The violence did not spread to the rest of Thule Station and the TDF seems to have Valhalla under control again but are refusing to allow non-TDF vessels to approach. The exception may be the Quetzalcoatl, which could get there in less than a day but might need to refuel before returning to the Moon.
The Quetzalcoatl has been asked to hold station near the pirate ship. The frigate Ashoka and the Martian escorts have agreed to approach that ship together, to put representatives of both services on board, and to escort it back to the Moon. If that agreement holds, the Quetzalcoatl will be free to perform other duties as soon as they leave. Otherwise, their medical services might be needed urgently.
Scheduling your return has become a complicated problem. Assuming the Ashoka and Imperial ships hold true to their agreement, we must consider the needs of the injured they already have on board, the need for refuelling, the farmers who want to return to the LUVN, and the crisis at Valhalla. You are likely to be delayed by over a week, so the Imperial border security will be in place when you arrive. Nevertheless, we hope that sneaking one fugitive past the Martians will be easier than moving you all at once.
Officially, only Surgeon MacFinn knows you are aboard the Quetzalcoatl. In practice, you are not quite that alone. In addition, you are being accompanied by Wep Sailor Thor Sinbadson from the Columbia who is advising LR on the recent Martian attacks, including the attack by the pirates, and how we have countered each attack. This should help them prepare to rescue the crews of both TDF and Martian ships.
You are also being shadowed by a marine who volunteered to come with us from the Mao while it is in refit. You may remember Marine Mustafa Sa’id? For his conspicuous service and courage on the Mao, the Deng, and the Manila Bay, he has been promoted and is now Commander Sa’id. He is officially an advisor on the practical aspects of countering the token, emoji, and bug attacks, but the Cap knows he is also a bodyguard for one of his passengers. He was severely torn between guarding the rest of the team and his personal loyalty to you. His loyalty won.
We do not believe any of them know who you really are. Commander Sa’id is the best informed, but still believes you are a former agent, cross-appointed with MI and CI, who is now the head of the team known colloquially as the Banshees. He seems unaware of your earlier career.
You should not blow their cover without cause, but they are available if you need help. I have included their comm addresses below. All three of your attendants know how to contact us when you are approaching the Moon and we will work out the details of your transfer then. The situation is so fluid on the Moon right now, it is pointless to make plans even as little as a week into the future.
You have surely noticed that Surgeon MacFinn is using a different cover story to explain your injuries than we discussed. For this trip, you are Benjamin Lomond of Forensic Accounting in the Ministry for Commerce. We made the change because your original story proved to be too good. CI had already uncovered financial irregularities and a flow of drugs to the LUVN. They had assigned a junior agent to watch where they were going, who unfortunately was shot during the pirate attack and is also recovering on the Quetzalcoatl. That matches your scenario almost exactly but fills the role with someone well known to the other farmers.
The hidden documents that you discovered and passed to Raul are therefore not needed as a pretext for having an agent at LUVN but will undoubtedly be useful in the trial of Supervisor Rouseth, whom we have retained on the Columbia because of her grenade attack in the infirmary.
The CI agent and those documents give us a natural excuse for the Columbia to be nearby at the time of the pirate attack, but we still needed a plausible reason to choose to go to Valhalla since the extraction of Alexander is being portrayed as a ruse and the arrest of Colonel Dilsizian was being done at the request of Forward Command as a target of opportunity. Alexander says that violent torture was in the character of the people chosen to work in the Interrogation Centre, so we switched your cover story to place the cause of your medical troubles in or near the Centre. The rescue of an agent from arbitrary arrest and torture should justify our intervention to the satisfaction of almost anyone who penetrates the other layers of the cover.
We cannot hide the truth from the surgeons who will be treating you, of course, because they are helping put the fake scars in place. That should not cause a problem; it will not be the first time LR have been asked to pass on a cover story without comment, by injured people and their supporters on all sides of the law.
On a somewhat different issue, we are not sure what set Alexander off. He refuses to clarify and it took some persuasion to get him to install the mutable ID in your comm unit. He only agreed to do it at the last moment before you both transferred to the Hai Ba Tru’ng. Hopefully, it is now in place. Is it possible you met him at some time earlier in your career?
Take care,
Begum, Leilani, Raul, Sergei, Luciana
PS: Overheard amongst the marines:
The surgeons found that the grenade Rouseth used had been concealed in a pocket inside her left breast.
— You might call it a killer breast enhancement!
Her blood was splattered all over the prep room.
— Alas, painting the town red requires more than a bang-up entrance to a party with two stuffed suits.
There was a second grenade inside her right breast, about the size and shape of a breakfast sausage. She never armed it, being barely conscious from pain when the marines immobilized her and the surgeon put her into a coma.
— It was the kind of “sausage party” no woman wants to remember. She will be sleeping it off all the way to the Moon.
I contemplated the message, and the subtext within it. The bulk of the text was probably written by Begum and Sergei. I was sure that Sergei had contributed the grenade jokes. The tone was light and soothing, but the content and their desire to sooth me had the contrary effect. I worried that things were spiralling out of control while I was trapped and out of contact.
Toyami had probably added the warning that Commander Sa’id was guarding me out of personal loyalty. I appreciated the effort, but urgently needed to redirect him to the protection of someone whose life could be saved without imperilling himself. I would also have to warn him that someone known as “Sultan Mustafa” was currently regarded as a traitor to the Imperium, so there were some jokes about his name that would be dangerous to his life.
The political neutrality of Lunar Recovery was a very serious issue that could not be compromised. Evgenia would have been the obvious source but was not listed amongst the writers. If not her, Begum, Raul and Leilani were the ones most likely to recognize its importance. The Columbia and Quetzalcoatl were carrying people who would be of interest to the legal systems of the Moon, of the Earth, and most seriously, of Mars. I had rarely worried how LR handled the dangerous people they had rescued in the past, but they would not be able to conceal our existence given the level of scrutiny to be expected. I was going to have to be very careful leaving the Quetzalcoatl.
Personally, I could not step innocently off the Quetzalcoatl into the hands of Martian Intelligence, who would by now have improved pictures of what I looked like. This was exactly why they had to get Leilani and the others deep inside the Moon before the Martians arrived in force. Nor could I risk being smuggled off the ship. If LR was suspected of deliberately hiding the most wanted war criminal in human space, their claim of neutrality would be erased, to everyone’s sorrow.
It was subtle, but they were warning me I could not be on the Quetzalcoatl when it arrived at the Moon.
I wondered briefly why they had not left me on the Hai Ba Tru’ng, which would have got me into a Lunar hospital with a minimal delay. The official excuse was that my health was too precarious for even that much of a delay. Just because nobody was willing to tell me the details, I was beginning to worry that they might be right. However, the other possibility was that I was becoming too hot for even the TDF. I felt a pang of sympathy for
Alexander, who also had to face the reality that the TDF could no longer protect him.
If I could not depend on either the firepower of the TDF or the neutrality of LR, there were very few alternatives. At some point, LUVN would need a commercial resupply if it were to continue operating, but I could not afford to wait for that ship, nor could I hide in the crowd on a tiny institution that would be closely watched. I might be able to hide somewhere in Thule Station, but the presence of so many trigger-happy traitors within MI suggested that would be almost as dangerous to my Mission as a direct surrender to Martian Intelligence.
The only remaining option I could think of was to hitch a ride with the Martian military, hidden behind my new persona. They would be unlikely to examine me with the same care as regular intelligence, particularly because I would go aboard as a helpless invalid with obvious scarring. The Ghost had had many personality defects, one of which was vanity; I had never disguised myself as helpless. Scarring was entirely in character, but I had always been ready for action. The idea was preposterous, of course, and for that reason frighteningly attractive.
It slowly occurred to me that they were finishing up the operations on my skin, repairing damage and introducing fake scars. I could feel nothing and was therefore still on heavy pain medications. There are some kinds of plans that should never be made while loopy with pain meds; working out how to evade Martian Intelligence during my transport back to the Moon surely was one of them. Still, it left me worrying in circles.
I settled to wait, reading through the message a few more times to be sure I had not missed anything. When they were done, and started cleaning up, I had a couple of questions.
“Thank you all for your good work. In the meanwhile, I am curious about my neighbours and desperate for entertainment. Will Langara Unitary rebuild the factory? Do I have access to the economic feeds while we are here? I would like to check their economic health.”
MacFinn, “I do na believe I ever heard a patient o’mine ask t’read stock prices in surgery!”
One of the LR surgeons laughingly replied, “Surgeon MacFinn is TDF all the way. Spacers after a mishap almost always ask to read stock prices, to see if their misfortune has affected their investments. Yes, we have access to a wide selection of news, economic, political and entertainment feeds. We always envy the TDF equipment, but they refuse to use their best antennae for such trivia. Channel 25645 has the channel guide. You might want to avoid the news and political feeds until you are more stable, since they have become quite turbulent in the last week.”
I dare say they had and were probably hysterical as the viceregal fleet approached. The noise level would be deafening, and I doubted that even the most level-headed commentators understood the full import of the changes that were occurring. The two LR surgeons packed their tools and left, but MacFinn stayed to talk.
MacFinn/private, “Could na speak while they’re here, but ye need t’know that only two people know what ye look like now. After we did what was urgent on the Columbia, the wee lass asked me t’stay and change y’face so the Martians could na recognize ye. Minimal surgery, o'course, nothing that'd complicate y’recovery. She told me step by step what needed t’be done, and every change seemed to rip a piece out o'her soul. I hope y’know what ye’re doin, and treat her wi the respect she deserves.”
I did not mention that I had removed my mask briefly with Sergei. It might not matter because fresh out of surgery I would have been puffy and swollen.
To MacFinn/converse, “Thank you for telling me that. I did not know she was going to do it, and I am grateful that she did. Surgeon MacFinn, I am terribly afraid that if Martian Intelligence realizes I am on this ship, all pretence that Lunar Recovery is politically neutral will be thrown aside and everyone in space will suffer. I must not be on this ship when we arrive at the Moon. I know I am here to benefit from the hospital facilities, but it is more important by far to protect LR from the consequences of my presence. Somehow, I must get back to the Moon, but not on an LR ship.
“I do not want to meet the captain at all, nor the surgeons more than is absolutely necessary. To the extent possible, all trace of my presence should be erased. There are three, maybe four, people I want to contact within this ship, you being one of them. Trying to plan an escape without talking to anyone is a pretty puzzle and I am not sure where I can turn for help.”
MacFinn/converse, “Ah, lad, ye’re na as invisible as ye hope, nor as helpless as ye fear. I know ye’re one o’the Banshees and the crew’re aware that a Banshee is among em. Everyone who was awake in space saw what happened on the Deng. The marines and sailors in the TDF are buzzin with the story, it’s spreadin amongst the spacers, and I ha heard fragments o’six ballads already. Every crew member here is aware o’what ye did and are grateful that ye did it, even if they do na know it was ye personally. They’ll keep y’secret! They’ll support ye whenever and wherever they can. If ye need to be invisible, they’ll deny ye were ever here. The shipboard records can be deleted or rewritten. You dinna need t’fear this ship, nor the repercussions they might face. They ha faced em all before and they’ll ride out this’n as well.”
To MacFinn/converse, “Thank you for the encouragement, but the problem is worse...”
MacFinn/converse, “Lad, lad, it’s always worse. So listen again, and listen right this time. You’re a Banshee an everyone on this crew’ll keep y’secret.
“It’s a little early, but I am gonna get ye some food, then y’need to take a nap. After the nap, we’ll talk for real.”
He stepped out the door and closed it carefully. I felt like I was in a rudderless boat being swept towards a waterfall, and I was the only one who could hear the roar. My head was spinning with worry, which was wrong. The Ghost should not feel worry. Somehow, I had reset to the Cripple, and had not even noticed the change. I reset back to the Ghost, but had a hard time maintaining a train of thought and a few minutes later was worrying again. If there was ever another patient with two medical monitors and the hidden one was broken, it might be important to warn LR that their pain killers made the interactions between them unstable. I should tell MacFinn, but I could not reveal the secret of the second monitor.
He arrived back carrying some bulbs.
MacFinn/private, “Lad, ye’re in a right pet. Relax. I ha some blah food and baby booze wi meds t’help ye sleep. I will leave em here. I’ll be waitin across the hall if ye want anything that I’m allowed t’give.”
After he closed the door, I flipped off my mask and tried to enjoy a meal of something with the texture of boiled tofu and even less flavour, washed down with a med-laden approximation of milk. I think the new meds countered the pain killers, or maybe they were just wearing off, because the meal was spiced with twinges from my face muscles as I opened my mouth for a squirt of food so soft I could chew it with my tongue.
2357-03-14 06:00
Painful Decisions
Not a long sleep, but I woke feeling more alive than I had for several days. They say that pain is a proof of life, and I had my proof complete to the QED with all the lemmas and corollaries tossed in for good measure. My stomach was painfully empty again, my arms and legs ached, there were sharp prickles all over the skin of my back and across my belly. I tried to take a deep breath and felt the muscles between my ribs complain. I hoped it was the muscle that hurt, because I had not been aware of breaking any bones. Wiggling my toes was painful but possible, as was clenching my fists. I tried opening my mouth but desisted quickly. Slowly, carefully, I reached out to fetch my mask and slid it gently over my face. Equally slowly, I put my arms back by my sides. Even if MacFinn knew my new face, I was always suspicious that people might walk past the door while it was open.
To MacFinn/private, “I am awake and wish I was not. The least of my complaints is hunger.”
There was a long pause, perhaps to give himself time to wake up.
MacFinn/converse, “So, wi us again. Food’ll fix the pain. LR has its own meds t’boo
st recovry speed, faster even than TDF meds but more painful. They like to keep ye dosed on pain killers or asleep while they work. Prob’ly keeps ye quiet if ye’re politically sensitive, which is also good. First time I seen em in action. Gonna make some recommendations when I get back home. Back in a mo.”
A few moments later, MacFinn came through the door carrying a slab of the tofu-like all-in-one substitute for food, and two bulbs of beverage. He gave me a measured squirt from the green bulb first, an intensely bitter concoction that I almost spat out involuntarily inside the mask.
He was watching me closely.
MacFinn/converse, “They do na mix it wi anything, cause it jus gives people food aversions. Wait till y’jaws do na hurt much, then wash it away wi a swish o’drink. They say everything tastes better than the green death, so even this congealed air might seem good.”
To MacFinn/converse, “Must be new. Trying to keep down the stuff in the green bulb when your stomach is all shot to pieces would be rough. Last time I needed the hospitality of LR, they used standard TDF meds.”
MacFinn/converse, “The meds we’ve bin usin for ye were intravenous and much pleasanter, but make y’mind wander. This won’t. If ye want t’think about hard decisions, now’s the time. I’ll leave ye t’eat in peace. If it starts t’hurt, I can give ye’nother shot o’the green death.
“Jus by-the-by, ye might be interested t’know that the TDF has requested us t’return to Valhalla, where there ha been an explosion wi numerous casualties. T’free up bed space, we ha stopped at LUVN already t’drop off some of the farmers who’re not badly injured and want t’get the farm back in operation. Will the delay be a problem?”
Lord Banshee- Fugitive Page 42