Honor from Ashes (Honor and Duty Book 3)

by Amanda S Green

  “That’s certainly true.” Ortega joined her. “But it does make things more difficult. There may not be any Midlothians in either First or Second Fleets, or the attached Marine detachments, but there are in other branches of our military.”

  “I know. All we can do is assume – and hope – the President and the others take that into consideration.” She blew out a breath and then glanced at her wrist unit. “The battalion should be gathered. My mother reserved the auditorium for us. Let’s get this done.”

  “And then?”

  “I’m giving everyone leave until 0600. Those who knew Hammer will need time to deal with the news. The rest, well, they can use the time to prepare for an increase in our training. I have a feeling the shit is going to hit the fan and much sooner than any of us anticipated.”

  Ortega nodded. “Be honest with me now. Are you all right?”

  “I’m about as all right as you are, Luce.” She let her sorrow show for a moment, knowing her friend would understand. “It’s not going to be easy to tell the battalion about Hammer. It’s going to be harder to tell Jake. You know how much he adored Hammer.”

  “Hell, Ash, we all did. He taught each of us what it means to be a Devil Dog.”

  “He did. Now we owe it to him to pass on that knowledge to those who come after us.” She closed her eyes and offered up a quick prayer for her mentor’s soul. “Now, let’s go tell the Devil Dogs what is being asked of them this time.”

  With that, she turned on her heel and left her office, her XO hurrying after her.

  * * *

  The door slid shut with a muted swoosh. In the silence the followed, the snick of the locking mechanism engaging seemed almost unnaturally loud. It was followed almost instantly by a soft hum that signaled the activation of the portable privacy shield. From where she stood, hidden in the shadows across the room, Evan Moreau nodded in satisfaction. She had spent a great deal of money on the system. Lives depended on its ability to insure no prying eyes or ears intercepted their conversation. More importantly, her life depended on it.

  Not that Raoul Frietas realized it. Over the course of their business relationship, she had come to understand that he rarely gave such security precautions more than a passing thought. He carried his own portable unit that he always made a show out of using. One part of her wondered how he had managed to survive as long as he had without being more careful. But another part was glad he wasn’t more suspicious. It made getting information from him so much easier.

  A frown touched her lips as Frietas all but sagged against the door. She didn’t miss the way he checked to make sure the locks had engaged. Nor did she miss the way his right hand patted a slight bulge in his jacket pocket, as if making sure something was still there. Suspicion mixed with a healthy dose of professional paranoia flared. Had he actually come to their meeting armed?

  If so, why?

  Moreau took a half step back, moving deeper into the shadows cloaking the far end of the room. As she did, she checked her own weapons. Her movements were slow, calculated to do nothing to draw attention to where she stood. She would not step out until she had a better feel for what was going on.

  Frietas turned away from the door. As he did, he blew out a shuddering breath. For a moment, he lowered his head, almost as if in prayer. His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. Fear rose off of him, so strong Moreau could smell it. Swallowing hard, she waited, wondering what had gone wrong.

  Not willing to take any chances, she reached into her jacket pocket and entered a command code by touch into her datapad. If everything went as it should, the room’s security had just been increased. No one would be able to enter or leave without her approval. More importantly, she would be notified if anyone or anything entered the floor the room was located on. It wouldn’t be much but it should be enough to let her deal with Freitas.

  Now all she had to do was find out what had Frietas so spooked.

  “All right, Raoul. Why the SOS?” Moreau asked as she stepped into the pool of light illuminating the middle of the room.

  He started nervously and spun in her direction. Seeing how his hand moved toward the bulge in his pocket, she acted. Before he could respond, she closed the distance between them. Her hand closed firmly over his wrist, stopping him from reaching for whatever he had hidden. As he looked at her, he blanched. Good. He had seen she would not let him do anything foolish, to either of them.

  “Easy,” she soothed. “And I’ll ask again. Why the SOS?”

  “I-I wanted to let you know that everything went as planned.” He motioned for her to be seated at the table in the center of the room.

  She nodded, noting how his hand trembled. Something had rattled him and that worried her. Perhaps it was time to move up the timetable on dealing with him, especially if he was losing his nerve.

  “What is it, Raoul? What is worrying you?” She sat and watched as he joined her.

  For a moment, he said nothing. Instead, he poured them each a glass of wine from the bottle she had ordered when she reserved the room. For the first time, he did not immediately drink. Whatever happened had worried him enough that he obviously did not trust her. Well, she could handle that. She gave a slight nod and lifted her glass, taking a sip and relishing the vintage. He might choose not to enjoy it but she had no such compunctions.

  “I’m waiting,” she prompted as she sipped again.

  “I heard about Kannady.”

  Surprised, she wondered what he had heard – or what he was implying. Then, seeing how he waited for her response, she nodded once. “A tragic accident.”

  “Was it?”

  She carefully placed her wine glass on the tabletop. When she looked at him, the color drained from his face.

  “Are you suggesting it wasn’t, Raoul?”

  She spoke softly. Her gaze never wavered as she studied him. Sweat pricked out on his forehead. The fear she had sensed in him when he first arrived returned full-force. She saw it in his quick intake of breath, in the way his hand fisted on the tabletop before he hid it out of sight under the table. What it meant, she wasn’t sure. All she knew for certain was he could no longer be trusted. Fear made him a liability. She would deal with him as she had Kannady. There wouldn’t be a corner dark enough or a hole deep enough for him to hide in, in this system or any other.

  “No.” He looked like he might be sick at any moment. “The news shook me, that’s all.”

  She could believe that.

  “It shook me as well.” She leaned back and set her wineglass down. “But accidents happen. You know that.”

  He nodded and she sensed reluctance in him. “I only wondered if the government had found out what he was up to and took the easy way out.”

  She frowned. The suggestion was plausible, at least under the previous administration. She had no doubt there were members of the government, not to mention military, who would deal with traitors in the most expedient way possible. What bothered her was that Frietas had thought about it. Could he be worried about meeting such an end himself?

  More importantly, if so, why?

  “As far as I know, it was just that – an accident.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She fought the urge to frown. Who was he to doubt her?

  “I am.” She reached across the table and lightly rested her hand on his. As she did, she saw him fight the urge to flinch. Frustration flared as did determination. The last thing she needed was him running to the authorities and telling what he knew. “Raoul, you know my sources would have let me know if we had anything to worry about.”

  “And his files?”

  “Scrubbed.”

  Just as his would be as soon as she dealt with him. Then she had better figure out why this mission had gone so badly wrong. If she didn’t, Kannady and Frietas wouldn’t be the only ones losing their lives. Since she preferred living to the alternative, she had to act fast.

  “Now, what else is bothering you, Raoul?” She leaned forwa
rd, elbows on the table, chin resting on her fists.

  He sipped his wine and she knew he was trying to figure out what to say. “There’s been a change in management on the Council.”

  “Again, not that unexpected. Harper has been cleaning house since he took office.”

  He nodded. “True but Lydia Matthias is known for not only coming in and shaking things up but for rooting out not only inefficiency but security risks as well.”

  “Then I suggest you make sure you don’t appear to be either.”

  She didn’t care if he heard the threat behind her words or not. It didn’t matter. His days – no, his hours – were numbered. He simply didn’t know it, yet.

  “I assure you, there is nothing that will lead her to me. I was simply warning you in case you had anyone else there who might not be as careful as I am.”

  “No worries, Raoul. There are no others.”

  He opened his mouth to say something and then closed. It. For a moment, she wondered what he’d been about to say. Then she shrugged it off. It didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. Not any longer.

  “Is there anything else you need to tell me?” she asked.

  “Not at the moment.”

  She checked her wrist unit and stood. Gentleman that he was, Frietas followed suit, just as she had known he would. They stepped around the table until they stood close enough to shake hands. “Keep your head, Raoul. I would hate to hear that something happened to you.”

  She reached for his hand. Before the import of her words sank in, he reached for her hand. As the fingers of her right hand closed around his, she gave her left arm a slight shake. The hilt of her blade fit perfectly in her hand. She stepped closer, leaning in as if to whisper something to him.

  “Sorry, Raoul, but you are a loose end,” she said softly as she slid the blade between his ribs, twisting it to do the most damage.

  He took a short step back. Shock filled his expression. He opened his mouth to cry out but only a soft gasp escaped his lips. Gently, she lowered him to the floor. As blood flowed from the wound, pooling on the floor at his side, she quickly searched him. Without a word, she pocketed the small stunner he’d brought with him as well as his other electronics. Then she sat back on her heels, watching as the life slowly drained away with each beat of his heart.

  “Don’t worry, Raoul. You will be reported as the unfortunate victim of a terrorist attack. A bomb will go off, damaging the building but destroying this room and most of the floor in just a few minutes. You will sadly be caught in the explosion.”

  “H-have in-insurance.”

  “Which will be gone before your body, what will be left of it, is identified.” She stood and carefully wiped her hands on one of the napkins. Then she dropped it and her now empty wine glass into her bag. Even though the explosion would destroy everything in the room, she didn’t want to risk any residual DNA being left behind to be found during the investigation.

  “I’ll be sure to make a generous donation to your favorite charity once your death is announced.”

  As she left the room, she closed and locked the door behind her. A simple command sequence once she was safely outside would deal with the mess that had been Raoul Frietas. All she had to do was find a way to finish her mission before her handlers decided she, too, had become a loose end.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “WHAT NOW?”

  Anton Dorescu glared at his first officer as the hatch slid shut behind the younger man. Only one thing would cause him to risk his commander’s wrath. Something else had happened. Such announcements no longer surprised Dorescu. The mission, and the Anubis, had been plagued with problems from the beginning. Worse, as long as Command kept his hand tied with their idiotic directives, the problems would only grow worse.

  How many times had he been forced to intercede in matters that should never have arisen? How many of his crew had been reprimanded – or worse – by the new constraints put on them? And all because idiot politicians who had never seen battle, much less been on the front line, decided they needed new allies. Allies that would not let them fight the sort of battle they knew how to win.

  Worse, to accomplish the new goals, Command had saddled him with four advisors. He had no doubt at least some of his superiors fully expected him to deal with the four in such a way they presented no threat to the real mission. So far, he had managed to do just that with three of them. Two had met their ends as a result of injuries suffered “during the course of battle”. The fact those injuries had actually been caused by friendly fire didn’t matter. None of his people had any use for their Midlothian brothers. Scuttlebutt had it the crew was posturing to see who would get the assignment to remove the last advisor from their midst.

  Unfortunately for Dorescu’s peace of mind, Bernard Hughes was much smarter and had a more finely honed sense of self-preservation than the others had possessed. Worse, he made no attempt to hide his suspicions about what happened to his fellow Midlothians. Dorescu suspected he was somehow managing to report back to his handlers without going through the ship’s comm. That meant they would have to be very careful in how they dispatched him. They could not risk the Midlothians complaining to the powers that be. Dorescu might not appreciate having Hughes looking over his shoulder and questioning his every move but he did like the improved weaponry and systems they had received from the Midlothians. Not even he would risk losing the technical support of their new allies, at least not until they had defeated Fuercon. Then he wanted to be leading the attack force sent to show Midlothian where the power really rested.

  In the meantime, he had to find a way to deal with Hughes. If he didn’t, the crew would. While that might be the easiest way of handling their so-called advisor, the potential for crew unrest to lead to mutiny was too great. If he did not handle Hughes, neither of them would live long.

  Damn the man!

  Bad enough Hughes told him – Him! – how to conduct a successful mission. Worse, Hughes refused to let his people take their rightful rewards once they completed a mission. He would not let them bring onboard the slaves they wanted, slaves they had earned. Nor would he allow them the ancient right of pillaging. What incentive did his people have to continue the mission if their wallets and entertainment were curtailed?

  And why, by all that was holy, did Command go along with such orders?

  Worse, at least as far as Dorescu was concerned, was the fact he could not explain the change in orders to his crew. All they knew was their once strong captain was now hamstrung by a foreigner who refused to let them be the warriors and conquerors they were. Dorescu knew he was lucky not to have had a knife slipped between his ribs already.

  “For once, nothing is wrong,” Pyotyr Kovacz said as he took the seat Dorescu indicated. “At least nothing more than usual.” He gave a half-shrug.

  “And?”

  “We have received new orders.”

  Dorescu sat up, his interest piqued. Since being ordered to leave the Cassius System, the taskforce had been engaged in hit-and-run missions, harrying the commerce channels and not much else. Hopefully, the new orders would give his people something other than their discontent to focus on.

  “We are to translate to the Dathamay System as soon as Commander Rouhipour arrives with the 357th taskforce. Command included and ETA for the 357th of end of the ship’s week.”

  Dorescu nodded, a thoughtful look on his expression. The Dathamay System was unallied in the current war. The last intel he had seen on the system had been sparse but so, according to the data, was system security. That meant it would probably be easy pickings. Better yet, it might be the perfect place to deal with Hughes in a very permanent fashion.

  “Our orders once there?”

  “We join forces with the 114th taskforce 22nd BatCruRon under the command of Captain Mahmoud. You will be senior officer, sir.” Now Kovacz grinned, an evil gleam lighting his eyes. “Our orders are to take the system and hold it. Use it as an example of what will happen to all systems th
at refuse to capitulate to our rule.”

  “Any word about our guest?”

  “We are to take no overt action against him. Command wants nothing to happen that might strain our relations with our allies. However, accidents do happen, especially on ships in the middle of battle.”

  “Excellent, my friend. I leave the arrangements to you.”

  With that, Dorescu swung his chair around so he could stare out the viewport. He could trust Kovacz to make sure the accident appeared to be exactly that. Over the years, his first officer had carried out a number of similar missions for him. Now he simply had to make sure no one in the crew did anything foolish before Kovacz was ready to put his plan into action. But for now, he needed some release and knew his friend did as well. Hughes may have tried to deny them all their rewards, but he hadn’t been entirely successful.

  Thankfully. Otherwise, Dorescu would have been forced to kill him before Command was ready for him to.

  Even so, that didn’t make their orders any easier to swallow. There were still so many slaves to be had, so much plunder to be found. And it was all denied to him and his crew. They should be rich men by now. That was the natural order of things. The conquerors had the right to anything or anyone within the lands they defeated. Hughes had denied that bounty to them and Dorescu resented it. He had railed against it as well, reminding Hughes of the potential for mutiny if the men were denied all of their bounty. The Midlothian had reluctantly agreed to a little reward. It wasn’t much but soon, very soon, much more would join it.

  For now, Dorescu planned to enjoy what little he had been allowed.

  He activated his comm. “Send my latest toy in and then make sure the First Officer and I aren’t disturbed,” he ordered.

  A few moments later, the hatch slid open. One of Dorescu’s personal guards entered, leading a young woman by a chain connected to a heavy metal collar. The collar was the only thing she wore. Her eyes glazed with panic and remembered fear as she saw the men sitting across the room. A moan escaped her lips and she collapsed into a heap on the floor. Ignoring her, Dorescu snapped his fingers and held out one hand. The guard cross the room, dragging the woman after him. Then he handed the end of the chain to his commanding officer.