He shrugs. “Until he returns, I am in command.”
44
LYSANDER
Grapes and Iron
KALYKE IS ABOUT THE size of a small coin in the holoDisplays that surround the command triangle. Behind it, Jupiter looms. Its myriad moons twinkle, many still distant. Io, our eventual destination, where we will smash Fá, is four days’ ghost sailing away. It is on the far side of the Gas Giant for now.
Diomedes smiles when the Blue pilot, a girl of maybe twelve, murmurs: “Dominus, we are receiving a hail from Consul Lux. Passing to coms. Shroud requested.”
The bridge crew hum like happy bees at the news and at the first sighting of enemy debris. It makes me wish I was aboard the Lightbringer. My fleet is now four weeks behind the Rim’s. Disappointing. I spoke to Cicero and Pytha yesterday. Their crossing of the Gulf that yawns between the Belt and the moons of Jupiter is taking longer than expected due to fluctuations in the reactor. I fear the Lightbringer won’t contribute to the conflict at all.
As the shroud enfolds the command triangle in a wall of darkness, a hologram glows. Helios’s hawkish face peers out at us from the bridge of his torchShip.
“All’s foul on the wine dark,” Helios says.
“But there’s joy on the wind if you turn east.” Diomedes then gives a sixteen-digit code. Helios replies with a code of his own. Identities confirmed, both relax. Helios has a fresh flash burn on his face the shape of a hand and heavy circles under his eyes. His skin hangs loose. He is exhausted from days behind enemy territory.
“Young dragon, you must be jealous. First blood’s to me.” Helios grins from behind his clasped mustache. “You missed quite a hunt, lad. How’s my dusty lady?”
“Still in one piece, Consul. Eager to have you back in the Cestus,” Diomedes replies.
Helios’s eyes narrow. “Why is Lune on my bridge?”
“I thought it sent the right message, Consul,” Diomedes answers.
Helios pauses as if about to order me off, then reconsiders with a grunt. “Perhaps you’re right. We may yet need his aid purging these vermin. They’ve infested dozens of moons with outposts. Few serious battalions, but enough to keep the locals miserable and complicate matters further.”
“My Praetorians and I are eager for the fight, Consul Lux,” I say.
Dido’s hologram appears from her bridge aboard her flagship, Dragon Song. “Helios, we were worried you’d taken your isolationism a step too far,” she says without a greeting. “You went dark for longer than planned.”
“Intelligence reports underestimated the enemy strength. They are well-equipped. Ascomanni craft in numbers I’ve never seen. The Volk are the real danger, though. They’ve got Republic codebreaking technology, heavy patrol craft to go with their dreadnaughts. And those dreadnaughts are frontline material.”
“Where are the rest of your hunting squadron? I only see three torchShips with you.”
“Keeping an eye on Fá’s main fleet. The four Volk dreadnaughts are always with the Pandora. They’re his wrecking ball. I want eyes on them at all times.”
“What of Sungrave?” Dido asks, no doubt thinking of her three children she left behind in the Raa mountain city.
“Sungrave is besieged, as suspected. But it holds, as does the Garter. Vela is in command. But let’s not keep your children waiting any longer than we have to, Dido. Diomedes, begin the contraction to fit the fleet into Kalyke’s shadow. I’ll be taking the Dustmaker back under my command for the ghost sail, so have your phalanx prepare for transfer. I want them on your destroyer for the battle at Io. Tip of our spear.”
Diomedes is happy to hear it. Helios au Lux signs off and a little weight slides off Diomedes’s shoulders. He caresses Binds of Zeus and sighs. He had the Dustmaker and he didn’t slag it up. That’s all one can do when you’re not Helios au Lux. He catches me staring at him, but offers me a rare smile. This is it.
Still some thirty minutes out from Kalyke, Dido’s Dragon Song orders the Armada to contract alongside the Dust Armada. The dreadnaught’s belly slides overtop the larger Dustmaker until barely a kilometer separates the ships of the two consuls. As we slow on our approach to Kalyke, Helios’s torchShip and its escorts merge with the combined fleet. His shuttle lands in the hangar bay and he rides the gravLift up the protected shaft to the bridge.
Helios enters through a rhomboid executive door opposite the bank of escape pods. The metal slab seals behind Helios and his bodyguards with a clunk. I’m the only one on the bridge who doesn’t salute when Helios limps in with two Golds and four Grays in battered orange and gray Phoenix Phalanx armor.
Helios is hunched from what must be a torso wound. His white Olympic cape is as filthy as his pulseArmor. He carries several heavily decorated axes and spears. Diomedes holds his salute until Helios returns it on the command deck and tosses the captured weapons down with a clatter.
The master of the ship has returned, and he’s brought trophies.
“For the battle shrines,” Helios growls to Diomedes with a toothy smile. Helios’s bald head is filled with new angry, red notches. He spares me a cursory nod. The man may be exhausted and obviously wounded—he walks with a very heavy limp in addition to his hunch—but his energy still crackles. His Golds and Grays cluster together down below. I recognize the two Golds from his old guard. War seems to have made them younger, sprier.
Of special interest are the Ascomanni spears. They are long instruments with hafts of sleek black metal etched with runes. Their black heads are nearly as long as my calf and made of a different, shinier metal. “You look frightened, Lune. First blackspår you’ve seen?”
I nod. “Is that metal oxinium?”
“Found only in the Kuiper. Almost a match for polyenne fiber if mixed with carbon. Will slide right through a pulseShield or a hull. Let’s get on with it, Diomedes.”
Diomedes motions up Zagria, the huge bridge kidemónas. With the heavily armed woman and three veteran Dustwalkers behind her supervising the transfer of power, Diomedes faces his mentor. “Consul Lux, I relinquish imperium of the Dustmaker. Do you accept her Binds?”
“I do, Storm Knight. Thank you for your steady hand.”
Diomedes pulls the Cestus off his hand and gives a code to a Green in the pit. Helios gives a code as well and the Green formally transfers the ship master controls to Helios. A Blue announces the transfer has been logged in the central chain.
Under the guard of the two Gold officers, Helios removes his gauntlet and vambrace to don the Cestus. His callused hand seems eager. Understandable. It’s been his command for what, forty years? I’d be eager to leave the fragility of a torchShip and once again become the biggest bastard in the Sea of Ilium too. I miss the Lightbringer more than I thought I would.
I stand up from inspecting the spears. As I do, I see something strange. Helios’s famous hasta, Sunburn, is on his right hip. But on his left is a kitari with an iron pommel imprinted with the grapes of House Dionysus. I frown. That’s odd.
Helios’s hand slips into the Cestus in a strange way—timidly, then all at once. Like a frightened man jumping off a waterfall. Nothing happens for a moment. Helios’s eyes burn into the deck. Inside the Cestus, needles will be sampling his blood and bone marrow. Homer’s words glow on the bands of the Cestus to signify it has unlocked. Helios murmurs them. “I too shall lie in the dust when I am dead, but now let me win noble renown.” Helios looks up at Diomedes. “It is good to come home.”