by Eric Thomson
That amused smile returned.
“I’m sure you will.” Dunmoore glanced to one side. “Is there anyone we can notify? Corporate headquarters? Family?”
“Although Kattegat Maru is incorporated, we don’t have a shore office. My mom is the chief executive officer as well as her captain. I have grandparents, but at this point, I’d rather not worry them.”
“If there’s nothing else you want to discuss, I’ll leave you to prepare for the relief crew. But should anything come up before they arrive, call us on this channel, okay? Anything at all.”
“Thank you, Captain Dunmoore. I will.”
The screen went blank, and Carrie Fennon found herself alone once more. She would prefer to keep an open link with Iolanthe until this Lieutenant Commander Cullop and her people arrived, if only for even a hint of human contact.
But that would be undignified. She was the last Fennon in Katie and therefore the owner’s legal representative.
— Five —
“Did everyone hear that?” Dunmoore asked. “Zeke, Emma?”
“Aye,” both replied simultaneously from the bridge.
Iolanthe’s combat systems officer, Thorin Sirico, and her Major of Marines, Tatiana Salminen, both of whom were at their stations in the CIC, nodded silently.
Although titled Major of Marines, Salminen was actually an Army officer from the Scandia Regiment whose company found itself drafted into the Q-ship during the Toboso incident. Fleet HQ made the assignment official shortly after that.
“Opinions?”
“There is a lot not right with this situation, Captain,” Lieutenant Commander Cullop said. “Kattegat Maru is a family ship, which means her captain’s been aboard since before she was Carrie Fennon’s age. She would have learned long ago to choose her intervals between jumps at random in interstellar space. There’s no way that pirate attack was opportunistic. Not out here and not if they appeared almost on top of Fennon’s ship. Kattegat Maru was betrayed. Either at her last port of call or by someone aboard. Those pirates tracked her. There’s no other way. And that’s just the beginning.”
“What else, Emma?”
“Not taking the ship. Okay, so Kattegat Maru is an old Skeid class transport. If she’s still sailing along the frontier, it means her captain kept her well maintained and provisioned. Why not simply put a prize crew aboard and head off into the wilds? Pirates either wreck their prey or take it with them. They don’t leave an intact ship just like that. Or at least, I’ve never heard of it happening.”
“We don’t know yet she’s intact,” Holt cautioned.
“Agreed, sir. Then there’s the matter of taking everyone off. We know there’s slave trading out beyond our and the Shrehari’s spheres of influence, but nowhere near as much as in the Coalsack sector. And why did the passengers take their belongings but not the crew? You’d think the crew would own more items of value since that ship is their home.”
Dunmoore nodded.
“That and what in cargo hold C caught the pirates’ interest? As you said, Emma. There is a lot off-kilter here.”
“What if they did it with a purpose in mind,” Salminen suggested. “Had their chief engineer not stashed the young lady in a shielded cubbyhole, someone would eventually have found Kattegat Maru abandoned but intact. And with nothing to show what happened, no one to tell the tale, and no evidence she was carrying anything more than her regular crew. If there’s no shore office to keep records, the passengers might by now be non-persons, people who vanished without a trace after being last seen at whatever port they joined Kattegat Maru.”
Lieutenant Commander Sirico emitted a low, but appreciative whistle.
“Give that soldier another commendation. I do believe she’s got it.”
“Someone trying for a Mary Celeste,” a new voice from the bridge, that of Chief Petty Officer First Class Guthren, Iolanthe’s coxswain and therefore the senior enlisted man aboard said. “Mister Devall would relish telling us about it in excruciating detail.”
Dunmoore let out an involuntary snort. Her former second officer in Stingray, and now first officer in Jan Sobieski, the frigate commanded by her then first officer, Gregor Pushkin, was an avid collector of maritime and deep space mysteries.
“Before anyone asks,” she said, “look it up. But Major Salminen is right. As is Mister Guthren. We, and by that I mean the collective Navy we, were meant to find an enigma, something more puzzling that a simple disappearance. Ships go missing every day, thanks to rogue wormholes, ion storms, enemy action, and the odd bit of piracy. If Kattegat Maru didn’t make her next scheduled port call, no one would know why. Finding her abandoned is a whole order of magnitude more perplexing.”
“Except they didn’t count on one young apprentice officer who can’t be a day over seventeen remaining aboard unbeknown to the pirates and calling for help.”
“Except for that, Emma.”
“I may have a wild idea to propose.”
Dunmoore glanced at Salminen with an eyebrow cocked in question.
“Propose away, Tatiana. You already scored what everyone agrees is a direct hit.”
The Scandian, a lean, tall woman with short dark hair and intense blue eyes gave Siobhan the shy smile she’d never quite managed to shed.
“Could it be the pirates were after one or more of the passengers but wanted to turn their disappearance into a mystery?”
“Assuming they expected salvagers or the Navy to find Kattegat Maru in interstellar space before the end of this damned war.”
Salminen gave Sirico a half shrug.
“The pirates might have planned on somehow informing the Navy or one of the shipping companies sailing in this sector, or even on accomplices pretending they’re honest spacers finding her. As I said, it’s a wild idea.”
“No,” Holt replied. “I think Tatiana’s on to something. We should obtain a copy of the passenger manifest and see if any names catch our attention.”
“Provided the pirates didn’t wipe it along with the log.”
“True, Captain. If Tatiana’s theory holds water, then they’ll have taken that precaution as well. But maybe Chief Day can work his magic on the manifest along with the log. And Carrie Fennon should be able to provide at least a partial list from memory.”
“I’ll make sure he gets a copy of Kattegat Maru’s database the moment we board. And on that note, I want to brief the relief crew and the Marines coming with us.”
“You’re getting Karlo Saari’s platoon, Emma. They’ll be waiting on the hangar deck, equipped to live in Kattegat Maru for however long they’re needed.”
“Excellent. Karlo’s always good for a laugh when things become dull.”
**
“The hangar deck is pressurized, the space doors are closed, but so is the airlock,” Petty Officer Third Class Gus Purdy, the lead shuttle’s pilot said. “No reception committee. You want me to drop the ramp, Commander Cullop?”
“Hang on a second.” Iolanthe’s second officer could have sworn she saw a shadow in Kattegat Maru’s hangar deck control room. “I think our Apprentice Officer Fennon is cagey, and I don’t blame her.” She switched to the general frequency. “Folks, I will step off first. Alone. Otherwise, I think we might scare Fennon into opening the space doors and turn our friendly arrival into an unpleasant emergency decompression. That means no Marines stamping down aft ramps, weapons at the ready, shouting barbaric Scandian war cries.”
“It’s Suomi, not barbarian, Commander, but considering where you’re from, the confusion is understandable. And if I may say so, you take the fun out of boarding parties.”
“And you would scare the life out of Shrehari Marines, let alone a young woman trying to keep what’s left of her nerves from fraying, Command Sergeant Saari.”
“There is that, of course,” he replied in a rueful tone. “I seem to have a rather unfortunate effect on civilians.”
“Damn straight, Karlo. You’re not the prettiest thing to be whelped in Kollsvik,” Sergean
t First Class Maki Mattis, Saari’s platoon sergeant said to undisguised guffaws from the rest of 1st Platoon, E Company, 3rd Battalion, Scandia Regiment. “On the contrary.”
“Pardon my soldiers’ lack of manners, Commander Cullop. You can take them away from where the dire-wolves roam, but you can’t keep them from marking their territory. I will bow to your greater judgment.”
The Scandia Regiment’s crest, a loping wolf on a stylized snowflake obviously inspired Saari’s quip. He saw Mattis give him a good-natured rigid digit salute out of the corner of his eyes.
“Okay. Everyone stays in the shuttles, buttoned up until I give the word.” Cullop, wearing battle armor like that of the boarding party’s soldiers, climbed to her feet, checked her suit’s integrity, then gestured aft. “Let me out.”
She walked down the ramp with a deliberate, unhurried stride and headed for the inner door. When it didn’t open at her approach, she stopped three paces short and, after one last check that the hangar deck’s air was breathable, she unfastened her helmet and removed it.
“Hi. I’m Emma Cullop.” She pointed at the two-and-a-half stripes of her rank in the middle of her chest. “I’m a lieutenant commander in the Commonwealth Navy these days. But before the war, I was a merchant officer, just like you. In fact, I believe I’m still a member of the Guild. They kept everyone who volunteered for the Navy on the books at no cost.”
Cullop heard a mechanical clang as locking bars moved out of the way. Then, the thick door shifted backward and to one side, revealing an airlock whose other door was already gaping wide.
A tall, gangly, almost coltish young woman with short dark hair and big brown eyes stood inside, a wicked-looking blaster in her hand, barrel pointed downward, finger on the trigger guard. Her posture and her expression signaled caution, distrust, and perhaps even an undercurrent of fear. Cullop raised both hands.
“I’m unarmed, as you can see, Apprentice Officer Fennon. Will you grant me permission to come aboard?”
Carrie seemed momentarily thrown by Cullop’s question and merely stared at her as if she’d expected the Navy to barge in rather than follow the customary courtesies.
“Um, yes. I suppose.” She stepped back and waved Cullop into the airlock.
“I brought twenty naval crew and twenty-five soldiers with me, Officer Fennon. They’ll stay aboard the shuttles until you let them disembark. Captain Dunmoore assigned me the role of Kattegat Maru’s relief captain until we recover your crew or dock at a suitable port, since an apprentice officer can’t legally act as master. Kattegat Maru will temporarily hold the status of a Fleet Auxiliary vessel and you that of a temporary civilian Fleet employee, so I can run her as a naval unit without breaking any laws. But your family’s ownership remains unchanged.”
A dubious frown creased Fennon’s smooth forehead.
“Does that mean I must obey your orders?”
“It does.”
“But it’s my ship.”
“And that makes you no different from any other ship-owner who doesn’t hold a merchant officer’s certificate. You may consider yourself a supercargo if you prefer.”
Fennon considered Cullop’s suggestion for a moment, then nodded.
“Understood.” A pause. “Captain.”
— Six —
Carrie Fennon wondered whether she would remember every name and rating as Cullop took her through the ranks and introduced Kattegat Maru’s relief crew. They, in turn, met her gaze with the professional confidence she expected from her ship’s regular complement, and she saw no hint of unkindness in their eyes.
When Cullop guided her to Command Sergeant Karlo Saari’s platoon, formed up beside the relief crew, and introduced him as coming from the Scandia Regiment, Fennon blurted out, “You’re not Marines, are you?”
Saari gave her a broad, friendly grin.
“No, Officer Fennon. We’re Army through and through. The Marine Corps needed help, and they sent us to show them how it’s done.”
Fennon didn’t know whether he was pulling her leg, so she smiled and nodded once.
“Welcome.”
“Don’t mind Karlo,” Cullop said. “He’s blessed with a questionable sense of humor. I understand it’s a Scandian thing.”
“And so it is, sir. As you might remember, Scandia is known as the happiest place in the galaxy.” That statement drew a few muffled groans from the soldiers behind him. “If you’ll follow me, I can introduce you to those blessed by that happiness.”
Another bewildering round of names, ranks, and functions jostled for space in Carrie’s head. But these strange, smiling soldiers seemed to exude the same quiet competence as the spacers, and for the first time since her uncle Steph shoved her into the shielded cubbyhole, Carrie felt a glimmer of hope.
“Might I suggest we head for the passenger cabins so the relief crew can settle in, Officer Fennon?” Cullop asked after the introductions were over. “When everyone’s stripped off their tin suit, you can show us around Kattegat Maru. Not everybody at once but in small groups, spacers first. And I’m really curious to see where you hid.”
Fennon noticed how carefully Cullop worded the request, reinforcing the notion she and the others were temporary, here to help until Kattegat Maru’s rightful crew could return. It gave her mood an unexpected lift.
“Please follow me, Captain.” This time she neither paused nor hesitated before giving Lieutenant Commander Cullop the proper courtesy title.
**
“So?” Dunmoore raised a questioning eyebrow moments after the video link between Iolanthe and Kattegat Maru went live.
“Yulia confirms there’s nothing wrong with the ship, sir.” Cullop was referring to Lieutenant Yulia Zhukov, one of the Q-ship’s engineering officers, and for now, the freighter’s relief chief engineer. “She should be able to accelerate, decelerate, go FTL, or maneuver on thrusters. Her environmental suite is clean and functional, as are the secondary systems. Chief Henkman checked the shield generators and guns, and they too are functional. If we were the ones to find her with no Apprentice Officer Fennon aboard, we’d be scratching our heads right now. For a ship older than most of Iolanthe’s crew, she’s in remarkably good condition.”
“What about the logs?”
“Wiped, as Fennon said. The captain’s log, the navigation log, and the sensor log all stop right after Kattegat Maru emerged from her last FTL jump. And the passenger manifest is gone.”
“What are the chances of recovering something?”
Cullop, a slim, short-haired, prematurely gray woman in her late thirties was alone on the bridge, sitting in Captain Aurelia Fennon’s command chair. She shrugged.
“That’s Chief Day’s domain, sir. I fired a copy of everything over to him a few hours ago. If he’s made any progress by now, we’d have heard.”
“Do you expect problems sailing Kattegat Maru?”
“No.” Cullop looked around the small bridge with its efficient layout. “As I said, she’s in good condition. Apprentice Officer Fennon is proving to be extremely useful in helping us figure everything out. I don’t doubt she’ll pass her watch-keeping certification on the first try.”
“Good. Now what we need is figure out our next destination. If Chief Day can’t restore anything useful from the erased logs, I’m afraid we’ll need to make for the nearest port.”
“Perhaps I could offer a suggestion or two, sir. Talking with Carrie Fennon about Kattegat Maru’s regular ports of call got me thinking. You know most merchant ships working the frontiers visit places that aren’t officially run by the Commonwealth, right? At least those ships not belonging to the big companies such as Black Nova. I’m talking about outposts and stations established under private charters with private money and no permits from the Colonial Office. No one talks about them, and they’re not listed in any official registers.”
“Yes.”
Cullop fancied she could see Dunmoore’s brain already working out the implications, thanks to the familiar
gleam in her gray eyes. It was the same one the CIC crew always saw when she worked out tactical angles before a battle.
“If we take it as a given the attack wasn’t opportunistic but deliberate and planned well ahead of time, our pirates might come from one of the unauthorized outposts hidden away in this part of the frontier. They would offer the perfect opportunity to place a subspace tracking device or even an infiltrator aboard Kattegat Maru.”
“Did she visit any of these shady places recently?”
A wry smile twisted Cullop’s face.
“The logs mention nothing, sir. Which is what I expected. While it’s not exactly illegal to trade with unregistered colonies, the government likes to collect its share of taxes from commercial transactions. If the tax collectors can’t take them from those outposts, they will squeeze merchant shippers instead. Therefore, neither visits nor transactions are logged. And so far, Apprentice Officer Fennon is being extremely cagey about discussing the matter. But I’ll keep trying to convince her we would only use the information to look for her crew, not to sic the government on Kattegat Maru over accounting mistakes.”
“You mentioned a subspace tracking device or infiltrator. Did you see evidence of either?”
“No. Nor would I expect any. If the goal was to create a mystery, they’ll have removed the evidence.”
Dunmoore nodded.
“Of course. How do merchant captains store the navigation instructions to find those hidden gems, Emma? Assuming they don’t want government inspectors to discover them because keeping the locations confidential is part of the deal with it comes to docking or landing there, right?”
“Correct, sir. Confidentiality is big with unregistered outposts. Portable storage would be my guess. A memory chip embedded in jewelry for example. Captain Aurelia Fennon would have been wearing or carrying her confidential navigation instructions when the pirates took Kattegat Maru, meaning we won’t find them. I’m not even sure Carrie would know, but I’ll keep trying for an answer to that question as well.”