by Ren Garcia
She was decertified for …
She was put into Hack once again for …
And on and on …
She'd lost count of the number of times her usual bravery, strong back, and fairly sharp mind got her out of toil, and then her temper put her right back in again. She lost count of the number of times she had to Com her husband after a promotion to tell him she'd lost it again, that she was back down to nothing … again.
So, there she was, in a work detail—this time, for the last six months, in the green forests outside of Armenelos on Kana. The local Lord wanted to perform some redecorating, and as usually was the case, there were the Marines to perform the hard labor, little more than slaves. He even paid them in Burl—an old Remnath tribe tradition, where, instead of money, she was paid in food and lodging. The food was very good and as much as she wanted, the lodging very comfortable and lacked for nothing, but she'd rather have been paid in money. She'd rather have had something to send home to her husband.
She'd been moderately curious when she was called to the Commander's office that one day. She'd not been in any recent trouble—not that she could recall. She went into the large office and the Commander, a large, formidable-looking woman named Marshall Henbane, and a garishly dressed gentleman—no doubt the Lord of this Holding—were waiting for her.
The two of them looked at her for a time, as if they were sizing up a show animal.
Finally, Marshall Henbane spoke. She told Kilos of an opportunity that had just come up, one that might hold great promise for her.
She was to leave the work detail immediately, rekit with a fresh set of uniforms, and be assigned to the 12th Marines, a shipboard squadron. She was to be the squadron adjutant to the Fleet captain.
Adjutant? Fleet captain? Ship duty?
She couldn't believe what she was hearing at first. She was about to go from a dreary, unpaid work detail to a fairly cushy position aboard a Main Fleet starship of all places.
She had to be dreaming. This couldn't be true.
But as the conversation continued, the dream faded to a genuine nightmare. The things the Commander and the Lord said gave her great pause.
"Keep your eyes and ears open," they said.
"Report back should you hear or see anything … interesting," they said.
"Feel free to … ingratiate yourself with the captain, be pliable, and report his … indiscretions back at once."
Ki knew exactly what this was. Two Great Houses, two Blue Lords, had it in for each other, and obviously, this man—this Lord—was wanting dirt and embarrassing gossip on the captain to take back to the Blue society he no doubt inhabited and cause a stir.
And he was going to use her to get it.
Blue families—that's how they fought with each other, with gossip and humiliation, with loss of face.
And then the conversation got even worse, if that was possible.
"You will do nothing to compromise the safety and operations of the ship," they said.
"You will betray no secrets to the Enemy," they warned.
"You will be executed if …"
Execution. They used the word. If, while she was digging up dirt on the captain, something bad happened, anything at all—even if she had nothing to do with it—she would be executed as a saboteur. A disgraced Blue Lord was much better than a dead one, and this Blue Lord wanted his dirt, but he wasn't going to take the fall should anything happen; she would. That's what she was there for.
She was ready to stand up and thank them for this opportunity and say she wanted nothing to do with it. She'd rather keep on digging trenches.
"We will make it very much worth your while," the Lord said.
He said a Letter of Honor had been penned for her husband so that he could go to school at no further expense. All the Lord had to do was sign and circulate it. And money, there will be money. All she had to do was humble a Blue Lord.
As soon as the Lord had a few good tidbits, the letter will circulate, the money will flow. What was the harm in a little gossip?
She thought about it for a moment.
She accepted. She would do it.
Carrying a duffel bursting with brand-new uniforms, Ki boarded the ugly old transport New Providence and headed to wherever— she wasn't even told. She'd been given a folder regarding her new assignment and a sealed folder she was to give to the captain once she arrived there. As the transport meekly stumbled into the air, she read her folder over.
The ship she was being assigned to was the Seeker, a Main Fleet Vessel of Straylight configuration. Even though she was going to be a spy, a rat, she was excited—a Straylight, the top class of the line. A real heavy-duty starship.
The captain of the Seeker was a man named Davage, Lord of Blanchefort. So, here was the man she was supposed to rat out, humiliate, and scandalize. Her conscience began to settle as the long ride progressed. She wasn't really hurting the man, after all. It was all Society nonsense, and he was a Blue, so he probably had it coming to him anyway. He probably bought his way aboard that ship; he probably had friends all over the Admiralty.
She looked at his record—Blue or not, bought or not, this Captain Davage had earned his merit.
Over a hundred different engagements with the Xaphans.
Four hundred plus enemy vessels sunk.
Two hundred plus enemy vessels seized.
Ten thousand plus enemy combatants captured. She was impressed.
When the transport landed, she couldn't believe it. Instead of a shipyard or Fleet holding ground, they were in a small village—the cold village of Blanchefort, the pilot said. Obviously, this Captain Davage thought the Seeker was his private chariot and berthed a Main Fleet Vessel in his village to please his own vanity. He was probably throwing a party. He might have a lady of standing to please.
Blues … she wondered why she had felt so bad to begin with.
She made her way to the docks, through the crowds of bustling people. There, parked in the half-moon shaped, frigid bay on pylons, was the Seeker. Ki had never seen a Straylight up close. Even though it was mostly submerged, it was huge, the large, spade-shaped frontal section of the hull rising out of the water like a great white bird's head. She could see its hull plating, its closed gun ports, its decks and could make out the tiny forms of people moving about on top of the front section. She could see the tower rising up in the rear section far away. An incredible vessel. Grace and strength perfectly melded together. The closest thing to a starship she'd ever been was to a rusty old Webber that she had to fumigate for fungus before it was scrapped.
A Straylight, battle-tested.
The dock in front of the Seeker was a crowd of noise and activity. There were small shops and colorful vendors selling items from carts. There were pubs and cafes, inns, tailors, artisans, sportsmen, exotic animals, and no doubt, courtesans plying their trade. The Seeker's crew—a mixture of Fleet officers and crew, Hospitalers, Marines, and civilians—milled about shopping, eating at the cafes, drinking at the pubs, and sightseeing.
Behind the village, rising steeply to a lofty precipice, was a huge Vith castle perched in the mountains above the cloud-line. A solitary switch-back road led up to the top. Must be Captain Davage's castle. Beautiful, huge, but sort of scary looking, like a chaotic red pincushion of towers and tall spires. She tried to count the number of spires but gave up after thirty; vendors selling various goods and snacks kept interrupting her, and she'd lose count.
It hit her that the villagers of Blanchefort made a busy and very good trade having the Seeker here, where, otherwise, the village would have been hopelessly remote and ill-traveled. At first, she naturally assumed the Seeker was here merely out of vanity to serve a Blue Lord's whims, but now, she had to wonder. Was the captain, in one simple and elegant stroke, thinking of his people? Was he using his station to enable them to make a fair and honest living?
If that was the case, then this Lord Blanchefort was certainly no Lord Pittsfield.
; Ki found herself wandering around in the maze of shops, and she even saw a few things that caught her eye—a ring or two for her, some interesting books she thought her husband might like. But she had no money.
A short time later she made her way onto the ship. She was overwhelmed with it—the complexity, the size. The places this ship had been to, the action it'd seen. She was due to see the captain soon but found herself hopelessly lost in the vast interior of the ship.
She came across a maintenance tech who was waist-deep in an open panel.
With a dirty arm, he groped about for an intricate tool that had, so far, defied his grasp.
"Miss," the man said, "would you be so kind as to hand me the torque bit there?"
She stopped, knelt down, and handed him the tool.
"Much obliged," he said.
She thought a moment. "Sir, I am here to see the captain, but find that I am quite lost. Could you point out his direction?"
The tech pulled himself out of the panel. His head and frilly white shirt were covered in a clingy sort of black soot. He must be an officer of some sort. He wiped his eyes and looked up at her.
"My," he said, "you're a tall one. How tall are you, if I may ask?"
"I am, using League measurements, six feet, one inch."
"Goodness," he said, "six-one. Remarkable."
She remembered the time. "Sir, I am in a bit of haste. Could you point out where I may find the captain?"
The man stood up. He was taller than she was by a good two or three inches. That was something she wasn't used to—to be shorter than somebody.
"I'm headed in that direction. I will show you the way."
Relieved, she waited for him to put the panel back in place. A moment later they were striding through the twisting passages of the ship, the man, chattering, pointing out this and that. She felt slightly intoxicated by all this. Not two days prior she was waist-high in dirt and landscaping materials, now she was walking with orders through a Straylight. The possibilities, the adventure—it was so exciting. Maybe she could do this. Maybe she could gather something stupid and harmless here and there, appease the Lord, get the Letter of Honor, get paid, and manage to stay aboard … to go where this great ship goes.
Maybe she'd actually like the captain. Maybe they'd get along. Maybe they would become friends.
They went up a few decks and then were there.
A small wooden door sat innocently at the end of the passageway with a brass plate reading: "Captain Davage."
The man knocked on the door and waited a moment.
"Come in," came a soft voice from inside.
"Thank you for showing me the way, sir, but I think I can …"
The man opened the door and held it for Kilos. She nodded and went in.
Inside was a fairly smallish office, a large desk, Com panels, two chairs, and several windows. Ki could see the carnival of lights from the village and the big Vith castle looming in the distance. The walls were lined with pictures of the Seeker and various elegantly dressed people—must be the captain's family.
A woman dressed in a Fleet officer's uniform stood by the desk. Her hair beneath her triangle hat was long and dark red. Her shirt was white and frilly. Her coat was tailed and deep blue and woven with gold ivy. Ki loved Fleet uniforms. The woman's jade-like eyes were set and stern. Her boots were placed on the rug as if bound in stone.
Was the Lord of Blanchefort a woman after all?
Ki squared herself and snapped to attention. "Captain, Sergeant Kilos, 12th Marines, reporting as ordered!"
The woman said nothing. Her eyes were a glowing green, and they were fixed on Ki, fierce and inscrutable. Even though Ki was a fair amount taller than this woman, she felt infinitely smaller. Those eyes, those green eyes, could melt lead.
After a moment, she spoke, her voice as cold and icy as the climate outside. "You are joking, no doubt. Know you not Fleet rank insignia, Sergeant Kilos?"
Ki was confused. She looked at her uniform: blue coat with ivy, black pants, tall black boots over-sized in the Fleet style, large triangle hat, black Command sash decorated with numerous ribbons—certainly looked like a Fleet captain's uniform, but she wasn't really up on it. She didn't know what to say.
"Well?" she demanded, those green eyes catching fire.
After a moment, the sooty man made his way past her and sat down behind the desk.
What was going on?
He smiled. "Lieutenant Hathaline, is that any way to welcome our new adjutant to the Marines?"
Kilos was mortified. This man with whom she had chatted so casually was Captain Davage?
"She cannot even identify Fleet rank, Captain."
"Well, Hath, I'd say you certainly look the part, all stern and frowning all the time."
He turned to Ki. "Sergeant, well met. I am Captain Davage," he said cheerfully. "I am sorry that I am out of dress a bit, but I love working on the ship with my own two hands when I can. She is my great pride."
She squared herself with him and again snapped to attention. "Sir, I am sorry for this confusion."
"It's nothing to be sorry over. Please be at ease and sit, be comfortable."
"Sir," she said holding out a folder. "Here are my credentials."
Davage thanked her and accepted the folder. Marshall Henbane had given her the folder. She didn't have any idea what was in it; the folder had been sealed. He sat back and opened it, thumbing through the pages.
"Hmm," he said, "very impressive. You served aboard the Midnight. Captain Graves gives his compliments. You also had a stint in Fleet Command, I see."
Hathaline rolled her eyes. "Captain, I have her real file here." She stood and held out a blue file. The Captain took it and opened it, leaning over his desk as he looked it over.
Hathaline was furious. "How stupid does Lord Sixtus of Grenville think we are?" she said in an ugly voice to Kilos.
Kilos closed her eyes and felt her heart sink. She had allowed herself to hope for a moment. She stared at the floor in shame.
Hathaline was all over Kilos. "I think I should Stare you off the ship, Brown-head!"
Davage's eyes flashed and snapped toward Hathaline. She looked at him and backed away, his silent warning to her understood loud and clear.
"I am sorry for that remark, Sergeant, it was uncalled for," she said quietly.
The captain continued reading the file. After a moment he closed the folder and set it down on the desk.
"Shall I escort her from the ship, sir?" Hathaline said in a quieter tone.
Davage sat silent. "Sergeant, will you please look at me for a moment?" he said finally.
Kilos looked up, and their eyes met. He had kind blue eyes. Dark blue, Vith blue.
He smiled.
"Sergeant, tell me, you have never been aboard a starship, yes?"
"No, sir, I haven't."
Hathaline seethed, regaining some of her former anger. "She is a spy and an incompetent to boot!"
The words stung her.
"Sergeant," Davage said in a calm, soothing voice, "have you been trained in espionage?"
"No, sir."
"There, Hath—she's not a spy."
Hathaline stood up. "Dav, she was sent here on orders from Lord Grenville, no doubt to dredge up information that he can use against you for any number of sinister purposes, including the subverting of your upcoming reappointment with the Admiralty! You might not choose to be thoroughly enraged over this matter, but I am! Someone has to concern themselves with your social status. If it's not you, then it will be me! You ought to marry me for this endless work I do for you! I don't see why you don't."
Davage ignored her. "It says in your file—the real one—that you have been working in Armenelos for the last six months. May I ask what you were doing there?"
"I …" she could feel Hathaline's eyes boring into her. "I was digging trenches for the Great Lord, sir."
Hathaline just about pulled her hat off and took a bite out of it she was so mad. "Tha
t Blue, Remnath scoundrel! He sends an incompetent, unqualified ditch-digger to infiltrate the Seeker? That is a slap, Captain—a slap on your face, and I'll not have it! I believe he almost wanted this … person … to get caught just to see how you would respond! This is a test, and it's a test you had better pass, Dav! I've a mind to go to Armenelos myself and Stare him down, the fancy git!"
