by J Palliser
Moaning, she started massaging a bruise and let her eyes fall shut. She'd change later, when her arms stopped hurting.
*** Weis woke to a knock on the door. Startled, she glanced at the chrono by the bed – she'd slept for an hour. Growling, she clambered into a clean flight-suit and cracked the door, startled and annoyed to find a blonde head smiling down at her. It was Lilana, leaning against the door frame with something that looked suspiciously like a game-board tucked under her arm.
"What is that?" Weis asked, annoyed with herself for falling asleep and Lilana for waking her. "Holo-battle chess," the Sungari said, pushing a stray hair out of her face. "I figure, since you spent time at the Academy, you'd probably picked up at least some of the rules."
She didn't have an answer to that... "alright. New question: why are you here?" Lilana sighed and thudded her head into the door frame. "Because when you're not eating or sleeping, you're flying, plotting new ways to practice-murder the trainees, or in a simulator. For the sake of my sanity, please do me a favor and do something to relax." Her pleading expression turned guilty. "Also, my last plan to get you to socialize kinda blew up in my face. Figured this'd be a more controlled environment."
Glancing from the board to the woman holding it, Weis saw the stubborn look in her eyes and sighed. This wasn't a battle she was about to win.
"I should warn you, I'm fairly familiar with the game."
Lilana shrugged. "I had a feeling you might be."
Resigned to her fate, Weis swung the door open. Twenty minutes later, she was scowling down at the little holographic figures on the board, teeth chewing on the inside of her cheek. She was winning ... barely. Lilana had managed to put up more than a good fight.
"How the hell are you this good?" she snapped, trying to find a way around Lilana's defense. Lilana lounged back in her chair, looking completely at ease. "My dad taught me. We'd play whenever he wasn't off on missions."
"Sounds nice," Weis murmured. Her own father had taught her the game. Well, he had had her taught at least. She was lost in thought, trying to find an opening when Lilana spoke again. "How'd you get a trip, anyway?" she asked, looking bored. "I thought they only gave those out to the best of the best, or something."
"Trip?"
"Trip. Triple?" The blonde cocked her head. "It's slang for the Defender? You know... 'cause it's got three wings." "Ah." Weis nodded, finally understanding. Something else to file away with the rest of the slang she was learning. "I stole it."
When Weis didn't continue, staring intently at the board, Lilana groaned.
"Come on. That can't be the whole story." "Fine," Weis snapped. She preferred silent opponents, reducing the game down to just their moves. It seemed Lilana was not that kind of player. I shouldn't be surprised.
"It is impressive how quickly a pilot will agree, when the daughter of a Governor mentions she wants flying lessons."
"And?" "And what? I worked my way into an interceptor training squadron, practiced until I was sure I could handle it, then arranged for one last 'teaching' flight with the Defender. The oh-so-kind captain was only too happy to give me one last lesson."
Lilana snorted. "I'm sure he was." "He was probably hoping to curry favor with my father." Weis frowned, knowing that wasn't what Lilana meant. "As soon as I had an opening, I shot out his engines, dodged the flight of Defenders sent after me, and jumped."
"Just like that?" She shrugged. "I hopped between a few points to keep anyone from following me. Charted paths towards larger systems, dropped out of gravity-drive at a predetermined point halfway there, changed direction. Once I was sure no one could follow me, I hid the... 'Trip,' bought a small junk freighter with enough room in the cargo hold for the fighter, and made my way to Reich territorial space."
There. The corner of her mouth twitched in a smile as Weis found the opening she needed. Hands flicking over the game board, Weis captured one of Lilana's missile embankments, setting up her interceptor on a straight run for the blonde's base.
"So," Lilana said, drumming her fingers on the table as she leaned forward to check the board. "Your father really is Governor Sylvania."
"Yes, he is." Weis settled back in her own chair. "I expected a cooler response from the daughter of a Luftwaffe bombing ace."
Without a second's thought, Lilana moved one of her pieces to intercept Weis'. "Nah. My dad was an ex-Imperial too."
"General Xi Lao was a Tungari Imperial?" Weis asked, skeptical. She should have heard if one of the Reich's fighter generals had defected from the Empire. It wasn't uncommon, much of the original Reich were officers tired of the abuses under Imperial rule. Still, most of those were fairly well known for their previous service, and she'd never heard of a Xi Lao in the Imperial Defense Force.
"It's not common knowledge. He changed his identity pretty thoroughly after he defected. Apparently, the Empire really doesn't like it when their decorated pilots defect." She shrugged, her expression pensive. "I like the name we picked, but Rylana... she chose to keep her mom's."
"Why did he defect?" "A lot of reasons." Old pain flickered over Lilana's face, settling in the lines of her brow and her usually smiling mouth. "Rylana's mother... Shilana was on-planet when the Tungari decided to test their new orbital weapons platform, the 'stellar converter'. She died when Knorr laid waste."
Weis cringed. Not just at the story – in her short time on-base, she'd learned it was an oft-told tale within the Reich. Millions upon millions had lost loved ones when the Tungari Empire 'tested' their super-weapon on the planet. More than the story, it was the look on Lilana's face that did it for her. She'd rarely seen the blonde lieutenant without a smile... in fact, she couldn't really remember her looking anything but cheery.
Lilana's expression was anything but. "There was the whole story about it being the resistance, that it was an 'ore extractor' that got captured and misused, but he didn't buy it. When he found out the truth..."
Her brows furrowed. The room wasn't cold, but Weis saw a shudder run down her back. "I'd never seen him that quiet. The next day he sent Rylana and me into hiding and turned traitor. Brought his whole wing with him. Some of them had lost people too. The rest... they weren't idiots. They saw what the Empire had done to their captain."
"I'm sorry." Lilana shrugged, looking angry. "Yeah well, it's not like we're unique. Anyone with ties to the planet lost someone that day. A lot of people lost a lot more." With a sigh, she sat back, the old anger ebbing away. "How about you? What makes the daughter of a Tungari Governor join the Kriegsmarines?"
Weis huffed and gave up on finishing the game. "I joined the Tungari Imperial Force to protect people. I hunted pirates, slavers, the kind of scum who make others' lives hell." She shrugged. "One day, I decided the Empire was doing more harm than good."
Lilana nodded knowingly. "And the real answer?" I should have known better than to give her a line, Weis thought, scowling. "How about this," she offered, leaning back over the board. "You win, and I'll let you pry it out of me over a lot of drinks."
The Sungari met Weis' eyes, her smile returning. "So never, then?" With a grimace, Lilana cracked her knuckles and stared hopelessly down at the holoboard. "I'm definitely gonna need a rematch."
"Can I ask you something?" Weis asked, after they both had made a few more moves.
"Shoot."
"Captain Niles... she's not human."
"Yeah." Lilana looked up from arranging her defensive line. "And?"
"Well, is there anything... different about her?"
Realization flashed across Lilana's face. "I gotcha. You haven't spent time with a Arcadian before, have you?" Weis shook her head. The Imperial Academy wasn't human-only, but it might as well have been. In her entire time there, the only aliens she'd seen were the facilities staff
– janitors, the occasional cook. Before that, she'd grown up on her father's skyhook above Korsica, rubbing elbows with the wives and families of other Imperial officers and politicians. There hadn't been many chanc
es for her to meet non-humans.
"Lemme guess," Lilana purred, a sly smile creeping over her lips. "When she comes in the room, you start feeling a little weird. Heart beats faster? Chest grows tight, and everything about her just seems brighter? Suddenly you feel something you've never felt before?"
Weis' face went red. "Don't be an ass." It wasn't as bad as all that... or at least she tried to tell herself it wasn't. But there was still enough truth about it to make her cringe.
Lilana tried to hide her smile. "It's actually normal. Arcadian's like Syrrha, they give off these special pheromones. Makes most humanoid species find them really attractive. Really attractive. Not ripping-off-clothes attractive, but an Arcadian's on full-blast looks like the hottest thing to ever walk on two legs."
The small knot of tension in Weis' stomach relaxed. "It's just her biology?" "Yeah. Syrrha keeps a very tight hold on 'em and uses some sort of special deodorant or something to suppress it. Most people aren't affected, but some are more sensitive to the little bit that gets out. And she can't control it when she flies – too much adrenaline. The techs have to let her ship air out overnight or wear hazard suits to work on it."
"So... it's normal?" Lilana nodded and chuckled. "Don't sweat it. Like I said, she keeps it under control. In a couple days, you'll build up a tolerance. Knowing that it's just a biological response helps. And don't touch her right after a combat mission if you can avoid it."
"But it's not permanent?" Weis asked. From what Lilana had said, it didn't sound like it, but she wanted the hard 'no.'
This time, Lilana didn't answer quite as fast. When she paused, Weis looked up, startled, only to find the blonde staring down at the game board. "Just give it a week," she murmured absently as she moved her interceptor squadron into place. "You'll be fine."
"Are... there any other species that do that?" "What? Pheromones?" That got Lilana's attention. "There's the Falleen. Kinda like lizard-people," she said to Weis' confused look. "But other than that, I can't think of anything."
So not the... none of the other pilots, then. Weis wasn't sure whether to be worried or relieved. "Is there anything else I should know?" she asked, trying to clear her head. "I have to admit, I'm not used to this many non-humans. I feel like I'm playing catch-up trying to keep everything straight."
"I can't think of any big cultural things to avoid. No one here uses a handshake to indicate unending hatred or anything." She looked up and smiled. "You're doing fine, Weis. Better than a number of former Imperials I've met."
"Alright. Thank you." The former imperial reached down and moved her bomber into the space over Lilana's base. "And mate."
Groaning, Lilana sat back, hands held up in defeat. "Shit. Next time then." Glancing at the clock, Weis was surprised to see how much time had passed. She was even more surprised to find that she didn't really mind it. She'd expected to tolerate Lilana's attempt at bonding and send her packing – that and make it very clear she had no interest in repeating the experience. She'd never thought she would actually enjoy it.
Nodding, she rose to help Lilana clean up the board. "Next time."
45
Forty-Four
Orders...
Tungari Prime - Tungari Imperial Headquarters - 1441 hours
"I trust you have no objections." The white-haired colonel glanced down at the orders on her smart-pad. Everything was in order. Even if it wasn't, an order from an Tungari Imperial General wasn't exactly the kind of thing she could refuse. Or even object to, not after the news she'd received that morning.
Her face calm and impassive, Wynter Sylvania looked up into the general's eyes. How it had taken Imperial command two weeks to inform her of Weis' betrayal was beyond her. She could only assume they'd kept it quiet out of respect for their father. Or out of fear for what Governor Sylvania would do to them if they filed charges without his blessing. Only after he declared his daughter persona-non-grata did they issue her death mark.
And now it's come to this, she thought, glancing one more time at her assignment. She wasn't sure if it was a mark of trust or a cruel joke – possibly both, considering who was giving the orders.
"None, sir." "Good." The portly general sitting across from her nodded, apparently satisfied with her answer. Folding his hands before him, General Laguna leaned back in his chair. He seemed relaxed, completely at ease in the stateroom he used as his private office. Eyes half-lidded, he lounged in his chair, a sharp contrast to the straight-backed woman sitting across from him. He was every bit the picture of a comfortable career officer.
Nothing about his appearance suggested that he had a reputation for being one of the more merciless commanders in the Tungari Imperial Armed forces. Or that he was renowned enough, and respected enough, to be given command of an entire attack force. That reputation is probably what got him this command in the first place, Wynter mused. Someone wants a massacre.
"The Executioner leaves it moorings at oh-six-hundred tomorrow. We have the Viper, the Python, and the Darmok- class Sidewinder accompanying us for support."
"You're expecting star-fighter resistance," Wynter said, her voice flat. It wasn't a question. Darmokclass frigates were designed to counter the Kriegsmarines' love of having snub-fighters chew their way through larger capital ships. Bristling with guns, the Darmoks were a costly but effective replacement for the swarms of disposable Defenders many Imperial Admirals preferred to use.
General Laguna smiled slightly, drumming his fingers on the desk. "The Kriegsmarines have shown time and time again their ability to survive odds they shouldn't, with whatever meager resources they have on hand. When they lack capital ships, they make do with strike fighters. When they lack manpower, they rely on smugglers and criminals and non-humans. They find the disaffected dregs of the galaxy and throw them against us like ants. Unlike some, I can recognize this as a strength rather than mere luck. They're adaptive."
His smile turned thoughtful as he turned in his chair, staring out. "More to the point, considering our target, it makes sense to anticipate fighter resistance. The Sidewinder has a skilled captain and a tested crew. With a bit of planning, it should be as easy as slaughtering sheep."
For a split second, his passive calm vanished. Laguna's mouth split, his smile wolfish, giving him the look of a predator quite happy to have weak and wounded prey beneath his jaws.
"Remember, Colonel Sylvania. This is about sending a message. The very real message that the Tungari Empire will not tolerate any aid or succor provided to those usurpers on Imperial Center. Even from the daughter of a Governor. This may not be Topaz or Agmar, but I want every single Reich citizen on that planet dead."
"I'll have my wing aboard the Executioner tonight, sir."
Laguna turned back to look at her, his smile slipping away. Without it, he looked almost bored. "Good. Dismissed."
Wynter Sylvania rose to her feet, snapped a salute, and walked out of the room. Rage filled Colonel Sylvania's thoughts as she marched down the corridor to her quarters. A junior officer leaped aside as she passed, fumbling for the smart-pad he carried.
Wynter ignored him and rounded the corner. She'd just come from situating her wing in the Executioner's hangar – all 72 fighters and bombers. As the ranking officer for the pilots, she'd be in charge of commanding them during the attack, as well as coordinating with however many fighters the Viper and the Python brought. She didn't know the ships
– she'd need to request their pilot rosters, see what she needed to plan for the assault.
After she found someone's head to put through a wall. Her march brought her to her chambers within moments. Keyed, the pad, she stormed in, and palmed the control to close the door behind her.
Her rooms on the General's flagship were standard officer's quarters – more spacious than the bunks kept by most pilots, but still conservative in their use of space. Tossing her kit onto one of the chairs, she sank onto the bed, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. Stress had a way of gathering there. It always had �
�� a genetic trait, apparently, to match the family's distinctive white hair. Her father had it, her grandfather had it, her sister ...
Glancing up, she looked into the mirror set into the wall. Her tresses were still bound in its tight chignon, the only way to keep hair as long as hers within regulations. It made for a strong contrast with the Imperial grey of her uniform. It always had – and not just for her. The Sylvania family had a long, distinguished history reaching back to the days of the Tungari Republic. Her father fought in the First War before being made an Imperial Governor. Her grandfather had served for planetary defense forces before him. Generations after generations of Sylvanias had served the Republic, and independent planetary and regional forces when the Tungari lacked a military. Uniforms and federations might change, but there was always a Sylvania somewhere on the battlefield. There was even an old holo she remembered from her childhood, of a General Sylvania from the Outer Rim War, over three millennia ago.
And here we are. Sighing, Wynter reached up to unbraid her hair, letting it tumble down the back of her uniform. All that legacy, and now what?
How could Weis be so stupid? It was a question she'd asked herself a dozen times since the report came onto her personal smart-pad. She had a commission, and a good one too, considering how few Tungari Imperial pilots survived their first few engagements. Why couldn't she stick to hunting smugglers on the outer rim?
Wynter sighed and tried to rub away her headache. There wasn't anything she could do. Not now. Maybe if Weis had come to her first, maybe if the girl hadn't been so reckless, maybe she could have done something. Arranged for a transfer, or a medical discharge. Talked her out of throwing her career and her life away, at least.
Laguna really does have a sick sense of humor, Wynter thought and glanced down at her orders. But lesser families have had far worse assignments and demotions given to revenge one single officer's mistake. This is the General's idea, the Tungari Imperial Force's idea, of a second chance. An opportunity to prove that the Sylvania family is still loyal to the Empire.