Chapter 53: Short, Victorious War

Ellie watched the Reformer's battlegroup break off as the destroyer slid toward the docking bay. The crowd surrounding her cheered. Fireworks exploded around the Federal Navy vessels and their Oligarchical allies. Mecha ringed the capital ships, polished and gleaming like giant dress uniforms.

Ellie doubted most of the crowd even noticed the lightless, lifeless prize ships tethered between the Fed vessels.

She had heard the news already, of course. One couldn't walk Etemenos's seemingly endless shifting corridors without knowing of the Federal Navy's glorious victory. News broadcasts provided round-the-clock coverage, a mix of interviews Ellie supposed were scripted and battle footage she knew to be edited. Live footage of a battle would have been incomprehensible to a layman and potentially bad for morale.

Ellie hadn't seen an interview with Admiral Marcel Avalon. Or, obviously, with Jack Hughes.

Avalon's name, at least, was everywhere. He got half the credit for the victory, the Marchess family and company got the rest.

So why was the stuffy, condescending Georg Marchess the most common interviewee, his shy, fidgety daughter Alarie second – and Avalon, a figure cut for broadcast media if ever there was one, nowhere to be seen?

Ellie wondered if the admiral was dead.

She had reason to hope Jack wasn't. The news reports crowed about the minimization of casualties on both sides, a testament to not just the skill but the mercy of the Federal Navy. Jack was a great pilot, one of the best she’d ever seen. Yet he wasn’t so cocky as to put his pride above his survival.

Surely he'd lived through the brief, hard fighting before the Marchess ships' arrival broke the Oligarchical fleet.

Surely!

Of course, if Avalon had died in the battle, Jack's survival might not matter. He was a captured rebel officer, and unless he had friends in high places – unless, perhaps, Ellie had friends in high places –, he would probably be executed as one.

Ellie wondered if President Ferrill would see her without Avalon to escort her.

She almost laughed at the thought. Even if the President of the Senate wanted to make time for a rebel's hybrid wife, her staff would never permit it. Ellie might have gotten a meeting – but she would never get an appointment.

She had to pray Avalon was alive as well as Jack if she was to have any hope of keeping the latter that way.

Not that she wouldn't have prayed for both men’s safety anyway.

The fireworks and cheers did nothing to brighten her mood. They were too loud for her felid ears and, as far as she was concerned, too bright for anyone’s eyes. She drifted away from the window and sat down.

She had no idea why the marines flanking the wide airlock between Etemenos's core and the Reformer allowed her to come into the waiting room, or why they allowed her to stay.

They probably thought she was someone's servant. A hybrid wouldn't have chosen to come here of her own accord, would she?

Though, unlike in the Civil War, it wasn’t as though she should have had any allies on either side. The Oligarchy was anything but a friend to hybrids. They had created Ellie’s ancestors as cheap, expendable labor. Otto Algreil had given her no reason to believe he repudiated that custom.

Was that better or worse than the Federal Senate, who kept hybrids suppressed because it wasn’t politically expedient to help them?

It didn’t matter.

Jack had fought for the Oligarchy. His loss was Ellie’s.

All she could do was wait and hope that it wouldn’t be the last mistake he made.

After minutes that felt like hours, the Reformer reached the docking bay and its airlocks hissed their way into connection with the dozens of airlocks along it. Although Ellie had tried to return to the same dock she’d disembarked at, she had no way of knowing if this was the right one to see Avalon.

She had no idea if he would disembark at all. If he was even still alive.

She sat and waited anyway.

Sailors, marines, mechaneers and officers of all three branches of the Federal Navy poured through the airlock, ten abreast. Here the crowd parted to let them pass, there surged forward as sweethearts and families rushed to welcome home their loved ones.

Ellie hung her head and tried to feel happy for them.

The crowd swelled with the addition of the men from the Reformer, then thinned as they passed through and took their loved ones with them. Some of the troops had haunted expressions, a few were injured, but on the whole they seemed nearly as happy as the crowd they were joining.

The benefits of a short, victorious war, Ellie thought.

She didn't even try to be happy about that, though she was hardly sure she'd wanted the Feds to lose to Otto Algreil.

Ellie waited more than an hour after the Reformer docked. Finally, the flow of men from the ship dried up and took the crowd with them. Only a handful of people, mostly teenagers who seemed more interested in the Reformer itself than its crew, remained.

Ellie sighed, squared her shoulders and rose.

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Avalon had either used another airlock or none at all.

One of the marines guarding the door turned his armored head when she stood. "Ellie Hughes?"

She froze. "Yes?"

"Your presence is required aboard the Reformer." The marine cocked his head. Someone, presumably a superior, must have given him an order through his armor's communications system. "Yes, sir. Understood, sir." To Ellie, he said, "Belay the previous order. You are to wait here."

Was that good or bad, Ellie wondered. Probably good. She didn't think they'd execute someone, even a hybrid, in the middle of the docking bay.

One of the marines strode over to stand behind her. So she was under guard? Maybe being ordered to wait was bad after all.

It looked a great deal worse when the other marine ordered the few lingering civilians to depart. They didn't hesitate. The only ones who remained were obviously fans of the Federal Navy, and even if they hadn't been, the marine's tone left no doubt that he was authorized to remove them if they didn't choose to leave.

Ellie didn't blame them for not wanting to be kicked out by a man in that miniature-mecha armor, especially if the kick might be literal.

These marines didn't seem especially hostile, at least. The ones on the Reformer itself had worn their resentment on their armored sleeves.

She wasn't an enemy or a problem to these men, just another job.

She was too tired of trying to puzzle out people's motives to decide if that was a positive sign. She sat back down, idly smoothed her hair and ears and, once again, waited.

Only a few minutes passed before the airlock doors opened on the Reformer's end. Ellie caught a glimpse of platinum hair before the airlock's walls blocked the view from her angle. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Marcel Avalon emerged from the airlock almost two minutes later.

He was walking again, but not well. He limped on the leg Stephan Kyrillos had injured, but his face looked, if possible, even more ashen than it had when she'd first seen him after that battle. He walked more stiffly than his injuries seemed to justify.

Ellie rose to go to him. The marine at her back let her. Apparently, he had his orders.

She reached Avalon's side and braced him, although he weighed enough to have bowled her over if he was actually in danger of falling.

"Welcome back," she said.

He managed the beginnings of a wan smile, but it never reached his amber eyes and faded almost before it appeared. He said simply, "Ellie."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes."

She wanted to ask about Jack, found she couldn't bear to.

"Your husband lives," Avalon said.

Ellie heaved another sigh, deeper and fuller than the last. She would have wrapped her arms around Avalon and crushed him to her, except she was afraid she might hurt him, and Principle knew that was the furthest thing from her mind in that moment.

"Thank you," she whispered. She found she was crying. "Thank you so much."

"You have no reason to thank me," Avalon said.

Ellie blinked her tears back. "What?"

"He refused parley." Avalon shook his head. "He and his master Algreil played me for a fool and defeated me."

"But you won!"

"The Federal Navy won." Avalon straightened up and started walking again. "I – did not."

"I don't understand," Ellie said.

Avalon didn't try to explain.

The marines saluted as he approached them. The one who had addressed Ellie said, "Do you require an escort, Adm… sir?"

Ellie glanced between Avalon and the marine.

The admiral wore the same white and green dress uniform he had when he'd left, but its markings had changed. The only ones left were those of the Federal Navy and the Divine Auric Drake. His Second Fleet, Reformer and rank insignia were gone, the fabric beneath them starched taut by the adhesive that had held them.

"No thank you, Sergeant," Avalon said. "I appreciate the offer, but you've already done more than you probably should have."

"Sir." Both marines snapped their salutes to their sides.

Avalon returned their salutes and strode past as best his injuries allowed.

He didn't speak as they left the waiting room, nor as they walked down the silent, silver hallways of Etemenos's core. It could not be silent, not with the life of a world-city buzzing all around them, but Ellie felt like she was going deaf for lack of sound.

At last, she said, "Admiral – Marcel. What happened to you?"

Avalon seemed to deflate at the sound of her voice. He slumped against one of the walls, which automatically formed a bench from its reactive gel surface. "I told you, Ellie. The navy won. I did not."

"You should be a hero before the Federal Senate," Ellie said. "Shouldn't you?"

"You need not fear on that account," Avalon said. "I am sure they will congratulate me extensively on my... retirement." He gritted his teeth as he spoke the word.

"Why would they want you to retire?"

"Otto Algreil knew who, what, I am."

"Oh." Ellie took a step back. "Oh."

"There will be no publicity of what he broadcast during the battle, nor of my response. It will be stricken from the record as 'enemy propaganda.' I will be given a medal and congratulations."

"And retired," Ellie said.

Avalon nodded.

"Marcel... would you have lost the battle if the Marchesses hadn't shown up then?"

He nodded again.

Of course. The Federal Navy could not be expected to fight under the command of a mere hybrid.

"I lost control," Avalon said. "Algreil knew my buttons and pushed them perfectly. I deserve to lose my command, for how easily he manipulated me if nothing else. Whether he could have done the same to another man, I do not know, but – hah. Listen to me. Another man? I overstep my bounds."

"You do nothing of the sort." Ellie's words came out as more of a snarl, far fiercer than she'd intended. Avalon looked up as if stung.

"I am sorry, Ellie," he said. "Everything President Ferrill and I wanted from the battle came to pass. The Oligarchical rebels are defeated, casualties were minimized, and your husband lives. For the moment."

Ellie drew in a breath.

"I have no influence now," Avalon said. "I cannot intercede on Jack Hughes's behalf."

"President Ferrill will still listen to you," Ellie said. "Won't she?"

"Ah, but will her ear matter?" Avalon shook his head. "President Ferrill has been outmaneuvered. The Senate will pay lip service to my heroism. Then, in closed session, they will use the revelation of my past to destroy her. The Marchesses will undoubtedly assist. Their much-vaunted patriotism already landed them control of Algreil Aerospace. If they but play to the proper figures in the Senate, they will be subcontracted to manage the nationalization of half the oligarchy."

Ellie found Avalon's depression contagious. "Jack will be executed," she said hollowly.

Avalon nodded.

"There must be some way we can save him," she said.

"I’ll try," Avalon said.

Ellie thought back to the other plans he and Ferrill had shared with her. She trusted their good will toward her and Jack, as far as it went. It was harder to believe they had her daughter’s interests at heart.

Now it might not matter. She said, "And Chloe...?"

"I go even now to speak to the President." Avalon averted his eyes. "You are welcome to accompany me, but I cannot counsel hope."