Five Empires: An Epic Space Opera

by Steven J Shelley

  “What’s their plan?” Jake asked in a low voice, drawing clear battle lines between them and the tandem in the cockpit.

  “To turn you over to the Caravan for processing,” Mandie said. “Not just you, but … all Nostroma.”

  “That can’t be true,” Jake replied, unable to compute that.

  Mandie nodded somberly. “Ajon Prime is calling everyone in,” she said. “Something to do with neural wiring.”

  Jake’s blood went cold. He was thoroughly familiar with the concept. He’d been forced to undergo certain procedures in order to work in tandem with his psychotic brother. But mandatory neural wiring for all Nostroma was unheard of.

  The duellist’s mind raced with various possibilities. Then it came to him.

  “Conditioning,” he said. “Preparing our minds for the Cava05 alliance. Might even be part of a peace deal.”

  Jake grimaced. Some deal. The Nostroma agree to become minions of the Cavan Technocracy in return for their lives. It was about as practical as a deal could get, almost breathtaking in its cold, hard sobriety. No doubt Ajon Prime believed he was preserving over a thousand years of Nostromic culture. What Jake believed no longer mattered. He would submit to the new order or be killed.

  Why hadn’t Ajon Prime mentioned all this at their last meeting? And why did he let Jake go? Was the leader hoping that Jake somehow found an alternative solution?

  None of that mattered now - it was too late. Jake had allowed himself to be caught like a rat in a trap. He would be delivered straight to the heart of Nostroma space for re-conditioning. In just a few hours he would be a muted shadow of his former self, unable to see the tragedy unfolding all around him.

  “Nobody said anything about the Cava05,” Mandie said, looking through a starboard porthole. Jake craned his neck and saw a cube-shaped warship. Several Cavan fighter patrols sat on the warship’s shoulder.

  “Signed, sealed, delivered,” Jake said, hoping to prey upon Mandie’s obvious fear. Her reaction to the Cava05 was a common one. After all, the simians had a well-earned reputation for cruelty when it came to subjugate races.

  “You’ve been lied to,” Jake said. “I’m here to be re-programmed, but Nobblar will sell you to the simians for a pittance.”

  Jake could see he had created uncertainty in Mandie’s mind. Judging from the murmur of voices from the cockpit, Nobblar and Basko had almost concluded their discussion. He didn’t have much time.

  “Wanna know something crazy?” he said. “I felt something. On Vista.”

  Mandie rolled her eyes. “You think I’m gonna buy that?”

  “Did you feel anything?” Jake asked. Mandie hesitated.

  “Then why can’t I?” Jake persisted. “Think, Mandie. You can either try your luck with Nobblar and the simians or you can come with me to Tranda.”

  Mandie blinked, clearly trying to shake the crazy notion from her head. But she couldn’t - Jake’s mind worm was preventing her from abandoning him.

  It was successful because Jake knew that humans thrived on positive emotion. It made them take risks and venture outside their comfort zones. Jake had learned this over many years of manipulating subjugate species like clay. And yet he found himself hoping that not all of Mandie’s doubt was down to his neural trickery.

  “This is happening too fast,” Mandie said, but still she didn’t move. “I hardly know you.”

  “Do you know what lies out there?” Jake asked, pointing out a second Cavan warship off the starboard bow. That seemed to resonate with the mercenary. She took a deep breath and checked her weapons and armor. Jake smiled inwardly - she had decided to liberate Jake, knowing that some kind of violence would ensue.

  33

  Nobblar and Basko had made the mistake of underestimating a human woman, a mistake that might cost them their lives. Mandie deactivated Jake’s straps. The duellist was free.

  “You need to trust me,” he said, looking into her eyes. She nodded. Then he struck her flush in the cheekbone. She ricocheted from the starboard hull and he caught her on the rebound. Already a dark bruise was forming under her eye. Jake held her by the arms before panic could set in.

  “Go tell your superiors that I’ve broken free,” he said intently. “Close your eyes when I give the word.”

  The merc gave a slight nod. Jake crouched behind his stasis chair and watched as the mercenary entered the cockpit.

  “Jake attacked me,” he heard her say in a stricken voice. She was good. The fear was that Nobblar would smell a rat and kill her immediately. But his arrogance would be his undoing. How could a subjugate possibly be capable of such a ruse?

  Basko entered the lounge first. Nobblar was smart enough to keep Mandie in his eyeline as he also came forward.

  Jake frowned. If he attacked Basko, Nobblar would have the upper hand. He needed to go after the cybomancer first. And, most tricky of all, he wanted to take him out without killing him. Nobblar was just conducting Nostroma business. Ajon Prime probably wasn’t even paying him. He didn’t deserve to die by Jake’s hand - not yet, anyway.

  Jake waited until Basko was almost parallel with him. Though his utility belt had been confiscated, Jake still had one or two tricks up his sleeve. He produced a single grey ‘panic pellet’ from a customized sac sewn into the inner thigh of his leather pants. It was amazing how frequently he’d used it over the course of his dubious life.

  At the last possible moment he flung the pellet in Nobblar’s direction.

  “Now!” he screamed, rolling head over heels to the port bulkhead. A cascade of rubber bullets struck the floor where he’d been half a second before. Basko was using a weapon suitable for ship interiors. Jake didn’t fancy being peppered with those things - they were designed for concussive impact and could break bones.

  Jake’s grey pellets were expensive gear because they could rapidly fill a room with smoke. All he could see from his position by the bulkhead was Basko stumbling through a thick, cloying veil of grey. Nobblar was the one he needed. He inched along the port wall, seeing a figure fall near the cockpit entrance. Nobblar.

  Whatever Mandie had done, it wasn’t a killing move. The cybomancer tried to stand but Jake wasn’t about to allow that. He planted a heavy boot somewhere in Nobblar’s midriff. The older man’s ribs crunched and Jake resolved to pull back a little. He leaned over the cybomancer and removed the plasma pistol from his right hand.

  “Plasma?” Jake jovially said in his ear. “Surely not in your own corvette, Nobblar.”

  Jake yanked Nobblar to his feet and held him like a shield. The smoke began to dissipate and revealed Basko standing beside the stasis chairs, shotgun aimed in Jake’s direction.

  “Not really a precision weapon,” Jake murmured with a wry smile. Both knew that any shot would hit Nobblar also.

  The cybomancer swore under his breath, not bothering to struggle. Instead he looked over at Mandie, who was rising from what looked to be a blow to the head. She couldn’t take her eyes from Nobblar. The power of his gaze held her in thrall.

  “Look away!” Jake shouted, but it was too late. Petrified by what Nobblar was shoving into her mind, Mandie screamed at the top of her lungs.

  Jake clubbed Nobblar with his pistol, knocking him cold.

  “Airlock,” he spat through gritted teeth. “Now.”

  Basko was not the most intellectually gifted Nostroma wandering the galaxy, but he understood the percentages of survival. He knew that Jake would kill Nobblar at a moment’s notice.

  Basko was not only wired to obey and protect the cybomancer, he was also physiologically adapted to respond to his physical and mental state. It was how Nostromic tandems operated as symbiotic units, and a primary reason why they were among the most feared entities in the galaxy.

  Now that Nobblar was unconscious, Basko was a little pale and jittery. He nodded once, laid his shotgun on the floor and activated the airlock.

  “Get inside,” Jake growled, waiting until Basko had complied before heading over himsel
f. He shoved Nobblar roughly into the small space before sealing the airlock. He made sure the chamber was secure before tending to Mandie, who had collapsed by the opposite wall.

  “No, no, no,” she repeated over and over as Jake dragged her to a stasis chair. Her mind had been invaded and would need weeks of intermittent therapy if it had any chance of recovering. Jake had seen plenty of subjugates lose their minds completely after being exposed to vengeful cybomancy. All he could do right now was ensure she was warm and comfortable.

 

  It was a hailing frequency from the Caravan of Light. Jake darted through to the cockpit and climbed into the pilot’s chair. The view outside filled him with awe and dread in equal measure.

  The Caravan of Light was drifting lazily a couple of clicks away. It never failed to impress Jake even though he’d seen it several times before. The Caravan was the beating heart of Nostromic civilization. It housed the Emerald Senate, Knowledge Archive and Master’s Residence all in one. The first two of these were recognized as Wonders of the Galaxy.

  The Caravan itself was famously difficult to describe to those who hadn’t witnessed it’s startling beauty in person.

  Known affectionately as the Mother, it was a massive dodecahedron that changed color and texture like a passing fancy. One minute it might appear to be covered in billions of rustling leaves, the next it conveyed intricate spirals of the most delicate material.

  The refracted light that made these illusions possible was generated from six smaller dodecahedron that traveled above, below and to the side of the Mother. All kinds of visual magic spun and weaved its way between the Mother and its six satellites. Suspended in a lattice of energy spanning the entire constellation was a holograph depicting a gnarled old tree. As Jake watched the branches snaked outward and shrunk until the tree had transformed into a twisting, labyrinthine pattern.

  The Caravan of Light was not only utterly gorgeous, it represented a savvy defensive philosophy - no enemy could predict its movement. It could enter drift space long before an attack force could get near enough to strike. And Nostromic military intel was second to none.

  Thanks to their tandems, the Nostroma had eyes and ears all over the galaxy. It was they who had developed the drift tracking technology that allowed the Cava05 to know exactly where the Aegisi fleet would emerge over Cerulean.

  In effect, the Nostroma had a mobile seat of government as well as the ability to see an enemy long before they arrived. The perfect defense. Incredibly, it didn’t rely on a standing army or naval fleet. Ajon Prime had been the driving force behind the dexterous arrangement and Jake couldn’t fault his vision and genius.

  Which was why an alliance with the Cava05 seemed so premature and unnecessary. Jake felt sick as he counted several Cavan warships circling the Caravan like sharks. There were thousands of smaller craft approaching the docking station on the underside of the Mother dodecahedron.

  Mandie was correct - Ajon Prime had called in all Nostromic operatives. Such a move was unprecedented, and would weaken Nostromic intelligence networks for many weeks. Whatever Ajon Prime had planned, it would likely revolutionize the neural wiring that all Nostroma shared.

  No way was he was going to report in. He needed to use the incoming ships as cover and chart a course to the Tranda system.

 

  Jake keyed the dashboard com. “Apologies Security,” he said. “We were so busy admiring the view we overshot our run. Permission to dock on the starboard approach.”

  A pause. The Security Officer would be consulting with a Team Leader.

  came the crisp reply.

  Jake’s blood ran cold. Ajon Prime was probably waiting for him. Why couldn’t the man just leave him alone?

  “Copy that, Security,” he said, hoping to at least buy a little time. “Commencing approach run.”

  Jake gripped the steerage bar and dipped the craft slightly. It wasn’t enough to convince but it was a start. He looked intently at the milling throng of ships. Most of the smaller Nostroma craft were approaching the Caravan from lateral routes. The Stallion was on a 45 degree angle to the Mother and on course to cut in between the main dodecahedron and the foremost satellite. If he could cross that space without being challenged, there was a chance he could escape using one of the patrolling Cava05 warships as cover.

  The seconds passed interminably as the corvette crawled through the base of an enormous holographic waterfall.

 

  Jake accelerated gently as the corvette passed beyond the holograph. He hoped that the Caravan would hesitate to fire with such a large Cava05 presence on its perimeter. And so it proved. Jake guided the corvette away from the Caravan and headed straight for the narrow gap between two Cavan warships.

  The hulking, cube-shaped vessels loomed to either side. He was close enough to see the neatly-ordered observation decks and command centers. Small, furry simians in lilac uniforms hurried back and forth industriously. Jake felt slightly sick watching the aliens go about their business, the Nostroma were about to bend the knee to them as subjugates. He almost wished he was Aegisi - at least they were showing some fight, however futile.

  Jake’s nav pane pinged - a squadron of eagle-class fighters was on his tail. The Caravan may not be able to fire on him during such a delicate diplomatic event, but they could try and reel him in. Four of them now surged urgently in his direction.

  Time to dance. Jake pushed the steerage bar forward, coaxing the corvette to full throttle. Alarmed at his aggressive speed, warning signals were transmitted from both Cavan warships. Jake held his breath until he was clear of the huge cubes and had an open tract of space before him. If only his propulsion bulb was ready …

  The pursuing eagles were already between the alien warships. They’d probably alerted the simians to an internal security issue. The leading eagles opened fire with long range torpedoes. Jake diverted a significant chunk of power to rear shields.

  The corvette had a handy ‘slider’ energy plan that allowed him to divert power from system to system. Problem was, if he allocated power to the shields, it was taken away from the propulsion core.

  Making a snap decision that could see him killed, Jake diverted power back to propulsion and took a deep breath. There was no point trying to resist the incoming fire. His only chance was to pile all available energy into the prop bulb and pray that he wasn’t hit. The only way to do that was to engage in a close quarters dog fight with the eagles, negating their ability to use torpedoes. Surviving an encounter with four crack Nostroma pilots wouldn’t be easy. In fact, Jake expected to be shredded in quick fashion. Unless …

  The duellist pressed hard on the steerage bar, dipping the craft into a port-slanted dive. He made straight for the shimmering hull of the nearest Cavan warship. The chasing eagles would surely need to fight politely there. His sudden change of course took him away from the torpedoes’ path, and he was gratified to see them disappear from his nav pane. Rather than let them swing towards the Cavan warships, they’d been aborted by the eagle pilots. Already Jake’s risky plan was paying dividends.

  Jake veered close to the Cavan warship’s hull, waving at the startled simians watching from an observation deck. He wondered if the aliens would open fire. He didn’t want to stir the hornet’s nest - he had little chance of escaping a fully engaged warship. The next two minutes were critical. The Cava05 would probably allow the eagles to deal with their “domestic” matter, but only to a point.

  Jake checked his power diagnostic - the corvette’s propulsion bulb was minutes away from drift capability. His jaw tightened as he gripped the steerage bar. This was gonna be a close run thing.

  The eagles closed in, targeting the corvette for a precision
kill. Front mounted lasers stenciled their way across Jake’s meager shields, breaking down the thin lattice with alarming ease.

  came a determined voice over the com.

  Jake smiled grimly. His pursuers knew Nobblar and Basko were on board, and would be loathe to waste three experienced operatives in one hit. Mandie would be of no consequence to them at all.

  The dashboard screamed at Jake to do something about the rear shields. Steadfastly refusing to divert power there, he wheeled sharply away from the warship’s hull and swerved into a dramatic climb. He strapped himself into the pilot’s chair, glad to have done the same for Mandie. What happened to his “friends” in the airlock couldn’t be helped.

  The eagles followed Jake into the climb but couldn’t get a lock on his irregular spiral. Grinning now, Jake activated the spent fuel dump and was thrilled to find that the canister had been full. A cascade of fuel chaff engulfed the leading eagles. The first fighter to emerge from the cloud looked to be unscathed, but the second sported a film of residue across its cockpit.

  Jake set the thrusters to maintain the current bearing and wheeled around sharply to face his attackers. It was a foolhardy move as he was now effectively flying backwards. He pulled the orange triggers to either side of the steerage bar and sent a torrent of flak into the blind fighter. The eagle’s shields were robust but couldn’t withstand the corvette’s sustained onslaught.

  Jake had to admire the pilot’s discipline in refusing to veer blindly - that might have taken out a comrade or two. Jake laughed as his flak ruptured the eagle’s hull and sent splinters of metal soaring in all directions.

  The fighter’s prop bulb was exposed to the vacuum and ignited in vibrant magenta flare. The lone pilot was already drifting lifelessly into the fathomless, silent abyss. The other eagles opened fire with their lasers, but Jake was already on the move. He flipped the agile craft back to a more conventional orientation and dipped into a low dive.