“How the hell did you even get him to notice you?” she finally asked.
Barrie laughed.
“I beat him with a metaphorical stick for six long, frustrating months,” he admitted. “Once I decided I was interested, I told him. We were already friends and I knew he was as interested in men as women…but I also knew the level of his interest.
“I didn’t push him; I just kept gently reminding him, week after week, month after month, while we ran peacetime operations in the old FighterDiv. Eventually, his brain flipped a switch and things worked out.” Barrie sighed. “I don’t know quite what to suggest, Em Todorovich. Tell him, I guess? Let him make up his own mind.”
“That’s more helpful than you might think,” she admitted. “Thank you.”
She rose from her seat and he made an airy gesture.
“It’s nothing, Ambassador,” Barrie told her. “Just promise me one thing, all right?”
“Captain?” she said carefully.
“Make him happy, if you do make it work. A good chunk of me still needs to see him happy.”
“I hope I get the opportunity,” Sylvia said.
Chapter Forty-Six
Raven limped her way into the rest of the fleet, with her younger sister hovering around her like an overprotective puppy. The two destroyers circling the battlecruisers broke off as they entered the defensive perimeter of Scorpius’s slowly returning fighter wings, joining the rest of the escorts.
Henry was on his ship’s bridge as they reached safe space, and he allowed himself to finally relax as ten SF-122’s swung around behind his ship, a physical barrier between Raven and the system where she’d been so badly mangled.
Only a tiny watch was on the bridge, with over ninety percent of his crew unconscious in their bunks. What damage could be repaired had been fixed under the ice. Only a shipyard could do more at this point—and even most shipyards couldn’t do much about his poor ship’s broken spine.
Or Henry Wong’s exhausted soul. Sylvia Todorovich and Alex Thompson were alive. Those were powerful balms against his mental wounds, but the toll of the Drifters’ betrayal continued to stack up.
Few of Carpenter’s or Glorious’s crew had survived. They’d been fired on at close range without warning. There had been no chance for anyone to make it to escape pods or safety bunkers. Of the four hundred and twenty-three UPSF officers and spacers aboard Glorious—all of them under Henry’s command, hence his responsibility—seventeen had been found alive.
The Kozun had at least been at battle stations, and many had made it to escape pods. The survivors’ stories there were the worst wound of all, though. Star Voice Kalad’s flagship had lost her bridge early in the action, and Kalad had taken direct command of the cruiser, fighting her to the last.
She’d still been aboard and in command when the ship ran into the minefield no one had anticipated. There was no evidence that anyone aboard the heavy cruiser at that last moment had survived.
Henry Wong had sent Star Voice Kalad away in defeat once, but she’d survived both her battle with him and the consequences of that defeat in the Hierarchy. The Drifters had changed that fate, orphaning her child in a single moment of violence.
“Ser, Scorpius reports they’re sending a shuttle for you,” the Chief holding down the com console told him. “ETA is ten minutes. There’s apparently going to be a command meeting including all three ambassadors in two hours.”
“Understood,” he replied. He glanced around the sparsely inhabited bridge and sighed. “Chief, can you get a team to pack up Ambassador Todorovich and her staff’s things? They’ll be far safer aboard Scorpius, and while I don’t know where they’re ending up, well…”
He shrugged. He didn’t even need to tell the Chief. No one aboard Raven had any illusions about the battlecruiser. A surprisingly large portion of the crew had survived, but only through the sacrifice of the starship herself.
“I guess I’ll go find a dress uniform,” he said, glancing around. “Lieutenant Henriksson!”
The engineering officer looked up in surprise. She’d been entirely focused on her console and the task of finding anything still repairable aboard the battered ship.
“Ser?” she asked.
“You have the con, Lieutenant,” he told her with a grin. Engineering officer wasn’t a watch standing role, though any officer who wanted to advance to command would volunteer to backfill the watch standers to get experience.
“Ser!” she confirmed, her voice concerned.
“We’re in the middle of a friendly fleet with our engines off, Lieutenant,” Henry told her. “I know you can handle Raven in that situation—and you’re the only other officer on the bridge. So, yes, Lieutenant, you have the conn.”
“Yes, ser!” she said, straightening slightly and tapping commands to transfer central control to her console. “I won’t let you down.”
“I know.”
Not only did Henry have full faith in the junior officer, there was basically nothing she could do to let him down in Raven’s current state.
Henry’s dress uniform was his normal slacks and turtleneck with an additional white-piped and short-tailed black jacket. The jacket was collarless, allowing the white collar of his turtleneck to showcase his rank insignia above it.
A four-soldier fire team of GroundDiv troopers hovered behind him as he waited for the shuttle to land. They had the cases of Todorovich’s people’s gear on trolleys. All of them would fit easily on the spacecraft they were waiting for.
He could have taken one of his own shuttles. Raven had two of them left, after all, but he couldn’t really argue with a superior officer sending a ship for him. Plus, those shuttles might be needed. The battlecruiser didn’t seem likely to acquire any new trouble in the next few hours, but it might. She’d been battered hard enough.
He was half-expecting Alex Thompson to be aboard the shuttle, so he wasn’t surprised to see a figure at the top of the ramp after the shuttle settled to a stop.
He was not expecting Sylvia Todorovich to walk down the shuttle’s ramp alone, dressed in one of her sharply conservative suits but moving with renewed purpose the moment she saw him—and he hadn’t expected the instant decision that the deck was quiet enough that propriety could be damned.
Before Henry Wong even realized what he was doing, he’d wrapped the Ambassador in a bear hug. He had just enough time to process just how thoroughly he’d broken every rule of military-civilian decorum before Sylvia’s arms wrapped around him in turn.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he murmured.
“I thought I’d lost you,” she told him, leaning her head back to study his eyes for a seemingly eternal second. Then her fingers were on his chin and she was leaning in.
Henry was reasonably sure he was blushing like a teenager when he finally came up for air and looked around. The GroundDiv troopers and the scattering of techs in Raven’s shuttlebay had apparently found something spectacularly interesting on the wall opposite.
“I’m supposed to report aboard Scorpius,” he admitted. He hadn’t let go of her. She hadn’t let go of him. His escort was still studying the wall.
“I know. I just hitched a ride on the shuttle,” she told him. “Thompson is also aboard, but he thought he’d give us a moment.”
Henry coughed. He was pretty sure he was flushing harder now—but Sylvia was clearly not letting him go.
“Everyone seems to think we should have that moment,” she whispered in his ear. “But I think we should continue this…conversation later. In private.”
“We’ve got work to do,” Henry agreed. He slowly, reluctantly, released her. A moment later, she let him go.
“Somehow, I don’t really want to do the work today,” she said with a wicked spark in her smile. “But you’re right. Let’s let poor Commander Thompson off the shuttle and get aboard ourselves.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
There was, in Henry’s mind, no subtlety about the way he and Sylvia arriv
ed at the meeting. If any of the UPSF officers in the conference room thought it strange that the ambassador had flown over to Raven to fly right back and enter the meeting side by side with the battlecruiser captain, though…they didn’t show it.
Henry very carefully did not meet Peter Barrie’s gaze as he took a seat across from Admiral Cheung. Another man and woman in identical uniforms to his, the Colonels commanding Cheung’s two battlecruisers, sat at either end of the table.
It was one of the carrier’s midsized meeting rooms and would have been easily capable of handling the negotiations that had taken place aboard Carpenter. Right now, though, it had three Colonels, a Commodore, a Rear Admiral and the UPA Ambassador.
“I thought we were meeting with Aval and Rising Principle,” Henry asked.
“We will,” Sylvia told him. “This is a preliminary meeting for us to all get on the same page.” She turned her attention to the Admiral at the head of the table.
“As I understand, Rear Admiral Cheung, Colonel Wong is not under your command?” she asked.
“That is correct,” Cheung said in English that carried the tones of his home country. “Colonel Wong is the senior ship captain of the Peacekeeper Initiative and reports to Admiral Hamilton. While his ship is the entire Initiative presence here, he does represent an independent command.
“Though I think he and I will agree on what Raven’s next step is,” Cheung admitted. “What is her status, Colonel?”
“Raven is no longer a functioning capital ship,” Henry said quickly, before he could think about it. “Her spine has been broken. She is no longer capable of withstanding subjective thrust, and her primary batteries are offline.
“I do not believe that Zion’s repair yards will suffice to restore her to function. She will require scrapping or a complete rebuild.”
The words hung in the room like the Sword of Damocles—or the end of Henry’s career. He’d commanded one of the UPSF’s most modern starships to an unquestioned defeat and her destruction. Only paranoia on the part of High Command had saved his people.
“Understood,” Cheung replied. “I believe, then, that your next stop is Zion, yes?”
“Yes, ser,” Henry confirmed. “Admiral Hamilton will decide whether I accompany Raven back to more substantial shipyards.”
“If you will permit, Colonel, I would like to detach Rook and two of our destroyers to escort you back to Zion,” the Rear Admiral told him. “It would be a poor reward for the heroism of Raven’s crew to leave them vulnerable.”
“It would be appreciated, ser,” Henry admitted.
“In general, I believe we have no choice but to divide up Battle Group Scorpius,” Sylvia said after that was resolved. “Voice Oran Aval has no transport back to the Hierarchy.
“It will serve everyone’s interests if she is returned to Kozun and the rest of the Voices as safely and as swiftly as possible. I would like to borrow at least one of your destroyers, Admiral, to make certain she makes it home.”
“She agreed to the peace treaty, didn’t she?” Barrie asked.
“She did. The Drifters made an enemy of the most powerful woman in the Hierarchy,” Sylvia told them. “She has already asked the La-Tar Cluster to consider a treaty of mutual defense against the Drifters.
“Both Rising Principle and Aval will need to get authorization from their home governments to continue that particular line of discussion—as will I,” she admitted. “But we will want everyone to make it home safely to make sure the war ends.”
“Then I think we will want to send more than a destroyer to Kozun,” Cheung said. “I believe Jackdaw will make an impression—of both the UPA’s power and of our willingness to protect their Voice. A destroyer companion—Brachiosaur, I think—will make the point in strength.”
“I had intended to ask if I could borrow Jackdaw to deliver Ambassador Rising Principle,” Sylvia admitted.
“Scorpius will be heading to La-Tar with the escorts I am retaining,” Cheung replied firmly. “We can easily transport the ambassador home. To honor our commitment to secure La-Tar’s defense, I feel that the presence of a proper fleet carrier will be needed.”
He grimaced.
“The Drifters have lost their chance to keep us and the Kozun at war. I do not know what their next step will be, but we must be ready to honor our promises.”
“I agree,” Sylvia said. “My understanding was that Battle Group Scorpius was only out here for Operation Yellow Bicycle.”
“That is correct,” the Admiral confirmed. “But since we no longer have an instant communication cycle with High Command, a flag officer must act on their discretion—and like you, Ambassador Todorovich, I am bound by the honor and the promises of the United Planets Alliance.
“To keep those promises and protect La-Tar, my battle group is going to need to stay out here and keep watch.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. “Like Aval and Rising Principle, I need to return home and consult with our government. I believe that there must be consequences for attacking our ambassador, but that is not truly my decision to make.”
“If they come for the Cluster, we will stop them,” Cheung told her.
Henry felt a load leave his shoulders at that promise. He’d left three destroyers at La-Tar. They could probably fight a Guardian for the locals, but if the Drifters sent a real fleet—and even a single Convoy could muster a real fleet—they could never have held.
“I will return to Zion aboard Raven,” Sylvia continued, and Henry tried not to blush like a schoolboy caught plotting. He’d been hoping that she’d be returning with him, but he hadn’t been sure it was the best plan.
“We wanted to avoid entanglements outside our borders,” she noted. “We wanted to secure peace with the minimum possible level of force and resources. I now don’t believe that will be possible—but we also now have proof of the economic value of opening up these markets to UPA trade.
“We have made promises out here, promises that the Initiative alone cannot keep. For the honor of the UPA, we must act as one nation with all of our resources.”
“I agree,” Admiral Cheung said. “We will hold the line while you convince the Security Council. I hope your return trip is fruitful.”
Sylvia nodded, her gaze meeting Henry’s across the table.
“We’ll be fine, I think,” she said. “I just hope…that Blue Stripe Green Stripe Orange Stripe was working in isolation. If anyone had the ability to gather allies over the last year, it was the Drifters. The Convoy is a dangerous-enough threat on its own.
“If their arming and manipulation of the Kozun is representative, though…we could be seeing the birth of a new foe, potentially more focused on our direct defeat than the Kenmiri ever were.”
“We will be ready,” Henry promised, looking around at the other senior officers in the conference room. “I have solid guesses what the Drifters wanted out of wrecking the peace conference, but they’re only guesses.”
He smiled thinly.
“Unless there’s something in play I didn’t see, they’re going to realize the risk was never worth what they stood to gain.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Zion again. The seemingly delicate structures of Base Fallout stretched out as far as the eye could process and beyond. A corner of Henry’s vision was occupied by a video feed of a camera above Raven, watching the repair base’s teams swarm over the bent cruiser.
He knew what their conclusion would be. Song had left him in no doubt about the state of his command.
“Get in here, Wong,” Hamilton’s voice barked.
Flinching slightly, Henry stepped forward through the door to his boss’s office. The last week of traveling with Sylvia aboard Raven had proven a surprisingly effective balm to his mental and emotional wounds, but this was the end point. This was where he learned what was going to happen to him.
He instinctively crossed to stand in front of Admiral Sonia Hamilton’s desk and came to a crisp attention.
> “When, Henry, have I ever wanted that mickey mouse bullshit?” she demanded. “Sit down.”
He sat.
“Yard is still surveying Raven,” Hamilton told him, the gray-haired and steely-eyed Admiral studying him. “You know what they’re going to find, though.”
“It’ll be cheaper to rebuild her than build an entire new battlecruiser, but not by much,” Henry said. “She needs a year—maybe more—in a major yard, like the one that built her.”
“I saw Song’s report, yes,” the Admiral confirmed. “She and I will be speaking shortly. She’ll take command of Raven’s passage crew and deliver her and Ambassador Todorovich to Sol.”
Hamilton shrugged.
“There’s a Colonel’s billet and a mobile dry dock waiting for her there, anyway,” she noted. “You weren’t going to keep Song any longer, I’m afraid. She’ll get her steel leaf before she leaves Zion, though.”
“That’s good, ser,” Henry said. “She deserves it, even if she isn’t a line officer.”
Even Colonel Anna Song, with a steel oak leaf instead of a copper one on her collar, could never command a battlecruiser. A mobile dry dock, though, that was a fitting command for a UPSF engineering Colonel. They didn’t have many of them, either, so that was one hell of a cookie.
“Promotion board sat while you were gone,” Hamilton told him. “No news, I imagine, that you were going to lose a lot of your senior officers anyway. Iyotake’s another one with a steel leaf waiting for him, though finding him a command is going to be a pain now.”
“Ser?”
“He was supposed to get Raven,” the Admiral noted. “Since she’s going in for repairs, that won’t happen.”
Hamilton shook her head.
“You weren’t staying on Raven any more than Song was,” she noted. “Sadly, Raven’s loss doesn’t change my plans for you at all. Or Commander Ihejirika, for that matter.”
“I’m confused, ser,” Henry admitted.
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