Heath settled back.
Each of them carried a small cyanide capsule, fully intended to be used before this mission was over. Either if they were captured during the next phase or at the end, when they’d reached the wall and the mission was a success (Trojan planted), and they’d made their attempt to get Satori, thrown the Kel off the scent and done what they came to do. One way or the other, this was it.
The mechanics of how Fang and his team were pulling off the current aspect of their impossible gambit, the nerve-wracking lander flight into orbit … Apparently they were spoofing responses, acting as the Kel lander captain, feeding those responses through an AI application that was being streamed through the lander as a convincing point of origin, which meant, by all indications, it was the lander captain that had decided to take human prisoners and rush them back to the fleet. Against any and all orders. Which meant that, by all indications, Heath and his team were on a lander that was, at the moment, being run by what Kel fleet command was rapidly coming to view as a mutinous crew.
It seemed only a matter of moments before they were shot down.
Heath’s comm beeped. It was Fang, coming to him direct. He acked the call and Fang proceeded to tell him Jessica had made it. She did what she set out to do, the objective was cleared, the Bok were dead—Heath had him repeat that twice—and she was on her way to the next target. Fang asked Heath to relay this information to Zac and signed off.
The pendulum of Heath’s emotions swung. Nothing had changed about their own suicidal mission, but this news was fantastic.
He rose and went forward to the cockpit. None of them thought Jess would come through on such an impossible, incredible objective. It was her own suicide mission. Now this.
She did it! She actually killed the frickin Bok.
All by herself.
What did that mean for them? How could they fail now? A team of specialists, trained, and now if she’d made it they had to make it.
As he entered the cockpit he pulled his mask, so happy to deliver this bit of news, and as he told Zac he could feel the same revitalized determination in his demeanor. The others as well. Hearing this they were motivated with fresh inspiration. If Jess, all alone, could walk into the headquarters of the world’s leaders, do what she went to do and walk out, successful … why not them?
Heath went into each mission with one objective. When you distilled it down, all of it, stripped away all the complexities, the urges toward self preservation, the big picture, mission objectives and all else, the truth was it came down to this:
Save the guy next to you.
And as he looked around at his team, guys he knew and guys he was only just getting to know, he felt that impulse like he never had.
This would not be suicide.
They were going to make it.
**
“A spectacle is what’s needed,” Cee continued to make that point with her bishop as Kang listened. Kang had suffered about all he could of their conversation. He’d been standing around uselessly in the Bok archives while the queen and the bishop chattered on, the rest of their team of Kel specialists hard at work. He wondered if any of them loathed the two leaders as much as he did right then.
“Something to shut them up.” Cee looked to her team, they showing no sign of listening—though it would be impossible for them not to hear. No doubt they realized she thought the citizens of her regime stupid, and that she might, in turn, think them stupid.
Cee’s bishop nodded. “It is a distraction that poisons.”
I should kill you all. Right here, right now.
The queen was losing her mind, and while Kang knew he himself was no longer stable—far from it, if indeed he ever was—he was sane enough to recognize that dwindling spiral in others.
He lowered the translation wand to his side, tired of even hearing any more of their words. His own role in events, or lack of one, was steadily driving him mad. Horus had probably been destroyed in the annihilating blast the Kel delivered to that mountain valley. No more had been heard from his nemesis. Part of him saw the futility of continuing to harbor that rage. Things had become skewed. He was Cee’s lover, her pet, but not fully her co-equal. His place among the Kel was at the top and yet, in truth, he was little more than a set-piece. He saw this, felt it acutely, yet saw no clear way out of what had become an infuriating trap. After crawling from the hole and naming himself emperor of the world, a foolish assertion that carried no weight, he’d seen a way back in, through an unholy alliance with Cee, and now here he was.
Nothing had changed. In fact, in some ways things were worse. He was little more than a monstrous stud, her trophy, following her around, grumbling and hating things but not doing anything.
A call was coming in. He heard the changes in voice; captured his drifting mind and focused. It was the fleet, something over the comm relay. Cee stopped speaking to her bishop and turned her attention to this new thread. It was audio, coming over her personal communicator.
Kang recognized the voice as that of Voltan.
He raised his translation wand.
“… have been slaughtered,” came the English translation.
Cee’s eyes were wide; clearly shocked at the first part of that transmission. Kang listened closer.
“What?!” Cee spluttered. “All of them?!”
“Not all,” came the answer. “But many. The key leads you appointed.” Kang strained to piece together what this meant, missing the key opening statement but with enough info now to …
“The leaders of your puppet regime are dead,” said Voltan’s voice, filling the blank and confirming Kang’s deduction.
The Bok had been killed.
“Who?!” Cee wanted to know. “How?!” She looked as if she might actually fall down.
“Unsure,” said Voltan, and Kang found himself listening with more interest.
“I still need them!” Cee fumed, shock giving way to rage, and as those words made it to sound Kang could tell she wished she never said them. “You arranged this!” she followed quickly with an accusation. “You allowed this to happen!”
Voltan’s response was like ice.
“I have never hidden my distaste for your choice,” he said, then, with a statement that gave even Kang pause: “And I would never hide my intent to kill them. You can rest assured this was not my doing. You would know it if it was.”
Cee barreled on. “Who killed them?!”
“We’re just getting reports. What we do know is that it seems to have been a single human.”
A single … ?
Kang nearly grabbed Cee’s communicator. Horus!? Was he alive after all?! Cee was looking at him, hovering close, and in her eyes Kang saw the same thoughts. Was Horus back and on a rampage?!
But no.
“A female,” said Voltan. “From reports.”
For Cee this was more alarming even than the idea of Horus.
“A …” she couldn’t form words. “A single human female?” Not the superhuman. And Kang knew exactly what she was thinking.
The herald.
If it was, if it was the girl Kang knew … she had already played dangerous roles in events with which Kang was involved. And Horus had always been with her. Which meant maybe she hadn’t acted alone.
Maybe Horus was involved.
“So far that is the report,” Voltan droned on. “I’m working on—”
Cee snapped off the channel, cutting him off and ending their conversation.
“We go now,” she said to no one in particular. “To Hong Kong.”
And for once Kang was in full agreement.
**
Kel Warlord Eldron made his way alone through the corridors to Voltan’s situation room. Though he outranked most of the officers and personnel he passed on his way, he was nevertheless a mid-level warlord, commander of only a single heavy cruiser, and he was aboard a command dreadnought, flagship of the Kel Praetor himself. Somehow it managed to combine to make him feel rather
unimportant.
But Voltan had summoned him. Why, Eldron did not yet know, but after the few private conversations they’d had Eldron suspected Voltan had begun to see him in a new light. Someone with whom he could sound ideas. Someone with whom he could discuss alternatives, to the Queen’s plans, perhaps. And, even more heretical, how those ideas might shape the Kel future.
He reached the situation room, was waved in and the door closed on he and Voltan. The Praetor sat alone, observing several consoles, in conversation with one of his ground commanders on a view screen. He acknowledged Eldron with a nod as he continued speaking.
“And so that remains their response?”
“Yes, lord,” came the answer. “The commander aboard the insertion craft insists he must bring the captives directly to the queen’s flagship.”
Voltan considered this. Eldron stood quietly inside the door, listening intently.
“We believe the commander is more likely under duress,” said the ground commander. “Voice patterns would seem to indicate this.”
Voltan thought a moment longer, then came to a decision.
“Release it to the fleet and I will oversee it from here.”
A pause, then: “Yes, lord.”
Voltan closed the channel.
He indicated a chair and Eldron sat.
“We’ve had a small insurrection,” the Praetor informed him. “A flare-up. A group of humans attempted to sabotage a bit of their own infrastructure.”
“To what end?”
“Presumably to deny it to us,” Voltan gave a little shrug. “We can’t be certain yet. More probably it was a set-up, though we don’t yet know the purpose of that, either. A landing craft was sent, which we believe is what they were expecting, and, it would seem, they are now aboard that same lander, making their way here. Most specifically demanding to take the prisoners directly to the queen’s flagship.”
Eldron was incredulous. “That’s madness.”
“I’m afraid that’s what you’ve just walked in on. It’s the latest we know. The commander in charge of that zone believes his junior officer aboard the lander is under duress. I agree. There would be no other cause for such willful disobedience.”
“Is the queen aboard her flagship?”
Voltan shook his head.
“You ordered it released to the fleet,” said Eldron. “Are we going to shoot it down?”
“No,” said Voltan. “We’re going to allow it to follow through,” he finished his thought, and Eldron had to re-hear it in his head a few times before it stuck.
We’re allowing it to follow through?
“I see this as an opportunity,” Voltan explained. “I’m curious to see how it plays out. The queen is on the ground pursuing I know not what. The same personal quest she’s been on, trying to act as if she works toward some great end, a critical solution to our objectives.” The Praetor’s disdain was clear. “This is a chance to give the humans a little rope. To see what they’re up to. Surely if the Kel captain aboard that lander is under duress, and they’ve hijacked it, they expect to achieve something. I’d like to see what that is.”
“Have you informed Cee?”
Absently Voltan checked one of his consoles. “I was trying to but she cut me off.” He lapsed to a posture that was something a bit more personal. “I grow tired, Eldron. I can no longer play this game.” Then he was back to Supreme Commander Voltan, Praetor of the Kel Empire. “We will see to this ourselves. Much is happening and I believe it will serve our interests best, at this juncture, to observe.”
Yes, but what good did it do not to interdict a potentially huge debacle while it was still insignificant? What good did it do to allow humans to compromise one of their mighty dreadnoughts? A flagship, no less. Eldron had doubt.
“Resistance elements exist on Earth,” said Voltan. “We’ve done little to track them. Now this. Most assuredly a ploy of one of these groups, if not many in concert. We have here an opportunity to gather clues to their thinking. I doubt they’re expecting this to work. I’d like to see how they follow through when it does.”
On the one hand Eldron thought this to be an extremely bad idea. On the other, he relished being in the inner circle—at the very center—debating this important crux in events with their supreme commander.
And he wondered, fleetingly, if there were a coup … where might he fit?
“Cee’s flagship commander will balk,” he pointed out. “Admiral Bossa will not allow that menace aboard, even if the lander captain insists he has them contained. What if they carry a bomb?”
Now Voltan’s visage grew stern.
“Admiral Bossa will do as he is told.”
CHAPTER 31: OPERATORS
Drake’s eyes were glued to the on-screen data scrolling alongside locational metrics and positional blips, showing the progress of the hijacked lander as it closed on the Kel fleet.
Remarkably they’d almost made it.
“I can’t believe they’re buying this,” said Cooper in his refined British accent.
“What if they reach the flagship?” someone asked. “Think they’ll let them aboard?”
The impossible was happening and, though everyone set out on this crazy mission with the intent of succeeding, no one, in the end, actually believed they would. Truthfully, the whole thing was expected to fail. They were doing it only because they had to, because they had no choice. It was the only way. But now … now that it was so close, and actually working … now that things had gone further even than anyone dared hope, a certain sense of clinging desperation had begun to permeate the air of the safe house. Now that the team was actually nearly to their objective … now they had to succeed. Resignation had flipped to desperation, and suddenly there was a chance.
As the blip of the lander merged with that of the dreadnought the quiet hubbub in the room went totally silent. No one speaking, all eyes watching. The blips came together. Then, quite unexpectedly, Fang laughed. It was a tense laugh, the laugh of a man on the brink, and it made Drake jump.
Fang shook his head. “I’m imagining this fake Kel commander I’ve been mocking up. Trying to picture an actual Kel doing this. He’d have to be a complete idiot. I’ve got him flying the lander, ignoring the shit out of his bosses and just doing whatever the hell he wants, shutting down their attempts to override, flying into the teeth of the fleet at a nice, easy pace, not even rushing. Now he’s requesting permission to land on the queen’s flagship—the frickin queen’s flagship! He’s violated every procedure, he’s in full-on insubordination …
“I’m just laughing because it occurred to me, maybe they’re not shooting it out of the sky because they want to get him aboard so they can kick his ass.”
That got a few nervous chuckles around the room. The more likely probability was that the Kel were playing along. There was no reason for them to be allowing things to progress this far. They had to know. Surely they must suspect the humans were behind it.
The impossible continued. The lander was allowed into Bay Five of the mighty Kel dreadnought.
A moment later Heath’s surprised voice gave them final confirmation.
“We’re in,” came his abbreviated notice.
“Can we get a feed?” Drake crowded closer, nearly on top of Fang where he sat leaning forward, fingers flying over keyboard and mouse.
“Securing it now.”
“ ... Oh, shit,” Heath’s voice was hushed and a little garbled as they transmitted from inside the confines of the warship.
Fang relayed instructions. “Execute Objective One,” he stressed, checking and securing the transmission. The team needed to find a slot and plant the Trojan. “That is your first priority.”
“Copy,” came the reply. The tension in Heath’s voice was clear. Drake didn’t blame him. Here was a seasoned operator, and he was about to board an alien dreadnought.
Oh Shit was right.
Things were about to get real.
**
Heath wat
ched in fascinated fear as Zac jumped from the lander into the massive hold of the Kel dreadnought, green-lit and foreboding, itching for the fight. The rest of the team formed up hurriedly behind him as a squad of armored Kel ran into view across the bay, coming in on an angle, guns up and tracking.
Zac swiveled the chain-gun at his hip ...
BRRRRRIIIIIIPPPPP!!!! it thundered in the giant space, muzzle spitting white fire; trigger up, trigger down—BRRRRIIIIIPPP!!!—and again—BRRRRIIIIIIPPPPP!!!!—thudding zipper-bursts that strobed the green light of the hold with harsh lightning. Erratic shadows flashed across every surface as Zac triggered sharply left and right, hammering the running squad of Kel with relentless kinetic death. A few frantic return shots singed the air but were wild—and brief—armored bodies scattering before the brutal assault of the Minigun, rifles and at least three helmets flying as the enemy died in a spray of gore and tangled limbs.
“Yeah!” Pete was pumping a fist as Zac shut it down and the barrel spun to a lock. “Yeah!” His shouts were muffled through the HALO mask even as they spiked the radio. He looked to the rest of the team: “You see that?!” Behind his mask and mirrored goggles Pete was expressionless, yet there was no mistaking his enthusiasm. “Come on! We’re on an alien ship, green lights and all, and we got Superman shredding the Dark Elf army with a frickin gat! Like the goddamn Terminator! Come on!
“Tell me that ain’t every kick-ass movie you ever seen!”
Heath had to admit it was kind of awesome.
He got things moving. “Let’s go.” The team formed up in Zac’s wake, standard, ingrained positioning, guns up, following the brutally swift carnage laid down by the big man. “There,” Heath pointed with one hand, the other holding the Kel rifle at the ready. Zac led off in the direction indicated, the small team of SAS and American operators in his wake, checking all directions in concert, all places from which death could come rushing.
Star Angel: Prophecy Page 39
