Rich Man's War (27 page)

“So you aren’t sure if you spoke with the captain or a subordinate?”

Tanner blinked. “No, ma’am.” He noted the slight darkening of her brow. Again, he thought back to his talk with Vanessa, and Lt. Kelly’s exchange with Booker and Chief Romita on
Joan of Arc
.

Yeoh doesn’t know who’s in command of that ship?

Movement in the waiting room caught their attention. Tanner noted the gradual return of the panel of officers to the briefing room. No one would rush the admiral, but she wouldn’t keep them waiting. Tanner wondered if he should say anything about what he knew. For all the distance of rank and power between them, Tanner knew that Yeoh trusted him.

So did the woman who’d carried him away from a hail of gunfire.

“I am very glad you made it out of there alive, Tanner,” she said softly. “When
Joan of Arc
came back without you, I… well. I wanted you to understand that your record up ‘til now hasn’t been a fluke. I also wanted you to realize you won’t have to handle every crisis alone. That’s why I put you on
Joan of Arc
. I just didn’t realize how hairy things would become, or I’d have sent a hell of a lot more than one extra corvette.”

“I’m not secon
d-guessing you, ma’am.”

Her smile made
a faint return. “Thank you. I’ve got to get back in there. It’ll be your turn soon enough.” With that, she turned to go.

“There’s a lot of secrets to deal with here,” he said. “Aren’t there, ma’am?”

She stopped and looked back to him. “What does Sun Tzu say?”

“That warfare is based on deception.”

The admiral nodded. “Yes, it is. I’m glad you made it back, Crewman.” She disappeared behind the briefing room door, and then Tanner was alone. His holocom screen remained. So did his concerns.

That ship took a shot at us
,
and even Yeoh doesn’t know who’s in command
.

He didn’t fixate on
Argent
. In the long run, Tanner figured, he might never run into that ship again. Its captain might get cashiered for nearly killing people with friendly fire, or perhaps it was a legitimate accident. Regardless, he would likely never know.

Non-rate crewmen didn’t get the full rundown on every operation. Lt. Kelly’s example aside, information didn’t often trickle down that far.

Tanner brought his fingers to the holocom screen. He keyed in several commands, calling up the ratings offering the highest security clearance. He eliminated the engineering and administrative groupings, knowing that neither appealed to his interests.

Cryptologist
.
Tanner didn’t bother. The job involved Epsilon security clearance, but it also involved spending a great deal of time staring at computer screens in a locked room on either a huge ship or a headquarters unit. He knew he’d go insane.

Intelligence Specialist:
collects and analyzes data on threats and strategic concerns across the Union and beyond. Assists in planning future operations. Applicants must qualify for Epsilon security clearance.
He stared at the brief statements thoughtfully. In one of her last letters, Allison mused about shifting her focus at Annapolis from small unit command to intelligence… but that was the Union Fleet, and she was in training to be an officer. Tanner didn’t imagine he’d see much field work as a junior enlisted man, and he wouldn’t consider a second term.

Master at Arms: provid
es law enforcement and security. Maintains order and discipline, conducts criminal investigations and some counterintelligence duties. Often involved in boarding team operations. This is a combat arms position. Applicants must qualify for Epsilon security clearance and provide character recommendations from their command.

This is a combat arms position,
he repeated in his head.

Tanner sat back in his chair and stared at the text.

* * *

“Initial critical review of Operation Juniper shows a complete failure. No tangible objectives were achieved. The consulate staff escaped capture after scrubbing the building clean of any data that might have been of use. Several of our operatives were killed and others injured.

“However, the tangible objectives were all secondary to Juniper’s ultimate goals. Primarily, Juniper was conceived as one of many operations geared toward placing stress on Archangel’s military and political establishments to assess their capabilities in order to gauge the viability of future operations. As such, Juniper was a success. The operation also offered field testing of new equipment and procedures. Further, all indications hold that the company may maintain full deniability of involvement with the incident.

“Most importantly, Juniper may have exposed a critical information leak. Investigations are currently underway. Though leaks of this nature are never to be taken lightly, Juniper was ultimately a low-cost, low-impact operation. This incident presents us with an opportunity to resolve information security concerns in advance of significantly larger operations.”

--Incident Report (Maximum Confidentiality),
Maria Pedroso, NorthStar VP of Risk Management, May 2276

Maneuvering

“Applicants to the Master at Arms rating must provide three recommendations from active duty personnel of NCO status or higher, including a minimum of one commissioned officer. Please list recommending personnel with assignment/command below:

Lieutenant Lynette Kelly, Commanding Officer, ANS Joan of Arc

Colonel Daniel Figueroa, Commanding Officer, Ascension Hall Honor Guard

Admiral
Meiling Yeoh, Commanding Officer, Archangel Navy”

--Personnel File for Crewman Tanner Malone, June 2276

The first morning at Fort Melendez convinced Tanner that his rating school would be nothing like his time in basic at Fort Stalwart or his still relatively regimented month with the marine recruits in weapons and tactics school. The syllabus and all of his research promised a fairly rigorous four months, with time set aside daily for PT in addition to significant combat training. Yet most of the schedule lent itself to classroom time.

He saw listings for lectures, examinations and mock trials. Master at Arms training would involve more than a little bit of roleplay. Often enough, he’d just be himself. Sometimes he’d be called upon to be the bad guy. When Tanner checked in at the barracks and first started meeting the other members of his class of non-rates—along with aspiring Intelligence Specialists,
Survivalmen, Cryptologists and the students of other ratings schools on the base—he even got the impression that he might have a good time with all of this.

The tables set out for Tanner’s class of thirty on their first day reminded him of his first meeting with Everett and Janeka, but MA1 Hartford took to the front of the room and struck a decidedly different tone. He didn’t bark, nor insult anyone, or have to deliberately call the room to order. Students all quieted down and listened as soon as he stepped up to talk, mostly about base regulations and ordinary concerns. He joked and smiled.

Then, with his eyes flicking up beyond the assembled class to the door at the rear of the room, he called, “Attention on deck.”

Everyone rose and snapped to attention. “As you were,” said the newcomer. As Tanner and the others sat back down, they saw Hartford step aside for an older man in a crisp but standard grey
Navy service uniform—with bloodstripes on his trousers and admiral’s stars on his shoulders and collar.

“Morning, everyone,” he said, offering a friendly enough smile. “Sorry to derail the class here, but the instructors tell me it’s better to do this early rather than late. If you didn’t see my handsome face on the wall with all the other base officers in the barracks lobby, I’m Rear Admiral Todd Branch, and I’m the CO of this base here.” His accent immediately gave away his origins. He had to be from one of Archangel’s asteroid mining colonies. “To be honest,” he admitted, “I don’t know why I introduce myself with my first name anymore, ‘cause if any of you called me ‘Todd,’ military custom would obligate me to have you skinned alive.”

Most of the class chuckled. Admiral Branch gave a shrug. “You’ll probably only see me this once, and then at graduation. I’ll give a nice, folksy speech about duty or patriotism or whatever. If you have family there, they’ll get inspired after seeing how far a hick like me can go in the Navy and they’ll probably project all of those hopes onto you, so you’re welcome for that.

“I come down here on the first day of every new class of MAs because you folks have an exceptional degree of responsibility within
the Navy. You all passed through a pretty serious selection process to get here. And you’re all part of the ‘new guard,’ too, so you’ve already come through a new breadth and depth of training. It’s okay to be proud of that. The old codgers around here still have plenty to teach you. I’m more concerned about the responsibility of your rating.

“You’re gonna spend a lot of time playing security guard once you get out of here. You’ll babysit morons in the brig who did stupid shit because they were drunk or frustrated or whatever. You’ll walk around a ship or an orbital station or a base and make sure doors are locked like they should be. Sometimes you’ll serve on boarding teams and maybe someday you’ll be part of real criminal investigations. But hopefully before you signed up for this, someone told you that
the job are usually—
hopefully
—pretty mundane, and the most exciting thing you’ll do is break up a brawl once in a blue moon.

“The thing is, you’re part of a very powerful organization with
the Navy. And you may well find yourselves in combat someday. I’m here to tell you, both as a high-falutin’ officer and a combat veteran, that these are two things that will make people
lose their goddamn minds
, and that’s gonna be the real test you face as a Master at Arms.”

He paused and looked around the classroom as if to ensure he still had everyone’s attention, but he needn’t have bothered. Everyone knew when to shut up and listen.

“You are here to enforce the law. You are also here to enforce the chain of command. Ideally, these are one and the same, but there are times when it’s someone above you in the chain of command who screws that up. People in power sometimes abuse power. People in combat sometimes just plain throw the law out the window once the shooting starts, and we actively teach you all to fight dirty—but there’s a difference between fighting dirty and committing a crime. And it can also be difficult to know when the fight’s actually over and it’s time to pull back from the ruthlessness and return to what we ordinarily consider normal behavior.

“The most difficult challenge you may ever face isn’t an enemy who’s out to kill you,” said the admiral. “It isn’t aliens, it isn’t pirates,
it isn’t bombs and bullets and nonsense lasers. The most difficult challenge you may ever face in this service is the prospect of having to face down your own shipmates, including an officer or NCO above your rank, because you know what they’re doing is wrong. Everyone has that responsibility, from the Chief of Naval Operations right down to the newest recruit showing up on the first day of basic. It’s tough to swallow. It’s tough to recognize that moment when and if it comes. And, to be honest, it isn’t remotely fair given the way you’re trained to fight dirty and obey orders without question or hesitation. But that responsibility exists. It never goes away.

“You men and women, who will be Masters at Arms, will carry that burden closer and more dearly than anyone else, because you aren’t ordinary crewmen anymore. You’re officers of the law. You will be taught here to keep vigil over your shipmates and their behavior. You will be educated in the laws and the ethics of military service, and anyone who says those things don’t exist or don’t matter has watched too many movies. Laws and ethics are what make an army or a navy something different than a mob of assholes with guns. We cannot let ourselves become that mob. That’s where your real responsibility lies.

“You, even more than any of your other shipmates, must know when to say, ‘Aye, aye, sir,’ and when to say, ‘No, sir. That’s illegal, sir. That’s
wrong
, sir.’ And you may even, God forbid, someday have to say, ‘You’re under arrest,
sir
,’ when you know that ‘sir’ holds the unquestioning loyalty of everyone around you.

“You are not commissioned officers. Chances are slim that any of you will make it beyond third class before your first term of enlistment is up. But when you leave here, you will not only be Archangel Navy crewmen, you’ll also be officers of the law. You are invested with authority
and a sacred trust… and that isn’t done just for you to turn a blind eye or walk away from a confrontation.”

* * *

“In a crushing blow to Archangel, StellarCast Communications has opted out of a deal to provide access to its communications drone network. With so many providers declining to carry Archangel traffic, the system must provide for interstellar communications on its own. StellarCast CEO Vikram Pandit denied rumors of pressure from Lai Wa and NorthStar regarding his decision. ‘We simply felt that Archangel’s low credit and other trouble made the deal a bad risk,’ Pandit explained.”

--Armstrong News Service, June 227
6

“Yes, long-term occupations are… I’m sorry, did I call it an occupation again?” Brekhov sighed. His public affairs advisor nodded. Brekhov leaned back in his plush desk chair, waving one hand as if to banish the word from the air. “Peacekeeping operations, I should say, are inherently unprofitable in the short term, yes. We must look at operations in Hashem as an investment.

“Additionally, we’re a neutral party in all of this. We contracted out ships in order to ferry troops, of course, but Prince
Murtada assured us that the operation would be peaceful and there is in fact substantial question as to who fired the first shots. There may have been provocateurs at work. At any rate, our troops and CDC’s are coming in to create a buffer and restore the peace. Our jobs will be about reconstruction, law and order and stability. Should Prince Murtada and Prince Kaseem continue to fight on through the rest of the Kingdom—tragic as that may be, and we’ll naturally work to restore the peace—the ordinary people of Scheherazade and elsewhere will know we’re there to protect them from that turmoil. In the end, they’ll remember us as protectors regardless of the final political outcome. Good enough?”

“I think so,” said his interviewer. “I’ll give the language a polish and then get it back to you before it goes out to the shareholders.”

“See that you do,” Brekhov nodded. “We want to speak to our shareholders’ interests, but this is bound to get out into the open media. The troubles of serving two masters,” he added, and then dismissed the aide with a polite nod.

“How sure can we be that
Murtada won’t turn on us?” asked Jon Weir. He glanced up from the screen of notes floating over his lap to take the drink offered to him by Brekhov’s butler. Brekhov had a brilliant, well-appointed home overlooking the ocean, with sunlight streaming in through bay windows behind the CEO’s desk. It made for a nicer setting than the executive suites in the city—especially with all of them still being scoured for bugs and other spying devices.

Meetings on matters such as this were never discussed in those offices, anyway.

“Because Murtada is dependent on us for guns and fuel,” snorted Maria Pedroso. “Come on, Jon. This isn’t exactly our first rodeo. We know his timelines. It’ll take at least two years for him to pacify the rest of the Kingdom, and that’s if things go swimmingly for him. The King still has loyal people, and they’re only now getting fully mobilized. The King also has Prince Khalil, whom most of the population would rather see as successor. Kaseem’s people are on the move and won’t give up without a serious fight. Murtada will slow down as soon as he gets a bloody nose.”

“
He’l lean hard on his holdings for further resources and manpower,” said Brekhov, “and then we’ll intercede, publicly, as a matter of conscience. The people of Hashem will see it. And then yes, Jon, they’ll prefer us to any of their princes.”

Weir shifted a bit in his seat. Maria looked perfectly relaxed, dressed in stylish but casual clothes for a vacation, just like their boss. Weir still wore his suit, having come from slightly more formal duties elsewhere on Fairhaven. “Still, the short-term expense of keeping the fleet engaged in the
Scheherazade system and all the rest is a strain on the budget. Every day I get an earful from Donaldson about our cash reserves. We’re stretched thin as it is.”

“It’s a gamble, I’ll grant,” Brekhov
agreed, “but our exposure is limited. Lai Wa has seen fit to underwrite a certain degree of the operation, given that we’re salvaging or protecting a good number of their assets with all this. And if we have to scale back our exposure further, we’ll pressure the Union Fleet to step up and take their share of the burden.”

“You think they’ll do that?”

“They will if we push them hard enough,” Pedroso nodded. “We have more leverage on them than the guns and butter stuff. We own fifty-eight percent of all the personal debt among fleet personnel. If we dangle the right incentives, the fleet’s leadership will be chomping at the bit for the Union Assembly to let them go in. That’ll be all the political cover those assholes need.”

“Mm. About that,” Brekhov said, sitting up and putting his drink down on his desk. “Donaldson gave me a better analysis of our pressure tactics for Archangel. I think it’s time to pull another tool out of the box.”

“Excuse me, sir?” the butler interrupted. A small holocom screen floated near the man’s hand. “Mr. Donaldson just arrived. He’s asking to see you immediately. Apparently he’s on his way through the mansion now.”

Brekhov received the news with a curious frown. “Speak of the devil. Is anyone with him?”

“No, sir. He’s alone. I’m sorry I didn’t catch this news sooner.”

“It’s fine. Have him shown in.” The words had hardly left his mouth before Brekhov heard a knock at the door to his spacious home office. “Ah. He must be in a real hurry.” With a gesture of his hand, Brekhov had the door open. “Terry, welcome. I take it this is something urgent?”

The tall, thin man in the suit hardly slowed his stride until he reached Brekhov’s desk. “You’re going to want to see this, Anton,” he said. He tapped the ring on his finger to open up his own stylish holocom, a model so streamlined it wasn’t yet on the open market. Screens opened up. Donaldson breathlessly input commands, opening up a larger screen for Brekhov’s benefit. “You know about the stock drop for CDC over the last few weeks?”