Petron

by Blaze Ward

  “Yes, sir,” Velazquez said.

  Ames escorted them out of the room. Vo departed a minute later and headed to a nearby chamber, where Denis had been following the entire meeting with the men of Cutlass Ten.

  “Will it be enough, do you suppose?” Vo asked.

  Denis shrugged, but that was the most honest answer possible.

  “Phil Kosnett is a good man and a good officer, Vo,” Denis said. “I can promise you he will listen to what you have to say. And you made a powerful case, both before and now. What Petia Naoumov decides to do with what you tell her is beyond calculation. She might toss it into the incinerator. She might show it to Horvat and have a good laugh because she’s in on it with him. And she might break all her oaths and go public with it. That’s likely to bring down the government in complete disgrace, so we’ll have to decide how hard we want to hammer them while we wait for the outcome.”

  “Take us into Imperial space, Admiral,” Vo commanded the man.

  He could do that. He spoke for the Crown. Ritter of the Imperial Household. It was a heavy responsibility, but it was his to bear.

  “And then, zu Arlo?” Denis asked.

  “And then we find out just how badly everybody wants to misbehave.”

  CHAPTER L

  IMPERIAL FOUNDING: 183/07/11. IFV ACHTERBERG, EDGE OF THE LAGOS SYSTEM

  TOM WAS SITTING on the bridge of the old frigate Achterberg, enjoying the memories of the distant past, when this ship had been one of his escorts. Back in the days when Tom had been the Captain of Amsel and Em had just started his immortal duel with Jessica.

  The boat was desperately out-classed by all the new designs everyone was in the process of building these days, but he had a soft spot for the old ship. Enough so that he had grabbed that as his courier to get to the front. His old friend, Will Dannahue, now Captain of the boat, would appreciate the chance to take the old ship into one last battle.

  “Tom, signals from the Sector HQ,” Will said as they maneuvered on the edge of the safe zone. “That looks like IFV Indianapolis in dock, but she’s by herself. And flying the Imperial standard, as if the Emperor was aboard.”

  Tom studied the orbital layout and had to agree. That was Indi but she was absolutely alone. Considering the force the Flag Cruiser had been with, he was more willing to assume she was racing ahead of Denis with information, and maybe creating a distraction, rather than the possibility that someone had brought a big enough hammer to stop that fleet.

  “Contact her as fast as you can,” Tom said. “Tell them I’m aboard with orders from home and we need to rendezvous. Hopefully, I haven’t just ended your run and now I have to send you back to Emmerich with a packet while I swap hulls.”

  “Hey, Indi can keep doing that run,” Will grinned at him. “I’m headed to the front lines to kick some ass.”

  “Maybe, Will,” Tom said, smiling back. “Either way, let Charlie know that he probably needs to pack. I’m guessing he’s asleep right now, or just about to wake up for breakfast. I’m headed aft.”

  “On it, sir,” Will said as the hatch closed behind him.

  The old frigates were tiny compared to the battleships and heavy dreadnaught Tom had commanded for the last decade, but they were still huge compared to the new corvette designs, where everything was much more compact. Charlie was standing outside Tom’s hatch when he finally came around the corner.

  “We moving flags?” Charlie asked. “Will said Indianapolis was in port.”

  “That’s my guess,” Tom said. “Either way, we’re now about to catch up on news from Denis and Vo, so we need to hang out here for a bit and get organized. Achterberg can lay in supplies, even if they don’t need much, just because Indi can hold more, and I’d like to give Will a chance, if we can.”

  “Flag Cruiser and an old frigate?” Charlie laughed as Tom opened the hatch.

  Tom entered his cabin and started pulling things from drawers while Charlie went after the closet.

  “Hey, look what Jessica did with an antique strike carrier, a one-off heavy destroyer, and a revenue cutter,” Tom said. “Throw in a single modern battlecruiser and they still kicked our asses at Ballard.”

  “Truth, but she’s on our side, at least one more time,” Charlie nodded.

  “One more time, my friend,” Tom said. “Hopefully the last time it’s needed.”

  Rather than wait for signals to bounce back and forth, Tom and Charlie loaded up all their gear with a team of stewards that Will had sent, and got everything aboard an administrative shuttle.

  “We’re ready to launch as soon as we hear from the bridge, Admiral,” the pilot called as they stowed things aft. “One Jump in close, and then we’re off.”

  “Understood, but we’ll be in system for a few days, so get ready to load cargo before I know our next destination.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  Tom felt them blink into JumpSpace and then drop out almost immediately.

  “Stand by to launch.”

  And the shuttle lurched into space. Not as clean as some of them Tom had flown on, but the pilot seemed to be trying to punch a hole in the solar wind to get them there.

  Fast enough, they were aboard Indianapolis, not quite jogging through the corridors, but the lieutenant was having to stretch his legs out to stay ahead of them.

  The flag bridge hadn’t changed. It felt like coming home, especially to see Reif stand as they entered.

  “Good news or bad news?” Tom asked as he and Charlie sat.

  Tom felt like someone had punched him in the gut as Reif Kingston laid out the entire assassination plot Vo and Denis had uncovered and eventually unraveled. Aquitaine really wanted a war.

  What the hell did it gain anyone?

  No, bad question. A politician thought he could introduce chaos into the mix and then surf the wave as it sucked everyone else under. They were like that, sometimes.

  Tom and Charlie, in turn, explained everything that had happened at home. It was a messy tale.

  “Okay, first things first, you’ll drop the ruse of the Imperial flag, Reif,” Tom said. “I just came here from her, so I know better. But I do like the thought of a shell game, so we’ll go quiet and dispatch half a dozen couriers at once, just to further confuse all the spies around here.”

  “Got it,” Reif nodded, typing a message to the bridge, no doubt.

  “Next, Denis needs to know what Jessica and Em are up to, so you’ll turn right back around and we’ll go find them,” Tom said. “Worse comes to worst, we’ve got two red admirals with me and Denis that could split the force and hit multiple targets as we need to. More likely, I’ll take overall command and we’ll defend Salonnian space while Queen Jessica goes after Lincolnshire on her own, especially if that brings Aquitaine down across one of the borders.”

  “So those couriers you want to send, how about we just get them going to every station along this border with secret updates from Em?” Reif asked.

  “Basically,” Tom agreed. “Jessica’s behind me, moving at fleet speeds with a bunch of old boats, but she doesn’t have to stop to find you and Denis like I did. So notify places like Ashadha and Surat Thani. I’m presuming we can find Denis and Vo at one of those places, or maybe C’Xindo?”

  “Yes,” Reif said. “After they went to Hemera, C’Xindo was their first choice, since it was a major fleet base and gives them strategic flexibility.”

  “Good,” Tom said. “I’ll transfer my flag here and turn this tub around. Do you want to stay here or move over to Achterberg and raise your flag on the frigate?”

  “Who’s commanding over there these days?” Reif asked.

  “Will Dannahue,” Tom replied. “He was Third Officer, back when Amsel went after Ballard. They suffered a power systems failure in flight and never made it to the battle on time, so we picked them up as an escort after we limped to the rendezvous. Investigation cleared him when the Captain and Chief Engineer went down for it. Eventually he made it to captain himself.”r />
  “Good kid?” Reif asked.

  Tom and Charlie both laughed. If you could call a career naval man in his late thirties a kid, but the rest of them were all well past that these days.

  “He is,” Tom said. “That’s part of the reason I brought him here. He’s chomping at the bit for a chance to take the ship into battle, since he knows that those boats are for the breakers soon.”

  “Then how about I take Achterberg and join up with Jessica,” Reif said. “That sets up a line of communication there, and adds one more ship to her fleet. Those old frigates are in over their heads against the new stuff, but nothing Lincolnshire’s fielding is that impressive.”

  “Until Aquitaine sends an expeditionary fleet, Reif,” Charlie spoke up. “Then we’ll end up having to bring Denis’s fleet down to protect you.”

  “Understood, but maybe we can keep this end tied down tight and it ends up only being a fight between Lincolnshire and Corynthe?” Reif asked. “If Salonnia minds their manners after this, and Fribourg steers clear of a confrontation, we’ve got a chance to contain all this stupidity you’ve just explained.”

  “Sounds good,” Tom said. “We’ll transfer flags as soon as all the couriers depart. Then we’ll pack, split, and go see if we can stop a war.”

  “Can we really?” Charlie asked. “Stop a war from breaking out, I mean.”

  “That, or make sure we win the damned thing, Charlie,” Tom replied.

  CHAPTER LI

  DATE OF THE REPUBLIC JULY 17, 405 PENMERTH, LADAUX

  “DISMISSED,” Tad managed to sound at least reasonably polite as the courier departed.

  He could call her back later, but she had delivered a three sentence summary of the ominous information packet currently resting on his desk.

  Emperor Karl VIII and Grand Admiral Emmerich zu Wachturm arrived on St. Legier sometime before June 6, method unknown.

  The Emperor herself had directed the House of Dukes to ignore the treaty request and turned all conversations to potential war with Aquitaine.

  The Imperial Fleet had moved to a war footing overnight and mobilization orders from the Grand Admiral were moving out to all stations.

  Tad had no clue how it was possible that the woman could have made it back to St. Legier that quickly. He had once served as a Command Centurion with the RAN, and did not believe it was possible to achieve. And yet she had done it.

  Worse, she was not with that war fleet in Salonnia. All of his other plans had been built on the expectation that she would be isolated from the center of her power for several more months at a minimum. War should have broken out on the galactic fringes and grown out of all control before she could return to St. Legier and do anything to control it. Salonnia hammered mercilessly. Corynthe crushed.

  And the whole Cahllepp Frontier, once the site of Keller’s Raid, would be on fire again as First War Fleet shifted squadrons over to hit those same places that Keller had once made famous.

  Tad wondered if he would need to order the First Lord to hold back more forces defensively now, when he had been expecting to hit everything fast and hard, right on the heels of a declaration of war in support of his ally. The latest news from Judit was that she almost had Lincolnshire set to pick a fight with the Empire. Once that happened, Tad was, of course, duty-bound to assist.

  Chaos.

  But none of it his making.

  Conversely, this latest development was not good.

  Worse, this had Keller’s fingerprints on it. Tad would not know for sure until the latest courier returned from Petron, but his gut told him that Jessica had somehow spirited Kasimira home against all possible belief.

  Tad frowned. He pulled one of the other notebooks from his drawer and began to quickly cycle through his notes.

  Yes. There. Judit’s unfortunate confrontation with Keller, when she had overplayed her hand. Participants at that meeting had included Tomas Kigali.

  The Navigator.

  Kigali would have looked on it as a challenge to sail directly to St. Legier without stopping. If he did the math, or asked an expert, Tad was suddenly sure that the time in transit was small enough to have accomplished that task.

  It had been done, therefore it was possible to do.

  Who else was on that ship?

  Karl VIII. Wachturm. Kigali.

  Jež? Kasum?

  Aeliaes and d’Maine were buttoned up, currently overhead as part of Home Fleet, protecting the capital and Fleet Headquarters from any raids. That was half of Keller’s Merry Men, as Nils had always referred to that team.

  Where was Jessica Keller?

  That was the Thousand-Lev question. Had she flown to St. Legier with Kasimira? Arlo was known to have survived the assassination attempt, but his death or survival was immaterial. The attack itself had been enough to start the surge of anger that would erupt into a general war soon enough.

  Still, Tad ground his teeth in barely-suppressed rage as the chaos threatened to spill over where it was not supposed to go. All of his plans had presumed another six more months of Imperial confusion, as his allies in Lincolnshire moved to engulf the entire sector in flames and chaos. Reflagged Republic squadrons would shatter Salonnian defenses, all while Tad and his diplomats were dealing in misinformation for the House of Dukes. Raids into Imperial space would also distract Kasimira’s fleet, keep them from making it home to stop him.

  Would have, but they served almost no purpose now, if she wasn’t aboard to be slowed down.

  What would it cost him, if Fribourg suddenly came into the war now?

  Where was Keller?

  Tad quickly scanned the Executive Summary from the report, but it did not answer that question.

  He would need to move certain schedules forward and escalate things today.

  Tad opened up a new notebook and began writing Judit a new set of orders. It would take time for the message to get to her, so she would only find out about Karl VIII’s surprise appearance at the same time as she got this packet.

  She would need to send a force to crush Petron’s defenses, and probably do it about the same time the courier from Petron returned to her with whatever information they had about Keller’s location.

  If Keller was there, and had refused orders to return to duty, then Tad would not bother trying to remove her from power. He would simply declare war on Corynthe and annihilate her fleet.

  If she was gone elsewhere, as he suspected, then she would lose even worse because her power base would be gone before she could return, and there would be nothing she could do about it.

  Tad didn’t even have to try to set a puppet on the throne. All he would have to do is shatter the system’s defenses and eliminate David Rodriguez, either dead or fled into the wilderness. Someone else would step up at that point and challenge for the Kingdom. Keller might come back, but she was a decade and a halg older now, no longer the militant blade goddess who had first conquered these men.

  Plus, Aquitaine wouldn’t let her stay, either way.

  Tadej Horvat would make that much personal.

  CHAPTER LII

  IN THE TWELFTH YEAR OF JESSICA KELLER, QUEEN OF THE PIRATES: JUNE THE EIGHTEENTH AT PETRON

  “DAMN YOU, BEDROV,” Asra snarled as the man finished his explanation. “What did we do to deserve this load of horseshit?”

  If that old man thought that he could just announce that they would be grounded and expect her and her sister to take that crap lying down, she might have to kick his ass right here, just to prove a point.

  Saša didn’t look like she was feeling any more charitable on the topic, so it would be one middle-aged Naval Architect against Neon Pink and Rocket Frog, if he didn’t come up with something really good in short order.

  Asra looked around the small room where the two of them had been summoned. Wiley was here, but sitting across the table from them, looking more like the Rear Admiral of the Fleet than their Command Centurion who was expecting to go to bat for them.

  Bedrov was n
ext to her, making gestures with his hands like you might do if you wandered into the wrong alley and interrupted a pack of dogs in the process of mauling someone.

  Ainsley Barret was the only one who seemed to want to smile.

  What really hurt though, was that Pops was over there. At least their foster father had the courtesy to look pained as the folks on that side of the table explained how Neon Pink and Rocket Frog would no longer be flying the Light Wing on Kali-ma. Or commanding the Queen’s Own, from the sounds of things.

  It was probably a good thing she didn’t normally carry a knife on her belt. Asra might have just hammered it through one of Bedrov’s hands right now, like a bug spiked to the table top.

  “Kid, I’m sorry,” Yan explained again. “The two of you invented a wild and fantastic new future, and will go down in history for it, but the galaxy has changed.”

  “So you’re done with us?” Saša snarled at the man, just as angry as her identical twin.

  Twenty-four years old now. Eight years flying pro. Three years in command of the Queen’s Own. Not many people could tell them apart, even today.

  “No,” Pops finally spoke up, his voice both husky and sharp. “We’re talking about your sleds, not the pilots. Those are done. We need to move you into something else. Something better.”

  Asra ground her teeth and measured the distance required to drop a fist on Bedrov’s hand anyway, knife or not. She could still break bones before he moved it, unless his reflexes had somehow gotten better with age.

  “Asra, Saša, sit back,” Wiley ordered in the kind of voice that wasn’t asking twice. “You don’t have to calm down, but you do have to listen. At least if you want to keep flying in my navy.”