By Honor Betray'd: Mageworlds #3 (24 page)

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Authors: Debra Doyle,James D. Macdonald

BOOK: By Honor Betray'd: Mageworlds #3
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“I’m not quite certain what it is,” Vinhalyn said. He nodded toward the image in the tank. “This just came in over the hi-comms net; they showed it with the morning news, and I grabbed a copy for the record. The original broadcast is several weeks old—it got backdoored into the local node via the links on Perpayne. The direct links on Galcen and in the Infabede sector are suppressing it along with the rest of the news.”
He paused. “In fact, this message may be why those links aren’t yet fully operational.”
Vinhalyn touched a control on the desktop, and the picture in the holovid tank came to life. The stylized planetary globe of the news service faded into the image of a young woman seated in a chair of state. Her pale yellow hair was arranged in intricate braids underneath a tiara of twisted black metal.
Ari’s breath caught in his chest.
Beka?
He didn’t want to believe it—not after everything Bee had done to avoid assuming such a role—but the voice in the holovid was his sister’s, and no mistake.
“People of the Republic! A Mageworlds warfleet has attacked Galcen. Singly we cannot stand against them; we must work together if we are to survive. If you have a ship that can fight, or a ship that can be made to fight, or the knowledge and skills to work such a ship, come to Suivi Point, where we will build a fleet such as can capture the galaxy. To this goal I pledge my resources; to this goal I pledge my name and sign myself:
“Beka Rosselin-Metadi, Domina of Lost Entibor, of Entibor-in-Exile, and of the Colonies Beyond.”
Vinhalyn touched the control again and the picture winked out. “I’m not altogether certain what to make of this,” the acting CO said quietly. “I was hoping you could provide me with enough data to reach a decision.”
“If you want me to vouch for her identity,” Ari said, “I will. Barring a gene scan, of course, there’s no way to be absolutely certain, but the voice and the physical appearance are my sister’s, all right—and the announcement itself is pure undiluted Beka.”
Vinhalyn shook his head. “At the risk of stating the obvious, Commander, Beka Rosselin-Metadi died in a spaceship crash on Artat.”
“That may be obvious,” said Ari, “but it’s not true. The wreck was staged. I ought to know; I’ve seen her myself since it happened.”
“I understand. Rosselin-Metadi, you know your sibling far better than I do. What does she think she can do with such a proclamation?”
“Stir up trouble,” Ari said at once.
“Seriously, Commander.”
“I am serious. Bee was born wanting to make trouble. In this case, she’s doing it for a good cause—and at considerable risk—but it’s trouble all the same.”
Llannat spoke up for the first time since entering the acting CO’s office. “She’s drawing fire. As long as she’s alive, the Mages can’t give anything their undivided attention.”
“Like I said. Trouble.”
Ari frowned at the image in the tank.
I used to wish that Bee would grow up and remember who she was supposed to be. I should have known she’d wait until being the Domina was a good way to get herself killed
… .
Vinhalyn was looking thoughtful. “Useful trouble, however,” he said. “The old planetary royalties have a strong following in some segments of the population. A new Domina of Lost Entibor will provide them with an emotional center for their resistance.”
“A new Domina.” Llannat was barely whispering now; Ari glanced at her, and saw that she had gone as pale as her brown skin would permit. “But I thought the Domina was dead.”
 
“Right, then,” General Metadi said to the Tactical Action Officer in
Veratina
’s CIC. “Three-position attack, standard formation. Head it in.”
“Heading in, aye.”
The heavy cruiser—with its screen of destroyers, transports, and fast couriers—commenced a run-to-jump. At the end of the run, the vessels vanished completely from the normal universe, leaving only an empty starfield behind them. Five minutes later and a long way away, the flotilla dropped out of hyper in Galcen nearspace.
“Status on the hypercom relay nodes?” Metadi asked.
“In place and operational,” responded the crew member at the sensor screen.
“Good,” said Metadi. He turned to the TAO, a commander. “Take them out.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
The TAO gave the orders, and
Veratina
began weaving its search-and-destroy pattern in the space around Galcen. One by one the orbital relays appeared within the main battle tank—as green dots for supposedly fixed and permanent structures—only to wink out when the ’
Tina
’s missiles hit.
Commander Quetaya glanced over the crew member’s shoulder at the primary sensor screen. “I don’t see any couriers leaving.”
“I’ll lend ’em one of mine if I have to,” Metadi said.
“Give it time.”
“Wait … .” Quetaya looked at the screen. “Launch flare from Galcen South Polar.”
“Got it,” said the sensor tech. “Tracking.”
Metadi leaned forward in the command chair. “What do we have?”
“Courier,” said the sensor tech. A red dot appeared in the main battle tank, a fast craft moving on a run-to-jump. “Unfamiliar signature. Evaluate Magebuilt.”
“Take it under attack. But miss. I say again, miss.”
“Miss it, aye, two mil offset dialed in,” said the TAO.
“Second launch flare,” the tech reported. Now two red dots shone inside the battle tank, moving fast. “Another courier.”
“Take out the second one. And anything else that lifts.”
The ’
Tina
’s guns fired. One of the red dots vanished.
“Got him,” said the sensor tech. “Still tracking the remaining courier. Got his course locked in … calculating systems along his track … he’s jumped.”
“Very good,” Metadi said, and turned again to the TAO. “Ready all our atmosphere-capable fighters, and hit the dirtside launch facilities as hard as you can. Take out communications centers, spaceports, and spacecraft, then get out of here.”
“We can only do superficial damage in the time we’ve got,” Quetaya pointed out.
“It’ll do for showing folks that the Mageworlders haven’t taken over the galaxy yet,” said Metadi. He watched the swirl of blue dots in the main battle tank that meant the ’
Tina
was dropping off the fighter squadron.
Time passed. No more ships, Magebuilt or otherwise, lifted from any of Galcen’s ports. Eventually a cloud of blue dots rose up like a swarm in the battle tank: the fighter squadron was coming back home. A crew member looked up from the lightspeed communications console.
“Fighter detachment reports light resistance. Major objectives achieved.”
“Tell them, ‘Well done,’” Metadi said. “And sound the ‘fallback’ signal—I want to get out of here as soon as the fighters have docked. What’s the track on that courier?”
Commander Quetaya had one of the CIC comp screens lit and working. “Gyffer’s the first place on his line, sir.”
“Gyffer,” said Metadi. His expression was thoughtful but not surprised. “The best spacecraft in the civilized galaxy come from the Gyfferan yards. Our Mageborn commander wants to repair his damaged units and get more ships, and he wants them badly enough to risk everything.”
Metadi turned to the TAO. “Set course for Gyfferan system space.”
 
The flotilla made its run-to-jump, and vanished from the Galcenian system. In the quiet that it left behind, parts of the broken and silent remnants of the hi-comms relays began drifting planetward like falling stars. Half an hour, Standard, after all the ships had jumped, a third courier—this one Republic-built—lifted from the far side of one of the system’s airless moons, and made its straight-line run into hyperspace unhindered by either Metadi or Mage.
 
GYFFER: SPACE FORCE INSTALLATION, TELABRYK FIELD;
NIGHT’S-BEAUTIFUL-DAUGHTER
GYFFERAN SECTOR: SWORD-OF-THE-DAWN
 
T
HE NOISE of
Warhammer
’s airlock cycling shut behind her was the sweetest sound Beka had heard since coming to Suivi Point. As soon as the safety light showed green, she unsealed her helmet and took a deep breath of the familiar shipboard air.
Home
, she thought.
Safe. Or at least, as safe as I’m going to get for a long, long time
.
She turned to Ignac’ LeSoit. “How’s Tarveet?”
“He made it.”
“Too damned bad,” she said. “If he hadn’t, I could have cycled him back out the lock and let the trash pickers find him when their shift changed.”
“Sorry I didn’t run slower. You want him stowed somewhere?”
“Yeah. Nyls?”
“Captain?”
“Help Ignac’ get Tarveet strapped down in crew berthing. I’ll be up in the cockpit getting the ’
Hammer
ready for liftoff.”
Leaving Jessan and the others to sort out their own accommodations, she half-walked, half-ran to the cockpit. So far, Contract Security hadn’t tried to keep her ship from leaving the surface, but she didn’t feel like betting her life and safety on how long that situation would continue.
The cockpit wasn’t empty when she got there. The CO of Suivi’s Space Force contingent was occupying the copilot’s seat and—from the look of things—monitoring Suivan comms over a headphone link.
“Welcome back, my lady,” said the CO—Yevil, that was her name. Captain Yevil.
Beka slid into her own seat and fastened the safety webbing. “Thanks … I suppose it’s your ships that are keeping the ConSecs from swarming all over us right now.”
“They had better be,” Yevil said. “My people have orders to neutralize ConSec and start firing on Suivi Point in less than an hour unless I countermand it personally. They’ve been in position for the last fifteen minutes. We didn’t have time to exchange codes, so everything was passed in the clear; the Suivis know what we’re up to, and the Steering Committee has been having hysterics all up and down the comm frequencies. Contract Security has bigger problems to worry about right now than a Domina on the loose.”
“I hope the ConSecs have nightmares for a month,” said Beka. “They deserve it. Keep your ships ready until I tell you to pull back. I want to get us off this rock in one piece.”
She started working her way through the lift-off checklist as quickly as she dared. Yevil was good; the Space Force CO replied as needed from the copilot’s side without hesitation. As soon as the run-through was finished, Beka flipped on the internal comm to the ’
Hammer
’s common room.
“Everybody ready back there?”
Nyls Jessan’s voice came over the cockpit audio. “Tarveet’s locked into the number-two berthing compartment, and we’ve got your brother and his apprentice in number-one.”
“How about you and Ignac’?”
“We can strap down in the common room—or we can ride it out in the gun bubbles, if you think that would be better.”
“Never hurts to be ready. Take the guns.”
“On our way.”
“Good.” She toggled on the warm-up sequence for the realspace engines, and brought up the ship’s nullgravs. As soon as the ship’s weight was no longer resting on the landing legs, she checked the engine status readout and increased the power.
“Ready at the guns?”
“Number One gun ready,” came Jessan’s reply; and, like an echo, from LeSoit: “Number Two gun ready.”
She pushed the ’
Hammer
’s forward nullgravs to max intensity, tilting the body of the ship up toward the zenith. The hum of the freighter’s realspace engines grew to a massive roar. She could feel their eager vibration down in the marrow of her bones.
I’m free. I’m alive. I have my ship. What else is there that matters, after all?
“Lifting in ten seconds,” she said. “Nine … eight … seven … six … five … four … three … two …
now
!”
Inertia pressed her back in her seat as the freighter’s engines took them away. The stern monitors showed the surface of Suivi Main dropping away behind them.
“Sensors up,” Yevil reported from the copilot’s seat. “Comms on line. Where to, my lady?”
“Any damned place but here.” Beka frowned, trying to call up the right term from her father’s tales of the bad old days. “Is there a—do your people have a sortie rendezvous?”
Yevil looked mildly startled. “Of course. Regulations.”
“My big brother always did claim the Space Force regs were good for something besides taking up file space,” Beka said. “Looks like he was right. Give your ships their orders and let’s get the hell out of Suivi.”
“Roger, my lady.” Yevil switched on the ship-to-ship lightspeed comms. “All units in Space Force Det Suivi, this is Space Force Det Suivi, negat previous orders, do not, I say again do not, attack Suivi Point. All units sortie, muster at point gridposit Oscar Whiskey. Standby, execute.”
The position plotting indicator gave a beep. “Wait a minute, what’s this?” Captain Yevil asked. A rank of yellow triangles showed up on the cockpit’s flatscreen monitor—unevaluated contacts dropping out of hyper.
Beka bit her lip. “Looks like the Steering Committee was screaming all over the comm frequencies for a reason. Can your people make an ID on any of those?”
“Coming in now,” Yevil said. The Space Force captain listened for a moment over the headphone link. When she spoke again, her voice was tight and level. “
Lekinusa
evaluates the contacts as Magebuilt destroyers, mothership, and fighter screen. We’re in trouble.”
 
In the CO’s office, the holovid likeness of Beka Rosselin-Metadi remained frozen in the tank.
“We all thought the Domina was dead,” said Ari. “Mother was, and Bee—well, she’d already told the family what we could do with the title and the Iron Crown and all the rest of it. But it looks like she changed her mind.”
“If your sister really is the Domina,” Llannat said, still frowning, “there’s something I think I’m supposed to tell her.”
“What sort of something?” Ari asked.
“That’s the problem. I’m not quite sure.”
“In any case,” Vinhalyn said gently, “it’s not likely to matter for some time. Nobody’s going to grant jump permission out of Gyfferan space under the present circumstances.”
Llannat gave an audible sigh. “I suppose not.” Her look of vague unhappiness, however, did not change, even after Vinhalyn turned off the holovid.
Ari took one glance at Llannat’s shadowed expression and said to the acting CO, “Actually, sir, we had another kind of permission in mind when we came in here.”
Vinhalyn smiled. “I can guess.”
Ari felt the blood rising in his face. “We—I didn’t mean to be that obvious. All we need right now is the basic paperwork to make everything legal. The celebrations can wait for later.”
“Nonsense,” said Vinhalyn at once. “If there’s anything I learned during the last war, it was that waiting for later was usually a bad idea. I’m sure the LDF won’t begrudge us the use of their officers’ club lounge for a small party … especially if their people can come to wish you happy as well.”
“Tonight,” Llannat said, and Ari felt a chill go through him at the quiet certainty in her voice. “Let it be tonight, then. Because they won’t have much more time.”
 
Grand Admiral sus-Airaalin rejoined
Sword-of-the-Dawn
at the warfleet’s rendezvous point, a few minutes in hyper from the extreme boundaries of Gyfferan territorial space. In spite of the battle that lay ahead, he was in a good humor as he came aboard the immense, black-hulled battleship. His diversion to the repair and supply base—a surviving installation from the Old War, restored in secret—had proved worthwhile after all.
Those of his agents who worked outside the protection of the Circles lived always in danger, both from the Adept-worlders they spied upon and from the Lords of the Resurgency who nominally controlled them. When sus-Airaalin had heard that Iekkenat Lisaiet was back on Eraasi and working as a bodyguard for the turncoat Ebenra D’Caer, he’d feared the worst—but Lisaiet had survived the experience, and through daring and good fortune was now in the place sus-Airaalin had always intended for him.
The only question
, thought the Grand Admiral,
is whether Lisaiet protects the young Domina because I ordered it, or for another reason altogether. Perada Rosselin had a gift for evoking loyalty from the most unlikely sources; the tales I hear of Beka Rosselin-Metadi suggest that she is like her mother in that respect at least.
“What news, Mael?” he asked Mid-Commander Taleion, as they paced together along the
Sword
’s observation deck.
“We’ve made no contact with the Gyfferans as yet, my lord,” Taleion reported. “Our contacts in Admiral Vallant’s fleet say that the Planetary Assembly has rebuffed all of his overtures.”
“Just as well,” sus-Airaalin said. “I have no desire to fight with Vallant over a prize that we never ceded to him.” The Grand Admiral frowned slightly. “I mislike dealing with Vallant; he is ambitious, and will bear watching. See to it, Mael.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Is there any other news?”
Taleion consulted his message tablet. “Admiral sus-Hasaaden reports that he has diverted elements of the reserve force to Suivi Point in response to a request from the local government for military aid against the Domina of Entibor.”
The Grand Admiral’s features darkened. “I had not taken sus-Hasaaden for a fool,” he said. “Until now.”
“How is that, my lord?”
“The young Domina has no more power than we choose to allow. She was living at Suivi Point on sufferance, Mael; the galaxy was on its way to forgetting about her. But now—thanks to sus-Hasaaden and a Suivan oligarch with more money than courage!—
now
she is important enough to frighten politicians and claim the attention of our fleet.”
“Shall I instruct sus-Hasaaden to call back the ships?”
“No. Now that we have pledged our assistance, it would be fatal to withdraw. Let him handle the matter as expeditiously as possible, and return to his assigned position.”
Mid-Commander Taleion made a note on his message tablet. Before he could speak again, however, an alarm sounded, and the light over the observation deck’s voicelink pickup began flashing yellow. The Grand Admiral strode across to the pickup and keyed it on.
“This is sus-Airaalin,” he said. “Report.”
“We have a contact up-Doppler, my lord.”
sus-Airaalin’s heart began to beat more strongly. He had known that Gyffer would not be an easy fight—the Resurgency’s agents had spoken with respect about the fleet that defended the groundside port and the huge orbital shipyards—but he had not expected them to be patrolling aggressively this far out of their main system space.
“Who?” he demanded. “And get a lock on it!”
“It vanished before we could get a fix, my lord. Just now.”
“A scout,” sus-Airaalin said. “Making a long-distance patrol in microjumps.”
Taleion said, “Do you think we were detected, my lord?”
“Their sensors are as good as ours, or better,” sus-Airaalin replied. “And the Gyfferans aren’t fools. I hadn’t thought that things would begin so soon—but this leaves us no choice.”
He spoke again into the voicelink pickup. “All vessels, stand by to rotate the formation. Assume tetrahedral attack vertices around the Gyfferan system.”
 
I wish
, Llannat Hyfid thought unhappily,
that someone would tell me what I ought to do. “Find the Domina” … and tell her—tell her what? That I’m alive, and her brother’s alive, and I’m turning into something as close to a Magelord as an Adept can get without switching sides completely?
The morning passed by without any new trouble to break the tension, and noontime came. Ari’s undisguised happiness during their shared lunch warmed her enough to push the doubts away; as soon as she was alone again, however, they returned in force. Her mother and sisters back on Maraghai would have called the mood nothing but worry over the marriage celebration yet to come—that is, once they’d gotten over their amazement that the Hyfid family’s odd girl out was going to have a marriage at all—but Llannat knew better. In a galaxy that seemed to get more confusing by the hour, marrying Ari was almost the only thing that made sense.

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