The Only Game in the Galaxy (18 page)

‘How much longer?’ growled Maximus.

The Envoy appeared to consult an inner oracle, though Maximus knew he did not have bio-tactical implants like Maximus did.

‘At the present rate, one week.’

Maximus swore softly and observed the main viewscreen. It showed various video feeds from Omega, the outer moon of the Malthus system, where massive-scale embarkation had been instituted. One after another, the great dreadnoughts had grounded in city centres around the planetoid, dropped open their vast docking doors, and sent out a genetically programmed signal that the transmogrified Omegans were compelled to obey, herding themselves into great storage bays like sheep.

‘A week is too long,’ Maximus muttered to himself, scowling. ‘Too long.’

They had already been there eight days. His frustration was growing. He had sent word to the Quesadan Confederation, prepping them for war. Part of his frustration was that, despite his intellectual understanding of the process, they had returned to the ‘present’ with barely a day of elapsed time.

Reaching a decision, Maximus stood up. ‘I’m leaving for Lykis Integer,’ he said. ‘You will complete the embarkation and proceed as planned.’

‘As you wish,’ said the Envoy.

‘Transfer to the
Parsec Eater
. I’m taking the
Saviour
to Lykis Integer. If you have any trouble with the mob’ – he was referring to the skeleton crew of cut-throats and mercenaries they’d picked up on a quick detour to Reema’s End – ‘kill the ringleaders. Do not allow any delay.’

The Envoy nodded, turned on his heel, and left.

Three days later, the
Saviour
was in a clandestine position in the outer asteroid belt of the Lykis Integer system. Maximus took one of the dreadnought’s shuttles and touched down at the main city port, amid looks of awe and wonder from the docking engineers that the museum piece he was flying had landed in one piece. Some even joked with him as he disembarked.

‘Picked it up for a song,’ Maximus returned proudly, enjoying the banter. There were hoots of laughter.

Feeling good, he left the engineers running their hands reverently over the shuttle’s hull, unaware his pleasure came from rejoining humanity.

Maximus reported immediately to RIM. Inexplicably, RIM still felt like family to him.

Commander Jake Ferren buzzed him as soon he reached his office. ‘We need to talk.’

Maximus checked his appearance in a holo-mirror, wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, and headed to the commander’s office. He reminded himself that he hadn’t been gone long from RIM’s point of view, and that his visit was useful – he had to know what RIM knew, and what it was planning. Nevertheless, he fretted.

‘Come in, lad! Come in.’ Jake bade him take an armchair and served Ruvian coffee. ‘Good trip?’

Maximus mentally rolled his eyes. The commander had
no
idea.

‘Yes, sir. Fruitful.’

‘Good, I’ll look forward to your report.’

‘What’s happening on the home front, sir? RIM seems to be buzzing.’ From the moment he’d stepped into the building he’d felt it: a suppressed excitement rippling through the walls and floor.

Jake shook his head and groaned. ‘The Quesadan Confederation has moved to a war footing and seems to be expecting a pre-emptive strike. The Imperial Myotan Combine is battening down the hatches – but I’m puzzled. The IMC isn’t crazy enough to go after Quesada on its own, and it has no additional allies. Quesada must know this. They’d also know the IMC could hold off any attack – they’re too evenly matched for a clear outcome, and neither is inclined to gamble on such poor odds. On top of that, something strange is happening in the Pavonis Sector, though we’ve no clear intel, just local rumour.’

Maximus sipped his coffee. ‘If Quesada and the IMC went to war, sir, would RIM intervene?’ he asked casually.

Jake jumped up and started to pace, shaking his head angrily. ‘We’re in no position to do so,’ he said. ‘Rench’s time in office weakened the organisation too much. Of course, if the Sentinels were still active it’d be a different matter. Much as they like to go it alone, we have a long history of precedents for working together …’

Maximus had heard enough. With RIM out of the picture he could move with impunity. And by the time RIM decided to leap into the coming fray – if they did – it would be too late: he’d have the upper hand, both militarily and symbolically.

Maximus’ attention was caught by the quantum capsule on the commander’s side table. Seeing Maximus’ interest, Jake motioned him to pick it up. Inside, locked into another universe, were family souvenirs: a photograph, a lock of hair, bits and pieces of somebody’s past. Perhaps their future, too.

‘You don’t see many of these, sir. May I ask where you got it?’ Maximus felt an odd curiosity about the capsule.

‘It was forwarded to me by Anneke Longshadow, but took its time getting here.’

Maximus looked up. ‘Do you think it’s a clue to her whereabouts?’

Jake shrugged. ‘We can’t find the code. I don’t suppose you’d have any suggestions?’

Actually, Maximus did. In his (failed) attempt to crack Oracle, the huge central RIM computer, he’d discovered serendipitously that the super-computer employed dimensional ‘locks’ using the same principle as a quantum capsule. Oracle stored, and performed, its most secretive computations inside a different dimension, making those computations hacker-proof.

At the time, he’d been frustrated, but it was the nature of Maximus’ mind that, once set a problem, a tireless part of it gnawed away at it until it was solved. Ever since, he’d wanted another crack at Oracle, just to show that no overgrown calculator was going to get the best of Maximus Black.

But that satisfaction would have to wait.

He told the Commander his theory on how to crack the quantum code. He knew he was showing off, that there was nothing in this for him, but he didn’t care. Jake’s eyes widened as he listened. He had Maximus repeat the theory into a datt wafer.

Jake whistled. ‘My boy, you never cease to amaze me. I’ll get my people on this right away.’

Maximus finished his coffee and stood. ‘I’d better get on with that report, sir.’

Jake’s voice stopped him at the door. ‘You haven’t heard anything, have you? About Anneke?’ He sounded tired and sad.

‘No, sir,’ said Maximus. ‘But I’m sure she’ll turn up – in time.’

He went to the thirtieth floor and knocked on the door. It was opened by Esprin Harbage, who immediately tried to shut the door in his face. Maximus shouldered his way in and sat down.

Esprin glowered at him. ‘Come to shoot me again?’

‘What are you complaining about?’ said Maximus. ‘I merely stunned you. Believe me, it was necessary.’

Esprin ignored this. ‘Where have you been?’ he asked peevishly. ‘I’m nearly out of antidote.’

Maximus reached into his pocket and tossed a vial to the agent. Relief spread across Esprin’s features.

‘Pack your bags,’ said Maximus. ‘We’re going on a trip. We mightn’t be back for a while and we don’t want you dying too soon, do we?’

The relief in Esprin’s eyes changed to fear.

The
Saviour
edged out of the asteroid field and dived toward deeper space. In a portside passageway, Maximus stopped before a door. He knocked, cleared his throat, and stepped inside.

Jeera Mosoon was sitting stiffly on a divan. She glared at Maximus, then looked away, as if ignoring him would make a difference. It did.

Maximus set down the tray he’d been carrying.

‘Breakfast, Jeera,’ he said.

‘How nice,’ she said, scornfully. ‘You actually feed your kidnap victims.’

Maximus poured two cups of coffee and placed one near Jeera’s elbow. He sat down opposite, warily. The day before she’d tried throwing her scalding coffee in his face. As before, she studiously ignored him, and he took the opportunity to study her. He could see why he was so fascinated by her, and also why he had lost control with Hester (he chided himself bitterly for his reaction): in profile, they were remarkably similar. So similar, they could have been sisters.

A rather unsavoury notion occurred to him. He quickly pushed it away, sipping his coffee.

‘You must be hungry,’ he said.

‘When are you going to let me go?’

Maximus sighed. ‘Believe it or not, I brought you here for your own good. Lykis Integer may not be a healthy place before long.’

Jeera snorted. ‘Because you’re going to blast it?’ Maximus raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ve obviously located one of the old weapon caches. Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t this a dreadnought, old Demon class?’

Maximus looked down at his coffee cup, then at her again. ‘I want you to like me,’ he said.

Jeera snarled and Maximus could see she was about to say something scathing when she stopped herself.

‘You have a funny way of wooing a girl,’ she said, her voice softer. ‘Imprisoning her for months on end, forcing her to decrypt your puzzles, infecting her with a deadly virus, shooting her …

Maximus shook his head. ‘First, I didn’t infect you with a virus. If I had, you would’ve died when you were removed from my underground station. Second, I shot you with an amnesiac – to protect you. Third, I expended every effort, across several planets, to rescue you.’

Jeera tried to maintain her anger, but they both knew what Maximus was saying was true. She hadn’t died. The amnesia had kept her alive. And he had rescued her – right down to the fairy-tale kiss on the lips.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘And now you’ve saved my life again, according to you.’

‘I didn’t have to come and get you.’

‘You mean, kidnap me?’

Maximus laughed. He was doing that more and more lately. ‘Sorry. I didn’t have to come and
kidnap
you.’

‘Am I free to go?’

He nodded. ‘I will stop anywhere on my route and drop you off, just name the planet. And if it’s not on my route, then you can have a shuttle and go wherever you please. You’ll have noticed the door to your apartment hasn’t been locked since you came aboard.’

‘I assumed it was a trick.’

‘No tricks. If you come to the bridge with me I’ll show you our course. Tell me where you want to go, and it’s done.’

Jeera picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. She sat back and regarded Maximus. ‘You’re not a very nice person, you know.’

Maximus tilted his head. ‘I’m trying.’

‘I can see that. I’m just not sure why.’

‘I like you.’

Jeera peered at him. ‘Do you?’

He nodded, said nothing. Emotion churned within him, and he was unused to it, afraid of it. What was happening to him? The old armour, the old frigid loathing of the universe, seemed to be weakening. He wasn’t sure he liked it. Sociopathic tendencies never died, sometimes they lay dormant.

‘Okay, I’ll stay,’ she said. Maximus’ heart leapt. ‘But –’

Maximus froze. ‘Yes?’

‘I want a shuttle removed from the tactical loop, programmed to respond to my voice and identity only. I want the key to the shuttle, and I want it stocked with food and everything I need if I decide to leave suddenly. I want all telltales removed, no signals to pop up on your board, no notifications, nothing. If you wake up one day and I’m gone, then you’ll know what I decided.’

Maximus was silent for a moment. ‘I accept,’ he said. He meant it too, though the idea of getting someone to do what he wanted by offering them the freedom to do the opposite went against some deep instinct inside him. Maybe this is what normal people did.

‘So where are we going?’ asked Jeera.

Two days later, in a coordinated manoeuvre with the remainder of the
Draconis
fleet under the command of the Envoy, the
Saviour
and the other dreadnoughts jumped into planetary orbit around Se’atma Minor.

From the bridge porthole, Maximus gazed directly down at the Fortress of Kestre.

T
HE
master key had gone missing during the night.

The computer logs showed an unauthorised entry in a minor airlock near the aft engine nacelle. The fact that the security comm had not been notified by the ship’s AI suggested a skilled intruder.

Herik was angry. The consequences of the theft could be devastating. He paced the captain’s ready room, blaming himself for the breach.

‘Stop it,’ Anneke said. Her sharp tone pulled him up, making him smile.

‘Okay,’ he said, ‘spilt milk. How do we guard against this?’

‘It’s not as bad as it looks. The other fleets are still on their way – on autopilot – and the master key is useless to anyone who doesn’t control this flagship. That’s how Klankis designed it, bless his alien heart, if he had one.’

Herik sat down at his desk, burying his head in his hands. ‘I’m so tired, I can’t think straight. You’re right, of course.’

Anneke sat beside him and put her arm around his shoulders. They were all tired. Herik had been organising the refitting of the fleet to the power source Maximus had attempted in the past, and Anneke had been drilling his men in the latest fighting skills, as taught by modern RIM warrior-mystics, as well as acquainting them with the intricacies of field-generators – with which they would be outfitted when they arrived at Se’atma Minor.

They had also been adapting the Old Empire blasters so that they could fire on stun. There weren’t enough hours in the day. Anneke knew war was brewing, and that the appearance of the dreadnoughts might not stop the carnage to come.

Nor was it a happy fleet. Herik’s men had lost everything; their families, their worlds, their past. And Anneke knew they could not go back – they never had been able to.

She realised Herik’s men were the famous Lost Legion, the battalion that had disappeared a thousand years ago, never to be seen again.

Until now.

Ironically, with morale so low, with so many plunged into despair, the coming war might prove the best medicine. Anneke felt that the looming battle was a continuation of the same war, begun so long ago.

She just had to convince Herik’s men of it.

Their arrival at Se’atma Minor caused an enormous stir amongst the locals, which took great diplomacy to placate. The anticipation of conflict between Quesada and the Imperial Myotan Combine was very real on Se’atma. RIM might be on the rise, but galactic society had broken down, and chaos and conflict raged in many sectors. It would take time before peace could be restored, if ever. Since the destruction of Kanto Kantoris, no world felt safe.

Anneke and Herik took up residency in the Fortress on Se’atma, that ancient symbol of empire, which Anneke knew would play a significant role in the war.

A war council was convened.

Apart from the military and political leaders of Se’atma Minor, Anneke had her own advisors reassembled: Lob Lotang, Fat Fraddo and Captain Arvakur (who gave Herik a chilly look).

They had barely begun the proceedings when word came that a second fleet of dreadnoughts had jumped into orbit. Moments later, the lead ship of the fleet hailed the surface. Anneke was alerted by Se’atma’s leaders and had the vessel placed on the viewscreen.

Maximus’ face – his unrenovated face – filled the screen.

Anneke’s heart sank.

Maximus was no less shocked at seeing her. He recovered first, giving Anneke a mock bow. ‘You recently suggested that I was a pawn, that the universe was playing with us. I think you may be right. Not that it matters. The game will be played to its end.’

‘What do you want, Brown?’

‘My true name is Maximus Black. I’m the mole at RIM that you’ve been seeking. When you see Commander Ferren, please do pass on my apologies.’

‘What do you want – Black?’

‘You will, in the name of the Quesadan Confederation, surrender the Fortress of Kestre to me, lay down your arms, disband all military forces, and provide my people with any assistance they require in their work to re-establish a galactic government.’

‘Don’t you mean
empire
?’

‘That is precisely what I mean,’ Maximus said.

Herik snorted. ‘We’ve had our fill of empire.’

Maximus turned to the man from the past. ‘Why, if it isn’t Herik of Vane.’ There were gasps and murmurs all over the room. Anneke waved them to silence. Maximus went on: ‘Forgive me if I don’t prostrate myself before you. I learned, during my interesting sojourn through your time, that history has a way of … fiddling with the truth.’

‘Well, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?’ said Anneke.

Maximus smiled. ‘You have eight hours. If you do not surrender, I will obliterate the Fortress and set up my seat of government – of
empire
– elsewhere.’

‘It might not be as easy as you think,’ said Anneke.

‘Eight hours. And counting.’

Maximus cut the connection.

The room plunged into uproar as everyone vainly tried to be heard. Herik’s bullhorn voice shouted them into silence. He motioned Anneke to take the floor.

‘You heard him,’ she began. ‘We have eight hours. Don’t fool yourselves into believing surrender is an option, that Maximus will deal lightly with us if we give up. The man is a brutal sociopath and a megalomaniac. He aims to see the Old Empire restored, and nothing short of that will satisfy him. If any feel that might not be a bad thing, I’m sure Herik – or his Lost Legion onboard
our
fleet of dreadnoughts – will be happy to set them straight. In the meantime, we must increase planetary defences and call in alliances. The stakes have never been higher: from this day forward, we can choose to live free or under the heel of a brutal tyranny.’

An hour later, when she managed to get away for a brief moment, Anneke secured a link to RIM and spoke to Jake Ferren. He was overjoyed to see her but appalled that war was imminent and that Maximus Black – who’d been sitting in his office two days earlier – was Nathaniel Brown, the mastermind they had been seeking for so long, and the man who had murdered Jake’s best friend, and Anneke’s beloved uncle, Viktus.

Jake cursed himself.

‘Plenty of time later for recriminations – I hope,’ said Anneke. ‘Right now, we need your help.’

They discussed the tactical situation. Jake promised to mobilise every RIM asset to assist Anneke, save those needed for a defence of Lykis Integer itself.

Anneke thanked Jake, promising to keep him informed.

‘I’m sending you an encrypted data package,’ he said, and they broke the connection.

Next, Anneke went to see Deema. The girl was overjoyed and threw herself, bawling like a baby, into Anneke’s arms. Anneke staggered and sat down on the floor, hugging the child, who suddenly pinched her hard. Anneke yelped.

‘Why’d you do that?’

‘To make sure you’re real,’ said Deema, dashing tears from her eyes. ‘And because if you are, you deserve it!’

Anneke laughed, then cried, then laughed again and held Deema as tightly as she could.

‘You’re squishing me,’ said Deema at last. ‘But I don’t mind.’

Anneke had Deema collect her belongings then took her to the Fortress, the safest place on the planet. Anneke nearly made a detour to see if Mirella, hidden at the empty Sentinel Consulate, was okay, but there wasn’t time. She would contact her later.

With Deema safely ensconced in her apartment, Anneke convened another war council. The usual faces were there, as well as men and women from the Se’atma Minor military bodies and intelligence agencies.

‘RIM is sending a large contingent, though Maximus believed they wouldn’t,’ Anneke began. ‘I have also been in contact with Bodanis and Sasume of the Imperial Myotan Combine, and they are also sending a massive force.’

A collective sigh of relief ran through the room, but Anneke dispelled it as quickly as she could. These people needed to know the hard reality they were facing.

‘The Omegans are, in essence, deformed Sentinels.’

The council members were appalled.

‘We’re doomed,’ said a dark-haired woman.

One man placed his hands over his ears, as if he could block out the horror of what he was hearing.

‘Maybe,’ said Anneke, ‘maybe not. But we have another card up our sleeve. We have a third fleet of dreadnoughts –’

Anneke was interrupted by the dark-haired woman. ‘How have they been discovered after so long?’

Anneke raised her hand. ‘There isn’t time for these questions now. By my calculations, the fleet is due to arrive inside the elliptic plane of the local star system within the next few hours. Right now, our naval forces and Maximus’ are evenly matched. But if we can capture this fleet before he does – and he will be aware of its coming, if not the time of its arrival – then we will drastically restore the balance of power in our favour.’

Herik rubbed his chin. ‘So we need a plan?’

‘And a back up, in case that one fails,’ said Arvakur, not to be outdone by Herik.

Fat Fraddo slapped his enormous thighs. ‘Optimism is good!’

Lob Lotang said nothing. Before the meeting, Anneke had told him what had become of Alisk, his lover. Already ill, dying from Maximus’ slave narcotic, he slumped further into dejection. Anneke felt profoundly sorry for him, though he had once tried to kill her.

A plan was knocked together and an assault team readied. Anneke returned to her apartment and spent some time with Deema, dozing briefly in the
zetus
sleep the RIM mystics had taught her. Roused, refreshed, she contacted Mirella to ascertain the woman was well and in need of nothing. Mirella, sensing danger ahead, wished her luck.

Moments after Anneke kissed Deema goodbye, and exited at a run, a data package from Jake was delivered. Deema called out to Anneke but she was already out of sight. Deema placed it on Anneke’s desk and hoped it wasn’t important.

Not knowing the exact coordinates the arriving fleet would jump to, Anneke had decided to assemble three separate task forces and position them at intervals around the elliptic.

She would lead one, Herik the second and Arvakur the third. Fat Fraddo had wanted to come, but some of the airlocks were too small for his bulk, so he jovially resigned himself to perpetrating murder and mayhem on solid ground. Lob Lotang had also volunteered, but Anneke told him to rest, as there would be plenty of fighting soon. He seemed content.

An hour later, with only three hours till Maximus’ deadline ran out, Anneke found herself floating like a piece of flotsam through the great ocean of space. She crouched in a small stealth scout ship, a twenty-strong task force sitting silently in the dark around her.

The ship, which contained a portable Dyson jump-gate to bring up reinforcements (and pilots) as rapidly as possible, had powered down, to avoid detection.

And now it floated in silence. Waiting.