Lagrange Point Five, Cardenas (Findlay IV), Findlay System, Eriuman Republic
Every planet in Erium had an impound field, usually at one of the lagrange points if the planet had a moon. The Eriuman Navy used the threat of assignment to one of the deadyards as a way of keeping junior officers in line. Lieutenant Hersilia Decilla had the comfort of knowing she was not alone, that on Eriuman planets everywhere, other officers were also staring at motionless junk. The only element that differentiated Hersilia from those others was that her assignment was at least the Cardenas field. It was one of the bigger ones and besides, it was Cardenas. The city provided compensation in off-duty periods…or it used to.
The riots and protests over the banishment and disappearance of Bellona Cardenas were increasing. It had become difficult to travel anywhere within the city. Between security checks by the family enforcers and the protesters themselves, it took twice as long to get anywhere. That chewed up off-duty time in a way that was vexing.
Hersilia looked around. There was only one enlisted man on the patrol shuttle with her. Everything else was automated. Yenis was off in some other corner, also sulking, so she took the opportunity to pull up her personal dashboard. There were more entertaining ways to pass the dead shift up here than staring at junk. She needed to figure out where she was going to eat tonight, that wouldn’t take most of her off-shift time just getting there from the landing field.
Although she didn’t abandon her work altogether. She kept one screen trained on the junk and glanced at it every few minutes.
Yenis noticed first, though. He ran onto the deck, blowing hard. “Didn’t you see it?” he demanded. “It’s right there in front of you!”
Hersilia dismissed her dashboard quickly and pulled up the other feeds.
One of the ships was moving.
She started at it, fascinated. It wasn’t simply revolving on its own axis as they all did. It was moving in a solid direction. She pegged one of the dead ships as a measurement base and watched the escapee gradually widen the gap between it and the dead ship. It was definitely moving. It looked as though it was easing its way out of the field.
“Ship shards,” Hersilia breathed.
“What do we do?” Yenis demanded, breathless with anticipation. This was the most excitement they’d had since either of them had been assigned here.
“It’s the family’s yard,” Hersilia said. “We have to bring in the enforcers.” She woke up the AI and set up a channel.
“This shuttle is faster than anything they’ve got,” Yenis pointed out. “It’ll take them time just getting off the surface.”
“Their yard, their call,” Hersilia repeated. She connected and waited. “Pull up the code for the runaway,” she told Yenis. “They’ll want it.”
“Cardenas Safeguard.” The male voice was curt.
“Cardenas, this is Balbus at L5. One of your junk ships is escaping.”
“Is that so?” Hersilia could hear the man’s amusement. “Isn’t it your job to keep them all corralled?”
“We watch ’em, that’s all. It’s your asset, Cardenas. What do you want us to do with it? It’ll take you an hour to get here.”
“Give us the number of the ship.”
Hersilia nodded at Yenis. Yenis sent the code and they both listened to the enforcer’s heavy breathing as he processed the code.
“That’s the Karassian yacht!” he cried, startling both of them. “Damn!”
“Shall we pursue?” Hersilia asked.
“No! Stay out of it. Damn it all…” The enforcer disconnected.
Hersilia frowned. “Well, that wasn’t very friendly.”
Yenis sat back. “Let them blow their energy chasing the thing. Look, it’s just following an orbital plane. It’s not even trying to escape. Some digital screw got loose, I’m guessing. They’ll shut it down, tow it back, all done.” He got to his feet. “I’m gonna go…” He made a motion toward the door.
“Have you got a party going in the cargo hold, Yenis?” Hersilia demanded.
Yenis looked irritated and coy at the same time.
“You know what? Never mind. I really do not want to know what you do by yourself down there.” Hersilia went back to her dashboard and forgot about Yenis, about the Karassian yacht and the rude enforcer and focused instead on what she would have for dinner.
* * * * *
Sang looked up at the roof far overhead. “Cardenas Safeguard have sent a ship after Connie.”
“Just one?” Khalil asked, pausing from checking the load meter on the ghostmaker he had selected. Around him, the small team they had assembled on the training floor was doing the same.
“Just the one so far,” Sang said. “There are no planet-wide alerts, either. Chatter suggests they believe they have a simple computer failure. The ship they sent after it is a tow barge. They are, however, concerned that it is the Karassian yacht that has wandered off.”
“Because it belongs to my immediate family,” Bellona said. “They’re covering their rears, that is all.”
Sang blinked again at her changed appearance. The blonde hair and pale skin was cosmetic only, but it was startling to see Xenia once more.
Bellona was not the only one adjusted to look Karassian. Most of the team wore the blonde hair, pale skin and brown eyes.
“So far, so good,” Zeni added, tossing bleached locks back over her shoulder.
“Connie is ready to dive,” Sang said. He looked at Bellona, who nodded.
“Make it look good,” Khalil said.
Everyone got to their feet, stowed weapons and looked to Bellona. She watched Sang.
“Descending fast,” he told her. At the same time, he reached out to the lone satellite overhead and smothered it.
“Move out!” Bellona cried.
* * * * *
The yacht settled down neatly between the three great fires that were jumping to life in a triangle around it. There wasn’t a lot of room between the yacht’s fins and the flames that were climbing up into the crisp night air, so Sang complimented Connie on her neatness.
She preened and opened the doors, welcoming them.
“Be nice,” Sang murmured as they hurried up the ramps.
Bellona patted the closest bulkhead as she hurried up to the control deck. “You were wonderful!” she crooned.
As soon as the last of the team were aboard, Sang asked Connie to take them up. The trajectory and navigational commands had been calculated days ago. Execution was all that was left to be done.
Connie suggested everyone strap in, then leapt for the upper atmosphere, holding the ascent at a level just beneath maximum inertial tolerances. Everyone moaned and waited it out.
Bellona kept her odd, pale brown gaze on Sang, where he sat in the copilot chair, monitoring.
“Passing the tow barge now,” Sang said. “They’re a thousand kilometers away. We’re well outside their scanner range and with the satellite down, they can’t initiate a sweep.” He checked the tow barge’s position second over second. “Not moving at all,” he added. “They’re quite likely occupied with watching the fire on the surface and wondering how to pass the news back to the city.”
The inertial pressure faded as Connie slowed and adjusted her heading.
Sang did a last check on the Alyard’s position and confirmed it with Connie. She suggested everyone prepare for the jump. Sang passed the recommendation along.
“Everyone, brace yourselves!” Bellona called.
They jumped.
* * * * *
The Karassian Homogeny ship Alyard was captained by Sandip. He had been awarded the chair three years before, despite the well-funded interest group who had campaigned against his appointment, who had said he was too young and inexperienced. So far his captaincy had been undistinguished. Sandip knew he needed a coup—a feat that sparkled with daring and courage—to draw attention to his abilities and earn himself a chair on a bigger ship than this little frigate. Only, being stuck out on the Eriuman border when all the action was happening in free space, meant that opportunities to shine bypassed Sandip.
When the security AI drew his attention to the yacht dropping out of null-space right next to them, its medic alert screaming for help, Sandip sighed. Another tourist who had wandered too close to Erium and had their tail feathers singed. They never learned.
“Tell it to hove to,” he instructed the AI. “Send the medical team aboard.”
The AI stuttered.
“What?” he demanded, as the rest of the bridge crew smirked.
The data read out on his screen, where everyone could see it. Sandip got to his feet. “Xenia?” he repeated. “That’s impossible!”
The yacht floated close enough to start proximity alarms yowling.
The screen changed to a live feed from the control deck of the luxury yacht. Sandip stared at the woman’s face. “Xenia,” he breathed. Of course, only someone like Xenia would be travelling in a yacht of this caliber.
She smiled. “A member of my crew has radiation burns. We need an isolation tank and therapy. My ship does not have such extended facilities, although I am sure you would not mind extending the courtesy, would you?”
Sandip hid his sudden excitement. All the executive functions of the ship were crowded onto the top deck. Medical was right next to the bridge. He could surely find some excuse to talk to Xenia herself while she was in medical. Perhaps he could impress her with his helpfulness and skills as a captain… “My medical facility is at your disposal,” he told her. He glanced at his exo, who nodded. “The landing bay is cleared and waiting for your arrival.”
“That is most pleasing, captain.” Her image dissolved.
Sandip turned to his exo. Greeta was busy at her screen. Hally, the senior medic, was speaking swiftly, giving instructions on the preparations necessary to take a radiation victim aboard, including clearing out unnecessary personnel along the passage between the landing bay and the medical unit.
“See to it,” Sandip told Greeta when she dismissed the screen.
She nodded and brought up six more screens, connecting simultaneously with her executive directors to coordinate the evacuation of the appropriate passages and junctions. The soft bleep of the radiation caution signal sounded. It would be heard throughout the ship, building louder if any idiot was silly enough to seek out the source of the radiation.
Sandip left Greeta to her preparations and went through to the medical bay. There, the quiet hysteria of a hospital emergency was already underway. Sandip caught Hally’s gaze and nodded. He stayed out of the way. Hally wasn’t above yelling at him if he interfered with the running of her facility. She was a biocomp and biobot, both. Her right hand was designed for surgery, micro-surgery and more. The implements were interchangeable, although mostly she wore the more natural-looking metal hand. Even that hand could swivel through a full circle, for exceptional flexibility. It always startled Sandip when she rotated it.
“Landed and sealed,” Greeta’s voice said, issuing from the nearest speaker for his ears in particular. “On their way. Ninety seconds, at most.”
Hally didn’t look as if she had heard Greeta’s announcement, yet the hospital suddenly calmed, as everyone looked toward the door the victim would come through.
The first person to appear at the open doorway was Xenia herself. She wore the military breastplate and boots she favored and a heavy ghostmaker strapped to her hip. Her hair was loose. She wasn’t as tall as Sandip had thought her to be.
Then the carrier slipped through the door and the medics and aides surged toward it.
Xenia spotted Sandip and moved toward him. She did not smile, although Sandip couldn’t remember her ever smiling, on any of the many reels he had seen of her in action. She had been fighting this war longer than he had been in the Karassian military. The victories she had fought and won! She had a right to be as dour as she wanted to be.
The sled behind her halted as the body in it sat up, throwing the blanket off with one arm, while bringing to bear upon the approaching staff one of the biggest ghostmakers Sandip had ever seen. He wasn’t sure how the dark-haired man was holding it up. The man wasn’t Karassian, which was puzzling.
Then Xenia reached Sandip and gripped his shoulder at the base of his neck and squeezed.
Instant pain blotted out all Sandip’s thoughts, including his massive surprise. He buckled under the weight of the pain, dropping to the floor. He could barely draw breath, it was so intense.
Then it disappeared, except for a warm spot on his shoulder that throbbed. Bliss was relative. He reveled in the absence of the pain for three short seconds. Then Xenia’s arm whipped around his throat and hauled him to his feet, choking off his breath. He grew still as the point of a knife stabbed the side of his neck. It was a smaller, sharper pain.
Xenia breathed in his ear. “We’re going to walk back to your bridge, where you are going to tell your exo and the other bridge staff that we are going on a little jaunt.”
Sandip swallowed. “To where?”
“We’ll give you the coordinates when we get out there,” said the man sitting on the edge of the sled, which was dipping with the imbalance of weight. He held the giant ghostmaker with a steady grip, watching the medical staff as they backed up against the wall, as far away from him as it was possible to get in the hospital.
All sorts of questions rose in Sandip’s mind. He wondered if this was some sort of Eriuman conspiracy, except the man on the sled didn’t look Eriuman, nor did the short man next to him, who had freckles. Another woman, very short, with large muscles, was removing anything in the medical trays that might be used as a weapon.
Free staters? What were free staters doing with Xenia? Sandip had heard all the rumors about Xenia, that she had disappeared—and it was true that there had been no recent footage of her victories, lately, which had fueled the rumors. Only, if she had defected to Erium, then surely the scream of outrage would have been heard across Karassia, for most people considered Xenia to be the most patriotic and perfect example of a good Karassian…
It was only as they marched Sandip out to the bridge, where the crew turned to gape at the sight of him being held at knifepoint that Sandip recognized this moment would not bring glory to him and change his fortunes for the better. He still wasn’t absolutely sure of what was happening. He just knew it would be bad, whatever it was. Xenia was a disruptive force wherever she went.
* * * * *
Cardenas (Findlay IV), Findlay System, Eriuman Republic.
Wait interrupted dinner with the news, which was unusual. Reynard apologized to Iulia and went back to the library with Wait to hear all of it properly. Even from in here, he could hear the distant sounds of the riots in the city. The partisans had called for a week of protests on this, the anniversary of Bellona’s return to Cardenas. Any protest they held always turned into a riot.
Even in his own mind, Reynard could not use the partisans’ full name.
Wait was agitated. “The Karassian yacht that was used to retrieve Bellona from Kachmar has gone missing.”
Reynard frowned. “Is there a connection to the protests?” he asked.
Wait consulted their sources. “Not that can be detected at this time. The Safeguard feel it was a malfunction. They tracked the ship to the southern hemisphere, where it fell. The tow barge that went after it reports that what is left of the ship is located on the edges of the Caramella desert, near one of the ghost towns. They located it because it was burning. There was little of it left.”
Reynard started. “Abilio? That is the ghost town?”
Wait showed surprise. “Yes.”
“Contact Admiral Lucretia Carosa of the Edanii, on the Severus. Tell her Bellona is escaping. Do it at once.”
Wait’s gaze drew blank as they communed with the necessary channels to get the message bullet to Lucretia.
“What is wrong, brother?” Gaubert asked, as he walked into the library. He wiped his mouth with the napkin he had carried from the table. “Iulia and Thora are worried.”
“It’s nothing. Go back to your dinner,” Reynard told him.
“It’s nothing that required reaching out to an Admiral from the Edan clan?”
“Lucretia is a steady admiral. She is ideally located to handle this. Thank you, Gaubert, I will return in a minute.”
Gaubert settled his hip on the back of one of the visitor chairs. “Handle what?”
Reynard’s irritation provoked him into speaking. “Bellona is moving off planet.”
“You mean she was here all along?” Gaubert’s surprise pushed him to his feet again.
Reynard realized he had said too much. Now he was committed to explaining himself. “I traced her as far as the southern continent,” Reynard told his brother. “Now, the yacht she used to escape Kachmar has apparently crashed in the desert there.”
“Which you do not believe.”
“It might be true,” Reynard admitted. “The coincidence is too large to assume it is, though.”
Gaubert frowned. “If the Pro-Repatriation Front hears she was on Cardenas all along and has now left, then they will assume that you removed her forcibly. It will fuel their cause.”
“I know that!” Reynard snapped. Hearing the name of the partisans spoken so freely made his temper flare. “Why do you think I’m asking the admiral to retrieve her?”
“The Safeguard won’t do it?”
“The Safeguard is riddled with partisans,” Reynard replied. “They all want Bellona restored to favor.”
Gaubert crossed his arms. “Did you ever think it would amount to this? Riots and civil disobedience?”
Reynard breathed hard. “They’re weak and afraid. They look at Bellona’s failure to reintegrate with the family and fear that they will also be cast from the Republic for something beyond their control. They fail to understand the subtleties.”
“What subtleties?” Gaubert asked. “After ten years under the Karassian yoke, she came home and no one liked the way she had changed.”
Wait raised their hand, their gaze focused upon Reynard once more. Wait had the Admiral waiting to speak to him, then.
Reynard waved Gaubert away. “You sound like a partisan yourself, little brother. Bellona made her own bed. Go and entertain the women.”