With a tightened jaw, Captain Forseth glanced toward his navigator. Heet’s face was ashen; he had always been an animal lover. Once on some planet or another, Larren had seen him put his own life at risk to rescue a stray pup from the flames of burning wreckage.
Stein, Darla’s Medical Officer, had been studying one of the corpses, recording everything, and obtaining medical and forensic samples. “No possibility of some freak biological illness or disease, sir,” he said. “These animals have been gassed.”
Drake, who had walked some distance, began to run back toward them. Larren wondered why his pilot was running and why he hadn’t just sent an Icom message. Larren tried to access Icom, but it was offline. What? Only an enormous power source could disable Icom. A thrill of shock and unease made him draw in a sharp breath as he searched the Delian skies. What in Perdition was going on?
“Captain,” Drake’s voice was high and urgent as he arrived out of breath. “Another vessel is signaling, relaying only to myself as Darla’s pilot. Icom is blocked for all communication. It’s Conqueror, ordering us to return to Darla Wu. They want us to dock within their vessel. They order immediate compliance or they’ll fire on us, sir. And sir,” he breathed, “the Admiral — his name is Neopol.”
That knowledge struck Captain Forseth like a punch to the chest. They were all in serious trouble. He and his crew were caught in a trap, with a fleet warship sealing off all chance of escape. But how had Neopol and Conqueror known where to find them?
With a solid thud of metal against metal, Darla Wu settled into Conqueror’s enormous holding bay. The sound of docking clamps engaging was typical and familiar, yet today it made him think of prison doors slamming shut.
With effort, Captain Larren Forseth maintained a composed expression. His crew looked toward him with trust in their eyes. Whatever this misunderstanding was, he knew they expected their Captain would get them out of it. Larren took a deep breath and hoped their confidence wasn’t misplaced. He had told no one except Drake the truth about the Lady Sartha and her son. It was safer that way. Knowing nothing was as much protection as he could give the Delian escapees. Now he was sorry that he had confided in Drake.
Sartha’s words about Neopol echoed in Larren’s mind. “I’m afraid he’ll kill you.” He reassured himself that the Lady Sartha was only a mind-reader and not a prophetic seer.
Darla’s portal opened to reveal an armed detachment of grim, no-nonsense Marines waiting with their service weapons drawn.
“You in Darla Wu. Come out unarmed, with your hands up where we can see them. Any unexpected move and you’ll be shot,” a voice outside ordered.
Darla’s crew filed out with arms held high. Once on Conqueror’s deck each man was hand cuffed, none too gently, arms behind their backs.
“Hey,” Larren objected, “go easy. We haven’t done anything. What’s this all about?” he asked, protesting their arrest as well as the rough treatment.
A Marine dressed in combat utility tan, twisted his arm with brutal force. “We know just what you’ve done, murderer.”
“Murderer?” Larren queried, repeating the word in an astonished tone. “We came to Delian to investigate a report that the planet had been gassed. We are policemen — not criminals …” A tall, heavyset Officer arrived, interrupting him before he could explain further. Larren noticed he wore Admiral’s stripes on his impeccable fleet dress blues.
“That is enough, Captain Forseth.” The Admiral slurred his title as if he had never earned or deserved the position. “We know exactly what you and your little band of traitors have done. We saw the results of your handiwork on Delian.” He gestured to the Captain of the Guard with well-manicured hands. Larren was momentarily surprised to see a number of heavy gold rings on the Admiral’s fingers. “Take them to detention. I’ll personally deal with them there.”
“Wait,” Larren said loudly. “We didn’t commit genocide …”
A man in charge of Larren hit him in the stomach with his baton, demonstrating the full force of his rage and disgust. Winded, Larren said no more as he was roughly dragged away, yet he didn’t understand it. Fleet personnel didn’t act like this. Why were these Marines so certain that he and his crew were guilty?
The rest of Darla Wu’s men received similar treatment. The arresting Marines of Conqueror despised them and they were determined to show it. Neopol stood by, listening to the sounds of struggle, beatings and protests, all in clear violation of Fleet detainment protocols. Larren noticed that the Admiral was not opposed to such blatant demonstrations of hostility, nor did he attempt to hide his satisfied smile.
On the detention deck, Darla Wu’s crew lined up, waiting for the Admiral. Many already had torn shirts and bloody faces. Individual possessions had been taken from the men, carefully labeled and placed in boxes for later examination. Larren, with dismay, had been forced to relinquish the clear Plexiglas marble that encompassed a little blue stone. The loss of his childhood good luck charm seemed an ominous portent.
The Admiral arrived and studied them dispassionately. “Men of Darla Wu … or should I say animals.” His face hardened. No one objected. They had already discovered what happened when one disagreed. “We know that you’re guilty of genocide.” He seemed amused at the silent opposition in their eyes. “Lock them into the chairs. Ensure they’re secure. After that, you may leave me to deal with them. Sub-Lieutenant Janson, Dr. Ching, Dr. Smith and I know what to do.”
“Aye aye, sir,” came a chorus of voices. The Marines did as ordered and then they were alone.
“My dear Captain Larren Forseth,” the Admiral said, standing over him. “So good to finally meet you face to face.”
Larren remained silent.
“I am Admiral Neopol, and you and your men have information I want. For instance, what was the planned destination of the Delian warship, Assurance?”
“That was in my report.”
“I don’t believe you, Captain. I think that you are hiding something.” Neopol’s voice seemed deceptively mild. He appeared calm, but his eyes, bright and excited, gave him away. Larren felt a shock of real fear after looking into those eyes. Neopol was enjoying this. Was he insane? Or some sort of sadist?
From further down the room, one of the crew from Darla Wu objected loudly over something. For a moment both men were distracted. Neopol intervened, giving instructions to one of his adjutants, and the room became quiet once more.
Neopol turned his alert, penetrating gaze back to Larren.
This man is dangerous, Larren thought. He steadily met Neopol’s examination, overcoming a nervous impulse to lick his lips or to give in to his now urgent need to swallow. Over an extended period of time Larren knew he wouldn’t be able to stand up to such concentrated scrutiny. Never had Sartha and her son been in more peril. Larren alone knew their actual plans. There was nothing for it. He had no idea how to achieve it, but the only safe way to ensure Neopol never knew his secret was for him to die with that knowledge unspoken. But how could he get Neopol to kill him? The Admiral had a supersized ego. Perhaps simple taunting would do the trick.
Neopol snapped his fingers and Janson placed a patch on Larren’s temporal pulse. Larren knew it for a lie detector.
“Now, Captain,” Neopol asked again, with a dangerous edge. “Where was the woman bound?”
“Truso.”
Neopol nodded and Janson hit him with a baton, a swinging full-strength blow to his unprotected shins. Larren bit back a scream and grunted as the sudden pain forced the air from his lungs.
“You were lying, Captain,” Neopol softly admonished.
Larren regained his breath and said, “Truso.”
The Admiral nodded and Janson, with detached precision struck him again in exactly the same place as before. This time Larren did scream.
“Listen, Captain Forseth,” Neopol explained. “I need to know where Assurance has gone and I need to know now. You may believe me when I say the woman won’t be harmed.” He crossed his ar
ms and stared at his captive, his expression implacable.
Gritting his teeth, Larren raised his head, scanned the man’s face, and remained silent. The Admiral was lying. He intended to kill the Lady Sartha and her son, Larren felt sure of it. That thought made Larren angry and that was good. Anger brought out a stubborn quality within him that made him fearless.
“You know,” Neopol said, “I pride myself in being able to pick my man — to spot every weakness.” He spun and began to pace. “In your case, I have spent considerable time studying the police net concerning you and your exploits.” He turned to face his captive. “You are a mildly interesting case, but despite your accomplishments I believe that we will discover you are quite predictable.”
Neopol raised one heavily ringed hand with a flourish, and gestured into the air. “A dashing warrior. A hero. The man who risks his own life for others.” He grinned mockingly. “I know the type.”
“And what type are you, Neopol?” Larren was moved to ask with abrasive contempt. “Liar? Cheat? Baby killer?”
With unexpected fury Neopol punched his prisoner in the face. One ornate ring caught on Larren’s cheek, and the force of the blow drew blood. Larren’s vision blurred and he felt his eye begin to swell.
“You are a fool,” Neopol said, his face flushed with rage. “An unfortunate, tiny little man, who will never look further than helping others — others who are just as tiny and unfortunate as yourself. You have no idea of what I am capable, of what I have already achieved. My entire career I have researched the human animal, those base, senseless creatures that have no foresight. People need to be protected. Without direction and order they are too dangerous to live.” The Admiral’s expression became absorbed. “I am so close. I can feel it. Soon I’ll be able to control or destroy anyone, on any world.”
Larren began an intentionally derisive laugh. “Me the fool? You’re the fool. You’ve wasted your life. You began with the wrong premise.” In his heart he knew the truth, it was like a revelation. “You’ll never know how to control those who are better than you. People can be beaten into compliance. They can be forced to obey, but the moment your back is turned, they will fight their oppression. People have the choice of their own destiny,” he said with contempt, “and you are insane.”
In a fury Neopol pulled out his sidearm. His jaw clenched and his face became red with apoplectic rage. He aimed the weapon at Forseth and suddenly stopped. Larren saw the big man’s tight jaw begin to loosen. Neopol let out his breath and returned his side arm to its holster.
The two men stared silently at each other for a long moment.
Neopol’s lip curled and the tableau broke.
“Very clever, Captain, but I saw no fear in your eyes. Were you attempting to make me lose my temper and kill you out of hand?” He gave a satisfied nod and said, “You may be more intelligent than I thought.” Neopol paced for a few minutes until he appeared to regain his composure.
“Allow me to show you, Captain, just how predictable you are.” He gave Larren a mocking smile and a roguish conspiratorial wink. He pointed to the nearest of Larren’s men, who happened to be Wright.
“Doctor Ching,” he asked, “will you be so good as to examine this subject?”
“Yes, sir,” Dr. Ching replied. He scanned Wright, noticeably transmitting relevant information to an Icom display on the detention room wall. “Ready, sir.”
“The heart,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir,” replied Smith. He placed a small flat sphere of metal directly over the Armaments Officer’s heart. Wright was unable to keep the dread from showing in his expression.
“All set, sir.
“You may begin.”
Wright, despite tight bindings, almost leaped from his chair with a prolonged scream.
“Stop,” shouted Larren desperately. “You’re killing him.”
Neopol nodded. Wright collapsed back into his chair, a gray, agonized heap. Sweat coated his face in a shiny sheen. He panted, short of breath, clearly still in the grip of intense pain.
Dr. Ching scanned. “The subject will survive three more shocks.”
Neopol stood near Larren. “Now, Captain, where was the Delian woman bound?”
“All right, I lied,” Larren said, licking his lips. “We agreed that it was best if I didn’t know where she was going. She wanted to make sure I couldn’t tell anyone if I was interrogated.”
Neopol nodded and Wright was immediately thrown into a convulsion. When the pain circuit stopped beads of sweat dripped from his white, bloodless face.
Dr. Ching accessed Icom and shook his head. “Excuse me, sir,” he said. “This man will not survive another shock. My original estimation was incorrect, an unfortunate error in judgment. So sorry.”
Neopol’s eyes narrowed and he moved in close to observe his captive.
Larren swallowed as the Admiral examined him attentively. Neopol’s eyes registered his swallow — the man missed nothing. Larren felt himself sweat and became aware of his breathing — short, fast, shallow breaths. He tried to hide his fear, forcing his breathing to slow, but Neopol appeared to be well aware of every physiological expression of anxiety. Larren felt the pulse pounding in his neck as Neopol scrutinized him, and was certain that the Admiral was alert to the elevated rate of his heart. He was having difficulty remaining motionless. Under an exterior that was valiantly attempting to remain calm, Larren was in a desperate state of panic.
Neopol’s face blazed with a fierce, burning joy. He shook his head and made a “tut-tut” sound. “You’re making this senselessly difficult, Captain,” he said. “I will get the truth in any case. I have authorization to use mindtap, you know.”
Larren’s breath caught at that little bombshell, and Neopol paused and smiled as he watched the ramifications of mindtap sank in. What next? Larren wondered. Illegal detainment. Torture, and now mindtap. Everything the Admiral did was in direct contravention to UW government law. Larren knew he would lose all his will once he was injected with mindtap. He would be unable to withhold anything. There was no escape. He could do nothing for Sartha, except perhaps pray and hope the Goddess was merciful.
“I will ask once you once more,” Neopol said. “Where was the Delian woman bound?”
Larren hedged, “If I tell you, you’ll kill my crewmember anyway. What guarantee can you give me that you won’t?”
“Why, you’ll have my word as an officer and a gentleman.”
There was a skeptical silence for Larren’s part, and a patient and interested calm from the Admiral.
Larren was out of choices. Unwilling to jeopardize the life of Wright, he gave in and said, “Very well. She was on her way to Kalar.”
The sensor glowed green, showing that he had told the truth.
Neopol gave a low, satisfied chuckle which turned into a deriding smirk. “Excellent, Captain. You may believe me when I say that when I find her, the woman won’t be maimed or seriously harmed. At least not until I have fully interrogated her first,” Neopol gave a loud and jeering laugh, except there was nothing funny to laugh about. “I wager I could have wasted my time testing you to your death, Captain, without gaining the truth. Yet I knew you wouldn’t risk your colleague. You can’t out-think me. I knew you would give in the moment I mentioned mindtap.” He shook a thick admonishing forefinger at his prisoner. “I warned you that I’ve made an extensive study, Captain, and I’m afraid that you are exactly as I surmised: utterly predictable.” Neopol nodded his head to Dr. Smith.
Mr. Wright began an agonized yell.
“No!” screamed Larren, physically flinging himself against the bindings of the chair.
The scream cut off suddenly, and turned into a deathly, choking rattle. Then there was silence.
“You gave your word!” Larren shouted, but it was too late. Wright was dead. “Why? I don’t understand … why?” Larren echoed, completely stunned. He had accepted that there was little chance he would come out of this alive, but surely his men would. They
had done nothing wrong.
The little world of the interrogation chamber sat in a frozen tableau. Every captive stared in disbelief as the death of one of their crew had changed every rule, indeed the whole playing field, entirely. At first there had been an antiseptic smell in the detention room, and then came the odor of men’s anxious or pain-filled sweat. But now there was a different scent. If one could identify or define it, one would say that the room held the stench of terror.
Admiral Neopol grinned. “You want to know why? Well, I did it just because, my dear Captain Forseth. Because you didn’t want him dead.”
Neopol walked up and down, looking into the faces of remaining crew. He stopped in front of a man who had blood caked on the side of his face and said, “I will allow special treatment to anyone who volunteers to tell me everything I wish to know.” There was silence. “The first man to come forward will be taken to staff quarters.”
There was an instant response, from Drake.
Drake’s words came in an obsequious rush, “I will, sir. You can count on me. I’ll tell you everything. Anything you’d like. Please! Take me!”
Larren registered surprise through the shock of Wright’s death. Drake would never betray his crewmates, and the older man had a lifetime of engineering, and police experience to draw on. Drake was up to something, Larren knew. What was Drake planning? A new fear seized Larren. What if Neopol decided to question him about Drake while under mindtap?
Neopol gave a mocking bow and mocking snort. “Of course. Janson. Have two guards remove this man.”
“Yes, sir.” Janson left and returned with two Marines. They released the straps from Drake, placed him between them and left.
“Does anyone else wish to change their mind?”
The room was silent.
“Fine,” Neopol said, apparently satisfied with just one traitor in the group. “Well, gentlemen.” He noted the time. “I believe we have much to discover about ourselves tonight, so we may as well get started.” He looked at Wright’s still form. “One down and six to go.” Neopol’s lips curled and his eyes were bright with a mad sort of excitement. “I am afraid that it is going to be a long night.” He looked toward Larren. There was an unpleasant smile on his face. “You I will leave for last.”
WOLF DAWN: Science Fiction Thriller/ Romance (Forsaken Worlds) Page 18