by Peter Grant
—————
Back at the ship, Steve summoned the First Lieutenant and Chief of the Ship to his office.
“I looked at the liberty facilities on the Orbital Terminal,” he began. “They’re not much by our standards. I don’t mind our people going there to check them out for themselves, but warn them ahead of time they’re likely to be disappointed. However, I think I’ve managed to arrange planetside liberty, once a few things have been sorted out. That’ll mean taking a shuttle down, spending at least one night there – we’ll arrange accommodation for our liberty parties at a central hotel – and then coming back up the next day. We might even make it a two-day liberty run, depending on how much there is to see and do down there.”
“The crew will enjoy that, sir,” Senior Chief Aznar agreed.
“Warn them about Indian-style food,” Steve cautioned. “I like curries and hot, spicy foods, but it’ll be very different to what most of them are used to. Here, I brought back a dozen samosas. Try one – but be prepared for the heat!” He offered a container.
Juliette took one and bit into it, then reached hurriedly for the cup of coffee on the desk in front of her. She swallowed a couple of mouthfuls. “It’s… it’s tasty, but wow! It’s spicy!”
Steve grinned. “You should try some of my wife’s cooking. She can really go to town on the heat sometimes, when she forgets I wasn’t raised on Indian food like she was.”
Aznar shook his head. “After seeing that, sir, I reckon I’ll leave those things to you officers. I take enough heat from the crew as it is!” They all laughed. “I’ll tell them to be careful.”
“Suggest they order the mildest spice level.”
“I will, sir, but you know spacers. Some of them will take it as a personal challenge to eat hotter food than anyone else.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know. Just make sure they understand that the hotter it goes in at one end, the hotter it burns coming out of the other – and I’m not going to approve sick leave after a hot food contest!” More laughter.
“Anyway, enough of that. Tomorrow our liaison officer will take me aboard one of Devakai’s system patrol craft. They’re a century old. There’s nothing in space to wear out their frames and hulls, of course, but I doubt whether their systems have been upgraded to keep pace with modern technology. The following day I’ll be seeing Captain Padayachi, boss of their SPS, to discuss possible upgrades for existing craft, the possible supply of newer vessels, and whether the local industrial base can support them. I’ll probably bring the Engineer Officer into that discussion. After that I’ll visit the SPS’s training facilities, both in orbit and planetside, to see whether they can cope with an infusion of new technology and bring their people up to speed on it.
“Tomorrow I’ll also set up the liberty schedule with our liaison officer. It’ll probably run twice a week, for up to a quarter of the crew at a time. As soon as we’ve arranged a place for our liberty parties to stay, the first group can go planetside. Senior Chief, please go with the first group to keep an eye on them. If you think anything’s potentially tricky, handle it as you see fit, then let me know about it, so we can make sure future liberty parties don’t have the same problem.”
“Aye aye, sir. Er… about those local escorts for our small craft. Will they go planetside with us, sir?”
“That’s off the table. I discussed it with the SPS, and they’ve agreed that our diplomatic status removes the need for it.” The other two grinned in satisfaction. “That brings up another thing, though. The locals seem to be very quick to take offense at any perceived slight to their religion, or any suggestion that their planet is somehow ‘primitive’ or ‘backward’. Clearly, some of their previous visitors haven’t been very diplomatic about that. Warn everyone, particularly our liberty parties, that if I hear of any comments or suggestions like that, I’ll come down on them like the proverbial ton of bricks! Clear?”
“Clear, sir,” they assured him in unison.
“Very well. Number One, we aren’t scheduled to leave anytime soon, but I still want the ship refueled and provisioned right away, just in case. Let’s be ready in all respects for departure as quickly as possible. I want that done before we begin to grant liberty. Here are the suppliers used by the local System Patrol Service.” He passed her a printed sheet. “Contact them with lists of what we need, and emphasize that we’ll inspect everything for quality as it arrives. If it’s not up to our standards, we won’t accept or pay for it.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Good. Let’s get on with it, then.”
Steve locked his office, then walked down the passage towards the accommodation section. He entered a messdeck that held two four-person compartments on either side of a common area. A Petty Officer Second Class was seated there, idly watching a movie. He looked up as Steve walked in, then jumped to his feet.
“Good afternoon, sir.”
“Afternoon, P.O.” Steve shut the door behind him. “I need to see the Intel Officer.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
The NCO picked up a remote-control unit that lay on the table next to his chair. It looked as if it controlled the vid screen, but when he pressed a button, a click came from the door as the lock was engaged. Turning, he pointed the remote at a blank steel bulkhead and pressed another button. A soft chime sounded to alert those inside, then the bulkhead slid back, revealing a compartment filled with consoles. Three spacers were on watch inside. They looked up and braced to attention in their seats as Steve walked in, the bulkhead sliding closed behind him, but didn’t take off their headphones or say anything. He nodded approvingly.
He walked through the compartment to a smaller one beyond it, where a short, thin, determined-looking woman sat at a desk. “Good afternoon, Warrant Officer Macneill. How are things going?”
She looked up, smiled, and gestured at the chair next to hers. “Going well, sir. Devakai doesn’t have much in the way of up-to-date comms security, except for two networks. We’re reading all their routine traffic already, and we’ll have cracked the rest by midnight, I think.”
“Good. What are the hardened networks?”
“One’s in their System Patrol Service HQ, sir. They’ve got an encrypted network, over and above their routine traffic network. It seems to link them with the Defense Ministry planetside, and also with that shipyard on the far side of the planet. That’s the other hard spot, sir. Kalla’s got all the usual transmitters – small craft, work parties, inter-bay communication, all that sort of thing – but they also have an encrypted network. One node talks to SPS HQ, but the other’s using a tight-beam dish aimed at some sort of temple planetside. I’ve no idea what it is, at least not yet, but as soon as your little toy cracks the encryption we’ll be able to read what they’re saying to each other.”
Steve frowned. “A temple, you say?”
“That’s what it looks like from up here, sir. Our drone took some pictures.” She called up an image on the big screen occupying one wall of her office. It showed a tall, ornate central structure, set in the middle of a large open space. Smaller buildings surrounded it on three sides. The entire complex stood on what looked like a squared-off island in the middle of a wide river. Bridges, thronged with pedestrian traffic, connected it to both banks.
“Why would an orbital shipyard need a tight-beam link to a temple?” Steve mused. “I can’t believe it’s because they have a very religious workforce – although you never know. I’d say it’s much more likely to be connected to the Kotai movement, particularly given what we heard about that shipyard from the rebels on Athi.”
“Yes, sir. Hopefully that box of tricks they gave you will help us figure that out.”
“As soon as it’s cracked the encryption for both networks, I’ll have it feed its results back to your systems.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Do you need to use our third drone to keep a closer eye on anything?”
“I’m already using it, sir
. I sent it a few thousand clicks below Kalla, to sit on the line of that tight-beam between the shipyard and that temple. It’s picking up traffic in both directions, but they can’t detect it, so they don’t know we’re listening. It’s also watching for any orbital traffic that gets too close, so it can move out of the way before anyone sees it.”
“Good. If there’s any sign it’s been discovered, lose it. We can’t use its nuclear self-destruct charge that close to the planet, so you’ll have to either move it clear of the planet, or crash it into one of the oceans. Pick a deep spot.”
She looked doubtful. “They’ll see its entry contrail into the atmosphere, sir.”
“True, but we’re only going to crash it if there’s no other way to avoid it being captured. In that case, the contrail won’t tell them anything new, and they won’t be able to prove we’re behind it until we’re long gone – if at all. I’m not sure their technology is advanced enough to recover the remains from deep water.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Keep up the good work. I want to know everything there is to know about this planet’s signal traffic inside a week. What about their records? Can you penetrate the computer systems at SPS HQ, so we can analyze their databases?”
“Yes, sir. That’ll take about two more days, based on what we’ve found so far. They don’t have great security, but we can’t rush it. We don’t want them noticing our attempts to get in.”
“Good. I need a full analysis of all traffic to and from this system over the past couple of years, ever since the Kotai rebellion on Athi kicked off. Let’s see if we can establish a correlation between traffic movements here, particularly from that shipyard, and any upsurge in rebel activity on Athi a few weeks later.”
“Aye aye, sir. Do you want us to penetrate the shipyard’s database as well?”
“If you can do so without being detected, yes, go ahead. It’ll be interesting to correlate its shipbuilding and repair activities, and trips to and from it, with the SPS’s traffic records.”
Macneill grinned. “And if they don’t match, sir?”
“Then we’ll have a lot more investigating to do as we try to figure out what’s going on.”
“Oh, well. They do say there’s no peace for the wicked, sir.”
“Hey, speak for yourself! I’m pure as the driven slush!”
She sniffed ostentatiously. “You said it, sir, not me.”
Chuckling, Steve left her to get on with the real reason their ship had been selected for the Devakai mission.
November 27 2851 GSC
“We’re wasting our damned time here!” Marisela exploded as she stormed into her office in the diplomatic guest house assigned to her mission. She tossed her attaché case petulantly on the sofa, following it with the blue jacket she stripped angrily from her shoulders.
Her secretary hurried to pick up the discarded items. “But, ma’am, you’re at least meeting senior officials. That’s a start, surely?”
“Oh, come on, Eileen! An Envoy Extraordinary and Ambassador Plenipotentiary should be meeting with the Foreign Minister in person, not his underlings! They smile politely, but won’t agree to anything that might reduce Kotai interference on Athi. Everything they suggest is just smoke and mirrors – diplomatic window-dressing, nothing more.” The diplomat threw herself into the ornately upholstered chair behind her old-fashioned hand-carved wood desk, scowling bleakly as it creaked in protest. “I’ll say this for them, they’re masters of obfuscation. United Planets bureaucrats are rank amateurs by comparison!”
Eileen suppressed a wince. The UP administration was legendary for its obstructionism. “Perhaps Mr. Gallegros will learn something useful at the Ministry of Defense this morning,” she said hopefully.
“I hope so. Send him straight in when he gets back.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
What the Deputy Chief of Mission had learned did nothing to improve his boss’s mood. “They’ve given me a shopping list of what their Planetary Self-Defense Force needs to ‘control internal unrest’, as they put it,” he informed her as he sank into a visitor’s chair. “Among other goodies, they’re asking for modern assault shuttles, laser and plasma cannon, missiles, artillery and electronics.”
Marisela frowned. “Those are for fighting a war, not internal security!”
“That’s what worries me. There’s another thing. They’ve asked for a million ration packs to replenish their emergency planetary reserve. They claim their old ration packs reached their expiry date some months ago.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Their military asked for ration packs? For a planetary emergency reserve? That makes no sense, surely? The planetary reserve would normally be under the control of the Ministry of the Interior, or a Department of Public Safety, or something like that – not the army.”
“I asked about that. They just shrugged, and said they did things differently here.”
“Hmmm… perhaps. Even so, unless it’s an emergency, planets usually supply their own ration packs. That way they can use local foods that everyone’s used to eating. Ration packs from other planets won’t be as acceptable to their people. Also, every planet I know of rotates its emergency supplies, getting rid of the oldest stocks each year and buying new ones to replace them. I’ve never heard of an entire stockpile reaching its expiry date all at once.”
Gallegros nodded. “They claimed they haven’t been able to afford to rotate their reserve supplies for some time. I asked them to provide samples of the outdated ration packs, so we could look for the closest match from other planets to replace them, but they said they’d disposed of them all. They apparently sent them to an asteroid mining project in another system, where a lot of Devakai people are working, to use them up before their expiry date.”
“What about their System Patrol Service? Surely they use ration packs aboard their small ships?”
“That’s a good idea, ma’am. We can contact Lieutenant-Commander Maxwell and ask him to check on that.” He hesitated. “There’s another thing, ma’am. I kept my eyes open while being shown around PSDF Headquarters – it’s attached to the Ministry of Defense. A lot of the officers and senior NCO’s were wearing those little trident pins in their turbans.”
“The trishula? Did you notice what they were made of?”
“Many were iron and bronze, but I’d say a good third of those I saw were silver and gold.”
“Hmmm… About how many were wearing tridents, as a proportion of all those you met?”
“I’d say at least a quarter in the general office areas, and perhaps as many as a third of the senior officers.”
“That worries me. If the Kotai have infiltrated Devakai’s PSDF, they could turn any equipment we supply against their planetary government – or use it against our forces on Athi. And what about the SPS? Lieutenant-Commander Maxwell hasn’t reported to me yet about his investigations, but they’re still in an early stage, of course.”
“Perhaps I should go up to orbit to see him? I can tell him what we’re encountering down here, and he can give me any information he’s uncovered that might help us.”
She nodded firmly. “That’s an excellent idea. Tell him what Devakai’s ground forces have asked for, and about the trishula you noticed. Find out whether that dovetails with his investigation of the SPS.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He glanced at the timepiece on the wall. “I’ll ask our liaison officer to make a cutter or gig available. I can be up there by late afternoon. With your permission, I’ll overnight aboard and come down again in the morning.”
“Very well. Send the Commander a message, so he’ll know you’re coming. Oh – one more thing. The Devakai authorities have asked that he be part of our meeting with the President. His analysis of the SPS’s needs will form part of our report to the UP, so they think he should be there to discuss his findings. Please ask him to join us here at eleven on the twenty-ninth. We’ll travel to the meeting together. He can spend the night with us, and rejoin his ship next m
orning.”
“Will do, ma’am.”
—————
“How many people work here?” Steve asked as his gig decelerated towards the Kalla Orbital Shipyard. Its dozen piers, five each on two sides and one at either end, stood out like jagged, elongated metallic teeth in the glaring light of the system’s star, reflected from the planet below.
“I’m not sure, sir,” Lieutenant Chetty admitted. “There are a couple of hundred working at the SPS maintenance dock, but there must be ten times as many, or even more, in the main part of the dockyard.”
“That’s unusual. Most orbital dockyards I’ve used are heavily roboticized, with humans there to reprogram the robots and keep an eye on their output. Kalla has far more workers than usual.”
Chetty shrugged. “That’s because we still do a lot of things by hand, sir. We can’t afford to mechanize everything. Even if we could, I’m not sure that we would, because we have to provide employment for our people.”
“The SPS dock is the bay ahead of us, right?” Steve nodded to the single docking bay at the nearest end of the space station. They were already close enough to make out the shapes of two heavy patrol craft alongside it.
“Yes, sir.”
Idly, as if making casual conversation, Steve observed, “I was surprised to learn that you only have two heavy patrol craft on duty at present, with two more here being serviced. I thought Devakai had a full squadron of eight ships.”
“We do, sir, but four are out-system right now. There’s a smuggling problem at Kalla’s asteroid mining project, so they asked the SPS to assign a division of four patrol craft to it for a few months to put a stop to it. Captain Padayachi objected that we couldn’t spare them, but the shipyard went over his head to the Ministry of Defense. They approved the contract, and our patrol craft were shipped to the mining project aboard a big freighter a couple of months ago. Kalla’s paying handsomely for the SPS’s services, including bonuses to the crews, so we all wanted to go.” Chetty smiled ruefully. “I volunteered to go, but Kalla’s owners are Kotai adherents, so they asked the Ministry of Defense to select fellow believers for the patrol craft crews. They said it would help to avoid friction on the project. Since they were paying for everything, their request was granted.”
