistol into its holster.

  As Shara began to explain the lie that was Alpha Humana to the dumbfounded Sergeant Graves, Martin stepped toward Mori. She stopped directly in front of her, staring into her burning green eyes. “Where’s Stone?”

  “He’s not here.”

  “No shit,” grumbled Martin. “Where is he?”

  “Looks like that hand’s healing nicely,” said Mori with a smile. “When you get that occasional little twinge of pain, do you think of me?”

  “Fuck you…where’s he at?” Martin rested her hand on her sword. “I won’t ask again.”

  Mori let out frustrated groan. “Major General Stone,” she grumbled, “is on another mission.”

  “Major General?”

  “Things have changed since the last time you saw him.”

  Martin feared Mori and her Akota mysticism had gotten to Stone. “What have you savages done to him?”

  “Watch yourself, Humani,” said Mori through her teeth. “And he has done this to himself…against my…” Mori paused, taking a deep breath. “He has taken command of Nero’s division and is dealing with Followers of the Word in the Kilo system.”

  “What happened to Nero?”

  “Killed by the Saint’s fanatics.”

  “Those lunatics are making a mess of everything.” Martin’s gaze shifted back to the intense green eyes of her former enemy. “That’s what happens when people started looking to the sky—or to some invisible spirit—to solve their problems.”

  Mori’s face curled into a forced smile. “I guess you Humani prefer to kill for lies instead of religion.”

  Martin’s hand tightened around her sword and her muscles tensed as she held her stare with Mori. She wanted to react violently.

  But she paused. After a long breath she replied. “Can we just talk about the plan?”

  “Fine,” said Mori. “What do you have for me?”

  “Everything’s on track. Nero’s intel on the First Families was right. I have contacted as many of them as I could without giving myself away.” Martin released her grip on her sword. “They are in.”

  “Good.”

  “And what about the Ter…the Akota?”

  “We will be ready.”

  “Care to share a few more details?” replied Martin. “I need to update the key players.”

  “And just how much do you expect me to tell you?”

  “All of it. If Stone were here—”

  “Well, he’s not,” interrupted Mori, her jaw tightened.

  “Oh,” replied Martin, picking up that Mori’s frustration wasn't only with her. “Sounds like your plan to brainwash him isn’t going to well. You can’t make him something he’s not…no matter how hard you try.”

  “What he believes and what he and I do are none of your fucking business,” said Mori.

  “Touchy,” said Martin with a smile. “But I still need more details.”

  Mori stood silently, fuming.

  “Look, sweetheart. You don’t like me…I get it. And I sure as shit don’t like you, but we’re both in this together, so just fucking tell me the details.”

  “I’m not in the habit of just dumping intel to Humani,” replied Mori. “It’s—”

  “I trusted you enough to let you cut my fucking hand off, bitch. I think you could show me a little now.”

  “Fine,” huffed Mori. “The assault force for the Gateway Station is finishing training, and the last units for the orbital attack of the Dolus base have been assigned and are beginning simulated attacks.”

  “And the Humani invasion force?”

  “That has fallen to Magakisca and his staff,” said Mori. “He has been heavily involved with the insurgency of the Saint’s followers in the Kilo System but his last report said he would be transferring control of security to indigenous forces any day to assume command of the assault forces.”

  “So Stone will be part of the land assault.”

  “That’s what the Shirt-Wearers wanted,” replied Martin. “I wasn’t really involved in the decision.”

  Martin held back the urge to take another jab at Mori and at her apparent rift with Stone. “He is the best choice.”

  “Of course,” replied Mori dryly.

  “So everything is still on schedule?”

  “We are a go two standard months from now. The first jump will reach Gateway Station at 1330 hours standard.”

  “Good,” replied Martin. “Here are the valance sequences for transmission of jump codes on the day of the attack.” She watched Mori place the chip in her pocket. “It’s time the Humani people learned to live for themselves, not for the Xen…or the First Families.”

  “What are we going to do about Oxia?” interrupted Shara. “They will ask questions.”

  “You mean to say your Red Wolf here did something without thinking about the consequences?” replied Mori, her gaze locked on Martin.

  “Red Wolf?” asked Shara.

  “These Ters like to give you names after you kill enough of them,” replied Martin, giving Mori a smile.

  “Akota, you Hanmani savage,” replied Mori. “And you still have a dead soldier lying there to explain to your master.”

  Martin clinched her teeth. She knew she needed to come up with something and didn’t need Stone’s Terillian lover telling her.

  “Major?” asked Shara again. “We can’t return empty-handed with the ProConsul’s watchdog dead.”

  “We’ll need to make them think we had at least some success,” said Martin aloud.

  “I can help with that,” replied Mori. “If you’re willing to accept help from an Akota?”

  “And how can you help?” asked Martin.

  “How about my body as proof of your success?” asked Mori.

  “What the hell are you talking about? Not that I haven’t thought about it,” said Martin with a smirk, “but I’m guessing your boyfriend wouldn’t be too happy about that.”

  “Well it’s obviously not me,” replied Mori, “but Stone knew Astra Varus would at a minimum be looking for a reason to doubt you, so we received permission from the clan of a female warrior recently killed in battle to use her body in place of mine. Her appearance, given her wounds, is close enough to pass for me.”

  “And where is this decoy?” asked Martin, intrigued.

  “Stored on my ship,” answered Mori. “She and her clan have made a hard decision in allowing her body to be given over to the Humani…it is not our way.”

  “It might work,” said Martin. She could tell Mori was unnerved by the body of one of her own being handed over to the ProConsul. “I can’t ensure what will happen when we return,” she added, “but I promise your warrior will be treated with respect until them.”

  “Thank you,” said Mori with a nod.

  “Even then, the ProConsul will question if only Oxia is dead,” added Martin.

  “Sorry, Major,” interjected Shara, “I’m not volunteering to let you shoot me.”

  “Funny, Shara,” replied Martin. “I don’t actually plan to lose anyone else. I just need the ProConsul to think Oxia wasn’t the only one killed.”

  She looked toward each of her team.

  “This is real?” asked Graves. “What you said? It’s really true?”

  “It’s the truth,” replied Martin. “All of it.”

  “Then I’ll do it. I’ll stay behind.”

  “She can return with my team and then join Stone’s staff,” added Mori.

  “Are you sure, Sergeant?” asked Martin.

  “Hell no, Major,” repl
ied Graves. “But I’ll do it anyway. Nobody back there to miss me.”

  “Thank you,” said Martin. “But it can’t be you. The ProConsul knows Captain Desro and First Sergeant have history with me. It should be one of them,” she added, looking toward Shara.

  “Oh,” replied Shara. “I guess that was me volunteering?”

  “It was, First Sergeant.”

  “Just another day in the Guard,” replied Shara.

  “Now that we have that taken care of, do you have anything more for me?” said Mori.

  “Tell General Stone that landings would be less opposed near Vae, the Tri-Cities, or any Scarus or Eastern Family lands. The Juli family will hopefully be able to establish control of the regional government, and the Plaxia family should be able to gain control of Port Plaxia. But Stone will need to take Mt. Castra by force. I will try to disrupt their defense grid and cause as much chaos in the city as possible, but he will need at least a division to take and hold it for any length of time.”

  “A division?” replied Mori, shaking her head. “I keep forgetting just how many of you are crammed on that planet.”

  “If we can take Mt. Castra and hold it long enough, we can disrupt the planetary defense response, which should give the First Families supporting the revolt time to consolidate their power. Once that is done, the word about the truth can be spread, and more people will join the revolution.”

  “And if they don’t join?” asked Mori.

  “Then we deserve to be ruled.”

  Chapter 15

  Martin stood in front of Desro and Shara at the entrance to the transport’s cargo bay.

  “If she doesn’t buy this, we’re dead,” whispered Desro.

  “You’re always looking at the downside, Venny,” replied Martin.

  “Funny. You do know—”

  Desro stopped as a Praetorian stepped into the cargo bay.

  “Attention!” shouted Martin as Astra Varus, General Vispa, and Artemis entered the compartment.

  “So Paladin Martin,” said Astra, strolling into the compartment. “Show me the whore.”

  “Yes, ProConsul,” replied Martin. “She is stored over here.”

  Martin walked over to a metal container. Unlatching the cover, she swung it open to expose the body of a Terillian warrior with long, black hair. There were two obvious bullet wounds to her torso and the right side of her face was mangled.

  “Hmm,” said Astra. “Seems like so much a pile of flesh and bones in this metal box.” She let out a satisfied titter. “And to think of the trouble this bitch caused.”

  “Are we sure this is the right body?” asked Artemis, looking over the body. “How many dark-haired Terillians are there? Millions?”

  “It’s her,” replied Martin. She moved in close to Artemis. “I know since I’m the one that killed her,” she smiled. After staring at Artemis for a few seconds, she turned toward Astra. “And who is this Port Royal gutter rat?”

  “The name’s not important, Paladin,” replied Artemis.

  “That’s okay,” said Martin with a smile, looking him over. “Now I know what you look like,” she added. “In case someone needs to identify your body someday.”

  “That is enough posturing,” said Astra, turning to Martin. “Where is Oxia’s body?”

  “It was destroyed, ProConsul.”

  “Why was it destroyed?”

  “I didn’t do it, ProConsul. Both Lieutenant Oxia’s and Sergeant Graves’s bodies were blown apart by an explosion…this Terillian shot Oxia and when Graves attempted to pull him to safety, they were killed by a grenade. There were only pieces left.” She presented a sword. “But I did want to return his sword to the Oxia family,” she added, handing the sword to General Vispa.

  “Unfortunate,” replied Astra. “But at least he died for his people.”

  “That he did, ProConsul,” said Martin.

  “General Vispa, have this whore’s body taken to the Eternal Flame, stripped naked, and crucified for all to see until there is nothing left but bones.”

  “Yes, ProConsul,” replied Vispa.

  As Martin watched the Praetorians take the body from the cargo bay, her blood boiled at the thought of the brave warrior put on display.

  “Now, as for the Traitor,” said Astra. “When will I be looking at his dead body?”

  “Soon, ProConsul. Soon. I have sent word to my other team to have them return. I will combine the two teams and pick up his trail again. I expect them to return in the next standard month and be after him again a few weeks after that.”

  “Why wait, Paladin?” asked Astra.

  “We lost two men taking the whore, ProConsul. I’m guessing we’ll lose more taking the Traitor.”

  “Since you have brought me an appetizer, I guess I can wait a little while longer for the main course.” Astra paused. “But do not fail me again.”

  ***

  Martin ignored the dull pain radiating through her hand as she walked with her father in the garden of the veteran’s hospital. His hand holding hers was worth it.

  “I know you cannot speak about your mission, Emily,” said her father, “but how much longer will you be here this time?”

  “Here, father,” she said, feeling his body begin to shake. “Let’s sit on this bench.”

  He started to lower himself to the bench but lost his balance, causing Martin to grab him and direct him onto the bench. “Now, come sit with your father,” he huffed, patting the bench beside him. “How long will you be here?”

  Martin sat next to her father. “A few weeks, father. Then back out there.”

  “The word is that you killed the Traitor’s woman.”

  “Yes,” she sighed. She hated lying to him.

  “What is it, Em?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You can’t fool your father, Emily,” he replied, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Something is eating at you.”

  “What makes a warrior honorable?” she asked, her eyes red and wet.

  “Emily,” he said, running his hand over her cheek. “If anyone should know what it is to be an honorable warrior, it’s you. You are a hero of your people.”

  Martin guffawed. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “What is it? You can tell me.”

  Martin looked up toward the flashes of late afternoon light dancing among the leaves of the trees above them and sighed.

  “Is it classified?”

  She looked into her father’s eyes. “Is a warrior’s duty to the people or the Senate…” she paused, shaking her head, “…or the ProConsul?”

  “I don’t understand? The Senate represent the people and the ProConsul guides the Senate…it is all the same. When we say either one, we speak of the Republic and the culture and society that saved us from utter destruction.”

  “But what if they weren’t the same? What if to save one, you had to—”

  Martin felt her father’s hand tighten around hers.

  “You shouldn’t speak of such things, Emily. It could be considered treason.”

  “Treason against who? If I…” She paused. Every part of her being wanted to tell him the truth. She knew her eyes had to be giving her away. But she couldn’t tell him; he had dedicated his entire life to serving the ProConsuls. “Never mind,” she continued, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. “Sometimes I just get…tired.”

  As she spoke the word “tired,” a flood of emotion hit her and thoughts flashed through her mind. Thoughts of Talia Vanara accosting her in the market when she was a teenager, of her arrest for breaking Talia’s nose, the frozen hell of Golf 2, the dead war dog that gave its life for the coward Sequentis Varus, and the look of hatred on the young Phelian girl’s face as Martin shot her exploded in her thoughts like a series of gunshots. A wet flood of tears flowed down her face as she couldn’t hold back anymore. Then the image of Jackson’s face staring into hers as he died on Juliet 3 caused her to let out an audible moan as she buried her face in her hands. “I
’m just so tired of everything.”

  Sobbing into her hands, she felt the calming hand of her father on her back. As his hand made slow circles, she took in deep breaths, regaining her composure.

  “Look at me, Emily.”

  “I can’t,” she wept.

  His hand moved to the back of her head. “It’s not like I’ve never seen my daughter cry, Emily,” he said calmly. “Look at me.”

  Martin slowly raised her head, looking into her father’s eyes. “I’m sorry for—”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for, Emily,” interrupted her father, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Shedding tears for what you have done for your people makes you no less a warrior than the blood you have shed for them.”

  Martin ran the cuff of her sleeve over her eyes to dry them. “I shouldn’t show such weakness. It’s not becoming a soldier.”

  “You’ve shown no weakness, Emily. You’ve shown why you fight so hard for our people. It is that passion that makes you a great warrior.”

  Martin wasn’t sure if he truly meant what he was saying or if he was just trying to calm his crying daughter. Either way, it worked.

  Catching her breath, she spoke.

  “Do you really think the First Families have the best interests of the people in their hearts?”

  “They must think of the entire civilization, not the individual. If we think of ourselves over our people, we weaken the Republic. The individual makes selfish, short-sighted decisions, but the First Families make the hard decisions that will ensure the survival of our people.”

  “What decisions are you talking about, father?” asked Martin, her heart stopping.

  He looked into her eyes, not saying a word.

  “What are you talking about?” she repeated. Did he know? She felt her heart now as it pounded in her chest.

  “Everything…our laws, politics, representing us to the Xen…they have the experience and the intelligence to make the right decisions for all us,” he replied, spouting the same rhetoric she had heard her entire life.