Evan Currie - Heirs of Empire

I don’t know how, but somehow the loyalists found them.

The skies knew that he had tried to find the missing Cadre members, but when Everett burned the servers, he’d effectively destroyed all leads Corian could have used.

Cruisers sailing over the capital were now hammering his defenses with near impunity, the air-defense stations were already smoldering ruins, and a flood of rebels were charging into the city through the fallen gates. The fighting was devolving to door-to-door and block-to-block skirmishes that would be vicious and hard fought … but the outcome was written.

Corian calmly walked to a command station and picked up a secure comm line.

“Order my personal units to fall back and prepare to retreat,” he said quietly. “No, just my own men. The rest will buy us time; maybe they’ll even kill someone valuable. But I want my men out of the capital within the hour.”

Corian flicked off the comm channel and looked over the people monitoring the battle, catching the eye of one of his men and nodding silently.

Then he turned and simply walked out.

The capital may be lost, and with it the throne of the empire, but his campaign was far from finished.

Brennan was slammed back in his seat as he flipped the Naga end for end and caught a reverse air current, using the sails as brakes to kill his speed in a bone-crushing maneuver. The sudden reversal sent the much larger destroyer that was chasing him flying past, probably as much out of sheer shock as the more significant momentum of the larger ship.

“Coming around,” Brennan gritted out. “Shoot those bastards!”

Kennick, who was shaking his head to try to clear the stars he was seeing, managed to mumble in agreement and get his hands back on the gunnery controls.

Brennan again flipped the Naga end for end, bringing her guns to bear on the destroyer right on cue.

The MACs buzzed as Kennick jammed his thumb down, sending a thousand rounds of magnetically accelerated metallic death into the destroyer that was only just starting to come around in an attempt to bring her guns to bear.

The gargantuan craft took the hits amidships as she turned, the line of rounds cutting a gash almost fifty feet long in the ship’s side.

“Watch out!” Kennick blurted as he spotted the destroyer’s broadside cannons spit plasma trace.

Brennan worked the controls, but they were going too slow now, and the sails weren’t even close to a wind layer he could use to do much more than stay aloft. The lase blasts and plasma trace etched a cage of light around them, and for a moment it seemed like they were going to escape.

A shudder and a screaming sound put paid to that thought as one of their projector moorings was blown clean off and the Naga twisted in the air, dropping in a parabola under their one remaining sail.

“We’re going down!” Brennan called.

“We’ve got company,” Kennick said, eyes on the smoking destroyer that was also losing altitude quickly.

The problem was that the bigger ship still had some control and, it seemed, a death wish for the little Naga that had taken it out.

“They’re lining up another shot!”

“I can’t maneuver,” Brennan swore. “We’re helpless here!”

Kennick swallowed but continued to watch as the Naga swung under their one remaining sail as they descended to the ground below. “She’s firing!”

The cage of plasma trace etched around them again as Brennan slapped his hand down and the Naga lurched, Kennick’s stomach jumping up into his throat.

“Did they hit us?” he wondered out loud.

“No. I killed our sail,” Brennan answered, sweating as he worked the pedals to bring the tail back up and the nose down. “I’m going to glide us in.”

“Is this thing rated to a glide landing?”

“Not even close.”

Corian walked into the late emperor’s private hangar, heading for his personal flyer, but he stopped about halfway there. He drew the Armati from his belt and casually extended the blade to his preferred length before turning around.

Mira Delsol was standing behind him, her own weapon in stave form.

“Well now”—Corian smiled—“you are a credit to the Cadre, Delsol. I will offer you that much respect. However, you’ve crossed me one time too many.”

Mira looked at him with cold, almost haunted eyes. “You turned my men against me, then set them to murder me and Stephan.”

“Who?” Corian asked, honestly puzzled.

“Exactly.”

Corian was still trying to figure out who the hell Stephan was when Mira attacked, but the question didn’t dent his reflexes even slightly; he easily parried her blow and casually lashed out in a kick. He knew he’d cherish the look on her face forever as the blow lifted the woman clear off her feet and sent her flying back more than twenty yards, then tumbling and skidding across the floor another fifteen into the wall.

“Prosthetics have certain advantages,” he admitted as he calmly began walking toward her, “and while I can’t say I’d have chosen to lose my leg , I believe that I’ve made the best of a bad situation, don’t you?”

Mira rolled to her hands and knees, shaking her head to clear it. She cast about, trying to spot her Armati, but she didn’t see it and couldn’t remember actually losing it. She was struggling to get to her feet when another kick from Corian lifted her clean off the deck and sent her flying back into the wall again.

“Pah!” he spat on the ground. “I slew Scourwind with a single motion. You aren’t even close to my old friend’s level, Delsol. You’re one hell of a Cadrewoman, and maybe in fifty years you’d be my equal, but you’re not going to have the chance to prove it.”

Mira spit blood, spattering the deck as she gasped through the pain in her ribs and went for her blaster.

Corian’s boot slashed out, catching her wrist and sending the weapon clattering across the deck. Mira flipped over onto her back and stared up at him in shock.

“Surprised? Really?” Corian asked as he stood over her. “I suppose few people ever really learn just how powerful a Cadreman can become … we’re a secretive lot, Delsol. I doubt anyone, even the late emperor, really had any idea of our limits.”

He drew back his weapon, a thick, long two-edged blade with an ornate hilt, and sneered down at her.

“You should have signed on with me,” Corian said as he struck.

Mira’s eyes widened and she threw up her hands in a useless defensive gesture. In the corner of her gaze, as time slowed, she saw the gleam and ivory of her own Armati. So close, yet beyond her reach. Mira looked back up at the descending blade and closed her eyes, wishing she had the comforting weapon in hand.

Elan!

The Armati shone briefly on the deck, fifty feet from the fighting, then vanished from sight and reappeared in Mira’s hand. Mira’s fist closed reflexively over the contoured weapon as her eyes opened and time sped up again.

Sword slammed into stave with enough force to throw sparks across the deck and into the faces of both shocked warriors, who stared at each other for a brief instant.

“What?” Corian managed to blurt. Mira didn’t blame him. She was wondering the same thing, but her body didn’t have time for that nonsense, and it already knew what to do.

The Cadrewoman curled up, rolling onto her shoulders as she held off the sword, then kicked out with all the strength she had in two good legs. The blow didn’t pack the force Corian’s kick had, but it was enough to lift the big man off the ground and throw him into the air as Mira spun on her shoulder and kicked out to bring herself up to her feet.