“Exactly so, Captain,” Sellenberg said. “Slow but reliable. See, here’s the info now.” He peered at the display for a moment, then turned back to his visitors.
“It looks like we’re all in luck. It seems that Noble-class cruisers are the most recent entry in our database.” He smiled deprecatingly. “Our database is only current through about ten years ago, you see, but it was —”
“The best you could get at the time, yes, I know,” Sydney cut him off. “As you can imagine, Mr. Sellenberg, we don’t really care about anything newer as long as you can service Morrigan.”
“You mean, you have the parts?” Kristoff looked as though she might clap her hands in delight.
“Ah — no.” The manager suddenly looked nervous as he glanced back and forth between the three TSM officers. “We definitely, absolutely, have the specs. We can manufacture any part of your ship that you need — anything except the ones listed as military secrets, of course. We currently don’t have clearance to unlock those sections of the database. But we can make anything else for you on demand.” He licked his lips, looking for a moment like a thirsty bear. “It’s just that we don’t have any of it in stock. There’s never been a need, don’t you see, and we can’t afford to manufacture low-demand stuff on spec.”
Kristoff took half a step toward the manager, looking as though she might be about to yell at the man in her frustration. Garvey, closer to her that was Sydney, quickly grabbed the engineer’s arm — though an objective observer might have wondered if the exec wasn’t counting to ten on his own part. Reassured after a moment that no assault was about to go down, Garvey drew a breath and gave the computer a look of disgust.
“So how long to ... manufacture ... what we need?”
Sellenberg now looked sheepish. “About a week, I’m afraid,” he said, hanging his head and sounding as though he really regretted the message.
“A week?” It would have taken a computer much faster than Sellenberg’s to determine which of the three officer had spoken first.
“I truly apologize,” Sellenberg said, and now he did sound sincere. “It’s not the actual manufacturing that takes time, it’s setting the machines up to make parts that we’ve never made before. Re-tooling is a very exacting process, you see.” His face brightened. “On the bright side, once they are fabricated it should only take two days to get everything installed. AHI has direct access through the Arega spacedock.” The manager now beamed like a proud father.
“I should hope so,” Kristoff blurted, then turned to Sydney. “Captain, I don’t like gallivanting around the system without those plates. We can do it,” she amended when Sydney’s face began to cloud, “but it raises all sorts of problems in protecting the systems underneath.”
Sydney sighed. “I understand your concerns, Ms. Kristoff,” she said, the very soul of conciliation. “However, I believe that Mr. Sellenberg was merely presenting us with a worst-case scenario.” She turned an iron gaze toward the local manager. “Isn’t that the case, Mr. Sellenberg?”
Sellenberg’s eyes widened and the man suddenly looked very nervous. “Well....”
Sydney gave the man a savage smile, then turned back to her exec. “XO, you and Ms. Kristoff will stay here and negotiate a deal with Mr. Sellenberg. Everything we need right now, manufactured and installed within one week.”
Garvey favored his captain with a smile that, while less overtly wild, conveyed no less determination. “Yes, Ma’am,” he said, sounding zealous as a new recruit.
Sellenberg’s face had acquired a look of abject horror that only eased slightly when Sydney added, “Be sure to see that Arega Heavy Industries gets a bonus from TSM for the rush.”
Garvey’s smile never wavered. “Of course, Captain.”
“And, Mr. Sellenberg.” The captain pinned the manager with a look that a laser might have envied. “Morrigan is going to be around here for a very long while. Considering the nature of our business I expect that we’ll be taking damage more often than we’d like, as we encounter pirates more and more often. If AHI is to be the go-to place for us to dry-dock and repair that damage, I believe that creating a stockpile of the parts most likely to be damaged is something that would be well worth your while.”
Sellenberg had regained most of his composure at this point, but managed only an nod when Sydney paused for his response.
“Good,” the captain agreed, and allowed her smile to moderate to a less threatening state. “I’m sure that Ms. Kristoff will be able to provide you with a list of just what parts you should stockpile and in what amounts.”
“You bet, Captain,” Kristoff chimed in, definitely looking cheerful once more.
“Meanwhile, Mr. Sellenberg, be assured that the TSM will pay a reasonable fee — in advance — for both the preparation and the maintenance of your stock … providing, of course, that Morrigan receives priority access to drydock facilities, and that in the future, anything on Ms. Kristoff’s list is installed within the two-day window you mentioned.”
Sydney paused for a breath, and to give Sellenberg a moment to breathe as well. “Does all this sound like something that Arega Heavy Industries would find in its best interests?”
Sellenberg was silent for a moment; it was obvious to the three officers that his brain was spinning as he considered the possibilities, and his options. At length he managed a smile that made up in greed for what it lacked in warmth. “I believe that we can do business on these terms, Captain,” he said. “I apologize for any ... distress ... that my original estimate may have caused. After all, getting rid of the pirates will benefit AHI as much as everyone else at 16 Cygni.”
“So it will.”
Sydney shook the manager’s hand once more, then motioned her officers to follow her to another corner of the room. “Negotiate well, people,” she told them quietly once they’d distanced themselves from the local. “I’m heading up to get Morrigan ready for a week of picket duty with our underwear showing. Meanwhile, you have two hours to hammer out the specifics while the shuttle makes the round-trip.”
“Can I shop for any extras, Captain?” Kristoff had a look of hope plastered in her face. Sydney frowned.
“What kind of extras?”
“A couple of things I’ve read about in my journals,” the engineer said softly. “They might come in handy over the next while, and they shouldn’t be too expensive to make.”
Sydney looked around. “You think these people have what you need to create these — whatever they are?”
“They should, Captain, if I supply the specs,” Kristoff assured her. “They’re nothing fancy, just things that aren’t yet standard for a Noble-class rig.”
Sydney stared at her engineer for a moment, then shook her head. “Fine. Mr. Garvey, just take care that Ms. Kristoff doesn’t buy all the candy in the store.”
Garvey chuckled. “Yes, Ma’am, only as much candy as she can carry.”
Sydney chuckled as well, then shook her head, turned, and headed for where the shuttle waited.
2
Later, in her office, Sydney was studying damage assessments on her terminal when there was a knock at her door.
“Enter,” she called, but continued to study the display for a moment before looking up. “Ah, XO,” she said in surprise when she saw who was there. “Back so soon?”
Garvey grinned at his captain. “Piece of cake, Captain,” he told her as he came to stand in front of her desk. “You’d already done all the hard work of softening him up. All Kristoff and I had left was to work out the details of exactly what and how much. Oh, by the way,” he added as the thought occurred to him, “those extras that Lieutenant Kristoff wanted? Those are some cool toys.”
“Really. Cool how?”
“From the descriptions she gave Sellenberg, one of them sounds like a cross between radar and a laser,” the exec enthused. “Apparently you can get exactly the same kind of information from it that you can get from a sweep, but the beam can be dialed down to stylus
thin — maybe less than that. Someone on the other end wouldn’t even know they’d been tagged unless it hit them directly in one of their own sensors.”
Sydney’s eyebrows rose. “That does sound useful, at that. I take it the cost was reasonable?”
“Little more than pocket change,” Garvey assured her. “Basically, what Kristoff needed was components; she’s going to fabricate the thing herself from the journal specs, then tinker around with it to make it work with our systems. The investment will be more in time than money.”
“Good.” The captain nodded. “Should put us at least one up on whatever the local pirates have, then.”
“I would say so.”
“How about the rest of the negotiations? I hope you didn’t give away the store.”
“Wasn’t necessary.” Garvey’s grin returned. “Once we got going Sellenberg actually got excited about being prime to supplier to the ship that’s finally going to take a stand against the pirates. Seems his shipping gets hit pretty hard and he’s been itching to have something done about it.”
Sydney frowned. “Pirates are that bad here?”
“Not here, here, Captain, no,” the XO said, his face echoing Sydney’s frown. “That’s the odd thing. His ships only get hit when they get to Cyg-A, and those strikes are all by the Cyg-A group. Seems that bunch of pirates think they own the place.”
“Huh.” Sydney snorted in disgust. “Not surprising. Hans Vattermann believes that he does own whatever he sees, wherever it is.”
Garvey was silent a moment as he digested the vehemence of Sydney’s remark. “Captain?”
Sydney heaved a sigh. “Sorry. The fact is, I share an unfortunate history with the boss of the Cyg-A pirate group. The bastard used to be TSM. He was caught with his fingers — hell, his whole arm — in the cookie jar, on my watch, and didn’t take it well when a court martial liked my story better than his.” She shook her head at the memory. “I doubt that he has grown a sense of honor since then. He never did have a sense of right and wrong.”
“Oh.” Garvey watched his captain, a bit concerned at the look of distraction that settled over her as she seemed to lose herself in her memories of Hans Vattermann. He waited a few moments for her to re-surface into the present, then decided to risk distracting her.
“Ah, Captain?”
“Hmm?” It was a moment more before Sydney refocused on her XO. “Sorry, what?”
“Should we get underway on that picketing tour you mentioned?”
“Ah.” Her head shook slightly, almost a shiver more than a conscious movement. “Yes, of course. Navigation already has the course, XO. Get us underway at your convenience.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Garvey hesitated another moment before leaving, eyeing his commanding officer with some concern — he’d not seen her this way before, moody, distracted by events from her past. It didn’t worry him exactly, but made him wonder just what could have happened at a court martial to still weigh on her so long after the fact.
As for the captain, she hardly noticed when her exec finally left. Her thoughts were far away, watching again that very courtroom confrontation.
3
Eight Years Before
Sydney Chambers had witnessed courts martial before, of course; courtroom procedure was a required course when a cadet was on command track at TSM Academy. She had not, however, played the role of star witness before. Commander Sean Coffmann, the JAG officer prosecuting the case, had gone twice over her testimony with her; she had a firm grip on both the facts and the justice of what she would say. Regardless, she found herself uneasy when Coffmann approached her as she sat in the witness chair.
“Lieutenant,” Coffman said. Sydney felt a brief thrill at the address; her promotion from ensign had come so recently the trial was essentially the first public appearance of her new rank. Slightly annoyed with her reaction she ground her teeth together for an instant before answering.
“Yes, sir.”
“Please describe for the court the exact process which led to your first discovering the discrepancy.” Coffmann’s words were identical to those he had used in their practice sessions.
“Sir.” Sydney drew a breath, steeling herself before launching into their scripted narrative. “I was auditing paperwork on a delivery of specialized parts. Captain Vattermann had informed me that I shouldn’t bother myself with it, but since it was a part of strict routine to perform the audits I felt that it was my responsibility to do so.”
“Did Captain Vattermann order you directly to not perform this part of your duty?”
“No, sir.” This was a touchy matter; Sydney knew that she had to use exactly the correct words for the testimony to be effective, in the same way the question had been carefully crafted to infer culpability on the part of the accused. “Captain Vattermann suggested that he already knew what the audit would show, and therefore was willing to overlook a small breach of routine in the matter.”
“Did the captain indicate how he was aware of what the audit would show?”
“No, sir.”
“So you decided to ignore his suggestion and do the audit anyway.”
“Sir.” Here was the crux of the matter. “I was duty bound to ignore any such suggestion, as I was obligated by higher authority to always perform the audits.”
Coffmann gave Sydney an encouraging, if fleeting, smile, then turned so he could look directly at Vattermann before asking the next question. “Lieutenant, would you please define what you mean when you say, ‘higher authority’.”
“Yes, sir.” She took a moment to compose herself. “I had been visited by a representative of the Office of the Auditor General, six months before the incident in question. At that time I was informed that I would be placed on temporary duty as an Audit Officer in Supply Division.”
“I gather that this was not a normal posting for someone on a Command track, as you were?”
“No, sir.”
“Who was it that informed you of this assignment, Lieutenant?”
“The officer showed me credentials that identified her as Lieutenant Commander Viola Stricklin.”
Coffmann nodded, then retrieved a document from the prosecution’s desk and presented it to the court’s presiding officer, Commodore Hugh Georges. “Let the record show that Lieutenant Commander Viola Stricklin is in fact a case inspector for the Office of the Auditor General.”
The judge studied the document a moment, then nodded. “So noted.”
Coffmann turned his attention back to Sydney. “What orders did Commander Stricklin give you, Lieutenant?”
“I was not given orders as such,” Sydney replied carefully. “I was, of course, not in Commander Stricklin’s chain of command. While her authority under the Auditor General was fairly broad, it did not grant her authority to issue me orders in regard to my specific job function.”
“All right,” Coffmann agreed. “How, then, did Commander Stricklin explain your ‘temporary’ re-assignment to Supply?”
Sydney took a moment before answering. “The commander indicated that the Auditor General was actively investigation a series of shortages. She further indicated that, since I had minored in accounting at the Academy, I might be able to provide some insight into the situation.”
“Did the commander have a suggestion as to what specifically you could do about the shortages?”
“Not a suggestion,” Sydney answered slowly, “no, sir.”
Coffmann frowned theatrically, turning again to stare at defendant Vattermann. “I’m confused, Lieutenant. Commander Stricklin was unable to give you direct orders in regard to your assignment, yet neither did she have suggestions for you. What then did Commander Stricklin say to you in regard to your duties?”
“Commander Stricklin reminded me that, under regulations included in several articles of both the Code of Officer Conduct and the Code of Military Justice, failure to complete a required duty is a court martial offense.”
“Was performin
g the audit in question a duty required of you as Audit Officer?”
“It was.”
“It is therefore your contention,” the prosecutor said, “that the ‘higher authority’ compelling you to perform the audit was not a person, or persons, but the Code of Officer Conduct, the Code of Military Justice, and the specific duties of the position you held at the time.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I see.” Coffmann raked his gaze over the panel of jurors, then turned a look of innocent curiosity toward his witness. “So, you performed the audit in spite of Captain Vattermann indicating that you should not.”
“Yes, sir.” She paused for a breath, then added, “The audit was a part of my normal duties. Since Captain Vattermann did not specifically order me not to, I performed the audit.”
Coffmann nodded then crossed once more to his desk, where he picked up another document and studied it. There was a minute of silence before he turned back to Sydney.
“What was the purpose of the audit, Lieutenant? What is the purpose of any audit?”
“I can only speak to audits conducted in Supply Division, sir,” Sydney said carefully, “since that is where I was tasked with performing audits.”
Coffmann glanced at the presiding officer, who nodded. “So stipulated.”
She drew a breath before beginning, relieved to be in her element once again. “Audits are conducted to determine if any discrepancies exist between bills of lading and what is actually scanned in at the dock,” Sydney said. “If a difference is found between the figures it indicates a condition of either over-supply or of shortage.”
“Were shortages known to be a problem?”
“Yes, sir. Seldom did a day pass when I did not receive bulletins regarding shortages in one commodity or another. However, most of those shortages were up-stream from us — that is, things that we ordered for re-shipment were not available. Once an item got to us it was rare for there to be a difference between lading and scanning.”
“Yet the Auditor General has begun an investigation of just that type of shortage — had, in fact, sent a representative to remind you of your duty in regard to that investigation. Do you have information as to why this was the case?”
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