Stand or Fall (The Omega War Book 4) Read online

> Lucille said. <>

  “I’m not taking anything other than what’s on my back, Lucille. We’re not staying a minute longer than we have to.”

  <>

  Jessica opened her eyes, then rolled them. “I know, Lucille, but we’re racing against time.”

  <>

  Gods, why did I give Tara the updated version of Lucille? Jessica smiled but said nothing more aloud. The adjustments to Lucille’s architecture generated by her actions and combat experiences alongside Tara Mason made the program much more like artificial intelligence than Jessica wanted to acknowledge. She’d played with Lucille since she found the program on her father’s dusty work computer when she was twelve. Instead of the large, holographic displays that were the forerunners of Tri-Vs, her father had a simple color monitor and an archaic monochromatic one on his desk. She’d fought with her mother over a school-sponsored skating event and retreated to her father’s deserted office to do her homework. She’d touched the keyboard, and all the systems sprang to life. A single line of text appeared on the monochromatic screen in bright, vibrant green.

  Set the terms.

  She’d wondered what it meant until she’d typed a response. What?

  To get things done, the user must set the terms. You identify the requirements. The system will perform them.

  Are you the system?

  No, my name is Lucille.

  She’d forgotten about the skating event, as well as many social gatherings and outside-of-school opportunities. Lucille became the friend Jessica had always wanted. She’d been a project of Snowman’s, left behind on his computer when he’d gone into the void. Tinkering with Lucille made Jessica feel closer to her father, despite his absence. Coding was only part of the equation. With time and considerable work, Lucille gained the ability to listen to commands and connect herself to available visual systems, and Jessica had gained a companion. Over time, Jessica realized she couldn’t really have a near-AI as a friend, and she’d successfully broken her emotional connection, while retaining her ability to use Lucille as a tool. For all the abilities she’d gained over time, Lucille was still a program and followed the limits of her guidance, but she gave Jessica a sizeable advantage in most matters.

  As a mercenary, this approach served Jessica well and moved her ahead of her peers in almost every engagement, mission, and moment of crisis. When she’d gone to the Peacemaker Academy, Lucille had helped Jessica with her homework, not unlike the private study programs anyone with a few thousand credits could purchase. She was as much a reason for Jessica’s success as a Peacemaker as Jessica’s own work. Yet, on Weqq without Lucille’s reassurance in her ears, Jessica accomplished her mission with exceptional aplomb. She didn’t need Lucille, yet deploying without some version of her felt strange.

  <>

  “Atmospheric results? Will I be able to breathe?”

  <>

  She recalled Lucille’s words seven minutes later when she stepped off the ramp, took a deep breath of the New Persian air, and nearly retched. The planet smelled like burning shit. Jessica closed her helmet’s faceplate and engaged its filtration system as she surveyed the scene. The sandy plains outside Tal-al Badr caught the early morning sunlight spectacularly, but the horrid odor and the pall of smoke in the air made Jessica close her eyes and fight another battle with her revolting stomach. Her laser rifle at the ready, she crunched through the sand as she headed toward the town. The yacht had set down on high ground, a brownish gray dune overlooking the smoldering ruins of the colony. Bodies were everywhere, and more than a few bird-things, not entirely unlike the Urrtam she’d encountered on Weqq, picked at the carrion and squawked raucously as she approached them. Unlike the Urrtam, the bird things were no threat to her. Among the Human bodies, Jessica noticed small weapons suggesting a close-in fight had taken place, but there was no evidence of any attackers. There were no men in the carnage that she could see. The women, and in some cases children, had tried valiantly to defend themselves, but there were no adversaries mixed in with the casualties and, therefore, no clear enemy.

  Jessica frowned. “Lucille, I only see human bodies.”

  <>

  “They didn’t want to be found out.”

  <>

  “Then everyone becomes a potential terrorist.” Jessica sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy. She paused at the outskirts of town and checked her slate for any connection to the settlement’s systems. There was nothing. “Lucille, capture and upload video from my visor. We need to further document everything from this perspective. Augmenting what Dreel’s ship collected is the best course of action I can come up with right now.”

  <>

  Jessica didn’t have a clear response in mind. On one hand, there was pure, unadulterated anger. Seeing Humans sprawled in death among weapons and complete destruction enraged her. She was angry at the responsible party, whether it was Drehnayl or someone else the Mercenary Guild ordered to commit this atrocity, or Nigel Shirazi and the Four Horsemen. How could they do something like this?

  “Lucille, what are you seeing that I’m missing?”

  <>

  “That’s not enough to confirm their presence.”

  <> Lucille replied, and the channel went silent.

  A wisp of breeze swirled around Jessica as she knelt to check a body. The older woman lay where she had fallen more than two weeks earlier. Her dark skin had already started to desiccate in the hot, arid climate. She wore the traditional feminine robe and head covering, but it was not the all-covering burqa worn by the extremely conservative Muslims of Earth. Beside her, in the sand, lay a partially-buried AK-74 assault rifle which looked like it had seen better days. Jessica ran a gloved finger along the worn, wooden stock. The weapon would probably fire just as well now as when it was forged. Good weapons never outlived their usefulness.

  She looked around and realized the women, and at least two older men, had fallen in a skirmish line. She’d had enough crime scene coursework to know that the orientation of the bodies suggested the defenders’ skirmish line was static, and they had likely watched the MinSha swarm over the large dunes. Jessica shook her head. They’d stared into hell and gone down firing. Jessica tried to count them but stopped after a dozen. Something in the distance caught her eye. She walked east and saw the smaller body of a child.

  Her heart crept into her throat when she reached the young girl. She wasn’t more than ten. Her eyes were closed, and she lay face down in the sand with her right hand under her body. There was an angelic, peaceful look on the part of her half-buried face that Jessica could see.

  <>

  Jessica touched the rim of the visor and immediately saw a small heat source under the girl’s robes. Jessica carefully rolled the tiny corpse over and saw the familiar weapon the girl held.

  A MinSha officer’s pistol.

  Jessica took the weapon out of the child’s hand and stripped it quickly. The internal power unit was still functional. Every laser pistol contained a central processor unit that modulated the weapon, and most carried a master file that would tell Jessica where the unit was last charged, be it a ship, a planet, or at the hands of a mercenary force. I
t was a tremendous find, and the little girl died protecting it, not knowing whether anyone would find her body or what she’d hidden. Jessica touched the dead girl’s shoulder as her eyesight blurred with tears.

  You’ll never grow up. I am so sorry.

  “We failed you,” Jessica said. “But you did a brave thing, honey. And together, we’re going to make these bastards pay.”

  <>

  Jessica unstrapped the combat slate from the left forearm of her BAMF jacket. From the upper pocket of her bandolier, she withdrew a universal connection cable and plugged one end into the slate. Jessica disassembled the pistol and found a connection point on the chipset where she could attach the universal clip to access the data.

  <> Lucille chirped in her ear.

  Jessica waited, running her gloved fingers through the brown, flecked sand and looking over at the smoldering buildings of the inner settlement. Her father had known Afghanistan as a young man. He’d often talked about how the people there didn’t care for anything. His buddies would brag about wanting to punch Muslims in the throat for being backward and stupid. Her uncle Kyle died there defending a village from extremists carrying IEDs under their robes. She had conflicting emotions about her past, but her present forged her feelings into a hot, molten ball of fury. These people were just that—people. Humans. They were non-combatants, and even though the rest of galaxy didn’t seem to care about tragedy or collateral damage, she did. Those who casually took life on such a scale needed to be taught a lesson. They needed to pay.

  <>

  “Sonuvabitch.” Jessica shook her head. “Prepare a confirmation message to the guild, Lucille. Ask them to send a burial team to the planet. These people deserve whatever honors we can be bestow on them. As soon as the message is ready, send it. We’re going to the gate.”

  <>

  Jessica collected the combat slate and strapped it back on her forearm. She slung the BAMF jacket over her shoulder and walked in the direction of the yacht at the city’s outskirts. “Our destination, Lucille, is the nearest MinSha planet. Every one of their planets has a colonial queen. We’re going to use the MinSha chain of command against them.”

  <>

  “That’s why it’s necessary, Lucille,” Jessica said. “Because all of this is going to happen again and again. Humans, alone, might not be enough to stop it.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Six

  Zeha, MinSha-controlled planet

  Ares Minor system

  Tirr moved through the subterranean corridors of the Queen’s Palace toward the central chamber by gut instinct rather than experience. He’d arrived on Zeha only two weeks before as the newly-appointed executive officer of the Queen’s Guard. The decoration for valor on his chiton didn’t hurt matters. Male MinSha were drones more often than not. Those with a brain and the sterility necessary to avoid angering the larger, more powerful females were often relegated to positions as politicians or security forces and could expect a shitty life supporting the greater colony. In Tirr’s case, things were different. His actions on Weqq were cause for adulation. As the commander of a security force, his ability to save the colony and defeat Human attackers bordered on legendary. With the valor citation on his chest and a battlefield promotion to lieutenant colonel in his file, Tirr reported for duty with the same determination he’d had as a young lieutenant. He also reported with something more. For the first time in the MinSha’s history, a commendable relationship with a Human had been recorded. But, Jessica Francis was much more than a Human. She was Earth’s first Peacemaker, and Tirr was honored to be her friend.

  Battle and history linked them now. He’d had to relate the story half a dozen times in the last several weeks, and it was no surprise his regional queen wanted a full briefing. He’d spent very little time in her chambers, which was good. Despite his valorous conduct and reputation, the queen’s presence intimidated the hell out of him. Although Tirr was big for a male, the queen was almost twice his size. Her royal bloodline’s genetic markers ensured power and intelligence far beyond those of the most able-bodied females in the hives in her region. The MinSha designated a hospitable planet in rough spheres of distance as regions. Within each region lived more than fifty thousand MinSha and everyone—mercenaries, powerful leaders, and drones—reported to her, but she and her sisters were almost figureheads, leaving policy and doctrine to countless advisory castes.

  Tirr approached the outer chamber and met two of his guards. The two males acknowledged his presence but didn’t salute, as was their custom, since they were under arms. He’d been about to tell them to relax when the chamber’s inner door swung open. A large female with a diplomatic crest pinned to her chiton looked around the edge of the door, spied Tirr, and waggled her antennae.

  “Colonel Tirr, the queen will see you now,” Keshell, the queen’s chief of staff, said quietly. Like most of his brood, he’d never been in the direct service of a queen before, and the idea of being inside her chambers made his insides quiver. Males often did not survive such encounters more than once or twice in their lives. Even the sterile servants like himself. When agitated, a queen would strike fast and kill those who angered her. “Please remember to call her “Honored Queen” at all times, Tirr.”

  “I will.” Tirr bowed his head as they walked into the darkened inner chamber. Behind the door was a semicircular tunnel three meters in diameter curving gently to his left. The structure was not unlike the tunnels under the complex on Weqq where he’d ensured his station’s survivors could escape from their Human captors.

  Keshell turned her head to him. “Are you nervous? Agitated?”

  Tirr twitched his antennae. “I would not be a MinSha male, regardless of my status, if I were not nervous to meet a queen.”

  “You are wise, Colonel Tirr, and well suited to command the Queen’s Guard,” Keshell said. “Her intention is much more than acknowledgment and welcome. She has specific questions for you on your plans for the guards and what your areas of focus will be as her security commander.”

  Tirr nodded. “I am prepared to discuss those, Honored Keshell.”

  Keshell’s antennae flopped to one side. “Tirr? How long have we known each other?”

  “A lifetime,” Tirr replied. They’d attended their first schools together. While each had their destinies, there was nothing in the MinSha way that said males and females could not be friends. And as males continued to expand their small role in the MinSha society, it was more than expected. While not regarded as warriors like their female mercenary counterparts, the male—dominated security forces had proven time and again their ability to fight. “While I am your friend, Keshell, I have a place, and I must endeavor to remember that. Other species have different definitions of friendship and what those dynamics should be.”

  Keshell looked thoughtful for a moment. “I hope you will tell me more soon.”

  He stared up at her compound eyes and waggled his antennae. “I would love to.”

  Keshell put a foreclaw on his lower arm as they came to a larger, more open space. “You will do fine, Tirr. You have come far in such a short time.”

  Tirr replied simply, “Thank you.”

  Keshell stepped into the chamber while Tirr remained around the corner awaiting his introduction. He’d begun to wonder if the queen wanted to see him when he heard Keshell’s voice again. “Honored Queen Taal, I present Lieutenant Colonel Tirr of the Queen’s Guard.”


  Tirr took a quick breath and walked around the corner. The queen’s throne was simple, carved from stone, unlike the ornate and ostentatious ones he’d heard about. Keshell stood in front of the throne, looking expectantly at him. Behind her, Queen Taal sat on the throne. She was easily taller than Keshell and unlike anything he’d ever seen. Her ruby eyes followed him intently like sensors. Tirr kept his eyes focused on the top of her head, between her eyes, as he walked forward. Two meters from Keshell, he stopped and knelt.

  “Honored Queen Taal.” The words felt thick in his thorax, but he continued the traditional litany. “I present myself and the sum of my experiences to you.”

  “Well met, Lieutenant Colonel Tirr.” Queen Taal spoke with a resonance that vibrated through his chest. Her voice seemed much louder and clearer than any sound he’d ever heard in his life. The carefully-bred-down drone tendencies in him went berserk at the sound. He took a deep breath and mentally pushed them further down. Her voice was the song of a siren, and it was all he could do to focus on her words. Tirr forced his urges down with his greatest effort. As she spoke again, his efforts paid off. “You present yourself in the manner ascribed, and your experiences stretch far beyond you. Lieutenant Colonel Tirr, you are the commander of my guard and my trusted advisor. You are welcome in these chambers.”

  Tirr couldn’t help but sigh with relief. He’d heard too many stories of queens who could sense discomfort in the sterile and killed them before they’d barely spoken their lines. He stood and looked into her eyes for the first time, expecting to see something from a dream state. Instead, he saw her as a larger, powerful female with deeper-colored eyes, and that was all. “Thank you, Honored Queen Taal.”

  She nodded. “Keshell has spoken highly of you, as has Honored Queen Sekha from your prior region. Her recommendation for your immediate promotion spoke volumes about you before you’d even arrived.”