“Fahla, my Goddess,” she said with a perfectly straight face. “I am Lead Guard Vellmar, your emissary to the Voloth flagship Vengeance. This ship is now under Alsean control.”
With that opening statement, sure to reverberate through Alsea’s history books, she sat in the commodore’s chair as if born to it.
“She just made her reputation.” Andira’s pride could have been seen a light year away. “Give me a tencycle to teach her, and she’ll be an unbeatable candidate for Lancer.”
Salomen shushed her. “Don’t distract Ekatya.”
She was leaning against Andira, one arm wrapped around her shoulders as if she needed the support even on this plane. Despite her obvious exhaustion, she was transformed with relief and a muted joy.
Ekatya certainly understood that. It took all of her command experience to keep the euphoria out of her voice.
“Well met, Emissary,” she said in High Alsean. “I had hoped your path to the bridge would be easier. Yet you stand before me having caused fewer deaths than the last person in that chair.”
“From what I’ve seen here, my warriors and I have more respect for these people than their own superior officers. Or their government.” Vellmar waved a hand, indicating the bridge officers. “These officers are not my enemies. While it’s true that they obeyed reprehensible orders, it’s also true that the Voloth military structure punishes questions and resistance. I don’t blame them for choices made under duress. They are free to return home as soon as we can arrange transportation.”
“Does that offer apply to the hangers and slaves as well?”
“They had even less choice than the officers. Alsea has no interest in taking prisoners or punishing anyone. We merely wish to end this and prevent it from ever happening again.” Vellmar lifted her chin, the picture of a victorious commander. “To that end, the Alsean government offers the following terms of surrender to the remaining destroyers: lay down your arms, give control of your ships to us, and we will give you safe passage home.”
She paused to let that sink in.
“We understand you may not trust this promise. Your government told you that we’re monsters who killed every one of the soldiers in the last invasion. That was another lie. The survivors asked us for asylum, and we granted it. I now invite Rax Sestak, former Weapons Specialist First Class, Third Pacification Fleet, to speak for those survivors.”
Ekatya’s comm officer patched in the quantum com call from Blacksun Base. Rax wore the uniform he had used in Salomen’s march and looked agitated.
“There was a time when I believed what the Voloth Empire told me,” he said in Common. “It’s how I was able to fire mortars and missiles at Alseans who never knew we existed. But when they won the battle, they treated us better than the Empire ever did. We’re all hangers. The Alseans gave us land to build our own village. They gave us the means to grow our own food. They gave us freedom and rights. When I was attacked by four Alseans who believed lies about us, the government put them in prison. It protected me, a Voloth Empire hanger, because my assailants broke the law. I love Alsea, and I will never go back to the Empire. None of us will.”
His face was replaced with footage of villagers. “You’ve been lied to repeatedly. I know you probably think I’m being forced to say this, so let me show you who we are. This is New Haven, our village. We built every brick and board of it ourselves. I made this video two moons ago, when Lancer Tal told me I might be talking to you.”
Images shifted across the display as he took his viewers on a virtual tour of the village, showing the settlers in their homes, eating in the dining hall, laughing and relaxing on its back deck, working in their kitchen garden.
“They’re stunned.” Andira tilted her head toward the bridge officers. “They didn’t believe it at first, but this is making a difference. Visual proof of one more lie.”
“Two,” Lhyn corrected. “Rax and his people are alive, and Alseans aren’t vicious primitives.”
“Three,” Salomen said as they watched the settlers raise their hands in a village vote. “Hangers are capable of self-government. They don’t need the Empire.”
Ekatya’s head went back in surprise. She had thought this was an excellent strategy two moons ago, but now—had Andira really planned it out to that level? If the hangers on the four destroyers were drawing the same conclusion, this might tip the balance.
“I won’t say it’s been easy.” With the video finished, Rax was back on the display. “But it’s much easier now that we know they aren’t monsters, and they know we aren’t. I’ll tell you one thing about the Alseans: they keep their promises. If they say you’ll go home safely, then you will.”
Time to step back in. “I also keep my promises,” Ekatya said. “Here is mine. If you surrender your remaining ships, you will return to your homes unharmed. But if you do not, Captain Serrado will send every one of you back to the atoms from which you were created.” She injected a bit of snarl to her voice. “The moment the Voloth Empire sent its ships into this system, it lost them. Your only choice now is how your ships will be lost. Decide.”
After a fraught silence, the display shifted to show an additional broadcast. Glaring out at them in standard quantum com format was a female captain who spoke in clipped tones.
“The Voloth Empire ship Fury will never be taken by a primitive species. We do not accept your alternative and will not give you the satisfaction of destroying us. We choose a third option. Fury, set self-destruct.”
The broadcast blinked out.
On the battle grid, the two destroyers closest to the Fury veered away in either a wise act of self-preservation or a desperate run for the base space exit point.
Ekatya tensed, waiting to see which it would be. If they fled, she needed to be free to fight. Salomen would have to break the Sharing.
A quiet inner voice observed that she had just crossed the line. For a Fleet captain, the only defensible choice was to let those ships go. She had already fulfilled her mission objective. Further aggression could not be justified and would end her career.
But she had made a promise as Fahla. For the sake of Alsea’s future, she needed to keep it. This attack had to be a total loss for the Voloth Empire.
The third ship altered course, chasing after its fellows, and Ekatya mentally cast away her uniform.
“Vessel of Fahla,” she murmured in High Alsean. Salomen would understand the reference. “Prepare to end—”
All three ships slowed to station keeping.
“ . . . this battle,” she finished in a shocked mid-sentence reverse.
Andira, Salomen, and Lhyn looked at her with equally questioning faces. She could do nothing but smile at them.
A new captain appeared on the display. “This is the Voloth Empire ship Questor. We will not fight a Seeder and those under her protection. We surrender.”
In quick succession, the other two captains followed suit.
To Ekatya’s surprise, the display lit up a fourth time, showing a man with a beard that rivaled Lokomorra’s.
“This is the Fury.” He cleared his throat nervously. “We have removed our captain and canceled the self-destruct for our ship. We swore an oath to die for the Empire, but we won’t die for lies and pride. We won’t spend eternity outside the Termegon Fields. We surrender.”
“Dear goddess,” Salomen whispered. “It’s over.”
“Fucking stars, I can’t believe it.” Lhyn was equally stunned.
Andira leaned her head against Salomen’s shoulder and let her eyes close.
“In the name of Alsea and its people, I accept your surrender and reiterate our promise,” Vellmar said. “You will be returned to the Voloth Empire as soon as we can arrange transportation. In the meantime, Alsean delegations will be sent to each of your ships. I expect them to be met with honor and courtesy. My government’s leaders will discuss details with you soon. For now, let us rest and care for our wounded.”
“Ronlin is already on his
way to the Fury.” Andira straightened, taking charge once more. “That looks like the most important one to get under control first. Ekatya, is it safe to end the Sharing?”
She nodded and spoke for the broadcast. “You have chosen wisely. I now return control of this body to Captain Serrado.”
Too short, probably. Too curt for a goddess who was leaving her people after a miraculous appearance to protect them. She should have signed off with grand words of wisdom or some kind of reassurance, but Salomen had been holding this link to the point of exhaustion and beyond.
Concentrating, she lifted her heavy physical hand and made the signal.
“End broadcast,” Lokomorra said.
“Broadcast terminated,” came the confirmation.
Freed at last, she took in a relieved lungful of air. “Thank all the stars, I’m glad that’s—”
“Wait! Don’t go!”
That voice did not belong on her bridge. “Candini?” she blurted, drawing a sharp look from Andira.
Running footsteps pounded across the deck. “If you really are Fahla, you can’t let her die!”
“Who are you talking—”
“Rahel! She saved that whole fucking planet and she’s dying in surgery. She took a sabot to the chest and Dr. Wells won’t stop trying, but she’s losing the fight. Please, tell me this isn’t a trick. Tell me you can save her!”
“She took a sabot to the chest?” Ekatya repeated stupidly. She didn’t understand. The last she knew, Rahel and Candini had destroyed the bioforce missile and—
“We lost our shields.” Candini’s voice was hoarse with emotion. “The missile burned out the generator. I didn’t drop altitude in time. I was too busy celebrating and it’s my fault. Help her, please! She shouldn’t have to die because I was stupid.”
The memory hit then, of Lokomorra calling out orders to operations and medical . . . for a fighter retrieval. Oh, Hades. It had been Rahel all along.
Hurriedly, she explained to the others. Even expecting the blow, she was physically stunned by Salomen’s response. Her horror roared through their link, turning Ekatya’s bones to ice.
“No. No, not her. Andira!” she pleaded, grief shifting to desperate trust. “Don’t let me lose her. Not another one. Not her!”
It was a terrible burden, one Andira could not possibly carry. She would be forced to shatter Salomen’s heart and her own at the same time. Ekatya braced herself; this would hurt all of them.
Andira faced her bondmate with calm determination. “Can you hold this link much longer?”
“To save Rahel? As long as it takes!”
“I have an idea. I don’t know if it will work,” she cautioned. “But it’s worth a try. Micah, get Healer Wellernal. Tell him we need his empathic healing skills. He’ll have to join our Sharing and direct it through this link.” She paused, listening to the response.
“Captain Serrado? Fahla?”
“We’re working on it, Candini.” Ekatya had underestimated Andira’s tactical mind, but it was still a long shot. “I can’t guarantee anything, but we’ll do what we can.”
“We brought Wellernal here for the divine tyrees and as part of Alsea Ascendant,” Andira told her. “He’s one of our strongest empathic healers.” She turned back to Salomen. “Channel his knowledge the same way you’ve channeled the divine tyrees. Push it into Ekatya and help her project it.”
“Into me? I can’t project!”
They ignored her, too focused on each other.
“He has the skill,” Andira said quietly. “We have the power. You just need to direct it into the only physical body we can push it through.”
“Push it—yes!” Salomen lit up with hope. “Yes, I can do that! If he can tell me what he’s looking for and where I should focus.”
“Could someone explain to me—”
“You’ll be our outlet,” Andira said. “A vessel through which Salomen can direct Wellernal’s healing skills. Get to the medbay and be ready to apprise him of the medical situation.”
“Oh, is that all.”
Her sarcasm was lost on the two Alseans, but Lhyn caught it and gave her a wobbly smile. “It’s the day for miracles, isn’t it? What’s one more?”
“Ready yourselves.” Having been given a path to follow, Salomen was wasting no time. “I’m taking us back to the Phoenix.”
Ekatya had barely processed her words before she fell through the deck and into the vastness of space.
She tried to take in all the details of this extraordinary journey, but it passed too quickly, leaving her with fleeting impressions.
The galactic arm flashing past, a brilliant ribbon of stars she could reach out and touch.
The gleaming hull of her ship rushing toward her.
The glimpse of over one thousand minds, a heaving mass of living, feeling individuals, their emotions creating a beacon in the darkness. Was this what Rahel sensed? No wonder it overloaded her.
A river of emotions rushing over her as she dove through her ship—
“Fucking Hades,” she gasped. “That was intense.”
She was crouched on the deck, head hanging down as she tried to settle her stomach. Her subconscious recognized the smooth surface beneath her boots before her conscious mind caught up. This was the lower display of her bridge, now showing Alsea’s untouched perfection as they kept pace above it.
“I’m sorry.” Salomen was breathless. “I couldn’t protect you the way I did before. Too tired.”
Kneeling beside her, Andira shook her head. “Don’t worry about us. Save your strength for Rahel.”
Ekatya climbed to her feet and examined her body in the command chair. It felt as if she had left days ago, yet nothing had changed.
Standing at the base of the dais was Candini, hands pressed together and held against her lips as she watched Ekatya’s glowing body. She was still in her flight suit, her face cut and bruised and her spiky hair matted with blood. The medbay staff must be overwhelmed to have allowed her to leave in that condition.
Then again, Ekatya thought, she probably hadn’t waited for permission.
“Commander Lokomorra,” she said. “I need to get to Rahel’s surgery bay, but I can’t walk. Have a mobile chair brought and get me there as soon as possible.”
“I’ll get it!” Candini spun around.
“Hold on, First Pilot,” Lokomorra said. “You have no authority here. The medbay staff won’t respond to you.”
“I need to do something!”
“You already have. Now shut up and let me do my job.”
While he called for the chair, Ekatya realized that she’d never had the chance to tell the others why she was in charge of the battle group.
“Andira,” she said urgently. “You need to know. Rahel saved Alsea in more ways than one. Admiral Greve was two pipticks away from removing me from command. Rahel took him out of the equation. She shouldn’t be on this ship.”
Surprise electrified their link as Andira scanned the bridge. “I didn’t notice he was gone. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I was a little busy!”
“What does ‘took him out of the equation’ mean?” Salomen demanded. “Did she—”
“She sedated him.”
“Thank Fahla.” Her head dropped back. “Rahel, you grainbird. Couldn’t you keep out of trouble for five ticks?”
Andira watched Ekatya with a knowing look. “That’s still assault. Against the battle group commander. And she danced off your ship to join Candini?”
“I deported her,” Ekatya said with a shrug.
The tension and exhaustion was affecting both of them. When Andira gave a great snort of laughter, Ekatya had to clench her jaw shut to keep from doing the same.
“You deported her,” Andira gasped. “Goddess above, what a shekking mess. She’ll survive, you know she will, if only to cause me the biggest headache of this entire battle. Vellmar invited slaves home for evenmeal, we’ll have hangers and officers asking for asylum, I
’ll be working day and night for the next moon dealing with captured ships and prisoner transfers, but getting Rahel off this ship will be the worst of all.” She sobered. “Greve will press every button he has to punish her and you.”
“He won’t have the chance.” Lhyn drew Ekatya into her arms and rested her chin atop her head. “You’re done, aren’t you?”
Ekatya nodded, her jaw clenched for an entirely different reason. These were likely the last minutes she would spend on her bridge, and she hadn’t even been in her body for most of them.
The lift doors opened, disgorging two nurses. One guided the mobile chair across the bridge at a jog while the other ran ahead to the dais. To their credit, they only hesitated for a moment upon seeing her glowing body.
“Has anyone touched her?” asked the lead nurse.
Lokomorra rose from his station. “No. Captain—”
“It should be fine. There’s light but no heat. Commander, would you—” She lowered her voice. “I’d rather it be you putting me in that chair.”
“Of course.” He stepped up to her level and carefully touched her hand, testing the contact. “No heat or shocks,” he announced. With gentle movements, he detached her battle harness, slid his arms beneath her, and lifted her out.
The nurse had pushed the chair up the dais and parked it behind him. Lokomorra had only to turn and deposit her, but Ekatya could hardly see through the haze in her vision. She was torn between the physical sensations of her body being handled by two people in two different locations. One surrounded her with comfort and understanding, the other with respect and care—but for all his care, Lokomorra was taking her from the place she loved.
“It’ll be all right,” Lhyn said. “I’m so sorry it’s ending like this, but you have a whole new life waiting. With no Greves or Sholokhovs.”
She nodded and sternly told herself to focus. Rahel’s life was in the balance and she was mourning her damned command chair? Time for that later.
“Let’s go,” she said, extracting herself from Lhyn’s embrace.
The nurses took that as a command, pushing her body down the dais and across the bridge. Candini trotted beside it, while Ekatya led Lhyn, Andira, and Salomen close behind.
Alsea Rising: The Seventh Star (Chronicles of Alsea Book 10) Page 15
