Shadow of Freedom-eARC (47 page)

And considering how much Trifecta’s invested in Lombroso, Frolov obviously thinks he’s entitled to a better return. I’ll bet he hasn’t been shy about making that point, either. Funny how much more enthusiastic about “taking the fight to the terrorists” he was when all it was likely to do was get Guernicke killed, isn’t it?

“All we have to do is hold them until the gendarmes get here,” she said out loud. “I’m going to hit them as hard as I can anywhere I can in the meantime, and I think there’s a damned good chance we’ll be able to handle this on our own,” she added with rather less than total truthfulness, “but in the final analysis, all we
really
have to do is hold them. If the first batch of gendarmes doesn’t do the trick, Governor Verrocchio and Brigadier Yucel will send in however many reinforcements they have to. Do you really think either of them wants Trifecta screaming for their blood to OFS headquarters, Mister President?” She smiled unpleasantly. “This is going to turn into the best chance we’ve ever had to burn out the infection once and for all, Sir, and all
we
have to do is hold them.”

* * *

“What’s the latest from Lewiston?”

Michael Breitbach looked exhausted and his shoulders sagged with fatigue. His voice was pretty much gone, too, but his eyes were still focused and intent as he asked the question, and Kayleigh Blanchard checked her notepad display.

“Segovia says his people are making good progress now,” she replied. “They’ve got over half the city and they’re moving in on Beaver Run Heights. He says that once they take out the satellite police station there, they should be able to start sending additional manpower to us here in Landing. He—”

She broke off as her com beeped at her. She listened intently for several seconds, then nodded with a grunt of satisfaction and looked back at Breitbach.

“That was Leamington. She says her people have hacked the Guard’s satellite feeds. She doesn’t know how long she’ll be able to stay in the system, but for right now we’ve got access to their recon birds right along with them.”

“Good, Kayleigh. Good!” Breitbach managed a weary smile, but there was worry—a lot of worry—in those focused eyes, and Blanchard looked a question at him.

“All of that sounds good,” he told her after a moment, “but I’m not sure it’s good enough.” He shook his head, looking down at the map displayed on the terminal in front of him. “We needed to get deeper quicker here in Landing. Even with Leamington getting into their recon, we just aren’t deep enough, and I’m not sure were going to get there, either.”

“But we’re winning in almost all of the outer cities,” she pointed out. “And practically the entire farm belt’s come in on our side.”

“I know.” He nodded. “And I know they’re going to be a hell of a lot more cautious before they try any more of those air assaults.” He showed his teeth in a vicious smiled. The Presidential Guard had lost twenty-three sting ships and nineteen counter-grav transports trying to reinforce Brazelton. Now that they’d discovered that the MLF had modern impeller wedge SAMs, they were unlikely to try that again—not without far better EW capabilities than any of their antiquated equipment boasted, anyway! He savored the memory of that moment, but then his smile faded and he shook his head once more.

“I know,” he repeated more softly, “but even Lombroso’s always recognized that Landing’s the real key. There are eight and a half
million
people in Landing and the suburbs, not to mention the main planetary spaceport, the Guard’s central barracks, Trifecta’s entire planetary headquarters complex—and staff—and most of the SUPP’s core membership and
all
of its leadership. If we’re going to claim that we control the planet, which makes us the legitimate—or at least the de facto—system government, we’ve got to hold Landing. And you can bet your ass that as long as Lombroso and Trifecta hold it,
they’re
going to claim to be the legitimate government. And, frankly, we need it for its hostage value.”

“
Hostage
value?” Blanchard looked at him in shock.

One thing he’d always insisted upon was that the MLF had to target legitimate objectives and do its level best to hold collateral civilian casualties to an absolute minimum. He’d even successfully opposed the demands of some of his rank and file that the Liberation Front go after anyone who did business with Trifecta. She knew part of that was a cold calculation that the MLF had to avoid providing any grist for SINS’ “independent newsies’” efforts to label it a terrorist organization. But she also knew that another part of it—probably the
greater
part of it—was his personal hatred for the Lombroso régime’s policy of ruling by terror and atrocity.

“I’m not planning on shooting people in the street, Kayleigh,” he said wearily. “But there’s a quantitative difference between Landing and any of the other cities, even Laurent.” Laurent, Mobius’ second-largest city, had a population of almost two and a half million. None of the planet’s other cities topped three hundred thousand. “Lombroso—or the frigging gendarmes, when they get here—could take out twenty or thirty cities the size of Brazelton and Lewiston combined without killing as many people as live in Landing all by itself. And don’t think for a moment that Frolov doesn’t recognize that, too. I want us holding Landing when the gendarmes get here because I doubt even OFS is going to be willing to take out eight and a half million revenue-producing Trifecta helots with an orbital strike. Not when they know how all the other transstellars are going to react to that kind of threat to
their
bottom lines. And the longer they hesitate to take us out from orbit, the longer we’ve got for the Manties to come riding over the hyper limit in the proverbial nick of time.”

Blanchard looked at him for several more moments, and then she nodded slowly.

“I guess there’s hostage value and then there’s
hostage
value,” she said.

“Exactly.” Breitbach turned his attention back to the map display and squared his sagging shoulders. “And maybe I’m wrong.” He sounded as if he were willing confidence and fresh determination back into his voice. “Maybe we can get deep enough quick enough, especially with Leamington getting us inside their recon. And if Segovia really can free up some additional manpower soon enough.” He smiled grimly. “And even if we can’t take the entire city, I damn well
guarantee
we’ll manage to kill enough more of the bastards to make sure any of them who are still alive remember us for a long, long time.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Yes, Augustus? What can I do for you this morning?” Dame Estelle Matsuko, Baroness Medusa, asked with a smile.

The expression felt a bit strange, but not because she wasn’t happy to see the face on her com. Although there’d been a time when Augustus Khumalo hadn’t been her favorite person, those days were gone. It was just a bit hard to find a lot of things to smile about in the wake of the dispatches which had finally reached Spindle two T-days ago. Close to two million dead—two million
more
dead—even if most of them were from the other side, and confirmation that the Star Empire truly was at war with the Solarian League, wasn’t the sort of news that made someone want to turn handsprings of delight.

Still, it’s better than having the two million dead on
our
side, which is what those Solly bastards had in mind
, she reminded herself grimly.
And at least the Solarian League’s present management obviously can’t find its own backside with both hands. That’s a two-edged sword, since it means they’re unlikely as hell to realize the
smart
move would be to rethink their policies and let both of us back away from a war that’s going to get God only knows how many more people killed. But if they’re bullheaded and arrogant enough to keep right on pushing harder, instead—and it looks an awful lot like they are—then thank God they’re at least
incompetent
about it! And having Haven—
Haven!—
on our side for a change is a lot better than a kick in the head, too
.

“Good morning, Milady,” Admiral Khumalo responded. “Sorry to disturb you this early, but I’ve just received dispatches from Admiral Gold Peak.” There was something a little peculiar about his tone, Medusa thought. “Under the circumstances, I thought I should probably share them with you as soon as possible.”

“Is there a problem?” she asked, her smile fading.

“Not any immediate problem, no,” he replied. “But it’s definitely something we’re going to have to deal with, probably in the not too distant future. And I guarantee you you’re going to think it was as…unexpected as I did.”

“I’d feel a lot better without that qualifier, ‘immediate.’ And I’m not all that fond of ‘unexpected,’ now that I think about it,” she said sourly. He nodded, and she sighed. “Should I roust out Joachim or Henri for this?”

“At the moment, I think this is more of a matter for your Imperial Governor persona than for anybody in the Talbott Quadrant,” Khumalo said after a moment’s thought. “It may be appropriate for you to bring them in later—in fact, I think it probably will be—but for right now I think you should hear about this yourself before you decide what else to do.”

“You’re not making me feel any happier here, Augustus,” she said dryly as she tapped a command to open her daily calendar in a window in the corner of the com display. “I’ve got just under an hour and a half clear, starting now,” she told him. “Can you get here in that window? And if you can, should I see about clearing the rest of the morning?”

“I can be there in thirty minutes,” he replied. “As to how long this is going to take, in some ways your guess is as good as mine. It
could
take a while, though.”

“Wonderful. Should I ask Gregor to sit in?”

“Actually, I think that would be a very good idea. As a matter of fact, with your permission, I think it might be a good idea for me to bring along Loretta and Ambrose, as well.”

“Fine. In that case I’ll see you here in Government House in half an hour.”

* * *

Admiral Khumalo, his chief of staff, and his senior intelligence officer actually arrived in barely twenty minutes. In fact, Gregor O’Shaughnessy had reached Medusa’s office less than five minutes before the three naval officers were ushered through its door. He and Medusa stood to greet the newcomers, and the baroness’ eyes narrowed in speculation as she spotted the fourth member of Khumalo’s party. The one the admiral had somehow forgotten to mention to her might be coming.

The stranger was a civilian, and a supremely unremarkable looking one. His sandalwood complexion was perhaps a shade darker than Medusa’s own, his hair and his eyes were brown, and he was of average height. A Solarian by his dress, but not a Core Worlder; his standard upper-mid-level bureaucrat’s outfit was at least six or seven T-years out of date by Core World standards. Probably a fairly senior local employed in a managerial role by one of the transstellars doing business in the Shell, she thought.

And just what exactly does Augustus think he’s doing bringing a Solarian civilian into my office?

The thought was not a happy one, but she donned her politician’s face and smiled in welcome.

“Augustus. Captain Shoupe, Commander Chandler. Good to see you. And this would be—?”

She let the question hover and cocked her head at the Solarian.

“This is Mr. Ankenbrandt, Madame Governor,” Khumalo supplied. “And to be honest, he’s the reason for this meeting.”

“I beg your pardon?” Despite herself, Medusa’s response carried a sharp edge of surprise, and Khumalo gave her a slightly apologetic smile.

“Mr. Ankenbrandt arrived with a coded dispatch from Admiral Gold Peak, Milady,” he explained. “I’ve had my crypto section verify it, and it’s definitely from the Admiral. It explains why she sent Mr. Ankenbrandt on to speak to us, but she suggested—and I think it was a good suggestion—that you should talk to him yourself before reading her own report. I think she’d like you to form your own first impressions without any prior influence from her.”

“Well, that all sounds suitably mysterious,” Medusa said a bit tartly, then gazed at Ankenbrandt for several seconds. Despite his somewhat mouse-like initial impression, he looked back without flinching. Not that he wasn’t nervous; she could see that. But he concealed well.

“Very well, Mr. Ankenbrandt, I’ll listen to what you have to say. Why don’t we all be seated first though?”

Everyone found a chair, and the baroness sat back comfortably behind her desk.

“One thing I should add before we begin, Madame Governor,” Khumalo said. She looked at him, and he shrugged. “Admiral Gold Peak personally interviewed Mr. Ankenbrandt before sending him on to us. I thought you should know she did so with a treecat present.”

Medusa’s almond eyes narrowed for a moment, then she nodded.

“Very well,” she said again, then turned her attention back to Ankenbrandt. “Why don’t you start, Mr. Ankenbrandt?”

* * *

“My God, Admiral. Couldn’t you give us just a
little
warning before dropping something like that on us again?” O’Shaughnessy demanded acidly the better part of two hours later.

Medusa’s senior intelligence analyst was a lifelong civilian who had never been a huge fan of military intelligence before joining her own staff. Over the last few years he’d learned to get along better than he ever had before with his uniformed colleagues, but there were moments when he backslid. And it was seldom helpful when he did, the baroness thought acerbically, since he tended to engage his mouth before his brain when that happened. Which was a pity, since he really did have a very
good
brain when he remembered to use it.

“If I may remind you, Gregor,” she said, intervening before Khumalo could respond, “the Admiral specifically told us when he introduced Mr. Ankenbrandt that
Admiral Gold Peak
wanted us to form our own initial impressions cold. I happen to think that was a good idea on her part, but whether it was or not, he’d made it very clear before we ever began why he hadn’t pre-briefed either of us on it.”

O’Shaughnessy colored at the unmistakable frost in the Governor’s tone. He started to say something, then made himself stop, and his nostrils flared as he drew a deep breath.