Unconquerable Sun

by Elliott, Kate

  After they’d weighed the body down beneath a few more logs to keep it pinned as it burned, Sun sprinkled powdered incense over the wrapped body.

  “When he was a boy Octavian Yíng Alhesperus lost his family in the siege of Troia Terce. He told me he joined the Chaonian military so no other child’s family would meet the same fate. It’s also why he quit, when he realized he had become the very monster that had made him into a soldier. He was a hard man, and he never tried to make me feel better when things were rotten. People thought he wasn’t friendly, that he didn’t like them, and he didn’t like most people, it’s true. I trusted him with my life, and he gave his life to save mine.”

  She held out the bag.

  Hetty took it, and sprinkled incense in her turn. “He sat beside me all night at my father’s pyre, when my other father was too broken by grief even to attend. He didn’t say one word. Just being there was the only word he needed to say.”

  James doffed his cap and slapped it against his chest. “I’m a good shot because of that bastard and how he would not let up on our training. I swear his name for me was ‘You lazy son of a bitch, stop talking and start shooting.’”

  Sun cracked a smile as she wiped her eyes.

  Alika sang a lament.

  “I served with him,” said Isis. “He never left anyone behind.”

  Candace whispered, “When I came to the palace he told me he’d met my parents once, and that my mother was a wicked poker player and my father ate too many beans.”

  Persephone sprinkled incense to be polite.

  Naomi said, “May his soul watch over you and his spirit aid you in your time of need.”

  Tiana added, “May he sail the ocean of stars and make his way to the Celestial Empire and an abode of peace.”

  “Zizou?” Sun asked.

  Without moving from his vantage point he said, “Are you really going to burn him up? That seems a waste. We recycle everything.”

  Everyone looked at Sun, tense with anticipation.

  She merely nodded. “So must it be among the banner fleets. We observe different customs here.”

  She emptied the oil over the wood and the wrapped corpse, then set the fire. The flames took quickly, leaping and crackling. She began to sing the Hymn of Leaving in a trembling soprano. They let her finish the first verse before they joined in to finish the full sequence. Heat blasted in their faces.

  When she was ready, Sun pushed the mechanism that closed the jaws over the pyre. This closing created a sealed container which was drawn down into a crematory chamber hidden below. They remained standing for a long time, some still praying, some in silence. At length a chime announced completion. The slot opened and the container rose into the air. Though it was no longer at its greatest temperature, heat pulsed off the surface. The jaws opened to reveal the coarse remains and the pale wood ash. Sun took off the paper mourning jacket and tossed it on the pyre. The paper blackened, then flared up, utterly consumed.

  “Thus I fulfill my vow to you, that you be given the honorable rite of passage.”

  The others followed suit.

  Sun gathered some of the ashes into a small steel cylinder Tiana had purchased. The first streaks of dawn had barely begun to lighten the sky when the attendants appeared to collect the remains, which would be flown by drone out over the water and consigned to the waves.

  She looked questioningly at James.

  “Nothing from your father. No contact. No packets.”

  “That’s not like him.”

  As they headed back to the station, hurrying to get there before full light, Sun said to Persephone, “Can you get us to CeDCA undetected? I know the only way to get there is by train.”

  “Why go there?” Persephone’s voice was muffled by the mask. “Don’t you have some secret refuge where you can hole up?”

  “I don’t retreat. I attack. If your friend Solomon is working with Lee House, James can find a way to trace those conversations you say he was having with an ‘uncle.’ That will give me proof to convince my mother she’s being used. I am heir to Chaonia and the destiny that awaits us. No one will take that from me. No one. Do you understand?”

  24

  A DISPATCH FROM THE ENEMY

  Dear Mom,

  I don’t know how the pre-beacon voyagers survived with their sanity intact on journeys that took months or years. And that’s nothing compared to the flight of the refugee fleets from the Celestial Empire who spent generations in transit. How did they stand the forced confinement? The commanders keep us busy with routine, but by now the most even-tempered people are restless and the impatient ones are stir-crazy. Writing letters to you about the minutiae of my tedious days is how I cope, I guess, even knowing you won’t read this letter because I shall have to void it. But I wanted to tell you

  Apama stopped typing as the bugle for assembly piped through the ship. Since there was no way to turn down the volume in the cramped cabin, she let the sound reverberate through her body. Maybe this was the clarion call they were all hoping for, action at last.

  I wanted to tell you how much I love you and appreciate everything you’ve sacrificed for me.

  Rising, she closed the tablet and stowed it in her locker with her lefts while with her rights she unhooked her pilot’s dress uniform jacket and pulled out her boots. She tugged on the jacket over her gray tee and sealed her boots.

  Assembly for lancer pilots was on the flight deck with the sixty-four lancers racked up and everyone lining up according to rank. She joined Ana and Renay in the last row.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  “Rumor is they’re finally going to tell us the mission,” said Ana.

  “At five months out from Hellion Terminus there can’t be any risk of a leak,” added Renay.

  “You think there’s infiltrators on this ship?” Apama asked.

  “Don’t be naïve, Ice,” said a pilot in the row ahead of them, looking over his shoulder. “There’s always someone willing to take money to do any slimy, sli-i-imy thing.”

  “Shut up,” said her rack-mates together.

  “It’s all right, I know what they say about me.” She busied herself straightening her jacket, not wanting to give Lieutenant Anu “Buster” Fe Smith the satisfaction of thinking his snide comments hurt her.

  Fe Smith seemed ready to make another jab when, fortunately, the colonel entered with her adjutants. There came Gail, silent for once as another adjutant set down a crate. Colonel Ir Charpentier stepped up on it.

  Just then Delfina slipped through one of the cargo doors, buttoning up her jacket. She sidled up beside Apama with a grin like sugar.

  “Did I miss anything?” she mouthed.

  “Where were you?” Apama mouthed back.

  Delfina winked at her.

  When Delfina got bored she got sloppy. Probably she’d never had to take military discipline with proper seriousness because she didn’t have as much on the line as people like Apama, Renay, and Ana did.

  “Attention!” A master chief’s voice silenced any last whispering.

  The colonel cleared her throat.

  “You’ve long since figured out why we installed knnu drives alongside the beacon drives and torch drives in these ships. You’ve been disciplined in accepting the strict rations needed to sustain the extra weight and energy. You’ve been patient as we’ve taken the long road from Hellion Terminus, the way our ancestors once always had to do before the engineers of the Convergence built the beacon network. You’ve been diligent in playing and replaying the simulations that are preparing you for the mission. Now your discipline, patience, and diligence will be rewarded.”

  Because of the silence Apama noticed the constant background thrum of the knnu drive under its baffles and the steady whir of the ventilation system, which usually faded into the ambient noise of ship life.

  “We will enter Molossia System from deep space at a trajectory that allows us to immediately hit the naval command orbital station in orbit aro
und the fifth planet Pánlóngchéng.”

  “Whoa,” someone whispered in a row ahead.

  “Knnu drives are difficult to track regardless. Additionally, we’ll be using baffles to disguise our life-support heat signatures. Our plan and our expectation is that because no one expects an attack from deep space they won’t see us until it is too late.”

  “Our weapons are surprise and ruthless efficiency,” murmured Delfina.

  The colonel glanced their way. Apama pressed her boot over the other pilot’s foot in warning, but Delfina merely fluttered innocent eyes.

  “Once in-system we toggle to torch drives. We will smash and run, taking out whatever ships are at the command station. We will proceed to the third planet and its munitions depot. There we expect to meet more concerted resistance since they’ll have had warning. Our goal is to damage the depot and nearby shipyards. We will again smash and run, slingshotting around the third planet for a final cross-system sprint to the second planet, Yǎnshī. We will do as much damage as possible to the naval command orbital station there before we exit Molossia System through the Troia beacon.”

  The colonel waited as the pilots took in this astoundingly bold plan with gasps and excited whispering. Once they’d quieted she triggered a halo-screen, a 3-D rendering of Molossia System, showing its six planets and where they would be in relation to each other when the fleet reached its destination. The fleet appeared as a hazy cluster of pinprick lights that moved in a swarm to each target in turn. The path of attack allowed them to avoid Molossia Prime, the major population center, which anchored the beacon that led to Chaonia.

  “Any questions before I proceed?”

  “Are we going to attack Chaonia System?” asked someone in the front row.

  “No. It’s too well defended, and our position isn’t strong enough yet. I know you all want to. The Chaonian menace has been fierce and brutal. It hasn’t helped that they’ve ground the Yele League under their bootheels and forced them into an alliance. But not everyone in the Yele League is happy about that alliance.”

  She glanced toward the shadowed threshold of an open hatch where two figures stood side by side. One was a Yele admiral people had been gossiping about; though he had only two arms he was said to be a crack shot and an expert pilot as well as having defeated two imperial Phene fleets in battle twenty years ago. But time and tide, as the old saying went, can turn an enemy into a friend.

  The other wore a clear helmet molded to fit the individual’s head, as did every officer of colonel’s rank or higher when they were in battle. Apama firmly shifted her gaze away, not wanting to be caught staring. She knew what the other person was. Everyone did since there was only one way to coordinate plans across the vastness of space with the kind of immediacy necessary to synchronize fleet movements in separate star systems.

  The colonel coughed into a hand, a flicker of nervousness crossing her usually confident features as she tore her gaze away from the two individuals at the threshold.

  “Our intelligence operatives working in Chaonian space have recently confirmed that Queen-Marshal Eirene and her high command are plotting a major offensive to take Karnos System. We’ve received advance notice that three Chaonian fleets have been deployed to Troia in preparation for a coming offensive through the Hatti region. They’ve been building up to it since they grabbed a toehold in Aspera System five years ago. Our models didn’t predict the speed with which they have ramped up their industrial output. By damaging their military and industrial capability in Molossia we should set back their plans by several years at least. But that’s not all. Because we have a second battle to fight as part of this mission.”

  She gave them a moment to process this new information, then went on.

  “This is where you lancers will do your part. In Molossia System you’ll be scouts and skirmishers. You will stay away from the main confrontation, which will be undertaken by the cruisers and dreadnoughts. We’re going to hit and run, and we’re not going to slow down. But the Molossia attack is being run in coordination with a second major assault.”

  The halo-screen shifted to a wider view, reaching from Molossia to Karnos. Star systems floated like islands in an oceanic void, some connected by the glowing silver lines representing beacon routes while others hung alone.

  “A second assault fleet under High Admiral Sula Si Tanarctus will leave Karnos just before we reach the heliopause of Molossia System. They will cross by beacon into Aspera System. Once there, they will attack the Chaonian emplacements beyond Aspera Drift with so much power the Chaonian forward fleet will be forced to retreat via beacon to Troia to regroup. I promise you, we will wrest all of Aspera back from the Chaonians and the ghost of Ereshkigal Lee.”

  Many of the pilots hissed, as had become the custom when the infamous name was mentioned. Apama remained silent. She had no love for the very dead Ereshkigal Lee, but if Lee had been doing her duty, then how was that any different from everyone here?

  The colonel went on as the hisses faded.

  “So as you can see, we will hit the enemy from two sides. The Tanarctus Fleet will chase the Chaonians as they retreat from Aspera and follow them into Troia System. Our fleet will crash through Molossia and afterward drop into Troia by beacon. We will also hit the Chaonian ships in Troia. Once we’ve done as much damage as we can, both our fleets will withdraw through the beacon back to Aspera System. There, we will set up a new and stronger perimeter.”

  Apama found herself on her toes, leaning into the words. With a careful exhalation she rocked back to her heels. Succumbing to an emotional reaction never made life easier.

  “You’ll get full briefings in your pod groups, at fifth bell. But for now, I have one more thing to say to you. I want you to listen with all your heart and all your might. Many of you are too young to remember we once controlled all of the Karnos hinterlands, the Hatti reach, Kanesh, and Troia System itself. These places belong to the Phene Empire, not to belligerent upstarts. This mission will put a stop to Queen-Marshal Eirene’s grasping ambitions. She’ll have overreached for the last time. We will hold Aspera. And when we are ready, we will take back Na Iri, we will take back Tarsa, we will take back Kanesh. We will take back Troia! Are you ready to do your part, lancers? Are you ready?”

  Cheers reverberated off the bulkheads. For an instant the thrum of the knnu drive seemed a distant memory rather than a daily reminder of how long it took to cross space at the slow speed of their antediluvian ancestors fleeing the wreck of the Celestial Empire.

  Delfina elbowed her. “Why no cheering, partner?”

  “We just need to do our jobs, not use artificial stimulation techniques to wind up people’s limbic systems.”

  “You are Ice for real, Ap. Ice like Saint Aveline.”

  “I pray to Saint Arthas.”

  “I know, but I guess I’d have a poker face too if I’d grown up with what you had to deal with—”

  Apama signed stop, and Delfina shut up and signed peace in response.

  Dismissed, the pilots milled around, buzzing over the news and what it would mean for them. Lancers sometimes took the brunt of an attack, expecting death, and sometimes they were the bothersome gnats who kept the enemy distracted but stayed mostly out of their way. It looked like this time they’d get both jobs.

  She didn’t feel like pointlessly speculating over details they were going to get soon anyway, so she headed for the cafeteria to get a snack to tide her over until dinner. But she wasn’t the only one with that idea, or maybe he followed her on purpose.

  Footsteps padded up behind her. Buster shoved past with his toadies Lieutenants Peroz “Croak” Ru Nemeth and Veto “Skinny” Sb Flores hopping in his sleazy wake.

  “Ei, Apama, how about that drink you promised me five months ago? I’m all in for getting better acquainted—”

  “If you’re not going to use my call sign, then it’s At Sabao,” she said in the cool tone she’d had a lot of practice producing when she’d have preferred to s
nap into a white heat of anger.

  “Shellbao, you mean,” he said with a derisive smile, reaching out in a move meant to squeeze her upper arm to insultingly test whether she was soft- or hard-skinned.

  She stepped back fast enough that he missed and looked clumsy as his hand thunked into the bulkhead.

  “It’s not against the law for her mama to be a shell.” Croak blinked with all the wit of a daxter. “But Buster says he heard your mama is a sex grifter with a bastard child.”

  Her rack-mates hurried up right then.

  Delfina drawled, “Say, Croak, I hear your mama’s a stunt.”

  With a screech of rage, Ru Nemeth swung at Delfina, clipping her chin. Ana and Renay had already set legs out to sweep him down. He fell with a yelp.

  “I guess you have to defend her since you’ve got her slime all over you from racking with her,” sneered Fe Smith.

  Apama had heard the slur a hundred times during her training, but her rack-mates hadn’t. They hissed in displeasure, pushing forward to confront the other pilot.

  “What is wrong with you?” Ana demanded.

  “Mind your own business, you toad,” Renay snapped.

  “Lancers! Attention!” Gail came striding up. His usually cordial expression bore no friendly glint now. “I don’t want to know what’s going on, but it’s clear the long voyage has worn down everyone’s nerves. Buster, report to medical for your retinal clearance.”

  “But I cleared all my retinals—!”

  “What did I say?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Croak. Skinny. There’s a backup in the mechanics’ head. I need two volunteers to clean it up.”

  The look Fe Smith shot at Apama had a javelin’s prick. “Some shiny pretty shell’s caught the commander’s eye,” he muttered.

  “And after medical you’ll report to skunk duty in the pipes, Buster.” Gail paused long enough to set everyone off-balance before adding, “Do you hear me, Lieutenant? If I hear any more of this matter, you’ll be pulled from the cockpit.”