The Forgotten Prince Read online

  The attack on the Skyward Garrison had proven to the Regent Commander they had become complacent, had taken too much for granted, and it had cost them dearly. A sour taste filled his mouth at the thought of Wendy and her Lost Boys destroying everything he and the captain had worked so hard to achieve. He only hoped that they would have enough to complete the project.

  His gaze went to the barge, then to the hazy city below. His chest tightened, and his lips curled in a hateful sneer.

  Damn fools, he thought, they have ruined this great city.

  Pan could not understand their incessant need to wage a pointless war against them. Neverland had never been in better hands. How could they not see that? Would they rather the Graft return and plunge their world into darkness again?

  “Excuse me, Commander.”

  Pan turned to Major Starkey, standing with his hands behind his back, just outside the door to the bridge behind him. Pix scanned the man for any threats as Pan casually inspected the Major’s immaculate uniform. Everything about the man exuded professionalism and attention to detail, a fact some officers lacked. Despite his failure to stop the attack on the Refinery the day before, his service record was nothing short of exemplary, and unlike the captain, Pan was a forgiving commander.

  “What is it, Major?”

  Starkey stepped away from the bridge hatch, revealing another officer standing in the hatchway. “Sir, there has been a very interesting development in the matter concerning the Othersider.”

  Pix shot forward and scanned the second man. The stripes on his sleeve identified him as a First Lieutenant, and the shield on his left chest displaying a stylized planet in the grip of a hand indicated the officer was a member of the Regency’s Counter-Intelligence Division. Almost immediately, the Lieutenant’s name, Alfred Grenald, appeared in Pan’s visual feed from Pix.

  The presence of CID increased the level of Pan’s interest, from mildly curious to focused anticipation. Over the past several hours, his operators had vetted over a dozen leads in response to his security dispatch. All had led to dead ends if they had led anywhere at all. Fortunately, the news of the punishments being handed down for those erroneous reports had spread quickly and the flood of bad information dwindled to a trickle.

  His command staff was capable and efficient, something Pan could not say of all the Regency departments. With the amount of resources available to them, he found it extremely frustrating to have to rely on simple freelance agents. Despite the wide net they could cast by using freelancers, they were, sadly, unreliable.

  Lieutenant Grenald stepped forward to stand even with the Major then saluted. His black uniform tunic adorned with several medals and devices Pan paid little attention too. Recognition was for the weak. The decorated uniform did, however, tell Pan that the officer knew his business, and that was all Pan was interested in.

  “Sir, this is Lieutenant Grenald, Control Officer for the Eastern Sectors. He runs a number of, shall we say, freelance operators throughout his area of responsibility,” the Major said.

  Pan nodded for him to continue.

  “Lieutenant Grenald has been running down several leads for us concerning our security dispatch. He contacted me this morning with information from one of his operators he believes to be credible. After personally reviewing the information with him, I have to agree with his assessment.”

  The fact that Starkey endorsed the information before revealing what that information was, spoke volumes about the man. The Major’s willingness to stand behind his subordinates was, again, something that most other officer’s lacked. He obviously had a good reason to believe the authenticity of the information, and Pan was intrigued to learn why.

  “What have you discovered?” Pan asked.

  Grenald glanced briefly at Starkey, probably making a silent confirmation that he was supposed to address Pan directly, and after the Major nodded, he spoke.

  “Firstly, Commander Pan, it is a great honor to meet you, sir. I never imagined that I would ever meet you, much less be reporting to you on an issue this sensitive.”

  Pan nodded silently, having never been one to enjoy flattery, but he sympathized with the young officer. This encounter would most likely be the highlight of his career, no doubt. If the information was as good as Starkey obviously trusted it was, the results of this meeting would push him up through the ranks quickly.

  Grenald continued, “As Major Starkey stated before, my office has been running down leads on your dispatch non-stop all night. All have been dead ends, until this morning. I have to say, however, that I was skeptical at first; the information just seemed too good to be true. My team and I spent several hours ensuring the accuracy of the information. As far as I can tell, everything we learned appears to check out.”

  Starkey grunted. “I would hope so.”

  Pan ignored the remark, even if the Major accepted the information as accurate, it was his duty to consider all information presented to his commander with just the right amount of cynicism. Especially in said commander’s presence.

  Pix, who’d been floating around the trio of officers, picked up movement beyond the tall bridge door and moved to investigate. No one but Pan noticed, and several milliseconds later the little bot relayed the information to Pan.

  Two other figures stood within the shadows, in front of a third who seemed to be bound to a counter-grav chair. A hood covered the seated figure’s head, and if it hadn’t been for the faint vital signs Pix registered, Pan would have thought the person was dead.

  “And who are these . . . ” Pan paused, taking a moment to choose just the right words, “guests you’ve brought with you, Lieutenant?”

  The Lieutenant frowned. He glanced at the Major, then back to Pan.

  “I…uh…sir, these,” he twisted back to the bridge hatch, motioned for the unseen parties to step forward, then continued, “are the agents who brought me the information.”

  Grenald stepped to the side, allowing his commander to view the new arrivals even though Pan already had a much clearer picture of the two agents than any of them would ever know. He kept his distaste hidden as the man and woman stepped forward. The counter-grav chair slid silently through the air behind them.

  The woman wore a tight-fitting, dark grey shirt and matching pants. The holster on her hip was empty, however Pix registered a small dagger strapped to the small of her back. Pan noted the weapon, then paid it no more attention, making a mental note to reprimand his security personnel before the day was out.

  The man was unarmed and wore a long black coat, buttoned up the front. Of the two of them, he seemed the most nervous, and Pan wondered why. Then again, he conceded that being brought before the Regent Commander would probably make anyone a little nervous.

  Grenald said, “Sir, allow me to introduce Calsi Diehm and Len Lorne. Both freelance agents in my operational intelligence network.”

  The man offered his hand. “Commander Pantiri, it’s an honor to meet you.”

  Pan had no desire to shake the man’s hand, and made no move to do so. A few uncomfortable seconds passed until Lorne realized Pan truly wasn’t going to shake his hand then with drew it and straightened.

  Grenald cleared his throat in an attempted to interrupt the awkwardness. “Ms. Deihm came into some information last night we believe to be of upmost importance to the security of the Regency.”

  Pan motioned impatiently for him to continue, irritated that he had to prompt the information out of him. What he wouldn’t give for every one of his officers to be as clear and concise as Starkey. He wondered how long the Major would allow the man to keep fumbling his way through the briefing, until he simply took over.

  Almost as if he had read Pan’s mind, Starkey said, “Perhaps, we might allow Mr. Deihm to share the information directly, Lieutenant.”

  Pan watched the air leave the young officer’s sails even before Starkey finished speaking. He imagined the young intelligence officer felt a combination of relief and embarrassment; howe
ver, he quickly composed himself, hiding any sign of discomfort.

  “Of course, sir.” Grenald said.

  The woman fidgeted with her hands, as if she didn’t know what to do with them, finally deciding her pockets were the best place for them. Despite her apparent nervousness, her voice was calm and confident.

  “Commander Pantiri, I’d first like to thank you for the opportunity,” Calsi started. “Any chance to further the Regency’s mission is one I take on with pride and honor. As Major Starkey and Lieutenant Grenald already stated, a lead on the Othersider mentioned in the security dispatch did, in fact, cross my path.

  “But,” she motioned to the figured in the counter-grav chair. “I think you’ll agree, that what I found is much more than just a simple piece of the puzzle.”

  Pan listened to the agent’s story, and as she spoke, his pulse quickened. It took everything he had to remain passive. His heart pounded with anticipation, the thought of finally putting an end to the insurgency overwhelmed every other thought in his mind. The name, Wendy, echoed and blared in his mind.

  He could not remember exactly how long he had been hunting them, but Wendy and the Lost Boys had been a thorn in his side for far too long. As the captain constantly reminded him, they’d been fighting this war since before Pan could remember. But even with the seemingly unquestionably validity of the information, he refused to allow himself any elation. Only when he crushed that bitch’s skull with his boot would he allow himself rest.

  When Calsi finished, Pan took several moments to compose his thoughts, not wanting to give anything away. With this information he would finally crush Lost Boys and rid Nevaris of their stain for good.

  Finally, Pan said, “You have done well, Ms. Diehm. You have done the Regency a great service by bringing this information to us during this desperate time. Not to mention, the gift you saw fit to bring with you.”

  He motioned to Oak’s bound and hooded body still secured to the chair. “I am truly grateful.”

  Calsi lifted her chin. “Of course, Commander, anything for the honor of the Regency. I only wish that I could have brought you more.”

  “The only other thing you could have brought me would have been the head of my enemy, Ms. Diehm, and I fear that even for a woman of your obvious talents, that feat would have been extremely difficult if not impossible. Nonetheless, your efforts will be rewarded.”

  Pan turned to the Major.

  “Major Starkey, would you please ensure that our guests are given appropriate accommodations and see to it that they want for nothing.”

  “Of course, sir,” The Major answered, then turned to Grenald. “Lieutenant.”

  Fortunately, the Lieutenant either understood what was expected of him, or simply wanted to get away as soon as he could. He saluted smartly then said, “Aye, sir.”

  He turned on his heel and motioned for the two freelancers to follow.

  When they disappeared through the bridge hatch, Pan said, “Recall our forces, Major. Everything we have. I want to move on their base within the hour.”

  The Major stepped close and spoke just loud enough for Pan to hear. “Do you think it is wise to focus all our attention on this one piece of information without first vetting it? I mean, I’m sure that these freelancers aren’t foolish enough to bring us erroneous information, but would you permit me to send a recon team to at least verify that the enemy is where they say?”

  Pan touched a finger to his temple, silently cursing the pain and its horrible timing. He took his last dose and returned the injector to his pocket. He could not discount the Major’s line of reasoning, but at the same time refused to believe the information to not be true.

  A junior officer appeared through the bridge hatch, saluted and handed Major Starkey a slip of paper. Starkey read it and visibly tensed. The feed from Pix told Pan that the man’s blood pressure had jumped and his pulse quickened.

  “Thank you, Mister Preble,” Starkey said and the officer disappeared through the hatch without another word.

  “What is it, Major?”

  “Another attack on one of our apprehension units, Sir. A team along the Old Town/MidTown border reports they are under attack by a small group of insurgents. Sector Security has dispatched two units to reinforce.”

  The Major shook his head, obviously frustrated. “We’ve been suffering these random attacks for about a week now. Usually it’s nothing but untrained militia. Most of the attacks we have easily fended off, but it appears this particular group is well equipped. Honestly, I don’t understand what they think they can possibly hope to achieve by attacking us, they have to know our resources are next to unlimited, whereas theirs are not.”

  The fact that these attacks happened at all was unsettling, to say the least. However, the fact that they’d been occurring for a week and this was the first he’d heard of them, upset him even more. Even with his overwhelming hate for the Lost Boys, he did not think they would be so foolish as to stretch themselves so thin at a time like this.

  If the attacks truly were random, however, the people of Barreen desperately needed a reminder of the Regency’s power and might, and who protected them from the wilds of Nevaris. The captain’s justice would be swift, and it would be total.

  “You have the coordinates for the compound?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Lay in a course, Major, and dispatch additional units to assist our collection unit. Before this day is done, the damned Lost Boys will be nothing more than a forgotten memory.”

  EIGHTEEN

  “Keep the engines purring, would ya,” Tim said, climbing out of his seat and back into the rear cabin of the skiff.

  John unclipped his harness and twisted to examine the smoldering wreckage twenty yards away. “No problem.”

  Pillars of black smoke rose from the destroyed Regency vehicles, and the stench of burning metal and rubber filled the air. From his position in the skiff, he could see two of the fourteen Regency soldiers sprawled out on the mosaic plaza floor, pools of dark red blood gathering underneath each. One of them had nearly been blown in half by the skiff’s autocannons.

  After blowing up two of the escort vehicles and gunning down four of the guards on their initial attack run, Tim brought the skiff down fast and hard, touching down just long enough for everyone in the back to bail out before lifting back up into the air. With John in control of the skiff’s weapons, they took out the last escort truck, and not wanting to harm anyone inside the transports, left them for the team on the ground.

  The others moved in quickly and took down the remaining troops with mild resistance, Wendy and Carter moved in from the north while Tom and Bella came in from the east, pinning the Regency soldiers into a lethal kill-box. A few managed to find cover long enough to fire, moving tactically back along the row of smoldering trucks. Previously detained Dusters fled as soon as the fighting began, three were mowed down by a soldier firing an automatic heavy rifle before Tom got a bead on him and shot him square in the chest.

  The battle didn’t last long and it was painfully obvious that the Regency Troops had nowhere near the level of training as military infantry back home. It was almost as if they had been recruited, given a uniform and gun, and told, “Go forth and conquer.”

  They made fast work of searching the dead Regency troops. Which was only a little morbid, John thought. He had to keep reminding himself this world was very different from his own, with a completely different way of life. He wondered how the people in the Core lived, and if they were as oblivious to the savage nature of the outside world as most people were on Earth. Before he’d joined the military he hadn’t had a clue about the real world, now he wished he still didn’t.

  “Here, help me out would you?” Wendy asked as she stepped up to the skiff. She pulled a small, grey trunk behind her, leaving a trail in the dirt behind it.

  “Yeah, sure,” John said, hopping down. He moved around to the opposite side and grabbed the handle. “Find anything useful?”
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  “Everything is useful,” Wendy said, then counted to three, and they both heaved the heavy crate into the back of the skiff. “Looks like they were transporting ammunition stores to the outer garrisons.

  She pushed the container farther into the compartment.

  “How many garrisons are there?” John asked, rubbing his hands together.

  “Six total,” Wendy said. “Three outer stations scattered through Old Town, but they are only for show, and aren’t fully staffed. If we really wanted to, we could take one out easily with just our group, but there isn’t a reason to bring that much attention to ourselves. The two in Midtown are fairly well staffed, and of course, Regent Headquarters is right smack in the middle of Bay Town.”

  Bella appeared next to them, arms full of weapons taken from the dead soldiers. “Hey, a little help, please.”

  “Here,” John said and moved to take two off the top of the stack. He slid them across the metal floor of the skiff’s deck, then took the next two and repeated the process.

  Bella clapped her hands together, dusting them off. She grinned and nodded behind her, toward the carnage of burning, twisted metal. “Thanks. I’ll be back with another load in a minute, don’t want to leave anything for them to use against us later.”

  “Good plan,” John said. “Need help?”

  “Yeah, c’mon.”

  As John turned to follow Bella, the skiff’s radio cackled and came to life. The transmission was garbled and filled with static, but there was no doubt about the message’s content.

  Michael’s voice was frantic.

  “Wendy, are you there? The Compound is under attack! I repeat, the Compound is under attack. Several Regency squadrons are in-bound. Shit . . . ” there was a paused and the sound of muffled gunfire came through.

  Wendy jumped into the cabin then snatched the handset from its cradle on the back wall. “Michael, are you there? What’s going on?”