Michael Anderle - [Heretic of the Federation 03]

by Time to Fear (epub)

  “I do now,” she answered smugly.

  “And he was laughing,” the man continued. “It was the last sound I heard before I exploded in half a dozen different places at once.”

  “Try being dangled over the edge of a cliff while the three of them debate how long it’ll take you to hit the bottom,” Ivy snarked. “And then, when you do manage to grab his arm and crack a couple of ribs, all he does is fall off the cliff toward you and whines all the way down about how your plan was so much worse than his.”

  “Or the whole bit where you’re arcing electricity, so he hits you with a firehose and asks you how you like them apples,” John added. “Sadistic son—”

  The drone set his dessert down in front of him and he subsided as he ate. Beside him, Ivy settled as well, and Amaratne’s face fell into lines of contentment as he took the first mouthful.

  By the time they were done, the effects of the day were making themselves felt and John yawned.

  “More coffee?” Roma asked as they laid their spoons down and they looked at each other.

  John pushed his chair back. “I’ll pass,” he said. “One I can deal with, but two and I won’t be sleeping.” He yawned, stretched, and pushed his chair in. “And I truly need to sleep.”

  “Me, too,” Ivy stood as well. “Thanks for supper.”

  She glanced at Amaratne. “Night, Mr. A.”

  “A?” the man asked and tried to stifle a yawn. “I thought I was Mr. Y.”

  “Nah. ‘A’ for ‘Amaratne,’” she explained and echoed his yawn. “Sorry.”

  He waved her apology aside. “Get some sleep. Who knows what these monsters have in store for us tomorrow?”

  “Exactly,” Ivy slipped her hand through John’s, and the young couple turned toward the door.

  Amaratne raised his empty cup and signaled for a refill as he watched them leave. He didn’t speak until they’d closed the door behind them. When he did, he was smiling.

  “There’s nothing like a good workout to bring young lovers together,” he commented.

  His companion chuckled. “So, what’s next for you?”

  “It’s time to make sure we know what our target looks like today.”

  “And your target is?”

  “Can’t you guess?”

  Ted frowned. “I can, but I’d prefer not to.”

  “Hmmm.” Amaratne rubbed his chin. “Communications, I think. I want to disrupt the main communications hubs—those that let them talk to their ships.”

  “That’s—” The AI stopped and thought about it. “Aggressive.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, stood, and moved toward the door, “and I suspect the major relay stations in orbit will be spectacular when they burn themselves up in the atmosphere.”

  He stepped out into the corridor and turned left but held the door open as Ted spoke.

  “It will be hard to hide that,” the AI told him, and Amaratne nodded.

  He’d let go of the door and taken another step when the AI added, “And Admiral?”

  “Yes?” he asked and turned with one eyebrow raised.

  Ted jerked a thumb in the opposite direction.

  “The planning offices are that way.”

  “When?” Jaleck snapped and her dark gaze burned with sudden anger.

  “Three days ago,” the messenger replied, still breathing a little heavily from the run from the communications center to her office. He gulped and caught his breath before he added, “The comms sat didn’t send its scheduled ping, so we slid a scout into the sector and found the sat was orbital wreckage and the outpost was gone.”

  “Define ‘gone,’” Jaleck asked, and the expression on his face said it was something he didn’t want to share.

  “Admiral—”

  “Better yet, send me the footage. All the footage,” she added when he hesitated.

  “Ma’am.”

  He didn’t leave but snapped a single order into his team comms. “Send it.”

  Jaleck’s tablet lit up and she viewed the first few scenes. She glanced up and asked, “Where were these taken from?”

  “The Regime was not as thorough regarding the satellite wreckage as they were regarding the settlement,” the messenger replied. “We were.”

  Fielding worried looks from her crew, she transferred the footage from her tablet to the viewscreen. Gasps echoed around the control room.

  The area where the outpost should have been still glowed. They gaped in silence as the image changed to the familiar shades of a thermal scan.

  “We were hoping—” the messenger began and his face grew bleak as the scan shifted through the spectrums. Taking a deep breath, he said, “We found no survivors.”

  “Are you sure?” one of the others asked, and he nodded.

  “We could not even find remains. There is no living thing…” His voice deepened with distress and his expression hardened. “They left no one.”

  The room erupted into a babble of questions.

  “There were families—”

  “What about the mines?”

  “Surely, the children—”

  “The comms centers were—”

  “Enough!” Jaleck’s voice cut through the noise, and they fell silent and turned toward her as she continued. “Let’s see the rest of the footage. As Watch Leader Kemgrak has observed, they were less than thorough with the satellite wreckage.”

  She handed the floor to him with a simple nod and he took her cue.

  “Some records survived, both in the wreckage left in orbit and in the pieces scattered far enough from the settlement and the mining centers to escape the destruction. The records from those are being salvaged as we speak.”

  He looked at the screen, which had shifted to show the same scans being run across the mine and communications sites. Jaleck held her tablet up, and he laid a fist briefly over his chest before he took it with both hands.

  “My gratitude, War Leader.”

  If she was surprised by the title, she did not show it. After all, she had been their War Leader and Fleet Admiral in the recent war, and Kemgrak’s father had survived it. Such knowledge would have been passed to the children.

  The images on the screen flicked swiftly through the records taken by the scout, but not before she recalled something she had said earlier.

  “How do you know it was the Regime?” she asked and gestured to the mountains of slag. “Pirates operate in the same way.”

  “Your forgiveness, War Leader,” Kemgrak answered. “When the scout entered the system, it delayed its journey to the outpost because of the presence of several Regime Navy ships.”

  Jaleck stiffened and sat bolt upright in her chair.

  “And no one thought to tell me that? Immediately?” She growled her annoyance.

  “Your demand for detail is well-known, Ma’am. The scout decided to answer the questions you would have before sending the torpedoes.”

  She allowed herself a small smile. He was correct. Had the scout sent the report on Regime ships, she’d have held it until the follow-up report arrived. Now, she didn’t have to.

  “Very well, Watch Leader.” She gestured for him to continue his report.

  “From what we can tell, the attack squadron consisted of four ships—one destroyer, two cruisers, and a battleship. The battleship was their flag.”

  “Do they know they were observed?” Jaleck asked, and Kemgrak shook his head.

  “We think not. Their departure was timed so all evidence of their presence would have faded by the time Gervach’s Pride arrived for the ore pickup.”

  “Has the carrier been alerted?”

  “No, ma’am. We wanted your orders prior to disseminating our knowledge of the attack.”

  “Good.” Jaleck steepled her fingers before her and stared at the screen. “Show me the rest.”

  Two of the technicians rose from their seats. They paused briefly in front of her.

  “With your permission, ma’am,” one said, and they left the roo
m without waiting for her to give it.

  Kemgrak’s jaw dropped, and she raised an eyebrow.

  “Well?” she asked and indicated the departed techs with a jerk of her head.

  “Watch Officer Algor had clansmen on Hrageth’s,” the Watch Leader replied. “Your forgiveness, I did not check for…”

  His words petered out as Jaleck held a hand up.

  “Better to see firsthand than not know,” she told him. “They will return as soon as they are able.”

  While the news would have come as a shock and no Dreth wished to show weakness among their fellows, she trusted her people—and the security officers waiting in the corridor.

  One had already informed her he was observing and the two were in the gym where Algor was doing his best to kill his clansman in his grief.

  “Ensure no harm occurs,” she ordered, “and have them return when Algor is himself again.”

  She turned to the rest of the room. “Is there anyone else with clan or family ties to those who died at Hrageth’s Run?”

  One of the older technicians raised her hand. “Brothers,” she said shortly, “but there a war is coming, and you will see to their revenge.”

  Jaleck inclined her chin in acknowledgment and her dark eyes gleamed. “I will,” she declared, “but you must trust me.”

  The door opened and Algor and his escort returned. Both were breathing heavily and looked the worse for wear. “With your—” Algor began, and she gestured for him to enter.

  “As I was about to tell Senior Watchman Verich,” she told them. “Vengeance will be had, but first, we must be as cunning as the derkat that hunts the kigor. Avengers fail if they die before the execution occurs.”

  Algor froze and anger rolled through his features. He mastered it and gave her a slow nod. “For the unborn who did not get to breathe,” he replied and placed his fist over his heart.

  “And the living whose breath was stolen,” she replied and returned the gesture.

  “For the wronged,” came as a solemn chorus, and she rose from behind her desk.

  “Play it all,” she ordered, and Kemgrak obliged.

  This time, no one disturbed the footage, and Kemgrak refrained from commentary. What had been salvaged was damning enough, and the scout’s search of the planet’s surface was as conclusive as they could make it.

  “Do you think they spared the humans?” one of the technicians asked, and Algor snorted.

  “Of course they did.”

  Jaleck shook her head. “I’m not so sure,” she said, and they all looked at her. She met their disbelief without flinching.

  “This is the Regime we’re talking about,” she told them, “and they are as cunning as the tark. Their attitudes toward us are well-known, and we are aware of their policy of guilt by association.”

  She fell silent and her expression darkened.

  “I think it’s likely they have killed the humans at Hrageth’s Run.”

  “But why?” Algor asked in disbelieving tones.

  “Because the loss of humans at one of our settlements reflects badly on Dreth,” she said and spoke the words slowly while her mind raced. Her frown deepened. “And they can—no, I believe they will use that loss as an excuse to annex our world.”

  He stared at her in shock, and Kemgrak darted her a look of alarm.

  Jaleck ignored them and cast a gimlet stare around the room to catch the gazes of each of her people in turn.

  “They will say our inability to protect our own people led to the loss of theirs,” she concluded, and anger rumbled through them.

  It stopped when she raised her hand. “News of Hrageth’s Run must not spread.” She turned to Kemgrak and snapped, “How many in your section know of it?”

  “Only my team, War Leader.”

  “And you have not alerted anyone else?”

  “Not until we have word from you,” he answered grimly. “We will ensure it stays that way.”

  “Make it so,” she told him. “War is coming, and we must buy time for Dreth to prepare.”

  Algor had resumed his seat, but he now raised his head. “War Leader, what will we do when the Pride discovers the damage?”

  Jaleck fixed him with a look so hard he instinctively drew back.

  “I will speak to the captain,” she told him, “but first, I must speak to the Council. For now, we will act as though the outpost is still alive. Earth can’t move unless we confirm the outpost is gone.”

  She gave him a feral smile, and Kemgrak shivered. His mother had spoken of that smile. What was it she had said?

  An angry Jaleck was something to be feared, but what her enemies came to dread was her smile.

  The stories that had followed that reminder had been the best stories, and he had memories of the admiral fighting boarders and laughing as she laid waste to the enemies around her.

  “To declare annexation, they need news that the outpost has fallen. Their ships aren’t supposed to be in that sector.”

  “Won’t they send someone?”

  She nodded. “Oh, yes,” she told him, “but it will take them time to realize we aren’t declaring the loss and more time to think of an excuse to visit the sector.”

  Her smile faded. “Dreth needs that time. Help me to secure it.”

  “From the blade to the brain,” they replied, and she came to attention before them.

  “From the blade to the brain,” she echoed and clenched her fist over her heart. “Karnach stands for Dreth.”

  The names of half a dozen houses rippled in response as the Dreth rose and returned her salute.

  “Kemgrak, our teams combine,” she told him and indicated her seat. “I must alert the Coalition.”

  “Karnach answers and is honored,” he replied.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ivy and John leaned into each other as they walked slowly down the corridor. They stopped when they reached John’s room, but their hands remained twined together.

  She looked at the door, and then at her own, drawing away slightly.

  “So,” she said, “this is it…”

  “Yup,” he replied but didn’t release her hand. “This, as they say, is…it.”

  When she tried to step away, his grip tightened to pull her up short and he drew her back gently.

  “Tell me,” he began before she could protest, “when this is over, we get to spend some down-time together to see if you like me for me…”

  Ivy smiled and wrapped her free arm around his waist.

  “John Dunn,” she assured him, “I don’t need to spend down-time with you to know that.” She pulled him closer. “I do like you for you. Remember, I knew you when we couldn’t decide how to skip a flight from Chicago to Europe without being caught?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, Ives. I remember.”

  Still smiling, she pulled his face down close enough to kiss him. This time, when she drew away, he let her go.

  “Sorry, but I need to sleep.” She pushed him gently toward his door. “Go to bed, Apostle. I’m not responsible for you in the morning.”

  He was continued to stare at her as she palmed her door open, and she grinned and winked before she stepped through.

  After a minute, he closed his jaw and turned to his door.

  “Roma?” he asked as he stepped inside.

  “Yes, John?” the AI answered.

  The door closed behind him.

  “Will I get a good night’s sleep this time?”

  “That depends on you, John. I believe you need to lie down first, though.”

  John shook his head. “That is not what I mean.” He sat on the edge of the bed and unlaced his boots.

  “You should also change into the sleeping garments provided,” the AI informed him. “Comfort facilitates sleep.”

  Again, he shook his head. “No, Roma, I’m asking if you have any more ‘testing’ planned or if I’ll be able to sleep.”

  “I have no plans to disturb your sleep tonight,” she informed him st
iffly. “That test was a one-off occurrence.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he said and got changed as she’d advised.

  He was asleep almost as soon as he’d closed his eyes.

  Ivy came to a halt and leaned on the door as it closed behind her.

  “Ivy?” Roma asked. “Is something the matter with your legs?”

  She glanced at the ceiling and lowered her head with a heartfelt sigh. “No, Roma. that’s not it.” She pushed off the door and headed to the bathroom.

  “Then what is wrong?” the AI asked. “For someone who knows the person they love feels the same way, you do not seem very happy.”

  Her laugh came out more broken than she’d intended. Sadness welled in her chest and she reached for a washcloth.

  “I haven’t told him,” she cried. “He l-likes… No, he lo-loves me, but I’m still broken, and he doesn’t even know. How do you think he’ll feel when he finds out I have this…thing…and maybe it can’t be fixed…and I’ll probably pass it to our kids?”

  “The treatment should correct that,” Roma told her, “and if it doesn’t, we’ll correct it in any offspring you have.” The AI paused before she asked tentatively. “That’s not likely to happen soon, though, is it?”

  Her jaw dropped. “Are you kidding? We’re in the middle of a war here. Nothing will happen until after the Witch is back, and maybe not even then.”

  “But…you’re human. Isn’t that what usually happens when humans partner?”

  “I am so not having this conversation with you,” she declared and scrubbed her face.

  She was brushing her teeth when Roma replied.

  “Then which conversation are we having?”

  Ivy rinsed and spat before she answered. “The one where I haven’t told John I’m broken.”

  “Oh.” The AI pretended surprise. “That conversation.”

  She changed and headed to bed. “Yes, that conversation,” she declared and turned the covers back, “but since you’re not being very helpful, it’s over.” She turned the lights out, only to have them come back on.

  “Roma, I’m trying to sleep.” She turned the lights off.