Ричард Бейкер - Valiant Dust

“One moment, sir,” the sensor chief replied. She quickly correlated the transponder codes and visuals with a library of Dremish ships. “It looks like a Waffe-class destroyer, escorting a General-class assault transport. They’re identifying as Streitaxt and General von Grolmann. ”

Sikander studied the readouts on the Dremish ships. The destroyer did not worry him overmuch—after all, the Imperial fleet was already represented in Gadira. But the assault transport was a different story. It had a capacity of well over a thousand Dremish marines, plus heavy combat vehicles for ground operations. Hector ’s thirty-hand landing force of armed sailors suddenly seemed extremely inadequate in comparison. Nothing on this planet could stand up to a large landing force of Dremish infantry, he realized. This completely changes the strategic picture.

“Damn,” he muttered. “Communications, send the standard greeting to the new arrivals, and inform them that we’re conducting landing operations and do not anticipate maneuvering for some time yet.” Then he returned to his station. Standing orders did not require Captain Markham to be notified of routine traffic, but this was the sort of development she expected her deck officers to alert her to.

He keyed the captain’s direct link. “Captain, this is Lieutenant North.”

Markham replied a moment later from her cabin. “A busy watch this morning, Mr. North. Where are the locals rioting now?”

“Nothing new on that front, Captain—this is a system traffic update. Two additional Dremish warships have just arrived in-system, range thirteen light-minutes. It’s a destroyer escorting an assault transport. I sent the customary greeting.”

“Any change in Panther ’s status?”

Sikander checked his displays. “No, ma’am. She is maintaining orbit.”

“What in the world are they doing here?” The captain paused for a long moment, absorbing the new information before speaking again. “Very good, Mr. North. Let me know when the new ships take station.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sikander replied. He waited and watched as the two new arrivals began their maneuvers; a few minutes later, the customary messages and captains’ compliments arrived. General von Grolmann turned her blunt bow toward Gadira and began moving in to assume an orbit near Panther, but Streitaxt reported that she was not remaining in Gadira long and maneuvered to establish a new warp transit. Sikander relayed the news to Captain Markham; thirty minutes later, Streitaxt bubbled up again on a new course, heading for parts unknown. He made a note to have the intelligence team analyze the destroyer’s departure course and figure out where she was bound; there was no harm in being a little nosy, after all.

* * *

General von Grolmann was still en route to Gadira when Sikander’s watch ended. He headed down to the wardroom to find some lunch, but managed to eat only half his sandwich before the info assistant signaled him. “Lieutenant North, your presence is requested in the captain’s conference room.”

“On my way,” he replied. He took one more bite and washed it down with a gulp of iced tea, then headed up to the captain’s cabin. When he arrived, he found Peter Chatburn, Hiram Randall, Magdalena Juarez, and Isaako Simms already there. The vidscreen on the bulkhead showed the orbital view of Gadira’s night side, with thin threads and clusters of yellow light marking out the planet’s inhabited areas.

“My apologies for being late,” he said. “I just finished my watch.”

“Have a seat, Mr. North,” Captain Markham replied. “We’re discussing the implications of the Dremish assault force and what we could do to step up our presence if the Dremish become more heavily involved in the security situation on the ground.”

“We can’t compete with a full brigade of heavy assault troops,” Randall remarked. “Dremark now has far more combat power to influence events on the surface than we do. They will presumably employ that power to look after their own interests.”

“What interests?” Magda Juarez asked. “We’ve been keeping tabs on a hundred different Aquilan companies and citizens for the last few days, but as far as I know there isn’t a single Dremish shipping crate on the ground—only stories about Dremark’s plans to invest in Gadira. If they’re so involved here, where are the Dremish businesses?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Markham said. “Let’s take it for granted that we are outgunned on the ground. How else can we influence events?”

“We can provide the benefit of our orbital observation to the Royal Guard and help them monitor the movement of insurgent forces,” Sikander suggested. “And we can provide orbital gunfire support to help the sultan’s forces repel insurgent attacks or neutralize Caidist strongholds. We might not have as much ground power as Dremark here, but our help might make the difference between Sultan Rashid’s survival or defeat.”

“Preserving the el-Nasir sultanate is not our primary objective in Gadira,” Captain Markham said. “That is Montréal’s problem, not ours. Our principal concerns are to make sure that the extremists down on the planet don’t hurt or kill Aquilan citizens, and that our Dremish friends don’t use any local disorders as a cover for an unwarranted intervention. Other than that, we need to stay out of the way and allow the sultan and his Montréalais allies to deal with the Caidist problem—or not.”

Sikander hesitated. While it was strictly true that Aquila was more or less ambivalent about the survival of Sultan Rashid’s government, he could not help but think of Ranya el-Nasir and wondering what would become of her if the Caidists succeeded in overthrowing her uncle. The right thing to do is to keep the peace as best we can. But it would be more pragmatic to determine who’s going to hold the throne at the end of the day, and make sure they’re indebted to the Commonwealth. If I think the right course of action is to assist the el-Nasirs, I need to tie that argument to something that Captain Markham sees as the simple demand of duty.

“There is a good argument to be made that a new sultanate might be more amenable to the open-door policies we favor than the el-Nasirs,” Chatburn said, explicitly stating the concern that Sikander was privately wrestling with. “If the Caidists win, they’ll see Montréal as the ally of the enemy they just fought for twenty years to defeat. They’ll need a new friend among the great powers. It might as well be us.”

“I suspect the Caidists won’t be inclined to be friendly with any offworlders for quite some time,” Randall countered. “They don’t seem like they’re very interested in making Gadira into a place where foreigners might want to do business.”

For once, Sikander found himself in agreement with the operations officer. “Mr. Randall is right,” he said. Randall glanced at him in surprise, but Sikander kept his attention focused on Markham. “And that is exactly why we should be prepared to intervene on behalf of the el-Nasirs, Captain. If the Caidists gain power, no offworlder will be safe on Gadira. The surest way to protect our citizens—and, incidentally, deflect any Dremish ambitions in this system—is to help the sultanate defeat or pacify its enemies. By helping them restore order swiftly, we are helping ourselves.”

Captain Markham leaned back in her chair, considering his point. “There may be something to that, Mr. North,” she admitted. “But I must be clear about this: We are not authorized to attack local insurgents unless Aquilan citizens are in immediate danger from them. My orders do not permit me to begin an open-ended military commitment for the Commonwealth.”