Winterhome

by Blaze Ward

  Part Six

  Epilogues

  Epilogue: Keller

  Date of the Republic July 20, 403 IFV Indianapolis, Mansi

  She wouldn’t classify it as definitive, but Jessica was pretty sure that in the final determination of such things, she had broken Buran’s hold on the Altai sector, at the very least. In most battles, you fought for a while and someone fled with some level of damage. Rarely was a ship so badly damaged that it had to surrender, or in the case of Buran, trigger the death charges.

  The Hammerheads had vanished. CS-405 had eventually managed to locate the echo of the three jumps the escorts made to escape the system, but only hours after they had fled. One Mako had made it clear of that final slaughter.

  Nobody had an Energiya module to boost their engines.

  Seeker’s expert opinion was that a Capriole Drive could be accurate to around six light-hours when jumping the maximum range of a half a light year, as opposed to ten light-minutes accuracy when jumping ten light-years that you got with the primary JumpDrives in the aft housing.

  Jessica wasn’t sure which Holding colony the two forces would make for, but they would probably go in two groups. And might run out of food before they got there, depending.

  Even if they didn’t, they would probably be reduced to what Phil Kosnett had done, and navigate to the nearest friendly system and load up on food, and then zigzag their way across the sector. Ninagirsu was slightly closer than Severnaya Zemlya and for a moment, she considered taking half the fleet and hunting them down as a final insult.

  Oh, so tempting.

  But she wanted them to get home. To be able to tell everyone that Keller Marie Jessica had just annihilated an entire battlefleet. Not just beaten them. Crushed them so badly that these ships might be the only survivors. She looked up from her meditations, as the various screens showing her commanders began to come live.

  She was in her flag bridge, across from Enej. The darkness that had cloaked her mind parted and receded, bringing her back to the present.

  She missed having Enej at one corner of a triangle, with Casey at the other, but those days were gone. So many days were gone.

  “That’s everyone,” Enej said in a quiet voice, signaling that all the commanders had joined them on the circuit.

  Enej was one of the few who knew what Moirrey was up to. Why First Expeditionary had pushed so bloody, so hard out here. He could probably sense that they were also close to the end of a chapter.

  If it had worked, Buran himself might be dead by now. If not, he would at least be shaken to his core, and probably withdraw more and more of his forces to protect that inner section of the Protectorate of Man. What she had once told Denis was the yolk.

  Samara would probably be abandoned quickly in that case. It served no useful point, now that Jessica had shown Fribourg that they could just ignore it and strike deep into Altai or Lena sectors instead. And they would.

  There would need to be a new border drawn. With the damage she had done to Buran’s military, their economy, and their psyche, it would not even be the M’Hanii Gulf. No, it would have to be someplace deeper.

  The Holding would have to cede ground, just to hold on for another generation.

  Or face her coming after them with all her avenging angels.

  Because there were probably worse things in the galaxy than Jessica Keller coming after you, but they weren’t survivable, either.

  She found Tom Provst and Larsen Romanov in her display.

  “What’s the final count?” she asked.

  “How greedy are you feeling?“ Romanov replied. “If we go hard and fast, twelve. If we can take our time and expect a couple of failures on the way, twenty-seven, including IFV Rendsburg.”

  She found Reif and watched his eyes flare, but he remained silent.

  “Twenty-seven,” she decided. “The force that would be coming to stop us has been destroyed, and they’ll have to get home and scrape together another one. We have time.”

  “We’ll do you proud, First Centurion,” Romanov said.

  “How’s Valiant?” she asked Tom Provst.

  “Without a full repair facility handy, it would have been much worse,” he said. “And without Tobias Brewster and Vanguard saving our asses like they did, we still might not have made it through.”

  She nodded. About what the reports showed. Every shield had been beaten down by that Megalodon and his consorts. One more salvo and she might have lost Valiant entirely.

  Until the trap had sprung shut.

  The first trap. Followed by the second, the third, and the fourth.

  Buran had just lost a fleet. Gone. And when the survivors got home, Buran himself would lose a lot of people’s will to continue fighting.

  After all, if your god can be beaten so soundly, thrashed so mercilessly, is he really a god?

  And maybe, just maybe, Buran himself was dead right now and The Holding was suffering a serious religious crisis on top of everything else.

  One could hope.

  She took in the rest with a quick scan.

  “My friends, we’re headed home now,” she said. “A great many old warships will come with us. Some of them will probably have to be scrapped when we get there, but they will be brought home as well as all the men we have freed, so they might also become museums to human will. Buran has suffered a great many blows, and it will get worse. We have ended a chapter of this story on an extremely high note, with the twin strikes at Barnaul and Mansi. Now we will return home and plan.”

  She didn’t have much more to say. This had been a stretch goal in her original mission plan to liberate Barnaul. Success had balanced on a knife’s edge to utter failure. They might have even figured out that the dreadnaughts were just that, escorts to Red Admiral Keller, and not her chariot. Indianapolis would have melted under the withering assault that Provst and his men had withstood.

  “Thank you,” she continued, all out of melodramatic epiphanies. “We are all heroes now. Expect sailing orders in eighteen hours, with a planned departure in seventy-two. Let me know if you have any questions or needs.”

  Silence greeted her. She wondered if they understood how momentous this raid had been, in spite of not being told the reasons to push. Many of them had been with her long enough to understand that pushing had to be for some greater reason.

  She cut the line and leaned back. Enej smiled at her, sharing the one secret she could not tell any of the other commanders, beyond Denis and Tom.

  The war itself might be over. Might already have been over, and nobody had gotten a message to them here.

  And if it wasn’t over, then she and Em would have to plan something even bigger. Meaner. Nastier, in order to force that beast back.

  Maybe she would need to revisit some of Yan’s notes on planet-crackers after all. If Moirrey failed, and perhaps died out there, then maybe Winterhome should be turned into her funeral pyre.

  Jessica smiled and felt Kali-ma smile as well.

  Epilogue: zu Arlo

  Imperial Founding: 181/07/25. Fort Kosnett, Lighthouse Station

  The sun was just coming up over the ridge of mountains that defined the bowl in which Vo had set down his forward training base. Separated it from the rest of Lighthouse Station. Vo leaned against a split-rail fence and let the coolness of the night air wash over him, a mug of fresh coffee steaming when he opened the lid to sip.

  Morning. A fresh start. Today, he would finish delivering the stolen equipment from Barnaul that would begin making buildings and roads and ports, up the coast in the new city of Commencement.

  Already, boats were being constructed that could take men and women out into the harbor and the warm, shallow seas beyond, to start catching enough fish to offset supplies from Packmule. Others would be striking up the coast and inland to establish claims for farmland that would eventually become homes.

  Assuming Buran didn’t find them anytime soon, this would become a place in another decade. He would have to come ba
ck and see what this new Duke had done with it.

  Footsteps behind him as the light began to wax a powerful red.

  Vo recognized the tread without looking, but he wasn’t worried. Cutlass Ten was awake. If he had added thermal scanners to his morning, they were probably all within fifty meters of him, quietly lurking in the dark.

  And Vo was just as armed as those men and women, in event of trouble. Because that was what the 189th Legion did: handled trouble.

  “Hello, Alan,” he said quietly as the man joined in at the fence, a newly-stolen mug from somewhere in his hand. This one was from a public broadcast radio station in Barnaul.

  Vo wondered if Alan even realized how frequently he walked off with coffee mugs.

  “Morning, Vo,” Alan said, falling in beside him.

  They stood in silence for a few minutes as the sun slowly rose.

  “I’ve been wondering,” Alan finally spoke.

  Vo would have outwaited him. And they both knew it.

  “We need to update the Grand Admiral and the Crown with all the crazy shit we’ve just done. We’re not sure what Keller’s schedule is, and if she’s really successful, I don’t expect her to fly here first, but pass Osynth B’Udan before bringing us out folks, plus whoever else zu Wachturm can round up.”

  “You haven’t asked a question yet, Alan,” Vo noted.

  Alan could be like that. Start a conversation on paragraph three, jump to paragraph eight, and then call it good.

  “I’ve got the men in hand here,” Alan said. “And the colonists. Can you think of a reason you shouldn’t be the messenger?”

  That was Alan. Oblique approach to the topic. Then pop out sideways on you with a smile.

  Vo checked. The man was grinning in the morning sun.

  “Any excuse to get rid of me?” Vo grinned back.

  “Absolutely,” Alan laughed. “Boxing Day is coming up and I plan to install Ames as Legate for a day. Or maybe a week. Infect her with it now, so we can send her off to officer school soon and upset the Grand Marshal’s apple cart all the more.”

  “And you think I’m hiding out here?” Vo leaned the conversation around to the point Alan was really making. They had grown to know each other too well. Possibly even become friends.

  It was a strange, novel feeling.

  “Nope,” Alan sobered, but continued to smile. “Pretty sure I already know the answer, because otherwise you would have gone back to the day you first met Rohm. Dark and malevolent. You’re smiling too much these days, so you’ve made peace with yourself. You just don’t want to have to go back and give all this up. Can’t say I blame you, but we all have jobs to do. And this is the one you are uniquely suited to handle.”

  There was a kernel of truth to his words. Vo had to grant him that.

  He had decided he could step into the air from the side of the chasm, hoping that the air would hold him up. But everything would change.

  Vo Arlo, as he had come to define himself previously, would vanish, and he would have to invent a whole new place. And do it in the company of a woman who was not a complete stranger, but not a close friend, either.

  She had spoken of the corset of Imperial responsibility. Jessica had mentioned that phrase in describing Casey’s new world, after she had been forced to give up her dream of being a Command Centurion.

  General zu Arlo, Legate zu Arlo, would face that same level of sacrifice, but it would open many other doors, and he could indeed make the galaxy a better place.

  He just had to step out into clear air.

  Or be pushed by a man who was his friend.

  “You’ll have to give up First Cohort,” Vo teased the man lightly.

  “Oh, I doubt she’ll move that quickly,” Alan countered with a grin. “Looks much better to leave you in command, at least until you’re both ready to make that step. I got a few years left to play.”

  Vo nodded. The Fribourg Empire was a traditional, deliberate place. He probably would remain in position until things got more formal, and then retire to some sort of Imperial Consort job. Whatever they called it, in a place where none of them had ever imagined going before.

  At least he would only have one responsibility. Well, two, but the Empire itself was represented in the woman he would be protecting. If he took care of her, everything else would take care of itself.

  He turned back and watched the sun complete its path to clear the mountain. The day promised heat at this latitude. Clear skies that would favor landing DropShips and moving heavy equipment around to get a really good start on building a new future.

  Because that’s what he was facing. And Alan. And Victoria Ames.

  And Casey.

  A new future.

  Epilogue: Wiegand

  Imperial Founding: 181/09/20 Lake Zurich Starport, St. Legier

  The last bits of summer were just beginning to wane. The first dribbles of the rainy season would start up again in a few weeks. At least they would have on a normal world. St. Legier still hadn’t found its soul in the aftermath of such devastation, so Casey couldn’t say definitively what the winter would be like. Hopefully calmer than the previous two.

  She would like a quiet time to sit by the fire and sip hot chocolate.

  And get to know the man standing on her right as Vo smiled back at her.

  Casey had put her foot down hard at the suggestion that they build a formal reviewing stand and make today a major spectacle. From the way the whites showed in his eyes, Casey suspected that Hendrik Baumgärtner had never seen her truly as close to losing her temper as she had gotten.

  But he had acquiesced gracefully enough. He looked almost out of place in his best dress Whites, standing on her other side at attention, but she wouldn’t tweak the man any more than she had.

  Hendrik had been on his own, handling the entire Imperial Staff while Em was forward at Osynth B’Udan. At least now he could relax, with Em returning today.

  Casey watched the courier ship land from the shade of an awning that deployed outward from the side of a hangar. They hadn’t repainted the vessel from the days when a young Princess Kasimira had established the color scheme, but it wasn’t her ship anymore.

  Still, it was bringing home the greatest prize she could imagine.

  Casey glanced at Vo, caught the faint smile on his lips and in his eyes as he grinned down at her. Torsten was beyond Vo, with Cameron Lara beyond that. A few other naval officers of various ranks and stations attended her, but Casey was wearing comfortable clothes today, and nothing silly and formal. She had almost dug out her Centurion’s uniform, but settled for slacks and a pullover tunic Vibol had supplied for relaxed days around the palace.

  After all, the celebrations could happen tomorrow. Or next week.

  Not today.

  As the engines shut down, Casey started walking forward. She nearly laughed when she realized that only Vo had kept up with her, the rest apparently expecting her to wait in state for the passengers to call upon her.

  Or some stupid silliness. Only her bodyguards hadn’t been fooled.

  And her love.

  By the time the hatch opened and the steps deployed, the rest of the officials had straggled along like ducklings.

  Moirrey emerged first with a smile as wide as sunrise on her face.

  “Hiya,” she said.

  Any other words were lost when Casey engulfed the much-smaller woman in a tremendous hug and just held her like the world was ending.

  Right now, it didn’t matter if they had been successful or not. Moirrey was safe. Casey was already planning a slumber party with a lot of wine, just to hear all the stories, before everything got filtered through official reports that left out all the juicy bits.

  “T’were a team efforts, ya knows,” Moirrey murmured.

  “Whatever,” Casey said, but she relented her deathgrip and let Moirrey step to the side and around to wave everyone else out.

  Even if they both kept an arm around the other.

  Ainsl
ey Barret came next, holding hands behind her with Yan Bedrov. That kept her a beat slow in reacting. Or she never expected to get an Imperial Hug.

  Tough.

  Bedrov was next, followed by Summer Ulfsson and Pops. Uncle Em. Gunter Tifft came last, and he had apparently steeled himself to be physically assaulted by his sovereign lord. The others, the engineering staff, would remain aboard the ship for now, or they might have also been in line, but she would have a special reception for those men later. A public thing where they could be fêted in style.

  This was a day for her friends.

  Fribourg had never been a place for physical affection, but Casey was in charge now, and she could change things, however slowly that might happen.

  “Thank you again,” Casey said to the assembled group.

  They were still finding their land legs, obviously, so Casey led them back to the hangar where she had originally waited.

  Inside, a small conference room served her needs today, as she managed to cram all seven of the travelers in, along with Hendrik, Torsten, Cameron, and Vo. The guards along the walls didn’t count.

  Everyone sat and smiled at each other.

  “I have, obviously, only heard unofficial rumors, because your courier was faster than any other news home,” Casey began. “Did it work?”

  She was looking at Moirrey, so she was surprised when Pint-sized turned her attention to Commander Tifft. All the others did as well. But that made sense. It had been necessary to make it Tifft’s mission. The others could help, at least in the official histories, but an Imperial Officer needed to be the Godslayer. Hopefully, the man would survive the adulation and attention that came with it.

  She would need to marry him off to a well-connected family, and do so soon, to show him how much she appreciated his service. And there were Duchies available, where he might marry an only or eldest daughter.

  In a generation, Avelina Indovina as Duke in her own right would sway some minds, but that was a battle for another day.