CHAPTER 9
Everything was happening too quickly on the bridge of the Relentless. Gral'hilanth needed more time to process Ambra's command to fire, to think of the consequences, and then to obey it. The steely glare from Councillor Lentol didn't help. The expectant look from Captain Eadmon didn't help. This was going to be Gral'hilanth's first battle ever, and she was way out of her depth.
"Striker group closing," a bridge officer called.
"They're powering up their shields and weapons."
"Aloyd Falentha, you have orders to fire," said Ambra.
"Cap—" was all Gral'hilanth could say before the ship rocked.
The rumble of deck plating and bulkheads, reverberating from the blast, had barely subsided before another blast hit. Alarms sounded.
"Do your job," Gral'hilanth told Eadmon over the cacophony.
Captain Eadmon needed no further prompting. From her command chair, she barked out orders to various stations. The whine and thump of the weapons fire being returned was heard and felt. This was followed by a sudden sinking feeling as Kalenth's gravity fought with the ship's artificial gravity.
What is she doing? Gral'hilanth wondered. The aloyd sought refuge in her chair and looked at the readout. The Relentless was descending towards the planet. That was not good news. The Relentless was built in space to operate in space; it wasn't designed for atmospheric flight.
A quick glance at velocity and trajectory gave Gral'hilanth the answer: too fast and shallow. The Captain was planning to bounce the Relentless off the atmosphere in order to confuse the enemy and gain position on them.
It was a rough ride for several seconds, but then things smoothed out. Alarms still sounded. Readouts flashed red. The impact from enemy fire ceased.
Eadmon called out for damage assessments.
"Damage control teams to deck thirty-one, section twelve."
"Engine room operational."
"Sick bay on standby."
"Escape pods primed."
"Damage control teams to deck seven, section four."
"Decks five and six, sections four to eight are venting atmosphere and have been sealed off."
Another blast rocked the ship.
That wasn't enemy fire, thought Gral'hilanth. Decompression? Armament store?
Eadmon called out for the status of the weapons systems.
"RBat four non-op. RBats one through three damaged. All other Bats fully op. MLs fully op."
The response was instant, but it took Gral'hilanth a few moments to decipher: They had lost one of the four rear weapons batteries. Three others were damaged, but operational. Thankfully all the others on the ship were okay, including the missile launchers.
"Are we running?" Ambra demanded as she pulled herself off the floor. "I gave you orders to fight."
Eadmon shot the councillor a withering look. "I'm keeping us alive!" She turned to a security detail. "Escort the councillor off the bridge. Take her to an escape pod in case we need to evacuate."
Ambra glowered at Gral'hilanth as she was removed from the bridge, but the aloyd didn't countermand the order. Once the councillor was gone, Gral'hilanth turned her attention back to her readouts.
The weapons fell silent.
"Tactical! Report!" Eadmon barked.
"The Sword is on an orbital vector," responded the tactical officer. "The Crusade was pursuing but has turned back out of weapons range."
"We're lucky they didn't press their advantage," Eadmon told Gral'hilanth. "Do you want to press our advantage?"
"What?" Gral'hilanth was confused.
"We can keep going, or we can go back and win this fight."
"Can we win?"
"Now that they've made a mistake. The Sword and Crusade are on different orbital tangents." She pointed at the display. "We can slingshot around the second moon. We'll encounter the Sword before the Crusade can join the fight."
"We have sustained damage, casualties," said Gral'hilanth. "Can we take more?"
"Plenty more," replied Eadmon "We'll survive until we get backup."
Gral'hilanth assessed the situation. "Do it!"
The course around the moon took several minutes, but there was still a lot of action on the bridge. Damage and casualty reports still came in: Eighteen confirmed deaths, thirty critical injuries, forty-two minor injuries, and seventeen missing. Eadmon, however, was concentrating on their course and bolstering the forward shields.
Soon, Kalenth started looming large on the sensors. The Sword and Crusade were on different sides of the planet. The projected flight path of the Relentless intersected with the projected flight path of the Sword. They could only wait until the Sword was within weapons range.
Gral'hilanth watched as another signal appeared on the monitor. It was the Formidable, commanded by her father. She was grateful that the call for back up went out before the engagement had begun.
Eadmon contacted the Formidable and relayed course information. Its projected flight path altered to intercept the Sword.
"LORAMS targeted!" The officer on tactical called out.
"Fire!" Eadmon ordered.
Two volleys, each consisting of four long-range missiles, LORAMS, speared out ahead of the ship.
"The Sword has launched its own LORAMS."
"Deploy countermeasures," Eadmon ordered.
Gral'hilanth watched the monitor. Points of light moved ahead of their position while the same happened with the Sword. The points appeared to be on a collision course, but passed by each other and continued on their way. The forward weapons opened fire on the incoming missiles. The points on the monitor decreased until only one was visible. The point merged with the Relentless. Gral'hilanth braced for impact.
The bridge rocked, and sparks flashed across Gral'hilanth's vision. She didn't know if they were real or imagined. Sight and sound came back.
"Report!" shouted Eadmon.
"Shields held. Minimal damage."
"What damage have we inflicted?" Eadmon demanded.
"Two LORAMS hit the Sword. We have no data on damage yet."
"We're about to find out."
The Sword and Relentless were heading straight for each other.
"Helm, attack pattern Ultra! Tactical, full spread!" ordered Eadmon.
The whine and thump of the weapons discharge filled the bridge. From her console, Gral'hilanth could see that the Sword had sustained serious damage to their propulsion and navigation. It returned fire.
Gral'hilanth gripped the arms of her chair as the Relentless took several more hits. She looked down at the monitor and watched as the Formidable's signal bore down on the Sword. The signals merged, and then there was only one.
"Crusade is breaking orbit and leaving the system," said the tactical officer. "It has jumped to light speed."
"Can we pursue?" asked Gral'hilanth.
The look from Eadmon told her it was not an option.
"Call from the Formidable," announced the communication officer.
Captain Eadmon looked over to Gral'hilanth. "Do you want to take this?"
Gral'hilanth nodded. The viewscreen sprang to life and the image of her father appeared.
"Aloyd Falentha," said her father. "The Sword is destroyed. We are picking up survivors. Thank you for softening her up for us."
"Captain Eadmon deserves the praise," said Gral'hilanth. "As do you for finishing the job."
Her father gave a slight nod. "I can see you have taken some damage. We can cater to any wounded you have."
"Lieutenant," Gral'hilanth called to a bridge officer. "Go to sickbay. See who can be transferred."
"Yes, Aloyd."
Gral'hilanth turned back to the screen.
"We will send some repair teams to help you," her father offered.
"That will be most welcome. Is that all Lunguseth Falentha?"
"Yes, Aloyd. Formidable out." The communication ended.
Gral'hilanth turned to Captain Eadmon. "Have all hands stand down from battle stations. You have the bridge."
"Yes, Aloyd."
The voices were silenced when Gral'hilanth left the bridge, but alarms still sounded in the corridors. She found the nearest head, locked herself in a cubicle, and threw up.
~~~~
It wasn't her first space battle and thankfully it wasn't her last. However, it was the least satisfying.
Captain Eadmon allowed the shower spray to wash the grime away, but it wasn't washing away the sick feeling she had. All survivors from the Sword were accounted for. Commodore Heln was not among them.
She had never said it, but she had liked Heln as well as respected him. Their time together as part of the same striker group had seen them disagree several times, but those disagreements had never been personal.
She thought back to the mission on Gatlor where Aloyd Karthen was prepared to inflict collateral damage on the civilian population. She had voiced her dislike of killing her own then. This time was worse. Not only were those on the Sword her own, she knew some of them personally. Garin regretted their deaths had to come at her hands, but it was a matter of survival. And pride, she thought. She hated losing.
The sound of her door chime pulled her out of her thoughts. Garin turned off the shower, grabbed a bathrobe, and headed for the door as she put it on. Because of the lateness of the hour, the sight of Aloyd Falentha surprised her.
"May I come in?" asked the aloyd.
Eadmon stepped aside and gestured for the blonde-haired woman to enter. The aloyd didn't wait for an invitation to sit and slumped into the nearest chair.
Garin adjusted her robe and took a seat opposite the aloyd. She could tell by the aloyd's pallid complexion that this was not going to be a quick visit. She had seen a similar look on junior officers' faces after their first combat mission.
"I have submitted a formal commendation of your actions in battle," Aloyd Falentha said.
For what it's worth, Garin thought. We may have started a civil war. There is little honour in that. "Thank you," she replied.
"You saved my li—the ship," the aloyd continued. "You have my gratitude."
"I didn't know that you showed gratitude for it. All aloyds I've known expect us to follow orders with no acknowledgement in return."
"I'm not… I am not like other aloyds."
"So I've noticed."
"This conflict has brought me out in the open so to speak." The aloyd resumed her speech without looking at Garin. "You will probably hear the truth in due course, if you haven't already."
Not for wanting, thought Garin.
"I was appointed to this rank by Councillor Lentol just prior to taking command of the Relentless. It was done without the knowledge of the Council. If she gets her way, then my rank will be official." Falentha frowned. "Or more official?" She shook her head. "The upshot is, that before setting foot on this ship, I was not an aloyd. I should have been, but I did not complete my training."
That explains a lot, thought Garin.
"I can understand that you might have misgivings about this situation. You probably have a lot of questions too."
Far too many.
"I—" Falentha was interrupted by a call from Councillor Lentol.
Garin couldn't tell what was being said because the aloyd said nothing, but her ashen pallor was punctuated by crimson. Garin guessed that whatever was said could not have been good.
"I have to go," said the aloyd. "We'll talk more tomorrow." She stood up. "My thanks once again."
Garin watched the woman go. What the hell am I involved in?
She climbed out of the chair and headed for the communications console. Garin waited impatiently for the calls to connect. A face appeared. It was almost like looking in a mirror.
"Hey, Gar." A grin spread across the person's face.
"Hey, Bree." Garin smiled as she addressed her sister. "Just a moment. I'm contacting Cayle." Her smile faded. "We need to talk."
"All right."
Another face appeared next to her sister's. The man was still handsome, despite the faint lines around the eyes and the receding hairline. Though, Garin was a little taken aback by the thin moustache clinging to his upper lip that hadn't been there the last time she'd seen him.
"Cayle," she greeted him.
"Garin, Breena. It's good to see my little sister and baby sister."
"Cay!" Breena hated being called 'baby sister'. Cayle was seven years older than Garin; Breena was fourteen years younger than her.
Garin had been close to her brother growing up, but by the time Breena was old enough to have a conversation with, Cayle was already a lieutenant and Garin was a first-year cadet at military school, and neither had much time for their baby sister. It was only after Breena herself became an officer that they really got to know each other.
"We have something we need to talk about," said Garin, becoming serious.
"Yes," said Cayle. "I heard about your victory. Very commendable."
"You heard about that?" asked Garin.
"News like that travels fast," Cayle replied.
"Victory?" asked Breena.
"I was in a battle with a striker group," Garin explained. "Apparently they were attempting to kill Councillor Lentol, who was aboard my ship."
"Are you all right?" Breena looked shocked.
"Yes, I am fine. Where are you?" asked Garin.
"I am on leave," said Breena. "I requested a sabbatical from duty."
"Why did you do that?" asked Cayle. "It will affect your promotion chances."
"I'm already a commander. I'm at least eight years from becoming a captain. Taking a year out won't make much difference."
"Are you pregnant?" asked Cayle.
"What?" Breena appeared annoyed by the question. "No!"
"I can see no other reason for you to take a sabbatical."
"That's not important," Garin interrupted the exchange. "Bree, you'll probably be called back to duty soon. The reason I'm calling is that the Elit are on the brink of civil war. We're going to have to choose sides."
"Civil war?" Breena queried.
"Councillor Lentol is trying to wrest power from the Council. That's why they tried to kill her. The Elit families are taking sides. Aloyds are taking sides. We need to make sure that we're all on the same side."
"I'm under Aloyd Talcolga, with a striker group consisting of the Vanguard and Intrepid," said Cayle. "He's ready to support Councillor Lentol. I'm on your side Garin. Councillor Lentol seems to be the leader we need."
I'm not so sure about that, thought Garin.
"Who were you under before your sabbatical?" Cayle asked Breena.
"Aloyd Willenth. The Fearless and Spartan."
"If he recalls you, refuse!" Cayle said forcefully. "I'll speak to Aloyd Talcolga and get you recalled under him. You can serve as my first officer."
"No! I mean, that's nice, Cay," replied Breena, "but what about your existing first officer?"
"Don't worry about that. Where are you? We'll make it a priority to come and get you," he said.
"I'm on Yerhulin."
"Yerhulin! That's hardly a holiday spot to spend your R & R," Cayle scoffed.
"I'm visiting an old friend." Breena scolded her older brother. "What I do with my time off is not your concern."
"Sorry, baby sister."
"Don't call me that, Cay." Breena bristled.
"Then you can address me as, 'sir'. I am your superior officer."
"But—"
"Enough!" Garin interjected. "Bree. Stay put until Cayle comes for you. Cayle, keep her safe."
Breena glowered and nodded once.
"I want us all to survive this. That's the only priority," Garin stated firmly.
~~~~
This time there would be victory. Ambra strode with purpose to the front of the Council Chambers. She stood in front of Councillor Maldan and addressed him directly.
"Assassination. Deaths of innocent people. Is that what you want the Elit to become?" She turned abruptly to address the assembled councillors. Her long, blonde hair swished and settled over her shoulders. It stood out in stark contrast to the black suit she wore. She had worn red previously to make herself noticed. Now she chose to wear black – a statement that she was serious and determined enough to take control.
She raised her voice and spread her arms. "We have always resolved internal disputes with a vote, not murder. I know there is fierce opposition to my plans, but this is further evidence that the Elit, this Council, the Sylfainer are broken. They see my death as the only way to silence me. I will not be silenced!"
Rather than take the podium, Ambra walked slowly to the centre of the chamber. Each stride was measured. Not too long, not too short. Perfectly controlled. Her eyes were focussed on the spot where she planned to stop, but her peripheral vision picked up the heads of the other councillors turning to watch her as she walked by them. She felt confident, not cocky. She had the moral high ground after the attempt on her life.
Ambra reached the centre point of the assembly, and began. Her voice was as measured as her pace to get there. "Those of you who voted against me have another chance to save your position. You can side with me, or you can side with those who resort to assassination attempts to maintain their grip on power.
"We need strong, decisive leadership. Give me control and you will prosper. Deny me and see this wounded, lumbering beast stumble and die, leaving you to scrabble about in its decaying corpse for some shred of dignity."
As she spoke, Ambra turned to all five sides of the room, finally coming to a halt facing the chairman's podium.
Toman ap Karthen approached and stood next to Ambra to address the assembly. "I will not see this society destroy itself with another vote. Councillor Lentol has made it clear that she is dissatisfied and desires reform. However, if you think that is all she will be happy with, you are mistaken. She wants the power. You have all read her proposal. Dissolve the Council. Set up a new governing structure with her as the chair. What other reforms will she seek without your knowledge? What other reforms will she make without your approval?"
"Whatever they are," declared Ambra. "They will be made without your approval." She leaned towards Toman and whispered for only him to hear. "I know it was you. When you fired upon me, you sealed your fate."
She stalked back to the front of the hall. "No more discussions," she told Maldan. "We vote now!"
~~~~
The high patchy clouds cleared as Councillor Toman ap Karthen's shuttle sped south and east over the sea. He looked out at the sun beating down onto the azure waters. It's beautiful, he thought.
Toman had made this journey countless times before, but had never stopped to appreciate the splendour of Kalenth as it sped beneath him. Usually he had his nose buried in some report that needed his attention.
It shouldn't be this nice. Not today.
Land replaced the sea. Green fields. Mountains. Lakes. Scrubby wasteland. Jungle. Every type of terrain it seemed scrolled underneath him.
The narrow straits that separated the continents disappeared in a blink. The rocky hinterland gave way to the sand dunes of the Nevaruk Desert. Soon, the green oasis that was his home appeared.
The shuttle descended and landed.
As he walked from the shuttle to the house, each step seemed to take longer than the previous one. His feet were getting heavier. His vision narrowed onto the entrance. The more it filled his vision, the further away it appeared.
The large doors felt heavy as he pushed on them. His feet felt heavy as he lifted them over the threshold. His heart felt heavy as he realised the significance of the moment.
At first the icy, air-conditioned blast of air hit him like a hammer, but soon his senses returned to normal.
"Rephon!" Toman called to his nephew who was passing at the top of the stairs.
"Uncle Toman?" Rephon trotted down the stairs.
How like his father he looks, thought Toman. "We need to evacuate the estate, plan Gamma. Start preparations immediately."
"Gamma? Are you sure?"
"Yes. Ambra ap Lentol won the vote. It is no longer safe for our family to stay. Inform the entire household. We must move quickly." Toman looked towards the wing where his home office was situated. "I..." He looked back to his nephew. "Can you handle it? I need to make some calls of my own to other families."
Rephon nodded.
Toman raised his hand to his nephew's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "Good man. I am counting on you." Toman gave his nephew an encouraging pat on the back.
Toman walked away as Rephon set off to start the evacuation. He closed the door to his office and sank down in his chair. His personal slave appeared.
"Go to the slave quarters in the basement," said Toman. "The estate is being evacuated. You will need to be with the other slaves for now."
"Yes, sir."
The slave disappeared as quickly as it arrived.
Toman sighed, took out a piece of electronic paper, and began to compose a note.
Dear Family,
I have failed.
Ambra ap Lentol has declared the founding families Fethusal. She says that no one will be harmed. However, I do not trust her.
She rightly suspects that I organised the attack on the Relentless. She will not let me live for that.
I have allowed a monster to gain control of the Council. I cannot stop her from destroying our way of life. The only thing I can do is to prevent her from using my death as a tool of her twisted propaganda.
I am handing control of the evacuation to my nephew Rephon. It is my wish that he assume the title of Family Head.
Save yourselves until the time comes that Ambra can be stopped. That time will come. I am just sorry I won't be there to see it.
Toman
Toman read the words. He read them again.
He slipped his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and took out a small bottle.
He opened the bottle and downed the contents in one go. Doesn't taste so bad.
He closed his eyes and the bottle slipped from his hand.
~~~~
After hearing the initial news from Governor Taliss, Mariantha had turned on the Yun'thul news channel. Nothing. An hour passed, and then the announcement was made. Ambra ap Lentol had declared herself Bren, ultimate leader of the Council and the Hegemony. Her first decree was to declare the founding families no longer Elit.
Mariantha had tried calling Toman without success. Then the call from her son, Rephon came.
"Mother…" His voice sounded weak and small. His eyes were downcast.
"Rephon, what is going on?" She had other questions she wanted to ask, but limited herself to one at a time.
"It's Uncle Toman… he is… dead."
Considering the news coming from Kalenth, Toman's death didn't come as much of a shock as she would have expected. "How?" Mariantha asked.
"Suicide. He left a note. He felt he had failed the family. He was responsible for the attack on Councillor Lentol."
There was a long pause. Mariantha had loved her brother-in-law, yet she could not find it in her to grieve. She felt anger, bitterness, resentment, and many other emotions, but not grief.
"You are not safe," she said to her son.
"Uncle Toman put me in charge. Preparations are being made," Rephon said.
Mariantha nodded. Ever since the uprising on Alopan over a thousand years ago, every Elit family she knew had a sanctuary in case of trouble. It might be a planet or moon, which might or might not appear on official navigation charts. Mariantha was privileged to know of both the Karthen and Willenth safe havens. The Willenth hideaway was nearer to Yun'thul.
"I will try and join you when I can," she said.
Rephon offered a small smile.
How like his father he is when he smiles, she thought.
"Stay safe." Rephon looked behind him. "I need to go. You know where we are."
With that the communication ended.
Why did I stay here? I should have gone back to Kalenth. She knew why she had stayed. Jenissa.
It had been fifteen days since Ambra ap Lentol had ordered the death of the slave. Jenissa was inconsolable and had taken to her bed. Her own aunt seemed to distance herself from her niece. Mariantha felt she couldn't leave Jenissa in such a shattered state. So, she stayed and tended the distraught young woman, rarely leaving her side, cajoling her to try and eat, offering her a shoulder to cry on when despair overcame her.
Mariantha hadn't liked Jenissa's initial rudeness towards her, but she respected it. It showed strength in one so young to stand up to an elder, whether the rudeness was deserved or not. She was strong then, but not now. Look at her. Grieving for a slave. The harshness of her thoughts stirred up conflict in Mariantha. She understood loss, but Elit were meant to be stoic, at least around strangers.
Maybe that is where things went wrong, Mariantha pondered. Kikola was never one to express her emotions. The training we gave her was responsible for that. However, I was too reserved around her. If I had allowed myself to be a proper mother to her, none of this would have happened.
Jenissa was finally sleeping after her aunt's physician had been called and prescribed her a mild sedative. That was before Rephon's call.
The hours passed slowly. It gave Mariantha time to digest the news about Ambra ap Lentol's take over, Toman's death, and the loss of her prestige as Elit. She had hoped it was all a mistake. Sadly, it was not.
Now, Mariantha moved to the window looking out over the moonlit gardens. Insects with bright-blue bioluminescent bodies flittered among the flowers. Its profound beauty brought tears to her eyes. Would life ever seem this idyllic again? she wondered.
A moan distracted her. She turned to look at the bed. Jenissa whispered the slave's name and started weeping. Mariantha crossed the room and cradled the young woman, persuaded her to take a drink, and held Jenissa until she drifted off to sleep again.
Mariantha dozed in a chair near Jenissa's bed and woke up with the golden light of dawn flooding the room. Jenissa emerged from the bathroom, face pale and eyes red.
"I heard the news," the young woman said. "Will she come after me?" Her voice wavered with fear.
Mariantha hadn't considered what Ambra's next course of action would be. The announcement on the news said those expelled from the Elit would not be harmed. They would be declared Fethusal and lose their Elit rights.
Ambra is a liar. Trouble. Jenissa should be worried. "I don't know. All I do know is that everything has changed."
"I should have run when your daughter gave me the chance. It's too late for Menari, but I am not going to stay anymore."
"What are you saying?"
"I am going to run."
"Run? To where?"
"A wise man once said: 'It doesn't matter where you are running to, it's what you are running away from that counts.'"
~~~~
Boran didn't like unexpected visits. He especially didn't like unexpected visits from Elit. He really didn't like unexpected visits from Elit when he was about to run.
It had been six days since Ambra ap Lentol had announced a purge among the Elit and declared herself Bren. However, Boran had been preparing ever since Hila's – Gral'hilanth's – visit. It was the sight of seeing his old friend standing next to Lentol in a broadcast that convinced him it was finally time. Assets had been sold and money had been put in accessible accounts throughout the Spur. The estate's hired help had been dismissed. Only Marleen, Tremothen, and Tana were going with him. A ship was ready and only the final few loose ends were left.
He hoped he could deal with his uninvited guests quickly. He entered his office. Tremothen stood glaring at two seated figures. He recognised the long golden curls of the younger of the two women, Jenissa ap Taliss. Boran didn't recognise the older woman accompanying her, though there was something familiar about her.
The dark-haired woman stood up. "Boran Zerbilla?"
"Yes."
"I am Mariantha ap Karthen."
"Kikola's mother?"
"That is correct." She suddenly seemed at a loss as to what to do next. "I… We…" She recovered herself quickly. "We have come to ask for your help."
"Help? Do you need some freight hauling somewhere?"
She didn't appreciate his flippancy and shot him a withering look. "In a manner of speaking. Let us not play games, though. You are aware of the situation. Jenissa and I want to leave the Hegemony. You helped my daughter. I would appreciate it if you could do the same for us. You will be recompensed, of course."
"Just the two of you?" asked Boran.
"Yes." Mariantha sat back down opposite him.
Tremothen moved up to stand behind the two women as Boran took a seat behind his desk. He rubbed the stubble on his cheeks with both hands, hoping it would somehow relieve the stress. He didn't need this complication. "No," he said. "Sorry. You'll have to find someone else to help you."
"Please… we—"
Orion's Balls, she said 'please'. "Okay. Fine. It just so happens we'll be heading that way."
"Heading what way?"
"To where your daughter is."
Mariantha smiled. "Thank you."
"You've got to be joking!" said Tremothen. "We can't take them with us."
You're right, Boran thought. "Why not?"
"Because we can't drag Elit around with us."
Jenissa mumbled something.
"What was that?" asked Boran.
The young woman's voice was barely more than a whisper. "You saw the news. We are not Elit anymore."
Tremothen snorted derisively. "That's not the point—"
"It is the point!" Jenissa cut him off. She stood up and faced off with the burly man. "What are you? Some hired thug? A muscle with no brain? Whatever you are, you are nothing! You have no breeding. No revered family stretching back thousands of years. What meagre education you received, everything you have ever done in your life has amounted to this: being the right arm to a criminal, because you do not have the intelligence to be a criminal on your own."
Throughout Jenissa's retort, her voice remained calm and level. Its cultured tones resonated off the office's glass walls. It had a quality that Boran could listen to all day, a similar quality that he had found with Kikola's voice. It was the one redeeming feature of the Elit. So, what Jenissa said next made him pay attention. The anger was totally at odds to the demure Elit woman that had been sitting in front of him until now.
"That is the point!" Jenissa declaimed. "You are nothing more than a parasite living off an insect under a rock!" She pointed downwards with an emphatic gesture.
Boran noted the surprised expression on Tremothen's face as Jenissa took a step towards him.
"Yet, for all my breeding, for all my heritage, for all my education and training to one day govern a planet, right now, you are more than me."
From behind, Boran saw her shoulders sag.
Her voice returned to its former cultured tones, "Therefore, if you want me to get on my knees and beg. I will. I will do whatever is needed to get out of here, because here I am nothing. To no longer be Elit, is to be less than nothing."
Tremothen was stunned by the outburst, but Boran could see his resolve. He could also hear the Elit self-belief and arrogance in Jenissa's words, but the girl knew she was beaten and was dealing with it the only way she knew how. However, Tremothen was the longest serving and most loyal of his associates. Boran realised he could not force this on him.
"Every fibre of my being thinks taking them is the wrong thing to do," Boran said to Tremothen. "I have no love for Elit, you know that. I know that if we meet Karthen and she finds out I didn't help her mother… well I shudder to think what she would do. I also know what Tehvay would want me to do. But I'm giving this choice to you. It's your life on the line too if you're running with me. If you say, 'no', then we leave them."
Tremothen looked at Boran. "You're the boss, Boss." He turned his attention back to Jenissa, who had returned to her seat. "And like the girl said, I'm not smart enough to do this on my own. I wouldn't want to make the wrong decision."
"There is no wrong decision," said Boran.
"Yes, there is. We can't leave them. We either take them or we kill them."
Jenissa looked like she was about to protest, but Mariantha stopped her.
"If we kill them, Karthen will kill us," Tremothen concluded.
"Then there is no choice. They come with us." Boran turned to Mariantha. "I assume you didn't come here on a public transport, did you?"
"We came on my private transport."
"With a crew?"
"Yes." Mariantha stepped forward. "They are staying. You will not be killing them."
"That's not your decision to make," said Boran.
"You're right, it's not my decision," said Mariantha. "It's theirs. They decided they would rather stay. You will not kill them for that."
"I don't like loose ends," Boran stated.
"I am not asking you to like it."
In the brief time he had spent with Kikola, he had seen a woman who exuded confidence and would stand her ground when needed – two traits that were obviously inherited from her mother. However, he had also seen Kikola interact with Tehvay, and at times she had seemed almost introverted and shy, two things he could never imagine Mariantha being. She looked at him with a fierce, defiant gaze. Jenissa may feel beaten, and no longer consider herself Elit, Boran thought. Mariantha, on the other hand, would always be Elit. Even if the situation is forcing her to run, she will not give that up.
"I hope you're prepared to slum it," said Boran. "I have a luxury, private cruiser, but I'm sure it won't be up to your standards."
Mariantha stood up. "We will pay you to take us to my daughter. We will not be paying for your poor attempt at humour."
"Oh, that comes for free," said Boran.
"I was afraid of that." Mariantha fixed him with a stare. Yet, behind Mariantha's glare, Boran was convinced he had caught her smiling.
~~~~
The Formidable was a Class 73 medium combat warship, the oldest class of warship still in service. Thus, its corridors were a little shabbier, and a little darker than the recently refurbished Relentless. The crew, however, were as sharp and efficient as any in the fleet.
The junior officer leading Gral'hilanth stopped outside a door with a faded signage that read 'Ready Room' and underneath in slightly less faded lettering 'Lunguseth Oalanic ap Falentha'. The officer snapped to attention and saluted. She returned the salute and dismissed him.
As an aloyd she did not need to signal her arrival, she could just march in, but this was her father. Gral'hilanth pressed the door chime and waited. The door opened, and she took a few tentative steps forward.
Her father was seated at his desk. The room was indistinguishable from any other ready room on any other ship: rectangular, dark grey and functional. He rose and saluted. There was a mixture of emotions on his face. Gral'hilanth could detect a little pride at seeing his daughter in uniform for the first time in person. However, she could also see doubt, the cause of which she could only guess at.
"Father, I wanted to personally thank you for your actions in battle. I know I should have come sooner…"
"I was doing my duty," Oalanic replied.
"Doing it very well, may I add? I have submitted a commendation report for your actions."
He gave a single incline of the head to show his appreciation. "I do not serve to garner commendations and medals. A job well done is reward in itself."
Was that a barb at my failure? Gral'hilanth thought. He had tried to instil that dedication in her from an early age, but she was always too eager to finish a task quickly, rather than correctly. Her expulsion from the academy had hit him harder than it had her. It was her inability to face his disappointment that had been a prime factor in her self-imposed exile.
Oalanic had achieved as much as was possible for a Fethusal in the military, he had married into the Elit, and thus given the rank of Lunguseth. The rank of aloyd was denied him because it was considered a birthright. As his firstborn, it was Gral'hilanth's duty to become an aloyd in his stead. Her actions reflected on him. Gral'hilanth's expulsion was his shame to carry as well as hers, and now she was a source of pride again.
What would he think of me if he knew I was a puppet for a power-hungry tyrant who treats me no better than a sexual plaything for her own deviant proclivity?
Gral'hilanth brought her attention back to her father who was standing stiff and straight. She realised that she had been standing there too long in silence, and therefore, he had remained on his feet as well. After all, she outranked him.
Gral'hilanth sat down on the opposite side of the desk from her father. She gestured for him to take a seat. "Whatever reasons for which you do something, others will see it differently," she said. "One can only hope they see it in a good light."
He frowned in confusion. "Uh, quite. Whatever light anyone sees it in, it's how we judge ourselves that matter. We destroyed one of our ships. There was an aloyd on board. An Elit."
"Tokask. I know. It was her decision to attack the Relentless. We merely defended ourselves. Did you know her?"
"No." He shook his head. "Some may claim she was just lucky to get the first strike in. I know Councillor Lentol does not take well to opposition." He lowered his eyes. "I am hearing that some families are supporting her out of fear of what will happen if they oppose her. That is not a good platform for support, because if these families lose their fear…"
"Are you saying we are on the wrong side?"
He shook his head. "I am saying that we could end up on the losing side. As you pointed out, it is for someone else to decide if that is the wrong side or not." He paused. "However, I do have some… questions."
"About what?"
"Your cousin Ill'sandreth has told me what transpired at the Council meetings. What Councillor Lentol said; her desire to make the Elit strong, pure."
"Do not concern yourself," Gral'hilanth replied. "The Bren is merely saying that the principles have been corrupted. She told me herself that you are an example of what an Elit should be: loyal, dedicated, someone who thinks of the greater needs of society more than themselves. If she were concerned about Elit purity, she would not have ousted the founding families."
"Still, even the most loyal of us have doubts when such change is proposed."
"Of course, there will be questions. Councillor Lentol has taken me as a confidante. She values the Falentha family's loyalty. You have nothing to worry about." I hope my sacrifices are worth it. "I am making sure that she has no cause to doubt our loyalty." I'm on my knees every day proving it.
"If there is no doubting our loyalty, why do you have to make sure of it?"
Because I am a disgusting degenerate who is allowing herself to be humiliated on the promise of power and revenge.