“But what if…”
“If he needs help, he’ll ask. But trust me, that doesn’t happen very often.”
“Who…”
“Think Men In Black. That’s all I can give you. And never discuss a flight like that outside this room… Ever.”
■ ■ ■
Las Vegas is a short hop by helicopter to Area 51 and the salt flats of Groom Lake, so when FBI Special Agent Phil Cooper’s sister wanted him to meet her for dinner to announce her engagement, he obliged. Even though this would be her third…
Though the McCarran International Airport was in fairly close proximity to the Vegas strip, there was little need to hassle with the traffic on the Strip when you fly in one of the government’s unmarked, all-black helicopters. Being the Director of Operation Starlight had its perks.
Phil Cooper was a man of simple tastes, the Vegas strip and all of its flash and glitter didn’t impress him, he had never much liked it there, in most cases he’d avoided it - like the plague. But his sister was, well, more colorful. Flamboyant. Flashy even. Number Three, was reported to be a millionaire several times over. And when Phil did what any good brother would; ran him through a background check from hell, he turned out to be completely legit. Well good for Bridget, maybe she’d found the right one this time. He certainly seemed nicer than One and Two. Did Phil actually like Number Three? It was too soon to tell, but he’d given him passing grades so far. In fact, Phil gave him extra credits for choosing LeCirque for a party this size and picking up the entire tab. That took guts. And deep pockets.
Phil Cooper could feel his TESS buzz against his wrist, confirming he’d remembered to silence the chime and audio, which left him hoping to God, he’d remembered to disable the holo-screen as well. As luck would have it, he had. Fishing out his cell phone, he pushed away from the dinner table, I’m sorry, I have to take this, he mimed.
“No, Phil,” urged his sister, “sit down, not tonight…”
“I have to take it, he said weakly,” trying not to disrupt the conversation, waggling his cell phone, the TESS silently buzzing away.
“You promised, no work tonight…”
Phil wormed his way around the seat, “I’ll be right back, I promise…” he added, pushing the chair back in and rotating away, looking for the closest exit. He needed a quiet place.
Number Three leaned close in to his wife to be, “What’s going on?” he asked.
Bridget shrugged, “I’m certain it’s work. It always is - he’s married to his job. National Security… I’ve been hearing it all my life.”
■ ■ ■
Staring at the holo-screen, Phil Cooper cocked his head to one side, the background filled with a landscape the color of rust, a helmeted figure with a reflective gold facemask peering back at him, an image of the holo-screen and his own face reflected, looking back at himself. “Who...?” he quizzed.
“Michelle Fabry.”
“Ahh,” he nodded approvingly, “Michelle! Good to hear from you… Are… are you outside?”
“Yes, Phil. And we have news - astounding news! This discovery is going to change everything!”
“Whoa - slow down, Doctor. Start from the beginning. Tell me everything - don’t leave anything out…”
■ ■ ■
Phil Cooper stepped out of the back of the limo parked in front of LeCirque and handed the driver, leaning on the fender a twenty, “Thanks for letting me borrow your back seat… Your country thanks, you.” The man nodded and pocketed the bill as the Agent walked back into the restaurant, like it happened every night.
Phil shook his head, the realization sinking in, Jesus Christ, there may have been humans on Mars. He was going to have to meet with the President and the Joint Chiefs as soon as possible. He seriously doubted the world was prepared for this type of news. It was almost harder to comprehend than aliens and space travel. In retrospect, Dr Fabry was handling things exceedingly well; requesting specific talent for a Mars research expedition that was probably going to be a lot longer term than anyone had initially anticipated. He was proud of her, and his choice. She had been an excellent pick for this mission. And she wasn’t wrong; this is going to change everything…
Phil’s demeanor switched the instant he walked back into the party, a warm smile covering the concern he felt.
“Phil,” acknowledged Number Three with a smile, “everything alright?”
Phil sat and pulled in his chair, “The World is still intact. Mission accomplished,” he joked, exchanging a look with his sister.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
BLACK WIDOW, ARMACORE SYSTEM : BETTER LATE THAN NEVER
Dexmar was an industrial hub, a planet overcrowded with manufacturing facilities of nearly every shape and kind imaginable. A mostly grey world, with grey buildings, grey streets, grey air and grey people. It was as if the only other colors on the palette were rust and oily brown. Closer examination revealed little splashes of color in the form of scattered neon signage, but they did little in the broad scheme of the most depressing place Michel Thorn could ever recall visiting.
Standing on the tarmac between the much smaller Black Widow and the Palladium, easily ten-times her size, Thorne watched transports and cargo ferries busy themselves, offloading the hauler’s freight into the nearby warehouse.
The Palladium’s First Mate trotted over from a meeting with several transport agents near the ship’s freight elevator, “Mr. Thorne…”
“Lieutenant…” nodded Michel.
“You’ll be happy to know we won’t be deadheading to Velora Prime, I’ve gotten us nearly a full load. We have a delivery to Ganseer.”
“Nothing illicit, I hope.”
The Lieutenant pulled up a manifest tab on his MOBIUS, “Not a one; ship engines, medical equipment, parts, vehicles…”
“Make sure the guys double-check everything really well before we lift off. The time to catch anything that doesn’t belong, is while we’re still on the ground.”
“Aye, Sir.”
Michel pursed his lips, “How’s the Captain?”
The First Mate shook his head, “Not well. A transport took him up to the hospital on DexCore Station about thirty minutes ago. The doctor here at the clinic said it was more than he could handle.”
“Is he contagious?”
“No.”
“How long?”
“The Doc said a couple weeks.”
“Dammit. Well if he gets out before we return, he’ll have to cool his heels and relax until we swing back to pick him up. Make arrangements so the Captain has accommodations and funds to hold him until we finish our run to Velora Prime.”
“Will do.” The First Mate looked pensive, “Mr. Thorne, I hate to mention it, but we were already a little short on crew…”
Michel nodded, “I know. I’ll see what I can do.” His MOBIUS chimed indicating an incoming comm. Glancing at the screen on his wrist he nodded to the Palladium’s First Officer, “I’ve got to get this…” he turned away and opened the holo-screen, strolling slowly toward the Black Widow. “Hey, Pop…”
His father, JonLouis, glanced up at the camera, “Finally, Michel. You know the client is not happy about the delay…”
“Well he can stop complaining now, he has his load. “
“Did you apologize, Michel?”
Thorne rolled his eyes, “Yes, Pop. He’s just trying to get a discount - and that’s not happening. Everything is in perfect condition - not a single scratch.” He pointed at his father for emphasis, “Not a single penny discount off the invoice, understand?”
JonLouis raised his hands in capitulation, “I will leave that totally up to you, Michel. When will you be heading back...?”
■ ■ ■
“Knock, knock…” Michel tapped on the bulkhead with his knuckle as he entered the small lounge, Jack Steele stretched out on the single sofa reading something on his MOBIUS.
Without moving, Steele looked up over the top of the holo-screen hovering in front
of him, “Sup, Michel?”
Thorne’s eyes narrowed momentarily, not sure if Jack was still perturbed over the stop at Byas-Kuyol, or if there was something else bothering him. He couldn’t even remember the last time Steele had used his proper name, preferring the decidedly American Mike or Mikie when he was playing around. He shook it off, clearing his throat, “Look, Jack, I realize you’re rather bored on the Widow. I get it, she’s small, we have a full crew and there’s nothing for you to do, no way for you to contribute…”
Steele raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to one side, listening intently.
“Well I have an idea…”
Steele flicked the corner of the holo-screen and it winked out of existence, “Talk to me, buddy.”
“You’d be doing me a big favor…”
Steele swung his feet off the sofa’s armrest and sat up, his interest growing. “Spit it out, Brother.”
“We lost the Captain of the Palladium, he was rushed up to the hospital on DexCore Station, he’s very sick…”
“Ooh, sorry to hear that… So you want me to run the Widow while you’re over on the Palladium? No problem…”
Michel’s eyes widened, “Huh? No… I want you to…”
“Psch,” snorted Steele with a wave, grinning, “I knew what you meant. Geez you’re easy - you should’ve seen the look on your face! Priceless,” he added, mocking his wide-eyed surprise.
Michel Thorn returned a cold look of derision, “And? Will you?”
Steele rose with a shrug, “Yeah, sure,” he replied nonchalantly. “Geez, who stole your sense of humor today?”
Michel closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Sorry. Stressful day.”
Steele reached out and gently shook his friend by the shoulder, “Ok, don’t sweat it, I got your back. When do I need to head over?”
“Now please. She’s almost loaded…”
“Ok, let me grab my clothes and my gear bag.”
Michel rubbed a tension spot above his brow, “Look, we’re making one more stop between here and Velora Prime, no detours, it’s on the way. Ganseer. The delivery will put us into the black…”
“I get it. We’re good,” nodded Steele.
“You might just want to comm the wifey and give her an update,” Thorne reminded him.
■ ■ ■
Michel Thorn dropped himself into the Black Widow’s command seat, activating his control screens, “Status?”
“All systems active and standing by. All liftoff parameters met - except hull seal. Waiting for confirmation from the Palladium…”
“Has Mr. Steele made it over yet?”
“Negative, Skipper. See camera Seven…”
Thorne gave his First Mate a questioning glance as he flipped holo-screen tabs to external cameras, enlarging the frame for camera seven, which covered the crew elevator to the ground, Jack Steele stood toe-to-toe with Mutti in a focused conversation. “What the hell...?” muttered Thorne. Knowing there was no love lost between the two men, he zoomed-in to see if he could determine the temperature of the conversation, wishing the camera had a microphone. To his surprise, and a strange pang of suspicion, the conversation appeared personal and amicable. Almost to the point of friendly. To the camera’s vantage point it looked to Thorne that the big German had passed something small to Steele before they exchanged a friendly fist-bump before Steele turned, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and trotted toward the Palladium. Mutti stepped back onto the Black Widow’s crew elevator, ascending alone.
Pursing his lips in contemplation, Thorne closed the tab, running scenarios though his mind of such a strange meeting. It wasn’t the fact that two men were saying goodbye that made it strange - it was the fact that there was a distinct dislike between those two men that made it strange. Could it have been a mutual apology? Perhaps. But somehow, to Thorne, that didn’t seem likely.
If confronted, would either one of them offer a straight answer? Would their answers match? He decided if there was something conspiratorial about the meeting, they would be careful enough to have corresponding stories. But why pick a place where they were almost certain to be seen? Thorn mentally shook his head; because they knew it was the only place and time no one could overhear their conversation.
If he wasn’t concerned before, he certainly was now. But what could they possibly be up to?
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CASTILLE SYSTEM, BYAS-KUYOL : SOMEBODY CALL FOR A LIFT?
Rikit Lobat hobbled through his third-floor apartment and up the stairs to the roof of the building, a makeshift cane assisting his balance, his left gluteus maximus protesting with fiery, eye-watering pain. The afternoon sun felt good as he steered around the small solar collectors on the roof that supplied the building with limited power. “Fuck me, my ass is on fire…”
“Sounds like a personal hygiene problem to me,” snarked Jack, without breaking concentration with the binocular-like scanners he was using to study the horizon.
Rikit feigned indignance, “I’ll have you know, I was shot while executing a secret rescue mission for a good friend…”
“Psh,” snorted Jack. “If you call a bag of diamonds a good friend,” he remarked with a smirk, still studying the horizon.
“The diamonds were the secret part of the mission…” Rikit said in hushed tones. “That I got shot during. Rescuing you. Risking my life - and getting shot.”
“Yeah yeah, shot. I think you mentioned that. Y’know, I got shot too, in case you’ve forgotten,” replied Steele, adjusting the zoom. “I’ve got the bruises to prove it. And need I remind you who got us in that predicament?”
Rikit shrugged, “I remember… But they were shooting at you with sandbag rounds. Me? Me they shoot at with real bullets. How did I get so lucky to win that treatment?”
“Maybe it was something you said?” Rubbing his eyes with his free hand, Steele set the scanners on the waist-high lip of the wall that ran the edge of the entire roof and turned back to look over his shoulder at Rikit. “You’re going to pull your stitches if you keep wandering around - you need to rest…”
Rikit shrugged again, “How the hellion can I do that when I can’t even sit comfortably?”
“Lay on your side, I guess.”
“I’ve been laying on my side for days, I’m bored. And it feels like there’s still something in there,” he complained.
Jack shook his head, “I watched. She got everything. It was all shrapnel from the floorpan of the Tempest. It was deep though – you do have torn muscle tissue. And if you keep screwing around, you’re going to make it worse. Go back to bed,” he motioned casually.
Rikit Lobat sighed, “Fine…” he grunted, his head tilted to one side, frowning at the fabric spread out on the surface of the roof, “Are those my sheets?” he motioned.
“Yeah. X marks the spot.”
Perplexed, Rikit scratched his forehead, “I don’t understand.”
“A marker so they can see us from the air.”
“Hmm, I don’t understand how they’ll know it’s you - and it won’t do you any good at night…”
Steele rubbed his chin, Yeah, I know, wish we had a portable light or something to light it.”
“Something like that could be seen from the ground too,” observed Rikit, “it might attract attention - the kind we don’t want.”
“Yeah, well, too bad we don’t have something in the infra-red range, nobody else would be able to see it.”
“You think a small infra-red emitter from a bio scanner would work? I have parts in the basement from old equipment that I borrowed from the clinic.”
Steele raised an eyebrow, “Borrowed?”
Rikit took a deep breath, “Do you want them or not,” he said flatly.
“Does a bear shit in the woo…” he watched the caretaker’s eyebrows raise in a facial question mark. “Yes. Yes I want them.”
“Ok, I’ll go down and take a look. I’ll bring the parts up to the apartment.” Rikit pulled on
his lower lip in thought, “I’ll have to see if I have a power cell to run it too...” He nodded in the direction Jack had been watching, “Have you seen anything?”
Steele picked up the scanners and turned back, “Not a thing,” he replied, sounding disappointed. “I can see the top of the control tower but none of the field from here. I’m hoping to see something as it comes in - though I have no idea what ship I’m looking for.”
Rikit shook his head as he turned toward the stairs, “We might have to take a walk down there to...”
“We? No. No way I’m letting you walk that far yet,” blurted Jack, spinning around, “even if you could. Which you can’t. Besides, there’s any number of people who we can’t afford to run into out there. You’re in no shape to fight or run.”
Rikit squinted, eyeing the sun heading toward the horizon on the opposite side of the building, the afternoon shadows stretching longer, “It’ll be dark soon, we’d be alright in the dark…”
“Oh hell no. If I need to take a closer look, I can cover ground faster and safer without you.” Jack saw the concern on Rikit’s face, “Dammit, I’m not going to leave you here… If I was, we wouldn’t have made the trip out to the farm.” He turned back to continue scanning the airspace above the flight tower. “Now go back to bed, before you blow your stitches.” He glanced back over his shoulder, “After you find those parts…”
Partially satisfied, Rikit turned back toward the stairs, navigating his way back around the solar collectors. He paused, feeling as if a shadow had passed over him, though the sunlight appeared uninterrupted. He cast his eyes skyward, looking for errant clouds in a nearly cloudless sky. “Hmm, that’s odd,” he muttered.
“What’s that?”
“Felt cooler for a second - like a shadow went by… but there’s no clouds.”
“I hope you’re not developing an infection…” countered Steele. “I’ll get the neighbor as soon as it gets dark, she can check your stitches again…”
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