"Beanbag round in the chamber," Jon ordered when she matched stride beside him. "Use your discretion if that can't handle it."
They could hear angry voices from the corridor even before going in. Margaret stopped and took a position just outside the entry, shotgun just out of view behind the door edge, trying not to inflame anyone with an appearance of escalation.
Fred Graham, who worked in a maintenance and housekeeping, was standing in front of the coffee machine, a pool of steaming coffee all around him. He was holding a pistol, but by the barrel, and Jon saw at a glance the man's own weapon was holstered. He was visibly angry, but all the noise was coming from Phil Donahue, who they called Cowboy. Phil worked for station storage and distribution. He was being held away from Fred by a small crowd. At least four of them literally had hands on him holding him back.
A couple more were attending a young man Jon thought was a shuttle crewman. He had on the sort of coverall some favored as a suit liner, but Jon didn't know his name. He was seated and had one leg up on another seat, a towel was wrapped around his leg with Ben Patsitsas applying pressure to a wound on his calf. There was blood on the floor, but not enough to make Jon worry he was bleeding out. The fellow looked more pissed off than in pain.
Phil was demanding his pistol back, and Fred was refusing. Jon went over to Fred first and held his hand out. Fred yielded the pistol to him without argument. He looked relieved actually. Jon already understood what this was all about. All the people holding Phil back released him and stood back, one actually walking away. None of them thought he'd try to take his pistol back from Jon, or if he did they'd just watch to see how spectacular his failure would be.
"So, Mr. Donahue, would you like to explain how you lost possession of your weapon?" Jon asked.
Phil looked rattled by Jon's formal manner of naming him. He hadn't called him anything but Cowboy for years. He was wearing one of his signature shirts today with the cape shoulders, scalloped pockets and pearl buttons that gave him his nick-name. The way Jon addressed him might have been the first clue penetrating his consciousness that he had a serious problem.
"It fell out of my holster when I got up and went off when it hit the floor," he admitted. "It was an accident," he added unnecessarily.
"Have you ever heard the expression, 'Third time's the charm'?" Jon asked.
Phil said nothing at first, wisely. He'd had two negligent discharges before, both in his apartment. One cleaning his weapon that simply damaged his own belongings, and another that penetrated the bulkhead into the adjoining cubic. Thankfully when that neighbor was absent working. But he didn't stay smart long, indignation setting his mouth working again pretty quickly.
"I'm sorry, I'll cover any damages, and I'll compensate the guy there, I don't know his name. But that doesn't give Fred the right to take my property and refuse to hand it back to me."
"We don't have a law to cover this," Jon acknowledged. "I'm pretty happy not having thousands and thousands of endlessly detailed laws. But I'm calling Mr. Muños and asking a vote for authority to handle this from the Assembly this evening. In the mean time, I will return your pistol."
"Margaret!" Jon called over his shoulder. "Trot down to the Chandlery and get me a roll of tamper-proof shipping tape. Wanda, could you get me a meal box for carryout please?" Both of them hurried to comply. A few of those standing there looked satisfied, understanding what he intended.
EMS came in while they waited and took pictures of the scene even though Jon was there, loaded the injured man on a gurney and took him away to the clinic on a powered cart, yellow hazard lights flashing, but no sort of siren in the confines of a public corridor. Ben sat back by his open computer, oblivious to the fact his own shirt was forever ruined from helping the injured man.
Jon unloaded and put Phil's gun in the carryout box, carefully wrapped two rows of tamperproof tape around the box crossing each other, and handed it to Phil.
"I have not been authorized to do this as Security Head," Jon told Cowboy, before he could object. "This is personal. If you remove that tape before we have a public hearing on the matter tonight you will personally answer to me, by meeting me in the north hub corridor in the morning, and I will put a bullet between your eyes for your disrespect," Jon told him, with no particular emotion evident.
Phil just nodded his acknowledgement. Jon had a reputation, and refusing to answer a challenge or resolve it would result in banishment from Home.
"If for some reason you decide you can't tolerate that, and I see you out in public before then wearing a weapon openly I'm just going to shoot you dead as a public hazard. I won't wait until the morning. Do I make myself clear?" Jon asked.
"Yes sir," Phil said, understanding a nod wasn't sufficient.
"Fine, I'll go consult with Mr. Muños, and regardless of my wishes and opinion you'll be at the mercy of the electorate to resolve this in the evening," Jon said.
Phil didn't look thrilled by that either.
Chapter 6
When the Tobiuo pulled up near the trawler the Coast Guard cutter had moved up on it, so they were only a kilometer away and closing fast. The trawler was close enough somebody at the rear of the open wheelhouse waved. Across the rear it said, West Shore. There was nothing much to say this late, they just watched the cutter coming, cutting back on power when neither of them fled.
"You there in the ketch, flying the Italian flag. This is the USNA Coast Guard cutter Mobile. Remain at a halt and prepare to be boarded," they called on the radio.
"We are in international waters and not under your national authority," Li replied on the radio. "What is your reason for wanting to board us?"
"We suspect you of having prohibited items," the cutter said.
"We are picking up passengers from the trawler. If you wish, examine them and their baggage they wish to send over. You can see them loaded to us and we'll leave," Li offered.
"They are launching an inflatable at the rear," his helmsman told Li.
"Tara," Li called to his number two officer, "handle the laser. If they try to point the deck cannon at us disable it. I don't trust them. They may have been ordered to disappear us. One shot from that will sink us and they have no reasonable need to threaten us with it, sitting dead in the water."
"Where should I aim?" Tara asked. The turret was one of those faceted designs made to reflect radar up into the sky instead of back towards a ship, probably a Bofors.
"Shoot once right through the middle of the turret. Then again down low near the deck. That should disable it, either from shooting or turning," Li hoped.
"We are launching a boarding party," the cutter informed him again on the radio. "Do not resist. Resistance will be met with lethal force. If you have weapons put them down now. Persons with weapons will be assumed to intend using them. Do not engage your engines or you will be fired on."
"Turret!" Li called, seeing the tube lift and start to traverse toward them. Tara fired while the word was still in his mouth. The beam itself from the laser was invisible at first, but a flare on the turret marked where it burned metal and composite away. The vapor in the beam made it look like the turret was projecting a hot narrow flame up at an angle, towards the top of their mast, then it cut through.
The laser beam could have destroyed either electronics or the motors and mechanism itself to keep the gun from aiming, as Li planned. However the cannon mounted two magazines of two hundred ten shells each. The beam found the left magazine as soon as it penetrated the turret armor. It directly ignited four rounds. The rest followed, aided by being enclosed.
Four hundred twenty 57mm shells with explosive projectiles make a big explosion. The turret over them helped direct the blast down through the deck. It didn't blow off in a piece, like the turret of a heavy tank might. It burst in pieces, but the ready magazine below failed to detonate, or the Tobiuo might not have survived that from so near. The blast didn't quite sever the bow, but it was a close thing. It left it bent up barely attached a
t the keel, and the force of the blast almost drove the foredeck completely under before it rebounded. The stealth cutter was already built low, close to the water. It looked more like a submarine on the surface than a conventional ship with an overhanging hull. The explosion did destroy the bridge, crushing the front of the superstructure, and stripping the radar and radio antennas off.
When the flash blobs started to clear from Li's vision the rear of the vessel was already tilted forward at about ten degrees, and the bow forward of where the turret had been was pitched up in front making a shallow vee. Li barely got to see the point of the bow sliding under the water. By the time he looked to the rear the screws were coming out of the water, and a couple hands on deck were jumping off the rising stern for the inflatable.
There was damage to the Tobiuo from flying debris. Li could see little pieces littering the deck, and there was a large twisted piece of metal embedded on the inside of the opposite rail.
Li stared open mouthed, shocked. That wasn't what he expected. Then his brain kicked back in.
"Cease fire Tara," He wasn't still shooting, but Li wanted to make sure he didn't start back up.
Li engaged their loud-hailer and called to the inflatable. "We can pick you up, and any other survivors, but not until you throw your weapons overboard," Li demanded.
The trawler, on the other side of the cutter, suddenly dipped and had foam at the rear, and started away the direction she was already pointed, to the north. The water was already rising around the front of the superstructure on the cutter it was going down so fast.
The flashes from the inflatable warned Li, and he threw himself to the deck, yelling, "Get down!"
The teak gunwale above him splintered from thirty caliber machinegun fire. Bullets pinged off the rigging, and there were frayed holes through the composite hull.
"They said it would be easy!" Li said, face pressed into the deck.
"Can I shoot?" Tara asked, panic in his voice, but disciplined enough to hold on his last orders.
"Hell yes! Shoot man, shoot!" One of the big main salon ports starred with fresh holes to underscore the urgency. Li couldn't see what was happening, because he wasn't going to stick his head up. When Tara finally called an all clear he went on all four to an undamaged section of the rail and levered himself up cautiously.
The cutter's stern was high in the air now, the back of the superstructure sliding into the water, frothing from escaping air. Of the inflatable nothing could be seen except some small pieces of equipment and some low bumps in the water that Li was afraid were bodies. The trawler had stopped about six hundred meters out and was slowly coming about.
Li kept hoping for somebody else to emerge and jump in the water, but the stern slid out of sight, the only sign of it now the floating debris, a circle of bubbles, and a sheen on the water.
"Tara, check and see if anybody is hurt. Then send somebody to inspect all along the waterline. We need to find and repair any holes there first, and then work upward with patches. Report any other damage you find," Lin said.
The trawler was returning slowly, there were quite a few people on deck doing something. "Gerald, see if she will respond to the throttle, and point us into the swell dead slow. See if you have someone free to hang fenders...We'd hate to mark her up," Li said, biting off a manic laugh. She was pretty dinged already...
"The diesel won't start," Gerald announced, " I'll try to find out why. Using the electric drive to get steerage."
The cook came on deck looking angry. "We had three holes below the water line. Those are rough plugged and the others will be covered in an hour. The cabin will take longer." Li was encouraged his crew took the initiative so quickly. His order hadn't had time to filter down. "We have three big ports in the main salon gone, and one of the lights. They shot the small refrigerator and wiped out a couple pans and a few cans of Spam. There are unsightly holes here and there in the cushions and such. But the bastards shot the big screen in the salon!"
Li nodded acknowledgement. He was more concerned about the diesel.
The fenders were in place now along their rear quarter. The trawler helmsman had obviously done this before. He put his bow about halfway down the length of the Tobiuo and steered away slightly as the flow between the hulls sucked them together. They touched gently enough there was no rebound.
The man with the line did not intend to tie them up. That was fine with Li, he wasn't keen on that anyway. He had a carabiner tied on a light line which he clipped on the equipment cases before he tossed them across. One of the fellows tossed the soft luggage across, and jumped after it. The hard shell cases were obviously too precious to take any chances of losing them, even in these mild seas and the trawler overhanging their rail slightly. It was only about a meter and a half drop, but the fellow who was already across grabbed the other as he landed, although he didn't seem to need help. That must be their scientist.
The second hard case came across, safety clipped again, and the fellow who seemed to be in charge sent the line back and waved them off. He handed the case to the fellow who had taken the first one below and worked his way back to Li, ignoring the soft luggage, assuming it would be tended to.
"Are you the master?" he asked of Li.
"Yes, I am. Welcome aboard. Take the first two cabins to starboard." Since he didn't offer a name neither did Li. "If there is anything you need ask any crew. If we have it they'll provide it. I'd appreciate it if you maintain a radio silence. If you need communications we can arrange it securely, and without advertising our location to the world."
"No sir, we have no wants. I'm Chen's man, but I have no orders to report to him short of making contact on Home. We'll eat with crew if you have no objection. I'll go make sure my charge is settled in and comfortable. Do you have any rules about where he or I can go?"
"You are welcome in the common areas. Storage and other cabins are off limits. I'd rather not have you on deck underway. If you want to come up in the cockpit you are welcome, but clip a safety line on, even in calm seas like today. You may speak with the helmsman if you wish, but if he finds it irritating or distracting he can dismiss you. He isn't a servant. There's a small galley off the main salon, if you want a snack between meals or late. But I'm afraid that on top of the other visible damage, the away team the cutter was launching shot up the small refrigerator there. I have no idea what survived or how big a mess it is inside."
"Cutter?" the agent said. He turned and scanned the horizon as if he'd overlooked it. "I guess I missed that," he said, perfectly straight faced.
"As you say," Li agreed. So that's how we play it, he thought. The ship did go down fast, and the explosion stripped the antennas off...Even if they had a hot satellite link running probably all their command saw was the signal dropping off. If there was even a satellite to link to. North America still hadn't replaced everything destroyed in the war. A lot of Earth nations had used the war as cover to remove each other's sats and blame Home. But he was sure somebody, somewhere, would know who to blame. Of course whether one agency would share that with another agency within their own government was another question.
The trawler cut power and slid back. When it slid off the last fender the helmsman skillfully ran the throttle full astern, pulling the bow back before it could swing into contact with their hull or props. It did swing in, sweeping past the edge of the stern, and as they rotated into the Tobiuo's slight wake he reversed his props and made a long sweeping turn across their stern. They straightened and took a course to the north west. Li had no idea where they were headed, and no desire to know.
Gerald swung to the west, north-west and brought it up to ten knots. Headed for their rendezvous.
The agent looked mildly alarmed as they had gained some distance from the noisy trawler.
"I don't hear or feel an engine running," he said. It wasn't a question, but Li took it for one.
"We're on electric. We have a diesel with a nice loud exhaust, and we try to run it from dock or
in a harbor. The uh, recent damage we sustained included that engine. I have yet to get a report on the exact problem. It's undoubtedly something expensive. We'll probably get some sail up in the morning. Everybody is busy patching holes and such, and they're going to be exhausted."
"I'm experienced," the fellow told him, "if you need somebody to lend a hand. If the weather changes you may need some sail up to give you steerage, once your batteries run down."
"Thank you, but we can run like this all night long," Li assured him. "Twice as fast as this if we need to really, but she doesn't like doing it."
The fellow looked puzzled. No way this boat could carry enough batteries to do that.
"It's a nuke boat," Li told him bluntly.
The man got a slow smile and almost laughed, but he read Li's face, and changed his mind. This was a hard core agent, who'd just been through a great deal, and he wasn't stupid.
"A nuke boat, and you damn near chopped a cutter in half with one shot," he said, and looked along the ship from the cockpit. Li observed this inspection without comment.
It looked every bit a normal sailing ketch to the agent. There was nothing to indicate special sensors or weapons ports. He had no idea how they'd dispatched the cutter. He'd seen no missile trail.
"It's a damn Q boat!" he declared, with sudden certainty. "You suckered the cutter."
"Cutter?" Li asked, putting his best innocent face on. He was just handing the fellow back a little of his own after all.
"Thank you, sir," the man said, which was no answer. He looked like he suppressed a salute and went to attend the scientist.
* * *
Jeff had the toy drone April ordered for him to tear apart and reverse engineer, and an extra because by some miracle all four worked. He'd figured out how to program it to return without managing it with his spex and was sitting playing catch with himself. He'd throw it at least four meters over into the kitchen space and it would fly back and cut power dropping just in front of him to be caught.
They Said It Would Be Easy (April Book 7) Page 8
