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A familiar narrow, aristocratic face dominated by piercing blue eyes and topped with carefully sculpted white hair appeared on the primary display.
“Captain Dunmoore, as I live and breathe. Welcome to Kilia.” Mikhail Forenza’s amused smile held a trace of warmth, if not quite friendship. “I was expecting you. And yes, I will explain everything.”
“This is a day rife with surprises, it seems. How have you been?”
“Doing tolerably well.” His smile grew warmer, and some of it reached his eyes. “But like another old warhorse of my acquaintance, I’ve not prospered as much as I had hoped, even though peace hasn’t made my work less onerous. On the contrary. Still, being the Colonial Office Intelligence Service station chief on a crossroads like Kilia beats riding a desk back on Earth.”
Her eyes widened slightly in surprise.
“I didn’t know the Colonial Office opened a consulate here.”
“We don’t advertise since diplomacy serves as a cover for the consulate’s true function as a Commonwealth listening post in what is nominally a neutral zone. So yes, I’m officially the consul, but my actual job is coordinating the Service’s intelligence outposts on human-settled worlds in the Protectorate.”
A frown creased Dunmoore’s forehead as several pieces fell into place.
“Since you’re using a subspace channel that doesn’t originate on Kilia and you’re presumably in touch with those scattered outposts, may I assume you have subspace relays the Navy doesn’t know about?”
“Indeed. After the war, the Colonial Office set up its own network when it became clear the Navy wouldn’t risk being accused of violating the Treaty by creating its own intelligence nodes in the Zone. Since we’re a civilian organization, the Shrehari can hardly point their fingers at us, not when they do the same thing. You noticed the so-called Shrehari science vessel in orbit? It’s a bit of a mobile version of our consulate.”
“I spoke with its captain just now. He called to tell me I was violating the Treaty but remained polite when I told him about my mission.” Another thought struck her. “You said you were expecting us?”
“Yes, my superiors are allowing the Fleet to use our communications network for this operation — via your former first officer who was collaborating with my superiors on other matters before this happened. I’m fully briefed on the events and your orders and am at your disposal.”
“Retak said the ship currently docked is Arkanna-made.”
Forenza nodded.
“Indeed, and the ships that took Athena are of the same construction, but Retak isn’t entirely correct in calling them Arkanna. As so often happens, the situation is rather more complex by several orders of magnitude.”
Dunmoore allowed herself a wry grin, remembering the two times her path crossed with Forenza’s.
“Don’t I know it.”
“As you’ll recall, after the war, the Navy sold off thousands of surplus starships, mostly civilian hulls pressed into service or taken as prizes, and wartime transports built to supply vastly larger Armed Forces. Some enterprising trader sold a few to the Arkanna, whose own faster-than-light shipbuilding industry is generations behind ours and the Shrehari’s. Since their star systems essentially make up an autarky of sorts, they’ve never been driven to develop long-range vessels. Still, the Arkanna face growing social issues because of population growth. So they not only bought surplus human ships from unscrupulous traders shortly after the war but used them as templates to build their own improved version, the result of which you see docked here.”
Dunmoore nodded. “I see, but I’m sure it gets even more complicated.”
“Oh, indeed, Captain. The Arkanna are a matriarchal species, and one way they control excess males is by sending them off-world. Building a fleet of long-range FTL ships gave them the perfect means to channel their males’ energies and enrich their worlds through trade and conquest. Those ships reached this part of the Zone a few years ago. And here, they met a new player, one which Naval Intelligence is only now recognizing as a potential threat, although the SSB are probably using them for their own ends. Did you ever hear of the Confederacy of the Howling Stars?”
“No.” She shook her head.
“I’m not surprised. Our beloved Commonwealth is the greatest accretion of information silos in human history. The SSB doesn’t speak with my Service or the Fleet, none of the three speak with any other federal agency, and star system police forces don’t speak to the feds, period. Nevertheless, the Colonial Office and Naval Intelligence have begun working together behind the scenes, despite our political and bureaucratic masters, mainly because a few in each took risks and reached out.”
“Information is power.”
Forenza nodded.
“Precisely. And because people hoard information, we end up with things like the Athena hijacking. In any case, the Confederacy of the Howling Stars was founded by disgruntled Fleet veterans after the war and rapidly grew to become a criminal organization offering mercenaries for hire along the Commonwealth’s outer edges, especially in the Rim Sector and the Protectorate. A few years ago, the Howlers met the Arkanna, and while it wasn’t a match made in heaven, both decided they could help each other prosper.
“The latter offered newly built ships for sale while the former operated hulls worn out by age and war. But they know this part of space and will ally themselves with any like-minded beings who can send business their way. As a result, clear territorial lines were drawn, with the star systems closest to the Commonwealth becoming exclusive Confederacy hunting grounds, while those closest to Arkanna space became theirs. The rest of the Zone is open to both. Thus, the Arkanna-built sloop docked here is crewed by humans belonging to the Confederacy of the Howling Stars rather than Arkanna. The ones who took Athena will almost certainly be as well since the Arkanna do not want to risk a confrontation with either the Commonwealth or their Confederacy allies.”
Dunmoore’s frown returned. “Why would human mercenaries who operate exclusively in the Zone, especially Fleet veterans, hijack a liner inside the Commonwealth?”
“That’s easily answered, Captain. Someone back home hired them. But who, and for what reason? It’s a given there’s more to come in this matter.” A shrug. “All I can tell you is that logic dictates you’ll find the paymaster closer to Earth than Kilia.”
“Right now, I’ll settle for finding Athena and those aboard in good health. Then, our common friends can root out whoever is behind this scheme.”
“Agreed. I’ve sent word to our outposts. If your quarry shows up on any human-settled world, they’ll let me know. But space is huge, ships are tiny.”
She nodded in agreement. “Unless we figure out the end game and determine the optimal intercept point. Where would human mercenaries take a luxury liner filled with high-priced hostages while their employers carry out the next stage of the operation? I’m guessing it won’t be deep inside the Zone, far from Commonwealth space.”
Forenza shook his head. “No, probably not.”
“Then where does that leave me?”
“At the mercy of the Colonial Office’s intelligence gathering network, I’m afraid. My people will do their best, but until something surfaces, there’s no point in your task force heading off in every direction. The number of star systems within easy reach of the Commonwealth is such that it could take you months to investigate. And that’s just the ones with planets suitable for our sort of life.”
“What about the captain of that ship? Can we convince him to cooperate?”
An amused chuckle escaped Forenza’s throat.
“Unless you plan on using the threat of violence as an incentive, the answer is no.”
“Can he be bought off?”
“And face an agonizing death when the rest of his organization catches up with him? Again, no. The only way you’ll find out anything is by designating him a pirate and doing what you’d normally do with such beings.”
A thoughtful expression crossed Dunmoore’s face. “How many aboard?”
“Forty-two. Confederacy traders like Vuko run with small crews. If you’re thinking of a cutting-out operation to seize it, may I remind you Kilia Station’s management also has a vote? This place survived the war by enforcing strict neutrality and allowing agents such as me and my counterparts on the imperial side, along with representatives of many sentient species, to conduct their business. That hasn’t changed in the intervening decade. A hostile act on your part will destroy what is a delicate balance and attract the ire of certain people in our government, even if you fire no weapons and cause no damage.”
“And a failed rescue attempt will earn me the ire of Secretary General Lauzier, Senator Chu, and Geraldo Amali, among many other powerful people. And generate lousy publicity for the Navy.”
Forenza inclined his head by way of acknowledgment.
“I understand, Captain. I’m merely ensuring you’re aware seizing a ship docked at Kilia Station without the permission of its management will entail repercussions that can resonate well after you complete your task.”
“Trust me, Mister Forenza, I know this. If you’ll recall, I already forced Enoc Tarrant — who, unless I’m mistaken, still runs Kilia — to give me what I wanted on one memorable occasion. Or rather, Ezekiel Holt did so on my behalf. However, this time, my task force isn’t a single ship surrounded by illusions but the real thing.”
“I do remember. It was a well-played ruse, but this time the circumstances are different. By the way, is Holt with you?”
“No. Zeke — Commodore Holt — is now a department head in the Counterintelligence Branch at Fleet HQ. His promotion came through a few weeks ago.”
A knowing smile tugged at Forenza’s lips.
“Then I think I can guess who’s behind my Service’s increased cooperation with the Navy to help you carry out this rescue mission. We’ve been chummy with your counterintelligence for a while.”
“So, where does that leave us?”
He shrugged again. “That’s entirely up to you, Captain. If it helps, Vuko is currently carrying narcotics of a type deemed illegal in the Commonwealth for transshipment to a human free trader whose arrival is imminent. It may not deflect the wrath of those who would cry for your head after you upset the delicate balance here, but as I understand matters, this may well be your last command before retirement.”
She gave him a bitter smile.
“There’s no may about it. I’m terminal at the rank of captain, and the Fleet doesn’t keep senior officers who are terminal around for long. It would rather we didn’t hog the finite number of billets available.”
Forenza nodded once. “Very well. Would you like the data we collected on Vuko and Kilia itself? So much has changed since your last visit.”
“Please.”
“Would you also enjoy a visit before taking action? Then, as consul, I can arrange a meeting with Enoc Tarrant, and you can see the changes for yourself.”
“You know I met with Tarrant under my Q ship captain alias, Shannon O’Donnell, before we sprung you from the internment camp. A man with his sharp wits will recognize me in an instant.”
Forenza let out a bark of amused laughter.
“Even better. There’s no finer way of unsettling a mind like his than proof you conned him successfully years ago. Let me arrange a parlay between Tarrant and the Commonwealth Navy task force commander who appeared on his doorstep unannounced and unwanted. If anyone on Kilia contacts you, ignore them until you and I speak again. And please don’t talk to Retak either.”
“You’re the resident expert. I shall do as you suggest.”
“Excellent. Give me an hour. In the meantime, I suggest you assume the highest orbit possible around Kilia and stay silent. We’ll do the talking. It should keep Tarrant’s people on edge.”
“Quiet and deadly. Got it.”
“Forenza, out.”