Knight's Move (11 page)

But he had to admit that he was well prepared to resist her.  There was nothing like being a shareholder in Knight Corporation to make one irresistible to women.  Glen had been swamped with women ever since he’d turned fourteen, most of whom had been pushed at him by their mothers or had the lust for money in their eye.  He still cringed at the memory of having ‘the talk’ with Theodore, who had told him to make damn sure he always kept his contraceptive implant up to date.  A child born of his seed would have a claim to some of his shares, as laid down in the corporate by-laws.  Their father had been a firm believer in keeping power within the family.

“Be seated,” he ordered, returning the datapad to the desk.  “What can I do for you?”

“Certain matters have come to my attention,” Cynthia said.  She sat down and rested her hands in her lap.  “Are you aware that your XO appears to have developed a friendship with Representative Feingold?”

Glen shook his head, although he wasn't too surprised.  Sandy was, in her own way, just as isolated as himself. 
Dauntless’s
crew didn't include anyone else from the Fairfax Sector and she had to be feeling a little homesick.  According to her file, she had never even been home on leave.  Her accumulated leave time was actually quite considerable.  Privately, Glen had wondered if she simply intended to take a long holiday at some point in the future.

“This is a matter of some concern,” Cynthia added.  “What if he manages to convince her to betray her oaths to the Federation?”

Glen lifted an eyebrow, irked.  “And what exactly do they say to one another?”

“I don’t know,” Cynthia said, frustrated.  “I have not been able to establish any surveillance devices in Feingold’s cabin.”

“It would be a major scandal if you were caught,” Glen agreed.  Politicians often carried anti-surveillance devices with them, wherever they went.  There were just too many reporters willing to do anything to get a scoop, even spy on confidential meetings.  Privacy was a joke on Earth.  “It would certainly bring your career to an end.”

Cynthia shrugged.  “I am willing to take whatever risks are necessary to carry out my duties,” she said.  Glen privately suspected that her poise was largely an act.  Being caught running surveillance on a politician, even a colonial representative, would have consequences.  At the very least, she would be unceremoniously dismissed from the TFN.  And if it turned into a major scandal, she might find herself dumped on a prison colony.  “But I know nothing about what they have been saying to one another.”

“They could be talking about their home,” Glen pointed out.  “Or he could be seducing her.”

“I don’t think so,” Cynthia said.  “Your XO is clearly interested in women, rather than men.”

Glen rolled his eyes.  He hadn't noticed – and Cynthia’s file hadn't said anything about love interests.  Not that it would have, unless she was formally married or in a long-term partnership.  The TFN didn't bother to regulate it's personnel’s sexual activities beyond banning relationships between officers and crew of different ranks.  Or if someone put their relationship ahead of their duty.

“That might not stop him trying to seduce her,” he said, dryly.  “Do you have any proof that they are actually doing anything untoward?  Anything that might be counted as treasonable?”

“Well,
no
,” Cynthia said.  “But it is odd ...”

“I was an XO on
Ark Royal
,” Glen reminded her, crossly.  “There were quite a few cases where visitors to the ship tried to seduce some of the crew, even if they weren't interested.”

“He fixated on the one person on the ship who might share his attitudes,” Cynthia insisted.  “And she is spending time with him.  That is worrying.”

Glen sighed.  “But it doesn't prove anything,” he said.  “You cannot build a case against my XO out of the mere fact that she spends time with
anyone
, not even a colonial representative who happens to come from her homeworld.  They might appreciate the chance to speak to someone who shared the same accent.”

He shook his head, holding up his hand to prevent Cynthia from interrupting.  “All you seem to be doing is harassing my XO, which I am not inclined to tolerate.  Do you have any reason, anything at all, to be suspicious of her beyond talking to someone from her homeworld?”

“No,” Cynthia said.  “But I am obliged to always consider the worst case scenario ...”

“So you are,” Glen agreed.  “Might I point out that suspecting someone of disloyalty – and making it clear that you suspect them – is an excellent way to make them disloyal?”

It was one of the few life lessons he’d actually absorbed from Theodore.  One of his subordinates had been accused of industrial espionage and had been told, bluntly, to take a lie detector test or be fired.  He’d been proven innocent – the whole affair had been a coincidence – but he’d left soon afterwards, taking a bunch of confidential information with him and making it public.  Theodore had been censured by the rest of the family for his poor handling of the situation, yet that hadn't undone the damage he’d caused.  There were times when Glen wondered why his other brothers hadn’t taken advantage of the situation to unseat Theodore.

“Intelligence Officers do not have the luxury of giving suspects the benefit of the doubt,” Cynthia said.  “I have to assume the worst.”

“So you said,” Glen said.  His temper was fraying.  “But I have to trust my XO.  If you don’t have any real proof, I would appreciate it if you kept your suspicions to yourself.”

He watched her leave, for once not swinging her hips, then turned back to the datapad.  It would be just like Knight Corporation’s near-disaster, he told himself, if he believed that Sandy might be spying on him.  But the hell of it was that he could see Cynthia’s point too.  If the Bottleneck Republic
did
declare formal independence, which way would officers like Sandy jump?  And some of them were in a position to do real damage before they were rounded up and interned.

And if they did, he asked himself, would they be enemy nationals or traitors?

Gritting his teeth, he returned to the paperwork.  It had to be done.

And it might distract him from his new thoughts.

***

“You appear to be slipping,” Jess taunted, as she jumped backwards.  “Or are you too angry to think straight?”

Sandy scowled, then took another swipe at the Marine.  Jess was right; anger and frustration were driving her, rather than cool calculation.  But then, she had good reason to be angry and knew it.  Sweat trickled down her brow as she came after Jess, trying to land a blow on her before she could dodge.  The Marine seemed to move out the way effortlessly.

“You’re out of practice,” Jess sneered, leaning forward.  Sandy launched a punch at her jaw that missed when the Marine darted back.  “You call yourself a Marine?”

“I call myself a Commander,” Sandy said, as she came to a halt. 
She was no Marine.  Sweat was dripping off her brow; angrily, she removed one of her gloves and wiped her hand across her forehead.  Jess always made Sandy push herself to the limit.  “Being a Marine isn't in the job description.”

“Good thing you’re not in the movies,” Jess said.  She didn't even seem to be sweating, Sandy noted.  Her powerful body, rippling with muscles, bore the scars of years in the Marine Corps.  “You’d be expected to lead away teams personally.”

Sandy snorted.  The movies had the Captain or the First Officer leading such teams in person, even though there were far more qualified personnel on even the smallest starship.  No starship crewman would board a pirate ship when the Marines could handle it without their presence.  Real life, as always, was less dramatic than the movies made it out to be.

“It’s been too long,” she said, looking around the training room.  Thankfully, Jess had reserved it for them and them alone, leaving the rest of her Marines in Marine Country.  “I think I need more exercise.”

“Just keep imagining the Governor’s face on the training holograms,” Jess advised.  “That should encourage you to hit harder.”

“Thank you,” Sandy said.  “And maybe the Intelligence Officer too.”

“Some of my Marines have already been ogling her,” Jess said, in tones of deepest disapproval.  “I had to tell them that she was so cold that their cocks would freeze and break off inside her.”

They shared a laugh.  Marines were technically outside the starship’s chain of command, with their CO reporting directly to the Captain.  It gave them a certain degree of independence, although both parties were careful not to put too much pressure on the relationship.  And, Sandy knew, affairs between Marines and crew were not uncommon.  They just tended not to last more than a few months.

“I’d like to get her into the training room,” Sandy said, as she stepped into the refresher and pulled off her sodden shirt.  Jess always made her sweat buckets when they worked out together.  The Marine was incapable of giving any less than her best, which was probably why Sandy rarely managed to land a punch.  “One or two blows and she would be much more respectful.”

She scowled at the thought, pulling off her shorts and dropping them in the basket.  The Intelligence Officer had been subtle, but not subtle enough to fool someone who had spent over thirty years in one war zone or another.  She
was
taking an interest in Sandy and, as far as Sandy knew, there was only one plausible reason for such interest.  Her homeworld was the core of the Bottleneck Republic.  On one hand, Sandy could understand why Cynthia would be concerned; on the other, she found the whole situation insulting.  Where had Cynthia been when Sandy had been risking her life fighting the Dragons?

In kindergarten, mainly
, she thought, wryly.  Cynthia’s file was largely sealed, at least to a lowly Commander such as herself, but the few details that were publically available stated that Cynthia was barely twenty-two.  She’d joined the TFN at sixteen – that was rare, which made her wonder just what lay in the locked files – and had been streamlined into the Office of Naval Intelligence.  ONI, a law unto itself when it came to promotions, had made her a Commander (Intelligence) and assigned her to various starships. 
Dauntless
was merely her latest posting.

But she was even younger than the Captain ...

“Probably,” Jess agreed, as she followed Sandy into the compartment.  The Marine stripped bare in a smooth economical motion, threw her clothes into the basket and then stepped under the shower.  “But beating up Intelligence Officers would probably be taken as a sign of guilt.”

Sandy nodded, admiring Jess’s muscled back before looking away, feeling a twinge of guilt.  Marines didn't seem to care about showering together, but Sandy privately found Jess attractive enough to want to stare at her ... it wouldn't lead anywhere, she knew, no matter what happened.  Jess wasn't interested in women, merely men.  It was definitely a waste.

She pushed the thought aside, cooled the shower and allowed the water to wash the sweat from her body.  As always, she was aching slightly; she silently promised herself to spend more time working out with Jess in future.  There was a naval tradition that young crewmen and officers had to spend at least two hours exercising every day – or, if they wanted, they could spar with the Marines instead.  It was quicker, but few younger officers took them up on it, apart from the handful who were true martial artists.  Most of the crew learned nothing more than basic self-defence.

“I’m looking forward to meeting with the Hammers again,” Jess said.  She turned her shower off and stepped into the next room, her voice drifting back from the compartment.  “We had a good rapport with them during the T’Chaills Campaign.  I was just a lowly jarhead at the time, but we still had fun.”

Sandy had to smile.  The ground campaign on T’Chaills had been a nightmare, at least for the Federation Marines and Colonial Militia.  It had been the first world the Dragons had conquered when they’d leapt into space and the Admiralty had decided that merely isolating the planet and leaving it to die on the vine was insufficient.  Hundreds of thousands of ground troops had been shipped in to take the planet; nearly half of them had returned in body bags, if their bodies had been recovered.  The Dragons had known, perhaps, that they were doomed, but they’d resisted savagely.  By the time the planet had been declared pacified, millions of the Dragon settlers were dead.