“From here it looks like they have already,” Powell interrupted.
“Then there isn't that much they can do to stop us. That ship is unarmed, and without our engineers, I don't think they're going anywhere any time soon. Quinn's teams were doing most of the intricate work. They just don't have the skilled technicians on board, not after so many years on the ground.”
“That's an interesting point,” Powell said. “What's the end game of all of this? What are the traitors after?”
“Ausori is an albatross around our necks,” Nelyubov said. “We're going to have to wait here to defend it, and that buys the Xandari time to assemble forces to wipe us out, and delays any potential return to our own space.” He nodded, warming to his topic, and continued, “The last thing they want is for us to form an alliance with the Collective, either. Being at war on two fronts will be difficult enough for them, worse if we're working together.”
Shaking his head, Powell replied, “I don't think there is any realistic possibility of our forming a significant alliance with the Collective, not if the leadership we have encountered is at all representative. In my opinion we'll have a hard enough time getting them to provide us with the intelligence they promised us.” Looking at Orlova, he continued, “Note that the man who promised to provide it to us has been unmasked as a traitor, and no one from Ausori has renewed their acceptance of that obligation.”
“Are you saying that we should demand payment for saving their lives?” Nelyubov asked, shaking his head.
“No,” Powell replied. “Captain, can I ask you a question?”
“Certainly.”
“Were you considering leaving Ausori at Testament Station, and making our own way back home from there? Perhaps offering sanctuary to any of the Neander who would rather return to the Confederation than back to their own people?”
“Yes,” she replied, turning to Nelyubov. “I hadn't said anything, Frank, because at present it was just an idea, and I was going to wait for Daedalus to report on conditions out there first. However, I think I would likely have ended up taking that option.”
“Precisely. Going to the Collective represents a risk that might not be worth taking. Coming back out here with a task force might change the picture considerably, allow us to negotiate with their leadership from a position of strength.”
“And your assessment is that the traitors have worked that out?” Orlova asked.
“They're certainly doing everything they can to make that outcome a reality, in my opinion. Which returns me to my previous point. What is the goal of the traitors in all of this? If it was as simple as turning us over to the Xandari, then they had opportunities to prevent us escaping the system in the first place.”
“Attempts were made to slow our progress,” Nelyubov reminded them. “Maybe this is Plan B.”
“Potentially, or maybe there is a different game going on than we've realized. All I'm trying to say, Captain, is that this is a lot less simple than it looks.” He shook his head, and continued, “Working on the assumption that we're going to be rescuing our people, one way or another, we have to work out where things move from there. You may have no choice but to choose a side.”
“And if we pick the wrong side, we may find ourselves at war with the Collective.”
“At this stage I'm forced to consider that a realistic possibility, though given their current strategic position, I doubt they would represent much of a threat,” Powell replied.
Rising to her feet, Orlova said, “Frank, get the troops ready for an assault, and to hell with the subtlety. Non-lethal weapons only, and I want them to consider the probability that there will be imposter troops in position. Maybe we can capture a few of them. John, I want you to go over the evidence and look for any flaws you can find. Put together a potential case for the defense, in case we need it.”
“Aye, ma'am,” they replied.
“I want to make it clear that we will not move until Corporal Walpis has reported back, but I want to be ready for anything if the situation changes.” Looking around, she added “That's all,” and the others stood up, saluted, and walked out of the room, leaving her alone. She looked out at the starfield, watching as the Neander vessel drifted into view, almost close enough for her to touch. Thousands of civilians over there, helpless against attack, and the only defense they had was her ship. She couldn't abandon them to their fate, not and ever sleep at night again, but that didn't mean she was going to let the traitors win. One way or another, she was going to stop them. Somehow.
Chapter 12
Harper walked down the street, allowing herself to be directed by the assigned guide, only a part of her listening to the endless prattle she was being told about the ancient heritage of Testament Station, while most of her attention remained on the enormity of the station itself. When she'd been told it was only a short walk to the Conference Center, she had assumed they meant a few meters, not a mile. Her feet ached, and she made a mental note to write a letter of complaint to the designer of the dress uniform once they got back. To be fair, no one had ever considered they might been needed for any long walks, but that was no excuse.
Behind her, Maqua openly gawped at the view, and she couldn't blame him. The station was impressive, even without the semi-automatic advertisement the guide was providing. There was certainly nothing like it in Triplanetary space, but from what she could tell of the current state of the maintenance, it wouldn't be here for much longer. There was a time-honored rule about a station or an outpost lasting for only three generations before it fell to pieces, and Testament Station was proving the proof of that. The builders had designed it to last, and it had, for centuries, but the current owners were visibly running it into the ground.
Not that there was anything they could do about it. The Triplanetary Corps of Engineers as one collective body would be insufficient for the task. An overhaul would be a project lasting years, maybe decades, and a smaller station could probably do the same job far more easily and efficiently. Nevertheless, when the station finally died, it would be a great shame.
“Here we are,” the guide said, pointing at a tall tower, more than two hundred meters high, soaring far above the other buildings. “Biggest building on the station, as well as the oldest. Since she first went on-line, the Control Cabinet has occupied this facility, for more than a thousand years of constant use.”
“Thank you,” Harper said, stepping over to where Quaice was waiting for them, resplendent in a long crimson cloak that had been carefully crafted to match the color of his eyes, a wide-brimmed hat perched on his head to shelter him from the light. His ubiquitous aide stood next to him, holding his datapad, and two other figures stepped out of the building as she watched, another albino and a Neander, both wearing almost identical formal suits. She looked down at her dress uniform, feeling out of place.
“This is Lieutenant Kristen Harper, commander of the Triplanetary Starship Daedalus,” the Minister said, turning to the others. “The President of Alpha-Prime, Kilquan,” he said, indicating the albino, and the Staff Manager of Solar-Plus, Skeuros.”
“A pleasure,” Kilquan said. “I see you've brought your servant with you?” Skeuros looked at his rival with a snarl, then across at Harper with eyes filled with cold fire.
“Midshipman Maqua is my aide,” she replied. “An officer in the Triplanetary Fleet.”
Immediately, Skeuros' expression softened, and he said, “I didn't know the Triplanetary Confederation was a multi-species alliance. Are there many Neander in your fleet?”
“A few,” she replied. “Our contact with your people was recent, within this decade, but there are already several serving in various capacities, and more in training. We don't discriminate based on origin.” She looked at Kilquan, who shook his head.
“Certainly an intriguing idea. Shall we dine? My time is valuable.”
“And mine isn't?” Skeu
ros replied.
“According to latest estimation of our two companies' worth, I would say not.”
“Gentlemen,” Quaice said. “Let us not devolve into needless argument at this stage of the proceedings. These are our guests, and I request that you comport yourselves accordingly.” He turned back to the steps, climbing up to the entrance, and said, “I have arranged for our meal to be prepared in the roof garden. I always find the view a perfect complement to a fine lunch.”
Harper followed him, Maqua in tow, and after a brief exchange of stares, the two businessmen came after them. Through the double doors was a large foyer, filled with formally-dressed individuals, mostly either albino or Neander. Such humans as were present seemed to be in inferior roles, as assistants or servants, rather than the decision-makers. She glanced back at Maqua, grateful that she had brought him along for the ride. The experience would do him good, and by the looks of it, having a Neander as an assistant would provide her with additional status.
The elevator was crowded with the six of them on-board, rapidly rising through the levels to the top. Aside from sharing glances, the two businessmen remained quiet, Quaice mumbling something to Xydic, who obediently noted the words down in a language Harper couldn't read. With a loud chime, the doors rolled open, and they stepped out into a luxurious flower-filled garden, the trickling of a fountain in the background. All around, they could see the station, the rich green fields reaching towards the soft, cool blue lake beyond.
“Those ruined areas,” Maqua said, gesturing at one of the brown patches. “Is there something wrong with them?”
Xydic looked at Quaice, who replied, “Simply areas that we have deemed it unnecessary to maintain. We have more than enough space for our current population as it is, and those areas aren't worth the cost of repair.”
“What happened there?” Harper asked.
“I don't think that need concern us at the moment,” Quaice replied curtly, gesturing them over to a table laden with delicacies. Harper's plate was obvious, and rather disappointing, mostly consisting of old United Nations rations that had been decorated with salad. Maqua had a far more impressive array of food on his plate, and looked up with a smile.
“Can we work while we eat?” Kilquan said, dropping down next to Quaice. “I think we can come right to the point. My company is the only one capable of providing you with the fuel you need, and...”
“What?” Skeuros replied, sending fragments of lettuce showing across the table. “I have tankers too, remember. I'm more than capable of fulfilling your order.”
Looking between the two of them with an exasperated frown on his face, Quaice said, “I invited the leaders of the only two businesses that are capable of satisfying your needs, Lieutenant. I must say that I was surprised of the scope of the order in question. How many ships are you needing to supply?”
“Two,” she replied, “but there's more to it than that. My commander wants to establish a supply depot for extended operations in this area. We're expecting more ships in the near future, and they're going to need to refuel as soon as they arrive.” Her cover story had been very carefully prepared, to the extent of forged operations orders waiting on her datapad, with a good imitation of Commodore Marshall's signature attached.
“More ships, then,” Skeuros said. “Sounds like you're building up quite a sizable presence out here. You're fighting the Xandari, aren't you?”
Glancing at Maqua, Harper nodded, and said, “We are aware of their existence, and we have fought a few battles with them in the past.” Sighing, she added, “I wasn't going to bring that up here, but I anticipate that a state of war will exist between the Confederation and the Xandari Empire in a matter of months. Our mission is more reconnaissance than exploration.”
“And you decided not to tell us this for what reason?” Kilquan asked.
“Hell, she'd expect you to ramp the prices up,” Skeuros answered. “More, I know the local peace-lovers would hate the idea of a nasty little war making a mess. For myself, I'll be glad to see those smug bastards smashed out of existence.”
“Then you'll still tender?” Harper asked.
“Damn right, and you can bet that I'll win.” He looked across at Kilquan, and added, “My crews aren't strangers to fighting, and we've dealt with combat situations before.”
“Certainly they are,” Kilquan replied. “The pirates and looters you count among your crews have had ample experience in warfare, usually against my own people. I promise that you will find them far tougher prey in future.” Turning to Harper, he continued, “We would be willing to tender on this basis, Lieutenant, though there would be certain conditions mandated in any contract that we would sign.”
“Are you calling me a thief?” the Neander asked.
“I didn't think you considered it much of a secret. Your people have been scavenging at the fringes of our space for years.” Pursing his lips, the albino added, “Have you considered the possibility of a wider-ranging trade pact?”
Skeuros barked with laughter, and said, “What he means is that he'll give you good terms if you agree to route all future trade with his people through him, no doubt with a sizable profit for his company.”
“And your motives are, of course, so very pure,” his rival replied.
“No, but at least I'm honest. You've got a fleet coming in, Lieutenant, and I'm more than happy to supply any ships you want to bring in. On the condition that I get an exclusive contract for, shall we say, five years.” Turning to Kilquan, he added, “I think that should be enough to finish you for good.”
“Gentlemen,” Quaice said, “Can we not come to some understanding?”
“Indeed,” Xydic added, “If my information is accurate, both of you will struggle to satisfy this first shipment with your current stocks. Between you, however, matters would be different.”
“I will not, will never, make an agreement that includes this pirate,” Kilquan said. “I am happy to deal with the Confederation, Lieutenant, more than happy, and I can provide you with information about this area of space that you will find most useful.”
“Information is only as useful as your ability to exploit it,” Skeuros said. “My people can give you protection, guard your convoys, leave your ships free for the battles against the Xandari. From my experience, that's going to require all the firepower at your disposal, and more besides. You won't find them easy to defeat.”
“And if they lose, your people are in a position to strip their convoys bare for their own profit, then slink back to that shambolic collection of asteroids you call home.”
Harper sighed, and said, “I didn't come here to listen to this collection of invective. If you have specific questions about our needs, I'm happy to answer them, but other than that, I would simply appreciate your tender. For this single, specific contract, though I will grant that it might well lead to others.” She looked at the two businessmen, and added, “I have no authority to grant any of the concessions you are asking for, and frankly, some of the terms would have to be relayed to the President. We don't have that kind of time.”
“How long have you got?” Skeuros asked.
“I want to leave the system in forty-nine hours, local time.”
The Neander's eyes opened wide, and he took a deep swig of his wine before replying, “For once I agree with you, Xydic.”
“Such a request is unrealistic,” Kilquan added. “We have other orders to fulfill, and I cannot in all good conscience leave established customers short of fuel for such a tentative arrangement. Not without some commitment to future shipments, in any case.”
“Another possibility suggests itself,” Xydic said. “This station is more than capable of providing protection to any ships stationed here. Why not make this your operational headquarters, at least for your reconnaissance.”
“Come on, Xydic,” Quaice said. “You know the Cabinet would n
ever consider this station being used as the headquarters for a war. The Collective tried that, and we had to expel their representatives.”
“At this time, are we talking about war?” the aide replied. “Lieutenant Harper wishes to refuel her ships, and to use them to scout out the local area. Likely our businesses would be more than happy with the additional trade that such a large expedition could provide, and your commanding officer would be able to negotiate commercial deals with greater leisure.”
Shaking her head, Harper replied, “That isn't an option.”
“May I ask why?”
“I am not authorized to pass on such information.”
Leaning forward, Skeuros said, “You've had an accident, haven't you. Main ship out of fuel, enough to send you out to scavenge some from wherever you can.” There was an eager gleam in his eye as he continued, “That's the answer. Or perhaps you've found something, captured an enemy ship you want to get home, something large enough that you don't have the ability to fuel it up.”
“If that is the case,” Kilquan replied, “Then perhaps we could do business after all. For a share in the salvage rights, or equal access to any information that you have gathered. Knowledge is valuable, and I'd risk a tanker for that.”
“My commanding officer,” Harper said, “has instructed me to obtain fuel, and transport it to a location one jump from here. She doesn't wish to commit us to the security of this station, not without knowing a lot more about the current situation. Can you blame her for that?”
“Not at all,” Quaice said. “Moreover, such a move would require the permission of the Cabinet, and I do not share my aide's optimism.” Shaking his head, he said, “Given the security implications, I myself would vote against such a move.”
Glaring at him, Kilquan replied, “I think you would change your mind, and I suspect that others in the Cabinet could be induced to support such an action. Lieutenant, I can give you my personal assurance that your fleet will be welcome here.”
Battlecruiser Alamo: Final Testament Page 11
