Uprising (Gateway Series Book 3)

by Brian Dorsey

  Maybe he didn’t know. “Don’t you think we can determine our own fates?”

  Her father let out a laugh that quickly turned to a cough. “I’ll take the order of the First Families for the chaos of the masses any day.”

  “You’d rather stay in a cage for fear of what freedom might bring?”

  His hand tightened around hers. “Freedom is a lie anarchists tell people who are easily manipulated and unable to earn their keep,” he said, his eyes focused and intense. After a few seconds, his grip loosened. “And besides, Emily, where is this cage you speak of? All the First Families have brought us is prosperity and power.”

  “And war,” added Martin.

  “The Terillians brought this war to us, Emily. You know this…what is all of this about?”

  “How can you trust them after everything…after mother—”

  “She wasn’t from a First Family,” he replied coldly. “She simply hoped to improve her standing, which is what each one of us should do…what you have done.”

  “She betrayed you…betrayed us. What she did—”

  “Enough!” interrupted her father, his voice carrying the power it used to when he was a Praetorian. “You can’t blame the First Families for my inability to keep—”

  “Don’t say that,” interrupted Martin, her face red hot with anger. “Don’t ever say that. It was her and—”

  “Perhaps we should just continue our walk,” offered her father. “Let’s just enjoy the garden.”

  She gritted her teeth and inhaled deeply, calming herself. “Sure, father,” she replied. “Maybe that would be best.”

  “Good. Then help an old soldier to his feet,” he said with a smile that barely hid his frustration.

  “Yes, father,” she said, rising to her feet. “Let’s get you moving.”

  ***

  Martin was lost in her thoughts as she made her way back to her barracks. She ran through the list of conspirators, wondering which of them would fold at the first sign of trouble. Then she flashed back to the sight of her mother and Marack Vanara at Governor Centius’s home. Her head began to ache; how she yearned for the uncomplicated violence of combat.

  Suddenly she stopped in her tracks.

  “It’s the man with no name,” she said, turning to her left toward a tall, thin man leaning against the wall of a confectionary shop.

  “I guess you do remember a face,” replied Artemis.

  “And what is the ProConsul’s spy doing out here among the common folk? You wouldn’t be spying on me, would you, Mr. Anonymous?”

  “Now I wouldn’t be a very good spy if I answered that, would I?” Artemis pushed himself off the wall. “But then again, if I was a good spy, you would never see me.”

  Martin stepped in close to Artemis. “You know…whoever the hell you are, I think you are a spy, but that you also want me to know it.”

  “And how is dear old father?” asked Artemis.

  Martin slammed Artemis against the wall, her right hand involuntarily gripping her pistol in its holster. “You stay the fuck away from my father, Port Royal scum. He served his people and deserves to be left alone.”

  She stepped back from Artemis, her eyes fixed on his.

  “Such anger from such a beautiful woman,” replied Artemis with a smile. “If you ever tire of playing soldier, you must contact me.” Now it was Artemis who moved close to Martin. “With your bravery and beauty, you would make a formidable spy,” he said with a wry smile. “You could be plotting on someone right under their nose and they would be none the wiser.”

  Martin stared coldly at Artemis, but it took all of her strength to keep her emotions from boiling to the surface. She knew he was a spy, and apparently a good one, but was he just trying to get a rise out of her or did he really know something? She could only hope he didn’t. “Trust me,” she replied. “I’d rather deal with my enemies face to face, looking them in eyes when I kill them.”

  “You are a saucy one, Paladin Martin,” replied Artemis, apparently unfazed by her not-so-subtle threats. “I can see why you are one of the ProConsul’s favorite pets.”

  “We both know I’m not one of her favorites,” replied Martin. “I’m useful…that’s all she cares about.”

  “And a realist too,” said Artemis. “Whether you know it or not, you have a knack for espionage, Paladin.”

  “What I have a knack for,” replied Martin, “is violence. So unless you want to see just how good I am at that particular skill set, stay the fuck away from me and my father.”

  “As you wish, Paladin,” said Artemis, with a nod. “Good day,” he added before strolling away, whistiling.

  ***

  Stone sat across from the Shirt-Wearers, waiting for them to speak.

  “Welcome back to Luna-tunkan, Magakisca,” said Shirt-Wearer River, rising to shake Stone’s hand. “You and your troops have performed well.”

  “The people of Kilo 7 had more to do with it than me, or even my men, uncle,” replied Stone. “They have fought hard, and will need to continue to do so to keep their planet their own.”

  “And soon you will have the chance to fight for your planet, Magakisca,” said Shirt-Wearer Wolf.

  “That is why you have been called to meet with us,” added River. “We have decided to elevate you to the rank of Marshall, which will be commensurate with your roll in the attack.”

  “Thank you, uncle, but even with our increased numbers, my command is still not much larger than a division in size.”

  “True,” replied River, “but you have been chosen to lead the entire assault force on Alpha Humana.”

  “That will be close to 200,000 troops under your command,” added Wolf.

  Suddenly, the weight of all 200,000 pressed down on his shoulders. “Will the Akota officers follow me?”

  “General Winterbird has spoken well of your performance on Kilo 7, and word of your success is known among the Akota flag officers…they know you can fight and they will follow you.”

  “I am honored and accept command,” replied Stone.

  “Excellent,” said Shirt-Wearer Shadow. “Fleet Admiral Willow and your division commanders will meet with you tomorrow so that you can get an update on the training for the attack.”

  “Very well, uncles,” said Stone. “From what I have heard, Martin has provided excellent intelligence on recommended landing areas and First Families that will support us.”

  “Casualties will still be heavy, Magakisca,” said River.

  “They will, uncle,” he replied, “and even if we gain control of key cities on Alpha Humana, we will still be facing a civil war not only on our home planet, but in every system the Humani control and even within every Humani unit.” He paused, trying to contemplate the cost. “It will be bloody. Bloody unlike anything the Humani have seen.”

  “But if you are victorious?” posed Wolf.

  “Then what is left of the Humani people will face the wrath of the Doran and Xen.” He rose to his feet, emotion washing over his body. “But we will do it as a free, united people facing our true enemy.”

  “And with your Akota brothers and sisters at your side,” added Shirt-Wearer Falling-sky.

  “As allies?” posed Stone. “The fate of the Humani must be determined by the Humani people, not by the Akota or the Terillian Confederation.”

  “Of course,” replied River with a glance toward the other Shirt-Wearers. “Our culture is one of self-determination. It is—”

  “This is true, uncle,” interrupted Stone, uncharacteristically, “and I mean no disrespect, but you must also be willing to accept that the Humani people may not immediately consider themselves long-lost brothers of the Akota, if at all. Are the Akota prepared to deal with a Humani people that are not willing to accept Akota culture?”

  “But they are Akota,” replied Falling-sky.

  “They were,” said Stone. “Now they…” He paused, his jaw tight. “Now we are different.”

  “This makes sense,”
added River. “But hopefully someday, we can be reunited as brothers.”

  “And that will be a great day, uncle,” said Stone. “But if we win this battle, and the Humani can win the civil war that will surely follow, they will need allies, not long-lost relatives trying to push their culture on them. They must be allowed to find themselves and choose their own path.”

  “We will provide them support without pressure,” said River. “We all must recognize the true enemy are the Xen.”

  “Once the Xen are defeated,” added Wolf. “Then we can deal with the future nature of our relationship with the Humani.”

  Stone nodded his head. “Thank you. I will speak with Admiral Willow and ensure we are ready.”

  “The assault is scheduled to depart for the attack in just over a month, so we will meet again in two weeks,” said River. “In the meantime, report anything that will cause a delay to the assault immediately. We are getting so very close, and we can’t have any problems.”

  “Of course, uncles,” said Stone.

  Chapter 16

  Targus Malius threw back a drink, swallowing hard. Sitting in a private booth inside Diamonds in the Clouds, one of the many upper-class recreation houses in Mt. Castra, he nervously awaited his guest. The vibrations of the music from the main club pulsed against his body as he poured himself another drink. “Where is he?” Targus said aloud, looking at his watch. “Do you see him?” he asked one of two large bodyguards in the room with him.

  The guard opened the door and peered outside. “He’s coming, Sir.”

  In a few seconds, a thin man wearing the uniform of regional magistrate’s office stepped into the room. As he did, the bodyguards stopped him.

  “Why are you in uniform?” demanded Malius.

  “Is this not official business?” asked the man. “I was told by one of your servants to meet you here.” He looked around the room. “This is very odd, Mr. Malius.”

  One of the bodyguards began to frisk the man, roughly checking his pockets.

  “What is the meaning of this?”

  “Sorry, you can’t be too careful.”

  “I do work for the Magistrate, Mr. Malius,” replied the man.

  “Your position in the government means very little nowadays, Mr. Trent.”

  “He is cleared,” said one of the body guards.

  “Come, Mr. Trent, sit,” said Malius, motioning for the man to join him. “And close the door,” he told the bodyguard.

  The man sat next Malius. “Why have you called me here, Sir? And why this place?”

  “What I must say needs to be said away from my father and needs to go directly to Magistrate Varus.”

  “What is this about?”

  “Treason.”

  The man leaned in close to Malius.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Treason on a grand scale,” said Malius. “Against the ProConsul and the First Families in only three days’ time.”

  A knock on the door drew their attention.

  “Who is it? Send them away,” ordered Malius.

  “Yes, Sir,” replied the bodyguards in unison.

  The bodyguard opened the door to a beautiful red-haired woman in a tight red dress. Her hair fell over the front of her shoulders and she held a platter full of drinks.

  “I have a drink for Targus Malius,” she said with a smile.

  “Not now,” he replied. “Leave us—” He paused, rising to his feet. “How do you know—”

  “Wait,” pleaded the woman. “I have a message for you from Magistrate Varus,” she added.

  Malius stood from the couch, his body almost shaking with anxiety. “How did…step inside, quickly,” ordered Malius.

  The woman stepped inside the room and a bodyguard quickly shut the door.

  “Check her for weapons. Quickly.”

  “Where am I going to hide a weapon?” asked the woman.

  “Check her!”

  “Fine,” she replied, setting the platter on a nearby table and raising her hands in the air as the bodyguards began to check her.

  “Now, tell me how—” Malius paused, tilting his head slightly in contemplation. “Don’t I know you?” asked Malius.

  “I doubt it,” replied the woman. “I don’t work here…I’m just a messenger.”

  “No. I know you…” Malius looked over the woman. Her legs were toned and powerful and her waist firm and tight. She was beautiful…and strong, it looked. He then focused on her red hair as one of the bodyguards moved it up, as if in a ponytail, to check the back of her neck. “Paladin!” he shouted.

  ***

  Martin drove her fist into the throat of one of the guards and then sent an elbow crashing into the temple of the second as she pulled a pistol from the first guard’s belt. She spun toward the second guard, placing the barrel against his forehead and firing. The first guard was attempting to push himself off the floor when Martin pinned him to the floor with her shoe, the heel sinking into his skin. In the chaos, Mr. Trent leapt from the couch toward the exit, but Martin fired a round into the side of his head before turning and firing into the guard pinned on the floor.

  “No!” shouted Malius, already backed into the corner of the room. “You can’t—”

  “I just did, you son of a bitch,” interrupted Martin as she walked toward Malius.

  “Everyone will have heard the gunshots,” he said. “You’ve killed yourself.”

  Martin slammed Malius against the wall, pressing the barrel of the pistol against his forehead. “No one heard shit,” she grunted. “You can barely hear any of that chaos outside; what makes you think they will hear anything from the inside?” She pressed the pistol harder against his forehead. “And I know you First Family assholes are too concerned about your privacy for there to be visual monitoring.”

  “Don’t kill me,” he groveled, “I wasn’t—”

  “You were, you little prick. You were going to inform fucking Sequentis Varus about the plot…have your own family killed.”

  “Please don’t…”

  “Oh, I’d kill you just for making me have to wear this fucking dress.” She slammed the pistol against his temple. “But you have done so much more.”

  Malius turned his gaze back toward Martin. Finding resolve in his fate, he spoke.

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “You’d let your family die so you can be ruled by a race of reptiles?”

  “Better than the common trash that infests this planet.”

  Martin slammed the pistol into his temple again.

  A confident smirk came to Malius’s face. “You can’t kill me. Not like this. I am unarmed, with you looking me in the face like you are…you would be killing me in cold blood.”

  Martin threw the pistol onto the floor.

  A smile came to Malius’s face. “I promise I—”

  Malius was interrupted as Martin’s hands tightened around his neck.

  “You really don’t know a fucking thing about me, Targus Malius,” she grunted as she placed all of her strength into her grip on Malius’s neck. He attempted to resist, grabbing at her arm, but Martin slammed her fist into his nose before tightening her grip again. As she felt him begin to weaken, she leaned in close to his ear and spoke softly. “I prefer to look my enemy in the face when I kill them. And as far as a weapon goes, you were ready to kill thousands, maybe millions, with your fucking mouth, so it looks to me like you’re still armed.”

  “Please,” he coughed, trying in vain to break Martin’s grip.

  “Let me tell you what I will think about as I take your life…many years ago, I watched a Humani war dog give its life for Sequentis Varus after he had betrayed my men…all because of a fucking chip in its head.” She felt the tears begin to flow down her cheeks as she saw the terror grow in Malius’s eyes as they flashed back and forth. “Unfortunately for you, I don’t have a chip…just the memory of that dog dying so that traitorous, elitist coward could live. I tell you now, Targus Malius, I wou
ld trade every fucking First Family member on this planet for the one fucking dog.”

  She squeezed hard around his neck as the tears flowed freely down her face, her eyes locked onto his. She watched as red veins began to materialize in the white of his eyes. Soon his coughing and thrashing stopped and his bloodshot, graying eyes froze.

  ***

  Stone lay awake in his stateroom onboard the Akota carrier Winterfall. Staring at the overhead, he tried to run through the order of battle for his invasion force and the operations orders he would need to issue soon. But he couldn’t focus. Rolling to his side, he looked at Mori as she slept. Unable to help himself, he ran his hand over her raven-colored hair. She slowly opened her eyes.

  “What is it?” she asked, her brilliant green eyes still cutting straight to his soul like the very first day they met.

  “You know I love you, right?”

  “Yes,” she replied with a smile. “But it’s okay for you to wait until morning to tell me.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, laughing slightly. “I know it’s late. But in two days everything will be different. I’ve been lying here for hours running every scenario through my mind. And no matter the outcome, Ino’ka, I want to be with you when it is over. I want this, what we have right here. And I want you to know that regardless of whether I am Tyler Stone, Venarius Lucius Stone, Marshall Stone, or Magakisca…whatever…none of those names changes my love for you.”

  He felt her hand caress his cheek.

  “I want this too,” she replied. “One day, when this war is over. I will hold you in my arms every night. And when that time comes, no matter what has taken us to that place, you will be my Magakisca.”

  “But I—”

  Mori silenced him with a passionate kiss.

  “Know that I love you like no other, Magakisca,” she said. “Our fates are intertwined. I have dreamed it and know it will come to be.” The warm pressure of her hand on his chest calmed him. “But we are near battle…we should not talk of the future tonight, but only of our love.”

  “I would rather show you than tell you,” he said, pulling her close against his body, her warmth sending sensations over his body like electric waves.