by Tao Wong
Her words surprise me, and I have to ask for clarification.
“A wife who loves him, a husband who hates him, and his four children. Of those, you can expect to have to kill the wife and the husband and two of his children. The youngest is probably too low Level for you to worry about.” Catrin flicks her fingers, and notification windows bloom, providing me biographical information on those she speaks about. I glance through them quickly, realizing that most are in the low Master or Advanced Class stages. Only the two youngers are really low Leveled. The first hasn’t even reached the age of System majority; the other is struggling up the mid-ranks of his Basic Class.
“Are you certain I’ll have to kill them?”
“Most likely. His partners are fully complicit in his actions and are unlikely to change their minds, even after his disposal. Unless you intend to remove him from power and give it to someone else, they’ll still be in charge,” Catrin says. “Even if you did hand over ownership, the new nobles would have to deal with the loyal retainers.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t exactly thinking of rebuilding the entire noble sector for them.” It would probably be a more elegant solution, but I have other things to deal with. Never mind the fact that I have absolutely no idea who to give his peerage to. “But what makes you think his family wouldn’t stop after I kill Krenmock?”
“Pride. You don’t become and stay a noble for as long as they have and just give in to the first threat.”
“And the kids?”
“They might change, but they’d still have to confront you. You could never be safe with them out there,” Catrin says this blithely, as if murdering people just because they’re an inconvenience in the future is acceptable.
And I guess it is. For them. I’d object about how callous this is, but I’ve realized that for the Galactics, life is cheap. Any life but their own.
“The Viscountess won’t take action until you do. But if you do kill him, she’ll be forced to act.”
“Because he’s part of her standing?” I ask.
“Yes. Whether or not she likes them, whether or not she agrees with his actions, she can’t let you chip away at her faction and do nothing.”
I sigh. Nothing she says is particularly new or surprising. And maybe I shouldn’t have threatened his life. Any action I take after this that doesn’t involve me taking his head will make me look weak. Realistically, what I want to do is deal with the blockade. Not him.
I do wonder if Catrin’s viewpoint is slightly wrong. After all, to stop me after I kill Brerdain, Julierudi would have to kill me. Kill the initiates maybe. And if that happens, they’ll have no other choice but take part in the civil war that will come since there was no other option for the inheritance. Is losing one member of her faction worth that?
Then again, it’s only a risk if she thinks I won’t pick her. And if I destroy her base, she might take it as a sign that I’m not looking favorably upon her candidacy. I rub my temples, feeling a headache coming along.
Catrin make a little sound in her throat and shifts to lay a kiss upon my lips. Dawn light continues to filter in, slowly brightening the room as the windows note our increased wakefulness. It’s a gradual process, just like I prefer.
“And Brerdain?” I asked her while reaching for the sheets and pulling them over her body to keep her warm. And to lower the distractions.
“I can’t see how he’d object to your actions.” She shrugs, shifting the sheets and threatening her decorum again with each motion. “He’s never liked the nobles. All his objections surround the recruits and what they might do.”
I finally give in to her distractions. I’ve gotten what I wanted as I watch the threads across her body pulse. I release my Skill and roll over, pinning her down before I begin my assault on her lips and skin.
***
“So?” Ali floats beside me as I walk out of my residence to my designated Portal zone.
Having been cleared to jump around—on a limited basis—has made my life so much easier. As I take in the weirdly colored vegetation of the planet, I mentally locate the image of my destination.
“About what we thought,” I say. My conversation with Catrin confirmed some suspicions and musings, which means phase two is a go. But to get there, I have to have a conversation with my designated aides.
I step through the Portal, only to be greeted by Saimon and Braxton. Like most Portal and teleportation locations, I’ve been dumped into a carefully reinforced security room, one that has numerous safeguards and security weaponry in place. I stride off the platform and grin at the pair.
“Did you get my list?” I say.
“We did. The Chief wants to know what is going on. It might behoove you to actually talk to him,” Lord Braxton says. “Just because we can, doesn’t make it right, for us to take these units. Especially when withdrawing them from a variety of armies.”
“A variety?” Ali asks.
“We thought it better that we not draw down any single force.” Saimon explains. “It makes it more polite. Also, it doesn’t allow them to accuse us of favoritism.”
“But we have enough, right?” I don’t really care about the politics, not yet at least. I’m more concerned that we have what we need.
“Six teams, ten members each, as per your specifications,” says Lord Braxton. “In addition, they all have their designated assault shuttles and destroyers, ready for your use.”
It’s not a large force the way an Empire counts things. Not even when you account for the Levels I asked for. Still, all of the team members are close to Master Class, and some already are. It means that they’ve got more punching power than the raw numbers would indicate. The teams’ smaller sizes is why Brerdain’s only making noises about wanting me to talk to him, rather than demanding I do so.
“And the logistic basis and the necessary permits?”
“All done. They’ll go public in a day,” says Saimon. “We also have the permit for your friend who has arrived. He’ll be here tomorrow.”
That last sentence makes me grin. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Dornalor—not since he quite resolutely turned down the production of his ship in Erethra. I’m really curious to see what he’s done with his share of the earnings.
“Well, that was fast. We could’ve done all this by email,” I say, lips twisting in a grin. When the pair of them don’t react to my amusement, I sigh and throw my hands in the air. “Galactic language packs really don’t do humor well, do they?”
“No. You’re just not funny, boy-o.”
I ignore the damn Spirit, confirm what Society’s Web tells me about the pair, sign a few more documents, then I open up a Portal. I can’t wait to meet my initiates after their break. I’m sure they’re just dying to know what stage two is all about.
Chapter 16
The wind kicks up, blasting against my face, throwing up dirt and debris as the ship lands. It’s a gorgeous ship, long and sharp-nosed to keep the vessel streamlined. Silver paint with just a touch of gold and blue lining on the edges. Bulbous equipment slots carry missiles, and gun turrets sit on the wings, carefully reshaped by projected force fields for atmospheric flying. Even from here, I can see how the weapons can pivot, shift, and retarget in full 360-degree angles. Multiple jets are arrayed along the wings, helping guide the ship and hurl it forward, aided by the main engines at the back.
Just before it lands, the ship’s main engines switch off, engines in the wings altering direction and angle to do a vertical landing. Landing struts emerge from the ship itself, and it lands with the gentlest of thumps. I eye the bird, data about the ship scrolls past my eyes.
Nothing’s Heartbreak II (Customized Cyrus Fast Destroyer v 172.5)
Core: Cyrus Fast Destroyer v 172.5
Speed: 12.8 Doms
Processing Unit & Software: Class A Xylik Core
Armor Rating (Space): Tier I
Stealth Rating (Space): Tier I*
Hard Points: 14 (9 Used)
Soft Points: 21 (14 Used)
Crew: 1 (+4 Maintenance Drones)
Crew Capacity: 7
Weaponry: 4 x Ares 8.2 Miu Beam Turrets, 6 x OneLir Missile Turrets
Defense: 4 x qBitum Point-Defense Force Shields, 1 x Repulsive Blurza Field, 24 x Point Defense Lasers
Core Durability: 100% (more…)
As the data streams in, I’m amused that I still have vice-captain privileges. After I lost him his vessel, I was sure Dornalor was going to bitch me out before letting me in. Once the engines die, the personnel doors open and Dornalor walks out, shading his head with one hand.
“I see you’ve planned for me,” I can’t help but tease the pirate. Beyond being a general upgrade over the first Heartbreak, the second Heartbreak also has a much higher number of redundant systems. Nearly half of the hard points and a quarter of the soft points in the ship are used for redundant systems.
“Oh, trust me. I’m adding it to your bill,” Dornalor replies, crossing his arms in distaste.
I grunt, walking up to greet the man even as the rest of the team makes their presence known. Mikito, on the ground, uncrosses her legs as she finishes her meditation. Bolo flicks his fingers, dismissing the TV show he was watching with Ali, offering the pirate a grin. And Harry hurries over, tucking in his pants, a smear of lipstick still on his lips.
As I greet the ghatotkaca, I sigh mentally. Everyone I’ve been meeting recently is bigger than me. Like Bolo, Dornalor’s nine feet tall, but unlike the Dragon Lord, he’s entirely hairless, with a head shaped like a pot and a weird, dandelion-yellow skin.
Dornalor Xyrralei, Journeyman Trader (Master Merchant Captain Level 3) (M)
HP: 420/420
MP: 5490/5490
Conditions: Shortened Trade Routes, Shipboard Awareness, Hyperspace Fold, In His Place, Mana Drip
“Level 3 Master Class?” I splutter when I notice his Status. Even if it’s mostly a lie, his Skill isn’t good enough to hide his base Class tier. “Weren’t you just Level 1 when I left? What the hell did you guys do?” I shoot an accusatory glare at Mikito and Bolo.
“Nothing. Nothing happened,” Bolo waves his hands. “Isn’t that right, Dornalor? Nothing that the Redeemer needs to know.” He fixes the grinning Pirate Captain with a look and pulses his Dragon Fear, just once.
Dornalor’s grin only fades a little since he’s still standing on his ship’s gangplank.
“Bolo…” I mutter. I stare at Dornalor since I know the Dragon Lord isn’t going to tell me.
Dornalor hums, that pot-head rocking from side to side. It’s weird, especially since he doesn’t have ears, but in the end, the grin widens as I growl impatiently. “Nah, it’s more fun watching you twitch. I won’t tell.”
I glare at the pair before I look at Mikito.
“It’s settled. Relax,” Mikito says, patting the air as if she’s patting my shoulder. Or head. “Or don’t. We could use that anger.” With those words, she strolls up the gangplank, muttering appreciations to Dornalor as she regards the ship.
“Gah!”
“I could buy the information…”
“Don’t bother. If it was really important, they’d tell me.” I say, only allowing a small smile to break out when they’re inside. I turn around, staring at the empty fields behind.
“She did say she wouldn’t see you off.”
“I know. Wasn’t what I was looking for.”
“Uh huh.”
I snort out loud and ascend the ship. I know, in other fields, the rest of the initiates are doing the same. Soon enough, I have to brief them. Just before I slap the blast doors closed, I look back at the empty fields.
Once more into the breach.
Or something like that.
***
It takes a bit of time before we’re up in space, but once we are, I open comms to everyone. Six displays, one for each of the remaining Paladin initiates, hover beside me. In a smaller window, identical ships are displayed—the vessels that the initiates will be in command of. I know I said that we can’t really rely on the Erethran Armed Forces for support, but needs must. Anyway, with the data we had, we filtered out the untrustworthy.
Exactly how well we did, we’ll find out. But among the requirements they had for this portion of their training was deciding who and what their team would look like. What I won’t tell them is if I have time, I’m going to take a gander at all of their choices later on with Society’s Web. It’s not a foolproof method, but it might raise some interesting and unspoken alliances.
Each of the ships they’re in, the Randolf III model, is in general classification, similar to the Nothing’s Heartbreak. That means they’re midsize military scout ships, armed to the teeth, but more focused on speed and stealth than being able to slug it out. Unlike Dornolar’s, which has a few specific spots to allow people like Bolo and myself to make use of our Skills, the military vessels are geared toward tech solutions to the firepower question. On the other hand, their ships are also much higher-rated for speed. They’re also configured to use a higher variety of disposable stealth drones, unlike Dornalor’s.
“Welcome to phase two, ladies and gentlemen,” I say, and the group shifts slightly, staring at me in impatience. “One of the things you’re going to have to learn is that actions have consequences. And that our job isn’t just swooping in, killing a bunch of people, and moving on. If you want to do your job properly, as a Paladin, you have to make sure that the unintended consequences of your actions, and the intended ones, all play out the way you need them to.”
Memory rises, of a conversation with another. We’re seated at home, a blasted, shattered remnant of a cave holed out from the mountain by a missed attack. Cracks from overheated stone abound in the ceilings and walls. The ground is the only thing that doesn’t move, and that’s because she’s taken the time to use a spell to fix it up. In fact, most of the furniture is reshaped earth, easy to use, easy to discard.
Over cups of fermented mucus and vegetable matter, we rest. It’s been another long, exhausting day of fighting on the walls. Technically speaking, having both of us off the walls is not necessarily a good idea. But with Blink Step and Portal, getting where we need to be isn’t too difficult. And at a certain point, we all need a break.
“Why am I here? Unintended consequences. And obligations.” Suhargur laughs bitterly, waving the dented mug around. It’s not even a real mug, but a torn and reshaped plate of armor with a hand etched onto it in a slipshod manner. Not that she gives a damn, since it holds alcohol just as well. “I screwed up. Should never have killed them. Should have stayed behind, waited another month, another year. But I was impatient. There was always something else to do. I thought it was fine, that we—I—had fixed the problem. There was other work, other quests to finish. And I was so alone then. But I was wrong. And they slipped from normal to Restricted to Forbidden. All because I killed them.”
I try to protest, to point out that she couldn’t have known this would happen.
“Doesn’t matter. Learn from me. Learn from this. Always finish the job. The real job. Protect the Empire, not the system.”
Memory fades, and I find everyone still looking at me. Waiting. This time, luckily, it was only a few seconds. It just seems like a very long pause.
“The planet we just saved needs immigrants. Problem is, the only people who would immigrate to a Restricted Planet are undesirables. People who are born in Forbidden Zones, rim planets where the Empire has yet to complete rebuilding. Those who have no hope of a better life where they are. Failures, rejects, even deserters and draft dodgers.”
Magine, Kino, and Gheisnan react at the last group. Interesting to note, but not surprising to some ways.
“Currently, they’re being blocked from immigrating.” A hand waves, a map appears. “Conventional immigration routes, the routes our targets need to use, mostly flow through Lord Ucald’s holdings. Most are turned back, delayed. Others are thrown into jail, forced to work in mines and other undesirable lo
cations because they can be targeted.” I shake my head. “Lord Ucald has been informed to stop that bullshit. He’s refused. Your job is to show him the error of his ways.”
Silence lingers until Anayton speaks up. “And how are we supposed to do that?”
“With violence, of course,” Freif says.
“What kind?” Anayton replies bitingly.
“First test. You tell me,” I say, crossing my arms. I have ideas, but it will be interesting to see what they have to say.
“Kill him,” Magine says.
Freif nods immediately.
Gheisnan, the little Pooskeen who has to hover in the air just so that he can reach the console, objects. “No. Even more unintended consequences. We’d have to deal with the succession.”
“And if we let him get away with ignoring the Paladin—us—we create even more trouble in the future,” Magine says, shaking his head. “Better to kill him now and make it clear the kind of Paladins we are.”
“We could hit his holdings. Take them all out,” Ropo offers. “Ulcer-refuse nobles all hate losing their stuff. If we take them away, he’d get the point. And it’d make a much stronger point than just killing him.”
“Death is a very strong point,” Freif says.
“Slow. Attacks on his holdings are slow. And we don’t have the expertise to take away any illiquid assets,” Kino says. “The immigrants are being targeted now. We need to fix that immediately.”
Gheisnan’s eyes go unfocused, his lips moving wordlessly. I stare at them for a second before realizing he’s muttering in Pooskeen. Which I’ve picked up a few words of here and there, but not enough to lipread. Anayton has caught sight of the little Pooskeen triggering his Skills and shushes the group. She fails, as Magine, Ropo, and Kino continue to argue their points.
As for me, I stand there, hands behind my back as the ships head out of the local gravity wells. We could open up hyperspace jumps close in, but it’s a significant toll on the engines. Easier and better to do it outside the local gravity wells, when Skills and tech don’t have to strain as much.
