Hegemony at dalou, p.8
Hegemony at Dalou, page 8
“If you feel so strongly, I suggest you resign,” Osamu said flatly, hearing even his bodyguards gasp in surprise at his words and tone. “Tell your true master that I am uncontrollable and get out of my hair for good. Is that sufficient understanding between us, Gadhavi?”
In the back of his mind, some idle function wondered if he’d been drugged at some point, to engage in such outrageous behavior. Doubly so in public.
In the end, though, he knew the truth. The weight of history and protocol was heavy on his shoulders, rounding them and hunching his back and mind, however metaphorically, with each passing day. Osamu’s own father, Shōhei, had withdrawn entirely from the life after it got to be too much, leaving his son to deal with it.
And deal with it he would.
Aliens had come to the Cluster and already done the impossible. Twice.
What more would Kosnett do to disrupt centuries of tradition?
Osamu watched his Premier bow deeply at the waist. No doubt to hide the fury on his face, lest Osamu simply fire him in disgrace.
The dread Emperor of Dalou chose to accept that retreat for what it was and stepped right past the man as everyone was paralyzed by indecision, going so far as to open the rear door of the transport himself and getting in, even as others around him squawked in barely-disguised outrage.
Where have we gotten to, that a man opening his own door is unacceptable?
At the same time, didn’t that describe much of modern Dalou culture?
Shingo took a seat next to him and bodyguards entered up front. Gadhavi made to join them and Osamu stopped him.
“No,” he said abruptly. “You will remain at the palace until I return to deal with you. Driver, move out.”
Someone outside the vehicle pulled the Premier back and shut the door, with that old man standing open-mouthed on the gravel roadway.
Freedom felt good.
Osamu hoped that the price he had to pay later wasn’t too great.
SEVENTEEN
DATE OF THE REPUBLIC NOVEMBER 15, 411 RAN URUMCHI, ELLARIEL ORBIT
Iveta felt her face want to fall into its natural scowl but stopped it. The creases would turn into wrinkles at far too young an age if she did that. Already, the first gray hairs were visible in places and she felt the touch of middle age creeping up on her.
They were in a conference room with a holographic projector. Her, Command Machinist El-Amin, Gunner Hào Boyadjiev, and Pilot Bozhidar Virág. Nam was busy with Harinder for now.
Urumchi’s top people for this. The big guns.
“Thoughts?” she asked of the Command Machinist sitting across from her.
Rais Hosni El-Amin. Technically, he outranked her, but Phil had assigned her a gold team/blue team exercise, and he’d volunteered to assist. It was that or let one of his engineers have all the fun.
Can’t have that.
“Those three monsters can throw six condors at us at once,” he replied, gesturing to the readout. “Wraithruin could add another one, so I assume the same from these other two cruisers as well. Plus a shitstorm of cranes from all directions.”
“Everything weakens with distance traveled,” Virág said. “Presumably we would have to maintain our distance and snipe with the Fours.”
“If we did that, we lose everything else and end up ceding them the initiative,” Iveta reminded everyone. “We don’t have the full squadron, either, so they could launch some firebirds at us and then charge in behind them, like happened at Meerut with Wulfa.”
Wulfa had chosen to die gloriously in battle, but Phil had also had two extra battleships on his side to annihilate the ship when it tried.
“Has anybody tried using those Shield Projectors that the locals use like snowplows?” Hào asked now.
“Explain,” El-Amin ordered brusquely.
“They have close shields like we do, and that projector,” Hào spoke. “It works like a curved piece of glass. Is that the only shape it could take? Could we change the pitch of it somehow and drive a firebird off to one side as it charged? Maybe force it to stop completely, pivot, and come back to us?”
“Can they even do that?” Iveta asked. “I’ve only ever seen them take the most direct route to a target, tracking as the ship evades.”
“They have some level of guidance systems aboard,” Hào said. “At least according to Aranyani’s notes. Whether that’s good enough to let them hold a lock on us, I can’t tell you.”
“Lock,” Iveta said quietly. “How do we break a lock?”
Every head turned towards her now.
“Aditi has a technique where they shut down all their active sensors and launch a shuttle broadcasting as much electronic snow and noise as they can,” Iveta said. “Most of the time that succeeds, because the firebird accepts the new target. The tradeoff is that they are blind for a while and have to come to rest, so again they also lose initiative. The other guy gets away, or has the chance to get to knife-fighting range.”
“What would you suggest?” El-Amin asked tersely.
Iveta considered it. She had studied every battle Jessica Keller had ever fought, beginning to end. Others had done the same, but they had been intent on learning how to fight like the woman.
Iveta wanted to think like her.
A lightbulb came on over her head, however metaphorically.
“Thuringwell,” she said suddenly to the others. “Warspite Four.”
Blank faces greeted her. No surprise. Only a complete nerd like her would even know that reference.
“Keller’s flight wing included a scout fighter, even as her force had the original Survey Cruiser Ballard,” Iveta said. “da Vinci, when she was a pilot, rather than a pirate. She and Ballard turned everything to max, and were able to convince the Imperials that a light missile cruiser had just appeared out of nowhere. Think our friend Shadowbolt, the light missile bombard. The imperials fell for it and wasted a lot of ammunition there, which the flight wing had been specifically prepped to destroy. That and Shivaji might have broken Fribourg for good.”
“How?” El-Amin asked.
Fourteen years ago, he would have been a simple Engineering Centurion somewhere, while Keller was invading imperial space and forcing them into the peace that might have eventually saved the galaxy.
“They called it Ghost Mode,” Iveta said. “Can we maybe do something like a shield projector, but instead of trying to create a forcefield that is strong enough to hold off firebirds, can we create an image of us forward and off to one side? If the firebird gets there, it should explode when it thinks it is about to damage Urumchi. What if we cause it to sail into a ghost and detonate?”
“Why has nobody ever tried it before?” El-Amin demanded.
“They don’t have the spare power that we do,” Iveta replied, reminding the man what Heavy Dreadnoughts were like, compared to the old days. “And they’ve never fought a serious war in their lives. Not one for survival. We’re a century or more ahead of them on warships because we spent all that time losing to Fribourg before Jessica beat them. Then Bedrov designed the Expeditionary-classes. Then he improved them. Three generations head start? Maybe five? They don’t even use the Primaries here, which still surprises me, but they have Power Taps and titan bolts and firebirds instead. Again, most of these ships are designed for anti-piracy patrols, rather than fleet actions. What can we do with this much of an edge?”
El-Amin fell silent when she did, but Iveta could see the wheels churning furiously. Best way to get an engineer to think outside the box was still to tell him something was impossible, then watch him move heaven and earth to prove you wrong.
Like moving a planetoid out of the way, instead of letting it slam into Vilahana.
She checked the others, but they were all a little green around the gills with shock at her words. That was fine. Heather had hired her as the best of the so-called Keller-clones on the market.
Junkyard.
She had finally earned a pirate nickname from Heather and Phil. Now, she needed to prove to the rest of the RAN that she was more than just another killer. After all, hadn’t future First Lord Arott Whughy originally invented the Pulse-Two that formed the backbone of this squadron?
What could Iveta Beridze contribute to the Art of War?
EIGHTEEN
DATE OF THE REPUBLIC NOVEMBER 16, 411 RAN URUMCHI, ELLARIEL ORBIT
Heather physically rotated her upper body to look at Leyla.
“Repeat that,” she said in disbelief.
“The shuttle that’s coming up broadcasts a transponder signal identifying it as containing both the Emperor and the Crown Prince,” Leyla said again. “It appears to be unarmed and without escort.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought you said,” Heather breathed heavily.
She thought about it for a long moment then keyed the flag bridge.
“Harinder,” the woman said.
“You and Phil need to take the flag, right now,” Heather said ominously. “We might have a situation on our hands.”
“Stand by.”
Phil was there in conference mode a second later.
“Talk to me,” he said earnestly.
“The Emperor of Dalou is flying up to the station in an unarmed shuttle without anyone around him, Phil,” Heather said simply.
The profanity that escaped his mouth was one she’d been considering for several seconds, so it was good to know that they were on the same page here.
“Is anybody reacting?” he asked.
“Not currently,” Heather said. “However, all of the Shogun’s warships are sitting at the top of the column of sky that the shuttle is circling up into. If anybody wanted to do anything, it’s likely to be over so fast that there will be no warning.”
He fell silent for a long moment.
“Bring the squadron up to a soft alert,” he ordered. “All guns locked down, but engines and shields ready for anything, including running like hell if we have to.”
“Running?” she asked.
“If this turns into an assassination, that’s the prelude to a civil war,” Phil said. “Remember the ancient events, and the order to expel all foreigners. I can hold Meerut just fine against Dalou while I send home for help, if the absolute worst case scenario happens today. At the same time, I do not wish to contribute anything to it, so maybe let the squadron drift back and away some while we’re at it.”
“Understood,” Heather said, turning to Bozhidar and nodding for her Pilot to start plotting something that looked innocent.
She had the kind of team that could almost read her mind, these days. Ground Control owned all their souls now.
“Anything else?” she asked.
“Go full defensive at the slightest hint of trouble,” Phil said. “I’m going to make some calls.”
He cut the line and Heather looked around.
“Leyla, communicate to everyone quietly,” she ordered. “QUIETLY. Bozhidar, find me a soft spot in the perimeter. Everyone else have some coffee and amp it up a notch for a few hours, until we know what happens.”
“We expecting anything?” Leyla asked.
“Even Phil doesn’t travel that wide open home at Ladaux,” Heather said. “Man has balls of steel, or he’s being set up. Either way, nothing we can do but watch.”
NINETEEN
ADCON CRUISER ARANYANI
“I’ll take it in my office,” Kaur said, rising and moving aft.
Phil calling right now, even as the squadron was being told to come to a low alert status, told her what it was about. It wasn’t that Kaur didn’t trust her crew to remain quiet. They had nobody to gossip to.
However, that changed the moment the ship got home. She needed to cover her own ass, as well as her posterity. She closed the hatch and locked it before sitting at her desk and opening the line. She even confirmed that the scramble was active.
This was an RAN code that hadn’t even been shared with the rest of the force. Just Aranyani.
“Hello, Phil,” she said in a grim voice.
“You’ve seen the Emperor’s message?” he asked.
“I have,” she replied. “Are there orders?”
“Be ready for anything, until he docks with the station,” the man said. “And I do mean anything. For now, we watch, and hope we aren’t witnesses to history.”
“History?” she asked, confused now.
“What would happen if someone assassinated the man?” Phil asked. “With the Crown Prince aboard at that? As I understand it, he has two younger daughters, but Dalou would be even less interested in a female emperor than Fribourg was.”
“I agree,” Kaur said, feeling that cold weight of history land on her back.
Already, she would go down as a witness to great things, as well as a participant. What more evil might the gods throw at them before it was all done?
“Could we somehow interrupt anything?” she asked.
“No,” Phil said definitively. “Heather and her team tell me that it would be over too quickly, even if we were in the middle of it. That’s why I want us over on a flank, in case we have to run.”
“Run?” she repeated, just to make sure she understood the man.
“That’s right,” he said. “If something stupid happens in Ellariel orbit and the squadron is running for our lives, I need you to split off, Aranyani. We’ll be heading to Meerut, and hopefully outrunning any ambush. You will proceed directly to Aditi itself and communicate with the Consensus. They’ll need to know.”
“We don’t know anything, Phil,” she offered.
“The stakes have just gone up to a level that makes me extremely uncomfortable, Kaur,” he said. “One fool. One fanatic. One mistake. All hell might break loose.”
“What would you expect the Aditi Consensus to do, First Centurion?” she asked, feeling her voice grow serious and distant.
“Watch from a safe distance, Captain.” He fell into the same didactic tone, every syllable a separate thing. “Such an event, such a situation, would be an internal situation for Dalou. One that outsiders should not allow ourselves to be drawn into. At any cost.”
Kaur blinked. Why wouldn’t Phil want the Dalou Hegemony in a state of utter chaos? The Consensus might take the opportunity to move in and establish a new wall of forward bases in that instance. Armed trade stations, but the kind where the fleet could call.
Or defend.
It wasn’t like the Consensus didn’t do that occasionally now. Probes, to see if they could slip in and hold some otherwise empty system. Or one that had illegal colonies on the ground somewhere and maybe needed trade.
Not all of them had been pushed back out later, either. The Consensus had successfully claimed at least a dozen stars from Dalou that way over the last century or so. Patience.
Phil had to know that. Was this a threat not to engage, if the Dalou Hegemony broke down into a civil war? Would there ever be a better time to do so?
“You would expect the Consensus to remain entirely aloof from any such situation?” she asked, just to confirm.
“I might require it, Captain,” he said ominously. “Nobody is served, in the event such a thing comes to bear. Not over the long term.”
Kaur bit back her sarcastic response, wondering what the man was about. The Consensus was always pushing their existing borders, mostly because most of their neighboring nations weren’t usually organized enough to push back. With the pirates broken, that might even get easier, as the Syndicates had generally preyed on Aditi shipping.
Spies back home presumed that the others had been paying the Syndicates to do so. Without that, nobody could stand against the Consensus, with the presumed exception of Yaumgan.
Kaur felt a chill descend on her very soul.
Phil had to know that. Had broken the Syndicates intentionally, and declared open war on them to get them to behave. Aditi would automatically flow into that vacuum. Doubly so without anybody pushing back.
Except that Phil had just intimated that he might push back.
By himself, a laughable proposition.
But the entire RAN could run roughshod over the Cluster if they wanted. If they had any reason to.
Would Phil defend Dalou from Aditi in a confrontation between nations? And Gloran and Ewin, the two flanking neighbors?
She felt like something important had just happened. Like someone had forced Phil into a situation that wasn’t supposed to come up, or at least be publicly acknowledged, until much, much later. Like she had a window into his secret plans, that somehow involved Dalou remaining a close second to Aditi in strength.
Except that made no sense whatsoever. Wouldn’t Aquitaine want the Cluster to descend into the chaos of a general war if they could arrange it? That opened an entire flank for Aquitaine to expand into, much like Aditi would fill, given the chance.
And Phil didn’t want that? Wanted her to convey a deep and dangerous message to her superiors if it came to that? Stay out or count me as an enemy? That sort of thing?
Kaur released the deep breath she had been holding. She studied the man’s face on the screen.
“Next week, we should probably sit down for a frank discussion, First Centurion,” she said curtly.
Phil nodded, like he wasn’t surprised by her response. That almost frightened her more, that he might be counting on that from her.
“If we can make it safely to next week, Kaur, I will tell you more,” Phil promise. “Not everything, but perhaps enough.”
Then he cut the line from his end, leaving her almost gasping with released pressure.
Was Phil negotiating some secret pact with Dalou? Something that might aid the Emperor? At whose expense, though? The only other power center in Dalou was the Shogun himself.
Unless Phil was planning on overthrowing the Shogun at some point.
Kaur leaned back, cold dread like a cloak on her shoulders.
