Cheers went up, along with obscenities aimed at the Zhur Thoggu, rather than Brams himself.
As Brams continued, a small figure, details hidden behind a dark hooded cloak, managed to squeeze themselves through the picket line of guards and shock troopers and ran towards Bramion and Ney. The two Neophyte snapped their heavy gauss rifles across the others, forming a cross to block the small person.
Flores’ danger sense screamed at her, the Astrals seeming to demand her to stop the infiltrator. Her free hand came up and she exerted herself, stopping the figure dead in its tracks. The Neophytes took a step back as they saw the tormented, anguished look on the diminutive man’s face.
Something shiny dropped from hand. As Calista Flores attempted to halt it with additional Channeling the man spoke.
“I’m sorry - “
He exploded. The shockwave knocking Brams, his troopers, Flores and Gil flying back thirty feet. Laying on the group, her guard uniform’s helmet having protected her face and hearing, she looked towards the attacker. The young Edo, along with the man, were gone, having been caught fully in the blast of what she assumed was a thermal detonator, or a suit of explosives.
In shock, she watched as Gil recovered enough to run over to Brams and help him up. Gil asked if he was ok but clearly Brams couldn’t hear, having been temporarily deafened by the explosion. Brams’ suit had armor built into it so he had escaped mostly unharmed, except for some deep shrapnel cuts across the side of his head.
She’d lost them. She, the Edo Mushur, had failed Sys Bramion and Elen Ney. She realized how little personal time she’d spent with them, how little she knew of them, and now how she would never get to know them. Because of her.
Gil looked around at her, but she felt as though she were encased in rock, unable to move or act. To think that she had thought she would be better used as a Fist of the Dominion. She had failed to stop even just one man.
Calista’s danger sense flashed again, but she ignored it. She saw Gil spin around and a trio of dark figures leapt over the line of troopers to land near Gil and Brams. She saw them raise gauss rifles, watched as Gil had no option but to drop his own rifle and bring his favored pair of Astral swords into being, their crackling seemingly the only sound in the galaxy as the entire crowd held its collective breath. The luminous, semi-transparent swords danced and whirled as if alive as he masterfully blocked the bullets aimed at him and Brams, diverting them into the ground. She felt Gil call urgently to her, but it was if she were outside her body, powerless to control it.
Then, surprise registering mildly even through her stupor, she watched as the attackers broke off and with the grace of gymnasts effortlessly evaded the oncoming guards and shock troopers to fade back into the crowd, as if they had never existed.
Sys.
Elen.
Chapter Seven
The Commonwealth inner Representatives shouted angrily as the holographic projector replayed the scene on loop. The tall Imperial Defender, armor badly damaged, producing a pair Astral swords to defend himself and the Imperial Dominion’s High Doyen. Each time the Astral weapons sprang magically into life a fresh roar erupted from the incensed politicians.
This was it, this was all they needed, thought Olsen Carver. I won’t be able to stop them. It was no surprise that Martilda Cutmaster lead the pack.
“Premier, I must insist that a full session of the Assembly be called. The Edo have gone too far. Too far!” Her skeletally thin arms gesticulated wildly, as though trying to join in with their own demands.
Idrid Matour, the Egerician Representative seconded the request and it was so it was done. Olsen sighed, probably one of the most heart-felt he had ever made. He shook his head sadly.
“Please enter it into the records. An extraordinary meeting of the Assembly is to be held with all haste. Signal all Commonwealth Representatives who are within travelling distance that their attendance is required.”
“One further request, if you will, Premier,” enquired Cutmaster, her manners a complete charade. Carver nodded at her, but looked away, unable to bear looking at the horrendous woman.
“Have Sord Okarachebe attend, as leader of the Edo he should be prepared to explain their actions.”
He knew a stitch-up job when he saw one. The other Representatives expressed what a wonderful suggestion it was, leaving him with no option.
“As you wish. Have an invitation extended to Mushur Okarachebe.”
He looked around at them all. Carver thought that he understood politicians, and accepted that there was a need for them to be how there were. But not in this case. Loathing spilled from him, he hoped that they couldn’t see his hatred for them past his carefully controlled veneer.
“I hope you all realize what you are doing,” he said quietly.
“Oh we do,” said Cutmaster, maintaining a self-satisfied expression. “We do indeed.”
Master Crafter Jent’i Tasshik watched the final shuttle approach the docking hangar. He shuddered to think how pitiful the Zhur Thoggu had become, to be so reliant on the human’s pitiful attempts at inorganic technology. Once an outpost had been established in the old Nushothi Forest Enclave they would no longer need the Imperials. There they would begin anew, growing in strength until they were finally strong enough to complete the task they had set out to do - conquer this wretched galaxy.
He flexed a hand careful, subconsciously. Slowly the shuttle settled on the deck of this heinous affront to life, a so-called Battleship. The last of his Zhur Thoggu descended its ramp and were directed away to their ‘quarters’, as the Imperial Commander had called them, by their heavily armed warriors in their lifeless, ridiculously oversized armor. Why they wore it, Jent’i Tasshik had no idea. Nanite blades, drones, even a Krostive dagger sliced through their armor like it wasn’t even there - a testament to how Zhur Thoggu technology towered over this galaxy’s inorganic infancy.
Once this final shuttle departed the fleet would begin the ten day trip to their new beginning. Tasshik, having no trust in humans, suspected that the Imperials may not quite live up to their end of the bargain. No matter, he and the other Zhur Thoggu leaders had prepared for that with a small surprise of their own. Let them attempt their betrayal. They will realize how futile it is to oppose the Zhur Thoggu when we are truly prepared.
This time, there was a brittle silence as Riccard Brams entered, yet again, the Doyen council meeting chamber. His two remaining Imperial Defenders were met with growls and scowls as they followed him in.
Doyen Urnit, predictable to the last, leapt to his feet. “Brams, I must protest!” Several other Doyen’s also vocalized their displeasure. Brams stood by his seat and waited. Urnit remained standing, face flushed with anger.
“Doyen Urnit, must I have you shot again? I think without the stun setting this time.”
Alarmed, Urnit sagged into his seat, and glared impotently at Riccard.
“Shame,” said Brams as he seated himself. He had not missed how Urnit had called him by name rather than his title.
Doyen Weststar raised a hand. “If I may, Sir?”
Brams nodded, “Of course, Doyen Weststar. I do appreciate a man with good manners, even if his other activities do leave a sour taste in one’s mouth.”
Weststar frowned slightly at his dig but continued without missing a beat.
“Thank you, High Doyen.” Theatrically, Weststar swept his hands around to encompass all the other Doyen’s in the room. “We would like to express our, ah, displeasure over two things. Both being related to your guards here. First is the manner in which we discovered the second, that your Imperial Defenders, or at least one of them, is a Edo.”
“Weststar, as I have mentioned previously, I am not answerable to you or any of your peers. I alone rule this Dominion.”
“Sir, I do not argue - “
“The Edo are enemies of the Dominion!” shouted in Urnit, who leapt to his feet again. “The Edo helped the Commonwealth defeat us time and time again! You insul
t us all by conspiring with them.”
“Urnit…” warned Brams.
“No! Shoot me if you must. Today, I am disgusted to be an Imperial. The Emperor would not have allowed this. He would be killing them, not working with them. This is a black day for the Dominion.”
Urnit spat on the table, and moved to leave but paused when he saw that Brams’ shock troopers had their guns trained on him. He looked to Brams, defying him.
Things were already bad enough. He had known that eventually the Edo would be revealed, he just hadn’t expected it so soon. He would have to escalate quickly his seeking out of the mole. He couldn’t risk further backlash by shooting or arresting Urnit.
“Let him go,” Brams said quietly. “Escort him back to his craft, he has many pressing matters back home that he needs to attend to.” Urnit frowned but didn’t argue, he knew it could be worse, much worse.
As Urnit left, Brams stood and started walking around the table. This needs to be good.
“Yes, I have asked the Edo to assist me. Yes, I kept this from you. Why, you ask? There are those, who I am sure number amongst you, who seek to see me deposed as High Doyen. Unfortunately, rather than be open about it, and seek a change via the democratic process they work in secret, and ally themselves with dark forces. I believe they are responsible for the terrorist attacks on our bases and planets. They look to weaken me, my support and the strength of the Dominion itself. The Edo are here to help me find the perpetrators, and when I do,” he said, looking straight at Weststar, “they will be tried and sentenced for treason. I will make sure their deaths will be slow and painful. Maybe a trip to the Dark Nest of Eunleen would suffice.”
“Now,” he said, “rather than discuss the Edo, I would much rather discuss these enemies of the Dominion. If any of you have information that would lead to their arrest I would be quite happy to discuss with you in private. I’m sure full immunity could be granted should the information prove advantageous.”
Brams stopped and smiled at Weststar, who couldn’t help but betray his nerves by swallowing. He started pacing again. “These people are doomed. I invite you to avoid their fate.”
Lee had insisted Raif and Nate meet him and the others at the FleetTech manufacturing plant, on Havalor, a planet in the Imperial Dominion-held Havalon sector. Intrigued, Ko had agreed. Lee had provided official FleetTech ID for them and so it had been no trouble at all to gain clearance to land at the starport. On the outskirts of Havalor City, covering an area equivalent to a third of the city itself, the FleetTech factory provided work for a large fraction of the populace. With the civil war on the southern continent having ended decades ago, the planet was thriving, having managed to escape the Zhur Thoggu war relatively unharmed. FleetTech itself was still manufacturing highly popular ships, including the one all of the ex-Gladiator squadron loved: the Nebula fighter. It didn’t take Raif’s Astral intuition to figure out that they were here to pick up some Nebula fighters.
The two aging Edo Mushur wondered what Lee had managed to rustle up at such short notice.
“My credits are on some old Mark II’s,” said Nate. “Some of those old relics were probably on display in a factory museum.”
“Hey,” said Ko, elbowing Nate as they made their way towards the hanger Lee had specified, having borrowed a small wheeled personnel transport. “Don’t hate so much on old relics. They can still get the job done, you just have to be a bit gentler with them.”
Shepherd winked back, and pretended to hobble as he walked, making Ko laugh.
“I think he’s managed to get us some Recons,” mused Ko after a moment. “Think about it, they’d be perfect for us on this mission.”
“True, but those things are as rare as an honest Buderimian.”
Raif laughed. “Nothing’s as rare as an honest Buderimian. I should know.”
Finally, they made their way through the gargantuan, labyrinthine FleetTech factory to their designated hanger. The hanger itself was enormous, and the ceiling so high that mist formed, giving the impression of clouds and you could almost be mistaken for thinking you were outside.
They drove around ships on production lines in various stages of completion, Nebulas and Starhawks still clearly very much in demand.
“I told you,” crowed Raif, “Recon Nebulas!”
They’d found the old Gladiators, engaged in some kind of heated debate. The stood next to a group of black, star-speckled Nebula fighters. They looked very much like Recons, but as they neared they both frowned, baffled.
“They’re not…” murmured Ko.
“They look full size,” said Shepherd. “How can that be?”
Lee spotted them as they approached and he pointed out the Edo to the other Gladiators, Shawn Moller, August Durante, and Dang Obasanji. Shawn and August looked old, thought Ko as he and Shepherd leapt from the vehicle into a sea of cheering, hugging and backslapping. I guess I look old too. Raif wasn’t sure how old Dang was, and couldn’t tell if he looked any older. Maybe Nate’s right and we are just aging relics, too old to be gallivanting around the galaxy now, thinking we can make a difference.
“So,” said Ko after the happy reunion and introductions of the Gladiators to Nate Shepherd were finished. “What’s the story with these beauties?”
Lee smiled broadly. “These are just a little something I’ve been working on together with FleetTech. Fame has its benefits.”
Lee went on to explain that they were the latest version of the standard Nebula fighter, the Mark IV, but had been adapted with technology from the Recon. A lot of work and research had gone into the Recon’s gravatic modulator and sensor damping suite, reducing them both massively in terms of their physical dimensions, allowing the ship to have the normal XJ7 complement of three torpedo bays whilst still retaining all of the XJ7’s weapon systems and enhanced shields. The black sensor-masking material that clad the ships had also been reduced in thickness, minimizing mass. In essence, it was a fully-featured, fully maneuverable Mark IV but with almost Recon level stealth capabilities.
“Of course, they’re not cheap - the only real drawback,” said Lee, still positively brimming with happiness and pride. “Getting the modulator and damping suite down in size was extremely expensive. FleetTech aren’t sure they’ll ever recoup their investment but they wanted to thank me for making the Nebula fighter so popular.”
“Are they giving us fighter robots too?” asked Durante. None of them had had time to bring their own robots.
“Sure are. X4’s. We had toyed with integrating X4 brains into the ships themselves as it would have reduced weight but I decided I like fighter robots just as they are.” Nobody argued, they’d all had their skins saved on more than one occasion by their robot flying partners.
Moller rubbed his hands together. “I don’t know about the rest of you but I’m excited to fly one. When do I get to show you old timers how to fly one?”
“Now,” said Lee. “They’ve already had their shake-down flights. They’ve been refueled, the X4’s are in and they’re ready for launch. The only thing FleetTech have requested is a flyby.”
Moller waggled his grey-flecked eyebrows. “Aye, Aye, Capt’n. I’m sure we can give them a good show.”
August groaned. “Please tell me they expressly forbid Shawn to join in?”
“I’m sure they know Shawn enough to have realized it wouldn’t have mattered even if they had,” said Dang.
“Anyone mind me shooting at them? I promise I’ll miss.”
“I’m afraid, my dear, that time is running out for me.”
Danica Prilission, sat closely by, like she seemed to do more often now, looked at him sadly.
“I think you might be right, Sir,” she replied softly.
Brams looked over at the portrait of Admiral Havalor, as if asking for help.
“We must speed up the Fists’ work. I’ve asked them to work individually on tasks now. They have accepted the increased risks, as I knew they would. They are nothing if not brave
, the Edo.”
Danica nodded encouragingly. “Yes, Sir, they are. I think it’s a good idea. They were always an expendable - and free - resource.”
“No,” said Brams, suddenly angry. He stood up and walked stiffly over to the Admiral. “They are not expendable. Each of their three dead weigh heavily upon me. My actions have led to their deaths. How many more will die? And if I lose my position, or my life, what will have been the point?”
She moved to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “Then don’t lose, don’t die. Make their deaths meaningful.”
Riccard didn’t reply. He walked over to a drinks cabinet and poured himself a stiff measure of deep golden-brown Buderimian rum.
“Raichel Ison will be on a mission tomorrow. I am hoping that she uncovers evidence at the spaceport here in Disthasus. There have been some indications that supplies to the terrorists operating here have been shipped through the port, right before our eyes.”
Prilission tilted her head. “I’ve not been informed?”
Riccard looked around at her. “Sorry, I know. I’ve kept this one very secret to increase the chances of those involved still being there when Raichel gets there tomorrow. Any alert to her visit would have them all scamper away into the shadows like a startled Reen.”
“I understand, Riccard,” said Danica, conspiratorially. “Let’s hope for a successful outcome.”
He looked at Danica. “Yes, let’s hope.”
“Three is good, but not enough for my needs,” said Doyen Niettha, shrouded somehow in darkness despite the light in Weststar’s drawing room being quite sufficient.
Amos frowned. His needs? Niettha still hadn’t really explained why he was so obsessed with the destruction of the Edo sect.
“I would say that we’ve been lucky to terminate three, given the poor performances of your agents.”
The Rise of The Dominion: A Dominion War novel Page 10
