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21.

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The staff waited for word in the library most of the night.  It was long, and lonely.  Dane ordered refreshments brought in during the third watch, but there was sparse interest from the gathered officers.  Nonetheless Dane ordered the Quantar senior staff, Dane, Axel, Colonel Gwyneth, Layton, Brake, the mercenary, who came at Dane’s request, and the regiment commanders, seventeen in all, to formally sit together.  They ate in silence.

Hour after hour the expected word didn’t come.  The base, for all they knew, was a flaming cinder by now.  Communications could have been cut off by jamming probes moving in advance of the Starliner.  Layton’s report indicated that the Vixis had been observed leaving Quantar orbit in such a leisurely maneuver that it was clear they found no need to hurry or concern themselves about their target.  It was as if they intended the inhabitants of Zaed Vadela Three to suffer in fear as much as possible.  The fact that communication hadn’t yet been received from the base didn’t indicate an outcome one way or another, but no one in the staff doubted that the base would stand little chance against Governor Bennis’ machine.

Dane took to pacing in the last hour before dawn.  Axel sat in a side chair and watched him in silence, the charts describing the base’s defenses discarded on the table in front of her.  Zaed Vadela Three had been her passageway out of the Quantar system and into free space.  It would have made an excellent rebel base except that it was practically indefensible, essentially a near-motionless rock in space, in an area of the Quantar system similar to Sol’s Oort Cloud  It was thought that such an obvious target, combined with its great natural resources and the hard currency they provided, would keep it off the Governor’s hit list.  Apparently that was now an empty hope.

She remembered her days there, trying to act like a rough and tumble tholium miner, learning to run a boring drill.  The months there were good ones, full of intrigue and rogue attacks on Quantar supply ships.  The arrival of the Vixis in the Quantar system quieted things for a while.  After going to Earth and waiting for almost two years the chance to strike back at the hated Cochrane’s had come.  And now the one most hated was their greatest hope.

As she watched him pace she noted the tightness in his shoulders, visible even through the duty uniform he now wore.  Both of them had changed out of the previous evening’s finery, Axel feeling rather like a fool for the way they carried on, oblivious to the horrific reality they were ensconced in.  She was perturbed by the fact that none of the Earthmen, not Sanctuary troops nor any of the priests, had shown the slightest interested in the situation.  Inquiries to Rijkard’s quarters were met with the reply that he had been informed, and was sleeping.

Axel wondered if she would ever hear the words Dane had started to say in the garden. His manner was now of the utmost professional soldier, his only concern seeming to be the military situation.  In their brief conversations since he had been distant and cold, almost emotionless. Clearly his internal struggle with their relationship, the appropriateness of it, had returned.  She decided that saving their world was more important right now.

A brief wave of nausea overcame her suddenly.  She closed her eyes and tried to ride it out, chalking it up to the lack of sleep.  When it didn’t abate she excused herself and went to the lavatory, lingering a moment over the toilet before vomiting.  She freshened, gathered herself and then returned to the staff room to find all the other officers cloistered around the lone video screen.  Raw footage, apparently from an observation satellite, was playing.  She moved next to Layton and then nudged him gently, whispering:

“What is it?”

“Download from a mining tracker probe.  Someone, we think a passing smuggler, sent it through direct feed to Earth.”

The screen painted a dark and grainy gray visage, apparently a replay of a jammed distress signal from one of the colony authorities, undoubtedly blocked from leaving the system but picked up by the tracking satellite, then downloaded by the smugglers.  The tension in the voice was clear - fear and desperation.  Axel concentrated on the words the man spoke.

“...unclear as to their intent.  If you can hear us, Earth, or anyone within range, we ask for assistance.  I repeat, Starliner Vixis closing to firing range on our position.  We need assistance. Please reply...” the next few words were garbled by static.  When the voice returned, panic was present.

“We are under attack!  Can you render assis-”  The screen cleared abruptly, the voice stopped, replaced by blackness.  After a few seconds a grainy grayscale image appeared.  Zed Vadela Three could be made out as a dark rock with tiny lights, dwellings and mining colonies, scattering its surface.  A chronometric display flickered in the lower left corner.

“Observation satellite at the jump point,” said a gruff voice - Brake, the mercenary.  Axel had first met him at the base.  She wondered if he had friends or family there.

The image flashed bright white three times, then bombardment impacts began to mottle the surface of the asteroid.  The Vixis was out of range of the stationary satellite’s viewer, slowly lobbing nuclear-thermal shells at the asteroid’s surface.  The Starliner had the capacity to deliver fusion bombs in rapid fire order to any target.  It was clear whoever was masterminding this attack intended it to go on as long as possible.  The warheads being used were of low yield and designed to maximize an opponent’s opportunity for surrender, when used against a planet.  But used against the asteroid, the only intent of this attack could be to maximize the horror to the population and the twisted pleasure of its attackers.

“Turn it off,” ordered Dane, in a quiet but firm voice.  He turned to face the staff. “Everyone to get three hours sleep, or at least rest.  We will reconvene at the manor house at 1000 hours.”  Then he left the room abruptly, Layton trailing, Axel staring blankly after him.

***

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WHEN SHE ARRIVED AT the manor house library ten minutes early, Dane was already there working, standing with Layton at the main table, reviewing charts and giving orders.  The sun had made a welcome appearance and the room was filled with the dappled morning light of late Fall.  From his refreshed appearance it was clear he had managed some sleep, which was encouraging to Axel. Always better to face an enemy prepared, she thought.

“And see what’s taking Rijkard!”  Dane ordered to Layton as the lieutenant sprinted for the comm room.

“You seem to be a bit rested,” said Axel as she walked up to him.  He glanced up and managed a brief smile.

“A trick I learned at the Director’s Academy.  Sleep when you can, it may be the last time. You’re early,” he said to her, then looked back down at his troop reports.

“I didn’t know you were so literal,” she teased.  Axel felt a brief wave of nausea again, her smile fading.

Dane sensed her discomfort and looked up from his papers again.  “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she lied, voice only slightly out of character with weakness.  “It’s just the lack of sleep, and probably too much champagne last night.”

Dane considered her carefully, debating for a moment before accepting her explanation.  “I hope that’s all it is.  We can’t have our best officers getting sick on us during the main battle,” he said.

“Of course.  Dane, about last night.  I wanted you-”

“Axel,” said Dane, interrupting her in a quiet but sharp voice.  He paused before continuing, looking about the room for eavesdroppers.  “I’m sorry,” he finally said.  “We haven’t time to discuss our personal feelings.”

“But we already are,” she said, hands on hips.

“No, we aren’t.  The staff-” Dane stopped in mid-sentence as the Quantar senior officers came rushing through the library doors, “is here. I’m sorry, Axel, there’s no time.”  He moved from the table to greet each man by name and rank and shake their hand in a show of unity.

“There never is,” Axel whispered to herself, bowing her head for a moment, then collected herself and joined the gathering staff.

After a few moments of formality Dane moved the staff to the table, where he began passing out troop and battle preparedness reports. As he did, each of the commanders took a position around the table, younger officers deferring to older by allowing them the places nearest their Director. The mercenary Brake was directly opposite Dane, furthest away from him.  Dane motioned Axel to take a place at his left.  The spot on his right, Chief of Staff, was open, and no one dared to presume upon it, though if truth be known not a man, or woman, among them did not aspire to it.  Dane addressed the officers.

“As you may have noted, the position of Chief of Staff has not been filled.  It is impossible for any army to function without the best possible man,” he paused now and turned slightly to Axel, “or woman, in the job.  I have carefully considered each of you, and found many to be worthy of the position.  But in the end, one stood out from the crowd.  I hope you will all agree with my choice.  Mister Layton,” he raised his voice, “Has our guest arrived?”

Layton came into the room through the double doors at the opposite the planning table.  “Yes, Sire, he has.”

“Show him in.”

All heads turned to follow Layton as he went to a side anteroom door and opened it. Presently, a man dressed in a Quantar military uniform emerged from the room, placed his cap on his head, and followed Layton into the library.  The room was dead silent.  Officers moved aside to make room in a spot next to the mercenary.  A spot for General Devin Tannace.

“You wanted to see me, Sire,” he said, then glanced at Brake, the man who had so unceremoniously dropped him in the war game.

“Yes,” said Dane, staring right at Tannace, who met his gaze evenly.  “Do you know why we’re here, General?”

“Yes, Sire,” he said stiffly.  “Your man Layton filled me in on the way over from the Cathedral.”

“Then it should be obvious as to why I requested your presence.”

Tannace shook his head.  “I’m sorry, Sire, I don’t understand.”

Dane took in a deep breath.

“General, we are in the stages of preparing a battle plan to fight the Starliner.  But we have a problem.  Our best and most experienced officer is not among us,” Gwyneth bristled slightly at this, “And we need him and the two thousand loyal men he commands, if we are to succeed.”

“I will help in any way I can, Sire.”

“Good,” Dane motioned to the spot nearest him on the right.  “Join us as my Chief of Staff, then.”

Tannace stood motionless for a moment, brow furrowed, disbelieving.  “Chief of Staff?” he exclaimed.  Axel suppressed a smile.

“Is there a problem General?” said Dane in mock admonition.  “Your commission is still valid.  In examining your service record I’ve found no lack of patriotism toward the flag of Quantar.  No record of insubordination that would justify your defiance of my request.”

“Insubordination?  Defiance?  My God man, yesterday I tried to kill you!” said Tannace.

“That was yesterday,” said Dane.  “Today Quantar needs you, we all need you.  I need you. So what is your answer, General?”

Tannace looked to Axel.  “Is this your doing?” he said to her.

“No,” she said, smiling and shaking her head.  “This is all his doing.”

“Well, General?” said Dane, feigning impatience.

“I don’t know if I trust you,” he said flatly.

“Very well then,” said Dane, then removed his sidearm, holster and all, and threw it across the table to Tannace.

“What’s this for?” said Tannace, looking down suspiciously at the weapon.

“For you to wear in my presence at all times.”

“Why?”

“You do not trust me, correct?  Therefore I order you, on the condition of your accepting the position of my Chief of Staff, to shoot me immediately upon my committing any act of treason against Quantar.  Furthermore, I order all of you,” he said, finger sweeping the room, “Not to stop him.  Is that enough for you General?”

Tannace looked down again at the weapon, then up to Dane in astonishment.  “I suppose,” he paused, then continued cautiously, “That it is, Sire.”

“Then for God’s sake, man, pick up the weapon!” said Axel exuberantly

Tannace hesitated for the slightest of moments, then reached down and picked up the gun. Every officer in the room began to applaud.  Dane motioned for Tannace to come around to the spot at his right hand.  Tannace belted the weapon on his waist as he came, the applause rising a bit with each step.  When he reached Dane’s side Axel came between them and kissed Devin on the cheek.

“Welcome back,” she said into his ear, then took her place at Dane’s left.

The applause died down.  Dane extended his right hand, and Tannace took it, the surprise still clear on his face.  He shook his head in disbelief.

“What manner of man are you?” he asked.

“I am your Director, Devin, and I hope, one day, your friend,” said Dane.

Devin nodded, the extension of friendship being all too much for one day.  “I hope so, too, Sire,” he said.  Dane looked up and addressed the staff formally.

“I hereby nominate General Devin Tannace to be my Chief of Staff, to serve his world with honor.  Do I have a second?” said Dane.

“I second!” said Axel.

“Any objections?”  The room stayed silent.  “So let it be noted, Mr. Layton.  Now, shall we get down to business?”  Axel raised her fist in the air. 

“Huzzah!” she said, leading the cheer.  All the staff joined in.  “Huzzah!  Huzzah!”  The applause came again, then Dane waved them to silence and turned his attention back to the charts on the table.

***

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“WE HAVE APPROXIMATELY 20,000 men, mostly ground troops, in ten battalions of around 2,000 each.  Our list of space-worthy equipment is bleak, to say the least.  And we have nothing of even remotely frigate class to use against the Starliner.  However, we do possess one asteroid mining drill, in station-keeping above our position.  The only alternative I can see is to use the drill to attack the ‘liner.  Our transports and fighters could supply cover.  They’re almost too small to be good targets for the ‘liner’s thermal cannon.”

“Like a flea trying to kill an elephant,” said Colonel Gwyneth.

Dane nodded agreement.  “I understand.  The chances of success are slim.  Our greatest hope would seem to lie in trying to act not like fleas, as the Colonel said, but more like summer wasps.  Sting them.  Make them hurt.  If we sting them enough, they might make a mistake.  That could give us the opening we need to deliver an assault team using the drill.”

“And then do what?” it was Brake, blunt, and without the formality of an officer of the guard.  All eyes turned to him, and then back to Dane.

“Since you asked.  Deliver and detonate a one gigaton fusion warhead, inside the ‘liners hull.”

The room was silent.  After a moment, Dane continued.

“It is my intent to lead the mission, with a crew of all volunteers.”

“It’s a suicide mission,” protested Axel.

“My lord, we cannot allow you to do this,” said Gweneth.

“As my first act as your Chief of Staff, let me file the strongest possible protest.  An army cannot fight without its leader,” said Devin.

“Precisely.  And you are the leader of the army, Devin,” said Dane, locking eyes with him. “I am expendable.”

“No you aren’t!” said Axel, raising her voice.  “You are the only one who can govern us after we retake Quantar.  And I will not allow you to die on this mission.  There are many others who could lead it!”

“Yes, but none of their deaths would have as much meaning to our people as mine will.  It will give them a reason to go on after the oppression, and if someone is to die leading this mission, it must mean something.”

“If anyone is to lead the mission it should be me, Sire,” said Devin.  Once this battle is over I’ll be of little enough use in governing.”

“Stop it, both of you!” said Axel.  “You’re both so anxious to die!  Dane because of his guilt over not being there to stop the oppression, and Devin over the death of his wife.  Well Aria was my sister, Devin, and Quantar is my world.  All of us have lost loved ones in this battle, and we will lose more before it’s over.  We need you both alive, to lead us.  Not rushing headlong to see who can be the greatest martyr!”

“Then who will lead the mission?” said Devin.  “No one else is qualified.”

“I am,” the words came from the far end of the table, from the mercenary.  “I flew the mining drills for three years.  All the friends I had were on that station.  Now it’s gone.  And I want a chance to get back at them.”

“Brake, you don’t have to,” said Dane, “and besides, I need you here.”

“No, Sire, you don’t.  I’m not one of you.  I’ll never be an officer, with a fine lady at my side.  I want this, I want a chance at revenge.  To do something meaningful with my death.”  Dane saw the intensity in his face, burned raw red with emotion.  He looked to Axel first and then to Devin, who nodded his silent assent.

“It seems you make a compelling case, Mr. Brake.  One that I find I cannot argue with, though I’m reticent to let a man like you die in battle for my mistakes.”

“No one is going to die.”  The words were spoken firmly and with confidence by a man who had entered the room unnoticed during the debate.  All eyes turned to see Dr. Christian Rijkard, Master of the Sanctuary, dressed not in the robes of a priest, but in a white and gold military uniform.

“Rijkard?  We’ve been trying to contact you,” said Dane, surprised as anyone by his arrival.

“And so I am here.  And do not worry about our defenses.  The Shield will protect us from any attackers.  Now all of you must go.  I talk with Sire Cochrane alone.”  The words were spoken as a command.  All eyes went to Dane, who nodded silently.  Reluctantly, the officers shuffled out of the room, Devin and Axel exchanging glances with Dane, who remained stoic. Layton was the last out and shut the doors to the library behind him as he left.

Rijkard paced the room, Dane watching him in respectful silence, battle plans strewn on the table in front of him.  Plans he sensed were going to be made irrelevant by the Sanctuary leader’s next words.  Finally Rijkard stopped and looked at Dane, who waited expectantly, from across the table.

“Have you understood nothing I’ve told you up to now?  Don’t you understand the power we possess?” he said.

Dane stayed silent, confused.  Rijkard stood across the table from him, a silent challenger.  After a long moment Dane spoke.

“I’m not a fool, Rijkard.  I see that you have some gift, some connection to a power I don’t understand.”

“After all God has delivered you from?” said Rijkard. “Still you don’t see?”

“I...” Dane stammered, taken aback by the force of him, but acknowledging to himself the warrior’s might he had never seen before.  “I know only the ways I have been taught, my battle training-”

“Is worthless now.  All you plans are fruitless against this enemy.  They are far more, and far mightier than they seem.”

Dane slammed his pointer to the table.  “But we must do something!” he demanded.

“No.  You are precisely wrong.  You must do nothing that you have planned today.”

“But we will all die.”

“No.  Not a single one of your men will die in this battle.”

“Then what?” insisted Dane, throwing his arms out in frustration.

“You must trust me now, and learn.  You must learn faith.”

“Faith in what?”

“I told you I would show you a secret today, a great treasure.  A treasure that has been awaiting you for a thousand years.  But first you must pass the test, to see if you are the one.”

“The one?  Now you’re just confusing me.”

“Then I will clear your confusion.  The shuttle awaits us.”

Dane was surprised again.  “Shuttle?  To where?”

“Up there,” Rijkard pointed upward.  “To the place you call Luna.”

“Earth’s moon?”

Rijkard nodded.  “Yes.  Now come quickly.  Destiny does not tarry long.”