The Rise of The Dominion: A Dominion War novel

by D. M. Marshall

  “Hey!” exclaimed the man, turning to look at Gil.

  Gil gestured slightly towards him. “You are happy to have me as a passenger.”

  The man frowned, his heavy brow moving slowly. “I am happy to have you as a passenger.”

  “Thank you,” said Gil, smiling with relief. “Please, follow that car,” he said, pointing past the driver towards the garish taxi.

  “I’ll follow that car,” repeated the driver, engaging the vehicle’s systems and moving smoothly to follow.

  “That’s my man,” said Gil, patting the big man happily on his shoulder. With any luck, Astrals willing, Forma Beltat would be going directly to her home.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  The duty officer scrambled to his feet. “Sir!” he said, snapping to attention.

  Weststar smiled. His and Adami’s visit to the prison complex had been kept secret enough that the staff had not been informed.

  “At ease, Mister…” Weststar peered at the man’s ID badge. “Mister Gazzas.” The man didn’t relax at all, not with Petrina staring at him like he was her next meal. “We are here to see prisoner HK217PZ.” He turned and smiled at Adami. “I think I got that right, didn’t I, Fleet Admiral?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she said, inclining her head slightly as the duty officer’s nervousness noticeably increased. “What is the problem, Mister Gazzas?”

  The man stammered. “He, he isn’t here, uh, Fleet Admiral.”

  Weststar impressed himself with how calm he remained. “He’s not? And why is that?” He glanced at Petrina, she looked ready to rip the man’s head clean from his shoulders.

  “He was transferred this morning. I’m not sure of the specifics but it was off-world.”

  A sinking feeling hit Weststar square in his stomach but he refused to let it show. He was the leader and soon-to-be Emperor of the Dominion. He needed to look in control at all times.

  “Indeed,” said Amos. “Please, look up the transfer details. I’d very much like to know who ordered the transfer.” He already had a pretty good idea. He exchanged a glance with Adami that looked to say she had the same thought.

  Relieved at being given a task he could do, the man quickly tapped away at his console, before standing at attention again.

  “Sir, orders came from Doyen Niettha this morning, issued just before shock troopers came to take him away. I cannot find any transfer plans, which is not standard procedure and most irregular, Sir.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at Adami, most pleased that he was able to maintain a facade of calmness much better than the obviously angry woman besides him.

  “I see. Thank you Mister Gazzas, you have been most forthcoming. Please see to it that any future prisoner transfer requests are cleared by my office until I say otherwise, would you?”

  “Of course, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  As he turned to leave he whispered to Adami. “Now you see how troublesome Niettha has become. I believe it is time for our arrangement to meet its natural conclusion.”

  Adami nodded sharply. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  With some small fortune, Forma Beltat’s hover had stopped at a platform half way up a towering residential block. He had his driver, who he’d named ‘Block’ after his rather impressively square physique, bring him in behind her.

  “Wait here until I return, please, Block”, he said, a finger waggled subconsciously.

  “I’ll wait here until you return,” said Block slowly.

  “And please stop repeating everything I say,” said Gil, smiling as he got out.

  “I’ll stop repeating everything you say,” he heard Block mumble. Gil couldn’t help but laugh.

  Forma was at the door and had her datapad out, presumably using a stored access code to unlock the door. The door flashed sideways into its recess and she entered, not bothering to check behind her. The door slid back shortly after she passed through and Gil Channeled to hold it partially open, though it was a struggle, taxing him more than it should have. He slipped through, relieved to allow the door to shut.

  Forma stood waiting before a triple set of lifts, and did her best to ignore Gil. He approached and stood beside her, as though waiting for the lifts himself. The center lift doors opened and the pair walked in, turning to face the doors as they closed. Forma punched in her level and then turned to ask Gil his, finally looking up at him. She stopped, open mouthed, and stared at him, stupefied.

  “Hi Forma,” he said, and smiled. The lift began to move, rapidly accelerating.

  She looked away, shoulders sagging. “Oh, frack,” she managed.

  “Nice to see you too.”

  She held up a hand to stop him, and nodded to the side to indicate that they wait until in her apartment. He nodded in agreement and waited until the lift stopped, with the pair exchanging a few mixed glances. The corridor that greeted them was the standard bare-bones stark norm for any imperial city and quickly enough they arrived at Forma’s apartment, where she quickly led him in. Once in, she whirled around to face him.

  “What the kark are you doing here?”

  Gil frowned. “I was shot down, whilst escorting your leader, need I remind you, to safety.”

  She looked away. Then back. “I’d heard that they were searching for you, though they aren’t sure which Edo to be looking for.”

  “Well, that’s something at least.”

  “Why come to me?”

  “You are one of Brams’ most loyal supporters, I felt it. I knew that I could trust you.”

  “Can you?” she asked, feigning doubt.

  “Yes, I can. Though I can’t read your thoughts I can sense your emotions. You are a good person, Forma.”

  “Well, lucky for me,” she said, annoyed. “What do you want from me?”

  “I’m injured, I need somewhere to lay low while I recover.”

  She looked at him. “You understand the risk you put me under.” She said it more like a statement than a question.

  Gil began to apologize but his danger sense sparked. Forma started to speak but he held up his good hand to stop her and alarm spread across her dark features. He sent out his senses as best as he could and to his alarm found several groups of men quickly approaching Forma’s apartment.

  “Trouble,” he said, simply.

  Gil thought as quickly as his injured brain would allow him. He’d been sure he’d not been followed here, and no one had noticed him whilst making his journey to the Imperial Stronghold. How could he have been so wrong? Was he that concussed that he wasn’t fully aware of his surroundings? Sure his ability to use the Astrals was definitely impaired but he felt fully conscious, no drowsiness. It just didn’t seem right that the Imperials would be here within seconds. If something seems incredible then it often is, he thought. There must be some other reason.

  “Quickly, has Weststar been arresting Brams loyalists?”

  “Yes,” she exclaimed, eyes bulging in horror. “I thought I’d be ok - I’m just a lowly civil servant and have never been a vocal Brams supporter.”

  “I guess they aren’t taking any chances,” said Gil, looking around. Forma’s apartment was quite luxurious and sizable but hardly a fortress capable of holding at bay upwards of a dozen presumably well-armed men. There was only one viable option as far as Gil could see.

  He pulled out his pistol, and handed it to Forma, flicking off the safety before doing so. She looked confused. Gil turned it and moved her hand to the grip. He motioned at the barrel.

  “Point that bit towards them and fire, simple as that.” He smiled. “You’ll be fine, but we have to go, now.” He moved towards the door they had come through but sensed several of the men gathering outside it.

  He whirled around, summoning a vicious-looking Astral blade onto his off-arm. He moved across to the side of the room closest towards the lifts and began creating a human sized hole as Beltat watched, waves of fear boiling from her.

  “Hurry,” she said.

  “What do you think I’m doing,�
�� he said through gritted teeth, sparing the time to throw an exasperated face at her. Finally he finished the long, sweeping arc and Channeling to multiply his strength he gave the wall section a mighty boot. It moved inwards and then fell over, exposing the lounge area of the next apartment. Whether it had been empty before Gil had started cutting through the wall he couldn’t tell, but if someone had been there they had been wise enough to make themselves scarce.

  “Quickly!” he said, and stooped down and through the breached wall. He ran towards the apartments exit and used Astral energy to pull at the door. It groaned and creaked and then gave away, tearing from its frame and flying into the room.

  “Go through first and run for the lifts,” he urged. She looked terrified but did what he asked, running out into the corridor and turning left without even looking towards the men ordered to capture her.

  Gil was right behind her, and as he entered the corridor the men, five darkly colored shock troopers with another five approaching, turned and fired. Gil’s blue Astral blade flashed as he used Astral energy to guide it, blocking the bolt. Slowly, he backed up, concentrating as hard as he could to block the bolts in his weakened state.

  He risked a glance back towards the lifts and was rewarded with a glancing blast that cut across his right thigh.

  “Skavespawn,” he cursed, and redirected the next bolt back at one of the shock troopers, aiming for his weapon. He was off target and it caught the man in his right shoulder, knocking him to the floor.

  “How long, Forma?” he called.

  “It’s nearly here,” she shouted back.

  “Thank the Astrals,” he said, more to himself than anything. He tried to gesture with his broken arm, causing a stabbing pain to momentarily cause him to falter. Luckily a blast aimed right for him was caught by his stationary Astral blade. His eyes opened wide in shock. He moved back quicker, focusing more as he made it back to Forma and had to try to protect them both from the now ten strong force.

  The lift opened with a whoosh and Forma sprang in.

  “Back to the landing pad level, Block’s waiting for us,” shouted Gil above the din of gunfire.

  “Who’s Block?”

  “You’ll see,” he said, smiling despite the situation. The lift doors started to shut and he called on the Astrals and moved in with startling speed, giving their opponents no time to chase.

  Soft music played as they panted, staring hard at each other. The lift gathered speed. Forma noticed his injury and motioned towards it.

  “It is bad?”

  “Not as bad as my arm,” he said, winking at her.

  The lift eventually stopped and Gil exited first, into an empty corridor.

  “Quickly, they won’t be far behind,” he said as he ran down towards the landing pad door. They made it to the awaiting hover and they both hopped in as Block turned towards them.

  “Block, meet Forma. Forma, Block.”

  The man looked confused, his brow coming together like colliding mountain ranges. “Who’s Block?”

  “You’re Block,” said Gil.

  “Oh yes,” said the man, happily. “I’m Block.”

  Forma boggled, and look querulously at Gil, who smiled back happily. “It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later.” He turned to look at the lump of a man. “Please, Block, let’s get out of here. You are the world’s greatest repulsor car racer, show us what you’ve got.”

  Block smiled. “I am the world’s greatest repulsor car racer. I will show you what I’ve got.” He gripped the control and they moved off like a startled Long-legged Tuthelswane, swooping down towards the ground to gain speed as quickly as possible. They skimmed low over the head of pedestrians who dived for cover. Block whooped with joy.

  “He’s going to kill us!” cried Forma.

  Gil laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m helping him,”

  “Oh, I feel better already,” she said, sarcastically. She looked around and grasped at Gil’s arm, who yelped.

  “Oh, frack, I’m sorry, but we’re being followed.”

  “I know, Forma,” said Gil through gritted teeth, obviously in pain. “I sensed them almost as soon as we left. You’d better strap in.”

  She did, but helped Gil with his first. Gil Channeled to surreptitiously buckle Block in whilst the man grinned like only someone can when they’re discovering that they could do something they never thought possible.

  Brick let out a joyous cry as the repulsor car slalomed around a pair of narrow buildings.

  “I think I would have preferred to have let them take me,” moaned Forma, holding on for dear life.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Fleet Admiral Adami leant over to whisper into Weststar’s ear. “Are you sure he is up to the job?”

  He waved a hand dismissively. “Definitely. I, ah, may have used his services previously.”

  Adami and Weststar were sat in one of Weststar’s private rooms, within the High Doyen’s residence of the Imperial Stronghold. His entire staff, except for security at the very perimeter, had been excused. Opposite them sat a small, dark man, who seemed to be constantly sizing them up. His slight stature unsettled Adami. How could such a small person be such a fearsome assassin? Then again, he was probably not much bigger than a Stinaceph, and there was no doubting their fighting prowess.

  “You understand,” said Weststar, “that discretion is paramount?”

  “As always,” said the man, glowering at Weststar.

  “This must not come back to me - if you are caught you must not allow that to be revealed. Am I making myself clear?”

  Obviously he meant that the man should kill himself should he be captured whilst making the attempt. It was a pointless request in Adami’s opinion since what could be readily agreed to now might just as easily be ignored once actually caught.

  “I am a professional,” was all the man said. It seemed to convey an answer to not just Weststar’s question but any that might follow.

  “Quite,” said the would-be-Emperor, looking uncomfortable under the assassin’s dark glare. “Well, half of the agreed sum has already been transferred to you as per your request. The other half delivered on proof of Doyen Niettha’s death.”

  The assassin stood, barely getting any taller as he did so. He nodded and then stealthily made his way to the door and slipped out, the door flashing shut behind him.

  Weststar turned towards Adami, “Well,” he began but stopped when a brief and strange noise came to them from outside the door.

  Adami stood up in hurry, trying to draw her pistol but for some reason it was stuck fast. The door to their room flashed up into the ceiling and in walked Doyen Niettha, with something ball-shaped in his grasp. He smiled at them as he threw the object to their feet. Weststar sat still in his chair, too stunned to do anything but look at the severed head of the assassin, which looked equally shocked.

  Niettha helped himself to the chair the assassin had been sat in not twenty seconds earlier. “I thought I’d save you from waiting and wondering how his assignment was going. It went pretty badly, I think you might say.” He grinned at them amiably.

  He looked at Adami. “Sit.” She tried to resist but found herself sitting regardless. She frowned at him.

  “I’m disappointed,” he said, waggling his finger at them both. “Disappointed, but not surprised. Please don’t try something like that again, I’d be most displeased.”

  She felt more than saw Weststar sag with relief. Apparently he’d been thinking Niettha was about to kill him. Niettha laughed.

  “No, my dear Emperor. I do not wish you dead, or to take your place. You may rule your Dominion but I hope you now understand who holds your leash. Let me demonstrate my power.”

  As Weststar and Adami watched, Niettha’s eyes began to glow red. So fascinated were they that they didn’t notice Adami’s pistol lift up from her thigh holster and levitate around in front of them. Only when it moved into view did they see it. Appalled, they watched as it slowly lifted up, turned
and then pressed the muzzle of the gun against Weststar’s forehead.

  “You’re an Edo,” whispered Adami.

  Niettha’s strange eyes flashed. “No!” Her pistol swung to face Adami. “Not an Edo. I am Skave.”

  Adami felt sick. The Skave. In her mind the Skave were almost as big a problem as the Edo. Gaining power within a rejuvenated Dominion would give her the means to defeat the Edo, who had foiled her plans time and time again when she was an Admiral in the Dominion Navy, but being controlled by either of the two Astral-using sects was not her idea of a good thing.

  “You took the prisoner,” said Weststar flatly.

  Niettha nodded affably enough. “Correct.”

  “But why, if you were going to reveal your true nature to us any way?” asked Adami.

  “I wasn’t concerned about you, Fleet Admiral. For now, all you need to know is that I hold your lives in the palm of my hand. My reach is longer than you can imagine. You will do my bidding without hesitation or I will crush you.”

  Niettha stood up. “Prostrate yourselves before your leader.”

  Adami and Weststar looked at each other, exchanging a look that said it all. They would do what he wanted but would kill him at their earliest opportunity. Ever the coward, Weststar moved down from his seat to the floor. First to his knees, then all four and finally lay down, arms and legs splayed out.

  “My Lord,” said Weststar through tight lips.

  Niettha smiled and then looked at Adami. They locked eyes. “I will kill you,” said Adami and she dropped down to the floor.

  Niettha laughed. “Your action today was your first and last warning. If you try again, you will die. Your choice, but you are much more use to me alive. I believe our goals to be very closely linked, my dear Admiral. You may come to find working for me rather pleasing.”

  Adami knew immediately that he meant the Edo. Yes, perhaps she could work for him until the Edo were defeated. But once that was accomplished she would then set her mind to the utter defeat of the Skave. Not just because they were dangerous Astrals-users but because of the embarrassment she now suffered as she lay face down beside the leader of the Dominion.