The Valiant (Star Legend Book 1)

by J. J. Green

  The corporal glared at him, but then appeared to rein in her anger. “What if... what if we forget about the impossibility of Arthur surviving so long in those conditions? Why did we go there to rescue him?”

  “We were responding to a distress call.” Wright began to grow uncomfortable.

  “Where did the signal come from? Did you ever find a transmitter?”

  “No...”

  She had a point. The absence of a transmitter, and the missing device’s ability to transmit through solid rock had always bothered him, but he didn’t want to encourage her in her delusion. “There was no time to look for the signal origin. EAC troops were closing in. It would have been dangerous and a waste of time to hang around trying to find it.” He chose not to mention that the signal had disappeared as soon as they’d broken into the cave.

  “Who do you think sent it?” Ellis asked.

  “I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. Has it occurred to you it might have been a coincidence that we happened to find him there? The signal could have been a glitch. We mounted a rescue and happened to stumble across someone in need of rescuing, but the two things might not be connected.”

  “He just happened to be there?! Halfway up a mountainside in a mostly uninhabited wilderness? With EAC troops nearby?”

  That fact had puzzled him too. Why had the EAC military been so close at hand? They’d arrived so soon after the Daisy had touched down, they must have been in the vicinity. What had they been doing there?

  “Coincidences happen,” he retorted, though he knew his words had begun to sound hollow. “Just because things seem to be linked, doesn’t mean they are.”

  “And sometimes they are connected, but people refuse to acknowledge the truth that’s staring them in the face!”

  “That’s enough, corporal!” He rose to his feet. “Your story is ridiculous, and I have doubts about your mental stability. You’re to report to sick bay for a psychological evaluation this afternoon.”

  “I don’t need a psychological evaluation. Why can’t you admit I could be right?”

  He strode to the door.

  “Can’t you see how it all makes sense?” continued Ellis, following on his heels. “The EAC have taken over the Britannic Isles. We’re losing our territories, and we’re about to lose the space war.”

  The door opened, and Wright stepped out into the passageway.

  “The BA is going to be wiped from existence!” yelled the corporal. “In our hour of need, he will return!”

  The door slid closed, cutting off the rest of her ravings.

  As he walked away, preparing to comm sick bay about Ellis’s probable mental illness, he debated the wisdom of leaving her alone with the man, Arthur. But in her fantasy he was some kind of savior king, so he doubted she would hurt him.

  It was time to get back to his regular duties. If Corporal Ellis had been wrong about everything else, she was right that the BA was in a bad way. If it was to survive, they would have to pull out all the stops.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The next step in Hans’s plan had to be undertaken with utmost care. It was best if the idea didn’t appear to come from him. The military leaders had to imagine they’d thought of it themselves, or they would never go through with it.

  Not because his plan was bad—far from it. It was the obvious solution to the BA’s troubles, in the short term, anyway. But the people he had to sway were a bunch of arrogant, bone-headed, stubborn vestiges of the days of Empire. They would automatically reject the proposal of a foreigner, someone who didn’t belong to their club, who hadn’t been to the right schools, and who had no friends or associates within the elite.

  It was a problem Hans had faced again and again as he’d risen through the ranks of SIS. If it hadn’t been for the recordings he held of prominent figures committing compromising acts, he would never have been chosen to lead the organization.

  His office door opened, and his new personal assistant entered, bringing his coffee.

  “Mariya, good morning. How are you today?”

  “Very well, thank you, Mr Jonte. And I see you seem to be recovering well from your injuries.”

  “I am, thanks to that excellent home nurse you found me.”

  “It’s my pleasure, sir. I know Josie would have wanted me to do my best to help you.”

  “I’m sure she would. Mariya, I was wondering, do you have a dress suitable to wear to a black tie event?”

  She placed the cup and saucer on his desk. “You mean an evening dress?”

  “Yes. Something expensive and flattering. If you haven’t, speak up. You can get one today. I want you to accompany me to the Officers’ Ball.”

  “I’d be honored, Mr Jonte. Thank you.”

  “There’s no need to be grateful. You’ll be working. I have a few tasks to complete tonight, and you can help me.”

  “In that case...I’ll put a dress on the department’s tab, and I’ll need two hours this afternoon to go shopping.”

  “Ha! As you wish.”

  He smiled wryly as she left. Mariya was turning out to be quite different from her twin. She was equally resourceful, but much more up front. As the days had passed, she’d relaxed into her role and revealed more of her true personality. He liked her feistiness.

  But he didn’t have time to waste musing about his new assistant. He had people to butter up. He opened the screen in his desk and looked up the first person on his list.

  The comm went through, and a face appeared.

  “Hans, long time no see. Great to hear from you.”

  He settled into his seat and picked up his coffee. He was in his element. Today was going to be a good day.

  AT EIGHT-THIRTY PM that evening, when he arrived with Mariya at the Caribbean Ambassador’s Residence, the party had only just begun. He was a little early to be truly de rigueur. In fact, his timing could have been perceived as gauche, but, confident that no matter what he did he would never be accepted into Society’s circles, he’d long since given up trying.

  He could still cut a fine dash, however, and with Mariya on his arm he was certain of doing that tonight.

  As she’d stepped from the lobby of her apartment block to join him in the limousine, her appearance had taken his breath away. He had no interest in romantic dalliances; he’d married himself to his cause many years ago, but, for a brief moment, his resolve had been shaken.

  His assistant had spent her two hours of shopping and the department’s budget well. Her dress was sleeveless, gossamer-thin and shimmering soft gold, and hung from her shoulders to her feet. She had dressed her hair as a perfect complement, weaving golden threads through it and studding it with white jewels. And, as she crossed the sidewalk to the car, she carried herself like a duchess.

  Who would have known plain old Josephine’s identical twin could have scrubbed up so well?

  When she’d climbed in—most elegantly—he’d been delighted to smell a whiff of a delicious fragrance. Mariya really was a woman after his own heart. If only his heart were not already taken.

  “Here we are,” said Hans, turning to her as the limousine pulled up outside the ambassador’s palatial residence. “You remember what you have to do?”

  “Of course, Mr Jonte.”

  “Good. But...enjoy yourself too. That’s what these events are about. Fun and shenanigans.” He tapped his nose. “Let’s go.” He nodded to the chauffeur, who got out of the limo and opened the door on Mariya’s side.

  Hans waited for the chauffeur to open his door, then joined his assistant on the sidewalk. The night air was warm and humid and the sky was cloudless. On the fringes of the Islands, the battle against their enemies continued, but for now and in this place, all was calm and safe.

  Together, they climbed the steps to the entrance.

  A small group of ushers waited just inside the open doors, clad in red and gold uniforms. The entrance hall floor of checkerboard tiles was polished to a fine sheen, and marble columns rose to a
ceiling exquisitely decorated in bas relief. Paintings of previous ambassadors hung on the walls, spaced at regular intervals. The oldest ones dated back hundreds of years.

  Hans prided himself on his appreciation of taste, and he could find nothing objectionable about the scene. Everything was exactly as it should be. He breathed in deeply. Whoever was responsible for organizing the occasion had even arranged for a faint, sweet, lemon scent to imbue the air. He could also smell wine, punch, and a slight savory odor—probably hors d’oeuvres.

  An usher was approaching them. Hans lifted and bent his elbow, and Mariya delicately rested her hand upon it. They walked with the usher through to the central ballroom.

  As he’d predicted, the place was somewhat sparse in guests, due to the early hour, but both Hennessy, Chief of Defense Staff, and First Sea Lord Montague, had arrived. The men were too old and well-connected to concern themselves with timing etiquette. They probably wanted to get their fill of alcohol, fine food, and idle chatter before they grew too tired and needed a nap.

  Both men were standing near the punch bowl, looking resplendent in their dress uniforms, chatting. Hans led Mariya over to them.

  They didn’t look particularly pleased to see Hans, but the sight of his assistant awakened interest in their wrinkled faces and rheumy eyes.

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” Hans said. “May I introduce a vital member of my staff?”

  “Charmed, I’m sure,” said Hennessy. “And who might you be?”

  After Mariya gave them her name, Hans introduced Hennessy and Montague by their full titles, which apparently gratified them enormously.

  “Any news from the fleet?” Hans asked Montague. “It was such a shame the attack failed.”

  Hennessy coughed and Montague’s cheeks flushed a deeper-than-usual pink.

  “Damned shame,” the Sea Lord muttered, “but we were up against some type of new weapon. Never known anything like it. I’d appreciate your help, Jonte, with finding out what the hell it was that took the Fearless.”

  “My best officers are trying to find out what they can.” said Hans. As he understood it, the attack had already been going to pieces before the flagship was destroyed. Somehow, the EAC and AP had gotten wind of the plan and were waiting for the BA ships. But it wasn’t the right time to mention it. “As soon as I hear anything, I’ll pass it on immediately. You have my word.”

  “I’d be obliged,” Montague replied. “We have a strategy meeting in the morning. It’s been a rough year, but I have every hope we’ll meet the new challenges that face us.”

  “So you’re working for Jonte, eh?” Hennessy asked Mariya.

  “Yes, but I’m new. I’ve only been with SIS a short while.”

  “Ah, new and innocent!” Montague exclaimed. “You must tell us all his secrets.”

  Mariya replied, “I’m sure I don’t know anything important.”

  “You won’t pull the wool over our eyes so easily, young lady,” Hennessy retorted. “Jonte’s office only deals with highly sensitive intel.”

  “Even so...” protested Mariya.

  “Don’t worry, dear, we’re only pulling your leg,” said Montague. “We know you won’t give anything away. Jonte wouldn’t have you working for him if you weren’t tighter than a drum. You can leave her with us,” he said to Hans. “We’ll look after her.”

  “But we’ve only just arrived,” Hans protested. “There are plenty more people I’d like Mariya to meet.”

  “We can introduce her to everyone,” replied Hennessy. “Go and mingle, Jonte, mingle! We all know that’s what you love doing best.”

  “Mariya?”

  “I’ll be fine, sir. I’m looking forward to hearing some military exploits.”

  “Ha!” said Hennessy, “if you love old soldiers’ stories—”

  “Old sailors’ tales are far more interesting,” interjected Montague.

  Hans gave Mariya the barest of winks before turning to survey the room. While he’d been talking to Hennessy and Montague, more guests had arrived. He spotted the ambassador and his wife—a very influential woman—as well as the admiral recently appointed to replace the man who had been commanding the Fearless.

  Where to go next?

  He made a beeline for the admiral.

  Mariya would do her job and do it well. She already had the old goats eating out of the palm of her hand. If only they knew. Soon, she would be flattering them, telling them how experienced, knowledgeable men of war like themselves should have more influence on how things were run; that everything would fall apart unless someone with some sense stepped in.

  It was at gatherings like these where the real wheels of power turned. Attitudes were formed, alliances were made and broken, plans were created and set in motion. He had some hard work ahead of him tonight among the glasses of fine wine and canapés, but the wounds he’d sustained in the bombing of the General Council had nearly healed and he was on top form.

  As Hennessy had said, it was time to mingle.

  Chapter Thirty

  The kid had gone missing, but Lorcan wasn’t worried. He hated the little shit. And Dwyr Orr had practically twisted his arm to allow the child on the Bres. If harm came to her son, she couldn’t say he hadn’t warned her. His guardian—an old man so senile he could barely string words into a sentence—was utterly useless at keeping the lad under control. He was always slinking around and turning up where you least expected him, and where he knew he wasn’t supposed to be. If he’d gotten himself into trouble, it was his own fault.

  The Dwyr wasn’t exactly high on his list of favorite people at the moment anyway, Lorcan mused. Her abandonment of the battle at the critical moment, when everything was going their way, had been insane. Just because of some superstitious fear of whatever had taken the BA ship. He’d thought about the event for days, and his point still held: The thing had disappeared along with the ship it took. It hadn’t demonstrated an intent to attack the EAC or AP fleet. They should have pressed on with their new, unexpected advantage, not abandoned the fight.

  “Hey, Sparkes,” he said, “play the recording from the battle.”

  He sensed an unspoken, collective groan from the staff in the control center. It was true that they must have seen the vid ten or fifteen times, but so what? There was always something new to learn. After all the years they’d worked with him, he thought they would have understood that by now.

  In place of the scrolling scenes from the construction of the Bres, a new vista appeared. The BA’s fleet appeared as distant points of light, little bigger than the surrounding stars. Then the screen blinked as the cameras refocused, enlarging the vessels.

  He frowned. What arrogant fools the Alliance’s military leaders had been to think they could have destroyed one of his beautiful colony ships! How could they not know he would never have allowed that to happen, not while there was breath in his body. Nevertheless, he couldn’t deny that Dwyr Orr’s warning of the impending attack and support during the battle had been very useful.

  Until...

  There it was. The opaque cloud had puffed into space from nowhere, off in a corner of the screen. What a strange phenomenon. In his many years of studying space and in everything he’d learned from the world’s top astronomers, present and past, he’d never seen or heard of anything like it.

  All around him, his staff continued working, ignoring the battle’s replay, but Lorcan found himself drawn to the screen. He got up from his seat and walked closer.

  There was something hyperphysical about the cloud. He was reminded of Dwyr Orr’s ramblings about quantum mechanics and the ‘unknown’ aspects of universal laws. She might have called the mass dark matter or dark energy, though of course it was neither of those things. They were not ‘dark’ in the literal meaning of the word, for a start.

  “The report from Deck Six is in,” said Jurrah.

  “What report?” asked Lorcan.

  “About the boy, Perran. He isn’t there. They searched the place
top to bottom, but there’s no sign of him.”

  “Yes, yes. Whatever.” Lorcan resented the manpower and time wasted on the search. Every member of staff and every minute spent looking for the kid put back the completion of the Project. He had a good mind to send the Dwyr a bill.

  He stared intently at the screen. The finger of cloud was reaching out. It was hard not to anthropomorphise the phenomenon. It looked like a huddled hag, swathed in rags, sending forth a bony digit, perhaps to see how fat her captive children had grown, and if they were ready to eat.

  Only this finger didn’t poke, it enveloped what it touched.

  “It must have been terrifying,” Kekoa commented. She’d begun to watch the recording too.

  “What?” asked Lorcan.

  “For the men and women on the ship. To see that thing coming for them, knowing they couldn’t escape.”

  “I suppose it must have been.”

  Was that why no one else seemed keen to watch the battle again? Not because they were bored of it, but because it made them afraid?

  “Do you think they might still be alive?” Kekoa asked.

  “The crew of the ship? I very much doubt it, but it isn’t impossible. No one has a clue what happened.”

  “I hope they are.”

  “Whether they are or not matters little, except the BA now has one less vessel with which to plague us.” That was a positive outcome—the Alliance had been forced to run away with its tail between its legs. It would take time to recover from the loss of its flagship and the others destroyed in the battle, and that meant more opportunities for resource harvesting on Earth.

  “Should we begin to search Deck Seven?” Jurrah asked.

  “What f— Oh, that blasted kid.” Lorcan returned to his seat. The battle recording now only showed the retreating ships. After a harsh, heated discussion with the Dwyr, the AP and EAC ships had also returned to their bases.

  What a wasted opportunity. If only the woman...But there was no point in going over it again. What was done was done.