"Oi just know their kind. Every corporation employs the same handful o’ security contractors who dole out these mercenaries masquerading as security forces."
"Maybe they'll be on their best behavior since we're with the ambassador," Kimberly suggested.
It turned out they were not on their best behavior. "Name?" a hulking guard asked, glaring at Kimberly as she passed. Maybe he was angry about processing so many passengers at once. Had they interrupted his lunch break or something?
"Evonne Sommrich," Kimberly replied, reciting the name displayed on her passport which she had memorized on the journey to the Epsilon system. She resisted the urge to fidget and hoped she wouldn't break out into a sweat. The best techs in the FIA had forged her credentials and proliferated the details onto the Shadownet, yet there was still a chance her cover could be blown. Would the ambassador intercede on her behalf if she were caught? No, Isabelle said they were on their own. If they were caught with falsified credentials they would be captured, interrogated and imprisoned for a long time. She swallowed hard.
The man held her passport up to a scanning pad. For several seconds nothing happened, then finally it flashed green. He shoved it back at her, almost causing her to drop it. "You're clear to enter."
Kimberly bowed her head. "Thank you, sir." The action elicited a surprised expression from the guards, followed by a narrowing of his eyes. Crap, she forgot merchants didn't say thank you to lowly security guards, let alone show deference by referring to them as sir. More words wouldn't help the situation, so instead she dropped her passport back into her bag, looked straight ahead and passed through the body scanner, head held high and back straight. Fake it till you make it, fake it till you make it, she repeated in her mind. No alarms went off and she turned to watch Corbin and Baillidh passing through. Baillidh got through without any problem.
"Did they take your datapad?" she whispered.
"No, ma'am," he replied in a whisper.
"Maybe Corbin was telling a tall..." she stopped at a commotion at the scanning station.
"Get yer hands off me!" Corbin shouted. "Ye ain't stealing me stuff."
Kimberly raised her hand to slap it against her face but then remembered his fake position and settled for clenching her fist at her side. She approached the station, or as close as she could come without passing through the body scanner and shouted, "Is there a problem with my servant?"
"This guy's tryin' ta steel my cred-card," Corbin said indignantly. He glared at the security guards, who seemed unaffected and exhibited no remorse.
"Move along," the guard growled. "Or else."
"Corbin," Kimberly warned. The last thing they needed was Corbin being thrown into a back room to rot for a while. "Apologize to the guard and get moving. I have places to be."
Her haughty tone snapped Corbin out of his anger. He gave her a sheepish glance, whether real or fake it didn't matter, and bowed. "Yes, ma'am." He turned to the guard. "Oi apologize for the false accusation. Sir." The "sir" came out as if he were being asked to eat something slimy and horrible smelling.
The guard glared at Corbin, perhaps still considering making his life a living Hell. But after several tense seconds he handed Corbin's passport back. "Move along," he repeated.
This time Corbin did not argue. He passed through the body scanner and joined Baillidh on the other side. Kimberly strode up to him and slapped him, part for show and part out of real anger. What had gotten into his mind that would cause him to act in such a way when the stakes were high? She told him as much. "Fool! I'm docking you a day’s pay for that stunt. Pray I don't punish you further."
Corbin bowed his head but gave her a hooded glare, communicating his lack of appreciation for her faking it. "Yes, mistress," he said.
Kimberly turned and walked in the direction the ambassador's retinue had gone. She saw them in the distance near the exit of the docking facility. She walked as fast as she could while wearing high heels.
A line of hover-limousines waited when they passed through the doors and entered the outside once again. The air smelled...clean. Too clean. It smelled sanitized in a way her home planet or even Tar Ebon never had. It smells fake, she thought. Like they're trying to pretend dirt and trash and grime don't exist. Living in their own utopia built on the backs of the poor.
One limousine driver held a holo-sign with "Miss Sommrich" flashing.
Kimberly stopped in front of the door to the limousine. Corbin was walking around the other side of the limo. Kimberly cleared her throat.
Corbin stopped and looked at Kimberly. "What?"
Kimberly widened her eyes, looked toward the limo door and tilted her head.
"Oh, sorry m'lady. Oi'm a bit slow," he explained to the limo driver. He came around the limo and opened the door for Kimberly.
She did not thank him, instead entering the limousine in as stately a manner as possible. Baillidh and Corbin entered on the other side and sat across from her. She motioned for him to close the glass between them and the driver. "For all your talk of faking it, Corbin, you're doing a poor job."
He lowered his voice. "Maybe it's part of me plan, lassy. Make everyone thing oi'm a half-wit."
That was surprisingly brilliant. If anyone was keeping tabs on her retinue they might be watching their every move. She looked out both side windows and the back window, as if spies would be so obvious. "Baillidh, can you detect any bugs or electronic surveillance on us?"
Baillidh looked up from his datapad. "I've already scanned for bugs. We're clean. As for electronic surveillance, there is so much signal saturation here I can't tell what is directed at us or not. I'm recording the data, though, and if we're being monitored I should be able to isolate the signal as we move."
"That's better than nothing," Kimberly said.
The limousine jerked as it glided away, following the rest of the ambassador's retinue. The plan was to arrive at the embassy, get their bearings and register as Federation citizens traveling abroad as expected and then rendezvous with the resistance forces. Advance communication with the resistance was forbidden, they would have to knock on their proverbial door and speak with them. Twenty minutes later the limousine came to a halt as it waited in line for the Federation embassy to let them in. Each limousine in the line passed through a vehicle scanner and presumably the identities of the occupants was confirmed. The ambassador's vehicle passed through quickly, while the rest were subjected to higher scrutiny. When it was their turn the driver rolled down the windows of the limo. Kimberly felt exposed, even though she was entering Federation soil.
"Name?" the Federation guard asked. He wasn't as gruff as the private security fellow had been, but he was all business.
"Evonne Sommrich," she replied. "Merchant from Tar Ebon. These are my servants." She offered her passport and prompted Corbin and Baillidh to surrender theirs.
The guard checked each of the three for several seconds before handing them back. "Clear to enter," he said, slapping the top of the limo to signal the driver.
Inside the gates the limos lined up around the circle drive in front of the embassy. The building was modeled after older Tar Ebon architecture, with white marble pillars holding up the overhanging roof before entering the white embassy building. A flurry of activity ensued as porters carried luggage and other supplies into the building. The ambassador strolled up the steps, ignoring the bustle around him. He didn't have to fake it.
"Let's get inside and get settled," Kimberly said aloud, though both men likely remembered the plan still. "Then we'll seek out our friends." Her feet were hurting her already, but she hadn't brought a change of clothing. She'd have to go shoe shopping before tromping out to meet the rebels.
Chapter 5 - Fire in the Deep
"Sir, the Judicator has returned."
"Ah, good.” No news was good news in this case. They had received no word from the fleet requesting aid.
"We're receiving a broadcast from the Judicator, sir."
"Probably to repor
t the good news. Let's hear what they have to say."
"This is Commander Dent to Fleet Command. I have casualties to report."
Casualties? Martin thought. "Zigana, how many support ships did they leave with?"
"The same number as they have now, sir."
Commander Dent went on, "During operations in the system we were ambushed by the Krai'kesh. The fleet was able to escape mostly intact. However, Victory Squadron performed a rear-guard action to allow for our escape. There were no survivors."
Martin stared out the viewport in shock for a moment, not believing his ears. No survivors? Several of his pilots had been promoted to Victory Squadron temporarily. "Zigana, call up the list of our pilots in Victory Squadron."
"Of course, sir."
"Supreme Commander, I request permission to come aboard and speak with you about this matter in person."
The link was silent for a moment. Was the Supreme Commander in as much shock as Martin? Surely not, he had seen hundreds, perhaps even thousands, more lives lost in battle over the centuries. Even for Martin it wasn't the loss of life which hit hard, pilots and soldiers sometimes died in war. No, it was the suddenness of losing an entire squadron.
"Permission granted," Dawyn replied.
"Sir," Zigana began, puzzlement in his voice. "I was searching for signs of hull damage or decreased shield integrity as a result of Krai'kesh weapons but am unable to detect any. Also, my connection to the returning ships is being blocked."
Martin furrowed his brows and looked to Zigana. "Blocked? By who?"
"The Tactical Commander of the Judicator, sir."
"Can they do that?"
"It is against Federation regulation R262 but it is technologically possible."
"Can you break through the block?"
"Given enough time, sir, yes."
"Do it." A suspicious feeling took hold in his stomach. They had just had near mutiny among the admiralty. Could the animosity expressed during the meeting of the admirals have spread that quickly? Or had it already been festering? No, they were jumping to conclusions. They had no evidence of wrongdoing on the part of the Judicator. Not enough to accuse them of betraying their own.
A shuttle launched a minute later from the Judicator on a path to the Nightblade. It had no sooner docked than a signal originated from the Judicator. "For the glory of Rae!" Commander Dent shouted. A reddish-orange burst of flame erupted from the hangar bay of the Nightblade and pieces of the hull flew out into space.
Shit, Martin thought. "Raise shields!" he snapped at Zigana. "Activate weapons and target the Judicator but hold fire until I say. Launch all fighters." The pieces were starting to click together in his mind. A returning fleet which had run into Krai'kesh resistance but received no damage, no other casualties other than Victory Squadron reported and the Judicator's Tactical Commander blocking Zigana.
Target lock alarms sounded as dozens of missiles erupted not just from the Judicator but several ships in its battle group and others scattered throughout the fleet. Had everyone gone mad? The Judicator activated its engines and moved on a direct intercept course toward the Nightblade. A chill went up Martin's spine. He had no other choice. "Focus fire on the Judicator. Order our fighters to form a screen. Nothing gets close to us, not fighters or transports. We don't know who we can trust."
A blast sounded behind him, followed by a surprised grunt and a thump. Martin turned to see one of the Marines who had been flanking the door pointing his rifle at Martin, while the other Marine lay on the floor unmoving. "Order the shields lowered and recall your fighters."
Martin gritted his teeth. Traitors aboard his own ship? He didn't remember the Marine's name so he tried a different tactic. "Why are you doing this?"
"The god-emperor Rae commands it," the Marine recited, as if by rote.
God-emperor? "I've never heard of him." His hand drifted toward his sidearm.
The Marine shook his head. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. You will hear of the god-emperor soon enough. He comes and with Him comes glory for those who worship Him."
Martin rolled his eyes and shook his head but moved his hand away from his sidearm. "All right, let's say your god-emperor is real," he paused as the Marine lifted his rifle in warning. "Okay, your god-emperor is real." In his head, he thought. "Where is he?"
"He crosses the void as we speak. But His harbingers have come to prepare the galaxy for His return."
Martin frowned. There was a lot to read into in that statement. Crosses the void? Return? That implied he had been there before. Unless... "He's a Krai'kesh?" he asked in disbelief.
The Marine snorted. "Fool. He is far beyond a mere Krai'kesh. He is the god-emperor of the Krai'kesh, the one who created them and who rules them."
"So, still related to the Krai'kesh."
"You know nothing, Captain Rigsby. Enough stalling. Lower your shields and recall your fighters."
Martin looked at the sensor display. The Judicator was nearing the Nightblade, which looked to have lost a good portion of its starboard side to the vacuum of space. What kind of ordnance had they used? They had to stop the Judicator before it rammed the Nightblade and finished the job.
Zigana, Martin said through his implant. Can you notify security?
I already have, sir. The master-at-arms is mustering a team, but they are concerned about casualties among bridge crew, including you, should they try to breach.
We're going to have a lot more casualties on our hands if we lower the shields.
I understand, sir. The master-at-arms is determining the best method of breaching. There is also the matter of betrayal in other areas of the ship. A group of sailors were caught trying to raid the armory after the broadcast went out. Their plan was foiled, but the crew are on high alert and tensions are high.
I'll try to keep him talking a little longer. "You're willing to die for a god you've never seen or met? A god that rules over another race? What benefit does that give you?"
"I would not expect the unenlightened like you to understand, but we have been promised everlasting life for our service to the god-emperor."
"And that is a promise religion has been making for thousands of years," Martin said. "It's not exclusive to this god-emperor of yours. What guarantee do you have that he will follow through?"
"The Book of Rae tells of His coming. It has foretold this invasion and speaks the truth about the past."
"Oh really?" He would have to get his hands on that book...if he didn't get shot first.
The Marine looked at the sensor display. "You're stalling." He lifted his rifle up and thrust it toward Martin. "Lower the shields." He pointed his rifle at one of the sensor operators, Sandra. "Unless you want to lose your crew one-by-one."
"What is your plan, Marine? To die a martyr?"
"I do what is required for the glory of Rae. Even as we speak our plans are being carried out on this ship and across the fleet. Rae's will shall be done."
What a fanatic.
Sir, a security team is staging outside the door to the bridge. I am going to open on their command.
Martin kept his expression neutral. Do it.
"Well, I hate to tell you this but," he paused as the door to the bridge slid open.
The Marine spun, but before he could fire a shot four energy beams slammed into him, melting his armor and burning into his flesh. He screamed, dropped to the floor, and stopped moving.
Martin nodded to the Master-At-Arms, Boden Moss. "Thank you, Master-at-Arms."
Boden nodded to him. "Just doing my job, sir. The brig is starting to fill up with traitors. There have been a few casualties. I have men I can trust guarding critical infrastructure such as engineering and munitions. It appears the extent of their plan was to wreak as much havoc as possible when the broadcast came through."
"Well, they certainly caused some havoc, but it could have been much worse. Please see that all the wounded are treated as soon as possible." He focused on the fallen Marine for a moment. He wa
s not breaking.
Martin turned back to the sensor display where the Judicator was taking heavy damage as the Nightblade and a few other Black Fleet ships fired on it but the gap was narrow. Even as Martin watched the Judicator plowed into the Nightblade. Explosions rumbled through the interior of the ship, spreading outward as the Judicator crumbled against the hull. Then the unthinkable happened. The Nightblade split in two.
"Abandon ship, abandon ship," came the call from Dawyn.
Shit, Martin thought. "Dispatch transports for rescue operations. Try to find the Supreme Commander. Order our fighters to provide protection. How many more ships have gone rogue?"
"I am trying to discern the exact number, sir. Missiles and projectiles are flying in every direction. Two ships have targeted us but not fired yet."
"I hate not knowing who we can trust. Fire on anyone who fires on us first or that we can verify has gone rogue."
"Yes, sir."
At that moment, the front half of the Nightblade, the portion which contained the bridge, exploded.
***
Derek sat with his squad in the mess hall munching on stale, dry chips when the talking died down and whispering began. What's going on? he thought.
He caught a word, "Victory," and thought there may have been a victory against the Krai'kesh he missed. But then he heard "Victory Squadron." That was the squadron Selene had transferred to. He stood up and walked to where the whispers had originated. A Marine wearing the insignia of a communication officer stood there. "What's this about Victory Squadron?"
"I overheard some chatter saying Victory Squadron was lost during a recent mission," he replied.
Derek felt a chill down his spine and a lump in his throat. "And you're sure?"
"Positive. Heard it myself."
Derek turned, numb, and walked past where his squad indulged in their own unappetizing meals.
"Sir?" one Marine asked.
Derek didn't answer. Selene. He wandered out of the building and focused on walking. It couldn't be true. They had just begun to have a real connection and the universe had to take her away from him? Then another thought hit him. Had John and Ashley been told? How would they take the news their daughter was dead?
Ruin: A Seven Stars Novel (Dark Tide Trilogy Book 3) Page 5
