by TR Cameron
His seneschal gave a thin smile. “So may it be, Hierarch.”
UPON ARRIVAL at the palace Kraada received an honor guard comprising four of the emperor’s trained thugs. He managed surreptitious glances at each as they walked and concluded the one behind him on his left was an elite killer in disguise. Predators moved differently than did common bullies. He was certain the soldier would recognize the same in him. If the situation devolved, that man would be the first to die, followed by Drovaa and Emperor Enjaaran.
They walked the ornate hall to the throne room—walls covered with gold filigree, a wide blue carpet on the floor, and gemstone mosaics at seemingly random intervals. The images told of the ascension of the Xroeshyn: from their beginnings, through their first great war with the Domeki, and up to the present. It ended three-eighths of the way down the wall.
The mural makers were very optimistic about the future. Or, at least unwilling to risk the emperor’s displeasure by suggesting anything other. Either way, a wise choice.
The doors ahead of him opened with a whisper as uniformed soldiers on both sides pulled the huge slabs apart. His escorts guided him onto the indigo passage leading to the throne. Carved from blocks of gems fused together through arcane processes known only to the emperor’s palace staff, the bricks upon which he now walked were a pure, dark sapphire. It wasn’t as impressive as the faceted diamond that served as stairs to the throne, but it offered an unsubtle warning to anyone that traveled it. The sapphires had been repeatedly bathed in the lifeblood of enemies of the emperors. Additional anointing was a virtual guarantee.
Kraada Tak was annoyed to see an audience present. Much like he’d gathered together his people in the church on the day of his provocation, the emperor and the marshal had summoned theirs. Row upon row of military officers stood at sharp attention while what seemed like the emperor’s entire guard was arranged in neat rows opposite them. Drovaa waited at the base of the pedestal on the same side as his underlings, watching Kraada approach with vicious eyes.
He was sure that his own glare matched in intensity and sharpness.
“Your Grace,” Kraada said, upon reaching the stairs before the pedestal and bowing. Every other subject of the emperor would kneel until told to rise. The hierarch knelt to no one other than the gods, which Enjaaran Velt was certainly not. He kept his head down, awaiting acknowledgment.
The emperor made him wait for several minutes while he conferred with his own seneschal. Petty, Kraada thought. Entirely petty. Fittingly petty. His mind continued spooling out descriptors of the emperor’s pettiness as he waited. It was a useful meditation.
The emperor’s seneschal broke the silence with a loud announcement, “Hierarch Kraada Tak, you are called to account for your recent actions.”
Kraada looked up at him and replied, “Of what actions do you speak, underling?”
The audience didn’t quite gasp, but there was a definite rustle as they repositioned in response to the aggressive tone and words of the hierarch.
Marshal Drovaa spoke up, “You know very well what the seneschal is referring to, Kraada Tak. You met in secret with the captain of one of our vessels, who should’ve been at the front lines, but who illicitly returned to this planet for undoubtedly nefarious reasons.”
He looked to the emperor for permission to speak and received a lazy wave from the man. His actions belied his expression as his eyes bored into Kraada’s own.
“I presume you’re referring to my niece, Indraat Vray, who I met with only one day ago. She wasn’t here in her capacity as captain of the Ruby Rain, or as leader of the vanguard fighting the humans, Drovaa. She was here to consult with me on matters religious and familial, nothing more.”
Drovaa let out a scoffing laugh. “You would have the emperor accept this story, at this moment in time, Hierarch? Doubtless you believe the spiritual well-being of the captain is more important than her presence on the front lines persecuting the holy war you yourself have declared?”
Kraada read the smugness in the expressions of those surrounding him, their perception that they’d scored a point radiating outward.
“As I’m sure you know, Marshal, in your position as leader of our military, our forces are undergoing a resupply. After two successful battles led by Squadron-Captain Indraat, the ships are rearming, refueling, and taking on supplies to prepare them for the next push into the enemy territory. It was during this downtime that my niece found an opportunity to transit home. Surely, you’re aware of the need for our ships to resupply between engagements, Marshal?”
Drovaa went rigid at Kraada’s mocking words. His hand twitched, doubtless itching to reach for the weapon that was no longer at his side. Kraada was relieved the emperor hadn’t granted Drovaa that much latitude. “Be that as it may, assuming that we believe this fanciful tale you tell, why the need to meet with your niece so far beyond the city limits?”
“The truth is, Marshal, I didn’t find out about my niece’s visit until the plans for my circuit of churches were already underway. As you no doubt know, I left the day before to meet with several of my priests. The timing was fortuitous, allowing Vray to see a part of the countryside that she hadn’t experienced, but it was merely a coincidence.” He took a moment to school his features into an expression of pure innocence. “I apologize that my niece’s need to finally check on her dear uncle after an attempt on his life has caused you such suspicion and distress. As she has been busy securing victories for our people, she was unable to check on my well-being for herself until yesterday.”
“It’s odd, though, that surveillance cameras never captured her disembarking from any ship at the spaceport, Hierarch.”
“Marshal, the last time I checked, the security of our home world was your purview, not mine. I know nothing about cameras, their state of readiness, or the dependability of those who monitor them.”
Kraada imagined that the attendant standing next to the marshal could hear Drovaa’s teeth grinding even though he kept his expression neutral. “Emperor Enjaaran, I find the hierarch’s explanation lacking at best, fanciful at worst, and inadequate in any case. I request permission to remove Indraat Vray from command pending full review of her actions.”
Kraada struggled to freeze his face as disbelief washed over him. This was a play he hadn’t anticipated. He and Indraat had planned for an attempt to assassinate her, for an attempt to assassinate him, or for a battlefield “accident” that caused her ship to fall to friendly fire. For Drovaa to lose face in such a public way by making this request was virtually unexplainable.
Unless is the emperor’s idea, and he wants to make that clear, Kraada thought to himself, seeing the bigger game in play.
For a moment, he was delighted at how the emperor used Drovaa as a pawn, but then returned his focus to the moment at hand. Enjaaran wasn’t speaking, awaiting a response from Kraada.
“Of course, the word of the emperor is law. And it’s your choice to make if the marshal isn’t capable of making it himself. However, Your Grace, allow me to offer an alternative perspective. One of the most accomplished captains that you have, sought religious counsel at home during a time of holy war. And she did it in a way that did not jeopardize her command. Is the message that family and attention to the gods are subordinate to the interpretive whims of a military commander? Had she been ordered not to leave her ship or to stay at the front, the marshal would have reason to castigate her for returning without approval. However, he personally invested her with authority over the fleet, and she has acted on every occasion professionally, reliably, and most importantly, with loyalty to the military, to the gods, and to her family.
Kraada opened his arms wide, and continued, “If that isn’t the very archetype of the officer we want leading our forces, then I am very confused as to what that person might be like.” He fell silent, watching the emperor, and could see that his words hadn’t moved the man. Scrambling, he stumbled as he spoke again, “Let me offer an alternative, if I may. The next
battle is planned, the orders are given, and it will soon begin. Allow her performance in this engagement be the test that proves her ability and her loyalty. If you perceive her as lacking in any way after, I won’t speak against your judgment.” Left unsaid was the promise that if they chose otherwise, he would speak about their judgment, and quite vociferously at that.
The two men exchanged glances, and they nodded. Kraada couldn’t help thinking that once again he wasn’t getting the complete picture.
“Your request has merit, Hierarch. We’ll do as you suggest and wait for the results of the next battle.” The emperor waved lazily again, and Kraada was escorted from the palace. He spoke not a word, his mind racing and feeling as if he’d walked into a trap that he still couldn’t see.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Kate ducked, barely avoiding a beam that absolutely shouldn’t have been jutting into the middle of the passageway. “Watch your head, darlin’,” Jannik said, several seconds too late to be of use.
“Thanks for the warning. May I ask why there’s a giant metal support in the corridor?”
“I would’ve thought that explanation was simple,” Jannik replied. “The commander there, managed to wreck the entire front end of the ship, and it’s been put back together in, let’s call it a less-than-pristine fashion.”
Cross spoke without offense, “I did not single-handedly destroy the front end of the ship. The damned Xroeshyn had something to do with it, as I recall.”
St. John commented, “The commander’s responsible for everything that happens on the ship. Isn’t that right, Sinner?”
Cynthia Murphy nodded at him and said, “That it is, Saint. That it is.”
Kate laughed and again ducked under a protuberance blocking her path. “They did a good job given the time they had, all things considered.”
“They did at that.” Cross was checking every detail, the pride in the ship he now commanded apparent. “She’s dinged, but she’ll keep on fighting, just like us.”
“You should be aware, though, my boy, that the repair monkeys here at the starbase used mainly salvaged parts to put the old girl back together.”
Cross frowned a little, and Kate felt herself frowning along with him.
“Why is that, Jannik?”
“It’s pretty much all we have. The fabrication facilities are building items to bring new vessels on line, not to create repair pieces for ancient ones. Ships like the Washington, designed before everything went modular, need special attention.”
“And you’re just the man to give it to her,” Cross said with a laugh.
“That I am. However, it means that she’s weaker here than she would be otherwise. A careful commander would want to take that into account when he makes his plans, or, when she makes her plans,” he said, giving Kate a look.
“Rest assured, Jannik, both Cross and I will treat her with the utmost care.”
The chief engineer snorted. “Just like you have so far? You young whippersnappers are always damaging the equipment. Why I oughta…” he trailed off, and the assembled group rewarded him with the laughter his short tirade deserved.
“There is some news that’s completely good,” Kate said, letting Jannik shift forward to take the lead as they moved through the repaired section. “Our retrofit included some new technology.”
“Marine simulators?” Cynthia Murphy had requested that upgrade some time ago, but they hadn’t been able to make it happen due to the pressing need to combat the Xroeshyn incursion.
Kate shook her head. “I’m afraid not, Sinner. Still waiting on those. The first available models also wound up on the new ships.”
“Damned Okoye, he always gets the best toys,” Cross’s voice rang with self-aware jealousy.
“Be that as it may,” Kate replied, “we have advanced torpedoes and a brand-new device that should hopefully counteract the aliens’ ability to hinder our movements.”
“Really?”
“Really, really.”
“They’re calling them tunnel preservers,” Jannik chimed in. “And somehow they mess with gravity like the things that the Xroeshyn send out. As I understand it, they analyze what those devices are doing, and then do the exact opposite to cancel it out. It’s wave cancellation on a sector-wide scale. They’re also self-propelled and explosive, so once they get close enough to latch onto the enemy’s blockers, they can destroy them.”
Cross whistled. “That will make a difference. Now were getting somewhere.”
Jannik continued, “Even better, we’ve got upgraded spiders and ferrets. They’re more durable, vacuum-rated, and shielded from most nasty radiation.”
“That doesn’t sound like it’s inspired by the needs of the engineering division,” Kate said.
“Don’t you know? The rest of the fleet learned from our little experiment with additional uses for them, and now they’re standard issue. I can envision a time when ships will crawl with spiders, inside the interior passageways and all across the hull. They’ll check and deal with damage as it occurs, rather than waiting for it to grow large enough to catch our attention.”
“Too bad that time isn’t here yet.”
The older man nodded at Cross. “Too bad indeed. Our supply is barely sufficient for our expected needs, given the danger that you keep putting this ship into.”
“You’d do it differently?”
“Of course not. But it’s good to have someone to blame. Engineers have a long-standing prerogative to criticize the officers in command. Didn’t you know that?”
Cross refrained from speaking, only giving a mysterious smile in response to Jannik’s words.
“Anything else from your mother or the science geeks, Kate?” he asked.
“Only one more thing. We analyzed the aliens’ propulsion systems well enough that we can now recognize traces of it. Our forward ships seeded the sectors along the projected advance route with early warning devices. Hopefully that’ll give us an alarm when they move again.”
Cross reached up to his ear piece and tapped the button on his headset. “Lieutenant Commander, are you listening in?”
“Yes, sir, as commanded.” Claire Martin was in the captain’s chair on the bridge, but was part of their conference, the only missing member of the Washington’s command team.
“Are we integrated with these forward sensors?”
“No, Commander. The communication network isn’t set up. Each sector has a tunnel beacon that will fly to the nearest communication hub when one of the devices activates.”
Cross frowned and looked at Kate. She shrugged in response and said, “We can only do so much, so quickly. It wasn’t workable to build tunnel drives into them, and we don’t have reliable communications going out that far that can also offer the speed we need. This is the best option given those restraints.”
“I guess it’ll have to be enough, then, won’t it?” He turned to Jannik. “So, what’s the final tally?”
Jannik shook his head in mock remorse. “Our drives are back up to ninety percent. We might make it to ninety-three percent if we push, but more than that would be a disaster. Each broadside is down several weapons, a mixture of energy and torpedo. The torpedo and point defense loading mechanisms are patched and backup paths installed to make use of the infrastructure behind the guns that survived. But it’s kludgy at best. I wouldn’t count on them, but would consider them a bonus for however many shots we get.”
“No salvaged parts to replace those?”
“Usually by the time the ship’s ready for salvage, it’s down to superstructure, armor panels, and hopefully enough of an engine to get home on its own.”
Cross thought back to the brutal damage that the Washington had taken during the last battle and remained silent.
“I think what the chief engineer is trying to tell you, Commander,” the smooth accent of Rhys St. John filled in, “is to be careful and try not to break the ship again.”
“I’m not oblivious, Gunnery Sergeant.” A
stifling of coughs met that pronouncement, and Cross looked at the faces of his officers. “I’m not completely oblivious, Gunnery Sergeant,” he amended. That elicited a round of affirmative responses.
Kate had just stepped forward to ask about the repairs to the auxiliary shuttle bay in front of them, when a loud klaxon interrupted. Lieutenant Commander Martin’s voice came over the loudspeakers, “Attention all hands, attention all hands. The Xroeshyn are gathering one sector away from Starbase 12. Military command believes an attack is imminent. All section heads, make your sections ready for wormhole transit in twenty minutes from… mark.” On Kate’s wrist, a countdown began from twenty.
“Looks like we have things to do, folks,” Kate said. “Luck.”
“Luck,” everyone responded, then moved to their assigned tasks. The Washington was heading back out into battle.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
On the bridge of the Ruby Rain, Indraat Vray gripped the arms of her chair and tried not to scream. On the main display, she saw her forces arranged as ordered, awaiting a final systems check before moving into battle. Her religious officer, however, seemed to possess an alternate opinion about the need for that final check.
“All I am saying, Squadron-Captain, is that we should attack with speed. The gods did not ask us to make this a fair fight. They demand that we be bold, that we wipe their stain from the universe. We cannot do that sitting in this damned sector for the next several hours.”
Indraat swiveled her chair to the left, looking up at him. She considered cutting him down to size, putting him on his knees so he’d look up at her instead, but decided it that was a petty amusement inappropriate to the moment. “Raanja, it isn’t for you to concern yourself with the tactics and strategies of our battle. Your job is to make sure that the religious needs of the crew and captain are met. Nothing more.”
The man glared, his wings flicking out wide in agitation. “Respectfully, Squadron-Captain, that is not the case. I’m here as an adviser to you, and as the senior religious officer of the vanguard it’s part of my responsibility to oversee the spiritual aspects of the battle. And I will tell you now, allowing these trespassers one more moment of life is not the will of the gods.”
