C
Chapter Thirty
Tantos System
On Tantos III, as on Aurann, unrest was stirring. Duchess Kallistrae, as instructed by Naudar and Sateira, had presented a public message to her people, disavowing her previous message calling for action and insisting that Tantans submit to their occupiers and in time all would be well. Her delivery, however, had been so stiff and lifeless that few had found it compelling; many guessed, rightly so, that she had been forced into making this speech and it didn’t reflect her actual wishes. That the duchess, like her people, was a captive only seemed to fan the flames of resistance and give the people a symbol to rally around; rather than being quelled, acts of rebellion increased. Aurannian troopers and guild security officers found themselves attacked if they ventured too far into Tantos City alone, and several guild offices were mysterious burned. Rebellious slogans began appearing on the sides of buildings, of which “Free Kallistrae!” and “Down with Aurann!” were the least inflammatory.
Duke Respen had returned from his strike at Katanes having brought further reinforcements from Aurann; the fleets of the three rebel dukes, supported by allied guild personnel, filled the skies above Tantos III. Out in the farther reaches of the system, however, the loyalist forces had also swelled, with additional forces from Carann, Orlanes, and Laodamia’s duchy of Nadar and Vashata’s duchy of Malakan joined by the new arrival of Duke Menandrus of Kern and his fleet. Between them, they represented a significant proportion of the military strength of the Dozen Stars, though Aurann’s forces were large enough, with Sakran’s not far behind, that this didn’t represent an insurmountable advantage of numbers.
Still, Duke Marbodan thought, he had a few cards left to play, and he had received a number of messages in the past day that bolstered his resolve. One was from Pakorus, insisting that he had returned to Carann and had news that was for Artakane’s ears alone; that his son was alive and unharmed filled the duke with a new fire. The other messages gave him hope that this conflict would soon turn in his favor, and against his enemies. Taking this information into account, he drew his plans and conferred with his fellow dukes, and they determined that the time was now. The loyalist fleet broke from the orbit it had maintained and began to move towards Tantos III.
The rebels rose to meet them, their warships fanning out above the planet in a wave of steel, with Sakran in the middle and Aurann and Tashir on either side. The rebel dukes had left the planet’s surface to take personal command, leaving the occupation under the direction of Guildmaster Madran. On the bridge of Right to Rule Duke Respen eagerly awaited for the coming of the battle and the imminent fulfilment of his destiny, though in the back of his mind doubt gnawed at him that he’d had no communication from Aurann for several days and he wondered what it might portend. On Sun-Sword Duchess Sateira sat back in her chair, pleased at this distraction from the worsening situation on Tantos III, and knowing that if she and her allies could defeat Mardoban here, the insurrection wouldn’t matter, and the Dozen Stars would be theirs. And on the Pride of Sakran Duke Naudar sat forward, tapping the head of his cane with one finger as he anticipated his young allies burning themselves out, leaving an empty throne for his taking, and he summoned his three children.
///
Kallistrae lay back in her bed, but she couldn’t sleep. She and Mardoban had been passing messages back and forth through the mech he’d subverted, and she though none of her jailers had come to see her, she knew that today would be the battle that would decide the fate of her duchy, and perhaps of the entire Kingdom. She knew what her role in this drama was to be but waiting for it to begin galled her; she was a woman of action, and one not given to resting when there was fighting to be done. Still, if there was one thing she’d learned during her imprisonment, it was patience.
The door to her apartment hissed open and Kallistrae sat up expectantly. Serving mechs drifted in, carrying several large covered trays, which they then dropped unceremoniously at her feet. Taking the lids off each in turn, she found that they contained the pieces of her armor – and, underneath a heavy cloth, her dueling sword. The duchess’s breath caught in her throat in anticipation. It was time.
One of the mechs’ holoprojectors shimmered to life, and Mardoban’s image appeared in front of her. “I can’t talk long,” he said. “We’re preparing to engage the enemy. Most of their forces are in space now; you know what to do. Lord’s grace be with you.”
“And you,” Kallistrae murmured as the holo vanished. Quickly she strapped on her armor with the ease of long practice and belted the sword at her side. Then, with the mechs floating behind her, she marched to her door and turned the handle; the lock clicked open. “Thank you, Mardoban,” she muttered.
The two guild security guards who stood watch outside spun to face her; their shock evident even behind their opaque faceplates. They raised their beam rifles but Kallistrae didn’t give them time to fire; her sword came up, energy crackling along its length; there was a flash of light, and both guards crumpled. Kallistrae walked on without breaking her stride, the mechs following her like an honor guard.
With the mechs tied into the palace tower’s surveillance system, Kallistrae was able to evade the security patrols and reach a lift that took her down to the tower’s prison level. There she found more guards waiting at a desk in front of the main cellblock, and once again, the sight of her took them by surprise and she cut them down effortlessly. With a wave of her hand, she ordered her mechs to plug into the computer system, and within seconds every door in the prison sprang open; the corridors flooded with Kallistrae’s loyal knights, officers and troops.
“Your Grace,” Kallistrae’s cousin Bastias said, stepping towards her with an expression of wonder on his face. “How did this happen?”
“No time to explain,” she said. “Grab your weapons and gear and arm yourselves as fast as you can. We’re taking back Tantos today.”
Bastias saluted. “With pleasure, Your Grace!” he shouted, and hurriedly did as commanded. Less than fifteen minutes later, a squad of loyal soldiers and knights had formed up, ready to fight for their duchy. Kallistrae smiled at the sight. She was a poor politician and a worse merchant, but she knew how to lead and how to fight – and today, she and everyone under her command had a score to settle.
Splitting up, they moved through the palace’s lower levels and each group took a separate lift up to the administrative levels. As Kallistrae had suspected, when they stepped out into the lobby there were more security troops waiting for them there, but they had received no warning of a prison break, nor were they expecting loyalist Tantos forces to suddenly poor from the doors of every lift. Kallistrae snapped her transparent faceplate in place and raised her sword before leading the charge straight into the massed security troops. Beam rifles spat and dueling swords hissed and sparked, and when all was done the guildsmen had broken, those who still stood either fleeing or throwing down their arms.
Kallistrae left Bastias to see to the guildsmen who had surrendered and marched up to a pair of ornate double doors at the end of the lobby, which she kicked in and marched through. There, seated at the large, intricately decorated desk that had been her cousin Hiram’s and, for a brief time, her own, sat Gaspar Madran, Security Guildmaster. The balding man gave a panicked yell and leaped to his feet, pulling a beam pistol from where he’d concealed it beneath the desk. He raised the weapon and fired, but Kallistrae’s sword pulled the bolt towards it and absorbed it harmlessly; before he could fire again, she struck the pistol from his hand. Madran fell back into his chair, eyes wide.
“What… how… where did you come from?” he spluttered.
Kallistrae smirked. “I’ve been here all along,” she said. “It’s my duchy, after all, not yours and certainly not Respen’s or Naudar’s or Sateira’s. She was the one who bought you off, right? Well, I’m afraid your payments aren’t coming for a good long while. But if you’re wondering exactly how I got here in this room, right now,” she gestured towards the serving mechs as they drifted in, “I had help.”
“I don’t understand,” Madran muttered. “Naudar and Sateira were sure you were up to something, but my people searched your rooms! You didn’t have a computer, or a secure dataport, or any means of communication! And you’re no Adept.”
“No, but I have friends,” Kallistrae said. “When Artakane was here – when you betrayed her and she just barely escaped, I’ll add – her aide managed to plant a device on one of these mechs that altered its programming and allowed Duke Mardoban to control it. That mech then began spreading the altered program to every mech in the tower – and from there, into the mainframe itself. We compromised your entire network, Guildmaster – or rather, I took back my network. By the time I left my rooms this morning, the entire palace was on my side. And with what’s probably going on in orbit, I think you’ll not be able to count on any help from your friends any time soon; they’re a bit preoccupied.”
“Fine,” Madran said, holding up his hands. “You win. I was never in this for their rebellion; Sateira made me an offer that was too good to say no to, but I know when I’m beaten. Whatever you want to know about them, I’ll tell you – just spare me, is all I ask.”
“Oh, I’m sure that you and I are going to have plenty to talk about later, Gaspar,” Kallistrae said. “But for now…” Turning on him suddenly, she punched him square in the face. Madran fell to the floor, swearing and holding his nose. “That was for everyone you and your Security Guild killed when putting down that riot last year.”
Leaving the Guildmaster cursing in pain behind her, Kallistrae stood in front of one of the mechs and activated its holo-recorder. “Transmit this message on every channel,” she ordered; the mech flashed a red light in acknowledgment. “People of Tantos,” Kallistrae began. “You know who I am, and I know who you are. I know you have little reason to trust or like my family, but I promise you, I am not my forbears or my cousin. For too long, House ast Tantos has surrendered itself to the Guilds – the Guilds who claim to represent the voice of the people, but who have in truth in their pursuit of profit worked you mercilessly, subverted your Assembly, and then when war came to our world, sold you out to the tyrants Sateira, Naudar, and Respen. Too long has House ast Tantos turned a blind eye, so long as our own comforts were not threatened. Today, that ends. Join with me, sons and daughters of Tantos, for the time has come to rise up! Our enemies have spread themselves too thin, and the time to strike is now! I speak to you from the palace tower, which is now back in my control, and I call on you to take back our world, from the occupiers, from the Guilds – and then to build a new Tantos III, one where neither the guilds nor the aristocracy shall oppress the people again! Rise and fight – rise and fight, for a free Tantos! And I will fight with you!”
Even through the high walls of the tower, and over the outraged mutterings of the Guildmaster, Kallistrae thought she could hear her people cheering – and taking up the call to arms.
///
Duke Naudar ast Sakran sat in his command chair aboard Pride of Sakran, leaning forward intently as he watched the holoimage of the battle unfolding before him. His bad leg was paining him again; the old war wound always seemed to act up when battle was at hand, and Naudar had never been entirely sure whether the effect was real or just in his head. It didn’t matter, in any case; at his age his days of charging into battle with sword held high would have largely been behind him with or without the injury. These days he won battles from the bridge of a warship, not from the front lines; his weapon was his mind, not his sword or gun.
And he intended to win this one. His allies’ forces held position above Tantos III, with Aurann’s ships to one side and Tashir’s to the other and Sakran’s in the middle. The loyalists were approaching now and were spreading out, hoping to catch the rebels in a pincher; Naudar clucked disapprovingly. Mardoban had miscalculated; he didn’t have the numbers to spread his ships so thin and sustain fire across the entire front. The rebels would break his lines and scatter them, and that would be the end of Duke Mardoban ast Orlanes and of organized military support for Artakane’s reign. The road to Carann would be clear.
“I’m terribly sorry about this, old friend,” Naudar murmured to himself as he watched the loyalists come into range and the first cannon blasts exchanged between the two fleets – for the moment, just testing each other’s defenses. “But you chose the wrong side this time.” Respen had assured Naudar and Sateira that Artakane herself had been neutralized; Darius had confirmed to his father that they’d taken the Baron ast Katanes hostage and the price for his return was the queen’s abdication. Mardoban was the last obstacle, then, and his defeat would clear the way to victory. Naudar knew what Respen and Sateira planned; Respen would declare himself king and marry Sateira to cement the alliance between their duchies. Let them play at it, Naudar thought. Respen was cruel and would make the people of Carann hate him, and Sateira was too selfish to bother restraining him. If he was lucky, they’d kill each other off for him, for neither of them was the sort who would easily share power with another; even if not, they would drive the Kingdom into the ground and then when things were at their worst, Naudar would turn against them and overthrow them, becoming a hero in the Kingdom’s eyes, rather than a traitor. His reign – and his dynasty – would be assured. So, he and his secretive benefactor had planned.
The sound of footsteps roused Naudar from his reflections; he turned to see Darius crossing the bridge, Tariti and Galen behind him. “Excellent,” Naudar said, waving them over. “You have arrived just in time to see our triumph.” He gestured towards the holoimage of the battle. “See, Mardoban doesn’t have the strength to break our lines, not with how he’s spread his forces. But we can press against him. See, there’s Lion of Carann almost in our reach. All we have to do is break through his escort and we have him.”
“Father,” Darius said, his expression serious. “We need to talk.”
Naudar grunted. “It can wait,” he said. “I’m in the middle of something rather important.”
“Not more important than this,” Darius said; Naudar turned to look at him, and he knew his oldest son well enough to tell that he was troubled; behind him, his siblings shared his concern. Naudar frowned – he did not have time for this now – but something told him that Darius wouldn’t have interrupted him mid-battle if he didn’t think whatever was concerning him was urgent.
“Well, what is it?” he asked.
“Father,” Darius said, “you know that we captured Artakane’s adopted father with the intention of using him as leverage to force her to abdicate. Were you aware that Duke Respen had threatened to slaughter the entirety of Tantos Duchy – a war crime unprecedented in the history of our Kingdom – if she refused to comply?”
Naudar raised an eyebrow. “Not specifically,” he said. “But it doesn’t surprise me. The man’s a maniac. But it won’t come to that. Artakane is softhearted; she’ll give in. It’s only a matter of time.”
“And if she doesn’t?” Tariti asked. “What if you’ve misjudged her, Father?”
“Then Respen can try to kill a whole Duchy if he wants; I doubt he can manage it,” Naudar said. “I knew the risks when I allied myself with such a man. But it will only give me the more ammunition I’ll need to depose him in the end.” Across the bridge, several officers looked uncertain at that, but Naudar paid them no mind; he had a battle to win and a son to instruct. Everyone else could wait.
“Are you really that willing to ally with someone that evil in the short term just because you’ll win in the long term?” Darius asked, voice hard. “Where’s the honor in that, Father?”
Naudar scoffed. “Darius, honor an invention of storytellers and historians trying to clean up the past, make everything seem loftier and less dirty than it really was. It has no place in the real world, save for appearances, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to ensure our dynasty’s future in the long-term, even if it means giving Respen enough rope to let him hang himself. You’ll understand better one day, when you’re king.”
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“Whatever it takes?” Darius asked, and Naudar had the feeling he was reaching a point he’d been building to this entire conversation. “Does that include selling out the Kingdom to the Empire?”
Naudar went cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
“I think you do,” Darius said. “You know I overheard you talking with someone over the holo just after we took Tantos. Respen said he’d been promised a crown; Artakane said all three of you were working with the Empire. Is it true, Father? I’m your son, and your heir, and I think you owe me honesty. Is it true?”
Naudar was silent for a long moment, then let out a long, shuddering breath. “Yes,” he said. “I didn’t know for certain that our ally was Imperial, but I suspected it; the resources and intelligence he was funneling to us seemed unlikely to have any other source. But he is my ally, not my master. I sold out nothing; once I am on the throne, he won’t matter any longer.”
“Except that you’ll be in his debt,” Galen said, speaking for the first time. “Do you really think he’ll let you go, Father? Is that how the great Naudar ast Sakran will end, a fly in the Empire’s web? You always taught me to win, no matter the cost, Father – I respected that about you. But it seems to me that you’ve bitten off more than you can chew now and gotten yourself entangled with our worst enemies. I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t sound like winning anything to me.”
“Father,” Tariti said, “you know the Empire has never forgiven the Dozen Stars for rebelling against them; they’ve always seen our Kingdom as theirs, and they want it back. What possibly could have made you think this alliance was a good idea? Isn’t the fact that they also backed people like Respen and Sateira, who would be little more than tyrants, evidence enough? They don’t want a strong ruler in the Dozen Stars; they want to see our Kingdom burn.”
“Can’t you see, this is madness?” Darius asked. “No matter what happens today, we can’t win. Whether to Mardoban or Respen or the Empire, House ast Sakran is going to lose. You’ve gambled, and you’ve lost.”
“Not yet,” Naudar said. “I have plans you haven’t even guessed yet, boy. If you think I’m beaten, then you’re a fool.”
“There was a time I would have trusted in that,” Darius said sadly. “But no more. As heir to Sakran Duchy, I hereby invoke my right to have you declared unfit for office. Step down, Father. It’s over.”
Naudar barked a harsh laugh. “Really?” he asked. “You need the support of House ast Sakran and ranking officers of our duchy to invoke that right. Do you have it?”
“He has the first,” Tariti said. “House ast Sakran stands with Darius.”
“And he has the second, too,” another voice said, and Andros ast Vistus, captain of Pride of Sakran said, stepping forward with a pair of armed marines behind him. “Lord Darius told me what he was going to do; I didn’t believe him, but I said I’d listen. Your Grace, you have damned yourself by your own words. Your son is right; this is madness, and I’ve lost my appetite for war with our own people. Stand down.”
Naudar looked from the captain to his children and back again, feeling as though he’d just been struck. “Darius,” he finally said. “I was doing this all for you; you must understand that! I wanted to make our house a royal dynasty that would endure for centuries – you would have been a king, if you’d have let me make you one!”
Darius’s expression was hard. “Tell me, Father,” he said, “when did I ever give you the slightest indication that I actually wanted that? Your projected your own ambitions onto me, but I’m not you. None of us are.” He nodded towards Captain ast Vistus. “I’m taking command. Please escort Duke Naudar from the bridge.”
“As you command – Your Grace,” the captain said; his marines seized Naudar by the arms and hauled him to his feet, his cane clattering to the floor.
“This is a mistake, son,” Naudar said. “One you’ll rue someday soon.”
“I can live with myself, Father,” Darius said. “I don’t know if you can say the same.” He turned back to the captain. “Open a comm line to Lion of Carann; tell Duke Mardoban that Sakran fights for the Dozen Stars.”
“At once, Your Grace,” ast Vistus said, saluting sharply. Before he could do so, a shout came up from across the bridge.
“Captain, Your Grace!” the officer called. “We have a squadron of ships emerging from jump; at least three Equestrians and several smaller escort ships. They’re transmitting Aurannian ID signals.”
Naudar smirked. “It seems Respen had another card to play, at least,” he said. “Are you still so confident you made the right choice, son?”
Darius surprised him by smiling. “I think you’ll be surprised.”
///
As Sun’s Fury emerged from jump, Arta saw the battle unfolding in front of her and her breath caught in her throat. Even on the warship’s holodisplay, the scope of the battle was immense, more ships than she’d ever seen in one place before; they were exchanging beam cannon fire and several ships seemed to have already been destroyed. They loyalist forces outnumbered the rebels slightly, but the rebels were clustered together more tightly while the loyalists tried to envelop them, which their numbers didn’t seem sufficient to do. Already holes had been cut in the loyalist ranks.
Arta sat in the Fury’s command chair, flanked by Karani, Latharna and Digran like an honor guard. Acting-Captain Pythea, who had seized the ship from Respen’s men and lead the capture of the other two Equestrians, stood in front of her, issuing orders. Per the plan they’d worked out previously, they were still transmitting an Aurannian ID signal and slipped through the holes in the loyalist offensive and joined up with the rest of the Aurannian fleet. Right to Rule now filled their viewports, floating dead ahead.
Digran whistled. “Damn,” he said. “That’s a lot of ships.”
“Are you sure about this,” Karani asked, shaking her head.
“No battle was won without a little risk,” Arta said. Suddenly, a holoprojector shimmered into life and the image of Duke Respen appeared on the bridge; Digran growled angrily under his breath, and Latharna’s hand went to her sword.
“Sun’s Fury, you were charged with guarding Aurann,” Respen’s image said, anger clearly written across his face. “Why have you disobeyed my orders? Where is Captain ast Myrtus? I demand to speak to him at once!”
“Captain ast Myrtus is indisposed,” Arta said, echoing Pythea’s words from Aurann. “This ship currently flies under the colors of Free Aurann, and for the moment has been leant to the Crown as a gesture of goodwill. I trust you’ve recognized by now to whom you are speaking.”
Respen’s expression of shock was almost comical; clearly, his own ships flying under the command of his enemy was something he had never imagined. “How?” he finally asked. “You dare to commandeer my own vessels? Stupid girl; your father will pay for your treachery.”
“Treachery?” Arta asked. “You’re one to talk, Respen – you brought civil war to this Kingdom, tried to kill me under a flag of truce, attacked my home, kidnapped my father, and enslaved your own people. But as for the Baron, he’s safe and has been returned to Katanes. You have no hold over me any longer.” She flipped a switch on the command chair’s arm, broadcasting her words to the entirety of both fleets. “And you have no hold over them, either. Aurann has fallen; its people are free, no longer hostages to ensure the loyalty of your soldiers. And you, Duke Respen, are by the will of the Crown and the unanimous vote of the loyal members of the council, stripped of your title and your duchy, which have been given to a more worthy holder. You called yourself the true heir of the Dozen Stars, but you are now in the eyes of the Crown no more than an outlaw and a traitor. I call on all loyal subjects of the Dozen Stars to renounce all allegiance to the former Duke Respen and take him into custody.”
A second shimmering image appeared on the bridge; Arta recognized the handsome profile of Darius at once. “Sakran Duchy stands with the Crown,” he declared. “Duke Naudar has been removed from power, and as Acting Duke I would like to announce my deepest regret in my own role in this conflict and my desire to bring it to a speedy conclusion. Your Majesty, I am at your disposal.” The holodisplay of the battle flashed, and the dots representing the Sakran forces changed color from rebel red to loyalist blue.
“The Crown accepts your allegiance,” Arta said, fighting the urge to sink back into her chair in relief. In the two days since the fall of the Citadel, she’d been in secret communication with Duke Mardoban, drawing plans and confirming Respen’s deposing via council vote, and she’d also been told that Mardoban had received cryptic messages from someone high-placed in the Sakran forces, which he hoped he’d interpreted correctly. It seemed that he had.
Another holo appeared, this time of Duke Mardoban. “Congratulations on your safe return, Your Majesty,” the duke said. “What is the Crown’s will?”
Respen’s image was looking from Darius to Mardoban to Arta, his fists clenching and unclenching and his eyes hard. Finally, he spoke. “You think you’ve won?” he finally said. “I can defeat you all by myself! I will kill you all and burn your planets to their bedrock, so that future generations will know the cost of defying me! I spit on you all, and I reject your authority – and you, Artakane, will be the first to die!” The holo flickered and vanished.
“Charming man, isn’t he?” Karani asked.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Digran muttered.
“Your Majesty,” Acting-Captain Pythea said, “what are your orders?” Gazing out the viewport, Arta could see Right to Rule reorienting towards them, but Sun’s Fury was still protected by its fellow Equestrian warships, and by the smaller Starflares Arta had picked up from Katanes. And with the defection of the Sakran fleet, the tide of the battle had turned in the loyalists’ favor, the heart cut out of the rebels’ formation.
Arta clenched her fists and opened them again and then looked up, gaze hard. “I want all guns oriented on Right to Rule,” she said. “Send Respen to hell.”
///
The tide of the battle had indeed turned. With the defection of the Sakran fleet, the rebels had lost a third of their strength; the fleets of Aurann and Tashir were now cut off from each other, islands surrounded by enemies on all sides. Furthermore, the Aurann fleet – the more powerful of the two – was now riven by internal strife. All had heard Artakane’s message and word of the overthrow of Respen’s power on their home world, and now some of the warships’ crew and marines rose against their officers. On most of the ships the revolts were quickly put down but left them at a reduced crew; on others, the mutineers were successful, and either turned their guns on those vessels that remained loyal to Respen or else simply turned and fled.
The Tashir fleet was the weakest of the three rebel forces, for Tashir Duchy’s strength was in wealth and connections more than in ships and weapons, and this battle did not play to their strengths. The Duchess Sateira preferred to win her battles with early shows of power mixed with underhanded dealings, as she had done when she had spearheaded the capture of Tantos III; now she found herself hemmed in by enemies, forced to fight a defensive battle with her back to the wall. Sateira watched from Sun-Sword’s bridge as her forces were slowly whittled down by the combined might of the loyalists and the Sakrans, and finally she turned away and summoned Captain Karas to her side. The two shared a whispered exchange and orders were given, and then Sun-Sword and the warships closest to it turned away from the main battle. Concentrating their fire on where the loyalist line was weakest, they broke through and fled the field, preparing to jump for Tashir and safety.
Right to Rule forced its way through the battle and turned its guns upon the Sun’s Fury and the rest of the squadron that Artakane had brought with her from Aurann. The mighty ship unleashed a devastating bombardment, but the Fury’s shields still held, and it returned fire with fire, as did its companions. Now it was Right to Rule that staggered, its shields buckling under the combined firepower of three Equestrians, while the smaller, more agile Starflares slipped around them and began unleashing their surgical strikes, slowly wearing the great ship down. Still, Right to Rule did not retreat, for Duke Respen was full of fury and had resolved not to go down without taking his enemies down with him.
Suddenly another barrage erupted, this time from behind. Lion of Carann had cut through the Aurannian lines and now unleashed its firepower on Right to Rule’s engines; the warship’s shields buckled and collapsed, and then the engines were hit. Aurann’s flagship was crippled, sitting dead in space with no shields and no mobility as its enemies surrounded it on all sides.
At last, Duke Respen realized that he was defeated; he turned and sprinted from the bridge, pausing just long enough to cut down an officer who tried to get in his way, and hurried to the bay where the Rule’s escape pods were housed. He managed to launch just ahead of the other crew who fled the doomed ship and looking behind him watched as Right to Rule broke apart under sustained bombardment, its pieces falling into the thick atmosphere of Tantos III, burning as they went.
Small enough to pass unnoticed by the loyalists’ scanners, Respen’s escape pod cut through the battle and towards the vector by which Sun-Sword had escaped. There he hailed Duchess Sateira, whose warship paused in its retreat long enough to pick up the pod and bring the Duke of Aurann aboard.
///
Sateira folded her arms in contempt as she watched her soldiers escort Duke Respen onto Sun-Sword’s bridge. His hair was disheveled, as was his once-immaculate silver uniform, but he still wore a dueling sword by his side and his gaze was as hateful as ever – perhaps more so, for desperation had stripped away the man’s veneer of culture and discipline, leaving his true self bare for all to see.
“And so, the mighty Duke of Aurann comes to me now as a beggar,” she said. “I had thought you would fight for your throne to the last man, but apparently not – you fled the battle before it was done, leaving your ship and crew to their fates. What an honorable lord you are!”
“Spare me your mockery, Sateira,” Respen snapped. “You’re no better – or what do you call this, fighting to the last?”
“I call it a strategic withdrawal,” Sateira said. “Unlike you, I never claimed to be the greatest warrior in the Kingdom, and I know when I’m beaten – and I’m beaten now. I intend to return to Tashir with what is left of my fleet and sue for peace. It’ll stick in my throat to do it, but it’s the only option your incompetence and the Sakrans’ treachery have left me.”
“You dare speak so to me?” Respen demanded; his eyes were popping from his skull, and Sateira thought he looked quite mad. “I am your king, woman! We will return to Tashir, yes, but only to regroup; I will not give up the fight until Artakane the Pretender is dead and the throne of the Dozen Stars is mine, as it always should have been!”
Sateira scoffed. “You’re not my anything, Respen – certainly not my king. I can’t believe I ever thought marrying you would be a good idea. The council, including my mother, denied you the throne when Aestera died, and if this is how you handle failure, I can see why! And now you come to me with nothing but the clothes on your back, and you think you can give me orders? I called you a beggar, and that’s what you are – the Beggar Duke of Aurann! You’re worth more to me now as a hostage than as an ally. In fact, I think that’s exactly what I’ll do with you. Perhaps Artakane will look more kindly on me if I hand you over to her when I sue for pardon.” She turned and nodded to Captain Karas. “Seize him and put him in the brig. I don’t care what else you do to him, so long as he’s alive and recognizable.”
Karas nodded and gestured for his marines, who stepped forward, but Respen was faster, drawing his dueling sword and activating it. “You betray me, too?” he shouted. “Traitors, all of you! But I will not go quietly to the gallows!” Raising his blade, he charged at Sateira.
The duchess’s eyes widened in surprise and she jumped back, narrowly avoiding the blow before drawing her own blade. Dueling swords flashed and sparked as they fought back and forth across the bridge; most of the crew leapt from their seats and drew their sidearms, but didn’t fire, whether because they didn’t want to interfere with the battling nobles or simply because they didn’t want to risk hitting their duchess by mistake.
Finally, Respen found an opening; his sword passed under Sateira’s guard and, its blade hissing at full power, penetrated her gilded armor and slid between her ribs. Agony flashed through her body and gave a cry of mixed surprise and pain; Respen grinned wolfishly and yanked his sword from her body, leaving her to fall to her knees to the floor, mortally wounded.
“Well, that’s settled,” Respen said, sheathing his sword and turning towards Captain Karas. “Now I believe that as the highest-ranking noble present I am in command; we shall resume our retreat towards Tashir, there to plan my next move…”
But whatever Respen’s next move was to be, Captain Karas never learned it. Sateira, lying on the deck and half-blind from pain, knowing that she was dying, fumbled for the beam pistol holstered at her thigh. Slowly, she drew it and slowly she aimed it. Hate gave her one last gasp of strength; she levelled the pistol at Respen’s back and fired. By luck or providence, the bolt took his squarely through the back of the head. There was silence for a long moment, and then the Duke of Aurann crumpled.
The sight of Respen’s corpse falling forward was the last thing Sateira ever saw. Her sight was darkening, her pain was turning to numbness, but she still managed to croak out a final laugh. “I win,” she gasped, and then the sound of voices around her rose to an incoherent babble, and the darkness took her and carried her away.
///
From the bridge of Lion of Carann, Mardoban watched as the battle became a rout. What unity the Aurannian forces had left had failed them when Right to Rule went down; some surrendered, others turned on each other, others fled. Duchess Sateira’s flagship had quit the field, and most of her subjects who remained had surrendered, though others had followed her example and fled. Based on reports from Kallistrae and her mechs on the surface, the occupying forces and their guild allies had largely been driven from the capital city by the duchess, her freed and re-armed troops, and significant help from local resistance movements, their leaders dead or captured; only a few holdouts remained, barricaded in their towers or guild offices.
Duke Naudar had been taken into custody by his son Darius, who reported that fact with a heavy heart; it had been what Mardoban had hoped for, but it still pained him to imagine what must have been going on in the young man’s mind. And he felt both sorrow and anger for Naudar, who had fallen far enough to let ambition blind him into throwing in his lot with Respen and Sateira, thinking he could ride their war to victory for himself. Of the Duke of Aurann and the Duchess of Tashir, there was, as of yet, no word.
Suddenly, as if summoned by his thought, Gilgam touched his arm. “Sir,” he said, “we’re being hailed. It’s the Sun-Sword.”
“Put Sateira through,” Mardoban ordered, but the holo that appeared before him was not the duchess, but a middle-aged man who looked vaguely familiar to him.
“Your Grace,” the man said, “this is Captain Karas of Sun-Sword. I regret to inform you that Their Graces, the Duchess Sateira and Duke Respen, are both dead. In light of that fact, my crew and I can no longer justify continuing in our military actions against the rest of the Dozen Stars. We surrender ourselves to you, and to the Crown.”
The captain fell silent, and everyone on the Lion’s bridge looked at each other in wonder. “Does,” Gilgam finally said, “does that mean it’s over, sir?”
Mardoban didn’t know how Respen and Sateira had died, but the news struck him as both a shock and a terrible relief. “There’ll still be some mopping up to do,” he said, “but yes, Gilgam. I think by and large, it is.” He turned to a nearby communications officer. “Put through a line to Her Majesty. Tell her… tell her we won.”