War Master Candidate Omnibus
Page 42
“Yes.” Midas chimes in.
“And what might that be?” I ask with a tinge of confusion in my voice.
“The reason it has to be a Guild specific mission…” Midas says cryptically.
Then my mind comes into focus all at once. I can feel the thoughts of Darius spilling over into mine. I’m now guessing that his gift is something of a ‘two-way’ street, to a certain degree.
“Kara has trace amounts of our DNA, doesn’t she?” I ask.
“And now you see why you were initiated as a War Master, my dear!” Val chuckles.
“But her genes would be diluted, and still in their rawest form. How is that relevant, exactly?” I ask.
“I have – unintentionally – awakened her genetic code, apparently,” Darius says as if he forgot to pull out or something.
“And in doing so, Kara has become something quite different than what any of us has ever imagined,” Val says. “Midas and I predicted that someone like Darius would emerge millennia ago, but we never anticipated Kara.”
Darius leans over to catch my eye, and I turn to look at him. “It would seem part of my ‘uniqueness’ stems from the fact that my genes awoke themselves. Unlike many others of our kind, mine manifested their potential as the need arose. I believe my deep bonding with Kara reacted a similar fashion with her trace amounts of DNA that we share. Perhaps some of her own DNA may have evolved, or mutated in response to it. She has her own unique set of gifts, you see?”
Fuck me in the ass with a porcupine! I am floored. Even though I’m a genetic freak sitting amongst an immortal and a space messiah, I still can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“So, I can sense her if I get close enough?” I ask.
Val shrugs with a skeptical wince on his face. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Darius and I have the strongest genetic gifts of all, and we can only detect obscure glimmers of something that may indicate she’s alive. Our gifts are strong with proximity, but the deepest sensations we feel are entangled on a quantum level. Why else would direct physical contact make our kind do such cool things?”
“That’s the reason?” I gasp. “I always figured it was more complicated or mystical, even!”
“Well, it’s not like quantum entanglement is simple, but that’s pretty much it. When we make direct contact, we’re promoting entanglement. Our bodies react to one another on a subatomic level. That’s why our bonds are lasting, and we can sense the people or Zodiacs we’ve had the most experience with.”
“But I could sense Peterson, and I barely ever made physical contact with him.”
“True, but our genes have lots of neat little tricks up their sleeves.” Val chuckled.
“Speaking of Peterson…” Darius chimed in. “He will be coming with you.”
“What the f- … Why?” I spout.
“I’d hate to admit it, but he has made it his career to hunt us down for centuries. If anyone can find someone with bits of our DNA, then it would be him.” Val said. I’m not happy about it, but I can feel the flooding sensations of empathy and compassion flooding through me from both Val and Darius. They knew I wouldn’t like it. I hate it, in fact. But I can’t argue with their logic.
“So who else will be joining this search party?” I ask. I make a mental effort not to roll my eyes.
“Well, we’d like you to use the surviving crew, of course…” Darius says, but I cut him off.
“Surviving crew?” I blurt out.
“Yes.” Darius calmly answers. “Two of the Foehammer’s current crew members are undergoing some body augmentations right now, so they were off the ship. I believe you know, Elizabeth and her tiger, Napo?”
I blush. They must know we’ve done dirty things to each other a few times… or like a few dozen times, at this point.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I knew she was once a crew member, but I didn’t realize she was still on their active roster.”
“She and Napo both are. They stayed behind to make sure the two former cops recover their procedure and get back on their feet. Also, Major David, who’s an experienced UAHC Soldier. Then Major Ives, who’s a UDF officer. Captain Kelley, who’s an excellent weapons control officer and Major David’s right hand. Sergeant Jefe is a rough and tough UAHC Soldier. Unlike Elizabeth, the others were enjoying some time off. The Foehammer was only close to the battle because it was on a close intersect vector to pick them up.” Darius explained.
“Then how in the hell did Kara know we were being attacked? She was in slip-space, and was coms dark!” I ask.
“It’s her thing,” Darius said. “I don’t know for sure, but if she was asleep when the Mwargoths set their trap, then she may have pulled it out of her dreamscape. We don’t know for sure, but she’s been working to make sense of her dreams. They seem to be her access to interdimensional energies.”
“I see.” At least I think I see. This is all new to me, and I’m trying to wrap my head around it. It seems I’ve missed a lot of weird shit while in exile!
“So, we’ll add Jack to the mix, and…” Darius starts to say.
“Who’s Jack?” I interrupt.
“Peterson… Jack is his real name, or so he tells us.” Darius politely answers. “Naturally, Shade will come with him to make sure he doesn’t cause any grief for you.”
“Shade?” I ask.
“Shadow’s grandmother. She is the widow of Sundown.” Val chimes in.
Sundown? Fuck me in the ass with a super-sized porcupine! That’s the legendary paired mount of the Mighty Kaylen! He is our greatest hero!
“Wow! That’s a tremendous honor, all told.” I gasp.
“But the next entries, you may not care for…” Val says, carefully. I turn to shoot him a serious look.
“Speak of the devil!” Darius exclaims. I look up to see an older man in a blood-red Crimson Alliance dress uniform. He’s got five stars on his lapel. Fuck!
I push back my pride and stand to greet him as he approaches. His short black hair is tinged with grey, and he’s built solidly. He approaches with an ambiguously sincere smile and extends his hands in greeting. I take his in mine and make sure to fight the urge to crush every bone in his hand.
“It’s an honor to meet the heroic War Master Katherine!” He says diplomatically. I play nice for now.
“The honor is mine… err.” I don’t see a name tag. Derp!
“Varle Singleton. I am the Military Chancellor of the Crimson Alliance.” He declares. Then he looks around the room as if he expects to see someone in particular. “Where is my UAHC counterpart? I figured he would be here?”
Darius shook his hand. “I’m afraid Military Consul Gerhardt is a few thousand light-years rim-ward from here aboard the Battleship Hailstorm. He has to deal with our true enemy directly.”
Singleton seems taken back. “You mean the Mwargoths are engaging the main UAHC Fleet?”
Darius shakes his head and pulls a solemn look across his face. “Worse I’m afraid! The UAHC Civil Quorum’s budget oversight committee!”
The men break out in roaring laughter, and I’m smiling awkwardly. I don’t know any of this political shit, and I don’t care to. I let them all get their jollies for a few moments.
“Well then, I suppose you’ll want to meet your Crimson ‘augmentees’, then?” Singleton says to me as if I know what the fuck he’s talking about.
“Well…” Darius chimes in awkwardly. “We haven’t gotten to that part of her in-brief, as of yet.”
“Oh, I see!” Singleton’s eyes formed a fake-looking sense of surprise. I’m not buying any of this man’s bullshit. For all I know, he ordered the attack on my temple personally. “Speaking of your team, do you need any fighters, or perhaps back up pilots?”
Darius says to me privately.
“I’ve got the pilot spot covered, Chancellor. But thank you for the offer.” Darius says politely. Singleton seems to fane acceptance, but I can see the gears turning in his head.
“Very well, Fleet Marshall!” Singleton slaps the side of Darius’ arm. I can feel his disgust without having to be melded with his emotions. But he plays is cool, and keeps a diplomatic smile on his face.
He replies. I shouldn’t have bothered to ask. Not only did she spend nine months pretending to be a Crimson Officer, but she did so under the command of one of the three ‘Petersons’… The nastiest one, at that... Zedd, the rapist!
“I feel honored that you would personally deliver your troops to us, Chancellor,” Darius says as we walk out of the room, and towards the lift.
“It was nothing, really!” Singleton spits out his farcical humility. “I was coming here anyway. I wanted to personally observe the search and rescue process, and see how the resources I sent to help were working out.”
This man is a catastrophic fuck-bag! If the Crimson Alliance didn’t have the largest single military in all of human existence, then I’m sure Darius would be happy to remove his spine with his bare hands… but he would have to try and beat me to it first!
We go down the lift, out of the CIC secured area, and out to the mag-train. I sit there and listen to the empty platitudes, and political maneuvering as we go. I don’t understand a shred of what they’re talking about. None of it is military related. It seems Singleton is weaseling his way into the bountiful trade routes that the inner stars enjoy. A master politician… weaving his endless web of shenanigans and fuckery all over the place.
Eventually, we make it to the command staff dock, and we walk up to large berthing. I see a late-model UAHC frigate perched in landing cradles, so as to negate the need for the retractable landing struts. I’m told it makes it easier for a pilot to land, and it makes maintaining the landing gear a snap. Honestly, I don’t give five fucks… I just want to stab this motherfucker.
You might be wondering, by now… ‘Why isn’t Katherine acting like an enlightened War Master who’s at one with the universe?’ It’s simple… most War Masters achieve some semblance of enlightenment after centuries of meditation, experience, and prayer… All I know is how to disembowel someone with a drinking straw, or perhaps a few Uno cards.
“Allow me to introduce your augmentees, Katherine,” Singleton says as he gestures his hands out beyond the thruster array of the frigate. I look over to see a row of spec ops commandos in their blood red armor. They stood shoulder to shoulder and held their multi-purpose rifles at the ready.
“Crimson Agents? Paramilitary commandos?” I ask.
“No, these fellas are rank and file. The Agency has been dissolved by own hand. Their personnel has either been court-martialed, imprisoned, or sent to front-line standard infantry units. These men and women are commando qualified, but they aren’t slithering snakes like those zealot idiots were.” Singleton says.
It sounds like he’s trying to sell me on his bulbous sack of lies. A simple ‘no’ would have been enough to ease my fears, but the extra detail and sales-pitch like inflections send up a red flag in my mind. My only solace is the knowledge that I’ll have Marbles, and another War Master covering my six.
It’s still weird to say ‘another War Master,’ by the way. I still haven’t embraced my title, as of yet.
“I count twelve,” I say.
“Yes, this is the standard makeup of a spec ops team. Captain, Warrant officer, and two five-man elements of NCO’s.” He explains.
“Have they had a chance to settle in?” Darius asks.
“I should think not. I came to see you right after we landed. They’ve been standing by since I touched down.” Singleton replied.
“Not in formation the whole time, surely?” I say.
“I hope not!” He fakes compassion. I test… he fails.
“May I speak to their commander?” I ask.
“Certainly!” Singleton says and then makes a few subtle movements in his facial musculature. I read it as a tell for neural interface coms.
The man, all the way on the left flank, comes running towards us. He slows to a brisk walk when he gets within thirty paces, and then stops at attention about six paces out.
“And you are?” I ask.
“Captain Frick, Madam War Master!” He sounds off. I can’t see his features behind his visor, and his speech unit has a standardized male voice. He may well be a damned cyborg, for all I know.
“War Master is fine, Captain,” I say. “Where is all of your personal gear?”
“We off-loaded it in the next berthing over, War Master.” He replies.
“Captain Frick, is it?” Darius chimes in.
“Yes, sir!”
“Please have your men stand at ease. I’ll send for the ground crew to gather your unit equipment, and have them secured in the frigate’s armory. The gunner’s mate, Sergeant Jefe will be along shortly to give you a tour of the vessel, and help you get your troops settled in.”
“Where is the rest of your crew?” Singleton asked.
“They’re already onboard,” Val answered up.
“I see,” Singleton said. I got the feeling that he was expecting us to give him a tour of the ship. That’s the kind of useless dog and pony show he was probably accustomed to. But nobody said a word.
“Chancellor?” Val comes in for the save! “Would you like to see our staging area for the rescue operation? The GBE folks have an impressive set up over there in the next bay.”
Singleton’s slimy form perked up, and he nodded like a kid being offered candy. Fucking idiot!
We exchange our formal goodbyes, and Val takes the shit-head into the next docking bay. I noticed a palpable absence of handlers for a man of his rank, but then I shook off the thought. I was just glad to be rid of him.
Darius turns to me. “I’d better go and be a good host, as well as Val’s wing-man.”
“I understand,” I say with a smile. “You know, I still don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing right now.”
“None of us do, Kat!” He smiles. “That’s the fun part of living!” he says, as he walks off.
I was fucking serious. I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing right now. As a candidate, everyone tried to tell me what to do all the time… Now that I’m a War Master, they don’t tell you to do shit!
Come to think about it… That’s pretty fucking cool, actually!
CLOSE QUARTERS
Marbles and I walk up the boarding ramp of the frigate that leads into the underbelly of the hull. The ship is brand-spanking new, as far as I can tell, and the scent of fresh paint on the entrance foyer confirms my supposition.
The foyer looks more like a cozy hotel lobby than a starship’s interior. I get the feeling that this vessel is designed for long autonomous voyages through space, and is decked out nicely in order to reduce the stress levels of her crew.
The walls are ornately painted with textures of light green color, and they are topped with subtle gloss-white cro
wn molding. What’s the deal with crown molding on a starship? I think to myself. Some of the LRF’s, including my own have it also. Which is odd, of course. An LRF-90’s berthing area has rounded off bulkheads that transition to a slightly domed ceiling. Many of the UAHC and Unum ships are jazzed up as well. I can’t help but wonder what the taxpayers think about funding so much pomp and circumstance.
As I take stock in the elegance of the bulkheads, Marbles plops down into one of the eight plush seating arrangements that fill the space. “I could get used to this!” He says.
I roll my eyes as I swagger over towards him. I’m making a conspicuous effort to exude smug body language in the process. “You’re an infantry drone, knucklehead!” I muse. “You are just as comfortable in a standing position!”
“Says you!” He retorts as he waves me off.
“Well, whatever,” I say as I turn away to get a closer look at a nearby painting. It’s got a gold painted wooden frame, and it’s been distressed to assimilate aging. The picture is familiar to me. It’s an oil relief of a horse-mounted cavalry charge with period-specific British uniforms and weapons. I’m guessing it’s the doomed cavalry charge during the Crimean War that inspired the famous poem, Charge of the Light Brigade.
As if the universe hasn’t given me freakishly inspired forethought enough, I hear a British accent behind me.
“Cheers, War Master!” I hear a youthful sounding male voice behind me. I turn to see a GBE officer in light armor walking up the ramp and into space. He’s a Royal Marine Captain if my knowledge of British regalia is up to date.
“Greetings, Captain!” I say as I extend my hand in greeting. He takes mine in turn, and I lock eyes with him. He’s got dirty blonde hair with a hint of red, and a youthful pail face. I can’t decide if he’s naturally pasty, or if he’s been out in the black for an extended period of time. Given the distance of travel from GBE controlled space, I assume it’s the latter.