Duchess of Terra (Duchy of Terra Book 2)

by Glynn Stewart

  “Karaz Forel is dead,” the Indiri echoed. “Strange.”

  “Strange?”

  “He has spent long-cycles upon long-cycles in dark currents, smearing the House’s name, and yet it is still sad to lose family,” Shaza Forel said slowly. “These are not the tides I would have expected upon learning of his death.”

  “Across all species, family has strange bonds,” Annette agreed.

  “Can you prove Karaz’s death?” Forel asked. “It is important.”

  “James?” Annette looked at Wellesley.

  “I’ll have to double-check,” her Guard commander admitted, “but we should be able to pull the helmet footage from the boarding team when we hit Subjugator. That should allow you to verify his death.

  “Plus, well, we blew Subjugator to hell afterward,” the Colonel continued. “Even if he somehow survived thirty or so bullets to the torso, he was vaporized then.”

  “Please forward me this footage,” Shaza Forel requested. “It is important,” she repeated. “I must speak with the rest of the delegation, Duchess Bond. Please stay the currents of your decision until we meet in the morning.

  “This news may change the tides of our offer.”

  #

  Chapter 30

  Annette found her advisors in Zhao’s office, since it was the only one in the building fully set up. Being the man in charge of the renovation team had its privileges.

  Said privileges also apparently resulted in donuts in his office, which Annette was not complaining about. She grabbed one of the pastries and pulled up one of the chairs, eyeing the four men waiting for her.

  Elon looked…patient. He knew her well enough to know he was going to get his answer, so he was going to wait for it.

  Villeneuve looked amused. He’d obviously managed to put together just where the money was coming from, and found the whole thing entertaining.

  From the confused and stressed expression on Zhao’s face, however, the Admiral hadn’t decided to share. Away from the Indiri delegation, the Chinese man had let much of his rigid self-control go, and he was leaning on his desk, eating a donut while looking absolutely shattered.

  “Would someone care to explain to the poor bastard in charge of the Duchy’s finances how we are paying for this?” he asked as he finished his snack and leaned on his hands. “I’ve just about run out of energy after this morning’s seizure, so some reassurance would be helpful.”

  “Can we make the deposit?” Annette asked. “Everything else is coming out of my personal resources, but I don’t have the cash on hand, so I can’t make the deposit.”

  “We’ll be robbing Peter to pay Paul until the next stipend payment comes through from the Imperium, but yeah,” Zhao confirmed. “Probably easiest to borrow renminbi or US dollars from somebody and promise repayment in marks. That hideous staged exchange rate will make that a good deal for any bank paying attention.”

  “Shame we can’t do that to buy ships,” Villeneuve noted. “Well, except from Nova, anyway.”

  “If you try and pay me in renminbi for Imperial-grade warships, you won’t like my exchange rate,” Casimir warned. “Since the Admiral is clearly keeping your secrets, my dear Duchess, would you care to explain to the class where you got the money for a dozen battleships…and where it’s hiding that you don’t have it on hand?”

  “You were all briefed on how Operation Privateer ended,” Annette replied. “Forel tried to pull me into his conspiracy to start a war with the Kanzi with miniaturized starkiller weapons. We short-circuited the conspiracy, destroyed their research, then self-destructed the weapons.

  “In exchange, I got the Duchy.”

  Zhao and Elon were nodding, following on so far.

  “What Jean was briefed on, but you weren’t, was the entirety of our Operation Privateer activities,” she continued. “Forel tried to recruit me via bringing us in for the biggest pirate raid in recent history.

  “We cleaned out an entire Imperial Navy logistics base, but the rest of the raiding fleet turned on me when Forel and I disagreed on whether or not to massacre the base crew.”

  She shrugged with a sigh and an uncomfortable memory.

  “Since the only people who lived, lived because we saved them, we got credit for saving them and Forel got blamed for all of the deaths, including the ones we caused,” she explained. “My crew and I were also formally pardoned for our crimes.”

  “That’s where the prisoners and cargo ships you sent back to Sol came from, wasn’t it?” Elon asked.

  “Yes. Two automated transports of rescued slaves and three of military cargo,” she confirmed, thinking for a moment. “What happened to the cargo ones?” she asked.

  “The Weber Network managed to seize them and hide them,” Elon told her.

  “They didn’t get turned over with everything else,” Villeneuve replied. “Really? The Network got them?”

  “Yeah,” Annette’s lover confirmed. “If they didn’t get turned over, then Anderson has them.”

  “That is going to be a headache,” she said quietly.

  “What everyone, including the Imperium, seems to have forgot is that we loaded everything else at that base onto another forty transports and sent them to Tortuga.”

  Tortuga, the nickname Annette had hung on an alien station whose A!Tol name was barely pronounceable to humans, was the main pirate base in the region, run by a group of exiles from a Core Power. Tortuga’s Laian Crew were the source of Tornado’s advanced technology, and they also were the enforcers of contract law aboard the station.

  “Our agent there received and managed the cargo for us,” she concluded. “He’s been carefully laundering and transferring the money to me bit by bit, much of which has gone on to Tornado’s crew. My share was enough for that apartment Zhao found, and we’ve moved a miniscule fraction of the total amount.”

  “Are we certain it will be enough?” Zhao asked slowly. “I’m not sure what our penalty clauses are going to be, but if we don’t have enough ships for the Navy…”

  “We start losing our independence, one small chunk at a time,” Annette agreed. “I got a confirmation on the amount from our agent this morning. It’s enough.

  “We’ll need to send Tornado to retrieve the money, though,” she noted. “No other ship will be allowed to approach Tortuga. I think Wellesley and Kurzman should be able to get it done.”

  “Does your fierce English bodyguard know he’s being sent away?” Elon asked.

  “Not yet. He’ll cooperate, though. He was SSS—they interpret orders, but they don’t disobey them.”

  “We’ll continue refitting the destroyers while we wait for the battleship delivery,” Elon noted after a moment’s thought. “The original BugWorks slips won’t work for the Empress A!Anas, anyway. Too small.”

  “Having the destroyers as Buckler deployment platforms, if nothing else, will be useful,” Villeneuve pointed out. “Once they’re fully upgraded, they’ll be a nasty surprise for anyone who isn’t expecting them, too.”

  “So, does anyone have any new concerns or objections?” Annette asked. “I’ll talk to Wellesley; we’ll have Tornado underway by morning. That only leaves us Washington and Beijing for security until either Tornado returns or the first wave of destroyers finishes their refit. What’s our timeline on that, Jean, Elon?”

  “Two more weeks,” Elon responded instantly. “We’ve loaded the software for the Sword and Buckler systems into the current destroyer’s computers, so Lougheed and Sade are running their crew through training drills for the gear.”

  “With our recruiting of ex-UESF personnel, we currently have both Washington and Beijing running with almost fifty percent excess crew,” Villeneuve told them. “Once the fully updated ships become available, we’ll transfer those crews and have four ships with crews where roughly three-quarters of the personnel are mostly trained.

  “Four fully updated City-class destroyers, backed by the defense platforms and the constellations, should be able to
hold off any small-scale incursion.” The Admiral shrugged. “Any large-scale attack, we would need Imperial help for, regardless of Tornado’s presence.”

  “My only real concern,” Elon noted, “is the price we’re being asked for.” He shook his head. “These are used ships they’re refurbishing for us, but the price tag… I did my research, Annette. We’re basically being charged the price of new-build modern battleships for obsolete trash.”

  “I know,” she agreed. “I suspect the direction for that came from the Imperium. They’re still trying to force us to sell the compressed-matter technology—with the mandate for us to provide a capital echelon nine months from now, they have us over the barrel and they know it.

  “The frustrating part is that even if we pull this off, which is looking likely, it’s not like the Imperium loses,” she said with a sigh. “Either way, they’ll be able to buy compressed-matter armor for their ships in the medium term. And if we build it, their newest annexation is even more economically valuable to them than hoped.

  “They still win.”

  “It’s not entirely to our disadvantage to be wrapping our upgrades around an older ship, though,” Elon pointed out. “Assuming they do upgrade them with modern weapons.”

  “It’s not in the Deep Houses’ interest to short us on the refurbishment. Their reputation is built on the quality of their work and product,” Annette told him. “We’re getting screwed on the price, but they’ll do the work well.

  “How is to our advantage that we’re getting not-quite-obsolescent warships?” she asked.

  “Once we’ve wrapped our upgrades around them, the Empress A!Anas will be able to take on a super-battleship, tiny and old or not,” Elon pointed out. “That will bring them knocking on our door for CM armor and active missile defenses.”

  “At which point, we are going to gouge them,” Annette admitted. “It’s to our advantage to have the Imperial Navy be the biggest, baddest fleet in the neighborhood. We’ll upgrade the shield we’ll be hiding behind, but after all the headaches they’ve given us, we will damned well make them pay for the privilege.”

  #

  Wellesley joined Annette in the office in her new apartment while Elon and Miss Wan were doing their best to get Morgan cleaned up in advance of supper.

  Most of her work was now done in meetings, but she had a dock that accepted her communicator and would feed it to an old-style keyboard and a hologram projector. Those were the only electronics in the mostly empty room, in the exact center of the big wooden desk.

  There were a few imported Imperial chairs, and Annette sighed in relief as the one at her desk promptly set to work kneading her stressed-out muscles.

  “James, have a seat,” she ordered her bodyguard.

  “What do you need, Your Grace?”

  “You to stop calling me that in private,” she told him for, oh, the fortieth or fiftieth time. “After all we’ve been through together, James, you can call me Annette.”

  “So you insist, Your Grace,” he replied with a wicked schoolboy grin. “But I am the son of the Duke of Wellington. There are proprieties to observe.”

  “For that, Colonel, I’m sending you back to Tortuga,” she said firmly.

  “Why Tortuga?” he asked, then paused. “Oh. You’re actually serious.”

  “Who’s your backup at this point? I need you to report to Tornado with at least two Troops of the Ducal Guard,” Annette told him.

  “Salvatore’s my second,” Wellesley replied. “He won’t run your personal security, but he’ll take over command of the Guard.” He hesitated. “What do you need me to go to Tortuga for, Your Grace?”

  “You’ll have sealed orders from me for Captain Kurzman. There will be no official orders issued,” she warned him. “You will be operating under my direct authority, written and verbal.

  “Jess is bringing me paper and a sealed envelope,” she continued with a chuckle, “but the essence of the orders is this: I need you and Pat to head to Tortuga’s current location and meet with Ondu Arra Tallas.

  “He liquidated our prizes from Lambda Aurigae for us and I need the money. All of it.”

  Wellesley whistled silently.

  “I’m not sure the big bird is going to be enthused with that,” he pointed out.

  “That’s why I’m sending you as well as Pat. You, Colonel Wellesley, share the same reputation I do on that station,” she reminded him. “They’re terrified of us.

  “If Tallas gives you more trouble than a few threats can handle, go to the Crew,” she continued. “That would be a contract violation, and they can’t stand for that.”

  “I thought the biggest issue was laundering the money so we could use it cleanly,” Wellesley asked.

  “It’s not entirely necessary so long as we’re running it through the Duchy,” Annette replied. “We didn’t realize that before, but with two months of operations, it looks like we can launder just about anything just through the Duchy’s revenues.”

  She smiled coldly.

  “And frankly, I don’t care if the Imperium works out where the money came from. It might remind them not to fuck with us.”

  #

  Chapter 31

  “Ducal Guard, arriving!”

  The words echoed through Tornado’s landing bay over the heads of the waiting greeting party. James couldn’t help but wonder at how quickly it had been put together, given that they’d advised Tornado that he was arriving only when they’d left Hong Kong.

  The fifty Ducal Guardsmen behind him hadn’t been given much more notice that something was going on. Most of them had been heading to sleep in the Hong Kong airbase they were operating out of when James had arrived and ruined their weeks.

  His husband, however, had managed to get a greeting party together in under ten minutes, with himself at the head.

  James saluted Pat crisply. So far as he understood the Duchy’s ranks at this point, as head of the Ducal Guard, his Colonel outranked his husband’s Captain, but the commander of a spaceship always outranked anyone else aboard.

  “Welcome back aboard Tornado¸ James,” Pat told him, glancing at the collection of soldiers behind him. “What’s going on?”

  “I have sealed orders for you from the Duchess,” James replied. “We are to open them together once we’ve entered hyperspace. You’re to recall your crew and get under way as soon as everyone is aboard.”

  “I figured something of the sort,” the Captain said. “Recall orders went out two minutes after I got the message that you were reporting aboard with additional troopers. Didn’t have anyone who wasn’t reachable, so we should be underway in under two hours.”

  That would be just after midnight Hong Kong time, well before any of the Indiri were likely to be paying attention to Terran ship movements.

  “Can you brief me before we go into hyper?” Pat asked.

  “Some details,” James told him. “Your office?”

  “Same place as always,” his husband confirmed.

  James turned back to the people with him.

  “Troop Captains Tellaki, Sherman,” he said crisply, gesturing the two officers—one human, one Rekiki—to him. “Get your people aboard and settled down. We’re going to be on Tornado a while, so make sure your people have the space they need.”

  “The old SSS barracks section is still there and untouched,” Pat told them. “Nothing’s changed there; you should be able to find your way.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sherman replied. “Tellaki and I will sort it out.”

  #

  Once in the privacy of Pat’s office, the two men embraced fiercely. With Tornado in orbit, they still got to see each other more than they might have otherwise, but they’d become used to having most of their time off together while both serving on the ship.

  “What can you actually tell me?” Pat asked.

  “Pretty much nothing until we’re out of Sol and incommunicado,” James admitted. “I just wanted an excuse to get you in private.”


  Pat chuckled.

  “Not complaining. A little weirded out by the orders, though.”

  “Trust me, it’s fine,” James told his lover. “For that matter, trust Bond. If it was a suicide mission, do you think she’d be sending us off on our own?”

  “No,” Tornado’s new Captain agreed. “Any idea how long we’ll be gone?”

  “Honestly? No. I know our destination coordinates are in this envelope.” He passed the sealed orders over. “I don’t know how long that will actually take.”

  Hyperspace was not a constant thing. If you were in well-charted space and knew the currents, you could often make twice the speed of someone without those charts. Distance was a factor in travel time, but information was an even bigger one.

  The strangest part was not being able to truly judge how fast, say, another ship was actually going. Both ships could move at half-lightspeed and their sensors would show that the entire trip…but one ship could arrive days before the other.

  The more James understood about hyperspace, the more he realized it was weird.

  “We shall see once we’re on our way, I guess,” Pat allowed. He tapped his communicator. “Rolfson, how’s the crew looking?”

  “The last shuttle just came aboard a bit early,” the executive officer, who had been the tactical officer under Bond, reported. “We’re clear to head out on your order.”

  “Tell Amandine to get us underway,” Pat ordered. “Let me know just before we hit hyperspace.”

  “Will do, sir. Will be about ninety minutes, I’d say.”

  James smiled at his husband as Pat laid aside the communicator.

  “And just what shall we do for those ninety minutes, I wonder?”

  #

  Even without the warning from the bridge, the sensation of passing through a hyper portal was hard to miss. Back in their uniforms, the two husbands eyed the sealed letter on Pat’s desk as the feeling rippled over them.