by Peter Grant
He watched Marisela and Solveig carefully as they listened. Their faces turned pale as the recording continued. Marisela looked positively hangdog, he thought, but Solveig’s face stiffened into an impassive mask, showing nothing of her internal feelings.
As the recording ended, he clicked off the playback. “Since we have the original recording in our possession,” and he tapped the chip on his desk, “and we can establish a chain of custody for it that rules out any possibility of tampering, it’ll be accepted as evidence by any court on Lancaster. What’s more, Miss Soldahl, your cabin and possessions are presently being searched for your illicit recordings. Any found there will be added to this recording as potential evidence in court.”
“How dare you?” she demanded, her voice icy cold. “You don’t have a search warrant. You have no right to go through my things!”
“Ma’am, you gave us that right, explicitly and specifically, when you signed the consent form to travel aboard this ship. That form will be part of our submission to the court. I’ve also had you discreetly scanned since listening to that recording. I know that the third button on that shirt you’re wearing is a concealed recording device. When we finish here, Senior Lieutenant Laforet will supervise its removal and retention as evidence.”
Marisela protested, “She may have made those recordings, but that doesn’t make me responsible for them!”
“Yes, it does, ma’am, at least in part. Remember the discussion we had about Miss Soldahl’s presence as we left Lancaster? You specifically admitted that you introduced her to me as a CNS representative, even though you were aware that she was no longer employed by them. In other words, you admitted lying to the Fleet, right from the start of this mission. You also stated, in so many words, that her presence with your delegation was important to the Department of State. Later, in that recording you just heard, you admitted that you brought Miss Soldahl along as much as a favor to your mentor as for any other reason, to ferret out personal and potentially damaging information about me that had nothing whatsoever to do with your official mission. That constitutes deception, as well as abuse of the Fleet’s hospitality and facilities. I’m sure the Board of Admiralty is going to be very interested to hear that recording. I won’t be at all surprised if it leads to a formal complaint, via the Minister of Defense, to the Secretary of State. I suspect your Mr. Beauvoir is going to have to answer some very pointed questions.”
“You can’t involve him! You mustn’t! He had nothing to do with this!”
“Your conversation with Miss Soldahl suggests otherwise, ma’am,” Steve said implacably. “Of course, it’ll be for others, far above my pay grade and yours, to make that determination.”
Solveig said coolly, “Making a fuss might be detrimental to you as well, Commander. I doubt very much whether Mr. Beauvoir specifically asked Marisela to include me in her delegation; and he’s senior enough that his word will carry a great deal of weight in inter-departmental disputes.”
“It may, ma’am, but so will this recording. If further clarification is needed, I’ll be more than happy to officially request truth-tester examination, under court order and supervision, of everyone involved, including you, Ms. Bonaventura, Mr. Beauvoir and myself. I have nothing to hide. One hopes Mr. Beauvoir will be able to say – and demonstrate – the same.”
Solveig’s impassive mask dissolved as worry washed over her face. She clearly knew, as well as he did, that a neural truth-tester was accurate to within one error in every one hundred thousand questions. Indeed, it was so accurate that its report could not be used in criminal proceedings without the consent of the person being examined, or a court order requiring its use, because it was certain to incriminate the guilty, removing the presumption of innocence. It would exonerate the innocent just as surely, of course; but judging from the expression on her face, the journalist didn’t think such an outcome was likely in her case.
“There’s one more thing,” Steve said, his voice impassive. “Based on information obtained at Devakai, I’m convinced that a major Kotai attack is about to be launched at Athi, in space and on the planet. I’ve therefore ordered this ship to proceed there with all possible speed, to warn our forces. We’ll return to Lancaster after we’ve done that.”
Marisela’s eyes blazed with renewed fury as she thrust herself to her feet. “This ship was placed at the disposal of my mission, and no-one else! I insist that you proceed to Lancaster immediately, and send a warning to Athi from there!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but that’s not going to happen. If I’m wrong, and no Kotai attack takes place in the short term, you’re welcome to seek disciplinary action against me for disobeying my original orders. However, if I’m right, and we’re able to warn Athi about the attack before it occurs, I suggest that any such demand would be ill-advised.”
Steve stood in his turn. “I think that concludes our business this morning. Miss Soldahl, from now on you may not leave the passenger compartment of this ship without an escort, and may only go to parts of the ship that I or Senior Lieutenant Laforet authorize in advance. Any breach of those restrictions will result in your arrest and confinement to your cabin under lock and key. Senior Lieutenant Laforet will see to the removal of that button from your shirt in a more private place.”
—————
As they walked down the central passage together, Warrant Officer Laninga said, “It’s the damnedest thing I ever saw, sir. I’d never have thought of it, and if I had, I’d have laughed at myself for having such a stupid idea; but she made it work. I just had to come and get you to see it.”
“I’m glad you did. Besides, you know what they say: if it works, it’s not stupid.”
They entered the docking bay. Steve stopped dead in his tracks as he saw electrical cables snaking through the airlocks leading to the ship’s cutter and gig. “You disabled the safety interlocks between the inner and outer doors of the airlocks?”
“Yes, sir. You said that safety had to take second place to speed on this run, remember?”
“Yes, I did, but if I thought you’d take me this literally, I might have reconsidered! What if one of the small craft breaks the seal of its docking trunk under the stress of a hyper-jump? The bay will vent its atmosphere to space!”
The engineer shrugged, and pointed to the airtight doors at the entrance to the docking bay lobby. “Those will slam shut, sir. They won’t do anyone in the docking bay much good, but they’ll save the rest of the ship. It’s not as if we’re taking any fewer risks in the drive compartment, sir. We’re cutting corners there, too. We’re pushing Pickle harder than she’s ever been driven before, right on the ragged edge of any safety margin I’ve ever heard of.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
Laninga motioned to a technician, who hurried towards them. “This is Petty Officer Second Class Amalina Sin, sir. This was her idea.”
“Good morning, PO. So, these cables lead from the small craft power plants to our capacitor ring charging station?”
“Yes, sir,” she answered nervously. “Their micro-reactors are now part of our charging network. After every hyper-jump, it normally takes the ship’s reactor four hours to recharge the capacitor ring before the next jump. With the added help of these two small reactors, plus the other short-cuts we’re using, we’ve cut that to 3.4 hours. That means we can make an extra hyper-jump every twenty-four hours, sir. It’ll shave more than a day off our transit time to Athi.”
“It was a bloody good idea, PO, I’ll tell you that! That extra speed may literally mean the difference between life and death for our people there. We’ll know soon enough.” He looked at Laninga. “What’s Petty Officer Sin’s most recent performance rating?”
“Top of the board, sir. She’s one of the best techs I’ve ever had working for me.”
“What’s your time in grade, Sin?”
“Nineteen months, sir.”
“Very well. For something as ingenious as this, on so important a mission
, I’d normally submit a citation for you to be awarded the Fleet Commendation Medal. Unfortunately, given the safety violations you’ve had to commit to make it work, the Bureau of Ships would throw a frothing fit if I did; so, I’ll do something different. A Commanding Officer can grant up to six months’ additional seniority in grade for exceptional performance. I’ll give you the full six, which will raise your total seniority in grade E-5 to more than two years. That’s the minimum time-in-grade required for promotion in peacetime. Warrant Officer Laninga, please let me have the paperwork by this afternoon for Sin’s immediate meritorious promotion to Petty Officer First Class, to take effect on this date. As motivating factors, mention her seniority award – I’ll transmit a copy to you – and her initiative in getting this working under the most urgent and difficult operational circumstances. Leave out anything about ignoring safety regulations, of course.”
“That’ll be a pleasure, sir. Congratulations, Sin.” He held out his hand.
“T – thank you, sir!” The beaming smile on the young woman’s face said it all as she took it.
Steve shook her hand as well. “You’ve earned it the hard way, PO. Congratulations, and thank you. If you keep this up, you’ll be wearing Warrant Officer’s insignia yourself one of these days, or perhaps even shooting for a commission as an Engineer Officer.”
—————
Steve looked up as Senior Lieutenant Laforet ushered Warrant Officer MacNeill into his office. Both looked as tired as he felt, if not more so.
“Evening,” he said shortly as he sat back, rubbing his eyes. “Thanks for coming up. MacNeill, you have the data?”
“Yes, sir.” She laid three chip folders on his desk, each stamped ‘Top Secret’. She opened one to show him five high-capacity data chips, each in its own slot. A sixth slot was vacant. “Each folder contains everything we recorded at Devakai from every source; our own sensors, intercepted transmissions, what we got from the SPS, Kalla and temple databases, the captured chips from the delegation offices, the lot. I’ve included my own assessment of everything, and the conclusions I drew from it.”
“Thanks, Warrant Officer.” Steve picked up three data chips from the table. “These contain every single report I’ve filed since we left Lancaster, including recordings of my conversations with Ms. Bonaventura and Ms. Soldahl. I’ve included my deductions about Kotai intentions, based on the intelligence we gathered at Devakai, and my reasons for heading for Athi instead of back to Lancaster.” He handed them to MacNeill, and watched as she put one into the vacant slot in each folder. She handed one folder to him and one to Juliette, keeping the third for herself. They each coded their folder’s lock to their own fingerprints, added a unique combination, then sealed them.
Speaking slowly and deliberately, he told them, “Keep these secure, but close to hand. If anything happens to me or the ship, your orders are to get your folder into the hands of Commodore Wu or one of his superior officers at Lancaster. You may not surrender it to anyone else, for any reason whatsoever, unless to store it in a Fleet-approved secure facility. Remember that if anyone tries to force open the folder, it’ll sear all the chips and render them unreadable, so don’t let anyone else handle it. Clear?”
“Clear, sir.” “Yes, sir.” Both women replied in unison.
“Good. Here are the same orders in writing, signed by me.” He handed each of them an envelope. “They include an open travel warrant giving you top priority on any form of Fleet transport, and an open expense warrant if you need to book commercial passage.”
“Do you really think we need all these precautions, sir?” Juliette asked, her face troubled.
Steve sighed. “I hope not, Number One; but given the critical nature of what we’ve discovered, particularly the threat to the Bihar Confederation if we don’t stop this mess on Athi and Devakai before it can spread, I’m not taking any chances. How’s the drone coming along?”
“It’s almost ready, sir. Warrant Officer Laninga had his people go through it with a fine toothcomb. He’s satisfied with its condition. I’m just waiting on the message and data downloads.”
“MacNeill and I will have those ready for you by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Thank you, sir. Now, may I suggest that you get some sleep? You’ve been driving yourself harder than any of us. We need you fighting fit if we have to deal with the Kotai at Athi, sir.”
Steve smiled tiredly. “I suppose you’re right. Besides, we’ve all done almost everything we can by now. Let’s all try to get a bit more sleep tonight, all right?”
—————
Senior Chief Aznar tapped at the open door. “I’ve brought Ms. Soldahl, sir.”
“Thanks, Senior Chief. Show her in, please, and close the door.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Solveig came in slowly, almost hesitantly, and sank into a chair as Steve nodded towards it. “You asked to see me?” he said without preamble.
“Yes, but… everyone seems so… so driven, so busy, I wasn’t sure whether you would.”
“We are very busy, and I can’t spare you much time, so please be brief. I must also point out, in case you’d forgotten, that everything said in here is recorded.”
“I hadn’t forgotten. I… I want to apologize.” She threw back her head and met his eyes. “I’m not trying to excuse what I did, and I’m not trying to weasel out of the consequences. I know I’m going to be found guilty if it comes to a court case, so I’ll save time and trouble and plead guilty to the charges. Conviction will probably destroy my career, but that’s my own fault. I got too caught up in the ‘get-the-story-at-all-costs’ mentality, I suppose. In doing that, I abused your hospitality and that of the Fleet, and I ignored the professional standards I’m supposed to observe. That was wrong. I wanted to tell you, personally, that I’m sorry. You deserved better than that from me, particularly after what you did for all of us on Devakai. Without you, we’d still be back there – and I don’t want to think about what the Kotai might have done to us by now.”
To Steve’s surprise, he found himself nodding slowly. If she was lying, she was concealing it very, very well. I think she really means it, he thought, even as he said, “I’m grateful to you for being so honest. I accept your apology.”
“Thanks. I know that words aren’t enough, so I wanted to ask if there’s anything I can do to make up for what I did. Again, I’m not trying to avoid the consequences. I’ll face them and deal with them as best I can. Even so… I owe you. I want to do whatever I can for you, and for your ship and crew, to make up in some small way for what I did. Am I making sense?”
Steve sat back in his chair, feeling suddenly more relaxed. He was oddly certain that the journalist’s words were sincere. “As a matter of fact, there is something you can do. Peter Gallegros gave his life to save us all. I’ve nominated him for the Lancastrian Cross of Valor. Along with the Star of Valor for service personnel, it’s our highest award for courage. I’d be grateful if you’d prepare a news report about what he did, and how you witnessed it personally. I’m afraid his nomination might get caught up in a dispute between the Board of Admiralty and the Secretariat of State over this whole mess, and become lost in the bureaucratic shuffle. I’d like to give it every chance of success. Publicity might help.”
“I’ll be glad to do that. He saved my life, too.”
“Thank you. Of course, please don’t release it until his family have been informed. You might like to visit them before it’s broadcast, and tell them what you saw. I’ve also got to return his signet ring to them.”
“Yes, I’ll do that. I saw you take the ring from his finger. May I… may I prepare another report as well? I’d like to highlight your ship and crew. You’ve all been working like men and women possessed. I understand you’re cutting every corner in the book to get to Athi and deliver your warning before the Kotai attack, even at increased risk to yourselves and the ship. This is real-life drama, the kind most people never hear about. I’d love to do a
human-interest story about how hard you’re all working, and what you’re trying to do, and perhaps flesh that out at Athi if you’re successful. Would you allow me to do that?”
Steve thought carefully. Her request was risky… but if she was truly sincere, perhaps it was a risk worth taking. The Fleet valued good publicity when it could get it. At last he said, “I’ll consider it under these conditions. You’ll have an escort at all times, and you mustn’t ask questions about our past operations or activities. Also, you’re not to talk about how we came to know that the Kotai were planning this attack. Just say that we learned about it on Devakai, and leave it at that. If we run into anything at Athi, I may – may – let you film some of what happens; but again, you can’t reveal anything sensitive about our operations. As far as your viewers are concerned, we’re just a plain, ordinary communications frigate. All right?”
She smiled faintly. “It’s pretty obvious by now that Pickle’s a lot more than that. As Marisela said in that recording you played back to us, we’ve heard rumors about special ships from time to time. Still, I won’t make waves. If you’ll let me shoot, edit and produce those reports, I won’t mention anything sensitive about you or your ship. My word on it.”
Steve looked at her for a long moment, then nodded once more. “I’m surprised at myself, but I actually believe you’ll keep your word. Very well.”
He turned around and opened his safe, removing the small vid camera that she’d carried on Devakai. Along with the rest of her recording gear, it had been stored in his safe pending their return to Lancaster. He handed it to her, along with its data chips. “Don’t let me down. For that matter, don’t let yourself down. If you do a good job with those reports, I think they may provide grounds for the Fleet to go easy on you, for what it’s worth. If I’m satisfied with them, I’ll recommend that to my superiors.”
“Thank you.”
She took the camera from him, and offered her hand. He shook it.
