Starhold's Fate (Starhold Series Book 4) Page 5

  This was harder than he thought it was going to be. Pettigrew had been through this with grieving captains before, but never with someone so close to him, and never regarding a ship he had known so well.

  Nyondo swiped a tear from her cheek and threw her good hand up behind her, resting it on top of a pillow. “We lost seventy-six people, a fourth of the crew—my crew. You say there was nothing I could do differently, but a Board of Inquiry might not agree.”

  “It must have been horrible, but this is war, and horrible things happen to good people every day. Beating yourself up won’t help anyone, least of all you. As for a Board of Inquiry, that might be postponed indefinitely.”

  “What are you talking about? How do you scuttle a Board of Inquiry?” Nyondo asked before her expression changed to one of curiosity. “Say, what’s going on? Why are you here?” She tried unsuccessfully to shift her body again. “Help me sit up on the edge of the bed, will ya?”

  Pettigrew gently pulled her upright. Her smooth brown skin belied the cuts and bruises hiding under various bandages and gauze strips pasted across her arms and legs.

  “I thought you just had a busted shoulder. How did you get so torn up?”

  “Paruzzi and I got tossed around pretty good inside the life pod. Those Massang bastards were still shooting at us as we pulled away from battlespace. And this,” she said pointing to the large bandage on her right temple, “this is Paruzzi’s doing. He told you that he carried me to the life pod after finding me unconscious on the bridge, right? We were in zero gee by then. Well, somewhere along the way the ship lurched and I floated away from him—right into a bulkhead door. A comedy of freakin’ errors, right? I got a pretty good concussion. Between that and those stupid pills, I was in and out of it for several days. Anyway, no permanent damage. Surgery to repair my shoulder is tomorrow and I’ll be out of this place by the end of the week. So, I ask again, Admiral—why have you really come to see me?”

  He crossed his arms and nodded. “All right, I’ll give it to you straight. First, I’m here to check on the health of a dear friend. Second, I’m here to offer said dear friend a position.”

  “A starship?”

  “No. There are no ships to give you at the moment, and even if there were…”

  “Chaz, I’m not crazy and I’m not suicidal,” Nyondo lashed out defensively. “I made a mistake.”

  Pettigrew moved beside her and leaned against the edge of the bed.

  “We all make mistakes, Sunny” he said softly. “I’m thinking maybe I made one by pushing you into the captaincy of Tempest. Don’t get me wrong—you’re a good captain and you do your job well. But maybe the whole thing was something I wanted for you instead of something you would have chosen for yourself. If that was the case, I apologize.”

  She shifted her body to face him, wincing as she moved her injured shoulder.

  “I’m a grown woman and I make my own decisions. You didn’t force me into anything. I wanted command of Tempest and feel honored to have been her captain. I even enjoyed it—most of the time,” she said with a wisp of a smile that vanished quickly. “I’m just sorry to have lost her.” Her good shoulder slumped as she added, “And to have disappointed you.”

  Pettigrew stepped in front of her so he could look straight into her eyes. “Captain Nyondo, you have never, I repeat, never disappointed me. I’ve always been proud of you, both as an officer of the Fleet and as a friend. Please get that through your thick, banged-up head. That is an order, Captain.”

  She looked surprised for an instant, and then smiled. “Yes, sir. And thank you. Those words help a lot.” It was the first genuine pleasure he had seen from her today. “So, back to my question. If you don’t have a ship for me, and you don’t need a flag captain…”

  “Already got a flag captain—Tom Porter.”

  “Porter, huh? He’s supposed to be pretty good. OK, then what do you have in mind for me?”

  “I need a Chief of Staff.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You want me as your Chief of Staff? Man, you must be desperate. What happened to Captain Orlov?”

  “He was reassigned. Orlov is on his way to the Lytori homeworld, posted there to the Space Force liaison office. That means I need a new person to help me keep my head on straight. Boris was efficient, but he and I never really clicked. When I heard you…”

  “When you heard I wouldn’t be getting another ship for a while…”

  “When I heard you were indisposed, you became the leading and sole candidate for the job. My staff is very good, they practically manage themselves.”

  “Then why do you need me?”

  “Because… I just do,” he said, impatience creeping into his voice. “I need someone I can trust, someone who will tell me when I’m doing the right thing and when I’m screwing up. We’ve always worked well together, haven’t we?”

  He could tell she was tossing the idea around in her mind. Maybe it would help if he pressed home her options.

  “If you sign on with me, Central Command has agreed to fast-track anything related to Tempest, which means you are in the clear. I have that directly from Admiral Tovar,” Pettigrew said, shifting into a grave tone. “Sunny, something big is in the works. I can’t go into details right now, but this is a way for you to get back into the fight. It may be your only way.”

  She eyed him with a peculiar look, one he couldn’t read. It might have been a mixture of suspicion and amusement.

  “Basically, you’re telling me I can go to work for you or sit around the Artemis system waiting for a Board of Inquiry to convene. Sir, that’s blackmail.”

  Pettigrew snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “Exactly the clarity of thought I need in a Chief of Staff,” he joked. “What do you say?”

  There was that look again. When she first boarded Tempest eight years ago as a young lieutenant, Sunny Nyondo was so introverted it was all she could do to make eye contact with her commanding officer. Now, as this beautiful, complex woman gazed at him, he could swear she was staring right down into his very soul.

  “OK, you’ve got yourself a Chief of Staff,” she answered at last. “But only because I won’t be getting a ship anytime soon. Besides, you are right.”

  “It was bound to happen sooner or later. Exactly what am I right about?”

  “We work well together.”

  There was a knock at the door just before a nurse stuck his head into the room. “Excuse me, ma’am, but we need to grab a few more pictures of that shoulder of yours.”

  “I need to be leaving anyway,” Pettigrew said. “I’ll try to check in tomorrow after your surgery.”

  “By the way,” said Nyondo calling after him just before he departed. “Rumor is you have a new flagship. I hear Warspite is refitting at Hodiak Yard.”

  “That’s true, but I’m going to pass on a battleship and go with Crossbow.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Oohhh, a shiny new heavy cruiser.”

  “Of course,” he said with a goodbye wave and a genial smile. “You know deep down inside I’m a cruiser man.”

  5: Imperial Aegis

  Esterkeep

  The Imperial Ward

  Planet Sarissa

  Repaying a debt had never been a problem for Frank Carr. In this instance, he just wished there was another way to do it.

  Carr and Sanchez had been back to Sarissa multiple times since emigrating to Earth, but their visits were always to metropolitan Boutwell, not Esterkeep. Today, they were returning to the capital for the first time in years to accept an assignment. It was a duty Carr had hoped never to perform again.

  He and Sanchez arrived at the Imperial Palace in the early morning, just in time to witness their second sunrise of the day. Ushered from the shuttlepad directly onto the grounds by Lieutenant Hawkins, they passed through the spacious East Garden into the Palace proper and its endless maze of corridors.

  “I still can’t believe you’re from Quijano,” said Sanchez as they walked down yet another expans
ive hallway. “Hawkins isn’t exactly a common Quijanan surname.” Most of the original settlers on Sanchez’s native world had come from the South and Central American regions of Earth.

  “My great, great plus grandfather was a crew member on one of the first Quijano-bound arkships,” explained Hawkins. “He brought along his family and they joined the original colonists.”

  “Where did you grow up?”

  “Santo Pacian born and bred, Commander.”

  Carr mentally cringed as Hawkins’s referenced his wife’s former military rank. The casual reference just reinforced the reality of this day. Like it or not, they were both back in the service of the Sarissan government.

  Before departing Earth, Carr had quickly turned over the day-to-day operation of his archeology firm to his foreman, Voss Mumphrey. No telling how long this job would take—a week, a month, longer? In the back of his mind, Carr was trying to tamp down the possibility that something bad might happen, that they might never see Earth again. Gods, I’m getting to be such an old man.

  When he and Sanchez were last in the Imperial Palace, Ardith Flood had just assumed the throne. Back then, the Palace was brand new and somewhat empty. Four years later, the building looked remarkably different.

  “I see that a lot of very fine artwork has found its way here,” Carr commented to the lieutenant. “In particular, a great many statues and paintings of Renata Darracott.”

  “I know. It’s as if she were still on the throne,” grumbled Hawkins. “The art is a tribute to the first Empress. In a way, everything around here is a testimony to Renata. Ardith has a real thing about that.” Catching an odd look from Sanchez, the young man corrected himself. “Empress Ardith, I mean.”

  “I see on the Nets that Her Majesty still wears the hair,’ remarked Sanchez, a reference to the short-cropped platinum hair that was Renata’s trademark.

  “Yes. She wants it to become a tradition, that every Sarissan monarch will wear their hair that way,” said Hawkins. “More Renata adoration.”

  Carr and Sanchez both knew the truth, that Renata Darracott was not really dead. Her assassination had been faked as part of a plot to topple Fleet Admiral Channa Maxon from power. Certain members of the Kaskian Guard were in on the plan, but apparently Ardith had kept it down to a select and trusted few.

  “Does she dye her hair or did she have cosmetic gene therapy?” asked Sanchez.

  “Therapy—next left, please.”

  “Bennett Boyer, is he still around?” Carr was fishing for more information as they turned a corner.

  The answer to that question came from another Kaskian Guard, a curly-haired man waiting for them in front of a huge set of double doors. “The Professor left about a year ago to enjoy a well-deserved retirement.”

  “What a novel idea,” Carr shot back at the stocky man in a Kaskian colonel’s uniform. “To be able to enjoy retirement without being Shanghaied back into the service. How are you, Vickery?” He smiled and extended a hand to the commander of Her Majesty’s security team.

  “Frank Carr. I swear—if you weren’t bitching about something, I’d begin to worry.” The two men shook hands before Vickery turned to do the same with Sanchez.

  “Commander, how are you? I trust Lieutenant Hawkins has taken good care of you.”

  “Indeed, he has. We were just discussing the Palace décor.”

  “Let me guess,” said Vickery giving Hawkins a cockeyed look. “Too much Renata. The young lieutenant here is our resident republican. If he had his way, we would both be back in the regular army.”

  Hawkins blushed slightly, but didn’t back off. “That’s not exactly true, Commander Sanchez. I’m a constitutional monarchist. I believe the Empress should govern, but with the advice and consent of an elected Assembly.”

  “And you’re OK with saying that out loud, right here in the middle of the Palace?” asked a skeptical Carr.

  “Everyone around here knows my views, including Her Majesty,” Hawkins declared with surprising self-assurance. “After all, she recruited me personally, back when she was plain old Ardith Flood, chief of the Kaskian Guard. And don’t let a difference of political opinion fool you, Major Carr,” Hawkins added. “I would kill to protect Ardith—I mean, Her Majesty.”

  “That he would,” echoed Vickery with pride in his voice.

  Carr had no doubt. He guessed that Vickery and the other two-thousand Kaskian Guards felt the same way, as did countless more. The Massang War had moved people to seek out a beacon of hope, someone to rally around. For millions, Empress Ardith had become that person. Whole planets were now begging to live under the protection of the Sarissan flag. Six additional worlds had joined the realm since the war began. Ardith of the House of Darracott now reigned over forty percent of humankind. In the eyes of many, she was the only thing standing between them and the nightmare of Massang domination.

  “Vickery, why are we here? What’s this all about?” asked Carr.

  “You are both about to find out. Her Majesty is ready to see you. Hawkins, you are dismissed.”

  The young man offered them a quick salute before dashing away.

  “He seems very sharp,” said Sanchez as soon as Hawkins got out of earshot. “And very inciteful.”

  Vickery grunted and placed his hands on his hips. “He thinks too much for a soldier, but all in all, he’s a good lad.”

  “You said she was waiting on us,” prompted the impatient Carr.

  The burly Colonel’s voice turned serious. “This room is called the Jade Hall. Her Majesty will brief you personally. It will be a private audience, but that doesn’t mean you will be alone. There may be a few people moving around on the periphery of the hall—ignore them. Enter, move forward until you see the mark on the floor, then drop to a kneeling position.

  “When you rise, you will be facing Her Majesty and two advisors, Lord Khoury and Lady Belford. Khoury sometimes likes to play the fool, but he’s a sharp operator. Lady Belford is, um… well, just be careful what you say to Belford.”

  Sanchez looked puzzled. “Khoury? Belford? Vickery, I’ve never heard of these people.”

  “You’ve been on the shelf for a while, Commander.”

  This meeting wasn’t going to be what Carr had anticipated. “I thought this was going to be a little more, you know—informal.”

  The Palace commander shook his head. “My friends, those simple days are over. You two will do fine. I’ll meet you over there in the foyer after you finish.”

  Carr glanced at his wife as they passed through the doorway. Sanchez was trying to be cool but he could sense her apprehension. Carr was unsettled, too. He had envisioned a nice meeting in a comfortable office, all very off the record. Instead, they were about to give a performance.

  Inside the Jade Hall, bright illumination in the center of the cavernous room dropped off into darkness around the edges. If there were any windows, they were closed and covered. Long, dusky curtains draped the margins of the chamber, the areas where Vickery warned stray eyes might be lurking. There were stray voices too. Carr could hear random whispers as he and Sanchez moved forward together.

  He wanted to look around and size up the situation, but Sanchez was proceeding at breakneck speed. Carr had to walk quickly to keep pace with her, but understood his spouse’s tactic—show no fear. When they came to about eight meters in front of the Empress, they each dropped to one knee, hands placed on the other knee and heads bowed.

  “Please rise, my friends.”

  Her Imperial Majesty Ardith was seated directly in front of them, not upon a throne, but rather a curved oak and leather curule chair. She wore a gray Army service uniform with the insignia of colonel, her rank when she assumed command of the Kaskian Guard for Renata Darracott. Carr followed the news carefully, and this was a look Ardith often chose for public appearances in these days of war.

  Her advisors flanked the Empress. Lord Khoury was sitting off to her right with Lady Belford on her left. Khoury wore a blue business suit.
He was a dark and handsome man, someone of obvious breeding who wielded a smooth but disingenuous smile.

  His counterpart, Lady Belford, sat on the edge of her chair looking anxious, as if she might spring upright at any moment. In her mid-thirties, Belford’s long jet-black hair contrasted with her ghostly pale skin. As Carr and Sanchez approached the dais, her close-set eyes never wavered from them.

  Ardith smiled. “You have both been away from this court for too long. It pleases me to see you again.”

  “We come to serve, My Empress,” Sanchez responded in a clear, strong voice.

  “And to pay our debt,” added Carr dryly.

  Belford instantly seized on his words. “Simply to pay a debt, Major Carr? Do you not feel loyalty to your sovereign? To your starhold?”

  “With respect, My Lady,” interrupted Sanchez before Carr could respond, “our home is on Earth now.”

  “Yes, if I recall correctly, you each hold dual citizenship,” said Ardith. “That was our arrangement, was it not?”

  Belford pointed an accusatory finger in their direction. “Dual citizenship means dual loyalties, Majesty. They obviously consider themselves Earthers now.”

  Lord Khoury snickered. “Well, in a very real sense, we are all children of Earth. Is that not true, dear sister?”

  Sister? They didn’t look alike, so maybe he meant it figuratively.

  “I appreciate your concerns, Lady Belford,” assured the Empress. “However, your fears are unfounded. If I vouch for them, will that calm your thoughts? After all, they are both here at my request.”

  Khoury snickered again, his amusement clearly aimed at Belford. Perhaps they really were siblings.

  Still perched on the edge of her seat, the pasty Belford bowed her head. “I meant no disrespect, ma’am—to you.”

  “But you did to us,” blurted out Carr. He wasn’t in the mood for games. “Let me set the record straight for everyone here in the hall, both persons seen and unseen. My wife and I didn’t come twenty-eight light-years on the spur of the moment to be bullied by some junior bureaucrat. If Her Majesty needs us for a mission, all she needs to do is ask—but even she needs to ask nicely. Now, is everyone clear about where we stand?”