Chapter 4
Death before dishonor!
Throughout the solar system, those words had been on every Gaean’s lips. Now the time had come for them to prove their conviction…
Bathed in the lavender light of predawn filtering through oval windows, High-Lord Freyden sat on his throne in the palace on Gaea, awaiting the ultimatum he knew must come soon. Already the outer space around the planet swarmed with monster craft. Never before, in all their previous attacks, had the Imperial Federation sent so many warships.
“Kkrypt must be impatient to see this thing finished,” he murmured to himself. “Well then, let us put an end to the waiting.”
Freyden rose to his feet and descended the throne’s tiered dais, his hands moving automatically to smooth his heavy robe of state—until he remembered he’d exchanged it for the more practical tunic of a soldier. Only the gleaming metallic girdle at his waist distinguished him as the commander of Gaeas-7’s forces.
“Wilhym,” he called to a young sentry standing at attention by the arched entranceway. “Relay the message to prepare for battle. We shall not wait for an order to surrender. They have invaded our space. We will be the first to attack.”
“Thank you, High-Lord. I’ve been hoping you’d say something like that.” Wilhym saluted and marched out with a quick, sure step.
Watching him depart, Freyden’s solid resolve almost cracked. Wilhym had just turned eighteen, just joined the fighting force. So young and so serious. So determined to die for a noble cause. A boy-man who’d fight bravely to the end, defending a free way of life he’d had so little time to appreciate.
Freyden wasn’t quite an old man yet himself, but suddenly felt like one. Old and weary to the bone. Was it worth it, he wondered. The youngest Gaeans had grown up in the shadow of this futile rebellion. They were strong and responsible beyond their years, but it seemed to Freyden they didn’t laugh like the young people of his generation had.
Granted, no one would have laughed ever under Kkrypt’s rigid rule. The Imperial Federation offered only two ways of life, master or slave, with most landing in the latter position, and the rest even worse off, whether they realized it or not. No one could oppress another without rotting himself inside, damning his own soul.
The Gaeans at least could die with a clear conscience and their integrity intact. They’d hung on to their freedom and ideals longer than anyone else in this doomed galaxy. Freyden shook off his regrets. Open rebellion might not have been the best way, but for them it had been and still was the only way.
He strode out of the throne room, up a spiral corridor, and into the Council Hall where command-reps from the other six planets stood gathered beneath the giant view-screen in the ceiling. Staring up at it, Freyden could scarcely see the stars for the many lights of the starships.
“They are that numerous around the entire system.” A stocky dwarf from Kolossus waved his arm in a broad arc. “We are completely surrounded.”
“Are the planetary deflector-shields in place?” Freyden asked.
A furry Eleskii nodded. “Yes, but they’re extremely worn down. They’ll never hold up under prolonged fire.”
“Then we’ll activate them only as a last resort. What’s the current condition of our space force?”
“In numbers, less than half what it once was—but all sound ships, armed and ready, and our best people are manning them,” Rajeed of Hel answered with a grim smile. No one expected any outcome but defeat, but all intended to make it as difficult for the enemy as possible.
“Good. Then we’ll launch an initial attack with our space force,” Freyden said. “That should surprise them.”
But not for long, he knew. Gaeas-7 would have only one good chance for attack—so they’d better make their first hit count for all it was worth.
The trick would be coordinating the strike so that all the remaining Gaean ships, stationed all over the S-system, launched at the same time without alerting their targets. That problem had already been solved, though, in the early days of the rebellion; it was one of the reasons the Gaeans had managed to hold out as long as they had.
Freyden signaled to a sentry. “Summon one of the Mage mind-links.”
There was always the risk that a technically transmitted message might be picked up by someone it wasn’t intended for—like someone in the Imperial Federation. That was why Gaeas-7 had developed the mind-link chain. Several Mages were stationed on each planet in the system. They could communicate with each other instantly via telepathy, and their messages could never be intercepted by the enemy.
“You requested a mind-link, High-Lord?”
Freyden turned at the sound of a soft voice, but saw no one until he gazed downward. Before him stood a child-sized figure, with bowed head, buried in a hooded gray robe. His resolve almost cracked again. He knew Gaeans young and old had fought side by side defending their worlds—but never any this young.
“Has Temple-Mother Tao lost her great mind, sending a babe into battle?” he muttered to himself.
As the head of the Temple of Mind, the highest learning institute on Magus, Mother Tao had always hand selected the strongest “links” for Gaeas-7’s tele-chain. Tao’s powers and insight were said to be exceptional, even for a Mage. But she never left the cloistered caverns of Magus, so few outside her own world had ever seen her. Freyden never had.
“You question my ability to relay your message, High-Lord?”
Did he detect a hint of amusement in that soft voice?”
“This morning I question everything, child. Myself most of all.” He smiled sadly. “How old are you?”
“Old enough to know that we are, all of us, only following Fate. And young enough to hope that Fate may yet guide us into the clear.” The bowed head lifted, and the hood fell back, revealing an ageless face crowned by wispy white hair. “I am Tao.”
Freyden’s smile froze.
“You are wondering what made me leave Magus?”
“Are you reading my mind, Temple-Mother?”
“No, High-Lord, merely your expression. However, behind that question, I see another in your eyes. Perhaps I am here, in part, to help you answer that one,” she mused. “You have been reconsidering the option of surrender?”
He shook his head. “No, not really. Not for long, anyway. And certainly not seriously. The decision to fight was unanimous and not mine alone. It’s just that…well, now the time has arrived…” His hands clenched. “Blast it, no good leader wants to see his people destroyed.”
“Kronos Kkrypt does it all the time,” Tao said blandly. “Of course, he is not a good one. He is no ‘leader’ at all, but a dictator. That is the difference between you, High-Lord. You lead with compassion, while he rules without mercy. That is why we will not surrender, and that is how we will win, regardless—by knowing that death is no defeat. His forces may kill us, but never conquer us.”
She looked up at the view-screen, with eyes that seemed to see beyond the warships. “There is more at stake here that just Gaeas-7. I am thinking of the whole galaxy—all those worlds that surrendered too easily and too soon. And now regret it. Perhaps our example will inspire them to join together finally, and fight back.”
“One can only hope,” Freyden murmured.
Her gaze returned to his, and she smiled. “And now that that’s settled, you have, I believe, certain messages for me to relay?”