The Burning Crown (Stone Blade Book 4)

by James Matt Cox

  "No blather there," added Kidwell, "Whether there is or is not something bad there, this is going to take a lot of touch."

  Ionoski nodded. "You will be going in way under the garble on this one. You'll also have to operate without backup, but you know this. If you elect to do something."

  "Close and hose, Ted," said Micah, "Why do you even ask?"

  Ionoski smiled wanly. "Goes with the job, I suppose." He handed them each a handful of chits. "Profit from our company. I hadn't gotten around to handing it out but it might come in handy. If you need... things. You can't take any... official resources or... gear."

  "But why should we need it," asked Kidwell innocently, "We're on vacation."

  "Truth," said Ionoski, "I also have a ship reserved." He handed Micah a datacard. "If you want to travel. On your vacation. I hear Woodworld is a nice place to visit. They say some of the trees predate the League."

  "Sounds polar," said Micah, "Is there some reason you don't want Charlie on this one?"

  "Yes." Ionoski spoke with a finality that left no room for questions.

  Ionoski rose and left. Without his garble. Kidwell lit a 'stick and finished most of it before either of them spoke.

  "This is bad," she said.

  "It's bad twelve orbits from polar," affirmed Micah, "Just how much research can we do here? I mean that Ted hasn't done already."

  "Enough," she said, "I'm not sure who is in this with us but I'll take the chance. I'm better at it and if someone upstream decides I don't need a vacation, you can still go." She squirted him several names and passwords. "I'll post whatever I find to these accounts. That way you'll have what I find."

  "I'll help!"

  "You will not! There's no sense in both of us getting caught."

  After Kidwell started at him a while he nodded. She was right but he didn't have to like it!

  ***

  Fortunately for Micah's nerves Kidwell arrived at the port before he did. They met at a Kandy's stall, bought some chocolate chog and strolled casually as they searched for their ship. Unbeknownst to her he did make some preparations. He carefully did not use any Intelligence resources or even access. At least not much, but since what he did access related to him specifically and did not include any falsehood or omission, he thought he could slip out of any trouble.

  Interestingly enough, he and Kidwell made their trip through the port and the paperwork required to travel quickly and easily, despite the fact that they used the civilian side. Ionoski, suspected Micah, or someone above him. They also found everything requiring payment pre-paid. Ionoski again, Micah knew that, but given the amount of money on their chits. it did raise again the question of how much money his company really made!

  "I got everything I wanted," said Kidwell, "It was an interesting read."

  "I know. I looked into the public information."

  "Micah!"

  "I used an anonymous account, I didn't break any access laws and I only requested information available to the general public, albeit with one or two fees. They can't mast me for that."

  Kidwell rolled her eyes and grumbled, but only that.

  Micah realized even more that Ionoski or his superiors had a strong interest in their mission when he saw their ship. Though not a League Navy FasTAC, it was the closest civilian equivalent. He suspected he'd find ample civilian-grade gear inside, gear they might find useful. He received an even greater surprise when their pilot walked around the hull.

  "Welcome aboard, folks. I don't know..."

  The man stopped speaking to stare at Micah. Micah experienced his own moment of stunned silence as well.

  "John Thompson?!" Micah finally found his voice. "Excuse me. Commander John Thompson, SIR!"

  "Sergeant Stone? Flames, Sarge! How long has it been?!"

  Thompson offered his hand which Micah took and turned into a back-pounding embrace.

  "Too long, spiker! Long enough for you to find some bars to hold down your shoulders."

  Thompson grinned. "Plus-plus. I take it you didn't?"

  "Bars are for drinking in, sir! I had my fill of being an officer."

  Thompson laughed at that and Kidwell cleared her throat.

  "Am I to take it I should know you too, seigneur," she asked.

  Micah made a quick introduction.

  "Vera, you've heard me talk about Ceto and how I met Charlie?"

  "Only too many times, lover."

  "Thompson... Pardon! Commander Thompson is the pilot who flew us away from that station, just before it blew, with only half a ship and a hold full of Marines."

  "You can belay that 'Commander,' Sergeant Stone," grinned Thompson, "I might've flown us around half an orbit but you're the one who kept our floppers out of the fusion chamber 'till the League came back. For truth, unless I recall incorrectly that particular protection of private assets also involved taking out an entire starport and giving a lot of Corpses indigestion for the duration."

  "Pyronic," said Kidwell, "Given the plenitude of tales I've heard and the proportion of them I actually believe, it's good to meet you, John."

  "Speaking of meetings," said Thompson, "where's Charlie? I heard you two drew Protocol together. I hate it for you, friend, but if you're here I'm surprised he isn't."

  "He has a different assignment," said Kidwell, "Otherwise he would have been and I don't think my sanity could take that!"

  Thompson chuckled at that.

  "Are you our pilot," asked Micah.

  "That I am, sir. At least until I start my leave on Woodworld. Why?"

  "Lets get a jump out," said Micah, "Then we'll talk."

  ***

  "... so I have one more rotation through Deep Space Tactics and Carrier Procedure and Protocols and then I can try for my Pilot Instructor Cert."

  "Which you will receive," said Micah, "Assuming the Navy has any active brain cells."

  The three of them sat in the ship's cramped lounge. Thompson, as expert a pilot as ever Micah had seen, made short work of the three microjumps he needed to clear the gravity clutter. He then linked in equally short order.

  "Slib," said Thompson, "That's it for me. What about you two? Somehow I don't think Protocol is exactly what rumor says it is. I was set to deploy when up walks this civ in a suit spiffed shinier than my uniform. He took me to my CO, who happens to be one of the toughest sailors I've ever met. Worked his way up from enlistment through CPO twice before he made OTS.

  "With this shiny civilian looking on, Commodore Heulog suggested I '... take advantage of some of my accumulated leave for a pleasant vacation and study time before starting my next deployment.' He also thought I might '... have an enjoyable time on Woodworld...' and he told me about a ship I could '... rent for the duration of my stay for a very reasonable price...' provided I pick it up on Azure.

  "I hopped military transport here, and got a straight line through four ships which doesn't happen often, found my ship and the rent was already paid indefinitely. I was ready for an orbit-bending night on the town when I got a message telling me about two passengers who might be interested in traveling with me. That had a civilian authentication but it came through Navy routing. Then the two of you show up looking as surprised to see me as I was you.

  "Charlie was always too smart for his own good. The only thing he did better than get us in trouble was get us out of it. You, Sergeant Stone, are the damnedest go-through-hades-and-come-out-cool jarhat I've ever met. Even though I just met you, lovely lady, something deep in my gut tells me you're not someone I want to rut around, even a little."

  Kidwell looked at Micah and held her silence.

  "Rumor says," said Micah, "that you might just be in the same sector as right about Protocol. That's all I can say about that but I do have some material for you to look over."

  Micah handed him the datacube containing the local LNN casts along with the other public information he and Kidwell found. Nothing classified. Thompson read them carefully, then re-read them.

  "Hell's
frost! That's ruddy... That's not good," he said, "That's not in the same galaxy with good."

  "All truth and no blather there," said Micah, "Taken overall against the number of units in the number of ships in the League, it's insignificant. Taken in the specific circumstances that happened, it's bloody alarming."

  "Am I to infer that there is some way I might be able to help in this endeavor," asked Thompson carefully, "Considering I'm only a pilot, no matter how good."

  "It is quite possible," said Micah, "Since, however, the suspected source is a part of a sector that is a long-term part of the League, our military cannot act directly. That includes Protocol. The Patrol can, as can the Guilds, but not without solid evidence."

  Thompson thought hard a moment.

  "Sergeant... Pardon. Civilian Stone. If there is any way I can help alleviate or rectify this potentially tragic situation, I will. Gladly. Even if it earns me a transfer to Protocol."

  Micah shrugged. "That is a possibility, Civilian Thompson, but Protocol might not be the awful fate you think it is."

  "It might be worse," said Kidwell impishly.

  Micah, Kidwell and the now-quiet Thompson began working up the skeleton of a plan.

  Chapter 5. Fighting for a Job

  Karr and Blue arrived early and had a wonderful dinner with Worthington and his family, which they spent not discussing business. When the two children, aged fifteen and twelve, began showing signs of boredom the Lady Worthington collected them and excused them all. Karr regretted that; Lady Danella spoke with knowledge and interest on a wide and diverse number of topics. Still, matters of importance pressed. After Worthington kissed his wife and kids he escorted his guests to a cozy study where they had cordials waiting.

  "This room is secure and garbled," said Worthington, "The wine is of excellent character and age." Here he winked at Blue. "It is imported exclusively by House McReely."

  "Thank you, Sir Allan," said Karr. The wine was indeed good!

  "Thank you, my boy. I truly do appreciate the niceties of life but we have graver matters to discuss. Would that we did have no concern more critical than good wine!

  "I must admit to some consternation over the manifests for the items damaged. Had they not been damaged, and had they crossed my desk under ordinary circumstances I'd have passed them without a second glance. None of the items are disproportionately valuable, nor are they contraband. They are legal for export outside the League, though a few do require permits. That makes Fallstar ideal, of course, since they have all the proper forms routinely."

  "What did rouse your suspicion," asked Blue.

  "A number of small things. I can't put a finger to any particular one, though. I suppose it started because none of the parties involved could produce manufacturer's credentials on any of the items."

  Karr puzzled over this. Though absolutely required for importing from outside the League and for some exports, few merchants bothered when shipping within the League.

  "I know, lad, the law doesn't mandate it but certificates are routinely included in packages shipped directly from the manufacturer. Why bother removing them if there is nothing to conceal, especially when such action might rouse suspicion where it would not ordinarily." Worthington indicated one of the items. "Take, for example, these matrix crystals. They are still in their original crates and the manifest claims they were not imported, nor passed outside Crown space. There is no origin certification. None! I asked my staff to verify the manufacturer and lot number and both checked completely. They even offered to send us a copy of the original certs."

  "Again, sir," said Karr, "why the suspicion?"

  "Because they were new as of eight months ago. Matrix crystals of this particular type do not take long to grow, nor do they require anything rare or volatile in price. The need for them is fairly strong and quite consistent as well. The company that made these, Claridyne on Astraboria, told us they rarely warehouse any of their stock for more than three weeks and that only when business is slow."

  Karr called up a trade map and ran some calculations. Allowing for L-shots, microjumps and jitter and factoring in a couple of days for shipping transfer gave him... He stared at the result. Then he repeated the calculations.

  "Exactly, my boy," said Worthington, "Any way you run the numbers it's a much shorter and more economical route directly from Astraboria to Faircoast. The only reason to involve Fallstar would be as a hub with more goods originating or moving outside Crown and League, which none of this was."

  "That doesn't make sense," said Blue, "There is absolutely no reason for them to divert any of this through Fallstar. Economically it's a loss. Logistically it's a monumental waste and the risk of linking this stuff, the jitter... It's brain-spiked! Especially for something so mundane!"

  "Exactly so, dear lady. I have several of my staff investigating the matter. Quite under the garble, of course."

  "Of course," said Karr, "What about the other items?"

  Karr looked down the list.

  "Power couplings, photon transfer arrays, hull compound, catalyst ring nano - that explains the matrix crystals - bioreactor seed media... None of this is particularly common, Sir Allan, except for the hull compound," he said.

  "It is for asteroid mining," said Worthington, "My examination of the individual manifests suggested that might be the ultimate destination."

  "But these are military grade."

  "Many asteroid grinders and megafacs purchase milspec equipment. It is more expensive, truth, but it also lasts longer and can withstand higher tolerances."

  "Wait a milli," interjected Blue, "Piotr. Catalyst ring nano and matrix crystal. That can be used to produce fusion plant catalyst rings but they're cheaper to buy. Claridyne can turn them out by the cargo ton and the unit price would be a tenth the cost of making them."

  "Unless they need customization," said Karr.

  "In which case they would also need induction points calibrated to the nano. They could have shipped them separately, but again it makes a lot more sense to ship them together."

  "Perhaps they did ship separately," suggested Worthington, "I know those BinSu blokes were not happy about losing their cargo. They six-sigmas won't be earning a credit for it!"

  Karr looked on down the list. "Soyabase. Nanocrystal filament and generation lattices. Soyabase. Plasticaster rods, zrock gel and universal biodyne seal rings. None of those certified for vacuum so that excludes ships, grinders or 'facs. The filaments might be used to make datacubes. That's pure platinum outside the League."

  "But there's price again," said Blue, "and the fact that it was coming into the League."

  The door beeped, cutting off further speculation. At Worthington's signal his butler walked into the room with a chip.

  "Your pardon, Master Worthington." Then, to Blue, "Your cousin messaged you most urgently. When I asked he informed me that you might find news of interest."

  "Thank you, Ezra," said Worthington.

  Ezra bowed to them and left. Blue wasted no time examining the message.

  "This is confirmation, Piotr. The Warmwind did ground on Fallstar. She stayed long enough to load some cargo then left in what a careless person might call a hurry." She turned to Worthington, "Are you certain this is the Warmwind's manifest, Sir Allan?"

  "Without question, m'lady. Filed and signed by J. Wilkison, owner and captain with verified lading and departure credentials."

  "Could they have deliberately mislabeled or swapped labels," wondered Karr.

  "Possibly," said Worthington, "I am not responsible for Fallstar, but to use Lady Blue's words, it would make no sense to do and entail great risk when done. For truth, I hoped you might shed some light."

  To that neither of them had a response.

  ***

  Reginald Laird Fyrelm perused his latest reports with irritation and some anger. More Lesser Houses and Halls moved away from Brightcrown, and even a few from Edders. Each distancing gave greater weight to the nascent rumors of Brightcrown
censure but the rumors themselves remained absent almost to the point of nonexistence. Almost. Even more frustrating: Fyrelm still could find no reliable or even questionably reliable information on their source or nature. Both Luther Laird Edders and Savn Laird McReely sent frequent assurances that they would not abandon their alliance. Fyrelm never doubted them but their actions fostered both reassurance and anxiety. That they felt the need told him they also felt the pressure.

  The door opened and Osbury walked in.

  "I've brought your tea, m'Laird, and cakes as well. You've not been eating properly lately."

  Fyrelm smiled and accepted the tea. Osbury put the plate of cakes down beside him as well.

  "What am I to do, Osbury," asked Fyrelm, half to himself.

  "Trust in yourself, Laird Fyrelm." Osbury answered with complete confidence. "Trust in yourself and in the blood of the Great and Noble House of Brightcrown! It has weathered many storms before, and many worse than this!"

  That elicited a wry chuckle.

  "Truth indeed, my friend," said Fyrelm, "Have I grown too old for such new challenges?"

  "Nay, m'Laird! Old men are merely those who have wandered past their purpose and outlived their wits. If you've done either then call me to your side and we shall drink wine until the world makes sense."

  Fyrelm's chuckled turned into a true laugh.

  "Thank you, Osbury. You always speak wisdom when I need it most."

  Though Fyrelm meant that as a dismissal, Osbury didn't leave.

  "If I may be so bold, m'Laird, I can recall the last time you were troubled so. You bowed to what your heart and your blood told you was wrong."

  That hurt! Fyrelm wanted to lash out harsh words at that but respect both for Osbury and for the truth in what he spoke stayed his tongue.

  "Listen to your heart, m'Laird. It will guide you true."

  Fyrelm closed his eyes and fought down the memory once more. After what happened then, Osbury spoke similar words. They hurt then, too.

  "Perhaps, Osbury, I should name you Laird Brightcrown."

  "Then I'd have you bring me wine and we'd both suffer the mirth of fools, m'Laird."