A Forest of Stars - Kevin J. Anderson [23]
But unnamed and unrecognized Hansa “watchers”—a fancy word for “spy,” Tasia thought—had infiltrated the various colonies just to keep an eye out from the inside. One of these spies had sent a report to the EDF about the Yrekan indiscretion.
General Lanyan had taken Yreka’s defiance as a personal affront. When dispatching the battlegroup, he had grumbled, “Only a few years ago, the Yrekans begged for our assistance against a gang of Roamer pirates. Unfortunately, their memories seem to be faulty.”
Though she had maintained her professional demeanor, Tasia was stung by the remark. The pirate Rand Sorengaard was an anomaly, and most Roamers disliked what he had done, yet the Hansa still used the incident to drum up prejudice. Tasia had been fighting that stigma throughout her military career.
A navigation officer spoke across the Jupiter ‘s intercom system, which broke into the holoconference. “Entering the Yreka system, Admiral. All warships taking up positions according to the game plan.”
“Very well, folks,” Admiral Willis said. “We’ll reconvene after we hear the Grand Governor’s response. This exercise could be over within the hour…or we might be stuck here awhile.”
Tasia left the platcom’s lounge and hurried back to the command bridge. She hoped she could quietly keep the EDF from going overboard with the poor settlers. Sadly, despite her numerous crack skills, subtlety and diplomacy weren’t among Tasia’s strong points.
Yreka was an unremarkable colony, located on the fringe of Hansa territory near the Ildiran Empire. The planetary system, home to a mere handful of hardy settlers, had no obvious strategic importance. The Yrekans depended on outside help for many necessities.
Tasia took her seat on the bridge and asked her command crew to sound off and double-check their systems. She transmitted back to the Jupiter, “Thunderhead 7-5 ready to engage, Admiral.”
Willis was calling the shots…and Tasia hoped “shots” was just a figurative term for this operation. The Yrekan colonists wouldn’t stand up for an hour against the Eddies’ firepower.
Wing Commander Robb Brindle, her friend and lover, called from the launch bay, speaking with forced formality. “Elite Remora squadrons ready for departure, Platcom. Should I deploy them, or wait until the Yrekans make a move?”
“Crack open another coffee tube while you wait in the cockpit, Wing Commander,” Tasia said. “Once they see what we’ve got, the Yrekans should fold their cards.”
“Platcom, there’s significant spaceport activity below,” her scanning ensign said. “The colonists are mobilizing ships…a lot of them.” The woman touched a pickup in her ear. “The Grand Governor has sounded civil defense alarms, calling for evacuation, getting civilians to shelter.” The officer blinked wide eyes at Tasia. “They think we’re going to nuke them.”
“Shizz, they should know better than that,” Tasia said. “Yreka’s a Hansa colony, and we’re the EDF.” But deep in her heart, she wondered how far Admiral Willis would go.
The Admiral sent a hail down to the Grand Governor, but her folksy voice did not diminish the threat. “Ma’am, this is Admiral Sheila Willis, commandant of the Earth Defense Forces here in Grid 7. I’m supposed to protect this sector of space, but it seems you’re forgetting who butters your bread. Are you there?” She waited a moment for a response. Tasia imagined that the administrative center of Yreka was scrambling in panic down below.
Willis continued. “Now, I’ve brought along a few of my ships to remind you that your planet is a signatory to the Hansa Charter. Take a look, and you’ll find everything right there above the dotted line. You’ve sworn your allegiance to the King.”
Her voice took on the tone of a disappointed grandmother. “But it appears you’re hoarding stockpiles of ekti, obtained through black-market suppliers. You should be ashamed of yourselves. The Hansa is faced with an extreme crisis, and King Peter has asked