by Grant, Peter
“I’ll be glad to issue temporary authorization, Commodore, and I’m sure the Board of Admiralty will confirm it. I’ll also find out about those missiles. In theory, I don’t see any problem in getting some shipped here from Fleet stocks within a couple of months.”
“Then that’s settled. Let’s get to work!”
Colonel Houmayoun signaled Steve to remain behind as the others strode out. “I wanted to give you a heads-up about the award ceremony,” he told him. “A Flag Officer is coming out from Lancaster to confer the awards next month. Apparently you know her – or, at any rate, she knows you. Her name’s Commodore Janet Esquivel. She’s presently in charge of Recruiting in the Bureau of Personnel.”
Steve’s jaw dropped. “Well, I’ll be darned! It’s been years! I was still a civilian when we met. She was a Lieutenant-Commander at the time, the Commanding Officer of a Fleet communications frigate that was destroyed by Constandt de Bouff more than a decade ago. He rescued her and the other survivors. They were put aboard my merchant ship, which his father had captured. The pirates planned to murder all of us, but we were able to recapture the ship and escape. Lieutenant-Commander Esquivel was badly hurt in the fighting. Later I heard she’d been awarded the Lancastrian Cross in Gold and an immediate combat promotion to Commander.”
The Colonel nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds like quite a story. It seems that when she heard you’d scuppered de Bouff senior, she formally requested the Board of Admiralty to allow her to present the awards, due to her earlier encounter with him and with you. She’ll be here in four weeks. You’d better arrange for Lieutenant-Commander Le Roux or Senior Lieutenant Grunion to take over Nightingale during her visit, so you can be available for the investiture.”
“Aye aye, Sir. It’ll be good to see her again.”
Rolla Orbitals
Late January 2848, GSC
Two weeks later Steve was hard at work in the patrol craft project office, part of System Control aboard the Planetary Elevator terminal, when the comm unit on his desk shrilled sharply.
“Senior Lieutenant Maxwell speaking.”
“Sir, it’s the Duty Quartermaster here. A civilian lawyer’s just arrived on the weekly dispatch vessel. He demanded to see you at once. When I told him he’d have to make an appointment, he produced some sort of legal document from his briefcase and claimed he was here on official business. Do you want to see him, Sir?”
“What sort of legal document?”
“One moment, please, Sir.” There was a murmur of voices on the other end of the line. “He says it’s a court order, Sir.”
“A court order?” For a moment Steve was baffled, then he suddenly remembered Commander Buchanan’s inquest and the ongoing investigation into the crash of the Mark XVIIA assault shuttle prototype. This probably had something to do with that.
“Very well, Quartermaster. Please have one of your duty team escort him to the conference room in the Administrative section. I’ll meet him there.”
“Aye aye, Sir.”
Steve thought for a moment. If this was connected to the crash investigation and subsequent events, it might be worthwhile to have an independent witness to proceedings – and a record of them. He placed a call to Syscon’s Executive Officer.
“Commander Upjohn.”
“Good morning, Sir. Senior Lieutenant Maxwell here.” Steve hurriedly explained about the arrival of the lawyer. “I was wondering, Sir – are the facilities that we used for the last planning meeting still in place?”
He could hear a glimmer of humor in the Exec’s voice. “They are. Do you want me to activate them?”
“I’d be grateful, thank you, Sir. I also wondered whether I could borrow one of your officers to act as an impartial witness to proceedings.”
“I think that can be arranged. Come on down. I’ll have everything ready for you.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
Steve arrived at the Admin section within a few minutes, to find Commander Upjohn waiting. “There’s no-one else available, and I’m free right now, so I’ll act as your witness,” the senior officer informed him. He motioned to the doorway to the conference room, beside which a small notice printed on a card had been inserted into a holder. “I’ve already switched everything on.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
They heard the sound of footsteps decelerating as two people dismounted from the high-speed conveyor, then a Spacer appeared in the corridor leading to the Admin annex. He was followed by a dark-suited civilian, a fleshy, overweight man who was scowling and perspiring heavily.
The Spacer stiffened to attention, addressing the Exec. “Sir, this is Mr. Abromowitch, a lawyer from Lancaster.”
“Thank you, Spacer. You can return to your duties.” The Commander held out his hand. “Good morning, Mr. Abromowitch. I’m Commander Upjohn, Executive Officer of Rolla’s Orbital Control Center, and this is Senior Lieutenant Maxwell, Commanding Officer of LCS Nightingale. Lieutenant Maxwell has asked me to attend this meeting with him.”
“Good morning, Commander.” The lawyer’s tone was brusque, and he shook hands perfunctorily. He didn’t offer Steve the same courtesy. Commander Upjohn indicated the door to the conference room, and he stalked through it ahead of the officers, looking fixedly straight ahead of him. Steve and Upjohn exchanged glances, eyebrows raised, as they followed him.
Abromowitch sat down at the head of the table without invitation and without waiting for the officers to reach their seats. Steve felt the slow burn of anger beginning inside him. This was clearly a power projection tactic, designed to make them feel that the lawyer was in charge. He bit back a rebuke as he and the Commander sat down, and waited to see what the visitor would do next.
The lawyer opened his briefcase, took out a folded document and handed it to Steve with a flourish. “Lieutenant Maxwell, you are served!” he exclaimed dramatically.
“Am I really?” Steve replied dryly, causing a flush to rise dangerously in the lawyer’s face. He ignored it as he unfolded the document and read it carefully. It was issued by the Superior Court of the District of Lancaster City, demanding that he provide a detailed statement concerning all his interactions with Commander Buchanan, particularly as regards the crash of the Mark XVIIA prototype. His eyes narrowed as he noted certain details of the order, and he nodded slowly as he folded it once more.
“There are two problems with this court order, Mr. Abromowitch,” he said slowly. “First, you’re not entitled or authorized to serve it here.”
The lawyer puffed up like a pouting pigeon. “What on earth do you mean?”
“This order was issued by a Lancastrian planetary court. You’re several hundred light years outside its jurisdiction. The only way you could serve it here would be to submit it to a Rolla planetary court, and ask them to certify it for service within their jurisdiction. You haven’t done so; therefore this order is of no force and effect here whatsoever.”
“That’s a technicality! As far as the Lancaster court is concerned, you’re served!”
“Don’t lie to me, Mr. Abromowitch.” Steve’s voice turned hard. “I happen to have discussed this possibility with the Judge Advocate-General’s Department before accepting this assignment. They were well aware of the sorts of pressure that might be applied to me concerning this case, and were very helpful in discussing relevant laws, regulations and interplanetary treaties. You’re wrong, and you know it. If there’s any doubt about that, I’m quite happy to let JAG take it up with the court on Lancaster – which brings me to the second problem with this order. I’m in the service of the Commonwealth, and this court order refers to an incident involving Commonwealth personnel that took place on Commonwealth property. Therefore, it’s not within the jurisdiction of a Lancastrian planetary court at all. You should have applied for this order in a Commonwealth court, but you didn’t. I’m therefore going to submit this to JAG, and ask them to apply to the court that issued it for a motion of censure against you on the grounds of inappropriate
and unprofessional conduct.”
“You can’t do that!” Abromowitch made a grab for the court order, but Steve snatched it away from his grasp.
“I wouldn’t try that again if I were you, Mr. Abramowitch. I’d be within my rights to restrain you, and you wouldn’t enjoy that.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“That’s not a threat, Mr. Abramowitch. It’s a promise.”
“I suggest you take that promise seriously, Mr. Abramowitch,” Commander Upjohn said, a glimmer of amusement in his voice. “There are a large number of recently deceased pirates who, if they could still talk, would tell you that Senior Lieutenant Maxwell isn’t to be trifled with.”
“This – this is preposterous!” Abramowitch had turned pale. “I’m acting as the emissary of a Lancastrian court in serving this process! You can’t treat me with such disrespect!”
“You’re far outside the court’s jurisdiction, and trying to serve it where you have no authority to do so,” Steve pointed out again, inwardly enjoying the lawyer’s discomfiture. “I think you know what the judge who issued this order will have to say about that. Furthermore, what do you think the Lancaster Bar Association will have to say when we file the court’s motion of censure with it?”
“It’s your word against mine!”
“Why do you think I asked Commander Upjohn to sit in on this meeting? He’ll be an independent witness, if one is needed. Furthermore, Mr. Abromowitch, did you bother to read the card at the door before entering this room?”
“What card?”
“Perhaps you should read it now.”
The lawyer hesitated, then got up and strode to the door, peering around its jamb at the card slotted into the holder. His face was red as he spun around. “That’s illegal!”
“On the contrary, Mr. Abramowitch. You know better than to suggest that. The card informs everyone who enters this room that proceedings within it will be recorded – as this discussion is being recorded right now. It won’t be your word against mine at all. It’ll be your word against mine and Commander Upjohn’s, and ours will be backed up by a complete vid and voice record of proceedings. I don’t think the court will be in any doubt as to what was said and done here, and I don’t think there’ll be any difficulty in obtaining the motion of censure for which I intend to apply.”
The lawyer sat down again, his face puce with anger. He blustered, “You’d be well advised to think very carefully before proceeding with any of your threats. Don’t think that a junior officer can get away with this sort of thing! My principals will make sure that your career comes to a grinding halt unless you co-operate.”
“How very kind of you to say that for the record, Mr. Abramowitch. Also for the record, who are your principals, please?”
“Oh – to hell with you!”
The lawyer slammed his briefcase closed, stood, and strode out of the conference room. Behind him, Steve glanced at Commander Upjohn.
“Sir, may I respectfully request that you prepare a sworn statement about what you’ve just heard and observed? We can have it certified by both the SPS and the Commonwealth Embassy to Rolla, so I can submit it to a Commonwealth court on Lancaster if necessary. I’d also greatly appreciate two copies of the recordings of this morning’s meeting, one for myself and one to forward to the Accident Investigation Unit on Lancaster.”
“It’ll be a pleasure, Lieutenant.” A grin appeared on the Commander’s face. “Thank you for a very interesting meeting. This was a lot more fun than processing paperwork! Do please let me know what happens with that motion of censure.”
“I will, Sir. AIU may proceed with that before I return to Lancaster, but one way or another, I’m going to enjoy puncturing Mr. Abromowitch’s ego!”
Rolla
February 2848, GSC
The taxi halted outside the house, and Steve hurriedly paid the driver. Grabbing his carryall, he headed for the front door. As he approached, Abha opened it from inside, her face alight with happiness.
“Steve! You’re early! I wasn’t expecting you until very late tonight.”
“Yes.” He kissed her fondly. “I managed to get everything wrapped up in time to catch a cutter that was heading planetside, rather than come down the Elevator as usual.”
“I’m glad. You can help me cook supper. Brooks will be here, and he’s bringing Major Ghale with him. He’s the XO of the Gurkha battalion. Apparently they’re planning a presentation of some kind, the day after the award ceremony. He’s going to tell us about it.”
Steve dropped his carryall in the room they now shared, and helped her prepare the food. The mouth-watering aroma of mutton korma filled the house. Because Steve and Brooks weren’t accustomed to native-strength Indian curries, Abha spiced it at a relatively mild level, and prepared an array of side dishes to accompany it.
Major Ghale proved to be a short, stocky man with an engaging smile. He praised Abha’s korma highly. “It’s a long time since I’ve had one this good. We don’t often serve it on Gandaki – our tastes run more to Nepalese dishes – but I learned to like it during exchange tours of duty with other planets of the Bihar Federation.”
“How did the Gurkhas arrive on Gandaki to begin with, Sir, and why did you join the Federation?” Brooks asked.
“Our homeland was destroyed during the Third Indo-Chinese War several hundred years ago. Biological weapons killed everyone living there. Only five battalions of Gurkha mercenaries were off-planet at the time, and only three of them were on long-term contracts that permitted their families to accompany them. They were almost the sole survivors of the entire Gurkha nation, along with some battalions in Indian service and a few individuals scattered around Earth.
He sighed heavily. “It was a crushing blow to their spirits to realize they could never return home. That’s become a bitter cultural memory for us. The battalions sent emissaries to each other, and eventually convened a conference to discuss their future. Clearly, they’d have to intermarry with other cultures due to a shortage of Gurkha partners, but how could they preserve their own culture while doing so? They decided they had to have a planet of their own, where they could maintain their cultural independence without being swamped by others.
“The Bihar Federation was being formed at the time, and it offered them the planet we christened Gandaki. It was small and mountainous, without much in the way of mineral resources, not offering anything in particular to attract settlers; but it was available, and not unlike the terrain where most Gurkhas had been born and raised. The Federation also offered to allow us to seek partners among their member worlds. In exchange, Bihar required us to provide our mercenary services exclusively to their members; not to compete with other Federation planets in commercial or military space travel; and allow them to control our foreign policy. It was a very restrictive offer, but under the circumstances our ancestors didn’t have much choice. They accepted.”
“I was born on Nasek, Sir,” Abha informed him as she reached for the rice bowl. “It’s also a member of the Bihar Federation.”
“So it is. How did you come to join the Lancastrian Commonwealth Marines?”
“That’s a long story. Let’s just say that, being of mixed race, I found Nasek very restrictive and the rest of the Federation not much better. When I had an opportunity to leave both behind me by joining the Marines, I jumped at it.”
Ghale’s face fell. “Yes, the Federation is very racially conscious. Even though it offered us a planet, its member worlds and peoples looked down on us. Our numbers have grown to the point that we’re now well established, and we’ve been able to wring some concessions out of them – such as offering our mercenary services outside the Federation – but we’re still chafing under most of the restrictions they initially imposed. They won’t let us have our own System Patrol Service, or allow us to operate merchant ships. We have to obtain all such services from them, which is a problem, because their prices are high and their quality isn’t very good. We know what it s
hould be, thanks to our contact with the Commonwealth, but they don’t see why they should meet such high standards or charge lower prices.”
Abha asked, “If you’ve intermarried with other cultures over the centuries, have you been able to maintain your own, and your traditions, Sir?”
“I think so. Our genetic heritage has been diluted, of course – I doubt whether any of us are more than half Gurkha by blood now, with most less than that – but our ancestors bequeathed us an almost fanatical emphasis on our cultural heritage. We take great pains to maintain it, perhaps to the point of obsession: but when you consider that our forefathers were the sole survivors of an entire culture and saw themselves as the guardians of its heritage, you can understand why that should be.”
“I sure can, Sir,” Brooks assured him. “What’s more, you’ve done a great job of preserving your military heritage, judging by the reputation of Gurkhas to this day.”
They adjourned to the living-room for post-prandial coffee. As they sat down, Steve asked, “Sir, Abha tells me your battalion wants to arrange a presentation to follow the investiture ceremony on Friday. What did you have in mind?”
The Major settled back in his chair. “Let me tell you the story from the beginning. About twenty years ago, a transport was carrying a number of Gurkhas and their wives and families to Jashmur, where they were to join one of our battalions. There were about a hundred in all. Their ship was captured by de Bouff at the system boundary as soon as it arrived. His men secured the captives, then killed all our soldiers – they apparently believed it was too dangerous to keep military personnel as prisoners. They abused their wives and children in ways that I won’t describe.” His lips tightened in remembered fury. “Eventually, after they tired of them, they killed them as well. We didn’t know that at the time, of course, or who was responsible; only that their ship had been pirated, and they’d never been seen or heard from again.”
