Breach of Peace

by Daniel Gibbs

  "They taught you history while you were undercover?"

  "A sanitized version," Miri said. "I learned the more unofficial version as part of my mission."

  "And after you were pulled out? Still an atheist?"

  "No. I believe in HaShem." Miri shook her head. "I don't think I'm worthy of being one of his children anymore. The things I did in his name, in the name of the Coalition, they were…" She swallowed. "There's innocent blood on my hands and my soul, Captain Henry. How else should I feel?"

  Henry shook his head. "I don't know. I—" He stopped. "I can't talk about it."

  "It’s painful, isn't it?"

  "It is. But not the only reason I can't talk about it."

  He could see Miri considering his wording before understanding came. "Then I won't pry. A gesture, from one wounded soul to another."

  "Thank you.” There was nothing else he thought it right to say.

  Despite Linh's efforts, there was no load going to Lusitania, so it was with empty holds that the Shadow Wolf pulled away from Trinidad Station. Cera did the piloting, as usual, with Henry, Tia, and Yanik at their stations on the bridge.

  Standing with them, at her own request, Samina Khan watched her home for these past few years gradually pull away on the liquid crystal display. She wore a gray engineer's jumpsuit with "Shadow Wolf" on the back in black lettering. The jumpsuit was a size too big for her and quite baggy.

  But she paid it no mind. Her heartbeat with excitement and fear and anxiety and worry and happiness. She couldn't decide how she should feel about leaving Uncle Ali behind. About being on her own without her family for the first time in her life. She wanted to cheer at the freedom and cry at the feeling of loss. Tears formed in her eyes from the tension.

  Henry's hand came up and touched her shoulder. "I've been there," he said. "I felt the same way when the shuttle taking me to Halsey Station left Tylerville."

  "I don't know how to feel," Samina stammered. "I—"

  "I didn't either."

  "It shows you are on your path, laid out by divine will," Yanik said in his usual low voice. "Divine will is always frightening and gratifying."

  "Inshallah," she breathed with a little uncertainty.

  Yanik nodded. Samina was surprised he understood. Then her thoughts looped back to the feelings inside. She said nothing more as Trinidad Station slowly shrank on the viewer until it was a speck.

  "You've got your first in-flight engine room watch in six hours," Tia reminded her. "You should see about rack time."

  "Yeah. Rack time." Samina felt goosebumps at that prospect. A watch in the engine room by herself, on a ship in flight? That was a lot of responsibility. Even if Brigitte was also going to be around to help, she felt her stomach twist with nervousness at the thought. Her legs went a little rubbery as she turned to the exit door. "I'll be there, Miss Nguyen," Samina promised.

  She left the bridge. Walking down the corridor to her quarters, her feelings continued to shift until one stood out amongst them: determination. She had to do this right. For Uncle Ali, for Chief Khánh, and her new crew. She had to be the best Engineer's Mate she could be.

  "Allah help me," she muttered under her breath.

  The Kensington Star loomed ahead through the shuttle cockpit viewer. Hartford looked it over with quiet satisfaction. While it retained the boxy shape he'd seen on its capture, the week since its arrival at Pluto Base had wrought the desired changes to the ship. Particle cannons were bolted and fitted onto that boxy shape now, giving it a definite warlike cast. A battery of captured Coalition neutron cannons were arrayed below the chin of the ship.

  Above the ship's bow, the emitter array for their new weapon was still being assembled, but it was nearly ready.

  Altogether, the refitted Kensington Star had the firepower to harm cruisers and the deflectors to resist them, although its hull was still a weak point. Armored plates had been rigged over vital areas, but once the ship's deflectors were down, it would have difficulty surviving.

  Not that battle was its primary purpose, although if everything went according to plan, it'd be seeing combat eventually.

  An eager young officer—a Commander—greeted Hartford and Aristide upon their landing on the ship's shuttle bay. "Commander Ivan Neworth, sir," he said in a chipper North American accent. "We've nearly completed the refit, sir. There's a few final pieces to install on the disabler array. When we're done, she's ready for action."

  "Well done, Commander," Hartford said. "You and your crews have fulfilled their duty well."

  "Thank you, sir. All did their part for Society. We had not a single incident of individual failing."

  "I’ll see to it your crew will be commended."

  With the exchange done, Hartford was led on a tour of the ship. For all the work done outside, internally, it was little changed—only where necessary. The crew went about their business with the kind of social spirit he approved of in personnel. Each was handpicked from the best in the League of Sol fleet. Most were veterans of the war with the Coalition and eager to strike the decisive blow to break the zealots.

  They were partway through the inspection when Aristide stopped following. She held a hand to her ear, telling Hartford she was getting a report from Pluto Base. "Very well," she said aloud. "I will inform him at once."

  By the time she turned her attention entirely to Hartford and Commander Neworth, Hartford was already asking, "Inform me of what?"

  "An informant on Trinidad Station transmitted a report to our man on New Kerala," she said. "The Shadow Wolf has departed for Lusitania."

  "Is the fleet ready?"

  She nodded. "It is dispersed along the route, and we have probes spread around several systems. Additionally, League vessels in the area, as well as those we have contacts with, are all on the lookout, should they take a circuitous route."

  "And if they go by interstellar space?"

  Aristide smiled. Hartford wasn't sure he liked the look of it. "Given their behavior, I considered that possibility. Captain Zervakos and his squadron have dispersed themselves at central points with a probe net employed. It is quite a use of resources, sir, but I believe we can catch them."

  Hartford narrowed his eyes slightly. Aristide's wording wasn't lost on him. She saw this as a waste of resources. She didn't see the danger that Miri Gaon would pose their operation, not as he did. She was thinking of things in the way one of the bloodless Social Resource Distribution Bureau officials would back on Earth, not realizing the effect on morale someone like Gaon could have if she gave her testimony to the right people. "It will be worth it," he quietly assured her. "And it will even give us another benefit."

  "Oh?"

  "Another ship, already conveniently armed for our purposes," Hartford pointed out. And with that point made, he nodded to Neworth, prompting the younger officer to continue their tour.

  Pavel found Piotr as he was leaving the ship's chapel on the Morozova's habitation deck, where Father Dmitri was currently hearing confession. "Piotr, I've found them!"

  "Where?" Piotr demanded, his full attention directed to his brother.

  "They put in several days ago to Trinidad Station. Battle damage from an attack by the Tash'vakal."

  "Devil's Lizards," Piotr grumbled. They were another scourge of the spaceways, vicious reptilians who ate other species and even each other. "Are they still there?"

  "They were scheduled to depart today," answered Pavel. "No destination filed, but during their time on the station, they received several calls from Lusitania."

  "Their cargo to Harron came from Lusitania," Piotr recalled. "Perhaps their employer is there."

  "The League External Security Office maintains a major agent in Gamavilla," Pavel said. "Chantavit Li."

  "Li," Piotr spat. "He would be the kind of man to arrange this slander." He gave his brother a fierce look. "They must be returning her to him. We must catch them!"

  "I've given Semyon course information. It will be close brother, but with G
od's help, perhaps we can catch them before their last jump."

  "God stands with those seeking justice," Piotr assured him. "Make sure the word is spread. We must be ready for action when the time comes!"

  32

  Another bright day came for the people of Gamavilla. It was the kind of day anyone would want to remember; clear sunny skies, pleasantly warm. Children of the capital's barrios loved conditions such as this for the purpose of playing outside, while lovers embraced in the parks.

  After finishing her morning routines, Cristina Caetano stood out on the balcony of her third-floor apartment home. While other ministers might dwell in beautiful homes bought in the city limits, she contented herself with a secured apartment rented in the government district. From three stories up, she could make out the best buildings in the heart of the city, including the Parliament Building and the Presidential Mansion. With a turn of the head, the grand baroque architecture of the National University was visible. Turning her head the other way showed the Gamavilla Museum of History and Art and the magnificent spire of St. Michael's Cathedral, while a little further in the distance, the al-Tawriq Mosque's minarets spoke of architecture that would have won the approval of the Almohads.

  The view was special. It was why she'd insisted upon this apartment. It reminded her of the proud past of Lusitania, the collective effort of the Portuguese, Moroccan, Basque, and Galician peoples who left behind the lands and bones of their forebearers to save the memory and spirit of their nations.

  Today, they would be ratifying a new treaty with the people who chased their ancestors off Earth. It was a sort of cosmic joke. Members of her party were ambivalent about the whole thing, but the other lead government parties, the Nationalist-Republicans, and National Liberals, were quite insistent on it. As she could not yet act on Karla Lupa's statements about the League being responsible for the ship disappearances, she and the PdDN would go along with it. It was a necessary evil to keep their governing coalition intact.

  There was noise behind Caetano, the dull thud of something hitting the ground. She turned to find that the housemaid hired by the owner of the building had accidentally knocked a table lamp off her dresser. The young woman, with bronze coloration a shade darker than Caetano's and a pretty round face, was already stooping to pick it up under the stern gaze of Caetano's armed bodyguards. Nervousness was apparent in her light brown eyes as she set the lamp back carefully, handling it with even more care than the auto-firing pulse guns being quietly leveled her way by Caetano's ever-watchful bodyguards. "Sorry, Minister," she said softly. Her Portuguese had a Galician accent.

  "Beatriz, isn't it?" Caetano asked.

  "Yes, ma'am." Beatriz glanced around quickly. The bodyguards were not lowering their guard, but their weapons were starting to dip a little. "I'm very sorry."

  Caetano could see the young woman was upset, and not just at her mistake. "You are usually quite careful," Caetano observed. "Is something the matter?"

  Beatriz sucked in a breath. For a moment, she seemed to reluctant to do anything and her body shook. Caetano could see when the tension in Beatriz eased; she'd made her decision. "My brother Julio," she said. "He's… he's a member of the League for Democratic Unity. He's protesting today."

  "Ah. You worry for his safety." Caetano found the admission interesting. "Do you share his political beliefs?"

  "I do not follow politics. I am too busy pursuing my degree in metallurgy at the National University," Beatriz admitted. Caetano found that fact intriguing. She didn't know her maid was a university student. "I...I know you hate them, but he's a good man. He's not a traitor. He wants our people to have more freedoms."

  Caetano's face betrayed a hint of sadness. "I know what it is like to have someone you love, to have family who risk themselves for their convictions," she said quietly to the younger woman. "Rest assured, Beatriz, that unless the situation requires it, I will not raise a hand against Julio or those with his convictions."

  Beatriz’s eyebrows shot up. "You… you won't?"

  "No. I believe he and his people are wrong," Caetano began. "That our nation requires us to set our freedoms aside to protect the nation, the entire planet, from the war. And I can tell you some use his party as a cover to promote foreign interests that would not match ours. But I do not hate them all. I consider them misguided. And so long as the State is not threatened by their actions, I will not have them harmed."

  "But, your party…"

  Caetano laughed. "My party is not a hive mind, with me as the queen bee. Some of my people allow their patriotism to get the better of them. I rein them in when possible. But it is not always possible. Today, I suspect they will counter-protest as they always do, and my police are ready to intercede to protect the lives of Lusitanian citizens."

  Beatriz nodded at that. She was still clearly surprised. "Thank you, Minister," she finally managed.

  "You are quite welcome, Beatriz. I hope I have set your mind at ease. My room could use a little extra dusting today." Caetano grinned at her. "I wish you the best in your studies on metallurgy."

  That resulted in another round of thanks before Caetano departed the room, her bodyguards following. As they exited the apartment proper, one said, "That was nice of you, Minister. A shame her brother's a traitor."

  "The tricky thing about treason is that sometimes the traitor does not know he is one until it is too late," she replied. "We are due at Parliament, gentlemen. Lead on."

  Given the wealth accumulated from his time in public service and private industry, Vitorino had the wealth to live in greater splendor than Caetano's modest apartment in the government district. His home was in the upper crust Lake Verde District, a two-level mansion of average size bought at a discount from the prior owner, an import/export company owner expressing gratitude for Vitorino's assistance. His bedroom, the master bedroom, was on the second floor, a finely carpeted and furnished chamber that by itself was the size of a barrio apartment for a family of four. The balcony there provided a view of the Parliament Building and other sites from a removed distance; visible, but part of the general surroundings.

  Vitorino considered that view while eating a morning breakfast cooked by his professional kitchen staff. After seeing to some last-minute correspondence and dressing in his best suit, he was met by Raoul for the ride to the Parliament Building. "No surprises?" he asked.

  "None," Raoul promised.

  "Good, good." Vitorino grinned and sat back.

  On their way to the Parliament Building, Vitorino noted the city seemed tense. There were political gatherings ready to become protests and counter-protests scattered around the city. The Gamavilla police force was out to deal with it, aided by the RSS and the National Police. Anyone foolish enough to start a violent demonstration would find themselves in the city's jails in short order.

  They arrived and came in through the Cabinet's special entrance. Security was less intrusive if still quite thorough, given the intensity of the scans they were subject to in order to ensure they were clear of anything from planted bombs to listening devices. Once they were inside, Vitorino headed straight for the Assembly Chamber.

  The room was a modern take on the parliamentary assembly rooms seen in many countries. The six hundred and twenty members of the Assembly itself was seated in a half-circle of multiple tiers in the southern half of the chamber, with galleries raised above their seats for visitors. The pit was for whoever took the floor to address the Speaker of the Assembly, who enjoyed the highest position on the north side of the room. The President of Lusitania, if in attendance, sat beside the Speaker, bound by Lusitanian law and custom to not speak unless requested to by the Assembly. But Vargas was not here today. The Prime Minister likewise had a seat beside the Speaker, but typically only spoke when asked or permitted by the Assembly.

  Below the Speaker's podium and above the pit, a line of desks and attendant chairs was set for the attending members of the Cabinet. Vitorino found his seat near the middle. By circumstance,
this put him beside Caetano, with Minister al-Idrisi beside her. On Vitorino's other side was the Finance Minister, a fellow National-Republican named Rosalía Ferreiro.

  With most of the seats filled, the Speaker of the Assembly took his podium, signaling to all the session was due to begin. Saturnino Acosta was the oldest leading member of the Nationalist-Republicans and a former Prime Minister himself. With the rest of the Cabinet, Vitorino swiveled in his chair and looked up at the older man as he called the session to order.

  This was not easy. There was real malice in the Assembly, even over something as relatively minor as a trade agreement. The democratic parties saw the League as an unconscionable threat to the dignity and freedom of humanity, and the Socialists—the second largest party in the Assembly—despised them as a twisted and totalitarian corruption of their ideology. The government parties, on the other hand, were much like Vitorino in their thinking; Lusitania's economy was enriched by foreign trade, and that meant getting as many trade partners as possible. Since the Coalition placed export controls on strategic goods and resources necessary for their war efforts, as well as on luxury and consumer goods containing technology with potential military applications, the League was a source for the same that couldn't be ignored.

  With effort, Acosta took control of the session. At his bidding, the clerk confirmed the attendance roll and read the treaty. It was not the stuff of drama, especially since Vitorino felt that the Basque clerk's Portuguese accent was atrocious.

  Once the reading was over, the first representative to get the Speaker's attention called for Vitorino, as Trade Minister, to answer questions. This request was affirmed by a vote, and Vitorino, with grace, stood from his seat, leaving Raoul behind to keep everything in order while he rounded the Cabinet desk and descended into the pit of the chamber. He stood at a podium facing the assembly and with a confident grin, invited the questions.