Battlecruiser Alamo: The Price of Admiralty (23 page)

"All special security precautions are to be discontinued. Mr. Quinn? Mr. Dietz?"

The two officers looked at each other; Dietz replied, "Sir?"

"I want you to deploy extra assets to preventative maintenance. Let's treat this as a systems problem rather than a security problem, try and get ahead of the game a little. Focus your attention on critical ship and combat operations. I'd like a report on my desk within the hour."

"You'll have it, sir," Quinn replied. "What about our work on the administrative sub-net?"

"Is that critical under the criteria I just established, Lieutenant?"

The engineer smiled, and shook his head, "No, sir. I'll take the spooks off it for the moment."

"You just intend to ignore the sabotage, sir?" Tyler asked, looking nervously around for support, and not finding it.

Marshall shook his head, "By no means; that remains your primary goal. But I'm standing down the espatiers. Put your people on investigation rather than prevention. We've managed to yield the saboteurs the initiative, and that's going to change."

He looked around the room. "I am aware that there is a likelihood that at least one of the people in this room is working to disrupt this mission. I hope I've just given you a bad day. For the record, I will state that if anyone should come forward, even to confess, then I will make formal note of that in my log with a recommendation to clemency." He looked around the room again, running his gaze past Caine, Quinn and Tyler. "To those of you who are loyal, then I stress this – we all need to work together, or the bad guys win. Whoever they are."

A quiet affirmative chorus echoed around the room, and Marshall nodded. "I'm not going to make you all shake hands or anything, don't worry. Dismissed." He paused for a second. "Lieutenants Quinn and Zakharova, please stay a moment."

The officers filed out of the room; Dietz paused for a second by Zakharova, as if about to say something, but instead nodded his head and continued walking. As the doors slid shut, Marshall pulled a datapad out of his pocket, placing it squarely on the table in front of him. He turned to face Quinn.

"Lieutenant, you've been wearing a uniform of one sort or another since you were fifteen."

"Fifteen?" Zakharova turned to the engineer, who shrugged in response.

"Forged birth certificate. By the time they found out I was sixteen, and we were at war," Quinn replied.

"Regardless of the, er, unconventional method by which you got into the military, you've been in uniform long enough to know better than to act like that." Zakharova looked smugly across at the engineer, who was staring down at the desk. "I don't expect a repeat performance, Mr. Quinn. Is that clear?"

He mumbled, "Yes, sir. I'm sorry to have let you down."

"See that it doesn't happen again. Dismissed, Mr. Quinn."

The engineer rose, turned and walked out in a single motion, looking at the floor the whole time. Zakharova watched him walk out of the room, then turned to face Marshall, dropping her hands face down onto the table.

"I don't know if that's enough," she began, "I think Lieutenant Dietz ought to be assigned to keep a closer eye on him."

"Lieutenant, I did not ask you to remain to consult you about Mr. Quinn. I'm afraid we need to have a conversation."

She frowned, "What about?"

"If his behavior was poor, yours was a hundred times worse. And it isn't the first time."

"My job is to watch your back, Captain, to make sure that poor performance is corrected, and to make sure that you don't make any fatal mistakes and blunders."

Marshall's eyes widened at her arrogance. "Lieutenant, I think we have very different beliefs as to the role of an Executive Officer. Even so, I certainly don't see attempts to belittle officers as part of the duties you have laid out."

"Noted for future reference."

"I wouldn't worry about that." He slid the datapad over to her. "I have formally requested that you be transferred as soon as we reach Sol. I'd already made that decision prior to this meeting."

She rose to her feet, walking towards him, her hands waving dangerously in the air, "Because I'm not one of your Martian lapdogs, is that it?"

"Because I don't think you are a particularly good officer."

His words seemed to hit her like a hammer-blow, and she sat down in a chair. Yet there was something wrong about the reaction, as if she was doing it because she believed Marshall would expect it. She looked up, and in a small voice, replied, "I see."

"If you wish to be relieved now, then Senior Lieutenant Mulenga can assume your responsibilities for the duration of this mission."

She shook her head, "If I have the choice, sir, then I would rather continue until we get back to Mariner Station." She paused. "I will, of course, formally protest this action as soon as we get back."

"That is your prerogative. Dismissed." Marshall looked down at the datapad, then back up at the still-seated Zakharova. "Dismissed, Lieutenant."

Without a further word, she rose, saluted, and walked out of the room; the doors slid open to reveal Caine standing in the doorway. The two women exchanged stares for a second, then Zakharova laughed, muttered something under her breath, and stalked off down the corridor. Caine slid through the doors and dropped into a seat opposite Marshall, waiting for him to speak. After a long pause, she decided to break the ice.

"Your second-in-command seems rather unhappy."

"I just told her that I've put in for her transfer when we get back."

She sighed, "And what makes you think they'll accept it?"

Marshall's face dropped, and he looked from side to side, "What do you mean?"

"She was assigned for political reasons, Danny. What happens if they tell you that you are going to have to live with her?"

"I can't. I won't. This isn't personal, Deadeye, she's a menace!"

Caine shook her head, sighing, "You are probably right. I suspect that the Commodore will go along with it, and Mulenga can move up.  You're going to have to be more careful, though, Danny. You don't get to cherry pick the officers you work with. Oh, the odd one or two, maybe, and certainly you can put in requests – but sometimes you have to work with what you've got. This might be one of those times."

"Message received, Deadeye."

"I hope so." She smiled, "You might be surprised to know this, but some of us on the senior staff are hoping you'll break in as a
half-
decent skipper."

He shook his head, smiling back. "Talking about me behind my back? Isn't that against regulations?"

"Probably."

Marshall's communicator chirped; he pulled it out of his belt. "Captain here. Go ahead."

"Kibaki here, sir. We've been monitoring something strange taking place on the surface. A shuttle, by the looks of it an in-system type, launched from one of the dome settlements. It reached about twenty thousand feet, then the passengers all bailed out. Emergency escape."

"Did you get a bearing on where they landed?"

"We got them right down to the ground, sir." There was some noise, shouting in the background. "Wait one, Captain."

Marshall waited for a few seconds, looking at Caine. He was just about to call up when the communicator sounded again, this time with the watch officer shouting, "Sir! A ship just jumped into the system. Reads as a Lunar Republic fast transport."

He looked at Caine, who began typing specifications into the computer. A hologram of a ship, long and sleek with twin rings fore and aft, appeared over the desk.

"Course and speed, Sub-Lieutenant, though I think I can probably take a guess," Marshall replied.

"Directly for Ragnarok. Our estimates have them arriving in orbit in around six hours, but Sub-Lieutenant Franklin has suggested that they might break directly for the surface. This type of vessel has the capability."

"Standby, Sub-Lieutenant." Marshall closed the channel, and turned to Caine. "We can't let them land."

"We can't legally stop them. Not without starting a major incident."

"I need an option better than that."

She leaned forward, "Are you willing to start an incident over this?"

"The real question is whether they are, isn't it? They've got to be sending in supplies, maybe even troops." He pointed at schematics rolling down beside the hologram. "That ship can put fifty tons of cargo down on the ground. It was designed as a blockade runner."

"We can intercept it." Caine sighed. "What if it is carrying weapons? What can we do about it?"

"I'm certainly not just going to let it land." He thumbed the communicator back on again, "Sub-Lieutenant, try and contact that ship. Request that they come into an orbit that matches our own, and indicate that I urgently wish to meet with their captain."

"Aye, sir."

Marshall closed the communicator, then turned to face his tactical officer, "I know damn well what they are up to, Deadeye. They want control of this system one way or the other. Heck, those weapons we found on Mariner Station were probably intended to be shipped here; enough Republic transports use it to supply on their way out to the Belt that they could sneak in a few cargoes."

She smiled. "Smuggling."

"What?"

"That's our justification for the stop-and-search. Suspicion that the Lunar Republic is smuggling cargoes out of Mariner Station. We've already got plenty of evidence sitting in our armory – those grenades."

"I think you'd better make sure that they are officially logged in our manifest under the proper category. Get Tyler in on it, have him break out the regulations immediately, and have Corporal Stiles make his men ready to conduct it."

Caine paused, looking at the hologram, "What if we don't find anything?"

"Then we apologize and let them go on their way." He smiled, "I don't think that will happen, though."

She nodded, reached over, and squeezed his arm, smiling. Marshall started to punch in tactical schematics from their intelligence files, looking over the performance specifications of the ship. No arms or armor to speak of, taking it down in a firefight would be easy if they could slow it sufficiently. He called up to the bridge again.

"Kibaki here."

"Have Sub-Lieutenant Franklin plot a course that will give us a window within firing range of the incoming ship, but I don't want it implemented until it is impossible for the Republic transport to evade us."

"Firing range?"

"Firing range, if you please, Sub-Lieutenant. Then patch me through to the enemy ship; I want this message repeated at them until we get a reply."

He could hear the watch officer gulping, a trace of nerves in his voice. "I'm recording you now, sir."

"This is Lieutenant-Captain Marshall, commander of Triplanetary Starship Alamo. I hereby serve notice that you are under suspicion of smuggling illegal cargoes from Mariner Station, and under the terms of the Treaty of Vesta, I am formally instructing you to match orbits with Alamo and prepare for a customs inspection."

"Message dispatched, sir."

Marshall waited for a moment, mentally working out how long it would take to get a response to his message. Caine sat silently, plotting points of vulnerability for the gunnery controls. A few seconds later than he had expected, Kibaki piped the reply down.

A strong female voice came through the speaker. "This is Lieutenant Commander Xun Chu, of Transport Zhulong. We do not recognize the Treaty of Vesta as having any validity outside Sol System, and therefore decline your request for an inspection. Our intention is to land on Ragnarok, and I strongly suggest that you do not interfere with the business of our government."

Stabbing down a button, Marshall replied, "This is Lieutenant-Captain Marshall. The treaty violations took place in Sol System, therefore under the terms of the Treaty of Vesta, I have a right to inspect your ship. I am happy for third-party arbitration, but I must deny you permission to land until it is resolved."

Another wait, counting down the seconds until the reply, "We have no intention of yielding to your sophistry. If you wish, I will transmit our manifest for your inspection, but I refuse permission for your personnel to come on board. I warn you; any attempt to board us will be resisted."

"I think that's all that I'm going to get," Marshall said to Caine, shutting down the communicator.

"She's not going to volunteer for inspection; too much to hide. What about the frigates?"

He shook his head, "They couldn't get here before the freighter. My guess is that they will turn up when it tries to leave, unless we threaten it."

"Are you trying to force the issue?"

"One way or another." He looked down at the panel, sighing.

"What?"

"Couldn't the ship have arrived before the staff meeting?" He paged the senior staff to return to the briefing room, shaking his head.

Chapter 20

Forbes and Orlova had trudged through the snow for what felt like hours, before at last a small, battered old support dome, the red paint long since blasted off by the wind, came into view at the top of a mountain. There was a truck parked next to it, one that had obviously seen better days, linked by cables to a charging station. As they moved from snow to rock their feet found a path, and they followed it up to the door, where Forbes bashed for admittance.

"You lazy bastard, open up!" he yelled.

The door opened to reveal an old woman wearing a faded leather coat, four rings around each sleeve. She looked at the two of them and shook her head, before opening the door wider to let them in. Inside was a cozy little room, a few chairs scattered about with an electric fire in the middle of the room, an old-fashioned terminal in the middle of a desk piled high with reproduced books, a well-used fabricator sitting in the corner by a worn bed.

"Storm's bringing in some odd critters tonight, Forbes." She squinted at Orlova. "Who's this one? Bit young for you, isn't she?"