Principles of Desolation

by Randall N Bills

  This will end, Danai thought. This will end right now. She turned and held up her palm. "Stop," she said.

  The man stopped.

  "Talking doesn't seem to work for you," she said. "Try something else."

  The man furrowed his brow. "Like . . ."

  "See, you're talking again. Try anything but that." She turned and walked away.

  The dark cloud in her brain had fallen, and her vision dimmed. She didn't hear anyone behind her, and she was grateful. If the dark-haired man kept after her, he'd end up with a broken neck in short order.

  She remembered the DropPort on Terra, walking past the disgruntled travelers, making them look at her. She had sought the attention, courted it, and that certainly hadn't been the first time in her life. Slender, teenaged females in the Magistracy of Canopus don't have to look far for people willing to pay attention to them. But now the thought of someone looking at her turned her stomach. She wanted to kill the dark-haired man, or herself. Or both. Or neither.

  She'd be better off alone right now.

  4

  Jifang PoCity, Aldebaran

  Republic of the Sphere

  19 October 3135

  It was the blackest night Legate Sophia Juk had ever seen. Aldebaran's moon was dark, and somehow even the stars seemed to have dimmed. She had always drawn reassurance from the stars, from the knowledge that a mighty nation surrounded her. Now, as the Republic seemed to be flaming out, everything else in the Inner Sphere seemed to be fading as well. Every celestial body for hundreds of light-years was slipping into a common blackness.

  At least Aldebaran was relatively calm. There had been minor disturbances and a few demonstrations, all quite understandable in the light of recent events. Most of those events had slacked off in the past few days, as the planet's population settled into stunned inaction.

  On nearby Zurich, things were much worse. Full-scale rioting, some of which placed members of the planetary militia on the side of the insurgents, consumed much of the planet. A large portion of the population had given in to the sense of betrayal that had followed Exarch Levin's announcement of the closure of Prefecture X, and for two weeks had let themselves become rage personified.

  Governor Melvin Gulvoin had tried to keep the peace, making continuous media appearances and dispatching his planetary militia anywhere and everywhere trouble broke out. But no one was watching the news anymore, and the militia had its hands full battling itself. They had little time to spare for anyone else. The last straw was the death of Legate Corl Burton at the hands of his own personal secretary. Shortly after that, Gulvoin went into hiding. His last known order was sending an envoy, Lieutenant Governor Ferdinand Cuyos, to Aldebaran for a "strategic planning session." Legate Juk had little doubt that the meeting would be nothing more than a long plea for help.

  The envoy had landed only fifteen minutes ago, and Juk was immediately summoned out of bed to the governor's mansion. Her close-cropped hair required little maintenance, and she always had at least one uniform pressed and ready to go, so she managed to be on the move within minutes of her summons.

  She didn't know why the meeting had to take place so quickly—even if Aldebaran had substantial help to offer, it wouldn't arrive on Zurich for more than a week. Would it make that much difference if the meeting were delayed until morning?

  She hated herself for the thought. If her home were going up in flames, she wouldn't want to wait a single moment to work on the problem. It didn't matter if hurrying would help get the problem solved; it would be better than sitting around.

  Her driver pulled into the large circular drive in front of the mansion. The governor's house looked like a block of iron that had been heated and then pummeled with gigantic sledgehammers. A few windows were visible here and there, but for the most part the facade was odd angles and drooping metal. Sophia had been here several times, but it always took her a moment to remember where the main door was.

  Once she found the door, she had to wait in front of it for a moment while cameras verified her identity. Then the door slid open.

  She went through two more security checkpoints before she was admitted to a windowless room somewhere in the bowels of the mansion. She'd had to ride two elevators to get there, one up, one down, so she was never sure if she had ended up above or under the ground.

  The room was a simple oval, lit by a glowing tube that circled the ceiling. Four large screens, one on each wall, played constant updates of news, troop locations, and— in case the governor cared—stock and commodities prices. A heavily lacquered black table took up most of the floor space.

  Governor Sampson, flanked by two aides, sat at the head of the table. What hair he had was smooth and moussed, his shirt was wrinkle-free and his eyes looked alert.

  Seated to Sophia's right was a short man with black, slicked-back hair. He sat absolutely still—Sophia assumed he was breathing, but she had no way to be sure.

  Sampson stood as she entered. "Legate Juk," he said. "This is Lieutenant Governor Cuyos of Zurich. I'm sure you know why he's here, so I'll dispense with introductory matters and allow Mr. Cuyos to get to business."

  "Thank you. Governor," Cuyos said. Sophia had to lean forward to hear him. "I wish I could report that the situation on my planet has improved. While the rioting seems to have calmed for the moment, the governor believes that's only because the rioters have run out of targets. Much of the planet still remains outside government control. Our militia is next to powerless—many troops have rebelled, others have simply gone home. In short. Governor Sampson, Zurich is rapidly falling into anarchy. We need aid."

  "That much is clear," Sampson said in his customary even tones. "What I have difficulty understanding is why you are here instead of in the capital. Surely they are the ones who should organize the distribution of troops in the prefecture. We have only our own militia at our disposal, and we face the same concerns as you, if not to the same extent. It would not seem wise to part with any of our forces at present. I'm sure you understand."

  In the blink of an eye, Cuyos lost his composure. He jumped to his feet, and his chair rolled backward into the wall. He waved his arms, and for the first time Sophia noticed sweat stains on the armpits of his jacket.

  "Understand?" he yelled. "I understand that the house I grew up in, my family's house, burned to the ground the day I left my planet! I understand that hundreds of my people are dying every day! And I understand that there is no more Republic! At the very least there is no more Prefecture VI! New Canton is the capital of nothing! I came to you because we are neighbors. If we do not act together in this universe, both of us will fall. We need your help. We are your countrymen. We are your friends. And we are falling apart."

  Sophia was impressed at Cuyos' passion, but it did not change a thing. In the time it would take for reinforcements to get from Aldebaran to Zurich, the rioting on Zurich could end while new tension broke out on Aldebaran, and the militia would be more than a week away from being able to come back and help. Nothing could be spared.

  The governor sat quietly as Cuyos stood over him, panting. Sophia saw no sign that anything Cuyos had said registered with Sampson. He certainly didn't appear swayed.

  The silence stretched into discomfort. Cuyos' breathing evened out. He wiped sweat from his brow, looked at Sophia, then back at Sampson. Then he slowly reached back for his chair, rolled it forward and sat down.

  Sampson did not speak until Cuyos was firmly in his chair, and when he did his tone was unchanged. "I admire your passion on behalf of your people. As you might imagine, I have the same loyalty to the people I serve, and you must understand that I am required to take care of my people first. With the many threats that surround us, it would be criminally irresponsible of me to remove security from my planet."

  Cuyos' head drooped, but Sampson was not yet done. "However, allow me to point out that there are other ways we may assist you besides sending troops. Permit me the rest of the night to gather some of these resources,
and in the morning we can talk more specifically about what we can offer you and the best way to move our contributions to Zurich."

  Cuyos nodded. "Thank you," he said, his voice returning to a thin whisper. "We will talk in the morning."

  A young lady in a gray jacket and black skirt walked into the room, summoned by some signal sent out by Sampson. "Quarters have been prepared for you," Sampson told Cuyos. "Lira will show you to your rooms."

  Cuyos nodded silently, then shuffled out of the room. His body looked weary enough to sleep for an entire day, but his eyes seemed too haunted to allow even a moment's rest.

  Sophia, knowing Governor Sampson liked to have an extra word after most such meetings, remained in her chair. Even if Sampson had nothing more to say to her, she had at least one thing to say to him.

  Sampson spoke as soon as the door closed.

  "I apologize for calling you out at this hour," he said. "You may think I could have handled this matter on my own, and you may be correct. However, whenever I make pronouncements about the state of the planetary militia, I feel it's wise to have the legate present so that we may demonstrate a unified front. All this is to say that, though you may not have spoken at the meeting, I found your presence valuable."

  "Thank you, Governor. And I was happy to present a 'unified front' with you, since I agree with what you said—we can't send our military anywhere."

  "Indeed. The situation here is stable, but tenuous. It's best not to tempt fate."

  "It's more than just internal trouble," Sophia said. "It's worse than that. We're going to be invaded."

  A small crack appeared in Sampson's normally composed face, a sight Sophia rarely saw. It was nothing more than a small tic, a twitching in his cheek, and then his expression returned to normal.

  "Do you have some intelligence information I'm not yet privy to?" he asked.

  "Nothing specific, no," Sophia said. "But it's only a matter of time. Daoshen Liao has taken Nanking. He's right on the border of the Republic's new iron curtain, and no one's come out to cause him any trouble. The exarch made it clear that no one's to cross his new border, but it's equally clear that no one's coming out.

  "So Liao's got position. What's he going to do with it? Take New Canton. And the best way to do that is to go through us. The Capellans are coming. I just don't know when."

  "Are we strong enough to withstand them?" Sampson asked.

  Sophia stifled the urge to laugh at the question. "I have total faith in the loyalty, skill and determination of our militia. But before things fell apart, we weren't a border world. Our forces were never designed to withstand an invasion, especially from one of the major Houses of the Inner Sphere. If they come—when they come—we will give them a battle. But on our own, we won't win it."

  Then, for the first time, Sophia saw Sampson's composure break completely. His posture sagged, his chin drooped and he ran his hand through the tuft of hair over his left ear, leaving it bedraggled.

  "We are completely on our own. There is no help available." Sampson's voice, normally calm and aristocratic, had become a low, flat drone. "You heard about the conditions on Zurich—they will be no help. If we approach our neighbors like Cuyos approached us, we'll get the same response—they'll be apologetic, but they'll tell us they need to look out for their own. Our only hope was New Canton, but I can't believe they'll send aid. Nanking received nothing, and I have no reason to believe we would be any different. We'll be left alone."

  "We need to at least ask," Sophia said. "There still is a Republic, no matter what Cuyos thinks. New Canton is still the capital of the prefecture. They still owe it to us to participate in our defense."

  "They owed it to Nanking, too," Sampson said flatly.

  "Then we can argue it's in their self-interest to send aid. They're going to have enemies at their doorstep sooner or later. If it's not the Capellans, it could be the Oriente Protectorate. They might as well put up a fight here, with the help of our militia, rather than wait for enemy forces to land on New Canton, where they'll have to battle them without our help. They leave us alone, they'll just be leaving an open road that the Capellans or the Protectorate will run over to get to them."

  Sampson sighed. "That argument would persuade me," he said. "I'm just not convinced it will persuade them."

  "We have to at least fry!" Sophia said. "We can't just sit here, waiting, not looking for help!"

  Sampson's shoulders briefly moved up and down in a weary shrug. "Do what you will," he said. "Find help if you can." But he already looked defeated.

  20 October 3135

  The first DropShip of the morning, the merchant ship Brigham's Wagon, was scheduled to leave at 5:20. Chaos was increasing across the Republic as its borders collapsed, but that didn't remove the need for trade—if anything, the demand for goods to be shipped from planet to planet only grew as military activity increased and people kept seeking safe havens.

  It was already five o'clock, and the captain of the ship wasn't in his command chair. He wasn't even on the ship. He looked at his watch, then at the ship, then at his watch again. Three seconds had passed. Time might be moving slowly, but there was still no way the launch would take place on time.

  The captain wished the delay had a single cause, because then he would have a clear target to yell at. But everything seemed to be dragging behind in unison—the last shipment of crates had arrived late, ship's maintenance was behind schedule and three members of his crew were in their bunks, rolling around in the grip of a nasty virus. And he couldn't really yell at the virus, could he?

  He was left to sit in the captain's lounge of the DropShip port and watch a holovid 'Mech joust in which he had no real interest. He couldn't even have a drink, as that sort of thing just before liftoff was frowned upon. Two other people were in the lounge, but both of them seemed to have just finished a trip instead of being on the verge of starting one, and they looked quite content to drink alone and talk to no one.

  The lounge door slid open with a squeak. Someone should oil the damn thing, the captain thought, turning toward the door because whatever entered was bound to be more interesting than the holovid.

  Or maybe not. It was just a couple of gorillas in militia uniforms. The captain thought about asking them how they got clearance to enter the lounge, but then decided not to bother. Military people usually could get clearance for any place they wanted to go.

  The uniformed men kept their hands on their sidearms as they entered. They positioned themselves on either side of the door and made a quick visual scan of the room. Then one of them poked his head back through the door and nodded once.

  The next person who entered was immediately the most interesting thing in the lounge. By a wide margin. She sported a more formal version of the uniform worn by her escorts, gold braids on her shoulder where the others simply had red bands. Streaks of gray ran through her short black hair, and her oval face was composed. She looked singularly unintimidating, unless you took account of the fact that she had the entire planetary militia at her command.

  Legate Sophia Juk was moving briskly and decisively, heading right for the captain. An impulse to run came over him, but he had nowhere to go. He imagined that was part of the reason Juk had brought her two companions. Not knowing what else to do, he stood.

  Juk started talking before she stopped walking. "Captain." she said. "I have a data chip for you. You will take it with you to New Canton and bring it to Prefecture VI Military Command. Give the chip to the guards at the entrance, but don't let it out of your sight. As soon as they've given it an initial scan, they'll summon Edmund Barkes." She anticipated his question before he could speak, raising her hand to tell him not to interrupt. "Never mind who he is. He'll meet you at the entrance. You can turn the chip over to him.

  "Now, some things you should know. If you refuse this mission, you'll be placed under arrest for treason. Do not attempt to read the chip on your own—you won't be able to crack it, and if you try, I'll find out, and y
ou'll never be able to enter this system again. That's the stick. Here's the carrot—once Barkes has the chip, ten thousand C-bills will be transferred into your account as payment for your service."

  She pressed the chip into his hands. "Aldebaran thanks you."

  She turned away abruptly, obviously not interested in anything the captain had to say. He knew he should remain silent, knew he wasn't supposed to know anything about what was in the chip. But he couldn't keep the words from flowing out of his mouth.

  "What is this?" he asked.

  Legate Juk didn't turn back or break stride. "A fool's hope," she said, then led her two soldiers out of the lounge.

  The captain squeezed the chip with white knuckles. Now he had something he could curse at.

  5

  Lianyungang, Liao

  Capellan Confederation

  1 November 3135

  If there was anything worse than being humiliated by a commanding officer, it was waiting to be humiliated.

  Sang-shao Shaiming Tao, commander of the Second McCarron's Armored Cavalry, had summoned Danai as soon as she had disembarked. She was fairly certain he'd be meeting with all the senior officers, but as she walked out of the DropPort, she looked at the other officers and none of them seemed in a hurry to get anywhere. She'd made it to the head of Tao's interview list, and she didn't think that was a good place to be.

  She had been ready for Tao to tear into her as soon as she entered his office, but instead he made her wait while he studied something on his noteputer. She looked around the office a few times, taking in the tapestry depicting a Davion-Capellan conflict from the Fourth Succession War, a sadly neglected Zen garden, and several military and history texts, all bound in red leather covers. Even after she lost interest in her surroundings, Tao still stared silently at his noteputer. His expression hadn't changed since Danai entered, and that wasn't good. His broad forehead was deeply creased, and he had drawn the tips of his eyebrows so close together that they almost touched. The right side of his narrow mouth drooped farther than the left, seeming ready to wrap around his jaw. The effect was accentuated by the fact that Tao had very little chin space.