“Yes, Admiral.”
Moses nudged him. “The women will have to be purified.”
“And treated well,” Admiral Zaskar added. He knew exactly how his all-male crew would react once they heard women were aboard. Riots and mutinies would be on the horizon if he wasn’t careful. “Make sure they are well protected.”
He settled back in his command chair as the superdreadnought slowly rose out of orbit and headed away from the planet. It was a tiny victory, compared to some of the titanic clashes between starships during the war, but a victory nonetheless. The enemy would hear about it soon, of course, yet . . . what would they do? They couldn’t afford to cover every possible target, unless they wanted to spread their forces so thin he could score a series of easy victories . . . and they couldn’t find his base, unless they stumbled across it by sheer luck.
They did it to us, he thought wryly. Admiral Junayd, one of the most able commanders the Theocracy had produced, had been unable to prevent the Commonwealth from raiding behind the lines. It had cost him everything. His successors hadn’t been able to do any better. And now we will do it to them.
He smiled, rather coldly. Perhaps he couldn’t win, in the long run. Perhaps his forces couldn’t reestablish the Theocracy, not in any shape they’d recognize. But they’d make the enemy pay a high price, in blood and treasure, for its victory. And, when he was done, the victory would turn to ashes in their mouth.
“Admiral, the fleet is ready to enter hyperspace,” the communications officer reported.
“Then open a gateway,” Admiral Zaskar ordered. The enemy was going to be raging when they discovered he’d entered the system, smashed it flat, and retreated without taking any damage. “It’s time to take our leave.”
CHAPTER TEN
AHURA MAZDA
“So, as you can see, we need more supplies,” Director Fiona Ferguson said. “We’re quite short on everything we need.”
Kat nodded as she surveyed the refugee compound. It was nearly fifty miles from the nearest population center but was still heavily defended. The refugees were almost all women, fleeing abusive husbands or fathers or even sons. She found it hard to believe that so few women had fled to the center, even though she’d pledged that none of them would ever have to go home, but the reports clearly indicated that most of the refugees were suffering from deeply embedded trauma. They found it difficult, perhaps impossible, to stand up for themselves.
They think I’m an alien, she thought grimly. Princess Drusilla had been able to face her as an equal, of sorts, but the remainder of the Theocracy, male and female alike, seemed to think she was a man in a woman’s body. They simply couldn’t wrap their heads around a woman who was something other than a daughter, a wife, or a mother. And they don’t see that they too can reach for the stars.
“I’ll do my best,” she promised quietly. “But is there any hope of them becoming . . .”
Her voice trailed off. She simply didn’t know how to put it into words. Ahura Mazda had been an intensely stratified society, with women right on the bottom. A man might be dumped on by his boss, then go home and take it out on his wife or daughters. And far too many women believed that it was perfectly normal. Some of them had even argued that men who didn’t hit them didn’t love them. It was an attitude that Kat found utterly incomprehensible. A man wouldn’t have to break his wife’s bones to go to jail on Tyre. But then, women weren’t property on Tyre.
Fiona sighed. “Perhaps not here, Admiral,” she said. “But we are teaching them new skills and . . . and showing their sons a better way to live. It is a gradual process, but it will eventually succeed.”
“Let us hope so,” Kat said. Ahura Mazda had been a pressure cooker too. No wonder there had been an explosion of violence when the Theocracy had finally been destroyed. Too many people had been repressed for too long. “And . . .”
Her wristcom bleeped. “Admiral, this is Winters,” a voice said. “Can you please return to Commonwealth House?”
Kat’s eyes narrowed. She’d been scheduled to visit two more refugee camps, then a training center for policemen . . . although the latter might have been canceled anyway. The police cadets were being vetted, again, after the last shooting in a police station. Captain Rosslyn had practically threatened to sit on her if she wanted to go before the vetting was completed, pointing out that she was the number one terrorist target. Even the king came a distant second to the woman who’d ripped the Theocracy apart.
“Understood,” she said. If Winters was reluctant to discuss the matter over a secure commlink, it had to be important. Important enough to override whatever Kat was doing. “I’ll be on my way in a moment.”
She signaled Captain Rosslyn, then turned to Fiona. “I have to go,” she said. “But I will do what I can.”
“Please,” Fiona said. She walked Kat out of the building and down to where the armored aircar was waiting. A pair of attack helicopters sat next to it, bristling with weapons. Their crews seemed to regard escort duty as a chance for target practice. “And thank you for coming.”
Kat nodded and clambered into the aircar, leaning back into the comfortable seat as the craft hummed to life. She was wasting her time on Ahura Mazda. There was nothing that she could do that couldn’t be handled by dedicated staff. All she was really doing was making it look as though the government had the situation under control while they systematically starved the occupation forces of the resources they desperately needed. She hadn’t forgotten the attempt to draw down her destroyer squadrons, or how much political capital she’d had to spend to get the Admiralty to
