CHAPTER 13
London, England
Wednesday 14 July
“Sidney, I’m worried.”
He raised an eyebrow. Why should she worry? He provided everything, and had given no indication that he tired of her. Still, she wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box.
“What worries you?” He really didn’t care but, between mouthfuls of breakfast, decided it would keep her more compliant if he at least pretended to.
“While you’re at work, I watch the vids a lot.”
“Right.” Better than going out and spending his money.
“And the News keeps on talking about ‘increased tensions with the USNA’. Do you think there could be war?”
He laughed out loud. He couldn’t help it. “War? Nonsense. Everyone knows that no one wins in a war. Some more trade difficulties, maybe. War? Never.”
But that had him thinking. He never really paid much attention to politics – the Trans-Planetary Companies transcended such national rivalries. But something like a war – even a trade war – might impact his savings. What if the USNA cracked down on offshore banking? What if the European Treaty Organization did the same? He might lose access to his offshore funds. He needed to look into that.
“I don’t know, Sidney. All the news shows say the same thing. And Marie is worried, too. It’s not just me.”
He really hadn’t paid attention. Those in control put out the news shows for the gullible. Pap for the masses. He pretty much ignored them.
“And I saw some soldiers last time I went shopping.”
He laughed. “I’ve seen soldiers, too. Haven’t you ever seen them before?”
“Of course. But these ones didn’t look as happy as they used to. Before, they would be joking – and many would try to chat me up. Now they hardly ever do.”
Chat her up? He frowned, and then his expression cleared. Of course they would chat her up if they could – she had the looks, and he couldn’t blame them. But she knew better than to let them get anywhere beyond chat.
Still, if Kiera had noticed it – and she noticed very little – then he would have to look into it himself. Soldiers? Most were fools who only knew how to salute.
* * *
Spaceport
Friday 16 July
Major Sharon Temple walked up to her commanding officer’s desk and saluted smartly, wondering all the while why the general had sent for her. He didn’t like her, she knew, but she had done nothing to warrant his ire. Merely the refusal. The only possibility that came to mind – transfer. But he had as much as told her that she would spend her days in her office until she gave in or resigned her commission. She had done neither.
“Sir, Major Temple reporting, as ordered.”
General Wingrove waved a hand in acknowledgment, only a sketch of a salute, something that showed his lack of respect for her.
“At ease, Major.”
He looked her up and down, and she felt a tightness in her stomach that warred with the disgust in her mind. She almost wished that she had accepted his offer of bedtime. However, she had turned him down flat, and had suffered for it ever since – and the suffering made her adamant about not changing her mind.
“I have an assignment for you.”
And she could just imagine what kind of assignment that would be. Overseeing paper-pushers somewhere, no doubt, in some corner of Space Force that no one cared about. No matter what she did, she’d get passed over when promotion time came about.
“Yes, sir,” she replied, without batting an eye.
He tried to out-wait her, to make her ask, but she stood, determined to not let him have that final victory. Eventually, he gave in.
“You’re going up to the Family Trading League station, FTL-1, as the United States of North America Military Liaison.”
Temple blinked, but otherwise didn’t show her surprise. Many would have given their eyeteeth for that assignment. Spacetime counted. It would put her on the fast track for promotion rather than the pass-over she’d been expecting. How had this happened?
“Yes, sir. Liaise with the Families on FTL-1.” There had to be more to it than that. Again, she waited. Again, General Wingrove lost the hand.
“The Yrden ship, Venture, reported pirates on the Earth-African Nations route,” the general explained. “But we think they’re holding back information. As well as your general duties as liaison officer, we want you to investigate this. The captain of Venture, Johannes Yrden, has taken up some nebulous duty on FTL-1. Approach him. Find out what he knows – and find out what he’s doing there. The Yrdens basically run the Family Trading League, and the more we know about them the better.”
“Johannes Yrden. Right, sir.” She looked down at the datastick that the general had picked up in his hand, and had begun playing with.
“Find out if this is a demotion, if they’ve removed him from his captaincy.” He gave her another smirk-smile. “If that’s it, make sure we reel him in. If not, we need to know what he’s up to.”
He caught her looking at the datastick, and a small smile came to his face, one that hinted strongly at revenge achieved.
“You’ll find all you need in here – orders, what information we have.” He reached out and handed her the stick. “Show this to no one. Study it in the privacy room next door, then return it directly to my hand.
She accepted the stick, hating him for the perverse pleasure he took in extending the moment’s touch. Finally he released the stick to her. Before she could salute, and hopefully extricate herself from the office, he said aloud what she already knew.
“This represents a rare opportunity, Major Temple. Bring us back what we need, and you’ll find it well worth any effort you make.”
The way he said it implied that should she fail, it would kill any chance she had for promotion, would kill any chance of advancement in either rank or in position. It would, in fact, end her career. What, Sharon wondered, would she find within the file that gave the general his cat that swallowed the canary expression?
“Thank you, sir. I’ll not let Space Force down.”
His smile broadened just a bit. “That’s what we want to hear, Major. Report back as soon as you have completed your study of the file. I’ll have your travel authorizations ready at that time.”
“Yes, sir.” She gave him another smart salute, which he returned with another lazy wave of his hand.
On her way to the privacy room, she felt her hand tightening around the datastick. There had to be a catch.
* * *
An hour later, she found it. A slow fury began to build, but Sharon forced it down. To turn down the assignment after she had already accepted it would do as much damage to her career as failing at it – General Wingrove would see to that, she felt sure. Thus, she had no alternative but to go forward. And now she knew just what “any effort” truly meant.
Major Sharon Temple met Wingrove’s smirking face with a bland, expressionless one of her own.
“So,” he asked, giving her a semi-leer, “you have all the information you need?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied. “You said you’d have my travel authorization ready?”
“Of course. Here it is.” He handed her a datastick in return for the one he’d given previously. No surprise there. She also handed him her stick with her notes. He wouldn’t allow her to take anything other than her notes with her – certainly not the contents of that file. Those notes, he would vet, ensuring that nothing incriminating went with her. Of what remained behind, she had no doubt, certain elements would get rearranged so as to disguise what Wingrove asked of her.
“Your flight to FTL-1 leaves tomorrow. We have informed the Families. You’ll report to Bill Tannon; he runs the station.” He gave her a final leer. “Don’t let us down.”
“No, sir,” she said, maintaining her bland expression. “I won’t.”
Sharon saluted a final time, turned about, and left the general’s office.
Tomorrow? Her fl
ight leaves tomorrow? That didn’t give her much time. She hurried back to her office, closed any files she could, and annotated the others for the next person who would fill her position. Then she hurried back to her quarters to pack, hoping no one would rummage through what she left behind in storage, taking what they desired. It had happened before, both to her and to others she knew.
* * *
Spaceport Shuttle to FTL-1
Saturday 17 July
The roar as the rockets ignited thrilled Major Sharon Temple. The thrust sent the shuttle on its final climb, the acceleration to orbit pushing her back in her seat, leaving her gasping for breath. Finally, after all her training, after all the manoeuvring she had done, she had made it!
Space.
When the rockets faded, Sharon felt true weightlessness for the first time – not that simulated by training in a diving aircraft.
“That was something else,” she said, and blew her cheeks out, exhaling the breath she’d held. She had addressed her remark to Alice Tannon, sitting beside her. The woman had her name stitched on her suit – apparently the Families didn’t need the temp suits that everyone else used. Her own basically fit, but she would have loved one fitted for her in particular.
The older woman raised her eyebrows, then smiled. “First time?”
“First time,” Sharon agreed.
“Where are you headed?”
“FTL-1.”
Did the smile lose some of its openness?
“Visit?”
“New liaison officer.”
Yes, the smile had dimmed, and the eyes narrowed just a fraction. Her uniform hadn’t put the other woman off – she had greeted Sharon warmly when they suited up back before they had boarded – but the uniform plus destination had. Strange. But the Major had little time to consider that as she heard the announcement that they would begin a docking burn. Instead of contemplating an unknown woman’s odd expression, she busied herself figuring out how she would approach Yrden, how she could get out of doing what General Wingrove desired that she do.
The docking went without hitch, though Sharon’s stomach lurched at the return of gravity
“See you ’round the station,” Alice said, a minimum of warmth in her voice.
“I’m supposed to report to a Bill Tannon,” Sharon replied. “A relative?”
“Uncle,” Alice agreed. She hesitated, then gave her shoulders a minute shrug. “You’ll find him two levels above baggage claim. Turn left when you exit the lift. Look for ‘Administration’.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” And she did. At least the woman hadn’t made it more difficult for her by giving false info; Sharon had already studied the deck plan, and knew her immediate points of interest.
After dropping her luggage in the USNA office, she walked to ‘Administration’, where Bill Tannon greeted her with a wide smile and a wave that indicated a chair. She sat.
“Well, Major Temple, welcome to FTL-1. We’re honoured to get a major and her team. Previously, the USNA felt a captain and his aide would do the job.”
And what felt phoney about that? Tannon seemed on the up-and-up, but something in his tone left her feeling antsy. “Thank you, sir. Actually, I’m in Investigations. We understand that one of your ships reported an incident of pirating. I’m here to interview anyone I can from Venture – to go out to her if possible – and to liaise with the Family Trading League to see how we can better co-ordinate to prevent something similar from happening in the future.”
Tannon’s eyebrows went up. “Co-ordinate? The FTL isn’t in the business of pirate hunting, Major. We’re just peaceful traders. We pay you – among other governments – to patrol the space lanes. As for the incident, we passed all the information we had to Amalgamated – whose ship’s signal we downloaded from the beacon. In fact, that signal constitutes the entirety of our knowledge about the incident.”
She nodded. The FTL had not shown itself as forthcoming as Command would have liked, and Tannon seemed to wish to maintain that distance. She smiled warmly. “I’ll have some proposals after I get settled – if you can spare me some time later.”
“Always pleased to talk to a representative of the USNA.”
And that sounded like a dismissal to her. She stood, extended her hand to take his, and then left. No sense trying to drag it out.
Quarters felt the same everywhere – even in space. Sharon unpacked her clothes, and put them in the closet and drawers. Her eyes went to the latches on the small desktop. To hold her reader? Then it came to her – the station had induced gravity. If the grav-gens went unserviceable, everything not latched down would become weightless. Still, unless the station underwent some sort of collision, things should just about stay where one placed them, gravity or no.
She shrugged.
* * *
FTL-1
Saturday 17 July
“Command only today let me know your orders to take over, Major,” Captain George Grenville, said, only the tiniest bit of censure in his voice. “And, except for me and my aide, we’ve only been here for four days, ourselves.”
“I only knew of them yesterday,” Sharon replied, not wanting to antagonize the man. He remained, after all, her second in command. Command. Right. The captain, a sergeant and five privates – mostly used for ceremonial guard duty. Still, it counted as a command, and it would look good on her record.
Grenville relaxed a little at that, though he couldn’t hide his disappointment at the loss he had suffered at her hands.
“Nothing on you, Captain,” she said, seeking to bring him fully on her side. “I’m undercover on this one. When I finish my mission, they’ll no doubt recall me, and everything will return to normal.”
He nodded, eyes narrowing. How much should she give him? She gave a minute shrug. “I’m with Investigations. As you know, Amalgamated lost a ship to pirates. Command wants me to find out everything the Families know. We suspect that they’ve been less than candid.”
“Investigations?” Grenville nodded to himself. She would then have training that he didn’t. Command hadn’t demoted him, after all.
Sharon could read the thoughts flickering across his face almost as if he spoke aloud. How had this man ever obtained his position? Friends in high places? Family?
“Glad you understand. So, just to make it clear: I want you to continue with your duties as if I weren’t here.” She gave him a wry smile. “I guess I’ll have to take some of the ceremonial ones – can’t be helped.”
He smiled back. “Understood, Major.”
“Good. Now, tell me everything you know about the Yrdens.”
His eyebrows went up, but he recovered quickly. “The Yrdens. Right, sir. Only a few of them on station at this time, most in warehousing. But two of them, Johannes Yrden, Captain of Venture, and his son, Owen, stick out. The son is taking a course in their detector school. The father?” He pressed his lips together. “I don’t know about the father. I’ve made some discrete enquiries, but they fobbed me off.”
Major Temple stiffened, then relaxed as he finished.
“I didn’t press it, and then I dropped it completely.”
“Good,” she replied. “He’s my assignment. Do you know where he eats?”
* * *
Major Temple found Johannes Yrden sitting down to lunch in the FTL cafeteria. She picked up a tray, loaded it with a light repast, and went over to his table. Two other people occupied it, one a boy, or rather, young man that she recognized from Grenville’s files as his son, the other a woman that she didn’t recognize at all.
“Mind if I sit here?” she asked.
Yrden looked up, and smiled. He had a nice smile. “Not at all, Major. Perhaps we can get this over with quickly.”
So, Tannon had already warned him of her and her supposed duty. She wondered if that meant anything in particular, or if Tannon had simply done it out of courtesy. She set her tray down and sat. Everyone’s attention went to her.
“I had rathe
r hoped to catch you alone, Mr Yrden,” she said.
He laughed. “Major Temple, let me introduce you to my son, Owen Yrden. Owen, Major Temple of the United States of North America Space Force.”
“Pleased to meet you, Major,” the young Yrden said. He didn’t look happy. Had she interrupted something?
“Pleased to meet you, Mr Yrden,” she replied, keeping it formal. The young man couldn’t help but grin at that. She had no doubt that he found the formality both strange and gratifying. Records suggested that the Families operated on a very informal basis.
“You can call me Owen,” the Yrden son said with a smile, confirming that part of their files.
She smiled back, “And then you can call me Sharon.”
A look from his father saw the kid’s smile disappear. “I think I’d better call you Major Temple, Major,” he said. But his look made it clear that he’d prefer otherwise. That fit with him being separated from his mother – and growing into manhood. She might use that to her advantage. Not only that, she got the feeling that he’d get a kick out of tweaking his parent. Something else she could use?
She laughed lightly. “As you wish. Then, in public, we’ll remain strictly formal, Mr Yrden.” She turned to the woman. “And you? A Ms Yrden?”
“Helen White,” the woman answered.
Johannes Yrden stepped in. “Helen’s a professor of history at Plender University. She approached the Families, requesting that we allow her to interview some of us for a paper she’s writing on the FTL.” He pursed his lips as his eyes flicked back and forth between the two women. “So, Major, you have competition for my time.”
And another sort of competition, as well? She studied Helen without appearing to do so. Older than Yrden. Basically good looking, but not exuding sex appeal. She looked exactly as stated, an academic. Not a mid-life crisis thing, then. Grenville told her that rumours floating about the station had it that Johannes Yrden and his wife, Jaswinder, had marital problems, information that confirmed what General Wingrove’s files had suggested. Had he gone to Helen White for solace?
Not With A Whimper: Preservers Page 15
