An Indecent Proposal

by Jaleta Clegg

  "Thank you all for coming," Lowell started.

  "Why are we here?" one of the men demanded. He wore a silver uniform that still had a battle group commander's pins in the collar.

  "Because Commander Querran requested you be here," Lowell said. If they were going to challenge him, better here than in the middle of the operation.

  "And why should we follow your orders?" The man flicked a glance at the Patrol symbol on Lowell's uniform.

  "Do you really want a war with the Empire and the Patrol?" Lowell asked. With those simple words he had the undivided attention of every person in the room. "I'm offering you a way to work with me, and by association, with the Patrol. Your real enemy isn't the Empire. It's the crime syndicates that are raiding our ships." His choice of words was deliberate, picked to smooth over differences still too new. It was only partly successful.

  "We're capable of taking care of ourselves," the man said. "We've been doing it long enough."

  "I'm not here to quarrel with you or condemn you for the choices you've made," Lowell said. "I'm not in any position to pass judgment. I'm here to try to keep you from killing your comrades in the Patrol and from them killing you. Do you really want the order to fire on them? Last I heard, they have orders to shoot your ships on sight."

  The people in the room shifted uneasily, trading glances Lowell didn't try to read. It would be too depressing.

  "Then what of the Praetoris? It's still Patrol, but it's here," said a woman who looked like she should have been in an office, not in a military uniform. Definitely not shooting people, Lowell thought to himself.

  "They brought me here," Lowell said. "Commander Wexford is going to work jointly with you."

  "You just said his orders were to shoot our ships," the first man objected.

  "He has chosen to ignore those orders."

  "Isn't there a word for that?" the man continued. "Like treason?"

  "How is that different from what you've done?" Lowell asked.

  The uniformed people in the room shuffled uneasily. No one would look him in the eye or answer.

  "They were orders given by someone who should never have been given command of the Patrol Fleet," Lowell said. "Work with me, and maybe we can convince Command to rescind the orders. Maybe we can find a solution to our problems that doesn't involve people dying."

  "We won't go back to the Empire," the man said. "Not now."

  "I'm not asking you to," Lowell said. "I respect your choice, even if others do not. You haven't joined the Federation yet. You have a Fleet of your own, but you are vulnerable. How soon until your ships begin to break down because you can't get the parts to fix them? How soon until you run short of commodities made only outside your sector? How long can you stand on your own? How long can you last if the Empire is pushed into war? I'm here to try to keep that from happening, in whatever way I can. You probably have heard my own name is on the most wanted list in the Empire. If you want to talk treason, talk about those who are trying to destroy the Empire. Are you willing to work with me against them or do I need to find someone else?"

  He waited silently through the mutters and shifting of the group. He took their eventual silence as agreement.

  "Then let's begin," he said. He reached for his mem sheets.

  "What are they doing here?" the man said, pointing at the other group of people in the room. They wore shipsuits, but they were merchants, not military. "This is no place for civilians."

  "Without them, we won't succeed," Lowell said. The man opened his mouth to interrupt again. Lowell held up his hand. "Let me explain, please. After I tell you the plan, you can give me your input." He picked up the mem sheet, spreading it out on the table.

  The door to the room opened. Lowell bit back a curse at the interruption. Was it just his timing or his luck that was off today? Definitely his timing, he thought when he saw who entered the room. He smiled and meant it.

  "Tayvis, why am I not surprised to see you here?" He cocked his head to one side. "Come to think of it, why are you here?"

  Tayvis stopped near the table. He didn't answer for a long moment. Lowell studied him. There were lines in his face that hadn't been there before, and a haunted look in his eyes.

  "Commander Querran sent me," Tayvis answered. "She said I could help you, seeing that we used to work together."

  Paltronis stirred behind him. Lowell could almost feel the heat of her impatience with him, he could almost feel her eyes drilling holes into his head. Now was not the time for personal matters.

  "Who are you working for?" Lowell asked bluntly. "I know it isn't the Patrol anymore."

  "Let's just say I'm working for my own interests this time," Tayvis hedged.

  "That isn't good enough," Lowell answered.

  Tayvis sighed. "Will Smythe sent me to you. And before you ask, no, I'm not working for the Federation. Not really."

  There was more behind his words. Lowell would get Paltronis to dig it out later. Unless things had changed for the better, Tayvis wasn't going to confide in him.

  "Any objections?" Lowell asked the others in the room. "I'll vouch for Commander Tayvis. Pardon, ex-Commander Tayvis. He's a very good strategist."

  "And he knows weaponry," Paltronis added.

  The uniformed people still looked uneasy. There were civilians present. There were too many people present for Lowell's own tastes, but that couldn't be helped. Everett's network was farflung. So far, they'd kept their secrets. He tapped the mem sheet on the table.

  "Let me explain our plan and then you can tell me your concerns." He waited for objections. Amazingly enough, there weren't any. Yet. They hadn't heard the plan.

  It was Everett's plan. Lowell had helped, but Everett had proven a devious, cunning, sneaky, underhanded plotter every bit as good as Lowell himself.

  "A shipment is scheduled to leave Ylisini in two days," he said. "There will be a crate of chemicals on board as part of the shipment."

  "And why is this important?" the spokesman demanded.

  "Those chemicals are inert," Lowell said, "until they are mixed together. The detection equipment won't sound any alarms over them. After they are mixed, though, they will slowly heat up, until quite unexpectedly, you have a very loud, smoky explosion. It should take about six hours after the separation membrane is punctured. Which it will be when the crate is moved into the storage bay at the shipyards." He stopped and looked up at the people in the room. "I assume you've been briefed on that."

  He met Tayvis' look. Tayvis gave him a slight shake of the head. There were others, those in uniform who also looked confused. The merchants were smug in their knowledge. He sighed and sat down at the table.

  "Then let me start at the beginning and give you the short version. Several years ago, I received information that the Blackthorne Syndicate was building ships that matched Patrol cruisers in almost every detail. It took me a while to track down where they bought the equipment and plans, but by then, Blackthorne had been demolished." He pretended not to notice Tayvis wincing at the bald statement that slipped past the real truth. "I only recently learned the ships were still out there, that there were more of them being built. It's only been within the last few weeks that I've confirmed the location of their shipyard."

  "And?" the military spokesman prompted. "If Blackthorne is gone and it's their shipyard, why is it a problem?"

  "How many ships have you had shot up recently?" Lowell asked him.

  The man stiffened. "The Patrol has been raiding our worlds. We were only protecting ourselves."

  "The only Patrol ship scheduled to be anywhere near here for the last two months and the next three is the Praetoris," Lowell interrupted. "The Patrol is not responsible for the raids."

  "Then who is?" The spokesman leaned over the table, trying to intimidate Lowell.

  "Use your brain," one of the merchants finally spoke. "The crime syndicates still own the shipyard. What does it matter if it's Blackthorne or someone else? The end result is still the same."


  "Blackthorne no longer exists," Lowell said, "not as a separate organization. Targon and Blackthorne merged what was left. And then they merged with the other syndicates."

  "So?" The spokesman was getting on his nerves.

  "There are reasons the Empire is crumbling," Paltronis said. "They have nothing to do with taxes. Someone wants to topple the Empire."

  "I'm afraid they are mostly succeeding," Lowell said.

  "Just who are you?" the spokesman asked. "Commander Querran said we should give you our cooperation but she didn't say anything else about you."

  "Grant Lowell, of the Patrol High Command. I used to command the Undercover Division. I'm currently wanted for treason. Again. But none of that is important. What matters is stopping the syndicates. We're here to take the shipyard away from them."

  "And give it to the Patrol?"

  Lowell really wanted to shake the spokesman until his teeth rattled. Had Querran sent the man to test him? He sensed that if he could convince the man to support him, the rest would follow.

  "The deal I signed with the governor and Commander Querran specified that the shipyard would belong to Cygnus Sector. Half of the ships we capture will also remain in Cygnus."

  "And the other half of the ships?"

  "I promise they won't be used against you," Lowell said flatly. He had given enough. He waited.

  The man finally straightened. "Let's hear your plan."

  There was a time, Lowell thought, when he would have had the man ready to rush into a burning building at his word. When had he lost his touch? Was it when he'd started to question the validity of what he was doing? Did the ends really justify the means? He really didn't know.

  "As I was saying," Lowell said, pushing away the crippling doubts, "about six hours after the crate is placed in storage it will explode. The chemicals will pass any screening tests until then. There are three other shipments that have been timed to arrive about the same time."

  "Why?" the spokesman asked. "What good will blowing up a storage bay do?"

  "It makes a lovely distraction." Lowell waited until he was sure he had the full attention of all the military people. Tayvis stared at the tabletop, but Lowell knew he would be able to recite the entire briefing, word for word if necessary. He nodded to the leader of the merchants, one of Everett's numerous cousins. The woman stepped up to the table.

  "We'll have at least six ships docked by then," she said. "Each will have maximum crew. Most of them won't actually be crew. We're sending all of the pilots and navigators we can find."

  The spokesman looked confused. "Why?"

  "So we can steal any ships that are capable of flying," Lowell said. The man was really wearing on him. "We have people in place at the shipyard who will take down the security systems as best they can."

  "It sounds like you don't need any of us," the spokesman said belligerently.

  "We need you as backup," Lowell said, "in case something goes wrong. We need you to shoot down any ship that doesn't pass the right codes. We can't let anyone escape."

  "What of the shipyard? They should have lots of guards."

  "Not as many as you'd think," the merchant captain said. "A few dozen. Which is why we would like some of your people to go, disguised as crew."

  "They will have to be selected carefully," Lowell said. "We need people who will blend in. Paltronis will be leading one team. The others will be assigned to pilots and navigators to get them into the ships we're stealing."

  "What are you sending Paltronis to do?" Tayvis asked, without looking up.

  "She'll have a squad of ten. Her job is to secure the main control room for the shipyard. If she can't do that within thirty minutes after we start, her job is to set explosives and blow the entire facility."

  "Better that no one have it, if we can't," someone murmured.

  "I'd like to go," Tayvis offered. He looked up, past Lowell to Paltronis. "I've spent most of the last few months on a freighter."

  "I'd be happy to have you," Paltronis said, "as long as you remember I outrank you this time."

  "I'll be on the Praetoris." Lowell brought up a map of the area near the Prelain Nebula. The location of the shipyard was highlighted with angry red. "We'll be waiting in this area," he stabbed his finger into the map, "far enough away that they shouldn't detect us, but close enough we can catch any ships trying to run for it. There will be twelve other ships in these locations." He tapped the map and spots of blue and yellow appeared in a globe around the shipyard's angry red. He looked up at the military people. "Querran promised me her twelve best captains and ships."

  "This shouldn't be a civilian operation," the spokesman objected.

  "It would take us years, if ever, to plant people on that facility," Lowell said. "We don't have years. We have one week to get everything in position and make our move. There are people in place already. We use whatever resources we have. Because we have no choice."

  His last sentence fell into dead silence. No one wanted to think of a war where more than the military fought and died. It hadn't happened in centuries, if you overlooked isolated events on individual worlds.

  "We have people in place," Lowell repeated. "They know the risks."

  The spokesman studied the plans sketched out on the mem sheets now glowing on the table. He finally nodded.

  "I don't like the plan, but it should work," he said.

  "Then you'll follow my orders?" Lowell asked.

  "For this operation, yes," the man said.

  "But only because Querran ordered you to," Lowell said. "I understand. As long as you follow my orders without question, we'll be fine."

  "Without question?" the man said.

  "Ask your questions before we move and I'll do my best to answer," Lowell said. "But don't question once everything starts."

  "Understood," the man said. And then added, "Sir."

  "Thank you," Lowell said. "We'll send detailed orders and the codes that each ship that leaves must transmit. If there is any doubt, you are to destroy the ships. Is that clear? The people going in know it will be dangerous. They know how vital those codes will be."

  "What if they're compromised?" the spokesman asked.

  "They have three sets of codes," Lowell said as patiently as he could. He itched to be moving. "One set means the ship is ours, no trouble. Another means we have control, but there are hostiles on the ship. And a third that means we're being held hostage, blow the ship. If you receive that signal, you are to open fire without hesitation. Is that clear?"

  The man was pale, but he nodded.

  "You said they were Patrol cruisers," the military woman who had spoken before said. "If that's the case, then one of their ships could easily shoot down most of ours."

  "If their weapons were operational, true." This was the devious part of the plan. "As soon as our special shipments are delivered, the com tech will send a pulse through the system. It contains a computer code that will effectively shut down all weapons systems that receive it. Everyone has to maintain communications blackout. Timing is critical. Any of your ships still receiving when the code is sent will lose their weapons."

  "Then we have to operate blindly?" the woman asked.

  "Only for a few hours," Lowell said. "By the time the signal has passed, we should have control of the station. You'll only need to intercept the ships and escort them here."

  "Or shoot them down, provided their weapons systems are nonfunctional," the woman said. "I don't like the plan."

  "I don't either," the spokesman said. "But I don't see another way to take that facility. We don't have the ships for a full frontal assault. It has to be taken from the inside."

  Lowell was impressed. He hadn't had to beat them over the head with the obvious.

  The man leaned over, locking gazes with Lowell. "I don't like using merchants this way."

  "Neither do I," Lowell agreed, "but they volunteered. It was their plan."

  The man glanced at the merchants with new res
pect. Yes, he had played that hunch correctly, Lowell told himself.

  "Does anyone have any further questions?" Lowell asked. "Then let's start on the details," he said when no one answered.

  He barely noticed when Paltronis and Tayvis left. He was deep in details with the military and the merchants, hammering out the schedule, minute by minute. He silently wished Paltronis luck. If anyone could get the man to talk, it would be her. He turned his full attention to his plan. It was going to take a lot more than luck to pull it off.

  Chapter 46

  The night air of Ytirus was balmy, soft with the scent of ocean. The planet was terraformed and looked it. Strips of artificially shaped ocean wound between wide archipelagos of land. The climate stayed warm all year. Tall buildings lined the beaches.

  Tayvis walked with his head down. Paltronis kept pace with him, waiting for him to say something. They walked across the complex near the port. Ships lifted and landed nearby, military ships with bright new paint covering the side where the Patrol logo used to be.

  Tayvis walked down to a spreading stretch of beach. He stood where the waves curled gently up onto the sand, barely missing his boots.

  "Why are you following me, Paltronis?" he asked at length. He looked out over the water, at the stretch of glittering lights across the stretch of ocean. He didn't look at her.

  "Because I'm curious why you're out here. And I haven't seen you for a while."

  "I came out here because I wanted time alone. Lowell doesn't need me at his meeting. I don't have any relevant information he hasn't already figured out."

  "But you have other information?"

  He finally glanced at her.

  "Lowell will be interested to see if your guess matches up with his." Paltronis looked away this time. "He should be done briefing in about six hours. More if they have questions."

  "It's that complicated?"

  "No, it's that politically difficult. You can't imagine the contortions he's put himself through to get this together. Everett was ready to do it himself. Including the big guns."