Last of the Immortals (The Jessica Keller Chronicles Book 3) (14 page)

“I said important, Tom,” came the call back. “Lady wants to talk to you. Very persuasive.”

He glanced automatically at the boards but they were blank.

The only important woman in his life right now was still at least two days out from saving his ass.

Oh, what the hell
.

“Put her through.”

If Lam thought it was important, and didn’t want to spoil the surprise, he could at least play along for a bit.

The screen lit up.

The woman/girl had blond hair with bangs.

She was young. That was his first impression.

Not quite young enough to be his daughter, but she had that air of young womanhood that they didn’t generally lose until after college. Academy girls never had it in the first place, but they didn’t count.

The eyes weren’t young.

Bright blue. Rich in color, and absolutely stunning. Intelligent. Perceptive. Ancient.

Not his type.

She was in a uniform of some sort, but not one he knew.

“Command Centurion Tomas Kigali,” he said merrily, by way of introduction. “And you are?”

“My name is Suvi, Command Centurion Kigali,” she said simply.

Even the voice couldn’t decide if it was a young woman or an old one.

His brain finally caught up with the rest of him.

Oh
.

Yeah. That made sense. She was, as far as he knew, the Last of the Immortals
.

“Oh. What can I do for you, madam?”

“Please initiate a secured channel using Fleet encryption set number eight, Centurion,” she said.

The words sounded like they weighed a ton each, so she had to have been a fleet officer at some point in her eternity. That would help.

Kigali keyed the system live, rotated through sets to find the one he wanted, and locked it in. Right now, even the people on the gun deck couldn’t read this conversation, to say nothing of the rest of the system.

Of course, Lam could always climb a deck to listen. It wasn’t like Kigali was a pissy little shit about that sort of thing, like First Fleet Lord Loncar, when it came to that kind of crap.

The screen acquired a red border.

“Go ahead, Suvi,” he said.

“I have a saboteur inside my station, Kigali,” she began, her tones weighed down with the seriousness that Jessica Keller also got when she was in the zone. “Governor Ezardyonic’s office has been singularly unresponsive to my requests for more information. However, with the declaration of martial law, he is no longer in charge right now. You are, Command Centurion. What has happened?”

Kigali looked at the screen, trying to imagine what it would be like to live forever. To remember
The
Times Before
. To know you were going to outlive every single person you knew.

Correction, assuming the Red Admiral didn’t get to her before Jessica could stop him.

Oh, what the hell. She was going to find out shortly anyway. Best that she have time to plan
.

“The
Fribourg Empire
is going to attack you in the very near future. It will be the Imperial battleship
Amsel
, the Blackbird, commanded by Admiral Emmerich Wachturm, the best they have. I don’t know when he’ll get here. Jessica Keller is scheduled to be here in about two days with a Republic squadron. We’re going to try to stop him.”

“Jessica Keller commands the Republic Strike Carrier
Auberon
,” Suvi replied. “What else is she bringing?”

“The battlecruiser
Stralsund
, destroyer leader
Brightoak
, heavy destroyer
Rajput
, and me. Oh, and Moirrey Kermode.”

“I’m not familiar with that person.”

“She’s the reason we beat the Red Admiral at
2218 Svati Prime
and
Qui–Ping
. She’s the reason we beat the pirates at
Petron
. Hopefully, she’ll have enough
Mischief
left in the tank to save our butts at
Ballard
.”

“
Mischief
, Centurion Kigali?

Apparently, Suvi had picked up his emphasis on the word. But, hey, he was in charge. He could deputize her. After all, she was the reason this was all happening in the first place. How many people got to have the Red Admiral gunning for them?

Two. Well, three counting Suvi, but he was betting his life these women would survive.

“She’s Keller’s genius Weapons Tech, Suvi,” he replied. “Better bombs, bigger tricks, shifty surprises. Jessica calls her the evil engineering gnome.”

“This station is entirely unarmed, Kigali.”

She sounded like she was lecturing him now. Probably not far from the truth. He didn’t do serious very often, or for very long. Not unless there were planetary governors involved.

That was a different story.

“Maybe Moirrey can cook something up,” he said. “Won’t know until she gets here.”

“Also, with the loss of my primary communications antenna array, I am trapped here.”

“Really?”

None of the late–night campy thriller videos he watched covered that point. The AI’s were always able to escape the good guys by downloading themselves into a pocket comm or something so they could get away for the next movie.

“The information I store, my memories, if you will, is backed up extensively and redundantly. However, the programming that makes up my cognition matrix, my personality if you will, is too complex to be updated to any single point of storage, with the equipment at hand, in anything less than eight days. Unless you can keep this so–called Red Admiral at bay for that long, I am effectively trapped aboard this station, as I said, with a saboteur who is probably intent on finishing the job.”

Kigali felt his face turn sour. He really couldn’t wait for Jessica to get here. Until then, the best he could do was bust his ass figuring out how to get her everything she needed.

Wait, he was the guy in charge now. Even that idiot governor had to listen to him, and Ariojhutti could send engineers over to help.

Kigali smiled at Suvi.

“Leave that to me.”

Chapter XXIII

Date of the Republic June 7, 394 Ladaux

Tadej considered the woman standing in the doorway, a look of obvious concern on her face. She was one of his newer aides, a well–connected youngster, fresh out of university, still settling in on his staff.

“Yes, Stacia?” he said warmly.

She looked like she expected to lose fingers for what she was about to say. It must be good. Of course, he was currently on the comm with the President of the Republic, but they were making lunch plans, not discussing trade negotiations.

“A fleet centurion is here to see you, Premier,” she began carefully, her ebony–brown skin not showing much blush, but it was there in the set of her shoulders and the size of her pupils. “He does not have an appointment, will not say why he is here, and used a codeword indicating it was a priority at the highest level of the Republic.”

“Calina,” Tadej said into the comm. “I’ll call you back in a bit, if that would okay. Something has just come up.”

He listened, nodded, and placed the device in its cradle.

“A centurion, you say?” he asked her.

“Yes, sir. Centurion Kamil Miloslav.”

Oh, my. Kasum’s personal aide? The cat’s been away for one whole day and the mice are already storming the Bastille
?

“Send him in, Stacia,” Tadej decided. “Then clear the next two hours from my calendar and have everyone stand by. In fact, have the commissary send boxed lunches in for everyone and put it on the Navy’s account.”

“Yes, sir,” she sighed, obviously relieved to have guessed right. Or at least to have escaped the Premier’s wrath.

Kamil entered carrying a large briefcase that was obviously heavy. He rested it by the side of the desk and came to attention.

“Thank you for seeing me so quickly, Premier,” he said.

Tadej eyes the man’s nervousness.

“Sit,” he commanded peremptorily. “Boil it down as much as you can. I’ll assume the paperwork will back it up.”

Tadej softened his scowl with a smile. There were certainly any number of alternatives Kamil could have exercised before coming here. That did not bode well.

Kamil sat, flipped open the briefcase anyway, and pulled out a small folder that he sat on the table.

“With First Lord Kasum indisposed, Second Lord can handle most administrative tasks, as she has in the past,” he began. “The First Lord long ago tasked me to pay attention to certain activities and personages, and to do some outside the normal channels.”

“I see,” Tadej responded, having drawn that conclusion already. “Who is misbehaving, in his absence?”

Tadej was rewarded with a small smile on an otherwise tight face.

“The usual suspects,” he said. “If one could draw that conclusion. Tennerick, Tomčič, and possibly Loncar, if I translate the intelligence reports and the political winds correctly. There is a great deal of ambiguity to the reports, but something just doesn’t feel right.”

Tadej felt his eyebrows go up in spite of his seriousness.

“Go on,” he prompted Kamil.

“Sir, the Senate
Select Committee for the Fleet of The Republic of Aquitaine
is having a hearing on the
State of Current Affairs
this afternoon. First Fleet Lord Loncar was added as a surprise witness at the very last minute, after First Lord’s announced departure. At the same time, there have been whispers reported by fleet intelligence implying a belief in some social circles that the First Lord is culpable for the impending attack on
Ballard
, and that Centurion Keller is personally responsible. They have not been polite or friendly rumors, from what I have been told.”

“And, of course,” Tadej finished the thought, “Nils took
Athena
out to try to salvage the situation, and they’re going to gang up on him while he cannot defend himself.”

“That is the assessment I drew first thing this morning.”

Kamil tapped the folder and slid across the table.

“There are more details here, sir,” Kamil concluded, “but I’m a fleet officer and not a political expert. First Lord’s instructions were to go to the top, if I had any doubt. I have doubts.”

Tadej flipped open the folder instead of replying and quickly scanned the executive summary.

Oh ho. Really? I wonder just how much money Loncar and his friends must have lost. Of course, this will play well with the Noble Lords, and certainly piss off the Fighting Lords. And this is not a spur of the moment thing, either. This shows a lot of planning and forethought. I smell Brand’s hand in this
.

He flipped into the meat of the document and quickly consumed chunks while Kamil waited patiently. Finally, he reached the end and settled back into his chair.

“You have very good instincts, Kamil,” he said. “When you decide you are done with being in uniform, make sure I get your resume first, okay?”

Kamil flushed.

“Aye, sir,” he said. “But I think you might have to argue with Senator Kasum.”

“I outrank Nils’ brother,” Tadej said with a smile. “Now, leave your materials here and consider your work done and your activities proper and well–handled. I’ll let my people get messy with it. You will be protected from any fallout.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Tadej re–read the document after Kasum’s right hand departed.

The cat is away and the rats wasted little time. No, this was worse than that. This was a full–bore insurrection, aimed not just at Nils, but at the entire government. This was knives in the darkness maneuvering
.

He picked up his comm again and quickly dialed a number.

“Madame President,” he said as levelly as she answered. “Do you have anything interesting planned for lunch?”

Chapter XXIV

Imperial Founding: 172/06/15. 5787 Piscium System

5787 Piscium had been chosen as a rendezvous because it was close to the target system, but, also, more importantly, because there were no habitable worlds here and very little reason for a colony of any kind, even a scientific one.

Nobody to intrude.

It was a hot, young star, circled by a pair of gas giants close enough in that no useful, rocky worlds had formed. Or rather, none that had survived the planet–forming phase. At a distance of around five AU, the cleared space ended and the system was a mess of scattered rocks, shattered remnants of worlds that might have been.

IFV Amsel
slid into realspace with all the grand dignity of one of the great whales from the lost Homeworld. Perhaps one of the modern descendants that had been brought to a variety of colonies during the first great exploring phase of humanity.

Calm, quiet, majestic.

The flag bridge on the battleship was anything but. They were deep in the guts of the
Republic of Aquitaine
now. Far deeper than any raid had even considered in more than a century.

Anything could happen.

Every weapons system was unlocked and prepared to unleash biblical mayhem. Firing solutions were roughed out, target sectors had been assigned, and the primary crews were in place.

Emmerich was at his usual station, standing beside the giant projector with his flag captain and command staff attending him. Around the outer wall of the flag bridge were the men who made the squadron operate.

“Contact,” a man’s voice sang out calmly across the otherwise–quiet flag bridge. “I have three targets in range.”

“All systems stand by to engage hostiles,” Emmerich called in his stentorian voice.

It was mostly redundant, given the crew. These men were among the best the
Fribourg Empire
had, trained to a very high degree of excellence. Still, he was in command. It befit him to remind them occasionally.

“Sensors,” another voice called back, this one a baritone. “Identification confirmed on
IFV Petrograd
and the frigates
Baasch
and
Kappel
. No other vessels within range.”