Omega Force 5: Return of the Archon

by Joshua Dalzelle

  “Confirmed, Captain,” Kage said. “I’ve detected their drive coming up to full power as they’re attempting to turn and pursue. Looks like their stealth tech is imperfect at best and they’re flying an underpowered drive.”

  “All good things,” Jason said, threading the gunship through the traffic as she continued to accelerate. He wanted to get around to the other side of the station before their pursuers. Even though it was difficult, it was possible to track a ship through slip-space depending on the level of technology and the skill of the crew. He’d rather not find out the hard way they had both. “Program a series of short dummy jumps,” he ordered. “We’ll drop tachyon charges at each.”

  “How many?” Kage asked, his hands flying over his navigation panel.

  “Five.”

  “That’s going to be expensive,” Kage muttered.

  “Sure will be,” Jason agreed as the Phoenix shot over the “crown” of Colton Hub and through the traffic around the docking arms. A few plasma shots were fired their direction, one even splashing against the shields, as they streaked by. Jason chuckled and shook his head. The universal constant about the galaxy’s bottom feeders: if you don’t understand it, shoot at it.

  “We’re clear,” Doc reported, “you can engage the slip-drive any time.”

  “We’ve shaken them, but not for long,” Kage said. “They’ve dropped their stealth while they’re navigating through traffic. When we passed, it spooked everyone and ships are flying out in all directions.”

  “Engaging now,” Jason said, squeezing the trigger to release the first tachyon charge before smacking the control to send them streaking out of the system. As the coronal discharge of dissipating slip energies faded away, the first tachyon charge triggered, flooding the area with tachyon particles and blinding anyone’s sensors who may have been trying to track the gunship’s exit.

  *****

  “So,” Jason said as he carried his mug of chroot back to the galley table, “do we think it was a random coincidence that a sensor-stealthed ship was tailing us away from Colton Hub?”

  “Of course not,” Twingo snorted. “But who were they following? Them, or us?”

  “That’s the million credit question,” Jason agreed. “So … were you followed to Colton Hub? And if so, how did they know which ship you boarded to leave?”

  “We were not tracked,” Connimon said. When she offered nothing more, Jason let out an exasperated breath.

  “This will go much quicker if you would volunteer information and maybe even go so far as to say why you were there, why you were looking for Crusher, and why you’re on my ship.”

  “My apologies, Captain,” she said, nodding to him in a sort of half-bow. “I certainly do not mean to be vague, but when I tell you what we’ve been through you may forgive me for not immediately volunteering information to beings I’ve only just met.”

  “By all means,” Jason said sardonically, taking a seat. “Proceed.” While Connimon’s manner was exquisitely courteous and even a bit deferential, he didn’t trust her, and Crusher’s immediate reaction to seeing her was decidedly not a happy one. In fact, his friend was still standing somewhat apart from the group, glowering at their passengers. If Connimon was offended by Jason’s tone, she did not let on as she began her story.

  “I can surmise that we were not tracked to Colton Hub because we’ve been there for over seven months,” she said, pausing at the looks coming at her across the table.

  “You spent seven months on that death trap,” Kage said. “Why?”

  “We were waiting on you,” she said simply. “We’d been attempting to track your movements, but that proved impossible as you were far too elusive. In our investigation, we learned that Colton Hub was one of the places you would frequent more than once or twice a year. So, as unpleasant as it was, we made arrangements to stay there until you arrived. In all that time we were never followed or paid any undue attention. Given that, I must conclude that the ship we recently escaped from was tracking you for its own reasons.”

  “Tracking is certainly the correct term,” Jason said. “It was dumb luck we saw them at all. For all we know, they could have been following us all the way from Aracoria.” As soon as he said it, the rest of the crew tensed up.

  “Are you suggesting ConFed Intel has renewed its interest in us?” Doc asked tensely.

  “I’m suggesting nothing,” Jason said quickly. “Let’s just stick to what we know for now. Connimon, please continue.”

  “We were first made aware of your arrival when you, Felex, and Lucky were walking through the galleria. Mazer lost track of you when you split up and we were unable to reacquire you until the three of you entered the establishment on the upper level.

  “Even then we were unsure if the gelten on your crew was truly Felex. We had only rumors and eye-witness accounts to go on. Even when we saw him there was some doubt. Years apart from us have changed him some. It was then that we approached your table.”

  “Who is Felex?” Doc asked, raising his hand as he did so.

  “Ah, shit. I forgot to tell you—” Jason began before Morakar cut him off.

  “The warrior you call Crusher is in truth Lord Felex Tezakar, the Guardian Archon of Galvetor,” he said in a hushed but intense voice. He was staring at Crusher as he spoke. Doc’s mouth dropped open and he also turned to look at Crusher.

  “I take it you recognize the name?” Jason asked.

  “I remember the rumors when Felex disappeared,” Doc said, somewhat awed. “But Galvetor is so closed off that nothing had ever been confirmed. I can’t believe I never put it together.”

  “How is it you know so much about our internal politics?” Connimon asked.

  “I’m a geneticist,” Doc answered, pulling his eyes away from Crusher, who had remained brooding and silent, to face her. “Early in my career I was given permission to visit Galvetor to study the warrior caste of your people. What you’ve been able to do with such archaic methods is nothing short of miraculous. No offense intended.”

  “No offense is taken,” she said with a slightly indulgent smile. “Our way is not as fast as your gene splicing and DNA manipulation, but our results speak for themselves. Galvetic warriors are the most feared fighters throughout the known worlds.” Lucky, who had been resting a hand on the table, began ticking his index finger loudly against the composite surface.

  “We are aware of your kind, battlesynth, but we do not subscribe to the theory that a warrior can be manufactured,” Connimon said.

  “Perhaps a demonstration some time,” Lucky said politely. “When you have more warriors available, that is.” He looked pointedly at the Reddix brothers after his last comment, causing Jason to hide a smile behind his hand and the two warriors to look at each other with apprehension. Being so openly challenged was apparently something they were unaccustomed to.

  “Let’s try and stay focused,” Jason said. “You’ve explained how you found us, sort of, but not why. Staying on that shithole station for over half a year … it’s got to be something important.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Connimon said quietly, “it is quite important. Your people need you, Felex. Galvetor is on the brink of civil war and the warrior caste is no longer willing to stay neutral. Your return would—”

  “There will be no going back for me,” Crusher snarled, coming forward so quickly that Mazer and Morakar braced themselves. “I was banished from my home! Sent away like some beggar only to be captured, sold into slavery, and almost killed! I was told then that the only way to save my people was to accept disgrace and never come back!” His voice had risen to a deafening roar and Jason was becoming seriously concerned. He was about to signal to Lucky to be ready, but Crusher wasn’t finished.

  “Now you tell me to save them I must return? I have no people! I’m a renegade, damned to wander the galaxy with no home. You’ve wasted your time, Caretaker,” Crusher thundered. “There is nothing here for you!” As his last words left his mouth, he swun
g his massive fist down in a savage overhead strike into the table right between where Jason and Kage were sitting. Predictably, the table exploded into shards of hard composite, and drinking glasses went flying. Ignoring the blood flowing from the wound the sharp edges of the broken table had caused, Crusher stormed out of the galley towards the armory, snarling a challenge at the other two warriors as he did so.

  Twingo and Doc had wide-eyed, startled expressions as they looked at each other. Kage’s face, on the other hand, was frozen into a visage of absolute terror.

  “Captain,” Twingo said in a cracking voice. “Shouldn’t you check on Kage? He looks like he’s locked up.”

  “In a moment,” Jason said calmly. “I’m currently trying to keep from pissing myself.”

  Chapter 7

  After Crusher broke the galley table in half, Jason had the other geltens confined in starboard berthing while he tried to regain control of the situation, if he ever even had it in the first place. It had taken them a moment to get Kage sorted out, and then Jason ordered the others up to the bridge to keep them busy while Lucky stayed on the main deck to head off any potential issues with their unwanted guests.

  He was currently in a heated discussion with Lucky. Heated on his part, of course. Lucky remained predictably stoic.

  “Why should I go in there? You’re his closest friend.”

  “And you are his captain,” Lucky countered. “He will want to know that you are still backing him up.”

  “That goes without saying,” Jason said with a dismissive wave.

  “But he may not realize that,” Lucky pressed. “That was an uncharacteristically violent display of emotion from Crusher. He will want your assurances.”

  “Great,” Jason grumbled. “If you hear a loud, girlish scream that is suddenly cut short, don’t bother running in. Just come and get what’s left of me and toss the remains out an airlock.”

  “Of course, Captain,” Lucky said agreeably, drawing an irritated glare from Jason.

  He stepped lightly from the main deck down to the port engineering bay and around where he could get eyes on the armory door. It was closed, but unlocked. Taking a deep breath, he walked up and keyed the door open, unsure what would greet him.

  It was rather anticlimactic. Crusher was on his knees in a sitting position, his hands resting lightly on his thighs, eyes closed, and his shoulders rose and fell with his slow, steady breathing. Jason recognized this as a kind of meditative position the big warrior would go into if he wanted to calm himself or simply slow his bodily functions down after a workout. He’d also seen him do this prior to combat, however, so this was either an attempt to stay calm or it was simply a precursor to a horrifically violent confrontation.

  “Hello, Captain,” Crusher said, his voice soft and steady.

  “Hey,” Jason said, sitting on one of the benches. “So, that was some display back there.”

  “I apologize for the table,” Crusher said, still not opening his eyes. “I will pay for it out of my personal account.”

  “I’m not concerned about the table,” Jason said. “My only concern is that you’re okay. You’re usually more in control than that.”

  “Did you come here to get my side?” Crusher asked. “I assume you’ve already talked to the Caretaker.”

  “I did not. I confined them to berthing after you left the galley,” Jason said, beginning to relax now that it appeared Crusher was completely in control of himself again. “Honestly, I don’t care about their side. And I’m not here to pump you for information either. I’m interested, of course, but if you choose not to share that’s your business. I’ve trusted you with my life since we started all this together and that hasn’t changed. You give me the word and we’ll drop those three off on the nearest habitable rock and be done with the entire thing.”

  Crusher’s eyes opened slowly and he stared at Jason a moment before speaking.

  “Thank you, Captain,” he said finally. He rose in one fluid motion and sat on a bench opposite from Jason. “The situation won’t be resolved that simply, I’m afraid. I’ll need to hear the details, of course, but Galvetor has been on the brink of a civil war for some time. If it’s over the usual argument, I’d imagine one side or another has gained some sort of advantage that makes them think they can break the stalemate.”

  “Civil war over what?” Jason asked. “Isn’t Galvetor intentionally isolated?”

  “Which brings us to the source of the conflict,” Crusher said. “There is a small but vocal group that feels it’s time we begin to exert our influence. Their movement is growing and they’ve convinced more than a few players that we have the means by which to become a major power on the galactic stage.”

  “Your warrior caste,” Jason guessed.

  “Yes. Thanks to millennia of tradition, Galvetor has a powerful, willing army of shock troopers that would be an absolute terror if unleashed on their neighbors.”

  “They wouldn’t just strike out militarily would they? The ConFed won’t allow you to begin invading neighboring star systems,” Jason said slowly.

  “No,” Crusher sighed. “It would be the threat of violence from the legions that would extort our trading partners into favorable terms. Given that our closet neighbors are not only relatively peaceful, but also master ship builders, I wouldn’t think it would be long before Galvetor was fielding a powerful fleet to go along with their army.”

  “Don’t take any offense at what I’m about to say,” Jason said carefully, “but isn’t this all a little … simplistic?”

  “Yes and no,” Crusher said. “I’m giving you the broad strokes, but you’re right … we’re not a politically sophisticated people. That may be due to our isolation or it may just be a character flaw.”

  “I suppose we should finish our discussion with Connimon and then you can decide from there what you want to do,” Jason said after a long moment of thought.

  “Agreed,” Crusher said, standing up. “So far she’s given no particular reason why they’ve taken the trouble to track me down.”

  Twenty minutes later they were all reassembled in the galley, seated at the second table, smaller table, with Twingo and Kage conspicuously absent. The gelten contingent all wore studiously blank looks peppered with occasional glances at Crusher. Jason watched it all with great interest. Crusher was the only member of his species he’d ever seen, so the way they treated him with deference while simultaneously seeming to genuinely fear him gave Jason some further insight as to who Crusher, or Felex, really was. As per their agreement when they’d left the armory, Crusher took control of the meeting.

  “Now that we’ve all had time to cool our tempers,” he began, “I’d like to know why you’ve come to find me. Tread wearily, Caretaker, for I will tolerate no lies.” Jason’s right eyebrow lifted a notch as Crusher seemed to switch between his usual, familiar manner of speaking and an odd, stilted formality.

  “As we were discussing, Galvetor is on the brink,” she said, holding up a hand to cut off Crusher’s protest. “I know, Felex … this conflict has been brewing so long that it has a feel of normalcy to it. Maybe it’s even slipped into the background of everyday life. The vast majority of our citizens feel it’s just the harmless wrangling of politicians that, in the end, will impact their lives very little.

  “My first indication that things may have changed was the concerted effort to have you removed. You were far too influential and a traditionalist; the legions would never have budged with you still in place as Archon. It was a surprise to everyone when you accepted exile without much of a fight.”

  “I had little choice,” Crusher said. “The legions had made it clear they would resist any overt effort to remove me. Had I not stepped down, there was no doubt it would have led to a violent conflict between us and Galvetor Internal Security.”

  “That was the thought of the senior leadership as well,” Connimon confirmed. “We gravely miscalculated, however, and in the time of your absence the oversight com
mittee has been staffed with interventionist sympathizers.”

  “The oversight committee is a strictly civilian council that observes the warrior caste and acts as a liaison between the legions and the capital on Galvetor,” Crusher said to Jason. “During the wrangling between isolationist and interventionist factions within the civilian government, both sides try to stack the deck in their favor in the oversight committee in case the worst was to happen.”

  “You mean if this little political cold war turned hot, the side that had the most influence over the legions would have a huge advantage,” Jason said.

  “Essentially, yes,” Connimon said. “But with Felex as Archon, none of this would have mattered. Not a single warrior would have marched without his consent. It was the main reason he was forced out; neither side liked the level of influence he exerted on such a powerful force.”

  “Especially not when they wanted it for themselves,” Jason said, nodding in understanding. “So this title … Archon … you were the presiding military officer within your ranks?”

  “It’s not quite what you would call a ‘general’ in your own experience,” Crusher explained. “I was, am still, I suppose, the spiritual, political, and military leader of my people. I know I’m making it sound like a cult, but being a Galvetic warrior isn’t something you volunteer for. You’re born into it and have little choice of being anything else. As such, our society is a bit different than the volunteer military force of your peers that you enlisted in.” This was the first time since they had met the geltens in Colton Hub that Crusher had fully admitted that what Connimon said of him was true. Her slow nod of agreement seemed to say she took this as a small victory.

  “What do you mean that you still are?” Jason asked in confusion.