by Finn Gray
“Indeed I do. You must know that the war is over. You have lost.” Talia let his words hang.
“We’re not beaten,” Lina said. “But that can’t be the only reason you reached out to us.”
“I am offering you the opportunity to bring this all to a peaceful end.”
“Peaceful? It’s too late for that. You’ve brought unspeakable carnage on your own people,” Lina said.
Graves looked down at the private vid feed between himself and Laws. He shook his head. Laws acknowledged him with a nod of agreement. They’d served together long enough that they could read one another well.
“Regrettable, but necessary to unmake an oppressive system,” Talia said. “One which you have sat atop your entire life. The powerful families have had ample opportunities to share wealth and power, to build a more equitable system. But that didn’t happen, because that would mean that the Empire Twins couldn’t enjoy their luxury vacations and their lives as the empire’s little darlings.”
Graves was pleased to see that Lina did not take the bait. Those in the know were well aware that only one of the two twins sought the spotlight, but that didn’t change public perception. In the eyes of some, Lina would forever be tarred with the same brush as her sister.
“Obviously, you and I see things differently,” Lina said. “You say you are suing for peace?”
“On the contrary, Catalina, I am offering peace.”
Lina glanced at Graves, who nodded and motioned for her to continue.
“What terms are you offering?”
The bridge rocked and the feed crackled as Dragonfly suffered a hit from a Memnon missile. If they truly wanted peace, they had a funny way of showing it.
Graves muted his mic and called out. “XO! Damage report?”
“It struck us on the starboard side at the cargo deck,” Patel said. “We’re losing pressure.”
“Seal it off,” Graves said. “And pull back.”
“Roger.”
In his ear, Talia was outlining the Memnon’s terms.
“Unconditional surrender. You will surrender control of all your ships, your weapons down to your side arms. Everything.”
“And what happens then?” Lina asked.
“The civilians will be transported to Thetis. They will be given homes and responsibilities, and may resume normal life. As we are able, we will attempt to reunite families that have been divided by the transition between governments.”
“Transition between governments,” Lina said. “That’s one term for it. Another would be ‘wholesale slaughter.’”
Talia grimaced. “Please listen to reason. We want to save the human race, not wipe it out.”
“You have a plan for the civilians. What about our service personnel?”
“They will be transitioned to civilian life after being vetted. It will take some time, but we will free every man and woman who is willing to abide peacefully in New Memnon.”
“We will need time to consider your terms,” Lina said.
“Fine. Take all the time you need,” Talia said. “But we do not stop fighting until you have accepted our terms.”
“We need the opportunity to discuss this without the distraction of fighting a battle,” Lina said.
“You can’t have it.”
“If you cannot hold your weapons for an hour, how can you expect us to believe we will be allowed to live in peace going forward?”
“You cannot dictate terms when you have no leverage,” Talia said.
“You’re correct, of course,” Lina said. “But you’re playing a high-stakes game. Because your pioneer ships are out there somewhere. And so are my Mongooses. Every one I could get my hands on, and all of them armed with nukes.”
Graves frowned at her. She shrugged and flashed an apologetic smile.
“Our fleet is well-defended,” Talia said.
“Your fleet is hardly defended at all. That’s why you added defensive weaponry to your pioneers. Because you knew you’d be spreading yourselves thin out of necessity.”
“Mongooses?” Talia forced an insincere laugh. “You’re woefully outgunned.”
Lina smiled. “I can tell you’re a businessman, Mister Talia, and not a military man. Even I know this isn’t a matter of firepower.” She lowered her voice. “All it takes is just a few of our birds to slip past your big, cumbersome dreadnoughts, and your great migration is over.”
Graves couldn’t help but smile at the girl’s bluff.
“You’re lying,” Talia said. “And even if you aren’t, you’ll never find our fleet in time.”
“As I said, it’s a high-stakes game, Governor.”
She’d chosen the perfect moment to grant him the title he craved, and to do it in a polite way, without a trace of mockery.
“We will give you one hour,” Talia said. “On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You must permit me to address the fleet.”
On his vid, Graves saw Laws hastily mute all the commanders’ feeds before they could interrupt.
“Why would you want to do that?”
“I want the people to hear the truth about New Memnon directly from us, not some version of the truth you’ve twisted to fit your agenda. I want to lay out our vision for a new society. It could go a long way toward a peaceful transition for everyone.”
Lina frowned. Graves could tell she was stalling.
“Admiral, what are your thoughts?” Lina asked.
Now it was Laws’ turn to think. Outside the battle continued. The Memnons continued to drive them closer together. Time was running short.
“The military channels are easy, but it will take at least ten minutes, perhaps a few more, to link up all the civilian ships.”
“Very well,” Talia said. “I’ll pass the word for our forces to stand down for one hour. If you violate our terms in any way, the battle resumes.”
Lina nodded solemnly. “We have an agreement.”
Laws cut the connection with Talia. She unmuted the commanders and gave them a few seconds to fume before bringing them to order.
“It’s obviously bullshit,” she said. “They tried to take out the civilian fleet and failed. They wouldn’t have even attempted it if they were interested in saving the human race. This is just another ploy of some sort.”
“But we don’t know what their plan is,” Gary Scott protested.
“In the absence of that knowledge,” Commander Vatcher said, “I recommend that whatever they want from us, we do the opposite.”
“I agree,” Graves said. “Her Majesty has bought us an hour to come up with and execute a plan to destroy the Brick and keep as many ships alive as possible until they can spin up their QE drives and execute the jump.”
“What about his speech?” Levin asked. “Are we really going to let him address the fleet?”
“Gods, no,” Laws said. “I have no intention of linking his feed up with the entire fleet, but he doesn’t need to know that.”
As the commanders submitted damage reports and discussed strategy, Patel pulled Graves aside.
“Commander,” she said. “We’ve got readings from the satellite defense network. Weapons are arming.”
Graves’ heart sank. So the control center was in the hands of the Memnons. That meant Hunter had failed. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“Not for us, but we’ve been driven so far back that most of our fleet is now within its range.”
“That’s not good. Any more bad news?”
“I don’t know if it’s bad news, necessarily, but do you know who Talia’s son is?”
“Obviously not.”
Patel put her hands on her hips and tapped her toe like a disapproving mother. “He’s a pilot on your ship!”
And then Graves remembered.
“Recess!”
Chapter 35
Stone Mountain Base, Hyperion
Oates led the way up the stairwell, followed closely by Tama and Manuwa. T
hey’d surprised a pair of armed guards along the way, and the two huge islanders had made quick work of them. Now that they were all armed, Oates felt better about their chances. He wasn’t confident, but he felt better.
“Which level are we going to?” Manuwa asked. They were the first words the man had spoken since leaving the lab.
“All the way up to the roof,” Oates said.
“I thought there’d be a control room of some sort,” Manuwa said.
“There is, and if all goes well, we’ll get to it eventually. But if we only take out the control room, they can hook up a new set of controls in no time. We’re going to destroy the weapon itself.”
Manuwa nodded. “As long as I get to kill some fucking Memnons.”
“That, my new friend, is the plan. We’re going to take out as many as we can.”
“You lied to the kid,” Tama said. “You’re not going to make any effort to get out of here, are you?”
Oates couldn’t answer. The lump in his throat rendered him speechless. He wasn’t the least bit afraid of dying. It was the thought of losing Becca again that tugged at his heart. If he could at least see her away safely, then he could die in peace.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Tama went on. “I don’t give a flying fuck what happens to me. I just don’t want my death to be for nothing.”
They reached the landing at the top level. Tama and Manuwa were winded, and Oates couldn’t fault them. They’d been strapped to hospital beds for the gods knew how long. They paused, breathing heavily. After a few seconds, they indicated they were ready.
“This floor is one of the mechanical levels,” Oates said. “We might encounter some engineers, but they’ll be armed. And as you know, everyone here is also a soldier. Be ready.”
He took a deep breath, and opened the door just enough to see inside. The space was a brightly lit maze of pillars, electrical panels, cables, piping, and wiring. According to Becca’s directions, a trapdoor at the far end of this level would gain them access to a roof directly above the weapon the Memnons called Nyx, after the goddess of night.
He heard the voices of engineers at work. Small chance the three men could make it all the way through without being spotted. They’d have to take their chances.
Communicating by hand signals, he led the others inside. They hugged the near wall, moving slowly, eyes peeled for Memnons. He soon spotted a woman with a mechanical arm and leg, busy wiring a panel. He motioned for the others to cover him, and crept up behind her. Odd how all his old training and instincts had returned. In his mind, he was once again Captain Charles Oates, leading his troops into battle.
It was too easy. The engineer was so fixated on her task that she didn’t know he was there until his hand was covering her nose and mouth, and his knife slicing through her throat. She struggled, thrashed, and fought, not seeming to realize she was already dead. When it was over, he helped himself to her sidearm and moved on.
I wouldn’t mind if they all went that easily.
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than an alarm blared and a voice rang out over the com system.
Security alert red. All stations lock down. Security alert red. All stations lock down.
“Gods!” Tama grunted. “Those old farts must have already started their hell raising.”
“No point in sneaking now,” Manuwa said. The gleam in his eye indicated he was more than ready to raise some hell of his own.
“Walk at a normal pace,” Oates said. “Try and look a little confused, even. Now that the alarm has been raised, either running or creeping will draw unwanted attention. Those hospital jumpsuits you’re wearing are close enough to the color of the engineer’s coveralls that they should pass at a distance.”
The men reluctantly fell into step with Oates. Now that there was no need for stealth, they stopped hugging the wall and began winding their way through the confused tangle of panels and pipes, trying to take the shortest path to the opposite corner.
They hadn’t made it far before they encountered a group of panicked engineers scurrying toward the exit. The group froze in front of Oates and his comrades.
“These men aren’t…” the man in the lead began before a single shot from Tama’s pistol bored a hole in his skull.
So much for stealth, Oates thought, opening fire with both pistols, taking out two more Memnons.
Despite their zeal, Tama and Manuwa fought intelligently, hitting what they aimed at and expending no more ammunition than necessary. When the Memnons before them lay in a heap, they moved on. Oates still resisted the urge to run. The gunshots had announced that the attack that was underway had reached this level, but no one knew who was attacking. By not acting suspiciously, they’d bought themselves a moment to get the drop on the last group of Memnons. The same strategy still applied.
Five minutes and five more encounters later, they found themselves climbing up to the trapdoor that would lead them out to the Nyx. To a man, the engineers they encountered had been utterly unprepared for the sudden, violent onslaught of Oates and the islanders. Few had their weapons at the ready, and only a handful had managed to get off any shots before they fell. With each skirmish, Oates’ respect for his new comrades grew. A shame the three of them wouldn’t live to fight together again. With these two at his back, Oates could deal out some serious damage to the Memnons.
Somewhere in the distance, he heard orders being barked out. Security had arrived. Foolish of them to give themselves away like that. But that wasn’t his concern at the moment.
Reaching the trapdoor, he entered the code Becca had given him and pushed it open. He clambered out with Manuwa on his heels. Down below, shots rang out and Tama let out a pained grunt.
“Motherless bastards! They got me.” Manuwa and Oates turned to offer him a hand but Tama climbed out on his own. “Just grazed my calf. Pissed me off more than anything.”
“Now they know where we are and can probably guess what we’re up to. If they think we’ve got a chance to disable the weapon, they might go ahead and use it.”
“What does this weapon do, exactly?”
“In broad strokes, it’s an energy weapon that sets off a chain reaction, destroying everything in close proximity to the primary target.”
Tama ran a hand through his thick black hair. “But they need the fleet bunched up in order to use it effectively. How do they plan on making that happen?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. Even if they only hit one of our major warships, it could vaporize it. We need to disable the fucker before that happens.”
“We’ll plant Manuwa’s fat ass on the trapdoor. The Memnons will never get it open,” Tama said.
“I don’t think that thing is bulletproof. I really don’t want a slug up my ass if I can help it. And don’t make any jokes about other things going up my ass. I’m not in the mood.”
“Pun intended?” Tama quipped.
“Piss off. I’ll guard the door. You help Oates.” With that, Manuwa limped over to a nearby satellite dish, wrenched it free from its pedestal, and laid it atop the trapdoor.
Oates left him to his work. He trotted over to the edge of the roof and looked down to see the Nyx directly beneath them. It was essentially a massive satellite dish, with a hole a meter across set in the center.
“What do we do?” Tama asked.
“We’ve got to get one of these grenades down into that hole in the middle.”
Tama nodded. “Should be simple enough. The thing’s concave, eventually the grenade will roll on in, like water down the drain, won’t it?”
“Before it explodes? The grenade needs to reach the core in order for it to be effective.”
“I see the problem.”
A loud, whirring sound filled the air and a dark shape slowly rose from down below, followed by another.
“Drones,” Tama said. “They’re already onto us.”
A cold certainly hung heavy in Oates’ gut. There was only one thing to do. “I’m going to have
to climb down there and drop the grenades directly in. It’s the only thing that will give us a good chance of success.”
To his credit, Tama didn’t argue, but the look in his eyes, a mix of sympathy and determination, said he understood.
“We knew this was a one-way trip,” he said. “I’ll try to keep the drones off of you.” With that, he unslung the rifle strapped across his back and got down on his stomach. “Time’s wasting old man.”
Oates gave a curt nod. “It’s been a privilege.”
Oates turned, grabbed the edge of the roof, and dropped down. He hung there for a second, getting full extension in order to bring his feet as close to the edge of the weapon as possible. Then he let go.
Chapter 36
Southgull Island, Hyperion
The shadows crept closer. Vera’s finger itched to pull the trigger, yet she hesitated. Shooting down a fighter at distance, launching a missile, those were situations in which the target was easily dehumanized. In those cases, she was firing at a machine, or a spot on a map. But using a handgun to blow holes in a person standing meters from you? The very thought made the back of her neck itch.
But the Memnons aren’t human, especially not after what they did today.
Cold sweat dripped down the backs of her hands. Her weapon felt heavy, as if merely keeping it level was a gargantuan feat. Her breath came in deep, heaving gasps.
The shadows moved closer. Two figures approached. They remained close to the wall, inching forward. She caught the glint of metal.
One of them was armed.
Instinctively, she fired off a shot. It missed badly.
“Vera!” Hunter came running up and took up a position on the other side of the entrance. “What is it?”
“Two people creeping up on us. One of them armed. I took a shot and they ducked back down the passageway.”
Hunter frowned. “Memnons?”
Vera shrugged.
A man’s voice called out from the darkness. “We are not Memnons. I swear it.”
“We were held captive,” a woman’s voice added. We escaped. Please help us.”
