Silent Order_Master Hand

by Jonathan Moeller

  As it turned out, she was right.

  Chapter 2: November

  Later that evening, March walked through the docking concourse of Calaskar Station.

  Calaskar Station was huge, the largest space-based installation in the Kingdom, a hub of interstellar commerce and traffic. Nine docking rings encircled the station’s massive central cylinder, and hundreds of ships docked at and departed from the station on any given day. Something like a hundred thousand people lived and worked on the station, and it was the central hub for both intra-system and interstellar passenger and commercial traffic.

  March walked through the docking concourse, threading his way through the crowds. The concourse was a massive corridor of brushed, gleaming steel, with cargo airlocks lining both walls. Large screens hung on the walls between the cargo airlocks, showing station information, religious programming from the Royal Church of Calaskar, and documentaries about Calaskaran history and culture. March was amused to see Adelaide presenting one of those documentaries, clad in a black jacket and a shin-length black skirt that was just snug enough to meet the standards of propriety. He was always struck by the difference between her public persona and the real woman.

  Then he reached the Tiger’s airlock, and March put aside thoughts of his girlfriend.

  Another woman was waiting for him, and not one he wanted to meet.

  “Captain March,” said Dr. Anna Siegfried, gripping her wheeled suitcase.

  “Dr. Siegfried,” said March, assessing her appearance. She looked quite a bit better than the last time he had seen her, but she still did not seem terribly healthy. She had been pale before, but now her pallor had a sickly edge, and she looked as if the effort of standing upright was the limit of her strength.

  Anna Siegfried was not someone he wanted to accompany him to a place as dangerous as Burnchain Station.

  But orders were orders.

  She held out her hand, and March shook it. Her fingers felt thin and cold, and he took care not to shake it with too much force.

  “Before we start,” said Dr. Siegfried, “I want to thank you for my life. The doctors said that if you hadn’t stabilized me, I would have died in another twelve hours at the most.”

  “You’re looking better,” said March, which he supposed was true.

  Dr. Siegfried grimaced. “I had three surgeries, and I have a brand-new vat-grown stomach and intestinal tract. The fact that I am alive at all is a minor miracle.” A haunted look came into the icy blue eyes. “Maybe I’ve been given a second chance to make up for my mistakes.”

  “Maybe,” said March, who did not want to get into a philosophical discussion.

  “I know you have reservations about taking me on this mission, Captain March,” said Siegfried, “but I can assure you, my expertise is necessary for the completion of this mission. Furthermore, I also expect you to follow my instructions to the letter, and…”

  “Dr. Siegfried,” said March. She blinked at him, affronted. He suspected that a full professor of the University of Mercator did not get interrupted all that often. “This is not the place to discuss it.”

  She started to scowl at him, but then looked around, an expression of chagrin going over her face. “Yes, I suppose you are right. Please lead the way, Captain March.”

  March nodded and unlocked the cargo airlock.

  It was going to be a long trip to Alexandria Station.

  ###

  A few hours later, March sat in the pilot’s acceleration seat in the flight cabin, checking over the engine displays one last time. The hyperdrive and the dark matter reactor were functioning at peak efficiency, the resonator coils showed no faults, and the life support systems, inertial absorbers, and gravitics were all operating within acceptable parameters.

  He sighed, locked his console, and stood up.

  “Vigil,” said March. “ETA to our exit point from hyperspace?”

  “Two hours, nineteen minutes to our terminus point in the Vanguard system,” said Vigil. The Vanguard system had no habitable planets, but there were several gas mining installations in the solar system, along with numerous space stations, and the Royal Calaskaran Navy had a base there. March did not expect any trouble.

  “Acknowledged,” said March. “Notify me if anything changes.”

  It was time to have a talk with Anna Siegfried. He paused, checked the pistol on his belt, and nodded to himself.

  March left the flight cabin, locked the door behind him, and headed for the galley. He found Dr. Siegfried sitting at the galley’s table, sipping a cup of coffee and frowning at a tablet computer.

  “Captain March,” said Siegfried as he sat across from her.

  “We’ve begun our first hyperjump,” said March. “We should be at the Alexandra system in another three days to pick up the next member of our team. Is your cabin satisfactory?”

  Siegfried started to grimace but stopped herself. “Well…it is adequate. This ship was built by Mercator Foundry Yards, and their light freighters never focused upon comfort.”

  “They did not,” said March. “We’re in hyperspace now, which means this is an excellent time to discuss our mutual mission.”

  “Yes,” said Siegfried. “Yes. I don’t really see why you had to interrupt me on the concourse. I doubt anyone could have overheard us.”

  “Anyone could have overheard us,” said March. “Long-range microphones are cheap and easy to conceal. To be blunt, Dr. Siegfried, we are about to go somewhere dangerous and attempt something risky. There is no such thing as excessive caution on a mission like this.”

  Some injured pride came to life in her sickly face. “I know you think I’m going to be a liability, but you need my help. I’m the only one who knows how to render the biomorphic fungi inert. That’s the only way to dispose of it safely.” She leveled a finger at him. “Furthermore, my government and your government have requested that we work together to prevent a diplomatic incident between Calaskar and Mercator. Granted, I don’t know why the Kingdom of Calaskar farmed this job out to a privateer,” they hadn’t told Siegfried that March was with the Silent Order, “but you will work with me to see this done, and you will follow my instructions. Is that clear, Captain March?”

  “Perfectly,” said March. “I will defer to your expertise. However, I am in charge of this mission. And you will defer to my expertise when the time comes.”

  Siegfried smiled. She managed to make it condescending. “What is your area of expertise? Privateering? Preparing cargo manifests?”

  “Violence,” said March.

  “I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Siegfried. “The Mercatorian government has given me access to a credit line. We can probably purchase the fungi back without resorting to violence.”

  “That’s not the point,” said March. “Burnchain Station is an extremely dangerous place.”

  Siegfried shrugged. “They’re just criminals. They want bribes.”

  “If they thought they could get away with it,” said March, “they would sell you the fungi, then steal the money and the fungi back and sell you to Kezredite slavers.”

  “I rather doubt that,” said Siegfried. She looked offended. “And I can handle myself.”

  “Can you?” said March.

  “I most certainly can,” said Siegfried.

  He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. But if Siegfried wasn’t going to become a liability to the mission, he needed to lay down some ground rules right now.

  In answer, March drew the plasma pistol from his belt and pointed it at her chest. He did it so fast that she didn’t realize what he had done for a second, and then she flinched, her pale eyes going wide. She might have been arrogant, but she wasn’t stupid, and she had just realized that she was alone with an armed man who was much stronger than she was.

  “Captain March!” said Siegfried. “What is the meaning…”

  “You’ve already been shot twice,” said March, “and I don’t think you’ve learned anything from it. Mayb
e a third time will drive the lesson home.”

  He squeezed the trigger, and Siegfried screamed and covered her face.

  Nothing happened.

  Slowly, she lowered her hands, breathing hard and staring at him.

  “Look,” said March, turning the pistol so she could see the empty place where the power pack should have been. “No power pack. It’s harmless.”

  Siegfried took a deep breath, and then another. “Why…why did you do that?”

  “Because it was obvious,” said March. “It was incredibly obvious. If you had any experience of weapons at all, you would have spotted the missing power pack at once. But you don’t. And we’re about to deal with some of the most ruthless operators in human space. You have to follow my lead, do you understand? I’ve dealt with these people before, and I’m still alive. You haven’t. I’ll be blunt. The last time you dealt with violence, you ended up with your ship wrecked, your crew executed, and two plasma wounds to your stomach. What I want is for us to fulfill our mission and for you to get back home to Mercator in one piece.”

  Siegfried said nothing. March fished the pistol’s power pack out of his jacket and slapped it back into place.

  “See?” he said. “Now it’s loaded. It’s an important difference to learn.”

  She took a shaky breath. “You have a knack for making your point.”

  “Sometimes.”

  Siegfried blinked at him, and he had the impression that she was trying not to cry. “Was that really necessary?”

  “It was,” said March, returning his gun to its holster. “There are two ways to learn something. The easy way, and the hard way. I would rather you learn things the easy way. In this kind of business, learning something the hard way is usually fatal.”

  “Why is Burnchain Station so dangerous?” said Siegfried.

  “What do you know about it?” said March.

  She shrugged. “Just that it’s an illegal market, moves around.”

  “There’s more to it than that,” said March. “The Masters of Burnchain Station sell absolutely anything to anyone, so long as they have the money. Weapons of mass destruction. Assassinations or kidnappings, they’ll arrange them for a cut of the price. Mercenary armies. Pirate hits. Slaves and enslaved prostitutes of any species or age. They are some of the most ruthless and dangerous people in human space. They have their fingers in a lot of different businesses.” March shrugged. “That’s why Burnchain Station moves around, and why you can only do business there if you’re invited. If the Masters stayed in one place, the Kingdom of Calaskar or the Falcon Republic would hunt them down and kill them.”

  “And this is where the Agotanni Pirates are going to sell the fungi,” said Siegfried.

  “It’s where the Masters are going to auction off the fungi to the highest bidder,” said March. “They’re a trusted neutral third party for a lot of pirate gangs, slave traders, and dictatorships.”

  “We have to get those canisters back,” said Siegfried. “The biomorphic fungi cannot fall into the hands of a pirate lord or a petty warlord. The amount of harm they could do with the weapon is incalculable.”

  She was right. Though the Machinists could do far worse with the fungi.

  “If it’s so dangerous,” said March, “why did you dig it up?”

  She gave him a brittle smile. “We found the canisters by accident. I wasn’t looking for weapons, but since we found them, we might as well have studied them back on Mercator. I suppose a man like you thinks the study of history is a waste of time.” March said nothing. “It is worthwhile for its own sake, but we had a more practical application. The medical technology of the Fifth Terran Empire was far superior to our own. Think of what we could accomplish if we could rediscover some of that technology. All the diseases we could cure. Maybe we could even find the secret of physical immortality at last.”

  March shook his head. “Everything dies, Dr. Siegfried.”

  A hint of her condescending smile returned. “Let me guess. You’re a good member of the Royal Church of Calaskar, and all men must die so they can join Jesus Christ in paradise.”

  “You’re an atheist, I assume?” said March. Given that atheism was the official position of the Mercatorian government, it wasn’t a surprise.

  “Of course,” said Siegfried. “It is the only rational and scientific position. Granted, the Royal Church is far preferable to, say, most of the Kezredite sects. But still. Religion is a superstition, and even after a hundred thousand years of interstellar travel, we have been unable to free ourselves from it.” She raised an eyebrow. “What do you think, Captain March?”

  March wasn’t sure. Most of the time he thought there was a God, though he didn’t know if God cared about humanity or not. Sometimes he wondered if God actively hated humanity and allowed men like the Machinists or the Masters of Burnchain Station to prosper. Still, the Machinists hated the Royal Church of Calaskar, and March hated the Machinists, so he had joined the Kingdom of Calaskar and the Royal Church. The Royal Church taught that men should forgive each other their sins in the name of God. The Machinists taught that the unfit would be put to death and humanity joined in a single hive mind that would exterminate all alien races and conquer the universe.

  March preferred the Royal Church’s position.

  Adelaide was far more religious than March was. She prayed every night and went to church every week, sometimes more. He wondered if she had been like that before the death of her husband and child.

  “I think it doesn’t matter what you and I believe,” said March. “I think we have a job to do and we should focus on that.”

  “You are a very practical man, Captain March,” said Siegfried, studying him.

  “I’ve found that results matter far more than intentions,” said March.

  “You may be right,” said Siegfried. “I intended to bring relics back to Mercator for scientific study.” The lines in her face seemed to deepen. “Instead I have put weapons of mass destruction into the hands of criminals.”

  March got to his feet. “Then we’ll work on getting better results.”

  “Captain March?”

  He paused at the door. “Yes?”

  She swallowed and looked away. “Thank you for not making that lesson any harder than it had to be.”

  March nodded and left the galley

  ###

  Three days later, the Tiger arrived at the Alexandria system.

  March had not seen much of Dr. Siegfried during the trip, which suited him just fine, and he suspected that it suited her as well. He had seen her in the galley, where she showed him two of the empty canisters that the Howard Carter had found with the nine canisters that contained the biomorphic fungi. The canisters, she explained, generated an electromagnetic field that contained the fungi, and a stasis field that kept it inert. If the canister was breached, the fungi would automatically configure itself to become a lethal plague that targeted every living thing within reach, a plague that would spread quickly. Each canister also had a memory card slot that had allowed the officers of the Fifth Empire to plug programmed configurations into the fungi.

  “I have a deactivation card here,” said Siegfried, holding up a small plastic folder about two inches across. “If I plug this into the memory card slot, the canister’s systems will disable the fungus and render it inert.”

  “Good,” said March. Regardless of what Siegfried did or claimed, he decided to dump the canisters into a star before this was done. Her information could be wrong. Or she could be lying to him in hopes of taking a sample of the fungi back to Mercator.

  Other than discussions about the mission, she kept to herself. March did not have cameras in the Tiger’s cabins, but he could monitor her computer terminal access, and she spent most of her time accessing the ship’s library of videos.

  A few times he heard her crying through the cabin door. It was another reason he had not wanted her on this mission. Clearly, she was still mourning the loss of her friends and co
lleagues aboard the Howard Carter, and that grief could impair her judgment at a critical moment.

  But orders were orders, and three days after leaving Calaskar Station, they arrived at Alexandria Station.

  The Alexandria system was one of the chief systems of the Kingdom of Calaskar, its third planet habitable and populated with billions of people. There were various mining and industrial colonies on the moons of its gas giants and the inner rocky planets, and the chief commercial and traffic hub was Alexandria Station, five massing docking rings encircling the squat central cylinder. Freighters and cargo haulers moved back and forth, and two destroyers of the Calaskaran Royal Navy kept watch over the station, along with a squadron of Quarrel-class interceptor starfighters.

  The Tiger’s hyperjump had put it ten million kilometers from Alexandria Station, and March guided the ship towards the installation. With ten million kilometers for the fusion drive to cover, he had ample time to bring up his credentials and docking request and send them to station control. He waited, watching the sensor display for any trouble, and a message ping came through. It was an acknowledgment from station control, and March spent a few minutes talking to a traffic control officer and waiting through the lightspeed lag. Eventually, he received a docking port on the station’s outer ring.

  As he steered the Tiger towards the station, another message notification came through. March looked at the metadata and blinked in surprise. It had come from Alexandria III’s tachyon-entanglement relay, which meant it had been forwarded from Calaskar itself.

  March felt himself smile.

  The message was from Adelaide.

  It was text-only, and it was long. Adelaide did like to write. She said how much she missed him, how she knew he would do well with the mission, and she had enough experience of covert operations not to mention anything specific.

  But she was direct about how much she missed him. Explicit, even, about the specific kinds of physical intimacy she missed.

  He was touched…but a little concerned. The Royal University of Calaskar had morality guidelines for its employees, and a professor caught having an affair outside of marriage could be fired. Granted, Adelaide was a widow and March had never been married, so the rules weren’t quite as strict, especially since she wasn’t sleeping with another professor or a student. But her popularity and financial success had earned her several enemies on the faculty, and if this message leaked, they would use it against her.