In the meantime, the Adventure would go out with a slapped-together crew and make a maiden raid to steal some chickens, just to break her in. She would be the largest ship of the Tanith fleet until the Defender was ready, and the most impressive – losing her had been a grievous blow to Gram’s King Omfray. The tale of how Lucas had defeated and then captured nearly Gram’s entire navy had been spread far and wide amongst the Space Viking worlds, and he was becoming a laughingstock. It was unlikely that he’d risk such a bold move again, Valerie hoped. She didn’t need any more sniggling attacks from the Sword Worlds until she had dealt with Aton.
Some nights Valerie had fantasies about taking the entire fleet to bomb Aton. She saw herself clothed in white on the bridge of her flagship, holding her child up to a viewscreen to watch as millions of Atonians were being incinerated below, punished for the crime of supporting the regime who had deprived her of her husband. She usually felt horrendously guilty about such dreams when she woke up.
Usually.
Valerie sighed as she completed her circuit around the garden. It was supposed to calm her nerves and distract her, but the walk had brought her scant joy, and only reminded her of the weight she bore on her shoulders while Lucas was gone. But the moment she set foot back into the palace, she resolved to leave the moping and self-pity in the garden. She had a planet to run. And a war to conduct.
Apropos to that, the War Council was meeting here this morning for breakfast as they discussed the over-all strategic situation and planned future operations. They’d been doing this weekly since the Winter Ball, and nearly all formality had been dispensed with as they ground their way through detail after detail.
She changed into something more presentable and ordered her breakfast through her maid – fresh fruit and a high-protein yoghurt, with a decadent side of buttered toast – while Lady Ashley brought Elaine in for some quick mommy-time as Valerie prepared. The baby was thrilled to see mommy, of course, and Valerie spent some time tickling her with a make-up brush before her mid-morning nap, which made her giggle ferociously.
Ashley looked enormously pleased with herself – she’d been seeing someone, Valerie knew, although she hadn’t mentioned anyone by name. Probably a guard, Valerie had guessed – it was hard not to notice the number of extremely attentive, extremely polite, extremely well-built young men around Trask House. And Ashley had certainly noticed. She was glad her friend was having fun, even though it made her wistful about her own husband. Finally, she was as presentable as she was going to get, and Elaine was yawning. Valerie kissed her and promised a mid-afternoon play time, too . . . “just as soon as Mommy is done running the war!” she said, in a baby voice.
It only took a few moments to shift gears back to head-of-state as her guards escorted her down to the Blue Room, where the counselors waited. Harkaman, of course, and Nikkolay, as well as Valpry, Morland, and Rathmore. Lothar Ffayle was there, too, looking surprisingly chipper – usually the Minister of the Exchequer looked anxious and preoccupied, so that was a good sign. And Baron Basil Gorram had been invited, since the shipyards’ capacity figured prominently in the discussion.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said, without additional ceremony as the two Golden Hand guards took positions by the door. “What’s on our agenda for today?”
“A number of things, Highness,” Nikkolay said, opening up his clerical robot and transferring files to the viewscreen. “At the top of the list, Highness, is a request made for protection by the Council of Khepra,” he said with a sigh. “They want a permanent defense based there.”
“Khepra,” Valerie sighed, examining the request on the screen. It was politely worded and signed by nine different hands. “They know we’re at war?”
“There is a small telecast station at Shatnerville,” Valpry pointed out. “Lovely little town. It’s one of the four or five cities that we trade with there, now. They get news through TanithNews, every fortnight or so, on the regularly scheduled line. They saw what happened to Amateratsu,” he added, ruefully. “They’re scared.”
“But Gram attacked Amateratsu purely for gadolinium,” argued Valerie. “Khepra doesn’t have any. It should be in no danger.”
“Begging Her Highness’ pardon,” Baron Rathmore broke in, “but is that entirely true? Look, certainly gadolinium was Omfray’s motivation for the raid, that and a tragic sense of over-confidence. But the fact that the Amateratsuans are our allies was a factor, too. Now that we have stronger defenses there and at Beowulf, then . . . doesn’t that make Khepra the easiest member of the League to hurt?”
That was, she had to admit, utterly sound logic. Khepra was a close neighbor of Tanith, only 30 light years or so away. You could go there for a long weekend, if you had a ship and a flair for the extravagant. Khepra even resembled Tanith in a lot of important ways: extremely Earth-like, for one thing, with a large landmass and a completely Terro-Human compatible planetary biosphere. Technologically speaking, they had been only slightly cruder than the Tanith natives, before the Space Vikings came, and some regions were actually more sophisticated.
The tragic raid that had bloodied her husband in his murderous trade had born sweeter fruit. With Tanith’s help, the major regional powers had been convinced to at least meet in a regular council to discuss the affairs of the planet. And that had eventually led to Khepra being informally united under a Council of most of the territorial rulers. They’d made the largest city, Durham, the nominal capital – it was where the crude landing pad the locals insisted on calling a “spaceport” was located – and met quarterly or at need to discus what limited planetary affairs that needed it.
But since Khepra had accepted the protection of the three senior members of the League of Civilized Worlds, there had been a long, steady era of prosperity on the low-technology world that had benefited all. Durham was abuzz with imported contragravity vehicles, and there were a few hundred Space Vikings and entrepreneurs who had set up shop there to trade. The danger that Tanith was in from her multiple foes was not unknown, at least in some circles. While the peasantry maintained their blissful ignorance, the ruling class had seen the news and was worried.
“The problem is that they have no firm leadership,” explained Harkaman. “I’ve stopped back by there several times, spent a few thousand hours there, all told, and the locals all do a great job managing their own little kingdoms – but not one of those petty kings is going to recognize another one of them as their superior. So there’s not much in the way of coordination. Or military preparedness. Unless you count pike drills,” he added, dryly. “Truth is, most of Khepra isn’t any better defended than it was when we raided it ten years ago.”
“Any one of our enemies might decide to attack Khepra, simply because they happen to be in our neighborhood,” agreed Nick. “What scares me is that one of them may decide that an advanced base only thirty light-years away from us would be handy.”
“So we need to defend Khepra,” sighed Valerie. “All right, what’s the best way to do that?”
“The best way would be to impose a planetary monarch on them,” suggested Alvyn Karffard. “Not to dominate them, necessarily, but to act as a kind of advocate and guide. Someone who had a vested interest in protecting Khepra. We need another Lucas Trask for Khepra,” he suggested.
“We can’t find the Lucas Trask we have now,” Valpry said, sourly. “I, for one, have no interest in the position. I have no desire to leave my hard-won luxury for the privilege of ruling a bunch of iron-age neobarbs! And I believe the rest of you have jobs, too?”
“Resourcing that kind of expansion would be problematic,” Lothar Ffayle said, diplomatically. “If it’s to be a meaningful development, that is.” Meaning: We can’t pay for that. Well, that was his job to say.
“In the short term,” Harkaman continued, “we could permanently base a ship there. That might be a good use for that thousand-footer Gram so kindly donated to us.”
“If we could crew it,” nodded Valerie. “A
lthough a thousand-footer would provide just enough resistance to keep a single ship at bay, or at least rough it up, if anyone attacked in force it wouldn’t do much. Say,” she said, thoughtfully, “what if we stationed the Nemesis there, in orbit with a skeleton crew for a while, send a few pinnaces to help out, while we think of a better solution?”
“The Nemesis is the first ship fully deployed with the Dragons. If we can add some combat trainers for ground troops, and maybe some anti-ship batteries on the ground, that might help,” added Rathmore, helpfully. “If the local lords can agree on just who runs them and who gets the trained men.”
“We’re going to have to,” agreed Valerie, her heart sinking. More money. “Nick’s right: as costly as a real defense of Khepra might be, having one of our enemies take it over wouldn’t be good for either Khepra or Tanith. It’s a stopgap measure, but it’s going to have to serve. And that puts the Nemesis just over a day away from us, at need. And closer to Amateratsu.”
“I’ll handle the details,” Harkaman nodded, making a note.
“On to the next item,” Nick continued, “namely, our raid on Jotun. We apparently ruffled some feathers, thanks to how thoroughly the Warlord shook down the locals. The Atonians are livid, at least those who do business with Jotun. According to the Tanith Desk at Mardukan Naval Intelligence, a faction within their Party apparatus is pushing for a far more . . . active war with Tanith. Another faction, who appears to be stronger, seems content to let us prey on the colonies and trade worlds and keep their central core protected from us. But they are very publicly investing in the construction of more ships to patrol the ‘Greater Atonian Prosperity Collective’, as they call their empire. They’re touting it as a jobs program, too, to justify the expense.”
“More ships,” Harkaman said, shaking his head disapprovingly. “Doesn’t the Atonian Navy already have plenty?”
“Over forty, if Jane’s Fighting Ships is reliable,” agreed Morland. “That’s forty over a thousand feet, in the main Atonian Navy. Not counting the special Planetary Nationalist Party ships they use for covert operations. We have less than a dozen.”
“We also have a much smaller empire to protect,” Valerie pointed out. “We’re never going to conquer them by force – I just want to force them to release Lucas.”
“Well, we’re getting their attention, at least,” grumbled Nick. “But I don’t know if that will shake Lucas loose from them.”
“I don’t think asking ‘pretty please’ would have much effect, either,” Valerie countered. “I’m certainly not going to bend my knee to them to get him back.”
“Nor should you,” advised Karffard. “This is a low-level conflict right now, and as long as it stays such then Aton isn’t going to make a concerted effort to take Tanith. Capitulating – especially when they have not issued any demands or terms – would be pointless.”
“But the Jotun raid was just the beginning,” Nick continued. “We’ve hit them on nine of their trade worlds, everything from standard chicken-stealing raids to laying waste to entire regions. And the attacks against their shipping are starting to bear fruit, of sorts. The last ship that the Damnthing took was headed to a base of theirs on Bubastis. A new base,” he added. “It was full of supplies and ammunition, and they aren’t going to be happy about not getting it. It’s a long way between Aton and Bubastis.”
“So if they have an undersupplied base on Bubastis,” Morland reasoned, “why aren’t we attacking it?”
“They only put it there last year,” explained Nikkolay, “after they funded a revolution to overthrow the warrior aristocracy. Classic neobarbarian city-states and warring kingdoms. Aton landed an expeditionary unit there as a garrison and to ‘keep the peace’. And dominate the new political council in charge, I’m sure. They arrested local opposition leaders and took them off-world, and are ruling through proxy, now, at least the urbanized districts. If the base is unsupplied, that might be a good place for the Golden Hand or the Moon Goddess to raid.”
“Is there anything else worth getting on Bubastis?” Valpry asked, with interest.
“Luxury goods,” shrugged Rathmore. “They make this kind of buttery liquor. And great tobacco. There’s some interesting local fauna, and some unique flora that they export. There’s a Gilgamesher colony there, too, if I’m not mistaken.”
“I wonder if the former warrior-aristocracy is still around and fighting to get their positions back? Or the monastics who ran the government before?” wondered Harkaman aloud, fingering his beard characteristically. “It wouldn’t take much to lend them some support. What say we see if we can turn it to our advantage?”
“Going after an Atonian military base directly?” Valpry asked, skeptically. “Is that wise?”
“A third-rate base on a colony world, without hope of reinforcements?” Harkaman scoffed. “Militarily speaking, that’s low-hanging fruit. But once we took the base, what would we do?”
“Leave,” suggested Valerie. “Leave and make it that much harder for Aton to maintain their empire. We don’t need another world that far away. I don’t want it. But that doesn’t mean I want Aton to have it. If their men are low on ammunition and supplies, it might be a way to gain some prisoners, maybe enough to exchange for Lucas.”
“We already have prisoners,” complained Morland. “Those merchant ships our flag-bearers are capturing? Each one had a couple of hundred paying passengers on them, and their crews. Right now they’re being put up in the Royal Navy corner of the spaceport, but that’s a temporary situation. I meant to add it to the regular agenda, even, but since we’re discussing it . . . what exactly should we do with them?”
“Legally speaking, they’re Prisoners of War,” Nikkolay explained. “That means that they can’t be mistreated or forced to labor, they have to be decently fed, provided medical care, and given adequate shelter.”
“Who are these people, anyway?” Valerie asked.
“Mostly Atonian businessmen, traders, or people with family on other worlds,” supplied Morland. “They’re all very anxious about getting back to civilization, and all terrified of what we might do with them.”
“And they’re all Atonians?”
“Oh, goodness no, Highness,” Morland admitted. “Only a minority, actually. Most are from other worlds, using the most convenient transport to their destinations.”
“All right, here’s what we do: evaluate each of them individually, and do what you can to verify their credentials. Anyone from Marduk or their colonies, send to the embassy for repatriation. Anyone from Odin, Baldur, or one of the other non-aligned civilized worlds gets a hearing, and if they can convince you that they aren’t affiliated, let’s see if we can get them going again. But anyone from Aton . . . or Isis, for that matter,” she said, remembering what that horrible woman ambassador had said about Lucas, “I want you to establish a permanent POW camp somewhere. Not too rough, but not too comfortable. Someplace secure and out of the way – away from Rivington. And not at Cavendard, either – we still have some sort of spy amongst the Mardukan exiles, there, no need to add more vipers to the stew.”
“Actually, Highness,” Rathmore said, an amused smile on his face, “do you remember the fief which I had the honor to be granted with my title?”
“Duke of Restin, if I recall correctly,” Valerie remembered.
“Yes, Highness. On the map it’s the entire east coast of Beta Continent. Rolling hills and forests and just loaded with game, fish, and untrusting neobarbs. Apparently Restin was good farming territory, back during the Federation era. Well, I’ve begun establishing a settlement there, at the site of the largest town within my demesne, Restinburg. Just a modest little castle left over from the former warlord in the area, but I’ve got twenty or thirty men guarding it, and it’s not completely barbaric. But it is . . . safely free of modern conveniences. If we put them up there, they’d be safe, out of the way—”
“And you could rope them into improving your holdings?” Valerie completed,
amused.
“They might be persuaded to teach the locals a thing or two about civilization,” Hugh Rathmore conceded with a smile. “And I might be able to pick their brains about the state of commerce among the Great Powers. Which would further the capacities of the Ministry of Commerce,” he added.
“All right, Duke. If you’ll take them, feed them, and guard them, you can have them. Civilians only, however. Military prisoners . . . wouldn’t that fall to the Home Ministry?”
“It does,” Duke Paytrik sighed. “And we already have basic facilities, thanks to the prisoners from Gram. But that’s getting a little overcrowded now.”
“So don’t you have a Duchy in need of some skilled labor, too?” asked Valerie.
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