I nodded. “He will. I knew that the only ships out here were rim tramps, and anyone that sold out would want to get back to where the Guild can find them a berth on a larger ship, so I got his promise in writing. Within a day of our arrival on Outback, you’ll be on your way back to Haven, with a ticket for Galeta.”
He nodded and rose to leave. At the door, he hesitated. When he turned back, his expression was puzzled. “Why, Captain? Why would you and the others want to get involved in this insanity?”
I reminded myself that Con didn’t know about the fall of the Empire, and that I couldn’t tell him. I thought for a moment. “I know Admiral Jonas, and I’d prefer almost anyone else to be in charge of this sector. Hari, well, I guess he’s just going along with me. Jax, of course, thinks it'll be a great adventure.”
Con snorted. “Adventure. A fancy word for something bad happening to someone else. But you, Captain! Most Sector Viceroys are no better than Jonas is. What makes this one worth joining?”
I shrugged. “Maybe it's the fact that Cord isn’t like those others. Maybe I think if I can help put a competent leader in place in one sector, it may encourage the Emperor to try it in other sectors.”
He shook his head. “I don't see it, Captain. Everyone knows the Emperor doesn’t want competent Viceroys; they might rebel. Moreover, if he is competent, chances are the Emperor will dream up a reason to execute him. He also usually executes those close to them. Be careful, Captain.”
After he left, I realized he might have a point. If Cord and Hari were right, and the Emperors actively discouraged progress, our current one would probably not tolerate competent leadership in an independent Rim Sector.
Hari just shrugged when I mentioned my concern to him. “What if the Emperor is Cord’s co-conspirator?”
“WHAT?” I was astounded.
He shrugged again. “The evidence seems to indicate it.” He ticked off on his fingers. “One, Cord claims to have discovered the facts about the fall of the Empire while a student in the palace. Surely, a student making such a discovery would tell his best and only friend. Two, Cord claims to have formulated his plans with the help of the palace computers. I seriously doubt such a project could be undertaken in the palace without the Emperor, or the Prince, noticing. Three, Con is correct. The Emperor is usually very careful to appoint sycophants and incompetents as Viceroys, to minimize the risk of rebellion. Cord is neither, and the Emperor has to know it. Four, the idea of the Emperor voluntarily releasing a sector, no matter how unprofitable, is patently absurd — unless the Emperor has an ulterior motive. I suspect Eron and Cord planned this together.”
I thought for a moment. “It’s hard to believe the Emperor is involved in planning that deals with the end of the Empire itself.”
Hari hesitated. “It is hard to believe. However, by all accounts Eron is someone special, even for an Emperor. He is reputed to be highly intelligent and imaginative, as well as tough and ruthless. Obviously, his ruthlessness extends to the Empire itself. He believes the Empire is falling, and as a conscientious ruler, he’s making an effort to ensure that civilization survives.”
I was confused. “Then why doesn’t he just recall Jonas to the inner worlds, and have him quietly killed?”
Hari shrugged. “Perhaps to test his co-conspirator. If Cord can’t handle the first hurdle in his path, he’s unlikely to be the one to build the foundation for the preservation of mankind.”
I shuddered. “Sorry. That’s just a bit cold-blooded for me. Thousands, perhaps millions may die in this dustup. To consider it just a leadership test . . .”
“How many will die in the collapse of the Empire? Don't forget, Emperors are trained to consider humanity in the mass, not the individual.” Hari shrugged. “Suffice it to say that whether or not we’re correct, the Emperor will not intervene on Cord’s behalf — or on Jonas’, for that matter. If Jonas wins, I suspect the Emperor will simply begin looking for a replacement for Cord. I doubt he’ll find it easy to find one as gifted and as trustworthy.”
Landfall was uneventful, except that we grounded at one of Outback’s six shipyards, rather than the commercial port. Before the ground cooled, a fleet of vehicles converged on Valkyrie. Even while I was being shown the modification plans by the yard’s manager, workers were swarming over and into the old bitch.
Outback is almost the diametric opposite of Haven. It’s a warm, humid world, with huge seas sprinkled with continent-sized islands. I breathed a huge, contented sigh as I walked down Valkyrie's ramp.
I never got a chance to say goodbye to Con. I didn’t particularly like him, but he was part of my crew. But Rawl had made all the arrangements before we grounded. Among the first of the people who crowded aboard was a viceregal representative with Con’s inbound ticket and a voucher for 110% of the share value that Con and I had calculated. Con had packed most of his gear before we grounded, and by the time I’d fought my way free of the people demanding my attention, Con was gone.
I had little time for regrets. Rawl had briefed me in space on the status of Viceregal Intelligence (impressive) and ground-based resistance (nonexistent). As soon as I could escape the shipyard, I headed my chauffeur-driven aircar to the commercial port to talk with Captain Cony, the tramp skipper I’d met briefly on Haven.
“I’ll tell ‘ee, Commodore," the little man began, "Ye’ve the entire tradin’ fleet behind ‘ee. Lardass Jonas don’ like us, ‘n we don’ like ‘im!”
The ‘entire tradin’ fleet’ turned out to be forty unarmed rim tramps of various ages and designs. None was designed to be armed except Valkyrie, and she was currently being rearmed. As soon as we'd grounded, Hari had gone into a huddle with engineers from the shipyard to try to design weaponry to install in this motley assortment of tramps.
What the traders did give me was a spaceborne intelligence capability and secure intersystem communications. Three of the traders had voluntarily admitted to being agents of Military Intelligence, and they had identified two others. The two that hadn’t come forward would have to be isolated, but the others could prove useful for passing disinformation. Traders are inveterate gossips, and Captain Cony proved no exception. I got Cord to charter Cony’s ship for use as my flagship until Valkyrie’s conversion to Command and Control vessel was finished. Cony temporarily became my Flag Captain, coordinating the flow of information to and from my fleet. His first job was to organize the traders into a secure communications pipeline for my ground-based intelligence efforts. The tramp skippers could carry coded messages by hand, making Military Intelligence’s broadcast surveillance useless.
Things were moving fast, and the days were a blur of crises. Rawl and Cony were distrustful of each other. Rawl considered Cony a shady and undisciplined possible smuggler, and Cony considered Rawl a spy who would use anything he learned against the traders when this was over. To some extent, I could use their mutual enmity for our benefit, but walking the fine line between them was wearing. Both of them proved their value almost immediately, though.
Rawl brought me a chubby, cheerful-looking man in a rumpled Fleet Commander's uniform two sizes too small. He turned out to be a retired Commander, and an absolute genius at handling paperwork. He had an unerring judgment regarding what to refer to me and what should simply be affixed with my forged signature. He could sign my name better than I could.
Rawl also assumed responsibility for our counterespionage efforts. The viceroy’s computers had access to all Fleet files, of course, including the personnel files of all Military Intelligence personnel assigned to the rim sector. Rawl took charge of security for the shipyard, and within a week had more than a dozen MI Agents in custody.
Cony's major contribution early on was running interference with the tramp captains for me. They’d appointed a committee to deal with Cord’s representative, me, and were proceeding to try to negotiate their participation as though it were a trade contract. As a trader myself, I could understand their viewpoint. I couldn't tolerate it, of course
, but I understood it.
Until we could design and build weapons modifications, though, there was little but the occasional intelligence operation to occupy over thirty ships and crews. Cony got their committee to discussing every possible facet of their involvement, and was happily wrangling with them for hours at a time while leaving me free to deal with other problems. Like finding an Astrogator for Valkyrie, and a permanent Flag Captain.
I called the Spacer Guild office on Outback, but it predictably turned out to be a one-person operation. The Guild representative recognized me immediately. He’d already been briefed on my need for an Astrogator rated for DIN-class freighters. “As you can imagine, Commodore, There are few out here with ratings for that type equipment. There is none on Outback at the moment, of course, but I’ve spread the word to every planet in the sector. Hopefully, we’ll come up with someone in a few weeks.”
I groaned, but it was no worse than I’d expected. I mentioned to him that anyone who signed on would be volunteering for a fight, and that I’d consider signing someone on temporarily on a salaried basis, if necessary. He agreed to send the supplementary information to all the Guild offices in the sector.
My quest for a permanent Flag Captain was another problem. Captains qualified to command ships as large as Valkyrie were rare on the rim, and of those we located, there were none I’d trust with the old bitch. Complicating the search was the fact that my Flag Captain would also have to be qualified to double as my deputy.
I was discussing our lack of success with Cony when he mentioned what could be the answer to the problem.
“Weel, Commodore, They is this gloot owns a ship's chandlery and big bar on Thaeron. I heerd he war a destroyer skipper afore he ‘tired outen the Fleet. Heerd he gottim an Empire Star.” His face screwed up in concentration. “Got onea them ladeedah innerworld names with a hyphen. Ran . . . Van . . .” He snapped his fingers. “Got it! Tan-Li! Oh, sorry, Tan dash Li, ladeedah. Li with a ‘I’”
I jerked to attention. “Tan-Li? Sharlo Tan-Li?”
Cony frowned. “Cud be. Yeah, m’thinkin’ that's it. Y’know 'im?”
I nodded. “Very well. He was one of the best combat skippers in the Fleet. He’s the reason I survived Haskins’ World. It must be him! There can’t be that many Empire Star winners on the rim.”
“Weel, now he’s got thet bar ‘n chandlery at the commercial port just outside the base. Mightn't be smart t’try to visit ‘im right now.”
We decided that I would record a message crystal and Cony would see that it was delivered to Sharlo Tan-Li on Thaeron.
I turned on the recorder. I was in full Commodore’s uniform less hat, but I was sure he’d recognize me. “Hello, Shar. It’s been a long time. If you own a bar on Thaeron, I’m sure you know what's going on. ‘God’ Jonas thinks he can take over the rim. As you can see, I’ve been appointed by the Viceroy to stop him.” I grinned. “Who’d believe I’d finally get my star because of Jonas!” I let the grin fade and turned serious again. “I need you, Shar. I need a Flag Captain. None of these rimworlders can handle a DIN-class, and none of them have ever seen combat.
“I know you’re retired, and I know why. Sheol, it was the same reason I left. But I need you, Shar. By the way, I haven’t had a nightmare since I signed on with Cord. I believe in him, Shar. He’s good for the rim. I hear Jonas is telling the troops that the Emperor has abandoned them. It’s not true, Shar. I've seen a message from the Emperor himself guaranteeing repatriation, even if the rim is abandoned, and I have Cord’s word. I believe him. Besides, think how good it would feel to help me slap ‘God’ Jonas down! I hope you'll join me.”
I couldn't say more. The crystal could fall into Jonas' hands. Sheol, if he didn't believe me, Shar might turn it in himself! I turned the crystal over to Cony to be smuggled to Thaeron.
A month after we grounded, I was up to my elbows in paper when my office door opened and a skinny, nearly bald head thrust through. “The enemy's attacking, Commodore. Gird your loins or something!”
“Hari!” I yelled, delighted. “Tell me you’ve figured out how to make warships out of these rim tramps! They’re all we’ve got, you know.”
He grinned back. “Maybe I have,” he replied, “And you’re wrong about them being all you’ve got!” Then, incredibly, the head withdrew and the door slammed.
I jumped to my feet, cursing. “Hari! You bastard! Get back here!” I yelled as I scrambled for the door. I yanked it open just in time to see Hari’s cadaverous body disappearing around the corner at the end of the corridor. Cursing non-stop I lurched into pursuit. I caught up to him just outside the entrance to the building.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I yelled.
Hari just grinned. “Getting you out of that damned office,” he replied calmly. “And I’ve won ten credits doing it. I bet Jax I could get you to come out before dark.” Jax had been serving as my aide since our arrival.
I swelled up with indignation. Then the ridiculous image of me pounding down the hall cursing in pursuit of Hari made me dissolve into uncontrollable laughter. When I finally regained some composure, I said, “OK, Hari. But I think I ought to get half of those ten credits.”
The skull-like head shook. “Not a chance. I’m the one who took a chance on your temper.”
We laughed again. “Did you mean what you said? Have you figured out how to use the rim tramps? Come in and tell me about it.”
He shook his head again. “Nope. The other half of the bet was that I have to keep you out of the office all afternoon. If you want to find out what you have to fight with, you’ll have to come out to the shipyard with me. We’ve got a little demonstration set up for you.”
I started to protest about the pile of work on my desk when I realized that nothing on my desk, sheol, nothing on the planet was as important as Hari’s weapons research. I shrugged in defeat. “All right, Hari, let’s go see what kind of toys you've come up with.”
Chapter IV
Unsurprisingly, we headed for Engineering as soon as the crushing pressure of liftoff eased. The rim tramp we had boarded at the shipyard was brand new. It had been finished, but not yet delivered, when we’d arrived. I’d immediately seized it in Cord’s name. We were using it as a test bed for Hari’s weapons designs. It looked normal enough. The only difference I could see between now and when we’d seized it was a ring of three equidistant bumps around her middle.
“All right, Hari. I think I’ve been pretty patient. But if you don’t start explaining . . .”
Hari continued to act mysterious as we worked our way aft and entered the engine room. Finally, he waved at the inertial drives. “Look at those, Val. No, I mean really look that them.”
Puzzled, I followed his wave with my eyes. “They look a bit large for a ship this size, but they look conventional . . .” I began, but then I began to notice small differences. “Well, why would they . . .? Look how they . . .?” I turned to Hari. “What is this, Hari? These engines look all right at first glance, but then . . .”
Hari grinned. “You're beginning to get it.” He said. “Time hasn’t stopped out here. In fact, some of the most brilliant minds in the Empire ended up out here, where they were comparatively free to experiment. Take these engines. I’ve seen the specs and test results. I suspect that they’re better than Empire systems of five hundred years ago.”
I snorted. “Don't tell me that these rimworlders have that mythical superengine. It never existed.”
Hari nodded soberly. “You’re right, of course. There never was a superengine — just a slow decline in the capabilities of Empire manufacture. What these engines have is highly developed refinements of the standard system.” He patted one of the engines paternally. “These engines are powerful enough to require that the ships be equipped with gravity compensators. Figures I’ve seen indicate that they’re capable of over 3g constant boost, and nearly six in short bursts.”
I was jolted. “Are you serious? I mean, you’re sa
ying these tramps could outrun a strengl fighter!”
Reflected light gleamed through thin hair as Hari shook his head. “True, but they can’t maneuver like a strengl. They’re not fighters. And that’s the point. I don’t think you understand how different things are out here. That’s really why I shanghaied you today. It’s vitally important that you understand the rim if you want to win this. Try to fight Jonas with Empire tactics, strategy and equipment, and you'll lose — he has the weight of metal. But the rim is different than you or he suspect. You have the chance to come up with completely new and unconventional tactics that can offset his advantage.
“You see, in the Empire, scientific and engineering development effectively stopped about four hundred years ago. A strengl fighter built last month is identical to the strengls used in the Horsehead Rebellion four hundred years ago.”
I nodded. “Except that a four-hundred-year-old strengl would be better built. I know, Hari. Sheol, look how much trouble we had finding techs qualified to rewind Valkyrie’s jump engines! It’s one of the reasons I think Cord may be right.”
Hari was looking exasperated at my interruption. “My point is that the development you’re noticing applies to the whole vessel. They’re not based on any standard imperial design. They were designed from the ground up to trade here on the rim. They’re small, since except for a few grain haulers, the rim worlds don’t tend to trade in large shipments and bulk cargoes. They have oversize and better inertial drives because space isn’t crowded around rim planets, and their captains want to get to their jump points as quickly as possible. Their jump engines, on the other hand, are fairly small, since jumps are usually short. Their nav comps are specially designed for the rim. They’re fantastically accurate in computing short jumps, but would be almost useless for running a course from, say, here to Prime, where most jumps would be two or three times as long.”
He took a deep breath. “Taken individually, each design feature merely improves a bit on standard technology. However, put them together, and you have a vessel that’s bigger and less maneuverable than a fighter is, but faster than a corvette. They have the mass to mount some sizeable weapon power, and the speed and maneuverability to deliver it — if they can steer clear of the strengls.”
The Emperor's Conspiracy Page 5
