Ep.#4 - "Freedom's Dawn" (The Frontiers Saga)

Chapter One

Commander Dumar looked out through the blast-proof windows of the third floor operations center. His eyes squinted in the glare of the setting sun, its waning yellow light flickering in and out as the smoke drifted past from the many fires of devastation still burning in the city. Most of the buildings across the parkway from him had been reduced to rubble as a result of the bombardment earlier that day. It seemed miraculous that, while so many structures around him lay in waste, his seemed undamaged. It was indeed a testament to the accuracy of Ta’Akar weaponry.

It wasn’t just his building that had escaped the destruction rained down upon them by the warship Yamaro. The majority of the structures still stood, some damaged and some not. As he looked out at his neighborhood, it appeared as if some enormous being had walked through the district, crushing buildings with every careless footfall as it lumbered across the sprawling metropolis that was his home.

His city, Aitkenna, was the capital of Corinair. It was the seat of not only the global government, but also of the entire Darvano system, in which the planet was a member. He had lived here for going on thirty years now. He had met his wife here, married here, and raised a family here. His home was only a few kilometers away to the east. The school where his children had been educated lay just beyond. In fact, much of his city was now gone, reduced to piles of rubble and bodies. The lives of the people of this world would be changed forever. The lives of his family would be changed forever. Even though it was all for the betterment of the empire he served, it saddened him, as it was destruction on a scale that few had ever witnessed.

Unfortunately, he was one of those few. This was not the first time he had seen such utter disregard for human existence, and he feared it would not be his last. His home had not been destroyed. This he had already confirmed. Nor had any of his immediate family been injured in this attack, just as he had suspected would be the case.

He drew in a deep breath and sighed as he wondered how many of his men could say the same about their homes and their families. He knew why this secret compound and his home to the east had not been targeted by the Yamaro. As the central operational command post for all the Ta’Akar Anti-Insurgency Units operating covertly on this world, its location would have been marked as ‘protected’ in the Yamaro’s fire-control systems. In addition, as the commander of all Ta’Akar anti-insurgency activity on Corinair, his home would also be on that list. He only wished that everyone under his command could share the same privilege. Had every one of his team’s homes been spared, however, a connection might eventually have been made, one that might lead to their untimely exposure. The advanced warning they received was barely enough for them to take whatever preventative measures they felt were needed.

So no one would be the wiser. To any but the most astute observer, the firing pattern would appear random rather than the prewritten target list it had actually been. To the people of Corinair, it was indiscriminate punishment for acts of sedition perpetrated by their fellow citizens—undoubtedly by Followers of the Order. With any luck, that would be enough.

For decades he had served as the planetary commander of the Anti-Insurgency Forces stationed here and on the two other populated worlds in the Darvano system. For decades he had trained his men, recruited Loyalists from the civilian population, and carefully massaged local informants in order to ensure the proper connections needed. Finally, the time that he and his men had trained for had come. As much as he loathed the things he would have to do, he also knew that he had little choice in the matter. If he did not, one of his subordinates surely would; and they might not be as humane about it if given the chance, especially since they all had something to prove. He did not. He had already served the empire and his king with considerable distinction, even if not with the same amount of pride.

His king.
The thought rang just as false whether spoken aloud or imagined. Caius was no king. Kings were stately men of courage, honor, wisdom… and above all else, mercy. These were qualities that Caius neither possessed nor understood. The man was nothing more than the heir to the throne of Ta’Akar. His father had been a true king, as had been his father and his father’s father before him. Their wisdom had forged a willing alliance throughout the Pentaurus cluster. They had built it from little more than a handful of struggling, hastily thrown together colonies in the wake of a great evil that had nearly destroyed all humanity… or so the legends told. At least they had before Caius, who in all his arrogance had decided to rewrite them in order to feed his own ego.

“Commander Dumar,” the young lieutenant said as he stepped up from behind, “we have received an update from our teams at the spaceport.”

The commander turned his gaze away from the burning ruins outside to face his subordinate. “What do they report?”

“As suspected, it is the command staff of the Yamaro, as well as her captain.”

The commander turned the rest of the way around to face the interior of the room, his attention moving to the large video screen on the far wall. The room was full of dozens of functionaries all going about their tasks, gathering intelligence, creating estimates, contacting informants, and communicating with field units. His command was a picture of efficiency, unlike the empire it served.

A live video feed from the spaceport showed the view from the crowd. He could see a large review platform filled with local dignitaries, many of which he recognized. Behind them and off to one side were the twelve members of the Yamaro’s command staff, as well as her captain. “Sir Augustine de Winter,” he said as if the name itself left an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

“You know him, sir?”

“I know of him,” the commander corrected. “Another pompous Ta’Akar nobleman of questionable skill and valor.”

The young lieutenant knew better than to comment on his commander’s disdain for the so-called ‘nobles’ of Ta’Akar society. As with most true men of war, he had little respect for the aristocracy that passed themselves off as honorable and worthy commanders. Such men had little use for honor or patriotism. Their interests were in far more tangible concerns. Men of his ilk were one of the many reasons he had asked for this assignment; so he could finish out his long and distinguished military service without having to deal with such fools.

“They appear to be turning the prisoners over to the Corinairans, sir,” the lieutenant concluded.

“Yes, this will not sit well with command; of this I am sure,” the commander said. “Have we been able to make contact with the Yamaro?”

“No sir. Not since she broadcast her surrender a few hours ago.”

“Is the ship still in orbit?”

“Yes sir. Although she appears to be powered down, our scans revealed only minimal life support. The enemy ship—which we have since learned is called the ‘Aurora’—still holds station alongside her.”

“And the rest of the Yamaro’s crew?”

“We believe they are still on board. We stopped receiving telemetry from the Yamaro more than an hour ago. At that time, the ships sensors showed around two hundred people gathered in two of the primary cargo bays, as well as two dozen more being held in the detention cells.”

Commander Dumar watched the video feed as one of the strangers wearing a uniform of unfamiliar design stepped up to the podium, his hand held high by one of the local dignitaries. The action had caused the crowd in attendance to swell into a roar of approval at the arrival of the visitor, and they were chanting something—although the commander could not quite make it out. “What are they saying?” he asked his lieutenant.

“Na-Tan. They are chanting
Na-Tan
. It’s the name of the guy in the Legend of Origins,” he reminded the commander, “the one that is supposed to—“

“I know of Na-Tan, Lieutenant,” the commander interrupted. Just like all of the men under his command, he was well versed in the Legends of Origin, so as to better understand his potential enemies.

“Of course, sir.”

The commander stared at the face of the one called Na-Tan displayed on the screen as the camera zoomed in on him. “He appears a bit young to be a legend, don’t you think?”

The lieutenant fidgeted uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond. “Uh, yes sir.” The lieutenant waited a few seconds before relaxing at the lack of response from his commander.

“And the other cells? Have they reported in?” the commander wondered.

“All eight cells on our continent have reported ready for operations. We are still waiting to hear from the cells on the other continents.”

“Very well, Lieutenant. I guess it’s about time we earned our pay, then. Send word to the teams at the spaceport. Tell them to begin. Then send flash traffic to all cells. Tell them to commence operations as well.”

“Yes sir,” the lieutenant responded as he saluted smartly.

The commander watched the video feed as the young stranger in uniform stepped up to the podium as if to speak. As ugly as things already were on his world, the commander knew they were about to get even uglier.

On the roof of the Anti-Insurgency Command Center, five Kalibri airships sat idling, their ducted fans whirring quietly overhead while the rotor blades were at a neutral pitch. Workers quickly slid extended passenger pods into the cargo bays of two of the five airships while another set of technicians slid a weapons pod into another.

“Are you ready for this, Andre?” the man teased his friend as he checked his gear. They were two of eight heavily armed and well-armored men standing off to the side of the rooftop flight deck. They prepared to board the remaining two airships, both of which were still in their standard configuration with their cargo bays open and empty.

“I’ve been ready for this for ten long years, my friend,” he answered as he slung his assault weapon over his shoulder and secured it to his chest harness.

“Do you think we’ll get to rotate back to Takara after this is over?”

“I don’t see why not,” Andre said. “If this works we will no longer be of use on this rock.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“Then we’ll probably be dead, my friend!” Andre laughed. “Either way, we’ll be done with this hellish place.”

“What? You won’t miss your wife and kids?”

“You mean my nagging wench and our screaming half-breeds?” Andre stated with obvious disdain. “With any luck they’re already buried in the rubble.”

“Poor Andre, not everyone ends up with an attractive cover wife,” his friend teased as they made their way to their airship.

“The women here do not respect their men. They don’t know their place.”

“This is not Takara, my friend. And these are not Takaran women,” he reminded him as he took his seat in the port side door of the airship, his legs hanging out the side.

“Of this fact I am painfully aware,” Andre exclaimed as he took a seat next to his friend in the empty doorway. “You’re lucky. You were caught cheating on your cow, so she left you. You got off easy.”

“That was not luck, my friend,” he said, tapping his head with his index finger.

Andre reached out with his right hand and slapped the canopy three times to signal the pilot that they were ready. “Someday, Bobby, we’ll be sitting on the shores of one of Takara’s inland seas, drinking cocktails while real women tend to our needs. Then we’ll look back on all of this and laugh.”

Andre leaned back just enough to cause his harness to lock into place, securely connecting him to the small airship in order to hold them firmly in place so that they would not fall out while maneuvering during flight. It was a bit uncomfortable and somewhat restrictive, but it was better than falling out of the airship while at altitude. It also left their hands free to scan the area and use their weapons on approach if necessary.

The lead aircraft, the one outfitted with the weapons pod, was the first to lift off, followed immediately by the two airships outfitted with the empty passenger pods.

Andre watched the rooftop of the command center fall away beneath him as his airship leapt upwards, spun ninety degrees to starboard, and then accelerated toward the setting Corinairan sun. Within seconds the command center was just another building amongst many, some damaged and some not. He watched as the devastation caused by one of his mighty empire’s warships passed rapidly beneath his dangling feet. He could see the people already fighting amongst themselves. It would be so easy for their operatives to pit these over-emotional Corinairans against one another. The news of the
sign
witnessed by legions of Followers all over the globe had already done much of the work for them. Loyalists had already clashed with Followers even before the bombardment had begun. Now that it had ended, the already enraged tempers of the people below would undoubtedly spin out of control with only the slightest encouragements. Soon, this world’s government would collapse and his people could step in and take control once and for all. Finally, they could turn this world into a mirror image of Takara herself. Although in Andre’s mind, that would necessitate nothing short of genocide.