Stand Against The Storm (The Maxwell Saga Book 4)

by Peter Grant

  Turgay snorted. “Try askin’ the Governor why his people treated us like dirt down there. You push a man around long enough and hard enough, time comes he’s gonna reckon he’s got nothin’ t’ lose by pushin’ back. We were all more’n ready to do that. Bairam just happened to be on hand t’ organize the pushin’, that’s all. If he hadn’t done it, someone else woulda started something.”

  “I see… I guess.”

  “Naw. You don’t see.” The old spacer’s voice was bitter. “You can’t, ’less you’ve been treated like that. It changes you. You get to the point where you reckon, ‘OK, if you’re gonna treat me like a cur dog, I’m gonna behave like one an’ bite the hell outta you. See how you like it then!’ That’s what we did. That’s what we’re still doin’. That’s why those hostages are in that shuttle, an’ why Bairam don’t care what happens to ’em. I’m kinda sick at myself that I can’t really blame him. He wasn’t always like that, an’ I wasn’t either. This damn planet’s made us that way.”

  As the spacer disappeared into the airlock, the Sergeant turned to the pilot. “Ray, soon as you’re clear of the docking bay get me a secure link to Flight Ops, would you? I’ve got to pass this up the line to Battalion HQ ASAP.”

  “I heard him. Nicely done, drawing him out like that. Will do.”

  ~ ~ ~

  At midnight Steve and Kinnear donned headphones and throat microphones. Above them on the hull of the cargo shuttle a tight-beam dish was permanently locked on a heading many degrees away from all known spaceships and orbital installations. A thousand kilometers away down that bearing a Marine assault shuttle was in a powered orbit, stationary in relation to the cargo shuttle, all its stealth features and systems engaged, imitating a hole in space. Its weapon system operator saw Steve’s signal, acknowledged it, and linked it down to the planet without further ado.

  Major Emory was waiting. Speaking in a whisper, Steve told him about the day’s events. In turn, he reported on progress in processing the rebels and their families for embarkation, and what the assault shuttle’s loadmaster had learned from Turgay.

  “Thanks for passing that on, Sir,” Steve said. “It doesn’t stop us having to deal with Bairam and his people, but it helps us understand the risks involved.”

  “That’s what I figured. If anything, it means you’ve got to be even more ruthless when the time comes. You can’t afford to take chances with people like that.”

  “You said it, Sir,” Kinnear acknowledged.

  “Have you been able to make any plans yet, Gunnery Sergeant?” Emory wanted to know.

  “Not yet, Sir. It’s as we feared. We’re going to have to wait until all the hostages planetside have been freed, then take the first decent chance Bairam offers us and hope for the best.”

  “Are you sure it won’t be best to let the other rebels and their families leave the system, then take Bairam and his people once they’ve relaxed?”

  Steve responded, “I don’t think so, Sir. Bairam still hates the Governor and Eskishi’s Administration with an absolute passion. I’m afraid he may decide to kill some or all of his hostages just to spite them, as soon as he’s sure they can’t get their hands on his people any more. Also, Sir, what if he or his people decide to abuse some of the hostages? They’re not treating them well as it is, and I’m worried by the way some of them are looking at the Governor’s wife and the other female VIP’s. Once they no longer have to worry about the fate of their own people, there’ll be only their consciences to hold them back – and I think they left them planetside, what there was of them to begin with. We may have to stop them the hard way, Sir.”

  Emory’s voice sounded agitated as it came over the circuit. “But that means you may have to act when conditions are less than ideal for success. I’m tempted to say you shouldn’t intervene if that’s the case. You may have to let it happen in order to have a better chance of success later.”

  “I can’t do that, Sir,” Steve said simply.

  Emory sighed. “Understood. Use your discretion, and the very best of luck to you both. It’ll be at least thirty-six hours before all of the rebels and their families are aboard the freighter, and all the hostages planetside have been freed. You’ll just have to possess yourself in patience until then.”

  When he’d signed off, Kinnear whispered, “That’s going to be damned hard to do. I’m already tense as hell. To stay cool for another thirty-six hours stuck in here with no chance of doing anything is going to be the toughest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “You and me both, Gunny. Oh, well, it’s like they told us in Boot Camp. You shouldn’t have joined…”

  They finished the old saw together, grinning wryly: “…if you can’t take a joke!”

  July 11th 2850 GSC

  Steve was woken by a gentle, insistent shaking. “Sorry, Sir,” Gunnery Sergeant Kinnear whispered, “but you were talking in your sleep.”

  “Oh, damn it all!” Steve muttered petulantly. “Not too loud, I hope?”

  “No, Sir, although you were getting louder. I reckon the noise of the environmental systems covered it up.”

  “Was I saying anything interesting?”

  The Gunny grinned, but settled for a diplomatic “I couldn’t tell.”

  “OK. Excuse me while I crawl over you. I need to use the head.”

  Steve gingerly lifted himself over the NCO’s body, bracing himself on the handholds thoughtfully welded to the uprights in their tiny and very narrow compartment, and made use of the chemical toilet installed in one end. Kinnear tactfully turned his back while he did so.

  When Steve was finished, he readjusted his clothing. “What’s the time?”

  “Six-thirty, Sir.”

  “Our next radio schedule’s not until eight. Want to get some rest until then? I’m not tired enough to go back to sleep.”

  “Don’t mind if I do. Thanks.”

  Kinnear lay down, his broad shoulders almost touching the sides of their narrow hidey-hole. Steve looked down at his companion as he closed his eyes. The past two days had been nerve-wracking, hiding so close to enemies who’d kill them without a second thought if they heard any sound that gave them away. Even so, they’d managed to keep each other relatively sane.

  He’s a darned good man, Steve thought to himself as he gazed at his resting partner, one of the best I’ve ever served with. I wish there were more like him.

  He settled himself against the hard outer hull of the cargo shuttle and tried to relax, focusing on the spy camera images on the displays attached to the interior panel in front of him. The hostages, their guards and the crew were mostly still asleep. Only the two guards and two spacers on duty maintained their vigil.

  Steve blinked as a thought struck him. With all the hostages in here, if we have to get them out in a hurry, there might be too many to handle. I think I’ll ask Kwok to suggest to Bairam that he send some to the lifeboat. It’ll ease the overcrowding in the cargo shuttle, and give us a fighting chance to rescue everyone if push comes to shove.

  ~ ~ ~

  Lieutenant-Colonel Battista was in the middle of his morning ablutions when there came a rapid, breathless knocking at the door of his quarters. Irritated, he wiped depilatory cream from his face and raised his voice. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Major Emory, Sir.”

  “Give me a moment to finish dressing, Exec.”

  “Sorry, Sir, but it’s urgent.”

  “Oh, all right!”

  He walked to the door wearing only his uniform trousers, bare feet slapping on the cold floor. “Come in, Exec. What’s so important it couldn’t wait a few minutes?”

  Emory slid into the room, closing the door behind him. “Sir, at two this morning LCS Cybele crossed the system boundary. She’ll be entering orbit by noon.”

  Battista stiffened. “That’s Senior Lieutenant Maxwell’s ship, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Sir – and there’s more. Her arrival signal states that she has on board a Commodore Wu from the Bureau of In
telligence. He’s been sent by the Board of Admiralty on Lancaster to make a personal assessment of this operation. He’s already signaled his preliminary intentions. He wants to meet with Captain Davis and his adviser from State at thirteen aboard the troopship, then come down to the planet to meet with the Governor at seventeen. He’s asked Captain Davis to make arrangements for a formal supper with him if possible, which I suppose may involve the Eksalansari as well. After that he wants to see you, Sir.”

  “He’s not wasting time, is he? I wonder why they sent him? It’s very unusual for the Board to send a Flag Officer as a personal investigator – never mind one from BuIntel. Normally the Sector Admiral does any investigating that’s needed.”

  “He must have checked in with the Sector Admiral at Cassius already, Sir. After all, Cybele went back there to collect supplies. He could only have boarded her there.”

  “Good point. All right. What will his presence mean for Maxwell and his plans?”

  “I just don’t know, Sir.”

  They looked at each other for a long moment, eyes bright with speculation. At last Battista heaved a sigh. “Well, we’re in it up to our necks, whether we like it or not. This might resolve all our problems of command, or it might end a whole slew of careers – including ours. We’ll just have to play it by ear.”

  “And if he wants to see Maxwell, Sir?”

  “He can’t. It’s as simple as that. If necessary we’ll have to tell him what Maxwell’s up to.”

  “That’ll make Captain Davis go ballistic. He thinks Maxwell’s still tucked up safely in the supply depot. He’s officially ignored him ever since he tore that strip off him ten days ago. Hasn’t given him any further orders, hasn’t checked up on him – it’s as if he’s pretending he doesn’t exist.”

  “I suspect that in the not too distant future he’s going to be reminded – the hard way – that he does!”

  Emory grinned, nodding. “Should we tell Maxwell about his arrival, Sir?”

  His boss thought for a moment. “I think not. He can’t do anything about it, so why add to his worries? We’ll do any explaining that may be needed.” He looked warningly at his subordinate. “Remember, Exec, if there’s any can to be carried over this, it’s my responsibility. Keep your head down and say as little as possible. Let me take the heat if necessary. Clear?”

  “Aye aye, Sir.”

  “All right. Let me finish cleaning up. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Commodore Wu wasted no time in making his presence felt. As soon as LCS Cybele had settled into her parking orbit, he and Commander Doibro boarded her gig and headed for LCS Matapan.

  Captain Davis and his Department of State liaison officer, Mr. Mixson, met them at the troopship’s docking bay and escorted them to the Operations Center. After showing them on the three-dimensional Plot display the positions of the various ships in orbit and what they were doing, the Captain ushered them into the conference room that opened off the OpCen. For half an hour he and the liaison officer displayed charts, slides and images outlining what had happened since they arrived. The Commodore watched and listened impassively, saying little.

  Eventually Captain Davis concluded, “That’s the situation in a nutshell, Sir. You’ll want to go through the signal logs and other records, of course; but before you do that, may I offer you anything to eat or drink?”

  “We ate before we left Cybele, thank you. However, I’m sure we could all use a short break before continuing.”

  “Of course, Sir.”

  Commander Doibro and Mr. Mixson took the opportunity to use the heads. As they closed the door behind them, Captain Davis asked nervously, “If I may ask, Sir, why have you been sent here? Is there a problem with this mission?”

  “The Board of Admiralty was struck by the level of influence apparently being exercised by the Cassius office of the Department of State,” Wu answered slowly, reflectively. “I’ve seen your orders for this operation. They require you to adhere to the advice and counsel of State’s liaison officer to an extent I’ve never heard of before in a military operation. The Board takes a dim view of any other government department exercising that sort of control over its ships and personnel. We’ll take advice from them, but not orders. Those are the prerogative of the Fleet alone.”

  “I see, Sir. I won’t pretend we haven’t had difficulties with that here.”

  “I’m sure you have.”

  “Why did they send you in particular, Sir? Isn’t it unusual for a BuIntel Flag Officer to be used on a mission like this?”

  “I think there were three reasons. First, I’ve only just hoisted my flag – my promotion took effect last month – and I haven’t yet taken up my new appointment, so I happened to be available. Secondly, BuIntel’s Small Powers desk looks after intelligence gathering from and dissemination to hundreds of minor nations, including Karabak. I’ve worked for that department before – although not at present – and visited Karabak on its behalf, so I know something about the place. Finally, Karabak’s one of several states BuIntel is trying to persuade to co-operate more closely with the Fleet in the fight against piracy. Given all that, it probably seemed logical to the Board to send me.”

  “I see, Sir.”

  Wu seemed to hesitate for a moment. “Apart from boundaries between government departments, there may be another problem,” he said slowly. “I’ve been reading the messages forwarded to Cybele after she made her arrival signal. They cover everything affecting her during her absence, including the actions of her Navigating Officer, Senior Lieutenant Maxwell, who was left on the planet to assist the Marine Corps. I found it… curious… that after he rescued a large number of hostages, including an heir to Karabak’s throne, you saw fit to put a formal reprimand on his record. You know that’s bound to damage his career. What made you do it?”

  “He disobeyed my direct orders, Sir! He involved the Fleet in a local fight to which we’re not a party. Mr. Mixson was so angry he was almost frothing at the mouth! Besides, if I’d let Maxwell get away with disobeying my direct orders, it would have undermined discipline, Sir.”

  “Possibly… but it’s going to be interesting to hear the Sector Admiral’s views on the matter. You see, the Executive Officer of the Marine battalion – Maxwell’s temporary superior while planetside – has nominated him for, and the Battalion CO has endorsed, the award of the Lancastrian Star in Gold for valor in action and combat leadership of the highest order. The award is for precisely the same incident over which you reprimanded him.”

  Davis’ mouth fell open. He could only stare at the Commodore in shock for a few moments. He finally managed to stutter, “B – but that’s ridiculous! How can he be rewarded for disobeying orders? And why didn’t they route that citation through me, as the Senior Fleet Officer on station?”

  “It has to be routed up Maxwell’s chain of command. The next person in that chain is the Commanding Officer of LCS Cybele. They sent it to Commander Doibro in accordance with Regulations as soon as her ship arrived here, and she’s already signed off on it. I asked her not to route it to you immediately because I felt it best to first discuss with you, off the record, the… dichotomy… between a citation for the Fleet’s second-highest award for valor in action, and a formal reprimand for insubordination and disobedience to orders. That’s bound to cause all sorts of consternation and monkeyhouse when it reaches the Sector Admiral’s desk.”

  “I… I… Sir, you don’t understand! How can we reward an officer who disobeyed direct orders, no matter what the outcome of his disobedience? Maxwell involved us in the fighting here despite all orders to the contrary! You’ve no idea how frustrating it was to deal with him, Sir!”

  “As a matter of fact, I do have an idea.” The Commodore’s voice was cool. “Several years ago, when I was in charge of BuIntel’s Sector office on Midrash and he was a newly-promoted Junior Lieutenant aboard a destroyer, LCS Achilles, I made use of his services to capture a professional assassin. The lea
ders of a crime syndicate had issued a contract on his life after he intercepted a very valuable shipment of smuggled rhodium. He… let’s say he used his initiative on that occasion, too.”

  Davis sat forward almost eagerly. “Did he disregard your orders too, Sir?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. He did so well during the entire operation, and the results obtained with his help were so useful, that he received a second award of the Lancastrian Star in Bronze, as well as his second planetary combat star.”

  Captain Davis stared at his superior officer as if dumbstruck. Wu watched him impassively for a moment, then rose to his feet, stretching. “I think I’ll use the heads as well; then we’ll take a look at those signal logs, shall we?”

  ~ ~ ~

  At the same moment, Kwok came up to Bairam aboard the cargo shuttle. “There’s a call from the freighter. It’s that bosun of yours.”

  “OK.”

  Bairam followed the Qianjin spacer to the pilot’s console, where Turgay’s face stared out of a communications screen. “Whassup?” he demanded without preamble.

  “Loadin’s just about finished, Boss. We got five more shuttles to come, then everyone will be aboard. Their bags will take a bit longer, but I reckon by eighteen we’ll be ready to leave.”

  Bairam exhaled explosively with relief. “Great! I gotta admit, I was expectin’ more problems than we’ve had.”

  “I was too, Boss, but these Qianjin spacers really know their stuff. They been settlin’ each group down as it comes aboard, teachin’ ’em emergency procedures, makin’ sure they know to stay in their personnel pods an’ not wander around – everythin’ I’d be doin’ if I were in their shoes, an’ then some. The Marines have come through for us, too. I reckon they’ve stopped a lot of interference from the Eskishi people before it got started.”

  “Maybe.” Bairam’s voice was grudging. “Make sure everything’s wrapped up, then come over. Can you get a ride here?”

  “I’ll ask to use a ship’s cutter.”

  “Good. I’ll expect you at nineteen sharp. I’ll have the co-ordinates and final instructions ready for you at that time – but not before. Don’t want any Eskishi idiots getting’ ideas about grabbin’ ’em and gettin’ there ahead o’ ya t’ spoil things.”