“I damn well hope not. We haven’t got the manpower for this operation, never mind leaving twenty or so behind as a prize crew.” She took a deep breath, and said, “You have to be prepared for the possibility that the Admiralty will send a new station commander and a staff, though.”
“Damn it, this is a civilian station. I only gave it to you because I needed to defend my people, and I figured that you’d do a better job of it than the Cabal was doing. I’m having second thoughts about the deal.”
Shaking her head, she said, “I hope not. That was a ninety-nine year lease, remember.”
He glared at her in reply, and said, “Tell me that Captain Marshall would have done this. Tell me that Lieutenant Orlova would do this. Tell me with a straight face, looking me right in the eyes.”
“I can’t, but that really has nothing to do with this, and you know it. Major Marshall is in command, and what he says, goes. It’s as simple as that.”
“Nice and simple if you aren’t on the receiving end of it.”
Orlova looked up and saw Major Marshall walking towards them; Bailey was staring after him, fury on her face, before turning back to the status board to input commands, her finger stabbing at the controls.
“Why did you give orders for me to be removed from my own control room?” Price said.
Raising a hand, the Major replied, “An oversight on my part. I neglected to add you to the list of approved personnel. We can’t be too careful as things are at the moment, I’m sure you’ll agree.”
“Yes, but…”
“I’ve got the records on that Neander that tried to kill you, Pendol,” the Major said, turning away from the fuming Price. “Want to have a look?”
“Certainly.”
As they walked over to a vacant terminal, he continued, “I understand Carpenter hasn’t had much luck with her scans of the surface.”
“Not yet,” Orlova replied. “The scientific loss could be considerable. If that was the only site…”
“I doubt I’d authorize another trip down to the surface in any case,” he replied. “Not without a platoon of Espatiers as escort. We just don’t have the people, and I’m reluctant to risk anyone else, especially when we are this close to getting home.” Sitting down at the station, he slid in a datacrystal and started to type. “Here we are.”
A series of records flashed up on the screen, text rapidly switching from French to English scrolling down the right-hand side. The process made Orlova extremely uncomfortable; most of the information related to his time as an indent, a slave by any other name.
“Disgusting,” Price said on her behalf.
“Useful, though,” the Major replied. “Apparently he had a record of insubordination.”
“He didn’t like being a slave,” Price said. “I’d call that a badge of honor.”
“Here we are,” Orlova said, as the text neared its end. “Hired by Hydra Station as a maintenance technician, specializing in sensor systems.”
Nodding, the Major commented, “This is all beginning to make sense now.”
“Visited the surface on five occasions, each for a single day…”
“Not uncommon,” Price interrupted. “Below they can find their own people, a free society. Of course they want to visit it. I’ll be surprised if a lot of them don’t end up moving down there, ultimately. Could do both sides some good.”
Looking up, Orlova said, “This doesn’t help.”
“Why?” the Major asked.
Pointing at the screen, she said, “He’s got a cast-iron alibi for the time of the attacks; he was working in a spacesuit out on the hull with five others. For almost the whole time he was under surveillance.”
“That’s suspicious in itself,” the Major replied. “It’s almost as if he went out of his way to make sure that he couldn’t be accused of taking part in what happened down there on the planet.”
“Come on, damn it!” Price exploded. “Everything’s a god-damn conspiracy to you! He was doing his job on the outer hull. End of story. Why he decided to go mad and attack Maggie is a mystery to me, but…” He stopped, looking down at the deck, and continued. “You’re going to use this to continue your witch hunt.”
“The fact remains that a party on the surface was attacked,” the Major said. “We can’t get away from that. He might not have been involved, but he was certainly skilled enough to camouflage a shuttle launch on our sensors.”
“There’s something, though,” Orlova said. “There can’t be many of them. Pendol would have been far better kept in the shadows, continuing his work. To me this points to a small group of conspirators. Hell, it wouldn’t have taken that many to ambush us on the surface. We were caught by surprise and separated, and I never actually saw anyone.”
“I hope you’re right,” the Major replied, “but I’m not planning to rule anything out at the moment. I don’t dare take the risk.”
“Sir?” Bailey said, sullenly. “I’ve just received a petition over the public channels. Twenty-nine names, all demanding the immediate release of Pendol from our custody.”
Bolting up from his chair, he replied, “Twenty-nine?”
“All but nine of them Neander. Most of the Neander personnel on the station. What do you want me to do about it, sir?”
Price shook his head, and said, “We can’t let him go, but I know what’s brought this on. They’re worried about him, and I can’t blame them. What about letting a deputation on board to take a look at him, reassure them that he is receiving proper and fair treatment?”
Nodding, Orlova said, “That might not be such a bad idea, sir. We could ensure that they were properly escorted at all times, and if it would stop the protests in their tracks.”
“No,” the Major replied, shaking his head. “Not a chance. We can’t let them think that they have any influence over our decisions, or this will just be beginning, not the end. What we have now got is a list of twenty-nine suspects.”
“Can I have a look at the list?” Price said, and Bailey handed him a datapad. After a few seconds skimming it, he nodded, and said, “I thought as much. Zardok.”
“Life support technician?” Orlova said. “I think I remember him.”
“He’s an activist. I remember the Captain of the Dumont complaining about him all the time, I ended up buying his contract to keep him safe. That bastard would have spaced him eventually. My guess is that he’s the ringleader of this.”
“Then I want him arrested immediately.”
Orlova’s eyes widened, and she said, “Sir, I don’t think that’s a good idea. If we do that, then it will simply confirm all of the worst suspicions of the people who signed their names to that list, and even if we could arrest and hold them all, that would cripple station operations. Most of them are just concerned about their friend.”
“What do you want to do, then?” the Major said.
“Let me go and talk to him, off the record. He might listen to me, and if this can be solved without any further bloodshed, we ought to take that chance.”
With a sigh, he nodded, and said, “I have two conditions to this. The first is that you will not commit yourself to anything without consulting me, and the second is that you have an escort. I’ll call Sergeant Forrest to accompany you.”
Price added, “Zardok’s down in the lower levels at the moment. I’ll have him paged...”
“No,” Orlova said. “Just in case, I think it better if I give him a surprise. Just give me the details of his current work assignment, and I can handle the rest.”
“Good idea,” the Major said. “I’ll go rustle up your escort.” He walked over to the far side of the room, back towards Bailey, and Price settled down in the chair, typing in commands. He paused, then looked up at her.
“Be careful down there. The last thing we need is another incident. Everything’s out of contro
l enough at the moment.”
“I’m glad you are concerned.”
“Dammit, you know what I mean,” he said. He shook his head, then pointed at the screen, “There you are. Lower level of the ring, section nine. According to the logs, he should be almost finished with his current job.”
“Good, then I won’t be disturbing anything vital.” She paused, then said, “You know that he is only doing what he has to do, don’t you?”
“I know that. That’s all any of us are doing.”
Forrest walked up to the door, and Orlova, one last look around the operations room, headed over to him. He snapped to attention as she approached, his arm raising to a parade-ground salute that she returned as correctly as she could.
“You don’t have to be quite so formal, Sergeant.”
His grizzled face breaking into a smile, he said, “After all that time in the cage, I’m enjoying all of this too much.”
“I see. Shall we go?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, reaching into his pocket and picking out a sidearm. “You might want this.”
She looked at the pistol, shook her head, and took it, placing it in her holster, “We shouldn’t have to do anything like this, not here.”
“I know, but given the circumstances…”
Nodding, she said, “Let’s get this done.” The two of them walked down the corridor, stepping onto a waiting elevator. It ran almost the whole length of the station, looping them around to the far side of the habitation ring, half a mile through the shafts, before the doors opened again in a darkened area, lights flickering on and off. In the gloom, she could see half a dozen people standing around, a murmur of conversation that stopped as soon as they became aware of her presence.
“I’m looking for Zardok,” she said. “Is he here?”
One of them, a tall Neander with long, shaggy hair, stepped forward, saying, “One of our overlords coming to talk to us? We are honored.”
“This is a murder investigation,” she replied, and they turned to chatter again. She recognized one of the figures in the corner as Ixia, the Neander who had accompanied Ouroboros on its rescue mission. When she saw Orlova looking at her, she turned down to the deck.”
“Lieutenant,” she said.
“I haven’t seen you since I left Ouroboros. Are you settling in?”
“I’m fine, Lieutenant,” she said, looking up at Zardok. “This one isn’t like the others. She understands, more than most of them.”
“They’re our oppressors,” he replied.
“They freed me.”
“To serve their own ends, not yours.”
“Perhaps, but I watched her risk her life to save her people.” Looking up at Orlova and Forrest, she continued, “These aren’t Cabal enforcers. They’re different.”
“I don’t see any difference in the way they are behaving. Or was I dreaming when I was instructed that I was to be confined to quarters while on duty? That’s a Cabal trick. Next we’ll learn that we can’t escape our contracts.” He turned back, and said, “Are you here to do to us what you did to Pendol?”
“That depends whether you are here to try and kill me or not. I will give you my word as an officer that he is being well-treated, and will receive a fair trial.”
“Under your law, not ours.” He gestured up at Forrest, and said, “Is he your enforcer?”
“Sergeant Forrest is worried about me. Does he have a cause?”
Zardok waved his hands about, and said, “We are a peaceful people, at least, unless our anger is roused. And our tempers are being seriously strained at the moment.”
Nodding, she replied, “I get the idea that you speak for their people. I’m able to speak for mine. Why don’t we talk?”
“In a cell?”
“No. Here and now, just the two of us.”
“Lieutenant…,” Forrest rumbled, but she silenced him with a look. Zardok’s companions seemed as reluctant to leave them on their own, but Ixia was gesturing furiously, gabbling in a language she couldn’t understand.
Finally, Zardok said, “My friends are concerned that you are armed, and I am not. It doesn’t seem fair.”
Looking down at her holster, Orlova nodded, and said, “I agree.” She drew her pistol and passed it to Forrest. “Take care of that, will you.”
“Maggie,” Forrest whispered. “This is taking a hell of a risk.”
Shaking her head, she replied, “I don’t think so. Six against two is lousy odds in any case.”
Nodding, Zardok replied, “I agree completely.” Looking around at his friends, he said, “We will have a little talk. I dare say it will not take long.”
Forrest lingered for a moment as the rest broke away, dispersing into the shadows. Ixia remained, standing at Zardok’s shoulder, resolution fixed on her face, as finally the Sergeant made for the elevator.
“You wished to speak to me, then. Here I am.”
“Did you know Pendol well?”
“I’ve known him for years. He can be hot-headed, but I don’t believe he would resort to violence.”
“And yet he did,” Orlova replied. “He’d gone down to the surface a lot. Was he interested in joining the tribes on the surface?”
A barking laugh was his response; he said, “You should have heard him berate those Elders for wasting their freedom, squatting down in the dust when they could have been reaching for the stars. No, he wasn’t going to become a primitive. He had dreams, as do we all. Of a collection of free Neander worlds, proud among the stars, the tyrants overthrown. Tell me,” he continued, crossing his arms, “if you have your war with the Cabal, what would you do?”
“Once the fighting was over, you would have your freedom. We are not a colonizing power. You would be offered membership – equal membership – in the Confederation, but would be quite at liberty to go your own path.”
He smiled, and said, “Do you expect me to believe that? I know you have annexed Ragnarok and Jefferson. Why wouldn’t you wish to expand further, to claim these worlds for your own?”
“We fought for our own freedom not so long ago. Not to enslave another. We’d be stronger together than apart, but if you wished to set up your own state, that would be your affair, not ours.” Pausing, she replied, “Why did Pendol go down to the surface so often, then?”
“History,” Ixia said. “He wanted to look at what remains of our past. So much has been lost, and on the surface they have preserved many of the old legends.”
“He hoped that tales of great heroes of long ago would inspire our people to stand up and revolt. I don’t agree; we need to find our own courage, not borrow it from the long-dead. One day, we will have our freedom, whether you help us or not.” He smiled, then said, “After all, you wouldn’t be fighting the Cabal to save us, but to protect yourselves.”
“We aren’t the universe’s policeman. We can’t be. There are things we can do, ways we can help. You could be linked up with other resistance groups, perhaps get training, equipment – there are other ways than a full-scale invasion.”
“Listen to her,” Ixia said. “We’ve got too much blood on our hands already. Must we bathe in it further?”
“Words and dreams won’t free us. It will take action.” He raised a hand, then said, “I know your next question, and I will answer it. I was not involved in the attack on the surface, nor were any of my friends. I give you my word on that. There are many who are more impatient than even I.”
Footsteps echoed through the corridor, and Forrest charged towards them, hands raised, saying, “Lieutenant, we’ve got to get back to Alamo. Carpenter’s been attacked, a work crew from the station got away.”
“Is she…”
“Alive, and will recover. Her attacker is another story – apparently Private Morris killed him with one shot.”
Shaking his head, Zardok sai
d, “Another of my people killed.”
“No,” Forrest replied. “His name was Gennady Ivanov. A shuttle pilot. Human.”
Chapter Fifteen
Once again, Marshall sat at the controls of the Brunel, channeling his brief experiences as a starship pilot from more than a decade ago as he carefully guided the freighter towards the hendecaspace point, the course being fed into the computer by Newton from the command chair. It felt strange, and oddly liberating, to be a crewman on this trip rather than being in charge; he felt as though he could relax and enjoy the ride.
The spoiler loomed on the sensor display above him, the Dauntless, the Cabal vessel that had been loitering half-way across the system, waiting for them to move. At the very least, they were going to test the accuracy of Cabal tracking technology in a moment, though while he hoped that they might be able to give the battlecruiser the slip, he didn’t actually believe they would manage it.
“Fifty seconds to the egress point,” he said, not looking up from his controls.
“You have the call,” Newton said. “Astrogation checks completed.”
“Aye. I have the call.”
He rested his hands over the console, tapping a button to release the systems to automatic control. The timing was far too split-second for this to be anything other than a one-in-a-million backup – the few times a human had managed to guide a ship into hendecaspace without computer control had been more by luck than judgment. As the countdown dropped to zero, he tapped the button, and with a blinding blue flash, the ship transitioned.
“Jump successful,” he reported. “Ship on dimensional trajectory.”
“Sensors, Cantrell,” Newton said.
“Working. If they jump as soon as they see us start to move to the egress point, we’ll have company in about eighty-five seconds.”
“That’s something we could try next time,” Cooper said. “Fake a plan to jump.”
Marshall smiled, then said, “Good idea, but too late. There’s only one place we could realistically be going from our next stop.”
Battlecruiser Alamo: The First Duty Page 14
