by D. J. Holmes
“You cannot do this to us!” the second Chancellor snapped. “Not after everything our species has been through. When they return, the Karacknids will have no use for us, they will exterminate us.”
“They may,” Becket admitted. It was the one part of her mission that she had struggled with over the past several months. She had seen first-hand how willing the Karacknids were to nuke alien worlds from space. “It is not your fault that we are doing this to you. We’ve already defeated one Karacknid fleet guarding the border here. It is their fault that my ships have been able to penetrate this far into their empire. They may simply count the destruction here as the cost of their failure. In any case, as much sympathy as I have with your species’ plight, my species and our allies are in a war of survival. We cannot leave your system’s economy intact. Not when it is geared towards feeding the Karacknid war machine.”
“Then you’re no better than them,” the second Chancellor responded, venom that even Becket could recognize filling his voice.
“Perhaps,” Becket said slowly as she repeated the same argument she had used to convince herself. “But your species has served the Karacknids for forty years. Whether willingly or at gunpoint, you have served them. Given what they did to your species, your people know full well what the minerals and other commodities you have produced for them are used for. Whether in a large or small part, your species has played a role in aiding the Karacknids to conquer other worlds, in helping them kill hundreds of millions of my own species. I will not kill your people in revenge. But I will prevent your species from further contributing to their economy.” Before either Chancellor could speak again, Becket raised a hand. “This was a courtesy call. Hopefully one day when we have defeated the Karacknids your people will be free. If that day comes, I promise you my people will aid you as best we can. But that day is not now. You have received my warning. One hour from now we will destroy everything. Evacuate your people. If you do not, their deaths will be on your conscience, not mine.” Glancing over to Lieutenant Rondon, Becket nodded for the COM officer to cut the COM channel. Then she looked to her Flag Captain and raised an eyebrow.
“It was harsh,” Rogers responded, “but fair. At least they can have no doubt as to where they stand. If we ever liberate their system some proper diplomats can smooth over the feathers you have ruffled.”
“They will need to be good diplomats,” Becket replied, not happy about what she had had to do. Standard Karacknid operating procedure was to reduce the technological base of the species they conquered and force each species to specialize in producing one kind of material that the Karacknid economy needed. It kept the conquered species from ever having the ability to produce their own ships or anything else that would allow them to rise up and challenge the Karacknids. Unintentionally, Becket was sure, it also made attacking their space all the harder. At least for species with a conscience. If her campaign was going to be successful, she would have to cripple the economies of tens of systems. Systems inhabited by species the Karacknids had enslaved. She would have to repeat the conversation she had just had over and over again. That was why she had been so short with the two Chancellors. If she started taking a few hours to speak to species’ leaders in every system they attacked, the delay could see her fleet attacked as Karacknid reinforcements closed in. Each raid had to be short and decisive.
“They will,” Rogers agreed. “But in the long run, it’s what we need to do. We all understand it, even if it isn’t pleasant. Especially for you as you are the one that has to deal with them.”
“The pleasures of being an Admiral,” Becket responded, not wanting to be drawn into discussing her feelings in front of the bridge officers. “You’ll find out soon enough I’m sure,” she added as she winked at Rogers. She turned to her tactical officer. “Have the targets all been assigned?”
“Yes Admiral,” Salaman answered. “Viper is ready to take out the two Karacknid stations with a single salvo. Then elements of the Gramrian and Poideal fleet will move in and destroy the rest of the stations with their heavy laser cannons. Admiral Shraw requested their ships be able to make the attack.”
“Very well,” Becket responded. “Open fire on the Karacknid station now. Inform Shraw he can make his attack when the time comes. His ships could do with the target practice I imagine.”
“Admiral Shraw and Faroul have also opened a COM channel with the Chancellors,” Lieutenant Rondon informed Becket.
“Acknowledged,” Becket responded. “Galactically speaking, the Conclave species and the Karnlians are neighbors. They may as well try and smooth whatever feathers they can.”
Twelve missiles shot out from Viper. They raced across the distance to the two Karacknid orbital stations. A pitiful amount of point defense fire tried to take them out but the missiles dodged everything fired at them. In two blinding flashes both stations were destroyed. Becket nodded to Viper’s tactical officer and settled into her command chair. As the hour Becket had given the Karnlians to evacuate their stations counted down, Becket remained on the bridge and watched. With surprising efficiency hundreds of shuttles had taken off from the planet’s surface and the orbital stations and ferried people to the surface. Initially Becket was suspicious that some war materials were being ferried down to the planet surface. However, a scan of several of the shuttles didn’t show anything untoward. Just before the hour came, the five Karacknid ships that had fled the planet got to within five light minutes of the shift passage they were heading towards. That was as far as they made it. Maleck’s squadron of forty warships pounced and destroyed them with a single salvo.
“The hour is up. Admiral Shraw has requested permission to open fire,” Lieutenant Salaman said.
“Proceed,” Becket answered.
Shraw’s ships moved in. In the space of five minutes every orbital station was blown apart. Becket was glad Shraw made sure there were no large pieces of debris left intact to burn through Karnlian’s atmosphere. The last thing they needed was to have the Karnlians blaming them for a chunk of one of their own space stations wiping out a town or village. “Take us out of orbit,” Becket ordered as soon as the destruction was complete. “Set course to rendezvous with Maleck’s fleet. Our work here is done.”
*
IS Viper, unnamed system, 26th October 2483 AD (three days later).
“Target locked Admiral,” Lieutenant Salaman reported.
Becket took a moment to stare at the small station. They had almost missed it. But for an errant leak of electromagnetic energy, her fleet would have passed through the largely empty system and been on their way. When several ships had detected the emission, Becket had suspected a Karacknid squadron in stealth or some other more menacing surprise. Instead they discovered a small station that simply floated in the middle of space not near any planetary body. The station lay directly between two of the three shift passages that led into the system. Presumably, it was some kind of fuel depot used by freighters to top up their tanks. Despite her fleet revealing itself more than ten minutes ago, there hadn’t been a message from the station. Given that the station had no weapons she had half expected the Karacknids to surrender. But it seemed they had no interest in any such thing. Very well, she thought. No quarter offered and none requested. “Fire,” she ordered.
Six green plasma bolts shot out from Viper’s heavy plasma cannons. In the time it would have taken Becket to blink, the station was blown apart. “Return us to our original course,” Becket ordered. “And get me the senior fleet commanders on a COM channel.”
A couple of minutes later, after making sure her fleet was in formation and on the right heading, Becket looked back to her COM officer. Lieutenant Rondon simply nodded. Reaching over to her command chair’s holo projector she switched it on. The faces of her senior Admirals greeted her. “The time has come,” Becket said. “With luck, the main Karacknid forces in the Valley still don’t know that we are here. Splitting up will allow us to strike more systems in quick succession. Even if
some Karacknid ships have spotted us, splitting up now will sow confusion as they try to organize a response. I believe we should continue with plan alpha one. I’ve seen nothing to suggest that our primary plan should be altered at this stage. What are your thoughts?”
“We have done well so far,” Shraw said. “I’m sure that will not continue, but whilst the enemy opposition is still light, we should hit as many of our targets as possible.”
“Agreed,” Maleck said. “We should make hay while the sun still shines,” he added.
Becket didn’t miss the sparkle in his eyes as she rolled her own. The Varanni Alliance species in general and the Crian in particular seemed to delight in learning Human proverbs. As far as she could tell, they didn’t have many of their own and they enjoyed using Human ones. Not wanting to encourage him, she moved on to Admiral Faroul. “Admiral?” she asked as she nodded to the Poideal commander.
“This is why we are here,” Faroul answered. “The risks will increase greatly, but we are prepared for that.”
“Then it is agreed,” Becket said as she brought her hands together. “We will split up and continue our attacks. Remember, we must keep each other fully informed of our movements. If we need to we must be able to support one another at once.”
“Do not worry my friend,” Shraw said as his tongue flicked in and out of his mouth. “We understand what you want from us.”
“Then there’s nothing left to say but good luck to us all,” Becket said as she glanced from commander to commander. When they had returned her well-wishes with their own she ended the COM channel. Now the real fun begins, Becket thought. The real fun and the real challenge.
Chapter 11
There have always been separatists and terrorists within the Empire. Often the line between them is blurred at best and gone in the worst cases. The challenge for our Emperors and Empresses has been to tackle such threats without stripping Imperial citizens of their rights and freedoms. With our modern technology, the temptation to monitor and control every second of citizens’ lives is very real. Humanity’s history is full of states who have made just such mistakes. Unless studied however, such history will not serve as a warning.
-Excerpt from Empire Rising, 3002 AD.
Avignon, 19th November 2483 AD.
As soon as his shuttle touched down outside the city General Johnston jumped out and moved to the hovercar. “Where are we going?” he asked the IID agent who was driving.
“Rue Laboureur,” the IID Agent answered as she powered up the hovercar and headed away from the shuttle landing pads. “It’s a small street in the inner city. You’ll have to walk the last few hundred meters or so, the street is too narrow for a vehicle.”
“Not a problem,” Johnston replied. “What do we know so far?” Johnston had been on his way to the Moon to meet with several marine Generals when Admiral Russell, the head of IID, had called and diverted his shuttle to Avignon.
“I’m not fully in the loop General. All I know is that we have discovered an apartment believed to be connected to the attack on the Empress. The agents there will be able to fill you in when we get there.”
“Ok, thank you,” Johnston replied. His heart was already racing. For the past three days he had been jumping from one thing to another trying to distract himself. He had made James a promise he intended to keep yet the investigation had been hitting dead end after dead end. At last, something was finally happening.
For the rest of the journey he went over everything they knew about the attacker François Sault. Sadly, it didn’t amount to much. With luck, that’s about to change, Johnston thought as the hovercar came to a halt. The investigation didn’t have many more leads so whatever breakthrough the IID had made it had to do with Sault.
“Right this way,” another IID Agent called as Johnston stepped out of the hovercar. “I’m Agent Hernandez, my partner is at the apartment now.”
“The apartment?” Johnston queried as he joined Hernandez and walked through the small winding street.
“Yes, our back dated surveillance on Sault put him in this street twice over the last month. Both times he went out of his way to come to Avignon. Neither of his overt reasons for visiting the city had anything to do with Rue Laboureur. We’ve been looking into the street for the last three hours. We think we’ve found where he was going.”
“How sure are we?”
“Technicians are carrying out a full spectral analysis of the apartment now. It’s just a one bed open plan apartment. We should have the results, including any DNA findings, in ten minutes or so,” Hernandez answered.
Within minutes Johnston walked most of the length of the small street and followed Hernandez into an apartment building that had to be at least five hundred years old. Right at the back he found another agent waiting for him beside a large oak door.
“Agent Swenson,” the man said as he held out a hand. “Russell asked me to supervise this personally.”
“How do you know this is where he was coming?” Johnston asked as Swenson opened the door and gestured for him to enter. The apartment was empty. The open plan living room had no seats and there weren’t any appliances in the kitchen. All the cabinet doors were open showing nothing inside.
“The bedroom is the same,” Swenson said. “All empty. The apartment has no windows or any other way in or out. The perfect safehouse for the kind of operatives we think planned the attack on the Empress. We don’t know this was the place for sure, but it’s a safe bet. I have other agents canvasing the street just in case another candidate shows up, but we think this is it. The apartment was listed for rent for nearly a year up until nine months ago. Then it appears the owner gave up. As far as we can tell, it has been vacant ever since. The neighbors have no recollection of anyone being to it for over a year and a half. It’s not even in our records. If it wasn’t for the holo cameras catching Sault coming into the street, nothing would have alerted us to the apartment’s existence.”
“The perfect safehouse,” Johnston said as he stepped into the bedroom to see it was indeed empty. “And he was here just twice,” Johnston repeated.
“Yes, unless he had some mistress who has a distaste for beds, this is likely where he met his contact,” Swenson suggested.
“You’re checking the holo cameras of the street for whoever he came to meet?”
“At this very moment. Though I’m not expecting to find anyone. Any agent with decent field craft would know to avoid the cameras in the street. I have agents looking at the visual recordings from the surrounding three blocks. Anyone that has even a hint of suspicion around them will be brought in for questioning.”
“Good,” Johnston said as he nodded. “The spectral analysis?”
“The techs are in the next room, five minutes or so and they’ll have preliminary results,” Swenson informed him.
Johnston took another minute or so to look around. He knew Swenson’s techs and their drones would have swept every inch of the apartment, but he needed to make sure there wasn’t something they weren’t seeing. “Ok,” he said when he was satisfied. “Send some of those visuals over to my datapad and I’ll look at them while we wait. May as well make myself useful.”
“Yes General,” Swenson replied. “There are a couple of sofas in the next apartment we have commandeered that you can use.”
“Alright,” Johnston agreed. He preferred to stand, he spent too much time sitting as it was, but he didn’t want to argue with the agent. Slumping into a seat, he pulled out his datapad and flicked through images that the sifting software had flagged as suspicious. Most were images or short recordings of men or women who had their faces partially covered, making it harder to get a facial scan. Within seconds Johnston was able to flick through each, dismissing them as an effect of the clothes they were wearing. As he flicked through to another image, Swenson pulled his attention away.
“They have the preliminary results General,” the agent called as he stepped into the apartment’s main living room.
Another man in white overalls was following him. “This is Agent Davis from our analysis division.”
“What have you found?” Johnston asked as he stood.
“Sault was definitely here,” Davis answered as he held up his datapad. Whatever it was showing, Johnston didn’t understand it. “We have detected trace elements of his DNA. There are two other sources, neither of which we can identify as yet. Both are female.”