Tsar Wars: Agents of ISIS, Book 1 (19 page)

The sum total of this fleet rivaled that of
the Imperial Navy itself—in numbers, if not total fire power.
Furthermore, over the last four months they’d been gradually
positioning themselves so that, when the strike order came, they
were poised in a near perfect sphere around the central spot of
Earth. They knew the approximate date of the attack, and were ready
to close in on humanity’s home world at a moment’s notice.

The bulk of the Imperial fleet was always
battle-ready, but they were dispersed throughout the Empire. They
had to watch space in all directions and be prepared to repel any
attacks on their position. For decades now, there had been peace in
the Empire. No planets or sectors had launched attacks on one
another, and people were taking
Pax Imperium
for granted as
the normal state of affairs; the Navy’s major role had been
rescuing ships in distress as well as facing the ever-present
threat of pirates and smugglers. If anything, the Empire had been
too good at protecting the peace and well-being of its
citizens.

With his ship already well on its way to
Earth, Kuznyetz received a distressing message from Graf Federico
of Languor. Not a single trace of Natalia’s body had been found in
the wreckage strewn across Languor Field. Despite the destruction
of the
Argosy
with all hands aboard, the young heiress to
the throne had somehow escaped the ambush. By the time Federico had
set up a thorough search, twenty-three ships had already left the
planet. The most important person in the Empire could now be almost
anywhere.

Kuznyetz raged, but did not panic. There was
still a long distance between Languor and Earth, and the fact that
Natalia hadn’t announced her escape meant she probably didn’t have
the resources to challenge him directly—yet. He had to make sure
the situation stayed that way.

The girl would find no haven on Languor;
Federico assured him of that. And not knowing the breadth of
Kuznyetz’s alliance, there’d be no way for her to know where she
might be safe short of Earth itself. She would have to head there
to announce herself, probably before the Sovyet Knyazey. If he
could intercept her before she reached there, no permanent damage
would be done.

Kuznyetz sent out word, discreetly, to be on
the lookout for a young impostor claiming to be the tsaritsa. She
was to be apprehended and/or killed immediately. No one was to know
what the searches were about, but this rebel upstart must be
stopped at all cost before she could spread her lies throughout the
Empire. There’d be no way a scared, pampered fourteen-year-old girl
could slip through a dragnet like that. Then Kuznyetz returned to
his primary concern of directing the battle for supremacy.

* * *

When the rebel attacks finally came, the Navy
was caught largely by surprise. Some of the remote forces found
themselves isolated and cut off from the main fleet by small
detachments of rebel forces. In some instances, they were also cut
off by the rebels’ frequency jamming; others were bombarded by
rebel disinformation on official topcomm channels. Confusion was
the order of the day.

Those commanders who didn’t encounter
immediate resistance quickly realized that these were not scattered
pockets of rebel resistance, but a well-coordinated frontal attack
on the Empire itself. Naval protocols were quite clear in such a
case: fall back and protect Earth at all costs. Let local forces
protect their own worlds as best they could; the Navy’s first
priority was the Empire as a whole.

As the fleet contracted around Earth, they
ran into the rebel forces who’d englobed the region—and immediate
fighting broke out. The Navy ships were usually better armed, but
the rebel ships were usually more numerous in any given volume of
space and more prepared for the fight they knew was coming. In the
unmarked depths of space, energies flowed in fierce battle and
silent explosions flared in the darkness. The Navy had orderly
records of all the crews on all the ships and, when the fighting
was at last over, could provide the roll calls of the honored dead.
The rebels didn’t keep such records; their people who died in the
cold, dark regions were often anonymous and unremembered except by
loved ones who missed them.

The rebel englobement formed a blockade
around the solar vicinity. Diplomatic ships carrying dvoryane and
other notables going to the Sovyet Knyazey were allowed to pass;
Yevgheniy Kuznyetz wanted as large an attendance there as possible,
so when he was proclaimed tsar it would seem as though the whole
Empire had participated in the decision.

Other ships headed for Earth met different
fates. Most of them were merely persuaded to turn back temporarily.
Others decided to fight, and usually lost the battles to superior
weapons and superior numbers of the rebel forces. Some did manage
to break through, but not enough to complicate Kuznyetz’s
plans.

Given sufficient time, the Imperial Navy
would almost certainly have defeated the rebel fleet. But time was
a resource they didn’t have. In just a few days the Sovyet Knyazey
would proclaim a new tsar, and Yevgheniy Kuznyetz, after
well-planned assassinations, had made sure he had by far the most
superior claim. As soon as his claim was affirmed and his
ascendancy was proclaimed—a foregone conclusion given the dearth of
other qualified claimants—the Imperial Navy would owe its total
allegiance to the new tsar, and the majority of the fighting would
be over.

* * *

Although Kuznyetz’s claim would prove the
most solid, not everyone knew about his heritage—or cared.
Knyaghinya Rosaria Espinoza, ruler of Crucis sector, had a long and
distinguished family line, a line that refused to forget that, five
generations ago, its foremost heir had claimed a right to the
throne. The claim rested on his disputed claim of legitimacy, while
his opponents argued that the previous tsar had not been legally
married to his mother at the time of his birth. The truth depended
on the date of a prior divorce decree (which may or may not have
been forged). Three different copies of the document eventually
materialized, all of which had different dates and only one of
which supported the Espinoza claim.

The Sovyet Knyazey at the time, after more
than a month of furious debate, decided against the
Espinozas—leading to devastating battles in Crucis sector that left
the region scarred and humiliated. No single sector could stand for
long against the combined might of the rest of the Empire, and the
lesson was a harsh one. Many of the Espinozas were executed for
treason, but the remainder of their family swallowed their pride
and bided their time, spending eight decades rebuilding their
bombed-out worlds and restoring their respectability.

Crucis had regained much of its prominence,
but the Espinozas never forgot what they’d been denied. Immediately
upon hearing of the deaths in the imperial family, Knyaghinya
Rosaria leaped at the chance to reclaim what she still believed was
her birthright. The matter of the document would be largely
irrelevant now, she reckoned, since she was sure no one could
present a better claim. She was already preparing her own fleet for
its trip to Earth before her summons to the Sovyet Knyazey arrived.
She smiled coldly at the thought that, at long last, her family
would be allowed to take its rightful place in history.

* * *

Hoy Lin-Tao, the knyaz of Lyra sector, was
also on his way to Earth at the head of a large fleet with hopes of
being named the next tsar. He had no claim to the throne by blood;
although nearly everyone in the highest levels of the dvoryane had
some marriage ties with everyone else at some point in history,
Lin-Tao’s was no closer to the throne than anyone else’s. Nor did
he harbor any grudges toward the Sokolov dynasty. In the ordinary
course of events he was as loyal to the Empire and its rulers as
anyone else. Lin-Tao was known as a very thoughtful, deliberate man
with high moral standards, the sort not easily moved to
treason.

But by many standards, he was the most
logical choice to succeed Vasiliy as tsar. Lyra sector encompassed
one hundred and six inhabited worlds, larger than any other two
sectors put together. He was accustomed to presiding over a vast
population, and was even quite good at it. He was well-liked and
respected not only by his peers, but by his subjects as well. He’d
earned the nickname “the little tsar” because of his vast holdings
and his strong influence in imperial affairs. He and his
predecessors had served as both advisers and allies of tsary for
centuries.

Now, in this time of crisis and uncertainty,
many people thought it natural that Lyra sector step forward. It
was not ambition for himself, but for the Empire as a whole that
drove him forward. Lin-Tao was well aware of the death and
destruction that would befall the Empire if war broke out between
various factions, and he considered it his duty to do what he could
to prevent that. His fleet of ships was larger than that of any
other single sector; only Kuznyetz’s wide network of alliances
enabled him to control a larger one.

Now the Lyran fleet sped toward Earth with as
much decorum as the gravity of the situation permitted. With the
integrity of the throne itself at stake, it could do no less.

* * *

Fleet Admiral Pozerian was a troubled man.
When news of Tsar Vasiliy’s death reached him, he knew the standing
orders were to move the majority of the fleet to near-Earth space
to help ensure a smooth, peaceful transition of power. He expected
few problems. There were no disputed issues of succession as
there’d been fifty years ago when Vasiliy took the throne. Velikaya
Knyaghinya Natalia was the unquestioned heir presumptive, and his
loyalties remained steady. The Empire, embodied in the person of
its new tsaritsa, would have the full protection and support of the
Navy.

But when news came just a few hours later of
Natalia’s death as well, all the well-laid protocols suddenly
vanished. Pozerian knew instinctively that chaos would reign unless
the Navy intervened quickly and decisively. There was to be an
emergency Sovyet Knyazey to solve the problems of inheritance. Even
in the most peaceful of times that meant at least a hundred ships
carrying dvoryane and their entourages descending on Earth, all
needing naval protection. And what were the odds, at this unsettled
crossroad of history, that the conclave would be peaceful?

Pozerian fully expected there would be
fighting, and he would have to be ready for it. Reports from Naval
Intelligence had already informed him that a number of dvoryane
were assembling their own private fleets. NI had been working in
conjunction with ISIS to stay abreast of the problem, but it seemed
so widespread that their resources were stretched thin.

Suddenly reports were coming in from all
corners of the Empire of widespread fighting and rebellion, and
Pozerian knew instantly the Empire was in deep trouble. These
weren’t just hotheads taking advantage of a sudden opportunity.
This was a well-planned, full-scale revolt. The traitors were
obviously well-armed and prepared for the moment when it occurred.
Reports of fighting were coming from all sectors—and even more
ominous, some regions were totally silent … not a good sign.

Pozerian had two basic choices. With his
fleet scattered throughout known space, he could order them to
engage the enemy wherever they found it—but that would quickly
devolve into hundreds of small skirmishes without any organization
to it. It would throw out the only advantages the Imperial Navy
had—superior numbers and better training and discipline. He had no
doubt his ships would win many, if not most, of those skirmishes,
but only at the cost of time that the Empire didn’t have.

His other option was tactical retreat—abandon
the outer reaches of the Empire and cede those areas to the rebel
forces, while his own ships turned tail and raced to protect Earth
and the center of government at all costs. This solution flew in
the face of all his instincts as a loyal military officer, but he
knew rationally that it was the only decision he could make to save
the Empire as a whole. With utmost reluctance, he ordered as many
of his ships as he could to fall back to positions around
Earth.

Once there, they found themselves in the
unaccustomed position of having to break through the heavy rebel
englobement of Earth. This was normally the fleet’s position, and
it irked him to have the tables turned. But at least this was a
well-known tactical problem, and Pozerian knew plenty of strategies
for dealing with it.

* * *

Of course, not everyone was out to capture
the throne itself. Others were quite content with less lofty
ambitions.

Knyaz Natombe of Libra sector knew he could
never gather the support needed to be tsar. Too many important
people detested him. But many of those same people detested one
another as well, and Natombe had spent most of his life learning to
play them off against each other.

He was the master of the shifting alliance,
the weather vane of imperial intrigue. If no one completely trusted
him, no one could afford to ignore him, either. If he offered to be
your ally, it was because he saw advantage in it—but you dared not
count on it, because it could vanish again if the wind shifted.
Because of his unique position, he heard many secrets. Some of them
were even true. But that didn’t matter, because he made so many of
them up himself. You weighed any information he gave you on
ultra-sensitive scales, held it up to the light, shook it, then
dissected it, looking for any kernels of truth it might
contain.

Kuznyetz hadn’t even bothered to recruit
Natombe into his conspiracy. It would have been pointless, because
Natombe would offer himself up anyway if the coup succeeded—and if
not, he’d desert no matter what he’d promised. Kuznyetz could see
no particular advantage in such an ally.