by J. L. Doty
“Cinesstar, we see nothing at those coordinates. Please confirm.”
McGeahn looked again at York, but this time he shook his head. Borregga wouldn’t be happy until they could see something that agreed with what McGeahn was telling them. York touched a switch on his console. “Cappik. Full combat status. Gravity, shields, the works.”
As the gravity came up and York settled under his own weight, the electronic activity around Borregga shot right off the scale.
“Yer crazy,” the Borreggan tech shouted. “You can’t attack us.”
“Miss McGeahn,” York said. “I’ll take it from here.”
He spoke carefully. “This is Captain York Ballin, commanding H.M.S. Cinesstar. We are not attacking you. Andyne-Borregga is a free port, and this ship wishes merely to avail itself of her facilities.”
“You’re nuts,” the tech shouted back. “Impers don’t come here. You can’t—”
The link went silent, then a different, calmer voice took over. “This is Antolla Breaug, Yard Captain, Borregga Yard. I’ve heard of you, Ballin. What’s the empire want here?”
York was walking a narrow legal line. “The empire wants nothing here,” he said. “But my relationship with my superiors has deteriorated somewhat, and I’m told Borregga, as a free port, can provide facilities on an independent basis.”
Richard leaned close to York’s ear, “I know Breaug. Let me talk to ‘im, Cap’em.”
York nodded, switched Richard’s headset into the connection. “Breaug. This here’s Richard. Get hold of Dandra and Kruhl. Tell ‘em we got us a new fish. And what a fish we got!”
“Richard?” Breaug demanded. “What the hell are you doing on an imperial warship? And why should I believe you anyway? You ran out on your docking fees again.”
That set the tone of the conversation. Yarmin Dandra turned out to be the elected Governor General of Andyne-Borregga, while Sefath Kruhl was the Chairman of the Mexak League. Before all was said and done both men had joined the conversation, and while Richard’s freewheeling style made it impossible to completely reach an agreement—which was exactly what York wanted—they did get some basic terms in place, and York learned quite a bit.
Kruhl was the number one pirate in the Mexak League, and a powerful man. Borregga was a large commercial concern, independent of the Mexak League, and Dandra was her duly elected governor. It became obvious his first concern was Borregga, and not the League, and after watching him face down Kruhl on a few points of contention, it was clear he was the man they had to satisfy.
Richard told them about the double-cross at Sarasan—which was why York had him on hand—and that appeared to ease Dandra’s concerns a bit. Richard also made a lot of noise about York applying for membership in the League, reminded them pointedly he was the infamous Butcher Ballin. That clearly pleased Kruhl, but not Dandra. For his part, York was careful to agree only to pay for docking fees and all services, and to abide by Borregga’s regulations for a foreign ship in port—they transmitted a copy to York. He carefully avoided discussing or agreeing to apply for membership in the Mexaks, though Richard assumed he would and spoke of it often and loudly. Such talk generated a lot of strange, side-long glances from York’s crew.
Once Dandra was satisfied York’s intentions were unofficial and purely commercial, they were given clearance for docking, and one day to establish some sort of credit. And then, with poor Eldinow at the helm, they spent the next several hours maneuvering through the asteroid belt to a zero gravity berth in the main docks on one of the largest asteroids. They spotted several asteroids with considerable capability in the firepower department.
“Cappik,” York barked into his implants. “ Don’t power down. Maintain full combat status indefinitely and until further notice.”
“Commander Rame, you have the bridge.” York stood up from the captain’s console. Rame saluted him and sat down in his place. York looked at him carefully. “Keep this ship on alert until you hear from me. No one on or off without my express permission.”
York looked at Palevi and hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Put Richard here back on ice, Sergeant.”
Palevi grinned, grabbed Richard by an arm. “Aye, aye, sir.”
Richard squawked, “But we had a deal, Captain.”
York gave him a Palevi style grin. “And I’ll keep my end of it. But not until I’m absolutely sure you’ve kept yours. I assume it won’t trouble you to wait another day or two while I make sure of that.”
“Okay, Cap’em,” Richard said, as if he had a choice in the matter. Then he grinned and nodded. “I think you and me understand each other real good, Cap’em.”
Once Richard was out of ear shot, York turned to Rame again. “Olin, pick a couple of people you trust, smart ones. Send them out in civilian clothing, as if they’re on leave from some ship. They ought to be able to find a bar or two, have a drink or two, buy a drink or two for someone with a big mouth, see what rumors are floating about, see what they can learn.”
“Good idea,” Rame said. “But why don’t I send out three or four teams? They’ll learn more, and they can track each other, back each other up if there’s any trouble.”
“Good idea.”
Fithwallen, Omasin and Faiel were waiting for him in Fithwallen’s cabin. York told them, “We’re docked in Borregga, but Dandra won’t give us a spot in their repair yard until we establish some sort of credit. They’re obviously assuming I’ll do that by going straight to the Mexaks. And we have twenty hours to do otherwise.”
“Why Captain,” Fithwallen said, chuckling. “I’m impressed. I’ve always been given to believe career military personnel were incapable of creative thinking, especially creative lying.”
York frowned at her, not sure how to take her remark. “Right now we’re sitting at a loading dock running up fees. So what next?”
“I’ll call my office here and order us a car to run us over to the bank. We can have this matter cleared up within the hour.”
“Where is this bank?”
“It’s on one of the other asteroids.”
York shook his head. “We’ll take one of our . . .” York almost said gunboats, “. . . marine shuttles.”
“Fine. But I should call ahead.”
York keyed his implants. “Olin, this is York. Miss Fithwallen needs to make a call to her bank. Please arrange it for her.” York didn’t need to tell Rame to monitor the call closely.
To Fithwallen he said, “I’ll meet you down on Hangar Deck in ten minutes. The marines outside your cabin will show you the way.”
She smiled and he left. Out in the corridor he gave quick instructions to the two marines, then keyed his implants and spoke while walking. “Palevi, this is Ballin. I want an assault team of twenty marines ready on the double, in full combat armor. Put Yagell in charge of them, and make sure they’ve got whatever equipment might be necessary to break into a bank under fire.”
“We gonna rob a bank, Cap’em?” Palevi asked with a certain amount of anticipation in his voice.
“No, I’m going into one. And if, for some reason, they decide not to let me out, I want your people ready to change their minds. But they’re going to have to stay hidden in Two until and unless they’re needed. I also need a visible escort, say ten more of your people in light kit—with visible sidearms but without armor. And make them your biggest and brawniest and ugliest, with you in charge.”
“Am I big and brawny and ugly, Cap’em?”
“You do qualify for ugly, Sergeant. Next, I want Notay and four of your best people—smart ones—all armed to the teeth, but nothing that shows. And put them all in navy uniforms, brand new ones. And make Notay an officer. She’s now Lieutenant Notay, my chief accountant, and the four with her are her staff. Try to pick people that look like accountants, whatever accountants look like. With me will be Sarra Fithwallen, Brentin Omasin, Jandeer Faiel, and Thomas Harshaw. Of the four marines, assign one to each of the four, with Notay assigned to me. None of
them are to ever let their assignment out of their sight. And make sure whomever you assign to Faiel is good—Faiel’s a pro. You got all that?”
“You bet ya, sir. Sounds like we’re gonna have some fun.”
“No, Sergeant, I doubt it. Probably won’t be any fighting at all.”
CHAPTER 31: ANDYNE-BORREGGA
Councilor Ard’dha’sit, primary seat of the Kinathin delegation to the Directorate General Council, waited impatiently for the shuttle to settle into its docking berth. He was tempted to reread the private communiqué from Add’kas’adanna, but he already knew its contents well, and doing so would only upset him further.
It had come to him in a most unusual fashion, carried by a young sublegion who had been personally instructed by Add’kas’adanna to hand deliver the message directly. After dismissing the sublegion Ard’dha’sit had opened the packet, and found, to his surprise, an envelope and a message hand written on paper, not coded onto a computer card. No one but Ard’dha’sit was to know of the envelope, and it was to be opened only in the event of Add’kas’adanna’s death. And then, only a few days later, he had received word of Add’kas’adanna’s death. There was kith’ain debt between them.
The true message contained within the envelope had upset and confused him terribly. Add’kas’adanna had invoked the kith’ain debt between them, and had written of her concern that Ninda was close to killing her kith’ain. There were implications of a devious political plot, and a request that Ard’dha’sit investigate her death carefully. And the circumstances of her death: her flagship torpedoed without a fight while orbiting a strategically unimportant imperial base in an apparent effort to search out and capture one, lone imperial ship. All under the orders of Ninda.
The hull of the shuttle echoed with the clang of the docking boom. Ard’dha’sit was on his feet immediately and headed for the air-lock, catching his aid off-guard. The crew of the shuttle sensed Ard’dha’sit’s impatience, so they cleared the air-lock quickly.
A young, female DCO lieutenant met him on the other side of the air-lock, bowed deeply. “Councilor Ard’dha’sit. Director Ninda is awaiting your arrival. I’ll escort you to him immediately.” She glanced questioningly at Ard’dha’sit’s personal bodyguard of six breeds.
“They will accompany me,” Ard’dha’sit said, and she nodded.
Ard’dha’sit instructed the bodyguard to wait outside Ninda’s office; he was not surprised to find Kaffair and Zort waiting with Ninda. They all rose and greeted him, smiles on their faces, but Ard’dha’sit could see the tension and fear hidden beneath the surface. Add’kas’adanna had told him about each of them: devious Ninda; spineless Zort; pragmatic Kaffair. “And where’s Theara?” Ard’dha’sit demanded, interrupting the pleasantries.
Kaffair spread his hands. “She’s been missing for some time now, though we have no proof of her death so we haven’t replaced her.”
He was lying about something.
Ninda smiled insincerely. “And now we are faced with the most untimely death of Director Add’kas’adanna.” Somehow, even while stating the obvious, Ninda lied. Ard’dha’sit began to understand why Add’kas’adanna often found working with these people so distasteful. “But Councilor, by withdrawing all Kinathin warships from DCO control you’ve seriously disrupted operations throughout the Directorate. And furthermore, by forming those ships into a single armada, and bringing them here with you, stationing them not half a light-year from this very facility . . . Well, I must protest.”
Of course, you must, Ard’dha’sit thought. Especially since my armada outnumbers the ships you have in this system ten to one. But he didn’t voice that thought. “Your protest is noted. However, the circumstances surrounding Add’kas’adanna’s death are under question, and until the matter has been resolved, all Kinathin units will remain under the direct control of the Kinathin Delegation. Furthermore, the Kinathin Delegation has withdrawn from the General Council, also pending a satisfactory determination of the circumstances surrounding the death of Director Add’kas’adanna.”
Zort’s eyes darted from side to side. So far he’d said nothing, but he had guilt written all over his features. That, more than anything, decided Ard’dha’sit’s hand. He touched the throat mike sewn into the collar of his councilor’s robes, spoke three words in Kinathin battlespeak. Only a heartbeat later the door opened and one of his bodyguards entered, leveling her sidearm at the three Directors. In battlespeak she said, “We have secured the outer vestibule, My Lord. Marshal Sin’bos’menna reports she is transiting into the system now, and with the armada behind her she should have the system secure within the hour.”
Ninda demanded, “What’s going on here?”
At the tone in Ninda’s voice the bodyguard tensed, but in battlespeak Ard’dha’sit cautioned her to remain calm. To Ninda he said, “I and the Kinathin Armada are going out to personally investigate Add’kas’adanna’s death. And it is only appropriate the three of you accompany me. You will, of course, be allowed to bring your own retinue, and to maintain communication with your subordinates.”
Palevi chose his marines well. Yagell and her twenty in full armor were nicely hidden in the troop compartment behind the back bulkhead in Two. Palevi and his ten were appropriately big, and brawny, and ugly, and their sidearms were very visible, and there was no doubt they would do a good job of upholding the rather unpleasant reputation of imperial marines. And Notay turned out to be an actress of star quality. She’d tied her short hair back into a bun, managed to look strict and severe and accountant-like. The four with her did a pretty good job of acting also, though York wasn’t sure if they fooled Faiel.
York wanted everything nice and legal, so Harshaw was his legal council. York had briefed Harshaw several days ago, and the man had spent the intervening time pouring through Cinesstar’s library files on naval law. Oddly enough, York trusted the man more than any other civilian.
Somehow Harshaw had scrounged up a business suit and a brief case. “Have to look the part, Captain,” he said in response to York’s glance.
“How do we stand legally?”
“There’s nothing that prohibits the commander of a ship from independently contracting for her repairs, nor any prohibitions regarding Borregga, nor any prohibition against independently financing said repairs, as long as you don’t enter into any agreement that conflicts with your duties.” Harshaw raised a questioning eyebrow at him.
York shook his head. “Don’t worry about that. That’s taken care of.”
Fithwallen and Omasin and Faiel arrived in short order. They looked rather skeptically at Notay and her accountants. Omasin frowned at Palevi and the escort of ten armed marines. “Is that necessary, Captain? Borregga is really quite civilized.”
York looked at him and grimaced. “There’s still a reward of one million crowns on my head.”
“Ah! I had forgotten about that.”
Fithwallen added, “I do have the resources to insure your safety on Borregga.”
“Thank you all the same, but I prefer to do my own insuring.”
Fithwallen smiled and looked at the marines. “You know, you’re only going to enhance your image with such a retinue.”
“What image?” he asked.
She shook her head sadly. “Don’t be naive, Captain.”
The short hop to the bank in Two was a bit strange. While the major hunks of rock in the asteroid belt were spaced thousands of kilometers apart, in astronomical terms it was a tight fit. York watched the screens all the way; saw a lot of small boats traveling back and forth between rocks. Borregga was indeed a thriving metropolis.
The bank was on an ovular rock about thirty kilometers in diameter named Gibraou. The president of the bank, Mr. Kaiya Danthor, met them at Gibraou’s shuttle station. He was a small, rather officious man, who stopped just short of offering to act as Sarra Fithwallen’s personal carpet. He was surprised by the size of York’s retinue, but when Fithwallen introduced York as the famous Captain Ba
llin, Danthor nodded, glanced at the ten armed marines and said, “Ah yes! There are rumors all over the rocks about you and your ship, Captain. I dare say that incident at Sarasan was a rather unpleasant business.”
York looked at his watch. “How do they know about that? We’ve only been in Borreggan nearspace for ten hours.”
“News travels fast, Captain, though in the finer details most of the rumors are somewhat incorrect. I, of course, have other, more reliable, sources of information.”
Danthor ordered up a small fleet of cars to drive them all to the Borreggan branch of Suin & Danthor, a bank apparently owned by a company owned by another company owned by Fithwallen. As they split up into the cars York pulled Notay aside, asked her, “Who have you got assigned to Faiel?”
Notay inclined her head toward a rather attractive, but small, female marine, the top of whose head barely reached Faiel’s chest. At York’s frown, Notay said, “Don’t let Calla’s size fool you, Captain.”
The cars Danthor ordered up were small, electrically driven transports that carried four passengers comfortably. The ride to the bank was about a kilometer through busy streets. At the bank they were escorted through a side entrance into a large, private reception area obviously not used by the general public. There, Danthor, looking at Fithwallen, said, “Shall we adjourn to my office?”
She nodded and looked at Faiel. “Jandeer. Why don’t you and Brentin remain here? Captain Ballin and I have a few details to discuss with Mister Danthor.”
York brought Notay and Harshaw. The two marines assigned to Fithwallen and Harshaw hesitated uncertainly until York said, “That’s all right. You can stay here.” Then he glanced at Palevi, keyed his implants and whispered, “No one in or out.”
In Danthor’s office the banker offered them all a drink. York and Fithwallen accepted while the rest declined. Harshaw and Danthor went to work immediately, while Fithwallen and York stayed in the background. Notay, staying in character, pretended to listen in on Harshaw and Danthor, though York noticed she constantly scanned the room.
