by Neal Jones
White priest to red square seven.
Jolan sat back and closed his eyes, folding his hands in his lap. The vivid details of his "dream" returned to him in full force, and he gasped as he opened his eyes and leaned forward. His hands nearly knocked over the King's pieces as he reached for his brandy. After a long sip, he sat back once more and breathed deep. He looked through the window at the peaceful cityscape and he wondered if, just maybe, he had received some kind of message from the Gods.
It was ludicrous, really, to consider such a notion. The Gods of Jha'Dar had not spoken to Their children in this manner for over two thousand years. The last prophet, Osalu Qeth, had died in his sleep, in these very plains, and his remains were currently resting with those of the other prophets in the crypts beneath the Holy Temple. No, it was all because of stress. These last days leading up to zero hour were taking their toll on Jolan, on everyone involved in the Project. It was inevitable that the long hours and the rapidly accumulating daily workload would manifest itself sooner or later. It was a bad dream, nothing more.
Jolan stood and downed the last of his brandy, then set the tumbler next to the empty wine glasses. He paused for a moment to look at the King's board, deciding whether or not to make one more move. Playing against oneself wasn't very entertaining or profitable, but Jolan found an odd comfort in it. This time, he wanted the red to win, and he moved another red soldier to white square seven. From there, the soldier was able to capture the white priest at red square seven. The senator carefully lifted the board and returned it to the shelf next to the window. Aleist would know not to disturb it during her cleaning tomorrow.
Jolan closed the drapes and shut off the light, then ascended the stairs to his master suit. Annaias was still awake, propped up on her pillows with a book-reader in her hands. She put it aside as her husband entered and removed his robe. She watched him crawl back into bed, and he leaned towards her to give her a kiss.
"I'm fine, love," he murmured. "It was just a bad dream. A glass of your brandy set me right."
He mustered a smile before he turned onto his side and pulled the covers up around himself. Annaias relaxed somewhat, satisfied for now, and she turned off the lamp. But it was still another hour before Jolan fell back into sleep.
Chapter 16
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( 1 )
"You were right, sir. One of the unidentified elements in the makeup of the raider's hull was garidium." Garrett handed a compad to Gabriel. "It was also one of the central components in the stardrive assembly. It actually answered a lot of our questions about how the raider's able to put out a level twelve force rating."
Gabriel nodded, frowning as he perused the report. One more puzzle piece falling into place. "Thank you, commander. Have you begun disassembling the ship?"
"We started yesterday."
"Put it back together. Captain McKenna sent a communiqué this morning. She needs it for her mission, and she'll explain more when she arrives."
Now it was Garrett's turn to frown. "Yes, sir."
"Dismissed."
The chief engineer walked out of the office, and Gabriel tossed the pad onto his desk. He stared into space, rubbing his chin as he began sifting through the puzzle pieces once more. The Jha'Drok mining large amounts of garidium. The Haal'Chai building raiders with garidium as a central component. A Jha'Drok spy on Exxar-One. Suicide bombing and a double murder. And, of course, there was Chancellor Kroth's cryptic comments to Saveck about the Quorum and the Ministry of Defense preparing for a conflict with an unknown enemy. Gabriel smiled to himself as he began to see the larger picture. It wasn't hard to guess who that "unknown enemy" was anymore.
Kroth and the Quorum of Seventy had arrived at the same conclusion that the commodore was now seeing. The Jha'Drok, after a hundred and thirty years of silence, were now sticking their dirty fingers into the affairs of the empires around them. It was a disturbing revelation, but it made perfect sense. Who better to use as a diversion than the Haal'Chai? With Chrisarii/Federation diplomatic relations so tenuous and the treaty between them only ten years old, it was an easy matter to feed the flames of a fire which had already been burning in the Alliance territories since the signing of the treaty.
Gabriel thought of Navarr and Sikandra. Had they come to the same conclusion as well? Were they even still alive? He shook his head, dispelling that question immediately. There was enough to worry about without adding one more unknown variable to the equation. It was better to assume that no news was good news. For now, there was enough evidence accumulated to take to Admiral Hazen. After that, it was time to question the prisoner, whether he was ready or not. It had been three days since the bombing, but Rosenberg hadn't yet sent any word to Gabriel about whether the spy was recuperated enough to be interrogated. The commodore activated his holo-comm and typed in Hazen's comm-code. After he was finished delivering his report, he would have a private session with the prisoner.
( 2 )
Krael Zar looked up as Gabriel entered the security office. "Doctor Rosenberg isn't happy about this. He doesn't think the prisoner's ready. Have you seen his medical report?"
"I have, and I don't care. It's just a few questions. We won't be long. Which room?"
"Solitary block C. I thought it would be better if we had a whole block to ourselves. I've disabled the vidcams in there."
Gabriel smiled as he strode to the door on the left. "You think that we're going to have to do more than just ask questions?"
"I don't know, sir. Just being prepared for anything."
"I assume that the doctor removed all suicide devices?"
"Yes. He found two - one in the left molar and another underneath the skin of Doe's inside elbow."
"Good." Gabriel stopped short as he walked into the cell block. Rosenberg was standing next to the prisoner, who was handcuffed to a metal chair in the center of the block. Beside the doctor was a portable grav table with a bio-monitor and other miscellaneous medical gadgetry on it.
"Oh yeah," Zar added. "I forgot to tell you that the doctor insisted he be present for this."
"I'm just here to monitor his vitals, and to make sure that you don't damage his recovery."
"You said it would be two days, three at most," Gabriel replied. "That he would have a full recovery."
"There were some complications with our removal of the bioprobes. I knew that Jha'Drok medical science was different than ours, but I ran into some trouble halfway through the process. I don't know what they use in their nanotechnology, but Mister Doe developed a serious case of blood poisoning, and I had to stop the eradication process completely to start treatment. On top of all that, he suffered some internal injuries during the bombing which complicated both the bioprobe eradication process, as well as the blood poisoning treatment. I managed to cure two out of three. He still has a few bioprobes in his system, but he's conscious enough to answer some questions."
As the doctor spoke, Gabriel slowly circled the prisoner. The brown, vein-like markings which ran along the side of every Jha'Drok face and neck were now visible, thanks to the eradication treatment. John looked at the commodore with a neutral expression, his eyes cold and alert. Gabriel suspected that the prisoner was capable of enduring more than just a few questions, and he was pleased to see that the chair was fastened to the floor, and that the man's ankles were also chained the chair legs. John wasn't going anywhere, and Zar had read the commodore's mind. Both knew that it was going to take more than talking to get this guy to give up anything more than a "Fuck you!" statement.
A link to the bio-monitor was fastened to Doe's left temple, its tiny green light blinking a steady rhythm as the device relayed necessary information to the scanner in Rosenberg's hand. Gabriel turned to the doctor. "You're welcome to stay, but I'm sure you can monitor the patient from outside those doors." He inclined his head in the direction of the double entrance to the cell block.
Rosenberg held Gabriel's gaze, unblinking, as he replied. "Commodore,
I trust that you would abide by the articles of war as established in Federation charter sixty-two. This man is a prisoner of war."
"Doctor, this man is a spy and I need answers. I am prepared to do whatever is necessary to get those answers. If you have an objection you may note it now. After that, don't get in my way. Am I clear?"
Rosenberg refused to back down, but instead glanced at his scanner and inputted a couple commands. Then he looked back and forth between the prisoner and the commodore and crossed his hands in front of his waist, waiting. Gabriel nodded, satisfied, and returned his attention to John Doe. There was a translator in his left ear, an old style device which hadn't been used for almost a century, since the development of the linguistic bioprobes. But the doctor had thought it prudent not to inject John Doe with anything except medication at this point, especially more bioprobes. Gabriel stood in front of John, looking at the spy with open contempt.
"What's your name?"
John only stared back with that same cold look in his eyes, his mouth drawn into a firm line.
"What's your name?" Gabriel repeated. "Who sent you? Are you an operative of the Talik'Jhor?" The Talik'Jhor was the Jha'Drok equivalent of Federation Central Intelligence, and it was a safe bet that they were the ones behind this operation.
But the prisoner still refused to answer.
Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back and forth on his heels as he smiled. "You think that this is going to get violent, don't you? You think that because of my little warning to the doctor that I'm prepared to get as violent as necessary with you in order to get what I want. And if you had been discovered a couple weeks ago, or even four days ago, I probably would be pummeling the shit out of you right now." The captain's smile widened as he leaned forward to pat the prisoner affectionately on the back. "Don't worry, my friend, I'm not the violent type. You and I both know it would just be a waste of our time. As a field operative for the Talik'Jhor you're prepared for this. You've probably been through a dozen simulations exactly like this, where you learned how to channel physical pain. Or there's probably something in those bioprobes that helps dull the pain." Gabriel straightened and glanced at Zar and Rosenberg. "I've got a much better idea. Krael, come with me. Doctor, let me know if his status changes."
Before he started for the door, Gabriel snuck a look at John's expression from the corner of his eye. There was more than cold neutrality in the man's eyes. There was fear as well. He hadn't expected this, and the commodore allowed himself a silent gloat of triumph as he led Zar out of the cell block. Once they were in the security office, Gabriel turned to his security chief.
"How many registered telepaths are on the station?"
"Just a second." The DrayH'M walked to his desk and activated his terminal. It was only a few moments before the search results appeared on his screen. "Two. A man named Brandryn and a woman named Dreatta Kkev. Kkev is independent, but Brandryn is employed by the Cheryna Corporation."
"What company is that?"
"A brokerage firm. They just opened a local office here last week. I doubt that Brandryn would be willing to do what you're asking."
Gabriel nodded. "Find Kkev." He checked the time display on his commlink. "The Dauntless will be docking in a few minutes, and I have a briefing with McKenna. I'll be back here in an hour to talk to Kkev."
"Commodore, wait. What you're suggesting is not only illegal under charter sixty-two, but the fact that Kkev is a civilian makes it even worse. There's only four of us that know about the prisoner in that cell block. You bring a civilian into this, and we run the risk that she can't be trusted. Not only that, what if something happens to her? If she's physically harmed because of a mindscan, then we're responsible, and I seriously doubt I could keep something like that from the Madison Foundation. Besides all that, Miss Kkev isn't going to do something like this for free."
"Don't you have a fund set aside for use in drug stings? I'm sure that she wouldn't ask too high a price. And as for the security risk and the risk of physical harm, I'll make those clear to her in our meeting. If she's unwilling to go forward, I won't pressure her. And as for the legality of all this, well, after everything that we've had to deal with in the last few weeks, I don't really a give a shit about the regs anymore. We need answers, and we need them now. It's that simple."
( 3 )
McKenna shut off the holo display and leaned back as she faced Gabriel. She'd reached the end of her report, and she waited patiently for his response. Seated across from her was Lieutenant Corwin, and it was to her that Gabriel directed his first question.
"Are you confident enough to fly the raider under those conditions? You've only had one test flight."
"Actually, sir, I've had two. The second was a few days ago." She paused, look sheepish, then added, "I couldn't resist. And, to answer your question, do we have a choice? I'm the only one who's flown that thing."
Gabriel turned to McKenna. "She's got a point."
"There's one more thing. I'd like to take Mister Garrett with me, or, at the very least, a couple members of his staff who have been working on the raider from the beginning. Just in case we run into trouble. I don't want any lives lost because of a mistaken technical readout in the middle of the flight."
"Fair enough. I'll give you as many people from his staff as you think you need, but I want to keep my chief engineer." Gabriel pushed back his chair and stood. "Leave whenever you're ready. Good luck."
"Thank you, commodore."
Gabriel walked out of the wardroom, ignoring his growling stomach as he headed for the PTL. There wasn't time for lunch. He would grab something from a deli on the promenade after his meeting with Kkev. Zar was right. She probably wouldn't do it, no matter the reward they offered, but the only other choice right now was to hand the prisoner over to FCI. By the time they got him to one of their bases and finished their interrogation, it might be too late. Gabriel couldn't say why, but he felt like he was getting close to the bottom of this whole mess, and one question kept repeating itself in the back of his mind.
Why the hell were the Jha'Drok meddling in the affairs of their neighboring empires? Why now?
There was only one possible answer, and it put a bitter taste in the back of the commodore's throat. In a boxing match, you distract your opponent by focusing his attention on your left hand, while your right hand comes up from his blind spot to deliver the knockout blow. It was almost too elementary, too obvious, and yet it was a tactic that succeeded more often than it should. As he inputted his destination into the lift's com panel, Gabriel reluctantly admitted to himself that FCI could do a hell of a lot better than he and Zar at interrogating the prisoner. Their operatives were trained in this sort of thing, and the commodore was stepping way out of bounds by resorting to a mindscan. But the simple truth of the matter was that after everything that had happened in the last month aboard his station, Gabriel wanted – needed desperately, in fact – a victory; no matter how small or ultimately worthless it might became later on. If he could just get a few answers now, a few more pieces to this puzzle, it would give him and his crew enough incentive to keep going. It would place a mark on their scorecard for once, instead of always having to react to the latest incident.
When the commodore stepped into the security office, he saw a young human woman sitting in one of the chairs in front of Zar's desk. Both she and the security chief glanced up from their conversation, and the woman stood to greet Gabriel.
"Commodore. I'm Dreatta Kkev. Pleased to meet you."
Gabriel shook her hand. "Likewise." He walked around the desk to observe the woman from a distance.
"It's all right. I'm only an L3. I can't read your thoughts. Not without a direct, physical link to your mind. Krael Zar has already filled me in on the details of your request, and I am more than happy to assist you. Normally, my fee would be two hundred credits. But for something like this, I think three hundred is reasonable."
Gabriel glanced at Zar and the DrayH'M
nodded. "It won't be a problem to transfer the funds."
"Good." The commodore turned to Kkev. "Have you been shown the confidentiality agreement and the medical waiver? You understand the seriousness of this situation and of what we're asking you to do?"
She held up a compad. "I've already signed both. I'm pleased to do my part in the service of my empire."
"Very well." Gabriel gave an inaudible sigh of relief as he motioned to the door at his left. "Let's get on with it then."
Doctor Rosenberg looked up from his scanner as the trio entered the cell block. John Doe was still in his chair, still wearing that same cold look on his face, but there was a flicker in his eyes as he looked at the newcomer. Kkev returned his scrutiny with equal force while she waited for Gabriel's instruction.
"What's going on?" Rosenberg demanded. "Who's she?"
"Doctor, you're dismissed. Zar can monitor the prisoner's vitals. Please remain in the corridor in case we need you."
The doctor's expression hardened, but he gave no further protest as he walked out of the block. Gabriel turned to the telepath. "You can begin whenever you're ready."
Dreatta nodded and stepped forward. She reached out with her left hand and placed it gently, but firmly, against John's right temple. With her other hand she grasped his chin and lifted his gaze to hers. Her eyes locked with his and her mouth tightened, her facial muscles taut, as she opened her mind and reached out to grasp John's. Her eyes widened for a moment, and she gave a little gasp, surprised by the force of his resistance. But he had spent the last two days under intensive care, more or less unconscious, and no matter how willing the spirit might be, if the flesh was weak the fight wouldn't last long. In just a matter of seconds – though it felt like minutes to Kkev – she was inside the Jha'Drok's mind.