Merkiaari Wars: 02 - What Price Honour

by Mark E. Cooper

  “Let us not stoop to name calling. This august body is surely above such things.” Nathan Mindel said and calmed things a little by reaching for a carafe of water. He took a small sip, and others took the chance to do the same. When he began again the temper of the Council had cooled considerably and quiet was restored. “I have the President’s personal assurance that the Shan do not pose a threat to the Alliance. As Admiral Rawlins explained not long ago, they have no jump technology. However, there is the matter of one of our ships stranded and in need of aid.

  “I, and I’m sure all of you, wish to support our forces to the maximum. Indeed, I would be a fool if I did not.” Nathan looked directly into the President’s eyes for a long moment.

  Dyachenko inclined his head acknowledging the debt he had just incurred. He new Mindel would come to collect someday, but someday was not now, and he was grateful to him for calming the situation.

  “We of Northcliff know only too well what could happen if Fleet were not there to protect us. We must indorse Admiral Rawlins’ proposal to send a task force to extract Canada and her valiant crew. It’s the only honourable thing to do.”

  There was a good deal of applause for Mindel’s speech, but those applauding were barely in the majority. It would take a count of heads to be certain, but it was already obvious to Dyachenko that the Council was split.

  “We have debated the issue for days,” Councillor Hartman said. “I believe we know all we need to know. Admiral Rawlins has every right to send the task force as long as doing so does not impinge on the Council’s prerogatives. I think we can all agree that the rescue of Canada and her crew does not do that. Our place is to make policy, the military’s is to defend the Alliance. We should let them do their job, and get on with ours.”

  “Here, here!” Councillor Demkakova said and patted his table in quiet applause. “The rescue is obviously a concern of Navy Department planners and the Fleet, not ours. I think our time would be better spent on…” Demkakova trailed off as the doors to the Council chamber burst open and slammed against the wall as a white-faced Jerry McCartney hurried in.

  The Council erupted in whispering as the members craned their necks trying to see what the President’s chief of staff was doing here. Dyachenko’s stomach began to churn as Jerry made his way down the red-carpeted aisle toward him. The look on Jerry’s face told him it was going to be bad news, but not how bad.

  “Admiral Rawlins just informed me, Mister President,” Jerry whispered.

  He switched off his microphone before answering. “Informed you of what?”

  “Canada just came in shot to hell, but Shan ships didn’t do it. A Merki squadron did.”

  “What!” Dyachenko yelped. He just couldn’t help it, and the shock on his face silenced the Council. It was so quiet he could hear the faint hiss of the air conditioning overhead. “The Merkiaari?” he whispered.

  Jerry nodded. “The Shan fleet has been wiped out, and the Merkiaari are in the process of cleansing the twin planets of their system.”

  “Oh my God,” he said feeling sick. “Genocide.”

  “That’s not all. Captain Colgan blew away a substantial part of the Merki squadron before jumping out system.”

  “Serves the bastards right! I’ll give him a medal—a box of medals!”

  “As you say, but there’s more.”

  “What else?”

  “Paul Rawlins said to tell you that he’s put our forces on Red One alert. He expects an incursion to follow the destruction of the Shan homeworld. He said, and I quote: Burgton was right in everything but the time, he was five years out. What does he mean, Alex?”

  “Never mind that now. Do we have any idea how long we have?” Dyachenko asked, thinking about Burgton and his recruits. They needed those five years dammit!

  “No, but there’s more. Captain Colgan informed the Admiral that friendly relations have been initiated with the Shan elders, and that they assigned an ambassador to us before the attack. It seems the task force was not needed.”

  “Why didn’t he send a drone?” Dyachenko hissed under his breath. “If only we had reached them sooner!”

  “Colgan sent thirteen drones, but only three reached fold space. He says we’ll receive them in the next few days. Canada must have passed them on the way here, you know how slow they are.”

  Slow was an understatement. Urgent messages were sent by courier ship not drone, but of course, a ship big enough to carry a jump capable courier wouldn’t have been trapped in system in the first place.

  “God, what a mess,” Dyachenko said holding his head. “Did Paul give you his recommendations?”

  Jerry nodded and glanced at the silent and suspicious Councillors before turning back and whispering. “The Admiral is with the Shan ambassador now. He wants to order the—” Jerry lowered his voice still more. “He says time is critical. He wants your permission to order the 501st to join the task force.”

  “Against the Merkiaari?”

  “Yes. He says the task force is strong enough for the preliminary fight, but Admiral Meyers will need troops to take out the Merki ground forces already deployed. Vipers were designed for this very thing.”

  “Doesn’t he know I need Council approval for that?” Dyachenko hissed in frustration. “It’s not a rescue mission any longer, it’s a war!”

  “He said you would say that. Here’s his answer: We are already at war, Mister President, and have been for centuries. We can fight in the Shan system now, or in Sol system a few years from now. That was a direct quote, Alex, and he means it.”

  “Schedule a Cabinet meeting for tomorrow morning—early—but I want to talk to the Shan ambassador first. Get me up there as soon as possible.”

  Jerry nodded. “What should I say about the other thing?”

  “I’ll tell him myself.” Dyachenko leaned forward toward his microphone and switched it back on. “Councillors, I have grave news. The Merkiaari have attacked the Shan with heavy loss of life.”

  The uproar was deafening. Everyone shouted questions at once and he was unable to answer any. “I have been advised to commit the task force readied for the rescue mission in a... delaying action, while our forces mobilize to confront the threat.”

  “Delay? What good is a delay?” Councillor Whitby shouted, visibly afraid. “Send the Fleet! We must order the Navy to destroy them all!”

  Councillor Mindel clapped his hands slowly and sneered. “Very good. How?”

  “I’m not a soldier! Tell them to do it and leave the details to Admiral Rawlins!”

  Mindel pounced on the opportunity handed him. “What we need is more vipers, but people like you—just like you actually—forced this Council not to build more of the only weapons we have worth a damn against Merki ground troops! They are coming just as General Burgton said they would, and we might as well be naked for all the good our troops will do!”

  “How dare you speak to me like that? I’ll—”

  “You’ll what? You’ll be too busy hiding in your embassy’s basement.”

  “Please Councillors,” Dyachenko said. “We have no time for this. I need a vote on Admiral Rawlins’ recommendation to deploy the task force and sundry units to combat the Merkiaari. Please Councillors, this may be the most important decision ever to come before us. Green for yes, red for no.”

  All but one light burned green. The big screen on the wall above Dyachenko’s chair told the tale for all to see. Everyone turned to look at Councillor Mindel who had yet to cast his vote. Dyachenko knew Mindel hadn’t missed the way he had attached sundry units to the task force before calling the vote. In effect, the Council had just given him a free hand. He could order Admiral Rawlins to send every man and ship under his command and still claim that he was following the Council’s will. Not that he was going to do that of course, but it did give him a legitimate way to send Burgton’s men.

  Mindel smiled knowingly and pressed his green button, making Dyachenko’s decision to send the vipers to war compl
etely legal.

  “The vote is unanimous.” Dyachenko said with relief. “This meeting is adjourned until the same time tomorrow. I will report back to the Council with all we are doing to combat this threat. Until tomorrow.”

  Dyachenko stood and hurried out of chambers with Jerry trotting at his heels. As soon as he reached the exit, his security detachment fell in around him and escorted him to the car.

  “Where are Paul and the Shan ambassador?” he asked Jerry as the car pulled away.

  “Alliance HQ. It’s the only place we can keep the media out of.”

  “Christ, they’ll have a field day! Get me up there fast!”

  “It’s all arranged, Alex. We board your shuttle in less than five minutes.”

  “Destination?”

  “Gateway, sir. From there we transfer to a navy shuttle—faster than civilian models—which will take us direct to HQ. You’ll be with Paul in less than an hour.”

  “Good,” he said and stared out the window at nothing.

  * * *

  Alliance HQ, Luna, Sol system

  “—And you are feeling better now?” Paul Rawlins asked. “You’re sure?”

  Tarjei flicked her ears in agreement. “Ambrai healer very good,” she said, carefully enunciating the words in English. “He said...” she looked to her mate helplessly.

  Tei’Varyk’s jaw dropped into a smile. “Doctor Ambrai told me your nano technology dealt with the problem. I was very concerned, especially when the crew fell sick, but the little machines learn quickly.”

  Paul nodded. “So, all is well on that side of things. Maybe we can programme them for Shan physiology, but that’s a task for the future.”

  Tei’Varyk flicked his ears in agreement. “Even those used for surgery would be a boon to my people.”

  It seemed the Shan had not developed nanotech. Their interests had so far been directed outward, into macro rather than micro issues. Rawlins could hardly blame them for that. With the Merkiaari a constant threat, their first order of business had been building a defence net for their worlds followed by a fleet to protect the wider system. Health issues such as the prolonging of life with nanotech had not occurred to them.

  When Canada’s crew fell ill from an unknown virus, their bots had struggled at first to purge their systems. As one after another fell ill, Captain Colgan had feared for ship’s operations. It was touch and go, but the crisis had past with Doctor Ambrai apparently much the wiser. He had even written a paper on the experience. The first of its kind, it was sure to be hailed as a datum on cross species infection.

  “These Keeps you mentioned. Can they be detected from orbit?”

  “No,” Tei’Varyk said. “We designed them not to be, but who knows what new technology the Merkiaari have developed since the war? Our own ships cannot detect them, we made certain of it, but theirs? I don’t know.”

  “I can verify that, Admiral,” Colgan said. “Our scans of the surface turned up no trace of the Keeps. They are dug into the mountains so deep no emissions escape.”

  “That’s good news.”

  “It is,” Tei’Varyk agreed. “but you must realise that my people have been through this before. We hid in the deep forests and in caves. Many were discovered and killed, but enough of us survived to rebuild what was lost. They will not let that happen again. They will stay until none of us are left alive.”

  “Surely you don’t think they would use an orbital bombardment!” Rawlins felt sick at the thought of such lovely worlds destroyed by nuclear strike.

  “I do not know what moves them,” Tei’Varyk said. “Do they want our worlds for themselves? If they do, they will not destroy them utterly, but if that is so, why did they not attempt to colonise last time? If all they want is us dead, I put nothing beyond them.”

  Rawlins frowned. It had always been a puzzle. The Merkiaari fought and died for a planet, but instead of colonising their conquered worlds, they merely left garrisons and moved on to the next target. One of the most popular modern beliefs was that they did indeed intend to colonise captured worlds, but not until they had created a buffer around the captured territory. Preventing that had been a Fleet priority during the Merki War. Once colonised, liberating a captured world would have been close to impossible.

  General Burgton knew them best, yet even he was only guessing when he said they lived only to fight. Surely they had other pursuits. What of family? What of art and literature? They must have these things; they certainly had industry and technology. Without advanced technology and education, they could not wage their wars. Burgton believed that Merkiaari society was geared to support its military and not the other way around. He was of the opinion that everything was subordinate to their war effort, and that colonising new worlds was a means of claiming new resources. He might well be right.

  If Rawlins was honest with himself, he would rather not think of reasons for their behaviour except where it pertained to battle tactics. He preferred to kill them wherever found and would not try to paint them as other than they were. The Shan had it spot on, as far as he was concerned. The Merkiaari were genocidal maniacs, murderers on a massive scale, and that’s all they were.

  He was happy with that.

  The Alliance Council had officially accepted what most people, including top scientists, believed. That the Merkiaari as a species were inherently xenophobic in nature. Researchers were satisfied that there was nothing to be gained by further study, and had moved on to more interesting projects leaving the military to deal with Merki xenophobic tendencies.

  A fleet of dreadnaughts had always worked quite well.

  Rawlins leaned forward in his seat and clasped his hands on his desk. “What they want is a question our people have been asking for centuries. I will leave such questions to people who are better suited to answering them. My response to them is overwhelming force. That’s all they understand.”

  Tarjei growled low in her throat making Rawlins’ short hairs stand to attention. “Yessss,” she said with her muzzle still rumpled. “We should hunt together. We will find their lairs and destroy them all.”

  Tei’Varyk flicked his ears in agreement.

  A knock on the door heralded Joseph’s arrival. “The President has just landed, Admiral. He will be here momentarily.”

  “Thank you Joseph. Best arrange for some refreshments.”

  “Yes sir,” Joseph said and quietly closed the door.

  * * *

  President Dyachenko strode out of the tube and onto the concourse proper in a flurry of harried secret service agents. They were not happy with the suddenness of his decision to travel to Alliance HQ, but they were dealing with it.

  “Let us at least clear the concourse, Mister President,” Agent Carstens said, trying to look everywhere at once.

  “If I’m not safe here, Andrew, I’m not safe anywhere.”

  Carstens gave up and ordered his people to hold back the crowd as best they could. A dozen men in dark suites and wearing comm moved out and surrounded the President at a distance. They provided a globe of seeming safety for him as they moved along the concourse trying to keep their spacing.

  Alex kept his face neutral, denying the spectators anything to base their rumours on. He had no doubt the rumours would fly from his visit regardless, but that was better than allowing them to see his fear and learning the truth.

  “Here, Alex. In here,” Jerry said, diverting him toward the elevator.

  He stepped inside the waiting car without pause and his security detachment bundled inside. Jerry selected sublevel five and the car descended.

  “Mister President?” A quiet voice said, interrupting his reverie.

  “Yes,” he said, turning to find the source of the voice.

  In the corner were two women. Both wore the uniform of ensign, and were quite pretty, he thought. Both were squished against the car held there by two agents.

  “Stop that,” he said quietly and was instantly obeyed. “Let them out of there.”
<
br />   The disgruntled agents did as they were bid, but they hovered behind the two women ready to intervene should either one pull a nuke out of her pocket.

  “Thank you, sir,” Ensign on the right said and the one on the left saluted him. The first belatedly realised she should do the same. After all, she was in the presence of the Alliance’s supreme commander.

  Alex smiled and returned it, though he was very aware that his effort fell far short of their snappy movement. “Your names?”

  “Ensign Collier—Sandra, sir.”

  “Ensign Newman, sir. Everyone calls me Kim.”

  “Kimberly?”

  “That’s right, sir.”

  “Been in the service long?”

  “Six years, sir.” Kimberly said.

  “And you?”

  “The same, sir.”

  Ping! The lift stopped and the doors slid open.

  “How do you like it?” he asked as the detail trooped out of the lift to guard the corridor.

  “It’s all right, sir,” they chorused.

  Dyachenko ignored Jerry’s pleading look to hurry. “No more than that?”

  They seemed embarrassed, but Kim braced up and explained. “We wanted to work aboard ship, sir. Instead, I’m a glorified secretary. I’m getting out.”

  “Hmmm. You feel the system has failed you?”

  “It has, sir. I’m not the best officer, I know that, but I am good. Why should I spend my entire career filing reports?”

  “It’s an important job, I should think,” he said, shuddering at the thought of a lifetime of paperwork.

  “I suppose so, sir. But can’t they rotate the position?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll ask Paul about it.”

  Twin gasps and stammered denials. “Don’t do that!”

  “Not the Admiral!”

  He grinned, and stepped out of the lift. “Not to worry. He owes me a favour or three.”

  “But—” Sandra began, but the lift door slid shut.