“Slag the damn thing! Give it everything you have!” Theron yells over comms as the barrage continues.
Eventually, both ships cease fire. In my current immobilized, state, the only body parts I can move are my eyes and not without much strain. But I can see the update on my HUD. There are no power readings coming from the remains of the behemoth, now drifting several meters behind me.
I float in silence for a spell, drifting slowly toward the Diamond. Suddenly, there is comm chatter as Leon disables his shields and both ships open their cargo bay doors for ingress. Bellona and Doctor Capaldi board the Pernix and the Diamond while more traction beams emanate from both ships to pull the rest of the crew and the hovercrafts into the bays.
Without warning, twin beams of energy erupt from the remains of the Huntsman and slam into both hovercrafts. Both vehicles and their cargo erupt into flames, exploding while the Pernix and the Diamond open fire once again. I am still too deep in the neuroweave, not lucid enough to properly register the implications.
My comms are a cacophony of anguished screams and angry cries as Mila and Bellona integrate themselves into the targeting systems of both ships. They lock onto the smaller remnant of the Huntsman.
“Too late. Far too late once again.” Octavia broadcasts on several comms channels we have kept open for monitoring. “Had you left well alone, those girls would have lived quiet, peaceful lives in the heart of the Conglomerate. But you just had to force my hand. Now they, along with your captains, are dust. Their demise is your fault."
Just as she finishes speaking, the Argent Fatale, the Queen's sleekest, most powerful capital ship and her personal transport, warps in behind the Diamond and the Pernix, along with several other capital ships and battle cruisers.
I spare a quick glance at my HUD. My counter for the most optimum time to warp out of the Faldan system has elapsed by two minutes. The Conglomerate blockade is now at full force.
The crew of the Pernix hurl obscenities and curses over comms, but Octavia mutes them.
“It is only out of sheer self-control and my superior proclivity to wisdom that I do not obliterate you all this instant.” The Queen says. “No, too much has been wasted today and now, you see what a little patience can yield.
The princesses are now martyrs by your hands and you will all be executed for treason and murder. The Conglomerate need not know that Captain Zavus is a filthy traitor. He can continue to be a symbol of hope for the people, serving me even in his death. That Theron Jaeger will also be dead is a personal delight I will cherish.”
“You monster! You were going to hold the princesses over Faldan, using the people’s loyalty to the royals as leverage. You marked them as pawns in your game and damned them to a life as tools for intergalactic blackmail.” I croak weakly.
“No, child! It is you who damned them! Your antics on the Faldan Space station will mean I may even have to sanitize the population. You have wrested it from my grip for but a heartbeat.” The Queen seethed. “They had to die the moment you played your hand and you have lost. You are the monsters here today, coming in from the farthest reaches of space to upset the beautiful peace we have established in this system.”
“Anyone who can blow up two little girls with the flip of a switch is a monster, you evil hag-bitch.” I slur a little, but speak with conviction. “Your pet creation might have opened fire, but it was you pulling the trigger. You claim you do all of this out of wisdom, but really you’re just the biggest psychopath in the known universe.”
“And yet all I hear are the fruitless words of a dead girl. Nothing more.” The Queen says in that smug tone of hers that makes me want to claw out her eyes. “It is by my wisdom, my restraint, and yes, my own might that I am now in possession of you. I have the perfect story to tell my loyal subjects and my superior intellect has secured my victory this day.”
“Well, if you’re so bleeding smart, how come you fall for the exact same thing over and over?” Theron says over comms. “That’s right, Planet Faldan. You heard it right here! Broadcasting live. I mean, with so many people on the station who totally loved part one of today’s broadcast, we figured we’d give you guys a copy of it and live stream part two!”
“What is the meaning of this?” The Queen sounds confused.
I manage a small smirk, so small that I barely feel it. It’s highly possible my facial muscles haven't moved, but I don’t care. Sometimes, you just gotta savor your joy on the inside and let the outside follow in its own time.
“Don’t just like and subscribe to the ‘I’m an evil psycho’ channel. Show us you like it by, oh, I don’t know, taking control of your planet and maybe throwing up some kind of reverse orbital bombardment?" Theron continues with mock insouciance. “You know, to knock these invading forces right out of your planetary space.”
But this next line he delivers with so much conviction that I would’ve had goosebumps if I were fully functioning. “It is time the Faldanian Fire Sparrow left the shadow of the Imperial Nighthawk to fly sovereign once again.”
Every once in a while, I am reminded why Theron Jaeger is the captain of the Sol Pernix. This moment is one such reminder.
“How are you doing this?” The Queen yells. She's starting to sound frantic now. “What cheap chicanery is this?”
“Wow, clearly, you never had a real childhood with playmates, and magic tricks and… imagination, huh. Like… ever.” Theron says. It's more a statement than a question. “I mean, that’s sad but it also has an expiration date as far as excuses go.”
“You will explain this insolence—“ The Queen is interrupted as one of the capital ships fires at the Argent Fatale. You can almost imagine the stunned look on her face as she tries to understand this next wave of fresh hell. Within the space of a few seconds, another one of her capital ships fires at the Fatale.
“Did I mention I was broadcasting this entire time? Like from the moment your Huntsman blew up the floor from underneath us down at the station?” Theron says, tone laced with mischief. “And I took the liberty of beaming all the footage to every capital ship in orbit. Gotta say, Jean Philippe and Bellona really are elite. If I never thanked you for your craftsmanship, let me express my gratitude with a little song.”
Of all the songs he could have picked, he chose the most ribald and disrespectful shanty about the Queen. The same one that she had specifically outlawed throughout the Conglomerate. In between lines, Theron issued orders for his crew to reel us in, while asking Leon to standby and shield both ships.
Even in my post shutdown state, I know that Leon won’t last too long against a capital ship of the Fatale’s caliber, let alone an entire armada. Definitely not after this long, drawn out battle and not even with the supplies we have left on the Diamond.
I survey the chaos unfolding before me and can’t help but think that even if we don’t survive today, the sheer amount of damage we've would set the Conglomerate back decades with the Faldanians.
Well, I thought it would be decades, but it seems we won’t have to wait that long for Faldan to formally express their distaste for Conglomerate rule. All around me I see the Royal Faldanian Armada, fresh from clearing Faldan’s upper atmosphere, open fire on the Conglomerate blockade. That certainly gives credence to my theory.
I’ll be damned. The Fire Sparrow is in open rebellion.
I don’t see the rest of the battle though, as the traction beam finally draws me into the Diamond’s hold safely. Soon, I find that I am once again in Doctor Capaldi’s capable hands.
“He’s laying it on a little thick out there, isn’t he?” The doctor says, administering the rest of the meds I need for a full recovery. I try to reply with a snide comment, but he shushes me. “Plenty of time to tell that insufferable blowhard what we think of him later. And if the Queen manages to blow us up before then, I’ll patch you through to him m’self.”
“The girls…” I croak.
The Doctor smiles, or what passes for a smile in his case anyway.
“Kelna. Come help.” Doctor Capaldi beckons. From behind him a pair of very round, curious eyes meet my languid gaze. If the younger princess was with us, then Lahani was on the Pernix.
As she takes instructions from the Doctor on how best to medicate me, I notice she has a knack for the healing arts. With any luck the Faldanian royal family will recognize this as a strength and not a skill beneath their noble status.
“Was it scary flying around in space?” I ask hoarsely.
She shakes her head. “Captain Zavus kept me safe the whole time.” She adds shyly, blushing.
If I had the strength to sigh and roll my eyes, I would have. Hard same, kid. Hard same.
Before I can ask, Doctor Capaldi answers my unspoken question. “He’s in the weapons bay with Dropshot and Mila. He’s a good one. Too bad ye don’t feel nearly half as much for Zavus as you do the other one.”
I’m lucid enough now to protest, but the Doctor administers another round of meds to stabilize me before I can speak. “Batter me all you want later. For now, you need to cool down.”
I fight hard to stay awake and reach for one of his syringes. You know, so I can poke him in the face. But even the thought of it wears me out and I feel myself slipping into unconsciousness.
“Ye’ve done yer part. You’re no good to us catatonic and you will be if you push too hard too soon. Ye aren’t so far gone that you forget we’ve worked with the Pernix before.” The Doctor strokes my hair. “Trust us to finish what we’ve started.”
With my limits exceeded 'ever so slightly', I have no choice. Everyone’s in good hands with Theron. He’ll make sure to finish the op.
With that last thought, I drift into the long deep darkness of sleep, the only surrender I allow myself this day.
◆◆◆
Encrypted Transmission
Origin: Vector 27785
Motherland has broken the yoke.
Repeat. Motherland has broken the yoke.
Requesting clearance to assist further.
Encrypted Transmission
Origin: Alliance Capital Ship Haven Five
Copy that. Standby for emancipation protocols. ETA ASAP.
Chapter Twelve
I wake to the harsh light of an Alliance med bay. Too many things come into focus all at once. Jarring as the sensory overload is, it at least tells me a few things.
The most important thing is that I have recovered completely from interface exhaustion. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to focus on or process this many details concurrently.
Which leads me to the second most relevant bit of knowledge I can glean: I am on the Haven Five. I'd recognize the way it hums anywhere. Plus I have been confined to these exact quarters before.
My mind replays the last several hours worth of memories. Over the years, my brain has learned to do this on reflex. It allows me to ground myself in the present, to get my bearings and sift through what matters and what doesn’t. On a more useful note, it helps me formulate the right questions.
Like, for instance, what’s happened to Faldan and the princesses? What has the council decided to do with Z? Is the crew of the Sol Pernix still onboard the Haven? What should I do with all the information Octavia disclosed?
I sit up and am grateful that the world doesn’t spin around me when I'm upright. Relieved as I am, it also tells me that I must have been unconscious for at least a day and a half. Any less time, and it’s vertigo city for me.
Carefully, I remove the needles in my arm that connect my bloodstream to what I am sure are some very helpful fluids. Unless I’m in battle, and most certainly not while I’m in any kind of medical space, I don’t tolerate needles in my body. Had enough of that as a child. Don’t need any more if I can help it.
Like clockwork, the door to my room opens. I was expecting some ward nurse to check on the dislodged fluids, so I'm surprised to see Mother Ryn standing in the doorway.
Lady Stormcrow herself. Alliance Admiral, and one-time foster mother to one traumatized orphan and her seven elite robot friends.
“Hello, Yuki.” She says with a smile.
“Hey.” I nod at her. “No flowers? No get well soon holos?”
She smirks and glides over to my bedside. So stately, this one. I never did absorb any of that grace.
“You did it.” She says simply.
“Go team.” I reply, deadpan. Nonchalance keeps Mother Ryn on her toes and hides the fact that I’m glad she’s proud of me. She isn’t always forthcoming with the praise, but I’ve come to know her pretty well over the years. It’s her eyes. She can’t hide anything with those eyes.
“Of course, many Faldanians thought you took a terrible risk baiting Octavia. We’re managing the few dissenting voices who want to sanction you publicly for reckless endangerment.” Ryn continues.
I roll my eyes, and the look in hers echoes the same sentiment. We both don’t care and are glad for the win.
“Tell me, since when have Doctor Capaldi and Bellona had exo-suit capabilities? And just how did you manage to hide the fact that they were carrying not just the girls, but Captain Jaeger and Agent Zavus as well?”
I smile smugly. I'm very proud of this.
“You’re gonna want to thank Harlan and Pirsi for that. The few times we docked here in the last several months, we got to thinking about how Bell and Doctor C’s mobility tech were wasted on just simple movement.” I explain. “A few missions back, we figured out that Bell would be the perfect extraction suit if we modified her to interface with my tac suit. Modifying the Doctor’s frame in a similar way would be perfect for medevac, if you keep thinking along those same lines.”
She nods, easily following my train of thought. Harlan Farrin and Pirsi Klai-un were the hardware and software engineers assigned by the Alliance to care for our operative team ever since we were rescued. They also handle a couple of other heavy hitters, like the Lightning Storm and Aurora Teams. Bet Ryn’s feeling a lot of vindication now after all the crap she had to put up with to get the Alliance’s top team of hybrid code-breaking grease-monkeys to work with us.
“Doctor Capaldi, genius engineer that he is, found some way to make enough room for both him and Bellona to wrap snugly around both girls and captains.” I continue. “The Doctor also used our spare gear to make sure they were all outfitted for exo-extraction from the waist down. Lots of jimmying involved, but we bought them enough time to get it done.”
“But how did you fool everyone into thinking the girls were in the transports?” Ryn asks.
My grin is feral as I explain. “Well, first, we got JP to rig some kind of counter beacon to transmit two life signs per hovercraft. That was the easy part.” I pause for effect. “Of course, we couldn’t have their legs dangling from beneath the Doctor and Bellona and giving the game away. Luckily, Mila and Jean Philippe both have spare camo-cloaks. And by then, since Bell and the Doctor were technically glorified extremely high-end jetpacks, we figured we’d cover up their legs with the cloaks to make it look like Bell and the Doctor were flying solo.”
We had some good plans. I don't even mind sharing credit with Theron. He floated the idea of better decoys after all. But only if people ask. Ryn didn't so... why bother mentioning?
“So, you strap both captains along with the princesses to Bellona and Doctor Capaldi… and use the transports as decoys.”
Ryn shakes her head and looks at me. In moments like this, it feels she either wants to slap me or hug me. Probably a little of both.
“We needed proof that Octavia wanted to kill the girls and that she would, if given the chance.” I say slowly. “We were also gambling with the fact that Octavia is obsessed with keeping me and the crew alive. Personally, I think it’s because she’s a big honkin’ bag of crazy. I didn’t think she could get nuttier, but…”
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