Francona's crop sat uneasy within his abdomen as Keron and two Order Police generals stood before his desk. And for good reason.
"Your deployments make no sense, Sire! Why are you sending the Order Police against the invaders, when the regular fleet is so much more capable of dealing with them?" one of the generals demanded.
"We need to establish a defensive zone around the core worlds, Parkag. You know that very well. I should not have to explain my rationale to my underlings!" Francona stormed, although he had to work at it. As a military strategist he knew that his deployments made absolutely no sense. As a politician who had suddenly -- and for no reason apparent to him -- developed a conscience they made perfect sense.
As the allied forces advanced, Francona found ways to move politically questionable generals and their commands to rear areas, while sending the much more reliable Order Police forward. The rationale Francona had fed the rank and file was that only the most politically reliable people could be entrusted with the defense of the Empire. In reality, he was hoping to weaken the Order Police to the point that the Empire's internal security apparatus would collapse and allow opposition groups to overthrow the government.
His government. Irony is indeed the driving force of the universe, Francona thought.
"I do not question your leadership, Glorious Leader, but I must quite frankly question your judgement!"
Francona immediately drew a disruptor pistol and shot Parkag out of hand.
"Anyone else care to question me, on any matter?" Francona asked. "Very well. Depart from here, and send a servant in to sweep up these ashes..."
Mazar found himself in a crisis of conscience. The strikes had shut down the entire planet's production capacity and anti-Francona protests filled the streets. The Order Police contingent based in the province had proven ruthless in suppressing the protestors. Five thousand had been killed in the past four days. If only they showed as much spirit fighting the Federation! Mazar thought ruefully.
A 'request' from the local Order Police commander to sign the Civil Police over to his command lay on Mazar's desk. Mazar knew very well that any hesitation to sign the order would result in his quiet elimination.
The people outside are desperate. I don't blame them. I serve the Empire, not any one man. Francona can rot in the dungeons of Margrathir the Punisher! I may rot alongside him, but I'm not going to see them hurt any more.
Mazar paged his secretary. "Put me on planet-wide broadcast at once!"
Moments later, Mazar strode out to his formal conference room. "People of Vassarovia Province, this is Governor-General Mazar. Recent events have hard-pressed everyone on this planet. Rations have been shortened to starvation level while production demands have only increased.
"Nonetheless, the civil disturbances taking place are not serving to alleviate the situation. I have been asked by Order Police Commandant Vaxa to sign over authority of the Civil Police to him under Section 805 of the Mulluran Justice Code."
Mazar swallowed hard, his Adam's apple visible underneath his high collar, and continued. "I have no intention of signing the order. You have been through too much, and the Empire has ill-served you. Instead, I proclaim the secession of Vassarovia Province from the Mulluran Empire and order an immediate cessation of hostilities with the United Federation of Planets, the Ferengi Alliance, the G'kra Socialist Republic, and any and all entities allied with these three governments. If this message should be received by representatives of these governments, it should be construed as an invitation to begin formal surrender negotiations.
"The Mulluran Empire Order Police are declared a foreign army of occupation and the Civil Police and planetary militia are hereby ordered to shoot on sight any and all Order Police personnel in the Vassarovia system. All slaves, except non-political criminals and registered debtors, currently in the Vassarovia system are emancipated by executive fiat. The government of Vassarovia will guarantee fair compensation to former slaves as soon as we're able to feed ourselves again.
"People of Vassarovia, you are indeed brave. You have labored long for a system that cared not for your suffering. Today, you reclaim your dignity, your honor, and your lives! Rise up and fight!"
A pity I didn't get to face you in open combat, Tarik, Mazar thought as he placed the muzzle of his disruptor pistol in his mouth just before the Order Police broke down the door to the conference room.
And Vassarovia descended into chaos as the Order Police found themselves suddenly at the other end of the leash...
[Sir, this is Lieutenant Iba with the Intelligence section. I have a feed you may be very interested in.]
"Go ahead, Lieutenant," Tarik said, just a little warily.
The feed contained Mazar's speech. The data recorder kept running for several minutes after Mazar was finished. "Well, I'll be damned! I didn't think that son of a bitch had it in him!" Tarik exclaimed loud enough for several people in the Combat Information Center to hear. "What's the situation on Vassarovia?"
[Borderline anarchy as far as we can tell,] Iba replied. [Nobody seems to know who's in charge -- lots of factional fighting and a few personal scores being settled -- but everyone has it in for the Order Police.]
"Dispatch the Ronin to the Vassarovia system. Use the Banshees to escort. Captain McConaughey is to have overall command of that sector and is empowered to deal with local authorities." Whoever those turn out to be. Tarik made a mental note to contact the underground and try to sort out some of the factional issues. A third of the Mulluran Imperial Fleet was suddenly offline, but who ended up in ultimate command of that fleet was a major question for which no answer availed itself at the moment.
Tarik's headache, however, was availing itself all too well. This damned infection is too much, he thought. If this is a Mulluran bug, perhaps they have a cure for it at Vassarovia. "Yeoman, put me in contact with the Ronin. I wish to speak to Captain McConaughey."
"At once, sir." The comm screen came on. [General, I'm in receipt of your orders. We are making for Vassarovia at best possible speed. How can I assist you?]
"Your chief science officer, Lieutenant Wang, has been of service to me in the past. I'd like him seconded to my staff as a science advisor. His specific task is to research Mulluran medical files upon reaching Vassarovia with regard to the virus that struck Starbase 901."
[Very good, sir. I'll let Ming know. Will we be getting any... ah... backup for this mission?]
"Didn't I tell you that I sent a request for elements of the Ferengi task force to accompany you to Vassarovia?"
[No sir, just Banshee Squadron.]
"That's strange." Tarik looked over the comm log. Sure enough, he'd only ordered VMX-1 to accompany the Ronin. Terrific. This disease is affecting my memory, too. I just sent this ship into a war zone with no backup! "Rest assured, you'll have at least five Marauder-class Ferengi ships at your back within one hour of your arrival. We don't expect you to occupy the system, just show the flag and provide a forum for the opposition groups to hash together a government."
[Excellent. I'll have Lieutenant Wang contact you with his findings as soon as we're able to get into Vassarovia's information network.]
"Make that Lieutenant Commander Wang, at least for the duration. I want him to have some juice with the locals."
McConaughey smiled. [I'm sure he'll appreciate that. He's a good officer.]
"Very good. Let us know when you're in system. FleetComm out." Then, to his Operations officer: "When can we expect Admiral Wallace here?"
"Approximately forty-eight hours. The transwarp drive on the Odysseus failed at Ferenginar and they're proceeding at Warp 8 rather than lay in in Ferengi space for repairs."
"Open a private channel to the Admiral from my quarters."
[Under no circumstances are you to relinquish command, Tarik. You're the only one who can possibly hold this situation together. No one knows the Mulluran situation better.]
"Sir, this disease is destroying my memory. I just sent a lone ship into a war zone -- exactly the same bonehead thing Admiral Simmons did at Rostella IV -- only I don't have the excuse of being in the enemy's pay to account for it. I do not know how much longer I'm going to be competent enough to handle my own affairs, much less command a task force!"
[You're just under stress. Everyone slips under stress. The fact that you caught the mistake and corrected it shows you do have some grip. In about 48 hours I'll be in the theatre and assume overall command of the task force. You'll only have the ground forces to worry about; that'll take some of the burden. In the meantime, try to hold on. If you need them, use memory enhancers. They'll close the gap, at least for a time.]
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