Tsar Wars: Agents of ISIS, Book 1 Read online

  “Yeah,” Judah said absently as he stripped off his dirty outfit. “Tsar Vasiliy’s dead.”

  “That’s the old news,” his roommate said with a dismissive wave. “Now the Velikaya Knyaghinya’s dead, too.”

  Judah’s blood ran cold. “What?”

  “Riots broke out all over the Empire when people heard the news. The Velikaya Knyaghinya was on Languor. She tried to get home, but some rioters blew up her ship before she could take off.”

  Judah sat down hard on a chair. His eyes suddenly couldn’t focus. “Are they sure?” he asked hoarsely.

  “No survivors. That’s what the newscasts say.”

  Judah’s head was spinning and his mouth went dry. The Velikaya Knyaghinya dead? That almost certainly meant Eva was dead, too; she would never have let herself get separated from the girl she was protecting.

  No survivors.

  Judah didn’t breathe for several seconds. His cousin, his partner, dead. She didn’t even want to take that assignment. She did it mainly for him, so he could go out and play spy like Ilya Uzi. And what had it all come to? The Velikaya Knyaghinya was dead anyway, along with Eva. He hadn’t been able to stop Kuznyetz’s plans, either. The best he could expect was to warn Wettig about who Kuznyetz really was. The rebellion had started anyway; whether or not Kuznyetz got the throne, the chaos would still continue. Millions of people, probably billions, would die. Bombings from space could well make some planets totally uninhabitable. Despite his and Eva’s best efforts, they’d failed to avert the catastrophe. What was the use of continuing?

  He saw Eva in his mind, her lovely face smiling, her agile, athletic body moving in perfect sync with his. He saw Vida’s beautiful face, too, and knew he’d been blessed to have two such phenomenal ladies in his life. And he’d failed them both. The Empire was being ripped apart, destroyed by forces he’d been powerless to stop. Why should he even bother to go on?

  Then Eva spoke to him. “Quit your kvetching, boychik. We’re a team, and a damn good one. Have a little faith in your partner. I’ve never missed a cue, and I don’t intend to start now.”

  Have faith in Eva. Trust in Eva. She’s never let you down, no matter how close to the wire she cuts it. She drives you crazy with her close calls, but she always makes it, doesn’t she? She won’t let you down now.

  Eva’s imaginary presence leaned down and pinched his cheeks. “The show must go on, remember?” she said as she faded away.

  Judah stood up and put on a clean tunic, new resolve in his face. One thing was for damn sure—this show was going on.

  Just as he finished dressing, Cdr. Aab entered the B.O.Q.. Everyone snapped to attention. The commander looked them over for a moment with a small smile of pride. “Damy i gospoda, we have been given a new assignment. Knyaz Yevgheniy has been summoned to Earth to serve on the Sovyet Knyazey that’s been called to deal with the current succession crisis. He has chosen his loyal kavalergardy to serve as his honor guard. This may be the most important assignment of your careers, and I expect you all to live up to the highest standards of the kavalergard.”

  “Sir,” asked a woman, “what about our posts here in the palace?”

  “The local militsia will take up those duties temporarily. Pack up your kits, on the double, and report to the drill yard in fifteen minutes for transport to the knyaz’s personal yacht. Dismissed!”

  Most of the kavalergardy immediately jumped up and began packing their kits like mad. There was surprisingly little talking at first; people were too busy deciding what to take and how to cram it into their small personal bags. The buzz of gossip would come later, when they were on the truck headed for the spaceport.

  Judah moved slowly at first, uncertain what to do. He had important information to give to Wettig, and he might not have a chance if he was trapped in the confined quarters of Kuznyetz’s yacht. He’d already postponed one chance to get the information out, and it nearly killed him. Could he afford to take that risk again?

  On the other hand … This was a way to stay right at the center of the plot and get transported to Earth at the same time. If he left now, he’d miss out on even more up-to-the-minute information. He’d have to stay hidden aboard the yacht so Kuznyetz and Marya wouldn’t spot him, but that might not be too hard. The yacht was large, and the owners weren’t likely to stray very often into the crew’s quarters where the kavalergardy would be housed.

  A timid spy isn’t worth his pay, Ilya Uzi said. Good information always comes with risks.

  He hadn’t been here long, so he didn’t have much to pack. He was ready along with the others when the order came to move out to the assembly point. The kavalergardy were loaded into three trucks to take them to Kuznyetz’s private space field. As they drove along, there was plenty of time for gossip and speculation.

  “I heard there’s been a military coup,” one man said. “Admiral Lu has always been an ambitious man, everybody says so. With the tsar and Velikaya Knyaghinya dead, he can grab power for himself without opposition.”

  “Don’t be silly,” a woman replied. “They wouldn’t call the Sovyet for that.”

  “Maybe the tsar had an illegitimate son,” another man spoke up.

  That brought a general laugh. “How? Immaculate conception?”

  The man, embarrassed, muttered something about artificial insemination, but that only brought more laughter.

  “Draco sector’s always been unruly,” someone else said. “I bet they’ll try to secede.”

  “If anyone secedes, it’ll be the Librans. You know what they’re like.”

  The conversation meandered on. Clearly everyone had an opinion on what no one knew anything about. Judah barely bothered to listen. People were talking just to hear their own voices, as though that would drown out the fear and uncertainty roiling through everyone’s mind at this critical juncture of imperial history. What was really happening? Would the Empire they’d all grown up with, so steady and secure, suddenly collapse like a house made of soggy cardboard? As part of Kuznyetz’s honor guard, they’d be directly at the center of one important piece of the puzzle. But, of necessity, that meant they couldn’t see the other pieces very well.

  Would they reach Earth in time to make a difference? Would their side be victorious? And, perhaps the hardest questions of all, did they even know what their side represented, and did they want it to be victorious?

  * * *

  Over his decades of careful planning, Yevgheniy Kuznyetz had put together a formidable coalition. It had been a painstaking process, but he’d managed to bully, subvert or outright buy the loyalties of almost every graf within the Scorpio sector of space. Furthermore, he knew he could count on thirteen other knyazya and all the resources available in their sectors. Another six wouldn’t actively support him, but neither would they oppose his actions.

  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 Fi
eld. 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 t
he 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.