Opening Moves (65 page)

“Why not? Not every battle plan needs to be as long as a saga. The simple plans are often the best.” Corr'tane smiled thinly. “This world here sits at the junction of Érenni, Tuathaan and Komerco space and works as a conduit of raw materials, weapons and mercenaries for our enemies. Additionally, it possesses three foldspace corridors deeper into the Timocracy's space and two that'll allow us to open a second front against the Clanholds.”

Pryatan looked at the system's name. The Dominion's maps had it listed under an Érenni name: Emas Mutiara, the Golden Pearl. She had heard of it before.

“That system's officially under the protection of the Timocracy,” she pointed out.

“
Indeed, it is,” Corr'tane acknowledged. “Which is why I insisted the initial plans be amended. High Command had intended to depopulate the planet for recolonization. I voted against such a measure.” He caught Pryatan's expression and chuckled dryly. “Oh, I've not gone soft, but there's a time and a place for everything. On a pure numbers basis we've cleared enough real estate already for the home world's whole population, so there's quite frankly no more need to go around wiping out planetary populations. The whole business with the Érenni and the Tuathaan border colonies also has had the advantage of being somewhat remote, if we go by a model of a center and a periphery of galactic politics. Emas Mutiara, on the other hand, is a mercantile junction used by many more powers than just the ones involved in the war against us,” he explained. “It would be politically unwise to go in there, dropping bioweapons and neutron charges under the eyes of everyone. So I've lobbied for doing this the old fashioned route: a full planetary assault and occupation.”

Pryatan's eyes lit up, and Corr'tane hid a smile. He harbored no illusions about how most of the fleet's officers and the army's brass felt about a war waged with biologically engineered weapons and nuclear warheads designed to take out soft targets. In their minds the war he and the Council of Strategoi waged was a dirty war, a war with little honor. Not that any of them would have been stupid enough to voice these thoughts in the open. But he knew they were there. A part of him, the part that had been socialized by the fleet and the military, actually sympathized with their point of view. But the rest of him didn't. Their idea of a 'clean war' involved nuclear ground bursts and dropship invasions into enemy fire that would end up with thousands of soldiers wrapping their intestines around barbed wire as if they were feast day tinsel. There was nothing 'clean' about that, and he had only pushed for it out of sheer necessity.

“When do we move, sir?”

“
The forces of the 4
th
Field Army will meet up with us here within seven days. After that, it's another seven days to our target. In the meantime let's hope our intelligence does enough of a job on the Komerco to keep them on the sidelines.” Corr'tane sounded unconvinced, but he had developed a dislike for Tear'al that shadowed his view of the service the man led. “Playing them certainly does make for an interesting exercise. They are well skilled and motivated, and ton for ton their ships are a match for ours. In fact, theirs just might be a bit tougher than ours. Their forces are well balanced for offensive and defensive strategies. Fighting the Komerco should be our greatest challenge, but it won't be. We probably won't have to fight them at all. You know why? Divide and conquer.”

“
I don't fully understand, sir.”

“
It's really rather simple. Their weakness is not in their ships or tactics, but in their culture,” Corr'tane explained. Most strategoi didn't deign to talk to subordinates, let alone make casual conversation about their future battle plans, but Corr'tane – ironically mirroring some of the older fleet officers he quite often lambasted – had made it his goal to foster a good and working relationship with his flag officers, of whom Captain Pryatan was the most gifted. It was important to him to make sure his officers had a bond with each other and with him to guarantee their loyalty and willingness to obey seemingly random orders based on no more than faith. For Corr'tane, it was like being a teacher, though his sister had joked that he just liked the sound of his own voice.

“
The Timocracy is a system ruled by oligarchic populists and their corporate empires. In essence, much of their military is 'owned' by patricians representing different corporate interests. It's a system as much based on personal loyalties as it is on professional qualities. During peacetime that's not much of a problem. No corporation, no single man, or even clique of oligarchs is keen on letting pirates go unchecked. But in a real war, one where something actually is at stake? There is jealousy, there is rivalry, and there is betrayal. It's all rather delicious.” Corr'tane grinned, licking his canines. “Ironically, it seems Tear'al originally had the right idea, but applied it to the wrong people. You couldn't drive a wedge between the Tuathaan. But here? We will exploit these divisions in our next move, and they'll guarantee that the Timocracy is so busy bickering with one another they won't even think about confronting us.”

“
You want to try and sow some discord before we arrive?” Pryatan wondered aloud. “How?”

“
Greed and suspicion. Apparently Tear'al plans to leak evidence that several major Komerco defense contractors are doing some pretty neat business with us, effectively funding a war against members of the very pact the Timcoracy is a signatory to.”

“
Making them swallow that will be hard, sir.”

“
Quite the contrary, it'll be very easy. There's no fake evidence to be planted, Captain: we are doing business with many Komerco cartels. Through middlemen, yes, but ultimately it is we with whom they are dealing.”

“
And if it doesn't work?” Pryatan asked cautiously.

Corr'tane turned from her to look out into space again. Another cruiser passed by close to the station. “Then I hope the Timocracy thinks twice before picking a fight with me. Because they might start it, but I'll be the one to end it!”

The Pyramid, Chicago, North American Union, Earth.

With a stoic face, Director William Campbell watched the Secretary of State's speech to the Congress from a comfortable chair in his own office deep within the confines of the Union's heart of power. He didn't mind Randolph selling the diplomatic coup of sending a task force made up from ships of all three major powers to Tanith. In fact, that part of the equation did more to amuse him than annoy him. After all, it had been his and the Chinese head of intelligence's machinations that had brought about the very mission Randolph now was being applauded for by nearly all factions represented in the Congress, and the newsfeeds praised his level-headed approach for calming the waves between the Union, the Confederacy and the Alliance. The delicious irony in there also wasn't lost on Campbell, since SECSTATE had basically needed to be cattle-prodded into the position he now received accolades for.

But that was where the director's amusement stopped. He and his professional 'colleagues' had probably averted a development that would've led to a shooting war if it had been given further time to fester, but the alternative he now found himself saddled with wasn't any better. It was as if he had jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. Tanith was far away, but if something happened there, it would be just what Randolph's faction had been waiting for. He sighed and cut the circuit. The image of the SECSTATE vanished, leaving Campbell alone in his room. He loathed ideologues. Hopefully, this one's actions wouldn't cause the Union more trouble than it could handle...

“
The Road to Hell is Paved With Good Intentions.”

-   Proverb, Source Unknown

C H A P T E R  1 6

Freighter IRON MAIDEN

Tanith, Independent Star System, Pact of Ten Suns.

Late September, 2797 C.E.

After a time, the effects of war had a strange normalcy to them, as if every sapient species in known space was gifted with the same set of coping mechanisms for extraordinary situations. Tanith was no different. Though the vast refugee camps and the crowded streets and orbitals of the small mercantile nation state been chaotic and volatile only a few weeks ago, it had all settled down into a strange routine by now. The different camps had elected spokespeople for them to liaise with the local authorities, and the local government had finally gotten up to speed in securing a supply of basic necessities for the camps and refugee communities, if for no other reason than to combat crime and the danger of diseases. Érenni and Tuathaan and others the war had uprooted had gone from nuisances to offering their services in the local labor markets within a record time, too. So much, in fact, that local labor and craftsmen guilds had begun to protest against the dumping of prices for goods and services through the newcomers. Each city quarter had their own guilds competing with other quarters, and the unorganized newcomers were unwanted competition. It was interesting to follow the planetary newsfeeds and how the tone and content of their coverage had changed from war and refugee suffering to labor disputes and competition in the service industries.

For the crew of the IRON MAIDEN the change of dynamics had been a godsend. Llyr had been able to secure the services of half a dozen Tuathaan dock hands that had fled from Dunnan Gal. Working at a tenth of the cost for the same performance, the experienced technicians had replaced one of the bots and now, after two weeks, had returned ground-side, their pockets filled with credits and therefore the means to start anew while much of the damage to the MAIDEN had been repaired at a much lower cost than projected. Despite the grim background, it had turned out to be a win-win situation for all involved. Even the fighting along the front lines seemed to have died down during the past weeks. Maybe it all was getting back to normal. Aboard the small freighter nobody would have minded such a change for the better.

The newcomers also were a rather welcome sight for Tarek Winters and his motley crew.

“Well, that's rather neat,” he grinned as he climbed into the MAIDEN's cockpit-slash-bridge. “Pretty cool. When did they get here?”

“
They transitioned into N-space about ten minutes ago,” Rául explained, checking his sensors for the trio of decelerating ships. “Popped into existence like a miracle while you were heading back up here from ground side. Did you get those last parts, by the way?”

“
Yeah, we'll take Alexej back planet side to pick them up, make sure they're genuine items. But I'm rather confident. The trader we bought 'em from has delivered solid goods so far,” Tarek replied, still more focused on the sensor readings. “Now, there's a strange sight I never expected to see: a Union cruiser, an Allie destroyer and a Confed cruise liner. Almost sounds like the start of a bad joke.

“
The system's got the liner pegged as the STAR OF GRANADA. Used to be quite the luxury ferry, if the book's to be believed. The Allie tug's a typical missile hog. She can probably throw a hundred nukes at you within five seconds or less. Now, the cruiser? She's the JOHNSTON.
Leyte
-class heavy cruiser. Packs a neat punch for her size. Having her here makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

Annie's head had appeared in the small opening that led to the freighter's bridge.

“What are you, friggin'
Jane
's magazine?” Raúl rolled his eyes.

“
A girl's gotta know her toys,” she answered innocently.

“
At that speed, she'll reach orbit in about an hour and a half.” The navigator chose not to enter into a verbal sparring match with Annie. “Think we should say 'Hi'?” Rául asked. “Let them know there's an Earth ship here?”

“
Nah, let them just do their job,” Tarek shook his head. “If trouble breaks out we'll move closer to 'em. I'll feel better sheltering behind one of our cruisers than I would behind an alien ship.”

“
I doubt we're the only ship with humans on it out here anyway. They've probably already read our transponder,” Annie stated. “They know we're here.”

“
Out there.” Llyr suddenly entered the conversation. “That's got to be our fuel.” Their translator pointed at a sensor blip converging with the MAIDEN's orbit.

Tarek punched a button, activating the ship's LIDAR. A screen flickered and an image solidified. Tarek squinted and saw a tanker ship heading their way, a series of long pressurized tanks running along a narrow wire-frame hull marked with bright warnings. The remaining repair bot was still doing some work on the ship's engines, but getting her fueled up again was a good omen. With a bit of luck they'd be gone within a couple of days, heading home. Finally.