“Well, you’re stuck with me instead.” The three laughed. “Admiral More has a certain fondness for me. He said he’s willing to overlook my faults and give me another chance.”
“I’m glad he’s back,” Chandler said. “I feel safe now that he will fly his flag from Steadfast, his old ship. Besides, it was getting tiresome seeing Anastasia mooning over Matt Heyward.”
Venn narrowed her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you that I admire the captain, and that’s it.”
“Of course. Admire.” Chandler said.
“Have you heard about where Captain Kim is going?”
“She’ll be waiting here at Galicia until a new Garnet can make its way to her. Then she’ll rejoin the 34th.”
“Any idea where this squadron will be deployed, once the truce ends?” asked Howell.
“Nothing official. Only rumours of uncertain trustworthiness. Some say we’re headed for Vert, to reinforce the flotilla there. Others have us going to Memnon, but given More’s link with that system, I doubt that. Some say we’re headed for the other side of the Republic, and will be patrolling the Gulf. Take your pick.”
Venn shrugged. “Time will tell.”
Howell sipped his coffee, pondering an unknown future.
*****
More settled into the captain’s chair on Steadfast. It felt comforting to be back in command of the heavy cruiser. She was one of the few known quantities in his life. All else seemed to be imponderable variables.
The promotion had come with the return to Steadfast. Vice-Admiral Andrew More. He didn’t think he deserved it. He had gambled to obtain the result he hoped for, and it had paid off. Aquitaine had been freed by the efforts of an ad hoc coalition that had formed to teach Ajax, and any other would-be mass murderers, what would happen if they broke the Accords.
More paused. No, the coalition had not formed to prevent mass murder. That had happened any number of times, and had gone unpunished. It had come into being to stop the future use of weapons of mass destruction. The distinction would be of little comfort to any who were being slaughtered by those wielding conventional weapons. The Accords seemed to say that such killing could be overlooked if no mass destruction weaponry was employed. Perhaps an additional convention should be added to the Accords, one that outlawed killing altogether.
More doubted that he would live to see the day when such a pact was made. He’d been the death of thirty-seven civilians, and managed to have Ajax take the blame for their deaths. Wasn’t he a murderer now too? Was it justified because he had done it for a good, even noble, reason? He wasn’t sure.
More left the bridge and retreated to his ready room. There, he swiped, summoning a holo. A recorded image of Admiral Mallory appeared before him. The admiral looked even angrier than the last time they had met in person, right when his promotion had been announced. The old man hated him with a passion that More found difficult to understand. Mallory was one of the few who knew what had happened at Victory Base, and he suspected, but could not prove, that More had connived, somehow, to lure the Ajaxian battleship into a breach of the Accords. He could do nothing directly against More, however much he wanted to, since he had again shown himself to be the hero of the hour.
More listened as Mallory delivered his classified orders. Steadfast was to deploy to the Gulf March, and keep watch there for raiders from the Milky Way.
Alone.
The rest of the 34th Strike Squadron was headed to the Tartarus war.
More sat up a little straighter in his chair. This was unexpected. He was almost certain that he and his ships of the 34th would be sent back into the war.
That was not to be. Ahead of him would be an endless series of patrols chasing pirates from the Milky Way. He would be far from the main action, posted to another sideshow, one of even lower priority than the war in Aquitaine had been. The Sphinx had been stirring up trouble for Halifax by supplying warlords and buccaneers on the far side of the Gulf with weapons. They would have to be contained while a bigger war raged inside the Sphere. He was to fight a holding action, just as he had done in Aquitaine.
More swiped away the holo of the dyspeptic Mallory. That was that. More would do his duty, as he always did, to the best of his ability, and according to his best judgment. It was time that he and his crew started preparing for the next deployment. He returned to the bridge.
“Comms?” he said.
“Yes,” answered Lieutenant Cooper Hu, turning toward More.
“Pull up everything you can from Steadfast and Galicia Base concerning the Gulf. Cast it to me. The TransGulf raiders are going to discover that there is a new sheriff in town.”
Epilogue
Imperial Prison 21227A, Teucer, Ajax system
The guard’s keys clinked noisily as he fumbled with the large, heavily-laden ring. After what seemed an interminable amount of time, the jailer found the correct instrument, inserted it into the lock, and twisted. The iron-barred door swung open creakily on hinges that had not been oiled in what Stahl guessed must have been years, or perhaps decades. Who was there to complain about it? Every occupant of this cell had been led immediately to the gallows, just as he was to be now. A squealing door hardly mattered once you were taking your last steps on the way to your own hanging.
Stahl paused briefly to consider what had brought him to this end. Bad luck. That was it. He was poised to win a great victory until, until, until, Andrew More happened. The ‘Devil of Memnon’ had confounded him, and then had vaporized Cawnpore in the blazing wreck of Arles Station. The Great Sphere had summoned up its nerve and driven Imperial forces out of the Aquitaine system and plastered another. Why had they done this? Why was Stahl being blamed for the failure of the enterprise? What did it matter? He was going to die inside ten minutes.
He’d limped home in Arrogant to the coldest of welcomes. A scapegoat was needed. He was the highest-ranking commander of the DN force that attacked Arles who made it back to Ajax. The emperor demanded a victim. That victim was Stahl.
He emerged into the bright light of morning. He was in the prison yard. The gallows stood in its middle. He took a step forward. There was no sense in prolonging this. He was a Domain Navy man, and would die like one, even if he had been stripped of his rank and then condemned to die, both things having been done without the benefit of a trial.
His progress was stopped by a heavy hand on his shoulder. It did not belong to the guard who had brought him out. The warden, an old, gruff man with a clipped, snow-white bead and bald pate that glinted in the sunlight, stood beside him.
“Raise your hands,” he ordered.
Stahl complied. “It isn’t proper procedure to allow a prisoner free use of his hands when being hanged,” he noted. Briefly, he allowed himself to hope that instead he would be stood before a firing squad, and die instantly beneath a flurry of laser blasts, rather than helplessly dangling for minutes from a thick rope.
“Quiet,” the warden said. The man undid the manacles, leaving Stahl rubbing his wrists. He stood there for several seconds while the warden retrieved a document from his breast pocket. “This is for you.” He turned and walked away, the guard following obediently behind him. The warden did not turn around when he said, “You are free to go.”
Stahl tore open the envelope and read the single sheet of paper inside it. Orders. He had orders. His rank had been restored. He was to report to the DNS Bludgeon, a Deathbird-class corvette. He was to be its commanding officer. There was no explanation forthcoming in the terse missive. The Domain Navy must be in obscenely dire need of trained officers for it to grant a reprieve to a disgraced failure such as himself.
Stahl folded up the letter and stuffed it back in the envelope. He did not return to collect the few personal possessions that had been confiscated from him when he had been thrust into Imperial Prison 21227A. It was time for him to leave and he had work to do.
END
ax Incursion
The Ajax Incursion Page 25