by Gorman, K.
“Grand Regent presiding,” Tillerman said, her voice sharp. “Captain Arnelli, hand over the helm.”
“Handing over. Grand Regent presiding.” The man―Arnelli―stood from the seat and gave her a short bow as he stepped aside.
“Thank you, Captain.” Tillerman snapped a bow to her. “Regent, the helm is yours.”
It was then, when her mind scrambled for the appropriate response and instead came up with a dearth of military lingo, that she realized just how out of her depth she was.
But she had a fleet, and a command that she now couldn’t pass on until death.
“Thank you, Commander,” she said smoothly, vowing to make that talk she had planned with Tillerman a priority. “Please, open a call to the Fallon Empire.”
“Which ship?”
She thought for a moment.
“Manila. Ramesh seems reasonable.”
The windows on the screen spread apart, and a comms tone rang, lighter and less obtrusive than she was used to. After a few moments, they caught the brief sight of the Fallon Empire’s emblem in the middle of the screen before the call was routed to Ramesh in the command square.
“Grand Regent Makos, to what do I owe the honor?”
“Hello, General. Project Tartarus had a fit on the way over that has led me to suspect it may be something more,” she said. “Given the circumstances and the nature of his powers, I will be devoting a few sensors to check for Shift Events on the planet. I would also like to schedule another call in two hours. I believe we can all get on the same footing, or at least make it a little more even and a lot less tense.”
Bravo, Tia said. That sounded like you know what you’re doing.
It’s amazing what fifteen seasons of Moon Sailor will do. They did include command lingo as part of my flight and navigation training. Never thought I’d be using it.
“Thank you for the information. Though we would appreciate a shared data plan, we will also do our own scans. Our data would be much better served if you would return Tylanus into our custody. I have a transport waiting to retrieve him.”
Hah.
“I’m afraid he is busy in the Medical bay and will be remaining in our custody as long as he wishes. We can discuss more at a later time. How is my sister?”
“Healthy and violent, as usual. Last I checked, she was not happy with you.”
“So few people are, these days,” she drawled.
A second comms tone sounded, and she glanced at Tillerman.
“Finlai Center Core,” she said. “You’ll want to take this.”
She nodded and turned back to Ramesh. “Thank you, General, I have another call. I will speak with you later.”
“Thank you for the information, Grand Regent.”
The call ended, and the windows and charts on the screen scrunched back in.
“Finlai Center Core?”
“Grand Regent Lora Nolen on the Aquila.”
“What’s the history? Are we allied?”
“They were allied with former Grand Regent Leisler,” Tillerman informed her. “They are not allied with you.”
Ah. Tread carefully, then.
She nodded to the screen. “Put her on.”
The comms screen appeared again, this time with a woman’s face and a teal-painted command station behind her.
“You must be the new Grand Regent,” the woman said.
No time for pleasantries, apparently.
“Indeed.”
Grand Regent Lora Nolen said nothing for a moment, though her expression visibly twisted toward a sneer as she gave Karin a look-over, her eyes cold. Half of her temple was cyberized, sporting a piece of smooth metal that matched another piece on her jawline. A subdermal implant on her other temple flickered.
That, she thought, was a comms unit. Likely sending or receiving a message. The cyborg she’d fought in Macedonia had used a subvocalization implant to communicate, too.
“You don’t look like a Grand,” the woman said after an ugly pause.
“No, I suppose my bodily modification took on a more organic theme than you’re used to,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
Nolen’s eyes narrowed. Her gaze flickered over Karin again. Trying to see the modifications?
“Well, you could die,” she said. “I suppose that’s the only way to get Tri-Quad control back into Centauri hands.”
Well, at least she was speaking to her in System rather than the Italian patois the Centauri appeared to use as their own standard.
Karin laughed. “Really? We’ve just met, and you’re already bringing up the death threats?”
“You can’t even speak our language,” Nolen spat, her mouth twisting. “You are no fit leader.”
“Then perhaps you’d better work on your electoral system,” she suggested. “Suns, is everyone as xenophobic as you, or are you just looking for an excuse?”
“Centauri Prime will not have you. You’re not fit. I will just be expediting the process.”
“Right, well, if all you’re going to do is bandy about threats, I’ll tell you right now they are useless―I had my sense of fear stripped during my last bout of modification. So let’s skip it and get down to business. I have two assets on board that are invaluable to figuring out the source of the Shadow attacks and defeating it.” Technically a white lie―she was an asset, and so was Tia, which would make them and Tylanus three assets, but she didn’t think Nolen would care. “If you’d like to chat later, once I’ve sorted them, I am happy to share information. Whatever agreement you had with Leisler, I’m sure we can come to a similar one.”
As she spoke, the woman’s face had set in a hard, ugly grimness, a cold anger reflecting in her narrowed eyes and tightened jaw muscles.
“You are not a fit leader for a Centauri nation, leastwise the Tri-Quad. If you can’t find the effort to speak with me now, then you will hear from me later. Good day.”
With that, the screen went blank.
Well, that could have gone better.
She turned to Tillerman. “So, what are the chances that she attacks us in the next five minutes?”
“She won’t,” the commander replied. “She doesn’t know you. Not yet.”
“Ah. How much have you told her about me?”
“Me? Nothing. We don’t talk about our Grand Regent. I don’t doubt, however, that there are inter-ship rumors. We were allied before a week ago, and there were a lot of connections and friendships between our two nations’ soldiers.” Tillerman looked over at her. “Unless your other, former parties shared information, then she will only have rumor, and the video of former Grand Regent Leisler’s death.”
Other parties?
Ah.
A laugh burst out of her. “Well, I guess that cat’s out of the bag. Both Fallon and the Alliance are very sharey with my information. I’d encouraged it, too, thinking that a transparent method would win more people to our side―after all, what psychotic moron wouldn’t want to fight against our three systems’ specific extinction event?” She shook her head again and let out a sigh. “She’s going to be a problem, isn’t she?”
Tillerman nodded. “Possibly. You should know that she was sleeping with the former Grand Regent. I believe it helped broker our Alliance.”
Oh, great. And she’d likely analyzed the shit out of the video where Karin mercilessly cut down her former lover. While naked.
Yeah, Nolen was going to be a problem.
“Sol’s fucking child. I just want to figure out this Shadow shit and stop it. I suppose that is too much to ask.” She shook her head and glanced to the screen. “Well―”
“She’s right,” said a thickly accented voice. “You are not fit to lead us.”
A man had stood up from the comms station to the left, his cybernetic hand clenched in a fist. A hard, angry expression had transformed his mouth into a twisted line, his eyes bright and cold as he fixed her with a glare.
Beside her, Tillerman shifted. “Lieutenant Bourbeau, do
you have a challenge to offer our Grand Regent?”
“Yes,” Bourbeau said, lifting his chin. “One that you should be offering, traitor. How can you stand there and let this monster take the Grand Regent’s command?”
Given that he was speaking in a heavily accented System and not Centauri, she guessed that he wanted her, specifically, to hear what he had to say.
He also referred to the old Grand Regent and did not call you by title, which implies that he does not consider you the new Regent.
Like I’ve said, if they have a problem with my taking control, they should have a serious introspection on their elections system―or lack thereof.
Actually, I think they have elections and rank promotion similar to Fallon, just not for the Regent position.
Tillerman lifted an eyebrow at Bourbeau.
“Well, I prefer my skin intact, for one. The rest are personal reasons.” She made a gesture and bowed out. “Come on, then, you might as well step in.”
He took his headset off with a flourish and threw it down and stalked around the console. The cybernetics under his skin shifted, and Tia tagged them as he approached.
Muscular enhancement, subdermal armor, likely a reflex booster and a medical augment, the usual comms link in his head―
Are we in trouble? she asked.
Tia’s laugh was a short, savage bark across her mind. Suns, no. We’re going to rip his throat out in a second flat.
Already, her vision had sharpened, and her mind collected down. Her gaze darted across him, reading him. Power fluctuated through her nerves, but she ignored the call of the dimensional boundary, instead focusing on the strength and precision in her musculature and the newly developed combat skills Tia had programmed into her brain and body.
All those back-to-back missions with Fallon had been useful for solidifying her combat reflexes.
Bourbeau stopped several paces in front of her. The circle around them had cleared. Tillerman, she noticed, had only moved a meter back.
She lifted an eyebrow toward Bourbeau. “So, are you going to kill me, or will I die of boredom instead?”
Anger crumpled his face. He yelled something in Centauri―it sounded impressive and passionate―and charged.
She caught the punch he threw, shattered the hand that drew a knife against the nearest station’s frame, stabbed the blade into his throat, and cut down deep.
He screamed. Blood splattered on her face and neck. Warmth gushed over her hands.
“Bourbeau, challenge failed,” Captain Arnelli announced. “All hail Grant Regent Karin Makos of the Menassi Tri-Quad Alliance!”
Behind her, every occupant of the room echoed the call.
Then, silence fell again.
Christ, she thought. I sound like a cult leader.
She let Bourbeau drop to bleed out on the floor and turned back to the command station.
Tillerman shrugged. “He was also sleeping with Leisler.”
I’m sensing a common theme, Tia commented.
She sighed and looked down at the fresh blood that painted her face and armor. The same cyborg from earlier―Malouf―offered her the same wet, slightly bloody cloth.
She took it, flipped it to the cleaner side, and wiped most of the blood off. “Can we replace his station?”
“Yes. I’m sure there’s someone who would like a promotion.” Tillerman tilted her head, taking in her newly-blood splattered form. Already, a medic had appeared next to Bourbeau’s body and was checking for life signs. Judging by the mess she’d made of his throat and how fast he’d exsanguinated, he was likely already halfway to brain death.
Unless they have some magical way of putting his brain into stasis, he’ll be dead in two minutes.
I thought it took five minutes for brain death, she replied.
Yes, it normally would. But not with that blood loss.
Gods.
“Why don’t you head to your room and clean up,” Tillerman suggested. “We can handle things here.” She nodded to the cyborg. “Specialist Malouf can show you to your quarters.”
“Yes. Unless anyone else wants a go?” She turned to face the rest of the room, her gaze darting to meet a number of stares. “No one? Great. If anyone has any questions or problems, keep them for tomorrow. Let’s all try not to die today.”
She nodded to Malouf and followed him to the nearest door.
Chapter Nineteen
“Well, that was quite an entrance,” she said, wrinkling her nose as she took in the state of her armor―she could practically feel the blood getting dry and tacky on the surface. “Tell me, are most regime changes like this?”
“The position of Grand Regent is rooted in violence, and served for life,” Malouf informed her. His accent was smooth, his tone deep. “I expect there will be others.”
She blew out a breath. “Just how many people did the former Grand Regent sleep with? Suns.”
“Surprisingly few,” Malouf intoned. “I expect any others will simply be due to the instability created by a regime change and the fact that you are not known to us.”
“Ah. And how about yourself? How are you feeling about me?”
“Like Commander Tillerman said, I like to keep my skin intact.” He gave her a sidelong look. “Regent, may I ask a question?”
“Yes.”
“Did you really modify yourself to feel no fear?”
She had been wondering if anyone was going to take note of that part.
“Sort of. My fear emotion is routed through a series of combat-based responses. It still exists, but in a more analytical state rather than the overwhelming fight-or-flight expression of a regular, unmodified human. It’s still useful as a warning sign, after all.”
“Ah.” He paused for a long moment, looking like he was thinking of something. Then, he nodded farther up the hall. “Your quarters are kept on the same level as the command deck. There are five rooms in the suite including a medical bay. Security will be coded to your biosign, since you don’t have an implant.”
The comms device in her pocket beeped. She pulled it out and pressed the button at the end. “Yes?”
“Finlai Center Core is attacking two of our ships. We need you back here.”
“Well, that was quick,” she said. “On my way.”
She pivoted and headed back to the bridge, Malouf following in her wake.
It had been, what, three minutes? Five? Ten, if she were being very generous.
Seven minutes and thirty-four seconds, Tia thought to her.
That’s right. These days, her internal clock was frighteningly accurate.
They hadn’t even had time to clean up the blood. One technician was working on it with a cleaning bot and a sponge.
She strode past her and into the command station. “What have we got?”
“A Center Core ship fired lasers at two of our corvettes. Claims they were infringing on territory.”
“Technically, we’re all infringing on UN territory.” Which reminded her, she had to have a call with them in a few hours. She sighed. “All right. If we decide to buy into that excuse, did any of our ships get too close to theirs?”
“No. Their gunship entered a drift that took it within terms of engagement range,” Tillerman said.
“That sounds complicatedly specific, but I think I get the gist―they arranged for themselves to be too close, shot at our ship, and are now blaming us for their shooting?”
Tillerman hesitated. “Yes. That about sums it up.”
“And the real reason is that Nolen doesn’t like me, right?”
“Most likely.”
Karin rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I don’t have time for this. None of us has time for this. I assume she hasn’t gotten serious and tried to actually destroy our ships?”
“No. That would require at least a five-centimeter laser to get through the shields.”
She glanced over to the commander’s face, trying to decide if she was joking or not. “What do you think she’s
trying to accomplish? So far, it’s just annoying me.”
“That’s likely her goal. Annoy you. Destabilize your credibility.” Tillerman glanced over. “This is the Centauri equivalent of rattling sabers. We were allied for a long time, so she has a good idea of our defenses and armament. She knows exactly how many shots she can fire without inflicting actual damage, and she knows that you will have to be on the bridge, responding to every one of them. If she were to make a real move to destroy you, we would be seeing more than simple lasers.”
Karin gritted her teeth, glaring at the map with a tired wariness.
We don’t have time for this.
“Well, she was right about one thing. I am not Centauri, and I do not fit in. This is also not Centauri space.”
She paused, gaze darting over the map field, considering. No one said anything.
This was a turning point, she felt. They were all waiting to see what she’d do next.
She crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring the blood.
“The Fallon Empire has a protocol of swift and full response. I don’t see why we should be different.” She turned to Captain Arnelli, who had been standing off to the side. “How are our shields?”
He looked taken aback by the question, as if surprised she had addressed him.
“Capable enough,” he replied, his tone cautious. “In what context are you asking?”
She gestured to the screen. “If they came at us, guns blazing, could I relax for a few minutes before they managed to get through?”
He hesitated. “Yes, though smaller ships with smaller generators will be more vulnerable, and they know that.”
“Good.” She broke off and strode closer to the holoscreen, taking a closer look at the map. “Is there some Centauri decorum about not attacking their main ships?”
“No,” Tillerman said. “Why? What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that I really don’t have time to fuck around, playing darts,” she said. “I’m going to send a message. Someone point out their second-best ship. Everyone else, get ready to move. Tell the fleet to stand by and keep their shields active.” She glanced down. “If anyone’s going to get more blood on their hands, it might as well be me.”
Tillerman gave her an odd look.