The Black Sheep (A Learning Experience Book 3) (4 page)

“Understood,” the XO said.  He glanced at Thomas.  “See if you can download the ship’s logs.”

“Aye, sir,” Thomas said.

He sat down at the nearest console and keyed commands into the system.  It was an odd combination of human and alien technology, as if the freighter crew hadn't been able to obtain a number of subsystems from Earth.  Given how far they were from the Solar Union, they’d probably been forced to jury-rig a great deal more than just the control consoles.  He would have been impressed, if the system hadn't been so clunky.  Half the files spat out by the damaged system had nothing whatsoever to do with either operating a starship or whatever had forced Ryman and his crew to run for their lives, carrying thousands of refugees and chased by three warships.

“We just completed the headcount, Commander,” one of the marines said.  “There were six
thousand
refugees, mainly human, crammed into the hulk.  At least nineteen died in transit, sir, and thirty died when a shield generator exploded.  I honestly don’t know how they survived as long as they did.”

“We’ll have to ship them over to the base or down to the planet as quickly as possible,” the XO said, slowly.  “Inform Captain Stuart that we may need to request support from the local authorities.”

Thomas shook his head in horrified disbelief. 
Speaker to Seafood
was seven hundred metres long, one of the largest ships that could land on a planetary surface, but cramming six thousand humans into the hull would have been damn near impossible.  They’d have to be crammed into the ship like sardines in a can.  What the hell had they been running from, he asked himself as he drove further into the computer network, that impelled them to take the risk?  Losing only nineteen passengers to suffocation - or whatever - had been amazingly lucky.

A new file popped up in front of him.  “I think I’ve found something, sir,” he said.  “It’s not the logbook, but it
is
a personal diary.”

“Skim the last few entries and summarise them,” the XO ordered.  “Can you tell who wrote it?”

“I’m not sure,” Thomas confessed, after a few moments.  “It reads like it was written by a young person, but there’s no way to be certain.”

“Never mind, for the moment,” the XO said.  “What does it say?”

The girl wrote it
, Thomas thought, as he brought up the last few entries and skimmed them as quickly as he could.  He couldn’t help feeling as though he was intruding on her privacy - she talked about video stars she liked as well as her feelings for someone who remained nameless - but there was no choice. 
Why doesn't she say anything useful
?

He paused as he read the last entry, dated three weeks ago.  “She talks about the ship landing on Amstar,” he said, slowly.  “There’s a long section in which she complains about being confined to the ship, about being told she can't even cross the landing pad to visit her ... her friend on the other freighter.  The grown-ups are apparently talking about something she’s not supposed to know about, then ...”

The XO leaned forward.  “And then?”

“Nothing,” Thomas said.  “That’s the last entry, sir, but assuming they made all speed from Amstar to Martina they’d have been in transit at least a week.  What happened between the last entry and their departure must have been bad.”

He glanced back over the prior entries, but saw nothing remarkable.  The girl had hoped to be a trader herself, he noted; her parents were teaching her the tricks of the trade, in-between making sure she had a well-rounded education.  He couldn't help feeling a stab of envy - he’d grown up on an asteroid himself; he hadn't seen an alien until he’d enrolled at the academy - at the life she’d led, before dismissing the thought.  Whatever she’d experienced on Amstar had traumatised her.

“No doubt,” the XO said.  “Continue searching for files, Ensign.  If you find anything useful or informative, let me know.  The intelligence staff will want to take a look at them too.”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.  He moved away from the personnel files and glimpsed into the engineering records.  Years ago, he’d been shown how to interpret the different files and put them together to build up a picture of what the ship had been doing.  Now ... he frowned as a number of automated statements suddenly fell into place.  “Sir?”

“Yes, Ensign?”

“I think the freighter went FTL while she was still in the planet’s gravity well,” Thomas said, slowly.  It was impossible to be sure, but why else would they have expended so much effort compensating for outside gravity fields?  And yet, it was generally agreed that
trying
was certain death.  “They must have been frantic.”

He pulled up the dates and checked them against his internal logs. 
Speaker To Seafood
had gone FTL barely a week ago, suggesting she’d been running constantly since then.  Given the damage to the drive, Ryman must have feared being unable to go FTL again if he stopped for repairs - assuming, of course, he’d been able to evade his pursuers.  His partner hadn't been lucky enough to survive.

“Sir,” he said, “what were they running from?”

“Good question,” the XO said.  “I have no doubt Captain Ryman will be happy to tell us, when he wakes up.  Until then ...”

He pointed at the console.  “Back to work, Ensign.”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.

Chapter Three

In a landmark statement last night, the Houses of Parliament in London declared the adoption of Islamic Law throughout Great Britain and its own dissolution and replacement by a council of clerics.  Since then, thousands of refugees have been making their way to Scotland or the Solar Union.

-Solar News Network, Year 54

“There’s nothing wrong with Captain Ryman, save for exhaustion and fatigue poisons,” Doctor Shari Carr said.  “I’ve given him a booster, for the moment, but he really needs at least a day or two of sleep.  Once you’ve spoken to him, Captain, I want to put him back under.”

“Understood,” Hoshiko said.  She’d had her staff drawing information from the freighter’s computers and intelligence from the refugees, but she wanted to hear Captain Ryman personally.  “Can I speak to him now?”

“He’s awake,” Shari said.  She ran her hand through her short blonde hair.  “Like I said, though, he really needs to go back to sleep.  I wouldn't have woken him if I hadn't needed to place his implants in stand-by.”

Hoshiko nodded and followed the doctor through the hatch into the private room.  Captain Ryman lay on a bed, his arms hooked up to a life support machine.  He looked tired, Hoshiko thought, despite the brief period of enforced sleep.  She privately resolved to take as little time as possible as she sat down beside his bed, studying him closely.  He looked back at her, his eyes very tired.

“I’m Captain Hoshiko Stuart,” Hoshiko said.  “Commanding officer of this squadron.”

“Stuart,” Ryman repeated, as he sat upright.  “One of
those
Stuarts?”

“I’m afraid so,” Hoshiko said, stung.  Was there nowhere she could get away from her family’s legacy?  “I’m afraid I have some questions I need answered.”

“I understand the routine,” Ryman said.  He gave her a tired smile.  “But you’d better ask quickly before I fall back into blackness.”

“It's a simple question,” Hoshiko assured him.  “What
happened
on Amstar?”

Ryman laughed, harshly.  “That doesn't have a simple answer,” he said, after a moment.  “Let me see ...”

He took a breath, clearly composing his thoughts.  “Captain Rogers and I have been partners ever since we bought our own freighters and set off to explore the galaxy,” he said.  “We had an ...
understanding
with both the Deep Space Corporation and the Independent Traders Association; they’d underwrite some of our expenses in exchange for a detailed report on trade prospects within this sector.  The ITA, in particular, was very interested in making contact with human settlements, believing they would serve as a way to defeat the trade cartels that dominate a number of sectors.  That was two years ago.”

“Before the Battle of Earth,” Hoshiko commented.

“Barely,” Ryman agreed.  “We only heard rumours until we got a message packet from home ... anyway, by that time, we had managed to make a few contacts with human settlements, including a number of communities on Amstar.  They were quite friendly to us, Captain; my crew enjoyed their times there.  It’s one of those worlds where hundreds of different races rub shoulders frequently.  It was a good place to gather intelligence as well as pick up trade tips and make new contacts.

“But we couldn't stay on Amstar, so we more or less made it our home base as we wandered the sector, buying and selling trade goods of all descriptions.  Most of the cartels collapsed when the Tokomak withdrew ... life was good for independent freighters, particularly as the cartels had forgotten how to turn a profit.  We were actually taking on apprentices from Amstar, all human, and thinking about investing in more ships.  I was looking forward to the future when we landed on Amstar once again, three weeks ago.  But things were already changing.”

He shuddered and lay back on the bed.  “Amstar is - was - ruled by a cooperative council, set up by the Tokomak when they colonised the world,” he explained.  “Every race with more than ten thousand sentient inhabitants was allowed a seat on the council, including human settlers.  It worked fairly well as no one wanted the Tokomak to take direct control of the planet or turn authority over to one of the races that serve as their bully-boys.  Most races did what they wanted as long as other races weren't involved.  But a week after we arrived, the Druavroks launched a coup.”

Hoshiko took a moment to consult her implants.  The Druavroks were listed as one of the bully-boy races, like the Varner; a race that served as enforcers for the Tokomak and, in exchange, were allowed to lord it over everyone else in their sector.  There wasn't much else in the files, save for the observation that the Druavroks were a lizard-like race that laid eggs and had a major population problem.  She would have been surprised if anyone on Earth had given any thought to the Druavroks.  They were six months away, after all.

“They snatched control of the orbital defences, then took the council building and declared themselves the sole rulers of Amstar,” Ryman continued.  “That alone wouldn’t have been so bad, but they insisted that everyone else had to ritually submit to their rule or face the consequences.  The submitted have no rights, Captain; the Druavroks think nothing of
eating
their slaves or butchering them for fun.  A number of other races flatly refused to submit; the Druavroks bombed isolated settlements from orbit, then sent in ground troops to cleanse the cities.  They’re bent on committing genocide on a colossal scale.”

Hoshiko sucked in her breath.  “And what happened to you?”

“We were down on the planet when they took over,” Ryman said.  “They told us - Kenny and I - that we had to submit or face the consequences.  I submitted, while making contact with some of our friends.  We smuggled over ten thousand refugees into the spaceport, loaded them onto the ships and took off.  They opened fire on us once we were in the air, so we went FTL as soon as we could.  The drive was badly damaged, but we made it out.  We’d heard there was a human presence at Martina ... I decided to gamble and run for help.  And when we dropped out of FTL ...”

His voice trailed off.  “I understand,” Hoshiko said.  “You encountered us.”

“The sensors were so badly battered I didn't realise just how closely they were following us,” Ryman confessed.  “I didn’t mean to lead them right to you.”

“We survived,” Hoshiko said.  “What are they
doing
on Amstar?”

“They’re killing everyone who refuses to submit,” Ryman said.  “Perhaps they would have dealt with us earlier, but they were rather occupied.  It’s like bloody Paris in some of the giant megacities, Captain.  Everyone is fighting like mad bastards because they
know
they’re all going to be killed.  I heard of children being gassed, men and women being firebombed ... the only thing keeping them from destroying the cities from orbit is the presence of their own settlements.  But I don’t see how the defenders can hold out for long.  They didn't have many weapons when the Tokomak withdrew and hardly any time to build up an arsenal since.  No one expected a coup.”

He shuddered.  “They have some people fighting on their side,” he added.  “One of them ... one of them hurt my daughter.  I could do
nothing
to help her.”

Hoshiko forced herself to remain calm.  “How did you get so many people here safely?”

“Everything we could think of,” Ryman said.  “Used sedative gas to keep them quiet and content, recycled damn near everything we could to feed ourselves ... built makeshift air scrubbers out of spare parts and jury-rigged everything else we could.  How many did we lose?”

“Nineteen on the trip,” Hoshiko said.  She decided not to mention the refugees who’d been killed when the freighter was attacked.  “We’re having the refugees shipped down to the planet now.”

“The Druavroks will come after them,” Ryman said.  “I don't think this is a localised uprising, Captain.  They didn’t have sole control of the Amstar Defence Force before the coup.  Those ships might have come from their homeworld itself.”

“And with the Tokomak gone, they might be thinking of a little empire-building of their own,” Hoshiko said.  It was a chilling thought.  She had a duty to preserve human lives and now human lives were under threat.  “Taking Amstar and its gravity points will give them a stranglehold on economic development throughout parts of the sector.”

“Taking Martina will do the same,” Ryman pointed out.  “But I think they’re more interested in genocide, Captain.  Those bastards slaving for them are likely to be the last to be eaten, but they
will
be eaten.”

“That is probably true,” Hoshiko said.  Where did her responsibilities lie?  She had a duty to preserve human life ... and humans were under threat.  And, if other races were
also
under threat, there was an opportunity in the midst of tragedy.  She had orders to find new allies for humanity, if she could.  “Thank you for your time, Captain.”

“My ship,” Ryman said.  “What will happen to her?”

“She really requires a full-scale refit,” Hoshiko said.  The bean-counters would probably insist on Ryman buying a new freighter and scrapping the old one, even though she’d managed to get her master and commander out of a lethal hole.  “My engineering crews have secured her, for the moment, but it would take months to repair her.”

“I’m not giving her up,” Ryman insisted, firmly.  “She’s come a long way.”

“A very long way,” Hoshiko agreed.  She understood the overwhelming impulse to protect one’s ship, even though cold logic insisted that repairing the older ship was pointless.  “She will be turned back to you, after you recover.  After that ... what you do is your own choice.”

Ryman nodded and yawned, loudly.  Shari hurried over to him, inspected the life support machine, then jerked her head towards the hatch.  Hoshiko understood; she rose, nodded goodbye to the older man, then turned and walked out of the compartment as Shari put Ryman back to sleep.  He’d have at least two days of uninterrupted sleep before she woke him.  After that ...

He can stay with us or go back to Sol
, she thought, as she waited for the doctor. 
I can arrange for free passage back to the Solar Union, if necessary.  He won’t owe us for that.

She closed her eyes and accessed her implants, sending copies of her recordings to her senior staff.  They’d have a chance to review them before she called a staff meeting to decide what, if anything, they should do about the crisis.  There would probably be a long argument, Hoshiko knew, but she had no intention of allowing anyone to dissuade her from following her first impulse.  She had a duty to protect humans and humans were at risk.  Taking her squadron to Amstar was the only logical response.

“Captain,” Shari said, as she emerged from the compartment.  “Captain Ryman will remain asleep for at least three days.  It should be long enough to purge his body and refresh his mind.”

“Good,” Hoshiko said.  “And the rest of his crew?”

“The daughter was raped,” Shari said, flatly.  “Thankfully, she had a contraceptive implant so there was no danger of an unplanned pregnancy.  Physically, she’s fine; mentally, she’s a little shaken up.  I’ve left her sedated, for the moment, but she will probably require a considerable amount of help before she’s fit to re-enter society.  It isn't just the rape, Captain; it’s the sudden awareness that her father was unable to protect her, that she could be just ... used ... that she could lose all control of her body.”

Hoshiko shuddered.  Violent rape was rare in the Solar Union.  Between genetic enhancements, augmented strength, implant recordings and lie detectors, a woman had an excellent chance of fighting off a man, summoning help or - if nothing else - ensuring a conviction afterwards.  Besides, anyone who felt the impulse to get his or her kicks through violent sex games could find a willing partner on the datanet or simply lose himself in VR simulations.  But rape was prevalent on Earth, all the more so as society broke down and law enforcement agencies stopped functioning.  She’d heard enough horror stories to know that it wasn't safe to go into a city on Earth without powered combat armour and a marine guard.

“Take care of her,” she said, firmly.  “Can we track down the rapist?”

“Probably not,” Shari admitted.  “She cleaned herself thoroughly, Captain, probably more than once.  That’s not uncommon among rape victims, but it destroyed the evidence.  The only DNA I found on her was her own.  She may be able to identify the bastard, if she sees him again ...”