Karl Schroeder - Ashes of Candesce - Book Five of Virga

Leal couldn't speak; and soon, the triumphant chatter in the bridge dwindled, and in somber silence they watched as the attackers turned in desperation, unleashing an inferno of missiles into the contrail of smoke and destruction behind them. The sky lit with the scintillation of thousands of explosions, and the Last Line blockade dissolved.

Too late. Whatever happened next was made invisible by light as the great tungsten flowers of Candesce unfurled and opened their eyelike lamps.

* * *

"THOSE IDIOTS! " INSHIRIFerance threw something heavy and half the bridge crew ducked. "How could they be so stupid , the animals !" Ferance was screaming, her face red, and Antaea had to fight to hide her disgust. If not for the steadying influence of Jacoby Sarto, she might have fled the Thistle already. It would be so easy, after all: just take a bike, fly to some distant corner of the world and leave the fate of Virga in others' hands.

As Jacoby moved to calm Ferance down, Antaea took a deep, ragged breath. This all had to be seen through, even if she had no more stomach for it. She turned and left the little bridge.

The side hatches of the sloop were open and staffers whose uniforms rippled in the headwind leaned out to exchange dispatches with men on bikes. Semaphore men crouched outside on the hull, moving their flag-draped arms in complicated patterns as clerks with writing pads watched. Bikes approaching and peeling off again made a constant howling chorus.

She hand-walked past the organized chaos to the ship's next bulkhead, and pushed through the hatch there into a quieter space. Ferance's more elite passengers slept or talked in small groups here: members of her cabal, outsiders with perfect features and sculpted bodies; and top officials of the Home Guard in whose presence she would once have felt reverent awe. She still trusted them, though the awe had dwindled. If anyone within the walls of Virga knew the truth of what lay outside, it should be these men and women.

Moving quietly past them, she opened the next hatch. The ship's hold was full of weapons, medical supplies, and crates of rations. It was hot back here, and sweat gleamed on the face of the prisoner who perched astride one of the portholes. Venera Fanning looked up at Antaea and grinned ferally.

"Sun's nice this morning, isn't it?" she said.

"I can't believe even you would make light of so many deaths," said Antaea.

Venera snorted. "It wasn't my plan to kill them. Not my plan to be here at all."

"You know why we're here. The current situation is unsustainable. The enemy will keep trying until they finally pierce Candesce's defenses and turn them off, unless we dial down the suppression field to allow us to deploy better countermeasures. That's all this is about."

Venera arched one eyebrow, then raised her bound-together hands to bring something into the light. With a shock Antaea recognized a well-thumbed copy of the book she'd dictated. "I know your plan well," said Venera. "I got a copy when it first came out, you know, though this one belongs to one of the crewmen. I was hoping someday to get your autograph on mine. --You know, something like 'To Venera, whose husband I slept with.'" She twirled the book, letting it go to become a white pinwheel in the air between them. "You describe the plan you and your sister developed with Gonlin. And of course, it's a grand plan. But it's your plan."

"It's the Guard's plan now," Antaea countered. "And what's yours?"

"Leave Candesce alone. You said 'the enemy' would keep trying," Venera went on. "But you are the enemy, and this is your latest try. You're trying exactly what Aubrey Mahallan tried. You're trying to get in . It should be obvious--"

"I didn't come here to argue," said Antaea.

"Then why did you come here?"

She hesitated. It wasn't entirely clear even to her. Or maybe, she was just having trouble admitting it even to herself. "I want you to know I'll protect you," she said. "I won't let Ferance harm you."

Venera sneered. "How touching. You and Jacoby are on the same page, I see. Did you talk about this together? How you'd present a common front, lull me as a team? He made the same promise, and it means as little coming from him as it does from you."

"You don't understand." Antaea moved to within an arm's length of Venera. She looked her in the eye. Deliberately and carefully, she said, "Venera, I will give my life to save yours if I have to. We are on opposite sides of this thing, but we are not enemies. Jacoby and I are your friends, and you will come to no harm from these people as long as I still draw breath."

Venera stared at her for a long moment. Then her lashes dropped to hood her eyes, and she turned away. "Satisfy your conscience however you want," she said. "You're saying this for Chaison's sake, not mine."

Antaea wanted to slap her. Instead, she drew back, reaching behind her for the hatch. "Believe what you want about my reasons," she said. "But the commitment remains."

She left the hold and dogged the door tightly behind her. Then she took a deep breath, and braced herself to go up to the bridge and find out what Inshiri Ferance intended to do next.

* * *

THE LAST LINEhad held, at least for now. Smoking battleships from a dozen proud nations fled before Candesce's morning light, turning to regroup only when they'd passed enough veils of smoke that the savage radiance could be countered by venting water. Trailing new clouds, Ferance's armada sought to align its position with the approaching First Line fleet.

Chaison Fanning stood on the nose of the Surgeon and turned a brass spyglass this way and that, judging the situation. His own armada--the triumph of negotiation and diplomacy that had come from the grand colloquy--was equal to Ferance's Virgan allies. All told, though, it was less than half the size of the First Line fleet, which consisted of the largest, most sophisticated, and powerful craft in the world.

A small circle of officers hung in the air near Chaison like uniformed crows. Though she had no function, Leal was out here, too, blinking against the light. A staffer had brought her a helix glass coiled with hot tea, and she'd nearly burst into tears at the small act of kindness.

"What do you see?" the admiral of an allied navy asked Chaison.

"The Last Line're holding their position," he replied in a distracted voice. "They're safe inside the exclusion zone. Looks like Candesce is incinerating or blowing away all the debris around 'em. This will give them plenty of maneuvering room and an excellent look at the invaders."

"And they?"

"Getting a face-full of smoke and char right now. Having trouble regaining formation. But they have all day, don't they?"

"It's a problem."

"What does he mean by that?" Leal asked the staffer who'd brought her the tea. "That they've got all day?"

"They know we're not a threat," said the man with a shrug. "They can regroup, then hit the Last Line again at dusk. And they can keep that up until they've battered a way through."

Chaison bent to look over the short horizon of the Surgeon 's hull. "We've got no choice, then. We have to hit the First Line before they can regroup with Ferance's armada." Leal heard several sharp intakes of breath from the others.

One of the admirals sputtered, "But we're no match at all for ... that!"

"Well, it's true we can't fight them in the open, so we won't."

The admiral looked around at the available cover. "But sir, with all due respect, you can't mean to use a city as your shield!"

"No," he said. "I mean to use that ." Chaison smiled and pointed with the spyglass.

The other admiral, who was from the principalities himself, said, "Oh..." in a tone of such dismay that Leal was sure whatever Chaison was proposing must involve catastrophic civilian casualties. She looked where they were all gazing now, but once again all she saw was clouds.