Sol (The Silver Ships Book 5)

by S. H. Jucha

  Brennan picked up the next part of the broadcast relating the details of his investigation into the transformation of Idona Station. “I’ve shared this information with our commerce leaders, and they are astounded by the productivity of the Idona Stationers, who are working together in a spirit of cooperation, unlike the policies that we at the helm of the UE have fostered. In this regard, I’ve received the overwhelming support of commerce to align itself with the changes embraced by Tribune Woo and Space Admiral Chong.”

  Leaning almost conspiratorially into the Haraken vid drone operated by Z, Brennan said, “And what, you might wonder, has been so great a transformation at Idona that it should engender such a change in attitude in your leaders? Well, have we got a surprise for you. Direct from Idona, here are Patrice Morris and Nikki Fowler.”

  Rather than starting with the two women on screen, Cordelia opened with stark black-and-white still shots of the station before the Harakens arrived. Nikki and Patrice’s voices described the station’s previous conditions from each of their viewpoints. Their story resonated with people across the system as many of those conditions still existed where they lived. The station’s poor condition, lifeless corridors, and empty shops painted a scene of bleakness, and the two women talked of the unending and useless conflict between militia and rebels, without giving away their roles.

  When Cordelia had made the initial point with her images, she signaled Julien, who cued the two women and switched to their vid drone. What people saw were two attractive women, one of them in militia uniform.

  “I’m Lieutenant Patrice Morris, commander of the militia services on Idona Station.”

  “And I’m Nikki Fowler, ex-rebel leader and now Idona’s station director. We are here to tell you that great changes are possible. It starts with forgiveness and grows with cooperation and collaboration.”

  “You might think the Harakens did all this,” Patrice said, “but that isn’t true. They set the stage, the stationers … all of us … we did the work. We made this happen.”

  Cordelia switched to bright, colorful shots of the station in real time, which was on the afternoon clock. The main corridor was crowded with pedestrians, shops were open, windows were filled with artful displays, and exterior shots, which previously had shown empty docks, were full with small ships waiting for bay access. In one artful shot, Idona Stationers were seen watching a monitor of the women’s broadcast. When they recognized themselves on the screen, they turned to the cam pickup in the ceiling and waved.

  The broadcast image reverted to Patrice and Nikki, who said, “You wouldn’t recognize us now, would you? I won’t lie to you. From the day of my exit from Idona’s inner ring, I thought this idea of working together was going to be impossible, but every day we took one small step and then another. It can work if you want it to.”

  “For the militia commanders, I have some advice,” Patrice said. “Lock up your stunstiks and crowd control rifles now. That way, you won’t be tempted to do something stupid, like use them. Trust me. The rebels are going to emerge looking like wasted rats. You can take six of them with one trooper if they get rowdy,” she said, grinning and gently punching Nikki’s shoulder.

  The image of a militia lieutenant teasing an ex-rebel, who now carried the responsibility for the station’s operation, made a statement in itself — cooperation and collaboration between old enemies was possible. There was no reason that humans couldn’t work together if they wished.

  “But we have a word of warning for you,” Patrice said, her eyes boring into the drone’s eye. “The changes the tribunes and admiral promised are not going to be embraced by everyone. The enclave of high judges and their representative, Tribune Lucchesi, are firmly against these changes. They will seek to dismantle this process, which promises to grant fairness to the people of Sol. If you doubt this, be aware that it’s already been tried. Admiral Portland, commander of the Saturn fleet, was sent by Tribune Lucchesi to attack the Harakens at Idona, much to his regret. But the enclave has many fleet commanders in its pocket. They aren’t the majority of naval commanders, but they represent a significant number. Now, I’m not advocating that you put yourselves at risk, but these judiciary warships will need resupply.”

  “My fellow ex-rebels, you are skilled in resistance. Now would be a good time to share that knowledge with your fellow colonists,” said Nikki, delivering a sly wink to the vid drone.

  “Militia commanders, you’ll need key codes to identify your naval friends. That will be forthcoming soon,” Patrice promised.

  Nikki had the last word. “To my ex-rebel comrades, I have this one important piece of advice.” Julien closed the shot in on Nikki’s face, nicely restored by the Harakens’ medical nanites. “Put aside your grudges, and seize this opportunity with both hands. To put it succinctly, don’t screw this up.”

  Admiral Chong, watching the broadcast closely, hoisted a glass of brandy to the monitor. “Clever, Mr. President, very clever. I’m glad you’re on our side.”

  * * *

  Nothing like the Harakens’ broadcast had ever been seen or heard in the system. Not just the fact that it was a real-time, systemwide broadcast, but the admission by the UE leaders that their policies weren’t working and needed to be changed. It created confusion and arguments among just about everyone until cooler heads managed to prevail.

  Across the outer planets, rebels ventured out from their strongholds and hiding places. Some came out defiantly, hands on hips or cradling tools, which could be used as weapons. Others came out with their hands in the air, and the militia commanders with troops came out too. Not all was wine and roses. Often slurs were thrown and scuffles broke out, but in a great many cases colonists intervened. For every militia–rebel meeting that failed, nine survived their first meeting.

  At those locations where an uneasy truce held, the question of how to aid the pro-naval forces and deter the judiciary forces was considered over a welcome meal for the rebels. The opportunity to plot some subterfuge against a common enemy did much to unite the old foes.

  -23-

  In his private suite aboard the Guardian, Admiral Portland’s fork, with food dripping from it, froze halfway to his mouth when the tribunes’ broadcast began playing throughout his battleship. Slowly the fork was lowered to the plate and the tasty meal went cold as did the sensation in the pit of his stomach. By the time the broadcast ended, Portland knew the strategic surprise was gone, the only solution left was all-out war, winner take all. He grabbed his tray and heaved it against the bulkhead. The food dripped down the wall, leaving an ugly smear.

  Cursing the Harakens with every breath, Portland rang for his steward. When the crewman arrived and began cleaning up the mess, Portland yelled, “Leave that. I’m dressing. There’s a war to fight!”

  * * *

  It was the most rancorous of meetings any member of the enclave could recall. Despite assuming their places in the chamber, the high judges were soon standing and shouting at one another.

  Several times the spokesperson tried to regain order, but no one was listening to him. At one point, he walked out for a break and a drink, hoping to discover the enclave had calmed in his absence, but he was to be disappointed. It was hours before the room quieted, and only because several members left for a meal and others for an analgesic for their headaches.

  The enclave did not reform until the following morning, and each member was challenged by the spokesperson to obey his request for order before they were allowed to enter the chamber. However, maintaining order did not mean the discussion was civil. It was acrimonious. Old wounds of votes lost resurfaced as the members sought to accuse one another of mishandling the enclave’s role in the Tribunal.

  At the heart of the debate was the election of Lucchesi to the tribune position. The minority had favored a hardliner, who they felt would enhance the enclave’s power, but the majority felt that a less-aggressive personality was required, powerful rumblings by a populace disenchanted with UE policies
having influenced their decision.

  Lucchesi couldn’t see the value of returning to the Tribunal’s mountain retreat after the enclave’s decision that he should no longer take an active role. He was unaware that upstairs, the enclave’s debate on his fate finally reached agreement — his next shuttle trip would end in a disastrous accident.

  The enclave’s next order of business came to a swift decision, despite their anger over the subject. The high judges knew the Harakens had preempted their plans. There was only a single recourse left open to the enclave — activate their naval commanders and hope that surprise would win the day against the greater pro-naval force.

  * * *

  Woo and Chong worked intensively for the next few days following their broadcast to identify their resources. They knew they had a head start over the enclave. The high judges’ first move would come only after they were assured that the great majority of their commanders were in receipt of their message, which must be sent cryptically through regular comm channels.

  An entire company of top crypto-analysts, previously focused on rebel communications, was now sifting through mountains of messages, looking for the enclave’s communications in hopes of identifying the judicial commanders.

  In the meantime, Woo and Chong were making extensive use of the Haraken SADEs. It was Z’s thought that the SADEs could assist the UE leaders by analyzing the commanders’ historical communications, career experience, reviews, accommodations, and a host of other details to determine their possible affiliation.

  The three SADEs sat in a single room where four Haraken troopers kept an eye on them. They were so subsumed in their analysis that for all intents and purposes they appeared as store mannequins. Stationed near the door, Étienne maintained his post. Alex sat next to the SADEs as stone still as them while he contributed to the top-down analysis.

  Making use of the input from Woo and Chong, the group slowly separated the commanders into one of three groups — pro-naval, judiciary, and undecided. Trouble developed when Alex began asking questions related to recent senior officer transfers.

  “I’m missing the point, President Racine,” Chong said. “Please elaborate.”

  “Let me give you an example, Admiral. Z has identified Captain Charnoose, who was recently transferred from command of a destroyer to a cruiser, a form of promotion by increased responsibility, and we have identified him as a pro-naval officer. The captain had command for three-plus years of his destroyer, but he transferred to a cruiser that has had as many years under command of a commodore that Cordelia identified as sympathetic to the judiciary. To keep it simple … what happens on the cruiser when word of the enclave’s declaration of hostilities reaches this commodore or our message reaches the captain?”

  “If the enclave’s message gets to the commodore first, our good captain could receive a fast exit out an airlock if the key officers are also loyal to the judiciary!” Chong exclaimed.

  Woo added her own set of expletives as the problem occurred to her. “So, while we’ve been categorizing these commanders, we don’t really know the loyalty of the lesser officers on each ship. We should be considering the possibility of mutiny by the officers or even the crew against the captain, and this might work in our favor or against us in any given situation.”

  “Well, that complicates the situation,” Chong snarled. “How do we choose who to send what message to?”

  “Each commander, captain, and higher in grade might receive an encrypted message, accessible only by that individual’s personal key, might they not?” Julien asked.

  “True,” Woo replied.

  “Then I suggest we personalize each message, based on our best interpretation of the commander’s history, and send these to our groups of pro-naval and undecided,” Julien replied. “This way we can even warn captains, commodores, and admirals of the nature of those in their command and the situation they might be facing.”

  “You’re speaking of creating messages to thousands of officers, cross-referencing not only their loyalty but those within their command and composing personalized messages. This will take forever!” Chong exclaimed.

  “Nonsense, Admiral,” Z interjected. “I calculate we will complete the officers’ review within 4.3 hours, Haraken time. Assimilation and cross-referencing of the data will be completed in mere ticks. We have the officers’ encryption keys already in our possession.”

  “I’m sorry. What did you say about the encryption keys?” Chong asked.

  Z asked privately.

  “When Julien asked about the command officers’ personal keys, Z assumed that we would need them and borrowed a copy from your secure storage, Admiral,” Alex explained.

  “While we were talking, that …” Chong said, struggling to control his temper.

  “SADE … yes, Admiral … decided it was expedient to acquire the encryption keys for your naval officers. Now, if you wish to make an issue of it, we can stop and talk about it.”

  “Admiral,” Woo cautioned.

  “Proceed, President Racine,” Chong said, reluctantly relenting.

  “I believe Z was speaking.”

  “Apologies, Admiral, your permission should have been requested. I was merely trying to save us time. I was saying that we can begin issuing the messages early this evening, Idona time. We need only to add an activation time for your orders.”

  “Well, Z, permission is granted, belatedly so. You’re saying you will be ready within hours?”

  “That’s presuming all SADEs are able to be involved, Admiral. If the president —”

  “Z,” Cordelia cautioned, signaling that it was time for reflection on the part of the leaders, not time for them to hear extensive planning details.

  “Well, Tribune Woo, do you have an opinion as to when we should start the war against our own people?” Chong asked with an air of sad resignation.

  Woo was about to pick an arbitrary time when a thought occurred to her. “Sirs and lady … apologies, I’m unsure how to address you, the Haraken SADEs, as a group.”

  “Sers, will do nicely,” Julien replied. “If I may anticipate your needs, Tribune, you’re about to ask us to recommend an appropriate time, which will allow your commanders a sufficient window of warning to make preparations without placing them in jeopardy if the enclave’s message already reaches those in their command.”

  “Yes, I was,” Woo acknowledged, and her soft laugh followed.

  “Mr. President?” asked Julien, which surprised Woo and Chong. They would have been more surprised if they had seen the flow of information between Alex and the SADEs.

  Z pulled the ship assignment records from Admiral Chong’s secure servers, without asking for permission this time either. Cordelia modeled the ship positions onto a visual matrix of the system. Julien added a timeline for the receipt of the enclave’s message to reach 60, 70, 80, and 90 percent of the known judiciary commanders, if the transmission was to have occurred within hours after the leaders’ broadcast. Alex created scenarios for captains and commanders to untangle themselves from the more dangerous positions, overlaying those timespans on Cordelia’s visual matrix.

  “Tribune Woo and Admiral Chong, giving the commanders thirty-six hours, by your clock, is sufficient preparation time,” Alex replied. “If we add the time when we complete the sending of our messages and allow for the average lapse in time until the message might be read, we can round that time to forty-eight hours from now. I presume you have some sort of standard Sol time for your naval orders?”

  “Yes, Mr. President,” Woo replied. “As of this moment, it’s 15:23 hours Earth naval time.”

  “So we will commence your war in two days at 15:30 hours Earth naval time. May the stars protect you and your people, Sers.”

  * * *

  Captain Charnoose was doing his best to fit into his new command, but he seemed to be constantly butting heads with his commodore, and he was beginning to understand why. It was as if th
ey reported to two different branches of the Tribunal, even though they received their pay from the same branch.

  The captain finished his breakfast in his stateroom, took a deep gulp of his cup of caf, and pulled his monitor around to him. On the top of the queue was a private, encoded message, which could only be read on his monitor. Charnoose entered his key and begin reading. He reread the message several times, and his caf turned cold while he contemplated its meaning.

  War between the branches was imminent. That part he understood. It was the notes about his commodore and his escort captains that took some thought. When he reread the message again slowly, it dawned on him that there were no orders, just suppositions about his compatriots to guide him in making a critical decision, which might save or cost him his life.

  One thing was clear. His commodore and bridge officers were of a like mind. On this ship, Charnoose knew he was a dead man. The cruiser had four destroyer escorts, and the message indicated two captains were pro-naval, one captain was considered unknown, and the fourth was decidedly judiciary.

  Since Admiral Chong’s signature was affixed to the message, authenticating it, and the Idona broadcast was recently on his mind, Charnoose decided to make a private call to Captain Darwoo, hoping the captain had already read his message.

  “Captain Darwoo, I’ve been reviewing your readiness reports, and I have some concerns,” Charnoose said after he asked the captain to take his call privately in his stateroom.

  “Yes, Captain, what sort of concerns might those be?” Darwoo asked, wondering if this call was related to the message he read earlier this morning.

  “I would rather discuss those in private, Captain … sometime within the next thirty-six hours let’s say.”