Lost heir, p.10
Lost Heir, page 10
On a run, the whistles weren’t really personal because no one actually knew anyone else. Here, it felt different, more intimate, an invasion of her privacy. The man whistling at her, a big man wearing a Shore Patrol brassard, gave her the creeps with his stare. She waited for someone to do something about this clear act of harassment, an action strictly against regulations. The commander didn’t say anything, however. Maeve began to feel even more nervous and uneasy. This might not be as much fun as she supposed. If these men felt they could act like this with the commander around, they would be worse on their own.
There were some things worse than death, Maeve decided deep in her gut, and she’d die before she let any of these men touch her. She had barely taken her seat when the truck jolted into gear, heading toward the spaceport, away from her home since that dreadful day. Suddenly tears welled up, threatening to break out again. No, I won’t let these cretins see me cry.
Patel jogged her elbow. “Can you pretend to be a spacey nerd?” she whispered.
“Huh?” Maeve, wallowing in her misery, didn’t understand. What did Patel want her to do?
“I asked, is there anyone you know that is a super nerd? It may be a very effective cover.”
“I suppose so,” Maeve answered.
“Getting opponents to underestimate you can be very useful.” Patel smiled, teeth barely visible in the passing streetlamps. “Think of that girl in admin, the one without a clue. Whenever you asked her a question or tried to talk to her, she seemed to be in her own world. A lot of times she didn’t even answer the question you asked because she obviously lived in her own thoughts. Smart but clueless. I don’t think you can act like an airhead and ditsy, so distracted will have to do.”
The clear image of the chubby, little blonde came to mind. Even with the protection of Admiral Davies, from time-to-time they still needed to iron out admin problems in person. On the couple of trips Maeve had taken to Base Personnel, the blonde petty officer, who had ignored them while concentrating on her own tasks, had really annoyed her. She apparently knew her business but couldn’t be bothered with little things . . . like people.
Back at school, she and her friends, Kai, Mary, Adia, and Nikki, had been pretty cruel among themselves, actually, imitating women in the office, lunch ladies, other girls, and even teachers. None of it had been malicious or done publicly, even though, as daughters of high-ranking court and naval officers, Maeve knew they could have gotten away with it. Some of the other girls with important parents had treated the staff in a truly horrid manner and nothing had happened to them, but neither Maeve nor her friends had enjoyed making others miserable; imitating had just been funny. Plus, after all her experiences with three sisters who excelled in hurting other people, she never wanted to be like them.
As a little girl, she had experienced good and bad times with the other three, though Vivian had been her favorite because she read Maeve stories and helped Mom with her hair. Then they had gone to Grandmother’s for an extended visit, almost a year with the travel.
Each had returned from Grandmother’s on Green Gardens messed up. Morgain, of course, had been bossy before she left, but she really became pushy after coming home, as well as vindicative if she didn’t get her way. Vivian had simply become self-absorbed and kind of wild, ignoring Maeve most of the time, but Nimue? She shuddered as she thought of her next oldest sister. She didn’t want to be like any of them, but especially Nimue, who hurt people for fun. It was no wonder that Dad sent them away, one by one, after they returned. Regardless, yes, she thought she could manage copying the little petty officer.
“Won’t being annoying make people notice me?” she hissed back.
Patel shook her head. “Just the opposite. If people think they know your type, and it’s non-threatening, you’ll become part of the background. They’ll ignore you, especially if they think you’re someone who deals better with machines and problems than people.”
Maeve nodded and sat back, pondering. Priscilla leaned across from her seat, a deadly serious look on her face. She ordered, “Start now, Maeve. Remember, no lapses. This is who you are from now on.”
Considering for a moment more, she decided her role model would feel unhappy and try to figure out why her perfect little world had been upset. It helped that she felt a bit that way naturally this morning, so she took a deep breath before diving in. “Lieutenant,” she whined loudly to Priscilla, “why did you get me out of bed? I don’t have duty until 0800. I had those two installations scheduled for this morning. When will I get those done?”
Priscilla smiled briefly before putting a stern expression on her face. “At ease, Ellyllyon. We’ve been ordered to provide secure communications for the cruiser Bring It for a mission to Thirteenth Sector. You’ll get sleep when the rest of us do. Erdogan stood watch till midnight and you don’t see her complaining. As for the items scheduled to support Camp Y, they’ll have to figure it out on their own.”
“Humph. I hope they do it right, then. I don’t like fixing other people’s mistakes.” Maeve went on, whining even louder before pouting. From across the truck Mai Ling rolled her eyes but smiled. Maeve jumped into her role with relish. “Remember the last time? It took me two hours to straighten things out.”
Fifteen minutes later they rolled through the shuttle port gate. As soon as they stopped, they were ordered to get off. Jumping down from the truck, their eyes were momentarily blinded by the light pooling at the foot of a large shuttle. Men and women milled around, loading gear.
A burly man with an SP brassard on his arm loomed out of the darkness. “Hustle it up, gals. We need to get going and you’re the last group here.” He seemed to have an evil cast to his features. “Captain doesn’t like anyone holding him up.” Shocked, Maeve couldn’t believe anyone would speak to an officer that way, much less Priscilla. She watched as Priscilla’s eyes became slits, simply staring the man silently down. A minute passed. Finally the bully came to attention, saluting. “Ma’am.”
“Petty Officer Yung,” she barely acknowledged, returning the salute negligently.
“I’ll have your bags stowed,” he offered quickly.
“Thank you. Let’s go, ladies,” she ordered.
“But their bags,” Yung pointed out.
“Yes?” Priscilla asked dangerously. Maeve recognized the tone; Priscilla had loaded up to really let this guy have it.
Yung snapped to attention. “Yes, ma’am!” Turning to some of the ground crew. “You three,” he yelled, “get these ladies’ bags stowed. Now!” He stormed off, exercising his authority on other people around the shuttle.
The team surrounded Maeve at the entryway while Priscilla watched their bags being stowed. Finally, they followed her aboard. Priscilla pointed to two rows toward the rear on the left with Maeve in the window seat, or what would have been a window seat if there had been windows on this shuttle. Priscilla shared the row with her, leaving an empty seat between them, the other three sitting directly behind. Priscilla dropped her shoulder bag with her personal things on the empty middle seat. A couple of Commander Bhat’s men approached them as if to sit in the empty seat, but Priscilla’s cold, cutting stare kept the seat free despite the shuttle being fairly full. After the whistle, Maeve didn’t want to sit anywhere near these guys. Commander Bhat apparently had boarded the shuttle as soon as they’d arrived, because he now stepped into the cabin from the pilot’s compartment up front. Maeve felt him eyeing the situation in the cabin, blank-faced, before closing the door with a clang behind him. She realized with a shudder that whatever else Bhat might be, he didn’t appear stupid.
Maeve didn’t feel like chattering any more. Fortunately, Priscilla sitting beside her gave her a built-in military excuse for silence.
CNS Pechnaya, Taad Ka Ped, Ninth Sector
0650 BBMT 8 November 3469
The swirling clouds of the planet Maidan intrigued Morgain uch Robert. Her supernova, Pechnaya, rode majestically above the planet she could kill if she took a fancy to the idea.
Which she just might. “Commissioner Kaur, you must decide whether you will preside over a living planet that forms part of Ninth Sector under my leadership . . . or a dead one.”
Actually, whatever he decided didn’t matter, when Task Force 9-4 showed up in a few hours to rescue him, she would snap it up and include the survivors in her fleet. Frankly, the constant ambushes and small-scale actions were beginning to erode her strength and she needed to rebuild Task Force 9-1. She had chosen the Taad Ka Ped system to draw in the enemy for two reasons. First, TF 9-4 had become much weaker than hers from fighting with Eighth Sector units. Second, 9-4 headquartered much of its resupply activities on Maidan and couldn’t afford to lose it, or so her staff thought.
Ba Ng called from the bridge. “Many ships entering system, Your Highness.”
She smiled. “Very good. Let’s go greet our new acquisitions.”
Ba Ng stayed on as she finished. “In addition to the nova Incendiary of 9-4 we have identified nova Prairie Fire from TF 9-3. If the sensors are correct, we are outnumbered. Badly. We may not break even if we follow through with the ambush plan.”
Morgain wanted to punish Commander Ng, but her mind coolly calculated that he simply spoke the truth. She could punish someone, however. Calling the captain, she demanded, “Hit all of the TF 9-4 facilities with kinetics.”
A soft cough behind her caught her attention. Her guest spoke. “If you do this, they’re likely to combine with some other units outside the sector and strike all of your major planets.”
He didn’t say another word, but he didn’t have to. Morgain wished what he said could be ignored, but until she ruled the Core, she would have to wait for vengeance in some cases. She could do one thing, however, for that rat Commissioner Kaur, who must have called for help and now must be laughing at her.
Opening her line to the bridge, she looked at her captain. “One strike only, Captain. The archeonA facility. When I come back, I don’t want anything interfering with my finding Kaur and treating him in a way he richly deserves.”
“Aye, Your Highness.”
Morgain faced her guest. “As difficult as it is to find spare parts for our archeon facilities, they shouldn’t be able to rebuild this one anytime soon. Satisfied?”
Her guest smiled thinly. “It makes the point without starting an all-out war of extinction.” He then stepped toward her.
Still disgruntled, she let him work her out of her bad mood in private.
Commander’s Belle, Delross System, Fourth Sector
2140 BBMT 6 February 3470
Former Marine Lieutenant Austin Carhart sat swinging back and forth in his command chair as he observed the bridge activity. Normally he preferred to leave operating the ship to Captain Argus Steed, but not today, too much rode on this transaction. Frankly, he needed the money to continue operating at a high level while he looked for Hugh Cascade.
From the sensor station came the report, “Freighter coming in slow and easy. No signature of weapon activation, standard civilian shield. All other shipping in-system over an hour away.”
“Thank you. Shield to maximum, just in case Mister Innocent has a friend around we haven’t seen. Power up weapons.”
“Aye, sir,” came from lasers, missiles, and guns, as well as shields. Moments later all reported readiness.
Carhart smiled to himself. Truth be told, he loved action and probably had taken on this commission as much to break the boredom of selling information to the highest bidder as for the money. That the deal would take place in his own back yard, a mere three hundred light-years from his base at Forth Sector’s capital, had made it irresistible . . . and possibly a trap.
Glancing over at Argus Steed standing near the weapons panel, he smiled to himself. Steed hadn’t said anything after Carhart decided to personally take the job of delivering this Petal Detox vaccine to Levan, but he had been very vocal about this being not a good idea before that. Steed still didn’t like it, even with the transfer being made in vacuum to avoid contamination from the virus that currently ravaged Levan.
Which was one of the other reasons why they were taking payment in the rare earths Levan specialized in out here; no one wanted to catch the disease, which made the victim go rapidly senile before the body completely shut down. An organ at a time.
Steed faced him. “Cargo team ready.”
Carhart asked, unnecessarily, “Decon ready to go?”
Steed nodded.
The freighter pulled up on their port side just outside shield limit.
“Keep shields up, move package to limit, directly in front of port guns.”
“Aye.” Carhart watched as the cargo team performed flawlessly. Something they had practiced before arriving several times. Flying to Second Sector for the vaccine had given them plenty of time to go over all contingencies.
“Freighter dropping shield.” Carhart didn’t bother to acknowledge. The next few minutes would determine whether this very expensive operation had been worth it or not. Or if he had wasted his time and money. And maybe his life.
He didn’t bother pretending to be disinterested any longer but leaned forward. A very large palette moved out of the freighter’s cargo bay, guided by drones.
“Scan.”
“Package contains only the refined products specified.”
Carhart gave Steed an I-told-you-so look.
“Drones are armed, though not active at this moment. They are warmed up, however.”
Steed gave him the same look back.
Carhart sighed and leaned back. “You were right, Captain. Apparently, these people can’t be trusted.”
Steed allowed himself to say, “Would you be, with that bug down there? Likely want to know where we bought the antidote and plan on using the Belle to get more.”
“And infect a whole sector doing it if they’re not careful. The same reason no one would bring them the vaccine in the first place: they aren’t terribly trustworthy people.” Sitting back up, Carhart ordered, “Cargo team, back to the ship, leave package in place. Lasers, begin picking off drones.” One blew up a moment later.
Raising an eyebrow at his com tech, she opened a channel without a word. Good to have professional people working for him. “Freighter Tagus 1204, this is Peer Drunnan. You just broke our deal, which makes me very unhappy.” As he spoke, the weapons screen showed a second drone explode.
“What are you doing?” cried a woman hysterically on his com screen. “We have your payment as requested.”
“And armed drones bringing it with weapons warmed up. Here’s what we’re going to do, double the price. Palette will be placed next to first, drones withdrawn. You take vaccine with your drones after we move the shield back. Any funny business. We blow up the vaccine and then you. Questions?”
The woman agreed. “Okay, but we’ll have to go back to Levan for more refined product.”
Carhart glanced toward Steed, now standing at the sensor panel. “They’re loaded, sir. Probably on their way out-system on a delivery run after getting the vaccine.”
Carhart hadn’t bothered to mute the channel as Steed reported. The woman’s face hardened. Apparently, the panic she had exhibited before had been an act. They had planned the whole thing. The likelihood of this being a trap grew exponentially the longer this took.
“You have ten minutes. And whoever you have coming in on ballistic orbit, tell them to stop before I stop them. Permanently.” Carhart sat back to watch the reaction.
The woman now looked haughty. “You can’t escape, you’re surrounded. Our defense forces are moving in as we speak. Surrender or we’ll destroy you and your fast freighter.”
Stupid and incompetent, bad combination. “Just to refresh your memory, we set this rendezvous point after you left Levan. None of your ships are close enough to help you.”
She smiled again. “You think.” Two combat shuttles came around the freighter as she spoke. The sensor tech spoke now. “Bogies. Armed and hot. Must have been hiding in ship’s shadow.”
Carhart didn’t even need to say anything. From the weapons panel the tech reported, “Missile one away, two away, reloading. Lasers taking on shuttles directly.
“Bogies firing. Shields holding,” Sensor tech reported, “Bogies down.”
Almost immediately, the weapons tech added, “Freighter had laser mounts hidden on skin, lasers and guns firing. Penetrating freighter shield.”
The ballet concluded with the sensor tech. “Air escaping from freighter. No evident damage to propulsion.”
The freighter came back cold as ice. “You can’t get away with this.”
Carhart smiled mildly. “Another palette, now. Otherwise I will order your propulsion targeted and then come take what I want. And by the way, that little misdirection play of telling me I’m surrounded when I know there is no one nearby, very amateur. Next time you try to rob someone, be a bit more creative.”
“Who are you?” she demanded. “You’re not a merchant.”
Carhart simply nodded. After a moment, he added, “After your little stunt, you have eight minutes to get me my payment.” Looking at the com tech, she cut the transmission without another word.
Leaving the bridge, Carhart felt surprisingly deflated. If things had gone as planned, no combat would have happened. He had expected something to happen, however, meaning he had been prepared for something like the shuttles. In fact, he had been impressed by the way they tried to carry out their hijack, it actually being a smart play on their part. It would have worked if he hadn’t suspected such an attempt. Regardless, he could already feel himself coming down from the combat high. And he had unending paperwork to take care of now that the fun was over.
Worse, a little voice in the back of his head wondered if he were wasting his life chasing something he could never have. He hadn’t gotten any closer to taking over the empire than when he started after Deft. He shook his head, firmly ignoring the voice. He could and would be the power behind the throne.
Manual for Courts-Martial (MCM)
