“Well, uh, yes, I suppose so.” Chambers looked as though she was having difficulty breathing. “As I testified, I had been, uh, told by Lieutenant Commander, uh, Stricklin, that the AG’s office was watching the, uh, situation.”
“Ah, yes, Commander Stricklin.” Wilson oiled his way across the floor to stand as close as possible to the witness before continuing. “You knew full well that she was the lead investigator for criminal matters for the Auditor General, didn’t you?”
Chambers squirmed even more. “Ye — I mean, no, I didn’t know that at the time. I only found out later, after the captain was arrested.”
“You had to have known!” Wilson didn’t shout the words so much as hammer them into the witness, each word visibly impacting Chambers as though a physical blow. “You’re an Academy graduate on a command track, and here they were assigning you to do audits. It had to have crossed your mind that something more was involved than an exercise in cross-training.”
“I wasn’t asked to spy.” Vattermann almost smirked as he caught the brief spark of defiance that flared on Chambers face. What do you know, he thought. The worm has a spine after all.
“Not in so many words, I’m sure,” Wilson almost purred. “But Commander Stricklin did instruct you to find everything you possibly could that would discredit Captain Vattermann, didn’t she?”
“She, uh — what?” It seemed to take Chambers a moment before she understood the question. “No! She didn’t say that. She didn’t say anything like that.”
“I see.” Wilson turned knowing eyes to the officers empaneled as jury in the case, and smiled. “I see. The Commander merely patted you on the head and told you to be a good little command-track auditor.”
“I — she — ah,” Chambers stuttered, beginning to flounder as she tried to keep all her lies in order. “Commander Stricklin merely reminded me that the captain was the final authority for everything that happened at Supply Three-Zulu-seven-two-two, and would have to have been aware of everything that happened under his command. Then she, ah, asked me if I would be able to follow the numbers from my audits wherever they took me. Even if they took me directly into Captain Vattermann’s office.”
“In other words,” Wilson said, his oily voice now oozing compassion, “you were instructed to focus on whatever numbers would lead to Captain Vattermann.”
“Ye — no!” Chambers was completely flustered at this point. “Commander Stricklin never said to focus on anything but doing a good audit! She never said that Captain Vattermann was the only person that the AG was looking at. Never! She only said —” Chambers suddenly broke off, biting her lip as though realizing that she’d said too much.
Wilson turned back toward Chambers — indeed, all eyes in the courtroom were pinned on the lieutenant as she tried to wriggle her way out of the mistake she’d just made. She apparently noticed this as she glanced around room for a moment; a sheen of sweat broke out on her face, visible even across the floor at the defendant’s table where Vattermann sat, glaring at her. Chambers mouth opened and shut a few times, giving her the demeanor of a fish gasping for breath while out of the water. Wilson let her stew for a long moment before asking, “What was that, lieutenant? Please finish your sentence. The court is waiting to hear just what it was that Lieutenant Commander Stricklin told you about Captain Vattermann.”
Chambers snapped her mouth shut, breathing deeply through her nose in a clear attempt to regain some composure before answering. “She —” the witness began, then broke off again and swallowed, hard. When she finally spoke again, it was in a bare whisper. “The commander only said that Captain Vattermann was the most likely suspect.”
“So.” Wilson abandoned the witness to her misery, turning instead to face the jury box, walking over to pace in front of the members. “Commander Stricklin clearly had her mind already made up, and proceeded to coach you on what to look for in the audits she wanted you to perform. Audits which, as you testified —” and the defense counsel swung once again toward Chambers, pinning her with a look, “ — Captain Vattermann specifically told you not to perform.”
“No! Captain Vattermann didn’t order me not to do the audits, he only said that I didn’t have to!” Chambers had begun to cry now; Hans felt a warm glow spread through him as his accuser began the inexorable breakdown that was her due. His smile broadened as she continued, “And Commander Stricklin didn’t tell me what to look for. That is, she told me the kind of things that I would probably find, but she never said that I was supposed to find something that would incriminate the captain.”
“Ah!” Wilson seemed delighted at both the witness’ tears and her statement. “So now you’re telling us that finding evidence to damn Captain Vattermann was all your idea. Is that the case, lieutenant? You had a grudge against Captain Vattermann, and decided to do your best to find something, anything, that you could use against him?”
“No!” Chambers was full-on bawling now. “I wasn’t trying to find evidence against anyone in particular. I just —”
“You what?” Wilson’s voice cut Chambers off like the crack of a whip. “You just conveniently didn’t bother to turn up even a shred of evidence against any one of the hundreds of other people working at Supply Three-Zulu-seven-two-two? You didn’t look at any of them even once? Despite the fact that each and every one of those other workers had more contact with the material, and therefore more opportunity to make things disappear than did Captain Vattermann. It never even occurred to you that the low-paid enlisted personnel who have literally all the contact with what comes and goes from a supply base might have a lot more motive to want to siphon off some of those goods for their use, than an honored and respected officer like Captain Vattermann?”
“No,” Chambers sobbed.
“Tell us the whole truth, lieutenant,” Wilson pressed, now leaning on the arm of the witness box so his face was only inches from the sobbing woman. “This is what your entire mission came down to, wasn’t it? To sully the record of a good and decent man. To destroy the career of the highly respected officer who was your superior, while letting a myriad of low-ranking thieves skate by. Wasn’t that why your audit reported as it did, Lieutenant Chambers? Wasn’t it? Wasn’t it? ...”
3
Present Day
Gunnar Schultz knocked firmly on Hans Vattermann’s office door then waited a few seconds before opening it, as Vattermann’s receptionist, Velma Ratzinger, had recommended. The wisdom that sprang from Ratzinger’s experience was immediately obvious as Schultz found the Cyg-A pirate boss just swinging around to face the office doors, his eyes still glazed from whatever dream or fantasy the ex-TSM officer had been indulging in.
“Ah, Kommandant …” the ship captain began, his voice far more tentative than he had hoped.
“WHAT,” Vattermann bellowed, then huffed slightly as he recognized his flag captain. “Ach, Schultz,” he continued after a moment. “You had better come bearing good news this time.”
“I do, Kommandant,” Schultz reported, managing to remove the quaver from his voice now that he was on firmer ground. “Two pieces of good news, in fact.”
Vattermann’s face didn’t brighten at the announcement but his scowl did lessen. “Go on.”
“Ah....” Schultz took a moment to cross the office before continuing, coming to an adequate parade rest a couple of feet from the huge desk that Vattermann still managed to dominate. “Sir. The cargo you wanted has been secured. The trip proved all the sweeter when the ship carrying that cargo turned out to be the Arega System Pride. That’s —”
“The one you were about to haul down when that bitch interfered,” Vattermann said, cutting the captain off with a growl. “I presume you took the opportunity to display our displeasure with the company they chose to keep.”
Schultz worked hard to suppress a grin. “That I did,” he said.
Vattermann stared at his flag captain for a long moment, then allowed a sneer to twist his lips. “Good,” he said, drawing the w
ord out in a tone that dripped with satisfaction. “Although I suppose there will be some push-back from Arega. Be sure you meet with Holzig to appraise him of the details and come up with a response or two for those capitalist dogs.”
“Of course.”
The Kommandant was silent a moment while various violent emotions flashed across his features. Finally he raised questioning eyes to Schultz once more. “The other news?”
“Right.” Schultz took a breath before continuing. “We had just secured for return to base when a runner popped into the system, bringing an answer to your proposal to O’Shaugnassey.”
Now Vattermann’s eyes did brighten. “I presume this runner bore a positive response?”
“To be honest, Kommandant, it wasn’t all that positive,” the captain hedged, “but it was affirmative. O’Shaugnassey has agreed to meet, but he refused to come here. He demands a neutral site. In fact, he suggested specific coordinates in the outer reaches of Cyg-C.”
Vattermann snorted. “So the man isn’t as soft as I’d thought. That kind of demand makes me think he might actually own a set of balls.”
Not thinking a comment to be wise, Schultz merely nodded.
“So. It is inconvenient, but not overly so if we get the result that we want.” The Kommandant considered the matter. “You and Holzig send the runner back out our with our acceptance of the meeting spot. Send a list of dates and times for O’Shaugnassey to pick from — some time pretty soon, too. I want to have this all worked out before that bitch has enough time to get herself organized.”
“We’ll only offer dates within the next two weeks, then.”
“And tell the runner to push for sooner than later,” Vattermann hissed, then smiled darkly. “It’s going to be soon, Schultz, very soon. Enough of this raiding and hiding, especially if O’Shaugnassey gets on board. We’ll simply take control of the whole verdammt system.”
“And take control of O’Shaugnassey as well?”
Vattermann blinked at the question even as his smile widened. “Of course. We can’t have Irish trash involved in running a star system, now, can we?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
1
Sydney looked up in response to a sharp knock on her office door to find her first officer there, an expression of curiosity in his eyes. “We’re fully docked, Captain. You wanted to see me?”
“Come in, XO,” she answered, sitting back in her chair and waving at her exec. “Close the door and have a seat.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” There was a minute as Garvey accomplished those tasks before he faced his captain across her desk.
“You have something in mind,” he ventured.
“Is it fair to say,” Sydney began in a slow, thoughtful, tone, “that we have at least a few crew members aboard who would not be averse to a good pub crawl while we’re in dock?”
The commander blinked once. “A pub crawl, Captain?”
Sydney gave her exec a sly smile. “I’m sure you remember what that is, XO, even if it’s been a while since either you or I had the liberty to engage in one.”
Garvey grinned uncomfortably. “I do have vague memories of experiencing something like that,” he said, his face coloring slightly at the admission. “Back in my Academy days, if I recall correctly.”
“I’m sure that you do.” The captain’s smile momentarily reflected her subordinate’s discomfort. “But about the crew....”
The XO frowned for a moment. “I suspect that one or two ... or a few ... crew members could be, ah, persuaded to join in such an expedition, Captain.” He cocked his head at Sydney like a curious puppy. “I guess I’m wondering more just why we should be discussing such a thing?”
Sydney was silent for a minute, then heaved a deep sigh. “You and I spoke a while ago about how ... genteel pirates don’t make much sense, in light of the TSM orders under which we sailed.”
Garvey nodded thoughtfully. “We did.”
“I’ve spent the last hour doing some research into our pirate friends here at Cyg-B,” she said, still speaking in a slow, thoughtful way. “Or maybe it’s better to say, research into the conditions in the Cyg-B system that may have led to piracy becoming a way of life.
“From what I’ve been able to find, most of 16 Cygni-B is controlled, if not outright owned, by a handful of big corporations. Not all that unusual in frontier systems such as Cygni, of course.”
“It’s pretty standard, as I understand history.”
“It is,” Sydney said, nodding in agreement. “Still, while it always seems to develop, it always seems to raise problems, as well. More often than not there have been allegations of slavery involved with these pioneer corporations. None of the allegations have ever withstood judicial scrutiny, of course; the company lawyers have always managed to dredge up valid labor contracts and unimpeachable records of humane treatment when dragged into court.”
“Huh,” Garvey grunted when Sydney paused. “I do remember reading about those trials at the Academy, too. Weren’t the judges all corporate employees as well?”
“Employees, or otherwise tied to the corporations, yes,” the captain acknowledged. “But the thing that makes this little history lesson relevant here, XO, is the fact that in almost every one of these cases, there was also piracy happening in the background. Piracy intensified when the corporations were found innocent.”
Garvey frowned. “There aren’t any allegations of slavery here at 16 Cygni.”
Sydney shook her head. “Not open allegations, no. But during my little talk with Manager Rudolph, back on Outpost Station, he described the head pirate here at Cyg-B as being a sort of ‘Robin Hood,’ robbing from the rich to give to the poor.” She pinned her exec with a gaze. “That would seem to imply that there is an oppressed and impoverished population in this system who need a Robin Hood, wouldn’t it?”
“That does seem to be a reasonable take-away, yes.”
“So.” Sydney pushed a PDA across the desk, nodding for Garvey to take it. “On that is a set of orders that I need executed over the next week. To accomplish these orders you’re going to need to put together list of crew members for some planet-side R and R.” The captain paused a moment to allow her exec to begin to assemble the pieces of what she was getting at. “We’re not actually going to give these folks vacation time, though, even though the trip will be logged as recreational. In reality, they are going to be pub crawling on official duty. I’m sure you can make the paperwork we present planet-side match up.”
Garvey grinned easily this time. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Now the hard part, XO.”
Garvey looked up from the PDA. “Ma’am?”
“You are the designated driver.”
Garvey opened his mouth, shut it again, then sat in thoughtful silence for a moment. “You want me to check out conditions in the local population, while the boys and girls on this list go get drunk.”
“That’s what it needs to look like,” Sydney concurred, “although I expect everyone who goes with you to have a full round of detox treatments before you leave — and to be fully briefed on what’s up. I want reports from everyone.
“Now a couple of details. First, you won’t need a particularly large group; no more than will comfortably fit in a shuttle. I want you to hand-choose men and women who can seem to be on a drunken pub crawl and still make keen observations about what they see. How the locals talk. How they behave. Do they seem happy with their lives, or are they cursing Simon Legree?”
“Got it.”
“Second,” Sydney continued, “there’s a list on that tablet of specific things that I need to know. Things that raised questions in my mind when they turned up in the research. See how many answers you can come up with — and feel free to raise additional questions based on your own observations.”
Garvey’s smile was rueful. “Sounds like a fun vacation.”
“One final thing. Take Saands and some of his Marines along — Marines need R and R just as much as anyone els
e. I’ve already informed Lieutenant Briscoe of the detail.”
That one made the exec frown. “Bodyguards?”
“Exactly, though Saands is tasked with choosing people who won’t look like bodyguards and will report their impressions to me as well.” The captain grimaced. “We need to be prepared but we don’t need to alienate anyone unnecessarily. They’re to keep their eyes open and their defenses at the ready but otherwise behave like any other sailor on leave. If the local bosses figure out what we’re up to they will not be happy.”
“Understood,” Garvey said, then frowned as a thought crossed his mind. “There is one thing that confuses me, though, Captain. On our last trip down there was no sign of any of what you’re talking about. Everything looked peaceful, happy, and prosperous.”
“Ah,” Sydney said. “About that. I neglected to mention that your little trip isn’t to B-3, like last time. This time you’re heading for the mining settlements on B-2.”
2
The largest of Morrigan’s shuttles, informally dubbed Muirrean by the ship’s crack maintenance team, swooped low over what was supposedly Cyg-B-2’s largest city. Commander Steve Garvey took a moment from his piloting duties to peer down on the pitiful collection of ramshackle buildings as they swept beneath the speeding craft, shaking his head in growing disgust at the sight.
“Doesn’t look like a fit place to house animals, let alone ‘valued workers’ and their families,” he muttered, mostly to himself.
“No, sir, I’d have to agree with you on that one.” The tone in Marine Sergeant Morrie Saands’ voice left little doubt that he’d noticed the desolation as well. “I can’t recall having seen worse, though I must admit that I’ve seen places that are little better.”
“Pitiful.” When Garvey pulled his eyes away from the viewports the revulsion he felt showed clear on his face. “It becomes clearer why the mining operations here are so profitable, at least to the corporation.”
Sydney Chambers Page 12