by Daniel Gibbs
Ascaro immediately recognized the ramifications. The strange Q-ship fleet, claiming to be here to foment a democratic rebellion but apparently part of the League, and now knowing there was a League force within a jump. Vitorino, you fool, what have you done? The League will take us over the moment you give them the opening! How could you be so hungry for power!
"I would feel more comfortable if we had the military or police on our side," al-Amin remarked from beside her. A physician of the University had already healed her wound with his first aid equipment.
"I’d prefer both," Ascaro said.
A commotion started roiling the crowd, and not just from these fresh recordings. Ascaro stared out at the crowd to see a growing wave of dark-suited security troopers with BDU-clad soldiers and uniformed police with them.
"You should flee," one of the University leaders whispered. "Slip away."
"They know I'm here. They'll be ready for me to try." Ascaro swallowed and stirred up her courage, not so desperate as it'd been in the prisoner transport. "No, I must act now. For our people." She strode forward, making her way through the crowds, a host of respectable citizens behind her. Each was risking their livelihoods, their liberty, indeed their lives by standing with her, but they remained at her side. She might have bitterly wondered where they were in the past, when she'd tried and failed to restrain the Government's slide to dictatorship, but for the moment, there were no such thoughts; they were here now, and that was the critical part.
Finally, the two groups met. Immediately, she could see the police and military personnel were not comfortable. Soldiers and police officers exchanged glances with one another, while glum facial expressions were held by most. But the RSS was in charge of internal matters, and disobedience would be dangerous.
As for the black-clad men and women, they were not her friends. Most of the RSS were entirely given over to the idea of the Estado Novo, and believed the concept of democracy was a weakness that endangered the nation. Some, like Palmeiro, were willing to look past their differences, but she knew most wouldn't. Especially not the one in the lead.
"I am Inspector João Travada," he said aloud. "Paulina Ascaro, Saniyya al-Amin, you are under arrest for treason against the State."
Ascaro recognized him. He was Director Travada's nephew and known to be a creature of the late, unlamented Cristina Caetano. "The only treason committed this day is by those working with the League," she replied. "Surely you're not so dogmatic to ignore the evidence?"
"Evidence dispatched by Coalition operatives, no doubt, to confuse and befuddle our response." Travada’s mouth curled up into a grin. “We’re not deceived.”
"That makes no logical sense," she charged. "All they've done is ensure no democrat will bother rising to support this supposed fleet of ours. We're content to see where the situation takes us, but only if you leave us alone."
Travada responded by motioning to his personnel, who lifted their weapons. "Everyone here is under arrest. Resist, and you will be fired upon."
Some in the crowd flinched back, facing mortality as they were. But it wasn't the first time that night Ascaro had done so. She held her ground. "Then fire. Murder your fellow Lusitanians for standing up for their rights and their nation," she challenged. "Be a dupe for our enemies."
"You are our enemy," Travada hissed angrily. "You and all so-called 'democrats'; anyone who's prostituted themselves to the Coalition!"
"You can say that, even as a hostile fleet moves in our system and our betrayed forces are helpless to resist? Today is not about being democrats or nationalists or socialists, or about whether our ancestors were Portuguese or Moroccan or Basque, it's about being Lusitanians," Ascaro insisted. "Our independence is at stake!"
Travada reached ahead and grabbed her forearm. She pulled back, and some of those with her surged forward to help her. His people went to stop them.
Before the fight could begin in earnest, a large man stepped between them. His beard and appearance suggested he was Moroccan, and his uniform was that of a military officer, an Army man. He grabbed Travada and pulled him away.
"What are you doing?" Travada shouted as his eyes darted from side to side like a caged animal.
"Preventing you from making this worse," the officer said. He turned his brown eyes to Ascaro. "I am Colonel Hussein al-Jabar of the Capital Defense Regiment, ma'am. I believe you're right. We will stand with you."
"As will we." The strong female voice saw the arrival of a large woman, middle-aged. Ascaro recognized her as Deputy Chief Fernandes of the Gamavilla police.
"Traitors," Travada said. "You're both traitors. Enemies of the State!" He turned to his personnel, ready to order them to fight, but it was clear to all their position was untenable. The police and military had them dead to rights. A cheer was already rising from the assembled.
"Inspector, until such a time as this matter is settled, I must insist on your disarmament," al-Jabar said. "For the sake of order in the capital."
Travada looked over his people for several long, tense seconds. If they fought, they might yet do a lot of damage, and Ascaro imagined each was ready to kill those they felt to be traitors.
Whether it was doubts or simple recognition of their situation, the RSS personnel dropped their weapons. Travada did so as well. "When this situation is clear, and the Prime Minister restores control, you’ll live to regret this," he said to them.
Deputy Chief Fernandes and her police saw to their removal from the scene.
Ascaro breathed a small sigh of relief. But only a small one. The situation was only going to get worse. "Colonel, has anyone discussed this with Vitorino? The Prime Minister may be a corrupt bastard, but his corruption was always in business and trade. This is rather aggressive for him. Either he knows something we don't or—"
"All I know is his last reported location," the Colonel answered.
"If I could see him, maybe I could speak with him, reason—"
At that point, Palmeiro stepped out from the crowd. "President Vargas wishes to speak to you," she said to Ascaro.
"Of course," she replied.
For Commander Aristide, the passing time quickly confirmed her worst fears. The operation was fatally compromised. Probably by the attack on Pluto Base. Zervakos' squadron's failure to arrive solidified their failure.
Her options were limited. She had no doubt they might yet beat the privateers burning toward the Q-ships. But what could she do then? She had no armies to demand Lusitania's capitulation. Destroying their fleet gave her no advantage in that regard. All she could do was sit in-system and wait for developments, and that would be done with increasing difficulty and to no benefit.
It was a deep, bitter taste to her. In all of her internal operations, she'd never known defeat. She'd crushed rebellions and resistance forces with brutal efficiency throughout her career. Now here, in the most significant mission she'd ever been called upon to aid, her work was for nothing. The entire thing was a waste. The sacrifices at Pluto Base were in vain.
It was with bitter, white-hot anger that she finally relented to the inevitable. "The operation is a failure," she said aloud. Seeing the worried glances between crewmembers, she added, "You have all done your Social duty," to reassure them. "It was not your actions that led to our failure. The Committee of Social and Public Safety will recognize your innocence on that count."
"Then what shall we do, Commander Aristide?" asked Commander Ivan Neworth, the ship's official captain.
"Order the fleet to withdraw to the jump zone, away from the privateer forces. Astrogation, by the time we arrive at the limit, have a course back to League space ready."
"Aye aye, sir," came the replies.
Aristide almost left it at that, but her eyes passed over the new arrival. She recognized the ship in question: the Shadow Wolf. The vessel had undermined the operation from the moment they became involved. As the Q-ship fleet turned away from Lusitania, she addressed her communications officer. "Lieutenant, open a cha
nnel to this civilian vessel." She used a tap of the holotank to relay the information to the station in question.
"Hailing. They're accepting."
"Put them on the main viewer."
On the Shadow Wolf bridge, Piper did the same. This allowed Henry and everyone else on the bridge—which now included Yanik, Vidia, Felix, and Oskar—to face the image that appeared. The woman in question had a cold demeanor, with skin the same dark tone as Henry's own, and her uniform similar to Li's. "James Henry of the Shadow Wolf?"
She’s with League External Security. "That'd be me," Henry replied. "And you are?"
"My name is unimportant." Her nostrils flared. "How and why you get involved in this matter is not my concern. Only the fact of your interference is. James Henry, crew of the Shadow Wolf, by your actions, you have harmed the Socialization of the Sagittarius Arm and therefore declared yourselves as enemies of the League of Sol. Know that your role in this operation will become known to my government, and we will respond accordingly. I look forward to learning of your termination." She made a hand signal, and the channel cut out.
After a moment, Henry glanced at Piper. "They're not coming this way, are they?"
"Nope. They're burning toward the system nadir."
He let out a breath. "Well, that's a relief." Henry chuckled. "Never thought I'd get to see the backsides of a League fleet again."
"Always a fun sight." Felix laughed as well, a sound that hadn’t been heard on the Shadow Wolf for some time.
"So I'm guessin' we won't be goin' back t' New Hathwell any time soon?" Cera asked.
"Definitely not," Henry said. "It was pretty nice of her to warn us they'll be gunning for us, wasn't it?"
"Yeah." Tia nodded. Her voice betrayed her worry. "We're going to have to watch our backs carefully now."
"When have we not?" Yanik asked, as if the idea he wasn't already doing so was ridiculous.
"It's going to complicate our work, that's for sure," Henry remarked. "But we'll live. The important thing is the League'll have other things to worry about than just hunting us down. Right now, I'm more worried about what's happening planetside."
"Still no further word about things. Planetary comm network is still down, save a few signals. Probably old radio or encrypted government links."
"Keep burning for the rest of the fleet. I'm sure the Lusitanian military will be happy for our help, whatever Carvalho says about it." Henry settled into his command chair and waited to see how things played out.
The sight of the League Q-ships burning away broke João Carvalho. With increasing desperation, he attempted to get Aristide on comms, but she ignored him. Instead, she was abandoning him. With the fleet departing, the plan was ruined.
Not just the plan, but his dreams of the future, of the glory of being the Lusitanian who undid the crime of his forebearers and brought the unity of Society to his fractious, corrupt planet. It was all gone now. The victorious foes of his ideology would give him a trial and pronounce him a traitor. The movement toward Society would be crushed, set back ages. There would be no second blow against the Terran Coalition to capitalize upon Seville's attack.
For a time, Carvalho just sat there, staring at the dead face of Duarte Vitorino. He'd worked so hard, ingratiated himself with Vitorino and then Caetano so much, and it was for nothing. As if the universe itself had decided to pluck his victory away at the last moment and condemn him to humiliation instead of the glories he'd sought.
It wasn't right. It couldn't end like this. It shouldn't end like this. He deserved better!
In his ruminations, he ignored the increasing messages on his tablet, even as their pace quickened frantically. When he was jolted from his thoughts, it wasn't by the tablet's incessant tones, it was by a solid knock on the door. He glanced up and then stood, eyes fixed on it, wondering what was next.
The door swung open. Armed personnel entered, accompanied by a half dozen people. He recognized Colonel al-Jabar, Deputy Chief Fernandes, even Director Travada was present and very pale, as was the head of the security detachment overseeing the Royal Lusitanian.
At the center of the group was Paulina Ascaro. Her presence disgusted him, and now he no longer needed to hide it. To him, she was a tool of the Terran Coalition, a retrograde who clung to the past.
Her eyes took in the room, and her nose curled as the smell came; indeed, all of them showed visceral reactions to the scent of loosened bowels from the corpse of Vitorino. "My God, what have you done?" Ascaro asked.
"I do not answer to you," he said. "I’m in charge here."
"Actually, you do, and I am," Ascaro replied. "By request of President Vargas, I am now Prime Minister of Lusitania."
Carvalho snarled. "You?" He glared at Director Travada. "And you allowed this?"
"The President's authority under the Estado Novo is clear. While I disagree with his choice, I am bound to obey." Travada's eyes fixed on Vitorino. "What have you done, Carvalho?"
"What was needed. What was necessary. I would have undone four hundred years of error, given our people a new beginning." Carvalho shook his head. "You’ll ruin us all."
Ascaro’s mouth was still agape. "Arrest this man. He is a murderer and a traitor."
Carvalho's fate was sealed. But he had one chance to strike a blow. I can give my people a chance. His hand reached for the x-ray pistol hidden under his clothes and raised it toward Ascaro. He only needed a second.
But he didn't get it. Even as al-Jabar, Fernandes, and Travada all threw themselves between Carvalho and Ascaro, the armed security people that had answered to him just an hour before raised their weapons. They showed no hesitation in pulling the trigger. Energy pulses slammed into his body. The result was nearly instant: the incineration of most of his internal organs. Pain filled Carvalho as his legs failed, and he dropped, his pistol falling free from his hand as he did.
It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair, went through his mind over and over, until there was nothing else.
Once the shooting was over, Ascaro looked at the bodies of the slain men, as well as the display still showing before the curtains. Her eyes found Carvalho's discarded digital tablet. "I want that examined," she said, speaking to both Travada and Fernandes.
"It will be done, Prime Minister," Travada assured her. She could tell he was still reeling at her appointment. He was a man committed to the Estado Novo, and her, its harshest critic. He’d already made clear he wasn’t happy that the President had given official sanction to Camila Palmeiro and her team for acting against orders. But duty was duty, and if that were not enough, his nephew João was currently at Fernandes' headquarters under armed police guard.
"There is still the matter of the independent vessels burning in," al-Jabar remarked. "Some of them are known pirates and have warrants outstanding."
"Perhaps. But they have done a service for Lusitania today, Colonel, so I’m prepared to suspend those warrants for the time being. Wouldn't you agree?"
He nodded. "Yes. The circumstances justify it."
Ascaro sighed. She had her questions about them and so many more besides. Today's occurrences were going to make the next few weeks grueling, and she still had to see to forming a Cabinet from what was left of the Assembly and the various parties, plus the elections the President was required to call. She was already planning on insisting on constitutional reforms. Dismantling the Estado Novo would take time and effort, but with everything that happened today, maybe it was finally possible.
First things first, however. The stench in the suite was horrid. She had to get somewhere she could breathe.
29
It is the nature of crises to thwart smooth storytelling. The exciting bits came and went, the survivors breathed in relief, and then everyone gradually returned to a daily norm. Those norms changed sometimes, certainly. But even if it was a new normal, it was normal. There was no excitement of grand battles and speeches, just everyday activities. Chores, seeing to one's needs, and finding ways to surviv
e what life was throwing at you now that it was done trying to kill you.
This held for the crew of the Shadow Wolf as much as it did for everyone else. The new normal was unmistakable—the League of Sol wanted to kill them all now, after all. With all of the shooting over, now came the routine issues: fixing the ship, keeping it flying, considering budgets, wondering—and worrying—about new jobs to keep things going. In other words, the usual.
Well, mostly.
A couple of days passed, during which Henry's energies were entirely directed to fixing his ship at Cardoso Station, sleeping, worrying about his dwindling accounts, and more sleeping. He was now escorted by armed soldiers of the Lusitanian Capital Guards Regiment to the audience he, Dulaney, and the Tokarevs were called to. It was not company he'd typically consider keeping. But circumstances had changed, especially if one were trying to thwart a year-long carefully-laid conspiracy.
The four men strode into a meeting room where a long table awaited them. Visible pitchers full of what Henry figured were coffee and tea awaited them. Two seats were already taken. President Emiliano Vargas sat in one, his balding head circled by silver hair and a beard of the same color over his chin. Beside him, Paulina Ascaro wore a dark blue business dress combination with a pin on her lapel of the green, red, and white tricolor of Lusitania. A younger woman was off to her side while, beside Vargas, an Arab man was watching patiently in his business suit. "Gentlemen," she said in accented English. "Thank you for your punctuality."
"Prime Minister." Dulaney nodded with respect. The Tokarevs and Henry followed suit. "President."
Vargas acknowledged him with a simple nod but said nothing.
"Gentlemen, your service to Lusitania is recognized by the government, and we extend our thanks. By your actions, you thwarted a serious danger to our continued independence. With the permission of the President, I have issued pardons to all of those in your fleet who had standing charges in our court system. They are free to land." Ascaro smiled as she finished her statement.
