Doomed Cargo Page 15
“It is said that Sulon will rise again from the ashes in the form of an orphan girl, Sulon’s direct descendant, given unto her deliverers, and become the destroyer of destroyers. She would be known as N’halo, hailed by all as savior.”
Silence dropped over Tawny and Ben like the eye of a storm. They looked at each other, both reticent to hear more, fearing what might come next. But the voice continued:
“You are in possession of Sulon’s lineage, the one called N’halo. She has been brought to you so that you may deliver her to the N’hana people of Sarcon. It is as the prophecy goes. You must protect her with your very lives, because there are greater things at work than you.”
Ben sat heavily down on the corner of the portside workstation and buried his head in his hands. He looked back up and groaned, “Protect her. Very lives, and such.” A grim chuckle. “That’s great.”
“I know this story,” Tawny said.
Ben looked at her. Her eyes were unblinking, just staring at the floor, filling with the residue of tears. Inside her gaze was an entire lifetime remembered.
She continued, “Every Raylon child knows this story. We used to stare up at the sky, at Sarcon, and we’d dream that N’halo would come and rescue us. An orphan. A girl who’d rise from the ashes.” Her voice was faraway, and it chilled Ben straight to his bones. “I used to think it was me, that one day I’d become N’halo.”
The voice broke in and said, “No, you are sadly mistaken. You are not N’halo.” It paused as if for punctuation, and said, “You are N’halo’s deliverer. That … is your task.”
“Oh, gods. She’s here,” Tawny whispered.
“Tawny?” Ben said.
She stood up, went to the cockpit exit staring down the metal corridor ribbed with bulkheads and toward the main hold at the back. The children were still eating, murmuring amongst themselves. They had no idea what sat among them—a prophesied one, unassuming, gorgeous, a wonderful little creature.
She was called N’halo of the N’hana of Sarcon.
Her name was Sireela.
Tawny said, “This is real.”
“Sweetheart?”
She snapped a look at him with an expression he’d never seen. It was both deadly and frightened. “Benji, I have to believe. I’ve always believed. Maybe it was just a stupid little girl’s hope, or an orphan’s dream, I don’t know. But it was real to me. It was who I was. And now this? I don’t have a choice. Whoever this … this person is, they’re right. This is bigger than us. Even bigger than you and me.”
He went to her, put his hands on her shoulders and guided her toward him, both looking deeply into the other’s eyes. He said, “Babe?”
The look she gave him was tragic, sad, but filled with the light of hope. “Benji, I—” Her words trailed off as she put her face into his chest. A deep silence fell between them, the unspeakable note of truth falling over them.
The voice said, “Anyway, that’s what makes you two the perfect element in the formula. That’s why I reached you. That … is what makes you good.”
Ben released her, consumed in his own doubt. He flicked his lips—up, down, up, down—went to the starboard control panel looking into space, thinking, tapping a finger against the panel. He whispered, “Maybe it wasn’t so stupid after all.” Coming to a sudden need to know, he spun to the holopad and said, “Then there’s only one question left. And dare I even ask it.” He swallowed, taking a breath. “So, who is this creator of yours?”
The voice said, “There is one thing in common among all systems of faith: An entity, whether it is a being or a force, that opposes goodness. It wants to destroy autonomy, end hope, burn entire worlds. It is the raper of dreams. Its face is horror, its hands are terror, its very breath is death. It has many names in many tongues. But in all my journey toward understanding, only one encompasses them all. Evil. My creator is that element.”
Ben moaned with dark displeasure, and rubbed his face almost violently. He said, “That would seem to answer the question, but, uh … can you be more specific, maybe a little less dramatic—you know, for my sake?”
“Like me, they have many designations. The beast. Dark light. Devils and demons. In the empirical realm, they are most known throughout the solar twins as the Obsalom Order.”
The Obsalom Order.
The words struck at Ben unexpectedly from a deep past. It brought back reflections of grim, battle torn moonscapes, the sound of ripper explosions and screaming, the memory of deep, sleepless nights.
Obsalom Order.
His mouth opened and out whispered the dreaded sound, “Obsalom?”
“Yes,” the voice answered.
“Ae’ahm …”
Tawny squinted at him, saw his resignation. “What is it?”
He muttered, “I had to ask, didn’t I?”
“Benji?”
“I think you’re right, baby. This just got a little too real.”
She put her hands on him, turned him around. “What is Obsalom Order?”
He paced back and forth along the rear deck, hands on his hips. He murmured, “I always thought they were myth. We all did. Back in the Red Guard we’d hear stories, underground stuff, crimes of war. They were like nightmares, always connected to the Obsalom Order. It was more like the boogeyman.”
“What are they?”
He stopped pacing and said, “They’re a heavy, sweetheart. And I mean a heavy.” Started pacing again, back and forth. “They’re an underground type of thing. Secret order. Interplanetary terrorist group. I didn’t know they really existed. No one did. There was never any real evidence, just hearsay and scuttlebutt.”
“Were they Imperium?”
“No one knows. They only hit targets along the Confederation Front. The Cabal. Everything was so shadowy, who could tell? They didn’t follow the rules, though. From what I’ve heard, destroying a whole colony for a single target was not beyond them.”
“That’s murder,” she barked. “That’s bi-damned extermination.”
“Not to them. To them it was just a job.”
REX cut in, bemoaning, “And now we’re flying around with a target on our backs? Oh, this is so bad, you guys.”
“Can they be stopped?” Tawny asked.
Ben’s feet planted again and he stared down in thought. He finally said, “To kill a snake, you gotta cut off its head.” Addressing their new friend, he asked, “So who’s the head?”
The voice responded flatly, “I will avoid dramatics. Her name is Xantrissa Von’Domina, Eyes of the night, phantom knife and god-killer of the Solar Twin blood accord, and Matron Bitch of the Obsalom Order.”
Ben grimaced. “Avoid dramatics, huh? So, what else is there?”
“Many doctrines describe evil to possess an embodiment. In many instances it appears as a litch of such blood thirst that she…”
“Never mind,” Ben called. He couldn’t take any more color commentary. He turned to Tawny and said, “Look Tawny, these Obsalom—they’re the meanest jackwad, narse-holes in the solar twin system. If the Obsalom Order is real, and if this person is their leader, she’s dangerous, baby. Like—real dangerous.”
The voice said, “My data feed to the Obsalom Order is always clear. I could open a DPM link. You want to hail her?”
They spoke immediately and simultaneously, Ben crying out, “Gods no!” Tawny crying, “Hells, yes!”
Ben gave her a shocked look and said, “Tawny.”
She said insistently, “Benji.”
REX interrupted, “Cap, Boss. I think we’ve got a more immediate problem, if you can believe that.”
Chapter Twelve
Ben switched over, snapped away from their conversation about demons and prophecy. He said, “What is it?”
“A long range proximity scan. It’s scouring local space. Someone’s looking for somebody. I’m afraid it might be us.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Uh, nothing. I’m just afraid it might be us.”
“Hard to say at this distance. Multiple marks, though.”
“Is it these Obsalom people?” Tawny said.
“No, this is a military column,” REX said. “It looks like a battle group. They’re moving into the edge of local space.”
“Military?” Tawny said, shocked. “Which side?”
“Hard to say yet,” REX answered.
Ben swung REX around and headed for the asteroid field saying, “Bring them up.” The space view swirled one-eighty.
The map zipped into view in front of Tawny. She saw them immediately—a series of encroaching indicators moving in from open space.
“Who are they?” Ben asked jetting the ship closer to the asteroid field.
Tawny clicked her tongue, thinking. “If I had to guess by the formation, I’d say they’re Cabal. But what’re they doing way out here?”
Ben pursed his lips. “What do you think?”
She gave him a cross look and murmured, “Looking for us.”
He nodded. “After Menuit-B, we should have expected this.”
“Well, now we know.”
“Mm-hmm,” he said. The asteroid band was upon them breaking the vista of space up into an endless horizon of hard, gray rock.
Tawny studied the proximity map. A tiny point of light appeared with circular ovoids emanating from it like ripples in a pond. Energy sonar. “Another scan,” she said.
“We’ll lose them,” Ben said sinking the ship into the band of cosmic debris. Within moments they were surrounded by slowly spinning asteroids. Some were majestic and huge, dwarfing their vessel in shifting shadows, others smaller and more fragmented. The rock scooted across their viewport like objects caught inside a current. The chitter chatter of pebbles dancing against their hull sounded off like rain as they lowered into the scatterings.
Ben locked the ship into geosynchronous motion with one of the bigger ones, coming about. The asteroid loomed across half the sky. The holomap shuddered, blinking in and out of registry.
“We’re losing our proximity reading,” Tawny said.
“I know,” Ben replied. “Gravimetric shifting will play havoc with our sensors.” He smiled at her, “But it’ll do the same to theirs. As long as we keep them in our six, we’ll know where they’re at. Now, we just drift away. They’ll never see us.” He made one final boost with the starboard jets to give the ship a lazy spin and brought the thrusters all the way down. The more they drifted like a stone, the more they pirouetted like one, the more they’d look like one.
“Like another hunk of rock, huh?” she said.
“Hey…” REX said, feelings hurt.
Tawny gave him a smirk. “I’m going to go check on the kids.”
“That’s great,” REX said, “we’ll be up here avoiding any bumps and scratches, right, Cap?”
Ben didn’t respond, just nodded his head looking out at the surrounding sky.
The Prolium, lead vessel of the Arkin Wing, loomed through the dark, spying the Zii Band at great distance like a thin wisp of speckled gray stretching endlessly across the horizon of space. The vessel was a King Neptune Class Prime Cruiser, one of the Cabal’s flagship makes, designed with a massive slab hull design that split through space at the whim of its eight, rear set inner-warp power plants. Secondary thruster housings lined its midsection fins, all of which lent to a multi-terraced upper deck where the blaster cannons were housed in rows. It was a mile long in space.
The Corvette group flanked it, six to a side with their fast-attack three-sixty degree cannon groups and forward command centers. Accompanying them was the Avian-class battle command vessel, a flat-decked ship with comm scatter and light band detection dishes of every make. It was their eyes and ears enabling the squadron to see clearly for a half AU and even beyond.
Behind and slightly above was the Crusade-class squadron carrier, a sheer monolith with a series of mammoth fighter bays set in rows and yawning at space. It housed several hundred fighters, bombers, quick troop carriers and maintenance vessels all tucked away in rows.
The entire Arkin Wing battle group was visible through the sky roof in Senator Torian’s stateroom. He was quite impressed with the awesome sight of his home front’s war machine, but staring at it endlessly offered very little distraction. He longed for the urban sight of his moon Lana. He was bored. Worse, he was frustrated. Coming to a quick decision, he secured the top buttons on his senator’s long coat and strode from the room.
He took a broad main passage to the central lift and went down to the forward command center perched along the Prolium’s upper amidships decking. He stepped in unannounced, certain to get sharp eyes from Group Commander Havilok and his captain, Terrelis.
Torian stood at the rear command deck. Stairways to the right and left led down to the operations floor. Operators manipulated hovering holo-diagrams glowing blue in the dim air, each with headsets murmuring observation points and command checks. The commander’s position was on the extended walkway that spanned out over the space allowing the leader to gaze below at his top crew. A holographic viewport sat at the command center’s forward point and showed the Zii Band at multiple zoom distances.
Havilok didn’t have to guess who’d entered his command center. He stood perched at the forward end of the extension bridge and turned slowly. He was not surprised.
Torian moved across the raised walkway and met him.
“Senator,” Havilok said flatly. “Not appeased with your stateroom?”
Torian tightened the corners of his lips and said, “What’s the status report?”
Havilok gave him an insulted look. A senator demanding status reports on his bridge. Infuriating. He said, “Patience, Torian.” He turned and faced the forward viewport.
“What of long range scans?” Torian pushed.
Havilok took a forced breath, said, “Long range scans will not penetrate the rubble field.” Lower he murmured, “We are still on approach.”
“As I determined,” Torian said, “this is a waste of time.”
Havilok spun on him, angry. “This is our best and only lead, Senator. And I will not discuss my strategy with you on my command deck.”
“A hypothetical nav computer spits out a coordinate set at the far edge of solar space, and you call it a lead,” Torian scoffed.
Havilok grinned, but was not amused. “This is my command, Senator. And it is my wing. You are a guest here, and only at my invitation.”
Torian feigned patience. “Then, if I may be so bold …”
Havilok said lowly interrupting him, “There have been two disbursement camps destroyed in the last day and a half, universal. Our culprits tend to destroy things—moon cannons and the like. It stands to reason, given their time frame and directional layout, they will be in this area using the Zii Band as harbor.” He suffused a wild grin, trading it for a diplomatic sigh, and said, “Simple. Tactics.” Continuing to speak lowly as not to let anyone in earshot hear their conversation, he said, “Furthermore, given the nature of asteroid fields and their penchant to hide vessels from long range scans, we are preparing to send reconnoissance probes.”
Torian leaned forward and said even lower, “A waste of time.”
Havilok said with a false grin. “Because you put such a price on doing nothing, perhaps you’d like me to adjudicate shipboard penal code seven-seven-one-point-three, subsection D.”
Torian found himself curious, though he knew he was walking into a trap. Nevertheless, he said, “Which is?”
“In the preservation of innership personnel organization and the flow of command, upstarts and insubordinates shall consequentially be
placed in the brig for an indefinite period.”
Torian’s eyes widened oh so subtly.
Havilok whispered, “Simple. Tactics.”
Torian forced a swallow. “That would hardly apply.”
“Not if the wing commander dictates that it does.”
The two men stared each other down for a long moment, both cutting the other with their eyes. Torian receded with a congenial grin and said, “The bridge is yours.”
Again with the condescension.
He turned and strode away.
Havilok collected himself and turned to face his top crew. They operated in their cold, serene way below him. He cast his gaze down at the sensory control platform where the operator looked up at him, awaiting an order. Havilok gave him a nod in affirmation, and the man turned to initiate his next task.
A moment later, a hatch in Prolium’s bow slipped open and a turnstile began ejecting reconnoissance probes into space. Their thrusters glowed, zipping each one off at different angles, all headed toward that far distant Zii Band.
Once fed and satisfied, the orphans began winding down. Tonight’s arrangements would be the same as last night’s. Twelve orphans stuffed into Starboard One, three hanging off the bed, the others huddled together on the gel-squish pallet. With the blankets covering them in the dim light, they looked like a single organism with multiple heads and twice as many arms. Tawny spent a moment staring down at them. Something inside her felt genuinely good for the first time in many years. She was meant to house these kids, something beyond her had called her to them, or perhaps had called them to her, like the voice of a mother bringing her offspring home. It made her take a comforted breath, made her smile.
And then she remembered …
They were being hunted. The warrior couldn’t go away for long. Eventually, it would always have to come back. The smile went away and she turned to leave, but a tiny voice caught her.
“Things are quiet,” it said sweetly.
She turned, scanned the kids. There was a pair of glowing eyes among them, looking up at her.