In Her Name

cautiously, looking at Jodi, whose face bore an expression of concern, “but she didn’t bother to fill me in on the details, Reza. I’m only a grunt, remember, and a ‘traitor,’ at that.”

“After all these years,” Jodi murmured to herself, “we’ve finally got a chance to beat them.” Looking at the warrior who lay dying, and the stricken child beside her, she said, “I’m sorry Reza, I really am. But if we’ve got the chance to put it to them once and for all, I’m all for it. We must be pulling every ship that can hold air for this battle, and when our fleet gets to the Homeworld and finds the warriors like this, they’re going to kick their asses. I just wish I could be there to see it.”

“You do not understand the dangers,” Reza said ominously. “Every ship in the Empire is converging on the Homeworld by now, all the warships of a race that has visited more stars than are visible in the night skies of Earth. And while they are disheartened and disorganized, all will fight to the death to protect the Empress. The human fleet will die along with the Empire, and all those human worlds that depend on starships for their survival will be cast into a dark age that may last for centuries. It will be a disaster the likes of which humanity has never known.” He shook his head. “The only hope is for me to reach the Empress in time.”

“And then what?” Eustus asked. “Are all the warriors going to spring back to their feet just in time to blow our ships out of space? No,” he said. “No, I don’t think I want that, Reza. I’m sorry.”

Reza looked at him as if Eustus had slapped him. “You doubt me,” Reza whispered incredulously. “Have I ever led you astray, lied to you, in all these years? I tell you truly, my friends: if the fleet attacks the Homeworld as you have said, it shall meet its end. But if I can reach Her, save Her, there may be hope for us all. You see, as Empress, She cannot destroy the heritage of Her only son, the child of Her very blood: Shera-Khan is half-human, and She will end the war. But only if I reach Her in time.” He looked at them pleadingly. “You must believe me. I cannot do this alone. Please.”

“Reza…” Jodi began, feeling helpless and fated to lose the best friend she had ever had, even over and above Nicole. “I… I don’t doubt you,” she said, “but I can’t help you, even if everything you say is true. I’m a Confederation officer, Reza, and the Kreelans are my enemy. I know I’m here because I’m accused of crimes that I didn’t commit, but that doesn’t mean that I’m ready to do the real thing. What you’re talking about is treason, and… I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Me, too,” Eustus said hoarsely, feeling like he wanted to die. “I’m sorry, Reza.” Eustus turned his eyes to the floor in shame.

* * *

In Erlang’s skies, the human fleet gathered. Enya watched the tiny lights as they flicked into normal space, sometimes individually, sometimes by the dozen. The Council of Erlang had been informed by the commodore aboard the Furious of what was happening, and had also been told that the new president and the entire Confederation Council would be aboard the flagship that would lead the great armada into enemy space. And President Borge had invited – decreed was more like it, Enya thought darkly – Erlang to send a representative along on this “most glorious of occasions.” Under the circumstances, with thousands of Confederation warships soon to be orbiting their home, the still-struggling inhabitants of Erlang were hardly in a position to refuse.

Enya had immediately volunteered. She was intelligent and strong-willed, and was more aware than most of the risks their people were taking in carrying the war to the Empire. It also gave her a chance, no matter how slight, of seeing Eustus before fate would have a chance to steal him away from her forever. Little did she know that he was under arrest on charges of high treason.

The shuttle from Warspite screamed in the night air, its engines howling like a hurricane as its three sturdy landing struts made gentle contact with the ground. The hatch hummed open and a helmeted crew chief poked his head out the door.

“Good luck, lass,” Ian Mallory said over the continued roar of the shuttle’s engines. He took Enya in his arms and hugged her tightly. “Godspeed.”

“Thank you, Ian,” she replied, returning his affection. He had been her father since she had lost her own. “I’ll not be away for long.” Kissing him on the cheek, she gathered up her single bag, a worn but respectable leather traveler, and darted into the shuttle.

With a final look around to make sure the hatch and ship were clear, the crew chief pulled himself back inside and the door slid shut behind him. As the people around it waved farewell, the shuttle’s engines roared with power and it began to lift from the ground. It was barely above the trees when the landing gear retracted and the ship accelerated rapidly out of sight, leaving nothing behind it but a glowing contrail that quickly faded.

High above, The Armada continued to assemble.

Forty-Nine

“Merde, but this will not work!” L’Houillier sputtered angrily, slamming his fist down on the table. “This insanity has cost us fourteen ships already from collisions around Erlang, and there will be three times as many ships appearing in the target zone. And those blasted politicians strutting around this ship like a bunch of cheap whores, pandering to that… that…” L’Houillier’s vocabulary failed to provide him an acceptable descriptor for the new Commander-in-Chief.

Sitting across from him, Zhukovski added to the fleet commander’s gloom. “And that is without interference from Kreelans,” he muttered. In all the years that the two had been friends, this was the first time that Zhukovski had seen L’Houillier lose his temper. Fortunately, it had been in private, in Zhukovski’s stateroom. Had such words been uttered beyond the Russian admiral’s electronically screened quarters, or within earshot of the wrong people, Borge would have acted quickly to see that L’Houillier – or anyone else, for that matter – quickly found his way into retirement. Or worse.

There seem to have been a lot of ‘retirements’ recently, Zhukovski noted bitterly of the virtual purge that had taken place among upper and middle grade Navy and Marine officers. He was amazed that he and L’Houillier had avoided the axe this long. Perhaps, he mused, Borge has something special planned for us.

“There is little we can do, admiral,” Zhukovski went on, pouring another vodka for the two of them, “at least without exploring less pleasant… alternatives.”

L’Houillier looked hard at his intelligence officer. “I would be lying to you if I said I had not experienced similar thoughts, Evgeni,” he said quietly, “but to say more – let alone to do more – is treason of the worst sort. The Confederation does not need a military dictatorship, or for the military to decide on a civilian leader.”

“Even now?”

L’Houillier nodded. “Even now. You know how I feel about this man and his minions, but I swore an oath, as did you, as did every member of the Confederation Defense Forces, to uphold its constitution and its legally established leaders. Borge succeeded Nathan legally, and that is that.”

“I wonder,” Zhukovski said aloud.

“What is that supposed to mean?” L’Houillier asked sharply.

“Being curious as cat – which is prerequisite for intelligence officer – I have taken liberty of conducting some… historical research into fearless leader’s background.”

“Evgeni!” L’Houillier hissed. “You had no right or authorization to do that! Using your position to gain access to classified–”

“Admiral misunderstands,” Zhukovski gently interrupted him, putting up a hand to silence his friend and superior. “Public domain information only. No access to classified materials made,” his eyes darkened. “None necessary.”

The Grand Admiral frowned, still not liking it. The thought of what would happen to them should any of the