Free Martial Law 1: Patriotic Treason by Christopher Nuttall Page A

advancing up the ladder owning to his experience, not to his political connections. No crewman would accept such a contract unless they were really desperate and probably unsuited for the job. This isn’t Earth, you know.”
     
    I flushed slightly. “No, sir,” I agreed. On Earth, it was extremely difficult to get rid of an employee unless there was clear proof of criminal activity. The UN had finally granted the workers all the rights they’d sought since time out of mind. Things were definitely different outside the Solar System. “I’ll need to inspect the newcomers cards…”
     
    “They have already been cleared by System Command,” the Captain said, still calmly. I wondered if he was mocking me slightly, but his face was still blank. “I can have copies fired over to your starship if you like, but System Command handled it for us.”
     
    “Good,” I said. This was not going according to plan. “I believe we’ll start with the bridge, if you don’t mind…?”
     
    The Captain probably did mind, but he led us down a long corridor, chattering away as if we were welcome guests. The interior corridors were surprisingly clean and tidy – I had been expecting something darker and unpleasant – and decorated with children’s scribbles. The Underlying Liberty was a family-owned ship, I remembered from the manifest; they had special licences to carry children and even give them education onboard the vessel. I envied them. I hadn’t known just how ignorant I was, despite the Academy, until I’d boarded the Jacques Delors. The bridge was neat and tidy, but compared to our bridge it looked primitive, with several consoles merged together and two of them open for inspection. I peered inside, just to be through, but I honestly couldn’t have told a working console from a useless unit. The Engineer probably could have, but he wasn't with us.
     
    “I’ve got two of the kids working on the console,” Captain Scott explained, much to my astonishment. That contravened several safety regulations, but the Senior Chief’s warning hung in my mind and I disregarded it. I’d have to make a report to the Captain, but there was little point in harassing anyone now. “They’re learning how to carry out repairs without spare components.”
     
    “Impressive,” I said, and meant it. We’d been taught that when a component becomes faulty, it has to be replaced. We didn’t know how to open a component and repair it if there were no spares available. It was no wonder that the First Lieutenant had so much paperwork to do. A missing component at the wrong time could doom the entire vessel and crew. “We need to inspect the cargo holds as well, and then we’ll leave you to your window.”
     
    The Captain took us down a set of stairs – no intership cars for a freighter – and into the main cargo hold. It was a massive modular structure – normally, the freighter would simply unload them all in orbit, rather than trying to land – packed with cargo crates. A handful had been sealed by UN authority and I left those alone, but we opened up a couple more and checked them against the manifest. I wouldn’t have known a piece of farming gear from a cargo of illegal weapons, but the Marines seemed calm and the Captain didn’t look nervous.
     
    “It all seems fine,” I said, finally. I had the legal authority to insist on a full search, but there were no grounds for it and the Captain would be annoyed with me. I’d be cleaning toilets for the next month with a toothbrush. “Thank you for your time.”
     
    “You’re welcome,” Captain Scott said. I knew he didn’t mean it, but I accepted it graciously. “I hope to see you again sometime.”
     
    We were back onboard the shuttle and heading away from the freighter before I realised what he meant.
     
    “We’re picking up an order from System Command,” Alice said, suddenly. “They want us to inspect this freighter here.”
     
    I blinked. The small freighter