Descent of the Maw

by Erin MacMichael

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  T'nari Renegades—Pleiadian Cycle Chronology

  I - RESURGENCE - Pleiades

  II - BATON - Sirius

  III - RESPITE - Pleiades

  IV - LADY OF THE BELLS - Sirius

  V - BANDU - Pleiades

  VI - GIFTS - Sirius

  VII - LOST - Pleiades

  VIII - TSARI - Sirius

  IX - MOON - Pleiades

  X - FLIGHT - Sirius/Pleiades

  XI - PLEA - Pleiades

  Author's Note

  Reviews and Testimonials, Mailing List, Connect with the Author Online

  Other Publications by This Author

  Excerpt from Blood of the Prime, T’nari Renegades—Pleiadian Cycle, Book I, Chapter 13, “The Elder's Offering”

  Copyright © 2016 by Erin MacMichael

  Descent of the Maw is a work of fiction. Names, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination.

  Excerpt from Blood of the Prime, T’nari Renegades—Pleiadian Cycle, Book I by Erin MacMichael copyright © 2016 by Erin MacMichael

  This excerpt may not reflect the final content of the published edition.

  Published by Reality Raiders Press. http://realityraiders.com/

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover and interior design: Erin MacMichael

  Cover and interior illustrations: © 2016 by Erin MacMichael

  ISBN: 978-1-944873-02-8

  By Erin MacMichael

  Reality Raiders Press

  T’NARI RENEGADES—PLEIADIAN CYCLE

  To Steal a Moon (Prequel Novella)

  Descent of the Maw (Prequel)

  Flare Shifter (Prequel Novella)

  T’nari Blood Claim (Short Story)

  Blood of the Prime (Book I)

  Magnus Talrésian’s heavy boots rang off the walls in the wide corridor. Beside him, his brother-in-law and first officer Alasdair Kincaid and lead pilot Hayk Rikolosian hustled to keep up with his long stride as he led them through Fleet Headquarters on Sahara, the most densely populated world in the Pleiadian star system of Merope. As representatives of the fleet from the axis star Alcyone, the three officers in navy stood out starkly against the light gray uniforms of Meropean personnel crowding the hallways.

  Oblivious to the difficulty his companions were experiencing in keeping up with his pace, Magnus brooded as he walked, resentful that his fond memories of summers spent on Sahara with cherished friends were now tainted by the dire circumstances which had brought them to Merope. The damned Drahkian Empire out of Draco was swallowing the Pleiadian cluster one star system at a time. Only three populated systems remained free of the violent reptilians’ control and when a Drahkian warband had launched an invasion into Merope over two and a half Saharan years prior, the starfleets of Alcyone and Maia had come running to support the Meropean defenses.

  Unfortunately, the allied Pleiadian forces had been unsuccessful in ousting the vicious beasts and had found themselves struggling to counter superior Drahkian technology. The three smallest of Merope’s eight populated worlds had slipped through their fingers, their planetary portal locks broken and reset by some unknown disruptive means which barred re-entry of the home fleet through the energetic grids in the outer atmosphere. The tiny outworld colonies of Gado and Chaka had been the first to go down, followed soon after by Kimbo, Merope’s innermost inhabited world. It was frustrating as hell for all of them to be forced to tolerate Drahkian presence within Merope and to come to terms with the fact that it was only a matter of time before the reptiles came after the portals of the more heavily populated Meropean worlds.

  Magnus took a deep breath and shook out his hands which had unconsciously clenched into fists. Rounding the corner into the wing reserved for business with Fleet Admiral Tungo, he was startled to see a striking, dark-skinned man in flowing mint green robes standing with a number of aides outside the designated conference room watching for their arrival.

  “Ulu!” he called out, hurrying forward to throw is arms around the tall Saharan. “I didn’t think I’d get the chance to see you while we were here.”

  As leader of Sahara’s high council, Ulu Malawi had more on his plate than anyone else on the planet. Gripping Magnus tightly in an affectionate hug, he laughed and stood back, beaming at the strapping dark-haired officer with a bright smile. “When I saw that you would be representing the Alcyoni fleet for this meeting, I rearranged my schedule to make sure I could to attend. How long has it been, my friend?”

  “Far too long, Ulu—before the first attack on Gado,” Magnus replied with a shake of his head.

  “I understand congratulations are in order, Captain Talrésian, and the same to each of you gentlemen,” the councilor offered with an approving nod, indicating the two pony-tailed officers waiting patiently a few paces away.

  Magnus flinched, still unaccustomed to hearing the new title spoken in front of his name.

  “Ah, yes,” Ulu added softly, studying the younger man’s face with concern. “Your promotions came after the destruction of the Ildirim in the last skirmish over Kimbo. I saw the reports. I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks,” Magnus muttered with a glance at Alasdair and Hayk’s tight expressions. “We all lost good friends on the Ildirim.”

  “And what happened to Captain Gunnarsen of your ship?”

  “Asta was reassigned to the Loki, the new ship that was pulled out of production early back home on Tarsus. The three of us were bumped up a rank on the Zephyr.”

  “Then your crew is still in good hands,” Ulu declared warmly as a slender aide in a business suit stepped up behind the councilor’s right shoulder.

  “Admiral Tungo will be here momentarily,” the woman interjected quietly, “and the Maian fleet contingent just landed.”

  “Eeeexcellent,” the Saharan leader preened with a broad grin, his sparkling eyes riveted on Magnus. “I put in a special request to Admiral Rimstrider for a particular Birdwing captain to be given the rotation for this meeting.”

  “Yuri’s coming?” Magnus blurted, his chiseled features brightening with excitement over the second surprise of the day.

  “Yes, indeed, and I hope I can steal the two of you away from your duties for a short visit after the meeting. I have something special to show you.”

  The Tarsian captain’s face fell, his steel blue eyes narrowing as he thought about the mountain of work still piling up in his office on board the Zephyr.

  “Yes, Councilor, he’d be delighted,” Alasdair threw out quickly in his soft Caledoni lilt, stepping up next to Magnus with a firm nudge on the back.

  “Please, take him,” Hayk chimed in to his right. “Keep him as long as you want.”

  Ulu threw back his head and laughed loudly, drawing the eyes of his entire gaggle of aides. Shifting his gaze to Alasdair and Hayk, he raised an eyebrow and nodded toward Magnus with a knowing grin. “I take it your captain has been, shall we say, more than a little intense with his new role?”

  “You could say that,” Hayk answered flatly. “Or you could say overbearing.”

  “Hard driving.”

  “Sleepless.”

  “Demanding.”

  “That’s enough, you guys,” Magnus growled through clenched teeth, glaring at his two closest friends. “Excuse me for wanting to keep your sorry hides alive when the beasts come out again.”

  Ulu smiled fondly and shook his head. “Ah, Magnus, some things never change.”

  The clatter of footfalls on the marble floor drew their attention down the hall to a
petite figure at the head of a host of decorated officers. Amara Tungo looked up from her conversation with a severe looking man beside her to nod a greeting to the high councilor and the Alcyoni officers before sweeping into the brightly-lit conference room.

  “Gentlemen, shall we?” With a courteous wave of his hand, Ulu ushered the off-world guests through the open door before proceeding with his party toward the end of the long banks of tables where Admiral Tungo had taken her seat at the head. The large room was bustling with representatives of the Meropean fleet as well as political leaders from the heavily populated world of Dashen and the smaller worlds of Masala, Bandu, and Ngama.

  As the Tarsian officers turned in the opposite direction to walk down the aisle behind the closest row of chairs, a uniformed Meropean officer fell into step beside Magnus. “Captain Talrésian?”

  “Um-hmm,” he acknowledged as the slight man handed him a small padded brown case.

  “These are the holo reports for Admiral Silésian and High Councilor van der Meer on Tarsus,” the officer informed him crisply.

  “Thank you. I’ll deliver them immediately.” Magnus slipped the case of crystalline points into the inside pocket of his jacket as the man nodded and disappeared into the crowd. Navigating around several groups of robed officials, the captain led his officers around the end of the tables and along the far aisle before halting in front of three empty chairs.

  “So how do you know Councilor Malawi?” Hayk asked as he took his seat, glancing down the room to where Ulu stood chatting with Admiral Tungo.

  Magnus sat down and tipped his chair back on two legs, running his hands through his long black hair. “His wife Desta is a professor of archeology at the university here in Pemba. When I was in high school, I spent my first summer over here working as an intern on one of her digs. That’s where I met Ulu and Yuri.”

  “He likes that stuff,” Alasdair threw in. “You’ve seen all that junk he has in their apartment. Mara’s always complaining that he’s got this collecting disease.”

  “It’s not junk, you cretin,” Magnus countered with a swipe at his wife’s twin. “I have some incredible artifacts from all over the Pleiadian cluster, even pieces from Taygeta and Sterope that made it out before the Drahks took over. Yuri gave me this really old vessel he got—” The captain broke off his thoughts and cocked his head to the side as his ears picked up an odd, familiar sound. “Speak of the devil.”

  From out in the corridor, the unmistakable clicks and whistles of the Tori bird people from Maia rose above the noise of the crowd as Yuri Stardancer and four other officers paraded into the conference room. The Tori captain’s white crested head and feathers stood out in sharp contrast to his black uniform and the bright neon colorings of his colleagues. His glassy dark eyes, surrounded by a tapered, iridescent blue band, landed immediately on Magnus and he uttered a soft trill of greeting.

  Magnus grinned and nodded, lacing his fingers behind his head as he watched his friend easily dominate the room with his charismatic presence.

  “I’m glad they’re on our side,” Alasdair murmured while the Maian party stalked down the aisle on the other side of the room and took up seats directly across from them.

  “Yeah, they’re wicked fighters,” Hayk remarked under his breath, “and just plain cool.”

  At the head of the table at the far end, Ulu raised his hands and waited until everyone was seated and the noise had settled. “Welcome, friends,” he announced, his rich voice rolling down the length of the long room. “I have the honor and privilege of joining your meeting today for the update on our difficult situation. I have only one thing to say. Every soul in Merope is thankful for each of you—,” he stated emphatically with a sweep of his hand around the table, “—our allies from Alcyone and Maia, and our own brave fleet—for risking your lives to defend our worlds.” A wave of clapping rolled through the room as Ulu nodded and turned to the small woman beside him with an outstretched hand. “Admiral Tungo, please.”

  The Saharan commander stood and glanced down the long banks of seated dignitaries and officers. “We’ll keep this short since we all have duties to attend to,” she declared briskly. “I’ll start with a brief summation of the last skirmish. Forty-one Saharan days ago a group of six Drahkian warship discs appeared out of thin air a short distance from Kimbo’s planetary portal escorting a group of eight large cargo vessels. The Pleiadian ships on duty outside Kimbo’s transport gate above the portal engaged them immediately. Two of the Drahkian cargo vessels were destroyed and one of the warships was damaged, but we lost the Ildirim from Tarsus before the Drahkian party disappeared through the portal with access codes from the ground.”

  The room buzzed with the low hum of troubled voices. “Our deepest sympathies, gentlemen,” the admiral added with a tip of her head toward the Tarsian officers. Magnus crossed his arms and nodded curtly in acknowledgment. It wasn’t the first ship and crew to be incinerated in the conflict with the Empire and he knew with sick certainty that it was far from the last.

  The admiral cleared her throat before she went on. “With the addition of those four warships, we put the total count of the invading fleet at thirty-six, each with twice the fire power of any of our ships and the capacity to carry transport vessels for saur beasts, cargo carriers, and dozens of heavy fighters.”

  “What’s the count in the combined Pleiadian fleet?” one of the robed officials inquired to the admiral’s left.

  “We currently stand at one hundred twenty-six vessels—forty Meropean ships, fifty-four Maian Birdwings, and thirty-two of the larger Alcyone vessels with the addition of the Loki. Our plants on Sahara and Dashen are scrambling to finish five new ships, but they’re still a few weeks away from launch. Captain Stardancer, can you give us an update on Maian ship production?”

  “Two on Quetzal and two more on Turaco are almost finished,” Yuri reported in commonly used Mothertongue. “The new crews are trained and waiting impatiently to get into the air to join the fight here in Merope and in the Altairan system.”

  “Your fleet is still sending aid to the Altairans?”

  “Yes, my wing just got back from Keiko where we kept the Drahks from breaking the primary portal for the third time. All our wings are on alert to transport through the Maian gates wherever we’re needed at a moment’s notice.”

  Amara nodded thoughtfully before turning her attention to Magnus. “Captain Talrésian, what’s the status on production in Alcyone?”

  “On Tarsus with the launch of the Loki, our plant on Andara has just begun work on a new ship,” he called out clearly. “A second plant up in the northern continent of Caledon has another ship in progress. The facilities out on Niemi and our twin worlds of Chi and Ki each have new vessels nearly ready for launch.”

  “Excellent.” The admiral blinked and nodded, her mouth twisting to the side with a calculating expression. While he still had the floor, Magnus threw another question out to the admiral. “Has our crystal master on loan from Ubad been any help with solving the problem of the reset portal locks?”

  Amara pursed her lips in chagrin. “Adi Batur is a brilliant man and an inspiration to our own engineers, but their efforts have not been successful in reopening any of the three lost portals. They managed to repair two of the damaged portal stations in orbit over Chaka, but when they reconnected all twelve stations around the perimeter, it had no effect on the portal’s configuration. Whatever technology the Drahks use on the ground overrides anything we try to do.”

  “And we can’t fight them on the ground unless we can get back in through the portals, correct Admiral?” Ulu asked to her right.

  “Unfortunately, that’s the way it stands, Councilor. The planetary gridlines that converge within the portals are controlled by our orbiting stations. The Drahks have some means of breaking through our locks and reweaving the portal threads to keep us out.”

  “Admiral, have there been any more attempts to destroy the transport gates outside the portals?” o
ne of the visiting dignitaries queried from the far end of the table.

  “No, thanks the stars,” Amara replied. “Since their bombardments to the ring over Gado didn’t have any impact, they seem to have abandoned the effort. Warships apparently have the means of navigating through stargates without using the old network of metallic gates like we do. We’re extremely fortunate the alloys used in the rings’ construction seem to be impervious to disruptor blasts.”

  “What’s next, Admiral?” a heavyset man in purple robes inquired nervously. “Chaka and Gado are outworld mining colonies. Kimbo is warm, but has few resources. The Drahks aren’t going to be content with those three small worlds.”

  “No, they’re not. We believe they’re using Kimbo as a base to raise more of the vicious saur beasts they use to control conquered populations. Their fleet is growing with every new convoy that makes it past us. We can expect an attack on any one of the five remaining worlds … at any moment.”

  The conference room erupted with a swell of distressed chatter. Magnus glanced around the long tables at the sea of frightened faces and exchanged a dour look with Alasdair.

  Yuri’s mellifluous voice pierced through the agitated commotion. “Has there been any contact from the invading warlord, Admiral Tungo?”

  Amara waited until the noise quieted down somewhat before attempting to speak. “No, not a word on any channel. We’ve tried time and time again to open a dialog, but we get nothing but static. What has your experience been while fighting the Drahks in other systems, Captain?”

  All eyes in the room turned to the Tori leader. “They tend to be arrogant bastards,” Yuri declared bluntly, “over-confident and sadistic. They speak Mothertongue when they want to, but since they’re a top-down culture, you won’t hear anything until the commanding warlord is ready to speak to you. Then it will be nothing but threats and gloating.”

  “Wonderful,” the admiral replied as fearful voices rose once again. “Alright,” she announced loudly. “Unless there is any other business to be discussed, we’ll break for today. Anyone? No? Stay alert, people. Thank you all for coming.”