Shadow of Freedom Page 37

  “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 narro
wed 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.

  “Yes, Milady.” He looked Khumalo in the eye. “My apologies Admiral.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Khumalo’s tone might have been just a little short, but he didn’t let irritation distract him. Instead, he turned back to Medusa.

  “Milady, I very much doubt that you and Mr. O’Shaughnessy could have been any more surprised than I was when Ankenbrandt screened me and introduced himself with one of Admiral Gold Peak’s authenticator code words. And I know you couldn’t have been any more surprised than I was when he arrived aboard Hercules and handed over a secure Navy message chip from her. Having read her message—I’ve brought a copy of it along for you and Mr. O’Shaughnessy—and heard Ankenbrandt’s story, though, I think we’ve got a hexapuma by the tail in this one. And it’s not even really our hexapuma!”

  “Assuming Ankenbrandt really is telling us the truth and not a plant who’s somehow found a way to fool even a treecat when he lies, I’m afraid it is our hexapuma, Admiral,” O’Shaughnessy said thoughtfully. He’d obviously gotten over his initial pique and reengaged his brain, Medusa noted. “This is incredibly clever on someone’s part. The potential consequences if dozens of planetary resistance movements get slaughtered when they believe—completely accurately, as far as they know—the Star Empire’s promised to support them…”

  He shook his head, his expression grim, and Khumalo nodded.

  “That’s approximately the analysis Admiral Gold Peak’s sent along.” The tall, heavily built admiral chuckled suddenly. “The analysis, I might add, which was initially proposed by Ensign Zilwicki.”

  “No, really?” Medusa smiled. “The acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?”

  “I don’t believe she has any inclination to become a ‘spook,’ Madame Governor,” Khumalo said. “Doesn’t mean she doesn’t have the instincts, though. And personally, I’m pretty sure she’s onto something here. This has this Mesan Alignment’s fingerprints all over it.”

  “Maximum return for minimum investment,” O’Shaughnessy agreed, nodding firmly. “And misdirection, and directed at at least three targets I can see already. God only knows how many secondary targets this thing is aimed at!”

  “The question is how we respond to it,” Medusa pointed out. “I think you were right that this was something I had to hear first while wearing my Imperial Governor’s hat, Augustus, but I’m going to have to go ahead and brief Joachim and his cabinet on it. Among other things, if Ankenbrandt’s really a representative sample, the majority of messengers from any of these resistance movements are going to be heading right here to Spindle. The Quadrant’s government needs to know they’re coming.”

  Khumalo nodded, and Medusa pursed her lips, thinking for several moments. Then—

  “Should I assume Lady Gold Peak sent a recommendation along with her report?”

  “She did, Madame Governor.”

  “And you’re not going to tell me what it was unless I pull it out of you with a pair of pliers, right?”

  “A simple order to come clean will do, Madame Governor,” Khumalo replied with a smile. “Still, I have to admit I’m curious to see whether your response parallels hers.”

  “All right, I’ll give it to you.” Her own smile faded, and her eyes hardened. “I think we need to send back orders to treat any messenger from a genuine resistance movement—it was as smart of her as I would have expected to use a treecat to verify Ankenbrandt’s truthfulness—as if they really had been in contact with Manticore all along. I don’t see how we can afford not to. At the same time, though, we have to be cautious. We don’t know what kind of booby-traps the Alignment could have built into something like this. Don’t forget those invisible starship of theirs. A few of them tucked away to ambush our units responding to a resistance movement’s call for assistance could do a lot of damage.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at Khumalo, and the burly admiral nodded.

  “That’s almost exactly what Admiral Gold Peak recommended,” he said, and reached into his breast pocket. He extracted a chip folio and laid it on Medusa’s desk. “Here’s her actual report, including the treecat’s—Alfredo’s—assessment of Ankenbrandt’s truthfulness.”

  “Thank you.” Medusa scooped up the folio. She looked at it for a moment, then tossed it to O’Shaughnessy.

  “You take a run through it first, Gregor. Be thinking about it after you finish so we can exchange notes as soon as I’m through with it.”

  “Yes, Milady.”

  “Admiral Khumalo, unless Gregor and I come up with something that causes me to change my mind, we’ll be sending a dispatch to Lady Gold Peak before the end of the day confirming her own analysis and proposed course of action. At the same time, though, we obviously need to kick this further up the chain to Foreign Secretary Langtry, Prime Minister Grantville, and Her Majesty, as well. I’d like you, Captain Shoupe, and Commander Chandler to provide your own individual appreciations to accompany that report back to Landing.”

  “Yes, Milady.”

  “In that case, as Duchess Harrington would say,” she smiled, “let’s be about it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “You know,” Michelle Henke said thoughtfully, “I’m beginning to wonder exactly what qualifications the Sollies look for in candidates for their naval academy. I mean there has to be a filtering process. You couldn’t just go out and pick middies at random and get such an invariably stupid crop of flag officers. There has to be some kind of system. If you just picked names out of a hat, for example, somebody would have to have a functional brain. Right?”

  “You’d like to think so, anyway, Ma’am,” Gervais Archer replied. He’d been working quietly on his minicomp when the dispatches couriered to Tillerman from Spindle arrived. “May I ask what prompted the observation at this particular time, though?”

  “Oh, you certainly may,” she said much more grimly, and entered a command. The dispatch she’d been viewing appeared on Gervais’ display, and his eyes widened slightly as he saw the security header. He started to ask her if she was sure about giving him access but quickly changed his mind. Countess Gold Peak didn’t make that sort of careless mistake. Besides, as her flag lieutenant, he needed access to all sorts of information that didn’t generally come the way of someone as junior as he was.

  The message had come directly from the Lynx Terminus, relayed to the Tillerman System and addressed to Admiral Bennington for his information, since the Lynx CO hadn’t been aware the countess had moved to that system herself. The addressee list in the header showed the same message had been sent to Admiral
Khumalo and Baroness Medusa in Spindle. It would have reached the Quadrant’s capital star system just over two weeks ago, but the decision to copy it to Bennington in Tillerman meant Tenth Fleet’s CO had gotten the information at least four or five days sooner than she would have if she’d had to wait for it to be relayed from Spindle. Now Gervais sat back, reading quickly, and his expression grew bleaker with every sentence. Then he came to the tabular data at the end.

  “Shit.”

  He blushed suddenly, that dark magenta shade only a true redhead could accomplish, and looked up.

  “Sorry about that, Ma’am. But…but—”

  “But shit,” she said, nodding. “I’ve heard the term before. Even used it on occasion, Gwen. And I can’t say I fault your word choice.”

  “What was the lunatic thinking?” Gervais shook his head. “I don’t think even Crandall would’ve fired in a situation like that!”

  “I’m not so sure there’s anything Crandall wouldn’t have done,” Michelle. “On the other hand, you may have a point. And apparently there’s been some speculation back in Manticore about just how he might have been ‘helped’ into doing it.”

  “More of that mind control stuff, Ma’am?” Gervais’ tone mingled disgust, apprehension, and doubt, and Michelle shrugged.

  “I didn’t know, Gwen. Nobody knows what the damn stuff is or exactly how it works, and we’re way behind the curve out here, thanks to how slowly information from home gets to us. According to the most recent speculation Duchess Harrington’s shared with me, it’s not really mind control, though, and I have to wonder whether or not it would be capable of arranging something like this.”

  Michelle sat silent for a handful of seconds, eyes narrowed and lips pursed while she considered the possibilities. Then her eyes refocused and she shrugged again.

  “I’m afraid the most important point isn’t why he did it but that he did it,” she pointed out. “The cat, as my mother was always fond of saying when someone screwed up, is definitely amongst the pigeons now. Pile this on top of what happened to Crandall, and everybody’s on the back of the hexapuma. So if we don’t want to end up inside—or to lose a few fingers and toes to it, at least—I think it’s time we do something a bit more proactive than just waiting around for the next Solly fleet to sail obligingly into disaster.”