“Or I’m going to have to defeat Magron somehow on my own without im shalal,” Aiben said. “Either way, I agree that it seems like a pretty difficult task.”
In reality, even with im shalal, Aiben had no idea if he could defeat an opponent alone that even Oand-ib hadn’t been able to stand against. Although he now knew who he was and how im shalal worked, he didn’t know how much Nograth knew, or what he might have done over the centuries to prepare himself for the device’s attack. He was still just a cybermancer acolyte.
On the other hand, he couldn’t help but think that Tulan probably would have failed to destroy Nograth given the opportunity generations ago as well, judging by his progenitor’s sense of moral character. Tulan would have needed Aiben’s resolve to overcome those Haman moral boundaries, just as he now needed Tulan’s confidence to overcome his own fears of inadequacy. Without im shalal, though, he felt that self-assurance ebbing away. The loss of Tulan’s weapon seemed to smother the faith Aiben had found in his alter ego.
His arm itched. He scratched along the bandage and his fingernail, grown long and dirty over the past several days, snagged a fray and pulled back the gauze. Underneath, the pinkness of his healing wound peeked out. The nanomechs had finally started to mend torn flesh. Maybe Tulan would still help him figure a way out of this, after all.
“Listen, you know these people, Achanei, right?” Neikkia spoke up. “You grew up under the tutelage of Geth Atregis, remember? They’ll get us to Magron. They’ll help us defeat him. And then we can go home and heal our wounds.”
“I hope you’re right,” Achanei said.
The itching in Aiben’s arm gave way to pins and needles. Panic towered up from a dark pit in his stomach as he constructed in his mind the prospect of never making it home. He forced himself to be calm. Where was home now anyway? Besti or Ilud’hi ai Rahan?
“How much longer?” Jiab pleaded again like a spoiled child still not satisfied with an adult’s answer.
“Soon, I hope. I can’t take any more of your whining.” Neikkia balled up a fist, but Jiab was expecting the jab and swiped it away before she could knock him in the shoulder.
“Aiben, if you will please cyberlink to the hyperportal,” Lev-9 said, “we’re ready for you to send us into normal space.”
“Now?” The two wide-eyed Oobellians echoed each other.
“Yes.”
“I hope you’re right, Neikkia,” Aiben said, but looked at Achanei instead.
“She is,” Achanei nodded back at him, her tone softening.
Aiben hooked his mind into the hypernet and drilled the lockout code into Morgoloth’s hyperportal. He directed the gateway to grab the hyperspatial fabric, yank it taut, and bounce their tiny ship out of the hyperspace wrinkles into normal space, where they landed right into the thick of a raging space battle!
CHAPTER 41
Jolen Darrius Tain III strode onto the bridge of Queen Tenok. He was a man looking for an audience. His self-appointed air of importance billowed all around him. He settled into his best negotiating posture next to Admiral Atregis who stood at stark attention on the foredeck facing the crackling holo-projector. The bustle of officers and crewmembers setting to the task of making their ship battle-ready had already animated the bridge. Not one of them took notice of the performer that suddenly walked the stage in their midst, except House Feillion’s Fleet Admiral, who eyed the man with disdain.
Geth had been carefully scrutinizing the interwoven bands of light that formed the three-dimensional model of Morgoloth’s system. He wanted to be sure that Magron Orcris was sticking to their agreement of safe passage before he committed the lives of House Feillion’s men and women to this cause. Presently, he returned his attention to the virtual map of space, letting the silence ripen to unease. Jolen started to fidget. Inwardly, Geth found it quite satisfying to see the man’s nervousness surface because of his lack of discipline.
Once the admiral was satisfied that the blackness enveloping them was devoid of enemy warships, except for the two Zenzani dreadnaughts that the terms of the agreement allowed to circle the globe with them, he quietly allowed the breath he’d been holding to egress. The Protectorate had sent the rest of their home fleet out of the system, but he knew they would be just one hyperportal jump away. That was okay, though. Tain-Balmor’s agent had sent them the master code days ago and it would let their forces through the gateway just as easy as Magron’s. He hoped their supporters in the Seven Guild’s government had been able to amass more ships in the meantime for their side in the coming battle.
Geth let himself loosen up just enough to dab his brow with the cuff of his uniform, but this small indulgence took advantage of him and he felt a growing uneasiness of his own come upon him. His palms started to sweat and his nose itch, but he wouldn’t dare scratch it, afraid his discomfort would become apparent and shatter the steel façade of the warrior he wanted Jolen to see. Maybe Jolen wasn’t the only player in the game for attention and admiration, he thought sourly, but pushed the thought just as quickly aside. He couldn’t afford to pick himself apart for improvement now. He had to regain composure. Soon, he would be talking face to face with the most ruthless man this galaxy had known since the days of legend.
He glanced down at the gold-plated chronometer clasped at his wrist. Lord Jorod Feillion, head of House Feillion, had given it to him as a gift. It was a reminder to the Admiral of his service par excellence for many decades in the Noble House’s employ. Its surface caught the light of the holo-emitter and bounced it into his eyes, causing him to blink at the tiny retinal spots it created.
For all its beauty and worth, it was nothing more than a fancy timepiece, counting down to the very moments when the planetary shield would deactivate and Jolen’s agent would come through the portal with the cybermancer who was supposed to do the ultimate deed. Mere seconds remained now before it began and Geth couldn’t help but wonder why Jorod had placed such faith in Tain-Balmor’s intelligence on this mission.
This time, he let a loud breath seep out and then affected the most confident, most unbroken voice he could muster. “Are you ready, Mr. Tain? There’ll be no stopping the bloodshed after this point.”
Jolen nodded, tight, black curls of hair springing with the momentum. Tain-Balmor’s president suddenly looked as if the admiral’s statement had knocked the wind from his sails of vanity. His eyes were waxing glassy. Geth wondered if the man were having real second thoughts about what he had gotten his company into, now that reality was about to be forced upon them. Nevertheless, it was too late to mull it over; a vibration from the admiral’s chronometer heralded the time for the charade to begin.
“Communications Officer!” Fleet Admiral Atregis barked. “Please dial into the pre-appointed frequency and make contact with Morgoloth.”
Instantly, a new flurry of colors sprang up from the holographic projector, sweeping away the cold view of space and hardening into an even colder view of a face masked beneath the deep shadow of a mailed hood. No matter how hard he tried, Geth couldn’t put details to the man’s features. He wouldn’t have been able to tell if this were Magron Orcris, anyway, except for the feeling of dread that crawled up his spine like an arachnid fleeing for its life.
The Fleet Admiral’s greeting caught in his throat and he found himself unsure of how to address the man. He swore silently at himself for not having checked with his protocol staff first. Jolen jumped in to recover the fumble. It was reflex.
“Excellency, on behalf of Tain-Balmor and House Feillion, we greet you. I am President Jolen Tain III of Tain-Balmor and this is Fleet Admiral Geth Atregis of House Feillion.” Jolen spread on his thickest diplomatic face. A minute ago, he was a gasping fish, now he had just been plopped back into a bowl of water. “We have arrived as agreed to speak with you about bringing peace between our two governments.”
“The Zenzani Protectorate welcomes you and your entourage, Mr. President.” Magron’s voice was like hot, fluid
metal. Geth stiffened at being referred to as entourage. “You may send down your negotiators to parley. I hope they’re prepared to put forth the effort to find a solution that will stop this storm of war and appease the vengeance of my people, Mr. Tain.”
“Yes, your Excellency, we have that very goal in mind.”
“Then I look forward to seeing what you have at your disposal. I will give the command and the appointed grid in my shield network will lower in five standard minutes. Only then will Morgoloth’s port control feed your navigation the coordinates to reach the rendezvous point we agreed upon.”
“Thank you, Excellency.” Jolen inclined his head. Magron returned the gesture and then evaporated away in a shower of sparkles.
“Battle Stations!” Admiral Atregis yelled immediately. Jolen had known how to be the diplomat, now it was his turn to be the soldier. “I want every pilot on both vessels loaded-up and ready to fly on my command. Navigation, make sure the slave circuits for the Merchant One are hot and get us in as close as you can to that planet without hitting the shields. Weapons Control, set your targeting sensors high-res and keep your fingers on those firing studs, but don’t dare cut loose until I give the order.”
If the bridge of Queen Tenok hadn’t already been fervent enough, it now blazed like wildfire during a drought. Someone had thought to give the ship’s computer permission to drone out a five-minute countdown and the metallic voice punctuated the hurried pace. Sounds of bridge officers yelping orders down along their chain of commands turned the bridge into a deafening amphitheater where everyone was playing out their part. It was reminiscent of a hectic, but well-choreographed operatic ballet, everyone on his or her toes, voices reaching crescendo, the stage teeming with a sense of purpose. Each man and woman in the command center readied themselves to sacrifice their lives, if need be, to wage a war to end a war.
When there were but ten seconds left on the countdown, the song-and-dance of war preparation ended and utter silence washed over the deck. Not even the slight sound of breathing permeated the air as everyone held their breath for the moment. When the ship’s voice struck zero, a momentary flash of beautiful spectral color lit up a swath of Morgoloth’s surface and quickly faded, signaling the area where the shield had come down.
Admiral Atregis gave a curt nod to his Communications Officer, and a second later, three transports dropped out of the bays in Queen Tenok’s belly and descended towards the shield opening. Everyone glued their eyes to the main holoprojector for the two minutes it took the ships to reach the shield’s threshold. As they passed through, the admiral sucked in a sharp breath, no longer caring about his decorum. Colorful light had suddenly jumped across the nodes of the shield grid and destroyed the transports in its jaws of energy. They had reactivated the shield.
“Our element of surprise has been compromised!” Jolen cried. “It’s clear our earlier exchange with Magron was nothing more than honey-lipped lies and both of us knew it.”
“We don’t have time to worry about that now, Mr. Tain,” the Admiral responded, and then raised his voice for everyone to hear. “Launch all fighter wings now! Have them target those two dreadnaughts and commence firing as soon as they are out of the bays. Main guns provide cover and…” but the rest of his command didn’t make it out. Queen Tenok shook violently under the impact of the dreadnaughts’ energy cannons. He managed to steady himself with a handful of railing. “Get the main hyperportal propped open with the code from our friends at Tain-Balmor. We need the rest of our fleet here now!”
Fighters were regurgitated from Queen Tenok and Merchant One layer after layer. The hyperportal activated and a storm of battle ships from House Feillion and the Expeditionary Guild spilled through into Morgoloth’s space. A tsunami of Protectorate cruisers slammed out in their wake. Energy cannons and missiles pockmarked space as ship turned on ship and released the fury of war.
“Without the transport’s seeker missiles to bring down the shield, what are we going to do?” Jolen’s eyes darted frantically around the bridge. “There’s got be something we can do. There’s always another way.”
The scream of the damage report klaxons pierced the bridge. Overloaded systems and control consoles erupted in explosions all around them.
The admiral shook his head. “We’ll have to make whatever stand we can and pray for a miracle. War seldom offers second chances, Mr. Tain, but we should consider our backup plan and have a new set of seeker missiles programmed and loaded onto our captured Zenzani fighter just in case we do get that shield open again.”
“Should we consider retreating?” For the first time since the admiral had met him, Jolen’s face gathered up in genuine panic. His hypnotic eyes reflected nothing but fear.
“There’s no retreating. The Protectorate’s entire home fleet is presently between us and the hyperportal. No, we’re committed to this fight. Our only avenue now is to inflict as much damage as we can to the enemy before we’re destroyed.”
“Wait a minute,” Jolen fixated on his chronometer.
Geth’s own gold-plated service award began to vibrate anew. It was time for the second phase of the failed ruse to begin. Jolen thrust a finger at the auxiliary holoprojector that had been watching the hyperportal. The Fleet Admiral turned to look just as a spatial tear cracked open its mouth and spit out a tiny ship.
“If we could just get the man on that ship down to Morgoloth,” Jolen lamented.
“It might have worked, yes, had the shield been down when they got here. We have to face the fact that our plan has likely failed, Mr. President.”
***
“And the battle for the fate of the galaxy begins again!” It was dramatic and sarcastic all at the same time. Selat was shuffling through the obscurity of the deactivated holochamber, hissing to himself. “It’s too bad that I was forced to dispose of that Moolag. His information about this peace mission was quite valuable after all, wasn’t it?”
Magron stood in the entrance of the holochamber, his back to Selat. He was commanding a brace of generals who would carry out his orders to decimate what was left of the false peace mission.
“Where is Supreme Commander Hezit?” the Agar Hegirith demanded.
“He came through the primary hyperportal just before the double-crossing Guilders came into communications range,” one of the generals replied. His hair was sparse military fuzz. His large ears slanted out unfettered. He had the type of profile that was one solid straight line from the top of his forehead to the tip of his nose. “He spent some considerable time in orbit and was preparing for reentry when the shield closed on him. He hasn’t come through any of the sections in the shield grid that command codes will open. We have to assume he has engaged hostile fire.”
“Continue the offensive as outlined then,” Magron ordered.
Both men gave the Agar Hegirith a hasty nod and sped off down the hall towards the inviting doors of a lift.
“Oh, Hezit will come, I’m sure of it,” Selat cackled. Crimson eyes pricked at Magron’s back. “He was just waiting for the rest of our conspiracy to show up.”
CHAPTER 42
“Why aren’t we heading towards Morgoloth yet?” Achanei pressed into the launch’s small cockpit with Aiben and Lev-9 who had already squeezed in behind the Oobellians in their flight couches.
“Morgoloth’s planetary shield network is still intact,” Lev-9 said.
Neikkia’s furry digits played the keys of her scanning console. “I’m picking up debris from several ships in low orbit where Lev said the shields should have gone down to let the peace envoy through.”
“Great, so there’s another wrinkle in the plan,” Achanei moaned. “A big wrinkle.”
“And that wasn't the only battle going on.” Aiben pointed out the view port just as their ship came around the far side of the planet. All around them, powerful daggers of focused light sliced into space.
“It looks like both the Seven Guilds and Protectorate fleets are out there,” Jiab said. He l
ooked up from his console and over his shoulder at Achanei. The fur on the back of his neck was quivering and she could see some of the gray roots that showed his true age. “We’re pretty well outnumbered and most of the fighters being picked off out there are not Zenzani.”
“This doesn’t sound very promising,” Achanei's voice seeped despair. Then her eye caught it. “Wait, look over there, it’s Queen Tenok, my family’s flagship!”
Missiles propelled from Protectorate battleships were speeding towards Queen Tenok. She deflected most of them with her defense grids, but some got through and impacted against her hull, tearing off metal chunks and spitting them into space.
“They won’t last much longer under fire like that,” Aiben said.
“They will,” Achanei assured him. “The best admiral in the entire Seven Guilds is commanding that ship. If he can’t do something, then no one can.”
“Wait a moment.” The lights on Lev-9’s sensor band were rapidly blinking. “I’m in contact with my colleagues on Tain-Balmor’s ship, Merchant One. I’m ascertaining the situation.”
There was complete silence as cybermancers and special operative Oobellians looked at each other and waited for the mechanoid’s report. After a few eternal seconds, Lev-9’s metallic timbre gave them instructions. “Jiab, does this launch have a com-laser?” He waited for the Oobellian to nod affirmative. “Good, can you please use it to send a point-to-point message to the receiver at grid 6 by 12 by 7?”
Neikkia quickly pinpointed the location within the three-dimensional grid that sliced up Morgoloth’s system. “That’s the Queen Tenok.”
“Precisely. Jolen Tain, my employer, is on the bridge of that ship with Admiral Atregis.” Lev-9 wedged himself into the small space between the pilot and copilot seats. “They wish to speak with me.”
Jiab set up the umbilical between their ship and the Noble House’s battle cruiser. The heads-up holodisplay stitched together the faces of President Tain and Admiral Atregis with its brilliant fibers of light. Despondent green eyes from one, and the serious scowl of another greeted them.