by Jay Allan
Chapter Seventeen
Barroux City, Capital of the Barroux People’s Republic
Barroux, Rhian III
Union Year 219 (315 AC)
“Albaron made it through, but I think that’s going to be the last. Captain Higgs isn’t even sure he wants to try to make the run back out.”
If the fact that he had a crew of outlaws as unexpected long-term guests didn’t stress things enough to him, Mike Hoover could tell all he needed to know from Silvia Breen’s tone. He’d come to trust his number two, which was a rare thing in his trade.
“So, they’ve finally managed to tighten the blockade? I guess we should be thankful it took them as long as it did.”
“It looks like the intel was right about that. They must have still been trying to finish repairs on their ships from the war. It does take a large force to mount an effective blockade.” He could hear the scorn in Breen’s voice. The Confederation’s entire fleet had been totally refitted for months now, save for a few ships with truly extensive damage. It was a stark contrast to the Union’s continued efforts to get its fleets back to something like full readiness.
Which is an ironic advantage, since so many of our ships were just fixed up so they could be decommissioned.
“Well, I guess it’s not easy to conduct business as usual in the middle of a revolution.” Hoover didn’t know exactly what had happened in the rest of the Union since the end of the war. There had clearly been tremendous unrest…and yet, Gaston Villieneuve was still at the top. If anything, the Sector Nine chief had more power than he’d had before. That was a sobering thought, and one that fostered a less than optimistic view of the prospects for long-term peace.
It was also the main reason Hoover and his team were on Barroux. The planet was the sharpest thorn in Villieneuve’s side, and the longer the revolutionaries there could hold out, the greater the drain on Union resources.
“No, I’m sure it’s not. Unfortunately, from what little intel we can get here, Villieneuve has made great strides in quelling resistance on most of the old Union planets. He’s gotten more industrial facilities and shipyards up and running again, which is probably why the blockade is finally closed.”
Hoover forced a smile. “Which means we’re stuck here, Silv.”
“Yes,” she replied, her own grin looking just as insincere. “Can’t think of a nicer place. Still, we’ve got plenty of work left to do, so it’s not like we were leaving anytime soon.”
“True enough.” He sighed softly. He’d gotten seven ships through, which represented far more in the way of supplies and logistics than he’d dared to hope for. And, for all the disorder still lingering from the revolution, the new defense network was coming along nicely. He’d put the simplest components into production first, the ones easiest to complete and deploy. That meant mostly laser satellites and disposable orbital insertion vehicles. There were forty of the laser units in orbit already, and within a week or two, he’d have that number up to one hundred. Combined with Barroux’s already formidable fortresses, the planet would be a tough target for the Union.
Which is a good thing, because I’d just as soon not be gunned down by rampaging Foudre Rouge…or whatever the Union is calling its clone soldiers now. The People’s Army, he thought he recalled from the last intel briefing before he’d left Megara.
“Mike…”
He could tell Breen was troubled about something, beyond the stress and danger of the mission. He knew what it was too. The same thing had been eating away at him for some time.
Ever since he’d met with Henri Bernard.
“I know, Silv…but our mission is clear, and to be brutally frank, it has nothing to do with what’s best for Barroux.”
“I know that, Mike, but…” She let her voice trail off. Hoover understood completely how she felt. He’d been inclined to believe Bernard from the minute he’d first met the man. Assessing people, deciding if they were trustworthy, was a huge part of his profession, and every instinct he had told him the resistance leader had told him the truth.
Now, months later, he only believed that more. Caron and his people had treated Hoover’s party well, but they’d been clumsy in their attempts at subtlety and deception. The brutality of Barroux’s new regime was all too obvious. Hoover had lost count on how many people had been killed since he’d arrived, and those were only the ones he knew about.
The planet had become divided, with Caron’s people on one side, and those like Bernard on the other. The vast majority of the population was in the middle, their lives no better than they had been under the Union…and their fear of Caron’s enforcers even greater than what they’d felt for Sector Nine. The Union had demanded obedience, but before the terrible shortages at the end of the war, workers who did their jobs could usually get by without too much trouble.
Many of those around Caron seemed to crave spilling blood for its own sake.
“What could we do, even if we wanted to?” It was an irrelevant question, one he knew he shouldn’t even be asking. His mission was to protect Barroux, and undermining Caron’s government, however repugnant and brutal it was, certainly wasn’t going to strengthen the planet’s defenses. Open rebellion would only make a Union invasion that much easier.
“I don’t know. You know I’ve been on my share of missions, and some of those required doing things I didn’t like…but I’m starting to hate myself, Mike. Caron and Delacorte…they’re what we fight against. For all the lying and deceit we use on our missions, I never doubted that we were the good guys.” She looked up at Hoover. “Until now.”
Her words hit him hard. He’d never heard her say anything quite like what she just had, and he’d served alongside her on many missions.
But mostly, he realized he agreed with her completely. He was carrying out his mission, following his orders…and he was beginning to despise himself for it.
* * *
“I’m worried, Remy. The resistance has been harder to finish off than I expected. They’ve got cells all across the planet, even in the capital city. And, I’m certain they’ve made contact with our Confederation…guests.”
Caron had rolled over, intending to get some sleep. But it was clear that wasn’t going to happen, at least not until Ami had expressed her concerns.
He looked at her, naked, covered only by a fine, white silk sheet. He’d always resented the privileges the government officials had enjoyed while he and his peers worked twelve-hour shifts and wore coarse old rags. Now, he’d come to enjoy such things, and he’d quickly learned to appreciate the luxuries taken from the homes of the now-dead Union officials.
He’d come to appreciate Ami Delacorte, as well. She’d been a follower at first, and then a close confidante, one who shared his secrets…and eventually his bed. He’d resisted her seductions at first, remained devoted to his wife and child, but his resistance had quickly waned. Now, the two practically lived together in a palatial villa taken from the old planetary governor…and Elisa Caron and her daughter remained in the tiny, drafty room where she and Remy had lived before the revolution. Remy had visited a few times, mostly to see his daughter, Zoe, but he hadn’t been to see her for months now either.
“I’d like to see Bernard and his troublemakers crushed as much as you, but we’re doing everything we can. And the Confederation envoys have helped us triple our orbital defense capability. You know as well as I do, the Union will be back, and with more strength than last time.”
“You misunderstand me, Remy…” She reached out and stroked her fingers gently down his face. “I’m not saying the Confederation visitors weren’t useful or that they didn’t help us considerably. But Hoover himself said there was very little chance of getting any new ships through the blockade. And, we have all the specifications they brought with them. The factories have been modified and producing for several months now.”
A cold feeling moved through Caron’s gut. “What are you saying, Ami?”
“I’m just wondering
if we need to take the risk of our Confederation…friends…misinterpreting Henri Bernard’s lies and propaganda.”
“You aren’t suggesting we…” He couldn’t even finish what he was thinking.
“Who would know?” She grinned at him playfully. Even as deeply under her spell as he was, he was still unnerved at the casual way she could suggest murder.
“We need the Confederation, Ami.”
“Do we?”
“Come on…you’re not being serious.”
“I’m very serious. The Confederation is far away. They were able to take advantage of the Union’s disorder to get us some supplies and advisers, but it’s unlikely they’ll be able to contact us any time in the foreseeable future. For that matter, Agent Hoover and his people have no way to return home…and little more they can do for us here. They’re a liability now, Remy.”
Caron inhaled deeply. He’d listened to virtually every piece of advice Delacorte had given him, but he was uncertain about this one. He understood her concern, of course, but killing Confederation personnel seemed dangerous. Hell, it was dangerous. Barroux would need the Confederation again, someday. Delacorte was right that there was little more they could expect from the Confeds in the immediate future, but Barroux could never survive for the long term without some aid from the Confederation…perhaps even some pressure on the Union government to accept a negotiated resolution.
“We can’t, Ami. I understand your concern, but it’s not just Hoover.” One death could possibly be explained away. But if they moved against the Confeds, they’d have to kill them all. “He’s got a whole group with him, other agents, and all the experts who helped retool the factories. Not to mention the crew of the last supply ship who couldn’t get away. You’re taking about killing dozens of people…and eventually explaining their deaths to the Confederation. Without Confederation help and recognition, we’ve got no chance the Union will ever recognize our independence.”
She slid closer to him on the bed, moving her lips close to his ear. “It’s true, my love, that we can’t seem to be responsible for their deaths. But what if they were killed by a splinter group, by that rodent Bernard and his rabble? Perhaps they’re even under the influence of Union agents…or better still, what if Bernard and his people are Sector Nine, agents left behind to infiltrate and destroy the revolution? We might even report those deaths to the Confederation if we’re ever able to get a message through. Such an outrageous atrocity by Union agents might even provoke a renewal of hostilities between the two powers. What could serve our needs more than that?”
Caron listened to everything she said, and as he did, a new thought materialized, one he found unsettling. Ami Delacorte was insane.
He quivered with pleasure as she moved even closer, pressing her lips against his neck. Rationality slipped from his mind, replaced only by desire. He’d never been able to resist her, and this moment proved no different.
Still, the more he thought about it, the more he was certain she was crazy.
He just didn’t care.
Chapter Eighteen
Confederation Intelligence Headquarters
Port Royal City, Planet Dannith, Ventica III
315 AC
“Mr. Holsten, Colonel Peterson is here to see you, sir.” The aide stood by the door, poking his head inside the small office. Confederation Intelligence’s headquarters in Port Royal City was an underwhelming facility—small, cramped, and lacking modern equipment. Holsten had realized all of this shortly after he made the office his command center, and he immediately understood one reason, at least, that Sector Nine had kicked his tail for so long in pursuit of old tech.
He also realized it was his fault, at least on some level. He was the head of Confederation Intelligence. He’d always known he needed to pour greater resources into Dannith and the others border planets, but there had always been another crisis, a problem with a higher priority…and then there was the war.
“Show him in.” Holsten didn’t address the aide personally…mostly because he’d forgotten the man’s name. He wasn’t part of the team Holsten had brought, just some career Intelligence hack who’d been mediocre enough to get posted to the tiny, ineffective office.
“Mr. Holsten, it’s good to see you again.” Peterson walked into the room almost immediately. Clearly, he’d been standing right behind the aide. The Marine was a big man, nearly two full meters, and muscular to match. His steel gray hair was neatly clipped, and a massive cigar hung out from the side of his mouth.
“It’s good to see you, too, Colonel. I wish the circumstances were more cheerful.”
“My people don’t get called very often when the circumstances are cheerful.” Peterson reached up and pulled the cigar from his mouth. Technically, there was no smoking allowed in the office, but Holsten didn’t really care, and, by all appearances, Peterson didn’t give a shit either. “So, tell me…can we drop the ‘Mr. Holsten, Colonel Peterson’ shit, or are we performing for your people here?”
“No, Jon, there’s no need for formality.” Holsten almost overcame his grim mood and laughed. Almost.
“All right, Gary…then tell me what you called me here for. And, for God’s sake, let me know what you need with a division of crack Marines on a Confederation planet in peacetime.” Peterson dragged out one of the chairs facing Holsten’s desk, and he sat down, dropping his bulk hard into the seat.
“I’ve got an operative missing, Jon, and I intend to find her…if I’ve got to tear apart every building on Dannith to do it.”
“Well, I saw the naval task force in orbit, and you’ve quarantined the entire planet…so, I’m guessing this isn’t just any agent.”
Holsten sighed. “No, Jon, she’s not. She’s a friend…and she’s very close to another friend. But that’s not it, not really. She’s wealthy. She was retired from a difficult and dangerous career. And, the Confederation owes her a debt, one few people will ever know about. She only came back here because I asked her to…and she’d barely gotten started when she got snatched under my nose.”
“So, you feel responsible. Like you sucked her in and failed her.”
Holsten wasn’t very sensitive most of the time, but Peterson’s words made him wince. The Marine had a reputation for cutting the crap and getting right to the point. A well-deserved relationship.
“Yes, I feel responsible…mostly because I am responsible.”
“Okay, Gary, let’s forget for a minute that whoever this is, it sounds like she was experienced, tough…hardcore in her own right. Am I far from the mark?”
Holsten shook his head.
“All right, so she might have come back because you asked her, but I’ll bet she was perfectly capable of making her own decisions. Still, I know none of that matters. You’re going to blame yourself, and I understand that.” The Marine paused. “So, let’s talk about the real problem. You’ve got the statutory authority to shut down ingress and egress from a planet—at least, it’s a gray area and you’ve got a good case to claim you do. You’ve even got the power to order my division here, and put us to work bashing down the doors of Confederation citizens. But it’s all subject to review, my old friend, and I know you know it won’t be long before you’re called before a Senate committee to justify your actions. I’ve been blissfully removed from the fetid swamp of politics most of my life, but I know enough about it to guess that a lot of the gasbags on that committee are not going to agree that a lost agent was sufficient justification for what you’re doing.” He paused again. “You’re putting yourself on the line here, old friend. You’ve got to realize that.” Peterson’s voice was soft, sincere.
“Yes, Jon…I realize that. But no more on the line than Andi put herself. Getting blasted by a bunch of politicians doesn’t seem like much compared to being tortured or killed. Hell, if they want to fire me, let them fire me. Who the hell else would want this damned job anyway?”
“You’ve got a lot of enemies in the Capitol. Don’t forget that. You’ve r
un roughshod over them more than once.” Holsten was about to argue when Peterson raised his hand. “Don’t worry…I know you only did what had to be done. Odds are, we’d be fighting Foudre Rouge on the streets of Megara if you hadn’t, but that doesn’t change the fact that there are resentful politicians there. Powerful ones. They may try to do more than fire you…and they’ll have crowds of angry citizens and business owners on Dannith screaming about what you did, demanding restitution for their losses.”
“You think after all I’ve seen, I’m scared of a bunch of Senators trying to put me in prison? They’re welcome to try. I’ve got so much foul dirt on half of them…if they want to start a war with me, they’re going to find it’s very two-sided.”
“That may be, Gary…but the fact is, a lot of these guys know how to play dirty. You may be the master, but don’t underestimate the political enemies you’ve got.”
“I don’t, Jon. I know this is risky. But I just can’t abandon Andi. She’s here because of me, and whatever it takes—whatever the risk to me—I’ve got to get her out.”
The big Marine nodded. “All right…that’s enough for me. I just hope my helping you doesn’t end with you on some prison planet a year from now.”
“Let’s hope. If I am, I can guarantee you, I won’t be alone.”
“So much for caution and ‘are you sures.’ I knew you wouldn’t listen to my warnings, so I’ve got one of my regiments on the way down already. I just hope people don’t see the landers coming in and panic. I’m afraid it probably looks a lot like an invasion.”
“That’s a chance we’ll have to take. It’s bad enough whoever’s got Andi might see those landers too…I’m damned sure not going to make any public announcements until we’ve got your people in place.”
“I understand.” Peterson nodded. “So, where do you want my people, Gary? What are the top priorities?”
* * *
“Minister Lille, I’m sorry to interrupt.”