Empire Of Man 3 - March to the Stars (45 page)

“I'd already assumed as much,” the captain said quietly. Silence hovered for a moment as he and his subordinates thought of all the men and women they would never see again. The men and women they had assumed were safe at home while they battled their own way across the steaming hell of Marduk.

“Go on, Sergeant,” Pahner said finally, his voice still quiet but unwavering.

“Yes, Sir.” Julian glanced back at his notes, then resumed. "This IBI agent—Temu Jin—included a group of articles from various e-news outlets, as well as analysis articles from Jane's, Torth, and AstroStrategy, as well as full e-news loads from the top outlets. They're all indexed, and he highlighted some of them. I've only skimmed those.

“Apparently, the coup caught the IBI flat. A flier bomb was set loose in IBI headquarters—it's a pile of rubble, now. The head of the IBI was at Home Fleet headquarters at the time. It was also struck, but it managed to survive and launch a counterattack, including calling down a drop by the Marines of Home Fleet. Nefermaat, the IBI's second-in-command was off-planet at the time, and he's now wanted for questioning. There's a note on that from Jin. He thinks Nefermaat's disappearance is probably an indication that he's dead rather than linked to the coup in any way.”

“Reason?” Pahner asked flatly.

“It turns out that Nefermaat was in Jin's line of control. Jin's orders to lie low came in about two days after the coup, along with a note that said basically that the real legal situation was unclear, and that all agents were to ignore orders from any higher authority, unless they could verify that they were valid.”

“That could just be Nefermaat cutting out a section of the IBI,” O'Casey mused. “Or this could be disinformation directed at Roger.”

“What in the world makes you think that?” Roger asked. “How would anyone even know we're here—that I'm here—to be disinformed in the first place?”

“I don't know,” O'Casey said. “But when you start getting into these labyrinthine games of empire, you have to be aware that some of them are very deep and very odd. And that some are just odd, but look deep and mysterious because the people running them are so confused.”

“For now, until something else presents itself, we'll take Jin's data as valid,” Roger decided. “Just keep in mind that it could be wrong.”

“Very well, Your Highness,” Julian agreed. “We'll get to Jin's speculation in a moment, but for right now, I'll just say that I agree with it. And if he's right, that means Nefermaat is a scapegoat. A dead one. Or, at least, on the run and in hiding.”

He referred back to his pad once more and nodded.

“Your mother is alive, Your Highness, but according to the reports, she was injured. It's only the last article in the queue which has her back in public at all . . . accompanied by Prince Jackson and the Earl of New Madrid.”

“My father?” Roger stared at him in stark disbelief.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Julian confirmed. “He's now established as a pro-consort, engaged to your mother.”

“Holy shit,” Roger said very, very quietly. “I can see why you think there's something fishy in Denmark.”

“According to the news accounts, we were all reported dead, along with Roger, when the DeGlopper failed to arrive at Leviathan on schedule,” Julian continued. “It looks like our 'demise' made quite an impression on the news services . . . until the coup attempt came along and pushed us to the back of the queue.”

“I thought the story was that I'm behind everything,” Roger said.

"Yes, Sir, but that's a recent development. A very recent one, in fact. It's only turned up in the last news from Sol, and it represents an entirely new twist on the original story.

“In the immediate aftermath of the coup, our disappearance was linked with Alexandra's death, as part of the general attack on the Imperial Family, but that didn't last. I can't tell from the data where the suggestion first came from, but eventually someone pointed out that we'd disappeared well before the rest of the Family was attacked. The new theory is that what really happened was that we dropped out of sight as the first step in a deep, complicated plan on Roger's part to kill off everyone between him and the Throne.” He grinned tightly at his silent audience. “At least we're no longer dead; now they want all of us for treason.”

“Standard protocol,” Pahner said. “How much?”

“Lots,” Julian told him with an even tighter grin. “There's a forty-million-credit reward on your head, Captain.”

“I hope I'm around to collect it.” Pahner grinned back, but then his expression sobered once more. “You're right, though. This doesn't add up. What are the fleets doing?”

“Prince Jackson ordered all fleets, with the exception of Home Fleet, away from the Sol System. In fact, he ordered most of them into his sector of control, but that's also along the Saint border, so it makes some sense. Sixth Fleet hasn't been able to move yet, though. According to reports, they're having trouble scaring up the logistic train they need to shift stations so radically. Especially with every other Fleet command moving at the same time and scrambling to meet its own logistical requirements. For now, they're still in the Quarnos Sector.”

“Admiral Helmut can't find the lift capacity he needs?” Roger stared at Julian for a moment, then snorted harshly. “Oh, yeah. Right!” He shook his head. “And what are the Saints doing while all this is going on?”

“As far as I can tell, nothing. And that has me worried.”

“Why would they sit this out?” Roger wondered aloud. “I'd expect them to pick off a few systems, at least. Like, well, Marduk.”

“From what Julian's saying about Prince Jackson's redeployments, plenty of Fleet units are headed this way,” Pahner pointed out. “Presumably, they know that, too. So maybe they're lying low, figuring that now is a bad time to attack.”

“And maybe they were told that if they lie back now, they can have a concession later,” Roger said harshly.

“And maybe that, too,” Pahner admitted.

“Okay.” Roger drew a deep breath. “We won't make any assumptions about their motivations for the moment, simply note that they haven't moved—yet—and hope it stays that way.” He looked back at Julian. “That still leaves a few dozen other burning questions, though. Like who's in charge of the Fleet? What happened with Home Fleet? And what the hell happened with the IBI to let them blindside Mother this way?”

“General Gianetto has been given the position of High Commander for Fleet Forces,” Julian said.

“Ah,” Pahner said with his first real smile of the meeting. “Excellent!”

“Uh,” O'Casey cut in. “Maybe not so excellent.”

“Why is it excellent?” Roger asked. “And why maybe not? Armand first.”

“I've known Guy Gianetto on and off for nearly half a century,” Pahner said, frowning at O'Casey. “He's ambitious, but he's also solidly in favor of a strong Empire, a strong imperium. He would never betray the Empire.” He started to say something more, then made himself visibly change his mind. “What does Eleanora have to say?” he asked instead, his tone half-challenging.

“That you're entirely correct,” she replied. “General Gianetto would never betray the Empire. As he sees it.”

“You're saying he might feel that some action is necessary to save the Empire from itself?” Roger asked. Pahner opened his mouth, but the prince raised a hand gently. “Let her speak.”

“He and Prince Jackson have gotten closer and closer over the last decade,” O'Casey said. “Both of them favor a strong defense, although Jackson's interest in such questions is . . . complex. For one thing, his family fortune is closely tied to defense industries. For another, he's the most prominent noble of the Sagittarius Sector, so he's constantly aware of the threat from the Saints. That gives him two reasons to favor a strong defense, which is why he's so consistently found on defense-related committees.”

“What's wrong with wanting a strong defense?” Pahner asked. “It's a big, ugly galaxy out there, Councilor.”

“Preaching to the choir here, Captain,” O'Casey said seriously. “But there are inevitable questions. There's a lot of corruption in the procurement process—you know that even better than I do—and Jackson and his family have fingers in all the pies. He's also cultivated very friendly relationships with the majority of the senior officer corps. Very friendly relations. He not only hosts them to parties and junkets, but he's even gone so far as to countersign loans for some of them. Even covered some of them when they defaulted.”

“That's against Fleet Regulations,” Pahner said. “If it's true—I'm not saying it isn't, mind—but if it's true, where the hell has the IG been? And why didn't I get invited?”

“At a guess, you didn't get invited because you were too junior until you took this command,” O'Casey said. “And, yes, where was the Inspector General?” She looked Pahner straight in the eye. “What was Gianetto for the last seven years?”

“Oh,” the captain said in a flattened tone of voice, and his mouth twisted bitterly.

“Gianetto is considered a paragon of virtue,” the chief of staff went on. “That's why he was made IG in the first place. And, okay, he's a much . . . smoother guy than Admiral Helmut. And Her Majesty initially trusted him. But over the last couple of years, she's been getting more and more indications that— Well, let's just say that I'm not surprised to see him in this. Saddened, but not surprised.”

“So what do we think is happening?” Roger asked. “Julian.”

“I think the coup succeeded, Your Highness,” the sergeant said flatly. “I think Jackson is either directly or indirectly controlling the Empress. I think Gianetto and your father, at least, are in on it.”

“Who's got Home Fleet?”

“That's still Admiral Greenberg, Sir,” Julian said after a quick reference to his notes. “Commodore Chan, his chief of staff, was fingered as the local planner of the coup. He was 'killed resisting arrest'. . . .”

“And you can believe as much or as little of that as you like,” Roger added bitterly.

“At any rate, Greenberg managed to retain command and acted as his own chief of staff for at least a few days, maybe a week or two. It's hard to tell. Eventually, though, Chan was replaced by Captain Kjerulf, the fleet Operations officer,” Julian added.

“Greenberg is a snake,” Pahner said. “Unless you have something countervailing to add, Ms. O'Casey?”

“I concur entirely,” the chief of staff said. “Snake. I recall that Chan was well thought of, on the other hand.”

“He might have fallen in with bad companions,” Pahner said with a grimace of distaste. It was clear he was still unhappy and unsure about Gianetto. “But it's more likely he was a convenient scapegoat. But Kjerulf, now. That's an interesting datum.”

“You know him?” Roger asked.

“Oh, I know just about everyone, Your Highness,” Pahner told him with a bleak smile. “Maybe not all of them as well as I thought I did, I suppose. But Kjerulf is Gronningen with five years of college, then Staff School and Command College, plus thirty years of experience.”

“Hmmm,” Roger said. “So what does that tell us?”

“He was probably a ready pick,” O'Casey replied. “They couldn't justify letting Greenberg operate permanently without proper staff backup, and he was the first person logically available, whether the real conspirators wanted to use him or not. If that's the case, it tells us the coup isn't fully spread through the Fleet. And that not everyone may be quite as convinced by the 'party line' as they'd like. Not if they need to worry so much about window dressing and allaying suspicion that they've put a man like Kjerulf into such a sensitive position.”

“Everyone agree with that?” Roger asked, looking around his advisers' faces. “There was a successful coup. Its control may not be entirely solid yet, but it's heading that way. And Mother's under duress.” Heads nodded around the table, and he grimaced. “Wonderful. Because if it was, there's just one problem.”

“It can't last,” O'Casey supplied for him. “Eventually she'll either break their control, or—if it's a direct drug or toot control—it will get found out.”

“So what does that tell us?” Roger said again. “Assume they think I really am dead.”

“I think it's obvious that that's exactly what they think, Your Highness,” Kosutic put in. “DeGlopper was the first bead in the magazine, and they obviously think they got us. What I don't know was whether they intended to make you the fall guy all along, or if this was some sort of ex post facto brainstorm.” The sergeant major snorted a bitter laugh. “You know, from a purely tactical viewpoint, you gotta love it. Look at it—they've got the perfect Overlord of Evil! They can keep right on chasing you for decades as a way to maintain the 'threat' that justifies whatever 'emergency measures' they decide to take, and they know they can never catch you, because you're dead!”

“The sergeant major is right,” O'Casey agreed. “And if they think you're dead, and they're worried about the Empress slipping out of their control, they have to be angling for an Heir. Probably another one by New Madrid.”

“And if they don't get an Heir and mother suffers a tragic accident anyway?” Roger asked. “Uncle Thorry, right?”

“The Duke of San Cristobal, yes,” O'Casey agreed. “But—”

“But he's damned near senile, and never bothered to have children,” Roger completed. “And after him?”

“At least a dozen claimants,” O'Casey said. “All with more or less equal claims.”

“Jackson's not in that group,” Roger amused. “But he's close. And given his position of advantage . . .”

“It's probable that the Throne would fall to him,” O'Casey said. “But whether or not he could hang onto it would be another matter. Given all of the other competing heirs, it's almost as likely that the Empire would simply dissolve into warring factions. The rival cliques are still out there, you know, Your Highness.”

“Arrrgh.” Roger closed his eyes and rubbed his face. “Julian, what's the dateline on the first news story that said Mother was something like 'alive and recovering'?”

The sergeant did a quick scan and pulled up an article.

“Nice word choice, Sir. 'Alive and should fully recover from her wounds.' Two months ago. Three days after the attack.”