Cardenas (Findlay IV), Findlay System, Eriuman Republic
What she was doing was questionable. Perhaps even illegal. Iulia had never been tempted to do it before. Therefore, she had never had reason to acquaint herself with Eriuman military security laws surrounding the subject. She carefully didn’t ask for clarification now, from Wait or Riz or even Gaubert, before setting up a small screen and running the security footage from the Criselda armaments depot.
That had been four days ago. After multiple repeats, Iulia asked Wait to compile the various angles into a time-related whole. The resulting monologue was choppy yet coherent. While she dealt with homebase administrative matters in her boudoir office, she had let the video run on a loop, repeating itself.
Her attention was always snagged by the same fragments, causing her to pause what she was doing and look up at the screen to watch them play out. Only one of the fragments focused completely upon Bellona, while the rest were wide-angled footage with small figures crossing the range of the camera lens. In the focused section, the woman who had been her daughter was carrying a ghostmaker as she ran with two others. One of those two was Sang, the family asset, except it was barely recognizable. It had taken on male characteristics since Iulia had seen it last.
The possible reasons why Bellona might have ordered it to do that were few and all of them troubling. All of them pointed to the vast distance Bellona had travelled since leaving home.
Iulia heard the sound of water splashing, coming from the family room. Someone was using the bathing pool. It wouldn’t be Thora. She preferred to sleep on hot afternoons.
Iulia redraped her mantle, told Wait to pause the play-back and went through to the family room, her sandals slapping the polished stone floor. As she had suspected, it was Gaubert in the pool. He rested in one corner with his arms spread and his head back. He had submersed himself first and his hair and flesh were damp.
He lifted his head as Iulia entered. “Be a sweet and pass me my drink?”
Iulia went back to the sideboard, where a single glass sat, sweating moisture. The sideboard was against the one solid wall of the room. Like the gathering room on the other side of the public wing, the family room used forcefields for walls, filling in the gaps between the massive pillars. The invisible fields gave the family a grand view of the low mountain ranges around the city. At the moment, the fields were off, letting in natural air. She could hear insects buzzing and clicking in the gardens, beyond. It was a lazy sound unique to late summer afternoons in the city.
Iulia picked up the glass and nodded at Lix, Gaubert’s help-meet, which stood next to the sideboard. Hiding her annoyance at being asked to act as help-meet, she carried the glass to Gaubert, who took it with a murmured thank you.
Then she slid off her sandals, stepped down to the top step of the pool and paused as the finger-deep water played over her feet. The coolness drew her attention to how warm it was in the room. She gathered the hem of her dress up out of the way and sat on the edge of the pool, then rested her feet on the second step. The water lapped around the top of her calves.
“Are you sick of watching that security feed yet?” Gaubert asked. He put the glass aside, rested his head back and closed his eyes.
“You knew what I was doing?” she asked, startled.
“You disappeared for three days. I made it a point to find out.”
“You don’t mind?”
“I know why you’re doing it.” He opened one eye. “I’m a parent, too.”
“I no longer have a daughter,” she reminded him.
He opened the other eye to consider her. “You’re still wearing red,” he pointed out.
“Yes.” She didn’t try to make the flat word pretty.
“You really hate her that much for what she did to Reynard? Your own daughter?”
Iulia rearranged the folds of the gauzy red dress over her lap to stop it trailing in the water. “Who was it you spoke to in the Homogeny? Who gave you the city killer?”
Gaubert didn’t answer straight away. His gaze sharpened. “I didn’t think it was possible for a mother to reject a child, as you are.”
“Did you meet them on Antini?”
He sat up, shedding fat droplets. “No one gave Erium the city killer. We took it from the Karassians.”
“With their cooperation, I’m sure,” Iulia added. “I don’t care about the city killer, anyway. I want—”
“You don’t?”
She shrugged. “What can be stolen can be stolen again. Then deconstructed. Then copied. Now, the Karassians won’t dare use the thing because it could be used against them and we’re back to the stalemate. That is my point, Gaubert.”
He frowned. “The stalemate?”
“You worked with the Karassians to acquire the city killer. Don’t look at me that way and don’t protest. That story about stealing the thing is a convenient face-saver. Just don’t ask me to believe it. I lived with Reynard for forty years and there were many such conveniences presented to me. I know what they look like.”
Gaubert leaned back and closed his eyes. “Perhaps you should get to your point.”
“I am at my point. You have a unique advantage over every other clan head, Gaubert. You have the ear of Karassia. Peru cannot claim that. Neither can Raine.”
“Karassia does not listen to me,” he said distantly. “They provided information. Once. That is all.”
“They will listen, when you propose a working partnership.”
He didn’t just open a single eye this time. He sat up, making the water surge and slap against the sides of the pool and her lower legs. “A partnership? With Karassia? You are mad.”
“Maybe. You need a platform, something to give you an advantage over Peru and Raine, yes?”
Gaubert licked his lips. “Why would I—why would anyone—want to work with the Karassians? We join with them and the war is over. It would be the political equivalent of admitting defeat.”
“Would the war really be over, though?” she asked.
“A war requires an enemy. If we’re working with the Karassians, there would be no enemy left.”
“That’s not entirely true.”
Gaubert rested his elbows on his bony knees and linked his hands together. It was something Reynard used to do. Was he trying to look more like his older brother?
“You’re really so angry with your daughter you would declare war upon her?” he asked.
“She will do that.” Iulia echoed Gaubert’s pose. She folded her arms and leaned on her knees. It was a useful echo, for it displayed her décolletage perfectly.
On cue, his gaze flicked toward her breasts, then bounced back up to her face. He swallowed. “Bellona is having a tantrum. That’s all. She’ll grow bored with her new project in a few months and come home again.”
Iulia shook her head. “You’re wrong. I’ve been studying the footage, Gaubert. She didn’t steal nearly as many ghostmakers as the assembly would like us to believe. She did get through a high security perimeter and take what she wanted. She has people who look to her. She has a mission. We gave her all the motivation she needs to fight for it. The Assembly would like to believe she is just an expensive nuisance. She will become more than that. When she does, you will look prophetic in your insistence upon an accord with Karassia.”
Gaubert shook his head. “You can’t possibly know that.”
“I know Bellona.” She smiled, to soften the statement. “You must sow the seeds now, Gaubert. Talk to the other heads about your relationship with Karassia and how that could be used to Eriuman advantage. Then, when Bellona and her little group overshadow the Homogeny threat, you will be there to offer the solution.”
“To work with Karassia to wipe out Bellona? You really want revenge that much you would kill your own daughter?”
Iulia took the time to draw in a breath and calm herself. “By the time a working arrangement is needed with Karassia, it won’t be just my daughter the Republic is facing. It will be the power of the free worlds working together.”
Gaubert snorted. “That will never happen.”
His tone said she had pushed too far. Iulia shrugged, retreating a little way. “Perhaps. Who am I to know anything? What could it hurt to put down the groundwork, though? To talk to some people? If I am right, you will be perfectly positioned.”
Gaubert’s knee rose and fell, as he thought it through. “I suppose there would be no harm in talking.”
“You have little to lose,” she said in agreement. “And so much you could gain from being the only Scordinii with vision.”
Gaubert settled back against the tiles once more. “Tonight, perhaps. Or tomorrow, if it is cooler. Get me a refill, would you, Iulia? This damn heat is draining all my energy.”
Iulia rose to her feet and stepped out of the pool, then went to get his requested glass of punch, not nearly as irked about the help-meet task as she had been before.
* * * * *
The former Karassian Homogeny Ship Alyard, Null-Space
Amilcare rarely came onto the bridge itself. He fidgeted and shifted from foot to foot, looking around the big, sterile area, as Zeni complained, his deeply lined face and protruding eyes troubled. From years of mining the minerals from beneath Abilio, his vision had deteriorated and been corrected numerous times and now his eyes were no longer Eriuman black, but a washed out brown.
Yet he was one of the more capable lieutenants to emerge from beneath Abilio, among the nearly forty recruits who had joined Bellona’s cause. They had been scraping a living from the mineral mine when she and Sang had first arrived there.
Bellona studied him as Zeni wound herself up into a fury over the Abilio crew’s rebellious ways and their latest infractions—this time, a refusal to attend the minimum daily training Zeni orchestrated in the cargo hold each morning.
Amilcare didn’t seem to be listening to Zeni. He didn’t seem to be paying much attention to anything. He was an independent man—all the Abilio people were. Bellona had learned to give them parameters and goals and let them get on with achieving them in their own way. He only appeared to be not paying attention right now. In his own way, he was absorbing everything, she was sure.
When Zeni fell silent at last, Amilcare lifted his square chin and looked at Bellona, perhaps challenging her to do something about it.
Only direct action would serve. Rhetoric did not move Amilcare and his teams.
Bellona launched herself at Amilcare, getting her hands around his neck and squeezing, before he could react.
No one else moved. Sang watched with interest and Khalil smiled. Zeni smothered a little shriek of shock and shuffled out of the way.
Amilcare struggled to fight Bellona off. She wound her leg around his and disrupted his balance, so his bodyweight was falling against her. To defend himself he would first have to shift his weight back to his own feet, which was impossible as long as she had a grip around his neck.
She squeezed.
Amilcare’s eyes seemed to protrude even more, growing wider. A whisper of breath wheezed out of him as he scrabbled weakly at her hands.
As soon as she could see his consciousness was fading, Bellona released him. She let him slide to the floor, lowering his weight so he landed softly, then propped him against the back of the navigation station.
His breath rasped, his head hanging, the thick black, waving locks shot with gray hanging limply.
Zeni cleared her throat. “You don’t intend to kill him, then?”
“Of course not,” Bellona replied. She crouched down in front of Amilcare. “Can you hear me?”
He nodded. He didn’t lift his head.
“I don’t have to guess what that felt like,” she said. “I’ve been exactly where you were a moment ago. Helpless, useless and defeated. It is not a good feeling, to know that someone else has complete control over you and your life.”
Amilcare breathed in, his shoulders and chest lifting, then out. “Yes,” he whispered.
“Watch me,” she told him and got to her feet again. “Look at me, Amilcare.”
He raised his chin. His eyes were bloodshot, a result of the strangling. Anger made the lines running down his cheeks deeper.
Bellona nodded. Without telegraphing her intentions, she turned and rammed into Sang, taking him off his feet. She grabbed his neck and squeezed, in the same way she had held Amilcare.
Sang reacted automatically, the actions ingrained in him. He slumped, letting his full weight sag in her hands. It was the unexpected thing to do but took a degree of discipline to overcome the normal human response to fight back and go limp, instead. The sudden, heavy weight dragged her hands down and loosened her grip on his neck.
It also pulled her down to the floor. She landed heavily on one hip, with a sharp exhalation as pain exploded there.
Sang’s hands landed flat on the floor next to her. He pushed off with them, thrusting up onto his feet, breaking her hold. His boot landed on her chest, just below her chin, pinning her down. He grew still, breathing hard.
Amilcare’s eyes had widened even more. Zeni’s, too.
Sang took away his foot and held out his hand. “I apologize,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean—”
“You acted exactly as you should,” Bellona said, using his hand to help get herself back onto her feet. Her hip throbbed. She looked down at Amilcare. “That is why I insist you train with Zeni every day. You will know, in your bones, that no one can control you the way I just did.”
Amilcare swallowed, then winced at the movement. “Karassians and Eriumans…they don’t fight. Not like that. They hang in space and kill us from there. Fancy stuff like that can’t stop a city killer.”
Khalil crossed his arms. “Listen to yourself, Amilcare. You just said the magic words.”
Amilcare blinked, frowning.
“You said ‘Karassians and Eriumans don’t fight like that’,” Khalil added.
Amilcare stared at him.
“They can’t fight like that because they don’t know how,” Khalil said. “You do…or you will, if you keep up the training.”
Amilcare’s frown increased, making the lines on his face shift.
“Learn to defend yourself,” Bellona told him. “It will serve you well, even if it is not proof against city killers. While you learn, I am working on neutralizing the city killers.”
“How?” Amilcare demanded.
She looked at Sang.
“Four minutes,” Sang replied.
“In four minutes, I will show you,” Bellona told Amilcare. “Stay on the bridge until then.”
Amilcare nodded.
Bellona went back to the oversized, overstuff Captain’s chair and sank into it.
Khalil followed her over. “You’re hurt,” he said softly, so no one could hear. He reached out to touch her hip.
She pushed his hand away. “I’m fine,” she said shortly.
Khalil let his hand drop.
Bellona rubbed her hip. “Why does it feel as if I’ve done that before?” she demanded.
“Done what?”
“Disciplined. Instructed. Given orders. Every time I do that, it feels like an echo of something I’ve done before. I can’t remember doing it. Yet it’s familiar.”
Khalil didn’t try to touch her again. “If the records we’re digging up from the Karassian databases are accurate—and there’s no reason to think they are not—then you have done it all before.”
“Xenia did that?” She was startled. “I thought she tore down civilizations and beat up helpless free-staters.”
“When she wasn’t doing that, she was a leader and strategist,” Khalil said. “It looks as though she planned most of the campaigns she led. She didn’t just follow orders. That’s why it may feel familiar to you, even though you don’t remember the details. It’s like muscle memory. Habit.”
Bellona shuddered. “I planned the defeat of Alkeides, then? It was all laid out in the file. A full military campaign, with strengths and weaknesses of the opposition and how to overcome them…I wrote that?”
Khalil’s gaze softened. “Xenia did that.”
“Am I ever going to remember doing it?”
He shook his head. “Those memories aren’t buried, Bella. They’re gone. Completely. You will never have to remember doing the things that Xenia did.”
“Except my body remembers for me,” she said, digging her fingers into her aching hip.
Khalil bent to look at her hip, his hands at his sides. “Sang did not spare you,” he said softly. “Perhaps the medical bay—”
“No,” she said firmly. “I was cruel, with Amilcare. I had to be, to make the point. I’ll accept the consequences, thank you.”
He straightened and his gaze met hers once more. “We should talk—”
The normal space alert chimed, echoing around the bridge. The same loud blare of notes would be repeated across the ship, ensuring everyone was braced for the emergence from null space into possibly hostile space.
The ship shuddered delicately as the null drive made the translation.
The permanent screens on the walls immediately came alive. Everyone turned to look at them, even Khalil, because Bellona was the only one who knew where they were and what was out there.
Hayes and Thecla, Fontana and the other Ledanians ran onto the bridge, too, looking around anxiously, trying to determine if there was a threat. Emergence from null space was always a high risk moment.
“Ship ahead!” Fontana cried, bending over the tactical table to study the dashboard. “Big ship!”
“Scanning and identifying!” Retha called out.
Bellona called up the scans and matched them to historical data. “Relax,” she told everyone. “The thing is harmless. Get a lens on it and you’ll see what I mean. Thecla?”
Thecla nodded and stepped behind the communications console and swiped at the controls.
The big center screen switched views from the default dead ahead view to an angle that encompassed the ship.
“What is that sound?” Vang said, looking up at the roof. “It sounds like rain.”
“Something hitting us,” Fontana said, frowning down at the scans. “I can’t see anything, though.”
“It’s debris,” Bellona told them. “Too small to hurt the ship. It’s inert and too small to register on the scans as a threat. Look.” She nodded toward the central screen again.
The ship on the screen looked quite small and was sitting in space, dead still. It was an elongated shape, with superstructures and outer attachments and weapons married to the original sleek shape.
“White ship. Karassian?” Hero said. “Where are we, anyway?”
Amilcare hauled himself to his feet, moving slowly, watching the screen.
Fontana looked at Bellona. “Do you want to save me from a directory search and just tell us who that is out there?”
“The ‘who’ is nobody,” she said. “That is the Karassian Homogeny Ship Aarens.”
“The cruiser?” Thecla said, startled.
“Shit,” Fontana breathed, staring at it. “It’s dead, isn’t it?”
Aideen stood by the corner of the console he was working on, looking up at the screen. “The Aarens was a casualty of the battle against the Republic, who opposed the possession of the Alkeides system,” she said, with the flat voice that said she was recalling and reciting data from records she had read elsewhere. “The space engines were destroyed, forcing the Aarens to abandon, all hands evacuated to other Homogeny ships.”
“Hayes, take manual control of the helm,” Bellona told the giant. “Pass us slowly by the carrier, so everyone can take a look.”
Hayes ambled over to the helm. He peered down at the controls, then ran his hand over them. The Alyard swung around. The lens focused on the Aarens tracked with the movement, keeping the ghost ship on the center of the screen. The Alyard moved forward slowly.
“We’re over Alkeides?” Retha asked.
“It’s a short hop behind us,” Bellona told him. “The Republic and the Homogeny fought here, before the Karassians went on to claim Alkeides.”
“Felis,” Aideen added. “That’s its name now.”
“Felis,” Bellona said in agreement.
“More of your bedtime reading?” Khalil asked quietly.
“Yes.” She studied the ship growing larger on the screen. The scorch marks and jagged fuselage surrounding the massive normal space engines were the only visible damage to the ship.
“It looks completely whole and untouched,” Vang said.
“If it is, then what debris is raining on us?” Fontana demanded.
“What is left of the Quattrocchi,” Bellona told them.
“The Republic destroyer,” Aideen added. “Xenia ordered the Aarens to play dead. When the destroyer came up from behind, they fired the engines at full throttle and did not engage the thrusters. The reactors on the Quattrocchi were incinerated by the exhaust and containment was breached. The explosion set off a chain reaction inside the ship, as heat-sensitive objects reacted to the sudden temperature spike. The Republic withdrew after that.”
“It melted,” Vang said, fascinated.
“From the inside,” Retha added.
“It exploded,” Thecla corrected them. “Nothing could contain the interior of a whole destroyer going critical.”
Khalil was studying Bellona with close attention.
“What?” she demanded.
“Why bring us here?” he asked. “Why dig up old memories like this?”
“Because something good can come out of Xenia’s doings.” She got to her feet and moved closer to the screen. Hayes was drifting the Alyard over the top of the cruiser.
“We can’t steal the Aarens, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Khalil said. “If the space engines could have been recovered, the Karassians would have reclaimed the ship long ago.”
“Exactly,” Bellona told him.
On the screen, the shadow of the Alyard fell across the cruiser’s hull. It was a tiny dark mark.
“Big ship,” Hayes said softly.
“Fucking huge,” Vang added. “I hadn’t realized how big they were.”
The Alyard’s shadow tracked along the length of the cruiser for long minutes as everyone stared at the dead vessel.
Khalil stirred. “What do you intend to do with it, then?” he asked.
“Claim it,” Bellona replied. “You’re all looking at that massive structure out there as a ship. Something that moves through space to get somewhere else. What I see, when I look at it, is a place to call home.”
Silence. All eyes were on the screen.
Sang smiled. “It will need a name,” he pointed out. “Aarens is a ship name. A Homogeny name.”
“Nothing Eriuman, either,” Hero said sharply.
“What do you call a place that used to be a ship, that is a new free state?” Khalil asked of everyone.
“Demosthenes,” Bellona told them.
No one looked away from the screen.
“Terran antiquity,” Aideen said. “It means ‘The strength of the people’.”
“Demos,” Fontana said, trying it out. “Demos, demon, demonic. Demosthenes.” He nodded, satisfied. “Sounds about right.”