Breach of Peace

by Daniel Gibbs

  29

  "...say again, Morozova, do not approach, or we will assume hostile intent…"

  Piotr listened to the hail from the Captain of the Astra Mater, a man named Cooper, and forced the best English he could manage as he said, "We are not hostile, Astra Mater. We only wish to know condition of spacer woman you come for."

  "I am under strict orders not to share anything regarding the case," Cooper replied. "Not until the search for Ms. Lupa has been concluded."

  "Search?" That English word was one Piotr, and his brother were both well aware of. "She was left with Spacer's Union by our friend! Our friend who has been murdered! Now you tell me you search for her?!"

  The line was audio-only, so the brothers couldn't see the other man, but they could hear the exasperated sound that came before he resumed speaking. "I'm not sharing anything else. But you can consider this formal confirmation that P&Y is terminating our agreement with you and your people. If you approach any closer, we will assume hostile intent and request assistance from Harr'al authorities."

  Piotr felt a desire to scream in rage at the man for being so unhelpful. Pain gnawed at him still over Vasily, and his feeling that he'd caused Vasily's death was growing deeper with this new information.

  Pavel saw his brother's mood and took over. "We understand you, Astra Mater. We intend no hostility and are withdrawing. God go with you." With that, he nodded to Semyon.

  Semyon Timofovich Kuybyshev lowered his red-bearded face to focus on enacting Pavel's order, cutting the communication line. Of all of the Morozova crew, he was the only one to hint at the distant Viking ancestry that was distilled into the Russian people in the era of the Kievan Rus. Pavel often called him the Varangian, referencing the Varangian Guard of the old Orthodox Roman Empire and showing the younger brother's knowledge of the old Earth histories.

  "We’ve been fooled," Piotr grumbled. "The Lupa woman wasn't a victim. She works for the League."

  "You don't know that," Pavel pointed out.

  "Don't I? Vasily is dead, and she is gone. You heard them! They have cut our protection agreement. They would only do so if they believe we attacked the Kensington Star."

  "Maybe they…" Pavel shrugged. "We still need more information, brother."

  "Then get it," Piotr said. "In the meantime, put us on course for the jump zone, so we don't provoke Cooper."

  For three days, the repair work on the Shadow Wolf proceeded at an excellent pace. The addition of an Engineer's Mate had been an unexpected part of the repair work, but given the financial issues at stake, Samina Khan's admission to the crew was welcome. The material costs alone were making Henry worried about his bottom line, not to mention labor.

  Still, there was some work the experienced dockhands of Trinidad were best suited for, so Henry sighed and paid. Now he watched the result of that payment from his place on the gantry, observing as Khánh's Matrinad repair hand worked on the exterior hull with an expert touch. It seemed the best arrangement: let the dock hands do the work of fixing the hull up with the delicate process of cutting patches of the right size and composition while the crew handled the internal repairs.

  Tia walked up to him, her eyes fixed on the Matrinad as well. "It appears the hull repairs are coming along."

  "They are," he confirmed. "But we might have to go easy on the hold repairs. We can restore the structure, but the full repairs may have to wait."

  She sighed. "Until we have the money we need to finish."

  A thought came to Henry. "How's our guest doing?"

  "She behaves. Felix has been keeping an eye on her."

  "Like I asked." Henry sighed. "I'm not a damned jailer, but right now, I feel like one."

  "I hate to admit it, but you're right about keeping her around. She's safest with us at the moment." Tia shook her head and sighed again. "I'm not sure we're safer with her, though. Running for Omega or the Jalm'tar frontier sounds pretty good right now. Or, hell, the Jewel Box."

  Henry smirked. "Well, I did promise we'd go out that way if things went south here."

  "They're certainly shifted in a southerly direction, you've got to admit."

  "The damage to our hull is a good indication of that, I think," Henry remarked sarcastically, suppressing a laugh. "Another day or so, do you think? They know we're here, and it'd be nice to get out ASAP."

  "Two at the minimum," Tia replied. She leaned against the gantry as if to study the wounded ship more closely. "Pieter's still replacing the blown-out parts of our Lawrence drive from the double jump."

  Henry nodded. The next question was an obvious one. "How's Samina doing?"

  "Experienced in the right ways, but still unlearning some built-in instincts. Half the time, she forgets she's not a fetch tech anymore. Pieter thinks once she's adjusted to handling the work herself, she'll do great."

  "Good to hear. We've needed a good Engineer's Mate for a while."

  Nothing passed between them for several moments. "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to die out there," Tia finally said.

  Henry glanced toward her, wondering about why she was bringing up such a macabre subject. "Death's never pretty," he said, with the weight of his voice showing all he knew of the issue.

  "I know. I'm not…" Tia shifted her weight in the lean and shook her head before facing Henry directly. "I'm not talking about death being pretty. It's horrible, and I've seen more than enough of it. I'm just saying we all have to die. And some ways of it are better than others. From a personal point of view."

  Henry watched the distant look in her gray eyes. "Thinking of the past?"

  "Yeah. Something about this reminds me of it. How close I came to a bad end. I could've ended up being worked to death in a prison camp after being degraded and humiliated by the corps on Hestia." Tia crossed her arms as if to suppress a shiver. "Or hung publicly."

  Henry nodded. He'd seen some of it himself and understood her sentiment. "Yeah, there are good deaths and bad ones," he agreed. "I get wanting to have a good one alongside the people that matter to you. But if you ask me, the best death's the one where you're old, ready to go, and your family's together at your bedside."

  Tia smiled thinly. The smile was not a happy one, though, and he saw a tear form in her eye that told how much the thought of her family hurt. She hadn't seen them in over ten years. Even a GalNet call could put them in danger of arrest by the Hestian government. "One day, maybe I'll be able to think that could be my end," she said. "But for now, if it comes, it's coming out here."

  "And on that note…"

  "On that note, I'll finish my rounds for now. See you for a working dinner?"

  "Yeah," he said, well aware they had finances to balance. "I'll see you later."

  Pavel was waiting when the call came back from his source on New Cornwall, a government police agent whose son was rescued from Harr'al slavers by the Morozova. The report he got from the Cornish woman made him scowl. He returned to the bridge, where his brother was still waiting for him.

  On the main display was the star TR-715, a K4 star of pale orange light. Its solar system was mostly empty save for an automated helium-3 refueling station over the sixth planet in the system, which provided the Lou Shipping-built station the source for that critical element. Semyon had selected the system on Piotr's orders as a place to loiter.

  Piotr immediately turned in his chair to face Pavel. "Well?"

  "Inspector Morse has confirmed the news," he said. "The New Cornish authorities believe Lupa works for us. That we’re attempting to frame the League for the disappearances. They've already asked the other systems to intercept our ship if we're spotted, and ordered Lupa's arrest."

  Piotr snarled. "I knew it," he hissed. "That… bitch. She must have killed Vasily! Or ordered it! So she could escape without being detected!"

  "Even if she didn't order it, it's related." Pavel shook his head. "Brother, I want to find her too. This time, we’ll question her more thoroughly. Something greater is going on here, something dangerous." />
  "Agreed. This sounds like a League plot, brother. Those Christ-hating monsters are behind all of it. Now we have to find out where she is."

  "If she left Harron, she would have left through Sektatsh. It would be too much risk to try and travel to another of the enclave cities on Harron." Pavel took his seat and called up system access. "I'm going to connect to the Sektatsh Spaceport and see what ships departed recently."

  Piotr waited patiently as Pavel did his search. He examined the ships that left, and details relating to them. It took time and patient examination. But not as much time as he feared. "Ah, I think I know now," he said.

  "Do you?"

  "Vessel Shadow Wolf out of Darien. She arrived carrying cargo from Lusitania on the day Vasily is believed to have been killed, left the same day. Rented a helicar and returned it the same day."

  Piotr considered that. "That's not too strange. Who would want to stay on that world for too long? They may have had business in the city."

  "But why rent a helicar for a single day just to attend to business? Why go to the expense when public transport would work just as well? A rented helicar would work to quietly slip someone to the ship. And the record shows they were temporarily halted on departure from the suspicion of sneaking a slave aboard." Pavel could see from his facial expression Piotr considered those facts more convincing.

  "Alright. Something to possibly investigate," said Piotr. "Send to our contacts across the region. We are looking for the Shadow Wolf and wish to know her destination."

  "Yes, brother," Pavel replied.

  The working dinner amounted to Tia bringing food from one of the station's eating establishments back to the Shadow Wolf. It was Hestian cuisine, itself a fusion of various Southeast Asian and European influences with a focus on some spice in the flavoring. Henry tried it gingerly at first and noted the texturing of the meat was consistent with vat-grown samples.

  Tia's bemused reaction brought a grin to Henry's face after he finished chewing and swallowed down the bite he'd taken, a chunk of roasted vat-meat—pork?—with a mild spice glaze over it. "You used to give me the stink eye," he pointed out.

  "Well, that was back when you had that spoiled Coalition palate," she replied before taking a bite of her meal, a combination of rice and beef with vegetables in a spicy sauce. The rice was station-grown as well.

  "I suppose a decade spent out here in neutral space did a lot to expand my horizons." He chuckled. "Without expanding my waistline."

  Tia almost choked in her attempt to laugh.

  Whatever further humor they might have shared was cut off by the tone coming from Henry's desktop computer. He checked it and noted it was an incoming call over the GalNet system and originated from Lusitania. That world was already taxing his patience lately, but with a sigh, he answered. Al-Lahim appeared, looking quite frustrated. "Captain Henry, I received your message, but things here have been hectic. Is everything okay?"

  "Our guest is," Henry replied, his tone careful. "We had to put into Trinidad Station for repairs."

  "It's not common for any of the Tash'vakal tribes to behave quite like that. I suspect they were paid off."

  "Your guess is as good as mine." Henry set his hands on the table. "That's not the only reason you called, is it?"

  Al-Lahim sighed. "No, it isn't. Your passenger's situation is… complicated now."

  "In what way?" Henry noticed Tia was paying rapt attention now as well. That was typically wise when an intelligence officer talked about "complications."

  "The New Cornish authorities are still running their investigation, but our sources have them suspecting a woman named Karla Lupa of being a pirate agent working for the Tokarevs. I've investigated and found that there are similarities in appearance. I'm afraid mistaken identity might come into play."

  The phrasing was understandable. The line was not necessarily a secure one, and al-Lahim wasn't about to admit to Miri's true identity. Especially not with what he'd just revealed. Henry played along. "Well, we'll make sure to have her ID well in hand. There won't be any mistaken identity."

  "That is advisable."

  With that said, Henry decided to delve further into the matter. "So you're telling me that a witness shows up, and she's suddenly the suspect?"

  "Yes." Al-Lahim sounded almost weary at that point of agreement. "Unfortunately, New Cornwall's been particularly adamant about staying out of the war. They'd rather assume she was a pirate trying a frameup than consider whether she's telling the truth."

  "They're hardly the only planet to do so," Henry pointed out, well aware that half of his crew came from such neutral worlds. "Anyway, that's got nothing to do with us for the moment. I'll inform you when we're coming back in."

  "Don't expect an immediate answer. We're having another security threat assessment in the wake of the increasing domestic strife here on Lusitania."

  "More problems with the PdDN."

  "There've been arrests and mob attacks on the Opposition, especially the Democratic parties," al-Lahim explained. "Some of them come to us, seeking shelter."

  "Which only adds to the fuel for all of those nationalist groups accusing the democrats of being Coalition agents."

  "It does, but these are innocent people. It's not easy to turn them away."

  "It never is." Seeing Tia starting to eat again, Henry said, "I'll talk to you later. Shadow Wolf out." He let al-Lahim nod before cutting the channel.

  "Crap," Tia muttered. "It sounds like Lusitania's becoming a dangerous spot. Should we hasten repairs? If we really push, we could be out by tomorrow. Then we can get this over with and get away before Caetano starts a crackdown or whatever she's going to do."

  "No. Everyone got a scare in our escape from the Tash'vakal." Henry started gathering a bite of his cooling meal with his fork and spoon. "And if there's any trouble, we don't want everyone worn thin by repair work. We'll continue working at our established pace and leave in two days."

  Tia swallowed one of her last bites and nodded. "Sounds reasonable to me. So, that leaves the repair bill."

  Henry grimaced and nodded. "Yeah, let's get that finalized. Then we'll see how much trouble we're in financially."

  30

  Kepper arrived at the Sektatsh Spaceport with a light load. Most of his essential gear was already transferred to his ride, sparing him the need for more. All he had with him was a single suitcase of brown leather. He checked his commlink to verify the meeting place.

  The meeting place was an out of the way terminal of the spaceport near one of the employee entrances. Without a ship coming or going from the dock at the moment, Kepper and his contact had the place to themselves.

  The contact was a human man of pale complexion, grizzled in appearance. He was at least ten years older than Kepper by his estimation. Wiry, corded muscle showed on his bared lower arms. "Hey, you're Li's guy?" the man asked in a near-Cockney, British accent.

  "Yep." Kepper didn't recognize the man or know his name. Nor did he care to. "My intel?"

  "Everything you need on Trinidad Station. Contacts, schematics." The man extended a hand, the skin even paler than normal. Inside of the hand was a data disc. Kepper eyed the offered hand and disc closely. "I feel bloody sorry for your mark."

  "Huh." Kepper looked at the disc and to the contact's face and grinned widely. "I'd think you'd have better things to feel sorry for."

  "Oh?" The man chuckled. "Like what?"

  Kepper's grin took an edge. "Yourself." His hands went into motion. One slapped the side of the contact's hand away, knocking the disc clear to the floor. The other hand pulled his pulse pistol out and leveled it toward the contact's head. The contact stopped moving, his face still full of surprise. "Drop it.”

  The small particle pistol in the man's other hand dropped to the ground. Kepper brought his right foot over and kicked it out of reach.

  The League contact's confusion became one of consternation and fear. "What's all this?" he asked in a low, insistent voice.
/>   "I'll admit, you had me going," said Kepper. "Li sounded just desperate enough. But I know how the game's played. I made him look bad to his bosses. Why send me to hunt someone across space when the League's got contacts elsewhere?" He chuckled. "Honestly, he'd have been better off never talking to me again and just sending someone to blow up my rooms. He'd still have failed, but it wouldn't be nearly as insulting."

  "Mate, I dunno—"

  "You're pale, especially your hand. But that's not a natural paleness," Kepper said. "The light we're in hides it a little, so I wasn't sure until I saw your hand. But it's from something else. I'm guessing the fungicide for jeklan?" He noticed the look on the man's eyes and felt a surge of professional pride. He had this poisoner. "The fungicide is slightly toxic to human beings. It slows the heart and reduces blood flow. Makes you really pale. Terrible stuff, but it's a great preventative if you're coating something with jeklan. Stuff gives people a buzz, but it's the last one a human being would feel, am I right?"

  The contact swallowed. "It was nothing personal, mate," he said in a low tone. "Business. Boss tells me to off someone, they get the jeklan, y'know?"

  "Pays well?"

  "Pay's piss," spat the man. "My family's back on Croydon. I do the right work, External Security'll let 'em emigrate out of the League."

  Kepper nodded. Croydon was a former Coalition world that withdrew after the Saurian Wars over the costs of rebuilding Sauria. That hadn't been sufficient protection from the League, which took control of the planet in 2550 on the grounds of alleged Coalition use of the Croydon system. He gave the man a bemused look and said, "You know you're a sucker, then? The League'll never let them go."

  Defiant despair showed on the poisoner's face. "Man's gotta hope. I got nothing else."

  "Hope's overrated."

  With that statement, Kepper lifted his gun and shot the Croydoner square in the middle of the forehead. The pulse blast scorched and blackened the pale skin there on its way through the skull and into the brain, which was flash-fried in the heat of the blast. His would-be killer fell wordlessly to the ground and did not move again.