The flagship fired yet another wave of bioforce missiles. This time, the Phoenix managed only sixteen interceptions, its worst effort yet.
The battle was taking a toll on Ekatya’s weapons teams. Diminishing accuracy was a sign of both physical and mental fatigue. Knowing that an entire planet depended on their every shot was too great a burden to bear for long.
“Fighter teams intercepting,” the weapons officer reported. “Positive contact on one. Two. Three.”
Ekatya waited, her stomach dropping at the too-long pause.
“Negative contact. The fourth missile is below minimum altitude.”
Andira did not speak, but her horror was a black weight on Ekatya’s soul.
It was impossible to accept, she thought numbly. Millions in the city would die. Blacksun Base would be affected by the fallout within minutes. Lhyn, Andira, Salomen, Lanaril—they were all there, standing outside.
Her grandfather had once told her that ghosts were simply people who didn’t know they had died. By that definition, Lhyn and Salomen were already ghosts.
Andira and Lanaril were not. They knew they were dead. But the far worse fate would be watching their civilization die first.
“Nightwing is in pursuit.”
Her head snapped up. What could Candini and Rahel possibly do?
“They are attempting to grapple the missile and return it to target altitude.”
“They have a modified grappler.” She hadn’t even thought of it. “Bigger reach and reinforced. Stars and Shippers, it might be possible.”
“Your warrior and mine.” Andira’s eyes were brimming with the desperate hope that brightened their link. “It has to be a sign. It has to.”
“May Fahla guide and protect them,” Lanaril murmured.
Ekatya recognized the first line of an ancient prayer. She was trying to remember the rest of it—something about walking in dark places—when her comm officer spoke.
“Commander Lokomorra, the flagship has accepted our call.”
“Captain?” Lokomorra asked.
“I’m ready.” She wasn’t, but there was no other option.
“Put it through to Captain Serrado, voice only,” he ordered.
A soft click sounded in her internal com, followed by a voice she recognized from the flagship’s bridge.
“Captain Serrado. No video? Is something wrong with your systems?”
“It’s been a busy day.” She should not have been capable of this kind of calm, but was grateful that her emotions had shut down. “We’ve had minor damage. Is something wrong with yours?”
“Not at all. I didn’t want to talk terms until you understood the true stakes. Now that we’ve broken your defense, we can proceed. I am Commodore Vataka, at your service.”
“A commodore, I’m honored. The Voloth Empire didn’t think a captain was good enough to face me?”
Vataka hesitated for a telltale second before replying. “Our captain has fought well and bravely. His job is done. Authority to treat with the enemy falls to me. Captain, would it surprise you to know that the Empire has developed a counteragent for the payload we dropped in Alsea’s atmosphere?”
“No, that doesn’t surprise me,” she said in disgust. “But it does explain why you waited until now to accept my call. This isn’t a battle, it’s extortion.”
“It is a strategic master stroke. If the Alsean government agrees to our terms, their planet will live. Minus the population of Blacksun, of course. But in the larger picture, that should be an acceptable loss. Better a city than a civilization.”
She could easily predict the terms on offer: lifelong slavery in exchange for the right to keep breathing. And the Voloth would have access to Alsea’s nanoscrubbers, evening the playing field between them and the Protectorate.
“I will never agree,” Andira snarled. “Neither will the Council.” She clutched her chest and spun around, her fury gone in an instant. “Tyrina!”
Lhyn and Salomen were climbing to their feet.
“Are we too late?” Salomen barely got the words out before being scooped into a fervent embrace.
“No.” Andira’s voice was little more than a gasp. “But Goddess above, we need you.”
“I have the authority to discuss those terms with you and convey them to the Alsean Council.” Ekatya pulled Lhyn into a quick side hug, the most she could allow herself in this fraught moment. “Do you agree to a cessation of hostilities in the meantime?”
“I will allow it. Our destroyers are standing down.”
On the battle grid, the four Voloth destroyers broke off their attacks and flew toward the flagship.
“Commander, notify the Thea and Victory and tell them to stand down.” Eliminating the remainder of those mines was now top priority; she trusted him to give the right orders. Silently, she gestured at Salomen and pointed to the flagship on the display.
“We need to jump back to their bridge,” Andira said. “Can you get us there?”
“I think so. What aren’t you telling me? What happened?”
“Commander.” Mindful of the open call to the flagship, her weapons officer spoke quietly. “Nightwing has captured the missile and is regaining altitude.”
Andira must have heard from the war council at the same time. “Yes!” she shouted, punching the air with both fists. “Thank you, Fahla!” Her relief nearly overwhelmed their link as she flung her arms around Salomen again. “You missed a lot, but it’s all right now.”
Ekatya would have danced a damn jig if she’d had time. Instead, she muted the call. “Salomen, get us over there now.”
Shocked realization spread across Salomen’s face, but she nodded.
This jump was easier than the first one. One moment Ekatya was looking at her bridge, the next she was staring at Commodore Vataka. The captain’s corpse had been removed, but no one had yet cleaned the blood from the deck—or his chair.
“Yuck.” Lhyn scrunched her nose.
“Force him,” Andira said. “Obedience this time. We’ll work with him, not against him.”
Salomen asked no questions. Barely two seconds later, she said, “I have him.”
“Commodore Vataka,” Ekatya said immediately. “I have called a ceasefire. Tell your ships that this battle is over. Inform your crew that no more bioforce missiles are to be fired. Not today, not ever.”
“You heard her,” he barked to his startled bridge officers. “Stow all remaining bioforce missiles. Inform the captains that the ceasefire is permanent.”
They hustled to obey. Ekatya allowed herself a deep breath, then another.
That, she thought, might have been the easy part.
“I’ve been informed that our communication system is repaired,” she said. “I suggest we go to visual. In fact, given the historic nature of these talks, I believe we should open this communication for all interested parties to observe.”
Dialogue between opposing military forces was never conducted on an open channel. The results, yes, but not the means of arriving at them. She had phrased her command carefully, using the pride of the Empire to give Vataka a justification that would allay the suspicions of his bridge officers.
“Pride,” Andira told Salomen. “Gleeful agreement. This is exactly what he wants, to have his conquest broadcast in real time.”
Ekatya spared a moment to admire the two Alseans, who were taking multitasking to new heights. They were standing on the planet, listening to translated communications on their earcuffs, and acting on them here in orbit. At least she had the advantage of needing no translation.
Vataka agreed with alacrity. Despite the confirmation from her comm officer, Ekatya took a chance and dragged open her physical eyes. The duality of vision was dizzying, but she saw enough before letting her heavy lids shut once more.
“Well, Captain? I’m waiting. Your reputation is legendary. I’m eager to see this legend for myself. Now that you’ve surrendered,” he added smugly.
“Engage visual,” she sa
id.
The split view that appeared on the flagship’s smaller display showed the result of Lokomorra’s preparations. On one side was the standard visual communication, transmitted from her command console. On the other was a view typically reserved for official or celebratory transmissions, sent from a cam mounted above the lift doors and taking in the entire bridge.
Both showed the blinding glow that enveloped her body. What could easily have been dismissed as data manipulation in the closeup was made far more convincing by the wide view.
She heard several gasps on the flagship bridge. It did look rather impressive.
“What is the meaning of this?” Vataka demanded. “What trick are you attempting?”
“There is no trick.” It was decidedly odd to see herself speaking on that display, with her eyes closed and head resting against the seat back. “I am not Captain Serrado.”
Lhyn put both hands to her mouth, admiration chasing astonishment as she realized their plan.
“You certainly look like her,” he snapped. “Minus the visual effects.”
“Commodore Vataka, engage your full bridge view and add it to this communication.”
“Do it,” he ordered his comm officer. He was startled and angry, but still under Salomen’s control.
“Dual transmission engaged.”
“Excellent,” Ekatya said. “Now we can begin. For those watching now and all who will watch this recording in future, allow me to summarize our situation. Commodore Vataka of the Voloth Empire has agreed to a ceasefire after firing bioforce missiles on Alsea. He tells me he has authority to treat with the Empire’s enemies, but I am no enemy.”
Fucking Hades, how was she supposed to pull this off?
“Captain.” Lokomorra’s voice was quiet in her physical ear. “Candini was successful.”
Thank all the stars. With that last piece in place, she tuned out the commands he was issuing to operations and medical. A ceasefire meant time to deal with the aftermath, and she was glad to leave that in his hands.
“With Captain Serrado’s permission, I have inhabited her body,” she said. “To the Alseans, I am known as Fahla. You know me as a Seeder.”
The Voloth bridge officers murmured amongst themselves. She was pleased to note that her own crew didn’t turn a hair.
“Excited belief,” Andira urged Salomen. “Whether or not he personally worships the Seeders, his empire acts in their name. This is a coup for him.”
“He does worship them,” Salomen said. “But he fears deception.”
“Work with that. If you can, remove the doubt gradually. The belief will be all the stronger for being natural.”
“We’ve heard of the Seeder known as Fahla,” Vataka said. “I would like to make her acquaintance. But surely you understand the Empire will need evidence that you are who you say you are.”
“Allow me,” Lanaril said. “Let’s give Salomen time to remove that doubt.” She began speaking, her careful enunciation making it easier for Ekatya to hear and memorize.
“For an Empire that claims to act in my name and the names of my brethren,” Ekatya repeated, “I should think faith would be enough. But no matter. You ask for evidence? You shall have it, in the form of a gift. Commodore Vataka, I give you the gift of truth. Mine . . . and yours.”
The guidance continued in distinct phrases that burned themselves into her brain as she understood Lanaril’s inspiration. Looking at Salomen, she echoed the first.
“I am the goddess of compassion and family, though I suspect that means little to you.”
Her gaze settled on Lhyn. “I am the goddess of wisdom, learning, and inner strength. That, I’m afraid, is also of no interest to you.”
Andira knew where this was leading, nodding as their eyes met.
“Today you woke the goddess of judgment, protector of her people. I am no goddess of war, though you may mistake me for one if you do not choose wisely. Tell me, Commodore. Do you truly believe you act with divine approval from the Seeders?” Going off script, she added, “Speak the truth with no prevarications.”
A direct command. Under Salomen’s compulsion, he had no choice but to obey.
“No,” he said. “Some in the Quorum do. Most don’t.”
Two-thirds of the bridge officers turned to stare in open shock. Vataka had uttered an unthinkable truth.
Confident now that they had crossed that line, Ekatya spoke for herself. “Yet you claim that approval. Your government tells its people that by serving it, they are serving the wishes of the Seeders.”
“Yes.”
“Explain why you and your government claim an approval you know is a lie.” An order, not a question.
“It’s done,” Salomen said. “He believes. He’s eager to please her.”
“It’s a useful fallacy.” Vataka spread his hands in an expansive gesture. “The Empire’s reach depends on it. We’re controlling too many worlds. Our citizens are outnumbered thirty to one by slaves and hangers. If they ever rose together, the Empire would fall in a day. Fear and military might keeps most of them down; fear of acting against the Seeders does the rest. And pride,” he added with a touch of his own. “I’ve often said we should value the power of pride. Some think fear is more powerful, but I don’t agree. People will do anything as long as they can convince themselves they’re right and justified. If they think they have divine approval? So much the better.”
By now, the few officers still working had given up. Vataka had the unwavering attention of every person on the bridge—and everyone else watching this broadcast, both in the Protectorate and the Voloth Empire.
“I see,” she said. “When you told your crew to enact genocide against an entire planet, they thought they were doing what was right.”
Most of the officers looked distinctly uncomfortable. Several were visibly frightened. A few were angry, but she didn’t know if that anger was directed against Vataka’s earlier lies or the truth he was now speaking.
Andira was on the same wavelength. “They’re mostly horrified, but three of them want him to stop talking.” She pointed to two officers on the fourth landing and one on the third. “Him, her, and her.”
“Commodore, I appreciate your honesty so far. Some of your officers do not. They don’t believe your people deserve the truth. The man just below you. The woman to his left. And the woman in the center of the third landing. Remove them from your bridge.”
In retrospect, she should have phrased it more carefully.
Vataka whipped out his disruptor and squeezed off three shots in rapid succession. Screams rent the air, both from the dying officers and those terrified by the lethal violence. Next to the third victim, a man dazedly wiped viscera from his face.
Salomen let out a wordless cry, her distress flooding their link.
“You couldn’t have stopped him,” Andira said hurriedly. “You cannot risk losing your control. It’s not your fault.”
“I know.” Salomen’s voice shook, but she kept her hold.
“They are silenced.” Vataka replaced his disruptor.
What was Ekatya supposed to say to that? Good job, not quite what I meant?
“I accept your proof,” he continued. “Captain Serrado could not know the identity of the other three Political Bureau officers on this bridge. No one in this task force knew that. You are who you say you are, and I am proud to serve.”
Make that Good job, I always wanted a homicidal worshiper.
“Then let us continue,” she managed. “You have shown me your dedication to the truth. I am pleased. Tell us now, did the Alseans attack your people before you attempted to take this planet by force the first time?”
“No.”
The bridge officers gaped at each other, confirming a Fleet Intelligence theory: not even citizens or lower-ranked officers knew the whole truth.
“Did you ever send a peaceful envoy to treat with the Alseans, as you told your people?”
“No. That was a lie.”
&n
bsp; “Did the Alseans even know of your existence before you attempted to invade their planet? To enslave and exterminate them?”
“No.”
“Fuck me,” whispered one man. The others were silent, but their expressions matched his words.
“Tell your people the truth now. Why did you invade Alsea the first two times?”
“It has strategic importance. It’s close to the Protectorate border and rich in natural resources. But the critical reason was its people. Alsean empaths would have been invaluable slaves. Possibly even turned the tide in our war with the Protectorate.”
An officer on the first level dropped her head into her hands.
“How many of the planets you have attacked were truly a threat to your Empire?”
“I don’t know. Many of our records predate my work with the Bureau.” Eager to provide some kind of answer, he hurriedly added, “But in the twenty years I’ve served? Three, maybe. That is, they could have been a threat if we hadn’t put a stop to their technological development.”
“Fuck me,” said the officer who had sworn earlier. “It’s all a lie? All of it?”
The others appeared just as stunned. Ekatya found herself reluctantly sympathetic.
“How many of your envoys have been attacked during your tenure?”
He laughed. “We don’t send envoys. We send intelligence gathering teams to determine which worlds are worth our investment. Primitives rarely even know we’re there.”
“One last question, Commodore. We know why you attacked Alsea the first two times. This third time, you violated all norms of civilized warfare by using bioforce missiles. You attempted genocide against a peaceful people. Why?”
“Do you want the official answer from my government? Or do you want the answer I believe?”
“I’m interested in both.”
He looked happy to hear that. “Officially, we were ensuring the enslavement of the Alseans, access to their nanoweaponry, and the stripping of their resources. I’m sure that’s all true, but they’re not the real motivating forces. They’re what procured political support. The real motivation is that the current Quorum leaders are afraid to look weak. Being beaten by a tiny planet full of primitives, which then signed a treaty with you—that is, with the Protectorate—it doesn’t get weaker or more humiliating than that. This was supposed to be a lesson to the Protectorate and to those in the Empire who might be inspired by Alsean resistance. Resist our might and you’ll be wiped out of existence.”
Alsea Rising: The Seventh Star (Chronicles of Alsea Book 10) Page 9
