by C. C. Ekeke
“Irazu,” Honaa hissed. Habraum had done this call sign declaration with his past combat team just before their first field mission. Good to see some things haven’t changed. Honaa had used the call sign ‘Irazu’ for years as an ode to Irazu Novshnii, one of Rothor IV’s greatest soldiers and legendary hero of the First Terminus War over a century ago. A clichéd codename for a Rothorid soldier, but still tried and true.
“Khrome,” Khrome said.
“Beyond original,” Tyris snarked.
Khrome eyed him wryly. “Is that an insult or your actual codename?”
“Hush, you and you,” Sam chided both of them.
“Crescendo,” Liliana continued, visibly self-conscious saying the codename.
“Arcturus,” Tyris finished up, his dark beady orbs flicking about.
“Brilliant.” Habraum began to pace around. “As you know from Union Intelligence reports, a new incarnation of the Korvenite Independence Front is staging guerilla attacks on Korvenite internment camps, as well as Union memberworlds and colonies with high human populations. Irazu?”
Honaa slid a datacard out from his utility belt and into a bridge table port. After pressing a few buttons, new visuals appeared, a cartographical display of the eighty-five memberworlds in Union Space. A sixth of them were highlighted, showing KIF attacks near those planets. The Rothorid noticed the grim faces at the table upon seeing which worlds were attacked.
“Now,” Habraum started as he came to a halt just behind V’Korram. “With the Galactic Union and Kedri Imperium Trade Merger weeks from becoming official, UComm higher-ups and the Chouncilor himself explicitly want this situation handled. It’s the primary reason we’re holding this field exercise; to run mock HLHG simulations and then brainstorm on the most relevant questions: How does the KIF have such free access to Union Space? Where are they getting their tech? And how do we stop them?”
Honaa scowled. He recalled similar tactical meetings about Korvenite terrorists almost three years ago. He and a few now-inactive Brigadiers had been chosen to work with Union Command to deal with the first KIF incarnation.
Back then, Honaa saw the KIF as a ragtag guerilla faction. Their technology, weaponry and space vessels were laughably outdated. This quelled none of that fiery zeal for the freedom of their species, or the fact that they had outsmarted the Union for many months before finally being contained. Their leader, Maelstrom, had a passion, a fire in his tirades that made him respected and reviled in equal quantity all over the Union. But his undying hatred for earthborn humans, and the slaughter he brazenly brought down on innocents, erased any sympathy for the Korvenite cause among Unionists.
Despite all that, Honaa almost regretted helping to kill the Korvenite. One couldn’t help but respect a terrorist leader who had successfully outmaneuvered a star-spanning hyperpower like the Galactic Union for so many months. A movement from the corner of his eye brought Honaa back to the present.
“Yes, Arcturus?”
“Capta—Reign,” the Tanoeen corrected himself. “Why doesn’t PSIAGE handle this problem?”
“Yeah,” Khrome chimed in, “that would make sense, given that it’s the Union’s psionics agency.”
Instead of answering himself, Habraum turned to Liliana Cortes with a pointed and expectant look.
“Oh-uh. It’s quite simple, Khrome.” Liliana replied, avoiding his gaze. What in the nine hellsss was she doing here? Honaa thought to himself. A few words easily described this rookie.
The way she sat in her seat? Scared. How she responded in anything other than her primary craft? Self-doubting. Habraum and Sam saw something in this weakling that Honaa clearly missed.
“PSIAGE is mainly human telepaths, and always had problems mindreading Korvenites. Their psionics operate differently. The same goes for many other telepathic species. Only the peace-loving Kudobans have been effective against the Korvenites.”
“And honestly,” Sam added. “PSIAGE, as part of Section M, never had their shit together.”
“But Union Command hasss been using various psssychic dampening technologies sssimilar to the onesss in their Korvenite internment camps,” Honaa began, looking around the table. “Mainly to protect ssoldierss when engaging Korvenites, which we will have to get from the UComm.”
“Oh Irazu, have you no faith in your favorite Brigade tech?” Khrome lounged back, grinning roguishly. “I saw UComm’s deflector technology. Two words: archaic and extremely archaic.”
Liliana frowned. “That’s four words—.”
“Hush and observe the infotainment!” Khrome leaned forward, tossing small metal objects to everyone at the table. Honaa caught one and took a closer look. The gadget was a thin pliable metal sphere that could sit on the ball of a human index finger.
V’Korram scanned the device and his green-flecked eyes glittered with displeasure. “Another of your inane pranks, Khrome?” he snarled.
“Of course it isn’t a prank furball—er, Jakadda,” scoffed Khrome. He tossed up the remaining gizmo in his hand and caught it behind his back. “A smaller, better version of the psionic deflecting technology Irazu was talking about. It goes behind the ear,” the Thulican demonstrated, “and creates a small deflector shield around the brain. Aside from being virtually undetectable, it deflects psionic attacks and makes it hard for Korvenites to read or detect us. The forcefield has much more integrity and resistance than the ones created by the UComm techies.” Khrome punched in a few buttons on the bridge table, bringing up a diagram of the Phaeton. “I also integrated a similar damper into the Phaeton just last night.”
Habraum looked genuinely impressed. He glanced at the psi-damper in his hand and then to Khrome with raised eyebrows. “Dazzling work.”
“Captain,” Liddell cut in from the helm. “I’m picking up a distress call from somewhere in this asteroid field. It’s been on repeat forty macroms before our arrival.”
Surprise crossed Habraum’s rugged features for a moment, replaced by a mask of professional stoicism. Going on instincts honed by several years with the Brigade, Honaa sprang on his feet and rushed to the helm. Everyone else moved with similar briskness to their stations on the ship. “Send the transmission through,” Habraum replied tersely. What appeared on the viewscreen was a middle-aged human dressed in the light-armored outfit of a miner. He looked gaunt and frightened, his face dripping in blood and sweat. A pale shaft of light off-screen barely revealed his features.
“Whoever gets this, pl-please help! The blekdritts are killing all the humans and pilfering our ore. H-hurry—.” He snapped his head to the left.
A strange, sweet-sounding dialect filled the bridge from off-screen. Throbs of jade light washed over the human. He let out a horrible shriek—and streaks of dark crimson sprayed the screen.
A humming static followed before the viewscreen—bloodstains and all—winked out. An uncomfortable silence hovered over the Phaeton’s bridge.
Revulsion seeped through Honaa’s frame. But the human’s murder wasn’t what got to him. The strange dialect just before sounded far too familiar—melodic to the ear. He turned to see Habraum standing before his command chair, stone-faced but with hazel-gold eyes flashing angrily. “Heatstroke,” he turned to Sam’s comm station.
“It came from those six larger asteroids in the Barsulae Belt about five hundred hektametrids starboard,” she responded instantly, staring intently at her console’s viewscreen. “But my biggest concern?” The Commander turned to face her superior directly. “That was Korcei we heard back there.”
The scales on Honaa’s hide rippled. Korcei.
“Of course, blekdritt,” Habraum wore a look of dawning recognition at the Korvenite racial slur.
V’Korram’s eyes raked over the bridge in sweeping arcs. “Another KIF assault,” he growled quietly.
“Contact Cercidale’s UComm branch,” Habraum nodded to Sam again. “And any vessel nearby—.”
“Already tried,” Sam cut in tersely. “We’re being jammed by someth
ing near that asteroids cluster.”
“Oh.” Habraum frowned, the taste of that answer not agreeing with him. “Thoughts Irazu?”
Honaa raised his tail overhead and flip-flopped it back and forth in the reptilian equivalent of a shrug. He knew what needed to happen, but decided to abbreviate his zeal on the matter. “It’sss a no-win situation. We don’t know how far their jamming sssignal reaches, ssso we can’t get out of range.” Honaa then let his muzzle curve into a smile that showed sharp, needlelike teeth. “Unlessss we want to finally get a ssstart on thwarting the KIF. Plussss, there may be sssurvivors in thossse asteroid foundries.”
Again Habraum rubbed his goatee in deep thought, slowly pacing. The laidback manner from moments early had vanished. Honaa could have sworn the Cerc muttered, “Too soon. Too soon,” under his breath before finally saying, “Take us in then. Raise deflector shields and keep us under stealth mode.”
Honaa curled his tail in satisfaction, his smile showing needle-like teeth. Experience taught Sam and Habraum to hide their nerves. V’Korram grinned savagely at the news. What didn’t surprise the Rothorid was how terrified Ensign Cortes looked, grabbing the edge of the bridge table for dear life. Even the wise-cracking Khrome appeared nervous as he muttered to an equally anxious Tyris.
Next to him Ensign Liddell went pasty white, but continued working in sync with Honaa and guided the Phaeton to starboard. No training drills today. Star Brigade would be engaging the real enemy.
Half an orv later, Phaeton floated before the asteroid cluster in the Barsulae Belt where the signal originated. All six asteroids, which Sam had identified as owned by VanoTech Corp, were joined by various circuitous columns weaving in and out of each like a mesh, most likely to transport new ores throughout the foundry. The largest asteroid, grey and jagged in appearance, had various angular pseudo-structures and apertures jutting out of countless areas, which covered more than half of the asteroid. The mining operation looked like it should be bustling with activity and export ships. Except it was deserted.
“Anything?” asked Habraum as he paced back and forth. His hazel-gold eyes were constantly moving, scanning every screen on the bridge with so much as a flash of data.
“Nothing, Reign,” Khrome replied, with a more serious tone. “No readings of mining or even an active defense system. It’s as if the whole mining ops has shut down or gone into standby mode.”
“Answer me this,” Habraum mused. “Why are the Korvenites interested in a mineral foundry?”
“The main mineral of this mine, Sollunium, is integral in the Korvanes monoliths on Terra Sollus,” Liliana answered, calmer now than in the beginning of the trip.
“So they came all the way out here just to get rocks for statues?” Habraum looked at her skeptically.
“Well—uh,” the doctor flushed red. “Th-that is their main purpose from what I understand.”
“Reign, since we’re a UComm vessel, the mining foundry’s defenses shouldn’t be an issue,” Khrome chimed in as his friend stammered, which Honaa couldn’t have liked him more for. “Arcturus and I will scan for vessel emissions. See who’s visited.”
Nwosu nodded. “Make it happen, Khrome,” he turned to Sam. “Heatstroke, that jamming signal—.”
“Working on it, chief,” Sam called lazily over her shoulder, before the Cerc even finished.
Years of working together told Honaa that Habraum’s impatience was a cover whenever dealing with an onslaught of anxieties. Leading an untried team on their first live mission—an impromptu one for that matter—could do that to even the most seasoned soldier. Add to this being Habraum’s first mission since Beridaas…Honaa could only imagine where his head was at.
The Rothorid himself felt mentally prepared. But physical issues still troubled him. Another serious power glitch occurred during their last training session, the second one this month. At the time Honaa had played it off as rustiness. And if it happens during this investigation? With everyone bustling about the bridge, Honaa focused and pressed his clawed hand straight through the right armrest of his chair. As expected, his hand phased right through the armrest. He sighed in relief and pulled his hand back up.
As Khrome and Tyris huddled in their array area, toying with scanning frequencies, Honaa stared back at the mining construct framed against unending pitch-black. To the naked eye there sat a vacant facility surrounded by asteroids. Honaa, however, saw a whole arena for the KIF to play with.
Where are you Korvenites hiding? The Rothorid propped his balled-up talons under his diamond-shaped muzzle. In the past, the KIF used asteroid fields to lure UComm forces into ambushes. Or maybe, Honaa supposed, the Korvenites had already left and placed the partial transmission as red herrings.
“Irazu, sir,” Liddell’s low voice pulled Honaa from his thoughts. The other pilot was pointing to his readouts with a puzzled stare. “I’m reading several unidentified energy ripples on an intercept course.”
Honaa looked at his own console and caught blinking from the energy readings. Odd, he thought to himself, seeing nothing except the foundry construct floating in vast and empty space. The Rothorid captain did a double take, right as the proximity alarms began screeching.
“What is it Irazu?” Habraum asked, reaching helm control with long and quick strides. Onscreen the unknown ripples materialized into eight missiles—surrounding the Phaeton!
“Captain, incoming!” his shrill hiss snapped the Cerc’s attention to the viewscreen.
Tyris’ beady eyes grew impossibly wide when he recognized the threat. “Multiple cloaked z-bombs sir!”
“Evasive maneuvers—,” was all Habraum could get out…
…right before the z-bombs plowed into the Phaeton. The ship’s defensive systems were some of the finest in the Union Command Armada, but it didn’t really matter against a z-bomb. On impact these missiles released an eruption of protoseismic energy. The resulting shockwaves it produced quickly depleted a ship’s shielding while causing maximum structural damage.
Anything and anyone onboard Phaeton not secured got thrown around like rag dolls. The ship lights flickered momentarily. Habraum was just getting into his chair when a vicious shockwave threw him backward into V’Korram, sending both to the ground in a heap. Sam went flying out of her place at the comm station. Tyris toppled over and skid across the bridge, hitting the base of the bridge table with a sharp clink. Liliana clung frantically to her seat, the buckling boom of the Phaeton drowning out her scream.
The only thing keeping Honaa seated was wrapping his muscular tail around the helm seat. But even then, he was jostled roughly from side-to-side. Beside him Liddell was unconscious, a nasty gash on his forehead, the safety belt the only thing keeping him seated. Panic knifed through Honaa, but only for a moment. The Rothorid forced himself to swallow that bone-deep fear, and reclaim his composure. He righted himself and leaned over to pull the unconscious pilot off the flight console.
“Ensssign, can you hear me?” That distraction cost him and the Phaeton dearly.
THADOOM! Again and again the ship shook, implacably drilled by z-bombs one after another.
One bomb struck from portside, quaking Phaeton to its core. Another walloped topside. The invisible assault persisted, knocking the UComm attack cruiser into a tailspin. Honaa returned focus to the ship’s helm, tuning out the calamity everywhere, clacking his talons across the flight consoles to regain control. The Rothorid stared at the screeching readouts, then the viewscreen. Shields were nearly gone, the primary stellar drives unresponsive.
Ancient creases of a titanic asteroid dominated the screen, rushing up too close far too fast.
“Come on, come on!” Honaa desperately tried pulling the ship back on a straight path.
Yet the Phaeton continued to plummet, out of control, toward the face of the asteroid—just as four more z-bombs streaked forward to meet the ship head-on.
21.
The galaxy’s milky core glowed and churned, its spiral as continuous as it w
as mesmerizing. In that center was an infinite ocean of sights, sounds, tastes and other sensations experienced by the Milky Way’s countless inhabitants. These sensations coursed through Maelstrom like a turbulent river.
Maelstrom floated beside a long viewport, watching from within a domed section of the Libremancer. The room he resided in resembled an arcature, a Korvenite place of worship. Beyond that pane of glassteel lay a sweeping panorama of the Milky Way’s galactic hub. The llyriac was the conduit of a Unilink to his Korvenite brethren, entwining and connecting their minds, displaying the wonders of the universe his species had been denied for so long. Below him in the arcature sat a flock of Korvenites he’d just rescued from slavery. Hundreds were linked to their leader, united in thought. Maelstrom stretched his senses even further. He came upon a microscopic coagulation of gases churning, expanding at an unchecked rate. The mixture kept swelling, finally taking up all of the immediate vicinity with no sign of slowing. A dazzling and unsullied energy swelled up in these gases, burning hotter, brighter, almost too intense to behold—the birth of a star.
Wonder scorched through the Unilink from Korvenites formerly of Bimnorii’s rancid slave pens. [A protostar? How is that possible? I…we could almost touch….The universe is so beautiful…never knew Korvan created such splendor.] These thoughts, from Korvenites discovering their abilities, didn’t surprise him. Maelstrom projected calm into the Unilink, soothing his overawed congregation.
His intent was to guide these freed Korvenites toward a resolute commitment to Korvan’s Way—and the liberation of Sollus from the humans. The Libremancer had left Bimnorii a week ago. With the ship still far from the Galactic Union Nucleus and shrouded from detection, Maelstrom felt that a workout of his followers’ Mindspeak would be harmless.
[Witness the grand beauties of this galaxy, all creations of Korvan Above.]
Maelstrom smiled at his followers, spreading his arms. [Just like the star is created from former celestial bodies, so will our world be from the soon-dead Galactic Union. Such is Korvan’s will.]
