POV: Kaelen Strathmore
Kaelen walked over to a terminal in his room and punched in the command code for the bridge. "Commander Rhen, report to my quarters immediately. Bring the detailed operational map of the entire fleet. I want to know the current positions of every single Frigate and Corvette we have left, and I want to know the financial status of House Dierdik's assets in the Aquila and Xy'an sectors. No, scratch that. I want a complete, full-spectrum analysis of every known Dierdik-owned vessel, every known corporate agent, and every known associate of Jarl Dierdik, starting with his latest exile location. We are done being obedient dogs to the Council's niceties."
Rhen's voice was hesitant but obedient. "Admiral, are you sure we should be escalating things? We're already stretching our fuel reserves thin with the current patrol routes, and the Aide requires her jump drives to be serviced before we jump again."
Kaelen leaned back, the image of the last time he had seen Mark alive searing behind his eyelids. The memory of the young man he'd raised, the one who hated the VIC with a burning passion and dreamed of a better Empire, fueled the cold fire in his heart.
"Escalating, Commander? I believe that is the wrong way to word it. What we are doing is a simple shift in tactics. Up until now, we've been hunting Jarl Dierdik. Now, we will hunt everything he owns, everything he loves, and everyone who protects the little shit. And when his father feels enough pain, when House Dierdik feels their pockets burning, when they become desperate enough, they will toss him at our feet. Hell, Gared himself will probably be thrown to us as a sacrificial lamb, thinking they can negotiate and mitigate the damage being done."
Kaelen looked at his reflection in the dark glass, his gaunt, unshaven face, his bloodshot eyes, his frayed uniform. He was no longer a professional man of the IUC Navy. He was a force of nature, driven by an unholy combination of paternal grief and the institutional rage of a betrayed officer.
"Commander," he finished, his voice steady now. It was as if the Admiral of old had returned to be in command of the rogue operation. "Prepare the fleet for an experimental high-risk deep-space jump. Inform the Captain of The Whisper of War that they are to be ready to run a false-flag operation into Vickie space. We are going to make it look like Jarl Dierdik is the victim of a coordinated IUC-VIC attack. He will have nowhere left to hide. And we will not stop until he is in chains, or better yet, a cooling corpse on my deck. Now, bring me the map, Commander. It's time to choose our next move."
Kaelen spent the next four hours in a state of hyper-focused energy, the exhaustion of the nightmare and the liquor replaced by the adrenaline of the confrontation. Rhen arrived, her face pale but resolved, carrying the bulky, physical map unit, a relic Kaelen had organized for the instance where navigational systems may be down. And a way to move untracked.
The map, spanning the tabletop, glowed with IUC territory in a muted azure, VIC space in a dangerous red, and the grey-green expanse of the Coalition. Rhen was already inputting the Dierdik assets, as dots of corporate yellow bloomed across the map.
"Alright, let's look at the collateral damage, Commander," Kaelen said, his voice brisk, professional, but the light in his eyes clearly showed a hint of mania. He was doing this to numb the guilt over the lost vessels. Calculating destruction was easier than counting the actual dead.
"We have eight Frigates and eight Corvettes remaining, Admiral," Rhen said, placing a hand on Kaelen's shoulder. "The two Destroyers and the three Cruisers are combat-ready, but we cannot sustain the attrition rate of the past two years, especially amongst the light vessels. The procurement office is starting to file suspicious discrepancy reports, noting the unusual frequency of 'meteoroid impact' and 'reactor failure' among vessels under your direct command."
Kaelen shrugged her hand off and waved a dismissive hand. "The procurement office can file their reports all they want, Rhen. I am going to be burying them under a thousand pages of strategic analysis. Now, on to Jarl Dierdik's latest evasion. Councilor Verrin claimed that he's been 'exiled.' The question is, where would he go?"
"Our deep-cover agent that's been following Gared Dierdik and documenting his every move, the one we used to get the initial location of Jarl, reported a list of orders that claimed Jarl was last seen boarding a diplomatic shuttle called the Swift Passage, just three days ago. The flight manifest was scrubbed, a good attempt to keep clean their tracks, but our agent cross-referenced its jump signature. He believes that it's headed toward the Seraphim Nebula. That's well beyond the IUC border and moving deeper into the Unclaimed Territories, skirting the rim of the former Orion Alliance space."
Kaelen traced the path on the map with a gloved finger. He'd finally put on his gloves, the ritual of command restoring a fragile sense of control for Rhen. The Seraphim Nebula was a lawless haven, thick with gas clouds and asteroid fields, where the IUC Navy couldn't fully and legally pursue someone without risking a full-blown interstellar incident.
"He's hiding among the scum of the galaxy. Perfect," Kaelen muttered. "He thinks the Unclaimed Territories will protect him. He thinks our hands are tied by the damned Senate. He underestimates how thin my remaining loyalty to that fucking bureaucracy is."
"Admiral, we cannot take the Indifference into the Nebula. Even without the political risk, the navigation is impossible for a capital ship of this size," Rhen warned, her eyes darting between the map and Kaelen's face.
"I know the rules of engagement, Commander. I also know the rules of optics. We don't need the Indifference. We need deniability. We need surgical precision. And we need to make a statement that House Dierdik will feel in its stock portfolio and its bloodline."
Kaelen tapped the dots representing his remaining light vessels. "The Frigates Starbreaker and Vanguard will be assigned to a new mission. We are going to conduct a massive, highly visible attack on a non-military, but vital, Dierdik asset. Something that can't be covered up by Verrin's paper pushers. Something that generates enough heat to force Jarl to move, or force his family to surrender him."
Rhen was already calculating the logistics. "The Dierdik Fuel Depot on the edge of the Aquila system, Admiral. It supplies nearly forty percent of their deep-space mining fleet. It's civilian-owned, lightly armed with mostly corvettes and patrol gunships, and a really politically sensitive location. Attacking it would cause an IUC-wide energy crisis."
"Precisely. Maximum economic disruption. Prepare a false flag," Kaelen commanded. "The report will state that Starbreaker and Vanguard detected a major VIC incursion disguised as a Dierdik mining fleet and were forced to engage to prevent a full-scale border breach. We will claim the depot was collateral damage. Blame the VIC. The Council will hate it, but they won't be able to disprove it without revealing our true operation."
"And the crews, sir?" Rhen asked, her voice quiet. "They will be performing an act of war against a sovereign IUC-chartered entity. That is treason in all but name."
Kaelen met her gaze, his expression softening momentarily, the paternal flicker returning before being extinguished by the cold light of command. "The crews of Starbreaker and Vanguard are loyal to me, Commander. They know what this war is about, even if they don't know the full details of Jarl Dierdik's crime. Their orders will be coded as 'Extreme Preemptive Defense, Authority Level Alpha-One.' If they are captured, the IUC will disavow them immediately. But I know my men, they won't be captured. They will hit the depot and jump immediately to the Rendezvous Point Epsilon, deep in the Serpent's Coil and just two jumps away from B-147. They will remain there until I personally come for them. No one else is to know that location. Do you understand the instructions I have given you, Commander? The loyalty of those men is my responsibility, and I will not abandon them."
Rhen nodded, swallowing hard. "Understood, Admiral. Rendezvous Point Epsilon. Serpent's Coil. I will personally transmit the operational orders to the Captains. And for Jarl Dierdik in the Seraphim Nebula?"
Kaelen smiled coldly. "Jarl Dierdik is a special case. He doesn't deserve the official attention of the IUC Navy. He deserves a taste of his own medicine. He deserves to know what it feels like to be hunted by ghosts."
He pointed to his remaining light fleet, specifically the surviving Corvettes, the fastest, most disposable ships in his arsenal. "We will send three Corvettes, Swift Justice, Retribution, and Vengeance, into the Nebula. Remove their paint schemes and any IUC markings. There will be no official record, and they will be crewed by volunteers, by some of my best pilots, the ones who personally knew Mark. They are going to play pirates and will shadow Jarl's shuttle, disrupt his communication, and make his exile hell. They won't engage or destroy anything. They will simply let him know, every single day, that the Admiral of the IUC fleet, the man he betrayed, is still on his tail. And they will keep transmitting his location back to us on B-147. We will starve him out, Commander. We will make his life so miserable that he will beg to come back to IUC space, just for the chance of a fair trial."
Rhen paused, absorbing the ruthlessness of the plan. "What about the losses, Admiral. The Frigates and Corvettes we have already lost are going to be nothing if this is a war we are losing in attrition, and this plan requires even more resources than we have available."
Kaelen walked back to the viewport, staring out at the comforting, massive bulk of the Indifference.
"I know what we have lost, Commander. I feel the weight of those lives every time I close my eyes. All of the men and women who were needlessly sacrificed to the political and economic infighting of the IUC. The cost is astronomical. And that cost will be paid by House Dierdik. Not by the IUC taxpayer. Not by my men."
He turned back to Rhen, his eyes blazing with an unstable mix of grief and resolve.
"This is no longer a professional war, Commander. This is a personal vendetta, and I am the only one who can end it. Jarl Dierdik gave me a purpose when Mark was killed. He gave me a name to chase, a face to hate, a betrayal to avenge. I will not stop until I've collected the debt. Get the orders ready, Commander. We have a depot to destroy, a fugitive to terrorize, and a House to ruin."
As Rhen moved to execute the orders, Kaelen stood alone, once again staring at the cold beauty of the void. He was an Admiral, a steel spine of the IUC fleet, a man whose name still carried weight enough to silence a council chamber. But right now, he was just a man who had lost his son and was burning his entire world down just to light the way to the man responsible.
The operational jump window for Starbreaker and Vanguard was set for 0400 hours, two days after the confrontation with Verrin and Lysander. The intervening forty-eight hours were a blur of meticulous, almost obsessive planning. Kaelen demanded every detail be accounted for, from the quantum entanglement encryption on the false flag manifest to the exact trajectory needed to make the explosion of the Dierdik Fuel Depot look like a VIC strike. He had to be perfect because perfection was the only thing standing between him and a court-martial, or worse.
He hadn't slept. The nightmares, now compounded by the cold, calculated terror of his own war crimes, refused to allow him rest. Instead, he worked, fueled by pure black coffee and the occasional sip of whiskey, enough to keep the tremors at bay but not enough to blur the edges of his concentration.
"I guess it's about time I cashed in on that favor he owes me," Kaelen said to himself as he started a call across the stars to B-147.
The communication terminal glowed with the highest level of encryption Kaelen could muster, tunneling through multiple secure IUC relays before locking onto the heavily shielded administrative hub of Base B-147, one of the IUC's most crucial deep-space military and logistics hubs.
It took three agonizing minutes before the connection was acknowledged. The screen didn't open to a face, but to the stark, official seal of the IUC Fleet Administration, confirming the link was secure.
"Identify yourself," a gruff, synthesized voice demanded.
Kaelen ignored the protocol. He leaned close to the comm unit, his own voice dropping low, shedding the Admiral's command tone for something more familiar and accusatory.
"Kaesius Strathmore."
A short, sharp static burst crackled over the line, followed by a sudden silence. Then, the administrative seal vanished, replaced by the weary, rugged face of Fleet Admiral Kaesius Valerius. He looked older than Kaelen remembered, the dark blue uniform jacket emphasizing the deep lines etched around his eyes.
"Kaelen," Valerius finally said, his voice devoid of surprise, but thick with an emotion Kaelen couldn't immediately place, resignation, perhaps. He ran a hand over his close-cropped gray hair. "You know I haven't used that name in twenty years. Address me as Fleet Admiral Valerius, or I'll sever this connection and log it as a security breach."
"I'm sure you will, brother," Kaelen countered, the familiar familial sting in the word. "But if you did, you'd have to explain to the High Council why the most powerful Fleet Admiral in the Outer Systems is taking orders from a simple, deep-space administrator. And you know how much the Council and the Houses love a good scandal to get one over on the Navy."
Fleet Admiral Valerius sighed. He looked past Kaelen, his eyes scanning the background of Kaelen's quarters, assessing the state of the man he hadn't spoken to outside of mandatory fleet reviews in two decades.
"Cut the theatrics, Kaelen. Your voice is only coming through this heavily armored line because I manually bypassed three security layers, risking my career to hear your inevitable demands," Valerius said. "What do you want, brother? And don't insult my intelligence by claiming it's an IUC matter."
Kaelen didn't bother to kick around the subject.
"I need a blind spot," Kaelen stated plainly. "I need B-147's entire sensor net to develop a sudden, prolonged, and geographically specific malfunction. I need a sector of space two jumps from your base, near the Serpent's Coil, to become a dead zone. I need to move three specific light vessels and myself into your sphere of influence without generating a single logged sensor reading that the Council or any Dierdik contact could ever access."
Valerius stared, his jaw tightening as he processed the magnitude of the request. "You're asking me to commit treason. You're asking me to open a hole in the IUC defense grid the size of an entire system just so you can play pirate. And you're asking me to cover for you while you run an experimental high-risk deep-space jump with a capital ship. The Indifference is too big to hide, Kaelen."
"I'm not bringing the Indifference into your territory," Kaelen replied. "Not yet, at least. I just need the dead zone for the light vessels, and for my own logistics. The Indifference will stay well outside the range of even your long-range scanners, conducting the 'deep-scan analysis.' I just need a place to regroup and resupply the crews I'm burning through in this ridiculous, necessary war."
"Necessary?" Valerius leaned closer to the screen, his voice turning icy. "This is about the kid, isn't it?"
Kaelen stayed quiet for a bit before finally relenting.
"Yes, damn it. It's about Mark. It's always been about Mark," Kaelen said. "Jarl Dierdik orchestrated his death. He set him up to be ambushed in a contested system. He killed my son for profit, Kaesius. And I promised the boy vengeance. I will not break that oath just because the Council has decided that corporate blood money is more important than IUC justice."
It took a little while for Valerius to break the silence.
"I heard the details of the attack," he said. "I believe you. But this… this operation is suicide, Kaelen. You are destroying your career, and now you want to drag me down with you. You owe me an explanation that goes beyond vengeance. You owe me the truth about what you are doing with those light vessels. After all, if I'm going to commit treason, then at least I have to know about what will be done."
Kaelen felt a wave of crushing exhaustion. He was asking for everything, and he had nothing left to give but a plea.
"I'm hunting a Jarl Dierdik. My light vessels are running deniable, deep-cover ops in the Unclaimed Territories. They need a safe harbor to jump back to, and B-147 is the closest high-security base in the entire sector. I need the hole in your grid, Kaesius. Please."
Valerius let out a long breath, staring into the middle distance. He was wrestling with a decision that meant the end of his illustrious, legitimate career.
"Goddammit, Kaelen, I owe you. You know I do, and you're taking advantage of it... Fine. The dead zone will be there. The systems are complex, but I can justify a week of 'unexpected cosmic activity' in the Serpent's Coil. You get one week of silence, Kaelen. One. After that, I have to report anomalies to the Council, or I risk a full internal investigation."
A wave of relief so intense it bordered on dizziness washed over Kaelen. He had the safety net and a sanctuary for his loyal crews.
"Thank you, Kaesius," he said. "That's all I needed. I owe you everything. I'll make sure to get-"
"Wait," Valerius interrupted, holding up a hand. His expression had shifted, the anger and resignation replaced by something like profound confusion, almost disbelief. "There is one other thing. Something peculiar happened here a few months back."
Kaelen frowned, instantly alert. "Peculiar how?"
"Admiral Ren Varis, you remember him?" Valerius asked. "He's the meticulous one. Anyway, he wanted to employ this guy as a deniable asset of the Navy. And the guy's name was Mark Shephard."
Kaelen felt the blood drain from his face, and he gripped the desk edge for support. "That's… that's impossible, Kaesius. Mark is dead. The entire scout fleet was wiped out."
"I know the reports, Kaelen. But just listen to the details," Valerius insisted, his eyes wide and serious. "This 'Mark Shephard' claimed to be an independent agent. His identity was clearly forged, but the peculiar part wasn't the name or the fake ID. It was the ship."
Valerius swallowed, glancing around his own quarters as if afraid the walls were listening. "I saw it with my own eyes, angular, brutalist, like the first ships of humanity. Like… like your own Indifference, but smaller, faster, and more advanced than anything the IUC or the VIC has fielded, or so according to the reports of the female officers he rescued and ferried. And the man, this 'Shephard,' he moved like a naval officer. Knew the jargon. Knew the maneuvers. And he clearly knew his way around the very bureaucratic circles that Admiral Varis was trying to run around him to get him to sign on as a deniable asset."
Kaelen felt the whiskey, the grief, the exhaustion, and the sudden, impossible hope collide in his chest, leaving him breathless. Mark. Alive? Piloting a ship that shouldn't exist?
"You ran the DNA, didn't you?" Kaelen whispered, his voice cracking. "You had to have run the DNA sample from anything he touched."
Valerius shook his head, looking miserable. "He touched anything with his actual fingers, was always wearing a suit of armor that looked predatory. There is also the fact that he didn't look like the man in the images of the reports. Not the same face, not the same hair, not the same body. Much taller than the 5'11 boy you knew."
Valerius paused, letting the silence stretch into an agonizing eternity.
"Now I'm not sure, and honestly, I highly doubt someone can change that much in just two years, especially since the Vickie's reports indicated that most of the destroyed ships fell into the atmosphere of the red planet they fought over. If there is the slightest chance of that being the kid, then he's alive and running around in a mini-me version of the prototype Indifference."
Kaelen's breath hitched. Ninety-two percent. A deliberate name change. A ship built in the image of the vessel he commanded, a shape Mark would have seen every day of his childhood. It wasn't just a coincidence. It was a message.
You're not gone, just waiting for me in hell. Kaelen had muttered that to his reflection almost two years ago. Now, the hell he had constructed for himself had a window of hope, a tiny, terrifying glimpse of the impossible.
"He's alive," Kaelen whispered, the words tasting like rain on dry ground. The realization of this possibility didn't bring immediate joy. Instead, it brought instant, terrifying clarity about the scope of his failure. All those lives lost, ships gone, time wasted for a vengeance he didn't need to take.
"I doubt it's him. If anything, it's just some spec-ops operative who was finally allowed to retire. Whoever they are, they made their way to Nova Celeste, adopted a kid, and are renting a repair shop on Station Mechanicus," Valerius finished.
Valerius looked at his brother, the mad Admiral who had just committed his last reserves to a hopeless vendetta.
"So that's just a possibility, brother. If it is true, and it turns out that this guy is the kid and he's been alive all along, then that means that you've sacrificed six ships and your entire career to avenge a ghost," Valerius said. "Tell me, Kaelen, what are you going to do now? Continue burning the IUC down to get at a fugitive who killed a man who is still alive? Or finally stop this madness?"
Kaelen leaned back, slowly, the cold fury in his eyes replacing the exhaustion. It was a fury not directed at Jarl Dierdik now, but at himself, at the Council, at the entire universe that had set him down this path of destruction when his adoptive son could still be out there. But Jarl was still the proximate cause. He was the one who intended the death.
"The plan doesn't change, Kaesius. Jarl Dierdik still committed treason against the IUC for monetary gain. He still needs to pay. And if Mark is alive… then may the universe reunite us. I know he will end up fighting the same war against the IUC's rot that I am, just with a different approach. I need to finish this debt, Kaesius. Then, maybe, I can find him." Kaelen took a deep, steadying breath. "You've given me the dead zone, Kaesius. Now I need to use it to secure my men, and then, and only then, I will start the real search. Now, are you with me, brother? Or are you going to report me to the Council and watch me hang?"
Valerius closed his eyes briefly, running a hand over his face. When he opened them, the resignation was complete.
"The jump signature for your light vessels will be erased. The Serpent's Coil sector will be cosmically unstable for seven days. And I will not report this conversation, Kaelen. Consider the debt paid. Now go. And for the love of the stars, don't get us both killed."
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