“Her shields are at standby; her weapons and drives seem to be largely powered down,” Weiberg said. “But she’ll probably be able to bring herself to full alert before we enter weapons range.”
“Understood,” Kat said. “Communications, raise System Command. Request an orbital slot on the other side of the planet from Glory of God.”
“Aye, Captain,” Linda said.
Kat settled back into her command chair, studying the display. Glory of God didn’t seem to be doing anything hostile, but she couldn’t help wondering if her CO would be tempted to pick a fight now that Uncanny was gone. She would certainly have considered an attack herself if she’d been in a similar position. The prospects for victory against one heavy cruiser would be far better than the prospects for fighting two.
“Contact the StarCom,” she added as the ship approached the planet. “See if there are any messages waiting for us.”
“Aye, Captain,” Linda said.
Pity we never tried to duplicate the mobile StarCom, Kat thought. The Theocracy had designed one, but it had been a grossly inefficient model. It would have come in handy right now.
“We have several message packets waiting for us, Captain,” Linda reported. “None of them are from Uncanny.”
Kat cursed under her breath. There was no way to know what had happened to Sir William and his ship until he either returned to Jorlem or visited a system with a StarCom. She found it hard to imagine a pirate base capable of standing off a heavy cruiser, but she knew from bitter experience just how much could go wrong. They were due to meet back at Jorlem now, yet there was no way anyone could guarantee a timetable.
“Download them to my console,” she ordered. “And then send a message to the planet requesting a private meeting with the president.”
“Aye, Captain,” Linda said.
Kat keyed her console, opening the first set of messages from the Admiralty. She’d half hoped and feared for orders to engage Glory of God, but the Admiralty had merely dumped the whole question in her lap. There was something wishy-washy about the response that made her suspect that it had actually been written by the Foreign Office. Destroying Glory of God was important, apparently, but so was respecting Jorlem’s neutrality. The planet was to be considered a neutral power until her government signed a treaty with the Theocracy.
So we cannot pick a fight with Glory in-system, Kat thought. And as long as she stays here, she can intimidate the locals into submission.
Kat glanced through the remainder of the message packet but saw nothing of immediate importance. An update from the war front, a set of intelligence updates that would have to be studied later . . . nothing that had any real bearing on her situation. There wasn’t even an assessment of the battleship-battlecruiser’s capabilities. She felt as if she’d been left to handle the problem on her own.
But that’s what they pay me for, she thought. I wanted to sit in the command chair.
“Picking up a signal from the planet, Captain,” Linda said. “The president invites you to dinner, this evening.”
“Thank him for me,” Kat said. “And inform him I will gratefully attend.”
Me, alone, she thought as she scanned the message. He doesn’t want witnesses.
Davidson was going to be worried, but Kat forwarded the message to him anyway. She had asked to meet the president alone, after all; he’d taken her at her word.
“Compile the list of pirate contacts,” she ordered. “Mr. XO, you have the conn. I’ll be in my Ready Room.”
Crenshaw gave her a faintly horrified look as she rose and headed for the hatch. He’d written a formal complaint into the log, listing his concerns about Kat using herself as live bait. She suspected he’d be just as concerned about her going down to Jorlem without an armed escort, although President Alexis would have to be out of his mind to try to kidnap her. There was no way he would be allowed to escape punishment, even if the Commonwealth had to detach an entire battle squadron to administer it. His own people would probably hand him over rather than face the Commonwealth’s wrath.
Five minutes later, Davidson stepped into the compartment.
“It is my duty to point out,” he said stiffly, “that going down to the surface alone is extremely risky.”
“Not as risky as setting foot on a pirate base,” Kat said. She was worried about Uncanny, although she had complete faith in Sir William. “The president may mock and belittle me, Pat, but he won’t threaten my life.”
“All that’s really needed is a kill-team to either snatch or assassinate you,” Davidson warned. “I don’t think the Theocracy is that willing to coddle President Alexis.”
“No, but any kidnapping would happen on his watch,” Kat said. “He has every reason to make sure nothing happens to me.”
Davidson didn’t seem impressed. “I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll have the entire company ready to perform a combat jump,” he told her. “If you run into trouble, we’ll be ready to jump in and save you.”
Kat lifted her eyebrows. “You do remember how many soldiers we saw around the presidential palace?”
Davidson snorted. “Jorlem isn’t a democratic society,” he reminded her. “I’d be surprised if the president hasn’t worked hard to coup-proof his regime. Reacting to any sudden crisis will probably be beyond them. It’s not impossible”—he smiled, rather darkly—“that most of his people will sit on their hands when the balloon goes up out of fear of being branded potential rebels. It’s happened before.”
“Still,” Kat said. “And don’t forget Glory of God.”
“She’ll have to drop her janissaries if she wants to take part,” Davidson assured her. “Unless she wants to start dropping KEWs into a boiling multisided faction fight.”
Kat sighed. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.”
She finished reading the intelligence briefing and interrogation summaries, then headed back to her cabin to shower and change into her dress uniform. She had a feeling that President Alexis wouldn’t care what she wore, but not turning up in full formals could be used to spark a minor diplomatic incident. It would be a petty and pointless strategy, yet it would give the locals time to bury any connections they might have to the pirates.
Bastards, she thought.
She checked her appearance in the mirror and then headed for the shuttlebay. Her personal shuttlecraft was ready to depart.
“We’ve been given a landing coordinate right next to the palace,” her pilot said as he took the craft through the hatch and out into space. “They’re warning us not to deviate from the flight path they’ve provided.”
Kat’s lips twitched. “Better do as they say,” she said. “We don’t want to make them jumpy.”
She kept a wary eye on the sensors as the shuttle entered the atmosphere and headed towards the capital. The air was surprisingly clear; the constant stream of shuttles entering or exiting the atmosphere were steered around the city. Kat noticed very few aircraft in the air, none flying over the city itself. Kat wouldn’t have been surprised to discover that the city was ringed by ground-based antiaircraft defenses, ready to shoot down any aircraft flying towards the palace. She couldn’t blame the locals for being paranoid. A single rogue pilot could decapitate the regime in a single blow.
“We’ll be on the ground in a moment,” the pilot said. “I’ll just wait here?”
“Please,” Kat said.
She braced herself as the shuttle touched down neatly; then she rose and walked to the hatch. It hissed open in front of her, allowing her to step into the cold evening air. It felt later than it actually was, despite her implants. Starship lag was taking its toll.
Kat ignored her tiredness as she followed a gaudily dressed flunky through a maze of passageways and into a small dining room. The chamber was surprisingly Spartan compared to some of the other rooms of the palace. Yet the table was groaning with enough food to feed an enti
re platoon of marines.
“Ah, Katherine,” President Alexis said. He rose and bowed to her. “Can I call you Katherine?”
“If you wish,” Kat said, silently thanking her mother for all the etiquette lessons. As hard as it was to believe, she’d met worse people at family dinners. The best way to deal with the assholes was simply to ignore them. “Thank you for meeting me.”
“It’s always a pleasure to introduce someone to my planet’s cuisine,” President Alexis said as he motioned for her to sit down. “Please, take what you like. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. We can discuss matters of state after the repast.”
Kat sat impatiently and filled her plate. Jorlem apparently placed a high value on spicy meats, cooked vegetables, and several different wines. The president took open delight in pointing to the different jugs of gravy and explaining how each of them complemented the meat, describing in loving detail precisely how they were made. Kat couldn’t help wondering if he cooked himself as she took a bite of the dish. The meat was surprisingly good, leaving a pleasant aftertaste lingering in her mouth. The wine accented the meal perfectly.
“Your cook should open a restaurant on Tyre,” she said after sampling all of the different meats. “We’re always looking for new cuisines.”
“Tyre is so much more cosmopolitan than many other worlds,” President Alexis said. “Can you believe that the Theocracy’s ambassadors refused to eat with me?”
“They’re not supposed to eat with unbelievers,” Kat said. “They hold everyone who isn’t one of them in absolute contempt.”
“Theirs is a joyless religion,” President Alexis agreed. He speared a piece of chicken with a fork and munched it thoughtfully. “Their bid to establish missionaries in missionary positions”—he snickered rudely—“will fail. Why would anyone want to join?”
Kat tensed. “You allowed them to send missionaries into your society?”
“No one will join,” President Alexis assured her.
“Don’t be too sure,” Kat said. “There are always people willing to join.”
She remembered just how many problems the missionaries had caused on Tyre. The Commonwealth had freedom of religion, but did that include tolerance of a religion that was also a disguised political movement? Should the converts be rounded up and expelled, as some had argued, or tolerated, even though a handful posed a threat to the planet itself? If nothing else, the war had made dealing with the issue a great deal simpler—the converts had been interned—but she knew there would be trouble in the aftermath.
Once the Theocracy controls the high orbitals, she thought grimly, they just enforce their will on the population.
“We shall see,” President Alexis said.
A team of maids appeared and cleared the table, working with practiced, silent efficiency. Kat felt uncomfortably full, having eaten more than she should. She promised herself a long session in the exercise compartment when she returned to the ship. She straightened up, signaling her desire to speak of different concerns. The food might have put President Alexis in a good mood, but what she was about to tell him would probably ruin it.
“So,” President Alexis said. “What do you want to talk about?”
Kat reached into her belt and removed a datachip. “We liberated a cloudscoop that had been captured and occupied by pirates,” she said. “In the course of their . . . interrogation . . . we discovered a number of contacts on Jorlem, ranging from a trio of fences to a number of recruiting agents. I am obliged to inform you, under the various antipiracy treaties, that your government is responsible for rounding these individuals up and arresting them.”
The president’s eyes narrowed. “I cannot arrest my citizens merely on your say-so,” he growled. “Do you have any proof?”
“You may read the interrogation transcripts if you wish,” Kat said. She passed him the datachip. He took it automatically. “We were not gentle, Mr. President. They were interrogated using standard mind probes.”
“We would need to see the prisoners ourselves.” President Alexis temporized.
“They’re currently floating in space, dead,” Kat said flatly. “As you are aware, starship commanders have wide latitude to deal with pirates as they see fit.”
She took a breath. “Mr. President, I have no wish to step on your toes. But if these . . . these vermin are on your planet, you have an obligation to deal with them. They need to be rounded up before more of your young men are seduced into working for the pirates.”
“We have no control over matters off-world,” President Alexis said sharply.
“No,” Kat agreed, “but you do have control over your surface. We are looking to you to deal with the problem.”
She met his eyes. “It isn’t just the recruiting agents, Mr. President,” she said. “The fences are the ones who pay the pirates for their ill-gotten gains. They’re the ones who make crime pay. By allowing them to exist, you are covertly supporting the pirates preying on local shipping—including yours. How many freighters have you lost in the last year or so? Your economy is being damaged by these people. Are you going to tolerate it?
“I am aware of your political weakness,” she added. Let him think she understood his problems, if necessary. “That’s why I chose to seek a private meeting rather than issue demands that might be overheard by your political enemies. But this is not a situation I can allow to get any farther out of hand.”
The president glowered at her for a long moment. “I cannot be seen to bend to off-world pressure.”
“There will be no open demands or threats if you cooperate,” Kat promised him. “I gave you the details. Round up the bastards and have them interrogated, then arrest any others you happen to find. You can claim full credit for smashing a pirate ring wide open. I’ll even see to it that plaudits flow in from the rest of the galaxy.”
“That and a coronet will buy me a cup of coffee,” President Alexis said. His eyes went very cold for a long chilling moment. “And if I choose to deny your . . . request?”
Kat peered at the dictator evenly. For all of his geniality, she had no illusions about just how far President Alexis was prepared to go to maintain his power. He’d happily purge and execute members of his own family just to keep his planet under control. Countless civilians would wind up dead, if he wished. Kat had a dark suspicion that some of the pirate slaves had actually been arrested on Jorlem and sold to the pirates. If he’d been able to kill her, she knew Alexis would have done it in a heartbeat.
“The Commonwealth will have no choice but to take steps,” Kat told him. “Jorlem will be blacklisted. Interstellar trade will trail off and come to an end. You will be denied access to interstellar banking or any other form of interstellar support. And if that fails to force you to take the matter seriously, the Commonwealth will have to take more . . . direct . . . action.”
The president’s face turned impassive. “The Theocracy will not be impressed by your blacklist.”
“No, it won’t,” Kat agreed. She leaned forward warningly. “The Theocracy is in no state to guarantee your security. They are losing their war. There is no way they can spare enough ships to protect you when the Commonwealth sends a battle squadron to make its feelings clear. Even if they did . . . we might greet it with unreserved delight. It would just make it easier to drive on their homeworld and end the war.”
She rose, wondering if he would try to detain her. Davidson’s mad plan to drop an entire company of marines on the palace might be necessary after all. Although it would be absolutely insane . . .
“I am quite happy to let you handle the matter and take credit for it,” she finished. “However, it needs to be done, and the sooner the better. If we don’t see any solid action being taken in the next few days, Mr. President, we will take steps ourselves.”
She turned and stalked out of the room, feeling an unpleasant prickling sensation between her shoulder blades. If looks could kill . . . she pushed the morbid thought aside as a flunky appeared out of nowher
e to guide her back to the shuttlepad; his face torn between blank servitude and surprise. No one had ever walked out on the president before, she guessed, a rude gesture by almost any standards.
It had to be done, she thought. If he doesn’t take action, those bastards are likely to get away with their crimes.
“Captain,” the pilot said as she stepped into the shuttle, “we have a flight path back to orbit.”
“Good,” Kat said. She took her seat and checked the display. The stealth drones she’d slipped into orbit at Davidson’s suggestion weren’t reporting any unexpected military moves, while Glory of God was still silent. “Any problems?”
“None,” the pilot said. “They did offer to refuel the shuttle, but I turned them down.”
He paused dramatically. “And Uncanny has arrived,” he added “She’s not alone.”
Kat blinked. “Not alone?”
“She captured a dozen pirate ships,” the pilot said. He sounded almost gleeful. “And an entire base.”
“Good,” Kat said. Sir William had done very well. “Take us back to orbit.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“There’s going to be a blarney soon,” Senior Chief Houghton cautioned.
Joel was inclined to agree. Lightning’s crew hadn’t done too badly, but Uncanny’s crew had hit the jackpot. Two days after the ship had returned to Jorlem, nine of the pirate ships had been sold after a brief, frantic bidding war. Now Uncanny’s crew was celebrating in the bars and buying drinks for their comrades from Lightning, making snide remarks all the time about how unlucky Lightning had been to choose the wrong mission.
It would be very useful, he thought, if I had been plotting to take Lightning.
“I’ll take four of the worst drunks out of here,” Joel said. “You can deal with the others.”
He yanked the loudest drunk to his feet and pointed him towards the exit, then motioned for three more to follow him. The third lunged forward, ready to fight; Joel stepped to one side, stuck out a foot, and watched the drunkard topple to the floor. Joel caught him before he could roll over and get back up, half carrying him to the door. The man started to sober up as soon as the cold night air struck his face. It felt very much as though it was going to rain.
Cursed Command (Angel in the Whirlwind Book 3) Page 29