by Eric Thomson
“Except this won’t be a dirty trick,” Salminen cautioned. “The operation will happen with the full concurrence of the stockade’s commanding officer. You could say our captain is doing him a favor of sorts by removing a potential source of embarrassment.”
“And why would we be doing favors for the SSB, Major?”
“Would you rather shoot them, Karlo?”
“Well...”
“Maybe Karlo’s platoon should stay at the landing strip,” Haataja suggested. “He sounds a little trigger happy this morning. If we weren’t already down to three platoons, I might even propose he stay here.”
“You’re a cruel man, Talo.”
“It comes with the starbursts.” Haataja pointed at the rank insignia on his collar. “But keep going, and you’ll never find out.”
“Why? Are you recommending me for a direct commission?”
Salminen raised both hands.
“Okay. Enough. Does anyone have real questions and not editorial comments disguised as such? The captain is anxious to wrap this up so we can find Kattegat Maru’s crew.”
Command Sergeant Jennsen raised her hand.
“I do, sir. If this is a sham raid why are we taking three platoons?”
“In case the sham turns into a cock up. It’s improbable but not impossible. The SSB goons will think twice before doing anything stupid against most of an armored infantry company, whereas a mere platoon might tempt them.”
“If the captain wants to remind the SSB that stupid hurts, she should send Chief Guthren with us.”
Haataja gave Saari a mock scowl.
“I think we can handle it without the Navy, Karlo, despite your itchy trigger finger.”
“Just looking out for the mission.”
“Anything else?” Salminen asked. When no one answered, she clapped her hands once. “Brief your platoons. We leave in sixty minutes. And make sure everyone is in Varangian Company getup. The SSB might know we’re Fleet, but the captain wants the rescuees to believe we’re a PMC hired by Kattegat Maru’s owners. The moment we break out of Temar orbit, the Furious Faerie turns back into Persephone.”
**
Brakal, alone in his office, a cup of tvass in hand, was staring sightlessly at the bulkhead when Regar stuck his head through the door.
“Not our most glorious hours,” the Tai Kan officer said, “but you’ll be pleased to know we still obtained decent readings of the moon’s surface and a good accounting of their satellite dispositions.”
After swallowing a healthy mouthful of tvass, Brakal turned his massive head and scowled.
“Not our most glorious hours? Take care you don’t overstep the generous boundaries I granted you, spy. Would we have found glory in slugging it out with that battleship?”
He gestured at Regar to enter and sit.
“No. Not once the orbital defenses joined in. The mood aboard is somber, as you might expect, but most are privately relieved we came through with our ship able to return home, especially Urag. That human vessel was a nasty surprise.”
“You spoke of sensor readings.”
Brakal’s question and his tone put an end to any discussion of the abortive, inconclusive, and ultimately unsatisfying battle.
“There appears to be only one set of artificial constructs on that moon, in the hemisphere facing Raijin. Although it has a good landing strip, the adjoining building cluster, well hidden, by the way, is relatively small. The rest of the surface seems untouched. Whatever the humans are doing there, it does not bear the hallmarks of a major research and development facility.”
“Perhaps the installation is mostly underground.”
“Possible, to be sure, but not probable.”
“A spy’s opinion?”
“A spy’s instinct.”
“Then you’re saying whatever the humans are up to doesn’t present an immediate peril to the Empire?”
Regar raised his hands in a gesture of uncertainty.
“No one can know for sure. The moon’s defenses show the humans consider it important, but not everything they do is related to the war. Their version of the Tai Kan also struggles with internal security issues.”
“Should I recommend a return visit with a full strike force?”
“How would I know, Commander? I’m an execrable Tai Kan insect assigned as Tol Vehar’s political officer to ensure your loyalty.” A disingenuous look crossed Regar’s angular features. “But the former Imperial Deep Space Fleet officer in me doesn’t think another mission to this system is worth anyone’s while. At least not until human phantoms cease bedeviling our sector and leave your ships idle.”
Brakal finished his tvass and said, “A surprisingly sensible conclusion from someone who underwent Tai Kan initiation rituals.”
“New members aren’t actually subjected to a lobotomy even if it sometimes appears that way. What will you do now?”
A grunt.
“Return to Kilia and see if we might find better information about the human raider. Perhaps your colleagues finally removed their heads from their nether regions.”
“Doubtful, but since there’s nothing else to go on, I suppose it’s a sensible destination. Our path home cuts through the general area anyway.”
Brakal’s reply dripped with sarcasm.
“I am gratified by your agreement, spy. It means so much to one such as me.”
But Regar, as usual, let Brakal’s ill humor slide off his back.
“Another serving of tvass? Or something stronger?”
“Tvass now. Ale once we’re in otherspace.”
— Forty —
Dunmoore, once again wearing her privateer’s quasi-uniform, watched from the hangar deck control room as Major Salminen’s soldiers gently led forty-five blindfolded men and women to the forward cargo hold. There, Chief Dwyn and her mates had set up cots, chairs, tables, sanitary and entertainment units, transforming the cavernous space into an improvised barracks. Once the last of them vanished, Dunmoore entered the hangar and waved Salminen over.
“Anything of note we didn’t see on the live feed from your battlesuits?” She asked once the soldier was within earshot.
“No, sir. Hersom’s guards and droids stayed well clear, though they gave us dirty looks. The guards, not the droids. I didn’t see Hersom himself, but he probably observed the whole thing from his command center.”
“No one let on we were Fleet?”
The soldier shook her head.
“They’re confused, understandably, but I think everyone believes the private military corporation story.”
“Thank you for speaking with them. I’d have done it myself up here, but showing my face again after they saw me in their compound wouldn’t do our cover story any favors.”
“My pleasure, sir. I rarely get the chance to playact as a mercenary in front of a non-hostile civilian crowd. It makes for a nice change. When did you wish to speak with Mostar Quantrill and see if he’s the Forenza we remember from Toboso? The general resemblance is rather striking up close.”
“Once we’re FTL. Just in case. I’ll ask the officer of the watch to let your sergeant major know.”
“Yes, sir.” Salminen came to attention. “With your permission?”
“Dismissed and give your folks a Bravo Zulu from me.”
“I will. Thank you.”
She saluted and turned on her heels.
Dunmoore’s communicator buzzed for attention a moment later.
“Yes?”
“Holt here, Skipper. We’re ready to break out of orbit and leave this benighted place. Did you want to exchange parting words with Mister Hersom?”
“No. We’ve said everything we wanted to each other. Besides, he’s probably still sore from my forcing him to give up the Kattegat Maru passengers.”
Holt chuckled.
“As he should, the SSB sonofabitch.”
“Take us out, Zeke. Make for the hyperlimit at best rate of acceleration and warn Emma we’re coming. S
peaking of which, has she seen the Shrehari pass by yet?”
“Yes, they crossed the heliopause while you were watching Tatiana’s gunships land. We should hear about them going FTL at interstellar speeds within the hour and good riddance. For Astrid’s planning purposes, do you wish to pass by the Octavius Array and see if there’s mail?”
A sinking feeling filled her gut with lead. Admiral Petras would expect her to join his task force as soon as possible. If she followed protocol and interrogated the array, new orders might compel her to abandon the chase and leave Kattegat Maru’s crew to their fate. If she disobeyed them and Petras found out, things would surely become unpleasant. Best to commit a minor sin by skipping the array than a mortal one through insubordination.
“Ask Astrid to plot the most direct route for Kilia. We’ll skip the dogleg to Octavius this once under the doctrine of hot pursuit.”
And hope Petras would either understand or fail to notice, she silently added.
**
The silver-haired man who entered Iolanthe’s conference room took in his new surroundings with an expression of keen interest before his gaze rested on Dunmoore, sitting at the head of the table.
“Ser Quantrill, I believe? Please take a seat.” Dunmoore pointed at the nearest chair. “I’m Shannon O’Donnell, captain of the privateer Persephone.”
He complied, eyes never leaving her face. Eyes that held an undisguised glimmer of recognition.
“O’Donnell? Did we ever meet, Captain? But where are my manners?” His voice vibrated with the same educated, almost refined rhythms as Forenza’s. “Thank you for rescuing us from that place of perdition.”
“As my infantry commander told you, we were hired to do so. Therefore thanks are superfluous.”
He inclined his head.
“As you wish. May I ask why I was singled out to speak with you? Or am I merely the first of forty-five?”
She heard a hint of mockery in his tone.
“You may ask. Or we could cut the bullshit, Ser Forenza. Your disguise is good, but I’m skilled at recognizing faces, especially those of people who helped me through tough spots. Besides, I spent years with your sister at the Academy, and you share the same family traits, especially the eyes.”
A broad smile relaxed his aristocratic features.
“I suppose we should, as you say, cut the bullshit, Captain Dunmoore. I’ve never been a fan of dissembling for appearances’ sake. And this time I insist you accept my thanks for pulling us from the SSB’s clutches.”
“You knew who was detaining you.”
“I can recognize the signs. They’re not particularly subtle. I suppose the Bureau was after me.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Please, Captain, you’re no dissembler. If you thought I was nothing more than bycatch in an SSB operation, we wouldn’t be speaking. This ship’s cover as a privateer is more valuable than satisfying your curiosity.”
“How about we make a deal? I’ll go over the events that led to us speaking in my ship’s conference room today and in return you tell me why the Bureau went through a complex piracy rigmarole to capture you — without having the slightest clue about your identity?”
“What makes you think they’re keen on me?”
She gave him a knowing smile.
“Instinct. The SSB hired mercenaries to seize Kattegat Maru and detain her passengers on the strength of information that a person of interest presenting a peril to Commonwealth security was among them. Or at least what the Bureau defines as a peril. It would be too much of a coincidence if there was someone of interest aboard besides an agent of the Colonial Office with wide-ranging, let’s call them duties, and avoid more questionable euphemisms. Your joining the ship on an unregistered colony beyond Commonwealth control at the last minute simply adds to the equation.”
“So you recovered the crew, then?”
Dunmoore shook her head.
“Not yet, but Carrie Fennon hid during the attack and sent out a distress call once your abductors were gone. We answered her signal and have been looking for both passengers and crew ever since. The mercenaries’ employer helpfully gave me the coordinates of the general area where I might find you and your fellow detainees, which in turn let me here. Although when we arrived, I found the SSB declined to take the crew. It’s still out there somewhere, at the mercy of Enoc Tarrant’s people.”
Forenza grimaced.
“Not good. I assume your next move is to rectify that situation?”
“It is. We are on our way to the Hecate system’s heliopause, where Kattegat Maru is waiting under a prize crew from my ship. From there, I intend to head for Kilia — again.”
“I see. May I ask how you convinced the SSB to release us? I assume you recognized me during your walk-through and thought I might be the object of their search.”
“By a combination of persuasion and strength. I planted the idea they’d been misinformed by a source looking to make money off this operation since their interrogators couldn’t figure out who the target was. And let it slip I wouldn’t be averse to conducting an armed raid.”
“Which you carried out anyway.”
“A sham, for the benefit of your fellow passengers.”
“Why tell me this?”
“For a quid pro quo, Ser Forenza. What does the SSB want from you? Is it to do with Colonial Office interest in Cullan? Or was this elaborate abduction scheme part of a greater interagency war between the SSB and your lot?”
He didn’t immediately answer though his gaze never left Dunmoore. She could almost visualize his internal debate on how much to reveal as a sign of gratitude for not betraying him.
“Our relation with the Bureau is about as problematic as the Fleet’s. Perhaps worse, since we operate in the same environment while you’re focused on keeping the Shrehari at bay and hopefully one day ejecting them from our star systems. As part of my duties — call me a fixer if you wish — I often come into conflict with SSB operatives. But things usually end with one side or the other withdrawing to avoid bloodshed. It’s part of a tacit understanding between us.”
“I’d say kidnapping a shipload of innocent civilians just to capture one man is the moral equivalent of drawing blood between covert services, wouldn’t you agree, Ser Forenza?”
“Kidnapping me was a way of avoiding bloodshed, in a sense. I would vanish in a supposed pirate attack, just one victim among many and no one would know the SSB held me in their dungeon. Thus, no risk of retaliation by my agency. Rather brilliant, if heavy on collateral damage.”
Dunmoore made a face.
“I’m not sure brilliant is the right word. Callous, perhaps. What I don’t understand is how an informant might figure someone the SSB wants was aboard Kattegat Maru yet didn’t know either the target’s identity or appearance.”
Forenza’s lips twisted into a dismissive moue.
“Easily explained, Captain.”
“Try me.”
— Forty-One —
Forenza settled back in his chair, elbows on the armrests and steepled his fingers.
“I’ve been active in the Unclaimed Zone for months, changing names and faces at will. My current identity dates back to an hour before I boarded the freighter. And this most recent trip wasn’t my first in Captain Fennon’s ship. I’ve used her to shift between unregistered colonies ever since I started my mission in these parts. The SSB is quite able to assemble a partial picture and act on it. They also run a network of agents and informants in the badlands. Perhaps Enoc Tarrant was already under contract to the Bureau and merely waiting for a signal that on a given run out of the Zone, a person of interest traveled in Kattegat Maru. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say the informant believed a man wanted by the Bureau was aboard. Half the passengers joined her on Cullan, and I daresay the credentials they — we — carried at the time of our capture didn’t match those recorded during departure, hence the difficulty in identifying me. Truth is rather fluid out
there.”
He waved at the bulkhead as if to indicate the Unclaimed Zone.
Dunmoore studied Forenza with cold eyes, wondering whether his smooth explanation was the truth or a false story spun by a born liar. Did it matter? Probably not.
Whatever games the Colonial Office or the SSB or any other government agency was playing in a part of the galaxy almost untouched by the war didn’t concern her. Retrieving Captain Fennon and her people did.
“I suppose it’s useless to ask what you were doing on Cullan and elsewhere, or why the SSB might not want your office meddling in affairs there. Or whether your explanation of how this mess happened even bears a minute resemblance to the truth.”
Forenza inclined his head. A faint smile tugged at his lips though she couldn’t tell if it was mocking or appreciative.
“Just so, Captain. Now I’m no longer in the SSB’s hands, this incident will be forgotten by everyone involved and better luck next time.”
“Your fellow passengers or the crew won’t forget it. If we even find the latter before something worse happens.”
“You know what I mean, Captain. Forgotten in the bureaucratic universe which often bears no relationship to reality. And I would suggest your after-action report is written in a way that shows you know nothing about the abductors’ identity or motives. It will avoid any heartache that might come from your superiors asking the Bureau’s leadership awkward questions.”
“Or your superiors for that matter.”
“I knew you’d understand the situation.”
“Understand, yes. Like, no. But since I don’t get a vote...”
She shrugged dismissively.
A sympathetic, and Dunmoore suspected wholly false smile relaxed Forenza’s expression.
“Indeed, you do not. The same goes for me if that makes you feel better. Our sort exists to carry out orders, not make policy decisions.”
“What I still don’t understand is how the SSB set up the attack on Kattegat Maru so handily. I doubt Cullan has a subspace radio connection with Kilia, let alone Temar. Yet someone told Enoc Tarrant a person the SSB wanted was traveling in her.”