A Dark and Dirty War, page 15
“A message from Consul Forenza, sir. His agents on Galadiman report significant Confederacy of the Howling Stars activity with the arrival of four ships sailing as a group more than a week ago. They’re not sure but based on observations taken from the surface — all four are in low orbit — one of them differs from the others and could be the missing luxury liner. Mister Tarrant’s people in the area concur.”
Chief Guthren pumped his fist in the air.
“Yes!”
“Reply the following — Task Force Luckner will enter the Galadiman system and expects to begin active rescue operations within eighteen hours of this message’s date-time stamp.”
**
“Ah, Zeke. Good timing.” Kowalski smiled at Holt’s image on her display. “We heard back from the Shrehari ambassador just now. His government agrees with Task Force Luckner operating in the Protectorate Zone to rescue Athena. It came from Kho’sahra Brakal himself, apparently. He also asked why a famed warrior like Dunmoore was stripped of her former rank and remains a captain even today.”
“Grand Admiral Sampaio must have loved that.”
“I couldn’t say. The CNO was a little irked by it, that I did notice.”
Holt chuckled. “What is it with these admirals who blame Siobhan for stealing their thunder ten years ago?”
“It’s not so much stealing their thunder as it was questioning the entire conduct of the war from her perch at the College. Oh, she did it subtly, but enough of the senior flag officers understood her meaning. Of course, certain truths shouldn’t be shouted from the rooftops. It makes people uncomfortable.”
“Then the next few weeks will be distressing for a lot of people around here. I just heard from the Colonial Office. Their agents, as well as Tarrant’s informants, believe Athena is in orbit around Galadiman, and not coincidentally, Task Force Luckner will shortly arrive at the planet’s hyperlimit. Siobhan called it.”
“As usual. Anything new from the SecGen’s office?”
Holt shook his head. “Word about the demands and threats has been forcefully quashed at Lauzier’s orders. Whoever blabs will end up in an SSB cell. But I suspect the newsnets’ wall of silence on the hijacking is about to crumble. Apparently, the SSB rescue effort is underway, if we can believe the latest whisperings around Geneva, and that’s good propaganda for the government.”
Kowalski let out a bark of laughter. “And it’ll come too late. But do they even know where Athena is?”
“Ah, now that’s still the question. I don’t doubt they have sources in the Zone and among the criminal class we can’t tap.”
“Just as we do.” She chuckled. “Perhaps in the person of Enoc Tarrant, our sources intersect.”
“Probably, though he’s a smart man and won’t allow either the Navy, through Siobhan, or the SSB to find out.”
**
“Bridge to the Commodore.”
She put down her reader and tapped her communicator. “Commodore here. What is it?”
“Vuko just emerged at the hyperlimit. Captain Drex is demanding to speak with the senior executive in the system. He’s using our secure frequency and encryption.”
After searching her memory for the shipping schedules, she frowned.
“Vuko isn’t due at Galadiman for at least a month. As far as I remember, she should be on her way to Abaddon.”
“Yes, sir. Shall I put him through?”
She repressed a sigh. Drex was competent as a transport captain but didn’t have what it took to command a fighting ship, and something about his manner and attitude mildly irritated her. But the board of directors hired him and were happy with his performance at hauling goods across the Zone for transshipping into Commonwealth smuggler hulls.
“Please do.”
A few moments later, his face materialized on her day cabin’s primary display.
“Commodore.” He inclined his head respectfully. “Thank you for taking my call. I came to tell you of a potential problem.”
“Then speak, Captain.”
As he related events at Kilia Station, her facial muscles tightened, deepening the seams around her eyes, nose, and mouth.
“Dunmoore.” The name came out as a hiss. “How is it possible?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I couldn’t do anything about her boarding party storming through the airlock behind station security. Obviously, she either convinced or coerced Enoc Tarrant into helping her. And yes, she has my navigation logs, but not the secret database, so she knows about Vuko’s habitual ports of call. However, I visit so many star systems, none will seem more interesting than another. Besides, she left Kilia several hours before I did, so I can’t see how she could follow me here.”
“You fool.” Her voice lashed out with such power that Drex visibly flinched. “Dunmoore perfected commerce raiding tactics during the War. She was waiting for you at Kilia’s heliopause and most assuredly spotted your departure vector when you went FTL for Galadiman. You’d have been better heading in another direction and making a dogleg halfway through.”
“But that would increase travel time, and I thought the senior officer here should be told about Task Force Luckner as soon as possible.”
The Commodore’s eyes widened further. “What did you call it? Luckner?”
“Yes,” Drex stammered, unnerved by her intensity. “One Reconquista class cruiser, three Voivode class frigates, and an Argo class corvette.”
“How is this even possible,” she whispered to herself. “Dunmoore turned into a washed-up senior captain after the war, and now she’s back in command of a formation bearing that cursed name?”
Then in a louder voice, “You’ve almost certainly led Dunmoore here. I’m sure of it because I know her.”
“They couldn’t see me cross the heliopause, sir,” he protested. “Not without knowing my departure vector from Kilia Station, and the only one capable of tracking me when I left was a Shrehari science vessel.”
“You mean a Tai Zohl ship.” She frowned. “Is it possible...”
“What I wonder is how the Navy obtained permission to enter the Zone, sir.”
“It doesn’t matter how. What matters is Dunmoore followed you, and she’s at most a few hours behind.” A quick frown. “We will discuss your future later. Cycle your hyperdrives as quickly as possible and scram. You should be in the Abaddon system by now, so that’s where you’re headed. Report to the senior executive there, tell them everything you told me.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Commodore, out.” She cut the link, mind adrift, as she searched for a plan while silently cursing Dunmoore. “Think, Lena, think. This operation is almost over anyhow. Your squadron certainly can’t stand against hers.”
She understood that if she even hinted at fighting a Navy formation of that strength, her crews would mutiny. They understood only too well the sort of broadside they’d face, having served in just such vessels during the war, perhaps even the very hulls now bearing down on them.
A single missile volley from all five, and it was goodnight. Putting a figurative knife at Athena’s throat and negotiating her escape was out of the question. The contract stipulated that the liner be ‘rescued’ by the same people who hijacked her once those targeted by Lauzier were taken.
No, the only option was letting Dunmoore recover Athena, and too bad about the folks on Lauzier’s list who were still aboard. Since this reincarnated Task Force Luckner would drop out of FTL in the same area as Vuko, her sensor techs would see the emergence signature, even if they were running silent. That would be the signal to remove her people from the liner and leave.
Her sloops were faster than a Reconquista cruiser or a Voivode frigate, and together, they could take on a mere corvette. She would make her escape intact with the primary conditions of the contract fulfilled. And, there was the bonus of three dozen warm bodies for the auction block, people who represented everything she hated about the government that tossed her aside.
The Commodore quickly gave her orders, and even before Dunmoore’s ships appeared, she’d already thinned out Athena’s mercenary crew, leaving one shuttle attached to the airlock for the remainder. They’d ensure said airlock was easily accessible for Dunmoore’s boarding party.
Too bad she couldn’t afford to face her nemesis one more time. Dunmoore took what was rightfully hers, precipitating an early and forced retirement after missing the commodore promotion list cut-off for the last time.
Still, cashing out her Fleet pension and stashing it away in various numbered accounts had been a good move. Now, she could thumb her nose at the Navy and not worry about anything, provided she retained anonymity. The Commodore smiled at her reflection in the mirror across from the day cabin desk. Let Dunmoore watch them leave, knowing she couldn’t catch up. No need for any taunts or threats. She’d fulfilled her part of the contract and would soon earn a nice bonus.
For a moment, she wondered about warning Lauzier, then dismissed the idea. The latter’s reaction upon facing a Navy boarding party would be more believable if it came as a total surprise.
— Twenty-Three —
“All ships present and running silent, sir,” Chief Cox announced from the flag CIC’s combat systems console. “Salamanca is scanning Galadiman’s orbitals on passive.”
The minutes ticked by while Dunmoore caught her fingers dancing on the command chair’s arm several times.
“Yes!” Cox swiveled around. “We have her.”
He pointed at the starboard secondary display where an image of Athena as she looked fresh out of the slipways was displayed side-by-side with her twin, orbiting a planet.
“No doubt about it, Skipper,” Lieutenant Commander Zakaria said as the image of the orbiting Athena zoomed in on the name painted on her hyperdrive nacelle. “She’s the one, and the ships orbiting around her correspond to the images sent with the distress signal.”
“What the hell?” Pushkin pointed at the display. “There’s a shuttle undocking from Athena.”
“The presumed hijackers are lighting up, sir. Emissions consistent with sublight drives spooling.”
“You think they spotted us dropping out of FTL?” Pushkin turned toward Dunmoore. “If Vuko made it ahead of us, they might have been scanning this arc of space on the assumption we were following.”
“Could be. Any sign of Vuko?”
A few seconds passed, then Zakaria shook her head.
“Nothing that Salamanca can pick up. None of the ships in orbit currently visible correspond to Vuko’s emission signature.”
“Let’s give it one pass.”
Several minutes later, “That shuttle just entered the trailing sloop’s hangar bay, Skipper.” Then, “Sublight drives flaring. They’re breaking out of orbit, leaving Athena behind.”
“Meaning they definitely spotted us dropping out of hyperspace, which in turn proves Vuka got here first and whoever is in command heeded Drex,” Pushkin said.
“But how could they know we were in close pursuit?” Lieutenant Commander Zakaria asked. “Surely Vuko didn’t notice us at Kilia’s heliopause.”
“Someone on the other side is wise to the Skipper’s tactics, sir, the ones she used against Shrehari shipping during the war,” Guthren replied. “That’s the only explanation.”
Dunmoore hesitated for a fraction of a second.
“Chief Cazano, transmit the order up systems. Commander Khanjan, take us to Galadiman at maximum acceleration commensurate with a safe orbital insertion. Our objective is Athena.”
“What about the pirate sloops?” Pushkin asked.
“We won’t catch up no matter what, and our orders are to retrieve Athena and her passengers. Track them until they go FTL and note their vector. Not that it’ll do much good. If Chief Guthren is right, whoever commands that squadron will make a dogleg halfway to the heliopause just in case.”
Cazano raised her hand. “All ships confirm up systems and are ready to sync navigation with the flag.”
“Navigation orders are going out now, Skipper.”
“Gregor, warn Salamanca that they’ll provide the boarding party to secure Athena. I want every precaution taken in case the hijackers booby-trapped her.”
“Yes, sir. On it.”
“And let’s scan that liner. I want to know how many life signs are aboard, what her reactors are doing, if she’s giving off unusual emissions — everything.” Dunmoore stood. “I’ll be in my quarters.”
**
“Sensors can make out two hundred and twenty-nine distinct life signs,” Chief Cox reported.
“But there were two hundred and seventy aboard when she left her last port of call before the hijacking.” Pushkin glanced at Dunmoore over his shoulder. “One hundred and twenty passengers and a hundred and fifty crew. That means forty-one people are unaccounted for.”
“Either they’re dead or were taken off, sir. The sensors can’t find any dark spots where that many life signs might be hiding. Other than that, her emissions are normal, her reactors appear to be operating within acceptable parameters, and she’s not transmitting anything.”
“Thank you.”
Dunmoore stroked the control screen embedded in her command chair arm, and moments later, Captain Rydzewski answered.
“Sir?”
“Launch the boarding party.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Task Force Luckner had entered orbit less than half an hour earlier and surrounded Athena at a distance sufficient to avoid harm if the worst happened and her antimatter containment fields failed due to sabotage. But, so far, no one aboard acknowledged Salamanca’s hails or took notice of five Commonwealth Navy warships orbiting a Protectorate Zone star system where, under the Treaty, they shouldn’t be. The handful of other ships in orbit, while no doubt monitoring them with trepidation, were wisely remaining both silent and distant.
Ten minutes passed, then one of the cruiser’s shuttles appeared on both the flag CIC’s primary display and as a small blue icon in the holographic tactical projection. It approached Athena from behind with deliberation, its sensors examining every square centimeter of the liner’s hull, looking for hidden airlock release hatches — a boarding party’s best friend.
The shuttle finally leveled off abeam of the main starboard passenger airlock used when docking and by the pirate shuttle earlier. Within moments, the speaker came to life with the voice of Salamanca’s second officer, who led the boarding party.
“The main airlock is powered up and seems ready to extrude a connecting tube. When the hijackers ran off, they left it live and ready to receive. What are my instructions?”
“Can you sense anything that might indicate a booby trap?” Captain Rydzewski asked.
“No.”
Guthren glanced at Dunmoore. “Doesn’t mean there aren’t any, but if no one’s around to run the controls from inside, that’s what you’d get after shuttle docked there buggered off in great haste. The airlock is still primed.”
“What would you suggest?”
“Send a boarding droid through without docking.”
Rydzewski spoke again, quoting Guthren almost word for word, and they watched the droid, a cylinder just over half a meter tall and a quarter that in diameter come through the shuttle’s own airlock and, with a brief burst of its jets, head for Athena. Once there, it extruded magnetic clamps and a robotic arm that opened the emergency control panel and manipulated the mechanical release mechanism.
The airlock’s outer door opened after an interval just long enough to empty the intermediary compartment of air, then the droid entered, the door closed again, and the compartment repressurized. When the inner door opened, it relayed live video of an empty, though opulent guest lobby. Neither humans nor AI holographs stood behind the reception desk, and the wall displays were dark.
Now on wheels, the droid trundled toward the passenger section and found its entryway barred. The second officer ordered it around then through the open door leading to the crew compartments and the bridge. But it encountered no one.
“All right,” Rydzewski said. “You’re clear to dock. Take control of the ship, then find its crew. Don’t open the passenger section until Niner-Niner arrives.”
Dunmoore, whose radio call sign it was, stood.
“And that’s my signal to prepare.”
Guthren imitated her.
“You mean our signal, Skipper.”
“Enjoy dealing with over a hundred scared and probably pissed off scions of Earth’s elites.” Pushkin grinned at her. “We’ll be watching from the safety of your CIC and passing around a tub of popcorn.”
“Enjoy the show.”
**
In contrast to the boarding party’s armored pressure suits, Dunmoore, Guthren, and the two bosun’s mates assigned as security wore nothing more than dark blue Navy battledress, holstered sidearms, and the Fleet’s sky blue beret with its starburst and anchor insignia.
The ride over in Salamanca’s pinnace was brief and, with the boarding party’s shuttle undocked and shadowing Athena a hundred meters off her starboard beam, they docked at the main airlock. Salamanca’s second officer greeted her in the guest lobby with a quick salute which Dunmoore returned.
“Welcome aboard, sir. We are in control of the ship and can sail it home if necessary. As far as we can tell, they locked the crew up with the passengers where they can’t access critical systems.”
“Lead on, Commander.” She gestured at the guest corridor. “You found the coordinates for Sara Lauzier’s cabin, I presume?”
“Yes, sir.” An amused look crossed his usually serious features. “Not unexpectedly, it’s the Commonwealth Suite, also known as Cabin Number One. But based on the live video feed we’ve been watching, Madame Lauzier is in a nearby lounge, alone, reading. It appears our boarding has gone unnoticed by the inmates.”
“Good. That way, they will hopefully not mob us.”
Dunmoore had decided she would deal with the passengers via the one they would consider their leader by dint of her parentage and the power she wielded behind the scenes in Geneva.
