Mutineer's Moon

fundamental to all you have striven for, cannot be left unresolved.

“Now, therefore, I, Senior Fleet Captain Colin MacIntyre, Imperial Battle Fleet, Officer Commanding, Dahak Hull Number One-Seven-Seven-Two-Nine-One, by the authority vested in me under Fleet Regulation Nine-Seven-Two, Subsection Three, do hereby convene an extraordinary court martial to consider the actions of certain personnel serving aboard the vessel presently under my command during the tenure of Senior Fleet Captain Druaga of Imperial Battle Fleet, myself sitting as President and sole member of the Court. Further, as per Fleet Regulation Nine-Seven-Three, Subsection One-Eight, I do also declare myself counsel for the prosecution and defense, there being no other properly empowered officers of Battle Fleet present.

“The crew of sublight battleship Nergal, Hull Number SBB—One-Seven-Seven- Two-Nine-One-One-Three stands charged before this Court with violation of Articles Nineteen, Twenty, and Twenty-Three of the Articles of War, in that they did raise armed rebellion against their lawful superiors; did attempt to seize their vessel and desert, the Imperium then being in a state of readiness for war; and, in commission and consequence of those acts, did also cause the deaths of many of their fellow crewmen and contribute to the abandonment of others upon this planet.

“The Court has considered the testimony of the accused and the evidence of its own observations, as well as the evidence of the said battleship Nergal’s log and other relevant records. Based upon that evidence and testimony, the Court has no choice but to find the accused guilty of all specifications and to strip them of all rank and privilege as officers and enlisted personnel of Battle Fleet. Further, as the sentence for their crimes is death, without provision for lesser penalties, the Court so sentences them.”

A vast, quiet susurration rippled through the hangar deck, but no one spoke. No one could speak.

“In addition to those individuals actively participating in the mutiny, there are among Nergal’s present crew certain individuals, then minor children or born to the core crew and/or descendants of Dahak’s core crew, and hence members of the crew of the said Dahak. Under strict interpretation of Article Twenty, these individuals might be considered accomplices after the fact, in that they did not attempt to suppress the mutiny and punish the mutineers aboard the said Nergal when they came of age. In their case, however, and in view of the circumstances, all charges are dismissed.

“The Court wishes, however, to note certain extenuating circumstances discovered in Nergal’s records and by personal observation. Specifically, the Court wishes to record that the guilty parties did, at the cost of the lives of almost seventy percent of their number, attempt to rectify the wrong they had done. The Court further wishes to record its observation that the subsequent actions of these mutineers and their descendants and allies have been in the finest traditions of the Fleet, far surpassing in both duration and scope any recorded devotion to duty in the Fleet’s records.

“Now, therefore, under Article Nine of the Imperial Constitution, I, Senior Fleet Captain Colin MacIntrye, as senior officer present on the planet Earth, do hereby declare myself Planetery Governor of the colony upon that planet upon the paramount authority of the Imperial Government. As Planetary Governor, I herewith exercise my powers under Article Nine, Section Twelve, of the Constitution, and pronounce and decree—” he let his eyes sweep over the taut, assembled faces “—that all personnel serving aboard the sublight battleship Nergal, Hull Number SBB—One-Seven-Seven-Two-Nine-One-One-Three, are, for extraordinary services to the Imperium and the human race, pardoned for all crimes and, if they so desire, are restored to service in Battle Fleet with seniority and rank granted by myself as commanding officer of Dahak, Hull Number One-Seven-Seven-Two-Nine-One, to date from this day and hour. I now also direct that the findings of the Court and the decree of the Governor be entered immediately in the data base of the said battleship Nergal and transferred, as soon as practicable, to the data base of the said ship-of-the-line Dahak for transmission to Fleet Central at the earliest possible date.

“This Court,” he finished quietly, “is adjourned.”

He sat in a ringing silence and turned slowly to look at Horus. It had taken weeks of agonized thought to reach his decision and mind-numbing days studying the relevant regulations to find the authority and precedents he required. In one sense, it might not matter at all, for it was as apparent to the northerners as to anyone in the south that the Imperium might well have fallen. But in another, far more important sense it meant everything … and was the very least he could do for the people Horus had so rightly called “extraordinary.”

“Thank—” Horus broke off to clear his husky throat. “Thank you, sir,” he said softly. “For myself and my fellows.”

A sound came from the hangar deck, a sigh that was almost a sob, and then everyone was on his or her feet. The thunder of their cheers bounced back from the battle steel bulkheads, battering Colin with fists of sound, but under the tumult, he heard one voice in his very ear as Jiltanith gripped his arm in fingers of steel.

“I thank thee, Colin MacIntyre,” she said softly. “Howsoe’er it chanced, thou’rt a captain, indeed, as wise as thou’rt good. Thou hast gi’en my father and my family back their souls, and from the bottom of my heart, I thank thee.”

It took time to restore calm, yet it was time Colin could never begrudge. These were his people, now, in every sense of the word, and if mortal man could achieve their purpose, his people would do it.

But a whispering quiet returned at last, and Hector MacMahan stood at Colin’s gesture.

MacMahan would never forget the guilt and grief of Operation Stalking-Horse’s civilian casualties. There were fresh lines on his face, fresh white in his dark hair, but he was not immune to the catharsis that had swept the hangar deck. It showed in his eyes and expression as he faced the others.

“All right,” he said quietly, “to business,” and there was instant silence once more.

He touched buttons on the Terran-made keyboard wired into the briefing console, and a detailed holo map glowed to life between the stage and the front row of seats. It hovered a meter off the deck, canted so that its upper edge almost touched the deckhead to give every observer an unobstructed view.

“This,” MacMahan said, “is the southern enclave. It’s absolutely the best data we’ve had on it yet, and we owe it to Ninhursag. We only asked her for the access code; obviously she figured out why and ran the considerable risk of compiling the rest of this for us. If we make it, people, we owe her big.

“Now, as you can see, the enclave is a cavern about twelve kilometers across with the armed parasites forming an outer ring against its walls right here.” He touched another button, and the small holographic ships glowed crimson. “They aren’t permanently crewed and won’t matter much as long as they stay that way; if they lift off, Dahak should be able to nail them easily.

“These, on the other hand”—another group of ships glowed bright, forming a second, denser ring closer to the center of the cavern—”are transports, and they’re going to be a problem. Most of their heavy combat equipment is in them, though Ninhursag was unable to determine how it’s distributed, and most of their personnel live aboard them, not in the housing units.

“That means the transports are where their people will be concentrated when they realize they’re under attack and that the heaviest counter-attacks are going to come from them. The simplest procedure would be to break into the enclave, pop off a nuke, and get the hell out. The next simplest thing would be to go for the transports with everything we’ve got and blow them apart before any nasty surprises can come out of them. The hardest way to do it is to try to take them ship-by-ship.”

He paused and studied his audience carefully.

“We’re going to do it the hard way,” he said quietly, and there was not even a murmur of protest. “For all we know, many of the people in stasis aboard them would’ve joined us from the beginning if they’d had the chance. Certainly Ninhursag did, and at the risk of a pretty horrible death if she’d been caught. They deserve the chance to pick sides when the fighting’s over.

“But more than that, we’re going to need them. There are close to five thousand trained, experienced Imperial military personnel in stasis aboard those ships, and the Achuultani are coming. We can’t count on the Imperium, though we’ll certainly try to obtain any help from it that we can. But in a worst-case scenario, we’re on our own with little more than two years to get this planet into some kind of shape to defend itself out of its own resources, and we need those people desperately. By the same token, we need the tech base and medical facilities that are also aboard those transports, so mass destruction weapons are out of the question.