Court-Martial (Horatio Logan Chronicles Book 2)

by Chris Hechtl

“The Emperor has no clothes. Everyone in the star system knows he is in a state of mutiny.”

  “I know. Now we are as well I suppose,” the governor said. She shook herself. “By the way, for the record President K'k'R'll has signed off on this.”

  “On this?”

  “On our mutiny within a mutiny,” she replied with a brief half-smile. “The idea is to bring pressure on Childress and Draken to stand-down. I don't think anyone wants a civil war. Obviously, this stays between you and me.”

  “That's the problem; my estimation of them is that neither of them is willing to stand-down and just go away. Everyone in Bek A knows that but no one is willing to do anything to rectify it. Until that happens, things are going to go from bad to worse.”

  “Is anyone taking Irons seriously? How will he react?”

  “That is the multibillion credit question, isn't it? First, he has to find out what is going on. I've gamed out most of the likely scenarios. My top one is that he'll send another ship to find out what is going on here eventually.”

  “What about Ilmarinen?” the governor asked. “Didn't she leave a week or so ago?” They had just gotten the news broadcast of the planned mission. Based on the estimate, they were confident the ship had departed.

  “Yes. What her mission is I don't know, but I can guess.”

  The cat's ears flattened instantly. “That bad?”

  “In a word, yes. I believe that Captain Clayton or whoever is on board is a crony of Childress. Omar will want that station secured and the ansible destroyed. I don't know how they'll dress it up. An accident? A stellar event forcing an evacuation?” His antenna and mandibles wiggled in his species form of a shrug.

  “So, Irons will get some word something is wrong just from her arrival and destruction of the ansible, right?”

  “Right. But, he can't divert much combat power to get to us. Very little really, not anything worthy of a threat to Childress and his people.”

  “That bad? I haven't seen what they have in the outer Federation really. Classified,” the cat said in disgust.

  “Trust me, I have and it isn't much.”

  “Okay, so, if a ship does come, I assume they scout?”

  “That is the most likely scenario. They will have to survive Admiral Toronto or whoever is in charge of the jump point fleet. If they do get away, they'll report back to Irons, but with the ansible gone, it will take time.”

  “Okay. But won't the ship transmit?”

  “It might. The safest scenario is to scout under stealth. But, we're set up to look for a ship jumping in. The mobile fleet will pounce on them.”

  “Okay.”

  “If they do transmit, it could get ugly for Omar since it will be additional validation of his orders to stand-down and be relieved. Right now, his people are feigning ignorance and going along with him on the pretext that it is a misunderstanding or that the orders were fabricated. Some are just slavishly obeying his and Admiral Draken's authority without considering the consequences.”

  “Lovely.”

  “From the historical record I've seen in the past plus the recent history I've downloaded, Admiral Irons isn't known for being vindictive. That means many will consider themselves covered if Omar is eventually relieved. It will be back to business as usual with no repercussions.”

  “But you think otherwise?”

  “I think Admiral Irons gave an order and expected it to be obeyed. If he doesn't go after those who refused to follow it, I know others will. Anyone who refused to follow the order will be tainted—their careers over. I'm not going to bother outgaming it from there.”

  “Okay. So, essentially many officers are playing with fire with their career. Once they get confirmation, it will force someone to act.”

  “Most likely.”

  “What about retaliation from Omar's supporters?”

  “I think some people were starting to realize that with access to the outer Federation comes a lot of room for advancement. And access to regen therapies will give just about anyone a long career in the navy and elsewhere if they choose.”

  “So, it is in their best interest in getting rid of Childress. Why don't they?”

  “A combination of shortsighted greed, cronyism, and other issues as I outlined a moment ago.”

  “Can we do anything to help this process along?”

  “We were exploring the option of building a starship to get word to Admiral Irons,” the bug replied. The governor's eyes lit in excitement. “Before you get your hopes up, the idea has been dashed or at least put on hold.”

  “Why?”

  “We don't have a hyperdrive or the tech to build one or the other necessary hardware. We do have the blueprints and access to Commander Wallengrad however. Given enough time and resources, I believe she can find a way. Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  “I seem to recall our ancestors having people just like her who also knew the ins and outs of starships but they didn't get far building our own either.”

  “Ah,” the governor replied with a sour expression.

  “For the moment, we're in a cold war. That will hopefully be sustained until Admiral Irons sends a ship to break the deadlock.”

  “But you are planning something else too, I hope?”

  “Currently? Defensive only,” the admiral stated.

  She nodded and then rose. He followed suit. “Very well, I won't take up any more of your valuable time, Admiral. I know you've got a lot of work cut out for you.”

  “Thank you, Governor. We'll do our best.”

  “I know you will.”

  Chapter 29

  B-102c

  Galiet Bailey grimaced as she finished scanning the diagnostics. “Nope, this one is junk too.”

  “Are you sure, ma'am?” a tech asked.

  The Neochimp glanced over to him. “See this?” she pointed to a series of readings. “The hyperdrive is fried. It looks okay on the outside, but she took too much abuse internally. We'd have to do a complete teardown and rebuild. It would be easier and cheaper to get another.” She shook her head at the crestfallen look on Casey's face. “Cheer up. It's a brick, but you learned something.”

  “I was just hoping we'd find another usable ship, ma'am. You know, more than one to run around, maybe even go to Bek?”

  “Homesick?” she asked sympathetically.

  He grimaced but then nodded. “Is it that obvious?”

  “No, but you can talk to people about it. I don't know what the plan is, but we'll get there. Put in a request when we do mount an expedition there. The brass will see what they can do.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” the tech said.

  “Okay, so, what else do you have for me?” she asked as she logged the hyperdrive as junk. Salvaging it would be a pain in the ass; you couldn't just feed something with a dark matter generator in it into a shredder for recycling.

  “We've got another ship coming in. Damn it! This makes twelve that came back as crap,” Casey grumbled.

  “Yeah, the drives might be shot, but we can dock them until we get parts in from Pyrax. It will be on a priority basis though, so it will be a while,” Galiet said. “Give me the specs on the ship coming in.”

  “We haven't tapped into the hyperdrive, ma'am. A salvage crew isn't even on board. She's coming in with the remote tugs.”

  “Ah. Well, I guess I'm done with this then. Do you need a hand taking this out?” she asked, resting a hand on the casing.

  “I've got it, ma'am. I've had enough experience pulling the things lately,” Casey grumbled as he called in a robot and a work crew to lend him a hand.

  “Okay. Well, put it this way. With no hyperdrive, you can't tune this ship to be a starship so you can focus on her basic systems for the moment.”

  “It just means more work later.”

  “Yeah, but at least you've got plenty of work to choose from,” she replied with a smirk. He snorted as he got to work. She watched him for a moment and then left quietly.
/>   @^@

  “Hey babe, it's me. The freighter's drive is a bust. Sorry, it's out of my hands. It needs a complete teardown; her governors are shot. Something else may be broken internally. I'm not sure without a peek, and we're not set up to do that,” Galiet's voice said.

  Her husband pursed his lips as he listened to her voice mail and used a screwdriver to adjust his prosthetic arm. One of the things the medics hated about him was that he couldn't stop fiddling with the damn thing. Too bad, he was an engineer; it was what he did. Now, if he could just get the foot to react right, he'd feel better, he thought, glancing down at his foot. He tried to roll his ankle and grimaced as it made a squeaking sound as he did.

  “Damn it, I just greased the thing,” he muttered sourly.

  He finished putting the panel back onto his forearm, buttoned up the cover and then flexed his hand. He flexed each finger in turn to be sure about the timing. They said it would take more time to get used to it; he hoped not. He missed his original parts. John might not mind having an artificial limb, but he damn well did. So did Galiet. She hated sleeping against it, and he'd seen her atavistic shiver when he's brushed her fur with his fingertips.

  Just as soon as they got a proper regen clinic up and running he was going to put in for the time off and get some cloned parts. At least the damn foot, he thought. He was tempted to get a better arm instead despite Galiet's misgivings.

  His thoughts turned to the mission and greater picture as he put his tools away. He straightened and his fingers to rub the small of his back as he checked the status board of the Harbor Station.

  They were about three-quarters back to where they were before the damn Xeno virus had struck. Even better, now that he knew from personal experience how something like that worked, he'd taken steps in the hardware to prevent it or at least minimize the damage in the future. There was something to be said about having an all-encompassing network, but there was also a real desire to live in case that very same network was used against the occupants. Hence, the air gapping of the life support systems and changes to the station networks.

  Of course, the new station A.I. didn't like it, but that was too damn bad.

  He flicked through the remotes and checked the status boards of the various ongoing projects. They were still picking up pieces on the station, rebuilding as well as expanding he reminded himself. It was not going as smooth without Horatio and his implant keys; his people were having to find work-arounds when they ran into a wall. They were still making stubborn progress however; that was the important thing. He knew he wasn't the only one to take pride in that. They had even begun salvaging ships once more, hence his wife's recent call, albeit much more carefully. No one wanted a repeat of the Xeno A.I. infection.

  Sweet Revenge continued to make regular runs between Nuevo and B-102c. The ship kept moving people and gear between the Harbor Station and star system faster than Justica could transfer them to B101a1. The balance of trade was an ongoing issue, as was ship wear and tear. The ships were still running in the red, but then again, both were run by the government. They weren't in the job to make a profit, but it would be nice to get the accountants off his back. They bitched enough about downtime and pitched a snit over every repair.

  Speaking, or at least thinking of Justica, he thought, rolling his shoulders and then settling himself, seventeen weeks ago Justica had finished taking on the last of her stores and passengers and had headed to the rapids. She had reappeared from the rapids little over thirty-six hours ago with the first load of new personnel for the station as well as civilians.

  She had left with a full load of passengers, 3,438 volunteers in her refitted holds. Needless to say, she had taken her time with the precious cargo. Such time and effort would not be appreciated by the volunteers of course. They would most likely go borderline stir crazy by the time they got out of the rapids, but they had little choice or say in the matter.

  He wasn't the only one eager to see the ship dock. His excitement was dampened with a little thread of dread however. He decided to make sure of the security arrangements once more. With what was coming one could never be too sure.

  @^@

  Lieutenant Commander Michaela Lafleur sipped her coffee as she read the latest reports. The basic station news was mixed. The good—the station was nearly back on track. They still had some rough edges, but they were functional as a space station again. The bad—they had lost a lot of good people. She'd been transferred off Justica and given a promotion to take on the station. She had mixed feelings about that.

  She took another sip of coffee as she worried about the overall situation. The good, her lips twitched. They were about to receive more supplies and personnel from home. Based on the manifest Justica had sent and that she'd already gotten through the ansible, they would most likely make up for lost time within a month. They even had the room to fit them all.

  The other bit of good news was that the latest batch of recruits from Nuevo would be shipping out soon. Having the two ships as their lifelines was critical to the function of the station. At least until they could find a way to make it more self-sufficient.

  The bad news was there was no news from Bek—no sign of ships, no resupply, nothing at all. That had her worried. She sniffed. It probably had a lot of people worried, but the brass had the war on their minds.

  The other spot of bad news were all the ships they had lined up. The salvaged ships were either docked to the station or lined in neat orderly rows off the station outside of the shipping lanes. Unfortunately, the stationers lacked the proper parts, fuel, and crew to do anything with them. They also had warehouses of salvaged components. Every piece of electronics was being rescanned for signs of the Xeno virus, a herculean task all on its own. She was tempted to suggest chucking it all into a molecular furnace to be rid of it all. Better to be safe than sorry she thought darkly.

  Her long fingers flicked to the email she'd bookmarked from a day prior. It was a progress report on the latest ansible shipment. The new ansible was en route and had just passed through Triang. The crew was taking it slow; this time they were not taking any chances with their precious cargo. They had to travel in the very low octaves of Alpha band, which quadrupled transit time just to get to rapids, let alone through them. The ship was carrying four ansible cores for the three star systems in the nexus. Each of the new packages were four times bigger for each ansible and had additional shock absorbers and dampeners to try to limit damage.

  “There is a reason they never got an ansible to Bek and Nuevo before. It wasn't just because they were so poor,” she murmured.

  “We're you speaking to me, Commander?” Echo, the station's dumb A.I. asked. His voice sounded remote and robotic.

  “No, no, just woolgathering I guess. What's the status?”

  “No sign of the Rolling Thunder, ma'am, if that is what you are asking,” the A.I. replied.

  “Something tells me someone would have let me know if there had been. This makes what, the second week she's overdue?”

  “Yes ma'am, fourteen days as of today. She entered the rapids on time and on the correct heading according to the ansible report.”

  The commander made a soft puttering sound. “So, that's not good,” she muttered, swiveling from right to left in her chair. And it wasn't. She'd been worried that Commander Sharp Wit would outrank her and therefore take over the AOR since he would be ranking officer. Now she was more worried about seeing the heavy cruiser at all.

  She would be the first ship lost to the rapids but not necessarily the last. She still had to wait another sixteen days before the ship was registered as lost. It would be a great loss and not just because one of the four water dweller helm teams were on the ship.

  “I don't get it. Justica can do it, and she's a damn freighter. What the devil happened?” she asked.

  “No data,” Echo stated.

  “I know that,” she growled as she set her cup down and got up. She began to pace in the office. �
�It doesn't make sense. What did they do, go too high? Take on an octave they couldn't handle? Get overconfident? Or hell, run into an engineering casualty? They didn't turn back …”

  “Unfortunately, I can't answer any of those questions, Commander,” the A.I. stated.

  “I know you can't and that bugs me too. Neither can I. Not knowing sucks almost as bad as waiting, hoping, and praying they make it.” She scrubbed at her face before she practically threw herself back into her chair.

  “Status on Justica?”

  “They've sent their updated manifest.”

  “I know, I just read it. I meant her engineering status. Does the captain wish for downtime? Liberty? Do they need repairs? I didn't get anything from Captain Chung.”

  “Do you wish for me to inquire? Or pass on the inquiry to the communications department?”

  “No, I'll do it,” she answered, pulling up an email. “No doubt he's busy getting ready to dock,” she said, hesitating. She hated jogging the captain's elbow but she wanted to be kept in the loop. She hated it when people assumed you knew what they intended without telling you outright. Mistakes happened when they pulled crap like that.

  Once the ship docked, the crew would be given some liberty while they oversaw repairs and resupply of their ship. If the ship's needs were light, they might find more time for liberty … unless the Neopanda was anxious to drop and run.

  If that happened, they'd drop off their cargo, pick up the recruits from Nuevo for the army, navy, and Marines as fast as they could while also taking on fuel and stores. She glanced at the numbers. A good 85 percent of the recruits from Nuevo were destined for the army. “It seems Nuevo is a true ground-pounder planet. They are going to grow the army all on their own,” she said with a shake of her head as she noted all of the recruits headed to the port early. Some were reportedly veteran army soldiers, but some were kids, raw recruits eager to get away from their mudball planet and to see the galaxy.

  If they only knew what they were in for on the trip she thought in amusement. Not that she had any intention of telling them.