Shadow of Freedom-eARC (25 page)

Dueñas felt himself waver and stiffened his nerve.

“If you could falsify one set of records, you could falsify as many as you like,” he replied harshly. “And whatever may have or may not have happened in Spindle, you’re in Saltash now. The policies of the Solarian League and the Office of Frontier Security when confronted with acts of terrorism against star systems under Solarian protection are known to the entire galaxy. I can’t prevent you from murdering still more Solarian personnel and endangering the lives, property, and livelihoods of the citizens of Saltash, but I can—and will—refuse to condone your actions or lend them any tincture of legality. If you persist in this blatant aggression, the consequences will be your responsibility, and the ultimate repercussions for your star nation will be far worse than you seem able to grasp.”

“So you’re categorically refusing to release the Manticoran personnel and civilian vessels you’ve illegally imprisoned and seized in this star system?”

“I’m categorically refusing to allow you to violate a legally declared medical quarantine, and I’m categorically refusing to kowtow to the irresponsible and illegal use of naked force against the Solarian League Navy.”

“In that case, and since we seem to be making certain this is all part of the official record, be advised Governor, that I intend to have those personnel and those vessels back.” Zavala’s eyes bored into Dueñas. “I’m informing you now that I intend to put a boarding party aboard Shona Station. If every Manticoran interned in this system is surrendered—
unharmed
—when my personnel board the station, and if the Manticoran freighters held in this system are allowed to depart, no one else needs to be injured or killed. If, however, our people are not surrendered, or if they are harmed in any way, or if those freighters are not allowed to depart unhindered, I will take whatever military action seems appropriate, up to and including the use—the
additional
use—of deadly force. Since it’s evident that attempting to convince you to see reason is about as effective as arguing with a rock, I see no point in further discussion. I’ve informed you of my intentions and of the consequences of continued intransigence on your part. So far as I’m concerned, this conversation is over. I advise you to inform whoever’s in charge of Shona Station that my pinnaces will be docking with the station within fifteen minutes of my destroyers’ arrival in Cinnamon orbit, however.” He showed his teeth. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to get hurt just because they didn’t know we were coming.”

He gazed at Dueñas for another heartbeat, and the governor stared back, trying to find a response. None had come to him before Zavala nodded coldly.

“Good day, Governor Dueñas.”

Chapter Fourteen

Captain Valentine MacNaughtan of the Saltash Space Service scowled in irritation as the distinctive signal of a private com request chimed in his earbug. In Captain MacNaughtan’s opinion, this wasn’t the best imaginable time for a friend to be comming him. Not with the entire star system going rapidly to hell and five Manticoran light cruisers decelerating steadily towards the space station for which he was ostensibly responsible.

He kept his eyes on the display in front of him, ignoring the signal while he wondered what the hell Governor Dueñas thought he was doing. MacNaughtan had been as stunned as anyone by the almost casual obliteration of Vice Admiral Dubroskaya’s battlecruisers, but that lent a certain emphasis—a
lot
of emphasis, actually—to his present concerns. Although Shona Station’s megaton mass dwarfed any battlecruiser ever built, it was also far more fragile…and stuffed full of
civilians
, not just people in uniform. It seemed self-evident to that station’s CO that keeping ships which could shred battlecruisers from doing the same thing to Shona would be a good idea, yet he was beginning to think he was the only person in the entire star system that thought had occurred to.

Dueñas, you miserable asshole
, he thought scathingly.
You don’t have a frigging clue, do you? I
really
don’t want to see what you screw up for an encore, but I’ve got a nasty feeling I’m going to. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Grandpa, what did you think you were
doing?!

The question had all sorts of jagged personal edges at the moment, since Captain MacNaughtan’s grandfather had been the President of MacPhee whose brainstorm had led to the Office of Frontier Security’s being invited into Saltash in the first place. The old man had lived to regret it, but by and large, MacNaughtan didn’t see where he’d had a lot of choice. Saltashans prided themselves on their stubbornness, and they’d been all set to reprise Old Earth’s Final War on Cinnamon, even though the stubbornest had to admit their original quarrel had arisen out of an almost trivial dispute over
fishing
rights, of all damned things! Well, MacNaughtan’s grandmother had always claimed that no one else in the entire Ante Diaspora history of the human race had been able to hold a grudge, cherish a feud, or cling to a lost cause like the Scots. Except, perhaps, she’d added thoughtfully, the Irish. Apparently some things changed even less than others.

MacNaughtan didn’t know about that. He wasn’t a student of history, and he’d had other things to concern himself with here in Saltash. Like dealing with the consequences of Frontier Security’s arrival. While he was willing to concede even OFS was preferable to a sterilized planet, there were times he wasn’t certain just
how
preferable it might be. His was one of the families which had managed to cling to a position of at least some power and privilege even under the new management, which was how he’d come to command Shona Station in the first place. But that also meant his family was in a better position than most to realize just how cynical the Sollies’ exploitation of his home system actually was.

It wasn’t that systems like Saltash provided enormous amounts of cash to the League compared to even the smallest Core system. Not individually, at any rate. Yet there were so
many
of them, each of them one more revenue-producing node in Frontier Security’s “benevolent” little empire, that the aggregate cash flow was stupendous. And the amounts the League extracted from Saltash in the form of “service fees” and “licensing fees” were more than enough to choke off any domestic economic growth. MacNaughtan knew Saltash was better off than many—probably the majority—of the protectorate systems, and Cinnamon had escaped the kind of grinding poverty that was the fate of all too many other worlds in the Verge. But he wasn’t certain stagnation was a lot better than penury, and he
was
certain that Frontier Security apparatchiks like Damien Dueñas had absolutely no interest in changing the situation. It was working just fine for
them
the way it was.

Or it had been until today, at any rate. Unfortunately, Dueñas wasn’t the one who was going to pay the heaviest price. Or who’d already paid it, for that matter. MacNaughtan hadn’t known Dubroskaya well—she hadn’t been in-system long enough—but she’d sure as hell deserved better than she’d gotten! And the MacNaughtan clan had been around long enough for him to know that with Dubroskaya dead, Dueñas was going to heap all the responsibility for what had happened here on her, if he could. It was amazing how convenient dead scapegoats who weren’t around to dispute what had happened could be.

And if anything else goes wrong, he’s going to hang the responsibility for
that
on anyone he can, too. Which puts
me
right in the line of fire, and
—

His earbug chimed again, louder, and he growled a silent mental curse as it added a priority sequence to the signal.

He looked around for a moment, then crooked a finger at Commander Tad Rankeillor, his executive officer.

“Take the throne for a minute, Tad,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the command chair where he should technically have parked his posterior. “Apparently I have to take a call.”

“Hell of a time for it,” Rankeillor grunted. The SSS wasn’t all that big on spit and polish, and MacNaughtan and Rankeillor had known one another since boyhood. “Tell Maura I said hi.”

“It’s not Maura,” MacNaughtan said, hovering on the edge of a grin despite the catastrophe looming its way towards them. He and Maura had been married for less than six local months, and Rankeillor had been his best man.

“Sure it isn’t.” Rankeillor rolled his eyes.

“Not her combination,” MacNaughtan said, and Rankeillor’s eyes stopped rolling and narrowed.

“Who the hell else would com you at a moment like this?”

“If you’ll take the damned deck, I’ll find out!” MacNaughtan said tartly, and Rankeillor nodded.

“Sorry,” he said. “You’re relieved.”

“I stand relieved,” MacNaughtan replied. Spit and polish or not, there were some formalities and procedures which simply had to be observed.

Rankeillor moved closer to the master plot, and MacNaughtan stepped back a few paces, far enough to stay out of everyone else’s way, and punched to accept the audio-only call.

“MacNaughtan,” he said tersely.

“Captain, it’s Cicely Tiilikainen,” a voice said, and he felt his shoulders stiffen.

Tiilikainen had been stationed in Saltash longer than any of its previous governors or lieutenant governors. If Valentine MacNaughtan had been inclined trust any OFS bureaucrat, it would probably have been Tiilikainen. As it was, he at least
mistrusted
her less than any of her predecessors. To be honest, however, that wasn’t saying a great deal, and his eyes narrowed as he wondered why she was on his private circuit rather than one of the official com channels.

“Yes?” he responded after a moment, some instinct prompting him to use no names or official titles any of his watch standers might overhear.

“I’m on your private combination because I’m pretty sure this is a conversation neither of us would want to make part of the official record,” Tiilikainen said, as if she’d read his mind. “The Governor and I just had a…disagreement.”

“And?” MacNaughtan said warily. Getting into the crossfire between Frontier Security bureaucrats was
not
something a prudent Saltashan did.

“And I told him where he could put any further cooperation from me,” Tiilikainen told him flatly. “I never did like this brainstorm of his, and I wish to hell I’d argued harder when he first came up with it. But I didn’t, and now it’s come home to roost with a vengeance. You know what happened to Dubroskaya.”

“Yes,” he said, although it hadn’t been a question.

“Well, Dueñas still refuses to back down. He even refused to authorize Myau to evacuate her ships.”

“What?” MacNaughtan’s brows knit, and he glanced at the plot showing the thick shower of life pods descending towards Cinnamon atmosphere. “But—”

“Myau did that on her own…after I gave her a heads-up.” MacNaughtan could almost see Tiilikainen’s tart, sharp edged grimace even over the audio-only link. “I suggested to her that it would probably be best to initiate direct contact with this Zavala before our esteemed Governor got around to complicating things for her. She still may take it in the ear, but at least she didn’t have any orders
not
to abandon—yet—and she can make a pretty damned good case for having to make a quick decision without any guidance from her civilian superiors. Officially, at least.”

“I see. And you’re comming me to do the same thing?”

“More or less.” He heard the sound of an exasperated exhalation. “You’re not in the same position Myau was. You can’t just evacuate the station, and I’m damned sure he’s going to be ordering you and MacWilliams—and that jackass Pole—
not
to release the Manties. He’s got this notion Zavala won’t push it, won’t dare to take any action that could get civilians hurt.”

“Which you think he will?” MacNaughtan kept his voice down, but his expression tightened.

“My honest impression? I don’t think he
wants
to, but this is one genuine hard-ass, Val. I don’t know how typical he is of Manties in general, but this guy isn’t going to take any crap from anybody, and the fact is that we’re legally in the wrong on this one. Worse, Zavala
knows
we are, and I think he’s just demonstrated he isn’t likely to spend a lot of time dithering about his next move. I don’t know what he may have said to Dueñas after I left, but if I had to guess, it would be something along the lines of give me back my nationals, and nobody else needs to get hurt. Get in my way, and a
lot
of people will get hurt. And since the nationals in question happen to be aboard
your
space station…”

Her voice trailed off in the verbal equivalent of a shrug, and MacNaughtan closed his eyes. Wonderful. This day just kept getting better and better.

“Well, I appreciate the information, Sir,” he said briskly, raising his voice just enough for anyone standing close enough to him to hear the honorific’s gender. “Unfortunately, I’ve got to get back to work now. Things are a little lively here, you know, and I probably need to keep the link open for official calls.”

“I do know, and…I’m sorry. Luck.”

Tiilikainen disconnected, and MacNaughtan drew a deep breath, then strode back over to Rankeillor.

“Get hold of Bridie,” he said softly. “I need her and MacGeechan in my briefing room ten minutes ago. And for God’s sake
don’t
put it on the PA!”

“I’ll do that thing,” Rankeillor agreed, looking less surprised than he might have, and MacNaughtan nodded and headed for the briefing room just off Shona station’s command deck.

* * *

Lieutenant Commander Bridie MacWilliams, the commander of the SSS police forces aboard the station, and Lieutenant Eardsidh MacGeechan, her second-in-command, arrived in MacNaughtan’s briefing room in under three minutes. He wasn’t really surprised. MacWilliams was young, but he’d always known she was quick. She was also the sort who thought ahead, and she’d probably been waiting by her com with her track shoes already sealed, anticipating his call.

“You called, Skipper?” she said as she and MacGeechan stepped through the door and it closed behind them.