by Ken Wolfson
“I was busy keeping my government together.”
"Fucking poor communication kills everyone," Adrian spat. The tension was gone, drained by mutual loathing of their mistakes.
“It does.” Johnathan changed channel back to the street violence. A collision in one of the lower orbits had shut down Hybera Anchorage for an estimated week while CONOR tugs cleaned up the wreckage and avoided kepler syndrome. The people already in anchorage were refusing to evacuate and get on line at another anchorage, even though overcrowding was pressing life support to critical levels.
“I spoke to Lady Bravos,” Adrian said. He grimaced at the experience.
“Did she rip out your soul and bitchslap you with it?” Johnathan said.
“Yes.”
“She does that, most politicians at this level are capable that but Ila’s one of the best.” Johnathan winked playfully, which only made the pain worse.
Adrian slipped his fingers into his messenger pocket, and withdrew Alyssa's photo. The selfie she'd taken in the lobby at the anchorage. He slipped it across the table.
"Beautiful girl. She looks just like..." Johnathan's mouth fell open.
"Her name was Alyssa, and she was fourteen, and she wanted to be a fashion designer. And the blues shot her because she was wearing a Vindication printed jacket.” He returned the picture to its protected pocket. He felt vulnerable opening up the Lord Governor like that, revealing his weak spots to someone he didn't trust.
"Adrian. My ally." Johnathan's demeanor morphed into the soft expression of a caring therapist. Adrian was uneasy with how fast he transitioned from anger to sympathy. "I know it hurts more than anything else to lose your child, but listen to me. A billion people looking up in the sky to us to save them. Take a breath, put your rage aside, and focus on the greater good of winning this war."
"What are you fighting for? I'm sure you could make a fine deal with them, like Lord Nessella tried to do,”" Adrian said.
“You’re insulting me with your rhetoric.”
“Answer the question, because you’re sounding like another politician.” Adrian grabbed his trench coat to leave.
Johnathan surprised him by turning his back to the challenge. "This way. We're going outside."
Adrian followed him onto the balcony. The cold wind shocked him, but after hours of stuffy meetings the bitter Volantene night was a relief. The storm had long dissipated and a rare clear night sky shown through. Primary sprawled out across the mountains in a twinkling grid of multicolor lights underneath the glowing orbs of all four moons The orbital grid crossed the sky like another road network, shielding the moons on high from the plan. His mouth fell open, stunned. This was true man-made beauty.
"My father was a pit fighter in the tomb city of Ariaka, the capitol of Varium. He was sponsored by a minor noble family living in the lower levels. His exploits in the arena won them fame and fortune, enough to move them to the top levels of the city. In reward they gave him their youngest daughter's hand in marriage.” Despite his shivering, Johnathan unbuttoned the top of his jacket and pulled out a necklace of beads worked in real silver. Dangling at the end was a black pendant modelled after a roaring beast. It drank in the light like a relic blade. “The wedding ceremony in a storage cellar; there was no feast with offerings from their friends’ farms, or week-long party. As you well know, in the Empire, marriage between lowborn and nobility was prohibited. And it's still prohibited in most of the other human nations," Johnathan said.
“Poor you,” Adrian said.
He gave Adrian a playful wink, and continued. "My father was wealthy enough to hide from the war, but he went out to fight for his love and his ascendancy, and died in the battle of Varium. I was twelve. I came here for work, and interned at a think tank. I worked my way into politics as a public defender and rose to where I am now, just like my father had risen before me. My children will enjoy the life I earned for them. This wouldn't have been possible in the Empire. You wouldn't be a Commander; I wouldn't be a Lord Governor. That was what Hallard's dream was 40 years ago."
Adrian understood the Lord Governor’s goals were, and while he despised the game he played, he understood why he played it.
"In defense of our dreams." He recited the famous last lines of the Code.
"Exactly," Johnathan said. "I don't need a friend, there are no true friends in politics. I need an ally who I can trust, and you need an ally. Okay? I've got a shipment of Jotunn-III fighter-bombers fresh off a federal shipping container if you're interested." He threw in the bribe. Adrian almost chuckled at the routine nature of the move.
"I'm still here. What else do you need?" Light flared over his shoulder. A frigate leapt off a mountain top and powered into space.
"Safeguard the treasury for me. We need our war chest on lockdown."
"Lady Colonel Nessella stands strong." Adrian smiled at him.
"I mean guard it. In the event of a defeat, the treasury cannot fall into enemy hands. It will power Emoche’s war for years, long enough to take all the jewel worlds."
"Isn't there a special service for that?" Adrian said.
"No, we'd need a noble house to move it. The feds aren't allowed to handle the platinum by law. Checks and balances," Johnathan said.
"How much platinum are we talking about?" Adrian said.
"10,500 tons, plus 50,000 tons of gold and various treasures, including an Imperial map of the burn," Johnathan said. He grinned with pride. The jovial man was back.
"And you want to stuff it in Vindication?" Adrian said. He did some snap calculations based on shipping, security, and thrust-mass ratios after adding literal tons of precious metals in the main cargo hold. "It can be done. The practical problem is logistics. Either we load it before Vindication deploys, and then risk losing it in combat, or we wait until the battle is lost, in which case there won't be enough time."
"I see treasure fever can infect anyone. Do you have a plan, then?" Johnathan wrung his hands. The wind picked up, shredding Adrian to the bone. He grimaced but held on.
"I've got another ship that can carry the load. And I trust her XO, at least." Already his fingers were going numb; his gloves weren’t lined for the cold like Johnathan’s fleece mitts.
"Very good. Put your people in contact, then," Johnathan said. He lit a cigar, a pinprick of red on the dark balcony. "Oh, and I'm going to be putting your face on the extranet. My pollsters suggest you'll make a positive impact with both the common folk on the street, and the people in power. Which matters a lot."
“Am I famous all the way out here?” Adrian said.
“Yes, very famous in the most important planet in the Expanse. One of those energy drink billboards sits on Mount Evellia overlooking the Aventine Quarter. My son asked me about the Hammer and the Anvil last year.” Wow, he really had made it. From the bottom to the top of Volantis. Would he be recognized if he went shopping in the streets? Maybe after the fighting stopped.
His comp buzzed.
Mass egressions at the jump shelf. TACNET scans indicate extinction-level Wendago deployment. All available ships to arms
Lord Admiral of the Burn, Order of the Chosen Horace Nelson, SoP, MS, GS, the First of Warriors, the Redeemer.
“It’s beginning,” Adrian said. He returned inside, rubbing the feeling back into his fingers.
“Well, then good luck Commander,” Johnathan said. “I suppose no matter what we do, it all comes down to this.”
“Try not to die before those Jotunns reach my hangar deck," Adrian said.
"Humorous," Johnathan said. The news anchor on screen was screaming about something in space.
#
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Countdown to War
Adrian lounged on the number one hangar deck in a lawn chair, sipping a beer while the deck crews inspected their new toys. The Jotunn-III was the most advanced fighter in this part of the galaxy. They'd been contracted from Venetian Engineering by the Talwar Combine 40 years ago for use by humans and humanoid aliens.
Built with more firepower and power-grid efficiency than the IIs, they’d served admirably in border skirmishes and long-range pirate hunts. A year ago, the Talwar had sold the remaining hulls to the Systems, who’d contracted Europa Yards to strip the alien components and had just begun shipping them over.
"These babies will give us a hell of a punch," Jamie said. She stood beside Adrian, watching her pilots run pre-flight tests. The Jotunns were slumbering beasts, engines purring in sleep cycles, powered by eight standard fusion batteries that could be plugged in an recharged no problem. The shakedown flights wouldn't come until Vindication left dry dock, so they were collecting as much dry data as they good. "Look at those big boys, that’s some hammer power." She pointed at the forest of autocannon protruding along the leading edge of the boomerang.
"How much heat?" Adrian said. He leaned in to see for himself. Jamie wasn’t getting this excited unless there was a lot of firepower involved.
"Four 40mm guns, same as the last batch. We also get a new 125mm cannon right under the cockpit, for shooting the shit out of hostiles. And a decoy launcher on the port wing." She pointed each out with her lit cigarette. The 125 was new. Talwar pilots had loved to strafe opposing ships after their torp runs, and the Talwar had adjusted in the mark IIIs with more cannon. The secondhand Systems pilots had loved this.
"Well, then how would you like CQB with some dragoons?" Adrian said. "Point blank, cannon to cannon like a blood duel?"
"They're weak on barriers in the stern. The trick is to get on their tail like an atmospheric duel and shoot up those over-sized plasma drives. With only the 40s we don't have enough firepower to kill them before they get a bead in return. But when you add the big guns, it might be enough," she said. "This will be fun."
"So, yes," Adrian said.
"Yes, as in, I'll marry you for these," Jamie said.
"Just don't miss," Adrian said.
"I don't miss," Jamie said, then strutted forwards and claimed the next III for herself. "This puppy is mine," she said, pushing a couple of disappointed pilots away. Then she leapt in the cockpit and powered up the fusion cells. The deck crew got their diagnostic sensors attached and began their mark I eyeball examination.
An hour later Adrian was in his office, on the radio. "Arr, matey," Meironara said. "We be space pirates now, out for booty. Fetch me my spyglass, I spy a prize on the horizon."
"You're serious." Mirra provided a more serious response.
"I'm serious, Major," Adrian said. He tossed his beer into the recycler and popped another.
"This is insane."
"This is an order given in the name of defending the Systems. What's your complaint?"
"We are running around playing conspiracy here. Isn't that what the blues did to kick this war off? How do you know you're being played for a fool and this is the greatest heist in history?" she said. There were good points in there. Adrian had considered all of them.
"I know there’s a chance of manipulation, that’s why I’m putting the platinum on your carrier. I’m trusting you not to steal it. Mirra took a long minute to reply. Adrian's hopes rose that he'd convinced her.
"Do you have a practical reason for loading the entire treasury onto a carrier?" she said, more in disbelief than opposition.
"Vindication is going straight back to 6th Gehenna’s main battlegroup when she leaves drydock. Serpentia will be in the reserve group. I can't risk the platinum by going into frontline combat,” Adrian said. He took a long drink to ease his nerves. "And the people who don't like me will be watching my supercarrier far more closely than yours."
"Why do we need to hide if we're trying to win the war?" Mirra said.
"Because there are plenty of people who don't care who wins the war; they just want to profit off both sides," Amelie broke in. "They want that platinum, and if they take it, there goes your payroll, your repairs, and anything else. And they won't be upfront, because then we'd fight it. First I’ll be kicked out of my position as treasurer. They'll introduce new regulation about munitions use and resupply protocols. Then they’ll cancel the yearly pay raise and pocket the budget difference." Adrian was glad he'd gotten her off the bridge for this.
"Yes, sir," Mirra said with finality.
"We'll put an OP together. No worries, sir," Meironara said. "Call it DUMPTRUCK. Use all caps in the memos to keep everyone guessing at hidden acronyms."
"Good. Vindication out," Adrian said.
"Do you trust her?" Amelie said.
"Barely, but I trust him more," Adrian said. There were more than one set of enemies to betray them to.
"Well, I'll have plenty of house guards vetted guarding the platinum, so they can try at their own risk," Amelie said. "Anything else you need?"
"Nothing. I've got a committee meeting. Just make sure Vinny gets repaired," Adrian said. There was a scaffolding down his supercarrier's back as the armor vaporized at Vykhor was finally replaced and the lost cooling tower was rebuilt. Cage and the garrison were supervising the contractors at near gunpoint.
"Good luck. I hope you're wrong about Emoche's intentions, though," Amelie said. She slapped his shoulder.
"Well, if we win, we don't need to worry."
He spent much of the next week at work on his evacuation plan. The Wendago vanguard was met in open space and defeated by weight of numbers, taking a 2:1 casualty ratio with them. The survivors fell back past the jump shelf, laying waste to anything in their reach. Propaganda shots spread across social media, reporting that the majority Wendago force was defeated. Hot takes from commentators who didn’t know military followed. Adrian knew better, but that wasn't his front.
Adrian uncrossed the civilian transit lines, with a great deal of help from the Lord Governor. In the military, when an order was given it was obeyed. In the civilian world there were shipping companies to compensate and legal issues to deal with. The fact that many of the refugees were paying citizens leaving in good order aided the cause. Johnathan's political pressure did as well. Hybera anchorage was unclogged in three days. Just in time—hours after the last overbooked flight was evacuated the atmospheric pump overloaded, forcing the anchorage crew to evacuate.
The refugees were attacked in the press for fleeing the planet.
"Every family running is accounting for resources and credits we need to fight the traitors off. It doesn't seem like much, but it adds up," Sarah Jinn, glowing in her blonde bob cut and surgically cheerful smile, said on Sollogers' News, the number one Volantene news blog. "Their cowardice is directly impacting our war effort."
"While I wouldn't go as far as that, I would say that our civilian population has no need to fear," Dukal added via flash drone interview two days later. The evacuation efforts slackened. Adrian finished his plan and let CONOR do the work with Volantis Undersecretary Hellana Gorden.
“Thank you. Even if the media is against it, I appreciate you looking our for your people. Best of luck, and may the Mother protect,” she said.
“You're welcome,” Adrian said. He was in the officer’s lounge, getting a Sargnac by himself. “May the Mother protect,” he added.
He closed his comp. The officer's lounge was filled to the brim at this point. Both VR terminals were maxxed at 8-man melee and the theater was playing a pre-recorded Volantene crunchball game. Tollyon Paladins were down to the Fimbulwinter by 72-17.
Back in his room he took off his jacket and sword, and poured himself a vodka. He sat down on his couch, turned the lights down to minimum, and sipped.
#
Chapter Thirty-Nine: Initial Engagement
Junes 3rd
64th Day of the War
When Adrian awoke and took the daily sitrep, First Burn was retreating from the jump shelf, chased by an armada of capitol ships and an ever-numerous horde of Wendago. Lord Dukal live-streamed as he engaged in the rear guard.
When Adrian toured the ship, he found work redoubled with fresh energy. The fighting had begun, and everyone was straining to get into it.
<
br /> Over the next two weeks the Hullen fought their way across the system in a standard system siege. Once they had driven the Systems off the jump shelf, they brought in their supply convoy and dropped mobile depots. Fleet carrier ops and standoff barriers flung tens of thousands of torpedoes into the convoys, wiping out dozens of freighters and millions of tons of supplies. The last of the first wave of redoubts was destroyed by the end of day four. The Hullen withdrew to their scant asteroid holdings and regrouped.
Vindication's lost coolant tower was completed at the dawn of day 8, and work began on the ruined reactor beneath. The Hullen struck in-system with their Wendago and carrier elements, then regressed a second wave of support ships. The admiralty was overwhelmed trying to handle both, and got neither done. Volantis-V was taken in 48 hours and redoubts were fortified. First and Sixth retreated to their own defenses. The blues pursued and threw themselves into the sights of the great sentry batteries. Every day came with a wave of fresh tales of heroism and running battles through the system.
Convoys raced out from Mother Volantis to her defenses, and were shredded by the Wendago. Meanwhile the admiralty juggled assaults, moving ships at high-g acceleration to repulse the Hullen as they attacked. Yet the numbers couldn't be overcome. Every blue destroyed was replaced with another. Then another fleet group arrived, and it became two replacements. Two bases were hit at once.
By day 14, when reactor number three had been sealed and equipped with fresh magnetic restraints, the Hullen were sitting pretty at 60% control of the System. Adrian turned away from his monitor, where a civil engineer was saying his goodbyes as the dreadnoughts zeroed his habitat.
"Bridge to engineering, are you ready to fire up the reactor?"
"You don't need to nanny us, sir. We've got this under control," Ravin said.
"I am a parent and that's my job," Adrian said. "Now is she ready?"
"She's primed and ready to fire. And I understand, sir, even if I haven't seen any of mine in years" Ravin said.
"Copy. The board is green," Adrian said. He nodded to Amelie and the handful of officers monitoring the power grid.