While Zayd recovered from his extensive modification, Lady Nimue gathered the remaining leaders of the Spear of Destiny for an important conversation.
Priestess Eirian sprawled languidly on a set of cushions across a low table from the only noble-winged Fae in the room. Those who knew her well could see the telltale signs of exhaustion in the droop of her ears and the half-lowered lids of her cat-like eyes. Still, while Lady Nimue’s new Champion consumed much of her attention lately, it didn’t mean that she could neglect her other duties to her Lady and the crew of the ship. The loss of the Spear of Destiny’s chief medical researcher had left the Priestess carrying double duty to supervise the treatment of wounded shipmates as well as tending to their more spiritual needs. Thankfully, Lady Nimue had never been a stickler for protocol with her innermost circle and she could relax without feeling the pressure of keeping up appearances.
“Eirian, you’ve worked hard since getting your hands on my new Champion,” Lady Nimue said, her eyes taking in the all too familiar signs of her trusted advisor approaching her limits. Even with modern stimulants, there was a limit to how much a flesh and blood body could be deprived of rest and the priestess was rapidly approaching hers. “Tell me that you have time to sleep after this meeting.”
“I do, my Lady,” she said with a slow smile. “I’m not sure whether the relic helped us today or fought us today, but either way, your new Champion, Zayd, proved himself up to the challenge. While his physical circumstances aren’t ideal, his mental resilience is beyond impressive. Off the tip of my ears, I could name half a dozen members of your mother’s own personal guard who couldn’t come through what he just experienced without extreme mental distress. Once his body catches up to his mind, you’ll have a terrifying weapon at your disposal.”
“Preparing Lady Nimue’s new champion is important, but please remember that there are others working through this crisis as well,” the room’s third occupant said as he observed Eirian’s exhaustion. Sitting between the two women, at nearly two meters tall, the lavender-haired gentleman dressed in the inky black and silver uniform of a ship’s captain was the oldest Fae in the room. Captain Aglaral had started his service to the House of Gael before Lady Nimue’s birth and he’d spent much of the past century in space, ensuring that promising young scions of the noble house benefited from an experienced elder attendant at hand as they began their explorations of the galaxy. Despite his advancing age, his pale skin remained smooth and unlined and his deep citrine eyes were as sharp as they’d ever been as he examined the holographic display of the star system they were currently stranded in. “You do not need to shoulder more of the burden than you are capable of.”
“Thank you, Captain, for your concern,” Eirian said, a touch more formally than she intended but her mind was struggling to manage her usual eloquence or subtlety. “Perhaps we should move on to other topics? I would take it as a favor if we could move on from this one,” she said, losing her battle to keep up appearances as exhaustion dragged at her.
“You’re right,” Lady Nimue said, turning to the last person in the room. “Flight Leader, what news have your teams gathered?”
“Our scouting parties have returned from the last of the human camps on this planet, My Lady,” the last man in the chamber said, diplomatically pretending that the exchange with Priestess Eirian hadn’t happened and moving directly to the most important news he had. Flight Leader Agravain looked like he should still be in a healing chamber but stubborn pride kept the ashen-haired, emerald-eyed Fae warrior on his feet. He imagined that he and the priestess made quite the pair at the moment. Perhaps the two combined amounted to a single effective officer but neither of them would take rest easily until the crisis was resolved.
The ravages of a Beithioch bio-weapon could still be seen in the scarred, greenish flesh that covered his left hand along with the left side of his neck and lower jaw but the stalwart soldier pushed through the pain of his lingering injuries to continue performing what duties he could. “Unfortunately, it seems like our fears were well founded. By the time our assault teams returned from the human’s outer system fortifications, they had stripped anything of use or value from their camps on the surface and moved in-system to their larger orbital installation. We can continue with hull repairs and other system repairs, but we won’t be able to repair the ship’s hyperdrive without either excavating and processing ore ourselves or raiding it from the human’s refining station.”
“If I’d realized that their defensive stations were so pathetic, I wouldn’t have wasted time on them,” Lady Nimue said sourly. “No, that’s not true. I still would have made the same decision. After the damage the Beithioch did, we couldn’t risk the possibility of an unpleasant surprise. It still leaves us in an unfortunate position. Captain, once we retrieve the materials we need, how rapidly can your crew get us out of this star system?”
“Depending on the quality of the refinement these humans were capable of, we should be able to return to space within five to seven days once we’ve received the materials, My Lady,” the older man said confidently. “However, if we are to believe the transmissions from the humans, they will be dispatching a ‘rescue fleet’ to extract their workers from their remaining orbital station and potentially retake the planet if they feel they have sufficient strength.”
“How soon should we expect this fleet to arrive?” Priestess Eirian asked. She was already pressing hard on Zayd’s training and acclimation but if he couldn’t be ready in time to prevent them from facing a greater threat then she couldn’t hold back on the assault to wait for him. “Do we know anything about the strength of this fleet?”
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“The humans are commanded by someone who identified himself as ‘Assistant Operations Director Emir Quan,’” the captain said, waving his hand at a projection to conjure a hologram of a sausage-like individual with deeply set eyes and a soft jaw. “In the transmissions we’ve intercepted, he’s been very insistent that they send a large enough force to recapture the planet and to hold it against future assault. He appears to have convinced his superiors that we’re an advanced scout for a greater invasion,” the captain said with a dark chuckle. “It seems like his family line is important, though he may only be a branch member of his house, he’s threatened several times to involve both his father and his grand-uncle if his superiors don’t send a large enough force. That works both for us and against us. The insistence on a larger force has resulted in delays assembling it, but when it arrives, even if their mechs are primitive compared to our own, we could find ourselves outnumbered one hundred to one.”
As much as the captain currently disdained the local human’s limited technology, he didn’t dare underestimate the combination of their superior numbers and his own command’s diminished capacity. If the Spear of Destiny were undamaged with a full crew and complement of mechs, he would laugh at the way their current plans danced around direct confrontation but at the moment his pride came in far behind his priorities to safeguard Lady Nimue and the relic they’d spent so many lives to retrieve. He owed it to her and to the fallen to take every threat seriously, even if his caution turned out to be overblown.
“Flight Leader, how many men are still combat-worthy right now, and how many more can be ready if we have an additional ten days?” Lady Nimue asked.
“My Lady, we can presently field just over one fist in an assault if we retain a minimum of one fist of soldiers in reserve to defend you and the Spear of Destiny. I actually have enough soldiers who can fight to form two fists but your new Champion’s action of hurling one of his allies mechs onto several of our soldiers resulted in significant damage to their combat armor. Priestess Eirian,” Agravian said, looking at the almost dozing priestess with a faint smile on his thin lips. “When you have the opportunity to, would you ask our Champion if the pilot of the mech he used as a shotput had offended him somehow? I would hate to see him decide that the best use for one of my soldiers is to kill them himself so he can hurl their body at the enemy.”
“I doubt your soldiers will have any problems with Zayd,” she said easily. “Our guardians aren’t stupid enough to gather ‘round the brightest light and shame it for making them feel dimmer.”
“I’ll be sure to pass that along,” the Flight Leader replied before returning to Lady Nimue’s question. “In ten days, I can have enough combat armor repaired for a complete wing with one or two to spare. In twelve days, I’ll have enough men out of healing pods to utilize all of the weapons and armor we can repair. Unfortunately, my own injuries will keep me out of the cockpit of a mech no matter how long we wait. Until we can get to a proper medical facility, I’m afraid that I cannot personally fight with more than small arms,” he finished, bowing his head in shame.
“Priestess Eirian? How about my Champion?” Lady Nimue asked with a raised brow. “Will he be able to fight for us?”
“I believe that he will,” Eirian said with a slight smile. “He has survived extensive modification, we’ve grafted a substantial amount of Fae organs in place of his natural anatomy and he should survive at least the next several months despite the instability in the augmentation,” she explained. “I believe that he will become even stronger after he completes this raid and has a chance to further awaken his power.”
“And how strong will he become after this mission?” Lady Nimue asked pointedly. “Strong enough to face one hundred to one odds?”
“I have no idea, My Lady,” Eirian replied honestly. “We know too little about the extraordinary properties of the relic he’s bonded with. It is possible that he could resist the ‘rescue fleet’ single-handedly but it is far more likely that he’ll need months to grow into his power.”
“You said he only had a few months to live given the unstable nature of his augmentation didn’t you?” Captain Aglaral asked, his neatly shaped brows pressing together as he frowned. “Do you think the relic can give him any more time than that? I have low confidence in making a direct transit across the Bay of Dorado without making far more extensive repairs to our drive than we’re capable of without help from a proper shipyard. Will he live long enough for us to take a careful route back to Imperial space?”
“He won’t,” Eirian said flatly. “He’ll die within six months. The best option we have is to go somewhere other than Imperial Space where we can still get repairs. My Lady,” the priestess said, forcing herself to sit straighter as she made a dangerous proposal. “I’d like to recommend that our next jump when we get away from this world is to the Alessi Teutsch cluster. The Temple of Evolutionary Ascension is not without resources there.”
“You’re mad!” Flight Leader Agravain protested, his ears twitching rapidly in agitation. “My Lady, we have no treaties with the Alessi Hunters. If we cannot defeat their champions, we won’t be docking for repairs, we’ll be delivering ourselves to their slave auctions as merchandise.”
“My Lady,” Priestess Eirian said confidently. “Have faith in the Champion you’ve selected. He has more potential that we can wring from his body and spirit than most Fae twice his age. The Alessi Hunters are skilled and savage but we have a savage of our own to employ against them. We will not suffer a loss.”
“I cannot make any decisions about our next destination until our drive repairs are complete,” Lady Nimue said with a shake of her head. “Push as hard as you need to in order to meet our original timeline for an assault on this orbital station,” she commanded. “I’ll make a decision about our next destination once we can actually get off this filthy world. We have survived the Beithioch. I refuse to believe that we have so little capability that a bunch of greedy, un-evolved, Original Stock humans with their indentured mercenaries can defeat us but if we do not exert every effort then we will deserve our demise. Show me that you are the most worthy of our crew and that your survival was not an accident.”
“Your will, My Lady,” the gathered Fae responded. One way or another, they would rise above this moment and they would return home with their ship, its crew, the relic they’d plundered, and most importantly, their liege lady. To do anything less was unacceptable.