Christopher Nuttall - Barbarians at the Gates

“Maybe,” the Professor said. “Could you guarantee them a victory?”

“Nothing is certain in war, as you know very well,” Marius reminded him. “Tell me something—how much influence does the Brotherhood actually have?”

“A considerable amount in some places, and none whatsoever in others,” the Professor said dryly. “You’ll understand if I refuse to give details.”

Marius nodded. “How much influence do you have in the Zathras Sector?”

“A fair number of agents, including several who remained at their posts during the coup,” the Professor said. “What would you like us to do with them?”

Marius looked down at his hands. The idea was only half-formed and he knew, from experience, that trying to push an idea out too quickly meant that it often refused to form perfectly.

“If we could send the sector into chaos, or even make an agreement with Hartkopf, we could send a fleet through the sector and into Admiral Justinian’s territory,” he said as the idea started to slowly come together. “Stab at Harmony through Jefferson—or, perhaps, cross the gulfs of space and hit him from behind. And then we’d have him on the run. We could win the war within two years, providing the Senate agreed to cut loose the mobile firepower and agreed to give me authority to negotiate.”

“Tricky,” Professor Kratman observed. “You’re talking about convincing them to leave his head on his shoulders. And then you’d have to do something about Hartkopf…”

“If we can’t make a deal with him,” Marius said, “could the Brotherhood assassinate him?”

“I’d have to consult with my superiors,” the Professor said. “Direct action is always dangerous because it risks exposing the Brotherhood. The Senate might start taking us seriously and perhaps even trying to hunt us down. The prospect of someone with that kind of power not under their control…well, I’m sure you can understand that that would make them panic.”

“Yes,” Marius said. He grinned. “But I thought you wanted to win the war?”

It had been three years since Marius had set foot in Luna Academy, but he’d privately decided to visit and inspect the new facilities even before Arunika had asked him to meet with the Professor. The five thousand new cadets seemed less focused and determined than they had been when he’d been a student there, although that might just have been because of his own, poor memory. The thought made him smile as he passed a group of cadets cleaning the floors as punishment duty. Every generation thought that the younger generation didn’t have what it took.

He looked in on the history class and frowned when he heard the speaker. She was a newcomer, wearing a uniform that somehow didn’t look right on her, even though it had been perfectly tailored. Her sallow face promised trouble for anyone who didn’t listen carefully to her and answer the questions perfectly. Her lecture was nothing more than political indoctrination, teaching the cadets that they had a duty to the Federation Senate more than anything else. They were being encouraged to rat on their friends, fellow cadets and even superior officers if they heard them making disloyal statements. Marius was horrified and walked away, wondering just how they meant to maintain a chain of command if junior officers were ordered to inform on senior officers.

It got worse in the next class. The cadets were being taught a very different version of the rules of war. The Federation Navy took prisoners where possible, but now the cadets were being told that rebels and warlords—and their followers—were owed nothing, not even food and water. They were traitors, after all, and traitors deserved nothing more than death. The lecturer even spoke about bombarding worlds like Jefferson—which had had no choice but to serve Justinian—back into the Stone Age. And then there was the discourse on political traitors, such as the colonists who wanted independence from the Federation.

Absently, Marius used his implants to call up a class roster and swore under his breath. The entire class—every cadet who had entered Luna Academy in the last two years—was from the Core Worlds. There wasn’t a single colonial.

“It’s been getting worse over the last two years,” Professor Kratman said when he found Marius watching a space combat simulation. The combat simulations didn’t seem to have changed much, thankfully. “The Senate has been ordering the incorporation of political courses into both the Academy and the training camps. Those cadets who don’t have a perfect measure of political reliability will not be allowed to graduate as Firsts. I suspect that in the long run, cadets without a perfect measure will not be permitted to graduate at all.”

“How can you allow this?” Marius turned to look at him.

“Do you think that we were given much of a choice?” The Professor shrugged and shook his head.

“But…” Marius wasn’t sure how to finish that question, not without offending the Professor and the Brotherhood. What good were they if they allowed this travesty?

“That isn’t the worst of it,” he added. “You’ll see men in black suits down on the surface; I suggest that you avoid them. They’re the new Internal Security Division, with authority to question anyone they think might be hiding rebel sympathies and to detain—without trial—anyone who fails the interrogation. Several very good retired officers have vanished into holding cells and never been seen again after being picked up by the Blackshirts.”

“The Blackshirts?” Marius stared at him.

“It seems to be a common feature of every internal security unit that they wear black uniforms,” Professor Kratman said, irony heavy in his tone. “I wonder if they know that they’re merely the latest in a long line of repressive organizations. Humans have been forming secret police groups ever since we discovered fire.” He frowned. “Incidentally, be careful how much encryption you use, even on Federation Navy channels. They’re hacking into some communications and could consider the heavy use of encryption to be a sign of disloyalty.”

“Disloyalty,” Marius repeated. The whole concept was absurd. “I couldn’t think of anything more likely to make people disloyal, Professor.”

“No,” Professor Kratman agreed. “I can’t either. But the Senate is scared, and scared people do stupid things. I think you’ll probably wind up with political officers on your ships watching your every move. I’d be surprised if you didn’t already have a spy or two beside you, keeping an eye on you. As I’ve said before, watch your back.”

His eyes narrowed. “There are some of us who believe that the Senate intends to move into a complete lockdown on the entire Federation once the war ends…and that will really blow up any hope of a stable Federation. There will be a thousand rebellions, if that happens, and the Federation Navy will schism. Again. It will destroy us. Win the war quickly, admiral.”

“I’ll try, sir,” Marius said, and nodded. For a moment, they were captain and lieutenant again. “Thank you.”

“You’ll need this,” Professor Kratman said, pulling a small box out of his pocket and passing it to Marius.

Marius opened the box. It held a simple silver ring, like the one Arunika had worn when they’d first met.

“I suggest that you keep it somewhere very secure and don’t let anyone else wear it. It will kill anyone but you.” Kratman smiled at Marius’s expression. “We take our security seriously, as I told you. Anyone who has a ring and refuses to put it on at request is probably a ringer. You have been warned.”

He stood up and slapped Marius on the shoulder. “Go and get married, young man. You deserve a break before you go back to the war.” His voice lowered. “And by then, we might know what we can do to help you with Governor Hartkopf.”