“Do you think we’re going to end up at war?”
“Maybe,” he replied. “In which case I don’t want to spend the duration locked up in here.”
“We won’t,” she said. “Everyone’s playing for time. If we lose, and we end up at war, then we’ll end up sent straight to the front on the next suicide mission they can find. So will everyone else involved.” She paused, and said, “With all respect to the good people of Ragnarok, I don’t want to be here.”
“I understand,” he said. “You want to try and get to your father, but he’s as safe at the moment as he would be in the Embassy. They’re not going to do anything other than inconvenience him for a while. They’re playing by the book, remember. Sticking to the letter of the law. They’re just doing things with it that no-one ever would have wanted when the Constitution was written.”
“No, that’s not what I mean,” she replied, pacing up and down. “I’m not doing any good sitting in here watching the protesters rally. That’s exactly what Tarrant and the others want us to do.” Pointing at the wall, she said, “I’m as much a prisoner in here as I would be if I was out at Deimos with my father, and doing as little to help.”
“We’re working on things. There’s going to be a bigger news story soon…”
“Alamo leaving won’t even get reported. Fleet will release it as a routine flight, regardless of whatever anyone privately thinks. They’re not going to admit that anyone managed to borrow a capital ship.”
“You’re assuming that Winter doesn’t get caught.”
“I think that’s a reasonably safe assumption to make. I’ve seen him at work.”
“Then the President…”
“The President will go on the air and say something, but unless he’s going to say more than any of us can risk saying, there isn’t that much he can realistically do. Despite his press releases to the contrary, he isn’t God Almighty.”
“So why do you want to go out there?”
“We’ve lost the initiative, Frank. Right now we’re letting the bad guys make all of the key moves, and it’s really beginning to hurt us. The only way we’re going to change that is to go out and find the weapons we need to fight back.”
“Weapons?”
Pointing at the screen, she said, “We don’t even know who we’re fighting! We’ve got a list of names and guesses, and a few hints and suggestions. I wouldn’t go into a battle with this little intelligence, and that’s exactly what we’re fighting here. I can’t do anything sitting here, but I still have a few old friends from the good old days when I flew shuttles for a living, and a few favors I can call in.”
“Or they could pick you up in five minutes and ship you off to a holding cell.”
“In which case we would be no worse off than we are right now.”
He shook his head, sighed, and said, “When exactly are you planning to launch this unorthodox excursion?”
“Right now. This minute.”
“Not even waiting until tonight? Who’s going to tell the Ambassador?”
“You will. After I’m gone. Do you really think there aren’t leaks from this building, with more than a hundred people knowing where I am and what I am doing. That’s another problem, I need freedom of action that I just haven’t got here. Freedom to rattle a few cages and see what falls out.”
“I don’t like this, Maggie. We’re treating Mars as if it is just another hostile colony to infiltrate.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what it is, exactly what it has become, and that’s one more reason why we’ve got to do whatever it takes to stop all of this.”
“How are you going to do it?”
“You’re going to head out right now and tell them that I’m willing to speak to them at Airlock Five, that I will not leave the territory of the embassy but that I will answer any and all questions they want to put to me. That should draw at least most of them over to that side of the dome, and there’s enough transport out there that I can borrow one without attracting attention.”
Nelyubov started to laugh, then said, “I’m going to arrange a diversion while you steal a car in order to drive to the nearest city. This doesn’t sound like much of a plan.”
“Oh, it isn’t, but sometimes the simple plans are the best.”
“What if you can’t break into the car?”
“I was a smuggler, Frank. Do you believe that I never had cause to do a little breaking and entering?” Shaking her head, she said, “I’m just glad the statute of limitations has passed on all of that, or I’d be in real trouble.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No, you aren’t,” she said. “And that’s an order, if it means anything to either of us any more. Someone has to stay here to hold the fort. If a few people are managing to sneak information to you, then you have something you can do right here.”
“Then you stay, and I’ll go.”
“You haven’t walked those streets in more than ten years.” Looking him up and down, she replied, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’d stick out like a sore thumb out there.”
“At least my face isn’t plastered everywhere.”
“Lieutenant Nelyubov, I said that I was giving an order.”
He looked at her for a long minute, then nodded, replying, “Fine, Maggie. If that’s the way you want it. I still think that this is a mistake, but it is yours to make.” He cracked a smile, and said, “I’ll go and lie to some journalists. That ought to cheer me up. Move quickly, though. I don’t think they’ll wait around for long.”
“Thanks, Frank. And don’t worry, I’m coming back.”
“You’d better. I don’t want to be stuck with briefing the press about your demise.”
“My last act of revenge,” she said with a smile. “Go.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a mock-salute, walking out of the room. She looked at the monitors again, waiting for the expected announcement of her imminent press briefing. It took less than a minute before the banners started to roll, the feeds switching to live coverage outside the Embassy; doubtless President Newton and would-be President Ackerman would both be giving it their full attention, wondering what exactly she was going to say.
The last twenty-four hours of captivity had given her an excellent knowledge of the layout of the dome, and she was known enough to the staff that they waved her through without a second thought, some of them flashing her a puzzled look as the announcement of her impending meeting with the press broke.
Quietly, she slipped into one of the emergency airlocks, disabled the alarms with a nine-digit access code, and slid into a surface suit, locking the seals and setting the visor to opaque, hoping that the camouflage would buy her a little time. The inner hatch slammed shut and the pressure rapidly equalized; a few seconds later she was stepping out onto the familiar Martian sands.
She walked straight for the improvised vehicle pool, stepping over the ruts in the soil, and headed for the nearest car, giving it a quick visual inspection to determine whether it was in decent condition. Satisfied by what she saw, she pulled one of her reliable hacking rods out of her pocket and slid it into the vehicle interface, the door sliding open remarkably quickly. The hatch cycled in seconds, and she stepped into the driver’s cabin, pulling off her helmet and heading for the driver’s seat.
“Where are we going?” a voice said from behind her, causing her to turn with a start.
“Who are you?”
“I’d ask you the same question if I wasn’t here to interview you.” Orlova turned to see a slight, blonde woman wearing a well-tailored suit, a wand microphone in her hand. “I’m Harriet Bryce, Triplanetary News Network. I had a feeling that you were leading my colleagues on a wild-goose chase.”
“If I were you,” Orlova replied, “I’d leave. I’m a very dangerous person.”
“Well this h
as been firmly established by my friends at the other networks, but I’m interested in finding out what is going on. And you are in my car.”
“I might be armed.”
“So might I.” She sat down, and said, “Look, I can help you get places you can’t. I’ve got a journalist’s ident, and that opens doors. Moreover, I’ve sorted out a cover story for you.”
“Who are you working for again?”
“My boss is always more interested in the long story than the quick fix. I figure that if I hang around with you, I’m more likely to get the whole picture than I am if I hang around with the jackals out there. Am I right?”
“I’m not going to talk to any journalists,” she replied. “I can’t.”
“Then let me watch and listen, and I won’t report anything until you personally give me clearance to do so.”
Frowning, Orlova said, “What’s your cover story for me?”
“You’re an actress named Claudia Dane, and you are impersonating Orlova to do a few live reconstructions for the network of Lieutenant Orlova’s seditious activities. It won’t stand up to serious inquiry, but I rather hope that you’ll be smart enough to keep us out of one.”
Pausing for a moment, she said, “Give me that microphone.”
“Here,” Bryce said, passing it across. “It isn’t even turned on.”
“Good,” Orlova replied, breaking it across her knee. “No recordings, no interviews, nothing. When this is all over I will give you the whole story – you, personally – but whether or not you ever get clearance to do anything about it is out of my hands. Understood?”
“Completely,” she said. “So, where are we going?”
“The Valley. I know a few people down in the agri-domes, and it’s as good a place as any to get started. I need to contact them now from this terminal.”
“By all means,” she replied. “As long as I get something out of this.”
“I’m sure you will, even if it is just a nasty case of lead poisoning.” Orlova turned to the console and started to type, while the journalist pretended not to look over her shoulder. Despite herself, she began to smile. There was a faint chance that all of this might work out after all.
Chapter 25
Marshall sat in the cramped office, looking at the monitor on the wall, set to display an image of the Cabal ships heading towards them. Less than twelve hours to go until contact, and right now, he had absolutely nothing to do. All the key decisions had been made, and all that remained was for the crews of the ships under his command to get ready, a job for technicians and junior officers. The only thing left for him was to wait.
He looked around the room, shaking his head, wondering what had kept him from transferring his flag to the Gilgamesh or the Thermopylae. Hell, Frank Rogers was an old friend of his, and Gorski was at least tolerable. Something was holding him back, and he didn’t need anyone to tell him what it was. Neither of them was his ship. Nor was Wyvern, of course, but at least it didn’t look like Alamo, wasn’t littered with a thousand subtle reminders of what he’d had, and what he’d lost.
There was a knock at the door, breaking him out of his reverie, and Cunningham stepped in, a datapad in his hand and a smile on his face.
“Planning on taking one of the fighters out for another joyride?” he asked.
Shaking his head, Marshall replied, “Not today, John. Last time I was just in the right place at the right time.”
“That puts you up to twelve kills,” he said. “Getting close to my record, and I never managed two in a single dogfight.”
“I was as surprised as you were. I guess I still have some of the old skill left after all.”
“Please don’t do it again. And don’t leave me in command next time; Gorski has more than two years’ seniority over me.”
“You’re better than Gorski.”
“Granted, but that doesn’t mean I want the job.”
“Something we have in common,” Marshall replied, gesturing up at the screen again. “If you look hard enough, you can almost see them moving in.”
Cunningham reached up, flicked off the screen, and said, “Don’t dwell on it.”
Looking up, he said, “In less than…”
“And there is nothing you can do to stop them, and nothing else you can do here. Hell, I’m in about the same boat. Everything’s ready and I’ve sent the combat crew down to rest. You ought to think about it as well.”
With a frown, Marshall said, “I’ll take a nap when you do.”
“I’m different, I’ve…”
“No you aren’t,” he said with a smile. “The waiting is always the worst part of this. Always.”
“Eager anticipation…”
“For it all to be over so we can go home.” Standing up, he said, “What the hell are we doing out here, John? I’ve been going over the strategic charts again, and do you know what the Fleet has in position to support anything we might do here?”
“No.”
“Nothing. Not a damn thing.” He gestured at the viewport, the asteroid slowly tumbling below, and said, “I pushed this because those were are orders, and because I presumed that there was more to it than that, but after two damn days I can’t find any evidence of that.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve got Caine going over everything again in case I’ve missed something.” With a deep sigh, he continued, “Maybe I’m just not cut out for all of this.”
“You don’t really believe that.”
“No, I guess not, but I’m struggling to see what the purpose of all of this is.” Shaking his head, he said, “I’m probably looking in the wrong place. Just diplomatic crap, like I said before. We’re pawns to be sacrificed for the peace treaty.” An ugly thought flashed into his head, and he added, “You think they might be planning to trade this damn rock back to the Cabal?”
“Anything is possible, Danny, but that’s way above our pay grade, isn’t it? Tramiel wouldn’t have ordered this on a whim. There’s more going on that we know. Maybe it is all just political and there isn’t an overriding strategic plan; that doesn’t necessarily mean that this isn’t important. Not if it helps buy us peace. Even if it is just for a while.”
The door slid open, and Caine stalked in, tossing a datapad down onto the desk. She waited for the door to close, then walked over to Marshall, staring down at him.
“Did you know?”
“Know what?”
“Our orders,” she said with a hollow laugh. “Our god-damned orders. Do you know what this mission is?”
“To secure the asteroid,” Marshall replied.
“Ah, but have you seen the original orders from the Combined Chiefs and from the President?”
He looked across at Cunningham and said, “No. They weren’t in the briefing pack, just the orders from Counter-Admiral Tramiel. It isn’t really customary to see every order in the chain of command, Deadeye.”
“Well, we damn well should have made an exception in this case.” She closed her eyes, counted under her breath, and said, “We are executing a reconnaissance in force.”
“Where?”
“Here, damn it! This mission was not ordered by your precious chain of command!”
Marshall snatched the datapad from her hand and started to skim through it, flicking through the pages before looking up, “Are you sure about this? Where the hell did you get it from?”
“Fleet Captain Hayes’ corpse. She had that datapad on her when they pulled her out of the escape pod. If she hadn’t been brought here, I’d never have seen it.”
“Hold on a minute,” Cunningham said. “All of us have known Jack Tramiel for years. I don’t buy for a moment that he would suddenly go rogue and start a war. We’ve operated under sealed orders before.”
“And all three of us have high security clearance. The same as Hay
es, in fact; I checked. Anything she knew about, we should know about.”
“Alamo’s mission to the Cabal was a verbal order from the President,” Marshall replied. “Passed on through Counter-Admiral Remek. Perhaps this is the same idea.” Shaking his head, he continued, “I like that a lot less than the other, frankly. That would mean that someone wants to have plausible deniability if all of this goes wrong.”
“If this threatens to brew up into a war, all of us can be thrown to the dogs in the interests of peace,” Cunningham said. “What about the other possibility?”
“What possibility is that,” Marshall replied. “That Tramiel went mad one day and decided to start a war? I can’t believe that.”
“You were second in command of the task force,” Caine said, “so why wouldn’t you be brought into the loop? There was always a risk that you would end up running the show.” Frowning, she continued, “And why the hell not tell us about the original order?”
“What about Hydra?” Cunningham asked.
“We’re supposed to be there right now. From the looks of things the plan was to send down a couple of scoutships, look over the lie of the land for future operations. Reconnaissance, not invasion.”
“Rookie Espatiers,” Marshall said. “Those bastards.”
“Danny?”
Looking at Caine, he said, “They didn’t expect those kids to go to battle. If they’d just been wandering around on Driftwind and up on Hydra Station, that would just be a question of guard duty. We could have finished their training with only minimal risk.” He slammed a hand on the desk, and said, “Someone decided that they were expendable.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
With a bitter laugh, he said, “The damage is done, isn’t it? The dead are dead, and there’s nothing I can do to bring them back. Besides, John has a point – the lack of written orders doesn’t necessarily mean a damn thing. For all we know, there were fears of a security leak. Maybe they thought some of us might have been turned.”
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