Troy Rising 2 - Citadel (44 page)

When Beor was recruited to the Kazi—and almost anyone who volunteered without being recruited was turned down—she thought she understood its structure. The Kazi was covered in school and considered a normal and necessary part of Rangora society. It was easy to stray from the path of true fealty to the Emperor. Life was hard and stray thought was natural. The Kazi ensured that thought did not become word and word did not become action and action did not become habit. The Kazi was everywhere, ensuring that while life was sacrifice to the Emperor, the sacrifice did not become too great. They were the quality assurance of the Rangora. The gardeners of the finest race in the galaxy.

The current assignment was not straining her credulity simply because she had lost her illusions long ago but retained her fealty. That was what the Kazi recruited for and why they didn't take volunteers.

“ZiDavas,” Beor said, sitting down and trying not to sigh in relief. She knew she wasn't safe in any cosmic sense. But if you made it to the point of sitting down, you hadn't been shot in the back of the head as you stepped through the door or never made it or got shot standing there, you were safe enough. You were, at the least, out of the cold.

It was tacitly known in the offices that she was Kazi. Which was why the only person who spoke with her was To'Jopeviq. That was fine, she was used to that. It was the worrying that someone was going to stick a knife in her back because they'd been taking home data crystals to use in their home system and thought she was “onto them” that always worried her. She really, really didn't give a loff. She took them home, too.

But too many “open” agents had been killed because somebody was afraid they were going to get taken to reeducation for petty peculation. Getting killed because someone was contemplating mutiny or treason? Breaks of the game. Because somebody was having sex with his secretary? It just wasn't something you wanted on your memorial chip.

If you made it to sitting down in your control's office, absent mutiny or treason, you were probably going to make it through the next few minutes with nothing more than maybe a chewing out.

Relief.

“Verbal only,” ZiDavas said. He wasn't going to comment on her expression simply because he knew what she was feeling. You didn't get to the guarded office without having been in the cold. “A fleet of Glatun battleships fought its way from near Glatus into the Terra system. The ship that made it may have been carrying something of importance. The other ships often sacrificed themselves to protect it.”

“Upgraded designs, AI codes . . .” Beor said. “It could even have been carrying some of the Benefactors. Any of which would make the Terran system more difficult.”

“How difficult?” ZiDavas asked.

“Our intelligence is almost entirely in the negative,” Beor said. “And although I know its importance, I am almost sick to death of listening to the arguing. Cogent arguing often but arguing nonetheless.”

“I would not consider it of supreme importance,” ZiDavas said. “While commending you on your diligence.”

“With respect, DeArch,” Beor said. “If you mean the security of the Empire's core worlds . . . perhaps not of supreme importance. If you mean unimportant in the grand scheme, I wish to respectfully disagree.”

“Make your . . . argument,” ZiDavas said, bobbing his head.

“The first point I must make is that this is solely my opinion,” Beor said. “And flies in the face of most of the opinions expressed by the working group. But . . . I believe that is because they share a lack of belief in the data they are analyzing.”

“Are you saying they question the intelligence they are provided?” ZiDavas asked. “It is, at least in part, from the Kazi. It becomes almost a question of their belief in the Empire.”

“No,” Beor said. "They believe the intelligence they are given. What little we have and that is not a censure but reality. Let me rephrase. They do not believe their own analyses. Terra, a politically divided, down to the very politics of their main polity, relatively primitive, low-efficiency planet. It is not designed as an industrial world. It has no gravitics. It has primitive space flight. This is the condition on first contact. It is almost immediately made a satrap by the Horvath and goes into even greater stagnation. This is the condition as of seventeen years ago. The satrapy is broken. Terra begins to take its minor place on the interplanetary stage.

“By rights, by every record of more-or-less similar cultures, it should take Terra some one hundred years to advance to the point of being a major culture.”

“Agreed,” ZiDavas said. “Similar to the Rangora, the Horvath, those useless pigs, even the Glatun.”

“Consider the history of the Rangora,” Beor said, bobbing her head in excitement. “Consider what would have happened if sixteen Glatun battleships entered the Rangora system seventeen years after we first stepped upon the stage.”

“We would have . . .” ZiDavas said, rocking back and forth. “I was about to say we would have defeated them. But that was an automatic answer. The truth is . . . I am unsure of the exact details of that period of history.”

“As am I,” Beor said. The details of Rangora history were known to be blurred. “But I strongly doubt, even by what our betters present, that the Rangora could have stopped such attacks.”

“The Terrans had significant support from the Glatun,” ZiDavas said. “We know this. You saw the report.”

“And could the Rangora have put such support into effect in seventeen years?” Beor said. “I am not questioning the value of our race, you understand . . .”

“No,” ZiDavas said. “You are making an interesting point. Go on.”

“I have been looking at this and looking,” Beor said. “I see what was done and it makes sense. And it even looks easy. We could, with some work, make similar constructions as defenses against attack should we need them. But . . . Given their starting point, to get to the point we knew they were at at the point that we lost contact, their advancements would have required an Imperial Project if the Rangora started from the same point.”

“Are you sure?” ZiDavas said, uncomfortably. Imperial Projects were only used for the very largest constructions and absorbed huge percentages of the Rangora GDP.

“That model was done and it's solid,” Beor said. “That's the point where the arguments really started. With the exception of Troy most of the defenses of the system are really infrastructure projects. They are civilian not military. Now we are trying to tease out their possible capacity for war-making. Beyond ‘what do we need to take the Terran system.' If you plug in that model . . . No one believes the analysis.”

“Which is?” ZiDavas said.

“That within five years, Terra will be unconquerable by the Rangora,” Beor said. “That within ten it will be a strategic threat. In twenty it will be impossible for the Rangora to stop if it takes an aggressive posture.”

ZiDavas contemplated her for a moment as if assessing her sanity.

“I don't believe that analysis, either,” the DeArch said.

“And here is where, with the knowledge of what it means, I must confess a loss of faith,” Beor said. “I do.”

“You were tasked to observe and liaise with the working group,” ZiDavas said. “Not be an analyst. But I would have your thoughts on why.”

“I could not fully replicate the model,” Beor said. “But to the extent that I could I did so. And I could find no fault. Again, seventeen years after full independence, using very little in the way of advanced Glatun technology, they defeated a major task force. Not one ship returned from the system. Using mostly their own technological concepts. The fleet was not defeated by the ships they were creating using copied Glatun techniques. It was defeated by an insanely large battlestation and a mining laser. A mining laser that, following the progression based on last update, is only going to grow to such levels as to make the system essentially unconquerable. They had to have had access to Glatun military mirrors to be able to defeat the Aggressors that handily. With such access, the present laser can defeat any shield except an Assault Vector and it is possible that even AVs could be defeated simply by the SAPL . . .” She paused, realizing that she was like anything but the cool and distant Kazi agent.

“You believe the analysis given to High Command to be accurate?” ZiDavas said.

“Perhaps understated,” Beor said.

“Then you should find this interesting,” ZiDavas said, handing her a data pad.

Beor contemplated it for a moment and then looked very puzzled.

“Permission to speak frankly, DeArch?”

“Permitted,” ZiDavas said. “Within reason.”

“I understood the purpose of the previous attack,” Beor said. “Using the planned loss of a few Aggressors to remove a potential threat to the Imperium was completely comprehensible. But this plan . . .” She paused, clearly trying to puzzle out the purpose.

“Beor,” ZiDavas said. “Your occasional enthusiasms not withstanding, you have the makings of a very good Kazi. But I would give you a piece of professional counseling.”

“DeArch?”

“Sometimes it is simply not worth trying to figure out the purposes of the Kazim. Things you are not to know. Things you don't want to know.”

“Star Marshall,” To'Jopeviq said, looking at the plan. His voice was somewhat lower in register than normal. The Rangora hissed and shrieked before attacking. Going lower was a sign of distress, not anger.

“This is . . . below our best case estimate.”

“Yes, it is somewhat below the projection,” Star Marshall Lhi'Kasishaj said. “But plenty of power for the purpose. The Assault Vectors are the most powerful ships ever created. We will be able to defeat this Troy with ease.”

To'Jopeviq decided not to point out that he was a veteran of such assaults. He knew exactly how powerful an AV was. And exactly how much power it took to overcome one. The Star Marshall was not nearly as confident as normal, To'Jopeviq couldn't help but notice.

“You do not have full control of the battle,” To'Jopeviq noted.

“I will be . . . observed by High Marshall Lho'Phirukuh,” Lhi'Kasishaj said, distastefully. “There is no question as to my full capacity to lead, you understand. It is simply that the Marshall was somewhat . . . stung by the previous defeat of the Aggressor fleet. There was some strenuous argument, but he insisted. And in the end, Command acquiesced.”

“Star Marshall . . .” To'Jopeviq said then paused. He understood Beor's rationales for the last debacle. He had even managed, quelling decades of training, to come to a weak agreement. If the High Command saw it necessary to sacrifice sixteen Aggressors to keep the Empire from going through another civil war, so be it.

In this case, though, he was in an impossible position. Not only was the attack likely to fail, probably losing more than one Assault Vector, but the person most likely to be blamed was his own patron.

“Star Marshall,” To'Jopeviq repeated. “I must strongly recommend that you do not accept this position absent heavier forces. These numbers are simply untenable given any reasonable estimate of the Terran forces.”

“There are things you don't know, To,” the Star Marshall said. “Things you are not supposed to know but I don't suppose there is any harm in telling you. Things are not going quite as well as they appear. Five Glatun systems were never conquered by our forces. Two surrendered on orders from the new Council of Benefactors. Three still hold out. Those take priority. They must be reduced before more Vectors can be made available.”

“Then we should wait to attack Earth until there is sufficient force,” To'Jopeviq said, trying to contain his surprise. Although everyone knew the news was only a guideline, such a huge cover-up was bound to be common knowledge sooner or later. And that could present some large problems for High Command.

“That was not the decision of Command,” Lhi'Kasishaj said, bobbing his head. “And we are Rangora warriors, yes? So we follow our orders.”

“Very well, Star Marshall,” To'Jopeviq said. “In this life we are dead. We are sacrifices to the glory of the Emperor.”

“I will see you when I return!” Lhi'Kasishaj said, suddenly his old self. “And we will celebrate my victory!”

“I look forward to it, Star Marshall.”

✺ ✺ ✺

“This is . . . quite an assembly,” Gorku said.

The room, as usual with Troy, was vast. Also cold. The two financiers were wearing cold-weather coats against the chill. They didn't need suits because, unusually for something this large, it was pressurized.

“It was a bit hard to start,” Tyler said. “But once we got going it got easier.”

The room was filled with rack upon rack of cubicles cut from the walls of Troy. Each cubicle contained one free-standing power system of various outputs and a laser emitter of matching output.

Arrayed through the racks were interconnected steel pipes ranging from a hand span across to, towards the end, the size of a major water main. Each of the small pipes was connected to a laser emitter. A couple of angles and it was connected to a larger pipe. And larger and larger. Except for the occasional plate of sapphire in the sides, that was it looked like a sewer system. There were, in fact, more pipes than emitters. And more were being installed as the two magnates watched, a continuous flow of pipes being lifted into place, aligned then welded. Just as more emitters were being lifted into place, connected to power systems, connected to pipes . . .

“How much power?” Gorku asked.

“As of this morning . . . ?” Tyler said. “Nine hundred and eighty three terawatts. Not a patch on SAPL but pretty good. With the new workers, we're increasing the rate of installation. That's always the bottleneck.”

“Where are they all coming from?” Gorku asked, walking over to one of the closer cubicles and examining the emitter. It was large. One of the largest he'd ever seen. “This is a Rangora emitter!”

“Main gun emitter from an Aggressor,” Tyler said, gesturing to several of the local systems. The big ones were on the deck level. “We were only able to acquire four of those in good enough shape to use, unfortunately. But as soon as Hephaestus and Granadica finish Fabber Three we're going to install Hephaestus in the Troy and he'll have a primary job of making heavy emitters. Those three . . .” Tyler said, gesturing to another cluster, “are Glatun designs. The main gun emitters from Deudoc dreadnoughts. Ninety terawatts apiece. Very nice.”