by M. R. Forbes
“Lieutenant Abigail Cage?” she said, her voice high and tight through the translator. Even their best software often had trouble with the clicks and clacks the Plixian used as speech.
“Yes, ma’am,” Abbey replied, recognizing the hardware on the uniform that covered Major Klixix’s segmented torso.
She recognized the inventory the officer was examining as well. It was the arms cache from Gradin that Sergeant Coli claimed had mysteriously vanished.
Her eyes darted over to the Sergeant as she began to put the pieces together. Coli and his platoon had planned on stealing the cache, and likely selling it on the black market themselves. It was a haul that would have made their retirement from the service very, very comfortable.
“Ma’am,” she said, relaxing at the thought.
The Major probably wanted to know what she knew about the situation. She wasn’t a snitch, but it didn’t look like she would have to be. Just the truth of the mission from her perspective would be more than enough.
“You are under derailment for the illegal removal of contraband weapons with the intent of sale,” Klixix said. “You will hand over your communicator and any weapons you may be carrying immediately. Then you will bracket the members of Fifth Platoon for proxilation.”
Abbey stared at the Major, her heart beginning to race. What? She was still as she replayed the words in her mind. The translator had fragged a few of them, but it was clear what Klixix meant. They believed she was involved in the theft?
“Ma’am, I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” she said.
“Protocol is clear in this matter,” Major Klixix said. “If there is a curious it will be regarded during due process.” She held out two of her four hands, composed of three long, narrow fingers and an opposable thumb.
Abbey reached up to the neckline of her utility uniform and unclasped the small, silver pin there, dropping the communication device into one of Klixix’s hands.
“I’m not armed,” she said.
There was nothing she could do about this. Not now. If they believed she had a part in any illegal activities, she had to believe there was a reason for it. One that she could help them straighten out. It was an inconvenience, nothing more.
Besides, if Breaker training had taught her anything, it was how to stay calm and composed in any circumstance.
Even the ones that were the least expected.
9
Lieutenant Erlan Krag eased his GRB forward, careful to maneuver around the debris instead of smacking into it. It was as essential that the evidence remained as unadulterated as possible, even while it was impossible to keep it all that way. The field was just too thick, the damage too complete.
“It’s hard to believe there used to be two stations here,” Lieutenant Jesop said. She was in the GRB a kilometer away, also picking through the wreckage.
He reached out with one of the ship’s articulating arms, gently catching a larger piece of detritus in it, rotating it over and catching a snap of it before pushing it into a container at the rear of the vessel. There was a reason the GRB were more affectionately called ‘grabbers.’
“It’s hard to believe the fragging Outworlders managed to get this far into Republic space without being blown to shit,” Krag replied.
He fixed his eyes further out in the field, where red and white painted GRBs were collecting bodies instead of evidence. There had been too many bodies. Way too many. Every time he thought about it or looked at the retrieval ships, he started to feel sick.
He was a native of Feru, the planet that Eagan Heavyworks had terraformed to help support the star dock and the ring station that orbited it. He had grown up with a view of the two stations in the sky, and as a lifeline to the colony they had been admired and revered. So had Mars Eagan. It was numbing to think that it was all gone. It was chilling to know that Mrs. Eagan was dead and that her legacy might die with her. As far as Erlan knew, the Director had little family. Just a Board who would likely wind up squabbling over what was left of the company.
If there was anything left to squabble over. Building two unstoppable starships and then allowing them to fall into enemy hands wasn’t exactly good for business. And if Eagan Heavyworks went out of business, Feru was surely going to suffer as well.
“What’s the count up to?” Jesop asked, her GRB crossing beyond his as she maneuvered toward a larger piece of debris.
“I’ve got ten, right now.”
“I mean the casualties.”
“Last I saw, it was over four thousand,” he said. “I heard Ensign Polk lost half his family.”
“I used to think space was beautiful,” she replied sadly. “It isn’t so beautiful today.”
Krag scanned the horizon. The debris stretched as far as he could see. Thousands of kilometers and still expanding. It wasn’t just the two stations. Fourteen Republic ships had been destroyed by the Fire and the Brimstone. Hundreds and hundreds of soldiers who he was certain hadn’t expected to die so far from the Fringe.
His mother always told him he needed to make the most of his life because death could come from anywhere at anytime. It had never been more true.
“GRB Squadron Alpha,” their commanding officer, Major Tow said. “We have communication from the Republic. They have ships inbound to assist with the investigation.”
“Roger,” Erlan said.
“Roger,” Jesop said. “It’ll be nice to get some help with this.”
It would take months to get operations on the planet back to whatever the new normal was going to be. The Republic investigators would no doubt want to scour whatever they could to get more information about specifically who was behind the attack, and even once that was done they had to get the debris away from orbit if they were going to get any resupply or traders in. While most modern ships had shielding to protect from space junk, it burned a lot of energy and tended to make their captains pissed to have to use.
“I’m thinking about quitting the militia and enlisting formally with the Republic,” Erlan said, the thought striking him suddenly.
“You want to leave Feru?”
“I want to see the bastards who did this pay.”
“So do I, but the colony needs us more than ever now, don’t you think? So many people lost so many people. I’d feel like I’m abandoning them.”
Erlan considered. “Maybe. I’m just not sure how to handle this. I can’t look out the viewport without feeling sick.”
“Me neither, but somebody has to do this. At least you aren’t collecting the corpses.”
He couldn’t argue with that. He had known a lot of the Heavyworks employees personally. A good portion of them would come down from the ring on off days, preferring the real outdoors to the constructs. Director Eagan even had a house overlooking the Feruvian Sea. To have to pick at their cold, lifeless bodies with an even colder metal arm? He didn’t envy the retrieval crews, who until today had only rarely needed to recover a body from the grip of the universe.
A reflection further out caught his attention. A piece of debris that was larger than anything else he had captured so far.
“I’m going to head out that way,” he said. “It looks like there might be a piece of the spire.”
“Roger,” Jesop said. “I see it. Do you want help with it?”
Erlan stared out at the reflective metal in the distance. “That might be a good idea. It looks big enough from here, and it’s a good two hundred klicks out.”
“Roger.”
The two GRBs turned and headed toward the debris, small puffs of air constantly correcting their course and skirting them around the other damage. Smaller bits of matter smacked against the ship’s shields, which in turn redirected it away from the hull or disintegrated it completely.
They approached their target slowly, watching it expand as they moved closer. They were halfway to it when it began to take on a more solid shape, changing from a lump of glimmering metal to something more defined.
Somethin
g intact.
“Feru Actual,” Erlan said, feeling his heartbeat increasing in tempo. “Do you read me?”
“I read you, GRB Three,” Major Tow said. “What’s your status?”
“Sir, GRB Four and me are investigating a piece of debris we eyeballed at three hundred klicks.” He paused, staring at the wreckage, confirming it was what he thought it was. “It appears to be the shuttle from Ring Station Feru. Sir, it appears to be undamaged.”
“Roger, GRB Three. Have you scanned it?”
“Not yet, sir. We’re approaching now.”
“I’m dispatching an EMS to you in support, just in case.”
“Yes, sir.”
Erlan brought his GRB closer to the shuttle, while an emergency medical ship navigated its way toward them through the field. When he was within ten kilometers, he activated his scanning equipment.
A red beam pierced the black, sweeping along the length of the shuttle. Diagnostic information began flowing back as the GRB floated parallel to the craft, locking into a synchronous rotation with it.
Erlan watched the data stream into the terminal at the front of the ship. A summary of the diagnostics appeared a moment later.
Power: online.
Gravity: online.
Life support: online.
Life signs detected: 1.
10
“What the frag did you do?” Abbey said, staring across the aisle at Sergeant Coli. “You told me the weapons were gone.”
Coli was ignoring her, the same way he had been since Major Klixix and the MPs had picked them up and pulled them from the Nova, transferring them to the planet Belis, to a semi-comfortable facility she had heard the military police refer to as “Purgatory.”
“Damn it, you hairy piece of shit; you’ve been pretending you can’t hear me for days. I want some fragging answers, and I want them now.”
She stood at the edge of her cell, wishing she could reach across to where the Curlatin was sitting less than three meters away.
“My tour is up in two months,” she said. “Two damned months. I’m going home to my daughter. Do you understand that? She’s waiting for me to come home.”
Coli didn’t reply. He continued staring at the ground, motionless.
Abbey stepped back, her entire body tense with her frustration. He wasn’t listening to her. Damn it; nobody was listening to her. Even Major Klixix hadn’t bothered to give her five minutes to hear her out during the six-day transfer.
“Frag. Why the hell did I volunteer for a job with your shit outfit?” she said, somewhat quietly.
“Hey, Lieutenant,” Private Illiard said from his cell a few rows down. “I get that you’re pissed, but I resent that accusation.”
“Did you take the emgees to sell them on the black market?” she said, turning to look at the soldier.
Illiard didn’t say anything. He wasn’t about to confess. His reply was a resigned shrug. It was as much of an admission of guilt as she needed.
“Then my statement stands,” she said.
She should have been back on the Nova by now. A quick round of questioning and the truth would set her free.
Wouldn’t it?
She had believed it at first, but now she was starting to have her doubts. They had been brought here with hardly a word, stuck into confinement together while they waited for what, exactly? How could the Republic be treating her this way? She had given almost twelve years of her life to them. She was one of their top Breakers. It didn’t make any sense.
She paced her cell, a four-meter square box with a mattress and a hatch in the rear that led to a private toilet. She could prove she was innocent. She had been trying to break the compound’s network while the Fifth had allegedly been loading up a hidden storage compartment in the dropship, and she had the timestamps to prove it. Only they wouldn’t let her prove it, despite her repeated requests. Guilty until proven innocent. She had already been judged by association, and it was driving her insane.
Sergeant Coli’s silence didn’t help. Every time she looked at him, she wanted to punch him in his teddy bear face.
The door at the end of the cell block slid open. Major Klixix scuttled in, her legs making a rapid clacking sound on the hard floor. She had another person behind her, a large man in a fancy suit. They both stopped in front of Abbey’s cell.
“Major,” Abbey said, coming to attention and saluting.
“At ease, Lieutenant,” Klixix replied. “This is Mr. Davis. He’s here to ask questions. Given your insistence that you had nothing to do with the attempted theft, he desires to speak to you forthwith.”
Abbey could feel the tension begin to drain. Finally!
“Mr. Davis,” Abbey said. “Thank you for coming.”
Davis stared at her with dark eyes and a flat expression. “Save your thanks, Lieutenant. Depending on how you answer my questions, you may not be grateful when we’re done.”
The chill returned to her as instantly as it had faded. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Klixix stepped on a small panel at the base of the cell, and the containment field around it dropped. Abbey stepped out, making sure to keep glaring at Coli. Not that he was going to look at her. The only thing worse than a criminal was a spineless criminal.
“Spot you later, Lieutenant,” Illiard said as Davis led her from the room.
An MP joined them on the other side of the door, following behind her as she trailed Davis away from the cells. Major Klixix didn’t join them, heading off down an adjacent corridor, probably back to her office.
“Mr. Davis,” Abbey said. “This whole thing has been a huge misunderstanding. I-”
Davis put his hand up without turning around. “I’ll ask the questions. You’ll answer them. Are we clear, Lieutenant?”
Some choice words filled Abbey’s head, but she decided to keep them to herself. Getting on the investigator's bad side wouldn’t help her cause any.
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
Davis brought her to a new room, with a small mirror, a simple table, and a chair. An interrogation room. Why? Did they really consider her a threat?
“Have a seat, Lieutenant,” Davis said, motioning to the chair.
She sat without argument. This wasn’t the time to lose her cool or to panic. Her training had taught her to stay calm in any circumstance. Of course, having the end of a gun pointed right at her face had been less unnerving than this. If she died in the line of duty, her daughter would get a nice dispensation, enough that she could get into any profession she wanted. If she was incarcerated? It would all go away. Everything she had worked for. Everything she had earned and saved. Gone.
Mr. Davis sat opposite her. He produced a folded mat from his pocket and then flattened it out on the table. A projection rose from it. She recognized the snap. She had taken it.
“The armaments in question,” Davis said. “You provided this image.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You gave it to Sergeant Coli?”
“No, sir. I offered it to him as evidence of the munitions cache. He told me he hadn’t seen a cache. I didn’t understand why at the time. Now I do.”
Davis looked considerate for a moment. Good. At least she was getting a chance to explain. They couldn’t pin anything on her. She hadn’t done anything.
“How did you come to be on the Nova, Lieutenant?” Davis asked.
“Standard HSOC procedure. My prior deployment ended, and after my week of rec time, I returned to the SpecNet to put in for a new deployment. I saw the Nova was asking for a Breaker for some work near the Fringe.”
“There were seven companies requesting a Breaker at the time. Why did you choose the Nova?”
Abbey didn’t answer right away. Her feelings on General Kett didn’t line up with most of the Republic. They wanted to scapegoat him for all of their failures. It was easier that way.
“I was looking for a detail that would put me in a dropship,” she replied. “If you look at my reco
rd, you’ll see I’m not the type of Breaker who wants to sit on a battleship and stare at a projection.”
Davis showed his first sign of emotion, cracking the smallest of smiles. “No, you aren’t, are you?” He waved his hand over the mat, bringing up her file and flipping through it. “Your dossier is impressive. Very impressive. Even so, Lieutenant, I have to wonder what your interest is in General Sylvan Kett?”
“What do you mean?” The question took her off guard, leaving her feeling defensive. They knew?
Davis touched the edge of the mat, and a new projection appeared. It looked like a recording of a session she had in a construct module.
“I’m telling you, Liv,” Abbey said on the recording, sitting a table with her sister in a fancy restaurant. “The Republic is looking the wrong way on this. Maybe Kett broke a few rules, but none of the evidence points to treason. Hell, his actions on Kyron saved an entire population center.”
“You recorded my construct session?” Abbey said, fighting harder to contain her anger. “That’s supposed to be confidential.”
“The Republic reserves the right to surveil the activities of any and all of its people at any time. Especially Breakers who are sympathizing with the enemy.”
“Sympathizing?” Abbey said, her ability to contain her anger vanishing as she stood up, violently pushing her chair back. “Sympathizing? A Breaker’s job is to unlock things. Doors, computers, networks, you name it. Oh, and the truth. That isn’t sympathy; that’s justice. That’s right.”
“Right, or righteousness, Lieutenant?” Davis said, remaining calm. “The Republic offers some degree of freedom to its highly specialized operatives. You get a choice to your work, unlike most of your fellow soldiers. We’ve found that it improves performance across the board, and keeps our best returning our investment in them for years to come. It seems, however, that you’ve decided to take advantage of that freedom to settle your own personal interests, namely in General Kett, an enemy of the Republic. Am I wrong?”