Martial Law 1: Patriotic Treason (42 page)

He nodded. “The Board of Inquiry did raise the issue of allowing you to continue to command the Jacques Delors,” Rutherford said. I felt my heart twist inside me, sharply. I’d grown to love being the Captain. “Some felt that you were too young for a cruiser command, others felt that you had succeeded to command according to regulations and couldn’t be removed from command without weakening the regulations. A load of bull, in my opinion, but Boards of Inquiry get terribly hair-splitting at the best of times. However…

“It seems that you have some powerful friends,” he continued. I blinked in surprise. As far as I knew, I had no powerful friends, with the possible exception of Captain Shalenko. “Captain Harriman spoke highly of you in his letters to his family and his family have apparently decided that approving you as commanding officer of the Jacques Delors would be a suitable legacy for him. You may not be aware of this, but his family have considerable influence in high places and have succeeded in pushing most of the objections out of your way. These are politics well beyond my level, but…the short version is that you have been confirmed as Captain of your ship.”

I felt cold. Favours like that tended to come with strings attached. I would have liked to discuss the issue with Roger, who might have known what was going on, but I had no idea where he was now. With his connections, he might even have made Captain himself by now, maybe even of a cruiser himself. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t trust him enough to talk about my own plans.

“Thank you, sir,” I said, finally. I had my own ship. It was almost enough to leave me well-disposed towards the system.

“I may not have done you any favours,” Rutherford said, shortly. He sat down again and peered at me over his fingers. “Your Political Officer was due for retirement some time ago. It’s not policy to pair up a Political Officer and a Captain for as long as Captain Harriman and Jason Montgomerie were paired up, but no one was too concerned. You’re going to have to learn to tolerate a new Political Officer, I’m afraid.”

I nodded. I had expected as much. “Yes, sir,” I said. “Jason was talking about retiring to Mars or even Luna City.”

“He’ll be extensively debriefed first,” Rutherford said, coldly. I nodded. I hadn’t dared take the Political Officer into my confidence. “However, we’ll assign a new Political Officer to your ship later today. Two of your Lieutenants, I understand, have already put in for transfers. We’re going to be approving those and appointing two new officers in their places. I hope that that meets with your approval?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. The two officers requesting transfer had done so at my suggestion. They’d be going to two different starships to build their own cells. Given enough time, I’d have every starship in the system riddled with my people, ready to take over in one blow. “I understood, however, that Captains had to approve transfers to their own ships.”

“Under normal circumstances, yes,” Rutherford agreed. “However, we have a pair of Lieutenants who require billets and you’re the only ship with open places on the crew roster.”

In other words, don’t argue, I thought, coldly.

“Which brings us neatly to the final matter,” Rutherford concluded. “You seem to have a First Ensign who will not be rising any higher.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, masking my surprise. The Grand Admiral couldn’t be concerned about Sally, could he? The political enemy she’d made must be very well connected. “She’s a good officer and I found her useful in the wardroom while I was training Ensigns.”

“Indeed,” Rutherford said. His voice darkened. “Captain Harriman recommended that she be promoted, but that was unfortunately impossible. Do you still wish to keep her on your vessel?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, firmly. “The Captain would want me to keep her.”

“He probably would,” Rutherford agreed, and dismissed the issue. “I believe that there were actually no plans for your ship’s next cruise as you weren’t expected home for another two months. I suspect that you will either end up being assigned to Captain Shalenko’s escorting force or Admiral Tao’s invasion fleet.”

I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice. “Invasion fleet, sir?”

“We’re going after Williamson’s World,” Rutherford said, coldly. I kept my face blank with an effort. Heinlein had been bad enough. Williamson’s World had to be going all-out to build up their own defences. “We believe that they have been providing covert support to the Heinlein Resistance Fleet as well as building up a defence force of their own.”

I had to admire his honesty. He wasn’t providing any of the bogus reasons the Political Officers had used to justify the invasion of Heinlein. Intelligence might even be right. God knew that the locals would have to be insane not to think that they weren’t on the target list.

“But that will take time to organise,” Rutherford added. He stood up and extended a hand. “Return to your ship. You may dispatch parties for shore leave if you wish, as well as the transferring officers. And congratulations, Captain.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said.

I hadn’t seen much of EarthStar One as I entered, but on the way out my guide showed me the interior of the asteroid. It had been mined out and then spun up to provide gravity, while the interior had been given a biosphere and a breathable atmosphere. The buildings in the main habitation section were luxurious beyond belief. They were the homes of the Admirals who commanded the UNPF and many of the rich or well-connected of Earth. They didn’t want to live down on the surface. It was easy to understand why. EarthStar One was not only the hub of System Command, but the safest place in the solar system. I mulled on that as I boarded the shuttle and flew back to my command. We’d have to take it out or capture it in our opening moves.

Earth looked, if anything, worse than the last time I’d set eyes on the planet. There was a dark cloud of some kind hanging over the ocean, almost like a giant dark eye peering into the vastness of space. I checked the newscasts, but there was no mention of anything like the cloud. The news focused on sporting events and reports of the war on Heinlein, which was on the verge of victory. I couldn’t help, but notice that it had been on the verge of victory for a long time. The accompanying data was sickening. There were videos and recordings from the battlefield, but someone had been at them and the only dead were locals. Some of the videos freely available on Earth’s network were truly disgusting. I couldn’t understand why the UN allowed them to be shown freely, unless they were just a distraction for the civilians down below.

“Congratulations, sir,” the Senior Chief said, when I boarded. I hadn’t sent word ahead, but wearing the Captain’s insignia was proof enough. “What are we going to do now?

“Send the crew on shore leave as we planned,” I ordered. There was no point in deferring that any longer. “Keep a minimum watch on duty, but rotate the others through so everyone gets a few days on the ground, if they want it.”

“Yes, sir,” the Senior Chief said.

“And send Lieutenant Robertson and Lieutenant Hafiz to me before they leave,” I added. “I want to chat with them before they head to their new postings.”

The next two hours passed slowly. I spent them in the Captain’s cabin – my cabin – working on the paperwork. I’d done my best to keep up with the paperwork, but I’d had to leave some things for my successor, if the Admiral had chosen to relieve me. My remaining in command meant that I had to do them myself. I almost regretted it. I signed off on crew evaluations, approved a handful of promotions and pay bonuses for crewmen and read through the Engineer’s final report carefully. If nothing else, the fortnight we’d spent in orbit had allowed us to check every little component in the ship. The report made slightly better reading than the last one.

I was still engrossed in it when the hatch chimed. “Come,” I called. The Captain’s cabin had a security system that required a voiceprint analysis. “Door open.”

The hatch hissed open, revealing a dark figure wearing dress blues. I looked up and felt a smile spreading across my face as I recognised her. “Lieutenant Muna Mohammad reporting for duty, sir,” she said. Her voice was more confident than it had been before, I realised. “Congratulations on your new appointment.”

“Welcome aboard,” I said, with genuine pleasure. I hadn’t heard from her since she’d been promoted alongside me and sent off to a secret project. “It’s good to see you again, Muna. Stand at ease.”

She relaxed and then fell into the chair when I indicated it. I took her proffered datachip and scanned the contents carefully on my terminal. There was nothing on her previous position, excepting only that she’d served with distinction and her commanding officer thoroughly approved her transfer. That, I decided, could be either good or bad, but if he’d hated her, she wouldn’t have been posted to my ship. There were plenty of less prestigious postings.

“It’s good to see you again too, sir,” she said. She held up a hand before I could speak. “I have to warn you that I’m not allowed to discuss anything relating to my prior posting with you or anyone else, even though you’re my superior officer.”

I nodded. “I understand,” I said. I was burning with curiosity – not least because it could prove an unpleasant surprise when I finally made my move – but there was no point in trying to wheedle it out of her. She’d keep her word. I checked her time and grade and nodded again. “You know that you’ll be First Lieutenant?”

“I was told that,” Muna said, seriously. “Do you wish someone else to take the position?”

I shook my head. “My First Lieutenant is leaving the ship, along with four of my Ensigns,” I explained. “You’ll be starting afresh really, so unless you don’t want to be in that position…?”

“I can handle it, sir,” Muna assured me. I trusted her judgement. Indeed, I wondered if I should bring her into the conspiracy, but dismissed the thought for the moment. There would be time enough to bring her in later, if I decided she needed to know ahead of time. The Heinlein files had been very clear on who should – and who shouldn’t – know in advance. We already had too many people in on the secret. “I did wonder about Sally, though…”

“Political problems,” I said, coldly. “Be kind to her, understand?”

Muna nodded. I shouldn’t have worried – she wasn't the kind of person to use superior rank to bully someone – but I wanted to make the warning clear. The last thing I needed was Sally becoming so embittered that she lashed out before the time was right. I could use her for my plan…if she remained alive that long. I was more worried about her than I could admit to anyone, even Muna.

“I will,” she promised. “Do we have orders yet?”

I shook my head. “Nothing apart from take a week’s shore leave,” I explained. “I’m not going to go down to the surface myself, or even Luna City, for a few days, but if you want to take some leave yourself...?”

“I had plenty of time at Luna Base for leave,” Muna said. “I’d sooner get to work.”

I nodded, pleased. “Good,” I said. The intercom chimed and interrupted me. “Yes?”

“Captain, this is Crewman Stanley down at the main airlock,” a voice said. “The Political Officer has arrived.”

“Thank you,” I said. I hadn’t been looking forward to this. “Please show her up at once.”

It was nearly ten minutes before the hatch opened and the Political Officer strode in. I took one look at her and I just knew that we weren’t going to get along. She was tall, with bushy red hair, but her face looked as if she were permanently sucking a sour lemon, perhaps with extra iodine. I decided her nickname would probably be Iodine by the day’s end and hoped that none of the crew used it in her hearing.

“I am Political Officer Deborah Tyler,” she announced, in a voice that was too high and sharp for my tastes. She reminded me a little of a teacher I’d once had before she’d been fired for excessive competence. “Why were you not waiting at the airlock to greet me?”

I refused to scowl at her, or show anything other than a bland smile. “You didn’t give me any notice of your arrival,” I pointed out, calmly. It would probably do no good pointing out command regulations to her. The Captain did not come to meet someone unless they were of superior rank. “Had you done so, I would have been there to greet you.”

“Doubtless,” Deborah sneered. She cast a glance over Muna, with a flicker of her eyes that suggested she didn’t care for people with black skin, and then looked back at me. “I trust that you have all the files in order?”

“Of course,” I said, seriously. She’d go through all the personnel files with a fine-toothed comb. I wished her well of them. It should take her hours to even read the summaries. “Do you wish to begin inspecting them now?”

The next few days didn’t improve her. She insisted on interrogating some of the crew about Captain Harriman’s death and his previous career, before turning the questions around and focusing on me. Muna reported that she was already intensely disliked by almost everyone onboard. I was pretty sure that that was a record. She sent two crewmen for punishment duties after catching them with a stash of porn, and a third for Captain’s Mast after discovering his still.

All in all, it was a relief when Captain Shalenko, my former commanding officer, summoned us to Devastator.

Interlude Three