by Ken Wolfson
"She'll be angry at first, but in good time she'll soften and understand. It's not too late for her to learn to play the game," he said.
"And you still don’t understand her. She can barely stand you twenty years after you hung her out to dry. If you reach your hands into her life again, she'll despise you forever," Adrian said. Alastor shook his head furiously to dispel reality. "Wait till she finds out you're abandoning her daughter, too."
Alastor stiffened, then motioned to the door. A servant girl emerged, and handed him something.
Alastor held it before Adrian. It was a jacket. Black, with a red seal, Vindication-0000001 Victory justifies our means. Bullet hole through the center of the logo, stained with dried blood.
"No.”
"Irate Gentleman was intercepted by a customs team upon her docking. The Hullen searched for anyone with a fleet background, and after their victory they were bloodthirsty," Alastor said as he dropped it in Adrian's lap.
Adrian slumped in his chair. He couldn't stand the logo staring back up at him, so he shut his eyes.
Aly, I'd say I'm sorry, but that would never make this right. You were the most beautiful thing in the universe, and that's why it killed you.
His plans evaporated before his eyes as the map was thrown in the fire. What the fuck was the point of continuing if he was completely incapable of protecting the people he loved? What did the war matter when his daughter was dead?
"You're fighting for a lost objective. And you won't give up your grudge with the Wendago. You're dead weight, and I'm cutting you loose," Alastor said. "Here."
A radio crackled.
"Hello, Adrian," Tarly said.
"You're in-system?" Adrian said.
"I’ll be in-person real soon. We're going to have a talk. I didn’t appreciate you carving up my sword.”
Adrian shook his head.
"I'm done."
"Yes, you are," Tarly said. "See you soon." She ended the connection.
"Farewell, Adrian," Alastor said. Adrian heard footsteps in the dark, then door creak shut.
#
Chapter Thirty-Two: What Lies Beneath
"Adrian."
Alastor prodded him with his boot. Adrian opened his eyes. A ragged bullet hole stared back at him, ringed brown with blood. He looked up and saw Alastor's sympathetic face. "Time to go, son. There's a dropship landed here."
Adrian felt the chair back fold away beneath him. He stood, and his aching knees held. A trooper in blue armor flanked Alastor on either side. Both wore Lieutenants’ chevrons.
"Come on, you worm." A trooper grabbed either shoulder.
"Weren't we once comrades?" Adrian muttered.
"We were, before Emoche showed us the truth," the woman said. The man buried an elbow in Adrian's back. He winced as his breath left his lungs.
"No bruises. Emoche wants him intact," the woman scolded.
"I thought Lady Artreyas wanted him?" Alastor said.
"She does, but she must hand him over to Emoche. Adrian has caused the prophet much hardship, and will be personally punished. Don't worry. Your deal doesn't change; the Prophet is the most honorable of all."
Adrian let them lead him towards the door. As they did, he caught his breath. The troopers were on either flank. Rapiers at their right hips. Sidearms with subsonic rounds holstered on their left. He could tell by their bulbous suppressor barrels. They wouldn't penetrate reinforced tissue paper, much less his sheath armor. And troopers were taught to aim center mass, not for the head.
What was he doing? There wasn't a point; Aly was dead. Amelie? He didn't know whose side she was on, but no matter what happened, it wouldn't be his. Alyssa was dead. What was the point?
Alastor put a finger to his ear. "Yes? Oh...I'll be right there." He walked out the room. Adrian was dragged after him.
He stomped down on the left trooper’s foot, crushing toes beneath his heel. With one delayed he spun on the other and kneed her in the groin as she drew. He spun back around as the man leapt up with his sidearm drawn. Two rounds pounded his chest like sledgehammers before he gut punched the oathbreaker so hard he felt the spine through his belly. He squeaked and doubled over for the last time. The other was on her knees, trying to draw her own sidearm
Alastor burst through the door with two more blues to find Adrian with gladius in hand, two corpses at his feet. "Fuck," he said. Gunfire rang out somewhere in the pyramid.
"Here's to spite, old man," Adrian said, and leveled his gladius. Alastor drew a revolver.
"This ain't a popgun," he said, and aimed for Adrian's head.
"I believe you," Adrian said, and advanced. He had nothing left to protect, and he didn't surrender. There was a roar, and his vision blurred. Bells rang in his ears.
"That was a warning shot, son," Alastor said, and adjusted. "Next one takes your head."
Adrian shook out the stars, and advanced.
Amelie came through the door behind Alator, back in uniform and covered in blood. Without hesitation she buried her rapier through the back of a blue's neck, where his armor was weakest at the joint. The second trooper spun and locked blades. After two cuts, Amelie riposted under his guard and into his armpit joint, then as he reeled drew her own sidearm and added three eye-holes in his visor. Alastor spun around. He realized who he was aiming at and pointed his pistol into the ceiling.
“Father, what have you done?” Amelie said. She wiped the blood from her sword and holstered it.
"It’s been a long day, but sunset approaches. I’ve saved our family from the coming storm,” Alastor drew himself up to his full height, towering over Adrian. “Trust me on this. So many people are going to die, but we won’t be among them.
“"When I saw the Hullen dropship, I thought they'd killed you and Mum," Amelie said. Amelie let out a sigh; Adrian saw betrayal flicker in her eyes. For a minute, he knew she'd do it, same as Molitor. People were only so... "It would've been better that way." She ripped the sidearm from Alastor's fingers, then pressed her sword to his throat.
Alastor shook his head. "Oh Amelie, I wish I'd taught you the ways of politics when you were young. You're so brilliant, and you had so much potential."
"You taught me all I needed about the game when you told me to go back to Ivar Nephalos," Amelie said. She cuffed him with her own set of liqui-cuffs. Alastor's heart broke; tears glittered in his eyes.
"That was decades ago."
"I know. I grew up and learned to be a better. You haven't changed." She shoved him away.
The old man collapsed to his knees. The tower came crashing down.
Adrian approached. Something ironic rose to his lips, and died away. What was the point?
Two troopers burst through the door, gladii out. Their black armor was splattered with someone else's blood.
"30 tangos accounted for. That's a full dropship," Alenkot said through that skull balaclava. He looked between Commander and Colonel. "Orders?"
"Get him out of my sight," Amelie said.
The room emptied, leaving them alone. Amelie looked at Adrian for the first time.
There were tears in her eyes. She raised her arms and approached. Adrian turned his back on her and returned to his chair. Aly's jacket slipped through his fingers, soft lining but heavy in weight.
Amelie clapped her hands over her mouth. "Our little lady. Did Dad..."
"No, he found her on Vervunder. When we were separated I told her to ditch this jacket and anything that looks like fleet gear, because the blues would be looking for loyalists." He slipped his hand into the inside chest pocket and grasped two cold metal objects.
"She'd never give that up," Amelie said. Adrian withdrew his hand and opened. His rank pins stared back at him. "Oh, Aly." She threw her arms around his shoulders. Adrian let her squeeze him tight for long minutes.
"We need to go, notify CONOR that Righteous and Tarly are in-system. There could be more blues," He removed his current rank pins, and popped the old ones on. Identical look, differe
nt feel.
"You can go. I've got to get into the archive room and confirm myself as heir. The moment the treason charge lands my siblings will be notified," she said. She paused, but Adrian didn't have a reply. "Go on, love. I'll be up with you shortly." A warm bed and vodka bottle cried out to him. Louder voices disagreed. He had duty to her.
"I’ll come with you, we’ll drop a flash drone." He slipped his hand into hers.
Court was held at the Vault’s summit. Two cushioned thrones sat on an elevated platform so visitors had to stand beneath the Lord and Lady Nessella. Through the slanted glass walls the sky was turning from black to grey, while a orange flickered from the burning wreck on the landing pad.
"Any traps, ma'am?" Alenkot said.
"No, I’ve memorized every corner in this house," Amelie said. She stepped before the throne, tugging Adrian with her.
"Ready?" Adrian said.
"I never wanted. I wanted to feast my family on my flagship when I made Commander. Make them climb to me. We can't get what we want," she said. She raised her comp and accessed the family network. "House Nessella, status?"
A spotlight shined on her from above.
"Warning, executive level decisions cannot be authorized without a designated head of house," a computerized female voice said. "There are six candidates with correct blood-relation to the previous head, Alastor Nessella. Four fit the appropriate legal parameters. Do you wish to view the list?"
"That's not necessary. I am Colonel Lady Amelie Nessella, eldest child of Alastor Nessella," Amelie said.
"This connection is made in blood. Approach the throne and place your hand on the right hand-rest."
Amelie slipped from Adrian's grip and did so. A glinting needle poked through her palm. It retracted, and Amelie expelled a rasping sigh.
"Identity confirmed. You have now been titled Lady Colonel Amelie Nessella, scion of House Nessella, twenty-third of the title. Blood and Platinum. Do you want to format a press release?"
“Hold that for now, I need to see the administrative function.” Amelie sat on the throne and closed her eyes. She was impossibly proud, sitting tall atop the fancy chair.
"All administrative functions are yours, and all dependency positions have been cleared. Would you like to designate a Lord consort, a first sword, or a House accountant?"
"No. Show me the Minister of Treasury’s budget,” Amelie said. She reached out for Adrian. He came forwards and took her hand, then—with her nod—seated himself in the second throne. The chair molded around him like a fluid membrane, soft and warm as a pur pelt. Some kind of memory fabric imitating a snowbeast pelt. It was the most comfortable chair he'd ever sat in, yet his knees ached as horribly as ever.
“Are those the house finances?” he said as digits flowed across the screen.
“All our personal accounts, plus business deposits, material asset evaluations, share assets, and responsibilities. Including the treasury.” Despite the situation, her eyes lit up at the sight of mathematics.
“That’s a lot of math?”
“And I’m going to audit it.”
“Right, forgot you’re a CPA.”
Amelie confirmed the budget. "It's done," she finally said with great weariness. "Now we can go home."
#
Chapter Thirty-Three: Believe
Mayzon 19
50th Day of the War
"I'm sorry." Adrian hung Aly's jacket across two pegs opposite his bed, for an angry reminder every dawn cycle. It smelled of rust. He slipped his finger through the bullet hole and scratched her dried blood. Dead center of the logo, deliberately aimed by a blue with an ironic sense of humor. Firing squad. She'd had time to process what was happening as she was dragged out of the crowd by leering officers in blue. Had time to beg for her life as she was slammed into a wall and her hands tied behind her back. Had time to wish he'd come back for her. He drank from his half-empty vodka bottle.
Without her, he was hollow. A machine
He pushed the jacket aside and pressed his bare palm to bare hull plate. Vindication thrummed beneath his fingers. With every vibration she spoke to him, from the baritone pulse of her reactors the chatter of thousands of boots stepping on her titanium corridors. His heart pounded in time. It was a perfect fit.
Amelie took his shoulder. “What now?”
"I have a duty to a supercarrier and a crew.” He finished the vodka. “I will avenge Alyssa by burning Emoche’s cult to the ground.”
"We," she corrected him. She drew her rapier and wiped the blood on her jacket. "They killed our daughter in cold blood. She was a young girl; she should have been given shelter and fed and cared for, and they murdered her." The blade returned to its sheath with a thunk.
"You're right. She was our daughter," Adrian said, taking comfort in the statement one more time. "And we will make the blues howl."
Back in the kitchen, he finished his vodka bottle and found another. Amelie snatched at it, but his grip was strong.
"How's the family thing?"
"Mom was in on it. She's in the same cell as Dad. Their lawyers are all over this, claiming it was a setup by me and you and maybe the Lord Governor, but it’ll be weeks until we go to court. I've been busy cutting out every one of their close supporters from the house hierarchy." She sniffled, then tried to hide it by gritting her teeth.
"I must apologize for something. I thought you were going to side with them," Adrian said.
“It’s alright,” she patted his shoulder again.
“How’s head of house shaping up?”
“Good. I’ve removed most of their old guard and moved up people who are either new or I trust. Taking account of everything is going to be a bitch, even with delegation.” She sighed and ran her hands through her hair.
His comp beeped. It was a special triple-tone he'd installed for messages from the Lord Governor's office.
Cmdr Huxton. I heard there was an incident at the Nessella holdings. I am glad to know you're alive. I must introduce you in person to the overall Commander of the Volantis defense. Protector of The Metropolis and Order of the Chosen, Lord Grand Admiral Horace Nelson of the Legendary House Nelson, the Golden Sword, The Crusher of Serpents, Burning Cavalryman, SoP, VoS. He is holding a tactical meeting between the admiralty and Nobility in his personal briefing room on Junes the 1st at 2100. I'm putting your name on the invitation list. I trust you have much insight to offer on fighting the Wendago and Emoche Hulle. While we don't need to kiss on the lips, I expect you to demonstrate our alliance.
Lord Governor Johnathan Travere.
Adrian forwarded the message to his staff. Then he shut down his comp altogether.
"The keeps on rolling," Amelie said.
"No, it doesn't." He took another drink. "We've got two days. I'm getting some sleep, if you want to join."
#
Chapter Thirty-Four: Warframe
Mayzon 22
53rd Day of the War
Alarms dragged Adrian from shallow slumber. Klaxon, single blast: condition two readiness.
He sat upright in bed. Alyssa's jacket stared back at him.
Adrian gritted his teeth and grabbed his comp. "Actual to bridge, sitrep?"
"Commander, Wendago have been detected at the jump shelf. SYSCOM sounded the system-wide alert," Major Winchestor said.
"Copy. I'll be on shortly." Adrian threw his uniform on.
He met Amelie in the corridor and they walked to the bridge under a silent accord, with all the communication done in her worried look and his shrug. As fleet doctrine dictated, once a ship was put into dry dock for repairs, it was kept in dry dock until repairs were completed. This prevented weak links in the formation and conserved assets. The only exception was when the unofficial desperation threshold had been crossed. If Vindication was getting called up, either someone in the admiralty had panicked, or Volantis was at the dawn of a very bad day.
They were the second and third officers on the bridge. Zoey was at her station, hoodie
over her fleet uniform and bleary-eyed alarm on her face.
"Captain-Brevet, report," Adrian said. He found his console stripped to the solid-state internals by maintenance.
"SYSCOM ordered all ships and personnel of the fleet, the PDF, and the noble houses put on condition two, regardless of status. Sixth command confirmed this," Zoey said. She tore off the sweater.
"Do you mean command as in Rear Admiral Lady Silver, or an actual higher office of system command?" Adrian said.
"The order was signed by Lord Admiral Lord Horace Nelson himself, ID number 7071280," Zoey said.
"Acknowledged. Notify Sixth Gehenna command that Vindication is powering up and available if needed," Adrian said.
The engineering line rang. "Engineering, bridge, go ahead," he said.
"Adrian, I don't know who gave the order, but we're not ready for fleet combat. We've just gotten done stripping the burnt-out components from the barrier generators. It'll be two weeks before they're ready for use,” Ravin said.
"Our orders are legal orders. You will make Vinny ready for combat and I'll obey the orders to the maximum limit that it keeps us from the line of fire. Copy?" Adrian said. The rest of their complement was pouring through the bulkhead. They reeked of sweat, vomit, and last night-cycle's alcohol, and moved with matching lethargy.
"Copy," Ravin said, and hung up. Adrian grimaced at their pace.
"Move your asses. Act like you care about the lives of your comrades and your own!" Amelie's voice cracked a whip overhead. The officers doubled their pace. TACNET and the remaining displays came online. Vindication spun up to readiness.
"Sir, fleet command channel is ready," Zoey said.
"In my earpiece," Adrian said. Static crackled through his brain.
"This was a readiness test by SYSCOM. I repeat, this was a readiness test," Rear Admiral Lady Silver said. " Hullen outriders have arrived at the jump shelf, and skirmishing is underway. All combat capable ships are to finish replenishing and be underway at the form-up point in twelve hours, all Tac-nulls will continue repairing, and notify my staff when you reach combat readiness. 6COM out."