Martial Law 1: Patriotic Treason (8 page)

“I know,” I said. I was always a little shy around Alice. She scared the crap out of me. She was the type of woman who would go walking through dark alleyways, confident that the night held nothing more dangerous than her. If I hadn’t known her reputation, I might even have asked her out on a date; Marines weren’t in the same chain of command. “It’s just beautiful.”

“You’ll also have a much greater chance of appreciating it in the future if you get on with the patrol,” Alice said, dryly. I nodded reluctantly. I might be senior officer on the shuttle, but that was only as long as I obeyed the Captain’s orders. “Which ship do you want to board?”

I looked down at the live feed from System Command. A handful of freighters had already been inspected by the local UN detachment and marked as clear. A couple more had immunity from inspection and had to be left alone. That left seventeen freighters in orbit that needed to be inspected. The smallest of them made our starship look tiny. It was going to be a long day.

“That one,” I said, finally. I pointed to the icon representing a massive bulk freighter. The manifest claimed that it was transporting vital farming machinery to Amish, something that made little sense until I recalled that Amish was a low-tech world with a thriving trade in illegal technology. The people who had founded the planet had wanted a life free of the corrupting influence of technology, but some of the settlers had disagreed when they’d finally discovered just what a low-tech life was like. The crew of the freighter would stand to make a huge profit if they delivered to the right people. “I’m taking us in now.”

The smaller the craft, the faster it could build up acceleration. I triggered the drive field and swooped down towards the freighter, transmitting our IFF signal ahead of us. By law, we had to keep a safe distance from any other craft while performing an intercept, but I skirted the border as close as I dared. Flying the shuttle was different to flying an ordinary aircraft. I could do things in a shuttle that would be impossible in a jet aircraft. I could even turn on a credit piece.

“They’re acknowledging,” Alice said. I allowed myself a moment of relief. We were legally authorised to inspect any starship, but the independent freighter crews tended to dislike us encroaching on their territory. It wasn't unknown for shuttle crews to suffer accidents. In theory, all of the freighters were unarmed; in practice, there were dozens of interesting tricks freighter crews could pull to give them some teeth. The Captain would avenge our deaths, unless the freighter made it clear before the starship could intercept, but that wouldn’t save our lives. “They’re demanding a full copy of our authorisations.”

“Send it,” I ordered. The Senior Chief had warned me about that too. We harass them, they harass us…and the winner is the one who keeps his cool. “Order them to open a docking port for us and signal location.”

“Done,” Alice said. A new icon blinked into existence on my display. “They’ve opened a port, sir.”

I nodded. By law, all starships have to have compatible equipment, but I wouldn’t have put it past a freighter crew to tamper with it in some way to make docking harder, particularly as it wasn't something I could charge them for. Freighters operate close to the margins and it wasn't unknown for them to have maintenance problems that couldn’t be handled outside a shipyard. I slowed the shuttle, carefully matched course and speed, and linked the two ships together. A moment later, we were docked.

“Matching pressure now,” Crewman Frederick Jones said. He was a big hulking man who didn’t look as if he could be intimidated by anyone short of the Senior Chief. I had the impression that he was the real escort for me, as well as the real inspector. What did I know about searching a starship? I’d barely had a chance to inspect the diagrams of the freighter. “Hatches opening.”

I reached for my cap and set it on my head. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go meet the neighbours.”

The freighter captain and two of his crew were waiting for us as we stepped out of the airlock. The captain reminded me of Captain Harriman, except he had a long beard – forbidden to UNPF naval officers – and a slight paunch. His expression was carefully controlled, but I was sure that I could sense an underlying anger and concern. The Senior Chief had briefed me carefully and warned me to ignore anything apart from actual smuggling, but the Captain wouldn’t know that. A proper examination of his ship would probably end up with his licence being confiscated on the grounds his ship was unfit to fly. The other two crewmen didn’t bother to hide their disdain.

“Welcome onboard my ship,” the Captain said, calmly. “I am Captain Scott, master of the Underlying Liberty, out of Williamson’s World. I also have a cleared window to depart in an hour, so I suggest that we move along with it.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, and then caught myself. He reminded me so much of my Captain that obedience was automatic. “Ah, we can clear a later window if necessary, but I’m sure it won’t be. May I see your manifest?”

The Captain nodded to one of his crewmen, who passed me a datapad. I pulled out my terminal and compared it briefly to the manifest System Command had sent me. It was largely identical, although two crewmen on the original list were missing, replaced with new names and faces.

“They decided that they would prefer another ship,” the Captain explained, when I asked. “There’s no shortage of berths around here for qualified crewmen and some other Captain made them an offer. I had to take on two more to replace them.”

“I see,” I said, puzzled. “Didn’t they sign a contract to work for you for several years?”

He smiled at my naivety. “Not in the real world,” he said, dryly. “A senior crewman can earn far more by advancing up the ladder owning to his experience, not to his political connections. No crewman would accept such a contract unless they were really desperate and probably unsuited for the job. This isn’t Earth, you know.”

I flushed slightly. “No, sir,” I agreed. On Earth, it was extremely difficult to get rid of an employee unless there was clear proof of criminal activity. The UN had finally granted the workers all the rights they’d sought since time out of mind. Things were definitely different outside the Solar System. “I’ll need to inspect the newcomers cards…”

“They have already been cleared by System Command,” the Captain said, still calmly. I wondered if he was mocking me slightly, but his face was still blank. “I can have copies fired over to your starship if you like, but System Command handled it for us.”

“Good,” I said. This was not going according to plan. “I believe we’ll start with the bridge, if you don’t mind…?”

The Captain probably did mind, but he led us down a long corridor, chattering away as if we were welcome guests. The interior corridors were surprisingly clean and tidy – I had been expecting something darker and unpleasant – and decorated with children’s scribbles. The Underlying Liberty was a family-owned ship, I remembered from the manifest; they had special licences to carry children and even give them education onboard the vessel. I envied them. I hadn’t known just how ignorant I was, despite the Academy, until I’d boarded the Jacques Delors. The bridge was neat and tidy, but compared to our bridge it looked primitive, with several consoles merged together and two of them open for inspection. I peered inside, just to be through, but I honestly couldn’t have told a working console from a useless unit. The Engineer probably could have, but he wasn't with us.

“I’ve got two of the kids working on the console,” Captain Scott explained, much to my astonishment. That contravened several safety regulations, but the Senior Chief’s warning hung in my mind and I disregarded it. I’d have to make a report to the Captain, but there was little point in harassing anyone now. “They’re learning how to carry out repairs without spare components.”

“Impressive,” I said, and meant it. We’d been taught that when a component becomes faulty, it has to be replaced. We didn’t know how to open a component and repair it if there were no spares available. It was no wonder that the First Lieutenant had so much paperwork to do. A missing component at the wrong time could doom the entire vessel and crew. “We need to inspect the cargo holds as well, and then we’ll leave you to your window.”

The Captain took us down a set of stairs – no intership cars for a freighter – and into the main cargo hold. It was a massive modular structure – normally, the freighter would simply unload them all in orbit, rather than trying to land – packed with cargo crates. A handful had been sealed by UN authority and I left those alone, but we opened up a couple more and checked them against the manifest. I wouldn’t have known a piece of farming gear from a cargo of illegal weapons, but the Marines seemed calm and the Captain didn’t look nervous.

“It all seems fine,” I said, finally. I had the legal authority to insist on a full search, but there were no grounds for it and the Captain would be annoyed with me. I’d be cleaning toilets for the next month with a toothbrush. “Thank you for your time.”

“You’re welcome,” Captain Scott said. I knew he didn’t mean it, but I accepted it graciously. “I hope to see you again sometime.”

We were back onboard the shuttle and heading away from the freighter before I realised what he meant.

“We’re picking up an order from System Command,” Alice said, suddenly. “They want us to inspect this freighter here.”

I blinked. The small freighter was pulling away from the planet. I checked the log and it had an open window to depart, but I took the shuttle after it anyway. System Command probably had a reason for it. There was no reason why the freighter couldn’t continue its journey after we’d inspected it, either. The concept of opening a departure window had been outdated centuries ago.

“Hail them,” I ordered. “Tell them to heave to and prepare to be boarded.”

“Done,” Alice said. The freighter’s drive seemed to increase in power. “There is no response.”

I stared. The freighter was trying to outrun us. They didn’t have a hope…unless they managed to reach a safe distance from the planet’s gravity well, where they could open a wormhole and vanish. I ran through the calculations quickly. If they managed to stay ahead of us for three more minutes, they could wormhole out and we’d never see them again. What the hell were they carrying that was so important?

“It must be illegal weapons,” Alice murmured. “What else could it be?”

I wanted the Captain to give me orders, but even if I called the Jacques Delors directly and asked for orders, the Captain would tell me that I was in command. He’d given me the responsibility and I couldn’t shirk it. It would have been easy to hesitate long enough to let the freighter go, but I remembered the battle on Terra Nova and shuddered. I wasn’t going to let more illegal weapons loose if I could help it.

“Pursuit course,” I said, engaging the drive. The shuttle leapt forward as if it had been stung by a bee. Under such orders, I could ignore most safety regulations and I took a hellish delight in skimming closer to another freighter. “Alice, charge weapons; prepare to engage.”

“Aye, sir,” Alice said. I was astonished that there was no sarcasm in her tone. She seemed confident that I could handle the task without prodding. “Lasers ready, sir; shields deployed.”

I nodded. On the face of it, we were engaging a behemoth, but the freighter couldn’t hope to outrun us, or even destroy us if we were careful. I looked down at the manifest from System Command and frowned. It didn’t list any weapons at all, but that proved nothing.

“Transmit a sterner warning,” I ordered, still puzzled. They might escape, but not without us taking a bite out of them. Maybe I was being foolish, but I wasn’t going to allow them to escape so easily, whatever they were smuggling. “Tell them to stand down their drives at once or we open fire.”

“Signal sent,” Alice said. There was a long pause. I was starting to wonder if I would have to fire into the vessel, or perhaps try to force-board them, before the drive field flickered out of existence. “They’re standing down their drives now.”

“I don’t understand,” I muttered, wishing – again – that I could consult the Captain. I tapped a key, sending a full data download to the Jacques Delors, but the Captain probably wouldn’t issue any different orders. The ball was still in my court. “Prepare to dock.”

The mystery was solved the moment we stepped onboard the small freighter, weapons ready. The Captain was surrounded by a group of unregistered men, their faces tired and desperate, pleading for mercy. I didn’t understand until we took their biometrics and compared them to System Command’s download; they were all listed as wanted criminals. Somehow, the Captain had managed to move over two hundred criminals onto his ship to transport them out of the system. I sent a signal to System Command, asking for reinforcements and a crew for the ship, and then searched the remainder of the vessel. We found several women and children, hidden away in various sealed compartments, but none of them were on the wanted list. I wondered if they were kidnap victims, but they seemed unhappy to see us. One attractive blonde even tried to kick a Marine in the groin.

Once the reinforcements had arrived and formally arrested the criminals, who offered no resistance, we returned to the Jacques Delors and I made a full report. The Captain listened quietly, without interrupting, but he wasn't pleased. I could tell that he wasn't pleased, even though he seemed unconcerned and even gave me a note of commendation for my file. There was just…a slow anger burning away in his eyes…