EVE®: Templar One (48 page)

Mordu knocked an empty bottle of whiskey off his desk while lunging for the datapad.
The caller source was unknown.

“Dad,” Arian said.

“Son,” Mordu said.
“I can’t believe I’m hearing your voice.”

“Disappointed?”
Arian asked.

“No father could ever be,” Mordu answered.

There was a pause.

“Ishukone saved our lives.”

“I know they did.”

Another pause, shorter than the last one.

“This thing between us isn’t over,” Arian said.
“But there’s a lot happening here.
The Watch, Ishukone—they’re mobilizing fast, like they’re getting ready to—”

The connection dropped abruptly.

When you add it all up, nearly a quarter million of us are participating in this op.
Some of you will not be coming back.
You are all mercenaries.
But you were soldiers before you came to me.
An honest man recognizes when it’s time to backtrack on some principles.
Let me do so now by declaring that for the first time in the history of our Legion, it is not about the money.
This clone we’re going after holds secrets that will determine the rise or fall of empires for a long time.
The outcome of today’s events will be the difference between a dark future or a dark future with a glimmer of hope.
Call me old-fashioned, but I’ll give it my all for hope anytime.
Make me proud by inspiring one another to do the same.
Not just for the Legion but for yourselves—and everything that’s important to you.
Good luck.
May fortune smile on us all.

HEIMATAR REGION—HED CONSTELLATION

AMAMAKE SYSTEM—PLANET II: PIKE’S LANDING

CORE FREEDOM COLONY

SOVEREIGNTY OF THE AMARR EMPIRE

Lord Victor stormed through the elevator’s eastern terminus entrance, ignoring the Paladins saluting him.
An MTAC was parked outside with its cockpit hatch raised; the pilot was chatting with a few soldiers milling about beneath it.
An armored truck was idling beside the group, and Victor marched directly toward it as the others snapped to attention.

He was well past the point of trying to control his thoughts or emotions any longer.

“Get out!”
he shouted at the driver, who practically threw himself from the door.
Victor stepped in and floored the accelerator, kicking up a plume of silt in his wake.

“Everything we sacrificed!”
he shouted, directing his anger toward Empress Jamyl, even though he was alone.
“For what?”

Vehicles frantically pulled out behind him, struggling to keep up.
But Victor didn’t know what to do: An attack was coming from the Imperial Navy … by order of the Empress herself!
How could he explain that?
He felt like a traitor, an infidel about to be judged—of all things, by the very nation and faith he had protected his entire life.

He slammed on the brakes.

In one direction, the road led to the nearest spaceport.
He could be on a dropship and aboard his own starship in no time, safe inside his immortal sanctuary, and could sound a general retreat from there.

Or he could head in the other direction, toward the nearest fortified installation, and tell the Paladins at Core Freedom to prepare for the fight of their lives.

What complete madness.

“God help me!”
he shouted.

Then his commlink sounded: It was Grand Admiral Kezti Sundara.

“Victor,” he began.
“We must speak in private.”

Breathing hard a few times before answering, Lord Victor composed himself.

“I’m alone,” he said.

“Good,” the Admiral said.
“Now listen to me: You must let reason dictate your actions, not passion.”

The sun was setting opposite the great mountain range to the east.
Every face of its immense granite heights was glowing radiantly.

Victor tried to find beauty in it and couldn’t.

“I’ve watched you over the years,” Admiral Sundara said.
“Even before Her Majesty’s ascension.
I know what you’ve invested in her and in the Templars.”

Lord Victor had no qualms with Amarr’s supreme military commander.
The Admiral was an able strategist, a skilled tactician, and well respected by the armed forces.
But he was never part of the inner sanctum of Empress Jamyl’s court.
That was by his own doing—a self-imposed separation of powers, to insulate himself from the petty politics of the heirs.
But no matter how united they were in cause and faith, he would always be an outsider to Victor.

“Amarr is lucky to have you,” he continued.
“You are one of the greatest Paladins in Imperial history.
But you must leave Pike’s Landing at once.”

“No,” Victor answered.
It was a reflex.
There was nothing to consider.

“Victor,” the Admiral said, “we must follow our Empress.”

“I can’t leave,” Lord Victor said.
“You don’t know what you’re telling me to do.”

“Evaluate dispassionately,” Admiral Sundara said.
“Think, Victor.
The heirs saw
everything.
That is damning enough.
But disobeying her will only feed the dogs who question her rule.
We will send a message of disarray and uncertainty—and worse, disloyalty.
I can’t have that.”

“Those Templars are the key to everything we stand for,” Victor fumed.

“And they remain so,” the Admiral said.
“Her concerns are with how we are building them.
We can find alternatives.
But by order of your Holy Empress, the
prototypes
must be destroyed.
This is only the end of the beginning.”

Victor shook his head.

“Thousands of the best soldiers in our Empire are now ‘prototypes,’” he said.
“What will you say to them?”

“That they are casualties of war,” Admiral Sundara said, “and that they have made no less a sacrifice than those who have fallen before them.”

Long shadows cast by the elevator terminus behind him reached across the grounds, engulfing the installations in the distance in darkness.

“Take my clones, Admiral,” Victor said.
“You know where they are.
Terminate them.
Send down your fire and end my life here, alongside my Templars.
I’d rather die with a clear conscience than live an eternity of regret.”

Grand Admiral Sundara paused.

“You are a pious man,” the Admiral said, “as I am.
The objective reasons to obey your Empress have been stated.
For any other man under my command, that would be all.
But for you, I will make an exception, in the hope it prevents Amarr from losing its finest Paladin.”

The radiant sun fell beneath the horizon.

“My heart tells me that we witnessed a warning from God,” Admiral Sundara said.
“Our Empress is suffering so we don’t have to.
Disobey her, and I fear for us all.”

A blaring alarm startled Victor, one at first, and then dozens more.
Their pitched warning carried across the entire colony.

It was an air raid.

“Going to kill me anyway, Sundara?”
Victor hissed.
“So be it.”

“I hear those alarms,” Admiral Sundara said.
“That is not by my hand.”

The commlink was screaming: About a dozen officers in orbit and on the surface were trying to reach him.

Data scrolled across his vision.
He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Federation gunships have just entered our airspace,” Victor said aloud.

“Then a fleet is nearby,” the Grand Admiral said.
“You must prepare your forces.”

“Why are they here?
For the Minmatar?”

“No, Victor.
They’ve come for the Templars.”

HEIMATAR REGION—HED CONSTELLATION

AMAMAKE SYSTEM—PLANET II: PIKE’S LANDING

THE GFS
PASSAIC
CARRIER GROUP

Admiral Elijah Freeman paced the bridge of the GFS
Passaic,
awash in the stream of data flowing through the air.
The op was barely ten minutes old and there was already bad news.

“We’ve been compromised,” the voice of Eagle One said.
“X-band sweep got us during atmospheric entry.
They know we’re here.”

Five Federation gunships, each carrying a dozen armed soldiers, plus a heavy dropship loaded with small armored vehicles, were descending to the surface of Pike’s Landing.
Their destination was the last known position of the missing 626 Recon commandos.
The latest intel suggested they could slip in undetected if their entry trajectory put them far east of the badlands, but it was clear the Amarr had finally plugged the gap in radar coverage.
With the elevator fully operational, the defensive capabilities of the colony were improving by the hour.
Industrial freighters had been arriving at the orbital platform terminus around the clock for days.

Well, enough of the sneaky shit,
Elijah thought.

“Eagle One, proceed with the mission but avoid direct contact if possible,” he said.
“We’re moving into position to provide overwatch.
Stand by.”

“Copy that; waiting for your eyes.”

Admiral Freeman reached for the fleet-link HUD.
Cloaked covert-operations ships were within two hundred kilometers of the space elevator orbital platform, evading Imperial patrols and collecting information about the activity at Core Freedom.
Their location, heading, and sensor information all appeared on the bridge in a huge volumetric tactical display.

“Stalker-Three, the fleet is warping to your grid,” he said.
“Confirm nearest enemy contact is one-nine-zero klicks at your twelve.”

“Stalker-Three confirms one-nine-zero at twelve,” the response came.
“Grid is not secure.”

“Understood, we’re coming anyway,” Freeman said, using both hands to broadcast his next announcement to the entire fleet through the HUD.

“All ships, prepare to warp,” he said.
“Stalker-Three is your beacon.
Enemy contacts will be in sight but out of range.
Defensive formations only; do
not
engage without my authorization.”

The surface team channel erupted with chatter.

“Command, Eagle One,” the voice said.
“We’re at the location; no sign of them.
Picking up enemy comms; there are patrols in the area.”

“Copy Eagle; overwatch in five seconds,” Freeman said.
“All ships, warp on my mark …
mark!
”

He felt a brief surge of vertigo as the Nyx-class supercarrier lurched into hyperspace.
When the space outside coalesced into focus, he could see the Core Freedom space elevator far in the distance—a tiny spindle shining above the bluish-brown orb of Pike’s Landing, hovering serenely among the twinkle of golden specs.

Time to open a second front in the Empyrean War,
he thought, keying an open broadcast to the Imperial fleet.

“Attention Imperial Navy warships.
This is Admiral Elijah Freeman of the Federation Navy,” he said.
“Gallente citizens under contract with Core Freedom Limited Partnership were in the colony when it was attacked by your forces.
We have reason to believe they fled eastward, into the badlands.
We are conducting search-and-rescue operations in this area.
Any hostile acts toward Federation search parties will be answered in kind.
Any offer of assistance will be considered.
Thank you.”

It was complete bullshit, of course.

“Here we go, Roden,” he muttered, as alarm warnings indicated the
Passaic
was being targeted by the Imperial fleet.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

*   *   *

HAATAKAN OIRITSUU HAD TAKEN
her revenge.
But strangely, this time it failed to satisfy.

She believed that Mens Reppola needed to be punished.
The remains of his loved ones were probably scattered all over Myoklar by now.
He deserved it because he had dangled freedom before her eyes and then snatched it away.
That cruelty deserved to be matched in kind.