Marik Commonwealth
Free Worlds Republic
September 5, 3219
"David," said General Romanov, "I received word from Tharkad. It's ours."
"Thank God." David Corrigan ran his hand through graying hair. A few weeks ago, that hair had been a deep, rich brown.
A few weeks ago, David Corrigan thought he might win this war.
"Andrei," he said, "have a seat." He poured himself a tall shot of whisky from a bottle he kept in his desk. "All right, tell me what the situation is."
"We have control of Tharkad. Actually, we had Tharkad on the twentieth of August, but the damned Com Guards made their last stand at the HPG facility. The array . . . did not survive intact. It took this long to get a JumpShip back here."
"And the Archon?"
"Archon Steiner escaped the planet," Romanov said. "Which is, I suppose, for the better, given that he is First Lord of the Star League right now."
"I would've loved to have taken him captive," Corrigan said. "It would have been so much easier to plead our case with him, directly. Now all we have to bargain with is Tharkad."
"Tharkad is still quite an accomplishment itself, sir," said Romanov. "Hell, Word of Blake tried three times to take the world, and never managed to. We did it without nuclear weapons."
"There's something to be said for that." Corrigan sighed. "Look, Andrei, unless you have some fantastic new turn of fortune to report, we are going to lose this war. The Kanrei is beating hell out of us, and from what I hear from Chong-lo, Davion is doing just as well. The Star League is going to win."
"We've got at least two months before Kurita makes it to Marik," Romanov said. "There's still a chance—"
"The only chance I have left is to cut a deal with the Star League that lets the Free Worlds Republic continue to exist!" Corrigan shook his head. "I probably won't be around to see it, or at least, to control it. At the very least, Steiner is going to demand my resignation." He shrugged. "I'll probably have to abdicate to Cousin Susan . . . who is a total moron. Goddammit, Andrei, I worked so hard to build the Republic. This war . . . it seemed like the only way to really break with the Wolves. Lord knows how much they stole from us. And of course, the Jade Falcons promised to keep the Star League occupied." He laughed. "Well, I guess they got theirs, didn't they?"
Clan Jade Falcon had launched an offensive across its border with the Lyran Alliance, but the effort had quickly been recalled when the Wolf Clan attacked with all the ferocity of its namesake. The fighting had left a dozen worlds in ruins, and was finally winding down (due to the incredible costs of the war in men and machines; nineteen Galaxies' worth of equipment had been destroyed). Likewise, the Ghost Bears had taken the pressure off of the Draconis Combine with a vicious assault against Clan Nova Cat. And of course, no relief was to be expected from House Liao; Chong-lo had his own problems.
The Free Worlds Republic was alone.
"Sir, I'm not sure that any settlement with the Star League will be favorable to the Free Worlds."
"Au contraire!" Corrigan exclaimed. This was something he had thought through many times before. "The Star League wants peace as much as I do, which is why they'll be receptive to any deal I offer. Now, wait, Andrei, I said receptive, and that doesn't mean that they'll automatically accept." He grimaced. "In fact, I really doubt they will."
Romanov nodded. "I'll make the necessary arrangements. I don't know if Kurita will agree to meet with you, though. That's . . . well, I'll make the necessary arrangements."
"Good. If there's nothing else . . ."
"No, sir."
"You can go then." Romanov nodded, leaving Corrigan alone with his thoughts.
CCS Celestial Glory, Sian Orbit
Sian Commonality
Capellan Confederation
September 6, 3219
The Maskirovka interrogator, whose name Lara Steiner had never learned (she suspected he had never offered the information), managed to turn a smile into a sneer as he loomed over her. She would have loved to punch him in the face, preferably following with a swift kick to the groin, but the Capellans had attached her cuffs to a metal chair inconveniently welded to the deck.
"You'll be happy to know that our time together is basically complete," he said. "Thanks to the miracle of modern medicine, I have been able to extract from you all of the information deemed necessary by His Celestial Wisdom. Your death will be of little consequence to the Confederation." Behind the interrogator, Major Ti shifted uncomfortably. "Oh," continued the Maskirovka agent, obviously enjoying himself, "we'll still see each other, from time to time. Major Ti and I still have to analyze what you told us, after all." His smile/sneer grew larger. "And of course I would never miss your big day."
"Yeah, you would have to remind me about that," Lara said. "You know, I've heard you say that so many Goddamn times that I really must say it doesn't get to me anymore." She gave him a sneer of her own. "How will you feel, uh, Mister, when I don't buckle with fear like you want? How will you feel when I look you in the eye and smile?"
He didn't answer. Not immediately. The interrogator took a moment to think, to gather himself. Lara supposed it was just for show; he was a very quick thinker, when it came to cruelty.
"Somehow, General Steiner, I don't think that will be the case." He smiled and patted her on the knee. "Unless you've got anything else to tell us today . . ."
"I do, in fact."
"Oh?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Hoping that cooperation will save you from the hangman?"
"Not really," she admitted. "I was just wondering something. You're losing the war, aren't you?" She saw Major Ti stiffen, and nodded. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Eddie is kicking the everliving crap out of you. And you know what else I think? I think that your campaign against Tikonov isn't going so hot, either." She cocked her head. "They haven't retaken Bharat yet, have they? That was where I was captured, you know. Well, of course you do, you know everything. But really, that's got to hurt the ol' ego, having a renegade subject paddle your ass. Charlemagne ended up being more of a man than you thought he was, huh?"
The interrogator looked like he wanted to be angry, but stopped short of saying anything rash. "Actually," he said carefully, "Charlemagne Kerensky-Liao is dead."
She shrugged. "Makes no difference to me. I never liked him much."
The interrogator smiled. "Good night, General." He walked out the door, leaving Major Ti to deal with her.
"Take her back to her cell," Ti said to the two CCAF guards standing behind her. They quickly undid her bonds, reattaching them after she was free of the chair. Before they led her out, Lara looked at Major Ti.
"You know, you really don't agree with them," she said. "Do you?"
Ti didn't say anything, but his eyes answered for him.
In her cell aboard the Celestial Glory, Lara Steiner had all the comforts of home—that is, if home was a single room with a small adjacent chamber for the toilet. It was definitely not high on her list of rooms to spend the last few months of her life in.
She shivered, her teeth practically chattering with nervous energy. Lara wasn't sure what the date was—her captors delighted in keeping that bit of information from her—but she had the feeling she was getting close. A few more months . . . but now the Maskirovka agent was saying that they might move the schedule up a few weeks, as they'd had more progress with the interrogations than they had expected.
The bastards.
The Goddamned bastards.
The thing that really got to her was how much the interrogator enjoyed what he did. She could practically feel the pleasure dripping off him as he asked her questions he already knew the answer to and taunted her with reminders of her impending fate. Major Ti was her one friendly face in the interrogation room, and even then, that wasn't saying much. He never stood up to the interrogator, though Lara couldn't bring herself to blame him; he probably had a family under the threat of execution if he didn't show absolute obedience to the Celestial Throne (and thus, the Maskirovka). The one time he had seemed ready to intervene, the interrogator had silenced him with a look.
A single look.
