by Jay Allan
She’d expected setbacks, of course, but for both Holsten and Barron to escape…that was dire. They were probably two of the three most dangerous opponents to her plans. Admiral Striker was the other, and the fact that she’d just confirmed he was still secure in his hidden cell was the sole bright spot in an otherwise horrifying morning.
“Send him in.” She’d summoned Whitten…no, she’d asked him to come. She reminded herself not to let anger and frustration drive her to cause more damage. She’d spent a long time winning the admiral’s trust—and affection. But Whitten was a proud sort, and not the kind to be successfully manipulated by anger or imperious commands.
And he had no idea how deeply involved she was in everything that had happened, in the corruption and machinations that had pulled him from obscurity to a hair’s breadth from command of the entire navy. Or even higher, if her plans reached total success.
“Desiree…I just took a shuttle down from Prime Base.” He paused. “It’s terrible. There’s chaos and confusion everywhere.” He was clearly unnerved, a state of affairs that didn’t bode well for his ability to hold up his end of things. She didn’t need that much from him, but he had to inspire confidence to the panicked Senators, or things would come quickly to a halt.
“I know. I just heard.” A lie, of course. She suspected she’d known something was happening before he did.
Before he let Dauntless get away.
“They opened fire on Confederation ships. They’re traitors…but no one else will act fast enough. Tyler Barron is very popular, especially in the navy, and Gary Holsten is…”
“All of that’s true, Alex.” She still called him by his middle name, a tactic she felt had worked well in developing the sense of a true relationship between them. And she was well aware what Gary Holsten was capable of…which was why Whitten’s inability to stop Dauntless before it blasted out of orbit was such a disaster. “The Confederation needs a strong hand now. It needs you…in total command of the navy.” She paused.
He puffed up. “Do you think that’s possible?”
She’d chosen Whitten because she’d bet she could control him, but she hadn’t realized quite how weak he truly was. It wasn’t going to be easy battling Tyler Barron with someone like Torrance Whitten.
“Yes, I think it is possible. What choice does the Senate have now? There is an active insurrection in progress…and the longer Tyler Barron is out there, the worse it’s going to get.” She paused. She’d played him most often by putting the ideas in his head and allowing him to feel that they were his, but there was no time now for such subtleties. “I have several contacts in the Senate, Alex…I’m confident I can help you gain the assignment that should have been yours anyway. We have to move quickly…so you have the resources to truly hunt down Tyler Barron, and anyone following him.”
“You’re right, Desiree, of course. I will request a hearing before the full Senate at…”
“I took the liberty of arranging that for you already…through one of my Senator contacts.” She paused. “I’m sure you can imagine that in my career as a lobbyist, I have developed working relationships with a number of politicians.” She left out any mention of the billions of credits in bribes. And all the blackmail. The less he knew about all that, the better. She had to remind herself Whitten was a pompous fool, but not a traitor. If he knew her purpose was to destabilize the Confederation, she would lose him in an instant.
Whitten looked surprised, and for an instant concerned.
“Don’t worry, Alex…I just reminded a few key Senators how fortunate they are to have you available to take charge and see that the navy gets through this very troubled time.”
The doubtful look vanished, almost as quickly as it had appeared. Marieles held back her smile, but she still felt amusement at how easily egotism led to gullibility. “So, when is this hearing?”
“In two hours…just enough time for you to issue orders for the ships of the Megara garrison to pursue Dauntless and its companion vessels…and change into your dress uniform.”
She looked up at him and smiled. “I hope you don’t mind my help, Alex…with such a desperate situation, I just thought there was so much you had to deal with. And I do know my way around the Senate, after all. There’s no harm in me being your lobbyist for a few hours, is there?”
“No, of course not,” he said after a brief pause. “You’re right. I should send forces after Dauntless myself, to track where they go if not to attack immediately.”
No, you should have sent them hours ago, you fool.
“By all means…perhaps you should issue those orders now. I can offer you access to the network’s main comm center.” Because you’re not getting out of my sight without getting some ships on Tyler Barron’s tail. “Then you can go and change…and get to the Senate before the hearing begins.” She knew she couldn’t go with him. It would seem suspicious, and for all the influence she exerted in the body, the vast majority of Senators still had no idea who she was. Ferrell knew what to do, and while she didn’t really trust his ability any more than she did Whitten’s, the whole thing was pretty straightforward. The Senators were nothing if not pompous, and the audacity of anyone defying them—and breaking into their own complex to free prisoners—was almost certain to have them all screaming and crying for action.
“Of course, Desiree…you’re right. Are you sure the communication is no problem? It will save me time not to have to go back to the Admiralty.”
“It is absolutely no problem.” She lowered her voice. “Have I ever refused you anything?” She reached out and ran her hand over his arm, just for a few seconds. “Now,” she said, taking hold of the arm she’d just rubbed, “let’s get you to the comm center and on a line to Prime Base.”
* * *
“I didn’t believe it when I heard your voice on the comm, not at first.” Barron sat in his office, not behind the desk, but in one of the two chairs in front, looking at Atara Travis, who occupied the other. “You were in that medpod for so long. For a while, Doc thought we were going to lose you, but I told him you were too damned stubborn to die.”
Atara smiled. “Doc almost went apoplectic when I told him I was going to the bridge. I’ll admit, my brain was still a little fuzzy, but my thoughts were clear enough to know that you being arrested had to be some kind of mistake. Or worse.” A pause. “Turns out it was worse.”
She took a deep breath. It felt right to be back on duty, and to have Barron there. Which was good, because everything else felt wrong. Dauntless was blasting across the Olyus system, running away from the Confederation’s capital, now a renegade vessel carrying fugitives fleeing from the Senate. That was bad enough…and yet, remarkably, it wasn’t the worst part of their current situation. The Confederation was also under threat of invasion, from an enemy virtually no one else believed existed.
“You’re right about that…it is worse.” Barron’s voice was solemn, matching the obvious grimness of his mood. It was clear he was glad to be out of prison, and thrilled she had emerged from her long coma, but Atara knew he was troubled by the fact that his rescue had put his people into terrible jeopardy. She had no doubts about what she’d done, and she knew she would do it again if she had to…but she also carried guilt for all of it. For involving her officers and spacers…and for the unknown number of Confederation personnel who’d been killed in the operation.
“I don’t know what’s behind events on Megara, Ty…but we’ve got to do something about it. The Confederation is probably outmatched by the Hegemony anyway…if they find us while we’re unprepared…worse, while we’re divided and fighting with each other…” She didn’t continue. She knew she didn’t have to. Barron understood, perhaps even better than she did.
He exhaled hard and shook his head. “I wasn’t in a good state coming back from the Badlands, Atara, I can tell you that much. It was…hard…to leave the others behind, to run home like a scared puppy.” He paused, but before she could reassure him that he�
�d done the right thing, he continued, “I never imagined anything like this, that I would come to find Megara itself embroiled in some kind of conspiracy. I’m just not sure what to do next.”
The AI interrupted their conversation. “Captain Lafarge is at the door, Admiral.”
Barron looked up with a start. “Let her in,” he responded immediately.
The door slid open, and Andi walked in.
“Well, Admiral…I think I’ll get back to the bridge and check on…”
“You don’t have to leave on my account, Atara.” Andi managed a brief smile at Barron, and then she looked over at Dauntless’s captain. “Though, I appreciate the thought.” No one was more aware of Andi’s relationship with Barron than Atara Travis…and she was perhaps the only person on Dauntless who knew that Lafarge hadn’t even entered her assigned quarters since Pegasus had docked with the battleship. She was glad. Barron needed whatever comfort he could get right now, and so, she suspected, did Andi. Atara was sure there would be little enough joy in the coming weeks, and she wished her two friends all they could muster in the interim.
Coming weeks? More likely the coming years.
She stood up. “That’s okay, Andi…I’ve got to check on things on the bridge anyway.” She and Barron could continue to catch up later. She turned toward the door, just as the comm unit buzzed.
“Yes?” Barron said into the small unit on his desk.
“Sir, we’re picking up scanner contacts. Multiple vessels. We can’t be sure, but it looks like they might have followed us through the transit point from Olyus.”
Atara froze at the door, standing stone still. It was no surprise, not really—or it shouldn’t have been—but when no ships pursued Dauntless immediately, she’d let herself hope they’d slipped away. That the chaos on and around Megara had made it impossible for the authorities to send ships after the fleeing battleship and its three companion vessels.
“We’ll be right there, Commander.” Barron turned and stood up, his eyes meeting with Atara’s. “I’m sorry, Andi, but I’ve got to…”
“I know. Go and take care of things. I’ll go check and make sure my people are all settled in…especially if it looks like we’re going to have to make a run for it.”
* * *
“We’ve got them on scanners, Captain. They’re 1.876 billion kilometers ahead of us, and from their course, they appear to be heading toward the Zinar transit point.”
“Very well, Lieutenant.” Captain Davis Heaton sat on Titania’s bridge, looking every bit the calm, “by the books” ship commander he considered himself. Inside, he was considerably less certain than he appeared to be. Whatever else he was, calm wasn’t a part of it. Heaton had always been a member of the Whitten camp, a group of officers loosely aligned with one of the navy’s great families. There were other officers in similar positions with the Barrons, the Prescotts…all the clans who’d shaped the Confederation navy throughout its existence. It was all informal, of course, and whatever rivalries existed between senior officers, navy pride and duty had always come first. Heaton was loyal to Torrance Whitten…but the idea of chasing Tyler Barron made him a little sick to his stomach. He knew all that had happened over the past several days, but he still had a hard time imagining Tyler Barron as a criminal…and even more seeing the illustrious admiral as a traitor.
Still, his orders were his orders, and he was bound to carry them out, especially since more than informal loyalty to the Whittens was involved. The Senate had given Torrance Whitten supreme command of the navy, along with strict orders to hunt down Tyler Barron, Gary Holsten, and anyone who aided them in their escape. He hated the whole situation, wished that someone else had been given the orders he had. But he would do his duty.
Even if that meant firing at the navy’s greatest hero.
Former hero, he reminded himself.
He leaned forward and looked toward his tactical officer. He’d delayed long enough, seeking solace in his inability to catch Dauntless, and the resulting lack of a need to engage his former comrades. But he wasn’t an officer who could deliberately fail…and it was clear that Dauntless’s engines had taken minor damage in the combat around Megara. It was a slight reduction in thrust, almost unnoticeable. But it was enough. Titania was Dauntless’s twin, a vessel of the same class…and that meant even a few percent decline in the pursued ship’s thrust offered the edge he needed.
“Advise engineering I want every fraction of a g they can give me, Commander.” He paused, again pushing back the urge to simply let Barron and his people escape. “We’ve got a job to do, and the sooner we get it done, the sooner we can go home.”
“Yes, Commander.” The tactical officer sounded uncertain, and Heaton could tell the commander shared his doubts, even his pain, at the prospective battle. But there was determination there as well, as their was in Heaton. He wouldn’t like hunting Barron down, engaging Dauntless…destroying the ship and its renowned crew. It would sicken him, and he might never purge himself of the regret and self-flagellation for having been the one who killed Tyler Barron.
But he had his orders.
And he would follow them, wherever that led him.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Battleship Danais
Outskirts of Ventica System
2,300,000,000 Billion Kilometers from Planet Dannith
Year of Renewal 260 (316 AC)
“There can be little doubt we have crossed the border of the polity that calls itself the Confederation. The crew of the small vessel we captured proved to be extremely helpful in plotting the final jumps necessary to reach this system.” Raketh paused for a moment, then he added, “If all of the people of this Confederation are as susceptible to aggressive interrogation as those five, we will have little trouble gaining the intelligence we require for a speedy completion of our pacification campaign.”
The four others present all nodded, silently agreeing with the fleet’s supreme commander. Raketh, otherwise known as Ninety-Six, was the most genetically superior human among all those crewing the fleet. There were many thousands of officers and crew aboard the vessels, of course, though most of them were mere Kriegeri. There were other Masters, as well, apart from the five of the command council. One-hundred-six in all, commanders and sub-commanders of capital ships and various specialists.
The Master, the only one in the advance fleet ranked in the top one hundred of the Hegemony, was the absolute commander on the scene. The others, even his four comrades in the command chamber, were there to advise and consult. But Raketh’s was the final word on all matters.
“We were prepared to destroy the enemy fleet utterly in our prior engagement, having determined the likelihood that they would lead us to their home worlds had declined to insignificance. It is clear now that such a decision would have been in error, that either the enemy was indeed en route to their home worlds, or that an accident of transit point geometry unexpectedly returned them to such a course. I am inclined to believe the latter, though that is speculation.”
Raketh paused for a moment, looking briefly at each of his comrades. “We must now make another decision…how to approach the enemy’s worlds. In the longer term, of course, this decision will be made by Number One and the Supreme Council. However, I do not believe that their orders for this war will be extermination. These humans, though obviously inferior, have displayed considerable abilities, clearly significantly above those of most of our raw Kriegeri stock. Their warships, while technologically inferior to our own, are not of inconsiderable power, and their small one-man vessels have challenged our defensive capabilities with surprising effectiveness. I believe the Council’s instructions will mirror my own inclination, which is to conquer but not destroy. There is much to gain by absorbing these humans into the Hegemony…once they are put into their place in the natural order, of course.”
“I agree, Ninety-Six. The Hegemony must continue to grow, or it will stagnate. These…people…represent a substantial human populatio
n previously unknown to us. Save for the Others, it is the only such pool of fresh genetic specimens we know of amid the ruins of the Great Death. It would be wasteful to simply annihilate them.” The man next to Raketh spoke calmly, as though debating whether a piece of fruit was spoiled or still edible rather than the deaths of billions of humans.
“I agree as well, in principal. Yet, I have doubts, too.” The woman on Raketh’s other side spoke now. Her designation was One Hundred Twenty-Four, and her name was Lialla. Her ranking made her the second in command of the fleet. “For one, our land forces in the fleet are somewhat limited, and quite possibly not sufficient for a full planetary assault. We are still too far out for detailed scans and population estimates, however the energy readings are sufficient to suggest a planetary population possibly measured in the hundreds of millions. We have some records of the enemy ground forces from Keltath. The natives there, admittedly among the most primitive of the Defekts in the Hegemony, apparently even believed they were a force sent by the Masters. I agree that this enemy is inferior, but they are likely to prove considerably more difficult to defeat than the scattered and deteriorated populations we have so often faced. To commence a ground assault and be defeated would only inspire pointless confidence in our enemy, and significantly increase the difficultly of subjugating them.”
Raketh nodded respectfully. “Your words are wise, Lialla, and your rationale is unassailable. Yet, while I believe this war will be fought to conquer and not obliterate, the populated planet in this system is but one of what must be many. We can, therefore, employ harsher measures here. Our Kriegeri strike units may be fewer in number than we might hope for…but with sufficient orbital bombardment, I believe they have a reasonable chance to successfully execute the assault. Our losses may be higher than we would normally consider optimal, but Kriegeri are, after all, replaceable. Our primary goal here is to obtain data on the enemy polity and its reach, and whatever other intelligence may assist in planning the ultimate war effort. I believe we can successfully complete this objective even in the event that civilian losses exceed ninety percent. Even ninety-five.”