Or what’s left of him, anyway. He was just one of hundreds of Octavia III colonists consumed and assimilated by the Ra’haam. They’ve been working in the shadows for two centuries, infiltrating the GIA and Maker only knows what other arms of the Terran government. Erasing all evidence of the Octavia colony’s existence. Hiding the existence of the twenty-two worlds the Ra’haam had seeded, and laying the groundwork for its return.
The shock of seeing Princeps hits me like another kick—last we knew, we’d left him behind on Octavia. And suddenly I’m back there, on that doomed and ruined world. Blue spores tumbling from the sky. The colony run through with leafy tendrils of the thing slumbering beneath its mantle. Cat’s eyes, bright blue and flower-shaped, filling with tears as she looked at me for the last time.
You have to let me go.
The world is blurring again. I paw the burn from my eyes.
Maker, I miss her… .
“What do you want, Terran?” Saedii replies, staring at the figure onscreen.
“TEMPLAR, IT IS OUR UNDERSTANDING YOU HAVE APPREHENDED SEVERAL TERRAN CITIZENS ENGAGED IN ESPIONAGE ABOARD A HEPHAESTUS SALVAGE CONVOY. THE SURVIVING HEPHAESTUS EMPLOYEES CONFIRM YOUR VESSEL’S PRESENCE IN THE BATTLE.”
For a moment, I’m surprised the Unbroken left anyone alive in that convoy to give testimony. But thinking about it, I suppose it makes sense they leave witnesses to help spread the fear. It’s not like the Starslayer’s followers are afraid of reprisals. Nobody in the galaxy is brave enough to mess with them.
Except …
“Who I may or may not have acquired is none of your concern,” Saedii replies.
“THESE CRIMINALS ARE WANTED BY THE TERRAN GOVERNMENT FOR INTERGALACTIC TERRORISM,” Princeps says. “THE BETRASKAN FINIAN DE SEEL AND THE SYLDRATHI KALIIS IDRABAN GILWRAETH ARE NO CONCERN OF OURS. BUT WE WOULD APPRECIATE IT IF OUR CITIZENS WERE RETURNED TO US.”
… They want Auri.
The Ra’haam. The gestalt entity, incubating on those twenty-two worlds on Auri’s star map. If they have her, they have the Trigger to the Eshvaren Weapon. They have the only person who can stop the planets from blooming and spreading the Ra’haam’s spores throughout the galaxy. And I’m trying to muster the breath to object, to warn Saedii she can’t possibly hand us over, to give her a hint of what’s at stake here.
But of course, I needn’t have bothered.
“I am a Templar of the Unbroken,” she announces, imperious. “Warbreed by birth and troth. Whatever prisoners I may or may not have aboard my vessel is my concern. And you are dangerously close to meddling in Syldrathi affairs. I advise your fleet to withdraw.”
She leans forward on her desk and glowers.
“Before you earn the Starslayer’s ire.”
And there it is. The ultimate Get Out of Jail Free card. Nobody messes with Archon Caersan. Nobody wants a guy who can destroy solar systems mad at them. It’s just sensible policy, really.
But apparently the Ra’haam doesn’t much care for Sensible.
Princeps glances at someone off-screen. “ALERT THE FLEET. ALL VESSELS, WEAPONS LOCK ON SYLDRATHI VESSEL ANDARAEL. FIGHTER WINGS, READY LAUNCH.”
It takes a moment for Princeps to get a response. I’m guessing that even in the heat of this moment, whoever received that order understands exactly how monumental it is. Terra doesn’t involve itself in Syldrathi business. It certainly doesn’t open fire on an Unbroken flagship carrying one of Caersan’s trusted adjutants. If this goes south, if those ships engage …
… it could mean war.
But finally, we hear a reply offscreen. “Sir, yessir.”
A tiny alert chimes a moment later, ringing across the Andarael’s PA. Saedii’s lieutenant pipes in over comms. He speaks in Syldrathi, but I understand the language well enough to get the gist.
The Terrans have achieved weapons lock.
Fighter bay doors open.
And for the first time, I see a tiny crack appear in my hostess’s armor. She hides it quickly, but it’s there. A tiny sliver of it behind her eyes.
Uncertainty.
Still, she scoffs, looking Princeps in its blank mirrormask, that traditional Syldrathi arrogance slipping into place like a mask of her own.
“You are bluffing, Terran.”
“AM I? ” Princeps replies.
The transmission drops into black. Another warning comes in from Saedii’s second-in-command, and she replies, ordering their weapons hot, their fighters to prep launch. We’re about thirty seconds from a full-scale engagement here. The first time Syldrathi and Terran warships have opened fire on each other since the Jericho Accord of ’78—the pact that officially ended the war between our worlds two years ago.