Alien Revolt

by Tracy St. John

  Hope answered for the group. “It’s a terrible trade-off when I think of all those who died to stop the greater tragedy, but it had to be done. It’s over. For that, we’re glad. Did everyone get off the destroyer all right?”

  Kila’s voice was appropriately sober. “All of my crew is accounted for, Matara Hope. Thank you for asking. If I may add a personal note, I’m glad you were part of the effort which made this operation such a success.”

  “So am I.” She was going to miss the big, sexy lug. Him and his clanmates. They’d come to mean so much to her. All at once, Hope felt like crying.

  Kila continued to speak, “Admiral, the crew is ready to board the Walls of Jericho and move on to the next part of our mission. Everything is confirmed as proceeding with you as well?”

  “It is,” Piras said. “I only need to inform General Nath of our plans and see how he feels about his role in the coming months.”

  Hope saw the Dramok peek at her from the corner of his eye. He frowned a little, as if unsure how she fit into his schemes.

  Freedom. She wished it was hers to claim. If she could, she knew exactly where she would go.

  Chapter 21

  Rear Admiral Tranis mused over the latest war reports in his comfortable but sparsely decorated office. Perusing battle accounts was usually an onerous task for the handsome, bearded Dramok. Until a few days ago, the mood at Fleet Command near the capital city of Kalquor had been decidedly grim. The war had not been going well for the Empire.

  However, changes had come. Not precisely the shifts those loyal to the Empire had hoped for, but it had been good news just the same. They had arrived in time to give a boost to the morale of the fleet, the ground forces, and Kalquor in general. A renewed sense of purpose had been gained. Even Tranis, who smiled far too seldom for the liking of his clanmates, felt considerably brighter than he had in some time.

  His office, decorated with a few portraits of his clan and a prized kurble ball which sat on his utilitarian metal desk, had never been the hub of social activity. Yet these past few days had seen more frequent instances of fellow admirals sticking their heads in. They’d stopped by to say hello and enthuse about the recent events. Tranis, far more reserved than he had been as a younger man, couldn’t help but respond to the friendly overtures. Perhaps he didn’t grin as large as his fellow officers. Maybe he rarely laughed out loud with them. Yet he had begun to welcome these shared moments. Desperation turned to hope was a heady elixir.

  Only one matter darkened the otherwise bright atmosphere for Tranis. Learning about the deaths of heroes, men branded as traitors to the public, bothered him greatly. One loss in particular hurt him far more than he’d imagined possible. He wanted to think it was because it had affected his clanmate Lidon so deeply. After all, the man in question had once been a rival for his clanmate’s affections. Their relationship in later years had always been a guarded thing, a case of needing to get along rather than the actual wish to.

  Yet hearing of the destruction of Captain Kila’s destroyer had struck a blow to Tranis’s soul. Admiral Piras, his former superior, adversary, and co-conspirator against the Basma, had proven to be a personal loss. Tranis and Piras had rarely seen eye-to-eye, but they’d respected each other. Piras had been a remarkable officer, and in the end, a champion for the Empire. That few knew of his sacrifice was the real tragedy in Tranis’s mind, one he intended to rectify once the war was over. He couldn’t wait for the day when Piras’s true mission could be made known to the public.

  It would be even better to tell Lidon the truth about his former lover, though there would be no surprise when the time came. The Nobek refused to believe the story of Piras’s defection to the Basma’s side, though he didn’t speak of it to anyone but Tranis.

  “I know Piras. He could never be a traitor, not even if Maf put a knife to his mother’s throat,” Lidon had told him. “I have every idea Admiral Hobato sent Piras in as a spy. It’s the only logical explanation for what happened.”

  In the wake of Piras’s death, Tranis looked forward to confirming Lidon’s unwavering faith. He hoped it would soothe the loss his Nobek felt. Piras was not the Dramok Lidon had chosen to clan with or the one he had loved best. Still, they’d shared too much of a life together for the stoic Nobek to dismiss his former lover’s passing without pain.

  Such were the mingled thoughts of joy and tragedy as Tranis read over reports from the front lines almost a week after the threat against Haven and Rokan had ended. Good news continued from other parts of the Empire following the destruction of the Basma’s attack fleet near the two colonies.

  Overall, Tranis couldn’t complain about the current state of the war. Optimism, that rare and elusive creature, had taken root in his soul, making him feel perhaps everything would turn out fine in the end. Even his vid screen abruptly going blank confused him rather than inciting irritation.

  His heart damned near stopped, however, when a line of text appeared on the floating hologram monitor: I have a present for you from the Sword of Truth. Close your office door, turn on your sound blocker, and please don’t shoot the messenger.

  Tranis stared at the blue characters floating against the black background. “What the fuck?” he whispered. Hope abruptly surged—but no, it wasn’t possible.

  Was it?

  In a louder voice, Tranis called, “Door close and lock.” He settled one hand on the blaster he wore on his hip, in case his wish was as irrational as it should be. The admiral turned on the sound blocker sitting on his desk. Its steady hum filled the room.

  The next instant, two men appeared on the other side of his desk out of thin air. Neither was the man Tranis had hoped to see. They were both Earthers, both familiar somehow, though his startled brain refused to supply him with names.

  Then he recognized them both, and Tranis jumped to his feet with a cry. “Browning Copeland! General Borey Nath!”

  Nath nodded to Tranis’s hand gripping the blaster. The Dramok had brought it up to bear on them, reacting with instinct. “You don’t need the weapon, Admiral Tranis, but go ahead and continue to point it at me if it will make you feel better. I assure you, however, we’re on the same side.”

  Tranis stared at him. Nath, proud in his uniform, appeared to have no weapon on his person. Copeland seemed even more helpless and quite worse for wear, though it was apparent some care had been expended on him. His clothing was the clean uniform of a Kalquorian fleet crewman, though the black fabric hung off his spare frame. The arms and legs had been rolled up, and his hands and bare feet were pale and knotted with blue veins. His white hair hung about a dispirited face which was far older than the latest vids had shown. Older and bruised. Someone had been pounding on the Earther, and no one had bothered to heal the injuries.

  Tranis looked for pity in his heart for the elderly man’s state, but he couldn’t find it. Copeland had done too much damage to too many people. Tranis didn’t think of himself as ruthless, but he took an uncomfortable measure of joy in seeing the so-called Voice of God get a little of the damage he was due.

  He narrowed his gaze at the Holy Leader. “You’re supposed to be dead. The destroyer Admiral Piras was on exploded, along with your battlecruiser. Some say they crashed into each other. Other reports—well, we know for sure both vessels exploded, and all those on board them were counted as lost.”

  Copeland’s blue-eyed gaze was filled with hate. “God has seen fit to spare me so I may yet raise a legion against your unholy kind and win in the end.”

  “Admiral Piras and I spared you, so you could get at least a fraction of what’s coming to you,” Nath snorted at the older Earther. He directed his attention to Tranis. “We spirited Copeland off the Sword of Truth before Captain Kila destroyed both ships. We thought Piras, Kila, and their crew might be more effective in continuing their mission if Maf thought them all dead. As far as Copeland’s future is concerned, the admiral defers to the Fleet Admiral.”

  Tranis stared at the general in disbelie
f. Then a glow warmed his gut, and he dared to contemplate the impossible. “Admiral Piras is alive? And his entire crew?”

  Nath smiled broadly. “Very much so. Who do you think brought us in here? By the way, Piras wants to know how you could have given his office to Admiral Critan. He says, and I quote so you don’t get offended with me, ‘That foolish old loudmouth doesn’t deserve such a nice office.’”

  Tranis closed his eyes and thanked the ancestors. A comment like that was vintage Piras. He broke into chuckles. “Piras, you temperamental ass. I’m so glad you made it out alive.”

  “I don’t think he’s still here,” the Earther general said, snickering a little before sobering again. “He said he would stick around long enough to be sure you didn’t shoot me on sight. Thank you for being the thoughtful man he said you are. I appreciate you not blasting first and asking questions later. Oh yes, you’ll want to confiscate these personal phase devices.”

  Nath pulled a small silver piece off the breast of his uniform and took one off Copeland as well. He tossed them on Tranis’s desk, where they clattered with ringing sounds.

  “Fully operational self-contained phase devices,” Tranis breathed. He picked one up and turned it over in his scarred hands. “I don’t suppose Piras wants to share the destroyer-grade specifications?”

  Nath shook his head. “He’s worried there continues to be spy activity in the fleet, so no. He doesn’t want Maf getting his hands on it. He’s nervous enough about you having the personal versions. However—” Nath darted a glance at Copeland and shook his head.

  Tranis jerked his head to one side so they could whisper out of the Holy Leader’s earshot. “Don’t move,” he growled at the Earther.

  “Fuck you. I’m sitting down,” the man peevishly whined. He dropped into one of the hover chairs Tranis kept for visitors.

  Tranis and Nath moved close to the door, where the admiral was sure Copeland wouldn’t overhear. The general whispered, “Your forces were able to take four intact battlecruisers on which phase devices were installed. Piras hopes you will demolish those rather than search for the technology. If there are spies working for the Basma, and they get to those mechanisms—” He let the warning hang in the air.

  “You’re right,” Tranis said. “They would do a lot of good on our side of the fleet. However, the damage if Maf gets hold of them isn’t worth the risk. It’s up to Admiral Hobato, but I’ll make the recommendation that we either hide or destroy them. At the very least, we should hold off revealing their existence. As well as these personal devices.”

  Nath appeared relieved. “I’m more than happy to give you all information I know about the Basma and his movements, as well as the last reports I received from the battlecruisers he still has.”

  “Excellent. Your assistance will be greatly appreciated. I don’t suppose you know what Piras’s next move is?” Tranis burned with curiosity that had little to do with his official duties.

  “Only that he remains under the guidelines Fleet Admiral Hobato established at the start of the mission.”

  Tranis sighed. “Keeping us out of the loop in order to afford us deniability.”

  “Correct.”

  “Before we go any further, I’d better call in Admiral Hobato.”

  Nath kept his tone even, but Tranis detected a tension within it. “How do you think I and Copeland will be handled?”

  “In the future, Copeland will have to answer for many crimes. It looks like someone already started acting on his punishment.”

  Nath’s face worked. Tranis thought the Earther was trying not to laugh. “His wives wanted vengeance. Certain guards on Kila’s crew had a habit of letting them into Copeland’s cell to do so. Multiple times.”

  Tranis blinked. “Wives? As in more than one? That’s not the Earther way.”

  “It was his. He took a great deal of advantage of his power. He hurt many girls and would have hurt many more. I regret I could not have stopped him sooner.” Nath’s humor vanished, and his gaze on the Holy Leader held a savagery Tranis hadn’t often seen in Earthers. It was clear to the admiral that Nath hated Copeland.

  “I’m surprised he was allowed to live.”

  “We agreed there was a chance he might be able to offer your fleet information you need. It almost didn’t happen when the women decided to remove his most offensive part.”

  Tranis’s eyes widened. “You mean—”

  “Kila’s medical staff offered to reattach it once he was stabilized and out of danger of dying. The vote went against putting him back together. Copeland is not quite the man he used to be.”

  It was Tranis’s turn to fight off laughter. Nath apparently recognized his struggle and grinned.

  After taking a moment to recover, Tranis got back to business. “I suppose you will be under investigation as well. Your name is well known to us as Copeland’s main officer. For now, it might be best to keep you both officially dead.” He regarded the man before him. General Nath had the bearing of a noble man. That Piras had worked with him would put his disposition with the Fleet Admiral and the Imperial Clan in a good light. “I’m sure you have a lot of helpful information for us. I do have to ask, General, what turned you against this man?” He nodded to the hunched Copeland.

  “First, my conscience. My wife’s influence solidified my belief that our government had gone wrong. Finally, the births my two daughters convinced me to act. I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time, the day I could at last call Browning Copeland finished.”

  “Your wife and daughters. Are they—?”

  “My wife died during Armageddon. My daughters, thank the prophets, are alive and well. I expect they’ll be turning up in Galactic Council space in the next month or so, along with other refugees from the Sword of Truth.” Nath’s proud bearing grew prouder still. “My eldest daughter was of great assistance to Admiral Piras in coding Maf’s destroyers to turn on each other. I hope it will be taken into consideration when she’s investigated.”

  “Why would she be investigated?”

  “You’ll find her name on the confiscated staff list. She was part of the rogue Earther fleet’s codebreaking department, at my direction. Her presence there made it possible for me and my allies to pass messages without Copeland being aware.”

  Tranis’s estimation of Nath grew. “I’ll see to it that her help on behalf of our side is entered into record. On a personal note, I’m glad she was with us.”

  Nath’s face split into a wide grin. “Thank your ancestors night and day, Admiral. She’s a formidable opponent. I daresay my youngest will be too, if her journey through the teenage years doesn’t destroy us all first.”

  Tranis laughed and clapped a hand on his shoulder. He could tell he was going to like working with Borey Nath. “General, thank you for helping keep Rokan, and especially Haven, safe from the Basma. The fates of those women and children have weighed heavily on us.”

  “I know the feeling, Admiral.”

  Tranis didn’t miss how Nath’s gaze darted to the still hunched figure of Browning Copeland. Or the moment of vicious hatred which darted over his face.

  Yes, he was sure the general did have an idea or two about keeping women and children safe from monsters.

  Chapter 22

  Piras, Kila, and Lokmi prowled the field of a moon station known officially as the Center for Reclamation and Re-use. It was a fancy name for what amounted to little more than a salvage facility. To most fleet personnel, it had yet another name: the Boneyard.

  They walked within a massive containment bubble which provided a breathable atmosphere and livable conditions on the otherwise lifeless rock. The Boneyard resided in a corner of the Empire, close to its borders with Galactic Council and Bi’is space. Acres of de-commissioned vessels stretched as far as the eye could see beneath the eternal starry night. Some ships were intact for the most part; others had been stripped as need for parts or metal occurred. In the distance, the clanging of distant robotic machinery carried
to the phased crew of Kila’s destroyer. The men, particularly the engineering staff, eyed their potential prizes with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

  Piras looked over the section of the Boneyard which had seemed most likely to fit their needs. He grinned with the enthusiasm of a kid about to realize a dream. He’d always loved the idea, though not the reality, of captaining a raider. That part of the fleet, now relegated to the history of Kalquor, had been the refuge of the most ferocious element of the force’s personnel. The raiders had been the province of Nobeks as much as the aggressive ground forces were. They had a long past filled with legendary battles, brutal fighting, and crews of men who were larger than life. To most boys who’d grown up on Kalquor, raiders were the epitome of adventure. The tales of daring raider crews who cared little for rules, who fought off enemies and courted death, had inspired many a lad in his play and fantasies.

  Piras had grown up in far too civilized of circumstances to have dared to captain a raider during his fleet career. He might have been labeled the Terror of the Fleet by those who had invited his brutal temper, but he felt sure he was not the equal of the fearsome men who had crewed the raiders. Fiercely independent and hateful of authority, only men adept with fists, weapons, and unchecked bloodthirstiness could hope to lead such groups.

  Knowing the true brutality of the Nobek-centric raider fleet, Piras nevertheless felt great anticipation when he thought of climbing on board one of the small but quick ships, of flying on a vessel meant to attack and destroy all enemies without regard for personal safety. Though the deadlier destroyers had more fighting power and the one- and two-man fighters were far faster—elements which had sounded the death knell for the older raiders—it was the romance attached to the Empire’s first real fighting ships that made his heart quicken. He noted how Mostar wandered among the grounded vessels, the usually unimpressed visage of the Nobek lighting with a hint of worshipful awe. He’d left it to Subcommander Nived to inspect the security vid recorders. Mostar’s younger second paid no attention to the raiders, focused on determining how best to set the recorders on an endless loop of reporting an unmolested salvage yard. They’d need to keep their presence a secret from the only living beings assigned to the automated facility, three guards who worked in shifts.