by Finn Gray
Jemma let out a tiny gasp of fear as the juniper began to give way. It made a tearing sound as the roots broke free.
“I love you,” Jemma said as she slid away.
“No!” Rory lurched forward and caught her by the wrist. The full force of her weight nearly ripped his shoulder from its socket but he held on. “I’ve got you. And I’m not letting go.”
At those words, he felt himself slide forward. He tried to dig his toes into the ground but they found no purchase on the solid rock. He reached out with his free hand trying to find something to hold onto but there was nothing. They continued to slide.
“Just let me go,” Jemma said. “No sense in us both dying.”
“Not a chance.”
She began to twist, trying to break free of his grasp, but he held on.
I’m not letting this happen again, he thought. I’ll die too before I do that.
And then someone grabbed him by the ankles. Two someones, in fact.
“Hang on, Jemma. They’ve got us.” He clung to her for all he was worth as they were dragged back up onto the ledge. They lay there for a moment, trying to catch their breath.
“Come on, Farmboy. We need to get topside.” Sid offered his hand and hauled Rory to his feet. Beside them, Monk helped Jemma to stand.
“Nice shooting, girl,” Monk said. “You saved our asses.”
“I was almost too late,” Jemma said.
Monk’s eyes fell.
“Oh Gods. Who didn’t make it?” Jemma asked.
Monk tried to speak, but she couldn’t find the words. Tears welled in her eyes and she turned to stare at the horizon.
“Jones and Itoi fell,” Sid explained. “Jones made it, but not Itoi. He didn’t have a chance, what with his suit all frozen up.”
“Damn.” Rory kicked the ground.
Sid shook his head. “Nothing we can do about it now. Let’s catch up with the others.”
The four of them picked their way along the shattered remnants of the ledge and then made the climb up to the top of the plateau. Jones, Marson, and Cassidy waited there.
No sooner had Rory come into view than Cassidy stormed over to him and shoved him hard in the chest.
“You filthy son of a whore! You chose a Memnon,” she said, jabbing a finger in Jemma’s direction for emphasis, “over me?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“I know exactly what I was like. I was there, remember? You stood there and just looked back and forth between us like an idiot. You couldn’t decide who to save. And then you finally made your choice.” She gave him another shove.
Rory figured she wasn’t truly itching for a fight, else she’d just punch him. As long as she was content with pushing him around, he’d let her blow off steam.
“I wanted to save you both,” he said. “I had another spell. Like I did when we climbed the wall on the obstacle course.”
Cassidy wasn’t listening. “I was your friend,” she said, her words choked with emotion, “from the very first day. All those talks we had. And you picked a Memnon over me. A Memnon who tried to kill you.”
“I told you, I’m a Memnon by birth but not by faith!” Jemma shouted.
“Liar!” Cassidy made a move toward Jemma, fists clenched.
Monk stepped between them. “That Memnon, if that’s even what she is, just saved all of us. She brought Clancy down when he was trying to kill us.”
Cassidy had no reply. She stood there, jaw working, for a full five seconds, before turning her back on Monk. “Wash your face, Plowboy,” she said without looking back. “You look like a hemorrhoid.”
Rory almost managed a relieved smile, but he was too tired, too angry, too confused. He felt Jemma take hold of his hand, but he pulled it back.
“Not right now,” he whispered. “Not while everyone’s on edge.”
She nodded and moved away.
Marson had seen the brief exchange. He fixed Rory with a long, hard look before finally shaking his head and turning his back on Rory.
“You think this is going to be a problem?” Sid asked quietly, looking meaningfully in Jemma’s direction as he spoke.
Rory shrugged. “I don’t understand what happened to her, why she did what she did, but I still believe she’s one of us. We’ve just got to get the others to see it, too.”
“I didn’t just mean the others. What about that transport?” Sid pointed to the south, where a transport was winging its way toward them. “You think it’s Trent?”
“If it’s not her, then our problems are over. Jemma lost the rocket launcher when the ledge collapsed, so we’ll all probably be dead in a few minutes.”
Sid grinned. “You always know just the right thing to say.”
It was Trent. She set the craft down in the middle of the plateau and the beaten up, exhausted remnant of Rory’s squad piled in. As soon as they were on board, they took off.
“Everyone else dead?” she asked.
“Wig, I mean Vega, got frozen on the course. Everyone else is gone,” Rory said, dispensing with proper address. It seemed so trivial at the moment.
He directed Trent to where they’d left Wig. The recruit was sunburned and dehydrated but otherwise healthy. He was also confused about what was happening in the outside world.
“It’s war,” Trent said simply as they took off. “The Memnons have risen all over the globe, and on Thetis, too.”
Cassidy shot Jemma an angry look but, to Rory’s relief, held her tongue.
“I saw mushroom clouds,” Wig said. “I guess the cities are gone?”
“Some are. As far as I know, all the major political centers have been wiped off the map. Vatome is gone. The emperor, the Senate, everyone.” Trent’s expression tightened, her eyes narrowed. “They killed a lot of their own when they did that, Memnon protesters mostly, but they didn’t seem to care.”
“What about the corps? The fleet?” Rory asked.
“Information is limited. The Memnons have cut communications wherever possible, but we know that it was a coordinated attack. The emperor was hosting some kind of function with all the high-level government functionaries and lots of nobles. They were bombed first. It went out on all the vids. After that, it all went to shit. Nukes going off in cities, mutiny on board fleet ships, and the same within the corps. It was like somebody flipped a switch. In some cases there were what were obviously planned attacks, but in other instances, people just went nuts and started trying to do as much damage as they could in as short a time as possible.”
Jemma, sadness in her eyes, scooted closer to Rory. “Put your arms around me,” she whispered.
He frowned. “Is now really the time?” he whispered.
“No, not in that way. I just want to make sure you can pin my arms to my sides if I try to do something else crazy.”
Rory’s mouth went dry and he felt like he would be sick. “Are you feeling like that now?”
“No, but what Trent is saying sounds like what happened to me,” she said in a low voice. “Like someone flipped a switch in my mind. What if it happens again?”
“You’ll fight it, just like you did before.” He hoped she would be able to resist any urges that threatened to overwhelm her will. Still, he slipped an arm around her waist.
“What’s happening to me?” she whispered.
“I don’t know, but we’ll find out. I promise.” He wasn’t one to make such pledges, but he was determined to see it through. Somehow they’d find out what had happened to Jemma and they would make it right.
Seemingly unaware of their private conversation, Trent continued on, giving as much information about the war as she could. The recruits asked questions about their homes, wondering if their families might have survived. Vatome, the seat of the empire, had been wiped off the map, which meant Cassidy’s family was gone. She said nothing, but gazed out the window, tears streaming down her cheeks. As for the others, Trent wasn’t sure. She’d heard conflicting rumors about New Soria, Sid’s home. As fo
r the smaller towns and the farm country, she had no idea, though she doubted they’d have been targeted for annihilation.
“Are we winning?” Jones asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“What do the Memnons want?” Sid asked. “They trying to take over?”
“No one’s issued any demands, or even claimed to speak for the whole. They’re just trying to break as much shit as possible.”
“It sounds like they just want chaos,” Monk said. “And using nukes, that doesn’t make sense. I mean, the Memnons have to live here too. They’re poisoning the planet. I don’t understand.”
“Only one thing makes sense to me.” Trent paused, seemingly unwilling to say the words. “It feels like they’re softening us up for something worse.”
They lapsed into silence, contemplating that thought for a while, until Rory finally broke the silence.
“Are any of the other recruits alive?”
“A few. I and a few other veterans managed to escape along with some of the recruits. Camp Maddux is lost to us, though.”
“Where are we going now?” Rory asked.
“Soria.”
Everyone stared at her. Even Cassidy turned to gape at the sergeant.
The cradle of Auroran civilization, Soria had been wiped out ages ago by Vatome in the early days of the empire.
“But Soria is a radioactive wasteland,” Rory said.
“Is it?” Trent glanced over her shoulder.
“What happens when we get there?” Monk asked.
“We figure out who’s alive, who’s dead, and who we can trust. Then we’ll plan our next move.”
Wondering what that next move would be, Rory pulled Jemma close and held on tight.
Chapter 32
Battlecruiser Dragonfly
Thetis
“We’ve cleared most of the ship, Commander.” Fisher sounded weary, but pleased. “What’s left of the Memnons have been driven back. They’ve barricaded themselves in a locker in weapons storage down on C Deck.”
“Weapons storage,” Graves repeated. “Any idea what’s stored in that particular locker?”
“Missiles for the Cobras. The Memnons could do some damage if they had any way of firing them.”
Graves stroked his chin, felt the stubble that had grown there over the course of a very long day. “Any chance they could find a way to set them off?”
“It’s not impossible. If they were bent on suicide, they could perhaps use the weapons they have at their disposal to explode a couple missiles, which could potentially set off a chain reaction. If we try cutting through, I think they’ll definitely try to go that route.” Fisher cleared her throat. “The greater danger is if we were to blow the door. I don’t like the idea of using our own explosives that close to a missile store.”
“Nor do I.” Graves was impressed with the second officer’s sharp mind. He cracked his knuckles and took a deep breath. Now that fighting had died down, he felt the fatigue of the day’s events. “I assume we can’t override the lock on the door?”
“No, sir. They’ve got someone down there with enough technical knowledge that they’ve got it under their control.”
“All right.” He turned to communications officer Cassier. “Have we been in contact with them?”
“Yes, sir,” Cassier said. “Hunter is down there. They’re demanding a transport and a guarantee that they won’t be shot down.”
“Why would we agree to that?” Graves asked.
“They’ve got a hostage. One of the fledglings.”
“Which one?”
“The one they call Recess.”
Graves considered this. “He’s Hyperian nobility, isn’t he?” He didn’t need Cassier’s nod to know he was correct. Recess was a talented pilot, but he was also a suspect in the sabotage of the fledglings’ Cobras. At least, Hunter had suspected him at one point.
“If I may, Commander,” Cassier said, “What’s the worst-case scenario? The worlds lose one more noble today.” When Graves didn’t answer right away, he went on. “What’s the alternative? Let the Memnons kidnap him? That might be worse than simply saying he was killed in the uprising.”
“What if he’s one of them?”
That brought Cassier up short. “Sir?”
“He’s part of the imperial family, but far out of the line of succession. If his family are Memnons, enough well-placed deaths and suddenly he or someone close to him is in charge. In fact, I’d be interested in the names of the nobles who weren’t in Vatome when the nuke went off. Any of those families could be involved.”
“That could take some time, sir. All we know for certain is the entirety of the Navarre family is gone, save the princesses who were kidnapped.”
“I guess that’s a problem for another time,” Graves said. “Right now, let’s deal with these mutineers.”
Patel looked up at him with interest. “What’s our play, Commander?”
“Seal off all the weapons lockers and cut off their air.”
Patel raised his bushy eyebrows. “Suffocate them? It’s risky.”
“It is.” Deprived of oxygen, a person could lose consciousness in as little as thirty seconds, but some could last longer. Maybe long enough to do some damage. “I’m gambling that, by the time they realize what’s happening to them, they’ll be so loopy they won’t have the time or wherewithal to try and blow those missile stores. Once they’re out cold, our men can safely cut through the door.”
“The men inside will be brain dead by the time we cut through,” said Fisher.
“We’ll give it two minutes then restore the oxygen. Just a trickle. If it doesn’t work, that’s on me.” He looked her in the eye. “You have your orders.”
“Aye, sir,” she said.
Fisher began barking orders, setting the plan into motion. Graves contemplated all that had happened. As communications had gradually been restored, they’d learned the full extent of the damage dealt to the fleet. Two dreadnoughts down and two more disabled. The damn things were big and powerful, but also complex—too complex in his estimation. It made them vulnerable to widespread system malfunctions. The older battlecruisers had fared better. Each had suffered some amount of damage, mostly from their own Cobras piloted by Memnon mutineers, who’d turned the fighters against their own mother ships. One Memnon had apparently blown the hells out of one of Osprey’s flight decks, but the ship had survived.
News from on the ground was harder to come by. War raged on Thetis and Hyperion. Cities had been nuked. The imperial marines had apparently been thoroughly infiltrated, and were now sharply divided between traitors and loyalists. The two sides were now in the process of chewing each other to bits. How they were ever going to make things right again, Graves had no idea.
“Commander,” Cassier barked, “we’ve got an unidentified ship approaching fast. Looks like a Mongoose. I’ve asked it to identify but no reply.”
“Identification won’t matter if the pilot’s a Memnon,” Graves said. “Go ahead and hail it. If you don’t like what you hear, give them one chance to turn around and then blow it out of the sky.”
Cassier spoke loudly and clearly into his comm. “Unidentified ship, this is the battlecruiser Dragonfly. Identify immediately or we will respond with deadly force.”
Two seconds of heart-pounding silence hung in the air as the unidentified craft approached. It was definitely a Mongoose and it was coming on at a rapid clip.
Patel looked up at Graves. “Commander?”
“Shoot her down.”
“Dragonfly, this is Sabre,” a voice crackled through the comm. “You asshats had better not shoot at me. You’ll only miss, and that would be a waste of a good missile.”
Graves threw back his head and laughed for the first time all day. “That’s her.”
Cassier flicked a relieved smile the commander’s way. “Sabre, this is Dragonfly. You are cleared to land in the port bay. Close the barn door behind you.”
“Rog
er, Dragonfly. Sabre out.”
A few minutes later, Graves received an update from C Deck. The mutineers had succumbed without a fight. Several had perished, but Recess and a few others were still alive, though their condition was uncertain. That was good news. The information coming from the flight deck, however, was better.
“Everybody look sharp,” he said.
“Are you joking, sir?” Fisher asked.
“No, Lieutenant. I realize there’s no time for a shave and a shower, but at least tuck in your shirt and zip your fly.”
Confused, the bridge crew hastily straightened their uniforms and smoothed their hair. None of them would pass even a lax inspection, but they’d earned their wrinkled uniforms and haggard looks. It had been a long day. A few of them cast puzzled frowns in Graves’ direction but didn’t ask for an explanation. They understood a few minutes later when Sabre walked in escorting Catalina Navarre. The beautiful young noblewoman limped along on a splinted ankle, yet still managed to carry herself with a detached aura of self-assuredness.
“Salute!” Graves barked, though it wasn’t necessary. Everyone had already come to attention and saluted. “Your Imperial Majesty, welcome aboard Dragonfly. We are pleased to see you safe and sound.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Catalina replied politely, “but I’m only a Highness, not a Majesty.”
So she didn’t know. Graves took a step closer and lowered his voice.
“I hope you will forgive me. There is probably a better way to do this, but I’m career in the fleet and I don’t know any way other than brutal honesty.”
“Believe me, after a lifetime lived in a political family, brutal honesty makes for a refreshing change.” She smiled, but nervous anticipation filled her eyes.
“The Memnons set off nukes,” Graves said. “Vatome was utterly destroyed, along with everyone in attendance at the gala.” The girl paled, but she didn’t flinch. “Your parents and grandparents did not survive.”
Catalina frowned. “I see. So, what happens now?”
“We have a priestess on board and she is on her way here. She will administer you the oath of the Empress of Aurora.”
