The Devil and Deep Space

by Susan R. Matthews

  The containment field that held the Ragnarok’s atmosphere when the ship’s underbelly was not hulled over could not sustain the speed at which the Ragnarok was traveling without potential damage. That was why they hulled the maintenance atmosphere over for vector transit in the first place. Wheatfields would want to minimize his exposure.

  “With respect, your Excellency.” Now that Jennet knew who was talking, she almost thought she recognized the voice. “This beast can do anything. Just try her.”

  Mendez stood at Jennet’s side with his arms folded across his chest, frowning now in what appeared to be genuine concern. “Medical attention, Kerenko?” Mendez asked. There was a brief silence; then Security Chief Stildyne came into braid.

  “Assassination attempt, sir. Neurotoxin, but he’s got something he needs to read into the Record, and he was in too much of a hurry to listen to the doctors.”

  Koscuisko was accustomed to having his own way. Jennet felt a brief pang of concern in her belly: she hadn’t precisely gotten along with Koscuisko before the accident; how were they to get along now? Because she could not afford to let him doubt that she was the captain of the Ragnarok.

  “How bad is it, Chief?”

  Content to let Mendez do the talking, Jennet watched the track of the thula as it gained on them, and listened. “He’s pretty much drugged senseless, your Excellency. We’ll want Infirmary to be standing by. They didn’t want him traveling at all. He insisted.”

  “Good hostage,” Wheatfields said suddenly, not looking up. “Koscuisko’s an important man in his home system. We may need the leverage. I’ll bring him on board, your Excellency.”

  She hadn’t thought that far. But Wheatfields was right. She didn’t have to worry about how she was to manage Koscuisko’s adjustment to the changes that had occurred on the Ragnarok during his absence. He hadn’t been here. He was not implicated or involved. He was a neutral third party — an innocent bystander. A bargaining chip.

  “Very well.” Let Koscuisko on board, even with the Security she had wanted him to shelter. Better Koscuisko should bring the Security back on board where she could keep a good hold of them than follow the Ragnarok to Taisheki Station and surrender his Security before he knew what a mistake he would be making. “Grant permission, Engineer. We’ll alert Medical. Once we know what Koscuisko’s condition is, we can talk.”

  Technically speaking it was the First Officer, not the Captain, who got to decide who was and who was not allowed to come on board. Wheatfields nodded. “As you wish, Captain. Thula. What’s your name, anyway? Never mind. Sela, calculate a docking protocol. Kerenko. If it was anybody else driving, I wouldn’t be doing this.”

  But they’d seen Kerenko’s flying. They all knew that he was good. “Standing by for docking protocol, your Excellency, and thank you, sir.” Still, not even Kerenko could have that much experience piloting so exotic a ship —

  It was the Engineer’s lookout, Jennet reminded herself, firmly. “I’m going down to the maintenance atmosphere, First Officer.” To be there when the ship docked. “Would you call Infirmary for us, please?”

  An assassination attempt. By whom, and why, and what had they hoped to accomplish by murdering Koscuisko, or had it just been revenge? First things first. Let them get the thula into the maintenance atmosphere, and Koscuisko offloaded to Medical.

  Time enough to press for all the details later.

  ###

  When Andrej Koscuisko awoke he was in Infirmary on board of the Jurisdiction Fleet Ship Ragnarok, a circumstance both startling and disturbing. Startling because he had no memory of arriving; disturbing because he did not know where the Ragnarok was. “Mister Stildyne. What has happened?”

  The drugs were clearing from his system; he felt clearheaded, if weak. He had never known a doctor for soft–tissue injury management like Narion. She knew what she was doing.

  “Where to start, your Excellency?” Stildyne’s response was reflective. “We caught up with the Ragnarok on vector. We’ve come off vector. The Second Judge has announced her platform. There’s no encouragement from Taisheki Station on the Ragnarok’s appeal. You’re going to live. I think that’s the lot.”

  Whether he was going to live had not been at issue, so Stildyne was just padding his narrative. Or making sure that he had it all. “I need to place the Record into evidence, Chief, I’ve got to get up.”

  But Stildyne shook his head. “His Excellency may wish to reconsider. Fleet is not happy with Chilleau Judiciary. Specialist Ivers suggests we wait.”

  “She doesn’t have the Record, does she? Chief? Brachi?”

  “No, your Excellency.” The smile on Stildyne’s face to hear his first name was almost frightening. Because so much about Stildyne was. “Secured by order of the First Officer. Let me call First Officer, sir. He wants to talk to you.”

  Andrej didn’t need to answer that. He closed his eyes; and when he opened them again, the room was full of people. Narion’s soft–tissue specialty team, and him half naked on the inclined stasis–mover. First Officer. Stildyne. Specialist Ivers. Lieutenant ap Rhiannon, who’d started the entire mess by sending the wrong Security home with him.

  Perhaps that was unfair, Andrej decided. Ap Rhiannon hadn’t had anything to do with Mergau Noycannir. And if ap Rhiannon hadn’t sent the wrong Security, they wouldn’t have been present at Chelatring Side to save Andrej from Noycannir’s plot by demonstrating that the Record had been forged. So he owed her an apology. And it would have to wait.

  “Well, that’s the excuse,” First Officer was saying. “Unsettled environment, you come to us if you want Safes for those bond–involuntary troops. But I don’t like it, Specialist Ivers. No. We aren’t going anywhere fast.”

  Blinking, Andrej waited patiently for his eyes to focus. So they’d come off vector, but Taisheki had declined to meet them with Safes, as would have been standard operating procedure — an appeal was a Command action. Bond–involuntaries weren’t held accountable for it, but the stresses of the situation could destroy them unless they had the protection of the Safes.

  “That statement of the Second Judge’s does rather threaten Fleet’s power base, First Officer,” Andrej pointed out, very reasonably he thought. “I wouldn’t have thought Taisheki Station to be affected — ”

  Everybody turned to stare at him. What? Was he not speaking Standard? What was the matter with everybody?

  “Andrej,” Mendez said. “Good to hear from you. “How’s the shoulder? Better?”

  No, it felt much worse. That was the “better” part, though, because it meant that Narion was pulling back on the drugs. “I will get a report, First Officer, and let you know. Specialist Ivers. Stildyne says you want to hold the forged Record out of evidence. How can this be?”

  Ivers looked down and to one side, carefully, as if collecting her thoughts. “If you mean to endorse the Second Judge’s declaration. Consider. The forged Record is intimately connected with Mergau Noycannir, and thus could discredit Chilleau Judiciary. With respect, sir, now is exactly the wrong time to give Fleet any weapons against the candidacy of the Second Judge, if you agree with her declaration.”

  All right. Andrej supposed he could understand her reasoning. He turned his attention to the bandaging that the soft–tissue injury management team was doing; he’d never seen so much of his own flesh laid raw in his life.

  Ivers spoke on, but was no longer speaking to him. “I don’t understand why Taisheki Station would withhold Safes on these grounds, your Excellency. The Safes are there. They have only to send a courier. With your permission, I’d like to get to Taisheki Station and see if I can find out what’s going on.”

  Who was she talking to? She didn’t seem to be looking at Mendez. And Andrej himself was the only other Excellency in the room.

  “Take the Captain’s shallop. And those leftovers of Brecinn’s, with you,” ap Rhiannon said. “We keep the thula. Because Kerenko is driving it. And if Taisheki Station gets its hands on either, I’m
not likely to get them back. But . . . ”

  Oh, all right. Yes. Ap Rhiannon was an Excellency by default. Acting Captain, and so forth. Andrej leaned his head back against the padded headboard of the stasis–mover and frowned, concentrating.

  “Yes, your Excellency?” Ivers prompted.

  “If I don’t get satisfaction from Taisheki Station, Bench specialist, I can remove the Ragnarok to neutral territory and appeal to the Bench direct. And I will. I’ve come too far to let it all be for nothing.”

  What nonsense. The Ragnarok was a Fleet resource. There was no neutral territory for the Ragnarok in all of Jurisdiction space, if Taisheki Station should refuse the appeal. Ivers didn’t bother to point this out, as though she was as aware of the patent absurdity of this claim as he was. “Yes, Captain, and we’ll hope it doesn’t come to that. Your Excellency.”

  Too many Excellencies, Andrej decided. It was making him dizzy. The only way he could tell that he was the “Excellency” she meant this time was the fact that she had turned her body back to face him. “Bench specialist.”

  “I need to report about Noycannir to Chilleau Judiciary, sir. The Malcontent will already have transmitted some information, but Verlaine will be waiting to hear from me. I must respectfully request that you refrain from putting the forged Record into evidence until we have time to strategize. To decide if here and now is when it should be done.”

  She was making sense. He was tired. Narion was probably not going to let him out of Infirmary very soon, and he dared not pull rank on his own staff without truly crucial overriding considerations. Mendez had secured the Record. What harm could there be?

  “Leave also the documents that I for you countersigned, Specialist Ivers.” If he didn’t enter the forged Record into evidence before she logged relief of Writ, he could find himself barred from the Record, and unable to make the required statements. He couldn’t afford the risk.

  After a moment Ivers nodded. “Very well, your Excellency. Captain, I will go and find out what I can, and take those unwanted crew with me. General Rukota isn’t returning, ma’am?”

  Who was that? Rukota? General Rukota? He didn’t know any Generals Rukota. What had been going on here while he’d been away?

  “Nor do I blame him, Bench specialist. He’s got damage–control issues of his own. Doctor Koscuisko. Welcome back. We’ll get you a briefing once you’ve had a chance to recover a bit. You may wish to leave yourself but we can discuss it later.”

  What did ap Rhiannon know? This was his ship. His crew. He wasn’t going anywhere. He’d just gone to a very great deal of trouble to get back here.

  “You can be ambulatory inside of two days, your Excellency,” Narion assured him, gravely. “Whoever parked you on the other side did a superlative job. But you still have strong painkillers in your system. Go ahead and sleep them out, sir. Everything’s under control on this end and nothing’s happening fast.”

  Now, that was a sensible suggestion. And with Ivers’s agreement to hold processing of the documents that would cancel his clearance codes, he didn’t have so much concern about the forged Record going missing before it could be logged.

  This would all make sense when he woke up again, he was almost sure of it. “Make sure of the Record, First Officer,” Andrej said, and resigned himself to sleep once more.

  ###

  “And I say that ap Rhiannon has conspired with a Clerk of Court from Chilleau Judiciary to trade in contraband munitions,” Admiral Brecinn insisted. Jils kept her face clear of irritation; no one would believe that any emotion she displayed was genuine anyway. In the privacy of her own thoughts, she didn’t know whether to rage or to laugh. She’d never met Sandri Brecinn; she certainly hadn’t expected to find Brecinn here at Taisheki Station, rather than at Pesadie Training Command.

  “The Fleet Admiral is who she is,” Auditor Ormbach said, in a reasonable tone of voice. “We cannot simply discount her very serious accusations, no matter how extravagant they might seem. Work with us here, Bench specialist, please.”

  Brecinn was apparently feeling very sure of herself, basking in the deference being shown her by the Fleet’s auditors. Jils knew that was likely to be an error of judgment on Brecinn’s part. Fleet’s auditors were in general not so quick to swallow a story — at least Jils hoped not.

  “You’ve just come from the Ragnarok, Specialist Ivers,” Brecinn pointed out, her tone at once unctuous and ingratiating. “What can you tell us that will shed light on the ship’s truly inexplicable behavior?”

  Brecinn’s question was a challenge in good form. Jils thought about it. Brecinn had the advantage of prior persuasion on her side, having arrived here at Taisheki Station more than three days ago to make her case.

  Her arrival in and of itself was suspect to Jils. Brecinn claimed that it was the critical nature of the Ragnarok’s crimes that had motivated her to leave her Command, but Jils suspected that upper Fleet echelons might well ask why she hadn’t simply sent a courier. Or a priority transmit.

  “I can tell the Bench specialist plenty,” one of Brecinn’s crew — a member of the preliminary assessment team that Jils had liberated from the Ragnarok — said. Her voice was venomous. “We’ve kept notes. I’m sorry about Rukota, Admiral, but he went over from the beginning. Noycannir and he must have been in collusion from the very start.”

  Noycannir. Yes. That was right. The Clerk of Court with whom ap Rhiannon was supposed to be conspiring was Dame Mergau Noycannir, from Chilleau Judiciary. So Brecinn hadn’t heard. Verlaine had almost unquestionably been told by now. The Malcontent surely would have seen to that.

  But since Brecinn didn’t know it wasn’t public knowledge yet, or even leaked out into the informal communications channels that existed side by side with official Fleet lines of transmissions. Not deeply enough for Brecinn to have heard, and if Jils had been Brecinn, she would have been listening very carefully to every tidbit of gossip that she’d been able to dig up on her way from Pesadie to Taisheki Station.

  “Auditor, excuse the Pesadie team,” Jils suggested. The fact that the news was clearly not out gave her all she needed to determine a strategy — only a temporary strategy — but it would serve to stabilize the situation here at the Fleet Audit Appeals Authority. “I have privileged information to impart.”

  She waited. Station Security validated the privacy fields; she spoke again, choosing her words carefully, trying not to enjoy herself more than she properly ought. “Dame Mergau Noycannir is the Clerk of Court you suspect of conspiracy with the Ragnarok, Admiral Brecinn?”

  Brecinn was suspicious of the question, but she was trapped. There was no choice but to brazen this out now. “I do emphatically, Bench specialist.” Oh. So polite. “And I can’t help but suspect that she was involved in some plot or another with General Rukota. His presence at Pesadie Training Command might be taken as a little difficult to understand. A man with his connections can write his own posting–orders, after all.”

  Jils nodded. “Since this suggestion has been made, there is some information I need to share with you all. Noycannir has emphatically been implicated in a plot.” Had unquestionably been plotting with somebody, and where had she got the Record to use for her forged evidence, if not from Pesadie Training Command? Jils didn’t know. Stildyne hadn’t let her examine the forged Record, and she hadn’t pressed the issue. It would all come out sooner or later: or not at all.

  Brecinn seemed to know better than to let herself relax, even with this apparently encouraging information. She waited silently for Jils to continue; and the auditors — three of them — waited, too. It would be disobliging not to do so.

  “But is unlikely to have been plotting with the Ragnarok. Because she has in fact attempted to assassinate its Chief Medical Officer. This behavior seems too contradictory for someone in collusion with the Ragnarok’s Command; Koscuisko was at home, out of the way. It just draws attention to Noycannir. Some other explanation must be sought.” There was no need to mention
the fact that Noycannir was dead.

  Brecinn was not stupid enough to blurt out any self–incriminating denial of whatever Noycannir might have had to say about her; not yet. There would be time. And there would be the Protocols, when the time came, though Koscuisko was unlikely to be the man who would implement them. Ever again.

  “So I don’t need to tell you how delicate the situation is, Auditors. Dame Noycannir is clearly associated with Chilleau Judiciary. The Second Judge’s platform attacks the entire system of Inquiry, and a Clerk of Court from Chilleau has tried to kill Andrej Koscuisko. I have to take immediate action.”

  Not the action that Brecinn might expect her to undertake. She needed to get to Chilleau, consult with Verlaine about the forged Record. Noycannir’s crime could destroy the Second Judge’s chances to be First Judge once and for all. And Verlaine had convinced her that he was sincere, which meant that Chilleau’s bid for control of the Bench was the best hope for reform of the Judicial system she was likely to see in her lifetime — however much was left to her of that.

  “What action, Bench specialist, if we may ask?” Senior Auditor Ormbach’s voice was calm and politely curious, but Jils thought she could hear an undercurrent of amusement. Well. Brecinn had clearly felt confident of a sympathetic ear at Taisheki Station, and to a certain extent she had gotten it. But the Auditor was not turning off her own skeptical chaff detector, not even for Admiral Sandri Brecinn.

  That heartened Jils. It meant that Taisheki Station might not be corrupt, though Brecinn seemed to be relying upon it to be. Jils didn’t care for players in principle. Wasn’t that ap Rhiannon’s stance as well?

  “I need to quarantine Admiral Brecinn and her team. This information is too potentially divisive to be leaked by mischance.” Let alone on purpose, through a network of people who would take action to maximize their security and profit. “I will travel with the Ragnarok to Chilleau Judiciary to consult with Noycannir’s superiors and determine what should be done. I’ll want Safes. Bond–involuntary troops are Fleet resources, after all. It’s our duty to safeguard them.”