Stand Against The Storm (The Maxwell Saga Book 4)

by Peter Grant

  “What do you mean, ‘we’, Lieutenant? We can hardly stand between them and the Governor.”

  “Sir, when they agreed to work for us, on behalf of the fleet I guaranteed they’d be treated well and with respect. Forcing them to do this would break that promise. We can’t honorably do that, Sir. As long as they’re under our discipline and working for us, we can’t abandon our duty of care to them. Quite apart from that, they helped save all the hostages the other night, including Major Emory. How can we possibly reward their help by forcing them into greater danger, Sir?”

  Battista nodded slowly in the screen before them. “I take your point, Lieutenant. Is there anything we can do in practical terms?”

  Steve thought for a moment. “With your permission, Sir, I’ll ask whether any of them would be willing to volunteer for this as a way to free the hostages. At least that way we won’t be forcing them.”

  “Very well, discuss it with their leaders and let me know what they have to say.”

  “Aye aye, Sir.”

  When the Lieutenant-Colonel had signed off, Emory looked at Steve. “Do you really think there’s any chance at all the Qianjin spacers will co-operate?”

  “No, Sir, I don’t. If I were in their shoes, I wouldn’t either. It’d mean being shoehorned into a strange ship with who knows how many armed rebels, very few of whom are probably trained spacers and most of whom won’t give a damn about shipboard discipline. Even without the fact that the rebels targeted the Qianjin prisoners earlier, the risks involved in a long space voyage with passengers like that are horrendous.”

  “I take your point.” He sighed. “We’ve managed to sneak nanobugs and flitterbugs into each of the rebel-held sites, so we’re monitoring what they’re doing and passing that on to the Governor. I hope that helps him find a solution. In case it doesn’t, let’s talk to the Qianjin spacers’ officers and hear what they have to say.”

  “Aye aye, Sir.”

  It didn’t take long to summon the two Captains, their First Mates and Mr. Jiang. Steve led them into a small room in the Administration building set aside for meetings. Major Emory explained what Lieutenant-Colonel Battista had said, and Steve asked whether they thought any volunteers might be forthcoming. The Qianjin spacers’ response was immediate, emphatic and unanimous.

  Captain Chun exclaimed, “What’s that colorful expression I’ve heard some of your Marines use? ‘Not a snowball’s chance in hell’!”

  “That says it for me too,” Captain Qiu agreed. “We’ve already been promised commutation of our sentences and a passage home. Why should we risk that to go back into danger?”

  First Mate Ya nodded soberly. “I respectfully remind you, Major, that these rebels and their sympathizers have already killed or wounded almost a third of our number. We can’t trust them not to do the same to the rest of us if we put ourselves into their hands.”

  Steve protested, “But if they’re relying on you to get them to safety, they won’t treat you badly. They can’t! It’d be committing suicide!”

  Ya’s counterpart, First Mate Kun, pointed out, “That might be true during the voyage, Senior Lieutenant, but what about after we arrive? We don’t know where they want to go or what may await us there.”

  Chun added, “We’ve already been the victims of one lawless planet – that’s how we landed up here in the first place. I’m not going to expose myself or my crew to that risk again if I can help it.”

  Steve couldn’t help an inward grin at the thought of members of the Dragon Tong, of all people, arguing that a planet was ‘lawless’. After all, the organization’s entire raison d’être was to fold, spindle and mutilate almost all planetary and interplanetary laws. However, he diplomatically suppressed any outward sign of his amusement.

  Jiang added in a severe tone, “Given the sort of planet that might be expected to provide sanctuary to a group of rebels like these, one can’t help but wonder how safe it would be for anyone else. What’s more, it worries me that the Governor would even consider asking for this sort of help from spacers who’ve already been promised commutation of their sentences. It feels like he’s taking them for granted, like pawns on a chessboard to be played and sacrificed at will.”

  “He’s probably more than a little desperate,” Major Emory pointed out soberly. “He’s got hundreds of hostages in rebel hands, including almost two hundred children. They’re threatening to kill them all unless their demands are met. When you think about it, what have the rebels got to lose? If they don’t get away they’re either going to be executed, or killed fighting, or stay on this planet in very unpleasant conditions until they die. Set against that, the lives of hostages may not seem very important to them.”

  Captain Chun said somberly, “I understand the pressures the Governor is under. However, I can’t help but suspect that he wants to put us under moral pressure as well. He wants us to feel that we’ll somehow be responsible for the deaths of those children if we don’t help.”

  “We won’t, of course,” Qiu agreed. “We’re not part of the problem at all.”

  “I can’t blame you for feeling like that,” Emory reluctantly agreed. “I’ll inform Lieutenant-Colonel Battista of your position.”

  Jiang said, very seriously, “Major, my countrymen agreed to help you here in return for good treatment. They’ve even taken up arms to help you and defend this place, and played a major role in the rescue of your hostages. After all that, I trust the Marines won’t simply hand them over to the Governor so he can force them to go along with his wishes?”

  “No, we won’t.” The four Spacers and the chargé visibly relaxed as Emory gave that assurance. “Senior Lieutenant Maxwell pointed out to Lieutenant-Colonel Battista that the Fleet has a ‘duty of care’ towards you in return for your help. I think that puts it in a nutshell.” He rose to his feet. “I’ve got to get these rations distributed as quickly as possible. Thank you again for all you’ve done with and for us. We couldn’t have released the hostages without your help. Since I was one of them, I take that very personally!”

  Steve returned from seeing the convoy off to find the four Spacers waiting for him. Captain Chun said, “Senior Lieutenant, we wanted to tell you how grateful we were that you stood up for us to Lieutenant-Colonel Battista. Some officers wouldn’t have done so. We won’t forget.”

  Steve shook the hand he held out. “It was the least I could do, Captain. You’ve earned my personal gratitude as well as the protection of the Fleet.”

  Inwardly he couldn’t help thinking; I hope it’ll be enough. The pressure on the Governor has got to be immense.

  ~ ~ ~

  Bairam slammed his fist on the table. “Damn those elitist Qianjin scum! They’re convicts just like us, so what the hell gives them the right to act like they’re better than us? They wouldn’t help us fight during the rebellion, and now when we’ve got an open road outta here they won’t help us take it! It’s always them first and the Devil take the rest of us!”

  The three surviving members of the leadership council looked at him in glum desperation. “Couldn’t the Governor offer a reward to whoever volunteered for the job?” Luna asked.

  “He says he tried that, an’ all his spacers turned him down flat.”

  “If I was in their shoes I’d probably feel that way too,” Mariam pointed out unwillingly.

  “Yeah,” Orhan agreed. “I can’t blame them – even though it puts us in a hell of a spot.”

  Bairam snorted. “Well, I blame ’em! We’re all convicts together on this rock, even though they seem t’ have forgotten that!” He thought for a moment. “Wait while I call Turgay. We need expert advice.”

  They sat in silence until he returned with the older man. He explained the situation to Turgay. “What I need to know is, how many people do we need to run a freighter like that? What’s the minimum crew it’ll need?”

  Turgay thought for a moment. “To run the ship itself, a minimum of ten spacers per shift, times three shifts, rotating eve
ry four hours. Call it thirty all told, including at least one officer on each shift. At least half a dozen will have to be engineering techs, and it’d help to have a qualified engineer aboard in case something goes wrong. Trouble is, you’ll need a lot more than that to handle so many passengers. They’ve got to have at least two meals every day, and the environmental systems will take a lot of strain. They’ll need hands to maintain them and fix ’em when they break down. How long will the journey take? Where’s the ship going?”

  “I’d rather not say just yet, in case it leaks out. Let’s say the trip will take two to three weeks.”

  “OK. That’s a big load on the environmental systems over a long period. They’re bound to give trouble.” He thought in silence once more, then said, “Reckon at least twenty people per shift to get food from storage and prepare it, and look after the environmental systems. Some will have to be pretty good handymen, and you’ll need experienced galley staff as well – cooks an’ so on. Adding them to your spacers, you’re looking at thirty people per shift, ninety total in the crew, at least a third of them qualified spacers. That’s a rock-bottom minimum. More would be better.”

  “You’re figuring on four-hour shifts, right?” Orhan asked, and Turgay nodded. “Could the crew work longer shifts – say, eight hours on instead of four? Wouldn’t that reduce crew numbers?”

  The old spacer shook his head. “People get tired. When they’re tired they make mistakes. When they get very tired – and after a couple of weeks of that schedule, they will – they make very big mistakes. There’s a universe full of vacuum out there. It only takes one error for it to kill you. Trust me. I know. I’ve seen too many experienced spacers die to have any illusions about that.”

  “Okay, we need ninety people,” Bairam interrupted. “You said you’d ask around. How many spacers did you find?”

  “There’s me an’ five others. Four of ’em have enough experience and training to be useful. The fifth had just started his apprenticeship when he got caught aboard a smuggler and sent here. He may be able to help in a small way, but no more than that.”

  “No officers? No engineers or techs?”

  “I’m the most senior spacer you got. I could do a Watch Officer’s job if I had to, but I can’t astrogate. O’ course, that ain’t necessarily a problem once the course has been calculated. After it’s entered into the navigation computers, all I’d have to do is tell the ship to jump to the next waypoint as soon as the capacitor ring was recharged. We’ll still need someone to do the setup, though.”

  “All right. If we can find a crew, we’re gonna send everyone away on the ship except a few who’ll stay here to guard some hostages. We’ll put ’em in orbit in a cargo shuttle or something like that, with basic facilities an’ enough food to last until a message can get back here sayin’ the others made it. How many spacers would we need to handle something like that for a month to six weeks?”

  Turgay frowned. “I don’t get it. How will they get away afterwards if the ship’s long gone?”

  “Never mind that for now, and don’t worry about guardin’ the hostages. You don’t have to be a spacer to be a guard. How many?”

  “At least two spacers to a shift, times three shifts a day. That makes six. At least one of ’em would have to be the equivalent of a Watch Officer.”

  “All right. We need thirty-six spacers in all – our five plus thirty-one more – and sixty support workers who don’t have to be spacers, so our regular folks can do those jobs. Thanks, Turgay. That gives me a target to shoot for. Don’t go far away. I’m gonna need you again real soon now.”

  “OK, Boss.”

  As the spacer closed the door behind him, Bairam turned to the others. “So now we know how many we need. I guess it’s time to show the Governor we ain’t jokin’.”

  “What do you mean?” Luna asked nervously.

  “We’re gonna kill some hostages.”

  She jumped to her feet. “Not the kids! No way! I –”

  Bairam erupted from his chair. “SHUT UP!” Rage made his voice tremble as his right hand clutched the grips of the pulser thrust into his waistband. Luna goggled at him, momentarily speechless, as he went on, “There’s no time left to play nice! We’ve got hostages, an’ we’re gonna use up as many of them as we need to get off this rock. That’s the way it is. You got two choices, Luna. Get with the program, or I’ll kill you where you stand. Choose, an’ choose real quick, or I’m gonna pick the second option for you! I’ve had enough of your crap!”

  Mariam spoke up from her seat at the table. Her voice was cold. “He’s right, Luna. We’re down to the wire now. There’s no place for sentimentality anymore.”

  Luna looked appealingly at Orhan, but he stared back impassively. “That’s the way it’s gotta be. Sorry, Luna. There’s no other way.”

  Her shoulders slumped. She began to sit as she said softly, “If there’s no other way…” Her hands reached for the table to support herself, then suddenly changed direction as she thrust the chair back with her legs. She threw herself sideways as she grabbed at her handgun, but Bairam hadn’t been fooled. His pulser came clear of his waistband as he straightened, his arms braced in a double-handed shooting stance, and he tracked her body through his sights as she fell to the floor. Before she even landed he pumped a round into her body, then another as she cried out in agony and hit the bare floor, followed by a third into her head as she arched her back. Her body jerked, then went limp. Her pulser fell from her hand to the floor with a clatter.

  Bairam replaced his pulser in his waistband, then bent and picked up her weapon, reapplying the safety catch and setting it on the table in front of his chair. “That’s it, then. Three of us leaders left. I’ll tell Luna’s second to take over her unit. I’m guessin’ neither of you has any objection to us getting real with the Governor?”

  Orhan shrugged. “It’s not like he’s left us much choice. What do you want us to do?”

  “We’ll assign a letter to each place we hold, A through D. Inside each place we’ll number the hostages, one through however many there are. Give ’em slips of paper with their number on it, or write a number next to each name on the list – whatever works for you. I’ll tell the Governor that we’re gonna draw one letter an’ one number every hour on the hour, startin’ at eight tomorrow mornin’. That hostage is gonna get shoved out the door an’ shot in full view of everyone. No-one’s exempt – male or female, old or young, whatever. We’re gonna do that all day tomorrow, then at eight the next morning we’ll go to one every half an hour. The following day it’ll be one every quarter hour. If he tries to stop us, we’ll blow our explosives an’ all die together. If he wants to stop the killin’, he’ll have t’ find some way to make thirty-one of those Qianjin spacers help us. If they won’t he’s gonna see a lot of his people die, includin’ his wife when her number comes up.”

  None of them had noticed the tiny spider-like creature crouched in a poorly-lit corner of the ceiling. Its two glass ‘eyes’ surveyed the room with unblinking intensity. The ultra-sensitive microphone mounted below them relayed every sound in the room to another, larger nanobug on the floor immediately above. That bug in turn passed its signals through several more relays to an almost invisible hoversat high above the compound, which sent them through a tight-beam laser link into the Marine battalion’s Operations Center.

  Inside the OpCen Lieutenant-Colonel Battista and Major Emory stood riveted as they watched the drama play out. As Bairam outlined his plans, Emory sucked in his breath. “That’s going to play hell, Sir! The Qianjin spacers won’t budge. They’ve no reason to trust the Governor, and even less to trust the rebels who’ve already killed so many of them. This is going to be a case of the irresistible force meeting the immovable object.”

  Battista shook his head. “You’re right, but the Governor may try to force them to co-operate anyway. He’ll do anything to prevent mass murder, and as far as he’s concerned the fate of a few more convicts – which is how he sees
those spacers – matters less than the lives of innocent hostages.”

  “We’d better give Maxwell a heads-up. He’ll have to tell the Qianjin leaders about this.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better if he kept quiet about it, so they didn’t have any warning?”

  “They’re already armed, Sir, and they already suspect the Governor’s intentions. The only way he could arrest them is to pull enough of the Colonial Guards away from the hostage sites to overcome their resistance. If he does that, the rebels are bound to see it happening and launch attacks of their own. If we want to prevent that happening and stop a bloodbath, it’s going to be up to Maxwell to pull a rabbit out of the hat somehow.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Steve stared into the comm terminal, stomach turning to ice as he absorbed what Lieutenant-Colonel Battista had just told him.

  “I… I’ll talk to them again, Sir,” he said at last, desperation in his tone, “but I already know what their answer’s going to be. It’s…” His voice died away as a sudden thought came to him. What if I can use the jade knife as a bargaining counter? He didn’t realize that his mouth was still open as he stood there, eyes far away as he pondered.

  “What is it, Lieutenant?” He didn’t miss the sudden flicker of hope in Battista’s voice.

  “I may have thought of something,” he said slowly. “I don’t know whether it will work, and there’s a lot to figure out, but… There’s one thing, Sir. If I’m to make this work, I’m going to have to move fast and do an awful lot without having time to ask permission. I need a free hand, Sir – permission to do whatever I have to and whatever it takes to make this succeed.”