No Honor in Death (33 page)

It acted like a warning signal that the past remained all too present, and that the
Stingray
was not yet safe.  Siobhan, of course, knew nothing of this, her mind totally focussed on the coming battle.  She had that ability.  Most captains did.  It was necessary, even essential.  Unfortunately, it left matters, including the bait she'd planted in her logs, in suspense.  Not for long though.

"Sickbay to the Captain,"  Luttrell's voice over the intercom snapped Siobhan out of her contemplation of the tactical subtleties of a back door assault.  The doctor had avoided her since the uncomfortable meeting over Able Spacer Vincenzo's beating.

"Dunmoore."

"You wanted an autopsy on Hartalas."

"Yes."  Siobhan's eyes narrowed in irritation, but she kept her voice calm and as friendly as she could manage.  "What did you determine?"

"He died of a broken neck, Captain.  Death was instantaneous."

"Caused by the fall?"

"Oh, he fell all right."  Silence.

Siobhan's lips thinned and she stared at the view screen, with its ever changing tactical display.  A computer's best estimate.  It only lacked the third icon, the one that completed the triangle.  But travelling in hyper-space, they could not know of the unexpected addition to the chase.

"Did the fall kill him?"  Siobhan finally asked.  Silence again.  She could literally picture Luttrell's shrug.

"Hard to say.  His body's a mass of bruises, including several on the back of the head and neck.  He took a tumble, but whether he was dead before, if that's what you're asking, or died when he hit the ground, I don't know.  I'm not a pathologist.  I've put him in stasis. You can have a specialist look at him when we return home."

It was clear that Luttrell wasn't about to advance a theory or discuss her gut feeling.  Accidents happened on a starship.  Fatal ones.  And on a ship considered unlucky, three accidental deaths in two months would not arouse as much suspicion as, say, on a well-run flagship.

"Thank you, Doctor.  Dunmoore, out."

Damn
.  Siobhan felt like punching the bulkhead, something that would have earned her a shattered hand, and probably an injection of some sedative or other while Pushkin and Luttrell discussed her mental state.  If there was something funny about Hartalas' death, only Drex's investigation could find it now.  And somehow, Siobhan doubted the Second Officer would come up with anything other than a verdict of accidental death.  Just like Vasser and Melchor.

She glanced at the tactical display again.  If the pre-programmed parameters held, she had another half-hour or so before the tricky part.  Before she had to show her crew how it was done. With short, brisk movements, she sat in the chair behind her desk and pulled the terminal into a comfortable working position.  Its screen came to life and she entered her personal access code, opening her log.

The text she'd written a few hours ago scrolled before her eyes, stopping at the end of what she'd termed the facts column.  A small, unobtrusive cursor blinked quietly just after the last period.  Then, two more lines scrolled beneath the text and Siobhan stared, frowning.  Kowalski's surveillance program was in place, and had already fingered two unauthorized hackers, two members of her crew who'd read the log entry out of other than simple curiosity.  The first name did not surprise Siobhan.  She'd suspected for a while now that Kery's nervous diffidence was a sham.  It made sense.  The Captain's clerk had the right kind of access and cover for unauthorized activities.

The second name however, shocked her and she slumped back in the chair, staring at the ceiling, trying to digest this piece of information.  It didn't make sense and yet was all too plausible at the same time, but Siobhan just couldn't accept it.  Something was very wrong.  She knew it, felt it instinctively.  Gregor Pushkin simply couldn't be one of 'them'.  And yet his name and access code flashed at the bottom of the screen, where Kowalski's program listed all those who had hacked their way into the captain's personal log, the only file in the computer restricted for anyone without her personal password.

Siobhan stood and stretched her tense muscles.  Then, she pulled out her blaster, checked the charge and placed it on the desk, within easy reach.  What she intended to do now might not be the smartest move, especially not with the ship about to go into action, but she wanted to have it out, clear the air and make sure she didn't have to worry about someone stabbing her in the back while she prepared to savage an enemy convoy.  She stabbed the intercom.

"Kery, report to my ready room."

Moments later the door slid aside with a soft sigh, and the short, plump and unassuming clerk stepped in.  Her eyes registered Siobhan's hard look, the lit computer screen and the blaster sitting on the desk by Dunmoore's right hand.  Understanding lit her dark eyes, but she went through the motions anyway.

"Captain?"

"Sit."  Siobhan pointed at a comfortable, deep easy chair by the closed porthole.  It was big enough to swallow the small clerk and make getting up a more difficult proposition.  Kery's expression, guarded as it was, betrayed her understanding of Dunmoore's choice.  Yet she obeyed, aware of the nearness of violent death.  Within the Service, Siobhan Dunmoore had been tagged as a hot-head, an impulsive officer with a cruel streak of ruthlessness, one who would not hesitate to act directly and brutally if necessary.  She was, in effect, a very dangerous, and very loose cannon.  As far as the Branch was concerned, of course.  The Navy had a somewhat different opinion, being mainly concerned with the destruction of the Imperial Deep Space Fleet, something for which Siobhan had proven ability.

"Tell me, Kery, will your superiors in the SSB miss you?"

The clerk-agent shrugged, having decided her game was up.  It was bound to happen.  No undercover agent could maintain the pretence forever and still do the work required by the spymasters on Earth.  Of course, spying on the Fleet was considerably less risky than other jobs, since the military took pride in its reputation for upholding the law and that law frowned on the unsanctioned execution of its servants, though it was something the SSB ignored routinely, in the name of national security.  But Siobhan Dunmoore had a reputation, and a loaded blaster.

"There's an old Earth saying, Kery, that curiosity killed the cat."  As if to make her point, Dunmoore's hand briefly rested on her weapon, like a furtive caress.

Kery, unimpressed by old sayings stared at the Captain impassively, determined to let her make all the moves.  The silence deepened as the two women stared at each other.

Then, "Surveillance program?"  The question slipped out of Kery's mouth before she could stop herself.  Curiosity indeed.  Dunmoore nodded.

"Now what?" The clerk asked, her eyes leaving Siobhan's face in favour of the tactical display.  They were very near the convoy now, and the Captain did not have the luxury of a lengthy game of wits.

"I suppose your telling me what this is all about is out of the question."

Kery smiled.  "I'm sure you can figure it out by yourself, Captain.  You'll understand that I cannot offer you any help.  You have your rules, I have mine.  And we both have another, common set of rules we are sworn to uphold."

"The SSB, sworn to anything other than their own ends?"  Siobhan snorted with disbelief.  "I could force you."  She picked-up the blaster and rested it on her thigh.

The spy shook her head.  "Please don't try, Captain.  I'm conditioned against interrogation and I'd rather not die quite yet.  Anyway, Starfleet does not have the authority to question SSB officers.  Your best move now is to hand me over to my Service.  It would avoid any further unpleasantness."

Siobhan's lips twisted into a cruel, hard smile.  "You know, Kery, if that's your real name, I don't give a rat's ass about whether I have authority or not.  We're not even in the Commonwealth anymore, and the laws put out by our dear, corrupt government don't mean anything here.  This is my ship and I can do as I damn well please, especially with a spy.  What proves to me you're with the SSB?  You could just as well be in the Empire's pay, in which case I can execute you quite legally right now.  Oh, I agree the Fleet won't be too happy if I splash your brains all over my ready room, but we're at war.  Interrogation?  I wouldn't dream of it.  But you're not conditioned against fear, are you?  As you said, you'd rather not die yet.  Or are you really willing to die for whatever corrupt activities your service used this ship?"

Kery shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned, though Siobhan knew better.  She had an almost animal ability to detect fear in others, and its smell surrounded the smaller woman.  Dunmoore's reputation, for once, worked for her.  Reckless, impulsive, a killer's instinct.  All those words resonated through Kery's mind as she watched the Captain stare at her like a wolf savouring the terror of a cornered prey.  And the agent knew how easy it was to cover up a death in deep space, especially with the protection of a high ranking Admiral.  Forenza had enjoyed Kaleri's patronage, misguided as it was, but Dunmoore reached even higher and Admiral Nagira was one of the Fleet's rising stars, a man tapped as a future Grand Admiral.

"Let's start with the usual pleasantries, shall we?"  Siobhan's predatory smile became even more pronounced.  "Rank, name and serial number."  When Kery didn't reply, Dunmoore pointed the blaster at her.  "C'mon, kiddo, don't piss me off."

Kery made a face.  "Very well.  But I assure you my superiors will not treat this lightly."  Siobhan snorted at the threat.  "My real name is Elidia Cayne, Major in the SSB, serial number oh-one-five-eight-alpha-six."

Siobhan nodded, amusement twitching at her lips.  "An officer no less.  My, this operation of yours must have been profitable.  What's the price for intermix controller modules on the black market these days?"

Her amusement grew as she saw the reaction in Kery/Cayne's face. 
Bingo, you little bitch. 
"Must have been a lot for the murders of four people.  I suppose Vasser and Melchor tumbled on to something they shouldn't have, and poor Byrn was more thorough in investigating their deaths than he should have been.  But sabotaging the ship, and then killing the man who did it seems to me a bit much.  Congratulations, though, on making it look like an accident.  You fooled the doctor."

A look of incomprehension flashed through Cayne's eyes and Siobhan stopped, all amusement vanishing.

"You're not responsible for Petty Officer Hartalas, are you?"  Which meant there was someone else aboard with a different mission, unconnected to the SSB, or at least operating in isolation from Major Cayne.  And that someone wanted Siobhan to think it was Pushkin.

The spy, feeling Dunmoore shift onto unknown and untested ground, regained some of her composure.  She let a small smile play on her full lips.  "I'm sorry, Captain.  I don't know what you're talking about."

Siobhan nodded.  "Maybe not.  But you do have Vasser, Melchor and Byrn on your conscience, or at least your service does.  That's enough for a one-way ticket to the Salusa penal colony.  But that's not my concern.  I'll see that the fleet does justice to your crimes, after they blow your scheme wide open.  I think I have enough now to point the investigators in the right direction, starting with the trader
Mykonos
."

The intercom buzzed, interrupting Siobhan before she could say any more.

"Captain, we're within the computer's estimated contact range."

"Thank you, Mister Pushkin.  Please ask Mister Drex to join me in the ready room with a squad of bosun's mates."

Pushkin didn't immediately respond, surprised by the request, but Dunmoore had trained her officers to respond promptly to orders. "Aye, aye, sir."

A few minutes later, Drex and four spacers showed up at her door, armed and armoured, ready for battle.  Able Spacer Vincenzo was one of them.  He and the others stared uncomprehendingly at the scene before them.  Only Drex showed no surprise.

"Sir?"

"Mister Drex, I'd like to introduce you to Major Elidia Cayne, of the Special Security Branch."

Siobhan waved at the seated woman, her words causing four jaws to drop in astonishment.  Drex's wasn't among them.  "You will take the Major into your custody, strip her of her clothes, scan her body for anything that might be used to commit suicide, then give her a pair of coveralls and confine her to a cell.  You will treat her as an officer of a Commonwealth service at all times.  No one is to speak to her without my permission, and that includes you."

Cayne looked at the Captain with an ironic smile, but Siobhan ignored her.  The coming battle made the spy very unimportant right now.  Her brain had already shifted to the more immediate problem.

Drex nodded briefly.  "Sir."

"Take her away, then.  And make it fast.  We're about to get busy with our Shrehari friends."

The hatch to the bridge hissed open.  "Captain."  Pushkin poked his head into the room, eyes shining with excitement.  "We have a contact."

"On my way.  Mister Drex?"

The Second Officer stopped in his tracks and turned his head towards her.  "Sir?"

"You won't have time to do a full search on the Major.  We're going to battle stations within the minute.  Just shove her in a cell as is.  If she wants to kill herself, let her.  But if she tries to escape or do anything funny, shoot, and ask questions later."