The second last rendezvous before the final jump to Truth Space was an otherwise empty stretch of space, halfway between Peace and Truth. As the Frenzy Kenzie chugged towards the co-ordinates, Dana noticed that the usual heat signature grouping of 80 darts was not registering on her dash.
That was when she realised three hours had passed without any trivial Fleetnet message pinging her screen from Aramis, Athos or Porthos.
FRENZYKENZIE3: Is there an issue with the rendezvous?
STKONSTANTINA1: Have received no alerts.
FRENZYKENZIE3: The Fleet’s not where it’s supposed to be. How far out are you?
STKONSTANTINA1: Twenty minutes ahead of you. Looks like they jumped early – update pending.
Dana waited and tried not to fret. Chantal joined her on the bridge to wait for news, which she appreciated because the silence of the comm was unnerving.
“This happened to me on a long haul mission once before,” said the Printing and Inventory Specialist, in a voice that was probably supposed to be motherly and comforting, but mostly set Dana’s teeth on edge. “Usual protocol is that they leave one pilot behind in stealth mode, to deliver new co-ordinates in person.”
“But our next rendezvous is Truth,” Dana argued. “I mean, it’s a planet. It’s not like it can have moved.”
Chantal gave her an almost-pitying look. “If our orders have changed, maybe we’re not heading to Truth any more.”
When the stealth ship connected to the Frenzy Kenzie, it was with a clang that reverberated across the whole ship.
“Official protocol, you say,” Dana said, swallowing hard.
“Either that, or we’ve just been boarded by the enemy,” said Chantal.
“That’s not as comforting as you think it is.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be comforting!”
Bass spoke to them both over the comm. “It’s a silver moth-fighter. One of ours.”
“You can tell that from the noise it made?” said Dana, impressed.
Bass covered a laugh with a snort. “Oh, honey, no. The main airlock has a plexi-glass window. I can see it from here. Hang on, welcoming our visitor on board.”
The next ten minutes felt like an hour, punctuated only by a short message from Bass confirming that their messenger’s ID checked out; she represented Cardinal Richelieu and the Church Fleet.
That was even less comforting.
Dana managed to unhook herself from helm and harness, to greet the Church pilot as she entered the cockpit. There were a quarter of a million Moth fighters in the solar system, and yet Dana was completely unsurprised when her stealth visitor removed her helmet, and a long fall of black hair swung out.
“Hey, you,” said Agent Rosnay Cho.
“Are you even in the Fleet?” Dana blurted. She was used to seeing the special agent in candy pastel colours, far too cutesy for her vivid looks and sharp tongue. She looked good in red, with the Church Fleet jacket of scarlet and gold over a matching flight suit.
“I am now,” Ro said with a smirk. She held up a small clamshell. “Eyes only, Captain D’Artagnan. Especially for you.”
“Arms-Sergeant,” Dana corrected, but gave Chantal and Bass a nod to clear out.
Ro shook her head with a devastating smile. “You know the code, Dana. When you’re steering the ship, you’re the Captain, regardless of rank.”
Dana was tired. Tired of hiding and secrets and not knowing whom to trust. Tired of worrying about Conrad and her friends and the whole fucking solar system. “Where the hell is the Fleet, Ro?” she asked, and didn’t even care that the nickname slipped out.
Ro’s smile softened for a second –Dana later thought she must have imagined it – and then she was all business. “Three hours ago, the teardrop armada made their move.” She clicked open the clamshell to show a series of images: the now iconic picture of the grey “teardrop” ships of the Sun-kissed hanging in orbit around Truth, then the shocking development of the ships replicating in twos and threes, until there was nothing but a cloud of grey wrapping around the entire planet.
“That’s -” said Dana, and swallowed hard.
“You can swear for a while if you like,” Ro said helpfully. “The Captain of the St Konstantina is still thinking up new synonyms for ‘fuck’ – I left her to it after the first ten minutes.”
“Have they still not fired any shots?”
“It depends what you mean by shots and fired,” Ro said grimly. “This particular manoeuvre coincided with some a power wave that knocked about forty Fleet ships out of their orbital position, and sent all electronics screwy for a three-click radius. They managed to get a subsonic message to the incoming reinforcements, warning that all systems had been compromised. That’s why the Cardinal and the Regence moved the rendezvous. And that’s why you’re about to make a course correction.”
Ro passed over a new set of co-ordinates and Dana returned to her helm and harness, programming in the new flight path. Her radar picked up the St Konstantina, already tracking ahead of the Frenzy Kenzie.
When Dana finally looked up, Ro was sitting in the co-pilot’s seat beside her, making herself comfortable. “Moth’s spheres need recharging,” she said. “You don’t mind if I hang around for a few hours?”
“Do I have a choice?” asked Dana.
Ro grinned. “Nope.”
Dana gave herself over to the navigation of the ship, ignoring the intruder. When she darted a look under her eyelashes at Ro, the other woman appeared to be napping.
“Cardinal Richelieu is in league with the Sun-kissed, you know,” Dana said in a low, conversational tone.
Ro’s eyes flew open. It was the first time Dana had ever seen her ruffled. “Damn it, D’Artagnan, you can’t say things like that.”
“It’s true.”
“I know you Musketeers are basically children who think it’s all about taking sides in the playground,” Ro said after a strangled pause. “But that’s stupid. Her Eminence has always done what she thinks is best for the Crown and the whole fucking Solar System, that’s the remit of the Church – to protect humanity. The Sun-kissed have no part in that.”
“She’s compromised, and so are you,” said Dana, keeping her hands steady on the controls despite the anger that flooded her whole system. “How many of the Cardinal’s plots involved Milord de Winter?”
Ro narrowed her eyes. “I warned you he was dangerous,” she reminded Dana.
“You didn’t tell me he was Sun-kissed.”
There, she had surprised her. The special agent sat there in silence for a few minutes, while Dana steered the smooth metal tube that was the Frenzy Kenzie on course to their new rendezvous.
“How exactly did he compromise you, Dana?” Rosnay Cho asked after a long moment. “How deeply did you have to dig to find that particular secret?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Ro huffed to herself. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“Did you know?” Dana asked.
Ro looked at her from beneath her sweeping fringe and long, dark eyelashes. “Of course I didn’t bloody know. Just because the Cardinal doesn’t gambol around covering up evidence of royal adultery like some people doesn’t mean she would betray the human race.” She scowled darkly. “And neither would I.”
“You know now,” said Dana. It was odd, having the upper hand. She did not have the faintest idea how to use it to her advantage. It felt refreshing, to speak honestly. “What are you going to do about it?”
Ro shook her head. “Give me more than two minutes to assimilate this upsetting piece of intelligence. I’ll let you know.”
Dana felt oddly relieved, just as she had when she had confessed to Athos, Aramis and Porthos about Milord. She was no longer alone with this terrible news, and she would not have to work out what to do with that knowledge, without help.
What did it mean, that she was feeling this way about Agent Rosnay Cho?
43
Fleet United
The Second Wave of the combined Royal Fleet that had set out from Paris six days ago was now in orbit around Chaillot Station, a deep space recharging satellite that was twice the size and three times as grimy as Meung.
Walking into the briefing room on the Regence’s flagship with Agent Rosnay Cho at her back made the memories of that particular stopover even sharper in Dana’s mind.
“Don’t suppose you fancy a duel, for old time’s sake?” suggested Ro in a mocking voice. Dana glared at her, and Ro held up her hands in innocence before crossing to the other side of the room, where the Regence stood with Cardinal Richelieu and Amiral Treville.
Someone seized Dana’s sleeve, and she found herself dragged into a hug by Porthos, who led her over to the corner where Aramis and Athos were waiting.
“Making new friends?” Athos said dryly.
“Befriending old enemies, I think,” said Dana. She did not know what to think of Rosnay Cho, but war did that sort of thing, didn’t it? It brought unlikely allies together in a common cause.
“Because that worked out so well last time.”
Dana gave Athos a startled, wounded glance. He took a sip from a flask that was decidedly non-regulation. “Too soon?”
She punched him in the arm. “It’s never not going to be too soon, Athos.”
Aramis put placating hands on both of them to make them quiet down. “Treville’s about to speak.”
But the Amiral did little but wave at the crowd of pilots to command silence, before introducing the Regence.
Lalla-Louise Renard Royal was bright-eyed and animated in her plain flight suit, with none of the usual cosmetic enhancements or hair baubles she favoured for public appearances. Her hair was pinned up in a severe top-knot like the one Aramis always wore on duty. As if the Regence were a real pilot.
In a grave, majestic voice, the Regence outlined the situation: the enemy had engulfed the planet of Truth in a storm of ships, creating what looked like a wall wrapping entirely around the planet.
Satellite images suggested that part of the ‘wall’ effect was an illusion created by some kind of gas, but the fact remained: they no longer had individual targets to aim at, only a single enormous target that held a planet as hostage.
“Is it possible –” Dana began to ask without thinking, then clamped her mouth shut as she remembered where she was.
The Regence’s eyes flicked in her direction, and the traitorous Athos gave Dana a shove out of the corner, so she could more easily be seen.
“You have a question?” the Regence suggested in a mild voice.
“Arms-Sergeant D’Artagnan,” the Cardinal supplied before Treville could speak up.
“Arms-Sergeant D’Artagnan,” added the Regence.
Dana swallowed. Everyone was looking at her now. She had no choice but to follow through. “Pretty much the only thing we know about the Sun-kissed is that they are shapechangers,” she said. “Is it possible that their technology – that their ships, can also change shape?”
All three commanders – the Regence, the Cardinal and Amiral Treville, went very still. Dana didn’t know if it was because this was a new, terrible concept to them, or if they had already been working from such a theory but had not intended to make it public.
“That is entirely possible,” the Regence said finally.
Dana heard the Musketeers and the Sabres muttering quietly around her, the muffled noise rising and falling in urgent waves. She didn’t blame them.
It was bad enough to have to fight against ships they couldn’t see, without those ships potentially changing size or shape at any moment.
“That’s the best theory we have for how their fleet expanded so quickly,” the Regence admitted after the muttering died down.
“But of course,” said the Cardinal, moving nearer to the Regence. “We have God on our side.”
The Regence Royal smiled as if this act of togetherness was spontaneous, instead of painstakingly rehearsed. “With Church and Crown working together, nothing can stop the Combined Fleet,” she said, her voice filling the room powerfully. “United, we have so much to fight for – including the very future of the Solar System.”
She paused and placed a hand very deliberately on her abdomen, and it was clear from the quick look she received from the Cardinal that this part came as a surprise to her as much as anyone else.
For a moment, distaste crossed the Cardinal’s face – the very idea of producing children by natural rather than scientific means was not against the teachings of the Church of All, but was certainly not preferred when it came to royal heirs and expectant mothers flying into battle. It smacked of pandering to the Elemental populace, including Prince Alek himself.
But the expression passed so fleetingly that Dana could not be sure afterwards that she had really seen it. With her usual polite benevolence, the Cardinal led the assembled Musketeers, Sabres and other military personnel in a prayer for the safety of all members of the royal family, present and future.
After the briefing, Dana considered heading back to the Frenzy Kenzie, though they weren’t due to make the final approach to the Siege of Truth for another twelve hours and she was pretty sure she needed as much of a break as she could get from Bass and Chantal. The two of them would be vibrating with excitement over the possibility of a royal pregnancy.
Dana wanted to be alone with her thoughts about the transmission she had received, and what it might mean for Conrad Su.
In the end, she didn’t get a choice in the matter. Porthos slung an arm around her waist, preventing Dana from disappearing into the crowd. “Come and drink with us,” she insisted. “We’ve clearance to head down to Chaillot as long as we’re back in our bunks by 0:00 hours.”
Reluctantly, Dana agreed. “Drink with us” turned out to mean sharing a booth in the corner of a rather loud nightclub called Dovecote Red with Athos and Porthos, surrounded by most of the Combined Fleet.
“She’s gone to subspace transport,” said Athos, when Dana asked about Aramis. “A message from a friend that had to be collected in person rather than sent over the comm, so she’ll spend half the night in a queue.” His weary expression, lit up by the blazing pyrotechnics that poured from the domed ceiling of the club, suggested that he was entirely bored by Aramis and her social life.
“Speaking of friends,” said Porthos, her eyes gleaming. “What the hell is going on with you and Agent Scarypants, Dana? You were cozy when you arrived at the briefing. Isn’t she supposed to be your nemesis or something?”
“Or something,” said Dana.
There was drinking and dancing and the night was surprisingly fun considering that they were literally on the brink of war. The club’s light show was heavy on scarlet and crimson filters, making all the sweaty dancing look grisly after a few drinks.
With only 45 minutes before the curfew came down, Dana headed to the bar for a final refill when someone smacked into her from behind. She turned and found herself with an armful of warm, drunken Aramis, who pressed her face into Dana’s collarbone as if wanting to inhale her entirely into her lungs.
“Um,” said Dana. She caught sight of Athos over Aramis’ shoulder. He rolled his eyes as if this was no more than he had expected of the two of them. Porthos grinned and made an encouraging gesture that was entirely unhelpful.
If she let go now, Aramis would surely slide on to the floor, presuming she was as drunk as she seemed. Just as Dana had this thought, Aramis slithered a little higher to nip her on the earlobe and whisper. “Go with it, we need an excuse to be alone.”
Dana opened her mouth to complain that the pretence was entirely unnecessary given that the entire Fleet knew they were friends, and it would hardly be out of character for the two of them to slope off to some quiet corner together without the need for gratuitous making out.
Her mistake was in opening her mouth, because now she had Aramis’ tongue to deal with, and there was no thinking about anything remotely practical when she was having the very
breath kissed out of her.
“Well, that was discreet,” Dana managed to complain, eight lingering kisses later when they finally tumbled through the door of a private room above the club.
“Possibly there was a side bet with Porthos about how enthusiastically you’d respond to espionage kisses,” Aramis said, throwing herself on the bed.
“Because kissing hasn’t got me into far too much trouble already,” Dana sighed, perching on the edge of what was either a very uncomfortable bed or a very soft massage table. “What on earth is all this about?”
Aramis produced an antique pearl ear-drop. When she laid it on Dana’s dark brown wrist, it burrowed into her skin like any other data stud. “I was asked to collect a message from a mutual friend of ours – big surprise, since it was news to me you’d even met.”
Dana gave her a bleary look. “I’ve been flying a giant space boat for nearly a week with minimal rest cycles, do you think you could explain without all the flourish?”
Aramis pouted, and wriggled back on the bed until her head hit the pillow. “Flourish is my best thing.”
“Aramis, come on!”
“You know how your Conrad was teammates with Prince Alek and my ex, Chevreuse?”
Dana hesitated. “Yes.” That seemed safe enough.
“Well, while you were running around Paris trying to seduce the relevant information out of that backstabbing alien bastard who broke Athos’ heart –”
“Without flourish, Aramis!”
“Turns out that Prince Alek launched his own rescue mission, the second that the Regence left Lunar Palais for the front. Without involving a single Musketeer, which I’m trying to not take personally.” Aramis tapped the new pearl stud on Dana’s wrist and smiled. “Want to watch a handsome prince save your boyfriend?”
Dana sat through the holographic recording, trying not to hyperventilate. This was the same transmission she had viewed back on the Frenzy Kenzie, before Bass’ security measures severed the connection. The clip from the game, then the footage of the cell with Milord standing out of the range of the cam, taunting Conrad and, by extension, Dana.
Musketeer Space Page 40