Maxwell Saga 5: Stoke the Flames Higher

by Peter Grant

  That explains why I’ve seen so few Kotai emblems and insignia among the SPS so far, Steve thought silently to himself. Most of them have probably gone to the asteroid mining project. Aloud he said, “I understand. On Lancaster, we’d say that ‘He who pays the piper calls the tune’.”

  “What’s a ‘piper’?”

  “It’s someone who plays an ancient musical instrument.”

  “Oh, I see. It’s like, if you hire the band, you can tell them what to play?”

  “Precisely.”

  They watched as Steve’s pilot expertly maneuvered the gig into the dockyard’s small craft docking bay. Steve couldn’t help noticing that most of the airlock access points were empty, and asked Lieutenant Chetty about it.

  The liaison officer shrugged. “The patrol ships that went out-system took our best small craft with them in their boat bays. Those that remain are old and less reliable. More than half are out of service for maintenance at any one time. In fact, the SPS has taken to borrowing cutters or cargo shuttles from the Orbital Authority.”

  “I see. I suppose that’s why you’ve asked for more small craft in your request for additional equipment.”

  “It must be, yes. Sometimes Orbital Control doesn’t have any available when we need them. They’re all busy elsewhere, or they’re also out of service for maintenance. It would be wonderful to have some more utility craft of our own – and more reliable ones, too.”

  They went through the airlock, to be greeted by a waiting official. “I’m Ajeet Durai,” he introduced himself with a somewhat reserved formality. “I’m part of the management team here. I’ve been asked to show you around the shipyard.”

  “Thank you,” Steve acknowledged as he shook his hand. He noted that the man wore a sandy brown turban, knotted at both sides of the head, with a silver trishula pinned to it. His thin face bore an austere, almost distant expression, and the corners of his mouth were curled as if in distaste. Is my pagan presence offending his religious sensibilities? Steve wondered, but made no comment.

  “May I ask the purpose of your visit?” Durai asked. “I mean, what do you want to know specifically about this shipyard?”

  He sounds awfully suspicious, Steve thought to himself. “I’m assessing the needs of the System Patrol Service on behalf of the United Planets,” he explained. “If the UP is to donate more ships, and upgrade your existing vessels with new equipment, it needs to be sure that your planet has the infrastructure to support them. I already know what the SPS can do out of its own resources. Unfortunately, they’re limited. If your shipyard can make up for that, the UP will be much more willing to be generous.”

  “I see.”

  Durai ushered them to a waiting vehicle. It was a typical workshop utility transport, and hadn’t been cleaned or prepared in any way – hardly what Steve would have expected for a visitor such as himself. He restrained himself from making any comment.

  “If you’ll take your seats, the driver will run us around the slipways,” Durai said. “Unfortunately, we recently sent most of our workforce to our asteroid mining project in another system, so most of our slipways are closed right now. Normally we’re much busier.”

  “Why would you send shipyard workers to a mining project? Surely they won’t have the specialized skills needed there? Oh – and where is it? I can’t say I’ve read about any new asteroid mining projects in this area of settled space.”

  Durai shrugged. “Our workers are already accustomed to working in space and in zero gravity. I presume they’ll learn the rest of what they need on the job. As for the mining project’s location, I don’t know – I don’t deal with that side of things. I understand the company’s owners prefer not to disclose it, to keep away unwanted visitors and potential smugglers or rivals.”

  That sounds like a waste of trained manpower to me, Steve thought, but didn’t say aloud. Every other orbital dockyard I’ve ever known will fight tooth and nail to hang onto its workers at any cost. There are never enough trained space workers, so they can’t afford to lose them. As for keeping the location of the mining project secret, that doesn’t hold water either. All such projects are supposed to be registered with the United Planets, to prevent conflicts with other systems and corporations wanting to exploit it as well.

  As they drove slowly down the long central corridor, keeping to the striped area demarcated for vehicle traffic in their direction, Steve glanced to left and right. As Durai had warned, most of the work stations were unmanned, their equipment idle. “It’s hard to get an impression of what you’re capable of doing when so many of your bays are empty and your workers are absent,” he pointed out. “Could you tell me about some of your more recent projects?”

  “Certainly,” Durai replied, sounding a little more relaxed. “We’ve recently refurbished an old freighter to be a combined accommodation ship and small craft maintenance center for our asteroid mining project. She’s about two million tons – larger than anything we’ve worked on before. We installed cradles in her holds to transport four of our system patrol craft, plus several mining boats converted from old cargo shuttles that we bought from various planets.”

  Steve frowned again. “I’ve never heard of cargo shuttles being used for that purpose. They’re a very different design to a mining boat. What systems did you install when you converted them?”

  “Oh, new gravitic drive systems, navigation, radar and lidar, communications, all that sort of thing.” The manager waved his hand airily. His tone was dismissive, almost as if the sub-systems were of no importance.

  “Can you give me more information about them? That’s the sort of thing the UP will need to take into consideration if it’s to provide upgraded systems for your SPS patrol craft.”

  “I’ll talk to our technical staff about preparing an information package for you.”

  Why isn’t that already available? Steve asked himself, growing more and more perturbed. They should have that sort of information at their fingertips. It’s as if they don’t care what the UP may or may not provide – almost as if it’s not important. Durai’s not taking my visit seriously at all… but why not?

  —————

  Steve returned to LCS Pickle with far more questions than answers running through his mind. As he stalked through the airlock into the docking bay, the First Lieutenant was waiting for him. He returned her salute. “What’s up?”

  “Sir, we’ve received a message from the Deputy Chief of Mission. He’s on his way up to orbit to see you. He should be here within half an hour. Also, Warrant Officer Macneill advises she has something for you.”

  “Thank you, Number One. Other than that, are all parts taking an even strain?”

  “Yes, sir.” She fell into step with him as he headed for the main corridor and swung onto the fore-and-aft conveyor. “We’re ready in all respects for departure whenever necessary. All we’ll have to do is recover our liberty party and get the diplomats back on board.”

  “That’s good news. Did you have any trouble with the local suppliers?”

  “Some of them sent goods that weren’t up to our standards, sir, despite being advised beforehand about that. We sent them back, of course. A couple of them made noises about suing us, but the SPS took care of that. Since we were paying in cash, in hard currency, there was no problem finding other vendors to provide what we needed.”

  “Very well. Our first liberty party heads planetside tomorrow, right?”

  “Yes, sir. We worked through the SPS to contract with a small hotel near the spaceport. We’ve booked several rooms for our liberty parties. Senior Chief Aznar will go down with the first group to check things out.”

  “So far, so good, then.” Steve moved towards an upcoming exit point from the conveyor. “I’ll see Warrant Officer Macneill now. When Mr. Gallegros arrives, please escort him to my office.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  The Intelligence Officer was seated at her desk, intently studying a series of images on a three-dimensi
onal holographic display. She looked up as he entered, and rose to her feet.

  “Good afternoon, sir.”

  “Afternoon, Macneill. What’s up?”

  “Good news, sir. We’ve cracked the security on all the networks. They all appear to be using the same basic setup, so once we penetrated one, the others were easy. Trouble is, I’m not sure what I’m seeing.” She gestured to the display. “Can you offer any suggestions, sir?”

  Steve sat down on the other side of her desk. “Tell me more.”

  She brought up pictures on her holographic display as she pointed to various features. “Sir, these images appear to be the shipyard refurbishing a big freighter, including constructing docking cradles for smaller craft in some of her holds. However, we didn’t get them from the shipyard’s computer systems. We got them from that temple planetside, the one to which they have a direct, encrypted connection. Why would a temple have shipyard images like that? It makes no sense.”

  Steve shook his head. “It does when you understand that the people who own the shipyard are devotees of the Kotai cult that runs the temple. Ten will get you one the asteroid mining project they’re running, out in the back of beyond, is funneling its profits back into their religion. That would explain where they’re getting the money to buy the weapons and equipment that we’re running into on Athi.”

  “Ah! So the images are evidence to the temple of their faith in action?”

  “I suppose so. Do they show the modifications they made in any detail?”

  “Yes, sir, they do. They’re a real puzzle.” She brought up several pictures in sequence, pointing to features as she named them. “They show four of the SPS’s patrol craft being docked in the biggest holds, then over a dozen cargo shuttles being loaded into a couple of the smaller holds. Some of the images show the interior of those cargo shuttles.” She tapped on several thumbnail images to enlarge them. “Their big cargo compartments have been carved into smaller ones by horizontal and vertical bulkheads. Chairs have been installed to seat up to two hundred people. They’ve also got cases of ration packs fastened to the bulkheads, and additional sanitary facilities – primitive ones, just toilets and basins, no showers.”

  Steve frowned. “They told me those cargo shuttles were being modified to serve as asteroid mining craft, but they wouldn’t need to carry a couple of hundred people to do that. What’s more, unless they supplemented it, a cargo shuttle doesn’t have the environmental system capacity to support that number of people for more than two or three days.” He vividly recalled the modifications that had been made, under his supervision, to a cargo shuttle on Eskishi, to allow it to accommodate a few dozen people for up to two months. They had made it almost unmanageable to fly up to orbit through atmosphere.

  “No, sir, it doesn’t. Next, the shipyard built four personnel pods and installed them in four of the freighter’s holds. Each appears big enough to hold up to a thousand people. They’re very primitive, just bunks racked together in six-high stacks, with a rack next to each bunk to hold a carryall. There’s basic sanitation, but no food prep facilities. However, other holds are shown full of twenty-four-hour ration packs, so I guess they plan to feed their passengers with them.”

  Steve shook his head. “Ration packs for weeks or months on end? Ours are the best I’ve come across, but even they don’t taste very good after extended use. The monotony drives you nuts. I daresay Devakai’s ration packs are no better, and probably a lot worse.” He thought for a moment. “Have you any idea how many ration packs were loaded?”

  “I can ask the computer to calculate that, sir, based on the cubic capacity of the holds filled with ration packs, plus what was lashed to the bulkheads of the cargo shuttles.”

  “Please do that. If they can accommodate up to four thousand people in those pods, we can figure out how long they expect them to be aboard by calculating how long they can feed them.”

  “Yes, sir. Next, there’s this.” Macneill brought up another image. “It looks like they loaded forty small craft into three forward holds. They’ve been covered by some sort of tarpaulins once inside the hold, so I couldn’t get a clear look at them. The way the tarpaulins drape over them, it looks almost as if they erected a pipe framework on top of each hull, then covered it to hide something beneath or inside it.”

  Steve frowned, and leaned closer to peer at the screen. “I’ve no idea. They’re cutter-size, but why on earth would they want forty cutters at a mining project? They’re general utility craft, not mining vessels.” He felt an ominous chill as he studied the image. “Besides, I doubt whether Devakai has forty cutters to spare. Look at their front panels. Showing beneath the edge of the tarpaulin, you can see a sort of triangular arrangement of headlights or other sensors, three on each side. It’s very distinctive. I haven’t seen them on any of Devakai’s cutters so far, so those things in the hold are probably something else. Look for other images that show a similar arrangement, and let’s see if we can figure out what they are.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “How many more images have you got to go through?”

  “Quite a lot, sir. I’ll be at it for a couple of days yet. There’s also a double-encrypted database that we still need to penetrate. The computer’s working on that right now.”

  “Very well. Keep an eye out for any more modifications to the ship, and see whether there are images or vid of its departure, particularly the loading of its passengers and crew. I want to get a good look at them.” He rose to his feet. “I’ve got to meet the Deputy Chief of Mission in a few minutes, so I’ll leave you to it.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  No sooner had Steve returned to his tiny office than Peter Gallegros arrived. He welcomed his guest, and offered him coffee. They both poured mugs of the hot, steaming fluid, sweetened them to taste, and sat down.

  “What’s happening to bring you up here?” Steve inquired.

  “A lot – and I’m worried about it.” Gallegros summarized what he’d told the envoy, and what he’d learned from her. “Putting all that together, I’m afraid Devakai may be trying to play us for suckers, getting all they can out of us, while doing nothing to slow down or stop Kotai depredations on Athi.”

  “You may be right. I’m finding some worrying things up here as well.” Steve took a sip of his coffee as he gathered his thoughts. “The SPS doesn’t appear at first glance to be overrun with Kotai sympathizers, but I learned this morning that half their patrol craft were hired to patrol an asteroid mining project. It’s in a different star system, owned and operated by the same people that run the Kalla shipyard. They’re Kotai adherents. They specifically asked that the patrol craft be manned by fellow believers. That’s probably why the SPS seems relatively free of them. It’s because most of them aren’t here right now.”

  “I can believe that. Many civilian government workers also wear the trishula on their turbans. If you ask me, at least a quarter, if not a third, of all government officials and employees on Devakai are Kotai adherents.”

  “Have you seen similar proportions among the general populace – those you pass in the streets?”

  “No – far from it, in fact. I’d be surprised if one in ten wears the trishula.”

  “Then it begins to look as if the Kotai have made a concentrated effort to recruit supporters among government bureaucrats, soldiers and spacers.”

  “But why would they do that?”

  Steve snorted. “Surely it’s obvious? If you want to suborn a government, and eventually take it over, who are the logical people to do your dirty work?”

  Gallegros’ eyes widened. “You mean… a coup d’etat from within?”

  “Can you think of a better reason for them to recruit so many government people? Particularly in the light of what the Kotai are up to on Athi?”

  “Ah… no. No, I can’t.”

  Steve nodded. “If you apply Occam’s Razor to an issue, it generally works. The question is, if that’s what the Kotai are up to, what do
es it mean for your mission? Are you likely to accomplish anything, or will it be so much wasted effort if the Kotai take over the planet? If they do, Devakai’s going to end up as a bigger, more intractable version of Athi. They may try to spread their faith to other planets as well. The Bihar Confederation isn’t far away. It’s got dozens of planets, most of them with Hindu-majority populations.” Is that why they loaded all those utility craft and patrol vessels onto that freighter? he wondered. He couldn’t share that information with Gallegros, of course. He wouldn’t be able to explain how he’d learned about it without giving away the ship’s intelligence-gathering role and facilities.

  The diplomat closed his eyes for a moment as he shook his head in dismay. “If the Kotai get loose in the Confederation, heaven knows how many years, and how many lives, it’ll take to contain them! Athi’s bad enough as it is.” He opened his eyes again, looking at Steve. “You know I was in the Marines, right?”

  “I didn’t know, but I figured you’d seen service from the way you carry yourself.”

  Gallegros grinned. “Yes, it does leave a mark, doesn’t it? I served for eight years. I left as a Captain to read for a Master’s degree in international relations, then joined the Foreign Service. My grandfather was in the diplomatic service, and he wanted me to follow in his footsteps. He was also a Marine officer before making a career in the Secretariate of State.”

  “Did either of you see combat?”

  “Both of us did, he on an anti-piracy assignment and I on a peacekeeping mission. I was a First Lieutenant on Radetski. In fact, there was a Spacer named Maxwell there at the same time – he dropped a bloody great rock on a group of terrorists, then helped capture a bunch of arms smugglers in orbit. Was that you?”