Victorious Star

Published by

Loose Id LLC

1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-29

Carson City NV 89701-1215

www.loose-id.com

ISBN 1-59632-041-9

Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

Printed in the United States of America

Editor: Erin Mullarkey

Cover Artist: Angela Knight

She snorted. “I’ve seen worse.” She had, but not by much. She shut down the holographic transmission and stroked the instrument panel. “I’m going to miss you, lady,” she said with sincere regret.

The lights in her cabin dimmed just a few degrees.

A slight smile curved Victoria’s lips. The
Adamant
would miss her too. Her ships always loved her. And she always loved them.

A knock came at the door.

Victoria sighed. This was it; this was good-bye. “Come,” she called out.

The door opened and a white-uniformed yeoman snapped a sharp salute. “We’re ready for you, Senior Nav-Pilot Stark.” He stared at her austere black coat. “Nav-Pilot?”

“Former senior nav-pilot. They relieved me of duty, remember?” Victoria smiled grimly. “I get to wear civilian togs.” She pulled on her supple black gloves. There was no way in hell she was going to walk onto that station in a burning white, screaming target of a uniform, especially on the wrong side of the Imperial border. She wasn’t suicidal.

“I’ll be ready in a moment.” With sharp, efficient movements, Victoria buckled the sword-belt over her floor-length black coat. She was not about to walk onto a civilian station without a weapon. The unadorned black scabbard would draw little attention. Swords were not uncommon apparel, as energy weapons were strictly regulated. Swords might cut flesh, but they couldn’t punch holes though plating to release precious atmosphere.

Although many civilians carried swords, Victoria’s saber, like the white breeches and matching frocked officer’s coat tucked safely in her personal cases, was a symbol of her officer’s status. The uniform and weapon were holdovers from a more romantic time when ships sailed the seas rather than the stars. Of course there had been updates. Instead of the archaic tempered steel of the original officer’s saber, the live steel of Victoria’s mimetic blade practically hummed with nanites. The sword would return to shape from a forty-five degree bend, would never lose its edge, and could withstand extremes in temperature, such as the absolute cold of space, without shattering. It would hold the perfect shape of its making for as long as it existed. Live-steel was said to be born, not made.

The yeoman’s jaw tightened. “Are they going to court-martial you?”

Victoria shook her head. “No, just reassign me to another battleship.” She smiled. “Trust me, they do not want me on the stand. My report would be quite embarrassing.” She strode out into the hall. She knew exactly where she was going. No one knew this ship better than she.

The yeoman followed at her heels. “Pardon my frankness, Nav-Pilot, but they gave you a shitty deal. You saved the damned ship.”

Victoria’s hands clenched at her sides. “Somehow, I strongly suspect that the executive officer didn’t want the ship saved.”

The yeoman scowled. “Why don’t I find that surprising?”

“Perhaps because you are an astute young man?” Victoria raised an eyebrow at the crewman. “As it is, if Admiral Moraine had not appeared when he did to drive off those marauders, we would have all been lost.”

The crewman frowned. “You would have found a way to keep us in one piece, even without Admiral Moraine’s fleet.”

Victoria shook her head. She said reluctantly, “I doubt that. The mercenary commander was very, very good.”

The yeoman snorted. “Which one? There were two marauder bands.”

Victoria snorted. “The second. If the first hadn’t started squabbling with the second, we’d all be in chains.”

The yeoman looked up. “Then it’s true? The second commander asked for our surrender?”

Victoria nodded. “Not that I was about to.”

The yeoman chuckled. “I bet you surprised the hell out of him when you opened fire on his flanking ship.”

Victoria smiled grimly. “If Moraine hadn’t spooked him, and he had moved just a little faster, he would have taken us anyway. He was that good, and I was running out of options fast.”

The yeoman snorted. “He didn’t have the
Victorious Star
at the helm.”

She winced. Would she never escape that damned title? “No, he didn’t.” She lengthened her strides. Her long skirts flared in her wake. It was more than time to get off this ship.

She tipped her head back and stared at the distant ceiling. It churned with archaic fans barely disturbing the haze from imported tobacco smoke and other less sociable indulgences.
Good thing my civilian flight-suit and long-coat are black. My Imperial whites wouldn’t last a day under these conditions.
And Fate only knew how long it was going to take Central Command to send a ship all the way out here to collect her. A week? A month?

Once she left this junk heap and got back to base the waiting would really began. She had a reputation for being a top-notch nav-pilot; in fact, she was one of the best. However, her reputation as the
Victorious Star
came more from being just a little too skilled at defending her honor from her own commanders, rather than from saving ships. She scowled and her hand slid unconsciously to the officer’s saber at her side.
Fuck tradition, I’m not sleeping with a superior who doesn’t deserve the title. If they want it, they’ll have to take it.

So far, not one of her former superior officers had succeeded in using the more traditional method of forcing dominance by bending her over a desk.

She thunked her empty glass down on the scarred table. “Just once, I’d like to serve a captain worthy of his rank.” She dropped her feet onto the deck and wandered over toward the bar.

Victoria rolled her eyes and neatly dodged the intended impact. She smiled at her beer.
Didn’t even spill a drop.

She heard the man splutter, turn and stride after her.

Damn fool.
She carefully dodged through the crowd and set her glass down as the man caught up. She turned sharply to face the annoying idiot. “Can I help you?”

Her pursuer stood a full head taller and wore a poorly kept black uniform that hung off his bony frame. His skin color was off. Apparently his interior tech needed a tune-up; it was souring his biological system. He was also pissed as hell about something.

Victoria relaxed into a comfortable and unassuming battle-stance. She could smell the fight coming. Might as well prepare for it. Then she noticed his nav-pilot insignia. His ship’s symbol looked suspiciously like that of one of the mercenary ships she had faced only days ago.
Shit.

Two other, bigger men in the same uniform, though in considerably better condition, came and flanked the nav-pilot. She eyed their rank.
Petty officers.
Their small movements told her point-blank that all their augmentation was in their arms and shoulders.
Probably engineers.
If they swung at her, she’d have to make damn sure their punches didn’t connect.

She almost smiled.
Too bad for them, most of my augmentation is in my legs.
She was pretty sure she had the advantage of speed on all three of them. Their sloppy and aggressive stance told her that they weren’t particularly skilled either.

The mercenary nav-pilot curled his lip. “You Nav-Pilot Stark from the
Adamant?”

Where the hell had they heard that? Well, it was too late now. She gave them a tight smile. “Former senior nav-pilot. I’ve been relieved of duty.”

The two engineers exchanged glances. “What for?” one of them asked.

She smiled. “For kicking mercenary butt.”

All three men glowered.

Victoria had no idea which man threw the first punch, and didn’t particularly care. Two hard kicks to the knees later, and the two big guys were on the ground moaning. The nav-pilot danced out of reach and pulled out his sword.

The civilian bar crowd cleared a wide circle in a big hurry.

Victoria scowled.
Piss!
Blades meant one of them was going to get seriously hurt, and she knew for a fact that it wouldn’t be her.
Damn it.
Paying for this idiot’s funeral would cut into her vacation pay. She set her hand on her pommel but left the blade sheathed. “Look, I don’t know who the hell you are, but pulling a blade on me is a mistake.”

“I’m Nav-Pilot Richards of the
Hellsbreath,
and you are gonna die, bitch!” He lunged.

Victoria let him skim past her, and gave him a barehanded shove to help him along. “What the hell did I do to you?”

Richards tripped and landed in an untidy heap at the edge of the circle, swearing viciously.

She frowned.
Wait a minute, wasn’t the
Hellsbreath
the command ship for the attacking mercenaries?
This could mean serious trouble. If the mercenaries were still pissed, they could easily catch the
Adamant.
The ship had no hope of escape without a senior nav-pilot to fly her.

Richards picked himself up off the deck. “I heard you had command of the
Adamant
when the
Revenge
went nova.”

Victoria nodded. “Yep, that was me.” So the idiot did have his facts straight.
Good, blame me, not the ship.

“You murdering bitch!” Richards flew at her, swinging his blade wildly.

Victoria turned, drew her sword, and batted his blade away from her. The skirts of her long coat flared like a cape. “It’s my duty to defend my ship, you moron.” She caught his ankle with her foot as he passed.

He tumbled spectacularly to the deck.

By the Fates, what an amateur.
Victoria sighed. He didn’t stand a chance. She hadn’t even broken a sweat. “Give it up. You can’t beat me.”

Richards rose to his feet. “I’m going to kill you.”

Someone shouted, “Richards!” The man hesitated at the sound of his name, but flew at her anyway.

She had a split second to see the gun in his other hand. “You idiot.” She lunged and took him through the throat before he could raise the pistol.
There goes my vacation pay. What a waste.

Then she saw the six inches of steel sticking out of his chest.

Richards choked on the steel through his windpipe, clutched at the steel through his heart, then slumped to the deck. The pistol fell with a loud clatter.

Victoria pulled her sword from his body and stepped back before his blood could spot her coat.

A brutally handsome man with the coldest gray eyes she had ever seen stood there staring at her. He shook back his hair. The tumbling blue-black waves revealed the silver braid on the shoulders of his floor-sweeping pitch-black cape. Underneath his cape was a captain’s coat with the insignia for the
Hellsbreath
on his breast.

The moron’s captain.
Victoria winced.
Great, this is just great!

He picked up the pistol and shoved it into his belt. His gaze shifted to her left.

Two men in a similar black uniform stepped up, grabbed Richards by the arms, and dragged him off.

She frowned after them. They looked like the same two engineers she had just thrown to the deck.

The cold-eyed captain calmly withdrew a handkerchief from his coat cuff. “My apologies. That was uncalled for.” He began to clean his blade.

Victoria turned sharply to the side and pulled out her own handkerchief to clean her blade. “My apologies as well, sir.” She had the hardest time looking at his beautiful and bitterly cold face. “I kept the strike clean. If you get him to the med-techs fast enough, you should be able to recover him.”

“I’m afraid not.” He sheathed his weapon. “His implants have been souring for a while.”

Victoria sheathed her weapon. “Suicide then?” She cautiously raised her hands to check her hair. The stuff unraveled to her waist if she wasn’t careful. Her silver clip was still in place and it seemed to be holding, even after the fight.
It should. I had it braided tightly enough to last through a nuclear attack.

“Suicide seems likely.” He nodded in formal greeting. “I’m Captain Aubrey Ravnos, of the
Hellsbreath,
and you are?”

“Captain Ravnos.” She presented a short respectful bow. “First Lieutenant Victoria Stark, formerly senior nav-pilot of the
Adamant,
at your service.”

Ravnos’s brows shot up. “You’re a long way from home, nav-pilot.”

She nodded. “I’m here to await a shuttle to take me back to base for reassignment.”

He frowned. “Reassignment?”

Victoria let out a breath.
Might as well get this over with, before he hears it from someone else.
“During the last engagement, I took command.”

“Ah, yes, the
Adamant,
I remember. I did wonder why she went from basic maneuvers to sudden counter-strike.” He raised a brow. “That was you?”

She nodded. “Yes, sir. It was very close.”

“Very close. We nearly had you.” Amusement flashed in his gaze. “I must admit I was impressed. Considering your ship’s position, it was the only option you had besides surrender.”

Victoria felt her cheeks warm. The same captain that took out fifteen of the Imperium’s dreadnoughts was impressed? With her? No one had ever praised her for her skills in battle, only complained bitterly that she took their victory from them. The wave of gratitude took her completely by surprise. Fate and damnation, she’d kill to serve a captain that appreciated her skills. “As I said, it was very close.”

A midnight brow shot up. “Let me get this straight; you’re being reassigned even though you saved the ship?”

Victoria nodded and gave him a bitter smile. “It seems that the
Adamant’s
second in command did not appreciate it.” The little shit had bitched and moaned non-stop until her spineless coward of a captain agreed to relieve her from duty, just to shut him up.

“The
Adamant’s
second in command?” He frowned. “What happened to the ship’s captain?”

Victoria bit back her grin. “Fainted.” She sincerely hoped her voice would carry enough to spread that little tidbit far and wide. As revenge went, it was rather small and petty, but hey, revenge was always petty.

“The captain fainted?” A smile almost curved his lips. “You’re joking.”

Victoria shook her head. “No, sir, fainted dead away. The commander yelled ‘abandon ship’ and carted them both to the escape pods. As soon as they cleared the bridge, I took over the helm and got the ship out of your interesting little trap.”

“And they relieved you of duty.” Ravnos snorted. “Actions like that make me wonder how the Imperium got to be an Imperium to begin with.”

Victoria often wondered the same thing, but as an officer of said Imperium it would be in poor taste, not to mention downright dangerous, to say it out loud.

Ravnos sighed. “Again, I apologize for the unprovoked attack from my crewman.”

Victoria didn’t know what to do; now, the enemy captain was apologizing -- to her.

Ravnos gave her an assessing look. “But it seems that I am now in need of a senior nav-pilot.”

“That man was a senior nav-pilot?” She shook her head. “I find that hard to believe.”

Ravnos raised a black brow and speared her with icy amusement. “There was some doubt as to his credentials.”

Victoria snorted. “I bet fully half the ship’s guidance functions were offline.”

Ravnos raised his chin. “You Imperials almost lost every ship to us anyway.”

Victoria couldn’t tell if he was angry or amused. She decided on amusement and indulged in a tight smile. “Not one of us would have survived if you’d had a proper nav-pilot, Captain. Pardon me, but your tactics were brilliant. The only reason we made it was because our reaction time was better.”

He nodded. “Thank you, and you’re right. I’ve rarely seen a ship respond as fast as the
Adamant.”

Victoria felt her cheeks heat under his praise.
If this keeps up, I’m going to have a bad case of hero worship.

His gaze sharpened. “Since you are between assignments and I am in need of a nav-pilot, why don’t you serve on board my ship?”

Victoria stared at him in astonishment. He wanted her, an Imperial officer, to serve on his mercenary ship? Was he out of his mind? He couldn’t be serious.

His gaze remained steady, and something chilled in its depths.

Victoria found his simple stillness unnerving.
Shit.
He was serious. She bit back a less than judicious comment. “I’d be honored to serve you, Captain,” she said softly. “But I really don’t think that would be a good idea. My superiors might not take it well if I, ah…” She flinched.
How the hell do I say this without insulting him?

“Work for someone who just got finished blowing the hell out of fifteen warships?” Bitter humor shimmered in his gaze. “You do have a point.”

Victoria examined the toe of her boot, profoundly disappointed that she’d had to turn him down. “Shame, too; you’re a damn fine captain.”

He raised a dark mocking brow. “Think so?”

“If you were Imperial, I’d be begging to serve under you.” She peeked up at him. The shadows deepened the sharp lines of his face.
Bloody Fate, he’s fine.
She blushed and looked away. On second thought, maybe it was better this way. He was far too striking for her to serve effectively. She’d be too busy fantasizing about what he’d look like naked.

“I see. Then perhaps if we do this another way?” He glanced to her right.

“What?” Victoria looked up, sensing sudden danger. She felt a fist slam into her side, then the electric burn in her cybernetic system. They’d used a stunner on her. She dropped to her knees in surprise.
They can’t mean to just take me?
Darkness smothered her thoughts.

She never felt the deck.