Finest Hour (The Exiled Fleet Book 3) Page 6

  “There are five,” she said.

  “Then pick the best and bring them in. Once they enter the embassy, they don’t leave. No contact with anyone outside. That understood?” Gage asked.

  “Commodore—I mean Regent—Gage, that’s a tall order. All five have families and—”

  Gage rapped the corner of the tablet against the door.

  “As you wish.” Carruthers raised her chin slightly. “Worse comes to worse, I’ll just have to move the family into the embassy as well. Not that we have room for any more after your security detail was added to our Marine complement.”

  “Send a copy of this up to Captain Price, my executive officer,” Gage said. “Any and all with military experience will be reactivated under the Emergency Decrees. The fleet needs every able body it can find.”

  “Naturally,” Carruthers said. “And when will you address the Albians here? You are the Regent, after all. You are the Crown.”

  “How many are there?”

  “Fifteen thousand, four hundred and twelve,” she said. “Not counting spouses or children with Indus citizenship.”

  “Another priority for me,” Gage said. “How did King Randolph deal with an entire planet and colonies?”

  “He was raised for the job from birth. You’re still used to being just a naval officer, isn’t that right? Now you have head of state, chief of law enforcement…could you imagine if Congress was still in session?”

  “I’d rather not. I have enough headaches as it is. Bring whatever Albian citizens you can to the spaceport. I’ll speak to them on my way back to the Orion. Fair enough?”

  “Easy enough,” she said. “We’ll be at the governor’s palace in a few minutes. How much do you know of Indus culture? Neo Sikh culture in particular?”

  “I was going to read the primer your office sent over, but I fell asleep on the shuttle.”

  “Then you need to listen to me very carefully…”

  ****

  The car pulled beneath a gold-plated arch adorned with carvings of elephants and script Gage couldn’t read. Thorvald was out of the car before it came to a complete stop, his fierce appearance as an almost-medieval armored knight in stark contrast to the Indus soldiers arrayed around the entrance to the palace.

  An Indus steward in a richly embroidered tunic opened the door for Gage, his head bowed as Gage exited. The Commodore adjusted the sword at his hip and followed Thorvald inside, Carruthers just behind him. The interior was done up in bright colors, and massive murals depicting holy men on Old Earth took up the walls.

  Admiral Chadda, wearing a sword on both hips, bowed quickly to Gage, then offered his hand. The Indus man was shorter than Gage anticipated, the top of his turban barely reaching Gage’s chin. Every inch of him struck Gage as a warrior, even though his feet were bare.

  “Commodore, a pleasure, welcome to Theni palace,” Chadda said. “We have food waiting for you. Please come with me.”

  “Admiral, time is of the essence,” Gage said. “If we could—”

  Carruthers cleared her throat.

  “If we could please hurry,” Gage said.

  “Certainly, but we must continue in a manner that is rightly guided, don’t you agree?” Chadda motioned to a set of double doors and they opened as they neared. Inside was a crowd of Indus military officers and others who Gage assumed were key political leaders. All the men had full beards. The women wore bright-colored sarongs over insulated body gloves. He wondered what effect the curved knives on every hip—man and woman—had on Thorvald.

  A long table was set with food that smelled spicier than anything Bertram made in the small kitchen attached to Gage’s quarters aboard the Orion.

  On a raised dais, three men in white robes holding simple musical instruments sat behind a table covered in a white sheet.

  “Let us receive wisdom from Guru Granth Sahib,” Chadda said. The sheet came off the table, revealing an open book so big it looked like it needed two men to carry it.

  “Who is the Guru?” Gage asked, pointing at the men behind the dais.

  “The Guru is the scripture,” Chadda said.

  The Indus sat down without prompting, and when Carruthers pulled against Gage’s elbow, he followed suit, shifting his sword across his lap. Two men came over to Gage and gripped the heels of his boots.

  “You were serious about this part,” Gage said under his breath to Carruthers and let them remove his boots.

  Chadda looked at Thorvald, who went to one knee. The armor around his feet and ankles flowed back and bunched around his shins.

  The musicians played a gentle tune and a man opened the massive book to a seemingly random page and recited in tune with the music. A few minutes later he closed the book and replaced the sheet.

  Gage stood up with Chadda and the same two men replaced Gage’s boots with practiced efficiency. A woman with henna tattoos up and down her hands handed Gage a plate of food. Thorvald passed a palm over the plate and blue flight glowed from the seams of his glove.

  “We would never—” Chadda began, angry.

  “I lost my admiral to one we trusted,” Gage said. “These are difficult times for everyone. Please excuse his tenacity.” He looked at the food: a simple mix of flat bread, a green paste he couldn’t identify, and a small mound of nuts.

  A scrum of officers and civilians formed around Chadda, all speaking to him rapidly. Chadda raised both hands up next to his turban and said stern words in the local dialect.

  Gage glanced at Carruthers.

  “They’ve lost their appetite and want to get to brass tacks, sir,” she said.

  “Finally.” Gage reached his plate toward the table, but Carruthers pushed his arm back to him as the Indus stood in silence, watching Gage. Dipping the bread in the paste, Gage took a bite.

  “Now we can go.” Carruthers took the plate from him and Chadda ushered him to a set of hidden doors that opened from the wall.

  Inside was a command center, with a single holo table in the center and tired-looking Indus men and women at workstations arrayed in expanding rings around the holo.

  “The battle for Punam City continues,” Chadda said as he led Gage to the center of the room. “The Daegon dropped troops, but with very little means of support. Their soldiers fight on even after they’ve run out of ammunition. We’ve taken no prisoners.”

  “By choice?” Gage asked as he walked down the small corridor between rings. The Indus all had their eyes on him, their tired gaze filled with hope.

  “We are merciful, even to the most merciless of enemies,” Chadda said. “The Daegon do not surrender. The wounded we come across kill themselves before we can treat them. Those too badly injured to resist are finished off by other Daegon or a…” he gestured to his neck, “some sort of a choker around their necks that cuts their arteries.”

  “Not all their dead have the chokers,” said an Indus officer in the white uniform of their Medical Corps. “We’ve found a number of them that…there’s something wrong with them.” He touched a panel and holo plates appeared in the tank, each showing the corpse of a Daegon, their helmets removed and faces exposed, their skin in green, blue or purple hues.

  “Are they aliens?” Chadda asked. “We’ve run a genome analysis and—”

  “They’re human,” Gage said. “Just as human as we are. You found they had significant radiation-exposure traits?” The medical officer nodded. “That’s consistent with the dead we’ve examined. Their leadership caste is…apart from their foot soldiers. The Daegon repeat ‘nobis regiray’ as either a command or a battle cry. It’s derived from Latin for ‘you will be ruled’ or words to that effect. It’s the only real clue we have to their culture. One of my agents brought a tech sample to a Martian and found a connection to Earth from just before the Mount Edziza disaster that sent the home world into an Ice Age and wrecked civilization for nearly two hundred years. Their evil is all too human. We need to accept that.”

  “There is no evil,” Chadda said, “
only the karma that we reap for ourselves. These Daegon are a new test from God, through dihraj and nioan will we defeat—”

  “Are those weapon systems?” Gage asked.

  Chadda tugged at his beard. “You do not understand. This is not a simple clash of void ships that we are fighting, but a battle of the spirit.”

  “Admiral, you may fight the spiritual battle as you see fit. I can only help you fight the Daegon on the material plane. Can we focus on that?” Gage asked, trying to stifle his annoyance even as Carruthers gasped faintly.

  “Please,” Chadda said and gestured to the holo tank.

  Gage reached into the tank and zoomed out to see all of New Madras and the two nearby moons.

  “The enemy prefers to fight at very close range,” Gage said. “Their control of slip space is far superior to our own and when they attack again, we won’t have much time to respond. I suggest moving your fleets to cover the Amritsar and screen above the major population centers.”

  He moved icons of Indus units to new positions over the planet, with three fleets very close to the star fort.

  “We do that and we’ve got a ball and chain around our ankle,” Chadda said. “Maneuvering so close to the gravity well is difficult. We’re practically stationary targets.” The Admiral touched the holo and the icons returned to their original spots. “This is how we’ve defended our star systems since the First Reach War. We protect the high orbitals to deny any enemy the chance to bombard the cities.”

  “And traditionally a planet will surrender once an enemy has the orbitals,” Gage said, “as they’re helpless against the destruction that would rain down on them from the ships that control their skies. I’m aware of this, Admiral, but the Daegon are not an enemy that holds to the same rules the Reich or the Mechanix do. They…they overran Albion’s defenses in hours. And they did it because our Home Fleet was arrayed just as you’re suggesting. The Daegon came in close to the atmosphere and our ships farther away couldn’t respond with long-range munitions for fear of hitting their homes on the surface. The Daegon use our own cities as shields. They count on us being unwilling to kill our own civilians…and they’re right about that. We won’t trade those lives.”

  “And this is why the Indus have been allied with Albion for so long,” Chadda touched Gage’s arm. “We aren’t that different from each other.”

  “We can’t fight this enemy the way we want to fight them,” Gage said. “They have their own tactics, and our way to victory is to exploit their vulnerabilities. They don’t have many options to use their blitz tactics on New Madras. Move our ships closer to the planet. Be there with guns ready to blow them out of the void the moment they appear.”

  Chadda clicked his tongue. “But if we are not as close…the Daegon will offer us battle there. A slugging match over a city guarantees collateral damage to the city. Don’t forget what happened to Locronan when the Reich attacked the Francia as they were evacuating the city.”

  “I’m aware of what happened. Millions killed when a shell hit a dam and flooded the city. Naturally the Reich and Franks blames each other. But what I’m telling you, Admiral, is that a fight in the low orbitals is unavoidable. The Daegon have already attacked Punam using these same tactics and—”

  “And they’re nearly defeated,” Chadda said. “Our Army is second to none. If the few remaining Daegon have some way to communicate to their commanders, then they know it is futile to try and beat us on the ground. We have the spirit of Havaldar Ishar Singh.”

  “I don’t know who…you’re not listening.” Gage took a slow breath to calm himself.

  “Your assessment of the Daegon holds for their initial attack.” Chadda crossed his arms over his chest. “But I must respectfully disagree with you as to their next steps. They will carry out a more conventional attack. My fleets will remain farther from the gravity well to respond to any Daegon incursion.”

  Gage looked over Chadda’s shoulder to the Indus officers behind him. They nodded and spoke amongst themselves, seemingly in agreement with the Admiral.

  Gage clasped his hands behind his back. Continuing to argue with Chadda would only make things worse. He’d taken a position in front of his staff—and, by proxy, every soldier and sailor under his command. To change after such a pronouncement would appear weak and indecisive. While Gage didn’t hold the same rank as Chadda, he knew when a commander could not be moved from a decision. Call it tunnel vision, call it obstinacy…it was a fact of leadership that Gage could recognize, but one he knew he couldn’t change quickly and easily.

  But to defend this planet, and give his fleet and Prince Aidan a chance to survive, he had to bring Chadda around.

  “Admiral, this is your command and your responsibility,” Gage said. “I and the Albion fleet are your allies…but we are your guests as well. May I suggest we carry out war games in the holo? Perhaps we can glean better tactics, together, that way.”

  “While a ground battle is still on going?” Chadda shook his head. “While the Daegon could return at any moment? We can’t afford time for ‘games,’ Commodore.”

  Gage’s jaw clenched, but he forced himself to relax. Further argument would only damage his relationship with the Indus.

  “Then let us discuss repairs to my ships,” Gage said. “You have nine mobile void docks in orbit. I need three of them to bring my destroyer force to full strength.”

  “This I can do.” Chadda smiled. “Some tea?”

  Gage nodded slowly as worst-case scenarios played out in the back of his mind.

  ****

  Gage tapped the tip of his sword scabbard against the floorboard of his ground car as it drove back to the spaceport. He eyes passed over Indus on the streets, civilians going about their lives as seemingly normal as ever.

  His face was hard, and he ground his teeth ever so slightly.

  “That bad?” Carruthers asked.

  “Fool,” Gage said. “Myopic. Close-minded. Fool.”

  “From a diplomat’s point of view, you did great,” she said. “We had to fight the first half of the Second Reach War without the Indus. They do come around…just takes them awhile.”

  “Their ships will be flaming comets over these skies and their cities will be on fire before they ‘come around,’ Ambassador,” Gage said. “Albion has paid the blood price to know how the Daegon fight, and Chadda doesn’t seem to care.”

  “Then what do we do, Regent?” she asked.

  “I can’t evacuate every Albian on this planet,” Gage said. “And if I could, where would we go? Our colonies and our home world are under Daegon rule. We’ve been reduced to an itinerant people. I was raised such that Albion was—is—the bright light of civilization on the edge of settled space. Now that light is here on New Madras and…and it’s flickering, Carruthers. I’m no Admiral Sartorius. He knew the Indus better than I. He would have left that room with more than dock time on ship tenders and a half promise for our staff—not commanders—to carry out war games.”

  “Again, you did very well from where I stood,” she said. “Chadda isn’t known for his competence among the senior leaders of this planet, but all the criticism for him evaporated as soon as the first Daegon ship came in through slip space. Indus aren’t the types to try to wrest away military control at the first sign of trouble. They view that as on par with shuttle passengers trying to take over the cockpit when turbulence hits mid-flight.”

  Gage mumbled.

  “And what will you do once the nav systems have enough data to make the slip-space journey out of this system?” she asked.

  “Vishuddha,” Gage said. “Meet with the rest of the League, organize a counteroffensive to liberate Albion…something that’ll be easier to do if I can show up with a victory here on New Madras.”

  “The League…the mutual defense pact of the treaty was meant to convince the Reich from starting a third Reach War. The Daegon are a new threat, whoever or whatever they are,” Carruthers said. “Do we even know how strong they are? H
ow many ships they have?”

  “You think the League is a waste of time?”

  “No, Regent, I’m saying that convincing the League to launch an offensive to retake Albion isn’t going to be easy. You think the Cathay emperor will just give you his Golden Fleet and leave the Forbidden Planet unguarded when there could be a Daegon armada on the way to his throne world?”

  “The Daegon will defeat us in detail, take us out one by one, if the League doesn’t act as one and hit back. That’s the reasoning behind the entire mutual defense pact. There are enough rational leaders through the League to realize this,” Gage said.

  “Not in my decades of politics. People are people, and when they’re afraid rationality is an early casualty. And what of your subjects here?” she asked. “You need an answer to that, sire, because Albians are waiting for you at the star port.”

  “‘Sire?’ I’m no noble, Carruthers. I’m as common born as they come,” he said.

  “You are the Regent. We see you as the Crown, like it or not…and you need an answer in the next few minutes. We’re almost there.”

  “Blast it.” Gage looked through the front windshield to see a crowd gathered around a hangar. “I forgot all about…can we…” He seemed to shrink into his seat. “I did agree to meet with them, didn’t I?”

  “You did, sire,” she said.

  “Stop calling me that, feels wrong. Just ‘Commodore,’ all right?”

  “Yes, sire. May I suggest you tell them something to quell their fear?”

  “I’ll tell them the truth, no matter how painful it may be,” Gage said. “Chadda was all about karma. I may not believe in it, but I can see the value in not telling them the situation is all milk and honey then being contradicted by a Daegon attack minutes later.”

  “I’m just glad it’s you that has to do this,” Carruthers said. “I’m getting too old to keep a happy face on all the time.”

  “The crowd scans clear of any weapons,” Thorvald said over his shoulder. “Remember the mob protocols.”

  “These are Albians, Thorvald,” Gage said. “They’re our people.”