Labelling Botany Bay and The Galaxian simply as ‘shuttles’ was something of a misnomer as both were capable of carrying in the region of five thousand passengers at a time but, when you were in charge of something as big as The Sundowner, it was perhaps understandable that he was dismissive of smaller vessels.
Botany Bay had successfully docked at Laxx’s orbital facility and was currently loading passengers while The Galaxian was forced to hang back and wait their turn.
“Would you like my communication people to give it a try?” Meyer asked, for once playing the role of diplomat.
“I’d appreciate that very much, Captain Meyer. We’ve already had one or two communication difficulties with The Galaxian, as you know.”
The Galaxian was a luxury cruise liner and the only ship in the operation which had so far asked for payment to take part. The captain, a woman named Hidalgo, had named some ridiculous fee for her ship’s services and Admiral Winterson had surprised everyone when he had agreed on behalf of the Confederation to honor it.
In retrospect, Ardent saw that he had had little choice. It was going to be a difficult enough task getting the thirty thousand colonists off the planet with two such ships. With only Botany Bay available it was felt that the armada would be in an impossible position- doomed to failure simply because they didn’t have enough capacity to carry passengers. With The Galaxian on-side they might just have a chance of getting the majority of people clear before the main Da’al fleet arrived.
“Very well,” Meyer said. “I’ll see what I can do. Any other concerns?”
Resnik looked troubled. “Other than that sonofabitch hanging over us like some shark waiting for its lunch to be delivered? No, other than that, no concerns at all.”
Farnese strode towards the command chair and Meyer indicated for him to go ahead.
“Loki. That’s what we’re calling it.”
“Loki? As in the comic Jacobs?”
“Norse mythology. The computer chose it. Loki the trickster. It kind of fits.”
“Yeah, real cute,” Resnik said.
“The other three are Odin, Tyr and Heimdall.”
Resnik looked askance. “And you say your computer came up with these?”
“We have call them something. Best to avoid confusion.”
“Yeah, okay, commander. I’ll let the others know. Captain, if you could get through to those other two ships, I’d appreciate it.”
“I’ll get Lieutenant Parkes to get onto it right away.”
Once Resnik was gone it was Farnese rather than Meyer who instructed the comms team to try and establish a link with Botany Bay and The Galaxian. This, in a way, seemed to Ardent to define the two men’s relationship: Farnese did all the work while Meyer took all the credit. She wondered whether Farnese hadn’t done everyone a disservice by being such an able executive officer. If he’d been just a little remiss in his duties it might have helped to highlight Meyer’s failings as a senior officer all the sooner.
She wouldn’t, of course, voice these thoughts to Farnese, however. He didn’t appreciate the suggestion that Meyer was anything other than an exemplary officer even though the vast majority of evidence appeared to point to the contrary.
Theirs was a very complex relationship, to be sure.
Ardent waited until Farnese had finished his main tasks before catching his eye. Farnese made a show of inspecting the work of some junior officers before finally coming over to her.
“What’s wrong?” his nostrils twitched.
He seemed to be anticipating her criticism of Meyer and was already preparing his defence.
But Ardent decided to take a different approach.
“I thought Captain Resnik made a good point earlier. He likened Loki to a shark waiting for its lunch to be served. I think he has a point.”
“And I’d have to agree. Loki is here to disrupt our operations, clear and simple, but isn’t likely to attack until both ships are fully loaded.”
“So what do you think we should do? How do you think Admiral Winterson’s going to tackle this? Target Loki straight away?”
Farnese gave her a look she didn’t much like. It was close to being patronising.
“No, there’s no point in that. He wants to make it as difficult as possible for them. He’ll no doubt want Botany Bay to strike out on its own as soon as it’s able.”
“What? And leave The Galaxian exposed like that. Seems kind of harsh.”
Farnese took her by the arm and led her over to one side. As he tried to compose his argument she took the opportunity to get close to him. It had been over a week since they’d last slept together and she felt herself drawn to him afresh. Up close, he had the finest eye-lashes.
“Meyer’s not here to save these people. At least, that’s not his primary goal. You’ve got to understand, if Loki is the shark then these ships are the bait. He’s going to want to split the pair of them up. Give Loki something to think about. Meyer’s not going to do anything until Loki makes her move. That’s when all of this is going to kick off.”
“But what if Loki’s successful? Loki, I mean. What if she does manage to take out one of these ships?”
Farnese frowned. “In an operation like this, you have to expect casualties. If Meyer has to sacrifice The Galaxian in order to take out Loki, he’ll take that deal all day long.”
Ardent nodded numbly, it was what she’d half been expecting but to hear it expressed in such forthright terms was, ultimately, chilling.
She said, “And there’s nothing we can do about that?”
Farnese chewed his lip. “You mean, other than the obvious?”
“What’s that?”
“A pre-emptive attack. Catch the enemy off-guard, hit her with everything we’ve got, hope to get in that one lucky shot.”
“Yes,” just the thought of it made her feel giddy. “Why don’t we do that?”
“Because it’s a terrible idea, especially considering what we have as back-up. No, that’d mean committing ourselves from the out-set. And what happens if it’s the Renheim that ends up getting taken out? No, we’re to hold off until we’re forced into a response. If it comes to saving one of those ships or neither of them, I know which one I’d choose.”
“Okay,” she said. “It just seems so very … wrong. To treat people like this. Yes, that’s it exactly: it’s wrong.”
Farnese lightly gripped her forearm, pulling her even closer. “Look, I know what you think about Meyer but we have to put that into perspective. Besides, it’s not Meyer we have to worry about now, it’s Winterson. They might talk about protecting Laxx, protecting Blackthorn but that was never his main concern. No, not really. They’re worried about how they’re going to stop these Da’al ships from progressing any further. As far as the Admiralty is concerned, we’re all expendable. You, me, Meyer, Winterson, all of us. They’ll happily write us all off if that can guarantee that the Da’al don’t get any further. Think about that for a minute.”
His words took her back. If she’d thought that their situation was grave before it looked downright bleak now.
She swivelled around so that they were facing one another.
“Do you think, that’s it then? For the time being, at least. That now, it’s just a waiting game?”
He thought about that. “Pretty much.”
“Then perhaps we should take the opportunity to think about our needs for a little while.”
At first, he didn’t seem to understand what she was talking about. But then he leaned in, close enough to whisper.
“Look, Sigrid, you’re a very attractive woman and I’ve enjoyed our time together, but things are different now. And, if you think that you can come between me and my duty then I’ve got to say: you don’t know me very well.”
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
Morton couldn’t remember where she was and thought for a moment that she was back on board the Mantis. Then reality re-asserted itself and she brushed the sleep from her eyes.
She was back in her cell. Someone was standing over her and at first she was frightened.
“Hermandal?”
“You need to get up. It’s important.”
She swung her legs over the side of her bed. She had been so exhausted by the previous day’s events that she’d gone to sleep in her uniform.
“Where are you shoes?” Hermandal asked, not unkindly.
Morton pointed to the corner of the room and Hermandal went to fetch them. She put them on without a word and then followed him out of the cell.
There was a young officer waiting for them in the corridor, his side arm held at waist height.
“Point that thing somewhere else,” she scolded and the man complied.
Then she turned to Hermandal, “Where are we going?”
“It’s Sunderam. He wants to speak with you,” but when she went to question him further he simply softened his eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t know anything more.”
That was disappointing, though the simple news that Sunderam was still alive brought a sharp sense of relief she hadn’t anticipated.
As the young officer led the way, she noticed that he was wearing the same blue sash belt which identified him as a member of Sunderam’s house. That’s why he was carrying his side arm. He wasn’t trying to intimidate her, he was there to protect her – to ensure that she got to her destination safely. The very fact that he was here at all suggesting that Sunderam still commanded the loyalty of one section of the crew, no matter how small, and for that she was extremely grateful.
The corridors were filled with groups of crewmen, all apparently armed, all moving purposefully about their duties. A few of them displayed the blue slash belt but these were very much in the minority. They didn’t seemed surprised to see her and nor did they attempt to bar her way. The mood aboard ship had changed, everything felt fresher and more urgent. Whether that was a good thing or not she couldn’t determine. All she knew was that she preferred it this way.
Still, she didn’t have a huge amount of faith in their guide’s proficiency with a weapon and was glad that no one challenged him.
At one point they had to stop to let a group of men come past. By the look of them, they had been involved in an altercation of some description. A number of them were wounded, one of them quite badly – he looked to have been stabbed – but when she tried to offer help, Hermandal discouraged her by lightly squeezing her arm.
They had more pressing matters to attend to.
Morton didn’t like it but she was willing to go along with it – for the moment at least.
They met Sunderam in one of the senior officer common rooms. It was similar to one of the regular crew areas but better appointed and more luxurious. Sunderam was sitting at a desk surrounded by packs of medical equipment. His skin was grey and lifeless and he looked like he hadn’t slept for several days.
Upon drawing closer, Morton quickly surveyed the boxes of supplies. Along with various dressings and astringent sprays, there was a container of blood coagulant and a surgical staple gun. She pretended not to notice that Sunderam was favouring a wound in his left hand side.
“What happened?” she asked without looking directly at him.
“I got careless, that’s all.”
“Looks like you might be needing some medical assistance yourself. Want me to go and get someone?”
He eyed her with a combination of discomfort and resentment. “Are you always this reassuring of your patients?”
She located a pack of surgical gloves and started pulling them on.
“Professional courtesy, that’s all. I’m still a prisoner, remember?”
“The situation around here is still very fluid. Terms like ‘prisoner’ don’t mean a great deal at present.”
“Depends which side of the bars you’re on.”
Morton indicated for Sunderam to raise his arm so that she could inspect his wound. She cut away part of his tunic so that she could see better. He’d been hit in the side with a plasma round but, by the look of it, the round appeared to have passed through without causing too much damage.
“I take it that your dispute with the captain has yet to be resolved.”
“We’re not winning but we’re not losing either. We might be somewhat out-numbered but we have managed to take back the life support facility. Stop Mahbarat’s lot from venting our atmosphere anytime soon.”
“That’s always very reassuring,” Morton picked up the surgical stapler. It was fully loaded. “But what about the good captain himself. What’s happened to him?”
Sunderam dropped his head and Morton detected the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“He’s in there,” Sunderam indicated the doorway directly behind him.
“How did he get in there?”
“That’s his day room. He barricaded himself in there with most of his senior officers.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t follow. I thought you just said that you were ‘outnumbered.’”
Sunderam was about to speak when Morton fired the first staple into his side. It was a few seconds before he was able to continue.
“We may be outnumbered but I at least have the advantage of being able to trust the people I’m working with.”
Morton discharged two more staples. “Go on. I’m listening.”
“Mahbarat has representatives of five separate houses to answer to. That’s a difficult enough balancing act when things are going well – must be a nightmare when things are going badly.”
Sunderam winced as Morton administered two more staples in quick succession.
“Nearly finished,” she said before firing three more. “That should do it.”
Sunderam slumped forward, his hands braced on his knees.
“Anyway, late last night, Mahbarat suffered something of a setback when a number of his bridge officers rebelled. Unfortunately, that rebellion failed.”
Sunderam stopped short of using the word ‘mutiny’ even though that was what they were effectively talking about. It was a taboo word among all the space faring races, regardless of what side you were on.
“So, he’s still alive, then? Mahbarat?”
“We’re not sure. After the rebellion, he insisted that all his senior officers surrender their weapons. Then he had them handcuffed to their work-stations, so that if any of the crew decide to move against him they’ll do so in the knowledge that he’ll execute the head of their house.”
Morton finished dressing the wound with surgical tape. “He’s taken his senior officers hostage then. Is that what you’re saying?”
“The ones he hasn’t already killed, yes. Although I doubt he had much choice in the end: once you’ve lost the trust of your senior team – well, there’s no going back from that.”
Morton took another look at the door. It was scorched and speckled in several places from where it had been subjected to blaster fire.
“And so what are you doing sitting out here?”
“Playing the long game. There’s been various bursts of gunfire during the night. I’m hoping that once we do finally get in there they’ll have pretty much sorted things out between them.”
“I can’t believe that you can be quite so cold blooded.”
“Nothing to do with me. Captain Mahbarat is still the senior officer in command of this vessel. If he believes that his officers have been disloyal then it is up to him to discipline them however he sees fit.”
Morton was impressed by Sunderam’s logic if not by his ruthlessness. By sitting back and letting events take their course he hoped to be able to avoid any accusations of mutiny being levelled at him, a heinous crime in the eyes of the Yakutian high command. Yakutians were programmed to follow the orders of their superiors unquestioningly. But what was one supposed to do when the captain started slaughtering everyone around him?
“Couldn’t you have acted sooner? Try and avert all this bloodshed?”
“As I have pointed ou
t: we of the House of Attrition are in the minority. Besides, he was the one who barricaded himself in there in the first place. I suppose eventually we’ll have to breach the door and see what the damage is.”
He really had thought this one through. With her background in post-traumatic stress, Morton could see that it wouldn’t be too difficult to portray Mahbarat as having suffered some kind of psychotic episode. Which would explain why he had turned on his executive officer first. It all made sense. In the final review, this would seem to have nothing to do with Sunderam’s membership of the House of Attrition and everything to do with Mahbarat’s mounting psychosis.
And, if Sunderam played this cannily enough, she could even see him receiving plaudits for the way he’d handled the situation. It sounded like just the kind of nightmare scenario a military court would be only too keen to see the back of. It wouldn’t do to have the Yakutian chain of command coming under scrutiny.
“So, what happened? Was he as good as his word? Did he shoot them all?”
“No idea. As soon as the shooting started, they took out all the surveillance cameras.”
Sunderam sat up, peeling off what remained of his tunic, revealing his rugged physique. He nodded to one of his attendants who brought over a replacement tunic. The attendant took the old one then began tidying up Morton’s clinical waste. He placed each item into a clear plastic beaker which vaporised them. He waited for Morton to remove her gloves before vaporising these also. Watching this process allowed her to turn her back on Sunderam who was still in the process of dressing. She might well be a doctor but she was also a woman and this was a Yakutian ship.
By the time she’d turned back, Sunderam had managed to arrange himself in a more natural position, but there was no mistaking the strain behind his eyes.
“So, how long are you going to leave it?” she pointed her chin in the direction of the door.
With an effort, Sunderam eased himself off the desk.
“No time like the present.”
He must have been in a lot of pain when the simple act of standing was enough to leave him glassy eyed.
Act of War Page 31