Mercedes eyed him suspiciously, “What’s that?”
“Who is the most dogged boy scout we know, who is also an outsider?”
She frowned, pointing at him, “No… No! Don’t you even say his name…”
“Your favorite person… Inspector Brooker.”
“Not just no, but hell no. Besides he gives me the creeps.”
“C’mon Mercy, he’s our best bet, he’s an outsider.” He watched her roll her head back on the headrest of her chair, staring at the ceiling. “I know you’re not fond of him…”
“Shut up,” she waved. “Let me think… It might work…” She righted herself and sat forward, “Look, he’s not just going to do us a favor... unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless he thinks he’s going to get what he wants.”
Chase looked almost apoplectic, “Wait - what? You can’t be serious! I… No. What he wants, is us in cuffs. In Amanpoor. No that’s…”
“Crazy,” interrupted Torn Dado. “I’m with him on this.”
Mercedes blinked hard, exhaling a deep breath, “Could I just finish my thought? Please?” She readjusted herself, “He wants to solve a big case. A multiple homicide. What if that multiple homicide, included conspiracy and corruption? It wouldn’t be our case, but it would be huge. He’d be a hero… We have to paint him a picture - make him see the value in it for him…”
■ ■ ■
Inspector Brooker had watched the presentation of evidence from the leather lounge sofa that wrapped part way around the conference room, his hands folded on his lap, his legs casually crossed at the knee. He remained silent.
Torn Dado’s impatience got the better of him, “So?”
The inspector looked pensive, introspective. “When you asked me to come here… well, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I must say, it’s not what I’d hoped for…”
“But?” prompted Mercedes.
“But… despite it not being what I’d hoped, you certainly did not disappoint.” He uncrossed and re-crossed his legs in the opposite direction, “I’m not sure what our path would be if the corruption reaches the top however.”
“There’s no national or global law enforcement agency?” asked Chase.
“No, I’m afraid not. Lucky for you, too. Or I would have had you in custody a long time ago.”
Mercedes smiled a cat-ate-the-canary smile, “Be honest, Inspector. With us it’s personal. You don’t want to share that credit with anybody else.”
“Hmm, quite right. You seem to know me pretty well, Ms. Huang.”
“So, if the Sheriff is involved?” reminded Torn Dado.
“I suppose it would force me to call the UFW for assistance. Not something we like to do here on G’Naroth Sarat - being that we’re out here on the border. Our position is rather… delicate - you understand, I’m sure.”
“We understand. No military or governmental organization to get assistance from either?”
“No…” He wiped an unseen speck of something off his pantleg, “Perhaps they would send someone… discreetly.”
“Someone like a GIS agent, or a team?”
“As much as I hate to admit it, they would be the ones probably responding. The UFW military would be too obvious, too bold. It would likely impact G’Naroth Sarat’s global economy. A ripple effect, I’m afraid, that could last months. If not longer.”
There are times, whether you’re a spy, an operative, an asset, a contractor, or an undercover cop, you have to rely on your gut - your intuitions, to make decisions on who to trust. It’s never an easy choice. It’s a calculated risk. And the margins for error are slimmer than a split hair. It’s something best done up close. Listen to their breathing, watch their eyes and facial features for those discreet little involuntary twitches and tics, listen to the pitch of their voice… Of course, it helps if you’re actually trained in what to look for. Mercedes moved over to the sofa and sat closer to him, “You do realize this could be quite dangerous for you personally, right?”
“I am aware.”
“Red, would you please go make the rounds and check security?” she asked without taking her eyes off Brooker.
“Yes, Ms. Mercedes.”
She waited until the conference room door closed. “Inspector can we trust you? With our lives?”
His eyes darted to Torn Dado, Chase Holt and back to her again. “I am not sure I understand what you’re asking me…”
“That this is quite probably going to be the most dangerous thing you’ve ever undertaken. That if it all goes to crap, and it comes down to pulling triggers and dodging slugs, that we don’t have to worry about you turning on us, or, catching one in the back from you. Can we, trust you?”
“Yes. And I am a man of my word.”
She saw nothing in his face that would suggest otherwise. “Good…”
“And can I assume, if you thought I couldn’t be trusted, I would be dead now?”
Mercedes held a tight little smile, neither confirming or denying. “What I’m about to tell you, might help you understand a little better…”
Chase rose out of his chair, “Mercy, what are you doing?”
She stayed him with an open hand without looking in his direction, focused on Brooker. “If this gets around, we will know where it came from… No one, and I do mean no one else, knows…”
“Mercy…” warned Chase.
“I understand,” nodded the Inspector.
She laid her CIA identification card in his hand, the holograms glittering in the lights of the conference room. “I am originally from a planet called Earth, in a system you would call the Terran System. I am a special agent from that planet.” She laid her UFW military card in his hand. “We are contracted to work with the UFW on special assignments…”
Brooker looked at Chase then Torn Dado, receiving reluctant nods from them both. “The casualties at the Cork & Cleaver - were they a special assignment?” There didn’t seem to be any animus in his question.
“Mercy…”
Mercy disregarded the growl from Chase. In for a penny, in for a pound. If Brooker got stupid, he could join Waldron Topps out in the desert. “Escaped war criminals guilty of Platricide - planetary murder, wanted by the UFW, the GIS and the MIS. If it wasn’t us, it would have been another team,” she lied.
“Are there other teams like yours on G’Naroth Sarat?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“And your Mr. Mercury?”
“We are not at liberty to discuss that topic.”
“But…”
“No,” she cut him off with a gesture.
Brooker looked stunned by the revelations, handing back the cards to Mercedes, “Why didn’t you…”
“We had no idea who we could trust,” she interrupted. “And your people weren’t exactly in a talking mood. We were stranded, without support. We did what we had to do...”
“What were they doing here? The criminals I mean…”
“Meeting their agent and getting paid. Our regret was missing several others… And the agent - we would’ve liked to have caught him to find out who arranged it all.”
“A blessing and a curse I suppose,” conceded the Inspector. He picked up his hat laying on the leather surface next to him, nodding toward the door, “Would you mind? I think I could really use a drink…”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
PERSEUS, MIRBELLUS SYSTEM : DUSTOFF
Commander Derrik Brighton spun his head to the right, giving Commander Reegan a curious stare, “What the hell was that?”
Reegan prodded his stomach, “Guess I’m hungry, I skipped dinner. I was too stressed to eat…”
“You sound like my Mini Cooper when I miss a gear…” He thumbed over his shoulder toward the bridge exit, “Go eat, mate. And by the way, you missed dinner and breakfast.”
“Has it been that long?”
“It has. Get some rest, I’ll handle it until Ragnaar comes on shift. Then it’s my turn.”
Brighton nodded, waving him off, “I’ve got it handled. Hopefully the rest of Mirbellus will be a damn sight quieter than the Grinder… At the very least, it’s easier on the eyes.”
“Just don’t wait if there’s something…”
“Bloody hell, Reegan!” scolded Derrik. “We’re fine. Get a meal and some rack time!”
■ ■ ■
Commander Reegan rolled on his back, his eyes searching the inside of his eyelids, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, his mind attempting to identify the sound that was inserting itself into his dreams. He decided it was not the chirp of a bird in the trees… dammit. His hand wandered the nightstand, finding the earpiece without opening his eyes and fumbled with it, getting it into his ear, tapping the comm, “This had better be good…” he grumbled.
“Skipper, the boy is awake…”
What? That wasn’t registering with the mind that was still in the trees with the sparkling sunlight playing through the leaves… “What boy…” he asked sleepily.
“The kid we picked up with his mother in the lifepod - from the Grinder...?”
“Awake? I thought you said there was no brain activity…”
“That has changed. You might want to come down to the infirmary…”
“Fine, Doc….” Reegan touched the comm ending the connection. How long had he slept? According to his MOBIUS, a little over six hours. Hmm. Well, it was something at least. Though he felt like he could easily do another six.
■ ■ ■
Mother and son slept peacefully in the infirmary - neighboring beds pushed close enough that their occupants were holding hands. Fritz lay across the boy’s legs, Allie laid alongside the mother. Fritz did not lift his head, but his eyes followed Reegan as he entered the room.
“What is this, then?” inquired the Commander, a little too loudly.
The doctor shushed him, pulling him into the corridor by the elbow, “Not sure I understand it Commander… the damnedest thing really… of course it could be a coincidence… I just don’t…”
“Spit it out Doc,” urged Reegan, his patience waning. Damn, I need more sleep…
“It started about three hours ago; we weren’t doing anything differently, just monitoring the boy. She had been sitting in the chair by his bed for hours… I really don’t think she had any hope left. All his vitals have been steady, but nothing had changed since we left the Grinder… It was the most peculiar thing…”
“Doc…” insisted Reegan.
“Alright,” he gestured. “The dogs came in - I think more to comfort her than anything else… She was so tired we put her in a bed and moved them together. Both dogs jumped up onto the beds and laid down with them. We were a bit hesitant at first, but the male…” he pointed.
“Fritz?”
“Yes, well, he was rather adamant - a little frightening actually.”
Reegan nodded a smirk creeping in, “Yes, he can be quite insistent.”
“Once they settled, she fell asleep almost immediately, the first time we’ve really seen her sleep since our run-in with…” he shrugged, “well, you know.”
“And?”
“And that’s when the boy’s EEG readouts began to change. It was gradual at first, but over the course of a couple hours his brainwave patterns emerged, strengthened and normalized. Fritz,” he motioned to the Shepherd, “slid his muzzle under the boy’s hand. At one point before he physically awoke, we realized he was stroking the dog’s face and ear.”
“He actually woke up? Did he say anything?”
“For a few minutes. He was thirsty.”
Reegan indicated the readout on the screen above the bed, “Is that his EEG?”
“Yes. It’s indicating he is in normal REM sleep.”
“Does she know?”
“No, she was asleep. We will tell her when she wakes…” He shook his head, watching the boy, “I don’t know if the toxicity of the drugs just finally dropped below the threshold, or…”
“Or if the affection of a dog brought him back to life?”
The doctor eyed Reegan for a moment, contemplating the implication, “It sounds crazy… doesn’t it?”
Reegan did something that combined a shake of his head, a shrug and a wave of his hands, “Pssh, what do I know; we just came through a system that had glowing, single-cell space algae called Fillaree, worshiped by pirates called Grinders, who want to ambush ships to cut them up. At this point, anything is believable…”
■ ■ ■
“L.T., multiple contacts. Bearing, three-three-eight, by three-seven-nine.”
Lieutenant Loech Braskus glanced out over his left wing, a position check on his wingman, flying abreast about a half mile away. Adjusting the focus and narrowing the sweep of his P-57’s sensors, the markers appeared on his screen. “I’ve got them… That last one is pretty big, whatever it is.” He set his hand on the throttle, “Thrust, down to ten percent… now.”
“Copy, down to ten. Think they can spot us, L.T.?”
“Not at this distance, Junior. Let’s just hang out here a little bit, see if we can pull an ident of some kind.” Braskus configured a narrow-beam directional comm, aiming the signal back at the Perseus cruising about two hours behind them...
■ ■ ■
“Skipper, signal coming in from our patrol flight. They’ve spotted something…”
“I’m on my way.” Reegan tapped his earpiece, the comm ending with a light chirp. “Alright Doc,” he clapped the doctor on the shoulder, “I’ve got to run, keep me informed of their progress.” He pointed at Fritz as he backed away from the doorway, “And you, be a good boy, don’t give Doc a hard time…” He spun on his heel and trotted up the corridor toward the bridge.
■ ■ ■
The video inset of Loech Braskus on the big screen was in green and black hues, his eyes glowing from the night vision image intensifiers. “You have contact, Lieutenant?” asked Reegan, standing between the command stations.
“That is correct, Commander. We originally counted four, but that has increased to six. I don’t know if more came through the gate or their formation blocked an accurate count. And more than one looks to be a heavy. There’s at least one large cruiser or possibly a battleship.”
“Can you pull idents, Lieutenant?”
“Negative. They are spreading in a wide formation and at least two faster ships are running extended, out front. We might be able to pull their idents, but they will likely spot us before we can identify the others.”
Reegan rubbed the stubble on his chin, “What’s their heading?”
“It’s not clear, Commander. They’re performing a zig-zag pattern…”
“Sounds like a sweep.”
“Possible. Or defensive maneuvers. In any case, it might be wise to take the Perseus to the dark side of something - keep a planet between us and them.”
Reegan reached over and flipped tabs on his left monitor, “Mr. Ragnaar, what are our options?”
A system chart appeared as an overlay on the big screen, Ragnaar indicating his choice, “That one, on the right. It is a small Class 12b – useful if we need to go to ground. It has an atmosphere; thin but breathable. Mostly desert and rock but some forestation, a little water… And a little more stable than a Class 12a.”
“Population?” inquired Derrik.
“Nothing recorded on the charts,” replied Ragnaar.
“Do it,” commanded Reegan. “And send Mr. Braskus the coordinates.” He turned back to the big screen, “Lieutenant, loiter long enough to get some kind of indication of who they are, then get the hellion out, meet us at the coordinates.”
“Copy that, Commander…”
“I want you out before they can spot or track you.”
“Understood.” The comm square winked ou
t.
■ ■ ■
Seeing his breath in the frosty confines of his cockpit, Loech Braskus reached forward and flipped on the warmers, most of his other systems dark, conserving battery power while they drifted silently, waiting for the oncoming ships. The comm in his helmet crackled to life on a local channel, “I kicked my warmers on for a bit, L.T., it’s pretty chilly.”
Braskus keyed his comm, “Me too, Junior. Just watch your battery status, don’t let it fall below fifty percent.”
“Copy that. Sitting at eighty-three percent.”
Checking his MOBIUS, the Lieutenant realized why certain parts of his body, south of the equator, were going numb; they’d been in their respective cockpits going on nine hours. Not necessarily from weight and gravity, because there wasn’t much to speak of without the gravity system fully engaged - the gyro was sitting at idle. No, it would be mostly from non-movement. He shifted, trying to stretch his legs… a nice stroll would be great about now. His eyes shifted when a flicker from his right screen caught his peripheral vision. He keyed his comm, “The Perseus just disappeared from my sweep…”
“Did they drop off the edge?”
“No, they disappeared. Must have reached the coordinates.”
“And our friends are just about within ident range.”
“Good. Once we pull an ID, we’re going to do a one-eighty and backtrack long enough to be invisible before we break for our rendezvous coordinates.”
■ ■ ■
The Chief Engineer dropped the data wafer on the glass surface of the holo-chart in the Captain’s ready room, the three-dimensional chart replaced with a three-dimensional image of the Perseus, the battle scars and damage from her encounter with the Toberus light cruiser in Xian Pi easily visible. He rotated the image to show the Starboard side, pointing to the rearmost turret, labelled #1, “That one is done. Nothing we can do with that mess.” He pointed to turrets labelled #2 and #3, “These however, I think we can return to full operational status, by cutting away the damage here, here and here, freeing them up for full range of motion...”
Resurrection Page 16