Gwendolyn leaned forward. “Bad news?”
“Bad enough,” Ed said. The councillors had finally sent him a note stating that he would be required to testify before the hearing on the following day. He had to admire their speed, he reluctantly admitted. On Earth, it could take years to organise the hearing; hell, the question of what shape the table would be could occupy them for months. Unless, of course, someone with enough political clout was pushing the issue forward. “They want me to talk.”
He shook his head. Back on Earth, most military officers who had to face a hearing were forced to undergo a pre-hearing hearing called a Murder Board, where PR officials would force them to rehearse answering questions that ranged from the stupid to the perceptive. He hadn't faced a Murder Board before facing the Grand Senate himself, which might be why his Marines had been exiled from Earth. Given what they’d heard since then, they might well be luckier than any of the Marines or civilians who had remained on Earth. God alone knew what had happened to them.
“Good luck,” Gwendolyn said, sympathetically. “These guys will probably be more focused than the Grand Senate.”
Ed made a face. In OCS, they’d been forced to watch recordings of hearings held by the Grand Senate on Earth. Half of the Grand Senators had spent their allocated time making speeches rather than asking questions, let alone listening to the answers. Somehow, whatever else could be said about the Council, he doubted it would have that problem. All twenty-one councillors had a long experience of practical work, rather than professional politics.
Strange, he thought cynically, how something that works well can work against us.
“True,” he said. He put the envelope down, then looked up at her. “Is there anything new from Training Command?”
“I believe the Drill Instructors would prefer you didn't keep harassing them for details,” Gwendolyn said, dryly. “They are responsible for the recruit training program.”
Ed nodded, abashed. The temptation to micromanage was overpowering, all the more so as the training program expanded and became more complex. Soon, they’d have to give serious thought to building their own version of the Slaughterhouse. The traditions of the Marine Corps would live on, in one form or another. But would it be the same when the soldiers served on their own homeworlds, when they could go back home at any time? Or would something be lost along with the Empire the Marine Corps had once served?
“They probably would,” Ed said, reluctantly. Training was vitally important – and badly-trained soldiers were hard to retrain to acceptable standards. And yet, there had been surprisingly few problems ... which might be about to change. Ed rather suspected that Councillor Travis intended to shine a light into every last section of the military on Avalon. “Is there anything else I can use to distract myself?”
“There’s a couple of updates from Corinthian,” Gwendolyn said. “The provisional government is looking forward to sending new recruits to Avalon – and has expressed interest in the Stormtrooper program. And support for the Commonwealth as a whole remains at an all-time high.”
Ed smiled. If there was one definite advantage to being on Avalon – apart from not having the Grand Senate meddling in his operations – it was that they genuinely did manage to do some good for the sector. Admiral Singh’s regime had been disposed and a new regime, a provisional government, had taken over, long enough for Corinthian to join the Commonwealth, along with the other worlds Admiral Singh had conquered. Corinthian alone represented a major boost to the Commonwealth’s industrial base, while the starships they’d captured had strengthened the Commonwealth Navy.
Good thing we acted as fast as we did, he thought, ruefully. If she’d invaded our space, we would have been crushed very quickly.
He shook his head, wondering – again – just what had happened to the thousands of starships that had made up the Imperial Navy. Worries over just who had taken control of them were what kept him up at night – and drove him to invest vast resources in the advanced weapons development project. Avalon had started with nothing more than a handful of shuttles and an orbital station. It was a miracle that they’d managed to expand as far as they had – and yet, if a full Imperial Navy fleet survived, they would be badly outgunned. They had to enhance their technology.
“That’s something I can mention at the hearing,” Ed said, finally. “Anything else?”
Gwendolyn smirked. “Several requests for technical support, a couple of planets requesting the deployment of Marines or Stormtroopers to back them up against bandits ... and the usual reports from the border,” she said. Her face fell, slightly. “We’re going to have trouble, boss.”
“I know,” Ed said. He’d hoped that sharing the perils of a siege would have formed a bond between himself and the Wolfbane representatives, but even if one existed, their superiors had different ideas. “I think we have to prepare for the worst.”
His console chimed. Ed glanced at it, automatically, then blinked in surprise. The message had been sent from a courier boat that had just entered orbit – a courier boat, rather than a freighter or military starship. There were only a handful of such craft within the Commonwealth. The Empire had used them to keep the more populated star systems in touch, but they’d long since been largely withdrawn from the Avalon Sector and the surrounding regions.
Gwendolyn frowned. “Trouble?”
“I think so,” Ed said. The message was from Thule, a world right on the border between the Commonwealth and Wolfbane. He downloaded the message, then skimmed it automatically. “They want help. A lot of help.”
“I see,” Gwendolyn said. “And can we help them?”
“That would be a question for the Council,” Ed said. He gritted his teeth. The timing was terrible – assuming, of course, that it was also a coincidence. Long experience had taught him the more unpleasant a coincidence happened to be, the less likely it was a coincidence. “I’ll have to raise it with them ASAP.”
“Tomorrow,” Gwendolyn said. Her face twisted into a grimace. “They won’t make any decision tonight.”
Ed nodded, reluctantly. Even if he had insisted on calling a full meeting, it would have been difficult to get them to read the message. Hell, the timing was just lovely. A debate over the use of the CEF away from Avalon, mixed with a request to deploy the CEF to another world ... and away from Avalon. It was not going to go down well with the politicians.
At least it isn't an immediate problem demanding an immediate response, he thought, grimly. But what will happen if we do have an immediate problem we have to solve?
“I’ll speak to Gaby tonight, anyway,” he said. They’d already agreed that he would sleep in the barracks, although he suspected it was a waste of effort. “And then we will see how best to proceed.”
“Good luck,” Gwendolyn said, again.
Chapter Five
Or the mining colony on Stan’s World, where the miners were permanently indentured to the operating corporation. They rebelled ... and the military supported the corporation, without making any attempt to address the legitimate grievances of the miners. Unsurprisingly, the rebellion continued until Stan’s World’s entire ecosystem fell into ruins.
- Professor Leo Caesius. War in a time of ‘Peace:’ The Empire’s Forgotten Military History.
Ed slowed to a halt as he reached the heavy wooden doors barring the entrance into the formal council chamber. The two guards on either side of the door looked at him, then snapped to attention. Ed honestly wasn't sure if they were meant to show him any signs of respect, but he couldn't blame them, under the circumstances. The Commonwealth wasn't old or wealthy enough to develop separate military organisations with separate chains of command.
The door opened, revealing the Commonwealth Council Chamber. Unlike the Grand Senate on Earth – assuming it still existed – it was strictly formal, with no decoration beyond a large oil painting of the first Constitutional Convention. Ed saw himself in the painting, standing to one side as Gaby and the other Coun
cillors signed their names to the document, and wondered – once again – just who the artist had used for a model. Even at the peak of his career in the Marines, he hadn't had muscles on his muscles.
He stopped in front of the council bench and saluted, feeling his dress uniform crinkling oddly against his skin. He’d been advised to wear all of his medals as well as his Rifleman’s Tab, but he’d declined the suggestion. The Commonwealth Council would not be overawed by his awards, particularly not the ones they’d issued to him themselves. And, unlike the Grand Senate, they wouldn't play petty politics with military awards. A good third of them had military experience of their own. If nothing else, Ed considered, they would understand the limitations of the military as well as its capabilities.
“Please, be seated,” Councillor Stevens said. She was chairing the hearing, as Gaby was Ed’s partner. “There are two issues facing us today.”
Ed had to admit that he rather liked her. She was a middle-aged woman who’d been neutral in the Cracker War, insofar as someone could be uninvolved in the conflict. She’d been a doctor who’d treated both sides equally – and, for some reason, the old Council had left her alone. After the end of the war, she’d revamped the public health service on Avalon and run for office. Her landslide victory had surprised no one.
A Grand Senator would have wasted time with a long speech, either praising himself or attacking his opponents. Councillor Stevens came right to the point.
“We have received a request from Thule for military assistance against an insurgency,” she said. “Under the circumstances, the timing is particularly unfortunate, as we are here to debate the earlier deployment of the CEF and how it turned into a disaster of major proportions.”
Ed couldn't disagree. Once, the Council would have accepted his decision. Now ... they had their doubts about his competence. And, really, could he blame them? The buck stopped with whoever had been in command at the time and Ed, the Colonel of Marines and CO of the Commonwealth Military, had been in command. And he had made the decision to deploy the CEF.
Councillor Stevens pressed on. “Colonel Stalker,” she said, “do you believe we should respond to Thule’s request for help?”
Ed stood, clasping his hands behind his back. “The Commonwealth was founded on many agreements between its original member planets,” he said. “One of those agreements was that the Commonwealth would respond to a request for help, should one be made. Thule has requested help and we have a legal obligation to provide help, if requested. We cannot back out of the agreement simply because we find it politically embarrassing now.”
He paused. When it became apparent that no one was going to interrupt, he pressed on.
“We gave our word, Councillor, that we would respond to a cry for help,” he continued. “If we break our word now, we will not be trusted in the future. The Commonwealth will eventually come apart if the treaties, the glue binding it together, are not honoured. We cannot run the risk of destroying the Commonwealth.”
Councillor Travis held up his hand to be recognised. “I have reviewed the data on Thule carefully,” he said, flatly. “The planet considers itself democratic, but in practice the franchise is restricted heavily. Do we really wish to prop up their government?”
Why, Ed asked himself, did he have to be so ... capable?
“Thule once possessed the largest industrial base in its sector,” Ed said. “Even now, it is still formidable – and, in the future, will grow to dominate the region. We cannot afford to let Thule slip out of the Commonwealth, let alone turn hostile. The Commonwealth needs them too much.”
He paused. “The treaties were signed by the legitimately-elected – by their rules – government,” he added. “Do we wish to break our own agreement not to intervene in local politics by refusing the government’s request for help?”
Councillor Travis snorted. “But we would be supporting a government that isn't all-inclusive.”
Ed took a breath. “The Commonwealth agreed not to intervene in the internal affairs of its member states,” he reminded the Council. “We did not want to become like the Empire, which meddled whenever someone bribed the Grand Senate to intervene in their favour. We may not approve of how a member state comports itself, but we have no legal grounds to intervene. And, I might add, as no state can bar emigration, they will eventually have to modify their own system or find themselves running an empty planet.”
He kept his face expressionless, despite his amusement. The Commonwealth had too many member states with restricted franchises, but several of them were already reforming. Their populations knew there were opportunities elsewhere in the Commonwealth, on Avalon and a dozen other worlds with no political restrictions, and were leaving in droves. And trying to prevent people, particularly skilled technicians, from leaving would be grounds for intervention or suspension from the Commonwealth. That would be political and economic suicide almost anywhere.
“Furthermore,” Ed continued, “the local government’s franchise is based upon employment or tax payments. As the economy of the Commonwealth grows larger, there will be more call for services from Thule, which will expand its own economy and thus its employment pool. Their crisis, caused by a vast collapse in the employment rate, will eventually be reversed by their involvement in the Commonwealth. It is our duty to support them long enough for them to get back on their feet.”
“But you could be wrong,” Councillor Travis pointed out.
“I agree that it is a possibility,” Ed said, hiding his irritation at the jab. “But the Commonwealth’s economy has doubled in size over the last year. Integrating Corinthian and the surrounding stars laid the groundwork for continued expansion. I believe that our economy will triple in size over the next two years.”
There was a long pause. “I would like to raise an issue,” Councillor Jackson said. He’d been a Cracker, one of the ones loyal to Gaby. Ed wasn't sure if that meant he would support Ed openly or if he would make a show of asking probing and incisive questions, just to establish his political independence. “There is a wolf at the door.”
A low stir ran through the audience as they looked up at the starchart. On one side, the stars belonging to the Commonwealth shone green; on the other, the stars belonging to Wolfbane shone red. It was clear, from the display, that Thule was within a bare handful of light years from Wolfbane-held territory. The Commonwealth’s expansion was bringing it up against another interstellar power of unknown size.
Ed scowled, inwardly. There were just too many unanswered questions about Wolfbane, questions he needed answered as quickly as possible. Just how many stars did they control, he wondered, and just how many starships had they salvaged from the ruins of the Empire? And, for that matter, just what did they want? Governor Brown’s file hadn't suggested a rabid empire-builder, but someone who had built up relationships with no less than five massive interstellar corporations was clearly more formidable and ambitious than the file showed.
And if he truly wanted to reunite the Empire, he would have dealt with us openly, Ed thought, grimly. Instead, we had the farce ...
Councillor Jackson’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Do you feel, Colonel, that Wolfbane presents a threat?”
Ed met his gaze. “The unknown is always dangerous,” he said. “We have no embassy on Wolfbane, no trading relationships; we don’t even have a secure means of communicating with them. Our ships have been expelled from their space, as have starships belonging to the Trade Federation. Their freighters, however, have been permitted to enter our space at will, allowing them to spy on our deployments. I do not believe that they have dealt honestly with us.”
He paused, then pressed on. “Assuming that their industrial base matches what our records show, before the Empire left us, they would be a formidable opponent,” he added. “We have to face up to the possibility that they may mean us harm.”
The Grand Senate, he knew, would have questioned that assertion. They’d been so secure in their power and supre
macy that the thought of someone threatening them was inconceivable. None of the Councillors had any problems coming to terms with the fact that some people meant them a great deal of harm. It made them far more capable governors, Ed had no trouble admitting, than the Grand Senators.
“There is also the simple fact that Thule represents a major prize,” he said. “And there are definite reports of off-world involvement with the rebels. Wolfbane may well be supporting them, hoping that they will win and then withdraw from the Commonwealth, removing their industrial base from our sphere of control. Even if they didn't join Wolfbane afterwards, it would still weaken us relative to them.”
“We don’t want another war,” Councillor Stevens said, softly.
“With all due respect, Councillor,” Ed said, “it only takes one party to start a war.”
The discussion raged back and forth for several minutes. Even on Avalon, the councillors had to look as though they were doing their jobs, even if it meant asking the same questions over and over again. Compared to the Grand Senate, however, Ed had to admit they knew what they were doing. But no clear decision could be taken until all the facts were exposed and dragged out into the light.
“Deploying the CEF to Thule could be an open-ended commitment,” Councillor Travis said, when the last set of questions had faded away. “Could you promise that the commitment would definitely be limited?”
Ed shook his head. “With all due respect, Councillor,” he said, “war is a democracy. The enemy gets a vote. If things went according to plan” – the hasty deployment plan he’d sketched out yesterday, after the request for help arrived – “the CEF would provide a stiffening force to assist the locals in holding their ground while new soldiers were trained to take the offensive. Ideally, the deployment would take no more than a year.
“However, nothing ever goes quite according to plan. We can expect the rebels to understand what we are doing” – for more reasons than one, he admitted in the privacy of his own head –“and to work to counter it. Even with our ... political advantages, we would still find it an uphill slog if the rebels oppose us at every turn. The deployment could last much longer than a year.”
Retreat Hell Page 5
