Pederson emerged from the central elevator and walked down the corridor toward the docking bay. Several other Directorate staff moved through the halls of the Intelligence Research Installation. Pederson himself had first entered the installation eight years ago, and had helped Freedman get the place up and running again.
He entered the operation center for the docking bay and stood in front of the large airlock door.
“They’ve just landed, sir,” a technician said.
After several minutes, the inner airlock door opened and three figures emerged. Two were obviously bodyguards; they wore black fatigues and berets and carried rifles. The third was a tall, slim man with broad shoulders. He wore a dark silver suit and tie.
McFinn had curly black hair, white skin, and dark eyes. His smile looked almost to be a smirk. He looked not a day over forty, but Pederson knew Robert McFinn to be sixty-six years of age. The wealthy could afford the best gene therapy.
“Minister McFinn.”
“You can call me Robert, if I can call you Lars.” McFinn emerged from the airlock with his guards. “Wait here,” he commanded them, “I will not be long.”
“All right, Robert. Right this way.” Pederson led his guest down the main hall and into a small conference room. “Please, sit.” He closed the door.
“Thank you, Lars. So, this is your lair?”
“From this location we run most of the Directorate’s ongoing operations.”
“Yes, I saw that. Very little goes on in Colorado these days.”
“Administrative and personnel functions are still carried out in Colorado.”
“But none of the fun stuff. Too bad I don’t have time for a tour.”
Pederson remained quiet.
“You’ve led somewhat of a charmed life, Lars. First recruited by the GID in ‘27 after a less than savory youth, after your initial training and assessment you were flagged with psychological issues.”
“That’s all behind me, Robert. My record for the last eleven years has been exemplary.”
“Exemplary?” McFinn laughed. “What do you call all that business in the Neutral Zone five years ago?”
“I was following the orders of the Assistant Director for Operations.”
“Great! The ‘I was only following orders’ excuse.”
“I have since taken on the responsibilities of that position,” Pederson said.
“Yes. Rocketing to the top, I see. After the extensive purges of the past five years since Her Majesty ascended the Throne, there weren’t many people left. How did you survive?”
“I know things.”
“Yes, I bet you do. Useful, I’m sure. Well, we probably both know enough to hang each other. Besides, given your past loyalties, I am sure what I have to say will interest you. But first, can you give me a summary of GID operations? I know, I’ve read the reports, but humor me. I want to hear it from you.”
“First, we are currently assisting the Imperial Navy and the Union Security Service in operations to quell nascent rebellions of former Snirr slave species on thirteen Imperial Worlds located in the Justified Conquest and Frontiers. Second, intelligence operations against the Korusk, consisting of both sigint and alienint, are ongoing. These operations have revealed some new data on the biology and society of that species, though we still do not have a clear picture of their overall technological prowess. Third, the Civilizational Combine to antispinward remains opaque to us. The Combine has discovered all efforts to penetrate their space and gather intelligence. However, there are no indications of the Combine taking any aggressive action towards us, or even any interest. Fourth, the GID has provided relevant data to the Imperial Exploration Service in support of Her Majesty’s upcoming Colonization Initiative Act, the effort to explore and settle the Far Frontier.”
Pederson paused and drank some water. Now to the meat of it.
“Operations against the Naati are complex and take up most of our time and resources. The restructuring of their defenses along the Neutral Zone over the past five years is the source of much puzzlement. They have literally pulled back and left only custodial forces near the Neutral Zone. We are seeing indications of a power struggle within the Command Authority. Two factions are vying for power. One of the factions, in power since the end of the Great Sophont War, calls themselves the Tolkists. Their policy is to spend the bulk of their intelligence and naval resources on studying us, to learn about us and to find weaknesses or gaps in our defenses. The newest faction is called the Reactionaries; they are much more aggressive and believe military strikes are the best way to gauge our defenses.”
“What is the cause of this power struggle?”
“The precipitating event seems to be the Anuvi Incident. We believe the fallout from that event to be much more extensive than we initially thought, but we do not know the exact catalyst. It is likely a major personality was killed during The Battle of the Third Moon of Anuvi III, but we do not know for certain.”
“What is the extent of the struggle?”
“At this point it just looks like differences in strategy. There is no indication of a wider civil conflict, now, or in the future. We saw this in ‘08 with the Magar Crisis, and earlier, in 2560, with the Tolk Succession. In each case differing factions of the Command Authority attempted to influence events, but one faction, the Tolkists, always dominated the others.”
“But you have never seen this ‘restructuring’ of defenses before. Is that correct?”
“Yes, that is correct. In ‘60 and ‘08, the defensive posture of the Hegemony never changed. The changes in defenses that have occurred over the past five years since the Anuvi Incident are unprecedented. We have seen nothing like it since the end of the Great Sophont War almost eight decades ago.”
McFinn put his elbows on the table and peaked his fingers. “Could it be one or both of the factions are pulling back fleets in preparation for conflict?”
“Yes. We have considered that possibility.”
“If this was the case, is it something we could exploit?”
“There is not enough information, but if it was true, sure, we could take advantage of it. What are you getting at?”
McFinn stood and paced the floor with his hands behind his back. “The last thirty years of Nicolas’ reign was destructive to the Union, to say the least. Sure, he was a competent ruler at first, but later, as he took a hands-off approach, drift set in, and then rot. The Union was essentially leaderless for thirty years. The Senate Worlds have grown bold, and regained some of their power at the expense of the Consul. Military officers like Admiral Kilgore also took advantage of the situation and cooked up all sorts of schemes.” McFinn looked at Lars. “Then there was Freedman; the man was insane. He had some sort of messianic complex about freeing the Union of all of its moral turpitude.”
Pederson’s face didn’t flinch. If Freedman were alive, you wouldn’t be fit to shine his shoes.
McFinn started to pace again. “Rebellion on Imperial Worlds, even if hopeless, is growing. The Senate Worlds have long taken advantage of the rot and weakness of Nicolas’ rule, despite Her Majesty’s efforts to exert her will on the governing structure of the Union over the past five years.”
McFinn faced Pederson. “Her Majesty believes that she must make a few bold moves to regain the prestige lost during the last thirty years of her father’s reign. The Colonization Initiative Act is one of her efforts in that direction, an attempt to regain the energy and glory of earlier times. But she believes there needs to be something else, something bolder.”
“What is she suggesting?”
“What do you know of the Kalix Campaigns?”
Lars sat a little straighter in his chair. Interesting. “In 2580 to 2584 Consul Nicolas annexed five Hominin worlds within the Independencies, a neutral territory antispinward of the Union. The Navy brought all worlds within the Union using military force. At the time, it was a very popular move, and brought the Consul much prestige.”
“E
xactly! The economic benefits of developing those backward worlds were extensive. Most important, Nicolas had furthered the original Reunification and Reconciliation Act of 2436 by bringing Hominin worlds within the protection of the Union. Remember, that was the initial justification of the Consul’s power as defined within the Act: the protection of Hominin life. The passage of that act was the de facto founding of the Hominin Union.”
“What does this have to do with the Naati?”
McFinn sat and placed his hands flat on the table. “Borrega.”
“Borrega?”
“If there is a nascent civil conflict within the Naati Hegemony, Borrega is the key.”
Pederson thought for a moment. “If the conflict between the two factions of the Command Authority escalates to civil war, the Union could seek an alliance with either one, but the Tolkist faction would be the best choice.”
McFinn leaned back in his chair and smiled.
“Once an alliance was sealed,” Pederson continued, “the Union could annex Borrega in the name of protecting the Human inhabitants from the civil conflict in the Hegemony. After that, it should be easy enough to provoke the other faction, and the Imperial Fleet could make a bold move into the Hegemony, straight for Naath, the Naati home world. Borrega is perfectly placed, strategically, for such a move.”
“I believe that was Kilgore’s, and Freedman’s, plan all along. If they had succeeded in provoking the Naati into war, Kilgore would have sent the Fifth Fleet to take Borrega, but Freedman became distracted by Kilgore’s downfall and the discovery of the artifact in the Anuvi system. Also, this brewing civil war is a weakness we can exploit.”
“The power struggle on the Naati Command Authority is nowhere near a civil conflict.”
McFinn smiled. “What if we helped it along?”
Pederson’s face slackened and his eyes grew wide. “Divide and conquer,” he whispered.
“How would we accomplish such a thing?” McFinn asked. “You’re the intelligence specialist.”
“Intelligence leaks. We can subtly feed one or both factions valuable intelligence, either useful, like technological innovation and strategic and tactical information, or misdirection, such as false moves on the part of one faction. Even insults could be useful, given the Naati mindset.”
“Could we also make the Reactionary Faction appear more of a threat to the Union using the same method?”
“I suppose so,” Pederson replied. “We could leak information about our own naval patrols or other military maneuvers, encouraging raids.”
“Excellent. If the Reactionaries seem more of a threat, it would encourage an alliance with the Tolkists. If the Union could defeat the Naati Hegemony for the last time, the benefits would be endless, and Her Majesty would secure her place in history. More than that, such a demonstration of power would make her enemies here in the Union think twice about challenging her.”
“What makes this scheme any different, morally, than Kilgore’s? Isn’t that why he wanted Jordan Destillières as Consul instead of Her Majesty?”
“Morally? There is no difference. In retrospect, Her Majesty blames Kilgore on her father’s indifference to rule. She thinks that if Nicolas embraced Kilgore’s plan, war with the Naati may have succeeded. Instead, Nicolas was only content to eat and fuck himself to death. Where Kilgore and Freedman failed, Her Majesty will succeed, with our help. ”
“And you would become even wealthier.”
“I only seek the greater glory of the Hominin Union and Her Majesty. Wealth is just the icing on the cake.” McFinn stood. “I am appointing you Director-General of the General Intelligence Directorate and increasing the budget by twenty-five percent. I will work with the Diplomatic Corps to establish official relations with the Tolkist faction and arrange a meeting. Keep me updated with your efforts to further destabilize the Naati Command Authority; the two efforts must proceed in unison.” McFinn picked up his walking stick. “One more thing: what about this Anuvi Artifact, and its creators? Is there anything there to worry about?”
Pederson was a good liar. “Not a thing. It was a one-off, a freak. With the artifact destroyed, I believe whatever race created it will not reappear. They have long since passed from the universe.”
“Good.” McFinn turned to leave.
Pederson couldn’t resist. “When was the last time you spoke with your son, Joshua?”
“Almost six years,” McFinn replied without turning around, “at the base of the Bangka Island Orbital Elevator.”
“He is a resourceful man, and he always manages to get in the middle of things. He has a talent for it.”
“I know.”
“He also has a conscience, it seems. Not at all like his father.”
McFinn looked over his shoulder. “I call it willful naiveté; it is a weakness he inherited from his mother. He will have his part to play, hopefully something that will teach him a lesson.”
“If he gets in the way, I won’t pull any punches.”
“I understand.” McFinn exited the room.
Pederson had come a long way since his misspent youth. Ever since the day Freedman tapped him on the shoulder for that first mission exploring this once abandoned base on the Moon, he had found his purpose in life. He couldn’t care less about McFinn, or Her Majesty, for that matter. His only loyalty was to the Union, the only hope for Humanity in a hostile galaxy full of horrific monsters. The defeat of the Naati would go a long way toward Humanity securing a safe place in the universe.
The Harbingers, however, were in many ways a bigger, but more distant, worry than the Naati. The GID had far more work to do to assess that threat, as well as exploit what it had learned. Dr. Batista, the Chief Scientist on the HSS Vitus Bering, had found some of the first clues to the Harbingers on the world of Cerilia IV, and Bacchus Freedman had locked up the location and quarantined the planet even before the Anuvi Incident. Pederson had kept Kruger’s fortuitous discovery of the artifact in the outer reaches of the Cerilia system secret from the Ministry.
Pederson also had an agent of sorts in Dr. Hans Joseph Beckenbaur, the geologist who had served on the Bering. Beckenbaur had developed an obsessive interest in the Harbingers; indeed, the man reminded him of Dr. Batista in the lengths he would go to find out more about that ancient star faring race. With a few nudges and some covert surveillance, Beckenbaur would unwittingly lead Pederson to the next prize.
It was also time for a little payback. The survivors of the Anuvi Incident had to answer for Freedman’s death.
McFinn
Commander Joshua Andrew McFinn slid down the ladder from the main engineering deck into the bowels of the Angau Coch. He stooped and crept through the access tube, surrounded by a myriad of pipes and access panels; the lights flickered, casting deep shadows.
“Dundas!” The only reply was the hum of the machinery. “Dundas! Where the hell are you?”
A few moments later, he heard the engineer’s deep voice ahead and to the left. McFinn picked his way over a pile of piping to see Dundas in a square hole in the deck, stripped to the waist, the massive muscles of his back straining as he attempted to hold a section of the inner bulkhead in place.
“Do you see it?” Dundas called out, the sweat pouring down his face.
“Yeah, I see it,” came a muffled reply. McFinn saw a pair of feet sticking out from a narrow crawl space.
“Dundas …”
“Just a second, Commander,” Dundas puffed. “Fuchs, you gotta turn it to the right while pushing in at the same time. Pull it off carefully! There’s a thorium source in there, so make sure you wear your gloves.” The engineer panted; the sweat dripped off his body.
McFinn heard a muffled curse. “I forgot my gloves!”
“Commander,” Dundas heaved; he looked at a pair of thick gloves lying on the floor. “If you could?”
McFinn jumped down into the small space. He knelt and did his best to throw the gloves into the small crawl space. He then stood and attempted to help
Dundas keep the heavy bulkhead elevated above the floor.
“We gotta get the hyperdrive up,” McFinn said, already sweating.
“I know, Commander,” Dundas said, “but life support is a tad more important right now, don’t you think?” His voice sounded full of frustration.
“Why don’t you turn off the gravity controls to this compartment?”
“The gravity controls for lower engineering shorted out during the battle,” Dundas heaved. “If I turn it off, I won’t get it back on again.”
“I got it!” Fuchs cried. He scrambled out of the crawlspace. His gloved hands held a thick orange cylinder.
“Carefully,” Dundas said, as he and McFinn lowered the bulkhead. With a heavy sigh, Dundas sat on a thick pipe and wiped his brow with a rag. He gestured at the cylinder Fuchs held. “That’s a contaminant detector; the third we’ve lost in the last nine hours.”
“We’re not going to be landing on any planet …”
“Commander, this ship is full of all sorts of contaminants and poisons. Any leak not detected could be fatal to the crew. We’ve been in space for five hundred and sixty two days, and got shot up in a pretty nasty skirmish. We need to put in for maintenance.”
“I realize that, Dundas, but the Captain won’t do it. We gotta track down those raiders.”
“We got whipped, Commander. In my professional opinion this ship is not battle worthy.”
McFinn sighed. He saw the rest of the crew getting frustrated and restless, but Dundas never complained. McFinn had never seen him like this in the eight years they had worked together.
“Well, Lieutenant Commander Dundas,” McFinn said, climbing out of the hole, “Captain Cavanagh is going to keep going, so we need to make do. Understand?”
The Borrega Test Page 5
