Ursula - part 2
The Warlords waited for her in the Black Room, the strategic operations center deep in the heart of the Starwolf flagship Retribution. Ursula strode in and took her seat in the circle, ignoring the salutes of her staff. Her thigh still ached where one of the Blood Eagle prisoners from the other day had landed a solid kick. She rubbed it absently with her fist.
"Let's get to work," she said. "Fleet status, Kal."
"Sure thing." Her husband rotated his chair toward the viewscreen that dominated one wall. He tapped the controls on his armrest, and an organizational schematic appeared on the screen. The hoarse voice and deep lines in his face betrayed his fatigue. He'd run himself mercilessly trying to whip their patchwork fleet into a cohesive military organism while Ursula worked on training ground assault forces and navigating the fiery politics of the tribe's command structure. Her main problem involved keeping the tangled and fractious Starwolf warbands united. The challenges Kal faced came from the same source. The Starwolf's traditional independence and interstellar sprawl meant they were totally unready to cooperate effectively in any mass naval action.
He'd also been taking care of her at the same time, which she had to admit added immensely to his stress levels. She felt a twinge of guilt but suppressed it.
He rubbed his face before starting, as if to keep himself awake. "OK, we're close. The overhaul is nearly complete. Almost every ship of the fleet now carries standard communications and sensor suites. Our crews have gotten their battlegroup maneuver and communications drills up over ninety percent efficiency. We'll see how that holds up under live fire conditions, but I'm damn glad we made it this far." He made an adjustment to his comp, and the display changed to a starmap of the Starwolf-Blood Eagle territories, highlighting a string of stars between the two regions. "A more pressing problem is the small-scale raids Fury's been mounting along the border. We've stripped so much fighting power that our defenses in other areas are tapped out. Some of the fringe systems have suffered Griever raids. A few of our Captains have expressed worry about defenseless holdworlds, and the border Thanes have requested the return of their Packs."
Medavara M'Klannin shook her head in disgust. "Cowards. They have the means to hold out against these piddling annoyances. With all the other tribes clustering at the Firetruce, there won't be any major raids."
A snort came from Milanos "Bearshark" Bane, the stubborn white-haired giant who led the Stormrender Thousand. He was an old man, but still fit and vital, a legend in the tribe and a constant thorn in Ursula's side. "We come from a border system, and you don't find our Thane mewling about Fury's pinpricks. Ignore them!"
"Blood Eagle raids have dropped off since we took Shek Two and denied her that jumpgate," Kalamon added. "Fury has to shuttle troops through Halakar space to reach the border now. It's a much longer route to her targets. I think those Thanes will be more than satisfied."
Ursula nodded. "Good. Remind them that if we deal with the butchers decisively, we'll all be safer in the long run. A year from now, maybe two, we'll be at Outermost, besieging the Great Eagle in his last stronghold." She managed a thin smile. "And Gavram's assault wing handled the invasion of Shekerik Two very well. I'd say that gives us a useful indicator of crew performance as well as a buffer against Fury."
Bane cracked his palm against the table, and several of the warlords started. "Ur-Warlord, we don't need buffers! We outnumber Fury - it's embarrassing by how much! Shek Two was unnecessary - all we did was put another planet between us and that butcher witch! It's her buffer, not ours!"
"Since you're jumping in, why not tell us how your troops are doing, Bane?" Ursula shot back.
"Feh! The Stormrenders will rip the wings off those bastards whenever you finally see fit to turn us loose! We've been ready for months while you all fret like sandrakers about supply line integrity and communication protocols!"
Kal stiffened, several of the other Warlords winced, and Ursula fought back the urge to leap across the table and put her fist into the insolent old bastard's teeth. The perfect example of the command problems she faced, the Stormrenders were fierce fighters, but unwilling to follow commands coming from sources other than their own clan chiefs. Worse, Bane favored what he called "direct strategy" and flatly refused to wait in reserve. He was a tenacious leader loved by his warriors, but not the brightest light in the Muster. Ursula only secured his cooperation after she promised he would be in the vanguard of the assault on Charybdis. Dealing with him was a constant test of her temper, and he'd just been getting worse as the Muster's preparations dragged on.
"That day will come, Warlord, I assure you." Turning to Gavram Argos, the Admiral of Stars who would coordinate the Fleet's Battlegroups during the invasion, she asked, "How soon will we be ready to move, Gav?"
"Fourteen days. Ten to shake out the last loose ends, and another four to finish loading everyone." Argos grinned. "We'll come down on Charybdis like a rainstorm from hell, sir."
Bane folded his arms and sneered. "After the Stormrenders have done the hard work and spilled their blood cracking open Fury's defenses, right?"
"By the Wolf, Milanos! Don't you ever use that tone in front of me!" Ursula slammed to her feet, rage thundering in her temples.
He stood also, his face mottling. "Why not? If you'd let us go after Fury with M'Klannin's boys and the Branded Mountain Thousand, we'd have broken the witch before she had a chance to dig in any further!"
"Aren't you forgetting what happened on Shek Two? How her troops - severely outnumbered - fended off our ground assault while they pulled their people out?"
"They didn't get everyone," Argos put in. "We took quite a few prisoners."
Bane waved a meaty hand at Argos. "His pinhanded stringers couldn't hold the jumpgate! But that's my point, damn it! If I was there, we'd have crushed the butchers!" He glared around the table, his eyes like hot blue flames. "The Stormrenders know how to fight the Blood Scrof better than any of you! We've shared a border with them for over two hundred years! But here we're bottled up prancing through a lot of political trumpery! Jury-rigging our ships while the butchers laugh and burrow deeper into their maggoty fortresses!"
"Let me remind you," said Ursula, exerting enormous effort to contain herself, "Fury is different from the other Blood Eagle we've fought. Her Order is highly disciplined. They don't turtle up like most butchers. We can't afford to face her without being fully prepared."
He laughed in her face. "You're afraid of her because she killed your son! That's the truth, isn't it?"
The words hit Ursula like bullets, and she stared down at the table, afraid of what she would do if she continued to look at Bane's arrogant face. Murder him, most likely. Her hands knotted so hard the knuckles whitened. She felt herself tremble as the rage tightened like a steel band around her ribcage. How dare he?
How dare he!
The room had fallen deadly silent. She heard the scrape as Kalamon got to his feet. "That's enough, Bane," he said in an icy voice. "You're out of li-"
"Get the hell out of my war room." Ursula spat the words out like pieces of glass. She looked up and met his rage with her own. "Out!"
"I'll go," Bane snarled, "but don't think you can order us around when it comes to real battle! The Stormrenders fight their own wars."
Only a supreme exercise of will kept her fists from pulping the sneer off the man's face. "I'm sure Fury will be glad to hear that, Warlord. You're welcome to go after her whenever you like." She laughed at the surprise in his eyes. "Ayia! Why not go now? After all, you've been ready for months, haven't you?"
He tensed as she approached him and stared up into his weathered face. "You can go now, Warlord," she said in a deadly tone. "You are dismissed."
He reddened, then spun and stomped out without another word. The door shushed closed behind him.
She turned and regarded the room. "Anyone else want to leave my command?" Several gazes dropped, but no one moved.
"We're with you, Ur-Warlord," said M'Klannin quietly.
"Good. I thank you." She breathed a silent thanks. "Let's reconvene in ten minutes." After the warlords had left, she found herself alone with Kal.
"You better get a grip on your temper, Soo," he observed.
"He provoked me."
"And you took his bait. How can you expect us to win with a commander who lacks self-control?"
She slumped into a chair and closed her eyes. Her head ached. "I don't need you to tell me this, Kal."
"Yes, you do. And you also need to know you're right. Someone needs to settle the Blood Eagle. They've been a blight on the wilderzone for a long time. But you can't let the anger dominate you like it's done so far."
"They killed my son."
"Your son?" Pain shadowed his words. "Laram was my son, too. Remember?"
She knew she should say something conciliatory, but she couldn't summon the will. The rage was there, hot and flaring, blocking all feeling. Kal didn't understand how it protected her from the abyss that yawned in her soul every time she thought of Laram. But he was right that she needed better control. The clash with Bane had stoked the rage and hatred to a fresh heat. There was only one way she could quench it to a manageable level.
She opened her eyes. "Kal?"
"Yes?"
"Two more butchers. In the morning. Cargo Hold B."
His face closed, and something in her heart clenched, but she didn't know how to reach out anymore.
"Ursula-" he began.
She cut him off. "No. Two butchers. Oh-six-hundred hours."
For an instant he looked ready to refuse, but she caught his gaze and held it. Finally he relented. She saw it in the resigned slump of his shoulders. He did know she needed the outlet for her pain, even though he disliked it.
"And Kal?"
"What?"
"Get me real fighters this time."[1]
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References