

Malaran

## Storm Champion: Book 0

# Chris Momb

Copyright © 2013-2016 Chris Momb

All Rights Reserved
Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Epilogue

 Call to War – Storm Champion: Book 1

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

#  Chapter 1

_The war does not go well. Beyond all expectations, beyond all precedent, the Umpala clans have maintained their unity and have relentlessly pushed inwards towards the Core Worlds. It has become clear that the Empire is in actual jeopardy, and the Emperor has tasked me with formulating contingency plans. I have begun compiling candidate planets to serve as refuge worlds for the Mega Oikogeneia, the Great Houses. For my own house, I have chosen the world known as Nuevo by its inhabitants. Though not a particularly hospitable planet, all but one continent being inhabitable due to poisonous insects, it does have some advantages. In particular, is the fact that the current small population of residents there recently colonized the planet with_ _the_ _express purpose of establishing a low-tech society, fleeing the industrial nightmare_ _of_ _the world of Valencia to establish a simpler, more pastoral life. This would serve us well in avoiding the Umpala's interest while we await the other contingency plans to bear fruit._

\- Archives of Lord Dakshu Pran Ashoka, High Chancellor of the Empire of Man (from 354 to 367 P.D.)

Word had come of a starship, the first in almost five hundred years. The first since the Fall of Man.

Armed retainers mounted upon _vispas_ , a type of giant wasp, the largest of Nuevo's giant flying insects, patrolled the sky around Princess Malaran Ashoka's shining citadel, a lone jewel among the vast purple grassland of the _Vastedad Morada_. Concerns of war, of the return of man's ancient enemy, rattled through the halls of the fortress.

The fortress, Citadel Buonarroti, had been constructed in a different age, crafted with both the superior technology and with the aesthetics of a time long past. Among many artistic touches, the energized battle-armor clad to many surfaces had been made golden and even ornate. The whole facility was a work of technology and of art.

And deep within, technology and a different kind of art worked their magic, manipulating the energies of the Void. To many, it _was_ magic.

At the console mounted into the middle of the black obsidian floor of the Oculus Veritatis chamber sat Malaran, an athletic young woman with jade green eyes, raven black hair, and light olive skin wearing the simple black outfit of an acolyte. She reached out with her mind trying to see the starship, trying to glimpse if the enemy had returned. A subtle hum vibrated through the chamber, through the polished floor and into her legs, while her eyes peered into the Void between stars and between atoms. Her optic nerves harmonized with the quantum lattice, the scaffolding of reality, surfing the entangled wave functions leading into space, forming an image in her mind's eye.

A dark vessel glides between the planets, coming inbound, coming to Nuevo.

"Human or Umpala," asked her gray-haired mentor, Prioress Kalima Maria Varma, her penetrating voice cracking through the near silent hum. Clad in a simple black hooded robe, the Calistite priestess stood nearby and monitored her student's progress. Malaran had risen to be an acolyte among the Order of Calista, but she always thought she sensed a hint of disapproval from Kalima lying there beneath the surface.

Substructures adorn and protrude from the main body of the craft. At the back, one giant nacelle houses the engine.

"Human," answered Malaran after pondering the design for a moment. An imperial warship, but it was hard to say how big it was without any kind scale to compare it with. If she had to guess, she would say an _Achilles_ -class battlecruiser.

Both excitement and disappointment struck her simultaneously. Like the rest of humanity, she dreaded the return of the Umpala. A part of her, though, after spending most of her twenty years learning to interact with the Void and drilling endlessly through battle _kata_ with staff and shield, hand and foot, did feel a slight twinge of regret. Another day would pass without putting this training to use, another day without walking in the footsteps of Calista.

Yet a human starship had exciting possibilities as well. The Umpala had destroyed virtually all the human starships and crushed much of the key technology required for star travel, burning the Core Worlds and forcing what was left of humanity to flee to a scattering of low-tech planets like Nuevo that became known as the Refuge Worlds. Perhaps one of the other Refuge Worlds had rebuilt their technology. Or perhaps even the Defiant Captains had returned, those of the legend that refused to abandon their starships after the evacuation of the Core Worlds and instead fled into deep space. The thought of traveling the stars like her ancestors thrilled Malaran. Perhaps a new age had come again to humanity.

"And you have not detected the pilot?" Kalima asked, on the verge of becoming an accusation, though her demeanor remained ever calm and steady.

Malaran concentrated further. The Calistites had designed this round, orb-like chamber with the various artifacts of ancient technology embedded into the polished white walls and ceiling to aid in focusing the energies of the Void. A certain coldness penetrated her bones here, while occasionally across her skin flickered and tingled an invisible energy, more than electric, a frenzied symphony of subatomic and cosmic forces. The Oculus Veritatis chamber here in Citadel Buonarroti was modeled after the ones found in the ancient starships, used to enhance the abilities of the _Sacerdotes Vacuum,_ the Priestesses of the Void, as they used Far-Sight, Fore-Sight, and True-Sight to navigate starships across the Void.

Outwardly, the Calistites appeared the same as the Priestesses, but the Order of Calista had in fact splintered away from the Sacerdotes Vacuum five hundred years ago. They continued the study of the Void, and to outsiders, they still represented themselves as the same old Priestesses, but the Order of Calista had abandoned the pacifism of the Priestesses and became warrior mystics, integrating combat arts into their training. Few on Nuevo realized what they had become, still thinking the Order of Calista as just another officially sanctioned order among the Sacerdotes like the Order of Caritas or the Order of Eva-Tau.

"No, Prioress," said Malaran, not detecting the pilot no matter how hard she tried. Kalima was using the arrival of the starship as a training exercise, refusing to tell Malaran what had been learned about the ship until Malaran discovered it on her own, and Malaran began to worry that she was failing because she was unable to detect the pilot. As part of her training, Malaran had on rare occasion touched minds with a Calistite in another chamber located somewhere else on the planet. The legend said that a fully trained member of the Order of Calista, a true _Sacrator_ , could actually touch minds and communicate across the stars with the aid of the Oculus chamber.

The pilot of this human starship would have to be Priestess or somebody well versed in the ways of the Void, and Malaran should have been able to detect her presence if not communicate. Malaran focused her mind, using the energies of the Oculus chamber to enhance Far-Sight, and tried to find the pilot before Kalima wrote her off as a failure.

"Maybe the pilot is just not that skilled in the ways of the Void," suggested Malaran. "Maybe their training has lagged on whatever planet they come from." Or perhaps instead of a Priestess, it was a Combat Navigator, somebody not that proficient with the Void but capable of piloting the ship through short transits. Or maybe even one of the rumored Coven, those that according to legend had rejected the Sacerdotes to pursue more nefarious ventures.

"Should I question the skill and training of the person who has quite evidently piloted a starship across the stars, or should I question the skill and training of a lowly acolyte whose accomplishments seem to be rather lacking in interstellar travel?" said Kalima.

"Point taken, Prioress," said Malaran a little sheepishly. Malaran did actually have some training as a starship pilot, but the lack of actual starships limited how far she could progress and tended to make it a lower priority than her other training. Piloting a starship across the Void used to be one of the primary skills of a Priestess, giving the Sacerdotes much status and power in ancient society, but the Order had different priorities on Nuevo, especially with the complete absence of starships.

"I will find the pilot," said Malaran as she focused her mind. One way or another.

The focus zooms in, through the hull of the starship and into the main body, panning, seeking the pilot. Companies of soldiers armed with energy rifles drill in the great bay that houses the daughter ships. Docked within are many attack ships and troop carriers. The view pans further, and then it stops upon finding one of the command centers. Men in uniform stand around a giant hologram of Nuevo watching simulations. Wargames. A tall man stands apart, and others defer to him. Zooming in, his face dominates the field of view, blue, eager eyes filled with anticipation.

In a blink, Malaran's sight returned to the chamber, and she gasped. "They prepare to wage war." She had assumed a human starship would be something to cheer.

"Are you sure of what you have seen?" said Kalima. "The Umpala are long gone, and there's nothing of great value here."

Malaran nodded and said, "Yes," recognizing that Kalima attempted to test her confidence more than anything else at the moment. "They come to wage war."

It was shocking, a part of her expecting a human starship to be saviors, not invaders, but she felt a tinge of excitement too. A chance to do something important. Being a princess had its advantages for sure, but being the fourth child and female doomed her to a life of boredom. She probably would have already been married off for political purposes had she not embraced the Calistites back when she was a child. In some ways, she had had no choice. The recurring dreams of Calista had begun when she was very young, and Father had encouraged her to explore their meaning. He even encouraged her to join the Order, though it had always been rather awkward for Malaran being both a princess and an aspiring Calistite, an odd intersection between House Ashoka and the Order of Calista.

As of late, though, she had begun to doubt her future with the Calistites. The more she glimpsed the _Sacrators_ and the _Sacrator Superiores_ , the Elders, the more they looked like bureaucrats and politicians, constantly bickering – bickering about who had higher rank, bickering about who would lead each priory, bickering about who would lead each collegium, bickering about which collegium didn't get enough respect, bickering about which priory didn't get enough resources, and on and on.

Even without the dreams, the story of Princess Calista would have resonated with Malaran very much -- ninth child of the Emperor of Man, destined to be little more than a footnote, much like Malaran. Then came Athene. While the Emperor and the rest of his family hid in their bunker, Calista joined the _Agema_ , the Emperor's elite guard and shock troops, in battle with the Umpala hordes, large gorilla-like creatures with short dark fur and scaly, round reptilian heads. She assembled with the Emperor's vaunted praetorian guard and wielded the dark energy of the Void to hack through the Umpala while the mighty Agema held formation around her and held off the Umpala. In the end, as the last few Agema fell, Calista had ripped open a fissure into the Void, erupting a great storm of tornadoes while the rupture that penetrated into orbit devoured much of the Umpala fleet. But not enough. Athene, home-world of the Emperor of Man, fell, and soon with it, the whole Empire.

Malaran knew the story well because she frequently saw it in her dreams. As far back as she could remember, every week or so, she would see the fall of Calista in her dreams. Father even enrolled her in a Calistite day school near his citadel in Bandarpor and encouraged her to learn more about Calista and about the new order of Priestesses that sprung up after news of her feats had spread.

Malaran had remained for some time rather enamored with following in Calista's footsteps, crashing against the enemies of man and striking down her foes with the energy of the Void, standing heroically against another downfall. But lately, she had begun to wonder whether there really was any point. Five hundred years since the Fall of Man, yet there had been nothing but petty little conflicts on Nuevo. Civil wars, internal strife, rebellions, and police actions. The older priestesses among the Order of Calista seemed more concerned with internal politics than with heroic struggles to defend humanity.

Malaran looked at Kalima, looked into her deep, penetrating eyes. The eyes of an Elder, of a Sacrator Superiore. "What have _you_ seen? Why are they here, and why do they plan for war?" It was impossible to tell how forthcoming Kalima would ever be, and Malaran figured it didn't hurt to ask.

"Your father has been alerted," said Kalima and pretty much left it at that.

Malaran hoped Father would be more forthcoming with what he learned, but she doubted it. He liked to plot and scheme as much as the Order did, and he kept all of his machinations close to the vest. It went with the job of being Lord of House Ashoka and High King of Nuevo.

It would be several days before the starship entered orbit, and Malaran wondered how well they would be able to defend themselves against a starship if they meant to wage war. Other than the series of ancient citadels scattered across the continent, Nuevo was a very low-technology world, not prepared to deal with imperial battlecruisers, even five-hundred-year-old ones. No one knew why House Medici had constructed the citadels on this relatively worthless planet long before the war with the Umpala, back during the age of the House Wars, but Baroness Valina Medici had been a mad genius, not only incorporating much artistic flair, like the golden battle plating, but also inventing and equipping the citadels with the vaunted Suppressor Field that supposedly protected the citadels against air strikes and missile strikes. But there were only thirteen citadels on the entire planet, and most like her own Citadel Buonarroti were out here on the desolate purple grassland of the Vastedad Morada.

As all these thoughts raced through her mind, starting to get somewhat excited at the idea of defending Nuevo against invaders, she noticed Kalima looking at her with one of her mysterious looks, attempting possibly to penetrate the mind and soul.

Malaran attempted to passively stare back, to wait Kalima out.

Finally, Kalima said, "You are so young."

Malaran frowned. "And spoiled?" Her position as both acolyte _and_ Princess had always been awkward, and she was sure there had been some resentment. Special accommodations had always been made for her. When she had turned fifteen and graduated from the Calistite day-school near Father's citadel in the capital of Bandarpor, Father made a special arrangement with the Order that established a Calistite priory here in part of one of the citadels.

Kalima's eyes continued to bore into her for a moment. "One might have said 'dumb' instead of spoiled," said the prioress with no change of expression.

Not exactly the reply she expected, Malaran bristled. She had been called worse, but Kalima caught her off guard. Especially since Malaran had worked so hard her entire life to be the best at everything she did, especially in her education, trying to be worthy of all the perks and privileges she received as being a princess.

A rare smile formed on Kalima's lips, and the slightest of shrugs stirred from her shoulders. "We have all been young and dumb."

"Yes, Prioress, but not all have been a young and dumb princess?" Malaran asked, trying to figure out where this was all going -- what lesson she was supposed to decipher.

"Princess Calista was three years younger than you are now when she fell at Athene," said Kalima. "And the Sacerdotes would call her much worse than dumb."

Malaran knew that the Sacerdotes, the Priestesses, tended to demonize Calista, once their greatest prodigy, for abandoning pacifism and rupturing the Void in battle, but she wasn't sure what that had to do with Kalima calling her dumb. She waited to see if the prioress would elaborate on this point. She still wasn't sure what Kalima was trying to say. Malaran had her suspicions that the Elders tried to seem wiser by acting all mysterious and mystical.

Instead, Kalima seemed to change the subject. "The Order of Calista have for five centuries prepared to be the defenders of humanity. To wage war against the Umpala when the time came. But within human affairs, we prefer more restraint. More subtlety."

Malaran tried to show no emotion, but the words troubled her. Restraint and subtlety. Though both the Order of Calista and House Ashoka often conspired to mutual benefit here on Nuevo, the Order had its own agenda and goals separate from House Ashoka.

"The Order has summoned me to Conclave," said the prioress.

The nearest Calistite sacratorium lay hundreds of miles away. The priory here at Citadel Buonarroti was an experiment, an Ashoka fortress, Malaran's _personal_ fortress, in fact, housing a Calistite priory in part of the facility. Malaran spent most of her time as a lowly acolyte in the priory dormitory, but in an awkward accommodation between House Ashoka and the Order of Calista, on occasion Malaran would venture to the other side of the citadel to perform various duties as Her Royal Highness, Princess Malaran Athena Marissa Alicia Ashoka.

Malaran nodded to Kalima. "Shall I accompany you?" Malaran often spent time functioning as one of Kalima's personal assistants, seemingly more frequently than the other acolytes. Malaran often wondered if it was because Kalima thought the pampered princess deserved extra time being somebody else's servant.

Kalima looked down and adjusted her robe, and then looked back into Malaran's eyes with another of her mysterious looks. "Should you?"

Malaran held back a sigh. This message she understood. The day had come. Choose one or the other -- the Order of Calista or House Ashoka. She thought she would have until the Day of Invocation, at least a year or two away, to make up her mind, but events apparently had brought this to a head.

Malaran stared back into Kalima's dark, mysterious eyes and pondered the situation. You could always tell a Sacrator Superiore from their eyes. Some said that a lifetime of using Sight, a lifetime of the energies of the Void surging through the optic nerves, transformed their eyes physically and made them more imposing. Looking into those eyes, Malaran wondered what Kalima was up to. Had Kalima intended to influence her one way or another? Or maybe just baffle her into making her own decision? Is that what all the talk about 'young and dumb' was about?

She took a deep breath as she pushed those thoughts aside and tried to focus on the real question. Was she ready to give herself over to the Order, to serve them for the rest of her life? To abandon House Ashoka, especially at the brink of war while Kalima hinted that the Calistites might choose a different path?

She had learned so much from the Calistites, but the older priestesses seemed like their lives revolved around internal politics. Had it been this way for five hundred years? Would this be her life if she joined them? A life of subtlety and restraint? She wanted a life of purpose. She was leery of the life of a princess because of the boredom and petty politics, but she had become increasingly concerned that being a Calistite wouldn't be any better. Either way, she had pretty much given up on having many real friends, so she wanted a life of purpose.

The big question was how did the starship change things? Could she just stand by and watch if Nuevo was attacked? But what if the attack never came and peace was made? Would it be better to be a princess or Calistite? Who would be more likely to travel the Void on that starship – a princess or a Calistite?

"Would you like more time?" Kalima finally asked.

"Yes," said Malaran with relief, thinking she might take a few days to ponder her fate. But then comprehension coalesced, understanding fully the question and answer. Recognizing the choice that she just made without realizing it at the moment.

Malaran smiled to her old mentor. "I suppose I am young and dumb."

Kalima smiled back briefly, though a somewhat sad smile, and then she strode toward the door. She paused for a moment, and then looked back to her former student. "The Sacrator Primus herself ordered Princess Calista to evacuate Athene before the Umpala arrived, but Calista disobeyed that order and remained to stand with her family."

Malaran saw some parallel in her own decision and wondered if she should be pleased that she was somewhat following in Calista's footsteps, choosing to stand with her family, but she still wasn't sure what Kalima was getting at. "Then my decision might be for the best after all?" wondered Malaran aloud.

Kalima paused for a moment, then responded, "In the end, Calista was still unable to save her family."

That was definitely not the reply that Malaran was expecting, and as she processed what Kalima had said, it chilled her. She couldn't help but wonder if Fore-Sight had somehow suggested to Kalima that her family would likely die. At the beginner and intermediate levels in the Order, Fore-Sight was primarily used for combat, to reveal the most likely actions that an opponent might do next in the next few moments. The Priestesses of old used it as they piloted starships, to avoid peril as they encountered the surging, erratic energies of the Void. But there was talk that the Elders, the Sacrator Superiores, could catch glimpses much further into the future. The Sacerdotes even had a collegium devoted to the study of Fore-Sight visions.

As Malaran pondered all this, Kalima continued. "The greatest prodigy in the history of the Sacerdotes, one with great talent and skill, abilities beyond any other, still was unable to save her family."

Malaran tried to fight back a sense of dread. "What have you seen?"

"Princess Malaran Ashoka," she said, "I hope you're ready for the storm that is to come." Then she walked out the door.

Fifteen years together, and she was gone just like that. And at the brink of war. And after all her foreboding statements about Malaran's family. Malaran didn't know what to think.

She did know though that the starship came to wage war against her home and her family, and she was going to do everything in her power to wage war back.

#  Chapter 2

I am not sure what troubled us more when we first detected the disturbance – the thought that the Umpala were capable of doing this thing, or the thought that one of our own had. Princess Calista had been our greatest prodigy, and now words cannot express how great our disappointment. So much talent, so much power, and yet so much desecration. In the far reaches of the Empire, our best and brightest felt the reverberations in the Void that day Calista defiled it.

\- Journals of Marcia XII, Sacrator Primus of the Sacerdotes Vacuum (359 to 373 P.D.), recorded on the refuge world of Mokupuni in 368 P.D (1 year after the Fall of Man.)

Malaran, Leela, and Disnu, all clad in camouflaged grasslands hunting attire of purple and black geometric patterns, lay perfectly still in the tall purple grass watching through binoculars as the lander set down.

It had been a strange time in the weeks since the starship arrived. Apparently, some negotiations were ongoing, and no open hostilities had broken out, but all the royal military forces were on high alert. Father and Mother had relocated to Citadel Donatello out on here the Vastedad Morada away from the population center of Bandarpor that surrounded Citadel Brunelleschi on the east coast. Nobody was telling Malaran what was going on, though. All her brothers were sent to secret locations, and Father had assigned her a detachment of troops and told her to go lose herself out in the wilderness for a while until things settled down. She didn't like being out of the loop, but she thought being "out on patrol" was better than being cooped up in her citadel waiting to see what happened next.

And somehow, out here on the desolate purple plain, she had stumbled upon a secret landing.

On both sides of the sleek dark vessel, the nacelles glowed a brilliant blue and rumbled with an otherworldly staccato vibration as the engines increased intensity to ensure a smooth touchdown. The moment the ship stopped moving, the large rear hatch slid open, and an all-terrain type ground-car shot out, heavily armored and three big treaded rubber tires on each side.

As Malaran held her breath and tried to absorb what was happening, wondering if maybe they should fire on the car, the landing ship took off, engines flaring and rumbling anew, lifting straight up for a couple of dozen yards before streaking off skyward at a steep angle.

"Probably recon or saboteurs," whispered Leela through the dark face flap that revealed only her brown eyes. Malaran's personal guardswoman since Malaran was fifteen years of age typed in a quick message on the databand around her wrist, alerting the rest of the troops assigned to Malaran. No direct confrontation had occurred in the couple of weeks since the starship arrived, but rumors had persisted of secret landings.

Out here on the Vastedad Morada, there was often nothing but purple grassland and buzzing insects as far as the eye could see in all directions. Along with ten of the thirteen ancient citadels, the vast purple interior of Nuevo's only inhabitable continent was actually dotted with a smattering of communities, a few agricultural areas, a few forests and hills here and there, a few oddities like a massive rock, and according to folklore even a few ghost ships that sailed the purple sea, but they were but blips on the desolate expanse that stretched almost six thousand miles east-to-west and almost three thousand miles north-to-south. Most people on Nuevo lived on the outer edges, closer to the oceans of water and away from the purple sea of grass, various towns and cities thrown together with a hodge-podge of building techniques from various eras of technology. Bandarpor on the east coast was the royal capital, while Puerto Juarez was the economic center of the west coast, an amalgam of not only building techniques but cultures. Nobles from Niyati, the original Ashoka home-world, openly intermingled with the _hildagos_ of the _colonistas_ , the very same hildagos who every generation or so decided to wage a rebellion against House Ashoka. There had originally been hope that the colonistas would welcome the refugees, share the conviction for a low-tech society that would avoid the Umpala's attention, but the hidalgos, the nobles and masters of the peasants, saw the Niyatians and other refugees as unwanted guests at best and as invaders at worst.

The tensions were primarily near the coasts, though. The Vastedad Morada was so huge that one could easily avoid another.

Apparently, just blind luck enabled Malaran and her party to spot a secret landing for themselves, though Malaran had been trying to peer in on the operations of the enemy using her powers of the Void. She had often trained to use Far-Sight outside the Oculus chamber, but her skill remained pretty sporadic. It wasn't the same as having all the technology of the Oculus chamber behind her, and here of late she frequently wondered what it was going to be like to never use the chamber again. At times her emotions would alternate between revelry and dismay at her separation from the Order. She even missed Kalima. Kalima could be a little harsh, but Malaran preferred that over the false flattery and false friendliness that royals often encountered. She had too many false friends when she was younger and kind of gave up making friends once she entered the priory. Her guardswoman, Leela, ended up becoming her best friend.

After watching the lander fly off, Malaran turned her attention back to the ground car and grabbed the amulet around her neck, one of the artifacts of ancient technology from before the Fall of Man, once a toy to make pets do tricks. Now she used it to summon the vispas. The mind control devices worked on a few of Nuevo's creatures, primarily exploited with the giant flying vispas and the great _torthugans_.

"We're going after that car," Malaran said, excited at a chance to finally get close to the enemy.

She thought she saw Leela's shoulders droop ever so slightly. Malaran knew Leela didn't particularly care for watching Malaran put herself in harm's way, especially considering her role as Malaran's personal bodyguard and surrogate big sister. It was tough for a princess to have genuine friends, but Leela had become her best friend.

The large winged insects, yellow and purple with huge compound eyes, flew up and settled down into their mounting position. Malaran sprung up and slid into the saddle affixed near the back of the thorax and slipped on the helmet and visor that hung there. She looked over at Leela and Disnu to make sure they were ready, and then the vispa shot skyward. An exhilarating rush shot through Malaran as the ground receded. She altered her course slightly and headed almost due east in pursuit of the ground car as the purple grass swept by below.

"Have everybody move into a surveillance pattern around the ground-car," said Malaran through the comm system mounted on the helmet. She hadn't decided what she was going to do, but she wanted to be ready for any possibility.

"Roger," came back the reply back from Leela. Again Malaran noted a certain lack of enthusiasm on Leela's part.

Father had told Malaran to lay low and incognito for a while. To stay away from the citadels. Apparently, he never considered the idea that Malaran would go hunting the enemy, so he didn't specifically authorize anybody in the detachment to override any of Malaran's orders. Like all of the king's children, Malaran was given rank as a military officer, but with her duties to the Order of Calista she had only had time to undergo very minimal officer training, just a week or two of training each year, unlike her brothers who all graduated from the Royal Military Academy. Leela and Basav, the detachment's commanding officer, were unsure of Malaran's official military status and unsure of their authority to countermand a member of the royal family, and Malaran soon found that if she acted like she was in command then everybody seemed to go along with it, though sometimes the enthusiasm was clearly lacking. Especially Leela, who used body language and whatever else at her disposal to let Malaran know she wasn't too thrilled with Malaran's decisions.

As they sped across the landscape, Malaran caught sight of the ground-car after several minutes, and then slowed down to maintain some distance and to rest the vispas. The vispas could fly all day at a cruising speed of around twenty miles per hour, but they could go as fast as eighty miles per hour for short bursts. The faster they went, though, the quicker they would fatigue and become useless.

The car still maintained its original heading, speeding through the tall purple grass on a fairly level plain. She figured maybe eight to ten men would fit inside, though the design did not seem that familiar. With the advent of disruptor fields long ago, mechanized ground forces had been generally abandoned from military doctrine long before the Umpala War. With the way the disruptor fields scrambled electronics and power systems, ground combat in ancient times had been reduced to infantry battles with pulse rifles, a specially designed energy discharge weapon that could work in the presence of disruptors. Disruptor fields could even cause a "spark" that would ignite chemical explosives. It didn't happen all the time, but often enough that nobody trusted chemical powered vehicles and weapons. Anti-disruptors had been invented at some point, but these fields were strongest in the air while disruptor fields were strongest near the ground. Aircraft benefited from this, but not ground forces.

Because of the low technology here on Nuevo, disruptor fields never really came into play. The main opposition forces to House Ashoka tended to be the colonistas, who rode on the backs of _caballos_ , genetically modified horses, and fired gunpowder firearms. The colonistas had settled on the planet before it had become a Refuge World, seeking a low-tech, pastoral life to begin with. House Ashoka, hoping to avoid notice from the Umpala, went a step further after they arrived and tightly controlled and even suppressed most of the technology, but they kept and utilized enough high-tech to maintain their dominance. The military utilized what mechanized ground vehicles were still available, but these tended to be civilian vehicles that had been modified for military use.

Pulling up a map on her helmet's Heads-Up Display, Malaran pondered why the car seemed to be headed directly towards Citadel Donatello – Father's current command center. She had herself traveled several hundred miles over the last week to keep relatively close to that citadel since Father and Mother and relocated there, Kalima's words about Calista not being able to save her family still fresh in her mind. She found it troubling that the car seemed to be headed directly towards her parents' current location.

"What do you think?" Malaran asked Leela. The car didn't seem to have any weaponry that would threaten a citadel. A citadel deployed a special kind of protective field that was even more advanced than a disruptor field.

A regular disruptor field, in addition to frying electronics and computers, would also dampen and distort the trajectories of fast moving projectiles. An artillery shell might skip across the surface of the disruptor field rather than be penetrating, or if it did penetrate, then it wouldn't fly straight and might explode early. And when it did explode, any shrapnel blasted out would also be damped down by the field. A disruptor field could significantly hamper artillery and kinetic weapons, but could not completely render them useless.

A suppressor field, however, _could_ render them useless. Invented by House Medici back when they constructed the citadels, a suppressor was supposedly a sort of protective energy dome that repelled energy blasts and completely drained the kinetic energy from incoming projectiles. A suppressor field could even turn around redirect the stolen energy back at the projectile and destroy it.

A suppressor field did have the same weakness to energy pulse weapons like disruptor fields did, but it had another distinct advantage over disruptor fields in that that a suppressor field did not fry electronics and computers or ignite flammable chemicals inside the field.

It was a stroke of genius that enabled Baroness Valina Medici of House Medici to invent the suppressor field, a feat that no one was ever able to duplicate, but it seemed to be a stroke madness that caused the Baroness only ever to deploy such formidable technology in the thirteen citadels scattered across a worthless planet. Nobody ever determined exactly why the Baroness never deployed the technology anywhere else. There was speculation that there was something unique about the internal energy fields of this planet that were somehow being tapped.

Whatever the reason, the citadels represented some of the most powerful defensive technology ever invented by the ancients, and it sure didn't seem like a single armored car would pose much of a threat.

"Maybe face-to-face negotiation," said Leela. "Or maybe a scientific probe to analyze the defenses of a citadel," Leela answered. "Should I notify Watch Command?"

"Not yet," Malaran said, not wanting to bring attention to her presence so close to a potential hot zone. Father might issue new, explicit commands to Malaran's troops, turning them more into jailers. Besides, the car couldn't be that much of a threat to a citadel. The suppressor field didn't reach all the way to the ground, but the outer walls of the citadel were covered in very thick, energized battle-armor plating. Whatever madness convinced House Medici to build the citadels on Nuevo so long ago also convinced them to ensure that their great works of art would not be easily damaged.

"Has anybody else reached position yet?" Malaran asked. Maybe they could just take the car out themselves if necessary, though as far as she knew nobody on either side had fired on one another yet.

"One patrol has a good angle on them, and should be on the other flank of the car in another fifteen minutes or so," said Leela. "The rest of our detachment is behind us, forming up as they come. Maybe another forty minutes to catch up, as long as the car maintains its current speed and direction."

Forty minutes might be too late. The car might reach Father's defense perimeter by then. Malaran tried to think of a plan.

The rest of her company carried standard pulse rifles while she wielded a battle staff and shield in the tradition of the Calistites, weapons modeled after those of the revered Agema, the praetorian guard that fell at Athene standing with Calista. The small elliptical shield was strapped to her left arm, leaving her hand free to hold the staff in a two-handed grip if necessary. When powered by the energy of the Void, the shield could deflect or weaken energy pulses fired from small arms, while her battle staff could be wielded as an energy pulse weapon. It had a distinct advantage over regular pulse rifles in that she didn't have to carry a thirty-pound power cell strapped to her back, and she didn't ever have to worry about running out of juice when firing pulses. The staff worked just as well as pulse rifles in the presence of disruptor fields and could potentially generate more powerful energy bursts.

She just didn't know enough about the car and what kind of protections it bore. But she didn't want the opportunity to slip away.

"We should alert Watch Command and let them handle it," said Leela. "They could divert an aircraft to monitor the car." The Crown had kept a few dozen flying craft of various sorts operational all these centuries.

"We can handle it," said Malaran. "Get ready to coordinate an attack with the other patrol as soon as they're in range. Just in case." Malaran still remembered what Far-Sight revealed that day in the Oculus chamber – the wargames, the preparations, the tall man eager for war and conquest.

Malaran thought she heard Leela sigh, and she couldn't help but smile. It did feel good to have someone so devoted to her, yet not willing to smother her.

"What if this had been all arranged ahead of time?" said Leela. "What if this is some kind of peace envoy?"

That thought had been nagging Malaran a little, but it just didn't feel right. They had been out of the loop since they left the citadel, but that day in the Oculus chamber, she had seen the truth. She had seen their leader's eyes, seen his wargames. The starship came here for something more than making peace. And Kalima would not have spoken those ominous words about not being able to save her family if the starship had come to make peace.

"It's not a peace envoy," said Malaran. "It's the enemy." She had prepared for this moment her whole life, to follow in the footsteps of Calista and battle the enemies of man. It wasn't the Umpala, but it was somebody wanting to wage war on her family and her home.

Malaran directed the vispas to speed up and descend to just several feet or so above the purple landscape that streaked by below them. Leela didn't say another word for several minutes, and Malaran would glance over occasionally as the wind blasted past, attempting to read her demeanor.

The other patrol reached position out on the opposite flank and maintained their distance as everybody raced east. Streaking over the grassland towards Father's citadel, Malaran knew she would have to decide upon an action soon unless the car changed direction.

"Patrol car! Patrol car" shouted one of the troopers from the other patrol over the comm system.

It must be one of Father's outer defense patrols out here beyond the main perimeter of the citadel - a solar powered car with pulse cannon rigged on. "Are they engaging?" Malaran shouted back.

"Negative!" came back the reply. "I don't think they see it yet."

Malaran sighed. It has just been a few weeks of waiting, and apparently the patrols were already getting lax.

Before she could decide what to do, a small turret rose up from the top of the enemy car, and blue lights streaked out towards the east.

"Patrol car taking fire!" said the other trooper. A small explosion sounded, and smoke began to rise from where the patrol car had been.

Malaran adjusted her comm frequency to include everybody in both patrols. "Spread out and prepare to engage! We'll hit them from all directions!" It had attacked the defense patrol with no provocation. It was definitely the enemy.

"Roger!" came the reply from Leela and the other troopers.

Malaran readied her energy staff and shield, concentrating on opening a small pinprick into the Void, tapping its energy to power up her staff and shield. She had trained most of life to fight like a Calistite, and she saw no point trying to change that now.

"How's the Patrol car?" Malaran said.

"On fire."

Then it was up to her. Malaran took a deep breath as her vispa assumed a vector heading straight behind the car. Leela drifted off a little to the right, but stayed close, still in bodyguard mode.

Taking aim at one of the back tires, Malaran said, "Fire!"

A midnight-blue pulse of energy shot from her energy staff. Like the Agema weapons of old that it had been modeled after, her staff drew upon the energy of the Void. Bright blue pulses streaked in as well, from Leela's and the others' pulse rifles. Even with the wind as they rushed forward, she could still hear the muffled whine of energy discharge from Leela's rifle.

After several shots, Malaran noticed that some energy field seemed to be protecting the car. The battle cruiser in orbit appeared to be the same design from five hundred years ago, but these energy shields on the ground-car did not. The pulse rifle had become the standard small arm so long ago because disruptor fields could not interfere with its operation and because its energy blast could penetrate any type of energy shield that had been invented at the time. But now, only her dark energy blasts from her staff seemed to be penetrating the shields, and so far, only causing minor damage. She needed to get closer.

Blue lights streaked out from the car towards the other patrol.

"Ahhh!" shouted one of the troopers over the comm channel, followed by crashing noises.

"Janah is down!" shouted one of the troopers as the turret began turning again. "Moving to --" began the trooper, but was cut off as the turret fired again.

"Go lower!" Malaran shouted as the turret began turning again. The turret was proving too accurate, cutting her troops apart. It must have some kind of computerized target assist. The higher technology was proving dominant.

The turret fired another blue pulse, and from its target, another blue pulse shot skyward. Malaran thought it looked like a ricochet but then realized what had happened. The turret had hit another trooper just as he fired. Three shots and three troopers down, while none of their shots seemed to be doing much. This was suicide.

"To the ground!" Malaran shouted. "Land and roll!"

As her vispa braked hard to land, she heard Disnu scream in the comm system. Just she and Leela remained.

"Bail! Bail!" she shouted flinging herself from the still moving vispa. She hit hard and felt her breath leave her, but she still forced herself to roll. In one turn of her roll, she saw Leela's vispa puff open in a cloud of yellow and purple chitin as a blue pulse streaked through its thorax. The next moment a blue pulse caught the side of her own vispa's head, causing the wounded creature to writhe about on the ground and beat its wings, becoming airborne for brief instants.

"Leela!" Malaran shouted as she hugged the ground, her pounding heart seeming to shake the entire world.

"I'm okay," Leela shouted back.

Relief flooded over Malaran briefly, but it could not compete with the dismay at losing four of her men in less than twenty seconds. Another second and she would have lost Leela too.

She quickly peeked up through the grass, ready to hug the ground again, but there was no point. The car hadn't turned to come back and finish them. It continued to speed off in the same direction it had been going. Swatted the gnats and kept going.

"Anybody else?" she shouted over the comm. "Check, check!"

Nobody else answered.

Malaran stood up and pulled out her binoculars, trying to get a fix on the men who went down. Some might just be wounded.

Leela sprung up next to her, and Malaran noticed that she seemed to be favoring one of her legs.

As Malaran surveyed the terrain looking for her downed men, she realized that in the excitement of the pursuit she had come closer to Father's citadel than she had originally anticipated. She caught sight of the citadel's golden towers standing above the purple plain.

"Warn them. Warn Watch Command," said Malaran to Leela. The car was dangerous, but she still couldn't see it being much of a threat to a citadel.

She decided to take a better look at the car and try and figure out what it was doing. She closed her eyes and tried to peer into the Void, letting the energies surge through her body. She focused her mind, her optic nerves synchronizing with the quantum lattice and the various harmonics of the Void.

From high and behind, the vision centers on the car speeding and occasionally bounding along directly towards the citadel. Zooming in close, and then focusing through the roof and into the interior of the car, ancient tech is everywhere. A large metal drum-like structure demands attention. The image zooms in the on ancient emblems scribed on its surface, familiar because the same kind of weapons had been used against the Umpala. A nuke.

Malaran opened her eyes and shouted, "To the ground!" as she tackled Leela. "Nuke!"

The enemy had sent the car, and the nuke, in beneath the suppressor field. With a battlecruiser in orbit, everybody was watching the skies. The use of a nuclear weapon against fellow humans was unthinkable. It had been taboo for over a thousand years, long before the Second Dispersion and perhaps even before the First Dispersion.

Kalima's words about Calista not being able to save her family rang through Malaran's head as dismay flooded over her.

As they laid there in the grass looking in the direction the car went, Leela yelled into her comm, arguing with a skeptical officer at Watch Command about a nuclear warhead speeding towards the king's citadel in a deadly ground-car protected with some kind of energy field. It all probably sounded crazy -- "My friend used her special powers to look through the armored plating of a speeding car and spotted a weapon that had been taboo for millennia." Malaran wished that she still her royal comm unit so that she could just contact Father directly, but his security people had worried about how advanced the technology might be on the starship. The invaders might have been able to intercept and even trace communications, so they had taken away her royal comm unit.

As Malaran's panic and frustration surged, the energies of the Void seemed to surge too. As she tried to invoke Far-Sight again, suddenly a blast of Fore-Sight thrust forward in her mind, ghostly phantom images revealing the more likely futures. All the phantom images included mushroom clouds.

Mother and Father. There was nothing she could now do to stop the car before it got there.

Leela's warning to Watch Command might have a chance, but Fore-Sight seemed to indicate a low probability. They just wouldn't believe the car carried a nuke and wouldn't see it as much of a threat. They will fire upon the car, but not overwhelmingly. It will take time to realize how effective the energy shield is and how much firepower is needed to punch through, and by then it will be too late.

There was just nothing Malaran could do to save them.

If she had alerted Watch Command earlier, then there would have been time for them to realize they needed some serious firepower to take out the car's shields.

If she had just not been so eager to handle the car herself. If she had just not been so stupid. So dumb.

"Damnit!" yelled Leela into her comm. "The car has a nuke. Hit it with everything you got!"

Malaran looked over at Leela, her only real friend the last few years since she came to Citadel Buonarroti and joined the priory, and realized that they were probably too close too. If not the fireball, the shockwave would kill her and Leela.

Not only would she be unable to save her Mother and Father, but she would also be unable to save her only friend as well. Kalima's words rang through her head again -- even Calista couldn't save her family in the end.

But at least Calista inflicted some serious damage on the Umpala in return. She ripped open a fissure in the Void that swallowed much of the Umpala fleet, ripping them out of normal space-time. Malaran would be able to do nothing but sit here and watch everybody die.

And in Malaran's panic and despair, a crazy thought came to her.

As surges of both Fore-Sight and Far-Sight blossomed in her head, colliding visions of the nuke currently streaking towards Father and the phantom images of the future brilliant blast erupting, the current reality coalescing into the future possibility, she opened another small, virtual pinhole into the Void, the way she had been trained to tap the energy of the Void.

The energy still surged forward into her from the syphon she had opened before, and now she used it to control the second pinhole she had opened. Instead of siphoning the power of the Void through this one, she forced the pinhole into a small bubble as the virtual clock counted down as the visions in her head coalesced together towards one moment, Far-Sight showing what was happening, Fore-Sight revealing what was likely about to come.

_Several blue pulses of energy and several artillery shells streak from the citadel. Explosions erupts around the car as the artillery shells miss the target or are deflected by its protective field. The energy beams are severely weakened by the_ _car's_ _energy shield and only cause minor damage. A small missile streaks out from the citadel but explodes in mid-air as a blue beam from the_ _car's_ _turret slices into it._

She didn't warn Father in time. It was all her fault. A tear ran down her cheek as summoned up all that she had, all that she could be, to will the damn bubble of Void to surround and protect her and Leela, to separate them from the space-time of the nuclear bomb. They all couldn't die. She needed to save Leela.

As the Fore-Sight and Far-Sight visions harmonized into one, she watched the blast, the brilliance of a thousand suns, the great conflagration, and the awesome shock wave that shot out in all directions. She watched it sweep over her and Leela's position, sweeping away the bodies of dead vispas and fallen troopers and the burning wreck of the patrol car. But she and Leela remained, rooted in time and space, protected from the holocaust.

But not totally immune, the visions stills nauseating her. _T_ _he blast knocks in the walls as radiation rips through Father's flesh, through his cells and the RNA within, and then the conflagration bursts through the broken walls and incinerates the remains of his body._

She screamed, and in that instant, her vision, her senses, returned to the purple grass tickling her face, the musty smell of wild turf, and the sounds of Leela gasping for breath. Ash whipped by in the wind. The protective bubble was gone.

Malaran looked up at the mushroom cloud that towered up before her, filling her vision with a panorama of doom and despair. It was like reliving the Fall of Man, and she could only stand there and watch, so helpless and small.

More than a thousand years had passed since man had nuked man, the great taboo that had endured through the ages. Whoever did this was truly an enemy of mankind. And her despair turned to anger.

She would make them pay.

#  Chapter 3

_I had tired of the House Wars as it has become known, the constant conflict between the Mega Oikogeneia. It was draining our resources while the Umpala had begun raiding against us. In the end_ _,_ _it came down to supporting House Xander or House Rurik, and I threw my lot in with my old adversary Theramenes Xander. Though at times I have pondered whether this was the right decision, I have never truly regretted it. The Empire is necessary to stand against the Umpala._

\- Archives of Lord Dakshu Pran Ashoka, High Chancellor of the Empire of Man (from 354 to 367 P.D.)

Malaran and Leela sat next to the campfire, pondering the flame for a moment. The survivors of her detachment, those that had been too far away to take part in the strike on the ground car, stood watch in a circle about them, giving Malaran her space. Just over a day had passed since the catastrophe, and the shock had not yet worn off.

She didn't know if the shame and guilt would ever wear off. She led her men so quickly to their deaths, and her failure to warn Father's citadel might have cost her so much more.

But now something else demanded attention, denying her time to grieve and to think.

Malaran looked down at the datapad in her lap. Several hours earlier, the starship had begun broadcasting on all open bands. The video had relayed a message from a man with a hard face and eager blue eyes; the same man revealed earlier by Far-Sight. He had appeared draped in a ceremonial robe of dark blue and silver trim, the colors of the Emperor of Man.

Malaran advanced the video past the beginning, past his posturing and politicking. The talk of the reemergence of the Umpala. The talk of the sighting of other ships of unknown origin. And the talk of the rebirth of the Empire, with him as Emperor of Man, he who called himself Heracles Xander, a long lost cousin of House Xander.

Once was enough. To speak of glory and majesty of a new empire so shortly after nuking thousands of humans, that galled her enough the first time she had watched. To claim that he had come here to Nuevo to begin rebuilding the High Council, to bring Father on as chief advisor as Lord Dakshu Ashoka had served Emperor Theramenes Xander five hundred years ago, that she could not bear to watch again.

The message near the end of the video, however, she could not ignore so easily. Malaran took a deep breath and then activated the vid. Leela leaned closer and supported Malaran's shoulder with her own.

"There is one, however, among the Ashoka that I believe can restore this Great House to its former glory. A Priestess of the Void, one who rejected the pettiness of court politics and chose a much nobler path. One who I believe would make a wise and shrewd counselor. One who I am willing to commit to, to restore the ancient alliance between House Ashoka and House Xander to rebuild the Empire of Man." He paused dramatically. "One who I will marry if she will but have me."

Malaran had replayed this three times, and she still couldn't quite believe it.

The self-proclaimed emperor, the one who had just nuked thousands of humans, actually smiled.

"Princess Malaran Athena Marissa Alicia Ashoka, I ask for your hand in marriage. I propose that you join me as my Empress. Together we shall travel the stars and reinvigorate the Empire of Man, standing against the Umpala and the unknown, bringing glory and majesty once again to human civilization."

The children of kings always had arranged marriages, usually for political purposes, so she had always known that she would likely have little say in who she married. She would have had a little more say among the Calistites, but the Order would always have had the _final_ say on whether she could be married and to whom. She never had high expectations. But to travel the stars. To rebuild the Empire of Man. To rise again so that humanity could withstand the Umpala. She would have married this man not only dutifully but happily.

But now, to wed not only a madman but a monster. A monster who murdered Father and Mother. A monster that would use nukes against other humans. A monster that smiled while speaking of marrying the daughter of the man he just nuked.

Yet a monster who would keep nuking Nuevo, keep nuking her family until she relented.

Malaran slumped further against Leela's shoulder and sighed. How could she allow another holocaust? She would have to marry the monster.

#  Chapter 4

Word has come that one of the Core Worlds, Onogoroshima, has fallen to the Umpala. I had been assured by our best minds repeatedly that the Umpala clans would never maintain their unity, that we were looking at just another border war with the Umpala. Nothing to threaten the Empire. As High Chancellor, I personally had assured the Emperor of this. And now defeat is looking increasingly likely. The Emperor apparently has reached the same conclusion, today bringing forth yet another contingency plan, this one more personal in nature. While the High Council has been briefed concerning the rudimentary essentials of the Phoenix Initiative, only I know of the Emperor's other contingency.

\- Archives of Lord Dakshu Pran Ashoka, High Chancellor of the Empire of Man (from 354 to 367 P.D.)

The blue pulses of weapons fire drew Malaran forward. Her eldest brother, Aadi, now King Aadi, and his entourage were taking heavy fire.

Malaran and her troops, clad in silver and black camouflage, crept quickly through the dense forest of "trees." The thick silver branches and the heavy foliage of blue and gray seed pods provided many shadows to mask their movement. The musty smell of the grassland had been replaced with a slightly metallic odor, at times so strong that it could almost be tasted, like blood in the mouth. The trees were actually hyphae of a giant fungus-like structure, almost a mile wide buried a few feet beneath the ground. The Engineering Directorate had once experimented on this structure, manipulating the DNA and introducing various metallic compounds in hopes of creating a natural looking landmark that would hide the occupants from Umpala sensors. An alternative to the more predictable underground facilities.

In the air she felt something different. A tingle maybe. Something like the feel of static electricity, or perhaps a subtle vibration-like effect in the air. In the Void. A disruptor field. The secretive Engineering Directorate must have pulled a disruptor field generator out of storage. There would be no armored cars to contend with today, just infantry with pulse rifles

She had been delayed coming to this secret rendezvous with Aadi, and it appeared to have saved her from the ambush.

Aadi had urgently requested they meet before Malaran made any contact with this so-called Emperor. Before she committed herself. He claimed to have important information to consider and didn't want to discuss it over comm channels, not with the enemy's seeming command of technology.

As Malaran neared the rear flank of the enemy, blue pulses occasionally shifted the shadows, and the muffled whine of energy discharges shook the leaves. And then she came upon the enemy, facing away and firing at her brother's position.

Malaran raised her staff as she opened the pinprick into the Void, energizing her weapons. She looked around at the detachment, making sure everybody was ready. Their weapons raised as well; each member briefly met her eyes. All were ready.

Malaran focused her mind, trying to invoke Fore-Sight and True-Sight, hoping to use her training to her advantage, and then she fired. The midnight-blue pulse hit an enemy soldier in the middle of the back and scorched a deep, smoldering depression that maybe went all the way through. Before he could scream, the rest of Malaran's detachment opened fire, striking down several more.

Advancing rapidly, her heart pounding away in her ears, Malaran directed the onslaught forward. A storm of blue pulses swept the area before her as she pressed into the enemy's position.

Her long years of training came back to her, and as she advanced and fired, she found herself following the ancient battles forms, the kata, of the Agema, shield and staff performing in unison a dance of death, losing track of how many she struck down, brief bursts of True-Sight and Fore-Sight increasing her deadliness.

She pressed forward, faster and faster, trying to save her brother.

As she burst into a small clearing devoid of trunks or branches, she came face to face with an enemy. She looked at her reflection in his mirrored combat visor, but then for the first time, she noticed how the enemy was clad. Black and silver battle uniforms, not the forest camo-suites like Malaran and her detachment wore, but actual black and silver uniforms, the stripes and bands and patches all replicated perfectly, even the bulges from the embedded plastic armor plates, the standard combat attire of the Agema that had not been seen in five hundred years. They even bore shield and staff.

She was shocked for a brief moment. The Agema were revered among the Order of Calista. The Agema were defenders of Calista. Yet now they attempted to destroy her family.

As adrenaline surged through, all her training urging her into another battle form, she wondered how she could stand against the mighty Agema. The man was a head taller than her and much broader, and the shock faded quickly from his face as he stepped forward to perform a staff strike.

Her instincts took over as Malaran surged into an ancient battle form, the Scorpion Strike, spinning behind her shield thrust and bringing her staff up behind to backhand jab the enemy, connecting with his throat.

As the staff end dug into spongy flesh, Malaran fired the energy pulse. The enemy soldier's head popped off and spun as it fell to the ground, spraying a light coating of blood though most of the wound had been cauterized.

The wound at the base of the throat did not cauterize as well, and big spurts of blood gushed forth as the body collapsed.

She was shocked. One basic attack form and the mighty Agema lay dead before her. The moment seemed to catch up with Malaran, and she had to pause for a very brief second. Today she had killed for the first time, but not until this moment had she stood face to face and watched someone die from a few feet away. She felt the gravity of it, let it briefly take hold, but then came something else. Anger.

The bastard wore the uniform and weapons of the mighty Agema, the great heroes that stood with Calista at Athene, but the damn imposter knew nothing of their combat forms. He just wasn't that good at close combat. He surely was no elite warrior.

Then she saw the cable running from his staff to his back. To a power cell. The Agema, the true Agema, spent at least a decade or more learning to tap the Void and energize their battle staff without the need of a thirty-pound power cell clamped to their back. The Void technology, human Void technology anyway, just didn't work that well with males for some reason, and only a small portion of the male population could learn to energize a battle staff with the training starting in childhood and continuing for years and years. The Agema were almost always recruited from this select group. The dead man wearing the uniform of the Agema carried a staff, but he was an imposter like the false emperor that he served.

If they all were this bad at using staff and shield in close combat, she would smash them all down herself. She stormed forward right into the middle of them, all her years of close combat training, all her knowledge of Calistite and Agema fighting forms, staff and shield reaping death and destruction from but a few paces away.

After first contact with the Umpala, the Agema combat forms had evolved to deal with the bigger, stronger gorilla-like adversaries, and such forms served Malaran well as she smashed through the bigger, taller men posing as warriors.

Fore-Sight and True-Sight images blossomed in her mind, revealing the flow of the battle, the invaders now caught between two forces as her guard detail pushed forward to support her and Aadi's troops taking advantage of the enemy's dilemma and pushing forward as well. The invaders faltered as they faced enemies from all sides, and Malaran pressed forward to exploit their weakness, reveling in the personal combat. Her enemy, as inept as children with staff and shield in close combat, fell quickly to her graceful slaughter as True-Sight and Fore-Sight guided her hand. These were the people who had murdered her father and mother, the monsters who nuked fellow humans. She would make them all pay.

And then there were no more. Suddenly, she was standing in silence among the fallen bodies, no more monsters to slay. Leela came to stand next to her, speaking, but the words did not quite register. In fact, no sound registered at all. Malaran looked Leela in her concerned eyes, and then her mind abruptly thrust her into the moment. Leela's voice and all the post-battle sounds erupted in her ears, jolting her briefly.

"Are you okay?" Leela asked.

Her troopers stood in a general protective pattern around them, glancing back with concern, or something else, in their eyes. The bodies of the enemy littered the ground.

Malaran assumed Leela had been repeating the question for the last several moments.

"Yes," said Malaran, forcing a small smile to ease Leela's worry. "I'm fine."

Malaran quickly counted her contingent, and everybody seemed accounted for, though a few of the men wore bandages and one wore a sling. Some of Aadi's elite royal guard hovered around as well, while others inspected the fallen enemy. Malaran noticed a few Nagas in the mix of Aadi's forces, House Ashoka's elite commandos in their distinct black scale armor and the green headdress in serpent-head motif.

Leela nodded, the tension easing out of her shoulders, but then she frowned. "You should've held formation. We could've mopped them up without resorting to close combat."

Malaran couldn't help but smile as she recalled the revelry she had experienced. "I simply saw an advantage and exploited it."

"You kind of freaked out the men," whispered Leela with slight amusement in her voice and glancing over momentarily at Basav, the lieutenant, before looking back at Malaran. "None of them had ever seen you practice all that Calistite martial arts stuff."

Leela put her hand on her back and leaned in a little. "Hell, I watched you practice for five years and still wasn't sure all those dancing steps and fancy moves would amount to much in a real fight."

Just then Aadi and his entourage of personal guards came forward. The guardsmen's hard eyes darted glances around the perimeter. Ragged looking from patches and bandages, Malaran could tell they had come close to failing, a desperate last stand fighting hand-to-hand. Another king almost fell, another family member almost fell.

Aadi himself showed little emotion. He had been groomed to be king for over forty years. Dressed in a standard officer's uniform in the House Ashoka's colors of green and black, his only royal insignia were the bejeweled emblems of serpent and sword attached to his collar. But like Father, he had the bearing of a king, only the softer eyes he got from Mother distinguished him from a younger version of Father.

"May we have a moment?" he asked, and his guardsmen spread out into a protective perimeter. Leela patted Malaran on the back and then stepped away to join the other troopers.

"Air transport is inbound," said Aadi, foregoing any brotherly affection. "We will relocate immediately." He stepped closer to Malaran and whispered, "I may have a spy on my staff. The electromagnetic effects of this forest should have thwarted any superior technology the enemy might have. Should have prevented them from discovering our rendezvous."

"Maybe the starship's pilot is better adept at Far-Sight than we thought," Malaran said.

"Maybe," said Aadi, but Malaran knew he didn't care to think about such mystical things, likening much of it to mumbo-jumbo.

"The point being," he continued, "that my demise may be imminent. I must inform you about certain matters before this happens."

"What kind of matters?" Malaran asked. He acted like this information was pretty important.

"You must not under any circumstance marry this imposter."

It kind of surprised her. She thought he would have grasped at this solution for preventing more nuclear strikes. "The monster must be appeased, or he'll keeping firing nukes," said Malaran.

"You cannot," Aadi said. "We believe that he knows the family secret."

"What secret might that be?" She didn't even know there was a family secret.

"It involves the Anax-Hema."

"The what?"

"The Emperor of Man, with the consent of the High Council, declared a specific genetic marker unique to his immediate family to be a requirement to rule the Empire. It formally established House Xander as the Imperial House. The Mega Oikogeneia _,_ the Great Houses _,_ had tired of the House Wars, especially with new alien threats looming."

Her mind raced but still couldn't figure out what something from the history books had to do with anything. "What are you talking about?"

"The Anax-Hema was a symbol of the Emperor's power. A symbol necessary to validate anybody who tried to claim the Empire. But more than that, it was a _key_ to power. A key to open certain databases and technologies. A key to many secrets."

Malaran vaguely remembered reading about the Anax-Hema, but at the time it all just seemed to be a bunch of pomp and circumstance mixed with touches of divine right. "But what does something from the history books have to do with anything going on right now?"

Aadi, glanced around, as though making sure nobody else listened in. "The Emperor developed a contingency plan to preserve his dynasty, to preserve the Anax-Hema." Leaning in close, he whispered, "The Emperor had preserved a collection of zygotes, fertilized eggs, so that surrogates could bear him more children at a later date. So he could make a glorious last stand at Athene and still be assured that his dynasty remained. The Emperor gave these to Lord Dakshu Ashoka, who brought them to Nuevo during the exodus."

That was interesting, but Malaran frowned. "So are they still in storage after all these years? Are they still viable?"

"Nobody knew how long they would remain viable, so the decision was made soon after the arrival on Nuevo to birth a female child that would eventually marry the heir to House Ashoka. The hope was to blend our bloodlines and to preserve the Anax-Hema for future contingencies."

Malaran pondered that for a moment. One of her ancestors was sister to Calista. That was somewhat exciting to know that some of the same blood that ran through Calista ran through her, but it had been so long. "Wouldn't the genetic markers for the Anax-Hema get diluted and distorted over the centuries?"

"That was a distinct possibility, but there turned out to be an even bigger issue. The Ashoka bloodline tended to disrupt the genetic markers even in the first generation. It was rare that even a single child would receive the genetic marker intact enough to be identified as the Anax-Hema. Crossing these particular bloodlines just seemed to scramble the genetic markers too much, and it did not bode well for preserving the Anax-Hema. Not with Ashoka blood anyway."

"Then why does it matter?" said Malaran, trying to figure out where Aadi was going with all this. Ashoka and Xander bloodlines might have merged, but did it really matter five hundred years later that House Ashoka were the "true" heirs to the Empire, especially since the Anax-Hema no longer existed and the Empire itself no longer existed.

"There were multiple zygotes," said Aadi. "And as long as they proved viable, every couple of generations or so, a new child was birthed. A girl that would marry the Ashoka heir and become queen, or a boy that would eventually father a girl to marry the heir. There was hope that this fresh influx of Xander blood and frequently intermarrying would strengthen the Anax-Hema in the joint Ashoka and Xander bloodline."

Malaran's mind kind of stuck on the point about the heir's sisters being married off to Emperor's sons. She was Aadi's only sister. Her mind raced trying to figure out what this all had to do with the monster on the starship claiming to be a long-lost relative of House Xander and wanting to marry her. "How long did the zygotes last?" she asked finally.

Aadi sighed as he bent in close to whisper. "Mother was the last. The last child of the Emperor of Man."

Malaran was shocked. She didn't know what to think. It didn't seem possible after all these centuries. Even more startling, it meant that Mother technically had been the Emperor of Man. House Xander did not follow the archaic traditions that favored male children over female. The eldest child of whatever sex became Emperor. Mother technically became Emperor when she reached eighteen years old. And when she died...Malaran looked at Aadi. "Then that makes you the true heir to the Empire of Man."

"Perhaps," said Aadi. "But I do not bear the Anax-Hema."

The pit of Malaran's stomach felt heavy as her thoughts coalesced. She looked at Aadi. " _I_ bear the Anax-Hema?"

Aadi locked eyes with her and whispered, "Yes."

Malaran had to process that for a moment. Not only was the last reigning Emperor of Man her grandfather, not only was Calista her aunt, not only was her Mother and now her brother technically Emperor, but she also bore some special genetic marker that might be valuable to the invaders in the starship.

Then a stray thought struck her. "But Mother's eyes were green." Athenian nobles and House Xander tended to have blue eyes, the result of various genetic tinkerings to set the nobles apart from the common people. Niyatian nobles tended to have green or grey eyes, and even the hildagos, the nobles among the colonistas who arrived on Nuevo decades before the exodus, had dark blue eyes to set them further apart from the peasants they ruled over.

Aadi just waved it off. "We have lost a lot of scientific and technical knowledge, but changing eye color isn't too difficult."

Malaran nodded as she continued to process all this information about heritage. "So the monster that claims to be long lost relative to House Xander needs me to help validate his position as Emperor?"

"Yes, the bearer of the Anax-Hema, and a princess of House Ashoka and House Xander," he said.

Malaran frowned. "It just seems like a stretch to me. He has a battlecruiser. Some genetic marker thing from the history books doesn't seem like that big of a deal, especially since the Empire of Man is dust and anybody can rebuild whatever empire they want." Then the thought struck her. "Why didn't he just make a deal with Father if it is such a big deal to him?" Marrying daughters off for political purposes is what the Kings of Nuevo have done for ages. "Surely in all their secret negotiations a deal could have been reached that avoided nuclear catastrophe."

"Father did try. But it was complicated. Father suspected that the imposter somehow knew the secret, but it was difficult to determine what his true intents were. The imposter spoke of rebuilding the Empire and great alliances and that sort of thing, but the Empire cannot be rebuilt with a single battlecruiser. Father used the negotiations to try and figure out what the imposter was really up to, and either he got too close to the truth or the imposter is just insane and tired of the negotiations."

Malaran sighed. "The situation has not changed, though. Except that we know for sure that he is insane, willing to nuke other humans. Why should I not just marry him and avoid any more nuclear destruction?"

"There's just more at stake," said Aadi.

Malaran couldn't believe what she was hearing. A tinge of anger colored her voice. "He will sit safely in orbit and wipe out the entire planet with nuclear weapons. What more could be at stake than the destruction of all of Nuevo?"

"The destruction of all of humanity," answered Aadi with a tinge of anger in his own voice. Then he sighed and changed to a more conciliatory tone. "I don't have time to explain it all to you." He leaned in close and whispered, "But you must understand that there were other contingencies. The Emperor and the Great Houses did not intend for humanity to go quietly into the night, condemned forever to low-tech refuge worlds. This imposter could interfere with these other plans and destroy all hope of humanity ever regaining its former glory. He could bring another Larsengard to all the worlds."

Everybody on Nuevo knew the legend of Larsengard. House Ashoka would not let them forget. Larsengard had been a Refuge World, but shortly after settling there, House Saud was overthrown by Democratists. The population began skyrocketing, and the Democratists set up independent nation states, who promptly got into an arms and technology race. Their technology advanced so much, so quickly, that it drew the attention of the Umpala. And all was obliterated.

Larsengard was why technology was tightly controlled on Nuevo. Why even the steam engine was forbidden. Why the rule of House Ashoka tended to be harsh at times and why the Crown did not deal lightly with the Colonistas, or the Cosaks, or the Boltamen, or even the Lake People.

She looked him in his eyes. She had thought them soft eyes before, Mother's eyes, but she had thought Mother a kindly, soft woman, not someone of the same blood as Calista and of Emperor Theramenes Xander. The same bloodline that bent the other Great Houses to their will and made their house the Imperial House.

Malaran thought Aadi meant well, but it was just difficult for her to put much weight to all this talk of nebulous plans and contingencies. It had been five hundred years, and apparently, nothing to show for any of it. A battlecruiser armed with nukes, sitting on your doorstep, seemed the bigger concern to her.

It seemed clear to her, but she didn't want to agitate Aadi any further. She looked away. "I don't know," she said softly.

"The Anax-Hema is a key, a key to power. Don't give him the key."

Malaran gave her brother a weak smile. "I have some contingencies of my own." This false Emperor would get more than he bargained for.

#  Chapter 5

_As part of the Prometheus Project's attempt to deliver the powers of the Void to males, it investigated the various theories on why the technology performs so much better in females than males. One such theory that was investigated was the Pacifist Hypothesis. This theory is an extension of the Sabotage Hypothesis, which asserts that Void technology had been intentionally sabotaged by its original creators to be effective only with females. The Pacifist Hypothesis takes this one step further and asserts that the sabotage was an attempt to limit the powers of the Void to peaceful purposes. While it is true that females are typically less prone to violent behavior than males and that the "pacifism" embedded within the organizational structure of the Sacerdotes Vacuum, the Priestesses of Void, could be considered as suggestive of anti-militaristic intent on the part of the_ _technology's_ _creator, no evidence has been discovered that would indicate that the technology itself has been sabotaged to prevent its militarization_ _directly_ _._

This may not have been technologically feasible. Note the battles staves of the elite Agema. While the ability to power a battle staff is limited to a very small portion of the male population and only after years upon years of practice, the staff itself is a very effective combat weapon. Further research conducted with several captured from the so-called "Coven" (a loose confederation of those skilled in the ways of the Void who have turned to criminal enterprise) suggests strongly that the technology itself has no safeguards against weaponization (or against even rather sadistic behavior, see Appendix G-3).

\- The Failure of the Prometheus Project – Official Report to the High Council

Malaran stood alone in the ancient chamber deep beneath the surface, wearing the green and black of the House of Ashoka, a basic officer's uniform in the Ashoka tradition. The area looked a much larger version of the Oculus chamber she had been familiar with, a great orb of a room at least a hundred feet in diameter and a floor of blackest obsidian while ancient technology encrusted the polished white walls and ceiling. Deep within one of their underground sacratoriums, she waited for an audience with the Order of Calista. Like some of the Crown's military installations, the Calistites had dug underground for several of their sacratoriums, not only as a defensive strategy against the return of the Umpala but perhaps to keep away prying eyes.

She just had no idea of the scope. At this site, a small, non-descript Calistite compound hid the entrance to a vast underground cavern that stretched perhaps a few hundred meters in diameter, and within the cavern stood a great, glowing sacratorium like one out of the history books. It boggled her mind that the Calistites had constructed such a magnificent complex on such a low-tech world, a behemoth of metal and crystal. Odd geometries suggested an alien influence to the architecture, perhaps modeled after the Crucible or other alien archeological sites. Humans had encountered only three alien races capable of star travel, the Umpala, the Lyagushka, the mysterious Glotternexae, but they had discovered artifacts and remains from at least a dozen advanced alien civilizations. The Sacerdotes had always liked to include some alien-influenced architecture in their sacratoriums, though Malaran had no idea if it was purely artistic or whether it was functional in some way. Or just purely to enhance their reputation – making the Priestesses appear even more mystical and powerful.

She had been led down a great spiraling staircase into the cavern, but again she thought it was all for effect. They must have had a lift somewhere, but the stairway allowed one to bathe in the full scope of the creation, the exterior fully lit up for no apparent reason other than to show off. Inside, she was led to the opulently-sized version of the Oculus chamber and left to stand and wait her for her audience.

Every little sound would echo and reverberate here in such a polished chamber, but she stood very still, her outward demeanor like a stone. Beneath, her mind raced. She knew she was being observed, the Order pondering her and her mission though she had not spoken of it yet. Fore-Sight typically proved of limited value in predicting the future beyond the next few moments in time, more in such cases a creative tool to see all the possibilities, but Malaran knew that the masters of Fore-Sight among the Order surely saw very likely her mission and why she had come.

As she stood there, she wondered how this great chamber and its ancient tech would boost her abilities. Could she once again use Far-Sight to peer far into space? Could she open a bubble into the Void once again? She had often tried to repeat that feat, but with no success. That is why she had come. Surely some of the Elders here could perform similar acts.

Her dreams had been haunted by nuclear explosions and false emperors, but the dream of Calista's last stand had come to her again too, helping to reassert her resolve to do her part as Calista had done hers. The storm the comes when Calista tears open the Void seemed to become more and more intense each time she revisited the dream.

Then without a sound, they came. Five entered, each from a different entrance. Clad in simple black hooded robes, the Calistites approached her to stand around her in a circle. They made no sound, their ability to move silently surmounting the chamber's ability to echo it. This stealth seemed in contradiction to their age. All seemed in the twilight of their life, gray hair with wrinkled wisdom adorning their faces. All had the deep, penetrating eyes of a Sacrator Superiore.

Malaran suspected the whole little show was meant to unnerve her and test her somehow. It was unnerving to stand before five Elders to begin with, but to have them arrayed around her in a circle was even more so. Malaran could only face one directly at a time and was forced to stand with her back two of the Sacrator Superiores, forced to choose which would she would show the most respect to and which ones she would show the least.

As gracefully as she could, Malaran turned as they approached and met eyes with each, giving each a short nod of her head before turning to the next. Malaran kept telling herself that she was no longer one of their students, she was a princess of House Ashoka and a direct descendent of the Emperor of Man. She was Princess Malaran Athena Marissa Alicia Ashoka, and she had met the enemy in battle and proved victorious.

But her mistakes had cost Father and Mother their lives. At best she could push the self-doubt to the back, but it was always there.

As Malaran acknowledged each Elder, she met eyes with Kalima, her facial expression as blank and unreadable as ever. Only weeks had passed since Kalima had been Malaran's teacher and mentor, but it seemed another lifetime. Malaran had no idea who held the highest rank here, no idea really if one of these was the Sacrator Maximus, so Malaran chose to face Kalima after acknowledging everyone. It was good to see her again. Malaran did actually miss her. She had a very strong urge to smile, maybe just to see if Kalima would react, but she didn't want to do anything to jeopardize the negotiations.

"You would ask much of us," said the shortest, perhaps the eldest, she with the short cropped gray hair and the deepest wrinkled skin, but very alert brown eyes. "Especially for one who abandoned us."

Malaran turned to face the speaker. She knew this would be awkward turning to face whoever spoke, but she didn't seem to have much choice. This was the position they put her in. As far as the Elder's jab about abandoning the Order, Malaran expected the issue to be raised, but she would not attempt to defend her decision unless they forced her. Instead, she focused on the more important decision. "I ask not any more of you than I ask of myself."

"Maybe what you ask of yourself is folly," said another.

Malaran turned as gracefully as she could to face the droopy woman. Just about everything about her was droopy, her face, her clothes. But not her eyes, eyes that had peered across the stars.

The Elder continued, "Maybe what you ask of us is further folly. The first starship since the Fall of Man has far-reaching implications."

"I ask you to stand with me to protect humanity, as Calista did five hundred years ago. That is why the Order was formed. We cannot allow a madman tyrant to destroy what is left of humanity. Cannot just sit here as he nukes the planet again and again."

"Maybe such a path can be averted by other means," said another.

Once again Malaran turned to meet the speaker's eyes. She was the biggest of the five, tall and broad. As to her comment, that had been the question in hatching her plan. Would the Calistites prefer a different path, one of restraint and subtlety? Would they rise to exploit a possible advantage?

As good as his intelligence seemed to be, the imposter emperor on the starship did not seem to recognize that the Order of Calista had splintered away from the Priestesses of the Void. He seemed to think Malaran one of the Sacerdotes, pacifists, not the Calistite offshoot that combined both the Priestesses study of the Void with the Agema's study of the martial arts. Definitely not pacifists, though infernally subtle.

She planned to take advantage of this mistaken belief that she and these Elders were pacifists. She would kill the Emperor after agreeing to the marriage. But she knew she would have only one chance, with a limited possibility of success. And only one chance to also prepare a contingency in case she failed. To bring other "Priestesses" aboard the starship, those who could use their abilities to destroy the starship. Malaran didn't think it required Fore-Sight to realize that the false Emperor wouldn't mind having a few Priestesses come under his control, especially if he had pilot issues and ever planned on acquiring more starships.

She had hoped that she would be able to duplicate her feat with the bubble and maybe damage the starship. Calista had employed a similar feat to destroy much of the Umpala fleet at Athene. All Malaran would need to do is compromise one single starship, from the inside. But she didn't seem to be up to it. No matter how much she practiced, she could not duplicate her trick with bubble.

She would have to kill the Emperor with her bare hands, and if she failed, she needed Calistites there who had greater mastery than herself that could use their powers of the Void to destroy the starship if necessary.

She had accepted that she would likely die no matter what, but she needed to make sure it would not be in vain. She needed to destroy this monster at whatever cost and prevent him from destroying Nuevo and what was left of humanity. And take her revenge on the monster who killed her parents.

"Many paths exist," said Malaran as she looked the Elder in her eyes. "But only one opportunity will present itself to exploit this imposter's mistaken belief that the Order is harmless pacifists. I will do my best to destroy this monster whether the Order accompanies me or not, and then the ploy of pacifism will never work again."

Malaran was ready to turn and face the next speaker, but nobody said a word. Malaran remained looking into the eyes of the big woman. Calistite training and discipline enabled Malaran to keep her outward demeanor calm, her breaths steady and even, but she had trouble restraining her heart. She had a feeling that the rapid pulses in her carotids seemed glaringly obvious to these masters among the Order.

She knew it was more likely minutes, but it seemed like hours that they stood there in silence as she looked into the eyes of an Elder. It was so silent that the subtle hum of the chamber seemed to start reverberating through her bones, and Malaran began to feel wisps of unknown energies flutter across her skin. She wondered what these Calistites were seeing, what feats they were performing here in this great chamber devoted to amplification of abilities and powers. Reading her mind, or reading her future?

Kalima spoke this time, the sudden end to the silence a little jolting, and Malaran quickly turned to face her, relieved to no longer be staring into the same set of eyes.

"If this so-called Emperor will allow it," said Kalima, "the five of us will accompany you as your wedding retinue. Fore-Sight predicts that he will likely allow some Priestesses to join you."

That was too easy. She had expected to be grilled much more, and she worried that they would retire to endlessly debate the issue further among themselves. They proved much more decisive and less bureaucratic than she had anticipated. Way more. She had hoped to pull the Calistites into her plan, but now she couldn't help but wonder if it was the other way around.

She also wasn't sure though how she felt about Kalima coming along. On occasion she had scene Kalima demonstrate some advanced combat forms to the older students so she knew how formidable she could be. But Malaran had envisioned this as a suicide mission. It made her uncomfortable to think that she was asking someone she knew to come die with her.

Another Calistite who had yet to speak, a harsh-looking square-faced woman, said, "We have this." She reached into her robe and pulled out two bracelets engraved with ancient symbols. "A wedding gift," she said with an almost imperceptible grin. She placed the bracelets upon her wrists and held out her arms to demonstrate.

Each bracelet turned to a coil of metallic fibers. The one on her left wrist stretched out and weaved itself into a small elliptical shield that fastened itself onto her upper left arm. The one on her right weaved into a battle staff.

Malaran felt her jaw drop. The true original weapons of the Agema. The secrets of the smart-metal had been lost along with so much else during the Fall. The Order had employed replicas of the shield and staff, but never any this advanced. The Order's more advanced versions could fold in half once or twice, but these could completely transform. Then the battle staff shrank down to only about two feet long, one end in the Elder's hand, the other tip glowing with a midnight-blue glow. A battle baton.

The battle baton configuration was designed for cramped or compact situations where a full-size staff would be unwieldy. The baton could not fire out energy pulses over any distance, but would discharge the energy pulse when physical contact was made with the glowing tip. Supposedly it could blow someone off their feet and fracture any nearby bones, but Malaran had never used a real battle baton before. She had trained with inert versions but not ones that could be energized. Since the vast majority of battle staves on Nuevo lacked the technology to transform back and forth between staff and baton configurations, greater emphasis in training had always been placed on the staff.

The weapons collapsed back down into bracelets, and the Calistite handed these to Malaran. "The probabilities are that their weapons scanners will allow these to pass."

Malaran looked down at her new weapons and felt a renewed sense of optimism. This plan might actually work.

***

Malaran and the five Calistites stood on the vast purple plain waiting to be picked up. Malaran had dressed for the occasion, a gown of dark blue with silver trim, the colors of the Emperor of Man. The two smart-metal bracelets decorated her wrists. The Calistites wore rich black robes, a little fancier and ornate than usual but maybe more like how Priestesses of the Void would adorn themselves.

While she had met with the Order, the false Emperor had nuked the planet yet again. Not a true strike but more of a warning it would seem. Close enough to be seen and felt at Malaran's old priory and citadel, but not close enough to cause any real damage. The false Emperor's way of prodding a decision, it seemed.

It made Malaran more resolute in her decision, in her sacrifice. The madman had to be stopped. Leela had so much sorrow in her eyes when they parted, guessing Malaran's plan though they did not speak of it. They both knew that Malaran would not return, even if successful. The only way to truly contain the madness, to prevent an equally insane underling from taking the Emperor's place, would be for the Calistites to destroy the ship.

Malaran had wanted to tell her that death was better than the alternative, being the wife and child-bearer of a monster, but she doubted it would have comforted Leela. It didn't really comfort herself. Only the thought of destroying the monster appeased the sorrow she felt.

The Calistites just stood there in silence, stoic and mystical as always, not responding any time Malaran tried to talk strategy, again making her wonder whose plan this really was.

It was odd; she had felt almost guilty about the relief she experienced when she left the Order -- like a weight had been lifted, no longer restricted to a particular life. And then she turned around and put herself back under a bigger weight \-- the mushroom cloud rising over Father's shattered, incinerated body changing her universe.

She looked out over Nuevo for the last time, the famous purple grasslands of the Vastedad Morada extending as far as the eye could see, the musty smell so familiar that she barely noticed it. Large flying insects buzzed over the grass. Five hundred years ago her ancestors were forced to settle on this inhospitable planet as the Umpala obliterated the Core Worlds of the Empire. She had spent much of her life wishing she could leave, to visit the Ashoka home-world of Niyati, to see the other worlds of the old Empire. Now, she seemed to experience just as much melancholy about the idea of leaving Nuevo forever as she did about the idea of never getting the chance to visit another world.

She sensed the ships coming and looked up. Three troop transports descended while several attack craft patrolled the sky.

With staccato reverberations from the straining engines, the landers set down around them, and their rear doors slid open. Enemy troops spilled out. Two companies, energy rifles at the ready, spread out to secure the perimeter. The third company, outfitted as the revered Agema with black and silver uniforms and bearing shield and staff, rushed in to surround Malaran and her retinue.

She held back her glare at these pretenders. At least their ineptness will make her job easier.

An officer stepped forward and saluted Malaran, pumping his right fist to left shoulder and then fully extending his arm. "Your Highness, Princess Malaran Athena Marissa Alicia Ashoka, His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Man, sends his regards and his eternal love." He nodded to the open bay of the landing ship. "Your chariot awaits."

Malaran just nodded, trying not to let his smugness affect her demeanor. She had a part to play. For a little while longer. And then she would make these bastards pay.

#  Chapter 6

_The vote of the synod was very close. The opposition was strong. The_ _"_ _Grand Compromise_ _"_ _almost failed. Many considered it a monumental alteration in our core beliefs. In the end, though, we agreed to pilot the_ _Emperor's_ _warships directly into battle zones, nudging our pacifism just a little further than what some were comfortable with. Others saw little moral difference to our previous practice – linking_ _up and using a non-combat ship to guide battle groups to just outside a star system, then allowing the so_ _-_ _called_ _"_ _combat navigators_ _"_ _to complete the short transit into battle. Either way, we aided the efforts of war, though in neither case did we participate in the fighting, simply ferrying the vessels to where the soldiers wanted to go._

And in return, the Emperor gave us dominion over all who would interact with the Void. No one was allowed to pilot a starship without our sanction. We became the official masters of interstellar travel, an imperial-sanctioned monopoly. This and the growing Umpala threat convinced the majority to vote in favor. Our growing inability to predict the Umpala's actions and to peer into their secrets was becoming a more and more serious concern every day.

\- Journals of Marcia XII, Sacrator Primus of the Sacerdotes Vacuum (359 to 373 P.D.)

The weapon scanners did not stop Malaran from coming aboard with her bracelets. Either the tech on the ship was too new and had never dealt with smart-metal before, or maybe it recognized and yet implicitly trusted the gear of the Emperor's elite guard. Or perhaps it even sensed the Anax-Hema, the genetic marker in her blood, and gave her a free pass.

About twenty soldiers remained with her, though, a platoon of the false Agema led by the smug officer from before, escorting her and the Calistites from the landing bay to the heart of the starship. She had never got a good sense of how massive the ship, the _Menelaus,_ was until the transports had pulled up close as they approached the landing bay. Thousands upon thousands could live here. It almost took her breath away to think the old Empire had scores of ships even larger than this _Achilles_ -class battlecruiser.

As she walked the narrow corridors with the Calistites and the enemy soldiers, she wondered when she should strike. Apparently, a large throne room had been constructed, and the Emperor would formally meet and welcome her there with much pomp and circumstance, cameras likely recording everything for the history books.

The throne-room would likely be filled with guards, but guards not too adept compared to her training and abilities, at least at close quarters. If she were to make her attempt there, though, then the Calistites might get caught in the crossfire or even just be executed on the spot, spoiling her contingency plan as well.

She knew she would have some alone time with the false Emperor if he planned on producing heirs anytime soon, but there was a chance that he didn't trust the whole pacifism thing. He did just murder her parents after all, and even an avowed pacifist might seek revenge. He might decide to drug her anytime she was alone with him.

She let out a little sigh as boot steps sounded off the hard plastic flooring, ten soldiers in front and ten in back. She might have to take her chances with the drugs. She did have some training in using the energies of the Void to bolster her immune system and her healing abilities, but it usually took a lifetime to master. She wasn't sure she could do much to neutralize drugs even a little bit at this point.

She glanced at her companions as they walked. The damn Calistites had ignored her attempts at formulating a coordinated plan. As she had tried to discuss scenarios, they had just stared at her blankly. She had almost detected a hint of amusement in Kalima's eyes. Malaran had never gone through Invocation and never progressed beyond acolyte, and just based on their age she suspected these women to have achieved great masteries. Yet, if the Calistites cared not for her schemes, then they should at least tell her what was expected of her so that she would not spoil their own plans.

The group stopped in front of the doors to a large freight elevator. "Just a moment please," said the smug officer from before that led the platoon of false Agema.

Malaran barely registered the blur of black robes as the Calistites burst out against the soldiers, a flurry of arms and legs twisting and striking, sweeping into the enemy.

She sprung forward to assist, but she could not keep up with the advanced battle forms they employed, elegant and graceful, pushing forward a shockwave of destruction. Some of the enemies simply collapsed, powerful blows striking nerves or organs. The smug officer just looked on in shock as one of the Calistites seemed to rip his larynx out of his throat effortlessly. Others shattered, bones snapping and cracking; flesh ripped apart. The sounds that would haunt her dreams, if she ever got the chance to dream again after today.

Within a few breaths, the Calistites downed all the guards and took their weapons. Malaran had never seen anything like it. On occasion, Kalima had demonstrated advanced techniques to her during her training, but this was so much more.

Four of the Calistites sprinted off in different directions while Kalima remained. "Follow me," said Kalima.

They sprinted down the narrow corridors, Malaran doing her best to move as silently as Kalima, who seemed to know where she was headed.

As the shock began to wear off, Malaran worried that the Calistites had just ruined her chance to kill the false Emperor. The only hope now would be if the Calistites could destroy the ship, something Malaran could do little to aid in. Just sit in the corner and watch.

They worked their way through crawlspaces and up more ladders, Kalima always seeming to know the direction. Malaran wondered if the alarm had gone out yet, or if everybody still sat in the throne room waiting for the freight elevator to bring up the bridal party.

Kalima came to a stop as they crawled down another tunnel, and then turned and kicked out an access panel that led out to a standard sized corridor.

Kalima shot around another turn and ran up to a door guarded by two men, each geared as the false Agema.

This time, Malaran remembered her bracelets and activated her weapons, but Kalima had already punched a crushing blow into one's larynx and was in the process of ramming her thumb through the other's eye, shoving it in deep as her old, wrinkled hand would allow.

She turned to Malaran as the guard's lifeless body collapsed to the floor. "Activate the hand scanner," she said.

Malaran stepped forward and looked around, unsure what was expected of her.

Kalima pointed to the pad near the door. "The Anax-Hema. It is a key to many things, including Imperial overrides."

Malaran wondered how Kalima knew all this. Apparently, she knew Malaran's family secret, knew about the Anax-Hema. She also knew about the Imperial overrides. She knew how to find this door. Could Sight reveal so much?

Malaran stepped forward and placed her hand near the scanner, and then looked back to Kalima to see if she was ready. Kalima had taken a dagger off each guard and held both in throwing-grips in each hand. The guards' energy weapons were not true battle staff and shield, they used a back-mounted power cell rather than directly tapping the Void, and apparently Kalima thought those weapons less worthwhile than the daggers.

Malaran held out her weapons. "You could probably make better use of these."

"We need you alive," said Kalima. "We can't take command of the ship without the Anax-Hema."

Malaran just looked at the daggers in Kalima's hands. "Any idea what's on the other side of the door?"

"The technology in the Pilot's Chamber makes it easier to peer out with Sight, but tends to make it more difficult to peer in from the outside." Then she looked at the hand scanner. "Enough talk."

Malaran had raised an eyebrow at the mention of Pilot's Chamber but then placed her hand on the scanner, feeling a warm response as the panel lit up and analyzed her DNA. She wondered if it would work after all these centuries, but the ancient tech often seemed like magic anyways. Then a green light flashed.

The door slid open sideways, disappearing into the wall, and Kalima shot forward.

Green energy pulses, stunners, slammed into their position, forcing Kalima to go cartwheeling and rolling off to the side. Malaran raised her shield and leaped into the fray.

A blast impacted off her shield as she identified the enemy's position. The false Emperor and three of his guards stood arrayed near the center of the great circular room. Almost like they had seen this coming. Two of his guards had already fallen and lay upon the black obsidian floor, a dagger hilt protruding from one eye of each man.

The room seemed to be another large version of the Oculus chamber. The Pilot Chamber.

Malaran fired and charged behind her shield, knowing she would have an advantage in close combat. As she advanced, a green pulse grazed her thigh and caused it to go momentarily limp, forcing her to stumble.

She forced herself into a roll and brought her shield up just as another blast of energy impacted against it.

She maneuvered her staff into position to fire just as Kalima crashed into the enemy group, a flurry of advanced combat forms. The remaining three guards collapsed beneath her onslaught, but in the process, the false Emperor fired from point blank range.

The green energy of the stunner slammed into Kalima, and she collapsed like a sack of dirt where she stood.

"No!" shouted Malaran as she twisted and fired, shock and anger at seeing her mentor fall.

The false Emperor threw himself away from the shot, but the dark energy pulse blasted through his stun rifle, scattering debris and knocking him down and forcing him to roll for cover.

Malaran leaped fully to her feet, forcing the feeling back into her stunned thigh muscle, and advanced on the fallen enemy. Excitement shot through her, so close to victory.

As she prepared to fire the final shot and reap her revenge on the monster, coils of smart metal erupted from his wrists.

The shock slowed her response, and her energy blast just grazed the false Emperor as he spun around away from the shot. Upon completing his turn, the smart metal had finished forming into weapons. But not the ancient weapons of the Agema.

He bore a round shield, not elliptical, and instead of a staff, his forearm bore affixed to it a short rod adorned with several metal spikes pointing away from his arm and a big curved blade functioning like a bayonet up nearing the firing port. A _kubastan_ , a weapon of the Umpala.

Apparently, the monster's insanity knew no bounds. Bearing Umpala weapons seemed practically obscene.

He smiled at Malaran, his eyes as eager as ever. "Ah, foreplay," he said.

Malaran shouted and charged. If he wanted to pretend to be an Umpala, she would slaughter him like one. She focused her mind, summoning Fore-Sight and True-Sight, and the ghostly virtual images quickly spawned in her vision, the technology embedded in the Pilot Chamber assisting her Sight and making it much easier to invoke.

For fifteen years Kalima had trained her to fight the Umpala, taught her the strengths and weaknesses of their weapons. She doubted the false Emperor had trained as well or as long to fight the weapons and tactics of the Agema.

She slashed her shield towards his throat, forcing him to bring his shield up to defend.

He fired the kubastan, but a moment beforehand one of the ghostly Fore-Sight images had suddenly become crystal clear, the probabilities coalescing, and Malaran side-stepped the energy pulse of dark energy. The pulse flew wide and impacted the wall, causing a reverberation to ring through the Pilot's Chamber, a room designed to amplify the forces and energies of the Void.

The kubastan didn't have as much physical reach as a staff, but it often proved easier to point and fire energy pulses while in close combat.

Malaran jabbed the end of her staff forward and pressed the attack. Fore-Sight revealed the false Emperor's most likely moves, a faint overlay and conglomeration of his possible future maneuvers, the most probable one revealing the most detail and contrast. True-Sight alerted her in real-time to which were feints and which were real strikes.

As she gave herself up to the energy of the Void and the flow of the ancient battle forms, her strikes got closer and closer to scoring a decisive blow. The enemy was forced back to a purely defensive posture, narrowly evading slashing blow after slashing blow. Panic filled his eyes now.

"You don't have to do this," he panted. "We can still rule the Empire together. We need each other. You've just seen the tip of the iceberg of what is to come."

She smashed down a two-handed strike, crashing down his shield and sending it tumbling across the floor.

In a last frantic act, he fired the kubastan, but she had already yanked her shield into position.

As the energy pulse rattled off her shield, she brought the end of her staff up and with both hands and her full body thrust forward with all her strength -- the battle form called the Dragon Slayer. The tip of staff shoved the imposter against the wall and punctured right through his chest.

"This is just the tip of the iceberg," he whispered as the life seemed to drain from his eyes.

She twisted and yanked the staff, pulling it free from the false Emperor's standing corpse. His body crumpled.

Exhilaration shot through her for a brief moment, but then she remembered where she was.

She ran to Kalima. She had no idea what Kalima's plans were or what Kalima intended of her. "Kalima! Kalima!" she said, gently slapping the old woman's face, but getting no response.

She needed Kalima to regain conscious and soon. Damn Calistites would not discuss plans or strategy ahead of time. She put Kalima's hands around her staff while she also grasped it, and then she opened up the pinprick into the Void, letting the dark energy run through the staff and through their hands.

Kalima jerked, and her eyes sprung open, though her eyes and her head seemed to sway a bit.

"Kalima, what was your plan? What should I do?" Malaran asked.

Kalima looked around as though trying to get her bearings. "We intended to capture the vessel," she said, voice still raspy from the stun effects. "Pilot it near the sun and let radiation kill most of the crew."

Malaran nodded. It made sense. When fully energized, the Pilot Chamber would protect the occupants from most of the radiation.

Kalima groggily prodded herself up onto her elbows. "It's not over, though. There's still the pilot. She was able to shroud much from Sight. Be prepared."

A roar echoed through the chamber, and a blast of dark energy sliced through Kalima's upper arm. She fell back with the loss of leverage and then rolled away, but not nearly with the speed and agility she had demonstrated earlier. Most of her arm remained on the floor as she vacated the spot.

Malaran swung her shield and staff into position and fired all in one smooth motion.

The shot deflected off the enemy's round shield.

Malaran's heart jumped a beat. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. A large creature stood several feet taller than her, his big, muscular body reminding her of a gorilla from the storybooks, though covered in a very light fur of dark grey. Much of its head was covered by an ornamental dark metallic helmet inscribed with unfamiliar symbols, but there was not a faceguard to obscure his strange face – something like a cross between a gorilla and a lizard -- round and relatively flat jawed, but with scales and huge reptilian eyes. An Umpala, a destroyer of man, in the flesh, here in the middle of a human battlecruiser. What madness was this?

The pilot. That's why she hadn't been able to sense a Priestess here. There wasn't one. Then she remembered about the helmet. The battle-shaman, elite warriors well versed in the ways of the Void, wore that kind of helmets.

A blast deflected off her shield as she shifted into a crouch, keeping as much of her body as she could behind her shield.

She felt no fear, only anticipation. Eagerness to slaughter and destroy the ancient enemy. She had prepared for this moment her entire life.

The Umpala grunted out some strange noises as he maneuvered, cautiously probing. As far as she knew, nobody on Nuevo had ever been familiar with their language, and Malaran didn't know if he spoke words or just grunted.

As Malaran maneuvered about looking for an opening, she wondered what changes and improvements the Umpala had adopted over the last five hundred years.

She glanced over to the other side of the room and saw Kalima lying collapsed on the ground, a crude tourniquet on the stump of her arm.

Malaran let out a silent scream attempting to invoke once again Fore-Sight or True-Sight, to summon whatever advantage she could get to avenge the Fall of Man. But she perceived only shadows.

With a shrieking grunt, the Umpala charged, firing his kubastan as he bounded towards her, forcing Malaran to focus on her shield work.

As he neared, she sprung forward with her shield, performing an advanced kata, feinting a jab before swinging the staff around to fire at his ankles.

Their shields crashed together, but he ignored the feint and shuffled his feet away from her maneuver.

Malaran wondered once again if the Umpala had spent five hundred years reviewing their failures against the Agema in personal combat.

The Umpala crashed his shield against hers and tried his moves at firing at her feet, but she had spent many years practicing to evade the blasts of a kubastan in close combat. With shield and staff, she controlled his firing angles.

As she struck back with her shield, she twirled the staff behind her body in a maneuver to confuse and disguise the next strike and then struck fast with staff towards his head.

He countered both the staff strike and the almost simultaneous quick kick at his legs.

Then he immediately counter-attacked, slashing with his kubastan _,_ almost catching her off-balance and forcing her to shuffle away.

Malaran became concerned. The battle-shaman was using Sight against her, predicting her moves, but Sight wasn't working for her. Malaran tried to remember her training, the parts about dealing with an opponent using Sight. She had no idea what advanced techniques this battle-shaman might be employing, but the basic technique taught to lowly acolytes was to put one's mind into different realities so that the opponent's Fore-Sight would become filled with conflicting images.

The kubastan's main blade sliced just millimeters from her face as she jerked back at the last instant. Malaran took a deep breath and tried to bring a younger, less experienced version of herself forward in her mind, summoning her memories of her first training lessons years ago. Her conscious mind considered the basic fighting moves first taught to new students, while at the same time she let her instinct, her subconscious mind and her muscle memory, do the actual fighting.

It was pretty difficult to do while someone was trying to kill you, especially an Umpala battle-shaman, and she wasn't sure it was really helping any. She blocked another slashing strike and fell back once again. The Umpala still seemed to easily counter everything she threw at him, and always came back with a well-timed counter-attack. It felt riskier and riskier to attempt any offensive moves, and she found herself always falling back on the defensive.

The Umpala roared again and lunged forward with his shield, trying to use his mass advantage to knock her down, and she just barely spun out of the way in time. She felt she could have taken the false Emperor pretty handily even without the aid of Sight, but now the shoe was on the other foot. She was just an acolyte and might be overmatched by the Battle-Shaman even if he wasn't using Sight. But he sure seemed to be using Sight, and she was at a severe disadvantage. One she didn't think she had the speed or skills to overcome. She was far from being the master that Kalima and the other Elders were. Had she stayed in the Order it would have likely taken four to five more years just to become Sacrator and a lifetime to become a Sacrator Superiore.

The Umpala pressed the attack, barely missing on several slashes, forcing her to use her superior agility against the massive creature.

She had trained her whole life for this moment, to stand against the Umpala, and here she was one-on-one. And failing. Such an embarrassment to the Order. To herself. To Calista. Calista was her aunt, able to rip a fleet of starships from the sky, yet Malaran was failing to defeat a single Umpala.

And then the realization came to her. There would be more than just one Umpala. The Umpala were coming. She didn't know what kind of scheme brought this battle-shaman here on a human starship, but the Umpala must be on the move again. Coming again to wreak havoc on humanity. And she must stand against it. Here and now, to do her part to stem the tide. She would whatever she could to defeat the Umpala.

Like Calista.

In her moment of need, in this great chamber designed to enhance the powers of the Void, she finally once again was able to force open a bubble like she had to save Leela. A small bubble in space-time began to blossom.

The Umpala hesitated, seeming to sense the disturbance in the Void.

Malaran leaped forward and crashed into him as the bubble swelled forth and engulfed them both.

There was a sense of euphoria as total silence and total darkness descended on her as she suddenly floated in the small Void separated from gravity, separated from normal space-time. She had done it. In the darkness, though, she could sense the battle-shaman flailing around like a drowning swimmer, not knowing what was happening to him. She needed to destroy him before he got his bearings.

Malaran shifted her concentration and through the pure exertion of will, she manipulated the bubble to increase the distance between her and the Umpala. She found she did have some control of the bubble, to shift it and move about within it.

She summoned Sight and peered back into the normal space-time of the Pilot Chamber to get her bearings. In her mind's eye, she could see outside the bubble, but the scene was strange, ripples and distortions ran through the peripheral imagery while the colors constantly shifted. And there in the middle of the chamber, twisted, distorted images of the floor and ceiling jerkily moving about the outer shell of the bubble, like the matter inside the chamber didn't know how to act in the presence of the bubble. It was an awesome sight.

Since that day she had first produced a bubble she had often wondered about its nature, wondered if it was more like a shield that she had wrapped around herself, or if she had truly exited the normal universe, perhaps something like starships do when they transit the Void. She wasn't sure what she was seeing revealed much in this regard, not sure even if an outside observer would even see the bubble, but for whatever reason the bubble did seem to be affixed or attached somehow to the reference frame that it was created in – it still seemed to travel through orbit in the Pilot Chamber of the _Menelaus_. She didn't understand it, and she wondered if perhaps there were some unknown forces that held it here or if perhaps it was her mind that held the bubble here in the Pilot Chamber. Which made her mind race with the possibilities? Could she transit the Void? Could she suddenly return to Nuevo? Could she move the bubble about at all?

She focused her mind and willed the bubble to move a few feet. It felt like pushing a boulder with her mind. She felt no change, but in her mind's eye, she saw the transition with Sight. It moved.

And then she suddenly realized something else. She had been so excited about forming the bubble; she hadn't realized what effort it took to keep it up. The same effort required to move the bubble was also required to keep it intact. She felt it wanting to collapse.

She needed to do something about the Umpala and quickly.

With some mental effort, she shifted her and the Umpala's orientation within the bubble. She floated above, and he floated below. She decided she would move the bubble downwards, through the floor, half above the floor and half below the floor, and try to release the bubble so that she would land on the floor of the Pilot Chamber while the Umpala would drop to the deck below. She could then hopefully seal the chamber with her overrides.

She struggled to position the bubble and hold it intact at the same time. As the bubble descended through the floor, it seemed to shrink as her mental strength fatigued. Suddenly she could sense the Umpala's flailing grow closer. She wondered what would happen if she released the bubble while the Umpala was occupying the same space as the floor.

Then she tried it.

Malaran dropped and fell on top of the Umpala as gravity returned, and then quickly sprung away. He failed to catch hold of her, his elbows and much of his body having become implanted into the obsidian floor when the bubble collapsed.

He roared and screamed as he tried to free himself, but over half his body seemed encased by the floor.

Malaran couldn't help but wonder if parts of him had totally fused with the floor. He wouldn't live long then. But she wasn't taking any chances. She jumped up and grabbed one of the stun rifles the guards had been using and shot the Umpala in the head several times with the green energy beams until he seemed to go unconscious, and then she shot him a couple more times for good measure.

She ran to Kalima and propped her up. The bleeding had stopped -- much of the wound had been cauterized to begin with, and the tourniquet had taken care of the rest. She could tell from her eyes that she was in deep concentration. Probably trying to keep her body from going into shock. Malaran lifted her and carried her to the pilot's chair.

After Malaran had sat her down in the chair, Kalima seemed to become more aware of her surroundings. She still looked dazed, but with her remaining hand, she pointed to a panel on the consoles near the chair. "The override," she said in her raspy voice.

Malaran placed her palm over the panel, and the consoles all lit up.

Kalima reached forward to work the controls on the consoles, and Malaran had to help prop her up and lean her over.

Kalima leaned back when she was done and said, "I've locked down the Pilot's Chamber." She sighed. "Romina and Charvi fell while creating diversions, but the others should be here soon."

"And then what?" Malaran asked.

Kalima glanced at the Umpala stuck in the floor. "I wonder how many people on this ship knew that they were allied with the Umpala. Maybe you can convince the crew to stand down. Show them the folly of their ways." Then she looked Malaran with one of her looks. "Surely you learned something about politics from your father."

"A little," said Malaran. "But I had seemed to be on a different path."

Kalima's expression altered slightly, only Malaran's fifteen years of experience enable her to detect it.

"You have saved Nuevo, for the time being, conquered a tyrant, captured a starship, and defeated an Umpala battle-shaman, the first in almost five hundred years," said Kalima. "You must've had a good teacher." And then she murmured, "I think she'd be very satisfied with your progress."

Malaran didn't know quite know how to react \-- embarrassed, proud, and startled, at a minimum. She bowed her head and said, "I will be eternally grateful for all that the Order has done for me."

Kalima practically snorted, jolting Malaran further. "Don't think that we're done with you yet."

#  Epilogue

Whoever is guiding the Umpala remains shrouded. Sight has always predicted disarray, yet the Umpala continue forward united. Key elements of the Umpala are well versed in the ways of the Void, but this appears to be something different. It is possible that they are simply too alien for our human minds to digest, but in the thirty or so years since first contact, this does seem to be something new. The possibility exists that they attained this new ability naturally, perhaps conflict with humans spurring forward their efforts, but I and several of the synod suspect that an outside force is directing the Umpala.

\- Journals of Marcia XII, Sacrator Primus of the Sacerdotes Vacuum (359 to 373 P.D.), recorded 364 P.D. (3 years prior to the Fall of Man.)

Streamers from falling starship debris shot across the blue sky as Mordauk, both _Kojo_ and an emissary to Shadow Clan, pushed forward with the Stormlord's personal vanguard across the sandstone plateau. Dozens of guards marched in a defensive formation around the imposing Stormlord with his flowing black cape and his high helm adorned with two sets of horns taken from a _golgarlak_ beast. Battle horns taken from the same beasts sounded all across the plateau. The ground rumbled beneath the feet of the Umpala legions, big gorilla-like beings with short dark fur of dark gray and big round heads. The rounded head revealed their odd genetic heritage by being adorned with scales rather than fur and sporting big round reptilian eyes.

Battle was being waged on the planet the humans had once called Athene, back before their race fell. The Shadow Clan legions thundered forward and crashed against the Fire Clan, storms of blue lightning erupting in the middle of close combat as both sides fired upon each other in the middle of hacking and slashing with their kubastans _._ Dozens of legions, each near five thousand strong, battled across the barren, sand-colored landscape.

Though he was Kojo, a disciple of the Doomsayer and a member of the Sacred Ring, today Mordauk blended in with the regular Shadow Clan warriors. Like they, he bore a kubastan, an energy weapon attached to and extending the length of his forearm that included spikes extending outward from the shaft and large curved blade at the end like a bayonet. The traditional small round shield adorned his left forearm. The legions all donned metallic breastplates and greaves on their arms and legs, a legacy of the war with the humans and their battle staffs.

Mordauk had been a warrior once, but now he had become so much more.

Outwardly he looked like any other Umpala, but as a disciple of the Doomsayer, he commanded the mystical energies of the _Gorhah_ , the hidden reality. More than just a diviner, he wielded these forces to pave the way for the coming of the Ninth Avatar. Not only had Mordauk heard the pronouncements of the Doomsayer, but he had experienced his visions as well. The Ninth Avatar would bring a new age of Umpala dominion over much of the galaxy, and Mordauk intended to be one of the great lords whose mere whim could annihilate entire worlds, entire races.

"Push the defilers into the sea," the Stormlord Gardodadogaur roared over the din of battle as a squadron of sky-warriors streaked by overhead, each achieving powered flight via the flying-wing strapped to their backs.

Mordauk could smell the salty undertones of the ocean wafting through the stink of battle and gore, but he knew the ocean to be miles away. The battle had proved larger than he had expected. He had assumed that the Fire Clan would fight just long enough to satisfy their honor and then withdraw.

That was what he had instructed of the Fire Clan anyway. He did not officially speak for the Doomsayer in this matter, but he had expected the words of a Kojo, a member of the Sacred Ring, to be given more thoughtful consideration than it had. Stubborn old Nuadook, the Stormlord of Fire Clan, would pay for his disobedience to the Kojo. Mordauk smiled grimly as he thought of disemboweling Nuadook in front of Fire Clan's elders and forcing them to eat his entrails as he screamed in agony.

A sonic boom from an extra-large piece of wreckage streaking across the sky distracted Mordauk from his wistful thoughts and his mood soured as he glanced up. He didn't give a damn about the carnage among the legions, but the starships he did care about. The remains of several different ships littered fiery meteorites through the sky.

All this jockeying for position before the coming of the Ninth Avatar seemed to be complicating Mordauk's plans. Nuadook probably thought it worth the risks to try and secure a better position for Fire Clan before the Ninth Avatar suspended open hostilities between the clans. Generations ago during the war with the humans, the Eighth Avatar had united the clans and had forbidden any open war between them. A certain amount of covert warfare continued of course, but it had proven difficult for any clan to improve their status until the Eighth Avatar withdrew, after the humans had been defeated and their ability to travel the stars had been crushed.

Mordauk could see Nuadook's logic, his desire to secure what he can before it's too late. The Eighth Avatar had ruled for only one generation, but the Doomsayer predicted that the Ninth Avatar would rule for at least one hundred generations. If it were but a matter of Fire Clan versus Shadow Clan, Mordauk could appreciate Nuadook's actions, even if they were short-sighted — the new age would open up much of the galaxy for conquest. But to defy one of the Kojo, that was unwise.

To defy Mordauk's personal ambitions, that was a different matter entirely.

The rage at Fire Clan's defiance started to swell within him, but then suddenly a shout went up off on the left flank. Most of the warriors in the Stormlord's vanguard turned to the northeast and began firing skyward as streaks of blue energy shot back and forth from ground and sky.

Mordauk looked up to see that a swarm of enemy sky-warriors had broken through somehow and came straight at the vanguard, a suicidal run. Killing an enemy Stormlord would bring great glory to one's sept.

Mordauk summoned the energy of the Gorhah, powering his kubastan _,_ powering it much beyond the capability of common warriors. Though the technology in the spiked and bladed kubastan did most of the work, one could not complete the path of a warrior without learning to tap into the energies of Gorhah enough to power his weapon. That was trivial compared to the abilities of Kojo. Mordauk could do much more than power his weapon. As the Fire Clan sky-warriors swooped through the outer defenses, he released the pent up energy of his kubastan, but instead of a single pulse of blue energy, he modulated the weapon's discharge into several interconnected strands of blue energy that spread out into a wider and wider pattern until it slammed into about five or six sky-warriors, sending them tumbling and cartwheeling from the sky.

A few dozen enemy sky-warriors remained intact, though, and from every one yellow fire suddenly erupted from their flying wings. Rockets.

Mordauk dropped for cover as dozens of explosions rocked the ground in blindingly bright flashes as shrapnel ripped through the air. A part of him, his old warrior self, felt outraged at the rockets and shrapnel. True warriors did not use shrapnel against foes willing to fight toe-to-toe with kubastans. A part of him though berated himself for thinking like a common warrior, in trusting in honor. If nothing else, disruptor fields should have been deployed. The human war had forced the Umpala to change many of their preconceptions about warfare, but after that war had been won, the new generations reverted back to the old warrior code. The coming of the Ninth Avatar will shake the galaxy, littering the ground with fools unable to adapt to the new age.

After the last blast, Mordauk remained crouched and peered around to take stock of the situation as dozens of warriors battled kubastan to kubastan all about him, hacking and slashing with blade and spikes while mixing in several shots of blue energy. The shrapnel had laid down many warriors, and it appeared that fairly even numbers now battled for their lives. There was no point in risking his life for Gardodadogaur. If the Stormlord perished, then Mordauk would simply convince his replacement of his obligations.

Mordauk recognized certain shouts and glanced in that general direction and saw that the Stormlord still stood, ringed by his guards, both those still standing and those that had fallen when they used their bodies to shield him from the shrapnel, shouting encouragement and threats to his warriors as they battled the Fire Clan assault force.

Mordauk's attention got yanked back to his immediate vicinity as a nearby warrior screamed in agony as a kubastan hacked a massive gash through his neck and shoulder, a gash cleaved straight through armor plates before biting so deeply into flesh. The forward blade of the kubastan rippled with blue energy as the victor ripped it free. No common warrior could manipulate his weapon so. He was possibly a member of the Flaming Blade _koroc_ , given the way he manipulated his blade. Further still, he wore the helmet of a warrior-diviner, inscribed with emblems of power and above this forehead the metal form of a snarling face of some kind of insect creature. That caught Mordauk's attention. His secret benefactor, Kardardithicus, often appeared insectoid in nature.

The Flaming Blade stepped over his fallen opponent and looked at Mordauk. Their eyes met, and at that moment Mordauk focused his mind and caused a ripple of blue energy to flare on his blade, a demonstration. _Don't waste your time with me,_ he thought. Then he glanced at the Stormlord about twenty yards away, suggesting an alternative path, a path of less resistance. Mordauk did not fear the Flaming Blade, might have even enjoyed the challenge under different circumstances, but the earlier rocket attack had been a splash of cold water. It would not be the warrior code that wins glory and power in the coming age. And he intended to win glory and power, no matter the cost.

The Flaming Blade smiled at Mordauk, but instead of angling off towards the Stormlord, he advanced straight towards Mordauk in a low crouch with shield and kubastan at the ready. For a moment Mordauk thought the diviner might be daft, to one moment violate the warrior code using rockets and shrapnel so that his mission could be accomplished, and then in the next moment turn away from that mission to challenge a foe in the opposite direction, a foe that was likely the deadliest on the field with his own glowing blade.

But as the Flaming Blade advanced upon him, Mordauk realized that his foe wasn't daft. He just had another target in mind all along. He dared challenge one of the Kojo.

Mordauk opened his arms, holding his shield and kubastan out to the sides at about shoulder height, a challenge and an insult all wrapped in one. If this degenerate, this _tadroknan,_ truly were a Flaming Blade, they all would suffer, every member of his _koroc_. His mind tried to race, to try and figure out who sent him, to ponder whether it might be Naudook or another Kojo _,_ but he diverted his speeding mind the best he could. He had to focus on the here and now as his opponent drew near. At least it was an open challenge, not a hidden blade in the back.

With that thought, Mordauk quickly glanced around the chaotic fighting around him to make sure no assassin sneaked towards his back. Most Umpala would not even be able to fathom the idea of using a hidden assassin, but some of his enemies might be more forward thinking. A cowardly assassination would result in very problematic consequences for everyone behind it, even if it succeeded, but yet some might ponder it. Mordauk himself had entertained such idle speculation on occasion.

He saw no assassin today and turned his attention back to the advancing Flaming Blade as he shifted into a basic fighting stance. He increased the flow of energy into his weapon, making sure the blade had a brilliant blue glow. With the energy diverted to the blade, the weapon would be unable to fire a blast of energy. The battle would be blade versus blade, up close and personal with no need to defend against energy pulses.

A part of Mordauk wanted to strike down his foe with the red energies that Kalgardithicus had taught him to manipulate, but it was not yet time to reveal this hidden power. Besides, he had some other tricks up his sleeves.

Mordauk sneered at the Flaming Blade as he opened a siphon to draw energy into the heavy chain collar around his neck. As with the kubastan and shield, the Urgu had been proficient at using their advanced technology to empower certain items to tap and manipulate the energies of the Gorhah. The various _koroc_ , diviner societies and warrior societies, tended to hoard and covet these instruments of power, but being Kojo often entitled one to the better options.

The Flaming Blade launched several strikes that emphasized his energized blade.

Mordauk countered easily with shield and kubastan. The Flaming Blade attempted to lure him into overconfidence. But Mordauk had the superior trap.

Several tentative blows fell back and forth, and then Mordauk launched into a flurry of much more aggressive counter-strikes.

The Flaming Blade deflected these and then struck back hard himself.

Mordauk leaned back just in time to avoid a massive thrust, but instead of knocking the Flaming Blade's arm away with his shield, Mordauk stepped in close. Normally this would have meant death as he had exposed his right flank--he couldn't strike past Flaming Blade's shield in time before his opponent simply pulled his kubastan back and shredded Mordauk's side with the secondary blades and spikes.

But Mordauk activated the collar around his neck, switching most of the energy flow from his blade to the collar, creating a stun-field all about his body. The field did not extend very far at all, but the two warriors were right on top of each other. The field extended far enough to ensnare most of Flaming Blade's body. It took great skill and training to energize multiple weapons at the same time, and there was no dishonor in using a second weapon if one could manage it. Few could.

The Flaming Blade could still move his left arm and its shield around a little, but most of his body was clenched tight and unmoving.

Looking him in the eye, Mordauk smiled. The Flaming Blade's eyes were filled with panic.

Mordauk brought his blade up to his opponent's belly. Challenging Kojo had severe consequences. Disembowelment, especially when rendered defenseless, was one of the lowest forms of humiliation among Umpala warriors.

The mostly stiff Flaming Blade tried to beat away Mordauk's blade with his shield, but his partially-stunned arm lacked the strength and coordination to keep it way. Each blow knocked the blade away just a few inches, the blows of a feeble old woman.

Leaning forward to make sure he could be heard over the din of battle, Mordauk said, "Kardardithicus consume you." Then he slit open the Flaming Blade's belly, spilling his intestines across the ground.

Though mostly paralyzed, a moan gurgled up the Flaming Blade's throat as his legs began to quiver.

"I am the destroyer of worlds," Mordauk growled. "Your sept and your _koroc_ will curse your name after I am done with them." Technically by custom, the warrior societies, the _koroc_ , carried no responsibility for the actions of its members unless they were specifically commanded by the high leader, but a new age was dawning on the galaxy. Mordauk would not suffer lightly those that stood between him and his glory.

Mordauk deactivated the stunner-field and let the Flaming Blade collapse to the ground. He glanced around to check the status of the battle and saw that reinforcements had come to the Stormlord's aid. Just a handful of the Fire Clan strike force still stood. Even some of those that no longer stood were being hacked apart. They had violated the warrior code with the rockets and shrapnel.

Rage swelled in Mordauk as he thought about Nuadook. Not only had he defied a request from a Kojo, but he also went as far as breaking the warrior code to succeed. And he likely was the one who sent the Flaming Blade.

Mordauk stepped over to where the Stormlord Gardodadogaur stood with his personal guard, surveying the carnage around them, the shrapnel wounds. One of the Stormlord's commanders railed about seeking revenge for such a cowardly attack. "Stormlord," Mordauk said loudly to get everyone's attention. The commander stopped his tirade, and the Stormlord and everyone in his inner circle paused to hear Mordauk's proclamation. "Let it be known that the Kojo have declared Fire Clan _borgash_ , below contempt. The destruction of Fire Clan is decreed. "

"I understand, Kojo," said Gardodadogaur with a gleam in his eye. They both knew that technically only the Doomsayer could make such a decree, but the coming of the Ninth Avatar was no time for the timid and weak.

And Mordauk knew the Doomsayer would become irrelevant the moment the Ninth Avatar manifested. The coming age would be one where deeds above all else would be a measure of one's worth and one's position.

"Annihilate them all," said Mordauk. "Every last one of them. Let the next hundred generations scatter their ashes."

The Stormlord nodded his great helmed head, but the gleam was gone from his eye.

Mordauk held back a smile. The Stormlord no doubt had hoped to destroy Fire Clan by absorbing it into his own. That was the way of clan warfare for scores of generations, and annihilation probably seemed like insanity to him. He probably wondered what he had got himself into.

A new age was coming, and Gardodadogaur had better prepare himself for it.

Mordauk looked up at the debris streaking through the sky. "But I want their starships intact."

***

Mordauk looked out over the brown, still waters of the Lake of Doom, but he felt nothing special. The lake appeared to be just a stagnant body of water a couple of miles long and several hundred yards wide carved into the orange sandstone. Many Umpala made a pilgrimage here to this site where the human fiend had wreaked such havoc, but it happened several generations before Mordauk had been born. The fiend had destroyed so much, but in the end, the Umpala had proved victorious. As the Eighth Avatar had commanded.

With the coming of the Ninth Avatar, he preferred to look forward instead of backward. What little remained of the humans will become part of the great Umpala empire, or they will be annihilated.

"The data core," said Gardodadogaur as he stepped up to Mordauk's side, holding a long metallic cylinder in both hands.

Mordauk reached out and gently took the object from the Stormlord's hands. Payment for Mordauk's support of Shadow Clan's strike against Fire Clan. Gardodadogaur's prize was probably not as rewarding as he had hoped, having taken heavy casualties. Fire Clan apparently was very quick to embrace the new age, quicker perhaps even than Mordauk, sending attack ships down to strike against Shadow Clan's legions. The warrior code would have to eventually be abandoned in warfare against other races as it had in the Human War, but Mordauk never expected it to be abandoned so easily and quickly in clan warfare. It truly was a new age.

Yet another concern for Mordauk. On top of that, too many starships had been destroyed, and a significant portion of Fire Clan had fled in their remaining starships.

Word had not spread yet, but enemies of the Ninth Avatar had destroyed one of the Umpala's two main shipyard stations. The Urgu, masters of science and technology, had built the shipyard stations, not the Umpala, and when the Seventh Avatar broke Symbiosis between Umpala and Urgu, the ability to replace the stations had been lost. Only one station remained that could supply the Umpala with new starships.

And after today, Mordauk was not too sure about the path towards unification. Nuadook and Fire Clan must have had the support of one of the other Kojo. They would not have so blatantly broken the warrior code unless they knew someone powerful would support them against charges of dishonor. Mordauk would have to rethink his strategy. He had thought he was ahead of the game, but now it appeared that he had rivals willing to embrace the new age even quicker than Mordauk had planned.

Looking now at the human data core, Mordauk hoped it was worth it. "The diviners did not resist?" asked Mordauk. A small cult of diviners watched over this place, proclaiming it sacred and hording the artifacts from the Human War.

Gardodadogaur stared him in the eyes. "The Kojo have decreed annihilation."

Mordauk stared back and tried to fathom what was going on behind the Stormlord's eyes. He hoped Gardodadogaur would not become a liability. Mordauk decided that he would need to invoke more visions later and try to determine if Gardodadogaur was really ready for the new age. Mordauk had apparently linked his fate to Shadow Clan for the time being, and he would have to find another Stormlord if Gardodadogaur was not prepared to embrace the future.

In the meantime, the deaths of the cult would not sit well with some. Many did see this place and the cult's purpose here as sacred. He would have to have good arguments ready to justify their deaths.

No time for the timid and weak, though, Mordauk thought as his mind already began working on the next steps of his plan.

Mordauk stroked the data core. He hoped it was worth all this trouble, but no matter what, a new age was dawning, an age of blood and fire.

END of Malaran – Storm Champion: Book 0

As a bonus, the first third of the next book in the series is included here.

Call to War – Storm Champion: Book 1 begins immediately on the next page.

#  Call to War – Storm Champion: Book 1

#  CHAPTER ONE

_It was at the Crucible upon Niyati that my predecessor first detected the Darkness. Many refused to believe, whispering that the years spent studying the artifacts had twisted her Sight, if not her mind. Others, a minority, argued that the energies surrounding the Crucible could have in fact enhanced her Sight. Both arguments had their merits, and of course more study should have been undertaken. The political realities of that moment, however, forced me to voice my support for the majority. Rubria IX soon fell into a depression and not long after retired to the Collegium Visum priory at Mount Parnassus on Athene, and the Conclave subsequently selected me as Sacrator Primus. In the near term, it was not politically viable to pursue any further study of this Darkness that Rubria claimed to be present, but I had intended to revisit the issue at a later date. But events conspired against me. I have come to suspect that the_ Darkness _conspired against me._

\- Secret Journals of Licinia VII, Sacrator Primus of the Sacerdotes Vacuum (322 to 339 P.D.), recorded 339 P.D. (28 years prior to the Fall of Man.)

The storm continued to brew. And in the middle -- Malaran. Clad in a black hooded cloak, she tread the ancient steps carved into the granite across the desolate gray landscape near the top of Mount Tormenta. She made her way up the peak towards the ancient alien construct known as the Crucible, one of the most important Calistite sites on Nuevo. The purple and gray clouds rumbled around her as the moist wind whipped at her cloak. Strands of her jet black hair fluttered before her jade green eyes.

Always a storm near the Crucible, but Malaran brought her own brewing storm. After five hundred years of relative peace, events had been set into motion. The Umpala, the ancient enemy of humanity, had returned. _One_ of them had returned anyway. On a human starship. The Umpala had long ago smashed humanity's ability to travel the stars, yet a human starship had appeared. And secretly onboard, an Umpala battle-shaman. Before the false Emperor died, he claimed that it was "just the tip of the iceberg." A storm was brewing, but not one yet knew its nature. Malaran just knew that she seemed to be the center of the storm here on Nuevo. And she wasn't sure she how she felt about it.

She glanced around the desolate landscape. Something didn't feel right. Even though her security detail had swept the area before allowing her to approach the peak of Mount Tormenta, it felt like someone watched her. Maybe just nerves. There had been much talk of spies and infiltrators in the weeks since the starship had been captured.

Lightning flashed in the distance as she looked up the ancient steps toward the Crucible. The odd crystalline architecture, fractal-like, seemed to glow in pink and gold hues as its strange matter vibrated beneath the dark clouds. Even a few hundred yards away, she felt the energies. More than just the tingle of electricity in the air, but a full array of forces and energies of the Void that she could feel ringing through her bones. She had studied with the Order of Calista for the last fifteen years and had learned much about the energies of the Void. Father had enrolled her in a Calistite day-school when she was five.

Father was no longer King, though. No longer alive. He died in nuclear fire just a few weeks prior. The millennia-old taboo against humans nuking humans had been broken, and so had Malaran's world. In the end, she had slain her father's killer. Slain the Umpala battle-shaman as well, the stress of being encased in obsidian quickly taking his life. Yet it was not enough.

Malaran paused for a moment to catch her breath when she reached a small plateau in the path up the mountain. These last five years she had lived on Nuevo's vast purple grassland, the _Vastedad Morada_ , and wasn't used to the altitude up here in the highlands. Each breath carried the scent of rain, but so far none had fallen. She looked at the path before her. Tomorrow she didn't know where her path would take her, but today it was the Crucible.

Nobody knew how long the Crucible had stood or it's true purpose. A dozen worlds settled by humans had an identical construct somewhere upon a mountaintop, a bizarre cathedral of crystal and exotic matter, but their makers had left no other traces. The Priestesses of the Void, the _Sacerdotes Vacuum_ , learned long ago that these were places of great energy, but untamed, unbridled energy. Though the Order of Calista had splintered away from the Priestesses, rejecting their pacifism and embracing the arts of war, the Order still adhered to many of the traditions, including the Rite of Ascension that was performed at a Crucible site if at all possible. The Rite was the last step before Invocation — a prerequisite.

With each flash of lightning leaping between the clouds, Malaran peered into the shadows. She still felt someone out there in the twilight. She didn't think it had anything to do with the Rite. Not directly anyway.

Kalima, _Prioress_ _Kalima Maria Varma_ , her teacher, had somehow talked Malaran into completing this step. Or manipulated her into it somehow. Malaran still had strong doubts about actually going through with Invocation and becoming part of the Order, but yet here she was, on Mount Tormenta walking straight towards the Crucible as a storm brewed all around her. She knew she had to do this to keep her options open for the future, but she didn't like anybody plotting her future for her. At one point she had thought joining the Order would have been an escape from all the plotting and scheming that went along with being a member of the royal family, but she, unfortunately, found that the Order had its share of plotting and politics.

And now apparently both her family and the Order had plans for her, though their plans were often in conflict. King Aadi, her brother who inherited the throne after Father's death, and the Order of Calista had fashioned an unsteady alliance after the capture of the starship, the _Menelaus,_ but they argued over how best to use the starship. And how best to use Malaran.

Taking one more deep breath, Malaran began walking toward the ancient steps and the path up the mountain. Then stopped. She felt something odd in the energies surging around her. An unnatural fluctuation maybe. It seemed strange, but possibly more in context with the Rite than her sense of being watched. The Rite was more ritual than true test, but there was danger in the ritual. An acolyte must stand in the cauldron of energies and not be consumed by them. Must know when to deflect energy away and when to bend with it. But she wouldn't be surprised if there were more to the Rite than what the Order let on.

She felt another strange tingle of energy run down her spine, and suddenly the sense of being watched became overpowering. She adjusted her hood and then quickly turned, her eyes rapidly scanning the broken, rocky landscape. But she saw no one.

The _Menelaus_ had been captured, and the crew put under guard, but there were still a lot of questions and a lot of security concerns. Many of the data files had yet to be decrypted, and many of the false emperor's inner circle were missing. There was no telling how many from the starship had been landed on the planet before the starship's capture. There was also much suspicion that spies had somehow infiltrated Nuevo even before the _Menelaus_ had appeared. Perhaps somebody had come after her seeking revenge.

Malaran took a deep breath, focused her mind, and tapped into the dark energies of the Void. She opened a small pinprick, a tiny siphon, but did not yet draw the power. It was easy to open the siphon here near the Crucible, but more difficult to control the stream of energy once it began to flow. The ornamental bracelets around her wrists, scribed with ancient symbols and forged of smart-metal, would draw upon the siphon and spring into the form of a battle staff and small elliptical shield, weapons of the once mighty Agema.

Reaching out with her mind, invoking True-Sight as best as she could, Malaran probed the shadows, her optic nerves harmonizing with the quantum lattice crouched beneath visible reality, scrutinizing the collapsing wave functions. Her skill with the various forms of Sight had improved lately, and she was becoming more proficient invoking these abilities outside of the Oculus Veritatis chamber and its ancient technology. Not as proficient as she would have liked, but she was working on it. If she chose not go through with Invocation, she probably would never again have access to the ancient technology.

She scanned the shadows, but nothing drew her attention. If there were an intruder here, he wouldn't be part of the Rite. When the Order split from the Priestesses of the Void five hundred years ago, when they became warrior mystics rather than pacifists, they adopted the battle forms of the Agema, elite shock troops and praetorian guard of the Emperor of Man, but the Rite predated this split. The Rite was a test of the Void, not of combat.

"Malaran," said a female voice from behind her.

She twitched in shock but quickly recovered, twirling around to face the voice and energizing her bracelets as she spun, sending the coils of smart-metal weaving into battle staff and shield. She spun into the Wind Breaker stance, her shield before her and battle staff above, both exhibiting a faint, midnight-blue sparkle around the edges.

A figure stood before her, of similar height and build as herself. A dark blue cloak heavily embroidered in silvery symbols that Malaran did not recognize hid her face. Malaran couldn't believe this intruder had got so close undetected. She had to be a well-trained Calistite, but what was she doing here?

Just then a torrent of energy flooded into her battle-staff, her focus had wavered for just a moment, and the unbridled energies of the Crucible surged into her weapon. She couldn't control it, and at the last moment, she altered her aim as the weapon fired a large blast of the midnight-blue energy. The energy pulse missed the cloaked figure by just a few inches.

The woman did not even flinch. Instead, she let out a small laugh.

Malaran tried to control her anger as her muscles tensed even tighter. She was embarrassed enough about not being able to control her weapon, and she didn't like to be openly laughed at.

"I wish I had more time to prepare you," the woman said softly with a sigh.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" Malaran demanded.

The woman pulled back her hood a little, revealing a strikingly beautiful face, but a face mostly foreign to Nuevo. Her large, dark eyes were almond shaped, but they were shaped by more than just genetics. She had the very distinct, deep penetrating eyes, eyes that had spent a lifetime peering into the Void. The eyes of a Calistite Elder, a Sacrator Superiore. Yet not the aged face of a Sacrator Superiore. Her face was much younger than Malaran had expected. Among the Calistites it always seemed to be the gray-haired elders who performed the miraculous feats, yet this woman who had got so close undetected appeared to be only about ten years older than Malaran, maybe thirty or so.

"You can call me Qingniao," said the woman with a slightly amused expression on her face. She had the bearing of an Elder, a sense of calm superiority, often seeming slightly amused at the foibles of those inferior. Malaran's father had been High King of all of Nuevo, yet Calistite Elders still maintained that slightly amused demeanor even with him. Her accent seemed strange, though, not from the east coast or west coast.

Malaran relaxed out of the Wind Breaker stance and slid into the At Ease posture, her staff and shield crossed before her. She slightly bowed her head as she addressed the woman, "Sacrator Qingniao, is this part of the Rite?" She hadn't expected anyone else to be part of the ritual.

"No, not Sacrator. Just Qingniao. I was once Sacrator, but that was long ago."

Malaran raised an eyebrow at that, performing her best imitation of her teacher Kalima. She wondered what Qingniao meant by 'long ago.' Malaran still couldn't get over someone that young sneaking up on her so completely. And she wondered what she met by "was once." Malaran never heard of anyone leaving the Order once they went through Invocation. That was one of the reasons Malaran remained so hesitant about going through Invocation herself.

"The Rite matters little," Qingniao continued. "Ritual and ceremony, mostly. Not a true test." Her expression stiffened. "Not like what's coming."

Malaran held back a sigh. She sure sounded like a Calistite Elder with the vague, mysterious foreboding. But she had said that was 'once, long ago.' Who was she now? Malaran did have a slight urge to slide back into a more defensive combat stance, but she wasn't sure that would be a good idea. If Qingniao was a threat, it might provoke a response.

Malaran tried to remain calm and alert as her mind raced and tried to figure out what was going on and how she should deal with Qingniao. It seemed somewhat unnatural for her to demand answers from those deep penetrating eyes that resembled so much the eyes of an Elder, but in that brief moment as her mind raced she could not think of any better plan. "Who are you? Why are you here?"

Qingniao's eyes seemed to penetrate her and size up her soul. "Because you enfolded the Void. Twice."

The bubbles. Malaran had manipulated the Void to form a bubble to protect herself and her friend Leela from the nuclear blast that killed Father and Mother, and she had created a bubble to snare the Umpala battle-shaman. "How do you know about that?"

"Because, my dear, your little displays created ripples in the Void. Especially so close to a nuclear denotation. Certain individuals have the ability to detect those ripples. Even light years away."

Malaran had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had taken some pride in creating those bubbles, but if what Qingniao said was true, then the ramifications could be dire. "The Umpala. Their shaman can detect these ripples?"

A weak smile formed on Qingniao's lips. "Not just the Umpala. Lions, tigers, and bears. Oh, my."

Malaran held a sigh in. Surely if the ripples existed, the Order would know. But nobody mentioned anything to her about ripples in the Void. Nobody told her much, though. Almost never any straight answers. Even Qingniao had just spoken in terms of storybook animals instead of listing the true threats beyond the Umpala.

Qingniao continued, "There is more at stake than just Nuevo. More at stake than the old Empire of Man." Her slight amused expression became ever slightly more amused. "A rather presumptuous title for a small little civilization out here on the Rim."

"Explain it then," said Malaran. "Tell me what's truly happening."

"All in good time," said Qingniao. "If you still live."

Malaran couldn't read her expression as Qingniao said those last words, but she felt a challenge in there somewhere. She shifted her stance, turning sidewise so that she had a narrow profile with her shield between her and Qingniao, but her staff vertical, touching the ground. The Defiant posture. Defensive and non-threatening, but still ready for action.

Qingniao did not react to this change of posture. "Just remember that an enemy of an enemy is not necessarily a friend."

"The Order taught you well to be vague and cryptic," said Malaran with a sour expression on her face.

"And sometimes," said Qingniao ignoring Malaran's remark, "you can't tell your friends from your enemies." Her expression hardened. "At times you must command the Void. Deflecting and bending will not be enough." Qingniao's deep, penetrating eyes focused on a spot behind Malaran. "Malaran Ashoka, Princess of Nuevo, enfolder of the Void, prepare yourself. The enemy is upon you."

Lightning struck very close, temporarily blinding Malaran, and the blast of thunder rang through her ears and through the hard ground and up into her body.

And Qingniao was gone. There was no trace of her.

Malaran took in a deep breath and tried to figure out what just happened. It couldn't have been part of the Rite. Could it?

Malaran turned to see what Qingniao had looked at behind her, to see if something was there or if it had all been part of Qingniao's little performance.

A figure bounded up the ancient steps, maybe a hundred yards back. Malaran could make out the green and black, the colors of the House Ashoka. Malaran sighed. Maybe she wasn't supposed to complete the Rite after all. Maybe it was a sign.

Malaran had left her guard detail a couple of miles back where they landed the flier, and she wondered if the runner brought important news. Malaran had left her comm system behind, worried that the energies here would damage the ancient technology. Maybe Aadi and the Order had come to some agreement, decided to send the _Menelaus_ on some task. Send Malaran on some task.

Or, thinking of Qingniao's last words about the enemy being upon her, maybe another ship had been detected entering the solar system. A chill ran through her body. Aadi's military strategists expected someone to come looking for the _Menelaus_ , but nobody knew what kind of time-frame it might be. Maybe time was up.

Lightning flashed nearby, thunder shaking the ground, the lightning no longer confining itself to the clouds. Ground strikes had begun increasing in frequency.

As the runner got near, Malaran recognized her, an athletic young woman with black hair and dark brown eyes. Leela. A flash of joy surged through Malaran. She couldn't help but smile. It had been several weeks since Malaran had seen her.

But it didn't make any sense for Leela to be here. She had been reassigned. Her best friend, her surrogate big sister, her personal guardswoman for the last five years, had recently been removed from Malaran's guard detail. Under protest from both Malaran and Leela. Aadi had claimed Leela had become too subservient to Malaran, that Leela had become too comfortable letting a twenty-year-old princess make her own security decisions.

Malaran was still pretty angry about it. A princess didn't have many real friends to begin with, and being a pawn in grand schemes sure didn't help. She had come to realize that all of Father's scheming probably had a lot to do with how isolated and lonely she felt at times. And now Aadi was continuing the tradition. Maybe they just didn't want her to have friends so that nobody else could influence her.

She was sure that, if nothing else, Aadi wanted his own guards, his own babysitters, looking after the _Anax-Hema_ , the genetic marker written into Malaran's DNA that, five hundred years after the Fall of Man, was supposedly the key to power for anyone who would claim the Emperor's chair.

Whatever was going on, it must be important if Leela came all this way, but Malaran's racing mind couldn't figure out a good reason why Leela would be here now.

Malaran took a deep breath and focused her mind. Maybe Qingniao's sudden appearance and disappearance rattled her more than she wanted to admit, and maybe she was just paranoid. But with Leela still about thirty yards away, Malaran invoked True-Sight, using her mental training to harmonize her senses with wave patterns of the Void.

Malaran froze. As she looked at Leela jogging the granite steps, True-Sight exaggerated everything wrong in the scene -- Leela's gate, the bob of her head, the movement of her eyes, all of it. This wasn't Leela. Not the one she had known for five years.

The enemy _was_ upon her — just yards away.

#  CHAPTER TWO

_Our planets change us more than what some like to admit. Some point to the so-called_ _"_ _Cultural Reawakening_ _"_ _that occurred prior to the Second Dispersion, where someone could almost arbitrarily decide that he was descended from ancient Macedonian kings and even genetically change his ethnic characteristics to align. I do not deny that this was a significant development in our history, but I think there is more to the story._ _It's_ _even more than different air or different gravity._ _It's_ _a different crucible. The people of my home-world of Niyati are different than the people that originally settled here. Nuevo will change us again._

\- Archives of Lord Dakshu Pran Ashoka, High Chancellor of the Empire of Man (from 354 to 367 P.D.)

Though his battle harness limited his mobility, Taldageron Devdan managed to peek forward into the command deck and occasionally catch a glimpse out a window. He had wanted to be a pilot his whole life, and this was the first time he had ever got to fly. He tried to enjoy the moment, especially since it might be one of his last. The assault shuttle buffeted around, coming in hot and expecting to take fire. Very soon Taldageron would be expected to charge out of the shuttle and _into_ the incoming fire. A rebel base had been discovered that was believed to have been aiding the pretend-emperor who came on the starship, the monster who had nuked Nuevo.

Taldageron was tall and broad-shouldered, working a farm on the edge of the Vastedad Morada chiseled the body before it eventually broke it, but he felt like a child next to all the Royal Marines around him decked out in camouflage battle gear. It didn't help that he had never done anything like this before, while the Marines acted like this was old hat, chatting and cracking jokes.

Nobody chatted with him, though. They didn't know him. And they thought he was an officer. He had the look. The look of a noble. He had the right features, hair so dark it was nearly black, high cheekbones, a slightly dark complexion, but his granny had always said it was his eyes that sealed the deal. Many of the Niyatian nobles, descended from old families on Niyati itself, had either gray eyes or green eyes, but blue-green was rare. It had a certain cachet.

The thing was, he could even pass for a _hildago_ with his eyes. Ages ago, long before the _Colonistas_ came to Nuevo, the hildagos had genetically modified their eyes to be dark blue, to set them apart from the peasants.

The truth was, though, he was far from noble-blooded on either side of his family. His color was just a freak of nature. His father actually was a Colonista _,_ but definitely not a hildago _._ His father was the one though that had insisted that Taldageron uses his mother's surname, Devdan. Discrimination still existed against the Colonistas, even those whose families long ago swore fealty to House Ashoka.

His lack of noble blood didn't stop him from impersonating a noble on occasion. Particularly since nobility was a _de facto_ requirement for flight school. Only a few dozen flying craft still operated on Nuevo before the arrival of the _Menelaus_ , and only the nobles were allowed to fly them. Impersonating a noble is what landed him in this particular predicament, getting ready to storm a rebel base with a shuttle full of Marines.

He had paid the right people to be rather lack-a-daisical about looking into his background at the flight school. Various noble families fell on hard times over the centuries, so it wasn't so rare to encounter a less-than-wealthy nobleman not so eager to bring scrutiny to his family's financial affairs and other matters. But once the starship came, everything changed. Lax security was no longer tolerated.

"Thirty seconds!" shouted Captain Avangar as the shuttle began to maneuver defensively, zigging and zagging. The captain stood at the entry to the command deck and watched their descent with his own eyes. The open hatch enabled Taldageron to catch some peeks out the window too. It was probably a breach of protocol for the command deck not to be sealed, but Captain Avangar wasn't one of the Marines either. He was a captain in the _Suraskar_. The secret police. And for the foreseeable future, he was Taldageron's lord and master.

Like Taldageron, Captain Avangar was dressed like a Marine in full camouflaged battle garb, but he played the role much better. The big, burly man with grey eyes and dark brown hair had a big, square jaw and just looked like he had led many assaults in his time.

In the brief peeks out the forward window, Taldageron caught glimpses of their destination, one of the mystical _Phulavana_ forests, an incredible sight from the air. From above, it did look something like a flower garden, though some of the "flowers" were over a hundred feet in diameter atop stem or stalk structures, some close to a hundred yards tall. This Phulavana draped over the rugged foothills of the _Montanas Nubladas_ , and Taldageron saw in its midst a large waterfall pouring over a bare cliff several hundred yards tall.

The lights dimmed in the assault shuttle and changed from white to red. They would encounter low light conditions as soon as the doors opened. It was approaching dusk outside, and they would be setting down in the shadow of the Phulavana.

Adrenaline flowed through Taldageron as he checked his pulse rifle one last time. There was no way he would have ever dreamed of ending up where he was at this moment, but things had changed so much when the starship had come. The Suraskar had forced him to become an operative after they discovered him impersonating a noble at flight school. He was leery of what would be asked of him, but today, his first mission, he didn't have any qualms. The invaders had used nuclear weapons against fellow humans, and whoever aided these invaders deserved to be punished.

"Ten seconds!" shouted Captain Avangar. The Marines were quiet now, focused and ready.

"With me, Shvank," said Captain Avangar as he stepped to Taldageron's side. 'Shvank' had become Taldageron's cover name in the Suraskar. Taldageron thought it might have derogatory meaning in one of the old tongues, but most Niyatians had forgotten the old tongues long before they even came to Nuevo. The Colonistas, even those loyal to Ashoka, tended to remain bilingual. That was one of the reasons the Suraskar had made him an offer he couldn't refuse — they thought they could use a pretend noble who was also fluent in the Colonistas' old tongue.

The shuttle bumped down, and the three exits sprang open, one in the back and one on either side. The Marines poured out, their pulse rifles ready at their shoulders.

His heart pounding in his ears, Taldageron imitated the Marines' form the best he could as he exited the shuttle. He had very little training at this sort of thing. That was probably the main reason he was here. To 'season' him.

He trotted down the gangplank with his rifle ready and scoured his surroundings, forcing himself to take regular breaths. The sun was well on the edge of the Phulavana canopy, casting long shadows. A large wooden structure, maybe some kind of processing facility, backed up to the forest near the waterfall. Pockets of gray smoke seemed to hang in the air near the structure. Quite a few bodies littered the ground, some smoldering.

The air was filled with various scents from the gray smoke and the smoldering bodies and possibly even the flowering structures way above, certain whiffs kind of pleasant while others repulsive. The air also had a chill to it. They were much further north than Taldageron had ever gone, up where other plants and trees had a fighting chance against the purple grass. The purple grass's dominance tended to falter at the edges of the continent.

The Marines had fanned out in all directions, glancing down at the bodies as they passed by to make sure no threat remained. The bodies had fallen before the Marines had even arrived.

Taldageron glanced up at the canopy high above. Rumor had it that religious cults lived up in the canopy of massive flowers, breathing in the spores and gases and having mind-altering visions. He wasn't sure who they worshiped, though. He thought somebody once said it was flower spirits, while somebody else claimed it was the spirits of ancient flying insects, the mega-aerodons, giant blimp-like creatures that used to inhabit the planet hundreds of thousands of years ago. As he took in the perspective from the ground a hundred yards below, he couldn't image climbing up there. The cultists would have to be pretty dedicated.

Pulses of blue light flashed near the tree line as soft booms rang through the air. Pulse rifle fire. The Marines were firing on somebody.

Many of the Marines converged on the area, and with a huge blast of adrenaline, Taldageron started to join them.

"With me, Shvank," came Captain Avangar's voice over the comm system in his ear.

Taldageron glanced back to see the captain heading towards a fallen body. Taldageron looked towards the point where many of the Marines were converging. He felt a strong compulsion to charge over and engage too. There was so much adrenaline surging through his system, his heart pounding in his ears, and it just seemed like the right thing to do. He would defend his homeworld against people that would destroy it.

"Double time!" Captain Avangar shouted through the comm.

Taldageron glared at the captain for a brief moment before trotting over. He had been nervous before, but now he wanted to do something. What was the point of giving him a pulse rifle and having him charge out of an assault shuttle if he was just going to hang back and let the Marines do all the work?

He was shocked though when he glanced down at the body. The man had mocha colored skin with short, thick violet hair. One of the Lake People. The Miangaza.

Taldageron had never seen one before in person. They hadn't come to Nuevo from Niyati like most of the refugees during the Fall of Man, and over the centuries they had maintained an isolated, separate society. Pretty much the only refugee group that achieved such isolation. The Cosaks and the Boltamen maintained mostly self-contained societies but tended to involve themselves in outside affairs and politics to varying degrees. The Lake People had signed a pact recognizing the full sovereignty and authority of House Ashoka, and then pretty much kept to themselves for five centuries, avoiding getting drawn into any of the rebellions or other wars.

"What's he doing here?" Taldageron asked. The Miangaza lived on islands and boats on the _Gran Lago Salado_ , a very large salt-lake a few hundred miles to the west of their current location.

"Curiouser and curiouser," mused Captain Avangar.

The dead man had severe burns over much of his body, but not the impact damage that came with pulse fire. But perhaps that was because of the armor. The areas that were still intact looked like hard plastic plates, painted a very dark purple, affixed to his black under-suit. Probably thermal tiles. He had worn a long black coat over the top, but it was mostly burned away.

"Have the Lake People sided with the rebels?" asked Taldageron. His father's people, the Colonistas, had always seemed to get caught in the middle and suffered the most whenever there was a rebellion. He couldn't believe the Lake People would finally break their isolation to come down on the side of those that had nuked humans.

"Actually, it looks like they were assaulting this location. They beat us here," said Captain Avangar. "Not sure why. Still a treaty violation, though." He stood up and looked around, pondering the scene. "Shit!" he said suddenly and started running towards the tree line. The Marines had mostly swarmed into the forest by now, flashes of blue light dancing among the trees.

Taldageron felt another surge of adrenaline as he ran after him. He wished he could hear the comm traffic to find out what was going on, but Avangar had him on a short leash, only allowing certain channels through.

He followed Avangar, running hard to keep up, and felt himself almost unconsciously hold his breath as plunged past the "tree" line into the dark forest. Even regular trees were sparse back home, never this large, it was like entering an alien world to suddenly be surrounded by these towering things of the Phulavana, especially with the weird lighting effects. Somehow some of the sunlight still hitting the flowering structures up top was being channeled through, sort of like stained glass. It did give a somewhat mystical, eerie glow to the place, especially up high. It was still fairly dark down on the ground, but Taldageron could still kind of see a few feet in front of him.

Avangar didn't seem too fazed by it all, and he did a pretty good job of picking a path through the trunks.

Taldageron tried to follow his lead, but he stumbled a few times, though never falling all the way to the ground. They seemed to be getting closer to the action, the booms growing louder and flashes of blue light becoming more intense.

Suddenly Taldageron tripped and fell hard to the ground. He glanced up to see that Avangar wasn't waiting for him, not even pausing as he pushed forward towards the battle.

As Taldageron picked himself up off the ground, he jolted as he suddenly realized what had tripped him. A body. A dead Marine. The body wasn't burned but had several gaping wounds.

Taldageron looked around, trying to orientate himself and find the path that Captain Avangar had followed. He could still hear the battle and see the flashing lights, but the battle seemed to be moving away. There were also so many trees between him and there. He just wasn't as adept at picking a path through the trees, but he started heading in the direction of the moving battle.

His pulse rifle had a light on the end, but he wasn't sure if he was supposed to use it or not. It would make it a lot easier to see where he was going and avoid tripping, but it might make him a target. Avangar had not used his light, so that kind of made up his mind. He would risk tripping to avoid being shot at. Though to be honest, he hadn't seen anybody returning fire. Just the blue pulses fired by the Marines.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something bright off to his side. He spun and brought his pulse rifle up, scanning the darkness. A red light shone, maybe a few dozen yards away. At first, he thought it might have been the light source from a pulse rifle, a Marine deciding that not tripping was worth the danger, but then he realized there was two light sources side by side. Like red, glowing eyes.

Taldageron started working his way in the opposite direction, keeping a close watch on those red lights. He was ready to charge at the enemy, but for some reason, the thought of running into a predator at home in this alien world of the Phulavana made him nervous. _Panteras_ , giant six-legged felines, supposedly prowled what forests existed on Nuevo. There were stories of other creatures that preyed in the deep Phulavana, so deadly that no human had ever lived to recount their description.

They were all like fairy tales to him, never actually having been in a forest, but the Phulavana spawned stories even more fantastic, not just "like" fairy tales but actual fairy tales. Tales of all kinds of strange beings and phantoms and ghosts. Even granny would tell stories of the _duendes_ that lived in the Phulavanas, but as far as he knew nobody in his family had ever even seen one of the Phulavana forests with their own eyes.

Mythical ghosts and _duendes_ didn't bother him, but he didn't want to run into any wild animal out here, completely out of his element. He had heard of animals at night seeming to have glowing eyes, but it was very unnerving to see it in person. Especially when you didn't know what was behind those eyes.

As he slowly worked his way away from the two red lights, he noticed that they were moving towards him. They definitely looked like eyes the way they moved in unison. He just couldn't help but imagine a _pantera_ out there, just under six feet tall at the shoulder. Stalking him.

Taldageron realized that even if he headed back out towards the tree line, he wouldn't make it out of the forest before his stalker caught up with him. Instead, he started looking for a good spot to make his stand. He crouched behind a thick tree trunk and brought his pulse rifle around the side to aim at the red, glowing eyes.

The eyes kept coming.

His heart was pounding away again. He could feel his pulse in his trigger finger.

"Delta," he shouted the 'friend-or-foe' code word. 'Omicron' was the correct reply.

No reply came.

The eyes continued to come, though.

Taldageron brought his thumb up and rested it on the button to activate the light at the end of his rifle. He would flash on the light before he fired, giving him a chance to identify his target at the last instant. And maybe suddenly having a light in its face would stun whatever it was that was out there.

The eyes edged closer. Maybe thirty feet now.

Taldageron pressed himself closer to the tree trunk and held his breath.

The eyes came another few feet closer.

Taldageron pressed the light button.

The creature was much, much worse than he imagined. A huge _pantera's_ body, but with a nightmarish insect head, and beneath its red glowing eyes its mandibles gnashing laterally instead of vertically, large enough to bite him in half.

He pulled the trigger again and again. Blue energy pulses shot out, but they seemed to glance of the creature's body while causing minimal damage.

The creature leaped forward, its large mandibles reaching out to snap up Taldageron.

At the last instant, Taldageron thrust his rifle forward to block the mandibles, but the creature snapped shut on the rifle and instantly jerked its head sideways, ripping the gun from Taldageron's hands and flinging it away.

Then the creature turned its head back to Taldageron, its glowing red eyes just a few feet away.

Taldageron looked into its eyes, desperately trying to come up with some idea.

Then the creature shot forward.

Taldageron stumbled backward and fell onto his back.

The red eyes shot towards him, but then suddenly stopped just a few feet from his own eyes.

As Taldageron laid on his back, holding his breath as he stared into those glowing red eyes, he abruptly noticed a glowing purple light behind him. That must have caught the creature's attention too, must have been what had caused it to pause in its attack.

Then the purple light darted off through the woods.

The creature with the glowing red eyes did not hesitate and leaped after it, one of its _pantera_ legs pushing off of Taldageron's left shoulder and forcing him to muffle a yell. Not only did the creature weigh a lot, but its claws punched into his flesh like knives. He did his best not to react until the creature had run off after the purple light, not wanting the creature to change its mind to pursue easier prey.

"Crap," said Taldageron as he tested his wounded shoulder. He struggled to get to his feet, and just as he got upright, a purple glow suddenly erupted in front of him. This time, it was more than just light, though -- a figure stood there wrapped in the glow. A _duende_. A phantom of the Phulavana.

After the Second Dispersion, humankind had discovered evidence of several apparently extinct or long-vanished alien races, but as far as Taldageron knew, contact had been made with only a handful of intelligent species. And now Taldageron wondered if he encountered another.

The glowing being appeared humanoid, in many ways appearing like that of a teenage girl, short and lithe, but her eyes were too large and too black to be human. And Taldageron wasn't aware of any humans that glowed in the dark. And yet, other than the eyes and the purple glow, she could pass as human. She had long wispy hair and wore some kind of simple fabric dress. And five toes on each bare foot. Taldageron wondered what the odds were that an alien would so resemble humans.

"Taldageron Ramon Devdan," whispered the _duende_ in a musical voice, though her expression was sad.

He recognized his name, but either her accent was odd or the musicality of her speech made it seem odd.

"The Darkness has come," she said in Universal, but speaking in the same oddly-accented, musical voice. "The gardens are in jeopardy. All is in jeopardy."

Taldageron felt mesmerized staring into those big, black eyes while she gave off a purple glow in the middle of the dark Phulavana forest.

"Your path takes you further into the Darkness," said the _duende_. "I see the possibilities."

Then the purple light winked out, and Taldageron stood alone in the forest.

#  CHAPTER THREE

_All but the most stubborn have accepted that the fact that the Darkness is real. Some of our most gifted have worked tirelessly for years to penetrate it, and they believe finally they have begun to catch brief glimpses of what is shrouded. They believe that we may not be alone, that perhaps other beings also resist the Darkness. Let us hope, for we have also glimpsed the Enemy within._

\- Journals of Aemilia XVII, Sacrator Primus of the Sacerdotes Vacuum (673 to 698 P.D.), recorded on the refuge world of Mokupuni in 691 P.D. (331 years after the Fall of Man.)

How could someone disguise herself as Leela so well? It didn't seem possible. Without the aid of True-Sight, this impostor would look just like Leela.

Opening up the siphon into the Void, gripping staff and shield tighter, Malaran's heart raced, but she didn't know what to do. Attack now? Wait and see what this was all about?

The false Leela slid from a jog into a walk about thirty feet away, smiling and raising a hand in salute.

Malaran watched her movements closely, waiting for an attack, the True-Sight still active, still revealing this person before her to be nothing more than a caricature of Leela.

"Leela," Malaran said with no need to feign her real surprise. "I thought your battalion was on alert. Elsewhere."

The false Leela shrugged. "They needed someone special to courier over this message."

The words hurt Malaran's ears, grating and disharmonious as True-Sight manifested in all of her senses, the falsity of Leela's mimicked voice amplified. But the content of her words did not register as false.

"What message?" Malaran asked.

The false Leela smiled as she casually brushed a stray hair from her forehead. "You are too much of a wildcard, too much of a liability."

Before Malaran could register a thought, lightning struck her, blowing her off her feet, forcing her to use every ounce of will to bend the charge, to use the other forces of the Void flowing through her to channel and dissipate the electrical charge before it could do too much damage. Before it could consume her.

In many ways, it was what the Rite was all about, what Malaran had come here for -- to embrace the forces of the Void and remain unconsumed. But she somehow knew that the false Leela had somehow directed the lightning at her.

Malaran rolled across the hard ground and came up on a knee, and aimed her staff at the False-Leela. With all the energies of the Void charging the very air, the end of Malaran's staff quickly glowed midnight-blue with all the pent-up forces.

False-Leela hadn't moved, and she just looked disdainfully at Malaran's energy weapon. "History has buried the Agema and their battle-staffs," said False-Leela.

Malaran unleashed the forces focused into her battle-staff, firing a pulse of the dark energy right at False-Leela.

False-Leela raised her hand just as the energy blasted out of Malaran's staff, and the pulse struck False-Leela's hand and just dissipated. Gone without a trace. She smiled at Malaran. "Princess," said False-Leela, though as speaking to an entertaining child rather than to royalty. "I knew it was kind of a long shot that you're the one we're looking for, yet I still expected more out of you. Something to justify the suspicion at least. Something to justify my journey to this little backwater planet."

Malaran opened up the siphon into the Void and began firing pulses in rapid succession, aiming at different parts of False-Leela's body with each shot, trying to get past her defenses. False-Leela's moved her hand back and forth, drawing in each burst of energy before it impacted her body.

False-Leela smirked as she glanced briefly down at her unblemished hand that had stopped Malaran's attacks cold. She made a gesture like flicking crumbs from her fingers. "You pampered little princess. Nothing but a pretend warrior. "

Rage seethed through Malaran. Her whole life she had known there had always been whispers about the Calistite trainers taking it easy on her because of her royalty. She had to constantly prove that she wasn't a "pampered princess." She opened the siphon into the Void further, bringing more energy into her staff. Her immediate thought was to blast this intruder with an even bigger pulse of energy.

But before the energy could be summoned, False-Leela pointed her finger at Malaran and said, "Only the strong and mighty will prevail in the new galactic order." Red lightning shot out from False-Leela's hand.

Malaran tried to block it with her shield, with the energies of the Void undulating through its smart-metal skeleton. The red energy blasted into the shield and threw her whole body backward as the red lightning curled around her shield and tried to engulf her. Again she willed the other energies of the Void forward to channel and divert the energy bound in the red lightning before it consumed her body.

Intense pain lit up Malaran's nerve endings, feeling the fire as the red lightning tried to devour her. She let out a silent scream as she bent the energies of the Void and forced the fire back, stopping the incineration but not the agony.

Focusing her mind, Malaran rolled to her feet once again and sprung back into a defensive posture, the Wind Breaker, unconsumed but still stinging.

Her jaw almost dropped though when her mind finally registered what her eyes were showing her. The Leela caricature was gone.

False-Leela had been replaced by some creature, some bipedal insect beast, dark chitin body plates with jagged, pointed edges and with long, jointed arms. Some monster out of nightmares. As Malaran looked into its two bulbous eyes, glowing red, she realized the creature appeared just as much humanoid as an insect, some demonic hybrid.

Malaran leaped forward, firing her staff, and charged directly at the beast. Maybe this creature will have more trouble dealing with the energy blasts if she shoved her staff through its chest first. She had trained most of her life to fight the bigger, stronger Umpala in close combat, and maybe this monster that could shoot lightning from its fingers will be unprepared for direct physical strikes.

As she prepared to leap and go into a strike using one of the ancient _kata_ , battle forms, of the Agema, the creature raised both hands before it, splaying its humanoid, yet chitinous fingers, and a storm of red lightning erupted into a virtual wall between Malaran and her foe.

Focusing her mind, calling in the energies of the Void that sizzled in the air around her, she tried to cleave a path through the red storm, but as she impacted the wall, she was repelled. Thrown back at least ten feet, again sent rolling across the hard ground as the red lightning burned at her nerves.

"You must command the Void," whispered a voice in her head. Qingniao's voice.

Malaran took a deep breath as she came back up onto her feet. She had thrown everything she had at this creature, and nothing had come close to working.

Twice before, in desperation, she had been able to rend open up the pinprick into the Void and shape it into a bubble, a protective enclosure that isolated her from normal space-time. But she didn't know if it would be a good idea know with all the talk of ripples. And so much energy pulsed and rippled through the air here, unbridled and unfocused. Raw. Even if she somehow was able to summon a bubble yet again, she didn't think she could maintain it in the maelstrom of forces at play here.

"Seriously," thundered the creature's deep, inhuman voice, "your kind of pathetic, little princess."

Red lightning shot from the creature's hands once again, but Malaran stepped aside just as it sizzled through the air near her ear, barely missing. She had somehow sensed it coming. She had not consciously invoked Fore-Sight, too distracted with everything else, yet her body had reacted as though it knew what was coming. Maybe she had a chance against this demon after all.

"Well," said the creature, "I guess that's better than nothing."

"Command the Void," whispered Qingniao's voice. "Don't avoid it."

"Easy for you to say," said Malaran. Avoiding the red lightning seemed like a much better idea than not avoiding it.

"Command it," whispered Qingniao's voice. "Or all is lost."

The point of the Rite was not to be consumed by the energies of the Void, but that was a little different than catching lightning and flinging it back. She wasn't sure anybody could do that. But she didn't seem to have many other options.

She bolted for the creature, charging once again, bringing her shield and staff around preparing to execute another battle form.

The demon brought up both its overly long insectoid arms, invoking the wall of red lightning once again.

At the last instant, instead of trying to crash through this time, Malaran, dropped shield and staff and thrust her hands into the storm of flickering and pulsating red energy.

Malaran screamed. Her hands burst into fire, almost unbelievable pain.

But she did not withdraw them. She drew the red energy in, the pain and agony spreading to her entire body. Again she called upon the other energies sizzling and pulsing within storm clouds all about her, using these other forces to corral and channel the red energy.

She stepped forward, bringing her entire body into the red squall, flame erupting all about her. But she would not allow her body to be consumed.

The creature let out an inhuman high-pierced scream, some demonic bellow that seemed to ring through the ground and the clouds. "You cannot stand, little princess."

The red storm of lightning, the wall of crackling energy, intensified even further. The pain and agony intensified further. The energy pulsing and vibrating through her body intensified further.

She screamed again as her feet ignited, bursting into flame. She knew she would lose consciousness soon, had to do something soon.

"Calista!" she screamed, the ancient battle-cry of the Calistites, throwing her burning hands forward, trying to unleash all the boiling energy that threatened to immolate her.

Red lightning, blue lightning, all the colors of the rainbow, erupted forth and struck the creature, hundreds of lightning bolts sizzling and flickering between Malaran and the creature.

The creature screamed again, shaking the ground, and lightning rained down from the sky as Malaran lost consciousness.

#  CHAPTER FOUR

_The Emperor and I have kept many details of the Phoenix Initiative hidden from the Mega Oikogeneia. We had to_ _,_ _of course_ _,_ _reveal the general aspects of our rebuilding plan to convince the other Great Houses that biding time on the Refuge Worlds and avoiding provoking the Umpala would be in everyone's best interest, but if they were ever to learn the full extent of our plans, the full extent of our desperation, most would likely question our wisdom while some, perhaps many, would openly rebel. Desperate times call for desperate measures, however. We will just have to do everything in our power to prevent the High Council of learning just how extreme our measures have become._

\- Archives of Lord Dakshu Pran Ashoka, High Chancellor of the Empire of Man (from 354 to 367 P.D.)

Aboard the Fleet Raider _Bloody Knife_ , Mordauk, one of the elite Kojo among the Umpala diviners, sat in his private quarters in a trance, summoning the energy of the Gorhah, the hidden reality. He led a small fleet of ships in pursuit of Naudook and the remnants of Fire Clan. Things had not gone to plan on Athene. Against his express orders as a member of the Sacred Ring, Naudook, Stormlord of the Fire Clan, had fought stubbornly to hold Athene against Shadow Clan, even abandoning the Warrior Code in the process. And someone had even sent an assassin directly against Mordauk, one of the Kojo. He couldn't imagine even Naudook going that far unless he had backing from another of the Kojo.

Mordauk sat within a circle scribed on the stone tiles, the stone from Torkak a luxury reserved for special passengers aboard the _Bloody Knife_. About the circle stood several statuettes made of bone, blackstone, and gold depicting the various Avatars through the ages. Around the crown of his head, the intricate red metal coronet crafted by the Urgu vibrated with mystical energies as it aided his mind in exploring the Gorhah. Mordauk attempted now to commune with emissaries of the Ninth Avatar.

The _Bloody Knife_ had practically become his personal ship, ferrying him on his errands as he prepared for the coming of the Ninth Avatar. Since re-embracing the Warrior Code after the Human War, the Umpala had no longer considered Fleet Raiders and Doom Raiders to be respectable ships for warfare, and only the Kojo, those supposedly above Clan politics, could commandeer and use these vessels that for the most part had been mothballed after the war. The Umpala never really liked large space battles where the combat often tended to mainly pit computer against computer instead of warrior against warrior, but they were forced to adapt during the Human War, building starships like Fleet Raiders and Doom Raiders designed to fight the huge capital ships of the humans.

Along with the _Bloody Knife_ , Mordauk brought with him a squadron of the more traditional Raiders, the preferred warship of the Umpala clans. Raiders were smaller than the Fleet Raiders and Doom Raiders, but with their stasis pods, they could transport anywhere form half a legion to sometimes even a full legion in each ship. Mordauk had commandeered several legions and Raiders from Gardodadogaur, Stormlord of Shadow Clan, but he wasn't sure he would need the legions, though. Naudook had already broken the Warrior Code repeatedly, and Mordauk didn't plan to play any games when he caught up with him. He would use the superior firepower of the _Bloody Knife_ to pound Naudook into dust. It might not sit well with the other Clan leaders or with the other Kojo, but Mordauk intended to stay ahead of the curve from now on as the Warrior Code began to crumble and everyone came to grips with the new galactic order. Much better to defend one's actions before the Kojo than be the fool staring up in surprise as your entrails spill all over the ground.

Unfortunately, for the moment Naudook seemed to remain further ahead of the curve than himself. Or whomever Naudook plotted with was. The only thing Mordauk could surmise was that another Kojo had struck a deal with Naudook, much like Mordauk's maneuvering of Shadow Clan. He just had no clue yet who it would be or what their plan was. It did shake his ego a little. He thought himself much cleverer than the other Kojo.

What troubled him the most, though, was he couldn't conceive of another Kojo having any interest in Athene or the human data cores. Not on their own. Mordauk's own interest had been directed there by a higher power.

Naudook's interest might mean that a higher power was aiding his enemies as well.

Mordauk hummed the ancient rhythms and watched dreamily as his mind left the _Bloody Knife_ and peered into the Gorhah. Visions attempted to blossom around him, visions of future glory and visions of doom, but he pushed these aside. Today he came not for mystical visions but to commune directly with Kalgardithicus, one of the great beings that roamed the Gorhah and served the Ninth Avatar.

"Kalgardithicus," he roared into the dreamscape. "I summon you."

Mordauk felt the ice burn in his lungs and the tips of his fingers. The great being was near. Mordauk shivered once as the ancient cold enveloped his body, and then he focused his mind to shed the pain and discomfort.

The fuzzy dreamscape of thousands of unformed visions rolled back as a crystal clear reality imposed itself — a bright, dune-covered landscape, few shadows escaping the three yellow suns, a world which looked as though it should be unbearably sweltering hot but always proved bitterly cold to Mordauk. Before his mind's eye, stood upright the mighty Kalgardithicus, a giant fifty yards tall, half-Umpalanoid, half-millipede. His long body curved back and forth up its length, thousands of insect arms quickly undulating while his two huge Umpalanoid legs anchored him upright to the ground. His massive Umpalanoid arms lay crossed against his chest, seeming to beckon challenge to the cosmos. His head, his face, both insectoid and Umpalanoid at the same time while the large, bulbous eyes seemed to glow with a dull red light.

A deep, thunderous voice that shook the ground said, "I answer your summons, Mordauk of the Umpala, brethren of the Kojo. What news do you bring today?"

Mordauk focused his mind to stop his body from shivering, the coldness at the verge of taking his breath away. "Shadow Clan has pushed Fire Clan from Athene, and I have captured the human data cores," he said. "However, the Stormlord of Fire Clan resisted beyond all reason, and it appears that he must have allied with one of my brethren among the Kojo. They seem to have had designs on the human data cores as well, and they seem intent on interfering."

Mordauk paused and waited to see if Kalgardithicus would respond to such news. The great being had become his patron, his suggestions setting in motion Mordauk's attempt to seize his destiny.

After a moment of no response, Mordauk sighed to himself. The great being sometimes seemed eager to discuss plans for the future, and at other times he seemed totally disinterested. Mordauk wasn't getting a good feeling today.

Mordauk continued, "I thought perhaps you could divine who among my brethren in the Sacred Ring plotted against us."

A thunderous laugh shook the ground. "Mordauk, none of your brethren dare plot against _me_."

A twinge of anger shot through Mordauk. He expected the great being to be condescending. Why would a fifty-yard-tall god be anything less? But laughter was different, for whatever reason. It grated Mordauk.

Mordauk tried to steady his voice. "Mighty Kalgardithicus. None of my brethren may be foolish enough to plot against you, but one does plot against _me_. If you could divine who among the Kojo it is, I could accomplish my plans, and thus _our_ plans, much sooner."

A soft rumble, a mild chuckle, reverberated through the dunes. "Mordauk, they all plot against you. Even the Doomsayer himself." Then the voice changed, becoming more serious and deeper. "If you truly desire the power and the glory, you must defeat all who stand in your way. Even the Kojo. Even the Doomsayer. The Ninth Avatar will reward the strong and the brave, while the timid and weak will be ground to dust."

The chill almost overpowered Mordauk as his heart pound in his chest, not just from the cold, but from the excitement. Kalgardithicus had given his blessing to move against the Doomsayer himself.

"Perhaps," said Mordauk, trying to keep both the excitement and the shiver out of his voice, "if I knew what was so special about those human data cores..."

Kalgardithicus's mood turned darker. "An abomination has touched the Gorhah. A mechanical mind. One I believe to be built by the humans, left over from the war and hidden away."

Mordauk shivered again, but not from the cold. Artificial intelligences _were_ abominations. A cold, heartless machine with no fire, no passion, that yet pretended to live. "The fire of battle forged the soul," declared the First Avatar. A machine could experience no glory in victory, nor no despair in defeat, could never enrich their spirit through combat. Could never even have a spirit. Mordauk couldn't believe a machine had touched the Gorhah. That truly was an abomination if it had learned to interact with the Gorhah. He hadn't thought that possible.

He was also surprised that the humans would have built such an abomination. The humans seemed to have their own taboos against the abominations. He knew, though, that defeat, just the threat of defeat, could quickly change one's mindset. The Umpala had quickly abandoned the Warrior Code in the Human War, and already they began to abandon it again as the time of the Ninth Avatar approached. The abominations were one of the reasons the Umpala never liked space battles. The temptation to use smarter and smarter computers could push one over the edge and bring an abomination into being. But there had been no evidence that the humans had gone so far during the war. It had been a concern among the Kojo back then during the war, that the humans might unleash an abomination even if just by accident, but no indications of it had been detected.

It did make him wonder though if those strange pulsations in the Gorhah that had been detected recently might be related to this abomination. Some of the diviners pointed to the human worlds as the origin of the pulsations. Mordauk never considered the pulsations that big of concern himself, especially coming from the battered and broken human worlds, but the presence of an abomination, especially one that could actually touch the Gorhah, that was another matter. Humans seemed to be stirring again.

"Command me, almighty Kalgardithicus," said Mordauk.

The portion of Kalgardithicus's long millipede body that hung below his Umpalanoid legs slithered like a long tail in big sweeping arcs in the sand dunes. Each time a swath of sand was disturbed, a frenzy of insect creatures hidden just beneath the surface would dig deeper into the sand to avoid the light of day. His godly voice boomed out the words, "bring the data cores to Baltathigard so that they may be searched for more information about the abomination. Proceed first to Nuevo and retrieve a key to help unlock the artifacts."

"Nuevo?" said Mordauk in mild surprise. "The remnants of Fire Clan are headed to Nuevo as we speak. I've been in pursuit. Again, they seem to be one step ahead of me." He took care not to say, "one step ahead of _us,_ " but it was definitely what he was thinking. At the moment, he and Naudook were both but pawns of higher powers, and Naudook's master seemed to be a step ahead.

"It may appear to be so," reverberated Kalgardithicus's voice through the ground, "but the human world of Nuevo draws storm-clouds of various shades. A storm brews with the energies of many antagonists, many schemes."

Mordauk held back a sigh. He had enough experience communing with Kalgardithicus to interpret certain meanings. Phrases such as "storm-clouds of various shades" and "many antagonists" did give Mordauk concern. The choice of language seemed to indicate that Kalgardithicus might hold these schemers in higher regard than just his typical disdain. Antagonists that Kalgardithicus himself considered worthy opponents might prove to be extremely dangerous to Mordauk.

"Even the Meddlers may have taken an interest in this world," said Kalgardithicus, "but your first concern is to retrieve the key."

Kalgardithicus then leaned forward, going down onto one giant knee, bringing his insectoid-Umpalaloid head with its glowing red eyes forward, right down before Mordauk's mind's eye, filling Mordauk's entire field of view. Mordauk could feel an icy breeze escaping the giant mouth through the rows of black, chitinous teeth, a mouth that could probably devour Mordauk's entire body in one bite if they were ever to meet in person. The red glowing eyes of his master bore down on Mordauk. "Do not disappoint me," said Kalgardithicus in a cold, godly whisper as Mordauk thought he could feel his blood begin to freeze. "Achieve this goal, and I will give you your first taste of glory. Fail me, and you will suffer like no other ever has."

Icy pain stabbing at every nerve ending became unbearable, and the vision vanished in a blink, Mordauk's mind returning to the guest quarters on the _Bloody Knife_ , to a circle etched in stone, as he shivered uncontrollably and tried to catch his breath. His real body had never left the ship, yet frost had formed on his arms and legs.

But he was one step closer to glory.

#  CHAPTER FIVE

_I believe we will meld well with the so-called_ Colonistas. _These colonists fled the industrial nightmare of Valencia over a century ago seeking a return to a low-tech, pastoral life. We will have a lot to learn from them as we adapt to this new world, to our new reality. To avoid further provoking the Umpala, we will have to abandon our technology and await the time of the Phoenix. I expect the_ Colonistas _will welcome us as kindred spirits once they learn of our plans to abandon most of our advanced technology and establish a society very similar to their own._

\- Archives of Lord Dakshu Pran Ashoka, High Chancellor of the Empire of Man (from 354 to 367 P.D.)

Don Carlos Gabriel Lopes de Santa Guadalupe stood on the open terrace at the rear of his old-world style hacienda of wood and stone, nodding a false smile to his guests. The equatorial sun had not quite reached high enough in the sky to become too oppressive, and Don Carlos had decided to wear a nice black vest to complement his finest sword belt and his finest leather boots, made from the hide of a black pantera _._ Like most of the other hildagos, he was tall, but unlike many of the others, he had not yet become fat. He actually trained with his sword rather than simply wearing it as an ornament as was becoming more and more common, and it kept him fit and not too paunchy as he approached his fortieth year.

Don Carlos and his guests looked out from beneath pinkish stone arches at Don Carlos's grand lands while an earthy scent wafted in on a gentle breeze. Don Carlos positioned the guests here intentionally so that he could show off his wealth and power, the acres of green cropland claimed from the purple tide of the Vastedad Morada, the dozens of workers in their white coveralls and straw hats working the land. An estate of a true nobleman and one of the noblest families on all of Nuevo.

His family had owned the estate for several generations. His father had even claimed that the estate had been in their family even before the arrival of the Ashokas, though Don Carlos harbored some private doubts to those claims. The Colonistas did, in fact, come to Nuevo long before the Ashokas, long before the Fall of Man, seeking a simpler, less technological way of life, but Don Carlos doubted that his family had really maintained the same estate for the whole time. In past wars, the estates of the hildagos, the noblemen, had frequently bore the brunt of Ashoka treachery and brutality. Publicly, of course, Don Carlos said nothing to dispute the legend that his family had stood their ground all these centuries against the Ashoka invasion.

It seemed every generation or two, the despised Ashokas would ferment unrest among the peasants. That was one reason Don Carlos was currently meeting with his guests.

Unfortunately, it appeared that his enthusiasm to strike back at the Ashokas had led him a little astray today. The conversation with his guests had just taken an unfortunate turn. A somewhat insane one. In one quick masterful stroke, Carlos drew his rapier and severed the madman's throat all the way to the bone. Don Carlos, master of the ancient art of _Destresa_ , had heard enough of his madness. The hildagos did not need any assistance from madmen to resist Ashoka's tyranny.

The madman, he who called himself Paco, tumbled to the floor, his open throat gurgling in between spurts of arterial spray that splattered against the stone tiles.

Don Carlos felt a twinge of regret that he chose to wear such finery today as he noticed a few droplets of crimson speckling his white sleeve. He supposed it would prove a reminder to never again entertain alliances outside of the hildagos. Peasants either couldn't be trusted, or they proved insane.

Flicking the blood off his rapier, Don Carlos raised his eyes from the deceased to look upon the other guest and sighed. "I suppose you're mad as well? Tales of _brujas_ and _mensajeros_ and that sort of thing?"

Don Carlos's own father had died in the last troubles with the Ashokas a couple of decades earlier, and Carlos had no patience for amateurs and madmen. The struggle against Ashoka required a chess match. Amateurs ruined the game and got noble men killed. Madmen brought disaster upon everyone and everything around them. The longer they hovered around, the more likely the destruction.

The other madman, he who called himself Jon, had taken a couple of steps away during the swordplay but now calmly stood his ground a few paces away from his dispatched colleague's bloody remains. Jon had been the older of the two, his dark brown hair graying at the temples and his tan, weathered face showing the track marks of age. He had not seemed so much a peasant as had Paco, more dignified and better dressed, his attire matching the current fashions. Someone who might appear noble had he the dark blue eyes that all noblemen had. Someone worth speaking to at least.

Yet now Don Carlos berated himself for being taken in by appearances.

"My young colleague was a little overly optimistic in hoping to unite our causes," said Jon. "But what he said is fundamentally correct. The Meddlers have released the nine artifacts, and intend to wage war against the Lords Triumphant once again."

"That is all well and good. You may give my complements to _El Diablo_ when you join him," said Don Carlos as he swept his sword up in mock salute to the madman and his nonsense. At least they revealed their insanity before he had introduced them to the rest of the hildagos. Don Carlos would have become a laughingstock had he brought these two into the inner circles.

Jon sighed and then in a quick motion, grabbed the golden buckle at his waist and yanked off his belt. Hundreds of black fibers, each several centimeters long, erupted from the belt, making it look something like a giant millipede suspended from Jon's hand, but the black tendrils began to transform, becoming more rigid and angular, a mismatched assortment of insect-like appendages - articulated legs, pincers, claws, stingers.

Don Carlos took a step back. He couldn't believe his eyes. Maybe their insanity had spread.

An undulation rippled through the insect parts as the former belt seemed to come alive and wrap itself around Jon's arm.

A part of Don Carlos' mind screamed at him. Strike now! The belt was a weapon, disguised so that these madmen could sneak it into this meeting.

Yet seeing all those pincers and claws and stingers writhing over Jon's arm held him in check. A part of his mind just wanted to see what the hell was going on with that damn belt and all those creepy insect parts. A part of his mind still held a little bit of hope that all those stingers and claws would attack Jon's arm.

Don Carlos pulled his eyes off the spectacle for a moment to glance at Jon's face, to see how the man was reacting to the writhing, squirming insect mass engulfing his arm. The man seemed rather nonplussed.

Even when many of those insect appendages began piercing his flesh.

Don Carlos watched in disbelief as some of those pincers and stingers burrowed through the flesh of Jon's arm and appeared to come out the other side, even larger than they were before. He looked again at Jon's face, and them man showed no signs of pain or horror.

Jon noticed Don Carlos' shift in attention, and he smiled. "As you can see, we are well armed."

Don Carlos steadied his breathing and shifted his stance. He didn't know what the hell that thing was, but he knew he had to strike soon.

Jon said, "To be honest, you and your pathetic friends are quite unworthy of the new gods. The only reason we had approached you is because time is running short. We have infiltrated the security forces here quite effectively, but we still seek to secure a few more pieces. Despite all your tragic incompetence, you have managed to acquire some valuable intelligence sources within House Ashoka."

Don Carlos leveled his sword, assuming an aggressive stance. His shock had turned. The madman had called him pathetic and tragically incompetent. Don Carlos felt a certain eagerness slice off chunks of his flesh.

In response, Jon leveled the writhing mass of insect appendages that once had been his right arm. He seemed to point it at Don Carlos. "Time is running short. The Umpala will arrive soon."

The mention of the Umpala irked Don Carlos even more. The Umpala had been Ashoka's boogieman for centuries, keeping the Colonistas frightened and in need of protection. The damn Umpala didn't even touch Nuevo during the war. There was nothing here to interest them. The Colonistas had come here to found a low-technology society. There was no reason for the Umpala to come then, and there was no reason for them to come now. Yet this madman repeated the same damn lies as the Ashokas.

Don Carlos stepped forward and slashed his blade at Jon's wreathing arm, more of a probe than a true strike. He wanted to see what that damn thing was supposed to do, to see how it reacted to cold steel.

It reacted by shooting out a red spark, a small lightning bolt that sizzled across the air and slammed into Don Carlos's sword, wrenching it from his grip and sending it clattering across the stone tiles.

The sting still pulsed in Don Carlos's hand, while a tingle ran up his forearm. He glared at Jon and his writhing arm. A damn energy weapon -- a weapon of a dishonorable coward.

Jon smiled and gave his shoulders a slight shrug. "Don't bring a sword to a gunfight."

Don Carlos looked down at Paco's carcass, the pool of blood next to his severed throat. "Tell that to your friend."

A dozen stingers, like those on scorpions, shot out from the swarm around Jon's arm, faster than Don Carlos could react, impacting against Don Carlos' neck and chest, biting into the flesh and hooking on. Don Carlos clenched his teeth against the pain and then screamed in agony as they yanked him forward towards Jon.

Don Carlos stumbled to his knees before the madman with the monstrous arm, and dozens of more stingers darted out to bite into his face and head. Don Carlos screamed again and tried to grab at these tendrils, but his arms no longer worked.

Jon looked down at him and rubbed his chin with his free hand, the one lacking thousands of those horrific insect stingers and claws. "I doubt you personally have the information I need, but it will be interesting to find out what you know."

Don Carlos felt hundreds of tendrils squirm under his skin, working their way under the flesh of his neck and cheeks, wiggling and writhing under his jaw and through eye sockets and sinuses as they worked their way into his skull. He wanted to scream at the disgusting indignity, at the violation. But he no longer controlled even his mouth, it hanging open and dry. Odd visions, memories, flashed before his eyes. A bottle of tequila spilled ceremoniously over the open grave of Don Javier in a private cemetery as the hildagos stood dourly by. His father dispatching a peasant with his sword. An ancient bottle of red wine shared with a Niyatian nobleman. The images flowed in a chaotic stream, seeming random in time and space, yet he couldn't help but feel there was some pattern there that he just couldn't grasp.

The visions cleared for a moment, and Don Carlos saw that someone else had come, here on the terrace. A large man in white coveralls stood next to Jon. Though dressed as a peasant, his handsome, dark-haired visage looked more a nobleman. His dark cunning eyes, the way Jon deferred to him, revealed a powerful evil about him that Don Carlos could feel in his bones.

He seemed to notice Don Carlos' attention, and he looked down at Don Carlos with his evil eyes. "No peeking, _senor_ ," said the man as he pressed his thumbs into Don Carlos' eyes. The right eye popped first, Don Carlos feeling the burst, and then liquid running down his cheek. The left eye gave way shortly after.

Under the control of the tendrils squirming under his skull, not much pain shot through him. But yet again, his mind wanted to scream at the grotesqueness of it. At the violation.

Don Carlos wanted so badly to hurry up and die, wanted to end this indignity now.

A wicked laugh murmured through his mind. The evil man said, "The Lords Triumphant teach us that defeat should not be so easy so that victory shall be more cherished. I tell you, my friend, I cherish victory like no one you have ever met."

Pain like burning coals erupted in Don Carlos' eyes sockets, the tendrils easing back their control. Don Carlos screamed, his mouth finally working, but it brought no relief. Don Carlos knew with absolute certainty that things were just going to keep getting worse.

#  CHAPTER SIX

_Fore-Sight is perhaps the most interesting of our gifts. It would be impossible to navigate the energy fluctuations and surges in the Void without seeing the probabilities. To see the most likely probabilities a few moments into the future can be a matter of life and death for those traversing the Void. Yet for those who would look beyond mere moments, to peer into probability matrices beyond the near future, it has always been rather problematic. Some claim it to be a creative exercise, to explore possibilities and to be alerted to unforeseen complications, and I understand these arguments. The longer in the future one peers, however, the more the_ _"_ _human_ _matrix"_ _affects the probability matrix. A cascade of human decisions affects the future, and human decisions can be so random and arbitrary. Yet, somehow, powerful revelations do occur. The awe and the mystery of the Void_ _continue_ _to compel generation after generation after all these centuries. The term_ _"_ _Priestess_ _"_ _seems just as valid today as it did centuries ago._

\- Essays of Rubria VI, Sacrator Primus of the Sacerdotes Vacuum (235 to 249 P.D.)

Malaran opened her eyes, saw the churning clouds above. Felt the rain falling. Felt her head pounding.

She couldn't move. She laid there on the hard ground and blinked as the rain hit her in the face. Her hands and feet no longer burned, but she was afraid to look, afraid of what carnage she might see.

Other than her head, most of the pain was gone, but her body still tingled with energies, still felt the symphony of the Void. She had expelled the red lightning, but she remained attuned to the forces surging around her.

Maybe even more attuned.

_Vision goes black, but there are stars. Then Nuevo rotates into view. The mind's eye is in space, in orbit. The_ Menelaus _, the old Imperial battlecruiser dodges and weaves as Umpala raiders close in._

Malaran sucked her breath in as her heart surged. The vision had come upon her unprovoked. Since she had not consciously invoked the Sight, she didn't know if the vision represented Far-Sight or some kind of Fore-Sight, what was happening now or what might yet happen. Whether her optic nerves followed a trail of quantum entanglement or whether it perused the sea of quantum possibilities.

The Umpala might already be here. In orbit, engaging the _Menelaus_. She tried to stand, but her body would not cooperative. She could only breathe and blink.

Her head still throbbed, but she tried to focus her mind, tried to invoke Far-Sight. She needed to see what was truly happening in orbit.

She gasped as her mind's eye was flung through space. She couldn't control it. Too many raw energies surged through her body.

A girl of seventeen, dressed in the simple black robe of the Priestesses of the Void stands on a sandstone plateau in formation with scores of soldiers donning black and silver uniforms of the Agema, staff and shield at the ready.

Calista. Calista at Athene. At the Fall of Man. She had seen this in her dreams over and over again, but this was different. It wasn't a dream, but Sight.

As monstrous storms and tornadoes erupt all around, a great fissure into the Void devours much of the Umpala fleet. The fissure touches the surface of the planet, ripping through sandstone and carving a great swath of destruction before Calista as she stands amidst the bodies of fallen Agema and Umpala, large gorilla-like beings with round, reptilian heads. As the Umpala hordes pour in around her, the one lone remaining Agema stands with her and uses his body as her shield. Just as the Umpala rush encloses her, Calista summons the fissure to her, engulfing herself and thousands of Umpala.

And so fell Calista. And the Empire of Man.

In the end, she had not quite accomplished enough. Too many Umpala remained. They soon penetrated the bunkers of Calista's father, the Emperor of Man.

But Malaran couldn't be seeing this. Not with Far-Sight. Calista fell at Athene over five hundred years ago.

But it couldn't be Past-Sight either. As far as she knew, only one's own experience could be revealed.

Unless all the energies here maybe enabled more.

Then her mind's eye was flung across space again.

A huge alien ship, like a great tower in space with unfathomable geometric structures all about it, bears down on a brown and white planet.

Then another shift.

A giant space station, dwarfing the dozens of starships docked about it, explodes in a brilliant blast.

Malaran screamed as a torrent of visions blasted into her in a harsh, hallucinogenic mix. Starships. Planets. Battles. Faces.

A dark hooded figure stands upon a barren, frozen landscape. In the night sky, a faded red sun is torn asunder by its companion star, something very dense -- a neutron star perhaps. The figure's glowing blue eyes peek out beneath the hood. "Nine champions," thunders an inhuman voice over the icy landscape, somehow reverberating through vacuum, "to stand against the darkness."

The vision shifts to a writhing plain beneath a blue sun. The focus zooms across the plain, revealing thousands and thousands of beings clad in all kinds battle gear. Perhaps hundreds of thousands of people, of beings, human and otherwise, raise their assorted weapons up in down in unison. The focus zooms in enough to see their mouths move. They chant something as they raise their weapons. The silence of the vision is broken as sound now thrusts forward to accompany the imagery, the deep background rumble of the horde and the roar of thousands upon thousands of voices chanting two words over and over again. "War Witch."

Malaran gasped, her mind racing to make sense of all these images. Maybe on another refuge world there spawned not an Order of Calista, but an _Army_ of Calista.

Then she sees the darkness. It creeps through the expanse between galaxies, coming forward, coming towards Malaran's galaxy. Somehow she can distinguish this darkness from the Void of intergalactic space, and she realizes that some of it has already arrived. Pockets and slivers and nebulous fragments already pockmark her own galaxy.

Her head screaming in agony against it, Malaran tried to focus.

The vision zooms in on one of the slivers of darkness here in her galaxy. The vision erratically streaks back and forth, resisting her control, but slowly succumbs as her Sight focuses through stars and nebulas and eventually hones in on this particular region. But the Sight cannot penetrate.

She feels a presence there in the darkness, just beyond her perception. She reaches out with her mind, attempting to touch the other's, to make a connection and communicate like she has done on occasions before in the Oculus chamber with Calistites in other chambers across the planet.

_But what she touched_ _,_ _this time_ _,_ _was no Priestess or Calistite. No human. Nor Umpala._

Malevolence. Blood and fire.

The muscles in her neck seemed to work finally, and she turned her head to the side as she vomited. The visions and her consciousness went black.

#  CHAPTER SEVEN

_I have begun to wonder if this Darkness played some part in our ancestors losing contact with Earth and the worlds of the First Dispersion so many centuries ago. It is possible that internal war, the War of Confederations, actually extinguished many of those worlds, but surely not all of them. Our Empire of Man sprung from but a single colony world, and surely others would have followed suite. But where are they? Why cannot we See them? This Darkness troubles me more and more every day._

\- Secret Journals of Licinia VII, Sacrator Primus of the Sacerdotes Vacuum (322 to 339 P.D.), recorded 339 P.D. (28 years prior to the Fall of Man.)

Malaran opened her eyes and saw her bedroom, the royal bedroom at her citadel, large with a huge four-post bed and antique furniture that House Ashoka had brought with them five centuries ago when they fled the destruction of the Core Worlds. Her ancestors had seized the citadels back then, the array of air-defense fortresses spread across the habitable continent on Nuevo. This particular citadel, Citadel Buonarroti, had been her home for the last five years. Father had gifted it to her when she had turned fifteen and graduated from the Order day-school near Father's Citadel Raphael. It was somewhat of an experiment, a royal household in half the facility and a Calistite priory in the other half. And Malaran tugged between the two worlds.

Malaran rubbed her cheek against the soft, silken sheets. Much nicer than those in the dormitory. It had been weeks since she had slept in the acolyte dormitory. Father had always insisted that she remain at least partly a princess and dutiful daughter of House Ashoka, part of the bargain with Order of Calista, but until a few weeks ago she spent most of her time as a lowly acolyte and rarely occupied the royal quarters. Then as the starship arrived, she had declined Invocation. She hadn't been ready to take that step.

After that, she technically was no longer a Calistite. But they still seemed to have plans for her. Both the Order and Aadi still seemed to scheme and plot her fate. Without any consideration at all for what she wanted. Aadi had even reassigned Leela, her only real friend.

Leela. Memories of the Crucible suddenly flooded into her, and she yanked her hands from beneath the sheets and stared at them. She remembered distinctly the agony of the fire as the red lightning burst her hands into flame, yet there was not a mark on her hands now. Had it all been just visions and hallucinations?

"Is there something wrong with your hands," asked Kalima.

Malaran jolted and sat up straight. Kalima and two other women had been sitting on a bench and a chair. They all three stood. Malaran quickly glanced around the room to see if anyone else was there, then her eyes settled back on the trio. Kalima looked the same as ever, gray-haired, stern-faced with dark piercing eyes, and clad in a simple black robe. Her right sleeve hung loose where her arm should have been. She had lost it helping Malaran capture the _Menelaus._ Kalima had been her teacher and mentor for as long as Malaran could remember, first at the day-school near Father's citadel and then here at Citadel Buonarroti. The recent events had increased Malaran's respect for her and her affection for her. And she was the one who kept getting inside Malaran's head and even convinced Malaran to go to the Crucible to complete the Rite of Ascension.

One of the others appeared to be an Elder too. She had a rounder face than Kalima and wore her gray hair longer, but she had the same look. Her black robe was not as simple, appearing lusher and included some fancy embroidery. Malaran didn't remember seeing her before, but she couldn't be sure since her attention was mainly focused on the third woman.

The third member of the trio had the piercing eyes of an Elder, in this case green, but like Qingniao there at the Crucible, she had an oddly youthful face paired with those eyes. She wore heavy make around her eyes that flowed into certain symbols painted high on her cheeks near her eyes, a form of war paint. Not only was her face oddly youthful like Qingniao's, but it also seemed strikingly beautiful like hers as well, with short blond hair draped to one side and extending not past her ear, showing no hints of gray. Naturally blond hair was not common on Nuevo, but hair coloring fads came and went. She wore no dress either. Instead, she donned a black bodysuit favored by those in the _Collegium Bellum_ , something like soldiers might wear, but her feminine form blatantly obvious. On her wrists, she wore the smart-metal bracelets very similar to ones that the Order had gifted Malaran.

"Your hands," said Kalima. "Is something the matter?"

Malaran stopped staring at the youthful woman and glanced at her hands again. "There does not appear to be. I'm just a little disoriented."

"There's little time for disorientation," said the younger Calistite.

Malaran looked at her again. She had expected the Elders to lead the conversation. Then she suddenly realized that she was sitting in bed addressing the Elders. Malaran pulled her sheets back and put her feet on the floor, but before she could stand, Kalima gestured for her to remain sitting. She did feel a little wobbly, so maybe that was a good idea.

"This is Sacrator Jayana," said Kalima nodding to the younger one, and then she nodded to the other. "And this is Prioress Devina."

"Elders?" Malaran asked as she looked at Jayana hoping for some official clarification. Like Qingniao, Jayana seemed to be an Elder with a youthful face. It seemed strange that she had never seen one like this before, and then suddenly she meets two of them. And they happen to show up just as things go crazy. She still couldn't decide whether the insect creature at the Crucible had been a hallucination or not. She could have sworn her hands would have shown some sign of damage from the red lightning. The pain had been intense.

Jayana stared back a moment with her piecing green eyes, and then she said, "The Elders are the public face of the Order. Mine is not one of those faces... though I do not hold any lower status within the Order than my colleagues before you." She paused for a moment as she looked Malaran up and down, and then she continued in a slightly different tone. "My face does not reflect my age nor my experience."

Malaran puzzled over the way Jayana had spoken those last words. She thought she noticed a hint of disapproval in Kalima's expression.

"As an acolyte," said Jayana with her penetrating green eyes, "you've only seen a very small part of the Order. It may be time for you to learn more."

"Perhaps," said Devina with just a slight tinge of doubt in her voice.

Malaran felt a little overwhelmed at the moment trying to process everything, still trying to come to grips with her visions at the Crucible, and now Kalima was joined by two other Elders, one of whom seemed to be trying to talk her into going through with Invocation.

Kalima did not say a word, but Malaran could detect a very subtle sense of annoyance in her. Malaran had known Kalima most of her life and had learned to recognize at least a few things in her typically stoic expressions. Not many, but a few. She wondered though what bothered Kalima. It seemed like Jayana was encouraging her to go through Invocation, and that had seemed to be what Kalima wanted as well. Maybe she didn't like another interfering with her own recruiting? Maybe didn't like her methods?

Her eyes darted back to Jayana. That was it. Kalima had always challenged her, made her prove she had what it takes to be a Calistite. But Jayana attempted to entice her. Not only with this talk of 'only seeing a small part of the Order,' but with her very presence. Her face. The lure of staying young and beautiful for much longer than normal. But how long? Calistites from a very young age trained on how to manipulate their body chemistry -- to ignore the heat and cold, to ward of weariness, to boost immunity. Did the Elders take this even further and achieve rejuvenation? Surely they did not go as far to as violate the taboo, to alter the Death Code?

"How old are you?" Malaran asked Jayana, trying not to blurt it out.

A slight smile formed on Jayana's lips while Devina's face turned sour. Devina threw a dirty glance at Kalima before turning back to Malaran to say, "Your training has been severely lacking if you believe that is an appropriate question for an acolyte to ask, especially of a superior."

Malaran knew she maybe should have been more diplomatic, maybe just queried Kalima in private, but her mind raced trying to fit everything together. First Qingniao, and the insect creature, and then the visions, and now Jayana. She did nod her head in apology, though part of her didn't feel that apologetic. A part of her wanted to say, "But I am not in the Order anymore. I don't want to be part of your schemes." But instead, she said quietly, "Forgive me, Prioress. Forgive me, Sacrator."

Jayana still maintained a slight smile as she said, "I cannot share that knowledge with just anyone. The Order has its secrets. Perhaps soon you can share in these, though."

"Enough," said Kalima forcefully. "We've become sidetracked."

Jayana murmured quietly, "I have not."

Malaran held back a sigh. All the petty politics and internal squabbles had been a large issue in her eventually being turned off the Order and played a significant part in her decision not to go through Invocation when Kalima had first offered the choice that day she had looked upon the starship for the first time using Far-Sight. She had become even more reluctant after capturing the starship and seemed to be some chess piece that the Order and her brother King Aadi squabbled over.

"Tell us what happened at the Crucible," said Kalima as she gave an ever so slight glare at Jayana.

This time, Malaran did sigh. It was all a jumble in her head, all those visions or hallucinations or whatever they were. She thought she could tell the difference between what really happened and the visions that came later, but after looking at her hands, there remained some doubt. "At the end," she said, "I became overcame with visions, like the Sight had flooded over me. Or perhaps they were just hallucinations. But they make it a little difficult for me to trust my recollection." Especially when she recalled some insect monster appearing out of nowhere and setting her aflame with red lightning.

The three women did not say a word. No sign of impatience at least. Not yet. Their piercing eyes seemed to demand answers, though.

Malaran cleared her throat and continued. "Before I even reached the Crucible, a woman appeared out of nowhere. One like _Sacrator_ Jayana. A younger, beautiful face with eyes of an Elder. It might have been another hallucination, but it seemed real at the time."

Devina's face turned sour again, and Jayana actually looked surprised. Kalima just frowned. Each of the Elders managed to throw a subtle glare at Jayana.

"She claimed that she had left the Order long ago. She called herself Qingniao," said Malaran. She had to pause and take in the women's faces. The Order, especially the teachers, had mastered the stoic, even aloof expression that did not falter. Malaran had much experience over the years in trying to pick up the subtle cues that slipped out, but right now she did not need any of this experience. Even the newest young acolyte would be able to tell that these women were greatly disturbed by this information. Malaran wondered how they would react to the mention of the insect creature. Would these Calistites just decide she was delusional?

"What did she offer you?" asked Jayana abruptly.

"Offer me?" asked Malaran a little puzzled. "I don't recall any offers. Just some warnings. She said that the bubbles I created in the Void, 'enfolding the Void' she called it, had created ripples in the Void that had been detected by the Umpala. And even more unknown enemies." Malaran quickly glanced at Kalima. "Is that possible? Has the Order detected these ripples that she spoke of?"

The Calistites glanced at each other for a moment, and then Kalima answered. "We've been in contact with a Priestess on Wodin's World who claimed to have detected these ripples. She had been able to determine that they originated here on Nuevo."

On a few occasions during her training, Malaran had used the Oculus chamber and its advanced technology to reach out across the Void and touch minds with another Calisite in another chamber somewhere else on Nuevo. The rumor was that the Order periodically made contact with Priestesses on other refuge worlds, but Malaran didn't know what information was exchanged. From what she heard the refuge worlds all had low-tech civilizations and were constantly engaged in internal wars.

Malaran didn't know what to think about that news of the ripples. It did seem to support her belief that the encounter with Qingniao had been real and not a hallucination, but it meant that the Umpala surely would have detected the ripples and their origin too. And whatever other enemies might be out there.

"So the Umpala are probably on their way," said Malaran. Aadi's military advisers had been optimistic that the arrival of the _Menelaus_ did not signal a new Umpala threat. They figured that the Umpala battle-shaman that had been hidden on the _Menelaus_ must have been a renegade, and whatever schemes had been hatched did not involve the Umpala as a whole or even one of the individual clans. The military advisers were incredibly concerned about whatever the schemers had in mind and whatever other starships and resources they might still possess, but they saw a low probability of it involving the sky filling with hundreds or even dozens of Umpala warships anytime soon.

But the probability was quite high if the Umpala had detected the ripples. If nothing else, they would send ships to investigate. Malaran wondered if the Order had informed Aadi of this. The relationship between the House Ashoka and the Order of Calista had been even more strained since the capture of the _Menelaus_ , each having their own ideas as to the best way to utilize the starship. Each having their own ideas as to the best way to utilize Malaran.

Malaran had a sinking feeling in her stomach, but the Calistites before her seemed rather nonchalant discussing the impending arrival of the Umpala.

Devina in fact quickly moved on. "This woman, Qingniao, she spoke of other enemies as well?"

Malaran shrugged her shoulders slightly. "She was vague and mysterious. Like a Calistite." Her pulse sped up slightly as she said those last words, wondering if she pushed her luck being so forward, but the Calistites didn't seem to notice. She continued, "Qingniao's exact words were 'lions, tigers, and bears.'" She took a deep breath and then said. "But I think I might have seen one of these other enemies. Maybe." She glanced again at her hands. She focused her mind for an instant and tried to invoke True-Sight. Supposedly some of the Calistites could use the Sight to appraise medical trauma, and Malaran thought it was worth a try. Just to see.

She still felt a little woozy, so the Sight proved fleeting. Just a quick, very brief glimpse was all she could muster. But it was enough. She couldn't put it into words, but she could tell that something was different about her hands. They had suffered some kind of abuse. She had prevented the red lightning from consuming her hands, but the red lightning had left its mark, even if it wasn't visible to the naked eye.

So it had been real. She looked back at Kalima. "Yes. I did see one of these enemies. At least one had come to Nuevo. It came for me, there at the Crucible."

The Calistites exchanged mysterious glances once again.

"Are you sure?" asked Devina. "What was its nature?"

"It seems crazy." Malaran took another deep breath and looked Kalima in the eyes. She gave an almost imperceptible nod, a nod of encouragement. "It came for me disguised as my previous guardswoman, Leela. It looked just like her, until I invoked True-Sight. I detected the disguise, the illusion, but I did not see its true form until we engaged in combat."

"And what was its true form," asked Devina with a hint of eagerness in her voice.

Malaran didn't know how to say it without it sounding crazy, so she just said it. "It was a giant insect creature, somewhat humanoid. It spoke Universal. And it shot red lightning from its hands."

Jayana turned and walked for the door, not hurriedly, but purposefully. She spoke into a communicator on her forearm, speaking in the Calistite battle tongue. Malaran understood the basics and the general syntax, but the Order didn't teach all of the vocabulary until after Invocation.

Devina stood where she was, but she also began speaking into a communicator on her wrist. Malaran didn't understand any of it. It must have been "the Lingo," as it was called. The Order's secret language. _None_ of that language was taught until after Invocation. Maybe not until a long time after Invocation.

Malaran stood from the bed. It didn't feel right just sitting there while the Calistites reacted so. She felt a little dizzy, but she could handle it. She looked at Kalima. "I take it you know of such creatures."

"A few of the most gifted among us have seen visions," said Kalima. "But the enemy is adept at hiding from the Sight. We had no idea that they had come to Nuevo." And then her tone changed ever so slightly. "This creature came for you, specifically?"

Malaran nodded, and with a tinge of humor in her voice said, "It made some personal, rather rude comments about me. Right before it tried to incinerate me with the red lightning."

"And you prevailed," said Kalima softly.

Devina paused for a moment in her conversation to look at Malaran thoughtfully, and then she glanced away and continued speaking the Lingo into her wrist.

Kalima's words caused a brief burst of pride in Malaran. She had prevailed. She had defeated that demonic creature one-on-one.

"Did this creature say anything of consequence? Did you learn anything of value?" asked Kalima, her voice changing back to its authoritative self.

"It seemed to suggest that it came to Nuevo to test me. To see if I was the one they were looking for."

Devina paused and looked at her, and then said a few quick words into her wrist before ending her conversation with whoever was on the other end. Devina glanced at Kalima first and then said, "We will need a detailed account of everything that was said. And a detailed account of every second of your combat with the creature. Of how you were able to defeat it. Prepare a written account with every single detail you can remember."

Nodding her head, Malaran thought about all the visions the saw, the hallucinations. What would they think of those? "I saw many visions, hallucinations probably, there near the Crucible, after I defeated the creature. Should I detail those as well."

Devina nodded her head and said, "Everything you can remember."

Kalima said, "It is not uncommon for lowly acolytes to experience visions uncalled upon, there in the energies of the Crucible. Interpreting them may be a different matter."

"I think it would be difficult," agreed Malaran, "especially not being able to tell a hallucination from a true vision. In my visions, I saw Calista fall at Athene. That had to be a hallucination." Calista's battle with the Umpala couldn't be a future possibility. It already happened five centuries ago.

Kalima looked at her for a moment before replying, but as usual, Malaran couldn't read her expression that well. "It would not be strictly impossible to perceive Calista with Sight," said Kalima. "It is very rare, but there have been those who could use Past-Sight beyond their own personal experience."

Normally Malaran would be excited about possibly having a rare ability, but her other ability she had taken some pride in, enfolding the Void, possibly had doomed Nuevo. Possibly doomed mankind. The Umpala would be coming. Other enemies were already here.

Malaran thought of the vision of the Darkness, of the malevolent being she sensed. She took in another deep breath as she made sure her legs were steady. "There was another vision that was particularly disturbing," she said to Kalima and Devina. "A Darkness entering our galaxy."

A barely perceptible disturbance ran through Devina and Kalima. Not a jolt, but something. Devina glanced at Kalima and then took in a deep breath. "It has been a while since anyone has seen that vision. Sacrator Vika Yovenko of the Collegium Visum was the last. The enemy has become ever more adept at hiding from Sight."

Malaran tried to process all this information. She was somewhat surprised that they had shared what they had. Especially without a bunch more mystery and vague foreboding. One question did suddenly come to mind. "Is this insect creature and the Darkness the same enemy?"

Devina and Kalima did once again exchange mysterious glances, and then Devina said, "Perhaps." Malaran fought back a frown. She was hoping the Elders would continue to be less vague.

Kalima must have seen the disappointment in her and added, "We believe the insect creature and its kind are working in support of the Darkness, but we haven't been able to determine if they are simply allies of the Darkness or the true Enemy itself. We are concerned that the Enemy might have provoked or manipulated the Umpala into war against the Empire, and it's possible they are doing the same with these creatures."

"On the other hand," Devina added, "these insect creatures were first noticed in visions at about the same time the Darkness was noted, and they have seemed to be equally adept at hiding from Sight." She gave a barely perceptible shrug. "Opinion remains divided."

Malaran sat back on the bed. Her legs had started to shake. The Order knew so much, saw before them the doom of the galaxy, but they had apparently had kept it all secret. "What are we going to do?" she said hoarsely.

Devina let out a small breath, not quite a sigh. "The smart thing would be to load everyone of consequence onto the _Menelaus_ and leave this planet. But the king, your brother, resists."

Malaran did wonder how much they had told Aadi, but the idea of fleeing the planet and leaving everyone else to fend for themselves didn't seem right. Only a few thousand people could leave on the starship. She looked up Devina. "I meant what are we going to do about the Darkness. We can't flee the galaxy."

Devina seemed to shrug once again though her shoulders did not appear to move. "Stuck here on a backward little planet with the Umpala storm bearing down on us, there is little that we can do."

"War will be waged against the Darkness," said Kalima. "But we must rebuild first."

Malaran rubbed her hands together as she pondered what they said. She knew that her brother Aadi, High King of Nuevo, had his own vision for how best to utilize the _Menelaus._ And her _,_ and the _Anax-Hema_ , the genetic marker in her blood. He said that contingency plans had been made by the High Council centuries ago, but apparently Aadi and the Order disagreed upon what actions to take now. Aadi was reluctant to send the starship away without getting a better handle on the situation. It was still not clear what Heracles Xander, the false emperor, was really up to and if he had allies that would come looking for him. And Aadi said it would take time to get a new crew ready and to root out all of the false emperor's supporters.

The Order, on the other hand, seemed to think it best to leave Nuevo as soon as possible. Especially Malaran. The Anax-Hema was important to the contingency plans laid down centuries ago.

Malaran grew more and more annoyed every day being at the center of everyone's plans with little say in what direction those plans would go.

And to make it worse, that insect creature had seemed to come for her specifically too. She seemed to be a part of everyone's schemes, including possibly the Enemy. The Darkness. She focused her eyes back on the Kalima and Devina. "If _the_ Enemy has taken an interest in me, not just their proxies, then..." she trailed off, not sure what to say as different thoughts tugged her in different directions.

"Our task becomes more difficult, but the fact remains that we must leave this planet," said Devina as she seemed to stand taller, to perhaps emphasize the authority of her statements. "Whether more enemies remain hidden here on Nuevo or not, whether the Enemy moves against you or not, the Umpala _are_ coming. They might not come in force to begin with, but they will come."

"We will protect you against any enemies already on the planet," said Kalima. "But if the skies fill with Umpala raiders, our options become very limited."

Malaran realized suddenly how much all this talk drew her towards the Order. She had asked what are _we_ going to do about the Darkness. Devina had said that _we_ must leave the planet. She wondered if this was intentional manipulation on Devina's and Kalima's part. She looked them both in the eye. "Would you still assist me even if I refuse Invocation once again?"

Devina seemed to smile slightly. "We believe someone such as yourself would benefit greatly from the tutelage offered by the Order of Calista. Many believe that this would best be achieved through formal indoctrination, but we will not refuse you our protection if you choose to decline Invocation." Devina glanced at Kalima. "We would also provide what tutelage we could, but it likely would not be quite as effective as what we could provide to a fully invested Initiate."

"Your path," said Kalima, "will likely take you beyond the Order. If you live that long. But the Order can help prepare you."

#  CHAPTER EIGHT

_It appears that the Emperor was even more determined to maintain his dynasty than I had thought. A delayed message was received from the late Emperor informing me that he had altered the Phoenix protocols to respond only to the_ Anax-Hema _. Without the preservation of the zygotes, the fertilized eggs, that he placed in my safekeeping, it is likely that we will have no means of utilizing the Phoenix. Perhaps he had doubts about my loyalty, or perhaps it was just natural instinct for the man that brought the Great Houses to heel and ruled the Empire, but no matter his reasoning, this ploy endangers the entire human race._

\- Archives of Lord Dakshu Pran Ashoka, High Chancellor of the Empire of Man (from 354 to 367 P.D.)

Malaran's oldest brother, now Lord of House Ashoka and High King of Nuevo, stood in the command center and watched the status screens relaying the progress of war preparations. All the disrupter field emitters had been pulled from storage and deployed with ground troops. The reservists and militias had been activated when the starship had arrived and still remained in alert status, spending much of their time in training maneuvers trying to get up to speed with the regular military units. The regular troops were constantly on the move. Just today the 5th Infantry Battalion had redeployed to Epsilon Province while the 4th Cavalry Battalion had taken up position near Citadel Masaccio in Gamma Province. Aadi and his generals moved his chess pieces around, hoping to keep the enemy off-guard. Whoever the enemy was.

Following the tradition began several generations ago, Aadi dressed in a standard officer's uniform in the House Ashoka's colors of green and black; his only royal insignia were the bejeweled emblems of serpent and sword attached to his collar.

The command center of the secret underground bunker bustled with about fifteen officers relaying orders and latest intelligence while others monitored screens and displays of their own, all preparing for the other shoe to drop. They had lost a king on their watch, and they were determined not to let it happen again. The bunker had undergone a massive refit in the last few weeks, having gone unused for hundreds of years. The High Kings of Nuevo had put their faith in the citadels, but just recently that faith had faltered. A High King of Nuevo had been lost while supposedly secure in his citadel. Incinerated by nuclear fire.

And thus king-hood had been thrust upon Aadi.

Aadi had grown thinner the last couple of weeks, his body weight being shed to compensate for all the weight of the world that had burdened him since Father's death. His black hair and beard had suddenly blossomed streaks of gray. Even the soft green eyes he had inherited from his mother seemed to have hardened considerably in the last few weeks. When the first reports came in of the arrival of the starship, there had been so much hope that the Phoenix had finally risen. But instead, the starship brought death and destruction. And an Umpala.

Aadi would often lay awake at night trying to figure out what was happening.

So far the Intelligence Directorate had learned so little from the captured starship, the _Menelaus_. Interrogations of the captured starship crew hadn't been particularly enlightening. Most of the crew had been recruited at Katla, a distant moon colony around the planet Skadi. The colony had been cutoff for centuries after the Umpala destroyed or chased away all the human starships. Not aware of the Mega Oikogeneia's master plan to avoid attracting the Umpala's attention, the colony had continued to rely on high technology and remained very proficient. And then one day a few years ago the _Menelaus_ showed up and recruited volunteers to help rebuild the Empire of Man. They had no idea that the man calling himself Heracles Xander was working with an Umpala.

Heracles and the _Menelaus_ had arrived at Katla with a skeleton crew, claiming to be the long-lost heir to the Emperor of Man. He had claimed that his ancestors had hidden away several battlecruisers and awaited the day to reclaim the Empire.

That story was more difficult to investigate. Heracles was dead, the computer files wiped or encrypted, and there had been difficulties interrogating the original skeleton crew that had come with Heracles. Several committed suicides. Several were murdered. And many were just missing, either hiding on the ship or hiding on Nuevo. Without being able to interrogate these missing members of Heracles inner-circle, there was very little to go on in figuring out Heracles' true agenda.

Which made things difficult for Aadi in deciding what to do next. And time was running out. Someone, or something, had moved against his sister, Malaran. Against the _Anax-Hema_. An attempt had been made on her life. But who was the enemy?

The Intelligence Directorate had swept the scene near where Malaran's unconscious body had been found using certain technologies of the ancients. They detected DNA fragments that did not match anything on Nuevo or anything on record from the old Empire. Humans and Umpala and unknown aliens plotted against Nuevo.

And poor Malaran was caught in the middle yet again. It appeared that the unknown alien attempted to assassinate her there at Mount Tormenta. Aadi wished he could just lock Malaran away somewhere safe, but he didn't know if a safe place existed. Somehow Heracles seemed to have spies on the planet before the _Menelaus_ was ever detected -- he had just known too much. He had even known about the Anax-Hema. On top of that, members of his inner circle were still on the loose. And somehow an alien had come to Nuevo undetected.

Aadi found it somewhat miraculous that Malaran had survived the assassination attempt. He still just tended to see Malaran as his little sister, an awkward kid, even though Malaran had saved his life once when his party had been ambushed, and by all accounts had been instrumental in capturing the _Menelaus_.

He just wished that Father had not manipulated her so much when she was little. Malaran had been an odd little girl to begin with, awkward with few friends, and Father had made it worse. Aadi wasn't sure what Father intended, but it did lead to Malaran being a lonely girl. Father told her all those tales of the heroic Calista and encouraged her interest in the Order of Calista and put her on her path. What little girl yearns to fight monsters?

It made him wonder if he was the right man to be king. Whether he could be as ruthless as Father. He had spent forty years preparing, learning to deal with the nobles, and the Colonistas, and the Miangaza, and the Cosaks, and the Boltamen, and the Democratists, and the Bhagavatas. But he didn't think he could ever manipulate his daughter, Dayan, the way Father seemed to have manipulated Malaran. Even if Dayan did bear the Anax-Hema _,_ which she did not—she had already been tested, he still wasn't sure he could have been as manipulative as Father.

But Malaran was his sister, not his daughter, and she would perhaps be the last person to ever bear the Anax-Hema. The implications could be dire if the Phoenix were ever to awaken.

"You must decide soon," said the wizened old Pivari of the Order of Calista as she appeared at his side out of nowhere. The Calistite emissary to the House Ashoka glanced at the screens detailing the status of the _Menelaus_. "Time is running short."

Aadi sighed. Sometimes the old Calistite brought him information, and sometimes she just seemed to come to badger him and interrupt his thoughts.

Pivari seemed to be one of the Calistite Elders, old with those mesmerizing eyes, but like much of their ways, their hierarchy seemed to be intentionally confusing to outsiders. In fact, Aadi was one of the few people on Nuevo that realized that the Order of Calista had splintered away from the Priestesses of the Void.

He didn't think the average person would notice much of a difference anyway. A bunch of overly mystical women being overly esoteric and cryptic while hinting at special powers much like magic. Pivari always wore a black dress with a black hood, trying to appear wise and mystical. He was pretty sure the Calistites were just as big of schemers and plotters as the Priestesses had ever been. The Priestesses had great power in the Empire since for all practical purposes they controlled interstellar travel, but they always seemed to crave more control and more power.

And one of the Calistite's best schemers stood within him now. Whether she was officially an Elder or not, Pivari was definitely old -- gray-haired and wrinkled, but she also had the deep, mesmerizing eyes that seemed so common among the Calistite elite. Pivari's eyes were very light blue, something of a rarity among the general population on Nuevo. The common people, Colonista and Niyatian alike, tended to have brown eyes. The hildagos, the noble class among the colonistas, did tend to have dark blue eyes, but much darker than Pivari's. In general, nobles on all the planets tended to have different eye color than the common people, an artifact from ancient genetic tinkering. The nobles among the Niyatians had green or gray eyes.

Yet oddities even more distinct than eye color popped up from time to time, probably as result of all the genetic tinkering that took place back during the Cultural Reawakening. One of Aadi's classmates at the military academy had an extra thumb on each hand. He had risen to lieutenant colonel and died at Citadel Donatello with Father.

The thought brought Aadi back into the moment. "Time always runs short when preparing for war," Aadi said without taking his eyes off the status screens. It aggravated him somewhat to be badgered by the Calistites, but since the Order had been instrumental in defeating the false emperor and capturing his starship, he had been forced into something of a power-sharing arrangement where the starship was concerned. And where Malaran was concerned.

Somehow the Calistites knew that Malaran bore the Anax-Hema _._ Too many people seemed to know that secret.

Aadi glanced at Pivari. "We still really have no idea who or what is conspiring against us," he said with a hint of bitterness. The Calistites hadn't shed much light on the issue. He didn't expect them to be totally forthright, but he had expected more than what he got. They should have used some of their mystical powers and came up with at least a few useful bits of information.

"It doesn't matter," said Pivari. "Our enemies are legion. The Phoenix is the only hope."

He sighed. It was an annoying to be lectured about the Phoenix by someone who didn't bear the same weight. For centuries, the High Kings of Nuevo did their duty, keeping the planet stuck in a low technology society and of little interest to the Umpala. Even if it meant ruling with an iron fist. Even if it meant committing certain atrocities. The High Kings always felt the ends justified the means. Humanity had to survive if the Phoenix were to be of any good.

But the Phoenix was overdue. And time was running out. Malaran might be the last bearer ever of the Anax-Hema. All the fertilized eggs left by the Emperor of Man as part of one of his great contingency plans had been birthed. Mother was the last. And of her children, only Malaran bore the Anax-Hema. It was possible that she could pass the genetic marker down to one of her children in time, but the odds seemed against it. The genetic marker tended to get scrambled when Xander and Ashoka blood mixed.

Everything was just coming to a head, and he wasn't sure what to do. The Calistites wanted him to send Malaran away on the _Menelaus_ to search for the Phoenix. He was inclined to agree, but there were so many other things to consider first.

Was the ship even safe? Had all the booby-traps and sabotage been detected? Were there still Heracles loyalists on board in hidden compartments? For that matter, were there still more Umpala or other aliens on the ship. Technology could have changed so much in the last five hundred years, and his people might not even know what to look for. He wanted to make sure the ship was absolutely secure before he allowed the Anax-Hema to go aboard.

And was the new crew ready for star travel? Intensive training had been ongoing with select members of the old crew, but how much expertise can one gain in weeks? The more training they could get in, the better, but how long could he wait?

He just didn't know, and there were so many unanswered questions. Why would an Umpala work with humans? What was their true goal? What does the alien assassin have to with it? Did they want to capture the Anax-Hema or did they want to kill it? How many more were out there, and how many more would be coming to Nuevo?

The interest in the Anax-Hema troubled him deeply. Were the Umpala using humans to try and sabotage or subvert the Phoenix? The Phoenix was humanity's only hope. How did they learn of the Phoenix, and how could people in another star system have possibly known that Malaran bore the Anax-Hema? There had to be spies in his house, but so far none had been found.

Aadi felt the familiar burning sensation in his gut, and he reached into his pocket and slipped a pill into his mouth, the chalky, fruity flavor signaling the relief to come. He felt Pivari staring at him with a very judgmental eye, but he had grown used to it.

Aadi ignored Pivari and looked over the screens some more. His generals expected war. Most did not know about the Phoenix or the Anax-Hema, but what they did know was alarming enough. An Umpala had come. An unknown alien had landed undetected. Heracles had talked of possessing multiple battlecruisers. And Aadi's generals counted on the _Menelaus_ to anchor the defense of the planet. He wondered how long he would remain king if he sent the _Menelaus_ off on a secret mission just before the planet was attacked.

"This planet matters little," said Pivari, seeming to read his thoughts. Or maybe annoyed that he spent more attention to the status screens than to her badgering. "The Phoenix and the Anax-Hema is everything." She stepped closer and glanced around the room, seeming to make sure all the command center personnel seemed occupied with their duties and not listening in. "Malaran will be key," she whispered. "Many within the Order see her _only_ as a key, the bearer of the Anax-Hema _."_ Pivari's piercing blue eyes darted another quick glance around the command center, and her whisper softened even further. "A few among the Order, however, see her as so much more."

That wasn't a very convincing argument for Aadi. He plotted his little sister's fate enough himself. He didn't need everyone else doing so.

Pivari leaned closer, but instead of a soft whisper, her oddly-modulated voice seemed to reverberate through Aadi's bones. "Put her on the _Menelaus_ and let her fulfill her destiny."

Yes, thought Aadi. He should at least get her off the planet and ready to flee in case more starships arrived.

"Aadi," said a different voice.

Aadi felt like someone had disturbed a daydream, and he looked to see Tarok, his next oldest brother and his chief of staff, standing there dressed in his general's uniform. Tarok looked a younger version of himself, especially young since he chose to go clean-shaven. And his hard, green eyes were much more like Father's.

"Yes?" said Aadi as he forced his mind back to the present. He noticed that Tarok didn't seem too pleased to see Pivari, giving her dirty looks. Few people in the High Command were pleased with the Order's involvement.

"I thought you should know," said Tarok. "The Engineering Directorate discovered more sabotage on the _Menelaus_. The power systems to the Pilot's Chamber had been set to overload."

"I thought that had already been cleared," said Aadi. All the critical systems had been checked weeks ago.

"It had. This is new sabotage."

"Damn it," said Aadi. How are these people evading capture? He turned to look at Pivari. He hated to change his mind, it almost made him sick to his stomach, but he couldn't send Malaran to the _Menelaus_ until he was sure it was secure. "Plans will have to wait."

She showed no expression as she nodded her head to Aadi. She nodded to Tarok as well, and Aadi thought he could detect some disdain in her eyes then. Then she turned and walked from the command center. She paused after a few steps, and then she turned back to Aadi. "Hail Aadi, Lord Ashoka, _last_ King of Nuevo."

Aadi hated their stupid mysticism, but he found himself sucking in a big breath at the mention of " _last_ king."

Pivari turned, and as she walked from the room, she said, "The Umpala will arrive soon. Days perhaps."

#  CHAPTER NINE

_You can only fight the way you practice._

_\- Calistite maxim, taken from Miyamoto Musashi's_ A Book of Five Rings

Malaran stood atop the northeast wall of Citadel Buonarroti and stared out across the Vastedad Morada _,_ the great purple plain that stretched for thousands of miles in all directions _,_ pondering her future as well as the future of the galaxy. The musty smell of the purple grass drifted in on the gentle, early summer breeze while the citadel's power systems hummed faintly behind her. An entire way of life that would likely be coming to an end soon, one way or another.

Some of the humming came from the powered-up battle armor that was plated onto most surfaces in the citadel, which also reflected the midday sun quite brilliantly. The builder had chosen a particularly golden-colored battle armor. All the ancient citadels scattered across Nuevo seemed to have been built with a peculiar sense of artistic flair, like the style of the architecture had just as much priority as the beam emitters and missile launchers. The designer, Baroness Valina Medici from the long extinct House Medici, had been a genius with defensive systems, single-handily inventing the suppressor field that nobody else had ever been able to duplicate, even centuries later, but Malaran found her taste in architecture to be somewhat gaudy.

Each citadel had its unique touches, but the overall form was similar. Citadel Buonarroti had a triangular footprint with a tall triangular tower at each of the vertexes of the base triangle, about three hundred feet tall. The three towers arched gently inward towards one another for the first couple of hundred feet or so, then the top portions slanted sharply inward and provided the base of a weapons platform nested upon a lattice at the top, which included the vaunted suppressor field generator. Each tower mounted its array of missile launchers and energy weapons, and the very core of each tower housed a firing tube for kinetic weapons. And around the firing tube were nested personnel quarters where people lived and worked. In Malaran's citadel, one tower housed a priory for the Order, one tower housed the military staff, and one tower housed the royal accommodations.

The towers did include windows -- when not covered by blast shields -- but the windows could not be opened. To get fresh air, one option was to go out on the thirty-foot-tall walls that connected the towers. One could also go to the ground level or even atop one of the substructures at the base of the citadel, but the air just didn't seem as fresh to Malaran when she was stuck below the level of the walls, even if the lower courtyard did include a lot of greenery. These last few weeks she often found herself pacing the walls, thinking of her future, walking back and forth between the royal tower and the Order tower pondering which had the stronger pull on her.

The walls were about fifteen feet thick and included an open walkway up top to enable personnel to move between the towers. This normally included plenty of space for her to be alone with her thoughts, but today she had a squad of bodyguards shadowing her every move. Her babysitters were keeping her on an even tighter leash after the events at the Crucible. Today they had even requested that she wear her military uniform so that she would blend in with the bodyguards, everyone wearing House Ashoka colors of green and black. It had become something of a tradition for all members of the royal family to wear their officer uniforms on any occasion that included significant military involvement, but unlike her brothers, Malaran only had minimal military training. Father had other plans for her.

She wouldn't have minded the new babysitters so much if Leela was at least still around. At a certain level, Malaran didn't care who was guarding her, but she did want her friend back, even if she wasn't an official bodyguard. She had gone through a lot, and then they sent her only friend off on assignment. Back before the creature had attacked her, Malaran had been able to talk to Leela a few times using the royal comm system, but after the attack, she hadn't been able to get through. Leela's unit might have shut down all personal communications.

Corporal Haldar and his team, pulse rifles strapped over their shoulders, kept looking up at the towers as though there might be snipers here in her own citadel. She thought that might be a little paranoid, but she did think it prudent to take a moment to invoke True-Sight just to make sure that her bodyguards were who they appeared to be. The Calistites had been trying to screen everybody they could with the Sight, and Aadi's command staff had ordered that all the personnel assigned to the citadel to undergo some kind of secret testing they had devised. They were just getting started, though, and there was always some friction between the Calistites and the royal and military staff that prevented things from going smoothly and quickly.

Malaran did wonder what good her bodyguards would be if another one of those insect creatures showed up. The corporal and the rest of the team were all pretty serious men, no sense of humor like Leela and her old detachment, but she wasn't sure that would matter if all they brought to bear were their pulse rifles. There at the Crucible, energy fire from her staff didn't seem to give the insect creature any problems, and her staff was a more powerful weapon than a regular pulse rifle. She thought the Calistites would be better prepared to deal with something crazy like that, but Aadi didn't want any Calistites in her guard detail. Apparently, Aadi wanted total control of the babysitters. Wanted total control of Malaran.

Just as the stray thought went through her mind, a Calistite did exit the nearest tower through the blast door and came out to join Malaran on the wall. Malaran was somewhat surprised as she realized that the Calistite had come out onto the wall through the royal tower exit rather than the priory tower. She was obviously one of the newcomers though instead of a regular member of the priory -- the brown-eyed woman with light auburn hair that approached Malaran wore a dark navy bodysuit similar to what Jayana had worn rather than the simple black robe usually worn in the priory.

Malaran had noticed many new Calistites in the citadel after she had returned from the Crucible. Extra security she supposed. The priory that Kalima ran here at the citadel mainly trained acolytes and those not too long past Invocation and someone had apparently made the decision to bolster the priory with more experienced and higher tier Calistites. She learned that those that wore the bodysuits were typically from the Collegium Bellum. All Calistites trained to be warrior mystics, but most did not train to be _soldiers_. The original idea was for the Order to bring the mystical energies of the Void to bear in battle, even to fight alongside soldiers as Calista had at Athene, but not really to become _soldiers_ themselves. Those of the Collegium Bellum prepared themselves to one-day _lead_ soldiers in battle, and that meant becoming soldiers themselves to a certain degree.

As the Calistite approached, she nodded to Malaran as the bodyguards eyed the newcomer up and down. Malaran did wonder if that form-fitting bodysuit the Calistite wore encouraged more attention than necessary for security purposes. The woman wore her hair shorter in a similar style to Jayana, but she did not yet have the same eyes as Jayana or Qingniao. Not the eyes of an Elder. Outside of the eyes, she looked older than Jayana.

Whatever her age, she suddenly proved to be a very deadly fighter as her blade gashed through most of Corporal Haldar's right leg while her other blade swung up and split another guard open at the groin and upward into his waist.

Malaran stepped back, opening a siphon into the Void and activating her smart-metal bracelets, summoning her shield and battle staff as she assumed the Crouching Panther position. It was pure reflex has her mind reeled in shock, not believing what was happening.

One of the guards, Tandavo perhaps, moved to position himself between Malaran and the Calistite while the others tried to respond, but the Calistite, or whatever it was, was so damn fast that in a blur of motion she had cut down the other two bodyguards while Malaran and Tandavo had shifted into their positions.

As her mind tried to process everything that was happening, her first impulse was to wonder if this was another one of the insect creatures in disguise, but there had been no blasts of red lightning like before. Just the blades.

Her mind catching up with what she had seen, Malaran noticed that the Calistite's swords had a faint midnight-blue glow. The three-foot long blades had telescoped out from handles hidden in her hands before she had struck. The double-sided _daito_ blades had an extremely sharp edge, just molecules thick, able to cleave through flesh and maybe even bone like paper. Normally such a fine edge would dull immediately the moment it cut anything, but the energy of the Void kept the integrity of the blade.

Tandavo from his blocking position in front of Malaran fired a pulse from his energy rifle as the Calistite's blades swung free from cutting down the other bodyguards. The blue energy pulse deflected off a blade that the Calistite had miraculously swung into the right position and at the right angle.

Malaran's pulse, however, fired just a moment after Tandavo, caught the Calistite in the side, knocking her back and staggering her.

But that was all. No mortal wound had been burned into her torso. Again Malaran puzzled over who, or what, was attacking her.

Then she noticed that the Calistite's entire bodysuit had given off a brief midnight-blue glow when the energy pulse had impacted her, and Malaran realized suddenly that the Calistite's bodysuit must have been powered-up with the energy of the Void, much like how her shield worked and could divert most of the energy pulse. Powering the _daito_ blades took much less energy than a pulse weapon and apparently left enough power for the assassin to energize protection over her full body. Very few people in history were skilled enough in the Void to power a pulse weapon and full body armor, and the shield had become the preferred defense choice instead of partial body armor. Dealing with energized full body armor was something that Malaran had little training in.

"Keep firing!" Malaran shouted to Tandavo as she fired her another energy pulse of her own, but the Calistite was so fast.

As the Calistite cartwheeled away from Malaran's energy pulse, the telescoping blade in the Calistite's right hand retracted back to dagger length, and she threw it at Tandavo like a throwing knife.

Tandavo reacted pretty quickly, bringing his rifle up to protect his neck and face, but the blade spun lower, catching him in the abdomen. He grunted, then his legs gave out.

Malaran glanced down to see that the tip of the blade had pierced through and out of Tandavo's back, severing the spinal cord in the process.

A blur of motion brought Malaran's eyes back up as the Calistite leaped forward. Malaran fired, but the Calistite shifted her upper body at the same instant and had her blade in place to deflect the energy pulse. Somehow the Calistite had again turned her blade just right to deflect the pulse off at an angle instead of trying to absorb the impact, which would have probably disarmed her.

The Calistite landed into a forward roll, and the sprang up, cleaving off Tandavo's head before her blade crashed against Malaran's shield, the energy field of the shield repelling the energy field of the blade in a large spray of blue sparks. The blade did carve a long groove several centimeters deep into the smart-metal lattice of her shield before the blade became too dulled without the support of its energy field. Within a few seconds, though, the smart-metal shield repaired itself.

The wail of an alarm began sounding all over the citadel, and Malaran edged backward, staying on the defensive. Tandavo must have got an alarm off. Help would come. She just had to hold out. Which might not be that simple, she thought as arterial spray still splashed from a couple of the bodies in the bloody carnage behind the attacker.

The Calistite smiled at Malaran as she danced around, brandishing the gently glowing blade before her. Malaran wondered yet again if this really was a Calistite attacking her or some new disguise the Enemy had come up with.

Malaran danced around with her opponent, spinning her staff through various two-handed and one-handed grips as she spun her torso in quick mini-turns, trying to line up a shot as well as keep her shield in play between her and the daito blades. By instinct, her feet and legs constantly moved in quick, erratic movements designed to foil enemy pulse weapons.

Malaran didn't have any experience or training against this kind of weapon. These daito blades had been in vogue at various times centuries ago in House Musashi among the elites and top-ranking military officers, but the weapon had a major flaw that prevented widespread use. The handle was just too small to house a phasing tube or other technology required to enable the weapon to fire energy pulses. It was only good for close combat, but even in close combat one often found it handy to be able to fire energy pulses. Agema and Umpala combat tactics relied upon firing energy pulses while engaging in close combat.

All assuming of course that her opponent was human and not some insect creature that would blast her with red lightning at any moment. Malaran focused her mind for a moment, quickly invoking True-Sight, but nothing seemed amiss. She wasn't sure that meant anything though because at the Crucible the insect creature was able to hide its true form from the Sight; Malaran was able to detect that it wasn't Leela, but she had no idea who or what it was until it decided to reveal itself.

Malaran swung her staff in a short arc before her, trying to keep the Calistite or whoever she was at a distance, and she took the opportunity to glance back at the royal tower behind her to see if any reinforcements had come yet.

The Calistite apparently noticed this glance, and let out a small laugh. "Don't expect aid to arrive too soon, your highness. I sealed the door behind me."

"Who are you?" Malaran growled at her. "Are you even human?"

"Who I am," said the Calistite with a touch of indignation, "is someone who spent my entire life studying and training to follow in the footsteps of Calista, but instead ended up do nothing more than playing petty politics with a bunch of old women afraid of their own shadows."

Malaran had maintained True-Sight, and what Calistite said did not seem to be false. She seemed to believe what she said.

The Calistites voice changed to include a touch of bitterness. "Calista stood upon the face of a planet and wreaked havoc on a fleet of ships high in orbit. She invoked the power of the Void and annihilated dozens of ships, hundreds of miles away." Her eyes penetrated into Malaran. They were not the eyes of an Elder, but they were the eyes of one who spent many years on the path to becoming an Elder. "Has the Order even come close to teaching this? Five hundred years after the mighty Calista fell, are any one of us prepared to accomplish anything even remotely similar?"

"I kind of understand your frustration," Malaran said. "To a degree. But that is no reason to aid the Enemy. No reason to attack me." Malaran certainly understood someone becoming frustrated with the Order, but she couldn't understand how this frustration could lead to the slaughter that she just witnessed.

"It's nothing personal, your highness," the Calistite said nonchalantly. "But you are mistaken about me aiding the enemy. In fact, one day I shall annihilate the Umpala. Every last one of them. But first, we must break free from the plots and schemes of fearful old women concerned only about their political fortunes. And unfortunately, your highness, you seem to be at the epicenter of all these plots and schemes."

The Calistite lunged forward, executing several jabs and slices that forced Malaran backward, and then she backed up herself, snatching up the other daito blade that had severed Tandavo's spine. The blade telescoped back out to its full length and began to glimmer with a midnight-blue glow. She twirled the dual blades and smiled at Malaran.

Malaran wanted to keep her talking to give more time for help to arrive. Malaran thought she had the superior weapons, that the Calistite had probably chosen the daito blades because they would be easier to get past any weapon scanners, but her opponent probably had trained for combat for fifteen or twenty years longer than Malaran had. And just maybe that training did include swords such as these. Malaran had rarely visited a higher tier priory, so she didn't know what was taught there. "How's disrupting the Order's plans going to put you any closer to someday being able to destroy ships in orbit?" Malaran asked.

The Calistite stopped twirling the blades and held them crossed before her. She focused her eyes on the blades for a moment in what appeared to be intense concentration, and suddenly the dull glow around the blades changed from the midnight-blue tint and became a brighter, brilliant glow. A red glow. The same hue as the red lightning.

The Calistite eased back her concentration, and the blades shifted back to the duller, bluer glow. "One day I too shall rip starships from the sky."

"You made a deal with the Enemy," said Malaran with a sigh as she got a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"Not the enemy," said the Calistite as she shifted around waving her swords. "Someone who will aid us in destroying the Umpala. Someone who has real power and is willing to teach it."

"All warfare is based upon deception," said Malaran as continued to move defensively, quoting Sun Tzu, one of the maxims all Calistites learn. "Deceiving oneself is the surest way to defeat," she quoted Prioress Kalima's corollary to Sun Tzu's quote.

"Don't lecture me, little girl," said the Calistite as she slashed out with her swords.

Malaran danced back from the blades, and then said, "Even if you get past me, how will you escape?" The alarms still rang through the citadel, and from the corner of the eye Malaran could see that several vispas _,_ the giant flying wasps, along with their mounted riders had started buzzing by close to the citadel, airborne patrols likely coming back to check out the alarms.

The Calistite smiled, and then suddenly Malaran found herself staring at a mirror image of herself. A somewhat distorted image, though, the True-Sight revealing all the imperfections in the disguise. Apparently, the Enemy had taught her the disguise trick. Maybe the bodysuit projected a false image around her.

The Malaran doppleganger said in a close imitation of Malaran's voice, "Your guards will ferry me away to safety. Away from the dastardly Calistites that just tried to assassinate the royal highness. In fact, I, in your voice, will tell them that the Calistite assassin ran away and is currently hiding among the Order."

Malaran's heart sank. The disguise would probably work for a while if no one had True-Sight at their disposal, and the royal staff and bodyguards wouldn't have it at their disposal. They wouldn't trust the Calistites to come anywhere near Malaran after the bloodbath here on the walls. Maybe the alarm message that went out even mentioned that a Calistite was attacking the princess. Even if Malaran defeated the attacker and tried to explain what happened, there likely was going to be irreparable harm in the relationship between the House Ashoka and the Order of Calista. Aadi already had a lot of mistrust.

She just had no idea how these disguises worked or how to disrupt them. True-Sight would reveal the disguises, but none of her guards or the military staff here knew anything about invoking True-Sight. Even if reinforcements did show up, they wouldn't know which was the true Malaran. The assassin had probably planned for this contingency and would be prepared to take better advantage of confused guards. Malaran's best option was to take this impostor down quickly before anybody showed up.

She just wasn't sure that was possible. She had seen what Kalima and the other Elders could do when they had taken the starship. Old, gray-haired women had torn armed men apart with their bare hands. Literally tore them apart in many instances. She still remembered the sounds of human bone being ripped apart. Her opponent wasn't an Elder, but she was fifteen or twenty years closer to being one than Malaran was. Malaran had defeated an Umpala battle-shaman and had defeated the insect creature, but she tended to attribute a lot of that to luck. And that part which wasn't luck was her Calistite training. Maybe some of the "warrior mystic" stuff actually had sunk in. But that just didn't seem to count against a much more experienced warrior mystic who had the same teachers. In fact, psychologically, it was a lot like a little kid challenging a teacher.

But she didn't have any choice. She couldn't let the Enemy win. If she died today, then things would get really bad between Aadi and the Calistites. There would be no united front to stand against the Umpala. Nuevo would be doomed. What was left of humanity would be doomed.

"The flaw in your plan," said Malaran as she spun her staff and slid into the Striking Viper stance, "is that you must survive for your disguise to work."

The Calistite twirled her blades again and smiled. "I appreciate your resolve, Princess, but with all due respect, you're just a child. I had mastered the Striking Viper before you were even born."

"Be that as it may," said Malaran as she stepped forward. If she were to have any chance, she had to have some confidence. "I have defeated an Umpala battle-shaman in single combat, and I have even defeated one of your insectoid masters in single combat."

" _En garde_ ," said the Calistite as she crouched down into a fighting stance.

Malaran fired an energy pulse, but again, the Calistite jerked at the same instance and avoided the pulse.

Fore-Sight. The Calistite had to be invoking Fore-Sight.

Malaran focused her mind and tried to invoke Fore-Sight herself. She was becoming better and better every day at invoking Sight without the aid of the Oculus chamber and its ancient technology, though the technology in her staff probably helped. Her optic nerves began to tap into the probability matrix of the current reality, and a multitude of ghostly images blossomed around her foe, each depicting a possible action. The more likely actions appeared more corporeal, while the less likely actions appeared more ethereal. But the probability matrix relied heavily on the brain patterns of her opponent, and she knew she would have to be careful against such a well-trained Calistite. Higher-tier Calistites were trained to somehow sabotage their opponent's Fore-Sight in combat somehow. Supposedly they learned how to interject totally random maneuvers that the Fore-Sight could not predict, while some claimed that they were trained to momentarily shift their brainwaves through different realities, hiding the probabilities of the current reality.

The Calistite sprung forward, sliding past an energy blast from Malaran's staff, slashing with one blade while thrusting with the other.

Malaran stepped back as she countered with shield and staff, being cautious until she got a better feel for the blade forms.

Malaran had tried to shift her mind around when she fought the battle-shaman, but it didn't seem to work so well against his Fore-Sight. Malaran quickly tried some mental manipulations, trying to shift her mind around, but she was just grasping at straws. She didn't have hardly a real training in this sort of thing, something that would be taught later.

Then suddenly reality did change. Completely. She was somewhere else.

She stands on cliff among jagged rocky mountain peaks beneath a red sun. Before her stands not a false Malaran, but a swordsman in the red and black colors of House Musashi, wearing the distinctive long flowing skirt of a swordmaster. His black hair is tied in a topknot, and a sleek red-mirrored visor hides his eyes.

Past-Sight. Somehow she had triggered it. But not her own past. Kalima had called it a very rare talent.

_The smart-metal gauntlets erupt into fibers and reform into battle-staff and shield as she steps into the Wind Breaker stance. But those are not her hands holding her weapons. She is there in the moment, but looking through somebody_ _else's_ _eyes. But she feels the weapons in her hands, feels the chill in the air, smells the scent of maple trees in the breeze._

She seemed to be inside somebody else's body, actually reliving the experience. Apparently reliving the experience of one of the ancient Agema, based upon the sight of those smart-metal gauntlets transforming into staff and shield, the Agema's signature weapons. But this man wore the colors of the House Xander, dark blue and silver, instead of the black and silver the Agema wore during the time of the Empire. This must be from a period before the Empire. The Emperor kept his old colors when he acquired the throne, but the Agema's colors changed. They wanted to be viewed as truly elite forces, not just House guards.

_Demetrious Pileidis, having attained the rank of Kentarch in the Gamma Phalanx of the Agema is calm and confident. The frequent battles of the House Wars have turned him into a wise, battle-hardened veteran, being promoted to an officer through field-commissions. One of the best soldiers in all of the Gamma Phalanx, he had trained for months for this special mission to Onogoroshima, a House Duel, and he feels prepared to defeat a swordmaster. Though Demetrious has no special title, he is a master of staff and shield. After today, he will have a title and a new rank,_ Lord _Kentarch. House Xander will promote him to the nobility._

Malaran seemed to read his thoughts, not just see his actions. She had never heard of Demetrious, knew nothing of him or his history until this moment.

The swordmaster leaps forward as dual daito blades telescope out from his hands and slice out in simultaneous strikes. Demetrious counters with staff and shield, sparks erupting as energy fields collide, then he spins the firing head of his staff and fires a pulse that just misses the feet of the swordmaster.

Firing the pulse felt odd. The siphon into the Void just seemed different than what she was used to. It had to be because Demetrious was male, not a Calistite trained in the ways of the Void. If they were lucky, a select few males mastered just enough to tap into the Void and power their weapon. It was a great advantage to have a weapon that didn't require a power cell strapped to your back and never needed to be reloaded. But only a minority of people were capable of learning to tap the Void even this much, even with the technology in the staff doing much of the work.

The swordmaster dances around, testing his range. He has to stay close and constantly to negate the advantage of the pulse-firing weapon, but the battle-staff has superior range even when used traditionally without firing pulses. Demetrious came prepared to exploit this advantage. More blows are exchanged as the swordmaster still feels out his foe and deftly avoids any energy pulses. But this is the plan. Demetrious prepares to spring his trap.

Suddenly Malaran realized that not only did she know Demetrious's thoughts, she _remembered_ all of his training and preparation for this encounter. They reacted together in unison, her instincts mimicking his. She knew what he knew.

Some of the forms are a little different than what she had learned. The Agema of this period had not yet warred against the Umpala, had not yet been forced to change the forms to deal with bigger, stronger opponents.

Demetrious and Malaran wield the battle-staff and shield with determination and confidence. Maybe for the first time in her life, Malaran is totally confident. She has the battle-hardened skills of the mighty Agema at her disposal. She will crush the swordmaster.

_The swordmaster apparently senses the trap and changes tactics, the daito blades slicing close to home. Or perhaps he springs his own trap. But he fails, and Demetrious and Malaran in unison press the counterattack, sliding through the Striking Viper to the Knee Breaker to the Rampaging Dragon, blow after blow from the battle forms of the ancient Agema as staff and shield dance with dual daito blades in a frenzy of lighting fast strikes and counterstrikes. So many blows strike back and forth so quickly, it is like time has sped up_ _,_ _and Malaran gives herself over to instinct as the blows are exchanged even faster than thought._

_Then it ends. Demetrious's right arm is severed at the elbow in a quick lightning slice, blood spurting out in big gushes. One end of the staff falls limp, the wide two-handed grip becoming unbalanced without the right hand to support it. Demetrious's and Malaran's instinct still drive them on_ _,_ _but the loss of the arm is catastrophic against such a skilled opponent. Demetrious knows many techniques for using the staff and shield with one hand, but it is too much of a handicap against a swordmaster, especially one wielding two blades. As Demetrious defends against one blade, the other cuts a leg out from under him._

Demetrious and Malaran look up from the ground at the swordmaster, the heat of battle suddenly turning very cold as two limbs spray out the last of Demetrious's blood. He still can't believe he lost to the daito blades.

In a blink, Malaran returned to her body, standing again upon the humming walls of her golden citadel with the Malaran-disguised Calistite smiling at her deviously as she waved her blades. The entire vision had lasted less than a second of real time.

"Crap," said Malaran in a whisper. With all his experience, skill, and planning, Demetrious, a master of staff and shield, still lost to the daito blades.

She had somehow invoked a very rare talent, seeming to somehow inject her with mastery of staff and shield well beyond her years, and it all it did was pretty much prove conclusively that she was totally screwed.

But then she noticed something as she quickly turned and blocked the blades as the Calistite struck at her once again. Malaran still seemed to have all of Demetrious's training and instincts in her head, and these instincts were telling her that the Calisite was not moving right. There were flaws, some subtle, some more obvious. The Calistite was skilled with the blades, but she was no swordmaster.

Malaran, however, in this brief moment, was a master of staff and shield, Demetrious's memories and instincts still fresh in her head, still fresh in her muscle memory. And having two sets of memories and instincts simultaneously in her mind would probably wreak havoc on the Calistite's Fore-Sight. Malaran's brainwaves were from a different reality.

Confidence flooded into Malaran as she slid back into the Striking Viper and struck hard. A flurry of blows and counter-blows erupted for a moment, and then the Calistite jumped back, keeping her distance.

The Calistite frowned at Malaran. "How?" said the Calistite. "You are too young to hinder Fore-Sight."

Malaran just smiled back. The Calistite apparently realized that Fore-Sight was no longer working, but did she notice that Malaran had suddenly become an expert with staff and shield? Malaran hadn't performed anything particularly skillful yet, hoping to surprise her foe when she unleashed her superior abilities.

"No matter," said the Calistite, as she stepped forward to re-engage.

The Calistite would have to stay close now. Avoiding energy pulses without the aid of Fore-Sight would prove trickier.

Malaran stepped forward as well and began pressing the attack. Another flurry of strikes and counter-strikes erupted, but this one ended when Malaran's staff smashed into the side of the Calistite's leg, just missing the knee.

The Calistite jumped back again. She didn't seem to be too hindered by the blow, but it must have hurt.

The Calistite eyed Malaran. It seemed a little weird to Malaran to have her image staring her down so angrily. The alarm still wailed, and they still stood above the butchered bodies of her bodyguards, bloody footprints stamped all over the walkway tracking the progress of Malaran's and the Calistite's deadly dance. Yet now Malaran felt like she had total control of the situation.

Practically snarling, the Calistite said, "let's end this," as she stepped forward once more.

"Yes, I will," said Malaran as she stepped forward herself.

Malaran performed several basic moves as they initially clashed, and then she unleashed Demetrious's skills that she still had pulsing around in her head. Flowing through the advanced forms like an Elder might have, Falling Rain to Shadow Wind to Bound Tiger, she battered the Calistite back.

The Calistite avoided the various energy pulses Malaran fired, but Malaran was using the energy pulses to simple maneuver her foe to where Malaran wanted her to be. The Calistite was less deft at avoiding the physical strikes, and blow after blow began landing, the Calistite grunting each time the staff or shield smashed into her.

Malaran felt a certain thrill surge through as each blow landed, hearing the pain she inflicted on the Calistite willing to betray humanity, willing to side with the Enemy. The betrayer would regret it all before this was over.

The Calistite apparently got desperate and leaped several feet into the air, trying to come up over Malaran's defenses.

Malaran was ready, though, and she jabbed her staff into the Calistite's gut at the apex of her leap, the head of the staff slamming into the Calistites solar plexus. The head of the staff, the firing head, impacted hard into the softer tissue forcing a faint guttural moan to escape the Calistites lips, and then the Calistite went sailing through the air as Malaran released an energy pulse from her staff from point blank. The Malaran disguise vanished in that instant, and the Calistite's bodysuit glowed blue as she flew through the air. The powered bodysuit prevented the energy pulse from blowing a hole through her, prevented it from incinerating flesh, but a lot of energy still slammed into her body from point blank range and blew her back several feet.

And in dismay, Malaran watched the Calistite fly backwards out over the battlements of the wall and fall over the side. A thirty-foot drop. She wanted the Calistite alive. They needed to interrogate her.

Malaran ran to the edge and looked down just as the Calistite landed on her head, snapping her neck.

"Crap," said Malaran. She had got too confident, thinking she had everything under control.

A shudder suddenly ran through her body as Fore-Sight surged through her, no longer confined to the probability matrix of the immediate future that's used in combat, a vision of the near future, a high-probability future, blossomed into her mind's eye.

Umpala raiders maneuver in orbit around Nuevo.

_A giant rust_ _-_ _colored rock, almost two miles long, sits among a vast field of purple grass. Upon the rock stands a figure draped in shadow, it's face and form hidden from Sight, but the shadowy form turns as if it knows it is being watched. As if it sees the watcher._

Malaran inhaled sharply as the vision blinked out. She had rarely seen such a clear vision of the future. A high-probability future. As a lowly acolyte, her training in Fore-Sight mainly involved combat implications, looking at the probability matrix a few moments into the future. Looking further into the future was much more difficult to accomplish and much more difficult to interpret, so much so that even many of the Calistites didn't think it was worth the effort.

But Malaran somehow knew that what she had seen was a high-probability future, one that will occur in a matter of days. The Umpala were coming.

And she knew where the Enemy would be. At Lapenya, the great rust-colored rock in the middle of the Vastedad Morada.

Malaran decided that she would be there too. The Enemy kept coming for her. Now she would come for them. It felt right, somehow. Like destiny beckoned to her.

#  CHAPTER TEN

_The regulations put in place to prevent another Larsengard has caused much friction, particularly with those groups that had not been traditionally allied to House Ashoka prior to the Fall. We have caught many factions trying to circumvent the ban on high-technology, including the Cosaks, the Boltamen, and assorted Democratist organizations. And yet our biggest adversaries, the ones who complain most of Ashoka "tyranny," actually have very little interest in obtaining higher technology. In many ways, these regulations actually impact the hildagos very little since they prefer a static, low-tech existence. They just_ _don't_ _seem_ _to_ _be rational, and I worry that their irrationality may spread._

\- Journals of Lord Sarvin Jahnu Ashoka, High King of Nuevo (from 631 to 672 P.D.), recorded 649 P.D.

A hildago, just beginning to gray at the temples, kept looking at Taldageron, his dark blues eyes following Taldageron as he acclimated to his new surroundings.

Taldageron tried to ignore him and carry on with the mission. A few days ago he had walked in a Phulavana forest for the first time, and today he stood on the west coast for the first time. The "wild" west. Especially Puerto Juarez. The proverbial 'exception that proves the rule' for just about every rule on Nuevo. Hildagos and Niyatian nobles and wealthy businesspeople mingled together, sipping their wine and ale and chatting amiably together all around Taldageron as he checked out the spectacular view. Supposedly even a few Cosaks and Boltamen have been seen here.

As he looked down on the bustling, crowded city from eight floors high, it all seemed just as alien to him as that of the Phulavana. But hopefully, there would be no hybrid monsters or glowing fairy aliens lurking here. He wasn't sure what happened back there, a part of him insisting it must have been some kind of weird hallucination, a part of him insisting that it was all too real.

The view from atop _La Torre_ had its own level of un-realness, but nothing like being face to face with alien creatures. From here he looked upon the crowded, chaotic jumble of centuries-old urban sprawl. All these people living right on top of each other was so against everything everybody on Nuevo had been conditioned to believe was wise. The kings of Nuevo had always frowned upon providing the Umpala with high population targets. A few "cities" were tolerated for commerce, but the urban sprawl of Puerto Juarez was unlike anything else on Nuevo, warehouses and stores and apartment buildings and houses and whatever all crammed right up next to each other, a hodgepodge of building styles and building materials from various eras. Wood next to brick next steel next to who knows what that went on for miles and miles outward from the harbor.

La Torre itself had been built by the same people who had built the citadels, built of materials no longer found on Nuevo and reinforced by a low-level force field, protecting it from the elements here so close to the sea. And atop the open roof eight floors high, a swanky club for the well to do. The style was very hildago-like, furniture of fine leather and wood beneath embroidered umbrellas, a few _mariachis_ providing soft background music. The low-level force field extended over the club, allowing the fading sunlight to stream in but blocking some of the noise from the city as well as keeping the breeze from becoming too strong.

Here Taldageron mingled with the nobles and hildagos and the just plain rich, pretending to be one of them. Like just about everyone here, he wore a fine white shirt under a polished leather vest, dark pants, leather belt, and polished leather boots. It was the current style here in Puerto Juarez for both Niyatian nobles and hildagos, though the hildagos all included a fancy scabbard to hold their sword. They typically made their individual fashion statement with their choice of leather and the embroidery. Pantera boots seemed popular. Taldageron thought his attire seemed pretty much in line with everyone else, but one of the other patrons kept eying him, making Taldageron a little nervous that he wasn't playing his part as well as he had hoped.

Getting the stink-eye from a suspicious hildago though was much preferable to those glowing red eyes he encountered in the forest, though nobody believed the full extent of what he saw. He didn't even mention the _duende_. Nobody would believe tales of forest faeries. He was not sure he believed it happened. The claw mark on his shoulder though was clear evidence that he had at least run into a pantera, even if he couldn't prove it had an insect head and glowing red eyes. Captain Avangar and the others found it much more likely that a purplefooted hick ran into a pantera in the dark and the pure terror of it distorted his memory into a blend of reality and nightmares. Avangar said the pantera should be nightmare enough without embellishing it. He said that even a man with a pulse rifle rarely survives an encounter at night.

He would not say though who the Marines were fighting there in the woods or what they discovered. Taldageron wasn't a part of the Suraskar quite yet. Just one of their tools. They did seem genuinely pleased, and even a little bit impressed that he had survived his encounter with the pantera. Perhaps that was why they had confidence enough to assign him to his current mission. Hunting traitors. Not just ordinary traitors, but traitors of noble blood. A situation where a pretend-noble might come in handy.

As Taldageron watched the Niyatian nobles sit side by side with their hildago counterparts, smoking their cigars and sipping their distilled concoctions, he thought they _all_ looked like traitors. But that was the alienness of the west coast. Of Puerto Juarez.

Taldageron sipped his beer and walked the perimeter of the roof, getting his bearings, both of the city and of the personalities around him. It wasn't uncommon for young noblemen, particularly those not in line for much inheritance, to come west to find their fortune. It also wasn't uncommon to find these young noblemen trying to worm their way into the social fabric of Puerto Juarez.

He was used to playing the part from his struggle to get into flight school and to maintain his secret identity there, but he just wasn't sure that all this cloak and dagger stuff interested him anymore. If they weren't going to allow him to be a pilot, then he would kind of rather be himself. Perhaps join the Royal Marines. Fighting enemies with your pulse rifle just seemed more satisfying than all this business of sitting around and sipping cocktails with smug, corrupt noblemen in hopes of finding the one who was secretly a bigger bastard than the others. They did give him a stunner pistol, tucked into his boot, but he thought the chances of him needing it was pretty slim. The Suraskar would determine who the traitor was, and then they would deal with it.

Just about everyone Taldageron had ever known felt some trepidation where the Suraskar were concerned, too many stories of people being "disappeared," but he had no qualms about the Suraskar abusing any traitor that sided with those who used nuclear weapons against other humans.

Taldageron stopped for a moment to take in the port itself. He had seen the ocean before on the east coast, though not a port of this size. It was a massive port with everything from wooden sailing ships to mammoth electric powered cargo-carriers left over from before the Fall. The harbor here was the largest naturally protected bay on all of Nuevo. On the habitable continent anyway. Most people rarely gave a thought to the other continents since to go there would mean certain death.

Taldageron found this continent dangerous enough. Panteras with glowing red eyes. And perhaps the hildago who kept looking at him as though he knew that Taldageron was a spy. Taldageron suddenly had a disturbing thought -- maybe the traitor was actually in the Suraskar itself. Maybe this guy that kept staring at him truly _knew_ that Taldageron was a spy.

It could prove interesting. Taldageron had a natural aversion to noblemen, but he totally despised the hildagos. One murdered his grandfather. A hildago challenged his grandfather to a 'duel.' A _campesino,_ a peasant, could not refuse a hildago, even though campesinos are forbidden to own or train with a sword. The only time they are allowed to touch a sword is when a hildago challenges them to a 'duel.' It's ritual murder.

But this hildago would be in for a rude awakening if he challenged Taldageron. Taldageron's father secretly learned the sword, hoping for a day of revenge. That day never came, but he passed the tradition down to his son.

Taldageron took another sip of beer and turned his attention back to Lord Maldi, one of the most senior men present. Maldi was in his seventies, but other than the grey hair and weathered face, looked rather robust for his age, standing rather than sitting as he conversed with those around him. No crest for House Maldi adorned his attire, but he did sport a black and green shoulder cord declaring his loyalty to House Ashoka.

The Suraskar hoped that Maldi's loyalty remained true. Lord Maldi would be dangerous if he turned against the Crown. He had once served on the Intelligence Council for close to a decade, and one of his sons currently was a colonel attached to the staff at the High Command.

Because of his connections, he could be dangerous even if opposition to the Crown was not his intention. Greed or even carelessness could lead to the betrayal of certain secrets. One in his position might even think they know best about which secrets were worth hiding and which could be sold or divulged without true harm.

Taldageron had a hard time seeing why anybody, even the most radical hildago or Cosak or Democratist or Bhagavata, would intentionally ally themselves with a would-be tyrant who nuked fellow humans. But his experience told him there were people out there that just might do it -- people so self-absorbed in their own pursuits that they didn't notice or didn't care how it might affect others. The pursuit of individual goals without regard to the consequences to others had doomed many nations, many worlds, according to the history books.

The hildago that had been staring at him suddenly walked over to Lord Maldi. He glanced back once more to Taldageron, a small smile forming on his lips. He placed his hand on Maldi's shoulder, and suddenly something dark came out of his sleeve and moved across Maldi's shoulder. A centipede of some sort. Maldi had glanced back to the man and nodded, but he seemed unaware that something crawled across his white shirt.

Taldageron started walking towards them while he talked into the secret comm in his collar. "We have a situation here." Adrenaline began to flow.

The centipede just kept coming out of the hildago's sleeve, forming a loop around Maldi's neck.

The men that Maldi had been speaking to noticed the creature first, pulling back and pointing at it. Maldi maintained a nonchalant expression on his face as he started swatting at it. Out here on the west coast, overreacting to some bug could make you a laughingstock.

The hildago who had delivered the insect had stepped aside and looked to be trying to fade away from the scene.

As Taldageron approached, he shifted his angle to work his way between the hildago and the elevator. He had the stunner pistol tucked into his boot, but he focused on physically getting in front of the hildago and blocking his escape. Taldageron's years of practicing the sword had given him a good foundation for close combat training, and his years farming the Vastedad Morada had made him a lot stronger than most nobles he had encountered.

Maldi's expression did finally start to become strained as his attempts to swat the bug away proved to be less than effective.

The centipede suddenly wrapped itself tightly around Maldi's neck, like the slack being tightened in a noose.

One of his companions snapped out of the shock and stepped forward to aid Maldi, trying to grab the centipede with both hands.

Maldi's friend screamed as barbs or spikes bristled all along the centipede's length, puncturing through his hands and out the other side.

The barbs didn't only bristle outward. They apparently bristled inward too, through Maldi's neck and throat. Maldi fell forwards as blood gushed from all over his neck.

His friend screamed again as Maldi's fall ripped the barbs free from his punctured hands.

"Maldi's down. Assassinated," Taldageron said into his comm. Nobody else up here on the roof seemed to realize what was happening. They reacted as though a man in their midst suddenly had experienced something like a heart-attack, not as though one of their own was just murdered right before their eyes. Nobody moved to stop the assassin.

Taldageron shifted his focus back to the assassin who was maneuvering towards the elevator just as quickly as he was. Taldageron dashed forward the last few steps to get in front of the elevator first.

The hildago pulled up short and stared Taldageron in the eye. Up close, Taldageron thought he noticed a red flicker around the man's blue irises. It had to be his imagination.

"Who sent you?" asked Taldageron. He thought it was worth a shot and every little delay gave more time for the Suraskar to seal off the escape routes in case this guy got past him. It suddenly dawned on him though that while standing almost face to face with an assassin, he probably had better things to concern himself with than chatting. Like staying alive. But for some reason, compared to his encounter with the pantera, this didn't seem that bad. He was focused and calm. Ready for action.

The man let out a brief smile and replied to Taldageron's question. "The Lords Triumphant."

"I see," said Taldageron, not even sure that he heard the man right or if the man had spoken Universal or some other language. Hopefully, his comm transmitted the words, and the Suraskar could decipher it at some point.

"You will," said the man as he began to yank at his belt.

Taldageron shot forward and threw a roundhouse kick.

The assassin spun away from and under his kick and came back around and swept Taldageron's legs out from under him.

Taldageron let out a big "umph" as he impacted the roof -- the roof of a building that had stood strong for at least five or six centuries not compelled to give even a little by the impact of a mere man. He regretted not pulling out his stunner pistol.

As Taldageron rolled quickly back onto his feet, he noticed that the assassin had entered the elevator and just stood there nonchalantly looking back at him. His belt had wrapped around his arm, and all kind of strange insect appendages seemed to writhe along the belt.

Their eyes met, and this time, the whites of his eyes seem to glow with a faint red light.

Then the elevator doors shut.

"He got past me," said Taldageron into his comm as he fastened the comm receiver to his ear, hoping somebody would give him some direction. "He's in the elevator. A hildago with greying temples. He has something on his right arm. It might be a weapon." He chose to leave off the part about the red glowing eyes. For now. He did wish that Captain Avangar or somebody would reply back. He was kind of worried that nobody was bothering to monitor his comm channel.

Nearby he found the stairwell, and luckily it didn't require a key card to open. He would need one to exit onto any floor except the ground floor. Much of La Torre had become apartments for the rich and powerful.

With the stunner pistol now in one hand, he ran down the steps as fast as he could, trying to get down to the ground in time to at least follow the assassin. His leather boots were more for show and weren't the best for descending stairs in a hurry. "I'm coming down the stairs," he said into his comm.

He reached the bottom floor and just before he shoved open the doors, he said into the comm, "I'm coming out the stairs into the lobby." He didn't want to get hit by friendly fire.

He pushed out the doors, keeping the gun to his side, and saw that everything was quiet. He hurried towards the elevator just in case he somehow got down first. The decor of the small lobby area was very hildago-esque as well, dark with hardwood floors and wood paneling on the walls. A few high-end shops occupied most of the ground floor, surrounding the small common lobby.

Taldageron raised his gun just as he stepped up to the elevator. The doors were open, but it was empty. "Elevator is empty."

He immediately turned and headed for the building entrance, the heels of his boots clopping against the hardwood floors. He noticed for the first time that the building security people were not manning the front desk. When he had arrived at La Torre less than an hour earlier, a bored security guard had greeted people entering the building. "Security guard is gone."

Pushing through the main doors and feeling the tingling run all across his body, he passed through the low-level force-field that surrounded La Torre and plunged into the damp, fetid air of Puerto Juarez. The transition from the climate controlled interior to the dank, fishy-smelling streets was something of a shock to the senses.

The sight of the bodies and blood scattered across the sidewalk before him was an even bigger shock. His heart rate shot up.

Taldageron crouched down and raised his gun, scanning the area for the assassin as adrenaline surged through him, and his heart pounded away. Shops and little cantinas seemed to fill the upscale neighbor. They all seemed eerily quiet, especially as dusk approached. Nobody was on the paved street or sidewalk in the immediate vicinity. Everybody must have run for cover when the fighting started.

He looked down at the bodies. The security guard in his blue uniform and two others in white shirts under leather vests - pretty normal attire for this neighborhood filled with nobles. Both had stunner pistols just like the one Taldageron had in his hand. "Security guard and two others are dead on the street. Look like ours," he said into his comm. He only knew a handful of people in the Suraskar, but he thought it was a pretty reasonable assumption. "Burn marks. Not like standard pulse rifle wounds," he said as he glanced at the bodies and quickly turned away.

He wondered if the assassin had taken down three armed men by himself. This had begun to feel almost as intense as the encounter with the pantera. Especially as his mind processed all that he had just seen -- the man with the faintly glowing eyes, the centipede weapon, the insects writhing around on his arm, and now two or maybe even three armed and highly trained Suraskar agents murdered in the streets.

Just then Captain Avangar came running around the corner of the building. He wore a policeman's uniform, a square-cut, dark blue button-down coat with a high collar and silver badge attached to the front. It struck Taldageron as little strange to see a member of the secret police disguised as a regular policeman. But he saw its advantages. Nobody would question you when you ran down the middle of the street brandishing a military-grade pulse rifle, which is what Avangar wasn't currently doing. He also wore a full headset comm unit.

"With me, Shvank," he yelled as he cut across the street, heading towards the northeast.

The ground suddenly shuddered as thunder rumbled through streets -- an explosion perhaps, seeming but mere blocks away. In the direction that Avangar was heading.

Taldageron took a deep breath, and he ran to join Avangar.

#  CHAPTER ELEVEN

_I have seen the storm. It will come no matter what we do. Perhaps we should embrace it._

\- Journals of Bellona I, Sacrator Maximus of the Order of Calista (368 to 693 P.D.), recorded on the refuge world of Nuevo in 368 P.D. (1 year after the Fall of Man.)

Malaran still stood on the wall, looking over the carnage, but her mind raced trying to figure out how she could make it to Lapenya to hunt down the Enemy. Aadi might lock her up in one of the underground bunkers after hearing of an assassination attempt in her citadel.

Suddenly the sound of shattering glass grabbed her attention, and she looked up towards the priory tower as a sparkling fountain of broken glass, outlined in a midnight-blue aura, spilled from a window several stories above the wall. A figure in a black robe shot through the window, through the rain of broken glass, landing in a forward roll and springing her to her feet as though the three-story leap had been nothing.

It probably was nothing to Kalima. Malaran had seen her in action before.

Kalima glanced down at the chopped apart bodies and then focused her eyes on Malaran. "Are you okay?"

Of all the words she expected from Kalima, those were not very high on the list. Kalima still found ways to surprise her. Malaran just nodded her head, not thinking of any better response.

Malaran did suddenly get hit with a twinge of guilt. All these people died -- were slaughtered -- trying to defend her. Malaran had so been focused on fighting the Calistite and so adrenaline-charged that she didn't even pause to think about these poor people. She hadn't been too happy when Aadi had sent away Leela and the rest of her security detail and replaced them with these strangers, but these were still people. People who were sliced apart by daito blades while trying to save her life.

The whole sadness of it suddenly hit her in the gut, and she knew it would engulf her and maybe even make her cry if she let it. But she didn't let it. She pushed the emotion back and refocused on her situation. She took a deep breath and tried to get the key information out before the security forces arrived and took her away. "A traitor, a Calistite, came for me with daito blades. One with at least a little mastery of the red energy of the Enemy."

Kalima did raise an eyebrow at this.

Malaran motioned her to the battlements, and they both looked down at the broken body of the would be assassin.

If Kalima recognized the Calistite, she kept it to herself. "It looks like she had twenty or thirty years on you," she said. There was the barest hint of puzzlement when she asked, "How?"

Malaran shrugged her shoulders. "A form of Past-Sight, I suppose. I tapped into the memories and training of an old Agema soldier who had trained to fight a swordmaster."

Kalima did exhibit a very subtle mental flinch at this. Her lip moved just slightly as though she intended to speak, but then she stopped. Instead, she just nodded her head.

Malaran found herself raising an eyebrow at this, but then quickly got back to the task. "I need to get to out of here. I know where the Enemy is. Or will be. But once Aadi learns of this mess, he will lock me away in a bunker or worse. You have to help me."

Kalima didn't show much reaction but nodded her head. Hers eyes seemed to be processing everything that was happening.

In streaks of purple and yellow, five vispas shot up over the wall and landed near Kalima, their giant wings creating a lot of wind until they set down. Four vispas bore riders in the purple and black camo-suits while the remaining vispa bore only a riding saddle. As Malaran watched the riders, she realized they were all female. Calistites.

Malaran slid into Windbreaker stance as she eyed the newcomers. How far had the Enemy infiltrated the Order?

With a slight wave of the wrist, Kalima dismissed Malaran's response. "These are mine."

Malaran relaxed a little. As she looked them over again, she thought she recognized everybody now. All from her own priory, all students of Kalima.

Just then one of the riders tossed her a bundle that Malaran snatched out of the air. A camo-suit. And an animal-control amulet. A toy to the ancients, but an important piece of technology on a low-technology world.

"I can't say that I think going off to attack the Enemy now is the best strategy," said Kalima, "In fact, it sounds rather stupid."

Malaran cringed a little when Kalima said that.

"But," said Kalima, "I do think it might be a good idea to get you safe and out of the way until we can sort everything out."

That was better than nothing Malaran thought as she pulled on the camo-suit over her clothes, sliding the face cover over her nose and mouth as she adjusted the hood. Only her eyes remained unhidden. Once she got away from the citadel, she could make her way to Lapenya with or without the Calistites.

"You could come with me," said Malaran. "We could strike down the Enemy together. Like we did before on the starship." That had been the moment where everything had changed between her and Kalima, where Kalima had become more than just an overly strict teacher.

Kalima showed slight amusement as she glanced to where her right arm should be, the arm she lost in their little adventure, and then her expression turned sharper. "Now isn't the time to strike." She stepped closer to Malaran and lowered her voice. "The Umpala are near."

"I know," said Malaran. "I saw a vision as well. I also saw the Enemy at Lapenya. I must go there. I feel destiny tugging me there."

Kalima did show some surprise at this. Others probably wouldn't have noticed, but Malaran had trained with Kalima most of her life. "Lapenya? A vision revealed the Enemy at Lapenya?"

Malaran nodded. "A figure hidden in shadow. I couldn't make out the form or the face, but there was a being there able to hide from Sight."

Kalima signaled for Malaran to mount up on the vispa as she seemed to ponder the information about the Enemy.

As Malaran buckled into the saddle, she glanced at the other Calistites and then back to Kalima. "More babysitters?"

Kalima shook her head slightly. "They will aid you the best they can." Kalima stepped closer and said, "If destiny beckons you to Lapenya, then to Lapenya you must go."

Malaran nodded, but her mind was racing, trying to figure out if Kalima was manipulating her somehow again. Kalima had said a moment earlier that striking at the enemy was stupid, but then a moment later told Malaran to follow her destiny. She just didn't have time to worry about it too much now. She had to get away from the citadel before everything got locked down.

"Do what you can to keep the alliance between the Order and Aadi from completely falling apart," said Malaran as she buckled her riding helmet on, "but the harm might be too much. And just as all hell is about to break loose."

Malaran activated the animal-control amulet and felt the familiar sensation buzzing in her head; then she focused back on Kalima. "And watch your back. There's no telling how many other people the Enemy has turned. There may be other Calistites working against us."

Kalima held back a slight smile, and just gently nodded her head.

Malaran realized suddenly with all the adrenaline in her system from the battle with the rogue Calistite and the vision of the Enemy that she had been almost practically giving orders to the Prioress just now. A few weeks ago she would have paid dearly for such a mistake, but things had changed with Kalima.

Malaran touched minds with her vispa, bringing it airborne several feet. The other riders did the same.

Over the buzzing of the wings, Malaran looked down at Kalima. It suddenly struck her that with the way events were heading, this might be the last time they would see each other. She forced back the sadness once more, and Malaran bowed her head and touched her forehead with her fist, the most formal kind of salute that was typically only used on very special occasions. "I'll never forget all that you've done for me, Prioress Kalima Maria Varma," Malaran shouted over the noise of the vispa wings and the alarm still sounding through the citadel.

As the vispas rose and began to turn, Malaran shockingly heard Kalima's voice in her ear, some Calistite trick projecting her normal speaking voice through the distance and the background noise, "I don't have any intentions of dying soon, Princess Malaran Ashoka. I'd be sorely disappointed if you didn't intend to outlive me. The universe still holds much in store. Perhaps, just maybe, you _are_ the _Procellatrix._ "

#  CHAPTER TWELVE

_Treachery will always be a concern. Some thought that with the battle lines drawn so starkly, human versus the alien Umpala, that there would be very little concern of humans aiding the Umpala. But of course, that was proven incorrect over and over again even though the Umpala generally had little interest in recruiting human allies. What happens if this Darkness is eager to recruit human allies?_

\- Journals of Aemilia XVII, Sacrator Primus of the Sacerdotes Vacuum (673 to 698 P.D.), recorded on the refuge world of Mokupuni in 691 P.D. (331 years after the Fall of Man.)

Taldageron and Captain Avangar soon ran into groups of people heading the other way, some screaming as they hurried away from whatever was happening up the street. A pillar of black smoke rising over the rooftops seemed to mark the location. A few rickshaws and carts lay abandoned in the street. A _torthugan_ continued to lumbar down the road unattended, still pulling its massive cargo wagon behind it. During the third phase of their strange life cycle, the great armored amphibians spent most of their time on land and had become the primary beast of burden on both coasts.

Avangar shouted into his comm as he ran, "Activate the Rapid Reaction Force. Deploy forward scouts."

Taldageron wished he could hear the same comm traffic that Avangar did. He still hadn't heard a single word through his comm. Bringing in the Marines seemed like a pretty big escalation.

A siren began blaring behind them. Taldageron glanced back and saw a few police officers on electric bikes heading towards the smoke. The Crown controlled most of the motorized vehicles on the planet. He wondered if these were real policemen or more of Avangar's Suraskar agents.

As he turned his attention back forward, through a gap in the little shops lining the street, he could have sworn he saw red lighting flash by at street level. Then thunder shook the ground.

Taldageron decided maybe the Marines would be a good idea.

Avangar changed course slightly as he headed towards the red lightning.

They dashed down a narrow alley between buildings to get over to the next street quicker, and as soon as they exited the alley onto the main street, multiple pulses of blue energy pounded into the road next to them.

Taldageron leaped back towards the alley, while Avangar had dropped to the ground and rolled back.

The image of the street was frozen in Taldageron's mind. Dozens of people lay dead or wounded in the street. Some were on fire, the smoke from their bodies adding to the smoke of several buildings now burning. The pulse fire had come from atop a three-story building, the tallest on this street.

"Target is on top of the Amrit building," said Avangar into his comm. "He has at least a dozen armed friends. They have some kind of energy weapon in addition to pulse rifles. Eighth Street looks like a battlefield."

Taldageron agreed that it looked something like a battlefield, but most of the bodies appeared to be civilians. Were the hildagos attempting another insurrection? He just didn't understand what the purpose of all this was. The carnage just seemed so pointless. There had to be more going on.

"They knew we were on to Maldi," said Taldageron as the thought coalesced into his head. "This is all just to divert our attention."

"Maybe," said Avangar as he activated the camera-sight on his pulse rifle. A small targeting screen popped up. "Other teams are raiding Maldi's properties."

He quickly swung the pulse rifle around and peeked around the corner, trying to use the telescopic gunsight to investigate the enemy's position. He just as quickly pulled back as a blast of blue energy shot by, impacting the building on the other side of their alley with a small explosion of brick fragments.

Taldageron ducked and covered his face as he was pelted with small fragments of brick.

Avangar brushed the dust and debris from his face and said, "We're going to have to relocate soon." Then something seemed to catch his attention, and he glanced back up the street in the opposite direction.

Taldageron edged over to take a look in the same direction while trying not to expose himself to any enemy fire from the building. About a hundred yards away, a vispa buzzed around the rooftops, moving in an arc around the Amrit building. One of the forward scouts for the Rapid Reaction Force assigned to backup Avangar and his agents.

A series of blue energy pulses shot from the building towards the vispa, but it constantly changed direction as it buzzed around, making it very hard to hit at over a hundred yards away. It did seem to move back, though, increasing the range.

Avangar edged up to the corner of the building again and leaned out just enough to aim his pulse rifle, and then he began returning fire.

Taldageron wished he had something more than his stunner pistol, which was pretty much useless at this range. _He_ felt kind of useless.

Avangar pulled back just before the corner of their building exploded in a small blast of shattered brick as a blue pulse caught the edge as it shot by.

"I think relocating would be a very good idea," said Taldageron. Whoever was shooting at them would soon realize they could probably shoot them through the building. The brick walls wouldn't stand up to pulse fire for long.

"Got to keep them distracted for just a few moments longer," said Avangar.

Just then blue energy pulses shot by, but this time heading towards the building. Somebody else had joined the fight.

Taldageron leaned in again and peeked around the corner. Several vispas had moved in closer to the building, firing at the top, while from various other positions people on the ground and top of other buildings fired at it too. The tower shone like a fountain of sparks as blue pulses streaked in from all directions and shot out in all directions.

Then explosions rocked the ground and thundered through the sky. An assault shuttle came streaking in from higher altitudes, its main cannon blasting away.

In that instant, all the blue pulses stopped. The people firing at the tower stopped, and the people firing _from_ the tower stopped.

In the frenzy of all that was happening, it took Taldageron a moment to realize that the assault shuttle's main cannon should have inflicted massive damage to the building by now. But it had not. It was firing blanks. A diversion.

Once that cannon started firing, everybody on the roof would have been diving for cover or trying to get as far away as possible.

Taldageron quickly surmised that they wanted the assassin taken alive if possible. The assault shuttle could have taken out the whole rooftop in seconds if it had been so ordered.

The shuttle came in and turned hard as it rapidly decelerated into a holding position over the building. The exits sprung open, and Royal Marines began pouring out and leaping down on droplines, computer-controlled elastics cords. Taldageron thought he saw the elite Nagas in their distinctive uniforms of black scale armor and green headdresses lead the way.

But just as the first Naga touched down, red lightning shot from the top of the building, striking the shuttle hovering not more than thirty or forty feet away. A thunderous blast shook the ground as the shuttle blew in half in a brilliant red fireball.

The front part of the shuttle and the command deck was blasted away, twirling and on fire as it shot into a nearby strip of shops, creating another large blast upon impact.

Taldageron stood there mesmerized as the rear section twirled too as is it spun away, shooting out in his direction, completely engulfed in red flame and flinging burning debris and burning Marines. It mostly disintegrated before it crashed down in the middle of the street right in front of Taldageron.

This was madness.

Avangar grabbed his collar and pulled him back into the alleyway just as fiery debris tumbled past him down the street.

"Negatory! Negatory!" Avangar shouted into is comm. "There'll be nothing left to recover."

Taldageron forced away his shock and tried to look around the corner again. There was a chance there might be survivors in need of assistance. It would be a very small chance after the destruction he had just seen, but perhaps _some_ chance. As he appraised the carnage, fiery debris scattered in a large radius, fiery _bodies_ scattered as well, he saw somebody come out of the Amrit Building. The assassin.

"It's him!" he shouted to Avangar, and then he started running towards him as fast he could.

"Standby!" Avangar yelled. "He's on the run, heading northeast."

Quite a few pillars of dark smoke had blossomed up from multiple locations, and as Taldageron skirted past burning wreckage and debris, he did kind of wonder if maybe this was a good idea. Someone had just shot an assault shuttle out of the sky, and he was charging after him with a stunner pistol.

Taldageron had to watch his step as he ran because of all the obstacles -- fires, bodies, big chunks of shuttle debris, and pave stones that had been knocked free and scattered all over the road from all the impacts -- so he was taken by surprise when he rounded a big piece of shuttle debris and found the assassin suddenly standing before him.

The hildago's clothes no longer suited a nobleman -- frayed and dirty. His boots and scabbard were scuffed and scratched. His hair had become disheveled, and black soot coated one of his cheeks. Perhaps a nobleman having a really bad day, yet other of his features might make one question whether he was even human at this point -- not only did his eyes seem to glow an even brighter shade of red, but his right arm, the arm that he had wrapped with strange belt writhing with insect parts, now had become something out of nightmares, some new appendage of sharp, jagged chitin. Long, super-articulated 'fingers' covered with jagged spikes and hooks rippled in motion as he smiled at Taldageron.

Taldageron just stood there as his mind tried to process what he was seeing.

Avangar collided into Taldageron's back, apparently rounding the same shuttle wreckage and not having time to stop when Taldageron suddenly appeared before him, just standing in the street.

Just as Taldageron tumbled forward, red lightning shot from the assassin's nightmarish arm as a thunderclap rattled the ground.

The light and noise left him a little dazed as he fell to the ground, but he suddenly realized that a fireball blazed where he had just been standing. Where Avangar had just been standing. It was that nightmarish arm that was the energy weapon that brought down the assault shuttle.

Taldageron pulled up the stunner pistol and fired and fired and fired.

The green beams kept hitting the assassin, but he resisted. He should have been totally paralyzed as many times as he had been hit, but the hildago was able to grimace as he tried to point his grotesque arm at Taldageron, slowly shifting his aim over, pausing for a moment each time a stunner beam hit him.

Taldageron rose to his feet as he continued to fire, moving in a circle around the assassin, making sure the deadly arm did not line up with him.

Then the stunner pistol stopped firing. Taldageron squeezed the trigger a few more times, but he was pretty sure the charger was out of juice.

The assassin still moved like he was dazed and stuck in honey, but Taldageron doubted it would last long. He glanced over at the fiery remains of Avangar to see if his pulse rifle was still intact, but he saw no sign of it. There didn't seem to be any weapons around. Not a real weapon anyway. He supposed he might have to grab a pave stone.

Then he heard a small chuckle. The hildago was regaining his muscle control. And his nightmarish arm began to more quickly spin in his direction.

Taldageron sighed, but then his eyes locked on the hildalgo's sword. Better than a pave stone at least.

He leaped the short distance separating the two, coming up behind the slowly turning hildago, and drew the sword from the man's scabbard. He quickly glanced at the blade to make sure it was real steel and had a true edge.

Normally he might have hesitated to take a blade to such a disadvantaged opponent, but this opponent seemed more a monster than a man. He took a step back and raised the sword, but suddenly he had some doubt -- kill the assassin immediately, or try and take him alive. Then he knew. He would hamstring him -- cut the muscles and tendons in the back of his thigh and cripple him. That was something they had practiced when his father had taught him the blade.

He ducked barely in time as the assassin's slow movement suddenly sped up to normal speed, the nightmarish arm swinging at him. He could feel its wake across the top of his head as he was almost too slow.

Taldageron slammed the blade into the back of the man's thigh.

Lightning and thunder blasted his senses again, temporarily blinding and deafening him. As he forced his attention back onto the assassin, he saw the hildago on his back, rage written across his face. The assassin must have fired his weapon by accident as the blade cut into him.

But now he was trying to point the weapon, his hideous arm, at Taldageron.

There was no way he was going to take him alive as long as that arm could keep shooting lightning at him. He leaped forward as he brought the sword up over his head in a two-handed grip, and then he chopped down at the man's shoulder.

Another blast of lightning and thunder shook the ground. It shook his senses again too, but he could distinctly feel the burned flesh on his side where the red lightning had grazed him.

He looked down at the grotesque arm, still attached to the bloody shoulder, still covered in a faint red glow. He brought the sword up and again chopped down with both hands. This time, there was no thunder, just the screams of the assassin. Taldageron kept chopping, and the assassin kept screaming until the arm was separated from the body. Then they both stopped. The assassin's dead eyes no longer glowed red.

Taldageron took a deep breath, and fell to the ground, sitting next to the dead assassin as the dismembered arm twitched and writhed on the broken pave stones. He spoke into his comm, hoping somebody was listening on the other end. "This is Shvank. The assassin is dead. Captain Avangar is dead. And I've recovered the energy weapon."

"You cut it awfully close," said a voice from his comm.

Just then three aircraft streaked by overhead. Skeiron Mark 3's from what he could tell. Heavy assault fighters from the _Menelaus_ that had been distributed to the various military districts to beef up their firepower.

This was much bigger than any hildago rebellion. War had begun, but he had no idea who or what the enemy was.

THANKS FOR READING!

This ends the 12 free bonus chapters. 20 more chapters remain in _Call to War_

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