Once the war is over, we can work on growing other economies, she thought. She knew what the plans had been, before Wolfbane had cast a long shadow over the Commonwealth. Those plans could be dusted off and put back to work. And it will make us stronger in the long run.
“There’s quite a few ships leaving the system,” the tactical officer commented. “They may have seen us already.”
Mandy doubted it. The message to Corinthian wouldn't even have reached the planet; they certainly wouldn't have had time to send a reply. And the freighters shouldn't have detected the squadron’s arrival, not with civilian-grade sensors. But if Wolfbane had a few spy ships among the freighters ... they might well have set off to report back to their masters. Or, perhaps, they were smugglers who feared being caught and trapped inside the phase limit.
Or it might be nothing at all, she thought, sourly. There’s no way to be certain.
The communications console pinged, seven hours later. “Captain, Corinthian acknowledges our arrival,” the communications officer said. “System Command would like to know what we’re doing here.”
Because they didn’t expect us to arrive, Mandy thought. The arrival of an unscheduled fleet, in wartime, would cause some alarm, even if the fleet did have the right IFF codes. Who knew if an enemy spy could have obtained the codes? They’ll be getting ready to fight now, even though they think we’re friendly.
“Inform them that Colonel Stalker will explain, once we reach communications range,” she ordered. There was no point in trying to hold a conversation when it took three and a half hours for a message to reach Corinthian, then a further three and a half hours for a reply to reach Defiant. “And request a suitable orbital slot.”
She sighed, inwardly, as she rose to her feet and passed command to her XO. Everyone was paranoid these days, with reason. The Pax Imperia was long gone, replaced by a universe where the wolf was at the door ... literally, for the worlds facing the prospect of being added to the Wolfbane Consortium. No one would allow a newcomer to enter firing range, let alone orbit, without being very sure of the newcomer’s bona fides. Part of her found it depressing, as if some piece of her innocence had been stolen without her ever knowing why. And yet, she knew that only an idiot failed to lock her doors on Earth. Even in Imperial City, thieves were everywhere.
And the colonel is going to turn this system upside down, she thought. They won’t be pleased at hearing from him.
She stepped through the hatch into her office and keyed a switch, activating the display. The system was slowly revealing its secrets, allowing her to see more and more detail ... the locals wouldn't want to move, no matter the threat. But they had no choice. The Wolves would want Corinthian, even if Admiral Singh hadn't had a personal connection to the system. And Corinthian couldn't hold indefinitely against a powerful fleet.
The colonel will just have to convince them to go, she thought, as she sat down. That’s his job.
***
“They’ve done a lot of work,” Jasmine said, as she stood next to Colonel Stalker in the compact CIC. The compartment was largely empty, save for a pair of operators Mandy had loaned them. “It wasn't anything like this industrialised when I was here last.”
“They needed time to build without Admiral Singh,” Stalker said. “And since they already had an industrial base, it was natural for it to keep growing.”
Jasmine shrugged, watching grimly as more and more asteroid settlements came into view. It was easy to hide an asteroid settlement from anything less than a close inspection, but she knew better than to take it for granted. If one of the ships that had left the system was a spy, she knew, Wolfbane would already have a pretty good idea where most of the settlements actually were. And even if they didn't, they had good reason to keep catching asteroids and melting them down for raw materials.
Not that there’s any shortage, she thought. Thousands of years of mining hadn't significantly reduced Earth’s asteroid belt, after all, although there had been plans to blow up one of the minor planets to produce more raw material. The plans had come to nothing, as far as she recalled; she was fairly sure she would have noticed a missing planet when she was last in the Sol System. They can support a full-scale industrial node for centuries if necessary.
The Colonel glanced at her. “Is 1st Platoon ready for deployment?”
“Yes, sir,” Jasmine said. She was still disappointed that he’d rejected her idea for an orbital drop, but she did understand his logic. They’d be taking quite enough crazy risks when the enemy arrived, finally. “Do you want an escort?”
“I think it would be best,” Colonel Stalker said. “And I’ll want your impressions of Corinthian too.”
Jasmine frowned. “Not all of them will be pleased to see me, sir,” she said. She’d tried to resign, the first time, after completing the mission on Corinthian. “And some of them may bear a grudge.”
“It can't be helped,” the Colonel said. “All hell is going to break loose soon.”
“Unless Wolfbane fails to take the bait,” Jasmine said.
She looked up at the display. The logic of shortening the defence lines was sound, she knew, although part of her insisted it was the prelude to accepting inevitable defeat. There were good reasons to strip Corinthian of everything useful before ceding the world to Wolfbane and good reasons for Wolfbane to want to move fast, to intervene before it was too late. And yet, on an interstellar scale, the universe laughed at plots and plans. It was quite possible that Admiral Singh would continue her drive towards Avalon and leave Corinthian for later.
But she wants revenge, Jasmine thought. And we’re offering her the chance to take it.
“Twelve hours until we enter orbit,” the Colonel added. “I’ll be taking a shuttle down to Freedom City as soon as possible. You and 1st Platoon will accompany me, as planned.”
“Yes, sir,” Jasmine said.
“And leave your boyfriend behind,” he warned. “This meeting will have to be private.”
Jasmine nodded, curtly. She was used to the ribbing - and besides, the colonel had a very valid point. No one, particularly a planetary government official, would want a public record of what was certain to be a very uncomfortable meeting.
“I imagine he’ll be off-loaded with the troops,” she said. She hesitated, then asked the question that had been bothering her for weeks. “What happens if they refuse to cooperate?”
The Colonel hesitated. “We cannot try to compel cooperation,” he said, finally. “Even if we wanted to try, it would be devastating. The Commonwealth would not survive.”
He cleared his throat. “If they refuse to allow us to land and deploy our forces, along with the shield generator and everything else, we will have no choice but to withdraw,” he admitted. “And we will have to hope that the Wolves suffer when they try to take the system.”
Jasmine watched him go, then turned her gaze back to the display. Corinthian had powerful defences; Admiral Singh had been determined to keep her capital safe and her successors, always aware she might return, had built on them. But there were problems, hundreds of problems, in defending a planet from a mobile fleet. A planet could neither run nor hide ...
... And if they choose to fight without our help, they’ll be slaughtered, she thought. And then Admiral Singh will take whatever is left and turn it against us.
She keyed her wristcom after taking one last glance at the timer. “Report to the shuttlebay at 0920, local time,” she ordered. “Bring standard escort gear; make sure you get some sleep before we leave.”
Her lips twitched as she turned and walked out of the CIC. Joe Buckley had remained faithful to his wife, much to Jasmine’s relief, but the other marines had been working hard to lure as many crewwomen into bed as possible. They’d been quite successful too, she thought, if the bragging was any indication. At least they hadn't taken to collecting pairs of panties again, thankfully. She still winced when she recalled Sergeant Hallowell’s reaction to Blake Coleman’s collection
, the night before all hell broke loose on Han ...
Get some sleep, she told herself, firmly. The long wait is over.
***
“They’re not taking any chances, Captain,” the tactical officer reported, as Mandy stepped back onto the bridge. “They’ve got us locked with a hundred automated missile platforms.”
“The first line of defence,” Mandy commented. The platforms weren't much, but their mere presence would force an attacker to declare himself before he got into firing range of the orbital battlestations. “Hold position. Wait for them to call us.”
She wondered, absently, just what was going on in the mighty battlestations. They’d had plenty of opportunity to get hard visuals of her hulls, confirming that Defiant and her sisters were Commonwealth starships. It wasn't as if she’d arrived in a fleet of ex-Empire ships that could have been flown by anyone from rebels to pirates. But they’d still be wondering what the hell was going on ...
“Picking up a signal, Captain,” the communications officer said. “It’s from an Admiral Melaka.”
“Put him through,” Mandy ordered.
She glanced at the line of text under the screen. Admiral Melaka was a local-born naval officer, technically an officer in the Commonwealth Navy even though he hadn't been trained on Avalon. Like her, he’d been promoted rapidly; she was mildly surprised he hadn't been working for Admiral Singh. But then, that had probably been a factor in his promotion. Too many local officers had had ties to the former dictator.
“Commodore Caesius,” Admiral Melaka said. He was older than she’d expected, although it could be that he was merely one of the rare people who reacted badly to anti-aging and rejuvenation treatments. Or it could be a fashion statement. “It’s ... interesting to see you here, at this moment. You came without notification.”
“I’m afraid so, Admiral,” Mandy said. “The entire mission was organised on very short notice.”
Admiral Melaka cocked his head. “Indeed?”
“Colonel Stalker needs to speak directly to your government,” Mandy said. She played enough word games with her father, when he was in a good mood and her mother was elsewhere. “Please would you clear his shuttle to pass through your defence grid?”
“It will be done,” Admiral Melaka said. “I’ll have a flight path forwarded to you shortly.”
Just long enough to make sure the planetary leaders are briefed, Mandy thought. She didn't really blame Admiral Melaka for making sure his superiors were alerted, but she doubted they had time for playing games. He doesn't know what’s coming.
“That would be good,” she said, out loud.
Admiral Melaka nodded. “And your crews? Will they be requiring shore leave facilities?”
“Not at present,” Mandy said. Commonwealth crews were quite well behaved, compared to some of the horror stories she’d heard from the Imperial Navy, but bad memories faded slowly. Admiral Singh’s crews had probably not been too disciplined either. “I expect we will be talking again, shortly.”
His eyes narrowed. “Aye, I can see it,” he said. He’d picked up on something, after all. “I look forward to it, Commodore.”
Mandy frowned as his face vanished, then glanced at the communications officer. “They’ve sent a flight path, Captain,” he said. “It’s a straight-line descent to Freedom City.”
They definitely know something is up, Mandy thought. Admiral Melaka’s file warned that he had very limited experience, but he was not a fool. The sheer surprise of their arrival had probably worried him badly. That’s good, right now.
“Forward it to the shuttlebay, then clear Colonel Stalker for departure,” she ordered. A straight-line descent meant no security games, which both pleased and worried her. “And then hold position here until further notice.”
“Aye, Commodore,” the communications officer said.
Good luck, Jasmine, Mandy thought. You’ll need it.
Chapter Eleven
There was, for example, a war back on Old Earth where one side made the mistake of switching its reserve forces from west to east, when the war in the west appeared to be going well.
- Professor Leo Caesius. The Role of Randomness In War.
Ed had only set foot on Corinthian once, shortly after Jasmine’s coup had sent Admiral Singh fleeing into deep space. Landing City - it had been renamed Freedom City shortly after his visit - had impressed him, although it wasn't the kind of place he’d want to spend the rest of his life. The towering skyscrapers were far too close to the CityBlocks of Earth for his comfort, even though they were smaller and far less inclusive. He’d grown too used to open spaces to find them comfortable.
But it was clear that the city’s planners disagreed. There were hundreds of new skyscrapers, running out in all directions from the government complex in the centre of the city. Much of the ring of farms surrounding the city had been obliterated, replaced by skyscrapers and other buildings as the city expanded to absorb the influx of newcomers. He hoped, despite himself, that the planet’s population understood the wisdom of keeping their powder dry - and zero tolerance for crime. Without it, they’d rapidly lose control of their streets as the barbarity at the core of human nature reasserted itself.
He settled back in his chair as the shuttle dropped towards Government House and landed neatly on the landing pad. A handful of armed soldiers were within view, but none of them seemed inclined to storm the shuttle or do anything other than serve as a welcoming committee. Ed studied them through the porthole as he rose to his feet, silently deciding that they were probably better trained than the average City Guard unit. Admiral Singh, whatever else could be said about her, had understood the value of intensive training.
And even that didn't stop her forces from committing atrocities from time to time, he thought, grimly. What’s going to happen when she returns to Corinthian?
Jasmine and 1st Platoon fanned out around him as he disembarked, taking a long breath as soon as he was outside the hatch. The air brought back unwelcome memories, reminding him far too much of Earth. It didn’t stink quite as badly as humanity’s homeworld, he conceded after a long moment, but he could taste the scent of industrialisation in the air. But perhaps that was not too surprising. Compared to most of the worlds within the Commonwealth, Corinthian had had a big head start. Even lawsuits filed by worlds Admiral Singh had looted to build up her industrial base hadn’t slowed the planet’s industrial growth.
A young man wearing a captain’s uniform stepped forward, showing no sign of nervousness at meeting either Ed himself or the armed marines. Ed was moderately impressed, recognising the signs of special training. The guards would know how to handle guests from off-world, protecting their charges without causing offense. It spoke well of him, Ed decided, but how would he handle himself in a combat zone? It was quite likely he was about to find out.
“Colonel Stalker,” the young man said. “Welcome to Corinthian.”
“Thank you,” Ed said. He couldn't help noticing that the officer didn't wear a nametag, a common precaution when diplomats with ruffled feathers could file reports and complaints that would put an end to an officer’s career. The guards he recalled on Earth had taken a perverse delight in watching for opportunities to manhandle their seniors. “It’s been quite some time since I was last here.”
“Yes, sir,” the officer said. “I am to conduct a brief security scan, then escort you and your marines to the briefing compartment. Is that suitable?”
“Of course,” Ed said. “I quite understand the requirements.”
He waited, patiently, as the guards ran sensors over their bodies, silently noting what they did and didn't do. Diplomats tended to get offended when told they needed to be strip-searched, which made it harder to keep them from smuggling weapons or other surprises into conference rooms. Ed was sure he could have gotten a weapon through security without too much trouble, even without implants that would send false readings back to the scanner. But then, anything short of a full search - inc
luding the removal of his uniform - would have been insufficient.
The thought made him smile as they were escorted down the stairs and through a network of corridors, each one lined with black-edged photographs of the men and women who had died in the fight against Admiral Singh. He wondered if Jasmine recognised any of them, but there was no way he could ask her in public. A large portrait hung at the end of the corridor, with a sign underneath that read The Liberators. He fought down the urge to laugh as he saw someone who was probably meant to be Jasmine. He’d wondered why none of the guards had seemed to recognise her, but if they expected her to look like her portrait ...
“The President and the General are waiting for you,” the escort said, as they stopped outside a large pair of doors. “Do you want your escort to remain here?”
“Jasmine, with me,” Ed ordered. “The rest of you, wait here.”
They Shall Not Pass (The Empire's Corps Book 12) Page 11