Chapter 31: Revolution

The boat pulled into the shore on the ocean side of the isolated island. A cottage's light gleamed in the darkness. The crew of Solaria Federation Army First Ranger Platoon, Second Squad, scrambled ashore and ran up the beach to the cottage. Inside, they found a certain individual and two companions, who welcomed them happily. Within thirty minutes the Second Squad with their precious cargo rejoined the First Squad who had been covering the side of the island facing the nearby continent. Nobody saw the shuttle leave the ocean in full stealth mode and climb for orbit.

The Apache could now start transmitting the news feeds from five separate star systems, to tell both the Latecomers and the First Families the truth – something that their own domestic broadcasting systems were rather frugal with.

"Propaganda" is such a distasteful word, thanks to certain unsavoury historical leaders. That would be why Brother Silas was the Councillor for Information, not the Councillor for Propaganda. The difference between "information" and "propaganda" in his job description was minuscule, however.

The tall, blond patriarch of the Lawton clan was now trying to cobble together some sort of jamming system against the signals pouring in from multiple sources in orbit. The signals were all remarkably powerful and were coming in on a dozen channels. Live feeds were being picked up from a dozen star systems. They were not just showing his people – those he considered First Family chattel most alarmingly – how things were on other worlds, but how others perceived the now-infamous Bucyrus incident. Colony leader after colony leader made statements doubting the identity of the prisoner currently on Arcturus and identifying the culprit as a member of the Concillor's own clan, on his way to Deneb on a Solaria ship. Anything to shut that damnable set of satellites up, anything!

The Dissenters, meanwhile, had been busy. They were spreading pamphlets identifying the prisoner as an innocent lad from the country shires, and wherever Brother Silas had placed one of his portable jamming trucks it had been hit by Molotov cocktails and destroyed, the occupants barely able to flee in time. No lives had been lost – not yet, anyway – but the mood of the crowds was growing restive and ugly. There were calls in the Grand Planetary Council for a full open session and debate which not even the bought-and-paid-for pseudo-parties could fully stifle.

And Brother Jed was growing increasingly frustrated and taking that frustration out on fellow First Family clansmen. Brother Silas was desperate.

Brother Henry was growing desperate as well. Responsible for security, his police forces were reporting Latecomers were growing dissatisfied and restive even among the outlying shires. Whereas signal jamming was proving problematical in the city, in the countryside it was quite impractical and as a result the rural towns were in no doubt whatsoever about what the truth was. Unfortunately, that was where half the Frontiersmen weapons stockpiles were located. He redirected his men to guard certain seemingly innocent structures until such time as reservists could relocate those stores. He didn't bother telling his overworked police forces that those 'reservists' would be in reality Frontiersmen from the First Families – as most of the police themselves were First Family, they didn't need to be told.

A laser communications beam interrupted the Apache's captain's efforts at self-control. "Message from Uganda. Admiral Bonneville sends his regards."

She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Finally! Send to Uganda: 'Welcome to Arcturus. What are your orders?'"

"Aye aye, sir."

All the signals went dark, much to Brother Silas' relief. Then he realized, ALL the signals had gone dark: not just the foreign broadcasts, but the state broadcaster as well. The jamming was specifically targeted not at the bandwidth but at the broadcast transmitters themselves. As each facility switched to its off-site backup transmitters, those were rendered ineffective as well.

After an hour, Brother Jed hauled Brother Silas off to join an emergency session of the Planetary Council. Brother Jed opened the session with an update. "The Solarian Fleet has arrived in orbit. Our two cutters challenged the infidels, but the cutters were disabled and their crew captured. Our shot did not so much as scratch the enemy's hull paint." His disgust at the ineffectiveness of his tiny orbital patrol crafts' attack on the most powerful warships of the Worlds of Man was evident. "They have issued an ultimatum to me – to ME! – to surrender the entirety of the Planetary Council for questioning. We have but two hours more before they will broadcast this demand on every television across the planet."

The Council erupted in consternation. This was high-handedness on an unprecedented scale. No Latecomer – not even the Dissenters – had dared act so brazenly against those who considered themselves the Universe's natural, foreordained rulers.

"The government of Deneb Algenib considers that Arcturus has committed acts of war by attacking their ship, and their lapdog, the government of Solaria, agrees," Brother Jed spat.

"We need a hostage," Brother Henry suggested mildly. "We should take their trade representative captive. We can say it is for questioning, and create a fitting charge later."

They were completely unaware that at that moment, the trade representative was on board SFS Uganda, enjoying a cup of tea courtesy of Admiral Bonneville, and with his two friends being debriefed by the Admiral's intelligence staff.