Dunham was nodding.
“That is an excellent suggestion, Mr. Stauss. I will have the military burials and memorials group get in touch with you.”
“Thank you, Sire. In that case, we are agreed.”
“Very well, Mr. Stauss. And Mr. Stauss?”
Stauss looked the Emperor in the eye.
“Do not disappoint me on this.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“That is all, Mr. Stauss.”
With that the Emperor cut the VR connection, and Stauss was back in his office on Hesse. He had no intention whatsoever of disappointing the Emperor.
Those extraordinary white-blue eyes could be remarkably cold.
The salvage license came through within hours. Exclusive license to salvage both the Phalian and Rim Alliance mustering points, together with a requirement to cremate and inter ‘with proper military honors and ceremony’ the remains of all those found. Remarkably, it was digitally signed by the Emperor himself.
Otto Stauss put in a VR call to Gunther Kaube, the Sector Vice President of the Imperial Bank for Baden Sector. They met in a VR simulation of a bank conference room.
“Yes, Mr. Stauss. How may I help you today? Something come up in your freighter leasing operations?”
“No, Mr. Kaube. I have a new proposal for you, for a new company I am forming. Stauss Battlefield Services. We will be performing salvage operations on the Alliance mustering points in Phalia and the Rim.”
“Salvage operations are notoriously risky, Mr. Stauss, and are seldom profitable. I’m not sure the bank would be able to assist in this new venture.”
“That is the conventional wisdom, Mr. Kaube. However, each of these sites contains over ten billion tons of refined metals within a small volume of space. Have you been watching the prices on metals as the economy continues to accelerate? The extraction industries are having a tough time keeping up. This is a great time to have twenty billion tons of reclaimed refined metals come available.”
“You need a salvage license, Mr. Stauss.”
“I just received a salvage license from the Imperial department of commercial space operations, Mr. Kaube. Here, let me send you a copy.”
Stauss pushed the document to Kaube over the VR connection, his avatar sliding a copy over the table to Kaube’s avatar. He watched Kaube scan through it.
“Mr. Stauss, this salvage license on these sites is exclusive to Stauss Battlefield Services.”
“Yes, Mr. Kaube. It would be much riskier an operation financially if multiple salvage operations were permitted on the same sites.”
“There is also the matter of proper burial of all the human remains found on the sites, potentially amounting to one billion bodies. That’s a lot of bodies, Mr. Stauss.”
As Kaube continued to scan the document, he came to the last page of the salvage license. He looked up at Stauss in shock.
“Mr. Stauss, this salvage license is signed by the Emperor himself.”
“Yes, Mr. Kaube, it is. With regard to the burial issue, I personally spoke with the Emperor this morning about it, and he has committed the assistance of the Imperial military burial and monuments group to assist us in assuring the heroic dead are honorably interred. It seems to be something of a priority for him.”
Kaube looked at him with dazed eyes.
“I’m sure the bank would be interested in financing this new venture of yours, Mr. Stauss. How much initial financing did you require?”
“Something on the order of five trillion credits should do it, Mr. Kaube.”
“And your collateral?”
“That salvage license is my collateral, Mr. Kaube. That should be all the collateral you need.”
“Yes. Yes, there is that.”
Kaube looked down at the last page of the salvage license again, then back up at Stauss.
“Once this operation is completed, Mr. Stauss, what will you do with all the heavy equipment? The grinders, the space stations, the tugs?”
“Mr. Kaube, you don’t really believe the Emperor has completed his annexations, do you? There are seven other Alliance mustering points. If I meet His Majesty’s requirements on the burial issues, I believe I have the inside track in securing exclusive salvage licenses to those as well. As the sites become available, of course.”
“Ah, yes. Of course. Very well, Mr. Stauss. Knowing you, I assume you have the loan application prepared for me?”
“Of course, Mr. Kaube.”
Stauss slid the loan application across the table to Kaube.
“Very well, Mr. Stauss. I shall be in further contact with you when I hear back from Imperial Bank headquarters on Sintar.”
“I look forward to hearing from you, Mr. Kaube.”
“Our loan for the battlefield processing has been approved,” Otto Stauss told his son.
“Already? That was fast,” Dieter Stauss said.
“Never underestimate the value of the Emperor’s signature on an attachment to your loan application.”
“I guess so. Well, I’ve been working those research projects you gave me. There are, in fact, several salvage operators in the Empire who have been quietly floating their availability for acquisition. Most seem to be more of a mom-and-pop kind of business, rather than a division of a larger corporation. Their owners are getting to the age they are thinking about retirement and want to cash out. I’ve looked at their equipment rosters and their operating numbers, and I think there are half a dozen or so it would make sense to pick up right off.”
“Excellent. That would give us a core of experienced people to leverage off of, as well. And the equipment research?”
“There aren’t many people who make really big salvage equipment. There are three who make the sort of thing we want. They are all expensive as hell, but I think I can leverage them one against the other. We’re likely going to be buying about everything they can make for the next couple years from all three, but none of them know that.”
“Also excellent. And the space stations?”
“Those are easier, believe it or not. There’re a lot more space stations out there than there are salvage grinders. There are some coming available as new space stations are being prepared. We can pick up serviceable used ones for a quarter of what it would cost to buy new. Same thing with the passenger liners for transporting crews out to the sites and giving them home leave. Normal industry practice is six months on, six months off, and twelve-hour days seven days a week while on-site. That makes for a two-thousand-hour year, same as a forty-hour-a-week employee year-round. That also works into a nice schedule for a small fleet of passenger liners shifting crews out for leave if you set up the rotations properly.”
“Very good. Very good. Excellent work.”
Stauss stared down at his desk while he looked through his notes in VR. He looked back up at the younger Stauss.
“And the cremation machinery?”
“That’s being designed for us. It turns out there are no large-scale space-based crematoria available. We have an engineering firm lined up to design them, and the Imperial military burials and monuments group is ready to work with them on a design that meets the Emperor’s requirements.”
“We’re going to start finding bodies right away. Are we set up to store them in an acceptable way until the crematoria are available?”
“We’re working on it. I don’t see any insurmountable problems there.”
The elder Stauss nodded.
“Well, I guess there’s no time like the present. Let’s get things under way. That five trillion credits isn’t working for us just sitting there.”
The huge commercial towship was latched up to the even more immense grinder-separator-compactor machine.
A machine – more like a factory or processing plant – that could chew up a large chunk of an asteroid or the shattered hulk of a battleship was necessarily large. It included all the grapples for its input as well as all the container-handling machinery for its output. An empty
container inbound queue, multiple full container outbound queues, and the machinery required to shuffle twelve-foot-square by eighty-foot-long containers around like children’s blocks were just a part of its size and complexity. The power plant required to run it all would power a decent-sized town. All in one assembly.
And of course when there were assemblies that large to be moved, there were commercial towships large enough to move them. They were called towships even though they shoved their load, called a tow, rather than pulled it. The large engines of the towship had to be at the back, so their wash would not damage the tow. Most salvage companies inventoried at least one of the vessels to avoid the high la carte charges for hiring one.
The towship accelerated slowly at first, shoving the grinder-separator-compactor while the crew monitored the stresses on the engines and the latches to the tow. They gradually increased their acceleration until they were at the 0.4g required to maintain hyperspace flight.
The towship projected a hyperspace gate behind itself. When the gate was stable, the towship drew the gate over itself and its tow, and they disappeared into hyperspace.
Dominoes
The twenty former independent star nations now fell into three large groups. Pannia, Estvia, Phalia, the Rim, and Garland had been annexed into Sintar in friendly annexations. With the notable exception of Garland, their former rulers remained in leadership positions within the Sintaran Empire.
Annalia and Berinia had been forcibly occupied by the navy of the Democracy of Planets. Their leadership had been wiped out in Sintar’s destruction of their capitals and military headquarters, and, with the DP navy moving into their territory, no one was in a hurry to step up into a central leadership role.
The other thirteen, while still independent, were in various stages of anxiety, ranging from nervous to outright panic.
The four republics in human space – Abelard, Bordain, Doria, and Westhaven – were all smaller independents, ranging from six thousand to thirteen thousand planets, with populations between nine trillion and fifteen trillion people. All of them were on the farside of Sintar, and were less nervous about forcible occupation by the Democracy of Planets. Opposition candidates for president, though, were openly running on the platform of requesting annexation to Sintar.
Jasmine, Midlothia, Sirdon, and Wingard were also on the farside of Sintar, and were the least worried. With the exception of Wingard, they were all small, around six thousand planets each, with populations ranging from five trillion to nine trillion people. Wingard was larger, with fourteen thousand planets and twenty trillion people. All indications were Sintar would leave them alone if that’s what they wanted, and the DP was unlikely to forcible occupy them because, with the annexations of Phalia, the Rim, and Garland, they were nestled in and between Sintaran territory.
The Earthside independents, though, were terrified. Cascade, Celestia, Nederling, Preston and Terre Autre were the remaining independents lying between the two expanding giants, and it looked like it was choose now or have no choice whatsoever. They ranged from four thousand to sixteen thousand planets, but, having been settled earlier, they had larger per-planet populations. Their total populations ranged from eight trillion to forty trillion people each, but none of them was anywhere near large enough to hold against the navy of the Democracy of Planets if it came to that.
The entire astro-political situation hung there, in an uneasy and teetering equilibrium, for months.
Then the dominoes began to fall.
Dunham and Admiral Leicester appeared in VR channel R-1327, the restricted location of the hyperspace map, without any prior warning. Admiral Conroy was there, and saluted.
“Just looking at the map, Admiral. We’ll let you know if we need anything.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Conroy withdrew, and Dunham waved a hand at the overall map.
“Now that Pannia, Estvia, Annalia and the Rim are tinted green as part of Sintar, and Annalia and Berinia are tinted orange as part of the Democracy of Planets, what stands out to you, Admiral Leicester?” Dunham asked.
The orange of the DP and the green of Sintar, long separated by a string of independent star nations lying between them, now contacted each other along almost half of the space between them. There remained a string of independents along the galactic south.
“That these five are in an unenviable position, Sire.”
“Indeed, Admiral Leicester. Cascade, Nederling, and the others are caught on the dance floor between two elephants and the music is starting to play.”
Leicester chuckled.
“What do you expect to happen, Sire.”
“If we don’t annex them, the DP will. But I will not annex independent star nations without being asked. That said, you should be prepared to move your frontier forces forward quickly if those requests come.”
“I see, Sire.”
Leicester considered the map in that context.
“That border is probably easier to defend, actually, Sire. The surface area against the DP is reduced, and the interior lines are shorter.”
“My thoughts as well, Admiral Leicester.”
“We’ll be prepared and in position, Sire.”
“Excellent, Admiral Leicester.”
“Well, at least we’re out of the terrible twos,” Peters said as they watched Sean and Dee arguing over something or other.
By their tone, at least, the kids were arguing. They were communicating in their own private language, so neither Dunham nor Peters had any idea of what the dispute was about. They had turned three the previous week, and continued to grow apace. Both would be tall, leaning in that matter to Dunham’s side of their genetic inheritance, but both had Peters’s dark hair and brown eyes.
“As long as they don’t sink to blows, arguing is fine,” Dunham said. “Being good at it is a life skill.”
Peters snorted.
“Then I think they’re going for black-belt, grand-champion titles in the sport.”
Dunham chuckled.
“Yeah, they sure seem to enjoy sparring.”
As quickly as it had flared up, the argument seemed to be over, and the twins went back to their play in the sandbox that had been installed next to the pool deck. The proximity to the pool meant their parents and their childcare staff didn’t have to run around so much to keep an eye on them.
“That was over quick,” Dunham said.
“Yes, which reminds me. I’ve been bogged down in details the last week. What’s going on in the big picture? It’s been awfully quiet lately.”
“The DP’s surge into Annalia and Berinia now looks like more of a permanent takeover than a temporary occupation. No one in either kingdom wants to step up into a leadership role and make the DP move against them.”
“So they turned the power vacuum into a takeover.”
“Looks like.”
“Bastards. Where does that leave the remaining Earthside independents? DP took Annalia and Berinia, we got Estvia and Pannia. But there’s five more, right? Like Cascade.”
“Cascade, Terre Autre, Preston, Nederling, and Celestia. They’re all nervous as pregnant cats. They don’t know what the DP is going to do next, and they aren’t sure whether annexing to Sintar would make it better or worse.”
“How could it be worse?”
“If the DP took offense, somehow, and decided to preempt the annexation by force. There hasn’t been a shot fired in Annalia and Berinia.”
“Ah. So what do you think they’re going to do, Bobby?”
“No clue, Amanda.”
“What would you do if those five asked to be annexed to Sintar? Would you agree?”
“Probably. I’ve been thinking about it, and I’ve told Admiral Leicester to be prepared for it. This is shaping up into a Sintar-DP struggle. I don’t want it to go there, but I think it will.”
“Why?”
“Why don’t I want it?”
“No. That I get. Why do you think it will be a Sintar-DP
struggle?”
“However things work out with the Earthside, the farside nations are going to align with Sintar. They’re pretty relaxed about the situation, because the DP is so far away, but they think Sintar would kick the DP out of the farside if they tried anything over there.”
“Would you?”
“Oh, yes. And everybody knows or suspects it. Including the DP. You see, if all the remaining Earthside nations go to the DP, Sintar will end up with almost twice as many planets and over two-thirds of the population of the DP. If all the remaining Earthside nations go to Sintar, Sintar will have over three times as many planets and more population than the DP. Either way, we’re the other big kid on the block, and there’s just something about the DP that won’t allow that to happen.”
“I don’t get that, Bobby. Why don’t they just say, ‘OK, so there’s two big space nations. Ho-hum.’”
Dunham laughed.
“They won’t do that, Amanda. They just have this attitude, like, ‘We’re the big guys, and everybody else is less than us.’ They can’t conceive we would leave it at that. That we could be as big as them and not be a problem. They think we would try to push them around, because that’s what they do to everyone smaller than them. If we’re as big as them, we’re a threat. Period. That’s just the way they think.”
“So you think they’ll attack Sintar?”
“Not right away, but yes, they will. Probably when they think we’re too spread out with all the annexations to fight them effectively.”
“Then what’ll happen?”
Dunham shrugged.
“They’ll lose.”
“Careful, Bobby. When someone thinks they’re going to be defeated, they have nothing left to lose. When it comes down to the clinches, they may try something stupid.”
“Yes. I know. I expect them to do just that.”
“And then?”
“And then they’re going to get hurt. Badly.”
EMPIRE: Warlord (EMPIRE SERIES Book 5) Page 23