Persephone

by Blaze Ward

  “And if it fails?” he asked. “If I fail?”

  “We’re wiring it all up and hopefully it works,” Siobhan said. “Worst case, you get captured again and the rest of us have to go home and grab a major warfleet to bust you out. I know Heather and Phil would be all over that, even if they had to go all the way back to Ladaux to get the people.”

  “But I’m still an Imperial officer, Siobhan,” he said, obviously pained.

  “We all are, these days, Granvie,” she teased lightly. “And you took an Oath to the RAN, to go with your other one. We don’t leave people behind.”

  “Just like that?” he asked, voice still soft and a little nervous.

  “Just like that, my friend,” she told him. “Those are your friends down there. Watching the sky every night and hoping that one of these days they will see a new star come down and rescue them. You’ll get to play the fairy godmother, this time.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then we go home, Centurion,” Lady Blackbeard snapped. “Phil would have already gone that way, except that we were able to rescue Persephone, and then Forgotten Mercy. Those were all rolls of the dice, and this one will be even more so, but we’ve got the pieces in place this time. We’ve borrowed Queen Anne’s Revenge, stolen Packmule, recovered Persephone, and now we have Forgotten Mercy. That’s a pretty good outcome for a year on a lost frontier.”

  “It’s just that…” she heard his voice trail off.

  “What will you do when it’s time?” she filled in.

  Rather than speak, he nodded, but she could see the words, the terror in his eyes.

  “It has been nearly eight years,” he whispered in apparent agony.

  “Is this the same crazy bastard that captured a hospital ship all by himself?” she asked, her voice growing coarse and sharp. “Walked in there with one barely-promoted-from-Landsman Spacer and made the entire crew afraid of you? Is this the same Granville Veitengruber?”

  He nodded, still a little white around the edges, but perhaps breathing again.

  “Then you’re overthinking this,” she said firmly. “You’ll come in hard and fast and launch a whole, freaking phalanx of surprise death on those bastards, firing every gun you have. Just like First Expeditionary does it. Then you land and start organizing folks on the ground for rescue, as soon as the rest of us can get there.”

  “There are still other stations in orbit,” Granville said.

  “And we’re outside of beam range,” Siobhan countered, pounding on the man. “That leaves missiles, and CS-405 is an escort specifically designed for that sort of thing. Plus, if they piss us off, I’ve heard Markus and Galin talking about heading over to Mansi-D.”

  “What in the world would they find there?” he asked, confused.

  Good, she had gotten him off the ledge of his fear. Engaged his professional curiosity. Reminded him he was an officer.

  “As I understand it from those two crazy rednecks, they want to rebuild one of the D-class hulls,” Siobhan said. “Not the honeytrap, but one of the other ones. Then fly out somewhere and capture an asteroid, sail in and let it go on a ballistic arc that intersects with a station, but not the planet below.”

  “That’s even more insane,” his face grew confused.

  “We’ve done it before,” she said, watching his eyes grow huge with surprise. “Well, not us specifically, but the original group of Keller’s folks: Auberon, Rajput, and CR-264. A decade ago, they did it against a group of pirates that had holed up on a moon somewhere. She told them to surrender, and then threw a rock at them. Gave them exactly that long to escape, and then everybody watched it impact and destroy the base.”

  “But how?” he asked her, still floating out there in some ethereal place.

  “The physics is easy, Granvie,” she said with a hungry smile. “You just have to be angry enough to actually want to do something like that to somebody. These are your people, sure. But they’re also ours. Never forget that.”

  “I had,” he admitted, after a long beat to process that tidbit. “I spent too long alone on Abakn, even after I found Deni. Forgotten what it was like to belong. To make a difference.”

  “We’re here because of you, Veitengruber,” she said. “And you will lead us into that final battle.”

  “Yes,” he replied, finally meeting her eyes, with a firm conviction taking root in his. “I will.”

  Admiral of the Fleet (February 10, 403)

  Because it was going to be that kind of day, Phil dug out his dress uniform from the air-tight bag in the back of the closet and had it pressed. Something about it just put his mind in the right place for this mission as he looked at his reflection in the mirror of his cabin.

  He was only a lowly Command Centurion, in charge of Keller’s smallest and least dangerous ship, but that hadn’t stopped him from accidentally turning into the Acting Fleet Centurion for this task force of dangerous pirates he had assembled.

  It had been ten months, lost at sea. Hopefully, in that time, Keller had been able to move the base someplace safe and get the rest of the ships rebuilt to come ravage Buran and maybe succeed.

  He looked forward to standing at his Court Martial, when he got back, listing off all the decisions that he had made instead of simply coming home, and pointing to all the hell he and his folks had been able to raise in the Altai sector, and even reaching in to threaten the Lena sector enough to make them flinch. First Lord Naoumov hadn’t been able to put him in a cruiser, but Phil sure as hell had proved that you didn’t need one to do your job.

  Keller had demanded crazy and violent as a way to get the common citizens of The Holding to fear their overlord less than they feared her. He had met enough of those people this year to understand that most of them were just folks. Trying to get by and make a living. Attempting to live a good life and have a little fun along the way.

  It was only their God that needed to be overthrown. The rest of the civilization wasn’t all that bad a place, once you got past that. Completely insane, but the citizens probably weren’t any weirder than his own extended family back home. Possibly even less so, but every family was crazy in its own way.

  He checked the time and pulled his tunic down one last time. He had lost weight over the year since he last had reason to wear this uniform. It hung a little baggy in places where it had been tight before.

  Phil put that down to stress, more than anything, because they had eaten probably better over the last year than he would have had they remained in the harness with Keller.

  One deep breath to center himself, and he emerged into the hallway.

  It was only a few steps to the bridge, and only a few more to the primary conference room. That pirate, Bedrov, had done all the little things right, at least when designing his corvettes. There were cabins close to all the primary workspaces, like the bridge, engineering, and emergency bridge, rather than all clustered in one space where someone might have to run the length of the ship in an alert.

  He was last to enter, but that was by design. His job today was to make an entrance. Everybody would already be there, including the Chief Medical Officer off Forgotten Mercy.

  Dr. Sam Au wasn’t one of his people. Wouldn’t remain behind when it was all done and stay in the Empire, as he suspected a few might consider, especially if they found what he expected at Mansi.

  Au hadn’t even expressed anything more than sympathy with their cause, but Andre Gave had spoken up for having her here. The Dragoon had echoed the sentiment, and the two of them had spent the most time with the woman over the last month. Good enough for Phil.

  They were seated as a trio at one corner of the conference table when he entered. Au went to rise, but fell back into her seat when she realized that nobody else had done more than look up.

  She blushed and they shared a quick smile. Maybe her heart was in the right place. Her assistance in this endeavor would make it much more likely to succeed. Her resistance would just be friction to overcome.

/>   Evan was at one end of the table, where he could gesture madly when it came time for the projection of Mansi, but most of these folks already knew what it looked like.

  And what their jobs would be.

  Lady Blackbeard and Ground Control were across from the medical team, with Veitengruber beyond Heather. Bok was here, finally back in uniform for one last charge before he retired for good. Kam was across from Bok, providing a balance there, as well.

  Phil had heard the stories of Able-Spacer Avelina Indovina and her plans to get herself made the Duke of Lighthouse Station. Bok apparently looked to retire there and possibly homestead the southern half of the lake. Or something.

  We all have different happy places.

  Phil walked to the end of the table, between Veitengruber and Andre, but remained standing just long enough to fix this image in his head. They would never again be together like this, he expected. Hell, given the last year, he could see First Lord breaking up this entire crew and sending them off to other vessels as a way of reintegrating some and promoting others, although it might also just infect other crews with the same craziness. That might not be a bad thing. Heather, Siobhan, and Evan were all due some sort of advancement for their work, and he probably was, as well.

  Someone else would likely take command of CS-405.

  And her legend.

  Good luck living up to that, bucko.

  He smiled. They smiled back, like his thoughts were in a bubble over his head. Maybe they were. You didn’t build a team like this without being able to communicate non-verbally.

  Phil pulled out the chair and sat.

  “Doctor Au, thank you for joining us,” he said formally to the woman. “This is not a planning session, per se, but perhaps one last drink among friends before battle.”

  “I see,” she replied quietly.

  Phil had spent a little time around Keller’s tame defector, the old Khan of Trusski. Scholars of The Holding held themselves separate from the rest of society, above the Technicians, the Warriors, and the Artisans, as philosopher/kings from Plato’s old model.

  He didn’t think it would work, but probably having a deathless God in your face all the time with the power to punish would keep the human tendency towards greediness and sloth in check.

  “We are going to Mansi,” Phil announced in a voice that left nobody surprised. “Persephone will be our Trojan Horse. If all goes as planned, we will eliminate the command station orbiting the planet, and then see if the other seven wish to surrender, or be destroyed in turn. Kam, I’ve read the notes from Tuason and Dunklin. If it comes to that, I think they’d be better off launching a whole bunch of smaller rocks at once, rather than a big one.”

  “Why?” Kam perked up. “One big one will be harder to kill.”

  “Actually, it would be easier to blast with the big guns until it broke apart,” Bok spoke up gruffly. “Each shot deflects part of the rubble off course. Buckshot will require every individual rock be blasted. We forget who our target is.”

  Kam just fixed the Boatswain with an arched eyebrow, so Phil let them quibble.

  “They don’t have shields, Kam,” Bok said. “Those deflect rocks, too. Those stations have power absorbers. Great against explosions and beams. Worthless against a ton or six of nickel-iron moving at high speed.”

  “Exactly,” Phil agreed. “But I hope we won’t have to go there. Or if we do, that it’s only one, until everyone comes around.”

  “How do we round them up afterwards?” Trinidad asked. “Boarding parties?”

  “Negative,” Phil said. “I’ll order them to abandon ship in lifepods. Then we’ll spike the empty stations with guns. They can live on the ground for a while, until someone comes along to rescue them. It was good for the goose.”

  “Then we come into play?” Andre asked, turning to include Dr. Au in his question.

  “Yes,” Phil agreed. “Packmule and Forgotten Mercy will stay out at the edge of the system, ready to run if something goes wrong. Once military operations cease, I’ll need you both down in orbit. We’ll gather up as many men as we can, as well as supplies from the surface, and then sail straight home to Osynth B'Udan. If we can’t get everyone on the first pass, we’ll come back with a second fleet for the rest. If we can, then we’re home and we can send all our prisoners back to their own lives. That includes your medical staff, Dr. Au.”

  “I still find it hard to believe that we would not become permanent prisoners ourselves, Director Kosnett,” she replied evenly, if a touch quieter.

  Her voice had all the emotional loading removed, but he could still see the fear in her eyes. After all, it might be good for the gander, as well.

  “I will not allow it,” Phil said simply, in as grim a voice as he had.

  Veitengruber pounded a fist on the table, while others echoed the sentiment.

  “I do not understand,” Dr. Au complained.

  Phil started to speak, but Heather leaned in and got his attention, obviously wanting to say something. He nodded and leaned back.

  “We met a defector from The Holding, Dr. Au,” Ground Control said. “He explained that, as he saw things, the purpose of your civilization was to provide the highest possible level of ethical interaction between people. That The Holding would eventually absorb the entire galaxy, by providing the best example of a proper life.”

  “Well yes, of course,” the other woman agreed. “All Scholars are taught that, and in turn teach it to other castes.”

  “The defector had come to Fribourg to try to reach Imperial Scholars, Dr. Au,” Heather’s voice turned a shade darker now as Phil listened, keeping his own scowl hidden. “After The Eldest attempted to destroy St. Legier, he defected and renounced his name and birthright, because he saw that attempt as the greatest possible failing of Buran and everything it stood for. It was no longer: Join us and see how much better your lives can be, Doctor. The Eldest had drawn it in much starker terms: Submit, or I will destroy you. You have ceded the moral and ethical high ground, and will never recover it.”

  Phil found Au’s blush fascinating. Obviously, the woman wanted to argue. To negate everything Heather had just said.

  And could not. All ethical arguments fail when you are reduced to orbital bombardments of innocent civilians to make your point.

  She subsided instead, slamming her mouth shut and obviously grinding her teeth from the way her jaw muscles moved.

  But at the end of the day, there just wasn’t much you could say to any of that.

  “So while we understand that many of you have high ethical standards, Dr. Au,” Phil concluded the thought, “many of us believe that you are in service to evil. Fribourg and Aquitaine did not and will not keep slaves. They both captured prisoners and sent them home. They did not trade all that much directly, but allowed neutral nations to operate without significant hassle. Humans were given as much freedom as they could handle, rather than answering to a God in real time. Because we will all have to explain ourselves to the Creator, one of these days.”

  The room fell silent. Sam Au took a deep breath and released it, eyes still focused on the tabletop in front of her, rather than any of the people.

  Finally she looked up at him. Phil could see much of the same pain in the back of her eyes that Seeker had brought with him from St. Legier.

  Who likes to wake up and suddenly question everything in a new light?

  “Was all of this for my benefit?” she asked, gesturing to the room.

  “Only some, Doctor,” Phil replied evenly. “The rest was to impress upon you that we are doing all of this for our own higher motives. And that everyone in this room will fight anybody that decides not to send you home when it is all done.”

  “Including Keller?” she asked. “I have seen and heard the reports of her swath of destruction across Altai.”

  “I honestly believe that we could replace everyone in this room with the crew off of any other vessel in First Expeditionary Fleet, and the conversation would not
have changed that much,” Phil said. “Keller has ordered retaliation for St. Legier, but she does so because she wanted the people of The Holding to understand what The Eldest did. Her war is with the God, the Buran itself, and the Warriors who bomb innocent worlds from orbit. You are not a Warrior, so you are not my enemy.”

  The blush was back. Phil suspected the woman was having a massive crisis of conscience today, which actually had been his plan, not that he had told anyone else. The surge of blood into the face just meant that her emotions were too close to the surface.

  Keller had demanded that the people of The Holding fear her more than they did Buran itself, so that they would not do anything significant to prevent her intended deicide.

  And Phil really wanted to be there when that woman killed a God.

  “I cannot speak for my crew,” Au said in a tiny voice, still not angry or afraid. “But I believe I understand now. And we will try.”

  “That’s all anyone can do, Dr. Au,” Phil answered her. “Find the ethical solution. We must seek to make the galaxy a better place than we found it.”

  Mansi (February 17, 403)

  From deep space, the system was peaceful. Almost placid, as Granville watched the sensor feed come in from Evan Brinich aboard CS-405.

  One yellow-orange semi-dwarf of about one and a half solar masses. Six major planets in orbit, with B in the habitable zone and D out further, with a junkyard of lost dreams on the surface of one of her moons. Eight stations on a cubical, defensive orbit above the main planet, capable of covering every centimeter of approach, but not providing any significant overlap of firepower.

  Why should they? Who would be crazy enough to try something like this?

  Out at the edge of the system, nothing had changed since he had last watched this system dance.

  A light flickered on, on the console in front of him.