Sumiko spun around to face me and planted the end of her lance on the mat, using it to pole vault toward me, her bare feet aiming for my mask. She moved at blinding speed and by the time I knew what was happening, her kick sent me reeling back.
She followed the kick with a jab from the lance that connected with my thigh. I dropped my weapon and went down.
Sumiko jumped on me like a cat, straddling my stomach with her thighs, her lance held across my throat, just far enough away that the blue spark traveling along its length didn’t arc toward my skin.
“Do you concede?’ she asked gleefully.
“I concede,” I said, not daring to move.
“And that was the final round?”
“Yes,” I said. “Final round. You win.”
She got to her feet gracefully and stood over me, lifting her lance in the air above her head and shouting, “Yay!”
Sumiko Shibari definitely destroyed any preconceived ideas I might have had about the onna-bugeisha being solemn and stern warriors.
I sat up and removed my mask. Sumiko also removed hers, shaking out her long raven hair. “What would you like to try next?” she asked, pointing to the rack of practice weapons. “There are swords, fighting sticks, spark knives…”
“Is there any weapon you aren’t an expert in?” I asked.
She pursed her lips, thinking. Then she shook her head. “No, I am an expert in the use of all of these weapons and more.”
“I think I’ve had enough of being beaten up for one day,” I said. “We can train again when my wounds heal.”
A look of concern crossed her face. “You are wounded, Captain? Let me help you. I am also proficient with healing herbs and potions. I have many ingredients in my quarters.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m not really wounded. It was just a figure of speech.”
“Oh, I see.” The happy expression that seemed to be her default look returned to her face.
I looked up at her. She fascinated me, not least because of the genuine happiness she seemed to possess. “How did you end up on this ship?” I asked her. “On this mission?”
“You are surprised that I am here?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. I’ve heard tales about the onna-bugeisha and from what I understand, they fight against threats to their home planet, Kamakura, not on private missions to save a billionaire’s daughter.”
Sumiko nodded. “Yes, I can see your confusion.” She sat next to me on the mat, cross-legged. “I left Kamakura two years ago. Since then, I have been selling my skills. This is how I survive. It is rare for an onna-bugeisha to live like this and I only do it because I have to. I cannot return to my home planet.”
“Why not?” I asked. Her face had momentarily become sad, something that was out of character for Sumiko.
“It is a long story and I am not sure I would like to tell it at the moment.” Her expression brightened. “Do you have a story, Captain? A man like you, a man in charge of this ship and all its crew, must have led an interesting life.”
I shrugged. “My story isn’t all that interesting. I joined the Imperium Academy when I was eighteen and fought in the Horde War. I slowly worked my way up the chain of command, which wasn’t really all that difficult because fatalities in the war were high. It was a dangerous life and there were moments of despair and sorrow. I saw friends and colleagues die in horrible ways on planets that were light years from home. It was tough.
“When I was finally given command of my own ship, I felt like everything I had worked for had been handed to me in one moment, the moment I first saw the Oregon. She was beautiful, all sleek lines and curves despite her immense size. Her previous captain, and most of his crew, had been killed during a skirmish with Horde aliens on a planet somewhere. I inherited the remaining crew and was given fresh personnel to replace the crew members who had been lost in the skirmish.”
“Did you command the Oregon for long before she was destroyed?”
“Not long enough,” I said wistfully. “We only flew a couple of missions before the Oregon was blown up.”
Sumiko nodded thoughtfully. “I was told that you quit the Imperium after that. Did you blame yourself for what happened to your ship?”
Her question was direct and asked with an honest curiosity.
I nodded. “Yes, I did. After the destruction of the Oregon, I left the Imperium and ended up on Iton-3. I didn’t want to be responsible for any more lives. I was barely responsible for my own.”
“Yet here you are,” she said, smiling. “A captain again. Our captain.”
“Here I am,” I said.
“You wish to save the crew you lost and make everything okay again,” she said.
I shrugged. “It isn’t that simple, Sumiko. There may be survivors on Savarea and we might be able to save them but the entire crew didn’t make it to the planet’s surface; that would be impossible. I’m still responsible for the deaths of the ones who went down with the ship. I feel duty-bound to help rescue the survivors but I will never forget the lost ones, the people who died on the Oregon. Rescuing a few survivors won’t make everything okay again.”
She went quiet for a moment and then said, “You were fighting in a war when the Oregon was destroyed.”
“Yes,” I said.
“People die in wars, Captain. I am sure that the crew knew the risks they were taking. You cannot be held responsible for what happened.”
She was right, of course. I knew that. People died in wars all the time and it was nobody’s fault. I knew that, logically. But logic had nothing to do with my emotions, and as far as they were concerned, I was responsible for every last person on the Oregon.
“It isn’t that simple,” I told Sumiko before getting to my feet. “Thank you for the fighting practice.” I needed to get back to my quarters and rest my aching muscles. I hadn’t felt this sore in a long time.
I hadn’t felt this exhilarated in a long time either.
“Thank you, Captain,” Sumiko said. “I value the lesson I learned from you during the fight.”
“You learned something from me?” I asked incredulously. “What was that?”
She grinned. “I learned that you use dirty tricks to score a hit on your opponent.”
“Hmm,” I said. “And now that you’ve learned it, my dirty tricks won’t work again, will they?”
“No, they won’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I will be ready for you next time.”
I laughed and waved to her as I exited the gym.
The transporter took me to the crew quarters’ deck and I stepped out into the corridor, rubbing my aching thigh.
That was when something hit me from behind. I hadn’t been expecting the blow but my reflexes sent me rolling with it, lessening its impact on the back of my neck. I rolled into a crouch, facing a man I had never seen before.
He was dressed like one of Hart’s soldiers, complete with a military buzz cut, and he had a look on his face that wasn’t anger or rage, but a cool expression of detachment. As if he was simply carrying out an order. Nothing personal. He was just here to kill me.
I reached for the blaster at my hip but before I had it leveled at him, he swung his boot into the weapon, sending it clattering across the floor. He aimed a second kick for my face. I threw myself backward to avoid the heavy boot and quickly regained my feet.
He came for me, arms raised and hands clawed as if he were going to try and strangle me. I wondered why he didn’t use his blaster. If he wanted to kill me, there were easier ways than hand-to-hand combat.
The soldier lunged forward and I side-stepped quickly. As his momentum carried him past me, I used both fists to club him on the back of the neck, sending him sprawling.
I ran for my blaster. But before I could reach it, my attacker leaped onto my legs, bringing me down to the hard floor. I landed heavily and all the air was knocked out of my lungs. As I tried to catch a breath, the soldier straddled my back and I felt his hands close around my throat
as he attempted to squeeze the life out of me.
My blaster was almost close enough to reach. I stretched my arm out but my fingertips barely made contact with the butt of the gun.
Unable to breathe and feeling my body beginning to lose strength, I summoned everything I had left to buck myself forward a couple of inches with the weight of the soldier on my back.
My fingers wrapped around the blaster and I brought it above my head, pointing backward. I squeezed the trigger.
The man on my back fell to the side heavily. I struggled to my feet and sucked in a deep breath, immediately wishing I hadn’t.
The smell of charred flesh reached my nostrils and I struggled not to vomit. Stepping away from the body, I leaned against the wall and waited for my strength to return and the light-headedness to go away.
The soldier had been shot in the upper chest, the hole still smoking. The heat of the blast had instantly cauterized the fatal wound, so there was no blood, but the smell of cooked meat still lingered in the air.
Who was he? Who had sent him? I didn’t believe he was just some crazy acting on his own volition. The tracking device in the engine room had convinced me there was more going on in this ship than met the eye and this attack only confirmed it.
I was still pondering the soldier’s actions when the transporter door slid open. Jane Baltimore and Sergeant Hart emerged, weapons drawn.
I pointed at the body and glared at Hart. “Is he one of yours?”
He bent down and inspected the corpse. Nodding grimly, he said, “That’s Provost. He is…he was…one of my men.”
“He tried to kill me,” I said.
Baltimore frowned at me. “What happened?”
“He came at me when I got off the transporter. Tried to strangle me.” That still didn’t make sense. Why not just shoot me and get the job done quickly?
“Why didn’t he shoot you?” she asked. It was the obvious question, after all.
I pondered it for a minute or two. I looked at the body, then back at Baltimore. “Why did you and Hart come down to this deck?”
“The computer informed the bridge that a weapon had been discharged here.”
Things were beginning to make more sense. “Of course. That’s why he didn’t shoot me. He knew the ship’s computer would report the shot and he would be found out. Even if he managed to escape the scene before you arrived, you’d find his gun and the weapon’s internal log would show that it had been fired at that time.” I nodded to myself, a theory taking shape. “He wanted to kill me without using a weapon so he could get away with it.”
“But why was he trying to kill you in the first place?” Baltimore asked. “Apart from the obvious reasons, of course.”
I shot her a sardonic grin but she had a point. Why try to kill me?
Before I had chance to think it over, Baltimore said, “I know why,”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “I know I’m a pain…”
“No, I’m being serious,” she cut in. “If someone wanted to stop this mission going ahead, and they didn’t want to do something drastic like destroying the ship, they would only have to take out two people. You and Vess. You two each have a personal stake in this mission’s success and are motivated to carry it out. Everyone else on the ship is simply being paid to do a job. With you and Vess gone, the mission would fall apart.”
We looked at each other, a sudden realization entering our minds. “Computer,” I said, “what is the current location of Solomon Vess?”
“Solomon Vess is in the gymnasium,” the feminine voice said.
“Is he alone?”
“Affirmative.”
“Hart, you stay here,” I said. I wasn’t so sure I trusted Hart since the body on the floor had been one of his men and I decided it was better to keep him here. “Don’t let anyone touch that body. Baltimore, let’s go.” As long as Vess was alone, he was safe. Maybe my fears for his safety were unfounded. It might be that Provost was the only killer on board the Finch and had been planning to kill Vess after he killed me, in which case I had neutralized the threat.
“Computer,” I said, “let me know if anyone else enters the gymnasium.”
The calm voice replied, “Trooper Ronald Gorman has just entered the gymnasium, Captain.”
I ran for the transporter.
CHAPTER 9
THE TRANSPORTER DOOR opened and Baltimore and I sprinted into the gym, guns drawn.
Vess was at the far end of the room, near the windows that projected the beach scene, backing away from a soldier who was advancing on him, fists raised.
“Halt!” I shouted.
The soldier stopped and turned to look at me. He had the same expressionless gaze as the guy who had attacked me.
Keeping my gun raised, I moved forward, Baltimore by my side.
The soldier had a blaster pistol at his hip but he didn’t go for it. He simply stood there, staring at us as we approached. He had to know there was no way he could kill Vess or me without being taken down. There was no option other than surrender.
Once we could put him in a cell, we might find out who had ordered him and Provost to kill Vess and me. We might even find out who had put the tracker on the ship, assuming the two things were related. And at the moment, I was definitely working on the assumption that they were related.
“Put your hands up,” I told him. “Nobody has to get hurt.”
Instead of putting up his hands, he went for the gun at his hip. Baltimore and I both shot him and he collapsed to the gym floor with two smoking holes in his chest.
Vess looked at us with panic in his eyes. “What’s happening? He came in here and I could see he wanted to hurt me. If you two hadn’t arrived in time…” He let that thought trail off.
“It’s okay,” I said. “We did get here in time. But you need to come with us. You might still be in danger.”
He nodded. “Yes, yes of course.”
I looked at the body on the floor. Gorman must have known he had no chance yet he went for his weapon anyway. “Now we have no way of interrogating him,” I told Baltimore.
“Maybe that was the point,” she said. “He knew we were going to kill him as soon as he reached for that gun, but he did it anyway. And now, as you say, we can’t interrogate him.”
“You really think he’s some kind of fanatic who would rather die than risk talking about his superiors?”
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “And it doesn’t bode well.”
We led a still-worried Vess to the transporter. “Where to?” I asked Baltimore as the door whispered shut.
“The bridge. Only bridge personnel are allowed in there. None of Hart’s men are authorized.”
“What about Hart himself?” I asked.
“No, he’s not authorized either,” she said.
“But I can vouch for Hart personally,” Vess said. “I’ve known him for years.”
“I’m not saying Hart himself is implicated,” I told him. “But one of his men attacked me earlier and another has attacked you. Even if we trust Hart, we can’t trust his soldiers.”
Vess looked confused. “But why? I don’t understand what’s happening.”
The transporter door opened and we moved quickly to the bridge door. It opened to allow us access. I asked Vess, “Is there anyone you can think of who doesn’t want this mission to go ahead?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No one. What does that have to do with any of this?”
Morrow was on the bridge, seated at his console. He turned to look at us with a questioning expression on his face, but I didn’t have the inclination to fill him in on what was happening. Someone else could do that.
“You and I are the linchpins of this mission,” I said to Vess. “We both have a personal stake in its outcome. If we were removed, it would probably be abandoned, which is obviously what someone wants.”
“Why would they want that?” Vess asked.
“And why not just attack the ship?” Baltimore stood
with her hands on her hips by the window, framed against the backdrop of shimmering stars. “If someone wanted this mission to be abandoned, all they would have to do is blow the Finch out of space.”
“They could try to do that,” I said, taking my seat, “but that would attract attention. Think of the headlines on the net. ‘Solomon Vess, galactic billionaire, killed when the ship he is taking to rescue his daughter from Savarea is attacked.’ There would be an investigation. The investigators might find out something that the attackers want to be kept secret.”
“Like what?” Morrow asked, joining in the conversation.
I thought about that for a moment and then asked him, “What do we know about Savarea?”
He shrugged. “Nothing at all. It’s in Horde space and we can’t scan the planet’s surface.”
“Maybe there’s something there,” I said, “that someone wants to keep hidden.”
“And who do you think that someone is?” Baltimore asked.
I sighed. I didn’t like what I had to say next. “The soldier who attacked me had an almost lifeless expression on his face, and the one who attacked Vess died rather than be interrogated. There’s only one faction I know of that inspires that kind of mindless attack and self-sacrifice.”
“The Outsiders,” Baltimore whispered.
A hush descended over the bridge as we all considered the implications of that. The Outsiders were the masterminds behind the plot against humanity. Somehow, they could bend other alien races to their will and form the Horde. Up until now, they hadn’t done that with humans but if Provost and Gorman were under the command of the Outsiders, then that meant a huge shift had taken place in our struggle against the faceless aliens. Somehow they had infiltrated the human race and insinuated their influence into the Imperium, our galactic government.
Vess asked, “Captain, could you be wrong about that? If the Outsiders have managed to get inside the Imperium, there’s no telling what damage they could do.”
I spread my fingers. “I hope I’m wrong but I can’t think of any other explanation for the behavior of those two soldiers. We need to talk to Hart and find out exactly where those men came from and how they ended up on this ship.” I looked at Vess. “Are you sure we can trust Hart?”
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