“My officers and I will be pleased to accept your gracious invitation,” Derinuus said. “I hope I may beg your indulgence concerning the timing, as first it will be necessary to deal with the rebellion on the planet’s surface.”
Severin viewed the message several times, hoping to gain an understanding of how Derinuus planned to handle the rebellion, but he found himself unable to read the gray frozen Daimong face with its round black-on-black eyes and the gaping, motionless mouth with its rigid bony lips. The resonant Daimong voice was pitched in a neutral tone.
In the absence of context, Severin thought, it was all too easy to assume the worst. He decided to send another message.
“I hope our dinner won’t be too long delayed,” he said. “If you have received instructions from the Convocation concerning Rol-mar, I will be honored to offer my assistance and that of my ship. Expedition has just undocked from the elevator terminal, and I’ve spoken with several of the officials on the terminal concerning the situation on the planet. I would be happy to brief you on the latest developments, should you require more information.”
In retrospect Severin felt this message was hardly his best and did little but show his own desperation. He could hope that Derinuus would find him as unreadable as Severin had found the Daimong captain.
He spent the next half hour viewing Derinuus’s service record, but he found that as unenlightening as everything else. Derinuus had been promoted to lieutenant-captain during the war and given a frigate, but the end of his shakedown cruise coincided with the end of the war, so Derinuus saw no action. In due course he’d been promoted to junior captain and given Beacon and had been on his way to join the Fourth Fleet at Harzapid when diverted to Rol-mar. His going straight from one ship to another suggested he had a patron in the service, but there was no indication who that patron might be.
So far as Severin could tell, it was a complete coincidence that he was here at all.
Severin’s frustrating search through the records was interrupted by a response from Derinuus.
“Your offer of assistance is noted, and you have my thanks, but it’s hardly necessary. The question is only whether the planet remains in rebellion, and I will make that determination on arrival.”
Severin stared at the blank gray Daimong face and felt his heart sink. He looked at the chronometer at his desk and realized that Beacon would enter orbit in less than thirty-three hours.
He spent the next hour viewing regulations and ordinances regarding civil disorder, then sent messages to his four lieutenants asking them to come to his dining room. He then had his steward make coffee and tea and bring fried dumplings that filled the room with the sharp scent of garlic.
Expedition was a new ship that broadcast its newness: clean fresh paint, undented metal trim, flooring not yet worn by thousands of shoes. Severin hadn’t personalized the ship’s decor as did other captains, with their special hand-painted tiles, exotic wood trim, eye-catching color schemes, and artwork—for one thing, he wasn’t rich, and he had to stay within the budget the Exploration Service had provided. He had made a virtue of necessity and adopted the clean lines of the Devis mode, with simple white and dark geometric shapes broken here and there by abstract bits of color. Instead of paintings or etchings or tile, he filled his own personal space with video screens showing a rotating series of astronomical scenes: the torus-shaped wormhole at Protipanu Two; the lacy bloodred Maw looming over Protipanu’s small white sun; the four giant stars in their fatal spiral around the supermassive black hole at the center of the galaxy.
Astronomical scenes were also prominent in Severin’s dining room. It was large enough to seat eight if people were careful not to scrape the walls, but he had only four guests and Severin was able to order the table to swallow one of its leaves and permit his guests plenty of elbow room. The table, chairs, and other furniture were smart enough to cling to the floor when gravity was absent, and the chairs were smart enough to adjust themselves to their guests. Which was lucky for the premiere lieutenant, Lord Chungsun Cleghorne, who was very short, and whose chair boosted him to eye level with the others.
Severin sipped the fragrant green cloud that was his tea, then placed the cup back in its saucer and began the meeting.
“I’m looking for your counsel and, I hope, your cooperation,” he said. “We have a situation developing between the planet and the Beacon.”
With that, he replaced the astronomical art on one of his screens and played the messages he’d sent to Derinuus, and the Daimong’s replies.
“What do we think of that?” he asked.
Lord Chungsun frowned at the screen. “So will we be having guests for dinner or not?” he asked.
There was a moment of silence. “I believe,” said Second Lieutenant Cressida Toupal, “the captain wanted our thoughts on whether or not there’s going to be a massacre on Rol-mar.”
“Can we see the messages again?” said the Third. “I can’t read Daimong faces at all.”
Severin played the videos again. There was an uncomfortable silence afterward, broken only by the sound of the Fourth pouring herself more coffee.
“I think Lord Oh is determined to make a name for himself,” said Toupal. “Vijana got a promotion and the thanks of the Convocation for putting down the Yormaks, and all the Naxid War heroes are ahead of Lord Oh in seniority and achieving promotion.” She tossed her curly hair. “Kill rebels, get a prize. It’s a simple equation.”
Lord Chungsun frowned again and touched his mustache. “Well,” he said, “they are in rebellion down there.”
“The Naxids and the Yormaks attacked us!” Toupal said. “The people on Rol-mar haven’t attacked anyone, and they don’t have any weapons.”
“I’d think it would be a matter for the police,” said the Third. “Not for missiles with antimatter warheads, which is what Beacon’s got.”
Severin looked at the screen with its frozen face of Derinuus. “The question is whether Lord Oh has instructions from the Convocation to bombard the settlers from orbit,” he said. “If he does, then the word of the Convocation is all the justification he needs. But if he doesn’t have an order from the Convocation to kill citizens of the empire, then we’re left with another question—are we obliged to intervene to protect those citizens?”
The discussion that followed was prolonged, and—on the part of Lieutenant Toupal—heated. Severin called onto the display relevant texts from the law and regulations, which served mainly to confuse the matter. Finally Severin brought an end to the debate.
“It’s ultimately my decision,” he said. “I don’t know yet what I’m going to do, because I don’t know what Captain Derinuus intends.” He looked from one of his officers to the other. “However,” he said, “I’d like to know whether, if I find it necessary to act in defense of the settlers, I can count on your support.”
Lord Chungsun looked at him in blank surprise. “You’re the captain, my lord. Of course I’ll support you.”
Officers were normally referred to as “my lord” whether or not they happened to be Peers, and Severin had always found it both strange and encouraging to be called a lord by an actual Peer. He was granted an equivalence with the elite of the empire, but the equivalence was both conditional and temporary, and he never knew how to value it.
At the moment, though, its value was quite high. “Thank you, Lord Chungsun,” he said.
Once the premiere showed his support, the other officers fell quickly into agreement.
“Well, then,” said Severin. “Let’s refresh our cups, and I’ll call up the tactical display. We’ll try to see if we can work out a way to handle this problem that doesn’t involve bloodshed.”
Beacon ended its deceleration burn and fell into orbit on schedule. Severin placed Expedition a respectful distance behind Beacon, as if to support Derinuus, and instructed Pilot Liu to keep Beacon within line of sight.
Derinuus began his broadcast within minutes of taking up station.
&n
bsp; “I am Captain Lord Oh Derinuus of the cruiser Beacon, and I have been sent to resolve the situation on Rol-mar. There can be no dispute that the planet is in a state of rebellion. I have but one message: if the rebels do not return to their obedience by 14:01 hours tomorrow, and surrender unconditionally, they will be annihilated.”
The message was repeated every few minutes for the next hour. Severin watched the expressionless gray face deliver the bloodthirsty message three times and stared into black-on-black eyes that looked like pits extending into the darkness of Derinuus’s skull. The exquisite subtlety of which the Daimong vocal apparatus was capable was not in evidence, and Derinuus’s tone was harsh and bombastic. Severin put on his blue uniform coat and asked to speak to Derinuus directly—now that Beacon was within less than a light-second they could have an actual conversation rather than send messages back and forth.
“Yes, Lord Captain?” Derinuus said. “I hope this will not take long—we are very busy here.”
“You have promised to annihilate the settlers,” Severin said.
“To annihilate the rebels,” Derinuus corrected.
“As you like,” Severin said. “What I would like to know, Lord Captain, is whether this annihilation has been authorized by the Convocation.”
Unwinking light shone in the unwinking eyes. “Authorization was not necessary. I am an officer of the Fleet with a duty to eradicate the enemies of the Praxis, and I will carry out that duty as I see fit.”
“Is your intended action authorized by the Fleet, then? By Lord Tork?”
There was a slight hesitation before Derinuus’s answer. “My authorization may be found in imperial law and in Fleet regulations. At such a distance from the Commandery, I can hardly await their decision on every urgent matter.”
“But, Lord Captain, you could have,” said Severin. “You spent days in your deceleration burn, and there was more than enough time for a query to reach the Commandery and return. Did you make such a query?”
“It was unnecessary.” Flatly. “I was sent here on special assignment to deal with the situation. Implicit was the understanding that I may act as I see fit against rebels, otherwise there was no point in sending me at all.”
Kill rebels, get a prize. It’s a simple equation.
“Captain,” said Severin, “calling them ‘rebels’ may be stretching the term. They are not in arms against the government. They have offered no violence, and they have no store of weapons.”
“They defy their superiors. That is rebellion in any meaningful sense of the term, and rebellion is forbidden by the Praxis.”
“Captain, you plan to use missiles against the settlements?”
“Of course.”
“In addition to loss of life,” Severin said, “there will be enormous property damage. Property that doesn’t belong to the rebels, but to Lady Gruum, or Lord Gonihu, or the contractors who had to abandon their equipment on the planet.”
“Property damage will be minimized,” said Derinuus. “We will remove the tungsten jackets from the warheads, so there will be no fireballs. The missiles will be used as radiation weapons only.”
Thus producing long and agonizing deaths for your victims, Severin thought.
“There will still be shock waves, and substantial property damage,” he said. “And what of the bases of the elevators? The skyhooks aren’t private property, they are owned by the government and under imperial administration.”
Derinuus’s answer was serene. “I will begin the bombardment with settlements other than those beneath the elevators. But if submission is not forthcoming, I will not hesitate to risk imperial property.”
Severin had used up his arguments, and he was finding himself exhausted by futility. “Thank you for your frank admissions, Lord Captain,” he said. “I will take up no more of your time.”
He ended the conversation and hoped that the word admissions might cause Derinuus to wonder if his transmission could be used as evidence against him in some future legal proceeding.
Though probably he would not.
As Severin unbuttoned the collar of his uniform jacket, a solution suddenly swarmed into his mind—not the solution to Derinuus or Rol-mar, but a lingering plot problem in one of his puppet projects. How would Lord Sphere react when he discovered that his mistress, the woman known as the Comador Vampire, had attracted the attentions of his rival, Lord Belletrain-Hoxley-Chalmonderly-Rix-Rax-Drax? He would of course contact the Doyenne, Lady Arbitrage, who would restrain Lord Belletrain-Hoxley-Chalmonderly-Rix-Rax-Drax via the as-yet-unrevealed hold she had over him.
Strange that this resolution should come out of the completely unrelated conversation with Lord Oh Derinuus. Perhaps he had been subconsciously wishing that Lady Arbitrage would arrive at Rol-mar to take charge of the situation.
Oh well. At least something had been resolved.
Wearily, he called up the tactical display and contacted his lieutenants for another meeting.
Severin sent a report to Gareth Martinez even though he knew whatever action he took would be over long before Martinez could view it. If Severin were killed, he hoped Martinez and his family could at least use the report to blacken Derinuus’s name.
Over the following twenty hours Severin was witness to Rol-mar’s idiosyncratic reaction to Derinuus’s ultimatum, a contradictory combination of panic, defiance, and indifference. Messages of individual surrender were sent from the planet’s surface, though since those who submitted were still living among large numbers of rebels, their surrender was hardly likely to spare their lives. The sensor crew reported seaworthy vessels heading to sea, no doubt in hopes of being over the horizon by the time the bombs went off. Vehicles struck off into the interior, probably in the same hope. A few thousand people, most with children, tried to flee up the elevators into orbit. Ships cast off from the elevator terminal and were doing their best to get as far away from the planet as possible. Since most of the ships had been intended to evacuate Rol-mar’s settlers, this effectively stranded even those who wanted to get away.
Others on Rol-mar sent a series of truculent, obscene, or insulting messages. It had to be said that Severin’s favorite was “Do your worst, you pie-eyed dwarf,” proudly signed by “Mahmouf Ahmet, former rigger, Corona.”
One of Martinez’s protégés, no doubt.
Most of the settlers seemed to be doing nothing at all. They had grown used to disregarding the orders of higher authority, so they continued to ignore instructions and went about their business.
Severin sent his crew to action stations an hour before Derinuus’s ultimatum was due to expire: all crew in their vac suits and strapped into acceleration cages, damage control robots deployed to areas of maximum vulnerability, and Lord Chungsun, the premiere, at his station in Auxiliary Control ready to take command if Severin and the Command room crew were killed.
Severin took a long breath of air scented with the odor of his suit seals, then took his captain’s key from the elastic band around his wrist and inserted it in his weapons board. “Lieutenant Toupal,” he said, “prepare to turn your key on my mark.” He shifted to the command channel and called Lord Chungsun in Auxiliary Control, then had the premiere insert his own key.
Expedition’s planet-crushing weaponry could only be used if three of its five officers agreed, thus making it impossible for a mad captain to start a war on his own. Though all he’d need, Severin knew, were a couple subordinates who were just as mad as he was.
“On my mark,” Severin repeated. Suddenly his mouth was dry. “Three, two, one, mark.”
He turned the key and his weapons board lit up. This is really happening, he thought.
“Power up point-defense lasers,” he said to Toupal, who was staffing the main weapons board along with a warrant officer. “Power laser range-finders. This is not a drill.”
“Powering lasers, my lord. This is not a drill.”
“Charge missiles in battery one with antimatter. This is not a drill.”
&
nbsp; “Battery one missiles charging, Lord Captain. This is not a drill.”
“Stand by.”
More lights shone on Severin’s weapons board. “Track any missiles fired from Beacon,” he said. “Prepare to destroy them on my order. This is not a drill.”
“Yes, Lord Captain. Not a drill.”
Severin contacted the chief engineer and made certain that the engines were ready to fire when called upon, and then there was nothing to do but wait. Minutes crept by, marked only by the soft sigh of air circulation in Severin’s suit and the murmur of his own heart. To ease the suspense, he tried to work on plot problems for his puppet theater.
When the broadcast came from Derinuus, it almost came as a relief.
“As I have not received proper submission from the rebels on Rol-mar,” Derinuus said, “I will begin the cleansing of the planet.” His voice sounded like metal clanging. It rose to a peak of exultation. “Long live the Praxis!” he cried.
Two missiles launched immediately, carried away from Beacon on chemical rockets. Severin watched their track on his tactical display and saw their antimatter engines ignite once they’d reached a safe distance from the Fleet cruiser.
“Light up those missiles,” Severin said. “Stand by to bring them down.”
“Range-finder operation nominal. Standing by, Lord Captain.”
Severin watched digit counters flashing as they tracked the missiles’ rapidly receding range. When he calculated their destruction would be unlikely to injure Beacon or Expedition, he gave the order to fire the point-defense lasers.
“Missiles destroyed, Lord Captain.” It happened about that fast. In Severin’s display he saw vast blooming radio clouds standing like a white-hot wall between himself and the planet.
The Accidental War Page 26