Chapter Five
Furnace of Charity
When news of the unprovoked attack on Jutlam City reached the landing fields at Kalahar and Nemen, fifteen ships of the Edenite Fleet took off. Ten left Kalahar almost straight away, the other five leaving Nemen a short time later. Twelve more ships at Nemen and another eight at Kalahar began takeoff preparations. There were more ships in the service areas, and work to make them ready for flight was redoubled.
In orbit around Eden were several ships on servicing duties. These ships now abandoned the satellites and space station they were working on and headed back to the surface. And a short distance from Eden, several more Edenite ships were recalled from patrol and surveying duties.
Of all the surveying ships, the ES Saladaz was the most distant. She had been in orbit around Gannia, the nearest planet to Eden, where her crew had been engaged in taking seismograph readings and mineral samples. When the news from Eden reached them, the previous importance of their scientific work quickly evaporated, and men and women hurried to pack up and leave as soon as possible. The whole ship was filled with turmoil as anger at what had happened began to mix with anxiety for the loved ones that they had left behind. Suddenly, the only important thing in their lives was to get home.
As men and women rushed about the bridge of the ES Saladaz, Captain Hemunus shouted his commands to his crew, recalling teams from the surface and urging speed at all costs.
“I want everyone back on board now! We’re leaving!” he shouted.
“What about the equipment on the surface?” Niki Falker, the First Officer, called back as he ran across the bridge to another one of the control consoles. “And there’s the habitation units. It’ll take us the best part of an hour to get it all back on board!”
Hemunus was adamant. “We’re breaking orbit in fifteen minutes!”
“Fifteen minutes?” Falker exclaimed. “We’ll never do it!”
Hemunus smacked the back of his command chair. “Then leave it! Leave it all!”
When the ES Saladaz left orbit fifteen minutes later, it did so leaving a large amount of expensive surveying and habitation equipment behind on Gannia. No one on board really cared.
They travelled at maximum speed, and now that the panic and haste of leaving Gannia was finally behind them, there was nothing else to do but wait. With nothing to occupy their minds, everyone on board began to think about home and what they might find there. No one spoke, and an eerie silence quickly overcame the ship.
Similar thoughts filled the mind of Captain Hemunus as he sat in his command chair on the bridge. He couldn’t stop thinking about his wife and daughter. They were both in Jutlam City. His wife would probably have been at home when it happened, or out shopping, and his daughter would have been at the College of Learning. He prayed that they were both safe, that they hadn’t gone to the square to watch. It was just the sort of thing his wife might do. She would have gone to see the spectacle, taken pictures, and then bored him to death about it on his return. Kelandra would have been kept in College, of that he was pretty sure. But Lyona, oh sweet Lyona, she wouldn’t have been able to resist. The more he thought about it, the more it hurt his mind.
Falker eventually broke the silence on the bridge, his soft words like a bombshell.
“Captain. We’ve got company.”
Captain Hemunus looked across at him in surprise. “Another ship?”
Falker nodded as he looked down at his astrogator screen. “More than one. Coming up fast behind us.”
“Put them on screen.”
Falker nodded again, and the viewing screen at the front of the bridge was suddenly filled with a vast number of ships in tight formation. There were at least five columns of them, trailing off into the distance. It was clear from their movement on the screen that they were gaining on them. Some of the bridge crew gasped when they saw them.
Hemunus looked at the mass of ships. “That’s an entire fleet! And by the look of that tri-marine structure they must be Klysanthian. Open a channel to them. Quickly!” “They’ve beaten us to it,” Falker replied.
Almost at the instant he finished speaking, the image on the viewing screen changed. The mass of ships vanished and were replaced by the head and shoulders of a woman wearing a simple black uniform. The uniform had a high collar and would have been considered austere if it hadn’t been for the decorative panel at the front. The panel covered her chest and reached down beyond her narrow waist, the fabric ruffled and gathered, giving it a delicate appearance. It was in stark contrast to the rest of her uniform that was so thin and so tight it almost looked painted on, and showed every contour of her body. She was sat on the bridge of another ship, and behind her other women in the same black uniform moved from one control console to another. The lower part of the uniform was revealed to be trousers that clung as tightly to the women’s legs and hips as the jacket clung to their chests. All of the women were elfin featured, their figures lithe and their limbs delicately long and slim. It was almost as if the image on the screen was incorrect, as if it had been squeezed sideways and pulled upward. The woman who faced them was also too slight of form, too tall and too delicate to be real. She had long blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders, a tiny mouth, high cheekbones and bright green eyes that seemed to fill her face. She was exquisitely beautiful, but her expression and manner was cold. And when she spoke, the delicate sound of her voice clashed with the bluntness of her words.
“I am Bremusa, Captain of the Light of the World, Flagship of the Klysanthian Second Fleet. Identify yourselves.”
Hemunus stood up. “I am Captain Hemunus of the Edenite Ship Saladaz. We are returning home to help repel an attack by the Keruh Host. I have no idea what should bring you and your fleet to our star system at this time, but your assistance will be invaluable.”
Bremusa ignored both the implied question and the request. Her voice continued to sound delicate and gentle, but again the words were harsh. “Are you not in league with the Keruh? Did you not sign a treaty with them this very day?”
“They attacked us without warning!” Hemunus replied forcefully. “They’ve killed our Ruling Council! Massacred our people! Burned our city! We may have agreed to their treaty under duress, but now we are enemies!”
Bremusa smiled, but it was lifeless and without warmth. “Yes. They are now your enemy as they have always been ours. But your alliance with them, no matter how brief, is a signal of your true intent. You turned your back on those who fought for freedom and independent life, on those whose sacrifice for this noble cause is far too great. You sought to live safely in the bosom of the serpent while all around you others fell to the venom of its fangs. Now this choice brings on your own fate.”
Hemunus stepped forward, knowing what was coming next. “Wait! You must listen!”
It was no use. The image of Bremusa vanished and only the on-rushing ships now filled the screen.
Hemunus turned to Falker. “Get her back!” he demanded.
“I’m trying!” Falker replied as he worked frantically at his controls.
At another control console, a woman turned, tears in her eyes. “Captain! They’re arming weapons!”
Hemunus shouted his last commands in a final and last desperate effort to avoid the inevitable.
“Helm! Hard to port!”
The ES Saladaz turned and tried to move aside from the onrushing fleet, but she only succeeded in exposing her side to the Klysanthian gunners. A fusillade of maser blasts tore into her hull, splitting it open and blowing it apart. The metal fragments spun away, the white gas that bathed them lit briefly in orange.
Bremusa turned away from the viewing screen, the death of Captain Hemunus and his crew already fading from her mind. She headed toward the doorway, giving commands in quick succession as she walked among her officers, her voice tinkling delicately.
“Derinoe, advise the fleet: Increase speed and prepare to break up into attack formation. Pass this command to
Telepyleia on the Shrine of the Spirit. The Ninth Fleet will form the lower wing as planned. Ainia, contact Dione on the Bread of Angels: She is to proceed with the bombardment of Eden. We must act before the Defence Net is closed. Iphito, open the portal to the Furnace of Charity. I will speak with Anaxilea immediately.”
Bremusa left the bridge without another word. And by the time she reached the portal, another tall woman in a black uniform stood waiting for her. The woman was a typical Klysanthian, her features were delicate and her figure waif-like, the tight black uniform revealing every subtle curve of her sinuous body. She matched Bremusa for beauty at every point, but they were far from mirror images. The woman on the portal had the same delicate features: high cheekbones, small mouth and large almond shaped eyes. But the differences made her appearance even more striking. Her eyes were a rich brown, she had very long, thick and wavy brown hair, and her skin held a darker hue, as if bronzed by a distant sun. It gave her a feeling of warmth that seemed to magnify her beauty.
Bremusa wasted no time on introductions. “Why did you not fire on the Edenite ship?”
Anaxilea remained impassive. “It seemed unnecessary to add the power of our weapons to those of so many.”
Her voice was slightly husky, as if the delicate vocal sounds of her race had been cracked and roughened. Bremusa didn’t accept her feeble excuse.
“And your decision was based on nothing more than the conservation of power?”
Anaxilea’s expression showed a hint of irritation. “Why this interrogation?”
“Because it is not the first time that the Furnace of Charity has failed to fire on Edenite ships! Why do your guns stay silent?”
There was a brief pause as both women stared at one another. Finally, Anaxilea answered, her voice subdued and her features filled with sadness.
“The Edenites are not our enemy.”
In contrast, Bremusa grew angry, her delicate features almost unable to complete the expression. “They signed a treaty with the Keruh! That makes them our enemy! They must die as the Keruh must die!”
Anaxilea stepped forward on the portal and spoke in haste. “Must all the races in the galaxy pay for what we have lost?”
Bremusa’s manner became distinctly cold. “If you will not follow my commands I will find another who will.”
There was another short eye battle, and then Anaxilea lowered her head. “I will obey your commands.”
“Then go with the Bread of Angels, fly beneath the Defence Net. Bombard the Edenite cities, shoot down their ships, and make them feel our wrath.”
Anaxilea looked shocked, her eyes growing wide. “But Dione and the others who go with her have volunteered for this task!”
“So, now, have you,” Bremusa replied pointedly. “Do not fail me in this, Anaxilea, for I will not pardon you again.”
Bremusa turned away and the portal was closed.
Anaxilea was left standing before the now closed portal on the Furnace of Charity. She turned slowly. Behind her in the portal room were Melousa and Cassiopea. Melousa worked in Engineering while Cassiopea was Anaxilea’s First Officer on the Furnace of Charity. Melousa had green eyes and dark hair that reached to her waist. Cassiopea had equally long blonde hair and blue eyes. She was slightly older than Anaxilea, she was taller, too, and the curves of her body were more pronounced than either those of Melousa or Anaxilea.
Cassiopea shrugged and smiled wryly. “I suppose that went better than expected.” Like Bremusa, her voice was high-pitched and delicately tinkled in the air.
Her attempt at humour didn’t lighten Anaxilea’s mood. She sighed, reaching up to pull at her tunic under her right arm. The ruffled front panel broke away at the side and she pulled it down. She then reached up to rub her exposed neck, upper chest and shoulder, her long fingers massaging the skin. “I’m sorry, Pea,” she said turning her head and rubbing the back of her neck. “My stupid ideas about justice and fairness have condemned us all to an ignominious and useless death.”
“They weren’t stupid, Lea, and no one on board challenged your decisions.”
Melousa backed her up, her voice equally delicate. “We all know why you have failed to give the order to our gunners when all around us other ships fired. To kill the Edenites is unfair, but fate has never been fair to the unlucky. And the Edenites are unlucky. With or without a treaty, the Keruh would have attacked them at the same hour.”
Anaxilea looked at them both. “I have been granted a fine crew, but I am a foolish Captain. I have put my ideals above your needs. It is you that are unlucky.”
Cassiopea reached out and pulled on Anaxilea’s hair. “We are not unlucky. You have led us through many battles and we have been victorious on many occasions. We have survived long and well while many others have perished. The Furnace of Charity is steeped in the glories of war; she has bitten the enemy and made them fear us. There is not one woman aboard her who would swap places with another.”
Anaxilea glanced at Melousa. “There may be one,” she remarked, causing Melousa to blush and look away. It was a moment’s distraction, and then Anaxilea’s mind returned to the injustice of the situation, and her voice was raised in her annoyance and frustration.
“Oh, if only they had waited a little longer! If only they hadn’t signed that treaty, then we could have come here as their saviours, and not as their assassins!”
“It’s not your fault that they signed a treaty,” Cassiopea told her. “Not ours, nor Bremusa’s.”
“But it shouldn’t mean their death,” Anaxilea pointed out. “We entered this war with noble intentions, and now we’re finishing it with nothing but spite. It shouldn’t be like this. Bremusa doesn’t have to kill them all. It’s not right.”
Cassiopea moved her hand under Anaxilea’s hair and stroked the back of her neck. She spoke softly and comfortingly, and Anaxilea closed her eyes at the gentle touch of her friend, letting her caress and her words calm her.
“You can’t put the universe to rights, Anaxilea. There are always going to be injustices and evil. But for everything that’s bad, there are always going to be things that are good. Like friendship, love and the touch of another. I know you feel bad about this, but don’t blame Bremusa. She lost everything she cherished on Klysanthia. And she isn’t the only one who suffers that loss with bitterness in her veins.”
Anaxilea opened her eyes and looked sadly at Cassiopea.
“I hear you and understand you, Pea, but I have no heart in this. Our ship was named for one purpose but now we have been given another. We have to kill Edenites; we have to kill those who are like us, the victims of the Keruh. I can’t do it, Pea. I can’t condemn you all to die for nothing. To die fighting the Keruh, our true enemy, is one thing, but to end our lives as the murderers of innocents, no, I won’t do it. Give the order to break formation. Set course for—”
Cassiopea pulled Anaxilea close to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and placing a hand over her mouth, snuffing out her final words.
“Enough talk of treason!” she whispered harshly. “We all know the plan! We all know why we are here! If we are to be successful the Keruh Host must establish their bridgehead on Eden, we all know this! That is why Dione and those with her have volunteered for this task! And it is not a dishonourable death, but a truly honourable one, one that many others do not have the spirit or courage to face! We of the House of Charity have that courage! We have that spirit! And so we will go with the Bread of Angels, and we will shoot as they shoot! But if we should miss an Edenite ship and instead hit the Host, who will care for the mistake?”
There was a pause after Cassiopea had finished. Then Anaxilea slowly reached up and pulled Cassiopea’s hand from over her mouth. She held onto it and squeezed it, her eyes already wet. And when she spoke it was with a final sadness. “I thank you for your advice, Pea. You have always known how to guide me and lead me to the truth, but my heart cries out for you and the rest of the crew. Now even the g
lory of final victory has been taken from us.”
“Then nothing has changed,” Cassiopea replied with equal sadness. “Our future is as set as the past, and the path we now take leads to the same destiny. There is no other whom we would choose to lead us down that path. We trust in you, Anaxilea. With you at our head, we know that there is nothing to fear. And for this battle, the last battle, to choose how to die is to win.”
Anaxilea looked at Cassiopea and Melousa. Their faces were filled with such concern, such love. It hurt her to look at them. “Alright,” she said firmly. “We will follow Bremusa’s orders. It’s either that or step through an open air-lock.”
Cassiopea now tugged hard on Anaxilea’s brown hair, causing her to squeak. What they would have done next neither of them found out, because Dione appeared on the portal behind them, her hands on her hips. She spoke in irritation.
“Where are you? Why haven’t you followed me out of the main column?” She saw Anaxilea and Cassiopea standing together and folded her arms. “Oh, I see!” she said knowingly. “Petting one another again, are we? Well stop it! Bremusa is losing her patience and if you don’t hurry up and get moving soon she will order the fleet to fire upon you!”
Anaxilea and Cassiopea stepped apart. Anaxilea held up her hands. “Alright! Alright! We’re coming!”
Dione nodded. “Good!” She caught sight of Melousa and blew a kiss at her. A moment later and she was reaching forward to break the connection. Melousa stopped her.
“Wait!” she called out, stepping forward. Dione paused and looked up.
Melousa turned to Anaxilea. Her expression was filled with such yearning that Anaxilea couldn’t deny her. She nodded, and Melousa bounded onto the portal and embraced Dione. Their faces shone with delight as the image faded.
Cassiopea looked at Anaxilea. “Was that wise?”
Anaxilea nodded. “Melousa has chosen as we have chosen. If we are to die, it is best that we die with those we love.” She reached out and delicately brushed Cassiopea’s lips with her fingers as she spoke. It was a brief touch. They smiled at one another, but there was sadness in their eyes. And when Anaxilea spoke again, it was with finality.
“Tell Phoebe to follow the Bread of Angels. Have the crew prepare for battle.”
A short time later, and the Furnace of Charity joined the Bread of Angels and four other vessels at the front of the combined Klysanthian fleets. They flew in two wings, three upon three. Behind them came the Light of the World and the Shrine of the Spirit. These two vessels also flew one above the other, each leading a wave of ships in a wide curving line close behind them. Ship upon ship flew side by side, with more moving up from the columns behind them, until finally, the two wings of ships were complete, the Second Fleet above, the Ninth Fleet below. It was the battle formation that had proved to be the most effective.
The Klysanthian fleet was a colourful spectacle. Each vessel differed slightly from all the others, as if different engineers had made them all at different times. They were also painted and embellished differently. Each vessel was an individual, named and painted to reflect the personality of the family group who commanded it. But although they each differed in detail, colour, size and style, they were all built to a similar design. A double hull joined by a wide wing with a serrated front edge. Above and to the front of the wing was a third hull, built in the shape of a sweeping dorsal fin. It was wider at the base where it joined the wing and reached out on either side to each of the other two hulls. At the top it narrowed until it swept back to a final point. The whole of this third hull was ribbed and the fin had a saw-tooth front edge.
The two great wings of ships flew on, a colourful flock against the darkness of space. And ahead of them, Eden was growing visibly larger.