Five Empires: An Epic Space Opera

by Steven J Shelley

  The pair moved fluidly through the dawn murk and made good time. Jake noted Mandie’s physical improvement, but still saw a certain cloud in her eyes that suggested Nobblar’s neural worms were still at large. Given time, they would fade. Hopefully another day of physical exertion would help.

  The sun had well and truly risen by the time the long, chest-high ridges began to thin out. The soil seemed darker here and there were more shrubs dotting the landscape.

  As sweat began to trickle down Jake’s temples, he marked the gradual change in terrain. They were now trudging up a mild incline and could see the edge of a lowland forest on the horizon. Another two hours would see them into the welcome cover of vegetation.

  A minor passage of time on the face of it, but Jake spent every second step looking over his shoulder. He just couldn’t escape the feeling that his trackers were right behind them, content to push close and follow comfortably. For all they knew Jake had discovered the exact location of the monastery.

  It occurred to him that they might want to take Fusar down also, assuming they had the relevant intel. In fact, if they believed like he did that she was the Third Catalyst, they’d make sure she didn’t survive the next few days. But Jake didn’t think their intel was that detailed.

  Weighed down with rumination, Jake was glad when the pair finally slipped into the cool shadows of the lowland forest.

  The dominant species here was coriolis pine. It tended to spiral from the apex of its canopy. Its fronds were spindly and didn’t offer much protection on their own, but the combined effect of the spiral was enough to create shadow. Jake and Mandie moved quickly over a bed of pine needles, grateful for the opportunity to move without leaving an imprint. The terrain would test the tracking skills of those behind them and perhaps even buy the fugitives a half day or so.

  Despite the welcome shade, the slope of the forest proved fairly arduous after the first hour. The pair were picking their way between large granite boulders by noon. Jake called a halt with the sun at its zenith and sat breathlessly against a tree. He tossed Mandie a protein bar and the pair ate in contented silence.

  After a few minutes Jake shouldered his pack and Mandie bounced to her feet. The mercenary marked a granite outcropping to the east. It was reasonably flat and offered a superb view of the plain to the south.

  “Too risky,” Jake said, reading her mind. “Besides, I think we’re heading in the right general direction.”

  The duellist didn’t feel as confident as he sounded. The lowland forest offered multiple paths but soon they’d be forced to choose between the few narrow, twisting valleys that rose through the next altitude band. If Jake’s suspicions were correct, they would need to climb fairly high before being able to access the valley that contained the monastery.

  The pair continued in silence, the exertion of the climb building with every step. Jake kept his eyes trained on the trees before him, looking out for signs of valley formation.

  It wasn’t until the pair had climbed for another two hours and used most of their water that they came across the beginnings of a valley. Walls of rock rose some fifty yards to either side. Panting heavily, Jake called a halt and allowed Mandie to sit for a while. He clambered up the deceptively smooth trunk of a coriolis pine, lamenting the stiffness of his aging joints. Only five years ago he would’ve been up several boughs in no time.

  Settling on a solid, lateral branch, Jake drew his optics and scanned the upslope terrain. The valley entrance was wide and inviting. A verdant meadow bristling with wildflowers could be seen further up the montane passage.

  Jake pondered the valley for several moments, weighing various logical factors at once. For starters, the valley would’ve allowed for the relatively simple transport of goods and materials with which to build a monastery. Secondly, the color of that grassy meadow suggested a viable freshwater source.

  Finally, from what Jake could see, the valley was reasonably straight and disappeared between two snow-capped peaks. The perfect mountain pass. He shimmied back down and shook his head in response to Mandie’s unspoken question.

  “I don’t think so,” he grunted. “Monks wouldn’t have made it easy for others to follow.”

  Mandie nodded, ready to continue. Once Jake stepped away to relieve himself they were again on their way. He struck out in an easterly direction across the slope. It was probably the most critical decision of their trek thus far. If they were heading the wrong way they would never reach the monastery. They simply didn’t have the time to circumvent the mid to lower slopes of the Avene Range.

  What swayed Jake in the end was the gentle breeze coming in from the west - if that was the prevailing wind on this face of the range, it made sense that the monastery be located on the lee side. On that rather flimsy logic the pair headed east through coriolis pine punctured by shafts of late afternoon sunlight.

  At the very least, their trackers would have the same decisions to make in the next few hours. If they chose the windward face they stood to lose two or three days off their pursuit.

  More than enough time to liberate Fusar and get the fuck off the range. Notwithstanding the unpredictable monks and the absence of an escape vessel. Jack shoved those considerations from his mind. Too much water to flow under the bridge yet.

  Trekking across a slope was always harder than it first appeared. Jake pushed hard, keen to find a viable ascent before darkness fell.

  Perhaps his mind was consumed with that goal, because he almost failed to notice the dirty gray smoke trailing lazily through the trees. He signaled for Mandie to drop and freeze - she did it without question in a smooth motion. He resolved to ask her if she’d seen combat.

  Stepping lightly behind a pine, Jake edged his gaze round the trunk. Only thirty yards to the east was a trapper’s camp. Five, no six, very lightly armored bipeds going about their business. Jake had to squint in the fading light to get a read on the species.

  Pale, creamy skin, long fingers. Midnight blue eyes. Irians. These were a subjugate species from the Irian system and probably sat underneath humans, but above lizards, in the grand pecking order. Jake had met several in his time and knew the Irian homeworld was resource poor, forcing the species far and wide in search of meaningful employment and security. None of the ‘big four’ species paid the Irians much heed. It was presumed that one day their system would be seized by the Cava05, who had an active policy of slavery.

  Jake watched the movements within the camp for some time. There were two rude tents on the close side. Beyond these a shallow pit had been dug and covered with furs. The trappers were smoking their skins to remove bugs and toxins.

  Jake was surprised to see so much evidence of wildlife and guessed the animals were nocturnal. Which meant these Irians were probably just getting started for the night. The species did not have a reputation for hostility or violence, but encountering a well-armed Nostroma in the Trandan wilderness was not likely to set their minds at ease.

  Jake could see blinking plasma pistols at their hips and swore quietly. Those weapons looked decent and were probably stolen. Worse still, the entrance to another valley lay beyond the camp.

  This one looked like it had once been a river - now it was a chaotic mess of boulders and scree. Jake scurried over to Mandie.

  “Trappers,” he said with disdain. “They’re gearing up for their night’s work.”

  “And the valley?” Mandie asked.

  Jake couldn’t suppress a smile. The girl didn’t miss much.

  “Looks like a bitch,” he said. “I really like it. The monks might have liked it too.”

  Mandie nodded, preparing for battle. Jake did the same - there was no way around these trappers. Perhaps some would leave soon. The pair sank to the bed of coriolis needles and commando-crawled their way to a concealed position on the western perimeter of the camp.

  Four of the trappers were dressed in bulky coats and had harpoons at the ready. Each of these hunters wore optics, probably configured for night visi
on.

  Jake and Mandie waited patiently. At length the hunting party melted into the trees. One moment they were there, the next they were gone. Jake was relieved he wouldn’t have to face them in this deathly silent forest.

  Neither of the remaining Irians wore optics. Instead, they busied themselves with various camp chores. The skins were removed from the smoke pit and the coals smothered with water. Jake heard the fizz of steam and instinct brought him to his feet. He would need to move quietly and efficiently. He had no doubt that Mandie would follow his lead.

  Using the pine needles to soften his footfall, Jake edged around one of the tents, keeping his center of gravity low to the ground. An Irian appeared before him in side profile, rinsing what looked like rice from a ceramic plate. Jake bowled into the slight alien figure and took it to the ground. He barely had time to notice the trapper’s strange-smelling breath before he planted a hand over its mouth.

  Death would come, but it would take valuable seconds. The other Irian was approaching from the smoke pit, pistol in hand.

  Jake rolled underneath his captive, using the alien as a rudimentary shield. That allowed Mandie an extra half second to aim true. The standing Irian suddenly had a combat knife protruding from its throat. It let loose a stifled gasp as it sank to its knees. The merc rushed over to complete the job, kicking the butt of the knife so it passed clean through the victim’s throat.

  The duellist finished his own grisly task, holding firm until his quarry had fallen limp. And then another half minute. He was far too experienced to fall for that old trick.

  Pushing himself to his feet, Jake kept low and surveyed the trees to the east. The Irian trappers were more than capable of ambushing the pair at a moment’s notice.

  “Let’s move,” Jake muttered, lifting a bulbous water canteen hanging from a wooden stake. He took a deep draught as he approached the shattered boulders that marked the terminus of the dry river bed. This valley had all the hallmarks of an old glacier - steep sides, broken down rock. The climb wouldn’t be easy, but that filled Jake with hope. Better still, anyone tracking them across this kind of terrain would find it extremely difficult.

  Jake wore his optics to delineate the treacherous way ahead. It seemed foolhardy to scramble over tall boulders now that night had settled in but they needed to put some distance on the trapper’s camp. Hopefully their Nostroma trackers ran into the Irians on the way through. Now that would buy a nice parcel of time.

  The pair attacked the river bed with energy they didn’t really have. Jake could hear Mandie stumble once or twice, but he pressed on, determined to find a safe place to make camp. Progress further up the gorge became increasingly dangerous as darkness enclosed them. Jake checked the sky and saw that neither of Tranda’s moons were out tonight.

  At length he found himself in a dead-end surrounded by boulders. He halted at a patch of sodden soil and moss, signaling for Mandie to rest.

  “Cold camp,” he said, panting. “We’ll find another way through in the morning.”

  It was too risky to double back in the thick of night. At least here they would be able to see the Irian trappers if they attacked.

  “Get some sleep,” Mandie said as she settled against the rock. “You look like shit.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Laying himself down on his field mat, Jake drifted to sleep with the sound of trickling water in his ears.

  37

  He woke slightly later than he’d intended. From the look of the sky it was two hours before dawn.

  “Should’ve told me,” he said to Mandie as he sat up. “We have a big day ahead.”

  “You need to be at your best,” the merc replied, not without logic.

  Jake nibbled on a protein bar and listened to the sounds of the river bed. An animal was scuffing about to the north. That trickle of water Jake had heard earlier was coming from underneath the boulders.

  “Underground stream,” he muttered. It was a good sign. Considering the difficulty of this pass, the monks wouldn’t have made it through without a water supply.

  “We’re on the right track,” he said, winking at Mandie. “We come to the monastery as penitents,” he said. “They’ll take us in. They have to.”

  “Doesn’t mean they’ll reveal their deepest secrets,” Mandie pointed out. “But then, if anyone can break them open, you can.”

  Jake looked away - he wasn’t in the mood for compliments.

  “This Fusar’s a lucky girl,” she added.

  The duellist grimaced, but Mandie deserved reassurance. She was probably wondering how much faith she should invest in him. The Nostroma didn’t exactly have a warm and fuzzy reputation throughout the galaxy.

  “I’ve killed a lot of people,” he said finally, picturing some of the faces that still occasionally haunted his sleep. “I don’t mourn them. Madness lurks on that path.”

  Mandie nodded, suggesting she’d also killed in her line of work.

  “But the other way is hard too,” he continued. “I can’t just shut down.”

  He met Mandie’s eyes.

  “So I’m learnin’ to honor the living,” he said. “You get older and you find more reasons to protect them. Whoever they may be.”

  Mandie seemed to understand. “This is about the Norgaardi, isn’t it?” she asked quietly. “It all comes back to the Prophecy.”

  “I don’t buy their sales pitch,” Jake said with more anger than he intended. “Why should we fight each other to see who’s worthy of enlightenment? I think they’re softening us for invasion.”

  Mandie’s eyes hardened. “It’s a trap,” she agreed. “Many humans have come to the same conclusion.”

  Jake grinned sadly. “I guess you folk have been conditioned to spot traps a mile away,” he said. “In any case, the Cava05 have chosen to play the game and that’s all that matters. They need to be stopped.”

  “The Five Catalysts,” Mandie said, deep in thought. “You found the First on Cerulean. A boy who turned the tide of war against the Cava05. The Jaj girl in this monastery is another. What’s her purpose? How can one young woman turn the tide of war?”

  Jake’s lowered his eyes. He hoped he didn’t look as sheepish as he felt. “I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “Only that Fusar is definitely a Catalyst. Don’t ask me how I know. There’s nothing scientific or logical about it.”

  Mandie stood in the musky blue of the near dawn. “Then we liberate her or die,” she said with finality. Jake took her in his arms.

  “That’s right,” he murmured. “Let’s just do it because it happens to be fuckin’ right.”

  Mandie grunted in assent. If Jake could cleanse himself of sin on Tranda IX, so could she.

  With steely resolve they cleared the camp and backtracked through the shattered boulders. In the murky pre-dawn Jake saw a jagged ledge that allowed access to the next level of river bed. He hauled himself up first and lifted Mandie with a strong arm.

  The light was a little brighter here. The boulder-strewn river bed continued for half a mile before dog-legging slightly to the east.

  “This could be it,” Jake said, daring to hope. The pair made their way slowly up the tricky river bed, the sun imminent over the cliff face to their right. The duellist occasionally glanced over his shoulder but there was no sign of pursuit. He hoped the Nostroma trackers had either bumped into the Irians or strayed into a different valley.

  Even though the pair stuck to the shade cast by the eastern cliff face, Jake was once again sodden with sweat by mid-morning. The valley was closing in on them. They’d rounded the dog leg but for all their efforts they’d only traveled a half mile.

  The passage northeast was even slower going. The boulders didn’t get any smaller and there was less space to work in. Jake regretted not bringing a harpoon and cable. And yet if the monks had once made the journey, so could he. They had probably formed a human chain along the valley and transferred materials the old-fashioned way.

  And so they pressed onward. M
andie never once uttered a word of complaint. Jake couldn’t have asked for a better travel companion. He could hear her steps close behind, each one falling diligently where his had landed.

  By the early afternoon the boulders were too large to climb over. They were forced to squeeze through tight passages, relishing the cool, damp air there. An ever-present trickle of water allowed them to replenish their supplies.

  At length the valley, now extremely narrow, dog-legged again. The way into that passage required a tricky little climb up a ten-foot granite wall. Jake eventually found viable if treacherous footholds and hauled Mandie up once he’d made it. Panting heavily, he called camp under a gnarled fig tree. As the pair munched on sticks of hard-boiled kelp, they pondered the way ahead - a gently undulating eastern passage.

  “Can’t be far,” Jake mused.

  “If this ain’t the valley,” Mandie said, grasping for a positive, “at least we’ve run our trackers ragged.”

  Jake had to smile at that. But to find nothing would be devastating. There was no evidence of groundwater here, but an above-ground rivulet was visible further down the way. He was eager to continue, his hopes intact. The eastern passage, though extremely narrow, was blessedly devoid of boulders.

  And yet a new danger had emerged - the ground was slick with moss and dangerous underfoot. Worse still, the north bank was heaped with scree. Jake found it nigh impossible to walk on those smooth pebbles, finding himself flat on his back more than once. It was easier to walk through the water.

  Frustrated by their lack of progress, Jake maintained a stony silence for an hour and a half before the passage officially became a steep-sided ravine. The pair inched their way across slick granite sheeted with ice-cold water. At least now they could use one of the sheer walls to keep balance.

  Jake could only imagine the injuries the monks sustained carrying heavy gear through this passage. A pleasant breeze from the south lifted his spirits as they edged forward through the chasm.

  Ahead, Jake could see the distant plain trending to a hazy horizon. His wrist pad told him they were more than 1400 feet above sea level. It was certainly harder to suck oxygen up here. All the duellist could do was concentrate on his footing and keep his head down. He tried to regulate his breathing and maintain a clear head.