Conquest and Empire (Stellar Conquest Series Book 5)

by David VanDyke

  Ezekiel turned to Colson. “What Trissk means is, you seem to be under the impression that we are bargaining. We’re not. You’re a politician. You should be able to recognize that when you hold no cards, the game is over. If you’re smart, you’ll pick up your chips and be happy to play another day.”

  Colson sniffed. “Nice image, but how do you figure I hold no cards?”

  “List them, then,” Ezekiel challenged.

  “First and most important, the will of the people here.”

  “That’s the only card I might admit you have, but their sentiments are debatable. Right now, data on the situation back at Earth is being downloaded directly to the civilian nets rather than through your tame, state-controlled media. Soon, they might not think the way you want them to.”

  Colson growled, “Then there’s the military, which is answerable to me. I’m the civilian authority here.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Governor,” Ezekiel replied, “but we’ve already spoken to Admiral Mirza, and he’s eager to reconnect with EarthFleet. You see, the loyalty of military folks to the common people and Earth’s Constitution doesn’t change with who gets elected.”

  “Sometimes it does,” Colson spat.

  “Perhaps. But not in this case.”

  “The Ryss will fight, then, and the Desolator ships are stronger than anyone else.”

  Ezekiel shook his head slowly. “Desolator is father to all of the other ships, their Ryss elder and thus their commanding officer, and he declared himself loyal to EarthFleet. Trissk, as he correctly pointed out, is Eldest among the organic Ryss. But even if they decided to join a Ryss rebellion, why should they back you as leader of humans? No, Governor. This meeting is your chance to fall in line and play the part of the loyalist to the Crown. If you walk out of it and try to push your separatist agenda, you’ll be igniting a civil war that you can’t win…and you might cause enough disruption that we won’t be prepared for the next attack of the Scourge.”

  “We fought them off once,” Colson blustered. “In fact, from what I can see, we have a lot more military force in this system than Earth has. You need our help, not vice-versa. Maybe you can’t afford that civil war, whereas we can.”

  Ezekiel looked around at the seven men and women of the cabinet, meeting the eyes of each in turn, trying to gauge their temperaments. “Is this what you want?” he asked them, pointedly ignoring Governor Colson. “Millions more dead, fighting among ourselves while the Scourges prepare to wipe us out?”

  “It’s not their decision: it’s mine!” Colson snapped.

  “I thought you were a democracy,” Ezekiel said mildly. “If you want them to toe your line, how can you refuse to do the same for Markis? Be smart, Governor. Better half a loaf than none at all.”

  Colson looked left and right to check on how his people were responding. One, a slim, intense man, leaned over to lay a hand on Colson’s arm and whisper in his ear.

  “Could you give us a few minutes, gentlemen,” Colson said, rising. “You’ll have our answer as soon as we’ve discussed the situation among ourselves.”

  “Of course.” Ezekiel rose as well, leading the other two out of the room.

  After a long fifteen minutes, during which Ezekiel’s superb hearing caught snippets of heated debate through the thick door, the three were ushered back in.

  Colson’s manner had turned conciliatory, and he clasped all their hands one after another. “We’ve discussed it among ourselves, and of course we’ve come to the inevitable conclusion that Earth and its empire must remain united for the duration of the crisis. We’ll accept your authority until the bugs have been defeated, and revisit questions of greater autonomy after that.”

  Ezekiel returned a magnanimous smile, now that he’d won. “I knew you were a reasonable man, Governor, and I’m sure we can move forward in a spirit of mutual cooperation. Good day, for now.”

  After the three had boarded a spacious ground car for their next meeting, Trissk said, “That went easier than I expected.”

  “It’s always helpful to have a man on the inside,” Ezekiel replied, examining his fingernails.

  “The advisor?”

  “The right word in the right ear.”

  “What hold do you have over him?”

  Ezekiel smiled. “No hold…but he is my son. His name is John Smith.”

  “Ah. Not Denham?”

  “His mother’s name. I left behind a few dozen children here by several women, all Blends, of course. Most have chosen not to wear the yellow. In this case, not being overtly connected to me has its benefits.”

  “The better to blend in!” Bogrin said, guffawing at his own wordplay.

  “So they are the power behind the throne,” said Trissk. “But why did this crisis even come into being, with your people there to influence things?”

  “I didn’t say they were unsympathetic to the idea of independence. Eventually, I’m sure they’ll demand greater autonomy, but for now, they saw reason.”

  ***

  Ezekiel wasn’t entirely certain what to expect from the meeting with the Ryss, but Trissk had made him and Bogrin promise not to interfere, only to support the elder firmly, no matter what happened.

  Thus, it was with some difficulty that Ezekiel held his peace when Trissk knocked the Ryss Elder Kassk across the room with a cuff of one enormous paw.

  “You are no longer Eldest of the Nation of New Ryss,” Trissk roared. “I claim the title by right of combat and of seniority. My mane grew long and I glorified my first female before your testicles dropped, Kassk, and I remain in my prime.” He held his paws out wide, claws extended. “Do any of you deny this?”

  Kassk rolled to his feet, a graying warrior but still a potent one, taken by surprise the first time, but clearly not again. “Your body is in its prime only because of life code tinkering, apostate! True Ryss do not accept such crutches. If not for this perversion, you would be long in your grave.”

  The other four of the Council of Elders extended their claws as well, and Ezekiel wondered whether Trissk’s approach would get him killed. The human kept his hands within his own sleeves, one holding a pulse pistol, only to be used if he and Bogrin became the target of Ryss wrath. He’d promised not to interfere, after all.

  “I have accepted no life code tinkering whatsoever,” Trissk snarled. “Feel free to test my blood – if you can spill it!”

  Kassk leaped, and there came a flurry of clawed paws Ezekiel could not follow. At the end, the old warrior lay dying upon the floor, his throat torn out.

  Wounds marked Trissk as well. Lines of slashes scored his flanks, dripping red upon the floor. “There is my blood,” he said, gesturing contemptuously. “Sample and test it. I am alive because of physics, the time compression of the speed of light, not because of biological cheating…and I am now Eldest!”

  The four others there bowed their heads and retracted their claws. One female reached down to soak a cloth in the red fluid. “The truth shall be known,” she said, wrapping it tight and slipping it into her robe.

  Trissk nodded. “Go, then. We meet tomorrow, when you are confident I am clean.”

  ***

  The next day, Trissk met alone with his new Council of Elders, free of the herbivore and the ape looking over his shoulder. If he were truly to take charge of his people, he would have to do so without seeming to rely on his allies’ constant support.

  “We must leave this place,” Trissk said after ritual greetings had been performed. “If we share a planet not our own, we will never be free.”

  “Some will not go,” said the female Russu, the youngest and perhaps the most flexible-minded of the four others. “I remember my sire and dam, of the stories they told of the homeworld and of the pilgrimage aboard Desolator, but the younger generations…they feel this is their land.”

  “Granted them by the plant-eaters only because it is too cold for their taste,” Trissk replied. “Not taken in battle. Therefore, it is not a home. Only that wh
ich is conquered, paid for in blood, has value. Is that not true?”

  The four bowed their heads in agreement. “Yet,” Russu insisted, “some do not respect the ancient ways. This is inevitable. The young supplant their elders. New drives out old. We cannot hold back the tide of time forever.”

  Trissk paced around Russu, examining her as if she were an animal at auction, yet she remained unperturbed. Turning to the three others, he asked, “What say you? Shall we purge our race of all who will not follow the old ways, or shall we find some accommodation?”

  Another female called Gessir lifted her rheumy eyes to his, yet without fear. “Kassk held back the tide. This was his right as Eldest. Will you do the same? We are not our parents. The Ryss must change. Already we have accepted the machine minds as equal to, even greater than, our own. If artificial beings can call themselves Ryss, what might organic Ryss become?”

  Trissk half-turned, staring at the unadorned wall of the council chamber. “My sire died before I knew him, but Elder Chirom treated me like his own son. He was wise enough to confront those who wished to remain aboard Desolator, forever wandering the stars, and lead those pitiful few of us who remained onto the soil of a planet once again. Because of him, we are now millions instead of hundreds.”

  Turning back, Trissk continued in a voice of steel. “But I would become billions once again, even trillions. Our race once held three hundred systems before the Meme came. We were great, and we will be great once again. But we will not be great by cowering on this world not our own, nor will we gain honor by pissing on the hospitality of those who made us guests in their houses.”

  “Then what shall we do?” Russu asked without heat. “You have taken the mantle of leadership upon yourself; therefore, lead us.”

  “First, the Council will do away with the idiotic taboos that hold our race back. Life code tinkering has not made the Humans into monsters. With their Paradise Epidemic, they live so long we might call them immortal, yet they remain themselves. With nanotechnology, they become stronger than we in body, and with their implanted cybernetics they gain capabilities we can only dream of. If we wish to take our rightful place alongside them, we must not live on their charity. We must prove ourselves their equals.”

  Russu and the others blinked in astonishment. “Accept all of these things at once?” She folded her paws. “What you propose will be disruptive.”

  “You are not horrified? Any of you?”

  The four shook their heads. “We have long discussed the need for change among ourselves,” Russu said. “I am a statistician by training, an analyst of trends. It has been clear to me for a long while that we must adapt or be marginalized by the tide of change all around us.”

  Trissk smiled a closed-mouthed smile. “Then perhaps the Ryss may yet avoid disaster.”

  “By doing what?”

  “First, by rejoining Earth’s empire…for a time. We owe them a warrior’s duty for saving us from extinction. We shall cooperate and we shall fight the Scourge for the good of all. But I understand how the laws of the human empire work, and I have a plan for our future that will free us again.”

  Chapter 11

  “I’ll send Demolisher back to Earth to bolster the defenses there,” Admiral Mirza said to the three viceroys from across the desk of his new office aboard Detonator. “After Desolator, he’s the best we have, and I’ll make sure he’s fully repaired and loaded with Ryss warriors.”

  “You’re not coming along like you wanted?” Ezekiel asked.

  Mirza sighed. “I’d love to, but the political situation here is too fragile. With Trissk and Desolator leaving for parts unknown, were I to go as well, the whole thing might fall apart. EarthFleet is really all that’s holding us together, and I’m the most senior officer. I’m just starting to get some Ryss flag officers back.”

  Ezekiel glanced at Bogrin and Mirza, and then up at the ceiling, as if to inquire about the Detonator AI’s discretion.

  “Ryss AIs keep their confidences,” Mirza said. “It’s part of their oaths to EarthFleet and commissions as officers, and I’ve found them to be more scrupulous than most organics in observing the fine points of military law. Everything said here, stays here.”

  “Okay,” Ezekiel responded. “I was going to make a comment about how clever you are to load up millions of young Ryss warriors aboard each of the two superdreadnoughts and get them out of this star system. That should relieve some of the pressure.”

  “I did it for military reasons,” Mirza said firmly.

  “Which, as we’ve already established, are ultimately indistinguishable from political ones. After all, you could have sent Sekoi and humans along too.”

  Mirza pressed his lips together in irritation. “Viceroy Denham, you seem to be making me out to be a cold-hearted bastard, sacrificing Ryss lives instead of humans or Sekoi. I assure you, I thought this out. First, mixing large contingents of three race’s warriors might exacerbate their conflicts. Second, kilo for kilo, Ryss are the most effective close combat troops we have, other than full-cyber Marines, and I don’t have tens of millions of those hanging around. Third, the D-ships are Ryss at heart, with Ryss captains. Ryss warriors will take direction from them without difficulty.”

  Ezekiel held up forefending palms. “All right, Admiral, I yield. And don’t worry; I’ll take back your dispatches and give them personally to Admiral Absen for you. That will get me out of your hair – assuming you can handle Colson without me?”

  Mirza snorted. “That weasel? Now that we’re clearly under martial law again, I’ll have him brigged if he gives me trouble. And if he’s not amenable to intimidation, I’m sure the Sekoi can exert enough economic pressure to bring him and the human government into line.”

  Bogrin nodded. “The planetary economy is sufficiently intertwined that if my people decide to, they can bankrupt the humans…if necessary. Of course, we would much rather not.”

  “Rochambeau,” Ezekiel said.

  “What?” asked Mirza.

  “Rock-paper-scissors. Our three races each hold power over others. EarthFleet is commanded by humans. The Ryss Dominator-class ships hold the ultimate military power, and the Sekoi run the economy by virtue of numbers and nativity.”

  “That is why this arrangement will function…at least as long as there is an external threat,” Bogrin said.

  “I doubt the Scourges are going away anytime soon, so let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” Ezekiel replied. “And, if you have any real trouble, talk to Colson’s advisor, John Smith. I think you’ll find him a reasonable man. For now, I agree with the admiral. Bogrin, you stay with your homeworld, I’ll take Roger aboard Demolisher to mine, and Trissk and Desolator will head for theirs.” He stood to shake their hands. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. See you on the other side.”

  ***

  “Welcome aboard, Viceroy Denham,” Demolisher said as Ezekiel stepped onto the portside flight deck of the superdreadnought.

  “My title is a convenience. I’m really not cut out for politics, so call me Ezekiel, please,” the human said, looking around.

  The enormous open space seemed much more shipshape than Desolator’s had, with neat rows of grabships, shuttles, assault sleds and pinnaces bolted in place. No flight crew roamed the deck, though a few maintenance bots scurried here and there, completing final preparations before the great ship dove into the orange star of Gliese 370.

  “And you may call me Demolisher,” the AI’s resonant voice spoke in Ezekiel’s ear.

  “I’d be surprised at any other name,” Ezekiel replied. “You sound just like Desolator.”

  “He is my father, after all.”

  “If you put it that way…makes sense. When do we get under way?”

  “A soon as you are in a sleep tube. There is one in your quarters, or there are several scattered throughout the ship, including some on the bridge. Alternately, the infirmary has facilities available if you would like medical staff nearby.”

 
“I’m a Blend, so I’m not worried about the process. My quarters would be fine.”

  A small open car rolled up. “Please board.”

  “Sure.” Ezekiel sat in one of the seats, his travel bag in his lap. “Remember, Roger is alive. He’s pretty tough, but don’t try to weld anything to him. He might take exception and hurt someone. Just strap him down to the deck. I’ve set up a sedation system accessible by bioradio.” He tapped the hinge of his jaw where the implant resided.

  “Of course, Ezekiel.” The car rolled smoothly across the deck, weaving among the small craft to enter a wide corridor.

  “I still can’t get over how much space you have inside,” Ezekiel said.

  “My interior volume exceeds Conquest’s by a factor of approximately three hundred.”

  “How’s that possible? You’re only about twenty times the tonnage.”

  “My armor is only slightly thicker than Conquest’s. Have you ever seen a black walnut?”

  Surprised by the change of topic, Ezekiel said, “I’m not sure.”

  “A black walnut is the size of the common English walnut, but its shell is thick. A twenty-five gram black walnut yields about a gram of meat, while an English walnut of the same size yields over twenty grams.”

  “I think I see what you’re getting at. Conquest has a relatively small crew space compared to a Dominator class ship because its armor is relatively thick compared to its size.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Conquest is rated for a crew of thirty thousand, though that’s pushing it. How many organics are aboard you?”

  “Over ten million, of which fifteen thousand could be considered crew. The rest are Ryss warriors.”

  “Good God. And they’ll fit?”

  “Of course…for a limited period of time. Foodstuffs will be problematic after approximately one month of operations, but by that time I will either be resupplied or they will have disembarked.”

  “Disembarked where?” Ezekiel asked.