“From what we’re seeing so far, the Massang have an eighty-six percent chance of surviving this attack. They’ll be a little beaten up, but they should pull through.”
“IF this is the entire attack,” cautioned Pettigrew. “Interesting that the Lytori ships don’t close on the Massang. They have a three-to-one advantage. You’d think—”
“Commodore!” interrupted the Comm Officer. “We have an incoming message from the aliens!”
“Harradoss?”
“No, sir—the other aliens… the Lytori.”
Pettigrew gestured toward the main viewscreen. “Put it on up front, Mr. Segui.”
A hologram materialized at the front of the bridge. It showed one of the Lytori, presumably their commander, staring at the screen. Pettigrew thought of the barn owl analogy again—the face was round and flat with an oblong beak-like mouth. Two front-facing eyes peered eerily into the camera, the dark disks never blinking during the brief encounter. The creature began to chatter, mostly emitting an undecipherable series of clicking noises mixed in with other random trills.
Pettigrew tried to communicate over the babble. “I am Chaz Pettigrew of the Sarissan ship Tempest. We are here on a peaceful mission and wish—”
Suddenly the image cut out.
“They cut us off,” said Nyondo indignantly.
“Negative, ma’am,” corrected Paruzzi from his station. “We broke the communication link.”
“WE did?” exclaimed Pettigrew with astonishment. “Who gave that order?”
“I did, Commodore,” said a female voice. It was the Tempest’s AI. “Communication with the alien vessel was terminated as per security protocols five-five point one and five-five point two.”
Before a ruffled Pettigrew could ask, another hologram popped up in front of Nyondo’s command chair. “Sorry to interrupt, Captain,” said the young man. It was Lieutenant Carty, Tempest’s chief Cyber Warfare Officer. “Ship did the right thing, ma’am. That alien communication just now—it was packed full of malware. I think we stopped most of it, but we’re going to double check everything. A lot of it seemed aimed at engineering.”
“Damn it,” cursed Nyondo. “All right, Mr. Carty. Stay on this. Go over everything as many times as it takes—and then do it all again one more time. Keep me informed.” With a swipe of her hand, Carty’s image disappeared. Several minutes later, it was replaced by that of Commander Mullenhoff.
“Captain, I just took a look at some of this code Carty passed along to me,” said the Chief Engineer. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure the Lytori were trying to instigate an uncontrolled thorium release in our hyperdrive reaction chamber.”
“They were trying to blow us up?”
“Yep. If Ship hadn’t caught it, we would have all died about five minutes ago.”
“Well, so much for neutrality,” said Pettigrew after the image of Mullenhoff vanished. “Mr. Segui, warn the Vasant not to accept any comm messages from the Lytori. Mr. Paruzzi, status report.”
The XO quickly glanced over his console and an info hologram floating before him. “The Massang have repelled a second wave of battledrones, but they’ve taken some moderate damage. Also, Yaxa seems to have gone zero-gee.”
“If that’s true, their inertial dampers could be down as well, which means they can’t maneuver,” said Nyondo. “They’re sitting ducks.”
Paruzzi reoriented the view on the main tactical screen. “The three Lytori ships are edging closer to the Yaxa. They are about twelve thousand klicks distant now. Harradoss has launched three missile waves so far and has only scored a few minor hits. The Lytori have exceptionally strong shields.”
Pettigrew made a disapproving face. “What about Vasant?”
“Under good speed and proceeding to waypoint Able, sir.”
Pettigrew crossed his arms and threw back his head to look up at the ceiling. Ten days ago, no human had ever met an alien before. Now, he and his ships found themselves entangled in an alien war. His next move could have repercussions for hundreds of light-years in all directions and for every human being alive.
“Captain Nyondo, move Tempest to a position alongside the Massang cruiser and prepare to engage the Lytori vessels.”
Nyondo looked very much like she wanted to argue, but the captain bit back her protests. “Mr. Hayes, all ahead full. Put us fifteen-hundred meters alongside the Yaxa.”
As the Sarissans got under way, the battle between the aliens heated up again. Having apparently expended all of its battledrones, the large Lytori ship was launching a series of missile waves at its crippled opponent. Meanwhile, the Massang were trying a new tactic, sending out surgewave blasts followed by missiles. As the waves hit the shields of the Lytori ships, it weakened them enough to allow multiple hits by the trailing missiles. One of the Lytori destroyers was severely damaged and moments later withdrew to the safety of hyperspace.
“Even their destroyers have shields,” observed Pettigrew. “Harradoss told me the other day that the Lytori excel in shield tech.”
Nyondo swiveled in her chair to face him, leaning close so that only he could hear her.
“Commodore, we have still not fired on them yet. It might be that simply moving to support the damaged Massang vessel will be enough to stop this battle.”
Nyondo was being a good subordinate. She was doing her duty and then some by reminding him of his options, but he had made up his mind.
“Sunny, I understand, but I want you to understand something too. The Lytori attacked this vessel. It was a cyber-attack, but an attack nonetheless. If they had gotten their way, we would all be dead right now.”
“Probably, but with all due respect to Mullenhoff and Carty, I’d feel more comfortable if we preformed more than a ten-minute analysis on that alien code before we used it as a justification for interstellar war.” Pettigrew could see in her face that she had said more than she meant to, but she wasn’t backing down.
“I agree with you on that, Captain, but time is the one commodity we are short of. We were attacked, dammit, and I’m not going to let that go unanswered.”
Nyondo had been with Pettigrew for years, and she clearly recognized the finality in his voice. “Very good, sir. What are your orders?”
Pettigrew studied the tactical screen. The Massang had wounded the enemy force with their one-two punch of surgewave and missile volley. Lytori shield strength seemed to be down on both remaining vessels, especially on the heavy cruiser.
“Ms. Kuypers, are we within Scion torpedo range yet?”
“Just crossed over, sir.”
“Good. Lay ten Scions on the hull of the big Lytori ship.”
As the stealthy torpedoes ran hot and true toward their target, Ensign Hayes guided Tempest into position astarboard Yaxa. Everyone else on the bridge was following the Scions as they approached their prey, torpedoes that were hopefully going undetected by the enemy in the mess of missiles flying back and forth between the alien belligerents.
As the Scions closed on their target, ten energy beams abruptly jumped from the Lytori cruiser, vaporizing each of the Sarissan torpedoes.
“Holy shit!” Kuypers blurted out in a not so subtle voice.
“Thirty klicks out,” muttered a stunned Paruzzi. “They swatted those hounds thirty klicks out—every one of them.”
“Bubbles!” announced pilot Hayes as the two remaining Lytori ships engaged their hyperdrive engines. Pockets of hyperspace formed around the alien craft, and then they were gone, vanished into the ether of hyperspace.
“Secure from General Quarters,” ordered Nyondo. “XO, recall the Vasant.”
Moments later a holo-image of Harradoss stood before Pettigrew.
“You should not have entered the battle. We would have endured,” he said. “But my people do give you thanks. I guess repairs to take a few days. I have sent for, um… assistances.”
Pettigrew scrunched his eyebrows together and then smiled. “Ah, reinforcements. It might take some time for them to ar
rive.” Little did Harradoss know that the Sarissans had reinforcements coming as well. Perhaps now would be a good time to spring that on the Massang commander.
“Pettigrew,” said Harradoss in a reserved voice. “You should never have fired on the Lytori ship.”
“They launched a cyber-attack against us. Besides, I felt that supporting our new friends was the right thing to do.”
Chaz Pettigrew thought the alien would be pleased, but instead he seemed guarded. “I am truly sorry, my human friend,” said Harradoss. “You have no idea what a horrible enemy you have made.”
16: Complications
The Miraflores Ward
Villanueva
Planet Quijano
What the hell…
As Etta Sanchez awoke for the second morning on Ellis Dorham’s sofa, she felt something on her stomach. Lifting her eyelids, she discovered two greenish disks staring back at her. It was Chessie, the Inspector’s feline, who had apparently decided that Sanchez would make a comfortable bed for an early morning snooze.
She tentatively reached out to pet the animal, which had not been completely welcoming during her short stay at the investigator’s apartment. As Chessie warmed to scratches behind the ears, her master emerged from the kitchen.
“Morning,” he said with a pleasant smile. “Coffee is on. I thought we’d grab some breakfast at the neighborhood diner. I’m not exactly much of a cook.”
“That sounds fine,” she said sitting up, stroking Chessie on her lap. “What’s our first move today, Inspector?”
“Already happening. The bathroom is all yours. Soon as you’re ready, join me in the kitchen and I’ll fill you in.”
A few minutes later, she was sitting at the kitchen table surveying the random computer components which were strewn about and taking her first sip of Dorham’s freshly brewed coffee.
“Oh, man—that’s good. Where did you learn to make coffee the right way?”
“Over in Santo Pacian,” he said as he tinkered. “I was stationed over there for a few months. Could you hand me those needle nose pliers? I tend to get transferred a lot, you know, because most of the time I just don’t give a crap.”
“Great to be working with you,” she raised her mug in a mocking toast, then took another sip. “What do we have here?”
“Your Uncle Leo’s polydrive,” Dorham said, concentrating while he removed a memory square. “Well, if I put it back together, that’s what it would be.”
“I thought you dropped this off yesterday at SSB headquarters.”
“I did drop off a polydrive, just not the polydrive. The folks downtown have a duplicate drive I whipped up—one without the juicy bits,” he said while plugging the memory square into an external reader. “Still not sure about all those strangers at HQ. I wanted to get a look at your uncle’s personal files before they do, so this morning I’ve been digging. Lots of stuff relating to the Reform Party. Almost all of it has been courtesy copied to someone named Auric Banks. Who’s he?”
“You don’t follow the news much, do you?”
“Sports and weather. I’m basically what you would call apolitical.”
“Hmm—somewhat understandable these days. Auric Banks is a Reform Party VIP. I suppose you could say he was second-in-command. He was also one of my uncle’s closest friends. They served together under Victor Polanco.” Sanchez had to be cautious here. This man seemed to be harmless enough, but she had only met him two days ago. Dorham was pushing the idea of a conspiracy, but what if he was actually part of it?
The Inspector was a big man, and outside in the real world he was a bit lumbering. Inside a computer, however, he was anything but. Despite his large fingers, he worked on the small components like a virtuoso. Skimming something on the external reader, he gave out a long, low whistle.
“What? You found something?”
“I think so,” he said in a tone of self-congratulation. “Looks like your Uncle Leo had evidence that Prince Karl was still running Gideon Universal on the sly and pocketing huge profits to boot. The Admiral was going to go public with his information.”
Sanchez raked her fingers through her black pageboy hair. “Wait,” she said, remembering something. Taking out her mobile, she began to scroll. “I was looking at the news last night before falling asleep and they mentioned something. I was sleepy, so I didn’t…Yeah, here it is.” Scanning the screen, she quickly flipped to some other sites. “Damn, there are stories about Karl all over the Nets today. Gimme a second.”
Now Dorham was browsing his mobile. “What the… I’m finding articles citing SSB sources.”
“Me too.” Sanchez held up her device and read aloud. “This is from Net Q2. It says ‘according to at least one report, SSB authorities on Quijano have recovered evidence from the home of the late Reformist leader Leonardo Sanchez which confirms the illegal oversight of the Empire’s second largest military shipbuilder by Prince Karl. There has been no official comment from Koenig Manor.’” Sanchez quickly thumbed through her mobile tabs. “It’s everywhere.”
“A little bizarre, don’t you think?” asked Dorham, pointing toward the disassembled polydrive. “The SSB’s alleged proof is here, spread out on my kitchen table. If we are the only ones who have seen what’s on the real polydrive…”
“How does anyone else know what’s on it?” she said, finishing his thought for him as she stood. “We’re not going out to breakfast.”
“We’re not?”
“Keep working, Inspector. I’ll pop around the corner and bring breakfast to you. You need to work fast, just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“In case the SSB shows up wanting their evidence back.”
* * * *
By early afternoon, no one else had shown up. Dorham was still going through Leonardo Sanchez’s personal files while Sanchez sat at the table with him, using a secondary reader to assist as she sipped on more coffee.
“Don’t you ever get tired of coffee?” asked Dorham.
“Nope,” she said while skimming through some of her uncle’s correspondence.
Dorham was just now finishing his breakfast, the last bite of a cold veal sausage. “Whoever is pulling the strings knew what was on this polydrive,” he said between chews. “If their people have infiltrated the local SSB, they probably didn’t even examine that device I dropped off yesterday.”
“How would they know what’s on it if they didn’t look?”
“Because they put it there,” he said swapping out memory squares.
Sanchez put down her reader and rubbed her eyes. “Maybe Prince Karl really is involved. I mean, if Uncle Leo had proof of illegal financial holdings…”
“And what about your husband? You think Frank Carr was actually involved too?”
A look of resolve swept over her face. “No,” she said firmly. “Frank would never betray his starhold, and he would never betray me.”
“Smoke and mirrors, Sister, smoke and mirrors. By the way, what is the Committee of Nine?”
“Where did you hear about that?”
Dorham seemed to sense he had struck a nerve. “Right here in your uncle’s notes. According to this, the Admiral suspected Prince Karl of being a member of something called the Committee of Nine. What is that?”
Sanchez raised her cup and took a slow swallow. “Not sure.”
“But you have heard of it.”
“Yes, and frankly, there’s no way my uncle would have had access to that level of intelligence, not in retirement.”
Dorham smiled. “Smoke and mirrors. The whole story is right here on your uncle’s polydrive—so nice and neat they might as well have gift wrapped it.”
“Phony?”
“As an Odessan summer,” he said with a grin. “The time stamp has been altered. Most of this information was written just a few days before Admiral Sanchez died. Who was the last person from outside the household to see your uncle before he climbed into his helicraft and took off for the conference?
”
Sanchez frowned. “Auric Banks. My cousin told me he visited Uncle Leo the day before the conference was due to start. But Inspector, Banks is a respectable member of the Party.”
Dorham’s allergies were acting up again as his eyes got red and wet. “You’d be surprised what respectable people can do if they put their minds to it,” he said reaching for a tissue. “Then again, in your former line of work, maybe you wouldn’t.”
Chessie jumped up onto the table, scouting for any of the sausage that might have been left over from breakfast. “Sorry old girl, you’re too late,” said Dorham as he reached to take her onto his lap. “Look, Sanchez, I think I’ll go down to headquarters and pay them one of my occasional visits—maybe nose around a bit.”
“I’m going downtown too. I want to drop by the Hotel Progreso.”
“Yeah, their beds are a little more comfortable than my sofa,” said Dorham in what seemed like a disappointed voice.
Sanchez stood and stretched her arms. “That’s probably true, but I’ll be staying here again tonight.”
“Then why go to the Hotel Progreso?”
“Because Auric Banks rents a suite there.”
* * * *
The excursions downtown produced mixed results. Dorham reported that he was virtually ignored at SSB headquarters, except for a rest room conversation with his superior, Chief Inspector Mazorra. Mazorra confided that he too knew something was amiss around the office, but didn’t have all the details yet. Dorham felt they might have found a potential ally in the Chief Inspector.
Meanwhile, Sanchez had located Auric Banks’ lodgings, but not the man himself. Hotel employees reported that Banks hadn’t been seen in days. She managed to flirt enough with an assistant manager to gain access to the Banks’ suite, but once inside, found nothing of particular interest. The downtown outing hadn’t been a total waste however, as Sanchez returned to Dorham’s apartment with a bottle of Oppegaard Premium.
“Top shelf vodka,” said Dorham as he finished another glass. “I’m not used to such luxury. I’m more of a Wellman kind of guy.”
Keeper of the Sun (Starhold Series Book 3) Page 15