Swords Above the Stars

by Roman Zlotnikov

  “Well, Adam damn you!” Sandra grunted again and reached for the glass. “Get on with it and be as fast as you can!”

  Umarka saluted, turned, after clicking her heels together loudly, and stamped out from the chambers. Such an emphatic demonstration of insubordination showed her dissatisfaction.

  Sandra watched her go, then looked thoughtfully at the glass, filled it for a third time, put it back on the table and paced around the room. Yes, the situation could not be worse. Her Whiskered One was on Lusus with the squadron of noble dons, Tera had been missing for two days to who knew where, and more interestingly, that big chap, her liaison officer, was missing too. On the corvette, nobody knew where he had gone.

  Such absences by Tera were not uncommon. She had created several well-designed excuses, as she called them, to see how the other half lived.

  It often happened that after her return, some officials would lose their positions and end up on the street, or even worse, in prison. However, now there was too much trouble brewing, and Tera could not afford such a long absence. It was high time she returned. Sandra grinned. Maybe her hormones were playing around.

  It was no accident that the young don had disappeared at the same time. She perfectly remembered how one time she had spent two full days in a cabin with her Whiskered One, and when she eventually crawled out, barely able to stand, that all of that time her squadron had been evading pursuit.

  For three hours her staff had tried to get her attention, then gave up and decided to rely on themselves. Thank Eve, she had trained up some good captains. However, in this situation, it was essential to have Tera. If dissatisfied peers were to unite with the equally unhappy senior officers of the fleet... Sandra closed her eyes, imagining what it might come to.

  She needed somehow to urgently improve her mood. She shook her head, pushing away the heavy thoughts, went to the console and sent a call to Lusus. While waiting for Don Krushinka to be found, she had changed into a long negligee and sat in a chair.

  Don Krushinka stared at her from the screen and sighed sadly.

  “How I miss our time together!”

  “Be patient,” she smiled sweetly and continued more seriously. “I have problems my Whiskered One.”

  Don Krushinka jumped up angrily and frowned. Sandra almost laughed. After so many years of living in the kingdom, he still hadn’t managed to break the habit of throwing himself in the way of any danger that threatened her.

  After several such incidents, she no longer found this habit amusing, and she wasn’t alone. In the first year of her regency, six attempts were made on her life. What else could you expect in a nation, the foundations of which were weakened by rebellion, and the pitiful remnants of a fleet stuck with the implacable Reymeyks?

  The last time there were eight assassins.

  By the time security arrived, they were lying on the floor of the library of her ancestral castle, literally hacked to bits.

  There were no more attempts after that.

  “No, my Whiskered One, you can’t help me this time.” Sandra shook her head. “Some people are very unhappy with the fact that any of you are here at all, very unhappy. I just wanted to see you, very much. You always help me to come back to normal.” She smiled again. “How are things with you?”

  Don Krushinka grinned. “Everything here is fine! The guys will do everything they need to. For many of them, this is their first contract in ten years. Now we are the preparing the exploration probe.”

  The door slammed open loudly, and an agitated Umarka appeared in the doorway. Sandra hastily nodded toward the screen. “Sorry, my Whiskered One, urgent business. Thank you for everything.”

  The screen went dark. Umarka stepped forward and said. “I know where Tera spent the previous night. She was pretending to be Corma.” The captain paused, waiting for a question, but Sandra waved her hand impatiently, so she added, “Tera was attacked ...”

  Sandra jumped to her feet. “By who?”

  “Baron Medjid.”

  “That beast of Adam!” Sandra slammed her fist against the headboard. “A decade ago we should have seized her and thrown her from the peerage for participating in the rebellion.” Then she recovered herself and asked in a trembling voice, “What happened to Tera?”

  Umarka shrugged. “I do not know. She was attacked in a cheap trattoria on the outskirts of Emilat. She was there with him ...” Umarka faltered but found the strength to finish. “That man. When they broke out of the trattoria, the fight was memorable, and several corpses were left behind. By the way, Baron Medjid’s loyal bitch Lampia is no longer able to serve her.”

  “ What else?”

  “That’s all,” sighed Umarka. “Tera has disappeared. A quarter of an hour later Baron Medjid arrived with two disc flyers, took all the survivors, and disappeared in an unknown direction. From then on nothing has been heard from her.”

  “So, they have both been missing for more than two days.”

  Umarka nodded.

  “Damn Adam!” Sandra cursed, and she walked around the room, thinking hard. “There is only one good piece of news in all of this. Whatever plans the Baron had conceived, if it had succeeded, then she would have already been at a meeting of the House of Peers. Too much is at stake for her to miss today’s session. And so ...” she sighed loudly, “we can only pray.” There was a painful silence in the room, then the admiral turned to Umarka. “Call out the guard. We must find the queen.”

  The night passed without sleep. In the morning, in Sandra’s old office, which she had used during the period of her Regency, and which she was now using once again since Tera had arrived accompanied by the dons’ fleet, Admiral Shantorin appeared.

  When her arrival was reported to Sandra, she and Umarka were marking out the next spot on a map to search, losing hope of finding Tera. The admiral was in full uniform, with braid and white gloves. She held her plumed ceremonial hat across her chest. Seeing Sandra before her, she raised her eyebrows in surprise and hastily pulled her hat back onto her head.

  The Shantorin family held a long-standing privilege of only removing their hat in the presence of Tera, and they were very proud of it.

  “I requested to be taken to the queen!” snapped the admiral irritably.

  Sandra threw her an angry look, rolled up the map and gave it to Umarka, nodding towards the door.

  Umarka left the room silently. Sandra pointed to a chair. “Sit down, Admiral.”

  The admiral raised her chin. “I will only speak with the queen.”

  “The queen is not available at the moment.”

  Sandra decided to lighten the atmosphere because it was obvious that the admiral had burst into the palace with a clear intention to cause a scene.

  Shantorin did not possess the sharpest intellect but had always been a fervent supporter. So, if she had got involved in this conflict, then things must be bad.

  “Perhaps there is something I can help you with, Admiral?” She asked softly.

  Her companion thought for a few seconds then gingerly sat on the edge of the chair and gave a strained smile. Ultimately, it was not worth spoiling relations with one of the most powerful Peers in the kingdom. If Shantorin could expect that Tera would perceive her demands as purely a matter of state, then Sandra was the kind to consider it a personal challenge, and it was well known the former Regent did not forgive her enemies.

  “Sorry to have to tell you this, but ...” She exhaled and put a stack of printouts down on the table. “Here, take a look.”

  “What is it?”

  “Notices of resignation.”

  “Whose?” Sandra asked softly after a painful pause.

  Shantorin shivered from her tone but went through the list. Sandra leaned back in her chair. Eighteen people. All squadron commanders, apart from the flagship, the chief of the naval academy, and seven captains. The cream of the fleet. Sandra shook her head. This was more than bad. You could say it was open mutiny. Coupled with the clamor from Peers today in the
Council ... it could mean disaster.

  “Where are these people?”

  Sandra again proudly raised her chin.

  “They are at my house awaiting arrest.”

  Sandra nodded, then reached out and took the notices, looked through them meticulously examining the signatures.

  “Call them here, Admiral.”

  “For arrest?”

  Sandra felt like snapping at her, but she restrained herself.

  “If I planned to arrest them, I would send guards or at least the police.” She pushed the printouts away. “In any event, only Tera can make that decision. I just want to talk to them.”

  The admiral stood up, saluted, and left the office. The officers arrived half an hour later. When Sandra met them, accompanied by Umarka, they looked at each other in surprise. Captain Umarka was known as the shadow of Tera, so what could her presence behind Lord Sandra’s shoulder mean? Sandra stopped in the middle of the room under their wary eyes. She tilted her head back slightly and addressed Umarka.

  “Captain, report to our audience, where the queen is presently.”

  Umarka hesitated briefly, whether from bewilderment or whether by virtue of an almost unconscious habit never to talk about such matters in front of strangers and said carefully, “The queen’s location cannot be confirmed at the present time.”

  A gasp of surprise swept across the audience. Sandra, not giving them time to recover, continued. “What is known about the queen’s last known location?”

  “A trattoria known as the ‘Game Fish’ in Emilat.”

  “What happened there?”

  “Baron Medjid’s people attempted to capture her.”

  “There was another astonished gasp, although this time it was perhaps more one of anger. All the years after the mutiny, the fleet had been emphatically true to the throne, and the attempt to capture Tera, which coincided with such a demonstrative gesture of the senior officers of the fleet, cast a shadow on their involvement in the new rebellion. Umarka paused, not knowing whether to share the information that they had received a few minutes ago, but Sandra was adamant.

  “Continue.”

  “Baron Medjid was discovered an hour ago.”

  “Where?”

  “Seventy miles north of Emilat.”

  “In what condition?”

  Umarka, seeing that Sandra would not rest until she had shared everything with her audience to the bitter end, decided to continue.

  “Baron Medjid and the eighteen members of her escort were found. They were armed with two stun guns, seven ray guns, two plasma rifles, swords, and daggers.” She paused. “They were all dead. They died of stab wounds inflicted by a sword and a dagger.”

  Once again, an astonished gasp swept through the ranks, then someone’s muffled voice asked. “What about the queen?”

  Umarka replied without any encouragement from Sandra.

  “Judging by the picture obtained by the infrared scanner, during the fight the queen was in a supine position. Presumably, she was unconscious, probably under the influence of an impact from a stun gun. Judging by a computer reconstruction of the fight, the baron’s people tried several times to break through to her, but all were killed. There is evidence on the trees and shrubs around the field, of damage resulting from ray guns and one massive shot from a plasma rifle.” She paused.

  Sandra looked around with a stern gaze at the officers’ faces and smiled wryly. “I want to know who does the fleet support today?” She pulled out the pack of notices of resignation. “Are you planning to overthrow the queen? Or is this also the handiwork of Baron Medjid?”

  There was a chorus of indignant voices, and from the somewhat embarrassed looks, Sandra realized that she had been right to take the risk in sharing her information. “What do I do with these resignations, officers?”

  They all shuffled in indecision. Finally, Admiral Germain stepped forward, the commander of the second squadron.

  “You have to understand us, Admiral Sandra, we are faithful servants of the throne, but we regard the emergence of ...” she grimaced, unable to find the words. “Those ships with men imply that you distrust the fleet. Who, better than you, knows the power of the fleet? Do we deserve this?”

  Sandra nodded. “No, you do not deserve this.” She paused, then continued, choosing her words carefully. “No one doubts your skill and ability, Admiral, as well as the power of our fleet, but can I ask you a question?”

  Everyone froze.

  “Do you know what a Scarlet Prince is?” The admiral was silent.

  “Then maybe you’ve heard something about Balrogs?”

  Admiral Shantorin stepped forward and raised her chin in her habitual manner and proudly replied. “We are ready to face any enemy.”

  “I have no doubt,” Sandra nodded and hurriedly, not giving the conversation time to again return to topics of wounded pride and accusations of lack of confidence in the fleet, she asked. “Does that portrait still hang on the wall in your office, Admiral?”

  Shantorin stared at her, and Sandra patiently explained. “I refer to the portrait of Admiral Tatiana Chekhov.”

  The admiral was somewhat taken aback by such an unexpected question.

  “Yes, but ...”

  “Then perhaps you can recall what she said about knowledge of the enemy? Knowledge of the enemy is half the victory.”

  In the silence, Germain’s voice sounded out sharply.

  “Let me remind you of another of Admiral Chekhov’s dictums. weak flanks mean certain defeat.”

  Sandra turned sharply towards her.

  “Do you doubt their ability to fight? I can tell you, though I wonder you have not already heard about this before Tera agreed the contract, she held trial battles...”

  But Germain interrupted her, twisting her lips contemptuously.

  “The captain of the flagship told us all about it. Perhaps they are bad at training for mock battle, but what can you expect from mercenaries, who are also men, and who knows about their morals...?”

  “As far as we know,” Shantorin pitched in, “they have fought against The Enemy for a hundred and fifty years, and during that time they managed to lose a third of the territory. Truly Chekhov was right when she said that an inept ally is more dangerous than a skillful enemy ...” She breathed in the air with a sob and said without thinking twice, “Also that stinking peasant man is always by the queen’s side!”

  A tense silence hung over the hall. Sandra stared Shantorin in the eyes. Everyone knew that her family cherished the hope to strengthen ties with the throne by a combination of the marriage of Tera to one of the sons of the head of the family. The gentle and passionate Eliey was a talented poet, to whom Tera had previously shown genuine interest, the more so since from a dynastic point of view, such a marriage fitted all the accepted criteria. Clearly, the admiral had a reason to feel aggrieved, but still, to come out with such an outburst, especially in the presence of strangers, and at such a moment ... Shantorin could not deal with Sandra’s angry look and lowered her eyes.

  “Captain, tell us everything we have established about the fight with Baron Medjid’s people,” Sandra said slowly.

  The captain stepped forward, looked around the tense faces of the officers, and spoke in a dry, official tone as if emphasizing that all this was irrelevant to her personal feelings, and was merely a set of dry, hard facts.

  “Judging from computer analysis and a reconstruction of the flow of the fight, Tera was protected by just one person.” She paused, allowing the officers to realize the balance of the forces involved, then she finished. “From the reports of witnesses to the attack in Emilat, as well as from the characteristics of the direction and force of the blows, it could be only one person—the liaison officer, Noble Don Yv, nicknamed Lucky.”

  Sandra’s cold eyes scanned the officers and she asked them sternly. “So, are you still inclined to believe that the dons can’t fight?”

  When the officers left the palace, Sandra tur
ned to Umarka and roared at her furiously.

  “Well, where can this badly-behaved girl be hanging around now? First the Peers, and now the fleet! Who now will take responsibility for her mistakes?”

  Umarka stared at her. Sandra sighed wearily and said. “You know what bothers me the most? Not one of our agents has caught even a rumor about what the Reymeyks are up to.”

  8

  Tera tried to open her eyes, but the movement of her eyelids resulted in a terrible pain in her temples. She moaned involuntarily. Someone’s cool hand immediately went to her forehead, and Tera froze instinctively. Seconds later, she had remembered everything, and despite the pain, her eyes opened wide. Above her, a man’s unshaven face looked down at her. She stared at him for a few seconds, then, overcoming the pain, she moved her eyes. He appeared to be alone, although the guards could be nearby.

  “Well, thank God you have woken up!” He smiled with relief and shook his head. “Getting shot by a stun gun twice in one day ...”

  Tera tried to move her tongue. She succeeded. She turned to Yv and murmured, “Where is the baron?”

  Yv shrugged.

  “Her body lies not far away, Your Majesty.”

  Tera instinctively raised her hands to her face, and an acute pain pierced her temples. Her hands fell away helplessly, and she moaned. Yv hurriedly put a damp cloth on her forehead. A few moments later she said, “So you know?”

  Yv nodded. “The baron took off your mask.”

  Both were silent.

  “I never thought,” he squirmed, “that you and me, in that hotel, really did, you know what ...”

  Tera blushed. What can you do with men? No tact!

  She responded sharply. “You, my dear, were in such a state that all you could manage to do was throw up.”

  After blurting this out, she pulled herself together and tried to sit up with a jerk. She almost succeeded, but Yv’s arm around her back was very helpful. When the fire flies disappeared from before her eyes, Tera looked around. They were in a small clearing, where a disc flyer could not reach them unless it was standing on end.