[05] Elite: Reclamation (49 page)

‘Not possible …’

The missiles turned, shrieking in towards the stricken
Retribution.

‘Die you sadistic bitch …’

No shields, no defences, no hope.

Impact. Flame. The rushing sound of escaping air. Blackness. Void.

The explosion was dramatic, a ball of fire hundreds of metres in diameter flared brightly in the darkness above the moon of Chione. It was visible from the surface of the moon, a bright spark of fire in the twilight sky.

A moment later it guttered, bereft of sustaining oxygen, revealing the ripped and tattered debris that had, a moment before, been the Anaconda-class vessel
Retribution
. A vessel no more, it was nothing but a tumbling menagerie of whirling, twisting, sparking blackened wreckage slowly dispersing through space.

Tenim and Jenu saw the flash, but the detail was invisible at their range. The Tactical display was flickering, confused by the myriad of contacts in the wake of the explosion.

‘And that my dear, is how you wrap up the situation in one fell swoop,’ Tenim said smugly.

Jenu nodded, still looking at the displays, trying to make sense of them.

Tenim turned, signalling to the captain.

‘Get me the Imperial ambassador, I believe it’s time to open final negotiations for this wretched backwater of a system ...’

***

Hassan clambered up out of his harness, clamping his mag-boots to the floor of the pod. Luko had scooped them aboard and the pod was secured in the Cobra’s expansive cargo bay, locked in place between the familiar cargo canisters. He turned to Kahina, who was struggling up beside him.

 ‘Hassan! I ... are you ok? Is …’

‘I’m fine …’

She pulled him into an embrace and he felt a warm kiss upon his cheek.

‘You saved me.’

‘Only just,’ he managed to reply, feeling his face flush. ‘Looks like I had some help.’ He felt her floating away and pulled her back down. ‘Wooah, there. Grab some boots before …’

Footsteps sounded from behind them, clicking on the Cobra’s amidships companion way.

Kahina released Hassan and turned herself around, seeing Luko standing at the top of the ramp.

‘Signorina …’

She stared at him for a long moment, seeing worry, disgrace and uncertainty etched on his face. Kahina looked away, grabbing herself a pair of mag-boots and clipping them on to her feet. Standing up she smoothed down her dress and then stepped out of the pod, facing him.

‘So you came back then?’ she called out, her voice sharp.

Luko grimaced. ‘You make my life molto difficult, signorina. Guilt and shame, this I do not need.’

Kahina walked towards Luko. He stepped towards her. Hassan watched as they eyed each other for a long moment.

‘You are my friend,’ Luko said, sombrely. ‘I could not abandon you at your time of need.’

Kahina paused and then hugged him close.

‘Luko …’

His arms went gently around her, slowly tightening into an embrace.

‘Come. That ship is destroyed, we should get back to your moon.’

Kahina nodded. ‘I need to send a message first, quickly!’

***

The holofac system lit up within moments. The Imperial ambassador appeared to be standing just across from Tenim.

‘Commissioner,’ Ambassador Cuthrick announced with the customary incline of his head. ‘I trust you weren’t unduly inconvenienced by our little altercation earlier?’

‘Not in the slightest,’ Tenim replied, ‘an interesting exercise, I must complement your military staff for the efficacy of their training and deployment.’

‘I’ll be sure to pass along your compliments,’ Cuthrick said. ‘Your own staff conducted themselves with masterful aplomb. How might I aid you at this time?’

Tenim stretched to his full height. ‘You have my commiserations on the unfortunate death of your Imperial heir. It appears she was aboard that pirate vessel, a most unfortunate outcome. Our condolences to the Empire. A tragic loss.’

Cuthrick bowed. ‘Tragic indeed.’

Jenu saw a read-out flicker on the scanners. She frowned, seeing the uncertain outline of a ship in the debris field.

‘Uh, Tenim …’

Tenim glared at her angrily before responding to the holofac image of the ambassador.

‘Of course, with her demise and the downfall of the rebellion, the moon now lies without jurisdiction. In light of its previously established status as an Imperial system we would be happy to rescind our declaration of martial law …’

‘I’m gratified to hear that, Commissioner.’

‘… upon receipt of certain assurances and commitments.’

‘And what commitments are you seeking, pray tell?’ Cuthrick asked innocently.

‘Why assurances over the well-being of the populace, naturally,’ Tenim replied with an exaggerated show of concern. ‘After the agonies of destruction wrought over the last few weeks, surely they deserve a time of peace?’

‘I couldn’t agree more, Commissioner.’

Jenu watched as the debris field on the scanners continued to disperse. There was another signal present. A ship remained, turning and thrusting back towards the moon.

‘Tenim ...’

‘Not now,’ Tenim whispered impatiently out of the corner of his mouth before smiling back at Cuthrick.

‘That is good to hear,’ he said, responding to the ambassador. ‘A viable economy and a stable political outlook would do much to promote peace and prosperity.’

‘A wise course of action. I concur completely.’

‘We’d be prepared to do our piece in securing a lasting harmony,’ Tenim said. ‘Our trade boards and guilds will keep pirates and outlaws at bay across the various shipping lanes, establish routes and stabilise the market.’

‘Most impressive. And what would you ask for such unprompted generosity?’

‘A mere consideration,’ Tenim answered smoothly. ‘Some advantageous trade terms regarding exports of certain commodities. We can discuss the tedious details at our leisure.’

Cuthrick raised his head a little and then nodded.

‘It’s a very generous offer,’ he began, ‘but alas, I’m forced to decline.’

Tenim was taken aback. ‘Decline?’

Cuthrick smiled. ‘Indeed. I’m afraid I have been given a directive which is, shall we say, rather at odds with your wishes.’

‘A directive from whom?’

‘A moment please.’

Cuthrick made a show of reaching for a communique nearby. Something had been printed out for him. He picked it up and studied it for a moment and then looked towards Tenim.

‘Please accept my apologies in advance. The text is, whilst direct and unambiguous, somewhat uncouth and vulgar.’

Tenim looked around at Jenu, who pointed to the scanner read-outs.

‘A ship fleeing the scene. The Imperial girl.’

Tenim’s face clouded with anger. ‘What? She can’t be …’

Cuthrick cleared his throat. Tenim looked at him.

‘We received this from one Kahina Tijani Loren, acting Senator of Chione. The message reads … Federation dogs ... I imagine that means you and your much esteemed colleagues.’ Cuthrick looked pained. ‘I do apologise for the tone, it’s rather undiplomatic. The youth of today you understand …’

Tenim glowered, unable to respond. Cuthrick continued.

‘Your deplorable attempt on my life has failed. I survive and claim this system as my own. Leave immediately or I will … oh dear, I really do regret the timbre of this message, so impolite … ensure no Federation scum escape alive.’

Cuthrick looked up and carefully folded the paper away, placing it within his robes. His wane smile was firmly in place.

‘I do suggest you comply,’ Cuthrick said. ‘Senators can be so very determined.’

‘You would let this young upstart determine your policy …’ Tenim spluttered.

Cuthrick smiled. ‘It would be unfortunate if we had to reveal that a Federation official sanctioned a murder attempt on an Imperial Senator. The political damage might be irreversible.’

‘I …’

 ‘Missiles, Commissioner?’ Cuthrick clicked his tongue. ‘Rather gauche, don’t you think?’

‘You wouldn’t …’

‘Not if you and your fleet depart this Imperial system immediately.’ Cuthrick’s voice had just the faintest of hard edges.

Tenim’s fists clenched. He licked his lips and took a deep breath, letting it out with a long sigh.

He forced a smile.

‘Until next time, Ambassador.’

Cuthrick inclined his head.

‘A pleasure as always, Commissioner.’

Chapter Sixteen

Luko landed the
Bella Principessa
amidst the gardens of the Imperial Palace. There was little left of them. The lawns were burnt and churned, with some significant craters where errant weapons had discharged. Trees were smouldering stumps, the ornate fountains and statues that had marked a gravelled path from the cliffs to the palace entrance were nothing more than scattered rubble.

Kahina walked down the Cobra’s cargo bay ramp, surveying the wreckage, flanked by Hassan and Luko. Kahina could see Dalk standing before the palace. As he caught sight of her he quickly began walking towards them.

Kahina walked forward, with Hassan and Luko behind.

Dalk met her halfway. She saw he had a sword buckled at his waist. It was hers, the one she had trained with in the rooms below the palace. It seemed so long ago.

‘You’re safe?’ Dalk asked, his face a mask of worry.

‘I survived. Hassan and Luko saved me.’

Dalk looked at the two traders with incredulity. ‘They did?’

‘Don’t look so surprised,’ Hassan said. ‘We’re not as dumb as we look.’

‘But what happened?’ Dalk demanded.

‘Octavia tried to kidnap me,’ Kahina explained, breathlessly. ‘Blackmailed Hassan, fortunately he had an attack of conscience.’

‘She’d planted a bomb and a transponder on my ship,’ Hassan added. ‘But I swapped them out.’

‘Damaged her ship, we only just got out …’ Kahina continued.

‘… and the Feds finished her off,’ Hassan finished. ‘Luko turned up just in the nick of time.’

Luko acknowledged Dalk’s look with a brief nod.

‘I knew we couldn’t trust her,’ Dalk admitted. ‘But I didn’t anticipate she’d try to abduct you right out of the air. What did she intend?’

‘Who’s to say?’ Hassan asked, giving Dalk a quick glance.

‘Enough of her,’ Kahina said, ‘She’s dead and gone. New Ithaca. Is my home secure?’

‘The Island is ours and we’ve captured the few surviving Reclamists,’ Dalk said. ‘The Federation fleet is departing and the Imperial representatives are already on their way down. The moon is yours.’

Kahina nodded and swallowed. ‘And Vargo?’

‘We have him,’ he announced. ‘Inside.’

Kahina pursed her lips.

‘Time for this to be ended then. Bring him out.’

Dalk bowed and retreated into the palace. A moment later a man was hauled out, stumbling between two Imperial guards. Dalk walked behind, a gun trained on the captured man.

It was Vargo. He was pulled roughly forwards. His clothing was dusty, frayed, burnt in places, his body bloodied and stained. One of his eyes was missing, a gory socket was all that remained. He collapsed to his knees as Dalk’s guards released him.

‘Leader of the Reclaimists. The last of them,’ Dalk announced.

Kahina looked at him with disgust, stepping towards him.

‘My sword,’ she demanded.

Dalk handed her the ornate scabbard he’d been carrying for her. Kahina accepted it and then drew the blade, holding it aloft.

‘Perhaps you remember me, Vargo,’ she said. ‘I had this sword then too, but now the odds are in my favour.’

‘Imperial flux-stain …’

Dalk struck him down and he fell, spread-eagled on the floor.

‘Enough, Dalk,’ Kahina said. ‘Give it up, Vargo. Surrender to me.’

Vargo slowly and painfully raised his head, looking at her. ‘You think you’ve won, Imperial slut? You think you have your world back?’’

His voice choked off in a fit of coughing, only belatedly did Kahina realise he was laughing.

‘Chione is mine now,’ she replied. ‘Your Federation friends have deserted you, their fleet is already leaving. You’ve lost.’

‘Your Imperial control will fail. Empires fall little girl, remember that. You won’t last long.’

‘Long enough.’

‘I’d watch him if I were you,’ Vargo smirked, gesturing vaguely towards Dalk. ‘He’s betrayed us both.’

‘Dalk was always acting in my interests,’ Kahina countered.

‘Playing you for the fool you are … Chione will never be yours. He’ll turn on you like he turned on me.’

Vargo smiled at the look of doubt that passed across her face. In that moment he lurched forward, a dagger somehow appearing in his right hand. Kahina deftly sidestepped the blow, expertly turning her sword in a practiced cutting move.

Vargo fell onto his back, gasping in astonishment.

 His throat was cut.

Kahina stepped over his convulsing body, looking towards the smoking remains of the Imperial Palace.

‘Clean up this mess,’ she instructed.

***

Kahina walked on into the palace, entering through the remains of the once beautiful flamewood doors. Their bright steel bindings were twisted and cracked, the colonnade above shattered and fractured. She walked onwards, through the grand foyer and up to the dark panelled doors that led into the reception hall. They too were scarred and timeworn, their immaculate veneer and thick polish cut and scraped, but they still held firm.

She’d stood here before, not so long ago, awaiting her father’s pleasure. A father who had never cared for her, but just used her, exploiting her for his own ends. A rule ended in ignominy.

Now it is my turn to rule.

She pushed the doors aside and walked forward into the shattered remnants of the reception hall. It reeked of smoke and weapons fire. The beautiful mosaic flooring was ruined, smashed and churned to rubble. Here and there tattered fragments of the once beautiful tapestries lay burnt and frayed.

Part of the ceiling had fallen in, with daylight shining through the gap, a column of light with motes of dust dancing within. Doors were broken, columns riddled with bullet holes. The grand staircase she remembered fleeing up with her sister had caught fire and was still smouldering away. Statues, urns, works of art were all defaced, crushed and shattered beyond repair.