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“This is just not the way things are done,” commented Commodore Mordven.
Aria was getting tired of this very circular argument.
“The way things have been done is over,” remarked Admiral Rustic. “The emperor has put me in command and has full confidence in my decisions.”
“But you do not have the title of Ealantic Ocean Commander,” stated Commodore Bridgen. “This is troublesome, sir. The emperor simply must be consulted before you make such a dramatic change of tactics.”
Aria found herself unsurprised by this. Of the seven fleets of the Ealantic Command, four of the commodores had been deeply loyal to Admiral Tirkan. His absence had not been taken well by any of them.
“No one has,” replied Admiral Rustic, for the third time. “For now, the emperor has me overseeing our operations - as Admiral of the Fleet. It’s a very slight distinction, gentlemen.”
“But that makes quite a bit of difference, Mal,” said Commodore Gralph. Gralph had made his displeasure at being passed over by Rustic very well known. He was the longest serving commodore in the fleet - a post he held for political reasons alone, which everyone knew. His lack of respect for anyone else made Aria’s skin crawl.
“How so, Emmen?”
“It means even you must respect the chain of command,” he replied definitively. “Admiral or no, you haven’t the title with which to wield such bold authority, and you know it.”
“Commodore Gralph, do you always speak with such a mutinous tone?” queried Aria. She’d held her tongue long enough.
“Watch your mouth, young lady!” snapped Gralph. “I still don’t know why you are here. You are not commander of any of the Seven Fleets of the Ealantic.”
“But she is a Commodore, Emmen,” broke in Rustic. “She has a fleet under her command.”
“But she is not equal to one of us,” stated Gralph, gesturing at the others around the table.
Aria just shook her head. Admiral Rustic had sent out fast ships to locate the fleet commanders, and he had ordered them to come to the Valiant. He had a new plan to foil the Cromah, based on intelligence Aria and her fleet had uncovered.
<->
The survivors from the Magistrate had been distributed among the rest of the Knight Fleet. The remains of the wrecked schooner had been salvaged and used to make repairs to the Broadsword and the Talon. Neither ship was currently at its peak, but both were still able to fly and fight.
Aria had found survivors from that fight. One happened to be a Cromah Commodore. He had been in command of the barq they had sunk, and he had been injured when they located him.
Aria had him set up in Captain Orvin’s quarters. Cral understood what she wanted, so he allowed it. She had gone with him after a day or so, to see to their prisoner.
The Cromah Commodore was in a tunic and breeches, but his uniform coat had been practically shredded, so he was no longer uniformed. His right arm was in a sling, his shoulder having been dislocated as the barq went down.
Aria and Orvin had entered the quarters where he’d been put up, and he was reading one of Orvin’s books.
“Are you feeling better, Commodore?” queried Captain Orvin.
“I am, thank you,” remarked the captured commodore. “And when will you be returning me to my fleet?”
“Just as soon as you tell us a few things we want to know,” replied Aria.
He squinted at her. Clearly, he did not approve of her status. “And just which of the seven Imperial fleets do you command, Commodore?”
“None, Commodore,” she replied. “My fleet is separate from the primary command structure.”
He grunted. “That would explain your actions, then.”
“So, tell me, Commodore, which Cromah fleet do you command?”
“I demand, according to the Maritime Code of Honor, to be returned to my government, unmolested,” he tried.
Aria smiled sweetly. “Of course you do. Captain?”
Orvin roughly grabbed the commodore by his shoulders, pressing him into the chair. He winced as his dislocated shoulder was still obviously tender. Without much care, Orvin lashed the foreign officer to the chair.
“But you are in no position to make demands, Commodore,” stated Aria, standing over him. “So now, let’s begin, shall we?”
“You wouldn’t dare!” exclaimed the commodore.
“We are at war, Commodore,” replied Aria. “And you are my prisoner. I could have let you drown out there, but we brought you aboard. Now you can talk...or you can swim.”
“This goes against every code of...”
“Spare me your indignation, Commodore,” interrupted Aria. “Now, I know your name is Rand Brillvo - we got that from a couple of your sailors that we saved. If Imperial intelligence is correct, that means you are commander of the First Cromah Armada.”
Brillvo simply glared. He struggled against his bonds ever-so-slightly, all the while never taking his eyes off Aria.
“I take your silence as agreement, then,” said Aria.
“You are wasting your time, little girl,” snarled the commodore.
Aria smiled, then punched Brillvo squarely in the jaw.
“I will not be so disrespected, sir,” said Aria calmly. “Now then. Where is the rest of your armada?”
Brillvo remained silent, moving his jaw.
Aria sighed. “Commodore, this is only going to get worse for you. If you want us to be at all merciful, you’ll give me the information I want.”
“I am not afraid of you, Commodore,” spat Brillvo.
Aria smiled again. She put her hand on the top of Brillvo’s left. “I can be very persuasive, Commodore. If you please me.”
She rubbed the top of his hand gently, seductively, looking into his eyes deeply. “I can make this a worthwhile thing. I can offer you quite a bit, sir.”
“I am loyal to the republic,” remarked Brillvo, unwavering.
Aria nodded her head. “I don’t doubt that.” She shifted, took the middle finger of Brillvo’s left hand, and pulled it back until it snapped.
“Aaaaaaargh! You bitch!” cried out the commodore.
“You have nine more fingers, Commodore,” replied Aria sweetly. “You may want to start talking before I break them all.”
Without another word, Aria took the next finger over, and broke it as well. Brillvo cried out in agony.
“Eight unbroken fingers.”
Aria stepped away a moment and allowed the commodore to suffer alone.
Captain Orvin took up a decanter and poured wine into a goblet. Without a word, he offered Commodore Brillvo a drink. The man took it, though he did not speak, and tears welled up in his eyes.
“Now then, Commodore,” began Aria again. “The rest of your armada?”
“South. Looking for you. Awaiting my return.”
“What was that monster that stayed back?”
“Carrier. Dispatches those fighters.”
“That’s what you call them,” said Aria. “How many are there.”
“That was the first. The others are incomplete.”
“Where are they being built?”
“Shipyards. Just up the Induvar River.”
“How many?”
“One for each armada.”
“Does the Induvar reach Sanctuaron?”
“Yes, but it is too narrow to navigate.”
Aria knew that the flight of warships above the water was dependent on wave energy. Thus, larger bodies of water with almost constant waves of some kind were the only platforms from whence they could fly.
Rivers, at their narrowest points, could not be flown. And sailing them presented a whole other set of navigational issues.
“How much damage have we inflicted on your fleet?”
“I don’t know,” stated the commodore. “My armada is half the strength it once was, but you have engaged them more than any other.”
“How many of those ‘fighters’, as you called them, are there?”
“I don’t know. Each carrier can handle about sixteen of them.”
“Where do they come from?”
“Modified river patrol boats.”
That explained the small size, swift speed, and small crews of the vessels. Now Aria knew what the Cromah were up to.
“If I show you a map of the shore, will you show me the location of the shipyard?”
“Yes.”
And so they did. Aria soon called in a medic who saw to the commodore.
They had kept him another couple of days as they sailed towards the mouth of the river. Aria had taken only the Talon, leaving the rest of the Knight Fleet under the command of the captain of the Tiger’s Claw. Besides, the Broadsword would still need a few more days of work before it could fly again.
They went to the mouth of the river, and Aria was able to confirm that the shipyard was indeed where the commodore had said it was.
Commodore Brillvo had been allowed up on the deck to see his nearby shore. He looked with obvious longing at the land as they sailed south, now.
“Did not believe we would let you see your homeland again, Commodore?” questioned Aria.
He sighed. “No. Next thing you know, you will show real mercy, abide by maritime code, and run up a parley flag and return me to my Navy.”
“I cannot do that, now, sir,” remarked Aria. “But I can show you mercy.”
She reached to her hip and withdrew her dagger. With a swift stroke, she cut the commodore’s throat.
As the man reached for his throat, blood pouring from between his fingers, Orvin grabbed him by his tunic and pants and threw him over the rail into the sea.
“Helm, turn starboard fifteen degrees, heading one-nine-nine. Accelerate to full,” ordered Aria.
And thus, they had returned to the Knight Fleet. It was time, per Admiral Rustic’s orders, to meet him at the Valiant again.
Admiral Rustic had hoped Aria would have something to offer – and he was not disappointed when she did.
<->
Aria looked about the table now. She was to Rustic’s right. Beside her were Commodore Urzov of the First Fleet, then Commodore Pengrall of the Fifth Fleet, both of whom were known to be adaptable and had not spoken. Next came Commodore Mordven, then Commodore Jennik of the Sixth Fleet, the Commodore Bridgen of the Second Fleet, and finally, Commodore Gralph, directly left of Admiral Rustic.
The table was in the center of the officer’s galley, commandeered currently for this meeting.
“Commodore Gralph, Commodore Knight is equal to each of you, and her fleet has done more for the empire than any of yours have,” stated Admiral Rustic definitively. “She is correct, also, that your tone is not very respectful. Commodore.”
Gralph glared a moment before his eyes dropped to the tabletop. “Apologies, Admiral. Commodore Knight.”
“Now then. These arguments are pointless. We have an opportunity here, and I want to take it. Commodore Knight has found the location of a prominent shipyard of the Cromah Republic - and a major part of their operations. These new craft of theirs are troubling, and I want to stop them before we face more.”
“Commodore Knight seemed to handle them well enough,” piped up Mordven with obvious disdain.
“We had a lot more trouble with them than we thought,” admitted Aria. “They distracted us and managed to cause damage and casualties on all of my ships. Given time, I suspect they will learn to use these little ‘fighters’ more efficiently, and then they will become real trouble for us all.”
“So, you would propose a dangerous, preemptive strike?” questioned Gralph contemptuously.
“Do you like using a warship for casual sailing, Commodore?” questioned Aria sweetly. “Because you clearly don’t like using it for battle.”
“Now just you watch your mouth, woman!” began Gralph with obvious bile.
“That’s enough!” barked Admiral Rustic. “And for the record, note that Commodore Knight has done more to upset the Cromah Navy in the past nine months or so than most of you in your entire career.”
“Recklessly,” spat Commodore Mordven.
“And you propose more recklessness for us, Admiral,” stated Commodore Gralph with finality. “I believe that Admiral Tirkan’s actions were more in line with the wishes of the emperor than yours could be, Mal. You are at sea and not aware of his mind. He must be consulted before we take any actions.”
“Is that so?” questioned Admiral Rustic. He glanced at Aria, and she knew precisely where his mindset was. “Well then, let’s put it to a vote, shall we. Those of you in favor of acting upon my orders without question, put your fist upon the table.”
Aria moved without hesitation. Urzov and Pengrall followed suit, and much to the surprise of Aria, so did Jennik.
“Liam!” exclaimed Commodore Gralph.
Jennik looked to Commodore Gralph. “Admiral Rustic is our superior, now, Emmen. I follow his orders.”
“As I still command the third fleet, that puts us at five to three,” stated Admiral Rustic.
“Commodore Knight does not get a vote!” exclaimed Gralph.
“She does not command one of the seven fleets,” added Commodore Bridgen. “I agree with Commodore Gralph that this body is split.”
Admiral Rustic arose. “You are out of line, Commodores.” His voice was cold, commanding, and spoke of cold fury. “This is not a democracy. I am in command here. You will respect my authority, or you will be removed.”
“You do not have that kind of power, Rustic,” snarled Gralph.
“He is our superior,” Aria reminded him. “And thus, he has precisely that kind of power, Commodore.”
“You have no right to address this body, Ms. Knight!” snapped Mordven.
“She is a commodore, same as each of us, Jonniv,” stated Pengrall, speaking for the first time.
“Admiral Rustic has been placed in command of all of our fleets, and he commands that respect,” chimed in Urzov.
“Admiral Margrave and the emperor should be consulted, seeing as Rustic is not commander of the Ealantic Ocean Command and thus not a replacement for Admiral Tirkan. This move is against all of our previous doctrine,” said Gralph definitively.
Rustic did not sit, but his fists were clenched. His tone was low and very dark. “Will it be a mutiny, then?”
Commodore Mordven chuckled. “This is no mutiny, Admiral. We merely demand to speak to your superiors before we act so boldly - and so far against our previous operational parameters.”
“Commodore Knight?” questioned Admiral Rustic.
“Sir?” she replied.
“Would you assist me in dealing with these mutinous officers?”
Rustic had known it would come to this. Aria had come prepared.
The admiral turned to Commodore Gralph, grabbed him by the head, turning and snapping his neck,
Aria then arose and tossed a knife into the chest of Commodore Bridgen.
With angry shouts, Mordven tried to stand, but Admiral Rustic was on top of him. A knife flashed, and soon the commodore was silent.
Aria looked to the others. They looked surprised, yet they made no moves.
Admiral Rustic resumed his seat, ignoring the dead and dying commodores. “That will be quite enough dissent. I have been given the rank of admiral and command of the overall fleet. I will not be questioned.”
He looked to Urzov. “Commodore?”
“Sir?”
“You will assume command of the Second Fleet. Merge them with your operations.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Commodore Pengrall?”
“Aye, sir?”
“You will merge the Fourth Fleet with your own.”
“Yes, Admiral.”
“Commodore Jennik?”
“Sir?”
“Your fleet will be heading back towards our own shores. Your mission is to prevent any Cromah that get through our operations. You will be the last line of defense of the empire, Commodore.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Commodore Knight, you will be assuming command of the Seventh Fleet. You will prepare to attack the shipyards.”
“Aye, Admiral.”
“We will be working to distract the Cromah while Commodore Knight wipes out their shipyard,” stated Admiral Rustic. “Know that dissent will be dealt with harshly, but I am trusting you to do your duty and obey my command without question.”
“Yes, sir!” the assembled commodores replied.
Commodore Knight had even more respect for Rustic. While she knew that he had no intent to advance further, he was certainly setting her up to do so.
Her next plan of action would be the boldest move yet.