Wreaths of Empire

by Andrew M. Seddon

  Stalker rubbed his temple. “Very well, Member. But-”

  “The fewer people involved, the better. Lafrey was here, she knows what’s going on, and she’s a highly qualified agent. Do you dispute that?”

  “No.”

  “She was the best choice for the task. Therefore, she goes.”

  “And she’s expendable.” If Stalker tried to keep the comment neutral, he failed.

  Maricic raised a shapely eyebrow. “Everybody is expendable, Admiral.” She smoothed back her jet-black hair. “With a very few exceptions.”

  The Sunfire-2 class shuttle—a new model naval issue, fresh from the shipyards and still smelling of paint and fabric and molecular bonders—pulled away from Covenant’s feeble gravity. Not even the faintest hiss of atmosphere whispered goodbye. The conference center dwindled to a glistening jewel on the planet’s dark bosom, and then rotated out of sight.

  Jade watched as her pilot, Lieutenant Karenina Neilson—chunky, dark-haired, plain, and two years removed from the Academy—entered the flight plan. Troy Kuchera reclined in the passenger section aft.

  Neilson stretched and put her hands behind her neck.

  “The flight won’t be long, ma’am,” she said. “This Sunfire’s faster than the old one.”

  Jade murmured a response, her attention focused on the viewscreens.

  Planets are so beautiful from space, she thought, savoring the rearward image. Even Covenant. Planetfall and planetleaving never failed to fill her with a sense of wonder. Each planet—big or small, blue and green and white as Earth, or grey like Covenant—seemed jewel-like from space. Turquoise, amethyst, sapphire, emerald, garnet, aquamarine. Each had character, each was an individual, some perfect, some flawed—

  She blinked at a flicker in her peripheral vision and tore her eyes away from Covenant.

  There it was again. A flicker on the scan console. She took a closer look. “What’s scan picking up?”

  The pilot studied the scan readout. “Just another shuttle taking off, ma’am. Hawking ID. Loads of shuttle traffic coming and going,” she remarked. “Covenant’s a busy place at this time of the year.”

  Jade let the attempt at humor go by. “I thought it wobbled,” she replied, eyes glued to the readout.

  Neilson took a second look. “Steady enough now, ma’am. No! You’re right. It’s falling off course.” Neilson opened a commlink. “Hawking shuttle! You’re drifting off course. Correct your profile. Hawking shuttle, do you copy?" Neilson raised worried eyes to Jade. “There’s no response.”

  “Are they receiving?”

  Neilson worked the console. “The link’s open.”

  Jade watched, horrified, as the second shuttle reached the apex of an arc, rotated, and then began to power back towards Covenant.

  “Cut your drive!” Neilson shouted into the commlink. “Pull up! Pull up!”

  Jade broke into the line. “Ground control, this is Starwind shuttle. We’ve got a faller. Do you copy the alert?”

  A male voice spoke over a background of shouting. “Ground control. Already on it.”

  “Can you get a remote control on the distress?”

  “Negative. Remote inoperational.” Jade heard confused conversation in the background. The man said, “Emergency crew standing by.”

  “Hawking shuttle! Jettison!” Neilson yelled. “Jettison!”

  The shuttle banked into a steep dive. Neilson pulled up a realtime camera shot. Like a shooting star, the stricken shuttle accelerated in a suicidal plunge.

  “They’ve had it.” Neilson swore.

  A bright spear of light erupted as the shuttle ploughed into the unforgiving surface of Covenant, detonating in a massive explosion that lit up the sky. With no oxygen to sustain it, the fire burned out rapidly, leaving a smear of warped and shattered metal to cool.

  “Emergency team away,” came the report from ground control.

  Neilson shook her head. “Nobody could survive that.”

  “Ground control,” Jade said, “this is Commander Jade Lafrey. Who was on board that shuttle?”

  “One passenger, Commander. Lieutenant Milford Fromberg.”

  Jade closed her eyes. “Fromberg, you didn’t…”

  “Excuse me, ma’am?” Neilson was staring at her.

  “Nothing.” Jade unclipped her restraints and let acceleration push her towards the cockpit door. “I’ll be in the passenger section.”

  “I’ll alert you when we’re ready to dock, ma’am,” Neilson said.

  The cockpit door shushed shut behind her.

  Jade flung herself into the seat next to Kuchera.

  He glanced up from a data pad. “What was all the shouting?”

  Jade pressed her lips into a tight line. “Shuttle crash on Covenant.”

  Kuchera stared. After a long moment, he said, “Shuttles don’t just crash.”

  Jade puffed out her cheeks. Troy was catching on quickly. “No,” she said, equally quietly. “They don’t.”

  And not like that, not on a planetoid with as little gravity as Covenant.

  “What is it now?” Major Blair Iverson snapped as his senior aide, Captain Aaron Ruben, burst into his office. Ruben was excitable; too excitable in Iverson’s view ever to merit further promotion. But Ruben was a man who followed orders, and that was good enough for Iverson to retain him.

  “She’s gone, sir!” Ruben exclaimed.

  “Who?”

  “Lafrey!”

  Iverson grabbed the edge of his desk and half rose. “When?”

  “Her shuttle just left, sir. She must have passed Fromberg’s going down.”

  Iverson cursed and subsided. He tapped his teeth together. “Anyone with her?”

  “That Information officer, sir. Kuchera. And her pilot.”

  Iverson gestured to a chair. “Sit.” When the younger man had complied, he said, as much to himself as to Ruben, “Why is she leaving?”

  “Running?” Ruben suggested.

  “No. Not her.”

  “Acting on her own?”

  “Possible,” Iverson nodded, “but unlikely. I don’t think she’s fool enough.”

  “On Stalker’s orders?”

  “Best bet.”

  “What do you think she’s going to do, sir?”

  Iverson scowled. “How should I know, idiot? If the dear admiral’s not satisfied with Watford’s files, she could be going to verify the information.”

  “He ought to be satisfied, sir,” Ruben protested. “I told Maynard to make it look good, like you ordered.”

  “Well maybe he’s not! Maybe Maynard botched it.”

  Captain Ruben nudged his chair back.

  Iverson exhaled. “Well, it’s not as if we didn’t consider the possibility, Ruben, although I admit I thought it low odds that Stalker would send Lafrey on an information-gathering mission. Even if Stalker wanted to be a cautious nellie, I didn’t think he’d stand for the Hegemony to be put at risk.”

  “Maybe Lafrey wasn’t such a good choice to receive the plant, sir.”

  Iverson glared. “She wasn’t a choice, fool! This is her sector! If the conference was being held somewhere else—with an Intelligence commander who didn’t have Lafrey’s scruples—there wouldn’t be a problem! But no. The Central Committee had to choose Covenant and Lafrey. Bah!”

  Ruben remained silent.

  “Well,” Iverson said, “we can guess where Lafrey’s headed.”

  “Trevarra hasn’t shown up again, sir.”

  “Good thing we kept her available as an option, eh?” Iverson allowed himself a small satisfied smile. Ruben and Maynard had argued for Trevarra’s immediate removal. But she could have been killed at any time, whereas she could never have been brought back from the dead. And now, the free trader might have another use…

  He became aware that Ruben was speaking again.

  “…we can let Lafrey go and try to convince her that what Watford found is accurate, although she’ll be harder to convince than Watford�
��”

  “That’s the first intelligent thing you’ve said, Ruben. Or, we prevent her from causing any damage.”

  Ruben nodded. “I’d say she’s dangerous, sir.”

  Major Blair Iverson nodded. “She is. Do this, Ruben. Inform our plant to convince Trevarra to return to her home base immediately—promising a valuable cargo ought to do the trick. Contact Maynard to prepare a warm welcome.”

  “And Lafrey, sir?”

  “I’d better clear it with Gellner first.” Iverson twisted his lips. “It’s his show, more’s the pity.”

  “I’m on it, sir.” Ruben scurried out.

  Iverson checked Gellner’s schedule, made certain the fleet admiral was unoccupied, and made his way to Gellner’s office.

  “Yes, Major?” Lewis Gellner demanded.

  The admiral’s bead-like eyes bored into Blair Iverson. Iverson hated to be made to feel uneasy. He detested the sensation in himself, although he enjoyed creating it in others.

  “Lafrey has left Covenant, sir.” He hurried through the remainder of his report.

  He expected the Fleet Admiral to explode.

  Instead, Gellner favored him with a satisfied curl of his narrow moustache.

  “Very good, Iverson. That will be all.”

  “But sir—!” Iverson protested. “Are you just going to let her go?”

  “Yes.” Gellner’s gaze remained unblinking.

  “But if she gets to Markher 12 and finds nothing—” He broke off. Gellner surveyed him with a smile playing on his face. Iverson didn’t like the expression. Smiles didn’t suit Gellner.

  “I think, Iverson, that the good commander will find more than she bargained for.”

  “But if we want to make sure the conference founders—”

  “Leave that to me.” Gellner was stern.

  Iverson spread his hands. “I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t have to. Just make sure that Trevarra dies and that Lafrey returns.”

  “Sir—”

  “That’s an order, Major.”

  “I ought to know why—”

  “Do it!” Gellner demanded through the smile.

  “Yes, sir,” Iverson said, as unhappily as he thought prudent.

  Iverson stalked back into his own office and slumped into his chair, his thoughts whirling.

  Was Gellner hiding something? Was Gellner still playing the same game? Or worse, was Gellner becoming incompetent?

  The more he pondered, the more it seemed likely that Gellner’s smile concealed something.

  Iverson considered calling Georgia Maricic and decided against it. The thought of her brought sweat to his forehead.

  Lafrey was supposed to break the news of Gara’nesh insincerity and she hadn’t. Why was Gellner so unconcerned? Maybe it didn’t matter. If Gellner was losing his grip on the situation, he, Iverson, was not.

  “Ruben!” Iverson called. “Get in here!”

  So Lafrey was going against the script.

  Too bad.

  “Sir?” Captain Ruben appeared in front of him.

  “Give Lafrey the same treatment as Trevarra.”

  “Gellner said?” Ruben asked.

  Iverson smiled, a feral, wolfish smile. “Gellner said.”

  Sector 7's Commander of Naval Intelligence considered herself privileged to have a ship for her personal use. Starwind, a customized Nebula-class scoutship, waited on standby in the midst of the Third Fleet, dwarfed by the massive star frigates. Jade had to restrain her impatience as the Sunfire drew closer. She couldn’t wait to see the changes the dockyard had accomplished during the refit.

  From the outside, the ship was unchanged—almost. The hyperdrive vanes had been replaced by considerably larger ones, and the drive compartment had swelled. Otherwise, the sleek lines of the hull appeared unaltered. In contrast to the star frigates which were built for function and raw power—the elements of warfare—Starwind had been designed for speed and elegance.

  A whistle of admiration sneaked through her lips as she boarded. Her feet sank into lush, ocean-azure carpeting. The walls had been colored a pale, cool green. Several contemporary paintings blended in, not at all out of place.

  Even the gravity felt better—Windward settings, not Earth-standard.

  Karenina Neilson met her at the airlock. “Nice, isn’t it, ma’am?”

  “I’m in the wrong branch!” exclaimed an awe-stricken Kuchera, following in Jade’s wake. “I’ve stayed in top of the line hotels that weren’t as fancy as this.” He remained rooted just inside the airlock. “Artwork and everything.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” Jade warned.

  “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying it while you can.”

  Jade introduced Kuchera and Neilson, who exchanged greetings.

  They entered a luxuriously appointed lounge that boasted a couch, papasan, several contourable chairs, and a full-field holoprojector.

  Karenina Neilson pointed to a closed door on the starboard side. “Your suite’s there, ma’am, as before,” she said to Jade.

  Neilson nodded to Kuchera. “My quarters are forward. Guest quarters are here, portside. There are five rooms, all with facilities, so take your pick. Computer and library accesses in each room, or there’s a separate library/entertainment room.”

  “The dockyard really did a nice job.” Jade said. “I wasn’t expecting anything on this scale.”

  “Superintendent Admiral Lyons must like you, ma’am. He had some materials left over from Invincible when it was refitted for Admiral Msizi. He said rather than let them go to waste, he’d put them in here.”

  “Did Rick Emmers know?”

  “I think he suspected.”

  “No wonder he wanted to come along. Remind me to thank the admiral. Better yet, put in an order to send him a case of the best wine you can find.” She gestured to Kuchera. “Stow the carryalls, Troy. Choose a room. Get ready to depart.”

  Jade followed Lieutenant Neilson to the compact bridge.

  Neilson set to work. Jade dropped into the other forward seat and engaged her restraints. She ran her eyes over the state-of-the-art console.

  A green spark on the scan monitor showed Starwind’s position relative to the ships of the Third Fleet.

  “Starwind on station keeping, Fleet Control,” Neilson said, her fingers dancing. “Disengaging for system departure.” She glanced at Jade, who nodded but didn’t say anything.

  “Copy, Starwind. Safe trip.”

  Another screen showed the Sunfire-2 being retracted into a hangar port. The Sunfire disappeared as the bay doors closed.

  “Ready, Commander?” Neilson asked. “Course out of the fleet plotted.”

  Jade called Kuchera. “Are you set, Troy?”

  “All OK back here.”

  Jade nodded to Neilson. “Take us out.”

  Starwind’s insystem drive ignited. The scoutship made its way cautiously through the Third Fleet. There was no sense of movement. But for the screen showing the star frigates moving slowly past, the ship could have been at rest.

  “Nice,” Jade commented.

  Neilson’s head bobbed. “The best.” She kissed her fingertips and patted the console.

  “What else did the dockyard do?”

  “Engine upgrade. Outrun anything smaller than a star frigate.”

  “That good, huh?”

  “It’s a new design. Lyons said we received one of the first installations.”

  “Weapons?”

  “They retuned the laser batteries and extended the range. Put in some missiles.” Neilson shrugged. “Not much use against a military vessel, but at close range…”

  “Couldn’t hurt, I suppose. A pity coil guns are too heavy.”

  Jade relaxed, watching until the giant ships of the Third Fleet became indistinguishable from the starfield.

  “Destination, ma’am?” Neilson asked.

  “Southern Cross. Sanders V.”

  “Southern Cross, aye.” Neilson entered Sa
nders’ Star into the navigation system and waited until the computer had calculated the Roessler-spatial course. “Containment field at full strength. All systems green.” She opened the intercom to the rest of the ship. “Transition in five seconds,” she announced for Troy’s benefit, and began the countdown.

  “Transition.”

  With a blaze of light, Starwind disappeared from Covenant.

  Jade remained on the bridge a few more minutes. When she was certain that Starwind was running smoothly, Jade left Neilson alone on the bridge and rejoined Kuchera in the passenger compartment.

  “Are you going to enlighten me as to our destination?” Kuchera asked.

  “Southern Cross.”

  “That’s a new one to me.” Kuchera flicked on his wrist computer, accessed a book, and read rapidly. “Fifth planet of Sanders’ Star. Named for the Southern Cross, a constellation visible from the southern hemisphere of Earth. A similar constellation, although composed of different stars, is visible from the northern hemisphere of Cross. Settled 65 years ago, in 2488. Noted for its production of an unusual, highly prized silk-like fabric created by a species of lizard.”

  “What Member Maricic wears,” Jade commented. “Incredibly expensive—does it say that? What book is that?”

  “Jaeger’s Guide to Colonized Worlds,” Kuchera laughed. “Indispensable for the serious writer.”

  “So you’re not always averse to background.”

  “Not always. Why Southern Cross? A shopping spree? Or can’t you tell me?"

  Jade settled herself, studied Kuchera’s features and came to decision. In for a penny, in for a pound. “By coming along,” she said slowly, “you will be completely identified with me in the eyes of the Political and Ideological Bureau. Do you understand what that means?”

  Kuchera’s eyes narrowed. “That whether or not I know anything of value won’t matter to them.”

  “Precisely. If I fall afoul of the Politicals—a not unlikely outcome—then you’ll suffer guilt by association. And you know how they work.”

  “But…” Kuchera frowned, “what do the Politicals have to do with an Intelligence matter?”

  “Perhaps nothing,” Jade replied, “perhaps a lot. I smell them, Troy, I smell their involvement.” She picked at her sleeve. “Purely as a contingency measure, I’m going to tell you what’s up. You want to be my backup, OK, you’re it. If anything happens to me, go straight to Admiral Stalker. You can trust him.”