War Against the White Knights

by Tim C. Taylor

Xin banished the star chart and instead requested a mirror, which took shape in the air before her. By rights she should be running through the battle plan one more time, but to hell with that – she’d helped to draw the frakking thing up and knew it by heart in any case.

  She turned sideways on to the mirror – a maneuver which would once have taxed the fresh-faced and just out of training Xin when she had first set out from Tranquility, but not the zero-g veteran she had become. She examined herself critically. Was anything showing? She could see it. Even if Arun claimed not to and insisted that it was all in her imagination, she could see it: the slight suggestion of a bump, the faint contour that denoted new life stirring within her… Or not stirring in this instance, not anymore.

  Time to suit up. She closed down the mirror, wondering fleetingly if anyone kept track of such things. She could imagine some grizzled quartermaster somewhere scratching the stubble of his chin and scowling at a display while muttering, “Merde! A fragging mirror again? How many times does one woman need to look at herself? Doesn’t she realize there’s a war on and the computer has more important things to do than keep showing her how gorgeous she looks?”

  That image hadn’t entirely dissipated and she hadn’t quite stopped smiling when the door to her quarters burst open and General Arun McEwan sailed in, floating head first with more momentum than was wise given the compact nature of the cabin.

  “Arun! What the frakk do you think you’re playing at?”

  “Sorry, I just wanted to–”

  “What, catch me in my under suit?”

  “No! Well yes, that to, obviously, but… You don’t have to do this you know.” He said it in a hurry, a tumble of sounds, as if he had to force the words out all at once in case they turned and ran to cower at the back of his thoughts, never to emerge again.

  “Yes I do.” She, on the other hand, was proud of the way she spoke calmly, concisely.

  “You shouldn’t be out there, putting yourself in danger,” he went on, as if he hadn’t heard her. “There are plenty of other roles you could undertake, just as important, just as meaningful.”

  She softened for a moment, touched by his concern, and reached out to stroke his face; a display of tenderness that seemed to surprise him. “But I’m a Marine. This is what I’ve trained for all my life, what I’m best at – leading other Marines in battle.”

  “I know, but given–”

  “What, my condition? Is that what you were going to say?” The tenderness was gone, the caress withdrawn so suddenly it seemed to surprise him anew.

  He nodded, unable to deny the truth. They both knew what he had meant.

  “We’ve been over this a hundred times, Arun. I’m carrying our child, yes, but that doesn’t change anything.”

  “It changes everything!”

  “No, no it doesn’t. This isn’t an illness. I’m not infirm or disabled, I’m pregnant. That’s nothing but a physical condition, and one that I’m managing.”

  Why couldn’t he see this? She’d explained it to him over and over. Why couldn’t he simply accept that she’d made a decision and was tired of having to constantly justify it to him? The pregnancy was in the early stages, the fetus no more than two months old, and she had arrested the process there, frozen its development so that it wouldn’t grow any more, not until she was ready. Her body could carry this tiny passenger suspended in time almost indefinitely, for years – decades if necessary – and they both knew how impractical it would be to give birth now.

  “There’s a war to be won,” she reminded him.

  “I know, and we’re winning it, and you’ve played an invaluable part in that, but we can finish the job without you taking such an active role from here on in.”

  “Oh, so I’m redundant now, am I?”

  “No, of course not. That’s not what I’m saying – stop trying to twist my words.”

  She sighed, tiring of the same old arguments. “Look, Arun, I know you’re concerned.” For her, but for his baby most of all, and part of her rankled at that. He hadn’t shown any inclination to dissuade her from active combat before she fell pregnant, only now, when she was carrying his child. She knew it was unreasonable, ridiculous to be offended by that – to even notice it – but she was. “That’s sweet of you,” she said, “but nothing you say or do is going to change my mind. The only thing your fretting achieves is to make me angry. With you, and that’s not what either of us wants, is it?”

  “Of course not.” He tried to reach for her then, awkwardly, but she failed to respond, too angry with him to do so.

  “It’s not just the war…” she said, regretting the words immediately. Why had she said that? He knew her reasons, all her reasons, and there was nothing to be gained by airing them again.

  “The Cull,” he said, and there it was, out in the open, refusing to be ignored.

  “Yes,” she confirmed. No going back now. “We’re the first generation, the only generation as far as we know, in the whole history of the White Knight Empire to have escaped the Cull. The Human Legion is still beholden to the damned Knights… we’re on our way to rescue their Emperor for frakk’s sake, and we both know how entrenched the Cull is in their culture. I’m not bringing a baby into a universe where, if he or she doesn’t get killed in a bloody civil war, they’re just as likely to be killed by random selection for no sane reason.”

  “I’d never let that happen,” he said. “Why won’t you believe me? The Cull is barbaric and senseless. I won’t permit the White Knights to impose it on us ever again, no matter what.”

  “Then say as much,” she implored him, desperate that he should understand how important this was to her. “Not just to me, to everyone. Declare it publicly. Make the abolition of the Cull one of the tenets of the Human Legion, a rallying cry that people can flock to. They will, you know.”

  But he shook his head. “No. It’s a bargaining chip. When we stand before the Emperor we’ll be doing so in a position of strength. The Legion will just have saved his throne, and I’ll be able to demand whatever I want, but he’s not going to just give concessions away. He’ll want to keep hold of as much as he can. If we broadcast a major goal like that this far in advance it’ll give him an edge, weakening our hand.”

  “And if through no fault of your own you fail to deliver on stopping the Cull, you won’t be breaking a commitment because you’ve never made one,” she said.

  “No!” he almost shouted the word. “That’s not why. The Cull will be lifted from us, I swear it. Why won’t you trust me on this?”

  She only wished she could. But she didn’t say the words, biting them back, knowing how much they would hurt him, hurt them. Instead, she shook her head and forced a smile. “Look, enough of the arguments for one day, okay? Get out of here and let me finish getting dressed. I’ve now got less than an hour until the final command conference before we liberate this system. I need to get my head in the right place first.”

  He looked as if he would have said more, or perhaps he was waiting for her to, but neither of them did. The moment passed. Arun shook his head, pushed himself away from the bulkhead, and left.

  — CHAPTER 02 —

  Arun studied the screens and felt deep satisfaction. The New Empire forces had been swept from the Pravlix system and Xin was okay. Xin was okay! Having established that, he could afford to dismiss her from his thoughts and concentrate on what he should be doing.

  Ever since his days as a cadet, Arun had been lauded as a strategic genius – that was what had marked him out – but in the earliest years of the Legion he’d had little opportunity to utilize that talent. But as the scope of the Legion’s operations had expanded, so had Arun’s opportunity to shine, to show what he was made of and justify the faith so many people had placed in him.

  The Legion now had two fleets, their original task force swelled by the new ships built at Khallini as well as reinforcements from the Littorane homeworld, which had gone into full production even before they set out. Th
ey had new weapons and tactics, which neither side in the White Knights’ conflict had seen before, and – perhaps most telling of all – they had the Night Hummers, enabling the actions of both fleets to be coordinated irrespective of distances involved without burning through a costly reserve of chbit entanglements, a restriction that had hampered them during that First Tranquility Campaign against Tawfiq and the Hardits.

  Under Arun’s strategic command, victory follow victory for the Legion. In truth, the whole thing had proved a lot easier than he anticipated. The New Empire’s 3rd Fleet had been the dominant force in this sector of space, the hammer that had smashed the opposition and driven all before them. Having defeated the 3rd Fleet, progress was a lot swifter than he could have dreamed of. The war was being fought over too wide an area, both sides committed in too many theaters to concentrate sufficient strength in any one place – the 3rd Fleet had been an exception, benefiting from exactly the same factors that now worked in the Legion’s favor.

  The recent battle had been a case in point. In the past the Legion had overcome theoretically superior forces, whereas now they were being confronted by inferior ones hastily gathered to oppose them. It made a pleasant change to find themselves outgunning and outnumbering the enemy. He knew the dangers of complacency, but it was difficult not to succumb when they were operating from a position of such strength. That didn’t rule out individual casualties, of course, hence his fretting over Xin. Why she couldn’t take a step back from the front line he’d never know… but then she wouldn’t be Xin.

  Arun sighed, finding it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand. Everyone knew that a major battle lay ahead of them and that each minor victory brought it closer. Things wouldn’t be so easy once they reached the White Knights’ homeworld, where rebel forces were mustered in strength. Theoretically he was supposed to be calculating the rate of advance of the two fleets given recent actions, coordinating their approach so that both arrived in the White Knights’ system together, converging on two fronts, maximizing their strength and preventing the New Empire from concentrating their defenses to take them on individually. His command team had learned to leave him alone at such times, which at least meant his current distraction wouldn’t be noted.

  He missed Springer, and he missed Del-Marie. The latter had developed into as close a friend as Arun had these days, except for Xin of course, filling the gap that Hortez’s death and Springer’s estrangement had created, but Del-Marie had stayed behind to negotiate with the natives on Tallerman-3 after the Legion had swept the New Empire forces from the system. The Tallermanians could prove useful allies and Arun was keen to recruit them to the Legion’s cause, but they were showing little enthusiasm for the prospect, preferring to be left alone. At the very least, Arun intended to use the planet as a staging post. Khallini’s mudsuckers were an invaluable resource, but Arun was acutely aware of how stretched the lines of communication back to Khallini had become, and of how vulnerable the suckers were while confined to just one small world. Khallenes, he corrected himself, remembering Del-Marie’s dismay when he referred to their valuable allies as suckers. Tallerman-3 provided an environment that, on the face of it, would suit the Khallenes perfectly, and the plan was to station some of them there, where any new innovations would be more immediately accessible to Legion forces.

  At best, Arun hoped that the Tallermanians would commit some of their dour but competent soldiers to supplement the strength of his Marines, but that might prove beyond even Del-Marie’s abilities.

  His train of thought was interrupted by a communications beep, signaling that the officer on duty wanted to talk to him. He opened a channel, knowing that it had to be something important for them to disturb him.

  “Yes?”

  The face of a middle-aged woman confronted him. He ought to know her name, and recognized her as one of the officers woken from cryo back on Khallini, but her identity escaped him for the moment.

  “General, sorry to trouble you, but we have an urgent communication from Ambassador Sandure on Tallerman-3.”

  Speak of the devil. “Via Night Hummer?”

  “No, sir, direct visual.”

  That was concerning. What could be so important that Del would burn chbits when there were Hummers available? “Very well, patch him through.”

  Del-Marie’s face appeared, replacing that of the officer. Concern was apparent in every aspect of his features.

  “Ambassador Sandure,” Arun said.

  “General, we have a problem.”

  Arun could hear the tension in his voice. “I’m listening.”

  “We’re about to be invaded.”

  “What? Clarify.”

  Del drew a deep breath. “I think it will be easier to simply show you.”

  The image switched to a depiction of the Tallerman inner system. The scene was decorated by multiple pinpoint lights; ships. A fleet, and a large one at that. Arun was stunned. This couldn’t be the New Empire’s first or second fleet – Arun knew where they were: too far away to worry about – unless the intel was wrong and the enemy had somehow blindsided them.

  “Have they tried to communicate?” Arun asked.

  “No, and all our own overtures have gone unanswered. As yet, we’ve no idea who they are.”

  “Hostile though, you think.”

  “Judging by the way they’ve taken out facilities in the outer system, yes; definitely hostile.”

  “Frakk!” Arun’s mind whirled, trying to make sense of this. “All right, Del, keep us informed as much as you can, and do whatever you have to in order to survive. We’re coming for you.”

  “Say again, General. Your words sounded like madness. Something about coming back for me.”

  “I know, Del. If Tallerman is facing invasion, then your battles will be won or lost years before my fleet could reach you. You are a valuable asset, Ambassador. If Tallerman falls, then I order you not to fall with it. Stay alive. Besides, Tallerman is at least friendly to the Legion even if not yet a formal ally. Every brass cog inside my head is telling me to counterattack without delay. That it’s more important to first win the moral victory of punishing any encroachment on the Legion’s sphere of influence than to press ahead toward the Emperor. We have to show that we can’t be messed with.”

  “Understood, General. And for what it’s worth, Arun, I agree with your assessment.”

  “Stay safe, Del. Try to make my presence unnecessary. McEwan out.”

  Arun broke the connection. He’d meant what he said to Del-Marie, though not for any sentimental reasons. They couldn’t afford to take on a potentially strong enemy at the White Knight homeworld while a powerful foe lurked at their backs. He had no intention of seeing his forces caught between a rock and a hard place – they had to deal with whatever this new threat might be before they could prosecute the mission.

  “Lieutenant Mishkov,” he said, having remembered the officer’s name.

  “Yes, General.” Her face appeared before him once more.

  “I’m on my way up to you. Prepare the fleet for a deceleration burn, and have navigation set a new course. We’re going back to Tallerman-3.”

  “Aye, sir! Sir… while you were talking with the ambassador, I received reports of unidentified military vessels detected in Lyre-Draconis and Occam-Beta. And… standby… ‘K’ Fleet reports they are under attack.”

  “Mother dog! ‘K’ Fleet is in transit between star systems.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The news stunned Arun. Neither side in the Civil War possessed the technology to intercept a fleet at cruising speed. Who the frakk was doing this? A nearly forgotten name came to his lips. Amilx. Could this be their move?

  “Don’t sit there talking with me, Mishkov. Sound general quarters. Ready the fleet for battle. Someone’s trying to take down the Legion in a single blow, and we could be next.”

  — CHAPTER 03 —

  Romulus set the Mark1 Mustang on autopilot and turned his attention fully to the d
elightful purpose of this pleasure jaunt.

  “Are you sure you’re not talking crap?” asked Janna. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  Behind his grin, Romulus hid the hurt that after all these years she didn’t quite trust him.

  “Favors called in,” he explained with a shrug. “Backs scratched, and a whole galaxy of groveling. That’s what it took. Dodger is taking my place on patrol so I could take this old boat out for a spin with my girl.”

  “Your girl? I’m not your anything.”

  He laughed.

  She punched him in the stomach. It chodding hurt.

  “Speaking of favors, you owe me too,” he said mock seriously. “I saved your life back at Tranquility. Rescued my beautiful princess from a falling space elevator.”

  “That was Remus. Not you.”

  “Brothers share and share alike.”

  Janna frowned. The alien symbiote he had passed on to her had hardened her skin into leathery hexagonal plates in shades of gold and green. Beautiful though it was, her armored skin muted her facial expressions, especially since her eyebrows had fallen out.

  “I don’t like to owe anyone favors,” she said.

  “Quit messing me around, Janna. I thought you were as up for this as I am.”

  She punched him in the shoulder, a playful blow hard enough to make him yelp. Couldn’t she do anything gently? He grinned; he could think of a few things.

  “You’re too sensitive,” she said. “I need to roughen you up. Starting right now. Did you do what I asked?”

  Romulus’s face split into a wide smile of pure joy. God, he loved this woman so much it hurt. He would crawl on his belly over poisoned flechettes just to keep her safe.

  And she was fun. Oh, so much fun.

  He had spent weeks perfecting his next move. He waited a few more heart-racing moments to enjoy watching her squirm in anticipation in her acceleration couch, and then he snapped his fingers.

  The special program he had embedded into the smartfabric uniforms now activated.