Wings of Redemption (The Terra Nova Chronicles Book 3) Read online

  Jena sat opposite Carson, dressed in clean, dark-brown Cleric garb—a tunic, loose-fitting trousers, and a jacket. Obison’s medical staff had managed to mend her injuries, and much to Moretti’s delight, had even given him a complete database of Zeis medical knowledge, which he immediately loaded into his medi-gauntlet.

  “We don’t have a choice,” Jena said. Her voice was slightly weaker than usual, but a far cry from the painful groan from last evening. “We can’t just sit around and wait for Father to return. This animosity between the factions has been brewing under the surface for far too long, and now that it’s boiled over, we need to put a public face to the extremists on their side.”

  Obison didn’t seem convinced. “Yes, but…”

  “And how long has it been since we’ve had a political assassination? A hundred years? Longer? They started this war, Obison, and by Balai, I mean to finish it.”

  “I can only do so much to protect you, my child.”

  “Your generosity knows no bounds, Obison, which is one of the reasons my father loves you so much. However, I don’t require your protection. Once in the Conclave, the Clerics will be all the protection I need. And once I present my evidence, the Conclave will be forced to finally pay attention. They have ignored the Crown’s corruption for far too long.”

  “Indeed, they have,” Obison said, resigned.

  Dawn light danced through the cabin, flashing in Carson’s eyes. She squinted, raising a hand to shield her eyes, mentally cursing the pain still lingering behind them. Though now only a dull ache, it hovered at the edge of her consciousness, and she didn’t need any more distractions.

  The pilot said something to Obison, who nodded and turned back to the cabin. “We have arrived.”

  As the shuttle flared to land, Carson leaned forward, her eyes on Jena. Keeping her voice low, she asked, “What can we do?”

  Jena grimaced briefly as the shuttle rocked, then smiled. “Just…be aware. There will be a lot of speeches in the Conclave, though what is actually said will be much less.”

  Carson sniffed. “Sounds just like home. A whole bunch of posturing and finger-pointing, but nothing ever gets done. Typical politicians.”

  “It wasn’t always this way,” Jena said. “But the division happening between the Isolationists and the Opposition is the worst my people have seen in a long time. This will not be easy.”

  “Then why go at all?” Obison pleaded.

  Carson sat back, frowning at the intrusion.

  The Zeis continued, oblivious. “We can take my ship to this Terra Nova, we can get word to your father, and he can meet us there. There is no need for us to address the Conclave now. We’ll bide our time until we can force the vote in our direction.”

  “No,” Jena said. “This must be done now. They have taken the first step toward civil war, and I will not allow them to twist this into something against my family—which, given time enough, is exactly what they’ll do. You know that just as well as I.”

  Obison opened his mouth to respond then closed it without saying anything. He nodded then met Jena’s eyes once more. “You speak truth, Jena. I don’t deny it.”

  “We must do this.”

  “Yes. We must.”

  Carson stood and pressed a hand against the ceiling as the shuttle settled on its landing struts.

  “Forgetting something?” West asked, nodding to the helmet she’d set down in her place.

  “Not going to do me much good in there,” Carson told him. “Either we get help or we don’t. One busted helmet isn’t going to swing the vote.”

  West considered her for a moment then removed his helmet as well. “Kinder, gentler, right?”

  Carson grinned. “Right.”

  Carson and her team followed Jena and Obison across a wide landing pad filled with shuttles and transport craft. A massive circular building topped with an enormous glass dome loomed before them. The structure was surrounded by hundreds of polished marble pillars, each topped with a different Zeis figure that appeared to be carved right out of the pillars themselves.

  “They sure do like their statues,” Birch said.

  The early morning crowds were sparse as they made their way across the tarmac, but every so often, one or two Zeis would point and whisper at the sight of Carson and her team. Several stopped dead in their tracks, not bothering to hide their curiosity.

  Or is it disdain? Carson wondered.

  “What a security nightmare,” West muttered, his eyes continuously scanning their surroundings.

  “Jena said no one would try anything out in the open like this,” Carson said, reassuring herself as well as West.

  “She’d have probably said the same thing about hyperloop travel before the attack,” Birch said.

  Carson couldn’t argue with that. “Keep your eyes open.”

  “Cleric Jena!” called a Zeis male, jogging up to her. As much as Carson could judge age here, he appeared to be in his late thirties. He had a thin face and maroon hair cut short, and he wore a dark-brown leather tunic and pants. Carson caught a glimpse of a sidearm holstered to his waist under a long black overcoat.

  “Cleric Wru.” Jena touched her forehead.

  The Cleric did the same. “You cannot be here, Jena. The Crown has petitioned the Conclave for exclusion against your family. You’ll be arrested as soon as you step onto the floor.”

  Jena stopped, grimacing slightly, then seemed to catch herself and straightened. “The Conclave is not aware of the Crown’s actions against me. They will hear me prior to rendering judgment. Or is due process no longer a consideration?”

  “The Crown has made a fairly strong argument against your father,” Wru said, then looked over the Pathfinders. “Conspiring with aliens to bring down the Conclave. A fact she says you’ve confirmed by bringing them here.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Jena said, moving past him as she put a hand against her stomach. “If anything, it proves our position—that maintaining external relationships is the only way for our people to survive what’s coming.”

  Wru struggled to keep pace with Jena, despite her injuries. Carson exchanged a look with West, then followed after, the rest of her team in tow. Jena led them through empty corridors and side passages until they arrived in a vast, circular assembly chamber. A raised dais stood in the center of the room, surrounded by rows of concentric circles, each row higher than the last. The room was broken into four sections, separated by wide staircases that reached to the top corners of the chamber.

  Several groups of people congregated in an open area between the dais and the first row, sharing hushed conversations that died away as soon as their group entered the chamber. They all turned as Jena led the humans to the base of the dais, where a wide staircase wound around the outside to the platform at the top.

  “How dare you!” a female voice shouted, the high-pitched screech echoing around the chamber.

  Carson whirled, as did the rest of her team, all looking for the source. A larger group on the far side of the common area separated, allowing Princess Kalene to pass through. Her golden dress flowed around her, shimmering even in the low light of the chamber. Her veil blew back over her head, revealing her face, contorted with fury.

  A Consul followed in Kalene’s wake, a half-grin plastered on his face.

  She pointed. “You dare show your face here?”

  Jena stepped toward the woman, Benit and Wru following close behind. Nunez and Moretti moved to follow, but Carson held out a hand, stopping them. “No. Wait.”

  Obison leaned close. “Princess Kalene and Consul Refradnar, speaker for the Isolationists.”

  “I am a Cleric,” Jena said, her voice level and calm. “I have the same right to the Conclave as anyone.”

  Cleric Wru stepped in between the females, hands out to both of them. “This will not happen here.”

  Refradnar pointed at Cleric Wru. “Who are you to give orders to the princess?”

  Kalene stopped, hands on her hips, pi
nching the folds of her dress. “I will not take orders from a simple Cleric. Step aside.” She turned to her guards, pointing to Carson and her team. “Arrest them!”

  “No!” Wru shouted. “This is a sacred place, Princess. You must not taint it so.”

  “Taint?” Kalene pointed at Jena, fire in her eyes. “She is the one that brings evil into our most holy of sanctuaries. She is the one that threatens our Hearth. Can no one else see it?” Her eyes flicked over several onlookers, as if searching for anyone to back up her claim, to see what she saw. “How can you let this evil walk free?”

  “They are not evil, or a threat. They—”

  Kalene spun on the spot, waving both arms through the air. “You see? You see what she wants? What those like her want? They want to give our home to outsiders, to foreigners who would subvert everything our people hold dear. Just like the Regulos, like the Pindiki, like—”

  “Like the Triumvirate!” Jena shouted.

  Kalene’s head snapped back to Jena. “A lie! A lie to undermine the Conclave and everything it stands for. You have lost your way, Cleric. Continue on this path and I will be forced to make your family’s exclusion permanent. Arrest them!”

  “Guards!” Refradnar shouted, clapping.

  Jena didn’t move. “You already attempted that once and failed, Princess.”

  Kalene hesitated for a moment. “More lies. We’ve already seen evidence that the attack on the hyperloop was a group of Isolationist extremists.”

  “I’ve said nothing of an attack. The only ones with knowledge of the event are standing right behind me. How is it you know so much?”

  The princess’s face darkened. “How dare you.”

  “How dare you!” Jena shouted, stepping forward as Cleric Wru backed away. “On what grounds do you hold an exclusion over my family? What gives you—” She burst into a fit of coughing, one hand covering her mouth, the other pressing against her hidden wound.

  Benit put an arm around her. “Jena, please,” he said as a thin smile crept across Kalene’s face.

  “No.” Jena gritted her teeth. In obvious pain, she straightened. “What…what gives you the right? Or do you mean to tell me the Conclave approved your attempt on my life?”

  Kalene’s smile faded just as quickly as it appeared.

  She’s nervous, Carson thought. Jena’s backing her up against a wall and she knows it.

  “You’re a traitor to the Crown and to Yalara!” Kalene screamed. “You violate the sanctity of the Conclave with your very presence! How dare you make such baseless claims with no proof! I demand honor and I will have it!”

  A series of hushed gasps flowed through the gathering crowds. Several turned to each other, as if trying to confirm what they’d heard. One of Kalene’s guards put a hand on her shoulder, whispering something in her ear.

  She brushed him off. “No! The honor is mine and I will have it!”

  “Princess, please,” Cleric Wru said. “Jena is not—”

  Refradnar crossed his arms, grinning. “You speak for the Cleric now?”

  “If it’s honor you want, you’ll get that and more,” Jena said.

  “Jena,” Benit said, his voice low, “you’re in no condition…”

  Jena opened her mouth to answer, but another coughing fit overwhelmed her and she doubled over, her face contorted in pain.

  “Princess,” Wru said, “you can see the Cleric is not well.”

  “Then she should not be making such claims. She knows the laws better than most.” Kalene glared at him.

  The Cleric hesitated for a moment, as if trying to formulate an argument to the princess’s words. Finding none, he bowed his head. “The honor.”

  Jena grimaced. “I will stand.”

  Wru turned, a pleading look on his face. “Please, Cleric Jena, it is plain you are in no condition to—”

  “The honor is—” A coughing fit cut her off.

  Carson made the connection quickly, and before she realized what she was doing, she was stepping beside Jena, her eyes locked on the princess. “I’ll fight in her place.”

  More shocked mutterings echoed throughout the chamber around them. The crowd had more than doubled in the last few minutes, and people were now packed together shoulder to shoulder.

  West took Carson by the arm. “Chief, I don’t think—”

  “Stand down, Sergeant,” Carson said under her breath.

  “A foreigner cannot accept the honor! This is ridiculous.” Kalene held her arms out. “First, you desecrate this holy place with your lies, then you bring these…demons to spit on our laws. Your Hearth is tainted, and you are blind to your crimes.” She turned to her guards. “Arrest these creatures.”

  As Kalene’s guards stepped around her, Carson’s team reached for their weapons.

  “Wait!” Jena roared, her voice cracking with the effort.

  Everyone in the chamber froze, gauss carbines half pulled from retaining clamps, pistols barely cleared holsters. The eyes of every warrior locked on their opponents, as if challenging them to make the next move.

  Jena grimaced again, holding her breath. After a moment, she opened her eyes, glaring at Kalene. “You are right in one thing, Princess. I do know the law better than most.”

  Kalene’s face went stoic.

  “A champion can be appointed if the challenged is unable to fight, either by age or by injury.”

  Kalene turned to Wru, who nodded. “Jena speaks truth.”

  “You…you can’t possibly allow a…this…this…creature has no honor! It’s plain to see. She is unfit for the honor.”

  “I can assure you she has more honor than most in this room,” Jena said. “She has saved my life more than once and she has never lied to me.” She coughed but quickly regained her composure. “If anyone lacks honor here, it is you.”

  The princess stood shocked, obviously unsure how to proceed, her eyes darting between Carson and Jena. A hush fell over the chamber as the assembled crowd waited to hear Kalene’s answer.

  You messed up and you know it, Carson thought, a smile building at the corners of her mouth. Now, do you back out and lose face or do you continue on and let me kick your ass? Her fists clenched in anticipation.

  “You or this…foreigner, it makes no difference,” the princess finally said. “Honor shines on the just. Unlike those seeking to destroy everything we’ve built here, I will protect my Hearth.”

  Benit held Jena’s arm as she turned to Carson, a pained expression covering her face. “The honor is yours.”

  Kalene clapped her hands together once. “To the honor!” Her guards roared, cheering and shaking fists in the air.

  Carson put a hand up, motioning for her men to stand down. Whatever happened next, it would be her burden to carry. Despite their expertise and training, one team of Pathfinders wouldn’t be able to stand against an entire army—an entire planet, for that matter. Pulling off a victory here would hopefully put her in a better position to bring the Zeis and humans together against the Triumvirate.

  Benit helped Jena move back to the group. Even in the last few minutes, Jena’s face had lost much of its bronze hue. Her eyes were tired, her jaw clenched tight, obviously fighting against considerable pain.

  Moretti stepped forward, activating his medi-gauntlet. “You’re not looking so well.” He panned the device over the Cleric’s body, red and green lines sweeping across her thin frame.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, brushing Benit away. “We need to prepare.”

  Carson nodded. “What do I need to do?”

  “The honor is a contest between two combatants. The fight lasts until one surrenders or is rendered compliant.”

  “You mean unconscious?” Carson asked.

  Jena nodded. “There are no weapons and you won’t have the benefit of your armor. The honor requires only personal ability and strength to prove one’s self alone.”

  Carson unbuckled one of her shoulder clasps. “Then let’s get this started.”


  Chapter 20

  “This coffee could be better,” Martel said, grimacing as the overly bitter liquid ran over her tongue.

  “I hear there’s a pretty good market for fresh-grown coffee out here,” Knight said.

  “There’s a pretty good market for everything out here,” Martel said, “because they don’t have anything.”

  “We pull through this, I’m starting a coffee farm.”

  “You don’t know anything about farming coffee.”

  “It’s not like I can’t learn. Can’t be that hard, can it? Put some beans in the ground, wait, pick, repeat. How hard is that? I’ll call it Knight’s Dawn. No decaf ever.”

  Martel grimaced, taking another sip. At least she could feel the caffeine starting to work. Why was it every important briefing had to be so early in the morning? Wouldn’t a ten o’clock briefing be just as effective as a seven o’clock one?

  Most of the senior command crew was already present.

  She started to agree with Knight’s feelings on decaf, when the door to the operations room opened and Ken Hale walked in. Finally, she thought.

  “OK, people, sorry I’m late.” Hale stepped up to the holo table and tapped a command into the console in front of him. The Christophorous flickered into existence above the table, slowly rotating on its axis. “As some of you know, we’ve been fabricating the components to assemble a macro cannon on the remains of the original colony ship. Most of the primary construction is finished. We just have a few last-minute adjustments to make to the power plants and we’ll be ready to bring it online.”

  Standing across the table from Martel, Captain Handley cleared his throat. “Will you be test-firing the weapon?”

  “As much as I’d like to, I’m not sure that’d be prudent. We’ll be conducting preliminary fire-sequence tests and capacitor tests, but the engineers are afraid we’d risk blowing out the core, and if we truly only have one shot, I’d rather not waste it.”

  “And if it doesn’t fire at all?” Handley asked.