“We’re ready, your Majesty,” said Grand High Admiral Lenkowski.
“Then let’s get this over with,” said Sean, gazing at the holo that showed the assembled force.
Moments later the icons in the holo began to move, on a slow heading toward the planet Jewel, the capital of the Empire. Valkyrie at twenty million tons was the largest ship in that force, the only one of her class available at the moment. Surrounding her were a dozen regular battleships, fifteen million tons of destructive power each. Twelve eight million ton battle cruisers were next out, then dozens of light and heavy cruisers and fifty-three destroyers. Each ship was carrying extra marines and assault shuttles from the Central Docks.
“Twenty-six minutes to orbit,” called out the Flag Navigation Officer.
Sean looked over at a side holo, which showed the inside of the Cathedral of St. Mark’s, the Reformed Catholic Church where every coronation for the last five hundred years had been held. Over a million people could be fit into the church when all the partitions were moved. For the ceremony they would include all of the members of all three houses of Parliament, Lords, Commons and Scholars. All the Justices of the Imperial Court would attend, and tens of thousands of nobles, as well as many of the rich and famous. And of course the randomly selected commoners who would talk about this moment all of their lives. And we’ll give them some memories they weren’t expecting, thought Sean with a worried smile, hoping the day didn’t turn into a blood bath.
Another four million would be out in the square fronting the cathedral, watching the proceedings on large trivees, waiting to greet the new Emperor when he left the church. And then the twenty some billion people on the planet, the six billion on New Terra, and the three hundred million on the terraformed moon Ariel would be watching in real time, or near enough. While the ceremony was transmitted by laser to all the other planets of the supersystem, and by hyper relay to most of the rest of the population, who would receive their view of the ceremony in from one to eight days. Those not on the hyper relay link would have to wait even longer to receive the vid by visiting freighter or warship. Not that they really care all that much on those frontier worlds, thought Sean, remembering Sestius. They just want to live their lives, and depend on the Empire to keep monsters from coming out of the sky. A task we have failed this time around.
A large trivee came to life on the front wall of the bridge, and an Asian man and a Caucasian woman looked out, wearing the uniforms of their respective services, Army and Marines. “All is ready, Len,” said the Asian with the seven stars of Army Chief of Staff on his collar. “Your Majesty,” said the man, looking past Len to Sean. “It is so good to see you returned to us, safe and sound.”
“My sentiments exactly, your Majesty,” said the woman.
“Thank you Grand Marshal, Field Marshal,” he replied, linking with the ship’s computer to identify Field Marshal Betty Parker, Commandant of the Imperial Marine Corps and Grand Marshal Mishori Yamakuri, the Army Chief of Staff.
“We’ve encountered some resistance at the Parliamentary Defense Stations,” said Yamakuri with a frown. “The idiots don’t know when they’re outgunned. We’ve identified them on your tactical systems.”
Which means those men and women are about to be bombarded from space. Sean did not like the idea of killing his own subjects on coronation day, but sometimes violence was necessary.
“We’re receiving a signal from the Planetary Customs Control,” called out one of the com techs. “They are ordering us to stop our course and state our intentions.”
“Please,” said Lenkowski with a short barking laugh. “Tell them we are under orders from Commander Home Fleet to safeguard the planet during the coronation.”
“And how long do you think they will believe that?” asked Sean, raising an eyebrow.
“Hopefully long enough,” said Lenkowski. “Remember, your Majesty. This was not my idea.”
And yet you’re willing to take the blame for it, thought Sean. So I won’t be stained with what might happen.
“How does the suit feel?” asked Lenkowski, his critical eye looking over the specially made medium armor the Prince was wearing.
“It feels like a second skin,” said Sean, flexing his arms. The suit actually had all the capabilities of a Marine heavy armor panoply. And it only cost a dozen times more than heavy armor, thought the Prince. Unfortunately for the combat troops the numbers didn’t lie. A dozen times the cost didn’t make it a dozen times as effective, so the soldiers and Marines were not about to get suits like this.
“A customs patrol ship has fired on the Jean Grey,” called out one of the techs. “No damage to the destroyer.”
“Warn those assholes off,” yelled Len, standing up in his chair. “Tell the Grey she has permission to fire a warning shot.” The Admiral turned toward the Prince with a frown on his face. “What in the hell are these fools thinking? That destroyer outmasses that cutter by a factor of twenty.”
“Imperial Security Squadron is querying us,” called out another com tech, a worried expression on her face.
“Now that could be a problem,” said Len, raising an eyebrow. “We might need your code for this, your Majesty.” He looked back at the com tech. “Put the squadron commander on the viewer. Secure channel.”
A distinguished looking woman appeared on the viewer, the flag bridge of a battleship behind her. “Lenkoswki,” said the woman, who Sean’s link identified as Vice Admiral Sonya Martinez. “I thought there was a Parliamentary warrant out for your arrest. What is this, some kind of coup?”
“If it was you wouldn’t have enough to stop us, Sonya,” said Len, smiling.
Sean looked at the holo and saw that there were three battleships and ten escorts in the squadron, not enough to do more than slow down his force. But he didn’t want to see Fleet fight Fleet this day.
“You always were a pushy shit, Len,” said the other Admiral. “But I really can’t believe you would try and overthrow the legitimate government.”
“I have the legitimate government aboard this ship,” said Len, gesturing back at Sean. “I’m just here to install it.”
“By the Lord above,” gasped the commander of the Imperial Security Squadron, tasked with guarding the person of the Emperor when he traveled off planet. “Is that really him?”
“It is,” said Len, nodding. “High Prince Sean Ogden Lee Romanov, in the flesh.”
“How do I know this isn’t some kind of trick?” asked the Vice Admiral.
“I’m sending you my code now, Admiral,” said Sean, closing his eyes and concentrating on a link to the ship’s com center. His personal ID code was a series of binary representations of his genetic structure, linked with his military identification. It was sent through a highly encrypted channel that only ships like Admiral Sonya Martinez’ flag and vessels that Sean was serving aboard could decode.
The woman’s eyes grew even wider as she looked at her screen. “Lord above, it is you.”
“So, what do you intend to do?” asked Lenkowski, his eyes narrowing as he glanced over at the Flag Tactical Officer.
“What can I do,” said the woman, bowing her head. “You have the legitimate heir aboard your ship, no matter what that bastard Streeter says.” The Admiral shifted her gaze to Sean and bowed her head yet again. “Your Majesty. You have my pledge of fealty. What are your orders?”
“Why, to follow the lawful directives of Admiral Lenkowski,” said Sean. He looked over at Lenkowski. “Admiral.”
“For the present you can move your ships out of my way,” said Lenkowski, glancing at the holo that showed the ships of Martinez’ force between his and the planet.
“Do you wish for my command to join yours?”
“Not at the moment, Admiral,” said Sean before Lenkowski could speak. “I want you and your command distanced from this if things don’t work out as we would like.”
“They’ll still question why I let you through,” said Martinez, shaking her head. “B
ut, as you command.” The screen went blank, and the holo showed the Imperial Security Squadron starting to move out of position.
“We might have been able to use her vessels,” said Lenkwoski, looking back at the Prince.
“I would rather not involve anyone else in this,” said Sean, shaking his head. “There are going to be bad feelings, no matter what happens.” In fact, I won’t be able to retain you as CNO. And for that I am truly sorry.
Lenkowski turned back around and sat in his chair with his back stiff. And I’m sorry I stepped on your toes just then Admiral. I promise I have a reward for you that I know you will love.
*
“Sir, we have a problem.”
Prime Minister Theo Streeter looked over at the young man who was his military liaison officer, a Colonel who was in charge of the local Parliamentary Security Brigade. His own troops lined the walls of the great chamber, over a thousand armed men in medium battle armor. The rest were outside, on the square facing the cathedral. Along with several thousand soldiers and marines in ceremonial uniforms.
The cathedral itself was packed with people, so many that the environmental systems were straining to keep fresh cool air flowing. He glanced up at the dais at the front of the chamber, where the young fool they had chosen to figurehead the Empire was seated, along with the Pope of the Reformed Catholic Church and the hierarchy of most of the other denominations and faiths within the capital system.
“So, what’s the problem?” he asked the Colonel, a feeling of impending disaster coming over him.
“This,” said the Colonel, pulling out a small holo globe. The globe activated and displayed a superbattleship and attendant battleships. “They’re minutes from orbit.”
“What is the Imperial Security Squadron doing?”
“As far as we can tell, nothing. They have moved out of position, and are not answering our com calls.”
“Order the shore defenses to take out those ships,” hissed Streeter, looking at his chronometer and seeing that the actual crowning was still a half an hour away. I think we have to speed up this thing.
“Those are Fleet ships, my Lord,” said the Colonel. “Frankly, the naval batteries will refuse to fire on them.”
“And the Army?”
“Grand Marshal Yamakuri has ordered them to stand down,” said the Colonel in a hushed voice.
“What about the Imperial Protection Corps?” asked Streeter, naming the Army and Marine personnel who were assigned security duties for the Imperial Family.
“I just don’t know, my Lord,” said the Colonel. “They are sworn to protect the Emperor. But right now we don’t have an Emperor.”
“Then we will just have to make one, fast,” said Streeter, getting up from his seat and walking up the aisle to the dais.
“Is something wrong, Duke Streeter?” asked Count Hector Romanov Sutter, the Imperial cousin who had been chosen to wear the crown.
Street ignored the young man and stood over the Pope. “Your eminence. We need to hurry up the ceremony.”
“This is most irregular,” said the elderly man in the ornate robes of the supreme priest of the church. “It is not scheduled to start for another twenty minutes. Not everyone is seated.”
“There is a problem,” said Streeter, standing over the man and trying to intimidate him. “We need to get young Sutter crowned. So just skip all the pomp and ceremony, and place the crown on his head.”
“That cannot be done,” said the Patriarch, frowning. “The prayers must be said, the oaths taken. Without them the actual placing of the crown is without meaning.”
“Then start the damned prayers, now,” said Streeter, glaring at the man.
“But the start time has not arrived.”
Streeter leaned down till his mouth was close to the man’s ear. “Yes, it has,” whispered the Duke. “Now start the prayers, or I will see to it that you do not leave this church alive. Do you understand that?”
The old man nodded his wide eyed head and stood, looking around the church. He tapped his staff on the ground and motioned to the other clergy. “We are gathered here today to install a new Emperor to lead our Empire through the coming years. May the Lord God look with favor on young Count Hector Romanov Sutter, the legitimate heir to the Empire.”
Streeter nodded in satisfaction and took the Patriarch’s abandoned seat. He checked his chronometer, then the vid of the oncoming ships, and thought they just might make it.
*
“This is the High Prince Sean Ogden Lee Romanov, last living son of Augustine I and Anastasia, and legitimate heir to the throne of the New Terran Empire.”
“It’s no use, your Majesty,” said Lenkowski, looking at a side screen that showed the signal rebounding from the static that was being generated over the capital city. “They’ve even blocked the broadcast channels that were carrying the ceremony.”
And billions will still watch that traitor being installed over the net, through the fiber optics, from which we are blocked entirely. Of course, the military will still stand with me, or at least most of it. But the Empire really can’t afford even a small civil war at this time. “Time for plan B, Admiral. Let’s go in.”
“Yes, Majesty,” said the Admiral with a nod. He looked over at another screen and started issuing orders.
Outside a trio of battleships did what they were capable of but rarely attempted. They moved slowly under their grabbers into the atmosphere of the planet, directly above the capital city of Capitulum. People in the streets and parks, who had been watching the coronation ceremony on trivee and holo screens, looked up to see the tiny dots that were two and a half kilometer long warships slowly getting bigger. Around them were a score of smaller ships, then two more trios of battleships. They stopped falling ten kilometers over the city, hovering on their grabber units, while behind them fell the twenty million ton bulk of Valkyrie.
Sean watched the huge city from an assault shuttle in Valkyrie’s Hangar B. It had been years since he had been home, in this, the largest city of the Empire. Three hundred and seventy-five thousand square kilometers of urban development, home to over three billion citizens. A large river ran through the center of that urban landscape, emptying into the huge bay the city was built around.
Peal Island, thought Sean, looking down on the large land mass forty kilometers out in the bay. He had spent four years there, trying to get through the Imperial Fleet Academy on his own merit. And how much of that was a lie? He had tried to keep his heritage in the far background of all of his dealings with the Fleet. Gorbachev had told him that his wish had been impossible. As the son of the seated Emperor he could not help getting deferential treatment.
The ships in the force started to belch assault shuttles, and atmospheric attack craft rose up from Peal Island and the Imperial Army field to the north of the city. The shuttles fell toward the cathedral, while the atmospheric craft joined with them to fly cover.
“We’re ready to launch you, your Majesty,” said Grand Fleet Admiral Lenkowski over the com. “May God be with you. And try not to do anything that gets you killed.”
“Aye aye, sir,” said Sean with a laugh. “I have no intention of getting killed.”
As he said that the shuttle lifted from the hangar floor and started to move out. Around the Prince sat ten of his security detail in heavy battle armor, as well as Colonel Baggett, Commodore Lei and Vice Admiral Montgomery in their medium armor. They would be his witnesses. He had wanted to bring Dr. Conway and the Walborski lad along with him as witnesses, but had been talked out of it by Lenkowski. He still wished Jennifer were beside him, but realized that he was endangering her life if he brought her along.
The holo to his front centered on one of the assault shuttles, and the twenty battle suited Marines dropping from it. The view shifted back until it showed hundreds of Imperial Marines floating toward the ground, and more ejecting from shuttles by the second. The men floated to a stop twenty meters above the crowd, their weapons ready. Mor
e men landed in the front of the square by the doors to the cathedral and started clearing the crowd away, firmly but gently. At one point someone tried to force the issue, a human in the armor of the local police. Thankfully good sense prevailed, and the cop realized that the hard faced Marines were not going to back down.
One of the shuttles shuddered as alloy splashed from its hull. Sean’s eyes could follow the particle beam back to its origin, a hidden defensive position, part of the capital city defense grid. Instantly ground attack craft were on it, rippling off missiles and firing beam weapons into the position, which went up in a ball of fire. The crowd in the plaza began to cry out, some screaming, and many fought the press to get away.
“We’re trying to keep the collateral damage to a minimum,” came the voice of the Marine commander over the com. More Marines dropped, these away from the plaza and onto the defensive positions, which, though hidden, were still known to the military. Soldiers began to appear on the streets as well, humans and some aliens in medium armor, while aircraft hovered overhead.
“We need to get going,” said Sean over his com, looking at his own timer count down.
“Ready when you are, your Majesty,” said the leader of the close security detail.
“Then let’s do it.”
Sean’s seat rotated around and the hull opened, just as it was doing for all the other armored figures. The magnetic field in the seat pushed him through the opening and he was falling toward the cleared area in front of the cathedral. He looked at the building as he fell, from the kilometer high spires to the kilometer wide central dome that stood over the main space of the building. Several kilometers away were the massive structures of megascrapers, clawing their way five kilometers or more into the sky.
A shot flashed by, then another, and Sean turned his suit quickly to see Marines assaulting the windowed wall of a nearby tall building. Beam weapons lashed out, then explosives, shattering the almost shatter proof windows. Some of his security detail moved around him, and he was immediately surrounded by massive suits worn by men and women sworn to give their lives for him.
Exodus - Empires at War 04 - The Long Fall (Exodus Series #4) Page 3
