No Honor in Death (45 page)

The exhausted and subdued ship's surgeon had released almost half of the wounded back to light duties, but the rest would need base hospital attention.  Some, like Demianova, were in for a lengthy stay.  Two waited in stasis, their bodies too badly damaged for even Luttrell to try.  Hopefully the specialists could revive them.  Otherwise, Siobhan would have two more letters to write.

Their unbalanced jumps had further aggravated the damage to the engines and hull.  Some privately considered it a miracle that they made it home unassisted.  But make it they did.  A few hours earlier, the
Stingray
had slowly and carefully dumped her remaining anti-matter fuel, giving birth to bright tail not unlike that of a comet as the anti-matter molecules, pushed away from the ship by a magnetic funnel, reacted with the sparse matter present in inter-planetary space.  Maybe someone on the planet below had seen them in the night sky and wondered which ship returned home too damaged to dock with full tanks.  If anyone still cared after five years of war.

"Any instructions from Space dock control?"  Siobhan slipped into the command chair, still warm from Pushkin's occupation.

"None.  They told us to stand by."

"Strange."  Siobhan shrugged.  A few minutes wait would not change a blessed thing now. Still, damaged ships had priority docking.

"Sir, I'm getting a number of small contacts aft," Chief Penzara reported, puzzlement creasing his weathered face.  "Looks like two squadrons of F-22 fighters.  They're headed our way, no mistake."

"On screen."

Pushkin whistled at the sight.  The two groups of twelve sleek fighters in close formation were things of beauty.  Obviously the double-seaters were part of the base's defence wing, back from some training mission.  Then again, maybe not.  They slowed until they were level with the frigate, one squadron on either side, a few hundred metres out.  An escort?  Siobhan was about to speak when the radio came to life.

"
Stingray
, this is Space dock control.  You are cleared to dock under your own power at docking port one.  Welcome home."

Guthren turned around to stare uncomprehendingly at Dunmoore.  Ships were rarely permitted to dock without the assistance of tugs.  Especially not battle-damaged ships.  And docking port one was the highest, the best, the one closest to the station's habitat levels.  The one usually reserved for ships who distinguished themselves.

"
Stingray
, this is Rapier One," an unknown voice chimed in behind the Space dock controller.  "Your escorts, the 301st and 302nd Defence Squadrons, are in place and ready at your command. And may I say it's an honor for us, sir."

"Thank you, Rapier One,"  Siobhan replied, somewhat dazed at the turn of events.  "It appears all is forgiven, people," she said to the bridge crew at large, undefined emotions chasing each other across her eyes.  Permission to dock unaided was an honor in itself, sometimes given to ships that had distinguished themselves on a patrol.  But a two squadron escort on top of that?

The same realization spread, leaving smiles of disbelief and then pride in its wake.  Siobhan was aware she wore a silly, girlish grin, but didn't care.  "Mister Pushkin, please inform the crew that we will dock unaided, and with a fighter escort.  Tell 'em to look out the window and enjoy the sights.  They've earned it."

"Mister Guthren," she squared her shoulders and sat-up straight.  "Aft thrusters, five seconds burn at half power.  Take us in."

"Aye, aye,
sir
!"

"Number One, deploy the battle flag and our commissioning streamer, and set the navigation strobes to three short and one long blinks.  Oh, and Mister Pushkin, make sure the running lights are on our kill marks so everyone can see.  We're coming home in style."

Slowly, majestuously, the missile frigate
Stingray
closed the distance to the gaping space dock doors, navigation strobes blinking the Morse code for the letter V, for victory, stiff flag and streamer stretching out from the commo array and the six red dragons marking her kills brightly illuminated.  But the lights also illuminated the heavy battle damage, the black scars, gaping holes and twisted turrets.  She had paid for the kill marks dearly.

The space doors grew on screen until they blanked out even the station's hull.  After a wing-wagging salute and message from Rapier One, the 301st and 302nd Defence Squadrons peeled off to port and starboard, their ceremonial mission completed.  Siobhan did not know what kind of a sight her ship made for onlookers, whether she looked like a truly heroic survivor, or simply like a pathetic near-wreck.  But then, she had other thoughts to occupy her bemused mind.

"Cox'n, forward thrusters four second burn.  Engage."

The frigate's forward motion slowed to a crawl as she crossed the threshold into the cavernous space dock.  Four other ships were at anchor, their hulls brightly illuminated for the occasion.  Ahead, on the opposite end of the docking area, a giant screen, used to transmit visual docking instructions flashed the words 'Welcome home, Stingray.'

"Cor,"  Chief Penzara whispered in awe, "will you bleedin' look at that."  All of the windows overlooking the space dock were black with people, station personnel watching the
Stingray
come in.  "Looks like they turned out the bleedin' garrison for us."

"Cox'n, full stop."  They were level with docking port one.  "Mister Pushkin, activate tractor beam to settle us in."

"In position," he reported a few moments later.

"Drop anchor,"  Siobhan joked, smiling.  She suspected she knew what was about to happen next.  The docking clamps latched on to the
Stingray
with a loud thud.  At that moment, a military band, the music retransmitted over the open frequency, broke into a jaunty naval tune.

"Commonwealth Star Ship
Stingray
," a deep, commanding voice cut through the music.  It took Siobhan a few heartbeats to recognize it as Nagira's.  "From the Commander, Commonwealth Starfleet, you have been awarded the Commonwealth Unit Citation for valour.  Congratulations.  I am proud to have you under my command."  Then, Nagira snapped out an order which was not directed at the frigate.  "Third Fleet will man the yards!"

Commander Siobhan Dunmoore, Captain of the
Stingray
felt a shiver course down her spine as emotion welled-up uncontrollably.  Manning the yards, an ancient tradition to salute valour, was a rare honor in this day and age.  Nagira was really pulling out all the stops.  She rose, adjusted her tunic and came to attention.  Pushkin motioned the others to follow suit until everyone aboard the ship stood at attention facing view screens or portholes.

"Three cheers for the
Stingray
," the Admiral called-out.  "Hip, hip, hip!"

"Hurrah," a storm of voices replied as the small figures in the windows doffed their berets and waved them above their heads.

"Hip, hip, hip!"

"Hurrah."

The huge space dock screen went blank and then came back to life to display a giant silver stingray, coiled to attack.  Below, one by one, six red dragons, brothers to those painted on the frigate's hull, popped into view and began flashing.

"Hip, hip, hip!"

"Hurrah."

As the last cry faded into the flourish of drums, bugles and bagpipes, Siobhan felt her eyes fill with tears of pride.  And she was not alone.  Pushkin's brief, whispered comment spoke volumes.

"My God!"

The band segued into the national anthem and then faded away as the onlookers returned to their stations.  The
Stingray
's glorious return was over.  But her crew would remember it for the rest of their lives.

"Secure ship, Number One.  We have a lot to do."

"Sir," Kowalski interrupted.  "Message from Control.  Admiral Nagira will board the
Stingray
in five minutes."

"Shit," Siobhan swore.  They were in no state to receive a three-star Admiral.

Pushkin and Guthren glanced at each other, the latter nodding.  Then Pushkin raised his hand, palm outwards.  "No worry, skipper.  You've got time to change into dress uniform.  We'll take care of everything else.  Admiral Nagira will be received with full honors."

Siobhan grinned, blinking back another surge of feeling. 
Damn shame this ship is going to the knackers!
  A further surprise awaited her in her cabin.  Vincenzo, already in full dress, had laid out her uniform and waited to help her change.  Four minutes later, Siobhan was on her way to the main airlock, moving amidst grinning spacers busily carrying out the First Officer's orders.  Life aboard the
Stingray
would go on, Admiral's visit or no Admiral's visit.

A quarter guard, under Lieutenant Devall's orders, was already lined up by the airlock.  Their immaculate dress uniforms, gleaming weapons and shiny boots would have put the SecGen's guards to shame.  On either side of the armoured hatch itself, Chief Foste and five bosun's mates, also turned out in perfect, recruiting poster-like uniforms, waited to pipe the Admiral aboard with their silver calls.

At some unheard signal, Foste touched the airlock's control panel and the heavy hatch slid out of the way, opening up on the short tube connecting ship to base.  On the station side of the tube, sentries, two of the
Stingray
's spacers, snapped to attention and presented arms in unison as Admiral Nagira strode by, returning the salute.  Siobhan couldn't have asked for a smarter reception.  The Bosun and her mates raised their calls to their lips, wetting them in preparation.

The Admiral was alone, without a staff officer or flag lieutenant, which was as unusual as his unexpected and rather inconvenient visit, even if it was an honor for the ship.

"Guard, atten-SHUN!"

Then, as one, the bosun's calls twittered, welcoming the commander of the 3rd Fleet aboard the frigate
Stingray
.

TWENTY-FOUR

"Very impressive, Captain,"  Nagira smiled as Siobhan led him off after he had  inspected the quarter guard.  "I am happy to see such a smart, proud crew."  His eyes twinkled with more than just pleasure and Siobhan knew it had been a test, something to show him how well she had turned the crew around, how much they cared about making their Captain and ship look good.  She had passed the test and felt like thumbing her nose at him.

"Your quarters, I think,"  Nagira nodded towards the main lift.  "We have much to discuss, Captain.  Your First Officer is more than able to handle this ship alone for a while."

"As you wish, sir."  He would see something of a mess, but there was no helping that.  He hadn't given her time to prepare for his visit.  Deliberately.

The hatch to Siobhan's cabin opened with a whisper at their approach.  She shouldn't have worried about anything.  Vincenzo, in full dress uniform, was standing beside the desk, a steward's white cloth over his left forearm.  The cabin would have done a boot camp drill sergeant proud, with not an item out of place or a speck of dust to mar its perfection.  A gleaming coffee pot from the wardroom and fine china cups waited on the desk.  Half-hidden behind the pot, Siobhan saw a dark green bottle of Dordogne brandy, one of Helen Forenza's private stock, now the property of the ship.

Nagira glanced around, his eyes missing nothing, then examined the ram-rod straight bosun's mate.  Vincenzo met Nagira's gaze with calm confidence.  The Admiral nodded, as if satisfied, and turned his attention to the bookshelf with its antique ship's clock.  As if on cue, it rang eight bells, four in the afternoon.

Siobhan gave Vincenzo a grateful look, which he returned with a sheepish smile and a shrug.

"Coffee, sir?" She asked.

"Oh, aye, Captain.  And a splash of that reactor coolant you have masquerading as brandy.  The sun is over the yardarm somewhere in the universe, eh?"  He turned around and smiled as Vincenzo poured with a steady hand.  When the young man had served the two officers he glanced questioningly at his Captain.

"Thank you, Vincenzo.  We'll be all right now."  Siobhan smiled warmly, conscious again of the man's touching display of loyalty.

"Yes," Nagira chimed in, "that was well done, Spacer.  My thanks."

Their eyes followed him out of the cabin, and the door closed behind his retreating back.  Somehow, Siobhan knew he would be waiting just outside, ready.

Nagira sipped his brandy-laced coffee and sighed.  "The Dunmoore magic is alive and well, I see."

"Sir?"  Siobhan still felt adrift, her mind a few steps behind Nagira.

"Your crew.  You have charmed them into eating out of your hand, that much is obvious, Siobhan.  I am glad.  I had feared you no longer possessed the spark that gives you your extraordinary character, the one that attracts spacers like moths to a flame.  You have a fine crew, Siobhan, and they an even finer commander.  Your actions will have laid the silly stories about the jinxed ship to rest at last."

"Hence the triumphant return," Siobhan replied tartly.

Nagira smiled.  "For that reason, and many others.  But mainly because you and your crew deserved every moment of it.  You no doubt think I invited myself aboard your ship so shortly after docking as a kind of test.  Oh, do not deny it, Siobhan.  It is written all over your face.  But you should know by now I never do things for only one reason.  I also wished to speak with you before you saw anybody else."

A sudden darkness descended on Siobhan.  "My report."

The Admiral nodded.  "Your report.  In two words: well done.  My faith in you is stronger than ever, though I knew from the start I had made the right choice."

Siobhan's cheeks coloured. He simply watched her in silence, dark eyes narrowed with suppressed amusement.

"I knew it," she replied with asperity.  "Sir, with all due respect, you're a bastard!  You set me up to do your dirty work."

"Peace, Siobhan."  He raised his left hand, palm outwards.  "As I said, I never do things for only one reason.  It is wasteful."  He took another sip.  "I was once a frigate Captain, long ago.  Does that surprise you?  It was the best period in my career, one which I would relive with joy.  Do you know which ship that was?"

Sudden insight struck Siobhan like a fist in the gut.  She nodded weakly.  "The
Stingray
."

"Just so.  This was once my cabin.  I was its first occupant.  The first in a long line of Captains, good, bad or indifferent."  He glanced around.  "She had a fine name in those days and scored many victories.  I would have been much saddened if she was to go into history in disgrace, which is what Admiral Kaleri wanted, to cover herself.  It would also have been a shame to lose such a fine crew in the midst of such a bitter and endless war.  So you see, I had three reasons to give you command of this ship, even if it will not be for a very long time.  Knowing you, I had confidence that you would do all three things with the same stubborn, reckless energy you have displayed ever since I took you on my staff, years ago."  He bowed his head at her with surprising humility.  "I am grateful, Captain. 
Domo arigato
."

"You - you're welcome, sir."  Siobhan was flustered, an unusual sensation .  But the expression in Nagira's eyes had struck a deep chord within her.

"Now, I will complete the story, so that you may appreciate the value of your contribution to resolving this sordid affair.  You may share what I will say with your officers and crew, but they must keep the details to themselves."  He held out his mug for a refill and settled back in the chair, eyes drifting to the porthole, and the brilliantly lit space dock beyond.

"You know that the SSB and Starfleet have been at each other's throats for a long time.  It is a power game, to decide who will carry greater weight in the Commonwealth's affairs.  With its political support and direct relationship with the Secretary General, the SSB was winning the game, working towards the kind of state that appeals to politicians unwilling to face the electorate every few years."

"Then the Empire invaded," Siobhan said softly.

"Just so.  All of a sudden, the SSB found itself with less friends.  It failed to predict the invasion, a mistake we did not make, in great part thanks to your incisive intellect."  Siobhan blushed at the unexpected compliment.  Those heady days on Admiral Nagira's Fleet staff seemed so long ago.  "For five years now, Starfleet has held the ear and purse strings of the mighty, to the SSB's detriment.  Our less than friendly spies found themselves in the frustrating situation of lacking funds just at the time when Commonwealth society was vulnerable to greater secret police - shall we say - intervention.  This, of course, we realized rather quickly and kept a careful watch to counter any moves that could affect the war effort adversely."

"The SSB wouldn't endanger the war effort for their own advancement, surely?" Siobhan sounded indignant, just like the young, brash Lieutenant of five years ago who had attracted Nagira's notice.

"Oh, but they would, Siobhan.  That is the tragedy of human stupidity.  I imagine watching the SSB has become a full-time occupation for Starfleet Security and Counter-Intelligence.  A waste of people, but there you have it.  In any case, about a year ago, one bright CI officer discovered a certain number of minor, but to his mind significant discrepancies in the 31st Battle-Group's affairs. He built a good case, but unfortunately based on the fragile foundations of speculation.  Still, it was enough to convince his superiors to investigate further.  He was sent as staff officer to Starbase 31, where he quietly began to dig up disturbing facts."

Another flash of insight hit Siobhan, though after a few moments' thought, the conclusion she reached seemed all too appropriate.  "Lieutenant-Commander Holt is that officer."

"Correct.  A fine officer, with a mind to rival yours. He first discovered that Admiral Kaleri was shielding a most incompetent starship commander from general scrutiny, leaving her to destroy a perfectly good crew with her stupidity.   Kaleri was no fool and had to be doing this for a reason.  But she had surrounded herself with people she could trust, and who would protect her out of sheer loyalty."

"Like Drex, her former cox'n."

Nagira nodded.  "Indeed.  As you divined, she placed him aboard the
Stingray
because Kaleri did not trust Forenza.  Your predecessor was merely a convenient and pliable tool, never a friend and never to be trusted."

"But why?  That's the one thing I've never understood."

"I am coming to that.  Some bright SSB thinker formulated a plan to generate revenues by stealing from Starfleet, and cast about for a suitable means to enact it.  Just about that time, Admiral Kaleri's family, the once rich Kaleris of  TransCom Enterprises, teetered on the edge of financial ruin thanks to some underhanded and illegal dealings that had gone wrong.  On Earth, losing one's wealth is the worst social crime imaginable.  It threw the family, including the Admiral into despair.  She, of course, had her career and a fine one at that.  When all is said and done, Mila Kaleri was a superior officer who could well have succeeded me, had she not strayed from the path of honor.  But her upbringing defined her place in life through family wealth, and not individual achievement.  Most sad.  SSB, being the swine they are, approached Kaleri and proposed she help them fulfil their plans, for a sizeable profit.  I like to imagine she wrestled with her conscience before accepting, but we shall never know.  Yes, I liked her, once."

"You keep talking of her in the past, sir."

Nagira's lips tightened.  "When I received your report and confirmed its contents, I came to Starbase 31 unannounced on a fast courier.  Admiral Kaleri heard of my arrival, and I assume the cause of my visit, two hours before we docked.  I have a leak on my staff, but that is my problem.  When I arrived, her Flag Lieutenant found her sitting at her desk, in full dress uniform with sword, a blaster in her right hand and the top of her skull spattered all over the bay windows."

"Suicide?"  Siobhan did not know how to feel about Kaleri escaping justice, if justice would ever have been served.

"No doubt at all.  A note in her own hand-writing apologized for her fall from grace."  Nagira seemed disturbed by his words and Siobhan knew he'd seen the body himself.  "In the end, the thought of facing the consequences of a scheme which had escaped her control left her no way out." He sighed.  "It was the only way she could see to redeem at least part of herself.  As I said, she was a good officer.  Under different circumstances, you would have enjoyed serving under her."

"So the SSB convinced her to hand over parts and supplies for a cut of the profits, hiding the peculation behind the
Stingray
's books, courtesy of a compliant commander."

"Oh yes.  Your ship was only one part of the equation, and I suspect only one funnel, if the most important of them.  Of course, we needed proof and had to discover how it was done.  That is were you came in.  I must confess, it was a matter of serendipity more than calculation.  Kaleri was protecting Forenza as best she could, hiding her misdeeds, but I fear the relationship became strained.  At first, Kaleri believed she could control Forenza by giving her the command she should never have held and warning her of its loss should she not cooperate.  But as the scheme went into full swing, Forenza held her own threats over Kaleri's head.  Your predecessor was a cunning, if utterly stupid woman, prey to her sensuality and perversions.  With the SSB and Kaleri both providing independent agents to control her, it worked long enough to net a fortune.  With the demands of the war, starship parts, fuel, ammunition and other supplies are worth a fortune to smugglers, neutrals and probably even Shreharis outside their navy's supply chain.  The figures your friend Holt has amassed indicate the SSB's net profits surpassed the gross domestic product of a fair sized planet.  Thus, I suspect Forenza would have met with an unfortunate accident at the slightest sign of betraying Kaleri."

"Instead, crew members died."  Siobhan let her bitterness show.

"Unfortunate.  We can only speculate, the principals being unreachable by now."

"Yes, but our speculation would be so close to the mark to make no bloody difference.  Hell, the scheme couldn't work forever.  All it took was a keen purser's mate to wonder why the captain handled bills of lading whenever they were re-supplied by tender.  Most likely, Melchor got hold of the camouflage manifest, the one for Starfleet which listed a full consignment and realized it listed a lot more than what they really got.  He paid for his curiosity with his life.  I'd say Forenza did it to make sure she would keep her little perverted kingdom.  She sure as hell didn't need the money."

Nagira nodded.  "As you say.  Though her means of keeping the crew from uniting against her were effective enough, if murderous."

"Yes, fear.  It permeated the ship when I came on board.  She really kept them down, damn her soul to hell."  She glanced away, fighting to swallow her rage.

"But she made one mistake which destroyed everything.  I was searching for a way to remove her from the
Stingray
so that we might break the conspiracy.  Forenza handed it to me on a silver platter and even Kaleri could not object."

"The
Victoria Regina
's call for assistance."

"Thanks to Lieutenant-Commander Pushkin's retransmission, we had evidence to show Forenza had the time and means to render assistance, but failed to do so.  Cowardice in the face of the enemy.  It was enough for me.  Mila Kaleri acquiesced and recommended I advance the
Stingray
's decommissioning by several months and disperse the crew.  It was an attempt to protect herself.  She let Forenza hang out to dry, though by what threats did she buy her silence, we shall never know.  Then, you brought the
Victoria Regina
home and I knew you were the one to set things right again."