by Ryan Krauter
The proof would have to be airtight, without any dispute. The testimony of the Priman agent wouldn't be available, as she'd committed suicide in confinement before any official statement could be taken.
And so, here they were. If they came forward with charges now, they'd be labeled traitors, rebels or Priman sympathizers, and run off in disgrace.
"Anybody up for joining the rebel systems yet?" Loren asked casually, though it was not by any means a light topic among the Confederation military. With almost a third of Confed's navy defected to the outlying systems, nothing could be taken for granted anymore.
"Are you going to get us a signing bonus or anything?" asked Merritt.
"Hey, I'll be honest; I had to think about it, if just for a little while. But while I hate the idea of taking orders from the senator, I'm enough of a pragmatist to know that the best way to take Confed back is from the inside. Once we get the government straightened out, everyone will be back and things will be normal again."
"Well," added Web, "as normal as they ever were."
Loren just pointed at Web in a gesture of agreement.
They all stared into the waves in silence after that, letting the soothing sound of the breakers lull them into tranquility.
Loren's ears perked up at a faint noise. It was barely audible under the sound of the waves, but it was different; a constant sound, maybe getting louder in fact, but not the back-and-forth of the waves, either. It sounded like thrusters.
He sat forward in his chair, eyes squinting behind sunglasses as he searched the sky. He looked over and saw that everyone else must have noticed it, too. Pretty soon they were all standing, backs together, as they quartered the sky in search of the mystery noise.
Finally, it resolved into definite engine noise. It approached from the east, volume building as it closed, then the noise was past them and fading. Loren never saw anything.
"What the hell?" he heard Cory ask.
"Roger that on the 'what the hell'," Merritt added.
"Stealth," Web stated simply. "A mag-field like Avenger is the only thing that makes sense."
Loren nodded again, but the thought was pretty far-fetched. Still, it was the only thing that fit.
Then the noise was back, only this time it built and seemed to stop moving, instead growing in intensity back by their transport. Loren had a split second of panic that this was another Priman ambush and their ride out of here was about to be destroyed, but it wasn't anything to fear.
Over their ship the air shimmered, so much so that his eyes watered. He blinked the tears away to see something that brought a smile to his face. The shimmer disappeared and in its place was a smooth, flat black Prowler. The advanced recon ships carried a crew of four, with engines above and below each of its short wings. It pivoted and changed orientation until it was pointing nose to nose with their much less graceful looking transport, then dropped gear legs and settled into the sand. As soon as it was on the ground, the engines spooled down and the side hatch dropped.
It was no surprise to Loren that Admiral Bak stepped down the stairs and onto the sand, smirk on his face.
"You like my ride?" he asked casually, sweeping an arm behind him at his ship.
"I didn't know anyone ever tried to put a mag-shield generator in something that small," Merritt admitted.
"That's an 'E' model Prowler," Web said approvingly. "You can tell by the missing hard points and bigger heat stacks by the engines. Weren't more than a handful built; they were intended as test beds for new technologies and were deployed without most of the sensor systems that they're usually crammed with. Lots of extra weight available; if they could built it small enough, that Prowler could definitely lift it."
Admiral Bak smiled approvingly. "Excellent identification, Commander."
"No markings that I see," Cory prodded.
"No," stated Bak. "This particular spaceframe is listed as destroyed after testing. Of course, you'll have noticed that the testing seems to have been successful. The problem was that the stealth systems worked for the most part, but there was no room left for the sensor systems that the Prowler needs to carry, so all we really created was an invisible transport that could move a quartet of lightly armed infantry. Frankly, I saw a need for a ship without a registry, IFF beacon, plus stealth systems, and managed to stash it away against a future need. I used it now because, as you have probably guessed, we need this meeting to not have ever officially taken place. The Primans can't know, and for the love of all that's holy our government can't know, either.
"Why don't you all come into the Prowler and we can talk?"
CHAPTER THREE
The five of them crammed into the rear compartment of the Prowler. Originally outfitted with sensor stations and equipment racks, this particular one was stripped down and instead sported a small table and a half dozen chairs on sliding mounts around it.
Once seated, Admiral Bak got right to it. "We have some big things in the works," he began, "and you are all going to be involved." He shifted in his seat and looked at Web. "First, Commander Exeter, you've been requested personally by the commander of a small team we're assembling." Web's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "We're going after the Dennix ring data that Velk told us about."
Now everyone looked shocked, and Bak held up his hands to keep them quiet while he continued. "First, some good news. The morning after you captured Ms. Starr and we discovered the fact that we had Priman moles disguising themselves with those biometric rings, we conducted a raid across the capitol of Delos. We arrested a half dozen of them and stashed them in dark, quiet holes all across the Confederation. And no, of course it didn't make the news. Frankly, I expected to find more, but perhaps Starr was right when she said there weren't that many.
"In any case," he continued, "Velk offered, very grudgingly, to assist us in getting a hold of the recordings of Senator Dennix’s activities since he started wearing his former Priman aide’s ring."
"He'd turn on his own people?" asked Web.
"Not really turn, as we might consider it," Admiral Bak corrected. "Velk thinks his people are being corrupted by their time here and their subversive dealings with us and other powers they're trying to take over. He fears for the purity of his people, so he says, and he wants those in power to step down. The way it's been explained to me, based on what we know of the Priman command hierarchy, is that a Commander stays in place until he or she accomplishes their set goals. However, as was the case with Velk, the Commander can be replaced sooner if their Council feels the Commander has failed in their job. It's Velk's hope that the next Commander would be a more moderate voice, willing to work with bodies like the Confederation and Talarans instead of just trying to crush them and start over. He fears a repeat of the conflict a thousand years ago."
"Do you buy any of this?" asked Cory, doubtfully.
"To a degree, yes, I do actually," replied Bak. "We know they subtly altered and guided most of the species in this galactic arm all those millennia ago. They want to return to take their place here, but that's where their camps seem to diverge. Velk claims many would be happy to simply return and take a place in the galaxy, offering help and guidance in the hopes that they could help all of us advance as some sort of continuation of their experiment. The other half of them would be fine with simply annihilating us all and taking the galaxy by force. He feels there are enough moderates that he can broker a peaceful solution."
"But what could Velk possibly gain from helping us?" Loren finally asked. He had a slightly deeper understanding of the internal politics of the Priman people than the rest of his friends, and things had for the most part made sense until now. "I mean, it seems like this is a huge gain for us, but pretty risky for him."
"Well," said Bak, "our interests coincide. If we remove our compromised leaders, obviously it's great for the Confederation. It might make us much stronger against the Primans, which makes you wonder why Velk would help us. The flip side is that us doing well in the war weakens t
he position of the Priman Commander. If his machinations don't pan out and his attack stalls or fails, it opens the door to his replacement or a change in strategy. Velk wants to sneak back into Priman space at some point to try and rally support for more moderate dealings with us and the rest of the galaxy."
"So he wants his own people to fail," said Web with a doubtful look in his eyes. "I still don't buy it."
"Short version, then," said Admiral Bak. "Expose Senator Dennix and remove our corrupted leaders. Unify the Confederation once again and end this ridiculous civil war. Weaken the Priman Commander and help Velk pave the way to new leadership that is more receptive to a brokered solution to this war. And to be honest, we get everything we need out of that bargain regardless of how it works out for Velk. Maybe he gets back and manages to find a way to get the next Commander put in place and it turns out he's been a man of his word; the Primans, under new management, turn out to be more receptive to coexistence now that they've seen what their little science experiments have turned out to be. But worst case, Velk dies. We lose nothing. Win-win for Confed, right there. So, the mission's on. Web, you'll be part of a covert team going to Callidor to attempt to retrieve the ring data on the senator."
"Callidor?" Web asked. "You mean the heavily fortified planet that's the command center for the entire Priman invasion?"
"You got it," said Bak with a grim smile. "Velk will give us some data and emissions profiles that can identify the purpose of a particular building. Find the building that matches that profile, and you've found a place that should have access to the ring data. We thought about sending you to another Keeper facility in that ship you stole, but Velk surmised and we've confirmed that the locations we knew about have all been abandoned or moved since your little escapade- you remember the time where you ransacked one of those secret facilities and kidnapped Velk and stole the DNA virus data?"
"Yes," Loren said with a smile. "I remember it fondly. My only regret is that we didn't get to blow up more of the place."
"Fondly?" asked Cory in shock. "That's the place where you blew out a compartment into vacuum and almost died, if I remember correctly."
"Hey, you were all there to save me," he said reasonably.
"And now the second operation," said Bak, more gravely this time. Loren's curiosity was piqued. "Loren, I'm giving you orders to take back to Captain Elco for Avenger. At the request of Senator Dennix himself, Avenger is to conduct a diplomatic operation, calling on several friendly powers throughout the galactic core area. You're to go to these places, establish contact and give them a briefing on the current situation, then ask if they're interested in providing any kind of support whatsoever. Remind them that the Primans have already broken through our little spiral arm into the core and beyond and are spreading like a contagion."
Nobody said anything for a few heartbeats.
"What?" Loren finally said shortly. He looked at Cory and Merritt for support. "You want us to go shake hands all over the galaxy while the Primans are taking over bit by bit here at home?"
Bak looked at Loren impassively, and Loren couldn't tell what the man was getting at.
"You'd prefer this mission had more meaning than that?" Bak asked conversationally.
"Yes," Loren replied immediately.
"Ok, then," Bak replied with a smile. He spun his chair and tapped the wall monitor, bringing it to life. It showed an oblique map of most of the galaxy, with big splotches of color highlighting Confed, Priman, and other major territories clear to the other side of the galactic core. There were a handful of yellow waypoints scattered throughout the arms and core. Admiral Bak tapped one and it became centered in flashing brackets, mission information now scrolling up the right side of the screen.
"You're going to go find out how this galaxy defeated the Primans the first time, a thousand years ago."
Enric Shae smiled at Zek Dennix across the Senator's huge desk as they picked at their working lunch. The old fool had no idea what was coming, and Shae reviled him all the more because of it. The old man should have had some inkling that things were in motion.
The truth was that Dennix was a feeble, conflicted hack. Shae didn't know why the old man was in charge, not really. The senator didn't know whether he wanted to save the Confederation, rule it as his own, just reshape it to his liking, or maybe he just wanted the nice house that came with the Governing Committee post. But the man lacked direction, as had been shown time and again. He couldn't make the tough calls, and didn't seem to know which way he was headed. Enric saw that, and so did the Primans.
Enric Shae, on the other hand, knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted to be in control. He wanted power- the power to make the rules, to reward those who thought like him and punish those that didn't. He wanted to claim the best for himself and make sure that his way was the only way. There was nothing wrong with craving power; it was one of the most basic needs of an evolved organism and it was society's arbitrarily imposed rules that sought to demonize those who wanted to gather it for themselves. He wanted to never feel fear or impotence again, never be under someone else's control. He had willed himself into this position; his will and actions were becoming one. The path he had designed for himself was coming to fruition, and it was all the more pleasurable since he knew it was his drive that had taken him here. He knew where his will was taking him: it was the Confederation as seen by Enric Shae, the Confederation described and defined according to his designs. And it was about to start falling into place.
"Anything else?" Dennix was asking as he dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a fine linen napkin.
"Yes, actually," Enric replied. "I received another communiqué this morning regarding our arrangements within the various committees."
Dennix's face grew sour; he hated being told how to run his own house, but Enric also reasoned that if he'd done a satisfactory job in the first place the Primans wouldn't need to micro-manage like this, either.
"They want another specific person on the Governing Committee," Enric stated simply.
To his credit, Dennix didn't puff up and bluster as he'd been known to do early on. Used to be he'd get up, pace around and rail about the injustice of it all and how the Primans didn't understand how Confed needed to be run. It seemed now he'd become more resigned to just going with the flow.
"They realize the Committee is not just a bunch of appointed friends, I assume?" Dennix had the resolve to say.
"They know that," Enric began, "but they also know there's plenty of precedent for it as well." While traditionally the Committee was made up of people who held other government postings, it was not unheard of for senior officials to find a way to get friends or those whom they owed favors to a seat at the big table. Committee appointees had to be confirmed by a majority vote of the Committee itself, but since every last one of the current sitting members had been placed there by Dennix and owed him something, confirmation was a foregone conclusion. Of course, the person ousted to make room for the newcomer would probably take it badly, but those were the breaks in a government town.
"And who is the lucky person?" Dennix asked sarcastically.
"Me," Enric said without pause.
"You?"
"Is that so wrong?" Enric asked innocently. "They want to do as much as they can to guarantee they have the Committee locked up. You're on it, and with me on it as well they take one of the other unknowns out of the equation." Enric spoke on for another minute about the merits of having both of them on the Committee, but they both knew what was really happening; Enric Shae was being set up as Dennix's replacement, should it come to that. If for some reason the Primans didn't think Zek Dennix was working out for them, they'd need a new voice in Confed. What better person than Enric Shae? He'd been the envoy who'd helped negotiate the current truce, he was a Navy veteran, he had plenty of experience within the current administration, and now he'd even be a member of the Governing Committee. Most of the average Confed citizenry didn't keep too close an eye on the Comm
ittee itself; if some of the people on it swapped chairs he doubted whether anyone would really notice. Or care. Either way, it worked for him.
"They're getting ready to replace me if I don't perform for them," Dennix said darkly. "The only question is, how involved were you in this decision?" The senator folded his fingers together, hands on the desk in front of him. Shae noticed that the man's fingertips were turning red from the pressure; the Senator was squeezing hard- maybe imagining Enric's neck between them?
"It's a fine line I have to walk," Dennix continued slowly, studying the man across from him. The ungrateful bastard. He'd found Enric Shae wallowing in career limbo on a navy ship, brought him here and taught him how to direct his ambitions, and now the man wanted to slide on by and take over. But it wasn't that easy now, was it? Not with the Primans.
"What did they promise you?" Dennix demanded softly. "They told me we'd keep most of Confed intact. You've seen that's already not true. They're pushing us back. Did they promise you complete control? How many planets and systems will you get to rule over? We once had almost a thousand interests to watch out for, and that's already been chopped down. How many will keep you happy? Fifty planets? A hundred? What if it's only one?" Dennix fired out the questions, and every time Shae didn't respond he'd simply let loose another one.
"You think this is an easy job, don't you?" Dennix scoffed. "Just wait until you find out for yourself. It's not easy at all."
There was silence in the Prowler; the only sound was the distant crash of the waves on the beach, echoes making their way to the ship and bouncing around inside. Loren mused that the waves didn't care what was going on in the galaxy at large, didn't care who was in charge. They performed their task, rushing in and out at the urgings of weather and the moon's gravitational pull, pounding big rocks into small rocks, small rocks into sand.
