Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1)

by Brian Frederico

  “Technical equipment and spare parts for the Loring station at Letterkenny-”

  The female rolled her eyes. “If that were the case you wouldn't have been using an illegal jump drive and mask.”

  “Good thing we were, or else we'd have all been killed when the Lotus jumped us at Goteborg,” Chris said. “But what I want to know is how did you know our entry point? I figured you were tracking me long before the jump,” Chris said, pushing on the offensive. “What were you doing tracking private vessels? Shouldn't you be looking out for the Dominion? They've done far more damage to the Commonwealth than me.”

  “Mind your words. You're addressing royalty,” Reyna reminded him harshly.

  “Reyna,” Mercer-Sten said quietly, reeling in his officer. She seethed at him.

  “The point,” Sir Aaron continued, “is that you didn't use the Azuren stargates. That implies you're trying to hide something. You used illegal technologies and traveled across the borders of two warring states. We need to detain you here until you tell us what exactly you were doing.”

  “You can't hold us. Drayton will file a complaint with the Azuren Legate and they'll become involved in this mess,” Chris said gambling.

  “Don't be stupid. Your boss won't save your skins if you've been doing something illegal. It is far safer to sacrifice you to protect himself. Besides, the Azuren don't usually care to get involved with human affairs. I don't think they will appreciate you avoiding their gates and taxes. Help your crew, Kristoffer, just tell us what you were hauling and we can start letting them go.”

  Chris shook his head. “You have no right to hold us. Besides we saved your lives getting you out of the mess with the Lotus. One of my crewmen died helping you!”

  “I'll give you one last opportunity,” Mercer-Sten said holding up his index finger. “I don't want to throw you all in my brig, but you are testing my patience.”

  “Maybe we should just-” Claire began.

  Chris held up a hand, offering only silence. Claire glared at him for the offhand dismissal.

  “Very well,” Mercer-Sten looked over the assembled crew. “Who are you?”He asked Claire, giving her a sympathetic look.

  “I'm Claire of Goteborg,” she said with great caution.

  “Really? Related to the captain are you?”

  “He's my brother.”

  Sir Aaron smiled. “That will be all,” he said before leaving them to confer with Reyna.

  Nick murmured quietly, “Drayton won't help us.”

  “He has to. They can't hold us and they know it,” Chris whispered back.

  “That's Sir Aaron Mercer-Sten. He has the authority to do as he pleases,” Nick shot back. “I don't know if we can wiggle out of this one.”

  “Come on, Nick, have some faith.”

  Mercer-Sten and Reyna returned. “Move them to my flagship for interrogation,” he said to his guards. “We'll start with the twins.”

  The armed guards grabbed Chris under his armpits and kept his arms locked behind him. It strained his muscles and ignited a fury. He pushed back, allowing the guards to guide him, but with resistance. They shoved him off the bridge and down the corridors to the waiting shuttle. A temporary Commonwealth crew was already waiting there. The spacer men and women watched Chris and his crew as they were marched into the shuttle. As his foot left the deck Chris wondered if he would ever see his ship again.

  Sir Magnus Teton-Sten

  Knight Scion of House Teton, The Iron-Handed

  3 March, 23,423

  Sten Palace, Magdeborg, Magdeborg Commonwealth

  ______________

  The calls coming into the Sten Palace were urgent, which was military speak for 'someone panicked and did something incredibly stupid.' Magnus wasn't sure what exactly happened, but there were already crowds gathering in the city.

  He ordered an armored personnel carrier to take him there along with a squad of armored infantry. He'd have preferred to take his destrier, but the danger of crowds and large bipedal war machines typically tended not to mix well. The APC weaved through traffic, forcing its way through with sirens and blasts of its horn.

  The vehicle came to a stop in the main road where House Teton soldiers were keeping back crowds all straining to see what was happening. Magnus stepped into the street and felt a wash of energy roll over him. The people were curious, confused and a bit hostile. Some shouted epithets at the Toburn troopers manning the checkpoint. His troopers noticed as well and they tightened up their formation to protect House Teton's Knight Scion.

  On the sidewalk in front of a ten story apartment complex were five bodies under white sheets stained red. Four were grouped together and two of them appeared like very small lumps. A fifth was separated out. The sheet was not large enough to cover the entire body and two military boots stuck out from the bottom. Stained body sheets told a story.

  “Couldn't we bring black sheets for Amrah's sake? Do you know how this will play out in the media?” Magnus asked the sergeant in charge.

  “Sorry, my lord. This is all we had on hand. We had to take them from a local shop,” the sergeant explained.

  “I hope you compensated the shop owner?”

  The sergeant cleared his throat. “Not yet, my lord.”

  “You will do so now or I will see to it that the shop owner gets your salary for the remainder of his life.”

  The sergeant paled. “Yes, my lord. Right away.”

  As the sergeant bustled off, a Teton knight approached. The woman was at least as tall as Magnus and had obviously spent her entire life in the military.

  “Dame Adelaid Toburn, Knight-Captain, my lord. This is my section,” she said with a curt nod.

  “What happened here?”

  “Some sort of disturbance at the checkpoint. Boots here,” she tapped the boots of the lone body, “Tried to get through without clearance. We had to stop him.”

  “And the other four?”

  She hesitated. “Collateral damage. One of my troopers opened fire. They got caught.”

  Magnus rubbed at his forehead. “This is not good. This is the sort of thing that will damn us before we even get settled here. Dead civilians, collateral damage, whatever you want to call it.”

  The knight seemed uncomfortable but offered no apology.

  Magnus brushed past her and examined the lone body. He pulled back the sheet from the head and frowned. This definitely will not sit well.

  The short cropped brown hair and hazel eyes were hallmarks of the Sørensens. They may be our enemy, but gunning them down in the street will not sit well with the people. Cass is right. Image matters.

  “Horus Sørensen,” the knight said. “Thaddeus' son.”

  “Of course,” Magnus said with a shake of his head. “We need to do something about the others. Compensate their families. Which of your troopers shot them?”

  The knight balked, unwilling to pin blame on any of her troopers. A good soldier. If she were smart, she'd take the responsibility herself.

  Then a slender finger pointed at a sandy haired boy who sat on the curb, cradling a weapon and studying the paved road. He was rolling his back and forth boot over a few pebbles.

  Magnus walked over to him. He was going to regret this, but he had little choice in the matter. He needed to send a clear message of his own. No mistakes.

  He cleared his throat when the boy didn't look up.

  “My Lord!” The boy shouted and fell to his knees.

  Magnus waited patiently. “Your name?”

  “Alger, my lord.”

  “What happened here, Alger?”

  “Well, my lord. The soldier fellow was walking through the checkpoint. He had some papers, but they weren't checking out. We tried to arrest him, but he ran. I didn't know what else to do so I racked my weapon and fired at him. I got him, but I think I hit a few civilians,” he said glancing over at the bodies. “I think some of them might have been kids.”

  The boy's face dropped. He bit his lip. “I messe
d up.”

  Magnus remained passive. “Yes. I need to do something about this.”

  “I didn't mean to do it, my lord. If you want to kick me out of the section I understand.”

  Image is everything. “No, boy. I can't have jittery hands out here. Killing Commonwealth civilians is a crime punishable by death.”

  The boy's face slackened completely as his eyes bulged. “My Lord! I didn't mean to do it, they were just sort of in the way. He shouldn't have ran!”

  Magnus was reaching for his sidearm, determined now to do what had to be done, when an explosion rocked the checkpoint. The force of the blast shoved Magnus to the pavement and he grunted as his arms, real and prosthetic broke his fall. He could feel the heat of the blast on his flesh arm. The other was not at all affected.

  His ears rang, but not enough to drown out the screams. People ran, trampling each other to get away. Gunfire was rattling out from the checkpoint, but he couldn't figure out who they were shooting at. He stayed down a few seconds longer, checking himself for wounds and finding none. No more prosthetic limbs for me, please.

  Magnus climbed back to his knees, his weapon unholstered and flicking from movement to movement, hunting for a target. A few of the Toburn troopers were down. His own bodyguard was fanning, out searching the nearby buildings.

  Half a block away, two figured bolted from cover. They were shooting at the checkpoint desperately with automatic weapons. They were dressed in loose camouflage, a mix of forest and urban that did little to conceal their position. They fired hastily, barely taking the time to aim.

  One threw a grenade that landed not half a meter in front of Magnus. He stared at the explosive for a lifetime before reaching out with his prosthetic and swatting at it like it was nothing more than an annoying bug. His reinforced strength caused it to bounce down the street and roll to a stop in front of a storefront. It detonated, the sound amplified by the close buildings. A window shattered, but the building absorbed the blast. No one seemed to be hurt.

  The Toburn fighters returned fire, dropping one assailant. Magnus assumed a firing stance and engaged. He fired rapidly, but with discipline, dropping the second shooter. The firing stopped abruptly.

  After a minute the sergeant called the all clear. Medics immediately attended to the wounded. A half dozen Toburn warriors were down. Some weren't moving. Several civilians who had been observing the situation were also on the ground, unintended targets of the desperate shooting. More collateral damage.

  For Ithix's sake what was the purpose of that? Who are these idiots who attack civilians at checkpoints? What is this going to accomplish? He kicked at the curb in frustration.

  Magnus holstered his weapon then went looking for Alger. He found him a short distance away, on the ground with a growing pool of blood leaking out onto the street. He crouched down and sighed, giving the body a shove. There was no movement.

  He didn't really want to shoot the boy. He was just a kid himself, probably conscripted and poorly trained. He wasn't supposed to be here.

  “Dame Adelaid!” He shouted, getting to his feet. His ears still buzzed and he shouted again in case the knight didn't hear him.

  She hurried over, blood splattered on her face and armor.

  “My Lord?”

  “I want your section and all other Toburn sections pulled from checkpoint duty to be retrained by my own troops. I don't want any more incidents like this one. No more dead civilians. Is that clear?”

  “My Lord, the checkpoints are a difficult duty,” she said immediately on the defensive. “We get attacked like that every day! My troopers are tired of getting shot at. Tired of seeing our people die at the hands of these murderers!”

  “Dame Adelaid, you will do as I command you or you will find yourself on the next ship back to Ørsted.”

  “My Lord-”

  “No more excuses. No more deaths out here. Every civilian you kill causes ten more to take up arms against us. We will not win with indiscriminate killings. Now clean up here and no more mistakes. Walk with Amrah.”

  The Toburn Knight-Captain finally silenced then she bowed stiffly and returned to her duties without returning the parting words.

  They are insolent and arrogant, Magnus thought as the Toburn unit hurriedly sent the wounded and dead off site. More Toburn fighters were arriving by vehicle. Several squads fanned out to secure the area and hunt for any more assailants. The civilians had dispersed though a few peeked from behind buildings and cars.

  Magnus' bodyguard formed up around him. “Load up the Sørensen body in the APC. We take him back with us for burial in the crypts.”

  When the vehicle was loaded properly, Magnus took a last look around the checkpoint. This was just one checkpoint. These attacks have been occurring at all of them. Some attacks are uncoordinated, others, like this one, are random and disorganized.

  Finally, he sat in the front with the guard's sergeant.

  “I think they were gunning for you, my lord,” she said.

  “For me?”

  “I think it was a ruse to get you into the open. I've seen the rebels on Manderheim do it.”

  “You were on Manderheim?”

  Magnus remembered the uprising a few years back when the noble ruling house, Regnald, died out and a brief succession war broke out among the former vassals. The issue was settled quickly by the local Azuren Legate in a violent fashion, but some minor skirmishing between vassal houses continued. Bombings and shootings became commonplace. The Azuren were still trying to control the situation to this day.

  “As part of the peacekeeping force from Danvers. The rebels would plant a bomb at a location and detonate it. Security and first responders get to the scene for clean up and casualty collection then they'd detonate the second bomb,” she explained.

  “A double bombing.”

  “I think they expected you to respond to the situation personally. It was an assassination attempt.”

  “A poor one at that!” Magnus scoffed. “If this is the best the Sørensens can muster we should have this little insurgency cleared up in no time.”

  The sergeant hesitated, clearly disagreeing. “Yes, my lord.” she said anyway.

  Magnus paused for a moment. “Don't tell my mother anyway. It would not do to have the Archduchess fret about things that are unimportant.”

  The sergeant smiled with her mouth. She'd keep it silent because Magnus asked her to. Hopefully some bravado will also keep the issue at bay. If it was a targeted attack, there may be more like it. But for Horus Sørensen to give his life for those amateurs was foolish. Much of what the Sørensens have done is foolish.

  The APC got rolling and they found a quick trip back to the Sten Palace as the streets had mostly emptied to allow more Toburn military equipment through to the site. There would likely be more attacks on the checkpoints in the coming days, more Sørensen bombings, more shootings in an attempt to lure Magnus out again. He was a high value target. They missed this time, but they would try again.

  And they may just get lucky one day.

  Lord Damien Sten

  Duke of Hidelborg, Defender of the Border, The Gray Knight

  5 March, 23,423

  Magdeborg, Magdeborg Commonwealth

  ______________

  Damien tried to relax on the shuttle as it powered through Magdeborg's atmosphere. For the first time in eleven years, Damien was returning home. He watched through the shuttle's windows as the terrain rushed by below him. Bright blues arced overhead, while dense forests stretched out into the plains and farmlands. Large oceans of turquoise water roared over three-fourths of the planet's surface, and Damien lamented that he had never actually visited them. Magdeborg was teeming with life, resources and energy. It was the gem in the crown of the Commonwealth, one of the rare Class-A worlds that empires slaughtered each other wholesale to take.

  Most worlds were barely capable of supporting life, orbiting either too close or too far from their host stars. Only extensive terraforming
had allowed some of them to become suitable for human life. Damien's own fief of Hidelborg was a Class-C, upgraded from Class-D after a century of ecological tinkering.

  Unlike his siblings, Damien was born on Magdeborg, rather than Anarrk, the wintry ancestral home of House Sten. In that manner he couldn't claim to have been “Born in the White” a sort of privilege and title that most Sten royalty had accorded them due to the location of their birth. He grew up in the Sten palace and at an early age, was exposed to the intricacies and nuances of diplomacy and politics. Even as a child and young adult, his time was spent in the cities, making connections and attending high level political meetings. He was often found in the Conclave building, talking to the representatives of major houses. For some reason they felt comfortable talking to the child, unwilling or unable to accept that he was gathering intelligence. He was his father's spy, a role he very much enjoyed. He fell in love with the gritty, dirty wars of words, but his training as a politician stopped early. He had shown a propensity towards leadership and an acute ability to manage resources on a large scale so Haakon had ordered him to war college and he'd gone without complaint. The nobles, despite their wealth and power, were slaves to the system. Service was demanded of him so he gave it. There was no other alternative. His assignments saw him banished to the violent Commonwealth borders, far away from the political haranguing he'd actually enjoyed so much. Despite his semi-exile, he still applied what he'd learned in the Conclave to the practice of war with great success.

  As the shuttle raced over the open plains on the planet's largest continent, he considered the implications of his visit. He was attending his brother's funeral, which was sure to be a politically and emotionally awkward scene by itself would only be compounded by Salena's insistence on Damien delivering the eulogy. Delivering such a speech was a tradition that had been determined vain – what great king needed someone to point out their accomplishments? - and done away with centuries ago. Damien couldn't begin to guess why Salena had revived the tradition. On the trip, he'd actually had to conduct research on speeches for the dead and had tried to begin writing one, but found the activity awkward and pointless. He'd barely even seen his brother in the last forty years so what could he possibly say about him beyond his political and military triumphs? He'd read that eulogies were supposed to humanize the subject and reflect on touching personal moments. Damien blanched. Their few personal moments together were private affairs and always colored by politics. Sovereigns were not supposed to be humanized. They occupied the space between human and Azuren, owing their power to Amrah and their authority to the Azuren. Peter was as close to a living holy figure as any human could get. Eulogies were for lowborns. He was beginning to suspect Salena put hi up to it to embarrass him.