The Starlight Fortress

by Fiona Rawsontile

  “What made you think that I would want to work for you?”

  “Well, I’m also helping you! You’ll need to please my father, remember? To me, this is a wonderful chance for you to prove your talents.”

  She made no response.

  “And if you get the job done, I’ll let you call home. How about that?”

  “That’s quite generous!”

  “You know I’m not a generous person.” He sat back in his chair, appearing tired. “But your people keep bugging me. Yesterday I got a phone call from my uncle. His best friend’s brother-in-law used to be Swinburne’s father’s roommate at college.” He tilted his head and paused for a second. “Did I get it right? … Anyway! I’m going to talk to them soon, just so they could shut up.”

  “All right,” she said. Why not? Both parties in the battle would be her enemies. That alone made it a whole lot easier than commanding her own troops, and along the way she might find opportunities to escape. “To prepare for the task, I’ll need to know the geography and weather of that area. I’ll also need to know how your fleets function.” Her gaze fell onto a pile of folders on his desk.

  He replied her with an ill-formed smile. “You don’t need to read those files.” As his chair slid backwards, he picked up a thin brochure from a shelf and threw it at her. “That should be enough for this mission.”

  A phone on his desk rang. The caller must be someone close to him as judged by his softened gaze. “Now you changed your mind? I knew you would … Sure, we haven’t been there for a while, and I miss their soups. I have to be back by one thirty, though … Good, see you soon.” He hung up the phone and looked back at her. “You’ll be transported to the base on Thursday morning. Meanwhile, I’ll try to find you an uniform.”

  So she’d be wearing the enemy’s uniform? Fine. She just hoped she wouldn’t be spotted by journalists. “Do I have stars?”

  He looked amused. “I’ll give you one, so that you could command my officers. I know you used to have six, but with that many you’d be able to surrender my whole army to your country.”

  She grabbed the brochure and left for the door. Without looking back, she could tell that he also left his desk and headed to the restroom. She stopped in the hallway for a moment and waited. When she couldn’t hear his footsteps, she sneaked back to his office and entered an inner room.

  This room was where Pompey took breaks, supposedly. There was a daybed in front of a window, a small winery bar with a counter and two stools, some plants and fish tanks here and there, and a set of wardrobes along a wall as she had hoped. She opened one of the wardrobes and hid herself inside.

  A few minutes later, she heard his footsteps again. He stopped right in front of the wardrobes, but fortunately he opened a different door. After some rustling of clothes, the office door was shut, leaving her in silence.

  * * *

  She waited for another minute before she stepped out. One thirty? She looked at the clock on the wall. That should leave her a good hour and a half. She smiled, sat down at his desk and pulled the stack of folders close. The first file was a list of fleet redeployments and officer promotions. She didn’t have time to go through the list, but before she closed the folder she spotted Rafael’s name. So he would become a vice admiral and the commander-in-second of the Third Imperial Fleet. Did Pompey get protests from his officers? Geneva almost felt jealous. There were advantages being an autocrat.

  Her eyes widened as she opened the second folder and saw a drawing of the “Elephant.” Its official name was Triumphant. The document focused on certain improvements of the model and didn’t elaborate on its basic functions, but after reading it several times, she had the impression that Sterling’s hypothesis was correct. So every time the trunk would fire two missiles together. The virtual-image technique would be applied to one of them, hiding its original image while aligning its mirror image with the other missile. According to the report, the alignment wasn’t perfect. There could be the fuzziness or even “double vision” under scrutiny. But of course when the missiles were launched at a fast speed, nobody would notice that.

  She closed the folder and looked up. How could she let her officers know this? If she fulfilled the mission and got to speak to them, would there be a way for her to get across the information implicitly?

  She’d think about it later. She moved on to the next folder. It was a proposal for a new type of warship that looked like a needle. The ship was so narrow that longitudinally only one person could fit in. This special design made it difficult to be spotted from any angle, and the external material prevented it from being exposed except under high-energy lights with time-varying spectra …

  A woman’s silvery laughs sounded in the hallway, followed by Pompey’s voice and the fumbling of his key in the door lock. Geneva glanced at the clock. It hadn’t been an hour yet! She set the folders back and ran into the inner room. If Pompey were alone, he would have caught a glimpse of her entering the wardrobes, but he must be too engaged with his girlfriend.

  “I need something to drink,” said the woman, her voice getting louder.

  “More drinks? We don’t have much time left.” He followed her into the inner room. Then there was tinkling of glass and bottles.

  “Hmm …” The woman sniffed and walked closer to the wardrobes. “Smells like … You’re not hiding a woman here, are you?”

  Geneva tensed up. She was sweating inside the stuffy wardrobes, and her discomfort further irritated the two little guys inside her belly. They had been constantly turning and kicking and punching. She regretted that she didn’t go to the restroom before Pompey came back. How much longer could her already squeezed bladder stand through the little guys’ tantrum?

  “Now that you reminded me …” Pompey also sounded closer. “Why don’t you move here? You can have your own office next door.”

  “A law firm inside the palace?” The woman chuckled. “How many clients you think I could get?”

  “Some of my officers are undergoing divorces. I’ll refer them to you.”

  The phone in the other room rang with a special ring tone, and Pompey hurried to answer it. Geneva couldn’t make out what he was saying, but his tone was unusually sincere and flattering.

  “Your Isabella girl?” the woman asked sourly after he came back.

  “Yes, but it’s more appropriate to call her Mrs. Krownold.” He must be hugging her as he answered. Maybe only a few inches away from where Geneva was hiding.

  An Isabella who married a Mr. Krownold? Geneva was sure she had heard about the couple in the past. Not a long time ago.

  “Marriage is just a contract,” the woman’s voice softened a little. “No contract is unbreakable.”

  “Thanks for the tip, honey. You know I’m not interested in business women.”

  The word “business” clicked in Geneva’s head. They must be talking about Edwards’s sister! She married last year. Those Artornian royal siblings must be working hard to beat one another, but if Isabella collaborated with Pompey, that would be a really bad news for her people. And if he further helped her seize the throne …

  She found it hard to think logically. The wardrobes were becoming hotter, and she had to clench her fists to hold back her urine. Then something pressed against the door beside her. After a moment’s silence, the woman panted, “Oh, I can’t breathe!”

  I can’t breathe either! Geneva wanted to cry. Another moment later, she heard Pompey saying, “I’m sorry, honey. I have to pee first.”

  The word pee finally set her off. She shoved open the door, pushed through Pompey and his girlfriend, and bolted to the restroom.

  “No, I have to pee first!”

  Chapter 18

  Geneva had met lots of people in her life due to her social status, but she had no memory of ever encountering such a repulsive look as Captain Scranton’s. He should be forty-something, but his eyes looked like old swamps padded with layers of scheming. His skin was the color of a withered leaf; it s
eparated his facial expressions from anything deeper. With such a guy standing aside, Geneva doubted she could have a moment’s relaxation on her trip. She suspected it was a punishment for her recent misdeed in Pompey’s office.

  Now that the Hover had left the ground, followed by the rest of the reinforcement force, Geneva sat back in the captain’s chair and half closed her eyes. She knew she was sitting in Scranton’s chair, but so what? Soon she’d become his boss’s stepmother.

  “How many soldiers do we have in the camp?”

  “Six hundred and twenty, ma’am,” Scranton answered with a stiff courtesy.

  “They are from the Third Central Fleet, I heard. Is that the only fleet that has infantries?”

  There was a moment of hesitation. “I’m not sure, ma’am.”

  Geneva’s lips curved up to one side. “All right, I’ll try to avoid asking about things you don’t know.” She looked through the window and saw two fighter planes flying side by side. “Which operating system is used by the Aquilas, the Dawn-Force or the All-Spring?”

  Getting no answer, she sat straight. “I can’t guarantee to direct them properly unless I know their specialties.”

  He glared at her for a split second and swallowed. “The All-Spring.”

  She picked up her handbag from the floor and fetched out a bag of cookies.

  “Snacks are not allowed in the bridge, ma’am.”

  “I’m a pregnant woman, can’t you see? Feel free to report me.” She ate a few crunchy cookies. “Besides the Triumphants, are there other types of warships equipped with the virtual-image technique?”

  “I think that’s completely unrelated to our task, ma’am!”

  “Where’s my milk …” Her arm fumbled inside the bag and pulled out a bottle. “Agreed, captain. You don’t have to stand here all the time. I can talk to someone else.”

  Scranton clenched his teeth and breathed forcefully. “His Majesty asked me to be at your service at all times, ma’am.”

  “Really?” She yawned as she pushed on the armrests and supported herself up. “I’m going to take a nap in your cabin. Are you coming with me?”

  Scranton blushed. “We’ll arrive at the camp in half an hour.”

  “I’ll be back in half an hour.” She left the crackers on the table, grabbed the bottle, and wobbled out of the bridge.

  * * *

  While Geneva was on her way to Platinum Valley, her governors and officers at home received a message from Pompey, who had agreed to have a teleconference with them in the afternoon. William immediately called Jonathan, the newly elected Head of the RA’s Alliance, to discuss where and how to draw boundaries in the impendent negotiation.

  “It’s my fault,” Oakley said to Sterling while they were waiting in their seats for the meeting to start. “I picked the wrong person. If I had never helped his ambition, he wouldn’t have chosen the wrong path.”

  Sterling glanced at Oakley, whose dark brown skin had lost its radiance during the past few months. Apparently Rafael’s betrayal had a big impact on him. What made Rafael do this? Sterling had thought about that question over and over. Rafael wasn’t a nice guy, but he wasn’t bad either. A little cynical, sometimes. The type of guy who’d do anything for his friends.

  “It wasn’t your fault, sir.” He shouldn’t have gone home for Christmas.

  The large screen at the front flashed on, and hush descended in the room.

  “Too bad we can’t shake hands,” Pompey said, apparently browsing through the Sunpherean representatives. “I see some old friends here, and new faces too. May I call you friends, you, gentlemen, who contributed the most to my recent fruitless proceedings? Honestly, I’d rather give up all my colonies to have you work for me.”

  “We’re not here to hear your prattles, Pompey,” said Admiral Wilson impatiently. “What do you want?”

  “What do I want?” Pompey looked puzzled. “I’m not the one who’s been begging for a meeting. I’m only doing you a favor, since your boss is doing me a favor at the moment.”

  “How is she?” asked William.

  A smaller video appeared at Pompey’s side and showed a flotilla flying somewhere in the sky.

  “Right now she’s the commander-in-chief of my Platinum-Valley Task Force.” There was satisfaction in his pretty long eyes.

  “She …” Lloyd called out with a high pitch. “You know she’s pregnant!”

  “Oh yeah, I know that better than any of you do, including you, Captain Presley.”

  Sterling stared at Pompey’s image and felt his heart sinking. How were they going to deal with a guy who wanted nothing, who cared to follow no rule? “Can we speak to her?”

  “If she finishes her assignment.”

  “Stop being a jerk, Pompey,” said Oakley. “What you’re doing now is downright disgraceful.”

  Pompey leaned forward. “Whom are you to blame, Admiral Oakley? Your men delivered her to my front door. Your prospective successor, wasn’t he?”

  Sterling sensed the shiver of Oakley’s shoulders.

  “To be honest, initially I did plan to send her back if her relationship with my father did not work out.” Pompey lowered his gaze and sighed. “Guess you can’t be too nice to your enemy … A couple of days ago she hid herself in my office and got an eyeful of my top military secrets. Now if I let her go it would be unfair to my soldiers.”

  “She’s only doing her job,” Sterling said. “You are the one who started the whole thing. None of us would have shown the least interest in your business had you left us alone.”

  “I understand how you feel, Captain Presley. My advice is, find yourself another girlfriend. And for you guys, another boss. You’ll never see her again, unless you become my subordinates. I welcome your surrender at any time, individually or collectively. But I don’t like negotiations. Whatever I want I take it directly.”

  He waved a hand dismissively, and the screen went blank.

  * * *

  Geneva’s flotilla arrived at the camp located three miles away from the valley in the early afternoon.

  “Stand by,” Geneva gave out her first command. “And have a good dinner, everyone. I need to stretch my legs.”

  She stepped out of the Hover onto the ground and saw Scranton following behind. “I’m not going to run away, okay?” she said loudly, and he came into a halt.

  She abandoned her plan of regaining freedom as soon as she arrived here. Nobody alone could survive a day in such a fuggy and desert place, not to mention the possibility of flying to another planetary system. She shook her head and tried to focus on the task. After a few minutes’ walk, her back and shoulders were burning under the sun, and the shoe soles failed to insulate her feet from the heated ground. But she knew the temperature would drop quickly once the sun went down. She looked up at the sky and grinned. A bright white cloud the size of a mountain was floating high up there. That was exactly what she needed.

  After she had a vapid dinner with Scranton, she went back to the captain’s bridge and issued her second order, “Aquila Fifteen, begin cloud seeding.”

  Scranton cast her a wondering look but said nothing. A minute later, one of the two fighters that had come here with her soared up to the sky. Since the invention of the cloud-seeding technique three hundred years ago, she reflected, this was probably the fanciest plane that had been used for that purpose. Soon she could see raindrops falling down, followed by sleets and snowflakes as the temperature dropped further. Two hours later, the ground at the camp was covered by layers of ice and snow. And so must be the rocks outside of the valley, she reckoned.

  “Now, First and Second Divisions, full speed to the south entrance.”

  Dozens of light destroyers and assault helicopters flew toward the valley at a close-to-ground altitude. When they passed the rocky area, the rebel’s camouflaged flyers gushed out of the holes; however, they were strikingly clear against the white and glittering background, and thus, for the first time since the beginning of the insu
rgency, failed to pose a major threat to the Thypholian troop.

  The destroyers landed at the south entrance and each released a few tanks. Half an hour later, the two divisions were still unable to reach far inside, but they had made a nice progress compared with the previous attempts.

  “Is it time to detach our infantry, ma’am?” Scranton suggested.

  Geneva looked at her watch and gasped. “It’s almost bedtime! And they’ll need a nice shower … Call them back.”

  Scranton stared at her in disbelief. “Are you serious, ma’am? Our soldiers don’t need to go to bed before ten!”

  Her body had a twitch. “Don’t kick my stomach, honeys.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I was talking to my babies.”

  * * *

  The sky was cloudless on the following morning. The snow and ice melted shortly after sunrise. When Geneva entered the bridge, she saw a gloating smile on Scranton’s face. She smiled back.

  “Aquila Seventeen, drop my beauty bomb!”

  After a loud explosion in the sky above the rocky area, pink dust filled the air and gradually descended to the ground. The barren land was turned into a fairyland. Again, she sent the same two divisions to the south entrance. An hour and a half later, she called them back. “It’s lunchtime.”

  They had lunch before noon, and dinner before sunset. After dinner, she said to Scranton, who apparently had given up arguing with her, “Don’t you think it’s too late to go to bed at ten? I’m still having jet lags. For today, everybody’s in bed at nine.”

  So the six hundred soldiers and officers at the camp, excluding a few that were on watch, followed the new kindergarten schedule on that evening. Then they were all woken up at one in the morning. This time, right after the two divisions departed for the south entrance, Geneva marshaled the infantry.

  “Your goal is to enter through the north entrance,” she said to the major who led the infantry. “Take a detour from the west and make sure the enemy doesn’t spot you. This is the real part of the attack. All we did previously was to mislead them.”