by David Drake
Two moons of the giant fourth planet might qualify for a base, but one was so close to the primary that the surface was always dangerously unstable. The other was generally suitable, but the availability of liquid water limited the possible landing places.
She continued to search. This was Daniel’s field and he’d certainly considered the relevant factors. Still, information was her business, even when it was redundant or apparently pointless.
“The crews of the lighter vessels won’t mutiny while the Triomphante remains solid,” said Daniel with a brusque gesture. “I’ll vouch for the cruiser’s crew. For that matter, I’ll vouch for the Katchaturian. Admiral, I think your personnel are of better quality than you do.”
Christopher Robin had said nothing. Now he turned to Adele, who was focused on the data scrolling across her holographic display. He said, “Lady Mundy, what in your opinion should we do at this point? What should the Tarbell government’s action be?”
Adele didn’t look away from her display, but a twitch of her wands inset the Minister’s real-time image into a panorama of the surface of a moon in the Ithaca system. She wasn’t so much gathering her thoughts as deciding on the phrasing.
Adele smiled minusculely.
* * *
Daniel hadn’t been sure that Adele would look up from her display, but she did. Fixing her eyes on the Minister of War, she said, “I think the Tarbell government should take the course of action their expert recommends. Your expert in this matter is Captain Leary.”
“Of course she’d say that!” Quentin snapped. “Look, I know Leary’s a genius and walks on water, but use your common sense, Minister!”
“Minister, this is your decision of course,” said Bloemfontein, frowning in agitation. “But it seems risky to me, very risky.”
“Your opinions are noted,” said Robin—without looking at his aides, and in a tone that wouldn’t have encouraged Daniel to pursue the conversation. “Now, Lady Mundy: I phrased my question badly. Your record demonstrates your ability to analyze complex situations. On behalf of the government of the Tarbell Stars, please analyze the factors bearing on a government attack into the Ithaca system as Captain Leary outlined.”
Adele looked at Daniel. He met her eyes, grinned, and said, “Please do so, Lady Mundy. I have more experience of your skill than the Minister does—and therefore even more respect for your opinion.”
Adele nodded twice, her eyes returning to her display. From Daniel’s viewpoint it was a colored blur hanging in the air before her. Her wands flickered.
“Admiral Quentin is resentful of being superseded and would probably object to any proposal that comes from Captain Leary,” Adele said. “Nevertheless—”
“Now just because I’m talking sense—” Quentin said.
“Quentin, shut up until I ask for your opinion!” Robin said without taking his eyes off Adele. Though he had sounded calm, even amused, when he talked to Adele, he was obviously keyed up by the situation. “Go on, Lady Mundy.”
“Yes,” said Adele. “Admiral Quentin is nevertheless more experienced in dealing with the quality of spacers to be found in the Tarbell Stars, while Captain Leary’s experience is largely with RCN personnel. And if I might say so, with picked RCN personnel.”
“Most of the Triomphante’s crew is ex-RCN, as I understand?” said Robin.
“The Triomphante’s crew is good material,” Adele said, “but even that ship isn’t properly worked up. In six months under Captain Leary the Triomphante would be as effective as any ship of its class in the human universe, but we’re talking about today.”
Daniel nodded. He was pretty sure that he could bring the cruiser up to full RCN standards in less than six months, but it was a valid point.
“Continue,” said Robin. Quentin and Bloemfontein were watching blank-faced, surprised to realize that Lady Mundy was providing a real analysis. The Minister of War had examined her record, but his aides clearly had not.
“That isn’t the real concern,” Adele said as her wands moved and her display shimmered into a different pattern. “If the strengths of the parties remain as they are at present, Captain Leary will almost certainly bring the rebels to their knees as he expects. The rebels’ off-planet backers cannot allow that to happen, however. Even if it means making their involvement manifest, they will have to change the odds.”
“That’s if they learn of the situation,” Daniel said, frowning slightly. “While nothing is certain, I’m as sure as a human can be that we can prevent any ship from the surface of Ithaca from reaching the Matrix.”
“That may be so,” said Adele, her voice as emotionless as it had been when she described Quentin’s jealousy. “The off-planet backers have sent vessels to Ithaca every seven to ten days since the beginning of the rebellion, however. Even if all incoming couriers are destroyed as soon as they become aware of the blockade, the sudden break in traffic will warn the principals almost as quickly as a message would.”
She looked up, first at Daniel and then to Robin. “I must add,” she said, “that there is a significant possibility that Guarantor Porra is aware of what is going on and that he supports it.”
“The Alliance is behind the rebellion?” Robin snapped.
“Lady Mundy spoke very precisely,” Daniel said, jumping in before Adele could answer herself. She had been on good behavior thus far, but a serious misstatement of her own words might bring a sharper response than the minister was used to getting. “She identified the worst case and said that it was possible. I personally don’t believe that Guarantor Porra is aware of the extent that members of his government might be involved.”
“Yes,” said Adele. “My data suggests that at worst the Guarantor might be willing to back a successful overthrow of the Tarbell government but that he would instantly disown a failure. We need to be sure that the rebellion fails, and that means not putting all our assets in a position to be destroyed by a quick stroke by the rebels with help from within the Alliance.”
“If the Alliance is behind this, we don’t have a chance,” said Bloemfontein, sounding like he was practicing a dirge. “We may as well run now.”
“If we surrender to the Alliance directly,” Quentin said thoughtfully, “we may get better terms than the Upholders would give us. Particularly you, Minister.”
“We haven’t bloody lost!” Daniel said. “Lady Mundy just made the point that we mustn’t give the rebels the easy opening that my plan provided. An excellent point, but it just means that we go at it a different way!”
Robin looked at him. Daniel met the Minister’s eyes calmly. He can dismiss me, but I don’t think he will. If he swings at me—
Daniel grinned. He’d thought, If he swings at me, I’ll pull his arm off and beat him to death with it.
Which suggested that he was getting a little edgy himself. The reminder settled him down.
Robin’s face softened slightly as well. He turned to Adele and said, “Lady Mundy, you’ve outlined the problems with one course of action. What course of action would avoid the risks of the first course?”
“I told you before that I’m not competent to plan a naval campaign,” Adele said sharply. For an instant she seemed about to take both control wands into her right hand, freeing her left. She saw Daniel’s slight frown, nodded to him and smiled minusculely.
“Captain Leary?” she said. “What course of action do you recommend, based on the information now in your possession?”
“I suggest we move on Chevalier with the Tarbell navy and at least half, the better-trained half, of our ground forces,” Daniel said. This had been his first thought after he reached Peltry with the ex-Upholder. “It’s the closest rebel planet which has a real garrison. It’ll provide live-fire training for the ground troops, and it’ll give our fleet—”
The reality was barely a squadron, but this was a sales pitch.
“—experience in working as a unit under combat conditions.”
“A victory on Chevalier woul
d cut the rebels off from their bulk protein,” Quentin said. “That’s why they took it to begin with—the fisheries.”
“And it would be, well, a victory,” said Bloemfontein. “There haven’t been many since the rebellion broke out. For them either, there hasn’t been real fighting.”
“What size is the rebel garrison?” asked Robin.
“About three thousand,” Adele said, back at her display, “according to the figures in the Department of War in Coralville. Half of them are locally-raised and it isn’t clear from the records that they’re all armed.”
“How did you get…?” Quentin began. He understood Daniel’s broad grin and stopped there.
“We’ll have nearly that many troops ourselves,” Daniel said. “Ours will be concentrated, and we’ll have the ships for fire support.”
“How do you mean?” said Robin, frowning but not angry.
“You’ll see,” said Daniel. “I’ll have my own officers demonstrate it first because we practice low-altitude maneuvers, but Chevalier will allow us to train all your crews. Short hops at low altitude aren’t much of a trick.”
That was a bit of an exaggeration, but he was still selling the idea.
“Excellent,” said Robin, nodding. He looked at his aides and said in a harder voice, “I have planning to do, and I presume you gentlemen do also. Shall we get back to the Ministry?”
“I’m going to check the Princess Cecile,” Daniel said. “Lady Mundy, will you join me?”
Adele rose, slipping her data unit and its wands away as she did so. When they were a safe twenty feet from the Tarbell officials, she said, “I’m sorry, Daniel, if I misread your intent.”
“You didn’t,” he said cheerfully. “I directed you to tell the truth, and you did so with the skill of long practice. Frankly, I hadn’t been considering direct Alliance action as being as much of a danger as you’ve convinced me it is. Krychek may really feel that he’s in a corner.”
“Yes,” said Adele. “He has a reputation for taking risks…which is why we’re here in the first place.”
The Princess Cecile was moored directly beyond the cruiser on this long quay. Daniel grinned reflexively as he saw her. His ship.
“And to tell the truth,” he said aloud, “most RCN officers would have been as horrified as Quentin was. I’m glad you said what you did.”
“Most RCN officers…” Adele said. “Don’t have the reputation Captain Daniel Leary does.”
CHAPTER 23
Chevalier
The Princess Cecile thrashed and rattled as Daniel brought her through the atmosphere of Chevalier. The thrusters roared at very close to maximum braking effort. The corvette wasn’t short of reaction mass, and there would be plenty of time to replenish what she used on her descent.
Daniel had set down many times on land rather than water, but he never forgot that it was a less forgiving surface. He was dropping at a more leisurely rate than he would if he had intended to land in the harbor.
Chevalier’s settlement pattern was unique in Daniel’s experience. The northern ice cap spread far toward the equator, while a belt of deep green covered the world’s middle. Between ice and forest was a broad ring ocean bounded by a continent edged with lagoons.
Combrichon was one of the score of fishing communities located on those lagoons. Over a hundred trawlers were based there to harvest the schools of fish which browsed the nutrient-rich Northern Ocean. A branch of the low-speed maglev system connected Combrichon to the trunk line and thence to the capital and starport, Brownsville on Lake Eric, a freshwater sea to the south.
“Adele?” Daniel said, cueing the link. Their descent had stabilized: there was still buffeting, but the ship’s course wouldn’t need adjustment for at least several minutes. “Why isn’t Brownsville on the ocean where most of the population is? The weather? Over.”
“No,” said Adele, as though she had been waiting for the question instead of correlating data gathered by the Sissie’s sensors from when they arrived in Chevalier orbit. “The soil between the ring ocean and the highlands is a bog. Significant structures can’t be safely built there without extensive pilings or being floated. It was simpler to locate the port on Lake Eric and build only shacks and light connector lines in the basin.”
The Princess Cecile was low enough that terrain features were as clear as they could be through the scintillating plasma exhaust. The Northern Ocean lay to port. Near the shore its surface was green and bright blue with algae blooms.
Directly ahead the hull of either the Montclare or the Montcalm glinted above the treetops. Daniel adjusted the thruster angle three degrees forward to brake the Sissie’s forward motion to a shuddering crawl.
“Six,” said Sun on the command link. “There’s tanks moving in the camp. May I lower the ventral turret, over?”
“Negative, Guns,” Daniel said as he opened the throttles slightly and returned the thruster angle to nearly vertical. The corvette moved slowly toward Combrichon, holding at three hundred feet above the rounded treetops. “We’re coming in so low that you’ll be able to use the dorsal guns if there’s really any need, out.”
Lowering the ventral turret would increase buffeting slightly, not a serious concern; slightly increase leakage of hot ions into the lower levels of the stern, also not serious; and risk damage to the High Drive motors on the outriggers. With some gunners that would be a serious danger, but Sun was skillful enough that it wasn’t concern here.
On the other hand, there was no need for the ventral pair of plasma cannon either. Gunners and missileers were proud of their weapons. They got very few opportunities to use them, so they wanted to make the most of those opportunities.
The two transports were in the lagoon, still wreathed in steam from their landing. The ex-Pantellarian destroyer Mindello lay between them and the town, and Schnitker had landed the Katchaturian across the maglev line just south of town. Schnitker had wanted to prove that he knew as much about coming down on dry land as any Cinnabar officer did.
That was probably true, though the boggy soil of northern Chevalier would be as forgiving as a normal slip. In any case the Katchaturian had come down neatly. With her bow turret aimed at Combrichon and the stern guns pointing down the maglev track along which any possible relief would have to come, the destroyer might have been enough by itself to convince the garrison to surrender.
It might have been enough. Daniel wasn’t going to leave the matter to chance.
“Ship,” Daniel warned over the general channel, “prepare for landing. Do not open hatches, spacers. If a few slugs bang off the hull we’re none the worse for it, but an open hatch will give the wogs an aiming point. Six out.”
The Princess Cecile drifted above the western houses of Combrichon. All of them were wood-framed and many were roofed with wooden shakes, but Daniel didn’t think that the corvette’s plasma exhaust three hundred feet up was going to ignite them. If he was wrong, he would regret it—but he wouldn’t lose sleep over the fires.
It was also possible that a brave man below with a stocked impeller could smash one or more of the thrusters while they glowed at high output. That was the reason Daniel hadn’t even considered letting someone else bring the Princess Cecile in on this run. He was confident he could hold the ship against the sudden jolt of a thruster failing.
But it would take a very brave man to hold steady as he aimed into the blaze of white-hot ions.
The Triomphante with the destroyers Alburquerque and Alfonso, sister-ships of the Mindello, were in orbit to deal with any off-planet threat. The ships could also drop onto other communities quickly, but Daniel didn’t see any reason to do that.
The only community more significant than Combrichon was the capital, Brownsville; it had a battery of anti-ship missiles. The Upholder garrisons in the ring of fishing communities kept them loyal, but the villages weren’t really defended.
Kept the communities disloyal, Daniel supposed, since he commanded the Navy of the Tarbell Stars.
He realigned the thrusters vertical as he sphinctered the thruster nozzles open by 10% without reducing the flow of reaction mass. The corvette dropped slowly without ever pausing in a hover.
Daniel had expected somebody to take a shot at them—out of cussedness if not for any military purpose—but the thick steel hull didn’t ring at the impact of a slug. Spraying fiery tree limbs and clods of dirt baked to pebbles, the Princess Cecile landed in the park facing the town hall,. The vegetation had all been ornamental, too slender for a 1200-ton starship to notice as it came down.
If somebody had been picnicking in the park, Daniel sincerely hoped that they’d had sense enough to run as the Sissie came toward them. If they hadn’t, they were probably well out of the gene pool—but he truly would regret it happening.
“Citizens of Combrichon!” Daniel said. “I am Captain Leary of the Tarbell Stars. You will not be harmed if you quietly return your allegiance to the Tarbell government,”
The speakers on the Sissie’s external hull were bellowing out his words, and he knew that Adele was transmitting them through the communications system of not only this town but also the entire planet. Combrichon was a lesson for Chevalier; more important, it was a lesson for the Upholder forces on Chevalier.
“Upholder troops who surrender will be treated according to the laws of war,” Daniel said. “I’m a Leary of Bantry, and I say this on my honor.”
The cooling thrusters and the Sissie’s reentry-heated hull drew a fierce wind off the lagoon, whipping the steam and smoke toward the two-story town hall. At first Daniel didn’t see any human beings in the panorama which filled his display, but then movement and faces appeared at the windows of buildings.
“Some of you troops aren’t rebels at all,” Daniel said. “You’re locals who got drafted when the rebels arrived and handed you guns. Throw your guns in the street and put on your civilian clothes again. If you do that, you’re civilians in my book—but get rid of the guns now.”