The Oncoming Storm (53 page)

2181–2358—UN Survey Service locates an additional five hundred worlds within months or years of Earth. (Hyperspace travel times are picking up as the monitoring service is expanded and technology for FTL communications is improved.) Worlds are settled by corporate-backed development companies, religious groups, artificial societies, and ethnic groups keen to preserve some element of their pre-space nature. UN assumes full responsibility for governing Earth and the Sol System, then starts expanding its claims over the first settled worlds.

2250—Tyre is settled by Tyre Development Corporation.

2291—Tyre Development Corporation folds into the Kingdom of Tyre (actually, a veneer over a state dominated by multiple corporations). Tyre rapidly establishes its own shipbuilding industry, intending to cash in on the growing demand for colony starships of all shapes and sizes. King Thomas is crowned; establishment of House of Lords and House of Commons. The Royal Tyre Navy is founded.

2359–2367—The Breakaway Wars/Breakdown. The UN attempts to assert control over various more productive colony worlds, claiming an overall right to rule mankind. Unsurprisingly, the colonies do not accept this argument and eight years of increasingly bitter fighting breaks out. In the end, rebel factions bombard Earth, only to see their homeworlds bombarded in turn. UN authority effectively ends; navigational service terminates, either through war damage or as part of the general collapse.

2366—Tyre formally declares independence from Earth. This is largely a formality, as Tyre was never in serious danger during the Breakaway Wars.

2369—The Royal Tyre Navy provides assistance to Gamma Orion, a nearby colony world, against raiders. With the concurrence of the monarchy, the Lords, and the Commons, the RTN starts rebuilding parts of the navigational network, patrolling local hyperspace, suppressing raiders, and reopening contact with other colony worlds. Local business people soon follow, intent on building up new trading networks to replace those destroyed by the war.

2370—Gamma Orion formally requests annexation by Tyre.

2372—After a bitter debate, Tyre founds the Commonwealth of Tyre. Gamma Orion is the first out-system member state.

2373–2390—The Commonwealth expands to claim fifty-seven star systems, most of which are grateful to join the Commonwealth. Those that aren’t are kept outside the Commonwealth’s Free Trade Zone.

2389—Hadrian, Prince of Tyre, is born.

2391—Kat Falcone is born on Tyre. She is the youngest daughter of Duke Lucas Falcone.

2397—Cadiz is rediscovered by the Commonwealth. Its rulers choose to decline the offer of membership.

2399—The Commonwealth’s traders make first contact with Ahura Mazda, another multisystem successor state. Worryingly, it rapidly becomes clear that Ahura Mazda is a theocracy—and expanding rapidly towards the Commonwealth. Worlds are being forced into its grasp without being offered a chance to resist. Prince Hadrian (more accurately, the courtiers surrounding him) is one of the strongest voices demanding preparations for war.

2402—After a long debate, the Commonwealth determines that Cadiz is in a position of vital importance for any possible war. The War Hawks insist that Cadiz be annexed by the Commonwealth, even though it is a breach of the Commonwealth’s previous determination never to force anyone into its fold. Eventually, after much horse-trading, Cadiz is formally annexed on a very flimsy basis. Unsurprisingly, despite sincere offers of technical support, an insurgency breaks out on the surface within months.

2408—Kat Falcone attends Piker’s Peak, the RTN Academy.

2409—There are a number of “incidents” along the border with Ahura Mazda. Although the diplomats eventually sort out a workable border, intelligence believes that the insurgents on Cadiz are receiving assistance from Ahura Mazda.

2412—Kat Falcone graduates from Piker’s Peak as a lieutenant. She is assigned to CL HMS Thomas.

2413—King Travis dies. Prince Hadrian assumes the throne.

2414—CL HMS Thomas is attacked by raiders of unknown origin while patrolling the border. Kat Falcone distinguishes herself in combat and is promoted to lieutenant commander.

2415—The Putney Debates. King Hadrian remains firm in his support of the War Hawks, but the Leader of the Opposition—Israel Harrison—moves against the ongoing occupation of Cadiz, pointing out that the locals are still resisting the Commonwealth, despite all the benefits of Commonwealth membership. Eventually, after much point scoring on both sides, the government remains in control and Cadiz remains occupied. However, the king becomes more determined to press the issue of war as soon as possible, particularly as the stream of refugees crossing the border has become a major problem.

2416—Kat Falcone is promoted to commander and assigned to HMS BC Thunderous as XO.

2418—Admiral Morrison is assigned to Cadiz Naval Base, following the assassination of his predecessor by a local insurgent. Readiness reports start to sink alarmingly.

2420—Kat Falcone is assigned to command HMS CA Lightning.

Editor's Note: This is an uncorrected excerpt and may not reflect the finished book.

The Hall of Judgment was a towering structure, huge enough to hold a thousand witnesses comfortably as the accused made his long slow walk towards the judges seated in their thrones, right at the front of the chamber. It was almost empty now, Admiral Junayd discovered, as two Inquisitors shoved him through the heavy wooden door and onto the stone pathway. The only people in the room, save for him and his escorts, were the First Speaker and two Clerics, waiting for him.

He rattled his chains mournfully as he started his walk, smiling inwardly at the cold glares aimed at him by the Inquisitors. They would have been happy to give him a good kicking if they hadn’t had to keep him reasonably intact to face his judges. No doubt that was why they’d left half the chains off, even though procedure insisted the accused had to be weighed down with so many iron chains that walking at anything more than a staggering crawl was impossible. They wanted him to be able to answer the charges when they were leveled against him.

Not that there’s any hope of leaving this room alive, he thought bitterly. Someone has to take the blame.

He ground his teeth together, silently. Who could have predicted that the Commonwealth, asleep for so long, would have woken up just in time to organize an effective defense? Who could have predicted that one of their junior officers—a woman, no less—would get enough ships out of the trap to render the First Battle of Cadiz a tactical success and a strategic failure? And who could have predicted that the Commonwealth would have enough reinforcements in the vicinity to launch a counterattack that had severely embarrassed the Theocracy? Someone had to take the blame . . .

. . . and, as far as the Theocracy was concerned, failure was a sign of God’s displeasure.

The weeks Junayd had spent in captivity had been far from pleasant. His interrogators had alternatively rooted through his life, searching for the secret sin that needed to be punished to please God, and praying at him to repent and hurl himself into the fire, to sacrifice himself for the Theocracy. There had been no point, he was sure; he had committed no sin deserving of punishment . . . save, perhaps, for losing. And now . . . he knew the Speaker would need to make an example of him. The Theocracy had to be seen to deal with failure harshly or it would undermine its position.

He stopped in front of the thrones and bowed his head, feeling the weight of the chains pulling him towards the floor. It was all he could do to remain upright, but he forced himself to hold steady. Going to his death bravely, even willingly, would make up for his sins and convince the Inquisitors to spare his family. His wives might be returned to their families, his children might be distributed among his relatives, but at least they would be alive. The alternative was unthinkable. Sin was so prevalent and the Inquisition so determined to root it out that they would happily kill his children if they felt he had not repented.

“Admiral,” the Speaker said. His voice was very cold. “You have failed God.”

“I served God willingly,” Junayd said calmly. “If it was His will that the battle be lost, it was His will.”

The Speaker looked at him for a long moment. “You have served God well, over the years,” he said. “It is our considered judgment that your work was undermined by the presence of sinners within our fortress and our failure to weed them out cost us the opening battles.”

Junayd blinked in surprise. He’d expected to be made the scapegoat, not . . .

“But the opening battles have still left us in a strong position,” the Speaker continued, seemingly unaware of Junayd’s shock. “We will still win the war.”

If we can, Junayd thought. The Commonwealth’s long-term potential was far greater than the Theocracy’s. Assuming it survived the opening blows, there was a very strong prospect of the Commonwealth winning the war outright. Junayd had no illusions about just how few of the occupied worlds truly loved the Theocracy. Resistance movements might be hopelessly doomed as long as the Theocracy controlled the high orbitals, but they would distract the Theocracy from focusing on the war. The Commonwealth may survive long enough to bring its greater strength into play.

He realized, suddenly, just how precarious the Speaker’s position was. It had been his daughter—again, a mere woman—who had defected, taking with her advance warning of the oncoming storm. Who would have thought that Princess Drusilla, the Speaker’s own daughter, would take such a chance? No one had given any thought to her at all, beyond the simple fact that whomever she married would be in a strong position to become Speaker when her father died. Hundreds had died to keep the secret buried, but if it got out . . . the Speaker’s position would be untenable. Who could condemn Junayd for failing to react in time, perhaps because of a long-buried sin, when the Speaker’s own daughter had committed outright treason?

A flicker of hope ran through him. He had friends and allies . . . most of them might shy away after the failure, but not all of them would. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for survival.

“You will be reassigned, Admiral,” the Speaker said. “Command of the striking fleets will be passed to someone else. You will assume command of the outer defense formations, protecting our borders against intrusions. In time, with God’s grace, you will return to your old role.”

Junayd nodded, hastily. The defense formations weren’t highly regarded, not when serving on the striking fleets brought glory and wealth, but at least he wasn’t being ceremonially beheaded, let alone hung, drawn, and quartered. He could build a new power base for himself, given time; indeed, with the Commonwealth no doubt seeking ways to strike back, there would even be chances for glory. On the other hand, the manpower would be poor and morale would be in the pits. Few competent officers were assigned to the defense formations.

But at least I will be alive, he reminded himself firmly.

“You will assume your new role at once,” the Speaker said. “The guards will escort you to your ship.”

So I can’t talk to anyone along the way, Junayd thought wryly. Whatever deals had been struck while he’d been languishing in a prison cell wouldn’t have taken his desire to see his family and friends into account. Everything I send to my family will be carefully censored first.

“Thank you,” he said, instead. “It will be my honor to serve.”

“Indeed,” the Speaker said. “And may God defend the right.”

“You know,” Candy Falcone said, “you really should be on the dance floor.”

Kat Falcone sighed as she leaned over the balcony, peering down at the guests below. Candy had a talent for inviting the best and brightest—or at least the richest and well connected—to her balls, but Kat had very little in common with any of them. Some were trust-fund babies, unable to do anything more complex than unscrewing the cap on the latest bottle of bubbly; some had built themselves reputations based on their family name and a certain willingness to exploit it for themselves. They would have been somewhere—anywhere—else, she was sure, if they’d actually lived up to their claims.

“I’m bored,” she confessed, without looking around. “I shouldn’t even be here.”

“You’re the guest of honor,” Candy said. “Percy wants to meet you, Katherine, while I believe Owen and Gayle were trying to work up the nerve to ask you out . . .”

“God forbid,” Kat said. “What do I have in common with any of them?”

Kat groaned, loudly. Percy was a weak-chinned wonder, a walking advertisement for the dangers of making someone’s life too easy, while Owen and Gayle were known hedonists. It was hard to find something edgy in the Commonwealth, not without breaking laws that would see even high-ranking aristocrats in jail or facing a firing squad, but these two seemed to manage it. And besides, she was in a relationship. Why her sister didn’t seem inclined to leave her to have her own life was beyond her.

“You’re an aristocrat,” Candy said. “You have that in common with them.”

Kat swung around to glower at her sister. Candy was tall and blonde, wearing a long green dress that showed off her chest to best advantage while hinting at the shape of her legs. They hadn’t gotten on since Kat had grown old enough to realize that her older sister spent more time in pursuit of pleasure than anything else . . . and that she would eventually grow bored of a baby sister, no matter how novel she seemed initially. If Candy hadn’t been hosting some of the most important balls on the planet, with some of the most important movers and shakers invited to attend, Kat would have declined the invitation. Right now, she wished she’d declined it anyway.

“I am a serving officer in the Royal Navy,” she said sharply. It was something she was proud of, if only because she’d achieved it on her own. “How many of them”—she waved a hand down towards the crowds—“have ever served in the Navy, let alone commanded their own starship?”

“I believe that Tryon owns a pleasure yacht,” Candy said. “Would that count?”