Damien kept the Crimson Lady in orbit around Goteborg, and had Reyna take over a communications station so he could be confident the information he received was accurate. She would also notify him discretely if there were any other warnings about roundups of Theorists. This was not a mission he wanted to leave to just any ship’s crew. Even though the Crimson Lady was one of the most advanced ships in the Commonwealth fleet, he wanted this operation done quickly and quietly and he could trust only those loyal to House Sten or himself.
“Lord Damien,” Reyna said suddenly.
“Yes?”
“I just got a hit on his ship,” she said. “He's leaving Garda on a course for the stargate.”
Damien narrowed his brow and turned his attention to the strategic tank. “Show me.”
Reyna manipulated some controls and brought up an overlay of Goteborg and the immediate area. Garda hung near the planet and tiny representations of ships were flowing in and out of its hangars. One ship in particular was highlighted then expanded. Data streams emerged on the curved glass of the tank detailing the ship's characteristics: freighter class, seven years old, crew of twelve, registered to Kristoffer of Goteborg (Evers), purchased by Sir Ian Evers (Evers). The last part concerned him. Destination: unknown.
“It's tagged DLT MacCleod, looks like a medium sized converted civilian vessel,” Reyna added.
“I was hoping to avoid any sort of deep space encounter. Has Aaron docked at Garda?” Damien asked.
“Negative.”
“Pull them out of the docking queue and send a priority message to Aaron to intercept that ship,” he barked. “Comms, place an emergency call to the legate's office. I want that ship stopped.”
Reyna cast a glanced in his direction. He nodded sharply, indicating he knew perfectly well the dangers of Starfield Theorists contacting the Azuren. If they even bothered to take his call they might not be able to act in time either and he really had no justification for stopping the ship anyway without needing to explain the incident and reveal more to the Azuren than they needed to know. The less the Azuren knew about the twins, the better.
“I'll pull the logs from his company,” Reyna said. Before she could do so she added, “Aaron is reporting.”
Damien donned a pair of headphones and signaled the transmission.
“Go ahead.”
“We're not going to be able to catch him,” Aaron warned. “Even if he gets in the stargate queue quickly, the Azuren might not put him through customs since he's such a small civilian ship.”
“His course changed,” Reyna reported suddenly. “He's pulled away from the jump queue and is headed deeper into the system. His speed in increasing rapidly.”
“Don't bother with the company logs. Hail him directly, order him to stop his ship,” Damien commanded.
He leaned back in the chair, tapping his fingers together anxiously. Long minutes seemed to stretch on forever. A boarding in space would attract attention. It would be even worse if they had to forcibly stop a vessel that at one point was owned by Sir Ian Evers. The media would catch wind of this and no matter how hard he or House Evers cracked down on them, news would still leak. Something is afoot in Goteborg. The rumor mills would be at full production.
Damien watched the tagged ship travel through the tank passing Goteborg itself and heading deeper into the system. What is the young man up to? There's nothing in the far reaches of the solar system, but a few research stations and a tourist hotspot around the purple gas giant.
After a few moments, Reyna looked back at him. “No response.”
“Just get us closer. The intercept ships are taking too long.”
Damien watched his nephew’s ship icon flash on the screen as the Crimson Lady maneuvered to close the distance. The MacCleod was faster than he gave it credit initially and a big warship like the Crimson Lady would take far too long to get into position.
The icon vanished.
Damien leaped from his chair. “What happened?”
“We lost the signal. Trying to get it back,” Reyna reported.
“How did we lose the signal? He’s in open space,” Aaron murmured quietly, apparently listening in on the conversation from his shuttle.
“Did the sensors fail?” Damien asked, composing himself again. The flame in his mind was flickering with nervous tension.
“No. He jumped out system,” Reyna said calmly. As absurd as the suggestion was, there was no other logical conclusion.
“Impossible. Only the Azuren possess mobile generators. Use of it is illegal on human civilian and military vessels,” Aaron protested, his voice tinny and distant through Damien's headset.
“Illegal, but not impossible, Aaron. Just because someone says you can’t do something doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t. Mere words on paper do not govern. Reyna, start putting together a list of potential systems he jumped to-”
“My Lord General, message coming in from Goteborg Command and Control,” Captain Branah said. “It's a private message, my lord. Urgent,” he added as excuse for interrupting.
Damien sighed, irritated. They must have noticed the ship vanish as well, but the only way they'd have detected the signal loss is if they were tracking it directly. Who else has their eyes on him?
“Route it to my chambers, Captain,” Damien said. He restrained the urge to throw the headset across the bridge and walked smartly to the exit. “Reyna...”
“Yes, my lord,” she said following in his wake.
Once they were safely in the empty corridor Damien spat in sharp tones. “Get Aaron back to the ship immediately. This could be anything.”
Reyna nodded. She knew anything other than absolute obedience when Damien was as agitated as he was. He appeared to be in complete control of his emotions, but boiling under his facade was a barely controlled rage that in his younger years was expelled on the battlefield, but now was more frequently unleashed on his subordinates.
Damien flashed his thumb over a reader and his office door slid open. Reyna followed quietly. He fell into his chair and regarded the blinking light on his screen suspiciously. No good news ever came via urgent emergency channels. He hit the switch.
The sigil of House Sten flickered onto Damien's desk screen and it slowly dissolved into the familiar throne room on Magdeborg. Damien had spent plenty of time in the chamber when his father was Archduke. He and Peter would play there as children while sycophant nobles would often try to amuse and entertain them as their parents watched on in approval.
The camera took in the throne room then slowly zoomed in on the center throne. Salena Teton-Sten sat comfortably in its embrace, her gown regally arranged to show a careful degree of power and feminism at once. She abandoned the purple highlights of House Teton and preferred the deep blue, white and gold of the Sten family. Behind her the Commonwealth's insignia in a stained glass window filtered the mid afternoon light giving the chair and its occupant an aura of divine power. She held herself with a sense of purpose and authority with such skill that even Damien would have struggled to maintain the regal posture.
Damien narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Surely, Salena couldn't be on Magdeborg and certainly not in the throne room.
“Lord General Damien, I hope this message finds you in good health. I felt the need to dispatch an urgent message to you, a warning of a great deception that nearly cost our house our rightful place as Amrah's sovereigns and rightful owners of the title to Magdeborg and all its fiefs.”
His breath caught in his throat. It was the throne room at Magdeborg and Salena was indeed there. Her cape was cinched with the Ducal crest, and the insignia she wore on her shoulders bore that of Senior General, the rank reserved for the Archduke. Or Archduchess it would appear.
When she spoke, her words were clipped and precise to ensure no wasted effort. “I have uncovered a plot by the Sørensens to replace a legitimate Sten sovereign with a fake. Those children Dietrich tried to pass off as kin are not Stens, they have no royal blood, no ri
ght. Urgent action had to be taken. When the Sørensens refused to confess to their crimes, I ordered their removal from Magdeborg and revoked their positions as royal retainers. My troops have swept their armies from the field and secured the Magdeborg throne for the Stens as it should be.
“You are hereby ordered to cease all activities on the border and return to Magdeborg for the funeral of our brother and my own coronation. As one of my first acts as Archduchess, I will end the war with the Dominion. Peace will once again return to the Commonwealth.”
The camera zoomed in a bit closer, as if she were confiding in Damien a great secret. Her appearance softened, if that was possible. “We must mind our family now, Damien. Our brother is dead and I ask you to deliver his eulogy and declare your support for me. We must be united in this and we owe it to Peter to mourn his loss as good siblings and royals would. You would not deny him that honor. We will speak again on Magdeborg.”
The image snapped to black then was replaced by the ducal crest before that, too, faded away. Damien blinked once and stared at the screen. His mind raced through possible actions, drawing on every contingency plan he’d conceived. However, this situation was unique in that it was one he hadn't quite prepared for. Salena capable of a military coup? She could not possibly have had enough force to overcome House Sørensen and take Magdeborg for herself.
She had outmaneuvered him politically and militarily. While he took the indirect approach, she'd gone right for the throat with more naked aggression than he thought possible. Perhaps I have underestimated her.
Reyna cleared her throat reminding him that she was still there.
“It's legitimate,” Reyna said quietly. “The codes are checking out against our logs.”
“So she's done it. She took the throne by force and she intends to keep it. Nothing in the Permi Equation could have predicted this outcome. No equation is so accurate,” he said referring to one of the Theorists' most carefully guarded secrets, an equation they believed could predict the future. Each variable represented an aspect of an individual's personality. When the correct values were inserted Theorists could reasonably determine their actions. Sometimes it was wrong.
“There must have been other factors, my lord,” Reyna said. “They had to have had help.”
Damien mused idly. “Who else is sleeping in Salena's bed?”
“The Masons will be soon when Magnus marries Kendra. That will solidify her control of the throne, but I don't know if the Sørensens are capable of an actual coup,” Reyna said.
“I don't believe it. There are many times Dietrich Sørensen or his predecessors could have taken power during moments of Sten weakness, when my grandmother died in battle or when my father disappeared.”
“But with Peter dying without an heir, you on the border and Salena married off to another noble family. What time could be better?” Reyna asked. “Could she be right?”
“About Kristoffer?”
“Could Dietrich have lied? Maybe he is a nobody.”
“We just saw his ship. He is very real, but whether he is who Dietrich claimed is another thing.” Damien stroked his goatee. “We shall get to the bottom of this.”
“What do we do?” Reyna asked as Damien stood up from his chair to feed the fire burning nearby.
“There is nothing we can do yet. Tell Aaron to return to his ship. You two will be responsible for locating the children, both of them, and protecting Goteborg if the Dominion uses this time to attack.”
“Where are you going?” Reyna asked sharply.
Damien stopped, and sighed heavily. “I am going to Magdeborg, as the Archduchess requested to attend to family matters. To do otherwise would be unseemly.”
Reyna gently put a hand on his right shoulder and rested her head on his left. “It'd not fair what your father did to you. You were the eldest, the throne should have been yours. Then Peter banished you to the border, hoping you'd die at the hands of the Dominion. Now Salena...”
Damien clenched his fists and his jaw.
“They mistreat you,” she whispered. “You have done nothing, but serve them and they have done nothing but plot against you.”
Damien said nothing, but felt his mind wheel in confusion as if he'd drank too much.
“Come on,” she said, pulling towards his bed.
He allowed himself to be taken a few steps then stopped as the fire snapped. His mind cleared. Images of another woman popped into his mind, one lost and abandoned long ago.
“No. It isn't right, Reyna,” he grunted as his feet and heart found traction.
“My lord,” she said, appearing hurt. “Only to help you.”
“No more,” he said, wrenching his arm free and finding steady steps to his desk. “Go on. Do your duty.”
He refused to look at her as she hesitated just a moment, then slowly made her way out of his chambers.
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The fire burned and he took strength and comfort in its warmth. He opened Salena's message again and watched it in vain for hours, playing it slowly, then backwards, hunting for clues, any other variables to add to the Theory's Permi equation intended to reveal the future.
After searching for hours, he could find nothing. It looked like Salena had won.
Kristoffer
Captain of the MacCleod
20 February, 23,423
MacCleod, Mkuranga, Caeph Dominion
______________
“It worked. Fascinating,” Chris said as the MacCleod reappeared in the Mkuranga system now officially in Caeph Dominion space. They were safely on the edge of the last planet’s orbit, far from the star’s zenith and nadir jump stations and, most importantly, out of view of the Azuren and Dominion. There were unlikely to be any patrols this far out in the system.
Proda, the ship's communications officer, frowned and turned to look at Chris. “Before we left Goteborg we had several pings hit the ship. Someone was taking an interest in us.”
Chris waved his hand dismissively.
“I doubt it. They're probably just residual echoes during the jump. Ship based jump systems can play havoc with the sensors,” Kerali said.
Nick shook his head and whispered as if afraid of being overheard. “I don’t like this. If the Azuren catch us out here, we have no explanation as to why we suddenly appeared in the periphery of a system in the middle of a war zone. They’ll have no record of us ever entering the system at their station or leaving Goteborg. Once they find the jump drive and the mask…”
“They won’t. If they see us, we’ll jump out again,” Chris said.
“Once the drives recharge. We’ll be sitting ducks for several hours at least,” Kerali reminded him.
“The Azuren could be out here,” Nick pointed out.
“We're in a war zone now. They’re not going to have patrols because they don’t want to get caught in a firefight between two interstellar states. There’s a possibility that there are still Commonwealth forces in the region,” Chris said.
“Oh good, then we can be boarded by one of them,” Nick grumbled.
“Then we use the back stories Drayton provided us,” Chris snapped back, feeling his patience with his solicitous first officer start to run low.
Nick remained silent, but unconvinced. Granted, the excuses Drayton gave him weren’t immensely elaborate, but he assured Chris and his crew that they would work. If the Dominion boarded his vessel he’d deliver the prisoners as per the initial agreement. He just wasn’t guaranteed payment; it depended on to what authority those forces reported. Drayton labeled that the second least preferable outcome. He’d invested a lot in the black market technology installed on the MacCleod and not getting a return on it was not good for business.
The least preferable outcome was an Azuren boarding party. Trafficking human cargo, possession of an illegal jump drive and possession of an illegal jump mask would probably get the entire crew executed. Chris could see Ojressi placing the Death Ring around his head and asking for his
last words. He wondered if he could hold his composure the way the Starfield Theorist had just before he died.
Probably not. He shook the image away.
Chris pushed himself out of the worn chair and headed off the tiny bridge. If it was going to be a while, he had family matters to attend to.
“Where are you going?” Nick called after him.
“To see my sister,” Chris said. “Watch the bridge.”
Two of the Hronguard soldiers on guard duty glanced at him as he passed by. He wasn't entirely sure how to treat his unwelcome security force. Even now they seemed like more of an admission of guilt than proper protection. If he wasn't carrying anything illegal then why was the ship so heavily armed? Maybe Drayton was more worried about the Dominion soldiers attempting a coup than he was about them being found out. He made a note to check on them later, partly to be a good host and to double check that they were still secured in the storage bays.
Like the bridge the interior of the vessel was cramped and dark. The corridor ran from the bridge through the communications and sensor suite and into the living quarters. Claire had been assigned to the quarters of the ship's former medical officer, Lal. His possessions had been moved into a storage bay as Lal had not offered any next-of-kin to contact. Chris wasn't sure if he even had any being a refugee of the fighting on Dashmar in Unclaimed Space between the human settled worlds and those of the Azuren. Claire had settled in without any complaints regarding the occupation of a dead man's quarters and she'd been busy moving her books in from the same storage bay as Lal's possessions.
Chris knocked on her door and waited for her muffled reply. The door opened and he poked his head in. The tiny space seemed even more so with books stacked into neat piles or scattered across any open surface awaiting attention like tired soldiers. The small table and computer station were littered with papers and books and a model of a solar system Chris couldn't identify. She sat on the small bed that hinged out from the wall as she organized papers into piles there.
Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1) Page 13
