[05] Elite: Reclamation (38 page)

‘Have you heard from Dalk?’

Cuthrick shrugged. ‘Alas, Patron Dalk appears to have failed in his mission. We can only assume the girl is lost to us, thus we will have to negotiate harder with the Federation from an inferior position. Fear not, patrons. We will reclaim Chione. The Federation only wants access to resources. We will negotiate a truce. It will present some legal difficulty, but another Senator will be encouraged to adopt this troublesome system and you can henceforth alter your allegiance with no loss of prestige. Your skills and knowledge will no doubt be a key asset.’

‘The rebels … these vulgar Reclamists?’ Zyair asked.

‘They will be … resettled,’ Cuthrick said. ‘One of the key points of negotiation. We will have to repair the damage they have inflicted. We will offer to do this, in exchange for ownership and leave the rebels to Federation jurisdiction and law. They encouraged them, it will be their problem to manage. The fleets will disband and we can all return to a semblance of normality.’

‘Disband the fleet you say?’

The three dignitaries looked up as another man approached, striding purposefully to them with no preamble or further acknowledgement. Grey haired, with an erect military bearing, his uniform, ornately festooned with rank and decoration, immediately gave him away.

‘Fleet Admiral Brice,’ Cuthrick acknowledged, with an incline of his head.

Gerrun and Zyair bowed. The two silent aides almost prostrated themselves.

‘The fleet will not disband, we have orders.’

Cuthrick raised his head very slightly.

‘Orders, Fleet Admiral?’ he inquired, a trace of confusion in his voice. ‘Perhaps I misunderstand military protocol. I was under the impression that only I had the appropriate jurisdiction …’

‘I answer first to the Loren family,’ Brice replied. ‘I served the Senator …’

‘The Senator is dead,’ Zyair said, before quickly continuing. ‘Most distressing of course. His family too, may their glorious memories never fade …’

Brice interrupted with an air of smug assurance. ‘Not entirely accurate.’

Zyair looked at Gerrun, who quickly shook his head.

‘I’m afraid I don’t understand,’ Cuthrick said.

‘Orders. In the name of the Senator.’ Brice gestured and a portable holofac transmitter flared into life.

Zyair’s eyes widened as he recognised the subject of the recording. ‘His daughter …’

The young woman was unmistakeable. The Imperials watched; Admiral Brice with smug satisfaction, the Patrons and the ambassador with horror and dismay.

‘Fellow citizens of the Empire. I am Lady Kahina Tijani Loren …’

The recording played out, much to Cuthrick, Gerrun and Zyair’s alarm.

‘Are you sure it’s really her?’ Cuthrick asked.

‘Bio-trace came along with the transmission,’ Brice answered. ‘The Federation are trying to deny it of course …’

‘You can’t be thinking of carrying this out?’ Zyair said, breaking the shocked silence.

Brice smiled. ‘I am a loyal servant of the Senator and his family. I swore a vow of allegiance to the Loren dynasty. I will not break it now, like others have done.’

He looked at Gerrun and Zyair, who refused to meet his gaze.

‘Most honourable indeed,’ Cuthrick said, ‘But the wider consequences, we risk …’

Brice turned on him. ‘They murdered my Senator. They have treated a lady of the Empire with disgrace. Look at her, wretched and dishevelled. I will not live to see her dishonoured, not on my watch. I will scatter these Reclamists to the ends of space and restore the family I serve to its rightful place. In the Emperor’s glorious name!’

‘We risk a war, man!’

Brice spun around, his voice cold and threatening.

‘And if anyone attempts to stop me, Federation or otherwise ...’ Brice looked at each of them in turn. ‘I will destroy them too.’

Brice turned away and hit a nearby intercom.

‘Bridge, this is the admiral. Set condition prime throughout the ship. No further external comms, bring all ships and weapons to a state of full readiness. We jump to the Prism system within the hour ...’

‘Aye sir,’ came the immediate response.

‘Fleet Admiral, no …’ Cuthrick moved towards him.

Brice ignored the remonstration and talked into the intercom, a satisfied smile on his face.

‘You have your orders.’

He punched the intercom off and strode away without a backward glance.

***

Deep in the Prism system Daedalion continued moving in its orbit as it had for aeons uncounted, as it would continue to do long after current events were lost in the depths of time. Its shadow eclipsed the warm moon of Chione, casting a chill across the Imperial Palace on the island of New Ithaca.

Vargo, the leader of the Reclamists, watched as the stars sprang into the sky, his expression dour and unmoved despite the spectacular display of celestial mechanics that graced the moon every single day. He wasn’t looking at the backdrop, but at a heavily muscled man before him who had just stepped out of a transport that had landed in the gardens of the palace.

The man’s face was flushed, though whether from exertion or anger was impossible to tell.

‘Mitchell?’ Vargo queried.

‘Had to come in person,’ Mitchell said. ‘Revolt.’

‘Put them down,’ Vargo said dismissively. ‘They are only Imperial minions. Just deal …’

‘We’ve tried that. Hundreds were slain, thousands … but they won’t stop. The mines are overrun, the transports aren’t running … they just keep chanting.’

Vargo frowned. ‘Chanting? Chanting what?’

Mitchell held out a holofac. It illuminated with a hologram of a surging crowd, waving ragged clothing and angrily pushing forwards past the recorder. They were shouting something, but the meaning was unclear, a name perhaps.

‘What?’ Vargo yelled.

Mitchell altered the holofac to play a different recording.

‘This came through two hours ago, it was wideband, all the major newsfeeds are covering it. Everyone has seen it. It’s her … she’s coming back.’

Vargo stared. It was a woman, dressed in a simple gown, addressing the recorder directly …

… a woman he’d seen killed.

Executed in front of my eyes!

Run through with a sword; her eyes glazing over; blood.

She was dead … so how?

He listened intently as she spoke, rage clenching his hands into fists.

‘The bitch … how? Dalk … double-crossed us …’ Vargo staggered back against the threshold of the palace, seeing his plans crumple into dust.

‘Federation and Imperial fleets are already coming. They’re going to blockade the system within hours. It’s war.’

Vargo raised his head, determination setting his eyes ablaze.

‘Call in everyone, abandon the mines, torch it all. Then get back here with everything we have. She wants her moon back? There’ll be nothing worth saving when I’m finished with it.’

Around them the light brightened sharply. Chione moved out of the shadow of Daedalion, the stars and darkness were banished. Another day had begun.

***

Hassan, limping and supported by Dalk, was roughly ushered onto the bridge of Octavia’s
Anaconda
. Octavia was already there. As she saw them she strode across aggressively.

‘Perhaps you trained your girl too well, Patron Dalk,’ she sneered. ‘Your protégé has taken matters into her own hands.’

Dalk frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

Octavia threw a holofac transceiver to him.

‘I can’t do justice to it myself. She can explain, in her own words.’

Hassan looked confused. ‘You’ve found her?’

Octavia looked furiously at him. ‘No, foolish boy, I have not found her! She has made herself known. We received a sector wide transmission. It’s on the damn news!’

Dalk thumbed the holofac and an image formed. It was Kahina, dressed in a simple but elegant gown, standing on the bridge of some vessel. He could make out a half-healed cut on her forehead. She looked bruised and battered, but there was no mistaking her determination. The ship behind her wasn’t Hassan’s Eagle, it was something bigger.

She’s regained her memory! But without tutoring, without guidance … No Kahina! Don’t …

The holofac played. Kahina spoke to the recorder in measured tones to start with, factual and to the point.

 ‘Fellow citizens of the Empire. I am Lady Kahina Tijani Loren. I am the daughter of Senator Algreb Loren of Chione, late of the Prism system. My father, along with the rest of my family, was first betrayed and then brutally murdered by revolutionaries calling themselves “Reclamists”. They are slyly backed by the Federation. My home has fallen into their clutches and is beset by pirates and the uncouth. These contemptible revolutionaries sought to kill me too, but I have eluded them. It was reported I too had been killed, yet I am alive; they have failed in their ambition.

‘Chione belonged to my father by Imperial decree. It was an outpost of the Empire, wrenched from our grasp by the Federation dogs. The occupation is both unlawful and repulsive. With my father’s death, rights fall to me, his only living heir. I have been intolerably wronged.

‘I will reclaim my world, taken from me by force. I return now to the Empire. I ask you to help me, assist me in defending my honour from those who have no respect for the glory of our grand Imperium. Let me restore what was taken.’

Kahina’s voice rose in volume and tempo. Her eyes flashed with anger and zeal.

‘I will not be stopped, I will not be slowed. I will take vengeance for the death of my father, a faithful son of the Empire. Together we can restore Chione to Imperial grandeur, frustrating those who would plot against me. I would have these Reclamists brought low. Stand with me, rise up and defend me.

‘I am Lady Kahina Tijani Loren of Chione. By my express command this galactic date I require the armies loyal to my father, duty bound by honour and oaths of loyalty to the Loren family, commanded by Fleet Admiral Brice Laurval … to invade and hold the Prism system for my pleasure. I will return!’

The holofac faded and shut itself down.

Hassan and Dalk exchanged a horrified glance, before both looking towards Octavia.

She stood stock still, staring at the silent holofac before turning to face the two men, her mouth twisted venomously.

‘We go to find her now. Pray for success, gentlemen.’ She straightened, pointing a trembling finger towards them both. ‘You understand the cost of failure.’

***

Tenim viewed the latest holofac comunique with dismay.

‘Trouble?’ Jenu asked, watching the expression on his face.

‘Events, my dear. Events.’ Tenim sighed deeply. ‘Vargo has lost control of the moon. The slaves have overrun the Reclamist movement. They’ve even seized the space station …’

‘
Hiram’s Anchorage
,’ Jenu added.

Tenim nodded. ‘I fear that his little insurgency is at an end. Vargo and his cronies are holed up in the Imperial Palace awaiting their fate.’

‘Then we’ve lost?’

Tenim smiled. ‘A setback, no more. Vargo and his foolish ideas of revolution were never more than an aside. It is the Loren girl that concerns us now. If she successfully returns to the Prism system we will be at a serious disadvantage. Cuthrick will be insufferable.’

‘How are we going to stop her? Nobody even knows where she is.’

‘We know where she was when she made her transmission and we know where she is headed. I’d imagine that a talented bounty hunter would have little trouble tracking her down.’ Tenim paused. ‘Should such a ghastly thing be arranged, of course.’

Jenu raised her eyebrows and gave Tenim a knowing look.

The
Bella Principessa
slipped its orbital berth above the planet and began to manoeuvre for the hyperspace jump point. Serviced, refuelled and checked over by technicians it had been restored to full operation. Kahina had fretted a little at the delay, but Luko had informed her that travelling through the systems between their current location and the Empire meant traversing some dangerous parts of space. Most of the worlds hereabout were independent systems; law enforcement was patchy and occasionally non-existent. Flying through with an undependable ship was not recommended.

Twenty years of standing in a damp cavern hadn’t done the on-board systems much good. Three energy conduits had been replaced, along with the induction coils for the forward weapons. A myriad of other components had been adjusted and checked. Luko had looked longingly at some new drive system upgrades that were on offer, but that would have taken days to install. Kahina had refused point blank.

Kahina watched the other ships come and go around them. It was busier now, traffic seemed to have increased in the few short hours they’d stopped over at the small station. There was a bewildering array of vessels. She spotted a familiar looking Eagle amongst the mix, but the others were unfamiliar, their blocky and angular lines looking gauche and coarse to her Imperial aesthetic taste.

Luko pointed out some of the interesting ones.

‘Type 7 Freighter,’ he gestured. ‘Slow, ugly as my fat aunt, but if you want stuff moved cheap – nothing better. Sidewinders in the escort too. Nasty little ships, punch above their weight. Always they fly in packs. Watch out for them.’

Kahina watched the formation drift past, wondering where they were going.

‘Now …’ Luko said appraisingly, ‘this more like it. See that? Is a Vulture.’

Another ship cruised past. It was squat and sharply pointed like an arrowhead, with four flanged wing extensions. It looked purposeful and tough. Kahina saw the holofac overlay identify it as the
Raeben
.

‘Always flown by folks with bad tempers,’ Luko said. ‘Pilots always frowning, never smile. Pretty good in a fight, not sharp in turns so they say.’

‘Have you fought one?’ Kahina asked.

Luko smiled. ‘Not yet. Would be a good match for the
Bella Principessa
.’ He patted the console ahead of him. ‘Cobra is faster, but armour … not so much. Would be an interesting fight.’