by Blaze Ward
A red band appeared around the border of the screen as Captain Saar’s face appeared. Encrypted. At least enough for now.
“Captain Saar, thank you for taking my call,” Jessica said, patiently waiting for the signal to route and arrive at his end.
“Wildgraf Keller,” he replied after the long pause. “Considering the circumstances, I will presume you have a compelling reason for signaling me?”
“That is correct, Captain Saar,” Jessica said patiently, breathing as the lag ran. “I need to come aboard your vessel as soon as possible. I have information vital to the future of the Empire, but it must be delivered in person.”
There. Nothing more. Nothing useful. Nothing incriminating. No reason to suspect that she had the future Emperor herself aboard Kali-ma, in the middle of a revolutionary crisis.
The man had to read between the lines if he wanted to know.
“And you cannot share more than that?” he asked after a pause. “Even over an encrypted line?”
“Captain Saar,” Jessica replied. “I give you my word as an officer, a Wildgraf, and a Queen, that you will find it interesting. If not, I will immediately return to Kali-ma and bother you no more.”
Unsaid, that she would be in his power. That Battleship might be without Primaries and missiles, but it was still capable of simply annihilating a shuttle at short range like an annoying fly, assuming he didn’t just arrest her when she arrived, seeking to curry favor with the new regime.
Those were the risks at this level of play.
There was a long pause as the man considered.
“Very well, Keller,” he said. “I look forward to your message.”
The line went dark.
“Can we trust him?” Casey asked again.
Jessica looked up into the woman’s glacial-blue eyes.
“This is where the die fighting part comes into play,” Jessica said.
CHAPTER XLI
DATE OF THE REPUBLIC NOVEMBER 8, 398 WERDER, ST. LEGIER
The early-morning fog helped.
Vo and his three men could move quickly in the fading swirls of billowing clouds. Later, it would grow warm enough to evaporate like dew, but for the next hour or so, unseen tides would push it between buildings and vehicles, limiting sight to dozens of meters, instead of hundreds.
Danville had point.
Vo would have said it was like watching a dachshund hound go into a burrow after a rabbit, but no dog had ever moved like that. Weasel, perhaps.
No stores were open this morning. A few normally would have been, but nobody was apparently willing to challenge the curfew yet.
That would probably happen tomorrow, but by then it would be too late to stop this avalanche.
If the Fleet Centurion wanted it stopped.
In his pocket, the comm vibrated silently.
Vo looked around at the alley he and his men were traversing.
“Hold here,” he whispered. “Incoming call.”
Danville nodded without looking. Horst and Street took opposite sides facing each other to watch flanks. Vo moved to one wall for something at his back.
“Arlo,” he said quietly into the comm.
“Vo, are the men with you?” the Fleet Centurion asked simply.
No, she wouldn’t ask that simple of a question. Not her.
The Chess Grandmaster was already nine steps ahead.
Her tone indicated questions about loyalty, not mere presence.
“They are,” Vo answered firmly.
“Armaments?” she continued in her cryptic voice.
“More than expected,” Vo replied.
Indeed. The men were supposed to be completely unarmed when traveling to the Imperial capital. But they had also been on-planet for nearly two months, and had connected with the local black market. Every team had at least one firearm this morning, and every man had a close weapon, be it a knife, a stunner, or a club. Vo had Walter’s pistol, and also ended up with a matte black, telescoping baton that was light as air, fifteen centimeters long, and would pop out to a meter-long club at need.
Just the way to celebrate a wedding.
“You have a mission,” she said.
The words sounded like they weighed a ton each.
“Acknowledged,” Vo replied.
“I will work skyside with the Navy,” the Fleet Centurion said. “Your team will rescue the Flag. Questions?”
There was only one flag in this town. An Emperor in need.
So. That simple.
Cross the Imperial Capital during a daylight curfew in the middle of a revolution. Break into the palace against unknown, renegade forces. Rescue the Emperor and his family from whoever was holding them.
Save the Fribourg Empire.
All by himself.
Navin the Black believed in you. He still does. Fleet Centurion thinks you can do this. She’s always right. Edgar Horst and the men are with you.
Get out of your own damned head and do this.
“No questions, Fleet Centurion,” Vo finally answered in a tone that brooked no questions.
“Go dark then, Vo,” Jessica Keller ordered him. “We’ll talk later.”
And that was it.
Vo closed the comm and glanced at the three men with him.
“After Moirrey,” he said quietly. “Our job is to rescue the Emperor.”
They nodded back, silent.
There wasn’t anything else to say at this point.
Except perhaps see you all in hell.
CHAPTER XLII
IMPERIAL FOUNDING: 176/11/08. IMPERIAL PALACE, WERDER, ST. LEGIER
It was a small and expensively-decorated salon, almost overflowing with people packed uncomfortably together.
The Imperial Princess Ekaterina Stephanya, Steffi, found herself seated on a long couch between her father and her brother. Mother sat in an overstuffed chair, holding hands with Father across the armrests.
Poor, little Lady Yulia sat in another chair, shocked out of rational thought entirely, from the slack appearance of her face. Part of that might be her isolation from her slab and the chance to disappear into her shows. Yulia was not a particularly social creature, being far too much the introvert.
It was what generally made her such a good companion for Casey.
Steffi had no idea where her sister was, why she wasn’t here with the rest of them, dressed in whatever clothing had been at hand when armed men rudely invaded their personal chambers, pointing guns at her and ordering her about, before taking the servants and Ladies-in-Waiting somewhere else.
She didn’t think Casey would have provoked the men, but Steffi couldn’t think of any other reason for her sister to be absent.
And she had started to ask Mother, only to be shut down before the words even emerged from her mouth.
So they waited in silence.
None of the men of Imperial Security were in the room with them, but Steffi knew that a handful guarded the locked door from the hallway. Several others paced on the patio outside the locked windows, guns at the ready and watching everything that might move.
At least nobody had been hurt. So far.
The door opened suddenly into the room.
A hideously-fat ogre waddled in, preceded by the stale flowers of a commercial aftershave that had met its match in the man’s body odor.
Father made to rise, but Mother squeezed his hand. Steffi leaned into Ekke before he did anything irrational.
“General Grundman?” Father asked in a harsh, quiet voice instead.
“Where is Princess Kasimira?” the voice emerged from the many chins like a ghost in the wainscoting.
Silence greeted him.
“Have you checked the starport for stolen vessels?” Steffi asked impulsively. “My sister always had a notion to run away and become a pirate. Perhaps now was simply the right time.”
She heard the man growl in frustration under his breath. Or maybe it was a wheeze, trying to escape the layers of blubber encasing the ugly
walrus.
Mother obviously seemed to want to say something, but restrained herself to a simple grin, as if holding in a bout of giggles.
Casey hadn’t really run off like that, had she? Was that why Mother and Father were so relaxed, facing the situation? Had they helped Casey escape?
Nothing else made sense.
None of this made sense.
Of course, what was daughter Steffi, the so-called practical one, doing, goading Imperial Security and mocking them?
Too much time around Casey, obviously.
“Fah,” the walrus growled. “We will find her. She will simply be first on the list, instead of last.”
He turned and stomped out. As much as his waddles would allow. Ripples in gelatin, perhaps.
Steffi snarled at his back, once it was turned.
The door closed like a vault, or a coffin.
Father surprised her by putting an arm around her shoulders and tugging her close for a kiss on the forehead.
Steffi had never been one for emotional displays, but this was Father. She relaxed and leaned into his strength and his touch.
Maybe Casey would escape all this.
Would she be happy as a pirate?
CHAPTER XLIII
DATE OF THE REPUBLIC NOVEMBER 8, 398 ABOARD ZORRILLO, ABOVE ST. LEGIER
They were in the same seats on the skunk-colored yacht as before.
Jessica turned her head far enough to smile at the Princess, Emperor, seated next to her.
“Will it be safe, flying there?” Casey asked in a tight voice.
“It should be,” Jessica replied soothingly. “Nobody knows you’re here. We’re generally outside of the range of everyone, scooting up and out of the gravity well. This ship has a minimal sensor signature already, and we can always short-hop up to maybe half a light-year if things get really bad.”
“You’ve planned for this,” Casey said in a tone verging on accusation.
“I’ve planned for almost everything, Casey,” she replied. “Almost. And where planning fails, right now for instance, we’ll improvise as best we can.”
Like how to surf the chaos of a palace coup and possible impending Imperial civil war from the inside. Nothing in the manuals or her notes covered this.
Jessica would rectify that when she got home.
Not if. When.
The pilot up front had the comm relay audible in the neck of the yacht, so his Queen could keep track of things.
“Amsel Flight Control,” the man drawled in a reasonable facsimile of Gaucho’s laconic voice. “This is KM-two-zero on final approach. Please confirm your lock seal status.”
“KM-20,” the man at the other end replied in a professional tone. “Seals are green. I show you centered on the beam. Land as you bear.”
“Roger that, Flight Control. See you shortly.”
This pilot wasn’t as silky-smooth as the man who had brought her up with Wachturm, but it was close. He was also flying a combat yacht, and not a purpose-built flag officer’s courier designed to be pleasant.
Still, they landed quickly and the Blackbird’s deck engineers swarmed out to lock everything down and plug them into ship’s power.
Jessica was up quickly, but Willow and Marcelle were still standing before she was. And Casey was getting good at shedding the harness. At least she didn’t stand too quickly this time and bang her head on the ceiling again.
“Boss?” Willow asked apprehensively.
This wasn’t a friendly visit, or an inspection. Everything might be about to go completely sideways, and there was nothing she or Marcelle could do about it except watch.
“I’ll go down alone,” Jessica replied. “You three wait here until we know what’s going to happen.
“Roger that,” Marcelle growled back before Willow or Casey could object. The two women fell silent.
A fist outside banged on the tiny airlock, letting them know that they were in a pressured environment and safe to open the door.
Jessica pressed the inner hatch override and watched both heavy panels open inwards. She took a deep breath and pulled herself up to her full height, however short that might be.
Everything rode on first impressions and political calculations right now.
Weakness would be death. Therefore, be strong. Be dominant.
Be Queen of the Pirates.
Jessica set her jaw and went down the three steps to the deck at a measured pace.
She hadn’t been sure who she would meet, given the crypticness of her original message. She wouldn’t have been surprised to be met by a lowly flight engineer.
Instead, Captain Saar awaited her, with a couple of men who were obviously marines. Bodyguards.
They looked almost as professional, as competent, as Marcelle and Willow.
Jessica would still bet on the two women in a bar fight.
“What would be the correct term of address today?” Saar asked abruptly as she got close. “Fleet Centurion? Wildgraf? Your Majesty?”
It bordered on rude, given the rules of Imperial culture, but it also cut to the heart of why she was here. The man had made a good impression on her before with his professionalism and his instincts. She could cut him some slack in a testy environment.
Still, time to push back.
Jessica forced herself to smile, in spite of the bitter anger underneath. That man’s uniform also provoked her at an unconscious level, even if they were now at peace, just as hers probably did with men like this.
This was not her fight. It was not her war.
“I have been informed that Madame Keller would be most appropriate today, Captain Saar,” Jessica replied tartly.
“Madame Keller?” he said tightly with a slight nod and a tight voice. “I see. Given the excitement of the day that has preceded, what brings you aboard my fine vessel, Madame Keller?”
“First, I must ask your personal opinion of that excitement, Captain Saar,” Jessica said. “I understand that this verges on unacceptably rude in polite company, but the future of the Empire might rest on your answer.”
His face went from serious to closed. It was like watching Vo Arlo when that man folded in on himself and refused further comment. Brothers, however far removed.
It was a promising sign, she hoped. She understood Vo.
Several moments passed. The two gunmen behind Saar were wary, but unmoving, except their eyes.
“Admiral Wachturm has an exceptional opinion of you, Madame Keller,” Saar finally said to her. “Of your trustworthiness. And your tact.”
He waited a moment, but Jessica refused to rise to the bait.
“I find the situation personally distasteful,” Captain Saar continued with the faintest sneer. “However, I am bound by my professional duties to think otherwise. Does that satisfy your morbid curiosity?”
She could almost feel the angry heat boiling off the man, for all the calmness in his face. No doubt, he was clenching his teeth so as not to grind them in front of her. Again, so much like Vo that they could be brothers under the skin.
Walking up and slapping him probably wouldn’t have been as rude as asking that particular question in public, especially today.
“It does,” Jessica replied, calm finally entering her voice. “Sigmund Dittmar stakes his claim on being the closest relative in the line of succession, were the Emperor and his family to fall. Am I correct?”
“That is so, madam.”
The tones were sharper and more clipped. He must really dislike that man. And yet, would no doubt serve him just as loyally, if required.
Jessica kept her face serious.
“And if there was a legitimate challenger to that claim?” Jessica continued. “A better one?”
Saar’s expression closed that last, little bit, like the light going out in the wardroom refrigerator when the door shut in the middle of the night.
“It is my understanding that the entire Imperial suite, Karl and his family, is under house arrest, pending trial for treason,
” he said quietly, verbally probing her suddenly like a bladesman. There was anger under his tones. “Would you suggest otherwise?”
“I would,” Jessica said, parrying deftly. “Would that alter your opinions?”
“It would provide greater options for maneuver, madam,” Saar politely snarled back, a swipe to engender a block. “If it were actually possible.”
“Captain Saar,” Jessica said in her best royal voice, verbally thrusting at him with her main-gauche. “The Red Admiral also has a pronounced opinion of you, as a man to be trusted. I am willing to put myself in your power right now, as an outsider doing what I think is right, instead of what would be politically expedient. Do you understand?”
Saar’s shoulders twitched back at her tone. His eyes slitted. The two gunmen got twitchier, but held their peace.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Captain Saar finally said in a quiet, sharp voice, coming to utter stillness.
But still deadly.
Again, so like Vo.
Not Madame Keller. Your Majesty.
Whether this was a hunter baiting a trap, or a warrior accepting orders remained to be seen.
Jessica nodded. She even smiled at him.
“Princess, if you would,” she called back over her shoulder.
All three men audibly gasped as their eyes found a spot over Jessica’s left shoulder.
Casey’s boots rang on the metal deck as she stepped closer, coming to rest exactly beside Jessica.
“Captain Saar,” Jessica announced quietly. “I present you Princess Kasimira.”
“No,” Casey said firmly, raising her voice enough that even the shocked flight engineers watching silently in the background could hear her. “If the Imperial House is fallen, then I have become your Emperor by right of law and precedent. You will address me as Her Imperial Majesty, Karl VIII.”
Again, the men gasped.
Saar’s eyes flickered to Jessica’s with a moment of unreadable, almost vulnerable, emotion.
Jessica smiled up at the man.
“Options, Captain Saar,” she said finally with a firm nod.
He nodded back.
“Thank you, Madame Keller,” he replied. “I cannot ever repay you the debt of honor you have done me today.”
