by Adam Gaffen
Phalkon counted the ministries on her fingers. “War, Foreign, Security, and Production. One of those seems off.”
“Newling’s ministerial background is largely unimportant,” Jones replied. “Her asset is her name. The others brought some connections, which explains their value.”
“What do we know about their organization? I presume it’s not this Simon Jester thing.”
“No, although we’re in the process of gathering all the known members of Jester. Newling’s organization is much more well-defined and security-conscious than Jester ever was. I believe I’ve shared all the information we have about them with you already.”
Phalkon nodded. “Yes, you had. I was wondering if anything new had been uncovered, since they revealed themselves.”
“No. Right now our primary countermeasure is to cut off Tycho Under from all the other warrens by shutting down the tube system and denying entry to Artemis City. Unfortunately, the tubes can be locally controlled from Tycho, which has allowed them to move freely. HKL and New Sydney have both declared allegiance to Newling’s cabal, and at least three others have made tentative noises of acceptance. Armstrong is firmly in our camp, but they’re at the end of the tube system and are vulnerable to being isolated.”
“Minister Atkinson, what is the status of the fleet?”
“The six Gemini frigates, two Apollo cruisers, and two Scimitar dreadnoughts are all functional. The crews are undergoing loyalty checks, so they’re not available for any missions at this time. The Union ships, I’m not as certain of their status.”
Finally the Primus spoke.
“Become certain, Atkinson. You only gained your position because Minister Phalkon assured me of your loyalty.”
She paused and examined the sparse gathering. Vasilia Newling was ruthless when it came to expanding and protecting her power. Her family, Newling, was descended from one of the original four colonists. Those Four Families ruled Artemis, and by extension the Solarian Union. The past two years had been trying for her, though, waging a war against the upstart Terran Federation while dealing with traitors and perceived incompetence in her Ministers. Now, though, she finally had opportunity to act decisively to seal her legacy.
“Look around you, Ministers. Look at the empty spaces.”
Dutifully they did so.
“We have become weak. Complacent. Soft. It is proven by the ease with which the Federation has seduced our turncoat politicians. It is proven by the rabble which calls itself a revolution. It is proven by the actions which we are now forced to take.”
She paused, enjoying the confusion all around her, confusion everywhere except on Phalkon.
“President Whitmore has been executed.”
An involuntary gasp flashed across the room, quickly suppressed.
“His family, all of his extended family, has been arrested for treason against the Union. As soon as Minister Pitt can arrange their trials, they will join the former President.” She nodded to Danna, who nodded numbly back. “In addition, all members of the Dent family, having proven their treachery twice over, are being apprehended as we speak.”
“The Council of Ministers, and indeed the governments of Artemis and the Union, have been dissolved. You who are here represent the loyal core of the new, reborn Union.”
She waited a few seconds for the shock to pass before continuing.
“Aunt Daria, you are the new Councilor of the Treasury. Your new duties will also include the former Ministry of Production.”
Pitt managed to say, “Thank you, Vasilia.”
“Minister Pitt, your new position is Councilor of the People’s Justice,” Newling said to Danna Pitt.
“The People’s Justice?”
“Yes. We need to assure our citizens of our benevolent intentions toward them; what better way than to have a councillorship dedicated to nothing but their justice and well-being?”
“As you say, Primus.” Pitt was grateful to still have a position.
“Atkinson, you are now the Councilor for Defense.”
“Defense?”
“Defense. It was pointed out to me that having a ‘minister of war’ sounds aggressive. Your duties, though, will not change. You are charged with the protection of the Union.”
“Yes, Primus.”
“Kreitzer.”
“Cousin.”
“You are Councilor of Technology. You will also absorb the former Ministries of Energy and Transportation and integrate them into your councillorship.”
“Yes, Primus.”
“Jones. You are Councilor for Intelligence, which will encompass both Intelligence and Security, as well as Education.”
“Education, Primus?” he asked.
“Education,” answered Phalkon. “If we are to prevent any further attempts at revolution, we need a population which is thoroughly and reliably indoctrinated from as young an age as possible. Integration of these three arms will ensure this.”
“I see,” said Jones.
The Primus turned to Arnett. “Your position is Councilor for External Security. You will work closely with Jones and Atkinson.”
“Yes, Primus, of course.”
“Primus, what of Minister Phalkon?” Jones said now. “You seem to have given away all her positions.”
“Tal is to be First Councilor, and she will direct the Council in my absence and in my stead. She will be the visible face of the Union of Artemis. Her duties will also include all interactions, when necessary, with foreign governments.”
The Primus seemed surprised by the lack of further reaction and said, in a somewhat aggrieved voice, “Aren’t you pleased? We can finally cut away the dead weight which has dragged us down for all these years and achieve our rightful place as the rightful leaders of humanity!”
“What of the United Earth government? And the Federation?” asked Arnett.
“Phalkon will be meeting with all of you to inform you of your roles in our plan,” Newling said. “Rest assured, Councilors. Neither the UE nor the Federation will be any more of a problem than my poor, deluded cousin in Tycho Under for much longer.”
Nobody said anything for a long moment. Finally, Phalkon stood and broke the silence.
“All rise!”
Obediently the new Councilors stood.
“Hail the Empress, Vasilia the First! May the sun never set on the Union!”
A ragged echo swept the chamber as Newling strode from the room.
“You might want to practice that,” Phalkon said with just a hint of menace, following the Empress out.
CHAPTER THREE
UE Headquarters, Geneva, Switzerland
“You’re kidding.”
Mya Hartman, head of the Distribution Directorate and the most influential politician within the UE, glanced up at her assistant.
“Director?”
“Get me Lehman,” she said. “And Blackmon.”
The aide scurried from the office as Hartman re-read the document. She was jotting notes to herself when the door chime signaled.
“Enter,” she said, distracted.
Two men walked through, with the shorter, older one taking the lead. Both were professionally dressed, though the first man’s suit appeared to fit better.
“Director Hartman,” he said.
Hartman half-rose in greeting. “Mr. Lehman, thank you for taking time from your day. Hunter, good to see you. Please, sit, gentlemen.”
She returned to her note-taking briefly before looking up again with an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry, I simply had to write down that thought before it escaped me. William, I need your advice.”
“Certainly, Director. How can the UE’s legal department assist the Distribution Directorate?”
She passed the document across the desk. “What are our obligations?”
He pulled out an old-fashioned pair of spectacles and perused the letter. After a couple moments, he peered over the top edge.
“Is this real?”
“I would have to refresh my memory of the Artemis Accords and the associated agreements before I gave a definitive opinion,” he hedged.
“Yes, naturally.” She hid a smile. William Lehman was the General Counsel for the entire UE and was, in essence, a lawyer’s lawyer.
“To summarize, then: our obligations are, as far as I can recall, aligned with their requests.”
Hartman didn’t try to hide her shock.
“Are you serious?”
“As I said, I need to refresh my familiarity with the Accords. I may well be mistaken.”
“Supplies? Raw materials?” She snatched back the document and read from it. “’Material, logistical, and personnel support’?”
“The Union is an affiliate member of the UE,” Lehman said, settling comfortably into ‘lecturing lawyer’ mode. “While they are not directly bound by the UE regulations, and thus not entitled to the automatic support of the UE, where we have made mutual agreements with them we are so bound.”
“I can’t believe it.” Hartman pulled herself back together. “William, please. This is a priority. I need you to review the background and render a conclusive opinion, as quickly as possible. I’ll have a copy of the request sent over to you.”
Lehman stood. “I will start immediately, Director.”
With a quick nod he left her office, leaving Blackmon.
“Director, how can I help?”
“I need you to talk to their Foreign Minister, or whatever the new post is called, and find out what, exactly, they expect from this request.”
Hunter Blackmon’s position was Assistant Deputy Director in the Reconciliation Directorate, the UE’s equivalent of a Department of State or Foreign Ministry. Leading a mission to a foreign power, especially one which had been at least passively hostile and obstructionist for decades, was well outside his usual duties.
“Director, I, um, I don’t do that. It’s way above my pay grade. You probably ought to go to the Director, or at least her Deputy.”
She waved off his concerns.
“I will, but you’re perfect for the job. You are attentive to details. You know when to keep your mouth shut. They probably won’t have a dossier on you. And, best of all, you are too low-ranking for them to expect any actual agreement to come from this meeting. If the Director went, the Union would reasonably assume we’re ready to sign off on what they’re demanding. We send you, though, and they know they’re still waiting.”
Blackmon nodded. “I see. Very well, Director, I’ll depart as soon as I get approval.”
“Start packing. I’m going to talk to your Director now.”
Blackmon was up and out of the office in seconds, not running but moving quickly. As soon as he’d gone, Hartman poked her head out the door.
“Lizzie, no interruptions until I signal you.”
“Yes, Director.”
The door closed and Hartman calmly returned to her desk. She opened a drawer and keyed a sequence into a number pad which didn’t show on any official schematics. A background hum sprang into life then subsided. She keyed another sequence and the screens scattered around the room flickered and died, save the one at her desk. Only when the last pixel faded did she key a third sequence, bringing the monitor back to life.
After a moment the screen resolved to show an attractive short-haired blonde, wearing a bright white uniform with gold trim.
“Director Hartman,” she said formally.
“We’re secure,” Hartman said, and the change was instantaneous.
“Mya, what’s going on? I’ve been back in-system for less than an hour.”
“You’re going to love this, Kendra.”
“I doubt it. You’re not known for your good news.”
“We’ve been contacted by the Union.”
Kendra didn’t answer.
“Don’t you want to know why?”
“I figure you’ll tell me eventually, Mya.”
“They’ve invoked clauses in the Artemis Accords to call upon the UE to provide them with increased support during a, quote, ‘period of insurrection or insurgency,’ unquote.”
“And that means what, Mya?”
“From what they’re claiming, and I’m having our top legal counsel look into the accuracy, they can get increased raw materials, including food; weapons to suppress the insurgency; and direct military support.”
“What?”
“Like I said, we’re looking into this.”
“Military support? Oh, Zeus love a swan!” Kendra shook her head in disbelief and denial.
“And here we are, in bed with the Federation, which is actively supporting the very insurgency they want help to suppress,” Hartman said wryly.
“Oh, the irony isn’t lost on me,” Kendra said.
“Good, then you’ll love this. Apparently that little revolution and the poaching of Titan and the Miner’s Guild have allowed Newling to totally revamp the Union. She’s renamed it the ‘Union of Artemis’ and declared herself Empress, removing their Charter altogether.”
“Empress? Is she insane? No, don’t answer that, I have my own sources.”
“It gets better, Kendra.”
“Oh, I sincerely doubt you can top, what did she call herself?”
“Vasilia the First.”
“Right. That.”
“It just might,” said Hartman.
“Go ahead.”
“They’ve named you, your wife, Davie Whitmore, most of her staff, and all of your collective crews as ‘war criminals’ and ‘terrorists’ and have demanded your capture and extradition, or death. They don’t say as much but I think death is their preference.”
“Hmm. No, I think ‘Empress Vasilia the First’ still tops the steaming pile of crap you just handed me. Seriously, Mya, how legit is all this?”
“On the surface, they’re playing by the rules. Our rules, which means that the General Secretary is going to be inclined to agree to it.”
“Frak me running.”
“I think I agree,” said Mya.
“What’s the timetable?”
“Well, as I said, I’m having our legal experts look this over. That will take some time, at least a few days. And I’ve sent Blackmon, from the Reconciliation Directorate, to the Union to stall some more. I can maybe buy a couple weeks, Kendra. That’s about all.”
“Don’t do anything that will expose your interest in all this.”
“You think maybe I was born yesterday? All of that is shredded, burned, buried, and recycled.”
‘I should have guessed. Thank you, Mya. I know it was a risk, reaching out.”
“You’re welcome. Now I’ve got to get back to figuring out how to throw a monkey wrench into this little love grenade the Union’s tossed to us.”
“And I need to figure out just how to pay them back.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Habitat Njord
“Commander? Aren’t you on your honeymoon?”
Commander Daniela Garcia-Kay stopped filling her coffee cup and to stare at the questioner.
“Ma’am,” she belatedly appended.
“Better, Rat,” Garcia-Kay said, finishing the pour. “And for your information, yes, I am, but I need to stay sharp.”
She added, in a much more conversational tone, “Boomer’s been after me as well. He says that he’s still trying to integrate with his new body and I should be flying him, so...”
Rat, Ensign (JG) Judith Bastin, grinned. The Epsilon-class AI’s installed in the Direwolf fighters could be nearly human in their personalities, if encouraged by their human counterparts. A good number of the pilots of Nymeria Squadron did so, reaping the benefits of the enhanced partnership, taking after the lead of their commander.
Daniela, as the first Direwolf pilot, had led the way. She’d investigated the interests the Admiral had in 20
th/21st century ‘television’ and ‘movies’, eventually arriving at ‘Boomer’ as a good name for her AI. As a result, his personality tended to be cool, calculating, and confident, with a special knack for engineering his way around problems. His level-headedness complemented Daniela’s more aggressive flying style.
“I heard they salvaged your chair,” Rat said.
“They did,” agreed Daniela. “That was about all, though.”
Her face clouded briefly at the memory. Her prior Direwolf had been ruined by a mid-space collision with another fighter during an exercise in which the other pilot had lost her life. It was the first non-action casualty the squadron had faced and it still stung.
Rat picked up on her discomfort and tried to change the subject. “How’s Boomer doing? Does he like the new ship?”
“He appreciates the new capabilities, but keeps sending me messages about how things just aren’t quite ‘right’ with it. Which is why I’m here at oh six hundred instead of in bed with my husband,” she finished, raising her mug.
“Aye, ma’am,” said Rat, raising her half-empty mug in mock salute. “Do you need a wing? I’m scheduled for the mid-watch CAP, but I have a couple hours.”
“Thanks, Rat, I’m covered. Locksmith is going out with me.”
Rat nodded. Locksmith was the XO of the second Direwolf squadron under Lt. Commander Ashlyn Bontrager. Red Squadron was officially assigned to the TFS Endeavour, but only half the fighters could fit aboard at any one time for away missions if there would be a couple of the older Wolves attached for the duration. The other half remained at Njord and did drills until the Endeavour returned.
“Catch you later, Double Dip,” Rat said and strolled out.
She had to smile. For all that Starfleet was a military organization, the formality and rigidity which plagued longer-established militaries simply didn’t exist. Given the preferences of the Admiral, it probably never would.
