Star Brigade: Resurgent (Star Brigade Book 1) (17 page)

“[But don’t let your hearts fret on such matters. Trust in me, trust in Korvan and continue to hone your talents. The day will soon come when the holographic plains you stand on now will be genuine. That will be the mark of true freedom for our species, my brethren.]”

Maelstrom turned and headed for the plain’s horizon where an egress in the hologram slid opened. Right after he exited and the door closed, the Korvenites finally started breathing again. Then the exclamations spilled out.

“[Sweet Korvan! That was even more amazing than in space.]” Cymae gasped.

“[He’s so…so overwhelming. But in a good way!]”

“[I’d follow him to death…]”

Vantor blinked, his eyes never left the area where Maelstrom exited. And no one heard when Maelstrom reached out to him alone before leaving.

[You inspire those around you, youngling. That is the quality I see in a future leader.]

Vantor felt his eyes begin to water from the compliment.

Almost ten macroms later, Maelstrom stood in another room of his vast space vessel. Unlike the HLHG suite, it had real amenities; couches, lofty walls splashed in eye-catching Korvenite symbols and a viewport that displayed Retributionaries in training. The llyriac’s personal attendant Thrace and three other Korvenites stood waiting for Maelstrom; his inner circle.

“[What news?]” Maelstrom faced the viewport of his ready room, arms crossed behind his back.

“[The raid on the Hommodus moon Hllojjo was successful, just as I foresaw,]” answered a short bald Korvenite named Oreis. He was the only other fully ordained llyriac among Maelstrom’s advisors and very skilled at the clairvoyant ability Mindsee. “[Our Retributionaries got in, took out the security regiment, rescued all our brethren and escaped before any other Union forces were alerted. They’ll rendezvous with us on Bimnorii. The new Korvenites will add another five hundred into our ranks.]”

That put the total of Korvenites Maelstrom had freed at more than 3,000. Not nearly enough given the many internment camps sprinkled all over Union Space. Maelstrom glanced over his shoulder, affording his subordinate a faint smile. “[Good. Atanos?]”

Atanos, who handled the ship’s operations, was everything Oreis wasn’t: tall, strapping and handsome by Korvenite standards. He also had a rare talent among his peers for Mindshift, but thought far too highly of himself due to those attributes. “[We’re making good time in our trip to Bimnorii, and should be there within the next five days.]”

“[Any worry from probes or scans?]”

Atanos shook his head, jostling the lazy ringlets of lilac hair falling past his shoulders. “[None, Lord Maelstrom. The Libremancer’s sensory shroud remains stable, even with the growing number of Union patrol ships searching for us.]”

When Maelstrom finally turned from the viewport, he looked upon the last of the trio. “[Isar?]”

The chief technician for the Korvenite Independence Front cleared his throat before speaking. “[There are still some kinks in the Union technology we’ve ‘acquired’. We’re working to correct that, but right now I wouldn’t feel safe testing it on our brethren, even if they’re in Retributionary armor.]”

Maelstrom frowned, sending his displeasure in empathic ripples among the Korvenites before him. “[I expected faster progress, Isar. What about those Union blueprints?]”

Isar gulped. “[Our spies will transfer them to me within a week.]”

“[Good. I want to be informed the moment you get them. Analyze every microstructure on those blueprints. Make sure we know this new Union weapon inside and out.]” Maelstrom grinned wide enough to let his subordinates know he was pleased with most of their progress so far. He sensed their unwavering belief in Korvan’s Way, but praising subordinates was only good in small doses. Thrace, his attendant, stood like a shadow near the exit. Because of her ability to psionically record what she saw in flawless clarity, Maelstrom had her in these meetings if he needed to recall exact details.

“[We’re getting there my brethren, step by step. With Korvan on our side and three years of planning, we
will
take our planet back.]” The llyriac beheld the other Korvenites in the room with pride.

Maelstrom felt at ease among this group. Most of his other followers all but deified him. While there was no question that he, Korvan’s Anointed emissary, deserved their obedience, it felt wrong that some saw
him
as the deity instead of Korvan. His inner circle respected him and followed his lead, but because they believed in his dream of a free Korvenite race living on Sollus again. They were what kept Maelstrom focused. Something peculiar flickered against his mind, so brief he almost missed it. The Korvenite narrowed his eyes and glared at its source.  “[Have something to say, Atanos?]”

The tall Korvenite looked shocked, and shook his head. “[It’s not important Lord Maelstrom—.]”

“[If not, then why does it trouble you?]” Maelstrom asked with dangerous softness, eyes gleaming.

A nervous silence followed his words. Everyone looked toward Atanos. The Korvenite tossed back his hair, steeling himself before speaking. “[I just see no point in wasting time to get to Bimnorii. Its almost two weeks away, even at top FTL speed. And the scant amount of our brethren on that arid wasteland is not worth leaving Union Space with so much to still do here.]”

Maelstrom sensed Atanos bracing for a reprimand. “[A bold statement,]” was all the llyriac said while rubbing his chin. Atanos visibly relaxed and sighed, dropping his guard.

And Maelstrom lashed out.

Atanos yelped as Korvan’s Anointed violently yanked him forward with Mindshift, catching him by the throat. Maelstrom’s fingers tightened. Atanos choked. The Korvenite leader held him high off the ground. Oreis, Isar and even Thrace darted forward. A surge of shock rippled through the three.

“[Lord Maelstrom, please! He meant no ill will!]” Isar pleaded.

Maelstrom ignored him and all other pleas for mercy. His black eyes reflected no light.

“[So the lives of Bimnorii’s Korvenites are of no consequence? That they don’t matter?]” Maelstrom whispered with icy venom. Atanos’ lack of concern for his fellow brethren was appalling—
unacceptable
.

Atanos frantically clutched at Maelstrom’s arm, coughing and sputtering. Aside from his inner circle, the llyriac shielded the rest of the Unilink from this. No need to expose others to one fool’s weakness.

“[He made a genuine mistake, Lord,]” Oreis pleaded, his hands raised beseechingly. “[Let him go!]”

But Maelstrom stayed fixated on Atanos, fury ruling him. “[The moment you deem but one Korvenite life worthless is the moment you forsake your place at my side,]” snarled the llyriac. “[May Korvan have mercy on your lack of conviction.]” Maelstrom’s rage ripped through the room, flooding the minds of all. Thrace was howling, Isar begging. And Atanos’ frantic struggles soon grew weaker, his eyes becoming glassy.

[Isydryas!]

The voice boomed in Maelstrom’s head, and only his. He turned to see Oreis looking back. The older llyriac’s eyes were black as night, calm yet cutting, finally reaching the Korvenite leader.

Maelstrom shot a glance at Thrace and Isar. Both looked terrified. That same fear echoed throughout their minds. He felt no sorrow for what he did, but as clarity returned, the llyriac knew he did not want to kill Atanos. Maelstrom lowered his hand and dropped the Korvenite. Atanos lay in a heap at Maelstrom’s feet coughing violently as he gasped in as much nitrogen as his lungs would allow. Maelstrom dropped to one knee at Atanos’ side.

“[Every. Korvenite. Life. Is valuable.
Never
forget that lesson, Atanos,]” he whispered, rising to his feet. “[You all know your tasks. Get to them.]” Maelstrom turned back to the viewport that watched over the Retributionaries training. He sensed Isar and Thrace gather up Atanos as they left. Oreis, however, lingered behind. The other llyriac’s discontent hung in the air, further souring Maelstrom’s mood.

[I know what Bimnorii significance is to you, Maelstrom. But to take it out on Atanos—]

“[Get
out
.]” Maelstrom snapped. Oreis stood stock-still, before bowing reverently and departing.

The Korvenite leader closed his eyes and basked in the silence. Bimnorii was important to him. The last of his family died on that world. It was his obligation to free any Korvenite that still drew breath. None would suffer the way he and his kin did on that parched excuse for a planet. He wouldn’t accept it.

Maelstrom sucked in a deep breath. Brushing what just happened from his mind, he dove back into the sea of thought that was the Unilink. In particular, Maelstrom focused on the Korvenites training to better their use of Korvan’s gifts. Their enthusiasm to learn soothed him.

[Sollus will be ours again, my brethren,]
he sent the encouragement out in faint, gentle waves through the Unilink.
[Trust in me, trust in Korvan and we’ll all see home soon.]

9.

Rhyne splashed streams of warm light through the viewport in Habraum Nwosu’s bedroom, spotlighting the sable Star Brigade captain’s uniform he hoisted up. Just five days ago, the Cercidalean had never honestly thought he would ever wear the outfit again. That was until yesterday when Habraum had donned it on his trip to Conuropolis’ Diktat District.

“Back in the saddle, yea?” Habraum muttered with a taut grin, packing the outfit into a large suitcase on his bed with the utmost care. The press of a small button slid the suitcase’s sealing flap tightly over the items it contained.

In Conuropolis yesterday, Habraum had met with Admiral Hollienurax and other chiefs of the Union Command Joint Special Operations Group to sanction Star Brigade’s reactivation and his reenlistment as Brigade Executive Officer. Habraum had played his part well, a role he’d learned years ago under the harsh glare of post-war fame. His conversant banter and cache of Cerc-folksy quips seemed to charm the daylights off these UComm higher-ups, all of whom had been fans since his past days as a hero of the Ferronos Sector War. The years had not quieted Habraum’s discomfort with being a minor luminary in others’ eyes. However, his ‘star power’ combined with his pre-Beridaas track record was enough to convince these seasoned JSOG chiefs that he could turn Star Brigade around; at least that’s what their pats on the back and pleased expressions had alleged.
Best I not prove them wrong, or that fekwit Greystone might have their ears again.

Today was looking like the start of a fruitful morning in Terra Sollus’ British-peopled nation Albion. The Cerc’s outlook was bolstered by his view of central Albion’s Covingshire, a verdant sun-dappled countryside with rising and falling hills that sprawled on for miles. Too bad Habraum could not fully embrace his outlook, try as he might. He was operating on little sleep, jarred awake in the middle of the night dripping with beads of ice-cold sweat. A toxic blend of strange dreams and noxious doubts had been the culprit, denying him any further slumber. Before he had known it, first light had caught him unaware.
A foul parting gift from Beridaas
, Habraum scowled, silently cursing these erratic panic attacks as he had gone to ready Jeremy for school. Since he had decided to return to Star Brigade, panic attacks had become a far too familiar occupant in his bed.

On the morrow, he would be moving with Jeremy from his Covingshire home to Star Brigade’s headquarters on the military starbase Hollus Maddrone. News of the move had excited his son; especially when Habraum had told Jeremy of Hollus’s location inside of the gas giant Zeid, Terra Sollus’s neighboring planet. “We get to live inside a gas giant?! I can’t wait to tell my mates at school!” his son had cried, that adorable collision of Albion-British and Cercidalean accents always more pronounced whenever the boy fancied something. At least one of them was pleased by the transition.

Thankfully Habraum had pulled a few strings to get his son a two-orv roundtrip to and from Terra Sollus. That way Jeremy could remain in Poseidon Prep. Habraum had spared no expense to make the transition less jarring and Jeremy more at ease in his new, albeit temporary home.

More at ease
…. The words stuck in Habraum’s head like glue. How at ease will a young boy stay living on a starbase? The Cerc let out a bark of humorless laughter despite himself. He dreaded the day when Jeremy would start hating it. All their progress over the past year, annihilated. Habraum reassured himself
in just a few months, this would be home again. He took a long look around his bedroom and nodded approvingly. Seven suitcases of clothes and two hefty cases of portable items should be enough. “CM-Tao,” Habraum called out. In nanoclics, a bulky-looking carriermech zoomed to his door, awaiting commands. “Except for the bed, these ones are good to go.” The mech zipped into the room, snatched up the specified cases as ordered and then zipped away. Habraum strolled out of his room and into Jeremy’s down the hall, which was empty. With Jeremy at school, the Cerc had packed up every last thing in the boy’s room.

The seven-bedroom estate, nestled deep in the Covingshire town Redgrave, had been Habraum’s way to give his family a great home despite his many job-related absences. He’d had it built during his fourth year as a Brigadier, after Jenn and Jeremy had lived both on Hollus a few years and then Cercidale for one. Besides the estate’s nearness to Jeremy’s school in Albion’s capital Sheffield, it was a hemisphere away from the overcrowded political monstrosity that was Conuropolis. This past year was the longest Habraum had ever spent in Covingshire, and he had adored every moment of it. The simplicity and peace with the right proximity to the city-state Sheffield had been just what he needed. Plus, Albion’s human residents spoke with funny ‘British’ accents similar to his own kind, especially in Sheffield and Covingshire. It explained the various communities of Habraum’s fellow crimsonborn sprinkled throughout the Terra Sollan nation. So despite relocating to Hollus, Habraum was keeping the house.