Authors: Christopher Nuttall
It could be worse
, she thought, wryly.
I could have brought home a lover
!
“There is a different question that needs to be addressed,” the General said. “Just what are the long-term intentions of the Federation? Because, and let me be blunt here, we were outraged to discover just how badly our representative had been misquoted.”
Sandy fought to hide a smile. Windy had recorded the entire dinner party on
Dauntless
– but so had Feingold, without bothering to inform anyone that he was making his own recording of the event. When the official version had come out, it had been carefully edited to make it clear that the Bottleneck Republic was populated by barbarians who were prepared to starve their own people rather than accept help from the Federation. But Feingold had released his own version as soon as he reached Fairfax.
The Bottleneck Republic had a tradition; if someone was libelled, slandered or misquoted they could say so ... and place the onus of proving the claims on the speaker. And if someone couldn't prove it, they could be challenged to a duel – or simply forced out of public life. The network of contracts that governed life in the Federation simply didn't exist in the colonies. If a person’s word was considered all-important, a reputation for being a liar would follow someone for the rest of their life.
Windy hadn't been challenged. But it was unlikely that anyone on Fairfax would believe a word she said in future. Why should they?
“The Federation is uncertain itself,” the Captain confessed. “There are factions that would probably want to ensure that the Fairfax Cluster remained under the Federation’s jurisdiction and factions that couldn't really don’t care. You might want to approach the Federation as a united power bloc and demand entry on those terms. If nothing else, they would have to accept you or shatter the consensus on unity.”
He shook his head. “If matters stay the way they are, you might just win effective independence anyway. But this attack is likely to concentrate a few minds on the situation out here.”
Sandy scowled. It had honestly never occurred to her until she'd transferred into the TFN just how easily the news media could manipulate public opinion. Lacking any way to check facts for themselves – the Federation’s libel laws seemed to be written to practically
encourage
it, as long as the victim wasn’t rich or powerful – the public believed what they were told. Even the pervasive influence of independent writers and reviewers on the datanet didn't help the vast majority of the population.
“Because we will be blamed for the attack,” the General said. “How – exactly – do we benefit?”
“You get a final solution to a problem,” Sandy pointed out.
Her father rounded on her. “That wasn't funny,” he snapped.
“It wasn't meant to be,” Sandy said. Once, her father’s tone would have had her quaking at the knees, begging for mercy. Now ... she was a grown woman who had experienced worse than her father’s cold rages. “To someone who doesn’t
feel
the situation, to someone who believes that the colonies are populated by barbarians, the idea that we might just solve the problem by exterminating the aliens seems plausible.”
The General held her gaze for a long second, then swung back to face the Captain. “And how are they likely to react?”
“It depends,” the Captain admitted, uncomfortably. “They may insist that the Colonial Militia provide protection to other alien refugee camps. Or they may send the Federation Navy to handle the task.”
“Which wouldn’t please anyone,” the General muttered. “They’d take it as proof that the Federation puts the interests of aliens ahead of humanity, despite the lessons of the Cold War.”
Sandy couldn't disagree. What would have happened, she wondered, if the Federation had responded vigorously to the provocations along the border? Would the Dragons have been deterred? Or would they have built up a larger fleet and attacked ten or twenty years later? But, instead, the Federation had been occupied with its own internal problems, leaving it distracted and divided when the Dragons invaded. The colonies would not forget that easily.
“We will go to the camp and find out what happened,” the Captain said, firmly. “And then we will take whatever action seems appropriate.”
They finished their snack, then the Captain rose to leave. “With your permission, Captain, I would like to speak to my daughter,” the General said. “Would you mind ...?”
The Captain glanced at Sandy, then nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him. Sandy sighed, silently hoping that Cynthia never heard that she’d been caught alone by the senior military officer in the colonies. No doubt it would be taken as further proof of disloyalty.
“Father,” she said, tightly. “What can I do for you?”
“Just a simple question,” her father said. “Can we trust
him
?”
He nodded towards the door. “I looked up Captain Knight’s family,” he added. “They’re all corporate big-shots. And his corporation is one of the ones who think we owe them money. Can he be trusted?”
“I think he’s a decent person at heart,” Sandy said, reluctantly. Asking a junior officer to comment on her immediate superior was a gross breach of military etiquette. Her father wasn't in the TFN, but it still bothered her. “And he knows that the Governor is asking too much from us.”
“She isn’t likely to get anything,” her father grunted. “But what happens if she calls the feds in to enforce her edicts?”
Sandy knew, all right. The colonies would fight. In theory, the TFN was overwhelmingly powerful ... but that had been true of the Dragons too. And, if that happened, where would her loyalties lie?
“I think it would take the Federation some time to decide what to do in any case,” she said, finally. She had never been one to enjoy political dithering, but it worked to her advantage here. “The prospect of actual military action will split the Federation right down the middle.”
“Which may be what the attackers have in mind,” her father suggested. “What if the mercenaries were hired by Draconic warlords?”
It was a possibility, Sandy had to admit. The Federation was still overwhelmingly powerful, but if it collapsed into civil war – or even a reasonably peaceful breakup – it would be dramatically weakened. It was quite easy to imagine the Dragons hoping to trigger a civil war that would destroy humanity’s fleets without them having to lift a clawed hand.
“Be careful,” her father said. He gave her another tight hug, then released her. “You might well be one of those targeted if someone
is
trying to provoke a war.”
“I know, father,” Sandy said. “I know.”
“Captain, we’re picking up a signal from
Independence
,” Danielle said. “They’re requesting permission to accompany us to Tyson’s Rest.”
Glen concealed a smile with some effort. CS
Independence
was the starship that had shadowed them from the Bottleneck to Fairfax, then waited in orbit only a few million kilometres from
Dauntless’s
orbital slot. He wasn’t surprised that the Colonial Militia would want to escort them, although he
was
surprised that the General hadn't raised the topic with him during their brief meeting. It was possible that he hadn't known at the time, Glen supposed, but it was odd. Perhaps they just wanted to see if he would change his plans on short notice.
“Inform her that she is welcome to accompany us,” Glen ordered. “And that we will be glad of her company.”
He would be, he knew. The six freighters they were escorting had been the subject of much speculation in the colonial media. Almost all of the local commenters had harped on about how unfair it was that aliens were receiving supplies from the Federation while humans were starving. Many of them had even suggested that the Colonial Militia seize the ships and their supplies for distribution to humans. Thankfully,
that
proposal had gone nowhere – Glen would have had to block access to the freighters – but he knew that pirates and raiders would be licking their lips with anticipation. An additional escort would be very welcome.
“The freighters are finally ready to depart,” Danielle added, a moment later. “Their commanders report that all systems are go.”
“
Finally
,” Glen muttered. The freighter commanders had clearly expected to remain at Fairfax for at least a week, which suggested the Governor didn’t attach much urgency to feeding the aliens. “Inform them that we will depart in ten minutes.”
He returned his attention to his console, studying the near-orbit display. The captured carrier hadn't moved at all, beyond basic station-keeping; Cynthia believed, after hours of observation, that she simply lacked a working drive section. Glen was inclined to agree; it did look as though the Colonials had merely turned the ship into an orbiting starfighter platform, rather than trying to turn her into a proper carrier. But in their place, he would have hidden some of their tricks too. They had to know that
Dauntless
was collecting intelligence that could be used against them.
The thought made him scowl. Sandy’s father – and the rest of the colonials – had impressed him, as had their defence of Representative Feingold. If it came to a direct confrontation, he had the uncomfortable feeling that the colonials would not back down. He’d written out a full report and attached the raw data from Windy, but he doubted his brothers would take it seriously. After all, the colonials had been offered the choice between fighting or bring enslaved by the Dragons. The Federation would offer them far better choices.
But not if they wish to remain independent
, Glen thought. He remembered his own struggles to escape his family’s influence – and just how futile they had been, at the last. Would command have ever come without his brothers? Perhaps not – but if it had, it would have been his achievement and his alone.
The colonials aren't very different from me
.
He pushed the thought aside as the timer counted down to zero. “Take us out of orbit,” he ordered. “And flash our running lights as we pass.”
Dauntless
quivered slightly as Helena brought up the main drive, taking them away from the planet’s gravity well. It was fanciful to imagine that the starship was alive, but it was a common belief among spacers, who depended on their ships for survival. Glen smiled to himself as the small convoy followed
Dauntless
, with
Independence
bringing up the rear. If nothing else, he would have time to invite her skipper for dinner and take the measure of his fellow Captain.
“Injection point reached, Captain,” Helena reported. “Portal generator online.”
“Take us into hyperspace,” Glen ordered. “And then set course for Tyson’s Rest.”
He settled back into his command chair as the portal blossomed to life in front of them, then brought up the sensor readings as
Independence
followed them into hyperspace. Hyperspace made it difficult to be sure of anything, but it looked as though there was nothing wrong with her portal generator. But then, the portal generator was one of the few components no one took any chances with, even pirates. A single mishap and the entire ship might be ripped apart and scattered over a thousand light years.
“Transit complete,” Helena said, as the last portal faded back into the twisting energies of hyperspace. “Setting course now. Estimated ETA; two days.”
Glen nodded. The navigational charts of the space along the border left something to be desired. There were no navigational beacons; the only storm warnings anyone received came from starships broadcasting alerts as they altered course to avoid them. He made a mental note to request the deployment of a team of survey ships to the region, although he knew that it was unlikely they would be produced in a hurry. The Federation Survey Service had too much work to do charting out the intricacies of Draconic space.
“Keep a close eye on the convoy,” he ordered. He stood, summoning the senior officer to relieve him. “I don’t want to lose any of them here.”