Cluster Command: Crisis of Empire II (2 page)

He smiled towards Merikur, as if to say, “It’s a lot of bureaucratic nonsense, but what else is new?” What he did say was, “Welcome Commander. After so many weeks spent badgering my staff for an appointment, I imagine you’re happy to be here.”

“It’s always good to get back to work Sir,” Merikur replied straight-faced.

“And work you shall, Commander.” Oriana looked down at his comp screen, cleared his throat, and read the official text. “Commander Merikur, you are to embark immediately for Harmony Cluster. Upon arrival there you will assume command of all Pact forces, and report to the governor of said cluster, Senator Anthony Windsor. You will obey Governor Windsor’s lawful orders, consistent with, and pursuant to, the laws, regulations and operating procedures set forth by Pact Command and known to you.” Oriana looked up and smiled. “Do you understand?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Good.” With just the ghost of a smile, the Admiral continued: “In keeping with your appointment, and its responsibilities, it is my pleasure to announce your promotion from Commander, Pact Naval Forces, to General, Pact Marine Corps. The full text of your orders is being downloaded to your AID.”

Like all officers, Merikur carried an Artificial Intelligence Device (AID) in his belt pouch. Besides the standard programming provided them at “birth,” AIDs could learn from experience, and sometimes developed rudimentary personalities. Merikur’s was almost fifteen standard years old and a bit irreverent. Annoying though it sometimes was, and rather too revelatory of some aspects of his own personality, Merikur’s AID was also very perceptive, and he couldn’t bring himself to wipe it and start all over. Besides, he liked the little bastard. Hearing itself mentioned, Merikur’s AID buzzed his auditory implant and said, “Orders received, your generalship!”

Admiral Oriana was like an echo. “Congratulations, General Merikur . . . and good luck with your new command!”

Merikur felt all sorts of conflicting emotions. The switch from naval to marine rank didn’t bother him, it was common enough, but from Commander to General in one jump! That was damned unusual and there was nothing in his record which would persuade a board to jump him an entire rank.

There was no time to think. The admiral was waiting. “Thank you Sir. I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure you will son, I’m sure you will,” Oriana said cheerfully. He stood and made his way down to the main floor. “Before you strap on those comets, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

The woman Merikur had noticed earlier approached and held out her hand. “Allow me to add my congratulations to those of the admiral. I’m Megan Ritt.”

“Yes,” Admiral Oriana added awkwardly, as if suddenly unsure of himself. “Citizen Ritt came all the way from Terra to brief you.”

Something cold settled in Merikur’s gut. Kona Tatsu. The Pact’s security service. And this one was working out of Terra HQ itself. He should have guessed from the uniform. The Kona Tatsu wore military uniforms without badges of rank, and went by the title “citizen,” although it understated their power.

Merikur felt a soft buzz in his ears and heard his implant say, “She’s toting enough shielded electronics to open a store. Chances are you’re being recorded in stereo.”

“Thank you. It’s an honor to meet you, Citizen Ritt. I trust you had a pleasant trip?”

“Quite pleasant, thank you. The navy was most accommodating.”

Merikur could imagine some poor captain sweating out the days and minutes until the spook left the ship. Was she really in transit to sector headquarters? Or was that a ploy? A cover story allowing her time to ferret out that equipment inventory the captain had fudged last year. Yes, most captains would be quite accommodating.

“Well then,” Admiral Oriana said with a conspiratorial wink, “I’ll leave you two alone. I’m sure you have all sorts of state secrets to discuss. Good luck, General. Wish I could go out and bust a few heads with you . . . but there’s damned little chance of that. Too much data shuffling to do. Citizen Ritt, it’s been a pleasure. Let Perkins know if I can help.”

“Thank you, Admiral, I will.”

“Very good.” With that, the admiral departed.

Merikur felt abandoned. Oriana represented the military, which Merikur understood and liked; Ritt represented other things, dark and political. State secrets? What the hell was going on?

“If you’ll follow me, General, I took the liberty of reserving a conference room.”

Ritt made no attempt at polite conversation as they walked down the gleaming hall. Was it intentionally disconcerting, or just a natural expression of her personality? Either way he grew more worried with every step he took. Like most line officers, Merikur distrusted spooks.

“Here we are,” Ritt said, motioning him through an open door. “Please take a chair.”

Merikur gave the conference room a quick once over as he did so. The room was paneled in richly waxed wood, and outside of the circular table and four chairs which floated at its center, the room was empty.

Once they’d both taken their seats, Ritt looked at him and smiled. Suddenly he realized her eyes were very, very blue. “I hope I don’t scare you,” she purred.

“Not at all,” Merikur lied.

“I’m glad to hear it. If you don’t mind I’ll get right to business. Time, as they say, is short. By now you’ve figured out that your situation is somewhat unusual.”

“Yes ma’am.”
Even before the Kona Tatsu started to brief me.

Through steepled fingers she said, “Tell me, General: how would you describe the Pact’s overall political situation and prospects for the future? And please, be frank. This conversation is completely off the record.”

Merikur felt his implant buzz softly. “Her AID is jamming my scan mode. Assume she’s recording every word.”

Merikur wasn’t surprised. Since his opinions could easily be ferreted out, he decided to be frank; his views were widely held and far from treasonous. He shrugged. “The Pact stopped expanding hundreds of years ago. Entire clusters have slipped outside of Pact rule. Multi-planet conglomerates, corporate combines, and aliens are all vying for power. In a few hundred years, a thousand at most, the Pact will collapse into anarchy.”

Ritt nodded, regarding him from under long lashes. “Succinctly put, General; and in the opinion of many social and political scientists, absolutely correct. The question is, what should we do about it?”

Merikur decided to take a chance. “Things seem pretty stable for the moment. Why not just do our jobs and hope something better rises from the ashes?”

Ritt leaned forward. “It’s a possibility. But what if something ugly rises from the ashes instead? And what about the pain and suffering while the Pact slowly disintegrates into chaos?”

Her blue eye sparkled. God help him. A fanatic as well as a spook!

“The Pact
can
be saved,” she said, “if we have the courage to do so.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Merikur answered. “I’ve devoted my life to its defense.”

Her features softened. “It was never my intention to imply otherwise, General. Forgive my display of emotion. As you can see I feel quite strongly about this subject. Tell me, what do you know about Senator Windsor?”

Merikur tried to think. Senator Windsor. The man whose orders he’d obey in the Harmony Cluster. Things had moved so fast he hadn’t had time to think about his new boss.

The name was vaguely familiar. From the news no doubt, but Merikur couldn’t remember more than that. “Nothing much. By definition he’s a member of a senatorial family and therefore rich and powerful.”

“Quite correct,” Ritt said. “He’s also young, handsome, and something of a radical.”

Did Merikur detect just a trace of wistfulness as she said the last? Maybe not, she was dry and matter-of-fact when she continued. “It’s that last quality we’re here to discuss, General. In most things you’ll find the senator is quite conservative. Most agree that he’s an excellent administrator. It’s in the area of human, or should I say non-human relations that his ideas become radical.”

“Radical? In what way?”

Ritt smiled and examined a perfect nail. “Senator Windsor believes in full equality for aliens.”

Merikur was astounded. Senator Windsor an alien sympathizer? Damn! How was he supposed to work for a man like that? Aloud he said,
“
Full equality. Why would anyone advocate full equality? Especially a senator. Even if it’s legal, isn’t it political suicide?”

Ritt looked toward the ceiling for a moment. “That’s a good question. If Senator Windsor were here, he might answer this way.”

Now she glared at the naval officer, angry perhaps, certainly hard and determined. “For the last few hundred years we’ve used aliens to prop up our economy,” she continued. “First as a market for our goods, and then as cheap labor to produce those goods. Increasingly they do the jobs we won’t. The hard, dangerous jobs and the jobs we regard as servile. Meanwhile we think we’re on top, in control.”

“We
are
in control,” Merikur said, too amazed to let it pass.

“We are
not
in control,” Ritt snapped. “With each passing year we become more and more dependent on their knowledge, their skills, and their numbers. So dependent that many economists wonder if we could survive without them. Meanwhile we deny them home rule, representation in our senate, or any other participation in government.”

She paused, but her eyes continued to hold Merikur.

“Yes, citizen,” he said calmly, embarrassed by his previous outburst, and more than a little concerned. Even generals couldn’t contradict the Kona Tatsu. Not safely anyhow.

Ritt relaxed a little. “So if he were here, the senator would say we have two choices. We can either reduce our dependence on the aliens, removing them from every aspect of our economy, or we can grant them full citizenship. And that’s what Senator Windsor thinks we should do. In order to revitalize the Pact, he believes we must fully integrate human and non-human races.”

Aliens, no matter how smelly or ugly, as
equals?
It went against everything he’d been taught, but Merikur had to admit there was certain logic to the senator’s position. Military officers weren’t encouraged to question the status quo; but Merikur had a good mind, and the senator’s arguments, at least as presented by this deadly woman, meshed perfectly with his own observations.

“I presume,” Merikur said, choosing his words carefully, “that others disagree. What do they say?”

“That the senator is a fool,” Ritt replied coolly. “Many won’t even admit there’s a problem, and those who do would rather dismantle the economy than share power with the aliens. They point out that many alien races have higher birth rates than we do. If we grant them full citizenship today, they’ll take over tomorrow; and
we’ll
be the oppressed minority.”

“So which viewpoint is correct?”

Ritt shrugged. “I don’t know. No one does. But the consensus is that Senator Windsor should be allowed to experiment. If his theories work in Harmony Cluster perhaps the senate will follow. Ironic name, that. Harmony.”

“Yes,” Merikur replied thoughtfully, “it is. A lot of people won’t like this experiment.”

She nodded soberly. “That’s why we gave him a general. A
reliable
general.”

“But that’s not the only reason, is it?”

Ritt shook her head. “No, it isn’t. We want Senator Windsor to have his chance, but there are potential problems. There are a lot of Cernian laborers in the Harmony Cluster, and the Cernian Federation has taken an ‘interest’ in their well-being. That interest has increased along with the size of the Cernian fleet. What if they assault the cluster? Will Windsor order you to fight? Or would he try to let them take it in an effort to further alien-human ‘equality’?”

Merikur suddenly found himself faced with the prospect of every officer’s nightmare: conflicting orders, with treason or mutiny the only options.

The Cernians were a powerful race whose home-worlds had been able to fend off the Pact during its expansive phase. So far they’d avoided an out-and-out challenge to Pact forces, but what if they chose Harmony Cluster as the place to test the Pact’s strength and resolve? After all, Windsor was a nut who
liked
aliens. He might hesitate to fight, or worse, order Merikur not to while he pretended to “negotiate.”

To disobey Windsor could end his career, and given what Ritt had just said, the reverse was also true. Pact Command was using him as a safety, a means of making sure that Windsor wasn’t allowed to do irreparable damage while carrying out his social experiments. “You realize this places me in a very difficult position.”

“Yes,” she replied without a trace of sympathy. “I do. But I agree with Admiral Oriana. You’re the right man for the job. And things aren’t as bad as they seem. Once Windsor gets to know you, he’ll keep his enthusiasms under control. With an entire fleet at your command, he’ll have little choice.”

Merikur knew he was being had, but he felt complimented just the same. “Well, that remains to be seen, doesn’t it, Citizen Ritt? In any case, you’ve been frank, and for that I thank you.” He cleared his throat. “I assume that’s all?”

“Well, there is one other thing,” Ritt said, leaning back in her chair, and allowing an amused expression to play across her lips.

“Oh yes? What’s that?”

“The senator’s niece.”

Merikur looked a question.

“You’re going to marry her.”

Chapter 2

The moment Merikur and Ritt left the conference room Snyder opened a rear service door and slipped inside. If someone was still there he’d offer them coffee and tea. But the room was empty so his cover story went unused.

The Dreed’s long robes swished as they dragged across plush carpet. Running a spatulate three-fingered hand across the underside of the table he found a tiny bump. The small recording device had gone unnoticed. It was just as the voice said it would be. The woman was so confident of the anti-bugging devices hidden beneath her clothing that she hadn’t even bothered to search the room.

Snyder popped the little device into a pouch and zipped the pouch into an inner pocket. He sometimes wondered who his employers were. Since he was never allowed to meet them face-to-face, he’d never know.