by Chris Fox
“And how do you plan to retake the station?” the governor snapped. His watery green eyes narrowed. “If we leave the asteroids, we have to face the Wyrms unprotected. You must have seen the missive we sent. You know what will happen to the remains of our fleet.”
“I realize that.” Voria ceased her pacing. “That’s why my people are going to take care of it. We’ll seize that station. You refit, and get ready to aid your people on the surface. We need to get down there. Be ready.”
All three officials looked surprised by that, and it was the woman who finally spoke. “You’re a gods-damned hero in my book, Voria, as big as your legend. I still remember seeing you fight at Vakera. If you can pull this off—if you can get that station back—then we’ll be ready to crush Nebiat on the surface. Dreadlords bleed, too, and we’re bringing that bitch down.”
“Wonderful. After we meet with the Consortium, we’ll begin our assault. Major Voria, out.” Voria nodded respectfully, then Crewes terminated their connection. Voria looked at her assembled officers. “We have one last stop to make, but I promise you’ll enjoy this one. We’re going to be picking up a whole load of new toys.”
Crewes dabbed at his eye and his voice rose a full octave. “We’re getting healing potions, and new guns?” He cleared his throat. “I think I’m going to need a minute.”
“Sir, are you crying?” Aran asked.
“No,” Crewes growled. More tears fell. “Now you wipes get down to the hangar.”
“Aran,” Voria said, pulling attention from an embarrassed Crewes. “I’ll have a dress uniform sent to your barracks. Get dressed as quickly as possible and meet me at the airlock.”
25
Kazon
Aran adjusted the parade uniform the major had provided. The collar was too high, the jacket too confining. The sky-blue fabric restricted movement enough to be a real hazard in combat.
“You look passable enough. Stop fidgeting,” Voria ordered.
She strode briskly up the corridor, and Aran hurried to keep up. He hadn’t been to this section of the Wyrm Hunter. They passed a single technician bent over an exposed conduit, yanking wires from the wall. Voria said nothing, so Aran ignored the man.
“Sir, where are we going?” Aran asked, infusing the request with respect. She’d earned that much from him after leading them against Kheftut.
“We’re meeting with the richest matron in the Inuran Consortium. She’s here to retrieve her son, the man you rescued.” The major patted her satchel, where Aran assumed she was carrying the sleeping hedgehog. “You started this, I think it fitting you see it to its end. Kazon only survived because of you.”
“I owe him my life as much as he owes me his,” Aran said, remembering the brief fight with Yorrak. “Kazon was my only ally, and the only reason I lived. It could have just as easily been me that got ‘morphed.”
The corridor narrowed, finally ending at a large steel airlock door with a small porthole cut right above the center. Aran could see several figures standing inside the airlock. Voria waved a hand, and the steel door rose silently into the ceiling.
The major executed a perfect bow. “Hello, Matron Jolene. Thank you for coming to meet me.”
Jolene looked a great deal like the major, with the same high cheekbones and chestnut hair, though hers had been cut to a severe—and very unflattering—stubble.
“This is one of my tech mages, Private Aran.”
“I don’t care about your subordinates,” the matron snapped, her mouth tightening. “Let’s get this over with. Where is your brother?”
“Brother?” Aran asked, before he could stop himself.
Fortunately, both women ignored him. Voria reached into her pouch and handed over the sleeping hedgehog. It curled in on itself, fluffing up its fur as it settled into Jolene’s hand.
“You’re right about the ’morph,” Jolene murmured, studying the hedgehog. “This is one of the most powerful I’ve seen. This will take a moment.” Jolene raised a single delicate finger, and sketched a fiery symbol in the air. She added a dream, then a water. The sigils piled up, swirling about in a way that made them difficult to track. Finally, the sigils drew in on each other, growing into a nimbus of light above the hedgehog.
When that light faded Jolene quickly set the hedgehog down on the floor and took a large step backward. The hedgehog’s body rippled as the spell Yorrak had cast was slowly reversed. Perhaps half a dozen heartbeats later, the bearded—and very naked—man lay where the hedgehog had been.
He blinked sleepily awake, sitting up. Seeing his surroundings, he flipped to his feet with a roar, spinning to put his back to Aran. “Stand with me again, brother. Where are we? What happened to the bald mage?”
“It’s all right,” Aran said. “We killed Yorrak. You’re safe now.”
Kazon, still ready for a fight, shot Aran a look. “Who are these women?”
“I am your mother,” snapped Jolene. “And mind-wipe or no, I will not allow such behavior. I’ve come a long way to find you, and that’s taken me away from legitimate business for entirely too long. We’re going home, and we’re going to salvage as much of your memory as we can.”
“Why should I trust you?” Kazon demanded. His legs tensed, and Aran recognized a man who was about to run.
“Because you have little choice,” Jolene said. Her eyes narrowed. “My patience is wearing thin, Kazon.”
“Kazon. That’s my real name?” He looked to Aran for verification.
“So far as I know,” Aran said. “That woman is your mother, and I guess Major Voria here is your sister.”
“That’s right,” Voria confirmed. “Kazon, I know you’re confused, and the gods know I wouldn’t want to go with Mother either. I’m sorry for this, but I had to do it.”
“What do you mean?” Kazon asked, suspiciously.
“She sold you, to me,” Jolene interjected, fixing Voria with an amused smile.
“You sold me?” Kazon asked. “And you’re my sister?”
“Half-sister, and I didn’t sell you.” Voria sighed. “Mother put out a contract paying anyone who could recover you. I merely took the contract. I’m sorry, Kazon. My battalion needs the weapons, and this was the only way to get the Consortium to provide them. Without these, there’s no way we’ll be able to liberate Marid. This means saving millions of lives. I hope you understand.”
Kazon eyed her searchingly for long moments. “If you’re being honest, and I believe you are, then your intentions are noble. I’m willing to go with this woman—my mother, I guess. Provided you give me some clothes, and a moment to thank the man who rescued me.”
“Good,” the major said. “Now, Mother, about those weapons.”
Both women were clearly strong-willed, but the major’s usual confidence seemed lacking.
“You’ll get them.” Jolene waved a hand, and several pallets lifted into view. The came through the corridor leading back onto the Inuran vessel, floating inside the airlock, and then into the the corridor behind Aran. “Right now I have two pallets of smart rifles, a case of missiles, and enough ammunition to equip your thugs. Consider this a down payment until I can bring you the rest.”
“Mother, I need those weapons now. In case you haven’t noticed, the Krox are holding that station.” Voria pointed at the porthole, which showed the station bathed in the glow of the planet. An asteroid drifted past, briefly obscuring the view.
“I cannot simply wish them here. I am not a god,” Jolene snapped, her eyes blazing. “I promised them, and I will deliver them. The vessel carrying them won’t arrive until tomorrow evening. That’s the best I can offer.” She raised a hand, and it disappeared into a void pocket, emerging with a long jacket. She handed it to Kazon. “Cover up; you’re embarrassing yourself. Then say your goodbyes, and do it quickly. We have business to be about.”
Kazon shot Jolene a suspicious glare, then finally turned to Aran. “I don’t know you, not really. But I know you saved me, and you tried to save the othe
r slaves. If you hadn’t acted, I’d be dead. I owe you my life, and I promise I will find a way to pay you back, my friend.”
Kazon offered a hand, and Aran took it. “There’s no need for thanks. You’d did the same for me. I couldn’t have taken Yorrak alone.”
“Probably.” Kazon laughed. “But it doesn’t change what happened. I don’t know what the future holds for me, but if you survive and we meet again, we’ll share a drink.”
“If we survive.” Aran released Kazon’s hand and turned back to the major. The last of the pallets had already drifted onto the Hunter. “Take care of yourself, Kazon.”
“Take care of yourself, brother.” Kazon nodded respectfully, then turned and headed through the airlock into the Inuran ship.
26
Roll The Dice
Aran ducked into the war room, unsure what to expect. It had been constructed with a large crew in mind, with enough room for two or perhaps three dozen officers to gather at the round table dominating the room.
The size of the table made the smattering of people standing around the major appear that much more sparse, highlighting how outnumbered they were. The company was there, and Captain Thalas. And a grizzled man with a salt and pepper beard.
Aran studied the last of those. The man was perhaps fifty, his broad shoulders gone a little soft but impressive nonetheless. He wore forest-green fatigues, with a bulky pistol belted to his side. His arms were folded, and he stared at the major in a way that suggested he wanted her to know his patience was at an end.
The uniform was different from the Confederates, confirming what Aran had pieced together. Ternus had their own separate government, but from what Aran had seen they were also part of the Confederacy. He was pretty sure the blond officer who’d kicked his ass had been from Ternus, but beyond that wasn’t sure what separated them from the Shayans.
It would probably be a while before he started to grasp the complexities of Confederate politics. Of course, that wouldn’t be an issue if anyone had bothered to spend a little time explaining how they worked.
“Welcome, Private. Now that everyone’s here, we can discuss our strategy for boarding the station. This room is warded, so we can speak freely,” the major explained in her clear, powerful voice.
“A moment, please,” the grizzled man said, the words clipped in what Aran was coming to understand must be the Ternus accent. He reached into a pocket and withdrew a white pen, depressing a button on the end. “There. I’ve added a white noise generator to augment your wards. I know you trust your magic, but I’m more comfortable using something I know works.”
“Are you implying that our wards are insufficient?” Thalas asked. The words were delivered politely, but acid boiled up under every one.
“We welcome the additional security, Admiral Kerr,” the Major interjected smoothly. She gave Thalas a look that promised swift retribution, but if it swayed him at all, Aran certainly couldn’t tell. “Now then, the plan.”
“Apologies, Major. I have one more issue to resolve before we begin.” Kerr ran a hand through his hair, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “The planetary governor has requested you be arrested and censured, claiming they’ve received word from Confederate High Command. Now, obviously that isn’t going to happen. The Governor can’t give me orders, but he can tell my superiors. You’ve already bought us time, and my colleagues and I realize you are our only chance to take back that station. I’m doing the same for you, but I won’t be able to keep them off you forever.”
Thalas grew very interested at those words, and Aran didn’t at all like the predatory way he studied the major when she wasn’t looking. Nor did he fully understand what he was hearing. Why wasn’t Kerr trying to remove the Major from power? Maybe he considered it an internal Confederate matter. Or maybe he was just practical.
“So what is it you’re asking, then?” Voria folded her arms, all good humor vacating her expression.
“The governor wanted to be present for this meeting. I can patch him in using my portable communications array, if you are amicable.”
“I am not,” Voria snapped. Her eyes narrowed, and Aran flinched in spite of himself. Damn, she could be scary. “The entire point of planning this meeting in person is so it could not be anticipated or intercepted by our enemies. The governor is a civilian leader, is he not?”
“Yes, but ultimately Marid’s militia answers to him,” Kerr explained. “My superiors will expect me to include him in the meeting. I don’t like it, and I don’t like asking you to do it, but I have little choice.”
“That’s fair. You asked. I refused. We are fighting the Krox, Admiral. Do you understand what that means?” Voria asked coldly.
“Not entirely, no. This is the first time Ternus has faced them directly,” Kerr allowed. “We have a few veterans who tried to help Starn when the Krox overran it, but other than some battle footage I haven’t really seen what they can do.”
“I understand that your people embrace technology, and many mistrust magic.” Voria unfolded her arms, resting her palms on the table. “That doesn’t mean you should be ignorant of what it can do. The Krox are binders, Admiral. That binding can take many forms. They can bind spirits into the bodies of the dead, sending those corpses to kill their former companions. But they can also shackle the souls of the living. A binder can wrest control of your body away from you, forcing you to do terrible things to those you love. Or they can make you fall in love with them so completely that you will forsake your heart vow just to please them.”
“So you think the governor could be compromised?” Aran found himself saying. He blinked when everyone in the room looked at him. “I mean…that’s who I’d turn if I wanted the perfect spy.”
“Precisely,” Voria agreed. She nodded encouragingly at Aran. “I don’t suspect the governor of anything other than incompetence at the moment, but we will not allow anyone to hear information that could damage us unless we are absolutely positive they have not been bound. I had Sergeant Crewes inspect all of you when you entered the room, and he cleared everyone.”
The admiral nodded approvingly. “I can’t say I disagree with your strategy, Major. By showing us the plan in this room you guarantee that no one gets wind of it before it’s implemented. So what is that plan precisely?”
“The plan is fairly simple.” The major’s gaze roamed the room, resting briefly on Aran. “We are going to send our tech mages to the station, in secret. Captain Thalas will lead Sergeant Crewes, Aran, and Nara. They’ll bring a teleport beacon. Once they arrive, they’ll damage the station’s anti-teleport wards, then set up the beacon. We’ll open a portal and flood that station with our Marines, and set up our armor around the portal as a defensible permitter.”
“Won’t the Krox just turn their dragons on the station?” Aran asked. Again, everyone looked at him. “I’m sorry if I’m speaking out of turn. No one explained the protocol for these meetings.”
“I’m glad you’re showing initiative, Aran. We need more of that.” Voria nodded approvingly. “To answer your question: yes, the Krox would normally turn their dragons back on the station. However, if we provide a distraction, we might keep the dragons at bay long enough for the Ternus forces to launch a counterattack.”
“Okay, I see where this is going,” the admiral said, stroking his beard as he considered. “We can have our fleet waiting at the edge of the asteroid field. I still don’t think we can reach the station in time, though.”
“This plan is madness,” Thalas said. He shook his head sadly. “In the time it takes the fleet to stop cowering behind these rocks and engage the enemy, they’ll have already wiped out anyone on the station.”
“Unless the dragons are no longer at the station,” Voria said. She gave a grim smile, resting her palms on the table. “While the tech mage company is moving into position, the Wyrm Hunter and two Ternus ships will make a break for the surface. We’ll plot a trajectory to the place where the Krox landed. This will, I suspect, for
ce the dragons to leave the station and engage us.”
“If they all come they’ll overwhelm us,” Thalas protested. “Again, madness.”
“You use that word entirely too often, Captain.” Voria folded her arms again, eyes glittering coldly as she studied the Shayan. “The Hunter will be prepared to fall back. We have better speed than those Wyrms, so all we need to do is lead them away from the station. With Kheftut dead, none of the dragons can best us in a one on one fight, and they know it. That will make them hesitate, giving us the time we need.”
“And if your plan fails?” Thalas demanded.
“Then we will die in battle, like warriors,” Crewes barked, scowling darkly. It seemed to take him a moment to realize who he was talking to. “Uh, sir.”
“Admiral, do you have anything to add to the plan?” Voria asked, ignoring the exchange.
“No, I think this is the best plan we’ve got. There are several major points of failure, but we’re going to have to roll the dice and hope. You’ve got one hell of a reputation, Major—a reputation I saw upheld when you executed Kheftut today.” The Admiral gave Voria a respectful nod. “I’ll return to my ship, and get our fleet into position.”
“Excellent. I will ready my assault.” Voria turned back to the squad. “Thalas, take Crewes, Nara, and Aran and get set up. Bord, Kezia, report to the battle bridge.”
27
Closing Fast
“Listen up, wipes,” Crewes bellowed, stabbing a finger in Aran and Nara’s direction. “We are about to engage in your first real combat. If you screw this up, not only will you die, but everyone on that planet below will die. Do. Not. Screw. Up.”
