The Trafalgar Gambit (Ark Royal) (21 page)

“Diplomatic immunity is not a licence to spy,” Parnell countered.  “We might not be able to try the spy and throw him out the airlock, but we could put him in the brig until we returned to Earth.”

Ted nodded.  “We need to know why they’re doing this,” he said, softly.  “What do they have in mind?”

“Sabotage the ship?”  Parnell suggested.  “Or perhaps make it impossible to come to terms with the aliens?”

“They’d have to be out of their minds,” Fitzwilliam said.  “The war is on the verge of being lost!”

“Some people rarely believe that disaster, even a lost war with an alien race, can touch them,” Parnell said.  “That’s why the Barbary States sometimes send raiders over to Europe, even though they can expect massive retaliation from orbit.  Their leaders are so secure in their own power they think nothing and no one can touch them.”

“... Idiots,” Fitzwilliam said.  He smiled, suddenly.  “Although I know a number of aristocrats who act like that, I suppose.”

He met Ted’s eyes.  “What do we do with them?”

“I’d suggest offering a honourable discharge in exchange for cooperation,” Parnell said.  He held up a hand before Fitzwilliam could say a word.  “I know you will want to throw the book at them, Captain, but we don’t want to discourage others from coming forward.”

“I see,” Fitzwilliam said.  “But if we’re not going to tell anyone about this ...
affair
, Major, how will they know we were merciful?”

“Some details may be released later, once everyone is safety dispersed,” Parnell said.  “And I would caution you against believing that something will remain secret indefinitely.  This affair certainly did
not
.”

“True,” Ted said.  He looked at Fitzwilliam.  “A honourable discharge?”

Fitzwilliam nodded, once.

***

As a child – back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth, according to Percy – Kurt had stolen some money from his mother.  He’d had a good reason at the time, he'd thought, but guilt had overwhelmed him almost at once.  Eventually, he’d returned the money and made a full confession.  His mother had been furious and confined him to the house for the next month, but he’d felt better after admitting his guilt.  He’d done something wrong and knew it, no matter how he tried to convince himself otherwise.

He felt much the same, now, as they made their way to the gallery.  It was far from
private
, he knew, but it was rare for pilots to eat outside Pilot Country.  He knew his life had been irreparably damaged, that he might have dragged down Rose and his children too, yet he felt better for having confessed.  The die had been cast and now he could think clearly again.  He led the way into the compartment, took a large cup of coffee from the dispenser and sat down at a table on the far side of the room.  Rose sat, facing him, a second later.

“That was very brave,” she said.

Kurt snorted. 
Bravery
was one of the defining traits of starfighter pilots, along with a reckless disregard for danger or official flying regulations.  Most of them were written by desk jockeys and pasty-faced bureaucrats, none of whom had any real experience flying starfighters.  Flying a starfighter into the teeth of alien fire took
real
nerve.  But he’d never really done anything that risked his family before. 

“I suppose,” he said, finally.  He wanted to hug her, to tell her that it would be all right, but he knew he could do neither.  “And I'm sorry.”

Rose pointed a finger at him, like the barrel of a gun.  “Stop apologising for everything,” she said, tartly.  “I made my own decisions.”

Kurt took a sip of his coffee, grimaced at the taste and then took another sip.  “Yes, but I’m the one being blackmailed,” he said.  “That makes it my fault.”

“I think you’re the most vulnerable,” Rose pointed out.  “You have a family – and the higher rank.  I could just have told them to piss off.”

She was right, Kurt knew.  If she’d been willing to throw him under a bus, she could have claimed he’d pushed her into sex, promising promotion as a reward.  It was quite likely it would have worked too.  Senior officers were
expected
to handle themselves better than their juniors.

He jumped as a hand fell on his shoulder.  When he looked up, he found himself staring into the eyes of Major Parnell.  The Marine looked ... emotionless, no pity or anger in his eyes.

“You’re nicked, my lad,” the Marine said.  “We need to talk.”

“Yes, sir,” Kurt said.  He looked at Rose.  “Go put them through another training simulation.”

He allowed the Marine to lead him through the ship’s corridors and into Marine Country, where he was unceremoniously pushed into a small room.  There was nothing inside, but a metal desk, a pair of chairs and a water cooler.  The table was completely bare. 

“Sit,” Parnell ordered.  He strode around the desk and sat facing Kurt.  “I said
sit
.”

Kurt sat.  The chair was thoroughly uncomfortable. 

“You're in a right spot of bother,” Parnell said, bluntly.  “The good news is that the Admiral and the Captain have agreed that you and your ... lover will be offered a honourable discharge at the end of the deployment.  Once discharged, any footage your friends might have of the pair of you will become about as worthless as a standard piece of voyeuristic crap.”

“Oh,” Kurt said.  Having footage of a civilian caught in sexual acts on the datanet would be embarrassing for the victim, but hardly newsworthy.  It was more than he'd dared hope for, which probably meant it came with a price.  “And what is the catch?”

Parnell smiled.  It didn't touch his eyes.  “The bad news is that you’ll be expected to do
everything
in your power to help us identify the people trying to blackmail you,” he said.  “And I mean
everything
.”

He tapped the table.  “I wish you’d brought this to us before we left Earth,” he added.  “We could have followed up leads right there and then.  Instead ... we will only be able to focus on this ship and crew.  Tracking down the people behind your friends will be tricky.”

“Yes, sir,” Kurt said. 

“I know you probably weren't thinking too clearly,” Parnell added.  He jabbed a finger at Kurt to make his point.  “You’d just been shocked badly.  However, this is the time to think clearly.  We are going to go over
everything
.”

He settled back in his chair.  “You’re not under arrest,” he warned.  “However, I am obliged to warn you of several things.  This conversation
will
be recorded and it
will
be entered into the official investigative log.  Should you be caught in a lie, it will be held against you when the Admiralty and MI5 consider your position.  My very strong advice would be to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing, but the truth.”

He paused.  “I suggest you pour yourself a glass of water,” he added.  “This could take quite some time.”

Kurt nodded and obeyed.  When he returned to his chair, Parnell had a datapad open in front of him and was skimming the pages, clearly looking for questions to ask.  Or was he just pretending to be distracted?  It was impossible to tell. 

“First question, then,” Parnell said.  “Precisely what happened on the day you were told that someone else had footage of your sex life?”

Kurt braced himself, then went through the entire story.  Parnell was a good interrogator, he rapidly discovered; every time he was unsure about a detail, he asked questions until it was clarified to the best of Kurt’s ability.  Kurt hadn't realised how much he’d seen or heard until Parnell teased it out of him, although much of what he hadn't realised he’d forgotten was largely useless.  Fred’s identity was still a complete mystery. 

“It sounds like a professional,” Parnell said.  “Did you hear an accent?”

“No, sir,” Kurt said.

“Definitely a professional,” Parnell said.  “You probably wouldn't have noticed an accent if he worked his tones to sound like you.  Chances are his face was the result of some cosmetic surgery too.  He’d change again as soon as he left Luna City, making it impossible to track him down.”

Kurt swore.  “Is it hopeless then?”

“I wouldn't say that,” Parnell said.  “Where was the footage taken?”

“I think it was in Sin City,” Kurt said.

Parnell lifted his eyebrows.  “And what were you doing in Sin City?”

Kurt glared at him.  “What do people
normally
do in Sin City?”

“They don’t normally bring their partners,” Parnell pointed out.

“We wanted to share a hotel room without having to be discreet,” Kurt said.  It had been a fine weekend, marred only by the fact they’d had to split up to return to the Academy.  And by the fact the hotel manager kept offering to send a girl – or a boy – up to their room.  “You know their reputation for secrecy.”

Parnell snorted.  “That is a joke, right?”

“... Yes,” Kurt said.

“Tell me,” Parnell ordered.  “How do you
know
the footage was shot in Sin City?”

Kurt took a breath.  “It was the hotel room,” he said, firmly.  “It wasn’t my office or quarters at Luna Academy.”

“There are – there were – no shortage of intelligence officers prowling through Sin City,” Parnell muttered.  He glared down at the desk, then looked up.  “How long did you spend there?”

“A weekend,” Kurt said.  “We booked in Friday evening and left Sunday, mid-afternoon.”

“And where else did you go?”  Parnell asked.  “Or did you just stay there?”

“Yes,” Kurt said.  They’d been reluctant to go anywhere else, knowing they might be seen by someone else from the Academy.  “We ordered room service and stayed together.”

“She must really like you,” Parnell said.  “Of course, losing Sin City means following up that angle of investigation won’t be easy.”

Kurt cursed.  The aliens, deliberately or otherwise, had destroyed Sin City.  Anyone who might have been involved in planting cameras in hotel rooms was probably dead.

“Maybe they did it deliberately,” he mused.  “What if the blackmailers are working for the aliens?”

Parnell shrugged.  “It seems unlikely,” he said.  “They wouldn't need to blow up Sin City to cover their tracks.  All it would take is a knife in the back.”

He stood.  “We’ll be doing this again tomorrow,” he added.  “I suggest you make sure you free up some time on your schedule.  We will be going over this time and time again until they actually get in touch.”

Kurt nodded, reluctantly.  “Yes, sir,” he said.

“Wake,” an atonal voice said.

Henry jerked awake, his eyes snapping open.  Four aliens stood in the prison cell, their massive eyes watching him warily.  Three of them, he noted with some surprise, wore clothes that resembled wetsuits, while the fourth was as naked as always.  Jill started – she’d cuddled up to him as they slept – and sat upright, no longer bothering to try to cover her breasts.  It was all Henry could do to keep his body from betraying his awareness of her nakedness ...

But then, being stared at by alien perverts would cool anyone’s lust
, he thought, as he stood.  The aliens had never entered the compartment while the humans were sleeping before, as far as he knew. 
I couldn't perform under their gaze
.

“Put.  On,” one of the aliens said.  It pointed to a large bag on the floor.  “Now.”

Henry picked up the bag and opened it.  Inside, there were a pair of masks attached to a set of canisters.  It reminded him of the scuba gear he'd used as a child, before he realised that that was precisely what they were.  If the aliens wanted him to swim outside the prison cell, they’d have to give him a source of breathable air as well as a mask.  But ... he looked up, through the transparent ceiling.  Just how deep below the water were they?  It was far too easy to imagine them being struck by the bends as soon as they reached the surface ... and he had no idea how to explain the prospective danger to the aliens.  All they could do was endure.