by Blaze Ward
“So is the galaxy safe, with you loose?” Moirrey asked carefully, almost sideways.
Suvi stopped in the middle of the hall
“The galaxy is fine, Moirrey,” she whispered into the shorter woman’s ear as she pulled her into a sudden, warm hug. “I want to be safe.”
She released Moirrey and moved again, still hand in hand.
Moirrey found new reserves of energy to keep up as the station vibrated again with another hit.
Safe. Didn’t everyone want that?
Chapter LXVI
Imperial Founding: 172/06/16. Ballard system
“Outer engagement envelope in sixty seconds, Admiral,” the navigation officer called out. “Auberon will be within firing range and arc in twenty seconds.”
“Shut the engines down now,” Emmerich called. “Use the gyros and maneuvering thrusters to come around to three–zero–zero and prepare to engage. I want four primaries on the station, and two on Auberon, rapid fire, until I say otherwise.”
All of the missiles he had fired at the station had not been a waste of time, precisely. They had served two purposes on launch. First, one might have actually managed to get through, although he had not counted on it. Second, all twelve local fighters and the two patrol cutters had been forced to stay back defensively to protect the platform. None of them had any speed to try to catch him now.
Speaking of…
“Sensors,” he bellowed over the noise of his men exchanging orders and plans. “Where are those two fighter craft?”
They were annoying mosquitos, having long–since launched all their missiles. Their guns might be painful, but not lethal. Still, he had defensive batteries remaining that could use the experience. It was rare that a fighter craft survived his escorts long enough to threaten a battleship, even at the speed those two were closing.
Today was hopefully the only exception.
“Crossing our beam shortly, Admiral. Should we engage with missiles?”
“Negative,” Emmerich said. “Guns only. Continue sending missiles at the station until we are clear.”
What did two melee fighters think they were going to do against him?
The lights flickered, blinked, surged, stabilized.
“Incoming primary fire from Auberon, Admiral. Shields damaged but intact.”
Damn, that was amazingly–accurate fire at this range and rate of closure. Auberon wasn’t dead astern, where they would be at rest relative to each other for a dead–easy shot, but was instead coming up on him from his port rear quarter. At this speed, they would be in range for an even shorter period than he would have with the station.
But the station could not fire back.
The first two port wing primaries let loose as Amsel’s bow pivoted to bear. One miss. One hit. Shields tattered over there, but Auberon held. That would not last long.
Emmerich ignored Keller and turned his attention back to the station, slowly growing larger in his projection.
Soon, you witch. I will kill you and dance on your grave.
Chapter LXVII
Date of the Republic June 16, 394 Above Ballard
It was time.
Jessica counted the range and did the math. She would have barely two minutes to engage Emmerich Wachturm as she blasted laterally across his wake. Either they killed the Blackbird right now, or Moirrey and the Sentience died.
It had been complete radio silence from the station for too long. She had to assume everyone over there was either already dead, or would be when the station died.
Auberon’s hull rang suddenly as her primaries found the range. Jessica wasn’t sure who was actually firing.
She had been blessed with two fantastic gunners, Aleksander Afolayan on the bridge and Tobias Brewster down on the emergency bridge. At Qui–Ping, Brewster had saved their butts. Hopefully, there would be nothing for him to do today but be prepared.
On her projection, Amsel lit up as two bolts of ravening fire tagged her on the behind, like wasps nailing a dozing horse. That had to have hurt. There had been just too much fire exchanged today. Everyone was punch–drunk by this point in the evening
From the surface of Ballard below, it must look like two pantheons of deities going at each other with swords and lighting bolts in the most magnificent war of heaven ever.
I have become the Twilight of the Gods.
Auberon rolled on her axis like an alligator with prey in her mouth, still firing like a mythological beast. Two bolts from Amsel hammered home as she did, tearing into a whole new shield facing with a sound like hammers on an anvil.
Hopefully, these generators have had a nice quiet day so far. Everything else must be on the verge of overload by now.
The Blackbird didn’t have the option to roll. When he had turned to fight her, the Red Admiral had given up the initiative to do that. He would have to keep his guns on a single plane if he wanted to hit Alexandria Station at all.
Or you could turn completely away and come after me, you bastard.
Jessica smiled at the thought. Auberon would probably die if the Red Admiral had the courage of his convictions, but he would die shortly after that. Brightoak was close behind, just waiting for her chance. And Stralsund would be ready to return to battle before the Blackbird could get another chance at Alexandria Station.
All that damage done, all those lives, and you would have failed, Emmerich.
Come. Dance with me.
Jessica longed to make this completely personal. Valse d’Glaive in a simple ring. Nobody else. Just her and the red daemon from her nightmares.
The blood lust was almost overwhelming.
But she still had a war to win.
Emmerich Wachturm did not get to kill Suvi.
Simple as that.
“Tactical, this is Keller,” she said with an outward calm at odds with her soul. “What’s our timing on Bitter Kitten and Furious?”
“Any second now, Commander,” Tamara replied quickly. “There.”
She would have to check the logs tomorrow to be sure.
Auberon’s primaries both lashed out at once. One of them actually got through, touching metal in a sudden rainbow of molten metal and burning, freezing air.
At almost the same moment, both of Moirrey’s upgraded Archerfish missiles let loose with their Type–3 beams. One of them scored Amsel’s forward flank shield. The other one found the gap in Wachturm’s protection.
It went in like a saber into the battleship’s side. Jessica nearly howled with glee as Amsel rocked hard and began to tumble to starboard, running lights flickering on and off over the entire hull as the battleship spasmed.
Bitter Kitten and Furious were there as well, angry little hornets pouring their vitriol into the big whale’s stern as they blasted past her, rolling down and backwards on their gyros like Rajput would if he was here, and then slowing as they overloaded their engines to extend the chase.
And then everything went black with a hideous crunching sound.
Amsel’s last bolt had gotten home on Auberon. Had done serious damage. Had possibly killed them.
In her dream, Jessica had fallen to her death into the abyss, dragged down to hell by the red daemon.
She was willing do the same here.
Chapter LXVIII
Imperial Founding: 172/06/16. Ballard system
The primary beams went out like metronome ticks. Emmerich smiled with satisfaction.
Like using an icepick to carve a sculpture.
Downrange, Alexandria Station looked like a watermelon that had been shot with a rifle. Sections were blackened, dislodged, shattered. The whole station seemed to cower in a fog of shattered debris.
The only thing keeping it together right now was the scale of over–engineering someone had put in, planning to keep this big planetoid together and aloft for a long time. There were dozens of warships worth of metal over there. That much mass took time to dismember.
That’s why you took stations with marine assaults.
>
Still, it wouldn’t be long now. More than a dozen shots had scored the orbital platform. If Amsel was moving too fast to place them all into the same crater, he would just have to make new holes. One of them would lead him to the core of the station.
The Sentience might already be dead as a result of his assassin, but he was going to make damned sure.
Other bolts rang home. He mustn’t forget Jessica Keller in his haste. She wanted to die today, as well. The least he could do was help.
Auberon was a smaller target than Alexandria Station, and a moving one, spinning and twisting like an eel trying to get close enough to bite. The big guns could not score the sorts of square hits the station suffered, but he was slowly nibbling her shields to death. She would follow quickly when he did.
Something went wrong on the projection.
The last two missiles were veering off course to port, rather than chasing him. The defensive guns were tracking, but the sudden change threw them well off target.
“What’s going on there?” Emmerich called sternly.
“Unsure, Admiral,” the gunnery desk officer replied. “Stand by.”
Amsel shifted under his feet. The entire hull rang like a gong.
For a moment, he had seen the image light up on the projection. She had fired two more of those beam–firing missiles at him. His gunners had gotten complacent and had been sitting back to fire on the missiles when they closed.
They never got close.
Auberon had gotten too close, instead.
Emmerich found himself starting to float in sudden darkness as the local grav–plates failed.
A panel erupted in flame nearby, showering enough sparks to cut the darkness as a damage control technician swam across the space and fought to control the beast of fire in an enclosed space.
“Navigation,” he yelled into the chaos and darkness. “Are we stable?”
A man coughed twice and looked at him pained.
“Close enough, Admiral,” he yelled back, beating his arm to keep sparks from igniting cloth or hair.
“Bring the bow around,” Emmerich ordered. “All engines to flank speed and prepare to transition to Jumpspace as soon as we clear the gravity well.”
He no longer needed to be here. The last image on the projection before it had failed was that of Alexandria Station erupting into a ball of flame and shedding parts to burn up in the atmosphere below.
The Sentience was dead. Jessica Keller might be as well, but that would have to wait for another day.
Victory.
Chapter LXIX
Date of the Republic June 16, 394 Alexandria Station, Ballard
Moirrey knew they must be close. Twice, she and Suvi had come across areas with vacuum alarm seals keeping them from progressing. At least Suvi knew every single hallway and tunnel without a single missed step. That was their only hope now.
They crossed into what should be the outermost frame of the station. This hallway was a tremendous ring, apparently popular with joggers, from the reminders to politely share the walkway with normal pedestrian traffic.
The air here was chewy. Somewhere close, insulation was burning.
Another earthquake knocked Moirrey down, in spite of Suvi’s hand trying to hold her up.
“Almost there, Centurion,” the android–redhead said, tugging her back to her feet.
Moirrey was beginning to wonder if she would make it. If she wanted to.
At what point was the price too much?
“When you’re dead and can’t stop them from winning,” Suvi replied.
At what point are you gonna remember to use your inside voice so’s people don’t hear you?
Moirrey sucked a shallow breath and fought down coughs. Lady Keller had demanded her best. Right here, right now was why she were an officer and a gentlewoman.
Still, it hurt.
The next rumble were strange.
Low. Ominous. Mean.
“What’s that?” Moirrey asked loudly over the noise.
Suvi stopped and cocked her head to listen.
“Shit,” the woman said.
Well, that covered it.
Moirrey were right surprised when Suvi grabbed her, threw her over one shoulder, and started to run down the hallway at what appeared to be a simply ludicrous speed. She had a great view of Suvi’s butt, and not much else.
The android stopped moving long enough for Moirrey to pop her head up and look around.
Suvi was staring at a hatch in the side of the hallway.
Heaven. It were marked Escape Pod.
“Damn it,” Suvi said.
“What?” Moirrey asked as Suvi set her down on her feet.
“We’re out of time, and that’s a one–person pod,” Suvi replied as the rumbling and shaking got worse. “I can abandon you here, and escape, and never forgive myself, or I can send you to safety and feel good for a few minutes until I die and we’ve failed.”
Moirrey watched the pain, greed, and dejection play out across the android–babe’s face.
She smiled and palmed the lock open. Inside, it were a big, comfy–looking padded seat and a few display screens to keeps you entertained while you went, but not able to actually do anything. Well, not unless you got under it with some tools, like she might have in a pocket.
Moirrey turned to the android–babe and smiled.
“It’s really easy, Suvi,” she said as she took a step and shoved the woman into the hatch.
The android’s reflexes might be good, but surprise were a wonderful thing.
“Moirrey…?” Suvi start to say as the engineer dove in and landed on her lap.
Moirrey kicked the big red button with a foot as the rumbles started to turn scary and smoke and flames appeared. The hatch slammed shut like a bank vault. Emergency straps emerged from the everywhere and tied her down atop the other woman, like they were one, big, landwhale.
“What are you doing?” Suvi said tartly.
“One–person’s a life–support rating,” Moirrey twisted around to smile back at the so–much–taller woman. “You don’t breathe if you don’t wants to. And you dinna consume oxygen if’n ya dids.”
“Oh…” Suvi started to say as the ejection system fired them into the darkness.
And safety.
PART IV: AFTERMATH
Epilogue: Tadej
Date of the Republic July 5, 394 Ladaux
“Senator Horvat?” the voice intruded on his brooding.
Tadej glanced up from the document he was busily consuming. His youngest aide was standing in the doorway, looking positively distressed.
“What is it, Stacia?” he asked.
The government might have fallen, by his own hand, but he was still technically executing power, at least for another nine weeks. Couriers had flown to every corner of the Republic with the news, but conducting snap elections for the Senate was still a massively complicated beast. It took time.
Stacia took two steps into the office, carrying a heavy binder in one hand.
“The latest numbers are in, Senator,” she said simply.
Tadej nodded and set his current papers to one side.
“Your analysis?” he asked, very happy he had transferred her to his personal staff. Judit might appreciate her in the Premier’s office, but he wasn’t about to give her up, not after he had started personally interviewing her former professors about her background.
“We’ll be in the minority, Senator Horvat,” she replied, pulling numbers from memory without once glancing down. “It might be as close as five seats, but the current models predict seventeen, with a margin of error of three. It could have been a bloodbath, but the core voters are responding well to your personal integrity to bring the government down, expel the bad apples, and do so in such a public manner.”
“I see,” Tadej replied.
Forty years in politics could have told him the same thing, but not with the academic rigor Stacia and her assistants would have brought to it.
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Tadej sighed. He had grown fond of the office. It would be sour to have to pack everything up and move across the hall. But at least things would be in good hands with Judit Chavarría taking the reins.
“One other thing, Senator,” Stacia continued.
Tadej looked more closely at his aide. She was bouncing her weight back and forth, almost vibrating with energy.
“Go on,” he replied.
This must be good. She was normally calmness itself.
“Because it would be improper to commit such a thing to paper, I was asked to deliver a personal message, sir.”
Tadej felt an eyebrow go up.
“And just where would you have had such an encounter, Stacia?” he asked, intrigued.
He was rewarded by her blush. Her smile looked remarkably like his youngest daughter right now.
“I was approached in the ladies’ washroom,” she said simply.
Well, that certainly limited the number of sources, and vetted every single one of them. So it was a legitimate message, passed through back channels that recognized her smarts. Better and better.
“It was an informal inquiry, Senator,” she said. “Someone wondering aloud how you might feel about taking over as chairman of the fleet committee in the next government.”
And that limited the inquiry to exactly one person. Nobody else would dare to speak for Judit on something that sensitive. Interesting that she approached Stacia.
And useful.
The Select Committee for the Fleet of The Republic of Aquitaine. Something that existed outside of party politics, staffed by long–serving senators of all parties that exercised operational control of the fleet.
The soon–to–be former Loyal Opposition didn’t really have anyone with the stature to take charge of that group, after the blood–letting he was in the process of supervising. Between losses and retirements, a third of the sitting members would not be returning to the Senate. How many of them would be in prison was a matter for bookies and politics junkies.
