Act 4.12 - Diversion

Nalyra laid a gentle hand on her husband’s knee, looking up at him. She could feel the tension winding tighter within him over their Bridge, as they sat in the otherwise empty passenger bay of the shuttle. The corners of Tor’laen’s mouth twitched upward, but the smile never even got close to his eye. She could not blame the man. While she felt some of the pressure, of course, this was his world. His people. His fleet.

Shortly after the arrival of the Outrunner Fleets in the system, all three Royal Hands, as well as Tor’laen and Kae’rel, received an urgent request for an in-person meeting with High Command. Nalyra could only imagine that it had something to do with the newly arrived fleets, but either way, it felt like trouble brewing. Even Zikara had no objections to returning to the surface of Ydan, no cautious words about the optics of them all arriving at once.

Nalyra’s eyes were drawn toward the screen at the front of the passenger bay, which showed a feed of the craft’s exterior cameras. Zikara’s shuttle was ahead of them, the craft and its escort fighters little more than glowing dots as they began their entry into the planet’s atmosphere. In the background of the feed, the two Outrunner Fleets sat in orbit, unmoving and silent. A slightly disturbing thought entered her mind.

“Tor’laen…” she began, her consort glancing down at her. “Perhaps this is a poor time to bring the matter up, but do you think it wise for all three Royal Hands to leave their Citadels at the precise moment two new Ydani fleets arrive?”

“You fear an attack against the Aegis?”

“Fear one? No.” Nalyra shook her head. “However, the possibility had crossed my mind.”

“Worry not, Crown Daughter,” Tor’laen said. “I do not believe this is some kind of ploy, and even if it were…” His gaze went to the shuttle’s feed, to the fleets waiting in orbit. “It would not succeed. I have thoroughly instructed the Admirals of all three Citadels on how to effectively respond to a Punch Drive boarding attempt. Even were both fleets to throw everything they have at your ships, I would be surprised if a single shuttle successfully breached one.”

“I…see.” Nalyra hesitated for a moment. “I know that I am likely the last person who should be asking this, but…is that alright, Tor? They are your former soldiers. Your former fleet.”

“Nothing good could come of a successful boarding of a Citadel at this point,” he said grimly. “It would not drive the Zakkili from our system, nor put us in a stronger position. It would simply invite retaliation, and subsequent subjugation by force, not diplomacy. Lives spent for nothing.” He sighed. “Even were they able to somehow take a Citadel, or perhaps two, the fleet the Monarchy has waiting at the edge of Ydani space would be here within a few bells, and my people’s decimation would be assured.”

“You know about the fleet?” Nalyra asked, more surprised than disturbed.

“I have long studied Zakkili strategy and tactics,” he replied with a slight grin. “Both from before my time on the Aegis and aboard it. Besides, not having reinforcements for this kind of situation would be absurd, and your people’s tacticians are smarter than that. It does not take uncommon brilliance to make an educated guess.”

“A fair point, Consort.” She leaned against him, entwining her fingers with his.

“Above all, I do not wish to see our two peoples killing each other pointlessly. The Punch Drives…they did exactly what they needed to — brought me to you, and you brought me to the Queen. Brought about the possibility of a peaceful surrender. Now, they are better left by the wayside. Perhaps someday they can be repurposed for something that works toward the safety and prosperity of all.”

“Mmmm.” Nalyra rested her head against him, savoring the warmth of his skin.

She was a creature so very used to command, one that craved confrontation and excitement. And yet…over the past couple spans, she had wanted nothing more than to have nothing happen. To spend her evenings snuggling up against her husband, or perhaps reading a novel while sitting in his lap. To watch him play that ridiculous boardgame against Vessa, or take a stroll through the Under Deck, with him by her side.

Only for a time, of course. The life of a Royal Hand was never dull for long, and she would not want hers to become so. Just a break, that was all she was asking for. Perhaps some of her feelings of slight melancholy leaked across their Bridge, as Tor’laen wrapped his large, sturdy arm around her shoulders.

Even so, their shuttle continued its burn toward the surface of Ydan. Toward the next crisis that demanded their undivided attention.

Tor’laen and Nalyra were quickly ushered inside the capital building, finding Zikara, Queni’la, Jalari, and Kae’rel waiting for them in the sizable lobby. The others appeared no less confused by the sudden summons, Zikara and her husband talking quietly, while Jalari impatiently tapped her foot, only pausing to nod at the newly-arrived Royal Hand and Shield Consort. Kae’rel looked especially unnerved, Tor’laen noted, most likely lacking any new orders or intel.

“Brother.” Queni’la stepped closer, his wife following him. “It is good to see you again, though I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances. I am told you are well on your way to recovery?”

“I am indeed.” Tor’laen managed to smile at the man. “Not quite back to combat readiness, but…”

“Do take care not to push yourself, brother Tor’laen,” Zikara smiled warmly up at him. She then looked to her twin. “Nalyra.”

“Zikara,” the Crown Daughter replied tersely. They were all on edge, Tor’laen could tell.

“Lieutenant.” He glanced over at Kae’rel. “Any further news?”

“Nothing yet, Captain,” the man replied in Zakkili, snapping to attention. “I hope, before long, news will come.”

Even as he spoke, the entrance to the lobby opened once more, and two Ydani stepped through.

A stream of Ydanic left the first man’s mouth, Tor’laen only catching his own name in the sentences.

“Captain Sarrek,” Tor’laen responded in Hylec, nodding at the man and the woman behind him. “Vic—Captain Raela,” he corrected himself, noting the insignia on the woman’s collar.

“So the rumors are true,” Sarrek said softly, switching to Hylec. “You cannot even understand your mother tongue now.”

The man was around two decades younger than Tor’laen, though he sported a similar build as the Shield Consort. His skin was dark red, and he kept his black hair parted between his horns, both of which curled back on themselves against his temples.

“It is as you say,” Tor’laen admitted. “I have been through much since we last met.”

“So it would seem.” Sarrek’s gaze slowly traveled up and down the Shield Consort, his lip slowly curling.

Tor’laen ignored the man, though he felt Nalyra slightly bristle at his side, clearly catching the implication despite being unable to understand the words.

“Captain Raela.” He nodded at the other Ydani. “I trust there has been little trouble with the fleet since my…departure.”

“Things have gone as they should,” she replied, her expression guarded. The woman had a slender build, but Tor’laen knew better than to judge her effectiveness in combat by that. In his years as her commander, he had seen her put countless larger men on their backs during spars. She kept her light brown hair in a tight braid, gathered behind her relatively small horns, her hair concealing most of them.

“Departure,” Sarrek snorted. “Yes, that is one way to name it. And now you return to your home, aboard one of the greatest threats to our people. In the company of our…enemies.” His gaze traveled over the three Royal Hands, a sneer on his face. “Honorless little things, from what they say.”

“Captain,” Kae’rel cut in, stepping forward. “The Royal Hands are currently diplomatic guests of the—”

“Silence, Lieutenant.” Sarrek made a sharp gesture, his eyes not leaving the Zakkili women. His gaze found the dagger at Nalyra’s hip, and he narrowed his eyes. Tor’laen stepped slightly in front of his wife. He could scarcely imagine Sarrek striking a diplomatic envoy, no matter the race, but he did not like the look on the man’s face.

“I had not believed the images, but I can see they were not exaggerated.” Sarrek’s gaze once again went to Tor’laen’s uniform. To Nalyra’s crest, embroidered on his sleeves and breast. “You serve our enemies now.”

“I followed my orders. The same ones that we all received. The same ones you had sworn to obey,” Tor’laen said quietly.

“You had your orders,” Sarrek repeated slowly. “You followed them, certainly. But I think you need not have followed them so…enthusiastically.” His eyes ran over the Zakkili uniforms and insignia. “Our people have proudly defended our worlds for two-hundred years. Now we are expected to roll over and hand them over on a platter to these Zakkili.” He lingered on the word. “And here you are, doing all you can to speed up the process.”

Tor’laen was saved from answering by the appearance of a pair of Ydani guards, hurrying toward the group. They said a few sentences in Ydanic, then beckoned the group to follow them. Tor’laen glanced at Kae’rel, and the Lieutenant gave him a small nod. The entire group set off after them, Sarrek and Raela stepping out in front of the mix of Royal Hands, Consorts, and aides.

“Who are they?” Nalyra asked quietly, drawing closer to Tor’laen.

“The Captains of the two Outrunner Fleets in orbit. The woman was the one who replaced me as Captain of my former fleet after my surrender.”

Listening to this through a text-to-speech channel? The story was copied, and the author never agreed to it being read out here.

“Hmmm.” Nalyra looked her over with renewed interest. “I got the impression that they are not fond of Zakkili.”

“Captain Sarrek, the man, is a good officer, but a bit hard-headed. We do not often see eye-to-eye,” Tor’laen replied. “I had not realized how much he seems to…resent your people.”

“That is one way to say it,” the Crown Daughter muttered, shooting a glare at the man’s back. She relented a moment later. “Still, I suppose such a reaction isn’t entirely unwarranted.”

Tor’laen allowed himself a small grin as Nalyra continued to grumble under her breath. The group took a sharp left, and the Shield Consort stiffened slightly. They were not heading in the direction of High Command’s audience chamber. He knew these halls. The group was heading for the war room.

Sure enough, they soon reached an entrance, guarded by another pair of Ydani, both of whom saluted the approaching Captains and opened the doors for them. The mixed group stepped into the beating heart of Ydan’s military and navy.

The room was circular, and the walls were covered by consoles and work stations, almost all of them currently manned by Ydani men and women. In the middle of the room, in a slightly sunken section of the floor, was a large holotable. One of the most expensive pieces of equipment in the entire capital, Tor’laen knew. It was, perhaps, one of the few things in his people’s entire civilization that could rival the technology that the Zakkili enjoyed almost casually. The lighting of the room was kept dim, in order to maximize the efficiency of the holotable’s projections.

The entirety of High Command was currently standing around it, their expressions strained. Even Korr’taen’s face was set in a deep scowl, as he stared down at a holographic representation of their home system.

“Ah, finally,” Commander Vael’kor said in Hylec, looking up as the group entered the room. “I fear that there have been some developments in the system that cannot wait for political niceties.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tor’laen noted the Royal Hands pulling out the small translation tablets which had become ubiquitous for Zakkili on his homeworld.

“Commander,” Sarrek said, stepping forward. “I feel I must object to the presence of our enemies in the war room.” His voice was harsh, dripping with disdain.

“Overruled, Captain,” Korr’taen replied, matching the man’s scowl. “Events have occurred that threaten the safety of entire worlds, and our guests are the ones in the best position to defend them.”

Tor’laen thought the man might protest, but Sarrek fell silent, saluting and moving to stand next to the holotable.

“Royal Hands, Captains,” Vael’kor said grimly, nodding to the two groups. “A situation has developed.” He ran a hand through his white hair, the stress obvious on his face. “As you are doubtlessly aware, we have recalled two of the Outrunner Fleets to Ydan. The reason for this is simple: the remaining two fleets have switched off their transponders and gone dark, responding to neither hails nor orders.”

Tor’laen clenched his jaw, his eye widening, and the other Ydani with the group reacted similarly. They all knew what that could portend.

“They’ve gone rogue, Commander?” Raela asked, clearly seeking to confirm what each of them suspected.

“Yes, Captain,” Commander Vel’kira replied, “We suspect the two remaining Outrunner Captains have mutinied, and seek to start a rebellion in order to drive out the Zakkili.”

Kae’rel sucked in a sharp breath, while Sarrek and Raela exchanged looks. This was almost the worst case scenario. Outrunner Fleets were equipped to operate without refueling or resupplying for years at a time. They could strike at whatever targets they pleased in the system and vanish, only to appear elsewhere days later and do it again.

“Do we have any intel on them?” Sarrek asked, his brow furrowed. “Last known locations, or perhaps intended targets?”

“That is the other issue,” Commander Dei’van said bitterly. The man tapped a few times on the holotable’s surface and the three-dimensional image shuddered, red representations of ships appearing near every settled world in the system except Ydan. “According to the information we have received, each world has reported readings of the missing fleets lingering at the edges of their gravity wells.”

“That’s impossible,” Raela said, leaning closer. “There aren’t enough ships in the missing fleets to do so.” Sarrek nodded in agreement.

“No,” Tor’laen breathed, staring at the little holographic ships. “There is a way.”

“Explain,” Sarrek demanded, frowning at him.

“Decoy radiation torpedoes,” Tor’laen started. “They are an older technology, one we planned to use against the Zakkili. Once we discovered that they usually rely on gravimetric scanning, the things were written out of Outrunner strategic doctrine, but I believe every Outrunner Fleet still carries them. Each torpedo emits enough thermal radiation to fool the scans that our planetary defenses still rely on.” He glanced up at the assembled group. “A single frigate can appear as an entire fleet this way.”

“We had reached the same conclusion,” Korr’taen said grimly, nodding. “But it leaves us in a precarious situation.”

“Our main fleet does not have the numbers to defend each planet simultaneously,” Commander Shae’ra added. “And neither Outrunner Fleet present would be a match for the combined might of two opposing fleets.”

“And as everyone here is aware, we do not enjoy the same FTL communications as the Monarchy does,” Korr’taen said, his gaze on the holographic planets. “By the time we receive confirmation from any of our worlds, it might already be too late. We must be proactive, not reactive, now.”

“I pray that this is just a precaution,” Vael’kor said grimly. “But we cannot afford to wait. Even within the delay it would take to send a scouting force and get confirmation, the renegade fleets could attack any of our worlds. Whatever we send must be capable of stopping them.”

“That is why we must ask the Royal Hands for assistance,” Vael’kor said, looking at the Zakkili. “Your Citadels could each defend an entire world without assistance. Even two Outrunner Fleets would be no match.”

“A moment, Commanders,” Sarrek put in, his gaze finding Nalyra. “The Outrunner Fleets were specifically selected to combat the Zakkili warships. Would they not be overrun?”

“Punch Drive boarding is no longer an effective means of attack against them,” Tor’laen replied calmly. “They have adapted already, and I have also advised the ranking officers on each Citadel on how to combat those tactics.”

“Traitor!” Sarrek hissed, leaning toward him.

“I have done nothing against the interests of my people or my worlds, Captain Sarrek,” Tor’laen growled, eyeing the man steadily. “The time for boarding Star Citadels has passed, and we are now better served by asking our future allies for their assistance.”

“Our future rulers, you mean,” Sarrek said mockingly. “The ones who would enslave our race.”

“If you see it as such, then I can do nothing to dissuade you.”

“Enough!” Vael’kor cut in, his voice loud. “Captains, stand down! I will accept no insubordination in my presence.”

Sarrek drew back, returning to his earlier position, his spine rigid with anger.

“Regardless of personal feelings,” Dei’van started, his voice grim. “To ensure the safety of the lives entrusted to our care, we must ask for the assistance of the Royal Hands.” He paused for a moment, his expression hard to read. “What say you, Zakkili?”

The three Royal Hands were quiet for a few breaths, reading over the translations of the conversation. Zikara was the first to speak.

“So you would like us to each travel to a separate world, and confirm whether the missing fleets are actually threatening those worlds?”

The members of High Command paused, reading the script on her tablet as it translated her words.

“That is correct, Royal Hand,” Vael’kor nodded. “Our fleet, and the two remaining Outrunner Fleets, will handle the remaining world.”

“What of this world?” Nalyra asked, her brow furrowed. “Would that arrangement not leave Ydan itself in danger?”

“The orbital defenses around Ydan are substantially stronger than any of our other worlds,” Vel’kira explained. “Even two Outrunner Fleets working in tandem would be hard pressed to breach them.”

“Wait, hold on,” Jalari said angrily. “What even are these missing fleets going to target? What’s their end goal here? Kae, ask them.”

The Lieutenant hesitated for a heartbeat, then translated her question. The commanders exchanged glances.

“I wish we could tell you, Royal Hand,” Korr’taen said quietly. “Such a thing has never happened before, not once in the history of our people.” His gaze went to Vael’kor, who nodded. “We have theorized that they might be targeting infrastructure and planetary defenses, perhaps looking to occupy a world and start producing more ships and weapons to strike back against the Zakkili.”

“Our greatest concern is that the remaining captains might be making irrational decisions, out of fear of your people,” Shae’ra added. “They may come to threaten the very lives they took an oath to defend.”

“The situation does indeed seem precarious,” Nalyra said slowly. “However, regardless of the intent of your missing fleets, our obligation is clear. The Monarchy is sworn to protect those under the Crown’s authority, and that now includes every Ydani citizen as well.” She glanced at the other two Royal Hands, each woman nodding back at her. “We will protect your worlds, and unveil the truth of the missing fleets.”

“Well said, Royal Hand.” Korr’taen nodded approvingly at Nalyra.

Tor’laen caught Sarrek scowling at her from the corner of his eye, but the man said nothing.

“There is only one small concern,” Dei’van started. “Were all three Citadels to disappear from Ydan’s orbit simultaneously, it would present a somewhat…unsettling image regarding the Zakkili and integration. A possible weak point for any extremists to take advantage of.”

“However, there is a way to solve that,” Vel’kira added, a glint in her eyes. “We have the prime example of successful coexistence with us in this room, after all.”

A small buzz of concern slipped over their Bridge, as Nalyra read the translation of the commanders’ words on her tablet.

“I am aware that we have no authority to make such an order,” Vael’kor began, looking at Tor’laen. “But I would ask Captain Tor’laen to remain here in the capital. To remain as the face of the integration efforts while the Citadels are not present.”

Nalyra stiffened at Tor’laen’s side, but said nothing, simply looking up at her husband.

They wish to separate us, Tor.

Her words flowed into his head. He tried to give no indication to the watching Ydani, acting as though he was merely thinking the idea over.

I do not think this some clever strategy to divide and conquer, Nalyra, he sent back. They have their backs against the wall, and are looking for any possible way to keep every one of their pieces safe.

The end result is the same. I cannot protect you, nor you I, if we are apart.

We have been apart before, Nalyra. It would be mere bells before we are reunited.

It is not the same. Her mental voice was laden with frustration. I feel as though we are but seeing the surface of the sea, while unknown currents and creatures thrash below it. I cannot help but worry.

Tor’laen took a deep breath, closing his eye.

You know I share your concerns, he sent back. But I will be in the center of my people’s greatest city, under the protection of High Command. You will be in your Citadel, surrounded by your loyal crew.

It still feels wrong.

There are no more shadowless paths, not any longer. Our options run thin.

So be it.

Their concern swirled together over their Bridge, laced with regret. Tor’laen could feel his wife’s care and longing, mirroring his own. They needed no more words. Neither was happy about the prospect, but duty would not wait for sentiment.

“I understand,” Tor’laen said, opening his eye once more. “I will remain here.”

The members of High Command visibly relaxed, and Korr’taen gave an audible sigh of relief.

“I do have one question, however,” Tor’laen began, his gaze moving between the commanders. “How exactly do you plan to let the populace know that I am still present here on Ydan?”

Vael’kor and Dei’van exchanged glances, while Shae’ra folded her arms.

“Tor’laen, son,” Korr’taen began, walking around the holotable to clap the Shield Consort on the back. “How do you feel about giving speeches?”