by Daniel Gibbs
"Alright, everyone, we know what's up. I'm going to discuss this with the other captains. I trust you'll get everything in order."
Despite their apparent uncertainty, there were no protests. He was answered by nodding heads and pursed lips. The Shadow Wolf crew was in this together, to the end.
Oskar left the meeting and returned immediately to his infirmary. Because of its smaller size in the fleet, it wasn't being used for remaining casualties, so there was only one patient. Cristina Caetano was lying on one of the beds. Wound-care bandaging covered her injuries and nearby monitors showed an active heartbeat and normal brain activity. Her stable condition was, in fact, the only reason Oskar attended the meeting in the rec room.
"You seem concerned," Caetano said.
"We’re going to be in danger in a few days, but nothing immediate," Oskar said.
"Please tell me, then, what's going on?"
Oskar wasn't sure he should. Stressing his patient out unnecessarily was not good medicine. But he knew she'd not rest until an explanation was given. He sighed and went over what happened.
"João." Her voice was tense with fury. "He was playing us all. I should… I should have realized it. His ambition always seemed to be the usual kind I found in the party ranks."
"Which undoubtedly made it easier for him to hide," Oskar observed. He noted the fury in her expression turning toward what he suspected was despair. "We can still stop them."
"I should have known," she insisted. "I should’ve seen it." Tears formed in her eyes. She looked like she was about to break down completely. "I was trying to save my people from dictatorship, and here I am, forced to confront the fact that I may have doomed them to it. Even if we stop them, it won't be my doing."
"Won't it?" Oskar raised an eyebrow at her. "You got us off Lusitania. You helped form our fleet. On the station, you nearly died helping to get the information we needed." A thought came to Oskar. He nodded. "Ahh, I see."
"What?"
"That was what you wanted," he said. "To die. You didn't expect to survive on the station."
"I didn't care if I did or not," she said. "Cristina Caetano must be dead. For the good of my people, my world."
"But you're not her. She was a creation."
"For her to remain dead, I can't go back home." Caetano closed her eyes. Tears still flowed from them. "I'll never be able to go home. If I did and people realized who I was—"
"There are cosmetic procedures—"
"They don't change DNA," Cristina pointed out.
"True." Oskar slid onto the nearest bed and sat there, looking over at his patient. "Even if you are right, and you must remain an exile like me, that's not the end of your world. I do miss my own home, and I would love to return one day to see it. But I can find home, purpose, out here as well. So can you."
She didn't respond. Oskar didn't expect her to. It was all still fresh for her. It would take her time. Just as it had him.
Henry met with Piotr Tokarev and Commodore Dulaney in the captured command center of the League base. The privateers were nearly done stripping the place clean. "This place is trashed enough that there's little point destroying it," Dulaney said. The look on his face made Henry think of Colonel Goldstein after a hard-fought battle with extensive casualties. Fatigue, grief, and relief were all visible on his expression.
Piotr said something, and Miri quickly offered a translation. "The Morozova and her ships will use energy weapons to cripple what's left of the base. No one will bother trying to use it again."
"If that's what they want to do. What I'm more interested in is what you've found out from their computers."
Henry and Miri filled them in. Piotr gave them a determined look and nodded, along with a stream of Russian. Miri was quick to translate the answer. "He'll continue with the fight. His squadron will jump for Lusitania immediately."
Dulaney seemed to be mulling it over. "At least ten of the captains still with us are done," he said. "Some of the others are still repairing from the EMP weapon."
"They'll have time to finish replacing their fuses on the trip to Lusitania," said Henry. "But we need to be leaving soon. They're already a jump ahead of us, and we'll need at least one double jump to get in position on time. Maybe two now."
He couldn't tell if he'd persuaded Dulaney or not. It would be a waste just to let things go. On the other hand, he could recognize the powerful sway of seeing the recovery of the lost crews, and the evidence against the League, as arguing against the necessity of another action. Henry had a small doubt himself about it. Seeing that more persuasion was necessary, he continued speaking. "Problem is the Coalition has a long history with the neutral worlds, and it hasn't always been pretty. The League will lie its ass off trying to discredit the witnesses and the evidence, and it'll confuse things. And if they take over Lusitania, they'll have Vitorino or Carvalho backing them, using Lusitania's economic and political influence to manipulate other worlds onto their side. For all of our sakes, we need to be sure we stopped them."
Dulaney's face twisted into a small smile. "Alright, Captain, your points are made. I'll commit my ships too and encourage the others. Hopefully, enough will decide to stick it out. The ones that don't, I'll send the witnesses back with. I'm sure I can talk enough of them into that."
"I'll leave you to it, then," Henry said.
Two hours later, the Shadow Wolf departed the wrecked League station called Pluto Base. Forty-one ships joined her, led by the Morozova and Mad Hatter. A second group burned away on a slightly different vector, bound for New Aragon to drop off the rescued crews and provide authorities the data from the League.
Behind them, Pluto Base shuddered as repeated weapons fire, all directed energy, blew through the base's structure. While the superstructure remained, it would be a derelict ruin, useful only as salvage for raw alloy.
Henry didn't care to see the station again. He wanted it over with. The League would already be after them for this. If they successfully gained inroads to Neutral Space by making their plan work, his ship and crew would be driven far from familiar spaces. As much as he talked about making for the Jewel Box if necessary, he'd rather not have to make the attempt..
"So out of one frying pan and into another?" asked Piper.
"Probably," Henry mused.
"Good cause, though." That came from Vidia, standing in the rear. "I hear that some o' the people that fought us, they were from the stolen ships. The League broke them in the station's Socialization camp, made them turn."
"They were held long enough to be broken." Like Vidia, Miri was present at the rear of the bridge. "I can believe that."
"I didn't want this fight; you all know that," Henry said. "But we've got it now, and I won't lie and say I don't consider the League a threat worth fighting."
Tia nodded quietly. "Yeah." Henry and the others saw the haunted look on her face. She'd seen the people from the stolen ships and she'd heard what they suffered. It had its effect on her. "I'm proud we got them out."
As they approached the Lawrence limit, Henry keyed the intercom to Engineering. "Pieter, we ready for that first double jump?"
"Everything's ready. We should be able to manage it without blowin' up anything. But we'll need the proper cooldown period afterward."
"We'll get it. Henry out." His inquiry satisfied, Henry leaned back in his chair. "Execute the double jump when ready, Cera."
"Aye, sir," came her answer.
24
Gamavilla
Lusitania, Independent System, Neutral Space
30 August 2560
From his suite in the Royal Lusitanian, Duarte Vitorino waited. This was the day it would all come together, planned as it had been for many months via careful hand-written exchanges with Hartford through Li and various other couriers. His plans for the future depended on everything going off without a hitch.
He had reason to be nervous, even if those reasons played into the plan. His careful prodding of the various Democratic
parties had worked. They'd put their remaining differences aside and were urging, jointly, for an end to martial law. Today, a significant protest was scheduled to move through the city, including the Rua de Republica itself. It was excellent timing for what he wanted to do.
Of course, it was also dangerous. If things tipped a little too far, and word had leaked he was here, then he might face an angry mob too large for his guards to disperse.
Vitorino dismissed the idea from his mind. That was only a minor worry. The truth was he was still concerned with what Captain Henry was doing. He believed it more likely the good captain was halfway to Omega by now, but there was always the chance he might have hewed to the side of his character that still believed in the values of the Coalition. The honorable part of him still exists, even if Henry tries to play the independent spacer interested only in money. He could see it whenever the instinctive shame showed in Henry's eyes. If Miri Gaon managed to link up with him… it would be a disaster.
No, not just Gaon. The real threat was that code he'd used to launch without difficulty. The one that came from Caetano. Her body was believed destroyed in the explosions, as had the corpses of many of the Cabinet, but Vitorino was starting to wonder. If she was alive, she could pose a grave threat to everything. But how could she have survived the bombing?
"Ah, I am getting paranoid," he said aloud, mostly to hear himself say it.
"Prime Minister, sir?"
Vitorino turned to see Carvalho looking at him with concern. "Nothing, nothing at all. I’m merely letting my worries fester." He checked his digital assistant for the time. "They should be here any minute. Do we have the feed to the system defense monitors?"
"We do." Carvalho picked up a control from the table in the middle of the room. A holo-projector built into the ceiling projected a flat image over the curtained windows. "You'll know when it's time."
"The signal?"
"Ready. As soon as the fleet is in range, it gets shut down."
"Hrm." Vitorino went over to his bar and retrieved a wine glass. He pulled out an opened bottle of Cunhal Port, the same port he often plied to customs agents and other officials he was paying off. With one application of his cork-remover, he opened the bottle and poured himself a glass. He sniffed at it to enjoy the aroma before taking a small drink of the sweet, fortified wine. "I wonder if their port tastes different?" he asked aloud.
"Sir?" Carvalho looked at him.
Vitorino tapped his finger on the bottle. "The port. It comes from our ancestral homeland on Earth, the lower reaches of the Douro River within what was northern Portugal. This wine comes from vineyards along the river in question. Since the river terminates at the city of Porto, or 'O Porto' as our ancestors called it, the wine was given the same name." He smiled at seeing Carvalho's uncaring expression. "Centuries ago, samples of the grapes used in the valley were brought to Lusitania with the colony ships. The middle reaches of the Cunhal Valley, over on the continent of Beja, emulate the microclimate of the Douro Valley. Not exactly, but enough that it was chosen as the site to attempt to recreate this wonderful dessert wine. Have you ever had any?"
"I don't believe so, sir. In my defense, drinking was frowned on in the PdDN."
"Ah. Yes, Miss Caetano could be rather spartan, couldn't she?" Vitorino took another drink. "I wonder, when this is over, if I might be permitted to send a trade mission to Earth itself to acquire Earth-made port. I'm told the League does allow certain luxuries of cultural significance to be produced, and certainly port counts. It would be fascinating to discover how the two are different."
Vitorino might have gone on, but he was stopped by sudden flashes on the display. Ships were arriving at the extent of the jump zone. Quite a few of them. He walked over to his chair and counted. He narrowed his eyes. "Almost half of the fleet is missing.”
"Still enough to make this work, Prime Minister," Carvalho assured him. "Look, an incoming audio transmission. I'll play it." He said those things with a slight grin. Both men already knew the substance.
"People of Lusitania, we of the Lusitanian Democratic Army have come to liberate you from the authoritarian corruption of the Estado Novo," proclaimed a male voice in fairly good Portuguese. "While we defeat their fleets, you can rise up against your oppressors! For God, freedom, and democracy!"
The signal cut. Vitorino blanched. "I believe that exhortation was rather unnecessary," he said.
"They need to sound like Coalition-backed militants, sir."
"I've spoken to Coalition diplomats and listened to their prattlings about democratic legitimacy, Carvalho. That's not how they sound."
"Respectfully, sir, militants wouldn't sound the same way."
Vitorino decided not to continue the argument there. Instead, he watched and listened, as the Lusitanian Navy sortied to stop the ragtag fleet. The disparity made the League operatives look foolish for pressing forward. Even without the old foreign-built dreadnought Beja, the Navy still had three cruisers, ten destroyers, and twenty frigates of varying size. There were also the system defense corvettes and cutters. Their technology wasn't up to the best of the Coalition or even League, but against such ragtag vessels, that wouldn't matter. It made the situation laughable. And that would reinforce the sentiment of internal treachery, one that would let Vitorino wield the powers of the State to purge potential rivals, especially any in the military.
"The fleet is forming up." Carvalho stated. The icons for the Lusitanian military vessels showed they were coming at the invasion force from multiple vectors. "For maximum effect, they'll link up before they engage the incoming fleet."
"Ah, good." Vitorino smiled. "Give the usual statements about resisting treason to the State, and order the RSS to begin arresting all known members of the democratic parties."
"Even Ascaro and al-Amin?"
Vitorino smiled at him. "Temporarily for my dear colleagues. To ensure they aren't involved in this unconscionable attempt to overthrow their own government."
Carvalho chuckled. That "temporarily" would quickly become permanent if they needed it to. "Of course." He tapped at the device to finish the order. "Message sent, sir."
"Then we have a few hours to relax in." Vitorino reclined in his chair. "Perhaps we should watch a holovid."
In the Hotel Duro, the day began with more dread and continued with the same. With each passing day, Ascaro found it harder to focus on her job. Given the position was overseeing the operations of four government ministries that helped observe and direct the Lusitanian economy, this was not a good thing. But it couldn't be helped. The information slipped to her by President Vargas' Chief of Staff, el-Kabir, incriminated Vitorino in the Assembly bombing, and shook her to the very core.
What was Vitorino's game? Ascaro was having trouble squaring what she knew of him—a corrupt man only interested in fine wine and expanding his business interests—with the kind of attitude and calculation necessary for such cold-blooded mass murder. This sounded more like something Caetano would've done.
What am I to do with this? she repeatedly asked herself. She couldn't give it to the police. Even if the street-level police were honest and not in his pocket, their bosses ultimately answered to Vitorino and the officials in the Home Ministry, a ministry Caetano had packed with her people. They'd undoubtedly reveal what she'd done, and since Vitorino controlled the armed branches of the government, she was helpless to oppose him.
Was she that helpless? While she had very little in the way of armed personnel—just the armed field agents of the Finance Ministry's Revenue Office, since they were considered law enforcement—she had the economic ministries. Those had a power of its own. Bankers, business owners, stockholders, labor organizers—she was expanding connections with all of them due to her position. Some of them were friends from before that, quiet donors or patrons of the democratic parties.
So she sent some quiet messages, ones the RSS couldn't find at all harmful, but if read the right way by those people, would at least prepare things f
or her. With time, she could gain the leverage she needed against Vitorino and undermine his control of the government's armed branches. She would bring him and any who conspired with him to justice.
And then, much to her horror, she ran out of time.
The message from the incoming fleet played over the holovid. With it, Ascaro could hear the death knell of what remained of Lusitanian democracy and everything she wanted to achieve. Even her first reaction was to wonder which foolish radicals had decided to precipitate things.
Only after careful consideration did she understand what was happening. It was all a cruel joke. Vitorino never intended to fairly share power or step down. This fleet, wherever it came from, was calculated to destroy her and the democratic parties.
With that understanding, Ascaro tried to think of how she might counter them. Whoever these people were, they were not going to defeat the Lusitanian fleet. It was one of the strongest single-system navies in Neutral Space. Its technology was leading edge for the independent worlds. And, most importantly, Vitorino would never allow them to win. Either they were working for him or they were tricked by him. They would lose in a way that best benefited him.
She attempted to call al-Amin and the other ministers. Domingues didn't answer. She turned to al-Amin and was about to open the line, when the door swung open. Four black-clad RSS agents stepped in, with Palmeiro behind them. "Paulina Ascaro, under the authority of the Prime Minister, you are under arrest," Palmeiro announced quietly.
Ascaro said nothing, and didn’t move, for there was nothing she could do. Vitorino's trap had slammed shut, and she was inside it.
Their double jump had the privateer fleet in a familiar place to Henry: TR-778. There was no worry of an ambush this time. Just what they were about to do.
