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

by Fletcher DeLancey

  There was a long pause. “You’re not in command, Captain. She’s being transferred to the brig tomorrow.”

  “So? She has a right to visitation regardless of location. My suspended command doesn’t suspend my access to public areas of the ship, of which this is one. Do you have a legal reason to deny both of us our rights?”

  “No, Captain,” came the subdued answer.

  “Then I’ll be inside.” She stepped in and closed the door. The authority crackling around her shifted to delight as she met Rahel’s eyes. “You look much better than the last time I saw you.”

  Rahel put a fist over her heart and bowed her head. “Captain Serrado, well met. I heard you were recovered, but it’s nice to see it for myself.”

  “I feel the same about you.”

  “When did you last see me?” she asked curiously.

  “Two days after your surgery. You were asleep.”

  “I’ve been sleeping a lot. Dr. Wells says it’s normal, but I’m sick of it.” She indicated the mobile chair beside her bed. “And ready to walk more than fifty paces.”

  “Typical warrior,” Serrado said with a grin. “Lives through a miracle and complains about how long it took.”

  “I don’t complain around her—”

  “That’s not what I heard.”

  “—much,” she finished.

  Serrado laughed. “The truth comes out,” she quipped, looking Rahel up and down. “How badly do you want to get out of that medshirt?”

  “Before today, I’d have paid for the opportunity. Now that I know I’ll be wearing a brig shirt tomorrow, I’m not so eager.”

  “No, I wouldn’t think so. Brown would look terrible on you. I’ve arranged to have your uniform brought instead.”

  “Um. I appreciate the thought, but I can’t wear it. Commander Cox said he didn’t like it any more than I do, but he doesn’t have a choice.”

  She leaned over and spoke quietly. “You won’t be here tomorrow to wear a brig shirt. I’m breaking you out.”

  “You’re—Captain,” Rahel said with a sinking heart. “Don’t get into trouble for me. This is temporary. Lancer Tal won’t let the Protectorate take me.”

  “No, she won’t, because I’m taking you to Blacksun.” Serrado held up a hand, stopping the next objection. “You’ve trusted me this far. I’m asking you to trust me now. It’s going to be all right.”

  There was no dissonance of untruth. Whether justified or not, Captain Serrado believed her words.

  “I trust you.”

  The satisfaction spreading across her emotional signature had an oddly sharp edge. “Good. You won’t regret it, I promise.”

  Rahel looked toward the door as another familiar signature approached. “Dr. Wells is coming.”

  “Right on time.”

  Aghast, she blurted, “She’s involved, too?”

  “I remember when you first came on board,” Serrado said conversationally. “The one area where Commander Cox consistently said you needed improvement was working as part of a team. You’ve made admirable progress in that.”

  “I—thank you, but—”

  Serrado watched Dr. Wells come through the door, a large medkit in hand. “Your team is here,” she said. “We look after our own. Good timing, Alejandra. Have any difficulties?”

  “None.” Dr. Wells set her medkit on the counter and opened it. “Let’s get you into proper clothes.” She produced a roll of cloth and held it out.

  “My uniform.” Rahel ran her palm over the soft Alsean material and blinked back the sudden moisture in her eyes. She looked up at the two officers with their matching smiles and no longer cared whether this was doomed to fail. If it did, she would go down in uniform, supported by her oath holder and her friend.

  She still had to be careful sitting up and moving to the edge of the bed. Once there, she could dress herself with only a few twinges. Dr. Wells had even brought fresh undergarments from her quarters, which felt divine after days of baggy medbay clothing. She had just sealed her jacket when her boots were presented, clean and polished.

  “What else do you have in there?” she joked, gingerly bending to pull on the first boot.

  “Finish dressing and you’ll see.”

  Such happy excitement was a marked contrast to her friend’s moods since the battle. She secured the second boot and rose with an expectant grin. “I’m ready.”

  The grin dropped at the sight of her stave in its holster. “Oh,” she whispered. No other words would come through the blockage in her throat.

  “I would never have let it come to harm,” Captain Serrado said. “I put it in my bridge console for safekeeping. When Greve locked me out of the bridge, I asked Dr. Wells to take care of it.”

  “Commander Lokomorra passed it to me,” Dr. Wells said. “It’s been in my quarters for the past three days. I have your uniform from the fighter, too. Candini remembered that you’d brought it with you and went looking for it.”

  “Is this—?” She swept a hand down her body.

  “The same one? No. I wasn’t sure you’d want to wear it, given what happened. But I had it cleaned just in case. Your seat was torn to shreds, but the storage compartment was unscathed.”

  “My good luck charm. That’s what Candini thought it was when she saw it.” Rahel clipped the holster onto her belt and felt whole for the first time since waking after surgery. “If I’m going to Blacksun, then I can see her and tell her to stop feeling guilty. She keeps sending apologetic messages, but I can’t get her on the com.”

  “Candini is the reason you’re alive,” Serrado said. “We were seconds away from ending the link when she alerted me to your situation. If Salomen had broken that link, she couldn’t have made the jump again.”

  “Fahla was watching over you.” Dr. Wells brought the mobile chair around. “Hop in.”

  “Are we going to the shuttle bay? I can walk to the lift.”

  Dr. Wells merely waited.

  Sighing, she sat in the hated chair. “You’re only drawing this out because it’s your last chance.”

  “Is that what you think? I’m coming with you. Someone has to get you settled in the healing center.”

  “Let’s go.” Serrado opened the door and walked through.

  “Captain—oh, no, you can’t do that.”

  Rahel recognized the officer stepping forward, distress rising off his skin. She had worked well with DeValle during her cycle in security.

  “Don’t make me call Commander Cox,” he pleaded. “I hate this, too, but I have my orders.”

  “I know you do,” Captain Serrado said calmly. “Go ahead and call him.”

  Rahel tried not to show her surprise. Cox was involved as well?

  DeValle stepped away to make the call, never taking his gaze off the captain. He returned with a looser posture and a much lighter emotional signature. “I don’t know what’s going on, but Cox said you’re cleared to proceed to the shuttle bay and my duty shift here is ended.”

  “Thank you. My apologies for the difficult position Greve put you in. You handled it with competence and respect. Have a good night.” Captain Serrado nodded at him and walked past.

  “Are you going home?” DeValle whispered.

  “Looks like it. Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck, Red. Don’t catch any more sabots.”

  Rahel shook his hand and settled back in the chair, feeling far more optimistic about this adventure.

  They crossed the lobby to the lift with no further challenges, only cheery farewell waves from the nurses at the main desk.

  “Shuttle bay,” Captain Serrado said.

  With her command suspended, she should not have been able to order the lift to a restricted area. Which meant Commander Zeppy must have overridden the restrictions. Were there any section chiefs not taking part in this?

  The lift doors reopened onto a nearly silent shuttle bay. No shuttles were in operation, and normal maintenance was a day shift job. The night shift staff were
all in the office, two levels up.

  “Captain,” Rahel said as they passed behind the nearest shuttle. “Do you think it will be possible to get a few more things from my quarters at some point? I can’t bear the thought of leaving Mother’s sculpture behind, or my wooden daggers.”

  “I promise that you won’t lose anything,” Serrado said. “Your quarters are locked down. Not even Greve can get in.”

  That was baffling. “I thought he was conducting an investigation?”

  “He was. That’s been suspended.”

  “Just like your command,” Dr. Wells observed, to the vast amusement of both officers.

  “No, much better than that. I don’t do things half-assed.” Serrado pulled a pad from her sleeve pocket, gave it a few taps, and handed it to Rahel. “Hold this, please.”

  She rested the pad in her lap and decided she was better off not asking.

  The shuttle bay had never seemed so large as they made their way across. Of course Serrado’s preferred Alsea-capable shuttle was as far as possible from the lift. Worse, no one seemed to share Rahel’s sense of urgency. Dr. Wells strolled along as if they were out for a walk on Deck Zero, and Captain Serrado was looking at every part of the bay as if committing it to memory.

  Because that was exactly what she was doing, Rahel realized with a jolt. There was no coming back from this. Dr. Wells had already made her decision to leave Fleet, but had Captain Serrado decided to run rather than fight?

  She faced forward, thinking furiously. Maybe this was Lancer Tal’s plan. Rather than embroil the Alsean government in a political showdown, she was quietly slipping Rahel off the Phoenix and taking Captain Serrado with her. After all, they had five Voloth ships now. Captain Serrado could take over the heavy cruiser and lead the new fleet.

  The more she thought about it, the more sensible it seemed.

  They reached the shuttle with no cries of “Stop!” coming over the bay com, no sound of running footsteps, no alarms of any kind. Rahel began to believe they might depart without fanfare.

  “I can go from here,” she said as Captain Serrado lowered the shuttle ramp. “Besides, it’ll be easier for you to push the chair up without me in it.”

  “How considerate.” Dr. Wells walked around to stand in front of her. “For such a terrible patient. Tell me, is it true that one of my nurses found you hanging from the overhead bar in your treatment room?”

  “Um. You said it was for physical therapy. To increase my upper body strength.”

  “To shift your weight and position in bed, not to swing from!”

  “I wasn’t swinging! There wasn’t any room to swing.” Why were they talking about this instead of getting the shek out of here?

  “And that’s the real reason I want to get her to Blacksun,” Dr. Wells confided to the captain. “Surgery I can handle. Physical therapy with an Alsean warrior? Not even Fahla has that much patience.”

  Rahel didn’t hear the lift doors open over the sound of their chuckles. But she certainly heard the shout.

  “Serrado! You’re not going anywhere!”

  Multiple emotional signatures registered on her senses. She counted six before they came into view, including two she wished she didn’t recognize.

  Admiral Greve strode in front of Commander Cox and four security officers, his face reflecting the triumph that oozed from his skin. “Thank you for being so predictable,” he said. “I knew you’d try something like this. You’ve put yourself in the shit this time.”

  Serrado’s emotions were not at all what Rahel expected. She wasn’t afraid, worried, or even regretful. She was blazing with ferocious joy, a warrior finally facing the battle she had itched to fight.

  “What is it you think I’m trying?” she asked, her calm voice belying the hurricane roiling the air.

  “Seeders preserve us, you really are that arrogant. You’re caught, Serrado. The ship’s computer was programmed to notify me if you took Sayana out of her treatment room or ordered the lift to the shuttle bay. Imagine my lack of surprise to learn you’d just done both.” His smile was vicious. “You know what the best part is? I didn’t have much evidence of your scheme with her before. Now I do. You’re finished.” He turned to the officers. “Take Captain Serrado back to her quarters and post a twenty-four-hour guard. And take Sayana straight to the brig. She doesn’t need another night in the medbay.”

  “Belay that order,” Serrado snapped.

  The guards stopped mid-step, looking warily between the two ranking officers.

  “You do not take your orders from her!” Greve shouted.

  “Actually, they do.” Cox was enjoying this almost as much as Serrado, though his face was impassive.

  Greve rounded on him. “Don’t link your shuttle to the wrong ship, Commander.”

  “Phoenix,” Serrado said. “Respond on the shuttle bay com. Who holds command of this ship?”

  The computer’s voice resounded through the empty bay. “The Phoenix is commanded by Captain Ekatya Serrado.”

  Greve froze in disbelief, then broke loose with a jolt of rage. “Since when?” he snarled. “I don’t believe this. You’ve manipulated the ship’s records.”

  “Oh, no,” Serrado said in a dangerously soft voice. “I haven’t done anything with the ship’s records. That’s your game, not mine.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I believe that’s my cue.” Commander Cox held up a pad, open to a document with the words Department of Justice emblazoned across the top. “This is a report detailing your violations of the rights and protections guaranteed to all members of Fleet. I compiled it after accessing your file space on the ship’s computers.”

  Greve’s face drained of color, a counterpoint to the shock vibrating through his emotions.

  “It’s my experience that someone who abuses power doesn’t stop with legally sanctioned abuse,” Captain Serrado said. “You had access to all security records with me in them. Those records included private and confidential conversations with members of this crew. You were obligated to delete them once you determined they had no bearing on my tyree bond or my relationship with Lancer Tal.” She stepped forward, closing the space between them. “I suspected you couldn’t resist keeping anything you thought might be useful. Or titillating.”

  The four watching security officers moved toward Greve, cutting off any avenue of escape.

  Not that he was capable of running, Rahel thought scornfully. She was recovering from impalement and could probably still outrun him.

  Greve’s eyes shifted rapidly as he assessed his options. Unsurprisingly, he went for bluster. “Whatever you think you found in a search of my private files, you’ll get nowhere with it. You didn’t have probable cause. That search was illegal.”

  “You should be more aware of the laws you’re breaking,” Cox remarked. “Members of Fleet have no constitutional protections against warrantless searches of their workplace. They do have protection against searches of their private files, if those files are kept off the military installation. You’re on a ship, Admiral. Using ship’s resources to store your illegal records. Even if you tried to argue that they’re still somehow protected, I have a warrant. What I found in your office was more than enough probable cause.”

  “Who did you get to push that warrant through, some ensign at Fleet Justice? I am an admiral. You’ve overreached.”

  “It wasn’t an ensign.” Captain Serrado held out her hand. “Rahel, the pad?”

  She had forgotten all about it. Now wildly curious, she placed it in the captain’s palm.

  Serrado activated the virtual screen, showing a call in progress. “Director Sholokhov, have you heard enough?”

  “Heard enough and read enough. This is quite a list, Commander Cox. And some very interesting footage.” Sholokhov set a pad on his desk with a decisive click. “Admiral Greve, I’ve been many things in my life. An ensign was never one of them.”

  Rahel had never seen anyone turn quite that shade
of green.

  “Director Sholokhov.” Greve’s voice was weak. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Don’t bother. I deal in information, and you have nothing to offer me. False protestations of innocence and piles of frantic lies don’t qualify. As you so eloquently said to Captain Serrado, you put yourself in this shit.”

  “But I—”

  “Commander Cox, take Greve into custody. I’ll send a shuttle to collect him. He can wait in the brig.”

  “Yes, Director.”

  “Now wait a damned minute!” Greve stabbed a finger toward Rahel. “That woman attacked me on the bridge and she’s been treated like royalty. Serrado ordered it, you know she did, and she wasn’t even confined to quarters. You have no right to put me in the brig!”

  “I have no right?” Sholokhov repeated. “Are you suddenly concerned about rights now? You’re late to the party.” A smile thinned his lips. “Rahel Sayana did not attack you on the bridge. I saw that footage. She laid you down as gently as a lover.”

  “Gah,” Rahel said involuntarily.

  Beside her, Dr. Wells muffled a laugh.

  “I’ve also seen footage of her in an actual attack. I assure you, what she did to you wasn’t even close.” Effortlessly dismissing him, he turned to Serrado. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Captain. While I have you on the com, there’s one more thing I couldn’t tell you before. The authorization came in after our call. You’re being awarded the Presidential Medal of Galactic Service.”

  That had not been in the plan, Rahel knew. The captain was dumbfounded.

  Greve made a strangled sound, his shock shading to loathing.

  “The Protectorate is sorry to lose you to the Alseans, but I’m certain you’ll serve them with as much distinction as you did us. As a parting gesture, the President is pleased to bestow the highest award in his power. Are you familiar with the requirements?”

  She nodded, apparently incapable of speech.

  “I’m not,” Rahel said.

  His intense stare swung to her. “No, you wouldn’t be, would you? It’s the greatest honor a Protectorate citizen can receive. The requirements are such that only a handful have ever been given out. The Medal of Galactic Service is given for acts of such valor, distinction, or importance that they impact the course of history. It’s difficult to imagine an act more impactful than instigating a revolution across the entire breadth of the Voloth Empire. Captain Serrado has made quite a mark on history. I hope she’ll continue to do the same for your government.” He turned back to Serrado. “Am I correct in assuming you won’t want to return to Gov Dome for the ceremony?”