Last of the Immortals (The Jessica Keller Chronicles Book 3) (3 page)

Both civilians seemed taken aback. That didn’t surprise Jessica. They might have been intimately involved with the Fleet for their whole lives, Miguel as a shipwright, Indira as a mother to a young officer, but they were still civilians. And it wasn’t even their daughter being honored. But they were more than happy to stand in.

The First Lord waited for the warriors below him to quiet before he spoke again.

“Today,” he boomed, beaming in his own way, “we gather to add a new name to the ranks of those entrusted to the highest level of responsibility in the Fleet. To honor a young woman who has gone, again and again, above and beyond the call of duty for her adopted homeland. To welcome her to our ranks as an officer, a leader, an inspiration for others.”

He paused to let the room breathe.

“Yeoman Moirrey Kermode, citizen of
Ramsey
, adopted daughter of
Ladaux
, would you please rise and join us?”

The noise had been intense before. It became almost painful now, every throat in the room cheering and screaming themselves hoarse with enthusiasm. Every one of these people, Jessica included, was alive today, several times over, because of this woman.

And they loved her.

Moirrey rose from her seat, trailed today by Jessica’s steward, Marcelle Travere.

Even from down here, Jessica could see that the young woman was blushing clear to the tips of her ears. But her smile might have lit a star.

Moirrey walked to the front of the stage and came to rest between Miguel and Indira, indeed
in loco parentis
today, with Marcelle behind her, so much taller, but not looming.

The day was too big to overshadow Moirrey.

Nils Kasum let the sound drag on far longer than he normally would have, understanding the value his crews placed on the young lady from
Ramsey
.

When the noise finally started to recede, Jessica watched him stride back to the podium and pull out a folded parchment from his inner breast pocket, along with a pen. Carefully, he flattened it out and signed it at the bottom.

He turned and walked three steps to stand in front of Yeoman Kermode, before holding up the paper.

“By order of the Senate of Aquitaine, on this day signed by Senator Tadej Horvat, Premier, and Nils Kasum, First Lord of the Fleet, we declare to all that Moirrey Kermode of the planet
Ramsey
is hereby promoted to the rank of Centurion of the Fleet. May she exercise this responsibility with authority, intellect, and care, for she is our representative in all things.”

He handed the paper to centurion Kermode as the room erupted again.

Jessica found herself on her feet with the rest of the squadron, cheering, stamping, and howling.

Indira carefully pinned the single white stripe around Moirrey’s upper right arm, crying with joy as she did.

There were hugs all around. Even the Premier got surprised by a hugging assault from Jessica’s mother before he realized what was happening.

Jessica smiled. This much she had insisted on.

Now, the hard part could begin.

Chapter II

Date of the Republic May 28, 394 Fleet HQ, Ladaux System

Nils took a deep breath and considered the man seated across the desk from him. Tall, blond, good looking. If he had asked Central Casting to send him down a heroic action lead to star as the God of Thunder, the first number they called would have been this man’s.

The uniform of the
Republic of Aquitaine Navy
just accentuated his appearance. Three stripes on his right bicep for a Command Centurion and the unit patch of the battlecruiser
Stralsund,
pride of the fleet, on his left shoulder.

“Arott,” Nils said carefully, “we don’t have a lot of time before I have to commit. This conversation does not leave this room. Ever. Am I clear?”

“Yes, First Lord,” Command Centurion Arott Whughy said carefully, straightening in his chair and setting down the mug of coffee he had been sipping. His face lost something. Perhaps a little of that carefree smile drained out.

“Good,” Nils continued. “In a few minutes, there will be an all–hands meeting for a group of people that I am about to send out on a
forlorn hope
to try to rescue
Ballard
from
Fribourg Empire
Admiral Emmerich Wachturm, the so–called Red Admiral.”

Nils paused to study this man. Like Jessica Keller, Arott was another one of his excellent protégés. Unlike Jessica, this man was kin. All of the Fifty Families of the Republic were related, cousins to some degree, but Arott Whughy was only two degrees removed. That made him practically family.

Fortunately, the man had never attempted to trade on those connections, other than to be one of the best, and let his natural skill and confidence carry him to great heights. Nils could see Arott Whughy on this side of the desk, one of these days, if he played his cards right.

Arott nodded silently.

Good
.

“I have two choices about who I can attach to this task force from Home Fleet,” Nils said. “If I send you, you will be the senior Command Centurion, both by virtue of time in grade, and by command of the largest vessel. However, you will not be in command.”

“No Fleet Lord going with us, sir?”

“No, Centurion Whughy.”

“Then why not, sir?”

“Because I’m putting Jessica Keller in charge, and you will need to take orders from her.”

Nils watched his former student bristle. Not much. Mostly in the eyes and the set of the jaw.

“May I ask why, sir?”

The voice was contained. Almost compact. Barely any emotional signature. Another good sign. Nils needed a team player here, not another MacArthur.

“Arott,” Nils said as he leaned back, subtly breaking the tension.
We’re just two soldiers having a chat, right?
“I would rank you in the top one percent of centurions in the Fleet right now. You will be a Fleet Lord soon, and a damned good one. You will have a career most people will be jealous of.”

Nils paused as the man absorbed the compliment. Arott even smiled a touch.

“Thank you, sir.”

“However,” the First Lord continued, “I would put Jessica Keller in the top three people currently serving. You were one of the youngest Command Centurions in a generation. She was
the
youngest in more than a century. And
the
youngest ever squadron commander. If she survives
Ballard
, she will be the youngest–ever serving Fleet Lord. I picked you for this mission because I believe you can take orders from her, or from her First Officer, Denis Jež, who should have been promoted to Command Centurion before now. This is
Auberon
’s show.
Stralsund
is there because Jessica needs a battlesword in her left hand.”

It took a moment for the younger man to absorb the information, perhaps a touch grumpily.

Downside of never having failed in your life, Arott? We need to teach failure better to our cadets, so they can learn to respond quicker.

“What are we facing, First Lord?”

Good. Internalized. Understood. Accepted.

Yes, a man I can trust. He really might be First Lord, one of these days.

“The Imperial battleship
Amsel
,” Nils replied. “Her usual consorts include a handful of escort frigates, a light cruiser, and a battle cruiser. The light cruiser is probably still
SturmTeufel
, but
Muscva
was killed at
Qui–Ping
, and we don’t know who is likely to replace her yet.”

“And what do we have to stop him?”

“
Stralsund
,
Auberon
, the Destroyer Leader
Brightoak
, the Heavy Destroyer
Rajput
, and the Escort
CR–264
.”

He watched Arott blink in surprise.

“That’s it? Against a battleship? And Emmerich Wachturm?”

“I’m also sending you, Arott Whughy, plus Denis Jež, Robbie Aeliaes, Alber’ d’Maine, Tom Kigali, and Jessica Keller. Plus a young woman named Moirrey Kermode.”

“I don’t know that last name, sir,” Arott said, confused.

“You will, Centurion. Trust me. You will.”

Ξ

The air in the chamber crackled with tension.

Unlike a normal staff meeting, this was limited to just the people seated around a single conference table, without the usual junior officers along the wall, or yeomen ready to handle tasks and locate information.

Just the senior people. That alone made it interesting.

Arott knew almost none of these people by sight, only reputation, having spent his entire career either on the Primary Front with First War Fleet, or rotated back to
Ladaux
and Home Fleet.

As he was introduced around the table, he was struck by how much the people around him reacted as almost a single entity. It went beyond even a school of fish reacting in quick sequence.

No, it was a single being.

Arott would have expected the First Lord to be the center of gravity, around which everything rotated, but instead it was very obviously Keller.

In person, she was surprisingly small for the amount of reputation she had accumulated. Arott was tall, but Jessica barely cleared his shoulder. However, she was built like a warrior, hard and toned. Feminine, but not girlie. Attractive and brunette. But there was something off. He couldn’t place it.

Arott had followed the events of her Court Martial after
Iger
. Almost every officer in the Fleet had done so. You could almost divide the Fighting Lords and the Noble Lords into camps, just by asking their opinion of Jessica Keller and her eventual acquittal.

Perhaps it was the eyes. They didn’t seem to focus on him when he spoke, instead seeing a spot on the horizon. The voice was subtly off as well. Flat. Almost mechanical.

After the introductions, and everyone was seated, Arott took a sneaky moment during the First Lord’s opening comments to study the people around him.

Command Centurion Robertson Aeliaes.
Brightoak
. Tall and built like a swimmer, with chocolate–brown skin and golden eyes. Apparently one of Jessica’s former squadron mates under that idiot Bogdan Loncar. Aeliaes was a man with a reputation for being smart, well–prepared, and constantly on the verge of insubordination against stupid orders. Arott liked him immediately.

Command Centurion Alber’ d’Maine.
Rajput
. A man of average height, but very broad across the shoulders. The sort of physique you got from working with heavy weights and not a lot of running. A quiet man of few words that were almost growled. A warrior on a ship of war.

Command Centurion Tomas Kigali.
CR–264
. Nicknamed
The Yachtsman
. Current holder of almost every interesting and important sailing record for distance, speed, or extreme soloing. Physically almost Arott’s doppelganger, being tall and thin and blond. Psychologically almost a world away. Kigali had an easy smile and breezy way about him that one would expect to find on a tropical island somewhere, probably with a surfboard in hand and a rum–based iced–something in the other, wearing a shirt with flamingos printed on it.

Command Centurion Waldemar Ihejirika. Fleet Replenishment Freighter
Mendocino
. The forgotten Service in the Fleet. The mailman, the milkman, the corner store. The quiet professionals who kept everyone else in socks and fresh cream. The young man, Ihejirika, looked nothing like his surname, being so pale as to be almost translucent, offset by straight black hair so dark that it looked painted. But he had the serious look of a professional mechanic facing an unruly ground vehicle. That would be helpful.

Senior centurion Denis Jež. Per the First Lord, the man
was
the commander of
Auberon
, while Jessica commanded the entire squadron, acting as her own private Fleet Lord. And, according to the stories and rumors circulating in the Fleet, it was an amazingly successful team. Jež sized him up with a glance and nodded.
So, secure that he was still the second dog. Good enough, for now
.

The last woman at the table had no place that Arott could identify. She was just a centurion, and a newly commissioned one, to watch her glance down at the single broad stripe encircling her upper arm occasionally, and to touch it in awe. She had spoken with a strange accent, almost like a song bird, an image reinforced by her tiny size and overall pixieness.

And everyone else went out of their way to practically fawn over the young woman. Who was she?
What
was she?

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Nils Kasum said, drawing all eyes back to himself. “Time is short. I wish I could do more to help, but I cannot risk it, even over something as precious as
Ballard
.”

Arott watched Nils size up the room, pain evident in his eyes. It was clear that the man was preparing himself, steeling himself, to say goodbye, firmly convinced that the people before him would never come home.

They were a forlorn hope, the Charge of the Light Brigade into the Valley of Death. At least in the First Lord’s mind.

“There is nothing more to say, except thank you,” the First Lord continued. “I may represent the Fleet in the halls of power, but you are the Fleet. As I said earlier, we can sleep at night because you will be there, holding the wall. I will turn things over to Jessica for your briefing.”

Arott watched her rise and face the room.

He had always enjoyed strong, sexy women, if taller. But there was something different about Jessica Keller. Something wrong.

He remembered the video of her from the Court Martial. Calm, still, focused. A warrior facing unstoppable odds, intent on overcoming them. And she had.

Here, the odds were even worse. This squadron could probably take on a battleship, or her escorts. He could not envision how they would defeat both. But that was why she was Jessica Keller.