by Daniel Gibbs
Tokarev offered to join them, and Henry nearly accepted. But the privateers needed every gun to finish off the League Q-ships, and one or two more ships wouldn't change anything in TR-209. For better or worse, the crew of the Shadow Wolf was on their own.
Because of that, Henry had everyone in their best places: Tia, Piper, and Cera on the bridge, Felix, Vidia, Miri, and a partly-recovered Caetano on the quad-turrets, Oskar on standby to deal with wounded, Yanik and al-Lahim in the holds with the missiles, and Pieter with Samina and Brigitte to run engineering while handling repairs.
"They're already in Lusitania," Dulaney said to everyone over the comms. "Reports are sporadic, but they're claiming to be a democratic army, and Vitorino's arresting anyone affiliated with democrats."
"Just as we figured."
Piotr Tokarev spoke up. "We must go now, then. Spread truth before League ships arrive!"
"I'm giving the order now. Captain Henry, are you sure…"
"We didn't keep enough ships to fight their cruiser and its squadron," Henry pointed out. "And if we all show up, there's a bigger chance we'll spook them into jumping out."
"You have a point." It was clear Dulaney was worried about them. "Well, good luck, Captain. Or as they said in your old service, 'Godspeed'."
Henry smiled thinly. He didn't use the word anymore himself, but he didn't protest Dulaney's use of it. Maybe it made Dulaney feel better, at least.
As the privateer fleet jumped out, Henry turned his attention to Piper. "We have the coordinates loaded from Kepper's last transmission?"
"Yep," she said. "And they're past TR-209's limit too. I can't promise we'll jump in exactly where you want, Captain."
"Get me as close to seventy-five thousand kilometers as you can, Piper. Cera, Yanik, and al-Lahim will handle the rest."
"Right." As Piper finished the calculations to feed into the Lawrence drive, tension filled the bridge in a palpable way.
After all these days of dangerous battles, they were entering one that was, without a doubt, the most hazardous they'd faced. A squadron of League warships, led by a Rand-class cruiser, and all they had going for them was pluck, some skill, and an over-engined medium hauler. Don’t forget the sixteen super-advanced AI-piloted Hunter missiles, which will even the odds ever so slightly. They were what turned this from "definitely suicide" to "probable suicide." As the moments counted down, Henry reflected on having a better crew than he ever deserved.
"Course calculation complete," Piper said. "Sending course to the helm."
"Receivin'," said Cera.
Henry leaned forward. "Jump!"
25
A holovid and a late meal later, the four-hour mark was approaching. The Lusitanian fleet was in position to intercept the “invaders” and wipe them out if permitted. Which, of course, they wouldn't be. "Give it, oh, another ten minutes," said Vitorino. "We should make it look good. Let them get a few shots off."
"Sir, they'll cost us ships, may even kill some of the crew."
"So will the League squadron when it arrives," Vitorino pointed out. "They know their duty, don't they? We must make this look right."
Carvalho nodded. "You’re correct about that, sir." He checked a message. "RSS authorities have Ascaro and al-Amin in custody. They’re still rounding up known democrat subversives and..."
Lights began forming on the display. Vitorino's eyes narrowed. It can’t be the League ships. For one, they were going to jump further in-system, since military drives had smaller Lawrence limits. The timing’s not right.
And, as a final matter, there were forty of them, not five.
"We're getting scans now. Multiple types and variants of ships. It looks like a fleet of independent vessels, but we are getting a positive identification on several pirate ships." Carvalho was frowning. "Including the Morozova and Mad Hatter."
Before Vitorino could remark on the presence of the Tokarev brothers or "Mad Jack" Dulaney, the display showed an incoming transmission from the ships. Not just one, but many, and not only to the defense systems. "A system-wide communication, multiple bandwidths, civilian included, and local GalNet," Carvalho confirmed. His eyes widened. "Sir!"
"Put it on."
Vitorino watched the screen change to the sight of a man with a pale complexion. His eyes were distant and troubled, while he spoke Portuguese with a distinct Galician accent. "People of Lusitania, I am Captain Mauricio Dominguez of the Star of Coruna, your countryman. I come to warn you of treachery. The fleet that has arrived in your system includes my own beloved vessel, stolen from my crew and me by the League of Sol."
Vitorino scowled and stood. "Jam them!" he shouted.
"Order sent, sir." Carvalho's voice betrayed his disbelief at what they were hearing.
"—disabled our ship, as they have done to fifty other vessels in the recent year. Whoever they say they are, it is false. They are of the League, here to subjugate our world to their designs with the aid of traitors in the government. I have evidence they have sabotaged our Navy as part of this deception…"
"Why is it still reaching us?" Vitorino demanded. "Jam them!"
"We're jamming everything we can, but the broadcast includes quantum entanglement links," Carvalho said. "Those can't be stopped."
"But they're limited to…" Vitorino clenched his fists and his jaw. "Send everything we can to the broadcast stations. I'm declaring a planetwide communications blackout, starting now!"
"Yes, sir!"
"...evidence to you on sub-channels of this broadcast, logs, and testimonies that prove what I am saying. I implore you, my countrymen, save our world. Save yourselves from the fate the League will bring us. I can testify from experience, as my crew and I suffered horribly at the League's hands in their attempts to break us. Others suffered much longer…"
Ascaro was trapped in the back of a large hulking RSS transport. Her wrists and ankles were handcuffed to a chain of shackles attached to her seat. Nor was she alone. Al-Amin was across from her, a bruise on the olive complexion of her face where she'd been struck by one of the RSS agents on her bodyguard detail. Other surviving Assembly members from their parties—there weren't many—were with them, as were two armed RSS men.
Outside, the vehicle was moving through Gamavilla. Ascaro wondered why they hadn't been taken to the military brig, or the imposing National Prison. The RSS seemed content to have them ride around endlessly.
What made it worse was the utter silence with which they were treated. The RSS men said nothing to them, nothing at all. Not even words of hate or disgust. They might have been automatons for the way they behaved, and it gave them an inhuman cast that was frightening.
Are they going to arrest Martzel? What about my children; what about Xabier, Marta, and my baby girl Carmen?
It was for her children that she was the most frightened, and her worry for them occupied her mind entirely.
"Are they yours?" asked al-Amin.
The question pulled Ascaro out of her maternal worry. She glanced up at him. "What?"
"This 'Democratic Army.' Are they yours?"
"No." Ascaro shook her head.
"Silence!" one of the guards barked. "There will be no discussion between prisoners."
Ascaro stared at him. The expression on his face—he appeared like a rabid animal, snarling and spit coming out of the sides of his mouth—set something off within her. In that face, she could see all of the terrible things afflicting her people. The cult of nationality, the ideology of devotion to the state, and cruelty to supposed enemies; she despised it all.
Now it seemed as if they were going to win. Damn them all, the fascists were going to win and destroy everything good about Lusitania.
With a loud voice and the courage of hopeless despair, she called out, "I will not be silenced. I'm tired of being bullied by the RSS and its fascist filth!"
"Let the traitor rant," the other guard said. "She'll stop when the interrogators get to work."
"Is that what you think?" she sho
t back at him. "You don't think I haven't lived in terror of this day for years? That I'm not prepared to suffer for my world?"
Some of the others in the van started murmuring. She knew a number of them had the same fears and, like her, kept working for democracy anyway.
"I say we just knock this treacherous bitch's teeth out now," the first guard said. "A warning to the others."
"I won't be silenced!" Ascaro insisted. She'd taken the plunge, guaranteed she would suffer, and felt no reason to fear worse.
"Director Travada's orders were explicit," the second guard said. "Nobody lays a hand on them."
The entire transport came to a sudden stop that everyone felt. The first guard put a hand to his helmet. "Guard detachment here. What's going on? Why're we stopped?" After several seconds, the guard's expression darkened. "Something's wrong. There's no answer." He lifted his rifle toward Ascaro. She stared at him, wondering if she was about to die. "Orders are to kill before we let them get rescued, right?"
"Hold your damn trigger finger," said the second guard. "It could be a comm difficulty."
The first guard was apparently less convinced. After several tense seconds, he lowered the rifle.
The rear door opened. Four RSS agents were standing there. One of the guards seemed to recognize them. "Nico, what's—"
Bolts of energy fired from the pistols in the hands of these agents. Ascaro's first instinct was that they were about to be slaughtered, but the bolts only hit their guards. The two men never had a chance to return fire, the surprise was so total. Once they hit the floor of the transport, two of the figures stepped in and approached the fallen agents. Ascaro recognized Palmeiro just as she knelt and pulled an object from the second guard's belt. Palmeiro hit a key on the device.
As one, the shackles holding Ascaro's wrists and ankles opened, along with everyone else’s. "Senior Agent Palmeiro, what is going on?" Ascaro asked, stunned more than relieved.
"I'm here to free you," she replied. To the others, she added, "I am Senior Agent Camila Palmeiro of the Republic Security Service, and I am setting you free."
Al-Amin beat Ascaro to the question they both had. "Why?"
Instead of answering verbally, the woman pulled out a large government-issue commlink. With a press on its surface, she activated the holodisplay, showing a pale-faced man speaking Lusitanian Portuguese in a hoarse voice. "—again, I am Captain Mauricio Dominguez of the Star of Coruna, and I am Lusitanian. The League of Sol is behind these ships. Traitors in the Lusitanian government have sided with them against their own people and plotted to seize control of our world. Whatever the government is telling you is being twisted by these traitors. The evidence on our subchannel will prove—"
Everyone was watching at that point. With a tap, Palmeiro activated the subchannel. It showed camera footage of ships being fitted with weapons. In several of the shots, people with League uniforms were seen.
Ascaro stared at it in stunned amazement. Vitorino supported trade with the League, but she couldn't believe he'd go this far. Yet the evidence is undeniable.
"Minister Ascaro." Palmeiro glanced at her. "I found the data chip in your room. I don't know where you got it from, but when I saw it… " She shook her head. "Now this? Well, I couldn't let it go on. Above all, I am a patriot."
"You're defying the RSS?" Ascaro asked, her tone incredulous. Palmeiro might have been well-spoken before, but she was clearly an Estado Novo advocate. Now she was defying her own agency?
"I'm defying Vitorino, who's a traitor, or suborned by traitors," Palmeiro said. "Whatever your politics are, it's always been clear you're not a traitor. So you have my support. We just pulled up to the east entrance of the National University campus. Word is there's a growing gathering here to protest your arrest. You'll be safe."
"Vitorino will send troops," al-Amin said.
"He may try, but I doubt he'll keep their loyalty much longer."
Still surprised she wasn't dead, Ascaro stood. Her legs quivered under her, as if the weight of the situation might force her to her knees. But she willed them to hold. "I need to get in touch with the President."
"Yes, so we can see where he stands," Palmeiro said. "Until then, we'll protect you."
Vitorino sat down and forced himself to calm down. "Time to the engagement?"
"They're entering weapons range shortly. We should initiate the shutdown."
Already Vitorino's mind was racing. How do I fix this? Even now, this recording would be spreading across the planet like wildfire. Assuming he found a way to spin it, to attack the source… how many would believe him, even in his own party? How many of his enemies would turn this against him if the rest of the plan went forward, even if the League warships wiped these pirates out and stopped the message?
Beyond those considerations, they had Dominguez. That meant they had others. They'd taken Pluto Base. If that didn't prove Vitorino's role, it would show the League's responsibility. If they'd taken survivors to other worlds, with all of this evidence, nobody would believe him. The neutral worlds wouldn't see him as surviving a dastardly Coalition-backed coup using stolen ships, they'd see him as a League dupe or agent. His legitimacy in the neutral worlds would be fatally compromised. The calculations made the necessary course clear. "Prepare to initiate the shutdown on a third of the fleet.”
Carvalho turned and stared, open-mouthed. "Sir?"
"You heard me. A third. We can sell that. The rest will be enough to destroy or drive off the League military ships when they arrive."
Carvalho blinked furiously, his mouth still agape. "But it would ruin the plan! The League won't forgive this. They'll attack our world!"
"And then they would face the neutral worlds joining the Coalition. The collapse of what influence they might manage to save otherwise by disavowing Hartford and the other officers." Vitorino shook his head. "No, this is the only way. We play along with this. Perfidious traitors were working for rogue League officers. It will give them a dignified means to avoid—"
Vitorino looked just in time to see Carvalho swing the gun up. He was too stunned to move until instinct forced him. But it was too late. A violet light seared across the left side of Vitorino's torso until it scorched the chair he'd just jumped from. Pain filled his body. He clutched at his chest, as if he could heal the wound the weapon inflicted on his heart. His eyes widened as he glanced up at Carvalho's enraged expression and the very vicious, curved xaser pistol in his hand. "Carvalho…?" His voice was weak and distant.
"You spineless coward," Carvalho spat. "I won't let you betray the League. I won't let you destroy everything I've worked for!"
"What?" A realization came to him. "You… you work with…"
"Yes. I am a soldier of Society. I have been for years. Waiting for the chance to undo our ancestors' crime against us."
"Crime?"
"Leaving Earth," Carvalho yelled ferociously. "They should’ve stayed and been part of the new world, not clinging to old lives and attitudes! Look what their cowardice got us. We're just another corrupt, dirty planet filled with the selfish, arrogant, and cruel! People like you and Caetano were the best we could manage? Of course I went to the League. They offer us a new beginning. A chance for everyone to know true unity and equality!"
Vitorino tried to speak but couldn't. The pain in his chest was too great. Deep down, he knew he was dying, even if his mind rebelled at it.
He didn't get the chance. Carvalho pointed the pistol and fired again. The violet beam sliced cleanly through Vitorino's forehead. Powerful, concentrated x-rays burnt a line through his brain.
For Vitorino, that violet flash was the last light he saw. He didn't see Carvalho return to his digital pad and press the activation key.
Carvalho brought up the fleet's commlink and listened, with satisfaction, as system command tried desperately to restore contact with the crippled Lusitanian fleet. Using the same systems, he brought up a magnified visual from a nearby observation buoy, showing the League Q-ships bla
st away at the stricken Lusitanians with their EM weapons. One by one, the Lusitanian fleet shut down.
He smiled at that. The pirates could broadcast all they wanted. Vitorino was dead, but nobody knew it. He would, of course, later reveal the horrific crime to the people, of Coalition-backed militants murdering Prime Minister Vitorino as part of their coup attempt, but until then, the security apparatus thought his orders were from Vitorino. Once he was finished, nobody on the planet would be in a position to stop him from assuming power. In time, he would even get to sign the treaty to join the League, but for now, he would play the game Vitorino laid out, the aggrieved leader of an attacked world rallying his neighbors against the treacherous zealots in the Terran Coalition.
The plan was nearly complete. All that remained was for Captain Zervakos' ships to arrive.
26
An old and familiar tension gripped the command deck crew of the LS Marat. Captain Zervakos knew and welcomed it. It would keep his officers alert and ready for the unexpected while they watched the star labeled TR-209 shine in the distance.
The operational clock displayed on the command center's main holodisplay was approaching the zero hour. Then they would effect a jump to Lusitania. If all went according to plan, they'd arrive to see a disabled Lusitanian fleet and a victorious force of their own crewed Q-ships. Then would come the grim task of opening fire on their comrades. Some would have to die to sell the ruse, but of course, what were those handfuls of lives compared to the many millions to be saved with the Coalition defeated? The end to the war and the redemption of the many billions, trillions of human beings held chained to the backward superstitions and the selfish capitalism of the Coalition's elite? Their brothers and sisters in arms would die happily, knowing their sacrifice was for the greater good of Society.
It was all the reassurance they'd have, so they clung to it, Zervakos in particular.