Homebound Sector, Haven System, Base Oceana
“Move the body to the waste recycling decks tonight at 2330.” He ordered, watching them shove the corpse into the tiny supply closet. “The processes will break it down the raw nutrients, destroy the evidence.”
The Marines slammed the door, concealing the corpse’s bloody orange uniform from the view of the conference room. The soldiers turned to salute their superior, “Will that be all, sir?”
“Yes,” he answered dismissively, “Go stand watch outside.”
The Marines snapped off their salutes, “Yes, Admiral.”
He watched them go, ensuring the door slid shut behind them before he turned to the council that had gathered in the conference room. They were a handful of the most powerful people in the worlds, and yet, it seemed some of them lacked the stomach. “Are you certain we can trust those men, Reeter?”
“Are you questioning the loyalty of my men, General Quentin?” Reeter noticed the sweat under the man’s collar. It was all too obvious his shallow interest was only self-interest. The sight of death for this cause, the sight of the bullet hole in that spy’s chest, it blanched his face with fear. He was not a true believer, but for now, he did just fine as a pawn. Most of the men at this table were only pawns, meant to serve their purpose.
Quentin swallowed and tugged at the stiff collar of his uniform. “Even you must admit that the loyalty of Command’s forces is fragmented.” Reeter had won the majority of them over, but it was a slight majority, and the military was not a democracy. Most of those soldiers would not be loyal enough to disobey a superior officer for Reeter’s cause. “General Clarke knows what you’re up to-“
Reeter slammed his hands onto crystalline tabletop, “Clarke is an old fool. His spy is dead in the closet. He cannot begin to understand our goals.” They were going to save the worlds. The cost that came with that was acceptable. He was willing to make the necessary exchange, even if all of his predecessors had not had the courage. He would succeed where they had failed. It was his destiny.
Clarke was not what they had come to discuss. That old man couldn’t comprehend their true goals. No, they had come to finalize the plans for the most pivotal week of their entire movement. He would allow nothing to go wrong. “Is this room secure?” He asked the woman on his right.
She smiled, an easy smile. “Of course it is.” As if I would give up my little game so early. The handsome Charleston Reeter had much to learn in the ways of the worlds. Every creature at that table had their own intentions. Not a single one of them believed in Reeter’s so-called destiny to save the worlds, but they would play along while it suited them.
He briefly rested his eyes upon her pretty face and unnaturally white hair, but said nothing to it. Her efforts earned her just a smile, a smile young women across space fawned over, but one that meant nothing to her. This was all no more than a means to an end.
Reeter turned back to the weaselly face of the man who had questioned him. “My men are loyal, Quentin.” Reeter said, “I cannot help that Clarke has his loyal few, but they are just that, few and far between. Command’s ships, troops and bases are under my direction.” The most powerful militarized force in the galaxy was his to control.
“The beating heart of the Fleet Admiral indicates otherwise.” Heads turned to the largest man in the room, “Half of Command’s forces are too afraid to turn. Out of fear for their souls they will not betray Admiral Gi-“
“Do not speak that name in my presence.” The room fell silent, waiting for the inevitable eruption, but Reeter smoothed his perfectly parted hair and the red eventually faded from his face. Not even Quentin was reckless enough to bring up that man in his presence, and it was clear the man who had regretted his boldness.
“Hommer is right.” Another man broke the silence, unafraid, “Our plans are accelerating. Within a month, we will have full control over the government, the military and the masses. I’ve seen your plans to deal with the brother, but I should not need to tell you who the real problem is.”
“Ramseyer,” Reeter’s emerald eyes settled upon the man’s unassuming middle-aged face, “I have told you before, he will not pose an issue.” The Secretary of Defense would be dead within the day and the older brother would be soon to follow.
Ramseyer crossed his arms across his suit, “You’ll forgive me if your losing streak against his antique dreadnaught is somehow not encouraging.” It was pathetic really, that this self-proclaimed messiah would hold onto such vehemence. “Against the Fleet Admiral, you’re zero to ten.” Years of training, years of plotting, and he was still somehow outmaneuvered without fail. “The title of Fleet Admiral goes to the fleet’s best tactician, and there’s a reason it isn’t yours, Reeter. The Steel Prince is not to be taken lightly.” Murmurs of approval sounded around the table.
Reeter narrowed his eyes at his partner, the man who planned the public actions of this movement. Ramseyer’s pin stripe suit was just a shade of gray off the one he’d worn yesterday, unassuming and forgettable, just the way politicians liked it. “Plans are in motion.” He stated simply. “And you would do best to remember that he is no prince. He is a vile, nearsighted man, one who houses not one single scrap of loyalty or imagination.”
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“Prince or not, do not underestimate him.” Quentin spoke, “You would not be the first to make that mistake. Bear in mind for many, it was their last.” The New Era touted intoxicating ideas, havens of plentiful wealth and power, but Quentin was one of so very few who remembered the hells of the past. It had not been so long ago that he could forget the mass graves overfilled with dead.
They were so near victory. Years of complacency, of patience would soon pay off. How could his accomplices bow out now? “Do you fear him, General Quentin?” Reeter asked, sensing undesirable hesitation. Did they fear the man who had brought the worlds to their knees?
“You would be wrong not to.” The white-haired woman by Reeter’s side spoke again, “He is quite the interesting specimen.” They spoke of a soldier with no honor, a leader with no followers, and a man who obeyed no heart. Reeter might read that as fascination, but to her it was nothing more than curiosity. “The Flagship Olympia, regarded as the most powerful ship ever built, a wonder of modern engineering, is superior in every way, but the Prince’s dilapidating dreadnaught has six hundred times more kills.” It was a discrepancy so large, the relative ages of ships mattered not. “A sane man would be driven mad by that.” So much death. There were days she wondered if selecting Reeter for this task had been the wrong choice.
”Enough.” Reeter commanded, “Regardless of his once fearsome reputation, he is but an obstacle to be removed and will be taken care of. Even if I do not manage to kill him outright, there will be blood in the water. The moment the worlds smell it, they will turn on him and tear him apart… As if they don’t smell it already.” A grave had already been dug for the once great Steel Prince. “He lost his mind years ago.”
“That may be true, but he is still plenty dangerous.” Ramseyer said, never more certain that Reeter was underestimating that threat. “He is one of the most dangerous people who could possibly oppose us, and at this point, one of the last. Your promises to deal with him have been empty. He still breathes, and as long as he does so, he will continue to instill fear into your forces. Tell me, do you even know where he is?”
Reeter’s anger rose, but anger awarded nothing. He turned to face the tall windows of the conference room. “He’s out there.” Out somewhere in the glittering stars. “No matter what he did or did not tell Command, I know how to find him.” He would put an end to this soon. “He will sink.” Him and that entire rotten battleship of his. “The Steel Prince’s reign is over. It is time for a New Era.”
The worlds bowed to such charisma. His loyal followers and goons were unabashedly made to live and breathe by such clever words and his perfect smile. The fellows in the room were unaffected. It was clear enough that Reeter did not have access to the Fleet Admiral’s current whereabouts. “End him or he will end you, Reeter,” Ramseyer said coolly. “I have seen you at his mercy too many times to believe you can take him in a fair fight, even with that pretty flagship on your side. All those times he humiliated you, he could have easily killed you. He may have become passive in these recent years, but do not mistake that for inability. Remember there is a reason that your predecessors fell dead at his feet.”
Charleston Reeter hated the doubt. Did they think him incapable because he usually kept his hands clean? That was nothing more than a formality. The mass populations of the worlds were squeamish. They didn’t want to see the man they idolized up to his elbows in blood. They simply wanted to see him effortlessly take charge, no matter what went on behind the scenes. “I am capable of the task.” He assured.
These leaders were different types of fools. They didn’t understand what the affection of the populace was worth. To them, a little messy was the nature of the job, but not to him. Worlds rose and fell on the orders of the men they adored. They worshipped the ground below the feet of men who knew how to play their emotions like flutes. The affection of humanity could make him a god, but their hate could tear him to shreds. “Do not doubt me because I am not the monster that the Steel Prince was.” That was the point. He walked the fine line of mass media and popularity while goons like his Marines did the dirty work.
Hommer frowned, “That monster was the most successful ship commander to come out of the Dead Years.”
“Because he killed more people than anyone else.” Quentin spat.
“Enough!” Reeter yelled, silencing them both. He had no time to listen to the two Generals bicker back and forth. “I know what the problem is here. You’re afraid of him. You’re all afraid of him.” Filthy cowards, all of them. “You’re afraid because you know if he decided to go public, he could take each and every one of you down in political flames.” He’d done it before. “But not this time. This time, he dies before he says anything.” Not that the worlds would have believed the old soldier these days anyway. The Prince had made choices that had rendered him a fool. “Not even he can stop us now.” It would be over by the end of the week, the coup just as swift, just as fast as a gust of solar wind.
“What makes you so sure he would try?”
Reeter looked over to her. Was that intrigue he read in those cold eyes? “He lost his mind out in the abyss. I cannot know what he will and will not do.” Why did she show so much interest? “His knowledge makes him dangerous. He will be eliminated, that is unless you wish to protest?” How could she? She was helping him kill the Prince.
He was jealous. The little messiah was jealous. The emotion was most unbefitting of a man with such high ambitions. “Do not worry, Charleston.” She purred, noticing the attention of the others at the table, “I am as loyal to you as I am to humanity.” She was the one who had led him to his destiny, the one who had led him to believe he would be a hero. He should not question her, but he was only human, and he lusted after her power.
This would prove an interesting experiment. She looked to these power-hungry fellows, “I must merely wonder how long it will take each of you to lose your minds in the Prince’s position.” Humanity was not yet fit to determine who lived and who died. The Prince had proved that to them all. It would have been interesting to dissect him, to find where he had broken, to realize what had rendered him weak.
“Do not compare me to him.” Reeter growled, “I will save these worlds where he failed to. I am not like him.”
“Oh, but how similar you are.” She smiled pityingly, “Why is it you think I chose you?”