A Dark and Dirty War, page 26
When the last one came through, he glanced at Dunmoore. “And Vitus Amali makes thirty-six.”
“Our shuttle is buttoned up and pulling back the mating tube, sir. Theirs is firing thrusters and peeling away.”
Dunmoore turned to Cazano.
“Put me through, Chief.”
“Yes, sir.” Then, “You’re on.”
“Good day, everyone.” At the sound of Dunmoore’s voice, the rescuees looked around, panicked. “I’m Rear Admiral Siobhan Dunmoore of the Commonwealth Navy. I command the 101st Battle Group. We’re glad to finally retrieve you. You’ll be pleased that we recovered Athena with the rest of your fellow travelers a few weeks ago. They’re safely back with their families by now. As soon as your shuttle is aboard my flagship, we’re heading for home. Now, please don the emergency pressure suits you’ll find on your seats and seal them. Since we don’t know your medical status, you’ll be quarantined in the interests of everyone’s health. We’ll be lodging you in a separate section of the ship, where you’ll enjoy every amenity a warship can offer. Once we’re away from this place, I will speak with you in person, albeit from behind the quarantine screen.”
They watched them examine the pressure suits and then slowly pull them on, some more reluctantly than others. Finally, when several of them didn’t seal theirs shut, the voice of Iolanthe’s second officer came through the CIC speakers.
“Folks, please seal your suits. Otherwise, we cannot take you aboard. This is for your safety. The ship’s hangar deck will not be pressurized when you disembark.”
It proved enough to convince the holdouts.
Dunmoore stood.
“I’ll be down in the hangar deck control room watching the proceedings, Gregor. Then, as soon as the shuttle is secure and Iolanthe ready for departure, execute the navigation plan.”
“Aye, aye, Admiral.” He grinned at her. “I’m still not tired of calling you that, by the way.”
She glanced at Guthren. “You interested in joining me?”
“Sure. It’s not every day you see their sort looking like sad sacks.”
Pressure-suited crew members met the shuttle on the hangar deck and guided the rescuees to the aft airlock behind which lay the ship’s Marine barracks, empty since E Company, 3rd Battalion, Scandia Regiment, disembarked after the armistice. The entire section was isolated from Iolanthe’s environmental systems via added filtering modules that would kill viruses or other microorganisms before air and waste products were cycled out. Meals prepared by the main galley would be cycled through the airlock, and any crew entering the section would do so wearing pressure suits until Iolanthe’s surgeon determined their passengers weren’t deliberately infected with anything nasty. Once their guests vanished, Dunmoore and Guthren returned to the flag CIC.
“We’re on a heading for the hyperlimit, aimed at Commonwealth space and definitely not the Cullan system, Admiral,” Pushkin reported as he climbed out of the command chair. “The others are conforming to our movements but in silent running mode, save for their sublight drives. That should give watchers in orbit and on the surface something to chew on — there was an entire squadron hiding above Rakka all this time.”
“Good. Maybe the gentle beings running piracy, smuggling, and human trafficking operations in the Zone will spend more time looking over their shoulders, wondering who’s next. Chief Cazano, can we ping a Colonial Office subspace relay from here with no one noticing? I’d like to send my report before we go FTL.”
**
“Siobhan found them on Rakka,” Ezekiel Holt said the moment Kowalski answered her secure communicator, “which is where Mikhail Forenza thought they might be held, and forced their captors to hand them over without firing a shot. The thirty-six are now aboard Iolanthe and in reasonably good health, considering they spent the last few weeks confined and fearing for their lives. However, just in case the Confederacy of the Howling Stars infected them with a biological agent designed to attack the crew, they’re quarantined in the Marine barracks until Iolanthe’s doc gives them a clean bill of health.”
“That’s excellent news.”
“The 101st will make a quick detour on the way home. It appears Lena Corto — yes, she’s the mysterious commodore — is headed for the Cullan system, where she’ll wait in hiding for her next contract. Siobhan plans on either capturing or destroying Corto’s squadron as a warning for others.”
“Good. We’ve been overly indulgent with the organized crime groups in the Zone. It’s time for some object lessons.”
“Do me a favor. So far, you and I are the only ones on Earth who know the 101st has recovered the missing thirty-six. Let’s leave it that way until Siobhan docks at Starbase 30 and announces the good news.”
She nodded. “There’s no point in giving Sara Lauzier extra time to cover her tracks.”
“That and I’m running an experiment. If Jamy Daver, the Confederacy’s vice president for the Rakka system and a retired Navy captain, decides informing the SSB, or whoever the Bureau uses as an intermediary, is in his best interests, we’ll try tracing the communication links with the Colonial Office’s help. It might tell us a lot about the SSB’s activities in the Rim Sector and the Zone.”
“No problems. I’ve become an old hand at temporarily keeping things from the CNO in the interests of the Service.”
“Siobhan and her people will interview each of the rescuees during their trip home and provide me with the recordings at the earliest opportunity. Maybe one of them will know something that points the finger at Sara, but I’m not holding my breath. So far, all we have is a conversation between Corto and Daver implicating her, and that’s nowhere near actionable.”
“It would have to be someone with a lot of guts and an insane amount of top cover, Zeke. And I doubt that bunch includes an individual who has both. Just the fact Sara felt she could make them disappear speaks to a distinct lack of protection.”
He shrugged.
“I don’t expect we’ll ever uncover the whole truth, but since Sara appears destined for greatness, we’ll accumulate every bit we can on her and hope that eventually, her dossier will give the Fleet leverage. The SSB, though, that’s another story. Everything we find out about their doings will come in handy sooner rather than later.”
**
“We ran tests for every known pathogen that could be used in a biological attack on Iolanthe and found nothing. Our guests are healthy and recovering nicely, so I doubt their captors injected them with a bio bomb. Considering how little time they had between the admiral opening communications and the handover, it’s unlikely they used something we can’t detect after five days of intensive scanning and observation. But I still suggest we keep them confined to the barracks.” Iolanthe’s chief medical officer, who’d been looking at Captain Devall and Rear Admiral Dunmoore in turn, settled his eyes on the latter. “Oh, and by the way, several of them are becoming rather vocal with demands for greater comforts and especially for an audience with the admiral.”
After briefly speaking with the rescuees via holographic projection after Iolanthe went FTL and explaining what their lives would look like during the trip to Starbase 30, Dunmoore avoided any contact. She knew they would soon feel well enough to regain their natural sense of entitlement. But, as she’d told Pushkin, gratitude from people of their sort turned sour surprisingly fast. They didn’t like owing anyone, let alone a lowly rear admiral whose two stars wouldn’t get her past the front door of their private clubs.
“Thank you, Doctor. I’ll rescind strict quarantine measures, if only because they need interviewing, so we can understand what happened aboard Athena and after they were taken off.”
Pushkin chuckled.
“Pity those who demand an audience with Admiral Dunmoore. They rarely enjoy the experience.”
“Then so much the better, sir. A few of our guests are genuine pieces of work. I can’t help wondering how they survived this long. Now, if there was anything else?”
Dunmoore shook her head.
“No. Thank you, Doctor, and well done to you and your team. Keep monitoring our passengers’ health. I’ll deal with the rest of our guest issues.”
“Better you than me, sir.” He stood. “With your permission?”
Dunmoore nodded. “You may return to your normal duties.”
— Forty —
“In what order should we conduct the interviews?” Lieutenant Commander Khanjan asked. “I’m not what you could term particularly experienced in these matters.”
“Does any part of the intelligence package give us information so we can establish relative positions in the Commonwealth power hierarchy?”
“To a certain extent, sir.”
“Then set it up with those who have the most apparent power first, and we’ll see if it needs adjusting. We’re just as much in the dark on these matters as you are, if truth be told. I don’t think we can go terribly wrong by switching a few in the order of march.”
“Will you sit in on the interviews?”
Dunmoore allowed herself a wan smile.
“I’ll be conducting them. There are a lot of questions I need answered before we report to Fleet HQ again.”
“Understood, Admiral. Based on what I read, I suggest you begin with Vitus Amali. He, among them, seems the most highly placed as vice chair of the ComCorp board of directors. The next would be Carl Renzo, spouse of Senator Judy Chu from Arcadia. Apparently, she pretty much runs the Home World faction in the Senate despite anything the SecGen may want.”
“That’s what I hear. Very well. Now that the quarantine’s lifted, we will interview them in the flag conference room one at a time, starting with Amali and Renzo. The first one right after lunch today at two bells in the afternoon watch.”
Khanjan nodded.
“Will do, sir. No escorts, I presume, just a guide.”
“Indeed, seeing as how they’re guests and not prisoners. A tray of non-alcoholic refreshments won’t come amiss either.”
“I’ll see that the wardroom takes care of it.”
“And make sure the recorders work. We’ll be sending a video of each interview back to Earth.”
**
“Come in, Mister Amali.” Dunmoore gestured at the chair across from her. “Please sit. Help yourself to whatever you want from the tray.”
Vitus Amali didn’t immediately enter the flag conference room. Instead, he stood on the threshold, eyes searching every nook and cranny before they finally settled on her. His mistrust was evident, although it fought with equally clear curiosity.
Like the rest of the rescuees, Amali wore simple, dark green clothes — trousers, collarless shirt, tunic — along with low shoes produced by Iolanthe’s fabricator. They weren’t up to his standards of elegance but still beat orange jumpsuits any day of the week.
He finally stepped in and cautiously took the indicated chair.
“As I announced this morning, now that we’ve lifted your quarantine, it behooves us to interview each of you about your experiences from the time Athena was captured to the moment you boarded Iolanthe. We’re recording the interviews for later analysis, hoping the information you provide will help us prevent further hijackings.”
“And what if I’d rather not?”
“Then you’d be doing yourself, your fellow passengers, and future victims a disservice, Mister Amali. We interviewed everyone in Athena, crew included, and they graciously cooperated.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “Even Sara Lauzier?”
She nodded.
“Yes. You expected otherwise?”
Amali gave her a tight shake of the head.
“No. All right, ask away, Admiral.”
His story up until Corto’s people removed him from Athena matched what she’d heard from those who remained aboard. But when it came to the removal itself, he seemed visibly hesitant, as if his recollections of that moment didn’t add up.
“What is it, Mister Amali?” She asked in a gentle tone.
“Something Sara said. A few minutes after she came back from meeting the head pirate and told they would execute us one after the other if Earth didn’t cooperate, two thugs entered the private lounge to seize me. Just before they injected me with a knockout drug, I asked her for help, and she said, ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, Vitus’ in a tone that seemed almost gleeful. Her behavior that day was a bit strange, now that I think back. In any case, I woke up in a large, bare compartment, lying on a thin bedroll. They’d left me in my clothes and shoes but took everything else — jewelry, wallet, reader. Over the next days, they dumped my companions into the compartment one after the other. We had sanitary facilities and were given ration bars three times a day along with bottled water.”
Amali rolled his eyes as he sighed.
“Can you imagine? Weeks of nothing but ration bars. Readapting to actual food from your galley is proving a tad — how shall I put this? Uncomfortable. Eventually, we were herded aboard a shuttle, flown planetside, and locked up in a stockade where they gave us orange jumpsuits. I somehow felt they didn’t quite know what to do with us, but don’t quote me on that. Then, you showed up, they loaded us back aboard the shuttle, and here we are.”
Over the following ten minutes, Dunmoore teased out information about the people he’d seen — appearance, weapons, behavior, etc. When he finally fell silent after her last question, he let out another sigh.
“I hope what I’ve said will be useful in finding these miscreants and the criminals who put them up to it. And now I’d like to ask whether we can move into better quarters. I’m sure a ship this size has plenty of spare cabins with more comforts than the Marine barracks, even though we each have a private compartment.”
“I’m sorry, Mister Amali, but no. We can’t allow thirty-six civilians to wander around in a warship that’s still sailing beyond the Commonwealth sphere. The amenities you’re enjoying do not differ from those of Iolanthe’s crew, officers included, and you’re eating the same food. It won’t be for much longer. A week or two, maybe three, then we’ll reach Starbase 30, from which you will no doubt be taken home under more luxurious conditions. Thank you for your time. The petty officer in the corridor will take you back to your quarters.”
Amali stared at her for a few seconds, then inclined his head.
“Thank you for your courtesy, Admiral. Please enjoy the rest of your day.”
The other rescuees had even less to say, though most asked for more comfortable quarters and better catering. However, Dunmoore noted that none ever saw, let alone spoke with Sara Lauzier after the abductions began. It was congruent with her orchestrating the removals when she met with Corto and withdrawing afterward so she could stay in the clear. Hopefully, whoever was reading her reports back on Earth wouldn’t shy away from taking a closer look at the SecGen’s daughter and decide whether she had reasons for making people disappear.
When the last of them left the conference room, the door to the flag CIC opened, admitting Gregor Pushkin, who’d watched the interviews from his workstation.
“You look ready for a stiff drink, Admiral.”
“I’ll make do with a cup of coffee, black, no sweetener, and I’ll fetch it from the wardroom in a moment.” Dunmoore shook her head. “What a bunch. No sense of observation, no self-awareness, but my are they ever concerned with themselves.”
“Our esteemed guests normally live in another universe altogether. Ours is rather alien for their pampered sensibilities. I noticed you pointedly didn’t tell them we were making a detour to find their hijackers. Any reason?”
She stood and stretched.
“Whatever happens in the Cullan system will be covered by one of our usual top secret special access codenames, so it’s best they don’t find out. That way, they can’t blab to the newsies. Besides, I’d rather only the Confederacy and we know about what happened out here. It makes for fewer political complications back home.”
“But what if the Howlers spread the news?”
“After the surprise we pulled at Abaddon, our appearing in the Cullan system unexpectedly will make them rather nervous, something they won’t share with potential employers, lest they appear weak. And as a bonus, nervous foes make stupid mistakes. I love taking advantage of those.”
“What’ll you do if we find Lena?” They left the conference room and took the nearest spiral staircase down one deck.
“Capture or destroy her ships. If we can land the crews on Cullan beforehand and strand them there, so much the better. I’d rather not engage in a wholesale slaughter of Fleet veterans, and we can’t take them back for trial because that will definitely cause no end of complications. But I’ll let Lena believe we’ll reduce her and her crews to so much space dust. It might concentrate her mind on the benefits of telling me what happened aboard Athena in exchange for their lives. Whoever has been sponsoring our mission at Fleet HQ will surely be pleased if we can find out.”
Pushkin chuckled.
“You’re becoming rather good at what some would call blackmail backed by threats of unrestrained violence.”
She shrugged.
“The dark and dirty little wars of peace are better fought through coercive measures than actual combat. It saves on ships, crews, and ammunition while being more politically palatable for our leaders and the citizenry at large.” As they entered the wardroom, she said, “Once we finish our coffee, please see that Attar packages the interview recordings for transmission. I’d like them on the Colonial Office subspace network headed for Earth the moment we drop out of FTL.”
“He’s already on it, Admiral.”
“Did I ever mention how much I enjoy having a flag captain who can anticipate my orders?”
“Yes, but you can say it as often as you like.”
**
“Got a few spare hours, Kathryn?”
She grimaced at Holt’s image on her office display.
“You know what it’s like around here. Ask me for anything but time.”
“I see you’re familiar with Napoleon Bonaparte’s famous saying.”
