Omega Force 5: Return of the Archon (9 page)

“We’re coming up on Alpha LZ,” Kage reported after another few hours of flight.

“Copy,” Jason said, throttling back power and angling the nose up a bit to bleed off some speed. He reached over and cycled the landing gear, looking over the landing site on his sensor display. Everything looked clear so he brought power all the way back and let the
Phoenix
settle into a hover thirty meters over the clearing. “Descending, stand by for touchdown.”

He eased the power back on the grav-drive until he felt the landing gear impact the ground with a gentle bump. There were a few groans and pops from the
Phoenix
as she settled all her weight on the three landing gear struts until Jason’s indicators greened up and told him they were completely down. He leveled the ship and began securing the primary flight systems as everyone else unbuckled their restraints and walked around the bridge, stretching legs and backs that had tensed up during the low-level flight through the mountains.

They were fifty kilometers away from the nearest legion settlement and had landed in a treeless basin that would conceal the gunship from any casual passersby. Jason kept the reactor power up and the drives in standby; while this made the
Phoenix
easier to detect, it also meant if they needed to leave in a hurry she’d be ready.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “How far to our pickup?”

“We have a ten kilometer walk until we reach the rendezvous point,” Connimon said. “We’ll be picked up by soldiers from the 7
^th
Legion, the same unit Mazer and Morakar serve in.”

“Very good,” Jason said. “Let’s get on the move.”

Had Jason not been worried about landing on a potentially hostile planet and leaving his ship sitting in an unattended clearing, the walk through the Restaria wilderness would have been quite pleasant. The trees towered over their heads a couple hundred feet above them, blotting out the midday sun. The flora under their feet crawled along the forest floor, not getting enough light to become overly large, and a soft breeze whispered through the enormous trunks. For a moment he was transported back to Earth, walking through the sequoias and generally enjoying a simple existence.

“Are we heading back to the 7
^th
Legion’s base?” Crusher asked as he walked along beside Jason.

“No,” Mazer said hesitantly. “The base may not be safe. Galvetor has informants and spies everywhere. We’ll be going to a safe house in Ker.”

“What’s Ker?” Jason asked quietly.

“The third largest settlement on Restaria,” Crusher said. “It is a place not many outside the warrior class care to venture.”

“Why is that?” Kage asked from behind them.

“It is a city that exists in the overlap of four different legion territories,” Crusher said. “The 7
^th
, 11
^th
, 21
^st
, and the 4
^th
all butt up against the city limits. Two of these legions aren’t exactly known for their tolerance of outsiders, especially
normal
geltens.”

“So … I guess the next obvious question would be if they don’t like outsiders of their own species, what are they going to do with five aliens?” Twingo asked.

“We will need to take precautions,” Crusher admitted.

“That doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence,” Jason muttered as they trudged off through the woods after Connimon and her warrior escort. The forest suddenly seemed a lot less pleasant to him than it had a moment ago. There was a legitimate worry; he still had no idea why they were even there and now they were marching right into a possibly dangerous situation depending on how intolerant the legionnaires actually were.

His next thought was that the relationship between the warrior class and Galvetor was a lot more complicated than he’d been led to believe. Mazer’s talk of outsiders and spies, both used in a derogatory sense, made Jason think the rift between the cultures may be wider and the resentments deeper than Crusher or Connimon wanted to admit. This also led him to ponder what Crusher meant by legion territories. He had assumed some sort of centralized leadership, but now he had the impression that the legions were loosely connected outfits that competed with each other and didn’t necessarily cooperate or agree. He voiced this to Crusher as they walked through the forest.

“That’s what I meant when I said that Archon wasn’t exactly a ceremonial position,” Crusher answered with a smile. “I was the face of the warrior class on Galvetor and wasn’t affiliated with any particular legion, but had influence over all.”

“Influence? Not actual command authority?” Jason asked.

“No. Out of respect and tradition they followed my lead, but they were never required to do so by threat of punishment,” Crusher said. “We are a confusing group at times. While fiercely loyal to our commanders, even to the death, we resent any outside pressure and rebel with little provocation.”

“I’m beginning to see what may have precipitated the decision to … relocate you to Restaria,” Jason said carefully.

“While that’s true, be careful about voicing that opinion here in the open,” Crusher warned. “We’ve carefully constructed the deception to ourselves that moving here was our choice. Words like relocate, exile, or banish aren’t especially popular here.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Jason said. “While we’re walking, perhaps you could brief the others on any other social faux pas.”

“Did you have anyone in particular in mind?”

“The usual suspects,” Jason said wearily.

“Right,” Crusher agreed before raising his voice,” Twingo, Kage … I need to talk to you two for a moment.”

“What for?” The insolent response from Kage surprised nobody.

As the airtruck whisked along, its repulsors making the transition from rough dirt path to paved street seamless, Jason craned his neck to see past the two huge warriors in the front seat to get his first view of Ker. The airtruck was an open-air affair that had two benches lining the cargo bed, not unlike the M939 five-ton truck that he’d been around during his time with the Air Force. If the M939 hovered a meter off the ground and had a forcefield to protect the occupants from the wind and weather, that is.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting. A rough, Old Western-style town, perhaps, or maybe even a battle-scarred hovel. But Ker didn’t fit any preconceived notion he’d formed of what a settlement of a warrior culture would be like. It was stunning in its artistic beauty. The only comparison he could draw to an Earth city would be possibly Prague, but Ker had no evidence of a violent past scarring its streets and buildings. Even the size surprised him as he’d expected more of an outpost than a legitimate city as he was seeing now.

“Outsiders aren’t entirely unheard of, but try not to draw undue attention to yourselves as we drive through the city. It’s not likely you’d be stopped or harassed, but let’s not risk it,” Morakar said as the driver slowed the airtruck down and turned onto one of the perimeter roads to avoid driving through the city center. The air of Restaria was crisp and fresh, even this close to Ker, and the weather was beautiful. Despite the fact that they were in a mildly dangerous situation given the gelten warriors’ predilection towards open hostility towards outsiders, and that he had no idea what they were actually doing on Restaria, Jason couldn’t help but enjoy the drive through open streets of the city outskirts.

While he was busy gawking at the monolithic, gothic construction of the city, he began to take notice of the geltens themselves. Again, he had to admit, with no small amount of shame, that he had been too quick to judge his friend’s culture and people. There were no cage matches to the death in town squares, no bands of swaggering warriors in full combat regalia, and no brutish behavior of any sort that he could see. They were colorfully dressed in a wide array of styles, albeit most of them sleeveless, and were clumped together in small groups laughing, eating, enjoying street performances, and generally taking in the day. There was an upbeat vibrancy to the city so that it seemed to hum with positivity.

“Not what you were expecting, was it?” Crusher said with a smug smile.

“Well … I, er,” Jason floundered. Crusher let him go a moment longer before holding his hand up, laughing softly.

“This is our sanctuary,” he explained. “We can come here and remember that despite our differences we’re still geltens and have the same appreciation for art, music, and community as our cousins on Galvetor.” He looked around, breathing in deeply. “Make no mistake, though,” he continued. “Any one of these legionnaires is capable of horrific violence in the blink of an eye if provoked. This is also considered neutral ground and fighting between legions is not only rare, but punishable.”

“What legion are you from?” Twingo asked.

“I was selected to be raised as an Archon in early childhood, so I don’t really identify with any one of them, but with all of them,” Crusher said. “But when I was brought here from Galvetor, I was selected by the 7
^th
to be trained, so I always have an affinity for that unit.”

“Which legion are you and Morakar from?” Kage asked Mazer.

“The 7
^th
,” he said proudly. “We have carried the honor of Lord Felex hailing from our unit, as well as—” He trailed off and looked quickly at Crusher, and then away.

“You can say it, Mazer,” Crusher said. “You also bear the shame of my exile.”

“I would not insult you, Lord Felex,” the other warrior said, turning back to him. “But these have been hard times for the 7
^th
, and for Restaria as a whole. Galvetor blusters and makes threats against us, and the imprisonment of Fordix was an affront to us all.”

“It’s what we’re here to sort out,” Crusher assured him. Jason wasn’t so sure.

“What would happen if they caught you here?” Jason asked.

“It would not be good,” Crusher admitted. “Galvetor would issue a warning, and then likely come here to enforce their ruling. After that—” He splayed his hands to indicate he wasn’t sure what the final outcome would be.

“After that, we go to war,” Morakar said darkly. “No more ground will be given to the bureaucrats and politicians.” Crusher remained silent, but looked meaningfully at Jason. It seemed Connimon had been accurate about that part at least: the relationship between the two worlds was dangerously strained.

The airtruck pulled off the small feeder street it had been traveling on and down an alley between two large buildings that looked to be constructed of stone blocks the size of delivery vans. They slid to a stop near what appeared to be a loading dock and sat silently while the driver pulled out a com unit and began talking. It was some minutes later when the driver turned to Connimon. “You may go in now.”

“If you’ll all follow me,” she said, climbing out of the back of the airtruck. They all climbed out after her and walked, single file, towards a narrow staircase near the edge of the loading dock that led down into the sublevels. There were no signs or markers near the stairs, and they would likely be overlooked by a casual observer. Following Connimon down into the depths beneath Ker, Jason had a momentary pang of anxiety. If she was leading them into a trap, there would be no room to maneuver or fight. He quickly dismissed his worries; if she planned to have them attacked, it could have happened at any time leading up to the airtruck dropping them off, and in a much more discreet location than the third largest city on the planet.

When they reached the bottom of the staircase, there was a door to the left of the landing that was already standing wide open and a dim light spilling out from within. Connimon passed through the doorway without hesitation, as did Mazer and Morakar and Crusher behind them. Jason looked over his shoulder to ensure Lucky was close behind him before walking in himself.

Beyond the door was simply a long corridor that sloped down and to the right, leading them even deeper beneath Restaria’s surface until they passed through a large archway and into what looked like a sparsely appointed reception area … and it was occupied. No fewer than twenty Galvetic warriors were milling around when the group walked in, hushing all conversation as they did so. All eyes were on Crusher as he walked confidently to the middle of the room and looked around. All the warriors were wearing a wide, red sash from right shoulder to left hip that Jason guessed was some sort of identifier. Not exactly subtle.

“This way, Lord Felex,” a booming voice said from a doorway near the rear of the room. Without a word, everyone turned and went towards the door. “Only members of the order are permitted,” the voice boomed again as a large Galvetic arm loomed from the crowd, intent on grabbing Jason’s shoulder. It was met with a lightning fast armored hand that latched onto it at the wrist. The warrior who owned the arm traced his gaze along the metallic one until he was staring into the unblinking eyes of a pissed-off battlesynth.

“You will refrain from touching the captain,” Lucky said simply. The warrior wrenched his arm free and turned to face Lucky, three more warriors coming to stand behind him, drawing weapons as they did. Jason was still looking at the warrior who’d reached for him when he heard a
pop/whine
from behind him; he could see the red glow of Lucky’s eyes reflected in the eyes of the warriors facing him as the battlesynth switched to full combat mode. In such cramped quarters this was going to be messy.

“Enough!” Crusher thundered. “Lucky, stand down.” What happened next surprised all of Omega Force, but especially Jason.

“I do not take orders from you, Crusher,” Lucky said harshly, even angrily, the smell of ozone permeating the air as the power coursed through his weapon systems. “I will stand down only when I have assurances the captain is safe and not before.”

“Oh, shit,” Jason heard Twingo mutter from the back of the room. “This is going to be a bloodbath.” Jason risked looking around the room and saw that Morakar and Mazer were nowhere to be found, and Connimon was watching the spectacle with an alarming look of detached disinterest. All of this happened in the blink of an eye and Jason knew if someone didn’t defuse the situation it was going to escalate quickly. With so many weapons in such a cramped space, he had no illusions about surviving the engagement. Crusher, having gotten over his shock at Lucky’s rebuke, also seemed to grasp the danger.