Duchess of Terra (Duchy of Terra Book 2)

by Glynn Stewart

  Ridotak raised an arm weakly, but his voice was firm even through the translator.

  “Peace, Onodan,” he commanded. “Our Terran friends understand the situation. They have their own limitations on being able to deal with us; the presence of the commander of Dan!Annette Bond’s personal guard on Tortuga is a political nightmare for her.”

  “An active insult to the Imperium,” James agreed. “A response in kind, one could say, for actions of theirs.

  “But if we will not be permitted to return, then it becomes necessary for us to fully withdraw all of our accounts and investments, both direct and through Ondu, in a form that can be funneled to the Duchess.

  “Ondu informs me that his resources are insufficient to do so, which brings us once again to the court of the High Captain,” James concluded smoothly. “We need to transfer those funds, and I believe you have the resources to do so.”

  “So much blood,” Ridotak observed. “You Terrans have marked your new place in the stars with fire and blood, and yet money makes the galaxy turn, does it not?”

  James was silent. He couldn’t disagree.

  “We can do what you ask,” the High Captain continued after a moment. “The price is high.”

  “I will pay it,” Ondu Arra Tallas coughed. “I owe the Colonel my life. Whatever the fees, whatever your rates, High Captain, I will cover it and see the Terrans paid.”

  “Be cautious, Ondu Tallas,” Ridotak warned. “Even if you pay out the Terrans, there will always be those who blame you for the deaths at Orsav.”

  “The sun claims the weak,” Tallas snapped. “A flock that betrays is a flock that burns. They chose their wind and fell.”

  “Poetic, but no shield against hatred and anger,” the Laian noted.

  “For that, I have fire and steel,” the old trader told him. “There are those upon this station, High Captain, who do not forget their oaths and contracts.”

  “Then it shall be done,” Ridotak said calmly. “Provide the details to your usual contact, Ondu Arra Tallas. I will make certain the fee is one you can bear. I will not permit my Crew to repay honor with dishonor.”

  Tallas bowed, and the big Laian turned to James.

  “So long as Bond remains Duchess, she is not welcome here,” he said calmly. “But… If Terra falls again. If the Imperium turns on her. If she finds herself once more a homeless warrior, tell her she will have a place here. So will you and Captain Kurzman.”

  “I do not expect to need it, but I understand,” James replied with a bow. “In turn, know this: if the Crew would ever seek a home. If Builder of Sorrows would instead build dreams, then come to Sol.

  “You will not be turned away.”

  Mandibles chittered in alien laughter, but Ridotak bowed his head.

  “We are lost, Colonel, but we are comfortable in our wandering now. Fixed in our ways. Tortuga will find no home, no rest. Our old masters would see a threat if we did,” he warned quietly. “As you say, I understand, but it would not work.”

  “Any of the Crew are welcome,” James replied. “But I think we understand each other, High Captain.”

  #

  Chapter 38

  Annabel Sherman and ten power-armored troopers were waiting when James led Ondu and Kurzman back out of the core station of Tortuga. The blonde Troop Captain had doffed her helmet and was speaking calmly to the Laian Crew NCO commanding the guard detachment.

  Only someone who knew her well could see the tense lines in her face and the way she held herself, even in the battle armor. Sherman was ready to leap into action, and the fact that her ten men were a fragile weapon against the might of Tortuga’s Crew was irrelevant to her.

  “Stand down, Troop Captain,” James murmured as he stepped up to her. “Status report?”

  “The Crew helped us move our wounded and dead back to Tornado,” she reported. “Backup teams are guarding the ship, ready to deploy forward if there’s any further trouble.”

  “There won’t be,” the Crew noncom she’d been speaking to said firmly. “I am First Spear Podule—I met your Duchess once.

  “Our High Captain has sworn no more harm will come to you,” Podule continued. “My troops and I will see you safely to your ship and Tallas safely to his compound.”

  As the Laian spoke, more Crew troopers in their dark red power armor were emerging, dozens strong.

  “I need to go to their ship first,” Tallas told her. “Colonel Wellesley and I have business to conclude.”

  “Very well,” Podule replied. “I will have some of my troops remain there until you are ready to leave. We will see you safely home, Agent Tallas.”

  #

  “Are you all right, Ondu?” James asked after they finally sealed Tornado’s hatch behind them.

  “Katel and Moren had worked for me for fifty cycles,” the Tosumi said flatly. “I know their mates, their young, their fathers. This was not the first time they fought for me, but it was the last.

  “On what wind could I be ‘all right,’ Colonel?”

  “You’re a better being than you give yourself credit for, I think, Ondu Tallas,” James told him. “How can we assist you?”

  “I will be fine,” Tallas said. “Losing friends hurts.”

  “Yes,” James agreed flatly.

  “I will sort out arrangements with the Crew and let you know once the transfer commences,” the alien told him. “I need a few moments…away from Tortuga.”

  “You are welcome aboard Tornado,” Kurzman told the alien.

  James studied his husband. He was, in truth, more concerned about Pat than he was about Tallas. Not only was Pat more important to him personally, but hand-to-hand combat wasn’t a Navy officer’s strength.

  Kurzman looked…okay. A little pale, a little shaky, but surprisingly okay.

  “Even the Crew would have difficulty threatening Tornado quickly,” Kurzman continued. “We owe you, Ondu Arra Tallas. You are welcome aboard my ship.”

  “More than here,” James told the alien. “If you ever find yourself in need of another haven, the Duchy of Terra will not turn you away.”

  “Trying to recruit the dregs of the universe, are you?” Tallas asked, a modicum of cheer slipping back into his translated voice. The translator software had a lot of experience with English now, and James could read both his grief and his determination to carry on.

  “‘Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,’” James quoted. “Not my country, but a story with meaning regardless. Terra knows you as a friend, Ondu. We do not turn away our friends.”

  “Your men,” Tallas said after a moment of studying the wall. “They have families?”

  “Not the Rekiki, I don’t believe,” James admitted. “My two human troopers, yes.”

  “I will send additional funds with the transfer for them, Colonel. Will you see them delivered? I recognize my debts.”

  Ondu Arra Tallas might be a fence and a pirate, but he’d played fair and well with the Terrans, both as rogues and as a new government.

  “I’ll make it happen,” James promised.

  #

  Later, once Tallas had returned aboard Tortuga and James had checked in on his wounded trooper, he made sure to catch Pat in their shared quarters. Tornado’s Captain was trading in the low-profile power suit for his regular uniform, but he’d stopped half-dressed, staring at the mirror.

  “Hell of a thing,” Pat said quietly as James closed the door behind them. “Hell of a thing.”

  Pat Kurzman was older than James and looked it, though his solid build was still muscled and the gray simply added a flair of distinction to his hair. James took a moment to survey his half-naked husband as he crossed the room and laid a hand on Pat’s shoulder.

  “Being shot at isn’t normally part of a Space Force man’s job,” he said quietly. “That’s what you have the Special Space Service for—and all of us are five-year vets before we’re even considered. My people and I have been shot at before.”r />
  “So have I, if you remember,” Pat pointed out. “Here on Tortuga. Haven’t…haven’t had someone bleed out on me before. Tellaki was a good man…Rekiki…whatever.”

  For a moment, Pat’s words brought back a time, many years earlier, when a younger James Wellesley of the Special Air Service had dragged a comrade-in-arms out of a firefight in a godawful war zone the SAS had never officially entered…only for the man to finish bleeding to death just as they reached the medic.

  “You’ve lost people,” James reminded him. “Don’t pretend damage control is safe and clean to me, Pat. I’ve boarded too many ships to buy that bullshit.”

  Pat chuckled. It was a bitter noise but not one without hope.

  “We got what we were after, I suppose. Was the price worth it?”

  “I don’t know if the price is ever worth it,” James told him. “But we traded four lives for the resources to acquire sixteen super-battleships and, arguably, unquestioned security for Earth.

  “If you’d asked them if they’d make that trade, most, if not all, of my people would say yes,” he continued. “I would—even if you’d told me one of those lives would be my own. We swore an oath, Pat.”

  “And we’ll keep it,” Pat confirmed. “They weren’t the only ones to die for us to have those ships. Too much blood.”

  “The Mahalzi make me worry about what’s coming,” James admitted. “There’s no reason for there to be Kanzi commandos on Tortuga—or, at least, for them to attack us—unless they’re moving on Sol.”

  “Religious slavers,” his husband said quietly. “What wonderful neighbors we have.”

  “That’s what the Scots used to say about us English,” James pointed out. “And I can’t argue there probably wasn’t about as much slaving and raping when the English went north.”

  “You think there’s more to them?”

  “I think there has to be,” James said reasonably. “It’s not going to stop me fighting them tooth and nail every inch of the way and surrounding Earth with a wall of blue-furred corpses if need be. But I’ll realize there has to be more to the Kanzi than slavers and religious fanatics.”

  He shrugged.

  “Hell, beyond ‘God says they can enslave anyone who looks like them,’ I haven’t even been able to find out much about their religion.”

  “They’re not exactly making me want to try,” Pat replied.

  “That’s part of it,” James agreed.

  “We’re going to be good, Pat,” he continued. “We did what we came here for. We’ll wait for Tallas to confirm the transfer, then we get the hell home.”

  “Worried it isn’t going to be there?” his husband asked.

  “Your baby is the Duchy’s most powerful warship,” James replied. “Everyone will be happier once she’s back in Terran orbit.”

  #

  Chapter 39

  Captain Andrew Lougheed looked around his quarters aboard Washington one last time, to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.

  He’d barely been in command of the destroyer long enough to justify unpacking. Just long enough to make sure his cadre was holding together and to train a double-strength crew to barely basic competence.

  Andrew agreed with the logic that said there was no point manning the unmodified City-class ships now that they had the modified ships, now designated the Capital class, to deploy. His new command, Ottawa, could take both Washington and Beijing in a straight fight.

  The intercom pinged.

  “We’re approaching BugWorks Station,” Arendse’s voice told him. “ETA is under five minutes, so if you want to take a look at the new ships from the outside…”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant,” Andrew replied, smiling. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

  Leaving his suitcases for the transfer team, he swept out of the room for the last time.

  #

  Small as Washington was in the new scheme of things, she was still the size of a pre-conquest UESF cruiser and vastly larger than the survey ship that had been Andrew’s last command. It took him a full two minutes to reach his bridge and drop into his chair, studying the screens as the destroyer came in toward BugWorks station.

  The once-secret R&D facility was a ring a kilometer across with four massive towers extended up and down from the ring. Once, those heavily reinforced towers had provided additional living space in a station whose pseudo-gravity was provided by rotation. Now they anchored the attached shipyards where Nova Industries was upgrading the Duchy of Terra’s destroyers.

  Four of the Capital-class destroyers filled those yards, the last flurry of work shuttles skimming around the warships as they made them ready for their space trials and deployment.

  “A month from design to deployment,” Arendse observed. “Nova Industries is impressive.”

  “The core design is solid,” Andrew reminded her, patting his command chair. “The A!Tol build good ships, and most of what Nova was doing to turn Cities into Capitals was adding to the exterior hull.”

  Washington’s Captain tapped a command on his chair.

  “BugWorks Control, this is Washington. We are inbound at point one cee and preparing to match orbital velocity for docking. We will hold for instructions at ten thousand kilometers.”

  Arendse was a mistress of interface-drive maneuvers now, turning an old skill with reaction thrusters into a dancer’s precision with the reactionless engine Washington mounted. She brought the destroyer zipping in at thirty thousand kilometers a second and to a complete halt relative to the station. At exactly ten thousand kilometers.

  “Washington, this is BugWorks,” a voice replied. “Welcome back, Captain Lougheed. Transmitting docking coordinates now. How’s your new ship and your new new ship looking?”

  Andrew chuckled at the descriptors.

  “Washington is a slick little ship,” he told BugWorks. “I’ll be sad to give her up, but I’m looking at Ottawa in the viewscreen. Your teams have done us proud.”

  There weren’t a lot of visible differences to the upgraded ships. Knowing where to look, Andrew picked out the Sword laser defense turrets and the mountings for the Buckler drones, but the compressed-matter armor was hidden under the same brilliant white paint they’d coated Washington in.

  All of the A!Tol-designed ships were gorgeous, even if their tentacle-esque lines occasionally left Andrew feeling he was about to be eaten by a sea monster.

  “Nova Industries lives to serve, Captain,” the controller replied. “Would you like fries with your destroyer?”

  “Please, I’m Canadian. I’ll take poutine,” Andrew told him with a laugh. He glanced at Arendse, the young African woman flashing him a thumbs-up and dropping a timer on his screen.

  “We make it twenty seconds to docking,” he told BugWorks.

  “I have the same. Welcome aboard.”

  Andrew let that channel die, then opened an all-hands channel to his crew as the destroyer glided into her assigned slot.

  “Officers and crew of Washington,” he greeted them, “this is your Captain speaking. We are docking at BugWorks Station in preparation for transfer to our new ships.

  “Half of you are coming with me to Ottawa. The others will be joining Captain Laurent aboard Canberra. We’ve had a short but intense cruise and you’ve all done me proud.

  “Washington stands down at oh eight hundred hours tomorrow. Sorry, C-Shift, but you’ve still got the night watch. Everyone else is cleared for shore leave, but make sure your stuff makes it to your new ship by ten hundred hours tomorrow.

  “Those of you joining me on Ottawa, I look forward to seeing you again. Those of you going to Canberra”—he paused, then chuckled—“take care of my girlfriend or you will hear from me!”

  #

  Andrew met Warner at the airlock, his executive officer glad-handing with the crew as they made their way onto the station. The younger officer, one of the many UESF officers to join the new service, saluted as Andrew approached.

  “A and B shifts are all o
ff-ship,” he reported. “With your permission, I’d like to release every second person from the C-shift as well. We’re running double-strength still, so half a shift can more than handle anything in dock.”

  “Could we still fly her with half of C-shift?” Andrew asked.

  “We’re in dock, sir,” Warner replied. “Why would we need to fly her?”

  “Right now, Washington represents half the armed starships in this system,” Andrew pointed out. “I’d be remiss in my responsibilities if we didn’t keep enough crew aboard to at least carry out a search and rescue op.”

  “Half of C-shift would put us at about eighteen percent of list strength,” his XO considered aloud. “Skeleton crew, but we could fly her.”

  “But not fight her,” Washington’s Captain pointed out. “Sorry, Commander. I sympathize with our crew, but until we move over enough people to take the Capitals out of dry dock, Washington must retain a fighting crew. Permission denied.”

  Warner sighed.

  “Yes, sir,” he said crisply. “What about yourself, sir? Heading off-ship?”

  “For a few hours,” Andrew confirmed. “I’m meeting with Captain Laurent to celebrate her promotion. I’m on call,” he told his XO. “If anything comes up, don’t hesitate to reach out to me. I’ll be back aboard by oh two hundred or so at the latest, well before the stand-down.”

  “Understood, sir. Enjoy your date, Captain.”

  Andrew took his XO’s proffered hand for a brisk shake, then stepped into the airlock.

  #

  He was barely inside the station before he was intercepted, a sandy-haired chubby woman in a tailored business suit bearing down on him and calling his name.

  “Captain Lougheed!”

  Sighing, Andrew turned to face her.

  “May I help you, miss?”