Loria Read online

  “Not so hard, my Darling! We can hug each other for the rest of our lives.”

  It’s not so certain, he reflected grimly. There’s a risk that we’ll soon be visited by guests who haven’t come on a courtesy call.

  CHAPTER 2

  In the early dawn hours, the Olegian ships floated down, like enormous shining dragonflies with long antennae, down through the dark black of night, increasingly spreading death and destruction as they approached the targets of their attack. The attack, in most respects, went as the Olegians had planned, so that most of the planet’s territory could be conquered, except for the country of Sidian. This setback was like a cold shower for the council, which presumed that the cause was a combination of bad luck and an unusually efficient Sidian intelligence service. With the country’s defence facilities and troops intact, it was now going to take a long time to attain victory. That their failure could be explained by treason within their own forces was something that would never have crossed their minds, since a Straal agent never swerved from duty. Expressing the very suggestion of such a claim would be the equivalent of signing one’s own death warrant.

  When the news of the Olegian attack arrived, Lidia wanted to return to Leskar immediately. It was only after a certain amount of effort that Hug managed to convince her that it was probably better to wait and see what happened first, before they did anything too hasty. As reports from the war streamed in and it became apparent that it would have been close to impossible to cross the lines of defence, they decided instead to remain in Oboe and offered their services to the air defence forces.

  The result of the war was that Sidian, which in most ways had been a prominent country, returned to a state reminiscent of the pre-Pirian era, when civil technology was an unknown concept. Factories that had produced goods for the large population were now forced to shift to military production and all telecommunications were silenced completely. The cause of this silence was not only the fact that most of the power grid had been knocked out, but that the Sidian command wanted to avoid any chance of eavesdropping and revealing their troop positions. Instead, the military had to be content with relying on couriers, while contacting relatives and friends in different parts of the country was now only a fading memory.

  As the war proceeded, the balance of forces began to lean increasingly in favour of the Olegians, which in the end forced the Sidians to resort to tactical nuclear weapons. This was a choice that unavoidably led to radioactive contamination of large areas of land and for a long time to come, but, when having to choose between two evils, one of course normally chooses the lesser of them.

  In the year 3420, after the birth of the prophet, Populus, large portions of the Sidian forces were shattered and in a difficult, if not hopeless, situation. Violent and deadly Olegian rocket attacks from the air and from mobile armoured units mercilessly hammered a 900-kilometre-long section of the front, which was at risk of breaking apart at any time. Only the 8th and 3rd armies, under Supreme Commander Pol-Tex, could continue to offer any obstacle to the enemy’s attempts to capture the capital.

  With the 7th battalion, stationed about a hundred kilometres to the west of Oboe, Gunner Kark had her hands tightly gripped on the trigger of her mobile laser cannon. For the last two days, she had been on almost uninterrupted duty, and the only thing that continued to keep her going was her sense of duty and a feverish fear that permeated her entire body. Reason told her, on the other hand, that she should get as far away as possible, somewhere where the rumble of battle along the front couldn’t be heard any more. A monotonously repeating warning signal that signalled that a new attack was in-coming interrupted her thoughts, and only a few seconds later a red blip had appeared on her screen. As soon as the sights had locked into the red signal she took a reading and pressed the firing button; the gun truck shook as the anti-missile missile was launched, rising in a steep path towards the indicated target. Hardly had she managed to recover than three more blips, which marked more missiles, popped up. The only way to deal with this, she thought, as she felt panic rising and her palms sweating, was to work methodically, so she released yet another missile that went shooting on its way. Just as she was trying to locate the next target, there was a brilliant flash, so that the next thing she knew she was coming to and looking up at the green roof of a tent, which she then realized meant that she had been taken to a field hospital.

  “Try to lie still,” said a young blonde nurse who was sitting near her bed and monitoring her.

  “Where am I?” she asked with a groan, as a pulsing pain shot through her skull.

  “I need help,” shouted the nurse. “We’ve got a patient here who’s just coming out of anaesthesia.”

  “Ah, Gunner Kark,” said an older doctor who came rushing over. “It seems to be pretty heavy at the front, getting worse every day. Unfortunately, we have to anaesthetise you a bit longer.”

  “No,” she cried, frightened, and lamely tried to protest by holding up her arms.

  “It’s for your own sake,” said the nurse, as she slipped in the needle into her right arm. “For now, rest is the best medicine for you.”

  The next time she woke, the pain had disappeared and the only thing she heard was someone breathing and asleep in the bed across from her. The room was dark and it felt wonderfully cool and fresh. When she slowly raised herself, she saw how a breeze blew through a half-open window and rippled the curtains in soft waves. She could just see a coal-black sky glittering with stars, and before she fell back to sleep she felt a calmness and sense of security that she hadn’t experienced in ages.

  Two weeks later, her head bandages were removed and she was allowed to be up for short periods. One of the nurses told her that the laser cannon had had an almost direct hit, and that the operation, to remove the grenade shrapnel that had lodged in the back of her skull, had been extremely complicated and taken almost twelve hours. As the days went by, she improved steadily, so that if her recuperation continued at the same pace she would soon be forced to return to her unit.

  The army’s plans for her came to a sudden end one day, however, when she had gone out for a long walk and heard the sounds of strong explosions. As she carefully snuck back, she stopped to peer through some dense bushes, only to see the hospital building ablaze, the sky above them filled with black smoke. The only visible living creatures were Olegian soldiers who had landed their ships in the surrounding green meadows and now, weapons in hand, were rapidly surrounding the hospital grounds. After standing, frozen in place for several minutes, to stare in horror at the terrifying scene, she ran in panic through the dense woods to escape the danger that awaited her. Even though she was at the edge of collapse, she struggled through the forest, holding up her hands in front of her face as protection against the branches that constantly whipped at her face. When finally, at dusk, she was too exhausted to continue, she collapsed like a limp rag, without any idea of where she was. The only thing she knew was that a night in the open, in a large field of fragrant roses, was what lay ahead of her.

  Oboe, the capital city, lay in a broad valley, surrounded by a cluster of suburbs, resembling the rings of an old tree stump. The city was the site of state functions as well as the imperial families and so far, thanks to its having the highest priority for the Sidians’ defence planning, had avoided invasion. Because of the crowds of refugees that steadily flowed into the city, its population had nearly doubled. Hordes of injured awaited attention, disease was running rampant throughout the outskirts, while the distant thunder of cannons increased the air of desperation ever more. Most people were becoming painfully aware that the complete collapse of the city was near, but since it was widely known that the Olegians killed everyone in the areas they invaded, there was no one who even considered giving up. If they couldn’t win, most reasoned, then they would make themselves as costly a prize as possible, so as every day passed, the city’s walls and defences were reinforced, through the labour of hundreds of thousands of volunteers.


  In the city centre, it was still relatively calm, however; in the famous old Cirianel Square, yellow buntings and finches twittered in the more than hundred-year-old Triaria tree, while lovesick teenagers sat cuddling on the benches beneath its branches. The air was laced with the evocative fragrances of all the city’s parks, overflowing with every kind of flower, and the evening was so wonderful that it almost hurt in every cell of one’s body just to be there. On the north side of the square was the Red Corner Restaurant, its gas lanterns swaying in the early summer breeze, while the buzz and babble that could be heard behind the tinted leaded windows was even louder every time the door was opened as guests went in or out.

  In a sheltered corner of the restaurant, four men sat embroiled in a lively discussion. One of them was Captain Shay Ostender, commander of one of the thirty-nine battleships that made up the city guard’s air corps. He was relatively young, twenty-six, with blue eyes and dark hair, at the same time as his entire personality contained a decisiveness and will that one can usually see even in children that are destined to lead. The others in the party were the ship’s flight navigator, Esai Donovan, fire coordinator Caver Larkes, and flight engineer Ixter Trafor.

  “The fortunes of war have without a doubt turned in favour of the Olegians,” said Shay, as he spun his officer’s cap distractedly on the table before him.

  “But the Supreme Commander claims that we have had some major victories and can soon turn the war around,” said Caver.

  “Usually, everything is permitted in war, he answered, even propaganda lies that have the only purpose of keeping people calm and, if possible, instil courage in war-weary and demoralized troops. All the reports that I have seen, though, are unanimous in stating that a breakthrough is close at hand.”

  After taking another draught of the dark, frothy beet that the eatery was famous for, he continued in a lower tone. “Believe me, the Olegians may already be here in one or two weeks.”

  “It just seems so unreal,” said Ixter. “What happens then?”

  “Who knows,” said Esai, with a dark look, “And maybe one shouldn’t worry oneself too much about that when there’s enough to think about with over ten million desperate refugees in tent camps. There’s lots of problems that are going to get worse real soon, even catastrophic, like when those refugees are going to start moving in to the city centre.”

  “So true,” said Caver, dejectedly, “There’s enough trouble every day. The last that I heard from my family, in Trojar, before communications were broken, was over two months ago.”

  “I also don’t know what’s happened to my family,” said Shay, “And no-one knows how this war is going to end. The only thing that’s certain is that, when the Olegians finally make it to Oboe, that will be the decisive battle. After that, the only remaining possibility to escape them will be to travel to the colony on planet Urduk, which is probably only possible for a few.”

  “And those few maybe don’t include so many from all walks of society?” asked Ixter.

  “That guess is probably not wrong.”

  “So, it’s just to grit one’s teeth,” muttered Caver, drinking the last of his beer.

  “I guess so, unless you guys have a better suggestion.”

  They became silent while the chubby waiter waddled over from the bar to clear their table and serve some fresh jugs of beer.

  “Can you tell me, Shay, you who are so religious,” asked Caver, once the waiter had receded, “why God allows such injustices?”

  “I actually don’t think that God does, but rather that it’s the creatures that populate the universe that are themselves responsible for their evil and that someday will have to stand judgement for their deeds.”

  “Now we’re really getting into philosophy,” laughed Ixter.

  “Why not? If humanity doesn’t try to develop and raise its spiritual awareness, then we’re not much better than amoebas that just eat and reproduce.”

  “Yes, but first we have to try to solve the problem of how to defeat the Olegians, if we are going to have any chance at all of surviving.”

  “Of course, I can only agree with you.”

  “Maybe they can’t be stopped by anything else than nuclear weapons,” said Esai.

  “Apparently those have already been used, but unfortunately only slows them temporarily. There technology is completely superior to ours, and while they can constantly replenish their armies, we have no reserves who can replace those who have been lost.”

  “They’re like desert ants,” said Ixter, “Who just keep moving forward until they’ve reached their goal.”

  “More like an ulcer,” muttered Caver.

  A half-hour later, after a lively discussion of the best way to kill Olegians, they left the restaurant and strolled through Hitax, the old part of town, with its jumble of picturesque houses and narrow, winding, cobblestoned lanes.

  Caver, the oldest crewmember, all of 32 years, was also the one with the most time in service. He was heavily built, with ash-blonde hair, blue eyes, and a jutting jaw that was often covered by light stubble. Despite his build, there was still something pitiable about him, almost like a stray child, which many women, with their inherent strength, found very appealing. After his training, he was posted to the imperial navy’s main force, where he found it difficult to adjust to military discipline, which he felt was both ridiculous and unnecessary. To his pragmatic and logical mind, the primary goal should be to accomplish one’s duties, and everything else was just nonsense and hypocrisy. This defiance unavoidably led to one conflict after another with his superiors, so that after several transfers he was finally deported to the city guard’s forces, where he landed under Shay’s command. Shay, who was an understanding and down-to-earth man, decided nevertheless to accept his slightly odd personality and thereby established a fruitful and successful relationship. Caver certainly had a strong ego and a particular way that was often awkward, but at the same time it turned out that he had an unquestioning loyalty to Shay, and was the kind of person who usually got things done, which Shay put great stock in.

  Twenty-eight-year-old Esai was his direct opposite, and always created the impression that he was energetic, positive, and devoted to his duties. He had a powerfully intelligent face, straw-coloured hair, deep-set grey eyes, an aristocratic nose and a distinctive air, which indicated both drive and decisiveness. In his position as pilot and navigator he functioned as Shay’s right-hand man and, in contrast to Caver, had nothing against military discipline and following rules, something he considered both necessary and obvious. Usually he had a cool professional attitude to his duties and, even if he didn’t like something he was ordered to do, he carried it out without any grumbling nor losing his temper. His ending up in the city guard wasn’t so much an active choice, but a pure coincidence, since a relative had recommended him. When not on duty he usually spent much of his free time studying manuals and instructions.

  Ixter, who came from one of the more well-known noble families, was the youngest in the crew, only twenty-four, but by no means inexperienced. He had bushy light hair, intensive blue eyes, and a constantly playful smile on his lips. To call him handsome was not an exaggeration, so that with his economic resources, intelligence, and warm personality he was irresistible for many women, a “mother-in-law’s dream.” When he’d finished his studies at Oboe’s foremost officers’ college, cupid struck, in the form of a beautiful, dark curly-haired woman from the Tyrus Mountains. Since she was a commoner, s Sidian officer such as he was not allowed to marry her, so when he had confirmed his resolve by marrying her, he had been demoted to the rank of ship’s engineer. He accepted this with equanimity, declaring that everything had its price, especially love.

  Once out on the main street, Sirriada, and had wished each other goodnight, Caver and Esai returned to the airbase, where they had their rooms, while Shay continued on to his apartment in the upper part of the city. Ixter, who lived nearby, felt a warm glow as he approached his building a
nd discovered that one of the windows was lit, which meant that his wife, Gail, was still up and waiting for him.

  As soon as he came through the door, he brushed his teeth and put on his pyjamas and laid down beside her on the bed, where she lay stretched out in her lemon-yellow Taurian silk robe.

  “Hello, my darling, what’s the weight on your shoulders?” she asked and caressed his cheek.

  “Nothing,” he answered.

  “Oh, come on. I can see that something’s up. Have you heard anything about the Olegians?”

  “I don’t want to worry you,” he said, drumming his fingers absent-mindedly on the quilt.

  “Stop it!” she hissed, irritated. “Don’t you think I understand that the war isn’t going well, with all the refugees arriving every day and war alerts that increase with every day. I don’t want to live with lies any longer, so now, dammit, you had better tell me the truth, however painful it might be.”

  “OK, I’d thought I’d wait as long as possible before telling you, to spare you from worrying, but, as you like.”

  So, he began to tell her about the devastating losses the armies had suffered and that soon the Olegians would be in a position to break through the weakened lines and thrust their forces towards Oboe. Before her ever more astonished eyes he concluded by saying that the situation was so bad that an attack might happen already within the coming weeks, which was why the city guard’s fleet had received orders to remain in a constant state of high alert. When he stopped, he saw that she was so sad that his heart was close to breaking.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked her, kissing her on the cheek.

  “That you’ll be going to war, that we haven’t had a chance to live our lives, and that we’re never going to be able to watch our children growing up. It’s so unfair. I hate those damned Olegians and if I only could I’d kill them all!” she sniffed.