To Ride the Chimera

by Kevin Killiany

  “One political concept the Clans find interesting is that of protectorate—worlds autonomous to themselves, under the protection of more powerful states, yet not possessions of those states.”

  “The example of the Oriente Protectorate—”

  “Is a bad one,” Julietta cut him off. “My mother, Duchess Jessica, knows that solidarity of purpose is vital in the current crisis. Unity of response is vital in war, making the complete autonomy of a protectorate’s member worlds impossible.”

  Garith said nothing. He’d intended a subtle reminder that his own world had been annexed by Oriente against its will. He suspected Lady Julietta of tricking him into replying, then cutting him off before he’d made his point.

  “Your world, Lord Garith, has been under the hand of the Oriente Protectorate these last seven months, has it not?”

  What?

  Garith’s mind raced. What could be her purpose in first stopping him from mentioning Oriente’s occupation of Asellus Australis, then bringing it up herself? Whatever game they were playing, Lady Julietta was at least two moves ahead of him. In any case, he could think of no way to avoid her direct question.

  “The hand of Oriente, as you characterize it, has been light, Lady Julietta,” Garith said smoothly. “We simply provided food, facilities and such supplies as the garrisoning forces required, in exchange for the protection they offered against Commonwealth aggression.”

  “The Marik-StewartCommonwealth no longer exists,” Julietta pointed out. “And if you are referring to the LyranCommonwealth, you should be aware that Oriente forces have been stripped away from the Wolf-Lyran front to support the taking of Atreus.”

  “We are aware of the campaign to liberate Atreus from the Regulan Fiefs,” Garith answered, trying to judge where Lady Julietta was bound. “And while the Oriente garrisons on Asellus Australis and Asellus Borealis have been redeployed, my understanding is that the bulk of Oriente forces remain between our worlds and the Wolf and Lyran aggressors.”

  “A blend of Oriente forces, former Marik-Stewart regulars and local militias holding Bedeque, Bainsville and Autumn Wind,” Lady Julietta said. “That is the extent of the Oriente Protectorate’s bulwark against Clan Wolf and the LyranCommonwealth.”

  Garith heard the murmurs sweep through the audience chamber and was hard-pressed not to glance at his wife for reassurance. There was no direct contradiction between the information Lady Julietta presented now and the situation as explained by the commander of the departed garrison, but the impression had been…

  “What of Rasalas?” he asked. “Washburn? Keystone?”

  “Fallback positions. Provisioned, but not garrisoned beyond their own planetary militias.”

  A second wave of murmurs, and this time Garith did look at Joslyn. Her normally rich nutmeg complexion had taken on a sallow tone as she stared at Lady Julietta. Shock had drained all blood from his wife’s face. Not for the first time he wished the damned chairs were placed close enough for him to hold her hand.

  “I do not mean to imply any duplicity on the part of Oriente in this,” Julietta said, as though responding to his thoughts. “Or any immediately pressing threat.”

  No mind reading there. She must know everyone who hears her words is thinking the same thing.

  “The dangers Oriente faces are daunting. Even with the Andurien War winding down, the Protectorate’s forces are stretched in every direction,” Julietta was saying. “Duchess Jessica has placed every soldier she can spare between Asellus Australis and the Wolf-Lyran occupation zone. Her problem is that there simply are not enough troops available to guarantee the safety of the worlds that have come to depend on her.

  “Which is why she came to us.”

  Us? Garith’s ears pricked at the pronoun. Lady Julietta of Marik. Marik the planet. She’s declaring herself separate from her mother.

  “I had assumed,” he said carefully, “that Marik was a part of the Oriente Protectorate.”

  “An assumption shared by many.” Julietta nodded. “Logical, on the face of it, but false. That assumption may have influenced Oriente’s decision to call upon us for help in this time of overextension.

  “You are aware Clan Spirit Cat was asked to provide protection for several worlds while the forces that had stood garrison were deployed elsewhere?”

  “For the duration of the campaign to liberate Atreus, yes,” Garith said. “Am I to infer from what you have shared that you are now proposing something different?”

  Lady Julietta smiled.

  On other worlds, deals like the one Garith thought he saw lurking in her eyes were struck in private, unacknowledged meetings. But the leaders of Asellus Australis were renowned for the transparency of their rule. There would be no closed doors, no clandestine negotiations here. What needed to be discussed needed to be discussed in the presence of the people it affected most.

  He’d seen ambassadors and emissaries and world leaders balk at that requirement. He suspected that it had cost Australis many lucrative deals. But he also knew his people were better and more honestly served because the tradition was in place.

  And now, for the first time that he could recall, in Lady Julietta was someone who seemed to genuinely approve of the practice.

  “No one outside of Clan Sea Fox knows the extent of their trading empire,” she said, opening with an observation that seemed in no way related to what had gone before. “Yet both the size of their mysterious fleet and their ability to deal with anyone for anything is legendary.”

  No response suggested itself, so Garith remained silent.

  “Etgar speaks for Clan Sea Fox, on behalf of his ovKhan Petr Kalasa.”

  The holovid costume hero stepped forward, his shoulder a hand span higher than the top of Julietta’s head.

  He’s not an elemental, Garith realized. He’s just a big man.

  “We’ve familiarized ourselves with your world’s agricultural exports.” His voice was a surprising tenor. “What you call wild grain has almost unlimited market potential. There is nothing with quite the same combination of flavors and nutrition available.”

  “Our trade treaty with Oriente—”

  “Has been grossly unfair,” Etgar cut him off, nodding as though agreeing with Garith’s point in the process. “Based on an undervaluing of your wild grain’s potential and Oriente positioning itself as your primary market.”

  Garith became aware his mouth was still open with the unfinished sentence and closed it.

  “What are you proposing?” he asked.

  “A protected trade agreement, with Clan Sea Fox as your sole distributor,” Etgar said. “We renegotiate your current contracts and explore new markets for your products. After deducting our commission and fees, you can expect a thirty to forty percent increase in your net.”

  Garith decided he was missing a connection. There seemed to be nothing to tie Etgar Sea Fox’s words to what had gone before.

  “All of our imports would pass through you as well?” he asked, grasping at one straw he thought he understood.

  “As part of the protected trade agreement, of course.” Etgar nodded. “In this case our commissions and fees would about equal the reduction in costs, so in all but a few items there will be no change in price from your perspective.”

  Garith was aware of the silence in the audience hall. He took some consolation from the fact that no one seemed to understand where this conversation was headed.

  Unless…

  “You say protected trade agreement. Who is protected how and from what?”

  “Asellus Australis is protected from all comers by Clans Sea Fox and Spirit Cat.”

  Garith snapped his gaze to Lady Julietta.

  “You expect us to turn our world over for Clan occupation?” he demanded.

  Lady Julietta smiled, and Garith was pleased to note the expression lit her eyes.

  “Remember I told you I’d been teaching the Clans about protectorates?” she asked. “They like the idea very much.
Your complete autonomy in exchange for all trade in and out of Asellus Australis. Profits from the trade pays for your garrison, which means if the Spirit Cat forces guarding your world need something Clan Sea Fox hasn’t already provided, they pay you fair market value—a fair market value determined by your vendors. Thus, at no loss to the people of Asellus Australis, your world is under the protection of the fiercest warriors in the region, and your entire system guarded by a navy even the Lyrans fear.”

  Those last two claims might be hyperbole, Garith recognized, but they were close enough to the truth not to matter. But self-supporting? No net cost to Australis?

  “To what end?” he asked.

  “Captain-General Jessica Marik is reuniting the Free Worlds League.” Julietta made the announcement as though it were a foregone conclusion.

  Garith blinked once.

  “When the Free Worlds League reforms, Asellus Australis will join her.” Julietta raised her voice to reach every corner of the audience chamber. “But not as an individual world with no say in Parliament. Asellus Australis will have a voice in guiding the Free Worlds League as an honored member of the Clan Protectorate.”

  43

  Amur, Oriente

  Oriente Protectorate

  5 August 3138

  Even prepared for it, Jessica was transfixed by the images on the monitor.

  The unimaginable destruction of Breezewood rose like a deadly flower, filling the sky: the mad dash to the VTOL, the final shaky images from the rising aircraft—all of it was horrifying, and increasingly familiar.

  As the spreading firestorm destroyed the city below, Jessica heard the spokesman’s shouting voice, distorted by the VTOL’s cabin, saying thousands of civilians were dying in the blast. Beneath the shouting, a man sobbed at the horror he was witnessing.

  And, barely discernible, a voice damning Oriente—damning Jessica—for deliberately detonating a toxic waste dump to deny the Duchy a victory on Kwamashu.

  Torrian stopped the playback.

  Jessica fought the urge to ask him if the recording was authentic. The SAFE technicians on Oriente had already confirmed Watson’s field assessment. Both recordings were indisputably unaltered originals. No doubt his people would be devoting several sleepless nights to determining how it had been done.

  “So this is why you stopped the war?” she asked.

  Thaddeus didn’t blink.

  “I stopped the advance on Andurien,” he corrected. “We hold Kwamashu, Antipolo, El Giza and Mosiro.”

  “No thought of giving them back?”

  “No.” Thaddeus ignored her sarcastic tone. “I have ordered humanitarian aid and authorized the quartermaster to negotiate contracts for rebuilding infrastructure damaged in the conflict.”

  Jessica nodded. Jobs, and letting the people rebuild their own worlds. Far better for solidifying relations and loyalty than letting idle and resentful natives watch the invaders construct replacements for what they’d destroyed.

  “So we are keeping the worlds?” It wasn’t really a question.

  Thaddeus ignored her, turning to look at Torrian.

  “We’ll need your people on-site. Military intelligence is ill-suited to finding liberation units among the civilian population.”

  Torrian nodded. Jessica did not miss the fact that her SAFE director accepted the assignment without looking to her for confirmation.

  “More to the point, we need to figure out who made these recordings and why.” Thaddeus turned back to her. “And you know the situation better than I. What, if anything, do we tell Humphreys?”

  Well done, damn you, Jessica thought, regarding the wide-set hazel eyes leveling their sincere question in her direction. Establish that you’re able to evaluate and give orders on your own, then acknowledge you need me. Partnership, not service. You said that in the beginning.

  I’ll let you keep the illusion as long as you don’t expect the reality.

  She glanced at Torrian, but found her SAFE director regarding the monitor screen in a brown study.

  “The author of this is not a mystery.” As expected, both men focused on her. She let her fingertip lightly trace the grain of the ancient table as she met each one’s gaze in turn. “Daoshen Liao.”

  Thaddeus grunted.

  “Even by his standards—” Torrian began.

  “The fact that his standards—and only his standards—come anywhere near encompassing something like this pretty well focuses our search parameters,” Jessica said. “This trap took months to set up, and involved the slaughter of tens of thousands—hundreds of thousands—of innocents. Neither time nor strangers’ lives mean anything to a madman who thinks he’s an immortal god.”

  “Playing devil’s advocate,” Thaddeus said. “My understanding of the political situation is that Humphreys has always considered war an option. Could the recording we first saw be the original and the one distributed throughout Andurien worlds a doctored copy?”

  “Ari has always coveted the worlds he thinks a war might gain him,” Jessica corrected. “He’s had his eye on everything from Fujidera rimward since he was old enough to read a star chart.

  “But actually start a war?” She arched an eyebrow at Torrian. “Until we learned of the Kwamashu BattleMech facility and saw the recording of the explosion, I didn’t believe he had the stomach. Or the backbone.”

  Torrian did not flinch under her gaze.

  “We were manipulated,” he admitted. “And well. Andurien does not have the technology to produce a forged recording crystal of this quality.”

  “Another tally on the Daoshen side of the scale,” Jessica said. “Only the deep pockets and hidden resources of a major House could have pulled that off.”

  “The Lyrans—” Thaddeus stopped himself. “Never mind. There’s a difference between playing devil’s advocate and grasping at straws. Oriente and Andurien are too far from Steiner space for the archon to bother.”

  And points to you for not mentioning that her campaigns threaten your own Covenant Worlds.

  “Daoshen Liao is focused on carving up the corpse of The Republic. But he can’t afford to leave what he sees as two potential competitors on his flank,” she said. “Setting us against each other is cheap insurance—particularly since Oriente never supported Daoshen’s war on The Republic to his satisfaction. It would amuse him to support Humphreys against us.” She frowned at the frozen image on the screen.

  “Knowing we were duped into conflict, I am not comfortable prosecuting the war any further than we have.” Thaddeus’ voice broke in on her thoughts. “By the same token, we have gained valuable worlds, worlds I think are worth consolidating.”

  “So just keep what we have and declare the war over?” Jessica felt the edges of her words.

  “Win back Manchu-ri, consolidate the worlds we’ve acquired and stop our advance,” Thaddeus advised. He indicated the monitor screen. “This horror occurred on Duchy soil, costing us nothing but a battalion of soldiers prepared to die for Oriente.

  “If we go public with these conflicting recordings while the war is still hot—cry foul while facing the wrath of Andurien avenging its murdered civilians—it’s possible even some of our own citizens will believe we’re only trying to escape the consequences of our actions.

  “Particularly if our trying to stop the fight too soon inspires Liao to throw the Capellan Confederation’s weight behind the Andurien cry for justice.”

  Jessica smiled at the thought despite herself. Such duplicity would be vintage Daoshen.

  “Fight the war to a standstill.” Thaddeus leaned forward earnestly. “Pour all we can afford into winning the loyalty of the worlds we’ve acquired, make the people citizens instead of captives, then make a public disclosure of our discovery.

  “Instead of being a desperate attempt to stop a war, it becomes the final step in solidifying a peace.”

  “Ari’s going to want his worlds back,” Jessica pointed out.

  “You said yourself he’s always
dreamed of having everything rimward of Fujidera,” Thaddeus said. “We’re just giving him something bigger to dream about.”

  Jessica felt another smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, but successfully fought impulse. Half-closing her eyes, she regarded Thaddeus Marik thoughtfully.

  Partnership, she thought. Might be worth consideration.

  Pirate Point, Autumn Wind

  Wolf Occupation Zone

  Former Marik-StewartCommonwealth

  Nikol let her body float in zero gravity, marveling that she still felt the weary weight across her shoulders even when there was no up or down.

  There was no organized resistance on Autumn Wind. Like Gannett, like Danais, like Concord and oh-so especially like Helm. On Helm she had expected something. If only fueled by the outrage of the massacre, there should have been something.

  But the Clans hated resistance fighters. They regarded guerilla warfare as cowardice, murder without honor. To them, anonymous attacks on unwarned targets were symptoms of a sick society. And they responded accordingly.

  If an occupation soldier was killed in a neighborhood on a Lyran-held world, the Lyrans would go through the area door to door. They would search every house; examine the identities and backgrounds and relationships of everyone there. Sometimes they would find the killer. Other times they would find nothing. Most often they found some other criminal activity that would have otherwise gone undetected.

  If an occupation soldier was killed in a neighborhood on a Wolf-held world, the Wolves would go through the area door to door. And they would kill everyone. Every man, every woman, every child within a five-block radius of the soldier’s body. And they would leave the bodies of the people they killed—let them rot where they were and shoot anyone who tried to bury a family member or a loved one.

  If being a resistance fighter meant running the risk of seeing your children rot unburied, the price was too high. The Free Worlds League systems held by the Wolves were lost. They would stay lost until the League was strong enough to push the Wolves out of League space. And from what she had seen on Autumn Wind and Gannett and Helm, that was not going to happen any time soon.