The Syracuse Deception

by T. S. Williams

  The pair looked unconvinced.

  Athena threw up her hands in mild exasperation “Ugh! I know you’re both regular fleet, him I get. But Hannah, you were KEW Branch. How are you both so naïve?”. Cartwright waited until Athena’s back had turned, then rolled her eyes.

  The lift continued on, speeding past deck after deck, eventually depositing them outside Command Central. As they disembarked, a single Para met them. He was dressed in fatigues rather than full armour. As close as a Para came to a dress uniform.

  His tone was formal “Greetings Commander, Lieutenant, Athena. I am Captain Scarlett, the Command Authority are expecting you. Please follow me”. He turned sharply and made way towards a large hatch at the end of the corridor.

  Magnus and Cartwright deliberately stayed back, letting Athena lead the trio in.

  The meeting room they entered looked more like a court than a command suite. At the far end a floor to ceiling portal looked out over the enormous internal hangar. In front of this, was a large shared desk, unlike most of the furniture which seemed to have been extruded from Cloud base’s structure, this appeared to be real wood. A very rare commodity in space.

  Three figures sat behind the desk, silhouetted against the magnificent view.

  The middle figure spoke, a stern male voiced seemed to dominate the space, “Commander, Lieutenant, Agent”. He paused, almost melodramatically. “Welcome to a Board of Inquiry called to exam the actions of the Commander of Tor Station, temporarily of the Dreadnought and her erstwhile crew”. Magnus, Athena and Cartwright took seating in the much smaller desk in front of the dignitaries.

  The Admiral, who’d welcomed them earlier, was in the traditional High Guard black and silver tunic.

  Again, the long pause. “The Board so impanelled are Counter-Admiral Yohan Camperdown, High Guard Fleet Intelligence” he paused, pointed to his left and continued “Director Roshan Kumar, King’s Engineering Works Branch” he pointed to his right “and Commissioner Adrian Hale, Royal Scientific Service”.

  Magnus felt his stomach drop, despite what Athena had said.

  The Admiral continued speaking in his stuffy manner “Let the record show, the reason for this irregular make up, is that the actions under inquiry have infringed upon joint Operation Spectrum. Under said operation’s terms of reference, it is for us to investigate and make recommendations to the wider institutions we represent”.

  Magnus glanced to his left, despite his own nerves, Athena was looking at her nails. He admired her certitude. To his right, Cartwright looked like carved stone, her body rigid in her chair.

  Admiral Camperdown turned to his two colleagues “We’ve have all reviewed Dreadnought’s mission log, Commander. It is clear that elements at Admiralty will want to exile you, just to stop other Officers being quite so ‘individualist’ in the future. This is your chance to mention anything your logs don’t cover”. Another grandiose pause “Get it taken into consideration now”.

  He glanced at Athena, she wasn’t stepping in. He had to decide now, did he take responsibility for Cartwright’s actions, throw her to the wolves or deny all knowledge.

  He managed to stop his voice quavering “Under my instruction, Lieutenant Cartwright salvaged an archeo-tech starship. We now refer to her as the Frankenstein”.

  Cartwright’s eyes were wide, focused on him, Magnus forced himself to keep going “To avoid a Blight strain gaining access to a starship equivalent to our own, it was necessary for my landing party to resort to unusual methods”.

  The next be was a stretch “With my full concurrence, she installed a non-standard infiltration package in Frankenstein’s network, in the belief it would enable full operation and inoculate the vessel from Blight infection”.

  He half wondered if he should stop there, but soldiered on from instinct. The Admiral didn’t seem the type to tolerate half-truths. “The ship’s docking bay had been under repeat attack from the Blight. Infection was a significant risk. I authorised her actions, so take full responsibility”.

  He felt, more than saw Cartwright slump in her seat next to him, in relief or despair he couldn’t tell.

  The Admiral had been staring down at his desk display as Magnus had been speaking, his eyes darted up “Oh! You do, do you?”. He loudly grunted “Well I say that sounds like a load of old horse shit to me. The Dreadnought’s log show no evidence of communication between you on that matter”. He looked to his left “Director Kumar?”. Magnus’ guts clenched a little at the Admiral’s tone.

  Director Kumar looked Lieutenant Cartwright squarely in the eye “Lieutenant Cartwright. Ethically dubious work you’ve done. You’ve been warned before”.

  The Admiral looked to his right “Director Hale, anything you wish to add?”.

  The director seemed uninterested in Magnus “Lieutenant Cartwright, Commander Magnus, I hope you are aware of the severity of this matter”, he turned and faced his fellow board member “It cannot be allowed into the public domain. We must deal with it once and for all here”.

  Director Kumar returned the attention and grimaced “This matter clearly falls into the remit of this Command Authority, no appeal can be made”.

  Admiral Camperdown spoke “I declare a recess in this hearing for the Command Authority to make a judgement. Convene again in three hours. Dismissed”. The few persons present all stood up, the Admiral, Director and Commissioner all walked into an antechamber.

  Athena, Magnus and Cartwright spent the time sitting in a waiting room near the Command Authority chambers. It was sparsely furnished, so Magnus had nothing to throw when the frustration built up.

  Athena regarded the other two coolly.

  Cartwright seemed quiet, lost in her own thoughts.

  Eventually, Magnus channelled his nerves into providing drinks from the room’s refreshments dispenser. After the third time, neither Athena or Cartwright seemed interested, so Magnus simply paced back and forth.

  Eventually they were called back to the chamber.

  The Admiral interjected “This board of enquiry is complete. A judgement has been reached. The actions of Commander Magnus and his crew are supported, though he may wish to ensure his memory of events concurs with his logs better in the future. Our recommendation is that this matter be dealt with under Operation Spectrum protocols. All related records are to be classified for Spectrum eyes only. Frankenstein is to be disposed of to her most appropriate possessor under a confidentiality agreement. End record”.

  He burst into a smile upon finishing his last statement. “Well thank any passing gods, that’s over. I expect reports filed within 12 hours. Dismissed”.

  As the Admiral stood up, he saw the grey cylinder of a psy-blade hanging discretely from the Admiral’s belt. Magnus had to smile at another bullet dodged.

  Chapter 19

  Admiral Hecate surveyed her new surroundings.

  Her small team of survivors had been politely taken off Dreadnought and re-homed on Cloud base. She wasn’t quite sure where she was, but she knew the travel time from Socotra 3. She’d spent the time in transit processing the emotional whiplash from recent events. She raged at herself for leading a Laurentian warship to a Lakedaemon black site, resulting in its destruction. She feared that Magnus would renege, or be forced to renege, on his promise to give her the recovered ancient starship. The Frankenstein was the silver lining to her cloud.

  Admiral Camperdown came to see her personally. His appearance was nicely timed, allowing Hecate and her band of survivors to settle in. She’d known there was no hope of leaving Cloud base against the will of her hosts. Laurentian computers only worked for Laurentians. It is easy to work out who you are, when you have tiny networked machines running through your mind and body.

  Camperdown politely greeted her fellows, then asked if they could speak in private. She had agreed, as much to leave the suite and see more of Cloud base as to cooperate. He had smiled a strange smile and said “Why my dear Admiral, allow me to grow you a new office”.

>   Dreadnought’s prodigious ability to rearrange its internals had made her nervous, Magnus had shown her how his day cabin had the capacity to grow furniture out of the deck and bulkheads. She had thought it amusing but impractical. Cloud base was worse.

  The large common space with a view into the space dock, had suddenly begun growing internal walls. Her face was a mask as a hatch way formed in front of her. Chairs, a desk and shelving added functionality.

  Her own smile answered like a petawatt laser “Well then Admiral, please follow me”, she paused and in a throaty voice “into my new office”. She apprehensively stepped into the nearly formed room.

  She gestured to a chair opposite the main wall screen, “Please have a seat”. Admiral Camperdown looked gently amused and followed her suggestion. His surface thoughts were easy to read, professional and mild sexual interest in her. Followed by a desire to scope her out. No social awkwardness or other indication of a difficult conversation. She noted his less formal clothing.

  Most of the High Guard took great pride in their black tunics with silver decoration. Camperdown still wore black, but it was more like light battle dress. All harness and webbing. His rank insignia still lay on his collar, but his name, medals and specialism badges weren’t on display. She wondered what information he was denying her.

  After stepping up to display Laurentian tech, he’d taken a back foot and let her reclaim initiative in the conversation. She gladly took it “Admiral, these are lovely quarters. But space is where I belong, when can I get back out into the black? Your Commander Magnus promised me a ship”.

  Camperdown looked rueful “Magnus walks a thin line between genius and treason. To give away something so valuable, when there were other options open to him”. Hecate allowed a little shock to cloud her features to show she understood his meaning. Camperdown continued sardonically “Perhaps the good Commander has lost his edge”.

  She recognised the game being played “I think Magnus suffers from an idealistic wish for his nation to meet its obligations under both the Good Faith Treaty and accepted salvage law. Our Socotra 3 base was engaged in legitimate archaeology. No Blight involved.”.

  Camperdown clasped his hands on his lap, his voice turned sombre and regretful “Both our governments act in our national interests, first and foremost. We could take the ship, even now”.

  Hecate arched her eyebrow, “I agree you could take it, disappear my little band and silence or exile your own players”. She paused dramatically “But you won’t”.

  Camperdown, nodded his head once, “No, I won’t. I can’t afford the Empire looking along its borders for their lost Crown Princess, apple of her Imperial Daddy’s eye”. He smiled grudgingly “And the best witness to the fearsome Blight threat now afflicting both our nations”. He stream-rolled on “Just like the good Commander thought, better a live witness with a powerful salvaged starship than a mystery that undermines trust between the two of the leading nations”.

  She stepped into the gap “Particularly as Humanity has to muster the resources for a new Blight Crusade”.

  Camperdown nodded “Yes. My declaration has already gone off to our Admiralty. We are too unpopular to take the lead role. Only your Lakedaemon Empire has diplomatic capital to gather the all cousins”.

  She looked surprised at this admission “I hadn’t expected you to concede that so easily”.

  Camperdown looked tired, “The Good Faith Treaty was a product of our overreach. We tried to dictate a strategy to handle Blight to our whole species. We violated a lot of sovereignty doing it. A change was overdue”.

  Hecate narrowed her eyes “So what do you want now? A repeal of the limitations Laurentia agreed to?”.

  Camperdown was quick to respond “No. We haven’t rebuilt the trust for that. The great nations will have to come together. We just want a voice at the top”.

  Hecate couldn’t keep the scepticism out of her voice “That seems a limited ambition, for the most developed nation in known space”.

  Camperdown looked at her directly “We turn you loose with an ancient starship, whatever forces we can spare and let your Emperor save humankind” he paused mildly embarrassed, “My people took the Good Faith treaty as a reason to retreat from the universe, this Crusade will have to be yours”.

  She looked confused “Your King would allow this”. She struggled for the right word “disgrace?”.

  The embarrassment on Camperdown’s face crystallised, shame driving anger “Fighting the twelfth Blight Crusade killed off a significant portion of our population. The survivors received huge war service bonuses and record numbers entered the Centuriate early. Our Serjeant class is the smallest it’s been for five hundred years and the situation won’t improve for another thirty years”.

  If anything, Hecate was even more confused “I don’t understand your ‘class’ system. Explain it to me”. Her voice was scathing “Like I’m a foreigner”.

  Camperdown sat back in his chair “Every Laurentian owes his sovereign one-hundred years of service. We are paid in minutes, hours, days, months. During this period, we are members of the Serjeant class. We use our time to purchase food, water, shelter, clothes and finally our ascension. We join the Centuriate class. Exceptional service can bring bonuses.”

  He cleared his throat. “The Centuriate class have a manorial title, a right to child rear, their own power source and a molecular extruder. They can make anything they need and own their own land”.

  A wistful look crossed his face “Except after the last Blight, the diminished Centuriate produced offspring in far smaller number. We expect this will correct itself in a few decades”.

  Hecate smiled politely, but in the privacy of her own mind kept looking for the part that made sense, her mind was not used to thinking of the Laurentian Star Kingdom as vulnerable. In her Father’s Empire, little information about different cultures was made available, even to those of high status.

  She sensed no deception in Camperdown. It was time to push on. Hecate changed topic. “When will I be able to take command of the” she paused slightly frustrated “Frankenstein?”.

  Camperdown answered assuredly “Oh about five days. We’re scrubbing her clean, both software and structure, just to make sure there’s no slow growing Blight infection. Then we’ll load her magazines to the brim with ammunition and she’s yours”. Thoughtfully he added “Might have to spend a little time bringing your people up to speed with her interfaces. Maybe loan you a few teachers”.

  “How thoughtful Admiral” she simpered, “While we’re on the topic of my people…. These quarters are lovely for myself, but a bit restricting for a week for some of my more physical crew”.

  Camperdown considered the implied request “Major Sharp, our Security Officer, is holding a prize fighting tournament. He calls it his Havoc. Perhaps your more energetic personnel would care to compete?”.

  “Gotcha!” thought Hecate to herself, simultaneously answering “Thank you Admiral. I do believe they would”.

  Their conversation wound down to mere pleasantries, Hecate found herself decreasingly interested. Camperdown took the hint and excused himself.

  Hecate found herself deep in thought. Her office wall screen tuned itself to a real-time view of the Frankenstein. Her armour had flowed back allowing access to her magazines and systems. Tiny dots could be seen crawling over her hull. Occasionally a spark would flare on her as work progressed by welding or cutting away.

  After some hours, she sent for the leader of her trusted Hippeis.

  Ypodekaneas Andreou did not keep her waiting long. He entered her new office without a glance of curiosity, stepped smartly up to her desk and saluted.

  She stood briefly, returned the salute, gestured him into the seat opposite, then returned to her seated position.

  Her voice was firm but personable “Andreou, you’ve been with me a long time now”.

  Andreou nodded “Nearly five years, Yponavarchos”.

  She smiled “And once mo
re I find I need to ask you for a ‘particular’ service”.

  To his credit, Andreou didn’t gulp, wince or shudder. She hadn’t quite gotten him killed yet. “How can I serve Yponavarchos?”.

  She had to be delicate, ask this the wrong way and he would freeze. All low status Imperials learnt young that too much exposure to foreign cultures opened them to accusations of disloyalty and treason. “The Empire needs more knowledge of Laurentian culture. Something is driving them back from their place amongst wider humanity. We need to know what”.

  Andreou grunted “I’m no spy, Ma’am”.

  Her eyebrow rose imperiously, but her voice remained steady “I want you to interact with their soldiers on this base. Not spy, just be around them, listen to their idle gossip. See what it can tell us”.

  Andreou pushed the simple soldier routine to a logical conclusion, with a glint in his eye and a mixture of obedience and obduracy in his tone “One problem Ma’am. Laurentians don’t seem to be letting us go out to play”.

  Hecate smiled to herself, whilst her face became a stone mask. It was part of the game some of the senior non-commissioned officers liked to play, push buttons on a senior officer, just to see if he or she would break. “I have arranged for you and the rest of my Hippei to take part in a prize fighting tournament. Sharp’s Havoc. Try not to make us look weak in front of the foreigners will you, Ypodekaneas”. The insult served to highlight that Hecate could play by those rules too.

  Her warning echoed in his mind, but outwardly Andreou nodded politely “Very good Yponavarchos”.. He had many skills, spying was not among them. But walking around, listening, talking and fighting were things he and his squad could do.

  Chapter 20