“They don’t intend to, Carver.” Captain Aames pointed at the main screen. “Those are sabers. You can’t hear them rattling in space, but that’s what they are. This is their way of threatening us. They expect us to knuckle under. If we don’t, they’re promising to let us ram into those objects.”
“They can’t do that.” I thought of all the crew, all the innocent passengers. “That would cripple the Aldrin, maybe destroy her. No one would win then.”
“They can do it, and they want us to know it. Will they, though? That is the question. Would they rather lose the Aldrin than let me run this ship the right way? Or is this all a bluff?”
“It has to be a bluff,” I insisted. “They’re not insane.” I was trying to convince the captain. Or at least myself.
The captain stared at the dots dancing on the main screen. “Carver, never underestimate how far an admiral will go to prove that he’s in charge. I don’t believe Knapp is the type to bluff. Call a meeting of the senior staff. It’s time we devised some more active defenses.”
Q: Active defenses? So you did have weapons? You were prepared to attack Admiralty ships?
Again, I cannot confirm the existence of weapons, Inspector. I can only confirm that we discussed defenses, and we made emergency plans should the Admiralty fire on us.
Meanwhile, the dots—as we drew closer, we could see that they were barges, as Howarth had predicted—settled into a high orbit around Earth. They were no longer burning fuel, and they were no longer in our travel lane; but we knew they could be redeployed in a matter of a few hours.
When Captain Aames wasn’t busy with our defenses, he was pushing Baker. “Have you reached the admiral yet?” “Any word from Orbital Defense yet?” “Get me through to Admiral Morais, damn it!” But we were still jammed on all command channels. Baker tried routing through every civilian alternative he could find; but every time he found an opening, the Admiralty shut it back down.
We were just under two days out from perigee when the supply barges started breaking out of orbit again. This time we were close enough to watch the elaborate dance in operation: barges boosting into our lane and back out, fuel carriers meeting up with barges so the dance could continue. The barges were small compared to the Aldrin as a whole, but large compared to any single ring. An impact with a barge would smash right through a section of a ring, and then our own rotation would tear the ring to shreds. The stresses from that would twist the central shaft. When the barges had our lane thoroughly blocked, we would be powerless to avoid them: our own inertia would pull us right through them. If we started maneuvering immediately, we might avoid them, but only by falling off our cycler orbit.
And just in case the barges weren’t enough of a threat, Howarth reported that Orbital Defense fighters were deploying from their base into a higher orbit, one that would intercept our course right after perigee. To finish the job.
That was when the command channel suddenly opened, with an incoming call for us. Captain Aames turned to the main screen, his eyes bright. I turned as well, sure that Baker had finally gotten through to Admiral Morais.
But instead we saw Admiral Knapp. His gray hair and his angular face framed his cold, unforgiving eyes staring out at the captain. “Aames, you are ordered to stand down and turn command of the Aldrin over to me. Now.”
Aames stared right back. “Admiral, move those barges, or we’ll move them for you. Aames out.” He cleared the screen.
“Captain.” I tried to calm down. I could tell Knapp was beyond reasoning, but I still might get through to Aames. “We can’t let them do this. The passengers . . . the ship . . .”
The captain turned his stare on me. “Carver, I don’t believe it. They’re not going to attack this ship. They just want me to back down.”
I tried not to sound desperate. “And you will, right?”
“Not on your life.” His eyes were wide. I think he was enjoying the confrontation.
Q: Chief Carver, are you implying that Captain Aames was mentally incapacitated? Is this some new defense angle?
No, Inspector. The captain was as sane as ever, he was just sure he was right. He was confident that he had final control of the situation.
Then he turned back to the comm station. “Baker, did that new channel pan out?”
Baker leaned over his display. “Sir, I think so. I should be able to give you a few minutes routed through weather satellites. Here you go, Captain.”
The main screen lit up again, only this time it was Admiral Morais. Her face was lined, there were dark circles under her eyes, and her uniform was shockingly disheveled; but I would still recognize her anywhere—one of the two best commanders I had ever served under.
The captain’s voice softened. It sounded odd in the harsh environment of a ship’s bridge at war. “Admiral Morais. It’s good to see you.”
I listened for Morais to respond in kind, but she went straight to business. “Captain Aames, I strongly urge you to stand down. You have no doubt scanned the supply barges in your path.”
The captain nodded. “We picked them up days ago. We have some surprises in store. We think we can shoot a few supply barges out of our way.”
The admiral shook her head. “They’re not barges, Captain, not anymore. They’ve been equipped with extra fuel, and they’ve been stripped down for maneuverability. They’re not going to sit and wait for you. Those are torpedoes, and they’ll be headed your way any minute.”
Over the years, I had seen many expressions on Captain Aames’s face: anger, determination, sorrow, scorn, even a smile every year or so. But that was the first time I had ever seen shock. “That will destroy the Aldrin, tear her apart. We can launch lifeboats, but a lot of people will still die. And they’ll still lose the Aldrin. That won’t help anyone. It will cripple Earth-Mars commerce. It may lead to starvation on Mars.”
The admiral shook her head again. “No, it will make opportunities for Holmes and his fast boats.” I realized then: losing the Aldrin might actually be profitable for Anton Holmes. And for his friends in the Initiative Council. Maybe even for some in the Admiralty.
Captain Aames didn’t seem to want to believe it. “That’s insane. There aren’t enough fast boats for the cargo they need to haul, and the fuel costs will put nearly every load into the red. This makes no sense.”
But Comptroller Lostetter spoke from her console. “It’s possible, Captain. Holmes has been expanding their fast boat fleet. And if the loads are in the red, they can just raise their transport fees. It’s not like Mars can afford to do without resupply. They’re ten years away from self-sufficiency.”
Admiral Morais said, “My contacts tell me the same thing. Holmes can do it. But this is about more than money, it’s about pride and power. Nick, you’ve made enemies of too many people, and the wrong people. They have to stop you, to save face and to make an example of you. If the cost of that is the Aldrin, they just don’t care anymore. They’ll tell everyone it was your actions that led to her destruction. And they’ll convince enough people so that they themselves will escape without consequences.”
But Captain Aames wasn’t ready to give up. He leaned closer to his comm mike, and he spoke in a low voice. I don’t know if anyone on the bridge could hear him besides myself. He said, “Admiral, please. Call off those ships.”
“I can’t, Captain.”
“You’re in charge of Orbital Defense, Rosie. You don’t have to go along with this. You can fight Knapp and Holmes with me. People are going to die. Call them off!”
“Nick, I can’t! I’ve been relieved of command.”
“What?”
The admiral nodded. “I’m not even supposed to be talking to you. I have a friend in comm services who may face charges for letting me use this channel. Nick, they’ve reassigned anyone who ever served under you, given them busywork to keep them away from this assault. And me . . . Well, they flat-out accused me of having divided loyalties, so they kicked me aside. My career is as finished a
s yours.”
“You? That’s ridiculous. You’re the only one in the Admiralty with any brains, and no one is more devoted to the Corps than you. Tell them they’re wrong, grab control, and stop this madness.”
“Nick.” Admiral Morais looked down at her hands. “They’re not wrong.”
They both went quiet at that, and the silence stretched out. Finally Aames said, “So you can’t stop this.”
Morais looked up. “And they won’t stop this, I’m sure of it, Nick.” Aames said nothing; they just looked into each other’s eyes. Tears pooling in hers, Morais continued, “Captain, you break every rule, you defy every authority, you do whatever you must to bring your people home safe. Now they’ve pushed you into a corner. They’ve lied to you, and you hate that. But don’t let that make you rash. Don’t let them break you.” The admiral started weeping, giant round bubble tears rolling slowly down her face in Luna’s low gravity. “You’re the only one who can stop this. Save the Aldrin, Nick. Save your people.”
Captain Aames turned his back on the bridge. I heard a catch in his voice when he said, “Lieutenant Baker, contact Admiral Knapp. Tell him I want to discuss the terms of my surrender.”
13. THE WORLD ACCORDING TO GALE
FROM THE MEMOIRS OF PARK YERIM
10 JUNE 2083
Chief Carver finished his testimony, and then he sat silently, waiting for more questions. I stared at Matt’s transcript on my comp, but too much was running through my mind. Carver had been right: the events of 7 March and later 9 May made more sense when you put them in context. I had had the facts before, but only facts as reported by the Admiralty. Carver’s story sounded like something fabricated just to shift the blame away from Aames. But after my call from Holmes . . .
I couldn’t leave the chief waiting while I thought. “Thank you, Chief Carver. That’s enough for now. If I have more questions, we’ll contact you.”
“Thank you, Inspector.” Carver rose from the guest chair and saluted me. I was flustered by that: saluting isn’t common in the IG Office, and I had more experience giving salutes than receiving them. But I realized that Carver was right: as the inspector general on a vessel where the chain of command was in dispute, I was de jure the senior officer on board until the dispute was settled. Knapp didn’t act like I was, and no one else seemed to. Even I hadn’t been behaving like it. Carver and Admiral Reed seemed to be the only ones who understood the protocol here.
I stood and returned the salute. “You’re dismissed, Chief.” Carver turned and left the dark office, and Matt followed, leaving me alone to recall how my life had changed immediately after Aames’s confrontation with the Admiralty.
It was 9 May 2083, a date that had started as nothing special. I first knew everything in my life was changing when a call came in on my earpiece.
“Junior Inspector Park, this is Admiral Reed. Get to the shuttle deck immediately. Do not miss the rendezvous shuttle with the Aldrin. I don’t care if you have to knock people out of the way to get there, just move.”
I rose from my desk and looked around my office on Farport Station. The slate-blue walls were covered with photos of my family and my few friends from school. “The Aldrin? Mars, sir? Should I bring anything?”
“I said move!” So much for my photos; I grabbed my desk photo of Mother and Father as I left the office. Reed continued speaking in my ear pickup: “Effective immediately, you are promoted to full inspector general rank. But if you miss that shuttle, I’ll bust you down so low, they’ll have to invent new scut work to keep you busy.”
“I’m moving, Admiral.” I ran through the administrative ring of Farport, dodging around Admiralty staff as well as personnel from Space Corps and other branches of the Initiative.
“Good. Move faster. I need you to oversee the mess on the Aldrin, so you’ve got seven minutes to catch a rendezvous shuttle. If you miss it, the situation there could explode.”
Seven minutes? “Clear the passageway!” I shouted. Ahead, people turned, saw me pick up speed, and stepped out of my way. Soon I reached the access tunnel to the central shaft. An elevator tube ran up one half of the shaft, while a ladder went up the other. I looked at the elevator controls, but the car was up near the top of the shaft. I could climb faster than it could get down and back. I would smell pretty sweaty by the time I reached the shuttle, but it couldn’t be helped. I started up the ladder. Again I shouted, “Clear the shaft!” There were only four people climbing, and they looked down and got out of my way, clinging on to handholds near the ladder. As I climbed, the gravity lowered from a half G down toward zero.
Admiral Reed continued my instructions: “I had that new kid, Harrold, stop by the quartermaster and pick you up some spare uniforms and your new rank insignia. Plus dress uniform and off-duty gear. Sorry, you’ll be roughing it for a while, but you’re the only one from the IG who can make this rendezvous, and we can’t wait another seventeen months to handle this case.”
At last it was sinking in: I was going to Mars. “Sir, you’re assigning me the Aames case?” I was torn between pride that the admiral was trusting me with such a high-profile case and fear that I would screw it up.
“Yes, Park,” Reed answered. “You and Harrold and every investigator we have there. I’m clearing out the IG offices on Farport so you’ll have staff for this mission. A dozen clerks and investigators. Good people, but you’re the only one I can trust to run the thing. So you’re promoted, with immediate increase in pay, including hazardous duty pay and off-Earth bonus.”
I was making faster time as the gravity dropped. “Sir, I wasn’t worried about the money.”
“You’re going to earn it, Park. That madman Aames has finally knuckled down and surrendered to the Admiralty, and we’ve been ordered to prepare recommendations for a possible court martial. The Admiralty is pushing for charges of mutiny—”
“Mutiny?” It’s not smart to interrupt an admiral, but I couldn’t contain my surprise.
“Yes, against him and possibly his entire crew. But this whole thing stinks, Park. There’s more going on here than they’re telling us, I’m sure of it. If I had my way, I would be there personally to ferret out the truth. But orbital mechanics waits for no man, so it’s your chance in the hot seat. I’m counting on you, Inspector.”
I pushed into the central shaft. I was never comfortable in weightless environments, and I overcompensated and collided with the far wall. My left shoulder hit hard, and I bounced off. My eyes clouded with tears, and I bit back my pain as I grabbed a handhold. “Just myself and a staff of twelve, sir? To prepare cases against the entire crew?”
“Never mind the crew,” Reed answered. “Admiral Morais brokered Aames’s surrender, and Aames insisted as part of the terms that we hold off on any crew investigations until his own case is settled. Aames and his command crew can be charged, but no one else.”
“Sir, you taught me never to go into an investigation with my hands tied by some bureaucrat’s agreement.” I started pulling myself toward the docking end of the station, wincing when I tried to pull with my left arm. I would have to make the best time I could, using only my right.
“This is a special case, Park, special rules because we need the crew’s cooperation. Morais got the Admiralty to see that the Aldrin couldn’t get to Mars with her entire crew under arrest. Admiral Knapp said he had a replacement crew ready, but there was no way to get them to rendezvous in time. He’ll be there, along with his command crew and some troops. Also Admiral Morais and other likely witnesses. If you decide to empanel a court, Knapp wants enough officers to try the cases right then and there. But he won’t have a full replacement crew. So if you find any specific instance of malfeasance on the part of any crewmember, you pursue it. But for the specific crimes alleged here, you concentrate on Aames and his command crew. Your team can depose the crew, but I want you personally to handle any investigations and depositions of Aames and his officers.”
“Yes, Admiral.” I’m afraid I couldn’
t keep my doubts out of my voice.
“Don’t sound so put upon, Park. Your hands are anything but tied.” The admiral chuckled. “If you find cause, investigate anyone you have to. Not only that, I’m invoking Protocols, chapter 12, section 1.”
“Sir? Plenary power?”
“Yes. The Initiative Council, after some rushed but very intense debate, has agreed that the plenary power clauses apply in this case. It was a very close call, but I just got authorization two minutes before I called you. Then they almost revoked it when they realized that orbital mechanics meant I couldn’t be there to exercise the power myself. Downside dunderheads will never truly grasp how difficult it is to make rendezvous and insertion windows. But I told them you were the best IG in my entire command, and I convinced them you were fully capable of exercising plenary power responsibly. So don’t make me regret it, Park.”
“I won’t, sir.” I felt immensely proud that Reed had fought for me—and immensely terrified at the responsibility. “So I’m there as your agent, sir?”
“No, Inspector, you’re there to make the right decision. How many times have I told you that you can’t investigate by proxy? I only trust eyes on-site. Eyes that are far away can never see the entire picture, not even mine. You and your team will report to me, and I expect you to consult with me; but Park, on this mission, you are the Inspector General’s Office. You wield the plenary power.”
I swallowed. “I won’t let you down, sir.”
“I know you won’t, Park. But you’re going to be under immense pressure from all sides. And whatever you decide, there will be those who will fight you and try to discredit you. There’s never been a case like this before, and the ramifications run from here to Mars. You’ve just been thrust into a precedent-setting case, like it or not, so whatever you decide will be picked apart for years to come. I’ll defend you from that as much as I can, using every resource at my command, but you had better prepare yourself for it. You get it right, and you’ll go into the history books. You get it wrong, and your career is sunk. Probably mine too.” Then Reed’s tone softened, and I heard a little of his humor creep in. “There, see? The pressure has started already. But Park”—he turned serious again—“do not let it get to you. I expect you to do your job right, as you see it, and I don’t give a damn who tries to push you around. Until you issue your findings, you’re top dog on the Aldrin. Is that clear?”
The Last Dance Page 39
