The Red Admiral

by C. R. Daems

  "Human nature, I think. We lash out at whoever is available." He paused, assessing me. "What, then, is your reason for visiting the NIA stations since you understand there is some hostility toward you?"

  "I'm hoping to ensure everyone is focused on their responsibility. I think after a while the job can become routine and folks lose focus," I said, thinking about what I had heard and seen at the various stations I had visited.

  "Focus?"

  "What would you do if a general's daughter was kidnapped?"

  "Probably visit the police to see what they did, although I would have no authority to even see the case file," he said automatically.

  "What would you do if they let you look and you found they had been extremely thorough and gone the extra mile but could find no normal reason for her to be missing—no addictions, no steady boyfriend, and no problems at home?" I asked. He sat frowning at me and eventually shrugged in defeat. I went on to explain what I had done, the reason I was visiting each system, and recounted the incident in Safe Harbor.

  He laughed. "I think you are going to be good for the NIA, ma'am. You're right. It's easy to get sloppy and assume things not in evidence."

  The staff meeting went well with Sydell's enthusiastic support, lasting all day and into the evening. The next day, Sydell came along to see the chief of police since he would be responsible to work with him to monitor for missing women. We found six women who met the profile: one this year, two last year, one the year before, and another four years before.

  We left for Black Water the next day, surprised there had been no incidents.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Star System: Black Water – Too Much Excitement

  Commander Cooper met me with a perfect salute when I exited the shuttle. "Welcome to Black Water, ma'am, and congratulations on your promotion. I love my promotion and getting the Black Water NIA station to manage, but I've missed having you as a boss." She was literally a bundle of bubbling energy. "I miss our staff meetings."

  "Me too," I said. "Currently I have only one of my NIA chiefs at my weekly staff meetings."

  "I've alerted the station that there will be a site meeting while you are here. Everyone is looking forward to meeting you, as I've shared some of our interesting stories by way of emphasizing what I expect of my people."

  I spent an hour with Cooper going over old times, explaining the real reason for my visit, and the rest of the day with her people. We stopped for a working lunch, dinner, and early evening pizza party. It was a fun day and evening. I knew Cooper and she knew what I expected, so it was just a matter of reinforcing it with her people.

  Cooper had booked us rooms at the Black Stallion, an upscale hotel and restaurant, with a full range of amenities despite the rustic facade and horse racing pictures, equipment, and vids of famous races on monitors throughout the lobby, hallways, and in the rooms. My suite had a small kitchen, living room, and master bathroom. The room opened onto a terrace that overlooked the rolling hills to the east and a large lake to the north.

  "Ma'am, what can I do to help catch the…kidnappers?" Cooper asked as the five of us sat around drinking coffee.

  "Keep involved with the police commissioner. Although it's his responsibility, we can accomplish more if the police and NIA work collaboratively and share information. I think we can infer that the women are being kidnapped, they fit a specific profile, the kidnappers are an organized entity, and they have people on every planet," I said, and Cooper nodded. "What we don't know is how they identify their victims, how the women are kidnapped and moved off system, why the women are being kidnapped, and how the organization communicates. Ideally, we need to find one or more of the kidnapped women. Barring that, we need to find the answers to those four questions."

  "For prostitution," Banner said. Cooper smiled, knowing what I would say.

  "We can conjecture that is the reason but can't assume we know the answer without proof. Even our conjecture that the women have been kidnapped is nothing more than a guess."

  "What else could it be?" Cooper asked.

  "They could be killed for their body parts," I said. "Or they may have gone willingly for reasons we haven't thought of. We will never catch them if we resort to guessing. Every conjecture must be proved."

  * * *

  I woke to Red hissing in my ear, and my eyes flew open in time to see the door to the living room open and a dark shadow appear in the doorway. I rolled onto my stomach, my hand desperately seeking my Mfw on the night table, just as I saw a flash of a laser and smelled my bedding ignite centimeters from my back and head. I rolled again, tumbling off the bed as my arm swept across the night table, sending the small table light, a glass of water, my tablet, and my Mfw crashing to the floor along with me. The smell of burning wood filled my nostrils as the laser burned a two-centimeter scar across the wooden table above me. Desperately, I swung my left arm in a semicircle, searching for my weapon. When I felt the familiar feel of a Mfw, I clutched it in a death grip and rolled toward it just as the laser beam flashed again, This time cutting through my trailing nightgown. Knowing I had no time to transfer the Mfw to my right hand, I steadied the stock with my right and fired blindly using my left hand. The hissing noise from the Mfw, the light from the laser beam, and the crackling noise as it burned through the wallboard allowed the intruder to jump safely backward into the doorway. He banged into the door, which caused it to partially close and his return laser fire to strike the wall high over my head. It cut a large picture frame hanging on the wall in half. The pieces crashed to the floor, and shards of glass sprayed in all directions. Several ripped through my nightgown, striking me in my side and legs. I felt the impact and knew I had probably been cut, but the rush of adrenalin that flooded me negated the pain for now.

  I transferred the weapon to my right hand and focused on the door. Although it was still the dead of night and the moon only a sliver, my eyes had adjusted to the darkness and I could make out the outline of the doorway into the living room. I waited, ready to kill anything that appeared in the opening. My finger tightened on the trigger as the door was eased open, but instead of a person, a flaming towel came flying through the doorway and onto the bed, igniting the bedcovers, and they burst into flame. With the door now a little more than half open, my opponent could see the bed, precluding me from attempting to put out the fire. Soon, the bedding began to smoke. I reached over and pulled the cover toward me and rolled away, thinking the carpet wouldn't burn as easily as the bed, giving me more time to…burn. I gave a mental snort. There was little I could do. The shooter could just wait until I passed out from the smoke or shoot me if I tried to leave. Then it dawned on me. We were both using lasers, which were relatively silent and wouldn't alert my guard in the hallway—assuming the shooter came in through the balcony window. I switched to projectiles and fired a burst at the partial opening I could see from my position. The noise sounded loud but no guard appeared, which meant help wasn't coming. A second later, the shadow of an arm appeared and an Mfw began spitting projectiles, which confirmed my guard was down. The projectiles destroyed the bed, the night table, and the dresser as the shooter waved the weapon on full automatic in a right to left arc. As I lay flat on the floor, the heavy wooden bed frame shielded me. When the firing paused, I rolled onto my knees and lunged at the door, hoping he had emptied the projectile's magazine. If not, I was in bad trouble…well, worse trouble. I slammed into the door, which in turn rammed into the shooter. He grunted, and I heard his weapon hit the floor and a moment later a thud I thought and hoped was the shooter falling.

  I jerked open the door ready to fire while searching for the shooter, who I hoped was unarmed now. I saw movement and swung my Mfw in that direction, preparing to shoot, but it was too late. Before I could aim, the shadow rolled away. Then I saw a flash of metal and felt a burning sensation across my shoulder—a knife, I realized, as I heard it clank to the floor. In panic, I reached for Red. To my relief, the gash was a centimeter from where
Red lay wrapped around my neck. I looked back to see a shadow dash across the room. I fired too late once more, destroying the chair and couch he dove behind. Having at best only a burst or two remaining, I switched back to the laser setting, noting the remaining charge was also low. He suddenly popped up, and a flash from a laser caused me to dive behind the second couch. It was obvious we were both going to die—either from smoke inhalation or we'd burn to death if we stayed. But neither of us could leave without a truce, which wasn't likely to happen. He might also have been low on laser power and projectiles, but I wagered he had other throwing knives. I didn't and wouldn't know how to effectively throw one if I did. I had Red but didn't want to risk him getting killed. I laughed. I appeared to have lots of choices on how l wanted to die. I put the odds of a successful run to the door to the hallway at one in a hundred. I'd be shot before I got the door open. Red might make it to the shooter and strike him but would have no protection. He'd be killed and I'd die of the virus. If we continued using our Mfws, we would likely run out of power or ammo and it would mean hand-to-hand combat. I had Red, but he had a knife and was undoubtedly trained in close-quarters fighting. And if we waited too much longer, we would either burn or suffocate to death.

  Then the shooter laughed. Damned if I saw anything funny to laugh about. "See you in hell, bitch," he shouted, and I heard the pop, pop, pop of his Mfw as the glass door to the terrace shattered.

  "Shit," I muttered as I dove toward the window and away from the bedroom door as cool outside air rushed in and flames exploded like a flame thrower out of the bedroom into the living room area. The bedroom was now a raging inferno, and the fire was quickly spreading across the living room. While I lay trying to breathe, hot air filled my lungs and I heard the door to the hallway open; I realized the shooter had taken the opportunity to exit. I couldn't even if I could make it across the burning room to the door, since he would be waiting for me to exit. I emptied my remaining projectiles into the window I lay under. It cracked and then exploded outward. I jumped through the opening and landed on sheets of broken glass, sliding into the terrace railing. I wasn't safe there, as it was likely the remaining windows would soon explode outward, shredding me in the process. I had to move or die, but my body was drained and weakened from the abuse I had taken and lack of oxygen. I laughed when Red struck me in the neck. "Bad timing, Red," I muttered, amused despite the situation. Several seconds later, my body felt like it was on fire and energy flowed through me like hot lava. Revived, I crawled over the railing, lowered myself until I was dangling from the cement platform, and began swinging back and forth. As my legs swung inward, I let go and landed on my back onto the terrace below mine. Blackness engulfed me.

  * * *

  I woke in bed, remembering the nightmare. It had seemed so real, I thought as I snuggled deeper into the blankets for a few more minutes of rest…but burning pain assaulted me and I felt like I was on fire. I collapsed back, and slowly the pain lessened. When I could breathe normally again, I opened my eyes and realized I wasn't in a hotel bed; my arms were bandaged…no, my entire body had gauze wrapped everywhere. Scanning the room, I saw three marines in battle gear. One was Pannell.

  "How bad?" I asked, knowing the IV contained something to reduce the pain and to make me feel way better than I should.

  "If the maid hadn't found you, you would have died of hypothermia, or blood loss, or the space gods only know what. You're a mess, although Dr. Renata told me none of it is critical: cuts, burns, and bruising, mostly. Several minor laser burns that won't cause any lasting damage." He shook his head. I immediately reached up and stroked Red, who seemed all right. "I told them Red wouldn't bother them when nobody wanted to touch you." He laughed. "Thankfully he didn't, and they managed to get you to the local hospital. By that time, Dr. Renata had arrived. What happened, Anna?"

  "I woke to a man opening my bedroom door…" I went on to explain what I heard, saw, and did.

  "He killed the two guards I had stationed in the hallway," Pannell said, and I could feel his pain and frustration. Pain over the death of his men and frustration in not being able to stop the attacks on me. Are you up for a visitor?" He continued when I nodded. "Commissioner Bailey would like to speak with you, and Commander Cooper is also waiting."

  "Send them both in," I said. I was too tired to visit police headquarters, and the faster I finished, the faster we could leave Black Water. Not that I thought leaving the system would stop the attempts on my life, but I wanted to get back home to Alexa—for her sake and mine.

  Commissioner Bailey was a short, stocky man of middle age who looked physically fit in spite of his position and lack of physical activity. His face had some wrinkles, and his curly brown hair had specks of gray, but his frame looked hard and he had no middle-age spread.

  "Good morning, Admiral Paulus," he said with a hint of uncertainty. "Since you got hurt under my watch, I thought I would come visit you by way of apology."

  "Call me Anna, Commissioner, and thanks for coming. Colonel Pannell will want to get me back on the Taranis as soon as possible. I suspect the reason I was attacked is the same reason I wanted to see you…" I went through my standard explanation of how I identified the problem and what I wanted from him.

  "You and Commander Cooper will have my full support," he replied when I had finished. We decided that Bailey, his detectives, and Cooper would review the records and report back to me their findings rather than waiting for me to recover. Later that day, Pannell had me moved to the dispensary on the Taranis. The following day, Cooper met with me on the cruiser. They had identified eight women who met the profile: two each year over the last four years.

  We left the next day for Holy Star, a four-day trip.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Star System: Holy Star

  Commander Weaver gave me a snappy salute as I cleared the shuttle. He stuck out his hand. "Welcome to Holy Star, Admiral Paulus," he said, smiling as he appraised his new, very young boss. This was the first time I'd met Weaver, although he had been a NIA station chief before I was appointed to the Eastar station. He had communicated with Banner and Pannell before we arrived and had our transportation waiting for us.

  "How is the inspection of the NIA stations going?" he asked conversationally, but I could feel it was a probe into my agenda.

  "Actually, I'm visiting each system to work with the police commissioners. Getting to meet the folks who run the NIA stations has been a pleasant bonus."

  "I had heard two station chiefs retired." Although a statement, it was really a question, Forced out?

  "They didn't like the idea of working for someone so young and inexperienced. I understood their frustration. They had considerable time in grade, far more than me. And the fact that I look like I should be wearing lieutenant or at most lieutenant commander rank made it worse."

  He nodded rather sagely. "It's easy to imagine you deserved an out-of-zone promotion more than another, especially when they come so slowly in peace time. Who wants to admit you haven't done anything to justify it." He laughed, nodding toward my medals. "I've never seen so many purple hearts." His eyes went to Pannell, who gave a disgusted look.

  "She earned another at Black Water." He glared at me, but I could see the pain in his eyes. "Admiral Paulus has an uncanny knack for exposing the truly evil criminals in our society," he said in frustration. Weaver looked to me.

  "I should let Paul lock me up. Good men are dying to protect me, and I hate it. But…" I went on to give a short synopsis of the attack and the reason I wanted to speak with the police commissioner. While we waited, he called a staff meeting, which included everyone. He was a confident leader and was happy for me to take control of the meeting.

  "You have an interesting style, Admiral. It's so easy and natural that one misses how focused it is. Like a well-trained herding dog leading the sheep home…not to imply—" he hurriedly continued before I could comment.

  "I like that better than Vice Admiral Lulltrel calling me a
bloodhound, pit bull mix," I said, which invoked a hearty laugh.

  "Two sides of the same coin: the teacher and the leader," he said thoughtfully.

  I wasn't sure if I were a teacher but I liked the imagery. We met with Commissioner Lindgren the next day.

  "It's nice to meet you Admiral Paulus. You're one of the rumor mill’s favorite people. Often true of people who are doing something while the rest of us are stuck in our quiet routines," he said, holding out his hand, which I took. His handshake was firm, his smile welcoming, and his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I assume you're chasing something?" he asked. He was a big man in height and girth, and he had a round face with a curly beard that appeared to be an extension of the full head of curly reddish-brown hair that covered his ears.

  "Thank you, Commissioner Lindgren. Anna, please. You're correct. While checking a marine man's daughter who went missing…" I gave him the long version, wanting his and the other commissioner's full cooperation, since it would take that and more to solve this case. When I finished, he sat back rubbing his chin.

  "I can see your problem, Colonel," he said, looking at Pannell. I doubt any of us would have figured out these missing women were unique. Just more missing persons. We certainly would never have concluded it was a UAS problem, and therefore, the criminals would have had little chance of being discovered. It's easy to understand why they are so upset—like you found their footprints on the path leading to their safehouse." He roared with laughter, then tapped on his tablet. "Suzzie, get Harrison and Moorse up here." He looked at me. "They are my missing persons detectives." We spent the next ten hours reviewing missing persons cases going back five years and found five cases that matched our profile: one this year, two the year before, one the year before that, and one four years before.