“Worse. I must update the Autarchs on the situation here. Give word to ready the Sensorium. I will Contact the Autarchs by Reification within the hour. Now leave me. There is much work to be done if these Aboriginals are not to get out of hand.”
Chapter Fifty-Six. APPROACHING ORBIT and SHANGRI LA SUBCONTINENT DELTA PAVONIS THREE
Commodore Steven Cameron, skipper of the Commonwealth cruiser Valiant, acting C-in-C for the Delta Pavonis system — and therefore, its glorified traffic control supervisor — frowned when his comm officer, Lieutenant Stephanie Souders, turned to him with a deep frown. She handed him the transponder code, tail number, and supplementary Commonwealth identifiers relayed by the incoming Wolfe-class corvette. He stared at the unfamiliar data strings. “What the hell is this? Or more to the point, who the hell is this?”
“I wish I could tell you, Skipper,” Souders replied with crossed arms. “Not on the list of craft that have entered Delta Pavonis. Ever.”
“Bloody hell,” Cameron muttered. And right at the end of his duty shift. Almost as if someone had planned it that way. Which gave him pause: was it possible that someone had planned it that way? Bollocks, I’m starting at shadows now. “Raise this, eh, UCS Puller, Lieutenant. Let’s hear their story.”
“Better be a good one,” Souders grumbled. “Line is open, sir.”
“UCS Puller, this is Commodore Steven Cameron, acting CINCPAV and captain of the UCS Valiant. Please confirm identity, and report mission and status.”
The flat screen brightened and revealed a vaguely familiar face sitting at the center of a patched-up bridge; Puller had evidently seen some action in the late war. “This is Commodore Caine Riordan, temporarily in command of UCS Puller on detached duty. Special operations. Relaying ops codes and authorizations now.”
Souders turned towards Cameron, eyebrows raised, and tilted her head at the supplementary screen where the new data and codes were scrolling in. Cameron put on his best poker face. “Commodore Riordan—” and then he knew why he recognized the face. “Commodore, are you the same Caine Riordan who presented at the Parthenon Dialogs last year?”
Riordan’s expression was a fusion of a smile and a grimace. “Guilty as charged.”
“A pleasure to meet you, si — Commodore. But your OpOrds are, well, most irregular. And incomplete.”
Riordan’s smile was amiable. “They sure are, Commodore Cameron. Wish I could share it all with you, but I can’t. Here’s the classification level for the redacted components of the op, and my own, er, non-Naval clearance level.” He nodded to someone off screen.
Souders’ frown deepened. “Commodore,” she muttered, “I don’t even recognize his code.”
“I do,” Cameron replied.
“What is it?”
“I was told that if I ever see this code and this classification level, I have one relevant directive: not to ask a damn thing about it. Run it through the black box; if it checks out, he’s got all the authority he needs to do whatever he wants.”
Souders waited for the secure cypher check to finish. “Comes back green, sir.”
Cameron nodded, glanced up at Riordan. “Sorry about the delay, Commodore. Protocols.”
Riordan’s smile was broad, easy. “I fully understand, Commodore. Do I have permission to initiate descent to the Shangri La subcontinent on DeePeeThree?”
“You do, but before you dip your nose into the cloud-tops, I wonder if you could give me a broad picture of what to expect?”
Riordan raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”
Cameron leaned back. “Commodore, you’re about to head dirtside to the same place where you made first contact. You might say, to the source of all the troubles we’ve had since then. And from what I understand of your last visit, the Colonial Development Combine was not particularly enamored of you when you left.”
Riordan’s smile became rueful. “You have a talent for understatement, Commodore Cameron.”
“So I’ve been told. What I’m asking is: should I be prepared for a firestorm on Shangri La or elsewhere?”
Riordan steepled his fingers. “That is an excellent question. I wish I had an excellent answer. Part of why we’re going in unannounced is because we don’t really know what we’re going to find. Sure, we get groundside reports, but those are from civilian observers who could be very, very bribable. That’s why the cloak-and-dagger approach, Commodore.”
“Which raises another question: just how did you get here at all? I’ve no record of Puller, or any Wolfe-class corvette, deploying here.”
“That’s because we were containerized for security purposes before shift, then were cut loose in our container shortly after we were carried in-system.”
“Carried in-system by what carrier, Commodore?”
Riordan smiled. “Wish I could tell you.”
“Does that mean you can’t or you won’t tell me?”
“Both, actually. As you can see, various elements of our full orders are classified, including our assignment to this detached duty. Fleet didn’t want any CoDevCo stooges inside our ranks to be able to pass along a warning that we’re about to show up to run a compliance check here. So everything pertaining to our reassignment and transport to this system was kept under wraps. But frankly, I couldn’t tell you who gave us the ride even if I was allowed to. Naval ops boxed us up, let us sit, and then some shift-carrier came and picked us up. It never identified itself. We were handled by an intelligence cell, not the skipper of the ship, and those folks didn’t share out any info. Once we got here, we were told to lay doggo until our secure mission clock ran down. That happened three days ago. And here we are.”
Cameron frowned. “That’s a lot of skullduggery for a visit to a corporate compound.”
“Sure is. On the other hand, site intel suggests CoDevCo may have resumed hunting down the locals — who are soon to be recategorized, definitively, as exosapients. And you know what that means.”
Cameron nodded. “Murder charges. Very well, Mr. — er, Commodore Riordan. Down you go, and we’ll keep a channel open. I imagine they might not take very kindly to your visit, and we’d be all too happy to lend a hand if you need it.”
“I just might, Commodore Cameron. Thanks, and we’ll keep you posted.”
The line closed. Souders frowned at the screen. “He’ll ‘keep us posted’ in a pig’s ass.” She looked ready to spit. “I think I believe just slightly less than half of everything he said, sir. And I don’t care who he is.”
“That’s as may be,” Cameron temporized, “but his clearance code and authorization string checks out as legit. You think those are false?”
Souders’ frown deepened. “No,” she admitted finally. “I just don’t like being lied to by people with big ranks and bigger clearance ratings.”
Then you’ve chosen the wrong line of work, Steph. “Keep that channel open, Lieutenant. I don’t think we’ve heard the last of Commodore Riordan on this matter.”
“Hell,” Souders sighed, “I suspect that was just the opening act.”
* * *
“It must feel strange, being back here.” Bannor Rulaine ran his targeting binoculars over the CoDevCo complex a kilometer away.
Riordan, waiting for word that Puller was in position, shrugged. “That’s not what’s on my mind right now.”
“No? Seeing the locals again, maybe?”