Witch Of The Federation III (Federal Histories Book 3) Read online

  The other man frowned. “I haven’t seen a Meligornian ship that size before—or in those colors. That’s not Federation standard.”

  “I didn’t know they had one that big,” his companion commented and narrowed his eyes as the massive vessel shuddered out of transition space and into their own dimension. “She’s—”

  He stopped as though lost for words and his gaze roved over the hull.

  “Beautiful...” Captain Eaton murmured, his voice a mixture of awe, admiration, and desire. “Absolutely beautiful.”

  “I didn’t know they had one of that class,” the Marine stated. “Hell, I didn’t even know that class existed.”

  The captain’s frown grew deeper. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was someone’s personal craft.”

  “That size?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing says rulership like a big vessel.”

  Frog sputtered, his face surprisingly innocent when they looked toward him.

  “Something entertains you?” he asked, and the guard shook his head.

  “I sneezed, sir.”

  Captain Eaton looked unimpressed and the Marine captain regarded Frog with a mildly interested air. Stephanie didn’t know which expression was worse.

  “Like a ship of the line?” she asked to distract them.

  The captain shook his head. “No. This is much bigger and has more firepower.”

  “It’s a statement,” the Marine told her. “It’s telling the universe that whoever rides in that vessel is the biggest damned dog in the ring and that all the other packs need to pay it heed.”

  He turned to Stephanie. “And the Meligornians chose that to collect you. They’re saying you are as important to them as their king and—”

  His words broke off when Captain Eaton stilled before he raised his hand to his ear he listened to a request coming over the comms.

  “Put them through here,” he told the comms officer. “The Witch will be happy to speak to them.”

  That was all the heads-up Stephanie had before a Meligornian appeared on the viewscreen, his ship forming the perfect backdrop. The cats had settled to either side of her, and Lars and Vishlog stood behind them. The other guys were arrayed as evenly as possible on either side.

  His face lit up and he gave a slight bow when he saw her standing among her hastily gathered guard. “Kaitel Gorniffula, Master Morgana.”

  She stepped toward the screen and offered him a Meligornian bow. “Kaitel Gorniffula, Captain...”

  “Islafel, Master. I am deeply honored to carry you and your team to the world of Dreth.” He turned to the Herman Michaels’ captain. “Thank you, Captain Eaton. We will send the shuttle for Master Morgana shortly. We thank you for your service in bringing her safely to us.”

  Stephanie couldn’t tell if the Meligornian was offering a subtle insult or if he was offering genuine thanks.

  Captain Islafel’s gesture included them all. Whatever he was offering Captain Eaton, he certainly made it clear that she and the team were Meligornian citizens.

  Stephanie turned to the two captains standing with her. “Thank you,” she told them. “I appreciate your hospitality.”

  The Marine stepped forward. “We will escort you to the hangar, ma’am,” he said.

  Captain Eaton glanced at the screen. “Lieutenant Amhurst will direct your shuttle.”

  “Thank you, Captain. Again, it was a pleasure to meet you and your ship in times of peace.”

  Eaton eyed the Meligornian monstrosity behind his counterpart. “And may all our meetings be in such times.”

  As if his words signaled the end of their conversation, the screen returned them to a view of stars almost obliterated by the bulk of the ship. As they watched, a hangar opened in the side closest to them and a sleek, powerful shuttle emerged.

  It was liveried in the same colors as The King’s Warrior, although the teal was slightly darker and the gold edged its wings.

  “Impressive,” the captain murmured and offered his arm to Stephanie. “Shall we?”

  “We shall,” she agreed, took his arm, and let him guide her to the shuttle hangar.

  Behind her, Frog gave Vishlog orders.

  “There you go, big guy. The trolley’s all yours.”

  “I don’t see why.”

  “New guy always pushes the luggage,” he informed him, “and you’re the newest guy here.”

  The rest of the team chuckled and Lars confirmed it.

  “Sorry, Vishlog. That’s the way it’s always been.”

  Stephanie relaxed when the Dreth did not argue and was glad when they reached the hangar with no further incident.

  The shuttle touched down as they arrived in the passenger lounge, and they watched as the pilot brought it gently onto the landing pad. The bay hatch closed, and warning lights flashed until the hangar had repressurized.

  As soon as the lights flashed green and the all-clear sounded, the shuttle extended a boarding ramp down which marched a contingent of the Meligornian Royal Guard. Their teal and gold uniforms refracted the hangar lights as they lined up along the sides of the ramp.

  As soon as they were in place, two royal stewards moved forward to flank the door.

  “That’s your cue,” Captain Elliot told Stephanie. “Thank you for gracing the Herman with your presence.”

  She inclined her head. “Thank you for looking after us, Captain.”

  Not wishing to prolong the goodbye, she strode swiftly out into the hangar and up the ramp, allowing the first steward to guide her to her seat while the other showed the team where to stow their equipment.

  Once everyone was settled, the shuttle closed and the hangar lights flashed their warning as the ship cycled the doors. Their exit was as smooth as the shuttle’s landing had been, but their journey across to The King’s Warrior took a circuitous route.

  The shuttle dipped below the massive ship and skimmed around its hull as though the pilot were trying to give them a closer view of what they were riding in. They spiraled around the huge vessel and along the big ship’s belly into the waiting hangar.

  The team was in awe. Even Frog seemed lost for words. The only ones who seemed bored by the whole process were the cats. They perked their ears when everyone turned to the windows but one look at the teal hull flashing past them was enough.

  Zeekat gave an impressive yawn, showed all his teeth, and pointedly curled on one of the seats and flicked his tail over his nose. In the seat opposite, Bumblebee did the same.

  Lars glanced at them and then at Stephanie. “Don’t take them to any diplomatic functions,” he advised. “I don’t think they’re cut out for it.”

  She smiled and returned to the view. The King’s Warrior truly was an impressive beast and she felt more than a little humbled that it had been sent for her. It paled in comparison to the welcome awaiting her, though.

  When the shuttle descended into the hangar, the windows went black and blocked the view of the outside. Lars shifted uneasily in his seat, and the team mirrored his movement. The stewards edged to the front of the shuttle, and the boys watched their every move.

  Stephanie quietly channeled gMU in and began to spin it in an internal vortex. While she didn’t think it was a trap, she also didn’t want to be unprepared.

  “Welcome to The King’s Warrior, Master Morgana,” a royal steward greeted her. “We have been looking forward to your arrival.”

  She rose and walked over to them. The cats followed and took their place on either side of her, while Lars and Vishlog moved into position behind them. The rest of the team fell in at the rear and the steward merely waited placidly.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, and his partner smiled.

  “Wait!” Lars commanded as they reached for the door.

  He stepped around Stephanie. “It is customary for her security to go first,” he explained and Vishlog stepped forward as well.

  At first, Stephanie thought the stewards might be angry but they smiled. “Of course,” th
ey responded. “We would expect nothing less.”

  They gestured toward the door and her two guards stepped out side by side. She frowned when they both saw what was waiting and stiffened. Lars moved to one side of the door and Vishlog continued down the ramp.

  “Clear,” the team leader called, but his voice was strangely hoarse. He coughed and repeated the word. “Clear.”

  As if to support what he was saying, the stewards gestured toward the door. She took a deep breath and walked forward. She didn’t know what her teammates had seen, but she had a feeling it wasn’t an empty hangar.

  What she found when she stepped through the hatch and onto the head of the ramp made her breath catch. She also glanced at the stewards.

  “Is someone else meant to be on the shuttle?”

  This earned her a broad smile.

  “No, Master Morgana. They are waiting for you.”

  When she turned back, the waiting crowd cheered. The cats flattened their ears and lashed their tails while they roared a challenge in reply. As if it were a signal, the crowd cheered again and began to applaud.

  Stephanie lowered her hands to the cats’ heads and stroked their crowns. Their ears flicked forward and their tails stilled. They looked enquiringly at her as she surveyed the Meligornians waiting in the hangar.

  They stood six-deep around the edges, which explained some of the delay between when the shuttle had touched down and the doors being opened. Still, she didn’t understand why they were there. She couldn’t understand.

  When they saw her hesitate, the crowd grew quiet, then restless. Lars stepped forward and tucked her hand over his arm. “Shall we see what else they have planned for us?” he murmured and she managed a shaky smile.

  As they began to walk down the stairs, music issued from the intercom—the Meligornian anthem. Vishlog fell in step beside her. The crowd at the bottom of the ramp parted to form an honor guard and gave her a clear path to the passenger lounge.

  Still bemused, she walked toward it and noticed that it stood empty save for two imposing figures who waited at the door. She thought she recognized the height and silver hair of the Meligornian noble at first, but the emerald-green armor edged with lines of silver and gold was new.

  Stephanie frowned in confusion. Battle armor? In a Meligornian battleship?

  Nothing seemed to add up. The mission to Dreth was supposed to be a peaceful one. She fought down the urge to give Lars an anxious look and drew herself to her full height, internalized her concern, and forced a look of serene calm over her face.

  They might be Meligornian nobility, but she was the Witch of the Federation and a citizen of three worlds. She let her gaze drift over the second armored figure. This one’s armor was plainer.

  It was still emerald-green, but it lacked the gold and silver embellishment and the helmet tucked under its arm lacked the crest. The shield it bore was a dark-green with the sigil of the royal family etched on its surface.

  It took her a moment before she recognized V’ritan and Brilgus behind their stern features, and her heart lifted. Her steps quickened and she came to a halt before them and performed the formal bow of greeting reserved for those one step down from the king.

  Some of the sternness melted from the silver-haired knight’s features, and he smiled as he returned her greeting.

  “V’ritan!” she cried as soon as his bow was complete, and she threw her arms around him.

  At the sound of her cry, the assembly cheered and began a joyful chant: “Ghargilum Afreghil. Ghargili Ghargilum! Kaitel Gorniffula! Kaitel Gorniffula Ghargili Afreghil! Kaitel Gorniffula Ghargili Meligorn!”

  He hugged her in return and turned her to face the crowd.

  “What are they saying?” she whispered but the chant had already switched to Federation Standard.

  “Valiant Soul of the King. Champions of the Valiant Soul! Welcome! Welcome Champions of the King. Welcome Champions of Meligorn!”

  “And now we acknowledge them,” V’ritan instructed and stepped forward to give the audience a bow usually only reserved for royalty.

  Stephanie and the team followed and the cats simply watched, their eyes wide. After a moment’s hesitation, both felines extended their forepaws in a long, sinuous stretch, bared their teeth in mock yawns, and closed their jaws when they completed the movement.

  “And finally, I thank them for their welcome and dismiss them to their duties,” V’ritan continued, his voice so soft that she nearly missed it.

  As she pieced together what he had said, he stepped forward and did what he’d described. When he stood silently and watched his people disperse, she stood with him to acknowledge those who approached to bow before they left.

  By the time they were alone, she felt like the muscles in her waist and thighs burned from returning so many greetings.

  “You couldn’t have warned a girl?” she demanded when they were finally alone and he laughed.

  “Now where would the fun have been in that?” he asked. “Besides, you acquitted yourselves very well. I’d dare say your team has learned some manners in the time we’ve been apart.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Lars muttered, his tone dry.

  Brilgus laughed and he went to stand beside him. “It is good to see you, my friend.”

  “And you,” the large man replied and lowered his voice. “Now there is a chance we’ll get out of this without losing our heads.”

  “It’s all Ambassador Jaleck’s fault,” V’ritan explained several hours later over dinner.

  They sat around the table, having enjoyed their first full meal on board The King’s Warrior. The team, V’ritan, Brilgus, and the cats were the only ones present. Surprisingly, the latter had been given places of their own and had started the meal perched atop tall Meligornian chairs.

  That, however, had not lasted very long.

  Zeekat had knocked the first bowl of soup to the floor and hopped down calmly to lap it clean. Bumblebee had added to the chaos when he’d glanced at Zee slurping contentedly at his supper and tapped his own bowl over the edge so it landed on the other feline’s head.

  The ensuing caterwauling rough and tumble had resulted in several overturned chairs, half a dozen personnel being treated for scratches, and an adjournment to a dining room reserved for unexpected guests—and the decision had been made to give them the rest of their meal on the floor. As the entrees were served a second time, the cats were fed in carefully separate corners.

  “Back to Ambassador Jaleck,” Stephanie prompted. “What is all her fault?”

  “This visit to Dreth,” V’ritan told her. “The Dreth insist you prove yourself.”

  She frowned but Vishlog spoke before she could ask why.

  “How did it happen?” he asked, although his tone said he could guess.

  “When she took the warning of the Nihilism to her Coalition of Families, they referred it immediately to the Dreth Council and that is where the trouble began.”

  The warrior sighed heavily and nodded, his expression somber. “Let me guess, there were those who did not believe my Witch was worthy of representing them.”

  “Precisely,” the King’s Warrior confirmed.

  “And Jaleck suggested the only thing every Dreth would acknowledge.”

  “Yes. She suggested that Stephanie and her team prove their worth in the Fortress of Fire and Respect.”

  “How does it work?” she asked.

  V’ritan leaned forward. “It is like the wave testing done in the military, save that it has an end.”

  “And you need to not only win but win honorably,” Vishlog added. “You will be judged on not only your physical prowess but on how you treat your enemies. Ruthlessness is admired and some forms of mercy are considered foolish, but respect and honor are central to all.”

  Stephanie nodded. “Okay. I got that, but how does it actually work?”

  He looked at the Meligornian. “Each one is slightly different. Did they give you the details?”

&nbs
p; “No.” He shook his head. Although I have used other means to ascertain what to expect.”

  Vishlog smiled. “And I am here. Whatever you have discovered, they will naturally think I am the only one who revealed it.”

  “I am glad you understand.” V’ritan smiled in return. “Your people have a convoluted way of showing they wish to make an alliance.”

  The Dreth snorted. “My people? I am one of them, but I have never truly belonged. They made that quite clear. Only Ambassador Jaleck—”

  He stopped and made a vague gesture with his hand, but the Meligornian inclined his head in acknowledgment. “I understand. This is what I have discovered. As I said, it is a wave game.”

  A viewscreen activated on the side of the wall. It displayed a brief overview of the Dreth political structure, from the Council of Families to each regional Family Coalition and their respective houses, clans, and families.

  “That’s...convoluted,” Johnny murmured and his gaze scanned rapidly over the screen as he took it in.

  Stephanie nodded but said nothing as she studied the way each family was connected.

  “Yes,” V’ritan answered. “It is convoluted, but the planet’s terrain is difficult and unity was a long time coming. For many generations, dealing with the Dreth was done in sections instead of a world as a whole. That is only a relatively recent thing, although it is now firmly established.”

  When they’d had time to take the structure in, he continued. “From what I understand, Stephanie must prove her worth by facing challengers from every Family Coalition and these challengers can be separated into groups.”

  He looked at Vishlog for confirmation, and the Dreth nodded. “You need to understand that the champions are the supreme warriors and their purpose goes beyond medals or acclaim. In many cases, they hold the future of clans or families in their hands in their hands—a future that can be secured or lost in the field of battle. How many challengers—or champions—each family sends will depend on how much they believe she is worth.