The Glory of the Empress

by Sean Danker

  “Agreed,” Commander Mao said, nodding. “But it’ll be tricky. Dangerous. We’ll be playing with the refugees’ lives.”

  “We have to,” Major Compton told her, leaning forward. “If we just vanish, Tenbrook will take his people and walk, and we’ll have failed. If that battle station and that fleet stop chasing us and start getting used for something with actual strategic value, that’ll cost us more than a few unlucky galactics.”

  “Yes,” Mao said, tenting her fingers. “And Tenbrook’s making a conscious decision to be here, so Commonwealth leadership thinks we have more value than the usual targets. We have to make the most of that.”

  “We’re the priority to him, not the refugees,” Bjorn pointed out. “Doyle’s just a bounty. Maybe our chances of survival go up all around if we don’t try to protect them directly, but find a way to run interference.”

  Mao shook her head. “We would if we could, but Tenbrook’s got too many people. And Cophony knows we’re the only imperials in uniform out here. He’s going to have people waiting for Doyle. The only way the refugees make it out of here is with us. Tenbrook’s pirates aren’t the greatest fighters, but we have to assume that at the very least they’re decent pirates. Doyle won’t last five minutes on his own. He may have already been taken while we were decoding his message.”

  She was right. Bjorn nodded and sat back, thinking.

  “Ma’am?” Mao asked the general.

  Frowning, Dayal crossed her legs and clasped her hands in her lap. “There is a question we have not asked,” she said after a moment.

  “Yes?” Mao gazed at her intently.

  “How does our value with regards to the war stand against the value of the refugees? This is an unsightly truth, but one we’d be remiss to overlook. Had both refugee ships been destroyed, our mission would return to its potentially perilous but largely manageable status of harassing Tenbrook. That is a mission that we can complete successfully and survive. I ask you to remember that this isn’t just about our lives; it’s about the Everwing system. The data from our mission will be instrumental in the next generation of Everwing craft, and those may be the craft that win the war.”

  “You’re saying that there are fifty thousand people aboard Doyle’s ship,” Mao said, “but that’s a small number if the war goes on. That it might be worth those lives for us to stay a part of the war effort longer. Furthermore, if we die—regardless of the circumstances—that makes the Everwing system look bad, which could set back the project. Setting back the project keeps Everwings away from the front longer, and hurts the war effort.”

  “Merely raising the question, Commander.”

  “You’re certainly not wrong. These refugees have no value. The PR implications of this whole debacle are minor compared to what we can accomplish if we can keep this ship in one piece. The practical thing would be to throw the refugees to the wolves. Then we could take apart Tenbrook’s fleet, return to Evagardian space, repair and rearm, then go take apart the Commonwealth navies. Absolutely.”

  “Are we going to do that?” Woodhouse asked, giving her a funny look.

  “Of course not. Tenbrook is still alive. To me that’s unacceptable. And the Empress doesn’t refuse aid to noncombatants, no matter how bad the situation, no matter how awkward or unsightly the circumstances. No matter how costly it might be.” She paused. “No matter how little value they have. We’ll protect Doyle and his people or die trying.” Mao swept them with her eyes. “Does anyone have anything else before we jump? How long before you have the last of the coordinates?” she asked the AI.

  “Forty seconds.”

  “Let’s talk about how our own people are suppressing long-range communications,” Woodhouse suggested. “And why they might be doing that, knowing full well it hamstrings us out here.”

  “This isn’t the time, Woodhouse. Lighten up.” Mao turned her chair around. “Besides, you saw Kladinova’s numbers. Maybe she can carry us.”

  General Dayal placed a white-gloved hand on his shoulder and leaned down. “Lieutenant Bjorn, may I see Lieutenant Kladinova’s flight data from the battle?”

  Bjorn felt his stomach drop. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll send it to you immediately.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Here we go,” Mao said.

  16

  THE Sunbath was exactly where Doyle’s message indicated it would be.

  Doyle hailed them immediately, and Mao ordered the ship’s AI to let him through.

  “Commander,” he greeted her. There were dark circles under his eyes, but his gaze was sharp. Bjorn had to remind himself that though the Lydia had lost one, Doyle had lost fifty thousand, among them his wife. “I’m glad you’re here,” Doyle said.

  “What’s your status?” Mao asked.

  “We took a lot of fire back there.”

  “How serious?”

  “I’m afraid to run the reactor at anything more than safe-level capacity; that’s the biggest issue. We’ve also got some coolant shortage. On top of that, this far over capacity, water and food are an issue. So is oxygen if I lose any more reserves and recyclers.”

  Mao stood up, looking troubled. “You can’t spin up?”

  “Maybe I can, but I won’t. If I go critical I can’t even get half these people off this ship, and even the ones I can won’t have a chance anyway. Where would they go?”

  “Then you can’t make another jump.”

  “Why did you think I asked for your help?”

  Mao sank into her chair. Bjorn felt sudden nausea, and he could see the others reacting similarly. If the Sunbath couldn’t jump, the plan wouldn’t work.

  “Tenbrook’s entire fleet is after you. How do you plan to get out of Demenis alive?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me, Commander.”

  “I was hoping you’d make this easy.”

  He just gazed at the feed.

  Mao massaged her temples. “What’s the best time you can make?”

  “Cruising speed, maybe.”

  “How long to make Evagardian space under limited propulsion?” Mao asked the AI.

  “Roughly three hundred hours, Commander.”

  Mao took a deep breath.

  Doyle wasn’t asking for help; he was asking for a solution. He didn’t see a way out of his predicament, but perhaps a part of him had hoped Mao might have an idea.

  “I thought as much,” he said, looking tired. “Can we try to bargain?”

  “It’s possible,” Mao said, tapping the arms of her chair. “But I don’t think you have anything to offer Tenbrook. The only offer we could make would be what he proposed to me, but you understand I can’t go for that.”

  He nodded.

  Mao closed her eyes for a moment, then got to her feet, calling up the Demenis charts.

  “We should get under way,” Doyle said. “There’s no harm in trying. It’s possible the damage you’re doing could become too costly for this operation to remain viable. He may back off.”

  Mao shook her head. “No. No chance of that. There’s an imperial defector with him. You’re not important, but we are. Tenbrook knows that value, and he won’t back off as long as there’s a chance of getting us. And as long as you’re out here with us, you’re a source of leverage. And if we leave you, he’ll just kill you for whatever bounty the Ganraens are offering. We have to stay together, but that guarantees that he’ll show up.”

  Bjorn swallowed. He wasn’t surprised at the decision, but it was still a blow. They wouldn’t be able to evade Tenbrook for long, and without the ability to jump to safety, the Sunbath would inevitably be destroyed. The outlook wasn’t any better for the Lydia and her crew. It was just a question of how long they could hold out.

  “It’s going to take some fancy footwork to get us through this,” Mao said, sighing.

  Doyle looked taken aback. “
Your pardon, ma’am?”

  “Footwork. I didn’t actually want to join the Service,” she confessed, putting her hands on her hips. Bjorn watched her bite her lip and look down at the deck. “I wanted to be a dancer. But I couldn’t get an apprenticeship. I didn’t have the right physique.”

  There was silence. Concerned, Bjorn got to his feet.

  Mao looked up, locking eyes with Doyle. “Captain Doyle, make your heading for Oasis.”

  “Wait. What?” Woodhouse looked up sharply.

  “Why would we go away from Evagardian space?” Doyle asked, clearly perplexed. “And to a well-known center of criminal activity?”

  “Look, the bottom line is that there’s only one thing in this system that can truly threaten my ship, and that’s Tenbrook’s battle station. It can jump, but the power it must need to do that has to be just ridiculous. It can’t jump far, and I’m guessing there was a reason it was so late to the party back there. It’s slow. Tenbrook will be fanning out his ships for us, and he will find us. Well, he’ll find you. My ship can hide from him. Yours can’t. The only way to stay out of his path is to go where he won’t be looking. Right now he knows we’re somewhere between him and imperial space, so that’s where he’s focusing his people. We have to be somewhere else.”

  “But isn’t going into a nest of pirates the same as letting him find us?”

  “Absolutely not.” Mao folded her arms and smirked. “Pirates we can handle, and this communications blackout might yet be good for something. Don’t forget who we are. We need to get you jump capable. With dry dock, how long to repair your ship?”

  “Considering the amount of personnel that I have to throw at the problem,” Doyle said, frowning, “not much. A few hours.”

  “Then that’s what we’re going to do. We’ll bypass Tenbrook completely. You can’t repair your reactor without shutting it down, and we can’t afford to be stationary. You’ll have to dock at Oasis.”

  “I just don’t see how that’s possible,” Doyle said, giving her a pleading look.

  “Without long-range coms, nobody there knows what Tenbrook is doing minute to minute, and even if they did, it would take them time to let him know where you were. The tricky part will be getting Oasis to play along,” Mao said, looking thoughtful. “But we can do it.”

  “How?” Doyle was intrigued now. He’d been lifting a cup of coffee, but now he’d forgotten all about it. Everyone on the bridge was silent. All eyes were on Mao. Even General Dayal looked curious.

  “I’m still figuring that out. Who runs Oasis?” Mao asked Woodhouse, who immediately called up his database.

  “Kei Zira. She was born on Luna, but her parents were private colonial physicians.”

  “Military background of any kind?”

  “Nothing official. She must have moved around a lot early. There was probably some action on some of those colonies.”

  Mao nodded. “So she’s a criminal, but not a general like Tenbrook. We’ll take Oasis hostage.”

  Doyle choked on his coffee. Dayal’s eyebrows lifted slightly. Bjorn just stared.

  “I’m reading about her now,” Mao said, flicking through feeds. “She lives in a yacht that’s anchored off the station. We’re undetectable and we have enough firepower to be a problem. We’ll hijack Zira’s yacht and force her to host you while you make your repairs. Then we’ll leave in peace. If we’re lucky we can get her to freeze the station harbors so no one can go running to Tenbrook.”

  Bjorn leaned back, his head spinning. Mao was onto something. This Zira woman was a gangster. She would protect her own life, and Mao wouldn’t be asking her for much in return.

  “She won’t be defenseless,” Bjorn pointed out.

  “Against us,” Mao said, smiling at him, “she might as well be.”

  She had a point.

  “Supposing we do get jump capability,” Doyle said slowly, looking at Mao in an entirely new way, “it’s still a long way to Burton Station.”

  “Yes. And there are no guarantees. But we’ll have a fighting chance. Footwork. It’ll all come down to footwork.” Mao became thoughtful again. “There are ways to distract and redirect Tenbrook. If you can get fit to jump and if there aren’t any mistakes, we can make a run for it. I’m not saying our odds are good; I’m just saying it’s not impossible. As long as we don’t give Tenbrook enough time to catch up to us with Perdita, we’re still in it. It’s not a great plan, but it’s what I’ve got. Unless you have a better idea, we need to get going. Tenbrook’s chasers will be here soon. He will decode these coordinates.”

  Doyle nodded.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  “And, Doyle?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry. I wish there was more I could do.”

  Doyle gave her a nod, and the communication ended. Mao immediately began to pace.

  “This’ll be dirty,” she said, biting her thumbnail. “Tenbrook’s headhunters will be able to disrupt jump planning. When they do catch up to us, they’ll try to pin us down long enough for the main body of his fleet to catch up.”

  “We’ll have to destroy them just as quickly as they can jump in on us,” Compton said. “We can do it.”

  Mao turned to look out the viewport. The stars glittered. “But he’ll try to get us with numbers, and it could work. He’s not going to run out of ships. He might run out of people who are actually enthusiastic about going up against us, but that won’t save us. Not before this is over. When it happens it’ll happen fast.”

  “We’ll need to make preparations for quick sorties,” General Dayal said from the corner, where she leaned against the bulkhead. “Cut down launch time even further.”

  “More people on alert means less rest,” Compton warned.

  “I’ve got plenty of stims,” Woodhouse replied.

  “We’ll also have to devote more power to our shields. There’s no point being a fast ship now; we’re only as fast as the Sunbath. If we drop our jump output to Doyle’s level, that should give us plenty of juice to soak up Tenbrook’s fire with. Could make a difference. Woodhouse, you and Morel have point on that. Tenbrook’s scouts could be jumping in on us at any second, at least theoretically.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Woodhouse rose and left the bridge.

  Mao turned to Bjorn. “You know what you have to do.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The more desperate the circumstances, the more critical Diana Kladinova’s flying would become. Mao was reminding Bjorn that he had two weapons to keep in good working order: his fighter, and his pilot.

  That was all right; Bjorn had been thinking along the same lines. Kladinova was already his priority.

  “One last thought,” Mao said, holding up her hands. “The best way to divert Tenbrook as a threat is counterintelligence. If we took one of his scouts, then succeeded in impersonating them, we could write our own story.”

  General Dayal shook her head. “A bold plan. Too bold. We can’t risk pilots in a boarding lightly. We’re too few already.”

  Mao sighed. “I agree. I just thought I’d put it out there. Dismissed.” She saluted. Bjorn and the others rose, returned the salute, and filed off the bridge and into the spine. Bjorn turned into Blue Bay and stopped, staring at Kladinova’s fighter. The Everwing was ready to go. It didn’t look like much, but now Bjorn knew better than anyone what it was capable of. Especially with Kladinova at the controls.

  He debated internally for just a moment, then opened his holo and sent General Dayal the combat data she’d asked for. He did not send her any pilot data. Dayal would notice the omission, but there was no way around it.

  She didn’t have free access to this data; only Bjorn did. But if she became suspicious and spoke with the commander, Mao could order Bjorn to come clean. Or Mao could just override it herself.

  He had to act quickly.<
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  Bjorn left the bay, jogging a short distance down the spine to the ship’s tiny infirmary. The room had never been used, but there was a lot of technology crammed into it. Three portable stasis units, a full surgical station, and a medical console, all in a space barely three meters to a side.

  The only indication that anyone had even entered the infirmary was the inventory feed, which was updated and maintained by Captain Woodhouse, the Lydia’s official physician.

  Bjorn looked at the cooler containing the Harbinger solution used in the Everwing fighters. Kladinova had lured DiJeur in here and strong-armed her. It couldn’t have been hard; DiJeur wouldn’t know how to stand up to an aristocrat. Bjorn barely knew how himself. It was serious misconduct, and now Bjorn was complicit.

  Of course, unlike Kladinova’s, Bjorn’s career had been over before he ever set foot on this vessel.

  He called up the inventory and checked the numbers. Kladinova hadn’t bothered to clean up after herself. It wasn’t sloppiness or stupidity; it was just bad timing for an overdeveloped sense of nobility. Kladinova was willing to take responsibility for what she was doing, but Bjorn wasn’t having it. He couldn’t risk someone interfering. The Lydia couldn’t afford another distraction.

  Next he had to look at her medical data in more detail. Kladinova probably wouldn’t like him accessing that information, but she’d like it a lot less if Dayal and the commander shut them down before they could even put this plan to work.

  Elevated heart rate, high body temperature. That was alarming, but it looked like Kladinova had cooled off a little after the battle. She was still running hot, though. It was only a marginal high, but it was clearly noticeable in the line graph.

  Bjorn didn’t have time to go too deeply into how the Harbinger was affecting her. He took care of the obvious things: smoothing over the Harbinger spike in her bloodstream, and leveling off her vitals. Now if someone looked, nothing would stand out. That was the best he could do.