Auberon (The Jessica Keller Chronicles Book 1)

by Blaze Ward

  For such a short, pudgy man, he could bring the fire and charisma when he wanted.

  So much of what they did was thus. Was that a weakness of the Republic? The Fribourg Empire could certainly move more nimbly.

  Of course, they were far more subject to the whims of a single man.

  It was the Republic’s luck right now to face a competent Emperor surrounded by a stable and experienced staff, working for the good of the Empire instead of their own parochial yearnings. At least most of the time.

  “So I ask you, First Lord,” the Chairman thundered from his seat, “what have you done to investigate the actions of Command Centurion Keller? Why has she not been ordered back to base and arrested for her crimes?”

  Nils waited for the mild applause behind him to die down. The Chairman was a natural speaker, but occasionally began to believe his own press releases.

  Someone had set the man up today.

  However, they had done it in a ham–handed way.

  The First Lord glanced sidelong at Fleet Lord Loncar, seated so happily in the front row. Nils would have been willing to bet quite a bit of money that Loncar was behind all of this.

  Nils leaned forward and laced his hands under his chin. He put on a serious mien and looked at each of the Senators closely, one at a time.

  It was a game of wills.

  He was not going to lose today.

  Not with these people.

  And tomorrow, he would pay them back. He made sure they understood that from the look he gave them.

  Most had the decency to look mildly chagrined, or alarmed. Those, he marked down as victims of one of the demagogues on the panel, rather than the instigators.

  Finally, he looked backwards over his shoulder, noting that the chamber was open to the public. And someone had paid good money to make sure every seat was full and the mezzanine was packed as well. Standing Room Only.

  Normally even the Opening of a Senate every three years wasn’t this full.

  Nils looked back and around and took the measure of the Chairman.

  By now his energy had dissipated and he began to look unsure of himself. It was almost as if Nils wasn’t following the script someone had prepared.

  Probably gamed it out extensively and convinced themselves they had him boxed in, hadn’t they?

  Nils smiled at the man. Winter had a warmer kiss.

  “Considering,” he began, speaking so quietly that the microphone could barely pick it up over the rustle of the observers, “that my office just became aware of the attack on Ao–Shun by Command Centurion Keller and the Auberon in the last thirty–six hours, we have only now begun to properly investigate it ourselves. I find it interesting that the Senate has apparently been more fully briefed on the matter than the Fleet has.”

  He leaned back in his chair and let that dangle over people’s heads.

  He didn’t think anyone in the Intelligence Services would be so stupid as to send the Senate reports that didn’t also go to his desk, but he was willing to add five or six names on his list for paybacks tomorrow, unless the truth came out sooner.

  “So what would you add to this Committee’s prepared statements for the record?” the chairman asked.

  His voice sounded far less sure of itself than it had a moment ago.

  “These sorts of questions are usually asked under seal, Mr. Chairman,” Nils pounced, “since Fleet operations against the Fribourg Empire are usually handled at the highest level of secrecy. You know, because spies might report things they read in the news. That sort of thing.”

  My. Quite a number of sour faces over there. Hadn’t thought beyond the grandstanding, had we?

  “Further,” Nils continued, “I would find it interesting to know how such detailed information was delivered to the members of this committee. It certainly didn’t come from my office. I learned a few interesting things about the incident just listening here.”

  Heads were starting to turn towards the Chairman. The looks were less than friendly. Other stares settled in on a frumpy brunette two seats to his left.

  Oh, ho. Senator Tomčič, was it? Predictable, I suppose. Often an ally of Loncar and his friends. Usually smarter than this. They must really be upset about Keller and Iger.

  “But,” Nils stuck the knife in, just a prick, thus far, “since you insist on having this out in open committee, I would ask the assembled Senators, and the Senate as a whole, how you came to be in possession of such a rich file of information, when I, myself, only barely have Keller’s reports through a courier, since she, herself, is still out in the field, confronting the enemies of the Republic at my command and your behest. Suggestions, Mister Chairman?”

  Okay, maybe that knife went in a little deeper than intended. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed by a medbot easily enough. If you hurried.

  Tomčič looked like she had swallowed the whole lemon, instead of just biting it, like her neighbors had.

  And maybe I won’t have to exact a bloody vengeance on you people tomorrow, after all. Looks like you’ll handle that for me, won’t you?

  Nils smiled as the Chairman gaveled loudly. The buzz coming from the galleries behind him was getting ugly.

  People seemed upset and confused behind him. Something like the senators in front of him.

  “Sergeant At Arms,” the Chairman bellowed, only audible because his microphone was designed to override anyone else speaking, “Clear the room. This Committee is going into private session.”

  The noise rose to a roar as the crowd started getting shoved out the way by unfriendly and unforgiving gendarme with shock wands.

  Nils rose from his seat amidst the chaos and slipped back into the crowd before the Chairman noticed. He could make it down to his office and have a cup of coffee before they caught up with themselves and realized he was gone.

  Next time, they were going to ask very politely for him to join them.

  He would make sure of that.

  Chapter XXVIII

  Date of the Republic March 7, 393 Qui–Ping system

  Hulls glowed dimly in the distant light of the little red dwarf star they were using as a staging base.

  Denis stood at the viewport and watched the other ships in the squadron as they orbited the lifeless planet below.

  At the center of the resting formation was the cargo freighter they had captured during that first raid on 2218 Svati Prime, after bombing Ao–Shun. They had even kept the name, Johannesburg VI, and taken the crew with them to the Fleet base at Simeon in December.

  That had been an odd trip. Just in station long enough to drop off the prisoners, pick up a skeleton crew to keep Johannesburg VI running as a forward base, and enough supplies to stay out another six months. They had even out–run news of their adventures on the Imperial side of the frontier.

  “So what do I have to do?” Jouster asked from beside him.

  Denis had forgotten the man was there as he had stared at the stars below. He turned to Jouster now, ignoring the lovely vista behind him.

  “You have to convince her, Jouster,” Denis said quietly. “She’s the one that makes that call.”

  “At least Brewster got an opportunity,” Jouster whispered back. They were in a public place right now. Granted, the crew generally left them alone when using the observation dome, but voices would still carry.

  “Brewster showed contrition,” Denis bit off. “And has worked his ass off since. When have you ever been sorry, Jouster? Funny time to be asking for mercy.”

  “I didn’t think she was serious, Denis,” the man pleaded.

  “She’s always serious, Milos,” he replied, “the problem is that you never are. Maybe it’s time you grew up.”

  Denis started to say something else when his personal comm beeped. “This is Jež. Go ahead.”

  Her voice filled the air between the two men. “Denis, could you round up Iskra and Tamara and join me on the Flag Bridge, please?”

  “Right away, sir,” he replied.

 
Denis fixed Jouster with a glare. “Time for me to go to work. Why don’t you go rack up high scores on the simulator on useful missions.”

  “I already have,” came the tart reply.

  “I meant on the escort missions, Jouster, not the hot–dogging strafe–and–melee missions.”

  Denis brushed past him, ignoring Jouster’s surprised face.

  Time to go down to the flight deck to grab the Air Boss. Sounded like she had planned another raid.

  Denis wondered how many more times they could do this sort of thing before their luck finally ran out, like it had for Gustav Papp, Ironside. Eventually, that great gray whale was going to get them.

  At least things were never boring.

  Ξ

  Denis entered the Flag Bridge last, a step behind the Flight Deck Commander, Iskra. Tamara Strnad was already there, with the Flag Centurion and Keller seated at the table.

  He took the last empty seat, between the projections of the other two squadron commanders, warm and snug on their own bridges.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Jessica began, “I’ll make this quick. I want us to depart in six hours and make a high speed run to 2218 Svati Prime. I want to hit them again, at least once, before we head home for rest and refit.”

  “Any particular reason, Commander?” Denis asked. “By now they’ve been reinforced.”

  She nodded in his direction. Not agreeing with him, so much as a placeholder while she organized her thoughts.

  “Two reasons,” she replied. “First, they have been reinforced, but it’s been four months and we’ve hit a number of other systems along the frontier, each farther from the Imperial Capital and the Home Regions. We haven’t gone in a straight line, but planets farther out ought to be on the verge of panic and mutiny by now.”

  She paused to take a sip of coffee and study the group. Denis watched her and did the same with his tea.

  This was the core of what made the squadron so potent. A good group of officers, well in tune with one another, and working to a common goal.

  “The second reason,” she continued, “is something da Vinci picked up at C’Xindo on a barely–secured channel. There was apparently a major Fleet Task Force at 2218 Svati Prime until very recently. The call was a high–ranking politician asking if the force was due at C’Xindo soon enough to track us down. The response was garbled, but suggested that they have gone farther down the line to lie in wait for us.”

  “So, we might have a clear path back, Keller?” Command Centurion d’Maine’s ghost asked from next to Denis, echoing his own thoughts. Would it work?

  Jessica smiled around the group. It was not a pleasant smile, but Denis hardly remembered her actually smiling much in the last six months since she had taken command.

  Had it already been six months?

  “I think, considering the circumstances, it might be the very last place they would think to look for us,” she said. “However, a savvy and sneaky commander might think those same thoughts and bait a trap for us. We have been pushing our luck, running these raids and only returning to home base once, and then only long enough to pick up a pre–packaged weapon’s container full of reloads and supplies.”

  “Is the enemy commander that canny, sir?” Denis asked, playing a hunch based on her vocabulary. He was starting to learn how she thought. Maybe.

  “I believe he is, Denis,” she replied. The smile warmed up several degrees. He seemed to be passing more of her unspoken tests these days. Maybe there was hope for him after all.

  “The Imperial Admiral is Emmerich Wachturm,” she continued. “He was the hero at Iger.”

  Denis had a moment of dis–equilibrium as he watched Kigali’s projection lean forward faster than the camera could compensate. It was like bouncing over the top on a roller–coaster for a moment.

  “Apologies, sir,” he said with conviction, “but I thought you were the hero at Iger.”

  Denis watched her smile turn absolutely frigid in an instant. He was glad it was pointed at someone else this time.

  “If you want to go there, Kigali,” she said quietly, “I might be willing to grant you that I’m the reason we didn’t get our asses completely handed to us at Iger. What Wachturm did for that battle was a stroke of tactical and strategic brilliance well outside the standard Imperial maneuvers manual we like to deride so much. He should have destroyed us at Iger. He nearly did anyway.”

  “No offense, ma’am,” Kigali verbally backpedaled. He leaned back almost as fast as he had leaned forward, upping the vertigo factor.

  Denis was glad he hadn’t had lunch yet.

  “None taken, Tomas. Just understand that he is the best Fighting Lord they have on their side, hands down. And he’s out here somewhere with an Imperial Battleship that outguns this whole squadron all by itself, not counting a half dozen other warships in his Fleet.”

  “So how do we fight him?” Tamara asked. Denis blinked. She had been so quiet he had forgotten she was there.

  Jessica rounded on her hard for a second, and then stopped to take a breath.

  “We don’t, Tamara,” she said. “If he shows up, we run like hell.”

  “And if we can’t?” Tamara continued.

  “Then our little adventure is over,” Jessica replied.

  Chapter XXIX

  Date of the Republic April 8, 393 Ladaux

  By the time he got back to his office Nils was in a slightly better frame of mind. The long walk had ground some of the edges off. Not enough to forget. Maybe enough to forgive. Someone was getting a good yelling at over this.

  The only question was who it would be.

  Kamil met him at the door with a coffee service for two. It took a moment for the implications to sink in.

  “I have a guest?” Nils asked quietly.

  “Aye, sir,” the man replied quietly. “I took the liberty.”

  “I see.”

  There weren’t many people that rated that level of service from Kamil, especially when Nils was out of his office. That drastically limited the options. But improved them at the same time. Kamil had very discerning tastes.

  Nils opened the door to his inner office and gestured Kamil to precede him in. He followed and found his visitor sitting on the comfortable sofa in the corner, waiting patiently.

  Kamil deposited the tray on the desk and looked expectantly at both men.

  “We’ll take care of it, Kamil,” Nils said. “Please see that I’m not disturbed.”

  “Including the Sergeant at Arms and a company of Gendarme, First Lord?” Kamil smiled sarcastically.

  “Make sure they have a warrant first,” Nils smiled back and watched the man nod and depart.

  Nils turned to his visitor.

  The Senatorial robes looked natural on him. He had the air of an actor, with perfect hair and perfect teeth and perfect charm. While he was probably not the single most powerful Senator serving, he was in that handful that made sure things ran smoothly.

  “You sit, I’ll serve,” the man said apologetically. “I invaded your office. It’s the least I can do.”

  So, peace offerings instead of looking for scalps.

  Nils moved around the desk and took his seat. It wasn’t often that the Premier of the Senate offered to serve you coffee. They both had people for that sort of thing.

  “Tadej,” Nil began, “what the hell just happened?”

  Senator Tadej Horvat, Premier of the Senate, retired Fleet Lord of great note, and owner of a giant ranch filled with prize cattle and chickens, looked at him for a moment and shrugged eloquently.

  “I’m not sure yet, Nils,” he replied as he sat, holding a delicate cup in one hand.

  “I have good people,” Tadej continued, “and I pay them well to keep on top of things. They were monitoring the hearing, but hadn’t dug deep enough into those reports to realize what was going on. I’ll be talking to them next, but I needed to get down here before you did something you wouldn’t regret later. Especially since Tomčič is apparent
ly behind it. I know there’s no love lost there, especially since Iger.”

  “Tadej, I have brought charges of espionage and treason against people for leaking less sensitive information to the press,” Nils sighed.

  “I know that,” the Premier sighed back. “And I need to keep this from spiraling out of control into an utter scandal. I was all set to go on vacation next week.”

  Nils smiled. The Premier’s vacations were social events of the first order, with people rushing to book up every hotel room in the vicinity, on the off–chance of being seen with him, or, better, being invited to dine and socialize. Marriages were often arranged and fortunes made at such gatherings.

  “First order of business will be to slap a highest clearance security rating on that report,” he continued.

  “I wouldn’t bother,” Nils replied. “The prepared statements have already gone to the press and there’s nothing else in the report that’s all that interesting. I would appreciate an explanation.”

  Tadej sipped his coffee and watched Nils’ face. “Calm enough now to ask politely instead of bellowing across the bridge?”

  “You planning to be there to referee?”

  “I have no choice at this point, Nils. This little stunt is making the Senate look bad. Petty. Silly. School–yard antics. Somebody needs to be taught to handle these things the proper way. That wasn’t it.”

  “Then,” Nils said quietly, “I would suggest you read Jessica Keller’s personal report right now, Tadej. I wanted to sit on this as long as possible, but I’m not sure that will be possible now. And it makes for such wonderful reading. Especially in light of what went on this afternoon.”

  He slid the folder across the table and sat back as the man sipped his coffee and flipped through the pages.

  Sounds came from him that sounded remarkably like suppressed giggles, but Tadej was far too urbane and sophisticated for that to be the case.

  Nils finished his coffee as a knock came at the door.

  Kamil opened it a crack, just enough to speak, but not be seen. “First Lord, the Sergeant At Arms is here to see you.”