Five Empires: An Epic Space Opera

by Steven J Shelley

  The bar room was blessedly empty and silent. Michael made himself a cup of steaming hot coffee, sat by a window, and watched the relentless crash of surf on Samalar’s western reef.

  Emilia was, of course, a crushing weight on his soul. He couldn’t get the image of her broken body out of his mind. He figured he must either go crazy or eventually forget what it looked like. The former option wasn’t particularly appealing, but the latter prospect saddened him in a way.

  To take his mind off such matters, Michael forced himself to address the current situation. If the Cava05 had imposed a travel ban on the scattered human settlers of Cerulean, what would be their next move?

  Jake had helped to crystallize Michael’s primary objective - the demise of those responsible for his sister’s murder. That felt right. That felt just. It was also far, far easier said than done.

  The crucial next phase would be the expected arrival of the Aegisi Navy. Two of Michael’s targets belonged to that strike force - Captain Tilder and Major Shaw. Michael wondered if it would be possible to get himself aboard the Dilettante. If the targets were still on the planet’s surface, even better. If they could be drawn to him, perfect. The forager’s major advantage was that the Aegisi soldiers didn’t know about the darkness he now harbored within him. For all they knew he was still a loyal civilian.

  While he waited for Jake to appear, Michael set about a little physical work. He dragged the corpses from the bar room and buried them in the sandy foreshore outside. Only then was he able to eat the leftover roast meat hanging from the still-smoking spit.

  The sun was bright and warm by the time Jake appeared, seedy and beady-eyed.

  Michael told the Nostroma about his vague plan to send out a distress signal to the Dilettante. Hopefully Tilder and Shaw would be dispatched as part of a patrol to secure him.

  Jake rubbed his jaw thoughtfully as he listened. “Sounds reasonable, kid,” he grunted. “But we’d still have to take down a fully armed Aegisi patrol. You prepared to get some innocent blood on your hands?”

  “Yes,” Michael said firmly. And, to his intense surprise, truthfully. He only had to think of Emilia to confirm his new moral outlook. “Are you?”

  Jake smiled ruefully. “I don’t think you’d understand my particular brand of ethics, kid,” he said.

  Michael believed him.

  “I accept that,” the forager said. “But before we do this I need to know the politics of this. Tell me why you’re on Cerulean.”

  Jake laughed bitterly and poured himself a cup of coffee.

  “Well,” he said, “It’s like this. You know about my tandem with Fashon. We were sent here by my people to play our part in a three-way deal. The Aegisi were to send your sister as part of the negotiation. It was set up to look like Yashom15 had made a special request. We arranged for the Cava05 to pass her on to us. Fashon would then extract what he needed from her mind.”

  Michael breathed in deeply, steeling himself for what came next.

  “And what was that exactly?”

  “The layout of your capitol city on Solitude.”

  Michael looked at Jake in wide-eyed shock. “Senafal? But why Emilia?”

  Jake sighed. “We spent time on Solitude to pick our target. We weren’t interested in anyone from the military - they spend almost all their time in space. What we needed was a civilian who knew the landscape intimately - a forager. Things got out of control when Jake became obsessed with her. He tends to do that with vulnerable women.”

  Michael blinked. He wanted to dwell on Emilia but couldn’t. “The Nostroma are planning to invade Solitude?”

  Jake shook his head. “Not us. The Cava05.”

  A spear of dread lanced its way down Michael’s spine.

  “But why would they give us Cerulean…?”

  Jake shook his his condescendingly. “Stop assuming, kid. My guess is the Cava05 are looking to destroy the Aegisi as the first phase in the coming war. Which is why Fashon is probably reportin’ to them right now.”

  “Solitude is vulnerable,” Michael said. “We need to warn them.”

  “Wouldn’t do no good,” Jake returned. “The Cava05 now know the ins and outs of the land. Plus, by my reckoning your Navy should be enterin’ Cerulean high orbit any day now.”

  Michael’s head spun with all the various permutations.

  “You’re saying the Cava05 will invade Solitude while the Aegisi are busy securing Cerulean?”

  Jake shrugged. “Beyond my seein’, kid.”

  “What do the Nostroma have to gain from helping the Cava05?” Michael asked.

  Jake looked uncharacteristically sheepish. “Ajon Prime holds his cards real close to his chest, but I think he’s eyein’ a lasting alliance with the little simians.”

  “Fucking cowards,” Michael fumed.

  Jake shrugged again. “The Nostroma don’t deploy in the same way as other species,” he said. “We have no conventional army. What the Cava05 can’t see, they can’t hit. An alliance with my people makes a lot of sense. For now.”

  Michael simply grunted, at least prepared to accept that the Nostroma were a devious, slippery bunch of degenerates.

  “So we set on a plan, boy?” Jake asked, pulling on his trench coat and fastening his utility belt. Michael noticed a number of colored cannisters lining the scratched, faded leather. He made a mental note to ask about them later.

  The forager had a loose plan but he wasn’t sure how to implement it.

  “We make the distress call,” he said slowly. “At a suitable ambush site.”

  “We’re gonna need men,” Jake said. “And we need somethin’ to pay ‘em with.”

  Michael looked around the bar. “Would Ranne Du have a safe?”

  “Course he would,” Jake said. “Booby-trapped like fuck. Next?”

  “Emilia and I have a shared bank account on Solitude,” Michael said. “I could convert the funds to something more usable.”

  Jake growled. “Gimme your details and we’ll make it look like I stole everythin’ you had.”

  The transaction was over within two minutes. Using Michael’s wrist pad, Jake set up a temporary fund linked to a local credit union used by many of the islanders.

  “We’re done,” Jake said. “But your people now know where you are. The ambush site needs to be close.”

  “Why not here on the island?” Michael asked.

  “As good a place as any,” Jake agreed. “I think I know just the place. Blowhole.”

  Michael didn’t know what that was but was prepared to trust Jake’s judgment. As far as he reasonably could, anyway.

  Jake unfastened Michael’s wrist pad and padded to the front door. “Time to work, kid.”

  The forager felt oddly naked without his wrist pad, but agreed that it was time to set things in motion. He followed Jake out into the sunshine. A pair of wild dogs were already sniffing around the fresh graves Michael had dug earlier.

  “Noses for the dead,” Jake commented. “Just like my kin.”

  The pair made their way north along the beach to a coastal village. The walk was only fifteen minutes but Michael was soon drenched in sweat. Cerulean was a real greenhouse oven. The azure ocean glittered like a million jewels all the way to the horizon.

  Michael watched as Jake set to work. Holding the forager’s wrist pad aloft, the duellist wandered through the ramshackle huts calling “Support guns, immediate payment,” every few seconds.

  Within ten minutes four unsavory-looking men had been rounded up. Jake made sure they all received an immediate down payment. Michael had no idea what compromised ‘generous’ in this situation and was glad to have the Nostroma’s field experience on his side.

  “We’re headed to the Blowhole,” Jake announced. “More instructions to follow there.”

  The hastily compiled ambush party made their way south through low coastal scrub. Jake had managed to scrounge some field rations from Ranne Du’s stores, so Michael was at least armed with a little tra
il mix for the five hour march.

  The Blowhole was inaccessible by vehicle, but since all the speeders and quads in the coastal village had been code-killed by the Cava05, the issue was moot. Michael found it interesting that the simians had gone to so much effort to restrict local travel on Cerulean. It certainly hinted at some kind of military action against the new Aegisi owners.

  What worried Michael was that he still didn’t have a gun. The riff-raff Jake had scraped from the village dirt barely had guns of their own. Only one of them looked remotely like a solid shot, the rest offering poorly maintained flak pistols from a bygone era. On the other hand, Jake had assured him that the human mercenaries were purely there for ballast and distraction. The Nostroma was presumably the one who would provide the big show when required.

  Michael was hot and tired by the time the party reached a grassy foreshore shaded by giant wine palms. The nature of his foraging work back on Solitude had made him extremely fit, but the air back home was bone dry compared to the thick soup of Cerulean. If the Aegisi were ever to make some kind of home here they would need to adjust to the climate.

  Scanning the surrounding terrain, Jake announced that it was time to head inland. The lanky Nostroma seemed to possess elite orientation and tracking skills in addition to his obvious martial abilities.

  Michael munched on his trail mix - a mixture of goji berries, ja nuts, king dates and sandflower seeds.

  Once the party had cooled down and refueled, Jake set a cracking pace to the east. A series of ominous booms resounded from high orbit, suggesting that a warship was riding the upper mesosphere. Michael thought he saw the faint outline of the Dilettante before it faded away.

  The orbital noises had the effect of quickening Jake’s pace. He picked his way through the papery melaleuca like a man possessed. The sun was low in the western sky when Jake stopped at the lip of a massive hole.

  The Blowhole was roughly forty yards in diameter. It was a limestone sinkhole that filled with seawater at high tide. The northern beach was at least a mile away and the water entered through a series of underground caves. Right now the bottom was awash with ocean foam.

  Michael’s face was slapped by a salt-laden zephyr rising from the depths.

  “What now?” he asked Jake.

  “Get down there and make your signal,” Jake said gruffly, tossing him the borrowed wrist pad. Michael was glad to wear it again, even though it was about to bring a ton of trouble down on their heads. He peered over the lip of the blowhole - it was treacherous but he was an agile and experienced climber. One couldn’t forage on Solitude without solid mountaineering skills.

  “Ping the signal from the bottom,” Jake said. “We’ll do the rest.”

  Michael nodded and scanned the edge of the blowhole for a suitable launch point. He picked his way down the porous rock face, finding secure hand and footholds in the limestone. The safest route saw him move laterally as well as vertically, and it took a good ten minutes to find his way to an intertidal rock platform at the bottom.

  Salt water occasionally lapped at his ankles but there didn’t seem to be much chance of a freak wave. He gazed up at the top of the hole but his companions were nowhere to be seen. Jake was probably reclining under a tree blowing smoke rings. Taking a deep breath, the forager pinged a distress signal from his wrist pad. It was configured to transmit his civilian ID, same as it would for any Aegisi citizen.

  From that moment it was simply a waiting game. A tense minute passed before the wrist pad lit up.

 

  “Loud and clear, Dilettante,” Michael said into the com.

 

  “That’s an affirmative, Dilettante. Wouldn’t mind some assistance.”

  There was a pause on the other end. Michael wondered if he’d overcooked his performance.

  came the reply.

  “Will do, Dilettante,” Michael said with a dark smile. “And thank you.”

  Michael lodged his wrist pad down a crack in the rocks and began his ascent back to the top. As an experienced climber it was always much easier to climb than it was to descend. He was back with the others within minutes.

  “As long as the wrist pad stays down there,” Jake said. “Moving it around would only arouse suspicion.”

  One of the mercs was first to spot the Aegis vessel. Just a speck in the darkening sky, it filled Michael with intense anxiety. He knew the path he wanted to take, but that didn’t make it any easier. He sensed the next half hour would set his life’s course, so he wanted to be ready. He allowed the image of Emilia’s corpse to flood his mind. It not only made him angry, it just about destroyed the moral scaffolding that governed his previous life.

  Jake produced a pair of nocs and scanned the incoming ship.

  “It’s the sentinel,” he murmured.

  Michael felt his hopes soar. Did that mean Tilder and Shaw were en route? He could barely contain himself as the sentinel crept closer.

  “Take your positions,” Jake snarled at the mercs. The humans disappeared into the heathy undergrowth.

  “They’re fucking stupid so I’m keeping it simple,” Jake said with distaste. “Let’s hope they keep their heads.”

  “I’ll follow your lead,” Michael said, unsure where to position himself. Jake glanced at him.

  “You’ll get your chance,” he promised. “I get the feelin’ you’ve already made your decision too. The mind is a powerful organ, kid. A powerful organ.”

  Michael didn’t know what the hell that meant, but got the impression the Nostroma knew what was coming.

  The pair ensured they were under the trees as the sentinel lowered itself into a nearby clearing. Michael felt the hot blast of bulb exhaust as the powerful vessel eased itself to the dirt. Michael inched forward through the swaying coastal foliage, mindful that whoever emerged from the lower gangway would be battle ready.

  The sentinel remained flight ready as a squad of six armored corsairs emerged from the vessel, their blue armor indistinct in the weak dusk light.

  “Stay down,” Jake said casually, hands on his pistol butts. “This is gonna be fun.”

  The Aegisi recovery squad fanned out through the trees. Michael turned around and Jake was nowhere to be seen. Panicking, he dropped to his knees and crept behind a thick saltbush.

  Two corsairs peered in his direction, perhaps spotting his sudden movement. He felt like a rank amateur, squatting in the undergrowth without a weapon. These guys were corsairs, elite Aegisi soldiers. What the hell had he been thinking?

  One of the corsairs was making a beeline straight for the forager’s position. Just as he began to plot some kind of feeble defensive move, a plasma blast rang out from a flanking position. The shot struck the corsair in the lower midriff, but the soldier’s armor absorbed some of the blow. The impact seemed to wind the target, who doubled over in pain.

  Instinct taking over, Michael lifted a thick stick and hared over to the corsair. He struck the man under the jaw and sent him reeling backwards. A second blow to the temple and he was out cold. More plasma fire lit up the coastal scrub to Michael’s right. He heard a meaty thud and a man’s scream. Taking the fallen corsair’s blaster rifle, Michel crept low through the undergrowth. A gunfight had opened up further to the north, beyond the crest of a sweeping sand dune that rose above the gnarled tee trees.

  Michael had only just broken cover when there was a muffled noise behind him.

  “Danner?”

  His hopes sinking, the forager turned to see a corsair striding toward him, blaster leveled. The sentinel’s propulsion bulb died, which struck Michael as odd.

  The approaching corsair also paused to peer through the trees, clearly wondering what had happened to the sentinel.

  “Major Shaw?” Michael stammered, an idea forming in his mind.

  “It’s me,” Shaw sa
id, keeping her gun trained on his head.

  “They’re hunting me,” he said, panting as if he’d been running for hours. “A fucking Nostroma and four local mercs.”

  The story would fit. Major Shaw paused once more before leaning in to grab Michael’s arm.

  “You’re coming with me,” she said firmly.

  15

  Michael walked ahead of Major Shaw as they headed north through the trees. The darkness was closing in now, and the blaster fire over the sand dunes left after-trails that Michael couldn’t shake from his vision.

  Cursing himself for letting Shaw apprehend him, the forager scanned the surrounding terrain for an opportunity to gain the upper hand.

  “Thanks for leaving me at the desal plant,” Michael said bitterly, partly to distract Shaw from the shoot-out. “Mission accomplished, eh?”

  “Keep moving,” Shaw barked, too professional to take the bait.

  The pair ascended a tall dune. The fizz of blaster fire was much closer now.

  “Get down but keep walking,” Shaw commanded. Michael cleared the dune ridge and dutifully headed down the far side.

  “Stop,” Shaw said.

  Michael stood at the base of the dune. Before him was a flat beach pockmarked with pools of glassy water. Two of Jake’s mercs lay on the sand, probably dead. The crashing surf was a heaving mass of black in the background. Whatever had taken place here was now over.

  Michael risked a glance over his shoulder. Shaw was wisely lying against the lip of the dune, facing back into the jungle. The aquamarine lights of a corsair’s nightvision goggles appeared at close quarters. The Aegisi soldier punched Michael in the chest and caused him to double over. The forager couldn’t breathe for several seconds and feared his windpipe had been damaged. After a minute he was able to collect himself and identify his attacker.

  It was Captain Tilder. The condescending prick had climbed the dune to talk to Major Shaw. Michael inched closer so he could listen.

  “A Nostroma?” Tilder was saying. “Where was the last visual?”

  The Captain didn’t wait for an answer. Instead he marched back down to Michael and grabbed him by the collar.