Conquerors' Pride

  Holloway cocked an eyebrow. "Interesting. Would you care to comment on that, Commander?"

  "I'm not sure what comment is necessary, Colonel," Quinn said evenly.

  "We could start with why Commander Masefield seems to think you're in charge of this mission instead of Bokamba," Holloway said.

  "I assume it was part of the private communication."

  "You assume? Don't you know?"

  "I really don't see what the problem is, Colonel," Melinda put in. "The whole idea of this was to confirm Quinn's orders, wasn't it?"

  "Except that we haven't confirmed his orders," Holloway told her. "We've confirmed Wing Commander Bokamba's orders. How that relates to any of you is still unexplained."

  "Then I suggest you ask Wing Commander Bokamba personally about it," Aric said. "Assuming, of course, he's willing to tell you."

  For the first time Holloway seemed taken aback. "Bokamba is here?"

  "He will be shortly," Aric said. "You heard Quinn tell Masefield that we were still waiting for someone, didn't you?"

  "Indeed," Holloway murmured, looking thoughtfully at each of them in turn. "Any idea when he'll arrive?"

  "Not really," Quinn said. "Soon, I hope."

  "I'm sure you do," Holloway said, stepping back to the car door. "All right, then. We'll await his arrival and see what he has to say. Until then, good day."

  He got into the car and closed the door behind him. The two Marines silently joined him, and the vehicle turned around and headed back across the field.

  Aric took a deep breath and looked over at Melinda. "What do you think?"

  "He's not fooled," she said. "Not a bit. He knows there's something off-key about all this. He just doesn't know what."

  "I agree," Quinn said. "And I'm afraid it forces our hand. The minute those Corvines get close enough, we're taking off."

  "What about Dad?" Melinda asked.

  "We can't afford to wait for him," Quinn shook his head. "Stopping to refit the fueler with that Carthage-Ivy computer has already thrown him off our original schedule. If the Mrachanis are slow about dredging up that Conquerors legend, it could be another six to twelve hours before he arrives. There's no guarantee another skitter from Edo or Earth won't get here first with an update on the authorization number."

  "It's worse than that, actually," Aric said. "Holloway's never going to believe a Copperhead wing commander will be coming into the system aboard a civilian yacht."

  "And, of course, as soon as they mesh in, Holloway will make contact and ask to speak to Bokamba," Quinn said grimly. "Teva will have no idea what he's talking about; and then we really will be in the soup."

  "I understand all that," Melinda said. "But as it stands now, you don't have any idea where to start looking."

  Quinn shrugged. "We'll just have to make do with the data from the original attack."

  Melinda sighed. "I don't like it," she said. "But I don't see any alternative. What do you want me to do?"

  Quinn looked up at the fueler. "You can start by telling Max to skip the sensor and nonessentials check and go directly to launch prep. Can he get the fueler up to orbit alone?"

  "He landed it alone," Melinda said. "I presume he won't have any trouble lifting."

  "All right," Quinn nodded. "Mr. Cavanagh and I will both go up in the Counterpunch, then. After that, the only other thing left for you to do will be to lie low until theCavatina gets here." His lip twitched. "Unless you want to see if you can distract Holloway for us while we lift."

  Melinda blinked. "Distract him?" she echoed. "How do you propose I do that?"

  "You'll think of something," Aric assured her. "Come on, Quinn, let's get started."

  "Got it, Colonel," Hobson called from across the room. "Bokamba, Iniko Ilom."

  Holloway stepped to his side and ran an eye over the record. Bokamba was a Copperhead reserve wing commander, all right, with a pretty impressive record to boot. Still listed as inactive, but with all the other activity going on at Peacekeeper bases, the records updates reaching Dorcas were falling further and further behind. "What about that cross-check with Quinn?" he asked Hobson. "You find anything?"

  "Yes, sir," the other said, pulling up a new record. "Turns out Quinn was in Bokamba's squadron for a little over a year. Just before he resigned his commission."

  And went on to become Lord Stewart Cavanagh's star witness at the Parliament hearings on the Copperheads. "Okay," Holloway said. "At least that part's legit. You find anything else?"

  "Actually, sir, I did." Hobson keyed his board again. "The system was a little quiet at the moment, so I went ahead and did a global cross-search. That McPhee fellow who came in right after Quinn? Turns out his flight plan originated from Granparra, which happens to be Bokamba's residence."

  "Mm." More proof, if Holloway had needed it, that McPhee was in with the Cavanaghs on this. "Thank you."

  "Just a second, sir," Hobson interrupted, lifting a finger. "I don't know if you were aware of this, Colonel, but McPhee got his ship refueled and prepped at Granparra at the Myrmidon Weapons Platform."

  "How do you figure that?"

  "It's right here." Hobson pointed at one of the multidigit numbers in McPhee's flight schedule. "This section here-the last five digits-are the service-classification code. It's very definitely a Peacekeeper base, and the only base in the Granparra system is the Myrmidon Platform."

  "Interesting," Holloway said, frowning at the number. "Has someone changed the rules on civilian use of Peacekeeper facilities?"

  "If they have, I haven't heard about it," Hobson said.

  Holloway shifted his gaze across the room. "Gasperi, has Major Takara checked back in yet?"

  "His team's just landed, sir," Gasperi called back. "He should be here in another minute or two."

  "Give him a call," Holloway ordered. "Tell him I want to see him and McPhee in my office."

  "Yes, sir," Gasperi said. "Oh, and Colonel?-Dr. Melinda Cavanagh's here to see you."

  Good; that saved them the trouble of going out and finding her. "Have Duggen and Spaulding escort her to my office," he told Gasperi. "Have them tell her I'll be there shortly."

  "Yes, sir."

  He stepped to a terminal and sat down, permitting himself a tight smile as he got to work. Finally-finally-he had the hook he'd been looking for since Melinda Cavanagh first dropped her private variety store into the middle of his base. NorCoord political hack or not, McPhee was now officially in violation of a whole raft of Peacekeeper regulations, with the proof right there in his flight record. Together with his obvious connections to Quinn and the Cavanaghs, that gave Holloway enough justification to lock the whole bunch of them up. At least long enough to sort out what was going on here.

  He chewed his lower lip, feeling the unpleasant tingle of acid swirling against the base of his esophagus. Somewhere deep inside him, he knew, he was still clinging to the hope that whatever they were up to was something minor. But with six top-line Corvine fighters now involved, that hope was becoming increasingly hard to hold on to. And with the possibility of a summary military trial and judgment looming ever more likely down the road...

  He shook his head firmly. His job was to uncover the truth, and let the ax fall wherever it fell. And that was what he was going to do.

  They were all waiting when he arrived at his office: Takara, McPhee, and Melinda Cavanagh, with Duggen and Spaulding flanking the door. "Good afternoon," Holloway said as he rounded the corner of his desk and sat down. "As I'm sure you're all aware, we're extremely busy here, so I'll get right to the point. Mr. McPhee, you've stated you're a forward man for a supply shipment which is supposed to be on its way to Dorcas. Who exactly is in charge of this shipment, and where is it coming from?"

  McPhee shrugged. "I'm working under the auspices of the NorCoord Parliament. I thought you knew that."

  "Yes, I did," Holloway said, gazing at the other's stony expression and wishing he'd been able to get here before the two groups arrived. In the first sur
prise at being brought face-to-face with Dr. Cavanagh, McPhee's expression might have been interesting to observe. "But so far all you've given us have been vague generalities. Let's hear some specifics. Who and from where?"

  McPhee's face hardened a little more. "I don't care much for your tone, Colonel," he said.

  "I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. McPhee," Holloway countered."I don't care much for civilians who illegally use facilities at a Peacekeeper weapons platform."

  "Weapons platform?" Takara asked. "Where did he do that?"

  "At Granparra," Holloway told him, watching McPhee closely. If the other was worried, he wasn't showing it. "He got his ship refueled and serviced at the Myrmidon Platform. I just found out myself a few minutes ago."

  "What makes you think it was done illegally?" McPhee asked.

  "You're a civilian," Holloway said. "On civilian business." He held up the card he'd just finished compiling. "I have a list of the regulations here. They're very clear on such matters."

  "There are exceptions."

  Holloway leaned back in his chair. "I'm listening," he invited.

  McPhee dropped his gaze, and Holloway caught his surreptitious glance to where Melinda Cavanagh was sitting quietly taking it all in. His lip twitched once; and when he raised his eyes again, they were unexpectedly burning with an icy anger. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Colonel," he said. "But as it happens, I have full and total authority to requisition any Peacekeeper facilities, equipment, or personnel I want. Up to and including you and your garrison."

  "Impressive words," Holloway said, an odd feeling starting to tingle against the back of his neck. "You have any substance to go along with them?"

  "I think this will suffice," McPhee said, pulling a card from his pocket. "Even for you." With careless accuracy he flipped it through the air to land in the middle of Holloway's desk. "You're welcome to check it, of course."

  Holloway picked up the card. "A NorCoord Parliament carte blanche," he commented, trying to keep his voice casual. So Melinda Cavanagh's story had been true all along. These people really were involved in some top-secret under-the-counter operation.

  And if this Parlimin Jacy VanDiver-or Admiral Rudzinski himself-chose to be upset that an overzealous lieutenant colonel on a minor-colony world had stuck his nose into the matter...

  He pursed his lips. No. First things first. "Thank you, Mr. McPhee," he said. "I believe we'll do that." He glanced at his desk, at the spot where his terminal had been before being moved out to Site A an hour ago. "Fuji, get out to the sensor center and check this out," he said, holding the carte blanche out to Takara. "You know how to do it?"

  "Yes, sir," Takara said, suddenly sounding crisp and formal as he bounded from his chair and took the card. "I confirm the overall form and style of the text, then locate and compare the confirmation encoding that'll have been buried in the standard data file updates within forty-eight hours of issuance."

  "Right," Holloway said. "Make sure no one looks over your shoulder while you're doing it."

  "Yes, sir," Takara said, and headed out at a brisk walk.

  Holloway watched him go, noticing that Duggen and Spaulding had suddenly become Peacekeeper recruits again, standing with a parade-ground stiffness that was usually dispensed with in the garrison's more informal surroundings. Apparently, even a distant whiff of that carte blanche was potent stuff. "At ease, gentlemen," he suggested. "We're not passing in review."

  The Marines shifted into at-ease position, Spaulding reddening slightly as they did so. "An intriguing situation, Mr. McPhee," Holloway said, turning back to the other. "It's rare to see a parliamentary carte blanche these days."

  "Save your breath, Colonel," McPhee advised coldly. "And your excuses, before you bother making any. Whatever fallout comes from this, it's going to land squarely in your face."

  Holloway locked eyes with him. "If I were you, Mr. McPhee," he said quietly, "I wouldn't be too quick to start shoveling blame. People who suddenly appear in a war zone with absurd cover stories shouldn't be surprised when they attract official scrutiny. Whatever this imagined fallout of yours might be-"

  "Imaginedfallout?" McPhee cut him off. "You know, that's just the sort of asinine statement that shows you really haven't the faintest idea what's going on here."

  "I'm acutely aware of that," Holloway countered, trying hard to hold on to his temper. He could put up with politicians who fumbled around in military circles without a clue what they were doing. Politicians who insisted on frosting their ignorance with arrogance drove him nearly homicidal. "I trustyou are aware that if you'd presented your credentials at the outset, my officers and I would have made every attempt to cooperate with you."

  "Oh, certainly," McPhee shot back. "Present my credentials, and have the whole garrison buzzing with rumors. That would certainly have been helpful."

  Holloway took a careful breath, putting all his strength into not saying what he so badly wanted to say. To suggest that his men had nothing better to do than sit around discussing what some hotshot data-pusher from Earth might be up to... "If you don't mind," he said, "I think we'll put the rest of this conversation on hold until Major Takara has finished his examination of your credentials. I'm sure Parlimin VanDiver would prefer we handle things by the book."

  McPhee didn't answer, but the look on his face promised that he would remember this when the time came for reprimands. Sitting in the middle of a war zone, Holloway found it difficult to care.

  The awkward silence seemed much longer than the few minutes it actually took Takara to return. "It's genuine, sir," he told Holloway, handing the carte blanche back across the desk. "There are five separate confirmations; all five checked out."

  "Thank you," Holloway said, resisting the temptation to flip the card back across to McPhee the way the other had thrown it to him. "All right, Mr. McPhee, you are who you say. Now, what exactly is it you want from us?"

  "What Iwanted was for you to stick to your own work and leave me alone," the other said stiffly. "But since you've now effectively shredded my mission, I'll just have to settle for your confiscating that Counterpunch and fueler out there."

  Holloway threw a glance at Melinda Cavanagh, sitting there quietly, her face unreadable. "I don't understand."

  "What part didn't I make clear?" McPhee asked sardonically. "The part about confiscation, or the specific ships involved?"

  Takara half rose from his seat. "Colonel-"

  Holloway waved him back down. "Just a minute, Major."

  "Colonel, this is important-"

  "You heard the Colonel," McPhee snapped, throwing him a glare. "Shut up." He swiveled the glare onto Holloway. "I was ordered by Parlimin Jacy VanDiver to look into allegations that the Cavanagh family was conspiring to commit illegal activities. I'd originally hoped to ferret out what specifically they were up to, but thanks to your meddling that chance is gone. Still, illegal possession of Peacekeeper property ought to be enough to put the whole bunch of them under arrest."

  "It's not Peacekeeper property," Melinda Cavanagh spoke up, her first words since the meeting had began. "Both ships and all the supplies are privately owned."

  "What about the Corvines on their way in?" Holloway asked her.

  "Corvines?"McPhee demanded. "Where? How many?"

  "Colonel, they're gone," Takara called, clearly determined this time to make himself heard. "Both of them."

  "Both?" Holloway frowned. "I thought there were six of them."

  "Not the Corvines," Takara gritted. "Cavanagh and Quinn and their ships. They lifted while I was checking Mr. McPhee's credentials."

  For a heartbeat McPhee just sat there, his mouth half-open. "What?" he breathed.

  And then, abruptly, he bounded from his chair. "What?" he all but screamed. "What blithering-?" He jabbed a finger at Holloway. "Get them back.Now. "

  Holloway had already keyed his comm. "Gasperi, what's the status on that Counterpunch and fueler that just lifted?"

  "Lift was clean, Colonel," Gaspe
ri said, his gaze flicking across the status board outside the range of Holloway's display. "No problems."

  "Are you in contact with them?"

  "No, sir, they've already cleared the horizon. Should be back in range in about an hour."

  "What about the Corvines?" McPhee demanded at Holloway's side. "Can you raise them?"

  "No, they're also out of sight line," Gasperi said, frowning uncertainly at McPhee. "Colonel, Major Takara okayed the lift."

  "Yes, I know," Holloway assured him, thinking hard. "What about the incoming skitter? Is it in sight line with either the Corvines or the Counterpunch?"

  "Not sight line, no," Gasperi said. "Might have enough diffraction bend to get a signal to them, though."