Shadow of Freedom-eARC (28 page)

Unfortunately, Vice Admiral Dubroskaya’s effort in that direction seemed not to have worked out very well. So now
he
was the one left holding the shit-end of the stick, although why it had to be a
commissioned
officer out here wasn’t quite clear to him. If he’d had the option, he would have delegated it right on down the chain of command, but the order had been too specific to work around and pass it on to someone else. Besides, if these fanatics were really likely to push it, his neck probably wouldn’t be any safer elsewhere, in the end.

Maybe the Major’s right, though. I sure
hope
to hell he is, anyway! And—

His thoughts broke off as the lift shaft door opened and an extraordinarily broad lieutenant in an armored skinsuit stepped out of it. A flechette gun which looked almost like a toy in his massive grip pointed unthreateningly at the deck, but the dark eyes behind his helmet’s armorplast bubble didn’t look especially friendly.

Another Manticoran followed him, and Kristoffersen was careful to keep his hand away from the holstered pulser at his side as another dozen Manties spread out from the lift, behind the first two. No one blustered or threatened, but they were all well armed, and they spread out smoothly to establish a perimeter around the lift banks. One of them said something into his helmet microphone, and a moment later the second set of lift doors opened to admit another dozen Manties who fanned out just as quickly and efficiently as they had. In less than three minutes, the boarders had set up an all-round defensive position, and no one seemed to have the least interest in Kristoffersen. They were too busy keeping their eyes—and attention—on their zones of responsibility, and his heart sank at the evidence of their obviously well trained competence.

“I’m Lieutenant Abigail Hearns,” the second Manty out of the first lift car said over her skinsuit’s external speaker. “And you are?”

Her brisk voice wasn’t overtly threatening, but it
was
that of someone who clearly had better things to waste time on than deference to Solarian self-importance. Kristoffersen felt a quick, fresh flash of anger at that almost unconscious dismissal, but he warned himself to tamp it down.

“Captain Jørn Kristoffersen, Solarian Gendarmerie,” he replied curtly.

“Well, Captain Kristoffersen, I assume you’re aware of the reason for our visit. Captain Zavala’s instructed me to present his compliments to the senior Gendarmerie officer and request the immediate repatriation of the Manticoran civilians illegally detained here aboard Shona Station.”

“I’m afraid the personnel to whom you refer are in a legally declared state of medical quarantine, ordered by System Governor Dueñas on the advice of his medical staff,” Kristoffersen replied. “Major Pole regrets to inform Captain Zavala that without specific instructions from the Governor terminating the quarantine, it’s impossible for him to release any of the personnel covered by it.”

He knew the response had come out sounding stilted and rehearsed, but he didn’t really care. Which wasn’t to say he felt especially cheerful about finding himself all alone in a compartment with the better part of two dozen armed Manties while he delivered it.

Make that
three
dozen
, he amended sourly as the first lift car opened again with a second load of boarders.

“That’s unacceptable, Captain.” For someone with such a naturally pleasant contralto voice, Lieutenant Hearns could sound remarkably icy, Kristoffersen noted. “I think Major Pole had better reconsider his position.”

“Major Pole will take your advice under consideration, Lieutenant. I’m sure he’ll give it all the weight to which it’s entitled.”

Kristoffersen smiled unpleasantly as he delivered that sentence. Despite the anxiety percolating through his system it felt good to put this neobarb in her place, but—

“That wasn’t ‘advice,’ Captain,” Hearns replied. “It was a warning.”

“A warning, Lieutenant?” A sharper edge of anger crackled in Kristoffersen’s tone as the Manty’s insolence registered.

“Neither Captain Zavala nor I are prepared to put up with any more Solarian obstruction, Captain Kristoffersen.” Blue-gray eyes bored into him from the other side of her helmet’s armorplast. “Personally, I think Governor Dueñas has already managed to get enough people killed for one day. I’d hope Major Pole isn’t prepared to add to the total.”

“Are you threatening the Solarian Gendarmerie?” Kristoffersen demanded, and his face darkened with anger as Hearns rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“Captain, we just blew four Solarian Navy
battlecruisers
out of space,” she said with the patience of someone addressing a particularly slow-witted child. “In case you can’t do the math, there were over two thousand SLN personnel several hundred real honest-to-gosh Marines aboard each of them, and I’ll be surprised if half of them survived. Precisely what part of that suggests that we should be frightened of
gendarmes
?”

Kristoffersen’s face went from dark with anger to pale with fury under the lash of her scathing contempt and his hand twitched towards his pulser. It was only a tiny movement—an instinctive twitch, no more—but the muzzle of the flechette gun which had led the way out of the lift rose from the deck to about knee level, and he froze instantly. The thought of having both legs amputated by a single squeeze of the flechette gun’s trigger was not an appealing one.

“I’d advise you to
start
being afraid of the Gendarmerie, Lieutenant,” he bit out instead, trying to keep his eyes on her face and away from that muzzle. “However full of yourselves you may feel right this instant, the League’s not going to be amused by what you people have already done here. Compounding it by threatening or attacking Solarian Gendarmes is only going to make things worse.”

“You need to work up a better grade of threat, Captain Kristoffersen,” Hearns replied. “Get a little more sneer into your delivery…maybe grow a mustache so you can twirl it properly…I don’t know,
something
. In the meantime, however, I think you should understand that we’re not especially impressed by the Gendarmerie, or the Solarian League, or Major Pole—or
you
—and save us all some trouble. We’re here for our nationals who have been illegally detained in this star system; we’re going to take them with us when we leave; and we’re going to do whatever it takes to accomplish that objective. I’d advise you to inform Major Pole that we don’t care about his ‘medical quarantine’ any more than we care about Governor Dueñas’ threats. If he isn’t prepared to release our people to us immediately, we can—and will—reclaim them by force. And just to be perfectly clear for the official record, ‘by force’ most definitely does include the use of
lethal
force.”

“You think you can just come aboard this station and
threaten
Solarians? Just who the hell do you people think you
are?!
”

“People who’re sick and tired of Solarians who think they can do anything they want to anyone they want to do it to and never get called to account,” Hearns replied coldly. “Of course, that’s only my personal view. I think it’ll probably do to be going on with, though. Now, are you going to pass my message to Major Pole? Or should I assume the time to begin reclaiming our people by force has already arrived?”

Kristoffersen was rigid with rage, but he was also acutely aware of his isolation. He wished now that he’d argued in favor of bringing at least a squad of his own people along, yet underneath the surface of that wish he suspected it was just as well he hadn’t. By now, this lunatic’s attitude would have pushed at least one of his troopers into a violent response and they’d already be knee-deep in bodies…including, quite probably, his own.

“I’ll pass your ‘message’ along, Lieutenant,” he grated. “I can already tell you what the answer will be, though.”

“Really?” Hearns said, regarding him coldly.

“Oh, yes.” He showed her his teeth. “‘Fuck off’ probably sums it up pretty well. In more official language, you understand.”

The Manty with the flechette gun tilted his head. His expression never even flickered, but Kristoffersen felt a sudden cold stab of terror as something stirred like Leviathan down in the hearts of those dark eyes. Hearns only reached out and touched her subordinate on the shoulder.

“Solarian command of Standard English never ceases to amaze and impress me,” she said, never looking away from Kristoffersen. “All of you bring such eloquence and poetry to our common tongue. Assuming, however, that you’ve captured the gist of Major Pole’s response accurately, I suppose we’ll simply have to come and get our people.”

“And just how do you propose to do that?” Kristoffersen snapped. “You may have a damned
fleet
sitting out there, for all I know. But
you
aren’t out there, and neither are the assholes sitting in the brig. You’re inside, with
us
, Lieutenant, and you really don’t want to fuck with the Gendarmerie on our own ground. Not unless you’ve got a hell of a lot more powered armor and heavy weapons than
I
see! You want to try fighting your way into this section, you go right ahead, because there’re going to be a hell of a lot of dead Manties before you get into it! And it sure would be a pity if the brig should be accidentally depressurized as a consequence of
your
decision to attack the Gendarmerie for refusing to release legally quarantined personnel.”

His eyes glittered as he delivered the none-too-veiled threat, and Hearns’ expression turned colder than ever.

“Why am I not surprised?” She shook her head. “Let me explain something to you, Captain. It already occurred to us that you noble and courageous gendarmes might threaten to kill our civilians. I mean, we
are
talking about the Solarian Gendarmerie, those champions of truth, justice, and the Solarian way. Tester knows you’ve shown the rest of us poor, benighted neobarbs the high road to civilization often enough! Trust me, we’ve all been deeply impressed by your intervention battalions’ willingness to terrorize anyone who gets in your way…as long as they’re not in a position to shoot back.” Her cold contempt sent a boil of pure fury sweeping through Kristoffersen, but she only continued in that same scornful tone. “We, however,
are
in a position to shoot back, and if any of the civilian spacers in your custody are harmed in any way, we will hold you—meaning, in case you were wondering, you personally, Major Pole, and all of your personnel collectively—responsible for it. And for your information, the illegal detention of our civilians constitutes kidnapping and unlawful constraint under interstellar law. Which can be—and will be—construed as an act of piracy. And pirates, as you may be aware, are liable to summary execution.”

Kristoffersen stared at her in sheer disbelief.

“So now you’re threatening to try us as
pirates?
” he demanded.

“No, Captain. We’re warning you that if any of our people are harmed, we’ll
execute
you as pirates,” she said flatly.

Despite himself, her level tone sent an icicle through Jorn Kristoffersen. No one had ever threatened to
execute
Solarian Gendarmes! But as he looked into those cold, blue eyes and heard the unflinching certitude in that voice, he felt a terrifying suspicion that she meant it.

“Captain, I think you’d better go tell Major Pole what the situation is before you dig this hole any deeper for all of you,” Hearns told him with a curled lip. “Inform him that he has fifteen minutes to agree to release our personnel. After that time, we’ll come get them. And be sure you tell him what will happen if any of our people are hurt along the way. I wouldn’t want him to wonder why he’s being kicked out an airlock without a skinsuit.”

She turned her back without another word, and the Manty with the flechette gun twitched his head in the direction of the corridor to Victor Seven. Kristoffersen felt himself hovering on the brink of saying something else—or possibly of physically attacking Hearns, as suicidal as that would undoubtedly be. But sanity overpowered fury, and he turned and stalked down the corridor.

* * *

“Tell me, My Lady,” Mateo Gutierrez said over his private link as the Solarian stormed away, “do you think there was anything
less
diplomatic you could’ve said to him?”

“I certainly hope not,” Abigail replied. She turned her head, glancing back over her shoulder as Kristoffersen disappeared down the corridor, then returned her attention to Gutierrez. “I tried not to miss any of his buttons, anyway.”

“Oh, I’d say you got most of them,” Gutierrez said judiciously. “I thought twice he was going to go ahead and go for his gun, anyway.”

“In which case he’d be dead…and the universe would be a better place.”

Gutierrez twitched as he heard the cold, bitter, genuine loathing in her voice. Hatred was alien to Abigail Hearns, as he knew far better than most, but she
was
a Grayson. Graysons met the Test in their own lives. They did their jobs, and they honored their responsibilities, and a thousand years surviving on the planet which tried to kill them every single day gave them a sort of implacability which could be frightening to behold. It wasn’t like the fanaticism of the Faithful on their more hospitable and welcoming planet of exile, but it was something a San Martino like Gutierrez—or perhaps a Gryphon Highlander—could understand. Whether even they could have
matched
it was another question, of course, but Mateo Gutierrez had realized long ago why the mountain clansman in his own genes had responded so powerfully to the Grayson granite inside Abigail Hearns and her people.

“Well,” he went on in that same judicious tone, letting none of that moment of awareness show in voice or expression, “I’d say that if the object was to piss them off, you’ve probably succeeded.”

“Good,” Abigail said coldly. But then she gave herself a little shake and smiled at him.

“Good,” she repeated more naturally. “Because that means they’ll be looking
our
way, doesn’t it? And that being the case, perhaps you’d be good enough to organize the troops, Lieutenant Gutierrez?”