"I know a little about this interconnected dynamic," Murph said. "If you hurt Kellea Colleran, Burke will kill you."
"I can handle Jason Burke," Whitney scoffed. Jacob had been watching her eyes as she said it and could see it was all bluster. She was genuinely afraid of his father. What could he have done to put that sort of fear into a legendary assassin loaded with cybernetic upgrades to the point she was barely human anymore?
"Can you handle Crusher and Lucky, as well?" Murph pressed. "His whole crew will come down on you. I know you're some badass killer from the boundary worlds, but this—"
"Why do you even care?" Whitney snapped.
"I don't," Murph said. "At least not about you personally. But your trying to take out the admiral could create complications for us trying to complete our own mission."
"And?"
"I suppose there's no point in appealing to your humanity?" Jacob asked. "If we don't recover the Talon, Earth could be in the crosshairs."
"You suppose right, Lieutenant," Whitney said. "I was taken from Earth in the 1940s. You think I relate to anyone on that planet anymore?"
"How about you?" Jacob asked Abiyah. "You ready to risk the lives of everyone on your homeworld to fill some contract?"
"We're done here," Whitney said before her partner could answer. "I came here because I thought we might trade some useful intel with each other, but I can see now that you idiots have nothing. If Webb had any brains, he'd recall you before you really screw something up out here."
"What the hell was that all about?" Taylor asked once the pair had left the suite.
"She was fishing," Jacob said. "They don't have any leads, and she hoped we might have gotten something from NIS to point her in the right direction. She's also probably bugged this suite so keep in mind they're likely listening right now."
"Agreed," Murph said. "She seemed genuinely agitated, but she's so far removed from humanity and part machine now to the point I'm not sure she even has real emotions. That flirty act she uses is something she uses like a weapon."
The conversation died off as Mettler came back into the main room trailed by two med techs from Pinnacle Services, a private company that handled all the hospitality and public services for the upper decks of the station. They came over and scanned Jacob's neural implant so it could tell them his species and pertinent medical information. Humans were now officially in the Master Species Database, so the staff on Pinnacle could effectively treat him, although most of what they did was pump him full of medical nanobots and slave them to his neural implant. With the wide availability of the miraculous little machines, this was the standard treatment for nearly every species and most afflictions.
Once Mettler paid the med techs and hustled them out of the suite, the energy seemed to be sucked out of the group. Jacob's eyes drooped as the meds kicked in, and the rest of his team, not able to freely discuss the mission, stared off into space. Jacob felt a bit lost, and it wasn't just because of the meds casting a fog over his brain. This mission had seemed fairly straight forward: go get a likely location from their contact, lay eyes on the Eagle's Talon, call in the cavalry, then go home. He needed to talk to someone back on Taurus Station, but Webb had him so paranoid about spies and traitors that calling the 3rd Scout Corps Operations Center was iffy. Fleet OPS was out of the question. Even NAVSOC HQ had lots of eyes around that could intercept any message he tried to get to Webb.
"We'll talk to Big Boss tomorrow when we can get a secure slip-com node," Murph said, using their nickname for Captain Webb. Little Boss was the name of Commander John Toma, 3rd Scout Corps' commanding officer.
"Agreed," Jacob slurred. "Everyone, get some rack time. We'll try to get out of here as early as possible. Taylor, did you talk to the crew lead working on the ship about that thing?"
"Huh? Oh! Yeah. He said he found three and removed them," Taylor said. "The ship should be ready soon."
"Good. We need to get out of here ASAP." Jacob struggled to his feet. "Lots of unfriendly people about. Crash out, boys. One person on watch, three-hour shifts, fight amongst yourselves on who goes first."
They were still arguing by the time he reached the master bedroom and flopped onto the soft mattress.
11
"We good?"
"This settles the account, sir," the crew boss said. "And I thank you for the generous bonus for me and my crew…I promise you won't be disappointed with our work."
"I'm sure I won't," Jacob said, handing over yet another credit chit. "And this is to help you and your people forget you ever saw us." When the boss squeezed the chit to activate the display and see how many credits had been loaded onto it, his eyes widened.
"Consider yourself forgotten, good sir. Your hangar fees are paid for the next six rotations so you and your crew can depart at your leisure."
"My thanks," Jacob said. The rest of the crew climbed all over the dilapidated Eshquarian combat shuttle, inspecting all the work that had been done. They'd paid to get the major problems worked out, but the ship was far from what Sully would consider mission capable, or even completely safe. More than money, the problem was time. To properly refurbish the shuttle to even the bare minimum of UEN safety specs, it'd have to be almost completely dismantled and rebuilt with fresh components. NAVSOC was given a lot of leeway in this area, and Jacob was able to ignore most of what would get a Naval vessel decommissioned and focus on all of the safety of flight issues.
"They didn't bother blending these patches into the rest of the hull, but everything looks solid," Sully said when he walked up. "All of the system work they did appears to be up to snuff, too. Taylor and I just ran a full onboard diagnostic, and short of firing up the slip-drive inside the hangar, it looks like most of the major issues have been addressed. She's also been fully serviced and provisioned like you requested."
"So, we're all dressed up with nowhere to go," Jacob said.
"Huh?"
"The ships ready, we're ready, but we don't have a destination or a target," Jacob said. "Hopefully, our pending meeting with the guild master will kick up something. Is there power on the ship? I'd like to use the com room aboard her rather than one of the disgusting public booths."
"She's on dock power." Sully pointed to the thick, multi-conductor cable that snaked across the deck and plugged into the ship near the port engine nacelle. "Slip-com node is already powered up from the testing we did."
"Thanks."
Jacob walked around the ship once, checking all the work he could see from the hangar deck. The shuttle was surprisingly large on the outside given how cramped it felt on the inside. He saw a new section of hull patching that covered where the new slip-com array would sit. The newer slip-com systems had field generators, which were miniaturized and built into the node, but this ship still had the older array that needed space away from the interference of all the other running avionic systems.
Inside the cargo bay, his Marines inventoried all the gear to make sure the repair crew hadn't helped themselves to anything. The armory was locked up tight and still secure, but the rest of their gear was in transit crates strapped down in the hold with cargo nets. If they were missing anything, it'd be better to find out before they left.
"LT," Mettler nodded to him. "You're looking better."
"Well, that's good because I still feel like shit," Jacob said. "Once you're done in here, go ahead and get set up for a trip back down to the lower levels. I'm going to check in, and then we'll be ready to head down and try to salvage this mess."
Jacob left them to their work and slipped into the cramped com room, a secure little alcove with only room to stand and face the terminals. He slid the hatch closed, the anti-snooping countermeasures activating automatically once he flipped the switch to lock it. The first address he entered into the terminal once the node booted up and stabilized was for a dead-drop message box he and Webb had set up as a way to bypass the normal channels. He didn't expect anything to be there, so he was surprised when he saw two
new messages, one from Webb, the other from his aide, Lieutenant Bennet.
He read through Bennet's first and all it said was that Captain Webb was relocating his operations temporarily to the Kentucky, his preferred C&C ship, and that Big Boss wanted to be briefed personally on what in the hell they'd been up to. The next message, from Webb, was actually a set of orders canceling his current mission and recalling him to Taurus Station. He frowned as he read the new orders, confused as to what might have changed.
Part of him was secretly relieved they were being recalled back to Terranovus, where someone else would be put in command of Obsidian. The other part of him was disgusted by his relief at being able to shirk his duty. He read through the message again, and there was little ambiguity to it; come home, regroup, reorganize, and live to fight another day. Reading between the lines and knowing Captain Webb somewhat on a personal level, he also took the message to mean he may have lost his commanding officer's confidence. Letting Obsidian stumble around blindly in the wilds while a civil war between ancient intergalactic superpowers was brewing could be just as dangerous as Edgars keeping the Eagle's Talon attached to a rogue Cridal strike force.
After taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he reached for the encrypted tablet Taylor had put in the alcove. After logging in, he searched for the address for the Kentucky's com section and punched it into the node terminal, waiting as two ends negotiated a connection so the encryption routines could do the same. It was almost ninety seconds later before the bored face of a specialist first class resolved on the screen.
"Code in," she said.
"Obsidian Actual, bravo sierra six one eight kilo."
"Current status."
"Dixie Romeo," Jacob said, using the code phrase to let the operator know he wasn't under duress and the call wasn't an emergency.
"Standby," she said, and the screen went black. When it flicked back on, it wasn't the bored com tech staring back at him.
"Brown! Where the hell have you been?!"
"Sir!" Jacob barked, startled. He jumped and stood at attention, banging his head on the curved ceiling of the cramped alcove. "We've not had a functional slip-com node since halfway to our first waypoint. We've just gotten the ship spaceworthy again, and this was my first chance to contact you directly."
"Where are you?" Captain Webb asked.
"Pinnacle Station, sir."
"Why? What happened to the ship?"
"Secondary fuel manifold blew a fitting and jettisoned most of our fuel. Pinnacle was the closest place we could safely reach to effect repairs," Jacob said. "While here, Murph and I had a plan on how to use our ship's former ownership as inroads to tracking down the Talon. I've only just now read your orders calling us off the hunt."
"You are such a pain in the ass, Brown," Webb sighed. "I'd love to make you suffer for it, but most of the time it's legitimately not your fault."
"Thank you, sir."
"Shut the hell up."
"Yes, sir."
Webb looked off-screen for a moment, seeming to be typing on a terminal at his desk, completely ignoring Jacob. This went on for the next five minutes or so. Jacob simply stood there and said nothing. If the military had given him one useful skill in life, it was the ability to wait around for no reason at all without knowing how long he might be there.
"Are you standing at attention?" Webb finally asked.
"Uh, yes, sir."
"Good. Stay like that." Webb plinked away on his terminal, again ignoring Jacob for the better part of ten minutes before turning back to the camera.
"Tell me your idea on how you're going to find the Talon, and then I'll let you know if I'm still scrubbing your mission or not."
Jacob filled him in on his theory that the fleet might run to the Saabror Protectorate to hide since ConFed Intelligence couldn't easily operate there. Webb remained a statue as he explained how he was going to use his Blazing Sun marker to try and get a smuggling load into the Protectorate, and then, once past their border fleet, go snoop around a few places their database indicated might be interesting.
"What you lack in brains you make up for in grit and ambition, I'll give you Obsidian boys that much," Webb said after Jacob had wrapped up his brief. "So, what was your plan if Saabror Security caught you actually smuggling something into their territory?"
"We didn't really have a plan per se—"
"Do you idiots even know how big the Protectorate is? You were just going to fly about randomly and ask the locals if they'd seen a big shiny UEN ship?"
"That wasn't exactly what we were going to do. This plan is still evolving—"
"Let me help you out," Webb said. "Your idea about the Protectorate is a good one, but you don't have the resources to pull it off. More importantly, we already know they're not there. The Zadra Network has come through, and we've received positive confirmation on one of the Cridal frigates when it flew too close to Colton Hub on their way out of ConFed space. We can reasonably assume the Talon will still be with Kellea Colleran's formation.
"The smuggling angle is interesting but dangerous. We give Scout Fleet a lot of rope to hang themselves with, so be very careful about using legitimately illegal enterprise as cover. UEAS Command has been known to come down on NAVSOC crews for infractions even when it was in the service of the greater good."
"I understand, sir."
"No, I don't think you do. Listen to me harder than you've ever listened to anything in your life, Lieutenant. Be. Very. Careful," Webb annunciated each word as he leaned into the camera. "Am I clear?"
"Crystal, sir. Does this mean we're back on mission?"
"I'm sending the data dump now," Webb said. "I'm already moving forces out in the direction of the Cridal ship sighting so they'll be ready to move when you lay eyes on the Talon. I'm putting an insane amount of trust in your judgement and ability to operate beyond the bounds of your experience and training, so don't screw me over, Lieutenant. If you feel like you're in over your head, pull the plug and bring it home…no recriminations."
"Aye, sir."
"I'm going to keep Diamond out near the Cluster as a contingency in case the frigate sighting was a ruse or the ship wasn't part of the larger fleet," Webb said. "Good luck."
"Yes, sir. Obsidian, out."
He had an odd relationship with Captain Webb thanks to the connection the NAVSOC commander had with Jason Burke. Normally, some pissant lieutenant wouldn't be calling a captain for something as mundane as a mission report, but Webb had taken special interest in him given who his father was, and the fact Obsidian had taken a beating from the time he'd been assigned to the team. He took Webb's overly-military way of speaking to him as a sign of affection from a man who wasn't comfortable with telling a subordinate he gave a damn if he lived or died.
After shutting down the node, Jacob leaned back against the bulkhead, blowing out a huge breath that was part exasperation, part relief. He was still on mission…yay! Also, he was still on mission…goddamnit! When he secured all the equipment and left the alcove, his mood worsened when he saw who stood at the base of the ramp.
"Whitney?!" he yelled in exasperation. "What the hell do you want this time?"
"Lieutenant Brown," the Viper said, looking mildly embarrassed for being there. "I have had a change of heart. Perhaps we might work together since our goals happen to align right now."
"In other words, Hollick escaped, and now you're back to not having a clue where to find your target," Jacob said. "Or—and this is equally plausible—you do have a location but need us to serve as a distraction and/or cannon fodder. Right?"
"You're correct in the first part, not even close with the second," Whitney said. "I'm not sure what you've heard about me, Lieutenant, but I work with care and precision. The only people who need be afraid are my targets. I don't put people in harm's way, and I don't abide collateral damage."
"What's your proposal?"
"Just an information swap," Whitney said. "No need to fly together. In fact, it'
d be better if we didn't."
"But if you don't know anything, what do I get out of this?" Jacob asked.
"I never said I didn't know anything, I just said I needed a location."
The pair stared each other down for another few seconds while Jacob chewed through the problem in his mind. Sharing classified intel with the notorious assassin—or whatever she was pretending to be—was out of the question, but perhaps he could nudge her in the right direction if she was able to give him something useful in return. The data dump that Captain Webb had promised hadn't arrived yet, so he had precious little to offer in any case.
"I might have a general area that would help you start your search," he said finally. "What do you have in exchange?"
"For that bit of intel, I could possibly give you the exact composition of the insurrectionist fleet," she countered. "With that, you'll be able to tailor your approach when trying to recover your ship." Jacob pretended to think about it, but she had him. Knowing exactly the classes and numbers of the ships their QRF would be facing once he gave them the Talon's location was crucial information. It would allow the Navy to prep the force, and then refine it once he confirmed the information himself.
"One of the ships was spotted near Colton Hub when it flew too close to the station," Jacob said, putting on a show of giving it reluctantly.
"The Hub," Whitney murmured. "Interesting."
"How so?" Jacob asked.
"It's not important," she said, tossing him a datacard. "It's all on there."
"You were just carrying this around?"
"Let's just say I had faith in your good judgement," she said, winking. Jacob could only laugh at how easily she'd played him.
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