by Peter Grant
“I’ll be there, Boss. D’you want me to bring over anything for you?”
“A decent-tasting bottle o’ something would be nice, to wash down these ration packs,” Bairam said hopefully.
Turgay grinned ruefully as he shrugged his shoulders. “Sure would, Boss, but you know the rules – no likker in space. Too dangerous.”
“Yeah, I can understand that. See you at nineteen.”
“See you, Boss.” Turgay cut the circuit.
Kwok had waited while Bairam spoke to his subordinate. As the rebel leader turned away from the console, the pilot asked, “May I make a suggestion?”
Bairam eyed him warily. “What is it?”
“The kids are getting cabin fever. They’re cooped up in this cramped space full of tanks and lockers and bunks, with nothing to entertain them. They’re getting bored and noisy.”
“Tell me about it!” Bairam agreed, scowling.
“There’s a lot more room in the big lifeboat,” and Kwok nodded towards the airlock set into what had once been the cargo doors. “Why not let them and their mothers move in there? It’ll ease the overcrowding in here, and they can racket around and let off steam without getting on our nerves.”
“You may have a point, but I want some of ’em in here anyway. No good puttin’ all y’r eggs in one basket, as my mother used t’ say. We’ll move half of ’em in there, an’ some of the adults too, an’ swap ’em with those in here every day.”
“As you wish. I’ll override the interlock system and keep both sides of the airlock open, so people can move freely back and forth without having to wait for it to cycle them through.”
“Yeah. Do that.”
Kwok watched as Bairam gave instructions to the six guards he’d brought with him. Two of them went through to the large lifeboat, then half of the hostages were sent after them. Twenty remained in the shuttle, along with four guards, two of whom were asleep.
When the movement was over, Kwok headed for the row of toilets set against one bulkhead. He entered a cubicle, dropped his trousers, sat down, and tapped on his unobtrusive earpiece. “Did you hear that?” he murmured.
Steve answered softly, “Yeah, we heard. You did real well. If we can keep that many of them out of the way in there, it’ll give us more fighting room in here when the time comes.”
“Yes. If you can give me some warning, I’ll see about sending a couple of my spacers through there before the balloon goes up to –”
He was interrupted by a slam! as the door was ripped open, swung violently on its hinges and bounced off the next cubicle. Bairam looked inside, pulser steady in his hand. Kwok stared at him, eyes wide, and the rebel leader grinned tightly.
“Just checkin’ ya weren’t up ta mischief. That’s why I had the locks taken off all these doors. No harm done.”
“I don’t know about that,” the spacer replied shakily. “If I had any problems with constipation before, I sure don’t have them now!”
“Ha!” With a snorting laugh, Bairam closed the door.
Kwok sat back with a long sigh. “Damn, that was close!” he murmured fervently. “If he’d seen or heard me talking…”
“Yeah,” Steve replied flatly. “He’s too keyed up. Doesn’t trust anyone, even his own guards – notice how he’s constantly checking on them? We can’t let this go on a moment longer than we have to. He could snap at any moment.” He thought for a moment. “If they have some warning before things go down, do you think your people could take care of the guards in the lifeboat next door?”
“I think so. I was about to say, I can ‘find’ a fault that needs fixing and send a couple of them through with a toolbox.” He didn’t have to remind Steve that weapons had already been concealed in the toolboxes.
“That’ll do. If the Gunny and I can plan our exit just right, one of us can take care of Bairam and anyone near him while the other takes out the rest of the guards in here. If you’ll spread out your spacers and be ready to tackle anyone we can’t deal with immediately – even if they only hold his arm to stop him shooting – we should be able to handle it when the time comes.”
Kwok sucked in his breath. “That’s an awfully thin plan,” he pointed out. “What if something goes wrong?”
“Something probably will. Murphy was an optimist, remember?” They both chuckled at Steve’s reference to the eponymous – and notorious – law. “Trouble is, if we wait too long something else may go wrong. Bairam’s wound up tighter than a spring at full compression. Sooner or later all that tension’s got to find an outlet, and up till now his outlet has been killing. I don’t think we can afford to risk that happening again. Even if conditions aren’t perfect, we’re going to have to grab whatever chance comes our way and do our best with it.”
“I take your point.”
“I’ll talk to the Gunny. Get in touch again at about eighteen. If we see an opening tonight when that Bosun comes to call, we’ll take it. We may not, of course: if conditions aren’t right there’s no point in taking unnecessary risks. However, if we… hey, wait a minute! I’ve just thought of something. Can you be at the pilot’s console when Turgay arrives, ready to shut off the artificial gravity in here?”
“I think so; but remember, the big lifeboat has its own gravitic drive generating its own artificial gravity. What we do in here won’t affect it.”
“Yeah, but if you have a couple of your spacers ‘fixing’ something in there, they can cut it off if necessary when they hear us make our move. We know how to handle ourselves in free-fall, and so do your spacers, but I’m willing to bet Bairam and his guards don’t. None of them are spacer-trained as far as we know.”
“That’s right. He sent all his trained spacers to the freighter. He wanted them to help Turgay keep an eye on things.”
“All right. Tell your people to be ready for anything.”
~ ~ ~
Governor Sirhan and the Eksalansari met the Commodore’s gig when it landed at the small airfield serving the Administration compound in Surush. As he climbed out, Wu noted a Marine officer standing slightly behind and to one side of the Governor.
“I invited Lieutenant-Colonel Battista to join us,” the Governor explained affably as he shook hands. “I thought you might want to ask for his input about points we may raise.”
“I’m grateful to your Excellency,” Wu assured him. “I’d been planning on seeing him later tonight. This will speed things up.”
He studied the Governor covertly as Captain Davis, Commander Doibro and Mr. Mixson got out of the gig. The man had the bearing of a patrician, tall, august, with a noticeable command presence; but his face was lined and his eyes were tired and strained. He was clearly carrying an immense burden, even though he was doing his best to hide it. The Eksalansari seemed much fresher, but then he was also much younger – and he didn’t have a wife being held hostage by people who were demonstrably more than willing to commit murder.
Introductions and greetings over, the Governor led the visitors to an ornate dining-room marred by plastic sheets secured over windows blown or shot out during the fighting. The carpet had been cleaned but still showed marks in places, and scratches could be felt on the surface of the long table beneath its white cloth.
“I apologize for the less than satisfactory dining conditions,” the Governor explained. “The rebels sacked this place a couple of weeks ago. Fortunately the kitchens survived largely intact. We don’t have our usual range of delicacies – the rebels plundered them – but my personal chef has done his best using what herbs and spices he could salvage, plus the contents of whatever ration packs he can scrounge and a local herbivore brought in by hunters. I think he produces remarkable results, even when limited to such meager ingredients.”
His best proved to be very tasty indeed. Appetizers of stuffed grape leaves were followed by a thick, rich lentil and vegetable soup. The main course was meat cut into cubes, marinated in a savory sauce, then flame-grilled on a skewer with vegetables and served over ric
e. Dessert was a bread pudding baked with shredded dried fruits and served with clotted cream. Water and a selection of fruit juices and soft drinks accompanied the food.
“I apologize for the lack of wine with our meal, but our religion forbids it,” the Governor explained. “We can do better after supper. We may be forbidden the fermented or distilled juice of the grape, but our faith says nothing about that of plums, pears or peaches.” He winked archly. Commodore Wu was unable to hold back a grin.
After supper they were ceremoniously escorted to a reception room. Bottles of liqueurs in various shapes and colors were arrayed along a sideboard, and the rich, strongly-scented aroma of Turkish-style coffee wafted from hotplates supporting long-handled copper brewing pots. White-jacketed waiters were on hand to hand out glasses, cups and saucers. Clusters of comfortable armchairs stood ready for the guests around low tables.
“Please make yourselves comfortable,” Sirhan invited his guests. “My personal cellar escaped the rebels’ attention, so I can offer you post-prandial refreshment. I’m just going to show the Commodore the view over the city, so he can see how much damage the rebels have caused, then we’ll join you.”
Smiling inwardly, Wu allowed the Governor to take his arm and draw him through a pair of glass-paneled doors to a verandah outside. Neither man looked at the view.
“I presume you didn’t bring me out here just to see the sunset,” Wu stated simply.
“No. I didn’t mention it in front of the others, but I think I recognize you. Didn’t you visit Karabak three years ago? You were a Captain then.”
“Yes, I did. I led a delegation to discuss increased co-operation between Karabak and the Lancastrian Commonwealth in the common struggle against space piracy. If I recall correctly, you were Minister of Trade at the time. Your department was involved in the discussions because, of course, piracy affects trade more than almost any other factor in this part of the settled galaxy. We didn’t meet with you, of course, but a couple of your people were on Karabak’s side of the discussions.”
“That’s right. Did your visit bear fruit?”
“Not much, I’m sorry to say – at least, not yet. I think what’s really needed is an exchange of officers between our Fleets, so that we can each learn how the other operates. That’ll move it out of the realm of bureaucrats, who don’t necessarily think in practical terms.”
“Ah, yes. They’re a problem here too. It’s interesting that the Eksalansari made a similar observation about our Space Navy’s bureaucracy, just the other day. He says he’d love the opportunity to serve under an officer such as your Senior Lieutenant Maxwell, and learn from him not just tactically, but in terms of leadership. He remarked how both the Marines and the Qianjin convicts jumped to obey Maxwell, not out of fear, but because they genuinely liked and respected him. He led them by example. Maxwell made a very big impression on him, and not just because he rescued him.”
“I’m pleased to hear it. He served under my command once before, and I recall him being a very good officer. Perhaps something might be arranged in future.”
“I think that would please the Eksalansari. Anyway, let’s get back to the situation here.”
“Of course.” Wu was certain the Governor’s mention of the Eksalansari’s regard for Lieutenant Maxwell had not been mere idle gossip. He made a mental note to pursue the matter when time and circumstances allowed.
Sirhan continued, “Soon after your visit to Karabak the Sultan asked me to take over as Governor of Eskishi. He felt that previous administrations here had neglected their responsibilities. I’m afraid the recent rebellion has proved him right. Unfortunately I was unable to make sufficient changes quickly enough to stave off trouble.”
“What sort of changes, Governor?”
“Mostly to do with how prisoners and ex-convicts are dealt with. Previous Administrations appear to have written off most of them as animals that didn’t deserve to be treated like human beings. In the worst cases that was understandable, but in most it’s proved counterproductive.” He waved a hand at the destruction all around them, mute evidence to prove his point. “I tried – perhaps too quickly – to overhaul the system from top to bottom. Unfortunately, those running it had become entrenched in their positions and their ways, and resisted my efforts. In that respect the cloud of this rebellion may turn out to have a silver lining. So many officials were killed, or abandoned their posts and fled, that I have a real opportunity to put new people into almost every position of importance – if I can find enough good candidates, that is.”
“That’ll be difficult, I know, because the Fleet shares that problem. I wish you every success.”
“Thank you. I’m very grateful indeed to your Marines for their hard work in helping us restore our infrastructure and re-establish basic security. They’ve been absolutely indispensable, and Lieutenant-Colonel Battista has been a tower of strength. I intend to nominate him for an individual award, and his battalion for one of our unit awards, if your Fleet will allow that.”
“The granting of the awards is no problem, of course. Wearing them with Fleet uniform will have to be approved by the Board of Admiralty, because we’re not in a treaty relationship with Karabak, but given the official nature of the Marines’ assignment here I don’t foresee any difficulty.”
“Good. That’s not the only award I’ll be suggesting to the Sultan. Senior Lieutenant Maxwell and his Marines at the supply depot should be recognized for their valor in action.”
“Thank you very much. It sounds as if they deserve it.”
“They certainly do.” He frowned. “Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for your Captain Davis.”
“Oh?”
“Are you aware that he criticized Senior Lieutenant Maxwell rather… vehemently… after the depot action?”
“So I’ve been told,” the Commodore dissembled. “I’ve only just arrived, as you know, so I don’t know all the details.”
“His conversation with the Senior Lieutenant took place over an open circuit. We heard it. It made me very angry, and when the Sultan learns about it he’s going to be furious.”
The Commodore frowned. “What did he say to anger you so greatly?”
The Governor’s lips tightened into a tight, thin line. “I quote: ‘I don’t care about the hostages. Neither does the Department of State,’ unquote. Since my wife – who’s also the Sultan’s cousin – is among the hostages presently held by the rebels, I think you can understand why that would ‘anger’ me.” He placed heavy, sarcastic emphasis on the verb.
Wu closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. Davis, you damned fool! he fumed inwardly. If you even thought that, let alone said it over an open circuit, you deserve to be shot! Aloud, he said, “I can only apologize unreservedly that such sentiments were ever aired. I assure you, they’re not those of the Fleet. If they were, I wouldn’t be here. Neither would the Marines.”
“I accept that. It’s why I’m telling you this privately instead of lodging an official complaint. I don’t want to damage our relationship with the Marines, who’ve done splendid work here. Nevertheless, the Sultan will not be amused. He and my wife grew up together.”
“I suppose there’s no point in asking whether the Sultan needs to hear about it at all?”
“In the interests of better relations between our nations I’d be willing to let things lie, particularly if you had a word with Captain Davis about his attitude. However, the Eksalansari is another matter. After all, without Senior Lieutenant Maxwell he’d be dead or a hostage himself. You can imagine he wasn’t pleased to hear his rescuer dressed down like that, not to mention the sentiments expressed about the hostages. Even if no official mention is made of the matter, he’ll almost certainly bring it up when he reports back to his father.”
The Governor’s seemingly casual choice of words, while placing a slight emphasis on a couple of them, wasn’t lost on the Commodore. “Thank you for informing me about this. I’ll ask the Eksalansari for hi
s thoughts on how the situation can best be resolved.”
“I think that might be very worthwhile. He’s a young man, but I think you’ll find he has a good head on his shoulders. Now, shall we join the others?”
As they accepted glasses of liqueur from the waiters, Wu looked around, saw Lieutenant-Colonel Battista, and inclined his head slightly. Within seconds the Marine was at his side.
“You wanted something, Sir?”
“Yes. Please have Senior Lieutenant Maxwell report to your HQ as quickly as possible. I need to speak with him urgently.”
“Er… that may not be possible in the short term, Sir.”
Wu stiffened slightly. “What do you mean?” he demanded in a low voice, careful not to show his irritation openly, moving to one side to keep their conversation private.
“Sir, he came up with the solution that allowed most of the hostages to be freed and the rebels put aboard a freighter in orbit. That process is just about finished now, and the rebels are due to leave the system tonight. I think he’s planning something concerning the remaining hostages aboard the cargo shuttle, but I don’t know any details.”
“And you allowed him to go ahead with it, even after being reminded by Captain Davis of the restrictions on our actions?”
Battista shrugged, and threw caution to the winds. “Sir, I advised him that I couldn’t override Captain Davis’ orders, but apart from that restriction I gave him a free hand. I have no idea what he’s planning, but I’ve learned I don’t need to keep a close watch on him. I’ll do better to let him alone. Whatever the problem is, he’ll find a way to solve it. Just point him at it and stand back.”
Wu gazed at him for a long moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a Marine endorse a Spacer in such glowing terms before, Colonel.”
“Perhaps not, Sir, but I meant every word of it.”