Empire of Women & One of our Cities is Missing (Armchair Fiction Double Novels Book 25) Read Free Page B

wasn’t the same chunk of iron it had been
when the Warspear ’ s jets started it on its way.   Now it was a vast contact bomb, homing on the
Mixar ship, and its graviton generators were stepping up more revolutions by
the second.  
    The only
effective defense against the thing now was to bomb or torpedo it so that it
wasted its explosive force in space, but its size was so small that this was a
virtual impossibility in the short time remaining.   The Mixar had made the mistake of trying to
blast it away with its jets, as it had seen the Warspear do.  
    The
explosion blew a hole in the Mixar’s rear into which the Warspear could
have driven and parked, with room for a theater besides.  
    The Mixar
dreadnought lost way, drifted slowly in a circle, her jets guttering as she
tried vainly to get going again.   Then
she blew up, giving off a glare of light like a little star as her fuel fissioned.  
    The
disaster took the heart out of Phira and put it back into the Konaparian
fleet.   The invaders appeared again from
out of the blue yonder.   The Phirans
smashed into them, fighting heroically, but with no apparent tactic but
desperation.   They were well weaponed,
but outnumbered.   With better tactics,
they might have counted heavily, but it was evident they had based their hopes
on the big ship from the neighboring solar system, and that it had contained
their tactical brains, too.  
    The Cap
grinned as he eased his big body from the control seat and motioned Chan to
replace him.   “It looks as if the
Matriarchs are going to have to take masculine orders for awhile,” he said to
Chan, but the mate didn’t smile.  
    “I don’t
like it, Captain,” said Chan.   “What have
you got against the Phiran females you should knock their pins out for
Konapar?   How do you know it wouldn’t
have paid better to fight for the women, as it is natural for a man to do?”
    Gan
frowned, shook his head.   “You’ll find
out, DuChaile.   Wait until you
understand the Matriarchs; then you’ll agree.”  
    The
Phirans fled, reformed, tried to meet Konapar again on the edge of their solar
system.   But it was no good.   They lost two to one in a brief, raging
encounter.   They fled again, a fifth of
the fleet that had come out to meet the invaders.   The rest drifted, hulls riddled, along the
route they had so recently covered.  
    It was the
only resistance to the invasion.   When a
scout party jetted down over Alid, a white flag of surrender floated over the
spire of the Temple of Myrmi-Atla—and the Temple of Alid rules all Phira.  

CHAPTER FOUR

 
    CELYS,
high priestess of Myrmi-Atla, stood peering from the ornate leaded panes of her
sanctum in the temple.   She watched the
orange sky where one by one the great warships of Konapar loomed out of the
flaming horizon, grew huger, settled to a landing on the plateau above the
valley where the Holy City stretched along the high, curving banks of the
sacred river Kroon.  
    There were
tears in the lovely emerald-flecked gold eyes of the priestess.   Her long lashes were wet, and her slender
hands upon the black and gold of the drapes trembled with anger.   She knew quite well why Gunnar Tor Branthak
had broken treaty with Phira.   It was not
for gold, not for loot, not for power.   What the Tor wanted was the secret!  
    Beside the
window the dark stones slid silently aside, revealing an opening and a passage
within the seemingly solid wall.   In the
darkness a tall, pale figure moved like a cold flame, silent as a ghost.   Celys turned as the figure reached out and
touched her shoulder.   The two stood with
eyes fixed upon each other, then, as if moved by identical emotion, joined in
close embrace.   The one who had entered
from the wall murmured:   “It had been so very long, dear.   The Mother has sent me to replace you.   You are to return to Avalaon.   She needs to take council in this crisis, and
you should be there.”  
    Celys
released