“Just another wonderful morning on the Battlecruiser Alamo,” Cooper replied, beginning his descent down the ladder. Once he reached the bottom, he said, “Shuttle Three, do you still read me?”
“I read you. Go ahead.”
“We have privacy. I’m willing to negotiate.”
“I’ve given you my terms.”
“And I’ve told you that they are unacceptable. I want my wife released, and I want the information you have. As far as I’m concerned, once I have those, you can go free. None of this is necessary.”
“There’s a ship scheduled to leave in an hour. I want to be on board.”
“You don’t seriously expect to take an entire crew hostage? Be reasonable.”
She paused, then said, “You’re stalling, Ensign. Tell you what. I’ll allow the crew to evacuate on escape pods before we enter hendecaspace, and your wife can join them. In addition, I will give you the names of our other operatives on Alamo, and on Yeager Station.”
“Give me a minute to discuss this with my commanding officer.”
“No more than that. Shuttle Three out.”
Cooper raced down the cramped corridor, head down low, stepping over the crates and containers that were still scattered about. At least the offer was barely plausible, and he switched channels on his communicator.
“Cooper to Orlova.”
“Orlova here. Go ahead.”
“I need you to order the Angus McBride to jettison her escape pods in one minute, and to relay that feed to Shuttle Three.”
“Cooper, I’m not giving her a transport.”
“Of course not, but I want her to think we are.”
There was a pause for a second, and she replied, “I’ll see that it is done. Orlova out.”
He reached the access hatch, then looked around for the supply locker. A respirator and a length of cable. When the airlocks blew, there would be a hell of a pressure reduction, and if he didn’t restrain himself, the force would throw him down the corridor. Of course, that also meant that there was no way he would be able to get out of the way if something went wrong.
“Cooper to Shuttle Three,” he said as he restrained himself. “We agree with one modification.”
“And that is?”
“We’re not giving you more hostages. The crew of the Angus McBride are going to bail out first. The ship is already prepared for a hendecaspace jump, and all you have to do is set in the course and fly her to the egress point.”
“Cooper, don’t do it,” Bradley yelled. “You can’t trust her.”
“Right now I haven’t got much choice,” Cooper replied. “Well, Scott, do you agree?”
“It seems reasonable enough. I agree. I have an external sensor feed, and I’m looking at the freighter now.” A few seconds later, with an air of surprise, she said, “You actually did it.”
“I’m keeping my end of the bargain. We’ll fly you over there under our control, and my wife can stay on board for the trip back.”
“Wait a minute, that wasn’t in the agreement.”
Cooper paused, wondering if he was pushing it too far. On the other hand, he couldn’t appear to wield too much, or she’d start to think that it was too easy to be believed.
“You can secure the docking clamps and release them once you’ve checked the systems on the McBride. We’ll be monitoring the inside of the shuttle all the way to make sure that you don’t harm my wife.”
“Cooper, I’m not…,” Bradley began, before Scott interrupted her.
“Evidently he’s letting emotion override his good sense. From the report I’ve read on him, that doesn’t seem out of character. Let’s get this over with. Engage the elevator airlock.”
Taking a deep breath, Cooper tapped a control, and said, “Kowalski, engage elevator airlock. Once the upper doors are sealed, blow the doors and open the inspection hatch. Give me a two-second warning. I’m braced and ready.”
“Are you sure about this, sir?”
“Do it.”
Leveling his pistol to point at the door, he braced himself, and waited. A loud, angry whine echoed from above as the elevator airlock began to engage, the shuttle being lowered down into the deck, then another, deeper noise as the upper doors started to close. The whole sequence should take less than a minute, but it seemed to be an eternity.
“Now!” Kowalski yelled, and the world seemed to tear asunder as the hatch opened, and a brief, blinding flash that the respirator goggles struggled to compensate for as the twin airlock doors blew out, pieces of shrapnel raining down around him as the escaping air hurled him around, tossing him back and forth on the cables. Scott was sitting in the pilot’s couch, her gun in her hand, and she let off a shot to the rear of the cabin, smashing against the wall.
Cooper, an instant too slow, fired two shots in rapid succession, the first catching her in the shoulder, the second in her leg, a loud crack as the latter hit something in a pocket. Scott dropped her weapon in pain, the agony forcing a scream, and she slumped down onto the deck. Unwrapping his restraints, he bounded in, securing her to the deck, before looking back at Bradley at the rear of the room, unconscious.
Slamming a control, he yelled, “Kowalski, get this shuttle to the deck now, and I need a medical team on the double!”
“Knew I shouldn’t have trusted you,” Scott mumbled, blood trickling from the hole in her shoulder.
The shuttle rose to the deck, surrounded by troopers with guns raised, a medical team racing from the airlock with a stretcher. Hunt looked in through the opening, then gestured for the medics to enter.
“Bradley first, Garland” Cooper ordered. “Our hijacker here can wait a moment.”
The paramedic nodded, heading back to the rear of the cabin, kneeling down beside her unconscious form. One of the other medics leaned over Scott, bandages in hand, and at a curt nod from Cooper, took her out onto the deck, a dozen rifles pointed at her.
“What a mess,” Kowalski said, shaking his head. “It’s going to take hours to clean that up, and days to put that shuttle back into service.”
“Get her to clean it up,” Cooper said. “Garland, what’s the story?”
“Decompression shock,” he replied. “Vitals seem fine, I don’t see any sign of permanent damage.” Pulling out a respirator, he placed it on her head, activating it with the flick of a switch. “We’ll get her to sickbay for a full medical, though.”
“Thanks.”
He stepped back onto the deck, looking down at Scott, a defiant look on her face. She looked around, as though about to say something, then jerked forward, a scream loud enough to echo from the ceiling, and defiance was replaced by fear.
“Where am I?” she asked, tears of pain streaming down her cheeks. “What’s going on?”
Cooper stepped over to her, and said, “You just held my wife hostage and threatened the safety of this ship. I don’t know what’s going on, but rest assured, I will.” Turning back to Garland, he said, “Get them both to sickbay on the double. And I want a fire team posted to keep an eye on this one.”
Desperately, she said, “What’s happening? You shot me?”
“Be grateful I shot to wound.”
Chapter 5
“So, who is he, Doctor?” Orlova asked, looking down at the corpse lying on the table. Duquesne reached over to a wall terminal, tapping a series of instructions, and a picture of the man wearing Triplanetary uniform appeared, along with a crawl of text.
“Lieutenant William Strong, age twenty-nine. AWOL for the past seven months, since the attempted coup.”
Nelyubov looked at the records, and added, “Served on Commodore Tramiel’s staff for almost a year. Obviously a loyalist. Maggie, I’ve gone through the records. There are more than a hundred people listed as AWOL from around then.”
“What?”
“It’s bee
n buried. Either they’ve got friends in high places back home…”
“Or someone decided to just let them go, rather than risk bringing everything back to the surface again,” Orlova concluded. “Any indication where he has been for the last seven months?”
“I’m no clairvoyant,” Duquesne asked, frowning. “He’s been in a low-gravity environment for at least most of that time, but aside from that, I can’t tell you anything.”
“Low gravity,” Nelyubov mused. “Meaning a planetary surface rather than a ship.”
“Probably.”
“He was last stationed on Titan,” he continued. “Working in Special Projects, which could mean anything. I looked a little deeper, as far as my security clearance would take me, and it looks like the operation was closed down two weeks after he disappeared. Quite a lot AWOL. Of course, there’s nothing useful in the file regarding what they were actually doing.”
“We’ve got our prisoner for that,” Orlova said, walking over to the door, looking through the window at the ward on the far side. “What about her?”
“Her last name actually is Scott, strangely enough. Sub-Lieutenant Catherine Scott, late of the Gilgamesh. AWOL a week after the coup, not seen since.”
“Physical examination?”
“Same as the other one,” Duquesne said. “And she doesn’t remember anything.”
“What?” Nelyubov asked. “She’s lying.”
Shaking her head, Duquesne replied, “Not according to my professional judgment. Someone has been playing games with that young lady's brain. And, incidentally, violating almost half a dozen statues, so you can add that to the list. You can talk to her yourself, but I’ve already run a detailed neural scan. The last six months of her life are gone.”
“How is that possible?”
With a deep sigh, the doctor said, “In theory, memory can be erased with the destruction of neurons. More than theory. During the War, researchers on both sides did a lot of work on it, and there were reports of some success. It isn’t selective, though, not discriminative, and there is a high risk of brain damage.” She reached into a pocket, and threw a piece of scrap metal on the table. “I found that implanted in the back of her neck. A sequence of injections was administered into her, just after Cooper shot her.”
“Can you…”
“Even if I could, I wouldn’t. Any research in this field is a violation of medical ethics, and I seem to vaguely remember swearing an oath to do no harm.”
“I was wondering if it could be reversed,” Orlova said.
Shaking her head, Duquesne replied, “Not a chance. Those memories are gone, forever, and the person who committed those crimes has gone with them. She wants to talk to you, by the way.”
“Me?”
A faint smile crossing her face, she said, “Apparently you are something of a hero to her.”
“Damn, Doc, you fight dirty.”
“It usually works.”
Nelyubov looked out at Scott, still lying on the table, and said, “I don’t think Field Regulations cover this situation. She’s facing charges of treason, kidnapping, conspiracy, attempted murder…”
“And the woman who committed all of those crimes has killed herself, effectively,” Duquesne said. “Suicide of personality. I think we’re going to need to rewrite the regulations.” Looking across at Orlova, she said, “If you want to talk to her, I’ve cleared the ward.”
“Bradley?”
“Is fine, and sleeping in her cabin. Best that she wakes up in her own time. Cooper’s with her, and I’ve got her under remote observation.” She shrugged, and said, “She’ll be cleared for duty in the morning.”
“Then let’s hear what she has to say,” Orlova said, walking out of the morgue onto the ward, Nelyubov and Duquesne following her. Scott looked up as she entered, struggling to salute, her hand festooned with cables, but Orlova gestured for her to relax, taking a seat by her bedside.
“Well, Sub-Lieutenant, you’ve got yourself into quite a situation. Do you know what happened?”
“Doctor Duquesne filled me in on the details, ma’am. I’m willing to face charges for what I did.” Shaking her head, she said, “Though I don’t understand any of it.”
“What is the last thing you do remember?”
“I had a message from Commodore Tramiel, top secret. He told me that I had been selected for a secret mission, and should make my way by civilian transport to Triton Base. Details to follow.” Closing her eyes, she said, “Then everything is a blank until I woke up on your hangar deck. I’m glad Sub-Lieutenant Bradley is alright.” With a sigh, she added, “I just don’t understand why I would have wanted to kill her. None of this makes any sense.”
“If it helps, I don’t think you did,” Duquesne said. “Didn’t you win some sort of award for marksmanship?”
“I got a Bronze in the Interplanetary Olympics, my first year of the Academy,” she said.
“You really think you’d miss a stationary target at thirty feet, Sub-Lieutenant? You were shooting to throw off Cooper, not kill Bradley.”
“What’s your opinion of the government?” Nelyubov asked with a frown.
“Be honest, Sub-Lieutenant,” Orlova added.
Taking a deep breath, Scott said, “I think that the government needs to do more to protect its citizens, and that we need a firmer line against the Cabal. I believe that war is inevitable, and that all we are doing with the peace treaty is stalling for time, time which they will probably use more effectively than we will.” Looking across at Orlova, she said, “I’m sorry, ma’am, that’s just the way I feel about the situation.”
“And you made those views public?”
Nodding, she said, “Yes, ma’am.”
“She’s telling the truth,” Duquesne said.
“And you don’t remember anything else?”
“No, ma’am.” Looking down at the bed, she said, “Could you please pass on to Sub-Lieutenant Bradley that I apologize for what I did. I know that doesn’t mean much.” Shaking her head again, she said, “I just don’t understand.”
“How long will she be on the sick list, Doctor?” Orlova asked.
“Two, three days.”
“Just rest, for now, Sub-Lieutenant,” Orlova said, rising to her feet. “Doctor, I want Strong’s body transferred to the McBride, as well as all of your reports on what happened to her.”
“For the record, Strong had another of those devices implanted in his neck, and it self-destructed when he died,” she said. “Whoever did this was determined to make sure that no-one could tell any tales.”
Orlova’s communicator chirped, and she said, “Go ahead.”
“Quinn here. I’ve finished my analysis of the datapad we found on the corpse. Scott’s was shattered, I’m afraid, and the memory had been wiped automatically. Data irretrievable.”
“And?”
“Harper made some serious modifications to it. Lots of intrusion software, but all of it subtly wrong. Enough that we’d spot it in a second if it was ever used. And even if they did manage to extract anything, there was a randomizer built in.”
“Useless, then.”
“Deliberately so. I found out how they got on board, and that was Harper again. This time she did a good job, though. I guess she wanted to make sure that her messengers got on board.”
“Thanks, Jack, good work. Send over all of your data to the McBride. I’m going to send a full report back to Captain Marshall on Ragnarok.”
“Will do.”
“Jack, is Alamo ready for space?”
There was a long pause, and he replied, “All of our repairs are completed.”
“But?”
“We’ve got quite a few untested new systems. We really need a shakedown cruise to test them out. I’ve run simulations, but that isn’t any substitute for the real thing
.”
“What does your gut tell you?”
“We’re ready.”
“I’ll settle for that. Orlova out.” Turning to Duquesne, she said, “Keep an eye on our patient, Doctor.”
“That’s what I’m here for. Just a glorified babysitter.”
With a smile, Orlova walked out into the corridor, Nelyubov following her. Without a word, she stepped into the elevator, punching a button for the new bridge. She looked down at her datapad, going over the ship status reports. All hands were on board for the shakedown cruise anyway, and Alamo was loaded with supplies for the long-duration cruise that no-one had admitted they were preparing for.
“Are you sure about this, Maggie?” Nelyubov asked.
“No,” she said. “I’m not going to let that stop me, though.”
“You’re taking a big risk, leaving Yeager Station undefended. We’re the first line of defense against attacks from the Cabal, the Not-Men, even the United Nations.” He raised a hand, and said, “I’m not arguing with you, just making the point.”
“True.”
“And we both know that this is a trap. Commodore Tramiel may be many things, but he isn’t stupid. We have to assume that Harper sent that message because she was allowed to send it, whether or not she knew it. He wants us to go out there.”
“Also true.” With a sigh, she said, “The secret to avoiding a trap is knowing that it exists. We have a six-day window to catch him and recover our people, and in my judgment, he represents a clear and present danger to the security of the Confederation. If we could, I’d pass it back to Captain Marshall, or Vice-Admiral Remek, but we haven’t got time to wait for them to give approval.”
He nodded, and said, “As I said, I’m not arguing with you. I’d probably be doing exactly the same if our roles were reversed. I’m just pointing out the alternatives.”
“Good. I’d like you to act as my executive officer, if you can do that and handle Tactical at the same time.”
With a frown, he replied, “You do realize that there are three people ahead of me in seniority. Quinn, Powell and Grant.”
Battlecruiser Alamo: Malware Blues Page 4