Shadow of Freedom

Its display showed a position icon to indicate their own location here in the docking bay, but that was about its only resemblance to the standard electronic deck guide he’d expected to see. A standard guide would have shown them where they were and highlighted a route to their intended destination. The purely schematic layout would have told them when and where to turn, what lifts they needed to take, and what decks they needed to cross to get to Victor Seven. Of course, Lieutenant MacGeechan would have been a better—and, under the circumstances, a more reassuring guide—and it wouldn’t have shown any details aside from their direct route, but it would have sufficed.

What Abigail Hearns actually held, however, was a damage control guide from Shona Station’s engineering department. True, it would guide them to Victor Seven. But it was intended to get emergency repair crews anywhere they had to go under any conditions. Instead of showing a simple, highlighted route to Victor Seven, it showed engineering access ways, ventilation conduits, plumbing, blast doors, emergency bypass routes, circuitry runs…and the exact location of the gendarmerie brig in which the Manticoran spacers were confined.

“Pity there wasn’t time for them to get you a standard deck guide, My Lady,” Abigail’s personal armsman continued. “I guess we’ll just have to make do with what we’ve got.”

* * *

“Well, what do you think of Abigail’s brainstorm?” Namoi Kaplin asked Alvin Tallman, and her XO laughed. There wasn’t a lot of humor in that laugh. In fact, Kaplan could hear the echo of her own bared fangs.

“I like it, Skipper,” Tallman replied over her earbug from his station in AuxCon. “There’s a reason she decided to strike for the tactical track.”

“Agreed.” Kaplan nodded, but then her expression turned serious. “On the other hand, I think she’s right about us owing MacNaughtan a little cover.”

“I agree. Not that I think he’s doing it just out of the goodness of his heart, you understand, Ma’am. Looks to me like these Saltashans have a few bones of their own to pick with the Sollies.”

“Who doesn’t?” Kaplan asked bleakly.

“Only people who’ve never met them,” Tallam replied. “Returning to the matter in hand, though, how’s O’Reilly doing on providing that cover?”

“Well,” Kaplan’s lips quirked as she glanced across at her com officer, “I think she’s a little pissed the suggestion came from Abigail, but she grabbed it and ran with it, anyway. Interesting how those damage control guides tie into the emergency communication nets, isn’t it? And how easy it is to invade the system when you’re already inside it?” Her smile grew much nastier. “Trust me, Wanda’s making sure her tracks are going to be easy to find. By the time anyone starts looking, it’s going to be obvious we managed to hack their info systems from the outside—more of that ‘preposterous’ Manty hardware for them to worry about, I suppose—to get our hands on those schematics.”

* * *

Captain Jørn Kristoffersen, CO, Able Company, 10347th Independent Battalion, Solarian Gendarmerie, was an unhappy man.

As a general rule, he enjoyed his slot as the 10347th senior company commander. True, Saltash was on the backside of nowhere, and it was somewhat lacking in the more sophisticated forms of entertainment he preferred. It was still immensely better off than some of the Verge hellholes he’d been assigned to in the past, however, and as long as a man was careful, there were plenty of opportunities for him to enjoy himself. Better still, Major Pole understood the traditional Verge fringe benefits when it came to R&R, and things had improved noticeably since Dueñas had replaced the previous governor and reminded the locals who was really in charge. Kristoffersen wasn’t about to go wandering around in uniform without three or four other gendarmes to watch his back, of course—no telling what some of the local yokels might do if they caught a gendarme all on his own—but that was par for the course anywhere in the Verge.

The present situation, however, was not par for the course, and even as he stepped on his anger, he tried to convince himself that something besides fear gave that anger so much strength.

Fucking bastards, he thought resentfully, glowering at the lift shafts and acutely conscious of the long, empty corridor stretching away behind him. Too damned uppity, that’s what they are! We need to be smacking them down, showing them why they don’t want to try to pull this kind of shit with us!