Breach of Faith

by Daniel Gibbs

  "While the Coalition's suddenly been decapitated," Henry added. "Making it vulnerable to further attacks. They put a lot of effort into arming those stolen ships. I'm betting they had plans to use them, either directly or through their new neutral allies. Sure, they'd be no good in a direct fleet battle, but they'd be well-equipped to start entering Coalition space and interdict commerce while the neutral worlds' fleets tied down the CDF's local forces."

  "True. Then we have been blessed by Allah."

  "You mean, we got lucky. If this had worked, the League would end up conquering all of us. All of Sagittarius."

  "Yes, I suppose we did," al-Lahim began. "It helps to believe God is keeping watch over our efforts. That He will see us to the victory we need to save our homes."

  Henry shook his head. "I don't quite agree. But I won't say any more to offend your sensibilities."

  "I understand, perhaps more than you know." Al-Lahim took another drink and waited for Henry to do the same before he continued speaking. "I suppose the darkness of the galaxy affects us all differently. For some of us, faith shields us from the terrible things we must see or even do. For others, it becomes hollow, something of a sham."

  Henry shrugged. I am not getting into a theological discussion. "So you still haven't said why you wanted to meet," he said. "I'm guessing it's not about arrangements for my special passenger?"

  "The ship I'm preparing will be ready soon, and I've made arrangements for her transfer to be done with care," he said. "I have other matters I wanted to bring up."

  "Like?" Henry shot him a sarcastic glance. "Don't even try to bill me for those Hunter missiles."

  Al-Lahim let out a laugh. "And bankrupt you? No. I won't make the League's job so easy, Captain. I mean to discuss your situation."

  "Right now, we're looking good. The Lusitanians are covering our repairs and refueling, and they're going to provide us the tribute I need so the Mek'taman Tash'vakal don't come hunting us."

  "I'm gratified to hear it, but that's not what I'm thinking about," al-Lahim said. "The League won't forgive this."

  "Yeah, the lady from Hartford's recordings made it clear they know who we are."

  "Commander Yvette Aristide. She is ruthless and vicious. She'll do everything she can to ensure your death," warned al-Lahim. "You'll have to avoid any world where the League has any sway."

  "I already figured that. I imagine the list of worlds is about to shrink, but it's still going to put a crimp in our available jobs."

  "It will. But I'd like to help with that."

  Henry knew immediately what he was talking about, and shook his head. "Oh, no, I'm not… this is a recruitment pitch, isn't it?"

  "You could be a valuable asset for the CIS," al-Lahim said. "We'll pay you fairly well for transport services."

  "And you'll send me into gauntlets of pirates and League people pretending to be pirates," Henry retorted. "I don't mind occasionally picking up someone for you or running a package on the side, but I'm not doing this full-time. I'm not doing that to my crew. We're going to have enough problems with the League after us as it is."

  "Then you might as well enjoy our protections too." Since it was clear he wasn't winning Henry over, al-Lahim sighed. "You're one of us, Captain Henry. You fought for the Coalition. I'm asking you to come back home. Fight the good fight again."

  Henry crossed his arms, and a hostile little smile came to his face. "That might've worked fifteen years ago," he admitted. "But you’ve forgotten how it ended for me. I was drummed out of the service. Humiliated and degraded. That tends to stick with people, doesn't make them want to sign up again, you know?"

  "The Laffey." Al-Lahim let out a sigh. "Captain, I told you we had suspicions. What if I told you more? That certain segments of CIS intend to investigate the matter and get to the truth? The truth that, I think we both know, would exonerate you."

  "I'd say it was years ago, and there's no point in bringing it back up, except to try and play the sympathy card with me." Henry's voice was heated. He felt an old, familiar anger and struggled to keep it down. Al-Lahim didn't deserve to be the target of it, not over something he had no involvement with. "I'm an independent ship driver, and that's all I'm interested in being. You want me to move a cargo or passenger, I'll consider it, if the pay's right. But I'm not serving the Coalition again. That's a bridge burnt down a long time ago." With that, Henry stood up, wanting the conversation over. But first, he drew a pair of one-escudo notes from his wallet and set them on the table. "For the tea. Have a good day, Major."

  Al-Lahim looked at him intently. He let out a disappointed sigh and nodded, leaning back in the chair. "Inshallah," he murmured.

  Henry bit back the skeptical remark that came to mind, remaining silent as he walked away.

  Al-Lahim watched Henry disappear into Cardoso Station's commercial district and took another drink from his tea. He'd hoped that maybe all of this would finally do it, and he'd get Henry back into service. More than minor jobs. But it was clear there was too much bitterness.

  "He said no?"

  The speaker had an upper-class English accent straight from New Britain. Al-Lahim nodded to the new arrival at his table. The man had a plain appearance. It was part of his job. "Indeed," al-Lahim confirmed. "I'm afraid you came out here for nothing, Colonel Sinclair."

  Colonel Robert Sinclair, CDF Intelligence, shook his head as he took a seat. "I have other reasons to check things out."

  "Your ship is nearby?"

  Sinclair grinned. "The Oxford is a jump away. It'll be fine." He glanced around. "Looks like things are returning to normal around here?"

  "They are, in fact, better than normal. Our plan was overtaken by events, but we've wound up with what we hoped for: a democratic Lusitania. Ascaro will be tough on some matters, but with popular fervor backing her, I believe we’ll at least get Lusitanian support, if not outright belligerency."

  "That's a relief. Lusitania coming around will shake things up in neutral space." Sinclair took the tea offered by the waitress and sipped at it, savoring the flavor for several moments. "As for Colonel Henry, we can give him more time. We knew going in he was not going to be brought back easily."

  "I'm not sure you can bring him back at all," al-Lahim remarked. "Even without his bitterness, he would see it as against the interests of his crew."

  "Time may change his perception. The League's hostility too. We're not worried about it." Sinclair took another drink and asked, "Are there any loose ends?"

  Al-Lahim nodded. "There may be one."

  "Give me the particulars. I'll see what we can do," Sinclair said as he smiled. "Then you can tell me how Kaiya's doing before I head planetside."

  Sinclair found he rather enjoyed returning to Gamavilla. The architecture, the people, the climate. It was a far sight better than the cold climes he'd endured growing up in the Pennines of New Britain. His hometown of Garrigill, named for a village along the South Tyne back on Earth, was along the Tyne River of New Britain. It was beautiful but could also get rather cold.

  As much as he enjoyed the sights, however, this wasn't why he was present.

  The National Gardens were not far from the center of the city. An expanse of trees, flower lane, soft grass, and other green things, it was a big green blotch in eastern Gamavilla, roughly fifteen kilometers in area. Sinclair stood among the familiar sight of New British azaleas, enjoying the scent and admiring the skill of the Lusitanian government's gardeners.

  A figure walked up beside him. A glance around showed they were the only ones present. "Lovely flowers," Sinclair said aloud. "They grow pretty well on Lusitania. A bit faster than I'd imagined possible."

  "Indeed they do, sir." Beside him, Mufasa el-Kabir didn't even look his way. "It can be as much an art as science, and you know how weather can encourage or dampen things. Bad weather keeps the flowers from blooming. And then you get some unexpected good weather—"

  "—and they open right up," Sinclair finished. A small grin came to his
face. "Sometimes even when the gardener didn't plan on it."

  "It can even perturb him a little," el-Kabir agreed. "But a good gardener accepts that, sometimes, things turn out your way by a higher will. God likes flowers too, after all."

  "That he does." Sinclair turned away. "Take care, old chap, and I look forward to seeing how your gardens bloom now that the weather's so sunny."

  El-Kabir nodded and turned in the other direction.

  Once he was gone for a while, Sinclair walked along until he found a set of exotic flowers indeed. Canaan roses, they were called, brought directly from Earth and transplanted without engineering to the soil of Canaan. The natural soil wasn't quite right, however, and most of them died. Only a handful didn't. In the end, roses had to wait for the settlement of Tyrrhenia and New Washington to make a comeback.

  All except that small handful. A mutation in their genetic code allowed them to better process the natural chemicals in the soil of Canaan, giving them a unique burgundy tone. It was hard for them to grow anywhere but Canaan.

  He leaned down to take in the smell. To an observer, he appeared to be enjoying the rich fragrance—helped by the fact that he truly was. His hand touched the fertile soil, as if to examine it to see if it came from Canaan or was artificially made. After a few moments, he pulled his hand back.

  With a final little smile, Sinclair walked away. His hand slipped into his pocket and dropped the data chip he'd just palmed from the soil into the embrace of the scan-protected inner pocket of his trousers. This will keep Lieutenant Tamir quite busy for a few days.

  It's nice to see you doing so well, friend, Sinclair pondered as he walked through the garden. It's a hard thing, missions like this. It’ll be years yet before you can come home. But it's good work. He thought of the crest of Clan Sinclair and the motto of the noble Scots he called ancestors. "Commit thy work to God." And He will bless it, as he's blessed yours, Mufasa.

  It amused him a little. The League had picked a corrupt trade minister to be their man, and went for the elaborate, direct takeover. Given their rhetoric, he imagined they'd understand soft power better. The ceremonial power of a head of state, properly directed and nudged, could work for a lot over time. Thanks to the League's failure—and what Sinclair was pretty sure was a touch of divine intervention— that timetable was shorter than they'd planned, but it was for the best.

  Lusitania's democracy would be saved. It didn't matter whether or not they joined the Terran Coalition, so long as they were a free world with free people. That’s what will stop the League in the end.

  31

  Felix and Miri were waiting when Cristina emerged from the infirmary. She was in a basic suit with tinted glasses and a headscarf covering her head. So long as she didn't speak, nobody would recognize her if they saw her, which was the point.

  "Al-Lahim's got your ship ready a couple of docks down," Felix said. "They're heading straight for Tyrone, a world in the Coalition. Once you're there, you can find a liner to Brasilia."

  Caetano nodded. "I have all of you to thank for your hospitality," she said. "And you, Mister Rothbard, have my apology for the harm I caused your brother." She sighed and shook her head, guilt apparent in her expression. "I hurt so many in my zeal. I wanted to stop them, to destroy them from within, but—"

  "Yeah, I get that," Felix said. "You were out-fascisting the fascists to try and trick them. Your end goal was good, and sometimes that's all you can try to do with life. Make the end something worth it."

  They walked together to the port airlock and stepped out. The Cardoso Station repair crews were on break and would continue to be so for the next ten minutes, giving them a plentiful window to slip Caetano away without witnesses. Al-Lahim met them at the exit from the dock. "Miss Silva," he said. "Your ship awaits."

  "Thank you."

  "As for the rest of you," Al-Lahim focused his eyes on Miri. "Are you sure you don't want a ride back to Coalition space yourself, Miss Gaon?"

  "I have plans, Abdul, although I thank you for the offer," she answered. "Perhaps I may find you for such a trip, if those plans don't turn out."

  "Keep checking in, please. The Director would have my head if you came to harm."

  Miri laughed and shook her head. "I appreciate the loyalty, I do, but I would be very cross with her if she did that."

  "I'll pass that along," al-Lahim said warmly. "Major Rothbard, Miss Gaon, farewell."

  "Goodbye, Abdul," Miri said. She gave him a small goodbye hug, and they said nothing more. Miri and Felix watched al-Lahim and Caetano depart the dock.

  "So, what are your plans?" asked Felix. "Going to take up Tia's offer for a new ID?"

  "Well, Karla Lupa's certainly going to require retirement," Miri said. She kept the grin on her face. "I do have quite a bit of money saved up. I could take a vacation, I suppose. I hear the Acevedo Islands are lovely. Miss Lopez and some of the others from your ship are heading down today, I overheard.”

  Felix chuckled. "They are, but you won't see me going. I'll be fine staying up here helping to oversee the repairs. For now, though, I'm going to see what the grub on this place is like. I hear good things about the Othmani mutton."

  "It's quite tasty."

  Felix answered that with a nod and left the dock himself. Miri turned back to look over the Shadow Wolf, repairs still in progress from all the damage she'd endured. She is a fine vessel.

  Things were feeling a bit back to normal in Henry's office. The crew was planetside enjoying a hard-earned leave, save for Felix, who was more interested in staying aboard and checking out Cardoso Station, as well as Yanik, who thought leave was frivolous.

  Henry stayed aboard as well. The Shadow Wolf was his ship, and he wanted to watch over her repairs. It also gave him time to look over the vessel’s finances. They were better than he'd worried they'd be, mostly from the Lusitanians insisting on repairing and refueling her. The admiralty had even rearmed his ship, providing the needed parts and ammunition to get her weapons back to full functionality, with a few extra modifications that would be sure to help them down the road. He’d also given everyone a generous bonus so they could thoroughly enjoy their leaves.

  But operations like these relied on work. Every day spent in dock without cargo to move was a day of lost money. Unfortunately, he’d lost one of his most high-paying clients with Vitorino dead. Their earning potential was going to suffer. Factor in the increased wear on the ship from all of the high-G, long-duration maneuvering with the fusion drive, and the Shadow Wolf could be looking at hard times.

  There was a knock at the door. Henry glanced up and said, "Come in." The hatch slid open, and Miri entered. "Ah, Miss Gaon. Good to see you. Figure out your plans yet?"

  "I've been thinking," she admitted. "I'll have to construct a new identity, of course. Karla Lupa is retiring."

  "Of course. Going to remain a spacer? Or are you heading home?"

  "Oh, I'm not going back," she said. "The League will want my head even more now. No, I'd like to keep moving."

  "Well, they want mine too now, so we're in the same boat." Henry glanced back to his digital reader. "Tia can help you get a new ID. I’m sure she’ll sign you back up with the ISU too."

  "I know. It's the issue of a job that I'm thinking about."

  "Oh?"

  "Yes." Miri took the seat in front of his desk and settled her hands in her lap. "A ship like this is supposed to have a crew of at least fourteen, isn't it?"

  Henry nodded. "Captain, First, Second, and Third Mates, Astrogator and Astrogator's Mate, a medical doctor or physician's assistant, Engineer and at least two Engineer's Mates, two helm operators, Communications operator, and at least two crew for manning the cargo holds. The ship's built for twenty crew."

  "And you're at eleven now."

  "We make it work," Henry said. "Cross-training and prior experience go a long way toward that." He gave her a curious look. "So how can I help you?"

  "I suppose I should just get to it," Miri began. "The
League wants me dead, and now it wants you and your crew dead, so I don't pose you any further harm. I'd like you to consider me for your crew."

  Henry folded his hands on the table and appraised her with a careful look. "Well, I suppose Tia did talk us up by bringing up my sticking to proper ISU scale.”

  "It's not the pay. Honestly, Captain Henry, I could retire for the rest of my life on the money I have in my accounts. But I don't see the point in it." Miri crossed her arms in front of her as she stared at him intently with piercing eyes.

  "Because you figure all of the money in the world won't save you from the League."

  "I have to be lucky all the time. They need only to get lucky once. They’d have an easier time if I became a stationary target," Miri pointed out. "My reasons for being a spacer still stand. I don't wish to become a privateer, and your ship is the best match for what I'd like."

  Henry considered her words. They were still short-handed, and he did have enough funds for hiring on another hand. "It may not be permanent," he warned. "My flexibility's gone, thanks to the League. I've lost one of my big employers."

  "I know. And if things don't work out, I'll find something else. But I would prefer serving with you."

  "In what position?"

  Miri smiled. "Well, I've got astrogation training from my CIS days, although I never specified it in my prior legends. I've spent the last five years working on ships. I honestly think I could justify asking to be your Third Mate."

  Henry nodded. The truth was he'd been planning on asking Felix to take up that position in a few months, once the crew finished getting used to him. "Astrogator's Mate is also available."

  "True, but filling in your command staff makes the most sense." After a moment, Miri's expression changed, showing realization. "Ah, I think I understand. Your friend Felix. You want him to be the Third Mate."

  "I was going to ask in a few months, yes.”

  "Well, he does have seniority on the crew over me. I won't object, but if he says no—"