Invasion (The K'Tai War Series Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  GET NOTIFIED: of Future Books in The K'Tai War Series

  CHAPTER ONE: The Die is Cast

  CHAPTER TWO: Fight or Flight

  CHAPTER THREE: Breakfast

  CHAPTER FOUR: Another Day at the Office

  CHAPTER FIVE: The Mine

  CHAPTER SIX: Entering Orbit

  CHAPTER SEVEN: Entering Orbit

  CHAPTER EIGHT: Sue

  CHAPTER NINE: The Kids Escape

  CHAPTER TEN: Jacob

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: Crossing Paths

  CHAPTER TWELVE: The Pusher Train Station

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Plan Shadow

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Run to the Hills

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN: A School Teacher?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Claviger

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: The Long Walk

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:The Farm

  CHAPTER NINETEEN: Call to Arms

  CHAPTER TWENTY: The Cabin

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: The Mountain Retreat

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Heirs

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Raiders

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: Insertion

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: Repercussions

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: Lookee Lookee

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: Segments

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: A Stain on My Honor

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: Welcome to the Resistance

  CHAPTER THIRTY:Judy

  Books by PP Corcoran

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  Invasion

  Book 1 of The K’Tai War Series

  by

  PP Corcoran

  Copyright 2017 PP Corcoran

  Published by

  www.castrumpress.com

  License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Die is Cast

  When Lord Harvik received the summons to appear before Lavan XI, Gerent of the K’Tai Imperium, he had thought he would be ordered to take his command against yet another secessionist system: a mission which was becoming all too common among the fleet, and one which Harvik felt a growing unease in carrying out. As Harvik entered the Citadel, the ancestral home of the Lavan family since the earliest days of their centuries-old dynasty and the beating heart of the K’Tai Imperium, he felt the weight of history bear heavily on his broad shoulders as his footsteps rang on the worn cobbles and echoed from the ancient walls encompassing the Citadel.

  The historic fortress dominated the skyline of the K’Tai Imperium's capital city of Farak, a sprawling metropolis covering over 243,000 square kilometers of the planet Tarava’s surface like some giant leech made of concrete and metal. A population of 200 million serviced the bureaucratic needs of an Imperium which held sway over 300 star systems.

  As tradition demanded, Harvik paused as he reached the center of the courtyard, for here, gazing down upon all who entered the Citadel, was the 100-meter-tall statue of Rig. Positioned equidistantly along the circumference of the statue were the guardians of his teaching, the Kem Tak, their pure white armor polished to a point where Harvik saw his face reflected in their chest plates. The Kem Tak were promoted as the epitome of the K’Tai warrior. Standing two metres tall, their dark blue skin served to highlight their unblinking, ice blue eyes which stared out from below thick, heavily boned cranial plates which curved down sharply to meet at a pointed jaw. Their shaven heads were uncovered, so all and sundry saw their cold, hard faces and recognized without doubt that they were ready and willing to use the gleaming, deadly pulse rifles held in gauntleted hands to protect the figure of the K’Tai whose teachings shaped their very souls.

  Rig was the first Gerent, a warrior noble who, through force of arms and sheer willpower, unified the warring houses of the K’Tai over 2000 years earlier into one nation and set the K’Tai on the course to greatness. Rig had taken on a near religious place in the heart of the K’Tai warriors. His teachings on honor, fealty and respect for one’s foe had become the cornerstone which shaped the Imperium as it encompassed its home-world before spreading out among the stars to become the greatest empire the galaxy had ever known.

  The thick stone walls of the Citadel saw many a foe waste themselves on its impenetrable walls and gates; however, there were things that even the strongest physical defenses could not protect from, and one of those things is idealism.

  An idea had found fertile ground among the growingly disenfranchised masses. The idea that all K’Tai are born equal, no matter your lineage. This idea had spread to encompass the two subjugated races of the Imperium. The Sona had been conquered 2000 years before and were regarded by most pureblood K’Tai as little more than semi-intelligent laborers; the Valan, in comparison, had been fully integrated into K’Tai society. The Valan were to be found in every great house and at the heart of the industrial and economic centers that those houses controlled. They might have red skin and physically differ from the K’Tai, but only a fool would think that without their unfaltering service the Imperium could remain as strong as it was.

  Now, though, the voices of dissent whispered in dark corners and in small gatherings. Slowly but surely, the voices gathered strength and then, the unimaginable occurred. Tarat, youngest son of the Gerent, came out as a supporter of those calling for a change to the age-old system. Before the Imperium could react, Tarat became the leader of these secessionists, and several Mormaer, the provincial governors, had joined him. The Imperium faced a de facto civil war, its first in its 3000-year history. The aging Gerent was mortally wounded by his youngest son’s betrayal. It was said that he was no longer capable of handling the day to day running of the Imperium and this responsibility was now taken on by the Devisee, the designated heir of the Gerent, his eldest son Sinal.

  So lost in his thoughts was Harvik that he failed to notice the approach of the Valan whose purple robes identified him as a member of the Gerent’s personal household staff.

  “My Lord Harvik,” the Valan said with his chin tucked into his chest. With a wave of his hand, Harvik released him to continue speaking.

  “I have been given the honor of being your escort. If you will follow me.”

  Harvik nodded his assent before trailing the Valan into and through the Great Hall, an imposing building where the Gerent would hold grand formal dinners below a high arched ceiling hand-painted with the symbols of every noble house. Reaching the far end of the hall, the Valan servant halted. A solitary member of the Devisee’s own House Guard stood post before a set of exquisitely carved wooden doors.

  Without the usual pomp and ceremony that accompanied the arrival of a noble of an important house such as Harvik, he was shown into the Crown Room. As the doors closed behind him, Harvik noted the gilded seat reserved for the Gerent was empty, while the chair to its right, the position of the Devisee, was occupied by Sidal. It took Harvik a moment to realize that apart from the two of them, the room was empty. Harvik was too long in the tooth to be fooled by the apparent lack of any guards or aides. Every square inch of the room was undoubtedly covered by surveillance cameras, with armed guards behind every door ready to spring to the Devisee’s defense if they perceive
d a threat. Nevertheless, Harvik understood the gesture for what it was. Sidal was indicating the level of trust and confidence he had in the older K’Tai warrior.

  Rising from his chair, Sidal came forward to greet the Imperium’s premier fleet commander. “Welcome, Lord Harvik. May I offer you a drink? Larak wine, perhaps? The Citadel’s cellars hold a fine vintage.”

  Harvik tried not to let Sidal’s overtly friendly welcome phase him. Anyone who believed that Sidal had any room in his heart for friendship was an idiot. The oldest son of the Gerent was a shrewd politician who had spent the last two decades being groomed for the day he would ascend to the throne of the Imperium, and if rumor was correct, he had replaced the aging Gerent in everything but name. The fact that the Gerent himself was not present at this meeting only lent credence to the rumors of his failing health.

  “Perhaps a small glass, Your Highness. My time in the Oslav system has not allowed me much in the way of the finer things in life.”

  Sidal poured the older K’Tai a glass of the fine red wine and gestured for him to sit. Harvik did as he was instructed, shifting his weight in the plush seat, a far cry from his usual no-frills command chair aboard the fleet carrier Walak. Harvik waited for Sidal to take a sip of his wine before following suit; there was, after all, a strict protocol to be followed no matter how friendly the environment seemed. Sidal eyed the man that had been his father’s most trusted military adviser and close friend since both had been young men in the service of the then-Gerent Caral III, Sidal’s grandfather. Lord Harvik might be as old as his father, but he showed no signs of being bowed by the heavy weight of commanding the premier strike fleet in the entire Imperium. In fact, it appeared to Sidal that the opposite was true, and Harvik could easily have passed for a man twenty years his junior. Harvik, for his part, kept his face emotionless as he waited in respectful silence for the heir to the throne to speak.

  “My father and the entire Imperium rejoice at the news that you were able to return Oslav and those citizens loyal to the Imperium once more to our lawful control. It is unfortunate that the traitor Balal and his secessionist followers were able to take their own lives before being put on trial for their crimes.”

  A questioning frown creased Harvik’s high forehead. “Claviger Balal is dead? There must be some mistake, Your Highness. The Claviger and his troops surrendered. I personally negotiated directly with him. Once my fleet had obtained control of the high orbits and the Black Legion had secured the ground around his palace, he had little choice if he was to prevent any undue civilian casualties. When I received your summons to return to the Citadel, he and his troops were alive and well in the custody of Lady Kara. I doubt very much that she or her legion would allow harm to come to him.”

  Sidal slowly twirled the delicate stem of the wine glass in his fingers. “After your recall Balal, and his fellow traitors were transferred to the custody of the Kem Tak. Shortly after which, they attempted a mass escape. The Kem Tak were forced to open fire. There were no survivors. It appears Balal was not willing to face the humiliation of a public trial and its no doubt guilty verdict.”

  Sidal’s blasé statement that the former Claviger of Oslav and 1500 of his loyal troops had been killed by the Kem Tak caused the blood to drain from Harvik’s face, strong fingers tightening around the fine stem of the magnificent crystal glass, threatening to snap it. Harvik struggled to contain his anger and his voice came out low and barely under control.

  “Your Highness, I made a personal promise to Balal that he and his men would be treated in accordance with the teachings of Rig. Their deaths are a stain on my honor and that of my house!”

  Sidal waved his wine glass in the air dismissively, a sly smile on his lips. “Nonsense, Lord Harvik. You are in no way responsible for their deaths. You negotiated their surrender in good faith. How were you to know that those traitorous scum were planning to escape? For all you know, that may have been their plan all along. These secessionists have no honor. If anything, the Kem Tak have saved the Imperium the expense of a trial.”

  Harvik slowly placed his glass on the table’s surface. Its fine vintage now felt bitter in his mouth. Carefully he constructed his next question, praying that he did not receive the reply he feared would shame his house forever.

  “And what of the Claviger’s family and those of his followers?”

  “Ah yes, I believe they are also in the custody of the Kem Tak and are awaiting transportation to re-education camps.”

  A chill ran down Harvik’s spine. Would there be another attempted break out? Another excuse for the Kem Tak to rid Sidal of an unwanted problem? Harvik, like all K’Tai, had been raised with the teachings of Rig. During the wars of unification, Rig had stood above the others by showing compassion to his defeated enemies, turning many into allies by showing clemency. Throughout his long career Harvik had striven to follow his example, and it was one of the many reasons that he had risen to such prominence in the forces of the Imperium. The Kem Tak, on the other hand, had become a byword for dishonor. Harvik doubted that any of the relatives and friends of the defeated Balal would make it to a re-education camp. Rig demanded that he do his best to secure their safety. But how to word it?

  “If I may make a suggestion, Your Highness?”

  Sidal was surprised that the older K’Tai would be so forward with the heir to the throne. Perhaps after his next task, a suggestion should be made that he retire to his estates. Sidal’s sly smile morphed into a welcoming one.

  “Please, Lord Harvik. How could I not listen to a suggestion from one so experienced as yourself?”

  The attempt at sarcasm washed over Harvik like the pathetic attempt that it was.

  “With the secessionists defeated in the Oslav sector, the Kem Tak must be at full stretch to investigate and arrest any trace elements of the treachery. Perhaps Lady Kara and the Black Legion may be able to shoulder some of the Kem Tak’s burden. If the Claviger’s family and remaining followers were returned to her custody, then she could ensure their safe transport to the re-education camps, freeing up the Kem Tak for more… important tasks?”

  Sidal regarded Harvik for a moment with suspicious eyes. What was he up to? Sidal dismissed the thoughts. Harvik was most likely only following some misguided Rig honor code and besides, his idea made sense. The Kem Tak could ill afford the resources required to move large numbers of prisoners, while Lady Kara and the Black Legion were scheduled for a period of rest and refitting following the fierce fighting in Oslav. The system’s space-based industrial complexes had been of such value to the Imperium that it precluded Lord Harvik’s fleet from simply reducing them to expanding clouds of stellar dust. Harvik’s ships had had to fight their way into the heavily defended system, defenses which had included a substantial number of heavy fleet units loyal to the now deceased Claviger Balat’s house. Harvik had taken a significant number of casualties before overcoming the Claviger’s space borne forces and getting close enough for a successful assault by the Black Legion to retake the vital infrastructure. The secessionists had fought hard; however, the Black Legion were the best soldiers in the entire Imperium and they had won the day. The reports which reached Sidal were akin to the tales of old: Lady Kara had led every assault personally. Many considered it a mistake by the Gerent to allow Lady Kara to succeed her father as head of the House of Rala following his unfortunate death. There had been whispers that perhaps the Gerent was showing her undue favor and that it would be better for the Gerent to insist that Lady Kara should wed another of noble blood so that her house might be combined with another. There would have been no end of potential suitors for Lady Kara, for she was as beautiful as she was deadly. In the end, though, the Gerent had decreed that the young Kara should take on the mantle of head of her house and, as was her right, commander of the Black Legion. Lady Kara soon silenced her doubters as she proved time after time that she was indeed her father’s daughter, leading the Black Legion in a series of stunning victories against the enemies of th
e Imperium. The Gerent’s decision to combine the wisdom of Lord Harvik with the impetuous nature of Lady Kara had resulted in a finely edged sword that had yet to fail the Imperium.

  Sidal allowed himself an appreciative sip of his Larak wine, keeping Harvik waiting for his answer. When he judged that he was reaching the end of what was polite, he answered.

  “As usual, my lord, I see that you have a firm grasp of the situation. The Kem Tak are indeed required for more pressing duties. Only yesterday I was forced to dispatch units of my own Palace Guard to bolster their presence in the Paral sector after Claviger Weren announced that he was breaking his sworn oath of loyalty and siding with Tarava.” The strength of venom that Sidal’s statement finished with took Harvik by surprise, but not as much as the news that Weren had thrown his lot in with the secessionists. Weren had always been a loyal supporter of the Imperium and his house was nearly as old as Harvik’s own, though far wealthier, for the Paral sector was the Imperium’s main supplier of Redlazore, the key mineral in the only known functioning star drive. With the flow of Redlazore from Paral blocked, it would only be a matter of time before the Imperium exhausted its remaining stockpiles, effectively rendering the Imperium’s starships nothing more than expensive heaps of metal. Harvik now grasped the real reason that he had been summoned to the Citadel. He was to lead his fleet against that of Weren and secure the Redlazore mines. Harvik placed his glass on the table and stood with a sense of urgency, which was swiftly replaced by puzzlement as Sidal continued to sit holding his delicate wine glass.

  “Your Highness, that is indeed troubling news. With your permission, I would like to return to my ship and begin immediate plans to retake Paral…”

  The raised hand of Sidal halted him mid-sentence. “Units have already been dispatched to Paral, my lord, with orders to blockade the sector. Please…” Sidal indicated Harvik’s vacant seat.