The Lost Aria (Earth Song Book 3) Read online

  The Lost Aria

  Earth Song,

  Volume 3

  © Copyright 2014, Mark Wandrey

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

  First edition printed 2014

  SBN-13: 978-1479225002

  For additional details on this series, visit http://www.worldmaker.us

  Or on Facebook

  https://www.facebook.com/groups/261356770561581/

  This book is a work of fiction and as such springs forth entirely from my mind. Any resemblance between people living or dead is purely coincidental or with that persons foolish permission. The opinions and situation put forth here are also those of the author and do not reflect upon, or are necessarily shared by the publisher or any distributor of the book.

  Cover art by Digital Donna ([email protected])

  To my dedicated editorial staff, LN Burns, Tony Sullivan, and Mary Chris Waller, my great thanks. And to my head editor, Robert Boyer. Thank you for the boundless patience as you translated this into something that more closely resembles English.

  To my wife and son, everything.

  Prologue

  April 2nd, 520 AE

  Private Conference Room, Capital City, Planet Nexus

  Tak'la, supreme leader of the Rasa skittered down the hallway towards a meeting he wished didn’t have to take place. In the vast Concordia the Rasa were distant third rate players, some would even suggest fourth rate. Ever since Tak'la killed Ko'kra, his incompetent predecessor, he'd striven to move his species forward into distinction. As he walked he hissed and spat curses to the fates that stymied his efforts.

  Two years ago they were working for the T'Chillen, a powerful species of the highest order which often employed lower species. The snake-like T'Chillen preferred employing their fellow reptilian species, such as the Rasa. Tak'la secretly detested the T'Chillen, a prejudice his people held against reptilians without legs. But power was everything in the Concordia, and the Rasa specialized in following others to power. So they'd done jobs for the T'Chillen, often without regard for the legality or morality. While transporting a large cache of high tech weaponry, a Rasa team was ambushed. Most of them were killed, and the goods seized. The species which made the attack were known as Humans, and they were subjects of the Tog, another higher order species. You couldn't just attack them with impunity. Still, the laws of the Concordia allowed for ways of punishing even perceived offenses. You just needed an excuse.

  Some months later the humans slaughtered a colony of Rasa squatting on an unauthorized world. The Rasa requested and were granted by the Concordian War Council a Vendetta, a mini-war against the humans. Ko'kra led them during that Vendetta. The devilishly resourceful humans completely defeated the Rasa troops, and the humiliating defeat allowed Tak'la to violently take the leadership.

  For Tak'la, none of this was a problem. It was the aftermath of the failed Vendetta that was the problem. It infuriated him even more because the prosecution of the Vendetta was not his doing. Now the T'Chillen refused to deal with them, as did any other higher order species offering the sort of work the Rasa preferred. All except one, that is.

  Tak'la reached the end of the hall and entered the meeting room, immediately assuming the posture of respect, knees on the floor, immobile lips centimeters from the floor as well. “We of the Rasa thank you for coming,” he hissed through his translator.

  “We will hear your plea,” the reply comes quickly. The voice could not be more different than his own, so full of volume and resonance. Tak'la rose to his feet and faced the Tanam where it stood with another of its kind. The felinoid was a full two meters tall even considering its somewhat slouched posture, standing bipedal on two limbs while two arms hung at their sides. Everything about the beings spoke of barely contained power. Ten centimeter retractable claws tipped all four limbs, and canine fangs long enough to protrude below the jaw proclaimed this being as a climax predator of unmeasured ability. While the Rasa evolved as predators on a primarily reptilian world they were ambush hunters and opportunists. The Tanam caused a deep feeling of fear to run along his spine. He knew they hunted by running down, battling, and tearing their foes limb from limb. Tak'la felt a moment of panic and considered just running for his life. “Speak!” the Tanam ordered, and he did.

  “We have asked you here to offer an alliance between our species.”

  The Tanam snorted, a deep almost subsonic sound, and regarded him even closer than before. The other one, though of similar build, remained aloof and without comment. Their ears were large and mobile, able to detect sound from any direction, and were pierced by a variety of bejeweled ornaments. The one who remained silent had more ornate decorations. A superior? The first one spoke again. “We know of an offer, as does every other high order species in the Concordia.” It took a step closer and Tak'la fought to stand his ground. “It speaks of fear and desperation after your defeat.” The other one issued a low rumbling growl.

  Tak'la shivered, his resolve barely holding. “What we offer is not without merit.”

  “Then speak of this offer.”

  “First may I state what we wish from this alliance?”

  “If you desire.”

  “Very well… We want these human creatures destroyed, utterly annihilated.”

  The Tanam chuffed and shook its head, a gesture Tak'la could not guess at the meaning of. “We have met these humans and tasted their flesh. While hominids are rare, these are no different than any other chattering primates we've encountered in the past. Timid, feckless children of a species with a dubious claim on the mantle of higher order. Deal with them yourselves.”

  “We cannot. Our claim of Vendetta expired, and the council deemed not to give us another attempt at redemption.”

  “Again, this is none of our concern.”

  The other spoke for the first time, its voice even lower and more difficult to listen to while suppressing his fear. “We have always thought it wise to allow the lesser species to settle their own squabbles. We find it less desirable to meddle in your prattling than the Mok-Tok, and don't have such a taste for carnage as the T'Chillen. Still, I'm sure the council could be encouraged to hear your pleas, with the proper amounts and types of incentives.”

  “We have exhausted our supplies of capital in such matters. The first Vendetta left us severely depleted in war materials, and our prestige badly damaged.”

  The first one snorted. “No doubt… A disgraceful showing.”

  “These humans are more than they appear,” Tak'la said, pressing quickly on. “They show remarkable tenacity in combat, and an almost cruel inventiveness in developing weapons never seen before in the Concordia.”

  “Ludicrous,” said the first. The second just snorted again. “If you are as impoverished as you claim, then what could you possibly offer us as enticement? To get at the humans we would need to first orphan them.”

  “Are the Tog any great challenge to the mighty Tanam?”

  “Do not patronize us,” the second one said in a deep dangerous growl.

  “I would never dream of that, noble one. But would not the fall of the Tog be reward in itself to compensate you for the cleansing of the humans?”

  “Perhaps, were you to offer us that destruction? Instead you would have us do the task ourselves, work for our own reward as it were. The Tog have adequate defenses, more than enough resources to call upon mercenaries to their aid should a protracted war be underway, and many allies on the Concordia Council. Even these humans would be of som
e modest help in defending their interests.”

  “And what if we were able to hand you an easy victory?”

  “You cannot handle the infant humans! What makes you think you can defeat their patrons, a higher order species eons more mature than you? We’ve wished them out of the way as far back as our history goes, and they persevere. Obnoxious grass eaters they might be, they are tough grass eaters.”

  “It is true that we are younger and less powerful than either you or the Tog, but what we lack in might, we more than make up for in shrewdness and creativity.” The Tanam just stared at him. “If we are able to hand the Tog to you, make success all but guaranteed, would you agree to the second part of our deal?”

  The first Tanam looked at the second for assurance, confirming Tak'la's guess that the second was of higher rank. The barest of nods and the first turned back to him. “Yes. I see little chance such a thing can be done, so no risk is being assumed on our part.”

  “Very well,” Tak'la said and reached into a pouch hanging from his waist. Those deadly eyes watched his every move, almost hoping he would produce a weapon. Tak'la placed a single crystalline rod on the table between them, less than half a meter long with Concordian script running its length. The entire thing glowed slightly from an inner light. Concordia script slowly crawled around its width and length in ever changing patterns.

  “That cannot be.” the second one said, pushing past the lower ranking Tanam and carefully examining the device, “one has not been seen in many lifetimes.”

  “As I said, we are resourceful. Two more are included in the offer.”

  “Three?” The first Tanam exclaimed and looked at the second.

  Tak'la didn't have to be a Tanam to see the look of greed that flowed between the two like an electrical charge. It tore him in half to offer almost all of the devices they'd found, an incredibly rare and valuable thing to a higher order species, a treasure beyond measure to the Rasa. Many months of negotiations and deals within the Concordia’s innumerable houses and clans gave him confidence that the fall of the Tog was worth anything he could pay.

  “Do we have a deal then?” The two Tanam tore their eyes away from the glowing rod to look at him. One glance at their expressions and he knew the answer. “One now, the other two when it is done.”

  Part I

  The art of war is of vital importance to the state.

  -Sun Tzu

  Chapter 1

  April 5th, 520 AE

  Fort Jovich

  Fort Jovich stood huge and proud near the end of a jetty of land jutting out into the Equatorial Sea. Hundreds of meters below, massive waves pounded the ancient lava flow which made the jetty, the waves driven from the massive tidal power of the world’s twin moons, Romulus and Remus. Early explorers commented that the planets lack of major oceans was a blessing, not a curse. Try to imagine, they'd said, the two moon's tidal forces brought to bear on oceans the like those from old Earth. Those waves would likely have been a kilometer high, instead of Bellatrix’s fifty to one hundred meters at worst. Regardless, long dead surfers from old Earth would have swooned in barely controlled lust over the breakers. The sport never caught on here, for reasons Darwin would have understood perfectly well.

  Late in the rainy season, gale force winds pounded the dualloy battlements. Near the top of the eastern corner of the fort a huge moliplas window overlooked the sea below. The molecularly aligned polymer steadily resisted the wind’s assault, and would do so for centuries to come. Minu stood at the window watching the storm spend its fury against the man made structure, ceaselessly pounding hour after hour. Sometimes the rain was even hard enough to hear through the five centimeter shield. She knew from the engineering study that the structure had an anticipated lifespan of four thousand years. In the end, it wouldn't be the dualloy or moliplas that would succumb; it would be the very land the fort was built on. Pilings were dug deep into the bedrock for two hundred meters down, and still, she knew that in only a few thousand years those pilings would be exposed by the merciless forces of erosions. The entire fort would one day tumble into the ocean to roll down into the abyssal trench just below where she stood. The subduction zone there would grind up and melt what survived. Somehow, that gave her comfort, knowing that even the much vaunted Concordian technology was no match for the supreme powers of nature. This location was chosen for multiple reasons, Defensibility was chief among them. With the sea at its back, the fort was a redoubt that was easy to defend, and almost impossible to assault.

  Fort Jovich appeared complete to many, yet inside much of it was still under construction. Vast areas were nothing more than open beams and supports, ducts incomplete and wiring hanging like severed veins. It was a completed structure, tough, proof against the weather or attack for those inside. They'd finished it just in time to avoid the stormy season. “Is there a time when this place isn’t stormy?” Minu wondered during principal construction. Work continued inside at a steady pace, and that included training.

  Leaving her office behind, she went outside and down the hallway. At the end was a T leading to the left and right while straight ahead was the largest open area of the huge fort. Five hundred meters long, two hundred wide, and a hundred tall, the primary training field was spread out below her as if she sat in a press box of a massive sports stadium. From far below the sounds of drilling and exercise drifted up to her. She leaned on the safety rail and watched the work. A thousand newly trained soldiers drilled nearly every day. They ran, jumped, and exerted themselves while being yelled at by Chosen from the training branch. Though impossible to tell from this height, she knew seventy nine of them were women. A smile cut the smooth lines of her face as she thought of that. Only half of the women who'd went into the special soldiers trials passed. Still, it was a start worthy of a smile. She'd met many of them, and they were a tough, hard looking, steely eyed crowd. Soldiers weren't cut in the same broad mold as the Chosen. Their profession was much more specific. She thought of the Chosen as a hand held whipsaw. Slow to use, gentle, flexible, and able to handle any task. Use it too hard and it could break, or wear out forever. Her new soldiers were a chain saw, direct, to the point, and completely lacking in subtlety. They’d chew through whatever you put in front of them and feel fine afterwards.

  Minu expressed displeasure initially at the small number of women. It was her friend, Cherise, who changed her mood. “Three years ago, when we came through the trials together, being made Chosen increased the number of female Chosen by ten percent! There have never been more than twenty women in the Chosen.”

  “But is that on purpose?” Minu wondered.

  “Who cares? Thanks to you, now there are seventy nine new females in the ranks.”

  “Only soldiers, not full Chosen.”

  “The special trials are coming up to replace the hundreds we lost in the Rasa vendetta last year.”

  “I know that, Cherise.”

  “Did you know that the number of girls taking the first level written test is triple the record number?” Her dark skinned friend knew Minu hadn't, by the look on her face. “That's what I thought. The success of those women below, and your own in no small part, has caused a change to begin in our society. In another year there could be dozens more female Chosen!”

  “That change is long overdue.”

  Of course Cherise knew that, what woman in the elite Chosen didn't know? She watched the soldiers practice and shrugged. Change was coming all right. Two thousand soldiers would eventually be stationed in this fort, more than all the Chosen to serve in its history. Fewer than a hundred of those had been women. Cherise was right, of course. It was a good start.

  "Commander Minu, may we speak?" Minu turned from the railing at the hissing speech. She'd been so deep in her reflection she hadn't noticed her visitor. Var'at was standing a respectful distance away; the pendant translator Minu always wore round her neck was faithfully translating his words into English.

  "For the Rasa commander, and my friend, a
ny time," she said and gestured towards her office. A moment later the door slid closed and they were alone. "What can I do for you today?"

  “I believe training comes along well.”

  “I agree!”

  “You humans are fast to learn, and physically resilient. While I believe my own species tougher in basic build, your own has better endurance and raw strength. You are also more tolerant of temperature extremes, a trait I find amazing.”

  “An excellent assessment,” Minu said Var'at's jaws snapped twice, his version of a smile. “It is part of the reason I believed we would be good allies. We complement each other.”

  “We were left with little choice,” Var'at reminded her, “after our defeat in the Vendetta; our leaders did not want us back. If you had not offered us a home...”

  “Their own short sightedness, in my opinion.”

  “I wish we had never met on that world when you stole our cache of beamcasters, but at least it resulted in our friendship.”

  “Agreed,” Minu said and poured some drinks. Mead for herself, fruit juice for him. Var'at tasted the concoction and smacked his immobile lips with pleasure.

  “Not bad,” he hissed.

  “I'm sure you didn't come for a drink,” she prompted.

  "I wanted to discuss the living arrangements."

  "Is there a problem? If you need more space I'm sure something can be done?"

  "No, no, your people are most generous. Our settlement in the hills here is quite nice. A little cool, but pleasurably moist.” Moist? Minu wondered what he would consider wet. “We are very grateful for all you have done. In taking in your former enemies you have done an amazing thing no one would have expected."

  "It is how we humans are."

  "Again, our thanks."

  "Okay, so what do you need?"