Knight's Move (10 page)

Sandy saw the Captain wince and felt a moment of sympathy.  She’d looked up his family and confirmed that they did run Knight Corporation, but the Captain’s record indicated someone who had been trying to escape his family's influence.  Sandy could understand that; God knew she wouldn't have transferred to the Federation Navy if she hadn't been trying to escape her father’s shadow. 

But she also knew that Feingold had a point.  The shipping rules and regulations, enforced by the Federation, were only a minor inconvenience to the big corporations, but they could be fatal to a small operation.  It didn't help that shipping rates had been laid down by the Federation during the war – and no one had yet moved to unlock them – or that the bigger corporations used semi-legal syndicates to keep the independent shippers out of the biggest markets.  The colonies were where the independent shippers flourished and few of them were keen to embrace the Federation’s all-consuming way of doing things.  Why should they when the regulations had driven so many of them out of work?

“Those regulations were voted into existence by the vast majority of the Federation ...”

“Only in numbers,” Feingold interrupted.  “You see, your Core Worlds all have vast populations, which gives them vast clout.  We would vanish into the Federation if we joined, becoming nothing more than tiny worlds for you to exploit.”

“You are already part of the Federation,” Governor Wu said, coldly.  “The Federation exists to give humanity a united government.  You are human and thus you are part of the Federation.”

“That’s funny,” Feingold observed, lightly.  “
We
never signed the treaty.”

“The Federation would defend you if you came under attack,” Governor Wu pointed out, coldly.  “We would do that because you are
human
.”

“But you
haven’t
been defending us,” Feingold snapped.  He didn't bother to try to hide his anger any longer.  “Right now, the situation along the border is chaos.   Our worlds are being attacked and raided, the refugee camps are unstable and we fear that independent Dragon warlords might be planning a resumption of the war.  We have even swallowed our pride and asked for assistance from the Federation Navy.  And what have you sent us?”

He waved a hand around, indicating the bulkheads.  “One ship.”

Sandy winced inwardly.  She loved
Dauntless
, particularly now that they had worked out all the bugs and replaced the unsuitable components, but she knew that Feingold was right.  One ship could only be in one place at one time. 
Dauntless
might be able to deter pirate activity in one star system, but she wouldn't be able to deter it in another star system.  The only way to deal with pirates and raiders was to flood the threatened systems with light warships, start a convoy system and hunt down their bases as ruthlessly as possible.  And, with the TFN rapidly demobilising, it was unlikely that the light units required for such an operation could be spared.

And they’d be on the other side of the Bottleneck
, she thought, grimly. 
That’s enough to give any strategic planner nightmares
.

The thought was a bitter one, but it had to be faced.  There was no way to beam a signal through the Great Wall, which meant that any signals from Earth to Fairfax had to go through the chain of relay stations in the Bottleneck.  A handful of destroyed relay stations would make it impossible to summon those starships back in a hurry, if there was a crisis in the Core Worlds ... and the Dragons had shown just how easy it was to cut the Bottleneck Republic off from the Federation.  The Dragons might no longer be a threat – although Sandy tended to agree that some Dragon warlords might not accept the end of the war so tamely – but there were other dangers out in interstellar space.

“I believe that you are still building up your own military force,” the Governor said.  She made a show of quirking her eyebrow.  “Could it be that you protest too loudly?”

“Because we know that we cannot count on you to protect us,” Feingold said, sardonically.  “We know better than to trust you.   Not after you abandoned us.  Not while you keep ignoring our interests.  Not while our people die.”

But it wouldn't be enough, Sandy knew.  The Colonial Militia had worked wonders during the war, but the aftermath had damaged the colonies as badly as the Core Worlds.  She doubted that the Bottleneck Republic could scrape up the funds necessary to maintain the ships they’d built, bought or stole during the war, let alone continue to expand the fleet much longer.  What was pocket change to the Federation was a sizable percentage of the Fairfax Cluster’s overall income. 

The argument raged backwards and forwards, with no clear victory.  Despite her seeming annoyance, Sandy started to wonder if the Governor was actually
enjoying
the discussion – or if she’d had another motive for provoking the verbal confrontation.  It was easy to dismiss Governor Wu as a political placeman, yet ... she had to have
some
intelligence to rise to such a high position, didn't she?  And the Captain’s family would hardly have chosen her unless they thought she could do what they wanted.

Unless the objective actually is to start a war
, Sandy thought, coldly. 
Governor Wu could do that very well
.

It struck her in a moment of insight.  The Governor was preparing herself for her task ... and the argument was showing her how the colonies thought.  Feingold was outlining the problems she would have to confront for her, knowingly or otherwise.  No fool himself, Feingold probably sensed the truth ... and might well be deliberately helping her.  Or was she overestimating one and underestimating the other?

The argument came to a halt as the staff removed empty plates and replaced them with small bowls of ice cream.  Sandy had to admit that the food had been good, although it had been rather minimal; she’d grown too used to being allowed to eat all she could.  But then, the Governor’s staff had brought their own food supplies when they boarded the ship.  Someone had probably told them that naval rations were reprocessed.  It wasn't a thought civilians tended to enjoy contemplating. 

“If you’ll take a word of advice,” Feingold offered, “you’ll start thinking of ways to compromise, rather than dictating.  Like it or not, we do not consider ourselves part of the Federation.  Many of our founding families were exiles from their homeworlds; others believe themselves to have been abandoned by the Core Worlds.  There may be grounds for compromise, perhaps for joining the Federation as an autonomous nationalistic bloc, but not for simple absorption.”

“By Federation law, that would be technically illegal,” Governor Wu said stiffly.  “You are
not
a single bloc.”

And that, Sandy knew, was true enough.  Earth’s various nations had founded homeworlds of their own, which had gone on to settle other worlds ... but the Fairfax Cluster had no unifying culture, nothing beyond the desperate need to defend themselves against the Dragons.  It was easy to believe that if the Federation was prepared to be patient, the Bottleneck Republic would eventually fall apart, allowing the Federation a chance to pick up the pieces.  She wondered, despite herself, if Governor Wu would sense that and refrain from taking action.

“But the alternatives are worse,” Feingold pointed out.  He wasn't pleading, but there was ...
something
in his tone that worried Sandy.  “Surely some compromise now would save trouble later.”

If it did
, Sandy thought, cynically.  But she could see why the Federation wouldn't be keen on the idea.  What would stop other colonies from forming unions of their own and then demanding internal autonomy?  Nothing; the precedent would have been set by the Federation itself.  Besides, the blocs that already existed didn't want rivals. 

The Captain tapped his knife against his glass, silencing the table.  “Ladies and Gentlemen,” he said, interrupting the argument, “I give you the Federation of Humanity.”

Sandy smiled as she lifted her glass, then took a sip.  When she’d transferred to the Federation Navy, the toast had been to victory – and destruction to the Dragons.  It had changed shortly before the end of the war, apparently because of pressure from the Federation Senate.  No one quite knew what they had been thinking.

“Thank you, Captain,” Governor Wu said.  She stood up and gave him a slight bow.  “And thank you for allowing me to use your conference room.”

The Captain’s face twitched, but he said nothing.  Sandy scowled as she glanced past the Governor and met Windy’s eyes.  The woman had recorded everything, including the discussion between her employer and the colonial representative.  No doubt the recordings, suitably edited, would make their way into the hands of various news agencies.  The Governor would need political support if she wanted to move against the Bottleneck Republic and slandering their representative was a good way to start.  It would help to convince the ignorant masses on the Core Worlds that the colonies were populated by barbarians.

Much to Sandy’s relief, the dinner broke up soon afterwards.  She exchanged a brief glance with the Captain – they’d discuss the whole affair later – and then followed the other officers out of the compartment.  There were a few hours before she was due to go back on duty. so she headed back to her cabin, undressed rapidly and settled down for a quick nap.  The sooner they reached Bottleneck and Fairfax, the better.  They would be able to unload the Governor and then commence patrolling the sector.

And maybe we can do something about the raiders
, she thought, as she closed her eyes. 
That might do more good than babysitting the Governor and her staff
.

Who
, Glen asked himself silently,
does the Captain confide in
?

The answer was clear enough.  There was no one the Captain could talk to as an equal, or even as a friend.  Everyone on the ship was his subordinate, apart from the Governor and her staff and he would prefer not to confide in her.  Over the last few days, the Governor had invited him to tea twice, clearly in hopes of forging a relationship.  Glen had begged off the second time, explaining that he had no shortage of work to do.  The first private meeting had been a political minefield.

Damn Theodore anyway
, Glen thought, feeling more like a resentful teenager than a responsible starship commander.  But his brothers had always brought out the worst in him; they’d dedicated themselves to the corporation, rather than to Glen or even their own children.  Part of the reason he’d gone into the Navy was a search for brotherhood, a sense of
belonging
that had been lacking from his own family.  But now he was alone.  There was no one he could just share his thoughts with.

There had occasionally been suggestions that families could travel on starships.  Those suggestions had only ever applied to long-range survey ships, which could take
years
to complete their missions ... and most of those ships had been recalled when the war had started in earnest.  There had always been rumours about hidden colonies established thousands of light years from Earth, where the human race would continue if the Dragons won the war, but no one knew anything for sure.  All that really mattered, right now, was that Glen stood alone.

He picked up a datapad and glowered at it, as if he could force the documents to fade away with the sheer force of his displeasure.  It never failed to surprise him just how much paperwork there was to do on a starship, even though the XO was supposed to handle most of the day-to-day administration. 
He’d
certainly felt swamped once or twice on
Ark Royal
, but
Ark Royal
had been a colossal fleet carrier. 
Dauntless
was smaller; surely, he told himself, she shouldn't generate so much paperwork.  But the bureaucrats had been clawing back power ever since the war had come to an end ...

The hatch chimed.  He scowled – he’d hoped for some peace to come to grips with the paperwork – and then sent the command to the room’s processor, ordering it to open the hatch.  It hissed open, revealing Cynthia.  The Intelligence Officer strode into the compartment and came to a halt in front of Glen’s desk, swinging her hips in a fashion calculated to attract the male gaze.  Glen couldn't help finding it annoying.  There was something about the way she did it that bothered him intensely.