Throne of Stars

by David Weber

  “Anything to do about it?” Roger asked.

  “I’ve been reading up on everything I can get translated on stingship doctrine. But we’ve got a lot of studying to do, and I’m not sure what’s relevant and what’s not. We’re not as far along as I’d hoped. Sorry.”

  “Keep working on it,” Roger said. “That’s all we can do for now.”

  “They’re using Greenbrier,” Raoux said. The sergeant major no longer looked like herself. Like the Saint commandos, Raiders often had to modify their looks, and she’d gotten a crash retraining in old skills since the coup. “He’s on his way there at the moment.”

  “Why Greenbrier?” Marinau asked. “It’s just about the smallest of the dispersal facilities.”

  “Probably the only one Kosutic knew about,” Catrone said. “Pahner would’ve known more, but—” He shrugged. “We’ll shift the base to Cheyenne quick enough if it goes well.”

  “You ready?” Raoux asked.

  “Let’s get our mission faces on.”

  “All right,” Roger said, looking at the hologram of the Palace. “Plasma cannon here, here, here, and here. Armored and embedded. ChromSten pillboxes.”

  “Won’t take them out with a one-shot,” Kosutic said. “But they can only be activated by remote command from the security bunker.”

  “Autocannon here and here,” Roger continued.

  “Ditto,” Kosutic replied. “Both of them are heavy enough to take out armor, which we can’t get into the area in the first assault anyway, because the sensors all over the City would start screaming, and the Palace would go on lock-down.”

  “Air defenses,” Roger said.

  “The minute stingers get near the Capital,” Kosutic said, “air defenses all over the place go live. Civilian traffic’s grounded, and the air becomes a free-fire zone. Police have IFF; we might be able to emulate that to spoof some of the defenses. It’s going to be ugly, though. And that ignores the fact that we don’t have stingships. We might have to mount weaponry on those aircars Honal is using for training.”

  “Wouldn’t that be lovely.” Roger grimaced and shook his head. “A formation of Mainly Fantoms going in over the parade . . .”

  “We make the assault in the middle of the parade, and we’re going to cause enormous secondary casualties,” Despreaux pointed out unhappily.

  “It’s still the best chance we have of getting close to the Palace,” Roger replied.

  “And every scenario we’ve run shows us losing,” Kosutic said.

  “And if you ran a scenario of our making it across Marduk?” Roger asked.

  “Different situation, Your Highness,” Kosutic replied firmly. “There, we had zip for advance information on the tactical environment. Here we know the relative abilities, the mission parameters, and most of the variables, and, I repeat, every single model we’ve run ends up having us lose.”

  “I guess you need a new plan, then,” Catrone said from the doorway. Heads snapped around, and his lips curled sardonically as he stripped off the mask he’d been wearing. The two people with him were doing the same.

  “And how did you get in here?” Roger asked calmly, almost conversationally, then glanced at Kosutic. “Son of a bitch, Kosutic!”

  “I’d like to know that, too,” the sergeant major said tightly.

  “We got in the through a well-shielded secret passage . . . the same way we’re getting into the Palace,” Catrone told her. “If you can convince us we should back you.”

  “Sergeant Major Marinau,” Roger said with an extremely thin smile. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  “Hey, dork.” The sergeant major waved casually.

  “That’s Your Highness the Dork, to you, Sergeant Major,” Roger replied.

  “Glad to see you’ve a gotten a sense of humor.” The sergeant major sat at the table. “What happened to Pahner?” he continued, coming right to the point.

  “Killed by Saint commandos,” Kosutic answered as Roger worked his jaw.

  “Now that hasn’t been part of the brief,” Raoux said. “Greenpeace?”

  “Yeah,” Roger said. “The tramp freighter we were jacking turned out to be one of their damned insertion ships . . . and we weren’t exactly at full strength, anymore. Thirty remaining marines. They all got pinned down in the first few minutes. We didn’t know who they were; they didn’t know who we were. It was a pocking mess.”

  “You were there?” Marinau’s eyes narrowed.

  “No,” Roger said flatly. “I was in the assault shuttles, with the Mardukans. Arm—Captain Pahner had pointed out that if I bought it, the whole plan was through. So I was sitting it out with the reserve. But when they found out it was commandos, I had to come in. So, by the end, yeah, I was there.”

  “You took Mardukans in against Greenpeace?” Raoux asked. “How many did you lose?”

  “Fourteen or fifteen,” Roger replied. “It helped that they were all carrying bead and plasma cannon.”

  “Ouch.” Marinau shook his head. “They can handle them? I wouldn’t put them much over being able to use rocks and sticks.”

  “Do not underestimate my companions,” Roger said slowly, each word distinct and hard-edged. “All of you are veteran soldiers of the Empire, but the bottom line is that the Empire hasn’t fought a major war in a century. I don’t know you.” He jabbed a finger at Raoux.

  “Joceline Raoux,” Kosutic told him. “Raiders.”

  “You’re Eva?” Raoux asked. “Long time, Sergeant.”

  “Sergeant Major, Sergeant Major,” Kosutic said with a grin. “Colonel, according to His Highness, but we’ll let that slide.”

  “The point,” Roger said, “is—”

  He paused, then looked at Kosutic.

  “Eva, how many actions did you have, prior to Marduk?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “Sergeant Major Catrone?” Roger asked.

  “A bit more,” the sergeant major said. “Twenty something.”

  “Any pitched battles?” Roger asked. “A battle being defined as continuous or near continuous combat that lasts for more than a full day?”

  “No, except one hostage negotiation. But that wasn’t a battle, by any stretch. Your point?”

  “My point,” Roger said, “is that during our time on Marduk we had, by careful count, ninety-seven skirmishes and seven major battles, one of which had us in the field, in contact, for three days. We also had over two hundred attacks by atul, atul-grack, damncrocs, or other hostile animals which penetrated the perimeter.”

  He paused and looked at the three NCOs for a long, hard moment, and then bared his teeth.

  “You may think you’re the shit, Sergeants Major, but you aren’t worth the price of a pistol bead compared to one of my troops, is that clear?”

  “Easy, Roger,” Eleanora said.

  “No, I won’t be easy. Because we need to be clear on this from the beginning. Eleanora has been in the middle of more battles than all three of you put together. From the point of view of combat time, I’ve got everyone in this room—except Eva—beat. Yes, we took on a Saint commando company. In their ship. And we smashed their ass. They didn’t have enough people left to bury their dead. And compared to a couple of things we did on Marduk, it was a pocking picnic. Don’t try to treat us like cherries, Sergeants Major. Don’t.”

  “You’d used that sword before on those damnbeasts,” Catrone said evenly.

  “We had to walk across a planet,” Despreaux said angrily. “You can’t carry enough ammunition. The plasma guns blew up. And the damned atul just kept coming!” She shook her head. “And the Kranolta, and the Boman. The Krath. Marshad . . .”

  “Sindi, Ran Tai, and the flar-ke,” Roger said. “That damned coll fish . . . We have a little presentation, Sergeants Major. It’s sort of the bare-bones of what happened, call it an after-action report. It takes about four hours, since it covers eight months. Would you care to view it?”

  “Yeah,” Marinau said after a moment. “I guess maybe
we’d better see what could take a clotheshorse jackass and . . . make him something else.”

  Roger left after the first thirty minutes. He’d been there the first time, and he’d watched the presentation once already. Adventures are only fun if they happen to someone else a long way away. Someday he might be able to just kick back and tell the stories. But not yet.

  Despreaux followed him out, shaking her head.

  “How did we do it, Roger?” she said softly. “How did we survive?”

  “We didn’t.” Roger put his arm around her. “The people who went into that cauldron didn’t come out. Some bodies came out, but their souls stayed there.” He looked at her and kissed the top of her head, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair. “You know, I keep saying we need to do this for the Empire. And every time I do, I lie.”

  “Roger—”

  “No, listen to me. I’m not doing this because I want the Throne. I’m doing this because I owe a debt. To you, to Kostas, to Armand, to Ima Hooker.”

  He frowned and tried to find the words.

  “I know I need to protect myself, that it’s all on my shoulders. But I don’t want to. I feel like I need to protect you.” His arm tightened around her. “Not just you, Nimashet Despreaux, but Eva, and Julian, and Poertena. We few who remain. We few who saw what we saw, and did what we did. You’re all . . . special to me. But to do that, I have to do the rest. Rescue Mother—and, yes, I want to do that. I want Mother to be well. But I need to do the rest so you can be safe. So that you don’t wake up every morning wondering if today they’re going to come for you. To do that, I have to protect the Empire. Not a fragment, not a piece, not a remnant—the Empire. So that it’s wrapped around you few like a blanket. And to do that, yes, I have to survive. I have to safeguard myself. But I think first about . . . we few.”

  “That’s . . . crazy,” Despreaux said, tears in her eyes.

  “So I’m crazy.” Roger shrugged. “Like I said, none of us survived.”

  “Well, that’s enough of that,” Raoux said, stepping into the corridor. She paused. “Oh, sorry.”

  “We were just discussing motivations,” Roger said.

  “Must have been a pretty intense discussion,” Raoux said, looking at Despreaux.

  “My motivation is pretty intense,” he replied.

  “I can see why,” Raoux said. “I left when that . . . thing melted one of the troops.”

  “Talbert.” Roger nodded. “Killerpillar. We figured out how to avoid them, and the poisons turned out to be useful.” He shrugged. “You should have stuck around. You didn’t even get to the Mohinga.”

  “The Mohinga?” Raoux’s eyebrows rose. “That’s a training area in Centralia Province. One nasty-assed swamp.”

  “We had one of our own.” Roger looked at Despreaux. “Before Voitan, remember?”

  “Yes,” Despreaux said. “I thought it was bad. Until Voitan gave a whole new perspective to the word ‘bad.’”

  “Hey, you got to save my life. I still remember that really clear view of your butt. I thought I liked you before, but all I could think about all the time was what that butt looked like.”

  “Hell of a time to think of that!” Despreaux said angrily.

  “Well, it was a very nice-looking butt.” Roger smiled. “Still is, even if it’s a bit . . . rounder.”

  “Fatter.”

  “No, not fatter, very nice . . .”

  “Excuse me.” Raoux folded her arms. “You guys want to get a room?”

  “So, are we going to get your support?” Roger asked sharply. His smile disappeared, and he turned his head, locking onto her eyes. “From the Association?”

  “Associations,” Raoux said, turning slightly aside. “Plural.”

  The prince’s expression, the way he moved and looked at her, reminded her uncomfortably of a bird of prey. Not an eagle, which had a certain majesty to it. More like a falcon—something that was no more than a swift, predatory shape wrapped around a mind like a buzz saw.

  “We just call ourselves the clans,” she continued. “Raider Association. Special Operations Association. Empress’ Own Association. Lots of intermingling, what with people like Tomcat.”

  “All of them?” Roger asked.

  “Why do you think I’m here?” Raoux countered. “I was never in the Pretty-Boy Club.”

  “And are we going to get the support?” Roger pressed.

  “Probably. Marinau was a holdout, probably because he knew you. But if he can sit through that . . . briefing from Hell, I don’t think he’ll hold out for long. People change.”

  “That’s what we were talking about,” Roger said quietly. “I was just explaining to Nimashet that none of us got off Marduk alive, not really. Not the people that landed. We’ve all changed.”

  “Some for the worse,” Despreaux said in a low voice.

  “No,” Roger said sternly. “You’re my conscience, my anchor. You can’t be my conscience and my sword. I’ve got people who can hold guns and pull triggers, and I can find more of them, if I have to. But there’s only one you, Nimashet Despreaux.”

  “He’s got a point,” Raoux said. “And don’t sweat combat fatigue—not after what I just watched. Anyone ever got hammered big time, it was you people. You’ve earned a change of duty assignments, and you’ve got your part to play.”

  “I suppose,” Despreaux said.

  “So what, exactly, are you bringing to the table?” Roger asked.

  “Wait for the others,” Raoux replied.

  It didn’t take long for Marinau to leave the room, as well, and Catrone followed shortly thereafter. Of the three NCOs, only Catrone was smiling.

  “Christ,” he said. “I wish I’d been there!”

  “You would.” Raoux shook her head. “You like nightmares.”

  “Okay, I’m convinced,” Marinau said. “I kept looking for the special effects. There weren’t any; that was real.”

  “As real as it gets,” Roger said, his face hard.

  Marinau cleared his throat, shook his head, and finally looked at the prince.

  “I’m in,” he said, still shaking his head. “But do you think you could have shown just a little bit of that when I was in charge?” he asked plaintively. “It would have made my job . . . well, not easier. More satisfying, I guess.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have always shucked my guards when I went hunting,” Roger said with a shrug. “But you all sounded like flar-ta in the woods.”

  “I’ll tell you a secret,” Marinau said, shame-faced. “We all figured it was your guides doing the hunting, and that you were just showing off and bringing back the heads. Shows how wrong I can be. And I’m man enough to admit it. I’m in.”

  “Raiders are in,” Raoux said.

  “Special Ops is in,” Catrone said. “But only if we get a chance to get stuck in with some of those Mardukans. And I want the Earl of New Madrid. I’m going to spend the rest of my natural life torturing him to death. There’s this thing you can do with a steel-wire waistcoat and a rock—”

  “We’ll discuss it,” Roger said sternly. “Okay, back to the conference room.”

  “Here’s the thing,” Catrone said, when the playback had been turned down. Roger left the video playing, though, as a less than subtle point. “You know who the Strelza were, Your Highness?”

  “No,” Roger said.

  “Yes,” Despreaux, Kosutic, and Eleanora replied.

  “What am I missing?” Roger asked.

  “We got it on our in-brief to the Regiment,” Despreaux told him, frowning at a distant memory. “Russian troops.”

  “Okay, ever heard of the Praetorian Guard?” Catrone asked.

  “Sort of.” Roger nodded. “Roman.”

  “Both the same thing,” Catrone said.

  “Not exactly,” Eleanora said. “The Praetorians were originally Caesar’s Tenth Legion, and—”

  “For my point, they are,” Catrone said, annoyed. “Both of them were guard forces for their respect
ive Emperors. The equivalent of the Empress’ Own. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Roger said.

  “And both of them ended up deciding that they got to choose who was Emperor.”

  “I begin to see your point,” Roger said.

  “The Empress’ Own is weeded really hard,” Marinau said. “You can’t just be able, you have to be . . . right.”

  “Pretty boys,” Raoux said with a smile.

  “That, too,” Marinau agreed with a shrug. “But pretty boys that aren’t going to be kingmakers. In a lot of ways, we’re deliberately . . . limited. Limited in size—”

  “And never up to full strength,” Catrone interjected.

  “And limited in firepower,” Marinau continued. “Home Fleet can take us out anytime.”

  “If they want to kill the Empress,” Roger said.

  “True. But the point is that we can be taken down,” Marinau said. “For that matter, garrison troops from outside NorthAm could do it the hard way, if they were prepared to lose enough bodies. As that bastard Adoula demonstrated.”

  “Some of this was deliberately set up by Miranda MacClintock,” Catrone said.

  “Who was one seriously paranoid individual,” Marinau added.

  “And a scholar,” Eleanora pointed out. “One who knew the dangers of a Praetorian Guard. And while it’s true you can be taken out, you’re also the only significant Imperial ground force allowed on this entire continent. The brigade that attacked the Palace was a clear violation of Imperial regulations.”

  “But Miranda set up other things, too,” Catrone said, waving that away. “This, for example.” He gestured around himself at the facility. “You notice we’re surrounded by skyscrapers, but none of them are here?”