“So what’s the answer?”
“I will ask again, Mr. Powers. Who stands for the Alliance?”
Who indeed, thought Powers. In the end, there was only one answer he could give. “We do,” he said.
“That is correct. We stand for the Alliance. We, the people.”
“I understand... I suppose I always did. But what can we do? How can we bring these people to justice? How do we bring them down?”
“Drastic times call for drastic measures, Mr. Powers. I’m sure you understand that much. I believe that you yourself said that the sooner the Combine army comes marching up Central Avenue the better.”
“On more than one occasion,” admitted Powers.
“And do you mean it?”
“Yes, I believe I do.”
“And there you have it. The only way to make the war mongers pay for their crimes… is to ensure that the Combine wins the war. The only question is how to go about it.” He looked Powers in the eye and let his words hang in the air.
Before Powers could form an answer, Godoy’s data pad began to buzz. “Ah, excuse me,” he said, fishing the pad from his pocket and glancing at the screen. “I’m afraid that duty calls, but it’s been a most interesting talk, Mr. Powers. I thank you. Perhaps we will meet again. Do enjoy the rest of your evening.” And with that he rose from his chair and was gone.
“What exactly was he asking me to do?” asked Powers once Godoy had left.
“To search your conscience, Dan,” said Brady.
“And have you done the same?”
“Some time ago.”
“And?”
“We’re fighting a war on two fronts and it’s a struggle we can’t hope to win. We’re caught between our own leaders and the Combine Empire. Even if the Alliance wins, we still lose. We’ll still be governed by the same corrupt regime. But if the Combine prevails, we have the chance for a new start – some much needed reform, and maybe even a little justice. I needed to pick a side, Dan, or perhaps more accurately, pick my enemy. I think I made the right choice.”
Powers picked up his glass and gazed at the whisky. In his real life he’d never been much of a drinker, but if he’d ever felt like a drink it was now, and it was very good whisky after all. He raised the glass to his lips, took a sip and then looked Brady in the eye. “How can I help?” he said.
Godoy left the building immediately, pausing only to bid goodnight to a select few who could be relied upon to swear that he had barely spoken to Powers the whole evening. His story about the Combine peace initiative was of course a complete fabrication, though not one of his own making. An identical story would be broadcast on all Combine news outlets during the next twenty four hours. Not for Powers’ benefit; it was all good, hard propaganda designed to keep the Combine citizenry in line and crank up support for the final push that would see the Alliance overrun. In due course, news would filter back across the border, adding to the Combine cause by spreading doubt and mistrust throughout the Alliance. That it would provide Powers with confirmation that Godoy really did have access to sensitive information was just icing on the cake.
Godoy had done his job. Without being implicit, he’d sown the necessary seeds and now Jacob and his men would take it from here. For his part, Godoy would never contact Powers again, and neither would Brady.
Having spoken to the man in person, Godoy shared in Brady’s assessment that Powers was genuine. Among Godoy’s other talents was his ability to judge a man’s character and smell out a lie. He found Powers to be entirely plausible, but the possibility remained that he was a plant. He wouldn’t be the first and he certainly wouldn’t be the last. Godoy was already known to be a sometime Combine sympathizer. It earned him few plaudits and was enough to have him placed on the government watch list, but fortunately – or stupidly, depending on which side of the political fence you sat – the constitution still guaranteed the citizens of the Alliance freedom of expression.
The Combine was far more sensible about such things, of that Godoy was convinced. While there was a fledgling peace movement on the other side of the border, its meetings were carefully orchestrated; views contrary to those of the state were suppressed and offenders severely dealt with. The mere act of consorting with an Alliance sympathizer could cost you a lengthy prison term, and rightly so, for there was a natural order to things – an order that had to be maintained. The people needed leadership – firm, decisive leadership, for no other reason than most human beings felt an innate need to be led whether they realized it or not. There were sheep and there were shepherds and in the new order, Godoy would be one of the latter, leading the sheep to either pastures green or the slaughterhouse, depending on their value. Such were Godoy’s socio-political views and therein lay the roots of his sympathies for the Combine cause.
On a personal level, he’d been careful never to allow his sympathies to carry over into acts of overt treason. He had never knowingly passed over state secrets or even sensitive information. He’d never had to. He just indicated where such intelligence might be found and then let nature take its course. He acted as a broker, a go-between. The fact that he knew people with a vested interest in classified information would be enough to damn him, but with enough support from his allies in the peace movement, he could claim that any accusations were just a conspiracy set up by the intelligence services to discredit both him and his former employer, the Secretary of the Interior. If there was one lesson he’d learned from a lifetime in politics, it was the art of muddying up the water. Do it skillfully enough and you could get away with almost anything.
Chapter 14: Winds of Change
Fleet Intel, Trinity Base
“Good evening, General. It’s good of you to see me at such short notice,” said Brigadier Faulkner.
“Your adjutant said it was important,” said Torrance.
“I think important is an understatement. We have just received some reports which, if true, could change the whole course of the war. As unlikely as it may seem, General, I believe we may have allies – or at least, allies in waiting.”
“From where?” said Torrance in surprise.
“You may recall that a few weeks ago, there were some reports of unusual activity along the Combine/Northern Territories border.”
“Yes, I remember,” said Torrance. “The intelligence briefing suggested some kind of minor engagement adjacent to the border. As I understand it, the reports were at the time unconfirmed.”
“It’s true. They were, but not anymore. It has taken some time for the intelligence to reach us but it seems that three weeks ago, the Combine launched a large scale attack on the Northern Territories colony of Samar.”
“They attacked an NT colony? That’s no minor engagement, Brigadier.”
“No, sir it most definitely is not.”
“Why on earth did the Combine do that?”
“According to our sources, they claim that the colony was providing safe haven for pirates preying on Combine shipping lanes. As you might imagine, the Northern Territories staunchly deny any such allegations.”
“Given the strict position of neutrality that the NT has always imposed on itself, I find it hard to believe that they would openly assist pirates – especially on one of their own worlds. If they wanted to get involved in that kind of thing, they’d do it quietly. There are thousands of isolated rocks where they could establish a base for freelancers or privateers.”
“Agreed,” said Faulkner. “If you want to play at pirates, you do it the way real pirates do. No, I believe that the motivation for the attack is political. As I have said before, support for the Combine war effort is built on expectations – expectations that of late have not been realized. After the occupation of Haalikon, Oneida and Ebron, the consensus among the Combine was that the Alliance was about to crumble.”
“We might have,” said Torrance. “Had the Combine not halted their advance to fortify Haalikon, Oneida and Ebron, it would have been a very close run thing. As it
was, the respite gave us time to begin deploying the Shield, and that has paid dividends. We’ve been given time, and with it a real fighting chance.”
“You think they should have kept right on coming?”
“Maybe. As to why they didn’t, I can only surmise. Perhaps they thought we’d fold. Perhaps they felt the need to build up their forces until they had an overwhelming advantage. My own guess is that they underestimated the effectiveness of the Shield. If true, that’s a misconception that they are now paying for. The Shield has proved more successful than we could have envisaged. To date the Combine has lost in excess of thirty vessels trying to breach our defenses – some of them major units. It is true that we have also lost ships but in the main our crews have lived to fight another day. Most of theirs are now sitting in POW camps.”
“Which is why I believe the Combine turned their attentions elsewhere,” said Faulkner. “I think their government needed a victory. A morale booster. Ironically, much the same thing we were hoping for not so long ago. Probably, they saw the NT as a soft target. They lack the resources of the Combine and with little or no experience in battle, the Combine probably saw an easy victory on the cards.”
“Makes sense,” said Torrance.
“At this point, it is only conjecture. What we do know is that the Combine deployed a sizable attack fleet which overcame Samar’s defenses in a matter of hours. They immediately issued an ultimatum to the NT government, demanding the surrender of four more colonies lying close to Combine space and the demilitarization of all other colonies within twenty light years of the border.”
“What was the NT’s response?”
“They refused, at which point the Combine immediately launched an attack on Samar’s closest neighbor. They were met by a defending NT force and according to reports were firmly repulsed with significant losses. The NT then returned to Samar and retook the colony, again at considerable cost to the invaders.”
“What do we know about the NT’s military capabilities?”
“Not very much. During the first few years of the conflict we maintained close relations with the NT, even keeping up trade until Combine space was completely closed off to us. After that, the NT took up a position of strict neutrality, closing off their borders to both sides. There were rumors that they were pumping considerable resources into their own military in order to protect their neutrality but apart from that we know very little. However, if the engagement reports are true, it seems they have managed to develop some quite sophisticated weaponry.”
“How did we come by this information?” said Torrance.
“One of our agents within the Combine – someone who can be trusted.”
“And Haalikon, Ebron and Oneida?”
“The scans tell their own story. The Combine left quickly and quietly. They also removed their defensive platforms and the only reason I can think of is to use them somewhere else. If I’m not very much mistaken, they are now on the other side of Combine space, protecting one or more of their assets along the NT border.”
“Which means that they feel under threat.”
“Exactly,” said Faulkner.
“Which might also mean they are vulnerable. Have we received any kind of communication from the NT government?”
“Nothing as yet. We need to bear in mind that there has been no official contact with the NT for over twenty years. After two decades of isolationism we’re not even sure what kind of regime we are dealing with. It follows that they may be having the same misgivings about us. General, this is a political decision, but my counsel is that we find some way to contact the NT. I’m not saying we should rush straight into an alliance but we should at least test the water – find out what we’re dealing with and then explore all the possibilities. This kind of chance may never come again.”
“You’re right,” said Torrance, “I don’t think we can stand idly by and simply wait to see how things unfold.”
“Of course, there’s no guarantee the NT will be receptive,” said Faulkner. “Even in war they might decide to continue their policy of isolationism.”
“True, but I guess there’s only one way to find out. Get your hat, Brigadier. I think it’s time we got the First Minister out of bed.”
* * *
Alliance Signals and Cipher HQ
The Alliance Signals and Cipher HQ was located two hundred meters below the surface of Tycho’s moon. Protected by multiple layers of reinforced concrete, super-hard alloys, thermal insulators and shock dissipaters, the bunker had been designed to survive a direct hit by a medium sized anti-matter warhead. It so happened that the maker’s claims had never been put to the test as neither side had resorted to using weapons of mass destruction – at least on a planetary target. A noble ideal but it struck the duty officer – one Commander Topley – that one or two judiciously targeted warheads at the beginning of hostilities might well have brought the war to a speedy conclusion decades ago, thus sparing untold suffering in the years to follow. Of course, spending a great deal of time in a bomb-proof facility, his philosophy was somewhat stilted.
Secure as the facility was, the downside to living and working underground was that was it was a cramped, claustrophobic existence. It was worse than being in space; at least up there you could find yourself a porthole with a view of the stars at the end of your shift. Topley was down here for weeks at a time, eating sleeping and working in the labyrinth of tunnels. The only time he made it up to the surface was to catch the shuttle back to Tycho at the end of his six week rotation.
Topley’s primary function was signals intelligence – commonly known as Sig-Int, the interception and analysis of enemy communications. The signals were encoded but that was where his department came into its own. One floor down was the very latest state of the art super-computer whose sole purpose in life was to assault the Combine ciphers with a whole regiment of multi layered quantum processors. It was the pride of signals intelligence but however many numbers it crunched, it never seemed to be enough.
As far as Topley was concerned, the real heroes resided one floor below that. It was a room full of intellectuals – academicians and mathematicians who spent their days sifting through thousands of Combine signals looking for patterns in the raw data, something which might give some clue as to the enemy’s intentions; a prefix that might refer to a particular base or type of ship, a line that could be traced back to a particular source, or even or a recurring block of code that matched a similarly recurring Combine activity. It took a special kind of person, one with an exquisite eye for detail, an extraordinary memory and an almost unnatural prowess for lateral thinking. Watching them at work, Topley suspected that it might also be an advantage if you were slightly mad to begin with.
He held in his hand a recently intercepted signal which had begun its journey somewhere deep within Combine space. The message itself was an endless series of capital letters arranged in four, five and six letter blocks. He could have transferred the message to a data chip but knew the woman he was now searching for would appreciate the paper copy much more.
Mrs. Greenbow – only the bravest dared call her by her first name – was a spritely seventy year old with razor sharp features and a manner as fearsome as her countenance. When Topley arrived at her desk, she eyed him suspiciously from over the top of her spectacles, at the same time chewing deliberately on the end of a pencil.
“I have something for you,” he said.
“Oh, a gift?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Concert tickets, perhaps?”
“Not exactly.”
“Good – I can’t say I’m much of a music lover. I’m not one for chocolates either. Bourbon, on the other hand, I can use.”
Topley shook his head.
“Gin would also be acceptable.”
“I’m afraid not. It’s a signal we’ve just intercepted. It’s somewhat unusual – no-one upstairs knows what to make of it.”
“Hardly a surprise. And
after trying everywhere else you’ve finally come to me.”
“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” said Topley.
“Then how would you put it, young man?”
Topley wisely remained silent.
“A last resort,” she said in mock despair, studying the teeth-marks in her pencil. “I have to say I find that rather rude.”
“I suppose I could take it somewhere else if you’re busy.”
“No, no… hand it over,” she said condescendingly. Accepting the roll of paper from Topley, she pinned it to the wall by the side of her desk. Gravity took over and the paper unrolled itself as it descended to the floor. Mrs. Greenbow slid back in her chair and extended a foot to hold the bottom of the roll against the wall. She pursed her lips and held the pencil between her top lip and her nose, occasionally letting it fall to a waiting hand before placing it back again. “Where did this come from?” she said.
“Not sure as yet. Somewhere deep in Combine space. We’re still waiting for the triangulation data to come in.”
“Hmm, you might want to check on that,” said Mrs. Greenbow, “I don’t think this is a Combine cipher. It’s altogether the wrong flavor.”
A more inquisitive person might have asked Mrs. Greenbow to clarify exactly what she meant by the wrong ‘flavor’. Topley restricted himself to nodding sagely. “I see. Any idea what it is?”
“I might have – yes.” she said coyly.
“And?”
“I’m going to have a poke around in the archives. Come back this afternoon.” She ripped half a meter of paper from the bottom of the roll, gave Topley a strangely sympathetic smile and sauntered off towards the exit.
Topley looked at his watch – it was six thirty in the evening. He nodded sagely once again.
Chapter 15: Allies
Tycho City
“Do we make contact?” asked Jacob’s deputy, the impatience showing in his voice.
“A good question, Goss,” said Jacob. “And one that begs another. Can we really afford not to?”
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