Cold Conflict (Deception Fleet Book 2)

by Daniel Gibbs

“I will do my best.”

  “No.” Noor’s expression hardened—not an obvious display of anger, but a tightening of his features without losing the charming smile. Gina knew he could be dangerous, even without the mission briefing files. “You will do what needs to be done, whatever the cost. Cost is not an issue. It never will be. Being Nosamo means you give your all.”

  “I understand. I do.” Gina walked to the aquarium windows. “You know, my mother would often take me to the sea. Even when I was away at the academy on Churchill, she made time to visit so we could see the ocean, any ocean. It was something we loved since we were raised aboard a space habitat.”

  “You see the beauty in this creation. It is why I have these aquariums throughout our offices—a constant reminder, our greatest role here is as a protector and improver of the same creation. We heal worlds. This is why I hold everyone in Nosamo to a higher standard, more than to which humanity is accustomed.”

  Not egotistical at all, is he? Gina nodded. “Yes. I see that now. That’s why—” She let herself choke up. Instead of moving away from the repulsive display of fish, she pressed both her hands to the transparent barrier. “This is where I’m meant to be.”

  “Echo Two, the microbots are in position. Stay put for ten seconds, and they’ll finish seeping through the membrane.”

  Hopefully without making the tons of water burst through in a flood that could drown all three of us. Gina leaned in and sighed. She presumed she looked overwhelmed by a deluge of emotions, when the primary sensation she actually harbored was one of sickness. Those damned fish.

  The microbots crawling down her fingertips weren’t the pebble-sized ones she’d used to sabotage the League consulate on Aphendrika. They were a tenth the size and wafer-thin, able to wriggle their way into the transparent wall, stretching their molecules apart until they could worm into the water and reform. Once reassembled, they would be just as effective as the regular microbots, staying hidden and on station over the next day before they disintegrated. Enough time to give Brant an initial peek into Nosamo’s network.

  Noor’s hand rested on Gina’s shoulder. She let it stay there twice as long as she would have preferred. If it had happened in a bar, she would have broken one of the man’s fingers.

  Instead, she glanced back at him, her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you for this opportunity,” Gina murmured.

  “Thank you,” Noor said, “for believing in us. Ciara will settle you into your office. We’ll have a staff meeting for your section tomorrow morning.”

  He left the room. Ciara maintained a respectful distance, presumably allowing Gina to collect herself.

  “They’re through,” Brant said. “Getting a signal now. We’ll know more within twenty-four hours.”

  Thank goodness. As Gina followed Ciara out of the meeting room, she fought the urge to scrub her hands with disinfectant. When we steal what we came here for, I’m going to flush every last slimy fish out the nearest hatch.

  Tactisar Security Solutions was headquartered in the sectors directly beneath Nosamo, its offices, holding cells, and storage facilities taking up four square kilometers. A quarter of that space was dedicated to a hangar that opened along a sloped hatch, allowing gunships access to the region around Bellwether. The majority of Tactisar staff and officers lived in residential blocks nearby.

  Ramsey Moss sagged into his chair. It had been a long day of traipsing around the top sectors of Bellwether, dragging the new guy along. But it was worth every second and his aching feet—Jack Arno proved a quick study when it came to memorizing locations. He grinned. That would come in handy when he had to keep an eye on Boyd.

  Of all the dumb aliases. It hadn’t been Ramsey’s idea, but his benefactor had insisted, with his wishes enforced by Fernand. Oh well. It had worked out for the best, keeping the contact secret to all but Ramsey and the outside money. Boyd had been implanted deep in Nosamo’s infrastructure—but for that contact to be of any use when the time came for the heist, Ramsey needed another person he could trust. Venable had been the guy, but the bastard Nels had shot him.

  His office door chimed. Ramsey saw Cho’s hazy image behind the semitransparent glass. “Yeah. Come in.”

  Cho sat down opposite Ramsey’s desk. His hair was slick with sweat.

  “Where the hell have you been? I toured the new guy over every square centimeter, and you couldn’t be bothered to answer your commlink, Sergeant?”

  “Sorry, boss. We were running down a tip on Nels’s partner. We thought we had him cornered in Sector E, South Quarter, but there’s so much machinery…” Cho shook his head. “Anyway, we left sniffer drones in five packs. They’ll patrol their assigned areas, reporting in remotely every few hours unless we get lucky.”

  “Better hope you do. Those robot trackers are decent, but they don’t beat a man on the scene. Any ID on the person?”

  “None. Nels kept to himself before—well, before he tried to take off.”

  “Keep me updated.”

  “How’re things looking for the job?”

  Ramsey shrugged. “As well as can be expected. Fernand passed me a signal from our contact with Apex. They’re ready to move payment—precious stones, artwork, the good stuff, stuff that can’t be tracked into our bank accounts. Once we get the plans to the rendezvous, we all get our cut.”

  “Fernand. You trust this guy still?”

  “His intel’s paid off every single time. If it hadn’t, we’d be short the extra credits we need to pull this off. Besides, the techs in on the plan are watching his signals. And there’s no denying that the money we’ve gotten so far is good.”

  Cho shook his head. “This one has a lot of moving parts. It’s not like the scams we used to run.”

  “You’re damn right it’s not. This is the real deal, Sergeant. We get it right, and we’re set for life.” Ramsey grinned. “Then we kiss that Noor prick and this whole station goodbye.”

  6

  Bellwether Logistics and Supply Station

  Caeli Star System—the Alvarsson Wedge

  16 November 2464

  * * *

  Chief Warrant Officer Ixora Sakuri, “Vector Control” of Covert Action Unit 22, sat alone on one side of Oxford’s briefing room table. A stern-faced young woman with a slight build, Sakuri seemed to sag against her chair, her flight suit rumpled. She reminded Colonel Sinclair of many fresh-faced recruits he’d helped train. Most didn’t make the cut, but she had the look of someone who could function under pressure. This time, the aftermath of such a pressure-filled situation had proven too much.

  “Captain Garza and I were in constant communication up until—when his signal terminated.” Her voice shook on his name but steadied as she continued her report. She clasped her fingers to keep them from shaking. “He had suspicions someone in Tactisar had breached his cover, but I disagreed. So did Vector Two—Lieutenant Garza. Our concern was more that Tactisar had targeted him because of his actions. His cover held.”

  Sinclair consulted his tablet. “The captain’s cover was that of a former CBI agent dismissed for bribery and corruption charges.”

  “Yes, sir. It was the kind of position we knew Tactisar would approve of, given their record of providing ex-law enforcement with ‘second chances,’ as they call them.” Sakuri scowled. “More like a chance to stock their ranks with the scum of the Coalition who’d been turned out from their respective organizations for wrongdoing.”

  “Do you have evidence of what happened, Warrant? What it was that breached Captain Garza’s security and made him the target?”

  “Not conclusively, sir. But I do know Tactisar officers confronted the captain in his final hours, accusing him of informing to Nosamo, or at least attempting to inform.”

  “Inform Nosamo of what?”

  “Of Tactisar’s collusion with a rival company. They planned to steal the corporation’s newest atmospheric technology together. We determined this during our investigation, but Captain Garza was struggling to piec
e together who the benefactor was.”

  Sinclair frowned.

  “There’s no mention of a benefactor in your report, Warrant.” Eldred had stayed quiet during the questioning as she recorded Sakuri’s statements. “What was that person’s role?”

  “Money. Support. We were pretty sure that was it. And by support, I mean weapons and tech.” Sakuri looked disgusted. “Whoever he or she is, they have deep pockets. Their drones, for example—I thought I had them all blocked so they would automatically ghost Captain Garza when he was conducting reconnaissance. We wanted his movements untracked for certain time periods. But they found him when he was trying to make his escape. It shouldn’t have happened.”

  Sinclair entered his own note. Inform 171 to confirm drone tech shipments. He shunted it from his tablet to Eldred’s. He glanced at her and got a curt nod. “Were you able to retrieve scans of the drones? They’ll be invaluable to the current team when it comes to tracking them down and interdicting their efforts.”

  “Yes, sir. We—I retrieved the data from Captain Garza’s wrist scanner.” Her voice faltered. “Sorry, Colonel. It’s…”

  “This is not your fault, Warrant. I want you to put the self-blame far from your mind. Captain Garza was a brave officer who knew the risks of his perilous task. Your enemies are the ones responsible for his death. I need your assistance, you understand, if we are to find and secure Lieutenant Garza.”

  “Yes, sir.” Tears glistened in Sakuri’s eyes, but she straightened in her chair. “Lieutenant Garza’s role as Vector Two, which I indicated in my report, was to shadow the captain. His cover aboard Bellwether was as docking-bay drone maintenance. Two hundred people are employed in that capacity. Since the—since Captain Garza’s death, the lieutenant has not reported to work or responded to my signals.”

  “But you’ve been searching for him since,” Eldred noted.

  “Every day, Warrant. Every minute until Oxford showed up.”

  “I understand. I do. What I mean to ask is if you’ve been scanning for his communications frequencies.”

  “And the public comms in case he tried to send a hidden message that way. I’ve received nothing.”

  Sinclair watched as Eldred tapped her finger in a rapid rhythm on the side of her tablet.

  “What, pray tell, is percolating?” Sinclair asked.

  “Well, I was stuck on Sakuri’s description of the drones, so I pulled up their schematics. They’re configured not only for interior maintenance work but capable of withstanding hard vacuum conditions so they can scour the station’s outer hull for damage. Not all of them can conduct the repairs, but they routinely call in larger work bots to replace warped plating or seal impact damage. You said Lieutenant Garza worked on the similar hangar bay drones. Did he have contact with these security or surveillance models, the upgraded ones you believe were shipped in?”

  “He did. I received a few of his scans before he went dark. Vector Two tried to draw Captain Garza’s attackers away before he was overwhelmed and had to fall back.” Sakuri’s expression tightened. “Do you think he might have found a way to use them?”

  “It’s possible,” Eldred said. “Colonel, if Lieutenant Garza were able to get ahold of one of these upgraded drones, he could use its onboard communications—which are meant for greater range outside Bellwether—to attempt contact. Now, if Warrant Sakuri hadn’t picked up those signals, she either could have been out of range—”

  “Or she could have been scanning for the wrong frequency through no fault of her own,” Sinclair murmured. “Jolly good. Coordinate with Captain Tamir. Tune our comms to the same wavelength used by those drones.”

  “Relay satellites in the system should have records of past messages too,” Eldred said. “I’ll see if we can’t break in and pull those, assuming we’re not going to ask Nosamo for permission.”

  “Hardly, Warrant. Nosamo is no more aware of our presence here than our targets.”

  “Roger that, sir. I’ll get started.”

  “In a moment.” Sinclair steepled his fingers. “Warrant Sakuri, you will check in with the chief medical officer and shipboard psychologist. Once they clear you for duty, I’d like you to remain available to assist Warrant Eldred and Captain Tamir in their investigation. I shall, of course, contact your CO and obtain authorization for a change of orders.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’m happy to continue to do my part.” Sakuri chewed her lip. “Colonel, if I may—”

  “Your input is welcome, Warrant.”

  “I’d like to request flying retrieval or transport, should the need arise.”

  “We have a full roster of pilots aboard, Warrant, but rest assured, if I think we can make use of your talents, we will.” Sinclair smiled. “You’re dismissed.”

  “Sir.” Sakuri rose, braced to attention, then left the compartment.

  Two seconds after the hatch sealed, Eldred turned toward Sinclair. “You didn’t ask about her connections to the Sakuri family from Nosamo’s board.”

  “No. The moment wasn’t right. Guilt-ridden as she is, any attempt to question her family’s role in the corporation could lead to hesitance, or worse, outright fabrication.”

  “Do you think she’d lie to a superior officer?”

  Sinclair shrugged. “We all lie, in one way or another, Miranda. Just because I recognize the undeniable fact does not make me a full-fledged cynic. Assigning her to you and Captain Tamir will yield better results than if I press her from my position.”

  “Understood.” Eldred rose. “Looks like I get to put my CIS training to good use, after all.”

  “I indeed hope so.” Sinclair joined her at the hatch. “Compile our notes from this session with all the data she’s turned over, plus anything relevant you can pull from her shuttle. Prepare a compressed packet for Captain Adams. I’ll give final review and approval before you send it via secure tight-beam to Lieutenant Guinto.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  By the time they reached the control center, Sinclair was working through the highlights of Sakuri’s questioning. He didn’t have the impression the young warrant officer was hiding something, per se. Captain Garza’s death had clearly rattled her, but that she hadn’t offered anything about her personal connection to the Sakuri family hadn’t escaped his notice, either, even with Eldred pointing it out.

  He knew the familial ties were a prime factor in her assignment to her op. Whether such a connection made her prone to mistakes, well, he would have to keep a sharp eye. Much rode on the psychologist’s report.

  Sinclair frowned. He hoped, for Lieutenant Garza’s sake, it came back with few flags raised. Warrant Sakuri was the best source of information they had to attempt his rescue.

  Jackson took a table near the windows inside Giardino Delle Stelle, a restaurant with sprawling tables set between actual streams of water. Crossing the narrow bridges over the gurgling creeks and onto faux stone paths made him feel like he was in one of the fairy tales Mom used to read to him when he could barely walk. There was always a great miracle at the end. He wanted to pull one off again.

  The hovering servo bot, barely more than a cylinder with six ducted fans carrying a glowing globe, swung by to activate the menu holo in the center of his table. Jackson dismissed the bot and turned his attention to the spectacular view. The restaurant took up three floors looking out through a transparent wall into Eden Core. He still had a hard time believing the extent of the ecosphere he saw before him.

  “Lovely sight, isn’t it?” Gina’s voice drifted over his shoulder.

  He smiled, taking in her reflection in the wall. She’d sat at the table behind him, facing the opposite direction. “Gorgeous.”

  “Now, Jack, that’s the part where you’re supposed to say, ‘Nothing in nature compares to your beauty,’ or something equally flattering.”

  Jackson smothered his grin, trying not to break into chuckles like a teenage recruit. “My mistake. You want to take over running the op while I brush up on compliments
for pretty women?”

  “Good start.” A servo bot brought Gina a glass of red wine. It shimmered inside the glass as she swirled it. “And how was your first day at work?”

  “Pretty good, honey.”

  “The uniform suits you. It’s better tailored than your typical togs, though the vest is too bulky.”

  Jackson glanced down at the black vest, with its Tactisar badge gleaming under the restaurant lights. He wore a tight-fitting blue shirt and a pair of gray trousers since the rest of the security company had nothing approaching a dress code. “Thanks. I think a vest would equally ruin your outfit.”

  Gina giggled as she flicked through the holographic menu. Seriously, though, she was stunning in the red dress, complete with the starry jewels glittering at her neck. Jackson did his best not to turn around and appreciate her more fully, especially when it came to the slit up her thigh.

  “And your day?”

  “Orientation and familiarization with the systems for which I’m responsible. Simple stuff. Mostly.” She sipped her wine. “Home in my ear coaxed me through the rest.”

  “How’d our small friends do?”

  “They brought him lots of goodies, or so he says. You’ll hear from him later, once he gets it all sorted out. Our small friends have left the building, as the saying goes.”

  “Glad they were useful again. Don’t worry. We’ll get you some more.”

  “Thanks. So… your day went well?”

  Jackson sighed. “If you call learning the best places to shake down merchants for protection money ‘well,’ then, yes. They want me posted inside Nosamo itself, which fits with what we read in the job posting. The bulk of my work would be internal security there, which should help us contact whomever the rival company has deployed.”

  “They have a person on the inside already? I knew that was Vector One’s suspicion…”

  “He wasn’t able to prove it.” Jackson spotted movement in the reflection, the servo bot, returning to take his order—having escorted two more people to their table, Tactisar officers, a man and a woman. The blonde was the one who’d provided backup for Ramsey at the first dockside introduction. “Looks like we’re not the only ones snooping for answers. Your nine o’clock.”