Shadow of Freedom-eARC (35 page)

“Neither do I,” he said. “Which, I’m afraid, suggests to me that the reports you’re referring to are exaggerated. Understandably, I’m sure,” he added, not trying to sound any more sincere than she or Thurgood had, “given all the unrest that’s been swirling around since the Battle of Monica, but nonetheless exaggerated. And while I’ve just agreed it’s better to be safe than sorry, our resources—as Commodore Thurgood has just pointed out—are limited. I don’t think it would be wise to waste them responding to threats which may not even be real.”

“I’m inclined to agree, Junyan,” Verrochio said quickly, before Yucel could fire back. “I’d like to stay focused on the specific case of Mobius at this point, though. Brigadier?”

Yucel sat in brief, fulminating silence, then inhaled deeply.

“It’s possible President Lombroso
is
seeing Manticoran involvement when there isn’t any,” she conceded, although her tone made it obvious she thought nothing of the sort. “Nonetheless, it’s clear his problems are much more serious than our earlier assessments suggested. And I think it’s equally clear he’s losing whatever nerve he may once have had. That’s not a recipe for success, so I think we have to decide whether we’re going to support him or the time’s come to go ahead and supplant him. And the Vice Commissioner—and the Commodore—are right that we have limited resources. We can’t afford to waste them, and, frankly, providing a garrison to maintain direct control on a long-term basis would cut deeply into my available strength.”

Verrochio winced. One thing of which no one could ever accuse Francisca Yucel was subtlety. Still, she had a point. Lombroso was a lot less valuable to Frontier Security than he might think he was. In fact, under normal circumstances, as Yucel had just implied, Verrochio would have been simply biding his time until things got bad enough to provide OFS with an unassailable case for—regretfully, of course—moving in to restore public order and safety. In the process of which, Mobius would just happen to find itself an official protectorate and President Lombroso would just happen to find himself unemployed.

Circumstances weren’t normal, however, and the last thing he needed was to have Mobius melt down right on his doorstep. Manty meddling in the Mobius System or not, the restiveness of Lombroso’s opposition undoubtedly owed a lot to what had already happened in Talbott. The example of a whole cluster of worlds seeking and receiving admission into the Star Empire hadn’t been lost on any of the nominally independent planets in the vicinity. They were bound to see that as a better deal than being systematically sucked dry by one transtellar or another or engulfed by Frontier Security, at any rate, and he never doubted that his ultimate superiors back in Old Chicago would recognize that as well as he did. And they wouldn’t thank him for allowing the dike of OFS’ prestige and power to spring any fresh leaks, either.

Which didn’t even consider the way Trifecta Corporation and its economic allies would react if he let anything like a genuine Mobian régime topple Lombroso. It might take years for Trifecta to get its hooks properly into Lombroso’s successor, and they’d undoubtedly raise hell about it the entire time.

“Should I take it you concur with Brigadier Yucel’s reading of the situation, Colonel?” the commissioner inquired, looking at Colonel Armand Wang, Yucel’s equivalent of Captain Merriman.

Wang was a good forty centimeters taller than Yucel, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a high-arched nose. He was also, in Verrochio’s opinion, rather less of a blunt object. Now he glanced at Yucel from the corner of one eye, then shrugged.

“It’s possible”—he stressed the adverb ever so slightly—“President Lombroso and General Yardley are overreacting. As you say, Sir, they’ve insisted the sky was falling in the past. But we’ve looked at their reports, especially the most recent ones from General Mátyás, and at Ms. Xydis’ messages carefully. We’ve also sent back a request for additional information from Trifecta Corporation’s sources in the system, although it’s going to be a while before we hear from them in reply.” He shrugged. “On the basis of all information currently available to us, there’s no question but that at least some modern weapons have found their way to President Lombroso’s opposition. That’s obvious, however they got there, and even if the local authorities
are
overreacting, this isn’t the time to let something like this get out of hand.”

Well, Verrochio really hadn’t expected him to contradict Yucel. The commissioner looked at Hongbo, who also shrugged. Which was a lot of help, Verrochio reflected sourly.

The commissioner suppressed a temptation to gnaw on a fingernail. Anything he dispatched to Mobius would be unavailable if something decided to blow up on one of the Madras Sector’s planets, and the excuse that he’d been trying to prevent a Mobius meltdown was unlikely to appease critics in Old Chicago if the troops he needed to prevent his own sector from burning to the ground were elsewhere at the critical moment. But if he let Mobius turn into another Talbott Quadrant…

“All right,” he sighed. “I see your point, Francisca. And yours, Colonel Wang. And, all things considered, I don’t think this is the time for us to be supplanting any more local régimes. So, having said that, what would you recommend?”

“I think we don’t have any choice but to meet Xydis’ request for boots on the ground.” Yucel smiled unpleasantly. “The locals may be willing to come out into the open against Lombroso’s Presidential Guard, but I doubt they’ll be so eager against an intervention battalion or two.”

“Is that strong a response really necessary, Brigadier?” Hongbo asked distastefully.

“We don’t have a lot of options here, Mr. Vice Commissioner.” Yucel pointed out testily. “Anybody I send to Mobius will be out of my order of battle in-sector for months, so if we’re going to send troops at all, we have to send enough of them—and with clear enough rules of engagement—to break these terrorists’ backs quickly. Get in, kick the shit out of them, turn the situation back over to Lombroso—maybe with a Gendarmerie adviser or two and a company or so of troops for support—and then get the rest of our people back here. Do it hard and fast and we may just be able to complete the entire operation before anyone here in the Madras Sector even realizes we’ve diverted any of our strength elsewhere.”

“Something to be said for that, Mr. Commissioner.” Thurgood clearly didn’t enjoy saying that, but his expression was unflinching when Verrochio looked at him.

“Whether it’s a good idea to intervene at all is outside my area of competence, Sir,” the Frontier Fleet officer said. “I’m no expert at controlling insurrections on the ground. But if the decision’s that we ought to intervene in Mobius, I’m in favor of getting in and getting out as quickly as possible.” His lips tightened in distaste. “If we’re sending in troops on the ground, I’ll need to come up with at least a couple of destroyers to control space around the planet. If for no other reason than to make sure no more shipments of modern weapons get through to the other side while we’ve got troops down there. That means that in addition to any troop strength Brigadier Yucel has to divert, I’m going to have to divert
naval
strength, as well. And, frankly, the longer any of my ships are away, the more likely it is that something’s going to get past us here at home.”

It was obvious that, outside his area of competence or not, Thurgood was opposed to the entire notion. That didn’t invalidate his points, unfortunately.

Verrochio closed his eyes for a moment, thinking, then sighed.

“I want an estimate of the troop strength you’re proposing to commit, Francisca,” he said. “And I want to see your operations plan before I make any hard decisions. Having said that, I think you’re probably right and we need to get support in there for Lombroso before bad turns to worse. Commodore,” he turned back to Thurgood, “as soon as the Brigadier and I have determined exactly how many troops we’re committing, I’m going to need your best numbers on transport requirements and what kind of warship support you expect to be necessary.” He smiled bleakly. “If we’re going to do this, let’s at least try to get it right.”

Chapter Twenty

“
What
did you say?”

Albrecht Detweiler stared at his oldest son, and the consternation in his expression would have shocked any of the relatively small number of people who’d ever met him.

“I said our analysis of what happened at Green Pines seems to have been a little in error,” Benjamin Detweiler said flatly. “That bastard McBryde wasn’t the only one trying to defect.” Benjamin had had at least a little time to digest the information during his flight from the planetary capital of Mendel, and if there was less consternation in his expression, it was also grimmer and far more frightening than his father’s. “And the way the Manties are telling it, the son-of-a-bitch sure as hell wasn’t trying to
stop
Cachat and Zilwicki. They haven’t said so, but he must’ve deliberately suicided to cover up what he’d done!”

Albrecht stared at him for several more seconds. Then he shook himself and inhaled deeply.

“Go on,” he grated. “I’m sure there’s more and better yet to come.”

“Zilwicki and Cachat are still alive,” Benjamin told him. “I’m not sure where the hell they’ve been. We don’t have anything like the whole story yet, but apparently they spent most of the last few months getting home. The bastards aren’t letting out any more operational details than they have to, but I wouldn’t be surprised if McBryde’s cyber attack is the only reason they managed to get out in the first place.

“According to the best info we’ve got, though, they headed toward Haven, not Manticore, when they left, which probably helps explain why they were off the grid so long. I’m not sure about the reasoning behind that, either. But whatever they were thinking, what they accomplished was to get Eloise Pritchart—in person!—to Manticore, and she’s apparently negotiated some kind of damned
peace treaty
with Elizabeth.”

“With
Elizabeth?
”

“We’ve always known she’s not really a lunatic, whatever we may’ve sold the Sollies,” Benjamin pointed out. “Inflexible as hell sometimes, sure, but she’s way too pragmatic to turn down something like that. For that matter, she’d sent Harrington to Haven to do exactly the same thing before Oyster Bay! And Pritchart brought along an argument to sweeten the deal, too, in the form of one Herlander Simões.
Doctor
Herlander Simões…who once upon a time worked in the Gamma Center on the streak drive.”

“Oh,
shit
,” Albrecht said with quiet, heartfelt intensity.

“Oh, it gets better, Father,” Benjamin said harshly. “I don’t know how much information McBryde actually handed Zilwicki and Cachat, or how much substantiation they’ve got for it, but they got one hell of a lot more than
we’d
want them to have! They’re talking about virus-based nanotech assassinations, the streak drive,
and
the spider drive, and they’re naming names about something called ‘the Mesan Alignment.’ In fact, they’re busy telling the Manty Parliament—and, I’m sure, the Havenite Congress and all the
rest
of the fucking galaxy!—all about the Mesan plan to conquer the known universe. In fact, you’ll be astonished to know that Secretary of State Arnold Giancola was in the nefarious Alignment’s pay when he deliberately maneuvered Haven back into shooting at the Manties!”

“What?” Albrecht blinked in surprise. “We didn’t have anything to do with that!”

“Of course not. But fair’s fair; we did know he was fiddling the correspondence. Only after the fact, maybe, when he enlisted Nesbitt to help cover his tracks, but we did know. And apparently giving Nesbitt the nanotech to get rid of Grosclaude was a tactical error. It sounds like Usher got at least a sniff of it, and even if he hadn’t, the similarities between Grosclaude’s suicide and the Webster assassination—and the attempt on Harrington—are pretty obvious once someone starts looking. So the theory is that if we’re the only ones with the nanotech, and if Giancola used nanotech to get rid of Grosclaude, he must’ve been working for us all along. At least they don’t seem to have put Nesbitt into the middle of it all—yet, anyway—but their reconstruction actually makes a lot of sense, given what they think they know at this point.”

“Wonderful,” Albrecht said bitterly.

“Well, it isn’t going to get any better, Father, and that’s a fact. Apparently, it’s all over the Manties’ news services and sites, and even some of the Solly newsies are starting to pick up on it. It hasn’t had time to actually hit Old Terra yet, but it’s going to be there in the next day or so. There’s no telling what’s going to happen when it does, either, but it’s already all over
Beowulf
, and I’ll just let you imagine for yourself how
they’re
responding to it.”

Albrecht’s mouth tightened as he contemplated the full, horrendous extent of the security breach. Just discovering Zilwicki and Cachat were still alive to dispute the Alignment’s version of Green Pines would have been bad enough. The rest…!

“Thank you,” he said after a moment, his tone poison-dry. “I think my imagination’s up to the task of visualizing how
those
bastards will eat this up.” He twitched a savage smile. “I suppose the best we can hope for is that finding out how completely we’ve played their so-called intelligence agencies for the last several centuries will shake their confidence. I’d
love
to see that bastard Benton Ramirez y Chou’s reaction, for instance. Unfortunately, whatever we may hope for, what we can
count
on is for them to line up behind the Manties. For that matter, I wouldn’t be surprised to see them actively sign up with the Manticoran Alliance…especially if Haven’s already on board with it.”

“Despite the Manties’ confrontation with the League?” The words were a question, but Benjamin’s tone made it clear he was following his father’s logic only too well.

“Hell, we’re the ones who’ve been setting things up so the League came unglued in the first place, Ben! You really think someone like
Beowulf
gives a single good goddamn about those fucking apparatchiks in Old Chicago?” Albrecht snorted contemptuously. “I may hate the bastards, and I’ll do my damnedest to cut their throats, but whatever else they may be, they’re not stupid or gutless enough to let Kolokoltsov and his miserable crew browbeat them into doing one damned thing they
don’t
want
to do.”