The turquoise queen, p.34
The Turquoise Queen, page 34
part #1 of Coalition Series
She reached for the detonator to the charges she'd planted on the landing pad. Triggering them now could serve as a diversion, enable her to escape. She paused. The blast might kill some of her own people. With the enemy closing in from all sides, they had probably failed to clear the area. Anyway, it wouldn't work, these soldiers were too close, too single-minded in their pursuit.
Irshte shot one more Sencris down as he moved in, then felt a pinprick on the base of her neck, and turned to face her second attacker and gun him down. But it was too late. In seconds, the pinprick gave way to a spreading numbness.
She yanked out the offending object from her neck, gave it a look. A tranquilizer dart. A cruder method of subduing one's target than the stun setting on an energy pistol. It took longer to work. At least it hurt a lot less than getting zapped, she admitted, the numbness creeping into her arms, starting to force her eyelids shut.
Meanwhile, the rest of the Sencris special forces were fast approaching. The dart meant they had orders to take her alive. The thought made her hazy mind panic. That meant they knew who she was. The Raiac struggled to maintain consciousness, to aim her weapon at the first of the approaching soldiers.
There was a multicolored blur where she'd fired. That must mean a shield impact. No way to be sure, everything was blurry. The next shot incinerated some grass, because her arm refused to keep straight. Too late, she decided to point the pistol at her own head, but even her fingers wouldn't budge now. Knowing they had her, the Sencris took cover behind the trees and waited for her to black out.
Purchasing Vengeance
Natalie paced around in her hotel room, on New Gaia's capital. It was comfortable, if not spacious. To her relief, she had found her accounts untouched by the Sencris invaders. Someone, either the Voldrajuh or another of Erchtria's agents, had managed to transfer the funds to a secure local server.
This meant she could afford the place, without having to go begging to Rajendra Holt or some other government official. It was for the best, as she doubted they'd be very cooperative. Since the Raiacs' departure, neither the president nor his staff had returned her many contact attempts. They knew what she had to say, and did not want to hear it.
As she paced, she never let her transmitter's screen out of sight. She was waiting for a call, from someone whose schedule must be at least as busy as Holt's. Which meant she had to wait, for as long as it took, knowing he might cancel her appointment without warning and that, if he did, she'd have to smile and say that she understood. No problem. She'd been relieved to get an appointment with this man at all, and surprised at how little insistence it had taken to get it. Just a couple requests to his staff and, soon enough, they'd informed her that he was willing to talk, at a precise date.
Natalie's plans hinged on this call. As the minutes dragged on, she struggled to keep her impatience and nerves in check. Since departing from Illuminated Ocean, there were aspects of diplomatic work she'd begun to miss. Not this one. In this sense, Erchtria had spoiled her a bit, as heads of state went. The Raiac regent might be manipulative, but she didn't keep her waiting.
Almost two hours after the scheduled time, she heard the machine beep and rushed to answer it. On the screen appeared a dark grey face, with three black eyes and long antennae tilting forward. He wore a black suit with electric blue lines along the seams.
"Senator Nmai, thank you for granting me an audience, and for the Federation's continued support of the Coalition forces."
She bowed and formed a triangle with her fingertips. It took some acting to thank him for the meager, indirect assistance his people had thus far provided in the war. But she had contacted him to ask for help, so it was good form to be flattering.
"Natalie Kadomodo, former ambassador to Illuminated Ocean, a pleasure." He returned the gesture, with two triangles. "The Coalition. How unfortunate that Earthling involvement in that initiative was cut short."
He seemed to already know why she'd sought him out. This was promising, it meant he was already interested in the proposal she wished to make.
"That is why I requested this audience. It is my hope that the Federation can help me remedy that tragic mistake."
He frowned, as if he was confused. For a man of his reputation, there was no doubt this was an act. Nmai understood the situation. He just wanted to be sure she did as well.
"I don't see how," he said. "From what I hear, your president is already negotiating terms of surrender with the Sencris, despite your best efforts to dissuade him. I wonder why Holt doesn't answer your calls."
That was a bit too detailed for comfort. Erchtria wasn't the only one with eyes and ears everywhere, it turned out. Either that, or all her recent proximity with powerful people had made Natalie more interesting than she gave herself credit for.
"I suppose when you know, deep inside, that you are wrong, the last thing you want is to hear someone telling you how wrong you are."
That got a chuckle out of the Actonertalic. She wasn't that sure the president was wrong though. Perhaps suing for peace, and waiting for the Federation to intervene, was the smart move after all. She recalled what she'd told herself after fleeing Earth, and the stories her great-grandfather used to tell her. The Sencris were civilized tyrants, living under their rule would not be so bad, once hostilities ended. That had served to reassure her that her parents would be all right but, as an excuse to bow her head and give up, it fell short. No, if the government would not fight to liberate the homeworld, she would find someone who would. She had a clear notion of who that might be.
"Senator, the Coalition is up against overwhelming odds. They need our navy, they need every warship available." That included the numerous cruisers under Nmai's command, but she refrained from mentioning that. "I believe I can get some of our admirals to defy president Holt's decision and rejoin the war effort. For that, I need your assistance."
To her surprise, Nmai didn't respond right away. She had expected him to point out his government's decision to remain neutral, their frustrating refusal to bring their might to bear and cut the conflict short. Instead he seemed eager to hear her proposal.
"To persuade them," she continued, "I will need to make assurances. I would need you to guarantee our ships safe port in the Federation, should the war not go our way. I would also need you to provide funding for personnel and fleet maintenance in general. And for a large-scale publicity campaign."
That last bit took him by surprise.
"Public opinion is on our side right now," she explained. "We need to keep it that way, remind people of what an outrage losing Earth was, of how we must fight to take it back."
He thought for a while. She wasn't asking the Federation to take direct part in the war. That hadn't worked when Erchtria tried it, and it would not work now. Still, the amount of resources she'd just requested was substantial. And she was an unknown quantity, talking to him for the first time. He had no reason to trust her ability to handle an operation of this scale.
"Publicity." He smiled. "You've thought of everything. What you suggest sounds a lot like a military coup, Natalie Kadomodo."
"Not really," she said, quick. " From what I've been told, the moment Holt signs a surrender, someone in the military is likely to declare his government illegitimate anyway. So you see, by giving the navy a way to act, I'm actually helping him stay in power. The president might even be glad to hear his admirals have taken matters into their own hands. As I recall from our last meeting, his idea of surrender did involve our fleet going into hiding, to carry out clandestine raids on the Empire."
Nmai nodded. This was turning out to be easier than she'd predicted. If he was as tough a negotiator as she'd heard, it wasn't showing. Then it dawned on her why he was being so cooperative.
"I am inclined to help you," he said. "The Federation can provide all the resources you need, and a safe haven for your ships to retreat to, in case of defeat. However, how might we recoup our investment, if the Empire prevails?"
That was why he'd been so willing to listen to Natalie. Bringing the Earthlings back into the fight fit neatly into his own agenda. Katrim Nmai meant to use this war to wear the Sencris down, so that his people could move against them in the future. Every allied warship other than his own counted towards that goal.
"If that happens," Natalie said, "you can always collect from the Sencris themselves. That is what you intend to do anyway, is it not?"
The Actonertalic grinned wide, accentuating the many wrinkles on his face. Then he spoke as if reading from a prepared speech.
"As of now, the Federation has no official post-war strategy in place. However, I believe we can be of assistance in your cause. We will be in touch."
With that, they bid farewell and ended the transmission. Getting the largest economy in known space to back her had turned out to be the easy part. She stepped back for a moment, took a deep breath, and imputed a new set of digits into the secure communicator. The number for her contact in the military.
A frigate's second in command, she'd met him in a pub near the local spaceport. Not by chance though. She'd known the place was a meeting spot for officers on shore leave. The location favored ship crews, while its price range tended to scare away those of lower patents. As if to drive home the theme, the decor's centerpiece was an antique Actonertalic drone.
He'd approached her on the bar counter, asked her name, and told her, in a flattering tone, that she didn't look like most people there. It was true. Most of the patrons, even when inebriated, had a precision and exaggerated confidence to their gestures, which she lacked. Or maybe it was something else, she wasn't sure. She could tell they were soldiers, and they could tell she was not one.
They'd chatted for a long while, with Natalie always steering the conversation towards his life, his opinions about the war in particular. In fact, these days it was a difficult subject to avoid, they'd both agreed. After a few drinks, and a few failed attempts at flirting, he had mustered up the courage to talk openly about his superiors. Maybe he'd felt it would make him seem more imposing in her eyes.
He had told her of their discontent with the current situation. "Damn right we're all angry, we just lost the bloody homeworld," he'd exclaimed. Next, in whispers, he'd confessed that the admiralty was furious at president Holt, at his plans to surrender to the invaders. They wanted to keep fighting, to retake Earth at any cost. And he agreed with them.
"You think they might disobey his orders, revolt?" She'd asked, feigning shock at the possibility.
After a lot of thinking, he'd nodded and said that yes, he believed most of them would. At that, his expression had changed of a sudden. He must've started wondering why this civilian woman he'd just met was asking these sorts of questions.
Before he could turn defensive, she had suggested, in vague terms so as to not risk incriminating herself, that she might be able to help with that. She had left the pub that night with the contact number she'd just imputed into her communicator, and promised to stay in touch with further information.
That same man's face appeared on Natalie's screen. Answering from his quarters aboard his frigate, he now wore his full uniform. She told him she wanted to meet, in the same place they'd met for the first time. He had information she needed, and it was safer to get it in person. That way, there was less chance of them both getting accused of treason.
It was a rare convenience for her, being able to meet a key contact in person. It eliminated a lot of the habitual perils, like the interception of a message by spies. Usually they'd be in different star systems, or separated by rank or some inconvenient border. This time, the man was just a shuttle trip away, and she sure would take advantage of that.
At night, she sat again at the counter, in the bar by the spaceport. All around, under patriotic blue and green lighting, people chatted and drank. Most were at least in their forties. Some, having just left their post, were still uniformed. She spotted a few civilians too, like herself. Moments later, the officer sat on the stool beside her, with a nervous look on his face.
"You told me you wanted to stay in the fight, to retake Earth. Did you mean it?" She asked. "Your superiors too?"
He spared the old drone overhead a glance. Its graphite body dangled from high strength cables, the flat muzzle of its weapon gutted of all dangerous components. He nodded, once.
"In that case," she smiled, "I need you to put me in touch with the admiralty. I have a proposition to make."
Without another word, he uploaded the necessary contact information to her computer and promised to pass her message up the navy's hierarchy.
"Time is a factor," she reminded him as he got up to leave. He hadn't even stayed long enough to order anything. She could see how acting against the government put him on edge, yet she had a feeling he'd get the job done. She finished her drink, asked the bartender for another. This situation made her nervous too, after all.
All that was left for her to do was to seek out the Earthling admirals and convince as many of them to join her. Though they were battered and broken from a crushing defeat, she hoped the itch for vengeance would still be fresh in their hearts. For her earlier conversation with Nmai had reminded her of how easy it was to convince people to do a thing, if that was what they already felt like doing in the first place. It was but a matter of giving them the subtle extra push they needed, of convincing them that the nagging voice of their conscience had been right all along.
Interrogator
Flameridrail the Third swam on the bridge of his flagship, the Sankharidon. It was an old prototype, over three thousand tides old now. A survivor of the great war, retrofitted and upgraded many times, always with the latest military technology. Larger and more powerful than even other dreadnoughts, it was a fitting seat of power for a Rageris, as he led his people on their latest campaign.
As in most warships, the bridge was a fortress, located deep in the leviathan's heart, wrapped in layers of armor, as far from all the dangers of combat as possible. Its single, curving bulkhead was covered by an uninterrupted screen capable of displaying all manner of combat information. When idle, it showed a full view of the starry darkness outside, where many of the flagship's smaller siblings flew by.
The Rageris was there to conduct an inspection. In the previous days, he had visited the ocean cities of Aknossideli, and gazed in awe at the ancient statues left by its gargantuan, long dead native inhabitants. The local population had organized parades and festivities in his honor down there. Since the scourge's passing, this world had come to belong to the Sencris alone. It belonged, above all, to Sencris troops, naval officers, and engineers. To their families, and to those who catered to their everyday needs. Flameridrail was worshiped here, perhaps more than in the capital. For this was one of the places where Dreadnoughts were born.
He had toured the shipyards in orbit. With a look of pride and approval on his face, he'd posed for pictures in front of the observation windows. Behind him, hulks in several states of completion, surrounded by arches of scaffolding. Some were still bare metallic skeletons, others already sported patches of their final golden skin.
The Rageris was not alone in this inspection. Forty-nine others had accompanied him in every step of his tour, perhaps hoping some of the locals' adoration would rub off on them. Now, they also swam in the flagship's corridors and chambers.
For the moment, Flameridrail was observing the bridge's routine operations. Multiple Sencris sat at chairs forming a semicircle around the captain's, each coordinating some aspect of the ship's functioning. Many tides ago, when he was still young, he had operated one of those consoles himself.
Weapons control, on another warship. He remembered pressing the button on the screen to make an insurgent base disappear, once. For the most part, however, he had only experienced simulated combat. In his lifetime, the only true war his people had fought was the one against the Actonertalics. The one he had started, with the encouragement and blessing of those forty-nine others. Just like this tide's war.
It must make the crew nervous and annoyed, he thought, to have such a large group of people meddling in their affairs. Many of the Sankhron Ree had only done their basic mandatory tour in the military, long ago. They must ask all sorts of obvious, irritating questions. It was the crew's begrudging duty to answer and accommodate them.
After leaving the captain with some words of encouragement, the Rageris proceeded to the next item in his schedule. The inspection had instilled some nostalgia in him, for the older, simpler tides when he was responsible for only a subsystem of a single warship in a very large armada. What came next was a stark reminder of the weight he shouldered in the present.
He swam up the bridge's main door, into a large adjacent room no other dreadnought possessed. This room was designed for the specific purpose of serving as a command center, from where the Rageris or his admirals could oversee an entire battlefield with ease. It had a wall screen too. Where, on a regular day, only a handful of top navy brass would be, dozens of comfortable chairs had been installed.
A few were already taken when Flameridrail arrived. More poured in over the next few minutes. He was to address the Ree, to give them an update on the war effort. There would be questions, commentaries and demands aplenty, no doubt.
The last of them to arrive gave profuse apologies for the delay. A wrong turn in the engineering section, he explained. The Rageris took position in front of the group, motioning for them to be silent.
