by TR Cameron
Kate replied, “My mother said something similar. She says that all of her career choices were to build influence. I didn’t get the impression that she saw her primary role as protecting her crew, either.”
“I’ve always believed that leadership meant not asking anyone to do something you wouldn’t do yourself. That, and being open and honest with everyone at all times. Transparency. Leading by example. That concept went hand-in-hand with the idea of preserving one’s people as the most important thing. But now?” He shook his head as he answered his own question, “I don’t think so.”
“That must be a very jarring realization,” Kate pointed out.
“It really is. Are you saying that it isn’t the same for you?”
“To be honest, Cross, I’ve never really had to face it. My role as second-in-command has never put me in a position where I needed to be anything other than transparent. And you know I prefer leading from the front, just like you do.”
“Are you considering a transfer to the Marines?”
Laughter escaped from Kate. “Not a chance, although the toys are a lot of fun. I will say that fighting on a person-to-person level seems somehow fairer than what we do in the command chair.”
Cross stood and fell forward onto the bed next to her. As he spoke, he toyed with her hair, which radiated in all directions like a halo. “Okoye once told me that you use any tool at your disposal for the benefit of your crew. I apparently filtered that through the priority of protecting them. But maybe he meant that because you risk them, and may have to sacrifice them, it’s your job to make things as good for them as you can, while you can.”
Kate rolled her head over to look up at him. “That makes sense. How does it change what you do from day to day? What we do from day to day?”
Cross gave a shrug. “We both already make treating the crew well a priority. In practical terms that should stay the same. But knowing the potential for sacrifice, it seems like we should plan more for eventualities and try to increase their ability to survive the conflicts that we’ll throw them into. That sort of thing.”
“I agree. But it’s got to be more than that, doesn’t it? You need to change the way you think, how you react to events.”
He gave her a sly look. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? Fine, I need to become better at following orders.”
Kate laughed again. “I can only imagine how proud Captain Okoye would be to hear those words, Cross.”
He shook his head, sending hair flopping down over his face. “I don’t think anyone, including you, has any idea how hard that will be for me.”
Kate punched him in the shoulder, motivating him to flop over on his back. “Cross, if there’s one person in the universe who knows exactly how difficult following orders is for you, it’s me. Now get out. I need some sleep.”
Cross laughed and stood to go. He turned to Kate at the door and said, “I need you to watch me, Red. Help me make sure my decisions are coming from the right place. Not to contradict me when things are hot, but to review with me afterward and analyze my choices.”
“You know I’ve always had your back, Ace. I always will.”
“Sleep well, Kate. You know, if you’re restless and need a distraction—”
“Anderson Cross, I mean this in the nicest way possible. Get. Out.”
He got out, and she drew one more laugh from him as he heard the mechanical tone that indicated he was now locked out of her quarters. He headed for his own, planning to sleep while he could. Things had been far too quiet for far too long, considering recent experience.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
While the charred debris had been removed from his former inner sanctum, the space wasn’t yet ready to inhabit and wouldn’t be for many eight-days to come. Kraada Tak was still hard at work in what had been his majordomo’s office. His new majordomo was relegated to one of the small working chambers normally reserved for visiting priests.
He finished his current missive, rolled it, and sealed it with wax and his signet. By the end of the day, commands would be ready for delivery to the religious officers on every ship in the fleet. His recent turn in circumstances, as evidenced by the attempt on his life, required laying in contingency plans ready to activate at a moment’s notice. Because of the import of the messages, he dared not trust them even to his highest attendants.
And, to be honest, he found a certain satisfaction in personally undertaking the actions that would change the entire future of the Xroeshyn people. As he reached for the next sheet of paper, he was interrupted by Thiaa’s entrance. “Hierarch, the marshal is here.”
“Alone?”
“With two bodyguards only, Hierarch.”
Kraada tapped his pen against his teeth for a moment, then ordered a brace of guards to his room. “After a short delay, you may show the marshal in. His escorts will remain outside this office.”
“As you wish, Hierarch.”
Kraada straightened his desk, hiding all traces of his messages. Then he retrieved a decanter and two glasses. As he sat again, his security arrived, and the marshal followed them into the room. “Drovaa, what an unexpected pleasure,” Kraada’s tone was at odds with his words.
“It’s good to see that you so well recovered from the attack, Kraada.” The marshal was in full dress uniform, black on black, with an array of stones on his breast chronicling his successes. Kraada resisted pointing out that he’d overdressed for the visit.
He shrugged. “No particular harm done, Marshal.” Kraada had mostly healed, and wouldn’t show any sign of weakness no matter what. “Have you come just to check up on me?”
“No, Hierarch. I’m here in my official capacity to report no discoveries as to the perpetrators of this heinous attack. They may still be operating. The investigators recommend you increase your own security and refrain from actions that might draw additional unwanted attention.”
Not one for subtext, are you, Jat? Let me show you how it’s done.
“That’s very interesting, Marshal. My people are also investigating the attack upon me, and upon the church itself.” He reached into a side drawer, pulling out a metal case. A touch of his signet ring and a quick tap of a code opened the box, revealing a thick sheaf of reports which he poured out before Drovaa. “It makes for compelling reading. My majordomo will dispatch a copy to you.”
“What have your people discovered?” While the question came in a bland voice, Kraada noted the crack in the confident facade that his foe tried to present. His body language changed from neutral to combative as the marshal leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, with one index finger reaching up to tap on his chin.
“We have evidence that the perpetrators were military.”
“Preposterous. My people wouldn’t act without orders, and I certainly haven’t issued a command to attack the church.”
Interesting wording, my friend.
“Nonetheless, the church was attacked. The weapons used aren’t available to the general populace. Only the emperor’s guards and members of the military could have procured them.”
“Underground market? Smugglers?”
“The evidence suggests that these were properly tracked munitions and technology. Designators are still present, and the materials are in pristine condition. We are tracking them to their sources, but much relevant information appears to have vanished from the databases… which, again, points to an insider.”
Drovaa reached forward and leafed through the pages on the desk. Kraada remained silent, letting him absorb the content. While he waited, he poured two liberal doses of whiskey into the glasses, setting both in front of his guest. After the marshal had chosen, Kraada took the remaining glass and sipped, savoring the pleasant burn. He sighed in appreciation and returned to waiting.
“This seems to be circumstantial evidence, Hierarch. You’ve drawn broad conclusions from minimal data points, but lack an argument that would hold up to any serious opposition.”
Kr
aada shrugged, dismissing the other man’s objections. “Marshal, let me be blunt. If this information finds its way beyond this room, it will not be to an investigative body, court, or the emperor. It will go directly to the people. Imagine for a second the impact upon the military once the populace learns that you have attempted to assassinate the head of their religion.”
Drovaa leaned forward, a furious retort on his lips, but Kraada filled the space before he could speak, “Picture it, every eighth day, from every pulpit, in every church, to every churchgoer. Accusations. Discovery of new intelligence on a regular basis that further impugns you and your forces. How long until you’d face the emperor to account for your actions? How rational would the response to that accounting be?”
Kraada leaned forward, resting an elbow on the desk and pointing at the other man. “Simply put, Marshal, I have reasonable proof that you were involved. Whether you acted alone, or are responsible as leader for the actions of your underlings is immaterial. What evidence I cannot find, I can certainly manufacture. And, before you get clever and consider another assassination attempt, know that I am completely protected now. My death would precede your own by days, at the most.”
Drovaa exhaled, clearly working to master his anger, and delayed speaking to take a long drink from his glass. When he set it down, Kraada refilled it.
“I could give you every assurance that I wasn’t personally behind this attack,” Drovaa said, “but I understand completely why you wouldn’t find it credible, and why it’s no longer relevant to this discussion. The only thing I will say on that matter is that my personal honor would require me to challenge you within the lines, not attempt to take you off the board in such a cowardly manner.”
Kraada nodded, conceding that point. “In fact, I believe that this was a collaborative effort between members of your service and the emperor’s guard. However, the palace hid its involvement well, so all the evidence points to you. I’d be a fool not to use it. You’d do the same in my place.”
“Acknowledged and agreed. Now, since you’ve clearly been waiting for me to appear, what’s your next move?”
“It’s time to change the direction of our invasion.”
Drover shook his head, accompanied by a small laugh. “I knew that before I walked in here, Hierarch. Specifics?”
“Take off the restraints, Marshal. You’ve been very economical with your people and your ships, and in your position, I would’ve done the same. But it has proven slow, unwieldy, and inadequate to our needs.”
“Inadequate to your needs,” Drovaa corrected.
Kraada waved a hand in the air. “My needs, your needs, our needs. Semantics. The gods have tasked us to wipe these aliens from the universe. You’ve been proceeding with a medic’s surgical grace. It’s your way, and it has worked well before. But this situation is different.”
Kraada stood, and paced the room, gesturing for emphasis. “This is our last chance to deliver on the promise of the gods during this cycle. I know this is the correct cycle. I know this is the correct species. And I know, without a doubt, that they must be eradicated within the appointed time. And with each day that passes, lost to us through your timid engagement strategies, we come closer and closer to failure.”
He stopped, leaned on the desk, and looked down at the marshal. “This stops now. The moment for timidity has passed. Henceforth, we attack each of their bases in turn and push them back to their home world. Once they’re gathered there, we will destroy it, and them, and free our ancestors from their long tenure in the in-between.”
“Hierarch,” Drovaa began, only to have Kraada shout him down.
“This. Stops. Now. Marshal. I’m no longer asking. I’m telling. You will make this happen, or I’ll bring you down. In addition, we will not restrain ourselves to only attacking their bases, ships, and military installations. At the bottom of the pile of papers in front of you is a list of the colonies we’ve discovered. When circumstances permit, our forces will wipe their settlements from existence as part of the same inward march toward their eventual destruction.”
Drovaa’s protest died, and a look of disbelief crossed his face. “Are you sure this is wise, Hierarch? There’s no returning from this decision.”
“That’s the difference between us, Marshal. You falsely believe that if we fail in this endeavor, we can continue as before. The Dhadas is clear on this matter: there is no recognizable future for the Xroeshyn people if we do not wipe out these humans. Our civilization will fall. We will return to the darkness and the fear we felt during the great war with the Domeki.”
“Hierarch, the recent attack has scrambled your mind. I urge you to seek counseling from your doctors.”
“Marshal, your opinion is just wasted words. Issue the orders, or your replacement will issue the orders. Either way, this will be done.”
Drovaa stood, knocking over his chair and startling Kraada’s bodyguards, who reached for their sidearms. He pointed at a space directly in between Kraada’s eyes. “Mark me, Kraada. I will give these orders. But I’ll find a path out of this bind, and when I do, we will settle this within the lines.”
“I await your pleasure, Marshal. So may it be.”
“So may it be.”
The bodyguards led Drovaa from the room, and Kraada collapsed back into his chair. Several moments later, his majordomo returned. “The marshal seemed perturbed, Hierarch.”
“Thiaa, have no fear. Everything is going according to plan. Please adjust my schedule to include at least an hour every day of weapons training. I believe we have pushed the marshal beyond the limit that his honor can withstand. Also, have my seneschal create plans to deliver Drovaa Jat to the in-between at short notice. Sometimes the will of the gods must come before personal honor, and it’s their work that we do here. Soon, we’ll be rid of the trespassers and return our focus to the well-being of our people.”
Kraada Tak retrieved his pen and parchment from the desk and began to write. He offered only a nod to his majordomo’s departing, “So may it be.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Squadron-Captain Indraat Vray reclined in the command chair of the Ruby Rain, her eyes roaming the bridge stations but consistently returning to the representation of her squadron on the main display. Eight ships, a significant advance in the military hierarchy. She was confident it was the first of many promotions.
“Squadron status, second?”
“All ships report ready for descent, Squadron-Captain. Designated ships have rearmed from torpedoes to mines.”
“Excellent. Message to all ships: Begin descent countdown. Message to Captain, Jade Breeze: First priority is defense of Ruby Rain. Second priority, defense of Jade Breeze. Third priority, destruction of enemy air or space forces.”
“Sent, Squadron-Captain.” Her fourth in command operated the communication station and had long since demonstrated her proficiency at those tasks. The majority of Indraat’s officers were ready for advancement, but until an opening was created or new vessels were commissioned, they’d remain in their current ranks and roles. It amused Indraat to know that every one of them would like to take the command chair away from her, but none of them had enough courage to make an attempt.
At the appointed time, six of the squadron’s ships split off in different directions, entering the upper atmosphere and distributing mines along radial lines across the planet. The Ruby Rain and the Jade Breeze descended in long arcs toward the human colony.
She’d rejoiced in the orders when they appeared. Despite being issued by Marshal Drovaa Jat, she knew her uncle was behind the command. Kraada had warned her to be ready in a personal message delivered by one of his many underlings.
The main display showed the glowing edge as the Ruby Rain cut through the atmosphere, and Indraat could feel the buffeting transition from spaceflight to atmospheric flight. Her ship was a bit large for an atmospheric craft, and a tad small for a space craft. The ability to enforce her will in both venues was well worth the s
acrifice of size in one.
As many of her opponents had learned to their detriment, smaller things—whether people or ships— could still pack a devastating punch.
Thrusters fired, and the ship settled gently to the ground, landing with a slight bump. “Nice flying, First.”
“Thank you, Squadron-Captain.”
Indraat unbuckled and stood. “First, Second, you’re with me. Fourth, have the Jade Breeze send three, including the captain.” Without waiting for acknowledgment, she strode from the bridge. She suppressed a smile at the sound of her crew hurrying to catch up with her. A stop in the armory resulted in each of them carrying both energy and projectile weapons. Her subordinates wore their pistols strapped to each thigh, but Indraat required a custom pistol rig to avoid blocking the draw of the knives she wore in those locations. Her guns rested at the small of her back, hidden underneath her wings and angled for quick extraction.
She’d always choose her blades first, but it would be foolish to enter battle without all options available to her.
They climbed to the lowest deck, where a hatch deployed from the cargo bay, allowing them to walk out onto the grassy soil of the planet. The Jade Breeze had landed nearby. The three crew members from that ship quickly joined her troops. Through hand gestures, Indraat ordered them all into a semi-circle, half to each side of her. This made her the focal point of the group while still keeping everyone within her line of sight. It was possible at any time that one of them could make a bold attempt to take her command and her life. Honor would require such a move to happen within the lines, but Indraat had learned long ago that honor was a slippery concept for some beings. In the universe, she trusted only her uncle and her birth parents. Her siblings were also in the military, with ranks junior to hers, and thus they no longer held her trust.