A Dark and Dirty War, page 28
“Don’t you see how they might become a major impediment, especially if this Kowalski is a potential Grand Admiral?”
“I do, but now is not the time to strike. Go home, let the Fleet do as it will because neither of us can change its course. Welcome the thirty-six as if they were your dearest blood relations, make a big show if you can stomach it, and move on. There will be other opportunities, and even if Holt’s counterintelligence specialists build a dossier on the Athena incident, nothing can touch you.”
When a disturbed and far from reassured Sara Lauzier left SSB headquarters, Hersom called in his operations chief.
“I’m proceeding on the assumption naval counterintelligence traced the communication chain between the Confederacy of the Howling Stars and us at this point. Issue orders to terminate everyone upstream of our people with extreme prejudice. I want existing links between the Confederacy and the SSB eliminated.”
“Aren’t they too useful for a complete break, sir?”
“They’ve become a liability for reasons I can’t discuss even with you, Dan. Sorry. If we need them again, we’ll do so via new channels which can’t be linked to the current ones.”
Dan bowed his head. “Very well, sir. I’ll send out the orders right away.”
“And while you’re at it, ask your contacts at Fleet HQ if they know the whereabouts of the 101st Battle Group. It seems to have vanished. No one I spoke with knew anything.”
When he was once more alone, Hersom turned to face the window, settled back, elbows on the arms of his high-backed executive chair, fingertips touching, and stared out at Lake Geneva shimmering under the bright morning sun. Helping Sara Lauzier with her insane scheme was looking more and more like a tactical mistake. Building new linkages with the Confederacy of the Howling Stars, while annoying, wouldn’t be a big deal. No one in that organization knew they were often hired by the Commonwealth’s security police via anonymous agents to carry out black ops.
No. What worried Hersom was whether or not Dunmoore found evidence in the Zone that the likes of Holt could use to undermine the SSB either directly or via Sara Lauzier. He shook his head. Dunmoore. If it wasn’t for her, the scheme might have worked perfectly, and his hirelings would have ‘rescued’ Athena, giving him complete control over how the rest of the story unfolded. And over dear Sara.
But no. Fate intervened — again. It was enough to make him wonder about the wisdom of terminating Dunmoore with extreme prejudice. Her death wouldn’t create quite the same ripples as those of Kowalski and Holt. After all, she was out on the frontier, far from the seat of power, and many in the Fleet weren’t pleased with her belated promotion. A least based on what his acquaintances in uniform told him.
Perhaps a warning might be appropriate as a first step. Pity Holt, like every other senior intelligence officer, lived in a residential housing unit on the base, where casual visitors weren’t admitted without permission. A laudable precaution in a city teeming with political backstabbers, blackmailers, and other assorted coercion artists, including those who didn’t shy from more forceful methods. But it made a subtle approach difficult. So be it.
Several minutes later, Commodore Ezekiel Holt’s face appeared on Hersom’s office display. Though he showed no reaction at a call from the SSB’s director general, he could almost sense curiosity oozing from every pore, even through a secure comlink.
“What can I do for you, Mister Hersom?”
“Join me for a cup of coffee or tea in the Palace of the Stars’ Commonwealth Café. How does fifteen hundred hours this afternoon sound?”
Holt nodded.
“I can do that. Fifteen hundred hours it is.”
“See you then.”
Hersom cut the link and turned his chair to face the lake again.
When he entered the almost empty café a few minutes before three, Hersom found Commodore Holt already seated in one of the private booths by the east-facing, floor-to-ceiling windows, nursing a cup of green tea. Hersom grabbed a coffee at the bar and joined him moments later.
“Thank you for coming, Commodore.”
Both men studied each other for a few seconds.
“I’ll confess to overwhelming curiosity, Mister Hersom. You’re not in the habit of meeting flag officers informally on neutral ground.”
“Seeing as how we both serve the Commonwealth, isn’t the term neutral ground a bit overwrought? Aren’t we on the same side?” Hersom took a sip of coffee. “They do it better here than anywhere else. At least in my opinion.”
“Probably, but I’ve reached my daily caffeine intake limit. So, why am I here?” Holt asked, pointedly ignoring Hersom’s questions.
“Did you know this was once called the Serpent Bar, back in the days before the Palace became the seat of humanity’s interstellar government? It’s a shame the first SecGen changed it. The original name was not only amusing but on point, considering the business transacted in this complex by our honorable elected officials.”
Holt raised his tea mug and, before taking a sip, said, “I’ve studied the Palace’s history, among others.”
“Good for you. History is a fascinating subject, one whose importance few people understand. Which is why it has a habit of repeating itself, to humanity’s detriment. And isn’t that the essence of our jobs, yours and mine? Trying to prevent the worst parts of history repeating?”
Another sip.
“Take the growing unrest in the colonies and outer sectors these days, for example. Doesn’t that remind you of another dark era, one which saw hundreds of millions dead, whole cities razed, and marginal settlements made uninhabitable? Part of it, of course, is human nature, civilization being merely a thin veneer hiding the primitive beast. But what shatters that veneer is often loss of trust in the institutions that bind our societies. Sometimes, they no longer deserve said trust, or as certain civilizations put it long ago, they lose the mandate of heaven. Sometimes, the people are seized by the madness of a cause and turn on the one thing keeping the beast at bay — our venerable institutions. Yet too often, no matter who’s at fault, the end results are disastrous, and that is something you and I, and those alongside whom we serve must prevent.”
“Indeed, Mister Hersom. However, we, the protectors of the state, also frequently disagree on what should and shouldn’t be done. What’s moral or immoral, democratic or tyrannical, right or wrong.”
“Oh, absolutely, Commodore. That’s why we must find common ground to build a joint vision, one aimed at preserving our institutions and the peace that depends on their smooth functioning. And while doing so, we cannot let the failings and foibles of individuals, perhaps even their misdeeds, stand in our way. On the contrary, we should always take the long view, no matter what obstacles or hiccups occur in the short term. It accrues not only to our advantage but that of society as a whole.” He flashed a smile at Holt. “Who indeed wants to be known as the one guilty of needlessly precipitating a crisis?”
Hersom finished his coffee, placed the cup on the table, and stood.
“Thank you for joining me. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
— Forty-Three —
“If that wasn’t a clear warning to stay away from Sara Lauzier no matter what evidence we uncover, I wouldn’t know what it is,” Kathryn Kowalski said after Holt recounted his meeting with Blayne Hersom the previous afternoon word for word.
“He’s nobody’s fool. Our little conversation was clearly an attempt at telling me, and thereby you that pursuing the Athena matter after Siobhan recovered it and the passengers wouldn’t be in anyone’s interests. And he’s right insofar as the current political situation is concerned. Let Lauzier believe she won’t be called to account and bide our time, even if Siobhan brings back concrete evidence from the 101st’s raid in the Cullan system. Her father and his successor can smooth over troubled colonial waters and gain the Commonwealth a bit of breathing space, enough time to figure out how we can dispel the growing clouds of discord.”
Kowalski nodded.
“I agree. And I’m surprised Hersom proved to be so rational.”
“He’s nothing if not clear-headed. Pretty much everything he said made sense. If I weren’t such a cynic, I might actually have felt a degree of kinship with him, which was obviously his intent.”
“So, what’s the conclusion?”
“No different from what I suggested before. Siobhan recovered Athena and everyone aboard, and she started the work of scouring the Zone, which means our principal objectives are being achieved. We continue building the dossier on Sara Lauzier for the day she begins her campaign to become SecGen in earnest, identify her backers and build their dossiers as well. Meanwhile, we make sure the 101st Battle Group continues cleaning up our frontiers, which should go a long way in assuaging nervous OutWorlds and colonies and remove that particular irritant from the relationship with Earth.”
“Letting Sara get away with it.”
Holt nodded.
“If that’s what it takes to prevent a crisis. Now is not the time. We, too, must build up our strength so we can give your plan a chance of success, Kathryn. Our turn will come.”
“Will you tell the CNI about meeting with Hersom?”
“I have no choice in the matter. Every contact with the SSB gets recorded, especially when it’s at such a high level, and yes, I stated my belief Hersom was warning us off Sara Lauzier.”
“What was Admiral Doxiadis’ reaction?”
“Build a dossier, but let this one go. After all, the plan failed.”
Kowalski allowed herself a quick grimace.
“Then she’ll look for other ways to dispose of the individuals on her list.”
“Not our problem, so long as she doesn’t also look for other ways of sowing dissension in the colonies. One of my colleagues has people hunting potential agents provocateurs in the Rim Sector. If they succeed, we’ll no doubt uncover linkages to the SSB as well.”
“Which means once Siobhan’s back in Commonwealth space with the thirty-six, this particular operation is over, and she goes hunting pirates. While we’re on that subject, I’ve been thinking about enhancing the 101st’s strike capabilities. The Marine Corps fields Pathfinder companies, one per regiment, whose job is reconnoitering, seizing, and securing beachheads.”
Holt nodded.
“Yes. Crazy people who jump out of perfectly good shuttles from low orbit. Although, in fairness, the truly crazy ones are in the 1st Special Forces Regiment. They jump in but not to prepare the way for a regiment. Black ops, creating havoc behind enemy lines, hitting organized crime nodes, terrorists and insurgents, that sort of thing.”
“Right. What I was thinking is that the 101st needs a hybrid of the two. A reinforced Pathfinder company embarked in Iolanthe, one whose mission is acting as Siobhan’s surgical scalpel when rods from God aren’t the right solution. Give them a flight of dropships, perhaps a few gunships and some infantry fighting vehicles, organic artillery, and organic combat engineers — a mini battalion group. Lord knows there’s enough room for everything three times over. That way, if a mission calls for direct action on the ground, the 101st can deliver them, provide orbital fire support, and extract them when it’s done. No matter how good a naval boarding or landing party is, it can never be as good as Marines, especially those from the Special Forces.”
“I’ve heard the idea bandied about during the war, but nothing ever came of it. If memory serves, I think Siobhan even wrote a paper on the subject while she was teaching at the War College, one of her less controversial essays.”
A sly smile appeared on Kowalski’s face.
“I forwarded a copy with my comments and suggestions to General Espinoza, seeing as how the Marines for this task would come from SOCOM, with Espinoza assigning operational control to the 101st’s Flag Officer Commanding.”
“Do you think he’ll consider it?”
Her smile widened.
“Oh, yes. The idea of projecting Special Forces into the Zone and other parts of the frontier as the ground element of a dedicated naval formation created for that precise purpose, rather than on an ad hoc basis, is like catnip to him and his staff. They’ve been looking for missions that justify SOCOM’s expansion. It hasn’t done well in terms of funding and personnel since the war. Suppose the idea I borrowed from Siobhan works. In that case, they can create more of these reinforced Pathfinder companies and assign them the job of rapid reaction force throughout the Commonwealth, embarked in dedicated Q ships and other vessels of sufficient size.”
Holt let out a soft chuckle.
“Espinoza will love that. Does it mean the Q ships will return to his command?”
“That’s the enticement if he seems hesitant.”
“Wait. Didn’t you mention something about the 101st going to SOCOM anyway after the current mission is completed?”
“Yes, but so far, it hasn’t been made official.”
“Sneaky.”
Kowalski took a seated bow.
“Why, thank you, kind sir.”
“When do you expect an answer?”
“Soon. Espinoza knows as well as I do that our window of opportunity is limited. Once the Athena business fades from the consciousness of our superiors and the government, interest in experimenting with Special Forces as part of the 101st will wane quickly.”
**
Holt found Blayne Hersom on the restaurant terrace, wine glass in hand, watching the rays of a late afternoon sun dance over Lake Geneva as it kissed the top of the Jura Mountains to the west. He took the other chair, turned it to face in the same direction, and sat.
“I’ve spent a considerable amount of time reflecting on our previous conversation over the last few days, Mister Hersom.”
“Did you, Commodore? I suppose that’s a good thing.” Hersom’s eyes never left the lake. “And what conclusions did you reach?”
“Conclusion, singular. Rear Admiral Dunmoore destroyed the Confederacy of the Howling Stars squadron that hijacked Athena a few days ago in the Cullan system. Seven ships in total. That should clip the wings of your tame mercenaries. Tell me, can the SSB’s black budget afford replacements from the Arkanna, even at their low, low prices? Because I assume you gave them seed money in the first place. Or will you direct the funds to some other shipyards now that we’ve zeroed in on the modifications characteristic of those knockoffs and can detect their trace everywhere?
“Anyhow, as far as the Fleet is concerned, the matter has been resolved, or it will be once Siobhan’s battle group reaches Starbase 30 and places the last thirty-six of Athena’s passengers in civilian hands. You may consider the information she extracted from the Confederacy squadron commander as being memory-holed under so many classification layers that even the Grand Admiral cannot access her report. I believe this meets the intent of our common goals.”
Hersom took a sip of his white wine and nodded.
“It does.”
“Then do me a favor, from one professional to another. Tell Sara Lauzier the next time she tries something of the sort, she will not escape unscathed. The Fleet’s goodwill is as finite as is its patience, and Sara exhausted both. I understand she expects to become SecGen in twelve years, if not six. The last thing she needs is the enmity of the known galaxy’s most powerful military force. Imagine what would happen if her true nature — that of a depraved, soulless, calculating sociopath, became common knowledge.”
“That’s quite the libelous accusation, my dear Commodore. She is an honorable servant of the Commonwealth, trusted by senators, bureaucrats, and the SecGen himself.”
Holt didn’t immediately reply. Instead, he let a full minute elapse while his eyes rested on the Palace of the Stars, spread out along the far shore.
“One last piece of advice. Don’t involve the SSB in any other schemes to support Sara’s twisted goals or set yourself against us. It will not end well, that I can guarantee. This was your one and only freebie.” Holt climbed to his feet. “Between us students of history, familiarizing yourself with an early twentieth-century event called the Night of the Long Knives can be instructive. Enjoy the rest of your day, Mister Hersom.”
Holt turned away, but before he could take two steps, Hersom’s voice momentarily stopped him.
“I admire your forthrightness, Commodore, misplaced as it may be. If I were you, I’d always be sure of my audience before speaking. Please give my regards to Admiral Dunmoore the next time you contact her.”
For reasons Holt couldn’t explain, Hersom’s final sentence, spoken in a gentle, almost amused tone, sent an icy shiver up his spine. But he neither replied nor looked back as he walked away.
**
“Message delivered, sir,” Holt announced when Admiral Doxiadis gestured at him to enter the office and take a seat. “But I felt a strange vibe from him.”
Holt relayed the brief conversation almost verbatim and finished with the eerie feeling he got as he left the restaurant patio.
“Blayne Hersom says nothing that isn’t fraught with hidden meaning. Was he threatening you and Siobhan Dunmoore with reprisal for your role in making Sara Lauzier’s scheme collapse?” Doxiadis shrugged. “Perhaps. But he also enjoys playing mind games with adversaries, and you threatened him and the SSB quite openly on the Fleet’s behalf, something that likely took him by complete surprise.”
A wry smile appeared on Holt’s lips.
“Us changing the rules of the game unilaterally? There’s no doubt I took him by surprise, sir. But at least now he understands we are no longer letting him operate beyond the rule of law with impunity. Oh, and I doubt he was happy that we found out the SSB has been funding the Confederacy of the Howling Stars. But, you know, if we really want to engage in mischief, perhaps anonymously leaking a bit of what we discovered about the SSB to Sara Lauzier might sow dissension between them. You remember the old toast — confusion to the enemy.”
“Let me think about it, Zeke. Too much of a good thing can ricochet back on us.”
