by Terry Mixon
“It’s about time, sir. She’ll be pleased.”
“Major Talbot will be less so, I’m sure,” Yeats said with a smile. “I also have something in mind for your carrier and her escorts. It’s a bit unusual, but I think it’s the best course of action given the circumstances. We really don’t have any people trained in fighter operations, so I intend to keep Zia Anderson in command.
“She doesn’t have the rank for it, but I’m also placing her in charge of the carrier group. The job belongs to a commodore or admiral, but I’m not quite ready to shift any of the existing flag officers to do that, particularly since they don’t have a firm grasp on what being a fighter commander is really about.”
Jared felt the corners of his mouth rise. “She’s going to feel even more out of her depth. She was only a lieutenant when this all started.”
Yeats nodded. “I understand, but we all have to step up. I’m transferring a very experienced executive officer to help her with that. He has a much firmer grasp of running a ship, even with his weakness in fighter operations and unfamiliarity with implants.
“She’ll have to bring him up to speed. Once that happens, she’ll have someone to share the load. Then we can talk about promoting people. I have some thoughts that I’ll share with you about that later.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Now, we have a lot more ground to cover before we can wrap up,” Yeats said briskly. “I’ve got people waiting outside to brief us on the status of our remedial training on Old Empire technology, the drive to recruit the people we’ll need to man all the ships we’re planning to build, the greatly expanded ground forces we’ll require, our transition to a wartime economy, and more. Get comfortable.”
Jared resisted the urge to check the time. This was going to be a really, really long day.
* * * * *
Kelsey Bandar, heir to the Imperial Throne, banged her head on the table in the Imperial library. She’d gone over everything they still had in electronic form from before the Fall and there was no reference to the “key” that Emperor Marcus had mentioned his son Lucien having.
It was infuriating. Surely, the words he’d used in his last transmission meant something.
She’d spent the last month going through the archives of old equipment. There were plenty of keys of one kind or another, but nothing that seemed to have any deeper meaning.
To help sort things out, she’d shanghaied the newly created Doctor Carl Owlet to help. Sir Carl when she was particularly cranky.
He’d examined the data with every tool he’d designed for things like this. Still nothing.
“Excuse me,” he said from behind her. “Are you alright?”
She raised her head and sighed. “Yes. I’m just frustrated. I was so sure there was something here.”
He shrugged. “Apparently not. Is this all the hardware left over from before the Fall?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe we need to take a step back and look at the person rather than the gear,” he said. “Emperor Lucien arrived as a boy. Perhaps he didn’t know what this key was or the person tasked with telling him died in the attack.
She rubbed her face. “His guards shoved him into an escape pod and blasted it free as soon as they got close to Avalon. The rebels still almost killed him anyway.
“He had people with him, but no advisors. He basically arrived with the clothes on his back.”
Carl nodded. “Is the escape pod still in existence? Perhaps they hid something inside it. Or even dropped it there during the chaos.”
Her head came up. “That’s not a bad idea.”
“Of course not,” he said modestly. “I came up with it.”
She laughed.
They’d linked the Imperial Library to an Old Empire computer, so searching the records wasn’t nearly as difficult as it would’ve been a year ago.
“Got it,” she said as the data came up in her implants. “The escape pod is on permanent loan to the Imperial Air and Space Museum. Let’s go give it a look.”
Her guards formed up around them as they headed for the parking garage. She hadn’t wanted to accept the fact she needed them, but being the heir was part theater. The men and women of the Imperial Guard were the price she paid for being one breath away from the Throne.
Of course, since they’d locked her up a month ago, she’d insisted they get implants and be questioned closely about their loyalty to the Throne and her. That had scared off more than a few applicants.
With reason, it seemed. Ethan had had his fingers deep into their number. Follow up investigations were still under way.
She knew the men and women assigned to her were loyal. They wouldn’t turn on her. They also wouldn’t let her wander off unescorted. Dammit.
The trip to the museum entailed her grav limo and two follow cars. Officially. She knew that there were two Fleet fighters circling the area in case she needed heavy backup.
Hopefully, that wasn’t going to be a problem here at home, but considering the number of times things had gone badly, she wasn’t going to complain.
She checked her internal chronometer. “We don’t have a lot of time. I’m supposed to meet Senator Breckenridge for dinner. Probably something political and boring, but the man took a flechette for my father. I owe it to him.”
Carl nodded. “That’s perfect, actually. Angela and I have a little getaway planned. She rented a cabin up in the woods for some quality time. I’m not supposed to know about it, but she has terrible computer security habits.”
Kelsey gave him a stern look. “Just because someone leaves their door cracked open doesn’t mean you should walk in and look around.”
He made a dismissive noise. “It’s as though she left it laying on the counter. She knows I know. I’m not sure what that means, but it’s probably important.” He sighed. “Relationships are hard.”
“Yes, they are. They take work on everyone’s part.”
Kelsey turned her head and smiled a little. He was right, as far as he knew. His girlfriend, Major Angela Ellis of the Imperial Marines, had arranged with Kelsey to borrow the Imperial Retreat. They’d plotted together to leave enough information lying about to give Carl the wrong impression, but not enough to clue him in that they were running a disinformation campaign.
The grav limo landed outside the museum and her guards formed up around her as they went in. The crowds were just as large as one might expect. Wide-eyed kids and equally interested adults examining the artifacts left over from the Old Empire. There was so much to see. More than she’d anticipated.
It had artifacts from before the Fall and from their slow climb back into space. She imagined it would have a number of new exhibits before long.
She’d come here as a kid herself. The thought darkened her mood. She’d had just as much fun as the people around her at her brother Ethan’s side. Now he was dead at her hand. Basically.
He’d tried to kill their father and take the Throne for himself. She’d had no choice. It still hurt. It was like cutting off her own arm. She knew the pain would never fully go away.
A man in a dark suit walked toward her, but the guards stopped him. After a moment, they let him through, though they kept a close eye on him.
He bowed low. “Highness, welcome to the Imperial Air and Space Museum. I’m Director Chandra. How can I be of assistance?”
“Thank you for taking time out of your busy day to meet me, Director. This is my associate, Doctor Owlet. We need to examine Lucien’s escape pod.”
He looked a bit confused at that, but nodded. “Of course. It’s in the main space wing. This way, please.”
It only took a few minutes to get there.
The escape pod had no doubt seen better days, but the museum had painstakingly restored it. It sat in a display that looked like a hillside. The hatch was open and a bold-faced youth stood there looking out. The mannequin was very lifelike, though she knew the boy must’ve been terrified during the real events.
; She started to step over the rope, but the director stopped her.
“I’m sorry, but you can’t go inside. It’s a delicate relic.”
Kelsey smiled at him. “I assure you it’s sturdier than it looks, Director. The Old Empire built to last. We believe there might be something inside that the Empire needs.”
The poor man looked of two minds, but he nodded. “Please be careful. I cannot overstate how historically important this relic is.”
“Sir Carl is our most respected expert in Old Empire technology. I realize this is an unusual situation, but I happen to know we have a number of things we’ve brought back during the expedition that are in need of a good home.”
She could see in his eyes that that made a difference, but didn’t entirely ease his worry. He let them in, though.
When the guards made to follow her, Kelsey stopped them. “There’s not going to be any danger in there. Why don’t you focus on the crowd?”
She and Carl stepped past the false Lucien and into the pod. It was a standard Old Empire model that held two dozen people in zero comfort. Much like a marine pinnace, the passengers were strapped to the walls and packed like fish in a tin. There wasn’t even a control console.
“Do you suppose the power is still on?” she asked.
“Not a chance,” Carl said as he walked deeper into the pod. “The power packs wouldn’t have lasted more than a few months.”
He set his bag down in front of a large access panel. “The power connections are behind here. I have a small fusion pack in my bag for emergencies.”
She knew it wasn’t Mjölnir. The high tech hammer he’d built for her was safely tucked away in her personal armory.
“Exactly what kind of emergencies are you expecting, and why do you need a fusion pack in your bag?”
He grinned at her. “Why do you need the arsenal you carry around? Because it might come in really handy in a pinch.”
She couldn’t argue with that.
It only took him a few moments to open the panel. The power packs were obvious and marked. Their indicators were dark.
Carl pulled out a fusion power pack the size of his fist and started connecting it to the ports. The lights began coming on.
Once she was sure the on board computer had come online, she linked with it. It wasn’t much more than a basic interface, but it had what she was looking for. Records of the descent and landing, both interior and exterior. It also had an encrypted copy of the ship’s logs at the time it ejected. Those might be invaluable.
If nothing else, the records were historically priceless. Now the people of the Empire could see for themselves the moment everything changed for Avalon.
The recording started as soon as the escape pod jettisoned. That made sense. Why waste data storage on non-critical periods?
The interior view showed the pod packed with more people than its designers had ever intended. Mostly women and children. Lucien was easy to spot.
Someone—probably a guard—had strapped him in. The boy struggled free of the restraints as the pod raced away from its doomed mother ship, awkwardly helping a woman with a baby into his place.
Kelsey swelled with pride. That was the man he’d become one day shining through.
The external view captured her attention at that point. The pod was moving rapidly, but Kelsey recognized what the mother ship was. A battlecruiser much like Courageous. The computer labeled her as Lancelot.
Explosions wreathed her as she returned fire at unseen enemies, shielding the escape pods with her own hull and battle screens. Pods continued flooding from her until she exploded without warning.
The pod tumbled badly. A piece of shrapnel from the ship must’ve struck it. The people inside were thrown around like leaves in a whirlwind. Some died. Kelsey could see that as her heart flew into her throat.
Lucien smashed into the wall and somehow hung onto a harness. The woman inside clutched at him desperately. He looked as though his arm were broken.
The pod straightened moments later and entered the atmosphere at what an observer might charitably call an unsafe speed. The external cameras went offline moments later.
Kelsey imagined anyone on the ground who happened to be looking up saw the pod as a finger of fire racing across the sky.
The pod could still sense the surface and it braked hard just before impact. That ripped Lucien free from the woman’s grip and slammed him into the front bulkhead.
Once it was safely on the ground, the hatch slid open and people started trying to get free from their restraints. They had to be afraid death was still coming for them. In their place, Kelsey would’ve been.
Lucien staggered to his feet and cradled his arm. Yeah, that was an ugly break. In that moment, he looked so much like the mannequin it was spooky. Determination steamed off him. It made her proud.
The woman who’d held him tried to help him out, but he shook his head. Kelsey wished there was sound to hear what he’d said to her.
The boy-emperor leaned against the wall and opened a storage compartment. He dug inside and pulled out a pack. He opened it and partially extracted something, obviously examining it for damage. It was an object she was very familiar with. Understanding flooded her.
“Isn’t that…” Carl started.
“The Imperial Scepter,” Kelsey finished breathlessly. “It must be the key Emperor Marcus was talking about.”
Chapter Two
Captain Zia Anderson was certain the crew thought she was crazy, but she couldn’t help herself. Here it was late on third shift and she was wandering the corridors of her new command. Her first command.
The Fleet carrier Audacious was both an Old Empire ship—with all the bells and whistles that implied—and a completely new kind of warship for the New Terran Empire. Fighters hadn’t made a comeback after the Fall, so none of the so-called wiser heads was really sure how to fit them into their battle plans.
That left it to her to come up with fighter doctrine all on her own. Oh, the Old Empire had a ton of books on the subject, but no living person had ever put them to use. Reading something was not the same as living it.
Ever since Princess Kelsey had promoted her and Admiral Mertz had assigned her to command Audacious, she’d been learning and refining what she knew and dragging the crew along with her.
A little more than a month was not enough time to get them even into a modicum of shape, in her opinion. The ship’s crew was coming along nicely, but the pilots in her squadrons were still learning the basics of their craft. Pun intended.
She was learning along with them, though at a slower pace. She’d never been much of a pilot, but anyone that served on the command crew of a Fleet ship knew enough to take over someone else’s station in a pinch. As a tactical officer, she’d sat right next to their pilot—Pasco Ramirez—for years. She could get a ship from point A to B well enough.
That wasn’t nearly enough to fly a fighter well, so she’d been spending a lot of time in the simulators. That meant being there when the pilots were mostly asleep. A captain didn’t make a big display of her ignorance. She had to seem competent at every aspect of her command.
Now, after drilling for a month, she was about ready to take a real fighter out. It had her both nervous and excited. She’d flown with other pilots before, but only under their watchful eyes. This was her first solo excursion.
Zia walked onto the flight deck and found Commander Annette Vitter waiting for her. Vitter was a comrade from her service on Athena, their original ship. She’d been one of their best cutter pilots.
The other woman smiled. “You ready to take her for a spin, Captain?”
The “her” in question was a sleek fighter sitting on the launch rack with the rest of the ready birds. Vitter had had the ready team prep her for flight, but Zia intended to go over every centimeter of the craft before she climbed in.
“You bet,” Zia said. “I’ll start the preflight.”
She couldn’t help but look at Vitter’s
right arm every time she saw the other woman. One day, maybe, she’d be able to forget that the pilot had lost it in a pinnace crash. One that her skill had turned from outright destruction into something barely survivable.
Princess Kelsey had gotten a tourniquet on her quickly enough to save her life and the doctors on Harrison’s World had created this life-like artificial limb that interfaced with the woman’s nervous system just as well as the original.
Vitter had been the obvious choice as the lead pilot and the princess had promoted the woman while she was still in rehab. She’d taken to fighters like a marine to booze and cards, and she was wickedly good.
In addition to her overall command of every fighter on the ship, she personally led Black Jack Squadron. If needed, her second was more than capable of stepping in to take over while the woman guided all of three squadrons in action.
Her title was archaic and hoary with age. It came from the time when the only carriers on Terra were in the wet navy and limited to only atmospheric work. She was the Commander, Air Group or CAG.
Admiral Yeats had been skeptical of the usefulness of the fighters at first. Then Vitter had led her people on a simulated attack run, swarming Orbital One. Even knowing they were coming hadn’t been enough to save the space station. Not then, and not in the follow up runs he’d ordered.
After that, he’d become a fervent convert, running roughshod over any of his subordinates who weren’t as eager to embrace the new technology. He’d taken enough spare fighters recovered from the graveyard to outfit Orbital One and they were still installing the new flight decks there.
A second carrier would be arriving at Avalon in a few more months, but he wanted to have a ready force to help defend against any threats. Unlike when Admiral Mertz had used his in combat, they were significantly more effective in large numbers.
