Sword of Blue (Tales of a Dying Star Book 3)

by David Kristoph

  Contents

  Other Works

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Part I: The Steadfast

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Part II: The Admiral

  The Olitau

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Part III: The Rookie

  Latean Base

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  About the Author

  Sneak Peek

  BOOKS BY

  DAVID KRISTOPH

  Tales of a Dying Star

  Siege of Praetar

  The Ancillary

  Sword of Blue

  Drowned by Fire

  The Books of Bathyly

  Pillars of Wrath

  Copyright © 2015 David Kristoph

  www.DavidKristoph.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without prior consent of the author.

  Cover design by Milan Jaram

  Editing by Briana Kirby

  Illustrations by SpireKat (spirekat.deviantart.com)

  Illustrations by www.MichaelKPurdue.com

  Enjoyed this book? Please take the time to leave a review on Amazon.

  To my grandmother Virginia

  Who always threatened to jerk a knot in my tail

  But never did

  Part I: The Steadfast

  Chapter 1

  The Melisao rain fell in sheets, running down Charlie's neck and pooling at the spot where the bomb touched his skin, concealed beneath his uniform.

  The Pilot Academy loomed before him, wide at the base before rising into a tall, thin tower. The droplets stung his eyes as he gazed upward. Other buildings stood in the haze all around him, apartments and offices and even the tall Chain that disappeared high into the clouds, but Charlie's eyes fixed on the Academy.

  He took a deep breath and walked through the doors as if it were a normal day.

  The other Academy students hardly looked at him as they rushed through the entrance hall. They didn't know. How could they? But Charlie felt every glance, every gaze that skimmed over him in the crowded hall. He shed his long coat and stuffed it in a wastebin; there was no use dropping it off at his classroom, and the bomb was thin and perfectly invisible under his white uniform. He knew because he'd spent the entirety of the morning examining himself in the mirror, taking care that nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Still, without the coat he felt suddenly exposed. Charlie was a worrier, and a moment like this was the precise time to worry.

  Classrooms lined the hallway on either side, the instructors and students visible through transparent walls. Cameras clicked and whirred in the ceiling as they zoomed and focused on each passing face. The Emperor abhorred secrecy, both on Melis and abroad. These students were the future pilots of the Fleet, and yet even they were recorded. We should be trusted and nurtured, Charlie remembered Onero saying, not observed like animals in a cage.

  Charlie repeated it in his head, a reminder of his purpose.

  That, along with the image of Katy's face, pushed him forward. He was hyper-aware of his movements; his steps felt mechanical and unnatural, like an electroid attempting to walk smoothly. He was certain everyone was watching, aware of his intentions.

  The crowd in the hall began to thin as students shuffled into classrooms. Charlie could see through the crowd to the end of the hall, where the lifts led to the higher floors. He was almost there. He was doing it.

  "Where are you going, Charlie?" came a voice to his left, stinging like a whip.

  Charlie's first impulse was to run. Instead his feet froze, his upper half turning to face Instructor Karrana. She stood with crossed arms outside her classroom door. Charlie's classroom. "There's a presentation on level forty-five," he said. "I'm going to that."

  Karrana's eyebrows lowered. "I know of the Gold Wing presentation, Charlie. Half my students are going. But you weren't on the list."

  "I... I'm supposed to be on the list. I'm sure of it."

  "Are you now?" she said. Her gaze pierced him, saw through him. She knew. She had to know. He was certain of it.

  Charlie's mouth was suddenly dry, at odds with his damp exterior. This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't part of the plan. He licked his lips, urging moisture into his mouth. She doesn't believe you. Think of something else.

  "I'll double-check with your mother," Karrana said, "but if you're lying I'll make sure you spend the rest of the day degreasing the test ships." She withdrew to the classroom, where a computer was mounted on the front wall.

  Her threat sent a shiver up his back. Charlie wasn't old enough to pilot a ship yet, but he'd spent plenty of time cleaning them as punishment. The grease smell would remain in his fingers for days. That won't matter, if I can just get up to the presentation.

  The students inside the classroom knew something was wrong. They sat in their neat rows of desks, alternating glances between the instructor and Charlie. A few of them laughed. Karrana spoke to the computer, her voice muffled by the din in the hallway. She glanced sideways at Charlie.

  I can run, he thought. I should run. There was no point in standing there, waiting to be punished by an instructor who would soon know he was lying. Would Karrana chase him, or call the Academy security? He might make it to the presentation in time to do the deed. He willed himself to move, to leave while he still had time.

  His feet remained planted to the floor. What little courage he'd mustered was already draining away.

  Karrana tapped the computer and turned back to him, her conversation over. It was too late to run now.

  She smirked as she approached, crossing her arms again in that way Instructors did. "Hurry up or you'll be late," she said. She gave a smokey smile. "Enjoy Commander Jayce's presentation--I'd go myself, if I could. And tell your mother to send in the approval earlier, next time."

  Charlie stared, uncomprehending. Was she toying with him? She was still looking at him, waiting for a response. "I, uhh..."

  "Is something wrong?" she asked. Her smirk disappeared and she tilted her head in concern.

  "No, uhh, thank you," he mumbled before leaving. He waited for her voice to call him back, but he returned to the flow of students unmolested. He felt her eyes on his back all the way down the hall. Mother didn't know about the presentation, he thought. Surely this was all some trick.

  The lifts were at the end of the hall, a row of clear tubes that disappeared into the ceiling far above. Charlie stopped when he was fifty feet away. Peacekeepers stood beside each lift entrance, watching the students shuffle inside.

  That wasn't normal. There were never guards at the elevators.

  I should abort the mission, he thought. His mind latched onto the thought, eager for an excuse. Onero hadn't accounted for guards. It wasn't part of the plan, and anything abnormal should be considered before proceeding. He should leave, return to Onero tomorrow, and do the mission another day.

  But there might not be a next time. The Children had never trusted Charlie before. This was his chance. His chance to prove he was devout in his belief, confident in their cause. If he gave up now Onero would never give him another mission.

  He pictured Katy's face. She'd smiled proudly at him when he was given the mission, when he accepted so eagerly. She would know he was a coward
if he quit now.

  Charlie kept his distance, watching the guards. A group of students crowded in front of the lift door, waited for the capsule to arrive, and went inside. The guards only watched. Charlie observed two more lifts come and go to confirm: the guards weren't searching anybody.

  He waited for more students to appear before stepping forward to join them. He slid between two girls in the middle of the group as they approached one of the lift doors. He absorbed the guard's stare, searching every face. Charlie stared straight ahead, trying to appear bored. Relax your jaw, he thought, they'll know if you're tense. He let his arms dangle at his sides, yawning with boredom, but nothing felt normal to Charlie. Everything felt artificial. He was sure the guards would pick him out, notice his behavior and take him away.

  It seemed to take hours, but eventually the lift capsule appeared above them, sliding into place with a soft whoosh. The doors opened and everyone stepped inside. The guard remained still.

  One student exited on level six--the cafeteria--but the rest were traveling to the presentation. The girls next to Charlie whispered excitedly; his ears perked up when he heard the name Commander Jayce, the lead pilot in the Gold Wing. One of the girls blushed.

  Charlie stared straight ahead through the transparent doors, watching the levels zoom by.

  Level forty-five looked like any other, with soft rubber-like floors and wide hallways, except the walls were opaque instead of clear, and decorated with the portraits of military leaders. Charlie let the crowd move him along, down one hall, turning at a corridor. They drew close, he thought, because the crowd grew thicker, slowing down.

  They rounded another corner and Charlie saw the auditorium entrance, tall double-doors opened wide. More guards stood on either side of the doorway, watching the students shuffle past. Charlie wanted to stop, to stand to the side and make sure everything was fine before entering, but the crowd was pressed tight around him. As he was carried forward he saw the guards were uncaring, staring straight ahead without glancing at the students.

  The auditorium was larger than he expected, the ceiling so high that it must have occupied three levels. The floor had a slight tilt to it, sloping downward to a raised stage where a metallic podium stood alone. Behind the stage a clear window showed a view of the cloud-veiled city. Through the rain the Chain could be seen in the distance, rising to the sky like a thick, metal tree. The umbilical cord through which men and materials could safely and efficiently travel into space.

  Chairs filled the space leading to the stage, dozens of rows filled with students of all ages. There was the soft murmur of children's voices. The first twenty rows were already full. I would have gotten here sooner if not for Instructor Karrana, Charlie thought. He needed to be close.

  The crowd was pushing forward to get the best seats possible. Charlie slid away from them and sat in a chair in the back row, on the aisle. Instructors occupied this row, quietly talking to one-another or examining their portable wrist-computers. The adult next to Charlie, a man with a wrinkled face and grey hair, looked at him but said nothing.

  I'll wait until the presentation begins, he thought. Then he could walk down the aisle, getting as close as possible while pretending to look for a closer spot. He felt satisfied at improvising so quickly. Maybe I can do this.

  The stream of people eventually drew to a trickle as the auditorium filled. A hushed silence fell over the crowd as a door to the side of the stage opened.

  A dozen guards marched into the room. They filed off to their respective places: two stopped next to the doorway, six more lined the floor below the stage, four more stood along the opposite wall. These guards were alert, more anxious than the ones Charlie had passed. They stood very still but their eyes scanned the room, darting in every direction.

  Charlie leaned forward to keep the explosives from touching the seat back. This was normal security, he told himself. He knew they'd be here. It was part of the plan. He only needed to be within thirty feet of the stage. He could get that close before the guards realized what he was doing.

  A pilot appeared at the stage door. Commander Jayce was no older than thirty years, with a hardened face and searching eyes. His black pilot's uniform accentuated a muscled frame: wide at the shoulders but thin around the waist, and crisp along the sleeves and legs. His black hair shocked Charlie: it fell to his shoulders, far longer than the Academy's hygiene rules allowed. The most skilled pilot in the Empire strode to the podium with confident purpose, the rows of medals tapping against his chest. He looked every bit the hero, strong and dangerous.

  The soldiers that followed him were different.

  The first man through the door limped on mechanical legs, the parts beneath the thighs stiff and metallic. The next lacked even that; his torso ended at the waist, and he hummed across the stage in a mechanized chair. The third had no left arm, the fourth was a woman with facial burns, the fifth was missing both arms.

  The room's silence changed from excitement to shock. The students were expecting to see heroes, not a parade of the injured.

  Jayce smiled down at the students as the wounded soldiers filled the seats behind the podium. When they were all seated he spoke with a deep voice that echoed through the tall room.

  "Good morning, students of the Luccar Pilot Academy. My name is Jayce, and I am the Commander of the Gold Wing. Thank you for allowing me to speak to you today."

  Charlie wet his lips. He knew there might be more targets than just Jayce, but he didn't expect this. These pilots were pitiful, harmless in their various states of incapacitation. Jayce spoke with pride; these men all bore shame, embarrassment, as if their injuries were a failure. Be strong, he heard Katy's voice. Quell all doubts that surface along the way.

  "I was once like you," Jayce was saying, "a young recruit at the Academy. It wasn't that long ago. I even see some of my old instructors in the audience." He waved.

  Thunder from the storm boomed outside, shaking the Academy tower. Charlie barely heard it over the sound of his beating heart. Dread filled him. He was supposed to do it a few minutes into the speech, when the guards had relaxed. But his legs were stuck to the ground like lead.

  "I didn't take my studies seriously. Not at first, anyways. Sure I finished at the top of the class, but for the first two years I didn't care. I focused on games. On girls." He flashed a charming smile. A few female students giggled. "I did the minimum required to advance, because I didn't understand the need to work hard."

  The Commander's comment jogged Charlie's memory. He thought of her, smiling and proud as he received the explosives. Katy had never looked at him that way before. He wanted her to always remember him that way. If he gave up now he'd be remembered as a coward.

  "These men and women behind me worked hard," Jayce said. "They trained and practiced every moment of every day for years. And in the end they paid a terrible price. They deserve your adoration more than I."

  Jayce turned to the pilots behind him and began applauding. The students joined him, until the entire room was clapping. One of the men on stage, the one missing his arm, stood and bowed. The rest all looked uncomfortable.

  Each row of the audience stood to applaud the men. As Charlie's row stood he felt his courage renewed. He stepped into the aisle and began walking toward the stage.

  Everyone's attention was too focused on the stage to notice him. Even the guards had turned around to show support for the soldiers. This is how it's supposed to go, he thought. I can do this.

  He continued clapping as he walked down the aisle. The pilot with the burned face met his eyes, but nobody else noticed Charlie's approach. The woman's mouth curled in a permanent snarl. She was missing half her hair, and the skin along her scalp glistened pink and new.

  Charlie reached into his pocket. The trigger was a small cylinder with a button on one end, recessed so it could not be activated accidentally. It fit easily in his palm. All he needed was to depress the trigger for three seconds.

  He was fifty fe
et from the stage. The applause settled down, the guards returned to attention. The guard directly in front of Charlie saw him. He tilted his head in confusion.

  Charlie's feet continued moving forward, but he looked away to keep his nerve intact. The students were all sitting back down. A few looked over at him as he passed. His heartbeat pulsed in his ears.

  Thirty feet. Almost there. The guard stepped forward.

  Charlie looked out over the crowd, pretending to look for a seat. Just a few more seconds. His thumb pressed down on the trigger. He held his breath.

  He saw her, then. She stood in a doorway at the side of the auditorium, watching.

  Katy.

  She wore the brown uniform of a civilian worker, a single piece of clothing that covered her from ankle to wrist to neck. Gold hair framed her face. She was beautiful. She would have been beautiful in any clothing, no matter how plain and unflattering.

  He stopped, mouth hanging open. What was she doing there? Had she come to watch, to see if he could go through with it? None of the others were supposed to be there. That was the plan. They were only supposed to come if--

  Slightly, barely discernible, Katy shook her head.

  Abort.

  She was there to abort the mission. That was the signal.

  Charlie let go of the trigger.

  The room was silent. Everyone looked at him, wondering why he stood there in the middle of the aisle. Out of the corner of his eye Charlie could see the guard walking toward him.

  Charlie didn't know what to do. Katy's signal was clear: abort the mission. The guard was close, holding his rifle more alertly, ready to take aim if he sensed Charlie was a threat.

  I can still do it. He could continue with the plan, detonating himself at the stage, killing the soldiers. Killing the Emperor's precious hero on the eve of the Exodus Fleet's departure. Katy would think he missed the signal. She would remember him courageously.