The Chronicles of Riddick - Alan Dean Foster [104]
“Get my armada off the ground.”
The officer did not need to be told twice, nor did he think to question the inexplicable command. He had already seen what happened to someone who did. Indicating acquiescence, he took steps to issue the necessary orders.
Across the surface of Helion Prime, warships began to withdraw from sites they had been patrolling. Ongoing attacks were halted as vessel after vessel lifted and turned toward the rendezvous point near the capital. Foot soldiers raced for transports’ loading bays. Too dazed to celebrate, and worried that what they were witnessing might be nothing more than an elaborate feint, Helion’s surviving defenders were hesitant to emerge from their remaining redoubts. But their instruments marked the departure of both Necromonger ground troops and ships and their gathering in the skies above the capital. Was another massive demonstration of power to be forthcoming, or was something afoot that not even the most eclectic strategist could visualize?
In the ravaged capital itself, Necromonger officers and nobles congregated on the Basilica steps to observe the gathering of forces. While none knew the reason for the contraction, all had confidence in the decision-making ability of the Lord Marshal and his staff. Preparing some devastating surprise for the remaining stubborn resistance, no doubt. That was the general consensus.
Dame Vaako watched as columns of troops filed past the onlookers and into the Basilica itself. The flurry of activity was as puzzling as it had been unpredictable. Why were their forces withdrawing from the objective, when the final conquest of all Helion Prime loomed so near? Had the Helions unearthed some previously unsuspected deadly weapon, or been promised allies from out system? If so, she’d heard nothing of either, and there was little that escaped her notice.
So little that, as the Basilica steps themselves began to retract, her eye was caught by a profile. One profile in a sea of profiles, all rendered vague and distorted by helmets and visors.
She could have sounded a general alarm. But if she was wrong, and her admittedly slight suspicion was proven false, under the circumstances she could be charged with the serious offense of interfering with a mass evacuation. There were those within Necromonger society who would be more than happy to attend the punishment hearing that would follow. Before she said or did anything, she had to be certain that what she had glimpsed was more than just a disturbing memory impinging on a field of faces.
Forsaking her place, she drew her robes about her and hurried into the ship, moving fast as she labored to catch up to the officer she had seen. Unwilling to call for assistance until she knew for sure whether she was hallucinating or not, she was forced to push her way through the sea of soldiers and personnel that packed the Basilica’s main entrance. Where was he? In the ocean of armor, it was almost impossible to distinguish one soldier from another. But she persevered, wanting to be sure, needing to be sure—that she was wrong.
Then a set of inner doors began to close, separating soldiers from the rest of the vessel as they continued toward their quarters. Officer after officer turned in her direction as dim internal illumination took over from external sunshine.
Just before the inner doors shut tight, the pupils of one officer glinted with a singular flash.
Too stunned by the news to pace, object, or do more than gape uncomprehendingly at his companion, Vaako could only blurt, “You mean, ‘on Helion’?”
A handsome fool was still a fool, she told herself heatedly, but this man was the best she could do. Berating him aloud would only be counterproductive. In the scheme of things, there was no alternative to the newly promoted commander general. She had too much invested in him to alienate him now.
They had been handed a shock. Well, she had dealt with difficult,