“You are dismissed, commander. Return to your ship.” Sylax had barked the words quickly, disturbed at the revelation.
“Yes, governor.” Orson stood up and hurried out of the chamber as it erupted into a roar of argument.
“Fuckers used me,” Orson spluttered as he stormed onto the bridge of the Gallant. Nguyen and Johnson stared at him, half surprised to see him back aboard the ship at all. “That asshole Perto knew about that human kid, somehow. They’re really wound up about this knower thing.”
“So, we aren’t fired, sir?” Nguyen said, her pitch rising as she asked it.
“Doesn’t seem so, corporal. Or at least, no-one has said so yet. The governor had bigger concerns.” Orson was used to reporting to generals, not civilians, but the Council organised its space in a very particular manner. The nature of controlling vast swaths of territory meant that it largely had to be self-sufficient. Council space was split into innumerable provinces, each with its own governor. They were elected into that position by the province’s council, whilst the councillors themselves were drawn from the ranks of the clergy. It reminded Orson of cardinals electing a Pope, if there were thousands of Popes each with their own domain.
The Governors also acted as representatives for their province in the same council from which the nation drew its name. From their number they elected an Emperor, a mostly ceremonial position that simply broke ties should there be one.
Orson had been given a book on the history of the Council but had barely dented it. The percentage complete counter in the corner of his tablet had increased at a depressingly slow rate. From what he could glean, the Council was initially formed as an alliance of races with similar religions and had simply replicated its voting process as the empire grew. The result was a confusing mess of political parties and infighting, nested layers of politicians fighting for prominence. Now it seemed one had decided to use Orson for his own ends.
“So, what now sir?” Johnson asked.
“I don’t like being used, Trooper. I say we do some digging.”
Chapter Sixteen
Michael felt like he was being shaken like a bad cocktail as the atmosphere hit the Seeker. He could feel the gel of the chair encasing him, doing its best to absorb the vibrations. The shaking had come on suddenly as the artificial gravity had shut off, the proximity of the planet interfering with the alien technology. Something rattled unsettlingly behind his ear.
Aileena held tightly to the controls, the only member of the crew who wasn’t encased in the shock-absorbing gel, her arms still free. She was straining, a low growl sneaking from between her lips as she fought against the massive forces threatening to shake the ship apart. From her control panel, lights flashed. An alarm had begun to blare but was quickly drowned out by the rattling of the ship.
“Thirty-five seconds until engine failure,” Clive said. His voice came screaming from the speakers, shouting over the din in the control room. “I think.”
“You think?” Aileena shouted back, her face turning a darker shade of green as she fought against the controls. “You know I can see the fuel gauge, right? I know how long we have left. Keep your mouth shut unless you have something useful to say!”
“I was just trying to help…”
“Well help better! Shut down non-essential power, squeeze out what time you can.” Aileena turned her head, shouting behind herself. “Hold on everyone. Rhythm help me this will be close.”
The light from the nearby star shone down on the snow and ice, reflecting back upwards causing the sheet of white to glow slightly. The tundra rolled onwards over the horizon, an eternal all-encompassing landscape, a thin wind whipping up a lazy mist of snow that crept across the countryside. The fields of ice were broken up by a range of rocky mountains. Granite daggers bursting forth from beneath the ice like sharks breaching the surface.
Nestled in those mountains, carved into the side, was a tower. The structure jutted out at an angle, leaning away from the mountainside, stretching out over a chasm. Figures scrambled over the surface of the tower, emerging from windows that studded the tower like pimples.
A cluster of the figures stopped moving, hanging onto the tower by their fingertips. They were staring upwards, something catching their eye. It started as a tiny spec, a single dot of black against the otherwise clear sky. The object grew slowly, becoming a raging fireball screaming downwards towards them. It shrieked past the tower, the underside of the object scraping along a section of the mountain, sending rocks tumbling.
The massed eyes watched as the fireball came in low across the snow, the heat carving a long path as it struggled to remain aloft. Finally, it dipped into the slurry beneath it, skidding across the ground until it came to a stop on an ice flow several miles away, only visible because of the tower’s high vantage point. The object rested there for a moment, steam rising in waves, and then vanished, as the ice gave way beneath it.
Michael was shaking again. It was different this time though, no gel absorbed it, no shriek of metal accompanied it. Michael opened his eyes to find Brekt crouched over him, his arms on Michael’s shoulders. It was cold, Brekt’s breath escaping in wispy clouds of mist.
“Good to see you made it,” Brekt said with a smile. There was a trickle of blood on his chin, running from a small cut in his cheek. “Bit of a rough time that one.”
“Any landing you can walk away from is a good one,” Aileena said, her voice echoing from behind a pile of thick ice chunks.
Michael sat up, scanning his surroundings. They were in a cave of some kind, the light pouring in from a hole on the ceiling. Ice and snow drifted down from the edge, bouncing off the Seeker loudly as it did. The ship was nose-first in the ground, the rear landing gear had deployed, but the front had failed, raising the rear of the ship into the air like a drunk falling asleep in the street.
“What happened?” Michael said, “I remember the shaking and all that fire lapping over the windows. It’s all a bit of a blur after that.”
“We came in hard, Aileena had to save what power we had to slow our descent as much as possible. Skidded us across the ground like a rock on a pond. Good news is the ground is mostly snow, so it wasn’t as bad as it could be.”
“What’s the bad news?”
“Sorry, I don’t follow.”
“The bad news,” Michael said. “Whenever someone says good news, it’s always followed by bad news. To soften the blow, I guess.”
“What?” Brekt said, raising his normally soft voice. “Why would someone do that? That’s horrible! Getting someone’s hopes up, only to crush them. That’s brutal, man.”
“I never really thought of it that way. Still, considering our situation, I imagine there is some bad news. We did crash right?”
“Rough landing!” Aileena shouted, still hidden.
“Yeah, well, crash or landing, it’s a bit chilly, to say the least.” Brekt shivered. “Once the ship is safe, we’ll need to find some thicker clothes.”
“Once the ship is safe?” Michael adjusted himself. The ground was uncomfortable, and his trousers were sticking to the ice.
Aileena appeared from behind the loose pile of ice chunks. She was wiping her hands. She was followed closely by Mellok. The birdlike alien looked slick wet, chunks of blue goo stuck to his feathers.
“Had to override the reactor safeties to squeeze out the last of the power before the fuel ran out. It’ll take a while before we can purge the radiation from the ship. Meggok and Kestok are working on that now.”
“Wait? Won’t the radiation kill them?”