by Richard Fox
“You sure you’re OK?”
“Worry about the ship. I’ll worry about myself.”
Tolan bumped against the doorway on his way out. He heard the Genevans talking to each other in his cabin and the sound of the sonic shower from the lavatory in the next compartment over.
He picked up his pack and went down the stairs to the cargo hold on stiff legs. The adrenaline in his system had tamped down the worst of his withdrawal, but now his body was making him pay for waiting so long between hits.
Tolan spun open the lock on a small compartment and tossed his pack to the floor. The room reeked of body odor and rotting food. He’d kept Ja’war chained to the walls in this makeshift brig during the long flight from Scarrus. Having anyone on Albion clean the off-the-books freighter hidden in the bowels of the castle would beg too many questions, questions neither Tolan nor Director Ormond wanted asked. So the room remained filthy.
He closed the door behind him as quietly as he could, then tore into his pack. Emergency medical bundles, data slates full of media, outfits from a half-dozen wild-space worlds all went flying.
“Where is it? Where?” Tolan turned the pack over and shook out the last bits of toiletries and spare power cells for his pistol. The silver case he needed wasn’t there.
“No! No no no…” Tolan snatched up a set of grimy overalls and slapped at the pockets.
Thorvald cleared his throat.
Tolan spun around, clutching the overalls to his chest.
“I didn’t…hear you come in,” Tolan said.
Thorvald tapped a small metal case against his leg. Tolan looked at it and smacked his lips.
“That’s mine. Give it back,” the spy said.
“Amoricilia, street name ‘bliss,’ is illegal and dangerous.” Thorvald tossed the case to Tolan, who sat back on his haunches and removed a small injector covered in a riot of colors. He pressed the tip against his neck and gasped.
Tolan fell back against the bulkhead and kicked his legs out.
“I had to do it…Mr. Thorvald. I spent years in wild space hunting Ja’war. You know what it’s like looking for a man with no face? No contacts? Like trying to catch smoke. So I went to a gene slicer and lost my old face…so that I could find Ja’war’s. The surgeon wasn’t as skilled as she claimed. There were some complications with my nervous system, and when you’re on a backwater world chasing down terrorists and your skin starts turning into putty, you take whatever solution is at hand. The bliss got things back under control. The addiction was a little bonus.”
“The Intelligence Ministry accepts that you’re compromised by a narcotic?”
“Ooo…Mr. High and Mighty all the sudden. They sent me and my team to wild space expecting a result—that we bring Ja’war back for trial. Our methods were up to us. I brought that terrorist back to face justice. All that trouble to bring him back when I could’ve spaced him on a hundred different days. Now he’s most certainly dead, if Ormond followed protocol or the Daegon didn’t get to him first. As for my issues…my augmentations and the bliss go hand in hand until I can get to a full genome therapy clinic. There are two that could get me back to my old self. One’s on Rajkot on the far side of Indus space. The other is a pile of burning rubble in New Exeter.”
“The Prince could have come across your narcotics and harmed himself. Salis and I will keep an eye on you. If your addiction causes—”
“Piss. Off. You’re very welcome for the use of my rust bucket to escape Albion. Clearly my health issue is more of a concern than a sky full of warships raining death everywhere. I’ll be sure to make sure everyone we might need help from did all their homework in grade school and has only the purest of motivations. Oh, by the way, who’s that new girl? Doesn’t seem like she’s on the up and up about exactly why you were about to get tossed off the planet.”
Thorvald half-opened his mouth, then shut it.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Tolan slipped the case full of bliss injectors into a pocket and let his head loll to the side. “Make you a deal, bucket head. You keep my problem hush-hush and I’ll play dumb if anyone asks what got you in trouble. Fair?”
Thorvald stepped out of the cabin and grabbed the door.
“I’ll be out in half an hour or three.” Tolan let out a sigh as the drug smothered his nervous system. “Shut…the…”
Thorvald slammed the door.
****
Salis stood beside the cot where Prince Aidan slept. She kept her back to the boy, facing the only door into the compartment. She heard him breathing, the kick of his feet against the thin mattress, and the occasional whine.
Thorvald knocked twice on the door, above and below the handle to signal that he was coming in alone and without any duress. He carried in several freeze-dried packages of food and plastic bottles filled with juice.
“He’ll be awake soon,” Salis said. “He’s too small for another dose of sedative, even if protocol allows for it.”
“Two days to Siam at best speed,” Thorvald said as he laid out the food on a nightstand bolted to the bulkhead. “We’re all he has as far as support and comfort.”
Salis lowered her chin to her chest.
“Once we arrive on Siam, we’ll take him to Admiral Sartorius’ ship. Where we go from there is up to him. Cathay space is a month away, Indus six weeks. You can book passage back to Geneva from any of the core worlds.”
“What?” Salis cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“You aren’t oath-sworn to Albion. By the contract with the royal family, you haven’t taken Andrin’s place on the roster. Our House lords expect you to bring your armor back to Geneva for another assignment. Sartorius knows he can’t stop you if your gestalt isn’t locked to Albion.”
“You think I’d just run back home after what we went through to save this child?”
“We’re not of Albion. We are paid bodyguards. Our home is Geneva and if we are not oath-bound to a client, our loyalties are clear. You should go back home. The House needs to know that the rest of the garrison is lost. I will stay with Aidan until the contract ends or until my last dying breath.”
“But I can…” She turned around and looked down at the sleeping child, his eyelids fluttering with nightmares. “He’s the Crown Prince now, isn’t he? I can take the oath before him. My gestalt will bind itself to him. Then I can stay.”
“Who is making this decision? Your heart or your mind?”
Salis knelt down and reached to Aidan. Her armor pulled away from her hand and she set her palm against his forehead.
“Is it wrong to care? I take the oath, bind myself to him, does it matter if I wish to protect him out of…emotion instead of blind duty? All those years with King Randolph and it didn’t tear you apart to leave him behind?”
“Of course it did.” Thorvald’s hands clenched. “Albion became my home. I would have stayed and fought had the Prince not needed me. This won’t end well, Salis. The Daegon won’t stop at Albion. This war will be worse than the Mechanix incursion, worse than both Reach Wars. If you bind yourself to Aidan, you’ll stay at his side until the contract ends in five years. And then? You think he or what’s left of Albion will have the money to hire us again?”
“A lot can happen in five years,” Salis said. “If I stay on, the House will be paid for the remainder of the contract even if I die in service.”
“You’re young. You could go back and take on another full-term contract and earn even more.”
“We can’t take Aidan to Geneva. Our world takes no official side in any dispute. That most of our adults serve in mercenary battalions across the stars and we take weapons in lieu of payment has kept Geneva out of every war since the first colony ship landed centuries ago. Somehow I doubt these Daegon will respect our well-armed neutrality. If I leave the fight now, it’ll find me again.”
Aidan rubbed his eyes and sat up. He let out a panicked cry and hid beneath his blanket.
“Mommy! Papa!”
Salis’ face broke with emotion for a moment…then returned to stone.
“Aidan? Do you remember me?” Thorvald grabbed a bottle of orange juice and knelt by the bed. “I have your favorite here.”
Aidan lifted the blanket and stared wide-eyed at Thorvald. He buried himself in the blanket again.
“Mommy was red.”
“Does he even understand what happened? He’s what, three? I don’t have children,” Salis said in Genevan.
“He’s never been away from his mother for more than a few hours,” Thorvald said. “Aidan? Juice?”
A little hand reached out from beneath the blankets and Thorvald stuck a small straw into the bottle before he pressed it into the boy’s palm.
“What are we supposed to do for him?”
“Shield him from danger…get him to a safe place.” Thorvald ripped open a packet labelled COOKIES.
Aidan lifted a corner of the blanket and tossed the empty bottle to the floor.
“Mommy?”
Thorvald lifted the blanket. Aidan lay on his side, his hands and knees tucked to his chest.
“My Prince, do you remember the exercises we used to do?” Thorvald asked. “I’m going to be your big brother. This is Salis. She’ll be your big sister.”
Aidan crawled across the bed and hugged Thorvald around the neck. His armor slid away from his chest and lapped against the boy’s sides. The gestalt would have formed a new cocoon, but Thorvald willed against it.
“I want Mommy.”
“I know, little one. I know.” Thorvald patted his hand against the back of Aidan’s head. “I will keep you safe. I swear it.”
“Thorvald,” Salis said, “have your gestalt witness this.”
The older Genevan stood up, still holding on to the child.
+Foolish,+ the gestalt said. +Morgaten knows this.+
Thorvald turned his body so Aidan could see Salis. She knelt on one knee, her head facing the ground.
“I am Fiona Salis of House Ticino. I offer my service to the royal family of Albion in accordance with the laws of Geneva and all binding contracts. For you, Prince Aidan, I will be your shield. Until my last dying breath.”
“She’s silly,” Aidan said.
“If you wish to stay with us, just touch her on the head.” Salis bent over and the Prince slapped her on the top of her head.
“I and my gestalt are one. We witness this oath and will record the deed for our House,” Thorvald said. “It is done.”
He felt Salis’ gestalt sync with his own as his armor unlocked more functions for her. She would have constant location and biometric readings for Aidan now that the last restrictions were removed.
“The King did this with a good deal more pomp and circumstance,” Thorvald said.
“I didn’t think my first oath would be inside a tramp freighter that reeked of old socks…or that I would make it to a child,” Salis said.
“Where’s Mommy? Daddy?” Aidan asked.
Thorvald looked at Salis and raised an eyebrow. Salis sighed and shook her head.
Chapter 15
The Joaquim came out of slip space, wobbling through the transition.
Tolan gripped his controls and fought to bring the ship under control.
“Woah, nelly.” Tolan clicked thruster switches and the distant green world of Siam steadied. Wyman gripped the sides of the astrogation station and gave Ivor a nervous glance.
“I saw that,” Tolan said. “You think I carry a pair of fighters through slip space every day? Speaking of, why don’t you two get those barnacles off my beautiful baby?”
“Soon as you cut the deceleration so we don’t go flying away once we’re outside the inertial dampeners, sure,” Briar said. “The inside of my fighter will smell a hell of a lot better than this crate.”
“This is the thanks I get for letting you drink all my beer.” Tolan tapped a screen. “Give me ten minutes to bleed acceleration. Go get changed.”
“Finally.” Wyman hauled himself out of the chair and pressed past Thorvald standing in the doorway, Briar close behind.
“What’s next?” the Genevan asked.
“Well…” Tolan picked up a headset and held one speaker to his ear. He tapped it against his seat, tried it again, and then tossed it to the ground. “I’m not running my normal stealth suite and I’ve got a pair of Typhoons bolted to my roof like hunting trophies. Given the fleet’s radar capabilities and the normal reaction times, we should—”
“Unidentified vessel, this is Albion ship HMS Endymion. State the nature of your business here and explain why your transponders are off in violation of more safety regulations than I care to list,” came over the bridge’s speakers.
“In wild space, they call our navy the sticks,” Tolan said.
“Sticks?”
“Up our asses.” Tolan flicked a switch and said, “Endymion, this is the Joaquim. I need to speak to Admiral Sartorius aboard the Orion. Code baxter-seven-november-one-one.”
There was a pause and a hiss of from the speakers.
“Joaquim, heave to and prepare to receive boarders.”
“No, Endymion, I don’t think you heard me right. Admiral Sartorius. Code—”
“Code Vermillion,” Thorvald said, “authorization: bulldog three actual.”
“Stand by,” came from the Endymion.
“What’s wrong with my code?” Tolan pulled a small notepad from his breast pocket and frowned at it.
“Expired three weeks ago,” Thorvald said.
“I don’t care what anyone says about you, Thorvald. You’re OK.”
“What? Who’s been talking about me?”
“Joaquim, this is Admiral Sartorius. Switch to this cypher and connect via tight beam.”
“Here we go.” Tolan keyed in the code that popped up on his screen. The image shifted to the Admiral’s ready room. Sartorius walked up to the camera a moment later.
“What is the meaning of this? You can’t just show up and toss around a code vermillion without sending my bridge into a near panic over…why is a Genevan with you in that crate? If he’s there, then that means a member of the royal family is too.” Sartorius’ face went pale as he put the pieces together.
“Admiral,” Tolan said, “we have some god-awful news. I think you’re Albion’s last remaining leader.”
****
The Admiral closed the channel to the Joaquim. Albion occupied. The fleets destroyed. Colonies under attack. He’d served during the last few skirmishes of the Second Reach War…the very thought of something like this was impossible.
His wife had just finished the renovations on their retirement home outside Coventry. A cabin set deep in the pine forests surrounded by the squirrels and hummingbirds she so loved to feed…
He pushed the thought away and straightened his uniform. He was the master and commander of 11th Fleet. There was no time for worry or self-pity. Action would save Albion.
The news he’d just learned could shatter the fleet’s morale if it spread through rumors that would layer on even more panic. Purpose would keep his sailors focused.
“All is well, Admiral?” Jeneck asked from behind him.
The words startled Sartorius, but he played it off by turning and smiling.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” he said. Her demeanor was attentive and curious. She must not have overheard the conversation with the Joaquim. “All the captains will be arriving shortly. Prepare tea for the stateroom, then lay out my void uniform.”
“At once.” She nodded and slipped out of the room.
Sartorius turned back to the communications panel and tapped an icon to open a channel direct to every ship’s captain.
“This is the Admiral. Set alert condition bravo. All ship masters and key staff to the Orion immediately.” The fleet’s ship roster scrolled up the screen. Individual ships went from amber to green as the captains acknowledged the order. Commander Gage’s name stayed amber. The Admiral tapped Gage’s spot and his
location on Siam popped onto the screen. Gage’s name blinked amber. The message was delivered but not acknowledged. He sent the order to Bertram to pass on and swiped the screen aside.
It would take some time for Gage to return to the Orion, time Sartorius didn’t have to wait.
Sartorius opened another channel and Colonel Horton, wearing a construction helmet and covered in dust, looked up at the Admiral.
“Sir? We’ve got the power plant near Can Tho up and running. Should have the distribution lines—”
“Colonel. Prepare to evacuate but do it quietly. Leave all heavy equipment behind. Get personnel back to the ships as soon as possible.”
“What? Sir, we’re finally making some…” Horton stopped as Sartorius shook his head slowly. This wasn’t up for discussion. “What do I tell the Siam?”
“Mandatory celebration for the prism whale arrival, or make something up. I’ll deal with Hu later. Get moving.”
Horton gave a salute and the channel closed.
The Admiral went to his desk and took out a small flask. He took a deep sip of vodka, then looked at the oil painting of Albion on his wall.
“God give me strength,” he said and drank again.
Chapter 16
Dying buildings surrounded the field hospital. The suburbs of Lopburi City were far enough from the shore to survive the meteor-fueled tsunami, but fragments of rock ranging from the size of basketballs to small cars had pummeled the area. The many apartment buildings looked like they’d endured an artillery bombardment with half-collapsed floors and entire sides slouched against battered frames.
The field hospital had been set up overnight as recovery crews and their robots finished searching a nearby neighborhood.
Exhausted army engineers directed their platoons of multi-armed robots as they sifted through rubble, pinging the detritus with gentle sonar pulses meant not to disturb any voids that might still hold survivors.
Gage, wearing simple fatigues and a hard hat, stood off to the side of the field hospital, counting the many black body bags being piled up within a walled off area. He tried to breathe through his mouth as a pair of robots lifted a fallen wall and a gust of wind brought the stench of decay through the air.
