The Armageddon Inheritance

She looked unhappily at the holo for a moment, and none of the others intruded upon her silence.

“None of you were ever Imperial citizens, so you may not understand what I’m trying to say, but preparing to fight the Achuultani was something we’d societized into ourselves on an almost instinctual level. Even those who most resented the regimentation, the discipline, wouldn’t have destroyed our defenses. It would be like … like Holland blowing up its dikes because of one dry summer, for Maker’s sake!”

“You’re saying that disbelief in the Achuultani must have become general?” Colin said. “That if it hadn’t, the Fleet would never have let itself be caught up in something like a civil war in the first place?”

“Exactly. And if that’s true, why rebuild Sheskar as a base against an enemy that doesn’t exist?” Ninhursag gave a short, ugly laugh. “Maybe we were the wave of the future instead of just a bunch of murderous traitors!”

“Easy, ’Hursag.” MacMahan touched her shoulder, and she inhaled sharply.

“Sorry.” Her voice was a bit husky. “It’s just that I don’t really want to believe what I’m saying—especially not now that I know how wrong we were!”

“Maybe not, but it makes sense,” Colin said slowly.

“Agreed, Captain,” Dahak said. “Indeed, there is another point. For Fleet vessels to have participated in this action would require massive changes in core programming by at least one faction. Without that, Fleet Central Alpha Priority imperatives would have precluded any warfare which dissipated resources and so weakened Battle Fleet’s ability to resist an incursion. This would appear to support Fleet Commander Ninhursag’s analysis.”

“All right. But even if it’s not the Imperium we came to find, there may still be an Imperium somewhere up ahead of us.” Colin tried to project more optimism than he felt. “Dahak, what was the nearest piece of prime real estate? The closest star system which wasn’t purely a military base?”

“Defram,” Dahak replied without hesitation. “A G2-K5 binary system with two inhabited planets. As of the last Imperial census in my data base, the system population was six-point-seven-one-seven billion. Main industries—”

“That’s enough,” Colin interrupted. “How far away is it?”

“One hundred thirty-three-point-four light-years, Captain.”

“Um … bit over two months at max. That means a round trip of just over eleven months before we could get back to Earth.”

“Approximately eleven-point-three-two months, Captain.”

“All right, people,” Colin sighed. “I don’t see we have too much choice. Let’s go to Defram and see what we can see.”

“Aye,” Jiltanith agreed. ” ’Twould seem therein our best hope doth lie.”

“I agree,” MacMahan said, and Ninhursag nodded silently.

“Okay. I want to sit here and think a little more. Take the watch, please, ’Tanni. Dismiss from battle stations, then have Sarah get us underway on sublight. I’ll join you in Command One when I finish here.” Jiltanith rose with a silent nod, and he turned to the others.

“Hector, you and ’Hursag sit down and build me models of as many scenarios as you can. I know you don’t have any hard data, but put your heads together with our other adult Imperials and Dahak and extrapolate trends.”

“Yes, sir,” MacMahan said quietly, and Colin propped his chin in his hands, elbows on the table, and stared sadly at the holo as the others filed out the hatch. He expected no sudden inspiration, for there was nothing here to offer it. He only knew that he needed to be alone with his thoughts for a while, and, unlike his subordinates, he had the authority to be that way.

Chapter Five

“Well, Marshal Tsien?”

Tsien regarded Gerald Hatcher levelly as they strode down the hall. It was the first time either had spoken since leaving the Lieutenant Governor’s office, and Tsien crooked an eyebrow, inviting amplification. The American only smiled, declining to make his question more specific, but Tsien understood and, in all honesty, appreciated his tact.

“I am … impressed, Comrade General,” he said. “The Lieutenant Governor is a formidable man.” His answer meant more than the words said, but he had already seen enough of this American to know he would understand.

“He’s all of that,” Hatcher agreed, opening a door and waving Tsien into his own office. “He’s had to be,” he added in a grimmer voice.

Tsien nodded as they crossed the deserted office. It was raining again, he noted, watching the water roll down the windows. Hatcher gestured to an armchair facing the desk as he circled to reach his own swiveled chair.

“So I have understood,” Tsien replied, sitting carefully. “Yet he seems unaware of it. He does not strike one as so … so—”

“Grand? Self-important?” Hatcher suggested with a grin, and Tsien chuckled despite himself.

“Both of those things, I suppose. Forgive me, but you in the West have always seemed to me to be overly taken with personal pomp and ceremony. With us, the office or occasion, not the individual, deserves such accolades. Do not mistake me, Comrade General; we have our own methods of deification, but we have learned from past mistakes. Those we deify now are—for the most part—safely dead. My country would understand your Governor. Our Governor, I suppose I must say. If your purpose is to win my admission that I am impressed by him, you have succeeded, General Hatcher.”

“Good.” Hatcher frowned thoughtfully, his face somehow both tighter and more open. “Do you also accept that we’re being honest with you, Marshal?”

Tsien regarded him for a moment, then dipped his head in a tiny nod.

“Yes. All of my nominees were confirmed, and the Governor’s demonstration of his biotechnics—” Tsien hesitated briefly on the still unfamiliar word “—and those other items of Imperial technology were also convincing. I believe—indeed, I have no choice but to believe—your warnings of the Achuultani, and that you and your fellows are making every effort to achieve success. In light of all those things, I have no choice but to join your effort. I do not say it will be easy, General Hatcher, but we shall certainly make the attempt. And, I believe, succeed.”

“Good,” Hatcher said again, then leaned back with a smile. “In that case, Marshal, we’re ready to run the first thousand personnel of your selection through enhancement as soon as your people in Beijing can put a list together.”

“Ah?” Tsien sat a bit straighter. This was moving with speed, indeed! He had not expected these Westerners— He stopped and corrected himself. He had not expected these people to offer such things so soon. Surely there would be a period of testing and evaluation of sincerity first!

But when he looked across at the American, the slight, ironic twinkle in Hatcher’s eyes told him his host knew precisely what he was thinking, and the realization made him feel just a bit ashamed.

“Comrade General,” he said finally, “I appreciate your generosity, but—”

“Not generosity, Marshal. We’ve been enhancing our personnel ever since Dahak left, which means the Alliance has fallen far behind. We need to make up the difference, and we’ll be sending transports with enhancement capability to Beijing and any other three cities you select. Planetary facilities under your direct control will follow as quickly as we can build them.”

Tsien blinked, and Hatcher smiled.

“Marshal Tsien, we are fellow officers serving the same commander-in- chief. If we don’t act accordingly, some will doubt our claims of solidarity are genuine. They are genuine. We will proceed on that basis.”

He leaned back and raised both hands shoulder-high, open palms uppermost, and Tsien nodded slowly.

“You are correct. Generous nonetheless, but correct. And perhaps I am discovering that more than our governor are formidable men, Comrade General.”