* * *
Watching her sprint off to surgery, Wyatt felt a genuine sense of relief come over him. He liked Katie…a lot. But beyond her sparkling charm, glowing wit, and a smile that, Wyatt guessed, could probably stop the world if she wanted it to, he also knew her to be one of the best in her field.
You’re in good hands, Hamish. Then, clasping what remained of his shredded right leg—the one he’d kept hidden from view so as to hold Katie’s focus on his friend—Kris Wyatt doubled over where he stood and succumbed to the darkness.
* * *
“Northern Star, sound off,” Lee said through rapid breaths and all but ignoring his other pilots while searching his scopes for his wife’s fighter. “Mac, come in.”
“Copy, Daredevil, I’m here,” she finally responded. “All members of Soul Squadron are present and accounted for.”
Lee let out his breath and began checking his display for updates from Lindsay, Jones, Hicks, and his other squad leaders.
“Jester, you and Layla got a copy?” Lee spotted the Keystone several kilometers off his starboard wing.
“Yeah, Top, we’re around,” Link said. “A little charred, but here.”
Lee felt himself begin to relax.
“What in the hell were those things, Lee?” Link asked. “They wiped out more than half our guys en route back to the Keystone, and from the looks of things they did a helluva number on the fleet! Seriously, man, who has that kinda firepower?”
“I got no idea, Link.” Lee ran a quick scan of the roughly eight dozen ships that’d made it out—among them the Keystone, the Hopson, the Davis, and the Gordon. Missing, however, were the Gentry, the Gearhart, the Deckler, and most notably…the Harkens. Lee thought for a second, then re-set his system for another sweep, this time using LORASS to broaden his search…Still nothing.
Come on, Colonel, kick it in the ass and get here, already.
“Lee, you still with me?” Link asked.
Lee jumped back to his comm. “Yeah, sorry Link, I’m here. No, I don’t have a clue what those things were. I do know this, though: whoever they were, we’d be wise to avoid ’em like the plague, at least until we’ve had time to suss out what their stake is in all of this.”
“I can totally get onboard with that plan,” Link said.
Lee shifted his gaze to the motionless carrier just off his port bow, the one with the gaping, scorched hole where a third of its aft-section used to be. “Hey guys, I was just about to report in with the admiral. Y’all wanna hang on the line?”
“Wouldn’t mind, yeah,” Mac said.
“Word,” Link agreed.
Lee switched over to a secure channel. “Praetorian, this is Daredevil. Over?”
No response…
“Praetorian, this is Daredevil. What’s your status?”
This time there was a pop in the static.
“Not good, Commander,” said Lieutenant Floyd, the ship’s comm officer. “We’ve got life support for the moment, which is more than I can say for some of the others, but weapons and propulsion are completely offline.”
“How bad is it?” Lee asked.
“Bad,” Floyd said. “That last jump used up everything we had for FTL. Petty Officer Marlow thinks he can get us partial sublight, but the admiral is actually recalling Chief Si—”
“Marlow, whoa what?” Lee interrupted. “Where’s Wyatt? For that matter, where’s Hamish?”
Silence fell over the comm.
“Chief Wyatt and Assistant Chief Lunley are both in the infirmary.”
Lee felt a chill. “They’re okay, right?”
Floyd didn’t answer.
“They’re okay…right?”
“I…I don’t know much, sir. I just know that Chief Wyatt lost a lot of blood and they’ve got him in the ICU. As for the AC, he’s in emergency surgery now with Doctors Summerston and Nylun.”
“Summerston? What the hell is my sister doing on the Praetorian?”
“I don’t know, Commander, I really don’t,” Floyd said in a rush. “I only know that she was at the infirmary when Chief Wyatt brought Lunley in from main engineering. Right now, she’s leading the team to save his life.”
Damn it, Katie, you never listen! Lee took a second to cool off then re-keyed the comm. “Thanks for the info, Floyd. Sorry if I tore your head off.”
“It’s okay, sir. For what it’s worth, I said a prayer for your friends…not that I think they’ll need it. You guys are a pretty tough bunch, after all.”
“I appreciate that,” Lee said. “I know he’s busy, but can the admiral spare a minute?”
“Hold on…”
A second later, Katahl entered the conversation. “How’s the Kennox, Commander?”
“We lost portions of the eighteenth, twenty-first, and twenty-eighth squadrons, sir, but thankfully most of my guys are present and accounted for.”
“Good,” Katahl said.
“Any word from the rest of the fleet?” Lee asked.
“Negative, Daredevil.” There was no shortage of weight in the admiral’s voice. “According to Mr. Marlow in engineering, it’s going to take us a while to get back on our feet. So we’ve got time to see if anyone else makes it. But to be honest, I’m not optimistic. It’s been a good half hour since the last of our ships entered the system, which tells me we may be it.”
“How about the Harkens?” Lee asked. “You’ve gotta figure, sir, if there was ever a ship built to withstand a poundin’ like that, it was her. Especially with Colonel Ryan in charge.”
Katahl exhaled slowly. “That’s true. But we both know the colonel’s stubbornness when it comes to his people. So considering how many ships were left in the system when we jumped away, you have to know he hung in to the bitter end for as many of them as he could. Even if that meant…”
Katahl’s voice trailed off, and Lee let his head fall back against his seat. In addition to being his flight instructor in Mimic training, Ryan had also been a good friend and mentor over the last five years. The colonel would be missed by a lot of folks.
“Any sign of lifeboats?” Lee asked. “Maybe some of the Harkens’s crew, or some of the others, made it off before she went down?”
“I’ve sent a probe to find out but I wouldn’t dare send a scout back to that system,” Katahl said. “Not right now, knowing what could potentially be waiting for them when they get there. Besides, if I know Masterson, he’s already scooped up anyone left behind and taken them prisoner…or worse.”
Lee cringed, remembering the commandant’s reputation for firing on escape pods.
“Sir, speaking of Masterson and his friends,” Mac piped up. “Any chance they’d come after us out here to push the issue?”
A long moment of static preceded Katahl’s response. “Given what we just saw, I’m sure they could, but I don’t know if the Alystierians are that bold. At our present coordinates, we’re a good two terasecs away from the border, and while Masterson would authorize that strike, I don’t know that Zier would…not yet. It’s too knee-jerk, and he’s too cautious for that.”
“Ruah, sir,” Mac said.
“Just so we’re clear, though, Star,” Katahl added, “I don’t have any intention of sticking around here any longer than I have to in order to test that theory. We’re bugging out of here as soon as we’re able.”
“We got a timetable on that?” Link asked. “Not to sound selfish or anything, but I’m kinda psyched right now to get home to my kids.”
“So are a lot of people, Jester,” Katahl said. “Once all ship commanders have checked in, and we’ve had a chance to reorient, I plan to redeploy what’s left of the fleet to our base on Oranov 3. It’s an easy jump for those of our ships that still have FTL capability and an even day’s sail at sublight for those that don’t. We’ll figure the rest out from there. Just get your crews ready to move.”
“Sir, if I may,” Lee said. “I’ll handle everything on the Kennox that I can. But when the time comes to move out, I’d app
reciate it if you’d allow Mac and me to stay on the Praetorian. We’d kinda like to be there when Hamish and Wyatt wake up. Fair?”
“Ditto for me and Layla, sir,” Link said.
“Very well,” Katahl said. “Return to your ships and connect with your COs for further instructions. I’ll contact you when I know more. Praetorian out.”
* * * * *
Chapter 31: Condemned
Having managed maybe an hour’s sleep at most on the concrete floor of his cell, Danny jerked alert the next morning to the sound of rustling, voices, and keys outside of his cell block.
“Madisyn, you awake?” he asked, using just enough volume so that she alone would hear him.
“Yeah, I’m here. What do you suppose we—” She stopped when the brig door swung open and two guards entered.
One of them, Danny noted, wore corporal’s stripes and flecks of gray in his hair. The other, a private, appeared to be somewhere in his early twenties and carried with him a pair of shackles.
“Morning, guys. Nice day for a stroll, isn’t it?” Danny stepped away from his cell-door and presented his wrists, though he leapt back to the bars when the men moved toward Madisyn’s cell instead of his. “Whoa, what the hell are you doing?”
Neither guard responded as they reached her cage.
“Where are you taking her?” Danny repeated, louder this time. Again, no answer, and he slammed his fists on the bars to get their attention. “Hey, you bastards, I’m talking to you! I said where are you taking her?”
“It’s okay, Danny, I’ll be fine,” Madisyn said with as much calm as a woman in chains could manage. “Really, I’m too big of a chip to harm. I’m sure they just want to talk.”
It was sound logic, but it slid right over Danny. He just kept after the guards. “What do you want with her? Answer me, damn it!”
The corporal stopped at the door while his young partner led Madisyn out, then stepped aside when a third guard wheeled in a monitor and flipped it on.
“What is this?” Danny stared at what looked like a live video feed from the Alystierian Chamber of Ministers on the screen. At present, the room was only about half full, but it was filling up fast. “What is this? C’mon, man, why am I seeing this and what does it have to do with the girl?”
“The commandant will be making an announcement shortly,” the corporal said. “He thought you’d want to see it…He thought all of your people would want to see it.”
Danny knit his brows. “So, what, this is some kind of mass broadcast?”
The guard added nothing more as he turned to go, and Danny locked eyes with Madisyn out in the hall, his heart thundering in his throat.
“It’ll be fine,” she mouthed back. “I love you.”
“Madisyn, wait! I—”
The loud, eerie creak of the door’s steel pierced the air, followed by the thick, metallic kla-klack of the locking mechanism. And suddenly Danny Tucker was very much alone.
* * *
Surprisingly enough, Lucius Zier felt very little emotion upon seeing two hundred sets of judging eyes indict him as he entered the Chamber of Ministers. They were all there, too—Doering, Kean, Felling, Monroe…pretty much everyone who’d ever opposed him, all having come from far and wide to see the reviled leader finally get his due.
I hope you sharpened your daggers, gentlemen, Zier wanted to say to them. He was, however, a bit puzzled by the cameras lining the stage down front. True, it was nothing new to see Max Larson in attendance for a closed-door session of parliament—the press always had some level of access—but rarely had that ever included live coverage. Not for something like this.
Strange, Zier thought. That was when he saw Masterson already waiting for him on stage, and robed in formal-dress blacks, no less, complete with crimson sash, gold trim, and a midnight-charcoal cloak that touched just above his ankles.
“Fine day for a coronation, wouldn’t you say, Commandant?” Zier said with a light chuckle and a healthy dose of innuendo.
Masterson responded with his customary bow.
“Oh, come on, Alec. Until one of us turns on that microphone, it’s just you and me up here. You might at least do me the courtesy of looking me in the eye before you and your mob of sycophants stab me in the back.”
Masterson threw him a smug smirk. “Take a seat, Chancellor.”
Zier answered in kind then proceeded to his throne as the final gaggle of ministers filed in through the back and took their seats.
“Order!” a clerk called from the front, officially opening the unscheduled meeting of parliament. “Minsters of Parliament, I present to you the reigning commandant of the imperial fleet, and the next in line for the Alystierian chancellorship…Commandant Alec Masterson.”
Masterson rose from his seat and approached the podium, his triumphant expression from a moment ago now masked in patriotic conviction with a tinge of urgency.
Zier laughed at the sight.
“Ministers of Parliament,” Masterson began, “I stand before you today not as commandant, or public figure, or even a soldier. But as a dedicated citizen of our great empire…an empire that I fear may stand in the twilight of its existence should we fail to change our course in the days ahead.”
“Hear, hear!” someone shouted from above.
Masterson offered a bow of gratitude in the voice’s direction. “Gentlemen, our civilization was built on the principle of strength. At the conclusion of the Beyonder war, our forefathers vowed not just to their generation but to every one thereafter that our people’s sovereignty would never again be compromised. In time, it was that very ideal that led them to cast off their weak Auran roots to come here, to a world and a doctrine that would let them keep that promise. And oh, what a nation we became. For decades, our fleet stood as a monument to our power, a point made evident in the rapid expansion of our borders. No one dared challenge us for fear of our reprisals…But then came Kendara, and with it the early signs that perhaps our strength—perhaps our leadership—was not what it once had been.”
The commandant approached the crowd, his last statement hanging in the air like a stench. “Kendara,” he said, as if disgusted by the word. “Imagine if you will what our situation would look like today if we’d seized that world when we had the chance. We could have. We had the power, we had the numbers. We most certainly had the right. But did we take that initiative? Of course not. We did then what we’ve done for every meaningful action of our crisis since. We attacked it with fearless…diplomacy.” The term rolled off Masterson’s tongue like vinegar. “Hear me, ministers. I too understand the need for an open, non-confrontational dialogue, and in those instances where said talks can achieve the same end without bloodshed, I’m all for them. However, the tongue of diplomacy is only as potent as the sword behind it—a sword, I’d add, which this chancellor has shown time and time again that he refuses to wield. And what has that earned us? Weaker borders? Dwindling resources? An increasingly despondent fleet? Most importantly, it has given the Aurans time to construct a war machine unlike anything we’ve ever seen—a machine that would’ve dealt us a crippling blow in the rim yesterday were it not for the Kurgorians’ aid. Thaylon, Fyndahl, Vendale 2, Marlon 3…All worlds thought untouchable a half-decade ago, and now whose are they?”
An audible stir swept through the room, and Zier could feel the veil beginning to fall.
“So when does it end?” Masterson stretched out his hands. “Where is the line in the sand that declares to our enemies, Enough! Minsters of Parliament, this is not about the Kurgorian treaty, although I’d urge you to reconsider your decision on that as well. No, this is about nothing less than the very fate of our way of life. Sweeping, systemic change must happen this day, and if I may make a suggestion, we needn’t look further than our own history books to find it. We were a great nation once, a strong nation, and we can be again. But it’s up to you as the governing body of this empire to craft and enforce policies that give her that strength.” Masterson raised
a finger. “At the risk of offense, gentlemen, it’s why you’re here.”
With that, the commandant shot a final disdainful look to Zier then resumed his seat.
“Does the chancellor have a response?” the clerk asked over the rumble of an increasingly vocal crowd.
Zier couldn’t blame them. It’d been a great speech, even if the vast majority of it had been total slaring propaganda nonsense.
“Well done, Commandant Masterson.” Zier rose from his throne with mock applause. “Well done, indeed. I must say, for all of your rags-to-riches, ‘just one of the men’ bravado, you’ve played this better than any politician I’ve ever seen. Truly, gentlemen, I tell you this man was made to be one of us. Cunning, ambition, drive, the will to act…Indeed, these are the traits of fine leadership. But…might they also be the traits of a tyrant?” This time it was Zier’s turn to let the innuendo hang before continuing. “Patriots of Alystier, I understand as well as anyone, if not better, the principles this empire was founded on. I’ve lived with them my entire life. Nonetheless, as leaders, we must all find our own path, and while mine may have lacked the military fervor of my father, I’d submit to you that no one has done more for the growth and prosperity of our people than I. The education of our youth, the extension of our borders, the care of our veterans—”
“The loss at Dulaston,” someone shouted from the back.
Zier paused with a pensive stare at the floor. “Yes, Dulaston. I’ll confess to you, brothers, I never liked that mission from the beginning. My instincts at the time told me it was too aggressive, too fast, and in hindsight I should’ve listened. I would point out, however, that things might’ve gone differently at Dulaston had I known of the Aurans’ Mako program.” Zier’s stare locked on Masterson. “But that’s neither here nor there. In the end, it was I who ordered that mission, and thus it is I who must bear the blame for its failure.”
“And have we not been handcuffed by that failure for long enough?” Minister Felling asked plainly. “Sir, you mentioned the Aurans’ Mako program. Well, like them or not, the Kurgorians can give us Makos of our own, and a lot more if we’ll only let them. C-100 engines, armor, weapons…they’ve pledged us all of it! Furthermore, their ships in orbit? The ones that saved our forces at Kyma? They’ve already begun allowing our contractors onboard to start assessing our needs for a retrofit, and technically we’re not even their allies yet!” Felling threw up his hands. “Tell me, Chancellor. What more must these people do to earn our trust?”
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