Sacred Planet: Book One of the Dominion Series (31 page)

Davin snatched Sierra by the arm and pulled her out of the chewed-up stand. The Abramists were too busy dealing with the security drones to notice them. This was their chance.

One of the bots whirred toward Davin and Sierra as they fled, clacking stunner rounds every few seconds. A round cracked against the tile and ricocheted into his calf. Davin yelped, his leg electrified and deadened, then fired at the drone until a lucky shot landed, exploding the contraption in midair.

Sierra took Davin’s arm and helped him hobble. He winced with each step. Another security drone got past the Abramists and zoomed toward them. Sierra seized Davin’s handgun and fired upward. She flinched, and her arm kicked back with every shot. The gun clicked empty. Without a beat, Sierra shoved Davin to the floor and stood over him with hands shielding her face. The drone clacked off a round, and Sierra let out a shriek before she collapsed, shuddering like she was having a seizure.

The drone hovered over Davin, its black sensor eye trained on him. He took in a sharp breath, frozen in place, helpless.

A gunshot rang from behind him. The drone recoiled from the hit and spun out of control, falling into the color-shifting fountain. Jabron ran up to them, blood running from one corner of his mouth.

“The leader?” Davin asked.

“Got away,” Jabron replied in a gruff voice. He stooped and picked up Sierra’s unconscious body in his burly arms. “Get your ass up. Let’s go.”

Davin grabbed his handgun and thrust himself to his feet with a grunt, following Jabron.

Sagittarius Arm, on the planet Upraad . . .

Guarin used the hand of his bad arm to hold his shirt out like a basket while he plucked purple berries with the other. Spiky-leafed vines climbed up the plastic trellis toward the slanted glass roof of the greenhouse. Pale orange sunlight streamed in through the metal framework.

Just outside the side windows the strong river surged, reminding him constantly of that painful underwater struggle to be free of his armor. And also of Guerlain’s lifeless form, a solitary moment in time that passed by so quickly yet clung to him like a cancer. He paused from berry picking, teeth grinding. Stinging pain flared in his shoulder as a colossal weight crushed him on the inside. Days ago, and yet like only seconds.

The familiar cracking, crumbling feeling in his chest returned, but Guarin banished it. He hardened himself and returned to picking. He had wiled away enough hours weeping for Guerlain. She deserved every second of grief and a thousand times more, but Guarin couldn’t give it now. The grief would cripple him if he let it take a foothold. For now, Guarin needed to live, to heal, to think. He would have his revenge against the Upraadi bitch who had killed his mate, and against the Eaglespawn who aided her. No matter how long it took, no matter what he had to do, he would restore justice to the name of Guerlain of Swan.

Guarin returned to the shaded corner where he slumped against the glass and ate. Bitter juice ran across his tongue with each bite. The berries weren’t ripe yet, but close enough for nourishment.

A deep whir vibrated the air from above, starting light and faint and building up. Probably another commoner shuttle—one of the handful that had survived the fight against Radovan. But something was different about this one. Guarin paused, listened. It gave off a heavy growl, even and pure in its power, not like the groaning sputter of commoner engines. Guarin craned his neck and searched the caramel sky. A foreign ship flew somewhere in that cloudy expanse—descending, by the sound of it.

Finally, it emerged, a rough gray, dual-winged spaceplane. Four gargantuan, tilt-adjusted turbine engines aimed diagonally, bringing the unmarked vessel smoothly downward. Guarin pushed himself up, letting the berries fall from his shirt, eyes affixed to the newcomer. This was no Sagittarian-built ship. Sagittarian lords marked every vessel, and no shipyard, to Guarin’s knowledge, even built spaceplanes like this. It had to be Carinian. Not Space Force—they marked their vessels, too. But Carinian, undoubtedly.

The thick-fuselaged plane slowed its descent as it disappeared over a bend in the cliff on Guarin’s side of the river. In that direction lay the palace. It must have been landing at the palace’s main platform.

Guarin grabbed his breather mask and ran through the vine-clad trellises toward the airlock.

* * *

Guarin’s shoulders and forearms ached after a half hour of climbing up the cliff face. It would’ve only taken him a few minutes if not for his damn wound, flickering bursts of pain when he tried to use that arm. He had to climb with one arm outstretched and the other curled at his side, grasping the rock as minimally as possible. His entire chest and arm throbbed by the time he reached the height of the platform, but the scene provided enough distraction to ignore the pain.

The vessel loomed on the landing platform, a great, gray mass—more a ship than a plane. Its sturdy, outstretched wings hung over the edge of the sizable platform, casting fearsome shadows across the cliff. Its beastly engines, now sitting vertically, approached the end of their cool down. The people walking off the back ramp looked like young children under the plane’s mass, save their nanoflex jackets and assault rifles. Clear, plastic masks clung to their faces.

Armed commoners strode out from the carved entrance to the palace to meet the newcomers. Meaty men in mechanical exos and black breathers, carrying crude firearms, flanked a wiry fellow holding a long-barreled handgun and walking with a limp.
Abelard
. A girl accompanied him, carrying her own long-barreled gun in both hands. Guarin only saw her from the back, but she struck him as vaguely familiar.

They were too far off to hear. Guarin needed to get closer.

* * *

The two armed companies left a ten-meter gap between each other. One of the newcomers stepped forward, weaponless and shorter than the others, bearing a perpetual half-grin. He glanced around the river valley and spread his hands with gleeful self-confidence.

“Congratulations!” he announced. His accent was unmistakable, even through the plastic breather mask. “News of your victory has reached every corner of the galaxy.”

“Or at least whatever corner of Carina you come from,” Abelard replied.

The Carinian laughed rambunctiously. “I’m glad we got that out of the way. I’ve never been much of a bullshitter.”

Abelard spun the cylinder of his revolver, unamused. “Talk fast, Carinian. Who are you? What do you want with us?”

“You can call me Victor,” the Carinian said. “It’s my real name. No other personal information is necessary. I’m here to make you an offer.”

The lithe woman stepped closer to Abelard. Her face betrayed nobility, but she wore commoner garments and carried herself as one of them.

“Start with what you want from us,” she demanded.

Familiar voice.

Victor held out a hand. “Whoa there, Miss. I don’t know who you are, but I came here to deal with Abelard.”

“I’m the only surviving heir of Radovan the Gracious,” she uttered with confidence. “By Sagittarian law, I rule this planet.”

Something cracked in Guarin’s soul. The pieces came together like a blazer in its sheath. The girl—
Seraphina
. Radovan’s heiress. Yes, it was her. He only remembered a face before, but now he recognized her voice, too. It was the frontier bitch who killed Guerlain. Hot, stinging tears welled in Guarin’s eyes, but not of sadness. Of
rage
. Burning magma filled his heart, made him tremble at the thought of vengeance. So close.
So
close.

Patience
.

“It’s my understanding that your kind don’t rule this system anymore,” Victor said.

“That’s right,” Abelard replied. “No man is above another on Upraad anymore. But she’s with me, and I bear the burden of leading the free people of Upraad.”

Victor’s grin widened. “Burden, eh?” He laughed. “Alright, then. I guess any way you slice it, I’m talking to the right person.”

“I don’t mean to be unwelcoming,
Victor
,” Abelard said, “but this is a fragile time for Upraad, and I can see you haven’t come to offer an olive branch, so skip to the real reason why you’re here.”

“Actually, I
have
come to offer an olive branch, of sorts.”

“Explain.”

“I’m well aware this is a fragile time for your people, and we’ve come to let you know that you’re not without friends—or at least, not without benefactors.”

“Why would Carina want to be our benefactor?”

Victor bristled. “Not Carina. We aren’t from the Carinian government. We may be Carinians ourselves, but we were sent by . . . someone else. Someone who wants the best for Upraad’s new, uh, administration.”

“You’re speaking without saying anything,” Abelard said. His annoyance showed.

“Yeah, I don’t like being coy either,” Victor said. “I’m no good at it. But I can’t show
all
my cards. You understand.”

“You were saying about an olive branch,” Abelard reminded him.

“Right. That’s the important part. Doesn’t matter who we are. All that matters is what we’ve come to offer you.”

“Which is?” Seraphina asked.

Victor turned around in a circle, taking in his surroundings. Smoke still rose from the battle two days earlier. Dozens of wrecked vessels remained in the place of their demise. Corpses still floated face-down at the river’s edge. Immeasurable destruction hadn’t even been touched. Victor stretched out his arms.

“You’ve won your freedom, but it was a pyrrhic victory. Radovan’s gone, but so is his army. So are his ships. So are most of his weapons. Now all you’ve got are those pathetic Roman candles.”

The commoners weren’t amused.

“And you don’t think the Sagittarians are just gonna leave you alone, do you? Hell no. Zantorian wants Lagoon. He’s had his eye on it for a long time. Yeah, that’s right. Foreigner knows a thing or two. Well, guess what? Now that Radovan’s out of the way, you just handed Lagoon to Zantorian on a silver platter.”

Some of the commoners stirred, but Abelard didn’t object.

“That’s where our ‘benefactors’ come in, I’m guessing?”

Victor pointed at him with a smile. “Bingo.” He let out a loud, sharp whistle. “Maxwell, bring out the team.”

Two columns of armed, metallic androids streamed from the back ramp of the spaceplane. They were identical, save for numerical markings on their necks and name badges attached to their chestplates. The leader had “XV1018” on his neck and “Maxwell” on his chest. The team, probably forty in all, marched through the Carinians, right up to Abelard.

“Bots?” Seraphina asked.

“Not robots,” Victor corrected. “
Humans
. We call them ‘transapiens.’ The brain of a human in the body of a machine. They have the intuition and problem-solving abilities of a soldier but the mind-blowing power and speed of a machine. Best damn warriors in the history of mankind. We brought five teams of them, two hundred guns in all.”

“Why would—” Abelard started.

“Nah, nah, I’m not done yet. Five transapien teams plus enough small arms to outfit your entire army. And these are modern weapons, my friend. State-of-the-art stuff. None of this scrap metal you’re carryin’ around.”

“But why—”

“Not finished yet. Five transapien teams, small arms for your troops, we also brought autodrones. Eighty of ‘em. Smart little buggers. You’ll never see a single case of friendly fire.”

“Victor, will you please just tell me—”

“
And
, last but not least, a Skyshield aerial defense array. Carinian designed, Carinian built. You better be grateful for those. They’re
not
cheap.”

“
Victor!
” Abelard exclaimed. “Why are you—or whoever supports you—why are you doing this? You must want something in return.”

The Carinian’s characteristic grin returned. “You’re right. We do want something. And it’s very simple. Seems like a bad deal for us, actually.”

“What is it?” Abelard asked. “Spit it out.”

“We want exactly what you want. For Upraad to remain free and independent.”

“What’s the catch?”

“Zantorian or one of his vassals may promise you immunity if you pledge them your loyalty.” Victor stepped closer, stopping an arm’s length from the commoner leader. “The deal is this: We arm you, protect you, guarantee your neutrality, and in return, you fight any Sagittarians who come to Upraad, for any reason.”

There was a long pause. Then Victor extended an open hand. “Do we have a deal?”

Orion Arm, near the Pelican Nebula . . .

Davin crossed his arms close to his chest as Strange pushed into the
Fossa’s
already cramped med bay. Jai pinned himself between the scanner tube and the wall, and Strange hovered over Sierra’s unconscious form, strapped against the exam bench with a steady-flow IV in her arm. Though Sierra’s body lay right in front of him, Davin felt like she was somewhere far, far away. Lightyears away.

“Still out,” Strange said. “Wow.”

“Stunner shot,” Jai said. He pressed his fingers together and jabbed himself in the chest. “Right to the heart.”

“And she took it for me,” Davin said in the midst of an unbreakable stare. A strange inner quiet, an awkwardness in his own skin, had gripped him ever since Agora. Since Sierra had stood over him and taken that stunner shot like a voluntary human shield.

Strange maneuvered herself above Sierra’s blank face. “So, is this like . . . a coma?”

Jai nodded and rubbed his worn eyes. He hadn’t slept since they left Agora. Neither had Davin. “Stunner probably stop her heart. Not sure how long.”

“However long it was,” Davin said, “it was enough to starve her brain. There’s some swelling. We really have nothing to help her.” He broke his gaze to look at Strange. “Where are we?”

“Nowhere special,” Strange replied. “A couple more nexus points to Deneb. You can probably see it out the window.”

Davin and Jai turned to look out the small window. At first glance, the most obvious objects were the familiar handful of rings scattered around the nexus point—spacegates, aimed out at other spacegates in nexus points thirty lightyears’ distant. Every nexus point looked the same from the window of a ship passing through the spherical space from one gate to another. The gates reflected a bluish white light, sometimes showing up only as crescents. Davin and Jai leaned to see the source of light, only to be blinded by a brilliant white star.