by Gun Brooke
*
“We won’t get another chance like this.”
Madisyn stopped halfway to the shuttle bay. Podmer was on his way back and had requested she meet him when he returned. Already from a distance she heard Struyen from behind a door leading into a storage room. The vehemence in his voice made her stop just inside, automatically using her augmented hearing as she made sure she was out of sight if anyone stepped out.
“How do we do it?”
Madisyn recognized the voice of another male senior crewmember. He was one of Struyen’s buddies; she had seen them work out together many times in the gym.
“We’re going to start shipping those goods over to the other ship soon. A lot can go wrong during such operations.” The ugly snicker in Struyen’s voice made Madisyn want to hit the door sensor and throttle him. She forced herself to remain still, determined to hear the rest.
“Ah. You mean, like an airlock accident?” a third voice said, sounding considerably younger than the other two. Madisyn guessed it belonged to Lemo, a rather new recruit to the Salaceos, a young man who seemed to hero-worship Struyen and his followers. With increasing dread Madisyn realized that Struyen had quite a large entourage, judging by how many flocked around him in the mess hall and the gym.
“An airlock accident is too mundane,” Struyen said. “We need to be more creative than that. She’s no fool, you know, and neither is Pimm. If Podmer gets word that we intentionally got rid of his new star, we can expect the same treatment. It has to be completely random and believable.”
Madisyn gripped a ledge in the bulkhead. She knew who they were talking about. It was clear that Struyen disliked Weiss, but this was totally unexpected. Madisyn’s first thought was to alert Podmer, but without proof, all she would accomplish was to reveal to Struyen that she knew about their plans.
“Either way, it has to happen quickly.” Struyen sounded impatient. “Podmer is handing over the goods once he’s back aboard.”
“What about an accident with the loading droid? Wouldn’t that be poetic justice?” another voice said. “I mean, after she and Pimm are all cozy in their quarters, what if she became a little personal with yet another machine?”
Madisyn heard the shuffle of feet and ran down the corridor. She had barely entered the stairwell before the door opened behind her. She hurried down the two decks to the shuttle bay area. No, she couldn’t tell Podmer, not yet. She needed to talk with Weiss and figure out a way to keep her safe. As if their mission wasn’t difficult enough.
Chapter Sixteen
Reena gazed up at the ceiling of the ancient Gantharian structure. Long, wide stairs made of something resembling white marble, worn down by the centuries, led up to vast columns. Inside, the ceiling walls were at least ten meters tall, and the ceiling was made of something blue and softly glimmering. Reena had been to the most beautiful and impressive courthouses within the SC, but she had to admit, this example of early Gantharian architecture was right up there with any of them. She saw four tall wooden doors, adorned with brass-like rivets and boasting massive square handles, at the far wall. The structure was abandoned and its imposing entrance had been nailed shut. Instead, the resistance showed the SC representatives in through a small hidden door.
“Judge Beqq,” a female voice said, interrupting Reena’s admiration. “Welcome to Gantharat. This is a big day. My name is Vimra O’Sianto.” A woman with long, chalk-white hair bowed politely, her arms crossed over her chest. She wore a long, blue robe, and her blue-tinted skin tone and crystal-clear, nearly translucent blue eyes indicated her Gantharian descent.
“Judge O’Sianto, the honor is mine.” Reena returned the greeting, bowing with her arms crossed. “This is indeed a great day. For us to be able to meet like this is a miracle. We could hardly see any signs of Onotharian presence in Ganath, once we managed to press through the ambush.”
“I was not surprised, but still very afraid for you and your delegation, when I heard of the attack.” Judge O’Sianto shook her head. “I hope no lives were lost.”
“On both sides, I’m afraid.” Reena thought of the young man who’d died while protecting them. They had worked tirelessly on him and the other wounded for over an hour, medics, diplomats, and soldiers alike, until a rescue team could reach them from the Circinus.
“I am sorry to learn of this. I have long waited for this moment, for the beginning of Gantharat’s liberation, but that does not mean I wish for any Onotharian lives to be lost either. Those young men and women are following the direct orders of the Onotharian authorities.”
“Perhaps. But they are still the enemy, let’s not forget that.” Dahlia joined them together with Kellen and Owena.
“Judge O’Sianto, this is Diplomat Dahlia Jacelon, of the Supreme Constellations, and Kellen O’Dal—”
“Protector. I am honored.” Judge O’Sianto bowed deeply. “Our prince’s survival, and yours, was the miracle we needed to find the strength to fight.” She bowed also toward Dahlia. “Welcome, Diplomat.” She politely acknowledged Owena with a nod.
“Thank you.” Dahlia looked around the large hallway. “Where is Ayahliss? Oh, here she comes with Andreia and Roshan.” She returned her focus to O’Sianto. “Where do we hold the meeting? Time is of the essence. My daughter, Admiral Jacelon, your other Protector, has sent intel that we need to work out the agreement right now, or we might lose our window of opportunity. She is in combat as we speak.”
Reena thought she saw a faint twitch at the corners of Kellen’s mouth. Kellen would sacrifice anything to keep her protégé safe, but the thought of Rae being in danger was distressing even for someone as stoic as Kellen.
“I have the interim government assembled behind the second door from the left.” Judge O’Sianto motioned for them to join her. “Your guards will remain here, yes?”
“Yes.” Kellen turned to the twelve marines and Ayahliss. “My tactical chief will make sure they don’t let anyone else through. Owena, at the first sign of trouble, don’t hesitate to alert the Circinus and initiate immediate evacuation of the dignitaries.”
“Aye, Protector.” Owena hoisted her rifle. “We’ve got it covered.”
“I know.” Kellen merely quirked an eyebrow, turning her head. “Ayahliss?”
“By the book, Protector,” Ayahliss answered smartly.
Reena wanted to say something, anything, to Ayahliss before they entered, but this was the worst of times to get personal. Still, the proud stance of the tall, stunning young woman who held her heart induced a multitude of emotions in Reena, and she wished she had time to exchange a few words. Ayahliss chose that moment to gaze directly at her, and the barely noticeable look of recognition showed that she had read some of Reena’s emotions in her eyes.
“Please, follow me,” Judge O’Sianto said, and began to walk toward the wooden doors. The other women, except Ayahliss, followed her. Just as she stepped through the doorway to the vast chambers inside, Reena turned and looked again at Ayahliss. We’ve come this far. We’re so close. Please, be safe.
*
“Evasive pattern, Delta-blue.” Jacelon gripped the armrests of the captain’s chair hard, grateful for the harness holding her in place as the Paesina momentarily lost inertial dampeners. The space ship spiraled through the oncoming fire from the Onotharian cruisers and assault craft.
Jacelon had carefully placed the ships belonging to her strike force in a semicircle around the Onotharian force’s base on a small, uninhabited planet halfway between SC space and Gantharat. If she took them out, the negotiations would become something entirely different, as this was the spearhead of the Onotharian force. Her intelligence reports proved that the Onotharians had impressive spacecraft, but their space force was small and could not match the SC unification of nations’ combined strength.
Choosing to captain the lead vessel herself, she was confident that her good friend Alex de Vies would monitor their effort from the command central. Jacelon could have chosen to do this, but sit
ting back was too much for her to handle, knowing that Kellen was deployed, doing her part.
“Admiral, we have three new contacts on our port bow.” Her lieutenant at ops spoke fast. “Two cruisers and a freighter.”
“Fire on their weapons array. Make them count.”
“Aye, ma’am.” The tactical officer’s hands flew across the controls in intricate patterns. “Their shields are down at forty percent. The freighter’s weapons are down.”
“Take us in underneath the Darga. We need to neutralize the two cruisers hammering at her. She can’t take much more.” Jacelon kept her eyes on the Cormanian freighter, surrounded by a swarm of assault craft and two Onotharian ships that laid down fire continuously. If they penetrated the shields around the Darga’s propulsion system, the vessel would explode and the two hundred crewmembers would be lost.
The Paesina’s helmsman pushed her through the small gap underneath the Darga. In a daring maneuver, while belly up against the Darga, Jacelon gave the order to fire. “Plasma fire, full volley.”
This neutralized most of the assault craft. Jacelon saw them tumble through space, two colliding with each other in a cloud of scattering debris. Suddenly, the Paesina rolled under her feet again, this time even more violently than before. Behind Jacelon a console burst into flames, quickly extinguished by the automatic system.
“Report,” she barked, pushing her hair out of her face.
“Direct hit to the port engine. Not sure how, but they penetrated the shields. Must be a multiple hit, ma’am.”
“Casualties?”
To her left, Lt. Gosch, her next in command on the Paesina, quickly checked. “Two bad plasma burns in engineering. Minor injuries on decks four, six, and seven.” He looked up, behind them. “You all right there, Ensign?”
“Yes…no, not really.” A faint thud made Jacelon turn around too, and she saw that the young woman behind them had fallen, the left side of her face red and swollen.
“Damn it.” Reacting fast, Jacelon disengaged the clasp to the harness and hurried to the ensign’s side. Kneeling, she felt for a pulse. Faint and thready, it fluttered under her fingertips. “We need a med team.”
“On it, ma’am,” the ops officer replied quickly. “They’re on their way.”
“I need someone to monitor her until they get her. She’s in bad shape.”
“Allow me, Admiral.” The lieutenant commander from engineering, a Guild Nation woman in her forties, quickly kneeled next to the ensign. “Sia, please. Can you hear me?” The pain and barely contained panic in her voice told Jacelon that these two shared a personal relationship. This wasn’t her business, but it brought back memories. Once, she had been the one critically injured, and Kellen had prayed at her side for days. “Help will be here soon.” She squeezed the engineer’s shoulder before returning to her chair. Pressing her lips together, she strapped herself back in.
“What’s our situation?”
“The Los’Hesos and the Untasta are making great progress and have almost immobilized or taken out their part of the grid.” The tactical officer hesitated. “We lost the Weoman.”
“Damn.” Jacelon checked her console, studying the pattern of ships around her. She saw several Onotharian cruisers move in one direction and followed their trajectory on her computer. Something cold coursed through her heart, oozing into her bloodstream, when she realized they were going for her father’s and Alex’s freighter. They must’ve figured out where the orders originated.
“Set a course to grid sixteen, one-six-five-five,” she said, her voice emotionless. “Ready plasma-pulse torpedoes, antimatter capped.”
“Ma’am?” the tactical officer said. “Antimatter capped?”
“I know, Lieutenant. You heard me. We have no time to waste.” The antimatter caps were rarely used, due to the risk of radiation. In combat, when ships were operating with failing shields, using such caps risked contamination. They were still legal only in situations like these.
The Paesina’s helmsman pushed her through space, skillfully avoiding the direct fire from more distant ships and the constant smaller shots fired from assault craft. Rolling her, he managed to put them just within range of the ships heading toward the command central vessel.
“Fire full-spread torpedoes on my mark.” Jacelon watched the fast ships plunge against her father’s ship, swallowing the bile that rose in her throat. No time for any weakness, physical or otherwise. “Ready…mark.”
Green-tinted, the missiles pierced the space around them, and within a few seconds they reached the cluster of ships. Impressive explosions tore through them and ripped them to pieces, and even though the Paesina kept a safe distance, her front still rose like a nervous thoroughbred horse from the shockwave.
“What about the command vessel?” Jacelon squinted, trying to make out ships through the debris and dust spreading throughout the area around them.
“Took a tumble, but no casualties,” the ops officer replied.
“Good.” Thank the stars.
A high-pitched tone seared Jacelon’s eardrums. She pressed her hands over them, knowing full well what it meant. “All hands brace for impact. Incoming cloaked missile.” Damn Onotharians and their love for everything cloaked.
The tone turned into a low growl, which seemed to reverberate through the ship like a large predator was swallowing it.
“Reroute all auxiliary power to shields!” Jacelon yelled.
“Shields not holding, Admiral.”
Closing her eyes as the thunderous sound grew, Jacelon drew a deep breath and held it. Kellen. I’m so sorry, Kellen.
*
Kellen sat mostly quiet, listening to the men and women of her home world and the distinguished diplomats and legal experts of the SC discuss the interim government and what was needed to set Gantharat up for success. Eventually, when the parties had managed to reach some agreements and draft an initial document, she spoke up.
“Let us not forget the reinstatement of the prince,” she said calmly. “I have yet to hear you plan how that will take place.”
“We will of course welcome Prince Armeo back as he is entitled to be. A parade. Yes, of course, but not until we have rebuilt his home, the castle.” A man at the far end of the rectangular table smiled. “He is but a boy still, there is yet time.”
“I disagree,” Kellen said. “Prince Armeo is the rightful heir to the throne. The O’Saral Royales have always governed Gantharat as a democracy.”
“We haven’t had a monarch in more than twenty-five years—”
“Because the Onotharians murdered everybody except their youngest daughter’s son.” Kellen stood slowly. “Is it my imagination, or are you reluctant to reinstate the royal family? You bow before me like I am something special, yet you seem indifferent to welcome back the young boy whom the people love and worship. Not just because of his heritage, but because of his courage and warm heart.”
“You misunderstand, Protector.” Another man rose. “Gantharat is heading for a new future after years of oppression. We are not sure if going back to the old ways of a monarchy is in Gantharat’s best interest.”
“You may have been oppressed, but that doesn’t mean you can disregard the law, once the oppression is eliminated.” Kellen towered over the sitting men and women, daring them to contradict her. “The law clearly states that any surviving member of the O’Sarals is the rightful heir to the throne. In case they are too young to govern, his Protectors will do so for him until he is of age.”
“Ah. You are aspiring to gain some political power yourself, Protector?” the first man burst out, his tone still polite, yet offensive.
“I only aspire to serve my home world. If it means assisting Prince Armeo in performing his duties, so be it. If it means guarding these negotiations with his and Gantharat’s best interest at heart, I will do that. Until a Gantharian government votes to abolish the monarchy and repeats this vote after yet another public election, the law is in effect.”
&nb
sp; “The Protector is correct,” Vimra O’Sianto said calmly. “Prince Armeo is our legal leader, and his Protectors make it possible for him to rule by proxy.”
“I concur,” Amereena Beqq said.
“From a diplomatic point of view, I advise not to cause any upheaval by provoking monarchy-loyal Gantharians, which I judge is the majority.” Dahlia spoke with a firm, convincing tone. “They have waited long for their freedom, and just as long for their beloved royal family and its protectors. One has become the symbol for the others, and vice versa. If you pull the O’Sarals from the equation, you’re making it virtually impossible for this process to succeed.”
Kellen looked gratefully at her mother-in-law. Dahlia’s strong voice, her innate authority, spoke of the matter at hand and made it all clear and reasonable.
“Very well.” The first man who’d spoken up sat down, a huff in his voice.
“I think we have reached as far as we ever could have hoped for today. I do not think we should risk being out after curfew. The Onotharians are fewer in numbers and focus on skirmishes with the resistance, but if they knew of our meeting, or found us gathered like this, especially after dark…” Vimra O’Sianto spread her hands in a gesture both familiar and alien to Kellen. She hadn’t prayed in a long time, but the gestures and murmured words came naturally to her after all.
After the prayer the participants began to leave one by one. Some had their own guards; others merely disappeared into the night. When it was time for them all to leave, she received a comm signal from the Circinus.
“Todd to O’Dal. Come in.”
“O’Dal here.” Kellen answered quickly, stepping away from the others.
“Kellen, please report back to the ship immediately.”
Jeremiah Todd never used her given name when they were on duty. Something was wrong.
“What is this about, Captain?”
“Kellen, please.”
“Tell me.” Kellen was not about to give in. Cold shivers were already tumbling down her spine.