“You put Damien on the list, did you?” Mage-Admiral Alexander asked. “That’s a good call, Kiera. We need that extra certainty. God alone knows how much time is left to me.”
“Enough, we hope,” Damien replied. “If nothing else, if Chrysanthemum is in the shape you think it is, I agree that we need to move. Second Fleet should be fully resupplied. Admiral Marangoz will surrender command to you; I don’t think we need to worry about that.”
“How’d he do as fleet CO?” Jane Alexander said. “I know he rubs some of my officers the wrong way.” She snorted. “I’d have given command to Medici.”
“That was my inclination, but I’m biased in Medici’s favor,” Damien noted. Medici had saved his life once—and Kelly LaMonte’s, for that matter. The man had commanded the cruiser squadron that had saved the freighter Blue Jay from the pirates that had hunted her down to capture a Rune Wright.
“So, you decided against him because you know you’re biased?” Jane Alexander asked, shaking her head. “Sometimes, my dear friend, I think you are perhaps too determined to only do the right thing.”
“There is no such thing,” he replied. He smiled and shook his head. “Your mission remains what it always was, Jane: reduce the Republic by whatever means necessary. Do we need to give specific orders?”
“No,” she told him. “Inform Protectorate High Command that Second Fleet will be moving as soon as physically possible. We will proceed to the Chrysanthemum System and we will reduce whatever remains of the Republic fleet.
“And if we are only moderately lucky, we will finally end this fucking war.”
50
Roslyn Chambers was nervous as she approached the primary conference room on Durendal. The space was designed to hold hundreds of officers, and she was almost always aware of meetings taking place in it well ahead of time—as the Admiral’s Flag Lieutenant, she was one of the only people with the ability to even book meetings and presentations in the space.
The event she was attending had appeared on her schedule overnight, requiring her to be in the conference room at oh nine hundred hours. There were no further details of the event, though a quick check had shown that Admiral Alexander’s schedule was also blocked off for it.
They’d been back in Second Fleet for three days and were only a handful of jumps, less than a day’s travel, from Chrysanthemum. Those three days had been a whirlwind of activity of meetings and calls and virtual conferences, all coordinated by Roslyn Chambers and Indrajit Kulkarni with the ease of long practice.
It was all normal enough to restore some of her calm and balance, but this appointment was weird enough to throw her completely off her step. She had no idea what was going on—and she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of two of Durendal’s Marines standing on either side of the door to the conference room…in full dress uniform.
“Mage-Lieutenant, hurry up,” the Sergeant on the right told her. “Everyone is waiting.”
“Everyone?” Roslyn realized she’d squeaked, and the two Marines chuckled.
“Go on,” the Sergeant repeated, reaching over to hover their hand above the door panel. “It’s safe; I can promise you that.”
The other Marine chuckled again at that comment, but it was surprisingly reassuring to Roslyn. No matter what, she was still going to trust the Marines.
She stepped into the amphitheater-style room and swallowed. Everyone definitely seemed to sum it up. There were at least a dozen flag officers in the room—and just how the hell had whoever had organized this got a dozen flag officers onto Durendal without her knowing?!—as well as an equal number of senior Captains and what looked like ten percent of the dreadnought’s crew.
All of them were looking at her. There was a clear path down the steps to the main stage, whose only occupant was Mage-Admiral Jane Alexander, the old officer standing straight-backed but smiling as she made a small gesture for Roslyn to approach.
Roslyn obeyed the gesture, walking in stunned silence under the eyes of hundreds of her fellows. She stepped onto the dais and came to attention, saluting her boss.
“Admiral.”
“Kneel, Mage-Lieutenant Roslyn Chambers,” Alexander ordered.
Swallowing hard, Roslyn obeyed. There was just the two of them on the stage, and Roslyn realized the recording equipment was active as well. Off to one side she could see Mage-Captain Kulkarni—and the operations officer’s grin told her exactly who had organized all of this around her.
“Officers and Spacers of the Royal Martian Navy and the Royal Martian Marine Corps,” Alexander said loudly and clearly. “There are many duties, responsibilities and tasks laid upon us all. To serve faithfully and truly. To master the tasks before us. To wield our skills justly and well. For those of us with magic, to master our Gift instead of be mastered by it—and to wield our power in the service of all mankind.
“Tradition and treaty lay further responsibilities on prisoners of war. To remain silent in face of interrogation. To learn what we can about the enemy. To escape, if possible. These duties are regarded as ideals as much as true tasks, especially in a modern era where prisons can strip even the most powerful of Mages of their power.”
The room was silent except for Alexander’s words, and Roslyn shivered under the attention of those hundreds of eyes.
“When captured in a covert operation by the Republic of Faith and Reason, Mage-Lieutenant Roslyn Chambers lived up to all of those duties,” the Admiral said. “She resisted interrogation and attempts at co-option. She learned enough about her enemies to engineer her own escape despite being trapped inside a guarded cell that negated her magic.
“All of this, perhaps, we would regard as the duty of an officer in Her Majesty’s Navy.”
Alexander paused, letting that sink in to her audience.
“But. From there, Mage-Lieutenant Chambers proceeded to rescue myself from similar imprisonment and steal an enemy shuttle, taking us both to safety. When we discovered that the Republic had found a means to block my power as scion of Mars, she found a way to undo that block—allowing me to engage the Republic Fleet.
“Her actions led directly to the destruction of the second Republic antimatter accelerator ring, the crippling of a major Republic Interstellar Navy combat formation, and to Second Fleet learning the location of the enemy continuity-of-government facility. They also led, quite directly, to my own freedom.”
Roslyn was still kneeling. She was reasonably sure of what was going on now, though she wished someone had warned her that there was going to be a ceremony to go along with the medal she figured she was going to get.
“While we hope that no officer or spacer of the Navy has to face an entire battle station with nothing but their wits, we can all hope that we would rise to the challenge as you did,” Alexander told her. “My own involvement in the situation was such that I felt it wasn’t my place to decide on your rewards, Mage-Lieutenant.
“One half of your reward was decided by a panel of your superiors, twelve Admirals and Commodores of this fleet who are present today. The other was decided directly by Her Majesty, Mage-Queen Kiera Alexander.
“It is in Her name that I act today. Bow your head, Mage-Lieutenant,” Alexander instructed.
Roslyn obeyed.
“In the name of the Mage-Queen of Mars, Kiera Alexander, the fourth monarch of our Protectorate, I bestow upon you, Mage-Lieutenant Roslyn Chambers, the Royal Martian Medal of Valor.”
The gold star with its carved ruby planet dropped around Roslyn’s neck before she could even process. The Medal of Valor?! She knew she’d gone above and beyond, but the Medal of Valor?
The room exploded in applause as Roslyn knelt there in stunned silence, but Alexander waved them all to silence.
“Any senior officer here could do the rest,” she said loudly to a chorus of chuckles. “But I don’t think anyone will begrudge me this. Take this, Chambers.”
Roslyn’s head was swimming and she was still kneeling as she took the jeweler’s
box. She recognized it. She knew what it had to be before she even opened it.
“I checked the records,” the Mage-Admiral told her. “You are the second-youngest officer ever promoted to the rank of Mage-Lieutenant-Commander in the Royal Martian Navy.” She paused thoughtfully. “Well, discounting posthumous promotions, which seemed like a good call.”
Roslyn removed her Lieutenant’s bar in a stunned fugue, slowly fumbling with the new paired bars until Alexander chuckled and took them away from her. The Admiral pinned the new bars to Roslyn’s collar with a quick, practiced hand and then lifted the young woman to her feet.
“Officers, Spacers and Marines, I give you the latest holder of the Royal Martian Medal of Valor: Mage-Lieutenant-Commander Roslyn Chambers!”
This time, no one attempted to calm the applause.
51
Mage-Lieutenant-Commander Roslyn Chambers expected to be transferred to a new role sooner rather than later, but for the moment, she remained Mage-Admiral Alexander’s Flag Lieutenant, which meant her place was on Durendal’s flag bridge as Second Fleet erupted into the Chrysanthemum System.
There were no games or maneuvers today. Three dreadnoughts led six battleships, twenty-six cruisers and fifty-two destroyers into the system in a single massive bloc of firepower. All eighty-seven ships accelerated toward Hyacinth at fifteen gravities while their sensors swept up every scrap of data they could find.
“The wreckage of the accelerator ring has been stabilized,” Kulkarni reported. “It looks like they could trigger a separation of the segments, so they split it into two sections and pushed them into orbits.”
She shook her head.
“Fixing that looks like it’s going to be a nightmare,” she admitted.
“If they let us, we’ll help them,” Alexander said brightly. “If they don’t, well, they built it in five years. I guess they can fix it.”
“Even with transmuter Mages, there might be value for those rings if we can build them in five years instead of forty,” Kulkarni noted.
“If I understand what I was told correctly, they basically took complete control of Chrysanthemum’s economy to pull it off,” Roslyn told the operations officer. “I don’t think anyone else is going to manage it—but then, the value I can see is in building a ring around an inhabited world as an industrial platform.”
“That’s about what I was thinking, I have to admit,” her superior agreed. “Still a massive project but not a half-million-kilometer project.”
“All of this is germane to future matters, but what kind of defenses have they mustered?” Alexander asked.
“It looks like they’ve reinforced from what you left behind, sir,” Kulkarni reported. “They’re back up to what looks like seven carriers, fifteen battleships and forty cruisers. That’s…something like eighty or ninety percent of what we figure they’ve got left.”
“They sent out the call the same time we did, but they have instantaneous communications,” Roslyn concluded. “They figured we’d come here with everything and, well. Without an antimatter supply, their only hope is to knock out Second Fleet.”
“Not much of a hope,” Alexander replied. “Are they maneuvering?”
“Yes, sir,” Kulkarni confirmed. “Range is just under one light-minute and they have seen us. They are adjusting their positions to put the fleet between us and the stations above Hyacinth.”
“But not coming out to meet us?” the Admiral asked.
“Not yet, sir. Any change to our orders?”
“No. Proceed as per the operation plan. Let me know the moment they’ve launched their gunships.”
“There are about two hundred in space and forming up on the fleet, but they haven’t launched anything new,” the operations officer reported. “Analysis is expecting two thousand from the carriers and a similar number from defensive platforms.”
“Understood. Advise when we see gunship launches,” Alexander repeated.
Thirty minutes passed. Forty. An hour—one in which Second Fleet continued to accelerate toward Hyacinth, their sensors drinking deep at the well of light and radiation to learn as much about their enemies as they could.
“Still no gunships,” Alexander murmured. “ETA to Samurai range?”
“One hundred seventy-three minutes,” Kulkarni reported. “Fifty-five minutes after turnover.”
“Hmm.”
Alexander’s wordless noise echoed in the bridge as the fleet hurtled toward the battle that would end the war, one way or another.
“Your assessment, Mage-Captain?” she finally asked.
“They’re holding the gunships back to rest the crews and preserve fuel,” Kulkarni replied instantly. “They’re operating inside a hard limit on antimatter availability. They don’t want to give up the advantage of having AM engines on the gunships, but their production without a full-scale accelerator ring isn’t up to the demands of a war.”
“Even if they win today, they lose the war,” Alexander said aloud. “We can court a long-range engagement, force them to expend missiles and antimatter, and come back next week. Then the week after. And the week after.
“They can’t win this.”
“But they can hurt us and hurt us badly,” the operations officer replied. “If they’ve got six thousand gunships over there instead of four—or eight, or ten—they can still hit this fleet with enough missiles to end us.”
“We have to allow for that possibility, yes,” Alexander agreed. “Fleet will adjust course,” she ordered. “We will commence deceleration early to bring us to zero velocity at maximum Samurai range.
“Let’s see what they do.”
A light flashed on Roslyn’s console, and she blinked as she stared at it for a moment.
“Sir, we’re receiving a recorded transmission from Hyacinth,” she reported. “It looks like it’s coming from Styx Station.”
“Interesting. Isolate it from the main systems and play it, Lieutenant-Commander,” Alexander ordered. “Let’s see what the Lord Protector has to say for himself.”
The message had already gone into an isolated buffer to keep it away from the dreadnought’s computers. It ran through a series of scanners into a separate buffer that allowed Roslyn to play it on a screen in the flag deck.
The woman who appeared on the screen was not Lord Protector George Solace. She was older than he was, with long pure-white hair that hung to her shoulders with a flow and elegance many younger women would kill for.
The stranger wore a black skirt-suit and stood behind a transparent podium marked with the stylized hammer and cross of the Republic of Faith and Reason. She was in some kind of briefing room, though if there was anyone else in the room they were out of the camera’s view.
“I am Melissa Stormgast,” she greeted them. “I am the duly appointed Speaker of the Assembly of the Republic of Faith and Reason. Under the Constitution of the Republic, I am third in the line of succession…which, today, makes me Acting President of the Republic.
“Vice President James Connors was killed resisting arrest three days ago. President George Solace, the Lord Protector of the Republic, has been impeached and arrested.”
Stormgast was silent for several seconds.
“While I won’t pretend that we would have moved if the result of the war had not become clear, I will also not pretend ignorance of Solace’s crimes. We were ignorant, once, but we bought into his propaganda because we chose to.
“We no longer choose to, and Lord Protector Solace is on suicide watch to make certain that he lives to stand trial for grand crimes against humanity.”
Durendal’s flag bridge was silent. Roslyn felt like the entire ship was silent as they waited for the words that they hoped Stormgast would say, the words she had to say, given how she’d begun.
“I am charged, Admiral Alexander, by the surviving Members of the Republic Assembly, to negotiate the terms for the surrender of the remaining forces and worlds of the Republic of Faith and Reason.”
Thank you so much for reading The Service of Mars. The story will continue in A Darker Magic, due out 2021. For all the Glynn Stewart news, announcements, and more, join the mailing list at GlynnStewart.com/mailing-list
Read on for a preview of The Terran Privateer, book 1 in the Duchy of Terra series, or click to check it out in the Amazon store.
If you haven’t already, check out the Starship’s Mage: Red Falcon series, starting with Interstellar Mage, featuring David Rice and crew.
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Preview: The Terran Privateer by Glynn Stewart
Enjoyed The Service of Mars? While waiting for A Darker Magic, why not try the alien invasion space opera series Duchy of Terra, starting with The Terran Privateer, available now!
Earth is conquered.
Sol is lost.
One ship is tasked to free them.
One Captain to save them all.
When an alien armada destroys the United Earth Space Force and takes control of the human homeworld, newly reinstated Captain Annette Bond must take her experimental hyperspace cruiser Tornado into exile as Terra's only interstellar privateer.
She has inferior technology, crude maps and no concept of her enemy, but the seedy underbelly of galactic society welcomes her so long as she has prizes to sell and money to spend.
But when your only allies are pirates and slavers, things are never as they seem and if you become all that you were sworn to destroy, what are you fighting for?
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