Date: 2022-04-25 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science Fiction
Description: Commodore Gage leads a final, desperate attempt to save Albion. A fragile alliance stands against the Daegon. Star nations with decades of war and hatred between them must unite against the invaders who will conquer them all without mercy. When Gage must destroy a key enemy installation, his coalition could crumble before the first shot is fired. As that battle rages, Albion is dying. Her people crushed beneath the occupier’s heel, losing all they are as they're turned into little more than slaves and cannon fodder for their oppressors. Albion needs heroes, and Gage must find a way to free his
Publisher: Triplane Press

Liberty or Death

The Exiled Fleet Book 6

By

Richard Fox

Cover art by Christian Kallias
https://www.christiankallias.com/
christian@kallias.com

Copyright © by Richard Fox

All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission.

ASIN:

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

From the Author

Read THE EMBER WAR for Free

Chapter 1

Adrenaline-laced blood always felt like ice running in Gage’s veins. It wasn’t cold aboard the Orion’s bridge, but a chill throbbed in his chest and spread through his limbs as his fleet’s sensors built a picture in the holo table before him.

He gripped the railing around the table hard, stunting the tremor in his hands.

This was a good sign, he told himself. Combat was not normal for any human and the physiological reaction of the fight-or-flight reaction had been ingrained into instinct since before men and women ever left the plains of Africa. Pre-battle jitters meant he was adequately focused on the tasks at hand. More than one superior officer he’d served under had told him that any man who claimed to feel nothing before a fight was a liar.

But as Commodore—and as the regent for the few free Albion citizens that remained—it was not acceptable to show fear. Or doubt. There was nothing wrong with feeling that awful mixture of fear and anticipation, but showing it would magnify through the sailors under his command.

In the holo, a small celestial body with a roughly spherical shape took form. At nearly thirty miles across, it would’ve been a run-of-the-mill asteroid that any settled system would have marked for deflection or destruction before it could threaten any inhabited planet. But the perfect circle through its center meant it was anything but ordinary. Threat icons for Daegon ships pinged around the object. The diamond icons spun and pulsed slowly as the sensor picture built up—slowly, far slower than such a vital task should have taken.

“Guns, where’s the sensor intake from the Cathay flotilla? Why is the data from the Reich so corrupted?” he asked through the holo picture to an officer at a workstation.

“It’s all coming in encrypted, sir,” the flush-faced lieutenant said. “We’re cracking the data but it’s causing a backlog that’s fouling our own readings as the system tries to rectify it all.”

“Blast it.” Gage touched three fingertips to a comms screen and pushed toward the top, running over icons for the ships Haishen, Arjan Singh and the Bismarck. Han, Birbal and von Trapp appeared as holograms around the table.

“Why is all our sensor data fouled?” Captain Birbal asked. His flawlessly white turban sat low on his head, smaller than his usual dastaar. Smart wires scrunched his normally long beard against his jawline so he could don a vac helmet with ease and at a moment’s notice. The Indus had many ways to lessen any interference from the requirements of their Sikh religion.

“Because all of you are using the wrong encryption ciphers,” said Count von Trapp of the Bismarck. He rubbed a long, extravagant dueling scar that ran from his earlobe down to the tip of his chin.

“Doesn’t really matter when the synthetic aperture sensor platform you all use isn’t even compatible with Cathay arrays.” General Han shook his head. “We launched this operation far too quickly. Our nations have never fought together, at least on the same side. As such, I suggest—”

“Tight beam raw sensor data between each flagship,” Gage cut in. “Broadcast in the clear. The Daegon might pick up the data bloom off our receivers, they might not. Our success here depends on attacking before the Daegon were ready for us to attack. We can’t lose momentum now.”

“Agreed.” Von Trapp looked to one side and snapped off an order in German. The data picture within the holo tank resolved and several dozen Daegon warships appeared in tight formation above the Oculus.

Gage frowned. The fidelity of their scans this far from their target was far better than the capabilities of the sensors aboard the Orion.

“Impossible…” Birbal stroked his beard.

“Impossible that the Daegon built that…thing or that my ship can read the hull markings at ten light-minutes away?” Von Trapp winked. “I’ll share the what, not the how. We’re on the same side for this conflict, but let’s not pretend that we’re all friends.”

General Han snorted.

“Sir…you need to see this.” Captain Price, Gage’s executive officer, flicked data off her screens into the tank. A patch of the void distant from the Oculus flashed, then expanded to fill the tank. Three separate Daegon flotillas of warships were on course to a slip point in the outer system. Each group was a combat fleet on its own, with the linked diamond hulls of the battleships Gage had fought before, along with attendant destroyers and cruisers of a slightly different design than Gage had seen.

“We are out massed,” Birbal said. “If the enemy brings those ships into the fight, we’ll be caught between an anvil and a very large hammer.”

“They’ll need at least two hours before they can launch long-range torps,” von Trapp said. “This will be over before that…yes?”

“It needs to be, or our respective nations will never know what happened to our first grand alliance,” Gage said. “The Daegon ships close to the Oculus…different construction.” Gage swiped the feed with the distant force into a corner and zoomed in on the ships fanning out around the cored asteroid. “There…the Minotaur. I’ve fought that ship before.” Gage double-tapped the Daegon vessel. “The sharp angles on other ships don’t match. We’ve arrived at the same time as Daegon reinforcements…hmm.”

“There are no supply ships.” Birbal raised a finger. “It’s all ships of the line…”

“Which confirms what I said when I briefed you all.” Tolan stepped up to the holo. The spy’s countenance was slightly rounded and puffy, at odds with his thin frame. Being a Faceless meant Gage never knew what he truly looked like, but Tolan had kept the same visage since they entered slip space for this mission. “They’re using Albion as a logistics base and press-ganging civilian ships and our people to keep up their war effort. But the Daegon had the merchant marine fleet of Albion and several more star nations at anchor back home…more than enough for what the Daegon have here.”

“They’re not done bringing ships through the Oculus.” Gage tapped the meat of his fist against the control ring. “We’re not too late to make a difference in this war.”

“Though we’re here just in time to throw ourselves against their guns.” Han’s jaw worked from side to side and beads of sweat grew on his forehead.

“We destroy the Oculus, we defeat every single ship the Daegon haven’t brought to the war,” von Trapp said. “This will be a worthy battle.” He rubbed his hands together quickly.

“Not everyone is in a dreadnought,” Han said. “We don’t know if destroying the Oculus will make that much of a difference. So what if we stop their camp followers from arriving? It’s those warships that will conquer our worlds.”

“I remember a certain Cathay philosopher that said defeating the enemy’s plans was better than defeating them on the battlefield,” Gage said. “We don’t know how many Daegon worlds there are beyond the Veil, but if we destroy the Oculus, it won’t matter. We’ll sever their connection to them here and now, and I have a feeling the Daegon will tell us just how crucial that installation is in the next few minutes.” Gage pointed to the sensor feed of the distant enemy fleets. “They’ll turn about if what’s coming through is worth the fight.”

“They do that and we’ll be in the devil’s kitchen,” von Trapp said. “We’ll be in real trouble. Let’s end this quick, ja? I have the biggest guns in all of settled space aboard the Bismarck. I intend to use them against that giant immobile target, and to quote a Reich military philosopher, Ontward, aber mit forlein.”

“Forward, yes, but we need to do it with more than intelligence,” Gage said and opened a fleet-wide channel. “All ships match velocity with the Bismarck. Task force Trojan make ready. Advance to bring the Bismarck’s spine battery to bear. Soon as the enemy show their hand, we’ll make them pay for it.”

Sensor alerts at the bottom of the holo tank pinged. Anomalous readings from several smaller asteroids scattered around their assault vector begged for more attention, but he couldn’t slow the attack to investigate. They had to strike hard and fast before more Daegon could join the assault.

It was probably nothing.

Chapter 2

Tiberian rolled his left shoulder as he strode down the passageway to the Minotaur’s bridge. His armor, fresh from ship’s stores, was still adjusting to his frame. The nagging injuries he’d suffered on Lantau threw off his gait and offset the normal swing of one arm. Daegon crew slammed their backs against the bulkheads as he passed, their throats bared in submission, eyes turned away from looking directly at him.

The blast doors to the bridge slid aside as he approached. Gustavus stood in the center of the command hemisphere, a holo dome over him that shifted and spun as new data fed into the ship’s computers. The bridge crew stationed around the circular bridge didn’t rise as the doors shut behind Tiberian.

Gustavus had his back to Tiberian, hands clasped over his blood red cape. The younger Daegon’s dark hair was slicked back and glinted beneath the swirling dome.

Tiberian stopped at the edge of the holo dome, a half-dozen insults and threats competing to be the first out of his mouth at his nephew’s insolence.

“Boy. This was your ship for as long as I—”

Gustavus snapped a finger up next to his face.

Tiberian snarled, ready to break the offending digit off and feed it to the insolent little brat, until Gustavus’ finger shifted to point off to the right. It trembled ever so slightly.

Tiberian jumped to his right as a shadow fell toward him. A rush of air passed his face and he felt a glancing impact against his shoulder pauldron. The assassin’s blade struck the deck and bit into the metal. The man wielding a faintly glowing katana was wrapped in twisting shadows as the stealth suit bent light around his body.

Tiberian snapped a kick into the center of the shadows. The toe of his boot connected with something solid and a finger-length blade hidden in the sole stabbed through the assassin’s ribs. A jolt of electricity ripped through the blade and stunned the attacker.

The Daegon commander slammed his hands onto the assassin and swung the body up and behind him. A glowing blade pierced through his improvised meat shield as a second attack was foiled. Tiberian slammed the dead assassin to the deck, wrenching the embedded katana from the other assassin’s hands. Tiberian thrust his hands into the shifting shadows and caught hold of something solid.

He tore his hands to his sides. The assassin’s shadow field failed as an arm went spinning through the air and smacked against the bulkhead. The assassin, the dark cloth of her uniform sputtering light as it malfunctioned, looked at the exposed bone and blood spurting from her shoulder, then smiled up at Tiberian. He kicked her in the face hard enough to snap her neck and hinge her head back over her shoulders.

Tiberian drew a pistol and spun around. Two of the bridge crew were on their feet, each with an arm pointed at him. Weapons were forbidden on his bridge, but their hands flopped down at the wrist and embedded plasma gun barrels punched out of their cybernetics to take aim at him.

Shots rang out and the pair of traitorous crew were torn apart by a hail of bullets.

Gustavus blew smoke from the barrel of his pistol. A young woman with a horribly scarred face stepped up next to him in the dome, another pistol clenched in her hands.

“House Yasuda are the same snakes they’ve always been,” Gustavus said. “Their delegation arrived before you did…I was not as prepared for them as you were.”

Tiberian brushed blood from a gash on his shoulder.

“You could’ve done nothing and let me die,” Tiberian said.

“That would make us traitorous curs in House Yasuda’s eyes. They would’ve killed us as soon as it was convenient. We are House Asaria. Our cause is absolute, my lord.” Juliae slipped her small pistol onto her belt.

“A temporary command and you’ve already claimed a woman,” Tiberian snorted at Gustavus.

“We claimed each other.” Gustavus smiled slightly. “She bled for our House. I find her worthy to share in my future territory.”

“I don’t particularly care.” Tiberian glanced back at one of the bullet-riddled corpses as blood seeped away from it and across the deck. “Loyalty is required. Skill is appreciated. Have Shipmaster Zeno dispose of the trash and replace the crew.”

“Sire, House Yasuda hails,” the comms officer said.

Tiberian flicked a hand up and the holo dome snapped into the ancient Asian aesthetic that Yasuda preferred. Three figures sat cross-legged on a small raised dais, swords laid across their laps, demon masks covering their noses and mouths.

“What was this supposed to accomplish?” Tiberian picked up the corpse missing an arm, then chucked it to one side.

“We have our doubts as to both your intentions and your competence. We sent a delegation to see that our interests were paramount.” The man in the center leaned forward slightly, light reflecting off the lacquer sheen of his armor. “Now we must continue to suffer your influence. You led the ferals here.”

“No. They knew this place before I ever entered slip space to warn you. Have your astrogators do the simple math of my arrival in a dagger ship and their transit time from Lantau. Assigning blame is irrelevant while the enemy is at our threshold. The Bismarck—”

“Their capabilities are obvious. The vast majority of our forces are still in transit!” shouted a woman to the left of the first speaker. “The Oculus cannot be disrupted.”

“House Asaria’s grand writ is to be the vanguard for the entire Daegon,” Tiberian said. “We would fail if this installation was vulnerable to the first ferals to stumble across it. With your command and mine…and the defenses we’ve prepared…there is little to worry about.”

“Forgive us if we are not confident in your assertions,” the third lord of House Yasuda said.

“The ferals have stumbled into a trap laid as soon as the Oculus opened for Baroness Asaria’s vanguard.” Tiberian raised one arm and fresh blood spilled down his shoulder. “Observe.”

****

“No reaction from the enemy…” Commander Price said. She stroked her chin and stared into the holo tank as the combined fleet bore down on the Oculus. “Shall we order shields lit and form the wall?”

“We divert power to shields, we’ll lose acceleration. Gives the Daegon forces enough time to catch up with us before we can destroy that thing.” Gage tapped the Oculus in the center of the tank.

“Speed can be the best armor…in certain circumstances,” Price said. “Fleet engagements such as this don’t have a history of the faster side winning the engagement. We’re about to step into a slugging match with our hands down, Commodore.”

“I don’t want to fight this battle leading with our face, but needs must and—what was that?” Gage swiped a hand slowly from right to left and an overlay of recent sensor data appeared atop the current operational projections. Data fluttered in the void around the Albion-led force.

“Picking up infrared flares from smaller asteroids.” Price’s face went pale. “Brief, but it looks like residual heat energy from mag launchers. Plotting all detections now.”

Pinpricks of light appeared distant from the assault force, forming a long cylinder from the Oculus back to their slip entry point. More and more pinpricks of light manifested in the holo tank.

Gage slammed a palm on a fleet-wide broadcast key. “All ships! Attack formation Rounders immediately. We have mag-launched incoming fire. We won’t see the attack vectors until it’s too late,” Gage said. Albion ships broke from the echelon and maneuvered into part of a sphere. Their shields lit up, joining together at the edges to form a shared energy wall.

“Sir…” Price raised a finger. “I don’t think our allies—”

“What the hell is a ‘rounder’?” Von Trapp’s holo appeared next to Gage. Birbal and Han snapped into focus a moment later.

“Hollow sphere.” Gage shook his head slightly and used his computer to send new coordinates to the rest of the allied fleet. “Daegon have this area mined with dumb launchers. We need seven hundred twenty degree coverage until we—”

“We’ll lose acceleration but I’d rather do that than eat a golden BB,” von Trapp said. “What? Albion doesn’t have that doctrinal term? Just keep the Daegon off the Bismarck until my spine cannons are in effective range and I’ll end this fight in a single volley.”

“Incoming!” Clarke, the gunnery officer, called out.

Daegon torpedoes appeared shockingly close to the Ajax and Sterling. The warheads burst into stabs of plasma that raked across the ships’ joined shields. A second volley fired off intermittingly, crashing against the shields and evaporating into neon-blue whips against the energy wall. A single shot struck at the seam between the Ajax and the Concordia. A blast scalped the dorsal hull of the Concordia, ripping hull plating and several point defense emplacements off the ship behind the conn tower.

Gage winced at the damage but recognized that the battle cruiser’s critical systems were unscathed.

“Consistent engagement range from the torps. Running a backtrack on the attacks to points of origin,” Price said. “Interdiction fire has a decent chance of—”

“Point defense saturation authorized. We need to—damn it.” Gage leaned closer to the holo tank as more and more magnetic launch signatures appeared farther and farther away from his fleet.

“We’re running a gauntlet,” Price said. “But the torps are coming in…predictably. The enemy isn’t adjusting to mass fire and overwhelming any part of our shield wall. Let’s hope they don’t realize their mistake.”

A Cathay destroyer and frigate exploded in the tank. The Cathay detachment moved too slowly to cover up the gap in their shield wall and the Haishen took a direct hit to the aft engine block. General Han’s flagship slowed briefly, but surged ahead to rejoin the rest of the nearly complete sphere with the Bismarck at the leading edge.

“They’re feeling us out,” Birbal said, reappearing next to Gage. “How long until they realize that we can’t link shields between our respective squadrons?”

“The Daegon are brutes, but they’re no fools,” Gage said. “Let’s assume they know already.”

“Sir!” Price reoriented the holo back to the Oculus. Waves of teardrop-shaped fighters swarmed out of hangars ringing the Daegon base built atop the cored asteroid. “Hard to get an exact count at this distance, but it’s several hundred bogies.”

Gage watched as the incoming fighters vectored toward the shield seams around the Bismarck and Castle Itter. He could reorient the Indus and Cathay squadrons to give the dreadnought better protection, but that would leave them open to the still incoming fire from the torpedo-firing mines.

“They’re not leaving us any easy decisions,” Gage said. “But we planned for this. Captain De Jong?” Gage opened a channel to the destroyer Fairbairn.

“Sir. My detachment stands ready,” De Jong said as she appeared in a window. “So many enemy fighters in need of killing, plus I’m getting tired of all the nervous yet polite requests for updates from my barnacles.”

“Execute mission condition bravo,” Gage said. “Good hunting.”

“Thank you, Commodore. Hard to miss. Albion’s light burns.” De Jong donned her void combat helmet and gave him a nod. Her window closed and every destroyer in the Albion squadron accelerated through a gap in the shield wall between the Orion and Concordia. The smaller vessels were armed with anti-void fighter missiles and point defense turrets that could flood a sector of space with smaller munitions. Useless against larger targets, but ideal for knocking down fighters and torpedoes.

“Han?” Gage asked after a moment. The Cathay brought a significant contingent of destroyers but none had advanced forward to intercept the oncoming threats. A stream of shrill Cathay stung Gage’s ears. He wasn’t fluent in the language, but he picked out several choice expletives.

Opposite Gage, Han’s holo appeared, wisps of smoke and flame flickers casting strange shadows across him.

“Apologies, Commodore, some of my captains weren’t as enthusiastic about leaving the shield wall as your destroyers. The issue’s been addressed. Ignore any requests for asylum after this battle is over, if you don’t mind,” the Cathay officer said.

In the tank, Cathay destroyers lurched out of the hollow sphere and joined the Albion vanguard.

“Remind them of the plan,” Gage said. “My destroyers don’t have an actual death wish. They’re just going to sell the idea.”

“I’ve commanded destroyers. Any commander that wants to be out there in that mess needs a death wish,” Han said. “Care to make a wager on who will knock down the most fighters?”

“Not now, but we can compare tallies after we eliminate the Oculus.” Gage turned his attention back to the battle. The Daegon fleets near the asteroid had formed into a double-stacked echelon and were accelerating toward the Bismarck.

“How long until his spine cannons are in effective range?” Gage asked.

“Assuming the Krauts—Reich!—told us the truth…forty-five minutes,” Price said. “He fires any sooner and counter fire will destroy the shells before they can strike the target. We accelerate, we’ll be open to attack…”

“No easy decisions.” Gage’s jaw clenched for a moment. “Up to us not to make the wrong ones…and force the Daegon to react according to how we dictate. I expect the King’s Own will live up to their reputation. Ready long-range torpedoes, I’m not giving that Daegon flotilla an easy march toward us.”

“Aye aye…may I add how good it feels to be on the offensive, for once,” Price said.

“I’m saving my enthusiasm for when we win,” Gage said as he watched the destroyers close toward the Oculus.

****

Wyman’s stomach lurched as the Fairbairn maneuvered suddenly. He wouldn’t have that problem if his Typhoon fighter was docked within the destroyer, but being mag-locked to the hull accentuated every course correction the ship made.

“You OK over there, Freak?” his wingman asked over their ship-to-ship channel.

Wyman looked to his right at Ivor’s Typhoon a few yards from his and gave her a thumbs-up. The rest of Cobra squadron were all around them, clutching the Fairbairn like a swarm of bats on a cave ceiling.

“I’m glad you’re awake for this, Briar,” Wyman said. “How can you always sleep right before combat?” he asked, running a systems check on his fighter. The pair of torpedoes jerry-rigged to the top of his wings made him nervous. The mechanics assured him that the fire controls were integrated properly, but they weren’t the ones who’d vanish in a sudden flash of light if the launch circuitry was fouled.

“How can you not? Like we’ve been getting our required crew rest these days. Stims plus adrenaline make me too jittery,” Ivor said. “How long to the release point? You think we’ll actually touch void or will we go down with this tub and accomplish absolutely nothing?”

“Don’t jinx us, Briar. This whole thing is crazy enough as it is.” Wyman crossed himself quickly. “You think this was Gage’s idea? He’s not a fighter jock—he doesn’t know how nuts this is.”

“I heard the good idea fairy gave Crusader a visit,” Ivor said and raised her palms up in her cockpit. “I thought senior officers were immune to stuff like this. Yet here we are.”

“Well, if it was Crusader’s idea…” Wyman nodded slowly. The commander of the King’s Own squadron was a living legend amongst Albion’s fighter pilots, and both Wyman and Ivor had flown on his wing in the Lantau system. “Makes sense. He did drop us out there on that picket.”

“Why does he love the cockpit so much? Think he heard the rumor that the Reich call him some kind of ‘Red Baron’? Why would they do that? Crusader’s from a really minor noble family if I remember right.”

“You don’t know who the Red—” Wyman’s cockpit flashed amber. His heart went into overdrive and he flipped up the cover on his fighter’s emergency release switch.

“Cobras, make ready to touch void,” Lieutenant Commander Stannis, the squadron commander, said through Wyman’s earpiece. “Target-rich environment, but we’re not out here to get kills on their fighters. We’re hunting bigger game. Fairbairn and her sisters will clear the way as best they can. Still…don’t look back. This is bigger than any of us. Drop your ordnance then circle back. Albion’s light burns.”

“And we carry the torch.” Wyman almost crossed himself again, but he kept his hands on his controls. The ship shuddered as plasma roiled across her shields. Wyman swallowed hard, remembering a family trip from his youth and his father teaching him about the aurora borealis. Where was his father now? Was he still alive?

“Freak…I’m scared,” Ivor said. “I’ve never attacked an enemy superweapon before.”

“It’s more of a slip space node if that makes you feel any better.” Wyman tightened his grip on the control stick.

“It doesn’t…there’s the warning signal. Good hunting,” she said.

“Good hunting.” Wyman touched the release switch and waited for a tone to sound. A heartbeat later there was a shrill rattling in his ears and he slapped the switch down. His fighter drifted away from the Fairbairn. The lead elements of Cobra squadron shot ahead, accelerating as their ion engines blazed.

Wyman throttled forward and the sudden acceleration slammed him against his seat. His flight suit squeezed his body, keeping blood in his head as his vision lost some of its color. His Typhoon shook as the acceleration continued. He caught glimpses of plasma bolts and missiles streaking overhead as the Fairbairn unleashed hell toward bogies that his targeting systems hadn’t picked up.

The HUD built into his flight helmet was a riot of target icons, friendly fighter craft and pulsating threat warnings as anti-ship fighter-killer missiles roiled off the Albion destroyer squadron toward the Daegon fighters.

“Jesus…” Wyman’s jaw went slack as the heavens above his cockpit erupted with brief pinpricks of fire and light.

“Big thing! We have to shoot the big thing, Freak!” Ivor shouted at him.

Wyman shook his head quickly and focused on the distant Oculus.

“All wings,” Crusader said over the network, his words tense and labored as he fought against the acceleration, “keep…max acceleration for as long as you can. There’s no prize for getting there late.”

Wyman focused on the Oculus as it grew larger and larger ahead of him. Leaving the destroyers behind—leaving all Albion’s capital ships behind—betrayed all his instincts as a fighter pilot. He was trained to gain and maintain local void supremacy so the big guns could do their work, not race ahead for all the glory.

A priority targeting icon pinged over the Oculus. His torpedoes were to destroy a rotating ring within the hole cored through the giant asteroid. Reality seemed to blur close to the ring and the void morphed into a deep blackness with sparse stars behind the station.

What was actually behind the Oculus was the Veil, a light-years-long nebulae that blocked slip space travel and cut off settled space from a whole swath of the galaxy. At least, that had always been the assumption until the Daegon invasion.

“Cobras, cut acceleration and make your attack runs on my mark,” Lieutenant Commander Stannis said. “Mark!”

Wyman deactivated his ion thrusters and the crushing gravities of acceleration lifted off him. His vision and hearing returned to normal as blood flowed freely through his veins again.

A flash of light blossomed to his port side and he rolled away out of instinct. His HUD fizzled and the controls went sluggish as he drifted off course.

“Freak! You hurt?” Ivor shouted.

“Shrapnel through maneuvering thrusters.” Wyman swiped away a flashing damage screen on his HUD. “Adjusting trim to—”

More explosions flashed overhead and eight Albion fighters blinked off his Identify Friend or Foe overlay.

“All craft, close in!” Crusader shouted. “Get inside the defilade of the point defenses!”

“Defilade?” Ivor asked.

“Fly so close their guns can’t track us!” Wyman braced himself again and punched forward. The King’s Own squadron were already ahead of him, though there were only eight of the original twelve left.

The Oculus took up most of his view out of the cockpit. Daegon ships bore down on the installation, turrets and missile tubes flashing as more death came at him. Torpedoes shot off the King’s Own and arced toward targets along the inner surface of the Oculus. Pinpricks of light flashed from void defense batteries near the closest ring and all the King’s Own munitions were destroyed well short of their targets.

“They’re reading our telemetry data,” Crusader spat. “All craft…hug the asteroid surface. Fly nap of the earth and ram your targets—or anything that looks vital. Follow me. For the King!”

Crusader banked hard and went straight toward the outer lip of the hole through the Oculus.

“He’s serious…” Ivor said.

“We can’t—we have to! Come on!” Wyman hit keys on his munitions control screen and changed the warhead fuse to point detonation. He banked to starboard and focused on an ancient crater on the asteroid.

Space went milky-white ahead of him. A flattened blade, the prow of a void ship, juddered to a slow velocity as the rest of a long Daegon freighter materialized within the Oculus and directly in front of Wyman

“Shit shit shit!” Wyman flung his fighter into a barrel roll and barely cleared a dorsal turret on the freighter. Shields flared around the new arrival and the energy wall pinched his tail and spat him away. There was a jolt as damaged maneuvering thrusters shorted out, sending his fighter into a slow, flat spin.

Deeper in the Oculus, more hazy spots appeared.

“Here goes nothing…” Wyman waited for his prow to swing toward the nearest blur and loosed both his torpedoes. They shot off, dumb-fired as he’d disabled all their tracking systems.

The first torpedo spat through the slip space disturbance. It went tumbling end over end and burst uselessly in the void.

The incoming Daegon ship materialized around the second torpedo. The warhead ignited inside the ship, blasting out in all directions and tearing the ship apart. The fore of the freighter corkscrewed into the ship Wyman had almost collided with, gouging across the engine block as the extreme heat from the struck vessel melted the decapitated head of her sister ship into slag.

The rest of the new arrival expanded into a smoldering cloud of debris within the Oculus. A hull fragment the size of the Fairbairn stabbed into a spinning ring and the entire device broke apart, adding to the chaos.

“Crusader! Pull back! I think I—”

Wyman threw his arms up over his visor as a glow from the space station built into the top of the asteroid grew brighter and brighter. The blinding light faded a heartbeat later. An expanding cloud of fire and metal rose off the Oculus like a volcano had just erupted beneath the Daegon station.

“Yup. You did,” Ivor said. “Whatever you were about to tell the big guy, you definitely did it.”

Wyman glanced through the Oculus and didn’t see the strange star field any longer. It was just the Veil.

“All craft, break off attack and get back to the fleet,” Crusader said. “Priority mission accomplished. Provide interdiction and void supremacy to the line. We’re not going to let those sailors think we’re the type to rest on our laurels.”

Wyman pulled his Typhoon up and around to an Immelmann turn. He coaxed as much speed out of his fighter as he could and was barely able to keep up with the rest of the surviving strike force.

“Just can’t please some people,” Ivor said, flying next to Wyman’s wing. “How’d you do that? It was an amazing shot.”

“Dumb luck…I guess.”

“No, say it was pure skill and brilliance. It might get us some time off. Assuming we survive the rest of the day.” She flashed him a thumbs-up.

Chapter 3

Gage surveyed the battle as Daegon warships squared off against his motley fleet. Strikes from the mines laid near the Oculus had petered out, but the fear that the enemy was waiting for him to abandon his hollow sphere formation remained.

The Cathay ships had taken extensive damage, losing three of the destroyers they’d brought to the battle and taking heavy damage to two of their cruisers. General Han had insisted his fleet was up to the task, but as the fight dragged on, Gage’s fears that the Emperor had committed cannon fodder to this battle were becoming more and more confirmed.

The Bismarck continued his painfully slow approach toward the Oculus. It would be another ten minutes before his spine cannons were in effective range and they would bleed every minute. Gage still maintained hope that the big guns were as effective as von Trapp promised.

The Daegon had reacted quickly with their ships of the line; only the Minotaur and another battleship analog had held back from the fight. The two out system fleets that had been on their way to slip points were closing in on Gage’s fleet. They’d be able to focus fire and overwhelm the smaller Cathay vessels in their part of the sphere, and that would spell a quick end to the battle.

The Bismarck would likely be able to fire on the Oculus before that happened. Probably.

“Sterling! Adjust your dorsal shield wall to plug the gap between us and the Castle Itter.” Gage grasped the holo outline of the Albion battle cruiser and shifted it against the Reich battleship. “The Daegon are targeting our seams. One torp gets through and—”

The holo table swam with static as the slip portal within the Oculus failed. Fragmented data and sensor readings swirled around the asteroid, before resolving to show the asteroid cracked beneath the burnt-out remains of the station. A slow stream of debris floated out of the cored-out channel.

“Ha! Ha ha!” Price punched a fist into the air. “We did it!”

A cheer broke out among the bridge crew.

“Focus!” Gage slammed a fist against his station. “We are still in the middle of a fight. Thames. Concordia. Fall back to launch position and ready an anti-ship volley on the cluster of—”

The enemy ships Gage was about to target exploded, and a trio of Daegon battleships next to the carnage came apart seconds later. Two more hammer blows shattered the enemy line, disrupting their shield walls and leaving the survivors vulnerable to attack.

“What the hell was that?” Price’s brow furrowed.

Count von Trapp’s holo appeared next to Gage. The Reichsman chuckled to himself, a stupid grin on his face.

“Bismarck?” Gage asked.

“The Oculus looked plenty dead to me,” von Trapp said with a shrug. “So there was no point in withholding fire from my spine cannons. What? Did you want the glory of destroying those ships for yourself?”

“This isn’t about glory, von Trapp.” Gage shook his head. “Pat yourself on the back all you want once this is over. We’ve still got three times as many enemy vessels coming for us. We need to reorientate our lines and—”

“They’re pulling back,” Price said. “The Minotaur…all of them.”

In the holo tank, Tiberian’s flagship and the House Yasuda ship set course for the slip point on the outer edge of the system. The incoming enemy fleets slowly turned about and retreated.

“After them!” Birbal’s holo appeared. “We can chase some of them down before they escape. Let me loose and I’ll—”

“No,” Gage said, shaking his head. “They’re running and I know where they’re going.” Gage pulled up a star map. “Albion. They’re falling back to Albion.”

“Then the fewer ships they have to defend their conquered territory, the easier it’ll be for you,” von Trapp said. “Run them down! They’re vulnerable!”

“The only way we can do that is if we send the frigates forward. Unsupported. We’d be vulnerable to any mines, and if their other fleets come about, we’ll have an even worse fight on our hands,” Gage said. “We need to conserve combat power. The battle is won, the war is not.”

“I…see your wisdom now,” Birbal said.

Von Trapp’s gaze was off to one side, his audio muted as he spoke to someone. His face fell and he looked back to Gage.

“I’d dread naught, but it seems firing all Bismarck’s spine cannons in such a quick succession has exposed a number of…maintenance issues,” von Trapp said.

“The Daegon don’t know that,” Gage said, “but they know what he can do. Maintain current formation and make for the slip point back to Cathay space. Rescue ops commence for lifeboats as we go.”

“There are…no Daegon life pods.” Birbal tugged at the smart wires on his chin, unfurling his chest-length beard. “Horrifyingly apropos for them.”

“One less hassle. Bismarck, do you need any engineering support?” Gage asked.

“No!” von Trapp snapped. “I appreciate your offer, but we don’t need Albion engineers poking around the pinnacle of Reich technology.”

Tolan muttered from behind Gage.

“Then our duties are clear. Execute,” Gage said and dismissed the other commanders’ holos.

“Now what?” Price asked. “If we’ve really cut the Daegon off from their home worlds…”

“They’re still here. They’re still Daegon. Do we know how many other fleets came through before we arrived?” Gage asked.

“No…shit. They could turn Albion into a fortress. And I was almost happy.” She frowned.

“War is never one battle. But we’ve seized the initiative…for now.” Gage turned to Tolan. “I need to speak to our prisoner.”

Tolan tugged at his chin and his features shifted. “I have some suggestions before you do that, Commodore.”

****

Tiberian rolled a knife handle from one hand to the other. His quarters were quiet as the Minotaur closed on the slip point. Another Daegon battleship was perilously close to his ship, her plasma cannons bared and ready to fire on him.

House Yasuda had not spoken with him since the Oculus fell. Not that there was much else for them to say to him.

Tiberian flipped the knife point toward his chest and pressed the tip to his heart. His hand trembled for a moment, then his hand fell to his side.

There was a chime at his door.

“Enter.” Tiberian kept his back to the door as it slid open, a failing of any Daegon noble. Gustavus stopped on the threshold.

“I see your reflection.” Tiberian waggled his knife at his window. “Your hesitation would cost you if you came here to kill me.”

“That’s not why I’m here, sire.” Gustavus took a step inside, still close enough to prevent the door from closing.

“Then why are you here with your woman and a squad of soldiers?” Tiberian tossed his blade onto his bed, then turned and leaned against the window.

“I’m no fool, uncle.” Gustavus raised his hands to his sides. “Our situation is…precarious.”

A golden box hung from Gustavus’ neck, glinting against the light. The writ to protect the Oculus seemed to weigh heavily on him, the writ that Tiberian had given him before he’d left to hunt down Gage on Lantau.

“It is. But it doesn’t need to be.” Tiberian opened and closed his left hand. The re-graft after a Katar assassin wasn’t perfect; there was still some numbness in his thumb.

“You protected my father’s legacy after his defeat.” Gustavus fiddled with the writ. “Which protected my life. Our family’s reputation. There will be consequences for what just happened.”

One side of Tiberian’s mouth twitched.

“The rightful masters of humanity do not accept failure or excuses. Such is our burden. Such is our writ.” Tiberian turned to Gustavus. The young officer’s hand moved slowly toward a pistol at his hip.

“Stop, you’re being ridiculous.” Tiberian chuckled.

“Am I? Someone will pay for failure. I’m the one with the writ around my neck.” Gustavus flicked the golden box hanging from his neck.

“So you’re here to kill me for failure and drop the writ on my corpse? You should’ve brought more men.” Tiberian flicked his knife into the bulkhead where the blade buried itself halfway to the hilt. “You underestimate me, young one.”

“The Oculus was your command. Your responsibility. You passed the writ to me when you went off to hunt down Gage. Where you failed. Again! Then the ferals arrived on your heels…”

“I will not explain myself again…though I am aware how it looks.” Tiberian sat on a bench at the foot of his bed. “I am aware how it will appear to our Baroness and the other Houses.”

“Take it back.” Gustavus broke the chain around his neck with a quick snap. “You-you retook command when you boarded the Minotaur. You can’t let me take the fall for this.”

Tiberian put his palms on his knees. He tensed slightly and Gustavus backed away. Juliae appeared in the doorway, a plasma pistol in her hands aimed at the hunter. He chuckled.

“Youth. You two think what you’re feeling for each other is something new and beautiful. That no one else can understand what you have. Your elders know far better than you do…you’ll learn. You’re willing to die for the chance to be together and you can’t imagine a world without the other. It’s as naïve as it is cliché. Don’t think I’m immune to knowing about consequences or what can be gained from a sacrifice. Eubulus was going to die for his failures, either from his injuries or from his writ.” Tiberian raised one hand slowly, then turned his palm up. “Give it to me. You’re correct that the writ was mine as soon as I retook the bridge. Perhaps I should’ve let the Yasuda assassins kill me. Much cleaner.”

Gustavus held out the writ, the golden box dangling from the chain, and dropped it into Tiberian’s hand. Tiberian closed his fingers over it one at a time.

“I will remain here.” Tiberian drew his hand back. “Place as many guards around my quarters as you like.”

“There was honor in how my father died…you think you will find the same fate?” Gustavus asked.

“Baroness Asaria will decide.” Tiberian rocked back slightly. “Again, your naïve view of things is rather…limited.”

“Gustavus. Leave. Now,” Juliae said. “We’ve succeeded.”

Tiberian leaned to one side to look her over. “She has nice scars. I like her.”

Gustavus backed away, never turning from his uncle. The door snapped shut and sparks spat from the edges as Tiberian was sealed within.

Chapter 4

Zheng rolled his wrists from side to side. The chain connecting his manacles was strengthened by tiny force fields. His painfully thin paper-based prisoner’s uniform was insufficient against the cold of his cell, but at least he was fed decently twice a day.

The opaque shield wall covering his bars flickered. Zheng looked up to see Gage and a pair of serious-looking armsmen on his flanks.

“Which one of them is your Faceless monster?” Zheng asked.

“How do you know it’s not me trying to goad you into trying to kill Gage?” Gage raised an eyebrow.

“Because I have a deal with your Faceless to cooperate. I break that, I’ll either be killed immediately or handed over to the Cathay. My prisoner’s dilemma is pretty simple,” the eunuch said.

“Why?” Gage crossed his arms. “Why are the Daegon doing this? How do we stop the bloodshed?”

The elderly man chuckled. “Like I told your freak, you will be ruled. The Daegon are the rightful masters of all humanity. Peasants. Serfs. Debtors. The ninety-nine percent. The label you had was irrelevant. We ruled you. When we feared that Earth would be lost to a cataclysm…we left you behind. Perhaps that was a mistake. We should’ve brought breeding stock and re-created the natural order, but then we would have had to leave some of our own behind to die. None were willing to make that mistake.” Zheng scratched his face. The force field between his wrists snapped at his face and he forced back a sneeze.

“I hate to break it to you, but your former slaves just destroyed the Oculus,” Gage said flatly.

Zheng’s chin quivered for a moment.

“Where’s the backup?” Gage asked.

“Backup? Do you know how difficult it was to send a pioneer fleet through the Veil to even build the Oculus? There is no ‘backup.’ The rest of the Houses are severed from us…damn.” Zheng scrunched his nose. “Asaria should have waited until at least House Yasuda was here before she launched her assault through Albion. But the Daegon eat what they kill. Every world she blitzed through was hers. If the other House had been here, then she would have had to compete for choice feral worlds.”

“Like Albion.” Gage took a step closer to the bars.

“Albion was the great jewel. Asaria planned on taxing every House that passed through on their way to fresh territory…irrelevant now.”

“How do I get her to leave Albion without further bloodshed? I want freedom for my people and my planet. That end state doesn’t require the death of every last Daegon,” Gage said.

“You’re a fool.” Zheng shook his head. “What makes you think we will ever accept anything but your complete submission? Novis regiray! You will be ruled. That has never been a suggestion. It is the only thing we want.”

“I figured, but I would be remiss in my duties if I ignored a course of action that would save innocent lives. How long have you been here? How well do you really know us?” Gage asked.

Zheng laughed. “I started at the bottom of Cathay society.” The eunuch scratched his crotch. “Perfect score on the Civil Service Examination. That I was willing to be neutered made my placement in the palace quite simple. I’ve seen it all for decades.”

“And if you were returned to your people? What would you tell them about our resolve?” Gage asked.

Zheng stared at him for a moment.

“I’d tell Baroness Asaria that you’re all the same weak, bickering bunch of subhuman that you always were. No unity. No purpose. You’re easily led by the nose into whatever distraction your betters wish for you while we laugh and profit off your efforts. You think freedom is so worthwhile, but you’ve wasted it. If you really did destroy the Oculus…it won’t matter in the long run. You’ll break down squabbling before too long, and then we will conquer you one by one. Same as ever.”

“You’ll be killed if we return you,” Gage said.

“After an extensive bout of torture. Yes.” Zheng shrugged. “That I allowed myself to be taken prisoner won’t be taken well, despite my decades of effective service. The Cathay have a saying: Every last ‘good job’ is forgotten after your first ‘you fucked it up.’ Your rulers have a similar philosophy.”

“Is that an actual Cathay quote?” Gage raised an eyebrow.

“It’s more poetic in court language,” Zheng said. “The safest place for me in the entire galaxy is in this cell. The irony is not lost on me.”

“I’ve never met a Daegon with any degree of self-preservation.” Gage walked slowly back and forth in front of the cell. “You tried to stop Tolan before he could trigger the self-immolation device in your body. Why not let him end you and keep us from interrogating you?”

Zheng rubbed the fresh surgery scars on the back of his neck where a number of shorted-out Daegon implants had been removed.

“I barely remember the House world I was born on. Then the hyper sleep during the long journey around the Veil to Cathay…It took me several decades of infiltration and preparation before I realized that I’d forgotten why was doing it. I was quite content in my position at court, despite the sacrifices. The Emperor’s top eunuch! Don’t let anyone tell you that’s like being the top whore in a cathouse. It’s much better.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Gage said.

“I began to fear that my people would never begin their re-conquest…then Cleon’s Specters got in touch with me a decade ago and told me our time was nigh. Part of me didn’t want that to come. Being content is like a slow poison for ambition and drive. When your freak almost exposed me before the Emperor, my duty was to be destroyed to protect the mission, but I remembered my life. The Emperor’s concubines are remarkable women, skilled in more than one thing. There were several that I adored and no one ever had to worry about my affections toward them.”

“That’s why you’re helping us? You enjoyed the good life?”

“No…I forgot my purpose for a moment and doomed myself. Now I have to sit and spin in this awful purgatory that I’ve made. What do you want from me, Commodore? Regent? Grand pretender to a shattered throne?”

“How can I end this war with as little bloodshed as possible?”

“You can’t. Our entire culture’s glorious purpose is to reconquer you peasants. To return to the past glory we once had, or the glory we choose to remember. You destroyed the Oculus? The House worlds remain. They won’t give up on you. Baroness Asaria has to hold what she has and wait. Dig in. That is her writ. If she retreats into wild space, she’ll take over pirate territory and you’ll have to burn her out. That’s not something Albion ever managed to do, is it?”

“It’s not,” Gage said and nodded. “Albion tolerated the pirate clans so long as they left the rest of the star nations alone.”

“You’ll never get a détente like that from Asaria. Never-ending sabotage. Never-ending raids. We are rulers, not neighbors.”

“You’ve been helpful.” Gage glanced at an armsman and the opaque energy wall returned over the bars.

Zheng tugged at his cuffs and sighed.

****

Tolan walked out of the brig and met Gage in the passageway. Tolan slipped Gage’s tunic off and handed it back to the Commodore, who was wearing only an undershirt, his boots and trousers. Tolan waggled Gage’s own eyebrows at him.

“How do I look?” Tolan’s voice cracked as it shifted back to his usual tone.

“Unsettling.” Gage slipped his top back on. “Don’t make a habit of pretending to be me. More important question is if he knew who he was really talking to, and if he was telling the truth. I would have rather spoken to him myself instead of relying on your ruse.”

“And put you at risk of some Daegon assassination device he might still have on him? Sorry, Regent, but your life is more valuable than mine at this juncture. So it falls on me. From my professional experience in intelligence, he gave up some good information. We can’t just ask the Daegon to leave Albion nicely. Not really sure why you ever thought that would work.”

“I figured, but now we know they will never relent. Best we cut out the cancer once and for all at Albion, else we’ll continue to suffer…I’m not even sure I can get the rest of the League to help me liberate our home. What’s the chance they’ll send fleets into wild space when Albion can buffer against the enemy?”

“They wouldn’t do that before the Daegon,” Tolan huffed. “So the liberation’s going to be even that much more difficult.”

“It was never going to be easy. There’s no guarantee it will even happen. You saw how many of their ships escaped the Oculus system. What I command isn’t enough to win an engagement—unless I become a lot more brilliant commander and the Daegon put fools on their bridges.”

“That’s not how they operate. We’re not at war with the Rei—Francia. Francia,” Tolan said, looking over both shoulders.

“Keep talking with him, just not as me. We’ve got a long slip journey back to Lantau,” Gage said.

****

Gage removed his boots and set them next to a side door in his quarters. Portsmouth  academy graduates polished their own boots out of pride and tradition (Sanquay graduates had the pocket money to contract the service out), but as regent and Commodore, he left the task to Emma so he could focus on other matters.

Sitting at a small holo table, he pulled up a simulation of the Albion system and rocked back and forth for a moment, his eyes closing of their own volition as sleep tried to claim him.

“Sire?” Emma’s voice was close to his ear.

Gage jerked to one side, startled.

Emma smiled at him, faint bruises from the battle at the Cathay Emperor’s “guest house” still fading from her face.

“Mmm? Yes?” Gage rubbed sleep from his eyes. “How did you sneak in here? Where’s Thorvald?”

“He’s still in the galley. I fixed him up some of the fondue Genevans are always so excited about. It’s just melted cheese and bread.” She rolled her eyes. “But he did clear your tea and biscuits.”

She set a steaming pot and a half-dozen small confections on a plate to one side of the holo table.

“Ah…caffeine.” Gage picked up one of the biscuits. “How many of these do we have left?”

Emma squeezed her hands against her abdomen.

“Beggin’ your pardon, sire, but we’re out of fresh fruit for a proper Pimm’s scone and the clotted cream’s gone too sour for anyone’s taste. Would you like some sandwiches? I might not lose any fingers if I purloin some of that cheese Thorvald was—”

Gage put a hand on her forearm. “There’s no need. I was thinking I’d host the ship commanders before the next major operation. A proper taste of home. It’s not like we can order up this brand of biscuit these days. An old tradition,” Gage said, smiling slightly.

“Then you just give Master Bertram and I a few hours’ warning and we’ll have apricot scones and cucumber sandwiches and…and don’t tell the other captains but the Indus have some excellent teas and Bertram’s made friends with Admiral Birbal’s body man so the brews will be a bit fresher…pound cake! Do you fancy pound cake, sire?” Her eyes lit up with possibilities.

“I’ll defer to your tastes. You and Bertram won’t let us down.” Gage held his biscuit over a teacup and hesitated before dunking it in.

“Did the King ever do this?” he asked no one.

“I wouldn’t know, sire. Can I get you anything else?” She took a step back.

“No, thank you.” Gage set the biscuit aside and activated a tactical overlay in the holo. He plugged in Daegon ship numbers and began adding Albion ships to the simulation. He sipped his tea as the computer ran through battle after battle. He adjusted parameters several times, adding more ships from other navies.

The side door opened behind him and he tensed up. There was a pitter-patter of small feet and a flop onto his bed. Gage shifted his chair around. Prince Aidan was cuddled up against a pillow, his hair wild, eyes puffy from crying.

Aidan whimpered. Salis was at the door in her Genevan armor.

“Everything alright, my Prince?” Gage asked.

“Bad dreams,” the boy said.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Want to talk about it?” Gage reached for his plate of uneaten biscuits and offered it to Aidan. The boy’s nostrils twitched, then he took one and clutched it to his chest.

“Salis won’t let me have snacks after bedtime. She says it’ll rot my teeth,” Aidan whispered.

“As regent of Albion, I grant you a one-time snack exception. Be my guest,” Gage said.

“OK!” Aidan sat up and gave Salis a dirty look then took an exaggerated bite from the biscuit. “What’re you doing up so late?”

“Is it late? I’m working, and as Commodore I must work until the work is done…which it never is. There is simply the decision of what’s the most important thing to work on at the moment, and what can wait for later. Right now, I’m considering how to fight the Daegon and take our home back.” Gage moved his chair so he could see the boy and the holo at the same time.

“When is that going to happen? Maybe tomorrow?” Aidan brushed crumbs off his pajamas.

“Not for a while. Not right away.” Gage doubled the size of the Daegon fleet and rubbed his chin as the war game played out again.

“Then why are you doing it now? Is it that important? You could be sleeping,” Aidan said.

“So could you.” Gage wagged a finger at him. “This battle will be…will be the most important in Albion’s history. The better I plan for it, the more likely that we’ll win. If I wait too long, then the plan will be poor and our sailors and Marines will have a tougher time of it.”

“Why don’t you take a break? Play some games and have fun?” Aidan dug a finger into the jelly center of a biscuit and stuck the strawberry preserves into his mouth.

“Alas, my Prince, we are in charge. We have a duty and responsibility to our people to lead them as best we can…to save them,” Gage said. “There is no one else but us.”

Aidan considered this for a moment. “Then maybe I shouldn’t have toys anymore. Maybe I should just learn from you how to be king.”

Gage chuckled. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about being king, but sometimes I have an idea how to be a commander. Don’t throw your toys away just yet—it’s good to be a little boy while you can. You’ll know when it’s time to set childhood things aside,” he said.

“So how will I learn how to be king? Who’s going to teach me?” Aidan asked as he finished his snack.

“That’s…that we can wait on.” Gage laced his fingers behind his head and frowned at the war game. “I only met your father…your father…once, but Albion has a long tradition of what’s expected from the royals and the royals know what they’re to do. Just ask King Charles I or Richard Cromwell what they should’ve done to keep things under control. Tradition can be learned and—why aren’t I factoring in the Bismarck? If I had his guns as a counterpunch over Ufernau, then I could send two squadrons to…”

Gage looked up at Aidan, who’d fallen asleep and was snoring slightly. Salis walked over, her footfalls nearly silent despite her heavy armor.

“I’ll carry him back,” she said.

“This is a mistake,” Gage said. “Why is he still here? On the Orion, I mean. He’s in danger. He’s the future and I’m putting him at risk. This ship cannot hang back during the next fight, or at any fight.”

“This is the most heavily armed and armored ship in the fleet. It is the best place for him,” the Genevan said.

“She’s a target. It’s the worst place for his safety.” Gage touched the boy’s head. “There’s so much to regret with this war. But if he’s ever…I could never forgive myself.”

“Every other ship in the Albion fleet offers less protection,” Salis said. “The Bismarck is more defensible, but moving him to there comes with its own problems.”

Gage snorted. “Stowing the future king aboard a Reich ship. I’d have a mutiny before you and Aidan could even board the transfer shuttle. I might trust the Indus, but we’ll be far from their territory once we reach Lantau. No easy answers. No easy decisions.”

“I have accessed a number of childcare documents. His limited socialization options can be detrimental to his development. I am not…I am not trained in child-rearing. The stewards assigned to him do what they can, but neither of them have children or know how to raise one who’s gone through such trauma as him.” Salis slid her arms under the boy and lifted him gently. “I’ll return him to his quarters.”

“Thank you.” Gage watched them leave then returned to his small holo table where simulations played out over and over again. Every single one of them ended in the total loss of the Albion fleet.

Gage leaned forward and cradled his face in his hands.

Chapter 5

Baroness Asaria remained as still as she could on her throne. The polydermis metal over her body moved according to a pattern derived from cosmic background radiation and not her own neural inputs or her mood. The polydermis was prohibitively expensive, an accoutrement that only the richest Daegon could afford, but to give it free reign to react as it was designed would give away too much to the nobles and lords assembled before her.

Her sanctum atop a stepped pyramid within the royal barge the Sphinx was designed to invoke awe in those granted access by her whim. The shield dome overhead was pristine and perfect, offering a view of the fading twilight above New Exeter. Daegon ships hung in the atmosphere around the Sphinx, forming concentric bulwarks to protect the royal barge. The city below was a patchwork of lit-up blocks and darkness, a testament to the damage Albion’s capital took during its fall.

She’d summoned her senior officers and court to her for the meeting. Many bore fresh scars as well as medals and other trinkets seized from feral militaries and rulers. They faced off against an equal number from House Yasuda. The new arrivals’ armor was lacquer black, each armed with a pair of swords and demonic half masks over their faces.

Yasuda bore no scars, no trophies. Asaria needed the disparity to be clear to them. Her warriors had bled and conquered across the stars. Yasuda had not. Not yet.

“Our forward-deployed classis are at an operational pause.” Antonius, her highest-ranked general, raised a hand and a holo field appeared over his head. “Classis Impetum will arrive here in the next four days for repair and refit. Classis Proelium is fighting a rear-guard action against the Indus in the Bombay and Lawda systems. The loss of the navigation buoy…”

Asaria kept her attention on the Yasuda House leader. She’d invited all three of the Yasuda lords to this meeting. Not inviting them all and their retinue would be a slight, hinting that she was preparing an assassination, and Asaria didn’t particularly blame them. It was exactly what she would have suspected. The Yasuda kept his eyes on Asaria, not the briefing.

“Ferals pressed into service have proven to be…uneven,” Antonius said. The dark leather of his greatcoat creaked as he lifted a hand to the holo and a star cluster blinked. “The assault on the Cathay axis has faltered. Losses are—”

The Yasuda lord snapped a fist up next to his helmet. Antonius flinched back like a dog about to be hit.

“Lord Kodakai?” Asaria slowly moved her fingertips to controls hidden in the arm of her throne. One gesture would annihilate the Yasuda contingent—and several of her officers—in fire, but she’d survive to see the dawn.

“I have had enough of this one’s obfuscations.” Kodakai moved to the stairs leading up to her throne and put one foot on the lowest step. “Your re-conquest of the ferals has faltered. You cannot take any more worlds as resistance mounts. This was expected. This was the plan. House Asaria as the vanguard. Then House Yasuda as the next wave, crashing across the stars like a typhoon…”

A nervous sweat began across Asaria’s body.

“But I was only able to bring a fraction.” Kodakai’s eyes trembled with rage. “Barely a tenth of our strength! The work of generations was lost because your House failed in its duty! The Oculus was your responsibility!”

Kodakai snapped his half mask off on one side and spat on the stairs.

Her officers should have attacked at the instant of the insult, but Cleon, her spymaster, held an arm out and stifled any response.

“There has been a failing in my House’s writ,” Asaria said. “You demand satisfaction?”

“We will have it. Now! My clans demand blood for this disaster.” Kodakai put one hand on the handle of his katana.

Cleon glanced at Asaria, waiting for the signal to intervene. Asaria rose slowly and made her way down the steps, her polydermis shifting over her body.

“By our laws, I am in no place to deny you.” She held a palm toward Kodakai, her fingers bent slightly. The liquid metal brought a golden box from behind her neck down her arm, moving in pulses in time with her heart.

She felt her officers and court go tense.

“The Daegon are predicated on two things,” she said. “Our superiority over the ferals, and our dedication to maintaining the natural order. Our writs make our duties clear, and to fail is to undermine everything we are.”

Kodakai reached for the golden box. Asaria snatched her hand back.

“He is mine,” she said. “Mine to do with as I see fit.”

“We are waiting.” Kodakai bowed ever so slightly and stood aside.

Asaria reached toward a circle between the two groups. There was a faint vibration as a portal opened and Tiberian rose up on a small platform. He was stripped down to a loincloth, his hands and arms bound with chains, his ankles shackled to the platform.

His face was firm and there was a twinkle in his eyes. One side of his mouth pulled into a barely perceptible smile. She gave him a sultry look and ran her hand up his arm to his neck.

“I do love being your bait,” Tiberian whispered to her.

Asaria’s hand snapped to her side and the polydermis snatched out and grabbed Kodakai’s smaller sword, his wakizashi, by the handle. She slashed the blade across Tiberian’s abdomen.

A gout of blood splattered to the floor. Tiberian tried to grab his guts as they spilled out from the fresh wound, but his manacles kept his arms tight against his body. Tiberian hacked bloody phlegm against Asaria’s chest and fell to his knees.

He looked at Asaria with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Such things are necessary. No one wants a hunter who cannot catch anything.” Asaria held the hand with the writ over Tiberian’s head. Cleon and Antonius grabbed Tiberian by the face and forced his mouth open.

The liquid metal on her body congealed around her fist and glowed with heat.

“Wait…wait,” Tiberian croaked.

Molten gold dripped from her fingers and into Tiberian’s mouth. The first drop hit Tiberian’s teeth and the bone popped from the heat. The next drop hit the back of his throat and bloody steam puffed out of his mouth. Tiberian trembled as rivulets of gold poured from her grasp and down his throat.

He never screamed. Asaria took some pride in her lover’s final moments.

Cleon flung Tiberian onto his back as flesh snapped and popped. A cauldron of bubbling blood formed in Tiberian’s mouth as his eyes liquefied and ran down the sides of his head.

Asaria reached the wakizashi across her body then flicked it at Kodakai. The blade flew straight into the scabbard with a click.

“Satisfied?” Asaria asked him.

“His death does not return my last armada,” Kodakai said, “but by our laws, the scales between our Houses are balanced.”

“Then let us move on.” Asaria took the steps back up to her throne and sat, her legs crossed. “Let us discuss matters of the future instead of assigning blame for the past.”

The Yasuda lords grumbled.

“The High Houses gave you a writ to set the stage for my House and the others who would follow on months from now,” Kodakai said. “The ferals should have been shattered by now—their leaders at each other’s throats from the efforts of your Specters and their fleets destroyed. Instead, your offensives have stalled and this League of theirs appears to be functioning as intended: to unite them all against a common threat!”

“The League was little more than an afterthought to the ferals,” Cleon said. “It never acted as intended and my Specters sowed division between the powers for decades. That they—”

Kodakai turned his gaze slowly toward the spy. “No one spoke to you. Do you want your writ scrutinized?” The lord brushed a hand toward Tiberian’s smoldering corpse.

Cleon shut his mouth.

“Again, we must look to the future,” Asaria said. “The Oculus can be rebuilt. House Yasuda’s losses can be…compensated. Our writs remain.”

“How am I to beat ferals to their knees with only a fraction of my fleet?” Kodakai shouted.

“This has been the work of centuries,” Asaria’s voice hardened. “We prepared for this, our final conquest. Our rightful return to rule the ferals. Let us not pretend that setbacks were impossible or unanticipated. Our work will continue. It is time for us to consolidate.”

“The ferals will rally at the news of the Oculus,” Cleon said. “They can convince themselves that they have the momentum, that we are vulnerable. We can exploit this.”

“How is that perception different from reality?” Kodakai asked.

“We’ve masked our true strength on each axis of advance through feral territory,” Antonius said. “Cycled squadrons on the offensive for repair and resupply. We will pull back most of our forward-deployed combat vessels and leave a token force to harass and delay the ferals from redeploying against us.”

“That accomplishes little. The ferals will break through as soon as they realize House Asaria has abandoned their conquests,” Kodakai said.

“Albion is a natural fortress,” Asaria said. “There are few slip lines into and out of the seat of my holdings. We will hold here until we rebuild the Oculus. There are several other potential anchors back to the home stars, all of them in what they call wild space. Weakly held and difficult for the ferals to reach.”

“You’re proposing a delay that will last decades.” Kodakai’s eyes narrowed.

“A delay that leads to our final victory,” Asaria said. “House Yasuda’s abilities are well-known, but your capabilities have been cut short.”

Kodakai glanced back at Tiberian’s body. The smell of burnt flesh and copper wafted up from the corpse’s mouth.

“The ferals are like any animal. When they see something weak, they will attack,” Cleon said. “We invite the attack and destroy them…then reopen the path back to the other Houses. Time will be on our side.”

“You’d sue for peace with them,” Kodakai sneered.

“Necessary for our final victory.” Asaria teased the tip of her hair. “They’ve suffered. They will want the dying to stop. We draw them in to an ambush and we will dictate the terms, continue our covert operations to subvert their efforts.”

“And what of my House?” Kodakai asked. “There is a tithe to pay to pass through your territory. You will drain us to nothing the longer we’re your guests.”

“We can arrange something mutually beneficial.” Asaria shrugged. “Let us prepare a strike against the ferals that will send them whimpering back to their holes. We will put them all under the collar and the lash in good time.”

Chapter 6

“Keep the home fires…burning,” Wyman sang and raised a plastic cup to the ceiling. He wore a wig of curly wisps of plastic on his head, and a bunch of skinny chains with thin metal disks hung around his neck, clinking against each other as he was dragged down a passageway by his collar.

“While yer hearts are yearnin’. Though we lads are far…far somethin’,” Wyman slurred as he brought the wobbly cup to his lips. Bits of ice and amber liquid spilled down the sides of his mouth. “Oh no’s…I’s got a drinkin’ problem.”

Lieutenant Colonel Yvez stopped and braced Wyman against her leg. She panted for a moment and shook her head.

“You are drunk as a skunk, Freak Show,” she said. “I suggest you stop imbibing before someone hits you with a liver reset and your body expels all the alcohol still in your stomach and bloodstream.”

“We dream of home,” Wyman crooned. “There’s a silver linin’ through the dark clouds…shinin’.”

“Oh no. I mean, hello, ma’am!” Ivor stuck her head into the passageway from her quarters. “What happened to him?”

“Turn the dark cloud out-out-inside to inside. I mean out. Out the side.” Wyman drank again and got most of it on his chest. “’Til the boys—no, tha’s me—’til I come home!”

“Captain Wyman’s promotion ceremony got out of hand,” Yvez said. “It seems the alcohol rations were misallocated and the attendees decided to drink the supplies before the excess supply was returned to the quartermaster.  Help me drag him to his bunk.”

“What? There was free booze? It must’ve got there after I went down for a nap and…is there any left? Ma’am?”

Yvez stared daggers at Ivor.

“I mean…let me help you with him. You know he was almost too big to be a fighter pilot? I think they had to grease him up the first time he had a solo flight.” Ivor tied the sleeves of her flight suit around her waist and grabbed the other side of Wyman’s collar.

“Men are always heavier when they’re drunk,” Yvez said. “He did well against the Oculus, else I’d be more perturbed with him right now.”

“Briar!” Wyman held up his nearly empty cup. “You better finis’ this or I’ll tell Harpy all the stick butt…butt with stick…all those stick-up-her-butt jokes you make about her.”

Ivor froze. She looked at Yvez and shook her head like she had no idea what Wyman was talking about.

“Freak! You’re drunk. Shut your mouth.” Ivor shook him by the collar.

“Just keep going,” Yvez said. “Briar…I grasp the meaning behind your call sign. Briar. Briar Rose. Your enthusiasm for crew rest. A reference to the Sleeping Beauty fairy tale. This is all consistent and logical. Captain Wyman’s call sign is not consistent and logical. Why is he called ‘Freak Show’?”

Ivor blushed. “Well…I’ve only heard,” Ivor said.

“Why is the ceilin’ movin’ if I’m not…movin’?” Wyman mumbled.

“The other male pilots at flight school gave him the call sign because of what they saw…in the showers.” Ivor went even redder.

“I don’t follow,” Yvez said.

“His uhh…” Ivor brought a hand up to shield one side of her face. “It’s enormous.”

“What is ‘enormous’? I don’t foll—oh!” Yvez brought a hand up to her mouth and glanced over Wyman. “That’s him? I heard rumors but…I thought boys had a strict no-looking policy in the showers.”

“Funny how every time some dude’s told the tale they caveat with ‘I wasn’t paying attention, but…’ So yeah. His locker room full of men find it impressive and those guys were OK with knowing they were—what did they call it? ‘Meat gazing.’ It’s a problem for me because some of the Orion’s female sailors think I can confirm or deny if it’s true.”

Yvez stopped and looked at her for a moment.

“Which I can’t!” Ivor rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to ask about that. ‘Hey there, wingman. Sure glad we survived that sortie against the Daegon. By the way, is it really…” She held up two fingertips and adjusted the distance by a several inches.

“I’ve flown on Crusader’s wing for over a decade and I’d never ask about something like that,” Yvez said. “Is his bunk on the bottom, at least?”

“Roger, ma’am.” Ivor opened a quarter’s door with a whack from her elbow on a control panel. They dragged Wyman over the threshold and hefted him onto his bunk. Yvez turned his head to lay slightly over the edge of his mattress, mouth angled to the deck.

Yvez made to leave but paused in the doorway.

“We never discussed the origin of his call sign. I will deny it if asked,” she said over her shoulder.

“Fine by me, ma’am.” Ivor pressed her hands to the tops of her knees, huffing from the effort of dragging Wyman. The door closed and Ivor sat next to his feet.

“Good job.” She gave his shin a pat. “The second-best fighter pilot in the entire Albion Navy now knows you’re packing a meat missile. I don’t know what you’re going to do with this information. You know what, I won’t mention it to you when you sober up.”

“Briar…Briar, you there?” Wyman lifted his head slightly.

“I’m here, buddy.”

“I love…I love you!” Wyman said and then projectile vomited across the deck.

“Oh no!” Ivor raised her boots. “Goddamn it, Freak! Harpy? Harpy, come back! Sweet Jesus what were you drinking?” She mashed the back of her hand against her nose.

Wyman snored, greenish rivulets from his nose and mouth waggling with each exhalation.

“This isn’t fair.” Ivor slammed her hands against the mattress. “This isn’t fair!”

****

Gage tugged at the cuffs of his dress gloves. He wore a bright-red tunic, white sword belt, and black trousers and boots shined to a mirror reflection. The rows of medals and ribbons weren’t as extensive as an Albion flag officer normally wore, but he hadn’t the time or inclination to award himself anything since the Daegon invasion began.

Thorvald shared the lift with him. The Genevan was as stoic and still as ever. His full body armor bore several dents and gouges.

“You haven’t tried to talk me out of this,” Gage said. “Back into the mouth of the lion, as the Cathay say.”

“The security situation has changed,” Thorvald said. “And we’re not going to the Emperor’s sanctum this time. Your honor guard is significantly larger and better armed as well.”

“It’s still a planet full of billions of Cathay. I’m well aware and appreciative of your abilities, but quantity has a quality all its own,” Gage said. “Granted, our reputation has changed since our last visit.”

“Are you trying to talk yourself out of this?” Thorvald asked.

“My duties as Commodore and regent require me to set foot on worlds where there are plenty of unfriendly individuals who wish me dead or injured. I prefer my ship, where at least I can see my enemies. Usually. What are the odds I can visit Lantau this time and return to the Orion without a stab wound?”

“I will protect you to my last dying breath…the informal crew betting pool has you at 5/4 you’ll shed blood during this mission,” Thorvald said.

“My sailors have that little faith in me?” Gage chuckled.

“Your blood, or others. Again, I will protect you—”

“I know. I know.” Gage raised a hand. “Is there an injury bonus in your contract?”

“No,” the Genevan said. “They took that out decades ago. Some employers didn’t want to incur the cost and left their guards behind at events where they thought would be safe, which resulted in dead employers that had no one to blame but themselves.”

“There is the risk we’re taking by dint of our travel companions.” Gage set a hand on the pommel of his sword.

“They are on your side. On everyone’s side…this time,” Thorvald said.

“People don’t forget.” Gage stepped through the lift doors as they opened.

“Deck, atten-shun!” a boson called out. The sound of hundreds of heels clicking together resonated through the shuttle bay. A small formation of armsmen stood next to the lowered ramp of a shuttle. A half dozen of the King’s Own squadron shared the bay, the pilots in their cockpits, helmets removed in a show of respect. A cordon of sailors lined the path from the lift to the shuttle.

“As you were,” Gage said and began his walk toward the shuttle. Sailors peeled off as he passed them in the cordon. He stopped in front of a tall young man in a brand-new formal uniform designed to incorporate flak armor. The soldier’s skin had a slight green sheen to it.

“Able Voidsman Seaver, I presume,” Gage said.

“Sir.” Seaver brought his rifle up and presented it in salute.

“At ease. I haven’t made the time to properly thank you for coming to my rescue on Lantau,” Gage said. “Forgive me. You and the rest of Mr. Tolan’s team saved myself and several others. Your bravery was exceptional. That you’ve carried on through the invasion and being forced to fight for the Daegon speaks well of your upbringing and of every Albion fighting man.” Gage put a hand on Seaver’s shoulder. “Well done, lad. But I’m afraid that I must ask more of you in the coming weeks and months.”

“Albion’s light burns, sir. I’ve seen…I’ve seen what they do to us. Liberty or death,” Seaver said, his face hardening.

“Our liberty. Their death.” Gage gave him a short nod, then marched up the shuttle ramp. A pair of Reich officers sat toward the fore of the cargo bay lined with seats. Another Genevan stood between them and Gage.

“Count von Trapp, Captain Klaven,” Gage said, unbuckling his sword belt and laying the weapon across his lap as he sat on a chair catty-corner from them. They also had their dress swords—peace strings attached over the guard—in hand or leaning against their knee. “I appreciate you joining me.”

The honor guard filed into the cargo bay as the crew continued pre-flight checks.

“The Reich and Albion, allies at last.” Klaven gave Gage a nervous smile. “Hasn’t always been this way…”

“And the Kongs should be less likely to fool around with your safety while we’re with you,” von Trapp said, scratching the dueling scar that ran down the side of his face. “Not that your honor guard isn’t capable, but any aggression toward me is aggression toward Kaiserina Washington herself.”

“Toward me as well.” Klaven raised a finger. “Right? I’m part of the royal family. I’m rather down the list of potential successors but—”

“You’re farther down than the last time you checked,” von Trapp said. “The Kaiserina does not appreciate her captains committing the Reich to conflicts without her expressed approval. Even if the right thing was done.”

The shuttle jostled slightly as the ramp closed and it lifted out of the Orion.

“The Reich isn’t a member of the League,” Gage said. “By protocol, the only way I could get you into the meeting chamber was to claim you three as my staff. Things may be…awkward.”

“The sight of the Bismarck and the Castle Itter in orbit are proof enough that the Reich is not to be trifled with, or ignored,” von Trapp said. “The Cathay eunuch you have in your brig proves that the Daegon were responsible for the bombing of the Treaty of Reuilley. A crime that was blamed on my people before the smoke even cleared. I’d appreciate apologies from certain delegates, but being proven innocent is better than any crow they might eat.”

“Why not bring that treacherous old Kong fart to the council?” Klaven asked. “Prove that the Daegon have infiltrated us over decades. Star nations might have an excuse to bury the hatchet for recent conflicts. Scout ship went missing in disputed territory? Must’ve been the Daegon. Trade dispute bogged down by legalese? Daegon bureaucrats lost the paperwork. There’s so much upside when there’s a plausible scapegoat. The League can blame someone other than the Reich for their problems.”

“The Emperor made it clear that Zheng is never to leave Albion custody,” Gage said. “The prisoner knows too much about sensitive Cathay issues. Issues which may prove difficult for the Emperor should they become common knowledge.”

“And any of that which Zheng may disclose to you can be brushed off as ‘Albion propaganda’ should it filter back to the Cathay,” von Trapp said. “It will be interesting to see how long the Emperor can hold on to power without Zheng.”

“There is an existential threat to the empire now,” Klaven said. “Perhaps that will prompt some unity.”

“That is not how Cathay politics normally play out,” Gage said. “Politicians and military officers have a tendency to cut a deal in the face of invasion to maintain their own little fiefdoms. As the Protectorate of Manchuria systems within Reich space can attest.”

“We were liberators,” von Trapp said, raising his nose slightly. “Besides, that issue was settled with a treaty…Let me clear something up with you, Gage.”

“I’m listening.” Gage set the tip of his scabbard between his feet, his hands against the pommel.

“The Reich does not shed blood without purpose. We do not feed our future—our brave young soldiers and sailors—to the grinder of war without consideration of what that sacrifice will bring. You have our two ships as of now, you may have more. The Kaiserina is a wise woman and I anticipate that she will heed my recommendation for an all-out war against the invaders.”

Von Trapp sat back and drummed his fingertips against his knees.

“You expect that the Reich’s position amongst the other star nations will change in return for your involvement.” Gage nodded slowly. “The economic sanctions since your annexation of Francia have been severe.”

“They’re not that bad,” Klaven smirked. “You wouldn’t believe what we can funnel through Kong cutouts and—”

“And the Reich’s willingness to fight and die beside the League demonstrates that we are not the same Reich as was ruled by Kaiser Washington XXII. But if we’re going to be treated like pariahs after we defeat the Daegon…then all the blood we shed will be for nothing,” von Trapp said.

“If the League is less than willing to change its relationship with the Reich, then you will withhold more ships to protect against the Daegon. The League bleeds itself white to defeat the invaders, then you’ll be in a strong position to resolve every other border conflict you have,” Gage said. “I can only speak for Albion. Do you still study the Bard?”

“‘For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother…be he never so vile,’” Klaven said. Von Trapp raised an eyebrow at his cousin.

“Albion and the Reich are no longer enemies. I have no wish for any war after the Daegon are defeated. We will normalize relations through all the usual pomp and circumstance once this is done. Until then I will defend Reich honor as Albion’s,” Gage said. “The League be damned. Albion knows who stood with us in this time and who will skulk in the shadows, waiting to clutch onto the side about to win.”

“The Daegon haven’t built up much goodwill.” Klaven scratched his chin. “I heard the Rosstafarians sent a delegation to this conference.”

“What? Montego Bay is many months away by hard bore. There’s no way they’ve had the time to send ambassadors, much less have even heard of it by now,” von Trapp said.

“Not the Rastafarians.” Klaven shook his head. “The Rosstafarians. A religious offshoot from some late twentieth-century artist. Total pacifists. More of an art commune. Very soft-spoken people…ridiculous perms. They’re not sending troops, but they’ve donated a number of paintings to be auctioned off to support refugees. The Kaiserina has one of the cult founder’s originals hanging up in the Austin Palace.”

“Ah yes, The Grandeur of Summer. Beautiful piece,” von Trapp said. “Rapoto, is it true that the Rosstafarians are pacifists? Hate to defeat the Daegon and then have to deal with a fleet of ships with the Alizarin Crimson or the Phthalo Blue leading them.”

“They’re not on our client list,” said Rapoto, Klaven’s Genevan guard.

“I’m afraid that we must focus on war and diplomacy so our children may study art and history,” Gage said. “The Reich’s terms of cooperation are clear and acceptable. The other star nations may be more difficult to convince.”

“They certainly all came together against the Reich,” von Trapp said. “Which just so happened to coincide with Kaiser Washington XXII reaching the end of his territorial ambitions.”

“What a coincidence,” Gage said, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes, a happy little accident.” Von Trapp flicked a thumb against the pommel of his sword. It clicked against the scabbard and peace strings. “Perhaps the Rosstafarians will bring some of their vaunted harmony and peace to the League meeting.”

Klaven gave him a strange look.

“A man can hope, an officer prepares,” Gage said.

****

A rumble sounded through the hallway as Gage followed a few steps behind Thorvald. Gage cocked an ear up, unsure if the Cathay escorts had sent him to a concert or to the League chambers. Von Trapp and Klaven were to his left, Rapoto and the Albion honor guard contingent to his right.

“Mmm…this might have been a poor decision,” von Trapp said.

“Want me to represent the Reich, cousin?” Klaven asked.

“There are worse decisions.” Von Trapp looked over his uniform and brushed away dust.

Gage stopped several yards from a pair of Cathay guards standing on either side of a set of double doors. Thorvald conferred with them for a moment then stepped back, never taking his attention off the guards.

The doors opened out to the bottom level of the League meeting chamber. The rumble increased to a din of shouting voices. The seats in the tiers were full of bickering ambassadors and their staffs, the occasional silver-armored Genevan standing out in stark contrast to the civilians and military.

Holo screens showing the Daegon occupation of settled space hung high over a raised podium in the center of the chamber. Gage didn’t wait for the crowd to die down as he marched up to the podium, his rank epaulettes and medals catching the overhead lights. He stood quietly as the crowd slowly realized he was there and a silence fell across the tiers.

“Assembled League members.” Gage raised his chin slightly. “Honored guests. I am Commodore Thomas Gage. Commander in chief of all Albion Star Kingdom forces and regent to the throne. Albion rallied the free nations of humanity to form this League at the end of the Reach Wars to stand against aggression. To become a bulwark against tyranny and those who would subjugate humanity to their own selfish desires.

“And it was Albion that fell to the Daegon. In an unprovoked attack from a people…from monsters beyond the Veil. The Daegon bombarded our cities. Murdered our leaders.” Gage fought down emotion as Prince Aidan’s sad eyes and weeping came to him. “Enslaved our people. They continued their conquest against the Cathay. The Indus. The Independent Star of Concord. The Biafra Republic and the Weber Freehold.

“The Daegon have one consistent message. ‘Novis regiray. You will be ruled.’ Their assault continues without mercy and without cause. They will come for every nation in the League, and every world not under their control. They will come for you. They will come for your people.

“I have fought the Daegon. I’ve come face-to-face with their leaders, seen their cruelty and devastation firsthand. I have fought them…and I have beat them!”

The holo walls changed to show multiple angles of the Oculus as it was torn apart from within. Gasps sounded through the ambassadors as they realized just how large the installation was, and the enormous technological and military prowess it took to build such a device.

“The Daegon are demons from our past. Slave masters and self-appointed lords that they claim once ruled all of humanity. They fled beyond the Veil shortly before the Mount Edziza Disaster and they have been plotting their return—and our subjugation—ever since. Albion was the first to fall, but it was Albion, along with our Cathay, Indus and Reich—yes, the Reich!—allies that destroyed the Oculus and cut the Daegon off from their home worlds.”

Gage swiped on a screen and a local galactic map appeared next to the loop of the Oculus’ destruction.

“Slip travel was once thought impossible through the Veil, but the Daegon made a way. After our recent victory, it will take decades for the Daegon to circumnavigate the Veil. I struck at the Oculus as soon as I learned of it,” one corner of his mouth twitched and he fought the urge to look over to the Cathay Emperor, “and as soon as I was free to do so.

“We have a victory!” Gage beat a fist against the podium. “We have cut the Daegon off, but they are still a threat to us. To all of us. We must strike now. Strike the Daegon everywhere we can and free our worlds before our people are reduced to little more than slaves.”

“You exaggerate.” A woman stood up on a midlevel tier and lighting around her seat grew. She wore a simple gray tunic and trousers. Her hands were bare metal augmentations, her face split down the center with one side flesh and bone, the other a perfect mechanical recreation of her countenance. One eye glowed from within. “These Daegon can’t be as terrible as you let on. They are simply another rogue nation. Devastating worlds they conquer is counterintuitive to any expansionist group and these tales of yours of what they do to those under their control…are difficult to believe.”

“Thank you, Ambassador Kyron of the Mechanix…I have a witness.” Gage looked over his shoulder, then pointed to his honor guard. Seaver handed off his weapon to another armsman and took a few halting steps toward the podium.

Gage waved him forward and caught the young man before he could take the stage.

“Sir, I don’t know what to say to…to the whole galaxy.” Seaver gnawed on his lower lip in anxiety.

“You’re far braver than any of them, son,” Gage said. “Just continue to be brave for a few minutes.”

Gage and Seaver stood shoulder to shoulder at the podium. Gage waited a moment until the ambassadors began rumbling at Seaver’s green skin and bulky frame.

“This is James Seaver,” Gage said. “Until a few months ago, he was like any other Albion teenager. Then he was captured by the Daegon and…reshaped. Let any doubters send a medical drone to examine him, or I’ll provide a live scan myself.”

Kyron lifted a mechanical hand and a small drone popped out of the back of it. The drone floated down to Seaver and circled him slowly, twisting around as different sensors scanned the young man. Seaver’s biometric profile appeared in the holo walls. Gage accessed a file and a picture of Seaver from before his time in service with the Daegon appeared. Even for Gage, it was difficult to comprehend the difference between who Seaver was now and who he had been.

“Albion has strict laws adhering to the Vitruvian Accords. Notice the implants in his brain and his adrenal glands. Illegal in Albion. We do not have the technology used to…to—forgive me, son. We do not have the technology that was used to mutilate him. The Daegon did this to him. They implanted a gene-coded narcotic dependence that would kill him from withdrawals if he isn’t injected with an antidote every other day. Thankfully, members of the Albion Intelligence Ministry obtained a sample of that antidote and were able to synthesize it. Have you ever seen anything like this, Madam Ambassador?”

Data scrolled across Kyron’s augmented eye.

“This technology…is beyond my people’s capabilities. And it is beyond what we consider acceptable enhancement.” She sat down.

“How many others did the Daegon do this to?” Gage asked.

“Th-thousands,” Seaver choked slightly. “They forced men and women from Albion to fight as little more than cannon fodder. Some of us were chosen for this.” Seaver held up his unnaturally hued and sized hands. “We complied or we died.”

“This is base savagery that we’ve never seen before,” Gage said.

“But you’ve beaten them,” Emperor Yinghao said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “They’re cut off. They cannot hold what they’ve conquered.”

A tactical overlay appeared on the holo walls showing Daegon ship counts in contested systems dropping over several days.

“They’re falling back,” the Emperor said. “We’re in a position to negotiate.”

Gage’s jaw clenched. He gave Seaver a pat on the shoulder and he returned to the tunnel.

“What is there to negotiate?” Gage asked. “Shall we ask the Daegon to abandon the worlds they’ve conquered? To give up ‘novis regiray,’ their command to us to be ruled by them? Do you want to wait while every last human being behind Daegon lines is reshaped into mindless, helpless slaves under their whip? To leave billions in chains!”

Anger roiled from the crowd and the Emperor slinked back into his throne.

“The Daegon infiltrated us, maneuvered us into wars and acrimony against each other,” Gage continued. “They will be a cancer, gnawing at us from within and assaulting us from without unless we cut them out! We must attack them now, while they’re falling back. While the moment is ours to end this here and now.”

“The Indus second the motion.” Admiral Birbal stood up from his place in the tiers. “We must attack and attack now.”

“We must consider the future ramifications of this.” A much younger eunuch than Zheng spoke up for the Emperor. “What if Indus forces drive the Daegon from our occupied worlds? Will they abandon any claim on those systems?”

Gage stifled a sigh. “May I remind the Cathay representative of…” Gage glanced down at a screen, “Article 94, Section A, Subparagraph 37? ‘All settled worlds, economic advantages and undisputed territorial claims registered with the League are intrinsic parts of member nations unless formally divested and transferred during League sessions.’ What was yours remains yours once the Daegon are driven out. Is any member proposing a change to the League charter?”

Gage’s hands clenched into fists. He hoped no one in the chamber was that stupid, but he’d had to lower his expectations of politicians a lot as of late.

Silence.

The Emperor raised a paper fan folded into an ivory stick and struck the eunuch on the back of the head. There was fast-paced Cathay for a moment then all sound cut out and the Emperor’s royal guard dragged the eunuch away.

“You’ve brought butchers as bad as the Daegon with you,” said an elderly man from the upper tier. “The Reich destroyed my nation. Francia was granted a seat at the League after the nations here failed to deter their fleets and their thugs from doing the exact same thing that the Daegon have done to Albion!”

“Ambassador Getafix.” Gage bowed his head slightly. “The Reich has fought and bled beside Albion and the League during this crisis. Without the Bismarck we would not have destroyed the Oculus or—”

“My entire family was executed by their kind!” The old man slammed a hand against the railing. “Now they want to wash away the stain of what they’ve done and you’re going to let them! How many Albion were killed by the Reich during the Reach Wars?”

“I have…” Gage swallowed hard. “My father…my father was killed in the war.”

Setting his hands on the sides of the podium, his soul roiled as he fought to decide whether to continue with the lie he knew or the truth he grew up with. That his true father was King Randolph, now dead defending Albion, was still hard to accept.

“Reichsmen have died fighting the Daegon,” Gage said. “The Reich are on the side of the light. Shunning them for past crimes does not serve our cause. We only lose if we hold to old hatreds in the face of something far worse.”

“You weren’t on Lutetia,” Getafix said. “You didn’t see the Reich in our skies! See the bombs in our streets!”

“If we do not fight together, then every world and every sky will be cursed with Daegon ships.” Gage paused and an awful realization hit him: the Francia representative was a full member of the League. He could derail the entire effort for a unanimous front against the Daegon for no reason other than old spite.

A hand touched Gage’s shoulder.

Von Trapp gently pushed Gage to one side and took the podium.

Hisses and muttered insults came from the ambassadors.

“Greetings, I am Count von Trapp, representative of Kaiserina Washington’s Fourth Reich. I can feel your hatred.” Von Trapp stood ramrod straight. “And I deserve it. I was a junior officer aboard the Abbott when the surviving ships of Francia’s 2nd Fleet were too slow to surrender. I witnessed the aftermath of the Kataran Plains…we call it the Ehrenpreis, the price of honor. I commanded the reduction of Benin after the Reich garrison was massacred during the rebellion. All the things that the Reich did…they were done for the only reason we believed we had: it was the best option at the time. But with time, things change.

“Never before has a Reichsman addressed your League. The pain of war has been with us for so long, the wounds suffered too raw. I am not here to bring peace between us. I am here because of the threat we all face. Every star nation. Every planet. We speak plainly and directly in the Reich. When these Daegon say they will rule us and act as despots…I believe them. All four of the Reich’s histories are of despots and struggles against despots. One hopes we’ve learned our lesson by now. We stand with you. We fight beside you. We will shed our blood with you. Let us fight as one and never fight apart again.”

Von Trapp put a hand over his heart.

“I want my home!” Getafix shouted. “I want my family back!”

“I do not have that power.” Von Trapp shook his head. “But I can stop another such tragedy from happening to other planets, other families.”

“Platitudes aren’t a plan!” said the ambassador from Deseret. “Glad tidings won’t defeat the invaders. What are you proposing? We need something real. Something concrete. An actual plan!”

Gage took von Trapp’s place at the podium.

“Total war,” Gage said. “Full mobilization of our nations. Drown the Daegon in ships, missiles and soldiers. While that occurs, we strike a blow against the Daegon and stop them from consolidating. The enemy will bend every resource they have to their agenda. We must do the same.”

The ambassadors went quiet.

The borders of the holo walls blinked red. The Cathay Emperor’s advisors went into a near panic. They tried to retract his throne out of the chamber, but he whacked at them with his folded fan. The holos changed to show the Lantau system. Unidentified ships appeared at a distant slip point.

“Perhaps the Daegon brought the fight to us,” von Trapp said to Gage. “Should end the bickering and doubt right away, ja?”

“That idea is both helpful and terrifying.” Gage and von Trapp watched as the sensor returns on the new arrivals added more and more data.

“If I may,” came a voice from the second tier. Light rose around the seat of Ambassador Meers from Columbia. “I sent a plea to the Hierophant. I believe his prayers have been answered.”

“Well, I’ll be,” von Trapp said, zooming in on the lead ships. The naval vessels brimmed with cannons and open torpedo bays. “Columbia really does have a military. There was quite a debate about whether they had any way to defend themselves on the other side of the moat of the Perseus Arm.”

“Albion had a similar hypothesis. Good thing the Reich’s rumored foray into Columbia space never became reality,” Gage said.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that.” Von Trapp rubbed his palms together. “This changes my battle calculus.”

“Mine too.” Gage nodded. “Excuse me. Best to strike while the iron is hot.”

“I was about to say…” Von Trapp stepped away from the podium.

“Ambassadors of the League of Stellar Nations,” Gage said. “As the ambassador from the Kingdom of Albion, I hereby propose a declaration of war against the Daegon invaders under Article Seven of our League Charter…”

****

“Sir? You have guests.” Thorvald’s visor was down over his face and he spoke through the slightly open door of Gage’s ambassador office. Renowned for quick construction, the Cathay had thrown up an office building for the sudden influx of representatives. Gage didn’t want to be in the building if it rained.

Looking up from the fleet information that the Columbians had sent him, Gage said, “There’s no one on my schedule.”

“Correct, sir. Normally I’d turn them away as I haven’t had time to screen them…but they’re no threat. I can guarantee it.” The thin armor plates over his face slid to one side. “They’re the straight-to-the-point types and they wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t critical.”

Gage raised an eyebrow. “You’ve earned my trust. As such, I’m inclined to believe you. Show them in.” Gage turned the slate with fleet information upside down.

Two Genevans in deep-blue full body armor stepped inside. One raised a hand and his fingertips lit up. A light pinged across the bodyguard’s visor.

An elderly man entered Gage’s office. He wore an exquisitely tailored suit, his posture and bearing telling of one that had spent his life in the profession of arms. One eye was rheumy from an old injury; a dash of scar tissue ran from the edge of the damaged eye socket, across the temple and into the hairline.

“Commodore Gage.” The man bowed slightly. “I am Gregor Ticino of House Ticino. We do not shake hands. You understand our nature.”

Gage stood, then gestured to the chair on the other side of his desk.

“House Ticino has provided bodyguards to Albion for many years,” Gage said as they both sat. “Thorvald and Salis have provided exemplary service. My condolences for those of your House who died when the Daegon attacked. I understand they fulfilled their oaths.”

“They protected to their last dying breaths. There is no other expectation of a Genevan,” Gregor said. “As for Thorvald…” the old man mulled his next words carefully, “he’s a bit out of uniform.”

“Why are you here?” Gage’s brows furrowed. “It is most unusual for Genevans to leave their home world unless they’re contracted to do so.”

“Perception is reality. If we have off-world ties unrelated to protection, it can lead to the thought that our Houses are not as neutral as we strive to be. We have no off-world ties besides the few goods we import and our protection services. We are not part of the League either,” he said.

“I’ve looked over the contract between the Albion Crown and House Ticino…is anything amiss? I’ve come to depend on Thorvald and Salis,” Gage said.

“Your contract is in good standing,” Gregor said. “I’m here to ask for…a favor.”

Gage narrowed his eyes slightly. “You just said—”

“We avoid even the perception of favoritism or bias to potential clients, but times are not what they once were, are they, Commodore?”

“Our Cathay hosts would say something about living in interesting times. What ‘favor’ would you ask of me?” Gage’s gaze flitted from the two bodyguards behind Gregor.

“Salis. She is not of House Ticino. Geneva is an insular world. While we avoid foreign entanglements, our own internal politics between the Houses can be fractious at times. After the end of one particularly bloody and unnecessary conflict, certain Houses began exchanging their heirs with other Houses. This tamped down on any lord’s inclination to be too quick to anger against his neighbors, and it served to improve all our skills as protectors. Ideas were disseminated through the long understudy periods our nobles went through,” he said.

“I had no idea,” Gage said.

“And your discretion to keep this practice of ours to yourself will be greatly appreciated. Which brings me back to Salis. She is the only child of House Liestal’s lord. She was meant to serve out her contract on Albion—which we all believed was a safe posting when she was assigned there—then return to take up the mantle of her House. House Liestal has asked me to return her to Geneva. The loss of Liestal’s heir would be…a problem for Geneva.”

“Salis protects Prince Aidan, Albion’s last surviving heir.” Gage felt anger growing in his heart. “I have a vested interest in keeping him safe as well.”

“I understand.” Gregor nodded. “As Salis’ reassignment would void her contract, I and House Liestal propose an amendment…one that Geneva has never offered anyone: Allow Salis to return home, and Prince Aidan may accompany her. House Ticino will guarantee his safety until such time as you call for him to return.”

“This is unusual.” Gage tapped a finger on the desk. “Geneva doesn’t even host foreign embassies.”

“Correct. Prince Aidan will be cared for and protected. Geneva has never been invaded and if the Daegon come…they will find us more than ready for them,” Gregor said.

“If the Daegon reach Geneva, then the League has fallen and there will be nothing of Albion for Aidan to inherit. I’m inclined to agree, but under certain conditions.” Gage paused to consider Gregor’s reaction. “This is new territory for Albion and Geneva, isn’t it?”

“Correct. I’m aware that this will create precedent. I’m authorized to negotiate terms.”

“You will host Aidan along with several Albion personnel who will keep him comfortable and living in quarters that his chaperones deem acceptable,” Gage said.

“How many chaperones?”

“No more than six for his staff. His stewards. Tutors…and a squad of armsmen,” Gage said.

“You think he’d come under threat while he’s Geneva’s guest? We will protect him to our last dying breath.”

“He will be king. I want reminders of his future duty with him,” Gage said.

“Agreed. Aidan. Six staff and ten…color guard. A color guard will not upset anyone’s pride or insult our intentions. We will host them all at no cost to Albion.”

“Thank you,” Gage said. “While Aidan is your guest, you won’t send him off to another House. He’s Ticino’s responsibility only.”

“Never our intention. Still, consider it done.”

Gage leaned back in his chair. The decision was his alone, but the ramifications might not be obvious until Aidan was many light-years away and Gage could do nothing to make the situation better.

“It…it is difficult to bring a child into harm’s way,” Gage said. “I’ve had nothing but difficult decisions regarding Prince Aidan’s safety since the war began. House Ticino and all of Geneva have my thanks. I’ll send a destroyer with—”

“I prefer that they travel aboard my ship. It is small, but comfortable. An Albion warship over Geneva will not go over well. Besides, I’d rather you have the hull to fight the Daegon. There is…one last thing,” Gregor said.

Here it comes, Gage thought.

“What is that?” Gage asked.

“House Liestal and House Ticino do not agree to trades in kind when it comes to matters of contract revisions or honor. We wish to place two battalions of infantry under your command to assist in liberating Albion—and only toward the liberation of Albion.”

“That is not particularly neutral of you,” Gage said.

“We do not anticipate the Daegon being future clients. The soldiers come armed and armored. We ask that you not spend their lives recklessly…and that you return the bodies and equipment of any that die.” Gregor stood up.

“Agreed. I will treat them as Albion’s own.”

“We will send a shuttle to the Orion to receive Aidan. Please keep all this confidential, as what we do for Albion, others might feel entitled to.” Gregor opened his hands to his sides.

“And if I may have one last request? Thorvald’s had difficulty with his AI. Can you assist him?” Gage asked.

Gregor went stiff. “I can…I can arrange that. We will return Aidan and his staff to you as soon as you request it.” Gregor left the room and his guards followed.

Gage waited until he heard the bodyguards’ heavy footfalls fade away. “Thorvald?”

The bodyguard spun into the doorway.

“I need to return to the Orion. Immediately.”

Chapter 7

“‘I told you and I told you that there was nothing to be afraid of.’” Gage turned the page on a thin book with a golden spine. “‘Oh, I am so embarrassed.’ The end.”

Aidan, sitting next to Gage on Aidan’s bed, put his fists to his sides. “So the blue guy was the monster the entire time?” Aidan asked.

“Yes, he was rather silly to be so afraid.” Gage set the book on the headboard. “My Prince, I have some good news for you. Are you ready?”

“Is Salis going away?” Aidan whispered loudly. “Because she still makes me eat my peas. I don’t like peas. I told her I don’t like peas. But peas. All. The. Time.”

“You, and Salis, are going to Geneva. Where she’s from. You’ll go with Mr. Bertram and several others who will take care of you until the Daegon are defeated.” Gage smiled at the boy. “Won’t that be nice?”

Aidan’s bottom lip quivered and he began to bawl.

“Wait? What’s happening? No, Prince Aidan, this is a good thing.” Gage touched the boy’s shoulder. “You’ll be safe!”

“I don’t wanna be safe! I don’t wanna be around all the metal people. They’re no fun and sometimes they’re mean! She’s going to make me one of them!”

“My Prince, do you remember New Madras, when Salis saved you from the Daegon?” Gage asked.

Aidan nodded hard as his sobs continued.

“She…she will die for you, Prince Aidan. That’s a kind of love that only parents have. You won’t become Genevan. You’ll be Albion through and through. I’m sending plenty of people with you so that you’ll be comfortable and very well taken care of. Better than I can do for you aboard the Orion.”

“You don’t want me here?” Aidan rubbed his fists into his tired eyes. “Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry I put the spaghetti in Salis’ boots. She promised she wouldn’t tell you about that.”

“This has nothing to do with spaghetti. It’s about your safety, my Prince. It’s about the future of Albion. Your father, the King…he wanted you taken care of more than anything else. You will be king, Aidan. Someday. And that day will come sooner than you can believe. I want you to be safe too, and Geneva is the safest place in the galaxy for you. It’s not an easy decision for me either.”

“Daddy…Daddy said something about crowns to me.” Aidan stifled his sobs. “That the crown is too heavy to wear or something.”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” Gage smiled. “But you have time to become ready.”

“What about you? Is your head all heavy and stuff?”

“Duty makes every burden lighter,” Gage chuckled. “But I won’t give up my duties while there’s still so much to do. I will send you letters regularly so you know what’s happening with your kingdom. What do we say about Albion?”

“Her light burns,” Aidan said quickly.

“And you’re carrying that light with you, my Prince. You are the light of the future. Don’t be sad, please,” Gage said.

“Do they have peas on Geneva?” the boy asked.

“I don’t know, but they will have more things to eat than aboard this ship,” Gage said.

The clang of dropped pots came from the small galley connected to Aidan’s quarters.

“Can I bring all my toys?” Aidan asked.

“Yes. Why don’t you get ready for bed? I need to go have a little talk with some eavesdroppers.” Gage gave him a pat on the head and stood up.

“What droppers?” Aidan pulled his sheets up and crawled under them.

With the push of a button, Gage opened the door to the galley and found Bertram and Emma on their knees, their arms full of pans and utensils.

“Sire!” Bertram smiled, his face ruddy. “We-we were just about to cook up a gnosh for you. Who knows what sort of strange meat the Kongs tried to pass off as legit to you.”

“You heard everything.” Gage closed the door behind him.

“Heard?” Emma gave him an exaggerated shrug and began sputtering.

“Bertram, you’ll accompany Prince Aidan to Geneva and serve as his porter until we’ve liberated our home world. I expect you to be—”

“About that!” Bertram wagged a finger in the air and spilled the pots to the deck. “Sorry. I mean…while you, my good sire, are regent and all—and Commodore!—mustn’t forget that. While you have all the authority in Albion—”

“Spit it out, Bertram.”

“Do not send me to Geneva, sire.” Bertram became serious. “I’ve been your man for years. And while I appreciate the trust and confidence you gave me in taking care of our young master…I don’t want to leave your side. Emma’s an excellent porter, but I’ve seen the shine on your shoes and—”

“I beg your pardon?” Emma asked, askance.

Gage held up a hand. “Bertram, you’ve been exceptional in my service and Aidan’s. Emma has been exceptional in mine. Aidan is used to you and I’d rather have more friendly and familiar faces around him than not,” Gage said.

“Missus Emma’s been around Aidan as much as me and the lad prefers her macaroni and cheese recipe, even though it involves bacon bits, which is far too pedestrian for his refined tastes.”

“Our future king may like what he likes and you use way too much of that fake cheese, which is why he doesn’t like your recipe.” Emma rolled her eyes.

“My decision is made. I was going to tell you after Aidan. The transfer is in six hours so I suggest you start packing,” Gage said.

“No no no.” Bertram took two steps toward Gage then backed away. He scrunched his shoulders up and his head hung low. “Please, sire, let me stay with you. It’s my duty as a man to put myself in danger. Send Emma to Geneva. Please, sire. I’m normally above begging but in this instance—” He went down to his knees.

“Stand up.” Gage raised his chin. “This is not like you at a—wait…” He narrowed his eyes at them. “You’re sleeping together.”

“Wha-wha-wha—” Bertram looked at Emma, his eyes wide with panic.

“I bet it was Salis that told him,” Emma snarled. “No-good Genevan snitch.”

“It-it-it was an accident,” Bertram said, raising his palms to his shoulders.

“Every single time was an accident, was it, Berty?” Emma grabbed a pot by the handle.

“Not that! But the other thing. That was an accident.” Bertram inched away from Emma.

Gage covered his face and breathed through his fingers.

“My implant ran out.” Emma giggled and went bright red. “I forgot to get a new prescription in the midst of all the craziness. Seems sick bay ran out of the pellets and didn’t even remind me that I was due. So it’s not our fault. Not completely our fault.”

“But now I have my responsibilities,” Bertram said. “And I can’t abide her accompanying you to danger while I’m perfectly safe on Geneva.”

“Bertram,” Gage said, rubbing the bridge of his nose as a headache grew behind his eyes, “I’m reassigning you to me. Emma to Aidan. She’ll accompany him to Geneva. Remind me to ask the Genevans for a territorial concession so your baby’s born with Albion citizenship. Another hassle…”

“Oh, thank you, sire.” Emma stood and mimed a curtsy to him. “No, I should kiss your ring—”

“You both have five hours and fifty-four minutes until the Genevan transport arrives. I have full confidence that you’ll have everything ready by then.” Gage opened the galley door. “Congratulations.”

“Begging your pardon, sire.” Emma raised a hand. “If the baby’s a boy, we were thinking Thomas. After you. If you’ll oblige us.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for such an honor, but if that’s what you choose, then I will be honored,” Gage said. “Now be about your duties. I have other things to take care of.”

“I’ve his clothes in the washroom.” Emma shoved a pot into Bertram’s hands and rushed out the back of the galley.

“Thank you, sire,” Bertram said, his gaze still where he last saw her. He wiped a tear away. “Beggin’ your pardon. Not sure what’s come over me.”

“You’re a good man, Bertram. You’ve got that much more to fight for now.” Gage gave him a pat on the shoulder and left.

****

Salis and Thorvald stood in one of the Orion’s auxiliary shuttle bays. Several crates were stacked behind them. Both watched the open bay door as a craft approached slowly through the void.

“You’re the heir to House Liestal and you never mentioned it?” Thorvald asked her.

“It was never pertinent to the mission or the contract,” she said. “Also, not your business.”

“I agree with that.” An armor sliver flapped over his left eye. “Lord Gregor wishes to speak with me. Will you bring Prince Aidan here? I believe he’s still asleep.”

“I will…by God, I’ll be happy to have some dedicated help with him. I was never trained in childcare.” Salis turned around smartly and left the bay.

The Genevan shuttle—actually of Biafra design and lacking any markings—landed and a side ramp lowered. Genevans in dark-blue and earth-brown armor came down the ramp and fell into rows and columns.

“I am Dritan of House Liestal,” said the last Genevan in the brown-colored armor off the shuttle. “I am under Commodore Gage’s command. There are two more shuttles en route with our heavy weapons and support equipment. Your lord is there.” He tilted his head to the shuttle. “He wishes for you.”

“Thank you.” Thorvald took the stairs two at a time. Gregor Ticino was there and in armor. They were alone in the cargo bay.

Gregor’s lip tugged at a sneer. “You don’t deserve to wear that suit!” he snapped. “Royce was one of the best of us. And you…”

“True to my oath to Albion.” Thorvald felt the suit crawl against his skin as the AI within began to act in a way he’d never felt before. His limbs locked up and his visor slid off his face and around the back of his skull.

“You were hours away from being sent back to us in shame.” Gregor walked around Thorvald, an armor chink over one eye. “Then you…you put on Royce’s suit, violated the AI…if we were a religious order, I’d have you burned at the stake for blasphemy. Grynau isn’t sure about you. You make inexcusable mistakes, but you’re willing to give your last dying breath for the client. I do not understand you.”

“I have made mistakes. There is no excuse,” Thorvald said.  “Grynau and I have come to an understanding.”

“Grynau has suffered so much. Most AI must be retired if they’re not joined properly, especially when their new partner should never be given the honor to wear a House suit. Royce’s long service with Grynau must have fortified the base neural networks. Lucky for you. Grynau should’ve squeezed the life out of you for trying.”

“Then I am thankful for Royce’s dedication. I could not have protected the clients without Grynau or this suit,” Thorvald said.

Gregor paused as more information flashed across his eyepiece.

“There was a Faceless? Ja’war the Black? The Ja’war the Black?” the House lord asked.

“We had to think outside the box to trap him,” Thorvald said.

“You…you are a disgrace to our House. Geneva survives on our service, our perfect service! The galaxy is in flames and the entire paradigm that we survive within is in peril, and I cannot understand if you’re making it worse or trying to hold it all together,” Gregor said. “You will continue in your current contract until it runs out. Then you will return Grynau to House Ticino. You will not return home. You will never set foot on Geneva again.”

Thorvald’s face hardened. “As you command, my lord. I will defend Albion’s royal line to my last dying breath. Prince Aidan…he is a good child. Gage is a good man. I would die for them, oath or not.”

“You are either the worst of us,” Gregor touched his hand to Thorvald’s solar plexus, “or the best of us. You will determine how you will be remembered.”

Gregor pressed gently against Thorvald’s chest and his suit let go its iron-hard grip on him.

“I’ve reset Grynau’s firewalls. It will give you less resistance and you can release the dead King’s full succession line…if Gage wills it. You try to do it and Grynau will pop your damn head off. Good luck. Die well.” Gregor turned to the rear ramp as it lowered.

Salis held Prince Aidan by the hand in the bay. Emma and almost a dozen other Albion military personnel were there waiting with luggage and supplies.

Chapter 8

Tolan dropped a tiny white pill into a glass vial and twisted the bottom. The pill was crushed into powder by a small force field. He tapped the vial to knock the residue on the side to the bottom, poured a thimbleful of an amber liquid into the vial and swished it around.

“Hello, my baby, hello, my honey…” Tolan tipped the mixture under his tongue and winced as pins and needles tickled nerve endings in his gums. “Hello, my ragtime gaaaaalll…”

He spun around in the Joaquim’s command chair and dropped the vial in a felt-lined case full of pharmaceuticals. Taking a puff on a vape pen, he blew a cloud of vapor over his head as the tingling spread through his face. His skin changed colors and went slack in some places, drum tight in others. He fluffed his bathrobe as his chest become hotter and hotter.

There was a knock at the heavy door sealing the small bridge off from the rest of the ship.

“This is my me time!” Tolan shouted.

The next knock was far heavier.

“I swear…” Tolan flipped a switch and spun around and around in the chair as the door opened. Thorvald—in armor—looked the bridge over then stepped aside. Commodore Gage and Loussan were just behind the Genevan.

Loussan tossed a hand up in disgust at the sight of Tolan.

“Tolan.” Gage ducked and entered the bridge. “Does Mr. Thorvald have to hit you with a neutralizer?”

“No need.” Tolan dragged a foot across the deck and slowed to a stop. “That was my dermal plasticity booster. All part of my usual regimen to keep me all nice and Faceless for intelligence purposes.”

Gage sniffed at the air.

“OK, that’s Maui Wowie and it helps the rest of the medicine go down. I’m quite lucid.” He held the vape out to Gage who politely declined. “You’re not the type to harsh a buzz.” Tolan leaned over and stared daggers at Thorvald, then smiled at Gage. “What brings you to my own little piece of heaven?”

“While your ship is docked aboard the Orion, you’re subject to Albion law,” Thorvald said. “Your illicit collection is an issue.”

“Your face is an issue!” Tolan took a long drag on the vape.

“I’m here to discuss the upcoming operation to liberate Albion,” Gage said. “And I need your and Loussan’s input. You both have perspectives that may not be appreciated among my normal planning staff.”

“Rampant bigotry from jackboots, eh, Loussan?” Tolan giggled. “Forgive me, Commodore. Too much time spent in wild space.”

Gage sat in the co-pilot’s chair and looked over the controls.

“I haven’t been at the helm of a ship like this in many years. Sometimes I forget what it’s like to have so much freedom at my fingertips,” Gage said.

Loussan entered the bridge and leaned against the bulkhead, arms and ankles crossed.

“The clans won’t join your mission,” the former pirate captain said. “Don’t even bother asking.”

“Win or lose, the clans will have a whole new set of problems,” Gage said. “But let’s deal with the nearest target. You both have been to Albion recently. What did you observe with the main void lanes to the throne world?”

“Nothing but Daegon warships from orbit to the slip points leading to League space,” Tolan said. “Didn’t see anything in the way of mines, but every non-Daegon ship coming in system had a bomb on the hull, which made things so not cool.”

“What are you planning?” Loussan asked. “The clans theorized how best to raid Albion for years, but it was only ever…notional. Your navy was always too good for us. The juice wouldn’t have been worth the squeeze.”

“It was for the Daegon,” Gage said.

“Helps when you attack from an unexpected direction with overwhelming firepower,” Tolan said. “Which begs the question, where are you going to find the unexpected direction and the firepower?”

“The League is with us. Another flotilla from the Reich will arrive tomorrow. We’re leaving soon after that,” Gage said. “As united as the star nations are, having so many old enemies at anchorage so close to each other leaves us open to a misunderstanding or a provocation from Daegon infiltrators. We need to move fast.”

“You come in from the Lantau trade axis and you’ll smack right into the Daegon fleet,” Loussan said. “Assuming they don’t intercept you at any star between here and New Bombay.”

“That is the obvious axis back to Albion,” Gage said. “The Daegon know we don’t have much time to strike before they recover from the loss of the Oculus, and a simple plan violently executed would be best in our situation.”

“Then why are you consulting us?” Tolan asked.

“Guile,” the Commodore said, nodding slightly. “I need guile. I need a way to drive the Daegon off Albion and move the battle away from the civilians.”

“If I were a warlord squatting over a planet and not someone who gets by on his roguish charms,” Loussan said, stretching his arms over his head, then letting them flop to his sides, “I’d tell you to consider the battle from the Daegon’s perspective.”

“They don’t care about our people,” Tolan said. “They’re an exploitable resource to them. Useful as human shields at best in a system-wide attack. So the Baroness Asaria wants the fight as close to Albion as possible. Keep us from using long-range strikes that could miss their ships and hit the planet.”

“That.” Loussan pointed at Tolan. “Old pirate trick. Keeps the out-system ships from engaging until we’ve got all the loot we need. Trick is to leave before they can catch up.”

“You don’t say.” Gage scratched his face. He fought Loussan many years ago in just such a situation. “So where do I find another angle?”

Tolan took a long drag on his vape, then exhaled tiny clouds from each nostril one at a time. “You remember seeing anything near the slip transit to Lopburi?” he asked Loussan.

“Huh…” Loussan held out a hand and took the vape pen. “I think there was an out-system picket, but nothing significant. Why would they? It’s nothing but hard bores though slip space to clan worlds and—” He looked at the vape and then at Tolan, his face contorted with confusion.

“And the route we took from Lopburi to New Bombay,” Gage said. “We could backtrack the path you lead us through…”

“What is in this?” Loussan took another puff. “That route was a pain in the ass because it started at Gilgara not Lopburi. I’d rather not make the Razor Fist transit with even more jackboo—Albion ships. Pull up a star map.”

Tolan spun the chair around and hit a button. A split-second video of pornography flashed across the holo screen then switched to a galactic map localized around Albion.

“Hey! I said this was my me time. Don’t judge, you…there’s the map,” Tolan said, his skin flush.

“Lopburi has a slipway connecting to Raula-37.” Loussan traced the line in the map. “Which we of the clans don’t mention around you types. We can skim the outer system of Raula and jump back to clan territory before the balle balles even know we’re there.”

“You have the slip codes?” Gage asked Loussan.

Loussan touched his chest, then looked furtively between Gage and Thorvald. “They’re…implanted,” he laughed nervously. “Discourages mutinies if the captain is the only one with the way in and out.”

Thorvald shifted his stance slightly.

“No!” Loussan pointed an accusing finger at the Genevan. “Don’t think you can rip my still-beating heart out so your AI demon can nick the codes from me. Don’t even think it!”

“It could work…” Thorvald said.

“Not necessary.” Gage raised a hand. “But this gives me an option I hadn’t considered, and one the Daegon aren’t either. Tolan…what about a ground assault?”

Loussan passed the vape back to the Faceless.

Tolan’s countenance morphed from countenance to countenance.

“Mmm…the people are on our side. Key thing is to stop Daegon leadership from escaping and making our conflict with them last for years more than it should. The resistance structure we planned in case of Reich occupation might still be in place, but I’ve got some thinking to do. We’re landing troops?”

“We will burn every Daegon out of Albion. We will hound them to the end of the stars for what they’ve done,” Gage said.

“Then I’ve got some ideas.” He rummaged in the pharmaceutical box and drew out a cigar tube. “Which I’ll probably remember later. Let me marinate on it some more?”

“If you insist.” Gage stood up. “Good talk, gentlemen.”

Thorvald closed the door to the bridge behind them.

“Wǒ de qìdiànchuán zhuāngmǎn le shànyú,” Loussan said, sitting heavily in the co-pilot’s seat. “I’m never going to be able to go home after this. I’m tainted.”

Tolan tossed him the vape and lit a match.

“You think I could live on Albion?” Loussan asked.

“You’d hate it. We are no fun at all.” Tolan puffed at his cigar. “What was the most important thing for you while you were raiding?”

“We never called it ‘raiding.’ It was a dynamic wealth redistribution…and the most important thing was self-preservation,” the pirate said.

“Hmm…” Tolan leaned back in his chair.

****

Gage watched as slip space flowed past the Orion. His ready room was empty but for him, Bertram and Thorvald.

The doors opened and Commander Price entered, her arms full of data slates. The rest of his bridge crew filed in after her and stood behind their seats on one side of a long conference table. Price slid slates across the table to each of them.

“Everyone prepared?” Gage asked.

“Aye aye,” Price said, tugging at her tunic to smooth out any wrinkles.

“Tea?” Bertram raised a silver pot. The officers looked at cups and saucers arrayed on the table, but none volunteered.

“Yes, please,” Gage said. “Thorvald’s scanned everything.”

“No offense meant,” Captain Vult said. “Having pre-meeting tea is an ancient tradition. The damn Daegon have cast a pall on that too. I’ll have some.”

“We must remain who we were, or else the Daegon will win,” Gage said.

Bertram went down the line, filling every cup before handing a saucer over to Gage.

“It’s the last of our Harrogate blend,” Bertram said. “We’re reduced to Cathay brands after this, my apologies to you good ladies and gentlemen.”

“Needs must,” Gage said. “Any final inputs to the plan before we present it to the fleet captains?” he asked the officers.

“Sire…we’re placing a good deal of faith in these other assault elements,” said Captain McGowan, the Sterling’s captain. “If any come out of slip space too soon, or too late, or out of position…our chances of surviving drop quite precipitously and quite quickly.”

“I made this known to Count von Trapp and General Han. They shared the same concerns. I’m not as concerned with the Reich-led element following the battle plan as written. I spent a considerable amount of time explaining everything to Han. The Cathay tend to find confusion where there shouldn’t be any,” Gage said.

“The other two elements have the chance to disengage if the plan fails,” Vult said. “We don’t. We’ll be in the worst of it from the very get-go.”

“Yes,” Gage said, sitting at the head of the table. “This is the liberation of Albion. It is our duty to lead from the front, no matter the danger. We cannot ask our allies to bleed more than us. I’d hold this to any Albion-led operation, particularly when victory is so critical.”

The officers took their seats and sipped their tea in silence.

“I never thought the day would come when we’d put our lives in the hands of the Reich or Cathay,” Price said. “Yet the day is here.”

“We do not have the strength by ourselves to defeat the Daegon,” Gage said. “The League—all free peoples of settled space—must fight together or fall apart. The time to strike is now, and it is up to us to have the strength and courage to act. Shall we begin?”

Price passed her teacup to Bertram then pressed a thumb to a screen. The lights dimmed and the holos of ship captains flickered to life in the empty seats across from the staff officers.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Gage began, “deployment orders for the liberation of Albion are being transmitted to you now. Forgive the secrecy requiring us to wait to discuss this with you until we entered slip space, but security is of the highest concern. Operation Caliburn is…ambitious.”

A map of the Albion system appeared before each officer. The throne world glowed red. Fleet placements for the Daegon were in dashed lines as their exact location was unverified, but the bulk of the enemy’s forces were in high orbit over Albion.

Commander Price stood to speak.

“With the destruction of the Oculus, it is highly likely that the enemy have withdrawn to Albion where the bulk of their logistics resources are located. They seized much of our infrastructure in the initial attack. Other worlds in Indus and Cathay space suffered significant damage when they fell to the invaders. The last reports that reached us before we entered slip space indicate that the enemy abandoned their offensives and left a token resistance in contact with our allies.” Price clicked a button on a small remote and a map of settled space appeared over the Albion system.

The Daegon had punched deep into Indus territory, one slip jump away from their capital system of Delhi and the twenty billion inhabitants. Another wing had torn through smaller star nations and was poised to attack Cathay systems on the rim-ward side of their empire. The third axis had cut through half the Biafra Republic and was heading straight toward Earth.

“The Leauge’s forces currently deployed against the Daegon are pushing the enemy back, but the counteroffensive is moving slowly,” Price said. “Auxiliary fleets from the Cathay and Indus have been allocated to us for Operation Caliburn, and a fleet of four carriers, three battleships and support vessels from the Columbia Hegemony are with us, as well as the Bismarck, Castle Itter and three squadrons of destroyers and cruisers from the Cathay. The largest armada in League history will assault Albion with us.

“We will assault—forgive me, that’s the doctrinal term—we will assault Albion from three different directions,” Price said and the map of settled space blinked out. Three blue arrows appeared on the Albion system, one from the slip point connecting to Sandov, one from Cardiff, and the last from Lopburi.

Han shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Sir…how are we going to coordinate this?” he asked. “Unless all three axes arrive almost simultaneously, the Daegon could defeat each one in detail.”

“Tolan believes that the Daegon will stay in low orbit around Albion and launch harassment attacks on any assault force,” Gage said. “They’ll bleed the Reich and Cathay forces white then force them into a decisive engagement over Albion, where friendly fire could pose a significant risk to the civilian population.”

A picture of the Sphinx over the capital city of New Exeter popped up in the holo. The massive command ship dominated the sky. Any weapon fired on the Sphinx would annihilate several city blocks unless there was a direct hit on the ship.

“It would seem,” said McGowan, clearing his throat, “that we’re doing exactly what the enemy wants.”

“Until we arrive,” Gage said. “Our fleet—along with a contingent of Indus ships—will transit from Lopburi at the Tarantus Lagrange point.”

A navigation buoy appeared on the map between Albion’s orbit and the next planet farther from the system primary.

Several of the officers went pale.

“Sir…that’s suicide,” Vult said. “The nav buoys were destroyed during the initial invasion. We try and make slip exit with the mass of this fleet with bad data and…”

“Thankfully, Agent Tolan purloined a great deal of slip space data from the Daegon the last time he was on Albion. We should be able to exit slip space at Tarantus with a ninety-five percent surety rating,” Gage said.

Silence.

“Yes, I’m aware that every percentage point below one hundred is exponentially more dangerous, but I’ve weighed the risk and for us to strike so close to Albion where the Daegon don’t suspect…it’s worth it,” Gage said.

“My Hephaestus can’t make that jump,” Captain Powell said through her holo. “She out masses the slip point.”

“I’m aware. Your ship and a destroyer escort will remain in the Lopburi system once you’ve offloaded your munitions to the fleet,” Gage said. “From there, your onboard fabricators will have another mission.”

Gage slid a fingertip across a screen then flicked toward Powell, who frowned at a screen.

“I can’t make that many warheads in the time you’ve allotted,” Powell said.

“You won’t need to,” Gage said. “You’ll keep a stockpile aboard. I’ll explain why once we get to that part of the operation.”

“Then what is our mission,” asked Vult, shifting in his seat, “once we thread the needle to the Tarantus slip point and presumably all arrive in one piece without blowing up during translation?”

“We will advance on Albion and engage the Daegon directly in our skies,” Gage said. “It is our duty and obligation to spare as may civilian lives as possible. With ourselves as the hammer and the Reich/Cathay fleets as the anvil, we will leave a route to Lopburi and wild space open. The Daegon are monsters, but they’re here to rule us, not die in place. If we give them an escape vector, they’ll take it once they realize we’re willing to go blow for blow with them.”

“Our casualties will be significant,” McGowan said. “But we didn’t volunteer to serve expecting puppies and butterflies, did we? The Daegon escape to wild space and then what? Have we just kicked the can down the road?”

“Every day the Daegon hold Albion is another day of atrocities. Of murder. Of innocent lives lost that can never be replaced.” Gage stood and leaned against the table. “Daegon scattered across wild space will find no allies. We will hunt them down, but Albion is dying. Our light flickers and dims. There will never be a perfect solution or a bloodless battle to free our home. We must act now and act decisively.”

“Who wants out?” Price asked. “Who’s ‘volunteering’ to conveniently be the last survivor while everyone else sells their blood and their lives for our people?”

No one took up the offer.

“The chain of command is in your operation order,” Gage said. “Should I or the Orion be lost, who will then be in command—and also regent—is clear. Now that we’re underway in slip space, I will tell you that Prince Aidan has been sent to Geneva in the care of House Ticino. This decision was not made lightly, but it was the best for the prince. I tire of sharing danger with him. That is not something a child should go through, and the sole heir—”

“Did you say…the Genevans?” De Jung squinted her eyes.

“As they’ve never done anything like this before, it stands to reason that no one will suspect that’s where Prince Aidan is being kept safe,” Gage said.

“We are depending a great deal on our allies,” Vult said. “If either of the attack forces fail to arrive on time or fail to commit to the fight…”

“We are all in this together. Han and von Trapp understand what’s at stake. And if Operation Caliburn is the final battle of the Royal Albion Navy…then the galaxy will know we fought to our last with honor and integrity. That won’t make us any less dead, but Prince Aidan can hold his head high.”

“I’m all for making the Daegon die while we keep our honor and integrity,” McGowan said.

“We will conduct twice-daily simulations until we exit slip space at Formosa VII, then we will maintain full combat readiness until we transit through Lopburi,” Gage said. “There is…there will be no second chance, ladies and gentlemen. If we fail, I fear Albion will never be free again. We win or we die. First operational sim begins in ten minutes.”

****

Seaver pulled a holding pin on his battle rifle and popped the weapon open at the magazine well. The inner magnetic acceleration bolt popped out and Seaver snatched it out of the air and set it onto a small cloth. Peering down the barrel, Seaver ran a fingertip across the electrical tabs.

He squeezed one hand and the light-green sheen to his skin deepened. He turned his hand over and traced the thin surgical scars up and down his arm with his eyes.

“Voidsman?” came a voice from the door to the empty barracks. His platoon leader was there. A man barely older than him, he already had a tour as an armsman to his name, which made him well qualified to lead the hodgepodge of men and women assigned to the Albion 1st Provisional Infantry.

“Sir?” Seaver jumped to his feet.

“Got some gentlemen here that wish to speak with you.” The lieutenant stood aside and a pair of Genevans in blue and earth-toned suits came in.

“Colonel Steiner,” said the one in blue. “That’s Lieutenant Colonel Fegeline. We understand you have a great deal of experience fighting the enemy. We would rather not learn how to kill Daegon on Albion.”

“What can you tell us?” Fegeline asked.

“Wow…are you guys, like, Reich or something?” Seaver asked.

Fegeline took a step toward Seaver. Steiner put an arm out and stopped the other Genevan.

“We are augmentees to Albion,” Steiner said. “We are here to fight Daegon. What was done to you, son? Thorvald speaks highly of your abilities.”

“The Daegon captured me. Forced me to fight for them and when I showed some ability, they…changed me. Made me addicted to some sort of drug gene-coded to my master. I’d have already died of withdrawals if we hadn’t got a blood sample and if the doctors aboard hadn’t fabricated an antidote. Now I’m free of them and all I want to do is kill them,” Seaver said.

“I will forgive his assumption,” Fegeline said. “He’s got spirit.”

“Tell us what we need to know to kill them,” Steiner said.

Seaver reassembled his rifle without looking at it.

“You need anti-tank munitions to take down the golems,” Seaver said, nodding. “They’ve got excellent IR sensors and if you want effective cover, you need at least a foot of thick material between you and them or they’ll spot you and their heavy machine guns will chew through any cover that’s not enough to hide you from their sensors. The golems they…they like prisoners. They’ll tear us apart just to hear the screams.”

“Weak points?” Fegeline asked.

“You kill the Daegon controlling them. If they don’t have constant directions, they’ll sort of wander off until they see something that fits a target profile. Also, the mags on their backs aren’t armored well. Couple good shots will cook ’em off and the golems won’t be able to do much after that. It’s the walkers you really have to worry about.” Seaver closed his eyes and a slight shiver went through his body.

“Tell us everything,” Steiner said.

****

Wyman trotted out of the ready room and made for his Typhoon as the rest of Cobra squadron reached their fighters and climbed into the cockpits. The craft weren’t outfitted for combat. Their hard points were empty, utility hoses and cables still attached, but in-cockpit rehearsals were the standard. Other than not feeling the acceleration of g-forces during their simulated maneuvers, the VR built into the canopies and helmets would keep things close to actual combat without being in the void or being shot at.

He got to the ladder leading up to his fighter and paused with one foot on the bottom rung. His name and call sign weren’t stenciled on the edge of the canopy as usual. He leaned back and confirmed the tail number was indeed for his fighter.

“Freak Show!” called out Marksman, the Cobra Squadron commander, from the top of his ladder. “You’re on tail number 37 for the mission!”

“Roger!” Wyman climbed down the ladder slowly, like he was about to say goodbye to an old friend. He put a palm on the fuselage then shrugged at Ivor as he jogged to the next row of fighters. Was he getting a newer void frame Typhoon? A more reliable fighter because of his shiny new captain’s rank?

He got to the Typhoon with the right tail number and paused. The cockpit had two seats, one right behind the other. A man in an ill-fitting flight suit and a helmet sat in the back seat. He rocked from side to side, the helmet’s visor down.

“What the hell is this?” Wyman asked as he mounted the ladder. “Who the hell are you?”

“Who the hell are you?” his own voice asked back. The visor snapped up and Wyman stared at his own face.

“Jesus Christ!” Wyman reared back and almost fell off the ladder.

His doppelganger’s arm snapped out and grabbed him by the front of his flight suit with surprising strength. Wyman was pulled close to the other face, which blew a kiss at him.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.” Tolan’s voice cracked as he helped Wyman get steady on his feet.

“Oh shit, not you again…” Wyman stepped into the cockpit. “Why? What did I do to deserve this? Didn’t I…didn’t I just save the galaxy or something when I blew up the Oculus?”

“Aha! You’ve made the classic blunder of thinking success means your life will get easier.” Tolan pinched his nose and tugged it out. When it snapped back, his face relaxed to soft features. “In fact, my dear Freak Show, you’ve volunteered for a secret and dangerous mission.”

“I did? I mean, no, I didn’t! This is the first I’ve ever—”

“Then you’re being volun-told. You’ve got the skills and I know you’re not completely useless in dangerous and uncertain situations. So…guess what we’re doing?” Tolan asked.

“I am a fighter pilot. We’re about to fight in the skies over our home and now I’m-I’m-I’m…what am I doing?” Wyman’s shoulders fell as he sank into the forward seat.

“Cobra squadron will provide void superiority over New Exeter during the battle. Your caveat is that you’re going to drop me off at a certain part of the city so I can do my part. Then you can go back to blowing up Daegon,” Tolan said.

“What? That’s incredibly stupid. Why don’t you just drop with the rest of the Genevans and our soldiers?” Wyman asked.

“Because those knuckle draggers and crayon eaters are looking for a fight that the bad guys are ready and willing to give them,” Tolan raised his nose slightly. “I am not looking for a stand up fight. The Daegon will be focused on the landers and not a single fighter that dips below radar for a few seconds.”

“Have you…have you ever been in a fair fight?” Wyman put his hands on hips.

“Yes, and they’re dreadfully not fun. I prefer to deal with threats in a discrete manner when possible.”

“You’d shoot them in the back,” Wyman dead panned.

“It’s the safest way. Now, which of these control panels will synch me up to the wireless? I want to have my music during the flight,” Tolan cracked his fingers.

“These dash B models don’t have the same maneuver profile,” Wyman said. “We call these crates targets in a dogfight. Man…”

“So, what do I get to do back here?” Tolan asked. “There are so many buttons!”

Wyman reached back and smacked Tolan’s hand. “You don’t—don’t touch anything.” Wyman closed the canopy. “You don’t know anything about being an EWO so—”

“EWO?”

“So I’m cutting off all your controls. I’ll fly her like my usual bird and just carry you around like a sack of potatoes that smell like…what is that?”

“Uh…patchouli?”

Wyman flipped a switch and the canopy went opaque. It flickered and turned into the star field over Albion.

“Dash B’s are the command and control nodes for multiple squadron operations. The Daegon know this so we’re going to be a slightly slower-than-average target in a fight,” Wyman said. “This bird’s hardwiring is all off…trim sucks.”

“Cool story, what am I supposed to do back here?” Tolan asked.

“You don’t touch anything and keep your damn mouth shut. Where am I supposed to drop you off?” Wyman asked.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Tolan said.

“I did good.” Wyman reached into a pocket on his lower leg and tossed a spongy cylinder over his shoulder. “I blew all those Daegon bastards up and now I have to haul your weirdo ass dirtside and somehow get back to the fight without eating a missile…”

“Should I have brought a lunch?”

Wyman slammed his fists into the side control panels.

“Maybe I’ll just sit here quietly. Learn a little about being a fighter pilot if I ever have to do that infiltration…”

“I have your ejection controls.” Wyman pointed to a panel. “The switch is right here. Just so you know. Anything else to say?”

Tolan dropped his visor again.

Chapter 9

As Gage stepped slowly down a passageway, sailors pressed their backs to the bulkheads to give the Commodore space. Gage nodded to each sailor, his hands clasped behind his back. He turned into a bay where sailors and civilians worked at the base of a turret.

“—you dumb sonsabitches will kill us all if you foul up the capacitor buffers!” a petty officer barked at a half-dozen crew. “If you can’t do something as simple as spot a power surge from the…by the Crown. Look alive, you lot, the King is here!”

The magazine bay scrambled to attention.

“I am regent, not king, and I will be until Prince Aidan’s ready for the crown. As you were.” Gage raised a hand and smiled. Sailors formed into a long line, several apparently self-conscious over their dirty utilities. Two women at the end of the line futzed with their hair until a snarl from the petty officer stopped them.

Gage stopped in front of the chief NCO. “Petty Officer Jones.” Gage shook his hand. Jones looked surprised and glanced down at his utilities. There was no name tape, but Gage knew who he was.

“Sire. Battery Dorsal 9 ready for inspection,” Jones said.

“What do you need?” Gage asked. “Ask me now, as once we’re in the fight, it will be too late for me to do much else.”

“Sire, we…I need another twenty rounds of combat sims to have my crew operating as smoothly as any regular navy sailors,” Jones said.

“Time is the only resource I cannot distribute,” Gage said.

“Understood, sire, but the galley’s got us on a rotation that crimps our hours that I can use for drills. Perhaps if the galley dropped meals in my battery…more time for training,” Jones said.

Gage thought for a moment. “I’ll see it done. Though you may get cold ration packs instead of hot meals.”

“We’ll take stale chicken curry pouches over the galley’s egg loaf,” Jones said. “We can always warm them up on the heat sinks.”

“See that everyone gets some sleep before we arrive on Lopburi…we’ll be in the thick of it after that,” Gage said. “How’s your recoil recovery system? Several batteries are reporting hang fires as we haven’t had our usual maintenance overhauls.”

“Well, sire…would you like to see? McJames over there was working a Kong shipyard before the war and they had a different mag buffering setup that’s within Albion specs,” Jones said.

“Please.” Gage walked down the line, nodding at and looking each sailor in the eyes.

“Sire?” a female sailor asked meekly.

Gage stopped and faced her.

“Begging your lordship, but you mentioned Prince Aidan.” She looked down at her feet as though ashamed. “He’s just a boy. Will he…”

“Prince Aidan is somewhere safe. Far safer than we’ll be, that’s for sure,” Gage said. “For his security I can’t say exactly where he is. I worry for him too. He’s a good lad and he’ll become a great king. It’s up to us to make sure there’s still an Albion for him to inherit.”

“Ooh, thank you, my lord, we were so worried. Jenny and I have…had? We have boys his age,” she said.

“We’ll be home soon.” Gage touched her shoulder then moved on to where Petty Officer Jones and another sailor were working near the base of the cannon. The barrel was depressed beneath the closed hull and would remain shut until the battle was upon them.

McJames, a slightly chubby man in his mid-fifties and civilian overalls, raised a heavy metal hatch, locked it into place, then kept the back of his legs pressed against the hatch as another layer of safety.

“A Kong sub-routine data lance cuts down on the field spikes,” Jones said, pointing into the hatch. “One of my boys had some archaic dental fillings from wild space and they were getting pulled out by wobblies during calibration. McJames came up with a solution. Which also kept him out of this station…” Jones narrowed his eyes at the sailor, who shrugged.

A single crew station was in the hole, banks of monitors and controls connected to the mag coils beneath the cannon. Gage wasn’t surprised that a bit of ingenuity had been found. The Albion fleet had nicknamed the hole “the fryer,” as loss of magnetic containment from damage or energy spikes normally resulted in a fatal result for the sailor at that workstation. The armored hatch was there to prevent any explosion from taking out the rest of the gun crew.

Pictures of scantily clad women were on one side of the compartment, a picture of a flaming building on the other. Two figures in shadow faced each other on the roof made up of Cathay tiles, the words, “Are you fighting as hard as him?” across the bottom.

“Sorry, sire, that’s inappropriate and I’ll see those naughty images removed and the sailor—”

“I doubt those are interfering with good order and discipline.” Gage went to his knees and studied the screens. True to Jones’ word, the energy fluctuations from the capacitors were smoother than other batteries. He kept glancing at the picture of the duel in fire, then reached over and pulled it off the metal spar it was taped to. He stood and held it up to the light.

“Is this what I think it is?” Gage asked.

“Sire…that’s you.” Jones frowned. “You and that Daegon bastard that’s been hounding us since Lopburi. The Kongs had cameras all over your guest house. We got some pirated copies before we left Lantau.”

The smell of smoke and a phantom pain in his side brought Gage back to his fight with Tiberian.

“Would you sign that, sire?” someone asked from the line.

Jones produced a pen.

Gage wrote his name along the edge, then added, “Battery Dorsal 9-Albion’s light burns!” He handed the picture and pen back to Jones.

“I’ll have engineering double-check McJames’s workaround and have it implemented across the fleet if it’s suitable,” Gage said. “What’s your rank?” he asked McJames.

“Able…Voidsman?” McJames glanced up and to the left. “I’m a civilian augmentee, sire.”

“LV3?” Gage asked Jones, who nodded vigorously.

“I hereby promote you to Leading Voidsman 3rd class McJames.” Gage shook the man’s hand. “Well done. I’ll get out of your way, Petty Officer Jones. War’s coming. Keep using your time wisely.”

Gage did not look back as he left.

****

Gustavus stepped onto a floating disk in the underside of the Sphinx. A column of light cast around him and he sank slowly down the pillar to New Exeter below. The city was drab, colorless. Skyscrapers still bore the smoke scars from the initial assault, and windows had been blown out, leaving the facades dark honeycombs beneath cloudy skies.

Daegon fighters flew constant circles over the city, never coming too close to the Baroness’ abode. Gustavus felt exposed and vulnerable as he descended the gravity funnel. Any watching eyes could see as he left the Sphinx, and a decent-enough sniper in the burnt-out buildings could end him before he knew there was a threat.

She wants it that way, Gustavus thought to himself, one hand brushing past his new golden writ. The box had his command etched into it, along with Asaria’s personal seal.

The disk landed gently in the ruins of the Albion palace. The shattered remnants of statues of past kings and dignitaries were strewn across the courtyard, along with defaced paintings in their broken frames.

Juliae was waiting for him. The ghostly pale, damaged tissue on her face still hadn’t healed correctly, ruining what would’ve been an otherwise attractive face. Her eyes glistened when she saw the writ around his neck.

“Your command grows,” she cooed as she walked beside him.

Gustavus was tight-lipped as they marched through the wrecked palace. Bullet holes, plasma burns and time-blackened blood sprays adorned the walls and floors. Gustavus glanced up at a sensor ball in a top corner of a hallway, then cut through a breach blasted out during the attack.

“It does, but not in any way that benefits me.” Gustavus flicked the golden box. “I’ve been ‘promoted’ to ground force commander for this city. She took the Minotaur from me.”

Juliae’s chin rose slightly.

“Why? You’ve succeeded at void command,” she said as they made their way into the city. Security drones zipped overhead, constantly observing and cataloging movement. Cleon had ordered a saturation of cameras and other detection equipment after the Albion Faceless caused so much consternation in the city.

“Precisely that,” Gustavus sneered. “Now it is my time to succeed at a ground command and ‘round out’ my capabilities. According to the Baroness.”

Juliae flicked a fingernail beneath her chin and both their suits formed into masks over them. A localized distortion field kicked on, enough to disrupt any listening devices.

“Why do you think she really did it?” Juliae asked.

“Because she does not trust me fully. Tiberian failed. My father…died in his efforts. I spent time with House Yasuda during the withdrawal from the Oculus. She’s concerned about a coup…we’d never betray her, but conditions are such that some might consider it. Throw their lot in with the Yasuda and hope for the best.”

“House Yasuda are unbloodied. They barely have as many ships as we do,” Juliae said. “Who would throw in with them? They’d be known traitors and the High Houses would eliminate them at the first opportunity as they’d have already shown that their loyalty is questionable.”

“You are correct, but fear can make the wise foolish,” Gustavus said. “The Baroness is pushing those with potential for foolish decisions away from her and keeping those about whom she has fewer doubts close to her.”

“Holding Tiberian to account should have sent a better message,” Juliae sneered.

“That was done for the Yasuda’s benefit. They would’ve moved against her by now if she hadn’t.” Gustavus patted the sword at his side, a weapon that Tiberian had borne during the war. “She’s playing the game well enough, to our detriment.”

“To what end? Is Yasuda going on the offensive?”

“They might have the strength to occupy the Cathay and force the Indus to their knees, but they’re not enough. If they’d arrived in full strength and if House Jan Compagnie had made the next transit as scheduled…but that’s not our reality anymore. House Bratva would have already tried to seize what’s ours by right and blood if there wasn’t anything left for them. No one is discussing offensives. They’re looking to rebuild an Oculus.”

“The ferals know where to find it,” Juliae sniffed.

“There’s another location in wild space. Though, if a construction and assault fleet leave here for wild space, then the more organized feral nations will realize what’s happening. Treating them as fools and weaklings has not proven successful.” Gustavus clicked the guard of his sword against the scabbard.

“Our plans for a quick, victorious war over the ferals have been abandoned then?” she asked.

“House Yasuda is readying for a strike against Lantau. Obliterate the League and the Emperor in one blow. A kantai kessen that will rob the ferals of their momentum or belief they can beat us. That will buy us breathing room to rebuild the Oculus and bring the other Houses into the fight,” Gustavus said. “I cannot find fault with that plan…except that we won’t be involved.”

“Then what are we to do? Sit here on our thumbs?” Juliae asked.

“We form our Albion subjects into battalions and feed them into the grinder. This world is pleasant enough for our fiefdom, but the legacy population are weeds that need to be removed,” Gustavus said. “They will learn to love the lash or they will be purged. Same as it ever was. You and I will begin the harvest at dawn.”

“Good. I prefer that to waiting around. I’ve learned how to break the Albion. Our star will rise,” she said.

“That it will. Higher than my father or uncle could have ever hoped.” Gustavus rubbed his fingers against his writ.

****

Gage pulled a boot off and set it aside. His feet ached and his socks were damp against his skin. The lighting in his quarters was muted for the ship’s night cycle. He appreciated the irony, as the day and night temp aboard the Orion—and the entire fleet—was supposed to be based off his sleep schedule.

He wasn’t exactly sure how long it had been since he’d even laid down.

“Tea and vittles,” Bertram said, arriving with a silver tray loaded with a chrome-plated pot and several sandwich slices sans crust. “Decaffeinated.”

“I may just be regent, but I feel a proclamation to ban any beverage that removes that vital chemical may be in order.” Gage leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head.

Bertram poured tea through a strainer mounted across the top of his cup.

“You need sleep, sire,” Bertram said. “Word’s come back to me through the petty officer network that you’ve been to every section, every department. Your sailors are worried for you.”

“If it’s a choice between combat readiness and sleep, then there is no choice,” Gage said. “Battles are won before the first shot in anger, Bertram. It’s my…duty.” He dozed off for a second then snapped forward with a snort. He rubbed his face then took a hard sip of too hot tea.

“You’re out there telling crew chiefs to give their sailors some rest before we step into hell while you’re running yourself ragged. We do take leadership by example seriously, sire.” Bertram picked up Gage’s boots.

“They can rest. Not me. Are those…bread and drippings?” Gage sniffed at the air.

Bertram blushed and picked up the tray. “Forgive me, sire, those were meant for me. I heard you come in and panicked a bit to have something for you quick before you left again. Can’t be serving bacon-grease sandwiches to—”

“My mother wasn’t much of a cook.” Gage snagged the edge of the tray before Bertram could take it away. “But she’d have bread and drippings waiting for me somedays after I came home from school. Bacon grease makes everything taste better.”

Gage took a bite from a greasy slice.

“Emma took a liking to my recipe.” Bertram sat at the other chair next to the table. “Just a bit of marmalade helps the texture. Maybe she’ll make them for our boy. Or better. I’d rather my boy have cucumber sandwiches and real jam scones, not the chip butty I’d get round my parents’ payday…if I was lucky.”

“I find that food prepared with love makes any ingredient taste better,” Gage said. “How’s the ship? Morale, I mean. I take it there’s been enough time for every detail to have filtered ’round.”

“Our King fights with us shoulder to shoulder. No one’s looking back, sire,” Bertram said.

“I’m not—”

“You are in our eyes. You may have come from common stock like most of us, but you’re as noble as any of us could hope. Every last son and daughter of Albion’s for you. You’ve kept the light going.” Bertram wiped a tear away.

“Good…that’s good the men feel that way.” Gage yawned and nibbled on his bacon-grease sandwich. “Can you make some more?”

“I have a jar I had to hide from Emma. Be right back.” Bertram hurried to the kitchen.

“Thorvald,” Gage said, pouring milk into his tea and stirring with the proper back-and-forth motion of his spoon.

The door to his quarters opened and Thorvald stepped inside.

“Thorvald, it occurs to me that the best place for you during Operation Caliburn is not by my side,” Gage said.

“I beg your pardon?” Thorvald’s suit slipped off his head and packed onto his shoulders.

“We have a Genevan assault force, none of whom have ever been to Albion. That correct?” Gage asked.

“That is correct.” Thorvald’s face scrunched with confusion.

“Our hodgepodge of Marines can’t keep up with Genevans, not when you’re fighting in your suits. I want you with Fegeline and Steiner during the attack. You know New Exeter exceedingly well. You know the terrain.”

“My duty is to protect you,” Thorvald said. “If any boarders get to the Orion—”

“Then the battle is likely lost. I need New Exeter cleansed of Daegon. Driven out. A bold assault by Genevans that those bastards haven’t anticipated is key to moving the conflict away from the civilians and protecting innocent lives. If Fegeline gets lost in the Norwich neighborhood tangle, then the mission is failing,” Gage said.

Thorvald’s armor flowed over his eyes then slunk back to his shoulders.

“Grynau is against the idea,” Thorvald said. “Despite some software patches from Lord Ticino, there are still some problems.”

“Steiner has the royal seal of the Soluente Republic. He’s served as a bodyguard before. Most of the Ticino and Liestal contingents have as well. I will ask them to provide a bodyguard—or two—in your place. I doubt they’ll protest too much. The mission on the ground is vital, Thorvald. I can’t hold anything back.”

Thorvald’s helm reformed and he tilted his head slightly. “The sooner the fight is won, the sooner you’ll be safe. We agree,” Thorvald said. “But we do not like it.”

“Discuss it with Steiner. Give me his answer before next morning cycle, which is a mere…” He tried to focus on blurry numbers on a clock. “Three hours? Where does the time go? Dismissed.”

Gage shrugged off his tunic and laid it across the back of his chair. He was asleep before he hit his mattress.

Bertram returned a minute later, a warm sliced sandwich in hand. He took a step toward Gage with the intention of waking him up, but a single shake of Thorvald’s head put an end to that idea.

Bertram looked from the bread and drippings back to Gage.

“He meant for you to eat it.” Thorvald put a finger over where his lips would be on his visor.

“Oh…hadn’t thought of that.” Bertram backed to the galley. “That’s why he’s Commodore and I’m just a steward.”

“Ready his void combat uniform,” Thorvald said. “He’ll want that soon as he wakes.”

“Aye aye…good luck down there, Mr. Thorvald,” Bertram said.

“Anything happens to him…” Thorvald pointed two fingers at his eyes, then one finger at Bertram.

Bertram’s head bobbed from side to side, then he nodded and clutched the plate close to his chest like it was precious.

Chapter 10

“No…” von Trapp said as a void battle played out in a holo in front of him. “No! What are you doing?” He slammed a hand onto a dinner plate and swung it into the bulkhead. Smears of his last meal ran down the faux-mahogany panels.

In the small holo tank, Columbia ships separated and were quickly annihilated by a Daegon force.

“They lasted longer this time.” A holo of Klaven appeared in a chair. “How many more times do they need to be massacred before they realize they need to start listening to us?”

“That lard ass Kimball seems to think he knows what he’s doing.” Von Trapp shook his head. “But he doesn’t seem to have ever commanded a void ship before. I didn’t want to believe the intelligence reports that Columbia’s senior commanders were chosen by prophecy and not by competence and seniority…”

“Let’s not pretend that every flag officer in the Reich is as capable as the ribbons and medals on their chest would suggest,” Klaven said, his holo flickering.

“We don’t send those officers into the fire. We sure as hell don’t put them in command of an expeditionary force that…no. No no no!” Von Trapp slammed a palm against the table as the surviving Columbia ships turned about and attempted to break contact with the simulated Daegon force. Two carriers were destroyed within seconds.

“They’re going to get themselves killed and that’ll get us killed.” Von Trapp sat down. “Did Gage set us up? Did he know the Columbians were this inept?”

“The Columbians haven’t been in a proper war for…forty years? I’d suggest cutting them some slack.” Von Trapp shot him a look. “You’re right. They’ll get us killed,” Klaven added quickly. “At what point do we take Admiral Kimball to the woodshed and explain to him that his ships need to be under our command?”

“This is why I’m letting him drive me to drink, watching this amateur effort—did he really just order a grav anchor drop to try and cross the T? Moron! Any commander with more than ten minutes—” Von Trapp raised a hand as the Daegon unleashed a salvo of torpedoes that slammed into the slow-moving Columbia ships.

He glowered at Klaven. “You avoided my question about Gage. Did he know the Columbians would be an albatross around our neck?”

“‘There was a ship, quote he,’” Klaven chuckled. “And it was crewed by morons. No, cousin, I don’t think Gage set us up for failure. He had as much knowledge of Columbian capabilities as we did. And the other option would be for us to be in the invasion fleet with the Kongs while the Columbians were on their own.”

“We could be home.” Von Trapp slapped a palm on the control panel and the battle holo fizzled out. “We could be home prepping our own defenses. Instead…”

“Instead, we’re out here trying to win the war and salvage the Reich’s reputation with the rest of settled space,” Klaven said. “I believe Gage is competent. One well versed in realpolitik. He’s a good man that’s fighting as hard as he can for his people.”

“A good man,” von Trapp said, blowing out a slow breath. “I don’t trust good men. You never know when they’ll turn bad on you, then all that trust you put in them becomes an enormous liability. Give me a crooked man that I have leverage over. I know exactly what he’ll do at all times. So long as the leverage is maintained, things are under control.”

“You’ve spent too much time at the Kaiserina’s court,” Klaven said.

“And you haven’t spent enough,” von Trapp snapped. “You…you’ve been sniffing around the edges of the League with the Castle Itter longer than I have. How do we get the Columbians to stop being so incompetent?”

“How do we do that in the next…” Klaven glanced at a chronometer, “six days we’re in slip space and before we arrive at Albion? I was on an overt collection mission. Not bumbling through pirate territory looking for fortune tellers. But let’s ponder this…do the Columbians want to die fighting the Daegon?”

“Does the Hierophant promise them a bunch of virgins and mansions in the afterlife if they die at his command?” von Trapp asked, rubbing his chin.

“No, the totality of their deeds is weighed before a council of God, Jesus and…I think it’s their youngest deceased relative that’s older than them. It’s not an animal spirit anymore. There was quite the theological shake-up about a century ago,” Klaven said. “So they likely don’t want to be slaughtered at the Daegon’s hands.”

“Real vital observation, Klaven. They don’t want to die.” Von Trapp crossed his arms over his chest. “Very helpful,” he grumbled.

“The Hierophant put Kimball in command because of a ‘prophecy.’” Klaven used his fingers for air quotes. “But the individual ship commanders come up the chain through merit and they don’t want to die.”

“And the Hierophant is far, far away…” Von Trapp sniffed hard. He leaned forward and reconnected to the Columbians’ simulation feed. Another battle was underway, with similar results. “Look, you see that there?” He picked up a small stylus and pointed it at a Columbia squadron attacking a gap in the Daegon lines. “Competence.”

The Columbia task force seized up over the next few minutes and the Daegon pounced on them. The simulation cut out suddenly.

“Hmm…” Von Trapp gave Klaven a sidelong glance.

“Mmhmm…” Klaven brought a small margarita cup up to his mouth.

A hail came in from the Deseret, the Columbia flagship.

“If you’re right, you’re going to be insufferable about it, aren’t you?” von Trapp asked.

Klaven took a loud sip from his drink.

Von Trapp double-tapped a key and an obese man in a lime-green uniform appeared. His cheeks were flushed and sweat dripped down his face.

“Count von Trapp, this simulation’s settings are absurd! What did you do to it?” Admiral Kimball asked as shadows moved behind him.

“The sim data came from the Albion, Admiral,” von Trapp said. “They built it out from their fleet engagements along with the Indus. I haven’t adjusted anything. Problem?”

“Of course there’s a problem! I spent hours in prayerful consideration before the exercises and something is not working. We need to—”

A hand clamped down on Kimball’s shoulder. The feed cut out.

“Mmhmm…” Klaven swirled the ice around in his drink.

“You’re being an insufferable twat,” von Trapp said as he waited for the next hail, which came a minute later. A man with a thick jaw and a high-and-tight haircut appeared.

“I am Senior Captain Amon. Admiral Kimball has received a personal revelation and surrendered command to me. Count von Trapp, can we carry out joint simulated operations at your earliest convenience? We will fight alongside the Bismarck and Castle Itter. Failing to train with your vessels is…an oversight.”

Klaven slurped his drink again.

****

Seaver touched a button and a surgical suite’s privacy/sanitation screens flickered off. He stuck his head into the room and did a double take at a woman sleeping on the hospital bed, covered by a thin sheet.

“Mom?” He set his battle rifle against the suite’s wall.

Dr. Seaver sat up suddenly, blinking hard. “Huh? How many casualties? How many urgent surgicals?” she asked.

“Neither, Mom, it’s just me.” Seaver sat on the edge of the bed, his bulk causing it to tip slightly. He rested his forearms on his knees and stared at his hands. “You OK? I heard you had some problems while I was…away.”

“James? Oh, I’m so sorry. This is an old habit of ship’s surgeons. We stay in surgical the night before a battle. Keeps our mind in the right spot. Keeps us where we’re supposed to be in case the fight starts sooner than expected. It would be a tragedy if I was on the bridge and the ship was damaged and I couldn’t get here.” She kicked the sheet away.

“You smell…normal and your hands are shaking,” he said.

“I was put on alcohol suppressors without my consent.” Her upper lip curled. “Though I must admit it’s given me more time to focus on patients. A simple muscle relaxer keeps me steady when it’s time for surgery. You? You OK?” she asked.

“I don’t like all this downtime before a fight. Gives me too much time to think about…stuff.” Seaver rubbed his hands together. “Like Dad. I don’t know what’s happened to him. The Daegon said they’d kill him if I fought back or failed at what the bitch Juliae wanted me to do. But I did fight. I escaped. I don’t know if that was selfish of me or…”

“If it was me they were holding over your head, I’d want you to run. To be free and have the chance at life. I know your father really well. Shocking…but he’d want the same,” she said.

“It was my decision. What happens to him is on me.” Seaver rubbed his freshly shaved head. “I don’t want him to be dead because of me.”

“It’s the Daegon. They’ve done this to us, to everyone. But, son…I don’t want to lose you both.” She rubbed the top of his shoulders with one hand. “I can-can give you something. Make you too sick to—”

“No!” Seaver shrugged her touch away. “Everyone else on this ship, this whole fleet, is going to fight. I’m not going to duck out when I’m needed most.”

“There are plenty of others to fight. What about boarders? We’ve had to fight them off before. You can join the armsmen contingent and protect Gage. You don’t have to go down there.” She started crying.

“The Genevans are listening to me. I know how to fight them with my boots on the ground, not in the void. The Daegon did this to me. Turned me into this monster…I need to give them the gift back. Make them pay. I’m actually sort of good at this infantry thing, Mom. Gage needs us all. He needs our all. Stop…stop crying!”

He got to his feet and pressed his forehead against the bulkhead.

“You’re my little boy. You used to crawl in my bed every time you saw a cat outside because you were so scared of them. I can’t lose you too.” She patted a thigh pocket and pulled out a thin hypo spray. She clicked the dosage up to maximum and crept toward him.

Dr. Seaver jabbed the hypo at her son’s neck.

Seaver’s hand snapped out so fast his mother barely saw the blur. He caught her by the wrist, the hypo well short of her target. His grip was like stone as he slowly turned his head toward her.

“It’s…my relaxer. You’ll be fine. Just say it’s the Daegon’s gene enhancements that’ve sent you into withdrawals—”

“No,” Seaver said quietly. “I have to fight them. We have to win. It’s liberty or death, Mom. I’m doing this for you. For all the people who can’t fight back. Whatever happens…I love you. Love you and Dad. Goodbye.”

He let her go and slipped out of the room.

Dr. Seaver watched as bruises grew across her forearm and wrist. She dialed back the dosage on the hypo and pressed it to her neck, then collapsed on the bed and buried her face in the pillow.

Chapter 11

“Slip-space exit to the Lopburi system in three minutes,” Lieutenant Vashon called out from her workstation on the Orion’s bridge.

“Alert condition alpha. All stations button up,” Commander Price announced and helmets were donned across the bridge.

Gage snapped his neck seal shut and looked back to where Loussan and a pair of Genevans in their suits stood against the bridge’s bulkhead. The former pirate looked particularly uncomfortable, and Gage wasn’t sure if it was that he wore an Albion vac combat suit or that he would be held immediately accountable if the slip codes he provided were about to prove less than accurate.

Gage keyed a fleet-wide channel and a boson’s whistle played.

“Operation Caliburn is now in motion. If we have to fight through this system to reach home, so be it. Our allies are counting on us to begin our attack at the right time and from the right axis. We will not falter. We will not retreat. Albion’s light burns. I expect every sailor, Marine and citizen to do their duty. Gage out.”

He closed the channel and opened another to the Arjan Singh. Admiral Birbal appeared as a holo next to him.

“So concise,” Birbal chuckled. “An Indus commander would have never shut up.”

“I had plenty of time to prepare, which is why I was so brief,” Gage said.

“Lopburi…fringe system. What do you think we’ll find?” Birbal asked.

“Threat-wise, we’re about to walk face-first into a punch or absolutely nothing. What we’re going to find won’t be good, no matter what kind of welcome the Daegon have for us,” Gage said.

In the holo, alert squadrons reported ready for action and torpedo tubes lit up green across the fleet, weapons loaded and primed for combat.

“Huh…” Birbal glanced over his shoulder. “I hadn’t thought of that. This is the first time an Indus warship has fought outside League space in our history. Wars of aggression aren’t our way. Waheguru forgive us.”

“Injuries to your faith aside, I’m glad you’re with us. Coming out of slip in three…”

Gage queued up sensor feeds as the Orion returned to the normal void. No reports of mines or an ambush helped ease his mind just a bit. The planet Lopburi appeared in the holo along with derelict ships floating through the system.

“No sign of Daegon forces,” Price said.

Gage reached under the control panel and knocked gently on the faux wood. The sensor picture grew farther and farther out from the Albion and Indus fleets.

“Helm, set course at best speed to the home world slip point,” Gage said. “All ships are weapons free to engage targets at first detection.”

“Three hours to cross the system,” Birbal said. “Lot can happen.”

“Or nothing may happen. The ‘nothing’ concerns me more than combat,” Gage said. “If we see the trap before it’s sprung, then it isn’t much of a trap.”

“You asked for an unexpected arrival vector and I gave it to you.” Loussan was at the bottom of the short staircase leading up to the command-and-control dais. “May I?”

Gage motioned him up.

“You know, sometimes things go according to plan,” Loussan said. “We should appreciate our cunning and planning skills when that happens, not waste time looking for problems.”

“Don’t pat yourself on the back just yet,” Birbal said. “That sort of thinking is why your clans haven’t won a straight-up fight with a professional navy in almost fifteen years.”

“Straight-up fights are for fools,” Loussan snapped. “A properly executed ambush is always preferable to honorable combat. For me, at least.”

“Then help us find the ambush,” Gage said. “Guns, get me a full spectrum analysis on Lopburi. We had to leave people behind.”

“We’re skirting beyond the snow line,” Loussan said, frowning. “There’s no place to ambush us from. Daegon ships can’t hide their mass shadow, and even mines will have some detectible signature…though I wouldn’t expect aggressive thugs like the Daegon to use mines as part of their battle plan. Conquerors don’t spend much time thinking about defense.”

“Your assessment fits with what we know about them and what our sensors are telling us,” Gage said. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to turn on the smoking lamp or release alcohol rations either.”

Lopburi flashed in the holo as a sensor sweep came in. Gage opened the data and his heart sank.

“Massive atmospheric disruption,” Price said. “The nukes the Daegon dropped compounded the environmental damage from the meteor strike. Temperatures are below freezing even at the equator.”

“No detection of any technology,” Gage said. “Not even radar or navigation pulses. The whole planet’s dead.”

“We left engineers behind with plenty of equipment,” Price said. “They would’ve gone underground to escape the radiation…”

Gage pulled up infrared scans over Lopburi, the capitol city. Deep blast craters dotted the valley. What few buildings had survived were little more than decayed metal skeletons.

“By Caishen, even the Reich isn’t that brutal,” Loussan said. “Why?”

“Tiberian wanted to send me a message,” Gage said. “To prove he was just as ruthless as he claimed. The people of Lopburi didn’t deserve this. No one does.”

“We will avenge them,” Birbal said. “All of them.”

“Slip detection!” Vashon called out.

In the holo, a data point pinged in the outer system.

“Outgoing,” Gage said. “Likely a picket ship returning to Albion to warn the Daegon that we’re on the way.”

“We anticipated this,” Birbal’s head bobbed from side to side. “If it was a picket ship…then by the time it reaches Albion, we’ll be in slip space and hot on its heels.”

“I’m waiting for someone to say, ‘Well done, Loussan, you’ve done exactly what we asked of you,’” the pirate said.

“Congratulate yourself all you want. We’re still in combat condition,” Gage said. “Hephaestus, you’re a go for phase two.”

Captain Powell appeared in a holo window. “Aye aye, Commodore. I don’t suggest changing your IFF transponders for anything, unless you want a poor welcome on your return.”

“You understand what phase three means for you?” Gage asked.

“We retrace our path back to Lantau after seventy-two hours and Lieutenant Commander Nelson of the Epee is in command.” Powell licked her lips. “I’d rather it not come to that, you understand?”

“Nelson knows where to lead the Hephaestus, Epee and Fairbairn to reach Prince Aidan. He has the contingency plans in the event Operation Caliburn fails,” Gage said. “Godspeed to you.”

“I sincerely hope to see you again, triumphant, in the skies above Albion,” Powell said. “Hephaestus out.”

The holo window closed.

“You sure you don’t want me with your rear detachment?” Loussan asked. “Just in case they need an alternate route to wherever they need to go?”

“You’re fine,” Gage said. “Don’t ask again.”

“If I didn’t ask, then the answer was definitely ‘no.’” Loussan shrugged. “You want me here for the fleet action or—”

Gage pointed to the pair of Genevans.

“—or I’ll go make conversation with those two statues. Begging your pardon.” Loussan hopped off the command dais.

“I’m not complaining that we haven’t been ambushed,” Birbal said, “but anxiety levels are rising.”

“Why would the Daegon not fortify or garrison this system?” Gage asked. “Hubris? They never planned for a counteroffensive?”

“Plausible, but the Daegon prefer to mass their combat power for maximum effectiveness. If they peel off ten percent of their force to secure their supply lines, they won’t have much left by the time they reach the core systems,” Birbal said. “And there isn’t much to garrison here. Not anymore.”

“It was a beautiful world,” Gage said. “Beautiful people, and the Daegon destroyed it on a whim. We can never have peace with them—not that I was considering it.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Birbal said. “We won’t have the same welcome at Albion.”

“No, but at least we’ll have the element of surprise with us. Which we’re losing by the second. Price? Order shield power cut fifty percent across the fleet and shunt the power to engines. We’re almost home.”

Chapter 12

“Slip-space exit!” rang out across the Bismarck’s bridge. Von Trapp stood from his command chair and drew his sword. He brought the hilt up to his eyes in salute, then neatly swept the point toward the deck. Reich pre-battle traditions were absolute.

Real space returned and the Albion primary star shone brightly in the distance.

“Contact!” his XO called out.

“What?” Von Trapp sheathed his sword and buckled into his chair. A HUD activated on the inside of his visor and his jaw dropped as more and more threat icons appeared perilously close to his ship.

“Shields! Conn, forward one-quarter power. We need room to launch fighters before the rest of the—”

Von Trapp lurched forward as plasma bolts crashed against the prow.

“Castle Itter’s arrived…poor exit vector, she’s out of shield synergy range,” the XO announced.

“Damn it. Fire all torps, maximum acceleration at the nearest targets. They’re not in shield-wall range either.” Von Trapp reached forward and pulled data on the four columns of Daegon battleships and escorts to him. The deck shook again as enemy fire breached the shields still powering up.

The Bismarck’s initial torpedo volley was barely more than what a Reich battleship could throw out, as the dreadnought relied on its battery of spine cannons to win battles—spine cannons designed to engage at great distances, not in effective knife-fighting distances like he was in now.

“Emitter 12-delta off-line,” his damage control officer announced. “Shield link to our starboard vector nonviable.”

The Castle Itter—naturally—was on the Bismarck’s starboard side.

“These bastards know what they’re doing,” von Trapp growled. The enemy used its first strike to prevent the Bismarck from amplifying its shields with the Castle Itter.

The first torpedo volley hit home, smashing the first ranks of Daegon ships. They exploded into brief fireballs. Wrecks and nearby space crackled with static as the ship’s sensors struggled with the cacophony of data.

Spikes of light tore through the debris clouds.

“Incoming torps!” his XO shouted. Enemy munitions wavered on their course, then vectored straight toward his dorsal hull…and the mag coils for the spine cannons. There were too many too close to put his full trust in his point defenses.

“Helm! Emergency vector chop to port!” von Trapp shouted. He gripped his chair arms as the Bismarck rolled painfully slow. The grav plating lost its field integrity as the dreadnought tipped over like it was capsizing on a great sea.

Daegon torpedoes exploded into lances of plasma that tore through the Bismarck’s shields and blasted out craters on the ship’s underside.

The lights flickered and the grav plating made von Trapp’s stomach contract. Plasma bolts from the Daegon ships increased as they fanned out to form tiers of shield walls.

“Guns! I want a full spine cannon volley now! Disable the shells’ proximity safeties and set to function…” He jabbed points in front of him and sent the coordinates to the gunnery station. “Loose as soon as you have the firing solution. All four barrels!”

“While the shields are still charging?” The XO’s jaw dropped. “It’ll overload the—”

“We’re not getting a second shot with the spine cannons no matter what we do. We don’t strike now, we’ll lose the only chance to use our best weapon. Fire them all!” Von Trapp unsnapped the cover on his pistol holster.

“Aye aye.” Clarke nodded quickly.

Alerts flashed on von Trapp’s HUD and alarms sounded in his ears like a rattler’s tail.

The first of four spine cannons fired. The Bismarck bucked hard as the shell the size of a cargo transport shuttle burst out, slewing the dreadnought slightly to starboard. The shell punched through the debris field of the first destroyed Daegon ships and plucked a long trail of superheated gases behind it. It exploded into ultra-high-velocity shrapnel rings that expanded toward a still-forming echelon of Daegon battleships.

The spine cannon shell struck the Daegon shield wall, igniting it across the front. Shields buckled, and slivers of dense tungsten-uranium alloy struck enemy hulls, cutting gashes across the hulls and venting atmosphere into the void. Ships listed and fell out of formation.

The Bismarck fired again, sending bolts of jagged electricity coruscating up and down the barrel. Another Daegon formation was battered into broken hulls and raging fires.

As the third cannon built up charge…the magnetic coils failed. The barrel, nearly as long as the ship and twenty feet wide, fractured, the fore half flipping off the hull to tumble through the void like an errant baton. The rear tore through the Bismarck’s decks. The spine cannon destroyed power banks, releasing the electricity from the upper hull to the keel. Hundreds of crew were killed in a split second.

The bridge went dark and wisps of smoke crept through the deck plating. Von Trapp closed his eyes and lowered his chin to his chest. All sensors were down, but he felt impacts from Daegon fire and explosions deep within the ship.

He looked to his gunnery officer, who was still in shock.

“Excellent effects from the first two shots,” von Trapp said. He unbuckled from his chair and walked toward the forward windows of the bridge, watching the flare of incoming torpedoes coming for his ship.

He raised his chin, prepared to meet his end with his eyes open.

A mass passed across the fore of the Bismarck. Shields on the starboard side of the Castle Itter flashed, and flames and broken hull plates crumpled off the Reich battleship.

“Please don’t be dead in space,” Klaven’s voice sounded in von Trapp’s ear. “Please please please—”

“Asking nicely won’t change anything!” von Trapp snarled. He turned back toward his command seat as lights flickered back on and power came back to his bridge. “What have we got?” he demanded from his crew.

“Main cannons off-line, obviously,” his XO said. “No response from engineering…nothing.”

“Point defense turrets still online and firing,” the gunnery officer said. “Forward torp batteries are still viable, but most of the auto-loaders are malfunctioning—”

“Load and fire everything,” von Trapp said. “There’s no tomorrow. Teach the Daegon that we won’t—”

A blast sent him sprawling across the deck. He whacked into his command chair. The armor stiffened automatically but he still hit hard enough to break several ribs. He fought to breathe as his diaphragm spasmed.

He pulled himself up the side of his command chair and slammed a hand to the ship-wide address key.

“Bismarck…we are the pride of the Kaiserina’s Navy. We are bound by iron and blood. Fire off every munition you can. The more fire we absorb, the more lives we will save. Fight until you have nothing left, then abandon ship.”

“You can’t,” Klaven said, appearing in a small window on his visor. “Your engines are gone. I-I-I can keep the Itter in the line of fire. Transfer your flag to—”

“That is not what the Kaiserina expects of me,” he groaned, opening another data line to Klaven. The battle appeared on his HUD as Columbia ships came out of slip space. “I’m going to lead this fight as long as I can, Klaven. Then command will fall to you. The Kaiserina will expect no less of you than me when that happens. Now move the Itter five hundred meters forward and give my torps a clean shot.”

“I’m…I’m sorry I couldn’t—”

“I don’t want your apologies! I want you killing Daegon! Now lead your ship while I try and salvage this mess. Von Trapp out!” He glanced to his XO and bridge crew. “Get to your pods.”

“Count von Trapp, I must refuse,” the gunnery officer said from his wrecked workstation.

“As must I,” said his XO, looking up from a dead ensign.

“Then you will all face court-martial once the battle ends,” von Trapp chuckled and immediately regretted it as his torso rang with pain. He found the Deseret in the scrum of newly arrived Columbian vessels.

“Amon…Amon, do you read me?”

****

Lord Kodakai stood in the midst of a holo dome aboard the Musashi, his flagship. His jaw quivered as damage reports from his forward echelons trickled in.

The ferals appeared right in front of his fleet. He was not a believer in luck, but House Yasuda’s participation in the great reconquest seemed to be cursed.

“The lead feral vessel has suffered some sort of critical malfunction,” said Bak Jin, one of his senior counselors. “She’s listing badly. The fourth spine cannon is no threat to us now.”

“Order full deployment, crane formation.” Kodakai leaned slightly forward at the waist. “There’s no way they planned to meet us here. Their deployment is irregular and spastic. They’re as unready as we are.”

“The new arrivals appear to be of the Columbia clan,” Bak Jin said. “According to House Asaria, they haven’t fought a void war in decades. They’re unbloodied and afraid.”

“They’ll crumble under any attack,” Kodakai said. “Order the forward echelons to maneuver above and below the debris field and advance at best speed. We’ll outmaneuver their shield wall before they can reorient. No survivors. We’ll show House Asaria how pathetic they are compared to Yasuda. The ferals have handed us our first victory.”

“By your will.” Bak Jin bowed stiffly.

Chapter 13

Gage stood as the Orion came out of slip space. The star field around the Albion system felt like home.

“Exit point within a tenth of an AU as projected,” Price said. “Though our time dilation’s a bit off. We’re late and that means the Reich and Columbians should already be here.”

“Order the fleet into broadhead formation and take us to assault point alpha at best speed.” Gage hopped onto the operations holo dais and waited as sensor data compiled inside the 3D table.

Albion’s atmosphere was stained with smoke. The night side had far fewer light sources than he remembered and the absence of the old star forts that defended the world broke his heart. His home had changed since he’d last seen it, and for the worse. Much worse.

“Fleet entering formation as planned,” Price said as more and more icons appeared around the Orion at the tip of the broadhead formation. “Enemy screen over New Exeter and the command vessel.”

The Sphinx appeared in a small window, the dome-shaped ship dominating the skies over Albion’s capital.

“Nice that it’s shaped like a giant target,” Price said. “Should make firing on it that much easier.

“Any shot that misses will hit New Exeter. Our people have suffered enough. We’re not going to excuse any collateral damage.” Gage swiped a hand through the holo and shifted the view to the outer slip transition points. Sensor ghosts of the Yasuda fleets were indistinct at such great distances.

“Load standard torpedoes or…” Price looked at Gage through the holo.

“Not yet.” Gage swiped back to Albion. “They know we’re here but they’re not reacting. Meeting us in open space isn’t to their advantage,” Gage continued. “They’d rather fight us close to home, make us hesitate and consider every shot so we aren’t putting our own people at risk.”

“But we know they know that,” Price said. “And they know we know they know so…we stick to the plan.”

“So long as the Cathay and Reich-led contingents arrive on time, we won’t have to defeat every enemy ship all at once,” Gage said. “And if they don’t…this will turn into a fairly short offensive.”

“At least we’ve made it home,” Price said.

“Commodore…hail from Albion,” the communications officer said. “It’s for you.”

Gage twisted the holo around the Orion. There wasn’t a close or obvious threat that he could be distracted from.

“Put it through.” Gage stood up straight and clasped his hands behind his back.

Asaria appeared in the holo, her armor slithering over her body like a second skin. Behind her was Tiberian’s corpse, a burnt trough running from his missing chin down his sternum.

“Ah, there you are.” She canted her head slightly from side to side, as if he was a bobble in need of investigation. “Commodore Gage is here. Here on my throne world with every last warship Albion can scrounge together. I don’t know if I should feel impressed or disappointed.”

“Baroness Asaria, I presume.” Gage looked over her shoulder to Tiberian’s body.

“Oh, him.” She smiled slightly. “Failure has a price. Imagine how amused he’d be to see that you’ve brought yourself right to me. Why are you here, Gage? Some misplaced sense of duty? A desire to die in a blaze of glory?”

“You will remove your ships from Albion orbit and—”

“You think you’re in charge?” Asaria bared her teeth. “You think you’re in any position to command me?”

“I am the regent of Albion. It is my duty to protect my citizens to the best of my abilities. That duty brings me here, Asaria. Albion’s light burns and we’re here for you. We’re here to cast you back into the shadows,” Gage said.

“The Daegon are your history. We are your future. I am merely the vanguard, Gage. Submit and you may live. Fight and you doom your people to slavery and death,” she said.

“Surviving as slaves is no life at all. You know this. Humanity has thrown off your control before. We’ve never invited it back. You can only control what you conquer and we will not place ourselves in a slaver’s chains.” Gage raised his chin slightly.

They locked eyes for a moment.

“I don’t need your people, Gage,” she said evenly. “I will hang the remains of your hull in orbit so every time my subjects look up as they’re worked and starved to death, they will see the Orion and know it was you that brought this suffering onto them. Millions will curse your name as they die.”

“This is where the tide turns, you monster. This is the day when the Daegon learn once and for all that you will never control us. Now, are you going to accept that fact without further bloodshed or do I have to teach you that lesson with my guns?”

Asaria blew Gage a little kiss and the channel closed.

“I didn’t think that would end any differently,” Price said. “At least we don’t have to find Tiberian to answer for his crimes. Seems the Daegon took that trash out for us.”

“I doubt she intended to do us any favors.” Gage’s face hardened. “That he’s no longer a threat is one less worry…though Albion justice would have given him a quicker death. We’ll let the Baroness experience the difference. If she surrenders.”

“System-wide tactical operational picture’s coming together,” Price said. “Slip space readings for the Kong and Reich fleets are growing stronger. Daegon must detect that as well…but look at this.”

In the holo, hazy readings of a Daegon force moving toward the slip point leading to Cathay space resolved slowly.

“They’re going to catch the Reich as soon as they come out of slip space. They’re heading into a knife fight,” she said. “Readings are consistent with ships we saw escape the Oculus system.”

“They’re not coming about to defend Albion,” Gage said. “The plan—”

“Don’t jinx us, sir.” Price held up a finger.

“The plan is holding. Which is unusual whenever the enemy has a vote. We continue until factors change. We must force the Daegon out of the system or destroy them in place…without annihilating our own cities in the process. Send the Schrodinger order and ready interdiction squadrons.”

“Aye aye,” Price said. “It’s good to be home, Commodore, but we’re not there yet.”

“Victory or defeat, Albion’s Navy remains true to king and country,” Gage sighed. “Here we go…”

****

Asaria leaned forward on her throne and rested her chin on her palm as the battle between the Reich ships and House Yasuda continued.

“Time until this other attack materializes?” she asked General Antonius as she circled a sharpened nail tip at the slip transfer point leading toward Indus territory.

“The next few minutes,” Antonius said. A holo eyepiece over one eye fed him operational details. “Likely an Indus force or even Cathay. Hard to know for sure as our intelligence assets in both nations have gone silent.”

Cleon, the spymaster, fidgeted uncomfortably a few steps behind Antonius.

“Yasuda’s secondary fleet will meet them in the void far from Albion,” the Baroness said. “We have no reserves to counter the ferals. We will simply have to grind them down with our innate superiority,” she added with a hint of malice.

“They will break against us,” Antonius said. “This is desperation, Baroness. Their last hope.”

“And what does Gage think he can accomplish?” Asaria asked. “My ships are in low orbit over the major cities, their hulls gliding along the atmosphere. The Albion aren’t suicidal like the ferals on Concord.”

“He’s playing for a breakthrough of his other fleets,” Cleon said, raising a hand. “Hoping to overwhelm us in the skies over Albion. The Cathay and Reich will shed no tears to see this planet destroyed. They have much to gain if Albion’s not around to oppose them.”

“We are waiting.” Asaria scraped fingernails down the length of her armrest, clawing out tiny gouges. “We are reacting to Gage’s attack, not forcing his hand into a mistake…Antonius. Begin bombardment of Ledshire on the southern continent. A slow, methodical destruction. Let the Albion see that we’re taking our time with the killing. Then dispatch Albion merchant ships with our minders aboard to ram the Orion.”

“As you wish,” Antonius turned away and spoke into a disk mounted on the back of his hand.

Asaria sat back and pressed her fingertips together as civilian ships anchored over the southern pole of Ufernau lurched toward the oncoming Albion fleet. The first salvo from the Daegon ships over Ledshire struck the outer edge of the coastal city, destroying a bridge and highways leading inland. The next attack struck closer to the sea.

The Daegon commander over the city waited several minutes before striking again, marching the attacks another blast radius toward the ocean. The city’s inhabitants would have the choice between dying in their homes or fleeing into frigid waters.

“Albion torpedo launch.” Antonius snapped his head up toward the Baroness. Armor plates slid out from housings over the Sphinx into a solid dome. “They’re…they’re targeting us?”

Asaria pulled the general’s data feed to her and frowned. A volley of hundreds of torpedoes was in the void, their projected target converging directly at the center of the Sphinx.

“Useless.” Antonius shook his head. “The torpedoes are at maximum acceleration. They’ll use up all their on-board fuel before they reach our defensive phalanx. It serves no purpose other than to lessen our own countermeasures.”

“Ferals are so easy to manipulate.” Asaria smiled. “Now let’s watch them suffer.” She raised her hands and the polydermis armor formed into long ribbons that wound up her arms. The Sphinx’s controls appeared before her and she set a course out across the ocean, but she did not execute the order.

Antonius did a double take between her and his own holo projections. His mouth opened to object, but no words came out.

“We won’t go far,” she said. “I want to see the Albion’s attack strike their own city. Once they’re on a terminal attack vector and out of fuel, we will simply move out of the way. It will amuse me to watch the destruction.”

“There are reports of uprisings across the planet,” Cleon said, one hand to his ear. “May I depart to deal with the issue? I will have better command and control from the Albion bunker beneath the palace. It is well protected from any bombardment.”

Asaria dismissed him with a flick of her hand. “No need for mercy, Cleon. Any you capture will be fed to the golems,” she said.

“As you wish.” Cleon bowed and turned swiftly, the edge of his leather overcoat twirling up.

Asaria watched as the Albion torpedoes drew closer, then ordered the Sphinx to begin her slow course over the bay and out to sea, leaving New Exeter vulnerable to the oncoming attack.

****

“I am going to puke!” Tolan shouted from the back seat of the Typhoon piloted by Wyman as it rocketed forward.

“Don’t you dare puke in this cockpit! I need to see around us and I can’t do that if your lunch—that I told you not to eat!—is smeared all over the canopy,” Wyman said. “Our squadron’s received an interdiction mission and we’re dealing with that before I dump your clay-faced ass dirtside.”

“I don’t wanna—I don’t—erp!”

Wyman rolled his eyes as Tolan gagged. The merchant ships coming right for the Orion and the rest of her fleet were still sluggish as they cleared Ufernau’s gravity well, but they were coming right for Gage and the rest of the ships.

Marksman, the squadron commander, came online. “Cobras, fragmentary order to follow: escort on the troop carriers remains our current objective, but the Orion needs an assist on those cargo haulers. We’re to disable as many as we can without losing coverage on the troop ships. Be aware that those are our people on those ships. Do your best to disable them if you can. Destroy them if you must. We still have a time on target to hit.”

“Oh, God, that was awful,” Tolan groaned.

“You shut up! Just hold on…it’s about to get worse…for you.” Wyman tagged a cargo hauler and several point defense turrets pinged on the hull. He looked over one shoulder to the cluster of troop ships lagging behind the fighter escort he was supposed to provide. “Briar, what do you think the odds are that those turrets are manned by Daegon?”

“Ugh…I don’t know. If it’s our people in the turrets, then you’d think they’d have some convenient trouble trying to target us. But if the slave masters aboard find that out…don’t you have a spy guy in your fighter that might have a better idea?” she asked.

“Do you have a wet wipe or something?” Tolan asked.

“Do not break the seal or you’ll be breathing vacuum!” Wyman banged the back of his helmet against his headrest. “Getting promoted was not worth this—”

He banked his fighter hard as the forward turret on the merchant ship opened fire.

“Fuck it. Briar! Suppress the port turrets and I’ll make a gun run on the mag bottles. We don’t have to destroy it, just keep it from getting too close to the Orion,” he said. “Marksman’s giving us one pass at this. We either disable that ship or she’ll die to the big guns.”

“King’s Own didn’t shoot us down when they had the chance. I’m not going to let those smug bastards think they’re any better than me…making my run,” Ivor said.

Wyman fell a few dozen yards behind her as she maneuvered toward one side of the merchant ship. The vessel was the size of a cruiser and one giant target, but blasting the hull would accomplish little. The ship canted slightly as the two fighters closed, enough to give one turret a clean shot while moving another into defilade and preventing it from firing on them.

Wyman wasn’t sure if the captain was trying to help or not.

Tracer rounds snapped between the two Typhoons and Wyman sent his fighter into a corkscrew. Ivor let off a burst from her cannons, which peppered the edge of the turret and punched into thin hull plates.

The turret stopped firing and Wyman came out of his maneuver and banked toward the engines. The Typhoon juddered as he fired short bursts along the engine housings. A plume of blue energy spat from the engines and the merchant ship listed to one side.

Wyman and Ivor shot past the ship and rejoined the squadron. He checked a rear camera and confirmed the target was disabled. Some ships had taken more damage and his heart ached to see Albion vessels on fire or breaking apart.

“Spy guy…you’re not going down there to take prisoners, are you?” he asked.

“If the Daegon wanted mercy, they should’ve shown some,” Tolan said. “Just get me to New Exeter.”

“On the way,” Wyman said. Ahead, fires from Ledshire shown like a beacon as night fell on the city.

Chapter 14

“Then move the warheads to the other battery!” Klaven slapped the armrest of his command chair. “They’re not blowing up Daegon if they’re sitting in a magazine for an off-line torp node!”

“Moving live warheads during active combat is a sure way to destroy the entire rest of the ship!” shouted the Castle Itter XO.

“Get those warheads to battery A3 before it runs dry or I’ll insult your sister and you’ll be honor bound to challenge me to a duel and Rapoto will rip your arms off and beat you to death with them!” Klaven shouted.

The XO raised his nose for a moment, then nodded quickly and went to work.

“Daegon forward trace accelerating toward us!” the gunnery officer called out.

“Blast it.” Klaven slapped the side of his helmet and the battle popped up in his visor HUD. Close to the crippled Bismarck, the Castle Itter’s forward shields were cast across the Bismarck’s prow and absorbing occasional shots from the Daegon. The enemy were advancing toward the dreadnought, but one echelon’s course projected over the twin Reich ships, the other below.

The Columbia fleet behind the Reich contingent had formed into an irregular line in the void, smaller ships mixed into the heavy cruisers and small carriers that the Columbians preferred. They’d launched several torpedo volleys but weren’t close enough to fully join the battle.

“Klaven,” said von Trapp, appearing on his HUD. The count was bleeding from the nose and ears and one eye had swollen up. “Klaven, you need to pull back before it’s too late. The Columbians will crack if they’re caught in a pincer.”

“Ridiculous. Order them to change their formation to a Bach lens and advance to intercept…” Klaven traced maneuvers in the HUD. His heart fell when he realized that the Columbians were too far away to intercept the Daegon attack.

“The Daegon know you’re young. Stupid. And that you barely know how to fight the ship the Kaiserina gave you,” von Trapp said.

“Is this really the time for another dressing down?” Klaven asked.

“You need to play into what they expect! Break your shield wall over my ship and assault the dorsal pincer element,” von Trapp said as a navigation line traced from the Castle Itter toward the dozens of attacking Daegon ships from below.

“That’s suicide for you and me,” Klaven said at a loud whisper. The ship rocked as another hit crashed through the shields.

“You’ll take one or two on the chin. Roll with it and show those religious assholes how to fight,” von Trapp said. “The enemy’s split themselves up for us to defeat them in detail and you’re a fool if you don’t take it.”

“But the Bismarck—”

“He’s not going to survive this.” Von Trapp swallowed hard and grimaced. “But he will die like his namesake. Iron and blood, Klaven. You’re going to break off and leave him as a giant, amazing target that every Daegon will want a piece of. Then you’re going to become the commander the Kaiserina and I both know you can be.”

“I don’t know if I can…”

“Every soul on the Itter’s depending on you. You fail and the Columbians will be torn apart. You fail and the Reich may stay pariahs for generations more. You will not fail, Klaven. Break off now.” Von Trapp snapped his right hand up next to his eye in salute.

“Iron and blood.” Klaven nodded quickly then pushed von Trapp’s holo to one side. “Helm! Set course to…zero dash five-six mark eight-zero. One-quarter speed with steady acceleration to attack speed.”

The bridge was silent for a moment, then the helmsman repeated the order and the Castle Itter pulled away from the stricken Bismarck.

Hits against the Castle Itter slacked off as more distance stretched between the two vessels.

Klaven hailed the Deseret.

Senior Captain Amon appeared on his HUD.

“Amon, you will join my assault on the Daegon. I will leave some alive for you,” Klaven said.

“You’re leading us straight into the jaws of their attack!” Amon shouted. “We barely have as many ships in that—”

“You trust me now or we all die, Amon. Bismarck will sell himself dearly for our sake and there are consequences when a sacrifice is in vain,” Klaven said.

“Don’t quote our scriptures at me.” Amon’s face hardened.

“Then get your ass in gear and get into formation with me,” Klaven said.

“Moving now,” Amon said and muted his channel to Klaven.

“Not bad,” von Trapp said. “You’ve got the touch, Klaven. Put it to good use. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some final business to take care of. See that the Reich knows how we died.”

Klaven reached out, but von Trapp was gone.

****

Kodakai stared at the damaged Bismarck in the holo dome and licked his lips.

“The ferals spend so much time and effort to build a floating palace and it fails so spectacularly,” he chuckled. “But what a prize. What a grand trophy to mark House Yasuda’s return to direct rule.”

Kodakai turned to the other two lords.

“I want the bridge intact. We will throw it before the Kaiserina’s throne and see if she’s intelligent enough to surrender. We will then claim the entire Reich as our own,” Kodakai said. “Allow some Columbian ships to survive. They will spread fear across the feral worlds as they run back home with their tail between their legs.”

“It shall be done.” One of the lords raised her hands and began issuing orders.

“The other Reich ship is moving to confront one jaw of our attack,” the other said as the Castle Itter and Columbian fleet appeared in the holo.

“We outmatch them and they’ve left themselves open to attack once the other jaw clears their shield wall,” Kodakai shrugged. “This battle is over but for the dying. Let’s be done with it.”

The holo dome pulsed amber.

“Incoming fire from the feral dreadnought,” a crewman called out from beyond the dome. Kodakai’s brow furrowed as torpedoes streaked away from the Bismarck and made straight for House Yasuda’s flagship and Kodakai.

The stricken dreadnought pitched slightly upwards, lining its prow up with Kodakai’s ship.

“Pathetic,” Kodakai said, leaning close to the holo as the few torpedoes closed toward his ship. Daegon ships opened fire on the Bismarck. Plasma struck the starboard hull, buckling armor plates and gouging out ragged, flaming gills. More ships closed on the Reich vessel, adding firepower to the ship’s final moments.

The torpedo volley from the Bismarck battered at Kodakai’s shields, accomplishing little more than a wave of dissonance across the energy wall. The forward shields fluctuated, spawning several warnings across the holo dome.

“Lord?” came from his bodyguard.

Kodakai waved a dismissive hand over a shoulder.

“Energy spike from the Bismarck!” a crewman called out.

“Make sure we capture its final moments from several angles,” Kodakai said. “We’ll finish off the life pods after—”

“No, sire, it’s the spine cannon!”

“What?” Kodakai turned and looked between the other two lords.

The first barrel of the Bismarck’s spine cannons powered up. The dreadnought juddered as it loosed a final shot. The hypervelocity shell escaped the barrel a millisecond before the ship exploded as the magnetic accelerators failed.

The Bismarck shattered into a nova of flame and debris that crushed nearby Daegon ships and smothered them in fire and metal. The spine cannon shell struck the Yasuda flagship’s forward shield at a trough in the energy wall and pierced through like a needle into flesh.

Kodakai’s jaw dropped just in time for him to realize that his conquest was about to end with much less glory and fewer riches than he’d planned. The spine cannon shell cored through his ship and burst out of the engines.

****

Klaven sat back in his command chair as the Bismarck dissipated into wisps of air and smoldering debris. Part of him wanted to weep at the loss of life; another part wanted to cheer at the ship’s final act of defiance and the destruction he wrought.

“Klaven?” Amon appeared on his HUD. “Klaven, what do we do now?”

Klaven shook his head. This was not the time to mourn.

“We need to…” He watched as Daegon vessels near the destroyed flagship seemed frozen in place. “Attack. Attack! Do you understand me, Amon? Bismarck bought us a chance and we can’t waste it. Guns! Focus fire on the closest Daegon battleship and bring it down.”

“Aye aye,” the gunnery officer said.

Castle Itter rumbled as the cannon batteries rocked back on their chassis. The shots battered a Daegon ship and knocked its shields off-line. A second volley smashed the forward diamond-shaped hull sections and the aft tipped upwards.

Columbian ships caught up to the Castle Itter and bombarded the lower maneuver element closing on the allied contingent. The Daegon attack faltered as their cannons fell silent.

“Fire it all. Fire everything!” Klaven slammed a fist against his armrest.

“We’ll have nothing left for the other half of their fleet,” his XO called out.

“Crush them!” Klaven watched as the Columbian fleet unleashed hundreds of missiles and loosed simultaneous volleys of cannon fire that battered against the Daegon like hammer blows.

More Daegon ships fell as the minutes ticked on.

“Come on, come on…” Klaven tapped fingers together. “Make up your minds…”

“Sir! Upper attacking force is changing course,” his XO said. “They’re turning about for the slip point to wild space.”

A cheer went up through the bridge.

“Klaven! We’ve won! Shall we pull back?” Amon asked. The ships under fire by the Reich and Columbian’s formation came apart as individual ships broke off the line and turned about to run.

“No.” Klaven shook his head. “No. We run them down. Kill them while they’re weak and vulnerable. We show mercy now, more will die in the future. Accept any offers to surrender.”

He turned the Castle Itter’s sensors to the Bismarck’s debris field. There were no distress beacons from any life pods.

“Daegon aren’t known to surrender,” Amon said.

“Then we kill them until they figure it out,” Klaven said.

Chapter 15

“Atmo punched!” Wyman shouted as his fighter broke into the skies close to New Exeter city. Heat shields retracted off his canopy and the tops of skyscrapers peeked over the horizon. “Briar, keep an eye out for—”

Alarms blared through the cockpit and Wyman pulled up sharply as chaff and heat flares automatically ejected from the back of the Typhoon. A red square on his HUD lifted off from the forests and arced toward him, a tiny black dot of the Daegon missile in the center.

“Anything I can do to help?” Tolan asked.

“Shut up!” Wyman flicked a cover up and mashed a button.

The Typhoon’s engines cut out. The fighter drifted along for a few seconds, then the nose tilted down.

Tolan panicked, his arms waving about, nothing but unconnected vowels coming out of his mouth. The missile streaked overhead and exploded behind them. Wyman mashed the button again and the engines roared back to life. He pulled the nose up and recovered from the dive. The engines ignited treetops as it lifted up to a climb.

Missiles shot overhead and impacted through the national park that surrounded the eastern part of New Exeter.

“This is Crusader, got bogies coming in from the ocean. King’s Own will intercept. All squadrons join the battle soon as your precious cargo is down,” Captain Hopkins said.

“You hear what he called me?” Tolan asked.

“You are costing me kills…just sit tight a moment.” Wyman dipped down, treetops missing the bottom of his fuselage by bare yards as Cobra squadron escorted troop carriers over the forest.

Wyman pulled into a circle as the troop carriers landed in an overgrown clearing with picnic tables and parking lots. He set his Typhoon down between the carriers and the forest and popped the seal on the canopy.

“Out out out!” Wyman unbuckled his seat belts and stood up. He turned and slapped Tolan’s hands away from his buckles and twisted them for the spy. Tolan tried to stand, but his legs had gone to rubber.

“There’s no ladder?” Tolan flipped the visor of his helmet up.

“I swear to—”

Blue plasma bolts spat from the tree line, hitting the Typhoon’s engine and rocking the fighter forward on its landing gear. The forward strut failed as the wheel was blasted off and the entire thing tipped forward.

Wyman fell out of the cockpit and rolled through tall grass as machine-gun fire chattered around him and bullets snapped overhead. He went prone, his hands over his helmet as the smell of smoke and the crack of flames rose around him.

The toe of a silver metal boot nudged his shoulder. Wyman looked up and saw Thorvald standing over him, smoke rising from the barrel of his carbine.

“Are you hurt?” the Genevan asked.

Wyman sat up and looked at his wrecked fighter. He slipped his helmet off with one hand and let it drop to the ground.

“It’s not…it’s not fair!” Wyman shouted.

“Uh oh!” Tolan popped up from the grass. Thorvald instantly aimed his weapon at him, but then lifted the barrel. “Flyboy’s down here with the ground pounders. What’s the matter, Freak Show, you don’t get to slap on a kill counter if you shoot Daegon in the face with a proper gun?”

“You two-faced cocksucker!” Wyman lunged at Tolan, but Thorvald stopped him with a metal encased hand to his chest.

“Our orders are to get Tolan into the city and then seize the Palace,” Thorvald said. “I do not recommend you stay here.”

Genevans, dozens of them, rushed out of the field and into the woods. The occasional burst of fire pierced through the sound of fire spreading from the destroyed fighter.

Wyman drew his pistol from the holster on his chest. “I’m a pilot,” he said, his arms flopping against his sides.

“Now you’re a bullet catcher.” Tolan slapped a magazine into a Cathay pulsar. “Luckily, you’re surrounded by the best bullet catchers in the galaxy.” He smiled at Thorvald. “No offense.”

“None taken. Now move out and keep up with us.” Thorvald motioned to the forest.

“I’m a pilot,” Wyman whined.

****

Seaver dove behind a car as a plasma gun opened up from within a building. Searing bolts stitched across the road and nearly clipped his heel. He rolled when he struck the road and stopped prone next to the wheels. He fired on a blown-out window where he was fairly certain the incoming fire had come from.

A Genevan flashed past him. He caught a glimpse of silver jumping through the same window. Plasma bolts blew out the walls, followed by a Daegon soldier. The foe slammed against the sidewalk and slid to a stop next to Seaver. Blood seeped from a crushed helmet as one foot twitched.

“Up.” Colonel Steiner grabbed Seaver by the back of his flak jacket and hoisted him up onto his feet. “What is this structure?”

A holo popped up on the Genevan’s arm along with a grainy image of a building pockmarked by bullet holes as they rushed to a wall for cover.

“Ugh…a library. Not a key target,” Seaver said.

“Then it’s another building the enemy has booby-trapped. Here?” Steiner brought up another image.

“Police headquarters for the Clerkenwell district. Should have reinforced walls.” Seaver checked the round count on his weapon.

“Get over there. You escort that one.” Steiner ducked away and vanished. Seaver turned around at the sound of wheezing. Wyman stumbled against the wall, his face flushed, his chest heaving.

Explosions roiled in the distance as Seaver waited for the pilot to recover.

“Are you going to fall over dead from just running?” Seaver asked.

“Pilot…I’m a pilot.” Wyman waved his pistol over his head between gasps. “How you…how you…no tired?”

“Daegon altered my body and made me addicted to them to stay alive. Where’s the other civilian?” Seaver asked.

“He pissed off. Something about tunnels. Said not to worry about him. Which is fine…by me.” Wyman accepted a hand up from Seaver, the sound of gunfire and plasma bolts intensifying in the distance.

“Which way are we going?” Wyman asked. “I think I used to live a few blocks from here…”

“Toward the sound of gunfire.” Seaver shouldered his weapon and took off at a run. He glanced at a fallen Genevan propped up against a wall, her armor pockmarked by several plasma strikes.

A heavy blast struck the top floor of a nearby building and sent a shower of glass over Seaver’s shoulders. He did a combat peek around a corner and reared back as a burst of enemy fire hacked at the edge of the wall and sent slivers of brick and metal into his face. Seaver wiped a bit of blood from a slight gash and inched back across the wall.

“You just stay here and let us handle it,” he said to Wyman. The pilot looked at his small pistol and gave Seaver a thumbs-up. Seaver waved to a trio of Genevans across the street and tried to get their attention, but their faces were hidden behind visors. They either didn’t notice Seaver or were ignoring him.

An electric wub wub wub rose in the air. Seaver froze and a bit of fear he didn’t know he could still feel blossomed in his chest.

“Oh no…”

There was a rumble as bricks crumbled from a wall and toppled against each other.

“You!” He pointed a knife hand at Wyman. “Run!”

He turned back to the Genevans and his world disappeared in a blast. Seaver’s mind went into flux, while a deep seed of pain kept him from thinking he’d died. He coughed and powdered brick puffed out of his mouth. He raised an arm and pushed broken glass away from his face.

A Daegon walker towered over him, the tripod legs telescoping the walker’s battle pod slightly higher than the surrounding buildings. Heavy plasma cannons mounted on gimbals around the battle pod chugged as they blasted Genevan squads. A leg with a splayed clawed foot rose and swung toward Seaver.

Seaver thrust his arms forward and tried to pull himself out of the rubble. His ankle caught on something, and he huffed and cried out as the sound of hydraulics in the walker’s leg grew louder. He pulled his stuck leg forward and there was a crack as broken masonry gave way.

Seaver rolled as fast as he could as the walker’s foot came down. It thudded into the street and bounced Seaver away. He looked up to the underside of the walker’s pod. The metal plating was smooth, but for the outlines of a few compartments.

Plasma cannons flashed, leaving hot afterimages across his eyes. He fumbled at one side and found his battle rifle hanging from a strap around his neck. Seaver gave it a quick shake and aimed it skywards. Setting the sights on the power cables running into one plasma cannon, he fired on full auto. Bullets pummeled and tore at the wires until a flash of blue fire knocked him flat against the road.

The walker lolled to one side, one leg slack in the air. The Daegon machine recovered as it brushed against a building and all three legs braced themselves. A compartment opened beneath the pod and a smaller plasma turret extended down. The tri-barrel snapped toward Seaver and spun up.

Seaver raised a middle finger to the machine and spat blood.

A Genevan leapt through a second-story window and caught the turret. He braced his feet against the underside of the pod and manhandled the weapon as it tried to retract. The Genevan unsnapped a grenade off his waist and knocked the top against the turret to activate the time fuse, holding it for two very long seconds before chucking it into the open hatch.

The Genevan surrendered to gravity and executed a wide-armed flip like a diver off a high board, landing on his feet next to Seaver. He scooped the soldier up and launched them both against a door. The Genevan took the impact on the shoulder and then rolled so Seaver’s bulk landed on him instead of the hard concrete floor.

The walker exploded with a giant crack that shattered any surviving windows in a three-block radius.

Seaver struggled to his feet, his weapon heavy in his hands. His ears rang with a high pitch from the explosion and blood seeped down his face and arms from dozens of tiny cuts.

“You were correct on how to best engage the walkers.” The Genevan raised a hand and scanned Seaver. A tiny nozzle opened on his wrist and sprayed an antiseptic mist over Seaver’s face. Giving him a quick nod, the Genevan hopped out a blasted window.

Seaver wiggled a loose tooth with his tongue. There was a rustle behind him and he spun around.

Wyman peeked over a windowsill, his pistol shaking in one hand.

“What in the hell was that?” the pilot asked.

“Genevan…just some Genevan. Come on, still Daegon left to kill.” Seaver shouldered his weapon.

Albion fight 2]

“Sphinx has cleared New Exeter,” Price announced.

Gage nodded and peered closer into the holo as the command ship slipped over land and to the sea. The Daegon fleet overhead moved as well, giving the oncoming storm of torpedoes a clear shot straight to the city. Telemetry data from the weapons fizzled out as the Daegon began jamming.

He watched as the torpedoes struck parks and highway intersections across the city. Each impacted into a cloud of dust or crumbled into smithereens, strewn across roadways as they inflicted minimal damage.

“Torps with no warheads,” Price said. “Possibly the least effective long-range strike in the history of warfare.”

“Their purpose was to get the Sphinx and her fleet escorts away from the city. Mission accomplished,” Gage said. “Guns! Loose!”

“Aye aye!”

The Orion shook as every torpedo tube across the ship emptied. The next volley blossomed away from the Albion fleet and converged toward the Daegon screen over the Sphinx.

Gage changed the holo table’s view toward the oncoming merchant ships. A half dozen were still on an intercept course with the Orion, a once grand passenger liner slipping ahead of the pack.

“That’s the Majestic,” Price said. “I always wanted to have my honeymoon aboard her. We’ve got too much forward velocity. We try and maneuver out of the way, it’ll tear the ship apart.”

“Gunnery, transfer targeting controls to my station,” Gage said. A new overlay appeared in the holo tank. “Heaven forgive me.”

He sent a firing solution to the forward batteries and put his own authorization code on each order. Seconds later, the Orion spat plasma bolts across the void. The first shots struck the Majestic across her wide, windowed prow. She carried no shields, no armor plating. The impact shattered the front of the ship and blew out the upper hull. More impacts fractured the alabaster line of her keel and knocked her off course like a bird felled by an arrow.

The rest of the surviving merchant vessels didn’t last much longer.

“Did Asaria do that to test our resolve or just to force us to kill our own people?” Price asked.

“I suspect both,” Gage said. “Conn, ready a high atmo insertion. I want us between the Sphinx and New Exeter once the battle is joined. Guns, we’ll engage the enemy command ship side on. If we can take her down in one volley, it will save lives.”

“If appreciation for Albion firepower is the last lesson those bastards learn, then I’ll be happy to teach them,” Clarke said from the gunnery station.

“See to it.” Gage watched as the bombardment of Ledshire continued its slow, lethal cadence across the city. Too far away to do anything but watch, Gage switched the holo table to a system-wide view. The battle between the Cathay and Reich contingents against the Daegon fleets still raged in the distance.

“Come on, Han and von Trapp…we all have to win.”

****

Seaver dove behind a wall as rifle fire broke out from a rooftop. Thorvald swung the barrel of his carbine over Seaver and dumped an entire magazine on his assailants. Seaver pulled his feet under him and into a squat.

“Those aren’t Daegon,” Seaver said. “Slave soldiers use solid rounds. That means there’s a Daegon officer nearby. Take that one out and the rest will probably give up.”

Rifle fire picked up, drowning out the rest of the battle through New Exeter with steady rattles laid over one another.

“They chose to make a last stand at Angelo Tower,” Thorvald said. “Good decision. There are multiple ways out through tunnels.”

“Doesn’t that mean there are multiple ways in?” Seaver asked.

“Indeed.” Thorvald looked up, then glanced out a window. He sprinted toward a plasterboard wall and rammed through it. He straightened a hand and the armor shifted into a sharpened shovel shape and he punched into the floor. Hefting up a hatch, he shined a light from his carbine into a dark tunnel.

The crack of Genevan weapons and grenade blasts sounded from Saint Angelo tower.

Thorvald motioned to Seaver and the soldier dropped into the tunnel.

Overhead lighting flickered on and a deep musty smell stung Seaver’s nose. He covered one side of the tunnel as Thorvald dropped behind him and the hatch closed with a clang that resounded down the tunnel.

“We need to join the assault,” Thorvald said. “An attack from an unexpected direction will—”

“No.” Seaver cocked an ear up, trying to listen for anything but the muted battle overhead. “No, the Daegon aren’t the kind to die in place when they have others they can sacrifice. They’ll run soon as things get bad and it sounds like that’s happening.”

“This tunnel runs to an old armory, not to the palace,” Thorvald said. “Follow me.”

The two jogged down the tunnel to an intersection. One pathway’s lighting flickered on and off. Seaver caught the flash of a red cape as someone ducked down another side path.

Thorvald took off at a dead sprint then slid feet-first across the new passageway.

A sword flashed out and slashed the air over Thorvald’s face. The sword buried deep in the corner. Gustavus cursed and wrenched it free as the Genevan opened fire.

Gustavus’s body armor shifted and thickened against the bullet strikes up his arm and flank. He freed his sword with a flick of his wrist and stabbed at Thorvald’s midsection. Thorvald parried the tip away with the barrel of his carbine and stepped inside Gustavus’ guard. Thorvald jabbed an elbow into Gustavus’ face and knocked the man back.

Gustavus tossed his cape up with an arm, blocking Thorvald’s vision for a split second. Gustavus unsnapped a plasma pistol from his hip and turned the barrel up and fired. The bolt glanced off Thorvald’s shoulder, knocking him off-balance.

“Hey!”

Gustavus snapped his head to one side in time to see the butt of Seaver’s carbine bash into his face. The blow shattered his nose and sent a flash across his eyes. Seaver unloaded an entire battle rifle magazine into Gustavus. Bullets ricocheted off the advanced armor, but several broke through and punched out of Gustavus’ back.

The Daegon dropped his weapons and fell back, looking up at Seaver, pure hatred on his face. Gustavus dragged himself back and Seaver noticed a body lying in the passageway behind Gustavus.

Juliae stared at the ceiling with dead eyes. One arm was severed at the elbow, the left side of her armor fire-blackened and mangled.

Seaver dropped his magazine and slapped in another.

“Doesn’t matter what you do.” Gustavus wiped blood from his mouth and lifted Juliae up, slumping her against his chest. “You’re going to die. Slaves like you…will never be free again.”

“I’m already free.” Seaver readied his weapon. “I wish I’d been the one to kill her…but you’ll do.”

“Novis…” Gustavus unsnapped a grenade from Juliae’s back and lifted it up. “Novis regiray!”

The pin flew off the grenade.

Seaver didn’t see Thorvald when the Genevan tackled him from behind, but he felt the impact against the ground and tasted the brackish water of the puddle when he landed in it face-first. Thorvald’s armor blossomed out into a cocoon as the grenade exploded and the floor slapped into Seaver’s face.

He waited a few seconds then squirmed against Thorvald’s bulk. The Genevan stood up and floodlights mounted on his shoulders turned on. Smoke listed against the top of the tunnel.

“Are you hurt?” Thorvald asked.

“I’ll be fine.” Seaver tapped the heel of his hand against a temple to try and knock loose whatever was ringing. His foot brushed against something metal and he picked up Gustavus’ sword. Bits of seared flesh snapped and popped against the blade.

Thorvald snapped a hand out to knock the blade away but Seaver jerked it away.

“Touching the handle should’ve killed you,” Thorvald said. “It’s DNA coded to them.”

“They’re still a part of me,” Seaver said, raising the weapon up, “but I am free of them.”

Chapter 16

Gage watched as the Bismarck exploded in his holo table. The Cathay and Indus fleets were in heavy contact several AU away, but they were holding their own.

“We’ve reached the upper atmosphere,” the conn officer called out. A distant dawn stretched out over the ocean ahead of the Orion.

“Triple-decker formation. We’ll clear the curvature of the planet and into direct fire with the enemy very quickly. Shields will be weak in the atmosphere,” Gage said.

“Second torp volley’s still coming in.” Price flicked her fingers in the holo and the terminal attack vector from the torpedoes appeared. The weapons were coming down close to New Exeter, pushing the Sphinx and her escorts farther away from the city. The intelligence collection warheads mixed into the more lethal payloads relayed information to Gage and his fleet.

“All ships, prepare for third mass volley,” Gage sent across the fleet. Readiness indicators popped up over each ship as the last of their torpedoes were activated and tube hatches opened. The Orion jostled a little as her flight profile changed ever so slightly in the thin air.

“Effectiveness won’t be much,” Price said. “We’re shooting over the horizon and relying on the trackers we can stuff in the warheads.”

“Just need to keep them looking our way for a bit longer,” Gage said. “Guns. You may fire when ready.”

“Aye aye!”

The Orion rumbled as she let the last of her torpedoes fly. The weapons shot up and bent hard toward the Daegon fleet still too distant to be seen directly. Other munitions skimmed the ocean, leaving long wakes in the water as they vanished over the horizon.

“Price, call in our fighters over New Exeter once the battle’s joined,” Gage said.

“S-sir?” Price voice went ragged. “I mean…aye aye. I’m a bit scared of dying, but if we can hit them hard enough…we’ve won. Albion will be free.”

“That’s worth my life,” Gage said. “I made that decision a long time ago. Godspeed to us all.”

“Incoming!” came from the sensor officer.

In the holo tank, diamond icons of enemy missiles—mercifully fewer than Gage anticipated—streaked toward the Albion fleet. Some of the Daegon’s attack must have gone down when their missiles tilted against his torpedoes.

A missile burst ahead of the Orion and a coherent blast of plasma cut across her forward shields. The beam broke through, striking the upper edge of the prow. Debris danced across the upper hull and snapped against the forward windows. The sound of the explosion carried through the thin air and Gage cocked an ear at the strange noise.

“Right, not complete vacuum,” Price said. “We’ll hear the big guns for once.”

In the holo, the Gladius blinked with damage. The destroyer fell out of formation and corkscrewed toward the ocean, trailing black smoke.

“Ajax reports heavy damage to several decks,” Price said.

Gage motioned the ship’s wire diagram closer to him. There was fire across several decks that could rage out of control. They weren’t in the void where opening enough compartments to space could extinguish any fire.

“Vult, pull back and regain altitude,” Gage sent to the Ajax’s captain. “Get your damage control parties to work.”

Vult appeared in the holo, a look of defiance on his face. “I must respectfully refuse, Commodore. My ship can still fight and maintain formation. We take any more hits from the enemy, then that’s less damage to the rest of the fleet. She won’t—”

A blinding flash shifted shadows across the Orion’s bridge and she drifted to one side.

The Ajax was gone from the holo.

“Targets on the scope!” Clarke shouted.

“Fire at will, but keep the spine cannons at the ready,” Gage said.

Cannons sounded across the fleet and yellow bolts of energy punched out. Each shot left a trail of superheated air behind it as they closed on the Daegon fleet providing top cover to the Sphinx. The command vessel still wasn’t in view.

The Albion fire dissipated slightly in the upper atmosphere, but enough struck true to take out several battleships. Daegon return fire battered the Orion and Gage braced himself against the holo table as the shields faltered.

“Frigates! Engage spine cannons!” Gage ordered. He focused on the holo as the Perilous and Firebrand rose above the rest of the fleet. The frigates’ smaller spine cannons struck out like thunderbolts, the overpressure from shattered air sending a crack through one of the starboard windows.

Twin stars flared in the Daegon fleet as the rounds annihilated a pair of enemy ships.

“Now, Price!” Gage slapped the control panel.

“Executing,” she said.

Ahead, the dome of the Sphinx appeared in the distance. Gage glanced at the sensors and confirmed that she was rising slowly away from Albion. The Orion’s computers projected Asaria’s vessel on a course to the slip point to Lantau.

She’s running, Gage thought.

“Enemy accelerating to intercept,” Price called out. “Are they going to ram us?”

“Doesn’t matter. Guns! Ready spine cannons to fire on the Sphinx!” Gage ordered.

“The enemy has too much of a shield wall between us and the target,” Clarke said. “We might not get a second shot, and if the target’s shields are as strong as sensors say then—”

“The shot misses if we never take it!”

The Orion rocked as a cluster of shots blasted against the upper hull. Damage reports flashed in the holo and Gage swore he caught the smell of smoke.

“Orion, stand by. We read your intent and will assist,” Crusader said, appearing in the holo. Blue icons of Typhoon fighters appeared at the edge of the tank coming in fast toward the Daegon’s flank.

The flank where they didn’t have their shields orientated for protection.

Albion squadrons danced through incoming fire and wound through the Daegon ships. Typhoons fell every second but their attack continued. Enemy ships fired on each other in the confusion in a desperate attempt to take down the attackers.

Missiles spiraled away from the fighters. Several struck home, ripping Daegon ships apart. Some fell out of formation toward the sea, but the shield wall protecting the Sphinx held. Far too many missiles were intercepted by Daegon point defense batteries.

“Gage…Albion’s light burns. Crusader out.” Hopkin’s Typhoon accelerated forward. He flew through the fireball of a dying battleship and came out perilously close to the ship at the center of the shield wall.

“No!” Gage reached into the holo.

Crusader slammed into the weak joint in the diamond-shaped hull sections of the Daegon lynchpin. The missiles still aboard his fighter ignited and ripped the Daegon ship in half. The shield wall flickered as the enemy fought to reform amidst the destruction.

“Guns…bring her down,” Gage said.

The Orion rose over the rest of the Albion fleet and a deep thrum rattled the deck plating. The spine cannon fired with a nova burst of light, blinding Gage for a few seconds. The ship listed hard to one side as power systems and engines malfunctioned.

“Helm!” Gage hooked an arm around the holo tank’s control panels and caught hold of Price as she fell past him. She clutched him by the waist and held on for dear life.

The ship righted herself and the horizon became level.

“I’m pretty sure I heard the mag chambers pop,” Price said, putting a hand to Gage’s chest and pushing herself back to her station.

“Hit!” Clarke called out. “It’s a hit!”

The holo tank was a riot of static and corrupted data. Gage rushed to the front of the bridge and saw the Sphinx with his own eyes. Its shields were gone and it wobbled as it spun. The command ship sank toward the ocean as it rotated around. A burning hole in the bottom superstructure ring appeared. Anti-grav engines failed, exploding into smoke and flame. With each flash of light, the Sphinx fell faster and faster.

It tipped over and one edge struck the shallow coastal waters. It broke down a center line and a giant plume of smoke and fire reached to the sky.

“We did it?” Price asked from Gage’s side. “We did it!”

“Surviving enemy ships are breaking for orbit,” Clarke said.

“After them?” Price asked.

“No…no, we’ve won this day,” Gage said. “We need the strength to win all the days that come after.” He jogged to the gunnery station and took command of the battle once again.

****

Cleon and a meager retinue hustled into a small hangar beneath New Exeter. A Daegon shuttle was waiting for him, side hatch raised and open.

“Take me to the Sphinx,” the spymaster said. “This city is lost.”

Cleon kept one hand on the side of the hatch and stared at the pilot, who wasn’t moving.

“Answer me!”

A small light flashed on and off beneath the pilot’s seat. Cleon’s eyes went wide and he turned away. Several small bombs emplaced across the shuttle went off, blasting Cleon away and sending him flying across the hangar. His armor kept him from sustaining grievous injuries, but he had the wind knocked out of him and took a good knock to his head. His lower legs went numb as painkillers flooded his body.

The sound of single pistol shots echoed around him.

Cleon crawled toward the exit. His armor had tightened hard around his feet and ankles to compensate for the broken bones. He focused on a stairway and the promise of escape. There was a pinch against the back of his neck and his muscles locked up as electricity crackled through his body.

Tolan flipped Cleon onto his back. Cleon’s jaw was clamped shut from the crawfish immobilizer attached to his spine. His face twitched and a low growl rose from his throat as Tolan waggled fingertips at him.

“Hi…” Tolan said. “The Albion Intelligence Ministry sends its regards. I didn’t think you’d survive my little parting gift, but what a bonus for me! So, you’re not gonna die…yet. I might even have a friend for you!” The spy put his hand on Cleon’s bald head and rubbed it vigorously.

****

Daegon ships emerged from slip space in the Lantau system. The survivors from the Battle of Albion moved without any cohesion and some fired potshots at other ships to keep their distance.

Hephaestus was at high anchor over the irradiated planet. The fleet tender and her escort of the fleet tender made no move to flee as the Daegon set a rough course toward wild space.

After a half hour, the Daegon hailed the Hephaestus.

Colonel Horton answered for the Albion ship. He was painfully thin, his hair in tufts from prolonged radiation poisoning, and one eye was clouded and blind.

“Albion ship…surrender to us and we won’t destroy you. We have need of your capabilities,” a Daegon officer said as his ship approached Lantau.

“That’s all that survived?” Horton asked. “I didn’t think there were that many cowards.”

“Feral, I will flay your skin from your body and feed it to you!” the Daegon snarled. “Weigh anchor immediately before I—”

“I spent months on Lantau trying to keep my people alive. Only six of us made it off that hell you made. As such, I have a much better idea. How about you go fuck yourself?” Horton raised a finger up for the Daegon to see, then stabbed it onto a button.

The first minefield laid by the Hephaestus came online around the approaching ship. Horton chuckled as a look of shock crossed the Daegon’s face. The mines lashed out with concentrated plasma beams and carved the enemy ship apart.

More minefields activated near the slip transfer point leading to wild space. Some Daegon ships managed to escape, but not many.

Powell put a hand on Horton’s shoulder.

“Ready to go home?” she asked. “Sorry it took us so long to come back for you.”

“Gage never forgot us. We never thought he would…shame we couldn’t get all the bastards,” Horton said.

“Don’t worry, the pirate clans won’t give them a warm welcome. Even they have standards,” the captain said. “Helm? Set course for Albion. Take us home.”

****

For the first time in days, the din of battle had fallen to nothing through New Exeter.

Wyman ran down an uneven line of Typhoons. All bore battle damage. Some looked like they’d done slightly better than a crash where they’d landed. Wyman hopped up glance at tail numbers. Pilots sat in a small group, remnants from different squadrons commiserated about the battle.

He punched a fist into the air and hurried toward a fighter with the cockpit up. There was no ladder, so Wyman grabbed the edge of the cockpit and swung a leg and himself onto the Typhoon’s nose.

Ivor snoozed quietly in her seat.

Wyman slapped the top of her control set several times. Ivor snorted and wiggled her shoulders against her acceleration cushions.

Wyman reached over and patted the back of her hand.

Ivor opened an eye, then squinted at him. She bolted awake and pin wheeled her limbs in surprised.

“Ha-a-a-ah! God damn it, Freak! Didn’t you see I was asleep?” Ivor asked.

“You’re alive!” Wyman smiled.

“I was about to drop dead from exhaustion then I managed a couple winks…hey, you’re alive too. I missed you up there. What’ve you been up too?” she stretched.

“Clay face got me shot down then I lost track of him in all the explosions and stuff…No one told me I had to take care of him after we landed so I wasn’t in any hurry to find him. And how do you find a guy that can change his face? Then I got roped into storming the castle with the Genevans. You?”

Ivor frowned at him. She raised a finger and sucked in a breath, then let her hand drop.

“Crusader won the battle,” her face fell further. “I know you’re a big goddamn hero, Freak, but the way he died…I won’t forget it. He was the best of us and now he’s set an impossible standard for everyone that comes after. King’s Own doing King’s Own things.”

“Damn. If’ I’d been up there—”

“You would’ve accomplished nothing compared to him doing the right thing at the right time. You don’t need all the glory, Freak Show,” she leaned forward and hugged him around his shoulders.

“Freak. I’ve got to ask you something…for a friend…”

Chapter 17

Thorvald dropped into a tilted chamber, his armor giving him perfect vision in the darkness. Dead Daegon were scattered about, their bodies stiff. Several days had passed since they breathed their last.

More Genevans slipped into the chamber as Thorvald scanned the dead. None were Asaria. The Baroness remained unaccounted for across the wreck of the Sphinx.

Colonel Fegeline had been insistent on clearing out the fallen command ship and Gage had given the Genevan contingent permission to explore the vessel so long as Thorvald went with them.

Thorvald spotted an armored compartment and wrenched the door open. The smell of rot assaulted him and Grynau buttoned up his armor and flushed his helmet with stale air.

Asaria lay against a canted bulkhead, her legs crushed beneath a superstructure spar that had buckled during the crash. Her breathing was shallow, her lips cracked and blistered from dehydration.

That she still lived was all Thorvald cared about. He snapped his carbine up.

“By the authority of the Albion regent, I hereby place you under arrest.” Thorvald took a careful step into the chamber.

“Traitor,” she gasped. “All of you…traitors. Your Houses are part of the pact, the eternal pact…Atlan will have no mercy on you.”

“What are you talking about?” Thorvald said.

“You stayed behind…stayed back with the ferals to watch over Earth…ready it for our return. We trusted you!” Asaria pushed herself up with her hands, her hatred giving her more strength than any dying person should’ve managed. “We are just the vanguard, brother. Did they never tell you our true strength? You swore to House Atlan—”

A single shot burst Asaria’s head into pink mist. The rest of her body wobbled for a heartbeat then flopped back.

Thorvald turned and faced a fire team of House Ticino soldiers. Colonel Fegeline held a smoking pistol to his shoulder.

“That’s why you wanted to find her,” Thorvald said. “What was she—”

His entire suit locked up as override signals buzzed in his ears. His helm peeled back and a faint glow emitted from Fegeline’s suit as he stepped closer to Thorvald.

“For the good of House Ticino, you found her dead,” Fegeline said. “For the good of all of Geneva, there is nothing to tell. Do you understand?”

Thorvald struggled against his suit.

“What was once true no longer matters,” Fegeline said. “We have new oaths now. We protect to our last dying breath. We can’t let that change, you understand?”

“To my last dying breath,” Thorvald said, nodding as best his prison would allow.

“Remain silent and Albion will have more support than she could ever ask for. Remain silent and House Ticino will release you from your contract with full honors. Remain silent or you will doom the people we protect.” Fegeline snapped his fingers, and control returned to Thorvald.

The threat of violence hung heavy for a moment, then subsided as Thorvald relaxed.

“I don’t know what she was going to say.” Fegeline motioned to the exit. “I only know that I was to stop her from saying it. This structure is unstable. We need to return to New Exeter.”

Thorvald brought his helm back around his head.

“Grynau? Are you OK?” he asked his suit AI.

+Momentary sleep. No recordings. We need to return to the principal.+

“This job will never get easier. Let’s go.”

****

Seaver scanned the refugee center. In the weeks since the liberation, all of Albion had been focused on securing the basic necessities of food, clothing and shelter. He’d spent five long, horrid days digging survivors out from the rubble of Ledshire. He wanted to find only one person, but duty and the urgent nature of helping the victims of the Daegon bombardment had to come first.

He got a number of wary glances from civilians as he held up an old photo. No one was particularly interested in helping him while the twice-daily food ration packs were distributed. That they were eating Reich meals seemed like a cruel joke to some, but no one complained about having food in their bellies.

Seaver glanced at a small screen on the back of his hand. This was the right facility, but the Daegon’s records had proven somewhat difficult to verify. Once the Daegon relocated the “less valuable” population to scrub camps like this one, it was normally to let the sick and frail of Albion’s population die off from neglect and malnutrition.

Seaver spied a cluster of wheelchair-bound refugees and shouldered his way through the throng of people to the group. An elderly woman looked up at him.

“Hello, love, spare some vittles for a veteran of the Reach Wars? I won’t touch that Reich filth,” she croaked. Seaver fished a small nutrient bar from a pocket and pressed it into her thin hand that was cool to the touch.

“Have you seen him?” Seaver held up a photo of him before the Daegon twisted him and his parents.

“Charlie?” She squinted at the picture. “That looks like Charlie. Doesn’t look like you though. What have you been eating?”

“Charlie Seaver, yes. Where is he?” Seaver felt a sprig of hope.

“With those others.” She reached out a hand shaking with palsy to a cluster of wheelchairs.

Seaver walked toward the group, every step becoming more and more difficult, like he was moving through clay. A dark-skinned man in a wheelchair looked at him with one eye, the other side of his body paralyzed.

“Huh…that your boy?” the old man wheezed.

“My boy’s gone,” came a weary response from a man in a chair facing away from Seaver. Seaver grabbed it by the handles and turned it around. The man in it protested weakly.

Charlie Seaver was rail thin, his Langfei syndrome had progressed rapidly since the last time his son laid eyes on him.

“Dad?” Seaver went to one knee so his father could look him in the eye. “Dad, it’s me, James.”

Charlie tried to raise a hand but lacked the strength. Seaver picked it up and pressed it to the side of his face.

“Oh…oh, my boy, what’s happened to you?” Charlie asked. “Your mother. She…”

“Mom’s OK,” Seaver said, wiping tears away. “She’s on the Orion. Not hurt at all.”

“They did this to you…they did this to you because of me.” Charlie’s lips quivered. “They said they took you and made you fight or they’d kill me.”

“I’m back. I’ve got you. I’ve got Mom. We’ve all got each other, Dad. We’re family again.” Seaver gently wrapped his large arms around his father’s frail shoulders. “We don’t ever have to be apart again. Ever.”

Charlie nodded and wept into his son’s chest.

****

Loussan ran pre-flight checks on the Joaquim and gripped the controls. He muttered an ancient sea shanty to himself and flipped open a console next to the pilot’s seat. Taking out a bag of green nuggets, he gave them a deep smell then sniffed again, nodding to himself.

“I need that,” Tolan said from the cockpit hatch. “I came back specifically for that. Need those seeds for…personal use.”

Loussan reached for the pistol on his hip but stopped a few inches short when Thorvald leaned into the cockpit.

“I thought I was clear to leave.” Loussan held up his hands.

“You are,” Gage said, maneuvering between Thorvald and Tolan to sit in the co-pilot’s seat. “Thought you’d want this before you left.” Gage handed Loussan a folded piece of paper with a wax seal.

“It’s not a warrant, is it?” Loussan narrowed his eyes at the paper.

“Your pardon.” Gage wagged it at the pirate. Loussan gripped the paper by the fingertips and plucked it from Gage’s hand. “For all crimes committed against Albion prior to today. That doesn’t apply to any other star nation and I suggest you avoid Cathay space for…forever, really. Same with Indus and—”

“I get it.” Loussan slipped the pardon into his jacket. “That’s not why you’re really here, is it?”

“You’re under my protection until you leave Albion territory,” Gage said. “Once you return to wild space, our relationship is at an end, unless you give me a reason to come looking for you.”

“I’m well aware of your capabilities and your tenacity. I’m thinking about going legit. If Albion is the only star nation that won’t throw me in a deep dark hole or space me for some prior misunderstanding…then I’m in a pretty advantageous position to run trade between Albion and the Free Peoples.” Loussan gave the Iago a pat. “Got a ship and everything. Thank you very much.”

“And you’re in an excellent position to trade in information as well.” Gage hooked a thumb at Tolan. “If you ever hear whispers of Daegon activity in wild space, pass it on to him. And tell the clans that Albion will never stop hunting the Daegon. No matter where they are. Some escaped Lantau. And there’s reason to believe we haven’t seen the last of those monsters.”

“If you send ships to hunt down Daegon, I suggest you ask for permission first. Not that the clans wouldn’t want you to clean out any unwanted guests, but it’s good manners,” Loussan said. “Though I’d appreciate you keeping my name out of it. I have a reputation to rebuild.”

“We’ll make that work.” Gage stood. “Can’t say I’m going to miss you, pirate.”

“Same here, jackboot, but…you’re not a bad guy.” Loussan put a hand to his chest and attempted a slight bow.

“And you have some redeeming qualities. Best of luck to you. The pardon also extends to your crew.” Gage gave Loussan a nod and left the cockpit.

“I had to remind him about Geet and the others.” Tolan reached across Loussan’s body, plucked a small case that was mag-locked under a console and stuffed it into a pocket. “I do need a small favor.”

“By Caishen,” Loussan said, rolling his eyes. “What? What the hell else do you need from me and my ship?”

“Passenger transfer to Basai. Myself and one other. He’ll behave.” Tolan smiled. “And no questions asked.”

“Basai’s a lot farther than I—”

“I’ll pay you handsomely for the transit. You’re broke, by the way. You got this ship as agreed, but you never asked for fuel or supplies.” Tolan crossed his arms.

“Motherfu…is there anything else?” Loussan tossed his hands up.

“Then passage back to Albion.”

“Goddamn it!”

“Which I’ll also pay you for. Settle down, Loussan. You should want to keep a low profile for a while, plus I’ll give you transponder codes for several other ships in this class that’ll get you through customs across civilized space,” Tolan said.

“When you put it that way…fine! Fine, let’s get the hell out of here before you or Gage change up the deal anymore.” Loussan smacked a panel. “Dieter, we ready to leave?”

“Yes, but we have no food!” the Reichsman said.

Loussan frowned at Tolan.

“Who’s altering the deal now?” Tolan smirked. “I’ll have a few pallets delivered. After I get my prisoner aboard.”

“I’m so sick of Albion. It’ll be nice to be around proper villains again,” Loussan said.

****

Ten days later, the Iago set down at a dilapidated star port on Basai, a planet deep within wild space. The cargo ramp lowered onto a dusty landing pad. Squat buildings in the distance came and went as windblown haze ebbed and flowed.

Tolan gave a hooded man with restraints on his wrists and ankles a pat on the shoulder and guided him down to the edge of the ramp. He turned him around and took Zheng’s hood off with a flourish.

The Daegon agent blinked against the harsh environment.

“Right, so, couple things.” Tolan leaned to one side then refocused on Zheng. “You’ve held up your side of the bargain so I’m doing mine. You’re being released on your own recognizance into wild space. Good luck!”

Zheng held his wrists up for Tolan to release the shackles.

“Mmm…not so fast.” Tolan held up a finger. “See, one intelligence professional to another, you are no longer of any intelligence value to Albion, particularly as I have a new source who’s far better connected to current events than you are.”

“I thought you were honorable,” Zheng said.

“Oh, I’m one hundred percent trustworthy.” Tolan’s face fluctuated and resettled as Asian. “I am indeed letting you go. Just waiting for the right time…”

“Then do so. Perhaps give me some local currency so I can keep my profile low,” Zheng said.

“That won’t be a problem for you.” Tolan reached out and pinched the tip of Zheng’s nose. “Turn around.”

Zheng froze as the sound of many sets of feet came through the wind. Tolan took him by the handcuffs and sang a little ditty, dancing as he turned Zheng around. A group of men armed with metal clubs and angry looks were a few steps from the ramp.

“Allow me to introduce you to Bolin Liu. You don’t know him, but you know his father. Field Marshal Liu, who you had executed after he proved to be just a bit too competent.” Tolan pointed at a middle-aged man with a scowl across his face. “Zheng, Liu. Liu, the treasonous snake that had your daddy’s head chopped off with manufactured evidence. Oh, but let’s not forget Liu’s friends, all of whom are either Kong officers that had to flee or their children. They have been waiting to meet you.”

“You…you can’t do this!” Zheng tried to shuffle back up the ramp but Tolan held him by the cuffs.

“This is wild space! Just about anything goes out here,” Tolan said. “Anyway, I’m letting you go and Bolin here has a little something-something for me?”

Bolin drew a pack from his overcoat and handed it to Tolan.

“Nice…can’t get these compounds back at Albion. Should keep me in the face less game for quite a while…” Tolan sniffed the zipper on the pack then stuffed it into a pocket. “Right! Toodles.”

Tolan pushed Zheng off the ramp. The welcoming party began screaming in Cathay and beating the Daegon with sticks or their bare hands.

“Take your time, boys! He’s rather resilient.” Tolan skipped up the ramp and did a flourish as the Iago powered up to leave.

****

The throne room had been ransacked, the throne riddled by bullets, the armrests vandalized by knife gouges and graffiti. Paintings of Albion’s history that once adorned the walls were knocked to the floor, frames shattered, the artwork burnt or slashed apart.

The room smelled like a sewer but Gage tried to ignore it. The skylight had been broken and weeks of rain led to dots of mold and mildew across the throne room. Gage walked around the throne and ran his hand across the top, feeling splinters and dents.

Birbal, one arm in a sling, rubbed the bottom of a shoe against a stain on the grand carpet leading from the main entrance up to the throne. Klaven, Han and Amon stood by quietly.

“It will suit you,” Birbal said, “once everything’s repaired, obviously.”

“This is Prince Aidan’s throne,” Gage said. “I am merely his regent, but I am the regent until he’s ready to take the crown. Albion…Albion needs help. Our infrastructure is in ruins. My people are traumatized. Winter is coming for half the planet. It falls to me to ask your nations for help.”

“The Emperor authorized me to negotiate a series of loans,” Han said. “Cathay has its own devastation to deal with. The Daegon were not kind to us either.”

“Whatever you need,” Klaven said. “The Reich will provide everything Albion requires and whatever you ask for…within reason, of course.”

“And what will you charge for this generosity?” Han huffed.

“Nothing. The Kaiserina will bend every resource across the Reich to help Albion. She sent me on a goodwill tour to improve relations with the League and what better offer of goodwill than to fight beside new allies?” He put a hand on Amon’s shoulder, who seemed rather uncomfortable. “And to build—literally build—an alliance with a people who are no longer the Reich’s enemies.”

“The Indus will send a disaster relief convoy once word of our victory reaches them,” Birbal said. “Not to undermine the Reich’s…generosity, but our aid will arrive sooner.”

“What of the Daegon?” Amon sidestepped away from Klaven. “Have we defeated them for good?”

“They claimed they would rule all of settled space. Asaria and House Yasuda’s forces were never enough to occupy every world,” Gage said. “There are more Daegon out there…just how long it will take for them to reach us is the question.”

“Or for us to find them,” Klaven said. “Why surrender time and initiative for them to strike again?”

“One war at a time, Klaven,” Gage said. “But you’re not wrong. We’ll have to answer that question soon enough. Would you all excuse me? Not you, Klaven.”

The other officers left. Klaven rocked back and forth on his heels, then stepped one step toward the throne.

“Not so fast.” Gage stopped him from coming any closer. “You have my condolences for the loss of the Bismarck and every sailor aboard him. I would not be here were it not for von Trapp and his sacrifice.”

“Yes…” Klaven’s face broke with emotion. He turned away and put a hand over his mouth. “We can…we can build another dreadnought. But we…”

“But we can’t replace the people.” Gage sat on the stairs in front of the throne. “We are less without them.”

Klaven sat next to him. “I have to go to Kaiserina Washington and tell her what happened. Then I’ll have to lay out every single decision I made that led to that end and how the Reich’s place in the galaxy has become very different since I left with the Castle Itter.” Klaven stretched his legs out. “You think she’ll be happy with me?”

“Maybe.” Gage nodded slowly. “Maybe not? You’ll have a place here if you need it. Don’t run off to wild space if you think she won’t welcome you back. It’s rough out there.”

“Everything felt so right while I was…doing what I thought was the right thing to do. Then I saw von Trapp die. So many good Reichsmen gone. Now I’m rethinking every decision. What if—”

“You can ‘what if’ yourself into complete inaction and a lifetime of regret. What’s happened has happened and you can only make better decisions in the future. And you’ve fought for a future where we’re not slaves…and we’re alive. If the rest of the Reich is like you and von Trapp, then Albion’s made good allies,” Gage sighed.

“You could have that.” Klaven tilted his head at the throne. “No one will complain. Everyone will probably appreciate working with a known quantity. Sometimes the next ruler can be an excuse to upset the status quo.”

“It’s Prince Aidan’s, not mine. Not now, not ever. He is his father’s son,” Gage said, turning away and looking into the distance, “and he’ll grow into a fine king. I’ll do my best to help him along the way.”

“I’ll let the Kaiserina know what kind of man she’ll be dealing with. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way home. Sooner that happens, the sooner I can return with food, building materials, whatever else you want. The Reich’s first humanitarian mission. I’m sure it’ll be easy and fun.”

Klaven stood and offered a hand to Gage, helping the regent to his feet. Gage shook his hand.

Chapter 18

Six months later

A young man sat in a featureless room. He had his hands on the table and let out a slow breath. There was a knock at the door and an Albion immigration officer came in. He was heavyset and had an armful of data slates.

“I am so sorry,” the customs officer said. “We’re trying to process so many new arrivals. So many for business, for reconstruction work, busy busy busy. Kyle Ullanon, is it?” He tapped a data slate against the edge of the table then held it close to his face.

“Was there a problem with my passport or visa? I thought I had everything in order before I left Lantau,” Kyle said.

“Well, most everything is in order.” The data slate lowered and the customs officer revealed a new face. Kyle tensed, but didn’t panic. “Not bad,” Tolan said. “I expected about as much from a Genevan.”

“Genevan? What? I’m no—”

“Don’t shit a shitter, kiddo.” Tolan opened a small case and pressed the tip of a beige-wrapped cigarette against a tiny square. It lit up and a skunky odor filled the room. “Your bio augmentations are rather obvious under a scan.”

“Nonsense, I haven’t been scanned at all.” Kyle looked around.

“See, I’m the head of the Albion Intelligence Ministry. After recent events with the Daegon, our security has become a fair bit tighter. I had you pegged as soon as you came down the gangplank from your transport. Also, your team chief Thorvald and I are good friends, even if he won’t admit it.” Tolan took a drag.

“You’re head of security?” Kyle glared at the item in Tolan’s hand.

“Helps to be in charge, you get to make all the rules.” Tolan waggled the joint. “Now, young Mr. Ullanon, let me lay out how security works in the Kingdom of Albion…”

[Gage and Aidan at the whales]

Gage and Prince Aidan stood at the end of a freshly built pier that ran into New Exeter Bay. Tall cranes were scattered through the city. Some buildings gleamed with new windows and fresh construction, while many more still bore the scars of battle and Daegon occupation.

Crowds had gathered on distant shores.

“Are they really coming?” Aidan asked, looking up at Gage.

“Prism whales are on the way.” Gage glanced at Thorvald, who was a few steps behind them. The Genevan nodded.

“Last time the whales made everyone sad,” Aidan said. “I remember that. I remember my dad and mom and…”

Gage put a hand on the boy’s shoulders. “I miss them too. The war is over and the prism whales have come back. It’s our duty to welcome them on behalf of Albion. It means a lot to our people. It signals that things are getting back to normal. That the Daegon hurt us, but they did not destroy who we are.”

“What do I do?” Aidan looked up at him. “It’s bad luck if they don’t spray us, right? Last time they didn’t do much.”

“We just have to wait for a little bit longer, my Prince. There! See that one?” Gage pointed to a hump as it rose from the water. A bioluminescent algae coating on the whale glimmered in the sunlight.

“I see it!” Aidan clapped his hands before gripping the pier’s railing and lifting himself up onto straight arms. “Are they coming over?”

“I hope so,” Gage laughed. A swell of water rose up and a prism whale’s eye came out of the water. The animal looked at them both, then rolled over. Air was sucked into the blowhole and a plume of water many times higher than Gage shot into the air. Rain dappled around Aidan, who squealed with laughter.

Gage’s heart caught in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw the boy so happy.

Typhoons flew overhead and fireworks burst across the sky.

Around the shore, Albion cheered.

THE END

From the Author

Hello Dear and Gentle Reader,

My thanks for all of you tenacious and patient enough to stay with the Exiled Fleet through the rather lengthy pauses between releases. The story of Commodore Gage and the Exiled Fleet has come to its end. Well…this part of the story is at the end. The Daegon are still out there and the League is well aware of the threat.

Will the Exiled Fleet universe continue? It’s definitely a possibility. I’m interested in writing it, but I have a number of books that are nigh and several other projects that stand between me and the next war with the Daegon.

Tolan and the Genevans are just too much fun not to revisit.

I’m grateful that so many readers enjoyed Albion Lost and the rest of the series. It was the first thing I’d written that wasn’t Ember War related in a long time and there was some trepidation that my non-Ember War titles wouldn’t fine a receptive audience, but thanks to readers like you, that wasn’t the case!

My sincerest thanks to you. Many more exciting stories are on the way!

The journey continues…

--Richard Fox

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Also By Richard Fox:

The Ember War Saga

1. The Ember War

2. The Ruins of Anthalas

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4. Earth Defiant

5. The Gardens of Nibiru

6. The Battle of the Void

7. The Siege of Earth

8. The Crucible

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2. The Ibarra Sanction

3. The True Measure

4. A House Divided

5. The Last Aeon

6. Ferrum Corde

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2. Rage of Winter

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4. The Beast of Eridu

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2. Steel Sworn
3. Soul Invictus
4. Valdar’s Legacy
5. Legends Rise

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1. Terra Nova

2. Bloodlines

3. Wings of Redemption

4. Hale’s War

Ember War: Pathfinders

1. Light the Way

2. Belisarius

The Exiled Fleet Series

1. Albion Lost

2. The Long March

3. Finest Hour

4. Point of Honor

5. The Last Ditch

6. Liberty or Death

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