In Her Name

years, until very recently.” He paused. “None ever has been used, even operationally tested, and so true power of weapon is not known.” He did not add that he thought with all his heart and soul that those weapons should have been destroyed long ago, rather than fall into the hands of a madman like Borge.

“Really?” Borge asked, his mind already contemplating the ramifications for his reign after he had defeated the Kreelans. No system would dare oppose me while I have control of such weapons, he thought. And, perhaps, he thought hopefully, more could be built. That was an option worth pursuing, but now was not the time.

Turning his attention back to Laskowski, who stood simmering at the head of the table after Zhukovski’s interruption, he asked, “And how do you plan to employ these weapons, admiral?”

“Sir,” she said, shooting Zhukovski a frigid glare, “we have brought them as an insurance policy. If you do not feel that the issue of the Kreelan problem has been resolved with the use of the fleet in conventional operations or with the thermium devices, the kryolons are a way for you to resolve the situation… utterly and permanently.” She was careful to phrase her words in such a way as not to imply the possibility that the fleet could fail. She was sure that her plan would work.

“Very good, admiral,” Borge said contemplatively. “Very good. Thank you.” Then, looking at each of the faces clustered around the table, he said, “Well, if there is nothing else, ladies and gentlemen…? No? Then this meeting is concluded. Please inform me when we are within thirty minutes of jumping into enemy territory. Thank you all, and carry on.”

The attendees stood and filed out, eager to get back to their stations and away from the cloying political atmosphere that shrouded Borge and those closest to him.

As they left, a huge Marine officer entered the room, shouldering aside the departing officers with little regard to their rank or stature. Thorella.

“And what good news do you have for me, general?” Borge asked as the last of the attendees had departed and the doors hissed shut.

“I split up the prisoners as you requested, sir,” Thorella said, smiling. “I had Mackenzie transferred to the Golden Pearl where we’ve had Camden locked up.” Eustus had not been on the shuttle that brought Reza and the others to Warspite’s hate-filled landing bay. He was a gift from Borge to Thorella, a political pawn that had been lost through the administrative cracks in the fleet’s preparations to attack the Empire. It was a gift that the younger man planned to enjoy immensely. “I’ll have to give her credit,” he said, shaking his head in wonder, “she certainly took her last flight in class. What a ship! No wonder you took it over for your personal quarters.”

Borge chuckled. “Rank hath its privileges, my friend,” he said, thinking of what was going to happen to Mackenzie at young Markus’s hands. All of the prisoners would be set aside for Thorella’s pleasure. He had certainly earned it.

As if reading his mind, Thorella asked, “What about Reza and the two blues?” He wanted them most of all.

“In time, Markus, in time. I shall not deprive you of your rewards. But his public visibility makes him a very valuable political commodity, much more so than Mackenzie or that cretin Camden. So you shall have to have your fun with them until Reza’s raison d’etre is no more.”

Thorella nodded. It was what he expected, and it would do. For now. “Is there anything else you want me to work on in the meantime?”

Borge shook his head. “No, my friend. The wheels have been set in motion, and now we must simply wait.” He smiled. “I suggest that you retire to our new ship and… enjoy the wait.”

His pitch black eyes twinkling, Thorella thanked his master and left.

Behind him, Borge quietly laughed to himself.

* * *

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Enya asked quietly, her eyes darting up and down the corridor to see if they had been followed.

“This is where he said–” Braddock did not get the chance to finish as the stark gray metal door to one of two dozen container storage rooms lining the corridor suddenly hissed open.

“Quickly,” a heavily accented voice said from the darkness beyond, a dimly seen hand gesturing for them to come in. “Voiditye. Enter.”

Exchanging a worried glance, Enya and Braddock did as they had been ordered. The door closed behind them, the lock bars automatically sliding into place to hold the door closed.

“Admiral?” Braddock asked the shadowy figure looming in front of them.

“Da,” Zhukovski’s voice replied. The darkness was suddenly peeled back a meter or so as he turned on a small electric lamp that stood on a hexagonal container squatting between the three of them. Beside it was a device with shifting numbers and tiny waveforms on its display: an anti-surveillance unit. “Forgive choice of place for meeting,” the admiral said, gesturing about them at the shadowy stacks of containers and pallets, “but circumstances dictate… radical approach to most basic problems.”

“Why are we here, admiral?” Enya asked cautiously. “Surely, this is not some crude joke?”

Zhukovski allowed himself a humorless smile. “I most sincerely wish that it was joke, young lady,” he told her, leaning against the container with his good arm, “but things are most serious, and – I fear – out of control. You see, Admiral L’Houillier and I believe that fleet is on course for rendezvous with disaster. Admiral Laskowski, fleet operations officer, has illustrious president’s ear, and has convinced him that our fleet can destroy Kreelans.” The smile flickered away. “And, for insurance, we have kryolon bombs to finish job.”

“Lord of All,” Braddock whispered. “I thought those were only a… a myth. I’d heard about them – everyone in the fleet has – but I never thought they were real. My God, I thought the thermium bombs were horrible enough…”

“They are real, young Councilman,” Zhukovski said ominously. “All too real.”

Enya suddenly interrupted. “What are these things?” she demanded, not sure that she really wanted to know.

Braddock turned to her. Even in this light, she could tell that he was pale, and she began to feel afraid. “They’re doomsday weapons, Enya,” he told her. “If rumor holds true, any one of those bombs can destroy a star, setting an entire system aflame, destroying every planet in its orbit.” He looked at Zhukovski, who nodded.

“But why would anyone build such weapons?” Enya asked, horrified at the magnitude of it.

“Simple,” Zhukovski said. “They were designed for time such as this, when only apparent solution to conflict is stellar genocide. And that might not be bad idea if only one weapon existed. But there are over a dozen, exact count even I do not know because of stringent security.” He eyed the other two. “Slight overkill even for Kreelan homeworld, da?”

Braddock’s insides turned to ice. “A dozen of those things controlled by Borge…” He let the thought drift off into the darkness of the abyss it promised.

Enya finished the thought for him. “No planet in the Confederation would be safe, ever again, from the threat of total destruction,” she whispered. “Borge would hold absolute power over everyone. And if they have some now, they could build even more.”

“There is worse.” The old admiral looked at the floor, then at Enya. “Your young Camden is under arrest,” he said softly. “He was charged with treason, and is being held in location that I have not yet discovered.” He looked into Enya’s eyes. “Sentence was by presidential order: he is to be put to death, along with Gard and Mackenzie.”

“No,” Enya breathed. “No! I don’t believe it! Borge cannot get away with such a thing! I’ll–”

“He can, dorogaya,” Zhukovski interrupted gently but forcefully, “and he will, unless he is stopped. Borge’s insanity knows no bounds, and all those around him have begun to fear him. That is why we must meet like this, because nowhere else is safe. People fearing for their own welfare will gladly point finger at someone else to escape suspicion. This fear has become fire, fanned by winds of Reza’s alleged treason and proclaimed chance by president for victory over Kreelan enemy. And if what I believe is true, Reza and others – including Camden – will not survive coming encounter. Borge will have no more use for them; having won his great victory and returning home like Caesar, they will disappear, no doubt in unfortunate accident.”

“And the Council is just as bad,” Braddock said. “They’re all terrified of him… including myself.” He clenched his fists. “But, what can we do?”