Vindication

by Ken Wolfson

  A hearty "Hurrah!" resounded from the officers. Adrian gave Amelie an innocent shrug. She rolled her eyes.

  The tugs cut tow and let Vindication drift into magnetic tether range. The dry dock's shutters opened in a gaping maw and swallowed the supercarrier in one gulp.

  A red ribbon dangled from the roof of the dry dock. The camera zoomed in. It was a banner.

  Welcome Home, Heroes.

  "Post that image on every announcement board ship-wide," Adrian said. Not every soldier was a hero; he'd known plenty ordinary humans and villains on his many deployments into the deep black void. But, after what they'd done during the battle of Vykhor, Vindication and everyone aboard were heroes. They’d done their duty, and Adrian couldn’t be more proud.

  "Sent," Amelie said. The magnetic docking clamps swung out and snapped down with a clang that rang through the ship.

  "Comms, the fleet munitorum will be asking us for the casualty reports and arsenal hold. Transmit those immediately."

  "Aye, sir," Sare said. Vindication's flash drones had preceded her home by a week. There were 17,000 families waiting in homes and hotels for news on their children, siblings, and parents. 26.1% of those would receive one final report and a folded banner.

  "As of now, everyone has twelve-hours leave while quarantine procedures are handled. All hands, make sure your task lists are spotless," Adrian said. He accessed his desk and pulled up the latest paperwork. His knees ached anew as he seated. There was much to be done before quarantine was lifted and contact re-established with society.

  "I've got two messages for you, sir," Sare said.

  "Send them over," Adrian muttered. He opened them and read.

  Commander Adrian Huxton,

  After extensive review of the damages received by Vindication, CVS-000001, the Admiralty Ministry of Finance has determined the cost of her repair outweighs the benefits. She will be decommissioned and struck from the roster. The ceremony will be at 2200 tomorrow, further details included within this message.

  Lord Grand Admiral and Order of the Rising Sun, Avarro Venko the Greater, Lord Paramount of the Anchorage and Honorable Commandant of Tollyon, CoP MS, GS.

  Weariness set over Adrian. Vindication was a relic of a lost era centuries dead, old enough that the admiralty could hand her off to a lowborn CO without humiliation. The clock ticked down on their companionship, forever. He opened the second note.

  Hey Dad,

  You're on the news! Broad-5 says you saved a planet. You wouldn't be coming home early unless your ship was banged up bad, I hope you're alright. Please be alright. Listen, I'm taking a flight to the Anchorage tomorrow, terminal 203D, 19:30 arrival time. I know you're tired and always hungry and busy, but I'd love it if you met me there.

  Love you,

  Alyssa Namieth-Huxton

  Adrian paused. How hard had he failed her that she worried he wouldn't even meet her off the shuttle? Fresh pain twisted in his chest. It was like arthritis, rotting muscle with every beat of his heart. He saved this message for himself, to remind him of his priorities tomorrow. The first message he forwarded to Amelie. She walked over and leaned in for private conference.

  "Do we tell the crew?"

  "Yes, make a formal announcement on the public feed ASAP." Bu sticking the news on every billboard, it was certain to filter off the ship, and hopefully into sympathetic ears. Vindication was a popular name amongst lowborn and nobility alike; she'd find someone who could step up and protect her.

  "Where's Vinny going from here?"

  Adrian knew the fate of most ships struck from the roster. Auction, accountant's pliers, then the scrapper's razors. Not fucking likely.

  "She ain’t being scrapped.” His hands clenched on defensive instinct.

  "We won’t let that happen. I know people."

  "So do I." He set about his paperwork with renewed energy. Tomorrow would be one final grind.

  #

  Chapter Two: Commander and XO

  Adrian performed his final sitrep. Quarantine was underway, the superstitious in the crew were performing their rituals, and Vindication was snug in her berth for the last time. Eyes heavy, he slipped out of the bridge and limped down the hydroponics-lined corridor to his cabin, alone at the end of officer country. He'd turned off his alarm for an overdue REM sleep.

  When he saw Amelie standing at his door, pretending to type on her comp, he postponed his plans.

  "Hey, Colonel. Aren't you packing up?

  "I've had two weeks to pack in between keeping Vinny alive. I've got a bit of time to spare." She pulled the gold clip from her bun and let her red mane cascade about her shoulders.

  Adrian checked over her shoulder, in case anyone was coming. She did the same for him. Then slipped his arm over her shoulder to grab a hand in the warm hair at the back of her head and pulled her in for a kiss.

  The atmosphere was cold and dry, to conserve power and moisture. Her warm, wet lips smiling against his were a treat. So was the shiver she made when he walked his other hand down her spine and patted her bottom.

  Eventually they broke up for breath, and he licked his lips while she eyed him hungrily. "It's been too long," she said.

  "Worth it," Adrian said. A couple ensigns hurried past, carrying briefcases, and he threw up the façade for a few more seconds. Sexual relations were inevitable during a ship’s long time in space so Adrian and most other COS’ turned a blind eye. Relationships between officers were a big protocol violation, potentially demotion-worthy. A lowborn officer having relations with a noble was guaranteed an emergency egress at the nearest port with a boot rammed up their rear. Possibly they’d have to fight a duel with the first sword of the offended noble house.

  "So, what's the plan for tomorrow?" Amelie said. She slipped a hand into his and gave it a gentle squeeze. Amelie was a treat. Affectionate and motherly, yet understanding that he needed his space from time to time. She was a torch in the darkness of deep space. And most important, Alyssa liked her.

  "I pick up my daughter, have my personal debriefing with Lord Admiral Venko the Lesser, then watch the decommissioning ceremony," Adrian said. He wasn't ready for this. He was trading his ship for his daughter, and what bothered him more than any enemy was that he wasn't comfortable with that trade.

  "We’ll be facing dignitaries that need handling with kiddie-gloves, and plenty of press hunting for interviews," Amelie said.

  "I trust my brilliant and incredibly beautiful XO to handle them while I pick up my VIP.” He tickled under her chin with his thumb. Four years, right? Yes, they’d been doing this for four years. That was his longest relationship by quite a bit. Maybe it was time for-

  "I know, I'm just making sure." She wrapped a hand in his curly hair and pulled him in for another kiss. Definitely time to think about marriage.

  Once behind the safety of his door, Adrian kicked off his boots and sighed with relief at the massage of his crimson shag carpet. He hung his jacket in the foyer closet, then stepped into his living room. Three walls were lined with faux-wooden bookcases he'd meticulously ordered by author and subject. The fourth housed a television, floor to ceiling. It was still paused on his breakfast viewing; a pre-recorded planetary-level crunchball game, between the Tollyon Paladins and Grahm’s Ironclad. As usual, Tollyon was losing.

  Vindication had been built by the Human Empire long before Jacob Hallard's great rebellion. The Imperials had liked comfort, and she had the most spacious crew accommodations in the fleet. Adrian stressed this whenever he could, and he let the gossip mill do the rest in building his old command into a coveted assignment.

  Amelie hung her own coat and sash atop his. She unbelted her rapier and placed it on the actual wood coffee table among the breakfast bar wrappers, knocking over a couple empty Betelgeuse Brew cans.

  "Sorry, I've had greater priorities the last couple weeks," Adrian muttered. He tossed the lot of them in the re-cycler, where they were broken down into cubes of their component elements and shipped via magna-
rail to the fabricators. He considered the beer, but instead grabbed a vodka bottle off the top shelf of his bookcase and took a swig.

  "That's not a problem," Amelie said. She snatched his hand and pulled him to the couch beside her, where she put an arm around his shoulders. "Love you."

  "Love you, too." He pictured the ring on her finger. Gold, laid with some gemstone over it.

  "So, how are you liking the return home?"

  "Feels good," Adrian said.

  The Wendago were marauders from every child's nightmare. They lived between stars in their O'Neill cylinder cities, waiting in the blackness. They'd made a habit of swooping out of Wild Space and raiding the trading port of Vykhor once a decade, snatching tens of thousands into slavery and lifting billions of credits in goods. This time, the Systems Armada would stop them. The admiralty had reinforced Vykhor with three capitol ship task groups under Lady Rear Admiral Hamilton.

  "You're going to be a hero when we dock," Amelie said. "Get ready to bask in the glow."

  "Really, I’mI'm just glad we won. We got lucky that Vindication had been posted in the rear, otherwise we would've died," Adrian said.

  The common spacer feared the Wendago as ghosts from the dark age, searching for living souls. They'd started Vykhor by adding to that cause. Instead of the usual 15 dragoons and a city ship, they'd brought 35 dragoons and three of their O'Neill cities. Lady Hamilton had ordered the withdrawal to Vykhor's defense grid. The Wendago, with their superior acceleration, had pursued and annihilated the lead two battle groups. Many survivors self-destructed their escape pods rather than endure humiliation and slavery. Radio broadcasts treated the entire Vykhor system to the screams of those that didn’t.

  "The Frozen Mother protects," Amelie said. There were a dozen chapels on Vindication dedicated to the System’s larger religions. On a 30-million-ton supercarrier, there was room for such luxuries.

  "When we were engaged, I didn’t notice a woman clad in ice on my bridge," Adrian said. He'd trembled in terror as the red signatures crawled straight at them, an unstoppable wall of doom accelerating and decelerating at far higher rates than anyone else's warships could manage without pulping their crews. Vykhor command had ordered the retreat to the planet, and the civilians began saying their goodbyes into their personal vlogs, adding to the terror until it'd been thicker than water.

  "You wish to challenge a goddess?" Amelie said. Her grin widened, not with contempt but sympathy.

  The Wendago were incredibly skilled spacers, but they still humans in clawed armor. Only Adrian saw through the myth and the fear, and only he knew their weaknesses. The Wendago didn't defend. They pursued and slaughtered. So, facing now 30 dragoons with one carrier group, he'd ordered full ahead, flank acceleration. Torpedoes out.

  "I remain undefeated in military matters," Adrian said. He patted her head with humorous chiding. The universe was too immense and complicated for there not to be some power hiding in the darkness between the stars, he knew that. And if he ever found it, he'd unleash Vindication's nuclear arsenal upon it.

  "Don't worry. I'll put in a good word for you when the trumpets sound." Amelie leaned in, mouth to ear, and whispered, "Mother respects the strong."

  17 hours later, Vindication had drifted alone at the center of a spreading cloud of debris.

  "She must love you," Adrian said. Amelie tickled him under his, which did nothing. He narrowed his eyes, then slipped his hand under her dress shirt and tickled her belly. She was doubled over giggling in seconds "Amy, you never win these," he said, with a smirk.

  "I know, but annoying you is the highlight of my day," she said. Adrian lunged forwards and got her under both arms. She collapsed into a scarlet-faced heap in his arms, and he slipped in for the kiss. They held each other for minutes that felt like hours, eyes shut so that the only sensory input they had was each other's bodies.

  Both their comps dinged. Sheepishly, Adrian released her and grabbed his.

  First and Second Wicked Creek fleets, possible hostilities reported in region. Set condition 3, maintain watches and be prepared to move at 24-hours notice

  Lord Grand Admiral Avarro Venko the Greater, Lord Paramount of the Anchorage and Honorable Commandant of Tollyon, CoP MS, GS.

  "Well, shit, something is going down," Adrian said. He mentally ran through the reasons for such a mobilization, affecting hundreds of warships, several million personnel, and a billion credits.

  "Maybe it's a surprise drill. Lord Venko the Greater loves his surprise drills," Amelie interrupted him. Avarro Venko was an exhilarating figure, the leading edge of tactical innovation in the Systems. From the capitol of Vulk to the furthers regions of wild space he led the charge against the System’s circling enemies. Adrian admired him as the best that the nobility had to offer, and possibly the most competent admiral in the Armada.

  "Maybe Emoche Hulle hired another Wendago tribe," Adrian said. Amelie shut his comp off.

  "Either way, it doesn't concern us," she said, and kissed him again.

  "Yeah." Adrian wasn’t into this one. Emoche's lone dragoon had fled the ruins of his hired tribe. Vindication had been too wounded to pursue. Adrian regretted letting him go, though he'd had no choice due to the condition of his ship. Warlords like Emoche didn't stop their destruction until they were dead; he'd be back.

  "So, where to from here?" Amelie said.

  "Long shore leave. Then I'm not sure what," Adrian said.

  "Another command?"

  "They aren't giving me one." Admiralty worked like politics. Every player from the fleet commanders to logistics techs wanted their piece of the action. He’d learned early on that getting anything done involved carving those pieces off one’s mission statement.

  He sighed and looked down at his comp, hoping she'd drop the subject. His policy had worked through years, until one day it didn’t. He’d survived the court martial but the Admiralty had made it abundantly clear he wasn’t welcome in their halls.

  "Did I tell you about my transfer?" Amelie said, taking the hint. She sat up so that they were eye-to-eye, noses brushing.

  "You're applying for an administrator's posting back in Volantis. How'd that go?" Adrian said. Amelie was a Colonel with an ancient ancestry in the nobility and four years of experience in a command role on a warship. That was as good a job prospect as she got.

  "I got the news on the latest flash drone. I did it! I've been assigned to be assistant undersecretary of the Great Burn Command, stationed on Volantis." She'd be 40 light years away; 15 days at maximum FTL speed.

  "Amazing, Amy. You're climbing that career ladder." The ache in his chest returned, but he smiled to hide his trepidation. He was losing someone else dear to him. Technically she wasn't lost forever; he'd taken Alyssa to visit one summer break two years ago and alternated days between skiing and skinny-dipping. But the distance was huge.

  "I've got to start making appointments with higher-ups and nobles," she said. "My father is the permanent treasurer of the Great Burn; he has a few friends in the fleet administration and political field. I’ll start with them." Officers needed connections to grease their career ladder. Not just connections, but an entire dossier of good work done both in the fleet and in the civilian world that they could use to justify being fit for the responsibility of command. Taking a desk job to build one's resume was called ticket-punching. Adrian had ticket-punched by teaching the kids of his superiors and associate politicians at Tollyon Green Academy. Despite not having a high school diploma, he’d done well.

  "Remember, politicians don't want to do things the right way. They want them their way," Adrian said. After retirement he planned to curl up in a nice library and write a rulebook on climbing the social-economic-military-political ranks. Or better, a vlog channel about military infrastructure. That'd make him good credits.

  "I know the rules. Don't worry, sir," she said with a wink. "Where are you going after this?"

  Adrian sighed. His knees ached, his limbs felt heavy. Vindication was
hanging it up. Maybe it was time for him, too.

  "I'm going to take a few weeks for Alyssa. I don't know after that.”

  "Desk job?"

  "Fuck no. I hate sitting still." A sadness flickered in Amelie's eyes, one that Adrian felt all over. There weren't any more obsolete supercarriers for him to master. "When do you have to go?"

  "I take command at my discretion." She kissed him. "So, I'm taking a month off, and the three of us are going to have some fun planet-side."

  "Oh, absolutely," Adrian said, and kissed her again. Warmth rushed through him at her acceptance, and his thoughts raced off to Tollyon's red beaches, where a family could savor a month on leave. "This will be special."

  "It better be. I'm delaying my career, after all." Her eyebrows narrowed into a V.

  "Getting your two favorite people alone for a month isn't enough?" Adrian said.

  "It's close, but just short of enough, I'm afraid," Amelie said, and kissed him ferociously. By unspoken consent they stood.

  Adrian undid her belt and let her twist out of her pants. Her pale legs shimmered in black tights. It was lovely how she wore them as underwear, they showed off every muscle in her legs perfectly, and accentuated their experience.

  Adrian dropped to his knees and leaned against her thighs. He kissed his way down to her crotch where her red fur tickled his face. She swayed on her face. Then he kissed his way back up, finishing with a swish of his tongue between her waiting lips. Her lips clamped down on his tongue, and held him in place for several exhilarating seconds. He had to tickle between her thighs to get her to release. Now his nose was filled with her vanilla perfume.

  "Whatever can I do to appease you?" he said. Amelie seized him by the shoulders and pinned him to the wall with a thud. She used one hand to hold him in place as she undid first his shirt, then hers, grinning wickedly all the while. Now his heavily tattooed skin pressed against hers, pale and freckled.

  "I want you to wear a pair of my tights under your pants tomorrow." She undid his own pants and pulled them down, then arched her back so her hips pressed to his. Adrian caught his breath, she had to bite her tongue.