“Don’t even joke about that,” Muna said, sharply. The pain in her voice brought us up short. “It isn’t even remotely funny.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. “They might have wanted the Captain,” I suggested, finally. “Whoever they are…killing a starship Captain would have given them a serious victory.”
“But a victory for whom?” Rolf asked.
We had no answer.
At the end of the second week, the Captain ordered us to set course for Albion, a world only thirty light years from Terra Nova. I’d been expecting some kind of farewell from the planet, but apart from a brief inspection by the Port Admiral commanding the observation squadron there was nothing, not even a goodbye signal. If the Captain felt the lack, he didn’t show it, merely ordering the Pilot to open the wormhole and take us out of the system. I had hoped that I’d be on the helm again, but after the brief encounter with the pirate ship the Captain had decided that the Pilot would handle all manoeuvres in an inhabited solar system. I didn’t mind. I’d had plenty of time to practice in simulators and somehow it felt more real after I’d flown the ship into battle.
There was not, of course, any chance to slack off during the voyage. Lieutenant Hatchet kept us working hard, hammering new skills and disciplines into our heads even as we struggled to master automatic weapons and unarmed combat. I spent several hours per day on the tactical console, learning to master the system, even though I doubted I’d be allowed to use it until I reached Lieutenant, if I ever did. I was starting to realise – no, I’d realised it long ago – that I had been unprepared for duty when I’d boarded the ship and without the extra training, I would probably have been killed long ago.
“But Lieutenant,” I said, one day, “I won’t be allowed to use this console until after I reach Lieutenant…”
“If the ship is attacked, and all the Lieutenants are killed, do you think that the Captain will decide not to continue to return fire?” Lieutenant Hatchet asked, dryly. I flushed. It had been a pretty stupid question. “If I am out of the loop for any reason, the next in line will take over and continue to operate the console. If the senior crew was wiped out, you would be in command of the vessel…”
And God help her, I thought. I had wanted command of my own, one day, but I knew now that I wasn't even remotely prepared for command. The Engineer or the Pilot would be far more qualified for the position, but regulations were inflexible. The Department Heads were not in the chain of command, any more than the non-commissioned crewmen were, while the merest Ensign was. I’d need years before I knew half of what the Captain knew about running a starship. The punishment duty Lieutenant Hatchet had assigned me once, helping her with the paperwork, had rubbed that in as well. I had had no idea just how much paperwork was involved in operating the starship.
It might not make any difference, of course. The Space Opera videos that I’d absorbed back when I’d been a child, when the UNPF patrolled the galaxy and everything was well with the universe, had suggested that a heavily-damaged starship would be able to limp back home eventually. It hadn’t taken long for me to lose that impression. A hit that took out the bridge and most of the senior crew would almost certainly destroy the ship completely. The bridge was the most well-protected compartment on the ship, but a nuclear warhead – officially banned, but it was an open secret that some pirate ships possessed them, along with UNPF ships – would vaporise the entire vessel.
“Once you’ve finished with the tactical console for the day, go on to the shuttlebay,” Lieutenant Hatchet ordered, finally. I didn’t relax. The shuttle training simulators had been designed by a sadist who was far more devious than the person who dreamed up the Academy simulators. The Pilot had been needed on Terra Nova after all. “The Captain wants you all checked out on the shuttles before we arrive at Albion. You may be needed to operate on detached duty.”
I took the risk and asked her. “Lieutenant,” I asked, “is Albion going to be as dangerous as Terra Nova?”
Lieutenant Hatchet looked me right in the eye. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, blandly. I blinked in surprise, but realised just what she meant. It wasn't something we could talk about in the open. “Everyone knows that Terra Nova is a peaceful world and any rumours to the contrary are malicious propaganda spread by the enemies of peace and harmony.”
I got the message and shut up.
Two weeks later, we arrived at Albion.
Chapter Six
The relationship between the UNPF and the various independent freighters is a complex one. Official UN policy is that independent freighters are dangerous and therefore all freighters should be operated under UN supervision as part of a shipping cartel. This is accomplished by endless bureaucratic regulation that makes the lives of independent freighter crews much harder. Regardless, independent freighters make up a critical part of the galactic economy and, because of the regulations, tend to be strong supporters of independence movements. The UNPF therefore harasses them where possible.
-Thomas Anderson. An Unbiased Look at the UNPF. Baen Historical Press, 2500.
Albion was settled thirty years after the invention of the Jump Drive by a forward party from a nation called England, one that I hadn’t even heard of until I’d read the briefing notes on the planet. England had been absorbed into the Pan-European Federation centuries ago, after the nationalists had left to live on various other planets. I had learned, by now, to take everything in the briefing notes with a great deal of salt, but even so, it was apparent that Albion was doing much better than Terra Nova. The system was crammed with sublight spacecraft mining the asteroids and moving between the outer planets, while the handful of UN craft seemed badly outnumbered. I didn’t know if there was a garrison on the surface at all – the briefing notes had been vague on the exact political status of Albion – but it certainly seemed peaceful. Of course, Terra Nova had also looked peaceful from high above.
“Penny for your thoughts, sir?”
I looked over at Marine Corporal Alice Hayden and had to fight to repress an embarrassed grin. Alice was two years older than me and looked tough enough to take on a gorilla and win. I had sparred with her on the mat and she’d held back…and she had still won. I wouldn’t have dared to pick a fight with her over anything…and I was supposed to be the one in command. The shuttle was an independent ship at the moment and, to all intents and purposes, I was the Captain.
“I was just thinking about how peaceful it is out here,” I said, ruefully. I might have been the senior officer on the shuttle, but everyone else had far more experience than I had. The Senior Chief had warned me to listen to the others and learn from their mistakes. It was, apparently, cheaper than making my own. “There’s no one shooting at us, there’s no one even shouting at us…”
Alice laughed. “In space,” she announced dramatically, “no one can hear you scream.”
I rolled my eyes. It was a kind of unofficial motto for the Marines and they never lost a chance to work it into their words. It was true, of course, but it didn’t make me any happier. There were dozens of vessels in orbit around Albion and anything could be happening on any of them. The UNPF had a remit to prevent smuggling, but there just weren’t enough starships to enforce it properly. There was little point in smuggling anything into Albion – the system could provide everything its inhabitants might want – but there was plenty worth smuggling out of the system. The UNPF had been warned to watch for high-tech cargos and other illegal consignments.
“I know,” I said. I was always a little shy around Alice. She scared the crap out of me. She was the type of woman who would go walking through dark alleyways, confident that the night held nothing more dangerous than her. If I hadn’t known her reputation, I might even have asked her out on a date; Marines weren’t in the same chain of command. “It’s just beautiful.”
“You’ll also have a much greater chance of appreciating it in the future if you get on with the patrol,” Alice said, dryly.
I nodded reluctantly. I might be senior officer on the shuttle, but that was only as long as I obeyed the Captain’s orders. “Which ship do you want to board?”
I looked down at the live feed from System Command. A handful of freighters had already been inspected by the local UN detachment and marked as clear. A couple more had immunity from inspection and had to be left alone. That left seventeen freighters in orbit that needed to be inspected. The smallest of them made our starship look tiny. It was going to be a long day.
“That one,” I said, finally. I pointed to the icon representing a massive bulk freighter. The manifest claimed that it was transporting vital farming machinery to Amish, something that made little sense until I recalled that Amish was a low-tech world with a thriving trade in illegal technology. The people who had founded the planet had wanted a life free of the corrupting influence of technology, but some of the settlers had disagreed when they’d finally discovered just what a low-tech life was like. The crew of the freighter would stand to make a huge profit if they delivered to the right people. “I’m taking us in now.”
The smaller the craft, the faster it could build up acceleration. I triggered the drive field and swooped down towards the freighter, transmitting our IFF signal ahead of us. By law, we had to keep a safe distance from any other craft while performing an intercept, but I skirted the border as close as I dared. Flying the shuttle was different to flying an ordinary aircraft. I could do things in a shuttle that would be impossible in a jet aircraft. I could even turn on a credit piece.
“They’re acknowledging,” Alice said. I allowed myself a moment of relief. We were legally authorised to inspect any starship, but the independent freighter crews tended to dislike us encroaching on their territory. It wasn't unknown for shuttle crews to suffer accidents. In theory, all of the freighters were unarmed; in practice, there were dozens of interesting tricks freighter crews could pull to give them some teeth. The Captain would avenge our deaths, unless the freighter made it clear before the starship could intercept, but that wouldn’t save our lives. “They’re demanding a full copy of our authorisations.”
“Send it,” I ordered. The Senior Chief had warned me about that too. We harass them, they harass us…and the winner is the one who keeps his cool. “Order them to open a docking port for us and signal location.”
“Done,” Alice said. A new icon blinked into existence on my display. “They’ve opened a port, sir.”
I nodded. By law, all starships have to have compatible equipment, but I wouldn’t have put it past a freighter crew to tamper with it in some way to make docking harder, particularly as it wasn't something I could charge them for. Freighters operate close to the margins and it wasn't unknown for them to have maintenance problems that couldn’t be handled outside a shipyard. I slowed the shuttle, carefully matched course and speed, and linked the two ships together. A moment later, we were docked.
“Matching pressure now,” Crewman Frederick Jones said. He was a big hulking man who didn’t look as if he could be intimidated by anyone short of the Senior Chief. I had the impression that he was the real escort for me, as well as the real inspector. What did I know about searching a starship? I’d barely had a chance to inspect the diagrams of the freighter. “Hatches opening.”
I reached for my cap and set it on my head. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go meet the neighbours.”
The freighter captain and two of his crew were waiting for us as we stepped out of the airlock. The captain reminded me of Captain Harriman, except he had a long beard – forbidden to UNPF naval officers – and a slight paunch. His expression was carefully controlled, but I was sure that I could sense an underlying anger and concern. The Senior Chief had briefed me carefully and warned me to ignore anything apart from actual smuggling, but the Captain wouldn’t know that. A proper examination of his ship would probably end up with his licence being confiscated on the grounds his ship was unfit to fly. The other two crewmen didn’t bother to hide their disdain.
“Welcome onboard my ship,” the Captain said, calmly. “I am Captain Scott, master of the Underlying Liberty, out of Williamson’s World. I also have a cleared window to depart in an hour, so I suggest that we move along with it.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and then caught myself. He reminded me so much of my Captain that obedience was automatic. “Ah, we can clear a later window if necessary, but I’m sure it won’t be. May I see your manifest?”
The Captain nodded to one of his crewmen, who passed me a datapad. I pulled out my terminal and compared it briefly to the manifest System Command had sent me. It was largely identical, although two crewmen on the original list were missing, replaced with new names and faces.
“They decided that they would prefer another ship,” the Captain explained, when I asked. “There’s no shortage of berths around here for qualified crewmen and some other Captain made them an offer. I had to take on two more to replace them.”
“I see,” I said, puzzled. “Didn’t they sign a contract to work for you for several years?”
He smiled at my naivety. “Not in the real world,” he said, dryly. “A senior crewman can earn far more by advancing up the ladder owning to his experience, not to his political connections. No crewman would accept such a contract unless they were really desperate and probably unsuited for the job. This isn’t Earth, you know.”
I flushed slightly. “No, sir,” I agreed. On Earth, it was extremely difficult to get rid of an employee unless there was clear proof of criminal activity. The UN had finally granted the workers all the rights they’d sought since time out of mind. Things were definitely different outside the Solar System. “I’ll need to inspect the newcomers cards…”
“They have already been cleared by System Command,” the Captain said, still calmly. I wondered if he was mocking me slightly, but his face was still blank. “I can have copies fired over to your starship if you like, but System Command handled it for us.”
“Good,” I said. This was not going according to plan. “I believe we’ll start with the bridge, if you don’t mind…?”
The Captain probably did mind, but he led us down a long corridor, chattering away as if we were welcome guests. The interior corridors were surprisingly clean and tidy – I had been expecting something darker and unpleasant – and decorated with children’s scribbles. The Underlying Liberty was a family-owned ship, I remembered from the manifest; they had special licences to carry children and even give them education onboard the vessel. I envied them. I hadn’t known just how ignorant I was, despite the Academy, until I’d boarded the Jacques Delors. The bridge was neat and tidy, but compared to our bridge it looked primitive, with several consoles merged together and two of them open for inspection. I peered inside, just to be through, but I honestly couldn’t have told a working console from a useless unit. The Engineer probably could have, but he wasn't with us.
“I’ve got two of the kids working on the console,” Captain Scott explained, much to my astonishment. That contravened several safety regulations, but the Senior Chief’s warning hung in my mind and I disregarded it. I’d have to make a report to the Captain, but there was little point in harassing anyone now. “They’re learning how to carry out repairs without spare components.”
“Impressive,” I said, and meant it. We’d been taught that when a component becomes faulty, it has to be replaced. We didn’t know how to open a component and repair it if there were no spares available. It was no wonder that the First Lieutenant had so much paperwork to do. A missing component at the wrong time could doom the entire vessel and crew. “We need to inspect the cargo holds as well, and then we’ll leave you to your window.”
The Captain took us down a set of stairs – no intership cars for a freighter – and into the main cargo hold. It was a massive modular structure – normally, the freighter would simply unload them all in orbit, rather than trying to land – packed with cargo crates. A handful had been sealed by UN authority and I left those alone, but
we opened up a couple more and checked them against the manifest. I wouldn’t have known a piece of farming gear from a cargo of illegal weapons, but the Marines seemed calm and the Captain didn’t look nervous.
“It all seems fine,” I said, finally. I had the legal authority to insist on a full search, but there were no grounds for it and the Captain would be annoyed with me. I’d be cleaning toilets for the next month with a toothbrush. “Thank you for your time.”
“You’re welcome,” Captain Scott said. I knew he didn’t mean it, but I accepted it graciously. “I hope to see you again sometime.”
We were back onboard the shuttle and heading away from the freighter before I realised what he meant.
“We’re picking up an order from System Command,” Alice said, suddenly. “They want us to inspect this freighter here.”
I blinked. The small freighter was pulling away from the planet. I checked the log and it had an open window to depart, but I took the shuttle after it anyway. System Command probably had a reason for it. There was no reason why the freighter couldn’t continue its journey after we’d inspected it, either. The concept of opening a departure window had been outdated centuries ago.
Martial Law 1: Patriotic Treason Page 6