“That depends.” Pete said conversationally as if they were discussing soup. “How big a thing?”
“Let’s say the size of that fridge.” Worthington gestured, ”And spare no expense.”
“That would be easy. A shipping container sent via catapult. With a boring manifest. Place the thing in first and then fill the front of container with whatever is on the manifest. Inspectors are lazy. They will rarely search an entire container.” He leaded on the end wall and continued. “Besides, inspections are random. Only about three percent of the containers are opened for inspection.”
“How do you know any of this?” Jimbo asked.
“How do you like the soup?” Pho Pete asked.
“This is the best soup I have ever eaten!” Hume inserted.
“Damn good,” Rand added.
“How can you eat it so fast when it’s that hot?” Hume asked her.
“The soup is great. So what.” Worthington was getting impatient.
“Earth has imposed import and export restrictions in the last ten years making it harder to stay in business.” Pete leaned his elbows on the counter in a casual pose to come closer. “No animal or animal matter is allowed for export. Not even fresh cow bones.”
Worthington looked incredulous, “You ship cow bones?”
“I ship lumber,” Pete said. “At least in the front.”
“That’s why the soup is so good?” Hume said between blowing and sipping.
“Real bone broth.” He said, “When done I take the bones and crush them to jell powder and sell if by the pallet to the hospital department on the station for cultures. Lumber is an easy sell.”
“I am thinking a shipping container might be…” Worthington began.
There was a crackling sound from behind them. It all then happened at once. Rand through her bowl of hot soup into a man’s face that was just behind Hume. By reflex, the mans hands went to his face while the riot gloves he wore were still activated. Hume braced with both hands on the counter, hit him with both her booted feet in mid chest. All this sent him flying out into the promenade to come to a sliding unconscious rest on his back.
He wore a Station Security uniform.
“Station, is this man an imposter?” Rand asked.
Station replied so all three could hear, “No. He is on the security team.”
“Dammit. I thought this might happen. Only some of the security tem were unwitting.” Hume cursed.
Rand was checking to see if he was still alive. There was a pulse. She took the gun from his holster.
“Come. Quickly.” Pete said as he came over the counter, no longer wearing an apron.
They followed him into the crowd.
“That guy’s name is Parks. He was always an asshole.” Pete said as the crowd walked around him and some even stepping over him. “Look, what’s this about now?”
“We don’t want to start a panic,” Jimbo said as the lift door closed. “Station, hold this elevator.”
“Panic?”
“There is a nuke hidden on the station. Dalton has the remote so he can destroy the station and blame someone else. We need to find it. How can we find it?” Jimbo said.
“Could it be in a diplomatic container? They never inspect those.” Pete asked.
“There are no diplomatic containers on Freedom Station currently,” Station replied via the elevator speakers so Pete could hear.
“Is there any way we could find it otherwise?” Rand asked.
“It would have to be lead shielded to prevent scans. Heavy.” Hume added.
“Shit. There are something like ten thousand containers on this station at any time. It could have been here for a long time; it could be landing as we speak.” Pete cursed, “It’s a needle in a hay stack.”
“What we need is a magnet,” Worthington said. “Station. Port Level please.” The elevator began to move.
“A magnet?” Hume asked.
“Station. Do you know the mass of all the containers in the port?” Worthington asked.
“Yes, Jimbo.”
“Would the lead shielding make it the heaviest container?” Jim asked.
“No. The nuke could be smallish in size. Add a block of lead around it. Machine part containers would weigh far more.” Hume said as the elevator stopped.
“How many containers are we talking about?” Rand asked as the door opened. It looked like massive, brightly lit warehouse. It was busy despite the late hour.
“11,731 in current inventory,” Station replied.
“Station. Of all the containers in your inventory are there any that are unusual? Any that are outliers in any way?” Worthington asked.
The four of them were walking down one of the vast lanes watching the bustle of bot lifts and people, loading and unloading.
“We have two hundred and eleven that have never been opened. Of those thirty seven have not been signed for.” Station detailed. “Of those only three have had storage prepaid for ten years or more.”
“Jimbo, let me ask you something,” Hume asked. “Why did you ask Pete Morales?” she turned to him, “No offense, Pete. We can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done.”
Jimbo looked from Hume to Pete. “Because Barcus pointed me there…” his voice faded off.
“Station are any of these outliers near any containers owned by Pete?” Jimbo asked.
“Negative,” Station replied.
Pete spoke up. “Are any of them near P37-10007?”
“Yes. Directly adjacent.” Station replied.
“Let’s start there. Station do you have eyes on it?” Rand asked as they arrived at the transport station. Pete was signing out a transport flatbed. They could drive to his container. Otherwise, it would be a forty minute walk.
“A drone will be there in three minutes,” Station answered.
***
“Airspace around the space port and catapult is under heavy traffic control. You should approach from the West and land at the inner city municipal dock. We can walk from there.” Zimmerman said.
“It is Space Standard Time plus six here.” Barcus conveyed.
Traffic was heavy even though it was just before midnight local time. “It looks like, there was a sporting event in the Velodrome tonight.” Zimmerman looked at the streets below as they moved in slowly. “That will allow us to blend in far easier. The restaurant is called Itto. Great sushi.”
They were lucky, and Stu found a landing pad on the roof of the ground transport garage closest to the place they needed to be. It was only two city blocks from there.
Barcus didn’t rise when they landed to Po’s surprise. He just spun around his seat to face Zimmerman.
“I will take Shaw to find Krieger. It will be less suspicious.” Jack said as he moved to the ladder. “You just look too pissed off,” he pointed at Barcus, “And you,” he pointed at Po, “would never stop looking up like an Iowa tourist. Let’s go Shaw. You’re my date.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, troglodyte,” Shaw answered as she followed him down the ladder.
“You like sushi, Shaw?” Zimmerman asked, “Cause there’s only two things that taste as good as sushi, and one of them is sushi. I love sushi…” They’re voices faded as they left the ship.
Barcus turned his chair back around, “Stu, keep the mains online and inertial dampeners on full. Bridge and bay. Be ready for emergency take off.”
***
Rand was the first to round the final corner onto the aisle they were looking for when she took a round to the face of her helmet. It staggered her, but she didn’t go down.
The frangible round shattered on the helmets armor, pieces deflected and caught Pete Morales in the right cheekbone. It was like a ghost had punched him in the face. Rand went one way and Pete the other.
Hume emerged between them, gun drawn and firing. In less than a second, she had spotted all the of them. They stood in the center of the aisle and were dressed as station security. Instantly she adjusted her a
im. The first one she shot just below his vest, halfway between his navel and genitals. The second stood there bringing up his carbine, and he caught one right in the face. Instant death. He fell straight down like a bag of wet sand. The third she shot in the arm that held his carbine and when he turned to run she shot him in the ass. He went down.
“Station.” Jimbo called out loud, “Are these men Station security?”
“No, Jim.” Station replied, “But their clothes and weapons are official Station gear.” They ran up to where they fell. Two were dead already. One was trying to drag himself away.
Jimbo and Rand collected carbines and trank guns as Hume advanced on the living one. He tried to roll over and grip his carbine onto his back with his left hand, but he was too slow. Hume stomped on the rifle as it was over his wounded arm and part of his chest.
He screamed.
“Do you get paid enough to die here today?” Hume was pointing her gun at his face.
“We know who you are, bitch. You’re dead already.”
She shot him between the eyes.
“Everybody keeps thinking that,” Hume said, handing the trank gun to Pete and taking the carbine for herself.
A surveillance drone, the size and shape of a hockey puck, whizzed by overhead. New windows opened in their HUDs showing it’s view. The warehouse was vast and as it zoomed to Pete’s container. They could see two men were on top of the neighboring unit prone with rifles.
“Please, note.” Station said, “Those rifles are not Frange carbines. Your armor will be of little use.”
“I guess we’re onto something,” Rand said.
“Doyou think any of these asswipes know they are guarding a nuke?”
“I may be able to help.” Station said as they moved closer. They saw a crane moving this way with a container.
“These containers are made to stack. Be ready,” Station said.
They split up wordlessly. Rand and Pete went to one end and Jimbo and Hume the other. The warehouse level was designed to have room for containers to be stacked three high plus crane space.
When the crane stopped directly over the men and began to rapidly lower they rolled off the top of the container landing neatly on the floor with rifles ready.
Everyone began shooting at the same time. The men in the security uniforms fell with head shots. But not before firing several times.
Hume and Rand were down.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT:
Dawn Came Early
“Thirty three years ago I was a Colonel on leave in Freedom Station.
I saw what happened with my own eyes from an observation deck.”
--Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: General Patricia Chase, senior member of the Earth Defense Coalition.
<<<>>>
They walked through the clean, well-lit streets past the Velodrome into the closed streets of the Federal district. Traffic was restricted here to foot traffic and VIPs.
“Why are you such an asshole all the time Jack?” Shaw asked him out of the blue.
“Because I hate people.”
“No, you don’t. You’re doing it again. Right there.” She pointed at him with a thumb, “You are old school protect and serve.”
“Fuck you, Shaw.” He simply said. She laughed.
“Fine. Don’t tell me. We don’t have time anyway.” She said as they entered a street and saw the sign for Itto. Shaw hesitated when she saw the sleek black personal shuttle parked out front. It was exactly like the one the High Keeper had on Baytirus. A soldier in dress uniform stood at parade rest at the curb.
“He’s here,” Zimmerman murmured as they entered the establishment. It was dim, romantic lighting inside and the place was large but maintained an authentic, intimate feel with a lot of carved wood and strategically placed screens giving some level of privacy.
They passed through a massive arch from the foyer and could see General Kreiger at his table talking with one of the chefs.
They were seated near Kreiger and pasted directly through his field of view. He noticed Zimmerman. It was hard not to notice him.
Soon the Chef retreated to the kitchen and the General stood and walked over to the table.
Offering a hand to shake he said, “Jack… It has been far too long.” Zimmerman took the offered hand and gave it a mighty squeeze that was returned in kind.
“Sir, I’d like you to meet Beth Shaw. She’s…” Zimmerman was interrupted by the soldier that had been standing by the limo outside.
“Sir, we must go. Now, sir.” He said obviously with forced calm.
“What’s going on, son.”
“Apparently there are known terrorists in the vicinity, and all VIPs have been requested to evac.”
“Come with me,” Krieger whispered. Jack and Beth both stood and followed him out. Both curbside gull wings were already open. And just as General Krieger ducted to enter the limo the drivers head exploded, and Beth felt the concussion of wind as a bullet just missed her own.
She was tackled from behind by Jack and fell directly into the front door of the limo. She was disoriented only briefly when she realized she was behind the controls. She pounded the door controls and activated the main grav-foils. The limo leapt into the air as it was pelted by bullets.
She gained the controls as Zimmerman tried to right himself. He had landed in the shuttle with his head in the foot well.
“Are you hit?” She yelled at Jack as he struggled around. “Jack? General?”
“Fuck! I’m fine.” He was finally upright. He looked at Shaw. She had a bloody wound that started at her cheekbone and went back, bisecting her right ear.
Jack looked at Kreiger. He was slumped in the seat.
“Get us back to Stu. Fast.” Jack said, He wanted to tell her she had been shot. He’d seen this before. She’d know soon enough.
They didn’t dare radio Stu but Beth simply landed directly inside the open cargo bay. Stu was taking off before the limo doors were open.
Barcus flew down the ladder not touching a single rung, They were already dragging Krieger out of the back and toward the Med-bay. Just as the cargo bay doors closed and the silence was restored.
Then it began.
A nuclear bomb detonated in the center of Mexico City.
Po was on the bridge alone to witness the shockwave, the fireball, the mushroom cloud rolling up as if it was chasing them. It happened in slow motion. The STU’s dome protected her from the ultimate brightness of the flash. In doing so, revealed to her the full impact of the devastation. She watched in horror as the shockwave chased them crushing everything in its path. As they sped toward the mountains, the homes they flew above would be on fire in a moment. Finally clearing the mountains the fireball seemed like a sunset beyond them. She turned to look in the direction of their motion. It was illuminating the clouds. Made more horrible by it’s Beauty.
“Barcus, Mexico City is gone. Destroyed.” Stu said in his personal HUD. It was almost a whisper.
***
Kreiger was in the med-bay and as the scan began it quickly determined he was wearing body armor under his clothes.
“He has five broken ribs and a punctured lung.” Shaw said, “He was hit twice. Damn that is good armor.”
Barcus nodded and went up to the bridge.
Krieger’s eyes fluttered open. “You must be from the Ventura.” He whispered.
“How did you know?”
“We changed all the Ident codes. We are all running with cold HUDs.”
“A cold HUD can be proximity scanned.” He winced. “Where’s Jack?”
“I’m right here, sir.” Zimmerman stepped up.
“Tell this thing to give me the battlefield load of nanites and other drugs.” Kreiger said, “We are in deep shit, and I have not got time to worry about injuries.”
“Yes, sir,” Zimmerman replied.
Dr. Shaw watched him enter a control code she had never seen before. Screens flashed by and the bays arms r
eacted with a rapid almost violent motion. Kreiger’s arms were dragged above his head and restrained cruelly. His blood was fill with drugs, nanites, and supplemental red blood cells. The auto-doc began slashing him open. Broken ribs were aligned and splinted with screws far too quickly. Sprayed with specialized nanites and adhesives, he was closed up far to quickly.
When Shaw tried to step forward and slow the controls, she was stopped by Zimmerman with a blocking hand to her sternum.
“That is all wrong. There will be scarring and lasting issues.” She said pleading to Jack.
“I know,” He said in a tone she had never heard from him before. Kindness, “But he will be combat effective in five minutes. Soft tissue damage only. And this many nanites will fix that in no time.”
“Why the flood of persistent nanites?” She asked looking at the screen.
“He expects more injuries.”
***
“We’re returning to that salvage yard,” Po said stoically as Barcus sat in the seat to her right.
“Thanks.”
“This is the day that has been haunting you,” Po stated. It wasn’t a question.
He turned and looked at her then.
Her eyes were bright, alert and intense. Her forehead was creased. Her jaw muscles rippled as she returned his gaze. She was strong and fit and brilliant. His focus reduced to that moment. Her hair was wild, unbraidable since she cut it off in fury.
She stared back.
She was so alive. Right here, right now. Barcus wondered how this magnificent being was ever a weak, trembling, frightened, uncertain girl.
“Why are you smiling?” She asked.
Stu interrupted, “Oklahoma Salvage ahead. Twenty seconds.”
***
Dalton, Chancellor of Earth, held his finger on the button for minutes longer than he needed. He was seated in his opulent leather chair, in his grand audience chamber, in his private residence, on his private island called Calf, just south of the Isle of Man.
Solstice 31: The Solstice 31 Saga, Books 1,2,3 Page 97