Lochagós Garon (MVC 814): “Targets acquired. Firing.”
Navarchos Casmir (Imperium Alpha): “Belay that, Lochagós! We are not to fire on Concord vessels!”
Lochagós Garon (MVC 814): “They’re AEGIS fighters. Firing now.”
The same difference…which Casmir recognized constituted the crux of one of Ferdinand’s biggest complaints about Concord—that Humans controlled it in all practical respects. But now wasn’t the time for semantics.
Garon’s cruiser engaged, but the fighters spiraled upward and fanned out, deftly evading the initial volley.
Navarchos Casmir (Imperium Alpha): “Lochagós Garon, you will stand down this instant, or I will fire upon you myself.”
Lochagós Garon (MVC 814): “Sir!”
Navarchos Casmir (Imperium Alpha): “You have your orders.”
No further response arrived, but no further fire originated from the cruiser, either.
Dammit, that was too close. When larger, more formidable AEGIS vessels didn’t appear on the horizon to escalate the encounter, he studied the tactical map with one eye, the viewport with the other. The AEGIS fighters had done a fine job of destroying the facility; it took them longer and required greater firepower than he’d have needed to accomplish the task, but the result was the same. So why were they here? Why would Commandant Solovy authorize him to attack Savrak if she intended to order AEGIS to do the same? It didn’t make any sense.
Should he expect to bump into Concord forces at other sites now? He’d do what he could to keep his ship captains reined in, but the fog of war meant mistakes were bound to happen eventually. Of course, as he was now free, if only in the most technical sense, he might simply send the commandant a message requesting clarification or updated orders…
…but with the Savrakaths all but disposed of, she would likely then order him to return to Concord HQ with the ships and men he oversaw. And that wasn’t his deal with Ferdinand. If he did it, he’d be signing the final seal on his betrayal of his Dynasty and his people. And try as he might, he just wasn’t ready to do it. Not yet. He still believed he could carve a path through this crisis that preserved both Concord and the solidarity of the Anaden people.
“Should we proceed to the next target, Navarchos?”
He checked the tactical profile, grateful to need to focus on the here and now. But there were no more known military targets. In a single day, his fleet had eliminated their short- and long-term military capability. As Machim fleets did. The Savrakath vessels currently on patrol were going to find themselves in a predicament when it came time to land somewhere.
This left civilian targets, and he found himself hesitating once again. When the mission was to Eradicate an enemy, Machim fleets did not distinguish between military and civilian targets. But the last fourteen years had taught him that Concord fleets did so distinguish. Commandant Solovy’s message authorized him to attack military targets. While his Primor would have ordered every building over ten meters tall flattened before calling in a Theriz Cultivation Unit, Commandant Solovy would stay her hand here.
Which kind of leader did he want to be? Which kind was he capable of being?
Perhaps, as a first step, he could split the difference. He prepared a message to be delivered to General Jhountar, then returned his attention to the tactical profile.
“I’m marking a heavy industrial distribution center in the city of Pakrak as our next target.”
EPITHERO
Lochagós Garon ela-Machim entered the converted military situation room, stopping just inside the door to salute Casmir. “Sir, you wished to see me?”
Casmir had been reviewing the updated scans of Savrak with Otto and Hannah, searching for any signs of military activity needing to be stamped out, but he diverted his attention from the scans to fix a cold gaze on Garon. “Yes, I did. You’re fired.”
The man blinked twice, and the rigidity of his formal stance evaporated. “Excuse me, Navarchos?”
“Fired. Relieved of command. You are no longer captain of a cruiser, or of any vessel for that matter. You disobeyed a direct order in the middle of a live combat situation. Therefore, you can serve as a junior officer on a frigate until you learn how to obey orders and respect the chain of command. You’ll be issued a bunk at the Machimis Military Annex until I determine your next assignment. Dismissed.”
Garon stood there, jaw dropped, gaping at him.
“I said dismissed.”
The man shook his head roughly, pivoted and stormed out of the room in a fit of outrage. Once the door had closed behind Garon, Casmir turned back to the other Machim elassons and met their equally disbelieving stares with projected resolve. “It’s called discipline. In the absence of the integral, we need to enforce it ourselves. We should have begun doing so fourteen years ago, but we can begin today. In time, the people serving under us will learn to respect the chain of command, but orders such as this will send an unequivocal message to our soldiers that we will not tolerate insubordination.” He recalled Commandant Solovy’s admonition and decided to crib it. “And fear will suffice as a workable substitute until we can instill a tradition of proper discipline.”
Otto frowned. “Relieving soldiers of their posts is not a concept which exists in our Dynasty.”
“Then it’s time we introduce it. Am I being clear?”
Somewhat to his surprise, no one else argued. It was possible that, much like him, they were simply looking for guidance and leadership. He didn’t know if he was up to the task of providing it in the crisis scenario they now faced, but dammit, he had to try. Uncountable lives might depend on him changing the course of this debacle of an insurgency.
Ferdinand blasted them with an urgent summons then, saving him from having to fumble his way out of the awkward silence lingering in the wake of his grand declaration.
This communique is addressed to Ferdinand elasson-Kyvern and all Anaden elassons who are supporting or cooperating with his actions.
If Machim warships fire on Concord-affiliated vessels again, Concord will view it as a declaration of war. You have been warned.
The Senate has voted unanimously to strip Ferdinand elasson-Kyvern of his Senate position. The Anaden seat will remain open until the Anaden people choose a new senator to represent them in Concord affairs. If the Anaden people wish to withdraw from Concord, they may do so by popular vote. Until such time as this occurs, we will continue to treat the Anaden people as full and equal citizens.
Furthermore, charges of treason and abuse of office have been filed against Ferdinand elasson-Kyvern and a warrant issued for his arrest. He is requested to report peaceably to Concord Security for processing. If he does not promptly do so, measures will be taken to effect his arrest.
Any elassons who wish to disavow Ferdinand elasson-Kyvern’s actions and surrender to Concord Security will be granted pardons, absent evidence of prior actions on their part that threatened the lives of Concord citizens.
The offices of Concord Command, Senate and Consulate wish to resolve this dispute peacefully. However, we will answer any acts of violence or threats of violence or coercion against Concord citizens or property in the strongest possible terms.
— Commandant Miriam Solovy, Concord Command
— Senator Mia Requelme, Concord Consulate
— Concord Senate
Senator Mia Requelme
Senator Pinchutsenahn Niikha Qhiyane Kteh
Senator Daayn Shahs-Ian
Senator Onai Veshnael
Senator Tasme Chareis
Senator Bohlke’ban
Senator Ahhk-sae
Ferdinand tossed a hand in the direction of the message floating above the table. “Rubbish, all of it! How dare they threaten to arrest me! They haven’t the right. I’ve only ever acted in the best interests of our people.”
His eyes narrowed as he scanned the others in the room, perhaps not finding the reactions he was expecting. “I hope no one is considering taking them up on their pa
rdon offer. Consider your responses carefully, for if you surrender to Concord, you will lose all authority of your Dynasty.”
Basra practically snarled at Ferdinand. “You don’t have the power to make such a determination, brother. I am an elasson of the Kyvern Dynasty by blood and genetic destiny, and you cannot take that from me.”
“Do you want to see me try? I can ruin every person in this room with a few well-placed comms. See, this is what Concord is hoping for! They want to sow discord among us. They want to tear us apart, and you are letting them.”
“We’re already torn apart, Ferdinand.” Rachele elasson-Theriz spread her arms wide, as if to draw everyone in. “Less than half the elassons are here supporting you, and no one new has joined us in days. We have torn ourselves apart. So I come back to the first question I asked: what is it you want to do? Do you want to go to war with Concord? Withdraw and form our own government? Or are you merely interested in throwing a month-long temper tantrum? Because if it proves to be the latter, I am out.”
Ferdinand sputtered and fumed, and Casmir had to wonder exactly how close the man was to losing all control. “This is not a temper tantrum. I believe that we should answer to no one but ourselves. We need to create a structure where we are beholden to no authority but our own.”
“Athena’s grace! Then stop grandstanding and do it, for fuck’s sake.”
Casmir forcibly bit his tongue. Many of those present, Ferdinand included, still viewed his ‘conversion’ with suspicion, and rightfully so. If he spoke out in favor of Concord now, he risked losing what meager goodwill he’d built up. That being said, he made a note to have a private conversation with Rachele and possibly Basra later.
Diplomacy was not part of a Machim’s skillset, but he was starting to think he must be better at it than Ferdinand. Maybe genetics weren’t everything after all.
49
* * *
SAVRAK
Underground Military Bunker
General Kuisk Jhountar,
Your military capability is decimated. Lay down your arms and surrender all remaining military weaponry and interstellar-capable vessels, military or civilian, within the next Concord Standard Day. If you do not, your population centers will be annihilated in the hours that follow. By next week, you will not have a population. The choice is yours.
Your surrender can be directed to Navarchos Casmir elasson-Machim at this address.
“Arghhhh!” With a deep growl Jhountar slammed his hand into the bronze urn resting atop his desk and sent it flying across the room. It had hardly crashed into the wall and tumbled to the floor when he’d upended a guest chair and hurled it at the door. The chair broke into pieces on impact; the door did not.
“Sir—”
He spun on Brigadier Ghorek with a vicious snarl. “Is it true? Is Northeast Military Command gone? The Lunar Forward Maneuvers Center? The Arctic Strategic Base?”
Ghorek kept his distance, one conniving eye on the exit. “All those locations, as well as six additional military bases, are offline and not responding to communications.”
“That tells me nothing. What does Reconnaissance say?”
“Reconnaissance is unable to provide any information, as the satellite network is down, sir. Likely destroyed.”
Jhountar’s blood rushed hot through his veins, and he searched around for something fresh to inflict abuse upon.
Ghorek stood calmly, though he’d retreated nearer to the door during Jhountar’s rampage. “We are dispatching our fastest ships to the affected locations to assess the damage. We should know more in an hour or two.”
“We do not have hours to spare, as they have only given us a day to respond. If this Navarchos’ claims are true, I must know it now. Send additional vessels.”
“Yes, sir. You’re considering complying with the demands and surrendering?”
“Never. But we need time to regroup and prepare an appropriate response, one which will teach Concord we are not to be trifled with.”
“I see.” Ghorek’s tail swished deliberately. “What response might that be?”
Jhountar ignored the question to go to his desk and call up the visual from the interrogation room at the top-secret Akasav facility. The Anaden prisoner lay strapped to a table, his arms and legs restrained and pulled wide apart. Bruises dotted his pale, squishy flesh, and blood dripped to the floor from multiple locations—the toes of one foot, a long cut along the left section of his stomach, his nostrils and a portion of his scalp. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow.
The man’s heart had nearly stopped twice during the morning’s interrogation, according to the onsite doctor. The warning provided by the Anaden deviant who delivered the prisoner had proved accurate: the man was making it exceedingly difficult not to kill him. He hurled insults and spat in the interrogators’ faces, screamed and flailed, and generally took every action available to him other than providing actionable intel on Concord.
The Savrakaths were not a gentle people, but the tortures they’d subjected the prisoner to gave even Jhountar pause—or had done so before Concord warships wrecked a host of military assets a century in the making. Now, he wanted to travel to Akasav and slit the man’s throat himself, one slow millimeter at a time.
The unpleasant truth was that they had nearly run out of inventive torments to subject the prisoner to. Their most creative efforts had not broken the man. As a murderer of Savrakaths, he deserved the punishment all the same, but in his single-minded quest to die and be reborn, he was determined not to give them the information they craved.
But perhaps he could still be of some use as a bargaining chip. And if he failed to serve this purpose as well, they retained one more prisoner in reserve. They’d kept his capture secret in the hope that he might be a long-term source of actionable intel, but it turned out the Human was only a grunt soldier, possessing no noteworthy intelligence to be tortured out of him. Jhountar nevertheless kept him alive for now; if a public demonstration became necessary, the man could serve as a useful example of why it was unwise to go to war with the Savrakaths.
He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. First, a lifeline and the beginnings of a plan.
Jhountar pivoted to Ghorek, who had slid yet closer to the door while his focus was elsewhere. “Order all antimatter materials and weaponry in the field to be delivered to a central location—somewhere remote that won’t attract Concord attention.”
“Yes, sir. It will take longer than a day to collect and transport everything.”
“I’m aware. Do it as quickly as possible, no matter the expense. I have an idea of how to buy us the time we need.”
50
* * *
CINT VESSEL 23A-X
Vicinity of Savrak Stellar System
For the first time in uncountable ages, Eren didn’t wake to the sensation of spiders stealing around carving rivulets through the muscles and tendons beneath his skin.
Drae had removed the wrist restraints while Eren slept, and his arms now hung limply at his sides. His left cheek ached from spending hours pressed against the cold, unforgiving floor of his prison. Most other parts of his body ached worse, as though every muscle had been clenched tight as he lay there. Possibly they had been.
He breathed in—and promptly decided the spiders were the better option. Bolts of pain ricocheted around his skull to stab him behind the eyes and rip apart his jaw. Pressure on the inside of his skull made it feel as though the bones were about to burst apart. He needed to release the pressure somehow, this instant. A needle through the ear, or through the eye if necessary.
His ears popped as the pressure became unbearable, and his hands gripped his horrifically bare head in a vise-grip. What was this fresh form of maddening torture? His eyeballs swam in their sockets, bulging in preparation for being forced out of his skull.
Something bumped against his foot, and he forced his eyes open to see a syringe lying to his left. On the other side of the force field, Drae stood with his
arms crossed over his chest, regarding Eren dubiously.
Eren hissed through clenched teeth. “Whatever’s in there, is it enough to kill me?”
“No, you ass. Just enough to knock you out for a little while longer.”
“Up the dose.” He struggled to gather his legs beneath him—then abruptly he lunged toward the force field, taking perverse pleasure in the shock of electricity that cascaded over his body when he collided with it even as the charge knocked him back to the floor. “If you have ever been my friend, kill me—or let me loose so I can do it myself.”
Drae’s expression hardened into grim resoluteness. “No. I know you’ll find this hard to believe right now, but you’re doing better. Almost done.”
Eren picked up the syringe and tried to focus on it as his vision blurred from tears. Tears of agony, or possibly from smarting due to the jolt of electricity. Almost done with detox, maybe, though at present it felt more like the endless beginning than the unreachable end. But on the backside of recovery waited only sorrow. The loneliness of a bleak universe stripped of color and joy, for its brightest star had been snuffed out forever.
Then the pressure in his head exploded anew. He jammed the syringe into his neck and let the darkness engulf him.
Drae collapsed in the cockpit chair and let it spin him around as he rubbed at his face. He needed sleep, but he hadn’t dared leave Eren unattended for longer than a few minutes at a time. The dose of ferusom ought to send his patient into a calm, dreamless sleep for four or five hours at a minimum, however, so now was his opportunity.
He kicked the chair around in another lazy circle. Was he doing the right thing? Should he have taken Eren to HQ Medical, where he could receive proper treatment from qualified professionals? No, his friend would simply shut down and bide his time until he could escape and finish the job of his slow suicide.
Inversion (Riven Worlds Book Two) Page 30