Finest Hour (The Exiled Fleet Book 3)

by Richard Fox

  Tolan was at the end of the short hallway leading to the bridge. He had a pistol trained on Geet, his face blank and nearly featureless. Loussan appeared behind him, a sad look on his face.

  “Drop the axe, buddy,” Tolan said. “Drop it real slow so we can have the most important conversation of your entire life.”

  Geet let the hatchet fall and the blade tip punctured the top of his boot. He knocked the weapon away and fell back on his haunches. When his hand touched Tatiana’s shiv, he tossed it back at Smitty’s body and began whimpering.

  “He didn’t know anything,” Loussan said. “Leave him alone.”

  “He really is as dumb as you say he is.” Tolan shook his head.

  “I didn’t know!” Geet held his hands up in front of his face. “They just…just woke me up and told me to be a good sailor and do what I was told. Tati can be mean if you don’t…just shoot me before the poison gets me, please, sir!”

  “Oh, shut up.” Tolan lowered his gun. “Look at your left forearm. That tattoo of what’s either a guitar or some sort of totemic phallus. See those two little pricks? One’s the tranquilizer that kept you out of the planning sessions. The other’s the antidote to the Lisbon Kiss. You’re fine.”

  “The bad air?” Geet scratched at his arm.

  “I just turned the AC up to max,” Tolan said with a shrug. “That alarm goes off every time. Haven’t had the time to replace the scrubbers or the sensor. I’m not sure which is broken. Anyway. You’re not going to suffocate either. You’re welcome.”

  “I…” Geet scrambled away from Tatiana’s body. “What did I do? She said I—”

  “You…” Tolan put a palm up in front of his face and flipped it to one side. Geet saw a mirror reflection. His skin morphed to match all the tattoos. “You have some serious issues, kiddo. Legit question, did you get some of this ink for losing a bet? I’m just glad I got to keep my shirt on because even I would be embarrassed for anyone to see what’s on your inner thigh.”

  “He borrowed your face for a bit and hid you in one of his many smuggler compartments,” Loussan said. “Then Tatiana pitched her little mutiny idea to the crew. You were never actually approached to join in this plot.”

  “But she said—”

  Tolan—his face still Geet’s—flashed his teeth at the cowering pirate.

  “Loussan,” Tolan said, pinching the bridge of his nose as his countenance reverted to that of a man in his early thirties with thin features, “you’ve quite the mess to clean up. Do gather up all those bodies and dump them in the air lock for a quick-and-dirty void dump. This ship smells bad enough as it is. Leave this one here for a minute while I explain just what his duties on my ship will be from here on out. Yes?”

  “Shame this happened,” Loussan sighed. “What kind of a world do we live in where you can’t trust your fellow pirates?” He grabbed Tatiana and Smitty by the ankles and dragged them away.

  “Now, you, my wonderful little patsy,” Tolan said, squatting down next to Geet. “You and I need to get our stories straight. You were asleep and the head mutineer woke you up and said to come help her take the bridge. You did what you were told and are very sorry you took part in an attempt on my life. Got it?”

  “But Tatiana said I gave her the cipher—”

  Tolan bopped Geet on the top of his head with his pistol. “You were asleep,” Tolan said firmly, “and then—”

  “I don’t know nothing else.” Geet shook his head. “Nothing at all, Master Tolan. Nothing.”

  “There. And to think everyone thought you were a dummy. You can figure things out after a bit. Good news is that you’re on the crew. Bad news is that you’re the lowest rung on a short totem pole. Get out there and clean up the bodies. Then start cleaning everything else. Don’t stop. This place is a pigsty.” Tolan reached into his bathrobe and removed a small metal case. “Shoo. You bother me. I’ve got just enough time for some bliss before we hit Bucky’s.”

  He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and Geet scrambled out on his hands and feet, making it through the door just before it slammed shut. He brushed himself off and looked through the porthole.

  Tolan was in the command seat, his feet kicked up. He pressed a small capsule to his throat and flinched, then his hand fell to one side and his body shuddered. Tolan’s face went soft, collapsing into a mound of putty with an open mouth.

  Geet turned, trying not to retch.

  “Geet!” Loussan called from the lower deck. “Find a mop!”

  “Yes, Captain.” Geet lowered his head and went to work.

  CHAPTER 10

  The moon Isana loomed ahead of the Orion, three ancient craters across the northern hemisphere striking Gage as dead, empty eye sockets forever watching New Madras.

  “Launch drones,” Gage said. “All ships make ready for combat.”

  “Drones away. Batteries report ready,” Price said. “Sixty percent of torpedo tubes are green. We’ve got one volley in the magazines…still waiting on that resupply from the Indus.”

  “I’m sure they’ll have it waiting for us when we return,” Gage deadpanned.

  In the holo, two drone tracks curved around the moon. A cloud of sensor data appeared on the far side, then cut off.

  “If it’s the Daegon,” Price said, “why are they just sitting there? Shall we do a recon by fire? Torpedoes can be sent without active guidance.”

  “We need to shake the tree to see what’s in it, not try and chop it down…bring us around in a wide orbit. The Orion at the fore of the fleet formation. I have a suspicion…” Gage said.

  “Aye aye, we’ll lead from the front on this one.” Price grimaced and the Orion swung around the moon.

  Gage keyed battle stations and waited for the rest of the bridge crew to don their helmets. When they kept looking back at him, not readying for void combat, he grumbled and put his own helmet on first.

  “I tried telling them you want things done the traditional way,” Price said as she slipped her helmet on and sealed it. “But they just don’t listen. Must be something about the Indus system.”

  “Must be.” Gage watched the moon as the Orion came around. A blur formed behind Isana, phantom images of vessels appearing and disappearing. Then the distortion cut out. A massive warship snapped into focus, still surrounded by interference.

  The ship was almost twice as long as the Orion and half again as wide. The maw of a spinal cannon pointed at the Orion and main gun turrets up and down the ship’s hull slewed toward the Albion ships. The red hull gleamed like spilled blood in the system’s starlight.

  Gage froze, caught flat-footed by the dreadnought.

  “Shields, sire?” Price asked, palm poised to slap the emergency activation.

  “They’ve got us dead-bang,” Gage said. “And they’re not Daegon…are they?”

  “That’s…oh no, it’s the Reich,” Price said, her shoulders slumping. “Anyone but them. And now they’re hailing us. Maintain combat alert?”

  “Disperse the fleet and get us out of the line of fire of that spine cannon. If they try and bring it back onto us, activate shields and have your finger ready to fire torpedoes,” Gage said.

  “It’s already there, sire,” Price said.

  “Stop calling me that.” Gage removed his helmet and waved down the rest of the bridge crew as they were about to follow suit.

  Gage ran a hand through his short hair and answered the hail.

  A young man in a slate-gray vac suit, a thin crimson sash over one shoulder and a six-pointed badge on his chest, greeted Gage with a smile.

  “On behalf of Kaiserina Washington the 30th, I greet you in the name of the Reich. I am Under-Duke Klaven, thirty-seventh successor to the throne. My vessel, the Castle Itter, is inviable Reich territory and any assault on her is an assault on the Kaiserina. Do remember this.” He smiled, one cheek marred by a dueling scar.

  Gage’s response caught in his throat. Double-checking the IFF transponder from the ship, he saw the hull markings
…it was indeed the Castle Itter.

  “I am Commodore Gage of His Majesty’s ship Orion. Let us point our guns elsewhere in the name of cooperation, yes?” Gage glanced at Price and she gave orders to the gunnery officer.

  “Of course, of course…you’re not the Gage, are you?” Klaven turned one eye closer to his camera. “Of Volera II fame?”

  “One and the same,” Gage said.

  “Ha! What luck. I always wanted to meet you. Such a maneuver you pulled off against those Harlequins. Did you know we study that battle at the Imperial academy? No, why would you…what is it, Diaz?” Klaven leaned back and looked to one side. “Yes, I was just getting to that. Amusing that we keep picking them up wherever we go.”

  “Duke Klaven,” Gage said, his hand going to the fire controls, anger seething in his heart at the sight of the Reich ship. “you have intruded into Indus space. The use of cloak technology during slip travel is considered a hostile act by the League, and if you don’t drop the rest of your sensor interference, I will—”

  “As you wish,” Klaven said. “After being chased out of Theonis by the Daegon, it seemed prudent to arrive as unnoticed as possible here. But imagine my surprise when an Albion fleet came to say hello. I kept the field up just so as not to spoil the surprise for you. Diaz? Bring her over. Nothing more to hide.”

  The interference around the Castle Itter faded away, and a half-dozen smaller ships materialized slowly in the sensor feed.

  “A red-letter day for you all,” Klaven said. “I for one am glad for your kingdom. Such difficult times deserve victories, even if they’re small ones.”

  “Klaven, what are you getting at?” Gage asked.

  “Sir…look,” Price said.

  In the holo, new IFF transponders pinged from the other ships around the Castle Itter.

  Albion ships.

  “It’s the Sterling…and the Adamant,” Price said. “They’re ships from 2nd fleet!” A buzz rose from the bridge crew as more and more ships became clear.

  “Not just your ships,” Klaven said, raising one hand and stepping aside. A heavyset woman with short hair and wearing an Albion uniform stepped into view. “But I have your Regent, Countess Christina, heir to the Albion throne.”

  Almost as one, the entire bridge and Price looked to Gage.

  “Don’t thank me all at once,” Klaven said.

  “Commodore Gage?” Christina frowned. “Commodore? If I remember correctly, you were Sartorious’ little project. How is it you’re a Commodore? And where is the good Admiral? And why…why are you broadcasting code vermillion in your IFF. That should only be for the Adamant.”

  “My lady…we have much to discuss,” Gage said.

  “Wonderful.” Klaven turned the camera to him. “I simply must insist you come aboard the Castle Itter as my guest. The reunification of Albion forces, such a wonderful moment. I want to see it with my own eyes. Shall we make haste to New Madras?”

  “Allow me to inform Admiral Chadda that…neutral forces are in system. He will decide if a Reich ship can approach his world,” Gage said.

  “Semantics,” Klaven said, waving a hand at him, “but do what you need to. I’ll make things ready aboard the Itter. Arrive at your leisure.”

  The channel cut out.

  Gage stared into the holo tank and lowered his head, touching one brow as a headache formed.

  “Lady Christina.” Price removed her helmet and ran fingers through her hair. “That Lady Christina.”

  “Don’t, Price.”

  “The same Lady Christina that failed out of Sanquay Academy. Twice.”

  “Price.”

  “The Lady Christina that had to be given a merchant marine commission, then called onto active duty by special order of the Admiralty so she could finally hold a navy rank.”

  “I know who she is.”

  “The Lady Christina that misfired a torpedo into the void docks over Uffernau.”

  “The investigation was inconclusive.” Gage felt his headache growing stronger.

  “The same Lady Christina that now thinks she’s the Regent.” Price put her hands on her hips.

  “It will get sorted,” Gage said. “But I need to get over to that Reich ship, no matter how much I’d rather blow it into flames and twisted metal right now.”

  “You don’t care for Klaven?” she asked.

  “The ship. The Castle Itter. She was at the Battle of Turnbull, toward the end of the last war,” Gage said.

  “I don’t understand,” Price said.

  “That’s where my father died. And it was the Castle Itter that killed him.”

  ****

  Gage took a deep breath at the top of the shuttle ramp. Air hissed through the cabin as the atmosphere equalized with the Castle Itter’s bay.

  “Do you ever get tired of this?” he asked Thorvald, who was in his customary place two steps behind him.

  “Formal events are part and parcel of any Genevan’s duties,” Thorvald said. “They will become second nature to you.”

  “Or not,” Gage said. “If Lady Christina…if she is the rightful Regent, then I can bow out of most of the pomp and circumstance. But if she is…”

  “Her reputation is known to Albion’s Genevan guard,” Thorvald said. “We have no preferences. Only the assigned order of succession.”

  “God help us all,” Gage said.

  Red lights activated on the side of the cargo doors and the ramp lowered with a hydraulic hiss.

  Black-armored Reich soldiers were in formation at the foot of the ramp. Larger and more imposing than the Indus troops, the full facemasks and small round mirrors over their eyes erased any sort of humanity from the soldiers. Each carried a heavy rifle slung low across their waist, robotic augmentation to their arms and torsos helping carry the load.

  Klaven was there, along with a rail-thin man in a less adorned uniform and a monocle over a white eye run through by scar tissue.

  Behind them was a Genevan guard, his armor red to match the hull of the ship.

  “Friend of yours?” Gage asked Thorvald.

  “We don’t all know each other,” he said. “And we aren’t all friends.”

  “Let’s get this over with.” Gage started down the ramp and stopped one step short of the ship’s deck.

  Klaven gave him a broad smile, and Gage could see laughter brewing behind his eyes. He looked much younger in person, barely into his twenties.

  “Permission to come aboard,” Gage said evenly.

  “Granted, granted.” Klaven opened his arms wide. “Welcome to the Castle Itter. She’s no Bismarck, but then again, no ship is quite like him.”

  Gage walked off the ramp and set a pace for the shorter Klaven as he walked through the throng of Reich soldiers.

  “It’s enough of a surprise to encounter the Reich in Indus space,” Gage said. “Even more so to see Albion vessels with you…”

  “Yes, perhaps some explanation is in order.” The younger man swept hair back from his face. “There we were, minding our own business in the Theonis system…well, inspecting a number of mining concerns the Reich has. Had.” He waved a hand next to his face and blew a brief raspberry in dismissal. “When out of slip space comes a group of Albion Navy warships. We weren’t overly worried as…well, you must know this ship’s capabilities.”

  Gage glanced at him from the corner of his eye. Did Klaven know what happened to Gage’s father? Was he taunting him?

  “Albion has fought this ship before,” Gage said.

  They walked past rows of Reich fighter craft, matte-red ships with blunt noses and double cannons. Kill markings were stamped to the fuselage—symbols for Indus, Cathay, pirate…and Albion tallies.

  “Oh, do forgive this,” Klaven said, his face going flush. “Heraldry is passed down through our squadrons even when fighters are replaced with newer technology. None of what you see are recent. The Reich and Albion haven’t traded blows for many, many years.”

  Gage kept his face set. This entir
e walk-through was a dominance game by the Reichsman, but calling it out would only diminish Gage’s authority in their eyes.

  “You were saying about Theonis?” Gage asked.

  “Indeed I was. A group of Albion vessels arrived with this…insane story of some sort of a new enemy conquering Coventry and how they managed to escape by the skin of their teeth. I had a hard time believing any of it, but lo and behold, guess who jumped into the system?”

  “The Daegon,” Gage said.

  “The Daegon…such interesting ship construction they have. While Regent Christina blubbered about the massive armada she’d escaped from, what followed through from Coventry did not live up to her story. The Daegon took one good look at my ship…and returned to slip space without a word,” Klaven said.

  “Nothing? No ‘novis regiray’ and demands of capitulation?” Gage asked.

  “It seems you have more experience with these Daegon than I do,” Klaven said. “But Regent Christina,” the Reichsman continued, barely suppressing a laugh, “she requested amnesty aboard my ship. And as she is a head of state…I was inclined to give it. I meant to return to Reich space immediately, but the ley lines have been disrupted. I chose not to risk a hard bore back home—who knows what we would find waiting for us after so long in slip space—and made for this system instead. Seems we beat the Daegon here.”

  Gage’s hands clenched. The Reich and Albion had fought each other over the course of centuries. While both were led by a royal household, the two nation’s internal policies—and their treatment of their neighbors—were diametrically opposed. For Lady Christina to beg for protection from the first Reich ship she came across…the Reichsmen aboard must have been laughing over this for days.

  “Not entirely,” Gage said. “The Daegon have made a number of probing attacks but don’t have a foothold here. We escaped from the enemy at Siam,” Gage said. “Our journey to New Madras was a bit more convoluted.”

  “I’m curious to know more,” Klaven said as they approached a lift. “The Daegon…strike me as being worse than the Mechanix after their last Khan came to power.”