The Insurrection

He nodded his' head slowly, and when he spoke again, it was to swear an oath.

"Aye," he repeated. "It will be that!" "If this be treason, make the most of it!" William Patrick Henry, Before the Virginia House of Burgesses SECESSION Fleet Admiral Stepan Forsythe looked up from his paperwork as his communicator lit with the face of his staff communications officer.

"Yes, Iister Qwan?" "Sir," Lieutenant Doris Qwan said carefully "we're picking up something from a Mobius Corp mail packet. A transmission, not a courier drone." Forsythe cocked an eyebrow. A transmission meant they were in the same system as the packet, but why transmit at all? This system was uninhabited and far outside the I

"q'his is Captain Donald Stiegman, Federation mail packet Rising Moon, TFMP-11329. The following information must reach government authorities as qnieldy as possible.

Stand by to receive coded data; this is a Class One Priority signal." Forsythe stiffened. Class One Priority was assigned only to threats to the very existence of the Federation, and his finger stabbed the emergency buzzer on his desk as the screen dissolved into a blur of static. The image danced insanely for perhaps ten seconds, then cleared, replaced by Captain Stiegman's worried face.

"Reverse course immediately. Do not enter the Kontravian Cluster. Get that message out.

Stiegman, message ends." Forsythe's cabin door opened as Captain Enwright and Commodore Samsonov hurried in past an astonished Marine sentry. They slid to a halt, faces anxious, but Forsythe motioned them to silence.

He watched the screen blank briefly before the message repeated itself, then gestured both men to chairs and punched the override to recall Lieutenant Qwan.

"It's a loop, right, Lieutenant?" "Yes, sir, with an 'all ships" header.

We've been in-system over an hour without hearing a thing, so I think we caught his first transmission.

I'd guess he came through from Bantu and started transmitting the moment he hit normal space." "I see. Anything on that coded sequence?" "No, sir. I'm afraid the computers haven't broken the scramble yet, much less the code. I think he's using mail service protocols, sir." "Very well. Keep on it and do what you can." Forsythe felt litfie hope. Mail service codes were at least as good as the Fleet's codes.

"Yes, sir. Any response?" "Not yet. I'll get back to you." Forsythe turned to his juniors. Enwright's expression was thoughtful and waiting; only someone who knew him well would recognize the questions burning in his hazel eyes, but the curiosity in Gregor Samsonov's wrinkled forehead and hooded brown eyes was more evident. For-sythe smiled a wintry smile as he nodded to his flag captain and his chief of staff.

"Gentlemen, it seems we have a mystery." "Mystery, sir?" Trust Willis to ask the first question.

"You know as much as I do, Willis. You heard the message. Reactions?" Enwright sat very erect. "A few points seem obvious, sir." "Indeed?" Forsythe cocked his head.

"Enumerate, please."

"Yes, sir. First, he doesn't have any drones or he'd'ye sent the message direct to a Fleet base. Secondly, whatever the message is, it's both urgent and hot. If it wasn't urgent, he wouldn't be transmitting; if it wasn't hot, he'd transmit in clear.

Third, he's worried about pursuit. He's not in range of our sca

"And those three points, sir," he finished levelly, "lead to a fourth: he's absolutely right to declare a Priority One emergency." Forsythe drummed gently on his desk. It was a mark of Enwright's true stature, he thought, that there wasn't even a O-ace of 'I told you so" in his voice. He glanced at his cffief of staff.

"Gregor?" "I'm afraid I have to agree, sir," Samsonov said unhappily. Forsythe sighed heavily, feeling the full weight of his years, then nodded and managed a bleak smile.

"Well, I'm afraid I agree, too. It seems you gentlemen were right to urge me to split the task force." It was a bitter admission, but he made it calmly, then turned to his communicator and punched up the flag deck. The screen lit with Lieutenant Qwan's face, and he could just see his operations officer behind her. He smiled to himself.

Commander Rivera must have heard about his summons to Samsonov and Enwright.

"Lieutenant. Commander." His voice was as gravely courteous as ever. "Task Force orders, Commander. We will increase to flank and close the Bantu Warp point. Detach the battle-cruisers and Admiral Ashigara's carriers--- send them ahead of the battle line." "Yes, sir," Rivera said crisply.

"Lieutenant Qwan, inform Admiral Ashigara of the situation and see to it she gets a copy of Rising Moon's message. Then I want a message transmitted to Rising Moon immediately. Message begstns: Fleet Admiral For-sythe, CO TF 17, to Captain Donald Stiegman, master, TFMP Rstsstng Moon.

Message received--comgive him the time,

Doris. My force headed to meet you at max.

Estimate rendezvous with my advanced screen in-- was he raised an eyebrow at Enwright.

"Call it nineteen hours, sir." "In approximately nineteen standard hours, Lieuten- ant,"" Forsythe continued to Qwan. "Courier drone with your transmission dispatched. Good luck.

Message ends. Got it?" "Yes, sir. It's on the tape." "Good. Send it standard civil service cede, no scramble." "Yes, sir." "Thank you, Doris." Forsvthe switched off the communicator and turned back to lnwright and Samsonov. "And now, gentlemen, let us give some thought to our circumstances."" He smiled his bleak smile again. "Somehow I feel certain even my delicate touch will not suffice to make them any worse." Vice Admiral Analiese Ashigara, slim and severe in her black and silver uniform, sat on the flag bridge of TFNS Basilisk and watched the bright dot of the mail packet on her display. She glanced at acom rating.

"Anything from the patrols, Ashworth?" "No, sir. They're 150 light-seconds out, and they report nothing detectable in sca

"Recall them, Commander Dancing." "Aye, aye, sir." "Communications, raise Rising Moon." "Aye, aye, sir." There was silence on the bridge the silence of a professional team aware of the dangers of u

I assume you have a reason for declaring a Priority One message cndition?" "I wish to hell I didn't," Stiegman said in a rich New

Antworp ccent. "All hell's broken loose out here, ma'am, and no mistake. If you don't mind my asking, where's Admiral Forsythe?" "He is following with the battle-line, Captain," Ashigara said. "I expect him in approximately six hours." "Battle-line?ddment Thank God!" Stiegman seemed to sag towards the pickup. "You don't know what's going on out here, Admiral! They're crazy! They--was "Captain Stiegman," Ashigara cut him off, "I appreciate the strain you are obviously undbr. I would request, however, that you say nothing more over an open cha

"Certainly, Admiral. Send your cutter at once. The sooner I can tell someone else, the better, by God!" "Well, Captain Stiegman," Admiral Forsythe said as he handed the man a drink. "I have the essentials of your story from Admiral Ashigara." He sounded too calm. The Galaxy was collapsing around his ears, and he sounded too calm about it all.