Rear Admiral Micah Jonas was not a happy man. It had all seemed so simple and foolproof back on Thaeron. He would simply move in with massive firepower on the unarmed planets of the rim, seize Haven and Cord, kill Cord, and present the Emperor with the return of a ‘renegade’ sector. Its very simplicity made the plan’s success almost inevitable. Besides, nobody would dare resist a flotilla powerful enough to destroy a planet.
He was well aware of the ancient adage that “no battle plan survives contact with the enemy” — but he’d been sure that there would be no battles. Surely even these provincials would realize that resistance to his overwhelming force would be doomed to failure.
However, things had begun going wrong almost immediately. First, Predator had deserted, providing Cord a nucleus for an armed space force, and incidentally revealing Micah’s plan to the Viceroy.
Then, Cord had dug up that damned Kedron somewhere, and suddenly what had been a simple exercise in gunboat diplomacy became a military gamble.
Then, Kedron had shown up at Thaeron claiming to be a Fleet Vice Admiral, and nearly destroyed Micah without firing a shot.
Kedron’s visit had cost Micah dearly. He’d lost two more of his ships, strength he was becoming painfully aware that he could ill afford. He'd also lost hundreds of crewpeople when hand-to-hand combat had broken out on all of his ships between those who’d believed Kedron’s message and those who’d remained loyal to Micah. Over two hundred died, and almost a thousand more had to be confined to various brigs.
It had been a near thing. Micah’s plan had almost ended in disaster. It’d taken months for Micah to regain enough control to proceed. He was getting desperate. The plan could still work, but time was getting short.
He’d breathed a huge sigh of relief when he’d finally given the order for the flotilla to jump to Haven. However, it seemed his relief had been premature.
Certainly, Cord had fled as soon as Micah’s ships emerged at the edge of Haven’s system. Micah had watched in impotent fury as blips identifying two destroyers, four of the ubiquitous rim tramps and a blip whose beacon identified her as a merchant vessel called Valkyrie drove for a secondary jump point. They’d disappeared before Micah’s forces were close enough to engage. He could have destroyed Cord, Kedron and the resistance in one blow if he’d been able to catch them. Oh, well, Cord couldn’t win without control of his sector capital. Eventually, he’d have to launch an attack. All Micah had to do was sit and wait.
Once his ships had assumed standard Fleet orbit positions, Micah had commandeered all commercial vid channels for his announcement.
“I am Rear Admiral Micah Jonas of the Empire Fleet,” he'd begun. “I have come to secure the arrest of the traitor Sander Cord and his criminal minion, Val Kedron, as well as to secure this sector for the Empire, and prevent its rebellion.
“I call upon all loyal citizens of the Empire to assist me in preserving the peace of this sector, and its quick return to the Empire’s fold. It will be necessary for me to temporarily impose martial law on the planet of Haven. Do not resist. Our marines are authorized to shoot when necessary to preserve order.
“However,” he’d continued with what he’d considered a friendly smile, “I’m sure that shooting will not be necessary. We are, after all, all loyal subjects of the Empire, despite Cord’s lies and duplicity. Unfortunately, the Viceroy’s treasonous acts require that I impose certain restrictions and directives until we’ve rooted out the traitors. I’m sure I can count on your cooperation. Please stay tuned for the regulations and instructions that are required to implement martial law.'
He’d been pleased with his speech, but almost as soon as he finished, the commercial vid channels were suddenly blanketed by a broadcast originating somewhere off-planet.
“This is Viceroy Sander Cord,” it began, “Warrants are hereby issued for the arrest of former Rear Admiral Micah Jonas, and former Captain Jamin Van-Lyn, both recently cashiered from His Imperial Majesty’s service. These criminals are wanted for mutiny, rebellion, sedition, and high treason, and are wanted dead or alive. A reward of twenty thousand imperial crowns is offered for each of them. All Fleet personnel are reminded that these men are traitors to the Empire and the Fleet. Conflicting Fleet regulations are temporarily suspended, and Fleet personnel may claim the reward.
“I call upon all military and civilian personnel within the rim sector to resist these criminals in any way possible. Cooperation with these fugitives may result in imperial criminal charges up to and including treason and rebellion.”
It took Micah’s techs only moments to trace the signal to its source, but that source turned out to be a drone buoy orbiting at the edge of the system. It took more than three days for Raptor to get close enough to destroy the buoy, and all that time, Cord's message drowned out all broadcasts on the commercial channels.
Micah was furious. His carefully crafted message was made to look ridiculous, and his authority and legitimacy virtually destroyed by a thirty-second recorded message. Not only that, but everyone on the planet had to listen to the damned thing repeat over and over for more than three days!
In fury, Micah sent his other two Destroyers, Gyrfalcon and Eagle, to find Cord. Neither Captain was happy about putting their ships at risk, but Micah was adamant. By all the odd gods of the galaxy, he wanted Cord and Kedron!
He also decided to send Relentless to the Gamma system. He knew that Gamma and the four other closely associated planets along the far edge were the economic heart of the sector, as Haven was its political heart. It was essential that he have control of both.
Bon-Lor complained about being sent three jumps away without backup, but Micah had bullied the drunken sot into submission. In the end, Bon-Lor had complied, much to Micah's relief. Bon-Lor had been useful on Thaeron, but now, his drinking was making him a liability.
In the meantime, within minutes after his broadcast had concluded, Haven’s planetary government had called to capitulate. Less than ten minutes later, the marine detachment sent to seize the Viceroy’s palace had reported the palace secure, with no resistance. Micah had been relieved. Despite everything, the plan had seemed to be working. Then…
The first sign of trouble had come when Micah had shuttled down to the planet, to personally move into the Viceroy’s palace.
He’d walked into a dead building. There’d been no power to operate anything. His marines’d had to force the doors. The building had also been empty. Not only Cord was gone; there was a complete absence of people. Not a servant was to be found. Not a tech, either. The building was deserted. Unheated, the building’s interior temperature was well below zero. Hoarfrost decorated the walls.
The first order of business had been to restore the power. Once the comps were up, it would be simple to locate and secure the palace employees. He’d had Nemesis ’ Chief Engineer come down, bringing a work party. Then he’d retreated to Nemesis. Time enough to move into the palace once the power was restored-and the heat.
The Chief had called back in less than half an hour. “The fusactor’s been dumped, sir,” he reported.
Micah had frowned. “Well, how long to get it up and running?”
“You don’t understand, sir,” the man protested, “The fusactor’s been dumped! All the fuel has been removed — and there’s no fuel in the storehouse. The fusactor’s cold. Once we can get the fuel, we could probably get it back on line in about forty-eight hours. But without fuel…”
Micah’s irritation was becoming more visible. “Well, get the fuel! Have it sent in, if necessary. But get that fusactor started. I need access to Cord’s comp!”
However, that blasted Cord had backed up the comp’s files and memory, then dumped the core. Even the basic operating system was gone. The same had been done to every government comp in Haven City. Even the records of the prisoners in Haven’s jails had been wiped.
As for the palace, it seemed that fuel rods no longer existed on Haven. In the end, it had taken a visit by Micah’s marines to the processing plant. Under the prodding of aimed weapons, the plant’s manager had remembered where some fuel rods were stored.
Finally, after almost a week, the palace had power, light, and heat. What it didn’t have was anyone who’d admit to being an employee there. Without the comp personnel files, Micah had no way to identify the workers. When he advertised for more workers, the only applicants were rather obviously the lazy, the incompetent, and the criminal. Micah had finally appointed an officer to oversee the palace personnel, but even so, meals were frequently late and rarely edible, laundry was as likely to be returned soiled and torn as clean, and housekeeping… well, the
