Vindication

by Ken Wolfson

  Adrian killed the channel. His comp beeped as Zoey forwarded a fresh data packet to his personal address. He read its contents.

  "The first reports are coming in. Not that they need to be classified. The civilians are broadcasting on every medium they can," Amelie said. Adrian checked his Zyt account. The Volantene extranet was filled with tens of thousands of panicked posts, some from suddenly inactive accounts.

  "Pick a fleet report and show me," Adrian said.

  "On main screen."

  The ID ticker identified the POV ship as the fleet monitor Harden, SM1001230. A refugee convoy in the dozens streamed past, escorted by fleet destroyers and a couple BCs wearing some noble house’s pastel neon yellow banner.

  Blue warp points flared on the periphery. Dragoons tore through the convoy so fast the camera only caught their drive trails. Detonations followed in their wake. The soft civilian targets splattered under railgun fire, spilling wriggling insides int space. They deliberately ignored the military targets, who frantically fired into their wakes, hitting nothing.

  The Wendago flipped over and burned until they were accelerating back towards the convoy. Only now Adrian saw ten of the mismatched winged hulls, coolant stripes glowing red in the heat. The fleet warships formed up to answer, he counted about fifteen friendlies. Railguns flared across thousands of kilometers to invisible targets. Harden burned away, her COS correctly deducing that the scout and its pop-guns didn't belong in a real fight.

  15 defenders died in a matter of minutes. Vectors didn't matter; the Wendago effortlessly popped them one after another. The BCs died last, railgun fire closed down on them one by one, draining their barriers, then stripping their armor and pounding structure until they shattered into shrapnel.

  The feed ended, and some astronomical numbers scrolled across Adrian's comp. Silence fell on the bridge.

  "First Burn is rolling out,” Cage noted. “It begins.”

  #

  Chapter Thirty-Five: Worth Dying For

  Mayzon 29

  60th Day of the War

  Over the next week, Adrian climbed a wall in 5g. He felt the weight pressing into his soft bed every morning. His knees ached, but he didn’t let that slow him. And he felt the stares of his bloodied crew and terrified replacements as they worked overtime, agonizing as burning plasma applied directly to his skin. Yet he got up. He sent daily press releases to Johnathan, who had put his name to the private vloggers and public media. And he paced the ship, forever stoic, to give heart to his crew.

  "Bridge to Commander," his radio crackled.

  "Go ahead." He stepped out of the engineering compartment to dodge the din of thrumming reactors.

  "Serpentia-XO has requested permission to board and hold an audience with you." Serpentia was due to depart on maneuvers in 12 hours. Mirra hadn’t spoken with him since their arrival at Vervunder, except a curt thank you note for paying her crew’s salary.

  "Granted. Summon a fireteam to provide security." He ended the call. Just as quick he flattened himself to the wall to let a trio of yellow-clad engineers maneuver a maglev trolley past.

  “Sir!” they saluted.

  “Good work, carry on,” Adrian said, and returned it.

  Meironara’s dress shirt was as unbuttoned as ever. "Hey, Commander." He stood and saluted.

  "Hi." Adrian returned it, and sat down. "What can I do for you?"

  "Well, I wanted to apologize for not realizing that House Nessella was a trap. I had my connections and the contact of the Ministry chapter on Volantis, yet I assumed house Nessella was safe and didn't even run a basic survey. Amelie figured out there was a problem and notified me on her way back with a platoon. I could only confirm that Alastor had indeed pulled strings to get your carrier inspected."

  "Well, my physical harm was minimal, and I got a political connection directly loyal to me, so I suppose no harm done," Adrian lied, wishing Alyssa was still lost instead of gone forever.

  "I'm sorry about your girl." Adrian stopped short. "We take the people we're supposed to protect, and we break our backs trying to keep them safe. And then some fucker we never saw coming just takes them away. It's amazing, how one instant can shatter everything we lived for."

  "Yeah, it is, shadow," Adrian said, uncertain if he wanted to continue the conversation. Meironara lost his traditional smirk.

  "I've always found purpose in duty. Head down, do the job. It's enough."

  "It is, until your needs start itching," Adrian said. There was a longing in the way Roverra lingered on his words. "Who'd you lose, shadow?"

  "Well, I never had any adorable little buggers. I didn't want to deal with the whinging and constant care. However, I'm still human. I need my own little bit of tenderness. I loved a silly soldier boy from a backwater garrison, and then I lost him forever. My fuckup."

  He drew out a cigar and lit it up.

  "He's dead?"

  "Worse." He blew a perfect smoke ring across the table. "There are things worse than death, unfortunately."

  "I'm sorry," Adrian said. He disagreed with that, because until someone died they still had a chance at success, but he wasn't going to start the argument now. "I'm just trying to win this war. There's a lot of people going to die for Aly." He studied Meironara. Whose skeletons did the old spy have in his closet?

  "You think you can kill them all?" The shadow narrowed his eyebrows.

  "Hell yes. Burn them all."

  "And after?" Meironara read him like a book.

  "I secure Johnathan's position and let him rebuild the Systems. I’ve seen his policies and have an idea of his plan, and the people need him."

  “And you, personally?”

  “I’m going to retire, I don’t know what the fuck but I’ve got an education degree so there will be teaching and kids involved,” Adrian said. “Fuck the game, look what it did to House Nessalla.”

  "Good. Enough with the games.”

  Adrian cocked an eyebrow.

  "Being a spy is about lying. I lie about my life to my supposed friends and lover. I lie about my allegiances to diplomats who trust me, and I lie about my nature to myself. I’ve lived my life to play the intelligence game, loyal to no cause but power and true to nothing, not even myself. 70 years gone by now. I want to die for a worthwhile cause. And I thank you, Adrian, for you've given me that cause.”

  "I forbid you to die until you’re done, Major,” Adrian said. Molitor accepted the verbal handshake with a nod.

  "I can do that, Commander. I can do my job one more time. I'll consider this my consulting fee." He smirked; Adrian rolled his eyes.

  "Whatever makes you happy, old man."

  Meironara produced a data file. "Also, I figured you want explanation about the Major Gorden.”

  “Yes, I would like that immensely.”

  “She had to disown you to get her job. She learned to hate you, you know how it works.” Adrian nodded. “I wasn’t onboard with trying to betray you at Vervunder, but orders are orders. You intimidated her by facing down the entire 6th armada. You won her crew and intimidated her further by paying their salary.”

  “Does she hate me?”

  “No, but Major doesn’t like you either, for now,” Meironara said. “That’s all I got. Do you need anything more?”

  "Yes. Any intel from Emoche?”

  “One thing.” He handed over a message. “Flash drone. Intercepted approaching Varium by a frigate and turned over to the Ministry. All the players will be getting this.

  My dearest Queen Mibali of Varium, the cradle of humanity. Our revolution moves towards the Great Burn and the Systems recedes before it. I have a proposition for you and your planet.

  In order to wipe away the old order, we must remove all traces of the Empire. This includes Volantis; the artificial control on the Burn. I offer to make Varium my regional capitol in return for your allegiance. Consider this offer and answer soon, for it has been sent to the other original kingdoms.

  Emoche Hulle

 
“Thank you,” Adrian said. Already gears ticked in his mind as he pondered the implications of that order. Johnathan would need to know. “Dismissed, Shadow.”

  “Aye Commander, good luck.”

  #

  Chapter Thirty-Six: War Council

  Rango slipped their dropship between traffic control beacons with a smooth touch. Their escort Furies effortlessly matched the lumbering craft's maneuvers. Every damn fleet ship was in orbit prepping for the big deployment. With them came thousands of planet-hopping tenders providing last-minute supplies and…other services as a beer tanker swerved into their flight path.

  "We're taking a long route," Adrian noted from the rear. He and Alenkot road alone.

  "Sorry, sir. A commercial freighter collided with a battlecruiser about an hour ago, and CONOR's re-routed all traffic to a higher orbital while they clean up the mess," Vendetta said.

  Adrian winced. "Casualties?"

  "The civvy was a total loss and the BC took structural damage. She's out of the fight." There'd be a criminal investigation per procedure. Commercial captains varied in competence, but even in the cluttered Volantene orbitals that skipper would've had to have been aiming to hit the battlecruiser. He probably hadn't acted solo; there'd be an entire sleeper network behind him giving orders. Just like Tollyon.

  Focus. Adrian re-read the contents of Johnathan's message.

  He'd be the only officer below rear admiral present.

  You're not supposed to be here, he reminded himself. You're supposed to be in prison or shanked; you're not supposed to be here.

  #1 briefing room's entrance was guarded by four troopers, and a few dozen nobility in multicolor garb. Swords in dragonplate embossed with impractical designs postured to each other. Young squires in jumpsuits, not contractually obligated to look menacing, chatted quietly between them. There were precious few armada squires at their own war meeting.

  They saw him and fell silent. Those disapproving stares came out, a mixture of disgust and fear aimed down the bridge of their noses. The sea parted before him.

  Adrian didn't thank them. He looked about but saw no sign of Johnathan. He spotted Elle off on her own. She waved. "First-Sergeant, represent Vindication," Adrian said.

  "Yes, sir," Alenkot said, and sidled over to Elle. Adrian opened the door himself.

  The cream of the Burn's admiralty sat down the length of a long table. At the head was Johnthan, the Lord Governor and therefore highest ranked official. Nobles and politicians sat down his left, and the dour fleet officers on his left.

  Immediately on his left hand was a tall Volantene with snow-white skin and platinum hair. She wore a crimson business dress and shining white tights around her slim legs. No lifting there. Her hair was up in a bun, wrapped about the leather hilt of an ancient Volantene hunting knife. This was Ila Bravos, had to be. Adrian had done the homework, seen her career starting with graduating top of prestigious Vulk U's class, and climbing the political ladder. He'd read about lots of potentially crooked business deals and a few scandals. Now here she was.

  On Johnathan's right was a slim man with olive skin and a cleanshaven face. A scar ran up his neck the length of his jugular and ended below his right eye. He wore a saber instead of the usual rapier, its hilt engraved with gold. Adrian didn't need to see the six Crimson bars and red skull on his lapels or the black slashed marked with the ribbons of several esteemed orders to recognize Lord Admiral Horace Nelson, the Serpentian Slayer and commander of the Burn.

  "Hello, Commander Adrian Huxton reporting," Adrian said and saluted. The nobility and officers murmured contempt up and down the table. This was pissing a lot of players off. It was worth it, after what Johnathan showed him, Adrian would violate any protocol to help that dream for the Systems succeed.

  Johnathan waved.He pointed to the far end of the table. Adrian saw a chair available on either side. None of the servants orbiting the perimeter moved to help him seat.

  "He should kneel like the other officers," a Lady midway down the table muttered. Several on either side nodded.

  "Welcome, Anvil. We have need of your expertise," Lady Vice Admiral Velda Silver said from two spaces down. Adrian nodded at her.

  "Do we?" a Lord with a waist-length white beard said.

  "Absolutely, Lord Dukal. Adrian has fought the Wendago more than any man or woman in the room save yourself. He's also faced Emoche Hulle and lived," Johnathan said. So that was the Lord Devos Dukal, the great raider and commander of House Dukal Raiders, the only force capable of meeting the Wendago in open combat. Not winning, because there were a few thousand dragoons versus a dozen raiders, but meet them in open combat.

  "Then he should submit a report," Ila said. Her voice was smooth and perfectly present, brimming with confidence from a leader who knew they were on top. "We've called this meeting for esteemed leadership; those nobility who have the experience in such military matters both privately, and as the highest officers of the armada. We have the highest education possible, and the natural maturity from our bloodline. We are detached from worldly concerns by our status and therefore are the only people in Volantis with the perspective and wisdom to handle the matter at hand. This is why we trust the nobility in leadership. The presence of a lowborn Commander both undermines the effectiveness of us as a whole, and insults every one of us. Adrian should be polite and decline the invitation." Near everyone muttered in agreement.

  "He should leave at once," Dukal said.

  "I've got the same invitation you did, Lord Dukal," Adrian said. The old Lord's face reddened. Adrian bit down on his tongue, lest he find a new way to fuck his family over.

  "Johnathan is playing the populist game by bringing in a minor celebrity. I'm sorry you got caught up in the game," Ila said. She gave Adrian a sweet smile that he saw straight through.

  "Our Lord Governor extended an invitation. I chose to accept; I want to be here right now. Now, 6G and 1B fleets depart in twelve hours. Some of us need to be underway," Adrian said. The smile became a terrific glare. Adrian smiled back, then fixated on Lord Nelson.

  "Let him stay, though it goes against my better judgment," Nelson said. "We're near the desperation threshold."

  The meeting continued. They went through the reports on fleet strength, logistics, and funding. Adrian remained silent throughout. An hour ticked by, and they moved on to combat strategy. Horatio gave the briefing.

  "Let's start with the side advantages. Emoche has a swarm of estimated 200 Wendago Dragoons, reinforcements imminent, higher morale, and possible sleeper cells; Capitol ship numbers are equal, but he has more undamaged. We have giant sentry batteries protecting every planet. And defeat is not an option."

  He stared down every noble and officer in the room.

  "If Emoche takes Volantis, the Burn is wide open. There's more than that, Lord Governor?"

  "Emoche's been sending offers to the other six original kingdoms, offering them the regional seat if they surrender. None have folded, but if Volantis falls, one of them just might," Johnathan said.

  "Exactly. Doom and destruction that could cascade through the systems. This is, in fact, the decisive battle." His words hung heavy in the fear-soiled air. "Now, of course we must maximize our advantages. We're going to turn this system into our own bloody little Grahm. With the Wendago, Emoche will heavily invest the orbital lanes. So we'll use the sentry guns to keep his ships at arm's length, while our superior carrier wing pounds them from beyond their range, hit their logistics, and screen the Wendago. The blues will need to assault every fortification one by one."

  Adrian liked it, as far as defense went. There was no way to truly defend against the Wendago, but this was as effective a plan as they could get.

  "We need to keep partial control of the orbitals. If reinforcements are impossible, Emoche will isolate and pick this system off station by station, finishing with Mother Volantis herself," Dukal said.

  "Your raiders will be needed for that. Without them we'll have no counter to the Wend
ago," Horace said with a smile. The discussion continued for the next hour.

  "I don't like this strategy. Civilian casualties will be in the tens of millions, no?" Ila said.

  "Could be hundreds, depending on how much falling debris CONOR can catch," Dukal said. The major cities had barrier domes hooked up to geothermal plants, but those had limitations.

  “That’s excessive, the people will panic when they realize it,” she said.

  “That’s war, and in case you’ve forgotten, but we fought the cold itself for a thousand years before the soft Imperials showed up.”

  "And is CONOR secure? The MoI is useless, and I don't trust anyone who hasn't been vetted," Silver said. Several muttered in disapproval on the admiralty side.

  "I saw the logs from Vervunder. Everyone has been vetted," Horace said. "Perhaps Commander Huxton can contribute further to our understanding of the onslaught to come?"

  "You're underestimating the Wendago presence. I saw Wendago from two tribes at IPX-88: the Molverra and the Kyrios. There were elements of three more tribes at Vervunder. Now there's a sixth tribe on the jump shelf," Adrian jumped in. "That makes six tribes at least we'll be facing—more, potentially."

  "Emoche couldn't afford six tribes. I know the Wendago's price," Dukal said. "It's not just money, it's opportunity they're after. Intel says Emoche doesn't want them taking slaves, which is the whole reason they'd attack us to begin with. So they won't have an opportunity, and Emoche definitely won't have the money."

  "Maybe his backers can," Johnathan said. Adrian nodded at him.

  "Backers?"

  "Intel indicates Emoche has carte blanche from several corporate entities up to and including the Vytech industrial group and Umbar Combine. The intel reports are on your desk," Johnathan said.

  "A corporate entity wouldn't have the gall to interfere with us," Dukal declared.

  "Wouldn’t they? We wouldn't be the first nation the non-state players have dug their claws into. Just the largest," Johnathan said. Adrian nodded along vigorously, for emphasis. He didn’t know much of the issue. Only that some of the interstellar corporations like Firestorm were everywhere.