Authors: Unknown Author
Untitled (52 page)
"I'll live, sir. That Slap you gave us saved my life, I think."
"Then, if you are ready, let's re-take the
Triumph
!"
* * * * *
Her heart was turning to stone as she made her way to the airlock.
She didn't want to go. She wanted to stay.
How had this happened?
She walked in and closed the door behind her.
She couldn't bear to say good-bye. If she thought about him for too long, she wouldn't be able to do it.
The airlock opened and she flew out, on silver wings.
* * * * *
He knew the ship better than any, and using all the various crawl spaces, nooks, and crannies, he and his small, blue-haired companion had eluded the invaders to this point. They could skulk about, unseen indefinitely.
But the invaders were so many, and the ship's complement of technicians, inspectors, Admiralty brass, and other assorted guests were no match for them. They were all dead. Even the Sisters and the Marines, taken by surprise, were dead.
The
Triumph
had fallen.
Lord Probert and Lady Branna were all that was left.
They could hear the sounds of battle ringing in from the outer hull. They could hear the brand new Sar-Beams uncoiling in their banks and knowing that those weapons were being aimed at their friends and comrades was enough to stop their hearts. They thanked Creation that they weren't mounting any canisters.
Lady Branna, showing the same courage she had before the Second Battle of Mirendra, wanted to disable the main junction to the SarBeam generators, but it was guarded by those people Cloaked to look like Princess Marilith.
All key areas were being guarded.
Another Sar-Beam blast. Explosions coming from outside.
Enough was enough … their friends might be dying out there.
They were going to the junction panel, and they were going to disable it, and if they died in the process, they died.
Lord Probert and Lady Branna were always arguing, always threatening each other. He loved to assure her that she would stand trial for war crimes for all the crazy ideas she had—a trial he will happily testify at—and she vowed that he would know what the inside of her dungeon at Castle Fallz looks like for being such a stodgy mope. But beneath the surface, they knew each other's quality.
Lord Probert: the design and systems man. Brilliant.
Lady Branna: the consummate innovator. Brilliant.
Through the panel, they could see ten "Mariliths" milling about, each holding an assortment of brassy, knobby weapons.
Taking a deep breath, Probert threw the hatch open. They climbed out.
The Fanatics looked at them, grinning, laughing.
"Look," they said, "our mice have come out of their hole."
Probert opened his coat and pulled out his CEROS.
The Mariliths broke into hysterical laughing.
These Fanatics had heard of the silly LosCapricos weapons that were once a great tradition in the League. A whiff of the past … an embarrassing ceremonial weapon conceived during a drunken, heady time. It probably didn't even work.
Probert held the CEROS prominently in front of him, showing it to them, as was the usual custom.
They began slowly walking toward them, relishing the torment that was to come.
Probert's arm shot out and the CEROS howled. A Fanatic was disemboweled. The disk in mid-flight changed course and returned to its master's hand, disemboweling two more along the way.
Stunned, the remaining Fanatics leveled their weapons and prepared to charge.
Probert threw again, this time sending it off the floor. In a bouncing, cavorting frenzy, it clanged about the hallway in a murderous, cutting cloud.
The Fanatics fell in pieces.
Lady Branna stepped through the grim harvest and reached the panel. Deftly, she ruined the junction panel, removing some components, smashing others.
The Sar-Beams will fire no more.
Embracing each other, they made for the crawl space again, to hide again.
A dark, robed figure waited for them.
* * * * *
As the
Seeker
and
Blue Max
chased the
Triumph
into the veil of space, the deadly Sar-Beams were an ever-present threat. Finding the
Blue Max
a much easier target, they concentrated on it, hitting her so many times the hull began to glow and vent high-pressure gas through numerous gashes in the hull.
Davage, the senior captain, was about to order Captain Wythleweir to beach her ship when fire from
Triumph
stopped cold. Free to lose, they pummeled it with canisters, being careful not to overly damage the
Triumph
, lest some of her crew still be alive and held prisoner.
The new shields installed on the
Triumph
were good, but several canister shots from
Seeker
and
Blue Max
brought them down anyway.
Loosing a canister, the
Seeker
holed the port warp drive nacelle, darkening it. The
Blue Max
loosed another canister and blew it clean off
Still moving, the
Triumph
made ready to warp away with only one engine. Before Davage could loose the final, crippling canister, the
Triumph
was gone in a flash.
Marilith, as she always had before, had escaped.
Seeker
and
Blue Max
trawled the area looking for lifeboats.
As Davage was busy with this and that on the bridge, he failed to notice that Syg didn't answer back. After a few minutes he realized that Syg had not answered.
Nothing.
Becoming concerned that Syg might have been injured, he Sighted down toward her quarters—they were empty, bedclothes tossed about.
He stopped a passing Sister.
"Sister, could you please tell me the current location of Sygillis of Metatron?"
The Sister paused a moment and then looked at him, smiling.
"Ki," Davage said, "what did she say?"
"Dav, she said that Syg's not on board."
Panic suddenly flooded into his mind. Where was Syg, what had happened to her?
"Sir," Sasai said at her Fore Sensing position, "we are closing on an unidentified object, four kilometers full a-beam. Type and composition unknown."
Dav Sighted and felt a wave of relief pass over him. He saw, floating in space, a large silver sphere.
He gave to helm to Saari. "Helm," he said, "bring us alongside the object and pull it in. Lieutenant, you have the bridge. I'm going to receive the object personally."
* * * * *
Davage made his way to the main docking bay. There, using docking cables, the silver sphere was pulled in.
He walked up to it. "Syg, you gave me quite a start," he said, smiling. "How'd you end up outside the ship?"
The silver sphere sat there.
Davage touched the silver—it was warm even though it had been subjected to the cold of space.
"Come on, Syg, I've got things to do. Out you come."
The silver surface shimmered and disappeared, dumping Lord Probert and Lady Branna to the floor.
"Lord Probert, Lady Branna—we feared you lost!"
They stood up and thanked their maker. Davage noted Probert was holding his CEROS in a shaking hand, and it was bloody.
"All dead, Dav … they killed them all.
"Are you all right?"
"Fine, fine," Lady Branna said, clearly shaken. "We disabled the Sar-Beams … Milos, he killed them with his weapon, and I disabled the …"
She appeared faint, and Davage held her up.
"Are the escort ships damaged? Were any destroyed?" Probert asked.
"The
Seeker
is fine, and
Blue Max
is damaged but serviceable. I … do not know about
Caroline,
and I fear for Captain Stenstrom."
Probert and Branna looked deflated.
Davage, still holding the faint Lady Branna, asked, "Milos, where's Sygillis?"
"She … she was on the
Triumph
, dressed in a black robe. She got us to an airlock and put us off the ship, encased in silver."
"Why didn't she come with you?"
"She appeared to be in a daze. She said she had to finish something. She wouldn't come. She wouldn't come with us," Lady Branna sobbed.
Davage felt a wave of agony pass over him. Syg, out there, all alone on the
Triumph.
"She … she gave me this to give to you, Dav," Probert said.
Probert handed Dav a small, folded piece of paper.
He opened it:
My Dearest Love …
I have been selfish. I wanted you all to myself. This conflict with Marilith will never end; I realize that now. I must go and finish this. If we are ever to know any peace, I must finish this.
Know that I love you with everything that I am, and it will be your memory alone that shall sustain me through the ordeal to come.
Know that every moment not spent with you is a moment lost forever.
I shall return as soon as I am able to do so, and then I will never leave your side again.
There is so much I want to give you …
S
Tears streaming down his cheeks, Dav Sighted the slip of paper. He saw, deep in his Sight, that, at one time, the paper had been held tightly to her breast.
He stood there looking at it for a long, long time.
13
The
Triumph
had vanished … gone into the long night of space. Following the battle, Davage escorted the
Blue Max
to sub-orbital Dry Dock 18 for an immediate inspection, the new ship badly damaged and venting, requiring a sharp counter-flood to fly true. Lady Branna's Sar-Beams were certainly much stronger than the standard Xaphan cassagrain.
Also, Davage was relieved to discover that the
Caroline
had safely beached in a field near Tartan, Captain Stenstrom managing to pull the ship out of its howling terminal dive. There, beached and smoking, he, with crew, Sisters, and Marines, fought and subdued the Fanatics.
Back to the area where
Triumph
warped away, he trawled space looking for any clue he could as to its heading and possible destination.
He found no trace. In a near panic, Davage beseeched Lady Branna to look for it with her
Venera
ship, being frustrated by the lack of complex sensing gear on his own ship. She did, gladly, owing her life to both Davage and Syg. She locked onto
Triumph's
ion trail and followed it as far as Hoban, where, apparently, it failed, the missing port tach drive overloading the system. But, as Stellar Mach was available, they blinked away, their wake already too far degraded to follow further.
He checked with Fleet, but the wires were dry. Kilos inquired with various Marine installations. They had lots of information on the usual suspects—raiders, pirates, disreputables, and the like, but no
Triumph
, no Princess Marilith, no Syg. Ennez checked with the Hospitalers, but they too had heard nothing.
Every ship, every outpost, was looking for
Triumph
, but it, as a ghost, had simply vanished.
Having nowhere else to turn and going mad with worry, he turned to Kilos, to her husband—that wondrous little man in Tusck. He begged Ki to ask her husband to look for clues as to the
Triumph's
whereabouts. It was against Fleet regulations to solicit a civilian source for information without Admiralty approval, but Davage didn't care. He didn't care about any of that—he wanted Syg back.
He could find out anything, Ki's husband. All Ki had to do was ask.
* * * * *
The Zen-La …
He tried to sleep, to calm his thoughts. He hoped the Zen-La worked, that he could reach her mind and determine where she was.
And then he will go to her and blast Marilith out of the sky. This time, there will be no kindness, no holding back … this time Marilith was going to die.
This time Marilith truly was his mortal enemy, and he was going to kill her.
So he tried to sleep, tried to reach Syg. As he drifted into exhausted sleep, the Zen-La worked.
And it was horrible.
He saw what Syg was seeing. He saw the Fanatics, all still Cloaked to look like Marilith.
She appeared to be tied down, restrained. They stood over her, leering, taunting, spitting on her.
And then, the knives came out, the instruments of pain and cruelty. The look of glee on their faces.
He saw Syg try to lift her arms to protect herself, but they held her down … and set to work on her.
The knives coming down.
"D
aaaaaaaaavvvvvvaaaaaaagggggeeee!
" she screamed.
And he could sleep no more …
* * * * *
"Dav?" Kilos said, walking into his office.
Davage sat behind his desk, large black bags under his eyes, his screen lit up with maps and charts. He looked thin and drawn.
Syg had been gone for four days. He hadn't slept, and he hadn't eaten. The memory of the Zen-La—it was unbearable.
No word … nothing. He'd rather he had a corpse to mourn than this emptiness, this lack of information, knowing only that she was in agony, crying out for him … and he could not help her.
She was gone … lost to the void.
Kilos sat down in front of him, and he barely acknowledged her presence. Never much for sentimentality, Ki nevertheless felt like crying; she couldn't stand to see Dav like this.
She wasn't around when the Marilith thing happened, but she remembered him with Captain Hathaline. That was bad; that was gutwrenching.
But this … she'd never seen him so laid bare, so bereft of hope.
"Dav, are you all right?"
He didn't respond.
"You haven't slept in days, you haven't eaten. Why don't you turn in? Let me help you to your quarters."
Nothing; he just stared at his screens. The Zen-La. She didn't understand.
He was lost in misery.
Ki sat there and stared at him.
"Dav, I just got a Com from my husband. I thought you'd want to know that right away," she said after a bit.