EVE®: Templar One (32 page)

“Now you’re just being intrusive,” Arian said.
“We board in thirty minutes.”

The plan was to be in position before Heth’s security teams arrived in advance to sweep the area surrounding the villa.
Most of the gear they were hauling was for that explicit purpose: cloaking field generators, thermal suppressors in the suits and helmets they wore, and lots of ECM gear to deal with drone technology.

“Don’t go,” Mordu said.
“Please.”

Assuming they weren’t detected, they would evaluate two options.
The first was to get in close enough for a clear line of fire.
Heth was the primary target, but any of his cabinet lieutenants were considered high-value targets of opportunity.
The weapons they were bringing for the task—three Wiyrkomi AWH-44 Gauss rifles, massive things that needed to be assembled at the site—had the range, power, and silence to get the job done without betraying their position.
The targets would need to be in the open, and the men were trained to lie and wait in the jungle for as long as it took for the opportunity to present itself.

And if it didn’t, the second option was to detonate the tactical nuke.

Shaking his head, Arian stepped past his father.

“You’re just jealous you’re not pulling the trigger yourself,” he said.

“I could order you to stay,” Mordu said.
“You know that, right?”

His son paused.

“You could,” he said.
“But you won’t.”

“Arian, you don’t have to do this,” Mordu pleaded.

“I don’t?”
he asked, turning around.
“Six months of planning, and you tell me this now?”

Mordu looked him straight in the eye.

“I need to know that you’re doing it for the right reasons,” he said.
“Are you?”

A scowl formed on Arian’s brow.

“You should be asking if there’s a good reason not to go,” he answered.
“There isn’t.”

Mordu smiled wearily at his son.

“Are you doing this for the Legion?”
he asked, “or for yourself?”

Arian’s scowl deepened.

“You know the answer to that,” he said.

“I used to think so,” Mordu said.
“But I’ve been wrong before.”

“Don’t worry,
Pop,
” Arian growled through clenched teeth.
“If this doesn’t work, you’ve got eternity to make as many sons as it takes to get this right.”

The father nodded, as if Arian had told him what he suspected all along.

“I see,” he said.
“Then good luck, son.”

“Thanks,” Arian said, turning his back to him.

Mordu reached out one last time.

“I remember why I came down here,” he said.

Arian kept walking.

“It was to tell you how proud I am of you,” Mordu said, certain this was the last time he would ever see him alive.

PURE BLIND REGION—S4GH-I CONSTELLATION

MLW
MORSE

EN ROUTE TO MORDU’S LEGION HQ STATION

General Kintreb felt something he’d never known before.

For the first time, the inner, perpetual rage that defined him was diminished.
He was sublimely aware of something greater than his life’s toils, which suddenly felt so trivial.
Curiously, his iron will was demanding that he stay within the comparative bliss of his dreams instead of fight to leave them.
Deep down, he acknowledged a somber admission of defeat—not by battle, but by life itself.

After all this bitter, hateful time, enough was enough.

“Hello again, Vladimir,” Mordu said.
“You look like shit.”

The old General grimaced at the sound of his voice.
An image of the grand mercenary hovered overhead.
Vlad was insulted that he didn’t have the respect to address him in person.

Enough,
he reminded himself.
Anger is pointless.

“I have to ask a favor,” Mordu said.
“I need you to
want
to live.
We can only do so much to keep you alive.”

“Don’t … bother,” Vlad whispered.
“Core Freedom…?”

“The Amarr have taken it,” Mordu said.
“I’m sorry.”

“… you should have left me there,” Vlad said.
“Did anyone else…”

“The physician, Gable,” Mordu said.
“No one else.”

“Bishop?”
Vlad asked.

“KIA,” Mordu said.

Farewell, old friend,
Vlad thought, remembering his reliable commander fondly.
I will see you again soon.

He could feel the machines keeping him alive, which only bolstered his resolve to defeat their efforts.
But before passing into the afterlife, there was one final truth to be said.

“We’re going to search for those who escaped,” Mordu said.
“We might be able to get some of them out.”

Vlad took a deep, labored breath.

“The Republic never believed Core Freedom was worth saving,” he struggled to say.

Mordu blinked.

“But then why hire us?”

“They didn’t,” Vlad said.
“I did.
With my own money, and … the original investors’ of Core Freedom.”

“You?”
Mordu asked.

“A lifetime of soldiering … Every credit … is now yours,” said Vlad.

“Shakor must have known what you were doing—” Mordu started.

“They …
owed
me.
For sacrifices on their behalf.
So they allowed it.”

“Allowed, or knew you were too stubborn to let it go?”

Vlad took a deep, labored breath.

“The Elders have a vision for Minmatar that doesn’t include New Eden,” he said.
“This cluster is dead to them.”

“Vladimir,” Mordu said sternly, “you were ordered to abandon Core Freedom, and you stayed anyway?”

“New Eden is my home,” Vlad whispered.
“Pike’s Landing is a Minmatar world.
Makes it worth fighting for…”

“You kept an entire battalion of soldiers on that place—”

“I won’t yield one inch to those bastards, Mordu.
Not one.”

“—and how many
thousands
of civilians against their will?”

“They’re going to burn them,” Vlad warned.
“Burn them all to ash.”

“Burn who?”
Mordu asked.
“The civilians?
Who’s going to burn them?”

“Shakor.
The Republic Fleet.
They’ll never let the empire have Core Freedom.”

The machines keeping him alive screamed frantically, trying to stop the inevitable, but his will was too strong.

General Vlad Kintreb’s heart stopped beating.

Jonas, who was listening to the conversation from the medical bay, took his cue from Mordu and turned off the machines attempting to revive him.

Both men stared at the corpse for a few moments.

“Should we tell the Republic?”
Jonas asked.

“No,” Mordu said.
“Do you think it’s worth returning to Pike’s Landing?”

“Not for the Valklears, no,” Jonas said quietly.
“But there is another reason to go back that you need to hear.”

THE FORGE REGION—ETSALA CONSTELLATION

THE VASALA SYSTEM—PLANET V, MOON 15

ISHUKONE CORPORATE FACTORY—TEMPORARY HQ

SOVEREIGNTY OF THE CALDARI STATE

Lorin Reppola stormed into the flat without warning, purposely making her way across the living space.

“Pack your things,” she snapped.
“Or have the hired help do it for you.
Just take the irreplaceable items.”

“Where are we going?”
Amile asked.

“Someplace far away from here,” her mother answered.

Amile looked at the beefy Civire bodyguards standing in the open doorway.
They kept their stone-faced expressions and remained separated by a small luggage carrier.

“We’re leaving home for good?”
she asked.
“You’re serious?”

“More than ever,” Lorin said, grabbing a statue that Amile knew she paid a small fortune for.
“I should have done this a long time ago.”

“Did you talk this over with Dad?”
Amile asked, folding her arms.

“You know this isn’t working,” Lorin said, marching straight past the projection of family portraits above the credenza.
She thrust the statue into one of the bodyguards’ hands, who hurriedly stowed it into the luggage carrier.
“Please don’t fight me on this.
Just gather your things, and let’s get moving.”

“You made all the security arrangements?”
Amile demanded.
“The Watch knows the itinerary?
Or is this as selfishly irresponsible as I think it is?”

“Yes and yes, which is why we need to hurry,” Lorin said, snatching another ancient figurine from its pedestal.
“Responsibility works both ways in a marriage and I’ve lost my patience waiting for your father to reciprocate.”

“So then where are we going?”

“We are eventually going to the Federation,” Lorin said.
“We have friends there who will take us in.”

“We can’t do that,” Amile said.
“Not without a presidential pardon—”

“It’s done already,” her mother said.
“They’re more than happy to accommodate us.”

“You can’t do this!”
Amile protested.

“Watch me,” Lorin said.

“Dad promised to try one more time to work things out with you,” Amile protested.
“You owe him at least that much!”

With a startling crash, Amile slammed the priceless figurine onto the floor.
It broke into dozens of pieces, scattering across the floor like the fléchettes of a grenade.

“I don’t owe him anything!”
Lorin shouted.
“I am so
sick
of being told what I owe.
What about what’s owed to
me
?
Why doesn’t anyone ever ask that?”

She took a few breaths and then covered her face.

The security guards were noticeably uncomfortable.

“Your father is a great man,” Lorin said through puffy eyes.
“He really is.
But not for us.
Right now, I need to do what’s best for us.
Not Ishukone.
Us.
”

Amile stared at her mother, fighting back some tears of her own.

“I can’t blame you,” she said calmly.
“I really can’t.
But tell me truthfully: Does the Watch know what you’ve planned?”

“Yes,” Lorin said.
“The Watch knows.”

“But does Rali know?”

Lorin wiped away tears.

“With all his tech he can know anything he wants,” she said.

“He doesn’t then,” Amile said.
“We’d have heard from Dad by now.”

“I’m sorry for this,” Lorin said.
“I’m just so …
tired
of being afraid.
I want us to reconnect.
You’re the only joy in my life, and for once I’d like to enjoy that without the stress of trying to make a marriage work.”

“If we do this,” Amile said, “will you promise to give Dad one more try?”

“Is this the last time you’ll ask?”
Lorin asked.

“If the effort is sincere, yes,” Amile said.
“Dad promised the same.”

“Fine,” Lorin said.
“Just please … come with me.”

Amile stared at her mother, certain that this was a bad decision.

“Alright,” she said.
“What’d you have in mind?”

“Echelon Entertainment owns property in Lonetrek,” Lorin said.
“There’s a secluded resort there I’m quite fond of—shorefront facilities, just gorgeous.
I planned to wait there until the Federation made final arrangements for us.
In any case, some rest and relaxation might be exactly what we need.”

“What’s the name of the world?”

“Myoklar.”

GEMINATE REGION—F-ZNNG CONSTELLATION