First Salik War 2: The V'Dan

by Jean Johnson

  “I have to help!” the Imperial Consort shouted back. “Go! Get her out of here!”

  (To me!) Jackie ordered, and dropped to her knees. Dropped everyone to their knees around her. With Li’eth at her side, shifting his telekinetic dome over their group of no more than a dozen and a half psis at most, Human and Solarican and Tlassian alike, and with Clees straining his mind upward, linking to Jackie an exact aerial view of the Winter City, Jackie threw her mind up and out, and shifted that image westward.

  Her task was nearly impossible. Winter City was home to millions, sporting thousands of skyscraping buildings over two dozen kilometers to the north and south, and half a dozen east and west. Nearly impossible, indeed . . . until the woman who called herself To-mi Kuna’mi knelt at Li’eth and Jackie’s backs, and placed her hands on both of them. Abruptly, dizzyingly abruptly, Jackie had enough power to cover twice as much terrain . . . and shoved the image of all of it westward by ten kilometers, stretching out the “wilderness” east of the capital with a patchwork illusion extending what was already there.

  Li’eth reached up and out, too, but he shoved against actual matter, not reflected light. Most of the missiles swerved westward in a subtle diagonal as they came down. It meant, however, releasing his dome over the palace itself, because he still was not trained well enough to both protect and make scores of incoming warheads shift direction.

  As it was, his efforts were almost too little, too late. Through one of the viewpoints Clees was feeding them, they could see a scorching line of laserfire stabbing down through the clouds. It sliced straight through the now-hard-humming shields outside, and the humming shut off a scant second before three explosions, two of them very close, rattled the heavy flagstones of the Winter Palace, while the third hit farther away. More explosions echoed faintly in the distance, a lot more, but they, too, receded and faded as the Salik weapons, forced to rely upon visual targets, shifted westward from their original impact sites, lured by that holokinetic city sprawling in solid-seeming comfort out over the actual bay.

  How long they held the shield, Jackie could not have said. She and the others relied upon Heracles’ real-time inner vision; with each impact, she blackened the city with smoke and fire and damaged structures, imperfectly envisioned, hurriedly sculpted and placed. It would not stand up to any close scrutiny, but it was far better than letting the “buildings” survive each impact visually unscathed.

  They did hold it, until the Salik Fleet became fully engaged and could no longer spare the munitions to attack the surface of the planet. Terran ships, the size of wasps trying to sting horse-sized enemy warships, joined the fight as best they could, darting in and out, shooting lasers, slinging missiles, and making nuisances of themselves far out of proportion to their size and the power of their armaments. Particularly when Clees’ now upward-turned vision spotted the huge white blasts of spare hyperrelay probes being sacrificed as hydrobombs, by being slung out of their cargo bays toward the enemy vessels.

  That shook the enemy. Shook them hard and ripped giant holes in their ships. As Clees sent back to the others what he saw while he floated out of body in orbit over the capital, they could tell exactly when a relay probe was about to hit, by the abrupt shying-away of every V’Dan vessel near that target. The hydrobomb capabilities on those probes were strong enough even at a distance to blow holes that chewed off 12, even 20 percent of each of those five-lobed warships, and over half on a direct hit.

  No, the Salik could no longer spare any attention for the surface of the V’Dan homeworld. Satisfied, Clees sank back into his body. Exhausted, Jackie stopped projecting the altered coastline. The moment she ended the mass Gestalt, almost everyone slumped flat on the floor around her. Li’eth leaned into her, his weight and hers counterbalancing each other. To-mi—the Immortal—gently removed her hands, and sent a private thought to the two of them.

  (Thank you for saving this palace. I was told you would. Just as I was told in my history lessons that things should turn out alright in the end, though not always in the clearest details of how,) she added. (But I need to get out of here before anyone thinks to question why an “ungifted” doctor was so eager to help a bunch of holy ones save the city.)

  Li’eth didn’t bother to open his eyes. (Because you are a doctor, a medical doctor. So do what a doctor does, and start checking over our vital signs. Even our own holy teachings have warned publicly about the overuse of gifts causing the holy users to collapse.)

  (Don’t sass your elder, young man. Even if it is a brilliant idea.) Shifting her weight, she checked their pulses, then started moving around to the others, checking a wrist here, a throat there, and some spot on an inner leg joint for the one K’Katta who had joined them.

  A few of the Elites came looking for them, but at Dr. Kuna’mi’s insistent request, they ran off to fetch blankets and hot sweet drinks for the drained psis, to shelter them against any possible onset of shock while they recovered. One of the Guard murmured in regret-filled tones that one of the two nearest missile impacts had dropped a chunk of wall on top of the Empress; she had been rescued and rushed to the palace infirmary, but it didn’t look good.

  Te-los immediately lurched to his feet, demanding Elite assistance in getting to his mate. Li’eth chose to remain, as did Balei’in, just in case the enemy managed to start attacking the surface again. Jackie could tell that her Gestalt partner remained partly for her sake, and partly because both of them were so drained, he couldn’t have summoned a scrap of biokinesis to save anything but his own life or hers, and only that much out of sheer survival instinct. Instead, she just hugged him close, giving her partner physical comfort as well as mental support, to cushion his deep fears about his mother’s health.

  The Elite weren’t done with their report, however, and their other news was equally grim. The third explosion had struck the North Embassy Wing. The Elite giving them the information said sympathetically that the Guard were doing their best to organize search-and-rescue efforts, but that it probably would be best for Jackie and her Terran companions to wait right where they were while rescue crews searched for and dug out any of her people who had been trapped, injured, or rendered worse by the rubble.

  One of the other blasts had short-circuited the power grid just long enough to make the emergency shelters go into lockdown mode; the people down below were still quite safe—they had communications ability—but they were effectively trapped until the codes were reset, which would still take another hour.

  Distressed, torn in his loyalties, Li’eth spoke quietly with Balei’in; his younger brother insisted on Li’eth’s remaining with Jackie, while he went to go check on their parents after another half hour passed. A few Guards remained once the drinks and blankets came, but otherwise they were left alone while the fate of the invasion took place overhead.

  Gradually, other people came back, Winter Palace staff who started cleaning up the scrambled mess of shoved benches and bits of fallen rubble from battle damage. Some of the impact from those first two explosions had damaged a bit of the Inner Court. Chunks of ceiling had fallen, and one of the two Terran communications bots had toppled. Clees joined them to help reprogram and right the fallen one so that they could continue with their work.

  The Terran comm screens flicked to life after half an hour or so. The face that appeared was the same male as before, Captain Andu Li, she realized. The communications officer from the Embassy 8. She knew him, as she knew everyone in her embassy. Twisting where she sat on the dais step, Jackie brushed off her black pantsuit and faced the upright tower. “Captain Li, report.”

  He tipped his head to the side, his golden tanned face looking pale and exhausted. “Commodore Graves says that the last of the Salik are fleeing the system, Ambassador. He’d tell you himself, but some rubble fell on the Embassy 1’s nose as it sat in the bay, and they’re still going over the damage millimeter by millimeter, repairing it. And . . . we lost
the 10, 13, 21, and 28. There are half a dozen other ships in need of minor to major repairs, and the 25 and the 17 are badly damaged, but they are able to limp in under their own power. The 17 actually only lost its nose cone and a bit of hull integrity because of it. They’re leaking air very slowly, but her crew got suited in plenty of time. Without the nose cone, the ship’s unable to leave the system, but the commander says everything else can be used for spare parts for the other ships, so repair turnaround time will be pretty swift if she’s the one dismantled.

  “I, uh, can’t get a signal from the surface, other than these towers and the 1 still in the North Hangar. How are things down there, sir?”

  Jackie shook her head. “Bad. We don’t know how badly the North Embassy Wing was hit. Just that it was hit after the Salik took out the palace shields. Just one missile’s worth, but we’ve been asked to stay here, to keep us out of the way of the rescue efforts.”

  Off to the side, a group of red-and-gold-clad V’Dan reentered the Inner Court from the door behind her. Captain Li lifted his brows. “Why aren’t you using your telekinesis to help with the rescue efforts, sir?”

  “Yes, Grand High Ambassador,” she heard Vi’alla state coldly. “Why aren’t you using your vast holy powers to rescue your own people?”

  Twisting so that she faced the other woman a bit more, Jackie replied just as coldly, “Because I have exhausted myself—I have exhausted everyone you see sitting here—to the point of being unable to even stand up, from rescuing your entire capital city. The only reason why this palace and its city were not bombed into blackened shakk is because—at great personal expense—I projected a holokinetic lie that the city was ten kilometers west of here. Out over the open sea.

  “Your own eldest brother directed your youngest brother and father in deflecting most of those missiles westward to match my massive cloaking illusion,” she continued, letting her anger give her some energy and heat to her reply. “He would have been advanced enough in his skills by now to have deflected all of them if we hadn’t had to tread oh so softly around your squeamishness about our Gestalt bond. If your people hadn’t been so prejudiced about the way my people look, we could have advanced our bond to the point where we could have returned those missiles to their owners.

  “. . . But no,” Jackie finished, her anger draining out of her along with most of her energy. “The way we look has been too important to you and your people to see the damage your attitudes have been causing.”

  (Jackie,) Li’eth tried to soothe her. His sister cut that idea dead.

  “You will not talk to me that way,” Vi’alla growled. She lifted the object in her hands, faced the temple-room behind the throne, and called out, “By the laws of V’Dan, I, Imperial Princess Vi’alla Sha-nu’en Tal’u-nakh Tuen-la V’Daania, duly acknowledged Heir to the Empire, take up the War Crown as Regent while Empress Hana’ka Iu’tua Has-natell Q’una-hash Mi’idenei V’Daania strives to recover from her injuries. Until the day she takes this from my head or her death bestows it permanently in place, I am Regent Princess Vi’alla V’Daania, rightful ruler in my mother’s place!”

  Her voice echoed through the not-quite-empty hall. The staff members who had been discreetly straightening and tidying had stilled during her strong-voiced speech. Now they all dropped to one knee, as did the Elite Guards, and thumped their fists over their hearts. In ragged unison, they shouted, “All hail Regent Princess Vi’alla V’Daania!”

  Li’eth moved with them, twisting from sitting on one of the steps to half kneeling on it. Grimly, he lifted his fist to his heart as well, though he couldn’t bring himself to speak in unison with the others. Jackie could feel how unhappy he was about this moment.

  Jackie’s response was a bit different. She waited to see if there was more to the ceremony, then snapped, “Captain Li! Connect us to Premiere Callan and get us a full broadcast to every V’Dan signal you can. I suspect the next few moments will either make or break the whole Alliance, and I want everyone to know why.”

  “Aye, sir,” Captain Li confirmed. The transparent screens flashed blue and silver, displaying the logo of the United Planets.

  Vi’alla, the War Crown now perched on her head—either the one that had been on her mother’s head, or perhaps a duplicate—faced Jackie with a faint sneer. “What, exactly, do you think you are going to do about my regency? You have no say over what happens in the Empire.”

  The screens shifted from blue to an image of the Premiere’s face. Behind him lay the Dome, the Premiere’s office; the late-evening Council session had no doubt been canceled because of the local need to focus on surviving the Salik onslaught taking so long. They would still have to deal with the subject of Shi’ol’s punishment and the Terran United Planets’ demand to the V’Dan Empire on how to handle the prejudices behind her actions, but for now, the Premiere and the recording equipment on his end of the link were enough of a witness for what might come next. “. . . Ambassador MacKenzie? Is everything alright?”

  Drawing upon the dregs of her reserves, Jackie pushed herself up onto her feet. (I’m sorry, Li’eth.) It was all she could afford to say to him. Shielding her mind tightly, bracing her legs so that she stood without wavering, she faced down the blond regent even as she bent metaphorically under the protocols of the situation. “Premiere Augustus Callan, I present to you Regent Princess Vi’alla V’Daania, who has taken up the War Crown in her mother’s absence. The Salik invasion fleet has been sent running. Unfortunately, the Empress of V’Dan has been severely injured in the Salik attack, along with an unknown number of Terran and other personnel. We may not know for hours just who has been injured or killed . . . but we still have a very serious question in need of an answer.”

  Turning, she faced the Regent Princess.

  “Think carefully, Vi’alla, about the needs of your people. Think carefully, Regent, about the usefulness of Terran strengths and Terran technologies in today’s fight . . . and in all the fights that are yet to come. We grieve with you for the suffering of your mother and your people, for the injured and the dead . . . but we must still stand here and assert our right to be treated with respect and equality in the eyes of you and your people. We demand respect from your people. And we demand that those who continue to insult us, in the face of our right to be respected as peers, as equals, as allies—throughout all Tiers, even unto the Imperial Family—those who persist in insulting us must undergo a mind-block by a Terran psychic to remove the source of your pervasive cultural disrespect toward us: your overemphasis on your awareness of your precious, petty jungen marks.

  “We will be kind in the light of today’s tragedy, and will be willing to defer the final, permanent decision in this matter until your mother’s health and recovery are known . . . but we demand that you treat us and our rights as sovereign adults with the respect we are due in the interim.”

  Vi’alla planted her fists on her golden-covered hips and leaned in close enough that Jackie could feel the heat of her breath. “I will never allow your people to touch my mind . . . and I will never allow you to touch the minds of my people!”

  Silence followed those low-growled words. Two seconds, four seconds . . .

  Premiere Callan spoke. “Ambassador MacKenzie. I am Augustus Callan, Premiere of the Terran United Planets, Commander-in-Chief of the Terran United Planets Space Force . . . and I accept my responsibility in the consequences of the following command: Initiate Executive Order Victor Delta Delta Zero, authorization Charlie-India-Charlie Alpha Charlie. Every spare ship we have will be under way within the hour. Good luck, and Godspeed.”

  “Understood. Regent Princess Vi’alla,” Jackie stated, her voice darkening with a mix of her anger, disappointment, and regret. On the Terran screens, the Premiere’s face vanished, replaced by the exhausted and now-anxious, somber expression of Captain Li. “We thank you for your nation’s hospitality. We will begin our evacuation efforts immediately.
It will take some time, as there are still bodies, some injured, some probably slain, to be dug out of the rubble and accounted for. We also have ships that need to be repaired, and ships that need to reach V’Dan to aid in the evacuation. I trust you will be compassionate enough to allow us to do so in an orderly fashion.

  “Be warned, however, that our patience and kindness, our understanding has ended. Any attempt to seize Terran property or personnel will be met as a declaration of war. Do not seek to detain us,” Jackie added, while the Regent frowned in confusion. “I will remind you this once—since you seem so easily prone to forget such things—that we can coordinate both our attacks and our defenses . . . and you have not seen every weapon in our arsenal.

  “You may keep the plans for hydrogenerators and so forth, as we shall keep the plans for artificial gravity . . . but we will not give you the secrets of making the catalyst for those generators. And yes, we also deny you all access to our hyperrelays. Captain Li? You heard the Premiere’s orders and authorization?”

  “Ambassador, yes, sir,” the man on the robot tower screens replied.

  “Please log this date and time, for following through on Executive Order Victor Delta Delta Zero.”

  “Time and date . . . logged, sir. Standing by to execute Victor Delta Delta Zero whenever you are ready, sir,” Captain Li stated.

  “Detonate, authorization Juliett Mike.”

  The images on the trio of screens held aloft by the two display towers immediately sparked with static and faded to clear. Vi’alla’s frown deepened. “What . . . what just happened? What was that . . . executive order?”

  “You now have a modestly small but very hot crater on the nearest side of your nearest moon,” Jackie explained coldly. “Right where the Terran hyperrelay probe used to be. It, of course, has been obliterated as a warning of what will happen if you attempt to access any others. All of the other hyperrelays have been shut down and locked into countersabotage mode. They will no longer transmit anything until we send a very specific code to unlock their capabilities. Any attempt to move or open them will cause those probes to explode. Probes, I politely remind you, that were quite capable of vaporizing significant chunks of those rather large Salik warships that were attacking this world just a very short time ago.”