Wrath of Axia (The Arcadian Jihad) (2 page)

He was a man of peace, he always had been. But now he had no choice. He’d have to strike down anyone who tried to stop him. There were millions of lives at stake, billions, whole planets and systems. The future of humanity, thousands of years of human progress, was about to disintegrate into religious tyranny and slavery. He looked up as the guard loomed over his hiding place. The man looked down and grinned as he saw the ragged, emaciated prisoner cowering in the thick scrub. The prisoner didn’t hesitate; he leapt up and used the steel lever to deliver a blow that would crush the man’s skull. His first attack was blocked by the guard’s arm as the man reached up to defend himself. The man grunted as the prisoner’s steel bar broke a bone in his forearm and his arm dropped down, useless. The second blow didn’t miss. It smashed into the man’s forehead with a sickening crunch, and tissue and bone gave way to the heavy steel. The guard dropped into a crumpled heap and the prisoner looked around him. It was clear, and the seeker was heading away from him. The guard was dead, beyond help. He had no time to say any words for the man’s soul, so that would have to come later. In the meantime, he had to keep going, had to escape. Had to get the word out, or they were doomed, all of them. They had to know that he was alive. Xerxes Tell, President of the Nine Systems.

System Standard 2734.1628 Tulum City Spaceport, Planet Hesperia

They touched down on Hesperia and walked down the ramp at Tulum spaceport. Constantine Blas could sense the unease in his partner, Evelyn Gluck, as they looked around at the devastation. Little had changed. Hesperia had suffered some of the fiercest fighting during the Axian war and this spaceport still bore the scars. It was as if there was no inclination to repair the cracked roadways and damaged buildings. Some of them were still repaired with instaplast. It was a good material for a temporary fix, strong and durable. But it did nothing to hide the battle scars behind those repairs. Maybe there was no money available to the local Planetary Council. Hesperia had little strategic value to the government of the Nine Systems, and it was way down the list when it came to priorities for war damage repairs. Even so, five years was a long time. There was no sign that the work had even started, there were no piles of construction materials or machinery. It was as if the spaceport, maybe the whole planet, had been abandoned.

“Papers!”

The military officer held out his hand. He looked ominous in the new black uniform of the Security Bureau troops that had been deployed on most planets. The old immigration officials had been swept away following government paranoia over the rebellions and food riots breaking out everywhere. Security Bureau troopers now held all positions of civilian authority. Not for the first time, Blas felt a pang of unease when confronted by the soldiers of the new alliance created after the Second War of the Systems. Many people had greeted the new government enthusiastically, wasn’t it a combination of the best of everything? But not all were so enthusiastic. Blas believed the old saying. ‘If you throw manure into a bed of roses, it still stinks’. So far, everything they’d seen bore out that old maxim. The Security Bureau stank as much as the new government alliance. But it was all they had, so they had to live with it.

“These papers haven’t been properly stamped. Where did your flight originate?”

The officer was no more than twenty years of age, no doubt fresh out of the academy, keen to show off his new power and authority. His pallid skin still bore the heavy scars of acne, and his eyes were weak and watery. The effect was in stark contrast to the ominous, dark uniform, festooned with belts, buckles and badges. This was no fighting man.

“Axis Nova, officer, it says so on the documents.”

Can’t you read, you moron? Blas wanted to ask him. The guy was doing his best to be awkward and irritating. And succeeding.

“Yes, but part of the emigration visa hasn’t been filled in, the stamp is not clear. What business do you have here on Hesperia?”

“We’re visiting a friend, we...”

He was interrupted by a shout. In a nearby immigration queue, a man shouted, “No, you can’t take those! They belong to my family,” before he started to run. The officer looked up.

“Get him. Stop that bastard! If he won’t stop, shoot him.”

Ten Security Bureau troopers guarded the immigration queues. Only the officer and an older sergeant didn’t draw their weapons. The rest snatched out laser pistols, so there was no time to order them to hold their fire. Six of the men fired, almost in unison, and the body of the fugitive disintegrated when it was hit by the concentrated laser fire. Two of the other men hesitated and one shouted, too late, “Security Bureau, stop!” But he shouted at a dead man. The officer walked over to inspect the victim; there would be no need for a medic. They stared at a pile of broken, burned body parts lying in a crumpled heap on the ground. While they were diverted, Blas took the opportunity to look at the man’s case. The security men had opened it and were trying to confiscate three exquisite, antique, hand-carved figurines. They depicted the three aspects of life, planet, sun and moon. Carved by the famous sculptor, Wang, they were very valuable, but harmless. The officer came up behind Blas, took him by the arm and pulled him roughly away.

“You can’t touch those. They’ve been confiscated by the Security Bureau.”

Blas stared him down. On his previous command, a Heavy Battlecruiser, this man would have been lucky to hold down a job swabbing the floors.

“You know very well that I wasn’t touching them. I looked to see why you murdered a man for having three perfectly innocent sculptures in his baggage.”

The man looked at him with loathing. “Are you some kind of a troublemaker? What’s it to you? This is Security Bureau business, Mr....” he rechecked Blas’ papers. “Mr. Blas. Were you traveling with this man?”

Blas gave himself a moment to control his anger. “You know that I was not traveling with him. I’m concerned that an innocent man has just been murdered in front of me for no reason.”

“How do you know he’s innocent?”

“Well, if he isn’t, what did he do? Why did you shoot him?”

The officer looked around for inspiration. They all knew very well what had happened. It was quite common on Hesperia and many of the other occupied planets. A straightforward racket, stealing valuable antiquities. Hesperia, home to so many ancient artifacts, was a posting that men regarded as a license to thieve. The pilfering was successful enough for most to go to their next posting or retire with a healthy bank balance, and some were even reputed to have become wealthy through the theft of antiques. Confiscating valuables and family heirlooms from immigrants was all part of the scam. After all, why not? These people should be made to pay for the protection the Security Bureau gave them.

“Whatever he did is confidential. Either you move on and go about your business, or I’ll arrest you.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds, but Evelyn dragged him away.

“Constantine, we’ll miss our connection. Please, leave it alone. There’s nothing to be gained here.”

“There you are,” the officer sneered. “Listen to what the little lady tells you and run along after her.”

Evelyn gave him a vicious stare and he fell to his knees, screaming and holding his head in agony. She called over to his men. “I think your officer has a serious headache, possibly a migraine. Perhaps he needs a doctor.”

They carried him away and Blas and Evelyn took the opportunity to leave the terminal.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, smiling at her to contradict his admonition. “If they find out you’re an Orphexian, they could charge you with assault for using your mental powers.”

She shrugged and smiled. “There's nothing to worry about. After all, I left him thinking he has a serious brain tumor. He’ll be too busy running around the hospitals getting his head scanned to worry about me.”

They found the ground transport waiting for them outside the main doors. It was an official naval vehicle, and the driver took them into the city of Tulum. He stopped at a large house next to the Naval Administration Headquarters. The door opened and Quentin Rusal, Admiral of the Fleet, Military Commander on Hesperia, smiled a greeting. He shook hands with Blas and kissed Evelyn. Blas thought his former commanding officer looked older and even more stressed than before. He was short in stature, just as he remembered, with the tinted skin characteristic of his home planet Arezza. Rusal had piercing green eyes that could change from mild amusement to diamond-hard strength in a millisecond. He was quite bald, with a compact body that was still hard and well muscled. All that he lacked was some of the fire that had led thousands of men through countless wars in every part of the System. He had a reputation as a leader who’d never lost a single battle.

After they’d been shown to their room and showered and changed, they joined the Admiral for drinks. Blas described what had happened at the spaceport. Rusal sighed.

“I’m afraid it’s happening more and more. That’s nothing compared to what some of the Security Bureau troopers are up to on the planet. They see Hesperia as a hunting ground for loot. Even worse, they view the Hesperian natives as sub-human, so they murder and rape whenever the mood takes them. Theft is endemic and the whole planet has taken to hiding their valuables whenever they see an SB uniform approaching. Most of them realize the difference between Security Bureau and the Navy, but even so, it can be uncomfortable wearing any military uniform these days.”

“Can’t the planetary governor mandate for the senior naval personnel to keep the Security Bureau in check?” Evelyn asked.

Rusal nodded. “A good question. The answer is that technically he can, yes, we are senior to them. But in practice, he would be loathe to do that.”

“Why is that, Admiral?” Blas asked him.

“Because he runs the risk of a mutiny, the Navy hates the Security Bureau as much as the natives do. If he calls them out it could result in all out war, he’d have no choice but to arrest my people. It would be an impossible situation.”

It was hard to believe what had happened to Hesperia. It was formerly a beautiful planet steeped in history, a cultural destination popular across the whole of the Nine Systems. They’d even come here at Rusal’s request to take a holiday. “Why not visit me here on Hesperia, take some leisure time?” he’d asked them in a hyperwave message. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now Blas wasn’t so sure.

“Where’s Berg Smetana? We expected to meet him to be with you. Or is he up to some mischief, I can’t imagine that he’s taking all of this lying down.”

Smetana, a native Hesperian, was a legend across the Systems. The tough, grizzled veteran used his skills as a master assassin and natural leader of men to champion the cause of the Republic during the last war. When hostilities ended, the war hero had returned to Hesperia, his home planet, and retired from the military.

“He isn’t taking anything lying down. Berg came out of retirement and joined the Hesperian resistance movement, but now he’s on the run. The SB is hunting him down right now. He even has a system-wide APB out on him.”

They looked at each other in astonishment. Berg, a hunted criminal!

“Admiral, you didn’t invite us here for a holiday, did you?” Evelyn asked. “We had no idea things were as serious as this.”

Quentin Rusal looked at his two friends. Blas, the Senior Captain who had helped win the brutal war against the Axians. Constantine was as much at home on the bridge of a Heavy Battlecruiser as when he commanded small squads of irregulars fighting behind the lines. Six feet tall, tough and wiry, he had an impressive record as a hard fighting man. Like most natives of Corazon, his home planet, he had brown eyes and pale, ivory skin. He bore a small scar over his left eye, probably the result of one of his many battles. His partner, Evelyn Gluck was even more impressive. She was also tall, perhaps five feet eight inches tall, but in her case she was willowy and regal. Yet her real strengths were hidden. Her father had been the Axian dictator, Merca Gluck. Her mother had been from Orphex, and she had inherited everything from the mother, nothing from the father.

The Orphexian princess possessed the extraordinary ability to both read and control minds. In the whole of the Nine Systems, Rusal counted Blas and Evelyn as part of small number of people who he could trust absolutely with his life. He could count the total of those people on the fingers of one hand. Another was Berg Smetana, the tough, crafty, Hesperian assassin. It was time to level with them. He needed these people, needed them desperately.

“You’re very perceptive, Evelyn. No, I didn’t ask you here for a holiday, and I apologize for my deception. I want you to think about joining us.”

Her eyes widened, and Blas laughed openly. “Surely the Navy isn’t that desperate for recruits?”

Rusal shook his head. “I’m not referring to the Navy, my friend. I expect to be relieved of my command at any time. It’s the resistance I’m talking about.”

They both glanced at him in astonishment. When he saw that his two friends were so mystified, he hurried to explain.

“You know how hard we fought for the Republic to beat the Axian religious fanatics. We inflicted a massive defeat on them, but now it’s all gone wrong. This regime is not what we fought for. It’s even led by an Axian, Fabian Bartok, ever since the death of our good friend Xerxes Tell. I find it difficult to believe we fought for freedom and democracy, yet now the enemy rules us. They’re back in power without even firing a shot.”