Chapter 14
“Warfare is condensed into strategy, logistics, treasure and psychology.”
Devlin Sinclair-Maru, Integrity Mirror
The so-called squadron meeting with Commodore Zanka only included three human beings, including Saef and Commodore Zanka. The final warm body belonged to a heavyworld Marine officer with a shaved, tattooed skull and an imposing physique. He sized Saef up in one look as Saef entered the capacious study on Commodore Zanka’s flagship, Dragon.
Zanka himself clearly hailed from a heavyworld, but sedentary years had softened him, at least physically. “You arrived too late for the squadron meeting, Captain, but you would have had nothing to contribute, and I can’t spare anyone to waste time or blood on duels, so it’s just as well.”
Saef had entered the study five minutes after the appointed hour…after waiting fifteen minutes at the airlock for permission to come aboard Dragon. The incivility was so blatant that Saef felt little from the barb.
Since no question was asked, Saef said nothing, taking the proffered seat beside the Marine major.
The commodore sat glowering at Saef for a moment. “Well, perhaps you’re not a complete fool after all.” He gestured to the bulky Marine. “This is Major Mahdi. He will head your Marine detachment on Tanager.”
“No, Commodore, I don’t believe he will,” Saef said.
The commodore stared at Saef, his face suffusing in anger. “Are you refusing an order?”
“Surely not, Commodore. We both know the Articles expressly place crew selection, including Marines, in the hands of the captain, so you couldn’t possibly be ordering me to violate the Articles.”
“You impertinent ass!” the commodore thundered.
“Perhaps, Commodore,” Saef said, staring blandly at Commodore Zanka. A moment of silence stretched between them, and Major Mahdi seemed to watch the interplay with faint amusement.
“You are worse than they said,” the commodore snapped at last.
“Perhaps so, sir,” Saef said. “Would you care to share my orders with me?”
“Orders? Hah! It’s simple enough. Fleet Intel got word of a small enemy task force moving to occupy either Delta Three or Little Pacifica,” Zanka said with a disdainful curl to his lip, and Saef quickly looked up both systems in his UI.
“Since Delta Three is a joke of a system, Fleet Intel says the strike’s going to Pacifica, and I agree,” the commodore continued. “My squadron transitions to Pacifica immediately, except for one ship. Tanager will transition to Delta Three on an observation tour. Crew and supply your ship for a six-month cruise. You are to observe only. At the sight of any enemy action you will transition to Core and relay any intel.”
Saef listened to the brief orders, frowning slightly as he read the details on both systems within his UI.
“I take it you don’t approve of your orders, either, Captain,” Commodore Zanka said in a mocking tone. “Looking forward to six months of doing nothing?”
“The orders are good, sir, thank you.”
Commodore Zanka looked disappointed at Saef’s equanimity. “Well…very well, then,” the commodore said, gently thumping a heavy fist on his desk. “I know you’ve only just set foot on your ship, but you will crew as best you can and depart the Strand in two days, or less.”
Saef had suspected it would be bad, and made no expression, once again seeming to disappoint the commodore, who stared at Saef’s blank expression expectantly. “Very well, Commodore,” he said.
“Well,” the commodore said, momentarily nonplussed at Saef’s non-reaction, “send confirmation when you are free of the Strand. I should be near my transition point, so we likely will not communicate until you are recalled, Delta Three is attacked, or your six-month cruise ends.”
“I understand, sir,” Saef said, his mind racing through possibilities. Two conclusions quickly crystalized.
The commodore grunted, pursing his lips. He fumbled a clumsy gestural, and Saef’s written orders pinged into his UI. “I have nothing further to add, Captain,” the commodore said. “Enjoy a quiet cruise while we put this whole rebellion down.”
Saef stood. “I wish you luck on that task, Commodore.” Before the commodore could reply, Saef turned to the steel-eyed Marine officer at his side.
“Major,” Saef said, “it appears I have need of an officer to head Tanager’s complement of Marines.” Both Major Mahdi and Commodore Zanka stared at Saef in surprise. “I know it’s a more fitting post for a junior officer, but perhaps you would consider stooping to the command?”
Both heavyworlders seemed bereft of speech as Saef nodded a casual salute to the commodore and moved to the door. Saef heard the commodore begin to rant as the hatch slid shut, “The damned gall—!”
Minutes later, Saef and Inga moved rapidly down the Strand, a steady stream of officers, ratings, and bulky Marines moving in both direction around them, the dumb-mech trotting along behind.
“Two days,” Inga said, meditatively munching a food bar.
“Two days,” Saef repeated. “Can you send crew requests to your top picks? Get them to Tanager for an interview as quick as we can.”
Inga’s eyes flickered. “Okay, done,” she said. “I just put up a general notice, too. But an observation mission? Aren’t we just wasting our time?”
Saef just smiled. “I’ve got the Marines handled, so we just need ratings and officers.”
“Just,” Inga repeated, her broad smile underlining the impossible task.
“Engineering and maintenance before anything else.”
“You realize your Marines will likely be loaded with rebels or spies,” Inga said as they passed a branching airlock grid leading to dozens of docked vessels. “Or assassins.”
“Perhaps,” Saef said. “I thought it might be better to have the spies and assassins where we can see them. Need the blighters if we’re going to be cloaking and daggering, right?”
“Perhaps so. I wish we could get just a few loyal—” Inga broke off, her eyes flickering.
“Someone just boarded Tanager,” she said, stopping in place as she watched the vidstream projecting from Loki. “And she just collared Loki.”
“She?” Saef inquired.
“Lone female. Blonde. Civilian dress.”
“Let’s go,” Saef said, taking off at a more rapid stride. “We’re not far away.” Saef heard the subtle click as Inga’s submachine gun released from its magnetic holster, undoubtedly hanging ready beneath her cloak.
They turned onto the dock port and quickly approached Tanager’s airlock. It cycled open properly and Saef stepped in, realizing that whoever awaited them might have sufficient Fleet clearance to just vac the two of them inside the airlock. The outer door closed them into the spacious lock, and the inner door opened, just as Saef began to feel his tension rising.
Inside Tanager the lights were dimmed, and the air carried some hint of a sweet, exotic scent.
Inga sniffed, “Smells a bit better at least.”
Saef and Inga left the dumb-mech crouched on its six legs, after Inga nodded almost imperceptibly toward the bridge. The sensor array on the mech showed hints of life.
They both remained intensely conscious of the fact that their every movement was likely scrutinized as they made their way to the bridge.
A lone figure awaited them, seated on the command seat. Saef quickly took in the salient details. The woman did not appear to be armed except for her short sword resting across her knees. Her attractive face and figure presented an immediate impression of blended disdain and intensity, her eyes jigging from Saef’s face to Inga’s and back.
“How may we help you, madam?” Saef inquired, standing still, some distance from the pretty intruder.
The woman’s eyes narrowed and she exhaled a slow breath. “That is the question, isn’t it?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t think we—” Saef began, but the woman continued on as if no one had spoken.
“That’s the question, and so far I’m not pleased with the answers that I’m getting.” She stood from the command seat, fluidly snapping her sword back into place at her slender waist.
“Who are you?” Saef bluntly inquired.
“I am the boss, Captain,” she said. “I’m in charge. I’m the alpha female. You work for me.”
“Fascinating,” Saef said. “Perhaps a name for you might jog my memory.”
The woman’s eyes flashed, flicking to Inga and then back to Saef. “Dismiss her for a moment so we can talk.”
“I think not, madam. She’ll remain while we talk.”
“Oh really?” the woman inquired in a dangerous tone.
“Yes.”
“Need protection from big, scary me?”
“Perhaps,” Saef said. “Really, I’m frightfully busy right now, madam, so if you can get to your business, and leave me to my—”
“Leave you to prepare for your worthless cruise?” the woman finished for Saef. “Six months doing nothing? And when you return, this uprising will either be over, or too big to stop.”
“She’s Winter Yung, Imperial Consul to Battersea,” Inga said in a colorless voice.
Saef raised an eyebrow, and Winter Yung waved a dismissive hand. “Doesn’t signify at this moment. What’s of more import is that I’m the one on the other side of your QE comm.”
“I really don’t know what you’re speaking of, Consul,” Saef said, schooling his face to a blank.
“Well, I’m impressed,” Winter said, eyeing him. “Bess really did keep my identity secret from you.” She looked searchingly at Saef. “And you do a fair job concealing your thoughts. But you can be sure it is in fact me pulling the strings.”
Saef’s UI pinged with a line-of-sight message consisting of a page of chat log. It was a copy of his own secretive QE comm conversation.
“Very well, Consul,” Saef said. “I accept that you’re my…handler.” Winter’s lips twitched at this, her eyebrows raising slightly. “What can we do for you?”
“Probably nothing, now,” she spat. “Challenging Nifesh to a duel? Did you think that was a subtle move? Did you think at all?”
“I believe you’ll agree that an accusation of cheating is a clear violation of the Honor Code,” Saef said. “For the honor of my Family, I—”
“Honor? Honor?” Winter snarled. “You realize all this Honor Code shit is just a state-sponsored religion, right?” Before Saef could answer, she continued, “My great-grandfather didn’t come down from the mountain with stone tablets. He just built a lever for manipulating the peasants, like every other state religion.” She turned her back, striding slowly into the bridge, her blond queue swinging, she spun, her eyes almost wild. “Despite the popular axiom, wars aren’t fought over religion. They’re fought for power and money. But”—she held up a finger—“the peasants don’t fancy dying for your money and power. They prefer to die for…” She put a hand to her heart and looked heavenward. “…something greater than themselves.”
Her eyes and hand dropped and she stared levelly into Saef’s eyes. “So spare me the religious drivel my great-grandfather invented.”
Saef pursed his lips. “I’m afraid that the drivel and I are inseparable, my lady.”
“Your Family hasn’t changed at all,” Winter said, shaking her head.
Saef bowed slightly. “Thank you.”
“It isn’t a compliment.”
“I suspect that you would be congratulating me on my cleverness had I managed to eliminate Nifesh in a legal duel.”
“Who says Nifesh is a problem for me, Captain? I’ve got more than one barking dog in my employ.”
Saef shrugged. “Perhaps. Old-fashioned honor has its advantages, you’ll see.”
Winter shook her head. “How will we see? You banished out to Delta Three for six months doing nothing?”
“First,” Saef said, “the commodore pushed his own Marines on me, so on this cruise we’ll have some cloak—and probably some dagger, too.” Saef raised two fingers. “Second, I won’t be gone for six months, or even six weeks, mostly likely.”
“Oh?” Winter asked, clearly skeptical. “How do you come to that conclusion?”
“Because the enemy isn’t going to the Pacifica system. They’re coming to Delta Three. One way or another, that will end my cruise.”
Winter’s eyes narrowed. “And how have you divined this, while apparently the entire Fleet strategic apparatus didn’t?”
Saef shrugged. “I can’t imagine why this isn’t obvious to everyone. Fleet Intel says an enemy strike force is assembling to attack either Pacifica or Delta Three. Since Delta Three only sports a small station and not much else, it doesn’t offer any material benefit to the rebels.”
“Exactly,” Winter said. “Leaving you marinating in my great-grandfather’s preachy platitudes out in Delta Three.”
Saef shook his head. “No. The enemy can’t last without access to Shaper tech, Shaper fuel, and so on.”
“Yes,” Winter said, rolling her eyes, “that’s why they chose the systems they have, and surely looted them down to the bone.”
“That can’t last, and they know it. That’s why they must take Delta Three.”
Winter stared blankly at Saef, and Inga shifted from her watchful pose to look sidelong at Saef.
“It’s just over a light-year from here…the only habitable system within six light-years.”
“You’re babbling,” Winter snapped. “Who cares if it’s one light-year or fifty? You think they’re positioning to attack Coreworld with old stutter-drive tech? You’ve lost your mind!”
Inga’s eyes widened. “The armada,” she said.
“Yes,” Saef said. “The Shapers are due within a few years.”
Winter took an impulsive step nearer, her narrowed eyes snapping between Saef and Inga, her pupils appearing unnaturally large. “What,” she growled, “are you talking about?”
“Their only chance to get the Shaper tech they’ll need for a long campaign is to get their own connection to the Shapers,” Saef said. “So they need a base within range to send a planetary transmission to the Shaper armada. They’ll take Delta Three, and begin transmitting an invite to the Shapers. When the armada arrives here in Core, the transmission from Delta Three will be arriving in a steady stream.”
“And Delta Three is the only system close enough to get a planetary transmission to Core system in time for the armada,” Inga finished.
“In the clear, at light speed, yes,” Saef said.
Winter stared but Saef saw the flickering of her eyes as she accessed her UI. “How can no one have seen this?” she said in a low voice.
“Because Fleet is corrupt and compromised,” Saef said.
“It must be worse than we thought,” Winter said. “Did you mention any of this to Zanka?”
“No.”
“Good. Now, what do I do?” Winter asked the air, pacing.
“In two days I head out for Delta Three. The enemy will either be on-system when I arrive, or soon after. With this in mind, I wonder if you’ll keep painting a target on my back.”
“Whatever do you mean, Captain?” she purred, looking back over her shoulder.
“The effort invested in killing me makes no sense, Consul,” Saef said. “Because they desired someone else to be the most junior captain in Fleet aside from me? Because they don’t want a non-heavyworlder holding the test record? It hardly seems likely.”
“What exactly are you suggesting, Captain?”
“They—whoever they are—spent millions of credits to eliminate me because someone made me threatening or interesting, or something of the sort,” Saef said. “And now I suppose you’ll leak my observations about Delta Three and see who tries to kill me next.”
Winter laughed. “Interesting theory, Captain. Wouldn’t expect such imagination from you.”
“You deny it?”
Winter shook her head, smiling. “Oh, the first is close enough to the truth.” She paced to the command seat and leaned her sinuous frame against its worn back. “When you performed so well on the test, a few hints circulated that you were some kind of Imperial shoo-in.”
“So Nifesh wasn’t barking mad,” Saef said in a cold tone. “He thought you cheated me through the test somehow.”
“So it would appear,” Winter mused. “Of course, when you challenged him and threw your commission in his teeth, you likely destroyed most of the mystique I’d built around you…making you so much less valuable to me.”
“Meaning I stopped being such a juicy target.”
“Something of that nature, Captain,” Winter said. “Like you said, a junior captain is really not interesting enough to stir the waters. You were somewhat interesting there for a time…and now, if you can pull some kind of win out of this Delta Three business, you could again become an effective tool for the Emperor.”
“For you.”
“Where it regards you, my voice is that of the Emperor.”
“Then perhaps the Emperor would be so kind as to provide a ship that I can actually do something with,” Saef said.
Winter laughed. “Oh, no, no. This game is played with much greater subtlety than you might think. A direct hand in your affairs would be too blunt. It would eliminate all the intriguing mystery that you could represent.” Winter stood and slowly paced toward Saef as she spoke. “That mystery has already smoked out a few turncoats.”
She placed a hand flat on Saef’s chest. “No, you must pull something out of Delta Three using the tools you’ve been…endowed with.”
“I can’t possibly stop any invasion with this ship,” Saef said, looking down into her eyes, feeling her fingers pressing into the muscles of his chest.
“You don’t need to,” Winter said, brushing her hand slowly across the planes of his pectoral muscles. “You merely need some symbolic victory.”
“When my orders clearly state that I am only to observe.”
Winter withdrew her hand and walked sinuously toward the companionway. “You’ve already seen how that works,” she said. “Get a victory of some kind, and I may yet maneuver you into a much better command.”
“And make me a bigger target, eh Consul?” Saef said to her retreating back.
Without turning she said, “Surely one of those damned preachy books explained about the glory of dying for the Emperor. Am I right?”