Again, Kane found himself surprised. That long? Who knew the jump gates could create a bridge so far? How much more was concealed, held close to the vest by the emperor?
A sadness fell over him as he gazed upon the emperor.
“Do not mourn for me,” the emperor said, seeming to read Kane’s mind. “In more ways than you will ever know, life is no more than a dream.” The emperor let out a soft breath. “And I have had a fine one. Mourn instead for the empire and the souls of the people who have died and those who will come to suffer in the dark years ahead.” The emperor’s tone hardened, and his eyes fairly blazed with intensity. “The rebels will win a victory today, but it will be a hollow one, pyrrhic. Their main fleet will be trapped here, and they, like the rest of the Sol System, will die a slow, lingering death. They will soon come to regret their choice, but by then it will be too late.”
The emperor stumbled. The hologram shimmered as it was briefly interrupted, then re-solidified. Kane knew the ship had been hit by something big, perhaps a ship-killer missile, or torpedo even. The shields were failing. In the background, decompression alarms and warnings blared.
“Follow your orders,” the emperor said, a strained look coming over him. “Search for that which must be found, for in doing so—just read the file. You will know the back a—”
The hologram froze, then came to life a few seconds later.
“—them by their ability to interact with the—”
The emperor stumbled again and almost fell. The image became fuzzy, freezing for a heartbeat. The emperor caught himself on something out of view.
“When you are in Heaven’s Gate,” the emperor said insistently, “open the file and follow the instructions. You must follow the instructions, for we have planned deeply for the fall of the empire. I cannot stress enough. Follow the instructions that have been provided, understand? If you do, humanity’s light will be rekindled. Do you hear me?”
The last was a shout, as there was a loud grinding sound that came over the transmission. Kane thought he could hear the scream of alarms and the whistling of air.
“Yes, Emperor,” Kane said, feeling hope for the first time since they had emerged into the system. “Serving you and the empire has been a privilege and the honor of my life.”
“Farewell, Admiral,” the emperor said, still shouting, “and dare I say, good luck, for you will need it. The task I have set you is far from easy.”
The hologram faded, leaving empty air in its place. The privacy field lifted several heartbeats later.
“Admiral,” the artificial intelligence said. “I have received a notification from the jump controller’s construct. We are cleared to initiate jump to a—the—a restricted zone. This is curious … very curious.”
Kane had never heard a construct seem surprised before, even one he had stripped of its personality settings. He found it unsettling.
“Coordinates for a place called Heaven’s Gate have been received,” the construct continued. “I have no record of this star system. I—I am unable to even track the coordinates to locate this place—its position within our galaxy. It seems there is a subroutine buried in my programming, locking me out. I apologize, Admiral, I am unable to alter it.” The AI paused for a few seconds, an eternity for its kind. “I am afraid I do not know this place.”
“No one does,” Kane said. “Well, almost no one. But there we will find friends. I am sure of it.”
He turned his gaze back to the holographic display tank. After traveling months to get here and fighting several battles along the way, he had his orders. Though they had just arrived, it was time to withdraw. Heaven’s Gate, wherever it was, would become a small beacon of light against the coming darkness. That was now his mission … well, whatever his ultimate orders turned out to be. He wondered if Heaven’s Gate would be enough of a beacon to eventually rekindle the light of humanity, as the emperor hoped. It all came down to faith. He had to believe that it would be just that.
“Captain Marku,” Kane said, his voice hardening as he opened the communication link to his flagship’s captain, “we will be withdrawing from the system, immediately.”
“What?” Marku was clearly shocked. His tone rang of it. “We won’t be engaging the enemy? Why the hell not? We came all this way just to run?”
“I have my orders directly from the emperor himself,” Kane said. “We are going to Heaven’s Gate.”
There was a moment of silence, then Marku sucked in a breath. “The refuge? I thought that was just rumor, a place of last resort, a fortress like none other.”
“Apparently Heaven’s Gate is very real,” Kane said. “Prepare the ship to jump. I believe we do not have much time. The system gate will shortly be deactivated.”
“Deactivated?” Marku asked. “How is that possible?”
“I don’t know,” Kane admitted. “It has something to do with the Infinity Controller.”
“Yes, sir.” Marku sounded regretful. “It is a shame we could not have arrived sooner.”
“Yes, it is. You have your orders, Captain.”
“Aye, sir.”
Kane terminated the connection. “Captain Eddings.”
“Sir?” Eddings looked over at him.
“Send a secure message to all ships. They are to withdraw back to the jump gate and prepare for transit. The jump coordinates have already been transmitted to the fleet. Tell them …” Kane paused, thinking on it. “Tell them the jump gate will be disabled upon our departure. Anyone not complying will be left behind. The enemy will be stuck in this tomb of a system. Tell them, on the emperor’s orders, we are transiting to the imperial refuge. There we will find hope for the future.”
“Yes, sir,” Eddings said. There was no question, no look of betrayal in the man’s eyes. All of his other staff positioned around the bridge were looking his way. Kane’s command crew had served with him for years. They had built a trust that went both ways. If he said it was time to go, they knew it was and would follow without question. Still, he felt the need to reassure them.
“Things seem bleak now,” Kane said, “but you have my word, it will get better.” Kane paused to allow that to sink in. “Captain Eddings, kindly carry out my orders.”
“I am on it, sir.”
Kane turned back to the display. Like a silent statue set in stone, he watched as his fleet, one ship at a time, began to fire maneuvering thrusters, slowing, banking and turning, swinging almost ponderously around … destroyers, light cruisers, cruisers, battle cruisers, battleships, his precious carriers, the troop transports, and the most fearsome battlewagons of all, the lumbering dreadnoughts with weapons powerful enough to crack open a planet or induce a sun into supernova.
The process of maneuvering back to the jump gate was slow and took time. Kane studied the jump gate’s tag as lead elements of his fleet approached. The gates were an artificial anomaly in space and time, one even the best scientists could not explain. It was one of the strange relics that the Infinity Controller and emperor could manipulate.
What he did know was that the gates were a product of the Precursors, the First Ones, and there seemed to be one in nearly every star system. The Precursors were a near mythical race of beings that, save for the gates and a few relics and ruins scattered about, had long since vanished from the galaxy.
And no one knew what the Infinity Controller was either, only that it existed in multiple dimensions. No one other than the emperor had ever seen it, interacted with it, or knew what it even looked like. The Infinity Controller theoretically provided the emperor command over the jump gate network, which meant it too was a product of the Precursors. Only the emperor could use the device, and he guarded that secret very carefully.
Kane kept his silence. He remained frozen, as if glued in place before the display tank, watching as his fleet maneuvered into position. Finally, the escorts began jumping. Their icons flashed and then, as if they had never been, disappeared from the Sol System. His carriers recovered their
birds, along with the rescue boats, and then they too left the system with his light and heavy cruisers.
The most powerful remaining fleet of the empire was leaving Sol. They were abandoning humanity’s cradle and would never return. Kane found that thought painful. Yet, they were not running. No, Kane had never run from a fight. He had his orders and a new mission. He would give it his all to see the job done right.
“Admiral,” the construct said. “The emperor’s ship has been destroyed. I regret to inform you the emperor is dead.”
Kane nodded stiffly and returned to his chair. He buckled himself in, then opened a channel to the ship’s captain.
“Captain Marku,” Kane said. “I want to be the last ship to leave Sol. Only then may you jump us out.”
“Yes, sir,” Marku said.
Kane terminated the connection. No matter what the emperor thought, Admiral Kane knew he had failed in reaching Sol in time. That had not been his fault, not entirely. And yet, had he managed to link up with the Home Fleet, things might have been different. The empire might have been saved, at least for a time. He gripped the armrests tightly, feeling frustration mingle with a terrible rage and desire to lash out at something, anything. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, forced himself to calm down, and vowed not to fail again. Nothing and no one would stand in the way of doing his duty. He would not allow it.
Chapter Three
Location: Planet Asherho (Nickname: Ash)
Date: 2450, Imperial Standard, eighteen years later
“Again,” Chris snapped, his tone firm. “Come at me. This time, mean it.”
Focused, Keira attacked, lunging forward. She punched out with a fist, only to have Chris block the strike. Her move had been made with the expectation he would block; in fact, that was exactly what she wanted. Keira launched her real attack and swept around with her leg, attempting to hook hers behind his and then, while he was off balance, use her momentum and his to bring him down.
It did not work out as planned. He was lightning quick, so fast she did not see what he did, but felt the result of his move. She landed hard on the exercise mat, with enough power to force the air from her lungs.
Staring at the overhead lighting, Keira found herself lying upon her back, wondering how she had gotten there. The rubber mat was not terribly thick, with only an unforgiving concrete pad underneath. She gave an involuntary groan, for her back hurt from the hard landing.
Chris stood over her, gazing down. He was middle-aged, almost old, at least to her twenty-four-year-old eyes. The expression he wore was a hard one, severe. When he got that look, it was as if his face were chiseled from stone. Chris was physically fit, muscular, but not overly so. His hair, a sandy blond with gray highlights, was short, in an overly precise flattop cut. A long, jagged scar ran down his left forearm to the wrist. There was another one, horizontal on his neck, about two centimeters long.
Chris wore his usual worn gray shirt tucked into baggy camouflage pants that had been patched one too many times. His combat boots stood by the door where he had left them. They were so polished it looked like the boots had a mirror finish. On his shirt’s left breast, there was a faded Eagle, Globe, and Anchor, the symbol of the Imperial Stellar Marine Corps.
She had long since learned the Eagle, Globe, and Anchor, EGA, had been appropriated from the American Marine Corps that had existed prior to star travel and the great diaspora from Old Earth and the Sol System. Her own family had descended from America, Chris’s too. That was a rarity on Asherho, for most people traced their roots back to Old Earth Asia, the Middle East, or French North Africa.
Staring up at Chris, she was dead certain he was everything a marine should be or would want to be. Heck, the man screamed an unyielding toughness that at times seemed more durable than composite steel or maybe even the seemingly impenetrable hull metal. And yet, she knew he had a softer side, especially toward her.
But that tenderness did not extend to training and what he thought she should learn or, for that matter, excel at. He was quite unwilling to bend when it came to that. Chris was an incredibly hard taskmaster who demanded excellence in literally everything.
“That was better,” Chris said, almost grudgingly, his face softening a fraction, “much better, but you need to be faster, and you must remember to watch for what your opponent wants to do to you and anticipate. Understand me on this, butterfly?”
“I hate when you call me that,” Keira said, resisting a groan. God, she hated the nicknames he continually hung on her, especially when he was beating her ass at hand-to-hand. Still, she understood they were meant as terms of endearment and not to disparage.
He grinned knowingly, while offering a hand. It was a lopsided grin that told her he was enjoying the moment. She took his hand, gripping it, then yanked hard, pulling him toward her, while kicking out savagely at one of his legs. Her kick found only air.
Chris dove over her, hit the mat, and rolled away. She sprang upward to her feet and immediately lunged after him, hoping to catch him before he could recover.
Once again, she was not quick enough. He was almost blindingly fast. They exchanged a series of rapid strikes. Each strike was countered by the other. Then he attacked, pressing her hard. Keira was forced to take two steps back, then four, before she was able to stop the retreat. She blocked each new attack he made and soon found herself holding her own. She even managed to land a jab to his side, which elicited a light grunt.
Her triumph was short-lived. His foot lashed out, seemingly from nowhere, and hammered her hard in the stomach, sending her violently backward. Her breath whooshed out, and once again, Keira found herself lying upon her back, this time gasping for air. She stared up at the ceiling and the harsh overhead lights, blinking, slightly dazed.
Chris stood over her, chuckling. The lopsided grin was back and larger than before.
“That was a good one. You almost had me, butterfly. Still, you need to be faster, strike harder, go for the kill. Stop half-assing it against me. Come at your opponent like you want to murder them.”
Keira rolled over onto her side as she struggled to get her breath back and force the air into her lungs. She pulled herself to her hands and knees and then, after what seemed like an eternity, she was finally able to breathe again, gulping in air.
The stale, filtered air of the forward operating base tasted like the sweetest, most precious, and purest she had ever had. She even failed to notice the ever-present burned stench. After a moment, she pulled herself into a sitting position and, with her hands on her knees, looked up at Chris.
“I wasn’t half-assing it,” she gasped.
“Uh huh.” Chris sounded far from convinced. “Back when I was a drill instructor, if you were one of my recruits, I’d be beating this into you.”
“I think you just did.” Keira’s stomach ached from where he had kicked her. She rubbed at it, trying to work the soreness out.
“You’ve got excellent instincts,” Chris said, “some of the best I’ve ever seen. You are quick and not afraid to take risks when you think you can score a hit. You are also good at sensing weaknesses in your opponents and exploiting them. Honestly, you would have made a good marine, provided you’d have survived the training. Not everyone makes the grade.”
“Compliments?” Keira asked. “Is this a break me down and then build me back up kind of day?”
He took a deep breath and regarded her for a long moment. His tone softened a fraction when he spoke.
“There will come a time when I won’t be there. You will be all alone, and it will be bad, and when I say bad—I mean ugly. When that happens and the shit really hits the fan, you will find that this training might just save your life. In fact, I am counting on it doing just that.”
Keira gave a nod. She had heard it all before.
“One day, your hands, feet, and wits will be all that you have. You don’t always need a weapon to best an opponent. Consider rifles, pistols, knives, rocks, fists”—he balled his f
ists before him—“whatever you find at hand, just tools to get the job done.” He pointed a finger at her. “You are the real weapon, your mind. Use it. Every marine is taught that, and for some it takes time to beat it into them. When you learn that and take it to heart, then you will be truly dangerous. Use whatever is available to you. Hold nothing back. Because when it comes down to it, whoever walks away wins. That is all that matters in the end.” Chris sucked in a small breath. “And on Ash—tell me, what does winning mean?”
“Life,” she breathed, for he had long since hammered this into her. “Winning means life, everything.”
“Good,” he said with approval. “I am confident you can beat most anyone you come across on this planet. However, if you ever happen upon someone who is properly trained, like me or your aunt and uncle, trust me, they will kick your ass from here to orbit, as I just did. That is reason enough to become better, quicker, harder, unyielding. Show no mercy until the fight’s over and done, and your opponent is broken and incapable of fighting back. Adapt to the situation, overcome any obstacle—use whatever you must to win, to break them. Take nothing for granted, for even a wounded enemy can be dangerous. Understand?”
Keira stared at him for a long moment before nodding slowly. His face softened and she knew a sarcastic comment was coming, just knew it.
“One day,” Keira said, beating him to it, “I will best you, old man. On that you have my word.”
“You are a determined little girl,” Chris said, “that’s for sure. But determination does not always mean victory. That’s why we train and practice.”
“Old man,” she shot back.
“Guilty as charged,” Chris said. “And on that day, when you do beat me, you will make me a very happy old man.” Chris glanced around the spartan room. She followed his gaze. The walls were metal, scuffed and scratched from years of hard use. When they had appropriated it, it had been a storeroom, where people had thrown things they’d not needed, more to get them out of the way than anything else. Chris had moved it all out so they could train.
Fallen Empire: A Military Science Fiction Epic Adventure (Born of Ash Book 1) Page 3
