Page 78 of Broken Triad

Krazak expertly pilots the Reaver at half-speed, taking a beeline with no jerky movements over the flagship where the prince commands. It is a behemoth of a ship, bristling with guns and las-cannons. Sentry turrets scan the darks skies, glossing over our Reaver as if we have divine protection.

We are marked by the Prince’s seal. We are given safe passage, until we are out of this sector, and then we will be like any other. The Aurelian Empire would hunt us down and kill us for the brands on our chests and foreheads, the Fanatics for our betrayal of those same brands that we swore an oath to.

I sit heavily in my seat, but keep my hands off the targeting arrays. I will not give them any excuse to cut us down. Every Aurelian manning those turrets can see the black paint of our ship, and they are slavering for a confirmed kill on a Fanatic Reaver. Green Aurelians, lifted out of Academy before they had even finished their hundred years and sent to the front line are watching us, begging us to try something so they have the excuse to pull the trigger.

Prince Bruton will let us out, but then our lives will be that of prey, harried at every turn.

I don’t care. I will find some silent spot in this vast universe. None of this matters. The endless wars and strife will melt away when I hold my son in my arms. I can almost feel him, the warmth of the babe against my skin, all of this war and despair so meaningless compared to his life. I yearn for it, so near, so far. Somewhere far away there will be a quiet spot in this vast universe, one that we can call home…

If we can get there.

“Khra. Report on the stocks of the ship.”

My mind works, grateful to have something to focus on. “This was a one-way ticket. The water recycler is functioning, but the ship has no food. The replicator will have been emptied of organic matter.”

We coast a hundred feet above the grey armor of the flag-ship. It is like an elephant, thick and rugged, stretching in front of us. The sheer size of the ancient ship is something to behold. It makes the Matador look like a child’s toy. This ship has not seen combat since the Galatic war, and it is the second largest ship in the Aurelian fleet. It is only one of three, the other two looming like castles of steel, and past them is the promise of safety in the stars.

With one touch of the controls, Prince Bruton can rain down hellfire that would wipe the most populated cities of Elsinor out. He could blast down nuclear warheads that would reduce the fertile planet to a land of ice and snow, a great winter that would last centuries, stamping out all lives.

The only ship more deadly are the great Planet-Killers, the ships that were outlawed by a peace treaty so many thousands of years ago, the ships which can obliterate a planet completely, removing it from existence.

“He has three of these flag-ships under his control,” snarls Bolden, standing up from his post and walking to the thick glass of the viewport. He stares out, past the ship, and to the other two which dominate our view.

“He does. With hanger bays filled with Reavers. He won’t need to destroy Elsinor. He can take it by force.”

Bolden turns, facing me, eyes wild. The green rage is burning up in him. “That man will not spare the planet. He is going to turn Elsinor into a barren asteroid. He will melt the cities, to make an example of them.”

I flinch. Gnawing unease fills me. “You think the weight of a billion souls will be on our backs?” I had believed Bruton. I had seen truth in his eyes.

“He will massacre them. I’ll take the weight of those billions souls on my back, as long as I do not have her death on my conscience.” He points to the medical bay, and his lips curl back, showing his teeth. He looks like a wild animal. His muscles are bulging out impossibly, skin tight against his bulk, his veins filled with the venomous rage. Green red blood drips from his bicep where his muscles flexed so hard the skin split. He would damn ten billion souls if it would save her.

“No. If that was the case, he would have killed us already. He is a man of his word.”

Bolden snarls. “Some things are sacred, even to a man like Bruton. He would not kill an Aurelian in the womb.”

Krazak’s aura flares up. “It is done.” His voice booms out, quieting us, and Bolden sits down heavily in his chair, leaning back, his hands eager to find something to do and finding nothing. “It is done, and now we must look to the future. Khra, give me your report. What happens now?”

I think through it, glancing down at the arrays of missiles on the flag-ship, waiting for one to pull itself away and hunt us down. “From the Aurelian Empire side, we will be like any other Fanatic, a dog with rabies to be put down. Bruton will explain this away somehow. We spoke only to him. He cleared the room. So he will say that we were a captured ship, and that we braved the Rift to get to safety as a last ditch chance to escape. His men will never know.”

“And Obsidian? General Ra’al? What do they know?”

“The speech was vague. The men who loaded us up with explosives might have known. I think…” I force my mind to work, to go above the animal terror, the tension of being so close to safety and not knowing if I can escape. “It’ll be shown as a failed mission. That is all. When we went through the Rift, we went dark. Full stealth. We opened localized communication only. To Ra’al and the Priests, we disappeared. But the Priests are cunning. They will suspect, and they will send men after us.”

Krazak is silent as he pilots us past the end of the flagship. I look back at the engines glowing blue as they power the massive ships towards Elsinor, and I silently pray for those souls.

“We will go to a space station. There, we will restock. And then we disappear. We find a planet with a small population and a great wilderness, a place where no one can find us. We need nothing else but her.” Krazak states the words with certainty that bolsters me as we pilot away from the Aurelian fleet.

32

KRAZAK

My belly gnaws with hunger. Six days without food, turning my stomach to a pit of bile as I pilot through the air-field and into the hanger bay of the neutral space station.

In the first days, we listened intently to the news. There is heavy fighting on Elsinor, but Bruton did not obliterate the planet itself. In the chaos of war, it is impossible to tell who is winning, conflicting news reports that we shut off. It matters not. Whether the black flag or the great sun of the Aurelian Empire flies on Elsinor, we will be gone like wraiths, far from the battles that plague this universe.

We will not wake her, to suffer hunger and stress. Not until we have a safe future for her to be reborn into.

I touch down in the packed space station, in between a mining ship and a small fighter bristling with weapons. “Bolden. Stay with her. If our auras go dark, you leave with her. Do not come looking for us. We will not be long.”

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