Alabaster Noon

by Chris Kennedy

  “You don’t,” Sly said. “You have a choice. You can do nothing until your fleet returns. It will be damaged and war weary. They will be low on supplies and not ready for a protracted battle. When the enemy comes in behind them, since you will probably have little time to make preparations, you will be in a poor position to defend your system. Or, as a better option, you could listen to me and do everything possible to protect yourselves.”

  “It is a simple choice,” Seldia said as she carefully set the miniature ship back down. “Choose wisely, Human.” The two Fae jumped off the desk and headed for the door.

  “You said the enemy is behind our fleet,” Aleksandra called after them. “You are certain?”

  They stopped and looked back at her. “Yes,” Sly said. “They know where New Warsaw is now.”

  “How do you know?”

  Sly looked at her, his eyes unblinking as he seemed to consider her question. “We have allies throughout the galaxy. Information reaches us through other Far Talkers. All I can say is that your secret has been on the verge of discovery for months, maybe years. It was inevitable.”

  Aleksandra sighed. The Cromwells had believed that was the case for a long time. Sooner or later, New Warsaw would cease to be a secret. Then she thought of something. “You said our fleet left a day ago. This means we were defeated more than a day ago.” Sly nodded. “Why did you wait this long to tell us?”

  “A day won’t make a difference,” Sly said. “You still have almost six days before your fleet returns. Besides, we had some things to set in motion ourselves. Prepare yourselves.” The Fae left her alone.

  It was as if they had never been there. Her office was unchanged. The same display was frozen over her desk, the art was the same, only the clock showed time had passed. She looked at the “Impending Attack” file again.

  Phase 1: Mobilize all reserves.

  Phase 2: Initiate economic freeze in preparation for war materials production.

  “Entropy,” she cursed. “Nothing will ever be the same after I do these things.”

  The clock clicked forward slowly, every second one less they had to prepare. She clicked the comms control on her desk, and when the screen came up she typed in the code associated with “Impending Attack.”

  “Enter security access,” the computer instructed. She typed in her code, and everything started.

  * * *

  EMS Shadowfax, Hyperspace

  Captain Elizabeth Stacy stared dumbly at her Tri-V display and kept shaking her head every few minutes. She’d watched the recording a dozen times, maybe more. The one person she admired more than her own late father, Colonel Alexis Cromwell, had been murdered by her second in command. Shot in the back in cold blood while on a mission to stop a war which now seemed all but lost.

  Elizabeth had graduated from the Winged Hussars Space Academy two years behind the Cromwell twins. She’d served with both of them multiple times, including as the XO of Whirlaway during the debacle in the Theel system more than 20 years ago. Nobody knew the inner workings of the Cromwell family, only that the two sisters were no longer friends after that.

  Twelve years ago, she’d been serving on the intel cutter John Andre as navigator when she’d gotten the news that Katrina Cromwell was dead. She’d cried then, just like now. It was all she could do not to cry when Alexis had pinned her commander rank on and assigned her to her first command, the Legend-class Durendal, just six months later, shortly before Alexis’ mother followed her daughter into the void.

  She never knew Alexis Cromwell well enough to sit and talk like women do—about her life, her loss, her loves—but everyone in the Hussars knew Alexis was Human and sometimes found companionship. She was unbelievably discreet, but when you run a unit as big as the Hussars, as well as an entire star system, being discreet was easier said than done. She seemed to have no closer companion than Paka.

  “Bitch,” Elizabeth snarled and closed the Tri-V with a backhanded swipe. She used the same hand to wipe away the tears. “Rotten bitch of a rat,” she screamed and pounded her desk. She would have floated away if it weren’t for the waist strap around her.

  Her ready room was an exact copy of the one on Pegasus. When the four new Egleesius battlecruisers were brought back from 2nd level hyperspace and went into refit, Sato had matched their design to Pegasus. She had to admit it helped. If you’d served on Pegasus, you knew your way around Shadowfax, Phaeton, Arion, or Nuckelavee. Naturally, though, there were a few design improvements, since they had 90 years’ of experience and lessons learned from Pegasus. However, none of the new ones would have Pegasus’ advantage.

  There was no official word on what that advantage was, exactly. Consensus among the ranks was that the ghost of Katrina Cromwell haunted her halls and engineering spaces. The command staff believed it was some form of programming wizardry accomplished by Katrina prior to her death. Elizabeth wasn’t sure if she bought either of those. Something told her the truth was more complicated and simultaneously simpler than either of those. She believed the ship’s edge was a Cromwell, just not Katrina.

  “Captain Stacy?”

  Her XO, Evie Miller was at her ready room door. “Yes?”

  “The damage reports are on your screen, ma’am.”

  “Thank you,” Elizabeth said. “How are the mercs doing?’

  “We have them crowded in. Life support is managing.”

  “No, I mean, how are they?”

  “Oh,” Evie said. “They’re quiet. Lieutenant Greeg said that likely means they’re more pissed than anything.”

  If anyone could get the feel of the mercs, it was Greeg. The Aposa was twitchy, like all Aposa, but that didn’t detract from him being a good marine, or how well he understood Humans. “Just keep an eye on them, okay? We don’t want any trouble. Troopers with anger issues to work off might look for an opportunity to take it out on each other.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Evie said and departed to see to her captain’s orders.

  Elizabeth called up the reports on her slate and examined the details. Shadowfax didn’t fair too badly during the battle for Earth’s orbitals. On the retreat things got hectic. After Alexis was killed and another fleet showed up, their situation had been untenable. No one person had assumed fleet command; everything had been too hectic.

  The forces that could be evacuated from Earth made a run for transports. Most would never have made it, and, thus, didn’t try—they’d gone to ground. She hoped. Jim Cartwright and his fantastic Raknars had surrendered to save themselves. She wasn’t sure she would have done that; she’d probably have fought to the last. But he was young and with less experience under his belt.

  The Horsemen were what mattered. They were the figureheads that led the resistance. Nigel Shirazi and Sansar Enkh needed to be evacuated, but there hadn’t been enough transports in place. She’d talked to Lieutenant Commander Akoo—Hoot—the Buma who now commanded Pegasus. The only five ships which were in a position to rescue the Horsemen were the Egleesius-class ships, as they were the ones with hyperspace shunts.

  Elizabeth’s idea had been close to insane—dive the five battlecruisers deep into Earth’s atmosphere like burning meteors, to intercept as many merc dropships as possible. Her navigator ran it a dozen times as they fell toward the atmosphere. It went from bad to worse. Then, suddenly, navigational data had come from Pegasus. Exact detailed maneuvers, custom made for each of the other four other Egleesius ships.

  The navigational data was perfect, and it included slight adjustments so they could scoop up every single dropship in their path. Once clear and back out of the atmosphere, they’d used their shunts to escape into hyperspace. Of course, between the high-G maneuver through the atmosphere, friction damage to the hull, and weapons fire from ground units, they’d all been fairly chewed up, although most of the damage wasn’t extensive or critical—mostly just a who’s who of blown shield capacitors, degraded armor, and hull stresses. The latter was the biggest concern, hull over-stress was the
hardest thing to diagnose in hyperspace. The report detailed the progress of the repairs—what would be done before arrival in New Warsaw and what would require assistance after arrival.

  Elizabeth acknowledged the report without modification and sent it back to the DCC—damage control coordinator—for her to proceed. A small part of her mind thought of a certain someone back in New Warsaw, then pushed it aside.

  “They’re coming for us,” she said to the empty office. “They kicked our asses at Earth, and now they are coming to New Warsaw.” She didn’t know how she knew it; she just did. All the years in intelligence had given her some good instincts which were seldom wrong.

  The Cromwells had been worried about that, too. Ever since they’d found New Warsaw, they’d spent fortunes developing the system’s defenses against that day. Many people considered them paranoid. Now it looked like they weren’t all that paranoid after all; the day was coming.

  Elizabeth started entering orders for when they arrived in New Warsaw. Normally, when they got back the first thing that happened was injured crew were transferred to Prime Base, damage reports were transmitted to fleet command, and preparations were made to give the ship’s personnel a breather. This time things would be different.

  If their enemies were behind them, they’d have…what? A day at most? The enemy fleet which had appeared was huge, and it included what must have been a dreadnought. The Winged Hussars had prevailed against catastrophic odds dozens of times, but always with a Cromwell in command. This time they’d have to do it without her.

  She shook her head. It didn’t matter. The words of her hero came to her lips. “The Winged Hussars are nobody’s prey.”

  We’ll be ready for the bastards, Elizabeth thought. We’ll be ready.

  * * *

  Winged Hussars Prime Base, New Warsaw System

  Lieutenant Colonel Dan Walker slid into the pilot’s seat of the Avenger-class space bomber. Although he’d hated being left behind for the assault on Earth, he’d known they would need more combat-ready pilots after the battle, no matter what the outcome, and he was the best person to train them. He was more effective training pilots than being one. The SalSha could pull about fifteen more Gs than he could; he was a liability in battle, and he knew it. Although he knew it in his head, it didn’t make waiting for news any easier in his heart. His comrades, including the ones he’d fought with on Paradise—those few who’d survived—had all gone to Earth without him. He shrugged. Focus on the mission at hand. Flying with the SalSha demanded all his attention. You never knew when one would get an idea that would have to be squelched. Just because they could do a lot of cool things didn’t mean they actually should, especially in and around the port facilities.

  It tended to make the port officers…cranky.

  “I’m ready,” his copilot, a young SalSha named Treeg, said.

  Walker pulled out his engine start checklist and heard Treeg sigh. Walker had found the hardest part of training SalSha was getting them to accept that they needed to follow checklists so they didn’t forget anything. The entire concept of following set procedures was anathema to them, though, and the youngest ones had to be broken of the mindset of “I have that memorized; I don’t need the checklist.”

  Walker took a breath before reading off the first item, but a call came in on his comm, interrupting him.

  “Colonel Walker, Commander Kowalczy.”

  “Stand by,” Walker told his copilot. “I just got a comm from the system commander.”

  “Doesn’t she know we’re going flying?” Treeg asked. “Why is she bothering you now?”

  “I don’t know,” Walker replied. When he saw Treeg’s mouth open to ask another question—something Treeg did a lot—he added, “And I’ll find out what’s going on a lot sooner if you stop asking me questions so I can answer her. Why don’t you go through the mission in your head while I talk to her? And don’t touch anything!” Walker added when he saw Treeg reaching for the engine start button.

  Treeg pulled his hand back like he’d just touched something hot, and Walker shook his head. Gotta watch them all the time.

  “Commander Kowalczy, Colonel Walker. Be advised, I am in the cockpit of an Avenger and about to go for a flight. Is this important?”

  “Colonel Walker, yes, your flight has been aborted. Please come meet me in my office at your earliest opportunity.”

  “Sure thing. Can you tell me what this is all about?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t. Suffice it to say that it is extremely important, and I need to talk with you right now.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  * * *

  Walker climbed out of the Avenger and—after making sure Treeg got out and went back to the squadron’s ready room—hurried to Kowalczy’s office. It was located with all the other mid-grade officers’ offices in the middle of C-Ring, and far below what a system commander rated anywhere else in the galaxy.

  The Hussars had always been a little…different…that way.

  The door was open, so he walked in to find the younger officer working at her desk.

  “So,” he asked. “What’s so important you had to pull me from the cockpit to come down here?”

  Lieutenant Commander Kowalczy looked up and Walker could see her eyes were red and shiny, as if she’d been crying. “We lost.”

  “What’d we lose?” Walker asked. “If it’s important, I can have a couple Avengers out within an hour looking for it.”

  Kowalczy sniffed. “No. We lost—humanity lost. We failed to take back Earth.”

  Walker felt his jaw drop as he struggled for a response. “Shit.” It in no way encapsulated the enormity of his feelings, but it was all he was able to come up with. “Wait,” he said after a couple of seconds. “How do you know? There’s no way word could have gotten back here already. We won’t hear anything of at least another…what? Five days?”

  “Normally, we wouldn’t have, but I just had a visit from two of the Fae. They said one of them was a long-talker or far-talker—something like that. Anyway, they claimed they could talk to the Fae on Earth. They said the battle was over and we’d lost. They also—they also said…” she dropped her head onto her arms and began bawling.

  Walker watched for a few moments hoping the officer would get control of herself. When she didn’t, he stepped to her side of the desk, put his hands on her shoulders, and gently lifted her. “What?” he asked. “What else did they say?”

  “They said Colonel Cromwell was dead!”

  Shocked, Walker let go of Kowalczy, and she went back to crying into the crook of her arm. Several thoughts flashed through his head. Cromwell dead—who would lead the Hussars? They were integral to saving Earth…and if they’d just lost the battle for Earth, there was so much they’d have to do. They were on the run again…they were—

  “Did you hear me?” she asked, lifting her head again. “I said, she’s dead!”

  “Yes, I heard you,” Walker said. “It’s bad, and I’m sorry for your loss, but we’ll get through this. She’s not the first company commander to die in battle. I’m sure there’s a plan for succession, and we’ll just have to take the time to reconstitute our forces—”

  “But there is no time!” she exclaimed.

  “What do you mean?” Walker asked. “Of course, there’s time. As long as the Merc Guild doesn’t know where we are, there’s plenty of time to fix the things we need to.”

  “That’s just it, though,” Kowalczy said. She grabbed one of the three clocks near her and turned it to show to Walker. It was a countdown clock with 142 hours showing on it. “Our forces will be back when that time runs down. Sometime after that, the Merc Guild forces will arrive here. Not only did we lose the battle for Earth and not only was Colonel Cromwell killed, but the Merc Guild knows where this system is, and they’re coming to destroy us!”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Three

  Winged Hussars Prime Base, New Warsaw System

  Walker’s jaw
dropped for the second time in as many minutes. “They know where we are? How?”

  “I don’t know, but the Fae said that soon after our forces left Earth, the Merc Guild force followed them, and that they—the Merc Guild forces—were coming here.”

  “Are they sure? How do they know they’re coming here?” He paused and then another question came to him. “Wait. How do you know when our forces will be back? The Fae told you that, too? But our forces have been in hyperspace for over a day now! If the Fae knew about the loss, why didn’t they tell us sooner?”

  Kowalczy sniffed. “I don’t know,” she said. “I asked the same thing, and all they would say was they had ‘things to set in motion.’ They also said the extra day wouldn’t have made any difference.”

  “So, now the Fae are not only able to send messages across the galaxy, but they’re fortune tellers as well?” Walker let out a breath explosively. “Fuck.”

  Kowalczy nodded. “That’s about as far as I got, too.”

  Walker sighed and shook his head, then reached behind him, grabbed a chair, and pulled it over to her desk. He sighed again as he sat. He squared his shoulders and looked up at the system commander as he pulled out his slate. “Okay,” he said. “The Fae say the Merc Guild knows where this system is, and we need to begin planning for it. If they don’t actually have the coordinates, so much the better…but if they really do, we have to assume we have less than six days to make this system unconquerable. Let’s get started.”

  * * *

  São Paulo, Brazil, Earth

  “Second squad, move!” First Sergeant Akamai “Buddha” Kalawai barked into his radio, and the squad rose from concealment and moved across the avenue. It had taken over a day to get clear of what was once downtown São Paulo, and what was now a radioactive war-torn ruin.