“By giving this to you, the president is also honoring him for his service,” she said. “After all, he is under your command.”
“All the more reason I have to go looking for him right now.”
“No,” she shouted. “You’re not leaving.” She grabbed his arm and started toward the reception but couldn’t move him. “Please, I can’t go in there without you.”
Steiner held her by the shoulders. “You know as well as I do that the longer it takes to find Tramer, the more the risk that someone will discover he’s missing.”
“What am I going to say to the others about their guest of honor’s being absent?”
He struggled and smiled. “I’ve never known you to be at a loss for words. If nothing else, tell them I’ve gone to find the real hero.”
She groaned. “Make sure both of you are on that ship at nine hundred hours, Earthstation time.” She moved forward, kissed him full on the lips, then stormed away into the courtyard without looking back.
Steiner stood in the corridor, stunned.
THREE hours passed before the reception died down enough for Suzanne to excuse herself.
She walked through the deserted hallways of the fifty-second floor of the military headquarters on her way to her office. She hoped to finish composing the orders for Jake’s replacement convicts before the morning’s launch. Questions troubled her mind. How far has Jake traveled by now? Will he find Tramer? Will they return before they are reported missing?
She remembered announcing to all the guests that Jake had left prematurely because of a sudden illness. Just as she had feared, they refocused their attention on her. Never once had she lost her composure even when she thought she would. She smoothly evaded all of their questions, pretending to be ignorant of everything.
She wondered if she might actually be in love with him. When she had served under him aboard the Valiant, she admired him because he was as ambitious as she, but he never stepped on people like she did to move up. She hated to admit it, but she had even used him as a foothold when she asked him to captain the P.A.V. Much to her surprise, he had again succeeded in boosting his career far beyond hers. Maybe she loved him. He had become everything she wished she could be.
At the entrance to her office, she entered the security code in the control panel. Nothing happened. Upon closer examination, she noticed someone had broken the locking mechanism.
Her blood ran cold. Her fingers slipped through the mouth of her purse and tightened around the handle of a miniature pistol. She used a key to pop out the emergency hand crank. Quietly, she pumped the mechanism until the entrance cracked wide enough for her to squeeze through.
Shadows draped the office, but a light showed through the doorway to the back chamber, where she kept her personal computer. The faint rustling of movement sounded from within it. Every muscle in her body stiffened. Her lungs froze in the middle of a breath.
Common sense instructed her to call the security guards before confronting the burglar. But by the time they arrived, the intruder might already be gone. Armed with a gun—regardless of its size—and the element of surprise, she figured she’d be more than a match for one thief.
She stepped gingerly past her desk, keeping her small gun trained on the open doorway. A satchel sat just inside the next chamber with the words COMPUTER MAINTENANCE stenciled on it.
She hesitated for a second, unsure of herself. Could it be? No, certainly not. She knew all of the maintenance staff. None of them would have come there so late, not without getting her permission beforehand.
A series of beeps sounded from her computer, indicating that it had started transmitting data to another console. She jolted slightly when she heard footsteps heading her way. She held her breath. Her trigger finger tensed. A man with black hair tied back in a ponytail appeared in the doorway and bent down to retrieve something from his bag. He froze in mid-motion, his hand still in his satchel, and looked up at her.
“I’m sorry,” he said, adding an innocent smile. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. You must be Suzanne Riggs.”
She kept her pistol pointed at him. “The outside door has been forced open.”
“Yes, I know,” he answered, without moving. “The building’s security guards discovered it as it is. I was called in to repair the damage done by burglars in order to ensure you could use this office tomorrow. Weren’t you informed I was here?” His hand rummaged through the satchel. “I have a work order, if you don’t believe me.”
“Put your hands in the air—now,” she shouted.
The man’s gaze held hers for a split second. Terror squeezed her confidence into mush. The hypnotizing eyes drew her in, seducing her to lower her guard.
With lightning speed, he pulled out a large gun from the bag and aimed it at her. She would have died if it hadn’t been for her reflexes. Without even thinking about it, she shot him, striking him in the chest just as he fired his weapon. His bolt sliced the air just centimeters from her right ear. With a look of shock imprinted on his face, the man fell to the floor.
Her heart racing, Suzanne glanced at the large smoldering hole in the wall behind her. That could have been her head. She nearly lost her balance from the sudden nausea building up inside her.
Gathering up all her remaining courage, she knelt by the fallen man and picked up his weapon. How did an ordinary burglar get an AT-7 past the building’s security checkpoints? She searched inside his pockets for identification but found nothing.
Her personal computer emitted another set of tones. She stepped over the man to examine the glowing screen. Sequences of letters and numbers—the P.A.V.’s passwords—scrolled up as the machine transmitted each code out to another destination.
“Jamison,” she breathed. No one else would have known how to access her files.
Using the command keys, she tried to cut off the transfer, but the program refused to stop before the completion of its task. She grumbled in frustration when she saw that the computer had already sent out the P.A.V.’s recognition code along with the passwords that protected the command center, armory, landing bay, and other high-risk areas. She couldn’t allow it to finish the entire list. It would take days to reprogram them all.
She picked up a chair and smashed it against the console. It flared up in sparks, and the screen went dark. Furious at having to destroy her own terminal, she threw the chair down. Jamison would pay dearly for—
An arm wrapped around her throat, lifting her feet from the ground. She screamed, but only a gurgling noise came out. As she thrashed about, she caught a glimpse of her assailant’s reflection in the dead computer screen. It was the man she had shot.
Gasping for air, she put her feet on the corner of the console and pushed away with all her might. Her attacker slammed into the back wall, but his grip remained firm.
Her vision blurred. The room drifted away. She had only a few precious seconds left to free herself from the death hold.
I’ll stop him,she promised herself. I won’t die.
Then she saw her salvation. The vague form of one of her award statues stood on top of the console. She reached out and took hold of it. With her remaining strength, she thrust the metal pinnacle on top of it into the man’s groin. A shriek of pain followed. The iron grip relaxed enough for her to pry herself free.
Coughing and wheezing, she stumbled into the front office, her muscles weak from the lack of oxygen. The room tilted and spun. Escape looked out of her reach. She screamed with all her might. A blow to the back of her head squelched her cry and sent her sprawling to the floor.
She rolled over, her hands flailing out to ward off an attack. The man drove his knee into her abdomen, driving out her breath. The face looking down at her twisted with rage.
“If you want your trophy so much, I’ll give it to you,” he hissed, reaching for the statue on the ground.
Suzie, don’t ever let people get the advantage over you. Her mother’s voice rang through her head. The harder you figh
t, the farther you’ll go.
“Mother,” she sobbed aloud. “What can I do?”
At that moment, she saw her purse lying a few feet away, the miniature pistol sticking out of its flaps. She reached out and grabbed the small gun. The man raised the statue over his head, with the pinnacle pointed at her. She aimed the weapon at his head, closed her eyes, and fired.
She might have lost consciousness for a second or two, because she had no idea what happened next. She opened her eyes. Her attacker’s body lay across her legs. To her horror, she saw the award statue protruding from a bloody wound in her chest. Pain followed, excruciating in its intensity before mellowing into a warm sensation. Darkness crept in from all sides of her vision. She fought against it. She must warn Steiner of the sabotage. Numbness enveloped her. She heard voices and saw vague forms, surrounding her, but they became less real to her by the second.
“I’m sorry, Jake,” she whispered, then closed her eyes and welcomed the peace of nothingness.
RALPH Jamison stared at his computer screen, expecting more codes to print out, but nothing happened.
“Your man has proven unworthy,” Quinn said, looking over his shoulder.
“He got everything except the pressure-door overrides. You won’t need them if you plan your mutiny right.”
“If someone is onto us—”
“No one knows about you,” Jamison replied, losing his patience. “I’m the only one at risk here.”
“If you are questioned, they might learn of me.”
“Over the years, I’ve made friends within Military Intelligence who will warn me if I’m in danger of being arrested.”
Jamison copied the passwords onto a computer pad and handed it to Quinn.
“Is that cyborg still on board?” Quinn asked as he looked over the list.
“Yes.”
“Can you transfer anyone on board with me?”
“As many people as you need.”
“Just one other. A cyberneticist friend of mine.”
THE New England sky brightened slightly, advertising that dawn had arrived. Gray clouds stretched the horizons, completely masking all but a faint glow of the sun. A light blanket of mist hung across the land, painting everything in dewdrops. Birds danced among the trees, giving praise to the new day. A flash of lightning brightened the haze far to the west.
Steiner maneuvered his rented oversized truck along a seldom-used gravel road, which led to a secluded town. After using public transportation to reach the general vicinity, he had rented a vehicle to approach Tramer from the most secretive angle possible, for fear of bringing attention to himself. Glancing down at the tracker, he located the weapons officer a mile to the north. He parked the vehicle on the shoulder of the deserted road. The rest of the way he would travel on foot. Unstrapping himself from the seat, he stepped out of the truck into the chilled morning air. The scent of the wind promised rain. He zipped up his jacket, folded his arms tightly, and headed off through the damp grass toward Tramer’s last-recorded position.
Steiner found his anxiety over the Marauder’s upcoming departure growing like the humidity in the air. Even though Cole had promised their mission schedules would be lighter, a premonition of disaster during the voyage ahead haunted Steiner’s thoughts. Maybe the guilt, which hung around his neck with the medallion, had induced the terrible feelings. He couldn’t be certain. He looked down at his watch, set for Earthstation time. It told him there were five hours left before the ship was to launch. It had taken him nine hours to find Tramer’s location, even with the aid of the tracker.
When he climbed to the top of a hill, he saw the small town nestled in a valley below. Opening one of the pockets in his jacket, he extracted a pair of high-powered binoculars and made a visual sweep of the area. A wave of relief swept through him when he spotted Tramer, standing amidst a collection of shrubbery outside the town. The inhabitants might not even know he was there.
Steiner descended the hill, entering Tramer’s sensor range. The weapons officer didn’t acknowledge his presence in any way. Steiner stopped outside a gap in the shrubbery.
“Tramer?” he asked.
No response. The faint odor of formaldehyde hung in the humid air.
Steiner forged a path through the prickling branches until he stood next to the metallic body of the weapons officer. The sensor orb cast a blue glaze over the foliage facing the town.
Steiner stood motionless, listening to the respirator on the back of Tramer’s neck cycle air.
Steiner aimed his binoculars through the branches, attempting to focus on whatever Tramer stared at. Figures moved around inside the picture windows of a nearby house. Intensifying the distance ratio of the glasses, he could make out a woman inside, bundling up her two children in warm clothing.
“Is that Candice?” he asked, lowering his binoculars.
A breeze shifted the trees overhead. The rustling leaves nearly overpowered the answer.
“Yes.”
Steiner sighed with joy. Tramer’s response meant that he hadn’t lost his mind. “How did you find her?” he asked.
“Candice’s parents live in this—Wait, they’re leaving now.”
With his binoculars, Steiner watched Candice and the two children emerge from the house. When the older girl glanced in his general direction, he saw a slight resemblance to Tramer—the old Maxwell Tramer.
A man stepped out of the building behind the girl and put his arm around Candice.
Poor Tramer.
Candice must have remarried. That would explain the other child, who didn’t look anything like Tramer. The family climbed into a sedan and drove off into the hazy distance.
Steiner’s throat constricted to the point where he couldn’t even swallow. He couldn’t stop thinking of what it would be like to see Mary with another man, living out her life in fear of him. It would have been unbearable.
The sky darkened.
Servos whined as Tramer’s spiny fingers rose to pinch the stem of a hanging blossom. He plucked the delicate flower and brought it up to his deformed face. The petals changed to a violet hue under the glow of his mechanical eye. “My sensors detect the molecular density of this flower and the dispersal pattern of its pollen, but I can never again savor its aroma.” The blossom floated to the ground. “It is forever lost to me, just like the love of my daughter.”
Thunder echoed off the hilltops. A light rain rode the breeze.
“Why did you run off?” Steiner asked.
The mechanized torso rotated until Steiner could see Tramer’s whole face, wet from rain or tears. “I might have hurt someone in my emotional state—as I did once long ago.” He looked up into the heavens, opened his mouth, and let out a barely audible scream that almost sounded human. “I never intended to kill those two men five years ago.” His gaze met Steiner’s. The torture on his face melted away until he appeared as emotionless as ever. “I had to be alone to regain control over myself.”
“Is that why you came here—to find control?”
“I do not know.”
“Maybe you came to say good-bye to your old life, so that you could begin anew?” Steiner said.
Water speckles converged on Tramer’s breastplate, steaming down the metal surface. “I miss Veronica. I never want to leave her again.”
Steiner wiped the rain from his face. “If you stay, you’ll lose your career. I need you on the Marauder. You’re the backbone of that ship.”
Lightning flashed from the north.
Tramer’s torso swiveled back toward the town.
Steiner took a step closer. “One day, when your daughter learns that her father is still alive, don’t you want her to be proud of you?”
“She will always run from me.”
“No,” Steiner said. “She’ll learn to look past your exterior and find the soul of her father, just like I have.”
“He died.”
“When I first met you on board the Marauder, I would have agreed with that stat
ement, yet you care. You feel.” Steiner turned toward the direction in which the vehicle had driven away. “And you hurt. Show Veronica you love her by striving to honor her. Don’t end it all here.”
Heavy droplets pelted the damp earth around them. Tramer continued to stare toward the town.
Steiner sighed. Tramer chose to mourn the passing of his previous life rather than attempt to live again.
Steiner opened his jacket and grasped the medallion flush against his chest. He freed the ribbon from his head, then draped it over the shoulder of the weapons officer. Starbursts of light glistened in the medallion’s water-speckled surface.
“Good-bye, Mr. Tramer,” Steiner said. “It was a pleasure serving with you.” He straightened his posture and gave his best military salute. If Tramer’s career ended there, it would be with the dignity he deserved.
Steiner walked back up the hill toward his vehicle. When he reached the apex of his climb, he glanced back and saw the weapons officer frozen in the same position.
Lightning tinged the sky, accented by a low rumble. Sheets of rain rippled through the grayness.
Steiner ran the rest of the way back to the truck. By the time he climbed into the cab, his clothes and skin dripped water. He started the vehicle, swung it around, and kicked up some gravel as he sped to get back to Earthstation within five hours.
The headlight beams illuminated a dark figure directly in the center of the road. Steiner stomped on the brakes. Rocks ground under the tires of the truck as it slid to a halt. Tramer, his blue sensor light twinkling through the downpour, stepped to the passenger side and opened the door.
“Permission to join you, sir?”
“Always,” Steiner said.
The weapons officer climbed into the spacious cab, leaning forward so his head would clear the roof. He handed the Harrison medallion back. “I would prefer to earn one on my own—for Veronica’s sake.”
Steiner smiled knowingly. “Welcome back, Mr. Tramer.” As they drove off in the direction of the coming storm, Steiner felt at peace. If something terrible did wait on the horizon for the Marauder, at least Tramer would be there with him when it happened.
Prison Ship Page 24