by Peter Grant
PATOS
Agim worked late into the night, reading electronic documents on his terminal display and ruffling through old-fashioned paperwork – still the preferred method of communication when interception might spell disaster. Paper could be burned. Electronic data could not.
At last, with midnight fast approaching, he leaned back in his chair, stretching and yawning. He rose, went to the balcony door, and stepped out into the fresh night air, looking out over the city.
So… he thought. Pali has bought four fast freighters. Two are already at our base, the others are on their way. Ylli has found us missiles, and fire control systems for them. We don’t have a shipyard there, but our repair ship can install everything. It’s already prepared the first two to install their missiles. We can have them all operational within a year to eighteen months, if everything goes well. Meanwhile, Cela is arranging our new warships. By the time our first two armed merchant cruisers are ready, the first pair of destroyers should be on the building ways. In three to four years, we shall have a fleet to be reckoned with, rivaling those of all except larger planets.
He suppressed an upwelling of anger and frustration as he thought of the Patriarch. It was so unfair! He had set them on fire with his vision of the Fatherland, and they had followed him… and then he had vanished, his vision yet unfulfilled, while trying to punish their enemy for interfering. They would have justice for him, as soon as the armed merchant cruisers were ready, and doubly so when the destroyer squadron was operational.
Eufala, or Hawkwood, or whatever you are calling yourselves now – we are coming! We shall avenge our Patriarch in your blood!
2
Expansion
CONSTANTA
Dr. Elizabeth Masters looked radiant in her white dress as she emerged from the registry office. Beside her, Captain Dave Cousins, wearing the full, formal uniform of his rank, tried to look suitably dignified, but his efforts were marred by the proud grin that insisted on flitting across his features, every time he forgot about controlling them.
Cochrane shook Elizabeth’s hand, then the groom’s. “Congratulations to both of you. Why you waited three years to tie the knot, I have no idea. The rest of us knew this was coming within a couple of weeks of the two of you signing on.”
“Thank you, Commodore,” Dave replied, smiling. “The waiting wasn’t our idea. It’s just that you had us jumping around so much, we never had time to figure out where we want to live, or house-hunt, or any of the other things that go into a marriage. It’s only in the past six months that we’ve managed to get that right.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Thanks for giving us enough time off to do that, sir.”
“It was a pleasure. I’m looking forward to you setting up our base hospital facilities when you get back.”
“So am I, sir – but today’s not about medicine.” Her eyes twinkled. “When will we hear wedding bells for you and Captain Lu?”
Beside him, Hui shook her head. “Give us time. We’ve got a lot to sort out before we can make plans like that.”
Cochrane said firmly, “Forget about us. You two go off and enjoy yourselves on honeymoon!”
As soon as they got back to the Headquarters building, Cochrane sent for Commander Frank Haldane. The Commander had joined the company the previous year, after falling foul of the same offshoot of the Albanian Mafia that had seemingly declared war on Hawkwood.
Like him, Haldane was still wearing the first-class uniform that he’d put on for the wedding. He grinned as he entered Cochrane’s office suite. “Looks like we’re both dressed up for a formal Mess dinner, sir.”
His boss laughed. “It’s been several years since I attended one of those. We didn’t carry over that military custom when we formed a private space security company. Still, they had their moments – particularly after the meal, when senior officers and their guests had left, and the rest of us could get down to the serious business of having fun.”
Haldane’s eyes sparkled. “I could tell you a few stories too, sir, but I suppose that’s not why you sent for me.”
“No, it isn’t. Help yourself to a drink, if you like. I shall. The sun’s got to be over the yardarm somewhere in the galaxy by now!”
They each poured themselves glasses of their favorite tipple, then sat down in the corner armchairs. Cochrane began, “I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what happened last year in Mycenae, when the Brotherhood attacked us. We were very lucky indeed to survive that.”
“Yes, sir. If you hadn’t installed that surveillance satellite constellation, you wouldn’t have spotted them until they were right on top of you; and if you hadn’t had one modern warship in service by then, allowing you to ambush them, you would have been massacred.”
“You’re right. A lot of the breaks went our way, but they could easily enough have gone in the enemy’s favor. We’re ramping up our fleet as fast as we can, given limitations of time, money and construction, but I’m sure the Brotherhood’s doing the same thing. They’re in this too deep now to back out, particularly after we destroyed two of their warships. They’re bound to hit back at us. It’s a matter of pride, and the Albanian Mafia’s never been short of that. Besides, if they don’t hit back, they’ll appear weak, and that’ll encourage their other enemies. They can’t afford that.
“I’ve started a complete reassessment of where we are, in terms of facing that threat as well as catering for future expansion. Two more planets have already approached us about providing security for their systems. I hope they’ll be the first of many. I’m going to concentrate on heavier firepower, something that can handle a major attack if it comes. I want you to look at our overall fleet size and composition apart from that. How many ships are we likely to need to patrol a typical star system? What types of ships, and what numbers of each? What about sustaining the effort, allowing for resupply, routine maintenance, crew changes, and so on? I’d like you to put your mind to those issues, and come up with a proposed fleet size and composition for Hawkwood Security.”
“Can do, sir. What’s the deadline?”
“Let’s get together with Dave Cousins when he returns from honeymoon. As my second-in-command, he’ll need to be part of our planning. I’ll also bring Hui into it. As a Captain in Qianjin’s Fleet, she can bring her professional experience to bear on the problem. If the four of us agree, I think we can accept that the plan will work. Can you be ready in, say, two weeks?”
“I can, sir.”
“Good. Let’s pencil that in on the calendar, and then get started. There’s a lot to do.”
The following day, Cochrane called in Caitlin Ross, his intelligence specialist. She’d served as a Lieutenant-Commander in the New Orkney Cluster, and done sterling work in that field. He’d tapped her to do the same thing for Hawkwood Corporation.
“I asked you to find out everything you could about the Albanians,” he began. “How much progress have you made?”
She frowned. “Enough to tell me I won’t make enough progress here, sir. There just isn’t that much information about Albanian Mafia activities on planets like Constanta, where they’ve never operated. I’m going to have to find good sources, then go to them to learn what you need.”
“I figured as much. Do you have any in mind?”
“I thought of the Interplanetary Police Union on Neue Helvetica, but they’re specifically a law enforcement information clearing house. They won’t share their files with non-approved outsiders, and besides, they probably won’t have much about the Albanians from the inside. I need to find a source that’s already butted heads with the Albanians, and can tell us what it was like on the receiving end. We can compare that with our own limited contact with them, and see what else might come up. Also, they might know more sources to approach. I think it’s going to be a long-term project, sir, and a big one.”
“I’m afraid you’re probably right. I have one source to suggest as your starting point. Hui is an Intelligence officer with the Qianjin Fleet.
She can introduce you to their people, who almost certainly know a lot more about the Albanians than we do.” He forbore to mention that since the Dragon Tong, one of the most feared criminal organizations in the settled galaxy, was headquartered on Qianjin, its Fleet database would surely incorporate everything the Tong could contribute to the planet’s security. It was likely to know as much, if not more, about organized crime as any police or security organization.
“I’ll ask her to write you a letter of introduction,” he continued. “I’ll also talk to a couple of my contacts, who have knowledge of Qianjin’s… shall we say, less official resources. I think you may be able to learn enough there to figure out where to go next, and what to do there.”
Caitlin smiled eagerly. “Thank you, sir. There’s just one problem. I’ll have to be away for a long time, certainly months, perhaps as much as a year or more. I’ll be able to report back from time to time, but I’ll be gone so long I don’t think I’ll be able to handle your other intelligence needs.”
“I agree. You’ll have to delegate that job to two or three of your subordinates. Pick ones you trust. I’ll make a courier ship available to you. I’ll also fund you generously, using interplanetary bearer bank drafts, cash in hard currencies, and gold. You don’t know what your expenses will be or who you might have to bribe.”
“Thank you, sir.” Her eyes twinkled. “If I get the chance to go shopping…”
He laughed. “I’ll trust you not to spend it all on fripperies!”
Caitlin had been gone for almost a week by the time Dave Cousins returned from honeymoon. As soon as he was back at work, Cochrane summoned him to join Hui, Frank and himself in his spacious corner office. It was labeled, not with his military-style rank, but as Managing Director of Hawkwood Corporation, the space security company he’d founded – at first under another name – three years before.
He began, “A year ago, Frank and I began planning the doctrine and tactics we’ll use with our frigates. More recently, I asked him to look into our fleet mix, in the light of both last year’s attack and the possible expansion of our operations. He’ll address that with us, after which I’m going to talk about adding some heavier firepower. Over to you, Frank.”
“Thank you, sir.” Commander Haldane looked around as he spoke. “I’ve looked at Hawkwood’s situation three different ways. The first is what we’ve learned about security operations at Mycenae. The second is possible future customers. We’re talking to two right now. The third is our fight with the Albanians, which we didn’t ask for, but which is going to be a headache for the foreseeable future.
“At Mycenae, we saw that our old patrol craft simply couldn’t cut it against even outdated opponents. We were damned lucky to lose only one to those destroyers’ missiles. We learned that we need modern, up-to-date sensors and weapons to face any serious threat. There are no short-cuts.
“Both of the planets talking to us at present are facing multiple problems. They’re dealing with smugglers, occasional piracy of ships heading to and from orbit, and illegal asteroid mining. Their problems might have been addressed more simply and cheaply a few years ago, but they let things get out of hand. Now, they need high-end solutions. We can offer that, but only if they’re willing to pay high-end prices. A lot of planets can’t afford them – but low-cost solutions won’t actually be solutions. They’ll be panaceas, like bandaging a wound without treating the infection inside it. We have to offer enough ships, with enough power and performance, to deal with all those problems.
“Finally, there’s the Albanians. We think they have at least a couple more destroyers, bought as scrap from Anshun a decade ago and refurbished. They may have smaller armed ships, too. They’re sure to try to replace the ships they lost at the Battle of Mycenae last year, and probably add more, either by converting fast freighters into armed merchant cruisers – which is their easiest short-term option – or getting their hands on actual modern warships. Whatever they do, they’ll pose an increasing threat. The Commodore will address that in a moment.
“Putting all those factors together helps to define the size of the fleet we’ll need. The absolute, rock-bottom minimum to patrol any star system at a basic level, and deal with low-level threats, is four corvettes. There’ll also have to be a depot ship, to provide base facilities. One corvette at a time will be at the depot ship for crew rest, routine maintenance, and resupply. The other three will be patrolling the system. They’ve got the speed and endurance to cover the distances involved, and the firepower to take care of the average pirate or smuggler. However, four of them won’t be enough to cover the whole system, all the time. We’ll have to help them by using a system surveillance satellite constellation. That can pinpoint traffic anywhere within three to four light-hours of its position, allowing us to send our ships to intercept it if necessary. It’s expensive, but it’ll be essential. Without it, we’d need two to four more corvettes, which would be even more expensive.
“The detachment will need support ships. Rapid communication is a must, to call for reinforcements if things get bad, or send for urgently needed spare parts, or whatever. That means a high-speed courier vessel always on standby, in case of an emergency. Another will carry routine communications to and from Headquarters. In other words, we’ll need two communications ships, alternating those tasks every month. We also need a fast freighter to resupply the detachment every month, assuming we can’t buy all the supplies we need locally, and shuttle relief crews, spares and other necessities to and fro.
“We’ve just defined our minimum level of commitment: four corvettes, one depot ship, one fast freighter, two high-speed courier ships, and a system surveillance satellite constellation. Eight vessels, with five to six hundred officers and spacers. That’s our smallest practical deployment. Given their capital and operating expenses, we’ll need a fee of at least a billion Neue Helvetica francs per month to cover their costs, plus give us a reasonable after-tax return on our investment.”
Hui winced. “That’s a huge expense for anything but a wealthy planet – and wealthy planets will have their own System Patrol Services, well-equipped enough that they won’t need Hawkwood.”
“You’re right, ma’am. That’s where asteroids come in. A couple of years ago, Captain Cousins suggested we could accept a minimal monthly fee, plus the right to prospect for an agreed number of asteroids in that system. We can use the prospector bots we confiscated from the Albanians and the Callanish consortium in Mycenae, and buy more if we need them. If we find a few dozen high-grade asteroids, rich in precious metals or rare earth minerals, we’ll get more money than if we charged a full fee, and the client wouldn’t have to pay much in cash at all.”
Cochrane nodded. “We’ll have to have an ironclad contract, specifying how many asteroids we can harvest, of what minimum value, and get agreement from anyone who already has exclusive rights to exploit the asteroid belt. If we can get all those elements in place, I think we’ll do well. Both prospective clients are discussing them with us right now.”
“How much do you think you might get for your asteroids?” Hui asked.
Frank grinned. “We’ve just collected the harvest from a deserted star system that nobody wants, because survey ships said it didn’t have enough resources to be worth colonizing or exploiting. We turned our bots loose in its asteroid belt about fifteen months ago. I took HCS Orca to collect them last month, along with twenty-seven asteroids they’d beaconed for recovery. Even though they aren’t as good as many of the asteroids we got from Mycenae, the refinery ship at Barjah reckons we’ll get five to six billion Neue Helvetica francs as our half-share after processing.”
“Six billion? From a system the surveyors said wasn’t worth exploiting?”
“Yes, ma’am. We think there are probably more like that; and in a system with richer resources, like most of those with settled planets, we expect to do a lot better. That makes our fee requirement much more achievable.”
“It does! You’ll n
eed working capital reserves, to tide you over until the asteroids can be refined; but given the proceeds from those you’ve already harvested, that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“That’s the way I see it,” Cochrane agreed. “What’s more, our share is only half the asteroids’ value. The refinery ship gets the other half. If, in due course, we buy our own refinery ship, we can keep all the proceeds. I don’t want to do that now, though. At present, we need to focus all our efforts on expanding our security operations and dealing with whatever the Albanians have up their sleeves. A refinery ship can be tabled for future consideration. Carry on, Frank.”
“Yes, sir. Moving on from that basic level, if a system has a lot of serious problems and needs more than minimal patrolling, we’ll need to send more ships. Mycenae, for example, because it’s a very large binary star system, needs at least six corvettes to cover it even sparsely, plus the four old patrol craft operated there by the New Orkney Enterprise. If they weren’t there, we’d need eight corvettes. What’s more, corvettes are fine for patrolling and dealing with minor opponents like pirates and smugglers, but they’re outclassed against more heavily armed enemies like those we faced last year.” His audience nodded grimly.
“To deal with opponents like that, we’ll need our forthcoming super-frigates, with their big cruiser-size missiles. However, their capital and operating costs are more than twice as high as a corvette’s. For big systems with serious security issues, we might need six to eight corvettes, two frigates, and two depot ships, plus two communications vessels, a freighter, and the surveillance satellite constellation. All that gets very expensive, very fast. We’ll need to charge well over two billion francs per month for a deployment like that – or they’ll have to give us a lot more asteroids.”
