A Dark and Dirty War, page 8
“You’re a cheerful one today, Attar.”
“No more than usual, Oh Great Flag Captain.” This time Khanjan glanced over his shoulder and grinned at Pushkin. “But I’m one day closer to retirement and a little inn by the lake on Mykonos.”
“What do you know about inn-keeping?”
“Nothing, but since I tucked away a nice little nest egg, I don’t need to chase the bottom line. Besides, I’ll let my cousin Thomas run the place and spend my days glad-handing the guests. The Decker branch of the family has always produced dour, hard-working settlers with nary a space-faring soul among them, unlike us Khanjans, who are cursed with wanderlust.”
**
“Surprisingly good,” Pushkin said in a grudging tone once Salamanca finished looking for his former ship, Jan Sobieski, now running silent a few thousand kilometers from the cruiser. “They might not practice spending days at it, but the old lady is tight as a drum, just like the others. Color me astonished. Unless the bad guys happen to scan her exact location, they won’t see a thing.”
“I’ll venture old Jan’s crew, like the rest, spent quality time between the command conference and now plugging any stray emission leaks, so they don’t hear sharp words from the Skipper,” Lieutenant Commander Olmos replied. “No way wartime hulls waiting for their turn in drydock are that clean without extra doing. But kudos anyhow. It proves they’re doing it right.”
Dunmoore winked at him. “Then I’d say we achieved our aim, no?”
Pushkin, a broad grin on his square, honest face, wagged a finger at her. “Sneaky, sneaky.”
“She is that,” Guthren said. “I seem to recall a worn out frigate that wouldn’t move without underhanded incentives.”
“Touché, Chief. And thanks for reminding me of my failings.” Pushkin gave him a mock scowl.
“You came through fast enough once you understood the Skipper wasn’t another Helen Forenza, sir. Never you worry. By the time we got athwart Brakal’s hawse, our Stingray was the best of the lot.”
Dunmoore raised both hands. “All right, enough strolling down memory lane. Gregor, running Salamanca through the sequence first as the standard to beat was an excellent idea.”
“I seem to recall a certain commodore who insisted the flagship should always show the lead.”
“And so she did. I’m glad you remembered. Attar, please get the captains on the net.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
When five faces filled the command chair’s virtual display, she smiled.
“Well done, everybody. Task Force Luckner can become a hole in space at will. So long as no one has eyes on a particular section of hyperlimit when we drop out of FTL, we’ll escape notice until I decide we light up. Keep in mind this will probably take much longer than the test we just ran. I trust you’ve entered the navigation plot provided by Commander Khanjan?”
A chorus of ‘Yes, sir,’ answered her.
“If there are no last questions, I’ll give the execute in a few minutes.” She paused for a moment, but no one spoke. “Going once, going twice, and done... Thank you. We will speak next when I order up systems at Kilia’s hyperlimit. Dunmoore, out.”
Lieutenant Commander Khanjan glanced over his shoulder.
“Ships linked in and synced, Skipper. We’re ready for FTL. Just give the word.”
“And that word is given.”
Within moments, a klaxon sounded throughout Salamanca, followed by the voice of the officer of the watch warning the crew they would jump to hyperspace in three minutes. Dunmoore, like everyone else in the flag CIC, braced herself as the timer counted down the last seconds. Then the universe turned her guts into a psychedelic pretzel. The sensation vanished just as rapidly as it came on, and she stood.
“I’ll be in my quarters.”
**
“Emissions are tight across the task force, sir.” Chief Petty Officer Second Class Harvey Cox, the other half of RED One’s combat systems evaluation duo, glanced at Dunmoore over his shoulder shortly after Task Force Luckner dropped out of FTL at the hyperlimit.
A squat, thick-set man in his late fifties, with close-cropped gray hair and a bushy mustache beneath a prominent nose, he could reduce most combat systems officers to quivering masses of protoplasm during evaluations. “We should be invisible to Kilia, provided they weren’t looking right at this spot just now.”
“Put a live view of the station on the primary display, please.”
“Sir.”
When it shimmered into view, Kilia Station appeared just as unprepossessing as before. Built inside a potato-shaped asteroid forty kilometers long and eight kilometers wide, spinning on its long axis, Dunmoore could still see little of the habitat itself. But they’d added ten long docking arms sticking out like spokes from a hub where before all ships could do was enter orbit and launch shuttles. But the opening to the main shuttle dock was still there — a gaping maw in the rocky surface.
Using the data collected by Iolanthe during her wartime visits, Chief Cox marked the dozen known gun emplacements, eight missile launchers, and twenty-four shield generators. However, they were still camouflaged by low domes which blended seamlessly into the surrounding rock, and Dunmoore wondered whether the weaponry had ever been used.
“If they added more ordnance,” Cox said, “we won’t find out until we go live. And what’s this, I wonder?”
The view shifted and focused on a medium-sized vessel orbiting the asteroid.
Lieutenant Commander Zakaria, fit, muscular, in her late forties with a narrow face and short brown hair, let out a low whistle.
“That’s a Shrehari ship and no mistake. I’ve not seen anything like it since the armistice. The shape is definitely derived from the Imperial Deep Space Fleet’s basic design — an elongated wedge with broad, almost wing-like hyperdrive nacelle pylons. Too big for a P’tar, too small for a Tol. A new class of ship, perhaps?”
“But no imperial dragon markings. Whatever those hull decorations represent, they’re not military,” Cox replied.
Pushkin nodded.
“Agreed, but that doesn’t mean the thing isn’t in imperial service. I’ll wager a bottle of Glen Arcturus that’s either their equivalent of a Q ship or something operated by their new intelligence branch, the Tai Zohl. Let’s check the other visitor, Chief.” He glanced at Dunmoore, who’d remained silent, and saw her study the image with what seemed like a wistful expression on her face. “You okay, Skipper?”
“I’m fine,” she replied after a moment. “This place holds a few memories of my days in Iolanthe. We carried out one of our more outrageous capers here, right, Mister Guthren.”
“You said it, sir.” Guthren turned to Pushkin. “The captain created an instant mercenary fleet around the Furious Fairy and bluffed her way through. You could say it was Iolanthe’s first turn as flagship. Let me tell you about it when we’re back home and can talk shop on my bungalow’s back deck.”
“Sir.” Chief Cox raised his hand and pointed at the primary display. “Take a gander at that sloop on the docking arm. Doesn’t she resemble the hijackers?”
The images transmitted by Athena’s captain during the seizure appeared on a side screen. Everyone in the flag CIC studied both intently, then one by one, they nodded.
“If it’s not a hijacker,” Lieutenant Commander Zakaria said, “then it came from the same shipyard. Sloop, vaguely human design with particularities we can’t yet explain.”
“No other ships that we can see, though, sir. We’ve watched the asteroid for one full rotation by now. So if anyone else is in the vicinity, they’re keeping quiet.”
Dunmoore leaned forward.
“Please check the leading and trailing Lagrangian points, Chief. Using them to hide was one of my favorite tactics back in the day, and it cost many a Shrehari their lives.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
She sat back while Cox relayed her request to the cruiser’s CIC, which controlled the sensors themselves. Looking for ships running silent at a Lagrangian always took time, especially in passive mode, but with luck, the combat systems AI might find something occluding the background stars.
— Twelve —
Rear Admiral Kowalski glanced at her communicator when it chimed — Ezekiel Holt. She touched its control surface.
“What’s up, Zeke?”
“The Athena hijack story is hitting the newsnets as we speak. Someone somewhere must have talked out of school. We’ll be looking for the leaker, but things could become interesting in this city within the next hour. So I thought you might wish to batten the hatches.”
“Anything about the rescue operation?”
“Not so far, which makes me think it came from outside the Fleet or the SecGen’s office. Did we hear back from the Shrehari ambassador yet? Task Force Luckner will be in the Kilia system by now, and since there is always a Shrehari corsair around, the moment Siobhan’s spotted, they’ll be tearing up the subspace net.”
“I received no news on that front. Perhaps the ambassador is still consulting his government. Subspace radio conversations over that distance take time. However, he knows the name of the task force and the identity of its commanding officer. I confirmed that with the SecGen’s liaison office. Hopefully, it’ll convince Kho’sahra Brakal to sanction the incursion. Anything from the Colonial Office?”
“The consulate folks on Kilia Station are expecting Task Force Luckner. Mikhail Forenza will speak with Siobhan the moment she shows up, which will probably be after she keeps the place under observation from the hyperlimit for a day or so while running silent, her usual modus operandi.” He glanced to one side. “Hang on. Something’s happening downtown. Senator Chu, whose husband is aboard Athena, has just released a blistering statement condemning the Special Security Bureau for letting what was clearly an inside job happen. Of course, it’s a veiled jab at Lauzier, as usual. I don’t think the Director General of the Special Security Bureau needs to pack his personal effects just yet.”
Kowalski let out a snort. “I’ll read her latest pronouncement in a moment. But, like the rest of them, I’m sure this one is full of colorful language and words that most of the ordinary citizens can barely pronounce, let alone understand.”
“Chu never recovered from losing to Lauzier the last time around. On the contrary, she practically accused him of underhanded and corrupt practices in securing a second term. Considering how he handled the postwar years, I can’t say she’s entirely wrong.”
Holt grinned at her.
“After thirty-plus years in the Senate, Chu should know everything about those practices. She’s the poster child for senatorial term limits. I don’t doubt this newest attack on Lauzier just now is part of her plan to become SecGen after the next election. We’ve known for a while that she’ll do whatever it takes. For instance, Renzo’s presence in Athena certainly doesn’t impress the colonial yokels. Instead, he’s there to build support for his wife among the core star system nomenklatura who make up most of the passengers.”
“Ah, the joys of working counterintelligence. You peek into the Commonwealth’s darkest, dirtiest corners day in, day out.”
“When you put it like that, I think I’d rather sweep the floors at the Academy.”
“We use droids for those sorts of jobs.”
“My point exactly, Kathryn. This keeping tabs on crooked politicos and bureaucrats isn’t for us. We need an internal affairs organization independent of the Fleet, the SSB, the Senate, and the administration. In any case, that was my update for now. Enjoy Senator Chu’s latest rant.”
“I will. Cheers, Zeke.”
**
“We can’t detect anything at the Lagrangian points, Skipper,” Lieutenant Commander Zakaria reported when Dunmoore returned from the wardroom after a quick meal. “Unless someone is running silent like us, only two ships are visiting Kilia at the moment — the Shrehari corsair and the one of unknown origin that resembles the hijackers.”
Dunmoore dropped into the command chair and stared at Kilia’s image on the primary display, jaw muscles working.
After a few moments, she said, “Right. There’s no point in hanging around any longer. Chief Cazano, open a link with all ships and transmit up systems, followed by prepare to execute navigation plan on flag orders.”
The short, slender, auburn-haired chief petty officer second class assigned as RED One’s communications specialist nodded once but kept her eyes on the workstation to monitor the local radio traffic.
“Up systems, followed by prepare to execute navigation plan on flag orders, aye.”
“How long do you figure before they notice a Navy task force closing in?” Pushkin asked.
Dunmoore gave him a shrug.
“No idea, though I’d put money on the Shrehari corsair spotting us first. I doubt the buggers have grown lax since the war. But, of course, I also doubt they heard from their high command yet about our little visit, so the next half hour could be interesting.”
Chief Cazano raised her hand.
“All ships report ready and synced, Skipper.”
“Commander Khanjan, you may execute the navigation plan.”
“Executing navigation plan, aye, sir. Order to engage is transmitting.” Then, a minute or so later, “The task force is accelerating on a new heading.”
Though the image of their target on the primary display didn’t change, and she didn’t sense any difference in the ship’s speed or motion, Dunmoore felt that familiar excitement after so long. She was at last heading into the fray again, even though this time it would be without actual combat — provided both Kilia and the Shrehari did nothing profoundly stupid, such as open fire on Commonwealth Navy ships unprovoked.
Just over fifteen minutes later, Chief Cox raised his hand.
“We’re being painted by Shrehari sensors from the corsair, Skipper, but no sign they’re targeting us. Hang on.” A few seconds passed. “They raised shields, although Salamanca can’t detect weapons powering up.”
“A little skittish, are they?” Commander Zakaria glanced over her shoulder at Dunmoore.
“Or prudent. We’re probably the first Commonwealth Navy ships they’ve seen in almost a decade, which means the last time they met humans, it was to exchange missiles and gunfire, not pleasantries. So we’ll keep our shields down unless we pick up signs someone is powering weapons.”
Zakaria nodded. “Understood.”
“Sir.” Chief Cazano raised a hand. “The Shrehari are hailing us. They’re demanding to speak with the human admiral who dares dishonor himself by violating the Treaty of Ulufan.”
“Sure enough, they didn’t get word from home about us yet. Is their hail in Anglic or Shrehari?”
“Anglic, but it sounds like something from a translation AI.”
Dunmoore nodded. Automatic translation of non-human speech into one of the human languages had never been perfected by any species in this part of the galaxy.
“Let’s see if we can set up a video link.”
“I’m trying, sir.” A minute passed, then another, before Cazano turned to Dunmoore. “They accepted on condition we use their translation AI. I can feed the output from ours in text form to your command chair heads-up display.”
“Do it, Chief.”
The primary display shed its image of Kilia, replaced by a Shrehari warrior’s black within black eyes beneath pronounced skull ridges covered by dark skin. He stared at her with unnerving intensity, then spoke briefly in his language. Moments later, an artificial voice came through the speakers.
“I am Retak, commander of the Imperial Survey Ship Gar Viq on a scientific mission. And you are?”
Words floated in front of her face, essentially repeating what Retak said in Shrehari. Dunmoore hoped he didn’t expect her to believe his was a science vessel, but there was no point discussing the matter. It was about diplomacy now.
“I am Siobhan Dunmoore, commander of the Commonwealth Navy Task Force Luckner, on a rescue mission sent by my government to retrieve over two hundred of our citizens seized by pirates. Your ambassador on our homeworld has been informed and will have passed the word to your government by now.”
Once Retak’s AI translated her words a few seconds later, he looked to one side and jerked his massive chin. His mouth moved, but she heard no sound. Then, finally, he turned back toward her.
“You are Dunmoore who attacked the Imperial Home System with Task Force Luckner?” The last word came out badly mangled, but she understood it nonetheless.
“I am, and I also had the honor of meeting Kho’sahra Brakal in battle as well as in peace.”
The Shrehari stared at her for a few moments, though she couldn’t decipher his expression, let alone pick up a hint of his thoughts.
“And you say your government informed mine.”
“Yes. It wouldn’t unilaterally violate the Treaty of Ulufan by sending a naval task force without warning and without good reason.”
Dunmoore held Retak’s eyes, wondering whether he understood she knew damn well Gar Viq was an undercover military or intelligence unit, and thereby also technically in violation of the Treaty, should anyone dispute its identity. But, of course, the Commonwealth was doing likewise. For example, Iolanthe or another of the Navy’s Q ships could be stalking this star system right now, wondering why a cruiser, three frigates, and a corvette had appeared out of nowhere.
When he didn’t immediately reply, Dunmoore added, “We come in peace and will only offer violence to those who captured our citizens should they not cooperate. But we would be grateful for any help offered by honorable beings who deplore piracy as much as we do. For instance, did you see this ship?”
She called up Athena’s image and waited while he studied it.
“No. Pirates took it?”
“Yes, with many notable Commonwealth citizens aboard.” She put up a picture of the unknown sloops. “These are the dishonorable pirates who violated Commonwealth space. They resemble the ship currently docked at Kilia. Do you know their place of origin?”
