Sword of Blue (Tales of a Dying Star Book 3)

by David Kristoph

  The other two tables were larger, with room for eight or ten, already filled with officers and Vizers. Acteon stepped onto the platform and found his seat next to the Vice Admiral, facing the crowd. The seat next to him, Joline's, was empty. Some small part of him had hoped she would already be there, waiting. She's not coming. Accept it and prepare for your speech.

  Drysane raised an eyebrow at him. "You've been taking a lot of time to prepare lately, Admiral. One might assume you were nervous about giving a speech."

  "One would assume correctly," Acteon said.

  Nasir, seated to her right, laughed as if it were the funniest joke he'd ever heard. Drysane silenced him with a look.

  The table bore crystal glasses and an antique looking bottle of sweetwater. Acteon removed the soft cover from the bottle's mouth and filled his glass. He looked a question at Drysane but she shook her head. The second most powerful man in the Empire needs to bolster his courage, he thought. Drysane read his mind and smirked.

  One of the Shieldwardens left his place at the Emperor's chair, moving across the platform in long strides. He had three silver shields on his shoulder, where the other Shieldwardens had only two. The Primeshield. He bent low to speak into Acteon's ear. "Admiral, we have been made aware of a potential security threat. His Luminance wishes to continue with the ceremony, but I wanted to hear your input first."

  Acteon frowned. "What information do you have?"

  "Little. Our spies report movement among the Children in Luccar, more than normal, but we have no concrete details as of yet."

  At the mention of spies Acteon thought of Sandrakari. Was she among the Children on Melis, quietly reporting their movements and actions? No, His Luminance had said she was on Praetar. Like Pavani, she would not be pleased with being removed from her mission. They'll all understand, soon enough.

  Acteon forced himself to focus. "There are always threats on Melis, Primeshield. What about Latea? The shipyards, or the trade port?"

  "We have no specifics, Admiral."

  "My guards searched every passenger before allowing them to board this ship. I understand the Shieldwardens did the same?"

  The tall guard nodded. "We have conducted random searches as well."

  Acteon would have liked nothing more than to cancel the ceremony, but that would only delay the inevitable and extend the Emperor's visit. He was leaving immediately after the ceremony, and the sooner he was gone the sooner Acteon could focus on preparing the Fleet. He considered it a moment longer before shaking his head. "Right now I can think of no safer place in the Empire than the Olitau. I trust my guards, and I trust yours as well."

  The Shieldwarden nodded, gave a quick salute, and returned to his post by the Emperor's seat.

  Drysane considered Acteon for a moment. "You're distracted," she whispered. "Don't try to deny it."

  "The speech."

  She arched an eyebrow at him. "It's more than that. What aren't you telling me?"

  "Nothing. You're over-analyzing things." Acteon hated keeping secrets from Drysane. She would be with him on the Exodus, and he would tell her as soon as they departed, but not before.

  Thankfully she did not press him further.

  A man was arguing on the other side of the door to the kitchens, loud enough for them to hear. Acteon began growing worried--maybe there was something to the security threat--when the door finally opened. The man that strode onto the platform was red-faced and angry.

  Jayce, the current Commander of the Gold Wing, looked more like a warrior than a pilot; wide shoulders and thick arms were outlined underneath his uniform, with a fire in his eyes that searched for a fight. In truth he was one of the calmest men Acteon knew, except when confronted with something he disagreed with.

  "I was searched by those slender shits three times on my way here," he said, running a hand through the black hair that hung to his shoulders. "You'd think I looked like a threat."

  One of the officers at the table snorted until Jayce rounded on him.

  "I thought you had an excuse to not show up," Drysane said. "Something about looking over the new pilots yourself?"

  "Aye, I did," he admitted, "but even that stretched my patience." He nodded to the empty chair next to Acteon. "Can I sit?"

  Acteon looked out over the dining gallery of people one last time before accepting the reality. She is not coming. He gestured to the seat. "Please."

  Jayce sat, oblivious to the Admiral's reluctance and Drysane's glare. "As I was saying, my patience wears thin. There are two hundred and ten pilots on the Olitau, nearly all of them veterans. I've spent the last day making sure they know their formations. Most of them do, but there's one girl of the Gold, a rookie barely out of the Academy, who can barely hold her line in a Z-spread. She nearly crashed into another fighter."

  "How'd a rookie get accepted into the Gold?" Acteon asked.

  Jayce pointed a meaty finger at Acteon. "I asked myself exactly that question, Admiral. Turns out she was personally selected at the last moment. That made me suspicious, so I checked: she was chosen by you."

  Acteon gave a start. Alard's replacement? "There must be a mistake. The man I chose was a veteran, a father of two."

  "That's who you chose alright. And this rookie is his co-pilot." Jayce took a deep breath, measuring his words. "I've a tough enough job without my ranks being filled with imbeciles. I don't know why you stuck her in the Wing, but half the Gold is upset she's there. Not to mention the highest pilots in the Silver who should have filled the spot."

  Acteon was caught off-guard, without an excuse to defend himself. I've allowed my son's death to make me careless. This was a minor mistake, easily fixable, but what else had he missed? What other oversights had he made?

  Drysane stood, filled a glass from the bottle of sweetwater, and set it down in front of the Commander. "Drink."

  Jayce glared at her and accepted the glass, upending it in one smooth motion.

  "Now," Drysane said with measured patience, "I'm sure the Admiral wouldn't mind if this rookie was replaced."

  Acteon nodded when she looked sideways at him.

  "Look at that: no more problem."

  "I still don't appreciate it," Jayce muttered.

  "You don't have to appreciate it. You have to obey." Drysane sat back down.

  "There's... another matter I need to discuss with you, Admiral," Jayce said. He hesitated. "I've led the Gold for a long time now, more than any man ought to, and..."

  A fanfare of music at the dining gallery entrance cut him off. All conversation in the room ceased, the settlers and their families staring intently. A pair of petite female Flameguards marched into the room, fluted horns held to their mouths in song. The Emperor immediately followed, flanked by Shieldwardens. He still wore the draped hat that covered his face on four sides. His gown was an elaborate array of overlapping fibers, brilliant shades of red and orange that draped all the way to the floor to conceal the tiny steps his feet made.

  The facade was obvious, now that Acteon knew. The slow, regal pace appeared frail and labored. The purpose of the hat was deception, not modesty. It shocked him how oblivious they all were, how easily convinced they were by suggestion. It fooled you, too, he reminded himself.

  Muffled gasps and cries of excitement rose from the crowd of steadfasts at their God's appearance. All the way to the platform the Shieldwardens scanned the crowd suspiciously. Acteon, along with each officer on the platform, bowed his head and saluted as the Emperor passed by.

  But instead of seating himself, the Emperor strode directly to the podium, facing the crowd. The Flameguards knelt on either side, and the Shieldwardens stood above them. Acteon frowned. He'd not known a speech would be given before his own.

  The thought vanished as the Emperor reached up and removed his front drape, revealing his face to the crowd.

  What is he doing? he wondered with alarm. Had he changed his mind about keeping his ailment a secret to the members of the Exodus Fleet? Was he going to tell
them all of his plans then? Acteon had the overwhelming urge to dash to the podium and cover the Emperor's face, as if his withered visage were a trusted secret he needed to maintain.

  But the crowd did not react as if they saw a dying man. They smiled widely, proudly, overjoyed with the opportunity to be so close to the man who was their God. Children farther from the platform stood up in their seats to try to get a better view.

  Acteon did not understand. And he was further confused when the Emperor began to speak.

  "Good evening, steadfasts of the Exodus Fleet."

  The voice was not his. It was deep and strong, the same booming tone as thunder from a Melisao summerstorm.

  "Admiral Acteon," he continued, gesturing behind him, "was kind enough to invite me to the celebration. I understand my presence comes with certain discomforts, and for that I am deeply sorry. My overcautious guards and I will depart soon, I promise you."

  The Shieldwardens on either side of him continued scanning the crowd.

  The Emperor paused for effect. "I first met the Admiral in orbit around the planet Praetar, many years ago. Our fleet had destroyed the orbital defenses without issue, but capturing the planet's surface would be a costly endeavor. The Praetari were a savage people, frenzied in their defense. The original Commander of the Gold was killed in the first forray to the surface, along with half his force. The Praetari were persistent in clinging to their dirt and sand.

  "Acteon was a young pilot then, but it was to him that the command fell, such were the extent of our losses. To this young man I gave a simple order: destroy all Praetari forces and capture the planet, regardless of the cost. He accepted without hesitation. And though the task set before him seemed impossible, all Praetari were subdued."

  The Emperor looked across the crowd of steadfasts, who hung on every word.

  "Acteon is more than a man, more than your Admiral. He is an extension of myself, the Sword of the Empire. In the journey ahead you must trust him completely. In all actions he executes my holy will. Behind his leadership the Empire will begin anew on Thyr. Beneath his leadership the Empire will thrive. Today we feast not in celebration of the Exodus Fleet, but to give thanks that we are led by such a man."

  He spread his hands in the air and the crowd cheered. They all rose and applauded, screaming their approval.

  The Emperor turned away from the podium, allowing Acteon a view of his face. Instead of the shriveled face he'd seen the day before, the image of a young man stared back at him. The man who raised Acteon to Admiral so long ago, there on the sands of Praetar. And briefly, for the barest second, Acteon saw the young face flicker around the edges, like parts of a computer screen that were out of sync with the rest of the picture. A false image, Acteon realized, watching the holy man slowly walk away. That was the purpose of the veiled hat he wore; not just to cover his face, but to present a younger, healthier one when need be.

  The Emperor passed the chair with the kerchief. He descended from the platform, escorted by his Shieldwardens and Flameguards as he disappeared through the door. They would make the immediate journey to the Chain with less ceremony than their arrival had demanded, to Acteon's relief. One Shieldwarden remained standing beside the door, arms stiff at her side. You will understand soon, Pavani.

  The applause subsided, the crowd of steadfasts still watching the platform expectantly. It was time. Acteon stood, straightened his uniform, and strode to the podium. His heart pounded in his ears, the only sound in the now silent room.

  Stars, why is this so hard every time?

  He coughed, urging moisture into his mouth. The lights seemed too bright, forcing him to squint. There were hundreds of people in the room, rows upon rows of filled tables with an aisle down the middle. Everyone was staring at him, waiting. Soon you will be their Emperor, the voice whispered in his head. If you cannot address them as their Admiral, how can you do so as their God?

  He looked over the crowd. Just when the anxiety was nearly too much, dangerously close to paralyzing him, he saw her.

  She was sitting two tables from the stage with three other women, the wives of the Vizers. Joline wore a long gown of sea-green, with her yellow hair pulled tight in a swirled knot. Around her neck was a silver pendant, round and glimmering from the light of the crystals above.

  And for the first time since learning of their son's death she looked at Acteon and smiled.

  You can do this, he heard her reassuring voice. You are stronger, braver than you know. And in that moment all his worries--the Emperor's impending death, the departure of the Fleet, Acteon's new role on Thyr--drained away like water poured from glass. He smiled back at his wife, knowing that everything was going to be okay.

  He gripped the podium and cleared his throat to begin his speech, smiling.

  Before he could speak a woman fell from her chair into the aisle. Her pilot uniform was decorated with medals. She groaned and stumbled as she tried to stand, falling again to her knees. She remained in that position, hands on the ground in front of her, head hanging limply. Joline left her seat and went to the woman's side, putting a hand on her shoulder to make sure she was okay.

  Everything happened very quickly.

  Someone at the back of the room cried out, and there was motion on the stage behind Acteon. A guard darted past him, jumping down from the platform, moving toward the pilot on the floor. The groaning woman began to glow faintly, bluish-green, the way the horizon appears just before Saria dawns. Soon she was so bright that Acteon's eyes burned, but he was unable to look away. Joline took a step back, shielding her eyes. The pilot screamed as the guard reached her, an inaudible cry of defiance, and then the light exploded.

  Chapter 12

  There was no sound, but the room spun, and something smashed into Acteon's back. All he saw was the light, green and brilliant, whether his eyes were opened or closed. His ears felt filled with cloth, or like he was submerged under water. Slowly the light faded. Acteon realized he was on his back, staring at the ceiling.

  The pressure disappeared from his ears, replaced by screams.

  He jumped to his feet. The crowd of steadfasts, men and women and children, were rushing to the doors around the perimeter of the room. The sound of screaming was interspersed with children crying. He looked behind him: he caught a glimpse of some of the Vizers fleeing, escorted by guards. Drysane remained, head bent low behind the table, waving at Acteon. Jayce crouched next to her, pushing away the guards that tried to lead them to safety.

  Acteon whirled back to the center of the room. Nothing remained of the woman in the aisle. All tables and chairs within twenty feet were knocked away. Black and green residue, like pollen, spread in all directions from the center of the blast. The ground there was charred black. The woman and the guard were gone.

  And Joline.

  He added his own voice to the screams, and tried to rush forward, but hands grabbed him. His guards, one on either side, holding him back. He fought rabidly as they tried to calm him, their words lost in the cacophony of noise. Joline, my life, my love. Where have you gone? Where are you hiding?

  He stopped fighting his guards when Pavani appeared, stepping between them and the crowd. She extended her arms out to either side. Blue light, crackling with electricity, shimmered along the plated gauntlets. The light drifted to the floor like a curtain, and extended up to the ceiling, creating a protective wall.

  Acteon saw the threat then, a grey-haired servant running toward the platform. Green light glowed around him like an aura. He screamed something unintelligible--Acteon thought he heard the word 'Saria'--before exploding.

  Acteon turned away to brace for the blast, but none came. Pavani was moved backwards three inches, her boots scraping on the floor, all force from the blast diverted and absorbed by the shield.

  The servant was gone, destroyed by his explosion.

  Pavani's protective layer retracted into her gauntlets. She turned to face them. "We need to go."

  Numb with shock, Acteon
allowed himself to be escorted from the room with Drysane and Jayce, back through the hallways by the kitchens. Ahead of him he saw more guards, leading the huddled shapes of Nasir and another Vizer. The guards paused briefly at each cross-hall to ensure it was safe before leading them forward. The sound of gunfire echoed ahead.

  "Where are we going?" Drysane asked.

  One of the guards answered without turning around. "We've lost the bridge. External communication is down, but there's fighting among the Riverhawks above the shipyard. We're pushing to the aircraft hangar. We need to get somewhere safe."

  A deeper part of Acteon knew losing the bridge was catastrophic, that all of this was bigger than he imagined, but just then his mind worked slowly. Joline, no, I cannot leave without you. "I have to go back."

  Pavani whirled. "What?"

  The other guard said, "Sir, we have to get to an escape craft..."

  "Joline," Acteon insisted. "I need to go back for her."

  Pavani grabbed his shoulders. Behind the helmet her eyes were wide with fear and pain. "Father, she..."

  He understood the reality. Deep down he truly knew. But he had to return, he had to see it for himself. Every fiber of his soul insisted. "Pavani, run and catch up to the Emperor. Your place is beside him, not me."

  "I have been commanded..."

  "This is my command," he said. They could regroup later if they survived this, but in the mean time he would not have her resenting him. "Follow our God. Defend him, protect him, as you have been trained to do."

  The pain in her eyes deepened as she deliberated.

  Acteon set his jaw and turned to the others. "Drysane, go with Jayce to the hangar. I'll meet you there. Even if we've lost the Olitau we can coordinate the rest of the defense from the air." She nodded. To his guards he said, "I'm going back to the dining gallery no matter what you say. You can either follow me, or abandon your duty when it's needed most. Decide."

  He gave his daughter a final look before running back down the hall. The guards' footsteps followed him, and when he looked over his shoulder he saw that Pavani and the others were gone.