Resolute Glory (The War for Terra Book 8) Page 14

  “What a waste of time…” the Centurion said as his ship felt the first vibrations of atmosphere. “Now to a worthy task.”

  Henry swore he could feel the heat of the plasma explosion even through the thick environment suit. He tightened his grasp on Glory as they floated through space towards the derelict carrier. The android woman wore no suit and seemed comfortable in the vacuum. For Henry, that was probably the worst part. Hanging on to another soldier travelling from one ship to another … that, he could deal with it. The bare hand of the woman, however, was unnerving in a way he couldn’t justify.

  They flew silently through the debris, coming just under the damaged hull of Trinity. As they moved within a meter, Glory reached out further than Henry would have believed her arm could have stretched, and grasped an exposed piece of hull. Henry felt his arm nearly tugged from the socket as they came to a sudden stop and he let out a howl of pain unheard by anyone. His head hurt and the stars began to close in on him as Glory pulled them in closer to a gaping hole in the ship. The woman swung Henry around and into the exposed section. He flew uncontrolled into a far wall and hit hard and another howl of pain threatened to remove Henry from the world. As his eyes closed, however, Glory’s face appeared in his vision. He used the image to hold on to reality as she pulled him to the deck plate below.

  Henry magnetized his boots and regained some semblance of up and down as they looked around the damaged room. It appeared to be quarters for one of the thousand member crew of the ship. Even after being used as a target by the Ch’Tauk, evidence of the former inhabitants were visible. A frame, stuck to the wall with strong magnets, had stayed sealed tight. The smiling faces of people probably long dead gave Henry a chill.

  There was no power to the system until Glory worked her magic on the door. Golden tendrils emerged from her fingers and threaded into the frame. After a few seconds, the door opened onto a dark corridor.

  They made their way along the pitch black hallway, travelling by suit HUDs and Glory’s on-board sensors towards the engineering hull. The journey lasted an eternity up stairs and along mag-lev tracks. Henry wanted to turn his suit lighting on, but they still needed to hide from the Ch’Tauk patrols outside. Occasionally, glimpses of stars could be seen through holes burnt in the hull. Henry swore each time he could see one of the insectoid vessels shadowing their progress, waiting for a moment to get a clear shot.

  They finally reached the doorway to the engineering section. Built-in radiation and air seals designed to protect the crew during emergencies were still in place. It had been the most likely place for survivors to stay, and the only place Glory had suggested they go.

  Henry pulled the pistol from his holster as Glory opened the outer airlock. Stepping inside the coffin-like enclosure gave Henry another pang of a headache. They were getting worse as they got closer to Earth, but it was a price he was willing to pay for Emma.

  They waited as the pressure seal cycled. Henry was surprised to hear alarms rising outside, signaling the presence of air. As the door opened into blackness again, Henry raised his pistol and activated the lights on the outside of his helmet. Instead of illuminating the room, the visor darkened as bright lights flared on around them. Just before his vision went dark, Henry had time to glimpse a figure standing directly in front of him holding a weapon.

  He felt arms grab his sides and wrest the pistol from his hand. He struggled against the captors, but what felt like steel cables wrapped around his upper body and lifted him from the ground.

  “Well, well, well,” a familiar voice echoed inside his helmet. “Who do we have here?”

  The visor lightened and Henry was stunned to see dozens of people standing around him. Each had a rifle or pistol pointed in his direction. To his surprise, Glory was standing calmly with the others, staring back at him. He looked down and saw thickly muscled arms, two sets, holding him tight. The final shock came when he spied the owner of the voice … a face he hadn’t expected to ever find here or in any place again.

  “Henry,” Connor Jakes said with an evil grin. “I was just thinkin’ about you.”

  18

  Carrier Zeus

  Farthing sat in the uncomfortable chair among his peers and tried to focus on the briefing. Humans had never been able to design seating for his kind that didn’t cramp his legs or result in a bruise along his long flanks. His seat on Resolute had been customized by Roy Booth to accommodate his size and anatomy, and he had requested a similar arrangement on board Kongo and had been satisfied with the results. The bench-chair arrangement of the briefing room on board Dalton’s Zeus was utilitarian but did not afford the few Vadne any luxuries. To make matters worse, the briefing had already run twice as long as he had expected and showed no sign of ending soon.

  Dalton had detailed each captain’s activities during the lead-up to the coming assault on the Gizzeen as a series of steps. Individual instruction left most of the captains bored and frustrated, and Farthing was left to wonder where the admiral was during all of this. Chang had yet to make an appearance. It was either a tremendous show of faith in the quirky fleet captain or a stalling tactic to give the admiral more time. Nothing was ever done without the admiral’s approval, and Farthing could not believe the man had allowed the tedium of the meeting to persist for so long.

  A sharp crack from behind drew Farthing’s attention. For a moment, he noticed the captains surrounding him and how many appeared to have been startled from sleep. As he looked back, he saw one of the lieutenants who’d accompanied the commanders fumbling with a chair. The young human appeared to have walked into the bench and toppled a stack of data pads Dalton had been using to demonstrate his strategies. The crowd chuckled before calming down. Farthing abandoned the bench to stand, stretching his long legs out and glancing around the room.

  As the other captains settled back into their seats, a single golden head stood out from the back of the room. Farthing recognized his comms officer among the assorted human and Tonal commanders. It was obvious she was searching for someone, and his suspicions were confirmed when she spotted him and waved. She had a concerned crease splitting her usually symmetrical features and it made him worry. The Vadne captain stepped back over the chair and made his way along the outer bulkhead towards her. Normally, the smell of the other species would be an assault on his senses but the recyclers appeared to be working well on this ship. He barely noticed the scent of boredom on anyone.

  “Lieutenant Ralep?” Farthing said, noticing the scent of distress on her. “You were to wait outside.”

  “I’m sorry, Captain but this could not wait. I have a relayed message from … well … it’s from Vadne and it’s—”

  “As a comms officer you should not stammer so,” Farthing replied. “Please tell me what this message is about.”

  “It’s your father,” Relap said, breathless from the strain. “It’s a live transmission and it sounds urgent.”

  “My father?” the Vadne captain replied, his crest rising. “A live transmission, you say? Please, let’s step outside.”

  Farthing escorted the woman from the room. Behind him, the voice of Captain Dalton droned on, describing a standard assault tactic to a captain ten years his senior. As the door slid shut on the briefing room, Farthing breathed a sigh of relief. They moved slightly further down the corridor to find some privacy. Relap did not sweat but she was flushing a darker color gold, which made her appear almost bronze, like a living statue. When they were far enough down the hall so as not to be disturbed, Farthing took the data pad from the woman’s hands.

  “Can Zeus track this call?” he asked her.

  “Negative, and even if they could, it’s encoded to you directly,” she replied. “I used your code to receive. I’m sorry, sir. If I had known I would have waited.”

  Farthing thumbed the access pad on the device to pull up the screen. An image of the home world he had only barely been to in the last decade appeared. His father’s face, nearly covering the entire image,
stared back with his crest held high and a new burn mark along his left cheek. Farthing’s ears picked up the sound of plasma rifle fire in the background. It was obvious the situation was far grimmer than he’d suspected.

  “Father,” Farthing said, careful to keep the concern from his smooth voice. “What has happened?”

  “I don’t have time to explain further, but we need help, son,” Sterling replied. “Whatever you may have heard about our world, it is a lie. The Chancellor has seized control by force and installed Ch’Tauk soldiers to enforce his law.”

  “Ch’Tauk soldiers holding Vadne ground…” Farthing said quietly. “What is your status?”

  “Not good. I am with the Drachma and Ringgit at the satellite station near Kardac city. Our forces are outnumbered by these Ch’Tauk warrior class monstrosities. We are asking for your help.”

  “Father, I am part of the fleet, I cannot simply leave my duties here,” Farthing replied. “We are preparing the final assault on the Gizzeen.”

  “This is your home…” Sterling replied, growling out Farthing’s true name in Vadne. “Your first duty is to your people. I understand you have allies in that fleet we could use. Our home fleet has fled in the face of the Ch’Tauk and Gizzeen.”

  “You speak of the Barathists,” Farthing replied. “Those traitors are not worthy of our home any longer, Father. We cannot trust them.”

  “War makes strange mates, my son,” Sterling replied. “You need to contact our fleet and bring aid right away.”

  “I cannot order any…”

  Farthing knew his crest had risen and filled at the sight but didn’t care. There were screams as he heard the sound of mechanical feet marching across marble. For the first time, Farthing could see the wide granite walls of the satellite relay station in the background. It was a facility built before M-space travel and was less Spartan than the newer stations. He knew the facility would be the perfect place to make a stand because of the thick walls and sturdy stone buttresses. After a moment of chaos, Sterling’s face returned to the screen. His crest was up but not fully. Farthing saw the damage to the fleshy base of his skull. There were more mechanical sounds followed by the all too familiar sound of rifles and grenades.

  “Son, this is what we are facing,” Sterling said in a breathless pant. “We cannot last long. I must go now.”

  For a moment, Farthing thought his father had left. Instead, it appeared the camera was torn from the console it had been built into. There was a rumble of static across the data pad as the device was lifted and turned. Farthing first saw the bodies of Vadne soldiers scattered along the floor surrounding the console. As the image rose, the face of the enemy became clear.

  Thick, armored claws rasped along the floor as the Ch’Tauk warrior advanced towards the camera. The creatures were vaguely Ch’Tauk shaped, but with a steel-gray armor case. The back of the armor was wide, with hoses and pipes circling the abdomen on both sides. The long arms were encased in built-in weaponry, which was tearing away at the defenders. Atop the body was a wide oval covering the head. There was no trace of the shiny black armor of the Ch’Tauk. All that was visible was the shadow of death wrapped in an armored shell.

  “Vadne needs its children,” Sterling’s voice called distantly. “…and I need mine.”

  The image cut abruptly. Farthing panted, waiting for the image to blink back on. He held the data pad in his long fingers, trying to interpret what he had seen in the context of his home. He had never had the best relationship with his father, so the plea for his help was irresistible. He could feel his jaws working, teeth gnashing.

  “I’m sorry, Farthing…” The voice of Admiral Chang startled the captain into dropping the data pad. “I really am.”

  “Admiral?” the Vadne replied. “I did not hear you. What did you hear?”

  “Enough to know our longest and most powerful ally should not be counted on in the coming battle,” Chang replied. “I hope your family survives the siege.”

  “Survives?” Farthing growled. “We aren’t going to their assistance?”

  “I have a plan to reclaim this galaxy from the Ch’Tauk and their cousins,” Chang replied, shaking his head. “I cannot spare any ships for Vadne at this time.”

  Farthing was dumbfounded. He had given his life and his loyalty to the Alliance and its predecessor, and to hear the man he had defended declare the same people would not come to their aid was fantastic.

  The small human looked up at the captain and straightened his uniform. Chang turned and walked past Farthing towards the briefing room. Before he knew what he was doing, Farthing had grasped the back of the Chang’s uniform and pulled him back. The admiral’s breath was forced from his lungs as he was slammed against the wall by the powerful arms of the angry captain.

  “How dare you turn your back on me?” Farthing roared. “The Vadne have given you your command, given you your world back, and you return this courtesy with dishonor?”

  “Where were your people when our world was taken?” Chang wheezed. “Your people stood by and waited for humans to come begging before you acted.”

  “So this is vengeance?” Farthing said, lifting the man from the floor and bringing his fangs close to his face. “How long have you waited for this day you honorless cur?”

  “Captain!” the sound of Dalton’s voice halted Farthing. “Stand down and release that man!”

  Farthing brought his face within a millimeter of the admiral’s. He knew the scent of the raw meat he had consumed during his last meal would create an instinctive fear in the human. He stared into the man’s eyes and gave a deep-throated growl. There was no scent of fear and no blinking from the man. As far as Farthing could tell, the admiral was as calm as when he had first spoken. It was unnerving.

  “This changes everything,” Farthing whispered into the man’s face. “It is you who should hope for survival now.”

  The sound of a rifle bolt being pulled back halted Farthing. The admiral stared back into his eyes even as he was lowered to the floor. Farthing pulled his claws from the fabric of the admiral’s duty uniform and then the arms of two burly security guards pulled him back. Despite his size, the two men were able to nearly pull him to the ground before the admiral stopped them. Dalton stood just behind Chang as the admiral stepped closer. The fleet captain appeared ready to shoot Farthing himself if he made a move.

  “I can forgive these actions from a man who probably just saw his own father murdered,” Chang said quietly. “I cannot forgive it from a captain. You are relieved from duty. Go home if you want, Farthing. I don’t care anymore. I’ve got a war to win.”

  The man stepped back and turned again. The disrespect of seeing the man’s back twice in one encounter was complete for Farthing. He watched as Dalton escorted the admiral back into the briefing room. With a final glance in his direction, the door shut behind them. The hands holding him down released him and he stood.

  The guards stayed close as Farthing regained his feet. Standing nearby, Relap stared in horror. The woman was young and had not been in many battles, and now it appeared she might be forced out of the next. Farthing straightened his own uniform and moved away. After several steps, he realized the girl was still at his side.

  “Return to the ship, Lieutenant,” Farthing said. “I am no longer your captain to follow.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, sir,” Relap said in an awed whisper. “I can make up my own mind who to follow.”

  The two walked for a while until coming to the nearest mag-lev station. Farthing would need to return to the ship to retrieve his personal effects, but didn’t feel like facing the ship just now. He stepped into the cart and waited as the golden-skinned woman joined him, then the mag-lev shot off towards the landing bay of the ship. Relap tapped keys on the data pad. As the cart slowed to a stop, she looked back to him.

  “Captain, I have a message for you,” she said, handing him the data pad. “It looks important.”

  Farthing took the pad.
As he read the message, he knew his crest was rising again. He took a deep breath and stood, stepping past the woman to the platform room. She stood and he extended an arm to assist her. It was an old movement but one he felt showed his respect for her. As they left, he glanced back at the message on the pad. It was short but told him everything he needed to know.

  We stand ready to assist – Lira.

  As they walked down to the corridor to the landing bay, Relap stayed in perfect step beside him. It reminded him of his own loyalty to Captain Pearce so long ago. It was a loyalty he hoped to reward someday.

  “Relap,” Farthing said, dropping her rank as he knew she was already considering. “I need you to contact someone for me. We have a lot of work to do.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “And, Lieutenant…” Farthing said, considering his options. “Get me a weather report from the surface.”

  19

  Walapacku

  The transport shuttle slewed sideways as a blast of polar air whipped the craft around. In the blinding snowstorm, the pilot’s best chance for survival was to find his target and land as quickly as possible. Announcing the arrival of the Walapacku autumn season, the storm had grown exponentially across the northern hemisphere, cutting off all but the most determined beings from entry to the islands. The shuttle, bulky and designed for harsh conditions, was able to handle most of the buffeting, but the lower altitudes on final approach were becoming unstable and difficult to manage. Invisible beams searched the planet below for its destination among the island chains. When a break in the snow appeared, the shuttle nosed downwards towards a landing pad visible only with instruments.