there fighting the Protectorate halfway across the galaxy, while Major Stark was rooting out a nest of treasonous corporate executives and maybe going after Antonov himself. Meanwhile, he was stuck here in an office in Fleet Headquarters and the only excitement he could look forward to was if Antonov blew up this space station the way he’d blown up the old Fleet HQ station during the war.
A tone from his ‘link interrupted his thoughts.
“Colonel McKay’s office,” he answered, “Lieutenant Franks speaking.”
“Lt. Franks,” the voice in his ear was familiar, “it’s Captain Portevent from Communications. We have a priority call incoming from the
“Thanks, Captain,” he told her, checking his desk terminal and seeing the encrypted message file pop onto his display. “Got it.”
Franks hit the control to activate the office’s security interlocks, then inputted Major Stark’s identity code and played the message.
A hologram of Captain Minishimi coalesced above the desk-Franks was shocked at how pale and drawn she looked but even more concerned about the horror in her eyes.
“Major Stark,” the Captain said, speaking with a quick urgency to her tone, “two of the Eysselink drive Protectorate ramships emerged from the wormhole just minutes ago, then headed insystem at 200 gravities of acceleration. They’re headed straight for Earth and there’s no way we can intercept them in time. Major, by the time they reach Earth, they’re going to be travelling at almost twenty percent of lightspeed… I don’t know what their target is, but I’m afraid they’re going to kamikaze, and if they hit anywhere near a population center, they’ll kill millions.
“They’ll have to shut down their Eysselink fields once they get into Earth’s gravity well, but by then it won’t be possible to stop them. Even if you hit them with a Shipbuster, their plasma field would hit the planet at twenty percent lightspeed and cause a huge wave of radiation. The only way to stop them is put an Eysselink drive field in their way and shunt them away from their course, and you have less than three hours to do it.”
Captain Minishimi took in a deep breath and winced as she did it. “We’re on alert and we can move insystem right now if you order it. Please respond with your orders as soon as you can.” She shook her head. “Good luck, Major.”
“Oh shit,” Franks muttered as he shut down the recording.
Trying to hurry without fumbling, Franks brought up the secure communications line on his display and then hesitated… Major Stark had left orders not to contact her while the operation was under way. He quickly looked up the commo ID for the lander supporting her operation and punched in the number.
“Charlie Gulf Niner Niner,” Franks transmitted, “this is Sierra Hotel Bravo.” His eyes flicked to the contact codes on the display. “Sierra Hotel Bravo authenticates ‘Georgetown Alibi.’ Do you copy? Over.”
“This is Charlie Gulf Niner Niner,” the answer came immediately, a male voice that Franks had heard before. “Go. Over.”
“I have a priority one message for Charlie Gulf One,” Franks told the man. “I repeat, this is priority one, very urgent. Over.”
“Charlie Gulf One is not available,” the man told him. “We’ve received a report from Charlie Gulf Ten that there are biomechs on site and the operation may take longer than estimated.” There was a pause before the man went on, reluctantly. “It’s been too long, Sierra Hotel Bravo. I’m worried. Please advise. Over.”
Franks’ eyes glazed over.
“Wait one, Charlie Gulf Niner Niner,” he said, breaking the connection.
The ramships… those were the priority. That’s what Major Stark would say.
“Oh
As he tried to do half a dozen things at once, part of his mind gibbered
Daniel O’Keefe paced restlessly in the antechamber just steps away from the Senate floor, waiting impatiently as introductions were made. He glanced at the monitors on the wall and saw the hundreds assembled in the audience to hear his speech. The full senate was in attendance, including Valerie, along with several high- ranking military officers-though not General Kage, he noted-and a few executives of the multicorps. They waited, some impatient, some curious to hear his speech. They knew he was to speak about the failed Colonial Guard mutiny, but none had any idea of what else he intended to cover.
“Sir,” Charlie Klesko stepped through the door into the antechamber, still looking a bit uncomfortable in his renewed role as a Presidential protection agent. “They’re ready.”
O’Keefe shot the man a grateful smile. “Thanks, Charlie,” he said. “Don’t worry… you won’t be babysitting me too much longer.”
“Sir,’ Klesko said with grave sincerity, “it’s an honor and a privilege to work for you in whatever capacity you deem necessary.”
O’Keefe clapped the protection agent on the shoulder as he passed him, then he was on the speaker’s platform of the Republic Senate. He had toured the building this one was based on, the United States House of Representatives in Washington, D.C. and reflected for a moment that this chamber somehow lacked the feel of history and gravity that the older building possessed. It had a feel of novelty to it, a feel of impermanence that he couldn’t shake.
There was a light smattering of polite applause but most of the hundreds gathered were subdued and expectant as he stepped to the podium. O’Keefe tried to focus on one face or a small group, in order to make his words seem more personal, but he found to his surprise that he couldn’t do it. The faces merged together in a haze of thoughts that he couldn’t suppress.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice amplified and also transmitted to each person’s ‘link. He suppressed his usual speaker’s smile: it would seem disingenuous and puerile under the circumstances. “Thank you for joining me here on such short notice. I know you’re all concerned and curious as to why I’ve called this special session of the Senate, so I’ll get right to the point. I spoke at the press conference in Houston about the foiled attempt by some reactionary elements in the Colonial Guard to stage a mutiny and how the assassination of my son-in-law was connected with this. Well, as I am sure you can guess, there is more to that story than I’ve been able to share so far.
“The attempted mutiny was only a small part of a larger plot that is still ongoing. What I am about to tell you is going to be hard to believe, but I will be presenting evidence to back it up, both to the Senate and the press. Elements in the Multicorps Executive Council, organized by a lobbyist named Kevin Fourcade, have been conspiring to engineer a coup against the Republic government.” There was stunned murmuring at that… though not as much as if he’d gone ahead and mentioned Brendan Riordan’s name, as he’d seriously considered. But he still held out hope of turning the Executive Director and he needed to be able to promise him something resembling his old life back in order to do that.
“We are still gathering intelligence… we don’t know how far up the chain this conspiracy goes, but we have definitive proof that Fourcade was planning to distract us with the Colonial Guard mutiny, then stage an apparent attack by Sergei Antonov’s Protectorate that would lead to my assassination and replacement by Vice President Dominguez, who they hoped would be more receptive to their demands.”
Now there was a huge uproar and some people rose from their seats, shouting questions and demands at him-a major violation of Senate rules, but it was an unusual circumstance and he waved away the sergeant-at-arms when the woman stood to try to restore decorum. Instead, he motioned to his chief of staff to raise the volume, and when he spoke again it cut through the chaos.
“Vice President Dominguez couldn’t be here this morning,” he went on. In truth, Dominguez was nowhere to be found: he’d slipped his protection detail and his biological sensors were inactive. “However, we have no evidence that he is involved in this in any way.” No evidence that would hold up in court, anyway.
