Refuge: Book 5: Angels & Demons

by Doug Dandridge

  “You are, you know,” continued Derrick’s voice. “Smart, I mean. And beautiful.”

  “And very, very uninterested,” she said, opening her eyes and looking with a steady gaze on her partner. “And Shadow is the smart one of this entangled team. I just give him direction, and he does the rest.”

  Alyssa turned her attention back to the screen, at the image of the shaven headed man. He was a bit thin, as befitted someone from a light gravity world. Vasus only had about point five three standard gravities. Alyssa was from a much larger and denser world, with one tenth of a gee over standard. She still wondered where that standard had come from. Somewhere from the dim past, she was sure. But the face of the young monk was pleasant to look at, freckled and intelligent. She was sure he would have had the deep red hair of his brother as well.

  The ship shook for a moment, passing the vibrations of the tremor up from the sea bottom. This was a minor one. They had already experienced far too many in the three days they had been on the surface of the world. I know it’s still ten years away, she thought as the tremor subsided. But I don’t want to be here when this world hits the Roche limit of its primary. Then the tremor was over and she could concentrate on the target again.

  “Did you see the way he moved?” she asked in a quiet voice. “When he was fighting that big barbarian.”

  “Yeah,” said Derrick in a harsh voice. “Very impressive. But he wouldn’t last a second against a Marine. And they’re all barbarians, remember.”

  “Just like we were, seven hundred years ago,” she replied, her attention focused on the young man walking back to the camp, as Shadow lived up to his name.

  “But we crawled a little further than they did,” said Derrick with a frown. “We’re in space, and they’re still barbs.”

  “They had a little harder time of it than we did, Derrick,” said Alyssa, standing up and looking down at the man. She could feel her face burning with anger. So many of her fellow citizens looked down on anyone who hadn’t risen from the ashes as fast as they had.

  “We all got knocked down,” said Derrick, wiping his chin with a napkin and looking up at her. “Just saying they haven’t done as well.”

  “They got hit with something really big,” said Alyssa, hands going to her hips. “It pushed them out of stable orbit, and they’re about to pay for it big time, a thousand years later. And what about those big damned beasts they’ve had to live with. I wouldn’t have wanted to grow up around them.”

  Alyssa turned away with a huff and plopped back down in her seat, her eyes going to the screen where the monk could be seen getting into a small tent. “I think they’ve done very well. This is an exciting time for them.”

  “Until they break up a decade from now, you mean,” said Derrick.

  Alyssa felt her rage rise as she looked back at the man.

  “Just saying,” he said, holding up his hands. “Just saying. There’s not much we can do about it unless we get some of that ancient tech. And maybe this guy will be the key, to not just helping us.”

  Alyssa closed her eyes for a moment and sent the order to Shadow to bed down for the night. It was no use risking the valuable animal. Who was also her soul mate if truth be told. It would be a disaster if some idiot wandered up on the cat at night and took a shot at it. She didn’t want to think of the possibility. She received from the cat the transmission that he had found a nice little cave, too small for many of the local beasts to get in to. Safe for the night.

  “You sure he’s the one,” said Derrick, looking at a replay of the monk on the screen just before the fight. “I mean, it could be his brother that we’re looking for.”

  “Look at that sword,” said Alyssa as the blade was revealed, then shoved back into its sheath. “That’s ancient tech alright. And my sources say he was the one to open the vault.”

  “But the brother has a breast plate of the same tech,” said Derrick.

  “Fine,” said Alyssa, shrugging her shoulders. “Then we’ll take both of them tomorrow. If we get a chance.”

  “Worried about the fight in space?”

  “Of course,” said Alyssa with a frown. “We’re outnumbered, after all. And Admiral Eubanks is not the genius that damned Theocrat Admiral is.”

  “Maybe Murphy will come in on our side,” said Derrick, getting up from his seat and grabbing his tray. “I’m going to work out a bit, then hit the rack.”

  “I’m going to stay up a while longer,” said Alyssa, watching the replay of the short fight. “And Marine?”

  “No longer,” said Derrick with a smile.

  “I think he would kick your ass in a fair fight,” she said, gesturing toward the screen.

  “But only an idiot would get involved in a fair fight,” said Derrick, walking out of the control room.

  * * *

  Admiral Tadrick Krishnamurta cursed under his breath as the flag bridge shook to another hit. He quickly checked the ship’s status through his implant, another curse coming to his lips as he noted the hull breach that had taken out one of the missile accelerator tubes.

  “Heineman has been hit again,” came the voice of the bridge callout officer, keeping tabs on the fleet action.

  The Admiral looked up into the repeater holo in the front of the bridge. The bright circle of a fusion warhead explosion took up a good portion of the holo as it focused in on a single vessel. The bright circle started to fade, revealing the long, thin form of the battle cruiser in question. She was as long as the Murtaw, the flag battleship, so she would have a similar length of acceleration tubes. But she was a third less in thickness, with thinner armor. As the fusion warhead explosion faded the effect of having that thinner armor became apparent, as the entire vessel disappeared in a great blast. The fusion reactors ruptured and the entire vessel converted to bright plasma that filled the screen. When it faded there was nothing left.

  Over six hundred men and women, thought the Admiral as the ship disintegrated into plasma. Added to all the rest.

  “Sir,” yelled out the caller. “Captain Jackson is asking for instructions.”

  The great battleship shuddered again from another impact, this from a KE round. The Admiral did a quick rundown of the ship’s injuries and stopped for a second on the casualty figures. A quarter of the crew, over two hundred and fifty personnel, killed or seriously wounded. One half of his command destroyed or disabled. An enemy that had outnumbered him slightly under two to one, now with three to one odds in his favor. There hadn’t been any other choice. The rules of engagement were to attack the enemy wherever encountered. And the only way to save the people of this world was to engage, no matter how slight the odds of victory. Now it was run or lose everything, and the enemy would still have the presence in this moon system to do what they wanted. Which they would also have if he stood and fought to the last ship.

  “All ships, break off,” he ordered over the com. “All ships, break off. Rendezvous at point Delta. Repeat, point Delta.”

  The Admiral felt himself pushed back in his couch by the heavy hand of gravity, as the battleship rotated and fired its engines. Two gravities, then three, four, settling down at five. He could hardly breathe, despite the augmented musculature of a spaceman working his intercostals and diaphragm. One of the fleet’s cruisers exploded into plasma before it could break free. Another battleship took a hit, but kept thrusting away, above the plane of the moon system.

  “Do you think they’ll follow?” asked the Captain over the com.

  “No,” said the Admiral, wincing as he saw that less than half the ships he had brought to the battle were leaving. Much less. “They have what they want.”

  * * *

  “Shall we give chase, your eminence?” asked the Captain of the Theocracy battleship The Elder Thomas DeRutter.

  “What do you think, Colonel Chung?’ asked the Admiral Bishop Jon Gruber, looking over at his subordinate, and the man the mission revolved around.

  Nathan Chung looked down his long nose at
the Captain, then turned to the Admiral with a slight bow of his two meter height. He ran a hand through the blond stubble on his head and gave back the look from his superior with his ice blue eyes. Of course, as a son of the reigning Patriarch, he felt that no man was his superior, not deep down. And that attitude showed to all.

  “I think, Admiral, that we need to concentrate on what we came here for,” rumbled the Colonel. “There is another Republic force on the way, well before our own reinforcements arrive,” he continued, flashing a glare at the Captain to keep the man from saying anything. “I would like to take the target and be gone before they can interfere.”

  “I think the original plan is scrapped,” said the Admiral, nodding his head as his hands played with the blood stained prayer beads around his neck. “You will not be going down to his camp and taking him, I think.”

  “Their camp is already getting ready for the day,” agreed Chung, gesturing toward the holo tank, which was now showing the surface of the world and the stirring military camp of the barbarians. “I think it best if we use force to take what we want.” The holo switched view, to show a barbarian warrior in mail, with a shimmering breastplate of some advanced substance, yelling to his under officers.

  “And you are sure of your target?” asked the Admiral, leaning forward to study the features of the warrior.

  “As sure as I can be,” said the Colonel with a shrug of his shoulders. “Based on what my operatives on the moon have learned, I would say almost ninety percent certainty.”

  “Just keep your dogs under control,” said the Captain in a whiny voice.

  Chung walked toward the man, his boots sticking to the carpet for a moment on each step. Chung was the same titular rank as the ship’s Captain. His posting to Church Intelligence actually gave him the same power as a commodore, while his lineage gave him as much power as the in place fleet commander. He stopped and glared down at the Captain, a vein throbbing in his temple.

  “My Maurids are much more intelligent than many of the humans manning this fleet,” he said in a hissing voice. “Probably more so that many of the officers as well.” He pointed a large finger at the Captain’s face, then turned and walked away. He was feeling rage at the bigoted attitudes of the fools he was saddled with. Fools who thought that non-human meant stupid. The Maurids, found on a small continent of one of the worlds the Theocracy had subjugated, had taken over that continent to the detriment of the humans who had been there. To him that was proof that they were a match for humans.

  “Bring me your tasking order in no more than an hour, Colonel,” called the Admiral after him.

  Chung turned on his heels and rendered a picture perfect salute. “I will have an operation plan for you within a half an hour.”

  “Nothing too complicated, I hope,” said the Captain with a sneer.

  “Nothing complicated,” agreed Chung with a nod. “Just hit them hard and knock the hell out of them.”

  Chapter Three

  Vasus had set just before the sun had risen. The planet had trembled again as the bright orb of the day star had broached the horizon. The men were used to it, even though the frequency was increasing. It caused some concern, not that there was anything they could do about it but leave it in the hands of the Good God. Camp was struck as breakfast was wolfed down. Soon all of the tentage was aboard wagons. This camp was no longer needed. If they won this day they would be in pursuit of their barbarous opponents. If they lost they would be on the run from the enemy’s pursuit. Either way, this ground would be of no use.

  Patrick looked with curiosity over the ground where the battle was to be fought. As far as he could tell the troops were expertly placed to receive an attack, emplaced on the slopes looking down into the river valley. The enemy would have to ford that stream and make their way upward into the face of the Eirish soldiers. But maybe not so well placed for an attack, he thought. That river and the opposite slope would have the same effect on the friendly troops. But the Hyrkanians were known for their fierceness in the attack, and the plan was to let them come on in their habitual way. Today Patrick hoped that it was true.

  Patrick heard his brother’s voice shouting out over the din. He looked down and to his right, where Sean was arranging his soldiers. Several hundred pikemen were to the front, their long spears waving in the air. Behind them were a hundred or so musketeers, setting up their fork supports and readying their matchlocks. They were the right flank of the army proper. There were some skirmishers beyond them, a few hundred men with javelins, spears and bows, who would screen them from any surprises.

  Further out was one of the flanking cavalry detachments, about five hundred men seated on the backs of their feathered raptors. The raptors had been unmuzzled, and were screeching their displeasure to the morning while they revealed their alarming array of teeth. Patrick knew from experience that the foul tempered and intelligent mounts, about six times the mass of their riders, carried their deadliest weapons on their feet. The armored riders carried long lances, swords and wheel lock pistols, but were not the threat that their mounts were. Patrick would just as soon fight on foot as have to handle one of the beasts, who were known to take chunks out of riders or anyone else standing about.

  The young monk let his eye wander further inward, where the King and his body guard looked over the field. Cannon were placed further up the slope, where they could plunge fire into the enemy struggling up the steep embankment. Above them, almost at the crest of the hill, stood the larger raptors of the royal knights. These beasts were as tall as two men, and massed more than twelve. Their riders sat back on their saddles and talked among themselves, every once in awhile slapping their mounts on nose or back of head to keep them from attacking each other.

  Patrick looked back down to the King and met the eye of one of the monks in the monarch’s bodyguard. All carried large shields as well as blades, and all looked alert and ready. About fifty yards from the king stood a hundred monks, a contingent of supreme warriors who were the King’s personal reserve. Patrick saw Master Killian at the head of that grouping, looking calm and composed as he held his short, broad bladed spear.

  “Are we ready, sir Monk?” asked the Duke, striding up to take his place in the formation.

  “I am ready, Lord,” said Patrick with a head nod. His magical sword was in its sheath, but Patrick held a shield made of the same metal on his arm. “And my Fae shield is ready as well.”

  “Hopefully you won't need it,” said the Duke, gesturing the rest of his personal retinue to their places. He stopped for a moment and looked closely at the shield.

  “From the vaults, my lord,” said Patrick, twirling the shield. “My Master said he had a vision that I would have need of it.”

  “The vault that you opened, young Monk?” asked the Duke with a smile. “I have heard the tale. How nothing known could get through the door, until you touched it with your good right hand.”

  “I don’t know why it opened for me, Milord,” said Patrick, his face reddening with embarrassment. “There was nothing special about my right hand.”

  “The Good God must have disagreed,” said the Duke with a laugh. “Since you were the one that opened it, and released the wonderful artifacts within.”

  “Witch weapons are what they are,” said a slightly less drunken looking Rory.

  Patrick looked over at the man, who returned a glare. Patrick was not sure why the man hated him so. Does he have an agenda I don’t know about? Patrick made it a point to keep an eye on the man, come the battle, when it would be too easy to lose the focus on any one soldier.

  “Here the bastards come,” shouted a voice from below.

  Patrick looked down at the pikemen to the front, where the call had come. Several were pointing to the other ridge, and he let his eyes naturally follow those gestures. And there the bastards did come. Hundreds of them at first, all cavalry, chain mail glittering in the sun as they walked their large raptors forward, pennants fluttering from lance heads. Patri
ck looked back at the royal knights, then at the approaching enemy, and judged that the raptors they rode were of a size with the ones behind his lines. Their feather patterns were a different color was all, stripped orange and black, instead of the blue and gold of his side’s. A different race. And the men riding those war beasts were also of a different color, a deep dark brown that reminded Patrick of shoe leather. But they are still children of the Good God, he thought, shading his eyes from the sunlight. Even if they choose to worship the Evil One.

  More and more raptors came over the hills. He had heard that the Hyperborean Army was mostly a cavalry army, though there was said to be some infantry among the vassals. Just as he was thinking it some of that infantry came marching over the rise.

  Patrick pulled out a small telescope he had been gifted by the great scientist Liam Nelson. It was a wonderful instrument, though not as powerful as that used by Nelson to scan the night skies. But much more practical on the battlefield. Patrick focused in on the infantry and grunted in surprise. The faces of the men carrying the three meter long broad bladed spears were darker than those of their Hyperborean masters. They wore flowing robes, so it was impossible to tell what kind of body armor they wore, though Patrick thought by the way they moved it couldn’t have been much. They did wear small helms on their heads, and were in good order as they made their way down the slopes. The only way to tell how good they were in combat was to watch them as they fought. And that would come soon enough.

  A shattering roar sounded from behind the ridge, followed by a dozen more. A huge head appeared, much broader than a raptor’s and filled with an alarming array of teeth. They were similar to the large carnosaurs that had inhabited Eire prior to being hunted out. A hundred times more massive than a large man, they were creatures of nightmare. A dozen had appeared over the ridge and were making their way to the down slope, while dozens more heads poked over the ridge.

  “May the Good God have mercy on us,” called out a nearby voice.