Her Brother's Keeper - eARC (27 page)

“Perhaps, Gentlewoman, that that is the reason they are so shy,” Kimball said. “I don’t have much on me, I fear. However…” He pulled a folding knife from where it had been clipped to the pocket of his coverall. Very slowly, so as not to startle the aliens, he opened the blade, and presented it, handle-first.

“What…what is that?” the translator asked, her eyes wide.

“It’s a knife of course,” Kimball said. The alien took the blade eagerly, and showed it to his companion. In turn, he let Kimball take the obsidian knife. “A blade for a blade,” the cargomaster said, examining his new acquisition. “He seems happy enough with the trade. That knife is well used, but it’s made of the finest alloys and holds its edge. My new friend will get many years of service out of it.”

The translator looked aghast. “You brought a weapon here?” She stepped back timidly, as if she expected Kimball to leap up and slash her with alien stone knife.

“Gentlewoman,” he said levelly. “There is no need for any alarm.” He indicated his blade, which the aliens were opening and closing repeatedly, having figured out the locking mechanism. “It’s a tool for these fellows to use. They offered me one of theirs, so I offered one in kind. It only seems fair. I mean no one any harm.”

“But you were told!” she stammered, stepping back further. “They said you wouldn’t have any weapons! Why are you carrying weapons?” She looked around at the rest of the tourists, eyes wide.

Devree stepped forward, but kept recording with her handheld. Things were going sideways in a hurry and it was best to document it. “Hey, look at me. It’s okay. This is just a misunderstanding. Please calm down. We’ll leave, we’ll go back to the spaceport.”

“I…I have to report this,” the translator said. Before anyone else could say anything to her, she hurried off. She took the driver of their bus in tow and disappeared into a small room off to the side of the bazaar. The two aliens, no longer able to communicate with the humans, seemed just as confused as the spacers.

Kimball nodded to the creatures, then turned to the group. “Gentlefolk, I fear I have caused a drama. I apologize for this. If any of you are carrying pocket knives, I suggest you keep them hidden until you get back to spaceport. It seems these people take their no weapons rule well into the realm of the absurd. Mercenary Bishop,” he said, handing his alien knife to Wade. “Please hold onto this for me. Having a simple blade is apparently cause for alarm in this strange place. It makes one wonder how these people slice their vegetables without succumbing to panic attacks.”

The other colonists at the bazaar were hurriedly packing up their things and heading for the airlock. Before the spacers could decide what to do, the translator returned, leading a trio of security men. Instead of the plain garb worn by most of the colonists, they wore blue uniforms with armor and helmets. Their faces were concealed behind respirators and goggles. The first two appeared to be carrying stun batons, but the third had a flechette gun in his hands.

“That’s the one!” said the translator, pointing at Kimball. “He had a weapon in the presence of the protected ones!” The two aliens’ faces couldn’t be read by humans, but for all that they looked bewildered as the translator hurried them away and the security men moved in on the group of tourists.

“You are coming with us,” one of them said, pointing at Kimball. His voice was disguised with a modulator, making him sound robotic.

“Gentlemen,” Kimball said, hands raised in the air. “There is no need for this. This has all been a misunderstanding. I meant no one any harm. If you’ll just let me return to my ship, I’ll leave your world and there won’t be any issues.”

The security man stepped forward and shoved Kimball down to the ground. “Place your hands behind your head. Comply!”

The other drew his stun baton, crackling the electric shock device in warning to the group of spacers. “Do not interfere. Interfering with Peacekeepers in the discharge of their duties is a crime.” The spacers from the
Andromeda
stepped forward anyway. Devree put a hand on Wade’s arm; he looked like he was going for a gun.

“Stand down, all of you,” Kimball grunted as he was roughly restrained. “Do not make this worse than it is. Mercenary Starlighter, you recorded this, correct? Please send the video to the captain and return to the ship. This will get sorted out.”

“But,” Devree began.

“No buts!” Kimball interrupted. The security men were already leading him away. “Notify the captain!”

Annie looked up at Devree, fear in her eyes. “We have to do something! We can’t just let them take him!”

“I’m sending the video to the captain now,” she said quietly. “This is bullshit.”

“Captain Blackwood will do something,” Wade said. “She doesn’t fuck around. This won’t stand. Send it to Marcus too, just in case.”

“My dad won’t let this stand,” Annie said defiantly.

Devree put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “No, sweetie, I don’t expect he will.”

* * *

Captain Catherine Blackwood sat up straight in her chair on the command deck of the
Andromeda.
She smoothed the wrinkles out of her coverall and made sure her hair was all in place. Appearances counted for a lot in these sorts of dealings, and she wanted to be the very picture of the master-after-God of her ship. Standing behind and to the left of her chair was her executive officer, Wolfram von Spandau, with his hands held neatly behind his back. Marcus Winchester stood off to the side, arms folded across his chest, so that he couldn’t be seen on screen. The normal watch-standers had been dismissed from the command deck for the call. Taking a deep breath, Catherine tapped the controls on one of her several screens and waited for the call to connect.

After a moment, a young man in the drab gray outfit with a stand-up collar appeared on her screen. Like most of the colonists on Opal, he was almost sickly thin. “Greetings, Captain,” he said, speaking Commerce English with the unfamiliar accent the colonists all seemed to share. “My name is Desh. I am an appointed speaker for the Council of Elders. My word comes directly from them, and anything you tell me is the same as telling them. What is it you’d like to discuss?”

You know damned well what I want to discuss,
Catherine thought. She didn’t say that, though. Losing your cool doesn’t help your negotiations any. “Greetings, Mr. Desh. I am Captain Catherine Blackwood, commanding officer of the privateer ship
Andromeda.
I’d like to discuss the status of my cargomaster, one Jason Kimball. There was a misunderstanding at the trade bazaar this afternoon, and he was taken into custody by your security forces.”

Desh cocked his head to the side slightly. “Misunderstanding? Captain, there was no misunderstanding. I’ve seen video of the incident, and that video was corroborated by the testimony of multiple witnesses. Mr. Kimball was, in fact, carrying a weapon, specifically, a knife with a metal blade. It was made very clear by the guide that weapons are completely prohibited in our colony. This is doubly true in the presence of the indigenous beings. We are, after all, guests on
their
world.”

The indigenous being seemed bloody well delighted to receive that knife, you ass.
Catherine rested her elbows on the armrests of her chair, folded her hands together, and glared at the Speaker. “I also have seen video of the incident, sir. Indeed it
was
a misunderstanding. The so-called weapon the woman was hyperventilating about was a simple folding pocket knife. It’s a tool for opening packages and cutting things as needed. Every member of my crew has one. It’s very easy to become tangled up during an emergency in zero gravity, and a knife can be a lifesaving tool in that situation. It probably never occurred to my crewman that anyone would consider it a
weapon.
”

Desh narrowed his eyes and spoke in an almost scolding tone. “Captain, I mean no disrespect, but if there was a misunderstanding then it surely lies in the reading comprehension of your crew member. The terms and conditions listed as part of boarding the tour bus explicitly state, among other things, that metal-bladed weapons are as prohibited as firearms and energy weapons. Your man came into our home and violated our rules, Captain. Ignorance is no excuse for violating the law here.”

Her face was a mask, but Catherine’s blood was boiling. Either these people really were that unreasonable, or they were fishing for a bribe. “I see,” she said diplomatically. “Having traveled all over inhabited space, I’m well-versed in the importance of respecting local laws and customs. In the contract that each of my crew members signs is a clause stating that they are personally responsible if they should commit a crime while off of the ship. That said, I am on a mission of some urgency, and my cargomaster is currently incarcerated. I am unfamiliar with the specifics of your judicial system. Would it be possible for me to pay his bond and have him released? Rest assured I’ll take it out of his pay. We do need to be on our way soon.”

“I’m afraid that is not possible, Captain,” Desh said coolly. “Under our code, your crewman must remain in our custody until the next scheduled meeting of a Judiciary Tribunal. At such time, he can argue his case before the Council of Elders, and his fate will be decided then. If you wish, you can send a representative to speak for your crewman at his trial.”

They really
are
that unreasonable,
Catherine thought grimly. “I see. When, may I ask, is the next meeting of this tribunal?”

“Tribunals are held regularly, on the first day of the month, assuming there are cases to be adjudicated. The next one is scheduled in twenty-nine days.”

Opal’s day was thirty-four and a half hours long. Catherine barely managed to maintain her calm demeanor. “I see. And you’re sure that there’s nothing I can do to expedite this process?”

Desh raised his head, looking down his long nose at Catherine. “Captain, I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I’ve explained our laws as plainly as I am able. We will not violate the sanctity of our laws merely because some off-worlder imagines herself to be important and is in a hurry. Mr. Kimball’s trial will be in twenty-nine days. You can wait until then, or come back at that time and speak for him if you wish. Good day, Captain.” Desh’s image disappeared, and the screen flashed CONNECTION LOST.

“Goddamn it!” Catherine snarled, slamming a fist onto an armrest.

“They are being unreasonable,
Kapitänin,
Wolfram said, stating the obvious. “I feared this would be the case.”

“This is my fault,” Catherine said, rubbing her temples. “My gut told me not to let my crew venture into that bizarre little colony, and I just didn’t listen.”

“These things happen,” Wolfram said. “They are unfortunate, but they happen. It was a necessary risk. We have a long flight ahead of us. Letting the crew out on leave while we’re planeted is good for morale.”

Marcus spoke up. “I hate to be the one to say it, but maybe Kimball should’ve been more careful about what he had on him. Though, being honest, I’m willing to bet my two people both had ‘concealed weapons’ on them as well.”

“Rest assured,” the captain said, “when this matter is resolved I’ll be docking Mr. Kimball’s pay for the trouble. That said, I am not amused with the colonial authority’s nonsense, and I am not about to leave a man behind at the behest of some petty bureaucrat on this backwater swamp.” She looked to Marcus. “Mr. Winchester, do you feel your team is up for an extraction mission?”

Marcus rubbed his chin for a moment. “It’s very doable, Captain. From the video my daughter and Ms. Starlighter recorded, and other media we’ve been able to obtain, including telemetry from the ship’s sensors, their security is crude. These so-called Peacekeepers, the local constabulary, are few in number, and I have no reason to believe they’re particularly well-trained, not on an isolated colony like this. The colonists are pretty tight-lipped, but between our observations and what Mr. Halifax has told me of his previous visit, I have enough information to devise and effectuate a rescue plan. I think this would be a good real-world training opportunity for my team.”

Catherine looked thoughtful. “But?”

“Captain?” Marcus asked.

“But,” Catherine repeated. “I sense a ‘but’ in your assessment.”

“Captain, the question is, how many casualties are you willing to accept? I’m confident my team can accomplish this with a bare minimum of bloodshed. Even though we’ve lost the signal from his locator beacon, we believe Mr. Kimball is being held in a structure called the Office of the Peacekeepers. It’s basically a police station. While these Peacekeepers might be poorly trained, I don’t expect they’ll let us take Kimball without a fight. It could get ugly in a hurry. I believe we can retrieve your crewman, but there might be broader consequences to this course of action.”

Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “Are you suggesting I leave my crewman to his fate?”

“Ma’am,” Marcus said calmly, “I’m not suggesting anything. You’re paying me a lot of money for my expertise, and I’m giving you an honest assessment of the situation. I can get your man back. The consequences of that course of action are yours to deal with, not mine. We’re outside of Concordiat space, and by extension the jurisdiction of my government.”

Wolfram von Spandau spoke up then. “He is correct,
Kapitänin
. This colony does not have any extradition, law enforcement, or recognition treaties with any other colony or government. Their laws are not recognized by the Concordiat or anyone else. Regardless, we must proceed cautiously. Our crewman broke one of their asinine laws. Retrieving him by overt force and killing their citizens could be considered an act of piracy. If these people successfully lodge a complaint against us with Concordiat authorities, we could be blacklisted. We’d never be able to safely operate in Concordiat space again.”

Catherine knew all this, and her executive officer shouldn’t have had to remind her. But he was doing what a good exec does: keeping his Captain out of trouble. She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. “You are right, of course, both of you. I’m just frustrated, forgive me. I have no patience for tyrants of any sort, and I find the petty ones to be the most insufferable. I could
destroy
their colony if I was willing,” she said darkly. “I wouldn’t even need to waste our ammunition—landing the ship in the middle of town would turn most of it to glass. But…obviously I won’t do anything like that. The question is, gentlemen, what
can
we do?”