Last of the Immortals (The Jessica Keller Chronicles Book 3)

by Blaze Ward

  She had an amazing crew. She needed to appreciate them out loud more.

  “Single vessel, Commander,” the flag centurion replied, cycling through screens and messages. “Semi–local wildcat miner or something. Dropped down from Jumpspace at the very edge of the gravity well going full tilt and immediately broadcast a mayday signal about an Imperial fleet coming. Tamara pushed the big red button. Here we are.”

  “Anybody behind him? And does everyone have their emergency survival suits ready?” Jessica asked as she buckled herself in.

  If it was Götterdämmerung, she needed to be prepared. The flag bridge was designed to be the single most survivable spot on Auberon. She was still expecting to get intimate with an Imperial battleship. There might be nothing that survived. The Red Admiral was certainly planning to treat them like a winter turkey, carved into small pieces.

  If she let him.

  “Negative on company,” Enej replied. “Affirmative on preparations. Chief engineer has been on everyone’s butts to have everything checked out, updated, and either repaired or tossed.”

  “Very nicely done, everyone,” she called out to the whole room. Smiles over shoulders greeted her.

  She pushed the comm button and prepared for war.

  “Bridge, this is Keller,” Jessica said with a nod to herself. “Are you ready to hand off?”

  “Affirmative, sir,” Tamara replied instantly. “You have the flag. One vessel, closing quickly. No immediate threat.”

  “Prepare to send him a message,” Jessica continued. “I’ll live with the lag time right now.”

  Centurion Giroux came onto the line. “Go ahead, Commander.”

  “This is Command Centurion Keller. The Ballard system is under martial law awaiting the Imperial fleet. Reply to this message with your sensor logs and any pertinent personal observations. Then get clear from the area as soon as possible. Stop. Giroux, send that on a tight–beam loop until he acknowledges. Then feed his information to everyone that needs it.”

  “Roger that.”

  Jessica considered the scenario while she waited for the message to cross the distance and return. Right now, the two communicants were almost fifteen light seconds apart.

  “Flight deck,” she keyed another channel. “Stand everybody down for now, but keep them on Alert–8 status. Wachturm is close, but I don’t think he’s here yet. Naps are fine, but no showers.”

  Alert–8. Eight minutes from signal to having the entire wing in the sky, instead of just two fighters.

  As always, Iskra replied with a single text message across the bottom of the screen rather than an audio message. There was probably nothing Jessica could do to break her of that, short of taking all keyboards away from her. Even then, she would probably dictate a message and then instruct the system to send it as text.

  Iskra epitomized hard–headed, like so much of the rest of the crew.

  Stand down acknowledged.

  That was it. All that needed to be said. It was enough.

  Jessica’s screen suddenly lit up with information. Schematics of a nearby star system, orbital paths of several starships, Order of Battle for an Imperial battle squadron. Details.

  She felt an eyebrow go up involuntarily. The person who organized this information had to have been a fleet officer at some point. It was stripped down, organized, tagged, and even properly indexed. That miner had even made a very good stab at identifying the classes of the enemy vessels, and not just their size rating. Plugged into Auberon’s databanks, she suddenly knew what she was facing.

  It wasn’t pretty.

  A team of three escort frigates, instead of the usual four. The same light cruiser SturmTeufel that had been with him at Qui–Ping. A Capital–class battlecruiser, possibly Petrograd or London. Certainly a sister of Muscva, who had died at Qui–Ping.

  And the great white whale.

  Imperial Fighting Vessel Amsel. The Blackbird. Pride of the Imperial Fleet.

  Imperial Admiral of the Red Emmerich Wachturm. The master.

  Up until this moment, Jessica had always secretly hoped that they had been wrong. That this was just a wild goose chase to the boonies. A training exercise put together as a practical joke by that man, to get even with her for the Long Raid.

  A distraction.

  But no, there he was.

  Incoming.

  The red devil of her nightmares, come for her soul.

  If he could take it.

  Deep inside, Jessica felt Kali–ma stir.

  For a moment, the Goddess of War looked out through her eyes. Jessica felt happy warmth flood through her. It was like that moment when she faced down Ian Zhao for the throne of Corynthe. She’d felt something like Arnulf’s ghost smile down at her then.

  The Final Battle was almost upon them.

  Jessica scrolled the information down until she saw the signature at the bottom. Wm. “Wild Bill” Williams, RAN ’58. A man old enough to be her father, literally. But an officer and a gentleman too, once upon a time.

  “Giroux,” she said finally. The pause had been minute outside her head, but eternal within. “Flag’s compliments to Centurion Williams and a personal thank you from me. Hopefully I can buy him a drink when this is all over. Send.”

  She closed the channel and sat down to digging into the information she had. Not much had changed from yesterday, but now she knew he was close and what he was bringing. It was still a battleship against her and Moirrey, but she had surety now.

  The Red Admiral was coming.

  Do your worst.

  Chapter XXXIV

  Date of the Republic June 16, 394 Alexandria Station, Ballard

  One of the downsides to having an AI around, Sykes decided, especially one you didn’t trust, was the need to keep extensive records, printed as hardcopy and stored in various locations around the station. They were bulky, heavy, and hard to wade through. They were also immune to the beast sneaking in and editing schematics in such a way that could hide something important from her masters.

  This particular volume was roughly fifty years old and weighed more than six kilograms, with colorful fold–out diagrams and copious indexing, printed in a tiny font that required him to pull out special reading glasses, helpfully attached, to study.

  Sykes smiled.

  You had to read between the lines to see it, but the man in charge of station security at the time this book was written had really disliked the Sentience. The first section of the book was entitled Emergency Operations and read like a how–to guide to disable the AI in the event that she got out of hand. Or something went wrong with the station.

  Or just because it was Tuesday.

  Where to cut wires. Where to splice them in. Relays you could close or re–route as needed to hobble or blind her.

  Everything a visitor like Sykes needed to kill a goddess.

  She was still secure in her inner core. Those parts of the station that had been first lofted into space a thousand–odd years ago were wired into her nervous system, and redundant enough that she could compensate, but anything beyond frame nine could be cut. And had been designed and built in such a way that you didn’t have to stick your arm into the lion’s cage in order to do so.

  Sykes looked at the room around him. This certainly didn’t look like the lion’s den, but he supposed the whole station qualified.

  He had made himself a little nest near a long–since–unused operations center. There was an emergency decontamination shower, so he had access to a toilet and water, plus enough food to get him through the next few days of hiding from the periodic, amateurish sweeps. There was even an emergency one–man drop–pod in a nearby bulkhead that would blast him to safety in under twenty seconds if he was still here.

  He had left all the electronics off, just to be safe.

  Certainly, the Sentience would be able to locate him if he turned on anything important, but hot–wiring lights and heat to make the room a little more livable wouldn’t get anyone’s attention, un
less he did something to draw them here.

  This room was a leftover from one of the previous expansions, so it was probably meant to be used as a backup facility, in case something happened to the one of the main ones, up two decks and out a dozen frames from the core, in the newest part of the station.

  He was safe here. Now all he had to do was wait for the Admiral to arrive.

  Ξ

  “So,” Suvi asked her quietly. “Are you in?”

  Moirrey paused the schematics on the screen and dropped them to a thirty percent transparency mask so she could look at the Sentience’s face on the screen behind it.

  It were a daft way to ask the question, but she did suppose that it were appropriate. After all, they were about to commit the same sorts of mischief as had been played on 2218 Svati Prime, once upon a time.

  Right now, though, it were just the two of them.

  An’ this woman really did need her help. The others were really just window dressing at this point. Sure, the doc over on the couch were a smart fellow, but he were all book–learning and stuff. Never been elbows deep in a dead machine with a welding laser and a camera while things was on fire around you. And Arlo, standing beside the door, knew all abouts blowing stuff up, but that was basic wiring and boom things. Nothing sophisticated.

  This, this were a whole ‘nother matter.

  They was likely to be some fine citizens down below right pissed if they ever found out. And probably a bunch o’folks back on Ladaux that would be after her head.

  Moirrey understood right then what Lady Keller had meant about being able to say she were just following orders. As an excuse, it stunk like a three–days–dead chicken, but the orders had been very specific.

  She wondered if Commander Keller would hang for it.

  Maybe.

  She had certainly known it was a risk. Else why send Moirrey over with a brand new credit card and a blank shopping list, if not to watch her max it out doin’ silly things?

  “Centurion?” Suvi continued.

  “Aye, ma’am,” Moirrey said. “It’ll work fine. If we had more time, they’s probably some improvements I could make to the design, but it’ll do the trick for now. Long term’s a whole different bucket of fish, but we’ll have time to fix it then, if’n we’s still about to worry.”

  “Very good, Centurion Kermode,” the AI said. “Let us begin by…Oh my…”

  Moirrey’s head came up as the tone of Suvi’s voice changed in the middle of the sentence. One moment, everything were fine and dandy. Then it changed. Slurred, kinda. Dropped a third. Got emotional and stuff.

  “What’s up, Suvi?” she asked carefully.

  “Something has just severed most of my internal sensors and controls,” the Sentience replied quietly.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Moirrey, I’ve gone blind.”

  PART III: GÖTTERDÄMMERUNG

  Chapter XXXV

  Imperial Founding: 172/06/16. Ballard system

  It was time.

  Emmerich kept repeating those words in his head as the squadron made the last short hop inwards for the final battle.

  Jessica Keller.

  She had managed to stave off utter defeat at Third Iger after he had mousetrapped Loncar. She had made the Fribourg Empire dance to her tune along the Cahllepp frontier and committed long–term psychological damage at 2218 Svati Prime. She had escaped him at Qui–Ping. She had personally embarrassed him at Sarmarsh IV and Petron.

  Now it would end.

  Jessica Keller had nowhere to run.

  The battleship Amsel dropped out of Jumpspace safely outside of Ballard’s gravity well like one of the great whales of the Homeworld breaching. Come to think of it, Ballard was known for several species of cetacean that had been introduced, before Armageddon. Perhaps they would appreciate the irony and majesty of the situation, were they able to see the deep skies above them.

  The flag bridge around him came alive with voices and real–time sensor information.

  Below them, Ballard. Nearly a dozen major orbital stations, but only two he was interested in. The local militia would have a squadron of defense fighters to engage, like mosquitos. Not up to war border standards, but a force that would need to be reduced to make sure he could not be overwhelmed.

  Pity he couldn’t mask launching a stealth missile at the station, like Jessica Keller frequently did when crash launching her little hawks. Still, they were high on the agenda.

  But first…

  “Communications officer,” he said. “Order the entire system to surrender immediately or face imminent destruction. At the same time, send the coded pulse to our agent.”

  That would take nearly thirty seconds to arrive. At least that long to return.

  That left him time to study her as Alexandria Station began to edge around the back of Ballard from his emergence point.

  Auberon and her squadron were nestled deep in the gravity well, like ticks on the back of a hunting dog. All the usual suspects were there: Brightoak, Rajput, and CR–264.

  And Kasum had gambled after all. The Emperor would be pleased to know he had guessed right. The First Lord had sent a battlecruiser along with Keller. One more victim awaiting the executioner.

  “Gentlemen,” Emmerich said to the room with a harsh smile. “We will proceed on plan. Maintain squadron formation and bring us to attack speed.”

  “Aye, aye, Admiral,” Captain Baumgärtner nodded.

  While most of his attention was centered on the projection in front of him, Emmerich watched his flag captain out of the corner of his eye as the man turned and began to bark out orders, mostly confirmations. All of this had been planned well in advance, and confirmed from the edge of the system twenty minutes ago.

  Very shortly, young lady. Very shortly.

  Chapter XXXVI

  Date of the Republic June 16, 394 Above Ballard

  “Commander,” Denis’s tight voice came over the comm. “He’s here.”

  Jessica almost sighed with relief when the sensors finally detected the Imperial fleet coming out of Jumpspace.

  All the planning. All the mischief. All the nightmares.

  It was finally done.

  The local area projection she had been studying was already live. Now it began to fill with spheres and vectors, zones and ranges. Six enemy vessels coming down the gravity well at them. Not full tilt, like she might have done in his place, but fast enough. And from the vectors, he was coming after her immediately, and not going after either of the two stations in orbit with her.

  At least she didn’t have to chase him. He was coming to her.

  Auberon certainly couldn’t run from him, even if that had been her plan.

  He knew that.

  The man was even coming in on just about the right path, never being one for misdirection when he had the killing edge.

  She envisioned the Red Admiral on his bridge, smiling right now, possibly laughing as his plan came to fruition and he had her trapped. He would be prepared for Mischief from Moirrey Kermode.

  Jessica and Oz had a whole different level of things planned.

  “Squadron, this is the flag,” she said calmly. Calmness in a commander was infectious, as was panic. “All hands to battle stations. Execute Ballard Defense Plan Two. Break. Auberon and Ballard Defense Station: crash launch your flight wings and prepare to receive the enemy squadron. Flight deck, send out package number two with the wing. Stand by to launch package number one, but we won’t need it immediately. Comm, notify Alexandria Station to evacuate all hands immediately.”

  Around her, the lights turned softly red and the alarm began to hoot again. Very few people had come off alert from the asteroid miner’s arrival two hours ago, but everything now was terminal. Enej was already wriggling into his emergency suit, so she did the same. Fifteen seconds now was time well invested, regardless of their regular training to do it in the dark and smoke of a damaged vessel.

  Around her, Auberon awoke from her nap and
came alive. The entire hull took on a new urgency as generators spun up and locked in, shields were charged, and the crew did the hundreds of little things summed up in the words battle stations. Even the floor shivered as the pilot, Nada, lit the engines and turned Auberon’s prow into the teeth of the storm.

  Ξ

  Arott had been scheduled to come off shift nearly an hour ago, but something about the flavor of the day had held him in his command chair. Perhaps he had known. There were only so many ways to handle the element of surprise in a scenario like this one. Either you came in hot and heavy, or you let everyone settle down just enough to get comfortable before jumping them.

  Since Admiral Wachturm hadn’t been baying at the miner’s heels, Arott had kept Stralsund at her highest alert. Another twenty minutes of quiet and he would have had to start sending people for naps, but the man was here now.

  He keyed the ship–wide comm live as he took a breath.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said firmly. “The Imperial fleet has arrived. First Lord selected us out of all of Home Fleet to be here today. His trust in you is well founded. Now we will show the rest of Aquitaine what it means to be the very best.”

  Arott turned his attention to the pilot.

  “Keller expects us to be her shield wall today, Mhasalkar,” he said. “You’ll have to get us in close, and then get us out as best we can. It will be very close quarters with the big guns.”

  The man turned and looked back over his shoulder with a serious smile and a wild gleam in his eyes.

  “That I can promise you, sir.”

  Arott nodded. Stralsund would get her measure of attention, just because of her size and firepower, but he suspected that everything over there already had Keller’s name written on it.

  Ξ

  “You heard the lady,” Kigali chirped into the ship–wide comm. “We’re on point for act one, but I figure they’ll ignore us on the first go around. Everybody had their potty breaks?”

  He was rewarded by a line of faces smiling and laughing back at him on the command console. The wardroom had a pair of thirty–liter jerry cans on wheels that had been adapted years ago to hold hot coffee. Nobody had to leave their station for a jolt during a battle, and everyone had snacks stashed close at hand.