Swords Above the Stars

by Roman Zlotnikov

  “Soon, very soon, I will finally get my hands on that little bitch. Oh, Eve! I can’t wait for that moment!”

  The commodore laughed bitterly. The duke was filled with anticipation even before the opening attack on the fortress. It would be good to remember the last time, when she was beaten back. The light on the console built into the arm of the chair blinked, and Karsaven pressed a button irritably. She did not want to take her eyes off the screen and be distracted from contemplating the approaching fortress.

  “Yes!”

  “The Eye of the Eagle Squadron with twenty-one pennants is headed in the direction of the Throne of the World. Estimated time of arrival—seven hours.”

  The duke grinned. “The remains of the fleet! Well, so much the better. We will finish them all at the same time!” The duke brought the image of the approaching fleet on screen and after eagerly examining it for some time, she barked, “Order the squadron to slow down.”

  The commodore gasped in surprise. This was appalling stupidity—to allow the enemy forces to unite. But the duke happily rubbed her hands together, “At least we won’t have to chase after these rats all over the cosmos.”

  For a while all was quiet, then the navigator’s voice said, “We have entered the fortress’ strike zone.

  After a few moments a barely perceptible tremor was felt on the battleship, then another and another. The voice of the officer in charge of the shield protection system, said, “Three hits to the force field, no damage.”

  The duke fidgeted in her chair and laughed mischievously, “They are probing us. Let them waste their energy.” She flicked the toggle switch on the screen and highlighted the squadron going into formation, so that the battleship’s force field could cover them from the fire. Carefully observing the squadron of ships on the screen, the duke swiftly switched channels to the commander of the weapons systems. “Come on then, let’s try them out.”

  “Full fire, Your Majesty?”

  The duke yelled at the top of her voice. “Hell, yes everything you have!”

  “But … yes, Your Majesty.”

  The battleship trembled a little harder than with the first strikes. The preview of the fortress on the screen blurred slightly.

  “We have been hit, but no damage.”

  The duke slammed her right fist on the console.

  “Adam be damned! Take us get closer in.”

  The console buzzed again. The duke stared angrily at the flashing light, then irritably pressed the button, “Well, what now?”

  “There is another squadron moving in Fish Tail formation of about forty pennants on course for the Throne of the World. Estimated time of arrival—seven and a half hours.”

  The duke stared at the console, “Who's this?”

  Danner leaned forward, intending to remind her of the strange message from Second Outpost, but changed her mind and said nothing. The duke did not want to listen to it then, so let her deal with it herself now. Karsaven grimaced with annoyance.

  “Connect me to the unknown squadron.”

  The reply was instant.

  “The commander of the unknown squadron is on the connection.”

  The duke clicked a button, and now on the huge screen instead of the image of orbital fortress Mae, a stern face with watery gray eyes was displayed. The duke studied her for a few moments, then screamed. The face on the screen appeared to be that of Admiral Sandra, a princess of royal blood, sister of the late queen. The duke’s aunt, who disappeared into the depths of space more than ten years ago, along with the remnants of the rebel squadron.

  9

  The admiral looked at Duke Karsaven’s rage-distorted face and smiled a broad smile.

  “Yes, my dear, you are perhaps an even greater fool than your crazy mother.”

  “How dare you say that about her? You! You left her to die!”

  “Don’t talk about something you know nothing about. Your whimsical mummy misled the Reymeyks for so long until eventually she believed that all the people were waiting for her with open arms. When I told her she needed to flee, she flatly refused and settled on Reymeyk—waiting, you see, for a popular uprising to send her a call to the Throne.”

  “Lies! Lies! All lies! You abandoned her, threw her away, and left her!”

  The admiral grinned back. “You're hysterical, my dear. Well, that’s your problem.”

  She turned and looked at another screen from which a serious child’s face could be seen.

  “Look, nieces, I demand that you stop this squabbling immediately. I suggest you suspend hostilities and come to my flagship for a serious conversation. A too formidable enemy is coming against us for us to waste our energy on civil war.”

  The little girl stared at her seriously, without answering, while the duke broke into a long tirade, the contents of which boiled down to how she was not going to do a deal with traitors and old women. The admiral smiled. Well, this was all consistent with what she had learned about each of the contenders.

  “Very well, my dear,” she said, looking at Karsaven. “Soon I will show you why I consider myself to have the right to interfere.”

  ***

  Tera stared for a few moments at the empty screen, then turned to General Santana and looked at her, eyebrows raised. Santana shook her head, stunned, and said, “That is Admiral Sandra, without a doubt.” The general wiped her face with her hand. “But I do not understand why she was so sure of herself. Of course, she has forty pennants, but the lack of a battleship or orbital fortress only levels the playing field at best.”

  “You're not right, she is playing the queen on a chessboard,” said Amalia. “If at least one of the parties gets to close quarters with her, the second gets a distinct advantage. If the admiral joins us, or say Karsaven, the chances for the opposition become zero. Suppose she is against us—in this case, even the fleet will fail to support us. If she sides against Duke Karsaven, half of the Second Light Squadron will abandon her.”

  The general pursed her lips skeptically. “You're right, of course, but that's not all there is to it. She has another trump card. When I was a lieutenant, she already commanded the Third Enei, and do you know what her nicknames were?” Santana paused, glancing around at all those present, then said, “The Computer and Steel Jaws. She always calculated very clearly, and no one could ever catch her off guard. But, if she was after someone or something? I can only remember her making one mistake …” She looked at the little girl guiltily, but continued. “The time that the admiral supported a rebellion of one sister against the other.”

  “So, you believe that the threat against Karsaven is not a bluff?” asked Galiyat.

  The general nodded.

  “Yes, I think she's got something up her sleeve.” She pressed a button again, and on a large screen the image of the approaching squadron was displayed. “Though I can’t see anything special about the approaching ships, all but three have been identified, and those three are too small to carry anything serious.”

  “Who knows?” mused the mentor.

  The girl glanced at the glowing screen and said quietly, “Let’s wait.”

  Everybody present felt relieved. Their Ruler had decided.

  ***

  The duke leaned forward, her hands clenched on the arms of the command chair. In a few minutes the fortress would be in effective range of the battleship’s mortar batteries. From the speakers came the quiet voice of the officer responsible for the weapon systems.

  “Two minutes forty seconds before opening fire.”

  Karsaven fidgeted impatiently. The next moment an incoming call button on the console lit up again. The duke furiously slapped off the button, not wanting to be distracted at that moment, but the button stayed lit.

  “So, what is it now?” snapped Karsaven, pressing the button.

  “A single ship has separated from the admiral’s squadron and it is moving to intercept our squadron,” came the reply. “Admiral Sandra requests a connection with Your Highness.”
>
  “I have nothing to say to her.” She thought for a moment, then asked, “What kind of ship is it?”

  “We can’t identify it. By size and driving characteristics it corresponds approximately to a frigate. We can’t identify its armament.”

  The duke laughed, “It sounds like they have learned to build small ships on the outskirts of the universe. Is this what she wants to scare me with?” She took a deep breath and said, “OK, connect me to my elderly relative.”

  The admiral’s face reappeared on screen.

  “Well, auntie, what do you want?”

  The admiral looked at her quizzically, “For the last time I suggest you stop the attack on the fortress.”

  “And if I do not? What will you do? Spit on my image on the screen?”

  The admiral shook her head, “Should I take that as a no?”

  “As you wish.”

  The admiral’s face turned slightly on the screen, “Captain Isma.”

  A muffled voice came from another screen in the admiral’s navigation room.

  “Yes, admiral.”

  “The first volley is to damage the battleship. Do not destroy it. Loss of crew is to be minimized.”

  “Yes, admiral.”

  The screen went blank.

  “So, she has decided to play along with the little brat!” The duke jumped up in a fury, banging a button on the console to switch to the communication channel with the officer managing the weapons systems, but she missed her mark, swore, and simply screamed at the whole room, “Fire on that single ship!”

  The commodore, who was standing behind her chair, clenched her teeth together, bitterly cursing her fate. Eve our savior, what made me go along with this insane woman!

  The battleship shook once, then again, and again. Karsaven was watching the screen with a hungry, angry look on her face, then suddenly her jaw dropped. The volleys from the battleship’s mortar batteries did not cause the small ship any harm. When they hit, it suddenly enveloped itself in a strange veil, resembling a rainbow-colored net with large cells of an irregular shape, and it continued to proceed as if nothing had happened. The duke opened her mouth to say something, but a powerful blow shook the battleship.

  ***

  An excited General Santana turned to everybody on the command deck, “Well, what did I tell you!”

  Everyone stared at the screen. The small ship, the size of a frigate, quietly stood there for three volleys from the battleship, hiding behind some unusual protective field. The general turned back to the screen and muttered, “Now we must find the answer. There is no way Steel Jaws will not bite.”

  The next moment, lights flickered at several points of the battleship. For a while nothing happened, then the senior gunner suddenly screamed in surprise, “the battleship’s force field has disappeared!”

  They were all glued to the screen.

  “It’s disintegrating! That little shrimp cut it to pieces!” screamed Amalia in delight.

  Indeed, the huge battleship was literally cut to pieces. The central unit, the engine compartment and six batteries drifted next to each other, as though they formed a single disjointed entity. Jets of steam escaped, but overall there was only minor damage to the individual compartments.

  However, the openwork design of huge titanium beams that connected them together had been blown to shreds. The battleship had been turned into several piles of unmanageable metal. For some time, the small ship followed the same course, then turned and ran parallel to the duke’s squadron. On the general’s console a red light began to flash, so she pressed the button, “Go ahead.”

  “The admiral demands communication!”

  “Demands?” The general looked questioningly at Tera. The girl nodded, and Santana said, “OK.”

  On the big screen, where they had just watched the fight, the admiral’s face appeared. Next to it on a small side screen, was the duke’s face, distorted with rage and fear. The admiral grinned. “I took it upon myself to organize a conference, because I hate to repeat myself. And what I have to say is for both of you.” She curled her lips. “Twelve hours from now I will be waiting for you down below. The Winter Palace in the Chamber of Peers. Be there.”

  The duke choked and said, “How, Adam be damned to all hell, can I do that if you leave me for dead in a sealed tin?”

  “I already told you, my dear, that’s your problem. Besides, who else can you blame for getting into this situation? You should listen to your elders.”

  Tera spoke up, “Excuse me, Admiral, what are we there to discuss?”

  The admiral grinned, “I like polite children.” She shook her head. “Did it not occur to you little girl, that I have a much greater claim to the crown than either of you?”

  Tera recoiled. Then her mentor jumped forward, “How can we be sure that nothing will happen to the girl?”

  “You want guarantees of security? Will my word of honor be enough?”

  They all looked at each other, then the girl lifted her chin and said, “Yes.”

  ***

  The Council Chamber of the Peers was crowded. Tera was sitting on a small chair next to the empty throne. Behind her stood five people, four of whom she trusted more than anyone else in this world.

  Karsaven appeared at the last moment, accompanied by Commodore Danner. Throwing an angry look in Tera’s direction, she smiled triumphantly and sat on her ancestral seat. The peers talked quietly amongst themselves, awaiting the arrival of Princess Sandra.

  Finally, echoing footsteps could be heard behind the doors, and the admiral entered the hall with an escort of a dozen marines in full combat gear. When she came to the middle of the room, the door slowly closed, and contrary to tradition, the space marines did not leave the room, but stayed inside. One of them, the biggest of them, who was not armed with a plasma rifle and sword, but with a huge axe with a blue-black blade, stood near the throne. This caused some confusion, and from the back of the hall someone called out, “Get out!”

  Sandra looked around the room quizzically and said sternly, “Shut up. Now I set down the laws and traditions. You have already done everything you could. You have destroyed the fleet, lost the queen, and involved yourselves in a civil war.”

  She came to the throne and sat quietly upon it. This too was a flagrant violation of traditions. Only the queen was allowed to occupy the throne. No one else, even if it was the officially appointed ruler or regent, but this time the murmurings of discontent were much quieter.

  “So, peers, you have three contenders for the crown. Let's listen to the first one.” She nodded mockingly towards the duke.

  Karsaven stood up, looked around at everybody with a contemptuous look, and smiled wryly. “If Princess Sandra publicly declares me her heir, I am ready to renounce my claims to the throne and take the oath of allegiance.”

  With these words she threw her sword at the foot of the throne and sat down on her seat.

  The admiral smiled wryly, “So, one less. What has the young one got to say?”

  Tera got up from her chair and stepped forward.

  “If I refuse to follow the example of my cousin, do you intend to destroy me?”

  The hall fell deathly silent. The admiral shook her head.

  “Do you recall any occasion in the history of our family where stubborn contenders for the throne have been left alive?” She sighed with sadness. “Except, of course, in my case. But in this case, as you can see, your mother made a mistake.”

  The peers began talking excitedly. Tera nodded slowly.

  “In that case, you will have to catch me first.”

  Once again, a deathly silence hung over the Chamber. Again, the admiral smiled wryly.

  “So, the position of the parties is now clear, so what do your close advisors have to say, little brat?” She looked at the mentor.

  The mentor met her eyes fearlessly.

  “I'm too attached to my pupil to leave her at this hour.”

  The admiral looked into her face
with her piercing eyes, her lips twisted in a condescending smile and said, “Well, such dedication is commendable. Then she looked towards Captain Amalia, “And how about you, Marquis?”

  Amalia smiled slightly. “I no longer have the family seat, no mother, and I am hardly likely to be allowed the opportunity to take her seat in the house of peers. She was too ardent a supporter of your sister and rival.”

  The admiral shook her head.

  “But what if I return you to the peerage? I need loyal people.”

  Amalia proudly raised her head. “What will my loyalty be worth if I sell it? Even for a peerage.”

  “Does this mean that you are prepared to share the fate of your ruler?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even to the death?”

  If there was any hesitation, then no one noticed it. The answer was firm and loud.

  “Yes.”

  The admiral nodded and looked at the general. “And you? You're not related by family ties to the little brat, not by fealty, nor old friendship, or even by a long acquaintance.”

  General Santana pursed her lips into a sad smile. “Too long have I obeyed a thirst for self-affirmation, then followed the sound of the purse, now it's time to consider the debt of honor.”

  “So, does that mean no?”

  The general shrugged her shoulders. “I think that my answer is yes—but, unfortunately, not to you.”

  The admiral was already looking towards the princess’ next companion.

  “You?”

  She shook her head. “I swore allegiance.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Two weeks ago.”

  The admiral again shook her head.

  “As I understand it, this has happened on board the orbital fortress and the oath has not been approved by ancestral council?”

  “True,” Styre, Viscount Mayrat smiled in return. “And I do not think that it would be approved now. But I made this decision myself, and nobody can cancel it against my wishes.”

  “Apart from yourself?”

  The viscount shrugged. The admiral nodded and turned to the last one that came with the girl, but she herself stepped forward.