Van-Lyn had food and drink brought for himself and the transfixed Micah.
Finally, after more than sixteen hours, the long range screens indicated a flurry of weapons activity and countermeasures, but then the blip that was Predator reached the jump point and disappeared, leaving Eagle to destroy three missiles that were barely too late.
Micah cursed. Predator was surely headed to Haven and Cord. That meant Cord would be warned of Micah’s plan.
Micah spun on his heel and headed back to his cabin. He had a lot of thinking to do and plans to change. He sighed. It looked like another long night.
Micah swept a glare around the conference table at his assembled captains. Their expressions varied, but Micah could detect widespread doubt, suspicion, and resentment. His control was wobbly. There were still far too many unreliables in key positions. The situation was intolerable. They were military people and he was their commander. Who did they think they were, questioning his orders? The Fleet was getting as decadent as the Empire itself!
“All right,” he said finally, “we can assume that Predator has defected to Cord. That means that our preparations must be speeded up. Cord will know that we’re coming, but he can only guess when. We’ll still be able to punish the traitors!”
There was a tense silence until finally Captain Rence Vidsen of Fearless took a deep breath and said, “There seems to be some doubt as to exactly who the traitors are, sir.”
Micah frowned and controlled his temper with an effort. He detested Vidsen, whom he always considered an unimaginative but fanatical Fleet loyalist. “I won’t pretend I don’t know what that means, Captain. I’ve seen evidence in all of you of a growing lack of respect and trust in me, your commanding officer. I find that appalling.
“I am not in the habit of explaining my orders and my decisions. However, it is obvious that I can no longer simply rely on your sense of duty or oaths of loyalty. I have been trying to minimize emotional and organizational trauma, but I find that my efforts have been misinterpreted and even subverted by my subordinates. Since my efforts have been in vain, I find myself with no alternative but to divulge information I felt, and still feel, would be better concealed. Please call up 128E-65d on your pocket comps.”
There was shuffling about as the officers retrieved the document. “This is a copy of a message I obtained from an agent on Prime. Please note the authentication codes; there is no way they could have been faked.”
“You will have noted,” Micah continued, “that the message is a personal one from the Emperor to Sander Cord, and deals with their plan for the secession of the rim sector from the Empire. The Emperor, our ruler, is conspiring to betray the very Empire he is charged with ruling and protecting!
“You will also have noted the Emperor’s comment that he has secret assurances from nearly enough influential Senators to push the ‘release’ through the Senate. I…”
“The Emperor is the Empire, Admiral.” Micah glowered at Vidsen’s growled interruption. “An Emperor cannot betray the Empire, and I will not betray the Emperor!”
Micah slammed a hamlike fist on the table. “Nonsense! We have sworn oaths to protect and serve the Empire. An Emperor is merely a man charged with serving the Empire. The Emperor has a responsibility to rule and protect the Empire, not destroy it!
“Yes,” he continued, “we swore to serve the Empire and the Emperor. However, our duty to the Empire comes first. Emperors come and go, but the Empire is eternal. That’s why we don’t have to renew our oaths every time an Emperor dies. Eron is betraying his duty to the Empire.”
Micah shrugged. “Now you can see why I tried to ignore the Emperor’s role in this treason and to assign the blame to Cord alone. I was trying to spare you and all the Fleet people in this sector the stress and trauma this information is certain to entail.
“Now that you’ve forced me to reveal the truth, I hope you will support me more willingly, and will not make it necessary to confuse our people. If we do this right, the people of the Empire will never learn that the Emperor tried to betray them.”
It wasn’t that easy, of course. The discussion went on for hours, becoming quite acrid at times. Sometimes Micah was on the defensive, at others mounting increasingly violent verbal assaults. When the meeting finally wound down and the dozen participants trooped out arguing and gesticulating, Micah signaled to Van-Lyn to stay behind.
He glared across the table at the slumped figure. Van-Lyn was turning into a real liability. He wandered around like a zombie, with a defeated, resigned air. The old man seemed to have aged another twenty years in the last months. Oh, Van-Lyn knew that his fate was linked with Micah’s for good or ill. He’d apparently decided it was ill. For the hundredth time, Micah wished he could afford to get rid of the old bastard.
“What do you think, Jamin? Did we convince them?”
The old man shrugged. “Some of them. That message is pretty damning. But they’ve been conditioned since childhood to revere the Emperor. And the older the man, the more ingrained that reverence and loyalty.”
Micah sighed. “The biggest problem is the captains of the ships. We need the support of the officers down on Thaeron Base, but without loyal captains to command the ships, we’re bound to lose.”
Van-Lyn nodded. “You can’t just relieve them without some obvious cause. Their orders come from Headquarters on Prime. They'd simply demand hearings and courts-martial.”
Micah frowned. “But I must have captains that I can control! Could we use our, uh, ‘business associates’ to frame some of them?”
Van-Lyn winced, and then shrugged. “Maybe one or two. But the frames would have to be airtight — they’ll be reviewed at HQ.”
Micah echoed Van-Lyn’s shrug. “Not until after this fracas is over. I need people I can trust in there now. Who cares if HQ reinstates them two years later?”
Van-Lyn winced again. “Sir, you're talking about excellent officers, some of the best in the Fleet. You could destroy their careers.”
Micah slammed a ham-sized fist on the desk again. “I don’t care!” He shouted, “It’s them or us!” He glared across the desk. “Damn it, Jamin, d’you want to spend the rest of your life on a prison planet? Or take a blaster bolt to the back of your head? I don't!”
Van-Lyn fidgeted, and his eyes dropped. “Well, we don't have to worry about Bon-Lor of Relentless or Gyles of Dauntless. Both of them are in this as deep as we are. That means that you control two of the three cruisers.”
Micah nodded. “True. I’m worried about Vidsen, though. The man’s Fleet through and through, and straight as an arrow. I doubt we could even get away with framing him. We may,” he continued thoughtfully, “have to arrange an accident for Captain Vidsen. I need every battle cruiser I’ve got. I can’t leave one in the hands of an unreliable captain.”
Van-Lyn's face tightened and he leapt to his feet. “I've gone along with some terrible things these last few years,” he said with massive dignity, “But I will not go along with the murder of one of the best captains in the Fleet. If you’re going to resort to murder,” he continued contemptuously, “You’d better begin with me.”
“Sit down.” Micah demanded; then, more forcefully, “I said, ‘ sit down’ ”
Van-Lyn slowly resumed his seat. “You fool!” Micah roared, “I don’t mean to kill him! I just want him injured badly enough to incapacitate him for a while. Once I get him off Fearless and in the base dispensary, I can appoint an interim Captain, and hold him incommunicado for as long as necessary.”
Micah’s scowl faded, and he relaxed slightly. “You know I’m not a killer, Jamin. I'm surprised you’d think that of me.”
Van-Lyn looked unconvinced, but somewhat mollified. Micah cursed silently. He wanted to jump up and yell, “Of course I’m going to have him killed, you idiot, just like the four others so far!” But knowing Van-Lyn, he restrained himself and forced patience into his tone.
“Don’t you see, Jamin,” Micah continued, “That may be the only way to get Vidsen out of the way?” He chewed his lip. “In fact, we may have to take similar steps with Jamro of the Harpy.”
Van-Lyn stared at Micah morosely. After a long moment, he said quietly, “Do you have any idea how much I regret ever getting involved in this with you, Admiral?”
Micah relaxed, and settled back in his chair with a chuckle. “I think I do, Captain. But I think the… what; seven million you have stashed on Beulahland will help ease your conscience.'
