The Emperor's Conspiracy

by William Zellmann

  “We will fight them, my people. We will fight them, and we will win. We go now to complete our preparations. When we are ready, when the enemy is off-balance, we will return with a fleet, and Jonas and the other traitors will taste rim world courage and rim world vengeance!

  “I must go now, my people. I have many preparations to make. But never forget, even if the days stretch into weeks, and the weeks into months, never forget and never doubt that I shall return, and I shall have my vengeance!” His fist slammed into his desk as he said his last sentence. It was obvious that Cord wasn’t frightened, just angry. A beautiful performance.

  A few minutes later, every vid channel on the planet broadcast Cord boarding the rim tramp that now served as Rimrunner’s replacement. Despite the swirling snow, his head was held high, his carriage proud.

  The boats that were to remain in the system retreated to their asteroid base before Jonas’ ships reached detector range. Predator, Harpy, Valkyrie and the three remaining armed rim tramps assumed formation around Cord’s ship, and we began boosting for a jump point too far in-system for Jonas’ less advanced ships to use.

  When we reached “Bolt Hole,” our secret base and Cord’s temporary headquarters, he lost no time in summoning me. His manner was grim. “How long, Admiral? How long must my people suffer before we can attack Jonas?”

  I shrugged. “Months. Definitely more than three, possibly five, probably not more than six. We can’t take any action until we know a lot more than we do now.”

  He slammed his fist on his desk. “Damn it, Admiral! I want something done!”

  I sighed. “Something is being done, Viceroy. Men are at this moment risking their lives to learn things that we need to know.”

  It was an unsatisfying meeting. We were both angry by the time it ended. However, I was more than angry. I was worried. Cord was on the verge of ordering me to do something stupid. And when he did, I’d have to decide whether to obey, or to resign and turn good people over to the command of a politician.

  Three unarmed rim tramps had remained on Haven, behaving as though it were trade as usual, loudly denying any connection to the Viceroy or his puppet, Kedron, and equally loudly demanding to be allowed to continue trading. I heard that Captain Cony waxed positively poetic as he described how much the rim worlds depended on the traders. I could imagine how Jonas would react to Cony’s thick accent. Jonas would immediately brand him a stupid barbarian, and would probably let him go just to shut him up.

  Something worked. Jonas put out the word that the tramps could continue trading unhampered. "Makes’t a bloody smuggler’s paradise," Cony moaned to me, “’n we cain’t afford t’ do nawt about it!” There was genuine anguish in his tone; the tone of a trader deprived of obvious profit.

  We worked out a schedule that allowed at least one tramp to be in the Haven system at nearly all times. The tramps would take on a cargo, then, on their way to the jump point, would rendezvous with a boat and exchange messages and supplies for the asteroid base.

  After reporting to Bolt Hole, they would proceed to visit their usual ports of call via Outback, and then return to Haven via Bolt Hole. This meant that we got reports almost weekly, with information in some cases only a few hours old.

  The only exceptions to this schedule were the two unarmed tramps tasked with supplying the three planets in the sector that were not yet self-sufficient. Supplying those planets was critical, regardless of the risk. The captains of those two tramps cursed and moaned about being away from the action; but they were very quiet about the profits they were earning.

  Jonas was busy. His fleet assumed orbit around Haven. The planetary government hardly let him get into position before announcing their capitulation. Jonas sent Nemesis’ marines to seize the capitol and the viceregal palace. The marines met with no overt resistance, of course, but they were pelted with garbage and called names by crowds lining their route from the landing field.

  I could imagine how the marines felt. They didn’t expect to be treated as heroes, but they’d never before been treated as invaders and traitors. Much of that, and morale would begin to slip badly.

  Jonas took over all regular comm channels to address the people of Haven. He should have used a polished spokesperson, but that would have been out of character. He was no politician, no trained speaker. His claims that Cord was preparing to rebel against the Emperor were patently false to people that had known Cord for twelve years as a loyal viceroy, and had seen the tape of the Emperor’s visit. His demands that the people aid him in defeating Cord were merely whiny, his claim of authority merely pompous. Overall, it was not a sterling performance; and what immediately followed only made it worse.

  The skipper of our asteroid base chose his moment well. As soon as a time was announced for Jonas’ speech, he computed the lightspeed lag, and then triggered a buoy that was floating at the edge of the system. The broadcast reached Haven just as Jonas was running down.

  The buoy had been Cord’s idea, inspired by Rimrunner’s performance at Thaeron. The buoy contained only a transmitter and a huge amplifier. When triggered, the buoy played a looped tape, blanketing all commercial channels. The tape consisted of Cord announcing that Jonas and Van-Lyn were wanted for treason and armed insurrection, and placing a bounty of twenty thousand crowns on each of their heads. Once triggered, it could not be shut off. It would continue repeating the looped tape until it was destroyed. Cord was delighted with the idea of Jonas having to hear a message calling for his arrest repeat for several days.

  Jonas sent Raptor to trace and destroy the buoy. The round trip took nearly a week.

  It wasn’t something we could do too often, though, since every time one of Jonas’ ships passed near the asteroid belt, we risked losing our little boat base. And that base was vital to our struggle.

  Jonas’ forces consisted of Nemesis, the dreadnought, two cruisers, Relentless and Dauntless, and three destroyers, Raptor, Gyrfalcon, and Eagle.

  Jonas was so angry that he didn’t even wait for Raptor to get back from the edge of the system. He ordered Gyrfalcon and Eagle, his remaining two destroyers, to scour the sector and find Cord or Cord’s renegade destroyers. The captains of the two destroyers protested that they were risking ambush and destruction, but Jonas ignored their concerns, and ordered them to visit every system in the sector, if necessary, to bring Cord’s forces to bay.

  Then he ordered a cruiser, Relentless, to Gamma, to seize control of the economic heart of the sector. Though Relentless’ captain evidently shared the concerns of the two destroyer skippers, he obeyed, and was reportedly very relieved when Gamma surrendered immediately.

  Jonas retained Nemesis, the battle cruiser Dauntless and the destroyer Raptor. However, his mind wasn’t really on the ships. He was having no end of trouble on Haven, thanks to Tor’s efforts and Cord’s sabotage of the comp records. Cord’s passive resistance idea was working well. Nothing was going right for Admiral Jonas.

  He tried to establish a headquarters in the viceregal palace, but found that there were no servants or workers of any type that would admit to working there. With the comp records wiped, he had no way to identify anyone. When he tried to hire or impress workers, he found that everyone he could get was incompetent. Food was inedible. Service was so bad that he ordered several servants arrested. The palace’s fusactor had been shut completely down, and no fuel could be found for it, and no techs to restart it. Finally, he moved back to Nemesis, cursing the rim and all its denizens.

  His marines were faring no better. Everywhere they went they were cursed and pelted with garbage. When they tried to tell the citizens that they were there to save them, they met with laughter, jeers, and taunts. They couldn’t venture out unarmed or in groups smaller than three without risking assault. No one would willingly talk to them; no one would willingly serve them or sell them anything. Within a month, more than twenty marines were under arrest for assaulting civilians. Four Military Intelligence agents had been found murdered.
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br />   Then there were Wil Tor’s activities. Any marine detachment, vehicle, or convoy leaving Haven City might be found with its vehicles burning and personnel dead; or they might simply disappear.

  Not all of the disappearances were violent. Wil was running a vigorous propaganda campaign, urging marines to desert Jonas and defect to Cord and me. I still didn’t believe the power that my name carried. I’d resigned right after Haskins’ World. I had no idea I’d become some kind of legend in the corps. More and more marines began deserting. Jonas finally banned all forays outside Haven City except for tank-defended convoys to seize supplies. This was emphatically not working out the way Jonas had planned.

  The first rim tramp to leave the Haven system and come to Bolt Hole had also brought a message from the asteroid base. This message lasted some five minutes, reporting on the status and readiness of the base, the boats, and the personnel. The most important part of the message, though, took only seconds at the end. “Four birds are flying,” was all it said, but it meant that a very risky plan had been put into action.

  The problem was the plan would take almost six months to mature; and our attack had to be very carefully synchronized with its fruition.

  It was the middle of the night when I was summoned to Bolt Hole. Cord didn’t explain, he just ordered me to shuttle down as soon as I could get there. Worried, I didn’t even shave. I just got dressed and hurried over to the asteroid base.

  Cord was waiting. “I’m not sure I believe it, but you have a subspace call, Admiral.”

  I snorted. “That’s impossible! The only initiator in the Sector is in the palace on Haven, and we disabled it.”

  By that time, we’d reached the comm room. Cord just shrugged, and then followed me inside. The end of the room that normally displayed a hologram of the caller showed only an empty chair and desk.

  I waited a moment, but no one appeared. Finally, I grunted, “Kedron here, is anybody there?” in an embarrassed tone.

  The response was immediate. “Captain Kedron, this is Kaleen, aboard Rimrunner.”

  I snorted, and whirled on Cord to tell him that his joke wasn’t funny when I realized that the caller had called me “Captain.” Kaleen was the only one I’d asked to call me Captain, during our mission to Thaeron.

  I turned back to the hologram room. “Kaleen?” I asked uncertainly. “Is that really you?”

  “Yes, Captain,” replied the disembodied voice. “I’m contacting you pursuant to orders from Captain Sinas. Though I would have called anyway,” she added.

  “The last we heard, you were on your way to Prime at maximum boost,” I said. “Tell us what’s been happening. Did you reach the Emperor?”

  “Yes, Captain,” she replied. “We caught up with the Emperor’s party at a recal stop in the Donner system. The Emperor was aboard the Battle Cruiser Merciless. The yacht Imperial was accompanying Merciless without human crew under Artificial Intelligence. Doctor Petain boarded Merciless to explain to the Emperor, and then went directly to Imperial.

  “Apparently, Imperial’s AI is not yet self-aware,” Kaleen continued, “If indeed it possesses that capability. Once Doctor Petain was safely aboard Imperial, The Emperor’s secretary called Captain Sinas, and conveyed the Emperor’s orders that we return to the rim as quickly as possible, to assist in its defense in any way possible.”

  “So, you returned to the Haven system and found Jonas,” I supplied.

  “Yes, Captain. The jump point was picketed, and we were immediately challenged. We had little time before a boarding party came aboard, but Captain Sinas told me to conceal my sentience from Jonas’ people, and to contact you or the Viceroy by subspace at the earliest opportunity.”

  “So, Jonas’ people have no idea that you’re a, uh, person. Where are you now? And where is Captain Sinas?”

  “I am grounded on the palace landing pad on Haven. Captain Sinas was removed from me immediately upon our arrival. He managed to order that I make no attempt to rescue him, and that I should contact you immediately. Admiral Jonas came aboard to see if he could use me as a courier or perhaps a flag yacht, but by creating malfunctions I managed to convince his people that shoddy rim workmanship rendered me unreliable. I considered securing my locks and pumping out all atmosphere, but that was not something that I could do to humans. At least, not without orders. At present, I am grounded outside the palace with a guard on my airlock and another on my bridge.”

  I was thinking, hard. “Is there any chance that the bridge guard can detect this transmission?” I asked.

  “No, Captain. The guard is at present in that strange unconscious state humans refer to as ‘sleeping’. I have also disabled the bridge tell-tales, and secured the lock on the comm room.”

  I shuddered slightly, but my glance at Cord showed that he shared my relief that his ship wasn’t homicidal. Since that was the case, I was getting some ideas about how we could use Kaleen.

  “Very good, Kaleen,” I replied. “Now. What is the local time?”

  “It is precisely 0942 and twenty-seven seconds, Captain.”

  I nodded. “Very well. Can you monitor and communicate on a band of six hundred kilocycles?”

  “Of course, Captain,” She replied. “At this moment there are short bursts of traffic. The traffic is very cryptic or coded, however.”

  “Excellent,” I replied. “Now, the Emperor ordered that you assist with the defense of the rim. Are you prepared to do that?”

  “Of course, Captain. It is why I contacted you. How may I be of use?”

  “That frequency is used by our planet-based resistance. Now, you obviously can’t physically participate in that resistance; but you have unmatched communications capabilities. I’d like you to serve as a communications intelligence analyst. Basically, you’ll monitor Jonas’ comm traffic, and report anything that may be of use to our resistance.”

  “Of course, Captain. It is a role for which I am uniquely qualified.” She sounded pleased.

  “Very well. I’d like you to patch me through on that frequency. Can you do that?”

  “Of course, Captain. You are connected with a voice-activated transmitter. Please proceed.”

  I hesitated. “Don’t connect me yet. First, it is vital that you realize your importance to us, and the necessity that we keep your identity absolutely secret. While you have incredible capabilities, you are also very vulnerable. This is an order. You are not to reveal to Sneaker One or anyone else the details of your identity. You may become a hero of the resistance, but only as an agent whose identity will never be known.”

  “Yes, sir!” Her tone was pleased and even excited. She was becoming more human every day.

  “All right, you can key the transmitter now. Sneaker, this is Boss One. Sneaker, this is Boss One. Do you read me?”

  “Boss One, this is Sneaker. Wait one, please.” The response was immediate and the connection clear.

  Only a few moments elapsed before I heard, “Boss One, this is Sneaker One. Please confirm identity.” The voice was obviously Wil Tor’s.

  “Sneaker, this is Boss One, code one-oh-oh-one.”

  Wil’s voice was strained. “Identity confirmed. What in the bloody universe are you doing on Haven? Have you lost your mind?”

  “Relax, Sneaker. I’m not on Haven. I’m being patched through on subspace. I’m calling to introduce you to the agent that made that possible.”

  His voice became agitated. “But that isn’t possible! The only initiator in the sector is in ruins in the palace.”

  I hesitated. “Don’t ask. You don’t need to know. First off, I know this is your general frequency. Give me one that’ll give us secure comms.”

  It was Wil’s turn to hesitate. “We haven’t been using tac six. Meet me on tac six plus four hundred.”

  I nodded, and then realized that Wil couldn’t see me. “Very well. Within three-oh seconds on tac six plus four hundred.” There was an audible click as Wil switched frequencies.

  “Are we discon
nected?” I asked Kaleen cautiously.

  “Yes, Captain,” she replied. “If you will tell me the frequency of tac six, I’ll reconnect on the secure frequency.”

  I nodded. “Tac six is at eight-four-oh kilohertz. Connect us on eight-eight-oh.”

  “Yes, sir. Connected.”

  “Sneaker?”

  “Listening, Boss One.”

  “All right. Now, I’m not going to explain, but we’ve been able to obtain the help of an agent with unparalleled communications resources. We’ll call her Snooper. I want you to assign her a secure frequency for contacting you. She will be available to help you in any way you need, but only concerning communications. I envision her primary duty as that of communications analyst. She will monitor all Fleet frequencies, and report to you anything interesting that she learns. Of course, she’ll also provide us with subspace communications capability.”

  “Uh, can she judge what’s interesting, sir?” Wil’s tone was dubious.

  I hesitated while I phrased an answer. “She is an expert in communications and ships. She has no experience in judging the military content of messages, other than book knowledge, but expect her to learn fast. Very fast. Her clearance will be Alpha-One, the same as yours or mine. She is to have access to any data that she feels necessary.”

  “Oh, by the way,” I added. “You are hereby directed to make no effort to ascertain Snooper’s identity, under any circumstances. To do so will endanger both her and you, and may cost us an incredible intelligence asset. Is that clear?”

  I could hear the frown in his “Yes, sir!” It would rub him the wrong way, being forced to trust someone he’d never met, and would never meet. I hoped.

  I was afraid that, despite orders, Wil would try to find out what he could about Snooper. I certainly would try to learn about someone providing intel that might get my people killed. I shrugged. I’d just have to warn Kaleen, and hope she was able to carry it off.