An Airless Storm: Cochrane's Company: Book Two

by Peter Grant

  “I submit that we are all frustrated because, deep down inside, we know this. We feel the weight of loss when our people die, but we cannot reveal it to those around us, because we must maintain a façade of confidence and determination. The Patriarch suffered loss among his loved ones, yet never showed emotion. We strive to follow his example – yet we are not him. We do not have his indomitable, remorseless strength of will. That, perhaps, is why he chose a Council to take over the leadership of the Fatherland Project. He knew that none of us, individually, could match him; but perhaps all of us, collectively, could do so. By surrendering our collective judgment to a small minority, I believe we have departed from his vision. Our anger and resentment should be focused, not on Agim, Endrit and Fatmir, who I believe are truly doing their best, but on ourselves, because we have failed to live up to the Patriarch’s trust.”

  “Well said, Gjon!” another said, and there was a general murmur of approval.

  Agim allowed the discussion and recriminations to continue a while longer as he thought fast, trying to put together an argument that would convince the doubters. He sensed Fatmir and Endrit were growing frustrated enough to throw up their hands and quit. He could not allow that. He needed them too much.

  At last he stood. “I have listened to you, brothers, and given you the chance to speak your minds. I have not attempted to silence those who dispute my competence, nor have I tried to impose my will on yours. To do either would be to dishonor the Patriarch who appointed me. Yet, I submit, you are not being fair or just.

  “We are not running a business. We are fighting a war. We did not seek this conflict. If Hawkwood had not interfered with us, we should never have engaged in hostilities with them. Never forget, they fired first. They stole our asteroid prospector robots and the asteroids they had beaconed for recovery, and destroyed the ship we sent to collect the latest batch from Mycenae. Our Patriarch himself approved striking back against them, and accompanied our destroyers. Tragically, we lost both him and our ships. After such a disaster, there could be no turning back. To do so would be unfaithful to the man who told us, ‘Do not let your enemies strike fear into you. Instead, strike fear into them! Hit back at them! Show them that for every blow they direct against us, we shall return it ten times harder!’ He reinforced that lesson during his life, and in his death. That is precisely what Endrit, Fatmir and I have been preparing to do.

  “I think you fail to grasp the nature of war in our age. We are separated from the scene of conflict by many light years – unimaginable distances. It will take weeks for a request for guidance or orders to be sent from a battle front to Patos, be debated in this Council, and our reply sent back. During that time, the situation will inevitably have changed. The enemy will have acted, or withdrawn; our forces will have had to be resupplied, or reassigned elsewhere to respond to an enemy initiative; or any one of many other things. It is simply impossible to exercise tight central control. Instead, we must select the best possible commanders, and trust them to lead the fight locally in accordance with our overall guidance.

  “In asking your permission to lead the fight myself, with the help of Endrit and Fatmir as my lieutenants, I was following that principle. Sometimes news comes in, or events occur, that require a rapid response. If I must summon this Council every time, and brief you all, and wait for your decision, then work out how to implement it in practice, that will add days to our response. That is too long in wartime – and make no mistake, we are fighting a war, for our very survival as a people!

  “The same applies to using the patrimony of the Fatherland Project to fight this war. I have not concealed from you how we have used it. You approved that in advance. However, you have not allowed for the fact that, in war, there are casualties. We have suffered them, as well as the enemy. It is to replace those casualties that I seek more funds. This is not throwing good money after bad. It is, if you like, throwing good money after good, because in war, one must expend one’s resources to win. One must equip one’s forces with the tools they need to triumph, and replace the tools that will inevitably be broken in the process. The side most willing and able to do that, usually wins.”

  The debate went back and forth for over an hour. Eventually, Agim used his most powerful argument. “Brothers, if you wish, I shall resign my position as Chairman. You may elect someone else, better able to exercise the responsibility the Patriarch vested in that position. You have but to say the word.”

  That silenced much of the opposition. Most of the Council were older men, no longer able to take an active leadership role. If they replaced Agim, it would have to be with Fatmir or Endrit, the most able of their members; but they were already associated with him. Slowly, bitterly in some cases, the councilors were forced to accept that they had no real alternative. By a narrow majority, they renewed Agim’s mandate, and his assistants’, and gave him what he had requested; the right to draw on the patrimony of the Fatherland Project for more funds to replace their losses.

  He knew the Council would not continue to support him indefinitely. He had to produce results, or face the real risk of being replaced. Time was not on his side.

  Perhaps, if the kill team can dispose of Commodore Cochrane, that will be a sop to their concerns, he thought as he drove home that evening. If not him, then perhaps some of his staff. I must meet with them before they leave tomorrow morning and re-emphasize that part of their mission, perhaps give it a higher priority. If we kill the equivalent of the Council on the enemy’s side, surely our Council must recognize that as a victory?

  18

  Consultation

  CONSTANTA

  Caitlin Ross returned to Constanta at last, traveling in company with a civilian from Qianjin named Chen Huan. She brought him with her to report to Cochrane about her activities.

  When the initial formalities were over and they’d settled into comfortable chairs, each with coffee or tea according to preference, Caitlin began, “It’s a long story, sir, and I can’t yet report full success; but Mr. Chen and I have covered a lot of ground between us. We figured it was time we briefed you about it, before going on to the next step.”

  “By all means. Which Qianjin agency or department do you represent, Mr. Chen?”

  “Ah… I don’t, Commodore. I work for a different organization.”

  “I see.” Cochrane understood at once that Chen must be a member of the Dragon Tong. “How did you make contact with Lieutenant-Commander Ross?”

  “Your official request for assistance in researching the background of the Albanian Brotherhood, in the light of the problems they’re causing, was forwarded to my organization. Since we deal with such issues on a more regular basis than our Fleet, it was felt we would be better suited to work with the Commander.”

  “I see.”

  Caitlin took up the thread. “I spent months going through all available records on Qianjin, sir. There weren’t many of them, and a lot of connections had to be made by inference rather than by a trail of evidence. The Brotherhood are very secretive about themselves and their operations. That’s made worse by the fact that our particular problem children broke away from the larger Albanian Mafia over forty years ago. No-one was sure why. I decided the best way to figure out what they’re up to would be to find out what brought them to where they are today.

  “While I was doing that research, Mr. Chen was going through interplanetary criminal records, trying to locate convicted criminals or expert witnesses who might be able to tell us more. I’ll let him tell that side of the story.”

  “Thank you, Commander.” Chen sipped his tea, then set down the cup. “The Albanian Mafia is made up of clans, family groups. It seems the breakaway faction was originally part of the Bregija clan. Over the years, we’d run into enough Bregijas and their allies to have heard about the split, but not why it happened. The man behind it was Bashkim Bregija. He came up with an idea so out of the ordinary that the rest of the clan refused to consider it.”

  “What wa
s it?” Cochrane asked.

  “He called it the ‘Fatherland Project’. He planned to build up funds by stealing high-grade asteroids and processing them for precious metals and high-value minerals. When he’d accumulated sufficient money, he wanted to buy a planet.”

  “Buy… oh, I get it – at one of the regular United Planets auctions?”

  “Yes, sir. Exploration companies find a planet or star system potentially offering a good return on investment, whether through exploitation of natural resources, or colonization, or both. They do a full survey, post the results for interested buyers, then auction it off to the highest bidder. That’s usually done through the UP, which grants title to the planet or star system to the buyer. The purchaser gets exclusive exploitation and settlement rights. Bashkim planned to buy a planet, then settle his own clan there. He would probably have thrown it open in due course to settlement by other Albanians who were prepared to accept his leadership.”

  Cochrane nodded. “That’s somewhat like how the New Orkney Enterprise – or, rather, its parent planets – gained the rights to the Mycenae system. The First Families from the New Orkney Cluster found and explored the system, then set up NOE to exploit it. All right. Please go on.”

  “Yes, sir. After a lot of searching through criminal records, I found that a dozen Albanian asteroid smugglers, members of the breakaway faction, were arrested in the Kagamit system about twenty years ago. They were all sentenced to life imprisonment with hard labor, to be served in the asteroid mining and processing industry there. That seemed like a lead worth pursuing for more information. Fortunately, we have some… influence… in that system, so we were able to get permission to speak to them.” He gestured politely to Caitlin to take over once more.

  “Thanks, Huan. Sir, we traveled to Kagamit aboard my courier ship, and spent a couple of days reading through court records of their trial, looking for anything we could use. They’d refused to testify in their own defense, and wouldn’t answer questions. The court eventually ordered the use of truth-testers, but even then, they revealed as little as possible. That counted against them when sentence was passed. Instead of getting a shorter sentence, they were classified as unrepentant habitual criminals, and imprisoned for life.

  “We arranged to go out to the asteroid mining project to talk to them, and got permission from the authorities – with the help of a hefty bribe, disguised as a good-behavior bond – to offer them a deal if they’d cooperate. It took a lot of persuasion…”

  KAGAMIT

  “If you help us, we’ll help you.” Caitlin looked around the five convicts seated on the other side of the table. All were handcuffed and in leg-irons, visible evidence of their official status as ‘incorrigibles’ and ‘troublemakers’. They stared back at her, their eyes impassive in their lined, prematurely aged faces, showing the hardships of twenty years’ brutal labor aboard an asteroid processing and refining ship.

  “We’ve made a deal with the Kagamit authorities,” she went on. “If you tell us what we need to know, they’ll transfer you to a medium-security prison planetside. It’ll be a lot easier and more pleasant than this place. Provided you don’t make trouble, you can stay there; and if you serve five years there with no disciplinary infractions, they’ll consider promoting you to a minimum-security facility. You can serve out the rest of your sentences there, in as much comfort as you can expect from a prison system. You’ll have to earn that through good behavior – but you won’t get the chance unless you help us.”

  The oldest prisoner spoke. He was gray-haired, iron-faced, his voice gravelly and hoarse from an old injury to his larynx, evidenced by a jagged, uneven scar on his throat. “How do we know you speak the truth? What is to stop them sending us back here after you leave?”

  Caitlin looked at the tall, craggy figure of the Warden of the convict facility aboard the refinery ship, seated at the head of the long conference table. “Sir?”

  The Warden’s face twisted in distaste. “As far as I’m concerned, all five of you can stay here until you die or rot. Such chances should only go to those who’ve behaved, and you haven’t! Unfortunately, that’s out of my hands.” He brought up a document on the screen against the bulkhead. “That’s the official letter these two brought me from the Ministry of Justice. It guarantees what she said, as you can read for yourselves. Why they’d be so stupid as to trust you in a soft prison planetside, I don’t know. I suspect they’ll find out the hard way that they were wrong about you. Still, that’ll be their problem, not mine – until they send you back here, that is, because I don’t think you’ve got enough sense or self-control to stay out of trouble down there.”

  Caitlin couldn’t help smiling quietly to herself. The Warden’s attitude in telling the prisoners about it was probably a better guarantee of the letter’s authenticity than anything else.

  The five prisoners all nodded. One said quietly to the others, in Albanian, “I don’t trust them, but if we refuse this offer, we know our fate. We shall die here, just like our seven comrades who have already died working on this hell-ship.” He clearly did not know that translation software on Caitlin’s and Chen’s comm units was interpreting his words, relaying them to their earbuds.

  “Why not remain silent, and follow their example?” their leader asked, also in Albanian. “If these people are lying, we have nothing to lose by not talking.” He turned to Caitlin, reverting to Galactic Standard English. “Why should we cooperate? More than half of us are already dead. Why should Kagamit change how it treats us, and why should we believe that they will?”

  “I can’t persuade you of that, and I won’t be here to guarantee it,” she said evenly. “However, I’ve done my best to ensure that the arrangement will be honored. I should also point out that my patience is not inexhaustible. There are four other groups of Albanian asteroid thieves and raiders, imprisoned on other planets.” There weren’t, but the prisoners didn’t need to know that. “We came here first, because you’ve spent the longest time behind bars. If you won’t talk, we’ll try the next planet. I’m willing to bet that out of the five, we’ll find at least one group willing to talk to us.

  “Also, consider this. We already know enough about Bashkim Bregija and his ‘Fatherland Project’ to be sure you were part of it. We don’t need you to tell us what he was doing; we know that. We need to know why he was doing it; to understand his motivation, which drives the Brotherhood to this day. If we know that, we might be able to resolve our conflict without too many more casualties. The Brotherhood’s made so many enemies that, unless we find a way to end this conflict soon, all the clans of the entire Albanian Mafia may find themselves targeted. Do you want that much blood on your hands? – because that’s what your refusal might lead to.”

  Chen added, “There’s another thing. Your Brotherhood commenced full-scale operations about six years ago, after spending four decades building up the resources it needed to do so with smaller operations, such as the one during which you were captured. In the last few years, it’s taken in at least a hundred billion Neue Helvetica francs.” The five men on the other side of the table sat up straighter, eyes widening as they heard the figure. “That’s all come out of the pockets of people, corporations and planets from whom it stole asteroids. You can understand why they’re angry about that, and want to stop it any way they have to – if necessary, by wiping out the Brotherhood altogether. All of you must still have family members in the Brotherhood, even though they’ve had no contact with you. Do you really want your entire line to be wiped out, root and branch?”

  Caitlin put in, “You might also ask why the Brotherhood hasn’t spent any of that money to help or support you. A few bribes in the right places might have made your lives a lot easier – maybe even saved the lives of some of your comrades. Money paid into your prison commissary accounts might have helped you live more comfortably. None of that happened, because Bashkim Bregija insisted that every single franc had to be hoarded for his ‘Fatherland Project’. You�
�re irrelevant, as far as he’s concerned. Your sacrifice here means nothing to him. That’s proved by how he and the Brotherhood have ignored you, ever since you were caught.

  “As to why I think Kagamit will treat you better, if you cooperate…” She took three small, hard objects from her pocket and rolled them idly onto the table. The prisoners’ eyes widened as they saw the gold taels, small oblongs of yellow metal stamped with their weight and the mint that had produced them. “I’ve always found that honey attracts more flies than vinegar, and these get more cooperation than threats. Wouldn’t you agree, Warden?”

  He half-sneered. “If the Minister lets you post a bond against the good behavior of some convicts, that’s his concern. I don’t imagine you’ll get it back, even if they don’t disobey regulations again – which seems to be a sport with them, so you’re even more sure to lose your money.”

  “So, either way, the Minister gets his money; and in return, you get your chance at a better life,” Chen told the convicts. “Don’t be so foolish as to throw it away. You’ll never get an opportunity like this again.”

  “All right. What’s it to be?” Caitlin challenged them as she scooped up the taels and returned them to her pocket.

  The leader glanced at the others. “Can we talk alone?” he asked.

  Caitlin stood. “We’ll come back in ten minutes.”

  She and Chen followed the Warden out of the room. He closed the door, and stood glowering at the chained convicts through windows in the partition as they turned to each other and broke into animated conversation. “You know they’re going to ask for more,” he pointed out bitterly. “Scum like this always try for everything they can get.”

  “If they give me what I need, I’m willing to bargain with them,” Caitlin replied. “I daresay a deposit to their commissary accounts might be arranged, or something like that. You can handle that for us, can’t you? I’ll pay any processing fees involved.”