The battle at the Moons of Hell

needed to fuel the next wave of attacks. As the night wore on with violence flaring up all across the city and every DocSec building outside the city center in flames, it became increasingly clear that DocSec would not be able to contain the situation.

To add to the problems facing a progressively more worried Kaspar Herris, who was holed up in the planetary councillor’s residence, reports had begun to come in of incidents in the towns surrounding Kantzina.

Csdawa’s main DocSec barracks had fallen, and the body of its DocSec colonel had been dragged out, stripped, and hung by one foot in time-honored Hammer fashion from a tree. The placard around his neck read “Traitor to the People.”

In Jennix, panicked DocSec troopers had turned their guns on peaceful demonstrators, killing and wounding hundreds before the enraged mob, heedless of the risk, had turned on their attackers, with the troopers going down under a tidal wave of murderous humanity. In Fers, Morris, and Shiba, mobs had trapped DocSec troops in their barracks and security posts. In the other towns and cities across the country, anxious DocSec commanders reported steadily rising tensions and begged for support.

Just before midnight, Herris admitted defeat and called in the marines even though he knew he had just signed his own death warrant. As he had left the Supreme Council meeting, Merrick had made it abundantly clear to him what the consequences of failure would be, and if nothing else Merrick was a man of his word.

Not that it would matter what Merrick wanted, he thought with a humorless laugh, if the street scum got to him first.

The insistent bleating of the bedside phone dragged Merrick from the depths of sleep. Cursing softly, he checked the time as he reached across to take the call. Better be something damned important to wake me at 4:30 in the morning, he thought.

“Merrick!”

“Kato Miyasaki, duty secretariat officer, sir. I have a message from Planetary Councillor Herris. He’s advising that-”

Merrick cut the man off. “Let me guess. The situation in Kantzina has gotten out of control and he’s called in the marines.”

“Yes, sir. That’s it exactly.”

“Fine. I want you to call Jarrod Arnstrom and have him draw up a warrant for the arrest of Herris. I want the warrant and him in my office at 07:45.”

“Yes, sir. What grounds for the warrant?”

“Oh, yes, good question, Miyasaki. Let’s make it conduct prejudicial to the Doctrine of the Hammer of Kraa. That’ll do for the moment. But say to Arnstrom that if he can think of any better alternatives, he can draw up warrants for those as well. I’ll pick the one I like best when he briefs me. Got all that?”

“Yes, sir. Got it. Good night.”

Merrick grunted and hung up, the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

He could accept the fact that Polk’s star might be in the ascendancy and that his own days might be numbered, but by Kraa, he would take every chance he was given to cut away the bloody man’s support. Let him explain to the Council why Planetary Councillor Herris had been a man to be trusted.

Anyway, with a bit of luck, Polk would soon be history. All Merrick needed was enough time for Eternity to come online, and he’d be untouchable. With a small sigh of satisfaction, he rolled over and was back asleep in seconds.

Tuesday, September 29, 2398, UD

DLS-387, approaching Space Battle Station 4, in Orbit around Jackson’s World

As 387 decelerated in-system, Michael was almost euphoric at the thought that getting his mother and sister back could be only a few steps away.

In less than two hours, 387 would have completed a mission to remember. Not one but two Hammer of Kraa systems successfully penetrated, they had found what they were looking for, and more important, 387 had completed the tricky business of an underway remassing after it dropped into the Jackson system. But best of all, there was the prospect of some leave to look forward to, a chance to blow off steam and relieve some of the accumulated stresses of the last few weeks, and of course he’d be able to put Aunt Claudia’s mind at rest about his mother and Sam.

How he could do that without compromising operational security he hadn’t quite worked out, but there had to be a way.

Ribot had other plans.

As he walked around the ship, he realized that there would be a lot of unhappy people when he had to tell them the bad news that there would be no leave, a severe blow given Jackson’s hard-earned reputation as one of the more fun places to be. But Fleet’s pinchcomm had been emphatic and not open for debate.

Now Helfort had asked to see him. Even now, ten days after the Mumtaz had been declared overdue, probably lost with all souls, the holovids were full of tales of grief and anger that such a thing could happen in this day and age. Helfort would have assumed, not unreasonably, that he would have priority to get planetside to be with his stricken aunt and her family, and Ribot was not looking forward to telling him otherwise. But there was more bad news: So paranoid was Fleet about security, Helfort wasn’t even going to be allowed to get a vidmail off to his father. There was no way that the needs of a junior lieutenant, however worthy, could be allowed to compromise operational security. Ribot had no doubt that Fleet would have put huge pressure on the Sylvanians to keep 387’s arrival a secret.

So, as far as anyone who cared to inquire was concerned, it was situation normal and 387 was in pinchspace somewhere en route to the Kashliki Cluster.

For one moment Ribot wondered what had ever made him want to be the captain of a Fleet warship. He sighed as he decided how to handle the most pressing issues on his plate: Michael first, officers and senior spacers second, and announcing the bad news to the troops third.

Ribot groaned. What an evening he had to look forward to, and no doubt Fleet had a full debriefing team standing by, ready to talk all night if need be. Wonderful.

“All stations, this is command. Hands fall out from berthing stations. Revert to harbor stations, ship state 4, airtight integrity condition zulu.”

Strezlecki turned to Michael as the surveillance drone crew left without the high-spirited banter that normally accompanied berthing. “Not a very happy bunch of campers, sir.”

Michael nodded. “Not surprising, I’m afraid, under the circumstances. But what I want to know is what Fleet wants us to do next. You saw the Fleet supply ship berthed ahead of us? The Ramayana, I think. I’m sure that’s no coincidence.”

Strezlecki smiled. “Well, sir, for what it’s worth, I think the shit’s about to hit the fan and little old 387 is going to be in the thick of it. We did a good job, maybe too good a job, to get in and out the way we did, and I’m sure Fleet will want more of the same.”

“I won’t give you odds on that, Strez, ’cause I think you’re right. But let’s just wait and see. Shit! I’d better get a move on. I’m officer of the day.”

As Michael finished stowing his space suit, Mother commed him.

“For your information, Michael, Major Claudia McNeil is our Frontier Fleet liaison officer, and she’ll be onboard in five to confirm that we have everything we need.”

“Roger that.”

“And Captain Andreesen from Fleet has just confirmed that he’ll be arriving on the up-shuttle at 20:15. He should be here ten minutes after that.”

“Okay. Captain got all that?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks, Mother.”

Strezlecki looked at him quizzically, left eybrow lifted inquiringly. “Developments?”

“Sure are. Fleet’s sent OPS-1 to talk to us.”