Alsea Rising: The Seventh Star (Chronicles of Alsea Book 10)

by Fletcher DeLancey

  Not bad. If it really did keep Greve away, she’d drink five liters.

  When it was late enough on ship time to qualify as a reasonable hour in Blacksun, she stretched out on the sofa and let herself fall back, drifting through the open door into Lhyn’s mind.

  “Have you moved in?” she asked, looking around at the sumptuous suite that was not theirs.

  Lhyn beamed at her from her seat at the dining table, which bore signs of a recently finished breakfast for three. “My stars and asteroids, I’m glad you’re here! Wow, you look a thousand times better.”

  “I feel a thousand times better. Even more now that I’m seeing you.” She rubbed her chest, where the ache had instantly lessened.

  Salomen turned from where she had been peeling some sort of fruit in the kitchen area. “Ekatya! It’s so good to hear your voice. You’ve been sorely missed.”

  “You can’t see me?” she asked, disappointed.

  “I think we’d need to be Sharing with Lhyn for that. Or I’d need some divine tyree power behind me.” She set down the knife and wiped her hands. “I’m willing, but certain people are adamant that I do nothing more strenuous than drink shannel for the rest of the nineday.”

  “You’re lucky I’m letting you peel that starfruit.” Andira came out of the archway that led to the bathroom and dressing room, already attired for a day in the State House. “Ekatya, welcome back. Salomen speaks truly; it’s wonderful to hear you. None of us relaxed until Lhyn made contact with you.”

  “Especially me,” Lhyn said. “I got more rest after seeing you last night than during my twenty-six-hantick knockout.”

  “I can see that.” Ekatya had already noticed her bright eyes and the lack of lines around her mouth. “You look even more gorgeous. Any chest pain?”

  She shrugged. “Residual. Nothing worth thinking about, especially when I know you’re coming home soon.”

  “Am I?”

  In the kitchen area, Andira accepted a cup of shannel from Salomen and gave her a grateful kiss. “You are. I’m working on it.”

  “Lhyn said you were in negotiations with Sholokhov. Please tell me you’re not letting him use me to get concessions out of you.”

  “I cannot tell you that.” She took a sip and hummed happily.

  “Andira!”

  “What else is she supposed to do?” Lhyn asked. “Leave you in Greve’s clutches?”

  “No, but he has no evidence and no case. It’s only a matter of time before Fleet offers me a compassionate discharge so I’ll go away quietly. I won’t accept unless they drop all charges against Rahel. That will be my price for leaving without kicking up a public cloud of dirt.”

  Andira set down her cup. “Why would you assume this is your problem to deal with?”

  “Because it is! You can’t let Sholokhov soak you for something I can—”

  “Stop right there. Are you under the mistaken assumption that because you’re up there alone, and we’re down here, you’re on your own? Do you truly believe I would leave you to handle this mess?”

  “Oh, Ekatya.” Salomen shook her head. “Think carefully before you answer.”

  “I—no, but—”

  “Good,” Andira interrupted. “Because I will bring both you and Rahel home. I am sick to death of watching you bear the worst burdens and being helpless to do anything about it. I’m not helpless now. I have leverage and I am delighted to use it.”

  “I’m afraid to ask. What are you giving him?”

  Andira picked up her cup and smiled.

  “She won’t tell us,” Lhyn said. “It’s very annoying.”

  “It’s confidential,” Andira corrected. “And delicate at this stage. Sholokhov is pulling levers at Gov Dome. Until he’s done, I cannot speak of it. Not even to you.”

  “Since when do we keep secrets from each other?” It was a low blow, but she was frustrated by her virtual imprisonment and the lack of information.

  “Since it became a negotiation point.”

  “One of your concessions is that you won’t talk to me about your concessions?”

  “Yes.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “I can tell you this much. Sholokhov has a special regard for you.”

  “Sure he does,” she said dismissively. “That’s why he tried to sell me to you for a pack of high empaths.”

  “He feels justified in treating you as he wishes, but no one else is allowed. When I refused to accept your career as an inducement to negotiate, he viewed that as an insult to you. I didn’t value you highly enough. It made him defensive of you.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Like siblings.” Salomen stole Andira’s cup, took a sip, and handed it back. “As children, Herot and I fought and insulted each other on a daily basis. But if anyone outside the family insulted him, I made them sorry for it.”

  “You think Sholokhov views Ekatya through a familial lens?” Lhyn asked.

  “It’s more a sense of ownership, but the psychology is similar. He wants to surprise you with the deal.”

  “Now that I believe. Information is power to him. He always needs to have more of it than me.”

  “Mm.” Andira hummed into her cup. “I think that for once, you might enjoy the surprise. And that’s all I will say.” She set the cup on the counter and straightened her sleeves. “I wish I could stay, but I have a meeting.”

  “About your deal?”

  “Relax, Ekatya. Enjoy not bearing any burdens for a while. Read a good book. It did wonders for me.”

  “How long is a while?”

  “Another day at least. Probably two.”

  “I’ll die of boredom. I don’t even know what’s happening with the Voloth ships! Greve has me in an information blackout.”

  “I can tell you,” Lhyn said. “Sit down and have a virtual cup of shannel with Salomen and me while Andira goes out to save the world.”

  “We already saved the world,” Andira said. “Now we’re saving Ekatya and Rahel.”

  27

  The deal

  It took three days.

  Despite knowing that even three days was the equivalent of light speed when it came to political decisions, Ekatya chafed at the delay. She had gone from nonstop action to a full stop, and the mental whiplash was killing her.

  She considered packing up just to have something to do, but couldn’t bring herself to order the crates. Greve would know and interpret it as a victory. She would rather drop her possessions in orbit and hope they eventually landed than give him the satisfaction.

  Cleaning the quarters, going through her storage, and recycling every unnecessary item left the space sparkling but took less than four hours.

  Reading another book occupied two more hours, until the lead character made a decision so stupid that she couldn’t continue. She had enough of that in real life and refused to subject herself to it in fiction.

  A visit to the Blue Rocket turned out to be a mistake. The bar was full of crew celebrating their victory, but her presence notably reduced the volume. They smiled at her and lifted their glasses in acknowledgment, but she didn’t need to be an empath to feel their awkwardness. She had been removed from command; what were they supposed to say? Not to mention that the last time they had seen her, she had glowed and spoken as Fahla.

  Loathe as she was to admit it, Greve might have a point about Fleet crew serving with her after that performance.

  She finished her drink and went back to her quarters. Better to be alone there than alone in public.

  Visits with Lhyn helped considerably. They took turns at first, but having Lhyn appear in her quarters was like having a visitor in prison. She much preferred taking herself on a virtual outing. On the second afternoon, she found Lhyn in Lanaril’s garden and enjoyed an oddly easy three-way philosophical conversation. Lanaril had begun writing a book after Salomen’s uprising and was newly inspired by recent events.

  “How can you claim Fahla’s involvement when y
ou know the truth?” Ekatya asked at one point.

  Lanaril smiled as she listened to Lhyn repeat the question. “I know a truth,” she answered. “You know another. Are they incompatible? Or are they simply different views of the same thing?” She gestured at the wall of the temple complex rising above them. “We can sit here and claim we see the temple in all its glory. But if we walk around to the front and look up at the grand entrance, we’ll see what appears to be a different building.”

  The choice of illustration gave Ekatya pause. While she had viewed events in orbit, Lanaril had viewed them from the quad on Blacksun Base, where thirty-three divine tyrees generated a visible power that reached orbit.

  We need the seventh star, Ekatya had said when Salomen couldn’t complete the jump. Lhyn had known exactly what she meant by it. But Lhyn had also defined that seventh star as a representation of the divine.

  “There is a touch of the divine in all of us,” Lanaril said at the end of their discussion. “It’s up to us to decide how to use it. Or whether we use it at all.”

  Ekatya thought about security cams that stopped recording and wondered.

  By the end of the third day, she had written a long letter to her grandparents and completed her filings for commendations, award recommendations, and several promotions. The list was nowhere near complete, but without access to battle reports, she could only make recommendations for performances of which she was personally aware.

  With the filings in the ship’s communications queue and the letter to her grandparents saved to her pad, she settled down with a new book and her last bottle of Valkinon. After all, she would have no need to take Alsean wine back to Alsea. Might as well drink it now.

  The bottle was half empty and she was nodding at the lead character’s ruthless but correct decision when the mountain scene vanished off her wall display, replaced by the priority blue emblem and a prompt for her com code.

  “This should be interesting,” she muttered, setting aside her book.

  She transferred the call to the far smaller display at her desk and entered her suspended com code. The emblem shrank, replaced by Director Sholokhov’s com ID. With a tap, she accepted the call.

  “Captain Serrado, this is a true pleasure.” Sholokhov was at his desk, the large window behind him showing nothing but darkness. It seemed the man never went home.

  “Director Sholokhov. I understand you’ve been busy.”

  “Enjoyably so. It’s rare that I’m able to get so many things I want at the same time.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his stomach. “What has Lancer Tal told you of our negotiations?”

  “Only that you’re having them.”

  “She is a woman of her word. Yet she manages to keep that from becoming a liability by choosing her words with great care. It’s fascinating to watch. Do you remember informing me with complete confidence that she would never give me what I asked for?”

  He waited, making it clear that he would not continue until she answered.

  “Yes,” she said shortly.

  He reached offscreen and held up a pad, then tapped a control on his desk. Her display now showed the signature lines of a formal treaty document.

  She recognized Andira’s signature on the first line. Beside it and on the same level was the signature of the President of the Protectorate.

  “Allow me to highlight what Lancer Tal has agreed to.”

  The document scrolled past too quickly for her to read anything until it settled on a numbered list. Only the first two items were visible, but they were enough to elicit an involuntary gasp.

  “She gave you the high empaths and the heavy cruiser?!”

  The text vanished, revealing the most overtly pleased expression she had ever seen on Sholokhov’s face. “Everyone has their price. It’s merely a matter of finding it.”

  “What in all the purple planets was worth that?”

  “What every politician cares about most. Her position. Her power.” He loosened the knot in his scarf of office. “Ahh. The end of a very good day. You’re witnessing the intelligence coup of a lifetime. I’ve found myself contemplating the ironies atop ironies that enabled it. First Guard Sayana was the key, and you’re the one who brought her aboard. You put her in a fighter when she should have been in the brig. Had she returned to Alsea safely, I would have had no leverage. Had she died in that fighter or on the operating table, I would have had no leverage. But Dr. Wells saved her, and that made her a dangerous liability for Lancer Tal. She could not allow us to incarcerate one of the great heroes of that battle. Do you know what else became a liability?”

  Still stunned, Ekatya shook her head.

  “The revolution you started. By the way, I must congratulate you on both your performance and your skillful elimination of any evidence in the security record. Impersonating Fahla was a brilliant strategy, one I would never have thought of.”

  “Thank you,” she said faintly.

  “How did you identify the Political Bureau officers on the Victory’s bridge?”

  This, at least, she was prepared for. She and Andira had concocted their explanation via Lhyn.

  “My bondmate is the best anthropologist in the Protectorate. She’s been working with the Voloth settlers on Alsea and learned about the political officers. She also reads body language like you read a book. She knew those particular officers were unsurprised by Vataka’s statements and angry that he was making them. It was blind good luck that they turned out to be Bureau officers.” As with all good lies, this one was at least eighty percent true.

  “And you had her watching the broadcast while speaking to you on your com. Well planned. Though I suspect you didn’t plan to start a revolution.”

  “I hoped that exposing the Empire’s lies would destabilize its government. An actual revolution went well beyond my expectations.” That was one hundred percent true.

  “And mine, I admit. You’re quite a wild card, Captain. Four and a half years ago, you disobeyed orders and saved the balance of power between the Protectorate and the Empire. This week, you eliminated Admiral Greve to avoid disobeying orders and completely upended the balance of power. The Empire is in shambles. Whatever rises from the ashes will be smaller and weaker than what we faced before. In the meantime, I have a top-of-the-line heavy cruiser in nearly perfect condition, since you never broke its shields. The databanks are full, the technology, weaponry, and engineering are untouched—I even have the personal logs of both the captain and commodore. If the revolution stumbles at any point, I have no doubt the information in those logs will enable me to push it along.”

  He reached up with one hand and drew the scarf from around his neck.

  “Immediately after the surrender, more than half the crews of those ships requested asylum,” he continued, carefully folding the scarf. “The Alsean war council was congratulating itself on procuring not only the ships but also the bodies and skill sets needed to operate them. Within forty-eight hours, the picture had changed.” He set the perfect square on his desk and rested his hands atop it. “No surrendering officer wanted to go back home to be punished, but when the central government collapsed and individual planets began falling to angry mobs, those officers suddenly looked like they were on the right side of justice. The hangers are eager to return as well, either to take part in the revolution or to protect their families and homes from the fallout. The only ones who want to stay are the hangers who don’t have families, and the slaves who don’t have homes.”

  The realization must have shown on her face, given the amused glint in his eyes.

  “Your revolution cost Lancer Tal her crews,” he said. “She has enough for the destroyers. Not for the heavy cruiser.”

  “So out of the goodness of your heart, you offered to take it off her hands.”

  “Of course. Don’t worry, it was a profitable deal on both sides. In exchange, we’re restocking the armories of the Phoenix and providing maintenance for the next three years, by whic
h time the space elevator dock should be able to handle the work. We’ll also restock the Caphenon’s armories when the Alseans raise it.”

  It took her a moment to catch up. He had buried the salient point so smoothly that it slipped right past her.

  “Maintenance,” she repeated. “You traded the Phoenix.”

  “An agreement that makes both parties happy, wouldn’t you say? I have the ship she can’t use. She has the ship she can. Oh, I forgot one detail. During a transition period of one Alsean cycle, we will crew the Phoenix with staff who will train their Alsean replacements.” He paused, clearly enjoying himself. “I stipulated one non-negotiable point. You will remain in command as the first admiral of the new Alsean fleet.”

  She had lost all ability to hide her shock. “Why? Why would you do that?”

  “Because it’s time for you to leave. Your battle strategy this week was nothing short of brilliant. It was also extremely divisive and makes you a liability to the organization. Then there is the issue of Admiral Greve’s charges. They don’t get more serious than usurping command. You and I know the man is a gasbag, but he’s still an admiral. Rank carries weight.”

  “So this is my inducement to leave quietly.”

  He inclined his head. “It would be of great benefit should the separation occur with good feelings on all sides.”

  “I’m going to need more than that.”

  At last the shoe was on the other foot. His eyebrows rose in genuine surprise. “I’ve handed you the perfect solution on a platter, including a promotion to admiral, and you want more?”

  She smiled.

  28

  Breakout

  It was nearing the end of the night shift when Rahel heard a commotion outside her treatment room.

  “Captain, I can’t—you’re not authorized—”

  Her door opened. Captain Serrado was in uniform and exuding confidence as she addressed the security guard outside. “Since when do I need authorization to visit one of my officers?”