A Dark and Dirty War, page 16
No one waited on the other side of the armored, airtight door when it opened, but her escort entered first, wary expressions on their faces, hands hovering near their holstered blasters, the second officer on their heels. As they walked down opulent corridors and across luxurious common spaces, startled heads appeared through open doors and followed their progress with wide eyes, though no one called out. Dunmoore could only presume the eerily unexpected appearance of Commonwealth Navy personnel startled them, and they didn’t quite believe what they saw.
“In here.”
The second officer stopped by a door that opened at his touch. He stepped aside as Dunmoore’s escort entered, eyes scanning in the lounge and its sole occupant. They took position on either side of the door under the astonished gaze of Sara Lauzier, who stood when Dunmoore and Guthren appeared.
“Madame Lauzier? I’m Captain Siobhan Dunmoore, Commonwealth Navy. I command Task Force Luckner. We’ve come to bring you and everyone else aboard home.” Dunmoore, who’d been observing Lauzier from the moment the door opened, thought she picked up something more than surprise in her gaze. A tinge of annoyance, perhaps? What she didn’t notice was relief at being rescued. “The people who hijacked this ship fled shortly after spotting us at the planet’s hyperlimit a few hours ago.”
After a moment of silence, Lauzier said, “Then I — we — owe you our gratitude.”
Her flat tone sounded somehow wrong to Dunmoore’s ears.
“Our sensors detected fewer life signs than expected, forty-one less, to be precise. Do you know what happened?”
“The hijackers took them off this ship, obviously. Why I couldn’t say.”
This time, Dunmoore was sure she spotted a flash of annoyance in Lauzier’s eyes.
“Do you know if anyone requires medical care?”
Lauzier shook her head.
“No. Our captors treated us well. The ship’s hospitality personnel, who were not confined, took care of our needs. Other than on odd occasions, whoever hijacked Athena left us alone.”
“My boarding party will release the ship’s crew from confinement and, if we’re satisfied with their condition, return control of Athena back to Captain LeDain. In the meantime, would you be so kind as to reassure your fellow passengers and let them know they’re in the Navy’s hands now? We will be escorting you back to Starbase 30. From there, 3rd Fleet will make sure you reach Earth safely.”
A nod. “I’ll speak with them. Thank you, Captain.”
“One last question. Did you see any of your captors clearly enough to describe them so we can have an AI draw up their likenesses? From the intelligence I received, many, if not most, are ex-Fleet. Having images would allow us to track down their identities.”
Lauzier hesitated long enough to awaken Dunmoore’s curiosity.
“They summoned me to the captain’s day cabin shortly after we arrived here, where I met a woman who calls herself the Commodore. She claims to be a mercenary and commands the ships that hijacked Athena.”
“What did this Commodore want?”
“She told me her employers were using us to blackmail the Commonwealth government, and that if it didn’t accede to their demands, our lives would be on the line. When she suggested I plead with my father for cooperation via video recording, I refused. And that was it. I wasn’t aware she’d removed people from Athena, seeing as how we’ve mostly withdrawn into our own little bubbles. You’d have to ask the others if they noticed anything.”
“What can you tell me about this Commodore?”
Lauzier shrugged.
“Not that much. Claims she was a Navy captain, with starship commands and senior staff appointments, before taking forced retirement after the war. In appearance, she’s an icy blond — pale skin, shoulder-length platinum hair, cold blue eyes, narrow face. Her voice is clearly in the alto range and a little rough. I’d say she’s a few years older than you are, and I got the sense she’s bitter at being cast adrift by the peacetime Fleet.”
Many Navy officers could fit that description, but Dunmoore could only think of one who knew her tactics well enough to spot Task Force Luckner emerging at the hyperlimit after being warned by Drex.
— Twenty-Four —
Captain Roy LeDain was practically falling over himself, thanking Dunmoore for rescuing them. His crew was complete, minus the five last-minute replacements planted aboard Athena by the hijackers, and ready to retake control of their ship.
He provided them with a manifest, and after doing a headcount, the boarding party could identify the thirty-six missing passengers. They subsequently debriefed him and his people for the investigation, a task that took most of the day. Then, Dunmoore turned Athena back to LeDain with the caveat that he obeys navigation instructions from the flag CIC in Salamanca until they arrive at Starbase 30. Otherwise, she would put a prize crew aboard and temporarily press his ship into the Navy as an auxiliary. Or course, LeDain did not know she couldn’t do that in peacetime, but he promised he would faithfully follow her instructions.
Her last task before heading back into Commonwealth space was sending a report via the Colonial Office’s subspace relay network. After preparing a draft for discussion, Dunmoore sat down with Pushkin and Guthren to review it.
“Looks good, Skipper,” Puskin said once he read it.
“Should I or shouldn’t I include my suspicions this Commodore might be Lena Corto?”
“Shame we don’t have her image in the database, but how many retired post captains, the sort separated from the Service after the war as surplus to requirements, fit the description Lauzier gave you? If it is Corto, she prepared her escape the moment Drex arrived at Galadiman’s hyperlimit and raised the alarm, knowing you would heavily outmatch her squadron. What I don’t understand, however, is why not take Athena along? Why simply take her own people off and run?”
Dunmoore nodded. “That question has been bothering me as well, along with the matter of those thirty-six passengers taken away at regular intervals. What did maybe-Corto do with them, and why those when they held someone like Sara Lauzier in their grasp?”
“How about you put those questions in your report, Skipper,” Guthren suggested. “See what the brains at Fleet HQ come up with. There has to be a lot more going on than we can see right now.”
“Good idea. I’ll do so. In the meantime, Gregor, if you could see the task force on its way to the hyperlimit, I’d be grateful.”
“Will do.” He chuckled as he stood. “You know, the more I think about it, the more convinced I am it really is Lena. Who the hell other than a bitter failure like our dear former flag captain would insist on calling herself the Commodore and wear a star on a mercenary’s uniform? I’ve never heard of mercs doing so, especially not when her command is a handful of sloops, something which rates four rings at the most, if not three.”
Guthren nodded. “He’s right, sir. That fits with the Lena Corto we remember so fondly.”
**
“Siobhan found Athena and is on her way back. But thirty-six passengers were taken off by the hijackers and are now listed as missing, as are the five crewmembers who infiltrated the ship on their behalf.” Holt dropped into a chair facing Kowalski’s desk. He fished a data chip from his tunic pocket and placed it on the desktop. “I’ve classified her report top secret special access, and when you read it, you’ll know why. Go on. I’ll wait.”
Kowalski placed the chip on her desktop reader, and a virtual display popped up with text on its holographic screen. As she read, her face hardened, and after a few minutes, she turned her eyes on Holt.
“You know this Corto character, I presume?”
“Oh, yes. The original Task Force Luckner’s flag captain until the day Siobhan got her star and took command, with me inheriting Iolanthe and those flag captain duties she didn’t assume herself.”
“Do you think Siobhan could be onto something?”
He nodded.
“I did a quick check on Corto. She cashed out her pension seven years ago and vanished. There’s no trace of her anywhere. And calling herself Commodore while wearing a star is so in character for the woman I remember.”
“What do you think of her last section, listing the questions she raises?”
Holt looked up at the ceiling in a theatrical gesture. “Where do I start?”
“How about with the list of those who vanished? Do they have anything in common?”
A slow grin appeared as he turned his eyes back on Kowalski.
“You mean beyond the fact they come from filthy rich clans and are politically connected to a fare thee well?”
She nodded. “Please don’t draw this out for your own amusement, Zeke. Siobhan would disapprove.”
“No, she wouldn’t. She’d set up the chessboard and then utterly destroy me.” A wink. “Consider yourself lucky. To her, chess is a blood sport. The disappeared have more than just those characteristics in common. In one way or another, many of them have been critical of Charles Lauzier, his daughter, or other members of that tribe. And they would most certainly oppose Sara’s rise to the top job by any means fair or foul. The rest are the sort of relatives their families wouldn’t miss, said families being Lauzier supporters.”
“And there’s our cui bono, though it seems far-fetched the Lauziers would make three dozen of their own clique vanish in such a manner.”
“From a public perception aspect, it beats assassination.”
Kowalski inclined her head. “Good point. Would this Lena Corto terminate civilians at the orders of someone such as Lauzier?”
Holt considered the question for a moment, then slowly shook his head.
“I don’t think so. She’s not a sociopath, unlike Sara and most of her family. But she’s bitter enough to see members of the political elite suffer for the rest of their lives. Otherwise, she would have successfully backstabbed her way to an admiral’s stars instead of watching Siobhan take over Task Force Luckner. Or she could have farmed out the executions. Unfortunately, according to our friends in the Colonial Office Intelligence Service, the Confederacy of the Howling Stars, like most organized crime outfits, has a surplus of soulless killers.” He gave Kowalski a helpless shrug. “Unless we track down the hijacker ships in question, we’ll likely never know.”
“Who’s notifying the families?”
“The CNI is kicking that one up the chain to the Grand Admiral who will no doubt declare it a job for the SecGen’s office and walk away before one of Charles Lauzier’s minions can pin it on the Fleet.”
“Next item on Siobhan’s list — why did the hijackers leave Athena behind when they ran? They could have taken her with them and jumped out well before Task Force Luckner entered effective engagement range.”
Another shrug.
“Your guess is as good as mine. Perhaps they’d taken the people they needed from among Athena’s passengers and didn’t want to bother with the rest. Or Athena suffered from mechanical issues that prevented her from keeping up with fast-moving sloops. Or Corto panicked when she heard Dunmoore was coming with five warships and left Athena behind to slow the task force so she could make her escape.”
This time Kowalski let a slow smile play on her lips.
“Or,” drawled, “the mission to help precipitate a political crisis was mostly completed. A rescue by the Navy would do just as well as a rescue by the SSB’s mercenaries, especially if Corto took off the folks the Lauziers would rather never see again. No need to stick around or take Athena with her.”
“If you discuss that hypothesis with the CNO, let alone the Grand Admiral, they’ll make you the senior patient at the Armed Forces Psychiatric Institute. But yeah, that’s a distinct possibility because it answers Siobhan’s questions. And plausibly at that.” Holt let out a soft sigh. “Which leaves us with a conundrum. What do we do about it? If we’re right, the SSB won’t investigate. With Athena’s return to Commonwealth space, the Fleet’s involvement will be over, and we can’t officially pursue the matter.”
“True. But three dozen of the Commonwealth’s leading citizens have vanished at pirate hands inside the Protectorate Zone. I think it gives us an excuse to pursue the matter from that end at least and perhaps wipe out the Confederacy of the Howling Stars and their allies — beings who present an increasing threat to Commonwealth security.”
Holt let out an amused snort.
“You actually said that with a straight face. Congratulations. We’ll never obtain authorization for a big anti-organized crime campaign in the Zone, Kathryn. Didn’t you hear? The Fleet no longer conducts dark and dirty wars beyond the frontiers. They annoy the powers that be who profit from said organized crime, which, in turn, doesn’t help promotion prospects. You won’t find a single flag officer who’ll volunteer to lead such an effort, never mind allow it, and for reasons beyond the letter of the Treaty. Once the current tempest settles, those poor sods taken off Athena will be consigned to the memory hole, especially if they were targeted.”
Kowalski gave Holt the sort of sweet smile he remembered seeing on Siobhan Dunmoore’s lips when the latter was plotting something her superiors might not like.
“The flag officer to lead such an effort already began fighting a dirty little war, though we’ll have to put a star or two on her collar and get her an established formation instead of the borrowed ad hoc one she has at the moment.”
Holt stared at Kowalski with unfeigned astonishment.
“Did you start happy hour during the morning coffee break?”
“Come on, Zeke. You know I’m right. We simply need to make it happen.”
“We? What’s this we, oh future chief of naval operations? I’m a terminal commodore tucked away in the darkest corner of Naval Intelligence because the snooping my division does must remain hidden from the government. But please continue, tell me how you plan on making a miracle happen.”
“Right now, our Q ships are operating individually and rather haphazardly in the Zone. Sadly, Special Operations Command isn’t as aggressive on the naval side since the war ended. General Espinoza would rather send Pathfinder and SOF units into suspected pirate lairs and wipe them out with daggers and small arms fire rather than hunt for their ships. That’s what you get when you appoint a Marine Corps four-star as commander. Besides, while controlling each Q ship’s individual mission profile from SOCOM HQ works in most places along the frontier, the Protectorate Zone needs a more concerted effort under a flag officer who not only knows the area of operations but is there in person.”
“And?”
“I am preparing a proposal to make something like Task Force Luckner a permanent unit that’ll help clean up the Zone and keep it clean. Once the idea’s been accepted, I’ll suggest it comes under the command of one Siobhan Dunmoore. If the powers that be agree, I’ll see about getting her star back and perhaps even add a second one right away, since commodores don’t hold independent commands these days. You may not know this, but regulations specify officers can skip commodore if they held that rank as a wartime formation commander. Should it all come together, the task force’s first mission would be finding the hijackers and wiping them out while recovering the people missing from Athena.”
Holt cocked an eyebrow at her.
“That sounds like a tall order. So permit me to be skeptical you can pull it off.”
Kowalski’s sweet smile returned.
“I’m seeing the CNO this afternoon about the first step, creating a permanent formation separate from regular battle groups to deal with the Zone. After Siobhan’s stunning success and our growing cooperation with the Colonial Office, who, I’m sure, will be more than happy to help, I think I can sell the idea. Especially under the banner of preventing further high profile attacks. I assume Admiral Lowell knows by now Siobhan pulled it off and is on her way home?”
“Admiral Doxiadis called him right after I delivered the news — minus Siobhan’s unanswered questions, which will stay our secret for now. Well, ours and Mikhail Forenza’s, since her report went over his network. And he could be the key to finding answers. Your boss and the Grand Admiral should be heading for the Palace of the Stars any moment now so they can brief the SecGen.”
“Good. It means he’ll be that much more receptive to my idea.”
— Twenty-Five —
Secretary General of the Commonwealth Charles Lauzier, who’d been staring out his office window at the shimmering surface of Lake Geneva while Grand Admiral Sampaio spoke, turned around. A tall, lean, severe-looking seventy-five-year-old whose wavy black hair was slowly turning silver, he studied both naval officers with deep-set eyes on either side of a patrician nose.
“That’s quite a commendable feat by your task force commander, Admiral, recovering most of our people and the ship so quickly without firing a shot. What was her name again?”
“Dunmoore, sir. Captain Siobhan Dunmoore,” Lowell replied, knowing full well Lauzier could recite Sampaio’s report almost verbatim and would have remembered.
Lauzier snapped his fingers and pointed at him. “Of course.”
He rejoined them around the coffee table and sat, elbows on the antique chair’s upholstered arms, hands joined loosely in front of his chin.
“Tell me, Admiral, is this the same Dunmoore who led the raid on the Shrehari home system and escorted me to the armistice talks, the one with whom Kho’sahra Brakal spoke after we signed the documents?”
Sampaio nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Why the blazes is such a capable officer still a mere captain? I seem to recall she wore a commodore’s star ten years ago.”
Lowell glanced at Sampaio as if to say, how about you handle this one, boss?
“Well, sir, after the war, a number of officers were reduced in rank as the Fleet laid up ships and released personnel back to civilian life. Dunmoore, as one of the most junior commodores, reverted to captain since there were no commodore billets available for her. Since then, in the estimation of successive promotion boards, she’s not been deemed sufficiently competitive with other captains and never ranked above the cut-off line.”
