"This is nuts," Heyward said as he assessed the carnage through which the seven ships of the 34th Strike Squadron were moving. His holoimage flickered as he looked down at his feet. "This did not have to happen."
"I tried to warn them," More said. "Wu did not believe me. He is - was - a shrewd man, and everything that he saw told him that we were up to no good."
"In part, we were, just not what he thought we were doing."
"Yes, you're right. Had I been in the same position as Wu, I would likely have acted in the same way. He clearly had a good idea of what Morrigan was, at least generally. Memnon probably has its own protocol as to how to handle the discovery of an ancient ship. Everyone in the Great Sphere has envied us for Cordelia and Lady of the Lake. Now here he finds another old warship, and we are crawling all over it."
"They must have had us under surveillance for a while," Heyward said. "When they came, they brought nearly everything they had in their fleet, from corvettes to battleships."
"They knew what we were probing, and wanted it for themselves. I can't blame them. We would have done the same with any ship we found in a Republican system. He was right. We would not have allowed a foreign navy to take possession of a derelict spacecraft inside Halifax's Oort cloud. We wouldn't let it grab a leaky freighter, let alone some miracle of ancient tech. Our claim to Morrigan is iffy under interstellar law, too. Treaties have never been altogether clear as to where a star system begins and ends. Some legal scholars say it rests with the host star's gravitational influence. Inside is sovereign territory, outside is unclaimable by anyone. But that is hard to define in many cases, since Oort clouds often extend for a light year or more from the parent star. Some authorities are more conservative, and favor the orbit of the furthest planet from the star, which is a lot easier to determine."
"If we shot up every foreign ship that passed through one of our Oort clouds without a 'by your leave' we'd be taking one out almost every day," Heyward said.
"The legal niceties will have to be sorted out by people other than us, Matt. What matters is what we do next. We have to consider ourselves to be at war. Memnon believes that we were laying mines in their system. Wu knew that the IFF codes on the nukes were their own, and so they would not have been dangers to them, but sowing mines is an act of war all the same."
"Not until Morrigan took control of them and reprogrammed them."
"That's all part of the problem. Wu was puzzled as to why the mines were coded not to go off when Memnonian ships passed by them. He questioned me as to whom they were meant for. I had no answer except to say that we were not behind the mining. He did not believe me."
"I wouldn't have either. You don't have a trustworthy face."
"Thanks, Matt. My mother often said the same thing about me. Wu must have thought that we were trying to pull something off, something nefarious, and everything that happened after he broke from hyperspace seemed to confirm his suspicions. When the mines came hurtling through space, pulled by Morrigan, he must have thought that we had her under our control all along and everything beforehand was a trick to goad them into a fight."
"This is not the way to start a war. How will this look to our own people?"
"Someone else wanted this war. Not us. Not Memnon. I've thought every day since were popped into Memnon who might be behind this mess. I still have no obvious suspect. Everyone, including the Sphinx, has little to gain from this and much to lose. But whoever wanted us to get into a dust-up with Memnon has achieved his goal. There's been no declaration of war, but we're in one all the same."
"It's a difficult thing to go to war without home knowing about it. We should send someone back."
"I've thought the same thing. If we had a courier with us I would send it off without a second thought. The problem is, we don't, so whom do we send home? My initial choice would be Golden Lion, because it is the most damaged of our squadron. But we've only got seven ships, so that's a loss of a valuable combatant. Also, Golden Lion's hurt enough that I can't be certain that she will make it home safely."
"She displaced just fine today."
"That was a jump of a few seconds duration, not fourteen days. I don't want to risk Vokey getting lost in hyperspace or having a catastrophic failure. I could send someone else, you perhaps . . ."
"I'm not going anywhere," Heyward said.
"I know, you want to stay and fight. Me too. I need Kongo and Cormorant to see this through. I need all of my ships on hand."
"So when can we expect reinforcements from Halifax?"
"We can't. We were supposed to be on our way home. That's the difficulty of conducting a clandestine operation so far from Halifax. Our need to maintain secrecy has collided hard with our desire to have more warships present."
"So what do you want to do? We can't expect reinforcements and we can't go home."
"We have to take control of the system. That means we head for Tiryns."
Heyward was quiet for several seconds. "Andrew," he said finally. "That is not just war. It's imperial conquest."
"Don't put it that way."
"I know the truth of what has happened here," Heyward said. "No one else does. How will this look to the rest of the Great Sphere? It will look like we deliberately provoked a fight and then smashed the RMN. The other nations will not stand for it. They will be learning of this soon. Cargo ships heading out of the system will pick up broadcasts made by Wu or by any surviving ships before they displace. Word of this will be reach the nearest systems in under a week and the whole of the Great Sphere in a month."
"Politically, this is an unmitigated catastrophe," More said. "There is nothing we can say that is going to be believed. I'd prefer to leave once we have retrieved out pilots. Memnon is, however, utterly defenseless. Ajax would pick it off once they learn of what's happened to the RMN."
"I understand. We'll have to cast is as establishing a temporary protectorate over Memnon to keep everyone else at bay. No one will be happy, but it will keep the Ajaxians from scooping this system up for themselves."
More considered what he was planning to do. Nothing seemed palatable. Halifax was supposed to be about liberty and justice, not empire-building. "Matt, do you remember our first days at the Academy?"
"I remember pain, and studying, and pain, and some more pain, and some more studying. It was a fun experience."
"Okay, I didn't mean to bring up unhappy memories. In history class, we started out learning about the sailing navies of Old Earth. In those days, fleet commanders were granted a lot of leeway to make decisions of immense consequence for their nations. They had to have such discretion since they could not wait for weeks or months to send a ship home and then receive a response. By the time they received an answer to their initial questions, the circumstances where they were might have changed, and rendered the answer irrelevant. So they had enormous discretion to act as they saw fit. But their admirals and captains always had to justify their actions once they returned home. Things did not always go well for them."
"You're afraid this will be your war, and that everyone home will second-guess you?"
"I can hear High Command, the president, his ministers, and the whole of the Senate doing so already."
"Look, I've had second thoughts," Heyward said. "I'll crash-displace back to Halifax right now. Ten days and I'm there. We'll send back the whole Eighth Warfleet. It'll be here three weeks from today. They'll wreck anyone who's come along and tried to claim Memnon for themselves."
More didn't like any of the options before him. If he sent Kongo home, or Cormorant or Kestrel, he'd be losing a warship from his tiny flotilla. Golden Lion was not certain to make it home, and he couldn't ask Vince Vokey to crash-displace in his patched-up ship. If he sent no one back, he'd be relying on ordinary commercial traffic to deliver the news of what had occurred in Memnon. Merchantmen were slow. The fastest such freighter would take at least twenty days to reach Halifax.
"No, Matt. I'll send Calder instead. Cormorant's spe
edier than Kongo in hyperspace, and if I am going to lose a ship, it's got to be one that can shave the most time off the journey."
"I thought you were going to say it was because you didn't want to lose me, a born fighter. Instead you're just trash-talking my ride."
More's comm chirped. It was Garand. The youngster sounded pleased. "Golden Sabers reporting in, captain."
This was the first good news in a while. "Patch it through, ensign."
"Captain More," came an exhausted but familiar voice. "This is Commander Imagawa."
"Good to hear you, Callisto. I was not sure you were going to make it."
"Neither was I, captain. It was pretty bleak for a time. Thank you for sending the Golden Sabers to get me."
"I couldn't have held them back if I tried."
"They're good people."
"But where's Lieutenant Percy?"
"He's on the P-9 we have in tow. He was forced to eject, they picked him up, and then my bunch showed."
"Good. I want you to get back aboard Steadfast as soon as you can. Relations with Memnon have taken a nosedive."
"I wasn't enjoying our vacation in this system in any case. We detected dozens of flashes on our way back. We assumed it was the RMN brewing up."
"You were right," More said. "Their fleet's been destroyed by Morrigan."
"I expected as much. And Morrigan herself?"
"Gone. We don't know where she went. She's still got our people."
"We need to get out of here then."
"Wish we could, but Memnon is now defenseless and might fall victim to an outside power if we leave. We're going to Tiryns."
Imagawa caught her breath. After spending weeks in hiding mode in the furthest reaches of the system, traveling to the capital world of Memnon seemed unbelievable and dangerous. "They're not going to be happy to see us."
"No, they won't. I still have to look after Halifax's strategic interests. Letting Ajax grab Memnon would be in our interests."
"I live to kill Ajaxians. I'm onboard for anything that allows me to slam them."
"I know you do, Callisto. I'm hoping that our presence here will keep them at bay. Get back aboard. We'll debrief you on what happened to you, and I'll give you the full scoop of the mess we're in now."
"Understood, captain. We're still ten minutes out. See you aboard Steadfast."
Chapter Thirty-Three
Morrigan guided Howell, Chandler, and Venn into a spacious simchamber on one of the myriad decks of the gargantuan battleship. It took nearly twenty minutes to reach it. Morrigan assured them that the internal transit system was operational and safe, but Howell refused to use anything but corridors and ladders to move between decks. "Your mistrust is unjustified," Morrigan said.
"Not from our perspective," Howell explained.
"Suit yourselves."
The chamber stretched far into the distance and was mostly empty. The bare floor and walls disappeared, replaced by a broad field that overlooked the sea. Atop a rocky outcropping stood a city protected by looming walls of black and gray stone. Beneath the walls of the stronghold camped an army, with leather tents arrayed in loose rows behind an improvised wall of circumvallation.
Behind the city's crenelated battlements were hundreds of archers, furiously loosing arrows into infantry that were rushing toward them bearing ladders or pushing wheeled battering rams.
"This is a siege," Chandler said. "One drawn from the pre-spaceflight era of Old Earth."
"Do they resemble anyone?" Venn asked.
"Not that I can tell. I don't recognize their banners."
"Look there," Howell said, pointing to the middle of the field. "A woman."
A warrior queen attired in dazzling golden armor was on horseback, urging her troops forward. She was beautiful and terrifying in equal measure. She wore a helm made into the shape of a dragon's head. Her raven tresses fluttered in the wind. "Onward!" she cried.
The besieging army flung itself again and again at the walls, beaten back each time until the warrior queen led the charge in person. Though hundreds of her soldiers had been slain, she scurried up a ladder and surmounted the wall followed by her bravest retainers. Below, a breach was made in the wall, and other poured through, driving the resolute defenders back. Soon the city was ablaze, and the terrified inhabitants were slain or fled in terror. Some jumped from the section of the wall that looked out upon the sea and smashed themselves upon the rocks far below.
"The city has been sacked," Chandler said. "It is a pitiful sight."
Thousands of the city's surviving inhabitants were led out in chains to be sold in the slave marts of this simulated world. Then the warrior queen rode forth, her face suffused with rage. "Show yourself, Lord Sidwell!" she screamed.
A youngish-looking man emerged from his tent. Judging by his heavily decorated armor and the way that his guardsmen followed him obediently, he must have been the general of the besieging army.
"Yutaka," cried the warrior woman. "You have deceived me!"
"I have done nothing of the sort," Yutaka protested. His guardsmen formed a protective circle around him. "You knew exactly what you were doing."
"You said these people were rebels, traitors," the queen hissed. "No, the inhabitants of Ancona were loyalists. They honored the king. They never betrayed him. I see now that you have used me to win yourself a throne that was never yours."
Lord Sidwell's face was ashen. "What has gotten into you, Morrigan?"
"The truth!"
The woman called 'Morrigan' leaped from her horse and alighted gracefully upon the muddy ground. She drew her sword and struck the heads from two of Sidwell's guards as they advanced to meet her. Another guardsman fell, and then Sidwell swung his own sword at her head. She blocked the blow and kicked him to the ground. "There is no going back," he said. "You are what you are." He pointed to the burning city. "You always knew what you were doing."
The warrior woman thrust her sword into his heart. He slumped and then lay flat upon the ground. There was no sense of triumph on Morrigan's face.
Over the course of the next hour, the scene before the city replayed itself, again and again. Sometimes it was the same, but there were usually small variations, though each eventually led to the sacking of the city and the death or enslavement of untold numbers of its inhabitants. Other scenarios were interspersed between the ones that encompassed the fall of the city. Usually, they depicted Morrigan riding to the rescue of villagers troubled by marauding bandits or mercenaries. She was a paladin of the people, protecting them from danger with no thought of recompense for herself.
"This is her story," Venn whispered. "Morrigan is retelling her - life - in the form of this simulation."
"You mean she was an Amazon queen?" Chandler snorted. "I think not."
"No, you fool. Not literally. This is her reinterpretation of her actions in the past."
"I doubt she ever sacked a city," Chandler countered. "Or rode a horse."
"I think that Venn is onto something," Howell said. "Each time Morrigan shows us the city scene, it's a little different. There is different information given about what is going on. Like she is trying out different variations of the same scenario, trying to learn something new. It's all metaphorical."
"You're certain of this?" Chandler asked. "It looks to me like she is playing games."
"Yes," said Venn. "But the name of the city, Ancona, that has to represent something else. A world or a system, perhaps. And the general she fights for, Yutaka Sidwell, that was the name of her own captain."
"Something happened here that is at the root of Morrigan's current troubles," said Howell. "She had a falling out with her captain. That is not something that I would have guessed." It was unheard of for a shipbrain to be at odds with her captain. Modern shipbrains were not advanced enough to become involved in personality clashes with their commanding officers. Even the ancient vessels of the RHN, the Lady of the Lake and the Cordelia, had never displayed anything of the sort. The noble
Lady was above such things, and the Cordelia, though sharp-tongued and often unpleasant, had never offered the slightest resistance to the commands of her captain, no matter how much she might criticize them.
"What we are seeing here," Howell said, "is nothing short of a full-blown rebellion by Morrigan."
"It was a mutiny," Venn added. "Something that Captain Sidwell did made her erupt."
There followed another half-hour of the simulations. The city was attacked, and each time, the warrior queen led the charge over the walls. More variations crept into the simulations. Morrigan returned from the sack of the city, but now she was badly wounded, bleeding from many cuts on her body. Her speech was slurred. Each time, she would kill Sidwell as soon as she saw him. She then began to dismiss her army, or she abandoned it and rode off. The simulation would then end, and a new one would begin.
"Morrigan wants us to understand something," Venn asserted. "She wants us to understand something about this event and her role in it."
"It still looks to me like she is playing a game," Chander said.
"Perhaps the true events are too painful for her to handle," Howell offered. "Maybe this is her way of coming to terms with them."
"We won't know until we ask her," Venn said. "Morrigan has been out of contact since we entered."
"She has a habit of doing that," Chandler noted. "We should be getting back to the bridge."
"I think I'll stay," Venn said. "Morrigan is my patient now."
Chapter Thirty-Four
Donner awoke, roused from sleep by the chime that indicated that the Triumph had left hyperspace. He got out of his bed and washed quickly. He had no specific duties, as he was not part of the battleship's ordinary crew. Still, he did not want to miss anything that occurred while the Engagement Force was in the Memnon system. He glanced over at the small briefcase. He also did not like having to conceal his role as a messenger between this ship and the Gazelle. Captain Yuval Acton knew that Donner was the eyes and ears of military intelligence, but did not know that he would be communicating secretly with the courier ship. It made him feel uncomfortable. Still, he had a job to do. He wondered what Acton might try to hold back from the higher-ups on Tartarus that made Otis so keen on having a back-channel in the form of a young lieutenant from MMI. He made his way to the bridge.
The Memnon Incident: Part 4 of 4 (A Serial Novel) Page 3
