by Brian Dorsey
Schism
Gateway Series
Book 4
Brian Dorsey
Copyright © 2017 by Brian Dorsey
www.briandorseybooks.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or places is coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission from the author.
Chapter 1
Emily Martin peered into the dim light of the hospital room.
The small light above the bed created a soft, white hue around Marshal Tyler Stone as he sat next to the unconscious Mori Skye.
Stone’s head rested on the bed as he held Mori’s hand. Since Mori’s injury in the battle for Alpha Humana, Stone had spent every free moment with either her or his son, Octavius.
Martin exhaled; what she was about to tell him may change that.
She eased the door open and stepped inside.
“Sir,” she said softly.
Stone raised his head. “What is it?”
“They’ve found him, sir…Maxa.”
Stone sat up straight. The name of the man that had betrayed the Akota attack on Alpha Humana, costing thousands of Akota and Humani lives, caused Stone’s face to grow red with anger. “Where?”
“Intel has determined he’s on Bravo 8. It looks like Astra Varus has given him a small province from which he’s begun to expand his influence.”
Stone gently removed his hands from Mori’s and rose to his feet. “How many men?”
“He has the hundred or so of his followers he took when he deserted but others have joined him as he’s taken control of several towns and villages on Bravo 8…and he appears to have at least a battalion of Humani regulars supporting him.”
“Payment for his treason,” grumbled Stone.
Martin could see the rage radiating from Stone’s eyes.
“Yes,” she replied. “But I think it’s time we paid him what he’s really got coming to him.”
After a heavy sigh, Stone sank back into his seat in frustration.
“Sir?”
“Maxa isn’t important enough for the Akota to send a force after him right now and I…” he looked toward Mori. “I can’t leave her.”
Martin sighed. She respected him for his dedication to Mori and at the same time hated how the Akota witch maintained such a hold on him. “But I can.”
Stone’s gaze shot back toward Martin. “Emily?”
“I don’t need an invasion force…or Akota permission.” She walked to Stone, now on his feet again. “I’ll make him pay,” she said, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Just say the word and I’ll find him and whisper your name to him as he takes his last breath.”
She stared into his eyes; they were full of anger and pain.
He glanced toward the unconscious Mori, her amputated leg still wrapped in a regeneration chamber. “Go.”
***
“Damn it,” cursed Martin as she scanned the massive Akota mess hall. Since there was no social distinction between Akota officers and enlisted, they all dined together. Although the egalitarian practice was one of the few aspects of Akota military she actually liked, Martin let out a groan as she looked through the sea of Akota for one Iroqua.
Finally she saw him.
Martin’s heart beat strong as she walked up to Thay.
Thay glanced up toward Martin and returned to his meal as if she wasn’t there.
This wasn’t going to be fun. She inhaled, swallowing her pride. “Can I sit?”
Thay looked up again, his lip curled with curiosity. “I don’t control where you sit…the Humani are the ones that control all the little details of a person’s life.”
“Fine,” grumbled Martin as she sat. “I need to talk to you—”
“About what?” asked Thay, still chewing his food.
Martin inhaled and slowly exhaled again, looking up toward the ceiling. “I don’t feel like playing this game…do you want to go with me on a mission?”
“What mission?”
“To kill the man that betrayed our plans for the attack on Alpha Humana.”
Thay stopped eating and looked toward Martin. “What’s the plan?”
“He’s on Bravo 8. We’ll do a high altitude drop, find his base, and kill him.”
“Who’s on the team?”
“You and me.”
Thay turned back toward his meal, finished chewing his food, and took a drink. “And why me?”
“I need someone I can trust to hold their own in a fight.”
Taking another bite, Thay nodded. “Sure.”
“Great,” replied Martin. “We leave in two days.”
“Good.”
***
Astra Varus stood over an empty crib as General Vispa spoke.
“We have received word that shipments of the first wave of infected slaves have arrived and cleared medical checks at the demarcation stations on the Xen border, ProConsul.”
“How many so far?”
“Fifteen thousand with another forty scheduled for this standard year, ProConsul.”
Astra’s eyes were locked on the empty crib. Octavius would be walking soon. Then speaking his first words…probably in some savage Terillian language.
Her hands gripped the rails of the crib, turning white.
“ProConsul?”
“What is it, Vispa?”
“Do you want the remainder of the briefing now or should I—”
Astra wiped a tear from her cheek and turned to face Vispa. “Continue.”
“Yes, ProConsul. Construction at Dolus has returned to schedule and training of our modified troops is at full capacity. The first brigade of troops is ready for field testing.”
“And where will this occur?”
“Marus Minor.”
“Have we not removed that upstart from power?”
“No, ProConsul,” replied Vispa. “We decided to let Bara Grimes continue to consolidate his position for the purpose of testing our troops there.”
Bara Grimes was a two-bit idealist who had organized a small rebellion of miners and farmers on a planet within the Humana system. Vispa had been right to choose Marus Minor. It was completely under cognizance of Alpha Humana and not in either Xen territory or the Neutral Quadrant. And allowing Grimes to expand his influence on the backwater planet would provide a good test of her new Dog Soldiers. “I see. And when will they deploy.”
“Within the month, ProConsul.”
“Very well—” Astra noticed a young officer step into the entrance and come to attention.
“One of your officers is standing by to interrupt us, General.”
“Very sorry, ProConsul,” replied Vispa. “It must be very important.”
“It had better be. Go,” she said, waving her hand. “See what he wants.”
Astra watched as Vispa walked over to the young officer. The officer saluted and presented a data pad to Vispa. Reading the pad, Vispa glanced back toward Astra and motioned for the officer to leave. The officer quickly complied as Vispa walked toward Astra.
“What is so important as to interrupt the ProConsul, General?”
Vispa looked up from the data pad. “Commander Skye has located a remote Terillian communications station. She is headed for the station with plans to take it and search for any information related to her mission.”
“And by mission, you mean finding my son and the traitors who have him?”
“Yes, ProConsul.”
“Commander Skye has permission to carry out any actions she feels necessary to capture
the traitors and return my son.”
“Yes, ProConsul.”
“Is that all, General?”
“Yes, ProConsul.”
“Very well. Keep me updated on Commander Skye’s progress.”
“Of course, ProConsul.”
Astra gave Vispa the look that told him it was time for him to leave.
As the general exited the room, Astra turned back toward the crib.
“Bring him back to me, Sierra,” she whispered.
***
Martin zipped her combat vest over her high-altitude jump suit and shoved a pistol into the holster on her vest. She pulled another pistol from the weapons locker and slid it into place in the holster attached to her right hip. Next, she grabbed her sword and attached it to the fitting on her back next to her parachute rig.
She slowly ran her hand over the three assault rifles in the locker before grabbing the one on the left. She took the rifle in her hands and placed the butt to her shoulder, looking down the barrel. Shifting her grip, Martin placed a magazine in the weapon and depressed the charging pin before attaching the D-rings to the slings on her vest.
Grabbing a combat knife, she held it to her face.
The mission was to find and kill Maxa, but her thoughts drifted to Astra Varus. Her heart quickened as she envisioned the blade sinking into Astra’s body. She closed her eyes as her thoughts drifted back to her father’s last moments. “Someday,” she said softly. “Someday.” She shoved the knife into its place on her vest and closed the locker.
Martin made her way down the passageway. Pushing the thoughts of her father’s death and her need to avenge him from her mind, she refocused herself on the mission.
A few meters from the door to the jump chamber, she met Thay.
“You ready?” she asked.
“Of course,” he replied flatly.
Martin opened the door to the chamber and they both stepped inside.
“Any updates?” asked Thay.
“Maxa is still in the Northeast area of the primary land mass on the northern hemisphere of the planet, near the city Fa-gra. He has several thousand men but most are out expanding his territory.”
“How many at the command facility?”
“Unchanged, probably less than a hundred or so…mostly his men from before.”
“Same drop area then?”
“Yep,” replied Martin as she slid the air mask over her face.
“Weather?”
“Shitty.”
“Typical,” replied Thay, his voiced muffled by his mask.
Martin closed the inner door and activated the intercom. “Orion, we’re ready.”
“Standby,” came Orion’s voice. “Entering the upper atmosphere.”
“Just one last thing,” said Martin, turning toward Thay.
“What?”
“I get to kill him.”
The light flashed green and outer door opened. “See you on the ground,” said Martin into the comms link in her mask as she turned and leapt into the boundary between space and Bravo 8’s atmosphere.
***
Freezing rain stung Martin’s face as she reclined in the rough, tangled brush.
Looking through the viewing magnifier, she watched armed men moving about the camp a kilometer away. Martin and Thay had spent the last three days on the side of the ridge overlooking Maxa’s headquarters. Her bones rattled from the frigid air and freezing rain but she welcomed the cold, wet, and windy weather over the recycled air in the metallic coffin of the transport.
“Want some?” asked Thay, reaching Martin a pemmican stick.
Martin grabbed the stick and bit off a chunk. As she chewed, the mixture of animal fat, oats, and berries consumed her senses of taste and smell. She hated to admit it but it was a vast improvement on the Humani ‘food’ sticks issued for missions when she was in the Guard.
“So why doesn’t Stone do this himself?” asked Thay.
“He needed to stay with her,” grumbled Martin through a mouthful of the pemmican.
“She’ll heal or not regardless of his presence,” replied Thay. “But for him to truly get vengeance he would need to do it himself.”
“That’s what I’m for.”
“But how will his need to avenge Maxa’s treachery be appeased by you?”
“Stone’s not like us…” She paused, realizing she’d acknowledged the similarity between her and Thay. “…he isn’t concerned about revenge. He wants justice…and I can give him that.”
“There is no difference. Revenge is justice. The wrong must be avenged to return the balance.” Thay paused. “He will never find balance.”
“I don’t think he want’s balance,” replied Martin. “He wants Maxa taken out because of the threat he poses, not because of what he has done.”
“And you?”
“His pride and treachery resulted in the death of brother soldiers…so he deserves to die.”
“Now that makes sense.”
“But Stone is…he is more…”
“He’s a complicated man, your Marshal Stone.”
“He is,” said Martin. “And he isn’t mine.”
Thay laughed.
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“No,” said Martin, turning toward Thay. “Why is that funny?”
“I don’t know if you two were ever lovers—”
“No,” snapped Martin. “That’s just…no.”
“Anyway,” continued Thay, “regardless of that, I’ve never seen a subordinate so emotionally tied to a superior…its very un-Iroqua…or even Terillian in general.”
“Well I’m not a fucking Terillian.”
“But why do you…what is the hold he has on you?”
Martin thought back to the day as a cadet when service selection was made. “He gave me a chance when others wouldn’t. I wasn’t initially chosen to be in the Guard because of my family status.”
Thay sat up slightly. “But why? You’re an excellent warrior.”
“Thank you,” said Martin, surprised he gave her the satisfaction of a compliment. “First Family members get the first shot at everything. Another cadet was initially selected because of his family status…but Stone made them take me.”
“Then you owe him a debt.”
“No. He did it because it was the right thing to do. I just need…needed to prove to him and everyone else that it was the right decision.”
“I think you’ve proven yourself by now.”
Martin laughed. “My legacy will be how I prove myself.”
“Legacy to who? Neither the Akota nor Iroqua give a shit about your family history…and you’re with us now.”
“I’m with you so that someday I can take my planet back from the First Family assholes that rule it.”
The rattle and rumble of machinery in the distance drew Martin’s attention. Looking down the ridge to her right, a column of tracked and wheeled vehicles, laden with produce and raw materials, came into view as it rolled down a dirt road toward the command post.
“Right on time,” said Thay.
“Yep,” replied Martin, taking another bite of pemmican. “Three days in a row they head out at 1000 local and comeback a few hours later.”
“They must be collecting supplies from nearby villages.”
“Well, three times is a trend,” said Martin. Over the last three days they’d watched convoys of vehicles leaving and entering the camp, observed guard turnovers, identified defensive positions, and planned their path to carry out their mission. “Do we need to observe anymore?”
“No,” replied Thay. “Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
The supply convoy would be their way in.
***
Martin crouched low as the column of trucks rolled past, the occasional rattle of metal or splash of mud punctuating the rumble of their engines. She focused on the final vehicle as it neared the marker of broken branches she’d placed near the road.
The tr
uck reached the mark and Martin activated the detonator.
A small pop was immediately followed by the sound of a tire rupturing.
Martin shouldered her rifle and waited for the truck to come to a stop. Her rifle centered on the driver, she watched as he hopped onto the muddy road and inspected the tire.
“Shit,” cursed the man.
“What is it?” asked the passenger as he joined the driver.
“Tire’s shot,” replied the driver, pulling a large piece of metal out of the muck. “Must have hit this.”
Martin had set up the scenario well.
‘Truck seven, this is truck one. What’s your status?’ came over the driver’s radio.
“Flat tire,” replied the driver.
‘Do you need help?’
“No,” sighed the driver. “We’ll change it and catch up.”
Kicking the wheel of the flat tire, the driver knelt down and looked up toward the passenger. “Grab the tools.”
Martin drew her sword and tightened her body, ready to leap from her position.
Thay’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.
“Let them change to the tire,” he mouthed. “Unless you want to do it.”
Martin nodded in agreement. No need for extra work.
In a few minutes, the job was done and the men began to store their tools.
“We’re gonna be late for chow,” huffed the passenger as he turned toward the back of the truck. “I just—”
Martin burst from the cover of the forest toward the truck.
The passenger grabbed the rifle strapped across his torso but he stumbled backwards, falling against the truck with Thay’s tomahawk protruding from his chest.
The driver, startled by the sight of the passenger falling, was slow to react but swung his body toward the threat with a pistol in his hand.
An upward slash from Martin’s sword separated the driver’s hand from his arm. She pivoted and snapped her torso, laying open his chest with another stroke of her sword. As the man fell to his knees, she drove her sword through her opponent’s neck. Letting out a grunt, she twisted the sword and yanked it from the man’s body. As the driver fell to the ground, Martin looked up to see Thay standing over the passenger.
“Well that was easy enough,” said Thay, wiping the blade of his tomahawk.
