Stand Against The Storm (The Maxwell Saga Book 4)

by Peter Grant

  “I brewed a pot less than half an hour ago, Sir. There’s still plenty left, if you’d like some.”

  “Yes, please. The locals serve coffee so thick you could use it for axle grease!”

  Cups in hand, they sat down in the two chairs in front of Steve’s battered, scarred desk. Wu began, “I spent half an hour talking with the Eksalansari this morning. He thinks very highly of you indeed.”

  Steve flushed a little. “I’m glad, Sir, but I think there’s a bit of hero-worship involved. He may be making too much of his rescue.”

  “I don’t think so, and neither does Lieutenant-Colonel Battista or Major Emory. I spent half an hour with them, and I paid a visit to the Qianjin chargé d’affaires as well.”

  Steve’s eyebrows rose. “You’ve been busy, Sir.”

  “Yes, I have. That’s why I’m here. Your relationship with the Dragon Tong obviously goes a lot further than mere casual contact. I’m not suggesting you’re a member, of course. Mr. Jiang adamantly denied the very thought, and I have no reason to disbelieve him. Nevertheless, I find it more than a little intriguing that so many hardened criminals – and let’s face it, that’s what those spacers are, no matter how professional they may be – jumped every time you said ‘Frog’, and lent you their assistance to rescue the hostages when there was nothing in it for them at all, after first refusing to help. Clearly you have some kind of hold or influence over them. It can’t be just your leadership qualities, good though they undoubtedly are, so what is it?”

  Steve flinched inwardly. Ever since he joined the Fleet, he’d been afraid someone would ask this question. He said slowly, “I’m sorry, Sir, but that’s a private matter. It doesn’t concern the Fleet.”

  Wu looked sharply at him. “The fact that I’m asking the question proves that it does!”

  “I’m sorry, Sir, but I’m not able to discuss it.”

  Wu stared at him in disbelief. “And if I make it a direct order?”

  Steve looked at him impassively. “Then I guess I’m going to get another reprimand on my file, Sir, or even a court-martial; but given that I already have the first, and I’ve been all but promised the second by Captain Davis, I don’t suppose second doses of the same medicines will harm my career any more than it’s already been damaged. I already knew, prior to this discussion, that I no longer have a future in the Fleet. This will simply double down on that.” Steve knew he couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice, but found that he no longer cared.

  Wu slammed down his coffee mug hard enough to slosh some of its contents over the rim and onto the desk. He opened his mouth to speak, his face dark with anger, but visibly restrained himself. He sat back slowly, looking intently at Steve, clearly thinking hard. Steve stared right back at him. After the events of the past few weeks, particularly those of the previous evening, many of his former priorities no longer seemed important.

  At last Wu said slowly, “Let’s forget that last exchange. Can you put aside your resentment against Captain Davis and give me the benefit of the doubt? Will you listen with an open mind?”

  Steve blinked. For so senior an officer to be so conciliatory in the face of such defiance meant that this really was important. “I… I’ll try, Sir.”

  “Very well. Let me set this out from my perspective as a professional Intelligence officer. Amongst other things, I’ve been involved with the fight against piracy for a long time. I’ve also learned something about the Dragon Tong over the years. The Fleet seldom has anything to do with them except when they try to smuggle goods onto or off planets whose security we help safeguard. I know they operate several space freight lines owning scores of spaceships. Some of them we’ve identified; others are still unknown. The Tong’s largely a closed book to law enforcement because of their rigorous security, but one thing we do know is that they’re strongly opposed to piracy, because their ships have been victims of pirates from time to time.”

  Steve couldn’t help grinning. “Usually it’s a mistake the pirates in question don’t get to make twice, Sir. The Dragons’ methods of retaliation are pretty permanent – not only as punishment but as an example, to teach other would-be pirates to leave their ships and crews alone. They make sure to leave a few survivors every time to spread the word. As a result, they don’t have very much trouble.”

  “I can see how that would get their point across.” Wu covered a slight smile with his hand, watching Steve carefully all the time. “The fact that you know that much about them also indicates a better than passing acquaintance with them.” He waited for an answer, but none came. Shrugging, he continued, “I was hoping very much to use your ties to the Tong to find out whether they’d be willing to provide the Fleet with information about piracy. If anyone in the settled galaxy is in a position to provide such intelligence, it’s them; and we’re in a position to make better use of it than almost anyone else, which would benefit them as well as space commerce in general. You seem to have influence with them at a level I’ve never encountered before outside criminal circles. That’s why I’m so interested in finding out more.”

  Steve was silent, thinking hard, and Wu waited patiently. At last Steve said softly, “Sir, may I suggest we continue this discussion in your shuttle?” He looked the Commodore in the eye while tapping his ear gently with a finger.

  Wu’s eyes widened. He clearly understood Steve’s warning. “Very well.”

  They walked out of the Admin building, across to the main gate, and out onto the hardstand. When they reached the assault shuttle Wu invited the pilot and loadmaster to go into the depot and get some coffee and refreshments from the Marines. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to proceed.”

  “Aye aye, Sir,” the pilot acknowledged, his voice puzzled; but he and the loadmaster headed for the gates. As they did so, Steve used the control panel to raise the rear ramp and lock himself and Wu inside; then he checked all the internal recorders to ensure they were switched off. The Commodore’s eyebrows rose again as he watched him.

  Wu pulled down a seat in the load compartment. As Steve joined him, he said, “Very well, Lieutenant. We’re alone in a Marine assault shuttle. I presume that’s the most secure environment around here.”

  “Yes, Sir. There’s an overriding condition to this discussion. It’s that this conversation must remain between the two of us, off the record, and must never – I say again, never – be discussed with anyone else, inside or outside the Fleet. It’s got to be totally, absolutely confidential. You need to understand that there are no exceptions to that, Sir. If the Tong ever learns about this conversation, it may kill you – and I mean that quite literally. It will kill me for sure.”

  Wu gazed at him in astonishment. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  Steve nodded soberly.

  The Commodore thought for a moment, then sighed. “I may regret this, but very well, Lieutenant. You have my word. This is off the record and strictly private.”

  “Thank you, Sir. It’s a long story. It started thirteen and a half years ago.”

  It took Steve almost half an hour to describe his first encounters with the Dragon and Lotus Tongs on Earth’s Cargo Terminal, his unwitting acquisition of the jade knife, and how with Bosun Cardle’s help he’d learned what it really was. He explained how he’d approached the Dragon Tong on Vesta to save his life after learning that others were looking for the knife, and how he’d fooled the Tong into thinking he’d been looking for it on their behalf for over a decade.

  “And all this time you’ve had it in your possession?” Wu demanded, clearly fascinated by the tale.

  “Yes, Sir, safely locked away where no-one would be likely to find it.”

  “Couldn’t you have found an opportunity to get rid of it before this?”

  “Not if I wanted to trade the knife for information, Sir. I’ll say more about that in a moment. I’ve spent the last decade building up the best cover story I could. If the Tong ever suspects I’ve had it since Old Home Earth, they won’t lis
ten to any excuses. They’ll regard me as a double-crosser and come after me with everything they’ve got. I’ve worked hard to build up an unimpeachable story of how I looked for and eventually found it. That’s going to culminate in a handover very soon, Sir. In fact, I was making arrangements to do that on Cassius when I was recalled to my ship to come here.” Steve didn’t think it wise to inform the Commodore that the knife was in LCS Cybele’s safe right now. Despite his promise, he might be tempted to seize it and use it as a bargaining counter with the Tong for information about piracy – but that would leave Steve out in the cold.

  “By the way, Sir, my relationship with the Tong has already helped you once. Remember how, on Midrash, the police were surprised to receive information from an anonymous source about whose comm circuits to tap in order to learn more about the smuggling and assassination attempt?”

  “Yes, I remember. Was that you?”

  “It was the Tong, Sir. I made contact with their local representative and asked for help. They won’t normally assist law enforcement at all, but thanks to my relationship with them they unbent in that specific instance, to help keep me alive. That’s why it won’t help to ask them to provide information to the Fleet, Sir. They won’t normally help any law enforcement or related agency or authority. That’s just the way it is. However, I already have an initial and tentative commitment from one of their leaders on Vesta that if I find the knife for them, when I need it – in other words, when I’m in a position to do something concrete with it – they’ll consider providing me with information about pirates and piracy in my personal capacity. That’s what I meant about trading the knife for information.”

  Wu’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “That’s magnificent! If it pans out, you could be the best-informed officer in Fleet history when it comes to piracy!”

  Steve shook his head. “Not after Captain Davis’ reprimand and threats of court-martial, Sir. When I made the decision to try to rescue the hostages, I accepted then and there that my Fleet career was over. After all, he’d promised to court-martial me for any further breach of his orders. I’ll still ask the Tong for information, and I’ll still use it against pirates. I owe that to Vince Cardle. However, I’ll do so as a private citizen running my own operation.”

  “A private citizen will never be able to afford all the resources that the Fleet can provide,” the Commodore objected, frowning.

  “Yes, Sir, but I’ll be able to afford more than most. Thanks to the prize money my wife and I earned at Rolla we own a very nice home free and clear, we’re debt free, and we’ve got over twenty million credits in the bank. I wasn’t going to accept the reward for the jade knife, but given my present situation I’ll ask the Tong to give me a ship instead of the money, and help me to fit it out as an anti-pirate vessel.”

  Wu’s eyes were bright with interest. “A Q-ship, you mean?”

  “Yes, Sir. She’ll look like any other tramp freighter, but carry concealed missiles, laser cannon and sensors. Any pirate attacking her will find the tables turned before he can figure out what’s happened. Once I have her, it’ll be up to me to make my fight against piracy pay for itself. The more I capture from them, the more I’ll have available to fund future operations.”

  “But where will you base your ship? Commonwealth planets generally don’t issue operating licenses for armed spaceships to civilians.”

  “Yes, Sir, but I’m willing to bet Rolla will give me one and grant me basing facilities after what happened there a couple of years ago. If not, after rescuing the Eksalansari I suspect I won’t have much trouble getting a license to operate from Karabak. Finally there’s Qianjin itself, or another planet where the Dragons have influence. Merchant spacer scuttlebutt is that there are at least half a dozen planets, maybe twice as many, that will bend over backwards to help the Tong. A word from them should open quite a few doors to me.”

  Wu nodded slowly. “You seem to have thought of everything. Having seen your initiative and competence in action at Midrash and again here, I’ve no doubt you’ll succeed, but only on a small scale compared to what you could achieve with all the resources of the Fleet available to you.”

  “Yes, Sir, but with a reprimand like Captain Davis’ on my record, and his promise of a court-martial, you know as well as I do that I may as well accept the inevitable and resign my commission. I’ve no future in the Fleet anymore.”

  “And if that were to change?”

  Steve looked at him for a long moment. “I don’t see how it can change, Sir. Even if I’m not court-martialed, or found not guilty, the competition for advancement is so stiff that with a reprimand like that on my record, no matter how well I’ve done elsewhere, it’s going to be like an anchor holding me back. No Selection Board is ever going to recommend me for promotion again.”

  “You have a point; but reprimands can be withdrawn, and their after-effects can be offset by other factors.” The Commodore thought for a moment. “I can’t make any promises right now, but I think that within three months I can provide you with proof positive that your career is not only intact, but flourishing. Will you give me three months?”

  Now it was Steve’s turn to think hard. “I… I guess I have to, Sir. If you’re prepared to go to what must be a heck of a lot of trouble on my behalf, the least I can do is give you a chance to make it work.”

  Wu exhaled in relief. “Thank you. There’s an ulterior motive behind my offer. If I can turn things around I want you to work with me in BuIntel, using what you learn in your personal capacity from the Dragon Tong to help our anti-piracy operations overall. Also, by rescuing the Eksalansari you’ve gained an inside line to Karabak’s Royal Family. I spoke with him this morning about that. It’s a wonderful opportunity for us, through you, to boost cooperation with Karabak against piracy in this part of the settled galaxy, where it’s a real problem. By using your connections to the Dragon Tong and Karabak, BuIntel may make better progress than we have for a long time. In return for your cooperation and top performance I’ll guarantee you plenty of opportunities for advancement, including early command responsibilities. You’ll work for me directly for at least the first couple of years. Interested?”

  Steve grinned, suddenly feeling enormously relieved. “How can I refuse an offer like that, Sir?”

  “Good man! I’ll provide initial evidence of my bona fides this very day. You’ll know it when you see it.”

  Steve wanted to ask what Wu had in mind, but decided discretion was the better part of valor at a time like this. He settled for, “Thank you, Sir; and I apologize for any offense caused by my earlier remarks. I’m afraid I wasn’t at my best.”

  “No, you weren’t. We’ll put it down to post-combat stress, and forget you said anything.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Very well. Give me back my pilot and loadmaster. I’ve got a lot more work to do today.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Captain Davis and his Department of State adviser, Mr. Mixson, were waiting in the Captain’s office when Commodore Wu was shown in, escorted by LCS Matapan’s Executive Officer.

  “Good to see you again, gentlemen,” Wu said briskly as they sat down. “Thank you for making time to see me.”

  “You said it was urgent, Sir,” the Captain pointed out uneasily.

  “Yes, it is. I’ve had discussions with Governor Sirhan and the Eksalansari yesterday and this morning. I’m afraid they’ve put the two of you in a very difficult position.”

  Alarm showed in both men’s faces. “Why us in particular, Sir?” Mixson asked apprehensively.

  “Two reasons. The first is that both the Governor and the Eksalansari feel under an obligation to Senior Lieutenant Maxwell, because he rescued first the Eksalansari, then the Governor’s wife. They take your criticism of him very personally. That leads to the second point, Captain: your conversation with Maxwell following the attack on the supply depot at Carsamba. You used a radio circuit. The Eskishi authorities recorded it.

  The Captai
n sat bolt upright. “But, Sir, that’s… how could they do that? Why?”

  The Commodore shook his head. “During the Second Global War on Old Home Earth the German Wehrmacht had a saying: ‘Alle funkverkehr ist landesverrat’. It means that all radio traffic is a betrayal of one’s country. It was intended to drive home the point that an enemy can glean information from any radio transmission – not just its contents, which they may or may not be able to read, but also callsigns, traffic patterns, code changes and so on. As you can imagine, we take that very seriously in BuIntel. In this case, forces planetside were monitoring all channels to listen to what the rebels were saying to each other. It’s hardly surprising they picked up your transmission as well, particularly because you failed to encrypt it.” He looked at him severely.

  The Captain went white. “I… I thought using the Marine’s frequency-hopping network meant that wasn’t necessary, Sir.”

  “It is if listeners have frequency-hopping receivers, with AI software that can predict and follow the movement of transmissions up and down the spectrum. That’s opened up a real can of worms, because while reprimanding Maxwell you said, and I quote verbatim, ‘I don’t care about the hostages. Neither does the Department of State,’ unquote.”

  “I… I don’t recall using those words, Sir.”

  “You did.” Wu sighed theatrically. “The Governor was furious. It seems that not only was his wife one of the hostages about which you said you and State don’t care, but she’s also the Sultan’s cousin, and very close to him – they grew up together. Sirhan warned me that when the Eksalansari mentions that conversation to his father, the Sultan is going to be livid. He’ll almost certainly instruct Karabak’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs to take it up with the Commonwealth’s Department of State. If that happens, I’m sure I don’t need to tell either of you that your careers are going to be so much chopped liver.”

  There was a long silence in the office. Both men were staring wide-eyed at the Commodore, unblinking, as if they’d been hypnotized. At last Mr. Mixson said, his voice hoarse, “Can… can you persuade the Governor and the Eksalansari not to do that, Commodore?”