Books One to Three Omnibus (Armada Wars)

by R. Curtis Venture

  “We’ve left two platoons from Bullseye on the cargo deck to guard them. A third platoon is bedded down. They’ll rotate so everyone gets some rack time.”

  “Bullseye?”

  “Bravo Company, from the 951st. Same thing.”

  “Right. And you think that will be enough?”

  “Probably. Even if all of those prisoners somehow escape, they’ll be gunned down. There are enough troopers down there to start a new colony.”

  Thande sighed. Caden realised it was the first time he had heard the woman breathe.

  “Very well. I’ll defer to your experience with these… people. But, as I said, I’m not happy that you undermined my first officer. I realise I can’t give you orders, but could you please at least make an effort at professional courtesy while you’re aboard my ship.”

  “I think I can manage that.”

  “Good. We’ve been ordered to deliver Bravo Company back to Admiral Pensh, so we’re going to be heading to the Laeara System. Is there anything you need to know about Disputer before you’re shown to your quarters?”

  “I’ll manage. I am curious about one thing though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why were you so much more frosty towards Captain Santani than you are towards me?”

  Thande hesitated for a moment, regarding Caden with a searching expression. She seemed to come to a decision, relaxed a bit more, and sat back in her chair.

  “Santani is very much of the Old Guard. Cocktails on the quarterdeck, drinking stories that involve a rear admiral, internal loyalties put before the chain of command: that sort of thing. She’s stuck in her ways. Her attitude might have been good enough during the slugging matches of the Perseus conflict, but times have changed.”

  “But still, she was just doing her job.”

  “If she had kept herself fully up-to-date with current operating procedures she might still have a ship. As things are, Command is now going to have to furnish the Second Fleet with a replacement ship and crew. Not to mention sending out a couple of hundred death notices.”

  “That is very unfortunate, and I regret my role in it. But in her defence our presence at Woe Tantalum was sanctioned by the Chamberlain.”

  “Are you for real?” Thande sputtered. “The Chamberlain? He knows even less about fleet procedure than Santani does. Hell, even this table knows more than that useless sycophant.”

  “Point taken.”

  “The fleets are commanded by Fleet Command. Clue’s in the name!”

  “Again, Captain; point taken.”

  Thande seemed to realise she was ranting, and calmed down quickly. “They’ve been trying to yank her into the modern era for a long time, and she’s just handed them their opportunity. Even if she isn’t punished for destroying Hammer, Captain Santani will be flying a desk for the rest of her career. I personally don’t want her to see me as an ally in any inquiry that comes out of all this, just because I turned up to bail her out.”

  “So you’re making sure that comes across loud and clear.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, that seems fair.”

  “Oh, don’t feel left out.” Thande gave him a thin smile. “I don’t generally have any fondness for Shards either. Never have done. Put a foot wrong in my ship, and I will do everything I can to snap it off.”

  Caden returned the smile, as thinly as he could. “Nobody is ever pleased to see me.”

  • • •

  Although both Throam and Eilentes had served on a Glory-class carrier before, Throam did not recall ever seeing one quite as literally ship-shape as Thande’s ICS Disputer. She was everything Hammer was not, and not just because that unfortunate battleship had crashed into a planet.

  Disputer was trim, organised, and almost unbearably clean. Crew walked briskly along her passageways, not wasting any time in idle chat. The loudest thing on some decks was the steady thrum of the air cyclers, and the processed atmosphere reeked of sterile formality. It was as if the entire vessel were a reflection of her captain’s personality.

  In some ways it was chilling.

  Throam arrived at a single-width hatch, checked the plate on the bulkhead next to it — twice, just to be sure he was about to enter the right cabin — and slapped the entry panel gratefully. His link pulsed silently as the panel queried it.

  The hatch popped open, and he stepped through the opening to see Eilentes perched on the edge of the bunk. She looked up from her work.

  “Cool, right place. I was sure I’d got turned around out there,” he said.

  “You did serve on the Embolden for an entire Solar; it can’t be that different.”

  “Used to find my way around by all the different crap people left stacked up in the passageways. They’re too fucking clean here; everywhere looks the same.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” Eilentes said. She went back to her work.

  “You’re cleaning your rifle again?”

  “Gotta be ready, just in case Caden ever gets around to asking me to do something actually worthwhile. Anyway, Woe Tantalum was a punishing environment. Ambrast doesn’t like being dirty.”

  “Ambrast? That’s a new one.”

  “Sure is, brand new. Ambrast, the Moachim X50-S Pointseeker. Definitely my favourite boy.”

  Throam sniggered before he could stop himself, and Eilentes stopped cleaning. She placed the scope down carefully in her lap.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, just never got used to you seeing them as your ‘boys’.”

  She resumed her task. “It’s a sharp-shooter thing. You know this already. Our rifles are our friends. More than that; they have to be utterly trustworthy. More so than people.”

  “Why ‘Ambrast’?”

  “He’s the guy who single-handedly took down the Trysk Morsilivan.”

  “Oh yeah. History’s greatest exaggeration.”

  “It was witnessed by an entire regiment.”

  “Bullshit. No fucker does stuff like that in real life — don’t matter how good you are.”

  “Whatever; I’m not his advocate. You asked why the rifle is called Ambrast, and that’s your answer.”

  Throam grinned inwardly at Eilentes’ tone, and watched her for a moment as she dedicated her entire attention to cleaning the weapon. She was trying hard to not look at him at all.

  “So, you know… while you’re messing about with dirty old Ambrast over there, you’re kinda missing out.”

  She replied flatly, without looking up. “Oh, how’s that?”

  “Because you could be messing about with dirty old me in here.” He stepped through the inner hatch to the wash enclosure.

  The enclosure was much better than the basic facilities they had had on Hammer. It was a bigger space for a start, and actually closed off from the rest of the quarters. The shower cubicle was full size. More importantly, the toilet was full size as well. Luxury! Later on he would thoroughly enjoy breaking that in.

  A faintly illuminated green strip surrounded the curved door of the cubicle, indicating that it was safe to use liquid water. He opened the door and turned on the flow.

  Now that it knew a hot shower was in its future, his body began to tell him about the cost of the trip to Woe Tantalum’s surface. Aches and pains sprang up all over. He peeled off his under-layer gingerly, and dropped it on the floor.

  The water temperature must have risen almost immediately, because the mirrored wall of the enclosure was already steaming up. He examined his body quickly, before the opportunity went away.

  His left forearm felt like it was made of iron. He folded the arm, as far as he could with his biceps muscle in the way, and lifted it above his shoulder. Sure enough, there was a faint bruise around the elbow. His skin was naturally dusky, but there was no mistaking that area of dull red-brown. Soon it would be purple, then black and yellow.

  His back stung, and he twisted at the waist, craning his neck over his right shoulder to try and look in the mirror. For most peop
le the manoeuvre would have been a simple one; for Throam, his wide neck almost immediately came up against a thick wedge of trapezius muscle. He tried to drop his shoulder on that side.

  It was difficult to find, thanks to the ungainly angle, his tattoos, and the gradually misting mirror, but it was definitely there: almost camouflaged by the pattern of his back-piece, a long, thin gash ran across the top of his right lat. How the hell had that happened? He made a mental note to check his outer armour, extra carefully.

  It was becoming difficult to see anything in the mirror now, despite the moisture reclamation system, and he decided to get in the shower. He was sure that if there were any other injuries which needed attention, the hot water would reveal them. It usually worked.

  Throam sang to himself while he lathered up, not caring that he was off key. He had always been of the opinion that sheer volume counted for a lot more than being in tune.

  When he was halfway through brutally murdering the second verse, the door of the cubicle juddered. The sound was accompanied by a burst of cold air. The soap meant he could not open his eyes, but he smiled anyway: the intrusion could only really mean one thing.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” came the reply.

  Her left hand landed on his hip; the other over his own hand, the one in which he held a body scrubber, and Eilentes moved it around in small circles on his chest. She brought their hips together, and his smile broke into a grin as he felt an erect nipple slide lightly across the top of his abdomen. He pulled her lithe body in with his empty hand, and felt her standing on tip-toes to kiss his lips. He craned his neck downwards, lowering his mouth towards hers.

  Eilentes let go of his hand, moving hers down to assist the other in cradling his buttocks. A surge began to rise, and he looped his now freed arm around her and pulled her in tight. Her breasts squashed up under the overhang of his pecs, and he turned towards the bulkhead, taking her with him. Water cascaded over his head as they moved into the flow, rinsing the foam out of his hair and down his face. It washed over them both, some trickling down his cleavage and pooling in hers.

  They were still kissing, and Eilentes pulled his hips farther in towards her, harder, rubbing herself against the front of his thighs. Her body was athletic — always had been — and he could feel her slick abdominals tensing and undulating against his crotch. The surge rose, fell, rose higher, became a throb, throb, throb, and swelled between them. He grabbed her neck with one hand, his thumb under her jaw, and kissed harder. Each breath was forced through his nostrils, heavy and raggedly uncontrolled.

  She broke her mouth away with a jerk, panting.

  “Tell me what you’re going to do,” she breathed urgently.

  Throam backed her against the wet bulkhead, used both hands to slide her whole body up it, and pushed his pelvis between her thighs. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he held her up on one arm. The other hand went back to her neck. She turned her head, twisting her throat into his grip, then took his wrist with one hand, grabbed his shoulder with the other, and arched her back as he planted his feet wide and pushed up inside her.

  “Gonna fuck your fucking snatch off.”

  “So romantic!” She gasped.

  • • •

  Two decks up, and seven compartments across, Caden and Santani had intercourse of a very different sort.

  “Condescending bitch!” Santani fumed. “Doesn’t she realise I just lost half my crew?”

  Caden decided to give her a moment before replying. After leaving Thande he had immediately sought out Santani’s quarters, and found her — despite the awkwardness of her injured leg and its rigid casing — pacing back and forth in a rage. There was a comical air to her wobbly venting which Caden tried very hard not to react to.

  “I mean, not even ‘I’m sorry for your losses, I’ve arranged for your survivors to see the bereavement counsellor’. Straight in with the recriminations.”

  “Look at it from her point of view,” Caden said. “She gets a reinforcement request, jumps across the galaxy, and finds the captain who called her up has already crashed her own ship into a planet. That’s going to surprise and annoy anyone.”

  “I really don’t care how she feels about it. What was I supposed to do? Stay in orbit and get ripped to pieces? Flee, and leave you all down there?”

  “I know, Aker. I know.”

  “Now that miserable twat is deciding how many ways I went wrong, and she’ll be passing that along to Command.”

  “Don’t get hung up on that.” Caden raised his palms. “Yes, there will be an inquiry. But they’ll only really be interested in her sensor logs and statements of fact. They don’t need her opinions; they can form their own.”

  Santani looked at him with an incredulous expression, and sneered. “Oh yeah, because that’s how it works.”

  Can’t really argue with that, thought Caden. But then maybe you want to stay angry, because you can’t face up to what you’ve just done. You selfish bitc— No! Get a grip. That’s not how I see her. That’s not what I think. That’s the Emptiness talking.

  He realised she was waiting for him to say something, and decided on a change of tack.

  “How is Commander Klade?”

  Santani stopped pacing and turned to face him, pivoting on her healthy leg. She hesitated, the anger slowly melting away, and eventually sat down.

  “Better. Stable. He was brought up to Disputer and moved to sickbay.”

  “Good to hear.”

  “Thank you for asking.”

  He hesitated. “I’m… not blind to the fact that this happened largely because of me.”

  She didn’t reply.

  “Before, on Woe Tantalum, you asked me if it was worth it.”

  “I’m sorry about the way I spoke to you. I was in a bit of a state.”

  “Yes, I realise that; don’t worry about it. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you to lose so many people, to feel responsible. But it wasn’t in vain, Aker. You know that. You heard what Brant said about those weapons; because of us whole worlds will be spared a miserable fate.

  “A lot has happened in the past few days. A lot of strange things. Now we know that the Empire has undeclared enemies, and we have some idea of what they’re capable of. If it hadn’t been for Hammer, we’d all be dead, and the Empire would be none the wiser about what’s happening.”

  “The cost was too high,” she said.

  “I don’t mean to trivialise what you’re going through, but that remains to be seen. Don’t forget there are still plenty of those weapons out there. We won’t know the scale of what we’ve prevented until they’re used. And for all we know right now, that’s the least of our worries.”

  Santani wiped her eyes quickly, as if she didn’t want him to notice. “Do you think the Viskr are behind all this?”

  “I did, but I’m not so sure since we found Morlum. He said the Viskr don’t control the Rasas. The ones we tangled with weren’t using typical Viskr tactics, and they weren’t anywhere near as capable as they should have been, either. Also let’s not forget there were plenty of Viskr in amongst those Rasas we killed and captured. The Junta has troops on tap; why would it need to zombify its own people?”

  “So someone else is behind the Rasas.”

  “I’d bet anything that whoever controls that dreadship of yours is pulling the strings. Somehow using Viskr and humans as if they’re puppets, and taking our ships.”

  “You think they have the Empire’s weapons, too?”

  “It would be a safe assumption.”

  “If that’s all true, then Amarist Naeb would be one of their agents.”

  “And she has fled. That would imply either that they wanted her back badly, or she had some kind of objective to complete at Fort Kosling.”

  “I doubt it’s the latter,” Santani said. “How could anyone have predicted you’d turn up? That you’d move her to that particular fortress?”

  “So the questions are… what’s
so damned important about Amarist Naeb, and how exactly was she recalled?”

  • • •

  Throam had just about stopped short of being true to his word. He was usually an animal in the bedroom, but this time he had been much more primal than that. Not just a mere animal, but a beast: demanding, aggressive… almost frenzied.

  Eilentes took her time in the wash enclosure, cleaning and soothing herself carefully. On the one hand, she had needed that for a good long while now. But on the other hand… she might not actually be able to walk from here to the bunk without wobbling.

  She stepped through the hatch into the main compartment, grabbed the bulkhead for support, and almost winced.

  Throam was laying on his back with his hands behind his head, completely naked and spread-eagled across the entire bunk. She watched his chest and stomach rise and fall rapidly, saw the bumped ridges of veins embossed on his shoulders and arms, distorting the flow of his tattoos. He was still pumped up.

  He raised his head at the sound of her movements, and gave her a smile that mixed triumph with deep satisfaction.

  Don’t you look pleased with yourself, she thought.

  “How’d you like that?” He asked.

  “That was… something else,” she said, starting to towel-dry her jet-black hair.

  He watched her slender frame as she dried off. “Fuck yeah.”

  “You’re still juicing, right?”

  “I might be.”

  “A proper cycle?”

  “You could say that.”

  “I did see the marks. You’re obviously injecting on top of your orals.”

  “Fine, yes; I’m injecting again.”

  “You’re not just using steroids, are you?”

  “I upped my doses.”

  “Rendir, please. I’ve seen what you’re like on high doses. You’ve never been like that before. What else are you taking?”

  Throam rolled his eyes at her.

  “Are you mixing in some stims? Little bit of White Thunder? What? Come on, you can tell me.”

  “Just a heavy cycle.”

  “No, it’s more than that. You were pretty rough in there.”