The Shape of Surrender

“One mark until emergence, Crown Daughter!”

“Noted. Complete preparations for our return to realspace,” Nalyra ordered from her seat. She casually flicked through a few of the screens hovering around her — summaries and reports discussing the current situation on Kelran.

Tor’laen stood next to her at the moment, leaning forward, his eye darting between the holographic images. His presence at her side steadied her after the emotional upheaval of the morning.

Perhaps she had been foolish to think she could keep the Bridge hidden in the long term. However, she had at least hoped the two of them would have been more…settled before Tor’laen learned about it. A miscalculation, and one that had wounded him deeply. The Crown Daughter would carry that regret for a long time, she was sure.

“Thirty seconds to emergence!” The report came from one of the helmswomen at the front of the bridge. “Putting the countdown on screen.”

Nalyra watched the glowing numerals appear on the main viewport.

Yes, Tor’laen’s rage had been unsettling that morning. In the moment it had felt excessive, but looking back, Nalyra could understand. Having lived her whole life among Zakkili — and being one herself — mental contact and influence had always felt natural. Commonplace. Not so for her consort.

Perhaps the worst part was having that anger directed at her. It had been…unpleasant, to say the least. Especially with their Bridge laying their emotions bare, the depth of his rage and hurt had surprised her. She mentally shuddered at the memory.

Careful to keep her face and posture casual, Nalyra gently reached for his mind with hers. Not pushing in, just enough to brush his thoughts — the mental equivalent of lightly running a hand along his arm. After a breath, he pushed back, his thoughts rubbing slightly against hers. She dared to linger there for a moment, before withdrawing, satisfied. She knew it was selfish, especially after the revelation that morning, but she needed it. Needed to know he wouldn’t withdraw from her. And he had even reciprocated, meeting her small mental touches. He really was spoiling her.

Goodness Nalyra, look at you. She mentally chided herself. Clinging to your Ydani like a child to a favorite blanket. Zikara would laugh her fool head off if she could peek inside your mind right now.

“Emerging from subspace in five,” announced the helmswoman. “Four. Three. Two. One. Brace!”

The Saint’s Aegis burst back into realspace, the surge jolting everyone’s balance for a heartbeat.

Nalyra’s Citadel emerged into the midst of a firefight.

Even before the crew had regained their balance, the viewports lit up, the ship’s void shields flaring as they intercepted projectiles and debris.

“Increase power to void shields!” Vessa immediately ordered, springing to her feet. “Bring the crew to action stations! Full gravimetric scan, and sweep for combat credentials, now!”

“Yes, Admiral!”

The bridge burst into a flurry of activity.

“Should we scramble fighter wings, Vessa?” Mikka asked, taking her finger off of her earpiece for a moment.

“Negative. I’m not throwing our girls out into that meat grinder.” The Admiral shook her head.

The battle lines of the fleets were absurdly close, less than ten kilometers separating them. The empyrean equivalent of a barroom brawl.

Nalyra shook off her surprise.

“Broadcast me over every common frequency!” She stood, drawing herself up. “Attention all combatants, this is Royal Hand Nalyra, of the Saint’s Aegis. By my authority under the Crown, I demand you cease fire and divert power from weapons! Failure to comply will be regarded as hostile action against the Monarchy and met with lethal force!”

“Broadcast sent, Royal Hand!”

There was a momentary pause as the viewports filled with a pulse of blue. Zikara’s Citadel, the Martyr’s Blade, emerged from subspace into the chaos.

“Incoming hail, Crown Daughter!”

“Put it through,” Nalyra ordered, returning to her seat.

A comm window opened on the main viewport, revealing a harried-looking Zakkili woman. Red lights flashed and alarms echoed behind her.

“Royal Hand, thank the Maker you are here,” she said with a sigh of relief. “I am Captain Filika of the Kelran Planetary Defense Force.”

“Captain,” Nalyra acknowledged. “What is the situation here?”

“An unknown fleet was detected on approach to Kelran,” the woman elaborated, her voice strained. “They bear no active combat credentials, and were unresponsive to all hails. The KPDF fleet burned out to intercept them, and they opened fire as soon as they were in range.”

“No combat credentials?” Nalyra furrowed her brow. “Pirates, Captain?”

“That was my first thought as well, Royal Hand.”

“Understood.” The Crown Daughter nodded. “Burn your fleet into shelter behind the Citadels. Our void shields shall keep you safe.”

“Yes, Royal Hand!” The Captain saluted, and cut the call.

“Combat credential sweep completed,” one of the bridge crew reported. “Updating targeting data, and looping in the Martyr’s Blade!”

Immediately, the myriad ships on the viewports were marked with either blue or red, denoting those carrying Monarchy credentials and those without.

With a measure of satisfaction, Nalyra noted that the blue-marked KPDF vessels were burning hard toward the shelter of the Citadels. Several of them already bore battle scars, sections of their armored plating glowing red with residual heat from the beating they had taken.

“The enemy fleet is starting withdrawal maneuvers. No signs of surrender, Royal Hand.”

“Those are standard Monarchy naval formations,” the Admiral said quietly from her station, staring at the viewports.

“Whatever their allegiance, these women dared to attack a world under the Monarchy’s protection,” Nalyra said, her voice carrying the full weight of her station. “Admiral, if you would.”

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“Weapons free!” Vessa roared. “I want those ships turned to molten slag!”

“Linking combat feeds with the Martyr’s Blade! Triangulating targets!”

“Targets identified! Launching first torpedo salvo!”

Nalyra watched as dozens of missiles launched from her Citadel, floating for a moment in the empyrean before their thrusters activated. The projectiles streaked across the darkness, homing in on their targets. At nearly the same time, Zikara’s Citadel launched its own salvo, the torpedoes working in tandem with those from Nalyra’s ship, speeding toward the enemy fleet. The pirates’ point defense weapons came to life, desperately trying to destroy the incoming projectiles.

There were just too many.

A number of the torpedoes were destroyed, detonating as the explosive munitions of the PD cannons found them, but most reached their marks. The missiles delivered their payloads, battering the enemy fleet. Some split into numerous smaller explosives, each one further depleting the shields they slammed into. Others spewed a viscous liquid, the substance spreading across the enemy’s void shields, glowing with heat and straining the ships’ reactors. Still more simply detonated in a straightforward explosion, sending thousands of pieces of shrapnel scattering, hitting multiple enemy shields.

“We’re reading numerous depleted void shields, Admiral!”

“Bring rail to bear! Fire at will!” Vessa ordered.

The Aegis shuddered as several of its heavy railguns fired, targeting the now-unprotected ships. The tungsten slugs, magnetically accelerated to nearly fifty kilometers per second, crossed the distance almost instantaneously. Even as they watched, a frigate seemed to simply cease to exist, most of the ship vaporized by the slug’s kinetic energy.

Elsewhere in the formation, a cruiser was caught by railgun fire from both the Aegis and the Blade, the ship jerking and breaking apart, tumbling into the empyrean in three pieces.

“Efficient,” Tor’laen muttered grimly from his place at Nalyra’s side. “Ever were your heavy and super-heavy railguns a cause for concern among the High Command. A single well placed shot could easily cripple even a Ydani flagship.”

A feeling of cold familiarity and controlled fear crept across their Bridge. Nalyra gently pushed back across their connection, letting Tor’laen know his feelings were reaching her. He caught her gaze and gave the tiniest nod, his leaked emotion dwindling away.

In the few moments their small exchange took, several more fleeing ships were annihilated by the railguns of the two Citadels. Curiously, the retreating vessels still continued to sporadically return fire, their weapons impacting harmlessly against the Citadels’ void shields.

“Second torpedo volley away!”

More missiles streaked across the emptiness of the empyrean, racing towards the enemy ships. Even as they smashed into the void shields of the retreating fleet, small pulses of blue lit up the viewports. Apparently, they had built up enough reactor charge to dive once more.

“Enemy diving away!” came the report from one of the bridge officers.

“Take down any that you can!” Vessa ordered, leaning forward over her station. “Every one that escapes is another potential pirate lurking around Monarchy space.”

Most of the enemy fleet safely dived away, vanishing with flashes of blue. One last ship, a destroyer, wasn’t as lucky. Railgun slugs from both the Aegis and the Blade struck it midship, punching massive holes in the sizable ship. It immediately lost propulsion, its engines going dark. A breath later, the drifting ship vanished in a brilliant flash. The ship’s reactor had clearly been clipped by one of the tungsten projectiles, the delayed explosion consuming the entire craft.

The bridge went still for a moment, all eyes fixed on the viewports.

“Reading no remaining hostiles, Crown Daughter, Admiral.” The report came from one of the officers near the front.

“Return from action stations,” Vessa ordered. “Divert power away from weapons, but maintain combat-ready sensors. Give me one last gravimetric and thermal scan before we declare the matter finished.”

“Yes, Admiral!”

Nodding once, Vessa turned and made her way over to the Crown Daughter’s seat.

“Nalyra, permission to mount a salvage operation once things settle down?”

“Permission granted,” the Crown Daughter replied instantly. If Vessa was asking for it, there had to be a good reason. “You suspect something about these pirates?” She let sarcasm twist the last word.

“I do. This fleet…they did not behave like pirates should. Something more is lurking here.”

“May I ask what you mean, Admiral?” Tor’laen interjected. “How are pirates supposed to behave?” He seemed puzzled by the statement.

“Have you never encountered pirates before, Consort?” Vessa’s voice held no disdain, only mild surprise.

“I have not.” Tor’laen shook his head. “The concept is unheard of among my people,” he added upon seeing the curiosity on their faces. “All of our ships, even cargo vessels and civilian transports, are controlled by the military, under the authority of High Command. Were a ship to act outside their given orders, they would be declared renegade, and swiftly dealt with.”

“Quite severe,” Nalyra noted quietly.

“Certainly a different type of military control,” Vessa said, nodding at the Ydani. “But to answer your question — pirates tend to be…disorganized, to say the least. They are usually women dishonorably discharged from the navy, or perhaps civilians with delusions of power and grandeur, simply because they got their hands on an old surplus frigate or cruiser.” Vessa’s voice carried a distinct note of disdain. “And they tend to recruit crew from the dregs of society — women and men who lack the discipline needed to lead a productive life.”

“The scum growing at the bottom of the Monarchy, to put it more distinctly,” Nalyra said with a small grin, leaning back in her seat.

Tor’laen gave a small huff of disbelief.

“A civilian acquiring a cruiser. Absurd.”

“Within the Monarchy, it’s not that uncommon. However, they are not navy, and lack the necessary training and experience. As such, the tactics we just saw — an ordered retreat, precharged reactors for emergency dives — are almost never seen among pirates,” Vessa finished.

“Normally, they would have scattered like rats as soon as one Citadel emerged, let alone two,” Nalyra added.

“I hope — I believe — that what we may find in the wreckage will be illuminating,” the Admiral said, glancing back at the viewports. “By your leave, Crown Daughter.”

Nalyra inclined her head, and the Admiral returned to her station.

“What are your thoughts, Tor’laen?” Nalyra asked, glancing over at the Ydani.

“I was under the impression that we were tasked with settling a trade dispute,” he returned dryly. “Yet we arrived in the middle of a heated battle.”

“When such powerful Noble Houses are involved, things tend to…get out of hand rather quickly,” she said with a mirthless chuckle.

“You believe this attack is part of the dispute?”

“I find it far too convenient to be unrelated.” Nalyra drummed her fingers on her chair’s armrest. “Not to mention the fact that they had the numbers to credibly challenge the fleet stationed here. I assure you, the Monarchy would not allow such a large group of pirates to exist unchecked within our territory.”

Before he could respond, a soft ping came from Nalyra’s communicator. She withdrew the device, briefly pulling a face at the sight of her sister’s name on the screen.

“Of course Zikara would ignore proper decorum and message me directly,” she muttered, just loud enough for Tor’laen to hear. He gave her a very slight grin as she tapped the screen to open the message.

Want to start with the planetary governor, or the head of the KPDF?

Nalyra gave a small huff, and quickly typed her reply.

Why not both? Have the governor call the commander down, and we can catch two levik birds with a single snare.

Zikara’s answer came almost instantly.

Oh, you wicked woman. I like it. Meet you at the capitol complex?

One bell.

Yes.

Nalyra looked up from the screen to find Tor’laen’s gaze on her.

“Something on your mind, consort?”

He blinked, as if surprised by the question.

“Nothing in particular,” he said after a moment. “I am just satisfied that I will be able to accompany you during this.”

This time it was Nalyra’s turn to blink in surprise. After a breath, she could feel a grin spreading across her face.

“Yes. As I expected, being a Shield Consort has its advantages, does it not?” she purred.

“As you say, Crown Daughter.”

“Excellent. Then let us start our preparations,” Nalyra said, rising from her seat. “We shall meet up with Royal Hand Zikara, and demand some answers.” She brushed a finger against Tor’laen’s arm, beckoning him to follow. “Two Star Citadels emerged into an active firefight, and I fully intend to yank some mindthreads until I get a satisfactory explanation.”