“Feel better getting it out of your system?” she asked.
“Much. Tell me you don't feel the same way.”
“I wish I could.” She sighed, then said, “If I thought it would do any good, I'd lead the boarding parties myself. I owe Cooper and Bradley my life, several times over.”
The doors slid open, and they walked out onto the deck, Sub-Lieutenant Foster snapping to attention as they approached. Nelyubov waited at the elevator, shook his head, then followed as she walked towards the waiting shuttle. Corporal Walpis was standing next to the hatch, tugging on a badly-fitting jumpsuit of indeterminate origin.
“All ready, ma'am. I've got a Republic communicator hidden in a false pocket, but that's about all.”
“Republic?” Nelyubov asked.
“Lieutenant Cantrell's idea, sir. She thought it would be more likely to escape detection and jamming. They might have had plenty of chances to take a look at our kit, but they've yet to meet any of the other interstellar governments.”
“Good thinking,” she said.
Nelyubov stepped over to him, and said, “Corporal, you are aware of the risks you are running? That in the event something goes wrong, the odds of us being able to get you back will be low at best.”
“I know all that, sir. Sergeant Gurung made it quite clear what was at stake. If it means getting Ensign Cooper back, I'm willing to take the risk.”
“Pre-flight is ready, ma'am,” Foster volunteered. “We have clearance for launch at our discretion.”
“You take her,” Orlova said. “We'd better make this look good.”
“Be careful, Captain,” Nelyubov said as she climbed aboard, following Walpis. “If anything goes wrong, I'll send in the cavalry.”
“See that you do.”
She stepped into the cabin, Walpis moving to the rear, close to the emergency hatch on the floor, and took a position by the window. As the shuttle dropped down through the airlock, she pulled out a datapad and started to skim through the scanty information they had. Numerous failed attempts to contact Cooper or Bradley in the last few hours, no knowledge of their location, no details on their investigation.
The engine roared, and she looked out of the window at the hulk, the gaping hole over their primary fuel tank gouged out of the lower section, tiny figures moving about, fitting temporary patches and sealant. Enough that they might at least limp home, though it would be hard to avoid some leakage. That sabotage meant that Ausori's days as a starship were numbered.
Assuming Daedalus managed to get back with the fuel they needed. They'd be more than halfway there by now. With almost no useful information about what they would find when they arrived.
Smoothly, Foster guided the shuttle towards the named docking port, well away from the populated areas of the ship. A tinge of paranoia grabbed at her, and she looked down at her pistol, resting comfortably in its holster. She wasn't worried for herself, not at all, but the consequences of anything going wrong were dreadful. The Confederation had enough enemies lurking out here in the dark, without adding any more to the roster.
With a loud clang, the shuttle locked itself in position, and Orlova stepped to the door while Walpis ducked into the escape hatch, out of sight. The hatch swung open, Ghewon on the far side, flanked by Kelot and a pair of uniformed Neander, both of them carrying rifles.
“I see you picked the most deserted spot you could find,” she said, stepping out onto the deck.
“Not only do I believe it better that few people know of your visit, this is the nearest docking port to the site of Ensign Cooper's disappearance.”
Kelot shook his head, and said, “I can't believe he was here to spy on us.”
“To find out who was betraying your people to their enemies,” Orlova said.
“It seems he was successful in that,” one of the riflemen said. “My name is Morigna. I was with your people before they were captured.” She shook her head, and said, “He was so insistent on investigating the lower levels without me. Ordered me away from the crime scene. As though he had something to hide.”
“What are you implying?” Foster asked, stepping out of the airlock.
Turning to her, his eyes wide, Kelot said, “I fought beside that man as he risked his life to save our people on the surface, while you were sitting on your backside up here. He is no traitor.”
“I'm not making any accusations,” Morigna said, shrinking back. “All I'm saying is that it seemed suspicious.”
“Shall we get on with this?” Ghewon asked. “I've arranged for a guard on the shuttle.”
“Good,” she replied, cursing inside, as she and Foster followed the others down the corridor. Morigna was silent, exchanging occasional glances with Ghewon, while Kelot led the way, pistol in hand. Even in this area of the ship, she would have expected to see someone, technicians repairing the obvious damage, refugees making their way around, but they reached the barracks without spotting a soul.
“In here,” Ghewon said, stepping through.
“Who lives here?” Foster asked.
“Maintenance technicians. All of them have been dispersed to other parts of the ship, and their movements are being monitored,” Morigna said. “We are taking steps to find your people, Captain.”
“Blood,” Foster said, kneeling on the floor. She pulled out a testing kit, and after a moment, said, “Bradley's. Not that much of it, maybe a minor wound.”
“More traces here,” Kelot said, standing by the door. “There was nothing about this in the report.”
“Maybe they missed it,” Ghewon said, shrugging.
“Or maybe your conspiracy has reached the forensic team,” Orlova replied.
“Impossible,” he said. “All of them are Starborn. Experts. Their loyalty is beyond question.”
“But not their competence,” Foster said. “We need to investigate this further, Captain.”
“We cannot waste any more time on theories that cannot possibly be proven. There is a conspiracy among the lower orders on this ship, and as distasteful as it seems, some of our people must be working with the enemy.” Ghewon shook his head, and said, “They will be dealt with, Captain. I assure you of that. Your people will be avenged.”
“I'm not convinced they are dead,” Foster said. “Why kill them?”
“Perhaps they found the traitors here,” Morigna suggested. “It was more than half an hour before we came looking for them. More than enough time for the bodies to be disposed of, the evidence removed.”
Looking up, Foster said, “Captain, I can have a full forensic team over here in ten minutes. We've got all of the equipment we need ready to go.”
“I forbid it,” Ghewon replied. “I think we've tolerated enough for now. You might bluster on your bridge, Captain, but we both know that you aren't planning on leaving while there is a chance your people are still alive.”
“What are you trying to hide?” Foster asked.
“That's an excellent question,” Kelot said. “I can guarantee a cordon that will prevent anyone from even knowing they were here.”
“I can have them in and out in less than an hour.”
“Captain Ghewon has made his position clear,” Morigna said. “I believe we have already been more than cooperative, and I can't see the point in repeating tests we have already completed.”
“Tests so badly conducted that they missed smears of blood on the floor,” Orlova raged, her patience finally exhausted. “There are exactly two possibilities, Ghewon. Whoever conducted the investigation of this room is either incompetent or a traitor. Which is it?”
Before Ghewon could reply, Kelot's communicator chirped, and the soldier raised it to his ear, shaking his head as he received his report.
“What is it?” Ghewon asked, seizing the distraction.
“A report from Perimeter Security. The guard outside the
shuttle has been found unconscious. Tranquilized, apparently. There's no sign of sabotage. Everything appears exactly as it was left.”
Shaking his head, Ghewon said, “They know you are here, Captain. I think it's time for you to leave.”
“How's the guard?” Orlova asked.
“Already coming around,” Kelot replied, “and thank you for asking.” He shot a glare at Ghewon, before continuing, “He felt a brief pressure on the back of the neck, and remembered nothing more until he was found.”
“If the people know you are here...”
“We're leaving, Ghewon. I expect hourly reports on the progress of the investigation.”
“It isn't my job...”
“I'll see to that,” Morigna said, extending her arm to the door. “I will also arrange for a repeat of the forensic tests. It occurs to me that your crewman might have returned here after the first check.”
“Without being seen by the guards?” Kelot asked, shaking his head. “Not likely.”
“Anything is possible.”
“Come on,” the gruff Kelot said. “I'll walk you back to your shuttle. There's a three-man guard keeping an eye on it. I'd recommend conducting a full systems check before you leave.”
“I was planning to,” Orlova said, following the soldier from the room, leaving Ghewon muttering to Morigna as they left. The trio quietly made their way back to the shuttle, this time passing a few obvious guards, all of them saluting Kelot as he walked past them in what looked suspiciously like Triplanetary practice. Outside the shuttle lock, three guards stood at parade rest, rifles at the ready.
“Mind if I come in and take a look?” Kelot asked, in a tone that suggested he was not making a request. At Orlova's curt nod, he stepped into the passenger cabin, loitering by the door controls and locking the hatch shut as the others boarded the craft.
“You can cut the pretense, Captain,” he said. “One of your people, a Neander, is on board.”
“That would be…,” she began, before shaking her head. “No, you're right. I knew that Ghewon wouldn't allow a proper search. This way I have someone I trust looking for Cooper and Bradley, and I'm afraid that's all I'm going to tell you.”
“Are you going to tell Ghewon?” Foster asked.
“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “I don't trust that snake as far as I could throw him. Morcos and Aussketi are right about him. There's nothing worse than a weak man trying to be strong, especially one in command. If it was a normal cruise it wouldn't matter, but there are a lot of lives at stake.”
“I agree.”
Taking a deep breath, he said, “I owe Cooper my life. I'll do my best to find him, and get him back to Alamo without drawing any attention. You have my word on that.” Looking at the hatch, he added, “The last thing we need right now are more enemies.”
“I was thinking the same thing on the ride over,” Orlova said.
“Well, whatever happens, I'm not one of them, and I can assure you that neither I or any of the men under my command will obey any order to attack your ship.”
“It's gone that far?”
“Possibly. There's certainly some agitation, though it isn't as bad as Ghewon's claiming. All I know is that someone is stirring the pot, and Ghewon's too busy playing political games to deal with it. I guess it's left to the infantry.”
“If there's anything we can do to help,” Orlova began, but he shook his head.
“Don't take this the wrong way, but you people stand out like a beacon over here. We'll handle it. Somehow.” He snapped a salute, then said, “I'd better get back out there before someone notices where I am.”
Returning the salute, Orlova said, “Good luck, Kelot.”
“To both of us.”
Chapter 8
Harper sat in her command chair, looking around the bridge as she waited for Daedalus to emerge from hendecaspace. Midshipman Maqua had the helm, with Salazar peering over his shoulder, periodically making suggestions and orders to smooth their passage into normal space, while Sub-Lieutenant Scott rode shotgun at Tactical, bringing the ship to a combat stance. They all hoped that Testament Station would prove to be a safe harbor, but long experience had warned Harper never to enter a new system without weapons at the ready.
Not that they had many options. Their ship had enough fuel for two jumps, one out to the station and one right back. Even without the sabotage to Ausori, they would have been in trouble. Everything was riding on success here, and that all of that depended on what she did sat on her shoulders like a hundred crushing lead weights.
As though reading her mind, Salazar turned and flashed her a reassuring smile, before returning to the helm. They weren't in any real danger, not seriously. Daedalus was fast and agile, enough to get out of the way of any conceivable threat they might face ahead. Short of a full Xandari fleet in battle formation.
“Emergence in sixty seconds,” Maqua said.
“Very good, Midshipman. You have the call.” The words came easily, probably because they weren't hers. Time and time again, sitting on Alamo's bridge, she'd heard Captain Marshall or Captain Orlova give those words, nonchalantly ordering the duty helmsman to rip a hole in the fabric of the universe and send the ship hurtling through. The enormity of what they were doing had never occurred to her before.
Sixty seconds. Sixty little eternities for her to live through. At least the rest of the bridge crew seemed happy enough, working at their stations to get everything ready. She was the only one with nothing to do except sit and weight. For a second, a little voice at the back of her head whispered that this wasn't necessary, that she could turn command over to Salazar, or to Scott. Both of them would be better at it than she was, her doubts warned. They were trained, seasoned officers, ready for this. She was just a hacker with an honorary rank.
“Twenty seconds, ma'am.”
“Sensors, I want a full readout on the system as soon as we emerge.”
“Aye, ma'am,” Spaceman Arkhipov said, running his hands over his controls. All part of the usual, expected script, a litany of orders to issue before they could progress, the words of a prayer to the twin gods of efficiency and caution. Strange that she'd somehow absorbed all of this over the years, that at least on one level she'd been learning how to do this job, if only by observation.
The viewscreen flashed on as the heads-up display flickered into life, bringing up a strategic view of the system ahead, a dozen planets rotating around an orange sun, the image quickly switching its focus onto their target. Long-range observations had given them a reasonable idea of what to expect, but they were about to gather more data on this system in a second than the Confederation had managed in decades.
“Egress!” Maqua yelled, redundantly manipulating the controls a half-second after the computer had already initiated the dimensional transition. The starfield flicked back on the screen, and Harper sat back in her seat, attempting to project a calm placidity she didn't feel.
“Station ahead,” Salazar said, tapping a control to bring up the image. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but it was far larger than anything she'd ever seen before. A station five, six miles long, more than a mile wide, slowly revolving on its axis and festooned with equipment on the outside. Hundreds of ships were docked at the lower level, from small shuttles to ships as large as Alamo, and at the rear, two vessels that had to be of alien origin were moored.
“Nothing in our records,” Scott said. “This is a potential first contact situation.”
“To hell with the potential,” Salazar added. “They're out there.”
“The system's swamped, ma'am,” Arkhipov said. “I'm detecting small installations on every planetary body, none of them of any significant size. Best guess is that they are prospecting stations, though some of them could be for power projection.”
“Or simply to make sure that no one decides to stake a cla
im,” Salazar said.
“More than a thousand ships are in-transit, most of them small.” Shaking his head, Arkhipov added, “Most of them don't match anything in our databanks, ma'am. There are several that I think are derived from United Nations designs, and a couple that could easily be Xandari...”
“Are you sure?” Harper snapped.
“No, ma'am, I'm not.” He looked across, and said, “It's going to take days for me to go through all of the ship designs, and even then, I'm not sure if I can identify most of them.”
Pointing at a pair of long, cylindrical ships, Salazar said, “I don't need detailed analysis to tell me what they are. Size, Spaceman?”
“Assuming they are tankers, sir, one of them would be enough to fill Ausori's tanks with enough to spare for Alamo,” Arkhipov replied.
“Then we've found what we are looking for. Any signals yet, Ingram?”
“There's a navigation beacon by the hendecaspace point, and a lot of comm traffic, but nothing directed at us.” His eyes widened as he said, “The computer has already identified a couple of dozen languages, as well as several civilian and military codes. I've got all of the data going into the translation banks, but realistically...”
“Months of complicated work lie ahead for Alamo's linguistics experts,” Harper finished.
“Unbelievable,” Scott said. “That station could have a million people on it. Easily.”
“It's old, though,” Salazar added. “Power distribution is all over the place. I wouldn't be surprised if only a portion of it is inhabited.” He paused, then said, “The same is probably true of the ships docked at the station. I've taken a look at four of them so far at close magnification, and only one of them appears to be in full working order.”
“Tactical assessment, Scott?” Harper asked.
Glancing at the screen, she replied, “Paper tiger, ma'am. My guess is that we're looking at the trade hub of a fallen empire. This station is strategically positioned, so I can see someone wanting it, but the only military equipment I'm picking up is defensive. Bottom line, I think they could put up a pretty powerful fleet, but they aren't invulnerable.”
Battlecruiser Alamo: Final Testament Page 7