The Woman Who Lost Everything (The Warlord Book 3) Page 3
Pierson leant back in his chair and ran a hand through his short grey hair. There had been some fighting between the ships at the edge of the system before the Blackadder made off with the Havermere.
It was possible that they had captured someone from the Streamer Woman’s ship…or maybe even the woman herself. That would explain why the pirates thought the Streamer ship would still be nearby.
Conversely, the pirates could just be stupid.
Pierson pushed the report from the BWID to the side and pulled up the Omicron-9 strategic assessment.
The assessment was old, from one of the Omicron war games that the Bollam’s World Space Force had participated in a few decades past. It was a simulated assault on a system very much like Midditerra.
For decades, the pirates that operated out of Midditerra had been a thorn in the side of surrounding star systems. Though Bollam’s World was on the periphery of the Midditerra System’s reach, they had joined in the multi-system Omicron war games to see how other nearby militaries operated, as much as to practice an attack on Midditerra.
The problem with the Midditerrans was that they were more than just a band of outlaws who had managed to hold onto a star system for a few years. Within Midditerra, they lived under the rule of law—mostly. They had their canton lords, and their Defense Force.
In an all-out attack, Bollam’s World would certainly win against the MDF, but it would be costly. Half of the civilian ships within Midditerra were privateers that were nearly as well armed as destroyers.
It would be impossible to tell who was friend, foe, or innocent bystander.
Which was, of course, the reason why no one had yet tried to take out Midditerra. The cost just wasn’t worth the gain.
Though that may have finally changed.
Pierson rose from his chair and walked across his office to an open space in front of a window looking over the Genchuta Space Station. He made sure his uniform appeared crisp, and then put the president on the holoview.
The president appeared, wearing a white skinsuit that seemed to be on fire, blue-white flames licking their way up her body. Pierson wondered if that’s what she really was wearing, or if she was simply presenting herself that way on the holo.
He was grateful that his position in the military allowed him to forego the ridiculous fashions that forever occupied the elites.
“President Amalia, you look resplendent. What has you so upset?”
Amalia leveled a finger at him, jabbing it over and over as she spoke. “Don’t fuck with me, Pierson. You got the same report I did about the Streamer Woman. General Yves thinks her ship is still nearby.”
“Yes, he does,” Pierson nodded. “Yves suspects many things, many of which turn out to be wrong, or are not actionable in any useful way. This could well be both.”
“I don’t care, Pierson. You saw the spectrographic analysis, just like I did. That ship was manufactured at Kapteyn’s Star, and it made an FTL jump just hours after the KSS repair ship reached it. If that’s not Golden Age tech, then nothing is.”
Pierson nodded. The president was right about that. The fact that the Streamer ship had made an FTL jump was unprecedented. No other ship that had come out of Kapteyn’s Streamer had ever managed such a feat—that they knew of.
Which made it all the more likely that searching for the ship was a fool’s errand.
“I want you to prepare a plan for how we can take the Midditerra System,” President Amalia said when Pierson didn’t respond. “Those pirates either have the ship, or have clues as to its whereabouts.”
Pierson held back a sigh. “I can contact the other systems that participated in the Omicron—”
“No.” The president’s hand sliced through the air. “No one else. Just us. I don’t plan to share whatever we learn with any other systems. Stars, half of our allies would cut and run as soon as they had the intel.”
Pierson pursed his lips, nodding thoughtfully. He was in agreement with that assessment, which is why he was against the entire venture. “We can’t take the system alone. Not unless we want to leave our own unprotected.”
“Alter the rules of engagement, Admiral. Everyone in Midditerra can be declared an enemy of our state. Stars, if they’re not actively pirating, they’re in league with them, anyway.”
“And all their slaves and indentured workers?”
“Obviously you won’t need to target them, but if they are killed? Well, every war has its casualties.”
Pierson clenched his teeth. It’s easy for President Amalia to say that. She could stay in her opulent offices and dispatch soldiers to kill for her; never seeing the real cost of war, only reaping the benefit of the technology they secured.
Still, one thing was for certain: if the Streamer Woman did have Golden Age tech, there were few worse outcomes than the pirates of the Midditerra System getting their hands on it.
Pierson gave the president a slow nod. “Very well. We’ll put together a modified plan where we do a lightning strike on the Midditerra System. I can have it ready for you—”
“Today, Admiral Pierson. You’ll have it for me today.”
“Of course, President Amalia.”
The holo snapped off, and Admiral Pierson turned and stared out the window, taking deep breaths as he tried to regain his composure.
How many of the men and women under his command would die because of Amalia’s impatience?
Pierson chuckled.
Pierson returned his attention to the scene outside his window, watching as a cruiser, the Ark of Truth, pulled away from the station.
A thousand men and women were on that ship. Soldiers, techs, naval personnel. They had no way of knowing that their ship was now just weeks away from war.
But they would soon.
DEMONSTRATION
STELLAR DATE: 01.29.8512 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Selkirk City
REGION: Canton Selkirk, Persia, Midditerra System
She continued to stand at the window, staring out over the city, until the last canton lord—Derrick of Pellese—sat at the table. Then she turned to survey them.
Including her, they were the eight lords of the Cantons of Persia. And though technically they had no official power in the far reaches of the system, all had many holdings beyond the central world of the Midditerra System.
Only two or three people in the system had power that matched the canton lords, but they were situated in the outer regions of Midditerra—regions Katrina would have to visit soon.
When push came to shove, the canton rulers selected the leader of the Midditerra Defense Force, and that leader—though a power in his or her own right—served at the pleasure of the council.
Until now.
“I’m glad you all came,” Katrina said. “You should be happy I’m here, too—it means I’m not going to call starfire down on this building, like I did on that unfortunate factory.”
No one laughed at her statement, every person wondering if she would actually have destroyed Troan’s tower if she hadn’t come.
Maybe she would have. Yesterday, when speaking with Jordan, she had considered that very thing. But since her conversation with Armis earlier in the day, Katrina had decided that keeping as much of the current power structure in place was in her best interests.
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br /> Provided she could control the key players—though that did not mean every person present would survive the council meeting.
“Honestly, it’s no less than some of you deserve. Most of you sat out the conflict between the Blackadder and the MDF. If I hadn’t stepped in, they would have destroyed one another. Granted, that’s probably what a few of you—” she glanced at Troan “—were hoping for.”
The lord of Canton Selkirk didn’t meet her gaze, and a few more found other things to look at, as well. Armis’s gaze didn’t waver, and Katrina was glad to have a solid ally.
“It is not the place of the cantons to get involved in a dispute between a particular canton and the MDF,” Lady Marion said, her tone unwavering, though she did glance at Lord Wills of Canton Arison.
“I’ve heard this,” Katrina replied. “Historically, you haven’t done it because it’s the right thing to do. You sat out past conflicts for the same reason you did these past few days. You want to wear down whichever canton is at odds with the MDF—maybe the MDF as well—so you can prop up a new ruler.
“Speaking of which, we need a better name than ‘ruler’. Makes me feel like I’m used for measuring things. I’ve been debating ‘Queen’ or ‘Empress’, but I don’t want to be too pretentious, so you can call me ‘Warlord Katrina’. Though I won’t blow up your cities if you only call me ‘Lady Katrina’.”
“I don’t think that’s very funny,” Lord Wills said quietly, his eyes narrowing. “You just killed a hundred people, just to make a point to Troan, here.”
“Eighty-seven,” Katrina corrected him, her tone even. “How many slaves did you sell last week, Lord Wills? How many of the poor in your canton serve as living organ farms for the rich? Or what about when you sabotaged and destroyed Lady Marion’s research facility that was studying the use of neutronium for quantum computers?”
“What the hell?” Marion half rose from her chair, turning to Wills. “That was you?”
Wills shook his head. “I had nothing to do with that. She’s just trying to rile us up. Pit us against one another.”
Katrina rested her elbows on the table and leant forward. “I know everything Lara knew. I also have all of Jace and Malorie’s intelligence. Good thing for the rest of you that they didn’t get along; between the three of them, they have serious dirt on each and every one of you. Tell them, Malorie.”
Katrina picked up Malorie’s case and set it on the table. There was a brief pause, but then Malorie spoke, her voice emanating from the braincase.
“It’s true, she has stripped a lot of information from our minds. Lara’s too. I suppose knowing that some of you are going to suffer mightily is a small silver lining for what’s become of me.”
“Shit,” Lady Marion whispered. “Mal?”
“Yeah, Marion, you dimwitted fool. It’s me, Malorie. You know what I know about you, so you should probably just shut your mouth and—no, actually, be your usual self. I’d like to see you in a braincase next to me.”
Malorie’s voice dripped with venom, yet sounded gleeful at the mention of Marion suffering.
Marion’s mouth snapped shut, but her eyes were wide and staring. Katrina noticed that Wills was smiling as he regarded Malorie’s brain case, but the rest of the council members glanced at one another, expressions of worry lining their faces.
“So, Lord Wills.” Katrina stared the man down. “Shall we look at the evidence that says you were behind the attack on Marion’s facility?”
“I sure would like to,” Marion said quietly, worry over a misstep losing to the desire for vengeance.
“Don’t be so hasty,” Katrina turned to Marion. “You’re not blameless. Why, just a few—”
“OK!” Marion held up her hands. “We get the picture.”
“Pity,” Lord Derrick grinned at Marion. “I was at least curious to know how long ago Wills had taken out your facility. A few misfortunes have befallen me of late that I’d like to know about, as well.”
“I didn’t—” Wills began, but Katrina cut him off.
“You did. I have the evidence, and I think I’ll turn it over to Marion later…or maybe I’ll just tax you on what I expect your ventures will make, with her facility out of the way.”
“You’re ascendency is quite the misfortune in and of itself, Lady Katrina,” Wills muttered.
“Well, you’re going to meet some more,” Katrina replied. She decided to push Wills further before she taught him a lesson. “I want each of you to turn twenty-five ships over to me. The MDF needs to be as powerful as half the cantons, and after the battles with Jace’s loyalist ships, we’re out of balance.”
“That ratio is not meant to be a minimum requirement,” Lady Jeshis of Canton Ulma blurted out, then clamped her mouth shut.
“Where are your manners?” Katrina asked.
“Um, I’m sorry.”
Katrina held out her hand, palm up. “I’m sorry….”
“Warlord Katrina,” Lady Jeshis said quickly.
“Mark my words.” Katrina rose from her chair and paced along the length of the room. “With this recent unrest, we are a ripe target. Midditerra must strengthen its borders, and its resolve. I want all of your military leadership to send top-ranking liaisons to Farsa Station. We must form a unified front to ensure that our sovereignty is not undermined.”
“We already have liaisons on Farsa, Lady Katrina,” Lord Derrick explained. “What do you mean by ‘top-ranking’?”
“I mean I want colonels or generals,” Katrina replied. “Some of you have sent the lowest ranking officers you can. Others have sent spies. Plus, several of your liaisons fled Farsa during the fighting—not that I blame them.”
Katrina turned and saw Lord Wills shooting daggers at her with his eyes, his fists clenching and unclenching.
“You don’t like me, do you, Wills?”
“No,” he breathed the response.
“Why not? I stopped the fighting between the MDF and the Adders. I’m protecting this system.”
Katrina could see that the other lords and ladies were paying rapt attention to Wills. Several of them wore expressions of support, though most were schooled to be blank.
“You named yourself the ruler of Midditerra. That is not your place. The council—”
“In all fairness,” Katrina interrupted, a smirk on her lips, “I named myself Warlord.”
“Don’t play your stupid semantics game with me,” Lord Wills shot back. “You don’t intimidate me.”
Katrina glanced at Korin, who stood by the door, scowling at Wills. “Korin, stand down.” She returned her gaze to Lord Wills. “Well then, kill me. Take control of the Midditerra System for yourself. It’s what you want.”
Wills didn’t reply as he rose and walked toward her, his gaze sliding up and down her body.
“A test of arms or strength?” he asked.
“Whichever you prefer,” Katrina replied.
“Strength, then,” Wills said, and nodded to the pistols on Katrina’s hips.
“Korin,” Katrina said with a nod to the man. He approached as she took off her jacket, unbelted her holsters, and handed them over.
“You’d fight me in armor, while I have none?” Wills asked.
“For starters, it doesn’t come off,” Katrina replied. “Additionally, you’re not an honorable man, so what do you care?
“You’re right,” Wills snarled, and a lightwand suddenly appeared in his hand as he lunged at Katrina.
She dodged the strike, Wills’ glowing electron-blade stopping centimeters from her left cheek. He attempted to flick his wrist and slash the blade across her face, but Katrina slammed the heel of her hand into his wrist.
Wills’ arm swung wide, but he held onto the electron blade.
“You’re fast, Katrina,” he whispered. “But it won’t be enough.”
He attacked again, slashing in short, controlled strikes, forcing Katrina to backpedal until she was only a meter from the clear wall of the oval room.
> Wills lunged at her again, this time aiming for her chest.
Katrina twisted to the left, his electron blade passing between her chest and right arm, which she clamped together while driving the heel of her left hand into his nose, the hard steel smashing cartilage and bone.
Wills cried out and tried to fall back, but she held his arm fast. He tugged twice, and then she drove a knee into his groin, finally hearing the electron blade fall from his grip.
She released her hold on his arm and turned to find the blade still active, buried to the hilt in the clear floor.
Katrina dropped a thread of nano onto it, checking for a biolock failsafe—there was one—and disabling it before she picked up the lightwand.
“Turnabout is fair play, right?” She glanced at the other lords and ladies to see expressions of concern on their faces.
All except for Marion, who smirked at Wills as he knelt on the floor, one hand between his legs, and the other on his face.
Armis shrugged. “He brought this on himself. Wills’ reach always did exceed his grasp.”
Lord Wills struggled to his feet and brought his hands up, ready to reengage, even as blood poured from his nose, and tears streamed from his eyes.
“Good, Wills.” Katrina nodded in satisfaction. “You’ll at least die a little more honorably than you lived.”
Wills cried out and threw a punch that Katrina knocked aside. He twisted and kicked at her waist, but she saw the move coming and pivoted, delivering her own kick into the knee of the leg he was standing on.
The bone cracked, and Wills screamed as he collapsed.
Katrina wasted no further time. She lunged forward, landing on his chest with her left knee, cracking his ribs, before slamming the lightwand into the side of his head.
She stood to survey her kill.
Wills’ body convulsed like a flag in a hurricane for over twenty seconds, as smoke poured from his head, the smell of burning brains, skin, and hair filling the room.
Katrina watched expressions ranging from horror, to morbid curiosity, to glee—in Lady Marion’s case—cross the faces of the council members.
Finally, she knelt at Wills’ side and pulled the lightwand free.