Five Empires: An Epic Space Opera

by Steven J Shelley

  “There’s a reason I freed you,” he admitted, looking into her fathomless dark eyes. “But you are free nonetheless. No one will trap you ever again. Not while I’m alive.”

  Fusar froze and looked away. Jake sensed she was choked with emotion.

  “I believe you,” she said.

  Jake realized he’d been waiting for this moment since he first set eyes on the Jaj slave.

  “Of course,” she said, “after what I’ve been through, it doesn’t take much to impress me.”

  Jake smiled instantly, seeing a mischievous glint in Fusar’s muddy eyes.

  “I think I could get to like you,” he said.

  “You’ll like me even more once I’ve had a shower,” she quipped.

  “Rope’s up,” came Jean’s harsh voice from outside. She must have been dog tired from scaling that cliff face.

  “Take it,” Jake told Fusar. “Mandie will keep an eye on you down below.”

  Fusar nodded and squeezed her stout body through the hole. Jake spent the next few minutes wondering whether Jean would bother returning the rope to him. But arrive she did with a cursory grunt. Jake took the rope and made his way out to the cliff edge. He was buffeted by a warm breeze coming in off the plains and drank deeply, glad to see the sky.

  He glimpsed blinking lights far above him, off the shoulder of the mountain. Troubled, he leaped off the ledge. The air rushed past his face as he arced over the rock outcrop and raced toward a carpet of coriolis forest. The mechanized release mechanism within the harpoon allowed a steady, consistent drop.

  Jake couldn’t help but smile as he passed beyond the canopy line. His body throbbed and groaned but he was still alive. More importantly, so was Fusar. He was reassured to see the Jaj standing calmly next to Mandie. He reached the soft forest litter and let go of the rope. Verity and Sweet Jean looked ready to move. His fingers instinctively drifted to his pistol butts as he approached the tandem.

  “This is how it’s gonna play,” he said. “You lead us to your ship and we’ll be on our way. I’m sure Ajon Prime will send someone for you.”

  Sweet Jean snorted.

  “It’s not as simple as that,” Verity said. “There are factors here beyond even your god-like control.”

  Jake was about to reply when the the distant thrum of a heavy vessel became apparent. He squinted through the trees, scanning the violet sky for lights. He caught a fragment of white light, thinking instantly of the Caravan of Light. But that couldn’t be right … could it? A bloom of realization hit him and he looked at the women with intense frustration.

  “The Caravan is here,” he said. “Why the fuck would Ajon Prime bring the Cavan fleet down on my head?”

  “You were never going to make it through to Jaj space,” Verity said. “Not without help.”

  Jake’s train of thought crashed and he needed to start yet again. Like most Nostroma he hated being kept in the dark.

  “You aren’t here to stop me?”

  “No, you fucking imbecile,” Sweet Jean spat, demonstrating how she earned her name. “Despite the fact you’ve aged him twenty years in a matter of days.”

  “We need to move,” Verity added. “You’ll get your answers in due course.”

  Jake didn’t have any words, realizing he would get nowhere with these two. He also recognized the urgent need to reach the Caravan, now that it had arrived. With the Nostromic flagship in orbit, the Cavan fleet wouldn’t be far away.

  Jake resented Ajon Prime’s interest in him, especially as he was doing just fine with Mandie. After he’d rescued Fusar it would’ve been a simple matter of securing a drift-capable vessel and sneaking into Jaj space under Cavan noses.

  On the other hand, perhaps what Verity said was true. Was he now a figure of interest for the Cava05? Did they have intel on the Catalyst Prophecy? To know so little was infuriating. And dangerous. The only thing he could do was see what his illustrious leader had to say. Ajon was the only man who could get him through the net that was closing in.

  “Lead the way,” he said tiredly, motioning to Sweet Jean.

  Verity handed out protein bars as they began their trek through the lower woodlands. Fusar in particular seemed enamored with the tasteless chaff. Jake didn’t want to consider what the monks had been feeding her. He took up the rear so he could watch the girl at his leisure. The party made solid progress as night fell. Unlike many of the more tropical forests Jake had visited, this dry forest had a dusty, thin understorey that made trekking relatively easy.

  The women were content to keep their thoughts to themselves. At one point Sweet Jean consulted with Verity, sizing up distant landmarks. Fusar seemed entranced by the dazzling lights of the Caravan as it cruised high orbit. Such a reaction was common even among seasoned travelers, so Jake couldn’t blame the girl for being distracted. It was probably the first ship she’d ever seen.

  At length the terrain evened out and the canopy opened up. The musky soil graduated to the hard-packed clay of the plain.

  “We camp here,” Sweet Jean said, checking her wrist pad. “We landed in swampy terrain and I’d like to see the snakes before they strike.”

  Jake nodded, thinking of Fusar’s bare feet. He was also glad he hadn’t encountered the swamp on his own way in.

  The party made camp quietly and efficiently. Jean saw no reason to disallow a small fire. Jake warmed his weary bones by the flames, glad to have survived what had been a very long day. Mandie and Fusar made themselves as comfortable as possible. They clearly needed time to rest and recharge.

  Fusar, in particular, would need basic medical surveillance for a little while at least. If they had to meet with Ajon Prime, Jake resolved to seek out the best medical attention he could offer.

  “You heard from Fashon?” he asked Verity as casually as possible. She grudgingly passed him a tin of Yarij sardines before answering.

  “Nothing,” she admitted.

  “He likes to keep coms silence,” Jean said defiantly.

  “You know he’s crazy, right?” Jake said. “His mind has been in the Badlands for years.”

  “He was the first to answer Ajon’s call,” Jean said sternly, as if Jake was the most ungrateful cur imaginable. “He’s still your brother no matter how many times you abandon him.”

  Jake smiled into the darkness. This was becoming a theme.

  “Of course, you know what our mission on Cerulean involved?” he asked. “The infiltration of the Aegisi envoy. The interrogation of Emilia Danner. The sale of information to the Cava05 so they could invade Solitude with minimal disruption.”

  The silence that greeted this spoke volumes.

  “No, I didn’t think so,” Jake said. “I wonder if Fashon also failed to mention his torture and murder of the target.”

  “We heard rumors,” Verity said sullenly. “It’s not really our business.”

  “Not really your business,” Jake repeated bitterly. “The enigmatic secrecy of the Nostroma. What a wonderfully noble species we are.”

  “Don’t labor the point,” Jean snapped. “You agreed to partner Fashon and go to Cerulean, did you not?”

  “He’s been trying to redeem himself ever since,” Mandie interjected.

  Jean and Verity shared a malicious, infuriating smile. The sheer weight of past transgressions were too great to ever rebuild their trust. Jake had long given up on that idea.

  “I never asked you to come,” he said fiercely. “I don’t care if I never see either of you again. Just tell me why Michael Danner is here.”

  Again, that shared look of secrecy.

  “I swear to the seven Gods I will fucking put a hole in both of you,” Jake said in a deceptively calm voice.

  Verity looked at him, recognizing the danger.

  “Michael was lifted from medical freeze under instruction from Ajon Prime,” she said. “Blue Orchid delivered him to the rescue team. He offered his services as soon as he was briefed on your situation. Ajon Prime thought he would be useful.”
r />   “You mean to tell me that Michael and Fashon traveled together?” he asked.

  “The Aegisi was prepared to put the mission first,” Sweet Jean said. “We’d be lying if we said there wasn’t tension.”

  Jake would’ve given his right arm for a private conversation with the Aegisi boy. Then again, part of him was afraid of what he would find. As amazing as the boy’s recovery had been, he’d been altered by the Brawler. Had his personality changed along with his physiology? That remained to be seen, and it scared Jake on a number of levels.

  The Michael Danner he knew would never have agreed to travel with the man who killed his sister. That was definitely a new shade to the boy’s character.

  Jake rolled into his thermal and prepared for sleep. He let the crackle over the fire seep into his bones as he gratefully found the sweet spot of sleep.

  46

  The duellist woke to the smell of ash. He rose stiffly and took his bearings. A stiff breeze was coming in from the east. Jean’s choice of camp had been sound - they were huddled against a small hill and protected from the elements. The rise was choked with thorny bramble that suggested moist terrain. Jake made sure Fusar was safe before relieving himself against a tree stump. He could hear Verity dismantling her blaster, as was her wont.

  “Get your people ready,” she said coldly.

  The Caravan of Light announced its distant presence with a displacement boom. It was faintly visible against the dawn sky.

  “Then we’d better get moving,” Jake said. “I’m not planning on staying long.”

  He roused Fusar and Mandie, lethargic after the hardships of the previous day. Jean emerged from the trees carrying breakfast - a brace of sticky yams. Jake tasted his warily - a subtle nutty taste.

  After camp was struck, Sweet Jean took point. Jake was again happy to follow from the back. The party made halting progress through flat terrain pockmarked by deep pools of water. The brackish liquid didn’t represent a threat but the snakes that infested the area certainly did. The Nostromic rapid recovery library had no vaccine for some of the local species. Several coiled bodies were spotted in bushes and rocky crags but the day hadn’t warmed up enough for serious activity.

  At length Jake spotted a grounded eagle fighter on the horizon. The appearance seemed to galvanize the party, and progress over the last few clicks was swift. It was mid-morning by the time Jean greeted her ship affectionately and engaged the upper hatch.

  Jake eyed the vessel with interest - it was a standard Nostromic air unit but in great working order. It even sported a cloaking unit on the underhull. Such devices were considered obsolete due to advances in detection technology, but Jake had a soft spot for the old toys.

  “You know the layout, Jake,” Jean said. “Strap in and let us do the rest.”

  “No,” Jake replied calmly.

  “’No?’” Jean echoed, stepping closer. She was a good head taller than he. In the old days they often laughed about her freakish height. Right now she was more intimidating than anything else.

  The stand-off still hadn’t been resolved when Mandie gave a low shout of warning. Jake followed her gaze - two figures stood a few hundred yards to the south. One was forcing the other to drop to his knees.

  Waving Mandie and Fusar back, Jake wandered out for a closer look. The kneeling figure was Van. The monk was bruised, bloodied and defiant. Fashon stood over him like a demented wraith.

  “Just in time, brother,” he drawled, gesturing with his pistol. “Look what I picked up on the way out.”

  Eyes glinting with righteous fury, the monk didn’t bother looking up.

  “This is a good ending,” he said. “Fidelis Prime was for us and no one else.”

  “It was an abomination,” Jake said, trembling with rage. Seeing Van kneeling in the mud, Jake knew what he had to do.

  “You don’t get to kill him, Fashon,” he said, pointing to Fusar. “She does.”

  Fashon’s eyes widened.

  “Kill him?” he gasped. “Why would I want to do that? Do you realize what this man represents? The years of neurological study we can squeeze out of him?”

  “I wouldn’t care if his breath alone could kill simians,” Jake said in disgust. “Either he dies now, or you do.”

  Fashon’s frown turned into a crooked smile. “I have to say, after Cerulean I expected you to be more … contrite.”

  “Cut the bullshit,” Jake said. “I want nothing to do with you. Breaking our tandem was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

  Fashon nodded, smiling, but Jake could tell he’d thrown his brother way off guard.

  “You delight in taking toys away from me,” Fashon said. “Emilia Danner. Michael Danner. Yourself.”

  The implication was clear. There was no turning back now.

  “Put the gun away and stand aside, Fashon,” Jake said, struggling to remain calm. “You’re hurtin’ my ears.”

  “I don’t think you understand, Jakey,” Fashon returned, drawing close to the duellist. “I’m the cybomancer, you’re the meat. Always have been, always will be.”

  Jake was assailed with a number of emotions at once. Fear, regret, even shame. Fashon was attacking his neurons with every trick in the cybomancer’s dirty handbook. Which would be fine under normal circumstances, since Nostroma were typically resistant to neural attack.

  But Jake was hungry and exhausted. Worse still, he was deeply and profoundly disenchanted with his life motive. What was his purpose? Had he deserved to survive as long as he had? These were the questions that lurked in Jake’s mind as he reeled from Fashon’s attack.

  “Fashon,” Jake gasped, dropping to one knee and holding out his right hand in a pathetic entreaty for peace. His mind throbbed with a thousand reasons why he should just curl up and die. Rid the galaxy of his selfish, manipulative soul. He wasn’t sure where Fashon’s attacks ended and his own conclusions began. In many ways his brother was merely shining a light on all the doubts he’d harbored for some time. And who better to do it?

  The duellist opened his eyes, if only to dispel the horrific images swimming languidly like sharks through his thoughts. Fashon was standing over him with an ecstatic grin, drawing strength from Jake’s suffering.

  “Oh, put the gun down,” Fashon said theatrically. Who was he talking to? Mandie?

  “This cunt has had it coming for years,” Fashon said. “If he dies or goes mad, so what? We can take the Jaj bitch wherever she wants.”

  Like all sentient beings who weren’t gods, Fashon Le Sondre had his weaknesses. One of them was a tendency to push too hard. His body. His vices. His enemies. His friends.

  The mention of Fusar triggered a wave of cold, unadulterated anger within Jake. He may have deserved to have his cynical mind stripped and assaulted, but he still had a promise to keep. He focused his mind on a single memory - Fusar, trapped like a rat in that worm pit, hooked to a hideous milking machine.

  He couldn’t tell whether the effect was positive or negative, but it did get him to his feet. Fashon didn’t exactly take a step back, but he looked slightly perturbed nonetheless. A big win as far as Jake was concerned.

  “You’re poison,” he managed to croak. “We’re done, brother. Done.”

  “Then what do you propose?” Fashon asked.

  “A duel,” Jake said. “Just like the old days.”

  Fashon looked at Verity and burst out laughing, as if there was nothing in the galaxy Jake was less likely to pull off.

  “That’s your right, I suppose,” he said absently. It might have been his imagination, but Jake thought he saw fear creep into his brother’s eyes.

  Jake and Fashon had participated in several duels over the years. Cybomancers were often just as adept with the pistol as their duellist partners. They could use their dark arts to sow doubt in their opponents’ minds. It was frequently the difference between life and death.

  Fashon had already launched his worst attacks on Jake, who had ultimately resisted them. It was the younger b
rother’s right to challenge Fashon to armed combat - it was how tandems settled problems in the field when more subtle means weren’t going to work.

  Verity was instantly in Jake’s face, hands on his chest.

  “Don’t do this, Jake,” she pleaded. “Please. He’s my twin brother.”

  Jake felt a ripple of sorrow in his guts.

  It wasn’t Jake she wanted saved, but Fashon. The siblings had always had that preternatural connection that twins tended to have, but they’d never really been close. They shared the same instant of life, which apparently meant more to Verity than whatever Jake represented. His betrayal all those years ago sat heavily with her. He’d been young and stupid, and the cost was still being measured.

  “Family be damned,” he muttered, his mind finally clearing. “If you get in the way I’ll pop you too.”

  Verity took a step back, unable to recognize her brother.

  “He’s going to kill you,” she said, rock solid belief in her eyes. “He’s going to end this and we can all move on.”

  “Positions,” said a strong female voice. Mandie, standing between Jake and his quarry. The mercenary knew that the duel was as inevitable as the wind. She knew Jake.

  Jake turned his back on Fashon, hands on his pistol butts. He looked at Fusar, who stood stock still. She had the bearing of someone utterly perplexed by customs unknown to her. Over to his left, Van looked on with a bloody, gap-toothed smile. Sweet Jean had circled around to cover him.

  Jake could hear Fashon’s deliberate footsteps.

  “Back to back, brothers in arms,” the cybomancer chirped as he assumed his position. He was so close that the tail of his trench coat flapped against Jake’s. Mandie had moved to a lateral position.

  “What did it feel like, ripping your wires out?” Fashon asked softly.

  “Like Jake Le Sondre was going to die,” the duellist replied. “But slowly.”

  Fashon’s laughter floated across the fetid swamp. The boom of leviathan prop bulbs reverberated across the morning sky. The Caravan of Light was low in the sky, and those clustered specks could only be fighter units.

  Mandie raised her arm.