Stand Against The Storm (The Maxwell Saga Book 4)

by Peter Grant

  “And what will be her duties, Sir?”

  “Collecting and delivering people and goods across the length and breadth of the settled galaxy, gathering intelligence in the process by both human and technological means. They might be random trips, or she might find herself dedicated to a particular project for a while. You’ll never know where you’re going to find yourself next or what you’ll be doing there. The only consolation is that you’ll call at Lancaster fairly often. That’ll allow you to spend a few days with your wife and children from time to time. We do our best to make that happen for reasons of crew morale.”

  “That’s an improvement over my posting to Cybele, Sir. That would have kept me away from home for two full years. My wife was looking into coming out to visit me at the halfway stage of my assignment, but that would have been hit-or-miss, because there was no way for her to predict Cybele’s movements.”

  “Quite so. I hope you’ll both find this more enjoyable.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” Steve hesitated. “If I may ask, Sir, why did you decide to give me a command right away? Isn’t it more usual to do a tour as Executive Officer before being appointed in command?”

  “Yes, it is, to season prospective Commanding Officers; but you’ve already commanded a heavy patrol craft, at Rolla in ’48. According to the reports of the Fleet’s Military Attaché there and Rolla’s System Patrol Service, you did very well indeed during your tour of duty there. You killed a notorious pirate and came away with your first Star in Silver, plus a Meritorious Service Medal for your efforts to train Rolla’s Spacers to take over their new patrol craft. You had to pass the Crusher to qualify for that command, which also qualifies you – given the appropriate rank, of course, which you now have – to command a Fleet communications frigate, the equivalent of our courier vessel. With that experience and your track record, I promised Rear-Admiral Serra, Commanding Officer of the Black Squadron, that you’ll be able to cope with command. It’s up to you to prove me right.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” Steve could well recall the stress and tension of the Planetary Forces Command Course, colloquially known as the ‘Crusher’. Three out of ten candidates failed – and failure meant the end of an officer’s career in any combat arm of the Fleet. “I’d forgotten for a moment that the Crusher qualified me to command minor auxiliaries as well as patrol craft.”

  “Yes. You’ll have to do the Perisher, the Fleet Commanding Officers Qualifying Course, before you can be given command of a warship or major auxiliary, and you’ll need Staff College to prepare you for the responsibilities of higher rank. If you do well with Pickle – which I fully expect – then at the end of your appointment I’ll send you on both courses. Staff College is a full academic year followed by a dissertation, while the Perisher is four months long. Four to five years from now you’ll have completed them and be ready for Commander’s rank; then we’ll see about a pirate-hunting tour of duty commanding a combat vessel based out of Karabak. How does that sound?”

  “It sounds great, Sir! I’m looking forward to it.”

  “So am I, particularly if the Dragon Tong makes good on their offer to provide you with personal intelligence about pirate activity. If they do, and if you can make use of BuIntel’s ships and your connections with Karabak to exploit it, I think we’ll obtain very useful results indeed.”

  “That’s in the future, Sir. What happens next?” Steve asked as a waiter wheeled in a trolley with their food.

  “We’ll leave for Lancaster aboard the next dispatch vessel. You’ll spend several weeks learning our procedures, meeting your crew and generally getting in the groove. I’ll give you ten days’ leave with your family before you take command of Pickle.”

  EPILOGUE: November 3rd 2850 GSC

  Abha fell into Steve’s arms as she came through the front door. “I’m exhausted! What a day it’s been!”

  “Lots of classes?” he asked sympathetically, rubbing her back as he held close.

  “Anatomy lab. Working with prosthetics is all very well, but the professors warned us that until we worked with real cadavers, we wouldn’t understand. They were right! When you’re cutting into imitation tissue you’re always aware it’s fake. You never take it very seriously. When it’s a real body, you can’t help wondering what this person was like when she was alive. What was her personality? Did she love someone? Did she have children of her own? What happened to them? It… it gives you a whole new perspective. It changes things.”

  “It should. Makes being a medical student that much more real.”

  “You’re right.” She pushed herself upright. “I desperately need a shower.”

  “Yes, you do,” he agreed, grinning as she stuck out her tongue at him. “After that, we have a dinner invitation.”

  She pouted. “I’d really been looking forward to a quiet evening with you.”

  “So had I, but this is special. It came in an anonymous message, inviting me to meet a Mr. Jiang at the Royal Golden Dragon restaurant at nineteen. I accepted for both of us.”

  Her eyes flew wide open. “The Royal Golden Dragon? But that’s…”

  “Yes, that’s the Dragon Tong’s restaurant and front organization here on Lancaster.”

  “D’you think this is about happened on Eskishi?”

  “If it’s the same Mr. Jiang, what else could it be?”

  “Let me shower and change, quick! What about the kids?”

  “Brooks and Carol will look after them this evening. I’ve already taken them over there.”

  “Bless you!” She kissed him. “It’s so nice to have our best friends living right next door. It makes this sort of thing much easier!” She was already hurrying down the corridor, stripping off her white coat as she headed for the master bedroom.

  Steve dressed in a formal evening suit as she put on an elegant black cocktail gown that made her already captivating beauty even more alluring. He caressed her stomach as she passed, and she leaned into him gently for a moment. Her brand-new pregnancy wasn’t showing, and wouldn’t have time to do so before the contents of her womb were transferred to a pod. She’d be able to continue with her medical studies while the child grew in artificial utero, to be delivered when it reached full term.

  “It still seems strange to be a father,” Steve confessed. “Every time I pick up the twins I’m amazed to see those little people staring up at me. I’m afraid I’ll break them.”

  “That’s because you haven’t been around them as much as I have. They’re not nearly as fragile now as they were just after birth. They’re almost a year old.”

  “Are you sure we haven’t started the next one too soon? Will you be able to cope?”

  “Darling, we both want more children, so why wait? Besides, we’re already sharing the cost of a child care team and a nursery with Brooks and Carol, and they’re also making eager noises about another baby. We can always hire more people as we need them.”

  “I guess so. Thank heavens for our Rolla prize money! It lets us afford them. Without their help you couldn’t possibly take the time to study medicine and pediatrics, and I couldn’t go off to command a spaceship.”

  She nodded as she stepped into simple, elegant evening shoes. “What news of the ship?”

  “Pickle’s almost ready. They’re installing the last of her special equipment this week. She’ll go out on dockyard trials next week, and if they’re satisfied and BuIntel’s inspectors pass her, I’ll commission her the following week.”

  “That’s exciting! Do I get to come to the commissioning ceremony?”

  “I’m afraid there won’t be a public ceremony at all. That’s the nature of the ship and her work.”

  “I suppose so, but I’m still sorry I can’t be there with you. I’ve never forgotten your face when you commissioned Nightingale. I’m sure you’ll command other ships in future, but I’ll bet none of them will feel quite like she did.”

  “No. One’s first command is special.”

  ~ ~ ~

&nb
sp; They hadn’t been to the Royal Golden Dragon restaurant since Steve had left Lancaster to join Cybele, almost a year before. They were therefore surprised to be greeted with a solemn bow by the maître d’hôtel, and treated with almost awed veneration by the waiter who showed them to a private dining-room.

  As they followed him Abha whispered to Steve, “What is this? They’re behaving as if we were some sort of royalty!”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m not complaining.” She giggled.

  Within a minute of their being seated the door to the dining-room opened, and Mr. Jiang stood framed in the entrance. Steve rose to greet him and introduced Abha.

  “What brings you to Lancaster?” he asked as they sat down again.

  “You do – or, rather, the impact you’ve made,” the diplomat said with a smile. “I presume it’s in order to speak freely in front of your lovely wife?”

  “It is. She helped to keep the secret of the jade knife until I could return it.”

  “Then the Tong owes you a debt of gratitude as well as your husband,” Jiang said to Abha, bowing in his seat. He turned back to Steve. “Its return to Qianjin caused… well, let me just say that I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like it. It’s now enshrined in a specially built display case in the Parliament Building in our capital city, Amur – under very heavy security, of course. In the first month it was on display over a million people visited it, and thousands still go there every week. It’s become a place of pilgrimage.”

  Steve whistled slowly. “I knew it was important to the Tong, but I had no idea it would mean so much to so many people.”

  “I think you have to study our history in depth to realize why that’s so. Remember, the knife went missing during what we regard as colonial persecution of the Tongs and Triads in British Hong Kong during the twentieth century. Since then it’s become a symbol of all the hardships we’ve endured on many planets across many centuries. To have it restored to us, and not just to our people but to the Dragon Tong in particular… it’s as if it were a sign of benevolent favor from our distant ancestors, something out of myth and legend and fable come to life.”

  Abha asked thoughtfully, “Have other Tongs or Triads had anything to say about it?”

  Jiang laughed. “Some tried to cast doubts upon its authenticity, so we invited them to send representatives to inspect it for themselves. All who’ve so far accepted our invitation have been convinced. It’s boosted our status enormously.” He put his forearms on the table and leaned forward. “I might add that your extreme generosity caused no little stir among the Council, Lieutenant – no, it’s Commander now, isn’t it?”

  “Lieutenant-Commander, actually, but ‘Commander’ is accepted verbal shorthand,” Steve assured him.

  “I see. Anyway, your recovery of the knife is a service of such extraordinary magnitude that despite the reward, we couldn’t possibly put a real value on it in monetary terms. To rescue so many of our members as well, and devote most of the reward to educating the children of those who died on Eskishi, was overwhelming. Captain Chun emphasized that when he addressed the Council. I mentioned to you when we first met that he was the son of a senior official. I can now tell you that his father is the Second Deputy Dragon, the third most senior leader of the Dragon Tong as a whole behind the Mountain Master and First Deputy Dragon. If all goes well, he’ll become First Deputy Dragon himself in due course, and then Mountain Master in the fullness of time.”

  Steve blinked in surprise. “That’s… that’s very senior indeed. I’m surprised he let his son put himself into a situation of such potential danger.”

  Jiang shrugged. “We accept such risks in order to test the children of our leaders, rather than allow them to take advantage of their parents’ positions without being personally worthy of advancement. Captain Chun passed his test, and proved his fitness and ability to lead under the most trying circumstances. His name’s already been put forward as a candidate for membership of the Council next year, and I think he’ll probably be elected.

  “The Council debated for some time how they could reward you for so many services of such importance, and particularly how they could respond to your request for information to help your personal crusade against piracy. They’re adamant that the Tong cannot under any circumstances help an organization like the Lancastrian Commonwealth Fleet, or any law enforcement body. That would be unthinkable. However, to help someone like you, a proven friend and ally of the Tong, is entirely permissible in your personal capacity. Therefore, the Council has made a momentous decision. For only the fourth time in our history, they’ve issued one of these.”

  Jiang took a black jewelers box from his pocket, laid it on the table, and opened it. Inside was a green jade disk, similar in size to the white and black jade disks Steve had received from the Tong many years before. A flying dragon was inlaid in gold into the upturned face of the disk. Turning it over, Jiang revealed a Chinese character inlaid in gold into the reverse face, with the numeral ‘4’ beneath it.

  “The character means ‘friend’,” he informed them. “A green jade disk like this is issued only with the sanction of the Mountain Master and Council of the Tong. It’s happened only three times before, most recently over a century ago. To be given this means you’ve placed the Tong under so great an obligation that we are forever indebted to you. Anything you need that we can provide is yours – funds, information, any and all assistance in our power, without limit. You don’t even have to present this to receive it. We have your picture, fingerprints and DNA from Eskishi.” He saw Steve’s start of surprise. “Yes, Commander, we routinely gather such information about all potential enemies – and at first, on Eskishi, none of our spacers were sure about you, despite my assurances, although of course they are now. At any rate, we’ve circulated identifying information about you to every one of our branches and all of our ships. Anywhere in the settled galaxy that you find us, our officers and local leaders will know about you. As soon as they’ve verified your identity they’ll assist you in any and every way they can. You have only to use the passphrase ‘green jade, gold dragon’. They’ll know what that means.”

  Steve let out his breath slowly. “That’s extremely generous of the Tong, Mr. Jiang. Please convey my grateful thanks to the Mountain Master and Council.”

  “I shall. We’ll also provide information about piracy, provided we can do so directly to you and not to the Fleet. We understand you may pass it on to others for action, but that’s your affair, provided you don’t reveal from where it came. I’m here to set up a conduit to get that information to you from time to time. Will it be acceptable to do so through your wife if you aren’t available?”

  “Darling?” Steve asked her.

  “Of course. I’ll be glad to help, Mr. Jiang.”

  “Thank you.” He half-bowed to her. “That will make things much easier.” He looked up as a waiter opened the door. “Before we discuss it any further, may I suggest we order our meal? Neither of you will ever receive another bill here, by the way. Anytime you wish to dine at the Royal Golden Dragon restaurant, you are the honored guests of the Tong.”

  ~ ~ ~

  They put the car on autopilot for the journey home so they could talk more freely. As it passed swiftly and silently through the outskirts of Lancaster City, rocking gently through the curves in the high-speed toll lane, Abha leaned against Steve. “It’s almost scary to think you have so much influence, so much power, right at your fingertips, anytime you want it,” she said softly and reflectively. “You realize you could probably have someone killed by just snapping your fingers? I’m sure the Tong would do it for you without a second thought.”

  “I’m sure they would. Scary’s a good word for it. I’m going to take very good care not to use my influence too often. I could do an awful lot of damage without meaning to.”

  “Yes.” She suddenly giggled. “You could do an awful lot of damage to your waistline, too, if you take up Jiang’s offer
of free meals at that restaurant. If we ate there every day like we did tonight, we’d bulge!”

  He laughed. “Yes, it’d soon look like both of us were permanently pregnant. We won’t abuse their hospitality. By the way, darling, if you go there while I’m away, please pay for any friends who may go with you. I don’t want the Tong to think we’re taking advantage of them.”

  “Of course I will! I’ll tip well, too, as you did tonight. We want to stay on the best of terms with them.”

  “Yes.” He rubbed his hands together. “Once the Tong’s information starts flowing, I think we can really put a hurt on piracy in and around the Commonwealth. We won’t be able to do much about star systems where the Fleet doesn’t operate, of course – there are scores of them for every Commonwealth planet – but if our space-based commerce benefits even a little, I think BuIntel will be very pleased.”

  “Good. If you make yourself and your information indispensable, you may get Commodore Wu’s job yourself one of these days.”

  “That would be nice. By then you’ll be a qualified pediatrician with your own practice, and we’ll have a dozen kids.”

  “A dozen? Do you have plans you haven’t told me about yet?”

  “I’ll tell you more about them when we get home.”

  “Hmm…” She snuggled closer. “Tell me more now.”

  He kissed her. “I’d rather demonstrate, and it’s a bit too cramped in here to do that comfortably.”

  “Mmm… yes… Come on, autopilot. Hurry up!”

  About The Author

  Peter Grant was born and raised in Cape Town, South Africa. Between military service, the IT industry and humanitarian involvement, he traveled throughout sub-Saharan Africa before being ordained as a pastor. He later immigrated to the USA, where he worked as a pastor and prison chaplain until an injury forced his retirement. He is now a full-time writer, and married to a pilot from Alaska. They currently live in Tennessee.