Damnation

  Forgotten Vengeance, Book Three

  M.R. Forbes

  Published by Quirky Algorithms

  Seattle, Washington

  This novel is a work of fiction and a product of the author’s imagination.

  Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by M.R. Forbes

  All rights reserved.

  Cover illustration by Geronimo Ribaya

  geronimoribaya.com

  1

  Aeron

  General Aeron Haeri stood in the underground command center beneath Ghost’s Tavern in Dome six of Praeton, the largest city on Proxima. He stared at the sensor data continually streaming in from Proxima B’s outer defensive perimeter.

  The Relyeh warship was still relatively distant from the strategically placed satellites, which meant that the data he was receiving was nearly ten hours old. It wasn’t a long time with regard to the vast expanse of space, but plenty long enough for the enemy to close on the planet before anyone knew they were there—if that was what they wanted.

  But that didn’t appear to be their strategy.

  He had watched with an uncommonly racing heart as the warship started to deploy hundreds of smaller spacecraft. His initial thought was that they would accelerate to Proxima and begin blasting the domes of the planet from orbit. Or they might go for the outer asteroid mines. Worst of all, if they knew what the Organization had been busy with for the last two centuries, they were here to put a stop to it before contingencies to fight them could be executed.

  The last thought was the hardest to take. For so many years, they had all been so careful to protect the Organization and its operatives. No single person knew everything about the Organization. No single entity could divulge all of its secrets—even by accident. He was the highest-ranking member—the dragon’s head as some of the others liked to call him—and he didn’t even know what the key he had accepted from the prior head unlocked.

  For the first few minutes, he wasn’t sure he would have a chance to find out. The entire CIC was trapped in shock, every eye in the room staring at the situational map projected at the front of the room, the computers taking digital sensor data and stitching it into a visual representation. Nobody moved. Nobody made a sound. The small ships continued to pour from the warship, one after another after another, seemingly as plentiful as the stars around them.

  Then they vanished.

  Not all at once. They began to disappear in waves, reaching a specific point beyond the perimeter and then blinked out of existence as though each ship flew through a tear in the universe.

  Aeron didn’t think that was too far from the truth. While the Relyeh didn’t seem to have the same level of intergalactic transportation technology as the Axon, it wasn’t a stretch to think they had developed or stolen space-fold tech even the much younger human race possessed.

  Except the vanishings didn’t have the same signature as folding space. It was too uniform. Too perfect. The way the lines of spacecraft reached a point in the universe and disappeared reminded him of the Organizations work with Axon portals—quantum tunnels through space and time similar to folding space, but not quite the same.

  The problem for Aeron was that the Relyeh weren’t supposed to possess that level of Axon tech. They didn’t know how to build portals for instant transfer across the stars. It was the Axon’s crowning achievement, their greatest discovery, and they guarded it as tightly as they could.

  If the Hunger had managed to uncover that secret, it would make humanity’s already weak position all the more unstable. If they could move from planet to planet or galaxy to galaxy with the snap of their fingers, they could deliver millions of ships to Proxima within seconds if that was their desire.

  They could destroy the planet on a whim, in less time than it took him to formulate their planetary defense.

  Even if the Hunger hadn’t developed their own portals, Aeron already knew they were using Axon technology to cross from somewhere to Proxima. The Judicus Department at a minimum was compromised by the worm-like khoron, so far working to undermine the planet with more subtlety than all-out war. Khoron that had to have recently arrived from somewhere, and whose motives he still wasn’t confident about knowing. They had arranged the assassination of Chair LaMont, the highest elected official on the planet and blamed it on him. Then they had killed his wife and likely his children while trying to get the data on the chip he carried. It was clear they were after the Organization, at least for the moment.

  What wasn’t clear was why.

  What also wasn’t clear was where those hundreds of smaller ships were going. At first, Aeron thought perhaps they were narrowing the distance between the warship and Proxima. Taking a shortcut, as it were. But at these ranges, the ships would have re-emerged within seconds, appearing outside the planet’s atmosphere ready to attack.

  They hadn’t.

  And why would they? If they wanted him, if they wanted the data chip he carried, if they had other designs on the planet, it wouldn’t make sense to bombard it from space. And if the Relyeh were ready to reveal themselves to the greater civilian population, their warship wouldn’t have slowed beyond the reach of their standard sensors, remaining hidden from the main body of humankind.

  Aeron considered the meaning behind the actions. It was evident to him the enemy knew how the population of Proxima had been lied to. They had done what they could to keep him from going in front of the Council to warn them of what was coming to begin unraveling the truth. They wanted to take the planet silently, likely without violence if they could. Why?

  He could think of one reason, at least. The outside environment of the planet wasn’t comfortable for humankind and might not be all that great for Relyeh either. Destroying the domes would hurt their efforts more than help them, and a direct assault would make the risk of damage high. Since they didn’t need to go to such lengths, there was little benefit to it.

  Aeron knew the Hunger’s requirements for sustenance. Food in the form of organic matter. Meat. But also in the form of chemicals. Pheromones. Fear. The Organization’s scientists agreed that the need was present to drive them to constant war and expansion, much like the pleasure of sex was present to encourage human beings to procreate. But there was a division among them about whether the original Relyeh had evolved with the need, or if it had been implanted at some point to force the issue. Was it a primal instinct or a programmed command?

  “Where are they going?”

  Aeron’s Chief Analyst, Briar, was the first to voice the question on everyone’s mind. Her voice permeated the silent room, seeming to drag the scientists and soldiers present out of their shock and back to reality. The simple question set off a cascade of murmurs as the other people in the room started trying to work out the answer.

  But Aeron already knew the answer. He had already run through the possibilities. There was only one logical destination for the fleet of smaller craft.

  Earth.

  2

  Aeron

  “Earth,” Aeron said, supplying the answer to Briar’s question. They didn’t hear him the first time. They were still too rattled to become silent when he spoke. “Briar.”

  She turned to face him, eyes wide, face flushed. “Sir?”

  “Earth,” he repeated calmly. “The ships are going to Earth. We assumed based on the trajectory that the warship itself was headed there, but we were wrong. This isn’t an attack on our home planet. It’s an attack on all of humankind.”

  “Sir?” she said again, more softly this time. “Are you certain?”

  “As certain as I can be. If they were jumping closer to Proxima, they would be here by now.”

  “What if they’re going after the installations?”

  “Then there would be no reason for them to fold. The distance from the warship’s position is too short.”

  “Should we send them a message? Tell them to prepare countermeasures?”

  Aeron shook his head forcefully. “No. Under no circumstances should there be any outward sign of resistance at this stage. We need to be smart about this. We have one opportunity to play that card, and we don’t want to waste it too soon.”

  “So, what do we do, sir? Sit here and wait for that thing to come within firing range?”

  Aeron smiled. “I’m pretty sure it could hit us from there if that were the goal. Yes, we’ll sit and wait. But send a message to the relevant parties. Code Nineteen.”

  Briar’s face gained another level of tension. “Code Nineteen?”

  “And tell them to do it quietly.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Briar wandered away from him, crossing the machine-filled room to the comms equipment in the corner, which included a standard civilian terminal. Aeron eyed Briar as she placed a communication through the terminal. He couldn’t hear what she said or see what she entered into the unit, but he had the procedure memorized just like she did. The Organization’s system was designed to use standard communications equipment in an encoded fashion. Only the people who needed to know had any idea what the different codes meant, and from an outsider’s perspective—like that of a Judicus—they were received as random errors.

  The whole exercise took less than a minute, during which the number of smaller ships released by the Relyeh warship finally tapered off. Aeron observed the last group of ships reach the vanishing point and disappear, headed for Earth. If they were indeed using Axon tech, the craft would arrive at the blue marble seconds later, but only
if they had a receiver positioned close to the planet at the other end. Otherwise, it might be hours before the ships arrived. There was no way for him to know.

  Godspeed to you and yours, Sheriff Duke.

  He had sent Sergeant Isaac Pine and Special Officer Rico to Earth with the most trusted people he had in the Organization. Assuming the new algorithms worked as well as the engineers promised, they would have arrived hours ago. Sheriff Duke would know something was coming, and he would at a minimum have a chance to get some of his people to safety.

  But then what? Hayden was an impressive character. A natural leader and tough as nails. But what could he do against an armada of starships? What could anyone on Earth do? Publicly, Proxima derided Earth as an unwelcoming enemy of the newer settlement. Behind closed doors, it was considered an untamed wilderness filled with savages, with no value to any advanced civilization. Proxima could have done so much more to help, but it was help that was never going to come.

  Aeron didn’t want to accept it, but he didn’t have much choice. Even the great Sheriff Duke couldn’t do a damned thing about what was coming for Earth.

  Nobody could.

  But at least he had tried. At this point, he had to focus on this planet. These people. Millions of humans under threat and none of them knew it.

  “Sir,” Sergeant Fox said, standing at attention in front of him. “We’ve got trouble.”

  “Explain,” Aeron replied.

  Fox pulled a small, flat tablet from his pocket and held it out to Aeron. It was a video feed showing both members of the Judicus Department and Military Police moving into C-District of Dome Six.

  The same location as Ghost’s Tavern.

  “They found us already?” Aeron said. “That’s impossible. Unless…”

  The door to the CIC exploded inward with a loud crack and a blast of debris, sending everyone in the room to the floor. Sergeant Fox had his arms around Aeron almost instantly, trying to shield him from the fallout of the sudden attack by dragging him to the ground.

  The clanking sound of metal canisters followed the explosion, the small, round devices rolling across the floor and emitting gas. Aeron took a few quick breaths and sucked in some air, pushing away from Fox and reaching for his ion blaster.

  The third step of the attack was a squad of armored MPs moving into the room, obscured by the gas that was already knocking out the other inhabitants. They led with their rifles up and ready, no doubt armed with stunners. They wanted Aeron alive.

  “Sir?” Fox whispered, his nature as a clone leaving him unaffected by the gas.

  Aeron used hand gestures, sending Fox to the right side of the room, and ordering him to fire at will. He saw the moment of hesitation in the Centurion’s eyes. These were their people just doing their jobs. They didn’t deserve to die.

  But neither had his wife and boys. They were casualties of war, just like the MPs would need to become if he was going to get out of the room with his freedom. He couldn’t afford to let the data chip or the key fall into Relyeh hands. Even if he didn’t know the meaning of everything he carried, he knew it was the most vital information the Organization possessed.

  It was his job and his lifelong mission to protect it.

  He stayed low, still holding his breath as he crossed behind one of the banks of computers, pressed against it and waiting for Fox to get into position. The MPs were moving in quickly, spreading around the room and checking the people on the ground to ensure they were unconscious. Aeron glanced to his left. Briar had gone down nearby, and a Centurion dropped beside her to check her.

  Aeron moved in behind him, stabbing him in the back with the Axon microspear, wrapping his other arm around him to keep him from collapsing too hard. He pulled the Marine back behind the terminal, still waiting for Fox to start shooting.

  He did a moment later, the rounds echoing in the enclosed space. Aeron stood and trained his blaster on Briar. He winced as he pulled the trigger. He couldn’t afford to let them stick a khoron in her. He couldn’t risk them learning everything she knew.

  Then he ran into the smoke toward the door, reacting to the obstacles as he encountered them. He shot a Centurion in the head, the blaster breaching the helmet and inflicting fatal damage to the man’s brain. Aeron ducked low again as another Centurion came into view and fired a stunner at him. He ducked beneath it and shot the Centurion twice in the chest. He grabbed the dead man, holding his corpse up in front of him, letting stunners hit the Centurion’s armor before dropping the body aside and shooting another. Each kill caused his heart to clench, but he had to stay detached and in control. He didn’t have enough air to make it out otherwise.

  The MPs deeper in the room realized what was happening and turned, shooting wildly at him. Aeron felt the stunners hit him in the back of his clothes, unable to pierce the specially designed bullet and stun proof jacket and pants.

  More reports echoed behind him in the smoke-filled room. Most hit the door casing around him or the wall beside him. And then he made it through the door. Once outside he was finally able to take a deep breath of gas-free air.

  And then he froze.

  The secondary door was hanging open, and another squad of MPs was making its way in from the alley.

  “Upstairs,” Fox said, coming up behind him and urging him to take the less secure route.

  Aeron didn’t hesitate. He ran down the dim hallway to a small steel door, pushing it open and entering the confines of a tight stairwell. He climbed it to another door at the top, pushing through into a cutout just large enough for him to stand in. It had an access pad on it, and he quickly tapped in the code.

  The door slid aside, and he emerged into a storage closet. Fox followed him through, and the door automatically closed behind him. A shelving unit of cleaning materials slid open in front of them, leading into the kitchen. They walked casually through the narrow aisles between counters, slipping past the cooks waiting for orders. Ghost’s was quiet at this time of day.

  Aeron cracked open the door leading from the kitchen to the main floor and froze. The tavern, as expected, was relatively empty. Half a dozen people sat at tables near the front door, but it was the three Judici talking to Jake, the bartender that drew his attention.

  The muscular, mohawked barkeep was shaking his head and shrugging, denying every suggestion the Judici made regarding the nature of the tavern’s business. Jake’s eyes flicked toward Aeron, spotting him without reacting, and he raised his voice and became more animated in the denials, offering a better distraction for Aeron and Fox to make their escape undetected.

  Aeron opened the door slowly, slipping out to the side and staying along the wall, angling for the front door. Nothing would get any easier once he made it outside, but at least he and Fox would have more space to disappear and regroup. He was grateful Briar had managed to get the Code Nineteen off before Law Enforcement had arrived.

  They had come so fast. Too fast. Someone in that room had summoned them. Someone down there had betrayed the Organization. Not Briar. He was sure of that. One of the scientists? He had vetted them all personally. They had passed his evaluations with flying colors. He couldn’t believe any of them had turned.

  But someone had.

  He was halfway around the outside perimeter of the room when one of the Judici began to turn away from Jake. Aeron watched the bartender reach behind the bar and pull a pistol out. He shot one of the Judici point-blank, and then was thrown back by return fire, his bloody body crashing into the rows of alcohol behind the bar.

  Aeron broke for the door, blasting one of the Judici before they could redirect their fire. One of the patrons took the other one, all six of them rising to their feet in response to the sudden attack.

  They all pulled pistols from hidden places on their bodies, hurrying to intercept Aeron and Fox at the front door, forming up around them like the former Centurions they were.

  “General,” one of them said. “How can we help?”

  “We need a diversion,” Aeron said.