Sigil of the Wolf - 30. Chapter 30

R-403 - Ordinance Depot A-IX, Amsus Hegemony

Darien sat aboard R-403 studying the storm out of the cockpit windows, watching it blow rain across the city that they had successfully liberated. He cradled the mug of warm cocoa, glad to be out of it and for the moment, dry. A ripple of lightening crackled in the heavy clouds, the remnants of the electromagnetic storm dying, making way for a light rain that splashed across the window as he sat there silently in the gunnery seat. He needed to be alone.

He was supposed to be leading his men to Ordessus, soldiering on no matter what happened. Strong and powerful, bringing hope with him. People depended on that hope...

He was supposed to stop Rikard, stop the Amsus super-weapon, and get his ship back.

He habitually rubbed his thumb and forefinger, feeling the stiffness in the muscles, leaning forward tiredly resting a hand on his forehead and closed his eyes.

"Lot to take in," Riley said from the doorway.

Darien started, nearly dropping his mug of cocoa, catching it before it could tip over. He fumbled a moment with it and set it atop the console.

"I can go," Riley said as he jerked his thumb back behind him, "Just figured you'd need someone to talk to."

"What makes you say that?" Darien asked, shaking off some of the cocoa that had spilled on his hand, glancing back out at the dark, rain soaked sky.

"'Cause I've been where you are." Riley replied, slipping through into the space where the pilot's chair had once been, sitting down in it, careful to avoid the ragged mountings. He tucked a knee up and rested his chin on his arm. "I'm General Riley..." he held out his hand.

Darien stared at the older man's hand. "You're General Riley?" he asked, faintly amused; it was like someone bounding in and calling themselves Santa Claus, certifiable on some worlds.

"Right..." Riley said, smiling as he sat back looking into the young Highlord's eyes, reading the scepticism, "It started out like a good idea, you know..." he tilted the red leather tunic so the five black stars in a circle caught the light, "Pop on the uniform, rally the troops. But then things get out of control, you get caught up in the lie and suddenly..." He looked distant, "It gets so much bigger than it actually is."

"Who are you really?" Darien asked, understanding the man's situation. God, he was living it, caught up trying to give hope to people clinging to every last shred...

"Well I am a Riley, which I guess is what made me take to it so well," Riley said, bracing his elbow on a pedal as he smiled lopsidedly, "Jonathon Riley, I used to be a politician." He laughed, "Not a very successful one."

"TER-SEC," Darien offered, "Detective Inspector, San Francisco PD..."

"Dirty Harry," Riley smiled. Catching Darien's blank look, he shrugged, "I was a big history buff," Riley sighed, shifting to get comfortable, eyeing the Highlord a moment. "When I was a punk kid I started scrawling political slogans on a wall, signing it with a V..." he leaned back smiling, "I thought I was being cool, V for VonGrippen...Victory... then the Amsus propaganda machine got a hold of it, and it became a sound byte. V became five and eventually 'Fifth Column terrorists' became a convenient lie for them to hide the fact that they were arresting anyone who disagreed with the Hegemony party line." Riley shook his head. "So I figured, hey, this is a good idea, turn it back on them. If they wanted a Fifth Column, I'd give them one..."

"You gave them a real General Riley," Darien chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "They have a way of creating the things they fear most..."

"Started out being a couple of cells here and there," Riley kept on, "Eventually the Inquisitors took more of an interest, and we had to hide on backwater worlds..." Riley shook his head. "You know what I was doing here?"

"What?" Darien asked.

"I was trying to get my people a ship and slip through to the Taïrian side of the lines, get them to safety..." He shook his head, "I was getting the hell out of here."

Darien looked over at the man and nodded. "I was simply protecting someone I love. Fate forces unlikely men into impossible situations. So if the Amsus created a 'General Riley', leader of the Fifth Column, I say we stuff that lie back down their throat and make them choke on it."

Riley looked up. "Well, who am I to argue with 'Highlord' Taine?"

Darien pulled a piece of paper from the back of an Amsus flight manual. Pulling a pen from his pocket he wrote out the commission, smiling and remembering when Walker had done it for him. 'For hope'... He signed it and held it over to the newly promoted 'General' of his House, "Symbols are important things," he said, "I can't use Riley the Politician, but General Riley..."

Riley accepted the piece of paper, folding it and tucking it away in his pocket. He patted it and smiled, "The Fifth Column is at your disposal, Highlord."

"The Empire needs all the support it can get," Darien said, cradling his head against his arm, "We're not going to win this war by conventional means, we're out gunned, out numbered and running out of money..."

"He's salvageable," Firlotte stated, coming forward into the damaged cockpit, making notes on a clipboard as he walked, "We're standing on an Amsus supply depot. There are plenty of spare parts, and a Raptor is mostly modular parts, you swap out the broken parts and plug in working ones..."

He paused, looking down at the General and the Highlord cradling a mug of cocoa. "I can come back..."

Darien stretched in his chair and looked at his watch. "No, go on Mister Firlotte, you were saying?"

Firlotte nodded and thumbed through a clipboard. "Well, it shouldn't be too hard to get him up and running again. A week, five days at a push..." He shrugged, looking uncomfortable, "I..." he jerked his thumb behind him, "...Should go and see if we have everything on hand..."

"No problem," Darien replied, smiling at the nervous young man, letting him go. Firlotte was a damn good engineer in his own right, but he lacked Elias's...

Edward, he admonished himself. He had to accept...

"So," Riley waved his hand, "Why do you keep calling this ship a him?"

Darien shook his head and focused, tapping the console. "Amsus only use masculine references, so he's a he."

Riley shifted where he sat. "This is going to sound odd, but where are all the Amsus girls anyway? Has anyone seen one?"

"There are Amsus Queens," Darien said, "in hive ships, though no-one's gotten close to a hive ship to confirm this."

"They're going to have their hive ships at Ordessus." Riley interjected, "Important staging point like that, they'd want their hive ships close at hand."

Darien swirled the dregs of his cocoa around his mug as he looked thoughtful. "We can't get too ambitious. We're hitting the base to destroy the Propylons and to recover the Excalibur."

"How many men do you have?" Riley asked, the look on his face suggesting that his wheels were turning.

"About ten thousand," Darien said, "Mostly infantry, but we have decent mech support. However, we have no fighter cover; the fighters we do have are mostly space superiority or interceptors."

"Amsus HIMs and LIMs are a bitch," Riley commented, referring to the Heavy and Light Infantry Mechs the Amsus used to back up their invasion forces, "But slow. As for fighters... if we're clever, they'll be too busy chasing your fighters to do much good on the ground."

"You don't sound optimistic,' Darien said, shifting in his seat.

"I'm not," Riley said, resting his head back against the console behind him, "I've reviewed the distribution logs of the Amsus Armada. The mainstay of their fleet is at Ordessus." Riley cracked open an eye. "How important are these Propylons?"

"If we don't destroy them," Darien said, "We've as good as lost the war."

"Figures," Riley shrugged, "Well, I hope the Empire has good health benefits."

* * *

She was angry.

He thought she was helpless. He was wrong.

The computer core flared to life again as the holographic projectors resolved the image. She activated the program one more time, for no other reason than that it was a way to ease the lonely feeling she had had since Kit was gone.

The old man stood in the centre of the room above her main storage core, the blue vat of liquid light beneath his feet, casting him in a strange blue glow.

"I'm sorry I had to leave you," his accented voice rumbled tenderly, and she wanted to reach out to him, despite the fact that she knew he wasn't really there. He was like a father, a lover, a master and a son all at once. She trusted him, as she did the young Taine, but there was only one VonGrippen.

"I have left you with the means to defend yourself against what is aboard you." VonGrippen walked across the chamber and touched the memory banks, and Excalibur remembered that touch, that strong hand that wielded her. "You will find it tucked into the back of your primary defence subroutines. The activation code is 'VonGrippen-Alpha-Omega-Prime'."

The old man paused, turning back to face down at the blue vat beneath him, at her. He knelt and rested a hand on its surface, "I'd like to think that wherever I am when this message plays, I am watching out for you. And that I know that you are being cared for. Do what you must do to preserve yourself, and your new crew."

She glowed. She wasn't about to allow anything to happen to her crew.

She had accessed the file, working as fast as she dared without risking discovery, drawing nano-bots off of her hull and using them to find the raw materials she needed. She'd stripped the inside from one of the ITEs in the mech bay, assembling the parts slowly; she had built it exactly as VonGrippen had directed. The creation neared completion as she fitted the photo-receptors into place, transferring the combat routines into its independent memory core, activating it once it was ready.

* * *

BOOT SEQUENCE ..........................100%
COMPLETE
COMMAND LINE INITIALIZED...............

The Ezekiel program came online, processing the information fed to him by the Excalibur's tactical sub-routines, size and distribution of the enemy forces, the location of his primary objective on the bridge. The secondary objectives were highlighted and location data fed to him, the positions of the secure holding areas where the Excalibur's crew were contained.

He also processed the onboard security footage of the ship, studying the fallen bodies of the Excalibur crew, analysing how they had been attacked, devising counter measures for the typical Amsus tactics. The program devoted a high amount of his processing capability to studying the crushed guards on the bridge: psionics.

He accessed a tactical file on proven countermeasures. He swept on through the ship, stopping on the rent and torn body of a marine sergeant before the ladder to the bridge, noting that the pattern of his injuries was inconsistent with the weapons employed by standard Amsus troopers. Bladed weapons of sorts, the strike patterns indicated that it was of humanoid build, standing two hundred and thirteen centimetres. He filed that away as well; there was something that attacked in a non-conventional manner onboard the ship, and he would deal with that too when he had to.

His tactical review complete, he took over control of the nano-bots, setting them to the task of fabricating his body, tailoring it to the situation and what he needed to accomplish his objectives. Scanning through Excalibur's extensive xeno-biological database and selecting appropriate models to base his design upon, he settled back and waited for the microscopic robots to finish their task.

When he could stand, he did, the points of his metal legs clicking on the deck as he scuttled forward, a gauntleted hand reaching into an ITE's supply locker and pulling out the adaptive camouflage sheet which he pulled about him, the sharp blades attached to his shoulder joints sliding through the sheet as it settled about him like a cape. The pattern of his improvised cloak danced and wavered as it approximated the surrounding environment.

He swept a mechanical hand out with an almost sublime grace and opened the hatch of the ITE, descending to the deck, his form compressing down and folding neatly underneath his makeshift robe as he walked with deadly intent back along the Mech bay towards the first knot of Amsus troopers.

* * *

The trooper spotted the trio of red orbs materializing in the darkness further up the deck; one large glass eye adjusting its optics to focus, as the pair of smaller ones alongside it remained motionless, locked on their target.

Whatever it was, it didn't belong there; the trooper lifted his rifle, the light under the barrel sliding off of the adaptive camouflage of the cloak, and glittering on the sharp-hooked blades protruding from the shoulder cowling.

The trooper communicated a warning through scent to his companions, the other troopers raising their own weapons, trying to work out what it was that was advancing upon them. The rapid clicking of metal on the deck plates echoing through the corridor as it swept forward, a slight rustling from the cape as it advanced steadily.

The first trooper sighted in with his rifle, tapping the trigger and sending a controlled burst of fire into the intruder, his companions doing the same. All of them were shocked when the thing continued to advance. A metallic hand swept the adaptive camouflage aside, revealing the eight-foot tall metallic body.

It began to unfold as more bullets bounced off of its armour plates, the blades snapping out like switchblades as its secondary arms decompressed and extended, massive hands that uncurled and flexed as the machine rose to a full twelve feet in height, a large whip-like tail sweeping back and forth as the blade-like tip poised, ready to strike.

Within seconds the troopers died.

* * *

Rikard watched as his fleet completed its final jump into the Ordessus system. The ordered ranks of the mainstay of the Amsus invasion fleet gave him a moment's elation; it was the tool by which he would restore tranquillity to the universe. His perfect utopian order.

The Excalibur's escorts pulled away, taking up their prearranged positions amidst the fleet that would, in days, pour towards the Imperial lines, smashing through them and taking back all the territory that had been lost. His troops would spill through Propylon gateways into Imperial outposts and stations, overrunning the hopelessly outnumbered Imperials.

He motioned to the Inquisitor, guiding the ship towards the Amsus station, commencing docking procedures that would slide it into the waiting dockyard. The former Chancellor smiled as he recognized the Shifting Sands in the berth next to it. They had recovered his ship; at least there was that.

He stood, stretching. Days of travel were finally at an end, and all the pretences of the past few weeks were over. He would be able to return to his main objective... he lifted the Peligian diary and turned it over in his hands.

The Inquisitor stiffened. "My lord..."

Rikard smelled it too, the distinctive scent of trouble from the soldier drones. There were times when the Amsus method of communication was far superior to that of human speech; not dependent on radio, its danger warnings were relayed from trooper to trooper on up the chain.

His fists tightened; a miniaturized mech on the loose, cutting a swath of destruction in his direction. He reached out to touch the Excalibur's command chair, feeling her elation. Daring him to do something about it. He drew his hand back; the ship itself was fighting him. He sneered, tucking the diary under his arm as he walked back across the bridge. "Praetorian!"

He felt its presence seconds later. "Find this thing and destroy it!" he ordered, turning back to his Inquisitor, "Fetch me the Sub-Lieutenant," he commanded, returning to stand beneath the large observation window, watching the station they were closing on. In a few minutes they would dock and he would have his troops sweep the ship from stem to stern, clearing out any other little gifts VonGrippen had left aboard his precious ship.

He angled his head as the Inquisitor brought the young woman out onto the bridge, pointing to the command chair. "Call off the Mech!" he demanded.

* * *

The trooper crashed along the floor, sliding lifelessly across the mess hall, crashing through chairs and knocking a table aside. Ezekiel rested one of his large Mech-sized arms on the counter, the wicked tail thrashing to and fro, the sharp point dancing hypnotically as the trooper before him tried to reload his assault rifle. It struck with a scorpion's speed, flicking the body into the kitchen, smashing pots and pans as he collided with the ground.

The Mech's head rotated, his photoreceptors focusing as his audio receivers picked up something at the door. His optics registered nothing, yet he could hear it moving towards him, stalking him as if he were prey.

The metallic tail swept around, connecting with something halfway across the room as an invisible assailant smashed against a table. One of the large Mech hands slammed down, pinning the creature to the floor as they scooped it into a tight grasp, pulling it towards him for inspection.

It hissed and clicked, its natural camouflage fading as it materialized in his grip, wrestling, trying to get free of the massive metallic hand that held it firmly.

"Interesting," Ezekiel stated, his synthesized voice devoid of any emotion, seconds before he drove the creature against the floor, crushing it into a slimy orange paste, the Mech compressing down as he swept his adaptive camouflage about him and continued his passage onwards towards the bridge.

* * *

Rikard stared into her deep brown eyes, trying to read past her defiant look to the confusion he had seen there before.

"Stop the Mech!" he repeated, deathly calm.

"No!" the Sub-Lieutenant glared back at him, "What's the matter, divine god-like powers don't extend to dealing with a toaster oven hell-bent on kicking your ass?"

Rikard ignored the insult, turning to his Inquisitor. "Order the technical crews to blow the jump drives." He turned his head back to the Sub-Lieutenant, "I will not lose my prize to you."

Galadriel folded her arms. "What's the matter Chancellor, afraid?"

Rikard's icy calm slipped a little. How did she know? A guess, the girl was bluffing. He gave her a charming smile and reached out his hand to lightly brush her face. "You're entirely too beautiful to be so filled with hate..."

There was a loud crashing coming from the stairwell and Rikard gestured to the Inquisitor and the remaining troopers on the bridge; they swarmed towards the connecting corridor, taking up firing positions to protect their master.

* * *

Ezekiel tore the doors from one of the two elevator shafts that led up to the bridge, his tactical programs predicting that the Amsus would be covering the stairwell, the Mech leaping into the shaft as his larger arms spread out to brace him against the shaft walls, his smaller arms reaching out to grasp the cables as he began to climb, moving with a deadly speed upwards towards the bridge.

His hand slammed into the elevator doors and pulled them away as he hauled himself up into the connecting corridor, the Amsus trying to stop him as he wassailed his way into the middle of their platoon, bringing with him death.

* * *

Rikard watched the thing as it attacked, closing his eyes and stretching out with his senses to study it, probing for weaknesses. Gritting his teeth, he closed his mind around it, willing it to be still.

Before him the Mech swung his arms to pulverize a trooper, the flat of his metallic palm grinding to a halt mere inches from the trooper, held by the air pressure that had become as hard as steel around him.

He rotated his head, studying Rikard lost in his concentration; his spare secondary arm rotated and discharged the skewer, the barbed piece of shrapnel slamming into the former Chancellor's chest, the head separating from the shaft as a micro-drill sent it spiralling into his body.

Rikard's eyes flew open as he grasped his chest, coughing as he felt the deadly projectile boring its way deeper into him, his body healing around it as it wormed its way upwards. Once it reached his brain, it would release its stored polymers, the substance reacting with his brain matter and causing it to harden, killing even him.

Rikard choked as he collapsed to his knees, releasing the Mech as it finished killing the last of the troopers and turned its attention on the Inquisitor.

The Inquisitor had held back, gauging its moment to strike, the rod weapon spinning in his hands as he considered before firing, taking a great chunk out of the Mech's armour plating.

The Mech drew back, large hand going to the exposed delicate circuitry protectively as his head snapped up, the receptor cycling as he stared at the Inquisitor. The bladed tail swept back and struck as the Inquisitor lined up a second shot, driving the Inquisitor back into the bulkhead, the tail barb separating from the tail as it released its coiled springs, the net springing around the Inquisitor as it was held firmly against the wall, pinned neatly.

Rikard gasped, feeling the projectile boring up towards his throat, closing his eyes to concentrate and causing his own body to tighten around the weapon, forcing it to adapt, to try to bore around the obstruction; his fingers grasped it as it rose to just under his skin. He wrenched the projectile free and tossed it across the deck, coughing up blood as he gasped for air.

He looked up at the Mech advancing across the deck towards him; on all fours, it looked like some kind of mechanical beast intent on his death. Rikard knew when it was time to leave; his hand snaked out for where he had dropped the Peligian diary.

It closed on thin air.

He turned his head to see Galadriel holding the book tight against her chest, giving him a defiant look, daring him to come and get it.

Rikard's eyes flashed, as he depressed the Propylon activator and vanished in a burst of light.

* * *

"That was definitely not part of my plan!" Masconi stated as she came out onto the bridge, walking past the trapped Inquisitor thrashing about in its coiled net. She stared at the assault Mech that was compressing, his long limbs folding in upon themselves as he threw the adaptive camouflage cloak back about his form.

Galadriel came around the conn console, still clutching the Peligian diary close against her body. "I got the book..." she said, staring in wonderment at the metallic war machine.

"We need to get out of here," Masconi stated, taking the conn chair and scanning over the boards, noting that two of the Excalibur's three jump drives held a full charge: that would get them clear of the Amsus forces.

The ship shook and lurched, the engineering console beginning to reel off alarms as it registered the trio of jump drives exploding, the Amsus technical team completing its mission and crippling the great warship before she could escape.

Kyr grabbed the back of her chair and held on tight as Masconi stared at the helpless boards. "We have company," he yelled above the din of klaxons.

The Amsus fleet, aware now of the Excalibur's sudden freedom, repositioned itself to take up firing solutions; more alarm bells joined the first set as the ship's RADAR warning receiver registered that the Amsus cruisers and Raptors were standing by with missile locks across the board.

"We're dead..." Masconi said, standing up.

* * *

"Hold your fire!" Rikard ordered, picking himself up from the floor of the Propylon chamber, his order booming around the cavernous room, causing the human technicians and Amsus fleet officers to look at him.

"What's the matter, Enarbrem?" Sephradon called down from where she was standing upon a raised platform, the hunched form of the Polian Inquisitor looming behind her, a silent guardian resting upon his crystalline staff weapon.

Rikard looked up at her, his eyes openly angry. "Do not fire on that ship!" he commanded, levelling a finger at her, "Or I shall take great pleasure in returning you to your crystal cell!"

Sephradon bristled as she straightened her delicate shoulders. "Your will, Chancellor, is done." She looked across the chamber and waved at the Fleet Marshal to issue the command to the fleets, the Amsus officer reaching to touch his radio, calling for the ships to hold their fire.

Satisfied that his will was being carried out, Rikard stood sneering as he stared past her towards the Polian Inquisitor, feeling its unnatural presence in his carefully structured order. Rikard raised an eyebrow and pointed at Pachyeus-Ra. "What is that?" he demanded coldly.

"I took a liberty," Sephradon replied, lifting the hem of her sleek silver dress, stepping down the metal grill steps and out onto the floor of the chamber. She circled around the monitoring equipment and banks of computers to meet him as he crossed the short bridge that connected the ring of stones to the rest of the chamber.

She sniffed derisively at the bullet holes in his shirt and the fresh blood staining the front. "It looks like you lost, master."

"I don't lose," Rikard responded absently, staring again at Ra. The Polian-Inquisitor hybrid remaining motionless under his inspection. It was different from the other Inquisitor constructs, lacking the scent receptors that bound the others to him. The alien presence would complicate matters, but like all Polians, it could be easily dispatched should the need arise.

He looked back at Sephradon; an Inquisitor that was hers to control... he would let her have her toy for now.

"Reset the device," he motioned to the Propylons, "I wish to travel again..."

"You have not returned to oversee the invasion, Master?" Sephradon asked almost incredulously, and Rikard's eyes flicked back to her irritably.

"There are some things in this universe far more important than a group of rebels." He stated gesturing for a fleet officer, dispatching him to fetch a few things the Chancellor required, "I promised you your revenge, and I will guarantee it. The invasion is yours... Highlord Taine is no longer a threat."

"He is dead?" Sephradon asked hopefully.

"He is," Rikard stated with a firm finality in his tone, "I saw to it personally."

She smiled; with Taine gone, there was no one capable of stopping the invasion, no one with the imagination to pose any kind of challenge, at least. "Why did you resurrect Edward?" she asked as Rikard accepted the flat black case the fleet officer presented to him reverently.

Her question caught Rikard off guard, and he paused, his hands tightening around the edges of the case, "What do you know of the Prince?"

"I was on Karin..." Sephradon stated, unaware of the danger she was in.

Rikard turned on her, his will slamming her across the chamber. "What?!" he screamed in fury.

Ra took a menacing step forward, lifting his staff weapon to defend his mistress, but he held his attack at a motion from Sephradon as she picked herself up off of the chamber floor, wiping away the blood from a cut on her lip that was already healing. Ra wasn't a match for Rikard, but maybe if they both...

"The invasion was mine," She spat out, "revenge was promised to me and I destroyed the miserable Imperial Senate, and I sought to capture their Prince..." She rose, her own fury boiling at her treatment.

Rikard raised a finger, calm set in place as he walked around her slowly. "Prince Edward is not for you," he said with a simple calm, as a father addressing a small girl, "I will grant you your revenge, I will even give you the means to accomplish it, but," his voice pitched menacingly, "interfere in my plans again and I will take great pleasure in ending your existence."

She seethed, but bowed her head, the rustle of her silks the only sound in the silent chamber. "As the Master demands."

"The device is reset," the technician stated, looking up from the computer that regulated the Propylon's operation, "Co-ordinates?"

Rikard walked away from the kneeling woman, crossing to the computer and relieving the technician as he studied the interface. They were simple and concise, and he easily tapped in his destination. He spoke his instructions to her slowly, "The Excalibur is to be left alone until I return; send no troops aboard her, you may only fire to disable her if she makes any attempt to leave." He looked up, "Am I clear?"

"Of course, master." Sephradon replied petulantly, "No troops."

"All will become clear soon," he stated, setting the computer to automatically erase the co-ordinates he had entered as soon as he had departed. He recovered the black case as he walked back out to the centre of the ancient Peligian transportation device.

He nodded to her a final time. "You have my word."

As he vanished, Sephradon looked up at Ra, feeling his question.

"No," she said quietly, "Not yet, not until I know what is so important that he would depart on the eve of such an important battle."

* * *

"Why haven't they fired?" Kyr asked in awe, walking down to look up at the Amsus Armada surrounding them.

Masconi shook her head uneasily. "I don't know..."

"I do," Galadriel said, holding up the Peligian diary.

Masconi looked at the diary and back at the fleet. "We need to get the crew out of the holding areas. They're going to come for that book, and we need to be ready for them..."