The First Casualty

Chapter Seventeen

The third day, the port master called. “Hey, you squatter over there. We got orders to open that hulk to space and kill all the vermin. We're sending a couple of shuttles to lift you out. Be packed and ready. And pack lightly, you hear.”

“Owe, this is Matt. You've inspected the Maggie D a dozen times. You never found one bug. Hassan's baking up a batch of his focaccia bread. Come over for a loaf or two.”

“Hassan's!”

“Yep. Even zero-gee baked, it tastes great.” “Damn it, Matt, I got my orders. You folks got to go.” “Can you give me an extra couple of days?” “You really got some of Hassan's focaccia bread?” “Three loaves are yours.” Mattim rang off on that promise.

“What we gonna do, sir?” Ding asked. “What's the Book say?” he asked. “Nothing in the Book, sir, about being marooned on your own ship as it's going under the breaker's torch.”

“Yeah.” They'd won their battle and their war. They were alive and in one piece. So why didn't it feel so good? That night, as had become their custom, all hands shared supper on a single mess deck. With mostly officers and chiefs left aboard, and the middies falling somewhere in between, there seemed little reason to keep the crew divided along arbitrary lines. The eviction was news to no one as they settled in to their meal. They chewed Hassan's delicious rations and their future. The chow was good—the future lousy.

“We save the life of everyone on this planet and this is what we get?” seemed to say it for all. Finding a way home across half the galaxy was easy compared to finding a way through two bureaucracies bent on ... what?

“What do they want?” Ding asked. “We're here. We've got no money for food or fuel. We can't call home. This is crazy. I always knew the ship I was on might be lost in battle, but lost in filing ...”

“Matt, we got any credit on the Red Flag Line?” Sandy asked.

“Folks, Ding and I have tried everything, legal or no. We had some charge codes left over from our merchant days. Tried them. They're not valid. Tried our navy charge codes. All canceled. I even tried my own personal charge accounts. Funds are unavailable.”

“I tried mine too,” Ding added. “Same answer.”

“We don't exist,” Chief Aso said.

“You must have pissed a lot of people off—big time,” Sergeant Dumont put in snidely.

“Can think of five or fifty, but all of them getting together to get me ...” The miner/marine Lek shook his head.

“You and me both, friend.” Mattim summed it up.

After supper, Mattim started an inspection walk; in zero-gee it was more a drift. He soon found Mary beside him. “I thought your marines would have headed back on the transport,” he said.

Mary laughed. “To what? Nobody wants us. Miners got no jobs. Dumont and his kids never had a decent one. Why go back? First day of shooting we were kind of hoping the colonials would ask us to surrender so we could get it over with quickly.”

“Did they?”

“Nope. Killed a couple of us, and that didn't leave much room for talk. Listen, you were trying charge numbers. I got a couple with miner's money in them. Can we check them out?”

They did. Nothing.

Ray collapsed on the blanket under the trees. He'd spent an hour on the bars and walked all the way out here, just him and the damn canes. Of course, the braces helped. He was starting to like them.

Rita was wearing that sundress. Rather, one of them. He'd had to marry her to discover she had half her closet full of sundresses. He wondered how long the dress would stay on, and quietly prayed it would for a while. He was exhausted.

The dress was halfway off when a voice called, “Daughter, are you decent? I have someone to talk with you and Ray.”

The dress came back on as Rita sat up cross-legged beside him. “We're over here, Father, and yes, we're decent.”

Ernest appeared a minute later. He and the spy each carried a pair of lawn chairs. It took a moment for them to arrange themselves, Rita in a chair beside Ray, her hem pulled down demurely below her knees. The industrialist and the spy master were directly across from them. “Colonel, I want to thank you personally,” the fat man began, “for saving all our lives. Earth would have pounded us, and Urm would have done nothing.”

“Colonel?” Ray asked.

“A well-deserved promotion on your retirement,” Ernest advised him.

Ray was familiar with “tombstone promotions”: he winced. “Santiago earned the promotion. He's the one who saved us.”

The spy shook his head. “You had the invitation. You got the bomb past the guards. If we had not had your war wound to hide behind, and you willing to walk in front, the bomb would still be sitting in what was left of my office.”

Ray let that pass into silence. He still wasn't sure how he felt about it all. For a long minute nothing was said. Then the spy master went on. “The government is in shambles as we weed out the worst of the Unity thugs. Wardhaven is better off than many planets. We still have much of the previous government in place. Still, how do we come to terms with the nightmare of the last two years?” Ray had no idea; why did he have a suspicion he was about to learn? The fat man went on.

“You, Colonel Longknife, are something rare today. As a soldier, you fought for us. And, as a soldier, you fought against Unity. That makes you special.”

“As a soldier, I lost my battle,” Ray growled.

“And we lost the war. Still, you fought honorably and are much admired. We need men like you in the government.”

Ray was shaking his head before the spy finished. “I'm a soldier. I fight an enemy. I'm not a politician. In case you don't remember, the one time I met one, I tried to kill him.”

Ernest was grinning. “I told you he'd say that.”

The spy nodded sourly. “Yes, you did. But your daughter said he had his price. We just have to offer him the right bribe.”

“Wife,” Ray said, turning on his bride. She was grinning from ear to ear. “What did you tell them?”

“Just that the job had to be one you could sink your teeth into. One that would make for a better tomorrow for our child.” She played her ace, patting her not yet swelling belly. “One that would let you oversee the ships going out to explore the universe.”

“Colonel Longknife,” the spy began, “I have been asked by those who are forming the new government to ascertain if you would be willing to accept the post of Minister of Science and Technology.”

“Science and Technology,” Ray echoed. “Never heard of it.”

“A new position,” Ernest answered. “You can make of it what you want.”

“Think of it, Ray.',' Rita was at his knees, hands playing along his thighs. Lately, he'd gotten feeling back there. “Science and Tech is our chance to get the rim worlds moving. No more waiting for Earth or someone else to come up with new ideas. Wardhaven is halving its defense budget. That money can go into R&D. Think of what we can do.”

Ray had the distinct feeling that he might be wearing the minister's sash, but he knew who would be running his office.

“And we get ships,” she finished. “The new Bureau of Scouting and Exploration will report to us.” Her grin was so wide, the edges had disappeared around the back of her head.

“Think we can hire the ship that came back from the sour jump?” he asked her.

“Why not? It's in orbit above us and its crew, or the best part of it, is still aboard.”

Long ago, Longknife had learned not to accept gift horses. He turned to the spy. “What's going on?” he growled.

The spy was a long time answering. He took out his sniffers and made a long show of confirming the area secure. “You recall the young woman who made your first briefcase go pop when it should have gone boom? Well, we have been looking into her employer very carefully. Especially since we intercepted a frantic call from a group of her comrades to the ship that was about to relativity bomb Wardhaven, asking to know where would be safe. Those who want money are frequently unwilling to die for an unspent bank account.

“We intercepted another hasty communication out of Rostock shortly after the President was pronounced dead. It seems that the head of his security detail was also double-dipping.”

“Earth,” Ray breathed.

“Not Earth government, or any other planetary government. Rather an association of likeminded power brokers.”

“I've dealt with some of them,” Ernest sighed. “Never knew it, but I was.”

“Urm was their puppet!” Rita was incredulous.

“No.” The spy shook his head firmly. “Urm created himself, and we cannot shirk our own responsibility for willingly selling our souls to him. We have no one to blame for this nightmare but ourselves. Let us say that Urm was greedy, and where greed rules, one is never sure who is leading and who is following.

“What matters to you is that the ship of exploration was to be the ship of our execution. And just as it refused to stay lost, it refused to slaughter us. Now, it is more lost, not in space but in a black hole of bureaucratic creation. Powerful men want it to stay lost. What do you say?”

“I say we've got a job for them.” Rita and Ray spoke in unison.

“Not wise, but then, I myself am feeding the information from my investigation back to Earth. It will be interesting to see how their elected officials react to it. With luck, our mutual friends will be too busy to notice one ship escaping from their black hole.”

They were halfway through breakfast when Zappa came flying into the mess deck, “I got e-mail from Mom,” she squealed.

“Well, at least a mother's love can find us,” Ding muttered.

As Mattim finished his tube of porridge, Zappa grabbed a handhold on his table. “I asked one of the kids going home to tell my folks I was all right. Mom's paid for a reply. What should I tell her?”

The speaker came alive. “Comm for the captain. We got message traffic from a ship That just jumped in-system.”

“Things are looking up.” Mattim grinned. “Put it on screen down here. No use making the troops wait for the rumor mill.”

“Mat, this is Elie Miller. I've been mustered out, and I wanted to get back in touch with you. Had a lousy time finding you, but I remembered that girl from your ship, Zappa. Her folks told me she was still on Wardhaven. Andy is retiring and looking for new fields. I've still got six months of a sabbatical left, so I'm in no rush to get back. Thought we might team up. A couple of old tugboat captains at Pitt's Hope offered us a fast ride to Wardhaven. They look like pirates or smugglers to me, but we took them up on the offer. We're in-system. Do you still have all the kids with you? Over.”

He glanced around the room. Every eye was on him, kids, marines, both Navy and merchant crew. “Right now we're having problems with our credit chits. People who get too close to us suddenly have their bank accounts unavailable and their credit numbers lost. The kids are still here. They've set up their own university. Over.”

“Andy figured there was trouble when we couldn't find you anywhere on net. He and I bulletproofed our money before we took off. See you soon. Bye.”

There were cheers among the middies, and back-pounding that led to some interesting twists in zero gravity. “Make enough friends,” Sandy said with a grin, “somebody's bound to look you up.”

“Comm here. We got a message from the port captain. There's a buyer that wants to look the ship over. Shuttle due here in thirty minutes.”

Ding snorted. “Make enough enemies, and they're bound to hunt you down, too.”

“This doesn't feel right,” Ivan growled. “Selling a warship to the enemy. I mean, just been enemy... You know.” Ding shook her head. “Strange, but not unusual. Peace breaks out, wrecks get scrapped where they lay.”

“The Maggie’s no wreck.” Mattim gnawed his lower lip. “She's a crime scene and a working warship. I don't like this.” He turned to Mary. “I'd like to prepare a reception for whoever it is who thinks they can buy a ship out from under me. You and yours game?”

Mary took in her marines. She liked what she saw. “Yeah.”

Rita piloted the shuttle. Before docking with the Sheffield , she did a turn around her. Most of the ice was gone. One raw gash showed along the port side. Whatever had caused it had started inside. Ray had read the classified reports on the way up. He hated mutiny.

He hated genocide worse.

Things must have gotten lively aboard that boat.

Rita docked them with a gentle bump. Glad to leave his canes behind, Ray went hand over hand to the exit. He led, she followed. Rita's newly hired driver, an ex-corporal from the 2nd Guard, trailed them, his hand in his coat. So their fellow was armed.

Ray froze at the door. Drawn up along the back of the bay was a welcoming committee—damn near a platoon of marines in full battle gear. Left arms anchored them to a cable. Right arms held assault weapons at the ready.

Lines crisscrossed the bay. Out of the marines' line of fire to his left, a collection of naval officers drifted in formation. Ray squelched the automatic reaction to render honors as was appropriate when boarding ship; he was not in uniform. He pushed himself forward. “Mighty nice of you to meet us,” he said.

Mattim wasn't quite sure what he expected. The show of force was just that, a show. If it came to a fight, he'd surrender before firing a shot. Still, he wouldn't give up the ship without a try at bluffing his way through. The Maggie was still a good merchant ship, dinged a bit, needed some work, but a quick and easy conversion back to what she'd been. She was also a very deadly warship.

The man who lead the “buyers” was military to the core, back ramrod straight even as he came aboard hand over hand. Mattim spotted the flickering start to rendering honors before it was aborted. The woman behind him was beautiful in a pilot's jumper, sporting military rank he did not recognize. Her he recognized. When last he'd seen her, she'd been a happy kid, showing him around her father's gardens. Hers had been one of the faces on the bombs he refused to deliver. The last man aboard screamed bodyguard both by his carriage and by the hand in his jacket pocket. Mattim moved to meet them; the three newcomers halted in place. With Ding and Mary at his back, Mattim quickly blocked their way.

“I am Captain Mattim Abeeb, licensed merchant officer and commissioned officer of the Society of Humanity Navy, presently commanding this ship, Sheffield .” Okay, ape, let's pound our chests and see who runs.

“I am Ray Longknife, formerly of the Second Guard Brigade. This is my wife, Senior Pilot Officer Rita Longknife and her driver, also formerly of the Second. It seems I am to be offered Minister of Research and Technology in the next government for Wardhaven. My wife thinks we need a ship.” The man didn't bat an eyelash as he laid his cards face up on the table. Not a bad hand. Mattim concluded.

“Seems like you need a yacht more than a beat-up light cruiser,” Ding snapped.

Mattim pointed behind him. “This is my Executive Officer, Commander Colin Ding, and the commander of the marine detachment, Captain Mary Rodrigo, formerly of the Ninety-seventh Defense Brigade.”

That brought raised eyebrows from the “buyers.” “Were you at the pass the first day?” Longknife asked.

Mary nodded. “We did what we had to.”

Longknife's eyes took on a distant smile. “I'd like to hear your story, Captain. Could I buy you a drink sometime?”

“Be glad to, but I'd much prefer you didn't buy this ship out from underneath me, sir,” Mary quipped, and brought them to the heart of the matter.

“I don't know what you've heard about us.” Mattim's words were soft, but he poured as much power through them as Ivan pushed out his engines. “But we are not traitors. We may have drawn the line at bombing a billion civilians, but turning over an operational warship to Unity is not on the same side of the line. We've shown we know how to wreck a ship. We'll make sure it's nothing but scrap if we have to.”

Rita looked around, almost lovingly. “I've lost one ship this war, I'd hate to cause the loss of another one. Especially one that's gone so far.” That got Mattim's attention.

“Yes,” Mr. Longknife said, “we intercepted your message to the Ninety-seventh about the sour jump, or rather my wife did. I've never seen her so excited. I have not let my wife talk me into a political post so others can use me for a figurehead. Once upon a time, I was a damn good soldier. And I promised a dead man I'd make the future worth all the lives that paid for it. I think opening up the universe would meet his specs.”

“A billion stars just waiting for us.” The woman smiled and patted her stomach. “What a present for our child.”

Longknife held out his hand. “My friends call me Ray. The ship will have to haul cargo to keep us from going too far into the red. I need an experienced merchant skipper and crew.”

Mattim looked at the hand. “If I'm going to be wandering the stars, never sure of what I may stick my nose into, I'll need more than the usual crew.” He slipped aside and left the stranger facing Ding and Mary.

Longknife took the measure of the two of them. “I don't expect you to go looking for a fight, but good gunners and good troops can come in handy a lot of places. What do you say?”

Ding's answer was quick. “We're ready now, sir.”

Mary glanced around at her marines. “It beats the last job we had. Sure is a damn sight more interesting.”

Mattim reached for his new employer's hand. “My friends call me Matt.”

“We get to go jump point hopping!” Zappa crowed from among the middies.

Sandy chuckled. “I wonder what we'll find out there? Or who?