Protector of the Realm

by Gun Brooke

  "We have no data regarding their exact status, but I can tell you that the Liberty and Freedom are on a flight path back to SC space. That's the good news, sir." Todd looked ill at ease.

  "Yes?" Ewan prodded.

  "The Onotharians are gaining on them. Using a propulsion system similar to the tachyon-mass drive, they're hot on their trails, sir. The Liberty's flight pattern suggests it is damaged, and the Freedom is right next to her. Captain de Vies wouldn't abandon the commodore's vessel."

  Ewan ripped the protective cover off a cigar. "I know. So the Onotharians are gaining on them? When will they reach them?"

  "If they maintain course and speed"—Todd checked his computer—"in less than forty-eight hours, Admiral."

  "Damn," Ewan whispered. "And we don't know their tactical status?"

  "No, sir."

  He stood motionless for a moment and rapidly examined and discarded solutions one by one. Walking over to the porthole in the conference room, he regarded the ships moored at Port 1. His eye focused suddenly, and he rubbed his forehead, going over the details one more time. Is it possible? Ewan turned toward Todd and raised an eyebrow. "This is a long shot, but I have a solution. It's slightly unorthodox, and my daughter would have my head for bending the rules.. .but in love and war..."

  Todd looked curious. "Yes, sir. Just let me know and I'll be right on it."

  "Even if this plan jeopardizes your career? Some people in the Council might not look favorably on it." Ewan wanted to make certain Jeremiah understood the consequences.

  Todd didn't hesitate. "For the commodore? Even then."

  "My honor is at stake here!"

  Dahlia regarded the ambassador, unimpressed by his tendency toward dramatic exclamations. "Very possibly, but lives are also at stake, and I'm appalled by your lack of concern."

  The tall man paced back and forth on the opposite side of the conference table. Dressed in black, he seemed more agitated than during earlier sessions.

  Dahlia did not take her eyes off him. He had declined to have his aide de camp present, and she wondered if he now regretted his decision. If he knew that one of the lives at stake is my daughter's, he 'd be thrilled. Dahlia forced back the dread, the disgusting feeling of something wobbly in her stomach, that had been present since Ewan had informed her of the current situation. Part of her wanted to send some impossible telepathic message to Rae, to implore her to come back safely. How ridiculous. Even if there were such a thing as telepathy, it wouldn't exist between us. We can't communicate when we 're in the same room, let alone across light-years. She didn't know if it was something in her eyes that triggered the ambassador's explosion, but she was in no mood to humor him. I may lose my daughter because of you, you bastard. If that happens ...nothing can save you then.

  "I have the Onotharian law on my side," M'Ekar spat. "I have the unwavering trust of my president, and no matter how many sad stories you try to sell me—"

  "This tirade of yours isn't very constructive." Dahlia silenced his ranting with a gesture of her hand. "Let's focus on our mutual goal—a way of getting you out of SC space in one piece and possibly continuing the talks between our worlds."

  The man looked at her, apparently bewildered. "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "You have several options, Ambassador. The most preferable for both parties is that you relinquish any demands you have of guardianship of Armeo. Only then will you be escorted to our borders and returned to your own people."

  Slamming his fist against the conference table, M'Ekar gave an impatient roar. "Damn, woman, you don't understand. What you suggest is out of the question!"

  The guards moved swiftly, jerking the ambassador back from the table. "Not so close, Ambassador," the senior security officer reminded the dignitary.

  "What don't I understand? You've been tiptoeing around the issue, stubbornly refusing to negotiate despite whatever opening I've presented you." Dahlia leaned back in the chair and watched the man thoughtfully. She couldn't put her finger on something. M'Ekar behaved more erratically than a seasoned diplomat should. Tilting her head, Dahlia laced her fingers together as she asked her next question. "You never did explain why you waited so long to move on Armeo. Nor did you account for the so-called accident that killed his mother."

  M'Ekar kicked the chair next to him away from the table and sat down, glaring at her. "I had to wait until it was safe to take the child. I didn't want a baby on my hands. The child was being monitored..."

  "So you knew from the start he was an M'Aido.. .and an O'Saral. Did you have his mother killed?"

  His eyes glimmering with a dangerous, yet haunted, expression, M'Ekar laughed joylessly. "Adroit, Madame Jacelon. You tricked me."

  "Does that mean you gave orders to have Tereya O'Saral killed?" Dahlia fought to stay calm.

  "I did nothing of the kind. Do you think a man in my position would stoop to such a thing?"

  "Yes, I do, actually. In my experience men—and women—in your position do things like that, and worse. Perhaps you didn't give the direct order. I don't suppose we'll ever know. However, I'm certain you made it very clear to your subordinates what you expected of them— verbally or not." She motioned for her assistant to lean closer. "Maya, do you have the document ready yet?"

  "Yes, ma'am. Here." The assistant pushed a handheld computer over to Dahlia.

  She glanced down at the screen and then up at the ambassador. "Seems we have a standstill in the negotiations," she mused. "You're not giving us anything that we're asking for—which means you're going to the brig on the Kester."

  "I demand to return to my quarters, like before." M'Ekar raised his voice. To Dahlia's surprise, his hands began to tremble as he smoothed his long hair over his shoulders.

  "That will be impossible. We'll save manpower if we put you and your closest cohorts in crime behind bars."

  "Madame!" The ambassador rose again, sending the chair clattering to the floor behind him. "This threat is beneath you as an SC negotiator. At my level—"

  "At your level, Ambassador, you should be humane enough to not murder innocent young women and persecute children. Nor should you treat an entire planet full of people as if they are only pawns or playthings to suit your own agenda." Dahlia knew she was thundering, but she was fed up with this callous man. "You have a chance to save your own neck, M'Ekar—why not take it? It's the best offer you're going to get."

  M'Ekar stared at her with the force of malice glimmering in his eyes. Then he seemed to shrink in size as his shoulders slumped, and he leaned against the backrest of the chair next to the one lying on the floor. "Damn it, Madame, you don't understand."

  "Then for God's sake, tell me."

  Remaining on his feet, M'Ekar sent her a resigned look. "I'm not the one operating the strings here—and neither are you. The child's future does not rest in my hands or in yours. Our respective rulers are determined to fight this to the bitter end. Armeo M'Aido has become the symbol of this fight, and you and I know he will never be free. Considering his heritage, he will always be subjected to threats and manipulation. It's not about him. It's what he can bring the one who controls him."

  Cold shivers ran down Dahlia's spine at the finality in the man's tone. M'Ekar's theatrical mannerisms had vanished; instead his voice held a tired, knowing quality as he calmly raised the fallen chair and sat down again. She believed him.

  "Madame Jacelon, your daughter acted in haste when she married the O'Dal woman. Manipulating the SC court to appoint the two of them as guardians for the boy may seem the humane thing to do, but in the long run..." He wiped beads of perspiration from his forehead. "In the long run, it could be the death of millions."

  "How long before they reach us, Ensign?" Owena looked up from the captain's chair. Having assumed command of the Liberty, she had hardly slept during the last thirty-six hours. She had tried to lie down on the narrow bed in the small quarters she shared with Leanne, only to find fragmented images of the stealth attack appear in her mind
's eye. A fatal high-energy weapon beam—Ensign S'hos tumbling to the ground. M'Aldovar dragging the wounded commodore across the dusty yard in front of the burned buildings, laughing callously while he kicked her. M’Aldovar pressing a weapon to Leanne's head. An Onotharian pulse beam striking her arm.

  It had taken Leanne more than three months to wear down Owena's defenses. After they'd met, and she finally allowed the pilot to get close, Owena's life had changed forever. She now found herself vulnerable. She wasn't always comfortable with this state, but she couldn't turn back. Even at moments like these, when they were both involved in a high-risk mission, she didn't regret loving Leanne with her heart and soul.

  Leanne had seen right through her. Instead of the intimidating tactical chief who scared her junior subordinates with her mere presence, Leanne regarded her as someone in need of love, in need of her. Owena was stunned. She had always fended for herself, ever since her childhood and adolescent years on Tobrin, a Measter-class desert planet where mining companies offered good credits to those who'd risk their lives in the mines.

  Leanne, in turn, had been born into and later ostracized from a family consisting of only women who frowned upon her chosen profession, thinking it was beneath someone stemming from nobility. Their rejection had broken Leanne's heart, but she had still followed it, left Corma, and never returned.

  Owena looked toward the helm console and saw her lover bent over the controls, probably double-checking the data. Her arm was wrapped in bandages, and she wore a large patch on her forehead. Ensign Hammad was busy with the commodore, but Lieutenant Ng'Ar had made his rounds, checking the crew over. Fortunately, there was only one fatality and no one had sustained any serious injuries. Owena shuddered. No one except the commodore.

  Leanne had managed to convince Kellen to occasionally leave the mess hall where her wife still lay unconscious. Only when they explained they needed her help to plot a course home did she agree to leave her side. Owena sat with Rae when Kellen was on the bridge, and when she returned, her eyes thundercloud blue and her expression pained, Owena had asked what was wrong.

  "I'm fine." Kellen repeated her standard phrase. She brushed past Owena only to stop and quickly turn around, her face suddenly contorted, as if she was about to cry and fought not to. "I stepped on to the bridge, and I...I expected S'hos to be there. I had forgotten..." Her voice sank to a whisper. "I had forgotten."

  Owena could guess how Kellen felt and wanted to place a hand on the other woman's muscular shoulder, to offer some comfort, but Kellen looked as if the slightest touch would make her explode. "I know. It's hard...Ensign S'hos was very young."

  It was as if Kellen hadn't heard her. "He...he tended to my wounds. S'hos showed me nothing but kindness...and I had forgotten he died. Because of me."

  Owena flinched. "What? No, no.. .S'hos is dead because he carried out his duty as an officer in the SC forces, knowing it was dangerous."

  "This is hardly normal, everyday SC business," Kellen retorted hotly. "Going into hostile territory with hardly any backup, in pirate vessels...You can't convince me that a young man such as S'hos had any idea what he was getting himself into."

  "Oh, but I can." Owena deliberately inserted a gentle forcefulness into her voice. "The commodore briefed everybody carefully before she assigned the duty stations. Had she detected any uncertainty in anyone coming on this mission, she would've chosen someone else. S'hos was young, but trust me, he knew the risks."

  Kellen's eyes drifted to the motionless body on the table. They had brought a mattress from one of the quarters to make Rae as comfortable as possible. Several intravenous infusions were hanging from makeshift ropes from the ceiling.

  "She hasn't shown any signs of waking up, has she?" Owena asked.

  "No. Her vitals are promising, but she's still comatose." Kellen walked over to the table and sat down on the chair she had used since they left Gantharat. "I need to be here when she wakes up."

  "Of course. I want you to calculate the course adjustments in another six hours. Leanne will relieve you then, just for a minute."

  "Very well."

  "They'll intercept in four hours, ma'am." The ensign at ops now interrupted her thoughts. "I think it's time to engage the evasive flight pattern Ms. O'Dal plotted earlier."

  "Let's wait a little longer, Ensign. That way, they'll have much less time to recalculate their course." Owena rose from the chair. "D'Artansis, remain on this course, maximum tachyon drive."

  "Aye, ma'am." Leanne's hands moved across the console. "Something's draining power off our port nacelle. I can only maintain a ninety-seventh degree of the drive."

  "That way they'll gain on us." Owena grabbed the communicator from her shoulder. "Bridge to engineering. We have power drainage of the port nacelle."

  "We're on it, ma'am. Two ensigns are down in the port crawl space going through the circuits that burned on the voyage out. The problem is escalating."

  Wanting to drive her fist through something, Owena held her breath for a moment. "Good. I want frequent reports, Lieutenant. Every twenty minutes."

  Four hours. Owena Grey closed her eyes briefly. Tactically, she was the best person to handle this situation. Still, she wanted nothing more than to have Rae Jacelon, with her experience and sixth sense, on the bridge right now.

  "Ensign." She redirected her attention toward the ops station. "You're right. Time to punch in those coordinates and see if we can't buy us some more time."

  Looking relieved, the young woman exploded into action. "Aye, ma'am."

  They had more than seventy hours to go before they reached Gamma VI, sixty to reach the SC border. A few extra hours perhaps wouldn't amount to much, but they had to try.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  "De Vies to O'Dal." Captain de Vies's voice startled Kellen when it came through her communicator, muddled by static. "The Onotharians are only a few parsecs away. Report to the bridge and readjust our course. Sensors detect an asteroid belt two light-years ahead."

  Kellen let her hand caress Rae's bruised arm. She showed no sign of waking up from the coma. Pulling the communicator toward her, Kellen replied. "Yes, sir. I'm on my way. O'Dal out."

  Pressing past several maintenance and engineering crew members in the narrow corridors, Kellen made her way to the Liberty's bridge. Owena Grey nodded to her as she approached the ops station. A young female ensign stepped aside, allowing Kellen to begin recalculating their flight path. Having traveled this part of space before, she remembered the asteroid belt well. It was violent, rotating around an axis in a serpentine way. She knew of several ships that had been instantly destroyed inside it.

  Pushing away fatigue, Kellen punched in new commands, using the computer with the pirates' immaculate mapping of the sector to plot a new, bold course. Hesitating, knowing it would amount to a bumpy ride, she quickly went over the numbers again to make sure they were error free. "Lieutenant Grey, I have the new flight path. It will take us through an asteroid belt, and it will be dangerous."

  "I'm sure it will." Owena straightened her back. "Lieutenant D'Artansis. Enter the flight path into the helm computer. Ensign Ymer, transmit the data, encrypted, to the Freedom."

  "Aye, ma'am," the young ensign next to Kellen acknowledged and retook her position at the ops console. After a few minutes, she looked up. "Freedom confirms receiving the data."

  "Good." Owena cleared her throat. "Liberty to the Freedom. Are you ready to engage?"

  "Ready when you are, Lieutenant. You're aware this course will be a fraction away from disaster?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Let's be on our way, then. Adjust course. De Vies out."

  With a slight hum beneath the deck, the Liberty changed course and began to follow the complex trajectory toward the asteroid belt.

  Kellen held her breath, awaiting Owena's dismissal. She wanted nothing but to return to the mess hall. When Owena finally turned her head and nodded, Kellen crossed the bridge in long strides and disappeared down the narrow la
dder.

  The blue-green light in the corridors made everyone look nauseous and tired. Kellen knew the crew was exhausted from constantly repairing the damages the ship had sustained on the journey toward Gantharat. Farther up the corridor, Kellen saw Lieutenant Ng'Ar stacking black casings in a small storage room. Realizing he was handling some of the casings she and Rae had filled with hard-copy evidence, she stepped closer.

  "Surely this can't be all of them, Lieutenant?"

  "No, it isn't, ma'am. Half of the evidence is aboard the Freedom. If one of the ships is destroyed before we reach Gamma VI, we won't lose everything."

  Kellen nodded and was about to move past the big pile of casings when she saw a familiar object. She had forgotten about the ancient book, her family's records as Protectors of the Realm. Removing it from the pile, she glanced at Ng'Ar, who looked curiously at her. "This is my private property. You can clear it with the commodore later."

  Compassion flickered across the man's features. "Of course, ma'am."

  Resuming her walk toward the mess hall, Kellen hugged the book to her chest. This was her past, her heritage. In the mess hall lay her future. The book's soft leather cover held a familiar scent—dry, dusty, and a little stale—and its corners dug almost painfully into her flesh through the loose coverall. She ran her fingertips over the indentation in the wide spine, sighing in relief when she found the royal seal intact. In the mess hall, nothing had changed. Ensign Hammad was checking the monitors and watching carefully for any changes in the commodore's condition.

  Kellen sat down on the chair next to the table. "I'm back, Rae," she whispered. "I have something I want to read to you."

  Dahlia walked into the commodore's quarters and placed her briefcase on the floor next to the clothes rack. Closing the door behind her, she noticed the dimmed lights from the living room. A quick glance at the chronometer on her left wrist told her it was past 2300 hours.

  She strode toward the living room, her thoughts turning back to her last session with Ambassador M'Ekar. The sight that met her when she stepped into the room instantly jolted her back to the present.