“Tea. The Vice Admiral drinks tea,” Malcolm corrected in a calm voice, “and as for getting our hands on a few robots and old blaster pistols. We might not control the lower decks, yet, but we can move around anything we need to.”
“On the flagship? Or are you planning to do this at Gambit Station?” scoffed the Lieutenant, “none of which will help you get so much as within spitting distance of the command deck. We don’t have enough officers.”
“There are more of us than you might suspect, Lieutenant,” Malcolm said and then smiled confidently, “and as for having enough people in place to have a chance at success and get on the command deck… well let’s just say that it’s a good thing we’re not just supported by those of us in the room.”
“Meaning?” asked the big gunnery chief.
“After our strike against the droids takes place we’ll have to make sure and thank our anti-machine brothers in the Personnel department,” Malcolm said with a grin.
“That might just work,” said the Lieutenant.
“Indeed. We’ll have to wait and bide our time and if the Vice Admiral deals with the droids before then we can all go back to work as if nothing had happened but if he insists on making deals with the droids—and worse, actually holding to them—then we have to take action. I don’t know about the rest of you but I want my children to grow up in a machine free star system. Whatever the cost.”
“Hear, hear,” said the majority of those in the room.
****************************************************
The next day the senior petty officer with the dripping nose was found to have fallen off a gantry and broken his neck. He was announced dead on the scene. Security found no suspicion of foul play and engineering improved the safety railing throughout the entire section of the ship.
Chapter 38: Naming Names
I was in the study in my quarters when I received an FTL communication from Lieutenant Gants with an update on his mission.
He’d run the leak in Tracto down, or at least the one meddling with my prisoners and prison guards and the main conspirator on the fleet side of things was offering to spill his guts in return for not being prosecuted.
Apparently the officer issuing the orders to the prison guards hadn’t had the foggiest idea of what had been going on. A senior chief petty officer, recruited into the MSP formerly from a Border Alliance world SDF, had hacked the Senior Lieutenant’s fleet account and then used his access codes in some sort of pay-to-play scheme that Gants was still busy unraveling.
The senior chief also said that he knew names and that there was much more going on underneath the surface of my fleet than just him and his little operation.
Whether that was the truth or not was still in doubt. But if it was true then I wanted the traitors rooted out and any foreign agents purged, arrested or if they were unreachable because they came and went on freighters and were currently out of reach then I wanted them shut down and put out of business.
It all came down to a single question: was this corrupted senior chief telling the truth, or was he lying in order to get a deal and save his life? Well, so long as his deal was contingent upon the accuracy and veracity of his information then I didn’t mind if a little fish slipped from my net. Life in a penal colony, while still life, wasn’t at all pleasurable from what I’d been told and from what my own research told me.
In that context, the answer was simple.
“Mr. Harpsinger,” I opened a channel to the fleet’s Legal Department.
“What can I do for you, Admiral?” Harpsinger replied.
“Draw up a plea deal for Morgan Belfort, the Senior Chief currently in custody over on Tracto’s Alpha Station,” I said, pulling up a file and shooting it over to the Lawyer. “I want it clear that his sentence is commuted from espionage and high treason, with a sentence of death if prosecuted, to ten years in a penal colony on Tracto with the option of permanent banishment from Tracto and release back into the general population of the Sector for good behavior at the end of those ten years.”
There, that should take the traitorous senior chief out of play until everything he knew was history and everything he’d once been a part of hopelessly out of date. At the same time, it would give the Chief hope for something other than death or a permanent life of hell on Tracto. He could suffer and pay for his crimes, I thought dourly but more important than any one man was the safety and security of the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet.
“I can do that, Admiral. Although I’ll need to look into the particulars of the case,” Harpsinger nodded.
“I would have thought Fleet Legal would be in on the arrest of one of a department head, as defense counsel if nothing else?” I said, wrinkling my brow.
“I was aware that there was an issue in Tracto but the legal department in Tracto has been dealing with it. FTL communications leaving much to be desired for advising and speaking with anyone, especially someone you are aiming to defend or depose,” Harpsinger said dryly.
“That makes sense,” I agreed.
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll get on it,” said the Lawyer.
“Carry on,” I said and then cut the channel. Now it only remains to be seen if Morgan Belfort was the big fish himself, or a small fish that could lead us to an even bigger catch, I thought with narrowing eyes.
Chapter 39: On the Senate Floor
“One year ago this day, patriots belonging to our Empire attempted to assist our former brothers in the Spineward Sectors out of the darkness which had oppressed their worlds for too long,” Senator Cornwallis thundered. “And what did those ungrateful louts do in response? They spat in all of our faces! That is why, if the Senate accepts my proposal, I will personally lead a Campaign of Pacification and Liberation to reclaim that which rightfully belongs to us,” he stated, turning to address the assembled Senators his purple fringed white cape flaring. “No portion of Human Space, or any part of the Known Galaxy, should be set apart from the control of the Empire and Dictates of Man!”
As soon as Cornwallis was done speaking, the newly-confirmed Junior Senator from House Raubach kicked the elderly Senator in front of him, starting awake the impoverished old politician—a man who had reduced himself to nothing more than a paid mouthpiece for any member of the Senate who could vote, but was too junior to have speaking rights on the floor of the Imperial Senate.
It was a quirk of the Imperial system that while any Senator could vote, only senior Senators or those who had already held specific offices could speak and propose legislation.
“Objection,” the elderly Senator said, standing up proudly—or at least as proudly as a man who sold his voice, if not always his vote—for Imperial credits.
Senator Charles Cornwallis’s steely gaze swept over the elderly Tiberius Morgan dismissively before landing on Senator Raubach—a man who the former leader of House Raubach, with Cornwallis' support, had supposedly removed from the equation long before the Union Treaty had been signed. Unfortunately, this new Raubach Prince had proven more capable than his predecessor who, according to indisputable records verified by the Purity Council, had been killed around a year ago in the Spineward Sectors.
Fortunately, decades of systematic weakening at Cornwallis' direction had all but gutted House Raubach and brought it perilously close to Vassal House status. Like any dying beast too stupid to realize its demise is already inevitable, Raubach was still capable of causing more than merely superficial damage if its new Prince was as capable as he seemed to be.
Cornwallis held Raubach's gaze before turning back to Senior Senator Tiberius Morgan. His upper lip quirked and the fourth rail of Imperial politics was about to respond in an appropriate fashion when he was interrupted by one the few people able to call themselves his superior on the floor of the senate and make it stick…for now: Imperial Triumvir Bellucci, who was absolutely Cornwallis' most loathed—and capable—rival.
“Just what is the objection, Senator Morgan?” Triumvir Bellucci asked, imp
atiently tapping her lictor on the side of her section of the impressively raised dais at the base of the granite amphitheater that was the Imperial Senate building. “And please do make it quick. I don’t like people who waste my time with petty partisan debates. There is a war on, after all.”
Senator Cornwallis expression remained implacable but his eyes immediately turned cold. Bellucci was as poisonous as she was partisan and well aware that, due to her House’s several missteps on the Front, he was taking aim at her seat on the Triumvirate. Anything that appeared neutral or helpful to anything he proposed was only part of a hidden attack.
“Yes, Senior Senator Morgan. Triumvir Bellucci is not the only one interested in why you seek to impede the business of the Empire while there is a war raging all along the Gorgon Front—despite this Senate’s best efforts to bring it to a swift and speedy resolution,” Senator Cornwallis said, staring piercingly at the aged Senator.
Tiberius Morgan kept his gaze averted from Cornwallis and continued to focus on Triumvir Bellucci. “Triumvir, it is not that I am against the expansion of this great Empire so much as I question whether the expedition my fellow Senator proposes would not benefit from the addition of several more seasoned…additions to its makeup,” the Senior Senator said as he quite casually tried to throw Senator Cornwallis under the bus and seize everything he’d worked for.
The slight tremble of his hands and tension in the old man’s jawline evidenced the pressure the old man must be under to go directly against a fellow Senator with the power to crush his house into dust and ensure that House Morgan ended with Tiberius.
Charles Cornwallis’s eyes narrowed as he considered what this Raubach usurper must have over a piece of plain toasted bread like the Senior Senator to make the old man openly antagonize him. Since returning to the Empire, House Raubach—which had, under its previous leadership, been a useful if not entirely loyal vassal to House Cornwallis—had made all manner of waves that were far above its station, several of which went diametrically against Cornwallis' interests. So Cornwallis knew that the new Raubach group was a thorn that needed removing, and he suspected that House Cornwallis was far from the only Great House which had been inconvenienced by Raubach's recent activities. Not that he was going to let either Raubach or Morgan go in the end, mind you, but Cornwallis was experienced enough to understand how this particular game needed to be played in order to win.
However, now was not the time for reprisals. Everything could be paid back when he returned triumphant from the Confederation’s old Spineward Sectors territories…paid back ten times over.
“The 'addition' of several 'additions,' Morgan?” mocked Senator Cornwallis as he tut-tutted disdainfully. “I know you’re old but at least try not to stammer when making a proposal on the senate floor,” he said scathingly, “by the god of our youth, your mouth trembles more than your hands do.”
“Cornwallis!” the Senior Senator flushed with anger and humiliation.
“Let’s have some decorum on the Senate Floor, Senators. This is the supreme legislative body in known space; at least pretend to act like you respect that,” Triumvir Bellucci said severely, but when she didn’t continue further it was clear she wanted to give someone enough rope to hang himself.
Cornwallis stood silent as Bellucci use her office—one which he had eyed for a century—as a club to score political points.
“The Triumvir has always been the very height of decorum on the Senate floor, and I’m sure I join my fellow Senior Senator in thanking her for her guidance,” Cornwallis deadpanned to one belatedly muffled guffaw. He was not the only one Bellucci had trodden upon in her path of ascension to a vaunted seat on the Triumvirate.
Triumvir Bellucci looked in the direction of the inappropriate laugh with narrowed eyes, and Charles Cornwallis suppressed a vindictive laugh. The other Senator gaining her ire had all but assured he’d gained one more vote for his proposal.
“As I was saying—” Senator Morgan harrumphed.
“And just who are these more seasoned additions that you want to ‘addition’ to the Spineward Expedition, Senator Morgan?” Senator Cornwallis cut him off scornfully. “I’ve served in this body, been an Admiral in our Navy, walked the path-of-glory to Senior Status from civil service, to military service—in the very Sectors we now consider annexing—to high elected office. And now, after I’ve finally handed all this to the Empire, the opportunity to reach out and claim seven Sectors of the Confederation for the Empire is in our hands if we will but grasp it. Seven entire Sectors! Can you or your ‘more seasoned’ additions say they have ever done half as much? Or say they know the pieces, the players, or our own navy half as well as I?” he asked scornfully.
“No man is perfect, Senator! You should not take my proposed support for your expedition as some sort of attack but for the support that it truly is—” the Senior Senator all but stammered a spineless rebuttal before the Junior Senator behind him frowned and once again kicked him in the back of the leg. “That is, I concur that this expedition would be a great boon to our mighty Empire,” the elderly Tiberius Morgan took a deep, steadying breath and leaned forward his hands grasping the hand rail in front of him for support and shot Charles Cornwallis a suddenly fearsome gaze. Apparently, he’d finally realized that he’d already crossed the line from paid opponent to enemy of House Cornwallis, “And I agree that seven Sectors of the Confederation fringe is something we can’t pass up. But are you really the one to lead this Campaign of Liberation, Pacification and Reclamation? Perhaps you should see to your own House first before attempting to shoulder a burden of this size, young Cornwallis?”
Charles Cornwallis stiffened at the blatant dig at his most recent failure. If the Reclamation Fleet had just done its job then he would have been able to directly accept those seven Sectors in the name of the Empire and there would have been little to nothing his political foes could do about it. But thanks to his old Flag Captain’s bungling, everything had become ten times harder.
“I think a Senator whose own house has teetered on the edge of financial oblivion for as long as yours has, Senator, would be well advised to tend his own affairs and not cast baseless aspersions upon those Houses that are considered the leading lights of the Empire,” he said coldly.
“Yes, but one of the leading lights for how much longer, Charles?” Senator Hampton interjected. “Or will you simply ‘reclaim’ that light at the expense of others once again? You appear to have become rather proficient at that.”
Senator Cornwallis’s fists clenched. Not all the current and former members of the Reclamation Initiative that had paid for Arnold Janeski’s grand blunder was happy about it. Some, like Senator Hampton, had paid less than others. And with House Hampton’s shipyards continuing to churn out warships while being firmly ensconced within an established faction—something that had initially drawn his own attention as a possible ally—Senator Hampton would be hard to displace.
“Everyone has ups and down when it comes to trade, Hampton. Don’t try and shove your inadequacies off on the rest of us,” Charles Cornwallis said coolly.
“Hmph,” snorted the other Senator taking a step back, “we’ll see if you still feel that way in a year’s time, fourth rail,” he finished with finality as he turned back into the crowd of junior Senators.
The vultures were circling, but the House of Cornwallis was as old as the Empire itself and it took more than a couple disgruntled junior partners and former employees with hand-axes to bring down a mighty oak.
He turned back to Senior Senator Morgan and lifted a brow.
“Well, Senior Senator? I’m still waiting for a reply. Please regale the Senate with the superior merits of your supposed ‘additions.’ We’re all waiting with bated breath,” he said dismissively.
“A forest is only as strong as each of its trees, Senator,” spat the elderly Senator Morgan. “You may be a whang-biz Admiral—I personally wouldn’t know—and a decent enough statesman but if you go it alone then you r
ise and fall all by yourself.”
“Your concern does you great credit, and there is much to what you say, Senator Morgan,” Senator Cornwallis said dismissively. “Personally, I’d be more than willing to share the burden of expanding the Empire; it is not I but the Confederation which specifically requested my assistance by name. Possibly because they are fearful of too blatant a power grab by the Empire. Possibly because they know I am a seasoned and steady hand, intimately familiar with the area and its incumbent regional difficulties. I can’t say which. All we know for sure is this is a chance that the Empire may not see again. Do we dare endanger bringing in more worlds, more resources and, though they are definitely third rate, more warships, especially when we all know how stretched for those very resources our Admirals and glorious Triumvirs along the Gorgon Front already are?”
“The Gorgon Front hardly seems germane to the task at hand,” Senior Senator Morgan retorted. “Except to remark that this Pacification Campaign of yours will not come to us cost-free. The Spineward Sectors will require a great deal of military assets, from Imperial Naval Warships to fleet supply transports, marines and ground forces, all of which are in critically short supply.”
“While I will admit that Imperial Fleets do not grow on trees, Senator,” Charles Cornwallis snorted, “they are not as rare as all that. The 7th Imperial Battle Fleet already stands watch over the Overton Expanse while the Imperial Rim Fleet is fresh back from the Gorgon Front for rest and refit. Those two, along with the 2nd Naval Reserve Flotilla which is only two weeks away from a complete refit, could be used for a rapid strike into the Spine in a shock and awe campaign designed to overawe any resistance before it could be formed. Leading the people of the Spine, already desperate for succor and relief from pirates, droids and burgeoning warlords, to look upon our people as the liberators we would be.”
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