“Anyway, the new guy tells the first guy to ‘take the test’ in no uncertain terms.”
“What test?” she asked, and he sighed with exasperation.
“The only test that matters,” he explained with weary patience. “The one with the bar.”
“Oh.” Livvie subsided and picked up the first part to appear from under the console.
Piedmont worked methodically as he related the tale. “Anyway, the first guy says he’d rather suck vacuum than take the Witch’s test, and the next thing I know, this ice-cold voice tells him it could be arranged.”
He shivered and passed out another part.
“Anyway, that’s when I pull myself out from under the console and look around. As well as the forward screen being on, there’s this big sparkling blue hole in the middle of the command deck and it matches the one I see on the screen, except nothing comes out of the one on my end. Only her Dreth and two cats going in.”
The chief handed Livvie another part and vanished back under the console.
After a moment filled with the clank and rattle of tools, Piedmont started to talk again.
“I tell you, the Morgana is terrifying when she’s mad. She stepped out of that portal and marched down the corridor we could see, and the picture flicked to follow her.”
Another part appeared, and Livvie realized she hadn’t started on the one before it. With a guilty start, she picked it up and inspected it carefully.
“She was covered in lightning. I’d heard of it, but never seen it. Not until then.” Piedmont’s voice was hushed and then hardened. “And that admiral refused to take the test.”
The older tech snorted. “I still remember what you said.” He laughed, and his boss’ face emerged from under the console a little flushed. She didn’t think it had anything to do with the effort expended in his task, though. “Yeah, well, I was young, then,” he demurred, “and luckily, she didn’t hear me. Anyway, the Morgana stoops in low, puts her face close to his, and asks him if he’s ready to suck vacuum like he said.”
“The look on his face.” The other man chuckled. “I thought he was gonna need another pair of trousers.”
Piedmont gave a short laugh. “He very nearly did. His expression was priceless! I’ll never forget it. I thought the man would have a heart attack.”
“What did he do?” Livvie asked.
“He tried to resign,” the chief told her, “and the Morgana wouldn’t let him. I swear, I’ve never heard a woman’s voice hit that low a note.” He shuddered. “And I never want to hear it again. It was ice and…like space had spoken if space was a human girl with magic like the gods themselves haven’t seen.”
He glanced around. “No offense to the gods,” he added hastily, “but the Morgana’s eyes were like fire, and when she floated the bar out of the Marine captain’s hands…”
The other technician laughed. “Oh, yes. I swear that’s the only time I’ve ever seen Sartre look surprised, but he only cursed quietly when the bar he held lifted out of his hands and floated to the admiral. I’ve never seen the like.”
Piedmont shook his head. “Me neither. And when it wriggled into the guy’s hands so he had to hold it…” He shook his head. “That was a sight to behold. The way it was covered in lightning, there was no way in Hades I’d have wanted to touch it.”
“And then she ordered him to look at her,” the other man added.
The chief sobered. “That was something, wasn’t it? They’d got the angle on the surveillance cams absolutely perfect and the Knight made sure we all had a good look at him.”
The older tech tensed. “I never want anyone to look at me the way he looked at her. She’d done nothing to deserve that.”
Piedmont’s voice softened and took on an angry edge. “No, she hadn’t. All she wanted was to protect her people, and he—”
His fist clenched, and he pulled himself under the console again. Metal clanged against metal and Livvie winced. She looked at her teammate, and to her surprise, he was angry too.
He caught her gaze and shook himself as if that was enough to rid himself of the memory. “Some things are hard to remember without getting angry. She challenged him to prove himself an ally, and all he did was prove he wasn’t while she’d gone all out to protect us and then to protect our world.”
For a moment, sadness etched his features, and he indicated the small pile of components that had gathered while they talked. “We have to make sure Tempe is ready for the very worst the universe can throw at us.”
They returned to work but Livvie’s mind constantly returned to the old-timers’ story. Had the Morgana honestly done all that? And was she truly coming back?
She did her best to make sure every part was better when she returned it than when it had been passed to her. When they’d finished with the consoles, they worked around the control room and checked the nodes and terminals and even the emergency and crew seating.
If the Morgana led them into battle, they wanted nothing left to chance. Piedmont gave the captain a nod as they left and headed to the first data center.
As far as Livvie could tell, there wasn’t anything wrong with that either, but they still went over it like they were searching for a particularly elusive malfunction. They were about halfway through when the intercom crackled.
“All crew, all crew, all crew,” Emil began, “this is your captain speaking. It is with pride and pleasure I am now able to share this information with you.”
She glanced to where Piedmont’s legs protruded from a wall panel. At the captain’s words, he extracted himself and turned to face the nearest vid screen. She and the rest of the team did the same and moved to stand together as the broadcast began.
“This ship is departing shortly for an unknown area of space, completely outside the normal mapped systems.” He paused to let the information sink in. “Once there, we will pick up a VIP vessel.”
Again, he paused, and his eyes seemed to scan them through the screen.
“We will bring that vessel back to Federated space. For those of you who’ve been waiting as long as I have, I’m sure you’ve guessed, but for now, I’ll simply admit what I can.”
Livvie heard Piedmont’s sharp intake of breath and glanced at him. He stood, tense with anticipation, and a quick look revealed the other old-timers did the same.
The captain continued, “She’s back. She’s pissed. And she will not stop until the Regime is finished. I am going for rejuvenation treatments over the next couple of weeks and these are now open to all crew.”
Again, his gaze swept over them.
“If any of you wish to take me up on the offer, talk to the OIC of your division. I suspect we are done hiding in the deep and dark and that life is about to get dangerous to a degree the likes of which many of you have never seen. Out.”
“Morgana!” Piedmont’s shout of jubilation was repeated throughout the ship. It was accompanied by cries of “Stephanie!”
Livvie stared. It was the most vocal she’d ever seen him or any of the others, and she didn’t know what to make of this new dimension to the teammates she thought she knew well. While she was still considering it, the older technician turned and seized her shoulders in both hands.
“I told you!” he exclaimed, released her, and returned to the task the captain’s broadcast had interrupted. He was smiling, and his eyes twinkled with mischief. Catching her bemused look, he signaled that she should get back to work too.
“The Witch is back!”
Chapter Eleven
Movement had begun on Dreth. Ships maneuvered into the orbital and out again. Some of them took a turn around the moon and sent shuttles to the lunar base. Others took position over different spaceports and waited.
One shuttle descended to a remote mountain plateau. Maneuvering was difficult, and only a skilled manipulation of engines and retro thrusters brought it in to land safely.
“Is this the location?” the pilot asked as he studied the stone door set int
o the mountainside. He turned his gaze to their surroundings but saw nothing more than mountain grass and stone.
“It’s where we were told to go,” his partner said.
The door opened and closed and darkness swept toward them.
“You’d better hope this is the place,” the co-pilot added as their passengers knocked at the hatch.
There were four of them. “For Dreth,” they told the pilots in sibilant tones, “we will fight to the last. This is now our home too.”
The shuttle lifted and barely cleared the mountain as a vicious crosswind battered its hull.
It was a scene repeated the world over, and the shuttles gave the impression another meteor swarm was passing.
On the ground, troops gathered at training centers and messages went out to remote Family outposts. Clan leaders met in secret, their vessels moving swiftly and by night despite the risk that entailed.
Well-shielded communications bounced across the planet and warriors followed in their wake. Clans pledged troops and assistance and jockeyed for advantage at the merest hint of war.
“Clan Hachtech requests the chance to prove its loyalty.”
“Granted. This is Hachtech’s last chance before dissolution.”
“Gravach answers.”
“Karnach stands for Dreth. Unity is all.”
“Talach and Vashjak come.”
“K’leth stands ready!”
Excitement tremored through the warlords, chieftains, and family heads. Honor would be avenged and more honor would be gained. The faces of those who knew some of what was afoot took on a stern and savage edge.
The hallways of the Dreth Coalition Council remained deceptively quiet, save for the complaints raging in one of the private chambers where representatives from Clans Endrageth and Echgrech had met.
“They are moving the troops,” Kalgeth snapped and pounded a fist into the stone tabletop.
He was disappointed when it didn’t break, but that was irrelevant. The force had made Narach jump, and his fellow Dreth and councilor scowled as a result.
“They can’t be. I would know,” he protested. “House Karnach would have had to pass it through the Coalition.”
Kalgeth shook his head. “Not necessarily. She is the admiral of the Coalition Fleet. If she orders troops to move, they move, regardless of what her house or its coalition might think. She wouldn’t have to gain anyone’s approval.”
“What of the Coalition Council?” Narach demanded. “Surely she would have had to ask their permission.”
“Well, yes,” Kalgeth conceded, “but we would have had to be in attendance, and a full council has yet to be called.”
“Are you sure? What if she chose only to contact the Inner Circle?”
“The Inner Circle?” His colleague looked alarmed. “But there hasn’t been one of those in years. We did not even hold one during the Teloran War. Why would she call one now?”
“Because she has learned some caution over the years?” Narach suggested slyly. “She cannot have been totally blind to the inner-clan politics, either during that war or in the years since.”
“Still,” Kalgeth thundered, “how can she keep us blind?”
“Do you think she suspects?”
The other councilor shrugged. “If she does, it can only be suspicion. If she had proof, she’d have moved already.”
Narach nodded. This much was true. The new Dreth Coalition Admiral was known for her swift action and lack of mercy when it came to anyone acting for interests other than Dreth. What she’d think of their alliances, he didn’t want to know—and prayed he’d never find out.
“Regardless,” he said, “we should know! We are war leaders in our clans. Military matters are ours by right.”
“This is true,” Kalgeth agreed and moved to the door, “but we both have places to be and other matters to attend to. Shall we?”
He nodded, willing to tolerate his position as the junior in this partnership given the rewards his comrade promised.
They stepped into the corridor outside, relieved to find it empty despite the soundproofing inside the room. Even their clans did not know about some matters they’d discussed—and would not until they could not disassociate from them.
It would seal their places as leaders if their plans had time to mature.
The rumble of another shuttle overhead drew their attention and they tracked its passing, the sound clearly audible through the solid roof.
"Another one for the base,” Kalgeth grumbled.
“And neither of us are any the wiser.” Narach checked his tablet and found no notification. His fist closed reflexively and the device cracked. “We should have been told.”
The sound of footsteps reached them at the same time and they glanced up as a solitary female Dreth moved briskly along the corridor. She looked like she had places to be—or perhaps an urgent message to run.
“Do you think she is here for us?” he asked, nudged his companion, and lowered his voice.
“I don’t see why we shouldn’t stop her and find out,” Kalgeth replied. “After all, we are on a high-security alert.”
“And we are war leaders,” Narach reminded him.
“She has a guard,” the other councilor observed.
“Every runner should,” he responded and they continued down the corridor, moving side by side so they blocked the middle of it.
Ahead of them, the guard moved in front of the female and the two councilors exchanged glances. Who was he to think he could challenge war leaders?
They strode confidently forward and covered the intervening distance in several long strides. As they approached, the security guard came to a halt and positioned himself between the two councilors and the female.
Recognizing his colors as those of House Karnach, Kalgeth stepped forward.
“We demand an audience with your masters,” he blustered, and the man looked at him but did not answer.
Goaded by his silence, Narach added, “We are warlords in clans Echgrech and Endrageth, members of the High Mountains Coalition and allies of the Coalition Admiral. We have a right to know what is going on.”
The guard looked from one to the other. “I am afraid that what you ask is beyond my power to bring about,” he told them and watched as both councilors stiffened with offense.
“You cannot refuse us,” Kalgeth insisted and his voice echoed down the corridor.
“It is forbidden,” Narach agreed. “A guard does not refuse a war leader, regardless of what clan they serve.”
He stared at them, and his face became as impassive as stone. Kalgeth was about to demand he step aside when the female cleared her throat.
“Gralog, if you please.”
The guard stepped aside, and she deliberately moved into one of the dimmed glows illuminating the corridor. Narach’s blood drained from his face when he saw who it was, and even Kalgeth backed away a step.
“I believe you wished for an audience,” the Coalition Admiral stated she drew herself stiffly to her full height, “and that you were willing to break protocol to achieve it?”
Narach swallowed hard and his fellow councilor cleared his throat.
“We are war leaders in Clans Echgrech and Endrageth,” he began.
“War leaders and not lords?” Jaleck asked and sounded mildly amused. Both Dreth snapped their mouths shut. When the admiral sounded amused, she generally wasn’t. They’d heard the stories, but still, they couldn’t accept things the way they were.
“Yes, and we demand—” Kalgeth began, but his protest was stopped by a fist in his chest.
He dropped to his knees and gasped for breath as Jaleck backhanded Narach across the side of the head and followed it with a kick that lifted the Echgrech war leader into the wall.
His armor rattled as he landed but the admiral ignored him. She returned her attention to Kalgeth, lifted him by the collar, and punched him twice in the gut before she tossed him onto his fellow conspirator.
The Echgrech war leader grunted as the air was forced from his lungs, and both councilors drew back as Jaleck stalked closer and bent to look at them.
“You two have no idea what is about to happen, and I wouldn’t trust either of you with a family recipe.” Her tone emerged as a snarl and they recoiled.
Both could hear her security guard speaking softly into his comms, although they couldn’t make his words out. Kalgeth flinched and slid his hands under him so he could shift off his colleague. Jaleck swept that support away and he fell back. Narach froze.
“And since you both want to know so badly, you have now been entrusted with information that requires you to be separated.” She smiled. “Welcome to your new roles.” She straightened and turned to her security guard. “Gralog.”
He stiffened to attention. “Place them in a safe place where no one can talk to them so that we may share these secrets.”
She cast a jaundiced eye at where the two councilors attempted to carefully untangle themselves.
“With secrets come security measures,” she told them as the rapid tattoo of boots signaled the arrival of her security team.
“Take them,” she ordered and pivoted to continue her journey. Gralog stayed long enough to issue orders before he joined her again.
Groans signaled when the councilors were dragged to their feet, and she allowed herself a secretive smile.
“That’s two less,” she stated, and the Dreth beside her shared her satisfied smile.
The walls shook with the sound of powerful engines above. In the basement room, two men looked up as a patina of grey dust rained from the ceiling. They turned their heads quickly and exchanged glances.
Speculation and excitement shone in their eyes.
“There goes another one,” one observed.
“I hear it.”
“It’s the third in the last half hour,” the first man pressed, “and those are transport engines.”
“I know.” The other man pushed his chair back. “It’s time to see what our giant friends are up to.”
“Yeah. It’s not like they know much about sneaking around.” His partner snorted disdainfully.
Michael Anderle - [Heretic of the Federation 03] Page 17
