Cluster Command: Crisis of Empire II (17 page)

Eventually, he was finished. He killed the terminal, stood, and stretched. Then he strapped on his sidearm, grabbed his hat, and made his way out of the bunker. After the constant roar of the shuttles, it seemed strangely silent outside. Stars twinkled overhead and night sounds crowded in around the base. Low laughter came from the other side of a troop carrier as Sergeant Wilker cracked one of his jokes, a com set burped static, and a distant caw announced a jungle bird’s hunt.

Walking carefully, Merikur found his way between the prefab shelters, sandbagged weapons emplacements, and parked vehicles to where the dark bulk of his gig loomed. It crouched on stumpy landing jacks like a huge bug. The shuttle creaked slightly as ceramic-coated metal contracted in the cool air. With the exception of a single destroyer on picket duty a few lights out, the gig was his entire fleet. The thought brought a smile to his lips.

“Halt! Oh—sorry, Sir, I didn’t realize it was you.” The sentry stepped forward, separating herself from the darker shadow cast by the gig.

“No problem, Private. How’s that ankle doing?” Private Slocum had sprained her ankle during the original landing, and he’d noticed it on a sick call muster.

Slocum was surprised and pleased. “Just fine, Sir.”

Merikur palmed the entry lock. “Glad to hear it, Private. Don’t let anyone sneak up on us tonight. I need some rest.”

“I won’t, Sir,” Slocum replied, meaning it.

The hatch hissed open and Merikur stepped inside. He waited while the outer hatch closed and the inner hatch opened. The fights were dim and he left them that way. Hundreds of tiny red, green, and amber eyes stared at him from their various electronic lairs.

Stripping off his uniform, he stepped into the tiny fresher and sighed as the warm water hit his bare skin. He stood there for a long time, allowing the water to massage the tension from his muscles and mind. He finally turned it off and triggered the hot air blower. Once he was dry, Merikur stepped out of the fresher and into the narrow corridor.

He padded his way aft, palmed the hatch, and stepped into the darkness of his cabin. Before he realized he was not alone, he knew who was with him. The soft scent of Bethany’s perfume floated up around him. He sat down on the bed and two arms came out of the darkness to encircle his waist. The arms urged him down and back. He started to speak, but soft warm lips covered his, and conversation died aborning. Slowly, and with exquisite tenderness, their bodies met and became one.

Meanwhile, in the darkness of the hall, Merikur’s AID lay amongst the dirty laundry and wondered what sleep was like. It seemed less than attractive. What if they never turned you on again? The AID gave the electronic equivalent of a sigh.

Chapter 10

Merikur awoke to an incessant buzzing. He burrowed under his blankets, but it didn’t go away. Giving up he slapped the com set’s “on” switch and said, “You’d better have one helluva good reason for waking me up.”

Eitor Senda sounded amused. “Would a battle fleet dropping into orbit around Teller constitute sufficient reason?”

“Yes,” Merikur replied, suddenly upright. “I’ll be right there.” He hit the “off” switch and started to climb out of bed.

“You’ll be right where?” Bethany reached up to pull him down beside her. Her eyes were sleepy, her hair was a mess, and she looked absolutely beautiful.

Merikur kissed her forehead. “I have to go to work. The Haiken Maru fleet just popped into orbit with a few thousand Cernian troops aboard.”

She smiled. “How rude. One should always call before dropping in for a visit.”

He nuzzled her neck. “Really? You didn’t call last night.”

She bit his shoulder. “Are you sorry?”

“Sorry? I’ll show you sorry.”

“Oh really? What about the Cernians?”

“Cernians? Oh yeah, the Cernians.” Merikur rolled out of bed and rummaged for a fresh uniform. “I’m not complaining mind you . . . but how
did
you wind up in my bed? I thought you were safely stowed with Yamaguchi aboard the
Bremerton.”

Bethany sat up. “I was. But I changed my mind and hopped a shuttle back.”

“You do that a lot.”

“What?”

“Change your mind.”

She smiled. “Like changing my mind about you, for example?”

“Yes.”

“I was right though.”

Merikur finished tying his bootlaces and stood. “Right about what?”

“You did want to get me into bed.”

Leaning over, he kissed her lips. “Yup. You were right about that. Now get up and get dressed. I want you in the bunker ASAP. Things may get real hairy around here.”

Stepping into the corridor, Merikur stopped to retrieve his sidearm and AID. As he buckled them on, the AID said, “Good morning, Sleepy Head. I hope all that reproductive activity hasn’t tired you out.”

Merikur realized he’d left the AID well within broadcast range of his implant. “My advice to you is to shut up,” Merikur snarled. “Unless you’d like to be reprogrammed.”

“Well
excuse
me,” the AID replied. “By the way . . . I’m picking up some interesting radio traffic.”

“So give,” Merikur said, returning the sentry’s salute, and heading for the bunker. He was careful to maintain a brisk but normal pace. The reading of commanding officers is something of an art form, and the slightest frown can start rumors racing through any military base. “I just saw the old man. He sure looked worried. I’ll bet there’s some heavy shit coming our way.”

So Merikur didn’t run, he smiled at everyone he met and generally used body language to lie like hell.

Meanwhile, his AID was reporting on radio traffic. “Your picket ship reports nine Haiken Maru hulls in orbit around Teller and, here’s a surprise, there’s also four warships with a 99 percent match to Pact design. Wait a minute . . . yes they’re identifying themselves as navy ships . . . and requesting an audience with you.”

Merikur’s mind began to spin. Why was the navy providing the Haiken Maru fleet with an escort? Especially when the fleet was loaded with troops bent on invading a Pact planet? He felt a sudden emptiness in the pit of his stomach. Something was very, very wrong.

That impression was reinforced when he entered the bunker and saw Eitor’s face. The Cernian wore an upwards scowl. “You heard?”

Merikur nodded. “If you mean the naval escort, yes.” He turned towards the cluster of uniforms against the far wall. “Major Fouts.”

“Yes, Sir.” Fouts separated herself from the others.

“Put out orders that no one fires without my permission. Marine or rebel. One mistake and we’re all in deep trouble. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Fouts turned to a com tech as Merikur stepped over to the tac tank. At the moment, the holo projection showed Teller as a transparent globe. Grid lines matched latitude and longitude. At a flip of a switch the tac tech could alter the projection to a topographical map, a geological survey grid, or any of a dozen other possibilities.

For the moment, however, Merikur was more interested in the space around the planet than the globe itself. The Haiken Maru ships were bright blue deltas spaced 40 degrees apart in equatorial orbit. The Pact vessels were red dots: two destroyers, a cruiser, and a battleship according to the numeric codes associated with each. By assuming higher orbits than the Haiken Maru fleet, they had placed themselves between the merchant vessels and any threat from space. Any hope that the navy vessels were a coincidence rather than an escort was destroyed by that positioning.

Merikur swore softly and turned to Fouts.

“All right, Major. What are they saying?”

Fouts consulted the printout in her hand. “The Haiken Maru vessels request permission to land shuttles, Sir. There’s a Commander Moskone aboard the battleship asking to see you.”

“Tell the Haiken Maru vessels permission denied. Tell Commander Moskone to come on down. My compliments to the senior officer aboard the battlewagon, and all the usual niceties. You know, does he or she need anything, and all that sort of stuff.”

“Yes, Sir.”

As Fouts relayed the orders, Merikur poured himself a cup of coffee and tried to think. He’d been mentally prepared for all sorts of things. If the Haiken Maru fleet had dropped out of orbit with weapons blazing, he’d have known what to do. But this was completely unexpected. The Haiken Maru fleet was brazenly requesting permission to land, a naval escort was protecting them, and he was standing around looking stupid.

And why Moskone? The battleship rated a vice admiral. Where the hell was he or she in all this? Maybe the admiral was a disinterested observer and happy to stay that way. There was no way to tell. All he could do was hope for the best.

“Major Fouts.”

“Sir?”

“Contact Commander Jomu and Commander Horsehide. Bring them up to speed. And Fouts . . .”

“Sir?”

“Make sure they know I denied the Haiken Maru ships permission to land.”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll tell them.”

Merikur knew Fouts understood. The rebels had communications equipment of their own. By now they had pieced the situation together and smelled a rat. They’d be more upset about the naval escort than he was. One wrong move and the coalition would come apart and if it did, his marines would be caught between the Cernians in orbit and the rebels on the ground.

He’d already risked his life to prevent that.

A nervous hour passed. The Haiken Maru ships were kept under careful observation. They had acknowledged Merikur’s orders and made no attempt to launch shuttles.

Merikur didn’t trust them. They were waiting for something . . . Moskone’s visit most likely . . . and that meant they knew what the naval officer was going to say. It also meant Moskone’s message would favor them and their objectives.

Merikur had harbored a secret hope that Treeling’s files were wrong and that Oriana had granted the request for more marines and had chosen to load them aboard a fleet of Haiken Maru ships. It was still possible of course, but damned unlikely. The tone would be different. He’d be swamped with bored naval officers asking where to dump the grunts, grunts fighting for the best LZs, and a vice admiral who had nothing better to do than throw his or her weight around.

Moskone was coming down with some sort of message instead. It couldn’t be good.

Merikur did his best to smile reassuringly when Beth entered the bunker. She saw right through it.

She smiled in return and left him alone, knowing it was the best way to help.

Moskone arrived a few minutes later. As usual, the young officer looked like a recruiting poster come to life. His fatigues were carefully creased, his boots were only slightly dulled by dust, and his expression was jovial. “Good to see you Sir. Eitor . . . good to see you . . . and it’s always a pleasure to see you, Baroness.”

Merikur frowned. Trust Moskone to remember Bethany’s title. He did his best to appear bored. “So, Paul . . . nice of you to drop in. I assume those navy ships are loaded with marines?”

Moskone smiled and dropped into a chair without invitation. “I’m sorry to say they aren’t, Sir . . . but I’m sure you’ll approve. Admiral Oriana sent you this.” Moskone opened a thin briefcase, withdrew an envelope, and handed it to Merikur.

As Merikur accepted it, he noticed Oriana’s seal. Whatever the envelope contained had been witnessed and made part of official naval records. Merikur felt the emptiness in his stomach grow larger. Sliding a finger under the flap, he broke the admiral’s seal and withdrew the letter. It was on official stationery.

It was about what he’d expected. About as bad.

Dear Anson,

Hope this finds you happy and well. Sorry to hear about the difficulties out there. I’d like to help, but I’m a bit short on marines myself. However, since the rebels are largely Cernian, the Cernian government has agreed to send some troops to your aid, and the Haiken Maru has agreed to transport them. Apparently, the Cernian government is afraid the rebels will give them a bad name or something. (Send a troll to fight a troll, I always say.)

In any case, it solves your problem, and that’s all I care about. So, allow the trolls to land and bring their unruly relatives under control. Hang on to the planet though, we may need it later! Once the Haiken Maru ships reach Teller, the battle group has orders to return here.

My compliments regarding Commander Moskone. He seems just the sort of young officer to have around.

Best always,

Ori

A number of things became suddenly clear. Oriana had set him up. Merikur was to let the Cernians land but retain control of Teller. And that was clearly impossible once the Cernians landed. How could Oriana be so stupid?

But he wasn’t stupid, which implied he’d sold out to the Haiken Maru. The letter would allow Oriana to blame alien treachery and Merikur’s incompetence for the loss of Teller . . .

Merikur could imagine Oriana shaking his head sadly and looking around at a board of inquiry. “Like Governor Windsor, I thought the aliens could be trusted. And Merikur, well he seemed a steady fellow. Unfortunately, appearances can be deceptive. In spite of my orders to the contrary, he handed control of the planet over to the Cernians. I accept full responsibility, of course.”

But he wouldn’t have to accept full responsibility. Oriana’s fellow officers would decide in his favor. After all, it wasn’t his fault—just his bad luck—that treacherous aliens and an incompetent subordinate had joined forces to lose a planet. Besides, Teller was a hellhole. If the trolls wanted it so bad, let ’em have it.

Shaking with contained rage, Merikur handed the letter to Eitor. The Cernian read it and scowled as he handed it back. He started to say something, but glanced at Moskone and gave a slight shake of his head.

Suddenly, Merikur realized the alien was right. The last lines of the letter should have tipped him off. “My compliments regarding Commander Moskone. He seems just the sort of young officer to have around.”

Yeah, if you like spies. Oriana had thought of everything. The letter would set things in motion, Merikur would commit professional suicide, and Moskone would be there to witness the whole thing. Perhaps Moskone was part of the plan, or maybe he’d allowed himself to be used.