Cry Havoc

Cry Havoc

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Blurb

Simmering tensions boil over as the Ragnosians attack the colony world of Alios, beginning a war with Leyria.

Jack, Anna and Melissa must defend a planet full of civilians from a hostile invasion force. Meanwhile, Slade's origins are revealed, as he hatches his plan to assassinate the Prime Council. A plan that will irrevocably change the political landscape of many worlds.

The Overseers will soon move their final pieces into position... And the galaxy will never be the same again.

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Prologue-1
PROLOGUE (195 BCE)Dying felt very much like going to sleep. Waking up, however, was much less pleasant. The first moment of awareness, the first thing that might be considered a genuine thought, was the realization that he was floating. Floating someplace warm. It was almost relaxing until he realized that every last inch of him was submerged. Was that a problem? Something told him that it was a problem. He suddenly remembered that he had to breathe. The liquid. It would get into his lungs, choke him. Frantically, he struggled for the surface only to discover that he felt no burning in his chest. His head broke through, trails of slime dripping from his chin. Some of it got into his eyes, but thankfully, it didn't hurt. His face. He pawed at his face. He could not say why, but he knew with absolute certainty that this was not his face. Coughing and sputtering, he flailed until he reached the edge of this strange pool. His hands grabbed the rock, and then he immediately retracted them. It wasn't rock at all. It was warm and soft…like flesh. With a gaping mouth, he looked up to blink at his surroundings. “Where?” A voice spoke. Not his. “Where am I?” He crawled onto the shore at the edge of the lake of slime, his head hanging. Long, dark hair, thick with sludge, dangled and trailed along the floor. “Where am I?” he asked. “Who has done this?” It all came back to him. Gao. That was his name. One of many. He had been born Liu Bang, the son of a peasant from Pei County. He had been a soldier, a husband and an Emperor. His people needed him. “Why have you done this to me?” “Calm yourself, my son.” An Old Woman stood at the edge of the pool, a crone with a face like leather and thinning gray hair. She wore simple country clothes and sandals on her feet. “Be at ease. All will be well.” He looked up at her, narrowing his eyes, and felt a flush of anger burning his face. “You!” Struggling to his feet, he tried to seize the woman. She was gone before he got within two feet of her. “We mean you no harm, my son.” When he turned, she was there again, at the very edge of the pool, close enough to dip a toe in the slime. “You are to be our emissary,” she said. “One who will guide your people to greatness.” Baring his teeth, Gao hissed at her. “You were there!” he growled, striding toward her. “On the roadside! You set all of this in motion!” The Old Woman looked up at him, and her mouth cracked into an almost-toothless grin. “We recognized your potential even then,” she said. “You were meant for glory, my son. You have not yet achieved a tenth of your true purpose.” “I have to return to my people.” “They will not know you. Not as you are.” She poked a finger into his chest, and he stumbled backward at her touch. “That life is over. It is time for you to embrace your next challenge.” Gao ran hands over his body. Hard, sculpted muscle greeted his fingertips, smooth without a single strand of hair. He felt his face and found it nothing like the one that he remembered. His cheeks were gaunt, almost hollow; his chin was pointed. He had no beard, but long, black hair fell to the small of his back. He was a young man again, filled with a vigour he had all but forgotten. “Who are you?” The Old Woman closed her eyes, breathing deeply. “Your people have no name for us,” she said. “And you must tell no one of our existence until we deem them ready to possess such knowledge.” “Return me to my people.” “As you wish.” She gestured to a tunnel in the cavern wall. With faltering steps, he followed it, soft flesh squishing beneath his bare feet. The walls seemed to glow with a reddish light. Just enough for him to see clearly. The tunnel curved slightly to the left, and when he went around the bend, the Old Woman was standing before him again. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor, on a pile of clothes that she had gathered there. “You will not get far as a naked man.” Once he dressed, she guided him through a smaller tunnel that branched off from the main one. At the end of it, he found an empty chamber with nothing on the walls or floor or ceiling. He forced his eyes shut, stiffening, and then took a hesitant step forward. “What is this place?” He turned, but the doorway in the wall sealed itself up, flesh knitting together so perfectly you would have never known there was a gap. So, they planned to trap him? He would have protested, but the floor writhed, and when he spun around, a lump was rising with a slimy sound. It split to form both arms of an upward-pointed triangle. He approached with caution. A bubble formed around his body, distorting the light. He cried out in shock, but his momentary outburst was nothing compared to the scream that ripped its way out of his mouth when he began to fly through an endless tunnel of blackness. Moments later, he arrived at what appeared to be a grassy field under a blue sky with just a few clouds. It was hard to tell. Peering through the bubble's surface was like trying to see through a curtain of falling water. “What sort of devilry…” The bubble popped. He was in a field, a field of tall grass that reached almost to his knees, the stalks around him flattened by his arrival. Quickly, he turned around and found another triangle like the one in the other place. He reached out with a tentative hand, but brown flesh became gray, and the triangle collapsed into a pile of ash. What sort of creatures were these? Not spirits, he thought. But what? Beings able to bend flesh to their will. They had given him a new body, but he was still himself, so far as he could tell. His mind remained intact. Sinking to his knees in the grass, he shuddered as he drew in a breath. “They have restored me to life for a reason.” He looked up and felt his eyes widen. “Ying is not yet ready. That is why.” Mountains rose up before him. He knew this place; the Old Woman had brought him to a spot not far from Chang'an. He could be home within a few hours if he ran. Perhaps it was time to put these young legs to work. The walls of the city stood tall and proud under the harsh light of the noonday sun. The moat sparkled as if someone had strewn a thousand diamonds across the dark water. With summer nearing its peak, it was warm. People flowed across the bridge toward the gate, some on foot, one or two leading horses. Soldiers in iron lamellar stood on either side of the opening, casting glances at everyone who passed. Gao walked with his head down. He kept his posture demure, eyes fixed on the stones under his feet, and hoped it would avoid attention. The wind made strands of his long hair flutter. Fortunately, most of the slime had dried and flaked away. One of the guards, a hard man with a scar on his chin, looked up to sneer as Gao passed. “Strange clothing, countryman,” he growled. “Who are you? And where do you come from?” Gao froze. The Old Woman had given him garments that were little better than rags. Not even the simple yi and shan that you might see on a peasant. His clothes were not cotton or silk but rather some scratchy material that made his skin itch. And there were no rich colours. He was clad in gray from head to toe. To these men, he must have looked like a beggar or a vagabond. Perhaps that was the point. “Who are you?” the soldier said again. Lifting his chin to meet the other man's gaze, Gao narrowed his eyes. “I am your emperor,” he said. “And you will not speak to me in such-” He was down on all fours, head ringing like a struck gong, before he even realized that he had been slapped. Blood dripped from his mouth to land upon the stones. Slowly, he looked up. “How dare you-” “Be silent, countryman.” Closing his eyes, Gao hissed when he felt the point of a sword at his throat. “You must believe me,” he panted. “I am Gaozu of Han, the Unifier. Bring my wife, and I will prove my claim-” He cut off when the blade pressed a little deeper into his skin. Hard enough to draw blood. The soldier stood over him with a snarl fit for an angry dog, teeth clenched, face flushed to a deep red. “The city is in mourning after the death of the Emperor!” he spat. “You will not disgrace his memory with these lies. Speak but one more falsehood, and I will kill you, stranger.” “I am Liu Bang of Fenyu-” The soldier drew back his sword. “Have the mighty warriors of Han fallen so far?” Gao paused when he realized that a small crowd had formed, surrounding him. It was the timbre of the speaker's voice that got his attention. A woman? He looked up to find her standing just a few paces away, a tall and slender woman in a chang of bold, blazing red and a ru of white with red along the collar and the cuffs of each sleeve. Her black hair was left loose, falling almost to her waist. Her face was lovely with a thin, delicate nose and dark eyes that seemed to burn with some hidden, inner fire. “Killing beggars and madmen,” she said coldly. “Is there no better use for your sword?” “Quiet, woman,” the soldier barked. “This is no concern of yours.” She did not obey. Instead, she placed herself between Gao and the soldier, standing tall and proud as if she could stop a flood with nothing but the fury of her stare. Gao could only see the back of her head, but he realized that he would rather not be the target of that stare. “Can you not see that this man is ill? He should be cared for, not slaughtered.” “Who are you to-” “I am your emperor!” Gao shouted. That was the last thing he remembered before something thumped him across the back of his head. Everything went dark then. Perhaps he had died again. No. No, he hadn't died. He realized as much when the pain became unbearable. He felt as though the world were spinning, as if he might fall at any moment. And he might have if not for the fact that there was something soft beneath him. His vision came into focus, and he saw the woman who had come to his aid staring down at him. “He's awake,” she said. “Who are you?” “Who are you, stranger?” Gao sat up, touching his face, noting again the hollow cheeks and hairless chin that were not his. The lump on the back of his head gave him pause. “You won't believe me even if I tell you the truth.” The woman sat at his bedside with arms crossed, frowning as she considered that. “You expect me to believe that you are the dead emperor?” she asked. “Even when you look nothing like him? Even though you are decades younger than him?” A flash of pain made him wince, and he let himself fall back on the bed. “I do not expect you to believe anything,” he said. “They did this to me.” “Who did?” “The spirits, the…I don't know. I awoke in a place of darkness, trapped in this body. And they sent me here. To suffer. To see all that I have lost.” He became aware of an old man standing behind the young woman, a distinguished fellow with creases in his face and thinning gray hair. Her father? Yes, that would have to be it. “It would be unwise to continue telling your story,” he said. “They might have done far worse to you if my daughter had not intervened.” “They might have done far worse to her.” In response to that, the young woman sniffed and turned her head to stare at the wall. He suspected she wanted to look at anything but him. “I'm not afraid of a few surly guards,” she insisted. “What they did to him was wrong.” Gao expected some kind of rebuke from the old man, but none came. Instead, the fellow just put a hand on his daughter's shoulder and smiled lovingly. Old fool. No good would come from nurturing the girl's eccentricities. “I am Feng Ju,” the old man said. “My daughter, Lihua.”

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