There was no rest for Lord Admiral Janus after arriving in the Whel system with the bulk of the Expeditionary Fleet. After placing the fleet under the administration of the port admiral at the Whel space station both Janus and Region General Ronon immediately went on to the Hokum home system in a corvette-sized transport. After brief fanfare on Hokum Prime the two officers participated in a committee crafting the formal military cooperation treaty with the Commonwealth of Planetary States. Four days after arrival Janus received an invitation, signed by Emperor Valsur, to attend a primary school tennis exhibition. From what she learned over the years was that emperors holding off-the-record meetings would do so in public places, and that any conversations held could be assigned plausible deniability.
As the meeting was in a public place, it was implied to hold a low profile, so Janus wore an appropriate civilian vest. At the tennis court she was discreetly directed by an attendant to an empty spot in the bleachers. Next to that empty spot was Emperor Valsur, wearing a university tennis team jacket and a sun visor. Without fanfare Janus sat next to him, feeling, despite her age, that she was a student sitting next to a primary school principal.
“No need to feel unease, Janus,” said Valsur, turning his head slightly. “We’re going to have some small talk while watching my son play tennis.” He motioned to the court where Vendex was playing rather strong against his opponent. In Hokum tennis the player has a racket in both dominant hands. For Vendex it was his right front and right rear hands. “Same hand dominance like his father,” Valsur said with pride. “He’ll clean up the courts when he gets to secondary school.” He motioned to the occupants of the bleachers. “I’m not like the first emperors. They would’ve cleared out bleachers for a private match and had a large security presence. I have only one bodyguard and he’s been instructed to prioritize my son instead of me. We can always elect a new emperor. The parents here are far more interested in the matches than listening to our conversation.”
Janus took in what Valsur said, noting how the spectators, the parents of the players, were attentive to the action on the court. It was likely they knew Valsur was sitting among them but had manners to give him privacy. “I’ve been known as a terror of the court back in the Academy and have the plaques to prove it. I see your jacket that you’ve two championship chevrons. Which teams did you win against to get those?”
After a few minutes of tennis banter Valsur took a sip of canned iced tea and offered Janus an unopened one. “The stock of the new missile pods has been steadily increasing, and we’ve been fortunate that we haven’t encountered the situation of using them where Axis forces could report their use to higher authority. If that occurs, do you support the idea of informing our Commonwealth allies that we possess such a weapon?”
Janus opened the can and took a sip. “If we end up doing a combined assault against a particularly heavily defended Axis system then I’m open to informing them about the technology. Or, if they inform us that they possess the technology then we can reciprocate.”
“Yes, I imagine after the armed pinnace losses they’ve told us about they’re motivated to find a solution.” Valsur paused as he clapped with all four hands as his son delivered a strong return stroke with his back right racket. “The Commonwealth has expressed its appreciation for all the assistance we provided so far. They provided technical details of a new small craft called a reconnaissance pinnace. No doubt there will be those that want us to do the same with missile pod technology, but I feel it prudent to hold that information close for the time being. That is, unless, the Axis surprises use with missile pods of their own.”
“So true, Sir.” In this informal setting it was permitted to address the Emperor as ‘sir’ instead of ‘lord’. “Though I suspect the Commonwealth is giving us those pinnace details because the Axis has seen its use in the field. In that regard we’ll have parity.”
Valsur took a sip of his canned tea. “I’ll put a fire under Finance to assign funding for the project. Holding back on three dreadnaughts ought to do it.”
After ten minutes Vendex won his match, earning a round of applause from the spectators. After a congratulatory wave Valsur turned to Janus. “An impressive set of swings, I must say. My son worked his opponent into a corner that left only a little breathing room. Speaking of breathing room, what is your opinion on the Com Pocket?”
Having anticipated this question, Janus gave an answer she composed on her journey to Hokum. “It is my opinion that we stop investing on minefields covering the warp points that lead out of the pocket, as well as stop sending in ships to ferret them out. If we do, then we’re enabling the Axis raiding force to accomplish its second goal – tying down our forces and resources.”
“Interesting, Janus. The Naval Strategic Board told me that more than a handful of younger admirals want to go into the Com Pocket willy-nilly, hunting down the raiding group like it was ‘find the freshmen’ during the first week of university. Can you elaborate on your assertion?”
Janus replied after taking a swig from her can of iced tea. “After reading the reports on the abandoned Axis ships in Abyssal-019, and consulting with Professor Alba during my stop at Citadel, I believe the raiding force will sequester itself at a preselected location in one of the Com Pocket systems once their supplies reach a two- or three-month level. They may send empty supply ships in a feint that will preoccupy our forces and make them conduct unproductive searches.”
Valsur applauded as the next set of tennis players took to the court. “Interesting. Then why did the Comensal crews of the Abyssal ships sacrifice themselves? Couldn’t they place themselves in medically induced hibernation?”
“There was no evidence, either in captured Comensal documentation or in ship databases, even hardcopies, for such a procedure. Alba said that the Comensal have kept to some pre-space cultural heritage. They believe that any long-term unconsciousness, either through comas or medically induced hibernation, would invite malicious spirits to invade and take over their bodies. In the modern setting this translates into being revived by aliens and taken as slaves or worse. This also explains why the crews extinguished themselves in the void of space as they didn’t want to leave any bodies on their ships for aliens to find and experimented on.”
After a moment of contemplation Valsur finished his iced tea. “Instead of being battlefield captures, the Abyssal-019 ships were abandoned in place. What are the chances that some tripwire software is embedded in those ships’ computers?”
“Very low, Sir. Of all the ships we’ve captured to date, not even one has shown evidence of such software. Besides, our technicians have become quite proficient in Comensal shipboard software. They found what amounted to be a ‘factory reset’ hardwire command connected their data cores, independent of the actual data erasure protocol. It doesn’t matter if the cores are erased to prevent capture or after we’ve gathered what we needed. Use the factory reset, and those programs needed to operate the ship are returned to baseline while anything else that required high level authorization is erased. I suspect this procedure is used when ships are abandoned, like in Abyssal-019, or placed into mothballs so that sensitive software doesn’t interfere with the reactivation process.”
Valsur handed his empty can to a passing snack vendor. “From my viewpoint the Com Pocket will become irrelevant in months. Already the minefields in those systems deemed important are thick enough to deplete whatever stock of mine clearance rounds the Comensal have on hand, not to mention using empty freighters as mine sponges. I’ve decided that reinforcements for Admiral Jocelin’s fleet, as well as supplies for the conversion work in Cain, will be set with strong escort through the Com Packet in the most direct route. Any attack on them will be obliterated, like the one that occurred in Com-22.”
“I agree, Sir. For all the fighters and small craft the Comensal deployed, they only destroyed one carrier. I believe that was the extent of their fighter and small craft force. We can always use the remaining Fast Walker scouts to reestablish the com and scanner buoy chains in the Com Pocket systems.”
Valsur watched the current match for a minute. “I believe that’s enough business for today, Janus,” he said without turning his head. “Please stay for the next hour or so. The level of tennis proficiency being displayed isn’t going to appreciate itself. Also my son has expressed an interest to see you.”
“I’d be delighted, Sir. I’m sure he will appreciate some pointers from a fellow tennis player.”
********
Nisecu Lake arrived at the meeting place at the appointed time, a few minutes past midnight. It was a lumber yard, and the freshly cut logs were pungent after a steady rain a few hours ago. There was a fence, easily bypassed, and the security guard had been given a hefty bribe to be elsewhere for the next half hour. With both mouths Lake made a bird call consistent with that of the local aviary, and was answered by two calls in turn, one with a noticeable higher pitch.
After walking past four rows he found the source of the calls. Both were Eleto, like himself, and wore dark rain jackets. Lake recognized them as Brant and Smiler. Brant ran several resistance cells, much like Lake, with particular attention paid to the Comensal Anti-Abomination Security Police (ASP). Smiler’s resistance cells kept tabs on the Axis Army units. Whereas Brant could blend into a crowd readily, it was not the case for Smiler. In his youth Smiler was picked up during an ASP sweep and held for several days after a resistance cell sabotage several ASP vehicles. All of Smiler’s teeth were knocked out and it required a set of surgeries to replace them. One lasting after effect was that his natural resting face resulted in smiles, and it took conscious effort to suppress them for Comensal in general and ASP agents in particular hated Eletoshani smiles. But here in this case the harden resistance operative allowed himself to relax. “Three of us in one place,” Smiler said with both mouths, speaking with a low voice. In addition to hating Eleto smiles the Comensal made it a law that Eleto were to speak with only one mouth when in the presence of a Comensal. “Unusual, and dangerous.”
“Agreed,” said Brant, his four eyes kept moving out of habit under the circumstances. “It has to be something damn important.”
“It is,” Lake said. “No doubt both of you had been informed by your operatives of inexplicable Axis activity in the past few days?”
“I have,” Smiler confirmed. “Army units have been consolidating at their operating bases with indecent haste, prepping tactical missile batteries and armored units. Some are now in the process of being airlifted to the colonial enclave.”
“ASP personnel have also appeared to be consolidating as well,” Brant added. “Their patrols went down considerably. As for media control, they clamped down hard. Only AI announcers for news and censored programs. Nothing live with Eleto at all.”
Smiler made the effort to look serious, fighting the urge of his mouths to smile. “It could be just another major exercise on the boneheads’ part. They do this every other year, but we wouldn’t be holding this gathering if that was the case. Besides, they held a similar exercise last year.”
Like Smiler, Lake made a serious face. “So true. I have earlier today learned that both the Comensal governor and the head military leader are both now at the underground command center at the spaceport. Shuttles and pinnaces will start taking Comensal civilians to Evergreen within the hour. A complete evacuation.”
All four of Smiler’s eyes locked onto Lake. “They’ve never done that before. Does this mean they’re going…”
“You’re sure of your information?” Brent said bluntly.
“Totally, Brent. What happened a few days ago was that an alien Commonwealth force, or one of their allies, had entered the Porch system and engaged Axis ships. That they have appeared suddenly leads us to believe there was previously unknown closed warp point in Porch. Also, from the intercepted information we’ve obtained, the aliens were lying in wait and ambushed the Axis ships being sent to the front lines.”
Brant made an Eleto’s equivalent of a nod. “That means they had the Porch system under surveillance for some time, and the boneheads weren’t the wiser for it.”
Smiler grunted. “How likely do you think the alien Commonwealth force knows about our system?”
“Very likely,” Lake offered. “The last transmission from Porch was when the comm and scanner buoys at the warp point leading back to Eleto were destroyed by a small craft. If the aliens have been observing Porch long enough to pick the time and place to ambush the Axis ships then we can expect them to assault the Axis warp point defenses within a few weeks, if not days.”
It was Brant’s turn to look serious. “If they’re evacuating the civilians, by the time they’re done won’t they start nuking the planet to exterminate us, just like they boast about doing to primitive races in their history texts?”
“Not if we can help it,” Lake said with a pair of smiles. “I’ve already enacted the contingency plans. Now that both the governor and military commander are in one place, and at a prime target no less, we can ensure that no nuclear bombardment can occur. Even with one of them dead the boneheads can’t authorize a bombardment since they’re sticklers in following protocols and consensus. With both dead they will have to wait for verified authorization from the Comensal homeworld, and that will not happen if the aliens are successful in securing the system.”
Smiler grunted again. “Your contingency plans, Lake, include the destruction of the spaceport and its attached military base. That means using one of the boneheads’ own antimatter warheads. All the other antimatter warheads for their space fighters will go up as well. The city of Millstand is near that spaceport…”
Lake lifted a pair of forestalling hands. “The boneheads have been steadily reducing the population of Millstand over the decades by forcing offspring to move elsewhere and destroying empty homes, businesses, infrastructure and foundations. Only 20,000 remain, all senior citizens. Leaving the spaceport and its contingent of small craft and fighters intact will lend to their use in the extermination of our race. It will be on my conscious for the rest of my days, and I will gladly answer for it, even damnation, if we succeed in our liberation, but I will be damned nonetheless if we didn’t destroy that spaceport when we had the chance.”
Smiler rubbed the tuft of hair on the top of his head. “Lake, just when will you need our operatives go into action?”
“When the warp point defenses announce they’re under attack. We’ll know as soon as the boneheads at the spaceport are informed. They’ll still be evacuating civilians because some of the small craft are moving minefield patterns and weapon buoys slated for the front lines to the warp point. That will give us the time we need.”
“And I will need that time,” said Brent, his four-stalked eyes looking eager. “I have a plan for the Millstand inhabitants that’s been in the works for decades. ASP has been using Millstand as a practice ground for new agents. Those boneheads are going to find out what senior citizens with plenty of spare time are capable of.”
