No Safe Harbor: The Silver Liner

by Daniel Sullivan

  The door slid open, revealing the massive silhouette of Commander Jax. He entered, flashing a quick smile at Gifford’s and saluted the colonel, only standing at ease when Tracht had returned the greeting. “You wanted to see me, sir,” Jax said neutrally.

  “Please, sit down,” Tracht said, pouring another cup for the commander. “Carol had just come by to request that I give you answers. Works out; this is for both of your ears.”

  Jax sat as directed, but even seated, he looked imposing. “Doctor Keane … Kinsale told me the truth. She showed me the clone soldiers they captured from Lorgen. They all look just like me! What the hell am I? Am I a clone?”

  “Not so far as the law is concerned,” Tracht explained, not expecting this conversation. “And that is, I assume your biggest concern.”

  “No,” Jax hissed. “My biggest concern is that everything I ever knew was a fucking lie! My childhood, my memories were they real? Was any of it real? Or are they just fabrications like you gave to Heather Dalrymple?”

  Tracht sighed. It was time to come clean. “Son, I’m speaking to you as your friend, not as your colonel.” He sipped his coffee to buy time and gather his thoughts. “It was all real, every bit of it. You were genetically designed; grown in a test tube, as it were. You were implanted into the womb of your mother as an embryo. At the time that this was done, we didn’t have the technology to just grow a human and apply the desired traits; it wasn’t until Doctor Keane’s breakthrough that such things were possible and that was less than a decade ago. Your creation predates her work by almost two decades.”

  “So … I am a clone.”

  “No; that implies duplication,” Tracht explained. “You’re unique; a designer baby, if you will. You’re not a copy. Those soldiers that Royce encountered, the ones that look like you? You’re the template, the original. The project could not move to clone you until they had done exhaustive testing. I came on board prior to the Colonial Conflict. Once the technology existed to reproduce fully grown and programmable soldiers, they wanted my input. My relationship with NessCorp made me a natural.” He paused and drank deeply of his coffee. “But, make no mistake, Jax; you’re real. No programming, no copying; you’re the real deal, my friend. You’re a marine. Those clones … Heather Dalrymple, they’re just tools.”

  Jax sighed with resignation. “We’re all just tools, but thank you for telling me the truth. I have some thinking to do.” He stood and saluted, exiting after Tracht returned the gesture.

  “I’ll leave you to your coffee, sir,” Gifford’s said. Then, she added sternly, “This is far from over, sir.”

  Tracht breathed a deep sigh of relief as the door closed behind Gifford’s. That could have gone very, very badly, he thought. He was not happy that one of Royce’s people had given Jax information that the commander would never have been able to obtain with a security clearance much higher than a Starfleet XO could ever hope to have. It illustrated to the colonel just how far this whole thing had spun out of control; and for that, he ultimately had to lay the blame on himself.

  The Phantasm was in place, as Martins had ordered, perfectly placed to intercept the silver liner. Stealth systems were active and no com buoys were in range. Commander Williams wondered why Martins had not wanted to attack when Selene arrived at the wreckage. Now, she understood; with no com buoys to ping, Tracht would be unable to alert High Command. Once Selene arrived, she would be at the mercy of the Phantasm.

  “Once the Selene is in range, move to intercept,” ordered the captain. “I’ll apprise the general. Carry on.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” replied helmsman.

  Commander Williams nodded, saying, “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

  She left the bridge in the care of his first officer and went straight to General Martins’ cabin, highly uncomfortable with the course of action they were undertaking. She rang and the door opened allowing entry. The general sat at a desk, looking at his screen when Williams entered. Not being Navy, General Martins was not technically her superior, but this was the general’s operation and his words carried a lot of weight.

  “Commander Williams,” Martins began. “Give me the sit-rep.”

  “We’ll have them, sir. They’re heading right for us. I’ve ordered an intercept course charted and pursuit at full speed as soon as she’s in range.”

  “Maybe this’ll be easier than we thought,” the general mused. “If she gets by us, can we hope to catch the Selene?”

  “No; she’s faster than anything we’ve got.”

  “How is it that an aging rocker has a ship that can outrun the finest tonnage in the system?”

  “I don’t know, sir,” replied Williams. “That would be a question for the U.P.A. parliament.”

  “I suppose it would be,” the general agreed. “Carry on with the plan.”

  “Sir, I would like to state, for the record, that I oppose this operation. It was bad enough that we did not immediately rescue the Liberty survivors, but at this point, Royce is contracted with the U.S. government and his ship commandeered by their Starfleet. This could be construed as an act of war.”

  “Don’t worry, Commander; this is my operation. If it’s a bad call, I take the blame.”

  “Sir, they have marines aboard, along with a seasoned crew and a rogue A.I.I. operative. If we have to board them, it’ll be costly.”

  “You remember when you picked me up, I had more than just my foot locker,” Martins reminded him.

  “Yes, it’s in the corridor with the cryo-pods.”

  “It’s all the insurance we need,” Martins boasted. “You let me and my people worry about boarding; I’ve got a squad of commandos, plus my secret weapon. All you need to do is fly the ship.”

  “Of course, sir,” Williams replied, leaving the general’s cabin. Williams had been told to prepare for a possible one to two years in space and she was beginning to see why. She only hoped that this would not prove to be a fool’s errand. They were still a long way from Earth and there would be no reinforcements forthcoming.

  Chapter 20

  The Calm Before

  With Colonel Tracht and the U.S. Star Fleet officers safely aboard, and Lorgen dead, the voyage soon settled into routine and boredom. Because of the nature of space travel, it was unlikely that any of their pursuers would be able to intercept them for months, possibly more than a year. Thankfully, all aboard, except Terri were veteran spacefarers and were accustomed to this sort of thing. Of course, the relative calm meant that people had time to fixate on things that they might have been distracted from during more hectic times and none were immune.

  “Good news, Captain,” announced Keyes as the ship careened towards Earth. He needs a shot of good news, she thought. Especially after Heather.

  “Good news is always welcome,” Kendrick replied. “Lay it on me.”

  “I found Tracht’s little present; and I’ve packaged it for re-gifting.”

  “Re-gifting?” asked Mun. “To who?”

  “Anyone who gives us trouble,” Amanda said slyly. “I guarantee that Martins is in pursuit after the spanking we gave him and I haven’t counted Lorgen out yet either.”

  Mun laughed. “You don’t really think Lorgen’s still alive, do you?”

  “It’s unlikely,” Keyes agreed. “I swept for pods and only found the two we rescued … but I’m proof that stranger things can happen. I was on Lorgen’s original ship when it blew like the Liberty did. I survived the Enigma’s self-destruct and you rescued me, remember?”

  “Hadn’t thought of that, but I suppose you’re right,” Mun conceded.

  “So if the Phantasm comes after us, you can disable it,” Kendrick noted. “Nice work, Keyes.”

  “Disable it,” Keyes agreed. Then she smiled wickedly. “Or I could copy it and send it to multiple ships, were we ever up against more than one. Then I could send control of one ship to you and we could play with them like they’re a video game.”

  “Now you have me hoping we’ll run into t
hem,” Kendrick said with a laugh. “That sounds like fun!”

  Amanda grinned. “I aim to please.”

  Sergeant Gardner poured his coffee and took his seat in the Pod Beta lounge, joining the younger Ms. Carlisle and Ms. Henderson. “So... what do you make of all this?” asked Sergeant without preamble.

  “We’re damn lucky,” replied a freshly released, though still incapacitated Ms. Carlisle as she lazed on the sectional, her leg propped up and playing a video game. “And to be rescued by a ship like this? It’s like we died and went to Heaven! And Captain Royce? He’s seriously hot.”

  “Lucky …” mused Ms. Darcy Henderson. “Lucky doesn’t even begin to describe it. I was on the bridge; I heard what the Colonel said to Captain Royce and this could have gone down a lot differently.”

  “And what did he say, Lieutenant?” Gardner scowled, a touch of displeasure in his voice. “Captain Gifford’s and Commander Jax are already pissed off with Tracht over something to do with all this.”

  “Seriously? I’d pay to see Jax flatten him,” Carlisle interjected. “Jax is hot too, but I think he’s got a thing for Captain Man-jaw.”

  “Real funny,” Gardner said sarcastically. “Now, what did the colonel say on the bridge?”

  Henderson sighed. “We’d taken down the Selene’s power and had her dead in the water. Apparently, the Colonel set that in motion months ago, so it’s not something we could just do off the cuff and it’s unlikely that Royce would fall victim to it again. The Colonel had him over a barrel and used Royce’s crew as leverage to get him to agree to work with the U.S. Starfleet and the U.S.S.M.C. They met in a shuttle and finalized it.” A mirthless smile crossed her face. “After the Colonel got back, Lorgen attacked and I didn’t think we’d ever see Royce again. Thought for sure he’d kill us when he showed up and I was shocked when he ordered that big Korean to give us back our side arms.”

  “So we fucked him and he’s been kind enough not to return the favor; or at least to sweet-talk us and use lube before he does,” said Gardner. “That sum it up?”

  “Pretty much,” said Darcy ruefully. “I’ve seen the files on his crew. That priest is a former mob enforcer and before that, he was a mercenary. Had a bigtime rep. That Cyrus Freeman is considered to be as intelligent as the top minds in the tech sector; pushing a two hundred IQ. And like the priest, he’s a serious threat. Keyes was one of the Alliance’s top operatives until she hooked up with Royce; not sure what the story on that is. And Royce himself has taken down some major bad asses. Tracht said he has video of him pounding two Zduhać into Jell-O all by his lonesome.”

  “What’s your point?” asked Carlisle petulantly.

  “The point is,” growled Gardner, “they only gave us back our weapons cause they ain’t afraid of us, little girl. An’ git yer head outta yer butt pucker; these guys have every reason to space our worthless hides, an’ for some odd reason they ain’t done that … yet.” He shook his head and looked at the two officers as though he were looking at a pair of raw recruits on the first day of basic. “I don’t know what you morons up the chain were thinkin’, but I know men like Royce don’t like to be fucked with. I say we make nice and enjoy the accommodations till this ride is over. Then we part ways and let him and the Colonel hash out whatever it is they’ve got going on. If he’s workin’ with the Colonel, he’s one of us whether he likes it or not, so don’t fuck it up, either of you.”

  Carlisle waved off Gardner with exasperation and went back to her game while Darcy brooded. Gardner was right; Tracht really had crossed the line, especially with the Selene’s engineer and only Royce’s sense of honor was keeping them alive. So far as High Command knew, they were all dead and Royce could space them anytime he felt like it; or depressurize the pod with them in it. Tracht seemed to have a plan though and a far reaching one at that. Whatever it was he wanted with Royce, he had spent months in preparation, something that would only be done for a matter of great importance. She only hoped that Tracht’s plan would end well for them.

  Heather sat in her cabin reading the reports she had requested from Lena. The crew had been cordial to her, but they all had stayed away from her, except the captain and Mun, though she had blown the gunner off every time he tried to strike up conversation with her. As an agent, she had no expectations of friendship, but in her prior capacity, she had developed some connections with the crew. With everyone doing their jobs, Heather was surprised to find herself lonely. She took to reading the reports to get up to speed on where things were for when she came back, but she hated reading reports. Finally, she finished the last of the tedious things and flounced back on her bed in frustration.

  Her bed. With the cover personality deleted and her actual self now in control, the bed was actually hers. And it was a very comfortable bed. The cover personality had purchased bedding during a shopping trip on Mars to make it like the bed ‘she’ had slept in at home, a bed and a home that had never existed. The Dalrymple personality had chosen the red, blue, yellow and green colors because they matched the Dalrymple Clan tartan. But she was not really a Dalrymple after all.

  Suddenly, Kendrick’s words had impact. With her mission successful, she was just along for the ride like everyone else. Sure, she was the ship’s engineer, but that post came with a lot of down time and the colonel had yet to pay her a visit or summon her, which left her effectively between missions and with a lot of time to actually think about her life.

  She felt a slight pang of remorse over her very aggressive flirt with the captain, then she smiled. No, that was too fun; I don’t regret it in the least and I think I’ll do it again. Doctor Keane was another matter. There had been a number of times when she had posed as her cover personality and had interacted with Keane directly. She had to admit that she admired the doctor, even though the older woman was technically a criminal and a national security risk. She had carefully cultivated the friendship with the older woman as Heather Dalrymple, but now, that friendship would have to be rebuilt for the sake of the mission. She was wondering why the colonel had told Royce that the old personality was gone, something that compromised her usefulness as an agent, when her door chime sounded.

  “Come in,” she said, not bothering to check who it was.

  “Heather?” Mun entered hesitantly, knocking on the now open door as he did. “Are you free?”

  Mun. She needed to deal with him and now was as good a time as any. “I can talk if that’s what you’re asking.”

  He relaxed slightly and stepped further into her cabin. “Do you … are you … I’m sorry; I don’t know where to begin. We had … something. Now, though …”

  “Mun, you had something with a temporary A.I. program that has since self-deleted.” She was blunt, but tried to make her delivery as painless as possible; she would have to work with these people for the foreseeable future, including Mun. “Whatever she had with you, she’s gone. I’m sorry.” She smiled consolingly and somewhat sheepishly, though for her, it was really just professional courtesy.

  “So … there’s nothing between us then?”

  “Mister Mun, you know why I’m here, what I am. I like you well enough; you’re a friendly guy, but no, you’re not my type.”

  Mun slumped his shoulders and for a moment, she thought he was going to cry. Instead, he straightened up and smiled back. “Oh well. I guess I’ll get back to my post. Sorry to bother you.”

  He then left without another word. She had expected him to make more of an impassioned plea to be the old Heather and was surprised when he did not. Surprised and also a little disappointed. She had no interest in Mun, but it seemed that the entire crew had put up walls and had written her off … all except the captain.

  Cyrus set foot in the security chief’s office for the first time. He looked around at the stark room, occupied by only a desk with a terminal, a chair for him and several chairs along the wall for guests. He hated it, but he knew that would change; he would personalize it beyond recognition. On the way into h
is office, he had walked through the Security department. The usual array of monitors sat dormant with four empty chairs in front of them.

  “So this is my department,” he declared.

  “Yup. If you want it, that is,” replied Kendrick. “I’ll send Kang your way in a little while. I’d go over security protocols with you, but I’ve never worked security and never needed ‘em. There’s a manual, so use it as a guideline if you need it.”

  “I won’t,” Cyrus assured as he turned on the monitor array, “but I will look at it. We can meet in a few days to discuss things specific to your ship, but right now, I think we’ve got a good bead on the situation.”

  The monitors tuned right into the rooms of Pod Beta and their guests appeared to be behaving themselves. Cyrus determined that he would watch them and learn their patterns. This would be time consuming and boring, but it was necessary. He went into the mode of a predator studying its prey. Of course, watching them from the monitors was only part of his strategy.

  “I can see everything,” he observed. “I understand that Mun did a stint as security at the Mall of America. He’s a bit … raw, for real security work, but he’s got the foundations. If nothing else, he’s a challenging chess player; better than I, truth be told and he’s easy to get along with. If you ever start using this ship as a commercial liner, he would be a good face for the passengers to see.”

  “Yeah, and he’s had a bit of a trial by fire since first coming on,” noted Kendrick. “Anyway, thank you for doing this, Cyrus. I really appreciate it.”

  “You hired me,” the big man reminded him. “I cannot simply laze for months on end and expect to be paid, even if it is next to nothing.”

  “All the same, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “As am I,” Cyrus agreed. “This is actually … enjoyable. I have no idea what I’ll do once we return to Earth, but right now, this is home.”