by James Palmer
Dutton lunged at Drizda, but she sidestepped him easily, his knife slashing the empty air where she had once stood. Hamilton was amazed by how fast she was.
“You don’t have to do this,” said Hamilton.
“Yes, I do. Don’t try to get in my head. I know what I’m doing.”
Drizda lunged now, raking Dutton’s left shoulder with her claws. Blood welled up there, and Dutton winced. “All right, lizard. You’re going to pay for that.”
Hamilton grabbed up Dutton’s weapon and cleared the jam.
Dutton came at her again, but she blocked his blade and spun around, sweeping her tail into his legs and knocking him down.
“It’s over, Sergeant,” said Hamilton, aiming Dutton’s weapon straight at his head. “Stand down.”
“Never,” said Dutton as he slashed the knife blade across his throat, spraying red mist into the air.
“I need a med team down here!” Hamilton shouted, but of course this did no good. He grabbed up Drizda’s slate where it had fallen, intending to tap out a message to Brackett.
“It’s too late,” said Drizda. “He’s gone.”
Hamilton looked down at the Marine, puzzled why he would rather die than be taken in and questioned. Did this conspiracy really run this deep? Who else was involved? Could half the ship be against them?
“Are you all right?” Hamilton asked. The room was filled with the coppery tang of Dutton’s blood. It made him queasy.
“Yes, Commander. Are you?”
“Just shaken up.” He knelt over Dutton’s body to search it, going through his pockets, his equipment belt for any clue. Finally, he found something.
“He pulled a small black rectangle from Dutton’s belt, hefted it in his hand.
“What is that?” asked Drizda.
“It’s a tightbeam encoder and transmitter,” said Hamilton. “I haven’t seen one in years. Only Black Ops carry them. This isn’t standard marine issue. Come on. We’ve got to get back to the command deck.”
“To do what?”
“To find out who Dutton was working for, and to see if there is anyone else aboard on the payroll.”
Chapter 25
Repairs
It was hard to command a ship and coordinate repairs without a functioning communications system, but the Onslaught’s crew made the best of it. Lt. Brackett typed commands out to access terminals and personnel slates, setting repair crews in motion, while Kuttner paced the deck in thought, his hands clasped behind his back. He hated sitting here deaf and blind while the rest of the fleet were probably preparing for a war he was trying to stop. But they had no idea where to go or what to do next.
The door of the command deck slid open and Commander Hamilton and Drizda swept into the room, both of them covered in a spattering of blood.
“What the hell happened to you?” said Kuttner.
“It was Sergeant Dutton,” said Hamilton, breathing heavily. “He tried to kill Drizda. I wouldn’t be surprised if he blew up the comm room too.”
“What?” was all Kuttner could say. The big Marine had an anger problem, but he had always followed orders. “Did he say why?”
“No. He slit his own throat before he could tell us anything.”
Kuttner slumped heavily into his command chair. “He was a good soldier. I can’t believe he was in on this conspiracy nonsense too.”
Hamilton stood before him, holding a small rectangular object. “I found this on him. It’s a Black Ops tightbeam encoder and transmitter. Very high- tech and hush-hush. There’s no way Dutton should have been carrying this. This is how he received his orders to sabotage our communications and attack Drizda.”
Hamilton turned toward Lt. Brackett and tossed the tiny device toward her. She caught it and turned it over in her hand, examining it.
“You should be able to wire this into your workstation. It should work as a patch for our downed comm system.”
“I’m on it, sir,” said Brackett.
“Can we find out who the hell Dutton was talking to?” asked Kuttner.
“It’s possible,” said Hamilton. “But the transponder’s logs will be heavily decrypted. Fortunately, I know a faster way.” He turned to Gunner Cade. “Are the ship’s computers back online?”
“Yes, sir,” said Cade. “But the system just rebooted a few minutes ago. Go easy on it.”
Hamilton turned and headed for the Captain’s ready room, followed closely by Kuttner and Drizda.
Kuttner walked to the other end of the long table and huddled in front of the computer terminal there. After furiously typing for several moments he stopped to study whatever was on the screen.
“What are you doing, Commander?” asked Kuttner.
“I’m reviewing Dutton’s personnel file. I’m hoping it will tell us who he’s been getting his orders from.”
“My bet is on Admiral Sheldon,” said Kuttner. “We already know she’s involved. I’ve known that woman for twenty-five years. I can’t believe she sold us out just to get her telomeres lengthened.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure,” said Hamilton. “Look at this.”
Hamilton made a swiping motion with his hand, throwing the data he was viewing from the computer screen into hologram form above the table. Kuttner squinted, reading it.
“That’s just the details of his last post. Odin 3. I know it. The place is a hellhole. So what?”
“So, look at the name of his commanding officer.”
“Colonel Straker?”
“That tightbeam transponder Dutton was carrying is Special Ops tech, not something your common soldier would have in his kit. The Colonel is head of Special Ops.”
“So you think your former boss is behind all this.”
“I’m sure of it. Everything makes so much more sense now. He blackballed me and got me kicked out of Special Ops. I think it’s because I almost stumbled into this conspiracy or whatever it is months ago.”
Kuttner nodded. “And he’s got other people in on it with him, including Admiral Sheldon.”
“Most likely. This is too big for one person to handle.”
“But why would he want to go to war again with the Dragons? And why would he let those alien probes devour the entire Fleet?”
Hamilton shrugged. “I don’t know, but now we know who to ask.”
“Straker,” said Kuttner. “We need to get our communications back online so we can get the lay of the land.”
“Lay of the land?” Drizda said slowly.
“It’s an old figure of speech,” Hamilton explained. “He means we need to figure out what’s going on with the rest of our fleet. And yours too.”
Drizda nodded once, stiffly.
“I need to contact Leda again,” Hamilton said. “If I’m right, she’s in big trouble.”
“And if you’re wrong,” added Kuttner, “she’s in this up to her eyeballs.”
Chapter 26
Captured
“This is highly irregular, Lieutenant.”
Leda Niles grinned at the ship’s captain, a prim, slender woman a few years her junior. “Don’t I know it. But that’s Navy for you. They never make any sense.”
The captain looked over that data on her slate one more time before continuing. “But we’re on the eve of war. You really think you can talk the Onslaught’s captain into turning himself in?”
Leda fixed the older woman with a steady smile.
“That’s the plan. We need every able-bodied ship in the fleet if we’re going to stick it to those lizards.”
The captain of the small frigate swiped at her slate, glancing quickly at the data there once more. Everything appeared in order. It had all the right access sigils, and the signature of Colonel Straker was affixed in the bottom right corner, along with his thumbprint ID.
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” she said. “I don’t mean to sound skeptical. It just seems strange, being this last minute.
Leda rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. The Colonel does everythi
ng last minute. And he wants me, his personal assistant, to negotiate with the Onslaught’s crew and get them to listen to reason.”
The captain, whose name was Fulbright, nodded. “Well, come on board. It’s cramped, but we’ll make room for you.” She stepped aside so Leda could come aboard. The frigate was indeed cramped, even by Solar Navy standards, and far smaller than the few battle cruisers and troop transports she had been on during her career. But it had a certain weird coziness she found comforting, and it somewhat reminded her of her quarters in the barracks. After appraising the ship’s interior, she followed the captain down the narrow corridor, small gray duffel slung over her right shoulder. If the captain wondered about the long, narrow wooden case she carried in her left hand, she didn’t say anything.
“We can bunk you in here,” said the captain, motioning to an open door on their right. “We’ve just been using it for equipment storage, but I just had that junk dumped off at the quartermaster’s office planetside.”
“Thank you,” said Leda. “This is more than adequate.”
The captain nodded primly before striding off, presumably to get her ship underway.
Leda stepped into the small room, which consisted only of a bunk, rudimentary lavatory, and a computer terminal and tightbeam interface. She placed her duffel and case on the bed, and immediately started to panic.
What if Straker gets the word out about what I’ve done? What if the captain requests confirmation of my credentials from Control? A million such thoughts assailed her.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, steadying her mind. She had made it this far. Everything would be fine. Besides, she had the evidence.
She closed and locked the room’s crude hatch, then knelt before the box. She opened the clasps and raised the lid. Her katana shimmered in the light. Leda could smell the mineral oil she had cleaned it with. In the lower left corner, stuffed under the cleaning kit, was the memory drive with data Hamilton had sent her. Here was a visual and sensory record of the Onslaught’s every encounter with the deadly Swarm probes since this nightmare began. She returned it to its compartment and closed the lid, running her slender fingers across the box’s smooth sides.
Hamilton would call her a sentimental fool. Space travel was expensive and dangerous, and officers in the Solar Navy knew that traveling to the stars meant packing light. But she could never leave such a gift behind, especially with Straker’s heavy-handed military police likely ransacking her quarters at this very moment. She wished she had her old ship, the decommissioned warsprite and its onboard AI, Proxima. She could use someone to talk to.
He could ground every ship.
Leda went into panic mode again, then calmed herself. Straker doesn’t have the authority to do that, and this is war. Almost every military vessel on the planet would soon be headed out to join the Fleet near the area of the highest concentration of Draconi ships. He couldn’t stop that. Especially since it was what he wanted.
Leda stood. She hoped she could get off the planet before Straker tracked her down. She hoped she could find the Onslaught in time to stop a war. She hoped they could defeat the Swarm. She hoped she’d get a chance to see Noah Hamilton again, and make amends for the damage she helped cause to his career. She hoped.
She stretched out on the bunk, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.
***
Leda awoke from a troubled sleep to find that something wasn’t quite right.
The frigate she’d lied her way aboard had slowed; she could tell by the subtle vibration of the ship’s drive coming through the wall behind her bunk. She sat up. Had they reached their destination already? Not likely. She checked her wrist chronometer. They hadn’t been gone long enough.
Maybe they were waiting in line to use the Q-gate. With the entire fleet heading for the Artra system, it was possible, but still not likely.
Leda got to her feet, thankful she had slept in her uniform and boots. She started for the door, then decided to check the computer terminal set in the wall opposite her bunk. What she saw there chilled her blood.
General quarters had been sounded, and they had just docked with the Armitage.
“Straker,” said Leda. It had to be. The frigate wasn’t scheduled to meet up with any other ship until reaching Artra. What else could it be?
Leda thought fast. She was trapped. There was nowhere else she could go. She could steal a lifepod, but she’d be helpless. Straker could grab her anyway. Or just blast her lifepod to atoms.
The hatch to her quarters suddenly swung inward. Standing there were two fierce-looking marines in matte black riot polymer. Standing between them was Colonel Straker.
“Lt. Niles,” he said with a sneer. “I’m so glad we found you. Come with us, please.”
The marines entered the room, brandishing stun sticks.
Captain Phillips stepped up behind Straker. “Once again, I must apologize for all this. She had all the proper paperwork. And I must say, she doesn’t look like a terrorist.”
“They never do, Captain,” said the Colonel. “Special Ops appreciates your cooperation. If you’ll stand aside, we’ll have this problem off your ship in a few moments.”
“He’s conspiring against the Solar Navy and the League of Worlds,” Leda heard herself say. “I have proof!”
Oops. The moment the words came out of her mouth she regretted them.
Straker raised an eyebrow. “Yes. We know. You were trying to sneak way with classified documents of great importance to the war effort. Where are they?”
Leda scowled. Straker was shrewd. He wouldn’t have known about the data if she hadn’t said anything. The man could certainly think on his feet, but so could she.
“It’s over there,” she said, pointing. “In that case.”
Straker went to the wooden box that contained her katana. He opened it, smiling at the gleaming weapon inside. “How sentimental. The gift from your father. It is a beautiful weapon, elegant. But not what I came to see. Where is it? Oh, yes.”
Straker opened the tiny compartment that held the sword’s cleaning kit and fished around. Underneath was the drive on which she had stored the data that Hamilton had sent her.
“Put it in,” said Leda, motioning toward the computer terminal. “Let’s see what’s on it. I’m sure Captain Phillips would find it very interesting.”
It was Straker’s turned to scowl. He turned to Captain Phillips. “The Lieutenant here is completely delusional. She is a member of the so-called chaos cult the League purged a number of years ago. We thought we got them all, but apparently we were wrong.”
Phillips nodded, backing out of the doorway. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” she said. She continued to hang around, and Leda thought she could still get to her.
“You’re the traitor here, Colonel,” said Leda, backing into a corner. “When word gets out, you’re finished.”
“Take her,” ordered Straker.
The marine to Leda’s left made the first move, but she was ready. He brought the stun stick down fast and hard toward her right shoulder, but she grabbed his wrist, squeezing the nerves that made him loosen his grip on the weapon. Then she kicked him solidly in the left knee. There was a loud crack as he cried out in pain, crumpling to the deck as he dropped the stick.
Leda tried to catch it, but it tumbled out of her grip. The other marine was on her then, and he was even bigger than the first. He jammed the end of the stun stick into Leda’s side, sending a wave of pain and nausea through her. She felt dizzy and wobbled on her feet. She tried to grab at him to steady herself, but he pushed her way. She went to her knees and vomited. She felt pain lance through her once more as the marine connected the stun stick with the base of her skull. Then she knew only darkness.
Chapter 27
The Fleet
As they left the ready room, Lt. Brackett said, “Tightbeam back online.”
“That’s great news,” said Kuttner.
“That transponder did the trick,”
said Brackett. “I’ve patched it in to our system, bypassing the damaged circuits. I don’t know how long it’ll hold, but for now we’ve got ears. And a voice.”
“Excellent work, Lieutenant,” said Hamilton. “Let’s tune into the Fleet’s common channel, see if we can figure out what’s going on out there.”
“Already on it, Commander. The Fleet is amassing in the Artra system. They believe a Draconi strike force is headed there.”
“That was a highly contested system during the last weeks of the war,” said Hamilton. “It makes sense.”
“Hudson,” said Kuttner. “Head for the Q-gate. We’re going to the Artra system.”
The ship moved quickly, and Kuttner was thankful that the engines still worked. The Onslaught was still a mess, but she’d get them where they needed to go. She always had.
“Nearing the Q-gate now,” said Hudson.
“Sending codes,” said Brackett.
The Q-gate’s opening shimmered, showing a grouping of stars that did not line up with the section of space they currently occupied.
“Take her through,” said Kuttner. “Gently.”
The Onslaught passed easily through the gate, as it had done a thousand times. In under a minute they were clear.
“Pulsar nav confirmed,” said Hudson after a full minute. “This is the Artra system.”
The Artra system consisted of a medium-size G-type star and eight planets, one of which was capable of supporting both human and Draconi life, yet had none of its own. There was also a wide asteroid belt full of nickel-iron, gold and platinum, and several sources of other vital elements such as deuterium and helium 3. It was a veritable treasure trove that the League of Worlds needed to hang onto at any cost.
“I’m picking up multiple ships,” said Hudson. “All Navy. Frigates, battle cruisers.”
“Comm traffic is heavy,” said Brackett, pressing buttons on her workstation.
“Have they noticed us yet?” asked Kuttner.
“Unknown,” said Brackett. We might not be close enough. The main group is clustered in orbit around the second planet, the inhabited one.”