Fire from Ashes

by Sam Schall

  A few minutes later he stepped off the service elevator and into the sub-basement. Motion activated lights came on as he moved further away from the closing doors. Some of his tension eased as he quickened his pace. This was always the tricky part – making sure he covered the distance between the building where he’d been dropped off and his next destination before Embassy Security decided to send someone in to check on what he might be doing.

  Half an hour later, Kalmár dropped onto a chair with a sigh of relief. Not only was he well away from Embassy Row, he was also miles from where he’d been dropped off. For the first time in days, he felt safe, or at least as safe as he could, considering the circumstances.

  “You look troubled, D’anil.”

  He smiled at the man who entered the room. A moment later, he accepted the snifter of brandy and sipped.

  “I am.” He waited for Gareth Idoya to take a seat opposite him. “The Fuerconese are playing it too close to the vest for my liking.”

  “About?” Idoya asked.

  “The attempt by that Callusian taskforce to hit the system.” He took another sip of brandy. Then he leaned forward, placing the snifter on the low table between them. “Gareth, I need your services again.”

  Idoya arched one brow and leaned back, crossing his legs. “I’m listening.”

  “I need everything you can find on that bitch Fertig. Not just what is in her file but everything Watchman has on her, and I do mean on her. If there is something I can use as leverage where she’s concerned, I want to know.”

  “All right.” He looked at Kalmár for a moment, his concern obvious. “What else?”

  “Find out what the Fuerconese aren’t telling us about the invasion attempt.”

  The younger man blew out a breath. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Kalmár nodded. “I am.” He stared into the distance for a moment, trying to decide how much to say. “My first loyalty is and always has been to Midlothian. But I have no desire to become the sacrificial lamb at Watchman’s altar.”

  He all but spat out the last. Midlothian’s intelligence czar might have fooled everyone else but not Kalmár. The first time he met Watchman, he recognized how power-hungry the man was. It wouldn’t surprise him at all to know he was manipulating things from behind the scenes. Watchman excelled at doing just that. He excelled at something else as well – making sure others paid for his mistakes. Kalmár had no intention of being the man’s next victim.

  “Do you want me to deal with Fertig?” Idoya asked.

  Kalmár smiled slightly and shook his head. Watchman might think he held all the cards, but he didn’t. Kalmár had no doubt his friend could make easy work of Fertig. Not only could he kill the woman without batting an eye, but he would do it in such a way no one would find a trace of her. If Kalmár wanted information from her, Idoya would get it for him. But, tempting as it was, Kalmár knew he couldn’t take that route yet.

  Later, if there was a later, he would be more than glad to turn his friend loose against the woman and anyone else Watchman might send against him.

  “Just get me what you can on her. If things go the way I suspect, we’re going to need her.”

  Idoya dipped his chin, anticipation shining in his eyes. Kalmár lifted his snifter and raised it in a toast, feeling better. “Now, my friend, what have you heard about the attempted invasion?”

  If there was more to the story than the Fuerconese had said, Idoya would know. If not, he would tap his sources to find out. It would not be long before Kalmár knew the whole story.

  He hoped.

  Government House

  Caspian Bay, Midlothian

  Alexander Watchman crossed his legs and folded his hands on the tabletop as he listened to the latest in a long line of speakers discussing the current war. Mild interest showed on his face as the speaker continued urging the group that they needed to do more to support their allies. Bethany Waas reminded them of their treaties with Fuercon and the other systems making up the alliance. It was a lost cause as always. Midlothian had a long history of doing its best to remain neutral when war came to the sector. It would “protect” the shipping lanes and give aid where needed but little more and that served Watchman’s purposes just fine.

  Waas took one last look at the dozen men and women sitting around the table and shook her head. Watchman’s expression may have said little but hers spoke volumes. She did not approve of this head-in-the-sand attitude of her fellow members of Midlothian’s “administrative bureau”. Each member represented one branch of the government and supposedly held an equal voice. Not that it fooled any of them. Three of the twelve held the power, at least that was what they assumed. Watchman knew differently but he had no intentions of disabusing them of their beliefs.

  “You speak, as always, quite eloquently, Bethany,” Admiral Horace Boniface commented once the woman took her seat. “However, you know the constraints under which we operate as well as the rest of us. We simply don’t have the manpower or the material to do more than we are to support our allies.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Watchman turned his attention to the newest member of the committee. Rafael Tarpinian returned his gaze without flinching. In his short time on the committee, he had proven to be more well-informed than Watchman expected. Worse, he had a flair for convincing people that his positions were right. That he now openly challenged the myth that Midlothian did not have the resources to take a more active role in the war was troublesome.

  It was also something Watchman planned to deal with now. Otherwise, Tarpinian might just meet an unfortunate accident like his predecessor.

  “You have something to say, Tarpinian?” Admiral Boniface arched one brow and tried to stare the younger man down. Instead, the redhead simply returned his look, smiling slightly when the admiral was the first to drop his gaze.

  “I have seen the budgets for our Navy. I have also reviewed the reports we’ve been receiving from our allies. I would assume each of you have as well. So tell me why we don’t have the resources to do as Bethany asked? Why are we, one of the oldest settled systems in this sector, relying on others to keep us safe?” He paused, pinning each of those sitting around the table with a look that spoke volumes. He wanted answers and he wasn’t going to be satisfied until he got them.

  “We have seen the report about how Fuercon got lucky and happened to have ships in the right place at the right time to repel the Callusian attack. I’ve looked at their reports and have no doubt those ships came through our own system. Why did we not know of their presence? Or did we and we simply failed to pass that information along to our allies?” This time, he looked directly at Watchman, challenging him to deny what he said.

  “I will let Admiral Boniface speak to the logistics of why we can do no more than we are to support our allies at this time.” Watchman sat a bit straighter in his chair. As he did, he felt more than saw how those closest to him tensed. Tarpinian might not recognize the shithole he had stepped into but everyone else did. Their only hope was that it didn’t spread to include them. “As for your accusation the Callusians crossed our space and we either didn’t know or we hid that information from our allies, I suggest you prove your allegations or retract them with an apology. Never has my office worked against Midlothian’s best interest.”

  Of course, that “best interest” might not be what Tarpinian thought. More fool him.

  “Watchman, you don’t fool me, and you don’t scare me.”

  Someone actually gasped at that and a slight smile lifted the corners of Watchman’s mouth. Oh, he was going to like playing with this one. He might even let him live, at least for a bit longer, just to draw out the fun. Soon enough, however, Tarpinian would learn no one challenged him and lived for long. He would either come to heel or he would find himself suffering the same fate as so many others.

  “I’m not trying to do either, Tarpinian.” He inclined his head in the younger man’s direction, a gesture both conciliatory an
d insulting at the same time. “I am suggesting that you might be a little overzealous, shall we say, because you are new to this body. If you have proof of your allegations, or even evidence that would lead to a reasonable inference that what you said happened, I am more than willing to discuss it. Otherwise, I respectfully suggest you Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

  Gone was the genial man who looked more like someone’s loving grandfather. In his place was the man so many had learned to fear over the years. Watchman leaned forward, his expression no longer guarded. His eyes flashed and his smile. . . his smile was the sort that would turn a brave man’s bowels to water. If Tarpinian wanted to play, he’d be happy to oblige in a no-holds-barred, no rules match he had never before lost.

  Tarpinian swallowed hard but didn’t look away. Interesting and definitely something to think about. For now, however, his point had been made and it was time to move on to other topics.

  “I suggest we table this discussion until Mr. Tarpinian either presents evidence to support his accusations or withdraws them,” Admiral Boniface said as if on cue. “All in favor?”

  The others, all save Tarpinian, quickly agreed. Watchman smiled slightly one last time and leaned back, resuming his most non-threatening personas. As he did, he made a mental note to dig deeper into the younger man’s background. There was definitely more to him than he first suspected.

  New Kilrain, Fuercon

  “Damn it!”

  Evan Moreau kicked the battered coffee table, ignoring the quick flash of pain in her toes. It seemed like nothing had gone right in the last few months. It started with that bitch Shaw not only surviving her time at the Tarsus penal colony but making it back to Fuercon and being pardoned. Pardoned! After all the work she’d put in to make sure the bitch never saw another day of freedom, she was not only free but she’d been rewarded for her work in the prior war.

  That had been the beginning of Moreau’s problems. Those she had worked with to set up Shaw and the others had either been arrested or they had turned into liabilities she had to deal with. That meant too many bodies and too many loose ends. Never before had she found herself in such a mess. Worse, she couldn’t slip off-planet and disappear into one of her other identities. Her employers were not the type to simply let her walk away. Nor did they allow for failures.

  She had done the only thing she could. She walked away from the life of Evan Moreau, a comfortable life she’d grown to enjoy. As far as anyone else knew, Moreau had left the planet on business. When she would return depended on how well her negotiations went. In reality, she had traded the Moreau identity for a series of others, each one designed to distance her not only from her previous life but from those who might be looking for her.

  Damn it, she should have gotten off of Fuercon and out of the system when she’d had the chance.

  She tossed her jacket onto one of the two chairs at the small kitchen table and rummaged in a cabinet. A moment later, she produced a glass and bottle of whiskey. The amber liquid caught the light as she poured several fingers into the glass. Then she tossed it back before pouring more.

  Before she could pour herself a third drink, her comm beeped softly. She dug it out of her pocket and glanced at the display. Her upper lip curled back in a sneer and she programmed the incoming message for text only, blocking confirmation that she’d received the message. She didn’t care if it cost her job at the docks. She wasn’t in the mood to explain to her supervisor why she’d left early. Hell, even if she was in the mood, what was she supposed to say?

  Hey, boss, I walked out without saying anything because I saw yet another news vid that reminded me I’m only one step ahead of the executioner?

  She didn’t care he threatened to fire her if she wasn’t in his office half an hour before shift the next day. A slight smile touched her lips at the thought of walking into his office and dealing with him the way she did others who crossed her. The thought of how he’d piss himself in fear as she played with him. It wouldn’t be the same as dealing with Shaw or a few others she could name, but it would be one irritant out of her life.

  Then she could fade into the background again, biding her time until she could finally fulfill her contract. If she managed to get a little personal satisfaction along the line, that suited her just fine.

  In the meantime, she needed to make sure her real employers understood she wasn’t ignoring their orders. It was time to do a little surveillance and then reach out to her contact back on Midlothian. Hopefully, that would be enough to keep Watchman off her back for a bit longer.

  If not, well, she’d managed to stay alive this long. She could do it again. Then everyone who dared betray her would pay. No one played her for the fool, and that included Alexander Watchman and Ashlyn Shaw.

  5

  J. W. Campbell, flagship

  Taskforce Liberator

  Tenasic System

  Lucinda Ortega sat up and groaned. Every muscle seemed to scream in agony. Her right shoulder felt stiff and that knee was swollen. Grimacing as she pushed to her feet, she knew she should see the medics. Not that she would. There were others, too many others, who needed treatment more than she did. But she would stop by long enough to get something to take the edge off the pain.

  That had to wait, however. She had less than half an hour to dress and make her way to Admiral O’Malley’s ready room. When he’d sent word just before she retired for the night of the morning’s briefing, she’d had a moment of concern. It had passed but not before she’d cursed Brigadier General Hale yet again. Six times she had sent a request for reinforcements and six times he had ignored her. All she could do now was pray the enemy really had left the system with its tail tucked between its legs.

  If not. . ..

  She wouldn’t think about that.

  Exactly half an hour later, she entered the Admiral’s ready room. As she did, O’Malley looked up from the report he’d been studying and motioned her to a seat. Then he told her to help herself to coffee. The others would be there shortly.

  Glad to sit, she did as he said. After pouring a mug of coffee from one of the three carafes on the table, she turned her attention to O’Malley. If possible, he looked more exhausted than she felt. Worse, she saw the pain in his eyes and knew it was caused by more than his own injuries. He felt the deaths of each of those under his command, just as she did.

  “Did you get any rest?” O’Malley asked as he reached for his mug.

  “Probably about as much as you did, Sir.”

  He lifted his mug in acknowledgment. Then his expression turned serious. Worried, she waited, wondering what was on his mind. Before she could ask, the hatch slid open and the others began arriving.

  “Settle down,” O’Malley said a few minutes later. He waited as the last arrivals found seats around the table. “Before we get to status reports, I’ve heard from FleetCom.”

  Lucinda leaned forward, praying they were finally going to get the reinforcements they so desperately needed. Even as hope flared, worry fought to drive it back down. If they were getting reinforcements, why did O’Malley look so grim? Damn it, had something else happened?

  “I now know at least part of the reason why we haven’t received any reinforcements from home,” the admiral began. “Last month, Admiral Tremayne led a taskforce that was supposed to drive protect the Drakkana System from a Callusian invasion. It should have been a rather straight-forward mission, much like this one.” A bitter smile touched O’Malley’s lips and somewhere down the table someone cursed softly. “However, the mission went to Hell in the proverbial handbasket pretty damned quick.”

  He reached out and activated the holo screen over the table. A moment later, it displayed the home system and Lucinda watched as icons lit, indicating the taskforce as it began its journey out of the system. When a new series of icons came alive, everyone present seemed to inhale at the same moment. The silence in the room became almost oppressive as they watched the icons near one another before halting.

&nbs
p; “As you can see, we lucked out. The taskforce really was in the right place at the right time. A Callusian taskforce tried to enter the system with obvious ill-intent. When contacted, it squawked out false IDs. Admiral Tremayne sent three ships out to challenge it. The AAR from both Admiral Tremayne as well as Colonel Shaw will be available for your review after this briefing. I suggest you read both reports carefully.”

  Hearing Ashlyn’s name, Lucinda didn’t know whether to smile or do a quick check to make sure the woman was all right. Leave it to her former CO to be in the middle of things. Trouble seemed to find her which, as far as Lucinda was concerned, was a good thing. Ashlyn knew how to take care of herself and her people. But Lucinda also knew the chances of her friend’s luck running out were high. They were Marines, after all, and long lives were the exception and not the rule during war.

  “There is good news, however. Even though the taskforce suffered damage, especially the initial ships that went out to challenge the enemy as well as the LACs used as a defensive screen, they not only held but they managed to force the enemy to surrender.”

  “Ooh-rah!” It was out before Lucinda could stop it. Fortunately, O’Malley looked at her and grinned, obviously sharing her feelings.

  “Ooh-rah, indeed.” For the first time in weeks, he didn’t look quite so exhausted. “As if that isn’t reason enough to celebrate, Admiral Tremayne and Colonel Shaw got the enemy CO to agree to terms of surrender unlike any we’ve managed to get before. The enemy databases were taken intact. That means Fleet Intel is crawling through them, looking for anything that can be used to our advantage.”