Wreaths of Empire

by Andrew M. Seddon

  Was it better than nothing? Peace at any price?

  What if one side was lulled into a false security? What if the other side pulled a surprise, devastating attack? There went any hope for reconciliation ever again.

  It wasn’t fair! Finally, there was a chance to end the endless war, and she stumbled onto this! It was almost enough to make her think that God didn’t care about the fate of the galaxy.

  She weighed her options. To inform the entire negotiating team made no sense. Gellner and Iverson would use the information to scuttle the conference. Koharski might want peace, but on her terms, and would otherwise allow the war to continue. Maricic was an unknown variable.

  That left Stalker. Why should the decision be hers alone? Stalker was the chief of Intelligence, and was both reasonable and pro-peace. But the strain of his forced approaching retirement seemed to be telling on him. Was it unfair to burden him more?

  But, another side of her argued, that was why Stalker had the stripes.

  Indeed. One part of being a successful officer was knowing when to handle a matter herself, and when to pass it upstairs. Her job was to separate the gold from the pyrite. But which category did Watford’s file belong to?

  Best err on the side of caution. Maybe she’d make herself look foolish, but it was better than the alternative. First thing in the morning, she’d tell Stalker.

  That was two problems down.

  What about the personal issue with Kuchera?

  Once again she stared out at the stars that seemed so close that she could almost reach out and touch them.

  Mom, I wish you were here. I could use some advice right about now.

  Delta Pavonis, a twin of Sol, was also too faint to be seen. But in her mind, she visualized it clearly, and her visit there just two weeks ago…

  The wind whistled and moaned, tugging at her jacket as if seeking admittance. Jade tucked herself into a wind-scoured hollow in the rugged flank of the mountain, out of reach of the probing fingers of restless air. Far below, on the broad plain where the mountain met the sea, the twinkling lights of Raleigh City battled for existence against the dawn. A translucent veil of clouds fringed the horizon and hinted at afternoon rain.

  The capital city of Greatmount was the merest smudge on the horizon, despite being home to thirty million people. A further two hundred million lived in the smaller cities.

  As she watched, a sparkle soared into the sky, heading for space. Though the details weren’t visible from this distance, she could tell by the contrail that the vessel was a cargo freighter.

  And yet she wasn’t really that high. The Mount reared up for nearly another thirty kilometers above where she stood, a continent in its own right. The habitable zone of Greatmount ran like a ring around the base of the Mount. Farther around the Mount’s flank, the massive Greyling formation—sheer cliffs ten kilometers high—slashed like a giant sword-cut. She thought how many significant events of her life had taken place on mountains.

  The wind dropped as Delta Pavonis rose higher into the sky, and Raleigh City merged into the shadowy green of vegetation.

  As a child, she had often fled here. It was a place to escape from the city, to escape from adults, to escape from life. Scratched onto the undersurface of the overhang was a drawing of a spaceship and a fish she had carved when she was twelve, to show that this was her secret spot. She ran her fingers over its still-deep outlines, barely affected by the passage of years.

  Jade moved closer to the edge of the ledge, where the ground crumbled away into a gentle slope and a hillock concealed her flitter. She slid her pack off her shoulders and set it carefully on the ground. She opened the sealing strip and removed a small urn.

  So small, to represent a whole person!

  She settled to her haunches, held the urn with both hands, and decanted it. The ashes spilled onto a flat rock, forming a cone.

  As if hesitant to intrude, the wind dispatched meek tendrils to explore the fragile pile, swirling the light dust and wafting it away.

  Jade sat, watching the ash diminish until the last fragments had disappeared.

  “I love you, Mom,” she whispered.

  She retreated back under the overhang, and with her hands scooped out a hollow beneath the drawing. She read the inscription on the urn one last time—Ruby Lafrey, 2444-2553. She placed the urn in the hollow, and walled it in with small rocks. She dusted her hands and stood back to study the result, nodding with satisfaction.

  She pulled a book from her pocket and flicked it on. The words materialized before her eyes via her visual implant. She read softly out loud. Her mother had chosen these words, stipulated in her will that they be read.

  “If I lift up my eyes to the hills, where shall I find help?

  My help comes only from the Lord, maker of heaven and earth.”

  Her mother had found solace in those ancient words.

  It seemed strange to be reading a poem that had been written so many centuries ago by a man of another culture on a far distant planet. The writer of the three-thousand year old poem would never have dreamed of other worlds—and certainly not such a mountain as gave Greatmount its name.

  The breeze ruffled her hair like the comforting touch of a friend. Jade looked beyond the words, over the valley towards distant Raleigh City. Ruby Lafrey had never seen Earth, even though it was easily reached, never left Greatmount, the planet of her birth.

  She continued reading.

  “…the sun will not strike you by day nor the moon by night.

  The Lord will guard you as you come and go,

  now and for evermore.”

  Jade flicked the book off. She repeated the last word, evermore, to herself. Evermore. It had a nice sound to it.

  She turned to begin her descent.

  “Goodbye, Mom.”

  The mist on the horizon became a blur of tears…

  Jade realized that her eyes had focused on moisture left by her palm on the viewport. She watched the loops and whorls slowly evaporate.

  Her mother would have liked Troy—it was a shame that Jade had never been able to get them to meet. And she knew what her mother would have said: Don't let another opportunity pass you by. You’re not young any more, Jade. Good men are hard to find.

  She turned away and began to follow the curve of the corridor towards her quarters. She wished it was that simple. She wished for the solace that so naturally comforted her mother.

  Far along the corridor, in his Sector B office, Fleet Admiral Lewis Gellner scowled at Blair Iverson’s face in his commscreen.

  “It’s not going to happen, Iverson,” the admiral growled. His fist smacked into his other palm. “Not a word from Lafrey or Stalker!”

  His stomach burned. So much for trying to be patient. After so many years, it simply wasn’t in him anymore. Not when the stakes were this high.

  The Political officer cleared his throat. “Do you want me to investigate, sir?”

  “Yes! Find out how much she knows!”

  Iverson nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll make the arrangements and report to you in the morning.”

  “See that you do, Iverson.” Gellner blanked the screen. He rubbed his forehead. Oh, how he ached for an end to the war and all the difficult decisions that came with it. But he hadn’t worked this long to be frustrated now.

  No.

  FIVE

  First Admiral Charles Stalker picked up his cup and took a large gulp of his morning coffee. Steam rose from the brew as he set the cup back down again with a clatter that made Jade wince. He picked up a stylus from his desk and twirled it around his fingers. Jade watched the sequence of actions, waiting for Stalker to speak. She could imagine the turmoil he was going through after he’d listened to her report.

  She’d presented herself to his office early, before the next day’s sessions were due to begin.

  “Heck of a way to start the day,” he said. He put down the stylus and reached for the coffee again. “Do you know how many rumors and counte
r-rumors I’ve heard in my years in Intelligence?” He stared into the depths of his cup. “It seems as if every week one side or the other has developed the ultimate weapon. After a while you stop believing them.”

  “But sir—”

  Stalker’s sharp eyes flicked up from behind his rugged brows. “That’s when it’s time to retire and let somebody younger separate the nuggets of truth from the slag heaps of falsehood.”

  Jade didn’t answer.

  “The pro-war faction couldn’t ask for better news than this,” Stalker finished. “If it’s true, of course.”

  Jade passed a hand over her eyes. Her lids felt heavy, and she knew dark circles curved beneath them. “There are uncertainties,” she said.

  “Why did you wait before telling me?” Stalker continued.

  “It took me a while to decode the files,” Jade said. “And then I wanted Emmers to double-check them. I wondered about their veracity. And then—and then I had to come to grips with it too. I frankly am unsure what to believe.”

  Stalker blew on his coffee. “This Watford wasn’t working under your instructions?”

  Jade shook her head. “Never has.”

  Stalker put his cup down and pushed it away. “So. What do we do now?”

  “To tell or not to tell,” Jade said. "May I offer my thoughts on the matter?"

  Stalker waved assent.

  Jade repeated the substance of her previous day’s pondering.

  “I’m in general agreement,” Stalker said when she’d concluded. “Obviously, Gellner and Iverson must not be told. Ditto Koharski—much as I like her personally, she’s too unpredictable for my taste. Travers could probably be trusted, but as non-military he’s inconsequential at this juncture. If anything comes of this, it’ll be the Navy that bears the brunt. So that leaves Maricic.” He pulled the wafer from his computer terminal. “I’d be inclined not to tell her. We’ve come too far to jeopardize the negotiations. Even as recently as last year, the thought that we’d be involved in serious dialogue with the Gara’nesh would have been unthinkable. We can’t throw that away.”

  “Neither can we just let it go, sir.”

  “I didn’t say that. But this,” Stalker rotated the wafer through his fingers, “can be handled covertly.”

  Jade frowned.

  “What’s on your mind?” Stalker asked.

  “I don’t like what I’m about to suggest,” Jade said, “but I wonder if it would be best if we did inform Member Maricic. If she’s even half as open-minded as she’s supposed to be, then perhaps we can trust her to do the right thing. Perhaps quietly let Ambassador Halaffi know that we know. Have the Admiralty or Intelligence pursue the matter covertly. Whatever. If we keep this matter to ourselves, and things go wrong…we won’t be the only ones who pay the price.”

  “I see your point.” Stalker gnawed on the stylus. “Although I find myself surprised that you’re ready to trust a Central Committee Member.”

  So am I, Jade thought. She said nothing.

  “Communications access,” Stalker said abruptly. “Member Maricic.” While he waited for the connection, he said to Jade, “There’s no going back.”

  She swallowed. “I know, sir.”

  Stalker’s commscreen illuminated with Georgia Maricic’s profile. “Maricic.”

  “Member,” Stalker said, “Commander Lafrey and I have information we think you should see personally.”

  “My office. Now.”

  Stalker gestured to Jade. “Let’s go.”

  Minutes later, an aide ushered Jade and Stalker into a large and well-appointed office that adjoined Maricic’s extensive suite which included not only her personal living space but quarters and offices for her coterie of functionaries.

  Maricic sat behind a desk of some exotic wood, deep-grained and glowing. She waved them to seats.

  She glanced at Jade, but spoke to Stalker. “You said you have information, Admiral?”

  Stalker nodded. He held out the decoded wafer. “This was delivered to Commander Lafrey by a now-deceased agent.”

  Maricic raised her eyebrows. She accepted the wafer, inserted it into her terminal, and read.

  Jade’s stomach knotted as she waited for Maricic’s response.

  It wasn’t long in coming.

  Georgia Maricic’s exquisite face set as frigid as a winter storm on Windward when the arctic gales swept from the nightside. The kind of storm that Jade had seen bury the countryside under meters of snow, bringing the life of the colony world to a virtual standstill.

  When she spoke, the Member’s normally cultivated voice was as cold as her expression.

  “If it was anybody—anybody—besides you two bringing me this news, I’d erase this wafer on the spot and have the pair of you arrested. This is the kind of vague supposition and rumor I’d expect from a lunatic fringe.”

  She shook her head, evoking a melodious jingle from long, dangling earrings that reminded Jade of Hopi kachinas. “I’m to meet with Ambassador Halaffi in an hour. What am I supposed to tell her? That we suspect the Gara’nesh are building some kind of super weapon at the same time she’s talking peace?”

  Jade hoped Stalker would speak, but the First Admiral remained silent.

  Maricic turned her grey eyes on Jade. “Where did you get this?”

  Jade was conscious of Stalker’s unease. Her own threatened to overwhelm her. “From a freelance agent, Member, who in the past has sold information to both Intelligence and the Political and Ideological Bureau, as well as…other interests in the private sector.”

  “A self-styled information broker.” Maricic spat out the words as if they tasted bad. “You’re potentially jeopardizing the conduct of these negotiations on the uncorroborated word of some rumor-grubbing freelancer?”

  Jade flushed. “I wouldn’t have brought it to Admiral Stalker’s attention unless I thought that there was at least a viable possibility that the information was reliable, Member.”

  “There are no specifics on this, Commander.”

  “Unfortuntely not, Member,” she said, deciding to keep Emmers’ suspicions about the wafer to herself.

  Maricic gazed at Jade, her mouth a tight line, before turning her attention to Stalker. “Admiral?”

  Stalker cleared his throat. “I have found Commander Lafrey to have excellent judgment,” he said. “As to the information?” He shrugged. “In the past Intelligence has found it worthwhile to follow-up on information that this informant has supplied.”

  Maricic leaned back in her chair. Jade followed her gaze towards the large holo-window that opened out over Covenant. The blue glow of a departing shuttle flared briefly, heading towards the far distant Third Fleet.

  Finally, Maricic spoke. “If it’s true that the Gara’nesh are developing a new weapon, it could mean more than the breakdown of negotiations. It would pose a threat to the very existence of the Hegemony. Much as I would like to, I cannot ignore the possibility that this information is correct. But before I confront Halaffi with it, I have to be sure.”

  She swiveled her chair towards Stalker. “Please excuse us, Admiral.”

  “Member—?” Stalker exclaimed.

  Maricic extended a long, manicured finger in the direction of the door. “Please, Admiral.”

  Stalker rose and departed.

  Jade’s chest tightened as she was left alone with the Committee Member.

  Maricic waited until the door had closed behind Stalker.

  “Commander Lafrey,” Maricic began, “I want you to handle this assignment personally.”

  “I’ll assign a field agent immediately—”

  “No. Go yourself.”

  “Me, Member?” Jade blurted. “Isn’t it more important for me to remain here, at the negotiations?”

  “What’s important is what I decide is important. You’re the logical choice. The fewer that know about this, the better. I obviously cannot send Admiral Stalker, and, with all due respect for his abilities, I doubt that covert field work
remains one of them. You, on the other hand, are experienced.”

  Jade pondered the implications. Maricic made them plain.

  “Don’t think you haven’t been under scrutiny,” Maricic said. “You have powerful friends as well as powerful enemies. You are good, very good. But there are some who question your loyalties-”

  “I would never betray the Hegemony to the Gara’nesh!”

  “Please do not interrupt me. Perhaps not. But would you be unhappy to see the existing order fall? You do not need to answer.”

  Maricic swiveled back to resume staring out the window. “Perhaps you may not know, Commander, but the Central Committee is divided. There are those who would like nothing better than to see the war continue. The only way to prevent that is for those of us here on Covenant to have as much information as possible.

  “If the Gara’nesh have truly developed a new weapon,” she continued, “I want to know. I also want to know what it is, and where it is. I want proof, Commander. Proof that I can show to the Central Committee, proof that I can wave in Halaffi’s face. Get me that proof.”

  Jade hoped her nervousness didn’t show in her voice. “I’ll do my best, Member.”

  “Your informant states he got his information from a free-trader named Trevarra,” Maricic said, her tone full of skepticism. “So start there. But I won’t believe the word of a smuggler either, so find hard evidence.”

  “Yes, Member.”

  “The negotiations will undoubtedly be protracted. I can stall them for longer if necessary. But not indefinitely. So it will need to be done quickly.”

  Maricic rested an elegant hand on the desk. “You may have the use of my personal vessel along with my pilot.”

  “I have my own, Member.”

  “Very well. Funds may be drawn on my account if your operating account isn’t adequate. Report directly to me, but only when absolutely necessary. I rely on your discretion. Is that clear?”

  Jade’s mouth was dry, but she said, “Perfectly, Member.”

  “Good. Be on your way. And remember that the fate of the Hegemony may be resting in your hands.”