No Honor in Death (25 page)

"Well," Siobhan shrugged, "I guess the
Mykonos
has a lot to hide, but if she's really SSB, she wouldn't be set-up all that different.  We have our orders."

Bertram snorted softly.  "Begging' yer pardon, sir, she ain't a spook ship, even if every last crew member flashed me a nice badge tellin' they're special agents of the SecGen.  I can tell when a barky's legit and when she's full of hogwash.  That one there,"  he pointed his thumb at the rear of the shuttle, "is up to no good."  He tapped his large nose.  "I can smell it."

"I agree with Nosey, sir," Chief Foste said.  "She doesn't feel right at all.  Too bad we got orders to let her go.  A little creative search and interrogation would have told us one hell of a different story.   Even if the Captain was SSB, his crew isn't.  There are probably more than a few of them who are wanted by various jurisdictions, including the Fleet."

"Security woman's instinct, Chief?" Siobhan asked.

"Aye, sir.  I've learned to trust my gut over the years."

"So have I, Chief, so have I.  Still, it's strange..."  Siobhan's eyes rested on the bare metal bulkhead as she paused.

"What is, sir?"  Foste asked.

"Well, a lot of things Chief.  Our friend Slayton knows Commander Forenza and Admiral Kaleri for one.  For another, his hold is probably filled to the rafters with Starfleet supplies hidden inside shielded crates, supplies which could easily have come from Starbase 31's depot, judging by the serial numbers.  Then, we've got the
Stingray
which has been chronically short of parts and supplies for months, even though the tender should be bringing up a full stock and the Base's depot is full.  Tell me, Rajmurti, did you know PO Melchor well?"

All of a sudden, Siobhan sensed a curtain dropping between her and the others, as if she's just stepped on forbidden ground.  Their eyes refused to meet hers, and their faces turned to stone.

"No, sir, " Rajmurti finally replied, staring at the deck.  And that was the end of the discussion.  A minute or so later, the shuttle settled down in the hangar and they disembarked, the ratings and Chief leaving Siobhan alone with Kowalski with such alacrity that she felt she'd began to show signs of the plague.  A searing sense of frustration filled her mouth with the taste of acid.  She turned towards the cockpit, watching as Kowalski finished her post-flight checks and released the straps holding her in the seat.

When the Signals Officer got up, she noticed Dunmoore watching her with a cat's intensity, and a chill ran down her spine.

"Mister Kowalski,  you're an observant type.  Do you think we've just been had by the
Mykonos
?"  Siobhan's voice was soft, almost hypnotic.

Kowalski met her gaze and slowly nodded.

"Personally, I think it stinks to high heaven and I'm tired of getting jerked around.  If I ask you to tell me what you know about events on this ship prior to my taking command, are you going to clam-up or lie to me like the others?"

The Signals Officer didn't move or speak for a long count.  Then, she did something which surprised Siobhan and shook her to the core.  She placed her index finger in front of her mouth, then raised her hand to her ear and cupped it, while pointing up at the ceiling with her other hand, in the universal sign of 'don't talk anymore, we're being overheard.'  Then, she mouthed the letters S-I-S.

THIRTEEN

Jhar wrinkled his nose at his superior's appearance when the latter climbed out of his personal shuttle.  Brakal's uniform was liberally smeared with traces of offal, mud and waste, traces he was unable to remove before lifting off, and he exuded a distinctly rotten odour.  But his eyes shined with the excitement of battle.

"Commander, have you been consorting with the lower orders of the city again?" Jhar asked, his voice full of rough humour.  The refit progressed well, and he was in good spirits.  "Your appearance suggests a roll in shit with a cheap whore."

"Hah," Brakal barked, grinning, "just the effects of a warning delivered to me, courtesy of Admiral Trage."

Jhar snorted.  "I did not realize Trage's tongue was so filthy as to leave those putrid traces on your fine uniform, though it hardly surprises me.  May I suggest disinfectant and decontamination, before we all die of some repulsive disease?"

Brakal laughed heartily at the treasonous joke, though Toralk, securing the shuttle nearby, made a disgusted face.  The Clan Lord of the Makkar took the incident far too lightly in Toralk's opinion.  This attitude would one day spell his doom, and probably that of Clan Makkar.  Too many jealous intriguers had thrown covetous eyes on the Clan's rich estates.  It would merely take an Imperial edict declaring the Makkar line extinct once Brakal passed on to join his ancestors, for he had no offspring or siblings who could lay legal claim to the title, only cousins.  And they had no power or influence at Court.

"Trage would never dare face me as a man, Jhar," Brakal sneered good-naturedly.  "No, this happened on my way back from the Admiralty."

"Let me guess: in the lower town.  I told you that route was dangerous."

"Only when the
Tai Kan
is on the loose, Jhar."  Brakal showed his teeth.

"When is the
Tai Kan
not on the loose, Commander?  So, the Council finally decided to send you to join your father."

"Not quite yet.  It was a most instructive incident.  A
Tai Kan
operative rescued me from two professional killers, also hired by the
Tai Kan
.  He killed them both.  A quite unmistakable warning."

"You are sure they were
Tai Kan
hirelings?"

"Oh yes, Jhar, quite.  And I am as sure they came courtesy of Trage."

"Could it not have been Hralk?"

"No.  That excrement eater does not have the connections or the power to make the
Tai Kan
waste two of their contract killers for a simple warning.  It was Trage and the Council.  They are still too frightened to kill me outright, but their courage seems to gain in strength every time I return to the surface."

"Only because you provoke them, Commander,"  Jhar grumbled.  "A little submission would go a long way to ensuring your survival."

"Piss on submission, Jhar.  I would rather submit to a human female than let those incestuous fornicators lose the Empire by their stupidity and cowardice."

"Strong words, Commander."  Jhar frowned.  "The
Tai Kan
's spies will no doubt be happy to transmit them to the Council."

"Piss on the
Tai Kan
too for that matter, Jhar,"  Brakal growled, suddenly bereft of his earlier, fierce good humour.  "They are as much part of the problem as the whores at the Admiralty. The humans will win this war if we do not adapt and overcome.  And none of the blind fools down below seem to realize this.  Bah!  How long before we are ready to sail?"

"Two days, Commander."

"Two days too much," Brakal grumbled as he strode off towards his quarters.  He had opposed the war in the first place, and now had to watch with disgust the slow erosion of the Imperial Fleet's fighting power and spirit.  Maybe it would be better if he died in battle, so that his line died out before it became stained with the dishonor of defeat.

Humans were hard to understand, but the last war should have taught the Empire at least one thing: the humans' one constant was their unpredictability.  It was their greatest strength. That and the deceptive way in which their alien, chaotic political system seemed to signal weakness, when it hid cold, hard steel at the core.  Like the First Officer of the battleship that refused to die. Dunmoore.  He rolled the unfamiliar name on his tongue, wondering whether she had achieved the honors denied to him.

A few more mad commanders like her, and the war was lost, for the Empire could not deal with such unbounded tactical madness.

"Commander, a Lieutenant Khrada has come aboard.  He carries orders from the Admiralty."

Brakal stabbed at the intercom irritably, his temper frayed by the endless paperwork necessary to release his ship from the Yard Master's jealous embrace.  Half the Fleet's problems in fighting this war, it seemed, stemmed from the mindless bureaucracy which stifled even the most determined officer.

"Deal with it, Jhar."

"I regret, Commander, but he carries orders appointing him to the
Tol Vakash
.  He demands to see you."

Brakal sat up in surprise.  A mere Lieutenant demanding to see a starship commander?  And with orders appointing him to a vessel that already carried a full complement of officers, hand-picked to a man.  Jhar's choice of words had been no accident.  Khrada had to be a political officer, a uniformed
Tai Kan
man sent to watch over Brakal.

He slammed his fist on his desk in anger.  Trage and the Council go too far.

"Send him to my quarters," he snarled, then shut off the intercom with a savage gesture.  Political officers were a nuisance at best and a danger to the ship at any time.  So far, the Council had not dared to make the practice common among the Fleet, though it had forced them on the ground troops shortly after the start of the war.

Most were chosen for their loyalty to the current Council and its individual members, and not for their martial prowess, yet even the least qualified among them wore officer's rank and uniform, and presumed to interfere in the running of a unit.  But they could be fobbed off.  The really dangerous ones were those who had come to their appointment after serving in the Fleet.  These knew enough to make any commander's life a misery, and more often than not were officers too incompetent or venal to attain high rank through honest means.  They worked out their bitterness and gnawing anger on those who won success.

The door chime buzzed angrily and Brakal snapped, "Come."

It slid aside to reveal a powerfully built officer of middle age, wearing his hair in the Warrior Caste fashion.  He stepped through, his arrogant eyes taking in the spartan cabin and Brakal's dark face without emotion.  He sat down, uninvited, his gestures and demeanour making a joke of his lowly rank and supposed deference to a starship commander.  Brakal, kept his temper in tight check and observed Khrada with hooded eyes, waiting for the man to speak first.

"Commander,"  Khrada nodded, finally acknowledging the occupant of the cabin and master of the cruiser
Tol Vakash
.  His tone turned the word into a mockery of courtesy.  Brakal knew Khrada was trying to provoke him and refused to rise to the bait.

"Lieutenant," Brakal replied in the same tone.  "Your business on my ship?"

Khrada tossed a data wafer on the pile of printouts in front of Brakal.  None of the cruiser's officers would have dared behave in such a manner, and the
Tai Kan
man knew it.  His eyes glittered with a kind of sick anticipation.  Brakal's volatility and fierce temper were well known. A simple trap then, Brakal decided.  He ignored the gesture.

"By order of the Admiralty, I am appointed as political officer on the
Tol Vakash
, to promote the crew's loyalty to the Emperor and encourage their fighting spirit."

Brakal smiled dangerously, revealing sharp teeth.

"Really?"  He asked with obvious disbelief.  "I thought the
Tai Kan
's function was to scare those who refused to lick the Council's collective bum so that it can hold complete control over the Fleet and indeed the Empire."

Khrada returned the smile, unconcerned, and shrugged.  "As you wish, Commander.  I suggest you acquaint yourself with my credentials and my brief on board this vessel.  You will find your life has taken a different turn."  He made to rise when Brakal's voice lashed out and stopped him.

"You are not dismissed, Lieutenant."

The political officer looked at Brakal with barely disguised amusement, but remained seated, waiting for the expected storm to break.  Brakal's next words erased his smile.

"I do not give a whore's fart for your credentials or your brief, nor do I care who sent you here to spy on me.  You have been appointed to my ship.  Fine.  But that means you will obey my orders at all times or suffer the consequences.  If I have to kill you, I will do so with pleasure.  At the slightest provocation.  One less
Tai Kan
swine in the universe is a blessing of the ancestors.  You may report my words to Admiral Trage and you may also tell him that the Clan Lord of the Makkar is tiring of his games.  He should take care to avoid provoking the old Clans of true lineage any further.  The Regent will not permit him and the Council to jeopardize the Emperor's reign by provoking the nobility."

Khrada stared in disbelief at Brakal's open defiance and insults to the leader of the Council.  Whatever he had expected, in his
Tai Kan
arrogance, this was not it.

"Close your mouth Lieutenant.  You look like a backwater colonist seeing a
gan
-dancer for the first time.  You are dismissed." 

Brakal turned his attention to the printouts on the desk, ignoring the furious
Tai Kan
officer.  Khrada was not used to this kind of contempt from line officers and Brakal's reaction unbalanced him.  Others usually showed fear at the appearance of a secret police officer, but on this ship, he had encountered nothing but amused contempt.  After a few seconds, during which he closed his gaping mouth, Khrada rose and left the cabin, intending to report this conversation to his superiors at once.

Out in the corridor, he met a smirking Jhar, who blocked his way with an outstretched arm.

"One moment,
Lieutenant
," Jhar drawled contemptuously.  "Now that the Commander has made his position clear, I wish to do the same."

"Get out of my way,
bechin
," Khrada snarled, calling Jhar by the dismissive title used for low-caste workers, an obvious reference to his low-caste birth.

"What did you call me?" Jhar asked dangerously, refusing to budge.

Khrada's lips curled back in a distorted grin, revealing rows of cracked, yellow teeth.  "You may have been raised to the Warrior Caste, Jhar, but you still carry the stench of a
bechin
.  Take care who you challenge.  You were born in shit, and have no family name to hide behind, like your precious Commander."

Without warning, or telegraphing his intentions, Jhar lashed out at Khrada, his fist catching the bigger man in the lower abdomen like a meteorite strike.  Unprepared for the assault, Khrada grunted as he bent over in pain, the air forced out of his lungs.  But Jhar gave him no time to recover or even react.  He jerked his knee into Khrada's face, connecting savagely with the other's jaw, while his joined hands slammed down on the back of the political officer's head.  Khrada collapsed to the deck in an untidy heap, breathing with difficulty and grunting in blinding pain.

Jhar contemptuously kicked him.  "You too should take care who you challenge,
Lieutenant
.  Those born
bechin
learn hand-to-hand combat the hard way, in the streets, not in some rich family's dojo.  We learn to fear no one.  I am second to Brakal on this ship, and you will obey me or die. I suggest you watch your step at all times, because the
Tai Kan
is hated even more that the humans on the
Tol Vakash
, and I would not feel any sorrow if you suddenly had a fatal accident.  Oh," Jhar smiled as Khrada looked up at him, "you should know that we sail in two hours.  No one is to leave the ship, or use the communications facilities, and that includes the Council's bum-licking spies.  Should you try, the sentries at the airlock have orders to kill you.  Your quarters are on deck three.  Confine yourself to them until we have jumped."

Jhar turned and walked away.  He had enjoyed giving the spy a good warning, but knew that Khrada could not be allowed to live once the
Tol Vakash
began the hunt.  The man was much too dangerous to Brakal, and to the ship.  Accidents happen in space.  More
Tai Kan
die that way than through enemy action and Khrada would not be the first on this ship.  Clan Makkar's feud with the Imperial Council was as old as the war itself.  If only the old Emperor had survived until his son's coming of age.  But the brain tumour that killed him knew no cure on this side of the border.  In medicine, if nothing else, the humans were well ahead of the Empire.  But honor, carried by the nobility to a peak of stupidity, forbade asking the supposedly weak Commonwealth for assistance.