Descent of the Maw

by Erin MacMichael

  “That was amazing!” his twin bubbled, squeezing him tightly.

  Minla lifted her face and kissed him, beaming with pride. “You’re amazing, Yeshe Vall.”

  Breaking into a broad smile, Kirian laughed as he looked around the sea of happy faces, hugging his wife and sister before letting out a loud groan. “By the Prime, you have nooooooo idea how relieved I am right now.”

  “Ohhh, yes we do,” Selina countered with a sideways grin. “You’ve been walking around in a black cloud for months since supplies started to dwindle. Everyone knows how worried you’ve been.”

  The tall man let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. “I guess I have been a little severe. I can’t help it. I love you all so much and it hurts to see you suffer.”

  “Kirian, come look at this!” The voice of one of the adepts at the back brought the heads of everyone in the group around at once. The man took a few steps across the platform and raised his hand, pointing downward at something he was looking at below.

  Kirian pulled away from Minla and Selina and led them through his team to the edge of the wind-swept ledge. In the wide valley spread between Tsari and the peaks across the way, lights from dozens of Ustagi villages sparkled across the undulating landscape.

  “What in the world? Why would those people do that?” Kirian mumbled under his breath. “I thought they’d all gone into hiding from the Drahks.”

  “They must have heard the bells, Kiri.” Minla’s soft declaration held a touch of sadness. “They lit the lamps to let us know they heard us.”

  Kirian swept his gaze across the glittering spectacle below, both surprised and humbled by this simple outpouring of respect for the Makhás. “I wonder if the other groups are seeing this as well.”

  Arman, Kalden, are the villagers lighting lamps below your towers?

  Yes, it’s breathtaking! I’ve never seen anything like it.

  They are here, too, Kirian. It’s been a long time since I felt such a connection with these people.

  As Kirian watched the sparkling lamps flicker in the night breeze, his sense of awe slipped away into a feeling of unease. If the villagers had heard the Cagi, then other ears had most likely picked up the thundering sounds coming down off the mountain. He shifted his eyes to the far end of the valley that spilled out onto the plateau just as the first dark discs appeared against the starlit sky.

  “Warships!” he barked as a cold chill made its way up his spine.

  They’re coming!! Everyone down to Rinzen, NOW!!

  Within seconds, the Makhás adepts vanished from the rocky platform, leaving the slopes of Tsari to the howl of the wind.

  The Zephyr shot through the transport ring right behind the Corum out into the space above Sahara’s primary portal. The immense tan planet rose in the holo above the bridge stations, hanging peacefully against an ocean of blackness while a second image below displayed a closer view of the several-mile wide portal area. Initial readings showed a portion of the Meropean fleet hovering above the space between the blinking stations and revealed that the immediate area just beyond the ring was blessedly devoid of warships—for the moment.

  “Rhona, follow the Corum away from the gate and hold position while the rest of the fleet comes through.”

  Magnus tensed as he watched, waiting the few brief seconds for the sensors to populate the holos with objects further afield around Sahara. His hands clutched the grips on his console in apprehensive worry while Ulu and Desta’s faces swam through his mind. He had feared this day would come since the nightmare in Merope began, but never dreamed it would be like this.

  The terrified call from headquarters in Pemba had come through moments ago with a frantic report that no one could quite fathom. Apparently an unknown moon had appeared out of nowhere several hours prior and taken up orbit near the closest of Sahara’s fourteen natural satellites. Repeated bombardments from the Meropean fleet had had absolutely no effect on the silent mass, leaving the entire planet’s population of billions in an uproar.

  The instant the readings flashed across the holo, Magnus shifted and refocused the planetary view outward, scanning for the anomaly that had brought them all running. “There, out beyond the secondary portal.”

  The light gray orb was larger than the natural moon a short distance away, relatively spherical, and covered with wide craters and pock marks. The Meropeans reported it had wobbled and was still vibrating after being hit with a multi-ton detonation, clear indications that the object was hollow and indeed some kind of manned station.

  A cold chill spread across Magnus’s skin as he came to the same dreaded conclusion as the petrified Saharan inhabitants below. Odd tales he had heard from Jindo and several others years ago came flooding back, fearful accounts of the “Emperor’s Moons” that he had discounted at the time as the exaggerations of superstitious storytellers. How wrong he had been.

  “Jindo, I hope you got out of Pemba before this,” he mumbled to himself. It was hard to believe it had only been four Tarsian days since he’d encountered the old trader in Krii before running off to Bandu. He was still reeling from losing Al and Hayk, and now he was faced with the real possibility of losing more people he cared about.

  “Warships!” Hurik snapped as a blanket of dark gray discs appeared en masse several miles outside the portal.

  “Rob, Ari, stay sharp,” Magnus charged. “The last Alcyoni ships are through and the Birdwings are just starting to come in. We may have company any minute.”

  As the golden vessels poured through the transport gate, Magnus kept his eyes pinned on the black cloud of warships, watching for any disappearances which could herald an attack. The Drahkian vessels remained stationary, hovering over the grid, silent and ominous against the brightly glowing planet below.

  “I don’t like this,” Miros brooded over the admirals’ channel on loudspeaker. “Tanamar, I think we’d better hold our forces close to the gate.”

  “Agreed. Looks like they’re waiting for something.”

  “Yeah, that’s what worries me. Amara, any contact?”

  “No. We started sending messages toward the moon on multiple frequencies the moment it got here with no response, even after we launched an attack.” The Meropean admiral’s voice shook with aggravation and unspoken angst. “We’ve detected encoded signals being sent on the same bands the Drahks use elsewhere, but they don’t seem interested in dealing with us. Nothing from Salaal yet, but— Oh my god!”

  The holo of Sahara flared as a bright beam shot out of the orbiting moon, piercing straight through the planetary grid to the surface below.

  “By the Prime, no,” Magnus groaned as the beam steadily seared a swath across the northern portion of the landmass just west of the secondary portal. The churning dust from the destruction on the surface could be seen rising through the atmosphere, forming an monstrous brown cloud over the continent and surrounding bodies of water. The beam to the surface ceased abruptly and the moon hung in suspended silence once again.

  “Vicious beasts!” Magnus exclaimed into the room full of shocked officers. The adrenaline shot through the roof in the face of such a ghastly show of force and the dire implications for all of them.

  The admirals’ channel buzzed with the shouting voices of Meropean officers in the grips of dealing with the crisis on the surface. “Hold on,” Amara declared before muting the channel. When her voice came back on, it was shaking with rage and disbelief. “Our satellite sensors indicate at least a third of the entire continent of Kontagora was just decimated and is now nothing but rolling sand. The capital of Embu is completely gone along with countless other cities. Millions of lives, totally obliterated.”

  “Amara, they’re trying to force capitulation,” Miros began.

  “I know!” she spat with trepidation. “But we have nothing that can stand up to that station. I’ve already sent the heaviest weapons we have out there and nothing phased it. Any ideas you can give me—shit, here comes the bastard now.”

 
A group of five dark warships had broken away from the hovering fleet and headed slowly toward the space above the portal, coming to a lazy halt safely out of firing range of the Meropean ships as well as the Alcyone and Maian forces collected outside the gate.

  The scratchy interference of an overriding broadcast cut across the Pleiadian channel. “I will not tolerate further resistance, humans!” Salaal’s gritty voice announced. “Put the leader of Sahara on this frequency to hear my demands.”

  Magnus scrambled to capture the entire relay from the Drahkian warlord and opened the holographic image of the scowling reptile in the space above the view of Sahara. A heartbeat later, Ulu’s voice broke into the channel.

  “This is Ulu Malawi, leader of the high council.”

  The Drahk stood with his hands on his hips and an arrogant sneer on his face. “You will order your fleet to stand down, Ulu Malawi, and surrender the portals of Sahara and Dashen without further battle.”

  “I am prepared to negotiate on behalf of Sahara, but I cannot speak for the leaders of Dashen.”

  “No negotiation!” Salaal thundered. “I have given you a taste of Emperor Izar’s destroyer. You will yield to me or there will be further destruction. Is that clear?”

  “Abundantly clear.”

  “I will give you one hour to issue orders before I contact you for an answer. If you refuse, I will destroy Sahara. If Dashen refuses, they will suffer the same punishment.” Before Ulu could make any kind of response, the warlord turned his head and barked something in Drahkian to terminate the transmission. The five charcoal vessels disappeared from sight, reappearing once again at the forefront of the warship cloud.

  Amara Tungo’s strained voice came on again over the com. “By the Prime, the high council has ordered us to leave! They told me a large number of ships loaded with people are on their way up and dozens of off-worlders need to get out. They’re going to lift through the locks all at once and then we’ve got to help them make it to the gate. Our ships over the other portal will do the same.”

  “Understood, Amara,” Miros replied gravely. “We’ll help you cover them on this end.”

  Magnus swallowed hard against the anguish tightening his throat and chest. He knew his hands were shaking, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He was surprised when a gentle hand gripped his wrist and he looked over into Hurik’s light hazel eyes, watching him with grim understanding.

  He jumped when his headset beeped with an incoming transmission on a private channel and he quickly opened the call on one of his screens to find Ulu’s haggard face looking up at him from a room full of shouting, frantic people.

  “By the Prime, Ulu, you’re going to surrender?”

  “We have no choice, Magnus. Billions more will die if we do not.” The councilor turned his head sharply as someone beside him asked an urgent question, drawing his attention away before he turned back to Magnus with anxious eyes.

  “There is little time and I must ask something of you, my friend. Obi is on one of the ships headed for Tarsus. He may despise me for sending him away, but I just can’t let him face—” he said raggedly, blinking against a welling of unshed tears. “Please take care of my son, Azizi.”

  “Ulu—”

  “Please!”

  “Oh god, Ulu. Yes, I’ll find him,” Magnus answered brokenly as tears rolled down his cheeks. “You have my word.”

  The councilor nodded, his features twisting with misery. “Desta will be relieved. Give Yuri our love.”

  “I will.”

  “Goodbye, Azizi.”

  The signal snapped off and Magnus covered his eyes with his hand, letting the tears fall while he sucked in a shuddering breath to pull himself through the wave of suffocating grief.

  “Twenty-two ships have lifted out of the secondary portal,” Hurik reported beside him. Magnus raised his gaze to the holo display showing the fleeing vessels on the far side of the planet. The Meropean starships holding positions over the portal zone clustered around the smaller vessels as they sped upward toward the transport ring.

  Without warning, the orbiting moon emitted a series of short bursts, exploding half of the orbiting portal stations as well as the transport ring before turning on the scattering Meropean ships. Within seconds, there was nothing but flying debris over the entire area.

  “My god, they killed them all!” Rhona screeched as the officers watched the holo with stricken expressions.

  Magnus shook his head in appalled disbelief and a mounting sense of dread. “That thing can destroy the rings. We’ve got a big problem here.”

  “Forty-eight ships just came up out of the portal below!” Hurik yelled while Magnus expanded the holo to full view, frantically scanning the images of the starships, transports, and trade vessels. To his horror, he saw Jindo’s tiny, battered ship rising slowly near the edge of the scrambling group.

  “Damn it, Jindo,” he swore in panicked frustration.

  Amara Tungo’s voice cracked over the open channel. “Miros, Tanamar—get your ships out before that moon shifts over here! We’ll cover these folks the best we can—just get out! If I don’t make it—thank you, all of you!”

  “We’re not leaving you!” Miros shouted as the first group of warships transported in from the disbursing cloud and opened fire. “Tanamar, are you with me?”

  “Absolutely. Birdwings!” The Maian admiral trilled a high sequence and muted his mic, leading the fleet of golden vessels away from the gate to shoot down into the fray of swarming warships.

  “Let’s help those people!” Miros yelled. “Chi’an, Niemian captains, spread yourselves out around the gate. The rest of you, follow me!” The Corum peeled away toward the flock of rising ships with several Tarsian vessels tailing close behind.

  “Rhona, take us down toward the far side where they’re getting hit the hardest. Tactical, be ready to fire.”

  As the Zephyr bolted into motion, Magnus focused on Jindo’s ship at the back of the group with several other small trade vessels. The larger transport ships in the middle of the cloud rose swiftly while the Meropean starships circled and followed up underneath, firing on the streaking groups of warships intent on incinerating all of them. Birdwing formations and the Corum’s party darted around the perimeter, showering the dark discs with blitzes of fire whenever they appeared.

  “Head for those small trade vessels, Rhona,” Magnus directed. “They’re lagging behind and the Meropean ships are all taking fire.”

  “I’m on it!” Rhona called out, pulling the Zephyr into a course speeding toward the small group of struggling ships.

  “Hold on, old man,” Magnus muttered, keeping his eyes pinned on the tiny image of Jindo’s ship.

  “Incoming!” Hurik cried. “Three warships off starboard heading straight for us!”

  “Rob, Ari—give them everything we’ve got!”

  The ship rocked under several blasts from Drahkian disruptors and the firing of its own cannons. Magnus’s viewscreens blazed with light from the deflected beams as the warships passed overhead and veered in front of them before disappearing.

  “Rhona!”

  “We’re almost there!”

  The warships reappeared directly over the four trade vessels, spritzing the small ships with short bursts of fire before pulling around in a tight turn to come at them again.

  “No!” Magnus shrieked, watching helplessly as Jindo’s ship and one other vessel ruptured and flew apart. “Damn it! I can’t seem to save anybody!” he swore in anguish, impatiently brushing tears away to keep his vision from clouding.

  “We can still save those other two that didn’t blow,” Hurik stated crisply, grabbing his arm in firm reassurance. Magnus nodded briskly, his eyes glued to the forward screen as Rhona brought the Zephyr zooming over the two surviving ships a split second before the warships were on them.

  “Rob! Ari! Hit those fuckers!”

  The cannons thundered again with full blasts up into the huge dark discs. Magnus held o
nto his console as the Zephyr shook from the impact of Drahkian beams.

  Abruptly the shaking stopped and the vibrations from the last aft cannon shots rippled through the ship’s frame.

  “They disappeared,” Ari exclaimed just as the Jutsu, Senshi, and Myōjō flew in overhead.

  Magnus’s headset beeped with an incoming relay from the Jutsu and Mitsu’s voice came on over the link. “What the hell are you doing out here by yourself, big man? Your ship’s not even fully repaired.”

  “Failing to save two trade vessels,” he answered grimly.

  “And rescuing two others,” Ando piped in. “Come on around and let’s get out of here. We’ve got your ass, Talrésian.”

  “Thanks, I owe you.”

  “We’ll remind you later,” Ando replied as the three Ki’an vessels swung in a tight arc to head back toward the transport ring.

  “Rhona, get us to the gate!”

  As the Zephyr pulled up sharply and sped upward away from the portal, Magnus shifted his gaze back to the holo of the column of ships racing for the metallic construct shimmering in Merope’s bright light. Sparks from weapon fire between Pleiadian starships and Drahkian discs littered the field on all sides and beneath the group of smaller fleeing vessels. A glance at the planetary holo showed him that the Drahkian moon was still hanging in the same position, but there was no telling whether its beams could reach them or if it would shift again across space to turn them all into dust.

  “The first transports are through!” Hurik blared. “The Chi’ans and Niemians are holding the Drahks off. The ships are pouring quickly into the gate!”

  Obi was on one of those ships, Magnus thought with pangs of sadness and relief, knowing Ulu must be watching the same scene with the same feelings from some screen below. His chest constricted at the gruesome image of what his old friends would be facing in just a short time when Salaal hit the ground, especially since Ulu was a key official in the Meropean government. He knew with heartbreaking certainty that once he was through that ring, he would probably never find out what happened to them.