‘Oh, hey, you found something!’ He exclaimed. Then he realised that nobody else was cheering. As he looked up, in fact, he could see that they were all looking stunned. Alex himself had his stone-faced look. He gave Mako a glance and brief gesture with one hand that requested, politely but definitely, that he keep quiet.
Mako felt that he was bursting with questions but this clearly was not a good time to ask them. So he did as he was asked and kept quiet, though looking rapidly between the skipper and what he could see going on aboard the shuttle. Buzz Burroughs was looking very thoughtful and nobody seemed to be speaking or even moving much. All of them were staring at screens or looking at the Exec, a question on their faces.
‘Well, that’s unexpected,’ the Exec said eventually, his manner reassuringly mild. ‘Permission to proceed with forensics, sir?’
‘Granted,’ said Alex, and after a moment to think, touched the PA. ‘Attention on deck,’ he said, his own manner composed. ‘A cargo container has been located at the search coordinates and is under investigation. Stand ready.’
There did not seem to be anything further that needed to be said at that point, or perhaps not even anything further that could be said. The crew had gone very quiet. After a minute or so watching the shuttle edging cautiously towards the container, however, the skipper seemed to realise that their passenger was the only one on the ship who didn’t understand what was happening.
‘We need to establish whether the container is full or just being used as a cache storing a few crates,’ he told Mako. ‘It may be just a few crates of drugs or weapons, or a container load of uncustomed cargo.’
Mako nodded. This, he realised, was serious.
How serious, began to be apparent about a quarter of an hour later. There was an airlock hatch in the door end of the container. The shuttle team investigated it first with a remote-controlled robo-probe. It was like a giant long legged spider, touching needle thin probes and pad-like sensors to the airlock and the area around it. One of those sensors was a pulse-sensor device. When it showed that the container was full of solid material, the tension level on the corvette went up considerably.
It was, in fact, apparent even to Mako that the container was stacked full of crates. From the comprehensible part of the conversation between Buzz Burroughs and the skipper, Mako understood that the substance in the crates was reading as a compacted powder. At that news, you could have heard a beetle cough aboard the corvette.
‘Estimated mass,’ Buzz reported, very calmly indeed, ‘16.72 tonnes.’ After a short but very eloquent silence, he added, without any great deal of conviction, ‘it could just be uncustomed chems.’
‘Well, there’s only one way to find out,’ Alex observed. ‘Are you satisfied that the hatch does not appear to have any trigger devices?’
‘Entirely satisfied, sir, yes.’ Buzz confirmed. ‘Request permission to dock and access container for forensics.’
‘Permission granted,’ said the skipper. Without taking his eyes off the screens for more than the briefest glance at Mako, he told the inspector, ‘It is very probably a stash of a high value chemical like tetracitrine, which is one of the most commonly smuggled ‘heavy’ cargoes. It’s used to create citrus flavours in food and drink production and is a very highly taxed import. It may even be cindar.’
That was one of the most popular coffee additives, though only real coffeeholics like Mako were prepared to pay for organic cindar grown on Flancer. It wasn’t cheap, retailing at more than ten dollars even for a twenty gramme shaker, but you only needed a very little of it to give an enriching, slightly spiced kick to coffee.
This, however, was neither tetracitrine nor cindar, nor any of the other high-tax cargoes that smugglers tried to slip past customs. It took the alpha team some time to get into the hatch, which was sealed by a ferocious security lock. They could have popped it in seconds using explosives, but they were taking great care not to cause any damage. They got through the lock, instead, by attaching a device to it, which Mako was asked not to take too much interest in, though it evidently forced the lock to decrypt itself and come open.
When the airlock was open, they were faced with a solid wall of crates. There were a hundred and twenty eight of them, stacked four across, four high and eight deep. Attaching grav-grips onto a crate, the team were able to pull it onto the shuttle. It was very similar to the kind of crates Mako had seen in the Minnow’s own hold, a cuboid a little more than two metres square and three deep. It was locked, too, but succumbed quickly to the lock-overriding device. Its front slid around to one side, revealing that it was full of plastic-sealed white stuff, compacted solid. The forensics tech on the team inserted a micro-probe and everyone held their breath.
‘Sir,’ she said, showing Buzz the results with a rather unsteady hand. ‘It’s DPC.’
Mako heard Alex von Strada catch his breath before the skipper’s breathing recommenced, slow and controlled.
‘All of it?’ Even Buzz sounded a little shaken, with that.
‘All this crate, yes sir. Consistent reading,’ the forensic tech confirmed. ‘And sir? It’s pure,’ she looked at the crate with awe on her face. ‘Sir, we’ve found a motherload.’
There were just a few seconds while Buzz Burroughs considered that, gazing at the crate. Mako still did not understand even then. Though he gasped at the realisation that the crate was full of the powder used to make many illegal drugs, he was still thinking in terms of it being just that one crate. Even that would be a tremendous haul. He was aware that Customs and Excise had blazed a great fanfare some few years before when they’d intercepted a drug shipment of more than fifty kilos of DPC, diacetyl-pethyl-camide, and there had to be more than twice that in the crate.
A hundred and thirty kilos, in fact, as Buzz reported to the skipper.
‘All right,’ Alex said, coolly. ‘Best get to work documenting it, then.’
Buzz broke into a grin, regarding the young skipper through the comlink. ‘That’s it?’ he queried. ‘That’s all you’re going to say?’
Alex gave a little grin, and for the first time Mako noticed that his eyes were sparkling with contained emotion.
‘We can yell and laugh manically later,’ he told his exec. ‘For right now, we need to keep a professional focus. And as quickly as you can, please, Buzz. For all we know, they may turn up at any moment.’
That certainly focussed everyone, Mako noticed, with an immediate acknowledgement from the Exec. Activity became rapid and purposeful as the Exec instructed them to get a tether on the crate so they could get it out of the way. On the corvette, Alex von Strada permitted himself one quick grin as he addressed his crew.
‘Attention on deck,’ he said, though the ship was already at a breathless hush. ‘The first crate investigated contains 0.13 tonnes of pure grade DPC. It appears that we may have struck a motherload.’
As an immediate roar began to erupt, he silenced it with a bip on the PA and an emphatic command. ‘Silent running!’ As he was instantly obeyed, he continued with a warning note, ‘Remember, we have a team down there. We have to proceed on the basis that the retrieval ship may appear at any time. Stay focussed, people!’
He was obeyed in this too, as his crew evidently recognised that he was right and the ship returned to an air of watchful alertness.
‘Well, Mr Ireson,’ said the skipper, looking at him then, ‘it seems our patrol is going to be rather more eventful than any of us envisaged. We will need to confirm it, of course, with forensics, but if the other crates contain the same quantity and quality of DPC as the first, we may have a very significant find, here.’
Mako nodded. To describe more than sixteen tonnes of pure grade DPC as ‘a very significant find’ was, he felt, a strong contender for understatement of the century. He could hardly breathe as the sheer scale of it sank in.
‘How…’ Finding his voice rather squeaky, he paused for a moment to compose himself and continued with studied calm, ‘How much is that lot
worth?’
‘If it is all pure DPC?’ Alex considered. ‘Street value, processed into high grade Float or Rainbow? Well, the rule of thumb according to Customs is to multiply pure DPC by four to get street quantities of Float, Rainbow or the other DPC variants. And the latest advisory from them is to estimate street value of Float at between forty five and fifty five dollars a 2g capsule, roughly twenty six thousand dollars a kilo. Which would make it about 3.4 million per crate.’
Mako multiplied 128 by 3.4, in his head. Then he did it again because he hadn’t believed his first answer.
‘That’s more than four hundred million,’ he said, numbly. ‘Four hundred million.’
Alex nodded. ‘Street value,’ he said. ‘Raw value, you’re probably looking at sixty to seventy million.’
He contemplated the images on the visual feed. Buzz Burroughs had depressurised the shuttle before they opened up the container, and they had now moved back from it, far enough to be able to manipulate the crate out of their airlock. Two of the team were in hullwalker rig. They were preparing to exit the shuttle to take the crate out of the way and tether it to the outer surface of the container. ‘But we need to confirm, of course,’ said Alex, ‘that it is all DPC.’
Mako made no comment on that, since that was entirely obvious, but he asked the question that none of the crew could ask.
‘And what then?’ he queried.
Alex shot him a glance full of intense amusement.
‘I haven’t,’ he told him, ‘decided yet.’
There was just something in his tone that discouraged further questions, so Mako didn’t press the matter. As he watched the forensic procedure, though, he tried to work out for himself what the alternatives were. It seemed unlikely that they would be able to take all the drugs on board the Minnow, and they were obviously not just going to leave them here to be collected. Remembering how briskly they’d disposed of the abandoned starseeker, Mako felt he could make a good guess at how they would deal with the drugs. They only had a couple of weeks scheduled for patrol in the Pagolis before they were due to be heading back to Chartsey, so it seemed most likely to him that they would destroy the drugs. Then he guessed they’d stay for the duration of their patrol and if no ship had turned up by then, head back to make their report. Even if they weren’t able to catch the ship coming in to pick up the drugs, after all, it was still one heck of a find.
And it was, indeed, all DPC. It took more than an hour and a half to confirm that, a period in which nobody talked much and everyone was keeping an eye on long-range scopes. They soon had a system going at the container. Once they’d taken four crates out and confirmed that all of them contained DPC, they went into the container itself, working methodically through the remaining hundred and twenty four crates. It reminded Mako of the kind of puzzles in which squares had to be shuffled about in order to make a picture. The hullwalkers were the ones shunting crates about, working their way back through the container with another member of the team opening up the locks, the forensic tech taking readings and samples, and Buzz staying on top of the paperwork.
Before long, as it became apparent that crate after crate contained the same quantity and quality of DPC, it would have been more surprising if the rest of them didn’t. As the spacers had evidently realised the moment they found that the crate right next to the airlock was full of drugs, if that one was, chances were that the rest were too.
There was little doubt that it was from Dortmell either. Quite apart from the fact that there were few worlds in the League where such quantities of pure pharmaceutical grade DPC might be manufactured, the crates themselves carried the stamp of Pharmand, a major drugs production company on Dortmell. Nobody commented on that, though; it was as if it were so expected that it didn’t merit the slightest surprise.
People were, he noticed, keeping one eye on scopes and the other on the skipper, glancing often at him. He seemed oblivious to their watchful manner. His own manner was thoughtful as he watched the forensics, long-range scopes and routine watch screens. It was apparent, however, as the forensic search came to an end, that he had made his mind up, now, about what he was going to do. As the snatch team were coming to the end of their search, he gave orders that all was to be put back and sealed as it had been.
This, Mako sensed, was a crucial decision. Judging from the silence that followed it and the eyes that turned to him, it was not really the decision the crew had been expecting. Nobody said anything, though. Buzz, after a moment, just said, ‘Yes sir,’ and his team, though exchanging eloquent looks, made no comment either.
‘Are you not going to blow it up then?’ Mako asked, figuring this out from the care with which the snatch team were restoring things just the way they’d found them.
‘Not unless I have to, no.’ Alex said, but without looking up, all his focus on bringing his team safely back to the ship.
When they did get back, he allowed the crew to cheer the team back aboard, but there was no relaxing, no order enabling them to take off their suits. Instead, he called all officers to the command deck for an operational briefing.
‘I intend to take us in,’ he informed them, when the officers were gathered around the datatable with a holographic chart of the system on display, ‘by this route,’ He indicated a thin wavering line which corkscrewed down almost directly on top of the star, ‘into tight stellar orbit.’
That was shown on the chart too and all the officers looked intently at it. ‘We will then,’ said the skipper, ‘sit and wait it out.’ He looked around at them. Buzz was looking mildly amused, Martine Fishe concerned, Morry Morelle impressed, and Dan Tarrance frankly thrilled. Rangi Tekawa, an officer only by courtesy, just looked interested.
Mako, who was not an officer at all, felt uncomfortable even being at the table. He had offered to get up and leave when the briefing was summoned, but Alex had told him, ‘No, you’re all right, there.’ None of the officers seemed to mind his presence, either, Dan and Morry hovering either side of him.
‘Any questions?’ The skipper enquired, and obviously did not mean to include Mako, in that.
‘Sir…’ Martine Fishe looked at Buzz, but seeing the placid smile on his face, looked back at the skipper, concern clear on her face. ‘Sir, if it’s too big for us…’
Alex looked back at her, his gaze steadfast and his manner reassuring.
‘I will not,’ he said, ‘break protocol on that, Lt. But nor will I just let this go. There’s enough death and misery in that container to wreck thousands of lives. If it is humanly possible to bring the people responsible for that to justice, then I am going to do so, all right?’
‘Yes sir,’ she said, and gave him a nod, with that, as if only having to be assured that he would not be carried away into some wild enterprise. ‘With you all the way,’ she affirmed, for which he gave her a slight answering nod.
‘Mr Tarrance,’ he looked at the Sub, who was almost bursting with excitement, ‘I’m afraid Zeus might have to wait for you a while.’
Dan Tarrance burst out laughing. The Admiralty had agreed to extend his assignment to the Minnow for the duration of this patrol. They’d accepted his application to stay on the corvette for the invaluable professional experience it would give him to be part of setting up an irregular unit, but his next assignment was already lined up and waiting for when they got back to port.
It was, obviously, to Zeus, a posting that Mako had worked out for himself was political. Captain Urquart wanted his fair share of the extraordinarily gifted young officer and wanted to have his fair share of influence in forming him, too. It was highly likely that he would try to counteract Alex von Strada’s lamentable influence by drilling Old School thinking into the Sub-Lt as forcefully as regulations allowed. It was unlikely to be a very enjoyable experience, particularly since part of the tagged and flagged programme would require Dan Tarrance to carry out his own evaluations of Zeus and present recommendations to the captain. That, however, went with the tagged and flagged
territory. Dan would have to rise to such challenges and come out strong in order to stay on that programme and justify his rapid rise through the ranks.
‘I’m in no hurry, sir!’ He assured the skipper, as everyone else chuckled or grinned, too. All except Mako, who was slowly taking in what the skipper was saying.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Ireson,’ the skipper sounded genuinely regretful as he looked at him next. ‘It is unlikely that we will make it back to Chartsey as scheduled. Even in the best-case scenario, if a ship arrives within the next few days and if we are able to secure its surrender, best speed for any container vessel is rarely more than L14. Even if we were able to escort them straight back to Chartsey, that may take five or six weeks.’
That would make them a week or two late, which wouldn’t be a problem, Mako felt, so long as they could get a message aboard a liner or courier to let people know what was happening.
‘But there is, I have to tell you,’ the skipper continued, ‘a real possibility that we may find ourselves in a stand off. It may be, you see, that the ship that comes in is too big for us to seize by boarding operations. Unless they fire on us, first, we are not allowed to fire on them, either. In those circumstances, unless we can persuade them to surrender, we may well end up not being able to do any more than follow them to their next port of call. I should warn you that big freighters, in those circumstances, have been known to head far off space lanes and make it a battle of wills, and some of those pursuits can be lengthy. It is only fair to tell you that it may be many weeks, even months, before we get back to Chartsey.’
Mako opened his mouth instinctively to protest. His first thought was for his family. If Minnow didn’t return, his wife and children would be frantic with worry. But then, as protest rose, he stifled it.
What Alex von Strada had said was absolutely true. There was enough death and misery in that container to ruin thousands, tens of thousands of lives. It wasn’t even just the lives of the addicts themselves, though that was tragic enough, in all conscience, it was the grief and heartbreak of their families and all the victims of crimes of desperation, too. Addicts were driven to get money any way they could, desperate for that next hit, the superhuman high that drugs like Float and Rainbow offered. The DPC in that container represented about seventy tons of such drugs hitting the streets. Alex was right – if it was humanly possible to bring the people responsible for that to justice, it was their duty to do so even if it was inconvenient, even if it was hard. As a prisons inspector, he had a duty to uphold law enforcement, too. It had also been clear that the six weeks they’d been scheduled to be out on patrol was subject to the needs of the service, with no guaranteed return date. So he swallowed his protest and nodded, saying nothing because he recognised there was nothing to be said.
Mission Zero (Fourth Fleet Irregulars) Page 23