“You look good,” Marius said, as she showed off her dress. The long green outfit clung to her body and showed off her hair to best advantage. “Shall we go?”
Tiffany smiled as she took his arm, though it bothered her. Marius had said she was beautiful when they’d become partners as well as husband and wife, but he hadn’t really seemed to notice her or anyone else when he’d returned from Nova Athena. Oslo had said the pills he was taking caused impotence, as well as a number of other side effects. Marius might not be quite impotent, but he wasn’t paying much attention either. She kept her worries to herself as they walked through the corridor and into the conference room. Somewhat to her surprise, there was fresh coffee and cakes on the table.
He’s acting more like his old self, she thought, as Marius let go of her arm and pulled a chair out for her. Why does that bother me?
She said nothing as the rest of the seats started to fill. General Thorne, looking like the cat that ate the cream; Comptroller Tully and Larimore Hammond, both looking worried; General Maringa and Admiral Singh, their expressions schooled into masks that revealed nothing. And, at the rear of the table, Ginny Lewis. Tiffany caught her eye and winked, even though she knew it was risky. They hadn’t been able to find much time to talk since New Year’s Day.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Marius said. He sounded like his old self too, but there was a harder edge that worried her. “This may turn out to be a long meeting, so feel free to eat, drink, and request breaks to go to the head.”
There were some smiles, but Tiffany couldn’t help thinking that too many members of the cabinet looked concerned. The only one who didn’t was General Thorne. He had regular private meetings with Marius, Tiffany knew all too well. What had the two of them cooked up together?
“Major Jackson,” Marius said. “Perhaps you could tell us what your agent reported?”
Major Jackson shot General Thorne an unreadable look, before leaning forward. “The basics of the report, sir, were that Admiral Vincent is planning to switch sides, in exchange for being recognized as the undisputed ruler of the Tara Sector. It would seem the rebel leadership is planning to accept this offer, assuming that Admiral Vincent keeps his word and allows them to pass into Tara Prime without delay. Our agent, sir, noted that the rebels would definitely prefer to avoid tangling with the defenses of Tara Prime.”
“So they would,” Marius agreed.
Tiffany stared at him. If the betrayal of Roman Garibaldi had been enough to tip Marius into a fit of rage, why wasn’t he so angry with Admiral Vincent? She knew enough about the military situation to understand that Admiral Vincent switching sides would open up a chink the defenses, allowing Roman Garibaldi to bring his fleet to AlphaCent before he encountered anything that could stop him from proceeding further. And yet Marius seemed almost amused.
“I think you can all understand why this has the potential to be massively disruptive,” Marius continued, after a long moment. “But ah... we know and he doesn’t know we know. We can turn this to our advantage.”
He sat back, pressing his fingertips together. “It is, I admit, a situation that could turn dangerous with frightening speed,” he added. “My first thought was to recall him, but without a valid reason, he was quite likely to smell a rat. And then I thought about sending out another fleet, yet his people would probably resist any attempt to winkle him out of his orbital fortress. The rebels might force their way into the system while we were fighting yet another civil war. It looked as though our best bet was to offer him a better bargain than the rebels.
“And then it struck me. Admiral Vincent has made one tiny, but fatal, error.”
His voice hardened. “His youngest children are still on Earth,” he said. “And, by all accounts, he loves them.”
Tiffany felt her blood run cold as all the pieces fell into place. Family ties were important. It was why she’d been married off to Marius in the first place, creating a blood tie that should have kept him from contemplating rebellion against the Grand Senate. And it would have worked, too, if the Grand Senate hadn’t decided he needed to die anyway. She knew very little about Admiral Vincent, but threatening a man’s children to get him to do as one wanted was horrific...
... And she knew them. She’d met his kids, back before Marius had left Earth for Nova Athena. She knew them...
She glanced at General Thorne and knew, with a sickening certainty, just who was responsible for the idea.
“Our original plan was to dispatch three battle squadrons from Home Fleet to reinforce the defenses of Tara Prime,” Marius was saying. Tiffany dragged her attention back to him with an effort. “Those forces would have been placed under Admiral Vincent’s command. I believe he would have delayed matters long enough for those squadrons to arrive, knowing it would give him a chance to capture an extra twenty-seven superdreadnaughts to strengthen his hand. Instead, I will dispatch seven battle squadrons and take command of them personally. We will not, of course, give Admiral Vincent advance notice of my coming.”
“Sir,” General Maringa said. “That will leave the defenses of Earth quite thin.”
“The remainder of Home Fleet can hold against any reasonable threat,” Marius assured him, kindly. “Right now, the major threat is the combination of the rebels and Admiral Vincent’s ships. They must not be allowed to pass through the Tara Sector unmolested!”
“Yes, sir,” General Maringa said, reluctantly.
“Once I arrive at Tara Prime, Admiral Vincent will be informed about his children and precisely what will happen to them if he refuses to do as I say. He will not be given any chance to come up with a plan to warn Garibaldi and the Outsiders, or to come up with a way to evade my orders. Instead, he will invite the rebels forward, as planned, and lure them directly into a trap. The rebel fleet will discover, too late, that they are facing ten battle squadrons and thousands of starfighters.”
Tiffany fought to keep her face impassive. She believed firmly in the Federation, she believed in the unity of the human race... but at what cost? Kidnapping children and using them as hostages...? What had her husband become? And how far would he go to accomplish his aims?
“They won’t be able to avoid an engagement,” General Maringa said.
“No, they won’t,” Marius agreed. “They will, in fact, be allowed to enter the system without being molested. The fortresses covering the Asimov Points will allow them in, as if they were friendly ships. And then the gate will slam closed behind them, trapping their ships at Tara Prime. Even if they set out at once for the system limits, they’ll still find it hard to avoid a missile duel.”
He smiled at them all. “Once the rebel fleet is smashed, I will detach five battle squadrons to fight their way back up the chain and reoccupy every system as far as Nova Athena. The loyalists will, of course, be rewarded for remaining loyal; the rebels will be put in front of a wall and shot. And once our survey units report the location of the Outsider worlds, we will send units to those systems and scorch the planets clean of life. The threat will come to an end, ladies and gentlemen, in less than a year.”
Tiffany couldn’t keep herself from shuddering. How many innocent people were about to die?
“Victory in the war,” Marius added, “will win us the time we need to rebuild our industrial base, put our economy on a sounder footing, and correct the mistakes of the past. The population of Earth, as riotous as always, will be brought under firm control, with mass emigration encouraged to thin the herd. The contraceptive program will be enhanced, ensuring that the birth rate will be cut sharply. And we will use similar programs, if necessary, to prevent the other Core Worlds from falling into the same trap.”
He paused. “Comments?”
Tiffany wanted to ask what he intended to do with Admiral Vincent and his children, once the coming battle was fought and won, but she didn’t quite dare. In truth, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Marius might understand the value of mercy, yet he’d watched helplessly as Roman Garibaldi
betrayed him. He’d see Admiral Vincent as just another traitor, an asshole who turned on him at the worst possible moment. Admiral Vincent would be lucky if he and his family were merely banished to Paradise, rather than tortured to death and thrown out of the airlock.
“I have a question,” General Maringa said. “What happens if Admiral Vincent refuses to cooperate?”
“Then we overwhelm his command fortress as quickly as possible, before the rebels can intervene,” Marius said. “I doubt there are many rebel sympathizers amongst them, not when Admiral Vincent will have crammed their ranks with his own supporters. Once Vincent is dead, we’ll offer amnesty to any of his supporters who switches sides. After the war is over, they can be scattered amongst the navy or offered settlements on newly-opened colonies.”
“There is another concern,” Tully said. “My office has been fielding calls from various parents over the removal of Admiral Vincent’s children from Blyton Towers. The version of the story they heard was that the kids were brutally beaten, then dragged out of the building and into the snow by their hair.”
Tiffany blanched.
“That isn’t true,” General Thorne snapped.
“That may be immaterial,” Tully said. “What matters, General, is what people believe.”
“No one is going to give a shit about a bunch of rich kids getting a kick up the backside, let alone a beating,” General Thorne said. “I assure you that most of Earth’s population would cheer if we threw the little assholes into the arena and told them to fight for their lives.”
“But the percentage of the population that does believe it, General, happens to include men and women of ability and talent, men and women we happen to need,” Tully insisted. Beside him, Hammond nodded. “This is their children who reported the whole affair to them.”
“Then they should be told that good little children don’t tell lies,” General Thorne said, coldly. “I can send you the medical report, if you wish.”
Tiffany cleared her throat. “Why was there a medical report if there was nothing wrong with them?”
“All of our... clients are given a full medical examination when they enter our facilities,” General Thorne said. “It’s standard procedure. In this case, we have four little brats, aged fourteen to eighteen, one of whom hit the ground hard enough to bloody his nose. No significant damage, no reason to panic. And, as they’re not actually criminals, they’re being well treated. I dare say having a chance to drop that repulsive accent is doing wonders for their morale.”
“No doubt,” Marius agreed. “Is this likely to be a significant problem?”
“Of course not,” General Thorne said, before Tully could open his mouth. “Blyton School has outlived its usefulness. Any parent stupid enough to send his kids there deserves everything he gets.”
“An attitude they will not share,” Tully said. “Blyton School isn’t known for strict routine, harsh discipline, or anything beyond teaching children how to behave in High Society. There have been complaints about children being told that they’re not to do something, even if it’s something actively harmful — or criminal. Apparently, being told not to pick on others is traumatizing.”
He looked directly at Marius. “I can reassure them, as best as I can, but it would be better to keep the matter under wraps as much as possible,” he added. “The last thing we need is industrialists thinking they’re disposable.”
“Make sure they receive copies of the medical report,” Marius ordered. He cleared his throat, loudly. “Is there any other business?”
No one said a word. Tiffany looked at him and then around the table, wondering who would show the nerve to question his decision. But Thorne had probably thought of the idea in the first place, Jackson, Singh and Maringa understood the danger of Admiral Vincent switching sides, Tully and Hammond were too exposed to risk an open disagreement with a tyrant and Ginny was far too junior to open her mouth without a direct invitation to speak.
And I can’t disagree with him, not openly, she thought. Her father had made her attend enough classes on how to be a good wife. A man hates being contradicted by his wife in public.
“Then we will hold one final meeting before we depart,” Marius said. “Dismissed.”
He rose. Tiffany followed him, feeling numb. She understood the realities of the universe far better than many of the girls she’d known in High Society, but...
Dear God, she thought, as Marius led the way into their suite. I don’t love you anymore.
It was a chilling realization. She’d thrown her lot in with Marius, at least in part, because she had nowhere else to go. Her family had sold her to the Grand Senate for a pittance, for the confirmation that they were still important... Marius had been kind to her and she’d loved him for it. But now, he’d crossed the line. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that peace could come without bloodshed, that the Federation couldn’t be reunified without a fight, yet there were limits. Her husband — and General Thorne — were planning mass genocide. And while the millions who’d been casually sentenced to death had no faces, she could imagine the faces of Admiral Vincent’s children.
“We can win this,” Marius said, once the door was closed. He swung around, took her in his arms and kissed her with his old fire and passion. “The war can come to an end.”
Tiffany almost pushed him away. A day or two ago, she would have wanted it, demanded it... now, she hated the thought of touching him. And yet, she knew she had no choice. He might be hurt if she refused him, he might lash out... or he might ensure she had no chance to do something, anything, to stop his plans. She could kill him, she reminded herself as she pressed her lips against his, but the result would be chaos. The Federation needed someone in place to take control.
At least I was taught how to fake it, she thought with grim amusement. His hands tore at her dress, pulling it down and allowing her breasts to bob free. And he won’t be able to tell the difference.
Afterwards, she held him tightly as she contemplated her options. “Are you going to leave me on Earth?”
“Someone has to remain in charge of the planet,” Marius said. “And you did a good job before.”
Tiffany felt sour. She would have given anything, one day ago, for such honest praise.
“I would prefer to come with you,” she said. She’d been advised to be subtle — she’d been told it was better to manipulate a man into deciding to do whatever you wanted him to do — but she wasn’t sure how. “I’ve handled negotiations for you before and these... these will be the most complex and vital negotiations of your career. One mistake, and Admiral Vincent will turn on you.”
Marius gave her a long considering look. Tiffany held herself still. Marius was easily three times her age and an experienced naval officer, old enough to know how to read people. Did he suspect her loyalties, now? Or was he so short on trustworthy people that he couldn’t decide where to leave her?
“Very well,” Marius said, finally. “You’ll come with me.”
Tiffany kissed him, gently, and then headed for the shower...
... Trying, all the while, to think of a plan.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Timing was everything, of course. The cursed time-delay between systems, as always, messed up the very best of plans.
—The Federation Navy in Retrospect, 4199
Marble, 4102
“The scouts have returned, sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said.
“Download their readings and put them on the display,” Roman ordered.
He leaned forward as the Marble System appeared on the CIC’s display. Hannalore Vincent’s briefing hadn’t been inaccurate, he noted; the system’s defenders had established powerful defenses around the Astrid Point, as well as smaller defenses around the Yellowstone and Harper Points. The McQueen Point didn’t seem to have received anything like as much attention, but it was a cul-de-sac. There was little point in wasting resources guarding a system that had little worth taking, let alone no strateg
ic value.
“They’re going to see us coming, sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said.
Roman nodded in agreement, feeling oddly uncertain how to proceed. If Hannalore was telling the truth, if her father could be trusted, they could proceed through the Yellowstone Point to make their way to Tara Prime. And yet, every instinct called for him to go through the Astrid Point instead, shortening the journey down to two transits. Speed was vital, after all, particularly if Admiral Vincent wasn’t as trustworthy as they hoped. But, at the same time, he did know the defenses of Astrid and Maben were strong. Battering them down would cost his fleet dearly.
“And they’re going to have plenty of time to send an alert up the chain,” he agreed. “Are there any starships on duty?”
“A squadron of destroyers, sir,” Lieutenant Thompson said. “There’s nothing else.”
“That you can see,” Roman reminded her, absently. Admiral Vincent could hide a thousand cloaked superdreadnaughts within the vastness of the system and, as long as their crews were careful, there’d be no hope of seeing them until it was too late. “But they’d be wary of making a fight for Marble.”
He scowled as he studied the display. He’d been taught, time and time again, that trying to be clever was a good way to lose the battle. Admiral Vincent, assuming he was untrustworthy, would understand the dangers as well as himself. And if he was trustworthy, there was little to lose by following his suggestions. But then, Roman knew all too well, there was something to be said for trying to be clever, if only because the enemy wouldn’t expect any flexibility. Orthodox naval tactics really consisted of nothing more than finding a target the enemy had to defend and charging at it.
The Barbarian Bride (The Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire Book 3) Page 25
