The Iron Admiral: Conspiracy

by Greta van Der Rol

  Galbraith sat in the president’s chair, underneath the coat of arms. The humans sat on Galbraith’s left; Singel, Frykes, McKinley, Vetch, a space, then Allysha, Saahren and Butcher. Allysha rubbed her leg nervously and recognized displacement behavior. They’re just men, men with titles. Her head jerked up when the first of the ptorix delegation arrived, resplendent in red and gold robes with matching headdress. He glided into the room with self-assured arrogance, a ptorix noble of high status. All the humans stood. Allysha noted that even in the high headdress the ptorix was not quite as tall as Saahren.

  “Good to see you again, Lord Daizhen,” Galbraith said, smiling. He paused while the man who had entered behind Daizhen, repeated his words in Ptorix.

  Saahren’s voice spoke via her implant. “Anxhou’s ambassador with his tame human, Ingor Tesso.”

  “Lord Daizhen returns your greeting.” Tesso, a short, thin, undistinguished looking individual, had the look of an accountant or a back room lawyer, studious and pale. Dressed in a less elaborate version of his master’s costume, a red and gold, floor length robe, he wore his hair long, parted down the middle and hanging to his shoulders. If Tesso had intended to impress, he’d failed. He looked absurd, almost comical, like a character in a children’s program. Mister Cone, who would be in company with Mister Ball and Miss Cube. She suppressed the grin. This wasn’t supposed to be funny.

  Daizhen’s eyes flicked across the humans. He registered Allysha’s presence without any reaction, but she noticed a spike of blue that settled quickly back down to yellow-green when he looked at Saahren.

  Daizhen was uncomfortable; just a little bit.

  The ambassador moved to his place beside the conference table, where ptorix platforms were set, ready for the visitors. Tesso fetched a chair and sat beside Daizhen, staring at the humans with haughty defiance.

  Qerra’s ptorix ambassador was last to arrive. “Welcome to you, Lord Marratax,” Galbraith said.

  “Thank you, Mister President,” replied the ptorix in accented Standard. “Good day to you, Admiral Saahren.” His robes were deep red with gold trim, less ornate than Daizhen’s costume but probably more comfortable. His eyes glowed greenish blue. Curious, interested.

  “If we’re all here,” Galbraith said, “let’s get started. You will see that Admiral Saahren is here in person to report on the incident at Brjyl. I’m sure our guests will be fascinated to hear what you have to say, Admiral.”

  On the other side of the table, Daizhen made a remark.

  “My Lord wonders if you have any real new evidence to present, or if you intend to offer more excuses,” translated Tesso. He raised a superior eyebrow.

  Saahren stood. “I have no need to offer excuses, as you will see. First I’ll show you the distress signal sent from the settlement on Brjyl. I know you have all seen this footage already but I wish to refresh your memories.”

  Butcher activated the HV in the center of the table.

  A panic-stricken man, hair disheveled, eyes round with fright, sat at a console, staring into the camera.

  “Anybody… this is Brjyl control… we’re under attack!” His voice was a rapid staccato, his eyes darted to his right as he talked. “Confederacy troops, firing at will… it’s a massacre… please…. Help…” The speaker’s head turned to stare, slack jawed. A figure appeared, its back to the sensor. The crackling zap of a laser weapon rang out; the operator clutched at his chest and fell to the ground. The figure turned around, a trooper in activated body armor. Face anonymous behind a helmet visor, it advanced toward the camera. A gloved hand reached out and then there was static.

  Butcher paused the HV.

  “My people obtained a ptorix information system from the ruins of the control room at Brjyl,” Saahren said. “This is what really happened.”

  The scene was calm, even mundane. A windowless room, softly lit, its walls unadorned grey plasteel, a closed door opposite the camera. Six people, three ptorix and three humans, were in evidence. Four of the operators sat at workstations around a central plinth. Two people, one ptorix, the other human, bent over one of the seated operators, examining something on the screen. Suddenly the door slid open.

  Troopers in Confederacy battle armor surged in and fired their weapons in arcs. The air thrummed with the noise of discharging weapons, breaking furniture, exploding equipment. The workers hardly had a chance to register surprise. Blood and ichor splattered the walls and workstations. The firing stopped. A work station spat sparks and smoked; a last chair clattered to the ground. The operator whose screen had attracted an audience hung dead in his chair. The other people lay scattered on the floor amongst the remains of their equipment.

  A trooper removed his helmet and jacket, revealing coveralls identical to those worn by the operators.

  The trooper pulled the dead man out of his chair and took his place.

  “Okay, ready to go,” he said. “Outside.”

  The other troopers left the room.

  The bogus operator delivered his message, a panic stricken man, hair disheveled. “Anybody… this is Brjyl control… we’re under attack!” His voice was a rapid staccato. “Confederacy troops, firing at will… it’s a massacre… please…. Help…” The speaker’s head turned to the door. A trooper appeared and fired his weapon into the air. The operator clutched at his chest and fell to the ground. The trooper turned and reached a gloved hand to the camera.

  Allysha, watching the watchers as the drama unfolded, saw Tesso flinch, just for a moment, as the trooper put on his act. Marratrax was startled but intrigued; Daizhen was guarded. Next to her, Saahren smiled, very slightly.

  “That went pretty well.’ The trooper who had put on the act wore a satisfied smirk as he stood and brushed his coveralls down with his hands. “Come on, Erascu,” he said to one man. “Make me look like the operator. And don’t forget the special effects when I’m shot.”

  Erascu had taken off his helmet. He smirked and attached an InfoDroid to the main computer. After a few moments, he turned to the leader and said, “How’s that?”

  They all gathered around the console, watched for a moment then slapped Erascu on the back.

  “Great job, Erascu. I could have sworn it was me. Seems it wasn’t. Okay, let’s get this out to space.”

  Butcher paused the image.

  “This is not very clear,” Saahren explained. “The InfoDroid has been instructed to edit the broadcast message. The features of the man making the distress call were changed to match those of the operator who was killed. The man’s likeness was, of course, held in the settlement’s personnel system.”

  “Set to widest channel,” one of the uniformed men said. “We want the biggest possible audience.”

  “As long as it gets to Carnessa,” the leader said.

  Erascu sent the message, then the leader clapped his hands together. “Time to ruin the evidence.”

  Allysha clamped her mouth shut as each of the human bodies was shot again, in the head. Another trooper took out a knife and did something to the ptorix victims. A wave of gunfire destroyed the computer systems. She wasn’t the only one affected by the violence. Singel looked green and McKinley’s throat worked.

  “Well done, boys. Let’s go and have some fun,” said the leader as he finished putting his armor back on over the coveralls. He led the others out into the street.

  “As you can see,” Saahren said, “the distress signal was actually sent by the attackers.”

  Tesso shrugged and answered without reference to Daizhen. “So? This proves nothing. The attack could still have been made by Confederacy troops.” The interpreter looked calm enough except for the tightness around his eyes.

  Saahren chuckled. “A complicated double play, Mister Tesso? Hardly. The man performing as the operator is Gresh Glatchorn. He left the Fleet three years ago. The man Erascu has never been in Fleet.

  He is an expert in human information systems.”

  “Why have we not seen this before?” Daizhen sai
d in Ptorix. His eyes flicked across the humans in the room. Saahren, Galbraith and McKinley; no one else mattered.

  “Lord Daizhen asks why we should believe this evidence.” Tesso scowled, belligerent, aggressive. “Why was it not shown before?”

  “We didn’t have it before.” Saahren held Tesso’s gaze until the man’s eyes dropped. “It was retrieved from Brjyl quite recently.”

  “By you? That would be an invasion of Qerran space.” Tesso blustered, covering up uncertainty.

  “We have no record of Confederacy Fleet vessels in Qerran territory,” Marratrax said.

  “Well, where did you get it from?” demanded Tesso, his forehead shiny and his nostrils slightly flared.

  “I don’t know how the machine was obtained and I don’t care.” Saahren was completely calm, his voice soft and reasonable. He must be driving Tesso crazy. “It was offered to us, probably because we pay more.”

  “Ah. So you admit you bought this information? Paid credits for it to bolster your own story?” Tesso hardly bothered to pretend to translate for Daizhen now. Allysha watched the ambassador’s eyes. She was quite sure he understood more Standard than he admitted.

  Marratrax sat quietly watching the show, eyes yellow-green. More and more, Allysha thought Marratrax hoped that Saahren would win this argument.

  “How was it authenticated?” Tesso leaned across the desk and pointed at the HV. “How can we know this really came from Brjyl? How can we know this has not been manufactured to absolve your people?”

  His voice was becoming shrill.

  “We are quite happy for you to match whatever images you have of the control room before this incident, against these. Obviously, the later pictures match these images. I accept it may have been possible to contrive the events. As to how it was authenticated…” Saahren looked at Allysha. “Miss Marten actually set up the information systems on Brjyl.”

  Allysha gazed steadily at the two ptorix. Any nervousness had disappeared; adrenalin filled her veins. It was time to perform for Qerra.

  “I returned from Brjyl only a few days before the attack. The data you see here was recorded on this machine.” Allysha pulled out the device and placed it in front of her on the table. “You will have noticed, my Lords, that the second version of the message, the bogus one, was recorded from a different angle.

  You cannot see the operator’s face and the trooper is seen from the front as he enters. This device was set up in secret on the opposite wall, facing the door.”

  “Who is this woman?” Daizhen hissed at Tesso.

  Before Tesso could answer, Allysha spoke in Ptorix. “I am a Qerran, Lord Daizhen, Lord Marratrax. I can work on ptorix and human information systems. I was contracted to install this system as a precaution against industrial espionage and, as it proves, against murderers.”

  “You speak Ptorix.” Daizhen’s eyes swirled blue.

  “I do.”

  “You are Qerran,” hissed Tesso. “How can you weave your fingers with these murdering Confederacy humans?”

  Murdering Confederacy humans, huh? She’d seen all the evidence. “I want Qerra to remain independent and free, a place where humans and ptorix tolerate each other and live in harmony. I don’t want another Belvista, or another Jossur.”

  Tesso glared at her. Marratrax’s speaking mouth quirked. His eyes swirled green. He was amused. “I have heard of you. You are Professor Marten’s daughter, are you not?”

  “That is correct, Lord Marratrax.” How would a senior Qerran diplomat know her name? She’d address that later.

  Tesso scowled. “This proves nothing,” he said, snapping his arm across in a cutting gesture. “The body of a Confederacy Fleet trooper was found on the scene. Do you dispute that?” He spoke to Saahren, dismissing Allysha with a venomous glance.

  “Not at all,” Saahren said. “The Qerran authorities were informed at the time of the incident that Trooper Baker was declared missing in action several weeks before the incident at Brjyl. How he got to Brjyl…”

  Saahren shrugged. “But… I believe we have done enough to prove that the Confederacy Fleet was not responsible for these murders. Lord Marratrax, what is your position?”

  “I agree that what you have shown provides evidence that your military did not carry out a deliberate attack. And I hasten to add that my Government has always believed it was so. But it is clear humans did this.”

  Daizhen made a remark. Allysha translated for Saahren, leaning toward him. “He says their warship stays in Carnessa orbit until he’s comfortable ‘law abiding ptorix citizens’ are safe from human murderers.”

  “Let me show you something else, Lord Marratrax, Lord Daizhen.” Saahren’s voice was soft. “One thing we always found curious about Brjyl was that there was no sign of any real fight from the locals. Yet small colonies have learnt the lessons from the past and are normally prepared to defend themselves. One of the main things they do is protect the control room; raise armored barriers to stop intruders from getting in. In fact, the colony records, which are lodged monthly in Ullnish, were examined. The miners had a well thought out defense plan that they rehearsed regularly. Is that not so, Lord Marratrax?”

  Marratrax gestured agreement. “Indeed, all such new settlements must set up an emergency plan as matter of course, before they will be given permission to proceed.”

  “Now the fact that the armored barriers were not raised would seem to indicate that the operators were not expecting an attack,” Saahren said. “And indeed, they were not. They were contacted from orbit.

  Listen.”

  He activated the HV again. In the Brjyl control room, a human comms officer was seen contacting a ship in orbit.

  “Unidentified ship, please state your identity and business.”

  “This is Qerran shipGhentasaic. We’re here to inspect your facility for compliance,” a human voice said.

  Marratrax suddenly became more alert, his eyes taking on a violet tinge, his tentacles weaving together on the table in front of him. Daizhen, to his credit, did not flinch.

  “Compliance?” a puzzled human in the control room said. “Did you know about this, Esstez?”

  “I wasn’t expecting it,” a ptorix replied, tentacles twitching, “but it happens. Let them go ahead. The sooner they land, the sooner they leave.”

  “True enough. Better check they’re genuine, though.” The human turned back to his equipment. A moment later, he replied to the orbiting ship. “Your identity is confirmed,Ghentasaic. Please transmit Qerran clearances.”

  “The clearances were confirmed,” Saahren said. “The settlers expected a small party of inspectors, not armored troopers.”

  Tesso’s lip curled in contempt. “This is all just an elaborate hoax.” He waved a hand at Allysha, venting his irritation on her. “This… this woman has contrived it to cover up your complicity.”

  Tesso was frightened, shifting attention to her. She opened her mouth to speak, but Saahren put a placatory hand on her arm.

  “Please proceed, Lord Admiral,” Marratrax said.

  “This is the voice analysis of the man on theGhentasaic,” Saahrensaid. An oscillating wave pattern appeared on the flatscreen. “This is a comparison with Mister Tesso’s voice.”

  The two lines matched perfectly. Tesso swallowed and Daizhen’s eyes turned the violet of fury.

  “This is contrived.” Tesso tried to cover his fear with derision but he moistened dry lips. A vein pulsed in his forehead. White knuckles clutched the table top.

  “Yes, it is contrived.” Marratrax drew himself up, arms at his sides, and his eyes glowed indigo. “It seems you have contrived to bring conflict between the Qerran Suldanate and the Confederacy, Mister Tesso.”

  He continued to speak with Daizhen in Ptorix. Tesso wilted, seeming to collapse into his elaborate costume. A trickle of perspiration ran down his face past his ear and dripped onto his neck, almost as if he was melting.

  “He’s telling Daizhen to get that ship out of Qerra
n orbit,” translated Allysha, soto voce. She grinned.

  “They’re going to complain to the Khophir and to Anxhou. He’s very, very angry.”

  Marratrax’s eyes positively sparked ultra violet and his tentacles threshed.

  Saahren leaned over her and nodded. “Yes, I can see that. This will finish Daizhen.”

  Marratrax stopped speaking. For a moment no one spoke. Daizhen turned his fury on Tesso. “We go.

  Lord Anxhou will not take this lightly. Neither will I, human .”

  The translator had sat staring at the desk, eyes downcast, listless. Now he jerked upright. “No,” he hissed. “No. If I go down so will you.”

  Without warning, he pulled a small cylinder from somewhere in the recesses of his robe and fired it at Daizhen. The ptorix squealed and collapsed, writhing, to the floor. Tesso lurched away from Marratrax’s outstretched tentacles and turned hate-filled eyes on Saahren.

  “It’s you. It’s always you,” he snarled, lips drawn back from his teeth. “Well, not this time.”

  Time slowed. The weapon in Tesso’s hand turned toward Saahren, who stood at the table next to her.

  With all the time in the world, Allysha flung herself across in front of Saahren. For a moment she saw his eyes, filled with horror, before she hit his chest. Pain exploded in her left shoulder. She sagged into his arms, her whole body in spasm. Eyes squeezed shut, muscles convulsing, she still heard the uproar behind her. Tesso yelled abuse. Boots thudded. Somebody shouted for a doctor. Fingers tore away the material of her blouse.

  She felt a cool pad on the back of her neck and then nothing more.

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Allysha. Saahren scooped her up in his arms, holding her close, tight as he could while her whole body spasmed. Her teeth were locked together, her eyes squeezed shut. If she died… if she died…

  “Admiral? Is she all right?”

  He stared at the faces. Galbraith, Vetch. Behind them Tesso shouted obscenities, Marratrax bent over

  Daizhen’s body, guards clattered into the room.No, of course she isn’t fucking all right. The words lined up at his lips. “Butcher, get a medic.”