The Bayern Agenda

by Dan Moren

  “Commander von Denffer was clever enough to realize the precariousness of his position. He recorded the prince giving orders about the abduction.”

  “Ah. I see. Well, obviously, I’d be most concerned were this information to find its way, er, to the public.”

  “Yeah, I’d imagine. Neither the Corporation nor the Commonwealth would be exceptionally pleased to hear of the Imperium’s plans to annex an independent world. Particularly after your last misadventure at Sabaea.”

  “So,” said Frayn, crossing his arms. “A deal then?”

  “A deal. You can have the prince back; honestly, we don’t want him. We will keep Commander von Denffer – and his recordings – as insurance.”

  Frayn’s eyes narrowed. “Surely you don’t need the man if you have his recordings.”

  “Need him? No. But I think the commander is rightfully concerned of reprisal should he make his way back to the Imperium.”

  “Ah. I see.”

  “Of course, you’re the one with a fleet in orbit, so if you really wanted to try and stop us… then again, there’s no guarantee that wouldn’t just trigger the release of those recordings.”

  A twist of distaste crossed Frayn’s face. “Please, Simon. We’re not about to resort to thuggish force.”

  “I didn’t think so. In any regard, it seems like you might have your hands full elsewhere.” Kovalic took a deep breath. Now came the tricky part. “As for the Imperium’s deal with the Corporation.”

  Frayn sighed. “I suppose it was too much to hope that would have gone unnoticed.”

  “Pretty much.” Kovalic drained the last of his coffee. “Look, the Commonwealth has no right to interfere in the business of sovereign powers. Presuming that your deal with the Corporation is all on the up and up, that’s between you and them. I’m sure the Corporation will make its own determination as to whether or not the Imperium is worth saving – as long as invasion is off the table, anyway.”

  Stillness hung in the air. Kovalic wished he had a little more coffee left, so he wouldn’t be forced to just stand there uneasily as Frayn considered the matter. The wind whistled across the platform, chilling Kovalic and making his shoulder ache. He resisted the urge to reach up and massage it.

  “That’s an extraordinarily – and unusually – generous offer, Simon,” said Frayn finally. “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch,” said Kovalic, shaking his head. “I’m not here to destroy the Imperium.” He smiled. “Not today, anyway. Just take your heir back home and shove him in a closet somewhere. We’ll call it a wash.”

  “How’s your boss going to feel about this?”

  “He trusts my judgment.”

  “As well he should,” said Frayn, extending a hand. “Very well, then. We have a deal.”

  “Glad to hear it,” said Kovalic, clasping the proffered hand. He gripped it tightly. “But, if I get wind of the prince abusing anybody, or attempting any more machinations, or, so help me god, if you guys actually put him in charge of anything more significant than a charity bake sale, he goes down in flames. Understood?”

  Frayn met his gaze, unflinching. “You might be surprised to hear that there are many in the Imperium who agree with you on that score, Simon.”

  Kovalic released the other man’s hand. “Good. Now get the son of a bitch off my ship.”

  From the cockpit of the Cavalier, Kovalic watched Frayn leave the landing pad, prince in tow, and let out a mental sigh of relief. One crisis averted. Only six hundred seventy-four left to go. He drummed his fingers on the lockbox that he’d pulled out of one of the ship’s shielded storage compartments.

  “Lucky thing, von Denffer recording those conversations,” said Tapper. He shook his head admiringly, though Kovalic’s long association with the sergeant meant he had no trouble detecting the note of sarcasm.

  “Yeah,” said Kovalic, punching a code into the box. It chirped and unlocked with a click. “Lucky. Let’s hope that we’ve put enough of the fear of god into the prince that he won’t bother calling the bluff. That might give Commander von Denffer a slim chance of finding himself in the crosshairs of an IIS Special Operations Executive team.”

  “Can’t imagine Papa von Denffer’s going to be too happy that his only son can’t come home again.”

  “It’s starting to get to the point where it might be easier to list the people who can go home again.” Flipping the lid on the box, Kovalic pulled out the team’s emergency sidearm and started to check it over.

  The cockpit door slid open with a swoosh, and Brody stepped in. Cuts and bruises still covered his face, though it looked like Nat had done a decent job of patching him up. But there was a glossy sheen to his eyes that suggested he was still riding high on the adrenaline of the morning’s events. Probably not the best idea to let him behind the stick of another ship quite so fast.

  “What’d I miss?”

  “The departure of his esteemed highness,” said Tapper, tilting his head towards the landing pad.

  Brody blinked, looking back and forth between the canopy and Kovalic. “That’s it? We just handed him over?”

  Kovalic raised an eyebrow as he checked that the gun’s chamber was clear. “What’d you think, Brody? We were going to take him back to the Commonwealth and throw him in a deep, dark hole somewhere?”

  “Not the worst idea I’ve heard all day.”

  “The political ramifications of that–”

  “Bullshit. That’s bullshit, Kovalic.”

  Tapper cleared his throat, and Brody shot him a death glare. “Captain, I mean. Look, this guy’s a sadist and it’s not like he’s going to stop. And we’re just sending him back to his own world, where he’s free to wreak god knows what havoc, and eventually, someday, step up to the throne.”

  Kovalic leaned back in his chair. “For one thing, I doubt his ascension to the throne is a foregone conclusion. The Illyricans haven’t had an empire long enough to establish a tried-and-true secession. Hadrian might be the eldest, but he’s got two more siblings, either of whom might be more attractive to the powerbrokers in the Imperium.” Dear god, if there were any justice in the world. “And if Hadrian does take the throne, I can’t imagine the Commonwealth would be sad to see an emperor whose proclivities were a matter of record.”

  Brody gaped. “The Commonwealth would let that madman take the throne just because they knew how to exploit him?”

  Tapper slapped Brody on the shoulder. “Welcome to galactic intrigue, kid. Please queue in an orderly fashion.”

  The pilot dropped heavily into one of the other seats; the glassy look had already begun to fade from his eyes as his body started to feel the post-excitement crash.

  “What the hell are we even doing here?” he muttered.

  “Hey,” said Kovalic, drawing a look from the younger man. “Don’t get too wrapped up in the machinations. We’re the only reason the Corporation and its rather substantial financial holdings aren’t in the hands of the Imperium. That’s a win.” He pulled a magazine from the lockbox and inserted it into the pistol’s grip; it slid home with a satisfying click.

  “Yeah,” said Brody glumly.

  “Big picture, Brody. That’s what strategic intelligence is all about.” Kovalic glanced at his sleeve. “I’ve got one last thing to do before we leave,” he said, trading a significant look with Tapper. “Take an hour of downtime or so, but then get the ship prepped to go.” He closed the lockbox and slid the pistol into the shoulder holster underneath his jacket.

  Brody was still staring at the console in front of him. Tapper snapped his fingers in front of the man’s face, and he jumped in his seat. “What? Oh. Yeah. Preflight. Got it.”

  Shaking his head, Kovalic stepped through the cockpit door and made his way towards the egress ramp. Rounding the curve of the corridor, he almost collided with Nat, coming in the other direction.

  “Easy there, cowboy,” she said. She’d changed from her increasingly tattered evening dress back into a spare set of c
ivilian clothes, and her hair was damp from the shower.

  Noting his scrutiny, Nat gave an awkward laugh. “I think it’ll take a couple more showers before I can wash the whole thing away, but I’m feeling better than I was twelve hours ago, that’s for sure.”

  Kovalic nodded, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. “You did good work, Nat.”

  Nat rolled her eyes. “Please. I got captured by some psycho nobleman and had to be fished out like a kid who fell in the well. Let’s not oversell it.”

  “Hey, we’ve all had off days.”

  Nat gave him an incredulous look, and they both dissolved into laughter.

  She shook her head and wiped a tear from one corner of her eye. “I forgot what it was like working with you. Just a little bit different from sitting behind my desk staring at communications intercepts.”

  “I’m surprised they let you transfer away from fieldwork.”

  Now it was Nat’s turn to shift awkwardly. “Yeah. Well. I decided to make some changes in my life. After… you know. Us.”

  Kovalic felt the color rise into his cheeks. “Yeah.” He scratched his cheek. “Listen, Nat, about that…”

  “Never mind, Simon. I… I should go help get things squared away.” She smiled and raised her hands. “Shouldn’t have said anything.” She laid a hand on his good shoulder, squeezed it, and then continued down the corridor to the cockpit.

  “That makes two of us,” sighed Kovalic. With a shake of his head, he slapped the door release and headed down the ramp.

  It took him about half an hour to get to the park on the far side of Bergfestung. That the city even had parks struck Kovalic as kind of a miracle, but humans responded well to greenery, and the folks on Bayern had never been ones to sacrifice the niceties of life. He supposed the Corporation had plenty of money to spend on things like this, which was good, because the dedicated heliostat and fiber light lines, combined with the natural flowing waterfall, koi pond, and irrigation system, probably cost a pretty penny. The whole thing was tiered against the inside of the volcano’s wall, which had been cleverly covered in creeping vines. A small copse of trees to either side helped obscure the urban scenery, and dampened the sound of Bergfestung’s hustle and bustle.

  At this hour of the morning it was more or less deserted, what with the majority of the Corporation’s employees busy at work. Kovalic dropped onto a stone bench with a nice view of the city; it also happened to be home to the park’s only other occupant, a man in a suit reading on a tablet.

  Kovalic leaned forward, folding his hands with his elbows on his knees, and stared at the city. “Thanks for the information on the Imperium’s financial situation. It was invaluable.”

  The man glanced up from the tablet, as though he’d just been asked about the weather. “No problem, sir. You got him?”

  Kovalic hesitated. “He’s on his way back to the Imperium now, but we’ve got some insurance on him.”

  Somebody who didn’t know the man the way Kovalic did wouldn’t have detected the slight shift in posture that betrayed displeasure. His face, though, remained as impassive as ever.

  “I see.”

  “I already went through this with Brody,” said Kovalic. “It’s the right move for the big picture.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kovalic scratched at the stubble on his chin. He needed a shave. Probably a shower of his own, after all he’d been through in the last couple days. “Your extraction is all worked out?”

  “Business trip coming up next week. I’ll slip away quietly and make my way home.”

  “Got it.” Kovalic’s shoulder throbbed again; he rubbed it with his right hand. Probably time for another round of painkillers.

  They sat in silence for a moment.

  “Something else, sir?”

  Kovalic let out a long sigh and shook his head. “How long?” he said finally, prying the words like nuts from their shells.

  The other man raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

  “How long, Aaron?”

  Page’s lips compressed into a thin line. “Six months.”

  Kovalic pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Six months,” he muttered. “Leaking information to CID for six months.”

  Page had put the tablet down on his lap. He tilted his head towards Kovalic. “How did you figure it out?”

  “Something Deputy Director Kester said to the general stuck with me. ‘The worst of times, indeed.’” He glanced over at Page. “You came up with the contact protocol for Bleiden on Sevastapol; it wasn’t in my after-action report. The only other person who knew it was Tapper, and, well…” he trailed off, raising his hands. They both knew that Tapper was as inclined to betrayal as a fish was to breathing air.

  Page didn’t say anything to that. As far as Kovalic was concerned, though, there was only one question worth asking. “Why?”

  “The general’s running unchecked, sir.”

  “Unchecked? I check him, lieutenant. Every step of the way. Just like always.”

  Page’s head shook ponderously back and forth. “No, sir. Due respect, but you don’t. You’re blinded by your loyalty. Unearned, misplaced loyalty to a man who’s had his own agenda from the moment he left his old job.”

  “You don’t know what he gave up, lieutenant.”

  “We’ve all given up plenty, sir. It’s war.”

  “So, what is this: patriotism?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s exactly what it is.”

  Kovalic gave a bitter laugh. “If that’s what Kester’s sold you, then you’ve bought a bill of goods.”

  “Have I? Jericho Station, three years ago.” He lifted an accusatory finger at Kovalic. “You gunned down two men in cold blood – two men who turned out to be Commonwealth Intelligence operatives.” The finger curled back into a fist. “But you knew that going in.”

  Kovalic’s stomach seized. Page’s first mission for the SPT; it had been a shitshow, no question, but those two faces had been just the latest in a long line for Kovalic. “Sometimes we’re our own worst enemy, lieutenant. If those men had succeeded in their mission, they would have assassinated an Illyrican ambassador and risked open war.”

  “Listen to yourself,” Page snapped, his voice ringing in the empty park. He swallowed, then quieted. “Listen to yourself, sir. You’re justifying treason.”

  “There are bigger things at stake here.”

  “Bigger things than the war?”

  “Yes, lieutenant,” Kovalic said. “Bigger things than the war.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the peace.”

  Page’s jaw clenched. “Spare me the platitudes. You think Kester’s playing me? The general’s got his own little game, and you’re helping him. Either intentionally or because you’re too stubborn to see it. You think he tells you everything? He’s got his own private accounts with the Corporation, you know. Ask him about LOOKING GLASS sometime.”

  “I know he doesn’t tell me everything. His job is to assess the overall strategic impact; mine is to follow orders.” He gave Page a sharp look. “I know my limits, Aaron. I know what my role is. I know what I’m good for. And I know that even if the general doesn’t tell me everything that we’re still working towards the same goal.”

  “How?” Page said, his expression turning wrought for the first time in Kovalic’s memory, hands clenched into fists. “How can you possibly know that?”

  “I trust him. That’s all there is to it.”

  Page stared at him unbelievingly, as though Kovalic had just told him that he believed the sun would rise in the west tomorrow. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I don’t.”

  The roiling that had been rumbling away in Kovalic’s stomach all morning forced its way up into his throat. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know.”

  There was an exhalation from Page, as though all his secrets had been squeezed out of him like a tube of toothpaste. “So now what? Back to Nova for a court marti
al?”

  A court martial at which Page would be able to defend himself by making the same arguments he’d just given Kovalic. Where the general’s operations would probably come to light, and there would be a lot of unpleasant questions and accusations. Not only for the general himself, but for the Commonwealth Executive that had approved his appointment and given him what amounted to carte blanche. This couldn’t be brushed off as an operative gone rogue – disavowing knowledge of his activities would just make the Committee look incompetent instead of Machiavellian.

  One part scandal, two parts politics, with just a soupçon of treason: it was a recipe to bring down a government if Kovalic had ever heard one. And with the Commonwealth in turmoil, the Imperium would have a field day. Not to mention that there was still the matter of information about SPT intel getting back to the Imperium; they simply couldn’t afford to be watching their backs on two fronts at once.

  “No,” he said at last. “There won’t be a trial, lieutenant.” He reached into his jacket and drew out the pistol, which he turned over slowly in both hands. “But I can’t have someone on my team that I don’t trust.” Looking up, he forced himself to meet Page’s eyes. But where he’d expected the man to be calculating some method of escape or some way to forestall the inevitable, he saw only hardened resolve. He shouldn’t have been surprised, really.

  Kovalic swallowed, and tried to banish the sharp stab of doubt in his gut. Sometimes things, unpleasant things, had to be done. Like he’d told Brody: the bigger picture.

  “You were a good officer and I hate to lose you. I’m sorry, Aaron.”

  “Yeah,” said Page slowly. “Me too, sir.”

  Eli cycled the ship’s main power and watched the readouts – the reactor was stable. He marked a check on his tablet, then leaned back in the pilot’s seat. I am all too ready to get the hell off this planet. They’d secured Erich in the private bunks – not that he was chained up or anything, but they weren’t about to give a potentially suicidal pilot free run of their ship.

  Fortunately, the trip back to Nova was short. They’d be a little tight; locking Erich in the bunkroom meant that Taylor, Tapper, and Kovalic would have to resort to the acceleration couches in the hold, or hang out in the cockpit.