He'd done it, too. He had over thirty million crowns stashed in numbered accounts on half a dozen worlds near Prime. Directly or through intermediaries, Micah had a piece of every illegal enterprise in the Thaeron system and many others throughout the rim. By judicious use of his transfer authority and by trading on the Jonas name, he'd managed to surround himself with people he could trust — trust to help him defraud the Empire.
He'd even managed to get back at his brother. One of his clandestine contacts had underbid Jonas, Inc. on a supply contract then, with Micah's help, provided less than the required amount of substandard weapons system power cells. Micah had simultaneously denied his brother the lucrative contract, and made nearly a million from it.
But Micah was careful, even though he seemed to be getting away with everything. He constantly reminded himself that the traitorous officers at his last command had thought they were getting away with it, too, until FIS grabbed them.
So he wasn't too surprised when he discovered that an investigation was underway. Oh, the indications were subtle: several new officers and enlisted people transferred in, unrequested. Files accessed without apparent reason. Other seemingly minor occurrences. It all added up to FIS. However, Micah had set up warning systems and several alarms had gone off.
Micah still had a problem. He had shut down all illegal operations, but there would be traces. He had gone out of his way to cover his own tracks, but he was painfully aware that others hadn't been so careful. At the least, he could be caught in the undertow when they were sucked down. In addition, there was always the chance that one of the others had gathered evidence on Micah to use as a bargaining chip.
Even if he were not directly implicated, Chu-Lo would use it as an excuse to cashier him; and without his Fleet retirement pay as cover, it would be difficult to enjoy his hard-earned money.
He'd done what he could. The only subspace comm on Thaeron was in Micah's office, and Micah made sure it was secure. He'd contracted some of his illegal contacts to upgrade the office's security so even they couldn't penetrate it. It'd been expensive, but he'd run tests using his Marine infiltrators. Nobody would get into that office without Micah's knowledge.
That meant any agents' reports would have to be sent through normal channels; i.e. by mail sent by ship; and Micah had the outgoing mail scanned before being forwarded. He'd already identified six FIS agents, and intercepted their reports. So far, they didn't have anything solid on him. That wouldn't last, though. Sooner, rather than later, those FIS agents were going to turn up solid evidence on somebody, and the wall of silence would begin to crumble.
The Emperor's conspiracy had come at just the right moment. A lot could happen when the shooting started. Records could be lost or damaged. People could be killed.
Above all, no one would be pursuing any investigations until the shooting stopped — if there were any evidence left when the shooting stopped. Or any investigators.
He shrugged and dismissed the matter from his mind. Instead, he focused on the impact of his intervention in the Emperor's plans. The Emperor would be furious, of course. But he would be trapped. He couldn't admit that he'd been plotting with a Sector Viceroy to give away an entire sector without consulting the imperial senate. Not without Cord to speak for him.
No, Eron XXIV would have to grit his teeth and pretend to be grateful to have a rebellion put down. Micah tried to visualize the Emperor's face as he awarded Micah the Imperial Star for spoiling his plans. He chuckled. Not only could he bury any evidence of — and witnesses to — his illegal activities, but he would actually be doing his duty as a Fleet officer; preventing the loss of an entire sector. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the latter factor meant as much to him as the former.
Micah and Van-Lyn waded into a flurry of activity. They had to make sure that all of the ships were battle-ready. No skimming, no substandard supplies, no disappearing inventory. Oh, Micah didn't expect much fighting, at least not in space. He shouldn't have to invade every inhabited system. He'd only need to control the Sector government long enough to return it to the Emperor: a few months, a year at most. Cord would have to die, of course.
Micah actually made contingency plans to cause some fighting. He had people and evidence to dispose of. But armed conflict between the unarmed people of the rim worlds and his own overwhelming military force was hardly likely. He'd had to think of something, a pretext to provoke some armed resistance.
He had complete control of the Thaeron system, of course. However, everything there was defensive. No matter how powerful the fortified moons, no matter how well armed the satellites, no matter how many minefields the Fleet had here, it would all be useless to him. Hmm. Could he take some of the armed satellites along? Possibly. Have to look into that.
Nevertheless, the only things that really mattered were his ships. Well, those and enough Marines to occupy Haven City.
With that battle group to overcome a virtually unarmed sector, there should be little trouble. For one thing, Cord didn't know that he knew about the giveaway, or that Micah would even consider attacking and taking over the sector. Even if he found out somehow, there was little Cord could do. Certainly, he had nothing that could seriously oppose Micah's force.
In the meantime, his former co-conspirators must be reassigned to front-line positions out of the reach of the FIS agents, but where harm was likely to befall them if fighting occurred.
The only co-conspirator that worried Micah was Van-Lyn. Van-Lyn was Fleet through and through. The idea of purposely sending Fleet people to their deaths just to conceal his own guilt was one Van-Lyn would find impossible to accept.
Unfortunately, there was no way to put Van-Lyn in harm's way. All Micah could do was try to wheedle and cajole, constantly reinforcing the necessity for total security. Even so, Van-Lyn was a weak link. Why couldn't the old fool realize that the alternatives were a blaster bolt to the back of the head or the rest of his life on a prison planet? Micah needed him and Nemesis for the moment. But once the fighting was over, it might be necessary to arrange something. Perhaps a traffic accident or a street robbery gone bad . . .
Chapter III
It was a relief to escape Haven’s freezing temperatures and get back aboard the Old Bitch. Unfortunately, it had been a long time since I’d computed a ballistic. By the time we got into space, Rawl was openly admiring my command of invective.
“Okay,” I began, “Now, it’ll take Hari half an hour or so to get Con roused and sobered up, and we're a couple of days from our jump point, so why don't you give me a quick overview of what's going on? It'll take more than a week to make the three jumps to Outback, so we'll have plenty of time later for a formal briefing.”
Rawl shrugged. “We've known of Jonas’ plans for about six weeks now. The Viceroy has been on sub-space with every planetary head of state in the sector. All but six have agreed to support the Viceroy. Three of the six are those where the peoples’ only concern is survival. The others are taking a ‘wait and watch’ position. When this is over, they're liable to regret that decision.
“Jonas is being very cautious, for him,” Rawl continued. “We don’t believe he’s aware that the Viceroy knows about his treachery. We can't be sure of his plans, of course, but we think he expects the Viceroy to invite him to Haven for the ceremony, and plans to bring his dreadnought and enough other forces to seize the Viceroy and the planet. We’ve been very careful not to make him suspicious. Routine messages are still flying both ways, with both of us pretending nothing is wrong.”
“When is the announcement supposed to take place? How long have we got?” I asked.
Rawl shrugged again. “The Viceroy estimates that we can't wait more than six to ten months. If we don't announce it within that time, the Emperor will probably do it himself.”
I frowned. “That's not much time to put together enough force to fight a dreadnought and three battle cruisers. Exactly what force does he have, anyway?”
“He has complete control of the
Thaeron system, of course,” Rawl replied. “But except for the supply base on the planet itself and the orbiting repair docks, everything there is defensive. The fortified moons, the satellites, the minefields are all useless for attack. The only things that really matter are his ships. Well, those and his Marines.”
“All right,” I said, “Can you run down the ships for me?”
Rawl nodded. “To begin with, he has Nemesis, the dreadnought.” He shuddered. “I’ve seen Nemesis. She alone could be enough to take the sector. He also has three battle cruisers, Fearless, Dauntless, and Relentless, and five destroyers: Eagle, Gyrfalcon, Harpy, Predator, and Raptor. He had a corvette as well, but Fleet HQ recalled it for pirate interdiction or something.”
“Come to think of it,” he added, “He is a bit short of auxiliaries. As far as we know, he just has one transport for the Marines, and one fleet courier.”
I’d been listening carefully. A kilometer in diameter and bristling with lasers, particle beams and missiles, Nemesis carried fifty Strengl in-system fighters, an equal number of Wasp long-range fighters, and even five planet-busters. I shook my head and sighed. I was never a big fan of dreadnoughts. They’re dinosaurs, useless against modern tactics. But here, all Jonas needed to do was to set it to orbiting Haven, and make us come to him. There would be little opportunity for fancy maneuvers; it would just be a matter of standing toe to toe and slugging it out. In a slugging match, nothing in the universe could match a dreadnought.
The three battle cruisers were only about half the size of Nemesis but much faster and more modern, and almost as well armed. Battle cruisers were the backbone of the Fleet. Three of them should be able to overcome an entire fleet.
Of course, the destroyers were the Fleet's workhorses. Fast, agile and well armed for their size. One destroyer is usually enough to pacify a planet; Jonas had five.
With that battle group, Jonas should have little trouble overcoming a virtually unarmed sector. I had absolutely no idea how I was going to fight back. Oh, maybe we could cobble together some converted tramps or something, but certainly nothing that could seriously oppose Jonas’ force. I sighed. This was going to take a miracle.
I grimaced. “Time is the critical factor,” I said. “It’s going to take awhile to even work up designs for something to fight with. Of course, that's assuming we can even build anything we design.”
He nodded. “The Viceroy is well aware of that. That’s why he's sending you to Outback. Outback and the rest of the outer worlds are our secret weapons.”
“Humph. Nothing very secret about planets.”
Rawl shrugged. “Oh, everyone knows they’re there, Commodore. What's not generally known is their unique situation. The Outer Worlds consist of five systems, including Outback, on the edge of explored space. Any of them can be reached from any other in one jump. Because of their relative proximity, the five systems have formed a very close relationship. Though they remain independent, they tend to trade among themselves, and specialize. One is a farm world, two are mining planets, Outback is the manufacturing center, and the last, Gamma, is the administrative and trading center of the group. The other four systems all have representatives on Gamma, and though they don't have a formal treaty or anything, they all tend to work together.”
He paused. “They form an economic and political powerhouse within the sector. The Viceroy refers to them as the engine of the sector. The only world more prosperous has been Haven, and that's sure to change with the Empire gone.”
“The point is that the outer worlds are firmly behind the Viceroy. They’ve benefited enormously from his policies, and are well aware that they are becoming a huge power in the sector. Jonas, on the other hand, hasn’t even bothered to learn of their importance. He simply isn’t interested in what he calls ‘primitive dustballs’. His intelligence people know better, of course, but there’s some evidence that their reports are largely being disregarded by the Admiral.”
I chuckled. “That's Jonas, all right. Anything more than three jumps from Prime is barbarian country, and couldn't possibly matter.”
Rawl nodded. “I'd heard you know him. But why would a man like that want to take over the sector?”
I shrugged. “Probably because he realizes that he’s effectively been banished to the ‘outer reaches’ for life. He resents it, and plans to show the Emperor how good he is. I suspect that if he succeeds, he’ll try to claim that Cord was planning to rebel and he, Jonas, single-handedly prevented a rebellion and saved the sector for the Empire.” I shrugged again. “I imagine he thinks the Emperor will reward him by calling him back to Prime for a promotion and maybe a Duchy. It would never occur to him that the Emperor was trying to give the sector away.”
Rawl nodded again. “You may be right.” He grinned suddenly. “I’d love to see his face if he succeeded and tried to return the sector to the Emperor.” The grin faded as quickly as it had come. “You know, of course, that the fact of the Empire’s release of the sector is highly classified. You won’t be able to mention it to your crew.”
“I know. I make it a policy never to lie to my men, military or civilian. I’ll simply tell the truth, if not the whole truth. That Jonas is plotting to take over the sector, that Hari and I are being drafted by the Viceroy to put down the coup and Valkyrie is being converted to a Command and Control ship. All true.” I hesitated. “There are always things the troops can't be told; but that doesn't justify lying to them.”
When I called the shareholders meeting in Valkyrie's mess deck, I made no speeches, no recruiting pitches. I simply told them, and offered them the choice. They could: (a) join up with Hari and me, (b) accept internment (in this case, simply temporary discharge from Valkyrie and an allowance to stay on Outback), or (c) sell back their shares for a premium price and a ticket on an inbound liner.
No one interrupted as I explained the situation, and the silence continued for minutes after I finished. Jax was flushed with excitement.
Jax had joined us on Pascua, his home world. Our Comm Officer came down with Reiber’s Fever, and we’d had to buy him out. The port officials on Pascua wouldn’t let us lift without a Comm Officer, and the Trader's Guild office had no one to send us. We’d been sitting on the port apron for more than a week when Jax showed up.
He’d hitchhiked almost a thousand kilometers to try to join us. Hari was on duty at the time, and by the time I arrived Hari was his biggest fan. The three thousand Pascuan piastres his father had given him weren’t enough for a full share, but they were his father’s life savings. At Hari’s urging, we came up with a complicated deal that let Jax buy some cargo and deadhead to our next port of call where, hopefully, the profit from his 3,000 piastres would be enough to purchase a share. Owing to some creative bookkeeping by Hari, it was, and Jax was inordinately proud of being a full partner. Just now, he was caught up in romantic visions. Fighting always seems romantic to the young — until they've experienced it.
“So, It wasn't smuggling, huh, Capt . . . uh Commodore? That was just in case of spies, right?” Jax was squirming with excitement.
“That’s right, Jax.” I replied wearily. In the face of Jax’s excited expression, I felt ancient and jaded. I had no doubt how Jax would vote. This was the kind of adventure he'd dreamed about while feeding the animals on Pascua. Con, though . . .
Con Wiler was a gifted Astrogator. He was also the shallowest human I’d ever encountered. He was tall, slim, and classically handsome. Not today, though. Today, his handsome features were puffy and red. His usually impeccable uniform was creased and rumpled, and his hair was likewise rumpled. He was obviously suffering from a combination of hangover and the effects of sober-ups.
“It's not fair!” Con whined. “We didn’t join up with Cord. Why should he want to take Valkyrie? You aren't gonna let ‘im, are you, Captain?”
“You weren’t listening, Con,” I replied with as much patience as I could muster. “Cord would have seized Valkyrie anyway. She's the biggest ship on the ri
m that doesn’t already belong to Jonas. Cord’s going to outfit her as a C&C ship for me. I’m the Commodore whose flag she’ll fly, and Hari may even command her. Now, you have to make a choice.”
I spelled out the options again, and then stepped back. “All right. You have until we reach Outback to decide what you want to do, and let me know.”
The trip to Outback was uneventful. Jax, of course, wasted no time letting me know that he wanted to join up. He was flushed and excited. He was having great difficulty restraining his enthusiasm, and badgered Hari and me endlessly.
Con was a different case altogether. Aside from the times that he’d come up to the bridge to set up the jumps, he stayed in his cabin with the door closed, engrossed in his collection of porn vids. He ate in a corner of the mess deck, and replied to any conversational attempts with glares and grunted monosyllables.
I wasn't greatly surprised, therefore, when he showed up at my cabin door the day before we emerged into Outback’s system.
“It's not fair, Captain,” he whined. “This isn’t our fight. Cord has no right to ask . . .”
I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “Cord is an Imperial Viceroy. He can do just about whatever he pleases. And Hari and I feel that what he’s doing is right.” I shrugged irritably. I'd promised myself I'd remain neutral, and not press my feelings onto the crew. But Con's manner was so abrasive . . . “I guess you’re here to let me know your decision.”
He nodded, glowering. “I didn't sign on to die in somebody else’s war. I’ll sell him my share, but I’m going to make sure I get every centisol it's worth!”
I sighed. “You will, Con. I’ll go over the books with you and we’ll calculate the value of your share together. I’ll see to it that you get full value — and then some. Cord promised to pay premium prices for any shares sold out, and I’ll hold him to it.”
Con’s expression turned suspicious. “What about the inbound ticket? You said he’d buy us a ticket back to the inner worlds.”
The Emperor's Conspiracy Page 4
