Empery

by Michael P. Kube-Mcdowell

  As the tour proceeded, Wells tried to build in his head a picture of what life would be like aboard Triad, a picture that would keep the ships and their crews real to him when they were far removed from his sight in the Mizari Zone. But the picture refused to coalesce. Only the mechanical elements were in focus: he strained unsuccessfully to bring the human element to the forefront.

  Presently Wells realized that he was responding to a design philosophy completely antithetical to that of all other deep-ships. The packets and surveyors, even the flagships, had been built as living places for human beings, tiny worlds cased in synthmesh and alumichrome. Triad was more akin to an intrasystem tug or mining ship, where every other consideration was subordinate to its function.

  But even beyond that, Wells sensed that Triad had been designed and built as an integrated organism, a cyborg with interchangeable brains. The bridge stations were merely places to plug in key components, the tanks and berths merely places to store the spares.

  Following his voluble guide from stern to bow, Wells had less a sense of being inside a hull than of crawling through the guts of a machine awaiting the installation of its animating force. Everything he saw said that the prospect for human pleasures was small, the possibility of death very real.

  Wondering if he was asking too much of the men and women who wore the golden trigon, Wells continued his inspection. He sat in the captain’s battle couch, peered into the heart of the drive, tasted the output of the food synthesizers. He tested the knowledge of the riggers aboard with his questions, and their workmanship with his eyes and hands.

  After more than ninety minutes Wells and his guide left the carrier by the forward access hatch. On the bulkhead between the hatch’s inner and outer doors, directly below the anodized plaque bearing the carrier’s official designation “T 301,” Wells discovered an unauthorized plastic sign that bore the legend AVENGER. The lettering was rendered in a bold freehand style, the oversized A drawn as a pair of pincers, poised to crush a planet already in flames. “Where did this come from?” Wells asked, pointing.

  “One of the riggers, probably. The Triads weren’t given names by the Flight Office, so I’m afraid the crews come up with their own. I’ll see that it’s removed, sir,” the guide said apologetically.

  It was the first purely human touch Wells had seen that morning. But more than that, it was a welcome sign that the human spirit of Avenger’s crew would survive the privations their duty aboard her would enforce on them. “You’ll do nothing of the kind,” Wells said. “It’s a good name. It stays.”

  “Certainly, sir. Would you like to see Falcon, sir?” the guide asked. “I understand that Mr. Yamakawa isn’t expecting us for another forty minutes.”

  The armed and armored reconnaissance ship was moored in the adjacent refit bay; originally Wells had planned to include it in his tour.

  “No,” Wells said with a small, contented smile. “I’ve seen enough.”

  Wells spent the rest of the morning huddled with Yamakawa. That afternoon he called Hogue, Shields, and all the Lynx Annex department heads together for a war conference. He did not waste words.

  “In three days the survey ship Munin will cross the Perimeter,” Wells told them. “We can’t prevent this violation. We can’t predict whether the Mizari will detect the incursion or what reaction they might have if they do. So we have to ready ourselves for the worst. As of this moment I am officially placing the Defense Branch on a full war footing.”

  There was a stirring among those gathered, but Wells ignored it and went on. “I have already this morning ordered the Triads deployed to their patrol circles beyond the Perimeter as soon as they are operationally certified. Within six hours Triad One will sail from Boötes Center. I am assured that within four weeks Triad Three will be ready to sail from here. All Status-A mission rules are in effect—the ships will be armed and authorized to defend their sectors.

  “I am also ordering the reconnaissance ships Eagle and Kite, now at Perimeter Base, to begin their intrusive survey of the members of the Ursa Major Cluster. Kite’s initial destination is Megrez. Eagle will attempt to make contact with Feghr, the isolate colony believed to be on 82 Lynx. As soon as its crew is complete, Falcon will leave here to join the mission—

  “Commander?” interrupted one of the department heads.“It seems to me that all this does is multiply the risk—”

  “By the time the first survey is made, all three Triads will be positioned to respond swiftly to any threatened hostilities,“Wells said firmly, shaking his head. “Believe me, we’ve analyzed the risks very carefully.”

  “I am counting on everyone’s very best effort toward seeing that this transition comes off smoothly. Now, more than ever, we cannot afford any failures. The entire Defense Branch must function as a single, coordinated whole.

  “Unfortunately our monitoring of transmissions from Munin provides further evidence that communications between here and the Perimeter are more severely affected by the interference than communications elsewhere within our territory. The situation is, in fact, now worse between here and the Perimeter than it was between Earth and Lynx when my staff and I decided to relocate here.

  “So to guarantee that command integrity will not be compromised during the critical period ahead, I have decided to move my staff to Perimeter Base. We will take the next two or three days to work out any short-term logistical problems with you, and then we’ll be heading out. Because of the possibility of significant developments while we’re en route, we will run the leg in four-a-day pogo mode—more or less a monthly check-in schedule from your perspective.

  “I’m sure that you have many questions, but most of them are particular to your specialty, so let’s hold them for individual conferences. File your requests through the governor’s office.

  “One last matter,” Wells said, standing. “Due to some reassignments related to these changes, I am going to need anew Chief of Staff for Defense. Colonel Shields, would you be interested in coming out to the Perimeter?”

  Shields looked startled at first, then beamed. “Thank you, Commander Wells. I would be honored to have the opportunity to serve in that capacity.”

  “Then the job is yours. I’ll see that your new orders are cut immediately,” Wells said, and stood. “That’s all, gentlemen. Let’s get on it.”

  “I want an explanation,” Chancellor Sujata said. Her tone was icy, the muscles of her face rigid.

  Governor Hogue raised his hands in supplication. “Chancellor, I had no reason to think that Commander Wells was exceeding his authority by continuing on to the Perimeter. And even if I had known, it wasn’t my place to stop him.”

  “How can you say that?” Berberon demanded. “Aren’t you governor of this station? That makes you responsible for everything that happens.”

  Rising from his chair, Hogue turned his back on them and walked to the étagère on the facing wall. “Ambassador, I don’t think you appreciate my position here,” he said, absently adjusting the positions of the objects displayed on the shelves. “To the extent that I am an official of the Operations Branch, my job is to facilitate the work of our clients—the other branches of the Service. But beyond that I am a militarygovernor. I have two masters. I am to treat instructions coming from the Defense Director as though they came from the Operations Director.”

  Hogue turned back toward them. “Now tell me where in there you find a basis for me to give orders to Commander Wells. No,” he said, shaking his head, “if there are policy disagreements between the two branches, or between the Directors and yourself, they have to be settled on a higher level than a station governor.”

  “I accept your assessment of your authority, Governor,“Sujata said placidly. “Now please give me your assessment of mine.”

  “Why, your authority here is absolute. You are the Chancellor.”

  “Very well. Triad Three is not to leave this station.”

  Hogue’s face reddened. “Chancellor, I can’t prevent
it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Triad’s sailing orders come from Wells himself.”

  “I am countermanding them. I am ordering you as governor of this station to see that Triad Three remains in port.”

  “And I’m telling you, I can’t issue such an order.”

  “The order comes from me, not you.”

  Hogue released an exasperated sigh. “I accept your authority, Chancellor. Probably the Defcom people here do too. But exercised through proper channels—through the Defense chain of command. Not through the likes of me.”

  “Are you saying you think they’ll disregard that order?” Berberon asked.

  “I know they will. Chancellor, they are well trained and well disciplined. And part of good discipline is knowing who’s got the right to tell you to jump.”

  “But you do control station services,” Berberon said. “Cut the power to the yards. Freeze them out. Disable the hangar doors. You can order that, can’t you?”

  “Yes,” Hogue said. “I can do that. If that’s what you really want.”

  “Why shouldn’t we want it, if it will do the job?” Berberon asked.

  “Triad One has already sailed. Triad Two is firmly in the hands of Defense. You won’t be able to call either of those back unless you do it through Wells.”

  “So? We’ll take our victories a piece at a time,” Berberon said.

  Hogue frowned. “It just seems to me that all you do by keeping Three here is weaken us just when we most need to be strong.”

  “Now you sound like Wells—” Berberon began, disgusted.

  “Governor Hogue is right,” Sujata said, unable to keep the tiredness out of her voice. “Wells doesn’t need three Triads to start a war. Denying him this one won’t solve the problem. It may even make it worse, because he will need all three and more to fight one.” She sighed. “Would you leave us alone, please, Governor?”

  “Of course,” Hogue said.

  The moment the door closed behind him, Sujata pitched forward in her chair and buried her face in her hands. Though she held back the tears, her own tortured breaths were loud in her ears.

  “Janell—” Berberon said tentatively.

  Though embarrassed by her display, she could not bottle up her despair any longer. “We’ll never catch him,” she said helplessly. “We’ll never stop him. It was already too late when we started.”

  “You can’t let yourself think like that,” Berberon said, more stern than compassionate.

  “What was it Teo told us Wells had said? ‘When we find them, we will have to fight them. And we will find them.’ That’s the way it’s going to be. It’s no more complicated than that. Except that there’s no way we can win.”

  “Where is Teo?” Berberon asked, nobly trying to change the subject. “I want to get his opinion of what Hogue said.”

  “He went to report to the Flight Office with the rest of the crew,” she said, sitting upright and pressing her steepled fingers against her lips. “He’ll be up presently.”

  Silence descended on the room, as though the mention of Farlad had constituted a pact not to continue until he was there. Sujata stared out at the arboretum Hogue’s office overlooked and tried to summon up a semblance of enthusiasm.

  “You know we’re going to have to follow him to the Perimeter,” Berberon said at last.

  “I know,” Sujata said. There was a long pause, and then she added with a resigned sigh, “I don’t want to get back on that ship. But I suppose there’s no good reason to postpone it.”

  “Governor Hogue said that Charan will be pogoing,” Berberon said encouragingly. “There may even be a chance we can beat Wells to Perimeter Command.”

  Sujata nodded politely and reached for the com key. “Find Captain Hirschfield,” she said. “I want to see him.”

  “Yes, Chancellor.”

  Sujata released the key, then suddenly tabbed it again.

  “Yes, Chancellor?”

  “Also, call the Security Annex and have them send up a couple of marshals. Put them somewhere Hirschfield won’t see them and have them wait,” she said. She looked up to find Berberon staring at her curiously, and smiled. “You know how we Maranit are when we don’t get our way.”

  “Testy,” Berberon said with a hint of a smile. “Can I be somewhere else?”

  “You most certainly cannot.”

  When Hirschfield arrived twenty minutes later, it did not require a Maranit upbringing to be able to read his thoughts. There was a look in Hirschfield’s eyes that said he resented being called there, a look that said, I thought I was finished with you. The set of his jaw telegraphed his determination not to cooperate.

  Sujata read all that and more in him, but none of it mattered. It was no longer important to avoid conflict; indeed, she no longer had that luxury.

  “Captain Hirschfield, how quickly can Wesley be ready to continue on to Perimeter Base?”

  Hirschfield’s gaze narrowed. “I don’t understand your question. This is Wesley’s home port now. Or did you mean, how long would it take her to get there if needed?”

  “Answer the question I asked. How much time will you need to get Wesley ready to sail for the Perimeter?”

  Hirschfield was trying to guard his expression but with little success; his apprehension came through clearly. “The operational plan for Wesley specifies an alert response time of two hours—”

  Glancing at the clock before she spoke, Sujata said, “Very well. Please return to the ship and supervise the preparations. Sailing time will be 11:30.”

  “Are you calling a drill, Chancellor?”

  Sujata folded her hands on her lap. “No, Captain. I am telling you that in two hours we are continuing on to the Perimeter.”

  Hirschfield began shaking his head before Sujata was finished. “You don’t understand. Wesley is the auxiliary fleet flagship. As such, her role is to be available to the command officers at the secondary command base, which is Lynx Center. Wesley is staying here.”

  “I understand perfectly. You seem to be the one having the difficulty. This is not a request or a suggestion. Ambassador Berberon and I are going to Perimeter Command. Wesley is taking us there.”

  “No, sir,” Hirshfield said sharply. “Because you insisted on a quick getaway from Central, we left there without operational certification of Wesley’s weapons systems. Wesley has fifty man-weeks of final checkout due her, and she’s going to get it here and now. I’m not about to take her farther out into the Perimeter without a fully operational lance.”

  “Captain Hirschfield, I am Chancellor of the Service. I am ordering you to take me to the Perimeter.”

  “I’m sorry, Chancellor. Adding yourself to the manifest back at Central was one thing. Even fiddling with our sailing date. But you’re asking too much. We’re under a Status-A alert. Wesley is staying here so that she can do the job she was built for.”

  “I’m not asking anything, Captain. That was an order.”

  “I take my orders from Commander Wells and the Flight Office, Chancellor. Not from you.”

  For a long moment they stared at each other with eyes that were hard and unyielding. Then Sujata raised one eyebrow questioningly as she turned away and touched the com key.

  “Yes, Chancellor?”

  “Please send in my other visitors.”

  “Yes, Chancellor.”

  A moment later the door opened and two lithe, well-muscled security officers came through the opening. They continued two steps into the room and then stood at attention, awaiting their orders.

  “What is this?” Hirschfield demanded.

  Sujata ignored him. “Captain Hirschfield is under arrest for willful insubordination,” she told the officers. “He is to be held in custody until the mustering-out procedures are completed. The Ambassador and I will forward our depositions to the judge advocate by the end of the day.”

  “Yes, Chancellor,” the taller officer said. “Captain?”

  Hirschfield shot a
black, putrescent look of pure will-to-harm in Sujata’s direction, but allowed himself to be led away. When they were gone, Berberon made a clucking sound deep in his throat. “He didn’t play that very smart.”

  “He didn’t think he had to,” Sujata said tersely. “He thought he had the better hand. Who’s second-in-command?”

  “Killea.”

  She reached for the com key.

  “Yes, Chancellor?”

  “Find Lieutenant Killea. Tell him what happened to Captain Hirschfield. Then tell him I want to see him.” Sujata looked across at Berberon and managed a weak smile. “I hope we don’t have to end up flying the ship ourselves because the crew is all in custody.”

  “Killea will get the message,” Berberon said. “I only wish there was reason to think it would be that easy when we catch Wells.”

  Sujata frowned and shook her head. “Security is part of Operations. Those men work for Hogue. Where we’re going, everyone works for Wells.”

  “As I was saying—I wish.”

  Farlad showed up just as Killea was leaving, making for a momentary traffic jam at the door to the office.

  “Captain Killea is on his way to get the ship ready for a noon sailing,” Sujata said. “We’re continuing on to Perimeter Command.”

  Flashing a tight-lipped and troubled smile, Farlad said quietly, “I’m not.”

  “Why not?” Sujata asked.

  “Wills left new orders for me. I’m to report for duty on board the recon ship Falcon. We’re being sent into Sector Seven of the Mizari Zone—to begin surveying the black-flagged systems.”

  “Never mind that,” Sujata said. “You’re coming to the Perimeter with us.”

  Farlad shook his head. “This says that he knows, just as I told you he would. I can’t be of any further use to you. But I can still be of some use to the Service.”