Death's Bright Day

by David Drake

  She felt her lips quirk. “Indeed, I may just kill you myself.”

  Robin’s eyes drifted toward the bodies, then returned to meet Adele’s. He smiled back. “I wouldn’t care to have that happen,” he said. “What do you want me to do to avoid it?”

  He may be buying time, hoping to kill me or us, Adele thought. But I don’t think so, and I don’t think he could plan it without my becoming aware of it.

  “You can appoint Daniel as commander of the Navy of the Tarbell Stars,” Adele said. “After that, give him the resources and support he would have if you had no concern at all about him wanting to remain in the cluster after the Upholders have been defeated.”

  She shrugged and added, “That’s the truth and I hope you believe it. You don’t have to believe it, though, so long as you believe that I’ll kill you if you don’t do as I direct.”

  “I do believe you, Lady Mundy,” Robin said. “If you care to call Captain Leary in, I’ll make the appointment immediately. And then—”

  Adele had gotten up, but she paused on her way to the door.

  “—would you mind if I had these bodies removed and disposed of? I assure you, I don’t need so vivid a memento mori.”

  “Yes, I don’t need them any more,” Adele said. She opened the door to the outer office.

  The whole business had been quite unplanned, of course, but it had been even more useful than Daniel’s test of how well the Nabies reacted to an emergency recall.

  “Captain Leary?” she called past the backs of Dasi and Barnes who were blocking the doorway from the other direction. “Will you come in, please?”

  As the bosun’s mates made way for Daniel, Adele walked over to the first shooter’s pistol and picked it up. It was a powerful weapon, not a light pocket pistol like Adele’s own.

  She would give it to Hogg as at least a temporary replacement for his own. He would appreciate the gift.

  CHAPTER 17

  Newtown on Peltry

  Tovera, wearing a chauffeur’s uniform, opened the door of the limousine’s passenger compartment for Grozhinski. He started to get in and only then noticed that Adele was inside waiting for him. The windows were opaque from the outside.

  “Lady Mundy!” he said as the door closed behind him. “Have you been able to alert Minister Robin’s guards?”

  The freighter Fisher 14 had reached Peltry orbit three hours before. Its astrogation computer had immediately sent an alert to the Residency, warning that there would shortly be an attempt on Christopher Robin’s life. The immediately following message said that the Resident should arrange for Major Grozhinski to be picked up upon landing and meet Lady Mundy as soon as possible.

  “We took care of that yesterday,” Adele said. “The gunmen from Section C arrived before you did and went to work immediately. They were unsuccessful.”

  “I’m…” Grozhinski said. “Well, I’m very glad to hear that. I was afraid I would be too late. As I gather I was.”

  Tovera pulled into the space at the Residency. The top of the gatepost still lay in the yard. Adele wondered if she should call for brick masons in the Nabis Contingent and have them repair it. She had learned early in her association with the RCN that starship personnel included a wide variety of skills which had nothing to do with their normal duties.

  Adele waited until they were within the shielded Residency to say, “I gather that communication in the other direction, from me to your organization, has been delayed also. Master Mignouri has had a stroke. I’ve been acting as your Resident myself. Yesterday I delegated those duties to Midshipman Cazelet. He’s downstairs now.”

  Grozhinski stared blankly for a moment, then laughed. He seated himself at the table at the edge of the room and opened his briefcase.

  “We’ve been having a run of bad luck, haven’t we?” he said. Adele took the chair across from his. “And one piece of good luck, Lady Mundy: that you’re on hand. Which seems to have been enough. Well, this next item isn’t luck. This was a very clever move by General Krychek, and it took us by surprise.”

  The file appeared in Adele’s data unit. She forwarded it to Cazelet upstairs before she even opened it. This was 5th Bureau material—in a way, at least—and if Grozhinski had concerns about it being in the Residency database, it was his job to remove it.

  “Umm,” Adele said as she scanned the material. “Danziger is outside both the Tarbell Stars and the Alliance. How were Krychek’s agents able to embargo the missiles?”

  The missiles on which the Tarbell Stars were depending had been captured by Cinnabar—captured by Daniel himself—after the Battle above Cacique. Because they were of Alliance design and manufacture, the RCN had declared them surplus to requirements with the cessation of hostilities. Minister Forbes had arranged for their sale to the Tarbell government at the price of scrap metal.

  “Danziger is independent, yes,” Grozhinski said, “but when two Fleet investigators arrived with evidence that the missiles had been stolen from Fleet stocks, the local authorities probably didn’t see any choice but to embargo them until the matter could be adjudicated. Which might reasonably be at some time after the Upholders have succeeded in conquering the Tarbell Stars.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t say that no money changed hands from Krychek’s agents to the locals,” he said. “But it might not have been necessary.”

  “I see,” said Adele. An independent world couldn’t risk being seen as a receiver of war stocks stolen from a neighboring superpower. Cinnabar wouldn’t regard an Alliance punitive expedition to correct the situation as a breach of the Treaty of Amiens.

  The stock of top-grade missiles which Cinnabar was sending to the Tarbell Stars had permitted Robin to bypass the generation of neglect which had rotted the Tarbell Navy into a rickety joke. Freighters configured as missile ships weren’t really warships, but they would be sufficient to defeat the Upholders—and that would buy time for the Minister of War to create a real, professional navy to maintain the central government’s sovereignty against internal and external threats.

  Without the missiles, the government had no time. Adele smiled faintly. It would be very tempting to add that the government had no chance, either.

  “Very well,” Adele said, getting to her feet. “The next step is to bring the matter to Captain Leary. He’s at the dockyard, overseeing the conversion of the freighters Montclare and Montcalm into missile ships.”

  “What will Captain Leary be able to do?” Grozhinski said as he closed his briefcase and rose with her.

  “If I could answer that question…” Adele said tartly. “I wouldn’t need to talk with Daniel.”

  * * *

  Daniel stood beside Pasternak and Captain Ealing on the platform of an out-of-service crane, looking down on the refitting of the Montclare. Arc welders snarled as they attached brackets to the hull. Hogg stood far enough back that the actinic radiation was blocked by the floor of the platform; otherwise it would’ve burned holes in his retinas. The three spacers wore goggles.

  Six teams were working on the Montclare. There were four more in the next dock on the Montcalm, another fast freighter, to add to the racket.

  “The ship’s existing computer will handle missile computations easily,” Daniel said. “My people—” Cory and Chief Missileer Chazanoff “—are installing the necessary software, and the yard is adding missile stations.”

  These were flat-plate displays rather than full holographic consoles, but they were sufficient for the present purpose. The multiple alternate tracks that a warship’s console could handle were unnecessary: the two government missile ships would only be targeting the rebel heavy cruiser, deluging her with missiles which would either overwhelm the vessel—the Upholder—or drive her from the battle.

  “That’s all fine…” said Captain Ealing. “But what if they shoot back? Are you adding cannon so that we can stop incoming missiles? Right now there’s only the one gun station for pirates on each of these freighters.”

  Ealing
was the civilian captain of the Montclare whom Minister Robin had hired when he bought the ship for the Navy of the Tarbell Stars. Daniel had kept an open mind about whether he would confirm the appointment now that he had been put in command of the navy. However—

  Anyone who thought that plasma cannon could stop missiles was probably too ignorant for any naval appointment. Skillfully used, plasma bolts could nudge a missile in a direction which would not intersect with the track which the target vessel intended to follow.

  A warhead weighed over a tonne, however. Even if it were vaporized by direct hits, the tonne of vapor would continue on the plotted trajectory and do equal—if varied—damage to the target should they intersect. The trick was to vaporize divots from the warhead’s mass to thrust it out of the ship’s course.

  “We don’t have time to fit plasma cannon,” Daniel said, “or to train gunners to naval standards. The missile ships will be defended by the dedicated warships accompanying them.”

  He realized he was frowning. “Captain,” Daniel said. “This is a war and there are risks. It is my job to minimize those risks to the degree possible, and it is your job to carry out my orders promptly and to the best of your abilities.”

  A sharp Clang! punctuated the arc welders’ pervasive nastiness, followed by another and at length a third and fourth. Woetjans was on the Montclare’s hull with a bronze maul, hammering a freshly welded bracket from both directions.

  The shipyard here at Newtown didn’t have enough portable magnaflux equipment to check each weld, so the bosun was using a field expedient: if the weld didn’t crack when she slammed it with her maul, the chances were that it would survive lift-off while holding a missile. To reduce stress, the missiles wouldn’t be filled with reaction mass until the ships were out of the gravity well and were accelerating at a fixed direction and rate.

  “Captain Leary,” said the bone-conduction speaker of Daniel’s goggles. It wasn’t as good as a commo helmet, but it was better than shouting. “Lady Mundy has arrived at the base of the crane and wishes to speak with you.”

  “Roger, Signals,” Daniel said. “I’ll join you immediately in—” he thought for a moment. “In the crane house. It’s as private as you could ask and it’s insulated against sound. Six out.”

  He turned back to his companions and said, “Gentlemen, I’ve been called to an urgent matter but I was about done here anyway. I’ll be in touch with you later.”

  The lift at the back of the platform had been crowded bringing the four of them up together. Daniel didn’t offer to share it with Pasternak and Ealing going down.

  “What’s urgent?” Hogg asked, putting his right hand in his pocket.

  “I didn’t bother to ask,” Daniel said, “but I assume there’s something to bring Adele here rather than calling. Besides, I think I learned all I was going to up there.”

  I learned that I need to replace Ealing. Who his replacement should be was the tricky question.

  At the door of the operator’s cab waited Adele with a man whom Daniel had not met. The fellow wore civilian clothes, but that was the only thing civilian about him.

  Tovera came out of the building which she must have been scanning. She grinned at Hogg. The two servants remained outside while Daniel followed Adele and her companion into the cab and closed the door after them. Outside the lift was returning to the platform to pick up Pasternak and Ealing.

  The only seat in the crane house was that in front of the control panel, but there was room for six to stand without crowding. Adele said, “Daniel, this is Major Grozhinski, our contact with our employer. If you’ll sit at the display we’ll feed you the data.”

  “It won’t be resident on the dockyard system,” Grozhinski said reassuringly.

  Does he think that I worry about that? Daniel thought, smiling. He didn’t have to worry about electronic security because he had Adele. Which is good, because I probably wouldn’t worry anyway, and one of these days that could come back and bite me.

  Daniel scanned the summary paragraph. How the bloody hell did that happen?

  He grinned. That reaction was one stage better than trying to put his fist through the screen.

  He turned and stood up again. The display wasn’t the way he preferred to be briefed.

  “Adele,” Daniel said. “Master Grozhinski? Will it be possible to get the missiles released to us in time to fit them to the ships here?” He gestured vaguely toward the Montclare and Montcalm without actually turning his head.

  “No,” said Grozhinski. “They are Alliance missiles, after all. The Cinnabar government sent them to make its involvement deniable, but the Fleet investigators who demanded that the weapons be embargoed until they’re returned may not realize that their documents are forgeries. Equally, of course, they may be Krychek’s agents.”

  “All right,” Daniel said, nodding to indicate that he’d received the information. “Do either of you know of a source for missiles in quantity, even if not the three hundred Minister Forbes provided?”

  Outside, work on the freighters—which might not become missile ships after all—continued unabated. The cab’s soundproofing was good—even the double-glazed windows must damp a considerable amount of noise—but it wasn’t perfect.

  “I do not,” Grozhinski said.

  “Nor do I,” said Adele.

  Daniel smiled. It was nice to work with professionals who provided information without hedging it to uselessness. It’s a pity that the information isn’t different, though.

  “All right,” Daniel said. “Adele, can you make these freighters appear to be heavy cruisers?”

  “Electronically, yes,” Adele said. She frowned. “Visually, only to a very limited degree. It’s a matter of how good the personnel crewing the Upholder ships are. The optics themselves are of adequate quality—the three destroyers are ex-Alliance and the Upholder herself was the Triomphante, built on Karst but from Fleet service.”

  “One of the destroyers has a ex-Fleet crew and officers,” Grozhinski said, picking up seamlessly where Adele had stopped. Daniel hadn’t noticed a signal pass between them. “The crews of the other destroyers and the remainder of the Upholder forces generally are either locally raised or from Karst. I suppose they’re equivalent to the Tarbell navy. All major offices in the ground establishment are Krychek’s people.”

  Grozhinski glanced down at his data unit. It was live in his hand, but he hadn’t been referring to it and probably wasn’t now.

  “The Upholder,” he said, “is a special case. The commissioned officers are mostly ex-Fleet, though only the communications officer is 5th Bureau reporting to Krychek. The bulk of the crew has been recruited from Cinnabar’s empire, however. Most served in the Cinnabar navy during the recent war. Lady Mundy probably has better records than my organization does, but I assume they are skilled. The Upholder’s officers certainly are.”

  They’re traitors! Daniel thought. But they weren’t. They were spacers who preferred naval service to merchantmen and who, while the great powers were at peace, had found a corner of the galaxy which welcomed their skills.

  They weren’t fighting Cinnabar, and they weren’t fighting for the Alliance. They were spacers taking jobs with piss-pot rebels fighting a piss-pot government, and they probably figured that with a heavy cruiser they were going to come out the winners.

  “The rebels are offering considerable premiums to spacers with RCN experience,” Adele said. “I suppose Krychek has agents in most major ports in Cinnabar space.”

  “No doubt the pay is coming from the secret account of the First Diocese,” Grozhinski said, nodding agreement. “But without a very careful audit, there’s nothing to suggest Alliance involvement.”

  “Right,” said Daniel. “Deniability, like the missiles. But how do the recruits get to Ithaca? That’s the rebels’ capital, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” Grozhinski agreed. “Krychek’s Residency on Danziger acts as the transshipment point. The Residency gathers recruits in qua
ntity and ships them to Ithaca, where they’re distributed among the Upholder vessels.”

  Daniel smiled slowly. “We were caught by Mistress Sand’s care to be deniable,” he said. “It strikes me that we might return the favor.”

  Adele’s smile was probably invisible to anyone who didn’t know her as well as Daniel did. Grozhinski looked from one to the other. He didn’t speak.

  “Adele,” Daniel said, “what do you think about subverting the crew of a rebel heavy cruiser?”

  “I have nothing better to do with my life,” she said. The joke made her smile more noticeable. “We’ll need a neutral ship.”

  “May I offer the Fisher 14?” Grozhinski said. “The owner isn’t exactly neutral in this business, but his involvement would be as hard to trace as the First Diocese secret account.”

  They were all three smiling. We must look like a pack of dogs about to start dinner, Daniel thought; and he smiled more broadly.

  CHAPTER 18

  Elazig on Danziger

  Adele rocked both side to side and forward and back as Barnes drove them toward the 5th Bureau Residency in Elazig. The big wheels were independently sprung. On this irregular pavement, the motion was less like that of a land vehicle than of a skiff on very choppy water—the latter an experience which Adele had no wish to repeat.

  “This bloody thing has no bloody power!” Barnes snarled, his big fists gripping the steering wheel as if he were trying to strangle it. Indeed, they were proceeding at only about twenty miles an hour, but that was quite fast enough for Adele.

  “We’ll get there in plenty of time,” she said aloud. “And our business won’t take long.”

  The van was local, provided by Major Grozhinski, as was the similar vehicle carrying the backup team under Hale. She and her squad were already in position at the rear of the building; Adele hadn’t set out from the Fisher 14 until Hale had reported in.

  Daniel, Hogg and Cazelet were in back, all of them somber though for different reasons. Hogg said—muttering, though in a voice meant to be heard, “I sure wouldn’t mind going in with you. You know, my ribs still hurt where that bastard broke my gun.”