Prison Ship

by Michael Bowers

Tramer’s human eye found Steiner. “Would they have listened to me?”

  “You could have shown them the data.”

  “The military information came from one of Barker’s superiors. If I’d tried to expose their operation, I would have been silenced and the data, destroyed. My only choice was to eliminate Barker and prevent his superior from making further attempts at smuggling the information.”

  “Further attempts?” Steiner repeated. “So you thought I was part of this operation?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that why you watched me all the time?”

  “Yes.”

  “What changed your mind about me?”

  “The raid of Hurot IV.”

  Steiner kept the launcher pointed at Tramer as he considered what he had just heard. If it was true, it explained Tramer’s behavior toward him throughout the voyage. A spy ring would also account for the U.S.S. doing so poorly in the war. But it still wasn’t enough to convince him.

  “Do you have any evidence left?” he asked.

  “No,” Tramer replied. “I was forced to destroy it for fear that Barker’s superior would have found another way to send it out.”

  “Do you have any idea who this superior is?”

  “I have a theory.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I believe the P.A.V. program was created for the sole purpose of conducting espionage. The admiral on the Council in charge of—”

  “Jamison?” Steiner asked.

  “Yes. Admiral Ralph Jamison.”

  Chills resonated through Steiner’s bones at the mention of the name. He lowered the missile launcher. “I believe you.”

  “Thank you.” Tramer turned and walked to the door. His torso pivoted around to face Steiner. “Captain, I’m also glad that you are still the same man I knew long ago.”

  Steiner nodded.

  After Tramer left the landing bay, Steiner put the missile launcher on the ground. His hands were shaking with the possibility of what he might have done.

  He crawled up into the seat of the TRAC, laid his head on the console, and tried to calm himself. What he had expected to be a final bloody stand had turned out to be a startling revelation that he could use to finally avenge McKillip’s death. He couldn’t wait to bring all of this out at Jamison’s tribunal. It wouldn’t take much effort for the authorities to dig around in the admiral’s past and uncover evidence that linked him to the Separatist Empire.

  When he met with Cole, he would tell him of the espionage plot without mentioning Tramer’s involvement. The weapons officer would surely be executed for the murder of Barker regardless of his reasons. He didn’t deserve such a fate, especially after what Steiner had learned.

  An hour and a half later, Tramer announced over Steiner’s comlink that the Marauder was approaching the rendezvous point.

  Three U.S.S. destroyers had gathered around the flagship, the Magellan. After receiving transmission of the password, Cole instructed them to dock with the Magellan.

  When Steiner arrived at the port-side air lock, he found J.R. and Spider lowering Pattie’s gurney down the ramp onto the landing of the air lock. Mason and Sam leaned against the storage locker of space suits.

  “Did both of you come to say good-bye to Pattie?” Steiner asked.

  “Not really,” Mason replied. “I’ve got a bit of morbid curiosity about something else.”

  “He thinks it’s the same ship that captured him,” Sam explained.

  “Slugger,” Pattie’s voice called softly.

  Steiner smiled at both engineers, then moved closer to the patient lying between them on the gurney. “How are you feeling today?”

  “I can’t wait to get my fists into you.”

  Steiner laughed. “And I can’t wait to see you try.”

  Pattie chuckled.

  A hiss of pressure indicated that the Magellan had opened its air lock.

  Steiner entered into the control panel the sequence to open their end.

  Before the door had finished moving aside, a company of heavily armed soldiers burst through the entry. They formed a perimeter around the hatch, training their weapons on Steiner and his shipmates. The hateful looks of the gunmen testified that they wouldn’t hesitate to kill everyone at a single command.

  “It’s them all right,” Mason whispered to Sam.

  A figure strode through the assembled soldiers. Judging from the medals that decorated the man’s uniform, he must have been the Magellan’s Executive Officer. He stopped directly in front of Steiner and eyed him with distaste.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Steiner shouted.

  “Are you the convict in charge of the P.A.V.?” the XO asked.

  Steiner clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. “I am the captain of the U.S.S. Marauder.”

  The man grinned. “Murderers, rapists, and thieves don’t deserve any title.”

  “You’re lucky I am lyin’ down, you bastard,” Pattie mumbled.

  Steiner bit his lip to keep himself from reacting.

  “Captain, surrender your weapon to me,” the Executive Officer shouted.

  “Call off your troops first,” Steiner replied. “We’re on the same side.”

  “I won’t tolerate any more insubordination.”

  “What about common courtesy?”

  The man’s head turned back to his men. “At the next word from his mouth, open fire.”

  Steiner’s breath caught in his lungs. He glanced at Mason and Sam then at J.R. and Spider, carrying Pattie’s gurney. Slowly, he lifted his pistol from its holster. The soldiers surrounding the hatch tensed as he handed it to their leader.

  “We are already late,” the XO said as he wheeled about to leave. “Follow me.”

  “What about the injured man you are to take on board?”

  “I am to bring you to the commodore, before anything else.”

  With forced steps, Steiner followed the man through the fan of soldiers into the plush-carpeted corridors of the Magellan . One of the gunmen broke ranks and trailed behind him with a pointed rifle muzzle.

  The fresh scent of the air gave evidence that this was the flagship, elite and elegant in every detail. Under normal conditions, Steiner would have been impressed by the Magellan ’s interior, but now, it only reminded him of the respect that had been stolen from him and his crew.

  The Executive Officer directed Steiner through a doorway into a massive chamber with a high ceiling. Three other captains, two men and a woman, sat around an oval table that occupied the center of the room. David Cole stood at the head of the table.

  “Welcome, Captain Steiner,” Cole said. “It’s good to see you again. The last time—I believe—was at McKillip’s funeral.”

  “Yes, sir. What about the injured man I told you about?”

  Cole shifted his gaze to the man who had escorted Steiner. “Commander Cromwell, please make sure the fallen hero is taken to our infirmary immediately.”

  “Yes, sir,” Cromwell answered, saluting in respect. He departed, closing the door behind him.

  “Please have a seat, Captain.” Cole beckoned to an empty chair at the far side of the oval table. “Then we will begin.”

  “I wish to first address how I was greeted.”

  “I’m sorry, Captain, but our time together is short. I would be happy to confer with you after the meeting.”

  Steiner nodded and took the remaining seat at the table. As he did so, he scanned the faces of the three other captains in the room. He recognized two of them from his days aboard the Valiant. They glared openly at him with the same contempt Cromwell had exhibited. He expected their attitudes would change once they learned of his extraordinary accomplishments.

  Cole pressed a keypad on the table. The lights dimmed. A holographic chart of the colonized galactic region appeared on a far wall. A red, illuminated line ran down the middle, designating the border between the U.S.S. and Separatist territories. Blue dots dotted the map on the U.S.S.
side, representing the positions of all their warships.

  “As you can see, our forces are dwindling along the border in the northern area,” Cole told everyone. “From my estimates, we can’t hold it much longer. If we lose it, we will eventually lose the war. Therefore, it’s essential for our defense to protect it at all costs. Too many planets and resources that are vital for our survival are located there.”

  Cole sat back down in his chair. “I informed Admiral Barton on the War Council of the severity of the situation, and he has authorized me to proceed as I see fit.” With the press of another keypad in front of him, the holographic image zoomed in on the top section of the map. “After studying the information that Captain Steiner and his crew obtained from Hurot IV, I have discovered that the Separatists are planning to sweep through the northern area.” The holograph closed in on a single planet just inside the Separatist border. “An enemy base has been constructed on the planet Macrales, capable of outfitting battlecruisers for their invasion.”

  Whispers of horror rose from around the table.

  “If such a plan were initiated, the area would certainly fall,” Cole said. “Something must be done about it soon, before the Separatists have the time to reinforce their troops.”

  The other captains vocalized their agreement.

  Steiner’s blood ran cold. He hadn’t been asked here to be honored.

  “This is my plan,” Cole said. “The Manhattan, the Excalibur , and the Magellan will be stationed at sector 798. Meanwhile, the Freedom and the P.A.V. will be positioned farther down the border.”

  “Excuse me, sir,” Steiner said.

  “Do you have something to add, Captain Steiner?” Cole asked.

  “My vessel is a thirty-year-old Peacemaker. It would be useless in an engagement.”

  “We won’t need you for the offensive. The P.A.V. and the Freedom will be the decoys.”

  “Decoys,” Steiner exclaimed before he could stop himself. “Surely there’s another destroyer or assault cruiser that can take our place?”

  Cole shook his head. “I’m sure you remember from your days aboard the Valiant that immediacy is the key to victory. We can’t afford to wait for one to arrive. I haven’t even had the time to inform the Council of my plan.”

  “I see no hope of my ship surviving a run through enemy territory,” Steiner said.

  “Then you have to ask yourself what is more important, one ship or the entire civilization it protects?”

  Steiner couldn’t answer. The United Star Systems represented the only form of democracy in the galaxy. It couldn’t be allowed to fall, even if it cost his life and those of his crew.

  Cole finished the briefing, then brought up the lights in the conference room. Steiner remained in his seat while the other captains left. After saying good-bye to everyone else, Cole sat next to him.

  Steiner met the commodore’s gaze. “The information my crew fought to obtain signed their own death warrants.”

  Cole shrugged. “If there were any other way, I would do it.”

  Steiner turned away. “My men will not be so easily convinced to join in this mission. They may try to mutiny just to save their skins.”

  “You will find a way to keep them from doing so—of that I am sure. For many years now, I have admired your abilities as a leader.”

  “If that’s true, why wasn’t I given any respect when I arrived?”

  “I can’t be held responsible for what everyone else thinks of you. To most people, you are an ordinary convict in charge of a prison ship.” Cole leaned closer. “I know differently. When you served under McKillip, you might have been one of the best Executive Officers in the fleet, but you lost that respect when you attacked Admiral Jamison.”

  “He murdered McKillip,” Steiner exclaimed.

  “Why do you believe that?”

  Steiner gave a detailed account of his last meeting with McKillip before the Valiant’s fatal mission. He also told Cole that the secret McKillip had been murdered to protect was that Jamison was a spy for the Separatist Empire.

  Cole considered all that he had heard for a moment. “Do you have any proof that Jamison is a spy?”

  “My weapons officer, Maxwell Tramer, observed his involvement in a plot to smuggle U.S.S. military information to the enemy.”

  Cole’s brow creased. “I cannot help you.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not about to create an uproar among the Council members—not on the word of Maxwell Tramer.”

  “You know him?”

  “Of course. The so-called Killer Cyborg murdered two of my crewmen when one of them made a comment about his former wife. The cyborg snapped both men’s spinal cords in half. I suggest you be wary of what it says to you. It may be your spinal cord next time.”

  Steiner sat there, dumbfounded. He could almost hear himself echoing those same words to Suzanne when he first took command of the P.A.V.

  “Don’t discount him as easily as I did,” he said. “He’s still the same man you served with. Talk to him. You’ll see—”

  “That’s enough, Captain,” Cole scolded. “You didn’t have to face the families of those two innocent men. The Maxwell Tramer I knew would never have done such a thing. As far as I’m concerned, he died in that explosion seven years ago.” Cole stood up from the table. “I will always respect his memory.” Cole saluted him. “I wish you luck in your mission, Captain.”

  Steiner returned the gesture, but only out of duty. He stood up and walked out the door. Cromwell and the gunman met him outside in the corridor and led him back to the Marauder. Steiner wondered how he would inform his crew that they were to be the sacrificial pawns in a giant chess game to win the galaxy.

  CHAPTER 16

  “WE’VE been ordered to participate in a military offensive,” Steiner said to his officers after they had assembled around a table in the cafeteria.

  Bricket shook his head and grumbled. A frown creased Daniels’s otherwise-serene face. Mason scowled. Curses erupted from Palmer and Sanchez. Tramer stood quietly at the end of the table, showing no emotion whatsoever.

  “I don’t like this any more than the rest of you,” Steiner told them all. “The commodore has organized an assault against an enemy base under construction on Macrales that would threaten the future of the United Star Systems. Our mission is to draw off any ships guarding that planet.”

  “That’s insane,” Mason shouted. “This bucket doesn’t stand a chance against any vessel in the Separatist fleet.”

  Sanchez jumped up from his seat, raising his fist. “We’re prisoners—not martyrs.”

  “That’s right,” Palmer joined in. “Tell the commodore to go to—”

  Tramer stepped forward, intimidating them both into silence. Sanchez eased himself back into his chair.

  No one else dared to argue.

  After a few seconds, Steiner continued. “If we don’t participate in this offensive, the Magellan and every other vessel here will destroy us.”

  Sanchez raised his hand. “What if we pretended to cooperate, then fled at the first opportunity?”

  “Or better yet, our engines could suddenly malfunction,” Palmer added.

  “No,” Tramer said with such firmness that he seized everyone’s attention. “If anyone attempts to sabotage the mission, he will deal with me personally.”

  “The rest of us aren’t as eager to die as you are, Cyborg,” Sanchez replied.

  Tramer glared down at the pilot for a long moment.

  “The engines will be working at full capacity,” Daniels said, relieving the tension.

  Steiner knew he could depend on the head engineer’s support, no matter how dangerous their assignments got.

  “Ironhand, you still haven’t told us how we’re going to take on a battlecruiser,” Mason observed.

  “They all have their pulse cannons controlled by computers,” Steiner said, aiming his gaze at Bricket. “What are the odds of disabling them?”

  The bartend
er shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re asking. It would take months to break into a secured system.”

  “We’ll only have a few minutes of contact before they destroy us.”

  Bricket sighed and rubbed his beard. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

  Steiner nodded, then turned his attention to the weapons officer. “Mr. Tramer, conduct several practice simulations with the gunners.”

  “It will be done,” the weapons officer answered.

  Mason raised his hand. “I want to be at the helm during the run. I’ve been outflying Separatist battlecruisers for years. I already know some of their weaknesses.”

  “I’ll take any advantage I can get,” Steiner said. “Sanchez, Palmer, remain on standby during the battle.”

  The two pilots nodded, grumbling to themselves.

  Steiner straightened himself and took a deep breath, hoping to draw encouragement in with it. “Gentlemen, the operation begins at 1800, fifteen minutes from now. Good luck to you all. You’re dismissed.”

  One by one the officers left to prepare their stations for what lay ahead. Steiner looked up at the pale countenance of Tramer. Cole’s warning reran within his mind.

  “Thank you for your support, Maxwell,” Steiner said.

  The weapons officer nodded.

  SAM wrenched the control bar of the flight simulator back, but the computer-generated Stormquest failed to clear the ridge that materialized out of a cloud bank. It disintegrated against the mountainside.

  Not again, he scolded himself.

  He hesitated before restarting the simulation. A greasy film covered the instruments from an hour of being handled by his sweaty hands. Fatigue demanded him to stop, but he refused to give in to it. Ever since his first solo flight in the Stormquest, he had worked harder than ever to improve his piloting skills in the hope he could fly her again.

  He glanced about the empty computer room and wondered why Bricket had been called away so suddenly. Several of the terminals chirped softly as if calling out for their master.

  Just then, Bricket hobbled into the room, muttering about something being impossible to accomplish. Overwhelmed with curiosity and anxious to be free of the simulator for a while, Sam climbed out of his seat.