Magnitude: A Space Opera Adventure (Blackstar Command Book 2)

by A. C. Hadfield

  “Whoa, sorry,” Bandar said. “I was in a world of my own. Didn’t realize you were awake.”

  “Same here. Sleep well? Coffee’s brewed if you want a bulb.”

  “I’d love one, thanks. And yeah, feeling fresh for the first time in weeks,” he said with a glint in his eye and the roguish smile that he got from his father. The chrome prosthetic that covered half of his face was so expertly made that it hadn’t affected his bone structure, and the similarity with his father was still evident.

  Bandar filled a bulb with coffee and sat opposite Brenna at the small four-person table. He took two long gulps of his coffee and let out a raspy sigh as he swallowed the hot, bitter liquid. A slow smile, small but clearly apparent at the corners of his mouth, appeared.

  “Looks like you needed that,” Brenna said.

  “Probably won’t help with the unease I feel going through these wormholes, but it’s better than jacking up on Equilibrium through regular FTL travel, that’s for sure.”

  An awkward silence developed between them. Brenna had so many questions but didn’t want to know the answer to most of them. She had received reports over the years of the life Bandar had led on Zarunda. At one time she had wondered if he wasn’t taking his cover story too far. She decided to keep things simple for now and address her main concern.

  “What do you make of Marella?” Brenna asked as she glanced over her shoulder to make sure the galley door was closed, which to her relief was.

  Bandar shrugged and took another gulp of coffee before leaning back against the bulkhead wall. “She seems okay. Not a bad looker for a Lantesian. Seems to have gotten involved with some bad types on Parsephus. According to Kai, she helped out a great deal in getting the Blackstar.”

  “Ah yes, the journey to Oberus,” Brenna said, recalling the whole story.

  “She’s a curious sort,” Bandar added. “But I don’t think she means any harm. Sure, she’s a bit tactless and has a way about her that makes her seem on edge all the time, but can you blame her? You, me and Kai are related, and Sen is virtually Kai’s sister. She must feel like an outsider among us.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe she’s distanced from us because she has things she doesn’t want us to know.”

  Bandar leaned forward and lowered his voice now, becoming every part of the conspiratorial crime lord that he fitted so well. “Like what?”

  How much should she tell him? Brenna considered the ramifications. Would it help or hinder their cause if she were to confide in her son that she suspected Marella of having an affair with Kendal? Given Bandar’s close relationship with his father, soldiers in arms for many years, she couldn’t be completely certain of his reaction. And given his time on Zarunda, being Bandar Trace, she now had to admit to herself that she couldn’t completely trust him either. War changed people in myriad ways, and for him to have spent all that time living under a fake identity—who knew how far the changes went?

  Brenna waved it away and sat back. “It’s nothing. I just find her curiosity a little annoying. For example, since we’ve been on this side of the Veil, we’ve seen some extraordinary things—new species, worlds—but none of that seems to interest her, despite her supposed career as a historian and her fascination with all things Navigator.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Bandar said, draining his coffee and standing up. “She seems harmless to me.”

  “How’s the leg, by the way?” Brenna asked, nodding her head to the wound he’d taken on Patari. The smart bandage was still wrapped around it, the dark-gray gel layer merging with his dull-colored fatigues.

  “A bit of a limp, but no pain. Just a small flesh wound. It’ll take more than a few Patari peashooters to dampen my day.”

  “Good to hear. I’m heading up to the bridge, see how things are going. Unless you’ve got anything urgent to do, I’d like you to come with me so I can get you fully acquainted with the weapons systems.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  BRENNA AND BANDAR entered the bridge of the Rapier to find Marella sitting in the copilot seat, watching a video playing on the view screen.

  “Hey,” Bandar said, his voice full of sincere friendliness. “What are you watching?”

  Marella physically startled at Bandar’s words. She looked over her shoulder and forced a smile when she saw Brenna there.

  Brenna cocked an eyebrow to reiterate the question.

  The Lantesian woman spun back around and switched off the stream.

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” she said. “Just something Senaya… it doesn’t matter.”

  Bandar stepped forward and placed a meaty hand on her shoulder. “I’d like you to switch it back on… I saw something.”

  “Yes, Marella,” Brenna added, “we’d all like to see what you were watching.” She folded her arms across her chest, indicating to the younger woman that Brenna was the captain of the ship and would not take no for an answer.

  Marella hesitated but eventually, under the glare of both of them, relented and replayed the video. It showed a group of people surrounding two bodies lying on the ground.

  Bandar and Brenna watched the short video in fascination. Although relating to Senaya, it didn’t mean anything to Brenna. Her son apparently found something or someone within it very interesting, though.

  “Stop the video there,” he ordered. Then, leaning over Marella, he pointed to a blurred image of a young woman in the crowd around the murder scene. “I know her.”

  “Who is she?” Marella asked.

  “A princess to some old monarchy on a dying planet. They were funding some of the war effort in the Z-89 sector against the Host. I don’t know why she’s there, though. What did Senaya tell you about this video?”

  Marella explained that it was the only recording Senaya had of her cousins’ death at the hands of an alien assassin. She pointed her out toward the edge of the frame. She was wearing a municipal driver’s uniform and put something into her jacket before heading away from the scene. Using the Rapier’s video analysis suite of tools, Marella had shown that it was a weapon the assassin had placed inside her jacket.

  “So,” Brenna said, leaning forward to take a closer look at the screen, “Senaya’s a baby and offscreen somewhere. The two dead bodies are her cousins on their way to a peace summit between the Coalition and Host—that could potentially be the reason for their deaths. A segment of either government may not have wanted the peace talks to have gone as well as they ultimately did, but that doesn’t explain why a princess to a wealthy monarchy is in the crowd. She can’t be much older than a teenager. What would she be doing on a planet so far from her own without any counsel or protection?”

  “That’s a good question,” Bandar said, tapping a finger against the bottom edge of his chrome face guard. “This planet is not far from the Capsis system. It was used as a protected DMZ to hold the peace talks, is that right?” He looked toward Marella, who nodded.

  “Yes, it’s the only habitable planet in the Juani system. It was also where the Host officially surrendered, signaling the end of the war.”

  “This doesn’t bring us any closer to finding out why Senaya’s cousins were killed,” Brenna said. “It’s just a guess that it was something to do with the peace talks. It doesn’t explain why the assassin tried to kill her on Zarunda. She was just a baby at the time, and this video doesn’t show anything that she hadn’t already known. There must be some other reason. Bandar, you have any thoughts?”

  His face was still and his eyes slightly squinted as if concentrating. He rolled an unlit jola leaf cigar between his fingers as he hummed quietly, a gesture Brenna had begun to recognize; Kendal used to do the same thing, but with vapor-sticks in lieu of cigars. A rush of emotion hit her. She missed Kendal so much.

  Pushing the emotion down, she listened to her son’s theory. It was a good distraction.

  “It’s got to be something to do with the princess,” Bandar said. “Given how wealthy that family was, there’s no way they’d let
an heir to the throne be on her own for more than a few minutes. Especially near a murder scene. Marella, why don’t you follow that lead up and see what happened to the princess and the family after the war. Perhaps that’ll shed some light?”

  “Sounds like a reasonable line of inquiry,” Marella said. She smiled briefly at Bandar before turning away.

  The show of bashfulness irritated Brenna more than it should.

  Now that they were working closely together on the Rapier, Brenna could keep a close eye on her. Perhaps that was what Kai had planned all along. Seemed like her stepson was smarter than she had given him credit for.

  Chapter 23

  GENERAL RATIC HOMINOS stood at the large glass windows of his office and stared out at the metropolis below. There was little traffic today, mirroring the pattern of the previous few days. The media were actually doing a good job of keeping the population informed of the threat without inciting them to panic.

  Hominos’s PR spokespeople were giving the media twice-daily reports on the situation.

  With almost thirty battles now ongoing just beyond the border of Host and Coalition space, there was a lot of which to inform the public.

  And given how much of a large portion of the Coalition fleet was now made up by conscripted civilian craft and crew, he felt it only proper to keep their loved ones in touch with what was happening—within reason, of course. He oversaw each and every brief. There was a fine line between updating the public and unnecessarily scaring them.

  Directly above the government building that held his office, a patch of dark clouds broke apart, leaving almost a perfect circle through which the sun shined, adorning the building with bright light and warmth. For a brief moment, Hominos closed his eyes and became mindful of the heat coming through the glass, warming his skin. He had found himself taking increasingly more notice of these small experiences.

  Ever since Miles’s tragic death at the hands of that monster Farah Hett, and the image of all those Koldax machines at his command, Hominos had sensed the faint stirrings of fear deep within his soul.

  But unlike the traitorous former general, Amelia, he would not cow to that fear. He would not run and defect to survive. He would die for the Coalition if it came to it. He used the fear as fuel. Fuel for a hatred that he would wield like a weapon to strike against those who would threaten his people, his fleet, his section of the galaxy.

  A knock on the door broke him out of his mindful state and brought him crashing back to reality.

  “Yes?” Hominos called, turning away from the window.

  One of the two guards poked his head around the door. “The analysts have a report for you, General. They wish to speak with you in their labs. Apparently, they have something highly confidential and important to share with you.”

  Good. He’d been waiting impatiently for their report on the signal that they had detected shortly after the Host queen had enacted orders on behalf of her new lord, Farah Hett.

  “Thank you. I’ll go right away.”

  “Would you like one of us to accompany you to the labs, General?” the young guard said, almost stumbling back into the corridor as Hominos paced across his office swiftly, eager to find out what his analysts had come up with.

  “No. I’ll be fine on my own. I know the way. You two remain here at my office.”

  “Yes, sir!” the pair of guards said in perfect unison as they snapped off a hasty salute.

  Hominos strode past them and down the corridor toward the elevator that would take him farther down into the government complex, where a suite of labs and offices housed the Coalitions best scientists and intelligence analysts.

  A tingle in his spine gave his step an extra spring.

  He was eager to find a crack in this new enemy’s shell. In all of his years of service and research, he’d yet to find an alien species without an exploitable weakness. He tapped his fingers anxiously against his thigh as the elevator made its way down fifteen levels, deep beneath the ground of Goddenia.

  The terminal on his wrist flashed green with each level as his access code was scanned and accepted. After what seemed like an eternity, the elevator came to a halt, the doors opened, and the clinical smell of the labs wafted in, tainting the air.

  Hominos wasted no time. He stepped out of the elevator with purpose, heading down a brightly lit, gray-walled corridor.

  Scientists of all species in lab coats turned to face him from beyond the inset windows, but he cared not about them. His people were behind the highly secure red door at the far end. A door that only selected staff, himself and the presidents had access to.

  When he entered the administrative credentials, he stepped inside to a tense atmosphere.

  Only three people sat around the wooden table: President Desmona Lattis; the acting head of the GTU, Alisa Mathieson; and the head of the analysis department, an old wizened Tasarel named Gaila Frey. The latter looked up at Hominos with wide eyes half covered with bushy, graying eyebrows. Concern was etched on his old wrinkled face.

  Lattis and Mathieson remained stoic, presumably because they were now hardened to these high-pressure situations.

  President Lattis stood, her corpulent body rippling with the movement. She held out her hand to indicate a seat at the wooden table within the sparsely decorated, highly secret room. “Take a seat, General. We’ve much to discuss.”

  “Thank you, Ms. President.”

  She waved her hand as she sat down. “Call me Lattis. I’m sick of the procedure and pomp. Hell is breaking loose and we don’t have time for the ceremony. Alisa, Gaila, please explain to the general the current situation.

  At first, Hominos found he had to hide the rising sense of being left out of something. That these three already knew something and had clearly strategized without him made him feel like an outsider. He was about to question that when Gaila, the old Tasarel scientist, stood up and gestured to the blank rear wall.

  A video screen appeared.

  “You’ll recognize these ships,” Gaila said as a matter of fact. “They’re a day away from the Host capital in preparation of nuking it to hell and back. You’ll also notice that ahead of the formation is a Host government shuttle.”

  Hominos clearly saw this and nodded his head. “What do they want?”

  “They… want to negotiate an alliance.”

  “An alliance?” Hominos repeated, unsure if he had heard correctly. Not an hour ago, the Host forces and the Coalition fleets were battling across the galaxy. “Are you sure?”

  Mathieson handed Hominos a data pad with the official request, signed by the new Host empress. An individual named Reyes Kamala.

  Hominos knew a great deal about this Kamala; he had a data report on almost all of the Host’s administration.

  As soon as Farah Hett had killed the previous empress, Kamala took control of the Host’s affairs and controlling senate. Although, this one was from a rival house to the previous empress. House Kamala was controversial in that it was a house known for its violent past and was a singular monoculture made up of a fringe species: the Gratellians, a hairless, humanlike species known for their unique perspective on morals. Mostly in that they rarely had any, which naturally meant they were well-suited to leadership and positions of control.

  While Hominos read through the proposal for discussions, Gaila flicked the video screen over to a new display: a direct recording from the current Host empress.

  “She sent a video message as soon as the shuttle was within distance,” Gaila said, his eyebrows twitching with every word. “It was surprising enough that the fleet thought you should see it first before they acted. As far as they can ascertain, the shuttle is on its own with no other ship signatures detectable.”

  “Which doesn’t mean there isn’t anything there,” Mathieson added with a grim expression on her face. She had clearly not taken Miles’s death easily.

  “Indeed,” Lattis added. “We’ve already discovered the Koldax ship has cloaking abilities. We have t
o be mindful that all of this could well be a trap.”

  Gaila almost sighed with exasperation at that suggestion, prompting a stern look from the president. The old scientist didn’t shrink, though. Instead, he explained, “Given what’s on the video and the proposal Kamala is offering, it’s highly unlikely to be a trap. If the video got out to the Host Senate, House Kamala would be ruined and Reyes would be charged with treason and ordered to death. She knows that we know that, which means we can take it in good faith. That’s exactly why she’s doing what she’s doing.”

  Lattis thought about this for a moment and nodded her head, her many chins wobbling in agreement. Then all eyes were on Hominos.

  “Let me see the recording, then,” he said.

  The video screen flickered briefly before the image of Reyes Kamala appeared. She was entirely bald, as was the custom of her species. Her skin was perfectly smooth, no doubt augmented. She had no eyebrows, which always made reading the Gratellians difficult. But even without those cues, it was clear to Hominos that she was doing a poor job of holding her fear in check. After blinking a few times and coughing to clear her throat, she finally spoke.

  “I’m addressing the administration of the Coalition. I officially request urgent talks to discuss the Host’s surrender and plans to ally against the Koldax. I have no doubt you’re aware of what happened on Gaszla II. I knew all about your GTU agent within our ranks. In fact, I was the one who helped relay his signal. The reason I did this is because Farah Hett is a monster in all respects of the word. Our previous leader had allied with the Koldax and the shrain purely for the power she thought it would bring her house and solidify her position as the Host’s leader. But she never understood the full ramifications of her actions.”

  She stopped then and took a few breaths before looking over her shoulder and nodding to someone offscreen. A few moments later another person, with a mask over their face, appeared in the frame next to Reyes Kamala, who continued with her proposal.

  “Not only did Yuan Lia strike a bargain with a devil in Farah Hett, but she paved the way for the deaths of billions of Host people for the Koldax to charge their hideous weaponry. We’ve lost over four systems to them, and those heartless machines show no sign of stopping, seemingly indifferent to all the deaths they’re causing their supposed ally. As for the shrain…” The empress shook her head and looked to her left at the masked person.