Valor At Vauzlee

by DePrima, Thomas

  "You're right. We were waiting."

  Pretorious smiled smugly. He was really getting off on this little game, having been unable to ostentate his cleverness with anyone during the months of isolation. Jenetta still hadn't figured a way to jump him without getting shot, but was ready to take advantage of any opening that would get the pistol away from him. Her body, although appearing calm, was tensed like a coiled spring. But he had remained four meters away, far enough from her to make it impossible to reach him before he fired. He had only made one mistake so far; he hadn't made her drop the viewpad she was holding at her right side between thumb and forefinger. Perhaps he felt the small flat device, weighing only a few ounces, presented no danger. Jenetta needed a diversion and was considering what she might say that would allow her to use her hands for expression. She could then flip the viewpad away from her in the hope that Pretorious' eyes would be distracted long enough for her to make her move. She remembered reading something in an old detective novel when she was small. The protagonist had deliberately flipped away a lit cigarette. After subduing the killer, he'd told an associate that it was almost impossible for most people not to follow the burning tobacco embers to the ground with their eyes. Maybe the same would be true with the viewpad.

  "How did you get food?" she asked.

  "I snuck out each day after the third watch had started and ate in one of the mess halls. I even made a few friends from the second watch who would be having dinner each morning when I came in; just so that I could keep abreast of the news. Then it was back to my quarters after I had eaten, to relax and wait until today."

  "Why today?"

  "We're almost to Higgins. According to the scuttlebutt, you'll probably be returning to the Prometheus once we get there. Too many people aboard the Prometheus know my face. I'd never be able to get near you, as I have here. This might be my last chance to earn a fat fee for doing what I was willing to do for free."

  "A fee?"

  "The million credits I've been promised for killing you."

  "I had no idea my death was so important to your Raider bosses."

  "You've cost them a great deal of money. They want to make sure you don't have a chance to do it again. The bounty on your head is one of the highest they've ever offered. Even higher than for most heads of state we've assassinated."

  "You've been in our brigs since Raider-One was destroyed. How could you possibly know what they're offering?"

  "Simple. Until you blocked all outgoing com traffic on the morning we departed for Higgins, I was in touch with them through coded personal transmissions. My messages went out with the other personal communications from the ship. I've been promised a full captaincy when I get back. I'm getting the next available warship."

  "Congratulations. How did you get into my quarters, by the way?"

  "I got the idea while I was mucking around in your laundry bot program. I learned when laundry deliveries were made to the officers on Deck A, then simply followed a bot in when it came to bring you clean towels. I made a promise to you once and I had to keep it. The fee that the company is offering simply made it imperative that I not leave until our business is conclud…"

  The door annunciator system, announcing Lieutenant Ashraf's presence outside the door, interrupted Pretorious. As his head turned towards the corridor door, Jenetta was temporarily excluded from his main vision.

  She knew it was time to act. His eyes would be off her for only a second. Although any movement might be perceived in his peripheral vision, this might be her best opportunity; her only opportunity. Instead of using the viewpad for a distraction, she decided that it could best serve as a weapon. In an instant, her right arm swung backwards than came forward again with all the power she could put into it. With a snap of her wrist, she released the viewpad. The quick fluid movement sent it spinning vertically toward Pretorious' head. The thin, rigid, twenty-six-centimeter square device sliced through the air like a Shuriken, a martial arts throwing weapon most often in the shape of a star with sharpened points.

  Her movement did catch Pretorious' attention, and his face and eyes turned back towards her just in time for the spinning viewpad to impact his nose and forehead. She'd timed it almost perfectly. Although she'd been aiming for his chin, this worked out better. His head snapped back in a reflexive action as the viewpad ricocheted off his face. A trickle of blood appeared almost immediately from a deep gash, while the spinning viewpad continued on over his head to ricochet off the overhead before knocking a ceramic vase off a wall shelf. The force with which the viewpad struck Pretorious' face so startled him that he momentarily relaxed his grip on the pistol.

  Jenetta started to move the instant she released the viewpad. She saw the pistol tumble towards the floor as she took her second step forward, but Pretorious recovered quickly and dropped as fast as gravity would allow. The sound made by the ceramic vase as it crashed to the floor was synchronized perfectly with the fall of the pistol and it imparted a surreal quality to the scene to hear that sound as the pistol bounced.

  Time seemed to slow down for Jenetta as she saw Pretorious drop to one knee and bend forward, extending his hand towards the still moving pistol as it skittered slightly away from him. She knew that he'd reach the pistol before she could. She also knew that Pretorious wouldn't waste any more time talking now that she had made her move. If he fumbled in the least while picking up the pistol, she could drive a fist into his face, but she couldn't depend on clumsiness. Her best chances lay with disorienting him from a kick to the head.

  On her third bounding step forward Jenetta landed with both feet together then launched herself with a powerful thrust of her legs while swinging her torso. The motion was a variation of a move she frequently used in kickboxing. More like an attack kick associated with tae kwon do, it caused her body to spin as it rose into the air. As she twisted, Pretorious got a grip on the pistol and began to rise. He looked up just in time to see her coming at him through the air. Though the Raiders operate as a paramilitary organization, they have no academy, and Pretorious was simply a bridge officer, without any formal training in unarmed combat. He could plan attacks on other vessels, and direct the fire of devastating weapons, but he wasn't prepared for a personal attack by someone trained in martial arts. Instead of relaxing and allowing himself to roll with the blow, as had happened with the viewpad because he hadn't had time to think about it, he foolishly stiffened, bracing himself in anticipation of the imminent contact.

  With all the force her powerful limb could administer, Jenetta's left leg snapped out and her foot made contact with the left side of his face just as Pretorious fired. His head was snapped violently sideways as he pulled the trigger. As his shot burned through her tunic, it seemed to Jenetta as if she had just kicked a tree and been kicked in return. She felt the shock of the kick from her toes to her hip, and the intense pain of the laser as the shot burned through her midriff.

  The sickening noise of snapping bones reached Pretorious' own ears first, but Jenetta heard also. Her forward momentum carried her into him, and he toppled backwards, crumpling instantly to the deck like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

  From atop him, Jenetta heard him gasping frantically for breath and knew that his neck had been broken from the force of her desperate action. The pistol had again fallen to the floor, but there was no urgent need to retrieve it now. She dragged herself slowly off Pretorious and knelt tiredly next to him. The stench of burnt flesh and smoldering cloth reached Jenetta's nostrils as both hands clutched at her midsection where she'd been shot.

  Using the security override code assigned to her as acting first officer, Lieutenant Ashraf opened the door and burst into the room.

  "Captain, is everything all right? I heard a crash…"

  Ashraf's eyes grew as wide as saucers and she stopped talking as she spotted the deflated body of Commander Pretorious lying on the floor. She immediately ordered the computer to raise the illumination in the room.

  "What's g
oing on, Captain?!" she asked anxiously.

  Through clenched teeth, Jenetta grunted, "Just a visit from an old friend, anxious to conclude our business." She winced from the pain of the wound as she struggled to get to her feet.

  Ashraf's eyes opened even wider when she spotted the burn hole in the center of Jenetta's tunic. She touched her Space Command ring and barked, "Emergency medical team to the Captain's quarters! Security to the Captain's quarters! Ashraf, out." Helping Jenetta to a nearby sofa, she said, "I was coming to tell you that Major Galont has discovered there's been an unauthorized use of guest quarters." Looking at the body on the floor, Lt. Ashraf asked, "Who is he, Captain?"

  "I suspect he's our unauthorized user of guest quarters. He's Commander Pretorious, a Raider officer whom I took prisoner when I commandeered the Prometheus for my escape from the Raider base. I suppose he was still harboring a grudge. He once told me that I was dead. He dropped by for a visit today to prove it to me." Deciding it was better that everyone not yet learn that Commander Kanes had released the potential assassin, she added, "He, uh, must have escaped from the Prometheus' brig during the battle and stolen a shuttle during the post-battle confusion."

  "He was in the brig on the Prometheus?"

  "Yes. He was the one who divulged the information about the Raider ambush on the Mawcett convoy."

  Four Marines, laser weapons at the ready, suddenly burst into the captain's quarters after using their security override command instead of waiting for someone inside to open the doors. They were just in time to hear Pretorious' last strangled gasp for breath, and see him expire. Lt. Commander O'Neil and a nurse followed them in as soon as the Marines determined that there was no imminent danger. As the doctor dropped to one knee in front of Jenetta and lifted her tunic and blouse to examine her wound, the nurse examined Pretorious. The nurse shook his head when Lt. Commander O'Neil, attending Jenetta, glanced over. He quickly tilted his head to one side to indicate the apparent cause of death.

  "The laser burned a hole through the skin and muscle across the front of your body, Captain," Lt. Commander O'Neil said. "It entered just above and slightly to the right of your navel, traveled through some twelve centimeters of abdominal muscle to your left, and exited, sealing the wound as quickly as it made it. The shot fortunately missed the stomach, and no other organs or major blood vessels appear to have been damaged. Once you've healed, you're going to have scars where the shot entered and exited, but they can be taken care of by cosmetic surgery. In the short term there'll be a considerable amount of pain from the muscle damage. I'll administer an anodyne, and the initial dosages will keep you off your feet for several days. Tomorrow we'll perform some tests to see what corrective surgery will be required."

  The door to the corridor opened again, and Marine Captain Galont hurried into the room. As he strode to where Jenetta was sitting, he glanced about the room. His eyes filled with horror when he saw the body on the floor.

  "This noncom, on the other hand," Lt. Commander O'Neil continued, while gesturing towards Pretorious, "wasn't so fortunate. He appears to have expired immediately, from a broken neck. Uh, shall we put his body into the hold we're using as a morgue freezer for the time being?"

  "No. I don't want that scum put in with our brave crewmen. He's not Space Command; he's a Raider officer wearing one of our uniforms as a disguise to get close enough to assassinate me."

  Marine Captain Galont, visibly startled by the news, yanked what appeared to be a small viewpad from a side pocket. He poked at the device's face lightly with his index finger a couple of times, then held it out towards the crumpled figure on the deck. Pulling it back to examine the display, he said, "That's confirmed, Captain. He has no ID chip, but he does have criminal identification marker tags in his body. He's identified as Levande Pretorious, aged 43. He was a Raider officer with the rank of Commander when he was captured on August 11th, 2267 by…" Galont looked up in surprise before continuing, "Ensign Jenetta Carver."

  "Just remove the uniform he's stolen, Doctor," Jenetta said, "and perform the mandated autopsy. Then stuff him into a body bag and put him— put him down in the Engineering locker where we store the spent deuterium canisters. It's cold enough in there that he won't start to stink."

  "I'll take care of it, Captain," Ashraf said, "as soon as the doctor is finished with the body."

  "Where's my steward?" Jenetta asked suddenly. "Where's Woodrow?"

  The Marines were immediately alert again in case there were other assassins hiding in the suite. They started with Jenetta's office and cleared each room. One rushed back out of the dining room and signaled urgently to Lt. Commander O'Neil, who jumped up and hurried into the dining room with Galont right behind him.

  Jenetta watched anxiously from her place on the sofa. After a few minutes, Galont emerged from the dining room door and walked to Jenetta.

  "They found him in the galley, Captain. The doctor says that he has a concussion, but believes that he'll survive. He's sent for a stretcher."

  "Thank God Pretorious didn't shoot him," Jenetta said, relieved.

  Two medical attendants arrived with an ‘oh gee' stretcher and in a matter of minutes whisked Woodrow off to the sickbay. The Marines finished searching the suite and returned to pick up Pretorious' body. They unceremoniously carried it out by the arms and legs, its head dangling slackly beneath the body.

  "Major Galont," Jenetta said, "you can terminate your search for Nichol's killer. Pretorious confessed to it. He did it to keep Nichols from alerting anyone to his presence aboard this ship. If you'll check the flight bay where Nichols was assigned, you'll find a shuttle registered to the Prometheus. That's how Pretorious got on board. He said that he's filled the shuttle with weapons stolen from an armory on the Delhi. He also confessed to being the saboteur causing all those computer related problems. I'll send you a copy of the full report on this incident when I've completed it."

  "Aye, Captain."

  Lt. Commander O'Neil returned to work on Jenetta after Woodrow was taken to the sick bay. He squirted an antibiotic solution into the cavity created by the laser, then sprayed a solution onto each end of the wound. The latter solvent instantly solidified into flexible bandages that sealed the openings. But when he attempted to administer the anodyne, she refused.

  "No painkillers, doctor. I can't afford to be less than fully alert right now."

  "Captain," Lt. Commander O'Neil said cogently, in his best doctor to patient voice, "while not life-threatening if treated properly, your injury is extremely serious. You won't be able to function properly because the pain will be a constant distraction for your attention. You must take this medication and appoint someone to function in your stead until you've begun to recover from this wound."

  "Doctor, this ship is scheduled to arrive at Higgins in a little over twenty-four hours. A Raider attack on the base is imminent. Perhaps even before we arrive. While I have the utmost confidence in my crew to handle this ship, I cannot afford to be napping while we fly into battle. I will be on the bridge, and I will not be impaired by drugs if we encounter the Raiders. You've said that my injury is not life-threatening. I can promise you that in six hours I will be substantially improved and capable of performing my duties. I'm a fast healer, and pain doesn't incapacitate me as it does most others."

  "As chief medical officer I have the authority to relieve you of duty and order you to bed, Captain."

  "And as captain of this ship I have the authority to remand anyone who interferes with the safety of this vessel or its crew, to a bed in the brig; even chief medical officers." Softening her expression and the tone of her voice, Jenetta said, "If— tomorrow— I believe that my condition will prevent me from performing at one hundred percent, I'll relieve myself."

  Lt. Commander O'Neil grimaced, and then nodded. He knew that the best chance for the ship and crew, if they flew into battle, lay in having her in command on the bridge. "Very well, Captain."

  "Now if everyone will excuse me, I'll get a lit
tle rest."

  As the room cleared, Jenetta walked to her bedroom. Although the doctors at Space Command had tried to remove the mind conditioning she'd been subjected to while a prisoner of the Raiders, they hadn't been entirely successful. After a few minutes of severe pain, her DNA modified body had begun to produce a neurochemical that put her into a mildly euphoric state. She was actually feeling considerably better as she lay down on her bed. She was asleep almost instantly.

  * * *

  Marine Captain Galont returned to his quarters after leaving the captain. He flopped tiredly onto the soft comfort of the sofa in his sitting room and stared up at the overhead. He was a failure. He had failed to catch Nichols' killer, and now he had failed to protect his captain. It didn't even seem possible that she could have survived. Pretorious had a laser pistol and the element of surprise, while she was unarmed. She should be dead! It was a tribute to her fighting skills that the assassin was dead while she was still alive after walking into that ambush, even if she had been seriously wounded. When she was feeling better he would have to interview her so he could complete the report on the incident. Incident? It was a full blown disaster. For over a month Pretorious had the full run of the ship. He'd lived in a luxurious VIP suite and walked the decks with impunity, creating one ship-wide problem after another. And he never should have been able to get to into the captain's quarters.

  Space Command policy dictates that all warships have two permanent sentry posts on A Deck. One sentry is to be posted outside the captain's quarters, and the other is to be posted at the beginning of the corridor that leads to the bridge. That policy means that there are always two Space Marines between the captain and any potential assassins, except when he or she might leave A Deck. Captain Corriano had thought the rule ridiculous and ordered Maine Captain Galont to remove the sentry at his door. As ship's captain, the policy was within his power to alter. Marine Captain Galont had tried to convince him otherwise, but each attempt made Captain Corriano more intractable on the subject and he finally ordered that both sentries on the bridge deck be removed.