Graveyard of Empires

by Lincoln Cole

  Jack didn’t answer, but he shifted Traq and slung him over his shoulder, holding onto his legs. Traq looked like a sack of rice bouncing on his uncle’s shoulder as Jack took off sprinting for the spaceport. Vivian kept pace about a step behind, firing her pistol to deter the occasional pursuer.

  She saw the spaceport hangar rise in front of them as they rounded a corner, then she realized to her dismay that the bay doors were closed. It was a blast door, not particularly thick, and the panel next to it still had power.

  She could rewire the system and open it. But that would take time and the area around the door was open and exposed. A line of statues ran along the sides of the walkway out front, but there was nothing directly in front of the door.

  But they didn’t have any alternatives. She glanced behind but didn’t see any immediate pursuit. She turned back toward the doors.

  “Cover me,” she said, cutting the front of the panel off. She tossed Jack her pistol and with a practiced flick of her wrist the blade stopped vibrating. She used the tip to remove the faceplate from the door controls.

  Jack set Traq against the wall behind a statue to the right and then leveled the pistol. It was small and low caliber, but he wielded it with practiced ease.

  Vivian heard him fire off a few shots but focused on rewiring the controls. She had to hope Jack would keep her safe, especially considering none of them were wearing armor.

  “Three coming,” he said over his shoulder. “Hurry up.”

  She didn’t bother to answer. She was almost done and had to hope that the door to their hanger wasn’t closed as well.

  “They backed off,” Jack said. “Must be planning to flank us.”

  A few more seconds passed and suddenly Vivian felt something grab her shoulder and yank her to the side. She hit the ground hard and rolled to her knees.

  A second later gunfire opened up from the street behind them, tearing into the statues and sending plaster flying in the air. Jack stood next to her, shrugging apologetically.

  “A war robot,” he said.

  Vivian managed to peek around the corner to see the robot but had to duck back almost instantly. It was a mammoth creation, over six meters tall and hovering in the air on thrusters.

  It had six mounted guns, two of which were laying down suppressive fire. She understood now why the security team hadn’t been in such a hurry to chase her. Why bother when they had this at their disposal?

  “We have to neutralize that,” she said. “Before the rest surround us.”

  “Okay,” Jack said. “How?”

  Vivian had no idea. She wracked her mind for a plan, but nothing came. The situation was slowly going from bad to worse. She waited for the shots to slow but realized they probably wouldn’t.

  At any given time two rifles were firing, which meant the other four had time for the barrels to cool off and reload. She doubted it had great armor shielding against her vibrating blade, but that meant nothing when she couldn’t get close. Similar robots were known to carry thousands and thousands of rounds of ammunition.

  “Can your weapon cut through the wall here?” Jack asked, picking Traq back up. She looked it over and shook her head.

  “It’s a reinforced base. It will be too thick for a Vibro-blade to cut through.”

  “Then what do we do?”

  She considered their situation and realized the longer they waited the more hopeless it became. “You’ll have to go through the door. It’s almost open, just finish cutting and splicing the last two wires and it should open. Then make a run for the ship and get off planet.”

  “We aren’t leaving you.”

  “That isn’t the plan. I’m going to try and work around these statues and take out the robot. But if I’m not right behind you, don’t hesitate. On the count of three—”

  She broke off suddenly when she heard a loud explosion. The assault rifles stopped firing. She peeked around the corner and saw the war robot careen into the building beside it. One of the propulsion legs at the bottom was smoldering, trying to reignite and realign the thrusters.

  She spotted someone in the distance behind it, firing a pistol at it. He fired off another two shots and then took off running. She thought it looked like Oliver, but it was hard to tell from this distance.

  The robot stopped spinning in place and leaned against the building beside it, opening fire back in the direction it had come. Not about to waste the opportunity, Vivian rushed out and finished splicing the wire on the control panel.

  “Move!” she said, waving Jack through the opening. Jack scooped Traq up and carried him through the door, disappearing into the dimly lit antechamber beyond. Vivian started through, then hesitated.

  The robot had almost repaired and reignited its propulsion leg. She wasn’t sure who helped them or why, but she also knew that once the robot got moving it would cause that person serious trouble.

  She stood on the roadway and drew her Vibro-blade. A quick flick set it vibrating again. She hauled back and sent it careening down the street.

  She’d been right about its armor, and the curved blade cut the robot cleanly in half. The top section tipped forward and collapsed to the ground.

  Her blade hit the ground behind the robot, sinking a foot deep into the asphalt, then began thudding like a jackhammer.

  She ignored it and rushed into the spaceport. Jack was already running through the entry hall, about forty meters ahead, but she quickly caught up.

  All of the people that weren’t evacuated from the spaceport had found hiding spots. No one stopped them as they rushed to Jack’s hangar.

  TM waited at the top of the ramp, clicking angrily as they approached.

  “Close the ramp,” Jack said, ignoring the robot and handing Traq to Vivian. She punched the control button and carried Traq to the cockpit, strapping him into the copilot chair as Jack lit the engines.

  “Where are the guns?” she asked, looking around frantically.

  “Guns? This is a transport ship, Vivian.”

  She sighed.

  “TM, can you get it open?” Jack asked. The little robot clicked the affirmative. The hangar door started grinding open above them, and a few moments later they were heading into the air above.

  She looked through her control port and saw a few hangar doors opening and more ships taking to the sky. “We have company,” she said. Jack didn’t answer but she felt the ship pick up speed, heading straight into the atmosphere. “Looks to be four ships and—” she broke off, eyes going wide. “And the Cudgel. It’s chasing after us too.”

  The Rey broke through the atmosphere and she looked up, seeing the Union warship above them. “The planet’s prepping to fire. They just sent out a message,” Jack said over the comm.

  “Those guns hit hard but don’t have much accuracy. We’re too small for simple targeting. But if they land a shot, we’re done. What was the message?”

  “It wasn’t sent to us. TM is deciphering it now,” Jack said. “Two ships just dropped out of warp six thousand kilometers away.”

  “What?” Vivian asked. She glanced down and saw the pursuant ships pulling out of the atmosphere below them and then a moment later she saw the first shot from the huge planet-mounted blaster cannons tear into space. The shot went wide. “They missed,” she said.

  “No,” Jack said. “They weren’t aiming for us.”

  5

  Maven Ophidian heard the message play over the bridge with mild amusement. It was ordering her ship to leave or they would be fired upon.

  “Time to leave,” she said.

  “We can fire on them!” a man said. “Why would we flee?”

  Maven had expected some response and wasn’t about to forgive this time. The officer was in the air instantly, hovering in place and crying out in pain.

  She sent pressure through her implant to squeeze against the man’s rib cage. There was a cracking sound as several ribs snapped. He screamed, a blood curdling horrible sound and then fell silent. Maven ne
ver moved as his broken ribs pierced into his heart and lungs. He floated in the air, held by her will alone.

  “Need I repeat myself?” she asked softly. She fought the urge to rub her forehead. The exertion of using her implant gave her a severe headache.

  No one offered an argument. All they had to do was look at the dying man on the floor, blood pooling around his body.

  6

  “That went way better than I expected,” Oliver said, leaning back in the copilots chair and closing his eyes. He struggled to stop his heart from doing flip flops.

  “I got shot!” Jim said. He was lying on the floor of the cockpit, wincing in pain with his back against the wall. His boot was burnt from where a bullet tore through into his foot. He’d wrapped it tightly with tape. He’d also taken some drugs to dull the pain, but they were starting to wear off. Oliver glanced down at him and narrowed his eyes.

  “So did I, if you recall,” he said. Jim waved his hand in the air.

  “I shot you in the chest. No permanent damage. Barely even dented your armor.”

  “You didn’t know it wouldn’t go through!”

  “I suspected. And hey, it worked perfectly. Why would she shoot you if I already did? My plan was flawless.”

  “Well we did both get shot,” Oliver said. Jim could only shrug.

  “That we did. I knew she had a gun. But from that distance, I never imagined she’d be so accurate.”

  Oliver lowered the ship—his new ship, that was—down to the surface of Jaril near the hospital. He requested and received clearance to touch down on the roof. The other security vessels were going back to the spaceport, and he was pleased with how things turned out.

  No one was quite sure what happened, but it hadn’t taken long for reports to target the woman as an outsider. The media was running loose with the idea that she had started the attacks.

  Oliver just hoped that no one knew their involvement. Getting arrested at the hospital would ruin his day.

  The Royal Family had no choice but to declare the treatise over with the terms broken.

  And, Oliver had been glad to see, Vivian escaped as well. He hadn’t particularly enjoyed deceiving her, but he also didn’t particularly care. After all, he’d shot the war robot and damaged its thrusters to help her escape. He considered them even.

  All that mattered was Jim was happy that the Republic and Union were flushed out of the Sector, and Oliver was happy that he had half of a new ship.

  A crowd was gathering on the roof as they touched down, and after a moment, he realized more than half of them were reporters. To be honest, he hadn’t really expected it to succeed, or worst case scenario he wouldn’t be in the middle of it.

  “Looks like we’ve got a fan club,” he said, pointing at the gathered crowd. Reporters were always better than government officials.

  “I told you, Oliver, we’re going to be famous,” Jim said, chuckling. “Just remember, when anyone asks. I’m Captain of this little piece of crap.”

  Oliver shrugged. “All right with me. And, if they ask, she shot me, right?”

  “Right,” Jim said.

  “Okay then. But don’t get too caught up in the fame just yet. We still have to go to Mali in a couple of days.”

  “What? Why?” Jim asked. Then burst out laughing when he remembered the deal. “To deliver those goddamned water purifiers? Yeah, I guess that’s the least we can do.”

  Chapter 26

  Sector 3 – Daer

  Abdullah Al Hakir, Kristi Grove, Ike Oreman

  1

  Abdullah stood in the conference hall in front of his seven chosen officers, arms folded behind his back. He surveyed their uniforms to ensure they were pressed and clean. Pristine. The four men and three women he’d selected stood at perfect attention, myriad faces impassive; eyes staring straight ahead.

  Are they respecting me or ignoring me?

  He didn’t know. He would have offered respect for any High Officer on board Denigen’s Fist. But then again, he’d never had to deal with a situation like this from their perspective: an upstart jumping to the top of the ladder.

  Only a few hours ago, Captain Grove had given him the order to select and prep his own team of officers. Jamar, her manservant, gave him a recommendation list, but he quickly scrapped it. The suggested officers were all high-born, but none of them offered anything particularly unique or helpful to Abdullah. With the new accommodations, Abdullah needed all the help he could get.

  These were enlisted officer’s, all hand selected by Abdullah. He’d known some of them personally before his promotion three days ago, but a few he knew only by reputation.

  Eddie was his only friend among the seven. Abdullah didn’t have many friends.

  But, he liked to keep track of good soldiers on board Denigen’s Fist. These were some of the best he knew of. They were skipped over for promotions because of low birth but scored top marks on all proficiency-based examinations.

  They were all near his age, either the late twenties or early thirties. Not much younger than Abdullah, who’d just passed his thirty-eighth birthday. Even then, he doubted they would consider him a peer.

  Not anymore, at least.

  Abdullah’s life was in upheaval. The ship was in upheaval. And here they were, in Sector Three, trying to find new normalcy amidst insanity.

  Thankfully most of his communications were sent electronically. There was a staff ready to relay any order to the correct location at all times of the day. Without them, Abdullah wouldn’t have had a chance. They would have realized him for the fraud he was.

  They might anyway.

  2

  “We picked up something on long range scanners,” the officer said, hands flying over the control console, tapping out a series of commands. “A shipping vessel, ID signal jammed.”

  “Get me a spec readout and lock onto their tracers. If they go to warp go after them.”

  “Should we hail them?”

  Kristi thought about it for a moment. If the ID signal was being jammed, that meant most likely this was a smuggling vessel. A smuggling vessel or one of those goddamned pit fighting ships. In either case, it was involved in illicit activities.

  And it sat here, floating in orbit above the trading planet Daer. Daer was known for its black market trade industry and corrupt officials.

  Her first duty as a Captain of the Republic’s Fleet was to protect and secure the galaxy against external threats. The likelihood of galactic war was minor, so her secondary purpose was to regulate and protect the citizens.

  She wanted to do her job, but it was made all the more difficult by corruption running rampant through the entire system. It stemmed from the top, from people like the Consul Peter Gavriel. He bought officials and forgave criminals. He’d even bought Captains, Kristi’s peers.

  The thought sickened her.

  The people of the galaxy deserved better. They deserved more than corrupt politicians who took bribes in back rooms and sold civilians to the highest bidder. They needed to know that they were safe and that there were people on their side; they needed to understand that people who did terrible things wouldn’t be tolerated.

  “Hail them, but no threats. Keep it civil and keep them occupied.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We want them to decide to flee. After it’s too late. Move us closer, but slowly. We don’t want them to think they are at risk.”

  The pilot nodded and began relaying the orders to the engine controls. The communications officer opened a channel and hailed the smugglers, acting confused and seeking reverification on everything.

  Kristi stepped over to the railing and glanced down at one of the officers sitting at the terminals below.

  “Where is Lieutenant Commander Al Hakir?”

  “He is on deck twelve, sir,” the officer reported.

  “Tell him to ready the crew. We’re going to board.”

  3

  Abdullah was handed a data pad. It contained all of the inf
ormation he would need.

  To make his decision…

  About how best to board the enemy ship…

  As soon as the alarms started blaring, a young soldier found Abdullah and led him to a station where he could deliver orders from. He’d walked in a daze, struggling to stay calm.

  “Sir?” the young woman asked. She was sitting at a terminal, waiting to relay his orders.

  Abdullah stared blankly at her. Alarms were blaring all around him. People were shouting.

  “Sir?” she repeated. “What are your orders?”

  I don’t know, Abdullah almost said. I have no idea what I’m doing. What I’m supposed to do. I don’t even remember what your name is. Sally. Or Susie. Or something. Why are we attacking smugglers? Are we sure they are smugglers? What kind of ship is this?

  But he didn’t dare ask those questions. The data pad would include all of that information, he knew. It would also include the list of all the boarding teams. Twenty members apiece. Or maybe it was twenty-two.

  He wiped his sweaty finger across the screen. Nothing happened. He tried using the cusp of his shirt to dry it off. His entire body was covered in a sheen of sweat.

  If I mess this up, is Kristi going to execute me?

  “Sir?” the young woman repeated, a concerned expression on her face.

  Will they execute her, too?

  He felt someone touch his arm. He glanced to the side and saw Jamar Paskin, a mildly bored expression on his rotund face. Abdullah remembered him as the man who spoke in the conference and Kristi’s servant.

  “Here you are, Sarah,” Jamar said, handing a data pad to the young girl. “The Lieutenant Commander asked me to hold onto these for him. It must have slipped his mind. If you would be so kind as to relay the messages?”

  The girl nodded and accepted the data pad. She turned back around in her seat, sliding a pair of headphones over her ears, and began relaying orders. Her fingers flashed over the screen at the same time as she rambled off a series of alphanumeric codes.

  Abdullah watched for a second, having no idea what was going on. Jamar put his hand on Abdullah’s shoulder and led him away.

  “We’ll let her be for now,” Jamar said.