The Emperor's Conspiracy

by William Zellmann

  The Colonel indicated the balls in his hand. “This weapon is a modified version of the kid’s toy, of course. They’ve just put a slightly more powerful spring in it. But the balls! Some of them contain acid, some explosives. Again, no noise, no flash. And they have a range of about ten meters.

  “The resistance has other toys, as well. A pneumatic slugthrower, for instance. Muzzle velocity of several hundred meters per second and a range of two to three hundred meters. Explosives based on something the lab boys call ‘black powder’ that can’t be detected by our sniffers. One of the nastiest, though,” he continued, picking up a clear cylinder twenty centimeters in length and ten in diameter, “ . . . is this. The cylinder is thin glass, not plas, and contains a highly flammable liquid.” He indicated a length of fabric protruding from one end of the cylinder. “To use it, you just light the fabric, and then throw the cylinder. When it hits, the glass breaks, and the liquid bursts into flame. Notice the stuff floating around inside,” he continued. “We had a devil of a time analyzing it. Seems it’s something called ‘white phosphorus’ that burns when it comes into contact with air and heat. Moreover, water won’t put it out. The stuff just burns until it's gone.”

  Micah shuddered again. Then he looked thoughtful. “You’re right, Colonel. This isn’t a spur-of-the-moment resistance movement,” he concluded. “These people were prepared well in advance. Do you have any idea who they are?”

  The Colonel looked uncomfortable. “We got lucky yesterday. There was a skirmish, and one of the men covering the enemy’s retreat was hit just as they were retreating. The Lieutenant commanding the squad was smart enough to have his men drive off anyone who tried to help the man escape. By the time they could get to him, the man was dead. But we found this in his pocket.” He tossed a coin-sized object on Micah's desk. Micah examined it. “A marine ident disk!”

  The Colonel nodded. “I think we’re facing Wil Tor and his marines.”

  Micah snorted. “Tor! Certainly, he shouldn’t be a problem! An uncultured provincial.”

  The Colonel’s half-smile was grim. “I suggest you call up his record again. Uncultured, maybe. But Wil Tor is a veteran of over a dozen actions, and his last assignment prior to coming to the rim was as a student at the War College — in Strategy and Tactics. I can’t think of anyone I'd rather not have opposing me.”

  Micah looked troubled. “I’ve been trying to preserve the illusion that we’re here to save Haven. But now . . . What about taking civilian hostages, Colonel?”

  The Colonel shrugged. “That’s the classic tactic, sir. However, I’m not sure I could muster up a firing squad if Wil called your bluff. Don’t forget, to my marines, these people are civilians, citizens of the Empire.” He sighed and removed a sheet of paper from his tunic. “Then there’s this, Admiral.” He tossed it on the desk in front of Micah.

  It was a poster, obviously professionally printed. In large lettering at the top, it began “MARINES!” Beneath that heading, the actual message began.

  “Is this why you joined the marines? To help a corrupt criminal take over an imperial sector? To harass, injure and even kill unarmed civilians? Look at them. They could be your family. Your sister, your mother!

  “You have no business here,” it continued, “There is no violence here. The only treason here is the treason you brought with you! Do you really believe the Emperor would abandon the Round Trip Ticket? Or is that just another of Jonas’ lies? THINK ABOUT IT!”

  “Those things are appearing all over the compound,” the colonel said. “There seems to be a whole series of them. I’ve seen several different versions. Moreover, the troops are reading them. Since we got here we’ve had almost a hundred desertions.”

  Micah frowned. “Well, stop them, Colonel. Confine the men to barracks or something!”

  The Colonel shook his head. “That's not a solution, sir. For one thing, it’s not necessary. None of the troops go into town anymore, except on duty. It’s too dangerous. Besides, they don’t like being treated like brutes and criminals. Even so, if I ordered them confined to the compound, they’d resent it. We’d just trigger even more defections.”

  Micah was getting angry. “Well, do something, damn it! We have no choice. Send your damned marines out and have them round up two hundred civilians for hostages. Equal numbers of men and women, but no children.”

  The Colonel looked unbelieving. “You’re serious, sir? You’re really planning to kill civilians?”

  Micah nodded grimly. “If necessary. We’ll tape them and broadcast the word that unless the terror activity ceases, they’ll be executed.”

  The Colonel winced. “It won’t work, sir!” he said desperately. “Tor won’t stop. All you’ll do is help him by alienating anyone left not on Cord’s side! Besides,” he continued, “I’m not sure I can find enough men to fill a firing squad to shoot civilians. In fact, I hope not. I’d hate to know that I have that kind of people in my Marine Corps.”

  Micah glared. “Your precious marines haven’t done very well so far! It’s their fault I have to resort to hostage taking. Round up those hostages, Colonel.”

  The Colonel popped to attention and rendered a smart salute, whirled and left the room. The next morning he was gone. A message posted on the day room door said he’d defected, and urged as many of his men as possible to follow.

  Micah finally got the hostages, after relieving the major who’d replaced the fugitive colonel and replacing him with a captain. However, that didn’t end his problems, external or internal.

  Less than two hours after the hostages had been taken and the warning broadcast, Micah’s orderly announced Jamin Van-Lyn. Micah was irritated. Van-Lyn was supposed to be aboard Nemesis. He must have come down to protest as soon as he’d seen the warning broadcast. Micah sighed and had him admitted.

  As he’d thought, Van-Lyn was upset about the hostages. The damned fool couldn’t understand that Micah had to be able to hold out until Cord came to fight.

  If it cost a few hundred civilian lives, well, so be it.

  Van-Lyn shook his head. “No, Admiral. Some of the things I’ve done since this began sicken me. But I will not permit the slaughter of innocent civilians. The Fleet exists to protect Empire citizens, not murder them.”

  Micah slammed his fist on his desk. “You’re forgetting who’s in command here, Captain!” he thundered. He pulled his sidearm. “I’m warning you, Captain. You will obey my orders, or I’ll execute you on the spot for mutiny.”

  Van-Lyn glanced mildly at the needler in Micah's hand, then shrugged. “I doubt it, Admiral. You need me and you need Nemesis. Shoot me and you’ll have neither. Cord will be able to simply waltz in here and arrest you. Or simply shoot you down.

  “But I warn you,” he continued. “If you execute those hostages, I’ll relieve you on grounds of mental aberration, and place you under arrest. Then I’ll order the flotilla back to Thaeron, and report myself to Chard Danought under arrest.” The old man spun and stamped out of the office, slamming the door.

  Micah stared after him. The trouble was, the old man was right. He couldn’t afford to lose Van-Lyn now, not with combat ready to erupt at any moment. Van-Lyn’s exec wasn't experienced enough to fight a dreadnought. Besides, Micah didn’t have a firm grip on the man. Nevertheless, as soon as they’d beaten Cord and Kedron, Van-Lyn would die.

  Planetary resistance wasn’t the only problem Micah faced. Predator and Harpy had jumped his two Destroyers, Gyrfalcon, and Eagle.

  Eagle had been destroyed. Gyrfalcon had fled back to Haven, seriously damaged. Micah’s Chief Engineer surveyed her damage, and decided that she'd have to be sent back to Thaeron for repair.

  “It wasn’t Predator and Harpy that were the problem, Admiral,” her captain explained. “They’ve got a bunch of small armed boats. The damned things are smaller than a Strengl, and harder to hit. They’re unbelievably fast and maneuverable. They jumped us before we could transition from jump drive to inertial drive, before we had shiel
ds. And our targeting comps were just baffled. They swarmed around us like bees, carving us up with big lasers, or hitting us with rocks. Some of them have mass drivers that must be fifty centimeters in diameter.

  “Then, just about the time we got shields and some of our shots began to hit those little monsters, Predator and Harpy moved in. When I saw Eagle blow up, I knew I had to get back here and warn you.”

  Micah was thoughtful. Gyrfalcon’s captain was young, but by all reports, he was smart, resourceful, and brave. No, he hadn’t run out on a battle. He’d retreated from one that was lost.

  Gyrfalcon’s damage was so severe that Micah had no choice but to send her limping back to Thaeron.

  Micah had Gyrfalcon’s sensor logs shown to the captains of his other ships. The lethal little boats impressed and worried them. Oh, Nemesis and Dauntless probably had little to fear. Though enough stings could eventually be serious, even to a cruiser or dreadnought. They wouldn’t be given time to realize that threat.

  The Lieutenant in command of Raptor, though, had a lot to fear from them. If Kedron had enough of those damned things, they could overload Raptor’s shields and cut her to pieces.

  “Nothing’s really changed, though,” Micah decided. “Those boats are a surprise, and I want you all working on methods of dealing with them. However, there’ll be no ambushes here; no jumping us before our shields are up.

  “No,” he continued, “There’ll be no opportunity for tricks here! They have to emerge far enough out to give us more than enough warning. Then, they have to attack us on our terms; and one damaged Cruiser and two damaged Destroyers are simply no match for our forces.”

  “But . . .” Raptor’s Captain began. Micah held up a restraining hand.

  “Don’t worry, Captain.” He said, “I’m well aware of the threat of these new boats to your ship. Nevertheless, as long as we keep her under cover of either Dauntless’ or Nemesis’ weapons, you should be all right. Moreover, we will be looking for ways to deal with the damned things. Perhaps the Strengls could give you cover.” He shrugged. “At any rate, we’ll work it out.”

  Chapter XIII

  Bendo and Jamro were as enthusiastic as Cord. They felt the boats would give them a decisive edge. I wasn’t so sure, but the only armed rim tramps available at the moment weren’t fully crewed. They’d have to go it alone.

  We decided to jump Jonas’ destroyers in the Lonesome system. Lonesome was one of the three planets still being colonized. There were only a few thousand people on it. It probably wouldn’t suffer reprisal for the battle.

  Predator and Harpy deployed their boats and picketed the main jump point. They maintained patrols of half their strength of boats, rotating them every few hours. This meant that each destroyer would have four or five boats grappled to it at any given time, while nine boats patrolled. The off-duty boat pilots would be relaxing in the airlocks, suited but with their helmets off.

  They didn’t have long to wait. Gyrfalcon and Eagle emerged less than a day after Predator and Harpy. The boats on patrol swarmed almost instantly, and the rest of the boats joined them before Jonas’ ships could get their shields up.

  Dodging, wheeling, the boats corkscrewed or arrowed in, slashed viciously with their lasers or mass drivers, and then bounced away on their pressor beams. The two destroyers were sitting ducks for almost three minutes until their weapons system power came online. Finally, their consoles came to life and a few of the braver gunners began overriding their battle comps and trying to manually aim their weapons. The destroyers’ battle comps didn’t have a hope of locking onto these bouncing, jinking, torturers.

  Then Predator and Harpy closed in and the slugfest began. Even with the boats, it was a bloody mess. The gunners aboard Jonas’ destroyers had to shift their attentions from the swarming boats to the more heavily armed destroyers. The boats had to be treated as secondary targets.

  Secondary, perhaps, but not ineffective. One of the boats slammed a laser beam into a weakened area of Eagle’s shields, and suddenly Eagle became an expanding ball of incandescent gases, the first verified kill by an attack boat.

  Unfortunately, Eagle was closely engaged with Harpy at the time. The explosion overwhelmed Harpy’s shields and caused serious hull damage, disabling six laser and particle beam weapon stations.

  Gyrfalcon drove frantically for the jump point, with Predator and a flock of boats in hot pursuit. One of Predator’s particle beams was seen penetrating Gyrfalcon’s shield and hull split seconds before she jumped.

  Suddenly it was over, and all that remained was to lick our wounds and evaluate the results of the battle.

  Shar had been right about the boats. Of the eighteen used in this first-ever battle, only seven remained operational, though one pilot was rescued from his disabled boat. Following normal Fleet procedure, Predator and Harpy recovered what they could of the ten dead pilots’ bodies and body parts before jumping out.

  Harpy was in rough shape. Almost half her crew was in suits. She was running on 38% power, though her jump engines seemed all right. With nearly half her weaponry disabled, she wouldn’t be battle-ready for some time.

  Predator was somewhat better off. She’d been holed in two compartments, but both had been resealed, and integrity restored. She’d lost almost a fourth of her weapons stations and over a dozen crew.

  Quick damage inspections revealed that both were still jump-capable, though Harpy’s nav comp had slight damage.

  They limped back to Bolt Hole to a hero’s welcome. They were the first of Cord’s forces to meet the enemy in battle, and the attack boat pilots were the first, period. Cord was grinning from ear to ear, but I was less enthusiastic.

  True, we’d destroyed one of Jonas’ destroyers, and an incoming rim tramp informed us that after reporting to Jonas, the badly damaged Gyrfalcon had been sent to Thaeron for repairs that would obviously take months.

  Nevertheless, I rated it a net loss for Cord; all three of his true warships were damaged.

  Fearless, our battle cruiser, had jumped out of the Outback system with the help of an attached rim tramp’s comp. She was battle-ready, except that she had no jump comp; and without that, getting her into battle was going to be the problem.

  Harpy was probably out of action for the duration. She needed an orbital repair dock. Jamro was cursing volubly as he enumerated her battle damage and casualty lists; but cursing wasn't going to help Harpy— or us.

  Predator was the bright spot. She could be repaired even with the limited facilities available to us, and her crew casualties could be made up from Harpy. Repair time was estimated at two to three weeks. “Make it two, maximum!” I ordered.

  With one destroyer converted to emm cee squared and another damaged, Jonas was down to Nemesis, two cruisers, Relentless and Dauntless, and one destroyer, Raptor.

  “Well, Admiral,” Cord beamed. “Your crazy boats seem to work.”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied. “But I certainly hope that sixty percent casualty rates aren’t typical.” I sighed. “And we’ve lost the element of surprise. They know about the boats now. They'll be trying to figure out defenses as we speak.”

  He grinned. “I know. However, it was worth it, Admiral. We’ll call Wil Tor on Haven, and have the rim tramps spread rumors of the battle to the other planets. Sheol! Jonas couldn’t have hidden the condition of that damaged destroyer; I’d bet rumors are already circulating.” He shook his head. “I know you don’t understand, Admiral, but that victory is worth a dozen destroyers!”

  He sobered. “Now. Do we know who the boat pilot was that blew up the destroyer?”

  Jamro answered. “Yes, sir. A miner from Keth’s World. But he was caught in the blast, and is one of our ten boat casualties.”

  Cord nodded. “Very well. Captain, I want you to recommend him for the silver comet. As I understand it, you were closest to the action.”

  “Yes, sir. I’d already suggested something like that to the Admiral.”

  “Good!” Cord smile
d. “Now, I want you, Captain, to take a rim tramp to Keth’s and track down some of the man’s family. Bring them here for a public ceremony.”

  “Uh, sir,” Jamro began uncomfortably, “I’ve got repairs to my ship to oversee, and . . .”

  “No, you don’t.” Cord interrupted, “Come, Captain, do you think I can’t recognize serious damage when I see it? Your ship is out for the duration, and you know it.” His manner softened. “I’m sorry, Captain,” he continued quietly, “But it’s true. Harpy needs a shipyard, and we don't have one.”

  “What you don’t understand,” he continued, “Is that this mission can help our cause as much as Harpy and her entire crew. We desperately need a hero. The rim needs one, and those boat pilots especially need one. This young man genuinely was a hero, and I intend to see to it that his heroism is recognized. By sending a ship’s captain to bring back his family, we’re showing the rim how important this young man’s heroism was.”

  “When you get his family back here,” Cord continued, “we’ll tape the award and the memorial ceremonies for the other twenty-two casualties we suffered and have the rim tramps smuggle copies of the tapes onto every planet in the sector. Don't be surprised if that boy ends up the rim’s first sector-wide hero.”

  When the other officers had left, Cord turned to me. “All right, Admiral. You’re scowling. Why?”

  I shrugged. “I just don’t like seeing you use those young peoples’ bravery and heroism for political gain, I guess.”

  Cord paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Admiral,” he said quietly, “I’m getting a bit tired of your attitude. I’ve never dealt less than honorably with you, yet you continue to ascribe less-than-honorable motives to my every move. Was it dishonorable of me to use those young men to fight for our cause?”

  “No, sir, of course not.”

  He nodded. “Nor is it dishonorable for me to honor their heroism and sacrifice by sharing their ceremonies and awards with the people they fought and died for. Alive, they served by fighting a battle. Dead, they will serve by giving hope to all the people of the rim. You know better than I the real value of military ceremony. It seemed that there was always some cretin in the Imperial Assembly complaining about the waste of money for military ceremony and customs such as the ‘round trip ticket’.