“I wouldn't breathe easy just yet, Commander.”
Nathen arched an eyebrow. “How come?”
Gordon nodded toward the Stelkan. “I'm afraid that interrogation bore more fruit than you realize.”
Nathen turned toward the Captain, frowning and letting his arms hang. “What do you mean? As far as I could tell, that bird didn't know anything.”
“That's just it,” Gordon said, flatly. “He didn't know enough. There should have been details. A portfolio on the Alliance War Band. If they spotted Haven Alpha, or one of the Hybrids, there would have been information. He couldn't even tell us what we already knew.”
“I don't follow,” Helen said, frowning.
“I do,” Nathen said. “This means we were wrong. The Yew never detected us going in. They were blindly feeling in the dark for something they'd never even seen.”
“But they were spot on,” Trent said, baffled. “How could they do that?”
“I think there's only one way,” Gordon said, eyes shifting around the holding cell. “They had help.”
Helen frowned, expression darkening. “You're suggesting...”
“Yes,” Gordon said, sadly. “Someone on this mission gave us away.”
The room dropped several degrees. Nathen felt the chill as everyone’s eyes met, thinking the same thing. It was Nathen who finally said it.
“We have a traitor in our midst.”
Chapter 26
Calico fumbled through the cabinet in the infirmary, pushing other shelves of prescription bottles aside, searching for the right one. Her helmet was sitting on the edge of the table as she went about her flustered search, rifling through the pull-out cabinet. Rows and rows of containers sat strapped down, in standard spaceship fashion, on the off chance the gravity went out.
“Where is it?” she groaned, still feeling the consequences of the emergency maneuvers the Kastar corvette had taken. After a minute, she located a bottle of motion sickness medicine marked Fenerez. It was unopened.
“Great. I’m the only Elite Stellar Commando with a motion sickness problem.”
Calico issued an emotional sigh and leaned on the tabletop, hanging her head. She clutched the bottle, then without raising her head she gripped the cap and twisted. It refused to open, so she twisted harder with a grunt. The bottle burst open and showered the table top with its contents. Calico started, scowled, then pitched the bottle against the sink, scattering tiny purple pills with green rings all across the floor. She hung her head again, standing there in her amazing suit of armor, feeling anything but. Calico glanced sideways. It looked like her faceless mask was staring at her. Judging. After a moment of silent thought, Calico reached over and gently knocked the helmet off the ledge with her fingertips. The alien alloy didn't even bang when it hit the floor. It just plopped and rolled onto its side. The girl shook her head and palmed her face in her nano-fiber glove.
Calico didn't bother replacing the bottle in the cabinet. Her helmet stayed on the floor. She was headed for the door when she stopped. She looked to her right, toward the darkened section of the infirmary. On the open slab, surrounding by a small forest of wireless medical machines monitoring his recovery, sat Jonathan Harper’s motionless form.
The stealthist was still in his black Genesis armor, looking strangely out of place under the flimsy infirmary bed sheet. Like sleeping in a space suit... only more alien. His helmet was off and gone, Calico didn't know where. A series of lit probes were stitching across his brow and through his coal-black hair, scanning for concussion and brain damage. The man had his eyes closed and was breathing slowly, like he was asleep. Or comatose. Either way wouldn't surprise her, after what he'd suffered. Every once in a while, a machine would issue an electronic chirp or blip, but the stealth expert never moved. Calico watched him for a minute, then looked at his slack arms, resting over the sheets. The dermasuit had been peeled or cut back partway down the arm, allowing for intravenous feed lines to be inserted.
The mysterious black print was still there, etched onto the back of the ESC’s hand.
After a second’s debate, Calico walked quietly over to the silent man, curiosity getting the better of her. She slinked around her mess, tiptoeing to avoid cracking any of the pills she'd scattered. Standing right next to the elevated bed, Calico could just make out the tattooed symbols of letters and numbers. The rest was covered up by a loose layer of medical tape.
Calico frowned. The medical tape had been generously applied to help keep the intravenous line in. It was blocking part of the tattoo. All she could make out was...
-ND
Calico looked closer, paying attention to Jonathan’s slow breathing, and tried to get a glimpse of what was under the tape. She could just barely make out a word, mixed with numbers, hidden under the bandage. Moving slowly, Calico reached out and gripped the tape between her fingers, slowly pulling it back. Under the turned-down lights, Calico thought she could just make out the numbers-
Jonathan’s tattooed hand snapped up and seized Calico by the wrist, twisting and jerking her arm about in a joint lock. Calico let loose a startled yelp as she was twisted around against her will, arm locking so tight behind her she felt her fingers press against the back of her armor's chest alloy. Jonathan didn't even bother to sit up, forcing Calico to bend awkwardly to the submission hold until she was bent over backwards, practically resting on the stealthists knees. Calico clenched her teeth, feeling her shoulder scream, close to dislocation but unable to twist any further because of the support of the nano-skin. The medical machines hissed with disapproval as Jonathan groaned, giving Calico's wrist another sharp twist, making the girl jolt. The stealthist stared her in the eye; the pain he was experiencing buried.
“You've got a nose for curiosity,” he hissed through his teeth. “The next time I catch your eyes wandering, you'll be shaking my cigarette ashes off your eyelids. Got it?”
Calico squirmed and gritted her teeth. “Let go! I wasn’t-”
Calico's mouth snapped shut as she felt the cold muzzle of a silenced Sachlar press against the back of her head, right where her hairline met the dermasuit. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, calming herself until Jonathan lowered his pistol. The stealthist placed his pistol down on the bed beside him and then effortlessly switched grips so he was holding Calico's locked arm in his opposite hand. Keeping the pressure steady on the joint lock, Jonathan lifted his taped hand to his mouth and tore the tape off with his teeth. The veil came off, and Calico could clearly see the words tattooed into the skin of his hand.
J-III
F13ND
“I hope it was worth it.”
Calico tried to free herself from Jonathan’s grip, but he merely tightened his hold. She fought to keep her voice steady. “What’s wrong with you? I just wondered...”
“What's wrong with me?”
Calico silenced herself as Jonathan chuckled in her ear, resting his forearm on her twisted shoulder, amused as she squirmed in discomfort.
“You know, I was worried when you came on board. Surprising, right? Not every day you get dragged out to the furthest war-torn spiral against your will, where you get to babysit a girl like yourself around the battlefield. I figured one of us would get hurt. But…”
He took a slow, refreshing breath through his nose, causing the medical machines to click flusteredly. He leaned, lazily, on Calico’s hyper-extended shoulder, smiling just inches from her face.
“I think I’m over it.”
Calico’s face was a taught mask of pain. “Let go…” she pleaded, eyes wide. “That hurts.”
“See, here’s how I see things,” Jonathan said, acting like he hadn’t heard the girl. “There’s no sense worrying about when you’re going to get hurt. It’s gonna happen. So you might as well develop a taste for it.”
“What are you-“
“This place I come from. It’s, ah, an interesting place. Full of people who consider pain a cuisine. But, I’m just a little different.
See, in a world of sadistic connoisseurs.” Jonathan’s smirk disappeared and his eyes became blades. “I’m a five star chef.”
Calico clenched her eyes shut, grimacing as she struggled to loosen the stealthists hold. “Where are you from?”
Jonathan clenched his tattooed hand into a fist, letters trembling.
“You think this little gang of characters only represents the best Humanity has to offer?” he whispered in her ear, coldly. “Where I got this tattoo, you don't survive by being the best.”
Jonathan curled his fingers tighter around Calico's torqued wrist, feeling her body tense as he hissed venomously in her ear. “I survived by being the worst.”
Calico grimaced. “What’s that supposed to do, scare me?”
“It’s a fair warning. You think because I'm willing to take a battle talon for you in the field that I won't cap you in your pretty red head later.”
Calico swallowed. “You wouldn't do that,” she said, uncertainly. “I don't believe you.”
The stealthist sneered.
“You don't have a clue who I am, do you? Naive little creatures like you only exist as long as monsters like me allow it,” Jonathan said, speaking as though it were common knowledge. Then, in a more hushed voice, “And you already owe me your life. Twice over.”
Jonathan let go of Calico’s arm, allowing her to stumble away from him several steps. Calico turned as Jonathan waggled his Sachlar for her to see before putting it at his side.
“I’ll be keeping a close eye on you,” the stealthist said, sinking back against the bed, eyes watching her. “I’m not as trusting as Knight.” Jonathan rolled his fingers in and out of a fist. “Or as forgiving.”
Calico rubbed at the spot where Jonathan had grabbed her. A hot raged burned just behind her green eyes. “I'm not scared of you.”
Jonathan smirked as if he'd just received a compliment. “Denial is the first disguise of terror.” Jonathan released his fist and pointed at the young ESC. “You get one warning. One. You put a stop to that curiosity of yours. Or I'll put a stop to it for you.”
Calico bit back the words she was thinking. “You’re barking up the wrong tree. And threats against a fellow soldier’s life is a serious crime.”
“I guess that would make me some kind of criminal, then.”
Calico took a deep breath before continuing. “Next time you try something like that, I'll be ready for you.”
Jonathan worked his jaw. “No you won't.”
Calico opened her mouth to respond, then huffed and spun on her heel, storming out the door, barely taking a second to stoop and pick up her helmet. Jonathan watched her go, then leaned back onto the bed, taking comfort from the lump that was his Sachlar under the sheets. The monitors resumed their relentless scans.
Chapter 27
Nathen stood quietly next to Captain Gordon Bryor, watching the image of Denver stew over the report they’d just sent him. After fleeing the Menturion System, the Alpha’s mobile headquarters was taking some time to hide in the empty Gengar System. The Gengar System was dead, possibly inhabited at one point in time, but long since wiped barren by intense solar flares from the system’s unstable star. Haven Alpha was forced to stay under the protection of phase shift, to avoid any hazardous radiation. After a minute of resolute silence, Denver looked up at Nathen.
“I was hoping for better news.”
Nathen nodded. “I know.”
Denver locked his arms behind his back, pacing in and out of view on the screen. “I’m not pleased by your implications. You're sure about this?”
Nathen sighed and exchanged a look with the captain. “I'm not entirely convinced. But what little evidence we have indicates an information leak.”
“I need a cigarette,” the former admiral muttered. “Deployment preparations have barely been going on for a week and already we've been compromised.”
Denver stopped in the center of the screen and turned halfway toward Nathen. “Well, Knight. You've always got a unique insight. What are your thoughts?”
Nathen took a deep breath, not wanting to speak his next words but knowing he had to. “We go to ground. I’m afraid if we try to handle this thing alone, it will tear the ESCs apart at the roots. I think we need to hunker down and re-evaluate our plans, ASAP.”
“Sounds reasonable, but if everything could be solved by being reasonable then we wouldn’t be going to war. I don’t like the idea of running from a problem.”
“I don’t either,” Nathen said. “But I’d rather deal with this now than, say, the next time we’re on a mission where there’s no help for us. Right now, we need to be surrounded by non-hostiles.”
“I suppose a few extra friendly faces around couldn’t hurt.” Denver turned his eyes toward the Captain. “Well, Captain, it’s your Haven. What do you think?”
Gordon tapped a button on his armrest, like he already had things planned out. “I think we should stay in deep space until we sort out the worst of it. But, Haven does need a rest and a resupply. I defer to Commander Knight's foresight.”
Denver nodded, stopping his pacing and taking a seat. “Very well, then. Let's get down to the details. Where are you going?”
“I haven't decided,” Gordon said, calling up a mini-screen and cycling through the nearest friendly systems. “There are numerous smuggling stations and rogue factions in the area that we could easily talk our way into without-”
“I have a humble suggestion,” Nathen said, cutting in. “The Orbit Angel.”
Gordon frowned. “The Orbit Angel...” He did a quick search and checked the result. A corner of the transmission screen was filled with satellite shots of the space station Nathen had mentioned. “Oh, yes. The Vetrus System, if I recall correctly.”
“No,” Denver said, shaking his head. “That is not an option.”
Gordon looked up, suddenly intrigued. “Why not? It’s relatively close. It’s in friendly space. It’s entirely Human run, so we'd be surrounded by friendly faces.”
“Because it’s been converted,” Denver explained with a sigh. “It’s now a critical waypoint between Crakton Port and the Sterling Pass.”
The Captain ran his hand over a scroller and enlarged the picture. The old, large station looked like an upended barbell wearing a ballerina skirt made of solar panels. Not the most attractive design, or even the most effective by newer standards, but the Guardian II station had withstood the test of time.
“The Orbit Angel underwent some modifications in 5609,” Gordon said, reading off the report. “Apparently the Vetrus System was getting a lot of capital ship traffic, so instead of replacing it with a more capable station, the Orbit Angel was just heavily modified. It’s served as a weigh station for quite a while.”
“And it’s being flooded with mobilizing forces,” Denver added.
“So?” Gordon said.
“So, Captain, you have a mole. A mole who, as you've pointed out, seems to enjoy telling the enemy where our ships are moving. If he, she or it feels threatened, the mole is going to slip onto another ship and disappear. And then there will be a mole on a ship which we have no control over.” Denver leaned back and rested his arms on his chair's armrests. “I don't like it. Chose somewhere else. Go with one of the rogue factions.”
Gordon was nodding, about to agree, when Nathen stepped in and put his foot down.
“No,” he said, forcing Denver's attention. “The only way we can find this vaporous threat is by catching them in the act. We have to be somewhere they feel comfortable making a move—or feels they have to make a move—or we'll never find it.”
Denver scowled, disapprovingly. “You're willing to risk the integrity of our fleet.”
“The integrity is already compromised,” Nathen countered. “We act now, while we have the chance to fix it.”
Gordon sighed, shuffling his cigarettes. “This isn't a stand-up fight, Commander. This is a game only the enemy can win.”
Nathen cocked his head, placing one hand o
n his hip. “I prefer to think of it as engaging the enemy on their own terms. Cheating terms. Sometimes, the only way to win the game is to play by unfair rules.”
Denver was quiet, still not entirely convinced. After a moment, he shrugged. “Oh, very well. The Orbit Angel it is, I guess. At least you'll have no trouble getting in. Send me an alias and I’ll inform them that you’re coming. And Knight?”
Nathen stiffened. “Yes?”
“I hope you're wrong.” Denver looked from Nathen to Gordon. “I sincerely hope we're all wrong about this. But if we're not, I will dismember the ESCs to the ground to purge this threat. Fix it yourselves first, if you can.”
Nathen nodded his agreement. “Aye, sir.”
Denver nodded to a communications officer off screen. “Keep your wits about you, Commander Knight. And good luck.”
The screen went dark and Nathen let out a breath he’d been holding. “Well, that’s one thing out of the way. What now?”
Gordon hit a switch, and the screen returned to its normal ready mode. “I’d say we make for the Vetrus System. Unless you'd rather take souvenir photos of the exciting Gengar System.”
Nathen turned and headed for the hatch. “I’ll inform the others. Let me know if anything happens.”
Gordon didn’t watch Nathen as he left. “Trust me. If anything, you’ll know we’re screwed before I do.”
Nathen didn't take comfort in the thought.
***
The trip from the Gengar System to the Vetrus System would have taken Haven Alpha, with her advanced drives, a day at most. But after a brief scout into the next system, the ESCs discovered their return route being either patrolled by the Yew or used by the War Hive, possibly reinforcing their newfound foothold in the Menturion System. Grudgingly, Gordon ordered a backtrack and a slow and steady detour. Now, it would take at least three days. A long time to do nothing. In the mess hall, Trent, Doc, and Kyler entertained themselves with whatever amusements they thought up. Kyler was sitting on one side of the middle table, while Trent and Doc sat on the other. A small but steadily growing pile of money sat in the center. Kyler had his jacket off, sitting in his T-shirt with one elbow planted firmly on the tabletop. Doc took a deep breath and rolled up his sleeves past his elbows, taking a similar position. Kyler wrapped his bear's paw around Doc's hand and gripped in a sportsmanlike handshake. Kyler grinned at Doc, who arched an eyebrow in response.
Prime Alpha (Planetary Powers Book 1) Page 34