* * *
Patricia Okon finished her preliminary report on the suspected loss of the Kensington Star. She upgraded it from "possible loss" to "certain." It would not make her employers happy, or at least those responsible for handling the inevitable claims from the families of lost crewmen. Aside from the cost of the ship and cargo, the insurance premiums were going to be a financial hit P&Y could well have done without.
That wasn’t Okon's job to worry about, though, and she didn't. Her job was to find out what happened.
She wasn't sure of Karla Lupa, the only survivor and one who’d had some prior involvement with the League that her record didn't indicate. Okon found it hard to believe that Lupa had just happened to be picked up by the Tokarev brothers, who had their own history with the League.
Okon briefly considered the alternate possibility. Perhaps Karla Lupa worked for the Tokarevs, and it was a false flag operation by the Cyrilgrad pirates, intentionally trying to pin the recent ship disappearances on the League. It might have been even more than that, possibly a Coalition intelligence operation.
Too many possibilities. Not enough solid data.
Either way, Okon submitted the report she had so far, including the interview with Karla Lupa. Then she quit for the night, content that she was doing her job.
She might not have been so content if she knew her company's systems were one of many compromised by a third party.
* * *
Through the liquid-crystal 2D monitors built into his officer's wall, Admiral Hartford was treated to a view as if he were looking out a window. Pluto Base's work continued apace, and they were quickly reaching the point when the operation would commence. Its progress was marked by all the ships showing on his monitor, while the Trifid Nebula was a splendid backdrop to the sight. A quiet, pleased thrill went through Hartford at that prospect.
A tone at his door prompted the admiral to turn back from the view. "Enter," he called out.
Through the door came Commander Yvette Aristide. The tan-skinned woman from the world of Juares was his liaison with State Security external operations, or the agents of the state who operated outside of the League's current control. "Admiral, there is a complication."
Hartford kept a sigh from forming in his throat. There were complications in any endeavor, he reminded himself. "Describe it."
"Intelligence sources indicate that a crew member of the Kensington Star escaped our capture of the ship," Aristide said, her accent distinctly Francophone Caribbean. "Our role in the ship's capture has been indicated by the escapee, and an investigation by the owner is underway, with the support of government authorities on New Cornwall and Hatfield."
Hartford frowned at that. "Our Marines were thorough. No life pods were launched from the ship or its shuttle. How could someone have escaped?"
"We are still analyzing the situation," said Aristide. "As things stand, my guess would be that we will find the ship short one EVA suit."
Incredulity was Hartford's initial response. "You believe they ejected themselves into space?"
"That is the most likely method, yes. State Security will be investigating to ensure there is no treason among the troops observing the captured crews."
The idea was astonishing. What kind of person would be so desperate to escape that they would take such a risk? Hartford was impressed. "Have you checked the list of captives against the known roster of the ship?"
"I have someone on that already," she said. "I felt it necessary to speak to you immediately, however."
"Yes, for good cause." Hartford returned to his seat and slipped deep into thought. There must be a way to turn the situation to his advantage. "At this juncture, discovery would mean disaster. We’ve put too many resources into this operation to scrub it. We’ll have to adjust." He folded his hands together and set his index fingers against his chin. "It appears we may need to arrange to eliminate the survivor."
"Would that not raise suspicions?" Aristide asked, her curiosity evident.
"Potentially, but perhaps not. The important thing is to discredit the escapee. Make their escape seem like collusion, not fortune. The disappearance can be made to look like a guilty pirate slipping away." He thought of something. "Do we know who rescued the survivor?"
"Our best assets attribute it to the Tokarevs of Cyrilgrad."
Hartford chuckled. "Ah, excellent. Their anti-Social attitudes are well-known to this sector. It shouldn't be hard to make it look like this is an endeavor to discredit us. There are worlds that would prefer that to the truth."
"I'll make the arrangements with Commander Li."
"Excellent. And interview the Kensington Star crew to find out what you can about the escapee. I’ll authorize permission for them to be given extra rations for cooperation. I must know more about this person. They sound quite formidable."
"Yes, sir. Permission to be dismissed?"
"Granted."
She left, leaving Hartford to his thoughts. It was, all things told, an unwelcome complication, but one he would adjust to. His plan was still intact and his chance of success nearly assured.
Just before he was ready to depart his office, a message came in from Aristide. It was in two parts, marked high priority.
The first was an additional tidbit from the investigation by the owning company: their internal security division had just authorized a corporate craft to depart New Cornwall for the planet Harron. Hartford was familiar with the detestable place. He also knew it was reasonably close to the system where they’d intercepted the Kensington Star. He would have to speak to his intelligence assets and ensure they investigated.
He held that thought upon review of the second part, a personnel file from Kensington Star. "Karla Lupa" was a cargo hand with a background that, the more he looked at it, the more he was certain was a legend. A cover identity.
Curious. Very curious indeed that someone using a legend bore such fear of capture by the League that she was willing to risk dying alone in the void. That made identifying her all the more important. Hartford relayed her geneprint to the database for State Security.
When he got the result, his curiosity was gone, replaced by determination, even need.
There would be no half measures. Hartford would insist that External Security throw everything into making sure they captured the survivor.
It is as if the universe itself is teasing me. He gazed at the geneprint match in the database and the attached profile. Another operation put in jeopardy by that woman. This time… this time, I will have her. I will not let her ruin my plans a second time!
12
Henry was having his morning coffee at the hangar access door when Piper, Brigitte, and Cera came tottering back to the ship. "A fun night, ladies?" he asked, his voice a little louder than usual.
They gave him a much-deserved death glare.
"We're not due anywhere, so you'll have a chance to sleep it off."
"Wanker's enjoyin' this," Cera grumbled under her breath as they went by at the speed and gait of particularly lethargic zombies.
Henry had expected the three to be out all night, getting up to the kind of thing spacers usually did when in port. He was more surprised to see Tia come in, looking like death warmed over. "You didn't join them, did you?" he asked, truly curious at the prospect. Tia usually didn't go for the port call girls' night out that Cera typically organized.
"An old friend met me. We had things to catch up on," she answered, rubbing her eyes. "I lost count of how much Thanh with Scotch I had."
“Ah, yeah, that stuff can catch up on you. Have any actual blood left in your bloodstream, or are you combustible now?"
"Hell if I know," Tia grumbled.
Henry almost asked if she was okay. It was clear she had other things on her mind than the hangover from too much alcohol. "Well, go get rehydrated. We don't have any calls for pickups yet, so there's no need to rush out."
"Planned on it."
She went on. Content everyone was back
, Henry headed toward the ship. He finished the last of the coffee and felt the remaining mental cobwebs of sleep finally clear from his mind. Aside from the prospect of Vitorino having more cargo for them, Pieter wanted the rest of the day to complete an inspection of their Lawrence drive, and Henry had no reason to deny him. He instead considered getting with Felix and Yanik to inspect the Shadow Wolf's weapon systems.
He'd just about gotten to the ramp for the mid-starboard cargo hold when Felix came rushing from the other starboard ramp, a frightened look on his face.
"Felix! Felix, what is it?" Henry called, having to run to catch up before Felix got to the door. "What's wrong?"
"Jules," he said. "They're arresting Jules."
* * *
The taxi dropped the two off down the road from the mission. The driver refused to go the whole way the moment he saw the black helicars in front of the old church. Henry and Felix rushed up as quickly as they could. The vehicles were mostly unmarked, except for one emblazoned with the seal of the Republic Security Service.
Most of the vandalism was gone, cleaned up by hard work the previous day, but the mission was crawling with people in dark uniforms, searching every corner, every nook and cranny. Each had a police insignia on them. Two of them stood near Jules, who was handcuffed and sitting quietly in a pew.
One of the uniformed men at the door stopped the two from advancing farther. "You must leave," he said. "This institution is being searched for anti-constitutional materials."
"The only things you'll find here are hymnals and Bibles," Felix said. "What's going on?"
"We ask the questions," another of the dark-suited men said. He approached and flashed a holographic ID, identifying him as Inspector João Travada of the Security Service. "What is your connection to this place?"
Henry suspected coming here was going to get them into trouble, too, but he couldn't abandon Jules, and Felix certainly wouldn't. "Reverend Rothbard is my brother," Felix said.
"I see. Then we will have to take you in for interrogation as well."
"He's a member of my crew, and we work for Minister Vitorino," Henry said, hoping that might give pause.
It didn't. The only response was a small smile. "I see. This does little to help you. We do not answer to that corrupt man. We answer to Minister Caetano, and she personally ordered this raid. We have actionable intelligence that Faith Outreach Mission is part of an anti-constitution organization in league with the Coalition Intelligence Service."
"That's bullcrap!" Felix shouted. "You're just picking on him because—"
Henry grabbed him. "Felix, not another word," he barked.
Felix gave him a fierce, frightened glance but said nothing. More and more of the uniformed people were starting to gather around them. A number had pulled their firearms from holsters.
"You are careful," Travada observed. "And working for Vitorino, I assume you are James Henry of the Shadow Wolf?"
Henry was not gratified at the idea that the Lusitanian Security Service had any interest in him, even if it was a distinct possibility, given his link to Vitorino. Since there was no point in denying it, he nodded. "I am."
"We have questions for you, Captain," Travada said, "in connection with our investigations into the Minister's business dealings, and now, it seems, your personal connection to a possible enemy of the state." He made a gesture, and two suited men approached them from behind while others lifted firearms to ready positions. "We are now taking you into custody. Hand over your weapons, and you will receive them back, should we release you."
For a moment, Henry thought Felix might fight. He had little respect for any of the more authoritative governments in neutral space, and a fierce belief in natural rights. But after exchanging a glance, both pulled their weapons carefully from their holsters—Henry's from the hip, Felix's at the small of the back—and gripped the barrels to offer them to their captors.
"Wise men." Travada nodded and smiled. "I assure you, if you are innocent, we have no intention of holding you. The same goes for your brother. Now, if you will please follow me."
* * *
The individual sleeping quarters for the mission were sparsely furnished, given how many were empty for want of permanent personnel. Henry was separated from Felix and assigned to one under guard. Their commlinks were taken, as well, to be held by their guards.
Something about the situation didn't feel right. Granted, a lot didn't, but beyond the fact that Lusitania's semi-authoritarian government had them in custody, their behavior was off. By reputation, Henry imagined the RSS would have at least carted them away wordlessly, not held them in place. On top of that, they were far more polite than usual toward suspected "enemies of the state" or "foreign operatives."
What is going on? Henry stared out the window at the barrio when he heard the door open. He turned and watched two armed, suited men enter. They flanked the entrance and waited.
The third figure to come in was a woman of striking appearance—some would even say beauty—with a brown complexion and dark hair. Her blue eyes glistened, fierce, cold, and utterly impersonal. She wore a business suit with trousers, the color a deep green that matched the green on the Lusitanian tricolor flag pins she wore on her lapels.
Behind her was a thirtysomething man in similar business dress with the same pins on his lapels, carrying a digital tablet of his own.
Henry almost did a double take. It was Minister Cristina Caetano herself.
"James Alfred Henry," she said, her Portuguese accent thick and rich. "Formerly Lieutenant Colonel James Henry, Coalition Defense Force. You know who I am. This is my chief of staff, João Carvalho." She motioned to the man accompanying her.
Henry nodded in recognition of the greeting. "Hello, and the rank is major," he corrected quietly.
"Only due to the terms of your discharge," she said. "Which, let us be honest, Colonel, was not deserved." She pulled one of the chairs to the table, sat, then motioned for him to do the same. "We have something to discuss."
Henry sighed quietly as he considered the gesture then decided accepting it was safer. He went to another chair and sat, feeling very much like a man lowered into a shark tank inside of a cage that was more rust than metal. "I pled guilty," he reminded her. "I'm responsible for the testing failure on the Laffey."
"You did. There are many reasons why a man in your position would have." Caetano folded her hands together. Her blue eyes bore down on him with the intensity of a laser, scrutinizing him extensively. "Threats against friends and comrades. Perhaps another form of blackmail. Or appeal to patriotism, I suppose, to protect the honor of the Coalition Defense Force at the expense of your own."
All of the above. Henry shifted in the chair. "I'm afraid I can't talk about it," he said, knowing his expression was giving something away. "And I have to admit, there's not much left in me in terms of patriotism, really."
"I would expect not. Patriotism must be earned. The state must provide for the nation to prove itself worthy of their loyalty. It must defend them, their honor, their lives. The Coalition failed you, as it has failed so many others."
"Can't deny that," Henry said. "But still good people in it. Good people everywhere."
"So there are," Caetano conceded. "Do you see yourself as one of them, Colonel?"
"That's Captain, not Colonel, Madame Minister," Henry corrected. When Caetano didn't react with hostility, he shook his head. "And no, not really. If I were good, well, I wouldn't be where I am today. I can say that." An unkind thought came to him. I'd be imprisoned on Lambert's Lament, spending thirty-hour days mining ore.
"I see. Interesting. You regret whatever your arrangement with your superiors was. You do see yourself as dishonored and degraded." Caetano nodded at him in understanding. "I see value in occasional pragmatism, but I admit that I can sympathize with such. Compromise can so often lead to letting others undermine what is right. What is needed." Caetano smiled at him. "I wish you were a Lusitanian, Captain."
"
I'm not, and honestly, I'm not sure I like judging people by where they came from."
"Given the files on your crew, I would think not." Caetano brought up a digital pad. "Your first mate is a failed socialist revolutionary. Your second mate, a Saurian draft dodger. A couple of League defectors, and your friend Felix Rothbard is a fellow cashiered CDF officer… yes, you have quite the crew, don't you? Including some who still have prices on their heads." Caetano gave him a thoughtful look. "Indeed, I could attain quite a lot of favor in Thyssenbourg and Rand if I were to turn Tia Nguyen over to the Hestian government—"
Despite everything, Henry reacted with anger, jumping from his seat. "They're good people, and they don't deserve that!"
Henry's outburst prompted Caetano's guards to pull weapons. Even Carvalho stood, as if ready to defend Caetano from physical attack. She held a hand up, still smiling and thoughtful. "You are loyal to your people, Captain. Very loyal."
"They're all my crew. Hand-picked." Henry glared into those cold blue eyes and remained standing, not allowing Caetano's guards to intimidate him. "Damn right, I'm loyal, and they deserve better than they got."
"Just as you deserved better," Caetano observed. "Well, I cannot help but respect your protection of those under your charge, Captain Henry. But I must do what I must to protect my people. My entire world."
"Does that include letting your followers ransack a church?" Henry asked heatedly.
Caetano shrugged. "An excess of patriotic passion. It cannot be controlled but merely channeled." She leaned forward. "Now, sit down and let us get to business, yes? I have decided I can work with you."
However much he didn't want to work with her, Henry had a feeling he wouldn't be allowed to say no. Usually, one didn't say no to people who had a gun to their best friends’ heads or threatened to sell their second-in-command to people who would humiliate and kill her. He obeyed the request to sit. "I can't imagine I have a choice."
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