The Hidden World

by Melinda Snodgrass

  “God never sends us more than we can bear.”

  “Yeah, I’d like to discuss that with God.”

  31

  A CALL TO ARMS

  The artificial gravity was down. The Estrella Avanzada was still trying to spin, but with the massive damage to the spacestation it just ended up listing back and forth, then jerking forward in a partial rotation. Boho tried to keep from focusing on any set point to hold back nausea. Power was intermittent so the lights kept strobing on and off, illuminating frozen bodies floating through the interior of the destroyed star base. In the central gardens the plants were blackened and dead. He shined his helmet light across the walls to reveal the rents in the skin of the station and the scorched and blackened walls.

  “You getting all this?” he radioed.

  Light years away Mercedes received the images. “Yes.” Her voice was flat, emotionless.

  They had received the distress call from Cipriana four days ago. A report the base was under attack by unknown assailants. They had tried to scramble the ships in dry dock and being refueled, but only a few had managed to untether and face the attacking force. Those that had gotten free had fared no better than the ships that had been docked.

  When Boho had arrived with the rump Gold fleet the region around the base was strewn with pieces of ships, and the base itself looked like a battered honeycomb filled with holes bleeding thin streams of atmosphere. He had made a slow approach, scanning constantly, with a fleet of Infiernos and exploradors scouting far in advance of the big ships. Only when he was sure there was no trace of the force that had attacked the star base did he bring his ships in to the crippled and dying station.

  “How many survivors?” Mercedes asked.

  “A handful. Mostly people who were in the command center. They had quick access to suits and some of the escape pods weren’t damaged in the initial attack.”

  “Cipriana?”

  “The doctors have her in an induced coma. The burns are pretty bad.”

  “We need to talk to her.”

  “I know. They’re going to wake her up so we can question her.”

  “Her family?” Mercedes asked.

  “Husband and daughter are among the dead. Her son was at school and managed to get to the emergency locker and get into a suit. He’s a quick-thinking lad. I’ve got him aboard the flagship.”

  “One small piece of good news. Will Cipri live?”

  “The doctors think so, but she’ll need a lot of reconstructive surgery, Mer.”

  “What do we have on the attackers?” she asked.

  He could see a small part of the study over her left shoulder. Cyprian was there, chubby arms clutching his cat PurrPurr close to his chest as he trotted back and forth across the office. The long-suffering feline’s hind legs swung free and he had a pissed-off expression, but not a claw showed. Unlike Mist who had taken one look at the toddler, hissed, and run away. The chocolate point Siamese was bonded with the child and had been since he was a kitten. Both the cat and the child were two and a half now and inseparable. Cyprian wore blue shorts and a white and blue striped shirt. His pale brown hair with its soft curls brushed at his collar. Boho’s heart squeezed down at the sight of his son. Whatever had attacked the Avanzada was still out there and had to be kept far away from his family. Nothing could be allowed to harm his son.

  “Wha… what?” he stammered.

  “The attackers. Is there video?”

  “I have techs working to see what they can salvage. The command center was badly damaged.” He hesitated then asked, “Are you sure it’s wise to have Cypri in the office with what I’m showing you?”

  Mercedes looked both guilty and resentful. “He’s too small to see the holograph. And I wanted to see him. The past four days haven’t left me with much time to spend with him.” She sat silent for a minute then keyed the intercom. “Elizabeth, please take Cyprian back to the nursery.”

  The woman entered and swept up the toddler, who gave a howl of objection as he and the cat were carried away. Mercedes watched them leave then turned back to the holo. “So, what is the final death toll?” Mercedes asked.

  “We haven’t recovered all the bodies, but extrapolating from the station logs and matching names to the survivors we’ve located we’ve got a pretty good count.” He cleared his throat then said, “Thirty-three thousand two hundred and twelve.”

  “Shit.”

  “Mostly military, but there were a lot of civilian support staff living here too.” A floating corpse bumped into his shoulder and Boho pushed it violently away. “When will you make a statement?”

  “After we talk to Cipriana. I need more facts before we say anything.”

  “I’ll head that way now. We’ve got one small section airtight. We’re treating the wounded there. The ones that are too hurt to move.” Boho placed a boot on a sagging girder and pushed off. “You want to see any more of this horror show or shall I shut down until I get to the first aid station?”

  “Call me back. I’ve seen enough.”

  The sick tension in the pit of his stomach had started to fade. Not because of the bodies, those bothered him very little; it had been fear that the attackers might return. But as the hours bled into a full day, he had begun to relax. Question was—where were they going next? Deeper in League space the stations and bases and planets were better guarded. These parties unknown would be foolish to attempt an assault on settled League space. At least that was the hope.

  He made his way to the one intact part of the Avanzada and entered the makeshift airlock. He shed his suit, and was handed a surgical gown, mask, and gloves by one of the nurses. Only then was he allowed to enter the improvised hospital. Ventilators hissed and pumped; heart monitors beeped, measuring life in moments; nurses replaced IV bags on their skeletal stands. The chief medical officer from his flagship hurried over.

  “We lost three more, sir. Four are ready to be transferred to your ship.”

  “The Rear Admiral Lady McKenzie?” Boho asked. The doctor tipped his hand back and forth in the universal gesture of “iffy.” “I need to talk to her.”

  The man frowned, chewed on his lower lip. “All right, but not too long. I don’t want to lose her too.”

  Cipriana was in a bed shielded by makeshift curtains formed from sheets and drapes taken from shattered living quarters, which were now filled with their dead occupants. Machines kept a vigilant watch over the injured woman. The space smelled of antiseptic and bed pans. A glistening nutrient and antiseptic gel wrapped her naked body. The thick gel obscured any details, but Boho could see the raw flesh on her right side, which had taken the brunt of an explosion and subsequent fire. Cipriana had been one of the most beautiful women in the FFH—now half her face was a ruin. Her right eye and ear were gone; the hair had been burned away as well. Boho swallowed hard, feeling bile burning the back of his throat while pity warred with horror.

  The doctor injected a stimulant into an IV line, and a few minutes later Cipriana stirred, moaned, and her remaining eye opened. The eye darted from side to side and she tensed, cried out in pain. The doctor leaned in but didn’t touch her. “My lady, you’re in a field hospital. You’ve been hurt, but you’re safe now. The consort is here. He needs to speak with you. Can you do that?” She nodded.

  Boho stepped to the side of the bed. “I’m going to link in Mercedes. Is that all right?” Breath hissed between Cipriana’s clenched teeth, but she nodded again. Boho keyed his ring, bringing up the hologram of Mercedes. From his angle he couldn’t see Mercedes’ face, but Cipriana’s grimacing smile told him all he needed to know.

  “Horror show.” Her voice was a raw croak.

  “You’ll be all right,” Mercedes said. “Don’t try to talk. Let us ask questions and you respond.” Cipriana gave an emphatic head shake.

  “My… my family?”

  “Hayden is safe on my ship.” Boho hesitated, then continued gently, “James and Fiona didn’t make it.”

  Tears ran
from her good eye.

  “Cipri, was it the Cara’ot?” Mercedes asked.

  Another emphatic head shake. “Ships… strange… like flying… Swiss army knives with… every… tool… extended.” She gasped for air, whimpered. “Language… ugly… like hearing… hate.” Her moans tore at the air.

  “That’s enough. Let her rest,” Mercedes cried, her voice thick with unshed tears.

  Boho nodded to the doctor who delivered a powerful sedative to the suffering woman. Cipriana fell silent.

  “I’m going to send you some of the bright boys from the war college’s R&D division. See what they can learn from the wreckage. Maybe there will be unexploded ordinance, some way to trace them back to their planet of origin,” Mercedes said.

  “Where do you want me?” Boho asked and prayed for the right answer.

  “Back here. You need to report to parliament, and bring Hayden and Cipri back to Hissilek. We’ll foster him until Cipri recovers.” His prayer had been answered.

  The doctor stepped into range of the camera. “Highness, the rear admiral cannot be moved yet, and while I am certain your physicians are excellent she would be better off on New Hope in the hands of specialists.”

  “All right. We’ll let her go with the other wounded to New Hope. Boho, you’ll need to detail another ship for that.”

  “Will do. Where would you like to send the survivors who weren’t badly injured?”

  “SEGU will want to debrief them, so back to Ouranos. I’ll tell Ian to expect them. Hurry back. Cypri misses you. I do too.”

  Her image faded from the air. Boho contemplated Ian Rogers who had replaced old Kemel as the new head of SEGU. The former head of security for Mercedes was passionately loyal to his empress, bright and brave, but was he devious, cunning, and callous enough for the job? On the other hand, in this military crisis, a former military officer might be the right man. Boho just hoped they weren’t faced with another coup attempt. He wasn’t at all certain Rogers was unscrupulous enough to handle that. Sometimes the honor, duty, sacrifice crap that was drilled into an O-Trell officer was a hindrance rather than a help.

  * * *

  News of the destruction of the Estrella Avanzada had roiled the League. The luxury goods that the Selkie and her crew had been carrying were quickly replaced by rare earth minerals and highly advanced electronics that needed to be moved from factory clean rooms to shipyards, where they could be installed in the new ships that were being built to replace the losses from the aborted coup and this recent sneak attack. Crews were working around the clock, but a battle cruiser couldn’t be constructed overnight.

  The governors of League worlds were howling for O-Trell ships to be stationed in orbit around their planets, but there weren’t enough ships to provide protection everywhere, and some ships had to be detailed to try and discover the location of this new alien threat.

  This had escalated tensions between the humans and the subject races under their rule. There had been incidents on various worlds and cosmódromos. On Nueva Terra a couple of Isanjos had been beaten. On Kronos a Sidone was killed when she was trying to deliver a new shipment of weavings to a shop in the fashionable shopping district, and on Dullahan a Hajin ended up in the hospital with multiple stab wounds and the tendons in the back of his knees cut. While aliens were looked down upon and in some circles even despised, such overt acts were uncommon and for this reason, Tracy had ordered the aliens in his crew to remain aboard the Selkie unless they were docked at one of their home worlds. None of them had taken issue with the order, but it did mean that only Jahan was able to go ashore, since they hadn’t any reason to visit Xinoxex, Belán, or Melatin.

  Tracy had debated making runs to warn the Hidden Worlds with whom they traded, but O-Trell and space control on every League world were carefully tracking every ship in an effort to give warning if the aliens returned, so he reluctantly decided that they couldn’t risk it. Jahan had not been happy and, as if his thoughts had summoned her, she turned up in his cabin.

  Star maps floated on all sides and overhead and he was flicking screens aside to bring up new images.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Trying to guess the aliens’ next move,” he answered.

  She jumped onto his bed and perched in that particular, inquisitive, hunch-shouldered stance of a curious Isanjo. In a different world she might have been mistaken for a very large pet—if the pet had fangs and claws and was four feet tall. “And you think you can do better than O-Trell and SEGU?”

  “I think it gives me something to do other than worry.” He turned in a circle, sweeping his hand through the maps and banishing the images. He sat down next to her on the bed, hands clasped between his knees. “It was such an odd choice of target. Not close to any major planets or bases. It made routine repairs, was a place to refuel and give crews a chance to blow off a bit of steam, but it was hardly strategically significant.” Tracy shook his head. “It’s like it was designed to cause the maximum amount of panic, but not really accomplish anything. And why no follow-up?” He shook his head again and sighed. “But you needed something.”

  “We’re in range for a message—”

  “Yes, I know. I had one from Dad—”

  “One came for Luis. He left the bridge and hasn’t been back.”

  “He’s on duty.”

  “I know. Which is why I came to you. I may be the first officer, but you’re human and if something’s wrong…” She shrugged.

  Tracy clapped his hands on his thighs and stood up. “Probably girl trouble, but I’ll go check on him.”

  Since it was close by, Tracy went first to Luis’ cabin. It was empty. At the ladder he paused. Down to the cargo hold and the makeshift gym, or to the galley? The clink of glass on glass drew him to the galley. Luis was slumped at the table with a highball glass in front of him. He was just lifting away the tequila bottle and the glass was filled to the brim. He set aside the bottle and grabbed the glass, sending liquor sloshing over his fingers.

  “Judging by your coordination this isn’t your first,” Tracy said.

  Luis lifted his head. In the past two years his frame had broadened and the crow’s feet around his expressive eyes added to the impression of greater maturity. Now, though, he looked like a lost child. His expression was bleak and the red in his eyes was due more to unshed tears than inebriation. Tracy took several hurried steps toward him, hand thrusting out in alarm. “Luis, amigo, what’s wrong? Your parents?”

  Luis shook his head and after a couple of off-target stabs at his ring managed to bring up an image. The seal of the Orden de la Estrella was prominently displayed. Tracy’s eyes flicked down the page. …By the power of…You are ordered… nearest enlistment center…failure to report…imprisonment…

  “I’m being called up.”

  “And you don’t want to go,” Tracy said.

  Luis gave a violent head shake. “No, I wanna go. What happened to the base. It could be a planet next. My madre and padre, my sisters are on Reichart’s World. My little brother is stationed at Hellfire. I want to protect them. I just… I just hate to leave. I was a pretty fucked-up kid after I did my seven years. You took a chance on me. Taught me. I… I might even apply for OCS. Get that officer’s braid.”

  Tracy laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’d be a good one. You’ve become a hell of a navigator. I wish I could write you a recommendation. Unfortunately Randall was kept out of the service because of a heart murmur so a letter from the fake me won’t do you much good, and a letter from the real me, a disgraced officer, would probably get you thrown in the brig.” Luis gave a husky laugh. “When and where do you have to report?” Tracy asked.

  “Hellfire. In two weeks.”

  “We’ll take you.”

  “No, that interferes with our delivery schedule,” Luis objected.

  “People will just have to understand. You want to swing by Reichart’s World and see your folks?”

  “That’d be… I mean, i
f it wouldn’t be too much… Yes. Please.”

  “Well, sober up, get our new course plotted and filed, and I’ll let Dr. Engelberg know we’re going to be delayed.”

  32

  FULL CIRCLE

  Hayden McKenzie had inherited his mother’s deep ebony skin and black hair shot through with streaks of red. Her extraordinary beauty had been translated into male form, and as Mercedes studied the boy she knew he was going to grow up to be a man who would break hearts. Right now the expression in his dark eyes was too serious for a boy of thirteen. He was tall for his age, and resembled a young colt, uncertain what to do with his gawky limbs and growing body. Mercedes had been surprised that the Delacroixs and Cipriana’s father, the Duque of Nico-Hathaway, hadn’t immediately taken custody of the boy, but it soon became apparent that Cipriana’s father had washed his hands of his wayward daughter, who had remained in the military and married a nobody rather than serving the family’s goals through an advantageous marriage. So Hayden stayed at the palace while his mother made her slow recovery. Mercedes was happy to keep him. She liked teenagers, and Cyprian adored Hayden. He trotted after this new, fascinating person and Hayden was unfailingly patient with his two-year-old shadow.

  “I’ve only ridden a horse a couple of times,” he said, his voice oscillating between a baritone and a squeak. Mercedes hid a smile.

  “Well, all the more reason to take advantage of our stable. And Señor Krevling is a wonderful teacher. He’ll pick the right horse for you.”

  “Thank you, Majesty,” he said.

  She laid a hand on his shoulder. She hadn’t yet attempted a hug; he was far too self-contained for that. “Mercedes, please. Your mother and I are best friends.”

  “Yes, Ma—Mercedes.”

  He left. She sighed and returned to her desk. She desperately wished she could have joined him on a ride, but it was not possible. Everyone in government was working hellish hours as they tried to move to a war footing. Boho was cajoling and charming members of parliament to round up votes for the increased military spending. In this he had the able assistance of Rohan, who had relationships with many of the older members.