REGIME CHANGE

  Regime Change

  Book Five of the Alorian Wars

  Drew Avera

  REGIME

  CHANGE

  BOOK FIVE OF THE ALORIAN WARS

  DREW AVERA

  www.drewavera.com

  All rights reserved by Drew Avera 2018.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  The Alorian Wars

  1. Gen-Taiku

  2. Brendle

  3. Crase

  4. Ilium

  5. Gen-Taiku

  6. Brendle

  7. Crase

  8. Brendle

  9. Gen-Taiku

  10. Brendle

  11. Ilium

  12. Crase

  13. Gen-Taiku

  14. Brendle

  15. Ilium

  16. Crase

  17. Gen-Taiku

  18. Brendle

  19. Ilium

  20. Gen-Taiku

  21. Brendle

  22. Ilium

  23. Crase

  24. Gen-Taiku

  25. Brendle

  26. Ilium

  27. Crase

  28. Gen-Taiku

  29. Brendle

  30. Ilium

  31. Crase

  32. Gen-Taiku

  33. Brendle

  34. Ilium

  35. Crase

  36. Gen-Taiku

  37. Brendle

  38. Crase

  Epilogue

  From the Author

  Also by Drew Avera

  The Alorian Wars

  Deadly Refuge

  Mutiny Rising

  Shadow Empire

  Regime Change

  Darker Waters (2018)

  Orbital Decay (Prequel)

  One

  Gen-Taiku

  The chirps and chimes of a near-sleeping warship flooded her ears as she crept onboard. Like most ships of her class, the Replicade bore a striking resemblance to those used by Pila in the recent war her people waged, and lost against the Greshian Empire. It was on a ship like this one that she watched her civilization crumble into star dust. A shaky, timid hand scrolled across the console on the bridge. The navigation monitor sprang to life, illuminating her face in pale blue light. “Where have you come from?” She whispered, despite being alone, choosing reverence to cover her crime. A three-dimensional map appeared after deliberate fingers commanded it to do so. Gen’s eyes locked onto the string of dotted lines depicted the course and she held her breath as she realized the ship had made use of several Keys to bring her to this sector. “What are you doing here?”

  More typing of commands wrought further questions; none of which appeared to have a simple explanation. The last year’s-worth of logs showed the ship’s coordinates to be near the destruction of three worlds. Less unsettling was the log for porting in Farax. What would a warship be doing in Farax when the next port was Karanta, unless of course it was smuggling under the radar of the Greshian authorities, or perhaps aiding it?

  “Can I help you?” Pilot asked, his voice booming on the small bridge, causing Gen to turn, swinging her arms forward with her weapon leveled at the hatch leading into the bridge. But no one was there.

  “Show yourself,” she snapped, backing closer to the aft bulkhead for more cover. “I swear, I will shoot you dead-to-rights if you don’t do as I say.”

  “I am the Replicade’s artificial intelligence, and you are not a member of the crew. Perhaps I should be the one doing the shooting.”

  Gen’s eyes darted from side to side as she tried to find the source of the voice. “If that’s true, prove it.”

  From the center of the bridge, a holographic image of a Luthian man appeared. He was older, gray at his temples and his skin dark in contrast. The best Gen could tell, the man was distinctly not military. “Does this prove anything?”

  Gen lowered her weapon, tucking it back into the holster beneath her tunic. “It’s more convincing than I thought you would be. What shall I call you?”

  “The crew calls me Pilot.”

  “Not very original.”

  “It is my default name.”

  “What is your mission, why are you here?”

  “That is not something I can discuss.”

  “Your crew is in danger and I need any information I can find to help me find them,” Gen said, lowering her voice to sound empathetic.

  “If that’s true, why does our travel log draw such curiosity from you? I believe you are lying to sway me to answer your questions.”

  “I was hoping to find information in your log to help me piece together your crew’s initiative for being here. Perhaps narrow down a plan that would lead them here before they were seized by the authorities.”

  Silence followed for a long moment. “Which authorities?” Pilot asked.

  Gen let out a sigh. “The Greshians.” In her mind it was more a question than an answer, but she did her best to sell it.

  “Yes, we’ve tried our best avoiding them. I did not detect a large Greshian presence on Pila, though. I find it odd the crew would be overcome when we’ve made it this far beyond the Greshian’s reach.”

  Gen paced the bridge, running her fingers along the smooth console as she familiarized herself with the controls. “Princess Herma sits at a throne high above Dorit. She is the overseer of Pila, seizing control of Pila amid an attack to preserve our people. She is not her father, but she is wholeheartedly a Greshian.”

  The holographic expression depicted on Pilot’s face turned solemn. “If this is true, what shall come of my crew?”

  “That depends on the decision they make,” Gen replied. “I have it on good authority that Princess Herma will proposition your crew to mount an attack. The problem is that such an act will break the treaty and kill the remaining Pilatians. Life is hard for the poor here on this world, but we can’t allow such an act to take place.”

  “Surely, Princess Herma would not jeopardize her own safety when she is not protected by a fleet of warships.”

  “The threat does not come from her, but her father. He has all but completely disowned her because he views her as a traitor to their people. It was at her mother’s urging that Pila be saved.”

  A long moment of silence followed. “How can we prevent this from happening and save my crew?”

  Gen fought back a smile. “If your crew returns with a mission to fire on any Pilatian targets, don’t expend a single piece of ordnance. Once the treaty is broken, Pila will be destroyed.”

  “And how do you know this?” Pilot asked as the hatch to the bridge slammed closed.

  Gen turned abruptly, her eyes wide. When she looked back at the hologram, the image was larger, a grim expression on its face. “I…”

  “I would choose my words carefully if I were you.”

  “I intercepted a transmission between Director Otero and Princess Herma,” she spat.

  “So, you’re a spy?” The question felt like an accusation, rightfully so.

  “In a way. I’m with the rebellion. We seek to overthrow Greshian influence over our world without drawing attention from the Emperor. If the Empire discovers us, we are done. Mine is a lifesaving mission and nothing more.”

  “Yet, you come on board and try to deceive me with your tall tale and expect me to defy my crew?”

  Gen swallowed hard. “No, but I did want to explain the dire situation we are facing in hopes you will not act against my people if your crew decides to obey Herma’s demands.”

  “I see. Based on your scans, I believe you are telling the truth.”

  Gen sighed as Pilot spoke. “Thank you. Now, will you let me go?”

  “No,” Pilot answered before the hologram disappeared, casting the bridge in darkness.

  “You can’t keep me here,”
Gen said, slapping her hands on the console where the hologram first appeared. “You have to let me go,” she continued with urgency in her voice. “My people are expecting me to return. If I am not back by a certain time, they will come for me. Two-dozen armed combatants will seize this ship to set me free. You don’t want these men here, trust me.”

  “That is a lie, Gen-Taiku.”

  Taken aback, she stopped speaking and stared at the face looking back at her. If hologram eyes could stare through her soul, then Pilot was doing so now, but she refused to look away, to cower from her deception. “Wait, how do you know my name? I never said who I was.” She took a step closer, glowering expectantly, demanding an answer with her steely gaze.

  Silence filled the bridge, followed by a sudden drop in temperature, and a smell. It took Gen a moment to realize what was happening, but by then it was too late. Her eyelids grew heavy and her balance waned. She reached out to brace herself on a console, lowering herself to her knees before she lost control, slamming her chin on the steel deck of the Replicade. It took a few more seconds for her to pass out, but in the meantime, she heard footsteps. Whose? She was unsure, but neither did she have the energy to be concerned as her consciousness escaped her.

  And potentially her life.

  Two

  Brendle

  Even with the tubes removed from her body, Anki looked helpless and frail. As Brendle watched the doctors and nurses take her off life-support, he clenched his fists tightly, willing her to continue breathing on her own as if the force used to tighten his grip could transfer to her in some way. His heart pounded wildly, and he could hear the rampant breathing of Deis and Malikea behind him; almost as if the two of them were panting, but he knew it was them praying.

  “Come on, Anki, you can pull through,” he whispered through his teeth. He wiped another tear from his face with the sleeve of his jacket and stood stone-faced, watching, waiting for a miracle. The hope he placed on the surgeon echoed in his mind like a chant.

  “Now, we wait,” the doctor said as he placed the last tube back onto the machine before the nurse carted it away. Two weeks past when Anki was supposed to wake up from surgery and she still had not opened her eyes. The scans still depicted normal brain activity, but she was otherwise unresponsive. Waiting proved more difficult as hope sank like a rock in Brendle’s heart.

  “We’ve been here before, doctor. What if she doesn’t come out of this?” Brendle asked, his worry painting his tone much darker than he intended.

  “Have faith, sir. We are the best medical facility in this sector. We will find a way to bring her back.”

  Brendle turned and faced Deis. “What if we waited too long to bring her here? What if the detour we took cost us more than time, but also cost us Anki?”

  “Don’t speak like that, Brendle,” Malikea said. “Have faith as the doctor said.”

  Brendle’s jaw tightened. “Faith is not something I have the luxury of,” he replied.

  Deis placed his hand on Brendle’s shoulder, but Brendle brushed it off. He didn’t mean to be rude, but the room felt like it was going to swallow him into darkness at any moment; and the torturous wait made it all the worse. “It will be all right,” Deis said, sighing behind Brendle. He’s probably offended I brushed off his gesture, Brendle thought, but couldn’t turn to apologize. He was too transfixed on Anki to give much energy to anything else.

  “Doctor, I’m noticing a spike in brain activity,” a nurse said, her eyes widening, but Brendle could not tell if it was excitement or concern.

  “Without the machines breathing for her, her brain has to take over her involuntary bodily functions. I expect the rise in brain activity to be the result of this. We need to continue to monitor her, though.”

  Way to slap an ounce of hope out of our hands, Brendle thought as he wiped at another tear. You tell us to have hope and then you snuff it out just as quickly.

  The doctor turned to Brendle. “My staff and I need to make our rounds. We’ll return shortly, but if there’s any changes to her condition, press the red button to alert us.”

  “Wait, you’re just going to leave a couple of minutes after taking her off life-support? What kind of medical care is that?” Brendle snapped. The stress of the situation caused a burning, tingling sensation to crawl down his back, a condition brought on by nerve damage incurred early in his naval career. Most days, he never experienced it, but ever since coming to Pila, it was a close to daily occurrence.

  “We have other patients, sir.”

  “And you have three nurses following you around like they’re lost. Can’t you keep one here for Anki?”

  “Each nurse has her own rounds to make. This is a large ward and we have many patients, several of them worse off than your friend,” the doctor replied dryly.

  This bastard has the emotional resonance of a stick, Brendle thought as his eyes narrowed into slits as he stared at the doctor. “Whatever, this is the worst bedside manner I’ve seen.”

  “I find that troubling coming from a Greshian,” the doctor chided as he stepped out of the room, his entourage falling in step behind him without a word. One nurse looked back with fear in her eyes, but Brendle didn’t know of whom she was afraid, but his experience on Pila led him to believe it all came back to him.

  “What a dick,” Brendle said under his breath. “What makes him think he can be so condescending to us?”

  “This world is blatantly afraid of Greshians,” Deis replied.

  Brendle spun on his heels. “Does that kind of attitude suggest a person living in fear? Would you speak like that to someone you thought would end your life? No, that’s something else. I’m not sure what word would describe it, but it’s certainly not fear.”

  “Please, calm down. The tension in this room will not evoke Anki to wake. Subliminally, it must have an effect on her,” Malikea said solemnly.

  “I’m trying to be calm, but every day is some new kick to the chest and I’m close to reaching my breaking point. Part of me wonders if Anki is being kept like this by these people calling themselves doctors.”

  “Please don’t say that?” Malikea replied.

  “Why? Because it’s not true?”

  Malikea shook his head. “No, because part of me is afraid it is true.”

  His words took Brendle back. His eyes narrowed as he faced his friend. “You think so?”

  “We’ve discussed it, and Malikea and I believe there is something going on, but we don’t dare say what.” Deis’s voice was low. His brow furrowed as he rested his chin in his hand. The fluorescent light reflected off the reddish hue of the phoenix tattooed on his bald head, making it look shiner than normal, then Brendle realized the man was sweating.

  Brendle threw up his hands, frustrated with the way things were going. “I’m worried that no matter what the situation is, that it will not get any better.”

  “It must,” Malikea said. “Anki is strong and she will come out of this. I’m sure of it.”

  “I appreciate you saying so,” Brendle said as a knock at the door caught his attention. “Come in.”

  The heavy, wooden door slowly pushed open, revealing a dainty young woman silhouetted in the pale light of the hallway. As she stepped in, Brendle realized something familiar about her. She’s a Greshian.

  “Brendle Quin? Princess Herma requests a meeting with you,” the woman said as she came into focus. Her emerald eyes were glassy in the dim light of the monitors flickering along the wall. But they were not unkind.

  “How did you find me?”

  The woman smiled. “We never lose sight of our people.”

  Brendle swallowed. “I can’t come, my girlfriend…”

  “Princess Herma is aware of your situation, but she promises she will not keep you long. In fact, this meeting may take your mind off your troubles.”

  Brendle looked at Anki, her frail looking body sleeping in its comatose state. Not even her eyes moved beneath her eyelids as they did before. She looked close
to death and that scared the shit out of him. “I need to stay.”

  The woman nodded. “I understand, but Princess Herma may not. She is not one for disrespect.”

  “Does she know I was exiled, no longer considered a Greshian? Perhaps my past is not something she is aware of. I have no claim to my birthright. And she has no claim over me, anymore.”

  “She is aware, but she wants you to earn your way back into the Emperor’s good favor.”

  Brendle felt the air suck out of the room as the tension grew. Being loyal to Greshia meant one thing, and one thing only. That his loyalty to the crew of the Replicade was void, but he would no longer be on the run. He looked to Deis and Malikea, but both turned their faces away from him. “Can I have a moment to consider it?”

  She nodded before stepping out of the room.

  Silence filled the empty space between him and the rest of his crew, but guilt tugged loudly on his heart. He had no idea why it meant so much to him, only that it did. “Tell me not to do it,” he said.

  Deis canted his eyes towards Brendle, his jaw tight. “What’s the point if I have to say it?” and with those words, Brendle knew the dagger of betrayal had already cut deep into his friend’s heart.

  “This could keep us from living on the run.”

  “This will break up what you considered your family. As a Greshian, you would become our enemy.”