A Show of Force (17 page)

Zero.

The control arms for the lieutenant’s interface dish retracted to his sides, as did the dish itself moments after. As the dish collapsed, he felt the resistance to the atmosphere lessen somewhat. He pushed his right arm and leg out slightly as he arched his back, using the drag to roll himself over to face downward, in the direction of descent. He glanced at the countdown timer in his visor. Thirty seconds to release. Although he could not see them, he knew that the surviving members of his team were now maneuvering themselves away from one another for safety.

Thirty seconds passed, and the lieutenant felt a tug at his back as a small drogue chute opened and deployed. Although it did slow his descent somewhat, its main purpose was to pull his atmospheric interface dish away from him. Once unencumbered by the bulky apparatus, his remaining series of chutes would be free to operate.

Then it began… A series of drogue chutes, each one larger than the next. They deployed, slowed the lieutenant down a degree, then automatically detached, followed by the next chute in the series, eventually decelerating the lieutenant and his team down to acceptable speeds.

The lieutenant stared into the darkness below him as he rode the stream of drogue chutes downward. The patchy snow thousands of kilometers below glistened a surprising array of colors due to the light reflected off Weldon’s many nearby moons. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, his main chute deployed.

As they descended gracefully through the last few hundred meters, the lieutenant visually scanned the immediate area. As expected, there was no one in sight, as their chosen landing site was at least a five-day hike from their targets.

A minute later, the lieutenant flared his parachute and touched down, ending in a crouch with his rifle held high at the ready. He braced himself as his parachute retracted into the hard-pack on his back. The other pieces of his rig, the ones that had detached from him during his descent sequence, would ignite and disintegrate during their own descents, leaving very little to reach the surface.

Minutes later, his men gathered around him, each of them carrying the last section of their jump rig over their shoulder. The lieutenant dropped his chute pack on the ground in front of him, as did his surviving soldiers. He looked at their faces. Each of them appeared as mentally drained as he felt. Yet, he knew that they were ready to move out. “Seven,” he said. “It will have to do,” he added as he pulled out his cold-fire disposal tube. He cracked it open and poured the powder over his pack, then activated the container and dropped it onto the pack as well. The powder began to smoke, engulfing the pack in blue-gray smoke. His men did the same, sending broken clouds of smoke into the night sky. If anyone was near enough to see the smoke, and chose to investigate, there would be nothing left but stained ground when they arrived.

The lieutenant checked his visor for a direction. “We’ll head that way for now. There is a river about twenty kilometers distant. We can rest there before moving on.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Suvan Navarro stepped out of the elevator and found himself facing a long corridor. On either side were doors to the various high-end suites on the top level of the Hotel Dyason on the resort island of Carabo. Although he had stayed at this hotel many times in his life, he had never stayed in the penthouse level. Not that he could not afford to. His family was one of the oldest noble families of Takara, one of the original six houses that had settled this world more than five centuries ago. As one of the original six houses of Takara, his family held control of the last remaining capital ship, the Avendahl, which he had commanded for the last eight years.

Suvan was not a man to spend frivolously. His family had gained their fortune through careful investments over long periods of time. The only reason he had come to Carabo had been at the request of his wife, whom he had not seen for several months. Even then, had the Avendahl not been in port for resupply, he might not have come.

Yet, here he was, walking down the corridor to a penthouse suite, an upgrade his wife had no doubt wrangled on her arrival earlier in the day. Whatever Tylia Navarro wanted, Tylia Navarro got. He had learned that the hard way. It was why he had left his uniforms on board the Avendahl, as she despised the military, especially under the empire of Caius. For years she had begged him to pass command to his cousin, Ulias Navarro, and to retire, but Suvan had refused, not trusting the inexperienced younger officer with such responsibility. He had no doubt that this weekend she would again attempt to convince him to end his military service, which meant it would be a difficult couple of days for them both, and in the end, he would still be returning to his ship.

Suvan placed his hand on the lock panel on the wall next to the door at the end of the corridor. A green light flashed, and the door slid open. He entered the foyer, which was dimly lit. He moved forward toward the living room, laying his coat on a side chair as he walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite side of the room. He could smell his wife’s perfume in the air as he approached the window.

He stood at the window, gazing at the sunset over the crimson water below. He heard movement in the next room. As much as he and his wife found themselves at odds, he still enjoyed her company. He even found the long separations that his command required of him made their shared time even more enjoyable. He tried to block the suspicion that the weekend would eventually descend into bitter arguments, choosing to enjoy what time they had until then.

“Your wife will return shortly,” a male voice called from the shadows.

Suvan turned slowly so as not to appear ill at ease. The voice was older, and well spoken. A man of obvious breeding and intelligence. This man had somehow managed to arrange this meeting, either with or without the help of Suvan’s wife.

“I asked her to give us a moment alone, so that we might discuss some issues of mutual interest.”

Suvan finished turning around, turning to face the direction of the voice. On the far side of the room, back behind the wet bar, a man stood in the dim light, his face still in shadows.

“I trust you have come alone?” the voice inquired.

Suvan smiled, recognizing the voice. “Yes, Casimir, I am alone.”

Casimir picked up two drinks and stepped out from behind the bar and into the light. “I respect a man who does not feel the need to bend to outdated protocols and concepts.”

“If you are referring to my not using your title, it is not because I do not feel the need to respect tradition,” Suvan explained. “It is because you chose not to accept your rightful position as leader of Takara. Instead, you handed power over to the nobles. Technically, that means you are neither a prince nor a king, but rather, a noble, the same as I.”

“Quite correct,” Casimir agreed, handing a drink to Suvan. “I apologize for the clandestine nature of this meeting. I’m sure you can understand the need to keep this discussion out of the public view.”

“It is not the public from which you wish to conceal this meeting,” Suvan commented.

“Quite right. I’m afraid that knowledge of this meeting by itself could have serious repercussions.”

Suvan sipped his drink. “That would be an understatement of considerable magnitude.”

Casimir also sipped at his drink as he moved over to the window to enjoy the view. “Do not be angry with Tylia; she had no prior knowledge of my intentions. Whatever her reasons were for asking you here were her own.”

“Then how did you know I would be here?” Captain Navarro wondered.

“I have many sources,” Casimir explained.

“As do all the houses of Takara.”

“True enough. However, I left the Takar system two days ago for Corinair. All records show me still on that world. My people arranged to have you upgraded to this suite because all of its windows face the storm side. No boats can safely sail those waters. Not with that swell. Hence, no one can see into this room, or eavesdrop on our conversation.”

Suvan Navarro sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs facing the window and Casimir. “I take it you are hoping to secure my loyalty?”

Casimir smiled. “I served with your father, you know. On Palee. We trained together. He was an amazing pilot and a gifted tactician. Whatever became of him?”

“He went on to command the Kittabor,” Suvan explained. “He was killed at the Battle of Augamenta, when the Karuzari ambushed the ship with a wave of suicide ships armed with nuclear weapons.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Casimir replied. “Augamenta was after I had retired as leader of the Karuzari. They had become fanatical in their ways… Willing to kill indiscriminately, swearing that the ends justified the means. Perhaps, if I had stayed…”

“It is ancient history,” Suvan interrupted. “Although I do appreciate your sentiments. The fact is, my father chose his life, just as I choose mine. When one chooses to serve on a ship of war, one cannot complain when that service calls for the ultimate sacrifice.”

“A logical point of view,” Casimir agreed. “Somewhat harsh, I think, but logical nonetheless.”

“Perhaps it would be best if you got to the point of your visit, Casimir. I’m sure my wife is dying to know what you wanted to talk to me about.”

“Actually, I lied. Your wife went to the spa. Another ‘arrangement’ by my people. She does not even know I am here.”

“That would make more sense.”

“A change is coming, Suvan,” Casimir explained. “The nobles are forcing it upon us. The day will soon come when each man will have to decide where his loyalties lie, with his house, or with his people.”

“Must they be mutually exclusive?” Suvan wondered. “In a perfect world, one should be able to serve the needs of both. At least, that is how Takaran society was intended to function.”

“Ah, yes, but ours is not a perfect world,” Casimir replied. “Ours is a world filled with human imperfections. Lust, greed, envy, desire. At times they drive us to greatness, at other times to terrible evil. We are the only creatures in the galaxy that can convince ourselves that the sky is green simply because we need it to be, despite the fact that it is, and always has been, blue.” Casimir sighed as he moved to the chair next to Suvan. “Takaran society has become corrupted by the same noble families that sought to protect it. My brother committed such acts, twisted things up so badly, that I doubt it can ever be corrected. His most clever act was that he made all the houses even richer and more powerful than ever before, thus ensuring their loyalty for as long as the wealth and the anti-aging serum flowed. Now that the serum is no longer, the nobles seek to rally their fortunes with even greater zeal than before, as if more wealth will give them longer life. It is insane.”

“Perhaps, but it is what it is. You, more than anyone, must know that it cannot be corrected, at least not without great sacrifice.”

“Great sacrifice,” Casimir repeated solemnly. “I had so hoped to avoid such sacrifice. I have already seen so much needless death and destruction… more than any man should witness in a hundred lifetimes.”

“Am I correct to assume that you have not yet convinced the nobles to support the Alliance in the Sol sector?” Navarro asked.

“I cannot get them to commit one way or the other,” Casimir voiced in frustration. “They push me to the breaking point, then voice disfavor when I legally end run them to achieve my goals.”

“I see.”

“I fear that I can only do so for a limited time,” Casimir explained. “Eventually, the nobles will be forced to take a position either for, or against supporting the Alliance. However, I may have no alternative but to force their hand sooner than they would like.”

“And what is it that you require of me?” Captain Navarro asked, one eyebrow raised slightly higher than the other.

“We have only a handful of warships left, each of them owned by a different house. Of them, the Avendahl is by far the most powerful, more so than all the other ships of Takara combined. Were you to support me…”

“The Avendahl cannot protect House Ta’Akar,” Suvan warned, “not completely. It can prevent orbital attack from other ships, but your home, your family, they will still be vulnerable. Force is not the only way to declaw a noble name. And my house is not the most affluent, not by any measure.”

“But one.”

Suvan nodded agreement. “But one.” Captain Navarro took a deep breath and sighed. “As distasteful as it may be, as a son of House Navarro, I would be remiss if I were not to inquire about the benefit of such support.”

“Honor?”

“To men such as us, that would normally be enough,” Suvan agreed. “However, in such times, one must ensure one’s own strength, even financially, if one is to continue to set an honorable example for others to follow.”

“Indeed,” Casimir agreed. “The flow of propellant from the 72 Herculis system in the Sol sector should be more than enough to protect both our houses against financial instability, should events sour.”

“The introduction of this propellant into the marketplace of the Pentaurus cluster has already raised considerable protest among the nobles,” Suvan warned.

“The propellant thus far has been but a trickle,” Casimir dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Enough to cause them to consider their position more carefully.”

“So then, you have the ability, should you choose, to cripple the market and bring the nobles to their knees, financially speaking. Then why not do so?”

Casimir leaned back in his chair, setting his empty glass down on the side table. “I tire of this game. It was never one that I enjoyed to begin with. Perhaps I should put this another way, Captain. The Avendahl may be owned by House Navarro, but her crew is not. They must be paid for their services, just as the resources needed to feed them, and to run your ship, must also be paid for. Your family does not have the financial resources to fund the operation of that ship for more than a few weeks at best. Once those funds run dry, the Avendahl becomes a threat to no one. A useless hulk of metal that is of value only as scrap.”

“Such support can come from other houses just as easily,” Captain Navarro stated confidently. “There will always be someone willing to pay to have such a ship at their disposal.”

“Of all the noble houses of Takara, there are but a handful that can afford such services,” Casimir pointed out, “even fewer still once propellant from the Sol sector begins to flow more freely.”

“Such an overabundance of product would hurt everyone’s accounts,” Suvan warned, “including that of the seller.”

Casimir stood, straightening his coat. “Then it appears, my good captain, that you have a choice to make.” He moved toward the exit, pausing halfway across the room to turn back toward Suvan. “I apologize for the deception, Suvan. I trust you will keep our discussion private.”

“Of course.”

Casimir nodded politely as a show of appreciation and respect, then turned and continued toward the door.

“Casimir,” the captain called.

Casimir stopped in his tracks, turning back toward the captain once more.

“Just because we do not live in a perfect world, it does not mean that we are excused from behaving as if we were.”

Casimir smiled, nodded again, and then departed without another word.

Suvan Navarro sat in his chair, staring out the big windows at the Takaran sun as it disappeared behind the cresting waves in the distance.

The future is going to be interesting
, he thought.

* * *

The elderly gentleman drove his vehicle down the streets of Cetia, just as he always did at the end of each and every work week. He circled the same paths over and over, only occasionally wandering onto side streets. It seemed to him that the selections were becoming less appealing with each passing week. He had toyed with the idea of taking his business to more reputable providers. After all, he certainly could afford their higher rates. However, he preferred the anonymity that came with the ‘independents’—as they were commonly referred to—who worked the streets of the less favorable neighborhoods. There was just something about them…

Yet another lap revealed no new providers. The hour was getting late, and if he did not initiate a transaction soon, he would be forced to abandon his efforts and head home for the weekend. Home to his wife and children. Home to the chores and drudgery that was his life. This night was the only night he had available, as his pattern of working late in order to ensure the entire weekend off had been established, and verified by his wife, many years ago.

He checked his watch again as he turned the corner to begin his last circuit. If he was lucky, someone he had not yet seen would have finished her last transaction and returned to solicit another since his last lap. He continued down the main boulevard, continuing until he was well beyond the normal area of activity. He turned around at the next intersection and headed back in the opposite direction, not wanting to take the additional time to loop around the parallel block, where only the less appealing independents seemed to linger.