by J. L. Doty
“Your bodyguards are rather apparent, Captain,” Fithwallen said with a smile as she and York waited.
“There are a lot of people who would like to see me dead.”
She laughed. “Yes. That is the unpleasant truth.” She played with her drink for a moment, had something on her mind. “Captain. I once offered you a job, though the circumstances were not right and you turned me down. If you get out of this alive, and you think you might be interested in making a career change, let me know.”
“There’s not much I know how to do, other than soldering.”
She smiled warmly. “We can discuss the possibilities at that time.”
A few minutes later Harshaw approached York. “This all seems in order, Captain. Nothing terribly complicated really. In return for delivering Miss Fithwallen to Borregga, she funds all of the repairs to Cinesstar. And to protect you, the ownership of all repairs reverts to the empire upon completion.”
He looked at Fithwallen and frowned. “Delivering you to Borregga?”
A side door to Danthor’s office opened suddenly, and three civilian equivalents of Palevi’s big, brawny, uglies melted into the room. They were armed, guns drawn, but Notay was fast enough to step behind Danthor, draw a gun and aim it at Fithwallen. Danthor snapped, “Hold your fire, gentlemen,” then looked at Fithwallen for further instructions, and as everyone froze York keyed his implants and whispered “Code Blue.”
Fithwallen raised her hands, palms out. “I won’t be leaving with you, Captain.”
At York’s look, she added, “Don’t worry. We had an agreement. Your end of the bargain was that you would deliver me to any location of my choice. Well, quite honestly, I don’t believe your chances are very good once you leave Borregga, so this is the location of my choice. You have kept your end of the agreement, and I’ll keep mine. And if you don’t mind, I’d like you to leave Brentin and Jandeer here also.”
Palevi’s voice came over his implants. “Blue secured.”
It was time to trust Fithwallen. “Okay,” he said, leaving his implants keyed so he was broadcasting his words. “Sergeant Notay. Secure your weapon.”
Notay complied, but Danthor hesitated to give the same order to his uglies.
“Kaiya,” Fithwallen said. “Don’t be foolish.”
He nodded to his uglies and they holstered their guns.
Fithwallen looked at York. “Tell me, Captain. What is code blue.”
York kept his eyes on Danthor. “Sergeant Palevi and his marines have secured the outer corridor and are prepared for a firefight. An assault team is standing by, in full combat armor, with heavy assault equipment, ready to cut their way into the bank and pull me out.”
Fithwallen smiled. “And I suppose the order for them to fight their way in here is code green, or red, or something like that.”
York grinned back at her and she nodded. “And knowing your marines they would be unhappy to find you in anything but the healthiest condition.”
She looked at Danthor. “You see, Kaiya, I’ve come to understand that Captain Ballin here is a thorough man.”
In the reception area Palevi’s uglies were all waiting tensely with weapons drawn, though Notay’s little accountant had Faiel face down on the floor with his hands cuffed behind his back. She was sitting on his back holding a small gun to the back of his head. York glanced at Notay and she gave him a smile and a wink.
The ride back to Cinesstar was uneventful, and contrary to York’s paranoid fears his ship was in no worse shape than when he’d left her. Rame had recalled his rumor teams, and debriefed them before York arrived. As York sat down at the captain’s console Rame told him, “A lot of conflicting rumors floating about, though they do have it right about the double-cross at Sarasan. Some rumors that involve the empress’ presence on this ship, but they’re not consistent enough to worry about. Even rumors that she was among the dead at Sarasan.”
York had an idea. “This place has to be loaded with spies and informers. Let’s make up some rumors that could help us, then send your teams out again to spread a little misinformation.”
Rame actually broke into a grin, but that disappeared. “We did get one piece of information that bothers me. Apparently, there isn’t a single Mexak ship that comes even close to carrying the kind of firepower we have. And every pirate captain in the League is scheming to gain control of her, under the assumption we’ll soon be heavily in debt for repairs. Some of them are going to be disappointed when they learn otherwise.”
York got in a short cat-nap of a few hours, was awakened by his yeoman. “There’s a call for you, Captain, from Governor Dandra.”
York took the call in his office. “Captain,” Dandra began. “I’ve been notified by Suin & Danthor that you have rather substantial credit.” Dandra’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and he paused, but when York made no comment he continued. “You may move your ship to the yards and effect whatever repairs you need. You can make the arrangements with Yard Captain Breaug.”
A few hours later Cinesstar settled into a low gravity dock in the Borreggan shipyard on another big rock. The dock was completely enclosed, a fact York disliked intensely, but he had no choice. And as the giant gates swung slowly shut, sealing Cinesstar inside, he tried not to let his paranoia win out.
There was a lot of room in the dock, however, and he immediately stationed marines in full armor all around Cinesstar, cordoning her off from any unauthorized visitors. It took another day to get it clear to Breaug and the yard crews that none of them would touch his ship. The yard would provide parts and equipment, but Cappik and his people would do all the work.
Then York had to wrestle with Cappik for a few hours to get the chief to set his sights a bit lower. With their rather substantial credit, Cappik wanted to overhaul Cinesstar from stem to stern, which would only take about three months. York gave him one tenday.
“Captain, you can’t be serious,” Cappik pleaded. “We can’t do shit in a tenday. Beggin’ yer pardon, sir.”
“Think about it, chief,” York said. “This place is full of spies and informers, and we’ve been here now for almost two days. You can bet both the empire and the Directorate now know we’re here, in pretty good shape, and getting better. And if they stay in character, they’ve already scrambled an entire armada to burn us. Remember what they did to Dumark. A tenday probably leaves us some margin for error, but not much.”
Cappik sat down and shook his head tiredly. He sat there quietly for a few long minutes, but York could see the wheels turning as he came to terms with their situation and made plans. “I guess we won’t put any time in on the computer. We’ll just load up on parts, then we can work on her later in transit. Have the department heads make shopping lists. We’ve got two places still need some serious structural work. We’ll go after that first. We can easily replace turret seven. Her mountings are still intact so that won’t take too long. Turret one and the bow are a different matter. No time to replace twenty meters of bow, but we can reinforce the structure beneath the surface, make sure the patch shielding we put there is fully effective, then mount a whole new turret. And of course we should go over the hull, patch any damage to the structure and shielding.”
He looked at York, smiled unhappily. “The old girl’s gonna have a bit of a funny shape, Captain, but she’ll work just fine, and she’ll fight good too. Power plant’s the problem, though. We did a pretty good job on the Centerline chamber at Sarasan, but it won’t hurt to go over her one more time. We’ll give priority to mounting a new Port chamber. She won’t be anything near functional when we leave, but we’ll get the heavy work done in the Yard, try and finish the rest in transit. Probably best if we just ignore Starboard, given the time we got. She’s putting out some power anyway. We can stock up on spare parts, see what we can do with her later in transit.”
“Thank you, chief,” York said. “Let me know if you need anything.”
And then the waiting began.
Bargan Abraxa watch
ed Sierka enter his office with considerable interest. Sierka stopped in front of Abraxa’s desk and saluted casually. “Your Grace,” he said, with just a hint of informality, as if they were equals. “You wished to see me.”
Juessik had warned him Sierka’s over-inflated ego could be easily bruised, so Abraxa stood to greet him. “No need for the formalities, Mayhue. I’m told you have excellent insight regarding this renegade, Ballin.”
Sierka lowered his hand carefully and smiled. “Yes, Your Grace. The traitor. He’s a maniac, a fool. And he’s dangerous.”
Abraxa stood and motioned toward a chair. “Sit down, Mayhue. Can I offer you a drink? I have some of the finest Tithian brandy here.”
Sierka sat down and beamed like a strutting rooster. “Why thank you, Your Grace.”
Abraxa poured two glasses, handed one to Sierka, took a sip and gave Sierka a moment to do likewise. “Now,” Abraxa prompted him. “You were saying about this traitorous bastard Ballin . . .”
“Yes,” Sierka said, almost snarling. “Do you realize he had the gall to think he was capable of commanding that ship? And then the empress actually took command away from me and gave it to him. Somehow he fooled her.”
Sierka went into a tirade that lasted for ten minutes. Abraxa helped him along a bit, realizing that before he could get to the crux of the matter Sierka needed to unload all of his hatred of Ballin. As Juessik had warned him, Sierka was quite unstable, and to flatter the fellow Abraxa was not above stooping to a bit of sanctimonious verbiage.
“. . . He thinks he can fool me,” Sierka snarled. “He thinks he’s smarter than me. Well he’s not. I know exactly what he’s going to do.”
Abraxa interrupted him carefully. “And what is that?”
Sierka looked at him and beamed triumphantly. “He’s coming here. What else? He’s got to come here. That’s the way he thinks.”
“Very interesting,” Archcanon Bortha said. “Do you think he’s right?”
Sierka was gone, and Abraxa had played a recording of the conversation for the churchman. “I don’t know. It’s possible, though I can’t imagine Ballin is that much of a fool.”
Bortha laughed and shook his head. “If that fool Sierka thinks Ballin’s a fool, then young Ballin is quite probably a genius.”
“Yes. Our Commander Sierka does not appear to be a good judge of character. However, I believe I have a means of evaluating his reliability.”
Abraxa touched his intercom. “Send in Colonel Juessik.”
Juessik, attired in a new uniform, stopped in front of Abraxa and bowed deeply. He turned to Bortha and repeated the bow.
“Good of you to join us, Colonel,” Abraxa said.
“I’m at your command, Your Grace.”
“Of course you are.” Abraxa played the recording of his interview with Sierka. It was fascinating to watch it again, to see the man work himself up into a state of such hysterical rage. When it was done, he gave Juessik a moment to digest it, then asked, “How reliable is he?”
Juessik glanced at Bortha. At a slight nod from Abraxa he shook his head and said, “Not very. Sierka is incompetent, nearly got us all killed several times. I notice he managed to blame everything on Ballin, using what was often rather twisted logic, though it occurs to me when we get our hands on Ballin we can use that same logic ourselves to dispose of him via court-martial.”
Abraxa nodded. “Good idea, Colonel. That may come in handy.”
“As to Ballin,” Juessik continued, “he knows how to run a ship, can be quite ruthless when he believes there’s a need, and he’s not afraid to take chances. But contrary to Sierka’s opinion, Ballin is no fool.”
Bortha leaned forward. “Then you don’t think Ballin’ll come here.”
“I didn’t mean that, Your Eminence. Sierka is an unmitigated fool, but he’s so obsessed with Ballin there’s a chance he does truly understand the man. It won’t hurt to take a few precautions just in case Sierka is correct.”
Abraxa watched Bortha nod, thinking he should have gotten rid of the whore’s brat long ago. If Ballin did come to Luna, Abraxa would have to play a careful game. If the emperor got involved, or the nobility got wind of the situation, it could make things difficult. Abraxa could take precautions concerning Ballin, but as for the emperor, perhaps it was time to take tighter control of that situation.
It occurred to him that while Sierka was a fool, with careful manipulation he could still be useful. Abraxa decided not to have him killed, at least not until he knew to a certainty Ballin was dead.
While Cappik was busy with the repairs York had nothing to do, so he spent a lot of hours sitting at his console on the bridge, reviewing every damage report as it was filed. It was Rame who approached him, leaned close and whispered, “Beggin yer pardon, sir, but you’re making everyone nervous.” York went to his cabin and hid.
At the end of the tenday Cappik wasn’t ready. York hadn’t really expected them to finish that quickly, but he wanted everyone to feel the pressure, so he grudgingly doled out the extra days shift by shift. After twelve days they were ready.
“Captain,” Gant said. “There’s something suspicious here.”
York had called Breaug about an hour earlier, made arrangements to disembark. Then he’d released Richard, but as the pirate left the ship he said, “I thought we was gonna get along better’n this, Cap’em. We’d of made a good team, you an’ me.”
“What is it, Miss Gant?” York asked.
“I left a couple of drones outside before they locked us in this dock. Thought it might be good to have eyes out there, sir.” A scan summary flashed on one of York’s screens, a jumbled mess of dots scattered randomly. Gant highlighted one green. “That’s this rock we’re on, sir. The rest are other rocks around us. Except maybe these . . .”
She highlighted five more red dots, evenly spaced around the shipyard asteroid. “I’m getting some low level transition noise from these five, something like the stuff a ship emits if it’s in a holding pattern.”
York made a call to Cappik. “Looks like our pirate friends are going to try something funny.”
Cappik grinned. They’d carefully discussed that possibility. “You got full combat status right now, sir.”
“Thank you Mister Cappik. Mister Rame, sound General Quarters, Watch Condition Red.”
The alert klaxon blared and the ship went through the well-rehearsed ritual. York waited until everyone was on station and Rame cut the alert klaxon, then he placed a call to Breaug, but Breaug didn’t answer. Instead, Kruhl appeared on his screen, seated in the Yard control room, with Richard standing behind him. “Captain Kruhl,” York said. “Where’s Yard Captain Breaug?”
Kruhl grinned. “Well now, Captain. Breaug ain’t available. But he asked me to fill in, help you complete your application to the Mexak League, so’s you can leave.”
“I don’t intend to join the League. Open the gates.”
Behind Kruhl, Richard also grinned. “I’m sorry, Captain, but the gates seem to be malfunctioning at the moment.”
York grinned back at him. “Well perhaps I can repair them.
“Mister Jakobee,” York said calmly, leaving the channel open so the two pirates could hear him. “Open those gates.”
York had instructed Jakobee carefully. Cinesstar’s turrets swung toward the gates. “Continuous fire,” Jakobee ordered, and Cinesstar rocked under the impact of the barrage. The gates were only about fifty meters from the hull, and York watched the shielding draw power as the explosions splattered her with debris. When the debris settled, the hole in the gates was large enough for Cinesstar to maneuver through.
“Very impressive,” Kruhl said, maintaining his grin, though it was now strained. “But as I said, it won’t do you any good.”
York grinned back at him. “Yes. I know. Your five ships.”
Kruhl’s grin disappeared and he looked angrily over his shoulder at Richard. Richard shrugged.
“Mr. Jakobee,” York said, “stage t
wo.”
Jakobee said, “Warhead away,” and touched a switch on his console. One wall of the Yard erupted in a fountain of debris and the entire rock shook as the warhead, launched almost at transition velocity, ground its way through the rock of the asteroid.
“You’re insane,” Kruhl shouted, his grin gone.
York didn’t grin, just nodded. “You’re not the first person who’s told me that. That was a one gigatonne warhead. We buried it in the center of this rock.”
Kruhl looked over his shoulder at Richard. “I thought you said this would be easy.”
“Mister Jakobee,” York continued. “How’s our warhead.”
“She checks out just fine, sir, though I missed dead center by about a kilometer.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mister Jakobee. Go to stage three.”
Kruhl demanded, “What the fuck is stage three?”
York kept his voice level and calm. “We’ve armed and fused that warhead remotely, and set it up on a deadman signal. That warhead should crack this rock into quite a number of pieces. It’ll kill us all.”
Kruhl screamed, “You’re bluffing.”
Richard leaned forward and growled into Kruhl’s ear. “I don’t think he is, Sefath. He’s just fuckin’ nuts.”
Kruhl looked at York uncertainly. “It’s your call,” York told him plainly. “Tell those ships to power up and get out of here. Otherwise, I’ll lift out of here, get as much distance as I can between us and this rock before your ships get to me, then I blow you to hell. We’ll probably go with you, but I’m willing to take my chances, which are a lot better than yours.”
Richard growled, “He ain’t bluffin’, Sefath.”
“Oh shut up!” Kruhl shouted. He looked at York. “All right, Ballin. But how do I know you won’t kill us anyway, after you’re out of range.”
“You’ll just have to trust me. Besides, I don’t want to kill Breaug and the Yard crews. I’m assuming they weren’t part of this. Come to think of it, release Breaug now. I want to speak to him.”
