by David Weber
Dieter looked around the shocked faces and wondered ff even the Battle of VX-134 had produced such an effect. Howard Anderson's battle had been Man's first with a rival stellar empire; this news was worse.
He glanced up as Taliaferro walked briskly to his seat. He wanted nothing else in the Galaxy so much as to see Taliaferro's expressSon, to read the emotions in the dark, arrogant face of the man who'd orchestrated this disaster. The man whom he, God help him, had helped create this catastrophe.
Taliaferro dropped into his chair almost as the chime struck, and Dieter understood. He'd timed his late arrival to preclude any buttonholing, but how would he deal with it? How would he manage this session? "Ladies and Gentlemen." David Haley's voice sounded as ff it had been pulverized and glued unskillfully back together. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Assembly, the Legislative Assembly is in session." He paused and cleared his throat, his face pale in the vast screen.
"On February 12, 2439, Terran Standard Reckoning," Haley said slowly, as ff seeking protection in the formality of his phrasing, "Task Force Seventeen of the Terran Federation Navy Battle Fleet entered the system of Bigelow in the Kontravian Cluster for the purpose of suppressing the secessionist elements therein. It was hoped--was his voice broke, then steadied.
"It was hoped this force was strong enough to overawe the rebels. It was not. The Kontravians refused to surrender, and, after the failure of lengthy negotiations, Fleet Admiral Forsythe moved against them." He drew a deep breath, and a strange strength seemed to possess him, the strength which comes only to those who have faced the worst disaster they can conceive. When he continued, his voice was cold and clear.
"Task Force Seventeen," he said quietly, "no longer exists. Apparently--the message is not entirely clear, ladies and gentlemen--but apparently mutiny first broke out aboard the flagship. It spread. Within a very sort space, virtually every ship was involved. Most--was he drew another breath his-comwent over to the Kontravians." They'd known, but the shock which ran through his audience as the words were finally said was actually visible. Dieter looked away from Haley, fixing his gaze on Taliaferro, willing the man to show some reaction, but the Gallowayan had himself under inhuman control.
"There was some fighting between loyal and mutinous elements," Haley continued. "Our only information comes from a courier drone from the superdreadnought Pentelikon. The drone carried an Omega message." The chamber was utterly still; Code Omega was used only for the final communication from a doomed ship.
"As nearly as we can determine," Haley said into the hushed silence, "the entire task force--minus those units destroyed in the fighting--went over to the Kontravians or was sggbsequently captured.
As of the time Pentelikon's lsvnnEnon drone vJas dispatched, the count of survivors was approximately as follows: eight monitors, six superdreadnoughts, seven carriers, eleven battle-cruisers, twenty-one heavy and light cruisers, forty-one destroyers and escort destroyers, and virtually the entire fleet train.
At least six destroyers, three light and heavy cruisers, one carrier, and two superdreadnoughts were destroyed in the ighting.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," the Speaker said very quietly, "this means, in effect, that there are no loyal survivors rom the entire task force." The silence grew, i pounds possible, even more complete. Most of the delegates were staring at Haley's image in horror. Very few seemed capable of coherent thought--and that, Dieter thought, was what was desperately needed now.
He was reaching for his own attention hutton when the @u sound of another bell cut the air. An edge o pounds uncontrollable bilerness crossed the Speaker's face, but when he spoke, his voice was as impersonal as ever. "rhe Chair recognizes the Honorable Assemblyman for Galloway's World." Dieter leaned back as Taliaferro appeared on the screen. His face was taut, but any sense of guilt was well hidden as he looked out over the depleted delegations for a long second, then spoke.
"But we must not allow shock and shame to paralyze us. However terrible the news, it is our responsibility to act and act promptly.
Consider, my friends--the Kontravian traitors have acquired the equivalent of their own navy out of this.
The ships of Task Force Seventeen will he turned against us, the legitimate government of the Federation.
Threats of force and force itself may be used against us by these damnable traitors! Our defenses are strong; it is unlikely any rebel attack will penetrate Innerworld space, and our loyal commanders will surely move quickly to prevent the spread of this insidious rot, but we must accept that some additional fraction of the Fleet may join this contemptible attack upon us. I have said before this Assembly has agreed with me--that this is a time for strength, and so it is. Our only option, ladies and gentlemen, is to show our steel, our determination that this criminal conspiracy shall not succeed!
We must mobilize the rest of Battle Fleet.
We must call in every loyal ship, every loyal military man and woman. We must crush the heart out of the Fringe World conspiracy! We must show these barbarians that we--not thee--are the representatives of civilized humanity! And with God's help, we wl show them that! We will defeat them, and we will hunt down and execute every traitor who has dared to raise his hand against the might and dignity and justice of the Terran Federation!" A roaring ovation sealel his words, and Dieter shuddered. Damn the man] Damn him to hell! This disaster demonstrated the fundamental, destructive insanity of his entire self-serving policy. It should have stunned him. Instead, with a few brief words and a simplistic appeal to patriotism and pride, he had the Assembly eating out of his hand! Bile rose in Dieter's throat and, for the first time, he allowed himself to wonder ff such an. Assembly was even worth saving.
He bowed over his hands in defeat. He'd tried.
As God was his witness, he'd tried. But he'd failed, and the Taliaferros and Waldecks and Sydons had inherited the Federation... or whatever smoking ruins would be leA. He felt hot tears behind his eyes and turned in his chair. He would have no more of it. He would resign his seat, leave them to their madness.
A hand touched his shoulder, and the concern and desperate faith in Heinz yon Rathenau's eyes stopped him. Of all the New Zurich delegation, Heinz saw most clearly. He understood, and as Dieter saw the faith in those green eyes, he could not leave it unanswered. He owed it to Heinz, to the Federation, and most of all--comGod help him-- to Fionna MacTaggart.
"Chief?." Rathenau asked softly. "Are you all right?" "Yes, Heinz." Dieter rested his hand on the fingers grippin his shoulder and squeezed gently. "Yes, I'm all rstght now. Thank Y." He saw Rathenau's confusion and hoped the young man would never realize just what that "thank you" meant. But whether young Heinz ever did or not, all that mattered now was the battle which must be fought. And as he thought of Heinz, as he thought of Fionna and Taliaferro's greed, anger returned. He was not like Taliaferro, but for today, just for this morning, it was time to take a page from Taliaferro's book. His hand stabbed the button, and the attention bell chimed softly, "The Chair," David Haley's amplified voice cut through the hum of excited conversation, "recognizes the Honorable Assemblyman for New Zurich." Dieter stood in the ringing silence and knew the Chamber of Worlds was agog with curiosity. How would he respol? How could he possibly continue to oppose Taliaferro now that they faced a life and death struggle for survival itself?. But he let his bitter eyes sweep over them for long, long seconds before he finally spoke, and when he dstd, his voice was a whip.
"Can't you see what this means? Are you all so blind you can't recognize reality just because it happens to clash with your comfortable image of yourvs as the last bright hope of humanity? By God, you don't deserve to survive! Think of the date, you idiots!
Task Force Seventeen mutinied five months ago.t Who knows what's happened since?" His words shattered the rising anger like a lightning bolt. They'd lived with the reality of the Fringe's slow communications all their lives, had learned to use their faster communications for ruthless advantage, yet until he threw the date in their faces
, they hadn't even considered the time element. But now the implications were before them, and their palms were suddenlv slick with fear.
"Yes," Dieter sneered. "It takes a'long time for courier drones to come that far--and who knows where other drones were sent? We have one from a single unit of the task force. Do you seriously think that was the only drone launched? Do you seriously think other Fleet units haven't heard by now? Sixty percent of the Fleet is Fringer. Sixty percent. Can none of you understand what that means? We don't have the numerical advantage in the civil war you've provoked--thet do!" His words unleashed the ugly, snarling pandemonium of terror. For over a year, he'd hammered away, warning them, pleading with them, and all but a minority had ignored him. They controlled the Fleet. They spoke with their every word backed by the suppressive might of the Federation's military. And now, suddenly, they saw the nightmare at last, and the man who'd warned them, who'd earned their contempt for his weakness, had been right all along.
Dieter's voice thundered above the tumult.
"Yes! Yes flog the Fringe! Ignore their legitimate eom-plaints! Call them barbarians because they're more honest, more desperate than you are! And now see what you've created! God help me, I helped you do it--comnow I must bear the same guilt as you, and the thought makes me sstck." "But what are we going to do?" someone yelled.
"My Ged, what are we going to do?" "Do?" Dieter sneered down at him. "What do you think we're going to do? We're going to fight.
We're going to fight to save what we can, because we have no choice, because the only alternative is the utter destruction of the Federation--comt's what we're going to do. But understand this, all of you! The days of contempt for the Fringe axe over. Fight them, yes. But never, never call them 'barbarians" again! Because, ladies and gentlemen, ff they really are barbarians, we're doomed." His words plunged them back into silence. A fearful, lingering silence. "We're doomed because they have Task Force Seventeen, ladies and gentlemen, and by now they have other ships. By the time we can get our own courier drones to the Fringe, they may have all of Frontier Fleet--perhaps even the Zephrain Fleet base." He felt the sudden whiplash of terror that thought woke in the delegates who knew what it meant, but he hammered the point mercilessly hoine "I know what that means, and so should you.
"And ff they act as what you've called them--if they truly are barbarians and choose to seek vengeance rather than relief--they will not use those ships and weapons in self-defense. Oh, no, ladies and gentlemen! If the Fringers are barbarians, you will find those ships here, striking the Innerwords, and you will find those weapons turning your precious planets into cinders." He hissed the last word, and its chill ran through his audience like a wind.
"So get down on your knees," he finished.
"Get down on your knees and pray you were wrong." H cut the connection with a contemptuous flick. Silence roared about him, and he was heartsick and frightened, yet he could almost feel Fionna at his shoulder, and knew he had finally paid the first installment on his debt. A bell chimed.
Dieter looked up and saw what he'd known he would. Simon Taliaferro was pressing for recognition, his shoulders hunched, his face bitter.
He had no choice but to respond, and Dieter knew that if his security showed the tiniest chink, he himself was a dead man.
"The Chair," Haley said, "recognizes the Assemblyman from Galloway's World." Taliaferro appeared on the screen, and his face shocked Dieter. The compelling strength had waned, and the arrogance was mixed with desperation. It struck him suddenly that Taliaferro had actually never considered this possibility. That he, too, had missed the significance of the drone's date. That he'd brushed aside Dieter's warnings about the Fleet simply because his blind, overweening confidence had never considered the chance of failure.
But though Dieter might hate him, Simon Taliaferre had cut his way to power with courage as well as conspiracy, and he gathered his shaken will to respond.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Assembly," he began, his formal courtesy somehow pathetic after Dieter's contempt. "My friends. The Assemblyman for New Zurich--was he drew a deep breath. "The Assemblyman for New Zurich may be right. Perhaps we have lost more Fleet units since the... mutiny. But it changes nothing. Nothing? He shouted the last word, and suddenly he seemed to find fresh strength. Dieter recognized the signs. Like himself, Taliaferro was unleashing his anger, letting fury sustain him.
"We are still the Federation, and they are still barbarians! Even if they have every ship in Frontier Fleet, even if they have every dispersed unit of Battle Fleet--even if they have the Zephrain Fleet base xfl--whichat of it? Before they can injure us, they must come to us, ladies and gentlemen! They must fight their way through For.-tress Command: They must deal with the remaining strength of Battle Fleet.
They must deal with the Reserve, ladies and gentlemen. Fifty percent of Battle Fleet--,fifttJust percent -comis in mothballst How will they deal with that when we mobilize it? Even if they have Zephrain, surely the base personnel-- personnel rigorously scr?ened for loyalty and integrity--destroyed the facilities tggetore they could be taken! And what will they use for shipyards?
"Let them come against us, ladies and gentlemenl It will prove that I was right--that we were right--whichenough we called them barbarians! Driven to it?
Poppycock! This is a coldly calculated act of treason. This is--must be--the end product of a long and careful conspiracyl We have driven them to nothing--but we tostdrive them. We will drive them to destruction and retribution! Our worlds are safe behind our fortifications; their worlds will lie open to our attack when the Fleet is fully mobilized!
Let us teach them the true meaning of war, my friends!
Let us cauterize this cancer of conspiracy in the only way they understand--with the flames of war and iron determination!" It took all Dieter's strength to keep his dismay from his face. He'd shaken Taliaferro, but the Gallowayan was rallying his forces, and without the Outwodds not even a IswRE-CRO unified' bloc of Heart Worlds and the few Corporate World moderates could fight the political steamroller Taliaferro controlled.
"And ff it is a long war, what of it?" Taliaferro demanded hotly. "We have fought long wars before and come back to victory. We will do it again!
We have the strength to crush these traitors-it is only a matter of mobilizing that strength! My friends! As chief of delegation for Galloway's World, I place the combined building capacity of the Jamieson Archipelago--the greatest concentration of industrial might in the Galaxy--unreservedly at the service of the Terran Federation! Let us see how the rebels like that!" A roar greeted his words--the desperate roar of a panicked crowd which suddenly sees salvation.
Dieter hammered his call button, but Taliaferro ignored him as he ignored Speaker Haley's urgent, amplified pleas for calm, smilirg fiercely out at the shouting, clapping delegates. He'd done it. He'd salvaged victory, and his career from the very teeth of disaster.
And in that moment of heady political triumph, the sealed doors flew open and the Sergeant at Arms raced down the aisle, followed by the red cloak of the Lictor General. A shockwave of quiet fanned out from them, and Taliaferro's fierce grin faded as he saw them.
The two men hurled themselves up the steps to Haley's side, and only later did Dieter come to recognize the blind providence or the brilliance of David Haley--which had left the Speaker's mike open. Every ear in the Chamber of Worlds heard the message the Lictor General gasped into Haley's ear.
"A message from Galloway's World, sir!
It-it's terrible! Skywatch HQ is gone! A dozen destroyers blown apart! And the Jamieson Archipelago!" "What about the Archipelago?" Haley's question was sharp. "Gone, sir! The yards, the Fleet base, half the Reser-vation-just.., gone, sir. It was a nuclear strike..." The Lictor General's voice trailed off as he realized the microphone at his elbow was live, but no one noticed. Every eye was on Simon Taliaferro as he swayed, his swarthy face pale, his eyes blank, and stumbled silently away.
Yet whatever they paid him, it woul
dn't be enough. again. Not with the shipping fees those Corporate World vlasti extorted from the Fringe. For thirty years he'd harvested his wheat and spikebalm, and still he was perpetually in debt to the shipping lines.
He glanced up at the clouds. His grandfather had always claimed Novaya Rodina's steppes were almost as beautiful as Old Russia's, but for the color of the sky. Fedor wouldn't know; he'd seen only recordings from the motherworld, and he'd always suspected they touched the things up a little--surely no sky could be that blue!--comb he knew his own sky well. He only hoped he finished his plowing before the storm struck.
Thoughts of the weather turned his mind to the storm ripping through the entire Federation. He couldn't believe the tales coming out of Novaya Petrograd! Did those madmen think they were all back in the days of the tsar? That the Federation was run by Rasputin? And who were thetj, these men who called themselves "Kadets" once more? Kerensky?
Trotsky? Fedor had no more love for the Corporate Worlds than the next man, but the Federation was the Federation! It had risen from the flames of Old Terra's Great Eastern War and reached out to the stars, protecting its people as it placed them on worlds light-years from their birthwodd. It was the Federation of Howard Anderson and Ivan Antonov. Four centuries it had stood---what were a hundred years or so of mistakes against that? And Novaya Rodinans were Russians: they knew a thing or two about endurance.
But these crazy Kadets---to Madness!
Even ff they sue-ceeded, where would his wheat go? There had to be some form of foreign exchange--comand who in the Fringe needed foodstuffs? What Fringe farming world could sell Novaya Bodina the manufactured goods she needed?
So Fedor plowed and sowed, for the day would come when the er. men realized they couldn't succeed. It might be necessary to chastise them a little first, but in the end the Federation would take them back. And when it did, Fedbledr Kazin would have a crop ready, by Ged!
He looked up as thunder muttered and the squall line in the east swept closer. He wasn't going to finish today after all: best to stop at the end of this furrow and head home. rasha would have supper waiting.
