Antagonize (From the Logs of Daniel Quinn Book 2)

by Thomas R. Manning

  “Yes, sir,” Stern said, taking the samples from him.

  We passed the main desk and walked through a security gate. The alarm went off for both of us, drawing the looks of everyone in the room. Scott walked over to the side where Stern met us, and he held up a scanning device of some kind, a small shaft with an analysis module on top, its read beam traveling over Scott’s body after he removed his weapons. Stern waved him through and moved to scan me. I removed the sword and my revolver, but even after that, Stern’s device bleeped.

  “What else are you carrying?”

  “Probably my eye.” I pointed to it. He held the beam up close to it and pressed a couple of commands on his module.

  “Bionic?” he asked. “That must have been painful.”

  You have no idea . . .

  “What else? I’m detecting two more signatures on you.”

  Two? For a moment I stood there, confused, until I remembered the ring around my neck. The inset where a diamond used to be had been replaced by a small micro-memory drive from Al’s mainframe. It allowed for data uploads and downloads as well as shortwave teleportation, though I used that last one sparingly. Al always reminded me how slim of a chance I had at rematerializing in one piece. Not to mention, with Al damaged or lost, the teleporter wouldn’t work.

  The second signature I hoped to keep secret—the memory drive Damon planted on Tess, the one that held all his information. I reached back into my pocket and pulled it out, then held it and my necklace up for Stern to inspect.

  “Satisfied?” I asked. He looked hesitant, his eyes darting back and forth to the drives. He opened his mouth to say something, but Scott intervened.

  “Is he clear, Stern? We have work to do.” For a moment, I thought Stern would insist on studying the drives and my nerves intensified, but he looked back to Scott, nodded, and resumed his original position. Scott waved me over and we entered the main floor of the building. Desks and tables were arranged like spokes in a wheel that led to the middle of the room, which had a round holographic map of the entire planet. Commander Scott led me around the room, where a few dozen officers were hard at work, some looking over holographic displays of the city, others typing furiously on their keyboards. We stopped when we reached the far end of the room where a door had Scott’s name on it.

  His office was a technological marvel, at least from my point of view. A glass panel was attached to the right wall, holographic maps and markers covering its surface. No computer terminals or items covered the desk that stood in the middle of the room. Instead a glowing keyboard and screen were infused into the desk itself. The surface was the computer. Large glowing letters read ‘standby’ in the middle of the desk.

  “Alright.” Scott took off his holster and hung it across his chair, then activated his computer. “Let’s make sure we’re both on the same page.” He used a holographic keyboard to bring up a list of the council. Most of them were middle-aged to elderly. Patrick and Ilayna were very attractive. Light brown hair was combed over Patrick’s head while Ilayna’s sandy colored hair fell to her neck. Their eyes, brown and blue respectively, gazed with gentleness. Their smiles were warm and looked full of life.

  Not anymore.

  “About six to seven months ago, both planets launched a full scale battalion. Their mission was to exterminate the other side and take control of both planets. But as the death toll rose, our governments soon came to regret their decision. Too many people lost their lives. We’ve all known war for so long and they felt it was time to change, to try something different so our people could live and prosper. Against many people’s wishes, from homeless to high government, the council was formed. Twelve people were chosen to discuss terms of a ceasefire, and soon the era of peace was looking more and more likely. Over that time, armies and factions still attempted to attack each other, all in hopes that the council would realize how futile their attempt was, but the longer the council held onto hope and continued to talk peace, more people began to warm to the idea.

  “You’ve seen the crowds, the hatred and want for more bloodshed, but what you haven’t seen yet is the thousands who cry out for peace, who want their loved ones to come home alive, not in a box like Damon Derringer.”

  I heard most of this already from the files Damon gave me, but I wanted to hear it again from someone else, just to confirm what I already knew, or to possibly learn something Damon neglected to mention.

  “Tell me more about Damon,” I said.

  Scott leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “He was an honorable man, always did his job. He volunteered to be the council’s advisor, to see to their needs and record all their notes and meeting discussions. The job wasn’t safe, of course. He received death threats constantly, but he took them with a grain of salt, never worrying too much over it. ‘Peace is what these planets need,’ he always said.”

  If Damon had waved off previous death threats against him, what caused him to flee his home planet this time? My mind focused on Granak and his hunt for him, but did that originate here on Terra, or was he hired during Damon’s flight to Karth? Something spooked him, or he found something he wasn’t supposed to.

  “When was the last time you spoke to him?” I asked.

  “I saw him off-planet. I escorted him to the space shuttle and watched him fly away.”

  “What did he say? What did you know about his mission?”

  “I knew little,” Scott said, his eyes focusing downward. “He called me and told me he needed to leave the planet. I asked why, and he said only three things before he stepped onto the shuttle. He said his mission would ensure the safety of the peace between our worlds, and that he would return with a young man named Daniel Quinn. Lastly, he told me to look after his daughter.”

  I hadn’t really thought about Autumn since I met her outside the docking tower, but the sound of her name summoned a clear image of her. Emotions cascaded, a mixture of guilt and something else . . . almost like warmth. How was she coping with her father’s death? I knew that it was only a matter of time before I needed to talk to her. She might have known something about Damon that Scott didn’t.

  My stomach churned and the warmth faded as my mind changed course. Scott was the last person to see Damon before he left, and he didn’t have knowledge of where he was going, only that he wanted to find me. Damon didn’t trust anyone, not even his friends. Did he believe what I had been suspecting? Was the murder of the council an inside job?

  Advanced weaponry, bypassing security measures, and, worst of all, Patrick and Ilayna opening their door to the killer; it all led to the conclusion that if someone on the Sentinel team wasn’t the actual murderer, then someone else helped that person commit the crime. I wanted to bring my thoughts to Scott’s attention, but Damon’s few words with him made me hesitate. Did he think Commander Reynold Scott could be a potential suspect?

  Is that why he needed me? Did he need someone to trust on the outside, someone without ties to Terra or Gaia? If that’s true, how was I supposed to trust anyone?

  Don’t forget, Damon did tell Scott to look after his daughter. Would he really ask him that if he knew Scott was a traitor?

  “Commander,” a voice called, which sounded like Stern. “The council is prepared to speak with you.”

  “Acknowledged, Ensign. Patch us through.”

  A wave of static emerged from the office’s sound system and a green check mark appeared over the council members’ names and faces on the screen, except for the recently deceased. Trent, Burns, Finn, Larson, Smith, Greene, Maxwell, Rider, and Townsend were the last names of the council members. Any time they talked, a wavelength bar under their profile picture shifted.

  “Commander Scott,” said Greene, a woman who looked to be in her late fifties. “Do you have any information about the murders?”

  “Councilor Greene, I, unfortunately do not have any further details, though we are still investigating the matter with all haste.”

  “We need this matter sol
ved, Commander,” said Burns, though her tone was deeper and more raspy. “We need to reconvene as soon as possible to continue peace talks.”

  “No kidding,” I said out loud, but meant for it to be said internal. I clenched my eyes shut as I heard my own voice.

  “Who is that?” many of the council members asked.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the council,” Scott said, his narrow eyes glaring at me. “I regret to inform you that advisor Damon Derringer is dead.”

  I heard gasps, and multiple wavelength bars sharply spiked.

  “In his stead, acting advisor Daniel Quinn has been brought up to speed on current events, and he is here with me now to assist you in whatever way possible.”

  “What did you mean Daniel Quinn, when you muttered the phrase, ‘no kidding’?” The stern male voice originated from Trent.

  “I’m just surprised that you all want to continue the peace talks. Three of your council were brutally murdered, Damon was chased halfway across the galaxy and killed, and the first thing on your minds is to continue? You’re not scared of what could happen, that you might die trying to accomplish a task that no one seems to want?”

  “Mr. Quinn,” a throaty voice said, coming from Mr. Maxwell. “Do you know what my father and grandfather died for? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Both served as soldiers on starships, and both were killed in skirmishes between Terra and Gaia. Their goal? To control what wasn’t rightfully theirs. There were twelve of us, nine now, yet if we die, we do so with an honorable purpose: the uniting of our two worlds, and to stop soldiers and citizens from dying meaningless deaths. Do you understand sacrifice Mr. Quinn? If you did, then you would understand why we wish to continue.”

  I heard murmurs from the rest of the group, and the corner of my mouth curled upward. Giving up is easy when the odds are stacked against you, but when people are willing to stand up and give their lives for what they believe in, it creates a spark of hope.

  “Thank you, Councilor,” I said. “I hope I don’t fail you, any of you. Here’s what we know so far. It’s looking more likely that the killer, or an accomplice, was close to the council, specifically Patrick and Ilayna. What we need from you is to think hard about the types of people you’ve been in contact with, someone who had access to you at all times. If anyone knows more about Patrick Keegan, friends or even enemies he had, now would be a good time to come forward with this information.”

  I shifted my weight from my left leg to my right and waited for an answer, but I heard only white noise. Either the council didn’t know anything, which was unlikely, or they weren’t comfortable sharing the information over this communication channel. I assumed the line would be secured before we made contact, but did their fear drive their hesitation? Scott and I looked at each other, and though I didn’t know what he was thinking, I couldn’t shake the feeling that these murders looked more and more like an inside job.

  “Think on it,” I said after a minute of silence. “And please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

  “We would like to discuss a remembrance for Damon,” Trent said. “We could all gather together and share his memory with each other, so that his death is secured in our honored halls.”

  “I don’t really think bringing you all together is a good idea,” I said.

  “In case you forgot, Mr. Quinn,” Maxwell spoke again, “our lives are not important as much as the idea of peace and prosperity.”

  You kind of need to be alive to make the peace, I thought.

  “We’ll figure something out to honor Damon,” Scott chimed in. “For now, we will let you rest. Please contact us directly if you think of anything that could help us.”

  The council said their thanks and goodbyes, and then Scott deactivated the communicator. He stared at me, which made me more uncomfortable than I already was, if that was even possible.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked. I shrugged. “Trent and Maxwell were adamant about holding a ceremony for Damon, a perfect opportunity to get the council together.”

  “Well, they seemed kind of self-righteous to me,” I said. “I’m not really surprised if this council is as tight knit as I think it is.”

  “Sure, sure.” Scott waved of his hand, then stood up and turned toward his window, which overlooked a backdrop of shimmering skyscrapers and vehicles so far away they looked like Earth fireflies traveling in perfect formations. “Imagine though, if the killer was closer to this than we thought. He moved so easily through our security and the council because he was closer than any of us.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “You think one of the council members is the killer? Trent or Maxwell?”

  “It’s a ridiculous assumption, but I find it hard to believe someone infiltrated the hotel without us knowing about it.”

  Scott grasped for any kind of explanation. I wanted to throw out another possibility, but held my tongue—what if one of the Sentinels were somehow involved? They were the only security team with exclusive access to the council. I made a mental side note to take a closer look at the security group. For now Scott would be better left in the dark. With his distress over the murders, including Damon’s, the last thing I needed was to lose any potential trust we gained today. Besides, if he was as capable a commander as I perceived him to be, he’d be looking at his own men already.

  The desk blinked green twice and the voice of Stern, who seemed more like a secretary than a soldier, came back on the line.

  “Commander Scott. General Ambrose requests a priority channel with you immediately.”

  “Put him through,” Scott said.

  I stood up, motioning for the door, but Scott put his hand forward and lowered it, gesturing me to sit down. He placed his index finger across his lip as a deep, rich bass voice spoke.

  “Reynold, what the hell is happening on my planet?”

  “Sir?”

  “I heard about the attack at the tower, and who the hell is this Quinn that landed?”

  “Two men have been killed, sir, but we’re all hard at work to determine how they gained access. Captain Daniel Quinn arrived a few hours ago at the request of Damon Derringer himself. He saved my life, sir, and the lives of my team. He’s helping us with the investigation of the council murders.”

  “Hmph,” Ambrose grunted. “Keep an eye on this man, Reynold. For all we know he’s the one who killed Damon just to get access.” A shiver crawled up my spine at the accusation. I wanted to say something, but Scott held up his hand again in silence. “I’ll be returning from Gaia in two days, and I’ll want a situation report on everything that’s happened. And I want to meet this Quinn fellow.”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll have everything ready for you. Scott out.”

  I breathed in and let out more of a yawn than a sigh. Scott did the same, rubbed his eyes, and blinked a couple times.

  “It’s the middle of the night, Quinn. I think we would both benefit from a few hours’ sleep.”

  “What about all the data? And the prisoner you captured?”

  “Everything is a priority where the safety of the council is concerned, but we need to be awake and aware of what’s happening around us. We need to recharge our batteries, so to speak. Do you require accommodations?”

  I shook my head. “My ship will do fine. I want to make sure my associate is doing well, and I’ll look over some data before we get started in the morning.”

  “I’ll have someone give you a ride back to the docking tower, but here . . . take this.” He pulled a small sheet of glass, no bigger than a business card from under his desk, and handed it to me. When I grabbed it, numbers and buttons appeared on it. “It’s a communicator, just in case I need to get in touch with you while you’re on your ship.”

  He made a call back to Stern and then extended his hand to me. “Good meeting you, Quinn, and good work today. Go ahead back to the lobby and I’ll have someone pick you up in the morning, say 0800 hours?”

  I shook his hand and stood up, but
something nagged at me, something Ambrose said.

  “Commander, Ambrose asked you to keep an eye on me, believing I could be a suspect. How is it you haven’t voiced a similar concern?”

  “I haven’t voiced it, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t considered it,” he replied with a coy grin. “Your ship is grounded, and you are within constant supervision of the Sentinels. You do know the phrase, ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer,’ don’t you?”

  Ten

  Throughout the night I woke up with the images of Damon’s murder and the council members’ corpses replaying in my dreams. In total, I maybe slept a couple hours, after Tress interrogated me about everything I saw and did after I left him.

  Like a shambling corpse and with a pounding headache, I dragged myself into the kitchen, my arms flailing useless at my sides. Tress, of course, was already awake and lunged for the cabinet to grab a ration for me. I dropped onto a seat, which squeaked against my weight.

  “Niru danta Prata!” Tress said. A thick fog traveled in circles within my head, and I found it hard to concentrate on Tress’s words. After two glasses of water and the ration, which consisted of beans, rice, and dried fruit, my head cleared a little bit and I found it easier to translate Tress’s language again. Good morning, Captain, he said.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “The sun has appeared over the horizon,” he said. “I heard you throughout the night, thrashing in your sleep. Are you all right, Captain?”

  “Let’s see, I watched a man get murdered, my ship and artificial intelligence broke, I got to see a couple of disgusting digital corpses, and I’ve been put in a position not only to help stop Terra and Gaia from destroying each other, but it’s also been hinted that I’m a suspect.”

  I told him all this last night before I slept, but it felt good to vent it again. In that time, only more and more questions were ahead of me. Who killed the council? Who hired the mercenaries to attack Scott’s team and me? How did Granak fit in with this situation—an alien in the middle of a human conflict?