19. Changing Power
The pistol rested within the coordinator’s reach, but completely out of the doctor's sight. They sat alone, in Sinclair's office. She rattled off the achievements of the Fenrite Discover Council as she browsed through the notes of her own portable. He sat quiet with his hands folded before him.
He already knew everything she was spouting, knew that she was simply crowing like some beauty contestant that had just won first prize. He let her continue. If she wanted to give her own eulogy, he wouldn't spoil it.
"A research ship is now in orbit at Fenrir." she said. "We have landing teams moving back and forth from the surface to orbital labs in successive rotations. There is no apparent risk from the virus. It was designed to attack cold-blooded creatures and it remains in its original form, no mutations. Techs and researchers are going through all of the Fenrite labs even as we speak. Some of the findings are quite remarkable.
"We've found out everything we could from the moon biosphere. I have researchers sifting through the details, but there was no need to keep the remnants of the colony intact. We've shut it down and removed all traces. The only thing left is the data at EMOF. That will remain as the center for further study, but no one else will ever now just how close a Fenrite colony was to earth.
"Even the Authority has become slightly more accessible lately. I think they now understand that the proper elimination of the Fenrites saved them from many unnecessary headaches. They're helping to keep the Fenrir system secure just in case any of these media nuts try to get curious. I doubt there'll be a problem."
She clicked off her portable with a satisfied thump of her right index finger. Then, she leaned back in her wide chair as if to say "See what a good job I did."
With a nod, she offered her own conclusion. "All in all, it ended surprisingly well, don't you think?"
"Well," Jack almost stumbled with his words, but he focused on his own considerations and forced a reply, "actually there are some lingering problems."
Sinclair's brow furrowed, but only slightly. "You worry too much, Jack. Of course there are some things that must be addressed, but that's why I'm leaving the council intact for a while. We'll smooth out the edges and all of that."
Jack shook his head somberly and Sinclair thought she understood.
"I know there are some points of true concern," she offered. "Things that may not be as easily solved as I would like, but I don't think they'll become true stumbling blocks. It was a big operation, but the council maintained tight control through it all." She hesitated, but just for a moment. She pulled herself forward, though her heavy frame fought against the attempt. "One thing that remains bothersome is the current situation with an associate council member that has quit. Dr. Farmer left quite unhappily. I loath to discuss it, but I'm not sure I can be certain of his intentions."
"Small potatoes," Jack dismissed almost unilaterally.
"Excuse me?" Sinclair's eyes opened just a bit wider. "I know he's handed in all of his notes, but he still knows everything that happened, both on Fenrir and on the moon base. I would hardly consider that kind of person small potatoes."
Jack huffed a light chuckle. "Do you have any idea just how many people know something or another about this project? If you think Farmer's the only threat, then you really haven't been paying attention."
The temperature seemed to drop a degree or two as Dr. Sinclair took the remark rather badly. "I've been paying very close attention, especially to security. Everyone that has inside information has been accounted for, unless of course you're referring to Scampion." Here, she did not hesitate, and she placed blame exactly where she felt it belonged. "Need I remind you of who was supposed resolve that little problem? Hmmm?"
"No, but I think you need to understand what's really going on here," Jack shot back, answering her coldness with a stern demeanor that seemed out of place on his narrow features. "This isn't just a little puzzle that fell apart and you put back together. There are lasting effects that you're not even considering. The Authority broke ranks. Espial, too. For a while, Regency Govern had absolutely no control over its military or intelligence. Do you understand what that means?"
"Politics, and I'm not concerned…"
"Well, you better be concerned," the coordinator rebuffed sternly. "Politics is what this is all about; it's what your council was about. It's maintaining control, giving direction to a society of people spread across a galaxy. It's not some bad word used to shrug off some impropriety. Govern needs to know it maintains control, the public needs to know it maintains control. That's no longer the case."
Sinclair frowned deeply. "The public has no idea what happened. I think you're just talking about a few bruised egos on the main council. Tell them to grow up."
The coordinator could not suppress his consternation.
"A few egos? Hmmmm… I don't think so. Look, do I have to spell this out for you? It's over. There are too many cracks in the wall. It's going to break, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. You've created too many enemies. It's not just Farmer, it's nearly everyone involved in the project. You want an example? How about your liaison? What you did to Skysdale was a real piece of work. I'm sure he's not going to forget this."
"He won't say anything," Sinclair argued with near disdain. "He knows it'll cost the Authority too much."
"The Authority itself isn't sure it won't go public," Jack stated somberly. "The rift is there, even if you don't want to see it. This was a bad idea from day one. How it ever got this far is as much a miracle as it is a sin. But one thing's for sure. It's over."
He pulled the pistol out from behind his suit jacket.
Dr. Sinclair turned gray, gray like rain clouds in early March. "Just what do you think you're doing?"
"Trying to make you understand what you're facing. What we're all facing. Regency's ready to crumble unless somebody does something to save it."
"What… what are you going to do with that?"
"What needs to be done."
Sinclair could draw but one conclusion. "Murder? You think murdering me is going to save Regency?!"
"No, not murder. It's suicide."
#
To his own surprise, Rath completed the two runs without incident. Despite the absence of persecution at the Exploratory Council, a shred of paranoia still bit as his consciousness. Each time he launched he thought his ship was going to explode. Every time he was in full push, he waited for the impact of a tracker torpedo. Both times he reached the secluded drop off points; he expected a light cruiser to blow him into space dust. But nothing happened, not when he launched, not while he was in push, and not during his isolated maneuvers in deep space.
He returned to Janus with his missions complete, both the navigation buoy and the communication booster in place. The freight pads welcomed him with the normalcy he was used to. He looked over his shoulder more out of anxiety than out of expectation, but no one followed. He got on the magnorail alone. He even bought a planetary lottery ticket.
Again, he ignored the warehouse district. He returned to midtown and the Exploratory Council to acknowledge completion and accept final payment.
The rep noted there were a few more quick runs in the expired list if he wanted them.
Rath didn't disappoint the hopeful clerk. He accepted one, but said he wasn't going to launch for a day or two.
That was fine with the rep. He was simply happy to see another expired bid removed from his backlog.
Janus was warm that day, and a light breeze kept Rath's spirits fresh. He walked through the streets with a little more kick to his step.
These small runs weren't so bad. Maybe he should do more of this. His ship was a scout, but that didn't prevent him from the little odd jobs that no one else seemed to care about. He could handle a dozen or so of these small excursions in a month, maybe even work with a courier service. They always needed more pilots and ships to deliver financial records and account services. The pay wasn't as good as what he could get from a scout load of emeralds, but he didn't need that much. He had his savings, and he had a new ship. Why bust his hump just for money?
He looked at his wristband to note the time and he remembered the lottery ticket he had just purchased. The drawing was due. By the time he got to a link, they'd list the numbers.
A quick lasercable link to a public access and Rath was downloading.
"Let's see what we got here," he noted with a hint of expectation, a little more optimism than his tone normally allowed. His smile grew as he compared the numbers. He didn't have them all, but he had enough.
"Seven out of ten. How 'bout that. That's gotta be worth something."
He ran a quick check to access the payouts.
"Not bad. I'll take that. Take it any day." He quickly swiped his wristband and the ticket across the public link reader. In less than a minute, the electronic lottery agent deposited new funds into his account.
#
The gun felt uncomfortable in Jack's hand, out of place. It wasn't his style, and the way it shook in his long fingers proved it.
"And it really is suicide," he mumbled. "You killed yourself, but you just don't want to accept it."
It was hard for Dr. Sinclair to accept anything at that moment. Panic gripped her. She couldn't call out. She couldn't think straight. All she could do was look at Jack and the pistol which remained pointed at her forehead.
The tension had its own affect on the coordinator as he spoke through a clenched jaw. "Think about it Elizabeth, think about what you've really accomplished. You did all of this for science, for the advancement of knowledge. Nobody doubts that. From the beginning it was clear that you were worried about research failing in some way or another. It failed to find what you were really looking for. It failed to find the alien link you and many others believed was the key to understanding the universe. But when you didn't find it, you panicked."
"I did what was necessary!" Her voice trembled with obvious fear as she continued to glance back and forth from Jack's face to the barrel of the gun.
"No, I think you did what you wanted to do, and most of it was unnecessary. I guess it was a grand plan, in scale as well as in content. There was a hint of genius in the unexpected, and you sold it with a savvy that rivaled my own. But where did it get you, where did it get us? The defining lines which kept Regency organized, yet whole, have broken apart. What was once power is now weakness, and we're facing threats from all sides, from blackmailing pirates to renegade generals. Anytime Regency attempts to make a move in the future, this thing's going to rear its ugly head, unless we do something about it now."
His hand shook a little more as he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. He tried once more to steady himself, but the attempt fell short.
"You're really not going to use that, are you?" The doctor said still grayfaced. Her voice still trembled, but she demonstrated a growing alertness to Jack's own discomfort. This, and only this, gave her a shred of hope.
The coordinator raised an eyebrow. "I don't want to. I don't think I'm going to have to." He pulled a small vial out of his jacket pocket. "I think this will do more appropriately. Cyanide. Still the quickest way to go."
The gray appeared to strengthen its hold on the doctor once more.
"I don't expect you're ready just yet to take them on your own," Jack added.
"What? Are you going to force them down my throat?" The image of the rail-like coordinator forcing anything upon the large framed scientist was more comical than possible, but of course, there was still the matter of the pistol. Sinclair fell back upon other hopes. "There are people outside. If you shoot me or if you try to make me eat those, they'll hear. No one is going to believe this suicide garbage!"
"I'm not going to force you to take anything. And you're right; I'm not going to shoot you." He slipped the gun back under his lapel. "I brought that along just to get your attention, just to let you know how serious this is."
The removal of the gun brought a sense of pause, a moment where both the scientist and the coordinator could regroup. Jack spoke up first.
"As for suicide, I'll let you be the judge of that. I don't think there's much doubt when you look at the whole picture that your real life is over. What is it you care about, Elizabeth? Influence? Control? Knowledge? Research? Power?! Are these the things that drive you, give you a reason to get up in the morning? Well, they're gone." He shook his head once before reciting sanctions in quick succession. "As of this moment, your career is finished. You are no longer a council member. You are no longer a part of Regency Science. Your licenses are revoked. Your privileges canceled. You are no longer permitted to request transcripts from any scientific jurisdiction. Your com clearance is removed. All other councils have already been informed of your disposition. They know that discussing any form of research with you is now a breach of Regency security. But I'm afraid it doesn't end there. You are banned from earth. In fact, you will need special clearance for all shuttle transfers and space flights, and only outer rim planets will allow you landing clearance."
Jack decided to unveil the full truth. “I doubt you believe me, so go ahead, use your portable, try to gain clearance… for anything. When that doesn’t work use your comlinks. Try to contact anyone. And when you’re finished with that, check your travel clearances, your accounts, and your own personal files, even the encoded ones.”
The doctor obeyed, not out of respect to the coordinator, but to deny this unspeakable truth. She worked furiously at all the displays before her. Her efforts were fruitless. Passcodes she had buried long ago for emergency accounts were as useless as simple requests for a shuttle transport permit.
"You can't do this!" the doctor bellowed as if suddenly and viciously impaled with a spear.
Jack's face grew slightly crimson. "You think this is just me? This is Regency. Council members, generals, coordinators, scientists and researchers; everyone that represents the internal strength of this society. We've only got one route to take on this, one hand to play. This is only the first move, and let me tell you, it's no where near the hardest."
Sinclair opted for the only response which came to her clouded mind. "I'll reveal everything I know. I'll release my notes and my…"
"How?" Jack interrupted. "Check your portable. Try to link to the coms. Or are you going to run out of here and go talk to the media. Go ahead. What's it going to get you? You think you're going to get your life back. You're the one responsible for all this, remember? No ones going to forgive you. Actually, if you really want to make a statement, I'll round up the media crews for you. It will make the road ahead a little easier."
She looked at him with disbelieving eyes. He was bluffing, or so she thought, but then again, maybe not. He seemed ready, even willing, to follow through, as if he wanted her to involve the media. Uncertain of herself, for one of the few times in her life, she said nothing.
The coordinator exhaled heavily. "You see, it doesn't matter what you do anymore. Your life is over. No one murdered you, you committed suicide."
He put the pills on the desk in front of her, said nothing more, and left the office.
#
"Dr. Farmer, my name is Jack Lasonelli. I used to work as a coordinator between many of the Regency councils."
Dr. Farmer allowed the stranger to enter his home, even after the admission of working for Regency, but if the scientist was concerned about his own safety, it didn't show. He realized when he walked out on Sinclair that he was doing more than just jeopardizing his career. He really didn't care then, and he certainly didn't appear to care now. Anger served him more than fear these past few days, an anger born out of what Regency did to the Fenrites. He spoke bluntly without considering formalities.
"Coordinator, huh? Never liked you guys. More like little jackals if you ask me," Framer noted near caustically. "But you said 'used to work'. What does that mean? You quit, take a different job? Assassin?"
Jack immediately liked this man. Maybe it was his attitude in the face of very possible danger, maybe it was the way he cut to the chase, or maybe it was the blatant honesty. The coordinator thus answered with a respective, if not courteous, tone.
"In truth, it means Regency doesn't have cause or need right now for coordinators. There are so many internal struggles and breakdowns that a coordinator can't really help to get anything accomplished."
"So what are you now, and what do you want with me?"
"I suppose I'm more of an agent for Regency Govern."
"You're high up, aren't you," Farmer scoffed. If the mention of the highest council was supposed to impress him, he made it clear that it didn't. "Doesn't make much never mind to me. Regency stinks from top to bottom."
Jack replied almost humbly, decided to explain his position despite the doctor's opinion. "I was a rather successful coordinator when Regency operated as it should. It allowed me to work with Govern. I guess in that respect, I gained their trust."
"Well, you don't have mine. I don't care who you work for. You're just another clown to me."
"I guess that's also true, and since I know of your background, I can even understand it."
"Buttering me up won't help you, either. So why don't you get to whatever it is you're here for."
"Fine, I'm here to offer you a seat on the Exploratory Council. Not a subcommittee, not an advisor position or even a temporary seat. I'm here to offer you a permanent seat on the main body, full privileges and fully sanctioned."
Farmer tilted his head slightly, bore into the stranger's face as if measuring his expression. He accepted the offer as sincere, but he offered his own interpretations as to the worth of such a seat.
"At one time that would have made me happy, now it just makes me laugh. The councils are a joke. They let this happen, encouraged it. They used science. Used it to create something for their own twisted purposes, and when they were through with it, they just destroyed it. How can I work for something like that?" He eyed the coordinator cynically. "How can anyone work for something like that?"
Jack scratched his head, but decided not to argue over his own merits.
"You're right; they have become a joke, a dangerous joke. It's not something that anyone should be proud of, but what's happened has happened. What we need to do now is fix it. Regency needs people like you. People to fix it."
"Like I said before, don't bother trying to butter me up," Farmer jeered. "Sticking a candle up my ass and telling me it's sunshine won't make it burn any less."
Jack could not hold back a laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to tell you anything is sunshine. In fact, I think it's going to be a long time before we see anything that is bright and happy. There's a tough road ahead."
"And maybe you don't want me to make it any tougher, hmmm? What do you think, you want to buy me off with some position? You want to give me something to lose to make sure I stay quiet? Well, don't bother. I don't want it. Not that I have any intention of talking, but I guess you probably won't believe that, either."
"I'll accept anything you say."
One last time, the scientist looked deep into the expression of the coordinator. "What do you really want? Are you just worried about what I might say or do? I can't believe Sinclair isn't concerned about that. I was on her council, remember? I found out what happened to some lower ranking research techs that appeared to be a security threat. I didn't say anything back then, I was too wrapped up in my work." He paused as he bit down on his bottom lip. He shook his head with a demeanor of disgust. "That's a lousy excuse. I should have walked out right there."
He stood up straight, as if accepting what would happen next. "I don't want any position on your council. I'm disgusted enough with myself over what I've already let happen. I'm not going to be part of anymore cover ups."
"We're not going to cover anything up," Jack revealed flatly. "In fact, we're scheduling a media conference right now. We're going to broadcast to the entire Regency public, reveal just about the whole thing." Jack, prepared for Farmer's skepticism, began to list exactly what would be announced. "We will admit that a council of scientists created the Fenrites through a procedure of cross-genetic cloning. We will admit that Govern became aware of the project, but only after the Fenrites were in place. We will admit that the Authority helped to secure the system, but they believed the alien was genuine. We will admit to the creation of the Fenrite Discovery Council and all of its actions. We will admit to the use of biological weapons to destroy the Fenrites."
Jack continued with a straight-faced explanation.
"None of this is a denial of the truth, but I do have to warn you that there are some things we are not willing to reveal. We will not allow the public to know of the split between the Authority and Govern. We will not let the people think that the main council encouraged this experiment. In effect, we will simply reveal the events as they occurred."
Farmer rubbed his chin, drank in the deluge of information. In truth, these were things he wanted to hear, things he believed the public should know about. Of course, there was the matter of accountability.
"And you're going to place the blame entirely on Dr. Sinclair?" There was a note of skepticism, but also a twinge of hope in Farmer's question.
"Yes. Do you believe that's unfair?"
The scientist took long moments to consider the full merit of such a proposal. "Maybe. There were some things she wasn't directly responsible for, but then again, anything that happened occurred because of the original decision. And that was hers. She wanted this experiment. It was her idea to suggest the anomaly and it was her proposal to create the Fenrites. She was certainly in control of the Fenrite Discovery Council." He rubbed his hands together lightly. "I guess maybe it is appropriate."
A gleam lit in the doctor's eyes. "Does she know about this? How is she taking it?"
The coordinator answered directly. "She committed suicide. Took cyanide after she was informed of the decision."
"Suicide?" He wasn't prepared for this, and though it did not cause him pain, it did bring a trace of disbelief.
Jack quickly explained. "Not that I expect you to give any credence to the word of a coordinator, but I assure you, she took the pills on her own."
"Why?" Farmer demanded, still in a state of disbelief.
"Her career was over. That, Regency was responsible for. We revoked everything she worked for, but can you really blame us? Can you?"
Farmer was stone-faced in his simple reply. "No."
"The blame will be placed on Dr. Sinclair, and most agree that's where it belongs. Right now, we need people to clean up the mess. There are going to be hard questions, and we need people with the answers. We need to put Regency back together. If you help, you can make sure something like this doesn't happen again."
Farmer frowned, but accepted. "I'll take the position, but I'll scream holy murder if I find out you haven't been straight with me."
Jack looked to the floor, but spoke very clearly. "There is then one thing I should make clear right now, as I don’t want it to be misunderstood in the future. I met with Sinclair just before she died. I told her of the sanctions against her. I placed the pills on her desk before I left, but I did not make her take them. She did that on her own. But, it was what I had hoped for. Do you wish to change your mind about the position?"
Dr. Farmer revealed no sign of sorrow or distress. He tapped his fingers together lightly as he gave his simple response.
"No."
#
Rath sat in a large, busy tavern when the briefing occurred. The feed was carried to Janus on a courier ship. The actual mediacast occurred over five standard hours ago, but this was the first anyone on Janus heard of the jolting revelation. A minister from the Regency Bureau of Information read a prepared statement before taking questions.
The words struck at Rath like bullets. He stared in stunned disbelief as the minister revealed everything; the unnatural creation of an alien, the planting of colonies on Fenrir, the unfettered advancement of the Fenrites.
Blame was placed squarely on some scientist who just committed suicide, though the minister acknowledged an ongoing investigation into her death. The Authority was named, as were many of the councils, but their roles were confined to actions based on misrepresentations of the scientist in charge and the false pretenses of an alien existence. Jack, the coordinator whose business it was to lie, was not mentioned.
Rath found that point interesting, but he wasn't mentioned, either. And for the moment, the media reps did not consider the role of the initial scout.
"They'll get around to it," he muttered.
Not a pleasant thought, but a more unnerving consideration quickly removed any concern over media questions. What was Regency going to do with him now? He was allowed to return to his life because of the deal Angelo had made with the coordinator. But what now? That deal wasn't worth spit. He was safe as long as Regency wanted to hide the truth about the Fenrites, but they were coming clean on their own.
The heavy load was right back on Rath's shoulders, but this time it brought with it panic - shaking, mind-clouding, disorienting panic. Within the bar, all eyes remained fixed on the three dimensional display of the information minister, but Rath kept sensing a focus on himself, as if the people knew he was part of this, and they weren't about to let him go.
He paid his tab with a quick swipe of his wristband before he clumsily rose to his feet. He almost fell.
Still, those around him watched the mediacast. No one called out; no one attempted to stop him.
He moved through the crowd, trying to make his way to the door. Grunts of disapproval greeted him as he slowly nudged through the throng gathered about the monitor. It was like walking though a jungle. Worse, it felt like every pair of hands was ready to take hold, to stop him from fleeing.
He tried to hold back a cough, but in the end, it forced its way out louder. A few more grunts of displeasure demanded silence.
Finally, thankfully, he reached the door. He wanted to glance over his shoulder, but he didn't take the chance. If he had, he would have noticed that no one was paying attention.
The streets were empty. Everyone had entered a tavern or
communications center to watch the media cast. It felt good to be out in the open, but only for a moment. New fears entered his brain, unsubstantiated fears, but no less disquieting. He shied away from alleys, looked to the rooftops in search of secretive movements. He saw nothing, but he remained far from convinced of his own safety. He tensed as if expecting an assassin's bullet in the back.
His thoughts swam back to his last encounter with Regency. They had followed him to the pirate base of Semele. They were in the process of leveling the complex when a stroke of simple fate redirected the efforts of Authority gunners. They wanted him dead then, why would they want to keep him alive now?
He looked to a magnorail station, but decided against it. He stayed on the walkways beneath the skimmer paths. He might have been an open target, but at least the space gave him a zone of comfort, a sense of freedom.
He walked the full distance to the freight pads. Near the end, his ankles ached, but once he reached sight of his ship, he increased his pace.
Before entering the scout, he glanced at the space control panel. The pattern remained clear and he could probably request immediate takeoff.
He didn't stop to think about where he was going, didn't pause to develop a plan. He just wanted to launch. He pulled himself through the port hatch and nearly leapt the last six steps to the cockpit. He found he was not alone.
The coordinator never looked up. He scanned coded reports from his own portable as he pointed to the pilot's chair.
"Take a seat, Scampion. We're going on a little trip, something I want you to see. By the way, before you get any funny ideas, there are Espial agents monitoring us right now."
Rath groaned a curse that echoed throughout his body.
The noise brought Jack's attention to the scout. "That sounded awful. Don't get too desperate on me. There's still a good deal to see."
Rath remembered when he first surrendered to the marauders. This felt worse. He collapsed into his chair and eyed the controls with pure futility.
Jack smiled. "When you give up, you really give up."
"Screw you," Rath mouthed, but it was hardly forceful.
"I guess you have a little bit of spunk left in you. Not much, but a little. Do you want to know where we're heading or should I surprise you?"
"Why don't you just tell me, a*shole? I'm tired of surprises."
"I guess you should be. We're heading to Semele."
"Imagine that," Rath shrugged.
"Yeah, imagine that," Jack growled. "You want to launch this thing or should I bring in an Espial pilot? I have one waiting."
"The smell is bad enough in here with just you, thanks," Rath scoffed.
"Good! Then let's launch and I'll set the course precepts. We should be there in about twenty-five standard hours or so."
Rath punched the props to launch power. He mumbled to himself, cursed his own stupidity. As the scout was given top priority in the pattern, he was able to exert full Boscon propulsion within minutes. The instant they were in push, he sat back in his chair but kicked the metal support in front of him.
"You don't seem to be in a good mood at all," Jack remarked, but his attention remained on his portable.
"I'll do a dance next time I'm this stupid."
"You think you made a mistake somewhere along the line?"
"I made a lot of mistakes, pal," Rath admitted. "Every one of 'em brings me right back to you."
"That may be so, and I'd love to discuss it further, but I just downloaded certain communications and I need to address some things. You won't mind if I use your quarters for a little privacy, right?"
Jack got up to leave, but offered one warning. "Don't get any bright ideas up here. There's a spy vessel following the Boscon wake of this craft. You try to go off course and you won't get to see anything beyond a deep space funeral."
"And if I stay on course, will I get to see something different?" Rath asked with dry skepticism.
"Keep an open mind, Scampion. You've got nothing to lose to see this thing through."
"That's probably just some more coordinator bullshit."
"That doesn't sound like an open mind to me," Jack stated with raised eyebrows, but he didn't wait for a response.
#
The scout dropped out of push exactly as scheduled. Near a hundred signals on the scanners indicated the presence of a full fleet.
Jack was back in the cockpit, still reading and writing memos on his portable.
"Bring us to a full stop," the coordinator demanded.
Rath shrugged, but did as he was told.
Jack made a direct connection between his portable and the ships communication systems. With but a few commands, he had a direct line to a spy vessel scanning the planet Semele.
"Taranson? That you?"
"Yes, sir," the captain replied.
"Everything in order?"
"The mark has been pinpointed and identified. We have conclusive acquisition of the mark as we speak. No ships have left the system and all satellites have been destroyed."
"Excellent. Keep tabs on our mark to confirm elimination."
"Roger that. Will transfer scanner readings through this link. Your portable should display tracker reports."
Even from Rath's chair, he could see the portable glow with new light.
"Transfer enabled, readings received," Jack confirmed. "Signal the fleet commander. It's his go. And thank him for waiting."
Jack turned to Rath. "I seem to remember a similar situation, don't you? We were in a transport watching Fenrir." Jack turned a wry smile. "I told you that the Authority was going to try and save Fenrir, but that wasn't quite the truth."
"Another lie? I’m shocked." Rath noted with dry sarcasm.
Jack continued, ignoring the remark. "The melees fired the nuclear missiles, not the Fenrites. Or did you figure that out yet? We wanted to destroy them right then and there. They never had silos. We doctored those pictures I showed you. We just wanted to make it look like they destroyed themselves, but it didn't turn out as I expected. They shot almost everything down as if they were ready for us. Some of the researchers think they were, that somehow they knew we would be coming for them. As it turns out, they ended up using the nuclear warheads on the Planning Station, not at all what we expected. Yes, that little incident didn't turn out as expected, but I doubt I'll have the same problem here. No, this is the end of Angelo."
"How do you know he's really down there?" Rath offered, hoping to maybe take some air out of the coordinator's balloon. "He probably knows the word is out on the Fenrites. He knows his bargaining chip is gone. Maybe he realizes you're coming after him just like the Fenrites did."
Jack shook it off like rain on a duck's back. "Do you think I would be stupid enough to release the information on the Fenrites without putting a rope around our marauder friend’s neck first? The fleet has been in control of this system for over two standard days. An Authority subcommander met with Angelo in person yesterday. Our friend wasn't too happy at the arrival of the fleet, said we broke our word. He even threatened to go public, but the subcommander was authorized to inform him we were going public ourselves. I can bet he wasn't too happy about that. No, he's down there. You heard the report from the spy ship, didn't you? We've got him marked. See?" The coordinator turned his portable to reveal the location of the mark. "He's down there, and we'll know exactly when he's deceased."
Jack noticed a coded message cross his portable. "That's got to be the order. Yup, ships are moving in now. This time artillery rovers are going to pulverize the continents and then the melees and blitzers will move in to complete the task."
Heavily armored ships moved forward with an orange burst from their tail thrusters. Large, ominous vessels encircled the planet as if it was some kind of wounded animal unable to escape, but the closer they came to the atmosphere the smaller they appeared in comparison, as if it was the planet that was inhaling the attacking ships. Some of the smaller vessels disappeared from sight, lost in the darkness of space or absorbed by the brilliance of the planet surface.
Rath watched the scene from his scout. Silence filled the cockpit as the front viewshield faced Semele. The initiation of the assault was obvious enough. He could see the blight flashes indicating catapult from the rovers. He didn't know what ordnance they were carrying, but it made an explosion on Semele's surface large enough to witness from space.
For the most part, Jack watched his portable screen, but he allowed himself a quick glance at the spectacle from the viewshield. He found a good deal of exultation in the display.
"Did you see that? Now that's power."
Power wasn't the word that came to Rath's mind. Devastation. That seemed more appropriate. Destruction on a planetary scale. Maybe it did signify power, but the scout felt more remorse than awe.
"I'm getting a report that the rovers have destroyed all surface defenses," Jacks stated almost giddily. "Launchers and pads are out of commission. They'll focus on the complexes and hangars now."
Targeting systems pinpointed all structures on Semele, both above and below the surface. Hundred ton canisters of augmented explosives fell like rain from the sky. The detonation left craters larger than small moons.
From space, the view was frightening. Rath could see land masses ignite with bright yellow and orange flames. Staggering.
Jack pointed out the obvious. "Now, do you really think anyone is going to survive something like that? I don't care how deep the bunker is. Anyone down there is going to be dead before this is over. It's only a matter of time before… there it is. A direct hit to the main complex. The mark is gone. You can say good-bye to Angelo the marauder."
Not gone, eradicated. Rath stared at the planet. One person was so insignificant in size - from where he sat, the space a single body would occupy was a hundred times less than a spec of dust - yet, a good deal of trouble was spent in assuring that single individual's death. He only met the pirate once, he really didn't even like Angelo, but the process in which this man was obliterated was more than unsettling. It was like God striking down a heathen, and that kind of power shouldn't have been in the hands of a person like Jack Lasonelli.
"What about his wife?" Rath questioned downheartedly.
"Oh, she was probably killed in the same explosion." The coordinator spoke as if Opal was nothing more than an insect. "Or killed before, or will be soon enough. We didn't mark her, not worth it, I really can't say for sure if she was in the building. But no one's left the planet since the fleet arrived. I guess if she left earlier, she's still alive. Not that I care. What can she do? Spread the word about the Fenrites? Already done. Like I said, not worth it."
"And what about me," Rath asked, "am I worth it?"
Jack closed up his portable before responding. He eyed the scout with obvious distaste, something akin to the way a person looks at spoiled food. "I don't know what you're worth, but I know what you deserve."
"What I deserve?" A flood of anger rushed from the scout. "How about what you deserve. You're killing a whole planet, and you seem to be enjoying it."
"A planet of pirates and thieves," Jack countered. "You almost toppled a whole society, the good as well as the bad. So don't point fingers at me. It's quite a mess out there. The public is calling for a complete shake up of Regency. They want an end to these councils and the power they derive. When I think about that, I really would like to kill you. This isn't just a little discontent; this is getting close to anarchy, a near complete overthrow of a government that's kept control over an empire that's growing in interstellar terms. Do you have any appreciation for what that means? All of this because you ran to the wrong place."
The accusation didn't sit well and the scout shouted out his own charge "No, all of this because a few scientists tried to deceive the public! Isn't that the real truth?!"
"Not all of it. It was the start, but you were the catalyst."
"And maybe Angelo would've figured it out for himself. You heard what he had to say. He had more information than what I gave him. I didn't know that you created the Fenrites. I just knew they weren't always there."
"Look, I'm not going to argue this with you." Jack stated firmly. "If you don't want to stand up and accept responsibility for some stupid decisions, that's your problem."
"And what about you? You blameless?"
"No, I should have had you killed rather then wasting time trying to convince you that you missed the Fenrites."
The statement carried a ring of conviction, something Rath could understand.
"A mistake you'll correct now, I assume."
Surprisingly, Jack disagreed. "Actually, no. I've got nothing to gain by killing you at this point. In fact, more to lose. You're a link to all this, the one factor that can be traced all over the galaxy to prove that the Fenrites were not an alien but a creation of our own scientists. Some media people are already trying to drum up accusations that the Fenrites were, in fact, an extraterrestrial organism. They want the public to believe we destroyed them out of fear. That's a charge that's worse than the truth. And that's what's going to keep you alive."
Rath wasn't ready to become optimistic. He stole a glance at the decimated planet, a tribute to what Regency could truly accomplish.
The coordinator noted the reluctance. "I'm going to offer you an alternative. It's a simple deal, one you can keep."
"And what about you? I see how you kept your last deal." Rath scoffed as he nodded to the viewshield. "Seems like I remember some promises you made to Angelo. You know, about leaving him and his planet alone?"
"Angelo tried to blackmail me. Now, are you ready to listen?"
Rath didn't answer, but he waited silently.
"Good. Now this is all you have to do. You return to your life as a scout. You don't hide and you don't run. You go back to the way things were, but there are going to be questions, and when they're asked, you answer with the truth."
Rath raised an eyebrow, but the coordinator cut him off before he could make any sarcastic remark.
"You tell everybody - media people, local jurisdictions - everybody gets the same answer. No pointing fingers. No trying to place blame. Just tell them what happened to you."
"Including you, how you lied to me, how you tried to trick me into believing my scout's sensors malfunctioned?"
"I said everything. Just say it as it happened. If you think that's going to get me in any trouble, think again."
Rath shrugged. "Just following orders, right? Blame some dead scientist and everyone else gets off for free."
"Yeah, sure," the coordinator replied with his own sarcasm dripping from every word. "All of Regency is just going to go back to the way it was. There won't be any discontent, no backlash. You're a fool, Scampion. We're facing open dissension. Outer rim planets are already composing documents of secession. We're facing a civil war because of this and we need to bring everyone back together. If some reputations get hurt, even mine, that's no big deal. Besides I don't answer to the public, I answer to Regency."
"Maybe that's the problem."
"Don't like it? Tough. Try to get cute, that's what you'll get." The coordinator pointed to the planet with a jutting finger. "We're not playing games anymore, especially not with you."
Rath heaved a heavy breath. He considered the arrangement and decided to make one additional demand of his own. It wasn't a risk as much as it was a test, a test to see how far the coordinator would go.
"What if I make one extra request?"
Jack frowned, but entertained the appeal. "What is it?
"I want a new engine for my scout. The kind with the emeralds. If I'm going to remain a scout for long, I have to be able to compete. It might look bad if I suddenly drop out of the business."
Jack almost laughed. "You don't need a new engine to compete, but I don't see the harm in giving you one. It'll get you around faster, and as long as you don't disappear, that's probably for the better. Bring us back to Janus and I'll sign the requisition." The coordinator paused, and then lowered his voice to the cold tone of an unveiled threat. "Take one last look at that planet, Scampion. That's why I brought you here. I want you to understand something. Angelo tried to hold something over Regency to get his way. He thought he could a scare a few individuals with threats of exposure. Regency is bigger than a few councils. We went public with this embarrassment to keep Regency alive. We're destroying Semele to send a message to other planets thinking about rebelling. Don't miss what the message should be saying to you. The Fenrites are gone, that mistake has been erased. You made your own mistake that landed you in this mess, don't make anymore. Yeah, maybe we're using you, but you get to live. Try to keep it that way. You can return us to Janus now. I don't expect we'll have to talk again."
The coordinator lifted his tall body from the chair, stooped through the cockpit portal, and left Rath behind to contemplate the final scene of destruction.
The scout watched for only a moment more. He saw the tiny flares of a massive melee and blitzer response. He hardly believed they were necessary at this point. The deluge of artillery canisters certainly leveled the entire planet surface. This was more like overkill, or perhaps indeed a display, a display of what the Authority, of what Regency, could do if another planet got out of hand.
Rath ripped his focus from the viewshield. He set the navcom with precepts for Janus and ignited full power to the Boscon props.