Spoiler
Mark followed him in, the house was decorated to his mother’s taste, plain but finely made furnishings with richly patterned rugs and throws in the deep blue and green of their family’s livery. Hartford had spent a great deal of time here when they had been classmates at the academy and moved through the entrance hall with the ease of a man at home. He paused to let Mark hand his side-arm and uniform jacket to the butler then led the way through to the sitting room, pausing outside for a moment.
‘Go on in and give them a kiss. I’ll join you once you’ve made your greetings.’ He patted his arm and Mark nodded his thanks for the small consideration. Opening the door he entered the well-lit sitting room, a tall airy chamber with tall windows that let in the southern sun. He nodded to the maid that had been chaperoning their tea with Hartford and now curtsied and withdrew silently. She closed the door behind her and Mark turned to embrace his sister as she rose to greet him, holding her tightly in silence for a long moment. He squeezed her slight frame before turning to his mother, sitting tautly upright and watching him with her sad, expressive eyes. Her battle was worse than his. He had respected and admired his father as an officer but never learned to love him. She had and for that her desolation was all the worse than his.
He knelt before her, lifting one of her long-fingered hands to his lips. He looked up at her and forced a smile to his lips. He had so much of her in him, her fine, sharp-featured face and large eyes were reflected on his face, only his height and broad shoulders showing his father’s blood. She returned it, her grief retreating slightly as she reached out to touch his cheek. They did not speak for a long time, the three of them in silent tableau, taking comfort in each other’s presence and the shared burden. Eventually his mother squeezed his hand and Mark rose, crossing once more to the door to open it to Hartford.
He smiled and entered, bowing again to the two women before resuming the seat he had vacated to come and greet Mark, naturally falling into a languid slouch as Mark seated himself beside his mother. There was a watered white wine and a small lunch spread on dishes and he picked up his glass before sighing. ‘Thank you again for the hospitality of your house Lady Steiner, my compliments on the vintage. Is it from your own vineyards?’
As good a captain as he was Hartford was most at home in the drawing rooms and dance-floors of the city and the easy grace that gave him such success there allowed him to effortlessly prompt and carry a conversation in the afternoon sun. Pretty compliments and pleasantries that would have sounded hollow from most were well received when presented by his boyish face and he talked blithely on, reminiscing on his time with Mark at the academy, drawing smiles from his mother and sister.
Mark let him talk. Hartford’s distraction was good for them, far better than any art at his disposal at drawing their minds from the concerns of the day. He could not make them forget them entirely, the grief was too raw, too new to be cast aside so easily but for a time at least Mark’s mother thought of things other than her lost husband and the threatening desolation and his sister was doted on and showered with compliments and for that he loved his friend. Dinner plans were made and kept and it was only once the dishes of that meal had been cleared and his mother and sister retired for the night that Hartford ceased his chatter as the two of them returned once more to the sitting room. They waited in silence as a maid placing a decanter of port and two glasses between them before bowing and retiring for the night.
Mark poured them both a glass in silence and then held it out to his friend, ‘Thank you Hartford Lawson, you are the truest friend I have. Most of our friends have abandoned us… they needed this.’
Hartford smiled at him and clinked his glass with Mark’s, ‘It is good to see you again Mark, I wish it were under better circumstances.’
Mark nodded solemnly, ‘Me too. You seem to be doing well, a Captain already.’
Hartford knew he was being teased and smiled, ‘It cost me five-thousand two hundred credits and well you know it. Thank goodness for money.’
Mark smiled in response for a moment before his face darkened again. ‘Money… we owe sixty-thousand in ship and head money… we can pay it, but we will lose everything to do so. The house, the holdings in the city, we will even have to sell off our bond contracts, Creator knows if whoever buys them up will house their families as we do. Once we pay though, they will never let me on a ship again. So, tell me Hartford, how do I beat this?’ He let his anger rise again, his knuckles white as he gripped the glass in his hand.
Hartford’s face grew serious as well, his friend leaning forward to stare at him with an intensity that Mark had never seen in him. ‘Tell me Mark, how good a Captain are you?’
Mark paused, considering the question for a moment before simply answering, ‘I am a Steiner.’
The pride of that one sentence brought the grin back to his friend’s face, ‘You are at that and I at least remember what that means. So tell me, if you were a captain given a cruise where would you go? How would you take sixty thousand credits in prize money?’
Mark answered immediately, little else had occupied his mind these last days. ‘Sub-sector seven-eight-nine, to seven-eight-four, lateral cruise across the solar plane.’
Hartford blinked at him for a moment, ‘But you’d be right between the pirates and the Tri-tach trade lanes! You’d have no retreat!’
Mark shook his head, ‘With a decent frigate that won’t matter. I could out-run anything that was a threat. Even if I did get cut-off, I turn for deep-space and go full burn. Tri-tach security forces won’t pursue because they won’t want to leave their convoys unguarded and the war-lords don’t carry enough supplies to get too far away from the space lanes, I’ll outlast any of them. I can do the same with any prizes I take, give them a skeleton crew with a trust-worthy officer and have them go for deep space then circle around out of range of any beacons, manual navigation would get them back to Hegemony space without having to worry about running into un-friendlies. I strip them of supplies to keep my ship going, as long as the engines and sensors work repairs can wait till they’re back at the station. I would just need to give them enough for the crew to fab necessities for the trip back.’ He spoke with enthusiasm now, ‘The tri-tach and the pirates are constantly clashing, I can pass along the lines and snap up damaged survivors or strip destroyed ships.’
Hartford raised his eyebrows and took a long drink of his port, ‘Risky.’
Mark shrugged, ‘I need sixty-thousand credits, safe doesn’t get me that.’
‘Good point.’
Mark sighed and sat back, staring un-seeing at the painted ceiling, a broadsword wing crossing against a nebula bright with multi-coloured stars. ‘Not that it will happen.’ He looked over to his friend, ‘How did this happen Hartford? How were the fifth fleet broken?’
‘Admiral Gedderren *** himself.’ Hartford responded in a flat, plain voice as though he were discussing the weather.
Mark sat up straight, staring at his friend’s face which was serious again. ‘What?’ Admiral Fernly Gedderren had been Admiral Rawlins’ second in command, a political appointment bought with money and influence. ‘What do you mean?’
Hartford’s voice was acid with disapproval as he continued, staring at his port with a frown, ‘Rawlins had out-manoeuvred a warlord, a particularly nasty bastard who calls himself The Conflagration. He has a handful of cruisers, a dozen destroyers and the usual scattering of lashers and hounds plus a swarm of fighters and bombers that have been plaguing our mining stations and convoys for months. Rawlins had been chasing him for weeks, finally caught him and deployed the fifth fleet in a battle line ready to catch as many of them as he could. He was outnumbered but he had better ships and you know the quality of his crews.’ Mark nodded, the Fifth fleet was famous for its hard steadiness in battle. ‘He would have murdered the bastard and made shrapnel out of half his fleet except that Gedderren got out of position, was caught and panicked.’
‘He panicked?’
Hartford shrugged, ‘I don’t know what else you could call it. Apparently he was all full of puff and vinegar when it kicked off because he broke formation and advanced as soon as their fighter wings hit sensor range. Then wouldn’t you know he gets caught by a pair of destroyers and a cruiser with his flux full because he’s been trying to swat fighters with his main batteries and so he overloads as soon as they open up on him. He tried to fall back and ordered everyone he could forward to cover him. He’s an admiral so the captains had no choice but to obey. The first to arrive were a pair of frigates, Ariate and Nelson, the captains were brave buggers because they tried to screen him and give him a chance to vent and turn to provide supporting fire. Except that he was at full burn heading the other way so instead they got torn apart. Gedderren saw it, realised he still had fighters up his tail-pipe, *** his pants and ordered a full retreat.’
Mark knew how the rest of the battle would have unfolded without having to be told. Rawlins would have immediately countermanded the order but it would have already been too late. The fleet would have been thrown into confusion and the structure of an entire flank thrown into disarray, all of this, moments before the main engagement began. Fighters, afraid of being abandoned without the fuel to make it home would have pulled back to their carriers. Frigates, suddenly isolated on the front line would be easy meat for the fighter wings at the vanguard of the enemy fleet. With no fighter or frigate support the destroyers would be over-whelmed and then this pirate would have been a poor commander indeed if he could not out-manoeuver isolated cruisers and battleships.
Hartford saw his thoughts and nodded gravely, ‘Aye. Eventually Rawlins had to order the retreat anyway to try and save as many as he could. He screened them with the flagship and a handful of other Captains volunteered to stay. They fought hard. Even with what happened Rawlins still blew up a third of the bastard’s fleet before he was overwhelmed.’
‘But… but they’re blaming Rawlins and the captains that died, there are a dozen families in the same state as ours.’ Mark’s outrage exploded from him.
Hartford sighed, ‘Admiral Gedderren has the military sense of a gnat and a soul as yellow as Corvus itself but more important than either of those things is the fact that he is also obscenely rich and because his family has been that way for generations he is also obscenely powerful. Half the admiralty board are invested in him. If he was blamed then he would be destroyed. The full sum and the full blame would fall on his shoulders and not even his Lordship the right honourable Fernly Gedderen would be able to survive that.
But if he loses everything then all of his allies also lose a great deal, not only in money but also in power for having aligned themselves with a man seen as a fool. Rawlins was a damned fine Admiral but he was also unpopular with the Admiralty, that’s why they kept him on the fringes with the fifth fleet. So they sacrifice him, a handful of captains and Gedderen is the hero who saved the fifth fleet from total annihilation by ordering a retreat and saving a dozen ships while Rawlins is the fool who tried to stand and fight an unwinnable battle.’
Mark was aghast, staring at his friend in confusion, ‘How… how do you know all this? I’ve been trying to access the records of the battle for days!’
Hartford made a dismissive gesture, ‘Oh you hear things, you just have to hold money up to your ear.’
Mark stared unseeing at the table between them, shock and betrayed rage written on his face. ‘They’ll sacrifice us for that then, for that fat bastard?’ One hand went to his hip where his side-arm would normally be and he stared about the room as thought expecting to see the admiral in the room so that he could vent his rage upon him.
Hartford leaned forward and his voice was a serious as Mark had ever heard as he said, ‘Not if we have anything to say about it.’ He saw he had Mark’s attention and leaned back slowly and Mark sensed that at last they had come to the true purpose of his friend’s visit. He waited expectantly and Hartford took a deep drink before beginning. When he did he spoke slowly, choosing his words with apparent care. ‘My father, is a cold-nosed, ruthless bugger but whatever his faults, he is a patriot and a blow to the Hegemony is a blow to him. Gedderen has wounded the Hegemony. In pursuit of his own personal gain he has hurt her, hurt all of us. Whatever the politics at work, whatever the loss, my father aims to see Gedderen punished for that and he is not the only one who feels that way. My father has confided a small part of his plans to me and a small measure of responsibility for bringing them to fruition.’
Mark leaned forward, his eyes alight with excitement, ‘What do you need me to do?’
Spoiler
Hartford took a deep breath, ‘We need proof... we need something we can take to the council that shows them what happened.’
Mark frowned, ‘But the black-boxes on the ships that came back. Surely they show enough to damn him.’
‘No, most of those that made it back were too far from Gedderen’s flank to see what happened before everything fell apart. Besides which, many of the Captains are terrified that they’ll be stripped of their rank. Gedderen’s the only senior officer who has come out of this with his power intact and many of them have rallied around him, supporting his version of events to try and save their own skins. Anything we got from the fleet would be… unreliable at best. We need something untainted… we need the sensor logs from the Conflagration’s fleet.’
Mark paused with his glass halfway to his lips, ‘What? How am I supposed to get that?’
Hartford hesitated, fidgeting with his glass for a long moment, ‘We need you to go Rogue.’ He winced slightly as he said it, understanding just how much he asked of his friend.
Mark sat very still for what seemed a long time. He could see how Lawson’s plan would work without any further explanation. If he could get off planet in a frigate, something fast enough to outrun the system defence fleet then it would be all too easy for him to make a name for himself as a pirate. With his knowledge of Hegemony patrols and trade routes every pirate admiral in the Sector would be courting him, seeking to add him to their fleet. He simply had to arrange matters that he ended up with The Conflagration and from there it would not be too hard to manufacture a reason to access the sensor logs of a ship that was present at the destruction of the fifth fleet.
He looked up at his friend. ‘My mother, my sister… I could not take them with me. I dare not, I cannot, put them in the danger that this would entail.’
Hartford leaned forward and gripped his shoulder, his face serious as he stared at his friend. ‘Mark, whatever happens, I will look after them as though they were my own. You are my truest friend and I will not allow a single one of yours to go without succour.’
Every caution that nature and training had given him rebelled against the idea of putting his mother and sister’s welfare in the hands of another but he could not doubt his friend’s sincerity. They had trained together in the academy for years and fought shoulder to shoulder in desperate fights and boarding actions during their commissioning tours as lieutenants. He was family in all but blood.
His mind settled on that account he wrestled still with the enormity of the plan’s implications for him. As soon as he was declared rogue his family would be stripped of its livery and crest, their roll call of honour burned from the books. Only the full political weight of Hartford’s father would be able to rescue their honour and lands, and even then only if the plan succeeded completely. Failure in any part of it would put his family beyond redemption in the eyes of the Hegemony. Capture would end only in an orgy of firing squads and hangings which would see him and anyone aiding him buried in the unmarked grave of a traitor or simply ignominiously jettisoned into space with the rest of the trash if their execution took place off planet. Even success could bring ruin, if as a rogue he was forced to kill any man of the Hegemony fleet or citizen he would be a murderer as well as a rogue and not even the removal of the latter would save him from the former.
But what alternatives presented themselves? He had no ship that would keep the debtors at bay while he was off planet, nor any prospect of one. The Steiner name was already dirt, his father’s medals likely to be stricken and him doomed to a life of ignominy eking out a living on the half-pay of a land-bound officer until they finally found a reason to take his commission away. He could see no way to avoid that but to expose the truth as Hartford suggested.
The thought of betraying the Hegemony in this way cut at the very heart of how he had been raised. Duty was all. But to whom did his duty lie? To the corrupt council that jockeyed and fought for power at its head, moving and sacrificing those beneath them like pawns on a chessboard? That thought came and was discarded, the faces of the bondsmen that lived with their families in the compound a scant few hundred metres from this room replacing it, surmounted by those of his mother and sister. They were to whom he owed his allegiance.
As his mind whirled he realised he had already made his decision and that his chaotic thoughts were simply his adjustment to the new shape of his life. Already behind them he could feel plans forming, the familiar excitement of going into action suffusing his body. He looked up at his friend who was watching him carefully and took a long drink, draining his glass.
‘I will need a ship, something fast enough to get off-planet and past the SDF.’
Hartford nodded, ‘Of course, we can arrange something.’
‘Two days. I must speak with my mother and sister and persuade them to this. I will need to form my crew as well. How many should I plan on?’
Hartford thought for a moment. ‘Fifteen would do, twenty would be better.’
Mark nodded again, ‘Two days Hartford. Return to me then.’
Hartford grinned and poured him a fresh glass before raising his own, ‘The Hegemony.’
Mark paused, ‘The Steiners.’ He intoned instead and they clinked glasses and drained them. Seized by a sudden energy he whirled and hurled the glass into the fireplace where it smashed to shards, the flames flaring briefly as they consumed the remnants of the port. When his friend left he remained awake, standing at the window of the sitting room and staring out towards the lights of the city and the great monolith of the Admiralty. His hands twitched as though at the controls of a ship, his body reacting to the adrenaline that gripped him still. It was changed now in his mind’s eye, no longer the centre of his ambitions and loyalty.
As when he made the decision to play his part in Lawson’s plan he realised that this had been the case for some time but he only now recognised it consciously. It was a foe now and he stared at it with the eye of a man staring at his enemy. He smiled tightly as he did so, this pawn would not be sacrificed.