by Adam Gaffen
Phalkon looked pained. “I don’t, particularly. But I’m a patriot. I think my nation should be leading, not some company dreamed up by a woman obsessed with the past.”
“Bloody hell.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“And was Dent part of your plan?”
“Yes and no. He and I worked together, but he was double-dealing. On the one side, on my side, he was counting on me to remove Newling so his Family would be restored to a position of power. On the other side, he had a mission from Newling, to do as much damage to the Federation as possible, cause chaos so when we finally managed to demonstrate our resolve you’d be willing to talk terms. And in return Newling had promised him the same thing, restoration of his family.”
“Clever bugger, playing both sides against each other. He couldn’t lose.”
“Except he did. Blowing himself up was never part of my arrangement; Newling forced him to do it. She told me herself.”
“So why not contact us, once Newling was dead? We could have stopped all this!”
“Like I said, I’m a patriot. And I had to play out all my cards. Wouldn’t you?”
“I suppose.”
“And now you know why the Empress had to die. You’ve also managed to survive over an hour in an atmosphere which should have had you half-crazed with hallucinations,” she added, almost as an afterthought.
“I was wondering when you’d notice the time.”
“Can’t blame me for trying. But I will honor our agreement. The Union of Artemis; Gods, what a stupid name! The government I head will surrender to the Terran Federation.”
Stone stood and reached her hand down to Phalkon. “Then let’s get out of here.”
Hesitating only briefly, Phalkon clasped Stone’s hand and was pulled to her feet.
“Very good.”
CHAPTER TEN
Tycho Under; Artemis City; Cislunar Space
Stardate 12009.14
“Welcome back.”
“Nordstrom?”
“Good, you recognized me.”
“Her vital signs have stabilized,” said another voice.
“Mike?” Autumn tried to sit up but failed and fell back to the bed.
“Hello, Mistress Newling.”
“You’re back!”
“Yes, Mistress Newling. It seems I was needed here.”
She closed her eyes. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“As am I, Mistress Newling.”
“How are you feeling?” Nordstrom asked. His squad was working feverishly to inject the acetylcholine into the victims of the BZ. Most were responding positively to the treatment, their fevers breaking and waking as from a deep sleep. The problem arose with the one in ten who had progressed too far to show immediate improvement. They were going to require more intensive care if they were to recover. Needless to say he was feeling a bit overwhelmed; this was a task for a full medical corps, not a single squad.
“Odd,” Newling said. “What happened?”
In a few words he brought her up to speed on everything he knew, finishing with, “Mike can fill in the details I missed.”
“I certainly can, Captain.”
Newling tried sitting up again, more cautiously, and succeeded.
“What else is happening? Are we winning?”
“I don’t know,” Nordstrom admitted. “My end of the operation went off as expected, but I was dispatched here.”
“My connection to the Q-Net is intact; however, communications with Starfleet has been disrupted. I am attempting to route around trouble spots,” Mike said.
“Well, we’ll win or lose, I suppose, no matter what we do here. Mike, can you find our citizens who have medical training and prioritize their treatment?”
“I will endeavor to do so, Mistress Newling.”
“And stop being formal! You were calling me Autumn before the attack, and there’s no reason to change it now.”
“As you say, Autumn.”
She swung her legs around to the side.
“Help me down,” she ordered, and Nordstrom put an arm around her waist and her arm over his shoulders.
“Ready?”
“The room isn’t spinning, so I suppose I am.”
“KENDRA!”
She winced; whoever it was nearly blew her eardrums out. Having speakers inside the pilot’s helmet might be a necessity but it was also a hazard, she decided.
“What? Who is this?”
“Oh sorry, it’s Mac, hey, we’re headed back and boy do we have news for you, where are you, we didn’t see you so we figured something was going on but we didn’t know what, anyways hi!”
“It’s been busy,” Kendra said with huge dose of understatement. “What do you mean, you’re headed back?”
“The mission, it’s accomplished and then some, you should have seen the Chief, she was calm and collected, and now Phalkon’s surrendered and like I said we’re on the way up.”
“Phalkon? What about the Empress?”
“That’s the story, see –”
“Wait, Mac. Tell me when you see me. I’ve got to concentrate on landing. Out.”
“They completed the mission?” said Cass.
“You heard her, but you know Mac.”
“Right. Long on enthusiasm and sometimes long on details but all jumbled together.”
“Exactly. Brie, how we looking?”
“On the beam, Kendra, landing at the drop zone in twenty seconds minus.”
“Buckle in, hon; no landing control, this might be bumpy.”
“Wonderful,” Cass grumbled. “Why did I want to do this?”
“Because it’s the end of this road. Hold on.”
Despite Kendra’s warnings the landing was calm and, given they were on the regolith, smooth.
“Check seals.”
“Not a rookie,” said Cass.
“And I’m not going to lose my wife to carelessness. Check seals.”
“Aye, Admiral. Seals checked.”
“Brie, mind the store.”
They could see the entrance Stone’s group had used to gain access to the Complex. The Wolves were arrayed nearby, though Alexander was missing and Kendra felt a sudden pang.
“Wolf commander,” she broadcast on the general channel.
“Wrangler here, Admiral.”
“Where’s Flashdance?”
“She got dispatched to Tycho with a squad of Marines.”
“Thanks Wrangler. Out.”
There was a story there, she could tell, but she decided not to dig for now. Time enough for that later. Adopting the peculiar hopping lope of a Terran on Luna, she and Cass headed for the access point. She could see the skinsuits were Starfleet Marine issue, so she assumed they were a rear guard, a thought supported by the pulse rifle tracking their progress.
“Halt. Identify yourself.”
Hold on a sec, Cass.
Her implant popped the name Robin McGill, Pvt, SMC into her consciousness.
“Admiral Kendra Cassidy, Commander Aiyana Cassidy.”
“Advance and be recognized.”
They moved forward more deliberately until they could see the private’s face, pale and blotchy with shock. Only then did Kendra notice the flop and sag to the lower end of her left suit leg.
“Shit. Private, why are you standing?”
“Because this is my sector, Ma’am. I can manage in Luna’s gravity.”
“Bullshit. Sit down before you fall down. Who’s in charge?” A private who ought to be medevacked said nothing good for the status of the mission.
“Lieutenant Gries, Ma’am.” The private was settling to the ground, Cass having relieved her of the pulse rifle.
“Gries!” Kendra headed to the left, figuring she had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right.
She did. He was standing before the airlock to the lifts.
“Ma’am!” he said and braced to attention.
“Knock off the felgercarb, why do you have McGill stan
ding sentry? She ought to be on the way to Njord, or Tycho Under at least!”
“Ma’am, no excuses, but it’s only the three of us.”
Her retort died on her lips. “Three?”
“Ma’am. Plus whoever survived with Master Chief Stone; I haven’t gotten a full report yet. As soon as they surface, I’ll be sure to get McGill on the way.”
“Sorry for jumping on you, Lieutenant,” she said. “I had no idea it was so bad.”
“No need to apologize, Ma’am,” Gries said, obviously uncomfortable. “We did our job; we held the corridor.”
The light above the airlock illuminated. Gries took a step back and brought his rifle level.
“Get behind me,” he snapped. Then he belatedly added, “Ma’am.”
“No,” she said, pulling her own weapon from its holster. “We go down, we go down together.”
Both took a couple steps back to clear their zones of fire. The hatch slid open. A skinsuited figure emerged, rifle at port arms, and Kendra nearly fired before her mind caught up to her vision.
“Hold fire!” she said to Gries. “They’re ours!”
Sergeant Tori Monaco, SMC, the ‘plant faithfully reported.
Monaco noted the figures and belatedly began to reposition her rifle before presumably receiving the same sort of information from her implant. Instead she brought it to shoulder arms and radioed, “Sir, Sergeant Monaco reporting with a party of eleven.”
“Eleven?” said Gries. He knew he’d been bashed about, but he was certain there’d only been six Marines plus the four semi-civilians.
“Aye, sir.”
“Good to see you, Sergeant,” Kendra said, and the poor Marine nearly jumped off Luna from surprise. She recovered quickly.
“Thank you, Admiral.”
Other figures were emerging now, Kendra’s implant giving her a quick ping with each one. She breathed easier when both Stone and Mac were out, but there was one person without identification.
“Chief,” she said, a question in her tone.
“I’ll bet you’re wondering who we picked up along the way.”
“Among other things, yes.”
“Switch to channel 8.” Stone paused for a moment, obviously doing the same. “I’d like you to meet Tal Phalkon. Councilor Phalkon, Admiral Cassidy.”
Kendra’s antennae twitched. Why was Stone being so polite? Councilor? What was going on? But she held the questions back and simply said, “Councilor.”
“Admiral. I’d like to say it’s a pleasure to meet you but I believe I’ll refrain.”
Kendra let the puzzling comment go and instead switched to another channel. “Mikki? Who is this?”
“She’s what’s left of the Union government.”
“Her? What about Newling?”
“Dead. It’s a long story, but you’ll love the ending.”
“I’ll bite.”
“Phalkon has agreed to surrender to the Federation. I figure we ought to bring her to Tycho and make it official.”
“We can do that. I’ll fly escort, though I don’t think we’ll have any issues.” Kendra switched over again. “Councilor, we’re going to take you to Tycho and formally accept your surrender there.”
“Whatever you say, Admiral.”
Neither Kendra nor anyone else saw Phalkon smile ever so slightly.
“D2, Njord.”
“Colonel.”
“Captain, status of your operation.”
“We’re out of energy torpedoes, but I think we’ve knocked at least one engine off every one of those damn hulks.”
“Excellent. You’re being retasked.”
“Oh?” Orloff didn’t try to conceal her surprise.
“Yes. We need you to round up the remains of the Martian fleet and prevent their escape.”
“ROE?”
“ROE Bravo. Fire only if fired upon.”
“Aye, Colonel. On our way.”
“Godspeed, Defender.”
“WOLF ACTUAL, Njord.”
“Go.” Hopalong was never loquacious, and waiting was killing him. Maybe McKnight would have something for them to accomplish instead of sitting groundside.
“We need you to recover Endeavour.”
What?
“Colonel, repeat your last.”
“You are assigned to organize a recovery mission for Endeavour,” McKnight expanded. “She’s drifting, circa 5 kiloklicks and increasing at 4.2 KPS. Intercept, kill her momentum, and bring her back to the barn.”
“Wolf Towing, at your service,” he said. Well, at least it was something.
“Good. Out.”
Before Wrangler could relay his orders he received another call.
“Wrangler, it’s Admiral Cassidy.”
“Aye, Ma’am?”
“Need a Wolf for transport to Tycho Under. Who’s available?”
Wrangler considered carefully. He needed skilled pilots for the retrieval; balancing the tractors was a tricky job. But he couldn’t send the dregs of the squadron to carry the Admiral.
“Zhukov is available, Ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
“Any time, Ma’am.” That was the proper response for an Admiral, right?
“Zhukov, Wrangler. Wake up, Hangover.”
“Not sleeping. Just resting my eyes.” Adams’ voice didn’t sound surprised at his dig.
“VIP transport. Contact the Admiral and coordinate. And don’t do anything stupid, you or No Quit.”
“Not with the Admiral aboard,” she agreed.
“DIANA, STATUS?”
“Gravitic shields are holding, Admiral, but we need to manage them more judiciously,” the AI said. “I cannot maintain full coverage for much longer before fully draining all reserves.”
“Very well. Modify coverage as you see fit.”
“I shall do so.”
THE SPACE AROUND Njord was a mess. Between the debris from the plate, the damaged hulls, and the interference caused by the detonation of Ashlyn’s Direwolf, it was a miracle no ship had been damaged yet. It was all quite untidy, Diana thought, and wouldn’t do at all, at all. She began planning how best to utilize the resources at her disposal in order to return Njord to full function.
It was understandable that some details might be overlooked.
Such as the Miller.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tycho Under; Habitat Njord
Stardate 12009.14
The flight was smooth and uneventful, which should have worried them. Nothing else had gone as planned, after all.
They were cleared for their overflight by Senior Technician Gillaspy-Chang, who seemed cowed when Phalkon came on the channel to confirm the arrangements. Stone listened to the entire conversation to ensure no double-dealing and came away convinced the news of the surrender would spread across all of Artemis City.
Kendra was on overwatch, five kilometers above and carrying Nicole. She’d wanted a few minutes to get as much information as she possibly could about Phalkon as well as time to coordinate their arrival in Tycho Under. She didn’t actually plan to make a spectacle of the official surrender, but she wasn’t about to pass up the vid op.
She was impressed by Newling’s ability to track, given what she’d learned about BZ and its aftereffects, though she wondered how much was her and how much was coaching from Mike. That, at least, was a positive from this mess.
Well, they’d be on the ground in a few minutes; they’d loafed across to Tycho at a crawl. She hoped there wouldn’t be much fluff and ceremony, but she feared the worst. And here she was in a flight suit.
“Ready to end this, Nicole?” she asked as they neared Tycho.
“Honestly, Kendra, I’ve been ready for it to end since before it began.” There was a wistfulness to her tone Kendra hadn’t heard before.
“Nicole? Something wrong?”
“No, not wrong as such. But, well, it all seems a little pointless. I spent years as a drone in the Ministry, then another year trying to keep from g
etting killed by my own leadership while running a war and retooling our entire armory. Finally I get out of the Ministry and get dumped into your, well, our side of the same conflict for the past nine months. I’ve lost friends, I almost lost my family, and the work I did caused I don’t know how many thousands of deaths. Frankly, I’m sick of it.”
“I understand, better, maybe, than you expect.”
“I know. You’ve been generous with your time, probably more than I deserved and certainly more than I expected. So, um.” She trailed off, suddenly sounding like the not-yet-thirty-year-old she was and not the former Minister of War.
“Hey, I don’t bite,” Kendra joked.
“Well, what I was wondering was if it would be possible for me to join Starfleet?”
“Why? And don’t you have a job to do on Luna?”
“Yes, but it’s a temp job. I’m filling in for Sharon, and with the surrender of Artemis and the merger with the Federation pretty soon it’s all going to be someone else’s problem, probably Davie’s. Oh, I’ll stick through the transition, but I want to have someplace to go, someplace that doesn’t involve the deaths of other people.”
Kendra listened carefully and waited before replying.
“I have no problem with you in Starfleet; frankly, you’re the kind of person I hoped to attract: smart, dedicated, motivated. But you’re not going to be just a member of a crew. You’re too good for me not to use you to your fullest potential, which means you’re going to be an officer, sooner rather than later.”
“I don’t see the issue.”
“Think, Nicole. You know what the issue is.”
There was silence as the kilometers sped past beneath them.
“Leadership brings responsibility.”
“Exactly. You’ve done it once, and did it well. Are you willing to do it again, knowing eventually someone will pay the ultimate price for one of your decisions?”
“I think so. Maybe not today, but by the time I’m ready for the position I’ll be prepared.”
“Good. We’ll talk about it more later, but as of now I’ll add you to an accelerated familiarization program.” She deliberately shifted her tone. “Any idea what division you want to jump into?”