Imprint of Honor: Birth of the Rim, #3

By Phil Huddleston

The enemy killed everyone on her ship. Except her. That was their mistake.

 

Forty years after the Battle of Orinoco, Orien Satra - son of Jake and Andrea - is the XO of a heavy cruiser in the Rim Defense Force. His sister Ligeia is the Prime Minister of RimFed; and Ligeia's daughter Miranda is a newly commissioned ensign on the distant scout ship Troublemaker. In a crazy-quilt pattern of war, treachery, and the razor's edge of survival, their destinies are about to smash together. Ambushed by a sinister enemy, the Troublemaker is destroyed. More than 1,100 lights from home, badly injured, alone in a lifeboat – somehow, Miranda survives. Little does the young ensign know her destiny holds the key to the future of the entire Rim - and the lives of billions!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Phil Huddleston
• Release date: Dec 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9781737214243

Phil Huddleston

Phil Huddleston grew up barefoot and outdoors like Huckleberry Finn until he discovered books.  Thereafter, he read everything he could get his hands on, including reading the Encyclopedia Britannica and Funk & Wagnalls from A to Z multiple times.  He served in the U.S. Marines for four years, returned to college and completed his degree on the GI Bill.  Since that time, he attempted to assist his wife in raising two daughters, built computer systems, worked in cybersecurity, played in a band, flew a bush plane from Alaska to Texas, rode a motorcycle around a good bit of America and would like to do it all again.  Except without the mistakes.

Book preview

Spoiler Alert

This book contains spoilers for the two preceding books in the series, Imprint of Blood and Imprint of War.

If you have not read those books already, I would like to suggest that you start with and read forward from those. Although this book can stand alone, it is certainly more satisfying to know the back story when reading a series.

There is also a stand-alone prequel to this series, Artemis War. Artemis War can be read independently of the other books in the series, either before or after.

Thank you for your support of independent authors!

Chapter One

RDF Kuznetsov - nearing Delphi Station

Toxie stretched. Her lean, lithe body - the hard-as-nails body of a woman descended from the ancient Amazon warriors of Earth - didn’t leave much space at the head of the standard officer’s bunk. Just an inch shy of six feet tall, her hair dark as midnight, her eyes a brilliant, flashing, cinnamon-brown, Toxie turned to her husband and threw one knee across his waist. Resting her head on his shoulder, she caressed his chest, loving on him. A slight movement of air from the overhead vents ranged across them, cooling sweaty bodies after their lovemaking.

What shall we name her? she asked.

Orien shrugged in puzzlement. How should I know? Have you talked to your Mum about it? I think you should ask her first. Otherwise, she’s gonna be really upset.

Well…I guess. I’ll send her a comm after we dock.

And let my Sis know, too. She’ll be thrilled. But don’t let her talk you into anything. Your Mum would be eternally pissed if you let my Sis pick the name.

Oh, don’t worry. I know that. My Mum already doesn’t like your Sis. Let’s not pour fuel on that fire!

I’ve always liked my mother’s name, though. Andrea.

Toxie smiled, rubbing his hair, nipping at his ear.

I’ll take that under consideration.

Or Toxis Alexia the Second. I like that one.

Toxis Alexia the First grinned, nuzzling Orien’s neck.

I’ll add that to the list.

And how shall we raise her, O Wife of Mine?

Toxie answered with derision in her voice, pulling back from his neck and giving him a fake slap as she did so.

The same way we were raised, you idiot! At Aeolis! With Hecate! And she’ll go to the Academy! And be a great and famous Naval officer! Much more famous than either of us will ever be!

Chuckling, Orien reached for his nightstand and retrieved a large glass half-full of clear liquid, downing the remainder in one slug.

Glancing at the clock display on the wall, Toxie frowned.

You don’t need to be drinking right now, Orrie. You have the duty in … let’s see, about an hour. And you should eat something before then. Get moving, sailor!

She slowly unwrapped herself from his body and pushed him lightly in the side, as if to push him off the bed and onto the floor.

And Orrie…you’re going to be a father now. Think about that. The drinking…if you want advancement to Captain, you have to get that under control. And with the baby coming…it’s time, love.

Nodding in deference to his wife, Orien spoke.

I know. I’ll do it.

I’m serious, love. You have to get it under control - people are starting to talk!

I know. I’ll do it.

OK. I won’t nag you about it anymore. But get it done, Commander!

Orien shrugged. Consider it done, Commander!

OK. Then get your ass in gear! We’ll be docking in two hours!

Orien groaned, but grudgingly started moving, sliding out of bed, placing his feet on the floor. Sitting there for a second, his head down, he was clearly thinking.

What are you thinking about, love? asked Toxie, with a lilt in her voice, as she lay in the bunk, her skin still glistening with sweat. How to get out of your watch and stay in bed with me?

Exactly, mumbled Orien.

Well, you can’t, Toxie murmured. So get up and go do your duty!

Letting out another loud groan, Orien rose to his feet and stood beside the bed, stretching. Toxie stared at her husband in amazement. Even after all these years of marriage, she never got tired of looking at him. At six feet two inches, one hundred ninety pounds, muscular but still slim, she loved every inch of him.

Like most Aeolians, her skin was golden-brown, a hue like a well-suntanned Cauc. Orien was slightly lighter-skinned, an anomaly for an Aeolian - genes inherited from his Earther father. His hair had gone ever-so-slightly salt-and-pepper now; but in her opinion, it only added to his presence, his command authority.

Toxie loved him. More than she could put into words. And she knew he loved her the same way. They always said they were a matched pair.

But a pair of what? That was the question they always laughed about.

Letting out another groan of displeasure at leaving her, Orien stalked away. Soon enough, Toxie heard the sound of the shower, and knew her husband was finally getting himself pulled together for his watch.

Her own duty shift had ended a few hours earlier. Rolling over, she dropped off to sleep.

***

Two hours later, on the bridge of the Kuznetsov, Orien sat quietly in his XO chair, watching young Lieutenant Grimm at the OOD position. Grimm was one of his favorites. Not that Orien played favorites; but it was inevitable that some officers were more capable than others. And those were the ones Orien preferred.

Normally, one would not let a recently promoted lieutenant navigate into a busy port; but Orien thought Grimm was ready. He had asked Captain Sykes, and Sykes had approved it - perhaps not enthusiastically, but approved it. Sykes knew as well as Orien did - developing young officers was part of their command responsibility on the Kuznetsov.

Nobody on the crew ever called her the Kuznetsov. From the captain down to the lowest rating, everyone called her the Kuzzie. It was a term of endearment, the crew’s nickname for their ship, their refuge, their home away from home. She was long, wide in the rear, narrow in the front - a wedge. She was black, so black you could not see her in space with normal eyes, not unless you were right up on her, close enough to see her blank out the stars as she cruised by. And that was by design, because she was a hunter, and a killer - a heavy cruiser. And if she were close enough for you to see her blank out the stars, you’d better pray she was on your side.

Few of her current crew knew that the Kuzzie was copied after another black, wedge-shaped ship - a strange ship that had landed on Earth one hundred and thirty-four years earlier. That earlier ship had been called Pandora; and she had brought the stars to Earth, given them to Jake Hammett and Teresa Tolleson and Kirsten Monk, a box of pain and glory to open for all of Humanity.

But aside from her captain, and her XO, and maybe a few other senior people in her crew, that was a detail forgotten, or dismissed. This crew of Humans and Aeolians and Daneki was generations removed from that event. It was history, something studied in school, not relevant to their daily lives. Humans had grasped the gift of Pandora’s technology, embraced it, gone to the stars, expanded beyond all reason. Nobody thought much anymore about how it had all started.

Now, as the Kuzzie moved closer to the planet Delphi and orbital dock Schiaparelli, Orien could hear Lieutenant Grimm speaking quietly to Engineering, ensuring everything was ready for their approach.

Some said Delphi was the third-busiest port in the Rim now. It certainly looked like it today. In the large orange-tinted holotank at the front of the bridge, ships were everywhere - departing, arriving, entering orbit, leaving orbit, offloading cargo to shuttles - it was a madhouse.

Lieutenant Grimm, we ready? Orien asked.

Yes, sir, Grimm responded. All systems in the green. We’re on the line. ETA eight minutes.

Orien smiled. Grimm had done a good job so far. All was in order; the Kuzzie was on a tangential course that would ensure she arrived in the exact spot designated by the Port Authority. In eight minutes, they would dock, and this cruise would be over. And they would go dirtside and disperse to their various destinations for leave.

And while the Kuzzie was undergoing refit, he would not have to come back to the Navy for six long, beautiful weeks. Granted, there wouldn’t be enough time to take Toxie all the way to their home planet of Aeolis and then get back for the next cruise, not in six short weeks. But at least he could place her in good comfort at their second home, their little military bungalow near Delphi Station.

And being at home with Toxie for six weeks was about as good a deal as a man could get. With a baby coming, Toxie would retire from the Navy now. She had enough time in; she would get full retirement. Orien grinned, thinking about the old Earther saying: A future so bright, I have to wear sunshades!

All stop, he heard from Grimm, and the sound of the mains fell away to idle. They were nearly there. Now Grimm would let her drift in until they were only a few hundred yards from dock - then he would brake with the maneuvering jets to a gentle stop. All was good.

And to return with this good news…Orien would need to send a QE squirt to Ligeia, to his Sister-Mother Hecate, to all his relatives on Aeolis.

Mustn't forget that…

***

The alarm was so loud, Orien almost jumped out of his chair.

What the fuck!? he heard from Captain Sykes behind him.

Orien scanned his console. The flashing red letters were clear:

COLLISION ALERT - 6 SECONDS

Orien raised his gaze to the holotank. There he saw it - a large freighter, spinning crazily. One of its engines had gone wild as it was braking for dock. Bright red in the holo, the projected course of the freighter ended after only a few hundred meters.

Directly into the bottom of the Kuzzie.

Orien instinctively looked at Lieutenant Grimm. The young lieutenant was frozen in place, paralyzed, staring at the holo in disbelief. Orien heard and felt the mains start to come up as the ShipMind reacted first, felt the maneuvering thrusters fire as the AI tried to move them out of the way…

COLLISION ALERT - 5 SECONDS

Five seconds to react. And the Kuzzie was large, and heavy, and slow, and her mains were at idle…

Like second sight, like seeing the future, Orien knew what he had to do.

Helm! Roll us right! he yelled.

COLLISION ALERT - 4 SECONDS

Even with the best effort of the ShipMind, it would take at least five seconds for the engines to come up to adequate power to move the ship out of the way. The yammering alarm went on and on…

Roll us right, Helm! To the right! Roll right, dammit!

Three seconds.

The ship began rotating to the right, the Quartermaster finally reacting to Orien’s command. Then it also began to respond to the ShipMind’s efforts, slowly twisting away from the oncoming freighter. But Orien knew it wasn’t going to be enough.

Two seconds.

Orien turned to glance at Captain Sykes. Sykes nodded; approval clear on his face. It was all they could do. There was no other option.

One second.

Chapter Two

Hades System

The little scout ship Troublemaker was well into the system, almost to a large gas giant, fourth from its star. It was the middle of the night, ship time. A skeleton crew - Third Watch - was just coming on duty. On the bridge, the outgoing slapped hands with the incoming, laughing, happy to be relieved so they could go to midrats.

Ensign Miranda Antiope Satra - Maddie, to her friends - had been aboard the Troublemaker for exactly one hundred days. One hundred days since she had walked through the hatch into the little scoutship, a new graduate from the Imperial Naval Academy. One hundred days since she had started learning the ropes as Apprentice Operations Officer. She was still excited to be a newly commissioned officer, to be part of the Navy, to be mapping a new system out in the wild.

And of course, she wanted to go to midrats, too. But she had been assigned to check the readiness of Troublemaker’s shuttlecraft. It was a task normally performed by a rating; but her boss said, If you are to supervise the ratings in their work, you must first understand the work. Go do it!

So Maddie had gone, up to Deck B. The scout ship was too small to carry shuttles inside as bigger ships did; instead, Troublemaker’s were attached on the outside, two ungainly warts stuck to the stern of the ship - or as her crew was fond of saying, two ticks stuck on a dog’s ass.

Maddie had finished checking the port shuttle. She had then walked across the ship via the cross-corridor, opened the hatch to the starboard shuttle, and started on the inventory of consumables and supplies for that one. It was a tedious job that had to be done once every other month, to ensure the shuttles were ready to fly.

Finished with the second shuttle’s inventory, Maddie had stood, AllPad in hand, looking things over, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Her dark hair reflected her mostly Aeolian ancestry; but her blue-green eyes, and the ever-so-subtle hint of freckles here and there on her lighter skin, showed she had a bit of Earther in her background. Not quite as tall as most Aeolians, nevertheless she was a striking figure, the kind of woman that makes a man’s heart skip a beat at first sight - a biological imperative that no amount of military discipline could overcome on any ship. Her many suitors among the crew made that fact eminently clear.

Behind the approaching big-ass gas giant the alien cruiser lay hidden, waiting to start a war. As the Troublemaker came even with the huge planet and into range, the enemy captain grinned. He spat a few words at his crew; with a thump and a lurch, a half-dozen shipkiller missiles launched at the little scout ship. Six missiles were overkill for such a small ship; but this enemy captain believed in making sure.

On Troublemaker’s bridge, alarms blared. The crew stared in shock at a holo display full of death. The Troublemaker’s ShipMind took control automatically, as it was programmed to do; it deployed countermeasures and opened fire with the point defense systems. But it was too little, too late. The covey of alien missiles had no problem overwhelming the scoutship’s defenses.

The ShipMind made one last desperate attempt to avoid the incoming array of death, overboosting the ship to an incredible 325G external - which translated to 25G internal - killing half the crew and leaving the rest of them flat on the deck gasping for air. But it wasn’t a matter of ‘if’ Troublemaker was dead. It was merely a matter of how many parts and pieces would be left behind, to trace a serene and eternal path through the Big Empty.

Near the stern of the ship, Maddie had exited the shuttle. Standing outside, she had turned to close the hatch when the overboost klaxon went off. As she stood, frozen, mouth open, trying to understand what was happening, the first hard, desperate jerk of the ShipMind attempting to avoid the missiles slammed her hard. Smashing her against the open hatch of the shuttle, her head hit the hard lip at the top, her body bent double, and she was injected back into the shuttle, slammed into the far wall, a mindless heap in the face of the g-forces.

Four seconds later, as Maddie lay dazed and bloody on the deck plate of the starboard shuttle, unable to move under 25G of accel, the first alien missile struck the Troublemaker on the port side.

The blast compressed all the air and metal between her and the point of impact, a smash of explosive force that should have crushed her body beyond all hope of salvage. And it would have - except under the load of 25G, the shuttle hatch had already slammed shut.

Still, the impact was tremendous. Maddie never actually remembered it; it was simply too quick, too hard a push. Giving up her last bit of consciousness, she did not know that the shuttle had broken away from the ship, was accelerated into space at a huge rate, tumbling out of control, another piece of junk in the cloud of debris that had once been Troublemaker.

Planet Kamilaroi, City of New Geneva

There was plenty of explosive. The bomb was packed with shrapnel. It was in the right place. It detonated at the right time.

Ligeia should have died.

But she didn’t. Some quirk of the Universe wasn’t ready for her to die that day.

As she walked into the main entrance of the Parliament Building, the bomb went off. It killed everyone around her. Every member of her security detail. Her Security Chief, Graham McCarthy. Her personal secretary, Melanippe Aronte. Even her favorite intern, Aedon Aetos, a sixteen-year-old female student who had arrived from Aeolis only the previous week.

But Ligeia had taken a step at precisely the right second. She had taken a step at precisely the right place. On her way from the entrance of the Parliament Building to the Senate Chamber where her speech was scheduled, that step moved her into the shadow of a marble column in the massive hallway. And in that exact place, the rather ornate marble column, almost a foot in diameter, partially blocked the blast.

One side of the column was a pitted, pock-marked mess, where the blast and shrapnel had done their worst. On the other side of the column was the crumpled body of Prime Minister Ligeia Antiope Satra; lying in a pool of blood, unconscious, her skin pockmarked and pitted by explosive debris.

Outside the Parliament entrance, her chief pilot, Marine Captain Dean Kastello, had been standing beside Ligeia’s personal shuttle, chatting with a Senate aide. Knocked to the ground by the blast, Dean knew instantly what had happened. Jumping up, he ran inside the building, stepping over bodies, searching in the carnage, and found Ligeia behind the column.

Help me! he shouted to the first rescuers appearing on the scene. She’s still alive! Help me get her to the shuttle!

Dean reached under Ligeia and lifted. A scratched and bloody Parliamentary Policeman helped, and the two of them got her out of the building in a rush. The battered policeman piled into the shuttle with them as Dean laid Ligeia on a bench seat.

Strap her in! he called to the cop and ran for the cockpit. He yelled at the co-pilot, still sitting in his seat, dazed by events.

Go, go, go! he shouted. Get us out of here! Go!

Cramming himself into his seat, Dean buckled up as the co-pilot, finally understanding, twisted the throttle on the collective. By the time the engine spooled up for takeoff, Dean was secured.

My controls! Dean shouted, grabbing for the collective and the stick.

Your controls! echoed the co-pilot, lifting his hands and showing them to Dean.

With a bit of a jerk, the shuttle bounded off the pad and clawed for the sky. Clearing the building, Dean brought the shuttle around and headed for the hospital designated in the Daily Orders, four klicks away.

Chapter Three

Hades System

When it came to intelligence, the AI of the Troublemaker’s shuttle was not stupid. After all, it was a subset of the Sentient AI that had been the Troublemaker’s ShipMind. It wasn’t a Sentient - life would have been entirely too boring for a Sentient, stuck on the side of a ship, day after lonely day, waiting for some mission that might never come. No, it was highly refined - but not a Sentient.

But it knew a few things. It knew it had been ripped away from its parent ship. It knew it was damaged in many of its sub-systems. It knew that nobody was paying attention to its alarm. It knew there was a female Human lying unconscious on the deck.

It also knew there was a viable planet 9 AU from its current position; and it knew that distant planet - the second from the star - was the only chance of survival for the damaged crewmember lying on the deck.

And it knew they were screwed - because it had only enough fuel to travel - and land - at a range of 8 AU. That would leave it 150 million kilometers short of its required destination - 93 million miles short of the place where its damaged crewmember could survive.

Oh, it could get to the planet. That was just a matter of accelerating to a velocity that would get them there. That it could do, in ten days.

But then there was the matter of stopping. Based on its calculations, if it accelerated enough to get to the second planet before its Human passenger died from lack of oxygen - then it wouldn’t have enough fuel to land when they arrived. It would zip by the planet, continue off into the Big Empty, a coffin for the young officer crumpled on the floor.

Of course, there was the unknown enemy vessel, now a few hundred klicks behind, poking around in the wreckage of the Troublemaker, picking up a few odds and ends and a few dead Humans. The AI realized it could turn back to rendezvous with that enemy ship, get their attention, hope that the enemy would have mercy on its Human cargo.

But the AI had seen the enemy ship blasting away at a couple of space-suited survivors floating near the wreckage. They didn’t seem to have any interest in live Humans - only dead ones.

I think not, the AI thought. I think I’ll just tumble along here quietly until they depart.

And, three hours later, the enemy did just that. They turned the big cruiser, took a vector toward the edge of the system, and accelerated away at 300G.

When the enemy cruiser was out of any possible detection range, the AI realized it had to make a decision about its unconscious Human survivor.

Stay here. She dies.

Go there. She dies.

Making a choice, the AI turned the shuttle, established a vector toward the distant second planet, and began accelerating.

The rest is up to her. She can figure out how to stop us when we get there. That’s why she gets the big bucks.

Planet Earth, City of Washington, D. C.

You fool! shouted President-for-Life James Bolt IV. You had one job! Kill that bitch! And you screwed the pooch!

Standing in front of the Resolute desk in the Oval Office, Special Adviser Robert Bradbury couldn’t help but notice the magnificence just outside the window.

Have you seen the cherry blossoms this year? he asked. Washington is incredible in the springtime. So beautiful!

You are fucking certifiable, Bob. You know that, right?

Of course, Jim. Known it for a long time. But I wouldn’t be able to do my job otherwise, now, would I?

Bolt cursed under his breath. Any of this gonna splatter back on us?

Of course not. Compartmentalized, separate, secure. We’re good.

Bolt lifted his head. OK, fine. Who you gonna lay it on?

Oh, the Populares, of course. It’ll all trace back to them. And with a little luck, maybe we can use some of the blowback to knock out their chairman, Tobias Danton. It’s an ill wind, and all that…

I’m not sure I want to knock out Danton. They might replace him with someone who could actually get things done.

Bradbury smiled even broader. There is always that risk…

Bolt seemed to shudder, shrugged, sat up straight. Alright. What’s done is done. Water under the bridge. Let’s move on. He glared up at Bradbury.

That bitch Prime Minister is standing in my way. I want to take over RimFed in my lifetime. But as long as she’s in there with her stupid coalition of Aeolians and Optimates - and those frickin Daneki - we’re not gonna make any headway. I want her dead. Now. This year. And no splatter back to us. Are we clear on that?

Clear, sir. We’ll get it done.

Bolt grunted. Do that. I’m tired of waiting. I want us in control of RimFed, and I don’t care what you have to do to make it happen.

Bradbury stepped back and bowed deeply to Bolt, a requirement for all audiences with the President-for-Life. Turning, he departed the Oval Office, walking briskly to his own space in the Executive Office Building next door. Entering, he sat at his desk and put his chin in his hands, thinking.

How do I kill that bitch Satra? She’s on Kamilaroi, light years away. And the entire RimFed government and military to protect her there. The only dissidents there are the Populares. But they’re weak, disorganized…

…wait…

…maybe I don’t have to kill her myself. Maybe…

Hades System

Maddie’s head hurt like the devil. It felt like someone had driven a spike directly into her back. One of her legs was completely numb. The other one was just the opposite, blazing with pain that radiated from her ankle to her hip.

There was a bit of light. In the corner of her eye. Maddie tried to remember. Something. Something had happened…

Something was wrong.

There was an alarm, a persistent chiming that wouldn’t stop. She was supposed to be going off watch. She was supposed to go to midrats, get something to eat. She struggled, trying to put it all together.

Why was she lying on the floor? Why did she hurt this way?

Her eyelids were stuck. She couldn’t open her eyes. She tried to bring up her right hand to clear one away, but her arm wouldn’t move.

Something was wrong. The alarm wouldn’t stop. It was really annoying.

Giving up the effort to move her hand, she relaxed, trying to get her brain to work. It was full of cobwebs, stuttering, not hitting on all cylinders.

She grunted. She heard the grunt, felt the grunt.

Ah! I can grunt! I’m not dead, then.

A distant thought came over the horizon of her mind. Like a dim, distant light coming into view in the night, the thought approached, floated into her consciousness, came to rest in the front of her thoughts.

I’m hurt. I’m broken. Like a smashed toy.

Maddie lay limp, trying to understand. Realization came slowly, a fog creeping in to swirl around her.

There was a klaxon. The overboost klaxon. I heard it. Then…

Maddie tried to move her other arm, her left arm. It hurt, but she felt it move.

At least I’m not paralyzed.

There was a klaxon. Then…a smash. A huge smash…overboost…

Angry now. Maddie was angry now. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. She was supposed to go off duty, have a nice, quiet meal, and spend the rest of her wakeful time studying for her lieutenant’s exam. She wasn’t supposed to be lying on the deck, broken.

She tried again to force her eyes open. This time one of them - her left eyelid - cracked open ever so slightly. She could see a sliver of light, a sliver of deck. A diamond pattern of decking.

With a superhuman effort, Maddie tried again to move her left arm. She felt it move, come up toward her face. Scraping at her eyelid, she felt something peel off, falling away. Her eye opened fully. She looked at the material she had scraped from the eye.

It was blood. Dried blood, so it had been there for a while.

How long have I been like this?

Groaning, she managed to turn her head slightly, take a look. She saw above her a small console, displays powered up, master caution light flashing. The persistent alarm continued chiming, driving her crazy.

Shuttle.

I’m in the shuttle.

What the fuck…?

Stubbornly, her anger pushing her, Maddie determined to roll over on her back. She began; but the pain shooting up her left leg made her scream, made her immediately stop her efforts, settle back down into her prone position.

My leg is broken.

Maddie lay still, trying to think. The pain had cleared her mind.

I’m lying in the shuttle. I have a broken leg. My other leg is numb. It may be broken, too. And with all that blood in my eyes, I must have a head injury.

What the fuck happened to me? How did I get here?

Never mind that. It doesn’t matter.

I can lie here and die.

Or I can refuse to do that.

New Geneva

How do you feel?

From her wheelchair, Ligeia glared at Tom Mondragon, her Chief of Staff. Her nostrils flared in anger as she spat her reply back at him.

How the hell do you think I feel? The fucking Blackshirts killed half my staff! And almost got me!

Mondragon shrugged, as if that were something that happened every day. Horseshoes and hand grenades, he said sarcastically. At least I wasn’t there. There’s that, he said with an obviously fake smile.

Ligeia glared at him harder, her face tinging pink. She turned to her Chief of Intelligence, Victoria Kane, standing beside Tom.

Did we catch them, Vic?

No, mum. They used some disgruntled splinter group as a front, trying to pawn it off on the Populares. We rolled that little splinter group up, but no connection to Bolt’s Blackshirts. None we can prove, anyway.

As the nurse adjusted her in the wheelchair, Ligeia shook her head at both of her staff.

"You know it was them. James Bolt’s private army.