“That was Sir Ian Evers,” one of the sergeants said. “Heir to Goteborg.”
Claire held her head in her hands. “I know,” she whispered.
Sir Aaron Mercer-Sten
Knight Scion of House Mercer
16 March, 23,423
Verland, Goteborg, Magdeborg Commonwealth
______________
Disasters came on very quickly and Aaron wondered if he was watching one unfold now. The command center was nearly empty, just a few assistants puttered around in the background, updating charts and performing basic repairs. Most of the nobles were in the field with their sections. Kristoffer was in his bunk which left Aaron largely alone with his thoughts and battle plans. Never had he planned an operation as large as the defense of Goteborg and the stress of it was beginning to wear him down.
Over the past week, Commonwealth and Dominion forces had pecked away at each other. A few sections had been engaged in skirmishes here and there and the Evers were biting at the bit to get into the fight. Yesterday a force under House Adelheim launched an uncoordinated attack against the Dominion flank. Earl Erik Adelheim did not inform Aaron of his attack so he was just as surprised as the Dominion when four Adelheim sections broke into the lines of House Farald, partially collapsing it. Unfortunately, Pershing had been quick to send reinforcements and by the time Aaron learned of the attack there was nothing he could do to control it. Even though they killed three Dominion nobles and almost knocked House Farald out of the fight, Adelheim was nearly annihilated. The army cheered Erik Adelheim, who had miraculously survived, but no one was dumb enough to think the sacrifice gained them anything. It was worse than a military loss. It was a blow to Aaron's ego. Erik Adelheim disobeyed his orders and only proved Lady Evers correct. He couldn't control his army.
Now he watched one of the satellite monitors. Red squares, circles, and triangles moved slowly across one of the grid boxes into another. It was nearly three full companies, Aaron knew, a mixture of Houses Bish, Madet and a few sections from the Caeph Royal Hussars. Lord Morlan was launching a major flanking attack. It was late, much past midnight and Commonwealth recon elements were watching Pershing's troops make their way slowly towards the line of resistance. He was hoping Aaron would commit troops to stop the advance.
Of course, doing so would weaken the center of the Commonwealth line so that Pershing's own units could overrun them. House Evers had already suffered losses on the left flank along with the other houses. A SAR helicopter had located the remains of Sir Ian Evers' destrier and raced the young noble back, still alive. He died on the operating table apparently under the hands of Claire. This sent Lady Diana Evers into a rage, demanding the deaths of the two Jericho brothers who'd killed her son and nearly launching her own counter attack alone and unsupported. Had Aaron not stopped her, she would have led the remnants of her house into the waiting jaws of the fresh Dominion Second Caeph Guards' six sections.
Aaron shook his head at the display and called up his available forces. A list of sections, strengths and people appeared and he carefully selected those whom he would send. He had no choice, he would have to weaken the center to make sure Pershing did not get around the flank. It was an impossible choice; damned if he did and damned if he didn't.
“Trouble ahead, huh?” Reyna said, appearing at his side.
“Three companies, at least twenty sections if not more. We're going to struggle to keep them away from the flank. The Evers militia is going to try to slow them down while we maneuver forces, but they're going to lose a lot of their strength.”
Aaron paused.
“And?”
“One of them is marked as Pershing's command section. He is personally leading the maneuver,” Aaron said with more calmness than he felt.
Reyna slunk around into view and took a seat next to him. She kicked her feet up onto the bank of monitors and closed her eyes. “So who gets to defend the flank?”
Aaron glanced at his force lists, trying to see around the boot that blocked his view. “Well there's the troops under Houses Canton and Odronik.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“There's another house that hasn't been in combat, yet.”
Aaron narrowed his brow in confusion. “You mean House Evers?”
Reyna rolled her eyes. “No, try again.”
Aaron sighed and leaned back in the chair. “Reyna, please, I don't have time for these games again.”
“You have your own house sections at your command as well, Aaron. Have you forgotten?”
Aaron blinked. Of course there were the three Mercer sections. He did not own them in the feudal sense, but his family had loaned them under the command of knights to Lord Damien and his border army as a show of solidarity. Aaron had accompanied them, but he'd hesitated to deploy them. They were the last remnants of his house.
“They're not broken, yet, our own house. They were hurt badly in the loss of Haberton, but they're itching for revenge. I'm itching for revenge, Aaron,” she said poking her chest with her thumb. “What else would stop the attack cold than two angry sections of Mercers led by the commanding knight himself? Why haven't you deployed us in combat, yet? If that is Pershing himself, who better than to kill him in combat than you?”
Aaron looked away. Because I'm damn afraid of losing more Mercers to the Dominion, he answered silently.
“Because we've needed to keep a healthy reserve in case they break through,” he lied. Badly.
Reyna raised her eyebrows. Oh please, he knew she was thinking.
“If that's going to be your defense then consider the very real possibility that Pershing will break through that flank and take this entire army from the rear. We already traded Ian Evers and his sections to knock House Jerricho out of the fight. If we can knock out Bish and Madet in this next exchange we might be able to at least level the playing field.”
Aaron nodded. “That would lave them with Houses Dreyfus, Nowitski, Moriarti as well as the Second Guards and Royal Hussars. It doesn't really tip the odds in our favor, but it certainly helps things.”
“While we still leave House Evers largely intact along with the other minor houses that have donated troops,” Reyna said. “That's at least a fair fight. We may even convince Pershing to back off the planet or stall the invasion long enough to rally more border troops.”
“And then who would command the defense here if Pershing decides to use the flanking attack as a feint for a larger frontal assault? Kristoffer?”
Reyna snorted, apparently ignoring his attempt at sarcasm. “Your new charge might think he is a fast learner, but this is not to be his trial by fire. Right now he's barely fit to guard the latrines with a pea shooter.”
Aaron smirked, for just a moment imagining the young Archduke in full regalia, valiantly defending the toilets from the onslaught of Dominion forces. “I suppose Lady Evers would be perfectly capable.”
“She ought to be,” Reyna said leaning in until she was practically in his lap. Aaron felt himself becoming suddenly aroused. His heart rate jumped and his mind focused on things that were strenuous, but not of a military nature. “Deploy us, Aaron. The other Mercer warriors want to fight, have been begging to fight. After what Pershing did to us on Haberton, they want to balance the scales in deaths a bit. I want to kill them, because I'm sick that they can rampage across the border unchecked.”
Aaron weighed the option. She smelled sweet, he realized. Intoxicating. His head swam.
“Do it for me?” She asked so quietly he strained to hear her.
Aaron chewed his bottom lip, trying to think over the plan and its potential consequences. If they managed to halt Pershing's flanking maneuver and if they managed to cause enough damage to Houses Bish and Madet, they might be able to convince him to retreat off planet, marking a major victory for the Commonwealth. It'd raise morale for the survivors and might be enough to convince more Houses to donate troops. That's a lot of “ifs.”
“Alright, let'
s saddle up those sections and get this rolling,” he said determinately. “Have Lady Evers take control of the center while we block Pershing's flanking maneuver. I want Pershing left to me. Personally.”
Reyna smiled and nodded, pleased to get her way. She left the command center to get the attack organized.
But this is dangerous. Stripping the center to reinforce the fight will leave them vulnerable. But maybe she's right. Maybe we can stop Pershing here. Maybe when Damien returns, he'll find his enemy broken, beaten and suing for peace. That would be comforting.
Aaron leaned back, forcing himself to relax. If the Dominion was broken here, it would leave Haberton, his home, vulnerable. He had missed the fight, felt shamed that his family had died in his stead while he was among Damien's army. While they died, he was safe and being intimate with Reyna. He justified his situation by refusing to throw the last of House Mercer into the fight and seeing them die, too. No more. They were not museum pieces, they were warriors as was he.
Crushing or killing Pershing would bring justice for House Mercer, removing them from Haberton would be the final nail in the coffin. Aaron began to feel a bit giddy as he thought about leading the remnants of the Mercer armies against the Dominion, taking territory and establishing himself as a Commonwealth lord. But he shoved those thoughts away. He had a job to do here before deluding himself with such conquests.
“Sir Aaron,” the voice echoed in the empty room.
Aaron sighed and turned the chair to see Kristoffer standing in the doorway. “What is it?” Aaron asked as calmly as his tired state would allow.
“I wanted to ask you something,” he said, walking into the room. He was wearing a standard uniform with the markings of House Evers. The house's insignia, a flying eagle grasping a struggling snake in its claws stood out on his chest. On the tips of its flapping wings were written the names of the great battles in which the house had fought. Soon Goteborg would be added to another feather.
“Well, what is it?” Aaron demanded.
“I want to fight. If that means transferring me to the militia, I'll do it. I won't let my friend go into battle without me again. It's not fair. I'm the reason he's here-”
“No.”
Chris' brow narrowed. “That's it then? You won't even hear me out? You've taken me here, threatened me with-”
Aaron lunged, striking Chris with a closed fist and sending him reeling. Chris stumbled then collapsed to his knees. Aaron's mind had already gone red and he stalked towards his prey. He grabbed Chris by the collar and threw him against the wall.
“Listen to me you Ithix damned little bastard. If you ever question me again I will shoot you on the spot. No, you may not go and fight in the militia. You may not die on the battlefield with honor,” Aaron snarled, keeping his fingers tight on Chris' throat.
Chris struggled and Aaron suddenly saw himself as the eagle clutching the snake in its talons.
“Why?” Chris wheezed. “Why did you bring me here? What do you want from me?”
“I know what you did,” Aaron said flatly. “I know about Pershing and your secret mission.”
Realization sunk into the young Archduke's face. It slackened and fear ebbed into his eyes.
“You let loose the most dangerous man in the entire human core. He raped and murdered my house, took my homeworld and killed millions. And you let him free!”
Chris stuttered and gurgled like an infant. He scratched at Aaron's tightening grasp making his hands bleed.
Feeble.
“I'll tell you then. I don't want you to go die in the militias because I want you to watch Pershing destroy your homeworld. I want you to see the ruined cities and the broken bodies. I want you see what he will do here as he did everywhere else. I want you to share in my suffering. Then I want you to watch as I kill Morlan Pershing on the battlefield while you sit pitifully on the sidelines. You have no power, no importance, nothing. You are no body.”
Aaron released him and Chris dropped to the ground, desperately sucking and gasping in air. He coughed loudly and crawled away from Aaron.
“Get to the barracks and get my sections ready for battle.”
Chris scrambled away from Aaron and ran from the command center.
Pitiful.
Anna
15 March, 23,423
J's Bar, Magdeborg, Magdeborg Commonwealth
______________
Anna ripped off the black hood that covered Dmitri Filipov's head. His face was bloody and bruised, but his scowl hadn't lessened any either. Anna tossed the hood on a round table nearby and speared Salena's spy with a death glare.
“What are we going to do with you?” She said condescendingly. She pulled up a chair and sat on it backwards, crossing her arms over the headrest. It was a comfortable and familiar pose. This was not her first interrogation.
Filipov's face was already beginning to bruise, a result of the beating he'd gotten after they kicked in the door to her apartment. They surprised Daniela in the kitchen, but she managed a warning shout to Anna. She pulled a gun she kept hidden for just such occasions and killed the Dominion agent who burst down the hall. His companion, being neither intelligent nor careful went to investigate the gun shots and ended up dead as well.
Filipov immediately called for reinforcements, but Daniela had managed to gather the sense of mind to hit Filipov over the hit with a frying pan while he was distracted. Before he had recovered, Anna pounced him and beat him to within an inch of his life.
It was all a blur now. She dimly remembered gagging and binding Filipov then Daniela helping drag him to her car. She distinctly remembered telling Daniela to run for it, they weren't after her, then grabbed Rebecca and made a hasty phone call. But Damien wasn't responding. She realized, somehow, Filipov had been jamming the signal. Desperate, and driving in a panic, she came here.
Here happened to be a bar in downtown Magdeborg. It was old by today's standards, utilizing actual wood for furniture and bare bulbs in lamps. The entire first floor was the bar itself with round tables dotting the entire space surrounding the large wrap around bar in the center. Dozens of colorful alcohol bottles lined the shelves. Only a few patrons were present when she dragged Filipov's unconscious form into the bar followed by a ten-year-old girl. It the terms of mid-morning bar patrons, it was one of the less odd things to happen. The back of the first floor was divided up into private meeting rooms, one of which she had dragged Filipov in and secured him.
Filipov flicked his gaze to the man standing by the door. Anna knew him as John which probably was not his real name anyway. He was a former intelligence operative for House Mason who had become disillusioned with their obsession with wealth and power and looked for work elsewhere. He established this bar, J's, and played poker here with the well established locals. They knew him as Legend Killer for his propensity for knocking out other poker legends, though he preferred being called “LK”, and he was a Starfield Theorist, part of her old network. On Magdeborg, their cell was called the Weathermen.
He never spoke about his former work with any of the locals. To her, he only mentioned a posting he had during his service at a pulsar station deep in House Mason's territory. A super massive star had gone supernova a few hundred million years ago and left behind its rapidly spinning corpse, the pulsar. Planets had reformed around the dead star over millions of years and they were rich in heavy elements. The Masons allowed the Harding Corporation to establish mining outposts and LK served as the liaison between the two sides while also participating in weapons research. If the Masons found out he was still alive they'd come after him for sure. Not to mention the Azuren. A Starfield Theorist with that level of knowledge and a special hatred for both the Masons and the Azuren was dangerous indeed.
LK ignored Filipov's glare and crossed his arms over his chest. He still had the physique of a soldier and the mental sharpness of a trained killer. When he needed to be removed from Mason territory, the Theorist commanders ordered him to Magdeborg. They wouldn
't disclose what he had to require such a change and they made it clear Anna was not to know. She recruited him as a Weatherman, keeping an eye on the actions of House Sten and the other noble houses of the Conclave. She had kept him hidden and safe all those years ago, but now he was to grant her the same courtesy.
LK stood over almost two meters with rippling muscles and a permanent five-o'clock shadow. He took to wearing dark clothing, almost like what a spacer might adorn, but without the glowing tattoos. His face was etched like stone, hard and unnerving. At first, she thought his eyes were cruel and cold, but she was quick to realize they were vaults and could only imagine at the secrets locked behind them. He walked with engaging swiftness and purpose, his movements calculated and brief. He wasted no energy on extraneous movement.
“You're making a mistake. When the Archduchess finds out what happened, she'll hang you,” Filipov spat blood. His voice sounded like gravel in a blender. “She knows where I was and when I don't check in, they'll come looking.”
Anna smiled coyly. “It's been a week. Archduchess Salena doesn't care about you. Merely associating with you is too dangerous for her. The more you help us the easier your life will become.”
“I'm not answering anything, bitch,” he snarled and struggled against the trap-bindings that connected loosely between his wrists and heels. Struggling only made the polymer binds tighter. The metal sensed heat caused from the friction of struggle and tightened accordingly. It was an awesome piece of equipment LK had, probably an invention of the Hardings that found its way into the Mason arsenal and then into his.
“You're going to do it, Filipov. You don't have a choice in this matter. At least not any that you'll find agreeable except cooperation,” Anna said coldly.
“I'm trained to resist interrogation and torture. You're wasting your time.”
“I wouldn't be so sure you're safe from his interrogation,” Anna said, jerking her head in LK's direction.
Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1) Page 35
