Stand Against The Storm (The Maxwell Saga Book 4) (3 page)

“Yes, we have a dozen or so. I’ll ask for them to be sent down in the first load.” Steve thought for a moment. “This compound you’ve allocated to the Engineers – how far away is it?”

“Carsamba’s about four kilometers from here, Sir.”

“Ferrying cargoes from here to there with only a dozen transports will be very slow work. Where will you put the cargoes while they wait for transporter space?”

The young man grimaced again. “They’ll have to be piled at the edge of the hardstand, Sir.”

“That won’t protect them from wind and weather. What about a warehouse?”

“None available, Sir.”

“Guards? How will you stop pilferage?”

“We can’t, Sir. I have only a single platoon of Marines here, and they’ll be gone as soon as the Colonial Guard can send its own people to take over. That’ll be in a couple of days, I hope. I don’t have enough people to guard your stores.”

Steve sighed. “I can see this is going to be a holocaust of efficiency. Is there level ground near the depot where a cargo shuttle can land?”

The Lieutenant pointed dubiously at a hulking ten-thousand-ton-capacity shuttle nearby. “One of
those,
Sir?”

“Similar to that, yes.”

“I… I honestly don’t know, Sir. There’s open space all around the compound at Carsamba, but I don’t know whether the ground will take the weight of one of those things.”

“They’re built with reinforced triple keels, spaced out so they can land on them if the ground’s too soft for their wheels. If necessary we can land the transporters here, then use them to lay a makeshift hardstand of gravel or whatever’s available at the depot. Can you spare a set of wheels for myself and my Marine escort, so I can inspect the terrain?”

“We’ll make a plan, Sir. This way, please.”

“Thank you.” Steve turned back and called to the cutter pilot, “Thanks again, PO. Take her back to the ship. Please tell the Executive Officer I’ll call as soon as I can to let him know what I’ve found, and ask him to send all the transporters in the first load.”

“Aye aye, Sir.”

Sergeant Dubois and Corporal Huggess clumped down the ramp, the engineers’ heavy powered armor making them look like mechanical monsters. The Sergeant said, “I’ve got your pack here, Sir.”

“Thanks, Sergeant.”

As they walked across the hardstand, Steve looked at the bustling activity all around him. “Are those the prisoner working parties we heard about?” he asked, indicating several gangs of men wearing gray utilities with three broad black stripes across the back and chest.

“Yes, Sir,” McNair replied. “We’ve got about a dozen groups of them here. They can’t operate the automated cargo-handling equipment, but we have a few Engineers helping us with that. The convicts provide muscle to supplement the machines.”

“How reliable are they? I’ve been told we’re going to have a group of them out at the Engineer depot, and I’m concerned about theft and general security.”

The junior officer grimaced. “We’ve had some problems with petty theft, Sir. Yesterday one of the groups broke into a warehouse and drank themselves senseless on industrial alcohol. Four died, and the rest are probably wishing the same thing would happen to them at once, if not sooner.”

Corporal Huggess sniggered. “I bet the survivors won’t forget
that
hangover in a hurry, Sir!”

“I suppose not,” Steve agreed absently. “What’s that building next to the entrance, Lieutenant? It looks like a prison in miniature.”

“It is, Sir. It’s a transit prison for inmates being shipped from one part of the planet to another. Eskishi used to be mostly a prison planet until a couple of decades ago, and Karabak still sends its long-term convicts into permanent exile here. They’re never allowed to leave, even after they’ve served their sentences. A new group was put in there this morning. A
chargé d’affaires
from their home planet is with them now – he arrived a few minutes before you did. He apparently arranged for them to be evacuated here.”

Steve frowned as they drew nearer to the prison. “Isn’t it unusual for a diplomat to be so involved in looking after the interests of convicts?”

“I’ve never heard of it either, Sir, but I guess the Qianjin
chargé
sees it differently.”

Steve stopped dead in his tracks.
“What
planet did you say?”

“Er… Qianjin, Sir. Is something wrong?” The Lieutenant looked startled.

“N – no, nothing’s wrong. It’s just that I’ve heard of that planet before.”

Steve’s mind was whirling as he started walking again.
Qianjin’s the Dragon Tong’s home planet – at least, that’s what merchant spacer scuttlebutt says. If its
chargé
is looking after whoever’s in that prison, that means they’re probably Dragon Tong too, and not just low-level members either. They’d have to be pretty senior to warrant that sort of attention. How the hell did they end up in a galactic backwater like this?

“There’s the
chargé
now,” McNair observed, indicating a man in a gray civilian suit exiting the front door of the prison. “I saw him as he entered the spaceport.”

“I see. Lieutenant, please show these Marines which vehicle we’ll be using, and ask the driver to wait outside the transit prison for me. I want to have a word with the
chargé.
”

“Sure, Sir. I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Probably. Thanks for your help.”

The diplomat reached his car door, then noticed Steve approaching. He turned towards him, face bearing a polite look of inquiry. He was a short man of unassuming mien. The skin of his face and hands was lighter than the average Caucasian of Steve’s experience, and his eyes showed evidence of a vestigial epicanthic fold. His black hair was carefully combed to hide the beginnings of a bald patch over the crown of his head.

“Good morning, Sir,” Steve said as he stopped in front of him. “I’m Senior Lieutenant Steve Maxwell of the Lancastrian Commonwealth Fleet. I understand you’re the
chargé d’affaires
for Qianjin?”

“I am,” the other agreed. He offered his hand. “I’m Jiang Gang-Heng.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Jiang.” Steve shook his hand. “My ship’s delivering a shipment of engineering equipment and relief supplies. I was surprised to hear that Qianjin has a
chargé
here.”

“Why surprised, Lieutenant? We have diplomatic representatives on many planets.”

“Yes, but… let’s just say I’m familiar with Qianjin from another perspective. If we were aboard my ship, I could show you a token I was given on the planet Vesta some years ago. It’s a white jade disk with a stylized dragon on one side and a Mandarin character and a number on the other, both inlaid in silver.”

Jiang stiffened, all expression disappearing from his face. “I see. May I ask the meaning of the character, and the number?”

“The character represents the Deputy Mountain Master of that planet. The number is four.”

“Even in the absence of the disk, I can check those details against our records, you understand? A white jade disk is seldom encountered, but their bearers are important to us, so we make sure that all our representatives have enough information to verify any tokens they come across.”

Bingo!
Steve thought gleefully.
If I ever needed proof that Qianjin’s the Tong’s planet, I just got it!
“I’d be grateful if you would, please. If you’re satisfied with what you learn, we can talk at greater length. You’ll find me at Carsamba, where I’ll be setting up a supply depot for our engineers.”

Jiang smiled at last. “Your willingness to have me verify the details argues that you’re probably genuine. Thank you very much for approaching me. This might open… interesting possibilities.”

“I hope it does. May I ask why you’re here? Are the prisoners in there of interest to Qianjin?” He dared not ask a more direct question than that.

Jiang nodded. “It’s traditional for the children of… influential persons… to earn the right to positions of their own, rather than simply be given them as a consequence of birth. The oldest son of… let’s say, a very senior official… was serving as the commanding officer of a salvage and recovery vessel. It was sent to assist one of our freighters in the Sulawasa system, but was arrested by local authorities. They condemned it and our freighter for piracy and smuggling. The freighter’s cargo was… especially valuable.”

“I see.” Steve knew the Dragon Tong operated merchant freight lines across the settled galaxy. Apart from their legitimate business, its ships were reputed to transport any particularly valuable proceeds of crime from planet to planet, to be disposed of hundreds of light years from where they were stolen before any alert could be issued for them. He assumed that the freighter in this case had been carrying such a cargo. Corrupt local officials on a minor planet might be very tempted to keep it for themselves if they learned of its existence.

“How did your people end up here?” he asked curiously.

“The crews of both ships were sentenced to life imprisonment. We didn’t learn of their situation until after the trial was over, because they weren’t permitted to communicate off-planet and we have no representatives on Sulawasa. The only reason our freighter went there at all was that when technical difficulties arose, it was the closest settled planet. We tried to appeal their convictions and sentences, but local officials wouldn’t listen to reason. They even refused to allow us access to our people. We only recently learned that in terms of an agreement Sulawasa has with Karabak to house its long-term convicts, they’d all been exiled to Eskishi. I was sent here to assist them four months ago, shortly before the rebellion broke out.”

“I hope they didn’t come to any harm during the fighting?”

“I’m afraid they did. They’re not well regarded by other prisoners, because they stick together as a group and retain their internal cohesion. They won’t join or ally with other groups or gangs. As a result they were targeted during the uprising.” He rubbed finger and thumb together. “It took a lot of… persuasion… before the Colonial Guard would agree to divert troops to rescue them. By the time help arrived, they’d lost almost a third of their number killed and injured. The wounded have been stabilized, and all the survivors are now in the transit prison pending the availability of better accommodation. Of course, in the present chaos that may take some time to arrange.”

“I’m sorry to hear of their losses. I presume there’s no way you can get them returned to Qianjin?”

“Believe me, I’ve tried! The only way to free them is to have their sentences overturned by Sulawasa, but it’s been unwilling to listen to reason – at least, so far.” He smiled unpleasantly. “I understand very few merchant freighters are now willing to call there, and due to threats to trade in the region, insurance rates on cargoes to and from the planet have increased fivefold. One would have thought the authorities on Sulawasa would have reconsidered their position by now, but so far they’ve merely become more adamant.”

“How very silly of them,” Steve observed drily. “The cargo your freighter was carrying must have been very valuable if they’re still refusing to negotiate.”

“It was, but one doubts whether it was worth nearly as much as their entire interplanetary trade and space-based economy. One way or another, they’re likely to learn that the hard way.”

Steve grinned inwardly to himself. The administration of a backwater planet like Sulawasa couldn’t have made a worse enemy than the Dragon Tong if it had deliberately set out to look for one. If they hadn’t already realized that, they would undoubtedly do so very shortly.

“I’m glad your people are safe now,” he said. “It’s been nice meeting you, Mr. Jiang. I’ll look forward to hearing from you once you’ve verified the information I gave you.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I’ll be in touch.”

Steve turned away to look for his transport. Inwardly he was glowing with satisfaction. He’d been temporarily thwarted in his attempt to hand over the jade knife on Cassius, but this encounter might offer him an equally good opportunity to do so. The sooner he could get rid of it, the better, as far as he was concerned. It had been a burden on him for far too long.

Steve coughed as a billow of dust from the latest load of rubble wafted across the rapidly expanding hardstand on the early morning breeze. Through the murk he heard the growl of a bulldozer’s power pack as it began to spread the newly-deposited heap over the ground, breaking it up in the process, drowning the more distant sound of a roller crushing down the fragments into a relatively smooth surface. The dump truck whined away, to be replaced by another bearing more of the diminishing mountain of building debris outside the walls of Carsamba – all that remained of many of its buildings. Mentally Steve blessed the first party of engineers who’d piled it up there. It was providing the raw material he needed to build a landing area for cargo shuttles outside the compound wall. His Marines had ‘borrowed’ heavy equipment from the spaceport to get the job done in a hurry. Steve hadn’t dared ask questions about the propriety of the process. He’d decided to turn a blandly Nelsonian blind eye to any breaches of regulations that might have occurred.

He walked back through the gates, narrowly avoiding a heavily-laden transporter as it turned into the compound. It was carrying a container from LCS
Cybele
. The first two cargo shuttles had unloaded at the spaceport yesterday, bringing down the transporters and initial supplies for the Engineers to establish their depot and sleeping quarters. Steve had halted further shipments until he could get the local hardstand operational.

The driver pulled to a halt beside him and leaned out of the cab’s window. “Sir, your ship’s Executive Officer and Major Emory are on their way here from the spaceport.”

Steve swore inwardly. Pressure from above was all he needed right now! However, he couldn’t say that aloud. He settled for, “Thanks for the heads-up.”

“Anytime, Sir.”

As the transporter accelerated towards a beckoning Marine who directed it to an offloading area, Steve reached for the radio clipped to his belt and turned towards the administration building, which was still intact. He swore inwardly again as he noted the car parked outside. It looked like the Qianjin
chargé d’affaires
had chosen this of all times to drop by.

He pressed the ‘Transmit’ button. “Lieutenant Maxwell to Gunnery Sergeant Kinnear, over.”

“Kinnear here, go ahead, Sir. Over.”

“Gunny, your boss and mine are about to pay us a visit. I’m going to brew a pot of coffee in my office. Please join me there. Over.”

“On my way, Sir. Over.”

“Thanks. Maxwell out.”

Sure enough, as he entered the building Jiang rose to his feet from a chair in a waiting area. “Good morning, Lieutenant Maxwell.”

“Good morning, Mr. Jiang. I’m afraid my boss and an engineer officer will be here in a minute or two, so I won’t be able to spare much time until they’ve gone.”

“I understand. I’ll try not to add to your burdens. You’re clearly very busy.”

“That’s an understatement! Would you like to join us for coffee? I’ll introduce you to them.”

“Thank you. Er… what if they ask why I’m here?”

“I’ll explain that we met at the spaceport yesterday, and you came to find out how our relief efforts are progressing.”

“Very well. By the way, I investigated the information you gave me. It checked out, so you’re in good standing as far as Qianjin is concerned.”

“Thanks for doing that.”

The Gunny arrived only a few paces ahead of the visiting officers. Lieutenant-Commander Bell ushered a tall, heavy-set Major into the office. “Major Emory, this is Senior Lieutenant Maxwell, detached from
Cybele
to set up your depot as you requested.” His eyes fell on the civilian, and he looked at Steve inquiringly.

“Good morning, Sir.” Steve braced to attention. “This is Mr. Jiang,
chargé d’affaires
for the planet Qianjin. We met at the spaceport yesterday, and he stopped by to see how we’re doing.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Jiang,” the Exec said agreeably, and hands were offered and shaken all round. “I hope you’re satisfied with what you see?”

“Your Marines and engineers are doing a remarkable job, and producing order out of chaos far more swiftly than I’d expected. I congratulate you all.”

“That’s good to hear, thank you, Sir,” Major Emory acknowledged. “Of course, there are plenty of problems, but we’re doing our best.” He transferred his gaze to Steve. “Speaking of problems, why did you suspend the offloading of equipment and supplies yesterday?”

“There aren’t enough transporters to bring it here quickly enough, Sir. There’d have been a huge buildup of backlogged supplies in the open at the spaceport, with no protection from the elements and no-one available to guard them. I’ve been on expeditionary missions like this before, Sir, and I’ve seen what happens next; damage, pilferage and spoilage. By delaying shipments for just one day, we’ve made time to build a hardstand right outside the walls here where our cargo shuttles can land. Our transporters will only have to travel a few meters between them and the depot. We’ll get your supplies organized, under cover and under guard much more quickly and efficiently.”

“That makes sense; but what about workers? You returned the gang of prison laborers allocated to you, and refused to accept any more. Won’t that slow you down intolerably?”

“It may, Sir, but the security risk posed by the prisoners was too great to keep them here. In the four hours we had them on site they crashed one of our transporters, broke into three containers, and threatened to stab two Marines who caught them in the act of stealing. I don’t have enough people to mount a permanent armed guard over them, particularly when they’re going to be spread out over the entire compound and unloading cargo shuttles on the hardstand outside the wall. We have to find more reliable workers from somewhere, Sir – also ones with greater skills. We don’t need dumb muscle here; we need people who can operate cargo handling machinery, drive transporters, and help service and repair light and heavy equipment. None of the work party initially assigned to this depot could do any of those things.”

“I agree on all counts, but where are we going to find workers like that?” the Major complained. “I can’t spare any more engineers for depot duties.”

“Would the crews of two merchant spaceships be suitable?” Jiang asked politely. “They include engineer officers and technicians, spacers experienced in cargo handling, and salvage workers accustomed to operating and maintaining heavy machinery.”

Steve was dumbstruck as he realized where Jiang was going. He opened his mouth to speak, but the Major forestalled him.

“That sounds like manna from heaven, Mr. Jiang. Where are they now?”

“They’re the reason I’m on Eskishi. They’re from Qianjin, and ended up as prisoners here after a disputed legal issue on a third planet. We’re doing our best to have their convictions overturned. They’ve just been transferred to the transit prison at the spaceport after they were stranded inland during the rebellion. I can vouch for their abilities, and they’ll follow my instructions. If you make use of their skills and offer them decent treatment, I’ll ensure that they’ll keep good order and discipline. I’ll even stay with them on site if necessary to ensure their co-operation.”

Major Emory looked at Steve. “Lieutenant, d’you think they’ll meet your needs?”

Steve chose his words carefully. More than most people, he knew the dangers involved in crossing the Dragon Tong. “If Mr. Jiang is prepared to vouch for them, Sir, and if he can arrange for them to be given ‘trusty’ status by the authorities, I’ll be glad to have them. What do you think, Gunnery Sergeant Kinnear?”

“If they’ve got skills like that, Sir, and they’re disciplined as well, they’re exactly what we need. I’ll take ’em yesterday, if not sooner!”

“Who assigns prisoners to work parties?” Lieutenant-Commander Bell asked.

“That’s done by bureaucrats on the staff of Governor Sirhan,” Emory said briskly. “I’ve had all too many arguments with them over the past few days. I’ll see about getting these Qianjin prisoners classified as ‘trusties’ right away, and assigned to Carsamba. Will you help me with that, please, Mr. Jiang?”

“I’ll be glad to, Major. The administration may not be happy about it, though, because my countrymen haven’t been here long enough for reclassification under normal circumstances.”

Emory snorted. “If they want Surush’s sewage plant and waterworks back online anytime soon, they’d better co-operate! We’ll get right on that as soon as we leave here. Thank you very much.” He sniffed appreciatively. “I smell coffee. I’ll steal a cup from you, if I may, Lieutenant, then you can show us around and tell us what you’re up to.”

“Aye aye, Sir.”

As Steve handed out disposable cups, creamer and sweetener, he mentally shook his head at the sheer
chutzpah
displayed by the Qianjin envoy.
Talk about bare-faced cheek! He’s taken a bunch of active Dragon Tong members, all convicted smugglers – about as far from ‘trusty’ material as you can get – and talked the Fleet into helping him get them reclassified and assigned to a more comfortable environment. What’s more, he did it all without telling a single lie, or paying a bribe, or doing anything illegal! I’d better watch him carefully and keep on top of what he does with his people, or he may try to manipulate me as well.

~ ~ ~

Major Emory radioed Steve shortly before noon. “We’ve got the go-ahead from the Governor to use the Qianjin prisoners at Carsamba. We had to bypass the bureaucracy to get his approval, because his lower-level administrators wouldn’t co-operate, but he recognizes that in an emergency, regulations sometimes have to be bent. There’s one condition, though. We – the Fleet in general, and you in particular as acting CO at Carsamba – are directly responsible for them. If they screw up, they’re to be put back behind bars at once. If any of them escape, we’re responsible for them and for any crimes they may commit, both legally and financially. I had to sign off on that on behalf of the Fleet in order to get permission to use them. I wasn’t happy about it, but under the circumstances we don’t have much choice. Keep a close watch on them and don’t stand for any nonsense, you hear me? Over.”

“I hear you, Sir. I’ll make sure everyone understands that. Over.”

“Good. The Qianjin
chargé
is making arrangements for the transfer. He’ll contact you shortly. I can’t spare the time to come out there again, so I’m going to leave it all in your hands. You’ve done a good job so far. I’ll trust you to keep on doing it. Emory out.”

Steve blinked at the abrupt ending to the call. The Major had sounded harassed, burdened – not surprising when he considered how much was on the Marine’s plate right now. He made a call of his own and summoned Gunnery Sergeant Kinnear to his office.

“We’ve got a problem, Gunny,” he began as they helped themselves to coffee. He described the arrangement made with the Eskishi authorities to allow them to use the Qianjin prisoners. “We need to figure out how we’re going to handle the situation. I’m fairly sure, from what I’ve been told, that these prisoners probably aren’t guilty of the specific crimes for which they’ve been convicted. This particular case looks to have been a setup by a bunch of rival crooks with better political connections. On the other hand, I’ve no doubt at all that they’re members of a criminal organization, and a very powerful one at that. Ever heard of the Dragon Tong?”

“A little, Sir. Scuttlebutt says they keep to themselves, but you don’t want to cross them, ’cause they can be real badasses if you do.”

“That’s not a bad way of putting it. I’ve run into them more than once. They’re considered real professionals, not your average run-of-the-mill crook. That doesn’t mean I’m happy at the thought of working so closely with them. We’re going to have to handle their people very carefully. You see, according to the rules we’re in charge here, but if we try to push them around or do anything to insult them they’re going to take offense. They can always refuse to work and leave us in the lurch; and if they really take offense they can try to escape. If they succeed the Fleet will be in serious trouble with the authorities here – not to mention me personally. While we’re setting up this depot and bringing down everything from orbit, we can’t do without them, because the Marines can’t spare more people for rear-echelon duties. In fact, we may need these spacers for quite some time.”

“I see the problem, Sir. How do we motivate them to stay here and work hard for us while treating them a whole lot better than typical prisoners, so as to keep them happy?”

“That’s it in a nutshell, Gunny. We can’t use the usual carrot and stick approach; it’ll have to be much more carrot and much less stick. Our Marines will have to work with them as colleagues rather than bosses. What’s more, they’ll outnumber us. We have fourteen Marines here, including you, plus myself. There’ll be about a hundred prisoners. They’re not military – at least, I don’t think they are; it’s possible some have had military training, or may be reservists in Qianjin’s armed forces. Even so, they’re as professional as we are in their own way. We’ve got to recognize that and encourage them to behave that way. They’re probably used to heavy-handed prison guards. We daren’t handle them like that. Trouble is, I’ve got to keep our own people happy too. If they think I’m mollycoddling the prisoners they’ll resent it. What’s the best way to handle that?”