Falco Invictus: On the Forge of War (7 page)

The master of the Falcanian warship, aided
by his Garuda thrusters, jumped into the air. His eerie,
translucent-green wings slightly extended. With a tri-claw boot,
the young warrior slashed the battle android, gripped and then
pushed it onto the finished floor of the ships gymnasium. Another
battle droid came at him, this time with his katar the young,
powerfully built Falcanian male thrust the honed edge of the
triangular sword into the combat automaton and pressed the sword
deeper.

By all accounts Kulcarin Aranskrai would be
thought a brawny man. Like his namesake, the Khan of the Atlaar
tribe in the Telchar Shanral Kulcarin to remained steadfast and
devoted to his Shotar. Muscles rippled, and bulged down his chest,
he was not overly muscular yet well sculpted and his refined sinews
spoke of tremendous strength. Kulcarin, like any Falcanian, had the
strength of twelve normal humans. A perfect golden complexion
glistened fresh with sweat. Angled green eyes burned with the soul
of his people. Kulcarin wore his black hair long as was custom
among the males of his kind and had braided it thick with
dreadlocks. A mustache drooped over his lip, finished by a
goatee.

Kulcarin Aranskrai’s mother came from Nepal
and his father heralded out of Russia. They were brought into the
Phoenix Project by Sitara's grandparents. His father, Vultan, had
been ex-Russian intelligence and his mother Kalpana was an
archaeologist. Both had contributed much to the Falcanian
cause.

“Bashir,” a voice called over a speaker.
“The
Excalibur
just arrived at the Primus colony.”

“Understood,” Kulcarin said while he toweled
off and headed out of the room.

Colonel Aranskrai crossed the length of his
ship and entered the well-lit command center of the
Tair'Aliran
. His second officer removed himself from the
throne that sat on a raised area in the center of the command area.
Stations were placed so each officer could look at their commander
and their instruments.

“Report!” Kulcarin commanded as he settled
in his chair.

“The Imperium’s vessel assumed a standard
orbit around Primus.”

Aranskrai leaned back and watched the white
ship circle the green world below. He wanted very much to hear what
was being discussed with the command crew of the
DSV
Excalibur
. It would make his job easier. “Do they know we are
here, Shierak?”

“No, my Drak.”

“Move the
Tair'Aliran
into a
shadowing orbit;. Match whatever the
DSV Excalibur
does.”
Kulcarin Aranskrai stroked his goatee, while he contemplated his
next move. Luckily for him, Sitara thought to make these starships
able to deflect most modern scanners. The young lord hoped the
other ship was not as sophisticated or could detect them.

Lord Aranskrai longed to hold his love, the
Princess Sitara. He had been away from her for far too long and he
knew that by now Sitara must have returned home from her duties on
Mars. Being aboard this vessel, this F-9 Raptor constantly kept her
in his mind.

Kulcarin refocused and set his mind to why
he had come here. He recalled what the Shotar ordered him to do:
“Kulcarin, I want you at Primus waiting for the DSV Excalibur.
Once there you are to find out where they are headed. Our
intelligence has informed us that the American Imperium intends to
send her to meet with an alien species and form an alliance. You
are to use any means necessary to stop that from
happening.”

Indeed that was a revelation to the young
Falcanian. Mankind had reached out to space for many years since
The Singularity. They even founded colonies and space stations, but
had yet to make contact with an alien race. It began to look as if
humanity were truly alone in the vastness of the universe. There
were legends, whispers that aliens did exist and had no interest in
humanity. Sightings of strange vessels which passed by planets and
odd readings from ship sensors hinted of something. No other
sapience had approached the third planet in orbit of Sol or any of
its scouts. It seemed almost as if whoever might be out there
deliberately avoided humanity.

If it were true that the
DSV
Excalibur
had been sent to greet aliens and bring them into an
alliance on the Imperium’s side, then Sharr and the Dreikatha were
rightly concerned to send Kulcarin on this mission. No greater
disaster could befall the Falcanians than if the Imperium aligned
itself with an alien power. Such would unbalance Earth’s affairs.
The primary concerns were of course a matter of technology. If
aliens, who conceivably had journeyed the stars for an untold
millennium joined themselves and exchanged knowledge with the
Imperium, Earth would fall to the Republic and the Falcanians would
become prime targets for its centurions.

“So are Teresa and young Luc well?"

Across the infinite vacuum, Captain Cole
Braden waited for the official from the Imperium to join himself
and his first officer, Commander Guillaume LaSalle.

Cole Braden, clean-shaven, in his
mid-thirties sported brown hair cropped in a style that his
nation’s military had adopted a very long time ago. He wore his
blue and white uniform with pride, its gold buttons polished to a
pure sheen. Opposite him sat the Frenchmen Guillaume LaSalle. At
twenty-one, he wore his hair short and lacked facial hair, even
though he personally had always fancied a beard. In his estimation
he looked better with one. An aura of magnetism surrounded LaSalle,
an eager energy which telegraphed a fantastic inner-strength. The
man oozed vitality.

“They’re fine,” LaSalle said.

“Outrageous is it not?” asked Cole.

“Sir?”

“Forced to be servants of the Imperium,”
Cole said resentfully. “Being made to await Trajan.”

Certain prejudices did not easily die. When
the USA collapsed, Europe had cheered, given voice to long
restrained thoughts. Until the fallout which had brought with it
strife that did not know national borders. Romulus had risen from
the chaos and bestowed new glory to a broken nation. Many across
the globe shuddered and feared that the “American” emperor would
make those he accused of betrayal pay for abandonment of his
nation. Indeed Romulus met them with his own onslaught and caused
them to requite for their unfaithfulness. Both Guillaume and Cole
understood this as they waited for Trajan to come and bequeath his
orders upon them.

“Lord Blud’s schemes disadvantage the
crown,” the XO observed.

“Gee,” Braden said. “Prime Minister Blud
cares little for how his policies affect the Crown’s honor,
provided he remains in power.” Cole always thought of himself as
pro-royal. These hard times called for a powerful king.

“King Odin should dismiss Archibald Blud.”
LaSalle would love to see the day Odin demanded Blud’s resignation.
The old warhorse wasted his honor with this risky alliance. Project
Excalibur
though seemed a boon. “It's time he uses his
enhanced strength and intellect and challenge the Imperator for
global supremacy.”

Braden shook his head. “Odin Battenberg
isn’t about to get rid of the man who gave him Windsor Castle or
the prestige that goes with it.”

“Speaking of conspiracies -”

LaSalle was cut short as the cabin’s door
opened. Not bothering to press the door chime, Trajan entered Cole
Braden’s office. He held the sealed orders for Cole Braden under
his arm. Unlike Cole and his crew, Trajan did not wear the blue and
white of the British fleet, yet dressed in Centurion armor,
complete with a gladius strapped at his side accompanied by a very
lethal coilgun. The Praetorian looked like he had stepped out of
the pages of history in his modern armor. Black hair cut in the
Roman style, worn as others long before him who bore the honor of
calling themselves “Centurion” once sported.

“I bring orders in the name of Imperator
Romulus. What you are about to read is to be kept inside this
office.” Trajan made no attempt to hide the fact he checked the
room for monitoring devices. Satisfied the room had not been
bugged, the Centurion continued. “The crew of the
DSV
Excalibur
are about to take the next step for humanity.”

Cole put his tea aside and picked up the
pouch sealed with the Imperial signet of Romulus; He broke the seal
and removed a folded letter as well as a small CD. The captain
opened the paper and glanced over the words. His eyes widened. He
could not believe what he had just read. Both Trajan and Guillaume
noticed the shocked expression on his face.

“Sir?” asked the Frenchmen.

Cole cleared his throat. “As of this date,
the
DSV Excalibur
is to proceed to region 30 by 70 by 42.
Once there, we are to await the arrival of an Iksar'rang ship and
proceed to open negotiations for the Imperium with the intent of a
treaty for common cause with the Iksar'rang Union.”

“Who... or what exactly are these
Iksar'rang?” In the pit of his stomach LaSalle was sure that he
would not like the answer.

“Guillaume… they... they are –”

“Aliens,” Trajan finished. “One of our
foldships was discovered by them. My government has been in contact
with the Iksar'rang and we found that we share mutual goals. The
DSV Excalibur
shall cement that treaty. Finally, after years
of conflict, Mother Earth shall be united in peace under the
Imperium’s flag.”

LaSalle had been right, he didn't like the
answer.

Captain Braden suddenly understood his true
mission as well as why his ship had been designed as it had been.
There were plenty of armaments on board: nuclear warheads, mass
drivers and assorted railguns. Enough power to allow the
DSV
Excalibur
to devastate an entire planet. Braden understood that
he and his ship were to be the Imperator’s sword.

“She's on the move,” Shierak Tariksar
reported from his station. “Thrusters only and breaking orbit.”

On the holoviewer, Kulcarin watched the
Excalibur
head away from Primus and go into foldspace.

Aranskrai’s voice remained low, deadly.
“Follow. Her.”

The
Tair'Aliran
's helmsmen matched
the course of their prey. They followed the collapse and expansion
of the fabric of space. This however could prove to be a problem
for Kulcarin and his crew. If they did not keep in the shadows of
the
DSV Excalibur
's sensors the Imperium vessel would become
aware of the
Bloodwing
as itself sundered the fabric of
space. They would need to be precise when they warped out of
foldspace so as to mask the collapse of their own
gravitic-bubble.

[Indian Ocean: Chrysanthemum Maru, 6:00 PM
Falcanian Standard Time]

Frederika held ivory chopsticks delicately
between her French manicured nails, clutching a sushi roll. She
dipped the roll into a lacquered bowl of hot wasabi and brought it
back up to her lush pink lips to take a full bite from the colorful
rice, seaweed, and salmon creation. Dressed in a green kimono, she
sat on a bamboo mat in the ship's galley, decorated in the same
Japanese style as the rest of the ship. The girls chatted and
giggled with one another as they always did at mealtimes. Mia sat
to Frederika's left at the floor level table and both had their
legs tucked underneath them.

“I like your nails,” Mia said.

Frederika smiled at her companion.
“Danke.”

Ch'Kran Traken was also among the women,
which was most unusual. He didn't eat with the dancers. Frederika
assumed that he took his meals with the Captain in his cabin. In
any event, the blonde had been stunned when the Falcanian entered
the galley during the evening meal.

The Japanese crew deferred to the
Falcanian's traditions as Ch'Kran had been allowed to keep his
claw-boots on within the personal areas of the ship. This spoke so
much of the honor the Shogun held for his Falcanian allies.

Most of the girls were somewhat intimidated
by Ch'Kran. It was hard not to be as he walked around, his wings
hidden in his gray cloak most of the time and appeared to look
through them with his sapphire eyes.

“Excuse me.”

Frederika turned to look at the girl who
spoke to Ch'Kran. Sabina, a Cuban girl who like the majority of the
women headed for Vanguard was a brunette with long curly black
hair, not to mention a well developed chest and creamy olive
complexion. It seemed Sharr preferred brunettes and Frederika was
one of the few exceptions.

“Yes, Sabina?” Ch'Kran asked. Nothing
escaped the male's attention. He made it a point to memorize each
girl's name.

“What exactly is Sharr’s, Hawk's proper form
of address? You have called him by a number of titles. 'Khan',
'Padishah', and ‘Shotar’,” Sabina asked. “Which title do we use and
how do we address him?”

A grin curved his lips. Matters of protocol
were things he enjoyed to discuss. “Shotar is my Lord Sharr's
proper, inherited title. It means 'Star-King'. Khan becomes part of
our crowned ruler's proper name. It is appropriate to call him
Sharr Khan or Hawk as he wills it. You may also use the title
'Drak' -- Lord if the need arises.”

“And Padishah?” Sabina pressed.

“Padishah is used as an honorific for formal
introductions.”

She bowed slightly. “Thank you.”

Mia giggled at a story Frederika had told
her when the shadow of Ch'Kran loomed over their table. The two
girls slowly glanced up at the Falcanian. Mia noticeably shrunk in
her spot.

“Yes Ch'Kran?” Frederika asked. Her tone was
slightly one of challenge as she looked up at the Falcanian who
lorded himself over them.

The Falcanian once more grinned. “I simply
wished to see if you were enjoying your meal, my
Ch'Rahli-Valka.”

“I am, we both are.” Frederika took a sip
from her steaming tea. “The chef is a master of his art.”