“Can you speak to me?” Lisbeth managed a whispered hiss. The bug buzzed, alternating short and long. “Right. No coms. Well stick with me. Where we’re going, I might need some help.”
The first jump pulse hit her, as the ship’s hyperspace engines powered up for departure.
“There goes another one,” said Second Lieutenant Geish on Scan. “That’s four in the last hour.” The icon on Erik’s display was moving, trajectory lines rearranging as steady thrust pushed it into orbital escape. The icon’s ID tag showed that it was a tavalai freighter, departing Stoya III’s second main orbital station.
“If they wanted to move Lisbeth,” Shahaim added, “they’d hub-dock the shuttle at one of the stations, then direct transfer to the ship on the station rim. Avoids station security, plus we can’t track it.”
At Scan Two, Second Lieutenant Jiri nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been tracking that since Lisbeth vanished, not a single shuttle up from Stoya III has made direct dock with a ship. If they’re moving Lisbeth, they’re doing it via station hub.”
“Hiding what they’ve done so we can’t run the fuckers down and gut them before they leave system,” Kaspowitz muttered.
Because Phoenix could, of course. Erik watched all the outbound icons — four in the last hour, as Geish had said, another thirteen in the three hours before that. Adding up the timelines, and how long it would have taken a vehicle leaving Doma Strana under cover of jamming to reach a nearby spaceport, then an orbital shuttle up to a station… there had been about forty of those in that time period, within reasonable flying range of Doma Strana. Any of them could have been carrying Lisbeth, and now any of these departing ships could be carrying her too, and like the baffled victim of a master shell-game player, Phoenix had no idea under which cup their desired thing was hidden.
Erik itched to give the command to run them all down, and board each in turn before they could run for jump. Even then, he’d never get them all in time. And the tavalai Fleet would have something unpleasant to say about a human vessel in tavalai space, running down local traffic and boarding them under arms. He dreamed an impossible dream. All of this firepower at his disposal, and he’d never felt so helpless.
“We’ll get her back, Captain,” said Shahaim. “Phoenix never leaves crew behind.” There were growls of agreement across the bridge.
Erik took a deep breath. The whole thing was so intensely personal, but there was no privacy for him here, not on this. In this matter, there was far more than just Lisbeth’s life at stake.
“Okay,” he said, “we have to talk about this. Us command crew. Lisbeth is crew now, but she’s also my sister. That’s against Fleet regs, for reasons that are even more obvious now than usual, but then I seem to recall it wasn’t my idea to bring her aboard.”
They were all listening. Strapped into their posts, eyes on screens and fingers working where required, but listening.
“First of all, it’s a conundrum. Lisbeth is one person, and all of you are my brothers and sisters too. Her life is no more important than that of any of us, and we can’t risk everything just for her.” He took another deep breath. His voice had nearly cracked on that last sentence. Saying it, and meaning it, was one of the hardest things he’d done, sitting in this chair. “On the other hand, as the Commander says, Lisbeth is also Phoenix crew. And Phoenix does not leave crew behind.”
It wasn’t even technically true. Ships left crew behind all the time — marines on station, engineers stuck outside fixing things when a new threat emerged on scan. But those were unavoidable, and as soon as the opportunity presented, ships would return and search. In the war, there were always smaller ships, recon runners, who would return to the scene of battle and sweep for survivors. Sometimes those ships had encountered tavalai runners doing the same, and each had ignored the other by mutual, civilised agreement, and sometimes even tagged enemy survivors for the others’ benefit. Now there were no friendly runners, no one else to go searching for Lisbeth’s location. Out here, it was just Phoenix, and Phoenix had to look after its own.
“Captain?” said Second Lieutenant Karle from Arms. “This State Department vault, where Makimakala thinks Drakhil’s diary is hidden. Can we get in there? Can we steal it?” Erik glanced at him — the Arms One post further right, largely hidden behind Erik’s command displays, as everything was largely hidden, on a cluttered, intensely engineered warship bridge. “Because it seems to me that that’s what Aristan wants, and that’s what we want… so maybe Lisbeth’s not in much danger after all. Because we and Aristan seem to be going in the same direction. She’s just his insurance policy, in case we screw him over.”
Erik nodded slowly. And glanced around the bridge, inviting others to have their say. “How do we get in there?” Kaspowitz asked. As one of the three Phoenix bridge veterans, besides Shahaim and Geish, he usually felt it fell to him to ask hard questions. “Makimakala haven’t said where it is, but it’s bound to be somewhere in the heart of tavalai space. What excuse would we have to go there?”
“And then once we get there,” added the frequently-gloomy Second Lieutenant Stefan Geish, “how do we break into what’s certain to be one of the most heavily secured facilities in the known galaxy, steal something that’s been one of the State Department’s most highly prized secrets for the past fifteen thousand years at least, and then get away alive?”
“Captain,” interrupted Lieutenant Shilu at Coms One, “I have Makimakala incoming. It’s Captain Pram.”
Erik blinked on his screen icon, flashing as Shilu put it there. “Hello Captain, this is Debogande.”
“Captain Debogande,” came Pram’s familiar, throaty voice. “I’m afraid we have been summonsed to Tivorotnam Station. Both of us, effective immediately. It seems that recent events will require a full briefing to the authorities.”
Erik frowned. “Which authorities, Captain? Who has summonsed us?”
“Tavalai Fleet, Captain Debogande. And they seem no happier with me than they are with you.”
It took a full three hours for Phoenix to reach Tivorotnam Station under insystem traffic rules, a trajectory Phoenix could otherwise have achieved in minutes. And that, Erik thought grimly, was probably a large part of the problem — State Department had warned them against violent manoeuvres in Stoya III orbit, and Phoenix had not only ignored them, but threatened to fire on them. He’d been warned by Captain Pram in the strongest terms, prior to entering tavalai space, that tavalai took their rules and regulations very seriously. Breaking them, even under emergency circumstances, was not something to be done lightly, least of all by renegade human vessels only allowed in tavalai space upon the very irregular authority of the Dobruta.
Several large tavalai warships shadowed them all the way in, none quite as devastating as Makimakala or Phoenix, but making clear their very official displeasure by positioning themselves to create a crossfire of both vessels between them. Cruising up to a big tavalai commercial station filled with watchful civilians, Erik had the image of a naughty schoolboy being escorted to the headmaster’s office by several very stern teachers.
Both Phoenix and Makimakala were directed to take hub berths, then were permitted to take shuttles direct to the rim, bypassing internal station protocols. Erik supposed that marching a bunch of military humans through the middle of a busy station would create more commotion than tavalai Fleet desired. Tavalai media were reputedly even more noisy and troublesome than the human kind, and prone to asking their superiors difficult questions of the type that many human media had learned to reluctantly decline. In human space, reporters had been given strict guidelines as to what was and was not allowable during the war. But in tavalai space, telling tavalai to stop arguing was like telling them to stop breathing, and about as productive.
Erik took PH-1, which docked at an upper rim berth alongside a similar shuttle from Makimakala. No armour or weapons were allowed, and so he strode at Trace’s side with only Staff Sergeant Kono and Private Kumar for an escort. The ri
m berth was isolated from the rest of station, reserved solely for tavalai Fleet, as apparently were these entire few levels of the rim.
They were greeted at the airlock by fully armoured karasai with big guns, then escorted down bland station halls where the only other tavalai were Fleet. Erik yawned and popped his ears repeatedly in the higher tavalai air pressure, sweat already prickling on his brow from the crazy humidity. If this was what tavalai found ‘normal’, no wonder they brought their own water bottles aboard whenever they came to Phoenix — they feared dehydration in the dry human air. Passing Fleet tavalai looked at them, then studiously looked elsewhere and hurried on, as though they’d been specifically instructed not to stare. Through open doorways, Erik glimpsed offices, not unlike a human Fleet HQ. He tried to imagine what it must have been like during the war, for HQs like this, dealing with the mess created by warships like the one currently docked at the station hub, crewed by people like Trace and himself.
At an intersection corridor he met Captain Pram and his senior karasai — Djojana Naki, who was Trace’s equivalent on Makimakala, plus two more karasai guards — having docked at a shuttle berth on the opposite side of the station rim. The Makimakala crew were just as unarmed and unarmored as the humans, but they were free of armed station escort — that precaution was reserved for humans. Pram nodded to Erik, and they turned to walk the next length of hallway together.
Erik tried an uplink com for silent conversation with his counterpart, but received no icon. Perhaps Pram did not trust the local station networks. Or perhaps he did not wish to demonstrate to local Fleet just how closely he and the humans were now working — that the captains would share uplink protocols for secure, direct communications. No doubt that would raise a few eyebrows… or produce a few one-eyed squints, as was the tavalai equivalent expression. Or perhaps they just were simply in that much trouble, and talking, even silent talking, was simply not allowed.
The hallway descended some steps, then passed some big seal doors into a wide office. The far wall was mostly windows, a heavily-reinforced view of rotating stars and passing ship traffic, with the occasional glimpse of the turning Stoya III horizon. A central indentation in the floor before the windows made the ubiquitous tavalai bowl-chairs, a hollow space about a central table. Standing before it were four tavalai of varying colours, from mottled tan-brown to mottled grey-black. All four wore the uniforms of spacers — three captains and one admiral… or tvorata and ebono, as the tavalai called them.
The Admiral, whose skin was almost reddy-brown, said something in untranslated Togiri, at which the armoured karasai nodded, and clumped back to wait at the door. Pram indicated that his two unarmored karasai should join them.
“Go,” Trace said to Kono, in a low voice. “It looks official, we’ll be fine.”
“Will there be refreshments?” Kumar wondered. Another officer might have been unimpressed — the situation looked serious, Kumar was only a private amongst captains and admirals, and now he was being a smart ass.
But Trace smiled. “You wouldn’t like it Bird, tavalai don’t like sugar.”
“Figures,” Kumar complained, and went with his Staff Sergeant to the doorway. The doors hummed shut, and the command crew of Phoenix and Makimakala stood grimly opposite the line of stern-faced tavalai commanders. Erik waited for the lectures and threats to begin.
Instead, Captain Pram walked to the Admiral, and grasped him by the shoulders. The Admiral did the same back, and they both broke into chortling, snorting laughter. Erik stared, then looked incredulously at Trace. Even more amazing, Trace gave him a similar look, so astonished that her usual discipline faded. It occurred to Erik that he’d never heard a tavalai laugh. Given the circumstances in which they’d usually met, he doubted Trace had either. But now, watching Pram laugh and clap his comrade on the arms, Erik found that suddenly sad.
Pram repeated the greetings with the other captains, although with more restraint, and introduced Djojana Naki to each. And then, with both standing aside, he switched to English.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “this is Captain Debogande of the UFS Phoenix, and his marine commander, Major Thakur. Captain, Major, this is Admiral Janikanarada, Captain Delrodaprodium, Captain Toladini and Captain Panditatama. For human convenience, you may call them Admiral Janik, Captain Del, Captain Tol and Captain Pandi.”
“Captain,” said Admiral Janik, and swaggered to Erik with that familiar tavalai gait, his hand extended. “I am sorry for the great display on the way in. We had to make it look convincing.”
“Ah,” said Erik, shaking the Admiral’s hand, as Trace did in turn. “You are maintaining appearances. For the State Department?”
“Always,” said the Admiral, soberly. “Please, we will sit. Would you have a drink? No alcohol, of course.”
They went to the bowl table, which was designed for perhaps twelve and fit the eight of them comfortably. A uniformed staffer emerged with drinks, which sure enough were dry and bitter, without a hint of sweetness. But they were cool, and welcome in the oppressive humidity. Erik wished he could loosen his collar, but as an officer amongst alien officers, he could not contemplate the impropriety.
“Captain,” Admiral Janik said to Erik, “my sympathies about your sister. I am sorry that we cannot help you track her, for Fleet are restricted in our ability to monitor tavalai civilian traffic, by tavalai domestic law. Those who abducted her will surely be using tavalai freighters, probably docking an external shuttle so as not to trouble with freighter manifests or pass inspections — on their way out of tavalai space the inspections are light, customs agents are mostly concerned with what enters our space, not with what leaves.”
“Thank you,” said Erik. He was quite certain that if he allowed it, the tavalai would sit and talk over drinks for a long time before coming to the point. Given the events of the day, he had no patience for it. “If you’ll forgive me Admiral, my ship has many pressing concerns at this moment that I’d like to address. What is this about?”
Admiral Janik blinked. “Hmm,” he said. “So.” Whether he was offended at the rushed pleasantries, or just wondering how to begin, Erik did not know or care. “I understand from my friend Captain Pram that you have recently come into some information about an item you would like to recover. An item that currently resides in a top secret State Department vault.”
Erik and Trace both shot Captain Pram alarmed looks. “I should have explained,” said Pram, “but there was no time. Admiral Janik and I go back a long way. We both have similar feelings about the State Department. These feelings are shared by a large portion of the tavalai Fleet.”
“I was under the impression that the Dobruta are not popular amongst your Fleet either,” Erik replied.
“The two are not exclusive,” said Pram. “You must understand. Under this State Department, we have had many small wars, and just recently have lost a very large one. Many in Fleet are not impressed at how the war began in the first place, nor how it’s been prosecuted since. We have lost so many lives, Captain. As humans have.”
“More,” said one of the other tavalai captains, grimly. “Many, many more.” His tone was resentful. Erik spared him a glance, watchfully.
“And now there is the matter with the sard,” said Admiral Janik. “All policies dictated by State Department, as you call them. Before that, as you’ll know, it was the krim.”
“We know,” said Erik, with another glance at the resentful captain. That captain looked aside… perhaps an acknowledgement that his species weren’t the only ones with cause for resentment.
“For thousands of years, the State Department in its many varieties has managed these affairs,” Janik pressed. “Many in Fleet do not feel they have managed it well. I cannot tell you exactly what we want to do about this — that decision is far above my rank. But I can tell you that State Department is most obscure in their ways, when they have in the past promised to be transparent. Some of those secrets, they hide in a vault.”
E
rik opened his mouth to say ‘ah’… and stopped it. He looked at Trace. Trace’s look was wary. It didn’t take a very suspicious person, at this point, to smell an enormous set-up. “Let me guess,” said Erik. “You, too, know of things hidden in a very secret State Department vault that you would like to see for yourself.”
“You guess correctly,” said Janik.
“And you can’t get access officially, because getting anything from State Department bureaucracy is like trying to get blood from a stone.”
“Interesting analogy,” said Janik, unblinkingly serious. “And also correct.”
“And so in typical tavalai style, you need someone else to take all your risks for you, so that if we get caught, you can deny all knowledge and blame it on the crazy renegade humans.”
Janik might have smiled, that inward swivel of wide-set eyes. “You’re very good at this guessing business, Captain Debogande. You might like to try a casino, I believe they’re called in English?”
“Wait,” said Trace, interjecting with her finger point-down on the table. “Let’s be clear about this. You want to help us to rob the State Department’s most secure vault?”
“A crazy notion that I will deny to my dying breath should I be accused of it,” Janik answered. “But yes.”
“And why should we trust you?”
“Because firstly,” said Janik, “if you wish to recover the item in question, I believe you have no other choice. Those are quite rare, they don’t exactly grow on riverbanks. And secondly, the worst that could happen to Phoenix in this venture is that you could all die, and your ship be destroyed. Believe me, in tavalai space, there are far more simple ways for me to arrange that. If I wanted you harmed, I’d choose a method far less potentially incriminating to myself, don’t you think?”
“You want to help?” said Erik. “You could start by telling us where this vault is.”
Kantovan Vault (The Spiral Wars Book 3) Page 13
