The Emperor's Conspiracy

by William Zellmann

  Van-Lyn’s eyes blazed with anger as well as their ever-present disgust, but his shoulders were slumped, now. Once they had been broad and erect. Once, Jamin Van-Lyn had been one of the finest Captains in the Empire Fleet. Now, he looked like just an old man in a too-large Captain’s uniform. But Van-Lyn was a highly decorated and highly respected officer. That’s why he had command of one of only six dreadnoughts in the Fleet. That command was also why Micah couldn’t simply relieve him. Dreadnoughts were retirement posts for the most senior Captains in the Fleet. Command of one was an honor, and was always accompanied by a promotion to Commodore upon retirement.

  For Van-Lyn, the honors assignment as the Captain of the dreadnought Nemesis and Flag Captain to the Commander, Rim Sector had been a disaster. For three years he fended off Admiral Jonas’ attempts to seduce him into Jonas’ shady and often outright illegal dealings. Then, somehow, his favorite grandson had found himself facing disgrace and even criminal charges. The boy swore to Van-Lyn that he was innocent, and Jamin believed him. Actually, he suspected that Jonas had something to do with the situation. Certainly, the Admiral had learned of the boy’s difficulty quickly enough.

  Jonas’ oily attempts at sympathy had been transparent, and almost as hard to swallow as the boy’s situation. But if the boy was to avoid having his life ruined, Van-Lyn had to accept the Admiral’s help. Of course, the “help” meant that Jamin was forced to compromise his honor and his honesty. It also meant that Jonas had a hook into the Flag Captain, and had been able to slowly drag Van-Lyn deeper into his web of operations. Van-Lyn hated Jonas for that, with a passion equaled only by his contempt for the playboy Admiral.

  Van-Lyn’s frown was annoyed. “You know it’s only a matter of time, Admiral. With a Fleet Investigative Service investigation under way, it's inevitable they find something. And we’ll be headed for a prison planet in disgrace.” He regarded the man across the desk. Micah Jonas had obviously been a handsome man in his younger days. The remnants of his body-sculpted features showed that, as did the mass of still-thick, wavy red-blond hair now lightening to gray.

  In the years since his assignment to the rim, however, Jonas had let himself go. He’d added more than fifty kilos to his already large frame, and given up all efforts at trying to conceal the ravages of time.

  Micah relaxed and smiled. “I don’t think so, Jamin. In fact . . .”

  “You might not be worried,” Van-Lyn interrupted irritably, “But I am. I wish I'd never met you, Admiral!”

  Micah’s smile faded. “Have a care, Captain. Like you, circumstances have caused me to do things that aren’t precisely legal. And the people I’ve been forced to associate with . . .” He shuddered

  Van-Lyn's expression was skeptical. “You come from one of the wealthiest families in the Empire, Admiral. What circumstances could possibly force to you to criminal acts?”

  Micah shrugged. “I may tell you sometime. But at the moment, we have more pressing matters to discuss.”

  Van-Lyn snorted. “Like how to avoid spending the rest of our lives on a prison planet?”

  Micah's smile resurfaced. “Actually, yes. But only as a side issue to something really important.” He dialed his desk screen for a moment, then swiveled the viewer, motioning Van-Lyn to look.

  Van-Lyn stepped around the desk wearing a doubting expression. Micah dialed through the scrolling images, and pointed at one message. “After a lot of effort and an appalling amount of money, my agents were finally able to get to a subspace communications tech in the palace on Prime. This was intercepted between the palace on Prime and Cord's office on Haven.”

  Van-Lyn read the message silently. He raised puzzled eyes to Micah. “But what does it mean? I mean, certainly . . .”

  Micah shrugged. “Certainly it means what it says. The Emperor is planning to give the Rim sector to his good friend Sander Cord as a personal gift.” He ended in a sneer.

  Van-Lyn looked thunderstruck. “But . . .”

  “ . . . But four hundred years ago, millions died to keep the Empire together.” Micah finished for him. “In fact, my family’s fortune was founded during the Horsehead Rebellion. Now this upstart of an Eron is plotting to give away an entire sector, complete with thirty-one inhabited systems and nearly a billion Empire citizens.”

  Van-Lyn was frowning. "This can't be right. I can't believe the Emperor would do this. Is this one of your tricks, Admiral?"

  Micah shrugged. "Check the authentication codes. It's a personal message from Eron to Cord. It didn't even go through official channels. I couldn't fake that if I wanted to."

  Van-Lyn looked shaken. "This isn't right, Admiral. We have to do something!"

  A slow smile spread over Micah's face. Perfect. Van-Lyn had reacted just as he'd hoped. "We're going to do something, all right, Jamin. We're going to stop it."

  "But isn't that . . . I mean, he is the Emperor, and we're sworn to obey him. Do we have the right . . .?"

  Micah's smile was firm. "Yes, we took an oath to serve the Emperor. But more importantly, we swore to defend the Empire against all enemies, external or internal. This time, the threat we have to defend against is the Emperor himself."

  The old man was regaining his composure. His expression turned skeptical. "And just how much of this sudden zeal to defend the Empire is due to the ongoing FIS investigation, Admiral?"

  Micah shrugged, then sighed. "I won't pretend that's not a factor. But this is one of those rare occasions where personal interest and duty demand the same response. We have to stop this treachery to the Empire."

  The skeptical expression remained. "I suppose you have a plan, Admiral. Probably one that will make you even richer."

  Micah shook his head. "I have a plan. Jamin, but it won't make me richer. Oh," he continued, "I won't deny that I'm planning to take advantage of the situation." Van-Lyn resumed his seat as Micah began to explain.

  "From the fact that the Emperor was so careful about classifying and keeping this message out of official channels, we can assume that it's a closely-guarded secret. That means most of the senate doesn't know about it, or hasn't agreed to it. Most likely, there are only a few of the most influential senators involved.

  "Now, they're probably planning an intensive public relations campaign to drum up support for this in the senate and among the people. Suppose we don't give them the time to sell it? Suppose as soon as Cord announces it, we attack Haven. We could kill Cord and seize the sector while loudly proclaiming that Cord is rebelling."

  Van-Lyn's lip curled in disgust. "How casually you discuss murder, treason against the Emperor and rebellion, Admiral." He spat out the title, making it an epithet.

  Micah frowned. He was tired of Van-Lyn's constantly obvious hatred and disgust. He was also getting very tired of wheedling and cajoling the man just to keep him from running to the FIS and confessing his sins. Van-Lyn was a true career Fleet officer. He'd bought all that Fleet propaganda and esprit de corps nonsense. The old man would never get used to being involved in illegal activities, Micah decided. He suppressed a snort of disgust.

  Micah struggled to control his loathing and shook his head. "I've just had more time to think about this than you, Jamin. The treason is Eron's. If the Emperor betrays the Empire, which of our oaths is valid? Our oath to a man who would plot to dismantle the very Empire entrusted to his keeping? Or our oath of loyalty to the Empire itself?"

  He shrugged. "For me, the answer is obvious. Eron may be the Emperor, but as far as I'm concerned, he's no better than the traitors that were hanged for the Horsehead Rebellion. The treason is his, the rebellion is his, and no, I won't feel guilty for executing his partner in treason!"

  Van-Lyn was frowning, his expression thoughtful. After a few moments, he sighed. "Much as it worries me to find myself agreeing with you, Admiral, I'm forced to it now. Eron's betrayal is obvious." He shuddered. "I still find it difficult to believe. If it weren't for the codes on that message, I'd be certain it was one of your tricks."

&nb
sp; Micah grinned. "If I could forge documents as good as that message, I wouldn't have to worry about FIS investigations."

  The two officers set aside their mutual dislike, and set to planning their response to the Emperor's shocking treason.

  "The action plan itself is simple, Jamin," Micah began. "As the Emperor's military representative, Cord is certain to invite me to the ceremonies when he assumes power. Well, we'll attend, all right. All of us. Every warship that can break orbit, and at least a battalion of Marines. We'll mount a full-scale assault on the Viceroy's palace, and seize the planet." He grinned. "This is the first time I've been glad that Haven is such a horrible place. We'll only have to control a million or so people."

  Van-Lyn frowned. "Let me make sure I understand this, Admiral. You want to take our entire force? Even Nemesis?"

  Micah nodded. "Of course." He raised a puzzled frown to Van-Lyn's face. "I must admit I'm surprised, Jamin. I thought you would certainly approve. After all, the more overwhelming show of force we make, the less the likelihood we'll actually have to fire on Empire citizens. And Nemesis is essential for that display. No one can ignore a kilometer-sized globe bristling with weapons. Besides, everybody knows that dreadnoughts carry planetbusters."

  Van-Lyn nodded, but his expression remained troubled. "Oh, I understand that, Admiral. And I approve. But it will take months to get Nemesis ready for space."

  Micah frowned. "Are you telling me, Captain, that your ship is not deployable?" His tone was dangerous.

  Van-Lyn shook his head. "I'm telling you that Nemesis is two and a half centuries old. The last time she engaged in combat was over a hundred and fifty years ago. For the past fifteen years, she's been nothing but an orbital fort. Her systems consist of two hundred and fifty years' worth of jury-rigging and jerry-building. Her design specs fill four memory chips. But the documentation on the modifications, such as it is, fill sixteen chips. And that doesn't include undocumented jury rigs. Even with the base's facilities, it'll take months to get her spaceworthy."

  Micah nodded thoughtfully. "Well, we should have months. Cord and the Emperor won't rush something this big. They'll take their time, make sure all the i's are dotted and the t's crossed. Of course, they won't be expecting us!"

  His grin resurfaced. "We're going to mess up a lot of planning, Jamin. We'll go in hot, seize Haven, which means the sector, and then loudly announce that Cord was planning a rebellion. Then, we'll formally return the sector to the Emperor." The grin turned malicious. "The Emperor will have no choice but to accept, especially if Cord isn't around to contradict our version of events. Sheol, Jamin, he may end up being forced to award us medals for spoiling his treasonous little plan." The grin faded. "But we're going to have to get very busy. We only have a few months to get our entire fleet battle-ready."

  Van-Lyn looked annoyed. "I wouldn't award yourself the Empire Star yet, Admiral. We still have a few problems in the way.

  "One is Cord himself. I doubt he'll just sit around waiting for a chance to surrender the sector."

  Micah waved a hand in dismissal. "Pah! Cord's a nothing. A nobody. No breeding at all. No background. Why, his father was just a royal tutor! If he hadn't grown up in the imperial palace with the Emperor, no one would ever have heard of him."

  Van-Lyn shook his head. "He may be a commoner, but he's tough and smart. Don't underestimate him, Admiral."

  Micah shrugged. "That just makes it more likely that he'll be killed resisting arrest. We'll have the element of surprise and overwhelming force. I don't care how tough and smart he is; without ships and weapons, we can brush him aside."

  Van-Lyn shrugged, his expression skeptical. "Perhaps. I certainly hope you're right, because the other major problem is our own people."

  Micah flushed, and his expression turned dangerous. "What do you mean? Are you saying that our own people might disobey my orders?" He swelled up visibly. "They're Fleet, and they'll do as they're told!"

  Van-Lyn shrugged again. "They're Fleet, but they're not robots. Many of them have been stationed here for years. Some even consider themselves rimworlders now. Most, especially the officers, pay attention to the sector news. They've seen the good Cord has done for the sector. Besides, Cord's nearly fanatical loyalty to the Emperor is well known. It may not be easy to convince them that Cord's a villain."

  Micah's flush of anger began to fade as he realized that Van-Lyn had a point. After a moment, he released his pent-up breath with a mighty whoosh. "You may be right, Jamin. If so, this is probably the most serious problem we'll have. How do we handle our own peoples' foolish support of Cord and their blind loyalty to the Emperor? If we just circulate the message, at least half of them will think it's a fake and a forgery. We have to come up with a way to deal with our own people before we can even begin to work on fighting Eron's treason."

  The planning went on far into the ship's "night." Micah and Van-Lyn began screening their subordinate officers. They made up lists; officers they could count on, those whose loyalties were in doubt, and those most vocal in their support of Cord. Micah and Van-Lyn determined to sound out those on the second and third lists,finding out who was reliable and who was not, and shifting their duty assignments. When the shoe dropped, Micah wanted people that he could trust in positions of authority and power.

  There would be resistance, of course. Non-routine reassignments would generate questions and resentment. However, Micah was confident that he could handle it. After all, he was the supreme Fleet officer in the sector. He also controlled access to communications with higher authority.

  After Van-Lyn left, Micah became lost in thought. Van-Lyn's hatred and contempt irritated him more than he'd like to admit. Oh, he guessed he was rather a mystery to the old man. Why would a member of one of the wealthiest families in the Empire become involved in smuggling and any number of other illegal activities?

  Van-Lyn just didn't understand. Coming from a certain social strata required a certain very expensive lifestyle. Certainly, his Fleet salary had never met his needs. Joining the Fleet had been his father's idea. He'd discovered early on that young Micah had no interest in or talent for business. When he finally ran out of patience, Jonas Senior had decreed that Micah accept the Fleet commission he'd purchased. So Micah had joined the Fleet, after being told in no uncertain terms that if he resigned, he'd be cut off from his father's money and power. His younger brother had become heir apparent to Jonas, Inc.

  For a long time, all had gone well. True to his word, Micah's father,and later his brother, had used money and influence liberally to ensure Micah got fast promotions and plum assignments, well away from any danger of injury or death.

  Micah's luck ran out during his last posting. Commodore Jonas had been given command of a supply base comfortably close to Prime. For over three years, he'd spent most of his time shuttling between his base and his vacation home on Prime.

  Micah sighed as he stared out the viewport at the planet orbiting below. His planet, just as Nemesis was his ship. At least under his control. The old Emperor had deeded the entire Thaeron system to the Fleet. Micah snorted. Not that it was that much of a system.

  Oh, it had a G9 star, and a system of 12 planets; but only Thaeron was inhabitable. Not that Thaeron was such a bad planet. In fact, it was very Prime-like. However, except for a few square miles devoted to the Fleet base, and a scattering of facilities to provide rest and recreation services, the whole planet was uninhabited. It was pretty from space, though. Well, to be honest, it was a nice planet. Those R&R facilities featured everything from snow skiing to lazing on tropical beaches to hunting Thaeron's weird fauna.

  The system was heavily fortified, though it had never been threatened. Micah had many of the fields of drifting minefields dismantled after complaints from the captains of the rim tramps that made Thaeron a regular port of call.

  Micah dragged his thoughts back from the view. He'd been happy at his last command. Life had been good.

  Then some nosies from the Fleet Inve
stigative Service had descended on his base. They'd been pursuing an undercover investigation for almost a year, and they arrested several dozen of Micah's officers and men for participation in a huge theft and smuggling ring. Why, Micah himself had been subjected to an intense grilling that lasted almost a full day.

  He'd protested of course. He'd immediately returned to Prime and complained directly to the Commander in Chief of the Fleet, Fleet Admiral Chu-Lo himself.

  He'd been shocked and humiliated. The old man had not only offered him no sympathy, he'd called him an incompetent fool, among other things.

  His brother hadn't been much better. He'd called Micah names, too. His own brother — and his younger brother at that! He'd told Micah they'd get him out of this last scrape, but there would be no more help from the Jonas family. Micah would be on his own. Micah's protests were ignored. The family would buy him another star, and arrange a transfer, with no charges filed. Then they'd be finished with him. No more money to supplement his Fleet salary. No more influence used to get him his choice of assignment. Micah would be cut off from the Jonas family's wealth and power.

  So, Micah was promoted to Rear Admiral, appointed Commander, Rim Sector, and shipped off to Thaeron, as far from Prime as Fleet Admiral Chu-Lo could find. He'd been here for six years now, and it was obvious he'd be here until he retired in ten years.

  But Micah wasn't taking his humiliation lying down. He'd show them. He'd show them all!

  Micah wasn't stupid. He'd learned how his officers and men had betrayed him, and the mistakes that had gotten them caught. Surely, as the Commanding Officer of an entire sector's forces, he'd be able to do a better job — and make sure he wouldn't get caught. He'd make his own fortune. When he retired, he'd return to Prime in triumph. He wouldn't have to piddle along on a Rear Admiral's retirement pay or worse yet go to his brother, hat in hand.