Born of Sand (Tales of a Dying Star Book 5) (32 page)

It was wrong, all shitting wrong. Hob shouldn't have attacked for another day, when they had time to bring the pilots back. They only had one, and he still mumbled and pleaded, but that would still be a great victory. Another Riverhawk providing air support, worth fifty men on the ground. At the very least he would have kept the Melisao aircraft busy. As things stood, Hob was the only one at Victory Base who would fly.

As if to underscore the thought, the muted sound of aircraft passed somewhere above, followed by the low booms of explosions. A second pass occurred a moment later, without the blasts.
Hob, chased by peacekeepers?

He should have waited. It would all go to waste now, all their planning and preparation.
Hopefully we can win without the extra aircraft.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Mira asked.

"I don't know shit." It was the truth, more or less. If they could get to the ground floor they might be able to escape somewhere in all the chaos. He hoped there would be chaos, since there weren't any guards down in the cells and an obvious battle above.

Unless there weren't any guards because it was all a trap. A trap set by
her
.

His pulse raced at the thought, his hands trembling.

It would have been ridiculous an hour before. He'd seen Kari kill dozens of men with a ruthlessness and fervor beyond sanity. Even the occasional Melisao. And apparently it had all been a mask, designed to fool them all.
Designed to fool me
. And fool him it had.

She was a shitting
shade
the whole shitting time.

He pushed the thoughts aside, because if he focused on them too long he would surely falter. All they could do was travel to the surface and hope for the best.
She was probably the one to lock the tunnel, too, forcing us this way.

No. Not now. Later. Three deep breaths and the calm returned, and he gripped it like a vice.

He eyed their prisoner again. He was due for execution in a few days, so his loyalty to the other Melisao couldn't have been high, but his sanity... he continued mumbling and looking around the lift car with wild eyes, as if not believing what he saw. It might have been better to just leave him behind, to not take the risk at all.

And he might be crucial, no matter how lost his mind. If fighting in the city drew into a prolonged battle, then getting back to Victory Base and throwing another Riverhawk in the sky was worth the chance. Even if he did nothing but fly erratically and distract the peacekeepers it would be worth his life.

Mira began weeping, silent at first but devolving into rapid wheezing. When Farrow met her eyes she said, "Did she... did I..."

"No," he said. "Not now."

"But I killed--"

"
Later.
" He put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing with just enough force to jolt some sense into her. "Focus. A time for cunning now, a time for tears later."

"Blockade," she said. "That's what Hyken claimed he enforced, shooting down freighters."

Hyken cowered at hearing his name.

Farrow sighed. "There will be a time to discuss that later as well."
And a time to repent for the lies I've told.

She nodded. Moisture continued welling in her eyes nonetheless.

The lift car made a
banging
noise and rocked to a stop. The car doors began opening, and a split second later the outer doors as well. Farrow readied his rifle. "Follow my lead. Our goal is to escape, not attack, so no stray shots if we can help it."

A wide room opened before them, with a glass ceiling a hundred feet overhead. Half the panes on the wall and roof had shattered, making the room look like a crystal minefield. Farrow knew it as the palace entrance hall, though he'd only ever seen it from the outside.

It was also empty.

Eighty feet away, outside the massive entrance doors, two roof-mounted laser turrets raked at the morning sky from the guard station.
Hob must still be alive
, he thought. Distant explosions sounded, though he couldn't make out which direction.
They'll be attacking from the desert, to the north and to the south
. If they stuck with the coordination of the plan, if not the timing.

"This way," Farrow said, leading them away from the entrance, along the side of the room, hugging an interior wall made of shiny metal and decorated with oil paintings. Paintings displaying scenes of the Melisao victory over the Praetari monarchy years ago. He resisted the urge to rip them down, fire a salvo across the canvas and watch the paint surface burn and sizzle away.
Soon enough, if we can return in time.

They reached the side of the room, where a window on the outer wall had blown open. He used his rifle to clear away the extra shards before stepping up and over. The others followed a few steps behind, huddling to the ground next to him.

They were in a side street adjacent to the main plaza, from where the guard turrets continued shooting at the twilight sky. He could hear the aircraft more clearly then, but kept his eyes on the ground. An alley, twenty feet away. They'd need to run through the open to reach it. He made eye contact with all the others to ensure they knew the plan, then grabbed the crazy prisoner--Hyken--and sprinted across the rough street.

It was only a few seconds but felt like forever, legs heavy and steps hard. He fell into the dark alley with Hyken and leaned back to watch Mira stumble through.

"Farrow," Mira said. "Did you see..."

He looked up the alley. The mouth opened to another street one block farther, and he took off at a jog. He wasn't sure which way they were going but they'd need to keep up the pace in case they'd been seen. They were out of the palace, but he didn't feel anywhere close to safe just yet.

The next street looked similar to the last, twenty feet of open exposure before another side street. "
Farrow
," Mira said, more insistent. "Did you see it?"

Something in her voice made him hesitate. "See what?"

"Look up. It's... in the sky. It's huge."

Betraying his every instinct, Farrow leaned out of the alley until the grey sky came into view. He could hear the aircraft somewhere to the left, and to the right he didn't think he could see...

His mouth slowly dropped open.
What the shit.

The grey sky wasn't sky. It was the grey exterior of an enormous spaceship, long and spear-shaped, descending through the clouds. The dozens of peacekeeper bunkers among the city were shooting at
it
, not some ship piloted by Hob. The front end glowed orange--he'd thought it was the sun, before--and as it cooled details came into view. Plating and external antenna. Windows, and protrusions with the unambitious and ugly purpose of defense, bristling with turrets and larger ordnance.

And the name, painted in massive letters across the side:

O L I T A U

A ship Akonai had mentioned in joking. A ship to escort the Melisao settlers to another star.

For a few long moments Farrow didn't believe it.
The Melisao must have brought it here to fight us
, he thought. Until the
Olitau
spawned smaller craft of all kinds--Riverhawks and Goshawks and long Seahawk bombers--that began attacking the peacekeeper defenses among the city.
They're not Melisao
, Farrow realized. There was only one group to whom they could belong.

The aircraft spun and dove, firing thick lasers and dropping bombs upon the peacekeepers. One by one the spraying green turrets raking the sky drew silent, including those at the palace. Then all that remained were the aircraft patrolling above, circling menacingly between the ground and the artificial grey ceiling that now sprawled in all directions.

Farrow began walking back in the direction of the palace, toward the plaza by the front entrance. He was too stunned to feel afraid, his fingers and toes numb. Mira called out to him, but he knew that's where they needed to go.

And he was right. From the
Olitau
came a transport craft, blocky and boring. Escorted in a box by four Riverhawks, though no city resistance remained. It landed it the open plaza just as Farrow reached the outskirts. Soldiers were already there, and they ran at Farrow screaming, gesturing with their rifles. Farrow raised his hands and the others emulated, and allowed the soldiers to disarm them.

In the distance, the transport opened and a single man stepped out, tall and slender. Farrow had the distinct impression he was looking in their direction. The soldiers he'd surrendered to cocked their heads, listening to some device in their ears. They led Farrow toward the transport and the man.

Akonai stood patiently with his arms behind his back as the soldiers guided Farrow forward. The leader of the
Children
wore a wide smile on his face. "You are here, and not hiding in the sand?"

Farrow hated him for his mocking tone. "'Rise up and take back your own planet.' That is what you told me the last time we met."

"I did."

"We were making plans to that effect. We were close."

Akonai's smile somehow widened. "Not close enough."

"I thought Melis was your primary focus."

Now Akonai laughed. "It was."

"And yet you are here. Too cowardly to fight the Empire where they exist in strength?"

Akonai considered him for a long moment. "Word really does travel poorly to this awful planet. There is no Empire. The Emperor is dead. Melis has fallen, taken by Spider and my son Onero. The peacekeepers here were a shell group, cut off from the rest and continuing the war for a few weeks because they had no other choice. And they folded at the slightest hint of force."

He nodded at the palace. "You probably could have danced your way inside and thrown down the Governor with a handful of men, had you the courage."

If Farrow had so much as a knife in that moment he would have gutted the man from groin to gullet. "Fuck your courage. Fuck your
Children
. You could have sent us word but you didn't. We were taking the shitting planet for ourselves
tomorrow
and you stole that from us!"

One of the guards stepped up and struck him in the belly with the butt of his rifle. Farrow doubled over. "Watch your tongue in front of His Luminance."

Mira finally found her voice. "His what?"

Akonai stepped forward until he was right in front of them. "Why, now that this planet has fallen I am the King of this star system. Melis, Praetar, the ice moons of Ouranos... they are all within my domain. Kneel before me, beg my forgiveness, and perhaps I won't bomb your Freemen where they cower beneath the sand."

The others looked to Farrow, still clutching his stomach. When he could, he stood up straight with what energy he had left.

"Kneel," Akonai growled, his smile gone.

Farrow looked around. At the two rows of guards on either side, boxing them in. At the skyline bordering the palace plaza, the city he'd worked so hard to capture, was so close to taking back before having it ripped away from him. At the triangular clusters of Riverhawks flying in formation above the city, and at the massive not-a-sky spacecraft just beyond. He looked at his prisoner already on his knees pleading.

And he looked at Mira, the woman who had been prepared to die in the desert. The woman he had rescued, who was looking to him for guidance, with weariness and hurt and desperation back in her eyes. And in front of it all determination, her jaw clenched, prepared to follow in whatever Farrow decided to do.

He met Akonai's wrathful gaze, the man's hands balled into fists at his side. In an instant he would have them killed. Akonai opened his mouth to speak the word.

Farrow knelt.

About the Author

David Kristoph lives in Virginia with his wonderful wife and two not-quite German Shepherds. He's a fantastic reader, great videogamer, good chess player, average cyclist, and mediocre runner. He's also a member of the Planetary Society, a patron of StarTalk Radio, an amateur astronomer, and general space enthusiast.