Lord of the Storm

by Justine Davis

  “Oh, no,” Shaylah whispered.

  “Amazing what beating four or five Romerian cruisers will do for your career,” Krayton said, digging at her with an elbow.

  “It was only three,” she responded automatically, her mind racing, looking for some way, any way out. There was none, she knew. It was considered an honor, and she didn’t dare refuse.

  At least this meant she wouldn’t be directly involved in the action, she told herself desperately. She wouldn’t have to fire on the sad remnants of a once proud, peaceful people. It was small comfort, but all she had. She didn’t know what she would have done had she been confronted with the order to attack Wolf’s people. Her mind, her training, might tell her to obey, but to her heart it would be like firing at Wolf himself.

  So instead, she thought sourly, you play shuttle jockey for the man who would direct that attack. The man who was bent on pursuing what little was left of the Triotian people to the death. The man who had rained destruction down upon them in the first place. The man who had cast Wolf into perdition.

  But what else could she do? That helplessness flooded her again, and nausea rose in her throat. Short of murdering the man herself, which would end both her career and her life and do nothing to change the Coalition’s determination, there was nothing she could do.

  No one stood against the Coalition and lived to tell the story. Trios was proof of that. Fiercely independent, the Triotians had steadfastly declined the invitations to join the Coalition, which had its eyes on the rich resources of the planet—especially, with the Coalition’s own mine petering out, the rich field of the pure quartz crystals that controlled the propulsion systems of the Legion. The invitation became an order. Trios had refused to obey. And then the delegation that had delivered that order had revealed their true function as scouts for the massing Coalition forces.

  She fought the unwinnable battle all the way back to the Sunbird. Keleth Swift, her young first officer, lit up at her news.

  “Flagship for the general? Really?”

  “Yes. Call Lieutenant Sarleck, will you, and let him know I’ll be bunking in his sick bay for a while.”

  “You can have my cabin, Captain,” the first officer said quickly, his excitement still obvious.

  “Thanks, Keleth, but no.” I’d rather be at the other end of the ship, she thought grimly, even if it did mean braving the Sunbird’s medical officer’s irascible personality.

  “I’ll pick up what I need from my quarters,” she told him. “Then have somebody go in and give it the once-over, will you?” She managed a rueful smile. “I’m no slob, but I doubt if it’s up to the general’s standards.”

  “Right away, Captain.”

  “You’ll be in charge of the general’s communications.”

  “Me?” He drew himself up, smoothing the perpetually tousled silver hair that marked him as a native of Zenon, and sounding so pleased she could hardly look at him.

  “I’ll appoint you as his aide, if you like.” The young man’s jaw dropped. Shaylah smiled, a little wearily. “Make your points while you can, Keleth. He’s all yours.”

  “Thank you, Captain!”

  Keleth would make a good captain himself someday, she thought as he hurried away. He had all the traits: drive, intelligence, common sense, the ability to think on his feet; he even looked the part, tall, handsome, and proud. And he was still young enough to believe in the glory of the Coalition. As she had been, not so very long ago.

  By the time the general came aboard, Shaylah had herself under control. She was able to greet the man with the appropriate deference and ignore the fact that it was nearly choking her. They went through the protocol of transferring the command of the Sunbird; officially it was now the general’s ship, although she doubted if he’d flown anything himself for decades. In fact, she thought, if she recalled correctly, he’d never gotten beyond helmsman on a transport cruiser in his flying days. He’d maneuvered his way up the ranks from there. She didn’t let herself think about how he’d probably done it.

  “Fine job you did with those Romerians, Captain,” the man was saying briskly. “Feel quite safe in your hands.”

  “It’s an honor to have you aboard, sir.” She wondered if he would notice the flatness of her voice, but he never wavered in his practiced cheer as he greeted Keleth and the rest of the crew gathered for the momentous occasion.

  When he was done, he turned back to Shaylah. “Sorry to cut your leave short, Captain. I’ll see that you get the rest of it when we’ve wound up this little problem.”

  She went cold inside. This little problem. The extermination of whatever remained of the Triotians. “Thank you, sir,” she said stiffly.

  She’d been right, she found as the days dragged by. She saw and heard little of what was going on; her job was to fly the general where he wanted to go, nothing more, nothing less. While they were in orbit, maintained by the ship’s computers, there was little for her to do. With Keleth in charge of communications, it wasn’t difficult to maintain her blissful ignorance. She managed to keep her days full by clearing out the backlog of recordkeeping; her nights were full with no effort at all.

  Every night he came to her, sometimes as she’d first seen him, shuttered and controlled. Sometimes it would be the other Wolf, smiling, relaxed, as he had been in those last days. Sometimes it would be the grim, caged Wolf who haunted her dreams. And on the nights when she awoke with a scream of protest echoing in her throat, it was Wolf as she’d left him, fiercely angry and hating her.

  She’d lost track of how long they’d been circling Trios. She’d taken to spending hours on end here in the observation port, staring at the planet below. From here, safely distant, it looked like any other planet. But nothing could erase what she’d seen after the briefing, as dawning had spread light over the remains of Trios.

  The Coalition weapons had reduced the rich, fertile earth to ash, incapable of supporting life. The waters were murky, clogged beyond redemption with rubble and cinders. Somewhere, perhaps, there was still life, but looking at the area around the Coalition mining outpost in this crystal-rich sector, it seemed impossible.

  “Captain?”

  She looked over her shoulder to see her first officer, looking as if he were relieved to have found her. She hadn’t seen much of him lately—he’d been kept quite busy by the general—and Shaylah wondered if he missed, as she did, the long, rambling conversations they used to have, she enjoying his quick intelligence, he soaking up everything she could tell him with an avidity that reminded her of herself.

  “Yes, Keleth?” she prompted.

  “I think you’d better come to the con.”

  She got to her feet. “What is it?”

  “We just got a report from ground units.”

  She led the way into the corridor. “And?”

  “It seems the Triotians have a fusion cannon.”

  Shaylah stopped mid-stride. “They what?”

  “Yes,” Keleth said grimly. “Last night the surveillance scans picked up a ripple in the energy field. They got a second, stronger reading a while ago, and the results are positive.”

  Shaylah let out a breath, then started to walk again. “How on earth did they manage to get a fusion cannon?”

  “That’s what the general wants to know.”

  The chaos in the conroom made it clear that Corling more than wanted to know, he was demanding an explanation. And whatever Legion Command was telling him over the scrambled channel was not what he wanted to hear.

  “We have no choice! With a fusion cannon, they could destroy an entire squadron with one shot!”

  Shaylah couldn’t hear the response, but it was clear the general didn’t like it.

  “I know it’s impossible, but I’ve got the proof, I tell you!” Corling broke the connection with a furious slap of hi
s hand on the control panel. “Fools,” he snarled.

  He whirled around, and when he saw Shaylah he began to snap out orders. “Set a direct course for sector twelve. I’ll smack some sense into those idiots at Command.”

  “A direct course, sir?”

  “That’s what I said, Captain.”

  “A direct course would take us through Romerian airspace.”

  “The Romerians can spit in the wind. The sooner I get this data to those simpletons, the sooner I can get back and do what must be done. We’ll stop this if I have to blow up the damn place! We can mine crystal on an asteroid as well as a planet.”

  Shaylah choked back a sound of horror. “But sir—”

  “Do it, damn it! That’s an order!”

  Any doubts Shaylah had about his capacity for savagery vanished. This was the man who had overseen the bloody subjugation of Trios and was ready now to finish the job by blasting it out of existence. And ready to enjoy doing it, as well. Shaken, she nodded to Keleth, who walked to the navcom station and set in the course.

  “Maintain second-level watch,” she ordered. They might get lucky and slide through the Romerian sector without contact, but she doubted it. She’d fought Romerians before and won—it was what had gotten her into this mess to begin with—but she wasn’t looking forward to it again. She sat down at the con, then nodded at Keleth.

  “Engage, Mr. Swift.”

  He nodded, and she felt the tug of the ship coming to life as she took over the controls; even the seconds it would take to recover manual control from the computer-set course could make the difference if they encountered a Romerian patrol ship. It was hardly worth the small amount of time they would save. At least, to her it wasn’t.

  She glanced at Corling, who was pacing the conroom restlessly. He was glaring at nothing in particular, and she knew it was not the time to bring up the small matter of the treaty with the Coalition that marked out sovereign Romerian airspace. True, the Romerians had violated it themselves on occasion, such as the time she’d found them mounting an attack on Zenon, but that was no excuse for the Coalition to return the favor. As if the Coalition needed an excuse, she thought bitterly.

  They nearly made it. The sector boundary was on the scope when the sensors clamored. “Target ninety degrees,” the weapons officer said, and she knew their luck had run out.

  “Level one alert,” she barked out. The crew in the conroom began to scramble. “Mr. Swift, try to raise them on ship-to-ship.”

  “We don’t have time for that,” the general countermanded sharply, his pacing stopped. “Stay at present course and speed. Prepare to fire if they try to stop us.”

  “We’re in their territory,” Shaylah said tightly.

  “It’s only their territory because the Coalition allows it. Maintain.”

  “Yes, sir.” She tried to control the snap in her voice. “With your approval, I would like to continue the attempt to establish contact, however.”

  “Very well,” Corling said impatiently.

  Keleth quickly turned back to the comstation. Shaylah heard him speaking, although she couldn’t make out the words over the commotion in the conroom. She watched the sensors, following the blip on the screen that was the Romerian patrol ship as it closed with them.

  “I have contact, Captain!” Keleth exclaimed, one hand on the headset he held, the other on the frequency selector. “They’re ordering us to come about and prepare for boarding.”

  “Absurd,” the general spat out. “How dare they give orders to a Coalition vessel? Ignore them.”

  “A trespassing Coalition vessel,” Shaylah muttered under her breath.

  “They’re within firing range, Captain.” The weapons officer’s voice was deceptively calm. “And bringing nitron torpedos to bear.”

  The general’s pacing stopped once more. For the first time Shaylah saw a flicker of hesitancy in his expression. For one split second, just long enough for the thought to form, she thought of solving a whole cluster of problems by just letting the Romerians fire.

  “They’re arming the torpedoes, Captain.”

  If it had been just herself and the general, it would have been a solution she could live—or die—with. But she had an entire crew to think of, and she had no right to condemn them to death because she’d had a rude awakening.

  “Prepare to return fire, Ensign. Advise when you have the coordinates. Mr. Swift, maintain contact. Explain to them why we’re here.” Shaylah turned to the general before he could protest. “We’ll be considerably more delayed if we have to stop and fight them, sir, than if we can talk them into letting us pass,” she said coolly.

  “Then fire first,” Corling ordered. “Destroy them, so we can get on our way.”

  Shaylah stared at him. “That would surely be considered an act of war against the Romerians!”

  “I have more important things to worry about than—”

  “Captain! The Romerians are responding!”

  Shaylah’s head snapped around. “Identify, and explain why we’re here.”

  Keleth nodded and pressed the earpiece of the comstation headset to his ear. “This is the Coalition starfighter Sunbird. We are en route Coalition Legion Command—” he broke off, brows furrowing. “That’s affirmative, the Sunbird, under Captain Graymist. We are acting as—”

  Keleth stopped, staring at the comstation.

  “What is it, Mr. Swift?” she asked quietly.

  “I don’t understand. They just said, ‘Pass,’ and the channel went dead.”

  “Captain,” the weapons officer exclaimed, “the torpedoes have been disarmed, and the Romerians are pulling away. They’re retreating, Captain.”

  Keleth stared at Shaylah, a grin breaking out on his young face. “By Eos, Captain, they’re running! They found out they were up against the Sunbird, and they couldn’t get out of here fast enough! I didn’t even get a chance to tell them we were only here acting as the general’s flagship.”

  “It seems your reputation is well established in this area, Captain,” Corling said, sounding pleased. “You should have advised me your plan was to scare them off.”

  I couldn’t, Shaylah thought, because it never occurred to me that they’d just cut and run. “Yes, sir,” was all she said. She turned back to Keleth. “Resume course, Mr. Swift. All speed.”

  Shaylah never left the Sunbird when they reached Legion Command. She paced the con-room, Corling’s orders to stand by and await his return still ringing in her ears.

  “I’ll need you to get me back through Romerian space after I’ve gotten Command to see reason. By the time we return to Trios, the Darkstar will have arrived. After that, you may join us or complete your leave, as you wish, Captain. You’ve earned it. Never have I seen a fully armed Romerian ship turn and run the moment they discovered who they were confronting!”

  There had been a time, Shaylah thought as she paced, when even if she hadn’t wished to, she would have joined the battle, knowing it would enhance her record and advance her career. But what had once been so very important to her mattered little now, and she had no doubt what her choice would be.

  When the general returned, Shaylah found herself holding her breath as she waited for him to speak.

  “Set direct course back for Trios. They won’t let me blow the damn planet to bits, but I have a free hand to do whatever is necessary to find that cannon and destroy it, and those damn rebels along with it.”

  Shaylah pushed the Sunbird to the limit; she wanted this man off her ship. They encountered no delays this time and were back in Triotian airspace in record time.

  “Very good, Captain. Prepare my shuttle for the jump to the Darkstar, if you please. I will direct the campaign from my own war room. Will you be joining us?”

  Join a man who was willing to start a war to save
a few minutes? Who was willing to attack without warning, atomizing a ship that was well within its own airspace—not to mention its rights?

  “I think not, General,” she answered stiffly.

  Corling looked surprised. “I see.”

  “I am very weary, and, I’m afraid, not at my best. I would hate to be . . . a hindrance to the operation.” When did I become such a liar? Shaylah wondered ruefully.

  “Of course,” the general said. “I understand.”

  Shaylah glanced at Keleth; he looked so disappointed she had to bite her lip to keep from shaking her head sadly. “Any of my crew who wish to stay may do so, of course,” she said after a moment. “And I would like to offer the services of my first officer as your aide, sir. I believe you have already found him quite efficient?”

  “Absolutely,” Corling said. “I would welcome him. My own aide is busy down at the outpost.”

  “Thank you, Captain!” Keleth smiled eagerly.

  “Take care, Keleth,” she said softly, wondering if she would ever see the young Zenonian again. She felt a pang that surprised her; she’d come to like her young colleague, and would miss him. She watched him follow Corling away, then went to order the shuttle prepared for the general’s departure.

  SHAYLAH FOUND IT difficult to face Califa; the woman who had been a friend seemed so foreign to her now. She’d always been aware of a cold streak in Califa, had seen cruelty from her on occasion when they’d served together, but had excused it because she’d known Califa had had to fight every step of the way to get where she was. And after Shaylah had saved her life at Darvis II, Califa had seemed to go out of her way to restrain her more malignant urges in Shaylah’s presence.

  Even the fact that she, in turn, owed her life to Califa’s quick reactions after an explosion aboard ship when they’d both served aboard the Brightstar didn’t ease the conflict within her now. They were only halfway through dinner, and already she was anxious to be away. She wondered if it was obvious. It must be, Shaylah finally decided, for Califa seemed as ill at ease as she was.