Darkness Beyond (Light of Terra: a Duchy of Terra series Book 1)

by Glynn Stewart

  And the first ship of that class was now the flagship of the Duchy of Terra Militia.

  “You realize you don’t get to command this deployment yourself, right?” she told Kurzman bluntly as she let him go. Before he could respond, she embraced Kurzman’s husband, General Arthur Wellesley.

  The men were a study in contrast. Wellesley was a product of both the British nobility and the Special Space Service, the elite troopers who had served the United Earth Space Force as boarding soldiers. He was tall and slim and, even with gray beginning to sneak into his hair and neatly trimmed beard, made for perfect recruiting-poster material.

  Pat Kurzman was a product of Manchester’s industrial districts, a broad-shouldered man gone gray far before his time. He remained well muscled and physically fit, but he’d gained extra pounds around the edges with age.

  Not that his husband seemed to care. The two traded looks as Annette let Wellesley go and then met her gaze calmly.

  “I know,” Kurzman allowed. “But Vindication was my flagship, so I figured I’d come along and see Tidikat off.”

  Annette blinked.

  “Tidikat?” she asked, making sure. Vice Admiral Tidikat was the senior officer of the Laian exiles, Orentel’s mate. He was also the only nonhuman flag officer in her Militia, though there were other Laians working their way up the ranks.

  “Rolfson is already out there, Amandine is holding down Alpha Centauri, and you’d have my husband chain me to a wall if I tried to command the deployment myself,” Kurzman said with a chuckle as he listed off the other Vice Admirals. “I’m keeping Van der Merwe here in case I go senile and you need someone to back me up, so that leaves Tidikat.”

  Four capital ship squadrons called for four Vice Admirals, and that was all the Duchy had. Annette had assumed Kurzman would send Vice Admiral Patience Van der Merwe, but Tidikat also made sense.

  “It’s your call,” she assured him. “What are we giving him?”

  “He commands First Squadron,” Kurzman reminded her. “Didn’t see a reason to change that; just need to get my staff off before he leaves the system with Vindication. Conveniently, someone else brought Tornado along.”

  Annette chuckled.

  “No one is letting me leave Sol anymore,” she pointed out. “Certainly not to go to war, anyway!”

  She didn’t entirely approve of the ridiculous degree of overprotectiveness her entire Duchy seemed to take toward her, but she could understand it. And live with it. Leah Bond was fifteen. In a best-case scenario, she’d be into her second century before she took over from her mother.

  In a worst-case scenario, Annette would still prefer that Leah was at least twenty before she had to run a planet.

  “That’s what you have us for,” Wellesley confirmed, the General smiling calmly at her.

  “You don’t get to leave the system either, General,” she told him. “I may not let you run my personal guard anymore, but I still feel more comfortable knowing you’re watching my back.”

  Wellesley took a very obvious glance past her into the space shuttle behind her, currently occupied only by four of his power-armored Ducal Guards.

  “Looks okay right now,” he told her. “But we should get moving. It’s not that long a flight to Jupiter these days.”

  Covering for all of the traffic that needed to go to Jupiter had proven more of a concern than Annette had originally anticipated. The first shipments and the station itself had jumped into hyperspace near Earth and then emerged near the gas giant and disappeared.

  As Sol had become more industrialized, however, there was enough civilian shipping of various sorts throughout the system to make ships emerging from hyperspace at Jupiter visible. A Militia observation post had covered things for a little while, but that hadn’t been enough.

  To help make the area closed to civilian traffic, the observation post had added a cloudscoop. Then a zero-gee training facility. Then a Guard training facility on the surface of Ganymede, which had rapidly transitioned into a joint Guard-Marine training facility.

  The Jupiter planetary system was now a military reservation, the rings and moons forming the gravitational anchor for a dozen different facilities necessary to the functioning of a star system’s armed forces. There was even a small secondary shipyard, which had officially built almost four times as many ships as its pair of capital ship slips could have produced—the yard making a good cover for ships built at DragonWorks itself.

  The presence of the entire First Squadron of the Duchy of Terra Militia was unusual, but every one of the Vindication-class ships that made up Tidikat’s command had been there before.

  “We have confirmed the no-fly zone is clear,” the human operations officer on Vindication’s flag bridge reported. “There are no prying eyes within the planetary system, and we have cleared the emergence zone.”

  “Understood,” Tidikat replied, his translator running a smooth baritone over his own chittering voice. “Inform Jupiter Control we have confirmed clearance. Fleet Lord Tanaka should be able to move out.”

  Annette kept her hands calmly behind her back as she stood next to Admiral Kurzman and watched Tidikat work. She didn’t need to be there. Neither did Kurzman or Wellesley, and yet…

  They had yet to do anything that risked revealing the existence of DragonWorks quite this badly. With dead worlds and dead innocents, however, secrecy was a far lower priority.

  “Tanaka confirms,” a communications officer reported brightly. “Seventy-Seventh Fleet is commencing exit operations.”

  Even interface-drive ships couldn’t move through a gas giant’s atmosphere at any significant speed. The trip from DragonWorks’ bubble, some two thousand kilometers below the Red Spot, to the surface took Tanaka’s ships almost five minutes.

  There was no warning from any of the sensor officers, though Annette suspected their scanners did show the ships coming. One moment, the Red Spot continued to roil along as the storm had done for a thousand years.

  The next, the massive form of an A!Tol super-battleship emerged from it. And then another one. And another.

  A stream of massive warships emerged slowly and carefully from Jupiter’s atmosphere, Vindication-class ships leading the way. Glorious-class ships, the old top of the line, followed. Two full squadrons of Imperial super-battleships, thirty-two ships in all, emerged from the spot.

  And then their escorts followed, smoothly moving up to quadruple the number of cruisers and destroyers attached to the joint fleet.

  “Fleet Lord Tanaka, this is Vice Admiral Tidikat,” Annette’s Laian subordinate greeted the Imperial officer. “First Squadron has been seconded to your command. We await your orders.”

  A holographic image of the delicately featured Japanese woman appeared in the flag bridge’s main holotank, a small smile playing around her face.

  “It’s good to be back in open space with a fleet again,” Tanaka admitted. “I acknowledge command of the Duchy of Terra’s First Squadron, Vice Admiral. My operations people will get you your slot in formation; we’ll be moving out immediately.”

  The Fleet Lord turned her attention to Annette and her companions.

  “Duchess, Admiral, General,” she said with a nod. “You have my word. We will find the bastards responsible for these atrocities and we will bring them to justice with fire and sword. That is the Empress’s order…and it is my word.”

  “I know,” Annette told her. “I have faith in your sword arm, Fleet Lord Harriet Tanaka. We’ll keep the lights burning while you’re gone.”

  “You’d better,” Tanaka replied firmly. “I saw Tornado hanging out with First Squadron; I’m guessing she’s your ride home?”

  “As always,” the Duchess confirmed.

  Tornado had been Earth’s first hyperspace-capable warship; the starship Annette had taken into exile as a privateer and the key to how all of this had begun. Originally an experimental test-bed, her modular design had lent itself well to upgrades, so the cruiser remained Annette’s pers
onal transport even as a revolution in weapons systems quietly swept the Imperium.

  “Then I suggest you transship, Your Grace. The sooner the Seventy-Seventh is on our way, the sooner we can end this nightmare.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Xīn Táiwān—New Taiwan in English—was the newest colony under the authority of the TDC. There was, Harold understood, one newer colony in the Imperium, a Frole world some sixty light-years spinward, but Xīn Táiwān was the newest human world.

  Once Harold had the Governor on a holographic communication, the young-looking man looked absolutely terrified at the presence of a full task force in orbit.

  “I am Governor Hymie MacChruim,” the dark-skinned and red-haired official introduced himself. “I’m…not sure why your fleet is here, Vice Admiral. We don’t generally see warships at all here in Xīn Táiwān.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to have an Imperial picket?” Harold asked. “We’ve seen multiple colonies come under attack from an unknown force and are investigating.”

  “We’re supposed to receive an Imperial picket, yes,” MacChruim replied. “Eventually. Right now, though, we don’t even have the infrastructure to keep a destroyer in orbit supplied, so we are left to ourselves.”

  The Militia Admiral sighed.

  MacChruim wasn’t paying attention, though.

  “What do you mean, colonies have come under attack?” he demanded. “We don’t have a reliable link into the hyperfold relay network or a starcom receiver. We’re out of touch.”

  “Powell and Lelldorin have been destroyed,” Harold told him flatly. “I’m waiting on Imperial reinforcements to rendezvous with me here. We don’t need resupply, but if there’s somewhere I can send crews for shore leave…say, well away from the settlements, it would be appreciated.”

  Harold trusted his people, but his fleet had almost fifty thousand people aboard. There were only about fifty thousand people on Xīn Táiwān. Shore leave was, by necessity, something to be done on nice beaches a long way away from the locals.

  “We have very little in terms of amenities, but if you can bring them with you, I think my staff can recommend a beach or two,” MacChruim said slowly. “Are we in danger, Admiral?”

  “Frankly? I don’t know,” Harold admitted. “You and Asimov are the next-closest colonies, and Asimov is quite secure. I intend to remain here until Imperial forces arrive, which should take a week or so.”

  “Depending on the currents, aber sicher,” the Governor agreed. He shook his head. “We will provide what assistance we can, Admiral, but…understand that we are a very young colony.” He smiled. “Which means, for example, that I need to go shovel out my cattle barn this afternoon. Myself.”

  Harold laughed.

  “I promise you, Governor MacChruim, we will keep you and your cattle safe!”

  “Shore leave? With everything going on right now?” Xun Huang asked as Harold’s staff gathered in the conference room. “That seems…a strange choice.”

  “That, Commander, is because I have ulterior motives,” Harold told his communications officer. “Surgeon-Commander Tran, how many of our doctors are qualified to do psychiatric assessment and counselling?”

  Dieu Tran was used to going almost unnoticed in staff meetings, and the Vietnamese woman started at being called upon, before narrowing her eyes thoughtfully as she pulled on a long black ponytail.

  “Every one of our doctors is qualified to do assessment and at least basic counseling,” she noted. “We only have about fifteen fully qualified psychiatrists, though. We’ve been keeping our medical staff busy in the aftermath of Powell and Lelldorin.”

  “You have,” Harold agreed. “And we’ve assessed less than ten percent of our crews.” He leveled his gaze on his people. “Our people have arrived too late to the massacre twice now. That…grinds on the soul.

  “We know what’s being done about it, what we’re planning, how we’re preparing to hammer those responsible. Only a tiny portion of our crews can say that.

  “So, the first people we’re dropping on that beach are going to be our doctors and they’re going to get set up before anyone else arrives,” he instructed. “We’re going to cycle as many of our crew through at least a single day’s shore leave as we can—and every person who goes down to the surface talks to a counselor.”

  Tran nodded thoughtfully.

  “We need it,” she said calmly. “It’s hard on the doctors as well, but I’m guessing that they’ll be on the surface the entire time?”

  “They’ll be spending their days treating everyone we can spare, but they’ll get a few hours of beach relaxation in themselves, I hope,” Harold confirmed. “I know what I’m asking of them, but I hope they’ll understand.”

  “They will,” his chief medical officer said flatly. “And if any of them don’t get it, I will educate them. It’s a good plan.”

  “We’ve got between six and ten days before Fleet Lord Tanaka arrives,” Harold reminded his staff. “We need to make as much use of that time as we can. Starting a war is above my pay grade…but it most explicitly is not above Lord Tanaka’s!

  “We’ll cycle ten percent of the crews down to the surface each day. They get one day and one night on a beach that is, apparently, free of bugs that like to eat humans. We’ll use a random lottery system to select who goes, but make it clear to the Captains: mission-critical personnel will go down in the first five days.”

  “What about officers?” Ling Yu asked. Her question might have been interpreted as hopeful, but her tone was flat.

  “Rank hath its privileges,” Harold said sardonically. “Today, those privileges include missing shore leave because we need the fleet ready to go into action if our strangers show up.”

  Somehow, Harold wasn’t surprised when Tran showed up at his office several hours later. The fleet’s chief medical officer didn’t even bother with waiting after knocking; she just opened the door and set herself in a chair in front of his desk, eyeing him with level dark eyes.

  “Doctor,” he greeted her after a moment. “How can I help you?”

  She snorted.

  “You just ordered a setup that will bring every other officer and crew in this fleet in to see one of my doctors,” she pointed out. “And when are you planning to see a counselor yourself?”

  He sighed and slid his communicator across the desk.

  “As soon as I’d received a message like this…or the alternative,” he told her. The message on the communicator had just arrived through the hyperfold relay network—from Ramona, telling him that her expedition hadn’t left for Lelldorin yet and she was safe.

  “If I’d received a message telling me that my wife’s expedition had been on Lelldorin, this conversation would involve me informing you that I was surrendering my command out of concern for my mental state,” he admitted flatly. “One fiancée lost to war was enough for one lifetime, and at least she was a starship captain. We knew what we were getting into then.”

  “I’m glad she’s okay,” Tran agreed as she slid the communicator back across the desk. “I’ll admit, I had forgot she was supposed to be on Lelldorin. I’m still concerned about your mental state, Vice Admiral.”

  He smiled thinly.

  “Because everything I said about our crew applies to me?” he noted. “Because the man who made the decisions that delivered us to those systems too late was me?”

  “What else could you have done?” she asked.

  “Nothing. Believe me, Dr. Tran, I know that,” Harold said. “I left Earth behind once. That was harder, in many ways. I don’t think you’ll find many veterans of the original Tornado mission who are particularly mentally fragile, Doctor.”

  “There aren’t many veterans of that mission left, Vice Admiral,” Tran pointed out gently. “A lot of them are dead. Most of the rest retired, and with good reason. So, just because you faced one horrific tragedy and survived, a new one shouldn’t bother you?”

  His laugh was short and bitter as he
leaned back in his chair and studied her.

  “I wouldn’t go that far, Dr. Tran,” he admitted. “I’m shaken, yes. A lot of people died and I’m damn angry about it. Nothing I could have done short of outright prescience could have saved those worlds or those innocents.

  “But I will be damned if I will fail the next ones. If I have to start a war, if I have to shatter the Theocracy, to protect our remaining colonies…I will.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say, Dieu. I’m going to do my job and I think I’m capable of doing so. What more do you want from me?”

  She chuckled.

  “Not much,” she agreed. “I just needed to get a feel for where you were at, Vice Admiral. I’ll admit I was more concerned about you ordering retaliatory strikes than breaking.”

  “That would be breaking,” Harold said, his voice quiet in shocked horror. “Worse than. No, Dr. Tran, I will not be launching my own atrocities against the Kanzi. Too many questions in play still.

  “But I will get answers. One way or another.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Set Condition One throughout the ship. Repeat, set Condition One throughout the ship. All hands to battle stations. This is not a drill. All hands to battle stations, set Condition One throughout the ship.”

  If there was anyone aboard Bellerophon who wasn’t already at their battle station, Morgan would have been stunned. The estimated arrival at the black hole had been public knowledge for over a day. The entire bridge crew had drifted in over the last hour as the clock ticked down.

  Technically, Morgan was the tactical officer on duty, but Masters had showed up about twenty minutes earlier. Instead of taking over the main console, however, he’d tucked himself into one of the petty officer stations and pulled out a book, very obviously not relieving her.