Free Task Force by Brian Falkner Page A

that had been through an accidental explosion and was putting in for emergency repairs. His accent was perfect, and he leaned on the side rail like someone who had been around ships all his life.
    A sergeant stepped forward and returned the salute. “We heard about the explosion. Everybody okay?”
    “Apart from a few concussions and ruptured eardrums, all is good,” the Tsar replied. “We were lucky.”
    “Do you require medical assistance?”
    “Thank you, but no—our medics have everything under control.”
    “Our own medics are here and waiting to assist,” the sergeant said.
    “A kind offer, but not necessary, thanks,” the Tsar said, with just the right mixture of charm and condescension.
A natural actor
, Chisnall thought. Completely convincing. That worried him a little.
    “Then you will permit me to come on board and have a look around,” the sergeant said.
    There was a silence.
    “For what reason, Sergeant? We are simply resting here till first light, while we try and repair some of our equipment,” the Tsar said.
    “This is a secure area,” the sergeant said. “We cannot allow you to land here without a security inspection.”
    “Delay him,” Chisnall whispered on the comm, thinking of the twenty or so Bzadian crew members tied up belowdecks. “Everyone be on your toes. When the brown stuff hits the fan, it’s going to fly everywhere.”
    They had to wait for Price. When she took out the power, it would cut communications to the island. They couldn’t take a chance that someone on the island would alert the Coastal Defense Command.
    On the deck, the Tsar straightened his back and glared down at the sergeant on the wharf below. “Sergeant, this is a secure ship. We cannot allow you on board without explicit authority. We have highly sensitive information and equipment.”
    “I am afraid I must insist, sir,” the sergeant said, making the Bzadian gesture of apology, covering his face with both hands. “Please lower your gangway and allow us to board.”
    “On whose authority, Sergeant?” the Tsar asked.
    “On the authority of Coastal Defense Command.”
    “This is going to go south real fast,” Chisnall murmured into the comm.
    “I will have to check with my captain,” the Tsar said. He turned and walked, as slowly as he could without seeming suspicious, to the door that led into the bridge. He opened it and stuck his head inside, winking at Chisnall.
    Chisnall followed him out onto the deck.
    “What is the problem?” he asked.
    “The sergeant would like to inspect us,” the Tsar said, nodding down at the wharf.
    Chisnall gripped the handrail with both hands and leaned down. “Good evening, Sergeant.”
    “Good evening, sir,” the sergeant said.
    “Please repeat that, a little louder if you will,” Chisnall said, tapping an ear with a finger. “I cannot hear too well. Ruptured eardrums.”
    “I said good evening, sir,” the sergeant said loudly.
    Chisnall nodded. “Please explain your request.”
    “We wish to board and inspect your vessel, sir.”
    “Would you mind repeating that slowly?” Chisnall said.
    “We request to board and inspect your vessel. Sir.”
    “Yes, we will be inspecting the vessel for damage at first light,” Chisnall said.
    “You misheard me, sir,” the sergeant said. “We wish to inspect your vessel.”
    “You wish to inspect it for us?” Chisnall asked. “Why? Are you naval engineers?”
    Next to him, the Tsar had to stifle a smile.
    The sergeant wasn’t smiling. “Coastal Defense Command has requested a security inspection of this ship.”
    “A what inspection?” Chisnall said, aware that he was pushing the difficulty-hearing thing a bit too far.
    “A security inspection.”
    “Security? Not really necessary, I can assure you, but of course, if those are your orders, we would be happy to oblige.”
    “Thank you, sir,” the sergeant said, looking relieved.
    Chisnall turned to the Tsar.
    “Please organize the gangway for these