19
Command deck
Tal listened to Vellmar’s report with burgeoning hope. Her Lead Guard’s task had been the most dangerous of them all, rife with potential for catastrophic failure. Not only had she brought her team through with no losses so far, she had also turned Operations Master Onruang and eight security officers, including the chief and four others who had met them at the captain’s private dining room.
And she had made allies who were even now conducting their invisible sabotage.
“Submaster Bakshi is a concern,” Vellmar added. “She wiped her tracking data, which is only possible at her rank if she’s a Political Bureau officer. Onruang doesn’t know where she is. But she has her own agenda, which might include taking over the ship. He’s sent backup to guard the bridge access but isn’t certain they’re trustworthy. He also thinks she’s the one responsible for killing those forty-five officers.”
“He doesn’t know? What about the security footage?”
“It’s conveniently missing.”
Tal relayed this to the three women standing beside her on the flagship bridge. With her physical body still on the broadcast, Ekatya could not respond verbally, and Salomen was too busy controlling Commodore Vataka to engage in conversation. Her strength was flagging with this prolonged projection.
Lhyn was the only one able to answer.
“We’re outside our realm of knowledge,” she said. “The Bureau looks like another layer of control, this one over the officers and so secret that even Protectorate Security isn’t aware of it. Or if it is, Sholokhov never mentioned it to Ekatya.”
Ekatya nodded.
“On the Phoenix, the only people who can erase tracking data are Commander Cox, Commander Lokomorra, Ekatya, and Admiral Greve.”
Ekatya pointed to Vataka and drew a line across her throat.
“Bakshi is coming after Vataka,” Lhyn translated.
“Who is not only her superior officer on the ship,” Tal mused, “but also her superior in the Bureau. She’s making a big play. If she can neutralize him, get this ship back under control, and finish the bombing of Alsea, she can expect a great reward back home.”
“And she’s willing to take a great risk to get it,” Vellmar said. “Starting with wiping out her own officers and attacking the third-in-command. If she brings Alsea down, the Empire won’t give a fanten’s fart about her crimes. But if she fails, she’s a dead woman. This is a do-or-die strategy.”
“Which makes her extremely dangerous.” Tal did not like this at all. “How far out are you?”
“Ten to fifteen. We’re climbing through a brace shaft now.”
“All due haste, Vellmar. Salomen is tiring. We need to finish this.”
She ended the call and watched Ekatya’s glowing body on the display. Having made the excuse that she was called to another world but would return to this one when her emissary arrived, Ekatya had gratefully fallen silent. But the divine light still shifted around her, making even her skin glow, and Tal watched it for any sign of fading. She was extremely concerned about Salomen’s endurance. Her tyree had already been halfway to death and back; how much farther could they push her strength?
“There’s another option,” Salomen said in a strained voice. “I could force him to set the ship to self-destruct.”
“Salomen, no!” Lhyn gasped. “You’d never recover.”
“I thought I failed.” She took a harsh breath. “When you came to get me. I cannot face that in reality. I won’t. It was torment.”
“You’d rather be responsible for the deaths of everyone on this ship than for the death of Alsea,” Tal said.
She gave a single nod.
“That is not your burden to carry, tyrina. It’s why we have our backup plan with the Delfin torpedo. As a failsafe in case things go wrong here.”
“You cannot tell me . . . that you wouldn’t do it if you were me.”
“In truth, I can. Because I did consider that as an absolute last resort. Then I spoke with Ekatya about it. She said that unless Voloth protocol was radically different from that of the Protectorate, it takes two ranking officers to initiate the self-destruct. Given what we’ve seen of Voloth paranoia, I’m starting to think it may take three.”
Ekatya held up three fingers and nodded emphatically.
“There’s only one of us with these powers, so yes, I can tell you that if I were you, I wouldn’t force that. It’s a mathematical impossibility.”
Raw, jagged dread drained from their link, pushed out by golden relief. There was so little she could do to help her tyree fight this battle, but at least she could set her mind at rest. That Salomen would even consider such an option was a testament to her failing reserves.
Silently, she willed Vellmar to hurry.
“While we’re waiting, I need you to prepare to pull out,” she said. “If Bakshi does what I think she will, Vataka may die. You cannot be inside him when that happens.”
“No.” Despite her fatigue, Salomen managed to smile. “I don’t want a second trip.”
“Not that I ever want to chase Salomen down the Path of the Return again,” Lhyn said, “but I wouldn’t mind a second trip of my own. Do you know what it cost me to leave without having a good look around? I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering what I missed!”
Salomen let out a wheezing laugh. “I knew it.”
“Can you blame me?”
“No, but you couldn’t publish . . . that paper. Some things are not . . . meant for study.”
“Salomen, please hold on.” Tal reached for her nonphysical hand, found it clenched, and wrapped her own hand around it. “Just a little longer.”
Silently, Lhyn picked up her other fist.
“I feel . . . as if I’m breaking apart. Don’t let me go.”
“We won’t.” In their physical world, she concentrated on moving her thumb to brush it across Salomen’s lips. “Do you feel that?”
“Yes.”
“You’re still here. Still in my arms. You’re solid. As soon as you let go, you’ll be all right.”
“Fahla, I’m dreaming about it. Letting go.”
Tal muted her earcuff, assuring their privacy. “Did I ever tell you about the time Micah used an immobilizer on me?”
“What? No!”
Delighted with this resurgence of energy, she continued her blatant distraction. “It was before I met you, when I was feeling the effects of a broken tyree bond.”
Now she had Ekatya and Lhyn’s attention as well.
“After we left?” Lhyn asked.
She nodded. “I was in terrible condition. I should have been seeing a healer, but I wouldn’t tell anyone what was wrong. I wanted to escape everything—the weight of my position, the decisions, the expectations. My life. I repeatedly slipped my Guards and ran away. I used to jump in my personal transport and fly to the Snowmounts for a solo trail run.”
Salomen’s breathing was still labored, but she was focused. “How does this . . . lead to using—?”
“Micah decided to teach me a lesson about what could happen if the wrong person found me alone. He set up an ambush. I was too cocky to realize that the ambush I sensed wasn’t the real one.”
Ekatya’s smile held a melancholy edge. She was enjoying the tale, but hated being the reason behind it.
“You mean you were too arrogant to believe a low empath could get the better of a high empath,” Lhyn said.
“I prefer my words, thank you.”
Salomen let out a tiny chuckle.
“I began to stalk him, thinking I would teach him a lesson about trying to catch me unawares. That’s when I walked into the trip wire.”
Ekatya tried to stop her grin, but her amusement sparked across their link.
“I dropped like a rock. Couldn’t even blink. I didn’t know what to think, because if I couldn’t trust Micah of all people . . .”
“You would have been alone,” Salomen whispered. “Truly alone.”
&nb
sp; “Yes.” The tale had suddenly gained significance. “Then he freed me, and we had a shouting match. I threatened him with prosecution. He told me to go right ahead, but at least I’d know that one person tried to tell me the truth. That was when I finally realized I wasn’t alone after all. There was still one person I could talk to.”
In her physical body, she felt the touch on her lips. “You will never be alone again,” Salomen said firmly.
“Don’t hurt him when this is over.”
“I’d never hurt him. But I will have . . . a talk with him.”
“Poor Micah. How long will it take him to recover from that?”
Salomen’s smile slipped at the sounds of muffled shouts and weapons fire. “Is that—?”
“Get ready to let him go.” Tal unmuted her earcuff as Vataka bolted from his chair.
“Onruang,” he barked. “What is happening?” He scowled at the bridge doors while listening to what was clearly an unsatisfactory answer.
“Lancer Tal, Bakshi is there. She’s disabled the security cams, but one of Onruang’s people got out the call before going silent. If she’s openly killing officers now—”
“She’s closed the exit behind her,” Tal finished. Bakshi had set herself on a course with only two possible endings.
“Move faster,” Vataka snapped. Outside, the weapons fire had ceased, leaving an ominous silence.
The bridge doors opened and a short-haired woman marched in, leading a stream of security officers. With her average height and plain appearance, she was the sort who would be overlooked, a zalren blending with her surroundings until she chose to strike.
“Bakshi is on the bridge with twelve armed officers,” Tal said. “I don’t know how many she left outside.”
Ekatya winked out and reappeared in the open bridge doors. She looked around, then turned and held up four fingers.
“Strike that, she left four guarding the doors,” Tal corrected. Fahla, she envied Ekatya’s ease of movement with this incorporeal form.
Vellmar acknowledged the message at the same time that Commodore Vataka spoke.
“Submaster Bakshi,” he said in an unimpressed tone. “You do not have authorization to be on the bridge. Leave at once.”
“What happened to you?” Bakshi asked. “You were the rising star of the Bureau. Now you’ve bared your throat for the Protectorate and some twinkly lights on a faked video link.”
“You’ve seen the same evidence I have. Captain Serrado could not have known those names.”
“She didn’t know any names, she just pointed out bodies!”
“The correct ones! Do you think a Seeder would trouble herself with all of our names?”
“She certainly seems to know yours. You betrayed the Empire and nearly lost us this battle.”
“I am saving the Empire!” he cried. “Open your eyes and look past your ambition. We came here once and lost an entire invasion group down to the last bolt, bar, and slave. We came again and lost every mobile asset from the Third Fleet. What else could have defeated us but the strength of the Seeders? Now we’ve come for the third time, and so far we’ve lost two heavy cruisers, two destroyers, and every one of our fighters. The mines didn’t get through to the elevator, and we can’t get a missile through to Alsea. There’s our explanation.” He pointed at the display. “It’s insanity to continue down this path! Do you want to curse the Empire and ruin your own afterlife?”
“I don’t know about my afterlife, but I know about yours.”
“Salomen, get out,” Tal said.
Ekatya appeared in front of Lhyn and turned her away, silently shaking her head.
“Commodore Vataka, with the power vested in me by the Political Bureau, and in keeping with my duty to serve the Empire—”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Vataka snarled.
Salomen bent over, hands on her thighs as she wheezed. Without her influence, Vataka was no longer trying to convince his underling of the truth as he had seen it. His fury at her effrontery filled the room.
“I’m removing you from command and putting an end to this charade,” she said, signaling her officers. “Take him to the brig.”
“Belay that order!” Vataka roared.
“They don’t answer to you,” she said smugly. “They answer to the Empire.”
“I didn’t do any of this! It wasn’t me!”
She let out a contemptuous snort. “I suppose Fahla made you do it?”
The officers came up both sides of the room, converging on the fifth level. Before they cleared the second step, Vataka whipped out his disruptor.
His bolt missed Bakshi, who dove to the side and came up shooting. The bridge officers hurled themselves to the deck as disruptor bolts sizzled over their stations from two directions.
It ended quickly, with a close-range shot from a security officer who took advantage of Vataka’s single-mindedness.
Tal was forever grateful for Salomen’s exhaustion. Vataka’s head blew apart in a pink spray that flew right through her insubstantial body, but with her head down and eyes closed, she was blissfully unaware.
In their physical realm, she was a dead weight slumped against Tal. Her pained, rasping breaths sounded as if they were drawn from the very bottom of her lungs.
“You’re all right.” Tal needed all her strength to brace her larger bondmate and keep their connection intact. “You let go in time. Just relax and breathe. Don’t look at him.”
The disparity between their physical and spirit selves had never been more stark. Though Salomen’s body was taxed to its limit, her spirit self was already recovering its balance. Despite Tal’s advice, she glanced at the corpse before turning away with a grimace. “I cannot go back in,” she croaked. “I don’t have the strength.”
They all felt the truth of that, as well as her misery in admitting it.
“You had more strength than anyone could ask. Rest now. You’ve done your task. We still have options.” Tal looked at Ekatya, who gave an affirming nod.
“Submaster Bakshi.” Her voice rang out from the display.
“Ah, now you find your words.” Bakshi holstered her disruptor and walked toward the top level. “Interesting timing you have, Captain Serrado.”
“I will not waste my time on an unbeliever. Your murder of one who was trying to do right has sealed your fate.”
“I’m in charge of the ship holding the missiles that will turn Alseans to ash. I’d say I’ve sealed your fate. You’ll go down in history as the captain who let this planet die. It’s fair, isn’t it? You only ever beat us by treachery. Now that the odds are even—”
“The odds are not even. You’re not in charge of that ship.”
Now on the fifth level and unwittingly right next to Ekatya, Bakshi gave a derisive laugh. “Maybe you should open your eyes, Captain. There’s been a change in command.”
Ekatya’s spirit self looked daggers through her. “I’ve seen no handover of command, only murder many times over.”
“The cost has been higher than I hoped.” Her emotions belied the outward display of regret. “But we are all children of the Empire. We owe our lives to her. If necessary, we owe our deaths as well.”
“But not your own, I notice.”
“I risked my life getting here. That I stand here while he lies there”—she pointed at the headless corpse—“doesn’t mean I wasn’t willing to die. It means that you’re no Seeder. Our Seeders are helping me. And your so-called Emissary, wherever she is, will soon be as dead as everyone else who tried to stop me.” Regally sitting in Vataka’s chair, she added, “Weapons, Operation Ash is still in force. Fire missiles.”
On the fourth level, an older officer rose shakily from the floor. “Which missiles?” she asked in a trembling voice.
“I said Operation Ash. The bioforce missiles, you useless drip of snot! What kind of bridge did those two run?”
“Uh . . . Commodore Vataka ordered those to be stowed. They’re back in the arm
ory.”
“Seeders save me from crawling idiots.” Bakshi looked toward the ceiling, her mouth twisted in a scowl. “Get them back out again. And fire what we have until then!”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ekatya said.
“Comms, end this transmission and open a properly secure one to our ships.”
“Your weapons rooms won’t fire more than once.”
That stopped her. “Belay that order. What do you mean?”
“You have one shot left. Choose it carefully.”
In the physical world, Salomen had recovered enough strength to lift her weight off Tal. “What is she doing?” she whispered.
Tal caught Ekatya’s eye, silently asking the same question. They needed her to stall for time, but this was a tremendous gamble. If the slaves hadn’t succeeded, she would lose the credibility her goddess persona had earned thus far.
Ekatya lifted her hands in a Do you have a better idea? gesture.
No, she didn’t.
Bakshi was studying the display with narrowed eyes. “You can’t possibly have managed that level of sabotage. Even if you are a goddess, you said you can’t affect things on the physical plane.”
“No, but I can help your people see the truth.”
“Like Vataka?” she sneered. “Comms, end it. Fire missiles!”
The display reverted to a battle grid.
Freed from her constraints, Ekatya swore. “That didn’t gain us much.”
“Uh . . .” the weapons officer ventured.
Bakshi snapped something short, inspiring a hurried and apologetic explanation from the weapons officer. But with the transmission down, the translation was no longer in effect.
“What is she saying?” Tal demanded.
“That the Phoenix still has mostly hard shielding, so firing missiles would be a waste of resources,” Ekatya answered. “She’s recommending shield breakers.”
Bakshi growled out an order.
“She says ‘do your damned job.’ I don’t think Bakshi has much bridge experience. Definitely none in battle.”
“I think I could do better,” Lhyn remarked.
“The comm officer hasn’t opened a channel to the destroyers. Bakshi belayed the first order but didn’t repeat it. He’s taking her literally instead of showing any initiative. It’s passive resistance. And the destroyers aren’t making any moves. They’re waiting to see how this plays out.”
Alsea Rising: The Seventh Star (Chronicles of Alsea Book 10) Page 13
