by David Weber
Yuri stared at Cachat, wondering if the SI's own thoughts were running on parallel lines. They . . .
Might be. Cachat might not be an experienced naval officer. But Radamacher was quite certain that the young man had studied naval affairs just as thoroughly and relentlessly as he did everything else. If so, he'd understand perfectly well that a single superdreadnought attached to a flotilla the size of Admiral Chin's would be outmatched in the event of—ah, "internal hostilities." Especially since—Jesus, is he possibly this Machiavellian?—Cachat had also seen to it that the internal security squads for both superdreadnoughts were now composed of Marines and StateSec troops who got along well with Marines.
While . . .
Jesus Christ. He is that Machiavellian. Now that I think about it, by transferring all the worst elements from the SDs over to the task force, he's split them up and scattered them over three dozen different ships. With no way to communicate with each other, and . . . surrounded by Navy and Marine ratings who'd hammer them into a pulp cheerfully—or shoot them dead—if Chin or Cachat gave the order.
Which leaves . . .
He couldn't help it. A little groan forced its way through Yuri's lips.
Cachat frowned. "What's this, Citizen Assistant Special Investigator Radamacher? Surely you're not objecting to a new assignment? You just got through assuring me your health had recovered sufficiently."
"Yes. But—"
His mind raced wildly. Cachat was a lunatic. Lunatic, lunatic, lunatic!
Yuri took a deep breath and tried to settle down. "Let me see if I understand you properly, Citizen Special Investigator. You're relieving me from my duties as a commissioner in order to serve as your assistant. And since I assume you will be accompanying the task force in its mission—"
"That's essential." Cachat snapped the words. "I must oversee the operation of this entire combined StateSec and Naval force. In action, which is where it belongs. If nothing else, I intend to make sure that this important unit of the People's Republic is doing its duties properly and according to regulations. Which I can't possibly accomplish while everybody is lolling about in orbit twiddling their thumbs. There is no Manticoran threat to La Martine posed in the near future beyond commerce-raiding, so leaving a single SD on station in the capital should be more than sufficient to maintain order here."
He bestowed two piercing dark eyes upon Yuri. "The more so if the investigation on the Hector Van Dragen is concluded in my absence by a capable subordinate. You do have an excellent service record, Citizen StateSec Officer Radamacher. Now that any questions concerning your loyalty or possible involvement in the Jamka affair are resolved, I see no reason you can't accomplish the task quite successfully."
Cachat shrugged, as if moderately embarrassed to say the next words. "I dare say I've already rooted out the worst of the corruption and slackness aboard this ship. So all that really remains for you to do is oversee Citizen Captain Gallanti—"
She's going to love THAT! Yuri quailed a bit at the thought of Gallanti's temper.
"—and rigorously pursue whatever remaining traces of corruption and slackness you might uncover. To that end, I'll be leaving you the best of the new security units I've managed to put together. The best StateSec security teams—most of them from the task force, naturally, since the rot had festered too long here on the SDs—along with Citizen Major Lafitte and his Marines. I should think that would be sufficient."
That'll mean Ned Pierce will still be around. Thank God for that. I'll need his shoulder to cry on.
There didn't seem anything he could say. So, he simply nodded his head.
"Good." Cachat turned to leave, his hand on the door latch. Citizen Commissioner Justice began to follow, but not before giving Yuri a quick smile. Almost a shy smile, somehow, which was odd. Sharon Justice was normally a very self-assured woman.
The smile, even on lips still puffy from her beating, made Yuri's heart lift. Even more, the warmth in her brown eyes.
A sudden realization jolted him.
"Ah—Citizen Special Investigator?"
Cachat turned back around. "Yes?"
Radamacher cleared his throat. "I simply wanted to make sure my understanding of regulations is clear. As an assistant now attached to your office, I believe I am no longer in the task force's chain of command. Is that correct?"
"Of course," replied Cachat curtly. "How could it be otherwise? You report to me, and I report to State Security HQ in Nouveau Paris. How could we possibly be responsible to the same chain of command we're investigating?" Impatiently: "An officer of your experience simply can't be that ignorant of basic—"
He broke off. Then, glanced quickly at Sharon Justice. Then—
Yuri couldn't quite believe it, but . . . Cachat was actually blushing. For a moment, the young man looked like a schoolboy.
The moment didn't last long. Abruptly, as if summoned, the fanatic-face shield closed down. Cachat's next words were spoken in a very impatient tone of voice.
"If this involves a personal matter, Citizen Assistant Investigator Radamacher, it is no concern of mine so long as no regulations are broken."
He seemed to grope; the first time Yuri had ever seen the SI at a loss for words. Then, concluded in a half-mumble:
"I have pressing business. Citizen Commissioner Justice, the task force will be leaving orbit very shortly. I'll expect you to report for duty on time. Say, an hour from now."
He opened the door—flung it open, more like—slipped through, and was gone. Closing it firmly behind him.
Yuri stared at Sharon. Her smile now seemed as shy as a schoolgirl's herself. He suspected his own did likewise.
What to say? How to say it? After three years of scrupulously never crossing the line.
And in an hour?! A lousy HOUR?! Cachat, you bastard!
Sharon broke the impasse. The shy smile dissolved into a throaty chuckle, and all her normal self-assurance seemed to return.
"What a mess, eh, Yuri? We're both way too old—too dignified, too, especially you—to just hop into bed." She eyed the cabin's narrow bed skeptically. "Leaving aside the fact that neither of us have our youthful slender figures left. We'd probably fall off halfway through—and I don't know about you, but I'm still way too bruised to want another set just yet."
"I think you look gorgeous," Yuri stated firmly. Well. Croaked firmly.
Sharon grinned and took him by the hand. "An hour's only an hour, so let's use it wisely. Let's talk, Yuri. Just talk. I think we both need it desperately."
They didn't just talk. Before the hour was up, there'd been a clinch or three tossed into the mix—and a very passionate goodbye kiss when it finally came time for Sharon to leave, bruised lips or not. But, mostly, they talked. Yuri never remembered much of the conversation afterward, although he always swore it was the most scintillating conversation he'd ever had in his life.
What was most important, though, was that after Sharon left and Yuri took stock of his situation, he realized that for the first time in years he felt just great. And, being by nature a cautious man but not a coward, was also sensible enough to ride that feeling out into the corridors and through the labyrinth of the SD's passages and into Citizen Captain Gallanti's office.
Even a newly enlarged and promoted mouse setting out to bell a cat has enough sense to do it with the wind in his sails.
7
Gallanti was not thrilled to see him.
"For God's sake!" she snarled, as soon as he was ushered into the stateroom she used for her command quarters when not on the bridge. "The maniac hasn't even left orbit yet and you're already here to give me grief?"
"There is no God," Radamacher informed her serenely. "Mention of the term is expressly forbidden in StateSec regulations."
That brought her up short. Her eyes rolled and Yuri could sense the woman's notorious temper rising. But he'd already gauged his tactics before entering the room, and knew what to do.
"Oh, relax, would you?" Radamacher gave
her a wry smile—he had a superb wry smile; people had told him so over the years hundreds of times—and eased his way into an armchair. "For God's sake, Citizen Captain Gallanti, just once can you assume we're adults instead of kids in a schoolyard? I didn't come here to play dominance games with you."
That threw her off her stride, as he'd suspected it would. Gallanti stared at him, her mouth half-open. The stocky blonde's heavy brow was frowning more in puzzlement now than anger.
Yuri pressed the advantage. "Look, as you said: The maniac hasn't even left orbit yet. So let's take advantage of all the time we've got to get everything straightened up before he comes back. If we work together, we can see to it that by the time he returns—that'll be at least six weeks, more likely eight—not even that fanatic can find anything wrong any more. He'll blow on his way and we'll have seen the last of him."
Gallanti was as notorious for her suspiciousness as her temper. Her eyes narrowed. "Why are you being so friendly, all of sudden?"
He spread his hands. "When have I ever not been friendly? It's not my fault you don't know me. I couldn't very well invite myself over to your staff dinners, could I?" He left unspoken the rest of it. Although you could have, Exalted SD Captain—if you hadn't been such a complete snot toward every officer in the task force since you arrived on station.
Gallanti's heavy jaws tightened. That was embarrassment, at first. But, like anyone with her temperament, Gallanti was not fond of self-doubt, much less self-criticism. So, within seconds, the embarrassment began transforming into anger.
Yuri cut it off before it built up any steam. "Let it go, will you? If you think you can't stand the maniac, try getting a beating at his hands." He fingered his still somewhat swollen jaw, opening his mouth to let her see the missing front teeth. He'd already begun regeneration treatment, but the gap was still obvious. And Yuri had rebandaged his nose before leaving his cabin, taking care to make the dressings as bulky as possible.
That did the trick. Gallanti managed a half-smile of tepid sympathy; then, flopped into the chair behind her desk.
"Isn't he something else? Where in creation did the Citizen Chairman dredge him up from? The Ninth Circle of Hell?"
"I believe that's the circle reserved for traitors," Radamacher said mildly, "which I'm afraid is the one fault you can't find in the man. Not without being laughed out of court, anyway. It's been a while since I read Dante, but if I recall correctly, intemperate zealots were assigned to a different level."
Gallanti glared at him. "Who's Dante?" Without waiting for an answer, she transferred the glare to her desktop display.
"As soon as I'm certain that bastard's into hyper-space, I'm sending off a purely blistering set of dispatches by courier ship. I can promise you that! Vesey is doing the same." Half-spitting: "We'll see what's what after they find out on Haven what the maniac's been up to!"
Radamacher cleared his throat delicately. "I would remind you of two things, Citizen Captain Gallanti. The first is that it will be at least six weeks before we can expect any answer, travel times being what they are between La Martine and the capital. I'd guess more like two months. StateSec is going to study all the dispatches carefully before they send back any reply."
She was still glaring at him. But, after a couple of seconds, even Gallanti seemed to realize that glaring at a man for simply stating well-known astrophysical facts was foolish. Grudgingly, she nodded. Then, summoning up her still-moldering anger and resentment, spat out: "And what's the second thing?"
Yuri shrugged. "I'm afraid I don't share your confidence that Nouveau Paris will be very sympathetic to our complaints."
That was a nice touch, he thought. In point of fact, Yuri Radamacher's name did not and would not appear on a single one of those "blistering dispatches." But, as he'd expected, a woman of Gallanti's mindset was always prepared to assume that everyone around her except lunatics would agree with her. So she took his casual mention of "our" complaints for good coin. That helped defuse her anger at his questioning of her judgement.
"Why not?" she demanded. "He had almost a dozen StateSec officers shot—"
"The figure is actually seven," Yuri countered mildly, "the rest were StateSec security ratings. Muscle, to put it crudely. And every single one of them was guilty—there's no doubt about this, Citizen Captain, don't think there is—of the most grotesque crimes and violations of StateSec regulations. You know as well as I do that Nouveau Paris will stamp 'fully approved' on each and every one of those summary executions."
Again, he cleared his throat delicately. "You'd do well not to forget that the Special Investigator is also—has also, I should say—sent dispatches of his own. I happen to know—never mind how—that those dispatches included a large sampling of the pornographic record chips found in the personal quarters of Jamka and his confederates. I don't know if you've seen any of those records, Citizen Captain, but I have—and I can assure you that the impact they will have on StateSec at the capital is not—not not not—going to be: 'why did Cachat blow their brains out?' The question is going to be of quite a different variety. 'Why was none of this reported prior to Cachat's arrival—especially by the commanding officers of the superdreadnoughts where the criminal activity was centered?'"
Finally, something seem to penetrate Gallanti's armor of self-righteousness. Her face paled a little. "I wasn't—damnation, it was none of my affair! I command an SD, I'm not assigned to the task force! Jamka was a people's commissioner—assigned to the task force—not someone under my command."
Try as she might, the words lacked force. Radamacher shrugged again.
"Citizen Captain Gallanti—do you mind if I call you Jillian, by the way, while we're speaking privately?"
Gallanti hesitated. Then, nodded her head brusquely. "Sure, go ahead. As long as it's private. Ah—Yuri, isn't it?"
Radamacher nodded. "Jillian, then. Look, let's face facts. We've all got our excuses, and you and I both know they aren't flimsy ones—not, at least, if you're willing to live in the real world instead of Cachat's fantasy one. But . . ."
He let the word fall into silence. Then:
"Face it, Jillian. Real world excuses always come up short against fantasy accusations whenever the fantasist can point to real crimes. So let's not kid ourselves. Cachat's rampage is going to go down very well in Nouveau Paris, don't think it won't." In a slightly cynical tone of voice: "Out of idle curiosity, I once did a textual analysis of several of our Citizen Chairman's occasional speeches to StateSec cadre assemblies. Back when he was still Director of State Security. Outside of common articles like 'a' and 'the,' do you know which word appears the most often?"
Gallanti swallowed.
"The word was rigor, Jillian. Or rigorous. So tell me again, just how sympathetic our boss is going to be when he hears us whining that the fanatic Victor Cachat was too rigorous in his punishment of deviants using StateSec rank to cover their misdeeds."
Now, Gallanti looked like she was choking on something. Yuri segued smoothly into the opening of what he thought of as "the deal." Prefacing it by sitting up straight and sliding forward in his chair. Nothing histrionic, just . . . the subtle body language of a man suggesting a harmless—nay, salutary and beneficial—conspiracy. Say better: private understanding.
"We'll have a lot more luck with what I'm sure you raised in the way of your other complaints. It is outrageous, the way Cachat's been swapping personnel around. You can be damn sure Nouveau Paris is going to look cross-eyed at the way he's been using the Marines."
"They certainly will! 'Cross-eyed' is putting it mildly! They'll have a fit!"
Yuri waggled a hand. "Um . . . yes and no. Cachat's a sharp bastard, Jillian, don't make the mistake of underestimating him. Fanatics aren't necessarily stupid. Don't forget that he was always careful to assign an equal number of hand-picked StateSec guards to serve alongside the Marines."
Yuri saw no reason to mention that the Marines themselves, in effect, had done the handpicking. He pressed on
:
"Yes, Cachat bent regulations into a pretzel. But he didn't outright break them—no, he didn't, I checked—and he'll still have the excuse that he faced extraordinarily difficult circumstances because Jamka had corrupted the normal disciplinary staff. Unfortunately, five out of the seven executed officers—and all four of the ratings—belonged to the SDs' police details. He'll claim he had no choice—and the claim isn't really all that flimsy. Not from the distance of Nouveau Paris, anyway."
Gallanti fell into gloomy silence, slumping in her chair. Then, in a half-snarl: "The whole thing's absurd. The one thing the stinkbug was supposed to do is the one thing he didn't! We still have no idea who murdered Jamka. Somehow that 'little detail' has gotten lost in the shuffle."
Yuri chuckled drily. "Ironic, isn't it? And after Cachat's rampage, we'll never know. But so what? I assume you saw the medical examiner's report, yes?"
Gallanti nodded. Yuri grimaced. "Pretty grisly business, wasn't it? No quick killing, there. Whoever did Jamka was as sadistic about it as Jamka himself. From looking at the holopics of his corpse, I'd almost be tempted to say Jamka committed suicide. Except there's no possible way he could have shoved—"
Yuri shuddered a little. "Ah, never mind, it's sickening. But the point is—you know, I know, anyone with half a brain knows—that Jamka was certainly murdered by one of his own coterie. A falling out between thieves, as it were. So when you get right down to it, who really cares any more who killed Jamka? Cachat shot the whole lot of them, and there's an end to it. Good riddance. You really think Oscar Saint-Just is going to toss in his bed worrying about it?"
Glumly, the SD captain shook her head. Even more glumly, and in a very low voice, she said: "This is going to wreck my career. I know it is, damn it. And—" Her innate self-righteousness and resentfulness began to surface again. "It's not my fault. I had nothing to do with it! If that fucking Cachat hadn't—"
"Jillian! Please." That cut her short. Yuri hurried onward. "Please. There's no point to this. My own career's on the rocks too, you know. Even when you're found 'innocent,' having an official 'rigorous interrogation' on your record is a big black mark. Worse than any on your record, when you get right down to it."
