Authors: Graham Sharp Paul
“Those assholes at border security smelled a rat. At first we thought they’d been tipped off, but it turned out they just wanted to know why we were taking mining machinery to Lagerfeld.”
“Fair question. The mines there stopped production a century ago. But you showed them our end-user certificates?”
“We did, but of course they had to check. I mean, would you accept an end-user certificate from the Live-in-Hope Mining Company?”
Michael laughed. “I guess not.”
“So they checked, and that took a while—” Shinoda turned to glare at the gangly marine sitting alongside her. “—which it need not have done if Marine Clothcock Mitchell here—” She reached out and smacked the back of Mitchell’s head. “—hadn’t given the border security guys some lip.”
“Hey, sarge,” the man protested.
“Don’t fucking ‘hey, sarge’ me, Marine Mitchell. I’ve told you before: Keep your damn mouth shut. If I need you to speak, I’ll tell you. Understood?”
Mitchell nodded.
“Anyway,” Shinoda continued, “the Live-in-Hope Mining Company duly came back to say that all was aboveboard. Turns out the border security guys thought we might have been planning to sell the consignment to the Rogue Worlds.”
“Well, Lagerfeld does trade with them.”
“It does.”
Michael looked around the battered bulkheads of the tiny compartment that passed for the ship’s passenger saloon. “Not the best ship I’ve ever been in,” he said.
“The
Golden Gladiator
?” Shinoda chuckled. “She’ll do. The captain’s a strange man, the mate’s even weirder, but the engineer is solid as rock. We’ve had a look around. She’s an old ship, but they look after her.”
“So we’ll get to Lagerfeld okay?”
“We will … Let me see; yes, another day and half should see us there.”
“Any changes to the plan?”
“None. We transfer to the
President Cruz
as soon as we dock; it breaks orbit four hours later. We should be dirtside on Scobie’s on schedule.”
“Good,” Michael said. The moment of truth was fast approaching; he shivered at the thought of what it would take to get past DocSec security and safely dirtside on Commitment. For all the assurances he had been given by Jaruzelska, by Fellsworth, by the spooks from 66, by the tech guys from intelligence support, the fact was that the Hammers, always obsessed with their border security, were now beyond paranoid.
“You okay?” Shinoda asked.
“Oh, sorry,” Michael said. “I was just thinking about DocSec. Can’t say I’m looking forward to meeting them again.”
“We’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, we will,” Michael said. He tried to ignore the fact that they had a reasonable chance of not making it. “They got anything like a gym onboard this scow?”
“Hey! Don’t let the crew hear you calling their beloved
Golden Gladiator
a scow. They’ll tear you a new one.”
“Oops,” Michael said, chuckling. “So no gym?”
“Afraid not. But we have found some mats. We’ll be doing unarmed combat drills. Care to join us?”
Michael did not like the way a wolfish grin had appeared on Shinoda’s face. He sighed. “I hate marines. All you ever want to do is kick ass.”
“Never kicked the ass of a dead man before.”
Michael sighed again. “Well, now’s your chance. Come on, then. Let’s do it.”
• • •
With frightening speed and power, Shinoda scythed Michael’s legs from under him and smashed him into the mat with a sickening thud that drove the air from his lungs. An instant later, Shinoda had somehow gotten her arms around his throat and head, twisting and squeezing until Michael had to slap the mat in surrender.
Gasping, he dragged the air back into tortured lungs sip by agonizing sip. “You fucking bastard,” he wheezed.
“Had enough, spacer boy?” Shinoda said. She let him go and rolled away. “Honestly,” she said, standing up to pull Michael to his feet, “you Fleet guys are a bunch of pussies. You couldn’t fight off a three-legged dog.”
“Yeah, right,” Michael muttered. He tried to ease the aches out of his back and shoulders. “Anyway, better a pussy than a fucking psycho.”
“Not where we’re going. Now, you had enough?”
“One more, but show me how you did that throw.”
“Sucker! Right, stand like this … yes, okay. Now …”
• • •
Michael lay in his bunk in the half darkness. The only sound was the gentle hiss of the air-conditioning. The images of Shinoda and her four marines had stayed with him, stuck in his mind. It had been almost frightening to watch the carefully controlled mix of skill, finesse, speed, and brutality at work. Their drills looked like the real thing. More than once Michael had been sure, absolutely sure, that one of the team members would end up badly injured, even dead.
I might be the man to captain a dreadnought
, he thought,
but I want Shinoda and her marines alongside me when the fighting gets up close and personal
.
But all the Shinodas in the world would count for nothing when they came up against DocSec.
DocSec did not need skill, finesse, or speed. They had the only thing they needed: brutality, and plenty of it.
Friday, June 11, 2404, UD
City of Foundation, Terranova
“… and we’ll have more news as it comes to hand, but for those who have just joined us, we have reports that a shuttle carrying Moderator Ferrero was attacked today as it lifted off from Lenore Island after she addressed a rally of the Federation Peace League. We have been told by sources inside planetary defense that the shuttle was hit by two surface-to-air missiles and was badly damaged but managed to land safely. We also have unconfirmed reports—and I must stress that they are unconfirmed—that Federal Police believe the attack was the work of senior space fleet personnel unhappy about what they believe to be the Ferrero government’s appeasement of the Hammers. In response to the incident, a state of emergency is now in force. And now we’ll cross to—”
Vice Admiral Jaruzelska cut the neuronics link; reopening her eyes, she looked at the man sitting opposite her for a moment. The café around them was hushed as the midmorning coffee crowd absorbed the shocking news. “I smell the Hammers,” she said. “I wonder what took them so long.”
“Who knows,” Vice Admiral John N’tini replied, pushing his coffee cup away.
“Fleet’s been set up, John, and we know why. I’ll call the boss to see if she’s heard anything. I’ll also try Juanita Chou at planetary defense.”
“You do that, Angela. I’ll see if my FedPol contacts can tell us what’s happened.”
“Call me if you find out anything.”
“Will do.”
Jaruzelska and N’tini started to their feet. Two men pushed into the air-conditioned comfort of the café. They bundled aside two patrons trying to leave at the same time.
“Rude bastards,” Jaruzelska growled as she watched the men thread their way through the tables.
They’re FedPol, and they’re coming for us
, she thought.
“I’m Chief Inspector Meir,” the older of the two men said, “and this is Sergeant Hardina, Federal Police. You are Admiral Jaruzelska?”
“You already know that,” Jaruzelska said.
“And you are Admiral N’tini?” Meir asked.
“Yes,” N’tini replied.
“John N’tini and Angela Jaruzelska,” Meir said, his voice cold and formal, “I am arresting you both under the provisions of Section 19 of the Emergency Powers Act. In accordance with that act, you will be remanded in custody until a duly authorized Federal Police officer details the charges against you in the Federal Court of Criminal Justice. You are obliged to answer all questions put to you by the Federal Police, and any failure to answer such questions may prejudice your defense. Do you understand?”
Jaruzelska’s eyes blazed. “Tell me what the charge is,” she spit.
“As I just said, sir, you will be informed of all charges against you when you appear in the Federal Court. Come with me, please.”
Jaruzelska turned to N’tini. “What do you think, John? Shall we go?”
“I hate to say it, but I think we’d better do as Mister Plod the Policeman wants.”
“Now,” Meir said, stone-faced.
Without another word, Jaruzelska and N’tini allowed themselves to be led out of the café. The leaden silence broke into a buzz the moment the door closed behind them.
A young man at a table by the door left his coffee unfinished. He hurried into the street. He walked past where Jaruzelska was refusing to follow N’tini into the waiting police mobibot, her voice strident above the hum of traffic.
“I’m a goddamned admiral, so get your hands off me, Meir. I want to speak to my lawyer before I go anywhere.”
“I know who you are, Admiral Jaruzelska,” Meir responded, “but I must insist.”
Jaruzelska was not looking at Meir. Instead she stared right at the young man. “Insist,” she said, her voice loud now, penetrating. “Insist all you like. My mother would not like it.”
“Your mother?” Meir said, puzzled by Jaruzelska’s sudden change of tack. “Do us all a favor and get in the bot.” Meir’s body language made it clear that his patience was running out.
“My mother would not like it,” Jaruzelska called out again.
“Now! Or I’ll cuff you and throw you in the bot myself.”
Jaruzelska threw her hands up. “Okay, okay. I’ll do it.”
The man kept walking, an almost imperceptible nod the only sign that he had heard Jaruzelska.
The door was slammed behind Jaruzelska; she slumped down beside N’tini. “This is a first,” John,” she said. “Two admirals arrested in one day.”
“And there’ll be more,” N’tini said, twisting his body to be able to look into Jaruzelska’s face. “I know a witch hunt when I see one.” He lifted an eyebrow in inquiry.
Jaruzelska nodded. “True enough.” She sat back as the mobibot accelerated away. Whatever the Hammers were up to, it did not matter now. She had pushed the button to launch Juggernaut. The young man, one of a team that shadowed her every move, had acknowledged receipt of the code phrase. Even now, every unit assigned to the invasion of Commitment would be en route for the deepspace jumping-off point.
Operation Juggernaut had started. There was nothing anyone in the Hammers or Ferrero could do to stop it. True, she’d been forced to initiate the operation early. But she’d spent almost all her adult life fighting the Hammer of Kraa; all her experience told her that Juggernaut’s chances of success were almost as good as she could have hoped.
Saturday, June 12, 2404, UD
LMS
Golden Gladiator
, Lagerfeld system nearspace
“Captain says we’ve been given clearance to dock,” Shinoda said. “We’ll be at the orbital transfer station in a couple of hours.”
“And the
President Cruz
?”
“Arrived yesterday. She’ll be leaving for Scobie’s World on schedule, though we might have a problem.”
“A problem?”
“Yup. Seems somebody fired a couple of missiles at our beloved moderator’s shuttle. Sadly, the shuttle survived, and so did she.”
“An assassination attempt?” Michael said, frowning. His mind raced as he tried to work out what it all meant. “You sure?”
“It’s all over the news.”
“That doesn’t sound good. It’s going to destabilize everything, and that’s the last thing we need right now.”
“It gets worse,” Shinoda said. “The shit has really hit the fan. The Feds have arrested most of the officers above the rank of commodore in the fleet. They’ve been charged with everything from conspiracy to murder to stealing the office teacups.”
“What about Admiral Jaruzelska?”
“She wasn’t mentioned by name, but yes, almost certainly.”
Michael was still stunned by the news. “We’ll have to work out how this affects us.”
“That’ll be hard. Things are pretty chaotic. But there is some good news.”
“We could do with some.”
“They’re saying a large force of Fleet units left Terranovan nearspace without proper authorization only minutes after the arrests. Planetary defense told them to turn back, but they refused. The antiballistic missile batteries were ordered to fire on them, but there was a problem with their fire-control systems. The missiles refused to lock onto ships squawking friendly IFF codes, so they got away.”
“I’m shocked,” Michael said with a huge grin. “Such incompetence.”
“It gets better. Apparently the same thing happened at Comdur.”
“They’ve pushed the button on Juggernaut,” Michael said. Then it hit him hard. “The Hammers. They’ll know that we’re coming after them.”
“Will they? How?”
“Why else would an entire task force leave Terranova and Comdur nearspace without authorization from Fleet?”
Shinoda thought about that for a while. “Wouldn’t they think,” she said, “that it was just … I don’t know … a precautionary move following the assassination attempt?” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “No, that makes no sense. Warships don’t move without orders.”
“They don’t, and even if the Hammers aren’t sure,” Michael said, “they’ll assume an attack is on the way. Until the missing units are relocated, they have to, and don’t be surprised if they close their nearspace to all civilian traffic.”
“Damn,” Shinoda muttered, her face bleak, “that wouldn’t be good. What do we do now?”
“Push on, find the first dead-letter box on Scobie’s. It’ll have the latest update on the Juggernaut. There’ll be new orders for us.”
Shinoda nodded. “I’ll go brief the rest of the team.”
“Let me guess. On the mats again?”
“Yup.”
“Slow learners, you marines.”
“Watch it, spacer boy,” Shinoda replied with a feral smile as she left.
Michael sat back, wondering where Juggernaut stood now. With Jaruzelska under arrest, Rear Admiral Moussawi was now in command. He was renowned for his mix of surgical skill and ruthless aggression. Michael had heard Jaruzelska describe him as one of the best Fleet commanders the Federated Worlds had ever seen; coming from her, that was high praise. But with the Hammers now expecting an attack, the chances of the operation succeeding had to have worsened no matter how good the commander was.
The butcher’s bill for Operation Juggernaut had always promised to be high; it now looked to be much, much worse. Michael could only hope that Moussawi would not be deterred.