The Shattering: Omnibus

by Van Allen Plexico

  “Oh, I don’t mean your precious Lords of Fire,” Iapetus said contemptuously.

  Tamerlane frowned but said nothing, waiting.

  “Come now, General. We both know of whom I speak. Your so-called Nizam Legion is available, and by all reports fully trained and armed.”

  “My—?” Tamerlane blurted the one word, then closed his mouth and simply glared back at Iapetus. For his part, the II Legion commander stood still, arms crossed over the golden eye on his chest, his expression blank. Always watching, the eye seemed to be saying. Apparently watching even more than Tamerlane had realized. He cursed inwardly, knowing he shouldn’t be surprised.

  Tamerlane glanced back at Delain. “Why,” he asked softly, rhetorically, “do I feel as if everyone in this Empire knows more about what’s going on than I do?”

  “I’m not certain that fact makes you the most qualified to run it,” Iapetus observed.

  “I never asked to run it!” Tamerlane almost shouted, whirling on Iapetus. “I’m not the Emperor. I’m not the Taiko. I’m just a soldier—just a man.”

  “So now you’re just a man again? Not a god?”

  Tamerlane held Iapetus’s gaze. “Yes. A man. But I am the man to whom, for better or for worse, the task has fallen of defending all our worlds and all our people. And I’m going to do the best I can at that, even if I have to die trying.”

  Iapetus took this in and nodded. “Commendable.” He looked Tamerlane up and down, as if seeing him anew. “Perhaps I have misjudged you,” he allowed. “A tiny bit, at least.” He shrugged one last time. “Perhaps you and your forces will hold the line longer than I expected. If so, that will give my legion a marginally better chance to prepare for the enemy before they reach the Earth.” The “inevitably” that preceded “reach the Earth” was unspoken but obvious to everyone present.

  Tamerlane stood there, saying nothing. Iapetus pursed his lips, then said, “So—if there’s nothing else, General?”

  Tamerlane shook his head. He was angry and felt somehow defeated. He offered Iapetus a dismissive wave. The II Legion commander turned on his heel and strode easily out of the strategium. Minutes later, the Atlantia had separated from the Ascanius and was turning to jump to hyper once again.

  Tamerlane exited the strategium, Delain in tow. As they walked, Delain shocked Tamerlane by actually speaking. “How did Iapetus know about your secret Nizam Legion?”

  The general practically gawked at her, then recovered, happy at least that she seemed to be growing comfortable enough around him to engage in conversation.

  “I don’t know. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, but I have to admit it concerns me. It can’t possibly be good.” He stopped walking and turned back to her. “But…you knew, too?”

  The woman in black smiled. “Come now, General. You are well aware of the organization I serve—and the resources it possesses.” She shrugged slightly, and to Tamerlane’s surprise he found it somehow endearing. “Besides—how could I be of any real service to you, if I didn’t know everything already?”

  Tamerlane found he had no answer for that. He merely nodded, then stood there in the corridor, rubbing at his eyes, his head suddenly pounding. “I’m going to my quarters for a bit,” he told her. “I have some important decisions to make, and very soon. I need to think things over.”

  The walk to his quarters was fairly short. When he reached the door, he turned back and realized with a start that the lady Inquisitor had silently followed him. As the door hissed open, he said, “Delain, I’m sorry—I must not have made myself clear. I won’t be needing you for a bit.”

  “I disagree,” replied the woman in black. She strode past him, through the open doorway.

  Puzzled, he followed her in. “Um—is there something you need, Inquisitor?”

  “Just the opposite,” she said, her voice smooth and soft now. “As you said, you have important decisions to make very soon. And you are entirely too distracted, too wound up at present to adequately consider them. And so—” She pulled back her hood, unfastened the clasp at her neck, and let her cloak fall to the ground. Then, bending over, she unzipped her skintight black bodysuit in one quick motion and let it fall to the ground.

  He stared at her, astounded. Quickly he recovered and, his throat suddenly dry, asked, “So—this is merely duty, then?”

  “There is that component to it,” she replied. “But I will not lie and say there is nothing more. If so, I would’ve merely challenged you to a game of chess.”

  “I...see.”

  She stepped closer, gazing at him, meeting his eyes almost defiantly, as though daring him to object.

  He did not.

  So content was Tamerlane, so at peace for the first time in a very long time, that he didn’t even notice the door chime sounding. On perhaps its third repetition he opened his eyes, grumbled something unintelligible, and crawled out of bed, grabbing a crimson robe from where it lay draped over a nearby chair and pulling it on. He stepped around Sister Delain’s uniform, boots and cloak; they still lay where she had left them. He opened the door and peered out. “Yes?”

  Teluria, Imperial Ecclesiarch and vizier to the Taiko, stood just outside, hands on hips, resplendent in her silky red robes. Her hood was drawn back and he realized with a start that her straight, dark hair almost eerily resembled Delain’s. Her expression was one of impatience at first but then, as her gaze moved from the disheveled general to the clothing and boots on the floor and the curved shape still in his bed, she smiled wickedly.

  “Well, General—I see that I may have misjudged you. Perhaps you are more fully... human... than I had come to believe.”

  Tamerlane didn’t bother to reply to this. He moved to position himself between Teluria and the woman in his bed. “Can I help you?” he asked gruffly.

  “To the contrary,” the woman in red stated, still smiling, “I believe I may be able to help you—and the Empire, in the process, of course.”

  Delain was awake and sitting up now, a sheet clutched to her chest. As Tamerlane glanced back at her, she became aware of the other person’s presence at the door. Realizing the identity of that person, she reddened. Slipping out of the bed, she quickly retrieved her clothing from the floor and began to dress. Tamerlane raised a hand, motioning for her to stay back.

  Teluria paid all of this no attention. She spoke directly to Tamerlane. “You are considering sending military forces to assault Rameses on Ahknaton,” she said, “but you hold back because you are concerned with overcoming his quite formidable orbital defenses, and what such an operation would mean in terms of potentially massive losses to your legion. Your personal legion.”

  This time Tamerlane didn’t bother to act surprised. He’d come to grips with the idea that, in this Empire, there simply were no secrets. He merely nodded.

  “I believe I can offer a solution to that dilemma,” the woman in red went on.

  “You have access to Rameses’ security codes, then?” Tamerlane asked, intrigued. “You can disable his orbital defenses—open the front door for us?”

  “Oh, I can do better than open the front door, General,” Teluria replied, and now the smile was back, broader than ever. She gave Delain one more quick, amused glance, then turned back to Tamerlane. “How would you like for your legion, in all its glory, to walk right into the heart of the Heliopolis itself?”

  10

  Elaro was nearly knocked out of the bed as Niobe Arani sat straight up and gasped.

  “Nightmare?” he asked, but she shushed him with a quick sound and a wave. He realized then what was happening: a message across the Aether network.

  Awake now, he sat up as well and then stood, reaching for his uniform. Still groggy, he was puzzled at first by the clothing that lay on the floor on his side of the bed. It was neither of his uniforms; not the Gaurean planetary defense force outfit he’d arrived in, and not his actual legion’s uniform. Then the events of the last day clicked into place and he remembered that, as far as anyone
here knew, he was now a loyal member of...of whatever army this was. Not only that, he was now a major. And getting very close in particular to its commander, Colonel Niobe Arani.

  The assassination attempt had been exactly what he’d needed. It was hard to believe it had just happened, given that it had worked so well to boost his standing here. As far as he was aware, it hadn’t been part of the operation. For all he knew, the deadly woman he’d taken down the day before really had been a hired assassin aiming to kill Arani. Then again, knowing who he actually worked for, Elaro had to admit there was a strong possibility the entire thing had been staged. If the latter was true, the would-be assassin would never admit it.

  Elaro finished donning his uniform; it was a charcoal-gray number with a thick, heavy texture, but it was remarkably soft and light. He strapped on his belt with holster and fitted his blast pistol into it. Then he looked over at Arani. She was still engaged with someone via the Aether.

  He sized the woman up, appreciating her fully. She was remarkably young for a colonel in the I Legion; perhaps late twenties. Rumor had it she had been directly involved in the events that led to the death of the Emperor and the rise of the Taiko, Nakamura. If that was true, it explained a lot. Moments of massive turmoil and change usually provided the best opportunities for junior officers to very rapidly become senior officers.

  He studied her while she “spoke” telepathically over the link. Her lips were bright red and full, and were moving ever so slightly as she communicated. Her hair was at least shoulder-length and straight and black, and her face reflected predominantly Asian features. She was slender and very athletic, as he’d confirmed over the past few hours. He found he liked her a lot. He hoped he wouldn’t be ordered to kill her. Prior to meeting her in person, he’d assumed he could do it if he had to, but now he found himself beginning to question whether he could, and whether he would.

  The conversation ended and she shook her head, coming back to reality, then looked up at him and smiled. “Sorry,” she said. “I had to take that.”

  “New orders from the highers-up?”

  She nodded. “I have to assemble a strike team.”

  “Okay. Where are we going?”

  “We?” She laughed. “Pretty confident you’ll be chosen.”

  He shrugged. “Sure am. So—?”

  “I can’t tell you where,” she said.

  “Hmm. Then what’s the objective?”

  “Can’t tell you that, either.”

  She moved across the bed on her knees, the sheet wrapped around her. He leaned down and kissed her. “At least, not quite yet,” she added, smiling again.

  “Right.” He straightened and walked to the door of her quarters, opening it slightly. He peeked out at the broad courtyard; it was still early and the troops hadn’t been called out yet for exercises and training. “A mission to nowhere, to do nothing. Got it. Sounds like every mission I’ve ever been sent on.”

  She laughed again. “Then I suppose you are qualified. Fine—you’re on the team.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You knew when you came here—when you signed up for this army—that everything we do, everything we are is top secret. Right?”

  “Oh yeah, I knew that. It was made very clear by the guys who recruited me back home.”

  “And you still wanted to join. You didn’t ask too many questions—or they would’ve ruled you out, sent you packing.”

  He shrugged. “They said they were part of a new military force, secret even from most of the Imperial government, but with the objective of keeping all the worlds of the Empire safe. Sounded good to me.” He snorted. “Plus, they said they had access to the best weapons and equipment—better than anything I’d ever get my hands on as a member of a planetary defense force.” He grinned at her. “I told them they might be surprised what I’ve gotten my hands on, over the years.”

  She laughed with him at that.

  “They wouldn’t tell me who was behind it, or what it was called, or just about anything else,” he went on. “They just said to report to the spaceport at such and such a time, and board that shuttle. I thought about rejecting the whole thing outright, what with all the secrecy.”

  She nodded. “I’m sure a lot do.”

  “Still,” he said, “it sounded like a good opportunity. And an important thing to be doing. So—here I am.”

  “Yes. Here you are.” Her eyes sparkled.

  He came back across the little room to her and they kissed for a few seconds. Then she broke away and began to dress. When she was done, she started for the door. He got there first and opened it for her, waiting as she passed through. She paused halfway, looked back at him, and grinned. “Okay,” she said. “You’ve tortured it out of me. I’ll tell you two things. One: we are called the Nizam Legion.”

  “Nizam?”

  “There’s a historical connection of some kind,” Arani said, waving it away impatiently. “And two: we’re going to—”

  “Ahknaton,” Elaro said over the private, encrypted Aether link. He stood under a tree, off to one side of the practice and exercise field, facing away. The sound of gunfire echoed all around, from troops training with various sorts of weapons being provided to them by their new organization. Colonel Arani was back at the center of things, as always, barking orders and organizing the strike team.

  Silence on the other end of the link for a moment, then, “Ah. Of course,” came the reply. “Hardly surprising, given Tamerlane’s recent obsessions.” A laugh followed. “I didn’t believe he would actually take me up on that suggestion. He must be even more desperate than I assumed.”

  Elaro waited patiently, not particularly clear on what the other was talking about and not particularly anxious to know.

  “Alright,” came the voice. “You have done well, Major. Or—should I address you by your rank in your current force?”

  “She actually promoted me to major yesterday, sir,” he replied. “It helps keep things straight, I must say.”

  Laughter. Then, “Keep up the good work, Major Elaro. Keep me informed. Perhaps, when this is all over, you’ll gain a promotion from me, too—a promotion that actually matters.”

  Elaro nodded to himself. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Do your best on Ahknaton. I have no love for Rameses. The man is a fool, and a charlatan, and deserves to die. If I can’t do the work myself, I’d be pleased to hear that you did it.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  Just like that, the link closed. Elaro turned. Colonel Arani was standing there. She was staring up at his face, her own expression slightly puzzled.

  “Everything alright, Major?” she asked.

  “Yes. Fine,” he said, flashing her a half-smile. “Just taking a little break. How is the organizing of the strike team going?”

  “Very well, I believe,” she said. She looked at him for another lingering moment, then turned and started back toward the center of the field, clearly expecting that he should follow. He did.

  “We leave in an hour. The shuttles will be arriving at any moment.”

  “Understood.”

  She pointed toward a group of soldiers, mostly male but with a few females mixed in, who were standing apart from the others near the center of the field. “That’s the team. Get to know them as best you can, before we go.”

  “Will do.” He separated from her and headed toward the group.

  “Major?” she called to him a couple of seconds later, halting and staring back at him.

  He stopped and looked across the short distance at her. “Yes, Colonel?”

  “I can count on you, can’t I? I would hate to find out I have misjudged you somehow. On any count.”

  Elaro blinked, then smiled. “Absolutely, Colonel. I am yours to command. Entirely.”

  She continued to regard him for another moment, then nodded and continued on her way.

  She suspects something, he told himself. She’s a lot sharper than I was led to believe. She’s a lot
more a lot of things than I was led to believe. He walked the rest of the way over to the assembled team, but his mind was still on Niobe Arani. I hope, for her sake, she isn’t that sharp. Because I don’t want to have to kill her. I would, of course, he quickly reassured himself, but I would hate having to do it.

  As he reached out and began to shake hands and clap backs with the chosen men and women of the strike team, however, his thoughts remained on Arani. Is anything I just told myself true? he wondered. Could I kill her? Would I?

  To his utter bewilderment, he found he had no answers.

  11

  Agrippa made his decision.

  Minutes earlier, after his brief mental conversation with the representative of the Dyonari, he had attempted to contact General Tamerlane aboard the flagship Ascanius and fill him in on the strange new developments. No link could be made, however. Then he tried to reach his second, Colonel Iksander, currently in command of the bulk of III Legion’s forces here on Eingrad-6. No luck there, either. Something in the area was blocking all Aether connections. Thus the decision fell to him alone: Should he meet with the Dyonari? Should he trust the Dyonari? Should he expose himself to the ancient aliens and whatever scheme they might be carrying out?

  Or was the alternative—refusing to even talk with them face to face—even worse?

  He deliberated internally for all of two minutes before reaching a conclusion.

  “Stay here,” he ordered the others in the cabin of the hovertank. Then, fitting his helmet over his head, he snapped the locks in place and reached out to grasp the rim of the hatchway, ignoring the thin layer of ice that had formed around it. With surprising quickness and strength he hauled his massive, armored bulk up through the opening and out onto the turret.

  Dense, smoky air swirled around him as he climbed down onto the deck and then hopped down onto the muddy ground. He looked down, saw that he was still holding his quad-rifle in one gloved hand, considered that fact for a moment, and set it down on the tank’s rear deck. Then he strode forward, moving like a tank himself as he set off across the field; moving like a god; like one of Those Who Remain come to do battle.