by Cameron, TR
“One eight.”
Kraada made a sound somewhere between negation and amusement. “That’s all? I thought from your report it would be something far more dire. The loss of eight ships is easily accommodated, especially with the Sapphire Sky projected to be in range soon.” He stood, drawing her to her feet, and gestured her to a sideboard where a light meal waited. “Please, sit and eat. In between bites, you can tell me what transpired.”
Indraat filled her plate and sat down at the table across from her uncle. She ate methodically, filling in bits and pieces of the battle for him as she went along. By the time the food was finished, she had completed the tale.
“So, what are you not telling me?” Kraada had a talent for reading people, and Indraat Vray was definitely carrying a secret.
She gave a short laugh. “It’s that obvious, is it?”
“Only to me. This is, after all, what I do.”
Indraat pushed back from the table and paced while she apparently searched for the words she needed. Finally, she turned to her uncle, placed her hands on the chair, and said, “It was incompetence. Plain and simple.”
Kraada nodded, unsurprised. “On whose part?”
“The Jade Breeze. Upon taking damage, the captain signaled a retreat to all of our forces. We were in an advantageous position, and if we’d pressed, we would’ve defeated them. In the worst case, we would’ve drawn more of them in to be eliminated by the sacrifice. I myself was forced to let the trespassers’ ship fly free from under my guns in order to support the Jade Breeze. But for that cowardly command, we would’ve had the first part of our revenge.”
“That is an incendiary accusation, Niece.”
“Yes. But it doesn’t make it any less true.”
“I had deduced he was a fool, but hoped he was sufficient in a military capacity. Apparently not?”
“Definitely not.” Indraat leaned forward on the chair to better meet his gaze. “The destruction of at least four ships was the direct result of his incompetence.”
“Somehow, I doubt he’ll accept responsibility for this, am I correct?”
She laughed. “He’s like fresh-forged armor plate, nothing sticks to him. His former religious officer wasn’t in the wrong, regardless of the fate the gods chose for him within the lines.”
Kraada sighed and leaned back in his chair. “The messages I’ve had from Radith, the religious officer on that ship, echo your opinion. This is a conundrum, and no doubt. The emperor will look for someone to hang this supposed failure upon, and as the designated second-in-command, Marshal Drovaa may attempt to make sure that rope wraps around you.” He paused, thinking. “Of course, the truth is, that doing so would damage him as well, since he appointed you to that position. In front of Enjaaran, at least, perhaps the play is to maintain that all the decisions during the battle were tactically sound, and we simply overstepped in our haste to serve the gods.”
Indraat sat again and gave him a look.
“What, Niece? Speak freely.”
“It seems as if you are always several moves ahead, Uncle. I can achieve the same thing on the battlefield, but to be able to do it in the arena of politics….” Her voice trailed off, and she raised a hand in surrender.
“The one is no different than the other, my dear. The playing field just has more layers, and more pieces. The strategies and tactics are the same.”
A distant bell rang, the chime of someone at the entrance to the cathedral. “Unless I miss my guess, further conversation will need to wait. I believe we’re being summoned.” One of his eight came in a moment later to confirm an immediate appointment with the emperor.
* * *
Kraada and Indraat changed into appropriate costumes for the audience, then set off to the palace. Upon their arrival, they were led into the main throne room, rather than being diverted into the smaller, more intimate space from before. The emperor sat on his throne in full regalia, crown atop the long draping feathers that substituted for hair in the ruling family.
Before they got close enough to be overheard, Kraada whispered, “If I had known it would be in this room, I would’ve worn my armor.”
She nodded and said, “And I would’ve hidden a few more weapons.”
He gave her an inquiring look, and she inclined her head ever so slightly. Interesting. Bold.
Kraada ruffled his wings and spread his arms wide. “My emperor, may your servants approach?”
Enjaaran waved them on, not interested in yelling across the distance that separated them, and they continued to walk forward. Their progress cleared blocking pillars from their view, revealing that Marshal Drovaa and the captain of the Jade Breeze were both in attendance, and had gotten there before them. That had the potential to be a problem, but it was too early to worry about it.
Kraada gave Drovaa a guarded nod and received the same in return. Captain Traan Aras, on the other hand, bristled at Indraat, his eyes boring into her like lasers. Kraada noticed this in time to see her meet his optical assault with a toothy grin.
Finally, they reached the steps leading up to the emperor’s throne, and stopped there. Only members of the royal family and one hereditary servant could ever ascend the dais.
“Marshal, Hierarch, Captain, Commander. I’ve heard the reports of the war against those who call themselves humans. I am unimpressed. You assured me that this would be a simple task, and yet we’ve lost eight ships in a battle that can at best be called a draw, and might more appropriately be called a defeat. Would you care to explain yourselves?”
Kraada stepped into the center of the space before the dais, looking up at the emperor. He spread his wings and took a steadying breath, then folded both wings and hands prior to speaking.
“Who can know the will of the gods, Your Grace? The marshal and I could offer you a plethora of excuses explaining why the battle was not a decisive victory. These could include everything from the humans unexpectedly sensing the traps we’d laid for them to our decision to attack before the fortress was in position to support the assault. It could be attributed to the strategies concocted beforehand,” he looked pointedly at Drovaa as he said this, “or the tactics of the commander in that battle.” His gaze shifted to Captain Traan Aras, who didn’t back down. Kraada gave him a nod of acknowledgment.
“In any case, Your Grace, it is but a small setback on the way to a great victory. We have gathered important data about the enemy, including the fact that the two factions worked together to repulse our first wave. That alone is of enough strategic value to warrant the minimal losses we incurred during the battle.”
Kraada lifted his gaze up to the high ceiling of the palace as if he was seeking inspiration. In fact, he was leading the eyes of those assembled up to the mural on that distant surface. “The gods watch us here, as they do in my cathedral, as they do everywhere in our systems. They know our hearts, and they know our purpose is pure. That they have given us additional challenges in our path is a reward, not a punishment. The stronger this promised enemy is, the greater shall be our victory when we overcome them.” His eyes drifted back down to meet the emperor’s.
“Your Grace, I find this development to be entirely in keeping with the holy word, with prophecy, and with our expectations for the conquest of this new species.”
The emperor gave a grunt in return for Kraada’s bellicosity. “Marshal?”
Kraada yielded the center position to Drovaa, who stepped forward to claim it. This was the pivotal moment. He had two openings ahead of him, and which he chose would be quite instructive.
“I must agree with the Hierarch, your Eminence. This is but a transitory setback. If anything, it is a reminder we should not regard the enemy too lightly, but should focus on purity of strategy above all else, as we’ve done in campaigns past.” He gestured to take in both ship captains. “We have the right people, we have the right ideas. We will wait until all our forces are assembled, and then we’ll attack and not turn back until the humans are no more.”
Both men spoke together, “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Good. Get out of my sight and do not presume to return until you have something worth sharing.”
* * *
Hours later, Kraada was hosting Drovaa to an elegant meal. Indraat was nearby, unseen but listening in with Kraada’s attendants. “I thought for a moment you would choose the other path, my friend.”
Drovaa looked up, all innocence. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” He took a bite, chewing slowly and clearly savoring the taste.
“I’m sure you do. I left you one opening that would result in mutual support, and one opening that would require you to take an opposing position to mine. You stayed allied. I say that was a good decision.”
Drovaa shook his head. “It is always wheels within wheels within wheels with you.”
“Are you suggesting that it is not the same with you?” Kraada leaned back, glass in hand, and awaited the other man’s response.
“I believe that we play the game differently.” Drovaa Jat looked thoughtful for a moment, then continued, “Your strategy is secrecy, misdirection, influence, and stealth. My approach is more direct, overwhelming force applied judiciously.”
“Fair enough, fair enough. That is what makes us such complementary leaders, I guess. We think in similar directions, but we take different journeys to reach them.”
“True, true.” Drovaa stood and stretched his arms wide, his wings fanning out. “There is a great deal of planning to finish before we can restart the invasion. It’s best that I go get started on the overwhelming force part.”
“And I shall resume my nefarious efforts,” Kraada said with a laugh as he stood and gripped the other man’s forearm. He looked him in the eyes and held his gaze. “Before you depart, be aware that a debt might be owed. If it is, it is not my niece who will pay it.”
Drovaa didn’t flinch, and his only response was a quiet statement. “We shall see what the future brings, Hierarch.”
“So may it be, Marshal.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Starbase 9—long underappreciated due to its spot in the middle of the UAL’s chain of installations—was experiencing a new renaissance. Dry docks floated in space around it, and technicians poured over the vessels inside them, retrofitting wormhole drives onto the newer vessels of the Union fleet. Traffic in the system was intense, with additional personnel delegated to routing it hither and yonder to avoid collisions.
Although, there were many ships still out defending other starbases, patrolling, and on picket duty in the forward sectors, a disproportionate number had gathered here. This would be the center of the defense movement for as long as it lasted, with starbase 3 ready to pick up that task should nine become imperiled.
The Washington, DC had docked several days earlier, and her crew had rotated out for shore leave, shift by shift. Only a skeleton staff drawn from the starbase personnel was aboard, overseeing the ship’s upgrades and repairs.
Captain James Okoye, Lieutenant Commander Anderson Cross, and Lieutenant Commander Kate Flynn waited together in a nondescript room next to a large auditorium. Each was in full dress, black-on-black uniforms with shining DC badges at their sleeve tops, rank insignias on the shoulders, and in Okoye’s case, combat ribbons marching toward his wrists.
“What I wouldn’t give for a cup of coffee,” Okoye said with a sigh. This drew a small laugh out of both Cross and Kate, who well knew their captain’s prodigious appetite for the Navy’s legal stimulant.
“So, what’s the deal, here, Captain?” They hadn’t been given the reason behind the order to come to this location.
“Oh, just a little pomp and circumstance,” Okoye replied with the grin that told Cross he knew more than he was saying.
They ran out of time to discuss it, as an ensign opened the door and beckoned them forward. Okoye stood and grabbed the polished black cane with the chrome handle he was using to help him get around. While mostly recovered from his injuries, and at a speed much greater than that of any ordinary human, Cross thought, the captain still needed a little more rehabilitation before he would be shipshape. In the meantime, Cross hoped to be allowed to continue commanding the Washington.
Okoye led, and his two junior officers followed behind.
Cross blinked at the lights that bore down upon the stage in the otherwise dimly lit auditorium. Ahead of him, he saw all the admirals present at the base in full uniform, standing at attention. Admiral Anwen Davies was at a lectern in the center of the stage, facing out toward the audience. Cross raised a hand to shield his eyes and saw that the venue was filled with officers from each of the ships in the sector.
The senior admiral spoke, “We are gathered here today for several reasons. First, to discuss the important changes in strategy and tactics we will undertake in light of the existential threat we face from the Xroeshyn. Second, to discuss the new timetable for combat patrols and rotations, and the reasoning behind them, so that when your crews complain, you’ll have something useful to tell them.”
That got a chuckle from all the members of the audience, and the people on the stage, as well. There was nothing more tenacious than an unanswered question on a starship. It would burrow its way into every conversation, into every thought, into every action, until the answer was revealed.
As the laughter subsided, Davies continued speaking. “Third, we’re here to recognize the actions of some particular individuals in service to the United Atlantic League. Captain James Okoye, please step forward.”
Captain Okoye complied, tapping the floor with his cane in a dignified manner as he advanced to the podium and stood at ease next to it. The admiral turned to face him and intoned, “Captain James Okoye. For valor in battle, you are awarded the combat star twice over in recognition of your leadership in the defense of Starbase 14 and the AAN starbase.” She paused as applause rang out from the gathered officers. “Further, you are hereby promoted to admiral.” She pinned the stars on Okoye’s epaulets, while he maintained an appropriately neutral gaze looking out over the auditorium. Cross could read the pride in the set of his head, and in the further straightening of his already rigid spine.
“Admiral Okoye, please step back.” Okoye executed a smart about-face, and walked to stand next to Kate, leaving Cross nearest to the podium among the three.
“Lieutenant Commander Cross, please step forward.” Cross did it without embarrassing himself, but certainly with less dignity and formality than Okoye had showed. In moments, he stood beside the podium as the admiral began to speak again.
“For your brave actions in the most recent battle with the Xroeshyn, where your timely decision-making and willingness to override the orders of those above you,” again she paused for audience reaction, this time a knowing laughter, “preserved the lives of many of our people, you are awarded the Naval Shield.” This medal, given only to those whose actions directly save others, resembled a kite shield from deep in Earth’s history, engraved with the date of the battle. As she pinned it on his jacket, Davies whispered so that only he could hear her, “Excellent work, sailor.”
Turning again to the microphone, she continued speaking. “Lieutenant Commander Cross, upon the recommendation of Admiral James Okoye and with the support of the admirals assembled here, you are hereby promoted to Commander. In addition, until command officers of a higher rank are available, you retain command of the Washington, DC. Congratulations, Commander.”
Cross broke into a grin, smartly turned about, and walked back to his place in line on the other side of Okoye. He’d gotten what he wanted, command of the Washington. The medal and the boost in rank were bonuses. His
face hurt as he tried to confine his expression into one appropriate for this event. Still, the edges of his mouth quirked beyond his ability to control them.
“Lieutenant Commander Kate Flynn, please step forward.” The admiral turned to watch her glide into place, then faced the audience again. “You are receiving two decorations today, Lieutenant Commander Flynn, for two very different accomplishments. First, for your bravery in accompanying a unit of Marines into an enemy starbase to retrieve vital data, you are awarded the Marine Commendation Ribbon. Gunnery Sergeant Cynthia Murphy will pin it upon you.”
Sinner walked forward in full Marine dress uniform and smiled as she pinned the ribbon on to Kate’s sleeve. She stepped back and offered Kate a salute that was returned with appropriate decorum. The Marine leaned down and whispered in Kate’s ear, slapped her on the shoulder, and then walked away laughing to herself. Cross would’ve given cash money to know what she’d said to put that embarrassed look on Kate’s face.
“Lieutenant Commander Flynn, for your scientific work in analyzing the aliens, in isolating several new wormholes to add to the network, and assistance in the creation of the technology to make that possible, you are awarded the Naval Commendation Medal with a science cluster.” The admiral pinned this one on Kate’s uniform jacket and then returned to the podium.
“Finally, Lieutenant Commander Kate Flynn, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Commander. Congratulations.”
The assembled officers broke into applause for Kate, and for the three of them once she’d rejoined them. Despite the positivity of the moment, Cross was unhappy that Kate was again the same rank as he was. Traditionally, the command hierarchy on a ship the size of the Washington had a threefold reduction in rank: Captain, Executive Officer of Commander rank, and second shift Captain of Lieutenant Commander rank. He had hoped Kate would be able to remain with him aboard the Washington.