Steven Kent - The Clone Republic

I looked around the cabin, pretending to search for a third passenger. There are only two of us, I thought. I’m wearing a uniform, and he’s wearing cuffs . “This is the prisoner,” I said as I gave the guard Kline’s papers. The MPs formed a square around Kline and led him away.

“Corporal Harris,” the aide said in a nervous voice. He was a lieutenant, and I was just a corporal; but I was Klyber’s guest. This aide did not dare pull rank.

“Sorry, sir,” I said.

“They are waiting for you on the Command deck.”

“Yes,” I said, my thoughts following Kline.

The lieutenant led me down the same corridor that Vince Lee and I had explored on our first night on the Kamehameha . Vince was considerably better company. This man strode in silence, staring coldly at sailors moving around the deck. At least nobody turned me back for being a Marine.

A voice in the back of my head said that I was far out of my depth as we approached the admin area. That was the holy of holies on most ships, officer country, but we were headed for far more hallowed halls than mere officer country. At the far end of admin were the six elevators that led to the Scutum-Crux Command deck. The lieutenant approached one of these elevators and rolled the thumb, pointer, and middle finger of his right hand against a scanner pad. The elevator call button lit up.

“Ever been back here before, Corporal?”

“No, sir.”

The elevator door slid open, and we stepped in. I stood silent, watching numbers flash on a bar over the door, my mouth dry and my throat parched.

We stepped onto the twelfth floor. Staff members from every branch sat at desks. An Air Force major stood in front of a large glass map moving symbols. A colonel from the Army walked past us and ducked into a small office. No one seemed to notice us.

At first glance, SC Command looked very similar to the admin area at the base of the elevator, except that here you saw men in Air Force blue and Army green. The lieutenant led me past the cubicles and lesser offices, and the surroundings became much less familiar. Even the ceiling was higher on this part of the deck. We entered a large waiting room. The naval officer/receptionist glared at me. “Is this Corporal Harris?”

“In the flesh,” the lieutenant answered.

“He is in conference,” the receptionist said, “but he said for you to go in.”

“In conference?” I asked.

“That means we need to keep absolutely quiet,” the lieutenant whispered. We approached a convex wall with a double-paneled door. As the panels slid open, I heard Admiral Klyber speaking. The officer put up a hand, signaling me to stay outside as he peered into the circular room. A moment later, he turned back and signaled for me to follow.

Admiral Klyber and Vice Admiral Barry sat along the edge of a semicircular table facing a wall with several screens. I recognized the faces on the screens from stories I had seen in the news. Admiral Che Huang, the secretary of the Navy, a member of the Joint Chiefs, spoke on one screen. Generals from the Army and Air Force, also members of the Joint Chiefs, showed on other screens, along with a member of the Linear Committee.

“You said Ezer Kri would not pose a problem, Barry,” Huang said in an angry voice. His image glared down at Admiral Barry, his lips pulling back into a sneer.

“The planet has no standing military and no registered capital ships,” Barry said. Clearly shaken, the vice admiral wheezed and snorted as he spoke. Beads of sweat formed on his mostly bald scalp. “Those ships could not possibly have come from Ezer Kri.”

“I quite agree,” said Klyber. “Admiral Barry had no reason to anticipate the attack on the Chayio .” He leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers, and spoke in a calming voice like a mediator who had come to settle a squabble among friends. “As I read this, it appears that the reality of the Atkins threat is finally showing itself. Admiral Barry was only briefed about hostilities with the Yamashiro government.”

“Atkins?” asked the member of the Linear Committee.

“We’ve all seen the record; those destroyers broadcast themselves to the scene,” Klyber said. “Did you look at the design of those ships?”

“I’d need clearer pictures,” the Committee member said. “I saw your notes; but after all of these years, I can’t believe it.”

“Fair enough,” Admiral Klyber said. “But we do agree that those ships are of an obsolete U.A. design and manufacture? I am sure we agree that this was not an extragalactic attack.”

The faces in the television screen nodded in agreement.

“We know that the Mogat population vanished after the attack on our platoon,” Klyber continued. “A number of ships launched during the attack on the Chayio . Intelligence traced that launch to an uninhabited island. It seems safe to assume that the separatists massed on that island as they planned their escape.”

“I am aware of that, Admiral,” Huang hissed. “If those ships came from the GC Fleet, they would be hopelessly outdated.”

“Not necessarily,” Klyber said. “The Kamehameha was commissioned before we began exploring the Galactic Eye. They may have updated their ships just as we reoutfitted this one.” He shot a furtive grin at Vice Admiral Barry, who fidgeted nervously and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

“So how do we proceed, assuming those ships were from the GC Fleet?” asked the member of the Linear Committee.

“There were hundreds of ships in that fleet,” Klyber pointed out.

“Even if they reoutfitted it, I don’t think the GC Fleet would be much of a threat,” Huang said. “Not against a modern navy.

“The GC Fleet was a one-dimensional fleet designed for invasions, not ship-to-ship combat. It did not have frigates or carriers. It will be helpless against fighters.” No one seemed interested in Huang’s opinion, however.

“Perhaps we’d better double the patrols guarding the broadcast system,” said the general from the Air Force.

“Would there be any way to track the fleet’s movements?” asked the Committee member.

Klyber shook his head. “Once we get a psychological profile of whoever is commanding the fleet, we may be able to predict his steps. For now, the best we can do is to go on alert.”

The Army general sighed. “It’s the enemy that you can’t see…”

“Do you think Crowley is behind this?” asked the Committee member.

“I’ve put a great deal of thought into this,” Klyber said. “Crowley has a mind for tactics, but he has no skill for coalition building. He is no politician. If a civil war is brewing, Crowley will need allies…political allies.”

The Army general smiled. “Thank God Morgan Atkins is dead.”

“Atkins?” asked Admiral Barry.

“Is he?” Klyber said. “I don’t know how we can rule Atkins out of the picture.”

“My God, he would have to be a hundred years old,” Barry said.

“I never call them dead until I see a tag on their feet,” said Huang, who clearly enjoyed needling Barry on every topic.

“With the right ambassador, Crowley won’t have any trouble finding plenty of support in the House of Representatives,” said Klyber. “We will need to observe how the politics play themselves out in the House. Crowley’s allies will expose themselves sooner or later.”

“If he’s tied in with Atkins, he’ll have lieutenants on every planet,” the member of the Linear Committee observed.

“We must choose our next step wisely,” Huang said. It seemed like he was trying to regain control of the conversation by reviewing what everyone else said. “If you are right, Admiral Klyber, we have no way of knowing where or when Crowley will strike.”