Chapter 30: Info Hazard
Sunshine Temple
Not too sore, are you?
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The War Chronicles of a Little Demon
Set in the Diyu Demons verse
A Saga of Tanya the Evil fic.
By Sunshine Temple
Naturally, I do not own Youjo Senki. So here's the disclaimer:
Saga of Tanya the Evil its characters and settings belong Carlo Zen, Shinobu Shinotsuki, and NUT Co., Ltd.
Previous chapters and other works can be found at my fanfiction website.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/
C&C as always is wanted.
Chapter 30: Info Hazard
"Excellent work," I handed the clipboard back to Gibbs. "You've all worked miracles."
Something like amusement poked through my chief Ritualista's perpetual scowl. "What you call a miracle, I call a passing grade. We had two full days under friendly guns to make repairs, Ma'am. More than enough time for any competent Legion maintenance team to bring a Squadron's worth of suits back to full readiness. Frankly, anyone who couldn't even manage this isn't worth their jumpsuit."
I nodded politely, "Well, I'll have take your word on that, Chief."
My eyes crossed the maintenance bay and spotted the two empty chairs. One was IronTalon's, late of Flight Three, and the other was mine. Soon, all the chairs would be empty, but that was because my Squadron would be taking to the air to do their part of our flotilla's Combat Air Patrol. Not that the need was terribly acute; the DarkStar and her plentiful escorts had caught up to us before we jumped, which left us traveling in a rather strong, if entirely unsubtle, flotilla.
The air thickened with incense as the Ritualista ran their final checks on the suits and made them welcoming for my pilots' Zephyr.
My pilots, who would be taking to the air without me.
Contrary to the intent of the incense to lull and reassure air spirits, my own Zephyr remained very active and highly excited. My feathers puffed up a bit at their swirling interest. In their experience, this particular ritual always preceded flight operations.
"No suit today little ones," I said under my breath, trying to reassure my Zephyr. I would have to find some other way to entertain them once it sunk in that they wouldn't be going into the sky. Otherwise, they would spend the rest of the day sulking moodily.
As she countersigned the maintenance certifications, Gibbs looked up from the paperwork. "Thinking of your replacement Polyxo?" she asked with bland disinterest as she flipped to a new page and continued to carefully read.
I held up a placating hand. "I'm not going to order you to raid our spares to bodge together a suit for me."
"That's good Ma'am, seeing as I don't have enough parts to do that. Even though you did manage to bring back a mask and some odds and ends." Gibbs gave the final signature with a flourish and handed the clipboard back to me. Thankfully, such forms didn't require anything so arch as a wax seal with my personal sigil. A simple counter-signature sufficed. "Third Squadron is certified flight ready, excepting Suits One and Eleven."
I gave her a dry look.
Gibbs shrugged. "Once we get out of comms blackout you could wire MuArc's Mursam office for a factory-fresh replacement."
"I lost my suit in combat," I pointed out. "The Imperial Legion will provide a new Polyxo suit out of depot."
"I may disagree with the 'new' aspect Ma'am," said Gibbs in the long-suffering tones of one familiar with Legion procurement services. "Mursam may be the major colonial posting, but it is still a colonial posting. Yes, they'll have plenty of Mark 15s in stock but not many of the new model."
Folding the clipboard under an arm, I shrugged. "That's what I started out with."
Gibbs gave that cynical smile. "Yes, three years ago it was MuArc's cutting edge production model. There is a reason I have installed refit packages to upgrade all of my-" the Ritualista coughed, "-your suits to the Mark 16."
"And you have done excellent work, given half of these came out of MuArc Amalgamated as Mark 14s," I said, once again looking over the ten newly polished and engraved suits. True to Gibbs's word, they did look like they had just been pulled out of their shipping crates, fresh from the factory. I only had nine pilots at the moment, but hopefully, the medical staff should be able to certify Charity as flight-worthy at tomorrow's check in.
Soon, my Legionary Fliers, those who had survived, would be fully healed. Physically, at least. Without a blemish or scar, it would be like they had never been injured. So long as one ignored the mental trauma, of course. With a species capable of such rapid healing as ours, it was easy for a Legionary to deny she had any trauma accumulation. Doubly so for those in the Volantes specialization, where self-sacrifice was emphasized past even the point it was for hoof-slogging soldiers. Our scars were invisible, and a grizzled veteran could look just as peppy as a green-horn recruit, as long as one did not look too closely at her eyes.
This sort of behavior, an unfortunate but seemingly inevitable product of a system that prized toughness and rewarded those who took on heavy burdens for the benefit of their comrades-in-arms, was an active drag upon force preservation. On the surface things may seem as pristine and enduring a fresh forged steel, but just below the fault lines lay waiting nonetheless. Fracture points liable to tear open under just the wrong kind of stress, which frequently translated to "at the worst possible moment".
As their commander, it was my responsibility to make sure my pilots and my Ritualista were not keeping their pain inside or in denial about their traumas. This was just as much my duty as making sure that all under my command received adequate provisions so they could fly and fight. An army might march on its stomach, but bread and blood alone could not sustain life. If only Zephyr were the only spirits I had to concern myself with.
"Countess," Gibbs's emphasis on my noble title got my attention She seemed almost concerned for me for some reason. "You have a chance to get a suit that does not need retrofitting, and may even have the latest power system variant; an advantage that has saved your life before. You might even use your reputation to once again get MuArc's best."
"No prototypes," I immediately snapped. "If they want me to be a test pilot, they can pay me for the privilege after I muster out!"
Gibbs snorted. "Production only. I wouldn't trust anything our test pilots and Ritualista haven't put through trials. Those boffins will come up with some too-clever bit of magical mumbo-jumbo without considerations about little things like maintenance or stability."
Her words made me consider something, and I tilted my head slightly. "Speaking from experience? Well, you have spent many years maintaining Ritual Plate..."
"Exactly," Gibbs flashed her fangs. "And when they're not being too-clever, it's just buzzwords or nonsense. Remember the canceled follow-on to the Gamma Block power system?"
It took a moment, but eventually my brain made the connection. "Ah yes, the Medium Runic Conduit Circles with Dynamic Etheric Controls in the Delta Block would improve power output by fifteen percent." I nodded as the annoying, and best kept forgotten, memories washed over me. "That made quite the buzz for a while, didn't it? Although, I can't recall hearing much about it these days…"
"That's because it was literally just marketing nonsense, Ma'am," Gibbs stated evenly. "A line of random words strung together to sound clever and stand out from the market and catch the idea of Legates, Generals and Admirals."
"That's why it was canceled for the Epsilon Block?" I asked.
"Partially. It wasn't all bad, just not as good as they made it out to be, and they covered it up with bullshit fancy talk."
My opinion of MuArc dimmed a bit, but I could still understand the kind of pressures a defense contractor would be under to maintain their performance edge. "Well…at least they were straightforward with having no idea why the starboard flight stabilizer array had that 44-C Amplification rune when we visited them at their factory in the capital," I conceded.
Gibbs scoffed, "Because we blindsided them with the question. You know that in the latest manual they call it a Zephyr enrichment and engagement module?"
"That's not... entirely wrong," I weakly defended the design and immediately wondered why I was bothering to carry MuArc's water. They were big girls, they didn't need little old me shilling for them.
"You won't believe the things our suppliers have tried to slip through or the obvious issues they missed." Gibbs's eyes momentarily went hollow and distant, as if every overly-engineered horror from her whole career were parading through the maintenance bay.
It really brought me back to the question I'd asked earlier. How many years has she been at this? I should look up her service record when we get back to Mursam.
After a moment, she refocused enough to add, "Though I'll admit MuArc is better than Imperial Blimp and Freight."
"Then why the instance on the latest version Polyxo?" I asked.
"Because that way it'll come from the factory with most of the known problems already fixed," Gibbs explained reasonably. "And that means I can focus on the unknown problems, in addition to the expected Pilot-induced damage."
I pointedly ignored the minor slight to my piloting skill. "While a special model designed just for me...."
"Would be a shiny death trap." Gibbs snorted. "And you would never stand for the efficiency loss of forcing me to stock special components just for you."
"Fine.." I relented. "It would be better if I could get a fresh modern suit, instead of having you do all the updates on an older depot model. But I'm not sure MuArc would ship me one in time."
"Countess," she repeated, staring right at the Preserver award I wore around my neck.
"I know; I know," I held up my free hand in grudging surrender. "If not for the blackout, I'd wire them right now. New Batavia is a civilized world."
"It's Alecto's primary colony world," Gibbs neutrally said.
I put her comment down to inscrutable senior NCO humor. Between her, GreyDawn, and, increasingly, Charity, my command did have a generous number of experienced Centurions; their foibles were a small price to pay for the benefit of their knowledge.
"Still plenty of time to have my mask fixed up," I noted hopefully.
"Being sentimental?" Gibbs wryly asked.
"I saved it because, if I hadn't, the church would have pressured me to get a saintly face with my next suit. But with me recovering my old one, the Church can't complain about me reusing it," I explained, only slightly smug at having seen that particular bullet in time to dodge it.
"Yes... and certainly not out of any sentimentality for something your mother gave you," Gibbs drawled, but shrugged. "Well, hopefully for you, the Church doesn't decide that your mask'll become an increasingly holy relic the longer it remains in proximity to your face. Otherwise, your plan's gonna backfire just a bit, huh?"
I stared at Gibbs.
"Anyway," ignoring my attention, the senior Ritualista looked up at the wall clock, "we still have a bit of time left to get everything ready."
Shaking myself, I surveyed the maintainers as they finished up their work, a small cluster around every Polyxo. "I'd say you're ahead of time"
Gibbs grunted. "Enough to have them finish the power checks and have a twenty minute stand down to use the heads, hydrate, and have a quickie snack before going back to finish the pre-flight and suit up your girls."
There was a knocking on the hatch of the compartment, and a taller pilot, muscular with short blue hair and wings iridescent with blue-grey feathers stepped in. I bowed my horns to Prefect Centurion Fabia Firmitas HarrowFang, commander of Fourth Squadron.
"There you are Countess. Come on, we've got to talk to the boss lady," Fabia said after returning the bow.
"Oh, good. I've got some paperwork for Tribune Quirinus," I replied and waved my clipboard as evidence.
Fabia gave me a sympathetic look. "That's not who I'm talking about."
My tail drooped. "I don't suppose you mean Praefectus Commodore SharpTail?" I asked. Being called before the ship's captain would be... unexpected, but it was still better than the alternative.
"Nah, I wish it were the Skipper." Sympathy radiated from the older centurion. If a superior officer who wasn't our direct commander in the Imperial Legions or someone in the Household Fleet command, then that left one option.
"Right." I stared at my fellow Prefect Centurion for a moment. I turned and handed the clipboard back to Gibbs. "Have someone run this up to the Tribune."
Gibbs took the paperwork with a sober nod.
"Why does the Lady Legate want to talk with us?" I quietly asked Fabia once we left the compartment.
"And only the two of us," she clarified as we went aft a frame.
"Is it because..." I trailed off as we climbed a ladder up to the next deck.
"Because once again we both took reckless and violent actions worthy of an Imperial Heroine and somehow lived to tell the tale?" she pointedly asked, a gleam in her steel-blue eyes.
"I didn't do that much. I just tried to stay alive," I demurred as we stepped to one side to let some shippies go the opposite way down the corridor. A minute later, we had to go through a security checkpoint being run by a bored but thorough group of grenadiers. Ever since we had left Harp's World, shipboard internal security had been elevated.
"Sometimes that's all you can do." Fabia's gaze went distant. "Sometimes that's not enough."
The vision of IronTalon's suit being blown up flashed in my mind. If things had been a bit different, I would have been the one fried in my armor, and she would have been the one shot down. I nodded, and we walked aft for a bit in awkward silence. "How are your pilots doing?"
"I'm down to ten active suits, like you, and almost as many pilots." Fabia shrugged.
"Yours hasn't been repaired yet?" I asked, making an educated guess. She had led that "daring" attack right into the heart of Building 37 two days ago.
"Maintenance triage," Fabia stated. "Due to extensive damage and burn-out to the power systems, my Sarpedona got booted to the end of the priority queue. It was only today that I could spare the maintainers to work on my suit, but it'll take some time to repair."
"At least it's still salvageable," I replied then winced. "That... wasn't meant to sound so snippy."
Fabia's tail swished. "First time?" she asked, her voice quiet
"First time as a Squadron commander, though I did a tour in the Crocelli Jungles. But if you mean the... ground stuff, well..." I tapped the Preserver award pinned to my collar. "Not my first near brush."
The taller woman stopped walking and shook her head. "No. First time losing a subordinate."
"Ah." I exhaled. That was... complicated. In this life, however... "Yes," I admitted.
I saw something shift in Fabia's gaze.
"But I've talked with Quirinus about it!" I quickly added, hoping to assure Fabia that there was no need to bother our senior officer about the matter. After all, our Legate was dealing with her own mourning as well: her first multi-Squadron command had incurred fifteen percent Killed-in-Action.
The lights of the ship corridor tinged Fabia's eyes purple as she studied me. "Well, she is your mentor. But if you need someone to talk to… I do have experience."
Fabia was right about that. While the other two Prefect Centurions in our unit had more time in the Legions than I did, both Caenis and Julia were, like me, newly raised to Squadron Command. "I will," I assured.
After another checkpoint, we arrived in Hoof-Slogger Country, the part of the Tarantula Hawk set aside for berthing the ship's infantry complement. This was also where they had some of their exercise and trailing halls, baths, auxiliary storage, conference rooms, and other miscellaneous compartments. Two of Lares's men gave us a discreet escort, which, given their great size, was surprisingly subtle. Although, really, at this point, how much of a surprise was it that the Forest People were so adroit at being understated?
It was to one of these anonymous rooms that Fabia led me too. Invidia was waiting outside, arms crossed and wings folded to her back, ruining in the process the pretense that this room contained nothing of interest.
My mirth quickly died when paranoia struck. Was that the reason why we had been called in? Did CSR have some esoteric operation that only women with feathered wings could accomplish?
Invidia's angular features shifted to her own cold pleasure as she read my disquiet. "Ah, the Imperial Heroines have arrived." She bowed her horns with what I could not help but take as a slightly mocking edge and knocked on the door to her side.
A few moments of silence passed before a chill ran down my spine from my neck to the tip of my tail. By the way the other two women shivered, I could tell that I was not the only one bothered by the strange sensation. Even Invitia's tail straightened, and her black feathers ruffled a bit before flattening back down.
The sensation was a bit like a privacy spell, but instead of vibrating the air, the buzzing sensation lingered more in my bones than my horns or ears. I should not be surprised the CSR had some sort of detector or scanner. I knew Legion Counter Intelligence had a whole suite of arcane tricks to evaluate personnel and secure facilities. Despite doing critical if unglamorous work, LCI was very much a junior intelligence service when compared to the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance.
There was a warbling buzzer that sounded like it should have set my teeth on edge, but did not. The oddly pleasant feeling that came in its wake disturbed me more than the door unlocking and creaking open a few inches revealing a dim gloom.
Fabia gave Invidia a flat look, and to my further disquiet, the spook actually looked somewhat guilty at all the theatrics.
An overhead light flickered on, revealing a dim, cramped chamber. Little more than an alcove, it was barely large enough to allow the door to swing open, let alone fit three people with fluffy wings and swishing tails. The room was bare save for another door to our left. Invidia closed the outer door behind us. Before I got too comfortable with my fellow legionaries and the risk of skin to skin contact, Invidia pulled a little leather-bound binder out of a cubby bolted to the wall. After signing us in, the room's second door to our left clicked open with another buzz.
Thankfully, the next room was far more spacious, if decorated with all the personality of a hold full of properly-secured cargo crates. There was a drab green lightweight desk, a set of locked filing cabinets, a few vibrating anti-scrying devices, and a handful of chairs. The only personal items seemed to be a tea service secured to a table by the desk and an open case that looked for all the world like a cosmetics bag complete with jade-colored combs, a few pots of various powders, and a chromed hand-mirror.
Looking at the stern features of Lady Legate JadeJavelin, I doubted the case was something so mundane as a mere makeup kit. "Prefect Centurions, thank you for seeing me. Please, be at ease. Tea?" the architect of Operation Epimetheus asked, her prim Alecton accent coming to the forefront.
The tea did smell fairly good. I glanced at Fabia, who simply shrugged and took one of the two chairs in front of the Legate's desk. Invidia took two mugs that bore a satirical version of the ship's seal: a large cartoony wasp aggressively pouncing on a hairy spider and filled them with the fragrant tea. I wondered if Invidia thought using such cups was some sort of breach of operational security.
Fabia took hers with a bit of honey. I asked for a splash of milk and a spoon of sugar. Unsurprisingly, Invidia had her tea unadulterated, but the Legate, for her part, used a peppermint stick as a stirrer that partially dissolved in her cup.
"I did not invite you here to congratulate you for your work on Harp's World, but congratulations are nevertheless in order." The elder demoness took a sip. "Your efforts were instrumental in a successful recovery of the SilverHold and related assets."
Invidia sat on a chair to the side by the tea set, looking somewhat like a glorified stenographer.
"You can surmise that I have more tasks for the both of you. Our mission is not over," the Lady Legate said.
I took a drink. The tea was a good Alecton breakfast blend. The elder demon across from us gave a polite smile that did not meet her bright blue eyes. I suppressed a shudder.
The Lady Legate was imposing and had a quiet, terrifying air about her. Not just because she was a much older and much more powerful demoness, but also due to her rank. A Legate typically ran a legion of over seven thousand personnel. A Volantes Legate, such as my commander's commander, was in charge of an Air Group of nearly four hundred Legionary Fliers. Either formation could change the course of battles, and in the process, potentially of history. In the Fleet, the equivalent would be members of the Admiralty. Regardless, a Legate's scepter represented massive authority in the Imperial Legions. The same would have to hold true in CSR.
However, given how Invidia, a mere Centurion, was quite familiar and chiding to Quirinus, a Volantes Tribune, it indicated an informal power greater than the official rank. Thus, a Legate in the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance would have yet more pull. Lady JadeJavelin was a woman who managed to secure the services of the assault carrier, escorts, RP Pilots, and ground combat specialists required to execute her mission, as well as the assignment of a capital ship and attached support elements as our standby reinforcements.
She had been given authority sufficient to conduct an operation that could have, and might still, result in a declared war between Diyu's two largest Great Houses. And she had invited me over for tea.
The elder demoness gave a rasping chuckle. "My, you are a skittish thing. The Duchess said you were nervous, but I didn't believe it."
I stared at her. "You know my mother, Ma'am?"
"Only in passing," JadeJavelin waved her hand. "Duchess SilverFlight is very proud of you, keeps pictures of you and everything."
"She has supported me all my life," I said, trying to look less awkward. I should not be surprised. My mother was a reserve Legionary Tribune and had her own mercenary force of RP pilots. Doubtless, someone like the Lady Legate could find ample work for a duchess capable of quiet operations requiring a large amount of deniable firepower.
"It is good that you got back safe to us after being shot down." She bowed her horns to Fabia, "As well as you, HarrowFang. Very bold and decisive of you to take a Flight down. Risky, but you cracked Building 37 like a nut."
"Ma'am," Fabia bowed her horns.
"I expected no less from a pair of Imperial Heroines." The Lady Legate lifted her cup. "And a pair of Legion Fliers without functional suits … Well, I would just hate to leave you under the impression you had somehow been overlooked."
My tail stilled at that, and the dread in my stomach grew as Invidia pulled out a pair of forms. They were the basic bulk-printed security forms. The anodyne text and layout bellied the horror beheld in two simple pages.
"On this day the Fourth of November, in the 432nd year Aprues des Represallia, I, Legate Lady Angela Prudentia JadeJavelin of the Office of Strategic and Cultural Reconnaissance, confirmed by the Senators of the Curia, serving by the grace of the Imperatrix, do hereby authorize this briefing to Volantes Prefect Centurions Fabia Firmitas HarrowFang and Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust of the Imperial Legion's 78th Infantry Legion, Epsilon Wing." The older woman put down her mug and gave us a sharp smile. "You may sign now."
Fabia had a rather good poker face as she quickly read the proffered document. With great reluctance, I took the document, pen, and wax stick Invidia held out. The initial appearance was correct. This was a standard security form with the standard boilerplate about the consequences of unauthorized dissemination of any privileged information. The entries in the boxes looked identical to the form we had to fill in to initially get briefed into Operation Epimetheus.
Except for two factors. First, instead of Invidia's spidery scrawl, the lettering was done in a neat copperplate that had to be the Lady Legate's. Second, a single anonymous box labeled MIH had been ticked by a hand not my own. Near the bottom, it was one among many in a long row that included such banalities as species, service branch, and province of birth.
Neither hardly seemed worth such pomposity, which only meant that I was failing to understand the importance of one or both. Regardless, knowing I was trapped regardless, I sighed, signed, and, heating the wax, sealed the document a second after Fabia did.
Invidia gathered the forms and smoothly gave them to the Lady Legate who, with deliberate thoroughness, scanned over them, countersigned, initialed the little MIH box, and then rolled them together into a narrow tube that bulged in the muddle around the curved lumps of still-soft wax.
As the Lady Legate worked, Invidia watched with the tiniest bit of impatience leaking out. After the older demon picked out of the case a bottle of pale green powder, she sprinkled it onto the rolled up forms. Then, leaning over the cased mirror, there was a flash of emerald fire, and smoke billowed for a moment as the mirror's surface rippled like quicksilver. The thin plume shivered and my air spirits stirred with renewed interest as smoke was pulled down and sucked into a small silver whirlpool. The Lady Legate snapped a finger, and the mirror's surface stilled and became solid once more, placidly reflecting the room.
"I do apologize for that theatrical tediousness, but alas, it is a necessity," the Lady Legate sighed, her prim accent making her sound slightly sarcastic. She sealed up the leather case and handed it over to Invidia. "Let that be the end of it. I assure you there will be no reading of entrails, though my subordinate is a trained Haruspex."
Invidia gave a thin smile as she checked the case's seals.
"Personally, I prefer augury when it comes to dubious means of gathering intelligence." JadeJavelin's narrow smile returned. "But that is not why you three fine feathered women are here."
"It's about the SilverHold," Fabia frowned into her mug. "About how we're going to hand it over?"
The Lady Legate gave a dry look at the mirror case. "Correct. Personally, I care far less about what the SilverHold does than who wants it back. As for all these theatrics, I do apologize for the extreme compartmentalization on Operation Epimetheus. I hope you will understand."
I gulped down some tea, hoping it would settle my stomach.
The senior officer smirked "Perceptive, Countess. Now that the acquisition part of the mission is over, we will begin the next phase. This requires briefing you in. We hadn't troubled you with this information earlier because you didn't need to know, there was a risk of enemy capture, and, of course, on account of the memetic and info-hazard concerns."
My tail twitched as I tried to get it under control. The first two points were valid enough, and both of us had set foot on Harp's World, but the last...
"But you're telling us now," Fabia flatly said.
The Lady Legate merely arched an expectant eyebrow.
My fellow Squadron Commander gave a long exhale. "Damnation."
"Elena decided to play a rather dangerous game and steal from a powerful polity," the Lady Legate stated in a tone that suggested this was a simple observation, one that bore little relevance to the topic at hand, despite all contrary evidence. "One that has a very acute sense of justice. One that makes examples of those who dare affront them. One that can be a bit... indiscriminate in its retribution.
"That alone," she continued, the airy tone vanishing from her voice, "is enough risk to BlackSkyvian interests."
"But the info-hazard?" Fabia pressed.
"An advantage of said polity." The Lady Legate finished her tea. "We are dealing with beings of stories and myths. Ones that do not hail from reality as we know it, that exists in a symbiotic relationship with humans, of all things. Their power waxes in the minds of those who know of them, that grows with every story told about them. As does their influence."
I tilted my head in disquiet while Fabia went very still. "Stories and myths? They are known to Diyu? If this 'polity' is no secret, then why the compartmentalization?
The older demon bowed her head ever so slightly. "Ah, let me clarify. My associates and I are not chiefly concerned about the strategic implications of Diyu learning of these entities. Yes, they are known to the public, mostly as stories, folklore, and tales of their own. We are more concerned about the handful of individuals capable of extracting reality from fairy tales. Including a handful of that handful who are in positions of great influence, and are thus able to render actionable knowledge that was previously only scholarly in nature."
"It's more a tactical issue?" I ventured. "That is, keeping the secret of who and what these entities are?"
"More operational, but yes. The info-hazard that the knowledge that these entities are real presents to the planning and execution of this mission is a significant risk. This risk, by the way, is cumulative: The more people speak of them, the more of their attention our activities attract. Hence the circumlocutions and the compartmentalization."
"So, discussing these entities draws their eyes to this mission…" Fabia frowned. "But, this mission was all about recovering their artifact?"
The Lady Legate gave a slightly bitter, dry chuckle.
"The beings we talk of are not unified," Invidia explained, a somewhat pained, almost constipated expression crossing her face. "They have peers, internal factions… Not too dissimilar to our own Great Houses, in that way. They also possess an enemy who is their perfect mirror. Should this rival, their sister polity, learn of this operation, the consequences would be almost as damaging as Elena learning of it."
I exhaled. Great House politics was one thing, but getting into some sort of internal tiff between entities that gained more influence the more people spoke of them seemed like exactly the kind of horrifying mess CSR would wade into.
"Who are they? What magical nonsense are we dealing with... Ma'am?" Fabia asked, apparently tired of dancing around the drake in the room.
"The Lords and Ladies," JadeJavelin stated with clear distaste, as if she found even the euphemism tiresome. "Also called the Gentry, Those Below the Hill, or half a dozen other equally florid titles."
My wings lowered. It sounded like she was talking about some kind of fae creature. She was correct that legends of such things were common on Diyu, largely stemming from human myths appropriated by the same demons who had appropriated so much else of human culture. According to virtually all of the stories I had heard, speaking the name of one of the fae was the surest way to gain its attention, to summon them. My stomach also sank as the concept of being with such powers reminded me too much of an echo of Being X's so-called omniscience.
The Sarpedona pilot stared for a long moment. "You're serious? El-"
"Yes Primus," the Lady Legate interrupted, "I requisitioned a newly refitted assault carrier, escorts, a Wing's worth of Ritual Plate, and a heavy Century of specialist infantry, then threw you all at a research facility, got two dozen of our people killed, risked a battlecruiser, and potentially started the Fourth Great House War on a lark," the Lady Legate's tone was dryly acerbic.
Then her gaze was as sharp and cold as drawn steel. "And do not, under any circumstances, say that word."
Fabia bowed her horns in apology.
The older demoness waved off the gesture. "It is a bit much to take in, I know," she said in a mildly conciliatory tone. "It always is. Peer states out on, or above, the Dimensional Spine are often... troublesome, and the Lords and Ladies all the moreso given the difficulties involved in reaching their territory, which is all I'll say about that."
She pushed her cup over to Invidia, who dutifully refilled it before passing it back. The Lady Legate took a delicate sip, and then primly announced, "The first thing to keep in mind is that the Fae lie."
"The stories make it seem like the opposite," I noted, dozens of stories of oaths and technicalities coming immediately to mind..
"Quite." The Lady Legate put the cup down. "The Lords and Ladies, as I will refer to them again, are beings of deception. They are not, to say the least, particularly ladylike."
I managed not to snort at a mistress of spies making such a statement.
"They can weave falsehoods via implication, omission, supposition, and deflection. They can quote someone else. They can ask a question that can be taken as a statement. Given all of that, does it matter that, within the pure strictures of Boolean logic, they cannot utter an untrue statement?" the Lady Legate asked.
"Surely, some value can be derived from their statements nonetheless," I said, answering the clearly rhetorical question despite Invidia's sharp look. This seemed important enough to justify a minor faux pas. "If one of the Gentry makes a direct statement, then by the strictures placed upon them, that direct statement must be true, at least to a certain specific quality or in a particular light."
"Which is why they are loath to make direct statements," Invidia said, subsiding with a shrug.
"They hate to make such statements, yes," the Lady Legate agreed, "but the Lords and Ladies relish the edge they gain from over-confident outsiders believing that they have put one of them into a position of disadvantage. They delight in enlightening such individuals as to the depths of their hubris once the threshold of no return is well and truly passed.
"But, because the Lords and Ladies have a compulsion about pacts and deals, dealing with them can have small measure of worth. Though they are very inclined to play games with their word, it is still their currency, their social lubricant, their diplomacy. They are bound by their oaths and by their word, which is why they never fail to ensure such arrangements are to their advantage. No matter how it may seem to be in yours."
"It is safer to assume trickery and deception. Do not make a deal, do not incur a debt, even inadvertently," Invidia added unhelpfully. "Their inability to speak false is a technicality in name only, for they will ruthlessly seek to deceive and enthrall you with every breath."
Fabia gave me a glance.
I picked up my own cup and managed to keep it from trembling. "I presume this briefing and etiquette lesson is not academic. You're going to give the SilverHold back, and you want us to be with you."
This time when the Lady Legate smiled, a ghost of the mirth sparkled in her eyes. "Quite."
"It would be foolish, as well as impolite, to not have some kind of honor guard," Invidia explained.
"The impoliteness would be the foolishness," the Lady Legate sighed, and for a brief moment, her true age, the long fatigue of deep weariness shone through her controlled facade. "The risks, the losses… In the grand scheme of things, all of those are worth what we gained, but they will only remain as such if we return the SilverHold without giving the Lords and Ladies cause for offense."
"Which polity of fae are these?" Fabia asked.
JadeJavelin's hard gaze returned.
"It's no coincidence that the SilverHold was used to drop temperatures and generate snow."
"Ah," Fabia nodded understandingly. "Our embassy will be with no wildfae or minor polity but with the Unseelie Court itself."
The Lady Legate held up a quelling hand. "Allow me to reiterate this point: do not speak the names of any sovereigns or nobles or factions you may have heard mentioned in stories. Some of the named parties might oblige your call."
Speak of the Devil, I thought, tail growing cold. How ironic that now that I have become a demon, it is I who has to worry about my tongue?
Externally, I carefully gathered my words so as to maintain at least some level of decorum. "I'm... in no great hurry to see which legends are true."
JadeJavelin's bleak smile returned. "Do not fret. The Lords and Ladies are beings driven by their nature. And while all of Diyu may earn their ire, my associates doubt they are a truly existential threat. But make no mistake: they can hurt us, and given the cosmology of where they hail from, any expeditionary force we send would have great trouble exacting revenge."
"One can see that famine, even on a small scale, is a natural threat such beings could pose to us, by dint of their nature," Invidia observed, flexing her fingers as she spoke. A spike of fear and anger flared from the CSR spook before she tamped it down, which was understandable. While no society reacts well when faced with starvation, our species tended to be particularly extreme in our reaction to hunger.
"Still, we have contingencies," Invidia declared in a particularly wintry voice, failing entirely to be reassuring. "Take comfort in that existential posturing is not one-way."
I could imagine just what dread measures lurked behind the word "contingencies." The bulk of the stories claimed that the fae were weak to iron, of all things, while a minority insisted on silver. Either way, the Great Houses of Diyu did not lack for creativity in arms, nor stocks of base metals. The War of Reprisal and the Empty Quarter were evidence enough of that.
"And since you want Imperial Heroines to be your Honor Guard, who better than a pair of Legionary Fliers who, without suits, would be waiting on the airship anyway," Fabia stated.
Invidia gave that smarmy grin again, perhaps my least favorite of all of her expressions. "But of course," she said as she secured the mirror's case in a locking cabinet but also withdrew a ribbon-wrapped folder and handed it to the Lady Legate.
"More than that," JadeJavilin added as she opened the folder and put out a few cheaply-printed chapbooks. Most of these were heavily fictionalized propaganda pieces recounting my adventures, but a good number were slightly older ones featuring similar nonsense about Fabia. "You are both beings of story and legend, quality of course varying. You have also been named by the Imperatrix and fall under her aegis. In these circles, such factors are of great importance and bear great weight."
Fabia's features hardened a bit at seeing the pile of little books with their crude illustrations. The beginning of an exasperated sneer only just held back. "Ah."
"Oh yes," the Lady Legate continued with a relish I found distinctly unlovely, "you both are known across the empire in song and story. From the cheapest cinema to the highest brow ballet, your names receive top billing in whichever productions you might appear in. And you both, protests aside, have used that narrative to advance your positions.
"Not a statement of judgment, mind," she clarified, "Leveraging such advantages is both natural and rational. It does, however, add a certain degree of… let us just call it narrative weight to your roles. And with such weight comes worth, at least to beings whose sweetest sup is story-telling."
I tried not to fidget in my chair even as my mind and gut twisted uncomfortably. It was... audacious, to say the least. If the Lords and Ladies truly craved mortal stories, if they were influenced by them, if such stories were their meat and bread, then bringing two living legends was a very definitive move. Although the full implications of that move were admittedly somewhat lost on me, I could certainly see the logic, no matter how distasteful.
When faced with beings who gained more influence the more people talked about them, beings about whom even the CSR was afraid to speak openly about for fear of their meddling, JadeJavelin had decided to go on the offensive. After all, if the narrative magic of the fae was real, then it had to be a two way connection. If I were not a pawn in this gambit, I might have appreciated her daring.
"Meanwhile, both of you have studiously worked to minimize the odds of having such popular... weight attached to your names?" I ventured a guess.
"Names have power," the Lady Legate agreed, though I couldn't help but notice how she refrained from answering my question. "Still, both myself and my protege also have our own honor names."
I glanced at Invida and wondered what hers was. Perhaps she had been awarded Fidelis; that seemed appropriately ironic. "And our notoriety brings us a measure of... protection?"
"Indeed," the Lady Legate agreed, just a bit too quickly for my liking, "that, and a message. Both you and Centurion HarrowFang went through the crucible at quite young ages and have since shown remarkable tenacity even at great personal risk. Take Harp's World: Countess, after being shot down, you could have merely stuck to evasion. Given your skills, you could have even baited your Elenese pursuers into an ambush of your choosing. Instead, you seized the initiative at every angle, turned predator into prey, and set the forest ablaze with your passion."
A halfhearted protest died in my throat, and my wings slumped. I'm never going to live that down, am I?
The elder demoness turned to Fabia. "And while I appreciate how decisive you were in leading a ground assault, we both know that your actions had considerable risk... both from the enemy, and from your superiors, had you not proven yourself victorious."
Throat dry, I sipped my own tea. "Okay I can see why you wanted us. But what would have happened if Fabia or I had died? It was hardly an outside risk. DarkStar's Blood, I was shot down! I'm lucky I wasn't killed."
JadeJaviln didn't look up as she gathered up the little chapbooks that had been spilled on her desk. "Not to worry. We have a list of backup candidates."
I blinked. "Oh."
Invidia accepted the refilled folder with a toothy grin. "Besides, what makes you think you were at the top of the list?"
My mind flashed back to Lady Primus Felicity IvoryQuiver, she was a Svalinna Pilot of some renown in the Household Fleet and had died two days ago. Having seen her in battle, I could say that her legend was warranted. Did she have an honor name? If so, I wondered which of us was her replacement. A shiver went down my spine to the tip of my tail at the all too chilling reminder of just how replaceable I was, even as a "Heroine of the Empire" with "narrative weight". Ultimately, I was still just a cog in a very large machine. The story of my lives.
The Lady Legate gave Invidia a disapproving look. "But yes, our plan will be to have the four of us be at the handoff when we return the SilverHold. Other assets will be in position and in the air."
Trying not to glare, I nodded. They were still keeping secrets from us; Fabia and I still had no idea what the SilverHold was.
"The handover is at risk," I said, stating the obvious. If it was not, there would be no need for airborne reinforcements to just hang around burning time and fuel. "Does that risk stem from rival factions among the Lords and Ladies?"
"Internally and externally. There are factions within the Unseelie Court but they also have their historical rivals in the Seelie Court. Not to mention their external enemies." The Lady Legate stared at her cup. "Also, we cannot discount our own rivals making an attempt to spoil the soup. It is possible that Elena or some other Great House would attempt to interfere."
"Or perhaps take the SilverHold from us and hand it over to the Lords and Ladies to claim the credit?" Fabia asked. That the DarkStar had continued to escort us was ample evidence that no chances were being taken.
"Perhaps, which is why all assets taken from the Onyx Institute are secure. Quite secure in the case of the SilverHold. No one is taking it from us." The Lady Legate's eyes twinkled, indicating that she would not elaborate.
There were plenty of secure and secure places on the Tarantula Hawk to stow the SilverHold. The Torpedo magazine in the bow was just one possibility. More than the hatches that limited access, the literal tons of ordnance and fuel stockpiled there could be detonated, in extremis. Such a detonation would destroy, or if we were very, very lucky, cripple the ship, but that would certainly be enough firepower to ensure no one else would get ahold of the damnable fae artifact.
Thus, a highly secure facility.
"And these measures are sufficient to secure the SilverHold from beings who we cannot freely name?" Fabia asked.
The Lady Legate's smile turned vicious. "I told you, it is quite secure. Even if they were able to locate the Tarantula Hawk, unless they were invited aboard, the actions they could take would be severely circumscribed. You see, the Lords and Ladies are also limited by the rules of guest-right and hospitality.
"Another reason to restrict knowledge," JadeJavelin added. "The only people who can invite them are those who have been read in."
"Unless invited, these people…" Fabia trailed off inquiringly. "What? Can't take the SilverHold?"
"Or harm anyone, or use any knowledge gleaned," Invidia added as she went back to the tea set to refresh everyone's cups. "They can hire mercenaries, who of course do not have such restrictions, but that is why I have assigned the ground teams to augment ship-board security among other such containment measures."
I rubbed my eyes. I could dismiss the concept of powerful beings limited in such a way as silly mumbo-jumbo, but... wasn't I sitting on a ship that kept a number of ship's cats with the express purpose of helping firm up the vessel's own Threshold? All to help better anchor things like wards, jammers, and teleport systems. Even Uriel had admitted that he was "limited in his remit" when we had met, and he was a supposed archangel sitting outside of time and space that apparently helped me kill a so-called "god".
Besides, what was a ward but a magical shield that acted as a direct means of blocking out the uninvited? It just also happened to work well against energetic guests at sufficient velocity.
JadeJavelin accepted her freshened cup with grace. "We need to give you a crash course in conversational tactics: etiquette, informational security, and diplomacy. You will need to understand the basics of fae culture and motivations. This is all with the aim of keeping you from accidentally incurring an obligation or debt with them. Fortunately, this is exactly what CSR was founded for. I will free up as much of my schedule as possible but, given my commitments, Invidia will supplement your lessons."
Invidia gave Fabia and I an almost apologetic shrug.
"After we finish our resupply and recharge here on New Batavia, our next jump will take us to Forlorn Prospect, the location of the handover, but we expect to arrive several days in advance, giving us adequate time to get into position and reconnoiter the site," JadeJavelin said. Which explained the continued presence of the HFV Tamora and its complement of Occultia recon suits.
"Ah," I said as I took in the full capabilities of the reinforced flotilla around the Tarantula Hawk. It was, I noted, a very quiet little force that nicely complemented the DarkStar and her rather heavy escort. The poisoned dagger and the cavalry saber. I glanced at Fabia, who nodded to me.
The elder demoness watched us come to the realization. "We may have taken losses during the raid on Harp's World but we have teeth. It is my hope that the Lords and Ladies will parley in good faith and accept the SilverHold, but if not, we will be ready for them."
+++++
Considering the world it glared down upon, it was a cruel irony that the sun shining on Forlorn Prospect was a bright blue inferno. I was not sure if it was orbital distance atmospheric attenuation or what, but the Alecton colony world only had a very narrow equatorial band that was even remotely comfortable during their long year.
Alas, we were not at a temperate latitude, and thus there was considerable ground shine that reflected up from the craggy permafrost surface below us, turning the planetary surface below into white-blue hell. However, that same view did make up for the brightness, and the long climb it took to get all the way up to the secondary dorsal observation station.
A hexagonal blister consisting of panes of glass with metal shutters on the top of the starboard hull near the front of the ship, the post gave us an unobstructed view of the Tarantula Hawk's entire upper half. Nearly two hundred feet to our left was the primary forward station atop the ship's port hull.
Under most operational conditions, the compartment we were in lay idle, but in case of emergency or poor visibility, could be used to direct high tempo operations. More commonly, posts like there were a relatively popular hangout spot on the ship. Though the difficulty in getting to the dorsal posts did make them at the bottom of the list. It had taken some favor trading to get private use of the observation post, but only minimal dickering had been required; after recent events, my star was on the rise among the ship's complement.
Marching down the hull were the recessed hatches that contained the Vel launchers and other close-in defenses, and behind us were some of the propulsion pods and the giant twin vertical tails.
However, GreyDawn, my Vs, and I were all focused on the leviathan bulk of HFV DarkStar as it flew with its escorts off to our port side. Lit from above and below, the twin-hulled vessel shone like a quarter-mile sculpture. VTOLs glinted like tiny dragonflies as they darted into and out from the aft sections of the high-altitude behemoth.
The DarkStar's camouflage systems had blended its coloration to match that of the sky around it, leaving the appearance of a ship outlined in silver tracery, grey fog, and blue crystal.
The Tarantula Hawk's own low-profile systems were superior but for the last couple days, our assault carrier had been pretending to be a plain old Mellona medium carrier. Similarly, we were traveling slower to keep in formation with the larger vessel. Faster than the Fleet's battlewagons, the DarkStar could cruise at a standard fleet speed of around ninety-five miles per hour. The Tarantula Hawk was about ten percent faster than that.
Compared to the other observation posts, the dorsal ones were less popular given the difficulty in reaching them, but after today's events, I was more than happy to have a bit of privacy.
"It's a shame you can't fly next to such a legendary ship," VioletBlood said with a slight pout. "Although, perhaps it isn't quite all that it's been cracked up to be; I expected more ornamentation from a vessel of such renown."
"What, like hundred foot tall gilt bas relief icons of DarkStar and various saints?" GreyDawn sarcastically asked as she made sure we had privacy. The baffling magic made my horns buzz annoyingly.
"Don't be silly!" VioletBlood huffed. "That'd be far too much extra weight."
I stared at my betrothed. "That... is a valid critique."
"Quite so," Visha remarked. "Were you thinking something painted onto the hull? Or maybe some smaller devotional symbols?"
The Baroness nodded. "See, Countess? The Islander girl gets it."
"Fine, I suppose there would be a number of gold stars and other icons when the ship is gussied up for over-flights, formal reviews and other events." My tail flicked as I sighed, one frustration to the long climb up here was the outfit I was wearing that VioletBlood had oh so thoughtfully brought for me.
"The DarkStar's not alone in that," VioletBlood noted with a triumphant smirk.
I smiled despite my better judgment. "Your foresight was appreciated."
"I knew you wouldn't think to bring anything like that," she proudly said.
"It did come in handy," I allowed.
"That's what I'm here for: to do the thinking for you," the Baroness smirked at Visha's light chuckle. "And I'm glad you got to wear it today. Do you know how much of my luggage allotment I sacrificed to make sure you had something proper to wear?"
"I admit I didn't think to pack a nun outfit," I sighed in defeat.
"One of your poofiest and most formal nun outfits," VioletBlood added, as if that helped. Admittedly, her wings around my shoulders did soften the blow somewhat and made the insufferably frilly dress almost tolerable.
"It did come in handy for this morning's ceremony. Maybe you should thank LoveBlood for her generosity," Visha suggested, always the peacemaker.
I did not huff, nor did I stamp a foot, and I certainly did not lean into her hug. "Thank you, Baroness. Formal attire certainly leant the ceremony some additional gravitas." Somehow, I managed to say all of that with a straight face and even avoided pointing out that, unlike me, the ship's chaplains had not worn wimples large enough to act as sails, let alone any billowing gowns.
"Could you imagine how embarrassing it would be if, after a mission like this, after a ship like that appears," the Baroness flicked her tail in the direction of the battlecruiser, "if you were found lacking for anything proper to wear?"
"Perish the thought," GreyDawn said straight-facedly, her amusement nevertheless obvious for all to feel.
I frowned. Curse her eyes, she was right. After yesterday's briefing, it was clear that CSR deliberately requested the DarkStar. I was certain that they hoped the venerable ship would not be needed on Harp's World, but even having the battlecruiser for the handover here on Forlorn Prospect would add to the story the Lady Legate was trying to build. But now... now they could spin a web about my great piety praying for DarkStar to save us all.
Damnable spooks and the webs they weave. May their blood boil in DarkStar's enmity, I cursed as my tail lashed at the deck.
"And you were lovely." VioletBlood preened as she broke the hug to look me over. "Then you even made time to talk to your subordinates. You're very caring and a wonderful Squadron commander."
"Thank you LoveBlood." I eyed her. "But are you sure this is just sweet talk?"
"I can't just be nice and complement you?" she blinked innocently.
Visha and I exchanged a look. "No?"
She pouted at us, but I remained resolute in my skepticism. Eventually, she gave first.
"Fine. Are you sure there's not more we need to know about this operation? You know, to better help support you when you go down to the surface tomorrow night?" Baroness VioletBlood asked, bold as brass and instantly justifying my very grounded reservations.
"Ah…" I glanced away, knowing the hurt I would see in their eyes from my admission. "I'm afraid… unfortunately, ladies, further details are well and truly restricted. All I can disclose is that it is for good reason."
I took no joy in having to hoard secrets from my Vs. It was not like I had been told any truly game changing truth, other than the nature of who owned the SilverHold. For DarkStar's sake we had spent two hours this morning going over meal etiquette, which was especially rich given the primary rule about food when around the Lords and Ladies was: Don't.
I glanced at Visha for support. She smiled at me, but even she did not know everything.
Part of me worried that Visha had her suspicions about the few things I kept from even her. She and her too-perceptive friend, Erya, had harbored suspicions about my own maturity and command skill all the way back when I was still Tanya von Degurechaff. But now... as Victorious Shadow, she possessed the advantage of the memories and experiences from her life as Viktoriya Serebryakov. Would she make the deductive leap? Had she made it already?
VioletBlood gave me a skeptical glance, then pointedly put her full attention onto the magical tuning fork GreyDawn was operating.
"I'll confess Primus, I suspected you wanted to talk to us about something important, but private, when you had us go all the way up to this isolated spot," GreyDawn admitted. "But even if you wanted me to play chaperone, I doubt you would have insisted on me casting a baffle for you."
"Not to mention you did not bring Primus Hood up here, so you only wanted those of us from the old days," VioletBlood said with a little grin on her face.
"She's taking some extra time to help her Flight mourn. A more personal memorial instead of the pomp and ceremony the chaplains and I could provide." I rubbed my eyes. There was a lot I wanted to tell them, but despite my innate paranoia, I found it hard to disagree with CSR's assessment of the threat. Even now, I was loathe to think too much about the Lords and Ladies.
I had spent a lifetime planning, plotting, fighting, and defeating a being of near omniscience. And after all that toil and trouble, the concept of going up against creatures with even an echo of Being X's powers was not an experience I relished.
I looked over the trio of pilots. "Your mission tomorrow will be critical. If the situation requires it, you may get some... strange targeting orders."
Visha gave a sad little nod while VioletBlood's customary laughter stilled. and GreyDawn looked thoughtful. "That does explain why the brass horns wanted a Strike Squadron despite having an over-abundance of Torpedo launchers."
"Lances do give air strikes a personal touch." I gave them a hollow smile. "Invidia and her associates aren't lying. This mission, the SilverHold it... it actually is important. Quite so."
GreyDawn's expression turned thoughtful. "There's only a few reasons to have such restriction of information, especially after the mission's complete."
Visha gave her a calculating but cautioning look.
The older Legionary Flier held up a hand. "I know better than to speculate on such matters. Especially with how both of our Wing's Imperial Heroines were tapped for honor guard duties."
VioletBlood exhaled and gave me a toothy smile. "You want us to be your special backup," she purred.
"Nothing so arch." I held up a hand. "For tomorrow you'll get a briefing, but that won't give the full context. You will be one of the contingency plans."
"And if we are... hypothetically told to fire right by your position, you'd rather have Lance fire close than some angry spirits maneuvering multi-ton Torpedoes a stone's throw away?" Visha asked.
"Hypothetically, of course," VioletBlood added once again embracing me. "You have trained us to provide pin-point targeting even with the most powerful of weapons."
"Something like that," I allowed, wondering why she was being so amorous today. "Regardless, we should let Invidia and the Lady Legate have their secrets and schemes."
GreyDawn shook her head.
Visha also gave a little smile.
And VioletBlood's amusement was blatant.
"What?" I demanded.
"You brought us up here for a private, secret, intimate, meeting" the Baroness put her wings over my shoulders for emphasis, "all to reassure us that we need to trust the spooks no matter how crazy their orders were."
I sighed as my tail flicked. "There's more to it than that..." I admitted. In truth, there was little my Squadron could do to change events if I felt that CSR had... overstepped their bounds. The DarkStar was at the center of a battle group that out-massed and out-classed us in every way and every asset. I suppose the Tarantula Hawk was a quieter platform, but it was not like I had any influence over the ship's commander Praefectus Commodore SharpTail.
But I did have the utter loyalty of my pilots, I could only hope my good works would be enough to nudge the needle in a less catastrophic direction. "You all have Gorgon Rigs and I've trained you to keep situational awareness. Visha, you may have to take the initiative, like we've trained in the past. "
Visha's sunny disposition clouded slightly. "Like the good old days?" she asked, picking up my subtext. In our previous lives, we often got a lot closer to the ground.
I nodded. "Fabia will be down with me, so unfortunately we won't be able to rely on her for those kinds of heroics this time."
VioletBlood cackled with partial understanding. "You want us to react before we get orders?"
"That's a fine line," GreyDawn said with studied neutrality.
"Legionary officers are supposed to show initiative." I flashed my fangs. "Invidia should be well aware of what she's getting into when she dragged us into this."
My moment was ruined a bit by VioletBlood putting her chin on my shoulder to where her horns rubbed against mine. Her amusement and lo…loyalty coming through the now very close connection. Her tail had also wrapped around my leg which in a more public setting would have been at risk of undermining my authority. However, given the smiles Visha and GreyDawn were trying to hold in I suppose I had less to fear in that regard. If only I could keep my own tail from nervously curling.
+++++
The walk back down to the second deck where our bunks and briefing rooms was a laborious journey down twelve stories of ladderway after ladderway, helped not one bit by the heap of fripperies under which I had to labor. Sometimes, the route had a detour with a platform that went to one side before we resumed the seemingly endless set of steps. These corridors had hatches that led to the various inspection gantries that weaved among the lifting cells that kept the massive assault carrier aloft. They also provided access to the wide array of warding, veiling, and teleportation systems that had been built into the structural frames and skin of the airship.
It was at the first of these landings that we ran into a pair of grenadier friends of Lares's. My notoriety only extended so far, but his vouching for me did give us a measure of privacy as the Legionaries pocketed their dice, picked up their kit, and escorted us the rest of the way. I appreciated their vigilance but, if I wanted to sabotage the ship, I literally had access to magazines containing ship-killing ordnance.
If anything, the workout was a nice distraction for my mind. I knew that many Legionaries, especially members of the ground teams, would climb up and down these ladders as part of their PT. There was also a set of corridors on the third deck that roughly circumnavigated the ship, giving a running track that was over eleven hundred feet long. Five laps was close enough to a mile for most purposes.
My own pilots made use of those facilities. The greenhorns were long used to my training ethos and did not complain, and Lucia's mob also was fine with burning off excess energy.
It was fortunate that we were not winded or fatigued when we made it out of the upper reaches of the ship and into the bow area of the second deck. Our bunks were not far from here, nor were the rest of the amenities of "pilot country".
We had just gotten down to this deck, and were passing the smoking lounge, when the outer doors opened and Invidia stepped out. She gave me her cold self-satisfied smile and stepped aside to let a pair of Fleet officers exit the lounge.
To my surprise, both bore the Praefectus rank. The shorter of the two was a pugnacious looking woman with a rounded face framed by a short bob of amber-colored hair, dusky grey skin a few shades darker than my Signifier's, and a solid fire-plug like body. I recognized her asValentina SharpTail, mistress of the Tarantula Hawk. Wearing the basic dark blue coveralls all shippies wore as their default duty-wear, the only sign of her station were the gold saber-over-oar pins at her collar.
Next to her, however, was a woman resplendent in Fleet Whites. DarkStar's Blood, she even had a sword buckled to her waist and a Preserver Award tied around her throat! The gold-winged ruby teardrop was the mirror image of the one I bore with my own set of immaculate Legion Blacks.
Willowy and well-formed, the white-clad demon moved with an utter confidence and grace perfectly matched by the haughty expression carved into hauntingly familiar aquiline features. Her skin, an interesting sapphire shade, contrasted strongly with the pair of deep amber eyes that, for all of her studied aloofness, were focused intently on me. Her proud head was crowned with tresses pulled back into a severe bun whose structure was maintained by silver pins adorned with quadripoint stars.
The Lady Legate followed up close behind her, cutting off any possibility of a conversation absent her contributions. "There you are Countess DiamondDust, I'm sure you know of our skipper SharpTail, but please allow me the pleasure of introducing Praefectus Commodore Countess SunsetFrost, commanding HFV DarkStar."
"Please, do." I saluted, keeping in my apprehension. "A pleasure, Ma'am."
SunsetFrost gave me an imperious smile and an approving glance to VioletBlood before returning the salute. "We've heard much about you," she said in the same elegantly vicious voice that I had heard when her ship had arrived on Harp's World. "I must say, Countess, a most impressive display," she purred, her words as sharp as the sword on her hip.
It was quite impressive when you summoned her ship with your prayers, wasn't it? a traitorous voice teased in my mind.
"You are far too kind. I just did my duty to House, Empire, and Our Hallowed Lady." I added the last upon noting the other myriad of DarkStar regalia she wore. Like me, she bore a set of ruby earrings that practically had to be relics, as well as some silver bands near the end of her tail and a set of engraved bracelets. That the iconography on all of her jewelry indicated that we shared the same sect in the Church was the deciding factor in the pious addition. What use were cultural connections if they went unused, after all.
Something like genuine joy, with a dash of religious fervor flared across her narrow ascetic's face, and immediately I regretted my impulsive choice. Oh Hallowed Lady, was this the kind of madwoman the Admiralty put in charge of a battlecruiser? And thanks to LoveBlood, I'm meeting her dressed up as a nun!
"My, she really is a pious thing, Angela," SunsetFrost noted to the Lady Legate in a breathtaking bit of familiarity as her tail swished.
"Her record is quite clear on the matter," JadeJavelin dryly stated. I noticed she had refrained from expressing her own thoughts on the matter.
"In fact, she was just giving religious advice to one of her pilots who is interested in converting," VioletBlood merrily chirped in with her own eager pride.
Her fellow noble redhead eyed her approvingly. "That is right and proper. She clearly has taken the oaths of the Sisterhood as well." The DarkStar's commander studied my fiancee and then looked over Visha, and finally GreyDawn.
"Forgive me for the lack of full introductions. May you have the pleasure of meeting Primus Centurions Victorious Shadow of my First Flight, Baroness VioletBlood of my Second, and Signifier GreyDawn, my senior pilot. The Baroness is my betrothed and Victorious is my mistress." Somehow, I managed to keep an even tone throughout the ludicrous introduction; it all sounded so tawdry when laid out so bluntly.
SunsetFrost nodded to them and gave me what seemed like a reassuring smile but there was also that glee about her. I pushed down any misgivings; having the approval of the commander of the DarkStar was a good connection to have, in the military, the church, and among the nobility. "Ah, young love. You'll treasure this time, but... enough reminiscing. I'm not just here to exchange pleasantries."
Behind her, Invidia gave me a wintry smile.
"Volantes Prefect Centurion Countess DiamondDust, it has come to my attention that you will not be properly dressed for your upcoming honor guard duties." SunsetFrost's tone was mild, but I had been around acerbic nobles enough to spot the adder in the grass. She tapped the hilt of her sword. "I would be more than happy to loan you a weapon as well."
My mind raced as I went over the lessons in deportment and high-society survival I had been given in the capital last year, not to mention the diplomatic refresher Invidia had been running me through recently. I wasn't sure about the game she was playing at, but I had a reasonable guess.
"Then if I'm not too forward, allow me to thank you for your generosity in helping in such a way," I graciously said, bowing my horns. "You must allow me to make this up to you."
"It's no grand gesture," SunsetFrost assured. "I'm happy to help another servant of the Imperatrix and a member of the faith."
"Oh, but I insist," I pressed, trying to keep my wings from fluffing. I had no idea what she was offering, but at least I was correct that there was some sort of deal. Besides, insisting seemed like the right and aristocratic thing to do.
Meanwhile, GreyDawn seemed bemused by the noble dance happening around her, but wisely held her tongue.
"If you insist..." SunsetFrost gave a theatrical sigh as she undid her sword belt and held the ebony scabbard with its silver-fitting out to me. "I shall have to take your favor in return as an act of charity."
I may have miscalculated. I privately admitted within the confines of my skull. Externally, I numbly took the blade and said, "That is more than acceptable."
"I told you, you should have brought the sword your mother and sister made for you," VioletBlood remarked before helping me belt the bloody thing around my waist.
"You should listen to your Baroness," SunsetFrost laughed, obviously amused by LoveBlood's outburst.
I simply nodded and kept in a sigh. What was the point of all these bloody rules of etiquette if a noblewoman could blatantly violate them whenever she pleased?
Centering myself, I bowed at her. "Thank you for the loan. I will use it with honor and return the blade to you or forfeit my life."
"I expect no less," SunsetFrost waved and glanced to her fellow ship commander. "And you were worried about the Hoof-sloggers, Sharpie. Both Imperial Heroines are impeccable young ladies."
SharpTail shrugged. "I am glad they met with your approval. I'll pass your compliments on to Tribune Quirinus."
I kept a glassy smile. The Lady Legate was having the commander of the DarkStar loan items to Fabia and myself? I wondered what she had gotten. Maybe a sidearm. I wondered if I could trade Fabia the sword for the pistol.
"We shall do that directly! I have a bit of time before I must go back to my own ship. Angela, are you free for a bit more?" SunsetFrost asked the Lady Legate.
"But of course." JadeJavelin nodded.
I was slightly in awe of the battlecruiser commander's force of personality. Not only did the Lady Legate outrank her, but CSR's sinister clout made it so that most officers would listen to the "suggestions" of someone even of lower rank. It seemed that SunsetFrost felt that such rules were for people who didn't have a capital ship at their beck and call. Or maybe it was specifically that capital ship that gave her the political cover for such familiarity.
Or maybe SunsetFrost is simply like that. I thought. She wouldn't be the first officer I ran into with such an odd kind of charisma. Always best to steer clear of their chaos, I say.
"Let us go talk to the Volantes Tribune then," Sharptail said, giving a slight nod to the Lady Legate. Yes, despite being the same rank as SunsetFrost, the Tarantula Hawk's captain was more accommodating to CSR. Which was expected, seeing how the high-veiled assault carrier was made for the exact kind of sketchy operations JadeJavelin and her associates got up to. Fleet or not, Commodore SharpTail was clearly beholden to the force sinistre the CSR represented.
Invidia coughed. "If you'll accept my apology, Ma'ams; I have other duties."
"Nor a formal Apology I'm sure," SunsetFrost warmly said. "I just loaned out my sword and my sidearm, Centurion."
"Nothing so arch," the Lady Legate assured. "Invidia is merely entertaining some of our other... guests and should make sure that all their needs are seen to."
SunsetFrost nodded before turning to me. "Best of luck Countess DiamondDust, and may DarkStar guide your hand."
"May Her wisdom bring you enlightenment," I automatically replied.
The DarkStar's captain bowed her horns to me while the Tarantula Hawk's shook her head slightly. The Lady Legate then left with them going further forward towards the ship's bow while Invidia slipped off to a side passage.
"That's certainly a positive development for tomorrow," GreyDawn stated.
I gave her a look and eyed the rest of the corridor. It was just the three of us. Where had the grenadiers gone? Were they helping route traffic to detour around us? Or did they have the sense to, upon seeing a gaggle of brass-horns, slip away to avoid the attention of senior officers?
Damnation…how do they do that? I wondered, half bewildered and half jealous. If I could sneak off half as easily, I wouldn't get stuck in these impossible situations nearly as often.
"Oh yes, I think she likes you, Countess," Visha cheered.
"Clearly, she has good taste," VioletBlood eyed the sword before giving me a toothy smile. "And you were worried about tomorrow."
"Yes, I was," I sighed, patting the hilt.
End Chapter 30
And we're nearing the end as the SilverHold will soon be given back to its rightful owners, and everything will be fixed. The next chapter REDACTED has over 8k written and is on the last scene of the last chapter of this arc.
Thanks to Ahuva, DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Larc , Readhead, metaldragon868 , and ScarletFox for checking and editing this chapter. Special Thanks to Endymion for the idea of having the DarkStar's captain loan her sword to Tauria. There's been great contributions from all my editors as they help really polish this work.
Set in the Diyu Demons verse
A Saga of Tanya the Evil fic.
By Sunshine Temple
Naturally, I do not own Youjo Senki. So here's the disclaimer:
Saga of Tanya the Evil its characters and settings belong Carlo Zen, Shinobu Shinotsuki, and NUT Co., Ltd.
Previous chapters and other works can be found at my fanfiction website.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/
C&C as always is wanted.
Chapter 30: Info Hazard
"Excellent work," I handed the clipboard back to Gibbs. "You've all worked miracles."
Something like amusement poked through my chief Ritualista's perpetual scowl. "What you call a miracle, I call a passing grade. We had two full days under friendly guns to make repairs, Ma'am. More than enough time for any competent Legion maintenance team to bring a Squadron's worth of suits back to full readiness. Frankly, anyone who couldn't even manage this isn't worth their jumpsuit."
I nodded politely, "Well, I'll have take your word on that, Chief."
My eyes crossed the maintenance bay and spotted the two empty chairs. One was IronTalon's, late of Flight Three, and the other was mine. Soon, all the chairs would be empty, but that was because my Squadron would be taking to the air to do their part of our flotilla's Combat Air Patrol. Not that the need was terribly acute; the DarkStar and her plentiful escorts had caught up to us before we jumped, which left us traveling in a rather strong, if entirely unsubtle, flotilla.
The air thickened with incense as the Ritualista ran their final checks on the suits and made them welcoming for my pilots' Zephyr.
My pilots, who would be taking to the air without me.
Contrary to the intent of the incense to lull and reassure air spirits, my own Zephyr remained very active and highly excited. My feathers puffed up a bit at their swirling interest. In their experience, this particular ritual always preceded flight operations.
"No suit today little ones," I said under my breath, trying to reassure my Zephyr. I would have to find some other way to entertain them once it sunk in that they wouldn't be going into the sky. Otherwise, they would spend the rest of the day sulking moodily.
As she countersigned the maintenance certifications, Gibbs looked up from the paperwork. "Thinking of your replacement Polyxo?" she asked with bland disinterest as she flipped to a new page and continued to carefully read.
I held up a placating hand. "I'm not going to order you to raid our spares to bodge together a suit for me."
"That's good Ma'am, seeing as I don't have enough parts to do that. Even though you did manage to bring back a mask and some odds and ends." Gibbs gave the final signature with a flourish and handed the clipboard back to me. Thankfully, such forms didn't require anything so arch as a wax seal with my personal sigil. A simple counter-signature sufficed. "Third Squadron is certified flight ready, excepting Suits One and Eleven."
I gave her a dry look.
Gibbs shrugged. "Once we get out of comms blackout you could wire MuArc's Mursam office for a factory-fresh replacement."
"I lost my suit in combat," I pointed out. "The Imperial Legion will provide a new Polyxo suit out of depot."
"I may disagree with the 'new' aspect Ma'am," said Gibbs in the long-suffering tones of one familiar with Legion procurement services. "Mursam may be the major colonial posting, but it is still a colonial posting. Yes, they'll have plenty of Mark 15s in stock but not many of the new model."
Folding the clipboard under an arm, I shrugged. "That's what I started out with."
Gibbs gave that cynical smile. "Yes, three years ago it was MuArc's cutting edge production model. There is a reason I have installed refit packages to upgrade all of my-" the Ritualista coughed, "-your suits to the Mark 16."
"And you have done excellent work, given half of these came out of MuArc Amalgamated as Mark 14s," I said, once again looking over the ten newly polished and engraved suits. True to Gibbs's word, they did look like they had just been pulled out of their shipping crates, fresh from the factory. I only had nine pilots at the moment, but hopefully, the medical staff should be able to certify Charity as flight-worthy at tomorrow's check in.
Soon, my Legionary Fliers, those who had survived, would be fully healed. Physically, at least. Without a blemish or scar, it would be like they had never been injured. So long as one ignored the mental trauma, of course. With a species capable of such rapid healing as ours, it was easy for a Legionary to deny she had any trauma accumulation. Doubly so for those in the Volantes specialization, where self-sacrifice was emphasized past even the point it was for hoof-slogging soldiers. Our scars were invisible, and a grizzled veteran could look just as peppy as a green-horn recruit, as long as one did not look too closely at her eyes.
This sort of behavior, an unfortunate but seemingly inevitable product of a system that prized toughness and rewarded those who took on heavy burdens for the benefit of their comrades-in-arms, was an active drag upon force preservation. On the surface things may seem as pristine and enduring a fresh forged steel, but just below the fault lines lay waiting nonetheless. Fracture points liable to tear open under just the wrong kind of stress, which frequently translated to "at the worst possible moment".
As their commander, it was my responsibility to make sure my pilots and my Ritualista were not keeping their pain inside or in denial about their traumas. This was just as much my duty as making sure that all under my command received adequate provisions so they could fly and fight. An army might march on its stomach, but bread and blood alone could not sustain life. If only Zephyr were the only spirits I had to concern myself with.
"Countess," Gibbs's emphasis on my noble title got my attention She seemed almost concerned for me for some reason. "You have a chance to get a suit that does not need retrofitting, and may even have the latest power system variant; an advantage that has saved your life before. You might even use your reputation to once again get MuArc's best."
"No prototypes," I immediately snapped. "If they want me to be a test pilot, they can pay me for the privilege after I muster out!"
Gibbs snorted. "Production only. I wouldn't trust anything our test pilots and Ritualista haven't put through trials. Those boffins will come up with some too-clever bit of magical mumbo-jumbo without considerations about little things like maintenance or stability."
Her words made me consider something, and I tilted my head slightly. "Speaking from experience? Well, you have spent many years maintaining Ritual Plate..."
"Exactly," Gibbs flashed her fangs. "And when they're not being too-clever, it's just buzzwords or nonsense. Remember the canceled follow-on to the Gamma Block power system?"
It took a moment, but eventually my brain made the connection. "Ah yes, the Medium Runic Conduit Circles with Dynamic Etheric Controls in the Delta Block would improve power output by fifteen percent." I nodded as the annoying, and best kept forgotten, memories washed over me. "That made quite the buzz for a while, didn't it? Although, I can't recall hearing much about it these days…"
"That's because it was literally just marketing nonsense, Ma'am," Gibbs stated evenly. "A line of random words strung together to sound clever and stand out from the market and catch the idea of Legates, Generals and Admirals."
"That's why it was canceled for the Epsilon Block?" I asked.
"Partially. It wasn't all bad, just not as good as they made it out to be, and they covered it up with bullshit fancy talk."
My opinion of MuArc dimmed a bit, but I could still understand the kind of pressures a defense contractor would be under to maintain their performance edge. "Well…at least they were straightforward with having no idea why the starboard flight stabilizer array had that 44-C Amplification rune when we visited them at their factory in the capital," I conceded.
Gibbs scoffed, "Because we blindsided them with the question. You know that in the latest manual they call it a Zephyr enrichment and engagement module?"
"That's not... entirely wrong," I weakly defended the design and immediately wondered why I was bothering to carry MuArc's water. They were big girls, they didn't need little old me shilling for them.
"You won't believe the things our suppliers have tried to slip through or the obvious issues they missed." Gibbs's eyes momentarily went hollow and distant, as if every overly-engineered horror from her whole career were parading through the maintenance bay.
It really brought me back to the question I'd asked earlier. How many years has she been at this? I should look up her service record when we get back to Mursam.
After a moment, she refocused enough to add, "Though I'll admit MuArc is better than Imperial Blimp and Freight."
"Then why the instance on the latest version Polyxo?" I asked.
"Because that way it'll come from the factory with most of the known problems already fixed," Gibbs explained reasonably. "And that means I can focus on the unknown problems, in addition to the expected Pilot-induced damage."
I pointedly ignored the minor slight to my piloting skill. "While a special model designed just for me...."
"Would be a shiny death trap." Gibbs snorted. "And you would never stand for the efficiency loss of forcing me to stock special components just for you."
"Fine.." I relented. "It would be better if I could get a fresh modern suit, instead of having you do all the updates on an older depot model. But I'm not sure MuArc would ship me one in time."
"Countess," she repeated, staring right at the Preserver award I wore around my neck.
"I know; I know," I held up my free hand in grudging surrender. "If not for the blackout, I'd wire them right now. New Batavia is a civilized world."
"It's Alecto's primary colony world," Gibbs neutrally said.
I put her comment down to inscrutable senior NCO humor. Between her, GreyDawn, and, increasingly, Charity, my command did have a generous number of experienced Centurions; their foibles were a small price to pay for the benefit of their knowledge.
"Still plenty of time to have my mask fixed up," I noted hopefully.
"Being sentimental?" Gibbs wryly asked.
"I saved it because, if I hadn't, the church would have pressured me to get a saintly face with my next suit. But with me recovering my old one, the Church can't complain about me reusing it," I explained, only slightly smug at having seen that particular bullet in time to dodge it.
"Yes... and certainly not out of any sentimentality for something your mother gave you," Gibbs drawled, but shrugged. "Well, hopefully for you, the Church doesn't decide that your mask'll become an increasingly holy relic the longer it remains in proximity to your face. Otherwise, your plan's gonna backfire just a bit, huh?"
I stared at Gibbs.
"Anyway," ignoring my attention, the senior Ritualista looked up at the wall clock, "we still have a bit of time left to get everything ready."
Shaking myself, I surveyed the maintainers as they finished up their work, a small cluster around every Polyxo. "I'd say you're ahead of time"
Gibbs grunted. "Enough to have them finish the power checks and have a twenty minute stand down to use the heads, hydrate, and have a quickie snack before going back to finish the pre-flight and suit up your girls."
There was a knocking on the hatch of the compartment, and a taller pilot, muscular with short blue hair and wings iridescent with blue-grey feathers stepped in. I bowed my horns to Prefect Centurion Fabia Firmitas HarrowFang, commander of Fourth Squadron.
"There you are Countess. Come on, we've got to talk to the boss lady," Fabia said after returning the bow.
"Oh, good. I've got some paperwork for Tribune Quirinus," I replied and waved my clipboard as evidence.
Fabia gave me a sympathetic look. "That's not who I'm talking about."
My tail drooped. "I don't suppose you mean Praefectus Commodore SharpTail?" I asked. Being called before the ship's captain would be... unexpected, but it was still better than the alternative.
"Nah, I wish it were the Skipper." Sympathy radiated from the older centurion. If a superior officer who wasn't our direct commander in the Imperial Legions or someone in the Household Fleet command, then that left one option.
"Right." I stared at my fellow Prefect Centurion for a moment. I turned and handed the clipboard back to Gibbs. "Have someone run this up to the Tribune."
Gibbs took the paperwork with a sober nod.
"Why does the Lady Legate want to talk with us?" I quietly asked Fabia once we left the compartment.
"And only the two of us," she clarified as we went aft a frame.
"Is it because..." I trailed off as we climbed a ladder up to the next deck.
"Because once again we both took reckless and violent actions worthy of an Imperial Heroine and somehow lived to tell the tale?" she pointedly asked, a gleam in her steel-blue eyes.
"I didn't do that much. I just tried to stay alive," I demurred as we stepped to one side to let some shippies go the opposite way down the corridor. A minute later, we had to go through a security checkpoint being run by a bored but thorough group of grenadiers. Ever since we had left Harp's World, shipboard internal security had been elevated.
"Sometimes that's all you can do." Fabia's gaze went distant. "Sometimes that's not enough."
The vision of IronTalon's suit being blown up flashed in my mind. If things had been a bit different, I would have been the one fried in my armor, and she would have been the one shot down. I nodded, and we walked aft for a bit in awkward silence. "How are your pilots doing?"
"I'm down to ten active suits, like you, and almost as many pilots." Fabia shrugged.
"Yours hasn't been repaired yet?" I asked, making an educated guess. She had led that "daring" attack right into the heart of Building 37 two days ago.
"Maintenance triage," Fabia stated. "Due to extensive damage and burn-out to the power systems, my Sarpedona got booted to the end of the priority queue. It was only today that I could spare the maintainers to work on my suit, but it'll take some time to repair."
"At least it's still salvageable," I replied then winced. "That... wasn't meant to sound so snippy."
Fabia's tail swished. "First time?" she asked, her voice quiet
"First time as a Squadron commander, though I did a tour in the Crocelli Jungles. But if you mean the... ground stuff, well..." I tapped the Preserver award pinned to my collar. "Not my first near brush."
The taller woman stopped walking and shook her head. "No. First time losing a subordinate."
"Ah." I exhaled. That was... complicated. In this life, however... "Yes," I admitted.
I saw something shift in Fabia's gaze.
"But I've talked with Quirinus about it!" I quickly added, hoping to assure Fabia that there was no need to bother our senior officer about the matter. After all, our Legate was dealing with her own mourning as well: her first multi-Squadron command had incurred fifteen percent Killed-in-Action.
The lights of the ship corridor tinged Fabia's eyes purple as she studied me. "Well, she is your mentor. But if you need someone to talk to… I do have experience."
Fabia was right about that. While the other two Prefect Centurions in our unit had more time in the Legions than I did, both Caenis and Julia were, like me, newly raised to Squadron Command. "I will," I assured.
After another checkpoint, we arrived in Hoof-Slogger Country, the part of the Tarantula Hawk set aside for berthing the ship's infantry complement. This was also where they had some of their exercise and trailing halls, baths, auxiliary storage, conference rooms, and other miscellaneous compartments. Two of Lares's men gave us a discreet escort, which, given their great size, was surprisingly subtle. Although, really, at this point, how much of a surprise was it that the Forest People were so adroit at being understated?
It was to one of these anonymous rooms that Fabia led me too. Invidia was waiting outside, arms crossed and wings folded to her back, ruining in the process the pretense that this room contained nothing of interest.
My mirth quickly died when paranoia struck. Was that the reason why we had been called in? Did CSR have some esoteric operation that only women with feathered wings could accomplish?
Invidia's angular features shifted to her own cold pleasure as she read my disquiet. "Ah, the Imperial Heroines have arrived." She bowed her horns with what I could not help but take as a slightly mocking edge and knocked on the door to her side.
A few moments of silence passed before a chill ran down my spine from my neck to the tip of my tail. By the way the other two women shivered, I could tell that I was not the only one bothered by the strange sensation. Even Invitia's tail straightened, and her black feathers ruffled a bit before flattening back down.
The sensation was a bit like a privacy spell, but instead of vibrating the air, the buzzing sensation lingered more in my bones than my horns or ears. I should not be surprised the CSR had some sort of detector or scanner. I knew Legion Counter Intelligence had a whole suite of arcane tricks to evaluate personnel and secure facilities. Despite doing critical if unglamorous work, LCI was very much a junior intelligence service when compared to the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance.
There was a warbling buzzer that sounded like it should have set my teeth on edge, but did not. The oddly pleasant feeling that came in its wake disturbed me more than the door unlocking and creaking open a few inches revealing a dim gloom.
Fabia gave Invidia a flat look, and to my further disquiet, the spook actually looked somewhat guilty at all the theatrics.
An overhead light flickered on, revealing a dim, cramped chamber. Little more than an alcove, it was barely large enough to allow the door to swing open, let alone fit three people with fluffy wings and swishing tails. The room was bare save for another door to our left. Invidia closed the outer door behind us. Before I got too comfortable with my fellow legionaries and the risk of skin to skin contact, Invidia pulled a little leather-bound binder out of a cubby bolted to the wall. After signing us in, the room's second door to our left clicked open with another buzz.
Thankfully, the next room was far more spacious, if decorated with all the personality of a hold full of properly-secured cargo crates. There was a drab green lightweight desk, a set of locked filing cabinets, a few vibrating anti-scrying devices, and a handful of chairs. The only personal items seemed to be a tea service secured to a table by the desk and an open case that looked for all the world like a cosmetics bag complete with jade-colored combs, a few pots of various powders, and a chromed hand-mirror.
Looking at the stern features of Lady Legate JadeJavelin, I doubted the case was something so mundane as a mere makeup kit. "Prefect Centurions, thank you for seeing me. Please, be at ease. Tea?" the architect of Operation Epimetheus asked, her prim Alecton accent coming to the forefront.
The tea did smell fairly good. I glanced at Fabia, who simply shrugged and took one of the two chairs in front of the Legate's desk. Invidia took two mugs that bore a satirical version of the ship's seal: a large cartoony wasp aggressively pouncing on a hairy spider and filled them with the fragrant tea. I wondered if Invidia thought using such cups was some sort of breach of operational security.
Fabia took hers with a bit of honey. I asked for a splash of milk and a spoon of sugar. Unsurprisingly, Invidia had her tea unadulterated, but the Legate, for her part, used a peppermint stick as a stirrer that partially dissolved in her cup.
"I did not invite you here to congratulate you for your work on Harp's World, but congratulations are nevertheless in order." The elder demoness took a sip. "Your efforts were instrumental in a successful recovery of the SilverHold and related assets."
Invidia sat on a chair to the side by the tea set, looking somewhat like a glorified stenographer.
"You can surmise that I have more tasks for the both of you. Our mission is not over," the Lady Legate said.
I took a drink. The tea was a good Alecton breakfast blend. The elder demon across from us gave a polite smile that did not meet her bright blue eyes. I suppressed a shudder.
The Lady Legate was imposing and had a quiet, terrifying air about her. Not just because she was a much older and much more powerful demoness, but also due to her rank. A Legate typically ran a legion of over seven thousand personnel. A Volantes Legate, such as my commander's commander, was in charge of an Air Group of nearly four hundred Legionary Fliers. Either formation could change the course of battles, and in the process, potentially of history. In the Fleet, the equivalent would be members of the Admiralty. Regardless, a Legate's scepter represented massive authority in the Imperial Legions. The same would have to hold true in CSR.
However, given how Invidia, a mere Centurion, was quite familiar and chiding to Quirinus, a Volantes Tribune, it indicated an informal power greater than the official rank. Thus, a Legate in the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance would have yet more pull. Lady JadeJavelin was a woman who managed to secure the services of the assault carrier, escorts, RP Pilots, and ground combat specialists required to execute her mission, as well as the assignment of a capital ship and attached support elements as our standby reinforcements.
She had been given authority sufficient to conduct an operation that could have, and might still, result in a declared war between Diyu's two largest Great Houses. And she had invited me over for tea.
The elder demoness gave a rasping chuckle. "My, you are a skittish thing. The Duchess said you were nervous, but I didn't believe it."
I stared at her. "You know my mother, Ma'am?"
"Only in passing," JadeJavelin waved her hand. "Duchess SilverFlight is very proud of you, keeps pictures of you and everything."
"She has supported me all my life," I said, trying to look less awkward. I should not be surprised. My mother was a reserve Legionary Tribune and had her own mercenary force of RP pilots. Doubtless, someone like the Lady Legate could find ample work for a duchess capable of quiet operations requiring a large amount of deniable firepower.
"It is good that you got back safe to us after being shot down." She bowed her horns to Fabia, "As well as you, HarrowFang. Very bold and decisive of you to take a Flight down. Risky, but you cracked Building 37 like a nut."
"Ma'am," Fabia bowed her horns.
"I expected no less from a pair of Imperial Heroines." The Lady Legate lifted her cup. "And a pair of Legion Fliers without functional suits … Well, I would just hate to leave you under the impression you had somehow been overlooked."
My tail stilled at that, and the dread in my stomach grew as Invidia pulled out a pair of forms. They were the basic bulk-printed security forms. The anodyne text and layout bellied the horror beheld in two simple pages.
"On this day the Fourth of November, in the 432nd year Aprues des Represallia, I, Legate Lady Angela Prudentia JadeJavelin of the Office of Strategic and Cultural Reconnaissance, confirmed by the Senators of the Curia, serving by the grace of the Imperatrix, do hereby authorize this briefing to Volantes Prefect Centurions Fabia Firmitas HarrowFang and Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust of the Imperial Legion's 78th Infantry Legion, Epsilon Wing." The older woman put down her mug and gave us a sharp smile. "You may sign now."
Fabia had a rather good poker face as she quickly read the proffered document. With great reluctance, I took the document, pen, and wax stick Invidia held out. The initial appearance was correct. This was a standard security form with the standard boilerplate about the consequences of unauthorized dissemination of any privileged information. The entries in the boxes looked identical to the form we had to fill in to initially get briefed into Operation Epimetheus.
Except for two factors. First, instead of Invidia's spidery scrawl, the lettering was done in a neat copperplate that had to be the Lady Legate's. Second, a single anonymous box labeled MIH had been ticked by a hand not my own. Near the bottom, it was one among many in a long row that included such banalities as species, service branch, and province of birth.
Neither hardly seemed worth such pomposity, which only meant that I was failing to understand the importance of one or both. Regardless, knowing I was trapped regardless, I sighed, signed, and, heating the wax, sealed the document a second after Fabia did.
Invidia gathered the forms and smoothly gave them to the Lady Legate who, with deliberate thoroughness, scanned over them, countersigned, initialed the little MIH box, and then rolled them together into a narrow tube that bulged in the muddle around the curved lumps of still-soft wax.
As the Lady Legate worked, Invidia watched with the tiniest bit of impatience leaking out. After the older demon picked out of the case a bottle of pale green powder, she sprinkled it onto the rolled up forms. Then, leaning over the cased mirror, there was a flash of emerald fire, and smoke billowed for a moment as the mirror's surface rippled like quicksilver. The thin plume shivered and my air spirits stirred with renewed interest as smoke was pulled down and sucked into a small silver whirlpool. The Lady Legate snapped a finger, and the mirror's surface stilled and became solid once more, placidly reflecting the room.
"I do apologize for that theatrical tediousness, but alas, it is a necessity," the Lady Legate sighed, her prim accent making her sound slightly sarcastic. She sealed up the leather case and handed it over to Invidia. "Let that be the end of it. I assure you there will be no reading of entrails, though my subordinate is a trained Haruspex."
Invidia gave a thin smile as she checked the case's seals.
"Personally, I prefer augury when it comes to dubious means of gathering intelligence." JadeJavelin's narrow smile returned. "But that is not why you three fine feathered women are here."
"It's about the SilverHold," Fabia frowned into her mug. "About how we're going to hand it over?"
The Lady Legate gave a dry look at the mirror case. "Correct. Personally, I care far less about what the SilverHold does than who wants it back. As for all these theatrics, I do apologize for the extreme compartmentalization on Operation Epimetheus. I hope you will understand."
I gulped down some tea, hoping it would settle my stomach.
The senior officer smirked "Perceptive, Countess. Now that the acquisition part of the mission is over, we will begin the next phase. This requires briefing you in. We hadn't troubled you with this information earlier because you didn't need to know, there was a risk of enemy capture, and, of course, on account of the memetic and info-hazard concerns."
My tail twitched as I tried to get it under control. The first two points were valid enough, and both of us had set foot on Harp's World, but the last...
"But you're telling us now," Fabia flatly said.
The Lady Legate merely arched an expectant eyebrow.
My fellow Squadron Commander gave a long exhale. "Damnation."
"Elena decided to play a rather dangerous game and steal from a powerful polity," the Lady Legate stated in a tone that suggested this was a simple observation, one that bore little relevance to the topic at hand, despite all contrary evidence. "One that has a very acute sense of justice. One that makes examples of those who dare affront them. One that can be a bit... indiscriminate in its retribution.
"That alone," she continued, the airy tone vanishing from her voice, "is enough risk to BlackSkyvian interests."
"But the info-hazard?" Fabia pressed.
"An advantage of said polity." The Lady Legate finished her tea. "We are dealing with beings of stories and myths. Ones that do not hail from reality as we know it, that exists in a symbiotic relationship with humans, of all things. Their power waxes in the minds of those who know of them, that grows with every story told about them. As does their influence."
I tilted my head in disquiet while Fabia went very still. "Stories and myths? They are known to Diyu? If this 'polity' is no secret, then why the compartmentalization?
The older demon bowed her head ever so slightly. "Ah, let me clarify. My associates and I are not chiefly concerned about the strategic implications of Diyu learning of these entities. Yes, they are known to the public, mostly as stories, folklore, and tales of their own. We are more concerned about the handful of individuals capable of extracting reality from fairy tales. Including a handful of that handful who are in positions of great influence, and are thus able to render actionable knowledge that was previously only scholarly in nature."
"It's more a tactical issue?" I ventured. "That is, keeping the secret of who and what these entities are?"
"More operational, but yes. The info-hazard that the knowledge that these entities are real presents to the planning and execution of this mission is a significant risk. This risk, by the way, is cumulative: The more people speak of them, the more of their attention our activities attract. Hence the circumlocutions and the compartmentalization."
"So, discussing these entities draws their eyes to this mission…" Fabia frowned. "But, this mission was all about recovering their artifact?"
The Lady Legate gave a slightly bitter, dry chuckle.
"The beings we talk of are not unified," Invidia explained, a somewhat pained, almost constipated expression crossing her face. "They have peers, internal factions… Not too dissimilar to our own Great Houses, in that way. They also possess an enemy who is their perfect mirror. Should this rival, their sister polity, learn of this operation, the consequences would be almost as damaging as Elena learning of it."
I exhaled. Great House politics was one thing, but getting into some sort of internal tiff between entities that gained more influence the more people spoke of them seemed like exactly the kind of horrifying mess CSR would wade into.
"Who are they? What magical nonsense are we dealing with... Ma'am?" Fabia asked, apparently tired of dancing around the drake in the room.
"The Lords and Ladies," JadeJavelin stated with clear distaste, as if she found even the euphemism tiresome. "Also called the Gentry, Those Below the Hill, or half a dozen other equally florid titles."
My wings lowered. It sounded like she was talking about some kind of fae creature. She was correct that legends of such things were common on Diyu, largely stemming from human myths appropriated by the same demons who had appropriated so much else of human culture. According to virtually all of the stories I had heard, speaking the name of one of the fae was the surest way to gain its attention, to summon them. My stomach also sank as the concept of being with such powers reminded me too much of an echo of Being X's so-called omniscience.
The Sarpedona pilot stared for a long moment. "You're serious? El-"
"Yes Primus," the Lady Legate interrupted, "I requisitioned a newly refitted assault carrier, escorts, a Wing's worth of Ritual Plate, and a heavy Century of specialist infantry, then threw you all at a research facility, got two dozen of our people killed, risked a battlecruiser, and potentially started the Fourth Great House War on a lark," the Lady Legate's tone was dryly acerbic.
Then her gaze was as sharp and cold as drawn steel. "And do not, under any circumstances, say that word."
Fabia bowed her horns in apology.
The older demoness waved off the gesture. "It is a bit much to take in, I know," she said in a mildly conciliatory tone. "It always is. Peer states out on, or above, the Dimensional Spine are often... troublesome, and the Lords and Ladies all the moreso given the difficulties involved in reaching their territory, which is all I'll say about that."
She pushed her cup over to Invidia, who dutifully refilled it before passing it back. The Lady Legate took a delicate sip, and then primly announced, "The first thing to keep in mind is that the Fae lie."
"The stories make it seem like the opposite," I noted, dozens of stories of oaths and technicalities coming immediately to mind..
"Quite." The Lady Legate put the cup down. "The Lords and Ladies, as I will refer to them again, are beings of deception. They are not, to say the least, particularly ladylike."
I managed not to snort at a mistress of spies making such a statement.
"They can weave falsehoods via implication, omission, supposition, and deflection. They can quote someone else. They can ask a question that can be taken as a statement. Given all of that, does it matter that, within the pure strictures of Boolean logic, they cannot utter an untrue statement?" the Lady Legate asked.
"Surely, some value can be derived from their statements nonetheless," I said, answering the clearly rhetorical question despite Invidia's sharp look. This seemed important enough to justify a minor faux pas. "If one of the Gentry makes a direct statement, then by the strictures placed upon them, that direct statement must be true, at least to a certain specific quality or in a particular light."
"Which is why they are loath to make direct statements," Invidia said, subsiding with a shrug.
"They hate to make such statements, yes," the Lady Legate agreed, "but the Lords and Ladies relish the edge they gain from over-confident outsiders believing that they have put one of them into a position of disadvantage. They delight in enlightening such individuals as to the depths of their hubris once the threshold of no return is well and truly passed.
"But, because the Lords and Ladies have a compulsion about pacts and deals, dealing with them can have small measure of worth. Though they are very inclined to play games with their word, it is still their currency, their social lubricant, their diplomacy. They are bound by their oaths and by their word, which is why they never fail to ensure such arrangements are to their advantage. No matter how it may seem to be in yours."
"It is safer to assume trickery and deception. Do not make a deal, do not incur a debt, even inadvertently," Invidia added unhelpfully. "Their inability to speak false is a technicality in name only, for they will ruthlessly seek to deceive and enthrall you with every breath."
Fabia gave me a glance.
I picked up my own cup and managed to keep it from trembling. "I presume this briefing and etiquette lesson is not academic. You're going to give the SilverHold back, and you want us to be with you."
This time when the Lady Legate smiled, a ghost of the mirth sparkled in her eyes. "Quite."
"It would be foolish, as well as impolite, to not have some kind of honor guard," Invidia explained.
"The impoliteness would be the foolishness," the Lady Legate sighed, and for a brief moment, her true age, the long fatigue of deep weariness shone through her controlled facade. "The risks, the losses… In the grand scheme of things, all of those are worth what we gained, but they will only remain as such if we return the SilverHold without giving the Lords and Ladies cause for offense."
"Which polity of fae are these?" Fabia asked.
JadeJavelin's hard gaze returned.
"It's no coincidence that the SilverHold was used to drop temperatures and generate snow."
"Ah," Fabia nodded understandingly. "Our embassy will be with no wildfae or minor polity but with the Unseelie Court itself."
The Lady Legate held up a quelling hand. "Allow me to reiterate this point: do not speak the names of any sovereigns or nobles or factions you may have heard mentioned in stories. Some of the named parties might oblige your call."
Speak of the Devil, I thought, tail growing cold. How ironic that now that I have become a demon, it is I who has to worry about my tongue?
Externally, I carefully gathered my words so as to maintain at least some level of decorum. "I'm... in no great hurry to see which legends are true."
JadeJavelin's bleak smile returned. "Do not fret. The Lords and Ladies are beings driven by their nature. And while all of Diyu may earn their ire, my associates doubt they are a truly existential threat. But make no mistake: they can hurt us, and given the cosmology of where they hail from, any expeditionary force we send would have great trouble exacting revenge."
"One can see that famine, even on a small scale, is a natural threat such beings could pose to us, by dint of their nature," Invidia observed, flexing her fingers as she spoke. A spike of fear and anger flared from the CSR spook before she tamped it down, which was understandable. While no society reacts well when faced with starvation, our species tended to be particularly extreme in our reaction to hunger.
"Still, we have contingencies," Invidia declared in a particularly wintry voice, failing entirely to be reassuring. "Take comfort in that existential posturing is not one-way."
I could imagine just what dread measures lurked behind the word "contingencies." The bulk of the stories claimed that the fae were weak to iron, of all things, while a minority insisted on silver. Either way, the Great Houses of Diyu did not lack for creativity in arms, nor stocks of base metals. The War of Reprisal and the Empty Quarter were evidence enough of that.
"And since you want Imperial Heroines to be your Honor Guard, who better than a pair of Legionary Fliers who, without suits, would be waiting on the airship anyway," Fabia stated.
Invidia gave that smarmy grin again, perhaps my least favorite of all of her expressions. "But of course," she said as she secured the mirror's case in a locking cabinet but also withdrew a ribbon-wrapped folder and handed it to the Lady Legate.
"More than that," JadeJavilin added as she opened the folder and put out a few cheaply-printed chapbooks. Most of these were heavily fictionalized propaganda pieces recounting my adventures, but a good number were slightly older ones featuring similar nonsense about Fabia. "You are both beings of story and legend, quality of course varying. You have also been named by the Imperatrix and fall under her aegis. In these circles, such factors are of great importance and bear great weight."
Fabia's features hardened a bit at seeing the pile of little books with their crude illustrations. The beginning of an exasperated sneer only just held back. "Ah."
"Oh yes," the Lady Legate continued with a relish I found distinctly unlovely, "you both are known across the empire in song and story. From the cheapest cinema to the highest brow ballet, your names receive top billing in whichever productions you might appear in. And you both, protests aside, have used that narrative to advance your positions.
"Not a statement of judgment, mind," she clarified, "Leveraging such advantages is both natural and rational. It does, however, add a certain degree of… let us just call it narrative weight to your roles. And with such weight comes worth, at least to beings whose sweetest sup is story-telling."
I tried not to fidget in my chair even as my mind and gut twisted uncomfortably. It was... audacious, to say the least. If the Lords and Ladies truly craved mortal stories, if they were influenced by them, if such stories were their meat and bread, then bringing two living legends was a very definitive move. Although the full implications of that move were admittedly somewhat lost on me, I could certainly see the logic, no matter how distasteful.
When faced with beings who gained more influence the more people talked about them, beings about whom even the CSR was afraid to speak openly about for fear of their meddling, JadeJavelin had decided to go on the offensive. After all, if the narrative magic of the fae was real, then it had to be a two way connection. If I were not a pawn in this gambit, I might have appreciated her daring.
"Meanwhile, both of you have studiously worked to minimize the odds of having such popular... weight attached to your names?" I ventured a guess.
"Names have power," the Lady Legate agreed, though I couldn't help but notice how she refrained from answering my question. "Still, both myself and my protege also have our own honor names."
I glanced at Invida and wondered what hers was. Perhaps she had been awarded Fidelis; that seemed appropriately ironic. "And our notoriety brings us a measure of... protection?"
"Indeed," the Lady Legate agreed, just a bit too quickly for my liking, "that, and a message. Both you and Centurion HarrowFang went through the crucible at quite young ages and have since shown remarkable tenacity even at great personal risk. Take Harp's World: Countess, after being shot down, you could have merely stuck to evasion. Given your skills, you could have even baited your Elenese pursuers into an ambush of your choosing. Instead, you seized the initiative at every angle, turned predator into prey, and set the forest ablaze with your passion."
A halfhearted protest died in my throat, and my wings slumped. I'm never going to live that down, am I?
The elder demoness turned to Fabia. "And while I appreciate how decisive you were in leading a ground assault, we both know that your actions had considerable risk... both from the enemy, and from your superiors, had you not proven yourself victorious."
Throat dry, I sipped my own tea. "Okay I can see why you wanted us. But what would have happened if Fabia or I had died? It was hardly an outside risk. DarkStar's Blood, I was shot down! I'm lucky I wasn't killed."
JadeJaviln didn't look up as she gathered up the little chapbooks that had been spilled on her desk. "Not to worry. We have a list of backup candidates."
I blinked. "Oh."
Invidia accepted the refilled folder with a toothy grin. "Besides, what makes you think you were at the top of the list?"
My mind flashed back to Lady Primus Felicity IvoryQuiver, she was a Svalinna Pilot of some renown in the Household Fleet and had died two days ago. Having seen her in battle, I could say that her legend was warranted. Did she have an honor name? If so, I wondered which of us was her replacement. A shiver went down my spine to the tip of my tail at the all too chilling reminder of just how replaceable I was, even as a "Heroine of the Empire" with "narrative weight". Ultimately, I was still just a cog in a very large machine. The story of my lives.
The Lady Legate gave Invidia a disapproving look. "But yes, our plan will be to have the four of us be at the handoff when we return the SilverHold. Other assets will be in position and in the air."
Trying not to glare, I nodded. They were still keeping secrets from us; Fabia and I still had no idea what the SilverHold was.
"The handover is at risk," I said, stating the obvious. If it was not, there would be no need for airborne reinforcements to just hang around burning time and fuel. "Does that risk stem from rival factions among the Lords and Ladies?"
"Internally and externally. There are factions within the Unseelie Court but they also have their historical rivals in the Seelie Court. Not to mention their external enemies." The Lady Legate stared at her cup. "Also, we cannot discount our own rivals making an attempt to spoil the soup. It is possible that Elena or some other Great House would attempt to interfere."
"Or perhaps take the SilverHold from us and hand it over to the Lords and Ladies to claim the credit?" Fabia asked. That the DarkStar had continued to escort us was ample evidence that no chances were being taken.
"Perhaps, which is why all assets taken from the Onyx Institute are secure. Quite secure in the case of the SilverHold. No one is taking it from us." The Lady Legate's eyes twinkled, indicating that she would not elaborate.
There were plenty of secure and secure places on the Tarantula Hawk to stow the SilverHold. The Torpedo magazine in the bow was just one possibility. More than the hatches that limited access, the literal tons of ordnance and fuel stockpiled there could be detonated, in extremis. Such a detonation would destroy, or if we were very, very lucky, cripple the ship, but that would certainly be enough firepower to ensure no one else would get ahold of the damnable fae artifact.
Thus, a highly secure facility.
"And these measures are sufficient to secure the SilverHold from beings who we cannot freely name?" Fabia asked.
The Lady Legate's smile turned vicious. "I told you, it is quite secure. Even if they were able to locate the Tarantula Hawk, unless they were invited aboard, the actions they could take would be severely circumscribed. You see, the Lords and Ladies are also limited by the rules of guest-right and hospitality.
"Another reason to restrict knowledge," JadeJavelin added. "The only people who can invite them are those who have been read in."
"Unless invited, these people…" Fabia trailed off inquiringly. "What? Can't take the SilverHold?"
"Or harm anyone, or use any knowledge gleaned," Invidia added as she went back to the tea set to refresh everyone's cups. "They can hire mercenaries, who of course do not have such restrictions, but that is why I have assigned the ground teams to augment ship-board security among other such containment measures."
I rubbed my eyes. I could dismiss the concept of powerful beings limited in such a way as silly mumbo-jumbo, but... wasn't I sitting on a ship that kept a number of ship's cats with the express purpose of helping firm up the vessel's own Threshold? All to help better anchor things like wards, jammers, and teleport systems. Even Uriel had admitted that he was "limited in his remit" when we had met, and he was a supposed archangel sitting outside of time and space that apparently helped me kill a so-called "god".
Besides, what was a ward but a magical shield that acted as a direct means of blocking out the uninvited? It just also happened to work well against energetic guests at sufficient velocity.
JadeJavelin accepted her freshened cup with grace. "We need to give you a crash course in conversational tactics: etiquette, informational security, and diplomacy. You will need to understand the basics of fae culture and motivations. This is all with the aim of keeping you from accidentally incurring an obligation or debt with them. Fortunately, this is exactly what CSR was founded for. I will free up as much of my schedule as possible but, given my commitments, Invidia will supplement your lessons."
Invidia gave Fabia and I an almost apologetic shrug.
"After we finish our resupply and recharge here on New Batavia, our next jump will take us to Forlorn Prospect, the location of the handover, but we expect to arrive several days in advance, giving us adequate time to get into position and reconnoiter the site," JadeJavelin said. Which explained the continued presence of the HFV Tamora and its complement of Occultia recon suits.
"Ah," I said as I took in the full capabilities of the reinforced flotilla around the Tarantula Hawk. It was, I noted, a very quiet little force that nicely complemented the DarkStar and her rather heavy escort. The poisoned dagger and the cavalry saber. I glanced at Fabia, who nodded to me.
The elder demoness watched us come to the realization. "We may have taken losses during the raid on Harp's World but we have teeth. It is my hope that the Lords and Ladies will parley in good faith and accept the SilverHold, but if not, we will be ready for them."
+++++
Considering the world it glared down upon, it was a cruel irony that the sun shining on Forlorn Prospect was a bright blue inferno. I was not sure if it was orbital distance atmospheric attenuation or what, but the Alecton colony world only had a very narrow equatorial band that was even remotely comfortable during their long year.
Alas, we were not at a temperate latitude, and thus there was considerable ground shine that reflected up from the craggy permafrost surface below us, turning the planetary surface below into white-blue hell. However, that same view did make up for the brightness, and the long climb it took to get all the way up to the secondary dorsal observation station.
A hexagonal blister consisting of panes of glass with metal shutters on the top of the starboard hull near the front of the ship, the post gave us an unobstructed view of the Tarantula Hawk's entire upper half. Nearly two hundred feet to our left was the primary forward station atop the ship's port hull.
Under most operational conditions, the compartment we were in lay idle, but in case of emergency or poor visibility, could be used to direct high tempo operations. More commonly, posts like there were a relatively popular hangout spot on the ship. Though the difficulty in getting to the dorsal posts did make them at the bottom of the list. It had taken some favor trading to get private use of the observation post, but only minimal dickering had been required; after recent events, my star was on the rise among the ship's complement.
Marching down the hull were the recessed hatches that contained the Vel launchers and other close-in defenses, and behind us were some of the propulsion pods and the giant twin vertical tails.
However, GreyDawn, my Vs, and I were all focused on the leviathan bulk of HFV DarkStar as it flew with its escorts off to our port side. Lit from above and below, the twin-hulled vessel shone like a quarter-mile sculpture. VTOLs glinted like tiny dragonflies as they darted into and out from the aft sections of the high-altitude behemoth.
The DarkStar's camouflage systems had blended its coloration to match that of the sky around it, leaving the appearance of a ship outlined in silver tracery, grey fog, and blue crystal.
The Tarantula Hawk's own low-profile systems were superior but for the last couple days, our assault carrier had been pretending to be a plain old Mellona medium carrier. Similarly, we were traveling slower to keep in formation with the larger vessel. Faster than the Fleet's battlewagons, the DarkStar could cruise at a standard fleet speed of around ninety-five miles per hour. The Tarantula Hawk was about ten percent faster than that.
Compared to the other observation posts, the dorsal ones were less popular given the difficulty in reaching them, but after today's events, I was more than happy to have a bit of privacy.
"It's a shame you can't fly next to such a legendary ship," VioletBlood said with a slight pout. "Although, perhaps it isn't quite all that it's been cracked up to be; I expected more ornamentation from a vessel of such renown."
"What, like hundred foot tall gilt bas relief icons of DarkStar and various saints?" GreyDawn sarcastically asked as she made sure we had privacy. The baffling magic made my horns buzz annoyingly.
"Don't be silly!" VioletBlood huffed. "That'd be far too much extra weight."
I stared at my betrothed. "That... is a valid critique."
"Quite so," Visha remarked. "Were you thinking something painted onto the hull? Or maybe some smaller devotional symbols?"
The Baroness nodded. "See, Countess? The Islander girl gets it."
"Fine, I suppose there would be a number of gold stars and other icons when the ship is gussied up for over-flights, formal reviews and other events." My tail flicked as I sighed, one frustration to the long climb up here was the outfit I was wearing that VioletBlood had oh so thoughtfully brought for me.
"The DarkStar's not alone in that," VioletBlood noted with a triumphant smirk.
I smiled despite my better judgment. "Your foresight was appreciated."
"I knew you wouldn't think to bring anything like that," she proudly said.
"It did come in handy," I allowed.
"That's what I'm here for: to do the thinking for you," the Baroness smirked at Visha's light chuckle. "And I'm glad you got to wear it today. Do you know how much of my luggage allotment I sacrificed to make sure you had something proper to wear?"
"I admit I didn't think to pack a nun outfit," I sighed in defeat.
"One of your poofiest and most formal nun outfits," VioletBlood added, as if that helped. Admittedly, her wings around my shoulders did soften the blow somewhat and made the insufferably frilly dress almost tolerable.
"It did come in handy for this morning's ceremony. Maybe you should thank LoveBlood for her generosity," Visha suggested, always the peacemaker.
I did not huff, nor did I stamp a foot, and I certainly did not lean into her hug. "Thank you, Baroness. Formal attire certainly leant the ceremony some additional gravitas." Somehow, I managed to say all of that with a straight face and even avoided pointing out that, unlike me, the ship's chaplains had not worn wimples large enough to act as sails, let alone any billowing gowns.
"Could you imagine how embarrassing it would be if, after a mission like this, after a ship like that appears," the Baroness flicked her tail in the direction of the battlecruiser, "if you were found lacking for anything proper to wear?"
"Perish the thought," GreyDawn said straight-facedly, her amusement nevertheless obvious for all to feel.
I frowned. Curse her eyes, she was right. After yesterday's briefing, it was clear that CSR deliberately requested the DarkStar. I was certain that they hoped the venerable ship would not be needed on Harp's World, but even having the battlecruiser for the handover here on Forlorn Prospect would add to the story the Lady Legate was trying to build. But now... now they could spin a web about my great piety praying for DarkStar to save us all.
Damnable spooks and the webs they weave. May their blood boil in DarkStar's enmity, I cursed as my tail lashed at the deck.
"And you were lovely." VioletBlood preened as she broke the hug to look me over. "Then you even made time to talk to your subordinates. You're very caring and a wonderful Squadron commander."
"Thank you LoveBlood." I eyed her. "But are you sure this is just sweet talk?"
"I can't just be nice and complement you?" she blinked innocently.
Visha and I exchanged a look. "No?"
She pouted at us, but I remained resolute in my skepticism. Eventually, she gave first.
"Fine. Are you sure there's not more we need to know about this operation? You know, to better help support you when you go down to the surface tomorrow night?" Baroness VioletBlood asked, bold as brass and instantly justifying my very grounded reservations.
"Ah…" I glanced away, knowing the hurt I would see in their eyes from my admission. "I'm afraid… unfortunately, ladies, further details are well and truly restricted. All I can disclose is that it is for good reason."
I took no joy in having to hoard secrets from my Vs. It was not like I had been told any truly game changing truth, other than the nature of who owned the SilverHold. For DarkStar's sake we had spent two hours this morning going over meal etiquette, which was especially rich given the primary rule about food when around the Lords and Ladies was: Don't.
I glanced at Visha for support. She smiled at me, but even she did not know everything.
Part of me worried that Visha had her suspicions about the few things I kept from even her. She and her too-perceptive friend, Erya, had harbored suspicions about my own maturity and command skill all the way back when I was still Tanya von Degurechaff. But now... as Victorious Shadow, she possessed the advantage of the memories and experiences from her life as Viktoriya Serebryakov. Would she make the deductive leap? Had she made it already?
VioletBlood gave me a skeptical glance, then pointedly put her full attention onto the magical tuning fork GreyDawn was operating.
"I'll confess Primus, I suspected you wanted to talk to us about something important, but private, when you had us go all the way up to this isolated spot," GreyDawn admitted. "But even if you wanted me to play chaperone, I doubt you would have insisted on me casting a baffle for you."
"Not to mention you did not bring Primus Hood up here, so you only wanted those of us from the old days," VioletBlood said with a little grin on her face.
"She's taking some extra time to help her Flight mourn. A more personal memorial instead of the pomp and ceremony the chaplains and I could provide." I rubbed my eyes. There was a lot I wanted to tell them, but despite my innate paranoia, I found it hard to disagree with CSR's assessment of the threat. Even now, I was loathe to think too much about the Lords and Ladies.
I had spent a lifetime planning, plotting, fighting, and defeating a being of near omniscience. And after all that toil and trouble, the concept of going up against creatures with even an echo of Being X's powers was not an experience I relished.
I looked over the trio of pilots. "Your mission tomorrow will be critical. If the situation requires it, you may get some... strange targeting orders."
Visha gave a sad little nod while VioletBlood's customary laughter stilled. and GreyDawn looked thoughtful. "That does explain why the brass horns wanted a Strike Squadron despite having an over-abundance of Torpedo launchers."
"Lances do give air strikes a personal touch." I gave them a hollow smile. "Invidia and her associates aren't lying. This mission, the SilverHold it... it actually is important. Quite so."
GreyDawn's expression turned thoughtful. "There's only a few reasons to have such restriction of information, especially after the mission's complete."
Visha gave her a calculating but cautioning look.
The older Legionary Flier held up a hand. "I know better than to speculate on such matters. Especially with how both of our Wing's Imperial Heroines were tapped for honor guard duties."
VioletBlood exhaled and gave me a toothy smile. "You want us to be your special backup," she purred.
"Nothing so arch." I held up a hand. "For tomorrow you'll get a briefing, but that won't give the full context. You will be one of the contingency plans."
"And if we are... hypothetically told to fire right by your position, you'd rather have Lance fire close than some angry spirits maneuvering multi-ton Torpedoes a stone's throw away?" Visha asked.
"Hypothetically, of course," VioletBlood added once again embracing me. "You have trained us to provide pin-point targeting even with the most powerful of weapons."
"Something like that," I allowed, wondering why she was being so amorous today. "Regardless, we should let Invidia and the Lady Legate have their secrets and schemes."
GreyDawn shook her head.
Visha also gave a little smile.
And VioletBlood's amusement was blatant.
"What?" I demanded.
"You brought us up here for a private, secret, intimate, meeting" the Baroness put her wings over my shoulders for emphasis, "all to reassure us that we need to trust the spooks no matter how crazy their orders were."
I sighed as my tail flicked. "There's more to it than that..." I admitted. In truth, there was little my Squadron could do to change events if I felt that CSR had... overstepped their bounds. The DarkStar was at the center of a battle group that out-massed and out-classed us in every way and every asset. I suppose the Tarantula Hawk was a quieter platform, but it was not like I had any influence over the ship's commander Praefectus Commodore SharpTail.
But I did have the utter loyalty of my pilots, I could only hope my good works would be enough to nudge the needle in a less catastrophic direction. "You all have Gorgon Rigs and I've trained you to keep situational awareness. Visha, you may have to take the initiative, like we've trained in the past. "
Visha's sunny disposition clouded slightly. "Like the good old days?" she asked, picking up my subtext. In our previous lives, we often got a lot closer to the ground.
I nodded. "Fabia will be down with me, so unfortunately we won't be able to rely on her for those kinds of heroics this time."
VioletBlood cackled with partial understanding. "You want us to react before we get orders?"
"That's a fine line," GreyDawn said with studied neutrality.
"Legionary officers are supposed to show initiative." I flashed my fangs. "Invidia should be well aware of what she's getting into when she dragged us into this."
My moment was ruined a bit by VioletBlood putting her chin on my shoulder to where her horns rubbed against mine. Her amusement and lo…loyalty coming through the now very close connection. Her tail had also wrapped around my leg which in a more public setting would have been at risk of undermining my authority. However, given the smiles Visha and GreyDawn were trying to hold in I suppose I had less to fear in that regard. If only I could keep my own tail from nervously curling.
+++++
The walk back down to the second deck where our bunks and briefing rooms was a laborious journey down twelve stories of ladderway after ladderway, helped not one bit by the heap of fripperies under which I had to labor. Sometimes, the route had a detour with a platform that went to one side before we resumed the seemingly endless set of steps. These corridors had hatches that led to the various inspection gantries that weaved among the lifting cells that kept the massive assault carrier aloft. They also provided access to the wide array of warding, veiling, and teleportation systems that had been built into the structural frames and skin of the airship.
It was at the first of these landings that we ran into a pair of grenadier friends of Lares's. My notoriety only extended so far, but his vouching for me did give us a measure of privacy as the Legionaries pocketed their dice, picked up their kit, and escorted us the rest of the way. I appreciated their vigilance but, if I wanted to sabotage the ship, I literally had access to magazines containing ship-killing ordnance.
If anything, the workout was a nice distraction for my mind. I knew that many Legionaries, especially members of the ground teams, would climb up and down these ladders as part of their PT. There was also a set of corridors on the third deck that roughly circumnavigated the ship, giving a running track that was over eleven hundred feet long. Five laps was close enough to a mile for most purposes.
My own pilots made use of those facilities. The greenhorns were long used to my training ethos and did not complain, and Lucia's mob also was fine with burning off excess energy.
It was fortunate that we were not winded or fatigued when we made it out of the upper reaches of the ship and into the bow area of the second deck. Our bunks were not far from here, nor were the rest of the amenities of "pilot country".
We had just gotten down to this deck, and were passing the smoking lounge, when the outer doors opened and Invidia stepped out. She gave me her cold self-satisfied smile and stepped aside to let a pair of Fleet officers exit the lounge.
To my surprise, both bore the Praefectus rank. The shorter of the two was a pugnacious looking woman with a rounded face framed by a short bob of amber-colored hair, dusky grey skin a few shades darker than my Signifier's, and a solid fire-plug like body. I recognized her asValentina SharpTail, mistress of the Tarantula Hawk. Wearing the basic dark blue coveralls all shippies wore as their default duty-wear, the only sign of her station were the gold saber-over-oar pins at her collar.
Next to her, however, was a woman resplendent in Fleet Whites. DarkStar's Blood, she even had a sword buckled to her waist and a Preserver Award tied around her throat! The gold-winged ruby teardrop was the mirror image of the one I bore with my own set of immaculate Legion Blacks.
Willowy and well-formed, the white-clad demon moved with an utter confidence and grace perfectly matched by the haughty expression carved into hauntingly familiar aquiline features. Her skin, an interesting sapphire shade, contrasted strongly with the pair of deep amber eyes that, for all of her studied aloofness, were focused intently on me. Her proud head was crowned with tresses pulled back into a severe bun whose structure was maintained by silver pins adorned with quadripoint stars.
The Lady Legate followed up close behind her, cutting off any possibility of a conversation absent her contributions. "There you are Countess DiamondDust, I'm sure you know of our skipper SharpTail, but please allow me the pleasure of introducing Praefectus Commodore Countess SunsetFrost, commanding HFV DarkStar."
"Please, do." I saluted, keeping in my apprehension. "A pleasure, Ma'am."
SunsetFrost gave me an imperious smile and an approving glance to VioletBlood before returning the salute. "We've heard much about you," she said in the same elegantly vicious voice that I had heard when her ship had arrived on Harp's World. "I must say, Countess, a most impressive display," she purred, her words as sharp as the sword on her hip.
It was quite impressive when you summoned her ship with your prayers, wasn't it? a traitorous voice teased in my mind.
"You are far too kind. I just did my duty to House, Empire, and Our Hallowed Lady." I added the last upon noting the other myriad of DarkStar regalia she wore. Like me, she bore a set of ruby earrings that practically had to be relics, as well as some silver bands near the end of her tail and a set of engraved bracelets. That the iconography on all of her jewelry indicated that we shared the same sect in the Church was the deciding factor in the pious addition. What use were cultural connections if they went unused, after all.
Something like genuine joy, with a dash of religious fervor flared across her narrow ascetic's face, and immediately I regretted my impulsive choice. Oh Hallowed Lady, was this the kind of madwoman the Admiralty put in charge of a battlecruiser? And thanks to LoveBlood, I'm meeting her dressed up as a nun!
"My, she really is a pious thing, Angela," SunsetFrost noted to the Lady Legate in a breathtaking bit of familiarity as her tail swished.
"Her record is quite clear on the matter," JadeJavelin dryly stated. I noticed she had refrained from expressing her own thoughts on the matter.
"In fact, she was just giving religious advice to one of her pilots who is interested in converting," VioletBlood merrily chirped in with her own eager pride.
Her fellow noble redhead eyed her approvingly. "That is right and proper. She clearly has taken the oaths of the Sisterhood as well." The DarkStar's commander studied my fiancee and then looked over Visha, and finally GreyDawn.
"Forgive me for the lack of full introductions. May you have the pleasure of meeting Primus Centurions Victorious Shadow of my First Flight, Baroness VioletBlood of my Second, and Signifier GreyDawn, my senior pilot. The Baroness is my betrothed and Victorious is my mistress." Somehow, I managed to keep an even tone throughout the ludicrous introduction; it all sounded so tawdry when laid out so bluntly.
SunsetFrost nodded to them and gave me what seemed like a reassuring smile but there was also that glee about her. I pushed down any misgivings; having the approval of the commander of the DarkStar was a good connection to have, in the military, the church, and among the nobility. "Ah, young love. You'll treasure this time, but... enough reminiscing. I'm not just here to exchange pleasantries."
Behind her, Invidia gave me a wintry smile.
"Volantes Prefect Centurion Countess DiamondDust, it has come to my attention that you will not be properly dressed for your upcoming honor guard duties." SunsetFrost's tone was mild, but I had been around acerbic nobles enough to spot the adder in the grass. She tapped the hilt of her sword. "I would be more than happy to loan you a weapon as well."
My mind raced as I went over the lessons in deportment and high-society survival I had been given in the capital last year, not to mention the diplomatic refresher Invidia had been running me through recently. I wasn't sure about the game she was playing at, but I had a reasonable guess.
"Then if I'm not too forward, allow me to thank you for your generosity in helping in such a way," I graciously said, bowing my horns. "You must allow me to make this up to you."
"It's no grand gesture," SunsetFrost assured. "I'm happy to help another servant of the Imperatrix and a member of the faith."
"Oh, but I insist," I pressed, trying to keep my wings from fluffing. I had no idea what she was offering, but at least I was correct that there was some sort of deal. Besides, insisting seemed like the right and aristocratic thing to do.
Meanwhile, GreyDawn seemed bemused by the noble dance happening around her, but wisely held her tongue.
"If you insist..." SunsetFrost gave a theatrical sigh as she undid her sword belt and held the ebony scabbard with its silver-fitting out to me. "I shall have to take your favor in return as an act of charity."
I may have miscalculated. I privately admitted within the confines of my skull. Externally, I numbly took the blade and said, "That is more than acceptable."
"I told you, you should have brought the sword your mother and sister made for you," VioletBlood remarked before helping me belt the bloody thing around my waist.
"You should listen to your Baroness," SunsetFrost laughed, obviously amused by LoveBlood's outburst.
I simply nodded and kept in a sigh. What was the point of all these bloody rules of etiquette if a noblewoman could blatantly violate them whenever she pleased?
Centering myself, I bowed at her. "Thank you for the loan. I will use it with honor and return the blade to you or forfeit my life."
"I expect no less," SunsetFrost waved and glanced to her fellow ship commander. "And you were worried about the Hoof-sloggers, Sharpie. Both Imperial Heroines are impeccable young ladies."
SharpTail shrugged. "I am glad they met with your approval. I'll pass your compliments on to Tribune Quirinus."
I kept a glassy smile. The Lady Legate was having the commander of the DarkStar loan items to Fabia and myself? I wondered what she had gotten. Maybe a sidearm. I wondered if I could trade Fabia the sword for the pistol.
"We shall do that directly! I have a bit of time before I must go back to my own ship. Angela, are you free for a bit more?" SunsetFrost asked the Lady Legate.
"But of course." JadeJavelin nodded.
I was slightly in awe of the battlecruiser commander's force of personality. Not only did the Lady Legate outrank her, but CSR's sinister clout made it so that most officers would listen to the "suggestions" of someone even of lower rank. It seemed that SunsetFrost felt that such rules were for people who didn't have a capital ship at their beck and call. Or maybe it was specifically that capital ship that gave her the political cover for such familiarity.
Or maybe SunsetFrost is simply like that. I thought. She wouldn't be the first officer I ran into with such an odd kind of charisma. Always best to steer clear of their chaos, I say.
"Let us go talk to the Volantes Tribune then," Sharptail said, giving a slight nod to the Lady Legate. Yes, despite being the same rank as SunsetFrost, the Tarantula Hawk's captain was more accommodating to CSR. Which was expected, seeing how the high-veiled assault carrier was made for the exact kind of sketchy operations JadeJavelin and her associates got up to. Fleet or not, Commodore SharpTail was clearly beholden to the force sinistre the CSR represented.
Invidia coughed. "If you'll accept my apology, Ma'ams; I have other duties."
"Nor a formal Apology I'm sure," SunsetFrost warmly said. "I just loaned out my sword and my sidearm, Centurion."
"Nothing so arch," the Lady Legate assured. "Invidia is merely entertaining some of our other... guests and should make sure that all their needs are seen to."
SunsetFrost nodded before turning to me. "Best of luck Countess DiamondDust, and may DarkStar guide your hand."
"May Her wisdom bring you enlightenment," I automatically replied.
The DarkStar's captain bowed her horns to me while the Tarantula Hawk's shook her head slightly. The Lady Legate then left with them going further forward towards the ship's bow while Invidia slipped off to a side passage.
"That's certainly a positive development for tomorrow," GreyDawn stated.
I gave her a look and eyed the rest of the corridor. It was just the three of us. Where had the grenadiers gone? Were they helping route traffic to detour around us? Or did they have the sense to, upon seeing a gaggle of brass-horns, slip away to avoid the attention of senior officers?
Damnation…how do they do that? I wondered, half bewildered and half jealous. If I could sneak off half as easily, I wouldn't get stuck in these impossible situations nearly as often.
"Oh yes, I think she likes you, Countess," Visha cheered.
"Clearly, she has good taste," VioletBlood eyed the sword before giving me a toothy smile. "And you were worried about tomorrow."
"Yes, I was," I sighed, patting the hilt.
End Chapter 30
And we're nearing the end as the SilverHold will soon be given back to its rightful owners, and everything will be fixed. The next chapter REDACTED has over 8k written and is on the last scene of the last chapter of this arc.
Thanks to Ahuva, DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Larc , Readhead, metaldragon868 , and ScarletFox for checking and editing this chapter. Special Thanks to Endymion for the idea of having the DarkStar's captain loan her sword to Tauria. There's been great contributions from all my editors as they help really polish this work.
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