Cosmic Thunder (Sentinels Saga Book 3)

by Linn Schwab

  From the corner of his eye, Jay noticed some movement, and turned his head to see Pogo heading his way. “Ahh, Pogo,” he said, “you’re here just in time to rescue us from a fascinating conversation about green beans.”

  When Pogo set his tray down and took a seat at the table, two armed crewmen positioned themselves a short distance behind him. This drew the attention of everyone in the room, resulting in a momentary uneasy silence.

  “So ... Pogo,” Thomas inquired seconds later, “what’s with the chaperones?”

  Pogo glanced over his shoulder at the two men. “I don’t know. Admiral Sands came to see me yesterday. Now I have armed guards following me everywhere I go. They won’t let me out of their sight for a minute. Do you think that means Admiral Sands doesn’t trust me?”

  Jay took another look at the crewmen and noticed they were watching everyone but Pogo. “I don’t think you understand what’s going on,” he said to Pogo. “Those men aren’t here because the admiral doesn’t trust you. They’re bodyguards.”

  Pogo gave Jay a look of confusion. “Bodyguards?” he said. “Why would I need bodyguards?”

  Jay frowned and shook his head. “I’m not sure. I guess it means the admiral thinks you’re worth protecting. He must be convinced you can crack that cipher for him.”

  “Speaking of which,” Thomas interrupted, “how is that going? Have you made any progress with it yet?”

  Pogo let out a weary sigh. “Not much. I’ve never come across one quite like it before. It’s put together more like a puzzle than a code. If it were more like a code, I think my chances would be better. I’ve never been all that good with puzzles.”

  “Well,” Jay said consolingly, “just keep giving it your best. Maybe a solution will turn up when you’re least expecting it.”

  Behind him, a serving tray crashed against the floor, startling everyone in the immediate vicinity. He turned around in time to see the bodyguards reach for their guns, then relax when they recognized the source of the noise. An embarrassed pilot stooped down to pick up his tray, but a voice across the room called out for him to leave it. “I got it, I got it,” an older man insisted, pulling a mop bucket along behind him. When Jay suddenly realized he recognized the voice, he broke into a grin and got up from his seat.

  “Karl, is that you?” Jay said to the man, greeting him with a warm handshake.

  “Well, what do you know,” he responded with a smile. “So you’re the Captain Beauregard they keep paging all the time.”

  “I didn’t know you were on this ship,” Jay said. “It’s good to see you again, old friend.” He gestured to get his squadron’s attention. “Hey fellas,” he said to them, “I’d like you to meet someone. Karl, this is Thomas, Angelo, Jason, and Pogo,” he said, pointing in turn to each of his companions. “And guys, this is Karl Millich. One of the smartest men you’ll ever meet.”

  A round of cordial hellos was exchanged.

  “I probably should’ve guessed you were here,” he said to Karl, then offered an explanation to the others at the table. “Commander Ingman likes to keep him around, on account of he’s a walking fountain of knowledge. He has one of those ... ohh, what’s the word for it again? Photogenic memories?”

  Karl let out a chuckle. “Photo–‌graphic, I think, is the term you’re looking for. But the proper term for it is eidetic memory. Though there’s never been any conclusive proof that they actually exist.”

  “He’s being modest,” Jay insisted to the others. “He remembers every trivial fact he’s ever heard. It’s all there inside his head just waiting to be recalled.”

  The sound of footsteps approaching caught everyone’s attention, and a line of fresh faces began filing in through the doorway.

  “Now who are all these guys,” Thomas wondered aloud.

  “New pilots,” Karl informed him. “I was told another wave of them just arrived from Earth.”

  As if responding right on cue, one of the new pilots stopped just inside the door and raised his arms up in a boastful gesture. “Everyone can relax now,” he announced to the room, “the Twelve Thirty–‌First is here to save the day. Just point us to where the action is, and Earth Proper is as good as ours.”

  Some of the crowd answered with sarcastic expressions of relief, or very slow trickles of condescending applause. Karl looked the pilot right in the face and said, “I see one thing hasn’t changed back on Earth. People are still butchering the English language.”

  The pilot gave him a puzzled look. “What?” he said defensively. “What did I say wrong?”

  Karl reached for his mop handle and looked down at the rations splattered on the floor. “Earth Proper would be the planet you just came from,” he said. “Not the one you came all the way out here to conquer.”

  The pilot just stared at him, quiet, confused, as if trying to decide what he should believe. “Alright, Pops,” he said, alluding to Karl’s age, “since you’re so smart, if the name of their planet isn’t Earth Proper, then why does everyone call it that in basic training?”

  “Because they’re lazy,” Karl declared. “Too lazy to pronounce the planet’s full name. That’s how you end up with butchered English. People are too lazy to pronounce things correctly, so the language degenerates over time.”

  Jay laughed, then said, “Now wait a minute, Karl. If I’m understanding you correctly, it sounds like you may know something even I’m not aware of. Just what is their planet’s full name?”

  Karl stopped mopping for a moment and leaned against the handle. “Well,” he said, “we don’t really know what they call their world. At least not that I’m aware of, anyway. But back when I went through basic training, we were instructed to refer to it as Earth Property.”

  “Earth Property!” Thomas exclaimed, his expression a mixture of revulsion and surprise. “How insulting is that!”

  “Yeah,” Angelo agreed, “no wonder those people hate our guts!”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about insulting them,” Karl said. “I doubt they even know what we call their planet. It’s been a long time since we’ve had any contact with them.” He pushed the mop handle forward and started cleaning again. The young pilot finally turned away and headed for the serving line, apparently conceding the contest of wits.

  Jay found himself dwelling on the most recent words spoken. It’s been a long time since we’ve had any contact with them. For some reason, they reminded him of a question he’d been seeking an answer to for years. “Karl,” he said after a moment of thought, “you’ve been out here longer than most of us. Tell me something. How did this war get started?”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Jay, but even I haven’t been out here that long.”

  “Oh, come on. I’m sure you must’ve heard something.”

  Karl sighed and leaned against his mop handle again. “All I know is, the first delegation to fly out here from Earth carried with them an official authorization to issue a formal declaration of war.”

  A few seconds of stunned silence followed, as looks of shock appeared on faces all around. “Www–‌What?” Thomas said, professing disbelief. “Are you telling me we’re the ones who started this war?”

  Karl answered him with an empty gaze that offered neither confirmation nor denial.

  “Are you sure about this?” Jay asked, desperate for some measure of clarification. “About the authorization from congress, I mean.” If this revelation turned out to be true, it could alter his perception of the war dramatically. He could no longer just assume that the conflict was justified, or that there was any moral grounds for attacking these people. The entire premise for the war could be called into question, leaving him adrift in a sea of self doubt, tormented by thoughts of all the lives he’d taken.

  “It’s a matter of public record,” Karl explained, then resumed mopping up the splattered mess on the floor.

  “How do you know that?” Thomas inquired, his voice uncharacteristically subdued.

  Karl paused and ges
tured toward a nearby computer terminal. “It’s in the archives. All you have to do is look.”

  HIDDEN MEANINGS 082

  When the shuttle arrived at Centaurus, Commander Michelson greeted Janine in the hangar.

  “Inspector Caruto?” the commander asked as Janine made her way down the boarding ramp.

  “Yes,” she answered. “Did you receive the message I sent you regarding Lieutenant Banks?”

  “I did,” Commander Michelson confirmed. “She’s waiting for you in the conference room on level twelve. Is there any reason why I shouldn’t be present while you’re questioning her?”

  “That won’t be necessary, Commander. There are no charges of improper conduct against her. I’m simply here to gather information about certain events which transpired on Volaris, prior to her reassignment here.”

  “Very well, then. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

  Janine thanked her and headed for the elevators. A moment later she arrived just outside the conference room. A single figure sat waiting under the lights, apparently quite nervous by the look on her face. “Lieutenant Banks?” Janine asked as she approached the girl.

  “Yes,” she answered, getting to her feet.

  Janine pulled out her archive interface and switched on the audio record function. “Just so you’re aware,” she informed the lieutenant, “I’ll be recording everything we say.”

  “What’s this all about?” she asked. “Am I in some kind of trouble?”

  “The way this works,” Janine explained to her, “is I ask the questions, and you provide the answers. Understand?”

  The lieutenant responded with a timid nod.

  “Good. For the record, state your current rank, full name, and academy unit designation.”

  The girl stared at the archive interface while she spoke. “Lieutenant Renee Banks, Tango 3, First Battalion, Four Q Ninety–‌Seven.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant. The reason I’m here is to determine what happened on Volaris just prior to Commander Stinson’s death.”

  Lieutenant Banks seemed suddenly alarmed and confused. “Commander Stinson is dead?” she asked.

  “You seem surprised,” Janine observed. “Didn’t anyone inform you when she died?”

  Renee gave a somber shake of her head. “No. Though I’m not sure why anyone would, actually. They usually only tell us what they think we need to know.”

  “Normally, yes,” Janine conceded. “But I thought that under the circumstances...” She left her statement dangling to see how Lieutenant Banks responded. It was a tactic she’d used to great effect in the past — attempting to lure a subject into speaking, and revealing information she might not have otherwise discovered.

  The tactic didn’t work, though. The lieutenant seemed lost. Apparently she was unaware of any special circumstances that would apply. If Commander Stinson had some sort of hidden motive for her actions, Lieutenant Banks was obviously not privy to the details.

  “Alright,” Janine said, “let me be direct, Lieutenant. Can you tell me why Commander Stinson was planning to abandon Volaris?”

  “What?” Renee said, looking even more puzzled than before.

  “Was that not her intention?” Janine inquired. “We have evidence that suggests she was planning something substantial. Can you give me any idea what she was thinking?”

  “No,” Renee answered. “I don’t know. What makes you think she was planning something?”

  “Our records suggest that before she died, she was systematically emptying the station of personnel, equipment, and supply reserves. Were you not aware that this was going on? Did you ever witness this type of activity in progress?”

  “I do remember she was transferring supplies, but there isn’t anything unusual about that. We move supplies from one station to another all the time, depending on which areas are seeing the most action.”

  “And what about the station’s main guns, Lieutenant? Do you have any idea where she might have been planning to send those?”

  Lieutenant Banks seemed horrified at the thought. “No,” she insisted, visibly upset. “Why would she take the station’s guns?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to determine, Lieutenant. Is there anything more that you can tell me? Anything the commander or anyone else might have said to you that could help us make some sense out of this?”

  The lieutenant’s gaze shifted as she searched through her memories, reaching for anything that might be of use. “No,” she said. “I can’t think of anything. I’m sorry, I...” She looked downward in dismay.

  “Alright,” Janine said, “I just have one more question for you. Did Commander Stinson ever mention the word Valgrind to you?”

  “Valgrind?” Renee said, looking Janine straight in the eyes.

  “Yes. Are you familiar with that word, Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, but ... not from Commander Stinson. It was Major Parsons who kept using the word Valgrind.”

  “Major Parsons. You’re sure of this?”

  “Positive.”

  Janine felt a sudden spark of hope. Perhaps she was finally getting somewhere. “Can you tell me where I might find Major Parsons, Lieutenant?”

  Renee winced, and reluctantly informed her, “She’s dead. She died shortly before I was transferred to Centaurus.”

  Janine closed her eyes and sighed in frustration. “Can you tell me exactly how she died?”

  Lieutenant Banks nodded and sat down in a chair. “It was very tragic,” she said.

  Janine followed her cue and sat down beside her.

  Renee continued, “I was actually with her when it happened. Or at least the start of it, anyway. One of our technicians suffered a nasty cut to her leg, so I helped her get to the infirmary. At one point while Major Parsons was cleaning Terry’s wound, a vial of something slipped out of her hand, and ended up underneath the examination table. I remember seeing her crouch down to retrieve it, and when she tried to stand up straight again, she hit the back of her head on the bottom of the table.

  “A first she just seemed a little shaken — like it was nothing more than a painful bump. But her hands were so unsteady after it happened I had to help her stitch up Terry’s leg. When we were done, the major said she felt dizzy, so she laid down on one of the beds for a while. After that I didn’t see her until the next day, and by then I could see she was getting worse.”

  “Worse in what way?” Janine asked.

  “Every way you can think of,” Renee said. “She could barely walk. Her arms were twitching. It was like she was losing control of her body, and her mind was slipping away from her. She had this frantic look in her eyes, like the whole station was going to implode at any moment. That’s when she started using that word. She kept repeating the same thing over and over. ‘Valgrind is coming, Valgrind is coming.’ But none of us knew what she was talking about. We tried everything we could think of to help her, but she just kept getting worse and worse. She finally died later on that evening, with Commander Stinson still sitting at her side. Her death left all of us devastated. The way she suffered was just horrible to watch. And it really tore the commander up inside. To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me Commander Stinson died of grief.”

  Janine swallowed to clear a lump from her throat and slowly pulled herself to her feet. “Thank you, Lieutenant. You’ve been most helpful. If you think of anything else I should know, don’t hesitate to notify Commander Michelson.” She switched off the recording function of her interface and took a few tentative steps toward the door.

  “Can I ask you something?” Renee called after her.

  Janine turned around to face her and nodded.

  “What does it mean? Valgrind. I never did find out why it was so important to her.”

  “It means ‘Gate to Valhalla,’” Janine informed her.

  “That does sound important.”

  “Yes. It does.”

  PERILOUS MANEUVERS 083

  Jay was
in the middle of his exercise routine when Commander Ingman caught up with him.

  “Captain Beauregard, I have a special mission for you. Finish your workout, then gather your squadron and meet me in the hangar at thirteen hundred hours.”

  “Yes, Commander. Dangerous assignment?”

  “Extremely.”

  When Jay and his squadron arrived at the hangar, their planes were already positioned for launch.

  “Gentlemen,” the commander greeted them, “the objective of this mission is as follows. You’re to return to the location of our most recent engagement, and attempt to retrieve an enemy fighter. Preferably one that’s still largely intact. We’re not interested in fragments, we want the avionics. So don’t waste any effort on wing tips or tail flaps.

  “To assist you,” he said, gesturing toward one of their planes, “we’ve added these harpoon–‌like devices to your fighters. Sink one of these into your target’s fuselage, and you should be able to drag it behind you — though obviously, there’s a great deal of risk involved. Stealth is going to be your greatest concern, so be careful to stay out of sight if you can. And don’t take any unnecessary chances. If it looks like the enemy knows you’re in the area, just turn around and get the hell out of there. Any questions?”

  Angelo raised his hand. “After we’ve speared an enemy fighter, is there a way for us to disengage the cable if hostile forces show up to give chase?”

  The commander nodded. “Yes there is. The operation of these devices is very straightforward. There are only three controls you need to be concerned with. Fire, spool, and jettison. Fire and jettison, I think, are fairly self explanatory. The spool button will allow you to reel the cable back in. That should make maneuvering a little less awkward.”

  “How soon do you want us to leave?” Jay asked, expressing a lack of enthusiasm for the mission.

  “As soon as you’re ready. Look, I realize this isn’t going to be easy, and it places you all in a great deal of danger. But believe me, if I wasn’t convinced of the importance, I would not be risking my best pilots on this mission.”