by Ryk Brown
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Frontiers Saga Part 2: Rogue Castes
Episode #6: For the Triumph of Evil
Copyright © 2017 by Ryk Brown All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
CHAPTER ONE
Ensign Aiden Walsh had spent hours in the Cobra simulator during his training back on Kohara. Some of his sessions had been so long that he was certain he had broken some previous record. Flying a Cobra gunship was all he could think about. All he had ever wanted was to be a pilot, but he hadn’t the money to pay for flight school. The Alliance had been his only way to achieve his dream.
Originally, he had wanted to fly the famed Super Eagle jump fighters. Sleek, fast, single-seat; they were the ship of heroes; jumping in and out of combat, always keeping the enemy guessing. But he lacked the discipline required of such pilots. Discipline and connections. And so the Cobra gunship had become his billet. They were not as fast, nor as sleek, and flying them did not hold the mystic and respect that Eagle pilots carried. Even worse, they were flown in packs, using auto-flight algorithms designed by tacticians back at Alliance Fleet Command at Port Terra. Few tales spoke of heroes flying Cobra gunships, other than that of Captains Robert Nash and Gil Roselle, both of whom he and the other Cobra pilots were currently following back to the Pentaurus sector.
It could be worse, Aiden thought. I could be flying a shuttle. Aiden smiled. Now, he was not only flying a Cobra gunship, he was following the legendary Captain Nathan Scott. He was going to join the Karuzari. He was going to fight alongside the Ghatazhak, the greatest warriors known.
Of course, to do so had not only required him to go AWOL—either that or defect, he had yet to decide which it was—but he had dragged his crew and his friends along, as well, nearly getting them killed in the process. It was a fact that had bothered him for the last two and a half days, and he suspected it would bother him for some time to come.
“How many more jumps?” a voice called from behind.
Aiden glanced over his shoulder, immediately straightening up in his seat when he realized who was asking. “Uh,” he said, glancing at the auto-jump sequencer display on the center of his console, “two hundred and eighty-seven…make that two hundred and eighty-six. So, about fourteen and a half hours to go.”
“Fourteen point three, I believe,” Corporal Chesen corrected as he moved toward the copilot’s seat. “May I?”
“Of course.”
The Ghatazhak corporal stepped over the center console, making the necessary contortions to slip into the seat. He looked over the console. “It is definitely not the same one that we studied in the VR sim.”
“Yeah, I heard about that,” Aiden replied. “Seems like a pretty bad oversight on the planning side.”
“We had insufficient intelligence, which is often the case in war. That is why we are trained to adapt.”
“You were going to fly one?”
“If necessary, yes.”
“Then you’re a pilot?”
“In the sense that I know how to pilot a spacecraft, yes. All Ghatazhak are trained to do so. Although, admittedly, I have not done so in many years.”
Aiden looked at him. “But you could have? Flown one of these gunships?”
“Yes,” the corporal replied. “Not as well as you, I suspect, but I could have gotten it launched and back to the rendezvous point.” Corporal Chesen smiled, looking at Aiden. “I doubt I would have tried to bounce it off the surface of Kohara, though. That was an impressive feat. I am curious how you calculated your angle of incidence, kinetic energy loss during impact, and all the other variables involved, prior to committing to that particular maneuver.”
Now, Aiden smiled. “I got lucky.”
“Ah, then it was instinct. A very valuable talent, to be sure.”
“Actually, I thought I’d have enough thrust to pull up to a clear jump line,” Aiden admitted. “When I realized we didn’t, I was pretty sure we were all going to die.”
“Then why did you attempt the maneuver?” Corporal Chesen wondered.
Aiden shrugged his shoulders. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Had that slight downhill grade not been there to lessen your impact, and the tall, wet grass not been there, had the slope not angled quickly upward again…”
“…Like I said, I got lucky,” Aiden repeated.
“I was there. Yes, you were lucky that all those elements were present. The slopes, the wet grass… But you slightly altered course just before impact, causing us to clear the crest and strike the surface at a less dangerous angle. That was not luck, that was skill and instinct.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“However, in the future, it might be better if you were to consider your actions a bit more carefully in the heat of battle, and avoid unnecessary risks,” the corporal advised.
Aiden looked surprised. “I thought the Ghatazhak were all about risk. I mean, you guys are the greatest soldiers ever known, right?”
“We are, because the risks we take are carefully calculated in order to ensure our success,” the corporal explained.
“You’re saying you would have calculated all that stuff? The angle of impact, the drag of the surface, the transfer of kinetic energy during impact and sliding down, and then back up the grade…all of it? In the middle of battle?”
“Yes.”
“All of it?”
“All of it,” the corporal replied confidently. “Possibly more than once,” he added, a wry smile on his face.
“I don’t see how that’s even possible,” Aiden insisted, shaking his head.
“It is all part of a Ghatazhak’s training.”
“They taught you to do such equations in your head?”
“There are no calculators on the battlefield,” the corporal replied. “Nor time to use them if there were.”
“What else did they teach you?” Aiden asked.
“Many things: science, philosophy, economics, psychology, religion, physics, astrophysics—many, many things. And of course, all things combat-related.”
“I had no idea,” Aiden admitted. “I always thought…”
“That the Ghatazhak were just highly-trained killers,” Corporal Chesen said, finishing Aiden’s sentence for him.
“Sorry, I meant no disrespect.”
“None was taken,” the Ghatazhak corporal assured him. “Such misconceptions were the result of the Ybaran Legions, and the rule of Caius Ta’Akar.”
“The Ybaran Legions?” Aiden wondered.
“Brutal, bloodthirsty men, made that way by difficult and torturous living conditions on a harsh world not originally of their choosing. They were trained in none of the disci
plines I listed. Only in the art of combat, and they were quite adept at it, to be sure.”
“Why them?”
“The empire of Caius grew quickly. It is a mistake made often by those seeking power. Be it in power or business; they were seeking to grow beyond their means of logistics and support,” Corporal Chesen explained. “The original Karuzari recognized this, and took advantage, taking down Caius’s forces, bit by bit. The Ybarans were a marginalized segment of Takaran society. Caius recognized their strength, and made them into a new form of Ghatazhak.”
“Sort of a Ghatazhak-light?”
Corporal Chesen looked confused. “If by that you mean not as completely trained as the real Ghatazhak, then yes. The Ybaran Legions possessed only the combat training and hardware of the Ghatazhak, but none of the knowledge and intellectual ability needed to use them. They were men willing to kill in the name of Caius, in order to gain the people their rightful status in Takaran society.”
“And did they?” Aiden wondered.
“For a time, yes. But they backed the wrong noblemen, and that was their undoing.”
“What happened to them?”
“Their entire world was destroyed only a few weeks ago by the Dusahn,” Corporal Chesen replied, “for refusing to pay proper respect to their conquerors.”
“The Dusahn wiped out their entire world?” Aiden questioned in disbelief.
“From orbit. Men, women, children, the elderly; Ybara is now a complete wasteland, as is Lawrence.”
“Lawrence?”
“The world that was our home,” Corporal Chesen replied, his voice taking on a somber tone, “until recently.”
“They destroyed your homeworld, as well?”
“Our adopted homeworld, yes.”
Aiden suddenly felt ashamed. “I didn’t know.”
“How could you?” Corporal Chesen said, hoping to assuage Aiden’s guilt.
“I guess we all assumed the Ghatazhak returned to Takara. Isn’t that where you’re all from?”
“Yes, but we could not in good conscience align ourselves with men who claimed noble title, yet did little to deserve it.”
“But aren’t you fighting to free Takara?”
“For her people…our people, yes… Freedom for those calling themselves nobles will be an unfortunate side effect,” the corporal explained. “We fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. We fight those who believe they can lay claim to whatever they wish, simply because they have the power to do so. That is why the Ghatazhak were created centuries ago.”
“I thought you were all programmed,” Aiden said, still appearing confused. “Some sort of brainwashing to make you all obedient.”
“In a way, yes, but only for a time,” the corporal replied. “You see, the Ghatazhak are trained equally. Every man, from trooper to general, is just as capable. Each would come to the same decision, given the same situation and intelligence. It was necessary, since a battlefield could easily be separated from command by time and space. But it is also what makes us so lethal. No order is unsuspected; no order is met with hesitation or uncertainty because each man would give the same order, were the responsibility to fall on his shoulders. When Caius rose to power, this worried him. He wanted the Ghatazhak to be feared, not respected.”
“So, they programmed you to be more brutal?”
“They tried, but it did not work. Our training and mental discipline was too great. Hence, the need for the Ybaran Legions. The best they could achieve was to ensure each Ghatazhak’s loyalty to his commander, and he to his, and so on up the line. This edict was counter to neither our training, nor our oath. But even that did not hold.”
“What do you mean?” Aiden asked.
“The programming had to be refreshed too frequently, which made the Ghatazhak difficult to deploy,” Corporal Chesen explained. “Once the ranks of the Ybaran Legions had grown to sufficient size, the true Ghatazhak were put into stasis, with only a few hundred kept awake, mostly acting as either palace guards, or to serve as instructors for the Ybaran Legions.”
“Weren’t some of you programmed to protect Captain Scott?” Aiden asked.
“After Caius was assassinated, yes. Fifty of us were given to the captain as a gift from Prince Casimir, and were programmed to protect him and assist him in his quest to liberate Earth, just as he had liberated the Pentaurus cluster, and the Ghatazhak.”
“Then you’re still programmed to serve him?” Aiden asked. “Captain Scott?”
“I was not among the first Ghatazhak assigned to Captain Scott. However, their programming wore off long ago, before he surrendered to the Jung. Those of us who followed had no programming at all.”
“Yet, you are still willing to follow him into battle?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” the corporal replied. “Our commander believes that Captain Scott has the instincts and leadership abilities to unite humanity.”
“And you agree with him?”
“I know of no Ghatazhak who disagrees with the general’s assessment.” Corporal Chesen looked quizzically at Aiden. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“As I understand it, you made a rather sudden choice to follow Captain Scott, as well. I suspect this choice, much like your choice to jump in and defend the last few departing gunships, was made purely on instinct. Am I wrong?”
“No, I suppose you’re right,” Aiden admitted. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“I suspect that statement is inaccurate,” the corporal said, trying not to sound like he was making an accusation.
“I meant at the time,” Aiden added.
“Ah, I see. Another human male who takes action without forethought. This tendency fascinates me.”
“There is such a thing as thinking too much,” Aiden said in his defense.
“A more accurate statement would be that it is possible to take too long to make a decision.”
“You know what I meant.”
Corporal Chesen smiled. “I am having fun with you, Ensign.”
“Ghatazhak have fun?”
Corporal Chesen recognized that Ensign Walsh was having fun with him, as well. “If I might ask, why did you choose to abandon your life on a whim, and follow Captain Scott?”
“It seemed like the right thing to do at the moment,” Aiden replied.
“Without any evidence to support your decision?”
“Yup,” Aiden replied as he checked the auto-jump sequencer display again.
“The Ghatazhak would consider your actions foolhardy, at best,” Corporal Chesen said as he rose from his seat.
“Kinda my style,” Aiden muttered, more to himself than to the corporal.
Corporal Chesen climbed back over the center console, moving behind Aiden and patting him on the shoulder as he passed. “You and Captain Scott will get along quite well.”
Aiden stared at his console, pretending to be monitoring his gunship’s status displays, unsure of how to respond. So many thoughts were racing through his mind, the most important of which was: if his perception of the Ghatazhak had been so wrong, perhaps his perception of Captain Scott was questionable, as well.
* * *
“I don’t think I’ve gotten a single question that wasn’t about the Ghatazhak attack on Kohara since it happened!” President Scott declared, throwing his hands up in frustration as he stormed through the doors of his office. “Has the entire sector forgotten we’re still only a stone’s throw away from an all-out war with the Jung? Have they forgotten that most of us are still recovering from the last war with the Jung?”
“Kata Mun’s latest broadcast isn’t helping matters as much as we’d hoped,” Miri stated as she followed her father through the double doors.
“If anyone, I thought she would be more objective,” Mister Daley stated as he too entered the office, directly on their heels.
“I think she was,” Miri insisted. “At least, in comparison with all the others.”
&nbs
p; “Because she didn’t come right out and accuse the president of collusion?” Mister Daley said.
“No one has accused us of collusion, John,” President Scott insisted.
“Not in so many words, no, but the public will interpret it that way. That’s why they phrase things the way they do.”
“Nevertheless, there was no collusion, so there is nothing to worry about.”
“Respectfully, Mister President, I disagree. False evidence has been used throughout the digital age…much of it difficult to disprove. The old position of knowing one’s self to be innocent is no longer enough.”
Miri looked at her father. “He is right about that, I’m afraid.”
“Draft up a counter statement to Miss Mun’s piece for me to review,” President Scott instructed his press secretary. “Quick as you can. The faster we reply, the more ‘off the cuff’ it will appear, and hopefully the more credible.”
“Yes, Mister President,” Mister Daley replied.
“And key points only,” the president added. “Let’s not give the press anything else to spin.”
“Of course,” Mister Daley replied, turning to exit.
Miri stood quietly, waiting for Mister Daley to close the door on his way out, and then a few extra seconds for the sound suppression fields to kick in. “If the press discovers Nathan was here on Earth, and that you spoke with him before the attack…”
“I know…”
“There will be no stopping them. No statement from you, or anyone else, will dissuade the public…”
“And it will give Galiardi even more leverage,” the president added with a sigh as he plopped down in the chair behind his desk. “As happy as I am that my son is still alive, I fear his actions have put us in a difficult situation.”
“It was not his intent,” Miri defended.
“Intentions are irrelevant in politics. Actions and results are all that matters. The public learned long ago that words are meaningless…”
“Except when they’re being spewed from the mouths of their favorite broadcasters,” Miri corrected.
“Unfortunately, you are correct.”
“You reviewed all the security camera files from the arena?” the president asked.
