by Chris Hechtl
There was one neutral star system, Avalon, though Avalon was continuing to make small strides to join the federation. There was one neutral star system they hadn't reached out to yet, New Dublin. He was leery about attempting to make contact after reading the histories and remembering what the girls on Io 11 had told him about the patriarchy there but knew he had to do so at some point.
A light cruiser had been dispatched from Pyrax to make contact with Himalya and New Brunswick. Along the way hopefully, they'd pick up on the trail to that Ssilli world that was somewhere in that jump chain. Intelligence had narrowed it down to there obviously, and through some science they had a general idea now where to look. Admiral Sienkov's people had cross referenced the star charts with what had been known in the Encyclopedia Galactica. They'd found one tentative place to look, but it was a long shot. His money was the Ssilli were on New Brunswick.
According to the latest INTEL summary Monty's people had put together, heavy grav people had resettled small parts of Himalaya after the war and earlier evacuation. Funny, he hadn't picked that up from his conversations on Io 11, he thought. He'd been under the impression that the planet had been completely evacuated. He wasn't certain as to why anyone would want to go there to such a hostile environment, but ONI was going to run with it and check to see if someone was indeed there. He knew a lot of people were curious and a bit excited to find out one way or another.
He was also aware that the Centaurians in Pyrax had put in a request to resettle on the planet if their application to go to Nuevo B was denied. He doubted they'd like going to Himalaya; the planet was all mountain with the only habitable parts near the tops of the mountains. The Centaurians might be able to go lower but not too deep. They definitely wouldn't be on flat land, which he knew they preferred.
It was becoming something of a past time to guess which planet or star system would be next to join the federation or get an ansible or both. It was exciting and thrilling to some, he was aware that some of the bookies ran games on it. It was already boring to others in the public who ho hummed about the news. He knew it was all baby steps. The real gains would be when entire sectors started to come over to their side.
But with the gains came increasing headaches. He was being pressured more and more to return to the political process of the old federation. Hell, the constitution demanded it! He had to make nominations to Congress. The Senate had to have hearings. He had to have the advice and consent of Congress before he could appoint someone.
That was a lot of red tape tying his hands. Fortunately, the sector Congress didn't qualify, but to keep them from being alienated, he still tried to run as much past them as he could. He just had to remember to do so since it was tempting, oh so tempting, to give in to his impatience and get the job done in the heat of the moment so he could move on to the next problem on his itinerary.
But he had to let the process play out, however slow and riddled with cronyism and backroom deals it was becoming. “The more things change, the more they stay the same,” he muttered.
“Sir?” Protector asked.
“Nothing. A reflection on the times I suppose,” the admiral replied, waving a hand in dismissal. The Senate leaders might play games. Might. None had really formed any sort of opposition to his leadership like Jeff had before he'd become Antigua's governor. Jeff and others had learned a hard lesson in his departure. He didn't want that, nor did they. But he fully intended to stand his ground, and come hell or high water he'd see the job through to the end.
One way or another the federation was going to come out of the dark ages. Even if he had to drag it kicking and screaming the whole way.
All the life-goes-on distractions came to an abrupt end when the Horathian fleet arrived in Protodon however.
Chapter 32
Emperor Ramichov stared out into the image of the void contemplating what could have been. Had his people found Irons first, things would have been very different. They would have … he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw and fists. Damn the man! He thought, forcing himself to ease his grip before he broke a tooth or fingernail. “Damn!” he muttered, turning to look away as he rubbed his chin and lips. The man was a traitor to his race, but he was from a different time. Had they gotten to him first, they could have reasoned with him. They could have molded and shaped him. He could have been a great leader!
But that was not meant to be it seemed. Irons had chosen his side; he'd gone back to the old order instead of embracing the new. Fine. So be it. At least he didn't have to deal with Irons being competition in his own court, he thought.
He inhaled, nostrils dilating then exhaled a cleansing breath slowly. It didn't matter. Perhaps in some ways it was for the best. Imperial Intelligence was having a devil of a time handling the sleepers from El Dorado as it was. And the bunglers who'd let that Vinatelli fellow off his leash … he shuddered to think what damage Irons or his A.I. could have done to his empire. It would have been spectacular and far more damaging.
No, he was an embarrassment and a traitor, an impediment to centuries of careful planning and his successful implantation of that plan. An impediment that had to be dealt with quickly and permanently.
What bothered him now was that program of including brainwashed helmsman onto every ship. Mutant helmsman he thought with a wrinkled nose. His officers insisted there were enough controls to limit the damage they could do. They also insisted that the risk was worth the reward. For the moment he'd let the matter slide. He hadn't seen any results so he had reserved judgment on the matter.
But if it proved to be riddled with problems, heads would literally roll, he thought.
“I want Irons taken out. I want our assassins to declare open season on him. I don't care how long it takes; I don't care about the cost—not anymore. And don't give me an argument about how long it will take,” he said, holding up a restraining hand to Countess Newberry and Baron Ghadaffi, his minister of security.
“There is a problem there, Sire,” the baron said, glancing at the countess. She shrugged but was clearly unwilling to step in to help him he noted. He frowned slightly then faced the emperor. “We've spoken to the guild. They have refused the order,” he said.
The emperor drummed his fingers on the arm rest. “Did they say why?” he finally asked.
“We're not sure, Sire; they aren't talking,” the baron said. He glanced at the countess. “It could be because Irons is so heavily protected,” he warned.
“That's never stopped them before,” the emperor stated coldly.
“Right now all we have is speculation,” the baron replied.
The emperor glared at the baron then his eyes cut to his intelligence officer. “And?” he asked.
“The guild has been withdrawing its services from our empire for some time the countess replied.”
“And the reason for that is?”
“We have never known how deep the guild is, how they are set up. Any attempt to infiltrate them usually met with the death of the operatives involved as well as whoever ordered it,” the countess replied with a grimace. “But, we do know a few things. One of them is that the guild is completely independent and open to all species,” she said.
“Open to all species?” the emperor demanded. “Since when? The contacts we've had here …”
“Have been human. But that wasn't always the case, Sire. We know they've used nonhumans in the past. It turns out they weren't used so much as full members. We also discovered almost purely from accident that they vote on certain things.” She turned to the baron.
“You two and your games are boring me,” the emperor growled. “And passing the baton between the two of you isn't going to spare either of you my ire if you keep playing this game,” he said.
“Our apologies. Some came from my ministry, some from the intelligence branch, but the majority came from our last contact,” the baron stated. “They gave us a message, one my predecessor failed to pass on.”
“And that is?”
“The guild will no longer work for us, not after we initiated the cleansing campaign,” the baron replied. He flinched when the emperor's eyes narrowed. “And no amount of money or power offered will dissuade them.”
The emperor's hands clenched in rage. He was clearly unhappy, fuming about the turn of events. “Why didn't someone note this earlier so we can deal with it?” He finally ground out as he rose from the throne and began to pace.
“It didn't come up until now. They are secretive,” the countess explained.
“And we trusted them? For this long?” the emperor demanded, rounding on her.
“Yes, Sire. There is no telling what they know. And since we've enacted the cleansing campaign they have become distant. The one spot of good news is they are sensitive to Konohagakure; it is possibly one of their worlds.”
The emperor paused and turned to her in surprise. “One of their …”
“I've been trying to do research on them. The results are … mixed.” The countess grimaced in annoyance. “I've noted deliberate redactions, edits, and misconceptions in the various files when I compared them to various copies, some thought to be secure. I think they have gained access and have altered our records as they did to the federation. The guilds are intertwined. The thieves are still willing to work with us but only from a distance.”
Baron Ghadaffi grimaced. “Great, so there is no telling who they truly are and if they are working against us. And since the cleansing campaign has begun ….” It was his turn to scowl. The emperor went back to his throne and flopped into it with a grunt.
The emperor wrinkled his nose as he drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair. “I don't understand. Why would they stop helping us? We pay them …”
The countess shook her head. “It isn't about money, Sire. They would be cutting their own throats if they helped us from this point. Count your blessings they haven't declared against us totally.”
“That would be foolish of them. Correct?” the emperor demanded. He looked from one of them to the other and then back again.
“Not … not necessarily in that it would disrupt us … I suppose it is a question of how,” the baron said tentatively.
“That is true. They have operatives sown throughout our population. We know that because our government and certain powerful parties have used them in OPS here to handle certain problems that have cropped up over the centuries,” the countess stated.
“The other problem is, Sire, we can't get into the federation space.” The emperor stared at him balefully. “No ships can move through Protodon; they are fortifying it. Anything that came through would be boarded and seized.”
“Logically the same could be said of Pyrax and Senka. That means we have to go the long route through Sigma and Pi sector and then back in to get to Antigua. That would take a decade or more, Sire,” the countess warned. “I'm already trying to set up contacts with the operatives we've left behind in those areas that way but it is a slow, long drawn-out process.”
“And we wouldn't have any knowledge if they succeeded or not—not for a long time,” the baron warned.
“Find a way and means to do it anyway. It is a shot in the dark, but at least it is something. You are setting up alternative means of communication with our assets on that side of the sector, are you not?” the baron demanded, eying the countess.
The countess frowned then nodded when the emperor's eyes narrowed. “Yes, Sire,” she said hastily.
The emperor's eyes cut to the baron. He nodded hastily as well. “We're doing our best. As you just pointed out, we need to get it started now. Finding a way to cut the chain down is important though. Perhaps vital.”
“Find a way,” the emperor ordered.
“Of course this could all be moot if Admiral De Gaulte succeeds in getting us into Protodon,” the countess said. The emperor turned his baleful gaze on her. After a moment he nodded.
“But he'll need reinforcements, Sire,” the baron said. “Getting in will most likely entail damage to his ships. Too much or even losses could stall him.”
“I'll consider that,” the emperor said. “We're done here. For the sake of your jobs and your own necks get some progress on the Irons’ front and getting intelligence from the federation. Get on that now,” he growled, dismissing them.
Both ministers stiffened. It wasn't clear to either if the other was indignant by the open threat or not however. Neither had anything to say in response so they bowed and retreated.
:::{)(}:::
Captain Abernly was pleased when he awoke to news that a second Retribution Fleet resupply convoy had arrived in Dead Drop while he had slept. Some of the ships were designated to his command as well, which pleased him. Most were small fry though.
What didn't please him was the balance he was seeing. Eighty percent was going to the Retribution Fleet. Ten to 15 percent was missing, most likely backstopped by that bitch of a duchess in Garth, he thought moodily. He was, therefore, left with leftovers, and he wasn't having it. As picket commander he backstopped the convoy temporarily. His open statement when asked why was that he did not want to send them into a war zone.
However, he wasn't prepared to run into resistance from the convoy captain. Captain Lovejoy outranked him by date of rank. “Let's get this over with quickly; we've got a date to keep,” the captain said before Captain Abernly could open his mouth. “Magnus, your order has been nullified. Countermanded, overruled, whatever you want to say about it. The plan is to sail my convoy to B-97A and send a warship to B-95a3 to check for the Retribution Fleet. I'm going to follow that plan to the letter. If you don't like it, take it up with the Admiralty,” the captain said, locking eyes with the fat captain.
Captain Abernly flexed his jaw and squeezed his fingers into fists. He wanted to tug on his pony tail in frustration but knew better than to do so in front of a fellow officer. “All right, I can't stop you obviously. But be careful.”
The captain nodded. “We will.”
“Safe sailing,” Captain Abernly ground out before he disconnected the circuit. He turned to his second. “Don't give them a scrap more than we have to. Not a drop more fuel or water, no special privileges, not a damn thing. They get what's coming to them,” he said.
“Aye aye, sir,” the lieutenant replied with a dutiful nod.
:::{)(}:::
Imperial Intelligence released a report on the federation potential based on what they had seen so far or picked up from INTEL resources. Unfortunately, they didn't have any current data with Protodon, Senka, and Pyrax in enemy hands; no spy ships could pass through to get word to the empire. Now they were working in a vacuum so speculation was beginning to be raised.
That tended to spark some hysteria as some drew conclusions while drawing up a GOTH scenario.
They knew Admiral Irons was a key master based on several sources of intelligence, most of it from his times passing through Triang. They also knew he'd found his own source of sleepers. The Neochimp rear admiral in charge of their Second Fleet in Protodon was proof of that.
Pyrax had been busy gathering and training recruits for over a decade before Admiral Irons had turned back up. They'd also apparently been turning Pyrax into a black hole for her spy ships. Only one had managed to get in and out, but they had been extremely careful not to look too hard so they wouldn't get caught. So, what little intelligence they had gathered was all they had. It was also approximate, most of it media clippings.
They knew for instance that Pyrax had an active shipyard and orbital fortresses guarding the jump point. It also had a sizeable fleet defending the star system.
Then there were the ships. Imperial Intelligence knew he'd captured one BC in B101a1, the Queen Adrienne, but according to the last dispatches, Second Fleet had more than one, which spoke of ominous things about their production rate. It was pretty close to what the federation itself had reportedly had.
She couldn't believe he had all the keys. It wasn't possible, was it? A key master yes, but a
ll? She frowned as she scanned his bio again. Then something practically leapt off the page at her. She sucked in a breath, disbelief and shock making her eyes grow wide before they narrowed. How could she have missed that he'd been at the heart of building both wormholes and the Nova bomb?
Perhaps the hysterics had a point, she thought darkly. There was no telling what the man had in his bag of tricks and implants. They could not underestimate him.
She turned back to the shipyards. He now had two active yards: one in Antigua, one in Pyrax. He couldn't be in two places at the same time, so he most likely was shipping parts and hulls between the yards. That would explain some of the shipping reports her people had observed before Protodon had been sealed shut. There was no telling what they were shipping now. Whatever it was, it didn't bode well for Horath, of that she was certain.
There were no numbers, no hard data. Just observations and conclusions. A pyramid of assumptions that could come crashing down when hard data did come into their hands … or be proven to be just the tip of a rather big iceberg. She played with her lip pensively for a few minutes before she came to a decision.
Countess Newberry read the report and quietly allowed it to be disseminated as eyes-only reading at the highest levels of the government. She made certain she had a cutout in case the emperor wanted to retaliate for the release.
It was grim reading. According to the report and the simulations that had been run based on the raw data, the rapid increase in threat potential right in their backyard, one they may not be able to handle even if they sortie the entire Home Fleet came as something as a shock to all. The report's conclusions alarmed the admirals and ruling families.
The emperor tried to calm them but verbal appeasement wasn't enough. Something had to be done, a show at least. For several days Pyotr fumed about how it was coming apart just when he was at the cusp of winning. He shook his head. Saying that he now had his fingers crossed that Admiral De Gaulte and his two eldest would get the job done and prove their fears unfounded was something he didn't want to admit, not even in the privacy of his own mind.