Resolve of Steel (Halloran's War Book 2)

by J. R. Geoghan

  She grew serious. “As you wish, Lord.”

  “Now we flee. Our next steps are uncertain, and we must ascertain the extent of the uprising, but they have shown their hand. Now it will be our move.” He kissed her slowly and carefully, as if to reassure her that he retained control of himself.

  As she melted into his embrace, Sar'yana yearned to forget the visions the Sight had shown her of what lay ahead for them.

  Ryax stood behind Grysx, studying the star map over the ship commander’s shoulder.

  The older man half-turned, a look of mild annoyance passing across his features. “Can you read a system map, soldier?”

  “The concept is not completely foreign to me, Lord.”

  A grunt was the other’s answer. “Call me Grysx, soldier. I know who you are and what you did.”

  “It is my honor.”

  Another grunt, this time of humor. Grysx tapped the map. “Our options are limited.”

  “Meaning that we have no assurance of safe passage?”

  “Meaning that between Terxan and his son’s influence, we are severely hemmed in. So much so that I fear we won’t last long in Prax space with just two ships of the line.”

  “We need to jump.”

  “Agreed, but to where? The Premier has given me leave to make decisions for the high family. But the responsibility weighs heavy on me.”

  They studied the map for a while in silence, the sounds of the bridge crew behind them going about their routines fading into the background as they remained lost in their thoughts.

  Finally Grysx tapped the map, zooming it in on a system with a huge, old star. The Captain continued enlarging it until a solitary planet stood out on the screen.

  Ryax leaned in and read the label. “Garvin. Sounds human.”

  Grysx nodded. “Part of their early network of stations as they solidified their hold on the Earth—Coloran space lanes. Abandoned as being too far out of the way. We used the system as a marshaling point for our forces prior to the attack on the Struve system.”

  Ryax felt his hope rise. “Is it still abandoned?”

  Grysx shrugged. “Unknown. But it’s outside of Prax space. It could be a safe haven for a time.”

  “But what if the humans have retaken it? We’d be jumping into their arms with our Premier aboard.”

  The older Prax turned to him. “I share your concern. What would you have me do?”

  Ryax felt his warrior blood boil, remembering the Xu and the blood of his soldiers on the walls. “We fight back! Surely you have many allies and friends among the fleet, Lord?”

  Grysx nodded heavily. “I think I do, but we are cut off until I can communicate with them via jump drones, which will take time. And we do not know who has been compromised; I see treachery in every approaching ship now.” He lowered his face. “No, we must get the high family to safety first. I will give the order to jump.” He looked up at Ryax with the question in his eyes.

  Ryax nodded. “Time waits not for the weak.”

  “Time waits not for the weak.”

  Mars Command

  Kaela sat with hands resting on her lap, eyes front as the investigator read the last few lines of the initial findings report.

  “…And the clear dereliction of duty by the maintenance officer charged with oversight of the sensor array group—Luna, in addition to the low standard of records accountability within the Fleet Intelligence Group that led to the failure of senior leadership to uncover the above-noted nonfunctional equipment.” The young man sat the tablet he was reading from down.

  Admiral Doren of the Mars staff group leaned forward in his seat at the head table. “And your recommendation?”

  The investigator looked uncomfortable. “It’s in our report, sir.”

  “I’d like you to read it aloud, son.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kaela slid her eyes to Senior Commander Krug as he sat against the far wall of the tribunal hall, arms crossed and head down as though he was asleep. Her fellow conspirator hadn’t moved a muscle in the past hour as she’d been grilled for executing his orders.

  The sensors on the Earth moon had indeed been strategically damaged—by a co-opted junior officer in her group. He’d done a good enough job of making it look like a maintenance failure that this investigation team hadn’t picked up on it. Yet. And there was more damage done elsewhere, closer to Mars itself.

  The investigator picked up his tablet again and cleared his throat slightly. Kaela knew that he was uncomfortable skewering Admiral Kendall’s daughter in front of the man himself, who sat to Kaela’s left in stoic silence. Other than direct responses to a few questions regarding Kaela’s scope of responsibilities, he’d remained aloof from the questions that had flown in the tribunal chamber today. Probably still pining away for his precious Kendra.

  “This board of investigation recommends that, based on the clear concerns outlined, Commander Kaela be suspended from active duty in her current leadership capacity until such time as a formal tribunal can be convened. Lieutenant Chowen of the Lunar Maintenance detail should be remanded for suspension until such time as a formal tribunal can be convened.” The man cleared his throat again and fell silent.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant.” Doren seemed smugly satisfied; Kaela knew that the older man was a rival of father’s.

  The room was oddly silent for a moment, as if the assembled officers were pondering what had just happened. Then, people began to rise from their seats.

  “I’m not going to relieve you,” Kendall said softly at her side.

  “As you wish, sir.” As she stood, she smoothed her jacket.

  “But, I want someone alongside you as an observer. A junior officer who can liaison between myself and your department.”

  Kaela stopped and looked at him. “Either you’re relieving me or you’re not, sir.”

  Kendall ignored her and motioned to Satra, who was there. “The name?”

  “Alician, sir. Newly promoted Lieutenant.”

  Kendall nodded. “You remember Alician, Kaela? She was with Kendra for years. The Lieutenant was assigned to your group after the Carillion…incident.”

  Kaela did indeed remember the short, stocky woman. She’d been aware of the reassignment but had taken little notice of her with all the focus of recent days. She grunted. “If you insist, sir.”

  Satra and Kendall exchanged looks. “I’ll have her briefed on her responsibility. Kaela, I’m not sure what’s gotten into you, but this is not the time to lose sight of what we’re fighting for.” Kendall waved Satra off and leaned in to his daughter. “I’ve always been there for you.”

  She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, looking for Krug. But the man had disappeared from his spot against the wall.

  “When you and your sister took different paths in the Fleet, I did my best to help each of you—.”

  “Father, please. Kendra is the war hero…”

  “—When you were in a hard place. You forget, Kendra almost died from her wounds at Struve Six; and neither you nor I were there to comfort her. But I helped her get back on her feet afterward.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “You’re about to go through a hard time, Kaela. Let me help.”

  Kaela nodded. It wouldn’t do to antagonize the Admiral.

  He dropped his hand. “But you’re in trouble here. The board will reconvene. Doren is concerned, and rightly so, about Mars security. There are tens of thousands of humans on the planet. I need you back one hundred percent, Commander.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll make sure that things are in order.”

  Kendall turned, then turned back. “Two things; get Luna back on line. I’ve got a bad feeling about the Prax making a move. We need all eyes and ears open.”

  “And the other?”

  “I want any outbound communications to Fleet units under my jurisdiction run through my office first. No more ‘assumptive orders’ such as Krug’s.”

  Krug had interposed an order under Kendall’s name to the Val
or for them to destroy the alien vessel carrying that Prax defector. Despite Kaela’s misgivings about the possibility that Kendra was also on that ship, she’d passed the order on without hesitation. The gamble seemed to have paid off, for the mystery ship hadn’t surfaced again. But Kendra may well be dead at her hands.

  As she left the chamber she avoided going to the Intelligence Center, but instead went to a nearby food station for a hot drink. As she cradled the steaming beverage and stood before a viewport displaying the typical dreary red Mars terrain she asked herself if her own bravery for humanity would ever be recognized as Kendra’s had been after that battle. It was true that her sister had been grievously wounded and needed a month in medical rehab. But what Kaela was doing would affect the human race as a whole.

  Krug. She frowned. The disgusting man’s motivations for spying on behalf of the Prax were his own. But ever since he’d lured her in to his web of traitors, Kaela had seen the opportunity within. By facilitating the Prax destruction of Mars, she would free humanity from their obsession with the “mother planet” and ensure the ascension of Coloran as the true homeworld of humanity’s future. And by being the one to alert them to the Prax attack once the alien victory was assured, she’d earn the laurels so annoyingly bestowed upon her sister.

  The time was near. Krug had made mention that the Prax were readying their new weapons and were working on a timetable that could be measured in days—weeks at most.

  The notion that she was betraying the trust of her family and the Fleet nagged at Kaela, but as she always did, she brushed it away. No, the galaxy will see that I was a hero. That I saved humanity from itself in its darkest hour.

  Kaela’s comm unit buzzed. It was that woman Alician, no doubt looking for her new charge. An annoying wrinkle, but not insurmountable. Things were beginning to move swiftly to their conclusion, and neither Alician nor Kendall or Doren could stop them. Krug’s and Kaela’s plans were in place.

  She dropped the drink in a waste recycler. Just like I’ll do with Krug when the time comes, she mused. The pig will share none of my glory.

  Chapter 21

  Prax Sol System Center, Earth

  Xylan disembarked and immediately felt the heat wash over him. It felt wonderful. For all his time in the Sol system, he’d only set foot on Earth twice. The atmosphere was oppressively thick, however, and he took a shallower breath to compensate. Better.

  His aide, Commander Third-Rank Hrodax, accepted the Admiral’s tablet from the shuttle pilot and tucked it under his arm. “The temperature is agreeable, Lord.”

  “It is.” Xylan moved off toward the entry into the Center. His practiced eye ran over the various types of ships standing in the massive bay as well as the attending crews moving back and forth between them.

  Hrodax kept with his Admiral’s quick pace, but said nothing until they entered the passage, leaving the heat behind. “Communication between us and our fleet may be intercepted within this facility, Lord. Or dampened.”

  “Yes, I understand,” Xylan answered. “We shall see very shortly if this is a problem for us. Keep that transponder ready.”

  Three armed guards awaited them at the far end of the passage. “Admiral Xylan, come with us,” one announced overly officiously. Attempting to intimidate the elderly man.

  Xylan eyed the Prax closely. “How old are you, son?”

  “Lord?” The man held himself stiffly, suddenly wary of the officer. Xylan noticed his eyes shift slightly. Trying to see if he’s being watched somehow, he thought. “You are to come—.”

  “I only ask,” Xylan interrupted, “because I am not accustomed to being addressed in such a direct tone, with seeming disregard for my rank.”

  Their eyes held until the younger man relented. “My Lord,” he continued with a now-bowed head. “Please come with us.”

  Good. Xylan saw the other two staring with awe at how the old Admiral had cowed the bully. When—if—the time came to seek allies, these three might do. He waved a hand. “You may escort my aide and I.”

  With a last glance of uncertainty as to what he’d done to himself, the guard moved off to lead. The other two fell in behind Xylan and Hrodax, who now walked side by side.

  “I am glad of your company, Hrodax,” Xylan said conversationally.

  After a moment Hrodax replied, “The honor to be at your side in this hour is almost too much to bear, Lord.”

  The Admiral nodded. “Let us hope we live beyond it, that we may celebrate our good fortune.”

  They fell into a tense silence until the lead guard approached the heavy blast door that denoted the entrance into the core of the Center. Xylan had been in two other Centers installed on conquered planets, and the basic layout was the same. The facility was massive, larger than his biggest fleet vessel in sheer cubic volume. Level upon level, half of it excavated from the planet’s crust, with the core beneath tapped for its thermal energy to power the base. An entire occupying army was stationed within, with every conceivable department of support needed to subjugate and police an entire planet for a generation. In fact, the soldiers and support staff housed within a Center typically spent a lifetime, a career, in the same star system. Sol Center was no different, even complete with the dictatorial ruler of a Prime.

  He looked up at the high overhead ceiling as the guard addressed the Prax standing at the entrance in soft tones. Except this Prime is committing treason.

  The first guard stepped up. “Lord, the Prime awaits you in his chamber.”

  Xylan nodded. “Are you a Prax of your duty?”

  The guard stiffened. “Lord.”

  The Admiral pressed, leaning toward the bully. “Now and always?”

  “Always, Lord,” the Prax protested.

  “Good.” Xylan clasped his hands behind his back. “Lead on, and remember your duty.”

  The group passed into the core and turned into a wide, short passage that led to a closed door. As they approached it it opened for them and they passed in. The Prax who had opened the door ordered the guards to stay outside until needed.

  Xylan glanced at the Prax as they passed him, seeing a senior commander in the Prime’s ground forces on Earth.

  “Admiral Xylan, so good of you to come on short notice.”

  The Prime was in his chair, pointedly failing to rise in greeting for the officer many years his senior. Despite the near-godlike authority granted a Prime in prosecuting his reign over a conquered system, the traditions of the Prax weighed heavily in favor of deference to older officers of rank. As Xylan approached the Prime’s seat he noted Hrodax moving to stand next to the ground officer.

  He stopped close. “It is my duty to respond when my Prime summons me.”

  The Prime tapped his steepled fingers together, not looking up at Xylan. “Ah, your duty. To me.” He suddenly placed his hands on the arms of his chair and stood up, looking at Xylan intently before turning away and stepping off a few paces. “Admiral, you are nothing if not a loyal Prax. In fact, your personal association with the high family is well known.” He turned around to face Xylan. “Does your allegiance—and that of your fleet—belong to the Premiership first?”

  As the senior commander of all Prax warships in the Sol system, Xylan’s authority was unquestioned. But he understood the game the Prime was playing. He’d seen it before. “My allegiance is to the rightful leadership of the empire, always.”

  The younger Prax had had enough of the cat and mouse already. He drew himself up and announced, “I have been chosen as the new Premier, Admiral.”

  When the revelation failed to make the hoped-for impression on the impassive officer, the Prime wagged a finger at him. “Your ‘high family’ has descended into treachery and abandonment of the empire, Xylan. The time for new leadership is here.”

  Xylan made to turn slowly, hands before him, as if to consider young Talxen’s words. But his eye was for Hrodax standing beside the other officer. The nod was so slight as to be missed by the others but his aide closed
his own lids in acknowledgment. Xylan then walked to the Prime’s desk and placed a hand upon the smooth surface, as if appraising it.

  “Say something!” the Prime burst out.

  He let him wait another moment before answering, never looking up. “I find the sudden change of command and the odious charges leveled against a most honorable family repugnant,” he said softly but clearly. “I have lived a long time, Talxen—.”

  He felt the younger man step close to him. “You shall address me as Lord!”

  When the outburst had dissipated from the room Xylan ran his hand along the surface. “The house of Terxan is known to me.” He chuckled to himself, remembering with a small smile. “Once I caught him fleeing from battle in his “flagship.” My vessel’s superior armament convinced him to re-engage the enemy.”

  The Prime grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him against the desk, causing him to stumble and go to one knee beside it. He caught sight of Hrodax lunging forward, as if in slow-motion. Equally slow was the arm of the other officer coming up behind the aide, pistol in hand. The plasma bolt passed through Hrodax’s head, blowing the body forward and into the desk beside Xylan. Gore splattered the Admiral as he grasped at the now-slippery desk surface to right himself. The body slumped into him and knocked him to the decking.

  As Xylan gently pushed the body to one side he collected himself, thinking. Through the red mist he’d seen Talxen gloating, clearly exuberant. The Prime was past saving—that had just been proven beyond a doubt. Xylan’s hands reached into the waist pocket of the body of his loyal aide to confirm the transponders activation; yes, there was the light blinking. His warning had been sent.

  “On your feet, Admiral.” Talxen was standing over him, fists balled and spoiling for a fight in the presence of blood.

  Xylan regained his footing and glanced down—the uniform was a mess. Hrodax will be remembered with honor, he noted deep in his active memory.

  The door was open and the three guards were inside the office, weapons up. The officer’s gun was in Xylans face. Everyone was looking extremely tense.