Conquerors 1 - Conquerors' Pride

by Timothy Zahn

  "He's with the Peacekeepers?"

  "No, he's a civilian," Takara shook his head. "Working directly out of - " He looked sharply at Holloway. "Out of the NorCoord Parliament."

  Holloway nodded sourly. "The same NorCoord Parliament our friend Lord Stewart Cavanagh served three terms in. Any bets on this being just some wild coincidence?"

  "Not from me," Takara said. "You know, Cass, we really don't have time for this."

  "Agreed. Unfortunately, we can't afford to ignore it, either."

  "So what do we do?"

  Holloway rubbed at his cheek. All right. Quinn and the Cavanaghs had a tanker and Counterpunch on the ground, with six Corvines on their way in. Highly visible, the whole bunch of them. Which meant that whatever sleight of hand was in the works, the silent backup would likely be the keystone to it. "We split them up," he said. "You were planning to take a survey team out to Site B soon, weren't you?"

  "I could head out anytime," Takara nodded. "You want me to take one of them along and keep him there for a couple of hours?"

  "You got it," Holloway said. "Make it McPhee - the others should be easier to keep track of."

  "What if he refuses to go?"

  Holloway cocked an eyebrow. "How can he? He's here to assist in preparations for an incoming supply shipment, isn't he? Well, then, he needs to see what we're doing at Site B."

  "Of course," Takara said dryly. "Silly of me."

  Holloway looked at the tachyon pickup. "Just be careful," he said quietly. "We don't know what they're up to or what stakes they're playing for. It could get messy."

  "Don't worry," Takara promised. "We're Peacekeepers, remember? We'll take care of him."

  With one final push the last of the ration boxes finally cleared the inner lip of the storage-compartment hatch. Trying to hold everything in place at once with one hand, Aric eased the rolling cover down across the compartment with the other. He held his breath; but this time, to his relief, the latch clicked shut without jamming. "I'm finished here," he called. "You need any help?"

  "No," Quinn's voice drifted in from somewhere in one of the fueler's other rooms. "I should be done in a minute, and Max can handle the check-through on his own. Why don't you go see how Dr. Cavanagh is doing."

  "Right," Aric grunted as he began working his way backward out of the galley storage alcove. Melinda had been right: stuff twelve more people in this fueler, and it was going to be real cozy. He could only hope that getting the fueler into zero-gee would make all these cramped spaces feel larger.

  Melinda was waiting on the ground by the time he reached the base of the fueler. "How's it going?" she asked.

  "It's all in," he told her. "And contrary to my original expectations, it all fits. You?"

  She nodded. "All the external compartments are loaded, and I've got the last fuel canister going in now. How's Quinn doing?"

  "Sounded like he was about finished loading the backup cells," Aric said. "All we'll have to do then is have Max fire up the electronics and make sure everything works. And we'll be ready to go." He looked up at the canvac barrier still shrouding one side of the fueler. "You check the paint job lately?"

  "About ten minutes ago. Still feels a little sticky."

  Awkward, but hardly surprising. They'd expected to be doing all this lettering and insignia work in orbit, and paints formulated for vacuum couldn't be expected to perform well in atmosphere. "Well, chances are we've still got a few hours before Dad and the Corvines show up. Maybe it'll be dry enough by then to get through the atmosphere without streaking."

  "I hope so," Melinda said, looking up at the fueler. "Personally, I think the sooner you get out of here, the better. I get the feeling that Colonel Holloway is still flipping a coin as to whether to simply ground the project and haul the three of us in for questioning."

  A motion across the parking field caught Aric's eye: a military groundcar had emerged from between two of the warehouses and was heading their way. "Looks like he may have finished his toss," he said, stepping to the intercom beside the base of the lift-cage track. "Quinn? We've got company. Peacekeeper car on its way."

  There was a moment of silence. "How many men in it?"

  Aric squinted. "Four, including the driver. Looks like Colonel Holloway's one of them."

  "I'll be down in a couple of minutes," Quinn said. "Play it by ear until I get there. Just remember that as far as they know, we're completely legitimate."

  "Right," Aric said, taking a deep breath. Like any other trade negotiation, he told himself firmly. That's all it was. Just a normal trade negotiation, with exceptionally high stakes.

  The car pulled to a halt beside them. "Good afternoon," Holloway said as he and two of the other men got out. "How's the loading going?"

  "We're just about finished," Aric told him, giving Holloway's two companions a surreptitious once-over. Big, competent-looking men, with Peacekeeper Marine insignia on their collars and big, no-nonsense handguns in quick-draw holsters at their sides. "Just need to finish transferring our fuel and run an electronics-and-sensor test and we'll be ready to go."

  "After the rest of your fighters get here, of course," Holloway said, looking up at the canvac barrier. "I take it you've finished your welding?"

  "We weren't doing any welding," Aric said, something in Holloway's tone warning him not to simply concur with the other's statement.

  "Didn't think it smelled like sealant primer," Holloway agreed calmly. "What were you doing?"

  "There was some minor damage to one of the airfoil surfaces," Aric told him. "We replaced it and then repainted around it."

  "I see," Holloway said, his face not giving away whether he bought that or not. "I wonder if I might speak with Commander Quinn."

  "He's up in the snip," Aric told him. "He should be down in a few minutes."

  "I'd appreciate it if you'd ask him to come down now," Holloway said.

  Courteous phrasing, polite tone. An order nonetheless. "Certainly," Aric said, keying the intercom and relaying the message.

  A minute later Quinn had joined them. "Colonel," he nodded to Holloway. "What can I do for you?"

  "I just stopped by to tell you that the rest of your force is on its way into the system," Holloway said. "We're expecting them to mesh in at any minute. I thought you might like to use the relay in my car to give them any updated information or orders."

  Aric felt his lip twitch. The original plan had been to let the Corvines contact the Peacekeeper garrison as per standard approach procedure, and then to take over the communication from orbit, giving the fighters their instructions via a directional signal that the garrison's ground receivers wouldn't be able to pick up. With the fueler stuck on the surface instead, Quinn had warned him that such a scheme would be problematic at best. Clearly, Holloway wasn't going to allow them even that much of a chance at getting around him.

  "Thank you, sir," Quinn said, stepping past Holloway toward the car and accepting the microphone the driver handed him. "This is Commander Quinn."

  "Stand by, Commander," a voice said. "We've just made contact with the Corvines." There was a click -

  "Copperhead Task Force Omicron Four to Dorcas ground control," a new voice said crisply. "This is Commander Thomas Masefield. Request permission to speak with Wing Commander Adam Quinn."

  "This is Wing Commander Quinn," Quinn said. "Welcome to Dorcas, Commander."

  "Thank you, sir. Have you any updated orders for us?"

  "No new orders, but the rendezvous schedule's been altered a bit," Quinn said. "You'll need to get an orbit insertion vector from ground control and come in."

  There was a short silence. "I understood we were in something of a hurry, sir," Masefield said.

  "We are," Quinn agreed. "But we're waiting on one more arrival. I'm hoping he'll be here in time for us to meet you in orbit; if not, you'll have to come all the way down."

  "Acknowledged, sir. Reading about forty-five minutes to orbit from here, sixty minutes to ground."

&n
bsp; "Good. Carry on, and we'll see you shortly."

  "Yes, sir. Copperhead Omicron Four out."

  Quinn clicked off the mike and handed it back to the driver. "Thank you, Colonel," he nodded to Holloway. "Was there anything else you wanted?"

  "As a matter of fact, there was," Holloway said, taking the mike again from the driver and flicking it back on. "Lieutenant Gasperi? Report on the incoming skitter."

  "We've got a firm track on it now, Colonel," a voice came. "Getting data transmission."

  "Good. Stand by." Holloway looked at Quinn. "It's a skitter from Edo, Commander, in case you were wondering. We sent a confirmation inquiry to the Peacekeeper base there about your assignment authorization number."

  Carefully, Aric avoided looking at either of the others. Melinda had warned them when they'd first arrived that Holloway was suspicious of the story she'd spun for him. But they'd dismissed her fears, knowing full well that there wouldn't be time for him to get a skitter to Earth and back before they would all be gone from Dorcas. The possibility that Holloway would focus instead on the mission's authorization number - and thereby cut twenty hours out of the round-trip loop - had somehow never occurred to him.

  Which made it polished-plate clear why this sudden burst of cooperation and courtesy on Holloway's part. He'd called their bluff; and now that the blade was on its way down, he intended to be in on the kill personally.

  Casually, Aric threw a glance at the two Marines. They were between the group and the fueler, standing well apart, their hands resting casually on their holstered guns.

  "Colonel?"

  Holloway lifted the mike. "Go ahead, Lieutenant."

  "Data transmission from Edo," Gasperi said. "Quote: Regarding your inquiry, Peacekeeper AAN 67424955/MSC Foxtrot Lima Victor Victor. Copperhead Fighter Unit Omicron Four assigned to Reserve Wing Commander Iniko Bokamba for unspecified patrol mission. Transfer via Dorcas. AAN confirmed, 4/7/03, 15:07:39 LMT, Station 33, Peacekeeper Command Processing Center, Edo. Unquote."

  "I see," Holloway said. "No mention of Commander Quinn?"

  "No, sir. But there's an addendum that says there was a private communication attached for Omicron Four's commander. Edo doesn't have a copy of that."

  Holloway cocked an eyebrow. "Interesting. Would you care to comment on that, Commander?"

  "I'm not sure what comment is necessary, Colonel," Quinn said evenly.

  "We could start with why Commander Masefield seems to think you're in charge of this mission instead of Bokamba," Holloway said.

  "I assume it was part of the private communication."

  "You assume? Don't you know?"

  "I really don't see what the problem is, Colonel," Melinda put in. "The whole idea of this was to confirm Quinn's orders, wasn't it?"

  "Except that we haven't confirmed his orders," Holloway told her. "We've confirmed Wing Commander Bokamba's orders. How that relates to any of you is still unexplained."

  "Then I suggest you ask Wing Commander Bokamba personally about it," Aric said. "Assuming, of course, he's willing to tell you."

  For the first time Holloway seemed taken aback. "Bokamba is here?"

  "He will be shortly," Aric said. "You heard Quinn tell Masefield that we were still waiting for someone, didn't you?"

  "Indeed," Holloway murmured, looking thoughtfully at each of them in turn. "Any idea when he'll arrive?"

  "Not really," Quinn said. "Soon, I hope."

  "I'm sure you do," Holloway said, stepping back to the car door. "All right, then. We'll await his arrival and see what he has to say. Until then, good day."

  He got into the car and closed the door behind him. The two Marines silently joined him, and the vehicle turned around and headed back across the field.

  Aric took a deep breath and looked over at Melinda. "What do you think?"

  "He's not fooled," she said. "Not a bit. He knows there's something off-key about all this. He just doesn't know what."

  "I agree," Quinn said. "And I'm afraid it forces our hand. The minute those Corvines get close enough, we're taking off."

  "What about Dad?" Melinda asked.

  "We can't afford to wait for him," Quinn shook his head. "Stopping to refit the fueler with that Carthage-Ivy computer has already thrown him off our original schedule. If the Mrachanis are slow about dredging up that Conquerors legend, it could be another six to twelve hours before he arrives. There's no guarantee another skitter from Edo or Earth won't get here first with an update on the authorization number."

  "It's worse than that, actually," Aric said. "Holloway's never going to believe a Copperhead wing commander will be coming into the system aboard a civilian yacht."

  "And, of course, as soon as they mesh in, Holloway will make contact and ask to speak to Bokamba," Quinn said grimly. "Teva will have no idea what he's talking about; and then we really will be in the soup."

  "I understand all that," Melinda said. "But as it stands now, you don't have any idea where to start looking."

  Quinn shrugged. "We'll just have to make do with the data from the original attack."

  Melinda sighed. "I don't like it," she said. "But I don't see any alternative. What do you want me to do?"

  Quinn looked up at the fueler. "You can start by telling Max to skip the sensor and nonessentials check and go directly to launch prep. Can he get the fueler up to orbit alone?"

  "He landed it alone," Melinda said. "I presume he won't have any trouble lifting."

  "All right," Quinn nodded. "Mr. Cavanagh and I will both go up in the Counterpunch, then. After that, the only other thing left for you to do will be to lie low until the Cavatina gets here." His lip twitched. "Unless you want to see if you can distract Holloway for us while we lift."

  Melinda blinked. "Distract him?" she echoed. "How do you propose I do that?"

  "You'll think of something," Aric assured her. "Come on, Quinn, let's get started."

  "Got it, Colonel," Hobson called from across the room. "Bokamba, Iniko Ilom."

  Holloway stepped to his side and ran an eye over the record. Bokamba was a Copperhead reserve wing commander, all right, with a pretty impressive record to boot. Still listed as inactive, but with all the other activity going on at Peacekeeper bases, the records updates reaching Dorcas were falling further and further behind. "What about that cross-check with Quinn?" he asked Hobson. "You find anything?"

  "Yes, sir," the other said, pulling up a new record. "Turns out Quinn was in Bokamba's squadron for a little over a year. Just before he resigned his commission."

  And went on to become Lord Stewart Cavanagh's star witness at the Parliament hearings on the Copperheads. "Okay," Holloway said. "At least that part's legit. You find anything else?"

  "Actually, sir, I did." Hobson keyed his board again. "The system was a little quiet at the moment, so I went ahead and did a global cross-search. That McPhee fellow who came in right after Quinn? Turns out his flight plan originated from Granparra, which happens to be Bokamba's residence."

  "Mm." More proof, if Holloway had needed it, that McPhee was in with the Cavanaghs on this. "Thank you."

  "Just a second, sir," Hobson interrupted, lifting a finger. "I don't know if you were aware of this, Colonel, but McPhee got his ship refueled and prepped at Granparra at the Myrmidon Weapons Platform."

  "How do you figure that?"

  "It's right here." Hobson pointed at one of the multidigit numbers in McPhee's flight schedule. "This section here - the last five digits - are the service-classification code. It's very definitely a Peacekeeper base, and the only base in the Granparra system is the Myrmidon Platform."

  "Interesting," Holloway said, frowning at the number. "Has someone changed the rules on civilian use of Peacekeeper facilities?"

  "If they have, I haven't heard about it," Hobson said.

  Holloway shifted his gaze across the room. "Gasperi, has Major Takara checked back in yet?"

  "His team's just landed, sir," Gasperi called back. "He should be here in another minu
te or two."

  "Give him a call," Holloway ordered. "Tell him I want to see him and McPhee in my office."

  "Yes, sir," Gasperi said. "Oh, and Colonel? - Dr. Melinda Cavanagh's here to see you."

  Good; that saved them the trouble of going out and finding her. "Have Duggen and Spaulding escort her to my office," he told Gasperi. "Have them tell her I'll be there shortly."

  "Yes, sir."

  He stepped to a terminal and sat down, permitting himself a tight smile as he got to work. Finally - finally - he had the hook he'd been looking for since Melinda Cavanagh first dropped her private variety store into the middle of his base. NorCoord political hack or not, McPhee was now officially in violation of a whole raft of Peacekeeper regulations, with the proof right there in his flight record. Together with his obvious connections to Quinn and the Cavanaghs, that gave Holloway enough justification to lock the whole bunch of them up. At least long enough to sort out what was going on here.

  He chewed his lower lip, feeling the unpleasant tingle of acid swirling against the base of his esophagus. Somewhere deep inside him, he knew, he was still clinging to the hope that whatever they were up to was something minor. But with six top-line Corvine fighters now involved, that hope was becoming increasingly hard to hold on to. And with the possibility of a summary military trial and judgment looming ever more likely down the road...

  He shook his head firmly. His job was to uncover the truth, and let the ax fall wherever it fell. And that was what he was going to do.

  They were all waiting when he arrived at his office: Takara, McPhee, and Melinda Cavanagh, with Duggen and Spaulding flanking the door. "Good afternoon," Holloway said as he rounded the corner of his desk and sat down. "As I'm sure you're all aware, we're extremely busy here, so I'll get right to the point. Mr. McPhee, you've stated you're a forward man for a supply shipment which is supposed to be on its way to Dorcas. Who exactly is in charge of this shipment, and where is it coming from?"