Deliverers (The Chaos Shift Cycle Book 4)

by TR Cameron

  "Commander," began Lieutenant Commander Claire Martin.

  "No way, Claire," Kate said with a smile. "Our first real opportunity at exploration? There’s no chance I'm staying on board and missing it." The other woman smiled and nodded, having done her job even though she knew it would be to no avail. "Plus, someone has to fly us in there, and you're the only one I trust other than myself."

  She pointed at Diaz, and said, "You're with me." Together, they left the bridge through the sliding door at its rear.

  They traveled down one deck, into the center of the ship and entered the exterior part of the armory to find the rest of their team waiting. The UAL had been unwilling to provide her with a full crew, a reward for her intransigence in the matter of giving up the Pandora, no doubt. The ship would have minimal personnel while the six of them were on the base.

  Her chief engineer, a transfer from a ship destroyed in the fighting at Starbase 14, clapped his hands together in anticipation. His enthusiasm was matched by Diaz, whose love of all things combat included person-to-person engagements as well.

  "What's the plan, Commander?"

  Kate shrugged. "Suit up, walk on the surface of the base, enter through an access hatch, overcome whatever automated defenses we might find, and..." she trailed off before she finished with a resigned note in her voice, "explore."

  Around them, a series of small hisses erupted as the arming stations came to life. At intervals around the room, sections of the wall slipped inward then aside, revealing bays set into that space. They were twice as high as the tallest person present and three times as wide. Kate judged that the diminutive stature of Pandora was not representative of the entire alien race, based on those dimensions. "Please step inside the bay and turn to face the main room." Pandora's soft tones echoed throughout the chamber.

  Kate stepped in, and the process began.

  "Raise your arms, please, to ninety degrees," the system ordered, and Kate obliged. The commands weren’t in Pandora's tones, but a soft cultured voice she identified as male. A series of robot arms extended, and pieces of an exoskeleton were positioned and latched together. Hard points deployed from the exoskeleton just in time to meet the armored plates carried by more robot arms. The plates overlapped to create a protective barrier with no gaps for enemy fire to exploit. It reminded Kate of an armadillo, and she laughed softly at the image. Boots were assembled around her own, and a helmet descended and locked into place. The arms retracted, and the voice said, "Please step forward."

  Kate stepped into the main room, a second ahead of the rest of her squad. The doors behind them slid closed, again concealing the bays. Kate's armor came to life. Her heads-up display showed the telltales of a self-diagnostic process—a schematic that resembled a humanoid figure glowing in various shades as components were tested. The voice sounded softly again in her helmet, "All systems are functioning, Commander Kate Flynn. "

  "Are you part of the ship's computer?"

  "Negative," the voice answered. "I am a splinter of the armory computer, tasked with assisting you in combat. Each suit of armor contains a separate version of me."

  "Excellent," Kate replied. She took a hesitant step forward, then a stronger one. After several moments of arm waving and moving around the chamber, she felt confident in her ability to handle the suit.

  "Why does this armor fit us?"

  "At one time, the Domeki utilized allies that were your approximate size, Commander. Eligos' Scimitar began the manufacturing process to create the suits in anticipation of this need some time ago."

  Kate frowned at the discordant juxtaposition of "utilized" and "allies," but then shrugged and decided that was a question for another day. "Weapons?"

  A large panel at the end of the room slid up, revealing an array of options. Each rifle looked identical, but in Kate's heads-up display she could see that each was configured for a different set of munitions options. She chose one that was energy based and grabbed a sidearm that used projectiles. A small set of connectors extended from her right leg, and she slapped the pistol against it to lock it into place. The rifle went over her back, not in a cross-carry like the UAL combat armor, but straight up-and-down along the left-hand side. It was an awkward draw, so she practiced it several times until it wasn’t likely to hamper her. A small part of her mind calculated that the aliens must have longer arms or fingers than the average human in order to make that arrangement work.

  "Please connect me to the rest of the team and keep our communication lines open."

  "Done, Commander Flynn."

  Excited voices came over the channel. "This is great," Diaz enthused. Kate looked over to find he had two rifles and two sidearms attached to his armor and was carrying a pair of satchels secured to the outsides of his lower legs.

  "Did you leave any for everyone else?" Kate asked.

  "The Pandora seems to have an endless supply, Commander," observed her chief engineer. Kate looked back to see that each of the weapons they’d taken had already been replaced. She whistled. "My girl never ceases to amaze."

  The armor was a neutral gray. Kate knew from her control options that it would deploy camouflage continuously once they left the ship unless that option was deactivated.

  "All right," she said, and clapped her hands together. "We’re ready to rock-and-roll."

  Claire Martin's voice joined the cacophony in her helmet. With a gesture, she manipulated a virtual control and increased the volume of Claire's feed. The combat armor replayed it, so she didn't lose any of her XO's words. "Commander, we’re about to make our approach to the base. Pandora would like you to report to the bottom of the ship, compartment two." A map appeared in her display, showing the fastest route to their destination.

  "All right people, let's move. Time to see what an alien base looks like."

  Chapter Seven

  Indraat Vray paced the bridge of the Ruby Rain as if she’d been trapped inside it forever. In truth, the months of the campaign against the humans were an eternity. Days like today, and messages like the one she’d just received, intensified the feeling.

  The orders from her uncle, now both hierarch and military commander, violated both good religion and smart strategy. She grunted, turned on her heel, and began a lap in reverse, noting absently the way her crew stiffened each time she made an abrupt movement.

  That was all to the good. They’d need to be ready to fly at a moment's notice, given what laid ahead.

  Indraat shook her head at the hierarch's decision to suddenly adopt a less literal view of the word of the gods. The Dhadas was clear about the number of forces that should be committed to each battle. Kraada was breaking that tradition, using a strategic loophole that was thinner than a feather. The next attack would be a diversion, which was good. A portion of the allocated ships would lay in reserve, and some participants in the coming engagement would split off to join them in an assault upon a different target. Again, while not as sophisticated as many of the strategies the hierarch had used, it was adequate.

  What was problematic was the decision to treat that new battle as a separate entity rather than as an extension of the first.

  Her circuit had returned her to her chair, and she sat, leaning back and closing her eyes. It was clear in the holy book that only discrete battles allowed for legitimate numerical increases. It was one of the first things that new officers learned at The Academy. By making this choice, he was opposing a centuries-long understanding of the word of the gods.

  It was her job, as newly promoted commander of the entire invasion, to enforce those orders with those under her command.

  Indraat sighed, then stood and straightened her uniform. "Communication, fleetwide broadcast."

  Moments later, that officer nodded, having sent the alert to all the ships to attend to their main displays. Indraat looked into the camera and spoke. "We’re ordered to split our forces in preparation for the next battle. At the end of this message, I’ll designate those who are taking part in the next a
ttack, and those who are positioning for the one after." She coughed, then returned her gaze to the screen and placed her arms behind her back.

  "The battle we’re entering is a diversion. We’ll draw their defenses and destroy what we can. At an opportune moment, a large portion of that force will leave the sector and join our reserve element in an attack on a location we’ve scouted for a direct transit."

  It was a one-way broadcast, so she couldn’t see the reaction of her subordinates, but she imagined there would be anger and outrage among the more pious, and enthusiasm for the trickery among those who didn’t cleave so strongly to the literal interpretation of the Dhadas.

  "Copies of these orders and the breakdown of our forces are being transmitted to you. Included in them is my promotion to Fleet-Captain, and my assignment to overall command of the invasion fleet. Be ready to move within an eight. Indraat out."

  She turned and paced again, awaiting the inevitable. It took less than a minute. "Fleet-Captain, transmission from the Jade Breeze."

  "It seems that ship has a tendency to attract troublesome commanders," Indraat observed. "On screen."

  The current captain of the Jade Breeze appeared, looking intense and angry. She pushed down her own fire and frustration and forced her voice to remain moderate. "Yes, Captain Stanraa?"

  "Fleet-Captain," he began, putting far more scorn into the first word than it was ever designed to hold, "I must protest these orders. By so transparently evading the dictates of the gods, we’re ensuring our own defeat, and the destruction of our people." His body was tense, but he maintained his composure—long arms rigidly glued to his sides and an aristocratic tilt to his chin that gave the impression he was looking down at her.

  "Ship-Captain, I was unaware that our military chain of command had become a democracy. I have my orders from the hierarch. You have your orders from me. All is as it should be."

  "How do we know these orders are authentic?"

  Indraat laughed, the demeaning sound hitting its target squarely and causing him to flinch. "I’m sorry, Captain Stanraa, that you’ve apparently lost your direct communication to the home world, allowing you to verify each order as it was given. That must be a dramatic reduction in your peace of mind. I’m afraid that from here on out, you’ll simply need to follow the orders supplied by those who’ve been judged superior to you."

  His mouth gaped at the insult, and for a moment he seemed unable to find his voice. Then, he fell back on ones that had existed throughout most of Xroeshyn civilization. "You have insulted my honor, Indraat Vray. I demand you retract your words or meet me within the lines of eight."

  "My words are truth, Ship-Captain Stanraa. I will not retract them. Proceed to the Sapphire Sky in a shuttle immediately after you’ve armed yourself and selected your second."

  She killed the channel and turned to her helm officer. "Dock the Ruby Rain with the Sapphire Sky. Find out what hangar bay that idiot will be using and put us at the nearest hardpoint. I’ll be arming." She turned to her religious officer. "Deacon Raanja, would you agree to serve as my second?"

  "I will, Fleet-Captain." It was common for captains on a deployment to select their religious officers as seconds, both to preserve the balance of military and church and to ensure proper functioning of the ritual.

  "Let's go," she said, and led the way toward her quarters.

  The hangar bay of the Sapphire Sky was cavernous, with perfectly symmetrical rows of its own shuttles along the rear wall. Before them, rested the shuttle from the Jade Breeze—a shimmering green that matched the colors of its vessel. As Indraat neared the figures that stood before it, she locked eyes with the captain's second, formerly one of her uncle's attendants. Then she shifted her stare to her opponent, and a frown dragged down the corners of her mouth. He was wearing double sidearms and heavy armor. The former was inappropriate; the latter was surprising to see from the captain of a forward ship. It was clumsy and slow, things that were rarely associated with spacers. He wore paired hand-and-a-half swords on his back, and she could only imagine that he was strong enough—or had power-assist built into his armor, which would also be outside the appropriate boundaries of this battle—to wield them simultaneously.

  She touched her daggers at her thighs, waist, and lower back. Then she reached up to tap the hilt of her own sword, where it extended above her left shoulder.

  It was unfortunate, she thought. It would’ve been a splendid battle.

  "Indraat Vray, I again demand you retract—"

  Indraat held up a hand and bellowed, "Shut it."

  He stopped, looking shocked. Indraat glanced at her second. He returned a nod to confirm that the signal from the shuttle bay was transmitting to all of her ships. "Ship-Captain Stanraa Drin, I told you that circumstances have changed. I give you this one chance to acknowledge my leadership and return to the Jade Breeze. We could use your skills in the battles to come." That was as close to an accommodation as Indraat was going to give.

  Her opponent's face flushed with anger, taking on a bluish tone. "You are a stain on the honor of the Xroeshyn Navy, Indraat Vray. But let us end this." On the last word, he drew his sidearm and brought it up in a perfect arc, ending with the barrel level with her eyes. Indraat neither moved nor flinched.

  A hint of uncertainty flickered across his features, followed by disbelief and agony as the knife his religious officer, Radith, had plunged into his side reached his heart. He had the strength to pull the trigger as he fell, but his shot went wide and sparked off the clean metal of the bay.

  Indraat watched him fall and bleed for several seconds before turning to the camera that hovered nearby, still broadcasting.

  "Ship-Captains and Squadron-Captains, understand this. Things are different now. The military and the church are united in one leader. I am the voice of the hierarch in the field. My orders will be obeyed. Whatever secondary channels of communication you had before are now invalid. It’s my job to deliver the orders of the hierarch, and I will. It’s my job to make sure that these orders are obeyed, and I will. It’s your job to obey those orders, and have no doubt, you will." She clasped her hands in front of her and looked down for a moment before returning her steely gaze to the camera.

  "Dissent or disobey, and you will not find yourselves in the lines of eight, but in the in-between. There is no longer time for distraction. The cycle nears its end, and the gods have given us the mandate to destroy the humans now. Anyone who’s uncomfortable with this, anyone who wishes to resign, now is the time. This once, you’re granted safe passage to board the Sapphire Sky and finish this battle as observers rather than participants."

  Indraat pointed into the faces of all those viewing. "Disobey after this, and you will die for your disobedience. Choose well."

  She was back on the bridge of the Ruby Rain, in uniform, when the inevitable occurred. Her tactical officer sounded the alert. "Fleet-Captain, the Emerald Thunder is attempting to leave the sector without orders."

  She nodded and looked pointedly at her religious officer. Raanja busied himself at one of the bridge stations. Several minutes passed. Then, the main display activated with a signal from the fleeing ship. Its religious officer stood next to the captain's chair, which held the slumped and lifeless form of the former captain. Judging from his position, his throat had been slashed in a surprise attack, and his uniform was stained with his lifeblood. The religious officer held a sidearm pointed at the bridge crew, who were clustered in a corner.

  Indraat made a gesture, and her communication officer overrode the main displays of all the ships in the fleet. Everyone would watch this conversation.

  "Well done, Deacon Priindo. You’re a true servant of the church and the Xroeshyn people."

  "Thank you, Fleet-Captain." The man managed a quiet dignity despite the situation.

  "Will the crew follow you?"

  "Negative, Fleet-Captain. They’ve been too long under the influence of this cowardly vermin and have lost their way."

  "Pi
ty," Indraat replied, displaying nothing of the sort in her voice or her expression. "Farewell on your journey, Priindo Sen."

  "Speak of me to the hierarch, Fleet-Captain."

  "I will."

  She made a small gesture with her right hand, and the screen shifted back to a real-time view so that the entire fleet could watch the Emerald Thunder explode into rubble and debris. She let that image linger, and spoke over it, "You have your orders. A portion of our forces will lie in reserve, a portion of our forces will be used in the next battle prior to repositioning, and a portion of our forces will be dedicated entirely to that battle. You have roughly three eights of the original interval remaining. See to it you’re ready to depart at the appointed moment.

  "Fleet-Captain Indraat Vray, out."

  Chapter Eight

  The chief engineer of the Washington, DC gave his commander a dour look and said, "I have exhausted every repair, both legitimate and invented, that my admittedly brilliant mind can conceive. It’s time to go, my boy."

  Cross took a delaying quaff of his beverage, then cursed as the hot liquid burned his mouth. "Whose idea was it to drink tea?"

  Jannik laughed. "Dima's, actually. But for those situations where a real drink would be inappropriate, this does pretty well."

  "I don't think I agree," Cross groused. "Coffee would be a much better choice. At least it keeps you awake. Actually—"

  Jannik banged his own mug on the table softly, cutting Cross off. "My boy, stop stalling. You know as well as I do, that it's time."

  Cross dropped his eyes and processed those words, and everything that lay behind them. "Are you sure there’s nothing left we can legitimately repair or improve?"

  Jannik looked insulted. "Engineers are always precise. If I say there’s nothing left, I mean there’s nothing left."

  "I just don't want to abandon her again," Cross said, in a voice full of emotion. A tear threatened to build, so he took another scalding drink to cover it.