He walked through the doors and into a small conference room. It was smaller than he’d expected, strikingly plain. In his experience, planetary governments tended to build themselves the most ornate complexes they could, regardless of the cost. He’d even been in a complex where the walls were literally lined with gold. But Corinthian seemed to have avoided that particular trap. It was, he suspected, a legacy from Admiral Singh. She was smart enough to know that power, rather than the appearance of power, was all that mattered in the universe.
And if they realised they’d drawn that lesson from Admiral Singh, he thought as the two people in the room rose to face him, what would they do with it?
“Colonel Stalker,” a rich contralto said. “And Jasmine. It has been a while.”
Ed nodded. President Danielle Chambers looked young for her role, although he knew for a fact that she was the mother of two children. Her dark skin and darker hair suggested both youth and maturity, although the fact she was one of the handful of resistance leaders who had survived Admiral Singh had given her a very definite edge in the first planetary elections after Singh’s flight. Beside her, General Conrad Hampton was a short and wiry sparkplug, an appearance befitting a retired marine. Ed gave him a smile that said, very clearly, that they needed to catch up afterwards. He’d invited Hampton to stay on Avalon, after his flight from Greenway, but the older man had declined. Corinthian needed him.
“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” Ed said, as they sat down. “Time is short, so if you don’t mind we will skip the formalities and get straight down to business.”
Hampton smiled. “Glad to see that being a senior officer hasn't weakened you, Ed.”
Ed frowned as a maid entered, carrying a tray of coffee, then reminded himself that it was still early in the morning. He’d had the ships switched to local time as soon as they’d entered phase space, but he still felt the after-effects of interstellar lag. It just didn't feel like morning to him. But then, he had slept for seven solid hours after the squadron had dropped out of phase space.
“I try to remain blunt, where possible,” he said. He’d never had any patience for political games, even though he spent half of his time on Avalon doing nothing else. “I trust that won’t be a problem?”
Danielle smiled. “If you can be blunter than some of the people I have to deal with,” she said, “I will be very impressed.”
Ed nodded slowly and waited until the maid had finished pouring coffee before leaving the room. She was probably trustworthy - anyone working in the building would have been checked thoroughly before being granted a security clearance - but there was no point in taking chances. Suborning someone so close to the planetary leader - someone so lowly as to pass unnoticed - was every intelligence officer’s wet dream. A single spy in such a position could do a great deal of damage.
“The war has taken a turn against us,” he said, bluntly. There was no way to make the news good, no matter how he tried to phrase it. “This planet is likely to come under heavy attack within the next two months, probably sooner.”
Danielle studied him for a long moment. “Can you be sure?”
“No,” Ed said. “But Admiral Singh is currently in command of the enemy forces, unless some kindly soul assassinates her. She has the means, motive and opportunity to attack Corinthian as soon as possible. Our best guess is that you will be attacked in force within a month.”
He ran through a brief reprise of the strategic situation, watching them carefully. Danielle had learned to hide her feelings, he noted, but it was clear that she was appalled by the prospect of Admiral Singh returning to Corinthian. Hampton, by contrast, was obviously contemplating his contingency plans and wondering which one should be hastily updated and then put into practice. He, at least, would understand that Ed was trying to bait a trap, but what would he do with the knowledge? It would be hard to blame Danielle for not wanting to turn her homeworld into a combat zone ...
Again, he reminded himself. The people here know what will happen if Admiral Singh resumes control of the system.
“We believe we can make a stand here,” he concluded. “But it will require your cooperation.”
“Your plan would seem to hinge on fighting a brutal battle on the surface,” Danielle said. It was hard to read her emotions, but she didn't sound pleased. “Are you sure Admiral Singh will fall into the trap?”
“There’s no guarantee of anything,” Ed said. In truth, there were no guarantees that Admiral Singh had even realised she was being offered a chance to snatch Corinthian, no matter what the intelligence staff claimed. “But we believe she would be unwilling to let the chance slip past.”
“And you’re betting everything on an untested piece of technology,” Danielle added. “If the shield generator fails ...”
“The level of firepower they would need to break the shield would turn the planet’s surface into ash,” Ed said. There were so many redundancies built into the shield generator that even he was impressed. “Singh would have a very good reason to fight it out on the ground.”
Danielle met his eyes. “And if we refuse to cooperate?”
“Admiral Singh is going to try to retake this system,” Ed said, bluntly. “Corinthian is of vital importance - and she knows it. She’ll be sure to bring along enough firepower to take the system too, if we fight a conventional battle. The only way to hurt her, the only way to draw her into a trap, is to fight an unconventional engagement.”
“Which would devastate the planet,” Danielle pointed out.
“How badly would it be devastated,” Jasmine asked quietly, “if Admiral Singh retook control?”
Hampton scowled. “Very badly,” he said. “We’d lose everything.”
Danielle glanced at him, then looked at Ed. “What’s your plan?”
“Land troops and build defences, while evacuating trained manpower and their families,” Ed said. Cold logic insisted that trained manpower should come first, but common sense - and simple humanity - stated that their families had to be evacuated at the same time. “We set up the shield generator in place to cover Freedom City, then wait. When Admiral Singh arrives, she will have to land troops to secure the facilities she wants.”
“Unless she decides to merely secure the high orbitals and call it a draw,” Hampton pointed out.
“She cannot afford to lose,” Ed insisted. “Everything we know about Wolfbane indicates that the system is dangerously unstable. Admiral Singh will only remain on top as long as she seems victorious and unstoppable. A draw would ruin her image.”
Danielle frowned. “Conrad and I will need to discuss the matter,” she said, rising. “Please will you wait here? Call the maid” - she jabbed a finger towards the buzzer - “if you need more coffee.”
“Of course,” Ed said. “But time is not on our side.”
***
President Danielle Chambers had never really expected to be President. It had been enough of a surprise that Admiral Singh had left her alone, after the first resistance movement had been broken; she’d been reluctant to be dragged into the second, let alone remain involved in politics after Admiral Singh had fled. But Corinthian had been on a knife-edge since Admiral Singh’s defeat and she was one of the few remaining citizens who had served in both resistance movements. She’d run for office because none of the other candidates seemed more interested in the planet than their own personal power ...
And yet, part of her was still the scared woman who had withdrawn from the fight for the good of her children.
She swallowed hard, remembering the days when Admiral Singh’s soldiers had patrolled the streets, keeping a wary eye on the population. The scars the bitch had left behind ran deep, she knew all too well; the prospect of returning to those days was not one anyone would welcome. Indeed, she’d thrown so much money into the planetary defences purely to ensure that Singh could not return. But if Colonel Stalker was right, all their hard work was for nothing. Admiral Singh was about to return.
“General,” she said. She trusted Hampton rather more than she trusted some of her cabinet members. The man was reassuringly solid in the midst of chaos. “What do you make of it?”
“The logic is sound,” Hampton said, gravely. “We may need to check with Amir” - Admiral Melaka - “but as far as I can tell we will be gravely exposed as the Commonwealth’s defence lines contract.”
“They pledged to protect us,” Danielle said, without heat. She knew, all too well, that the Commonwealth was pushed to the limits. “Can we keep Singh from taking the high orbitals?”
“Probably not,” Hampton admitted. “Amir may think otherwise, but I suspect that a determined offensive will allow Admiral Singh to wipe the defences out before taking the high orbitals and forcing us to surrender. If, of course, we fight a conventional war.”
Danielle shuddered, inwardly. She knew what would happen if they surrendered. Admiral Singh would purge the planet of everyone involved in the government, from politicians such as herself to lowly civil servants, then start handing out the loot to her cronies. And this time, there would be no mercy for the families of the purged. Admiral Singh would kill her husband and children as surely as she’d kill Danielle herself. Everyone related to someone on the Admiral’s hit list would die.
And yet, the prospect of a long and brutal war on the surface was almost as horrifying.
She had no illusions. A long war on the same scale as Han would be utterly devastating to the planet. By the time it ended, if it did end, Freedom City would be in ruins, while the planet’s population would be sharply reduced. And it wasn't as if Corinthian had that many friends to help reconstruction. Admiral Singh, damn the bitch, had ensured that the nearby planets had good reason to refuse any help ...
And I didn't make it any easier, she thought. In hindsight, alienating several of her neighbours had probably been a mistake. They really don’t like us.
She looked at Hampton. “Can we win?”
“It gives us our best chance of hurting the bitch,” Hampton said, flatly. “The blunt truth, Madam President, is that if we surrender, we will face devastating losses anyway. She isn't going to be content to secure the high orbitals and move on, not with us. She’ll want us to support her forces as they press on towards Avalon.”
“And surrender means a purge anyway,” Danielle said. She rather doubted Admiral Singh would keep her word, if she pledged to spare lives in exchange for a hasty surrender. And even if she did, it would still be devastating for Corinthian. “So we have to fight.”
“It looks that way,” Hampton agreed. “But the cabinet won’t be pleased.”
Danielle shuddered. If she’d been able to choose her own cabinet ... but she hadn't. She'd had to take politicians from all over the political spectrum, from industrialists who would want to seek an accommodation to former resistance soldiers who would want to fight to the death. Hell, she’d worried about what would happen if Governor Brown had been in command of the force invading her space. He would be happy to bargain with the industrialists ...
And he would probably have kept his word too, she thought.
She turned and strode back into the conference room, Hampton following. “I will have to speak to the cabinet,” she said, “but I believe they will agree that we have to fight. However, I do have a condition. I want the evacuation broadened to take relatives of people who are likely to be purged, if Singh wins the war.”
“We need to put trained manpower first,” Stalker said. “But we can hide others around the planet, if necessary.”
“The cabinet will want guarantees,” Danielle said. How long did they have? A month? Two months? Or much less? “Their families will be at risk too.”
“We’ll add them to the list,” Stalker said. “But like I said, time is really not on our side.”
“It isn't on hers either,” Danielle said. Some of the industrialists had wanted to impose strict gun control, but it had found absolutely no political backing at all. The planet’s population would never be unarmed again. “Give us a few weeks and we will be ready to fight.”
And she hoped desperately that she was right.
Chapter Twelve
Unknown to that side, its western enemy was rallying - and the forces it had dispatched were caught in limbo, unable to do anything to assist its fellows to either west or east. By the time they reached their final destination, the matter was already decided.
- Professor Leo Caesius. The Role of Randomness In War.
Emmanuel Alves was no stranger to spaceports - he’d seen a dozen spaceports across the Commonwealth during his career - but he had to admit that the Freedom City Spaceport was easily the largest he’d seen, dwarfing anything on Avalon. Even the colossal military spaceport he’d visited on Lakshmibai was tiny in comparison. Hundreds of hangers for shuttlecraft, dozens of terminals to organise passengers and shuttlecraft taking off every five minutes ... he was relieved, despite himself, that he wasn't in charge of traffic control. It had to be an absolute nightmare.
He adjusted the camera on his shoulder as another Commonwealth shuttle landed, far too close to one of the terminals for comfort. The hatches sprang open a moment later, allowing a long line of soldiers to march out onto the tarmac, where they were greeted by military policemen who guided them towards one of the hangers. There, they’d be given a brief orientation and an introduction to the planet, then told to wait until the buses were ready to take them to the defence lines. He allowed the camera to pass over the soldiers - mostly young men, although there were a handful of young women too - and then turned and walked towards the nearest terminal. The guards eyed him sharply, then allowed him to pass through the doors and into the building.
It was chaotic. Emmanuel was no stranger to crowds, but the building was crammed with men, women and children. The latter were running around, arguing and shouting, while their parents were trying to maintain control or fight their own battles. None of them had expected to have to leave their homes, their friends, the lives they’d built for themselves, but there was no choice. Admiral Singh wouldn't hesitate to round up trained manpower and put it to use on her behalf. He panned the camera over the giant room, then zoomed in on a pretty teenage girl who was having a sulk. It was hard to be sure, but she seemed to be complaining about having to leave her pet behind.
Not that there would be room on the ships, Emmanuel thought, as he stepped to one side. A pair of officers were barking orders, rounding up the next set of evacuees. A pet would consume life support that would be better saved for more humans.
He smiled at the thought, then watched grimly as the officers fought to impose some order on the chaos. The older couples seemed to understand, save for a handful who bitched and moaned and wasted time. One woman in particular seemed insistent on suing everyone involved in the evacuation, even though it would be pointless. And, all the while, the children were running around, or crying, or fighting. The racket was deafening.
“STAY IN YOUR SEATS UNTIL CALLED,” someone bellowed. “YOU WILL BE CALLED WHEN THE TIME COMES.”
Emmanuel sighed and hurried through the exit, walking down to the terminal entrance. A line of guards stood there, checking IDs and baggage weights before allowing the new evacuees to enter the terminal. As he watched, a couple of bags were dumped in a waste trolley, despite protests from their owners. They'd been warned not to bring more than a single bag each, no matter what it was they couldn't bear to leave behind. There just wasn't the room on the shuttles to accommodate everything.
He took a handful of pictures, then nodded to the security guards as he walked outside. A long line of buses were waiting to be unloaded, their drivers looking frazzled. They’d be working under military command, Emmanuel recalled from the briefing; everyone who could drive a bus had been summoned to the colours and put to work assisting the evacuation. He rather doubted the drivers would get hazard pay, although they probably deserved it. He’d heard that a handful of fights had already been broken up by the gu
ards.
“Better stay out the way,” a harried-looking woman said. “You’ll get shipped off to Earth if you’re not careful.”
Emmanuel nodded and stepped backwards as another bus opened its doors, allowing a swarm of men, women and children to disembark. The guards stepped forwards, keeping their weapons clearly visible, and started to chivvy the civilians into inspection lanes. A tough-looking man waved his fists at the guards, but quietened down in a hurry as he found himself the target of several rifles. Emmanuel had never been keen on watching civilians pushed around by the military, but what else could the guards do? They had to keep order somehow.
“Hey,” a voice called. “You the reporter from Avalon?”
Emmanuel looked up. A young man, no older than himself, was standing there, wearing a press pass around his neck. “That’s me,” he said. “And you are?”
“Tad,” the reporter said. He held out a hand, which Emmanuel shook. “Corinthian News.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Emmanuel said. “I was hoping for a few interviews, but people seem to be rather busy.”
They Shall Not Pass (The Empire's Corps Book 12) Page 12
