Last of the Immortals (The Jessica Keller Chronicles Book 3) (2 page)

“
Aquitaine
was founded by Henri Baudin, the man who practically re–invented modern starflight,” Em said, his voice shifting into professorial mode. “”He studied at
Ballard
, learned from
her
.”

“Her, Uncle?” Ekke said quietly.

“The AI, the
Sentience
, the demon who runs the University of Ballard. She presents as a young woman, not much older than your cousin Heike, Prince,” Emmerich said seriously to his student, his cousin, his future Emperor. “She is a black widow spider, intent on her prey. She is Eve, offering the apple and damnation. But more importantly, she is one of the Archstones to the Founding of
Aquitaine
. If we destroy her, we strike at the very base of
Aquitaine
’s own legends. As the Great Marshal once said, the morale is three to one to the material.”

Johannes leaned back to consider his response.

“So destroying
Alexandria Station
above
Ballard
would affect the Republic in a manner similar to a Republic fleet suddenly appearing above
2218 Svati Prime
and dropping a bomb?”

“I believe so, yes,” Emmerich said quietly with a shudder.

Jessica Keller and her Strike Carrier
Auberon
had caused no end of panic with the surprise attack on
2218 Svati Prime
, even after it was revealed to be no more than a series of pranks. People were angry. That a woman did it just compounded the rage in certain Imperial circles.

Johannes could see Em’s mad energy beginning to ebb. That was good, considering what he had to do next.

“And the second part of your plan, Em? Do you trust that the Republic spies here on
St. Legier
are good enough to lure her to her own doom?”

The fire was back in those eyes. A mad, hot, nigh–biblical fire.

“I have been following her track as well as I could from our own spies, Joh,” Em said. “If we leak the information in the next two days, a courier could return it to Nils Kasum at
Ladaux
, just about the same time she arrives home from
Lincolnshire
. He’ll send her to stop me. After all, she’d beaten me three times now, according to their scoring system.”

“And if he doesn’t? Or she doesn’t arrive in time?”

Johannes watched Em tap the table with a demonic syncopation as he spoke.

“Then I will destroy the station, and the succubus who inhabits it,” he said fiercely. “And then I will make sure she cannot escape me by hiding below.”

“You may not,” the Emperor replied hotly, angrily, “bomb a civilian world, in my name or any other. Is that clear, Em?”

“Perfectly, your Majesty,” Em nodded, all serious now. “I cannot imagine we would have to strike more than one or two places. The AIs, those ever–superior
Immortals
, are not smart enough, or paranoid enough, to truly protect themselves from an agent of vengeance like my battleship
Amsel
, the Blackbird.”

“What about Nils Kasum,
Aquitaine
’s First Lord, Uncle?” Ekke asked, showing the depth and breadth of his studies. “Will he strip
Ladaux
of enough ships and firepower to stop you? Destroy you, so far from home?”

“He dare not,” the Red Admiral replied, calming some. “He cannot know if this is a feint designed to lure him away from
Ladaux
just in time for me to swoop in. He does not have enough margin of ships to play with, to even send help to
Ballard
, beyond the woman and her squadron of misfits.”

“And Jessica Keller?” the
Emperor of Fribourg
asked solemnly.

“If I am right, your Majesty, I will catch her at
Ballard
,” Emmerich Wachturm, The Red Admiral, promised, “and I will destroy her.”

Overture: Emmerich

Imperial Founding: 172/05/21. Prime Base, St. Legier

Today was a day for dress uniforms, so Emmerich Wachturm had pulled out the one he normally wore for ceremonies the Emperor would attend. Karl Johannes Arend Wiegand would not be present today, since that would present far too much opportunity for spies to find out too much, too soon. But Emmerich had treated the day as such anyway.

What he was about to do was a serious thing. The kind of event that history books and doctoral theses covered.

Best to do it right.

His battleship,
IFV Amsel
, the Blackbird, had finally been repaired from the damage Jessica Keller did to it at
Qui–Ping
, along with taking time in dry–dock to do a long–term service extension that would keep the vessel at the tip of the spear for another twenty years.

She was ready for war again.

Emmerich looked around the Primary Conference Room at the men attending him. Captain Otto Scheinberg, commander of the battlecruiser
Petrograd
was brand new to the squadron, although he had served as a First Officer on
Muscva
years ago, back before she was destroyed at
Qui–Ping
. Yet another thing to lay at Jessica Keller’s feet.

At the other end of the scale, flag captain Hendrik Baumgärtner had been his personal aide for nearly twenty years, a trusted and valued friend.

In between, Captain Sundén from the light cruiser
SturmTeufel
had been with him for just over five years now, while the captains of the frigates tended to be either promoted regularly to larger vessels, or broken by the cauldron of service with the dreaded Red Admiral. Still, it was possibly the best Task Force the
Fribourg Empire
had in the field.

He would need that, where he was about to go.

“Gentlemen,” he said, bringing all of his seriousness to his voice. Even the ensigns and lieutenants around the outer wall came to closer attention at his words. “We are about to launch an assault on a Republic world that has never, to the best of my knowledge, seen war.”

Emmerich nodded at Captain Baumgärtner. His aide pressed a button and a new projection sprang into the space above the table.

“This is the planet
Ballard
,” the Red Admiral continued. “The planet itself is not our primary target, and may end up being entirely ignored while we are in–system. That will depend on how things unfold after we arrive.”

He paused to take the measure of each man around the great table before he spoke again. The faces were hard. These were serious men. Had he announced an assault on Hell itself, they would probably look no different. He certainly wouldn’t.

“We are going there to destroy this,” he pointed at the smaller sphere in orbit. “
Alexandria Station
. Home of the last
Sentience
in known space. Protected by the
Republic of Aquitaine
because of a sentimental attachment to their own Founder, Henri Baudin. Gentlemen, we are going to kill her.”

He watched the men bristle at the words.
Sentience
.
Aquitaine
.
Her
. Words primed to infuriate their subconscious. Drive them. The root of all evil in the galaxy.

Captain Scheinberg spoke first. “I seem to recall this is a fairly back–water system, admiral,” he said. “Do they have any notable defenses?”

“None worth mentioning, Captain,” Emmerich replied. “A squadron of local fighter craft, perhaps a few patrol boats.”

The captain nodded, confusion written on his features. “And we need an entire Task Force to attack it, sir?”

Emmerich leaned closer, drawing those men into a tighter orbit.

“This does not leave the table, gentlemen, until we break orbit and insert into Jumpspace,” he said with his greatest gravity. “
Aquitaine
spies will be fed information about our impending assault. Nils Kasum will have just barely enough time to react. The only force he has available will be sent to stop us. We will mousetrap that force and annihilate it.”

Captain Sundén spoke up. “Do we know the composition of that force, Admiral?”

“An older strike carrier,” Emmerich replied. “Plus her consorts: two destroyers and a frigate. Possibly one other vessel, although internal war–gaming at the Palace was mixed in predicting who and what. Nils Kasum cannot strip his Home Fleet of forces to send without a risk that we’ll attack
Ladaux
instead.”

Emmerich waited for the men to nod. These were professionals at the peak of their careers, serving with the best tactician in the
Fribourg Empire.

“The enemy commander, gentlemen,” he continued, “is Jessica Keller.”

These captains were far too sophisticated to actually growl in anger, but he could see it in their eyes.

Yes, they all had scores to settle with that woman, as well.

PART I: LADAUX

Chapter I

Date of the Republic May 28, 394 Fleet HQ, Ladaux System

It felt odd to be seated in the audience today. Normally, Jessica would be up on that stage, probably at the center of the ceremony. It was one of her crew, after all, being honored.

But today, she had put her foot down. Command Centurion Jessica Keller would
not
be up there with the rest, where her presence might be a distraction, however small that chance might be.

After consideration, and a few tart observations on her part, the fine folks on the station had acquiesced. They’d also decided to use the big amphitheater for today’s ceremony and to let her sit in the audience. Probably something to do with her threat to send as much of
Auberon’s
crew as she could spare, in their best uniforms, to attend. Or rather, to grant passes to as many people as asked, which might well be all of them.

She wouldn’t have to order anyone to be here.

If anything, she would have had to pick which of her crew would be ordered to miss this ceremony, to stay aboard
Auberon
, as well as
Rajput
and
CR–264
, in order to keep the reactors behaving and the life support systems purring quietly.

In the end, her old command,
Brightoak
, had volunteered to send over enough engineers and crew to let the rest of the squadron come.
Brightoak’s
leader, Command Centurion Robbie Aeliaes, had come to the ceremony to represent them, while they found their own way to honor today’s guest.

Jessica enjoyed the view from the front row. She was dead center, between her current first officer, Denis Jež and her old friend and former first officer, Robbie Aeliaes. Her other two squadron Command Centurions, Alber’ d’Maine of
Rajput
, and Tomas Kigali of
CR–264
were on either side of them. Behind, and around them, a mob. That was the best way to describe it. A mob.

All of
Auberon
. All of
Rajput
. All of
CR–264.
They lined the walls three deep and filled the aisles two wide. Every one of them dressed in their best uniforms.

It was a very special day.

Up on the stage, Tadej Horvat, the Premier of the
Republic of Aquitaine
Senate himself was just finishing up his opening remarks, a brief speech to welcome everyone and remind them how important it was that the civilians of the Republic recognize and honor those who served.

Jessica suppressed a snort. The only two other civilians present beyond the Premier, among the tremendous horde of people in the room were her own parents, Indira and Miguel Keller, standing
in loco parentis
. Jessica’s mother practically glowed. Father beamed. The rest of the crowd projected enough joy to float a dreadnaught.

Nils Kasum rose from his seat to one side as Tadej returned to his own. The First Lord of the Fleet was a skinny man, who looked much taller than his merely–average height. Something about the way he held himself filled any room. The voice that boomed out over the room was amazingly powerful, a Command voice used to giving orders across a crowded and noisy bridge in the midst of battle.

At one time, the best of the Fighting Lords. Now, their leader.

“Thank you, Premier,” Nils said warmly as he stood at the lectern. Jessica knew that the two of them went back at least to boarding school as friends. When the First Lord became her guardian angel, the Premier eventually had, as well. That had helped, today.

“I wanted to take a quick moment to say thank you to the men and women before me, specifically the crews of
Auberon
,
Rajput
, and
CR–264
,” the First Lord continued, gesturing the crowd before and below him. “The orders a Command Centurion reads when taking charge remind them to
exercise excellence and demand the same of their crews
. These crews have done just that. You are the reason we sleep safe at night, secure that the forces of evil and tyranny will be kept at bay. As your First Lord, thank you.”

The room was too polite to erupt in the sort of growling display they might in a more–private setting. They settled for applause.

“Today, we gather to honor one of our own. There will be medals and citations, in good time. There will be parades and publicity. But the terrible threat to the Republic today does not allow us the luxury of leisure. All too soon, you will be called to battle again. To stand atop the wall and hold it against all comers. To face the darkness and, in doing so, defy it.”

He paused, staring out at the people before him, not as a politician addressing civilians, but as the First Lord of the Fleet, first among equals, surrounded by his peers, uplifted on their shoulders. This was not a civilian ceremony.

Civilians would not understand.

This was
The Fleet
.

He finally turned to the two civilians seated behind him in their best finery.

“Madam and Sri Keller,” he said simply, “would you please join me?”

Miguel and Indira rose and stepped forward. The room could not remain silent as they did, greeting them with a booming cheer. It was almost a solid noise, welcoming them to the podium next to the First Lord.