The

  Heartless

  Hinds

  Book 4: Beyond the Impossible

  Frank Kennedy

  Dedicated to all those who know power corrupts but can’t wait to grab hold of it anyway.

  c. 2022 by Frank Kennedy

  All rights reserved

  ASIN: B09RX2G1JK

  To my amazing readers:

  Welcome to the fourth book in this series. If you haven’t read the previous three, I’d recommend you READ THEM HERE first. If you read the books but some of the plot is a bit hazy, READ HERE for a spoiler-filled recap.

  Every reader is valuable, and I’d love for you to become part of my literary family. Go to www.frankkennedy.org and sign up for my newsletter, which will provide an opportunity to receive free additional material, updates on the next release in Beyond the Impossible series, as well as other offers connected to my work. Additionally, follow me on Amazon for product updates.

  GREGORY: Do you quarrel, sir?

  ABRAM: Quarrel, sir? No, sir.

  SAMPSON: But if you do, sir, I am for you. I serve as good a man as you.

  ABRAM: No better.

  SAMPSON: Well, sir.

  Enter Benvolio

  GREGORY (aside to Sampson): Say “better,” here comes one of my master’s kinsmen.

  SAMPSON: Yes, better, sir.

  ABRAM: You lie.

  SAMPSON: Draw if you be men. Gregory, remember thy slashing blow.

  They fight.

  BENVOLIO: Part, fools! (Drawing his sword) Put up your swords. You know not what you do.

  Enter Tybalt, drawing his sword.

  TYBALT: What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn thee, Benvolio; look upon thy death.

  - Romeo & Juliet, Act I, Scene 1

  Exogenesis

  Horatio, Flagship of the United Chancellor Front

  Standard Year 5363

  Day 950 of the Earth Civil War

  E x-Supreme Admiral Angela Poussard would carry the shame of defeat to her grave. So what then did it matter to engage in a little mutiny? If she could save thirty thousand lives, the ledger would tilt in her favor. Someone might even speak fondly of the woman after tossing her out the airlock.

  “It’s not too late to put me in shackles, Walter,” she told Col. Johansson, her executive aide. “You’ll have that promotion you’ve been wanting.”

  “Major for a day? Doesn’t have a great ring.”

  “I think you’ll appreciate it, nonetheless. You’ve been stuck in the mud for what, seven years?”

  “Nine, actually. The truth is, Angela, I’d be a lousy major.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I’d have to order about arrogant pricks like myself.”

  “Fair point.”

  “After today, I don’t think rank will matter much anymore. The honor of high office has diminished. Good old days, long gone.”

  “Gone yes, but not long, and most definitely not forgotten. Are our people in place?”

  The colonel sighed. “We’re asking a great deal of them. Norvath was uneasy, but he’ll come through.”

  “Gustav has never fired a shot in his career. Would be a shame if today were the first.”

  The lift slipped open. They stepped onto Horatio’s command deck. Officers minded holostations in a hemispheric arrangement at the center of which the fleet admiral sat, silent and brooding – the way he spent the past several weeks of the war.

  Angela whispered to Col. Johansson.

  “Do nothing without my signal. I’ll give this my best. Thirty-five years in the UG has to have taught me something.”

  “I hope that includes how to talk down a madman.”

  "I dealt with a few, but I always had a rifle at my side.”

  Angela was the only one on the command deck in civvies, a reality that left her cold. Still, no one noticed. They long ago ignored the disgraced relic who oversaw the Unification Guard at the Fall of the Collectorate. Her calamitous defeat in the so-called “Last Day’s War” – ten thousand dead in less than an hour – seemed insignificant against the millions lost on Earth and throughout the Sol system.

  She approached Admiral John Haus with no expectation for success. He ignored her military counsel for thirty days. When she tried to leverage their personal connection, Haus pinched his bottom lip and made his position clear: Mention our traitorous son at your peril.

  Angela veered away from talk of Dante. He was the enemy now.

  We trained you too well, Son.

  Haus grumbled when Angela reached his side.

  “What?”

  “I’m here to do my job.”

  “To question my command and convince me to accept terms.”

  “I’ve never questioned your command, Admiral, only your capacity to fulfill it.”

  Haus rapped the armrest with his knuckles.

  “Ah. Was that what you told Bastian Grandover when you pushed him out?”

  “Something along those lines. As I recall, you supported me.”

  “The man was a traitor. But if he’d been left to his own devices, we would not be here now, navigating debris fields and enemy mines. Your power grab unleashed the Warner Alliance.”

  “I’m not here to rehash my role in the Fall. I’ll leave my fate to the historians. My GPM directive gives me unfettered access to …”

  “I’ve never cared about your damn directive, Angela.”

  “Three times you’ve complained to the GPM. Yet here I stand. Apparently, your harangues do not impress them, either. Admiral, the GPM is going to fall within days. Warner has established air supremacy over the Plains. The only real question is whether the Admiralty will be allowed to walk out alive.”

  “They had ample opportunity to evacuate. True to form, they hid far from the front lines. The fleet has no need of their guidance. Nor do I require yours.”

  The officers of the United Chancellor Front continued their duties, oblivious to the row between the fleet commander and his first wife. The officers spoke with urgency, but only to each other. As with Angela’s other visits, Haus showed little interest, insisting all tactical boards be forwarded to his stream amp. If he felt the need for an edict, he’d break his silence.

  “Admiral, we have a detachment of thirty thousand soldiers. They deserve a future, even if they have to endure life on the short end. You are leading them into a trap.”

  “So proclaims she who knows more about walking into traps than anyone. Do remind me how you assaulted Hiebimini with scant intel and the presumption of victory by element of surprise.”

  Haus had played this game before. Four years passed since her tribunal. She experienced enough mockery, cold shoulders, and social expulsion to fill a lifetime. Only the flames of civil war made people forget. It shouldn’t have hurt coming from Haus, but it did.

  “Admiral, the planet is called Aeterna now. Check the latest charts. I would expect better of you than a simple whataboutism.”

  “To my point, Angela. I know our enemy’s location and disposition.” He tapped the amp melded to his right temple, revealing a live holofield of all assets – friend and foe – in high orbit. “My strategy utilizes what I can see and what our agents have reported across the lines. I will not blindly jump into a slaughter.”

  “No. Your eyes will be wide open when they kill you.”

  He took the insult without visible displeasure. Instead, Haus grabbed the holo and zeroed in on a sector twenty thousand kilometers from Horatio. He pointed.

  “There. The Maria Clotis. The key.”

  “You’re going for Warner’s new weapons.”

  “We need a solid win to regain momentum.”

  “You’re certain they’re housing the devices?”

  “We have two agents onboard.”

  “Do you have visual proof?”

  “They match the description from every recent attack.”

  Haus was a fool. Why couldn’t he see the obvious?

  “Bait,” she whispered then regrouped, loud enough for Haus. “How predictable will you be, Admiral? You’ll order two support ships to engage in flanking maneuvers, but non-aggressive. Just enough to distract. You’ll prepare a strike team to launch from Horatio. Four Scramjets in a dyemark pattern. You’ll wait for the Maria Clotis to move into Reykjavik Tower’s firing zone. Once the pieces are in place, you’ll engage Gen. Bryznewski in the cease-fire terms he has demanded for days. The general will extend his air group’s range, allowing you to punch holes through his firewall. If you disable the Clotis, the strike teams will do the rest.”

  He maintained a stoic pose, though he must have been furious at how well she read him.

  “We’ll turn the war. I’ll have Bryznewski on bended knee, listening to my terms.”

  “You won’t live to see the day. This is a trap. Your informants work for Warner. That ship is a decoy. Have you lost your faculties?”

  “What I’ve lost is my patience for playing defense.”

  “Randolph Jameson said the same thing last month before he led the Antwerp Attack Group into Warner’s net. He lost Paris Dome. We’ll never have a full accounting of the dead, but it’s nearing a million. Admiral, the inevitable is staring back at us.”

  Angela pointed to the debris between Horatio and Maria Clotis.

  “That is what will remain of Horatio unless you search for an exit strategy. Warner is not interested in priso
ners. They give no quarter and will never allow old guard Chancellors to reclaim Earth for the caste. Those days are finished, but the Chancellory has options.”

  For the first time, she drew a reaction. Haus leaned forward. He examined his fingers and bit down on a thumbnail.

  “Now I understand. You’ve signed up with Joakim Barter’s people. The runaways. You want Horatio to join his fleet.”

  “It would be an invaluable asset. Barter has found a new ally, a man with incredible resources. The fleet grows. Ten thousand loyal Chancellors looking to start over. Our caste began with far less.”

  “Ah, yes. The fantasy of a new home world. And you, Angela? Perhaps your eye is set to a certain system run by the terrorists who slaughtered your invasion force. Yes?”

  “I’ve never hidden my desire to rain hell upon those immortal bastards. One man in particular. But Aeterna is outside our reach … for now. In a few years, the equation will shift in our favor. In the meantime, Barter’s fleet needs military assets.”

  “Next you will tell me how our sudden retreat to the Nexus will send shockwaves through the UCF and bring a swift end to the war, saving millions more lives.”

  “If we continue to fight, we’ll lose. Surrender is weeks away.”

  “And we leave Earth to be run by a coalition of Solomon filth and Chancellors in name only. What will the past thousand years of colonization have been for, Angela?”

  “To demonstrate the heights we can achieve. Admiral … John … you and I had the misfortune to be caught on a wheel of fire. We don’t have to ride it to our ruin. Earth is not our future.”

  “It is our birthright.”

  “Our so-called birthright is smoldering. Seven cities are craters. The Jewel of the Collectorate will never heal. It’s time to walk away, John. It’s time for a dose of pragmatism.”

  Haus shifted the holo’s focus to Horatio’s flank. A thousand kilometers away, traffic in the neutral shipping lanes remained steady, transporting medical and food supplies between Earth and the Ark Carriers holding position far from the combat zone.

  “There’s your pragmatism,” he said. “Commerce continues in the shadow of war. Imagine how vibrant the traffic will be when our people descend from the Carriers to build new cities. In ten years, Earth will shine again.”

  “And then? Build a fleet of warships and reclaim the colonies?”

  “With lessons well learned. Yes.”

  “You’re a fantasist.”

  “An old accusation. I accept it with pride.”

  “If only I had the power to relieve you of command. I’d consult your XO, but she’s more of an ass than you.”

  The first twinkle in his eyes. Did she detect a smile coming?

  “My XO and I are indeed of one mind, Angela. In fact, when we discussed your impending attempt to drive a mutiny, we reached a similar conclusion.” He unveiled the sneer of a victor unable to restrain his joy. “You think I’m disconnected from my crew, but I know everything that happens on this ship.”

  He blinked twice while Angela processed the sudden turn. Two officers swiveled about-face from their holostations and unholstered their weapons. One trained on Angela, the other on Col. Johansson.

  Behind her, the door slipped open. Horatio’s Executive Officer, Maj. Gayle Rainier, made a victorious entrance, stepping from the lift. The giant woman with short, spiked hair and arms like timbers nodded to another officer, who disarmed Johansson without resistance. Angela felt the devastating futility of her plan when she saw who followed Rainier, his head bowed.

  Gustav.

  Lt. Gustav Norvath, who served on Angela’s bridge during the assault on Aeterna, who sat beside her when they accepted terms of surrender, who remained on her staff through the past four tumultuous years, avoided her eyes.

  “We have them, Admiral,” Rainier said. “Threat neutralized.”

  A few officers looked up from their stations, but their glances were fleeting, as if no one was surprised.

  “This also is pragmatism,” Haus said. “We cannot defeat Warner and fight mutineers at the same time. I do wish you had chosen another path, but I’ve known your sentiments for some while.”

  Angela steeled her spine. She damn well refused to give Haus the pleasure of seeing her wither.

  “This will be your last mistake, John.”

  “I told myself that very thing upon our divorce. Away.”

  He never flinched. Whatever he had become did not resemble the man she once knew. Had their son Dante, now a commander within the Warner Alliance, hardened himself to an equal fanaticism?

  She was a dreadful wife and mother but a worse general. It was time to pay for both.

  Angela stood at the rear of the lift, flanked by Johansson and Norvath. The XO and two officers stared at them without expression on the downward journey.

  “I’m sorry, Angela,” Norvath said. “They already suspected.”

  “You killed us,” Johansson muttered between clinched teeth. “We were trying to save this crew.”

  “They don’t want to be saved.”

  Was he right? Was that her greatest miscalculation?

  This was no time to analyze her failure. She thought it better to think of final words before they shot her. Or would they save flash pegs and simply toss her out an airlock?

  The lift stopped.

  Rainier bore predatory eyes into Angela and said:

  “With me.”

  Rainier pivoted while the other officers held fast. Johansson grabbed Angela’s arm.

  “Looks like I won’t have that promotion,” he said, his smile glossy but forced. “It’s been my honor, Supreme Admiral Poussard.”

  “And mine, Colonel.”

  She did not share the sentiment with Norvath, but she wanted to despite his last-hour betrayal. The stage was too bright for him.

  Angela followed Rainier from the lift. After the door closed, two shots followed.

  “The other eight are being lined up now,” the major said. “We will broadcast their execution across the ship. It will serve as a motivator.”

  “If you expect me to plead for my life or beg you to see reason about this attack on the Maria Clotis, you’ll find no joy.”

  “No. I already found pleasure in your misfortune. I read the transcript from your surrender to the Aeternans. You allowed their leader, a proto-African no less, to humiliate you and your executive staff. Never has a Chancellor lost combat and dignity to such extreme. This is why your attempt to mutiny was easily predicted.”

  “Will it be a rifle or an airlock, Major?”

  “I wish. Heartily. But unlike you, I believe in the chain of command. I am loyal to my Admiral and I follow his orders.”

  Rainier pressed a lock-seal at an escape hatch.

  “In,” she snapped.

  Angela stared into the body of the emergency evac pod.

  “What is this?”

  “The Admiral’s orders.” She double-blinked. “I’ve transferred a CVid to your stack. I’ll forward the release after you leave our ship.”

  “No. I deserve the same end as my team.”

  “Yes, you do, but Admiral Haus says otherwise.” Rainier holstered her weapon, grabbed Angela, and hurled her inside the pod. “You believe our mission is suicide. You’re wrong. Our mission is our duty to preserve our birthright. We will not be the generation that loses Earth. We will fight until we win. You, on the other hand, will make your way to the shipping lanes and be discovered by a Chancellor merchant vessel. Explain to them why you ran from the fight and see how they react. You will wish we had shot you.”

  The hatch closed and the pod separated from Horatio. Automated thrusters propelled it clear of the UCF’s flagship.

  Angela struggled to process the sudden finality. She was slow to acknowledge her status: Weightless and on a course beyond her control. She fumbled through the tiny cabin and strapped herself in.

  She knew them all. Ten men and women who believed in her message, though it ran counter to the core tenets of the Chancellory. Ten who followed her through a personal hell since Aeterna, who imagined a new beginning far away and trusted her judgment. Ten who died like lame horses.

  Angela tapped her stream amp and accessed her stack. She found the transferred CVid and threw open a holo.