Children of the Void: Book One of the Aionian Saga (36 page)

“Ah ha,” said Devereux. He could barely conceal the grin spreading across his face as he looked down at Gideon. “What did you do with my shuttle? And where are your friends? Abandoned you, I expect.”

Gideon pushed himself up onto his feet, doing his best to feign exhaustion. He lifted his head to glare at his foe, feeling the golden band seething on his wrist. He clenched his jaw and said nothing.

“What’s this?” said Devereux. “Finally run out of things to say, Killdeer? That’s all right. I’ll get it out of you one way or another.” He looked at the admiral, fully covered in Sentinel Armor, noticing him for the first time. Devereux opened his mouth to speak, then looked around at the two wearing armor by his side, then at David and Jennifer, then back at the admiral with a puzzled expression. “Is that you, Brock? Take off your helmet, you’re in the middle of camp.”

Ethan Killdeer turned his head to look directly at Devereux. He stepped forward until he was right in front of him. Then, slowly, he lifted his hand to his visor. When it slid open, Devereux’s eyes went as wide as cue balls, and he shrank back. There was another collective gasp from the crowd, followed by a wave of whispers spreading the admiral’s name across the camp.

“You’ve been busy, Morgan,” growled Gideon’s father, punctuating each word as the crowd fell completely silent. “Where shall I begin?” he asked, projecting so that no one could mistake his authoritative voice. “How many people have you murdered? Let’s start with Alexia Uritumbo, who you executed yourself just yesterday.”

A murmured roar rose from the crew members. Devereux tried to shout over them, claiming it was a lie, but it was Admiral Killdeer’s voice that silenced them. “And let’s not forget the explosion that killed Byron Marcus... and my wife.”

Devereux and his cronies stepped back as the crowd turned on them, shouting obscenities their way. “Enough!” yelled Devereux as they closed in. “You’re all fools if you believe a word Killdeer says. For two centuries, he’s known we were heading into a trap, thinking the aliens that attacked us were benevolent, practically worshiping them. You took orders from Killdeer, while he took orders from an alien race bent on domination.”

The mob quieted and slowed down as they looked back at Admiral Killdeer. “I wasn’t finished naming your charges, Devereux. Yes, I knew there were aliens out in the Void, and I knew there was plenty of danger for us all. That’s why we trained and armed ourselves as best we could, but once again, you played the saboteur and hacked into our Sentinel Armor, rendering it useless just before we needed it the most.”

The admiral turned in a circle to address the crew. “How many are dead because we weren’t properly armed? How many are lost because Devereux blew up our satellites? And for what? So that he could be a little King of Valkyrie? Even now, he leaves you exposed, hiding perfectly good suits of armor away so that you have no choice but to follow him.”

At this point, the mob was in a frenzy, and they closed in on Devereux and his followers, but so far, no one dared to make the first move against the well-armed traitors.

“Behind you, Admiral,” called Gavin McLeod. Both Gideon and his father turned to see that Lu Nguyen and Brock HartHoughs had joined the circle behind them. They, too, had armor and weapons.

Gideon turned back in time to see that Devereux had begun to raise his rifle at the admiral. Gideon lunged forward, and Devereux sneered, turning to aim his weapon at him.

Gideon smiled, and the Koramoa Armor unfurled in a golden cascade from his wrist. The crowd screamed and fell back. Devereux froze as his face contorted in shock. Gideon reached him as the armor formed a terrifying mask around his face. He roared, taking full advantage of the alien distortion caused by the mask. In the same instant, he leaned back and aimed a kick in the center of Devereux’s chest.

Without Sentinel Armor, the kick would have instantly killed Devereux. Instead, the traitor was blasted backward through the crowd and crashed into one of the distant tents ten meters away. The mob scattered, and Gideon turned to find David and Jennifer petrified now that the tide had turned so abruptly. They spun around and leapt over the fleeing crowd.

Gideon was going to pursue, but the rest of Devereux’s thugs had chosen to fight, and he couldn’t leave his father to fend for himself. He turned and saw the armored body of Brock Houghs on the ground with his skull smashed in, and the admiral facing off against the other three, holding them off with a bloody stone in his fist.

Gideon was momentarily stunned by the grisly scene of the dead man before him. He looked at the three men who were moving to surround him and his father. None of them wore helmets, and Gideon could see their faces. These were men Gideon had known his whole life. He’d seen them on the bridge, in the biosphere; Don Rich and Klaus Daimler had even been guests in his home. But now, as he looked into their eyes, he saw nothing but hatred there. They had made their choice, and would not stop until he and his father were dead.

The heat of battle coursed through him, and the Koramoa Armor flexed and grew in strength.

Gideon’s eyes locked on to Lu Nguyen, and he lunged at him, swinging his arm like a club. It came down at the base of the man’s neck, snapping bone and tearing flesh. Lu’s eyes glazed over, and he collapsed to the ground.

Something struck Gideon in the back and knocked him forward. He spun around as Don Rich swung a metal bar at him. It struck Gideon on the arm, and he tripped, falling onto his back. Don gripped the bar in both hands and leapt high into the air, coming down on top of Gideon. Gideon caught the bar mid-swing, simultaneously kicking the other man’s legs out from under him.

Don hit the ground, and in an instant, Gideon was on top of him. He pulled his arm back and let out a bloodcurdling roar. The armor reacted to his instinct and morphed into a blade as Gideon drove it down. Don’s body tensed, then went limp.
 

Gideon turned to see his father and Klaus Daimler circling each other in a slow dance. Gavin McLeod lay unconscious or dead on the ground nearby, blood seeping from his forehead. Although Gideon was sure his father could handle himself, it was time to finish this and go after Devereux.

Without him knowing it, the armor had changed back into the shape of a hand, so he bent down and picked up a fist-sized stone. He aimed directly at the other man’s head and let the stone fly. What happened next was not pretty, but it got the job done. Ethan Killdeer dropped his fists to his sides and turned to Gideon. “I had it covered, son.”

“Yeah, I know. Where’s Devereux?” said Gideon, panting more from the rush of adrenaline than fatigue.

They spun around to the sound of rockets firing. The last three shuttles lifted above the trees and sped off into the distance. Gideon didn’t stop to think about what to do next as he sprinted forward, leaping over bodies and terrified onlookers. He quickly picked up speed, gaining on the closest shuttle. With a huge leap, he soared through the air toward the open hatch.
 

Terrified people looked back at him from the open rear hatch. The shuttle was packed with people, but the only one Gideon noticed was David, cowering in fear. Just as Gideon was about to land on the back of the shuttle, Devereux appeared in the opening with a rifle. He lifted the weapon and fired at Gideon. The bullets ricocheted off the Koramoa Armor harmlessly, but the impact was enough to slow his momentum. He fell short of the shuttle and came crashing down into the woods below. The three shuttles sped off into the night. Gideon ran after them, but it soon became clear that they were too far ahead now even for the Koramoa Armor. He watched them disappear over the distant hills, then turned and walked back to the camp.

G
IDEON
AWOKE
ON
the ground inside a tent. Through the translucent material, he could tell that he had slept well into the morning. Shivering against the cold, he threw off his blankets and groaned as he stood. He didn’t remember climbing into this tent, or pulling on the covers. The last thing he remembered was watching while they took the Sentinel Armor off the dead soldiers. The image of their bloody faces were burned into his mind, no matter how hard he tried to forget.
 

Reminding himself that they were traitors, that they had watched as Devereux murder Alexia, and they would have killed him if he hadn’t killed them first, didn’t help him forget their faces. He had done his duty and protected his people from a tyrant, yet he still felt like a hole had been burned into his soul. Under the influence of hate and rage, he had done something that could never be undone, and he would have to live with that forever.
 

His hand clasped around the stone hanging from his neck. It was warm to his touch, and somehow soothing. As he stood alone in the tent, he wondered about what he’d gotten himself into. Up until now, he hadn’t had time to think about the burden carried by a Koramoa warrior. He looked at the stone, again mesmerized by the twisting smoke that seemed to fool the senses. How could something so small be so important? How many had been killed fighting over this little stone? It was too much to think about this early in the morning, so he got dressed and ready to go look for breakfast.

Once outside, he looked up to see that it wasn’t morning at all, but midday. His stomach grumbled, and he headed toward the large central tent set up for dining. People stopped to look at him as he passed, but no one said a word, at least not to him. He tried to ignore the stares and the whispers.
 

Someone had taken the bodies from the middle of the camp. He was glad he hadn’t been assigned that task. At that moment, he realized there was a large fire burning in the distance. A pang of guilt rose from deep within, but he forced it back down. Those men had lit their own funeral pyres; he refused to let that guilt take root in him.

He stepped into the dining tent. There was a crowd talking and eating, but the conversation died down as every head turned to look at him. He pretended not to notice and put his head down as he made his way toward the serving line. He was almost there when a voice yelled his name from across the tent.

“Gideon!” He looked up to see Gavin McLeod hobbling toward him, grinning from ear to ear, a white bandage wrapped around his head. “Good to see you’re awake.”

“Good to see you’re alive, Gavin,” said Gideon as he smiled and gave Gavin a hug. “How’s the head?”

Gavin tapped the bandage gingerly, then looked at the brace on his leg and shrugged. “Don’t even notice. Doctor says I just got knocked out, and my leg injury is acting up from all the activity. I’m only hobbling around to get sympathy.”
 

Gavin looked back up at Gideon with a grin, then pointed at the golden band around Gideon’s wrist. “That’s a neat trick you pulled last night. I never saw it coming. Neither did Devereux. I’ll never forget the look on his face.” Gavin laughed, but then his smile disappeared. “It’s bad luck they found you in the end. Sorry about Alexia and the others, Gideon, I really am.”

Gideon stared at nothing in particular. He dropped his head and nodded. “I’m going to go find them, you know.”

Gavin gave him a smile and gripped his shoulder. “Well, for now, let’s get you something to eat.” He had Gideon wait while he brought him a heaping plate of hot food. There was more food than he could possibly eat, but he did his best. Some of it was unfamiliar to him, but Gavin assured him they’d all tried it and it was safe to eat. When he could eat no more, he excused himself as best he could. He knew exactly where he wanted to go from there, and he made his way directly to the command tent. Two armored guards stood outside the tent, but they let him pass without a word. He stepped inside.

Admiral Killdeer was still wearing his armor, though now his head was uncovered. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were bloodshot, but he spoke to his officers with as much vigor and authority as Gideon had ever seen. They stood around a table littered with maps, both digital and hand-drawn.

“Gideon, you’re awake,” said Admiral Killdeer. “Did you get something to eat?”

“Yes, thank you, sir.” The setting called for the formality.

“We were discussing where to relocate the camp. I’m told there’s a makeshift fort in some cliffs west of here. You’ve been there, right? What do you think? Is it a decent place to dig in permanently?”

Gideon blinked. “You’re asking me?”

The admiral stepped around the table and stood in front of his son. “Of course. No one here has seen more of the surrounding territory than you. We’ve got some maps, but you’ve been there on the ground and know the terrain. Besides”—he gripped Gideon’s shoulder—“I’ve decided to promote you to a field commander over a platoon. From now on, you’re Lieutenant Killdeer.”

Gideon almost swallowed his own tongue. “What? You’re joking, right?”

“This isn’t a time to be joking around, Lieutenant. You’ve engaged the enemy. You’ve proven your ability as a tactician. You’re a fine soldier and an excellent leader. Not to mention a Koramoa warrior. I’m not sure what that entails, but I gather it’s not a title that’s thrown around lightly.”

“But I’m not even seventeen yet?”

“What’s age got to do with it? Technically, most of us here should have died of old age a long time ago. Age doesn’t matter as much to an aionian. You’re qualified, and frankly, we need you.”

“But... can I speak to you in private, sir?”

Admiral Killdeer looked at his son for a moment. “Gentlemen, ladies, would you give us a few minutes?” His officers shuffled out of the crowded tent, shaking Gideon’s hand and congratulating him as they left. When they were alone, the admiral turned and looked at Gideon. “What is it, son?”

Gideon swallowed and looked his father straight in the eye. “I can’t be a lieutenant because I’m not staying here. I’ve got to go.”

Admiral Killdeer nodded. “You mean you’ve got to go after the others.”

Gideon blinked. “Well, yes.”