“Ah, yes, your black-ops little toy, this wonderful think tank of yours. Did you really think him qualified or were you looking more to have someone that you could more easily control?”
Dimmings straightened and then sat back to a more comfortable position. “His appointment was approved by your office, Mr. President,” he noted coolly.
President Alexander leaned against his desk facing General Dimmings. “And you will be sure to prove to me that such an oversight will not be an error, because if this all goes south, you will find yourself commanding a garbage vessel. I want results, and I don’t want a single event that might bring any tarnish to this administration. Do you follow me, soldier?”
Yorktown Crash Site
ISS Regalia
Haden was breathing heavily. The airlock was about to open propelling him out towards what he believed was a trap set by the Alliance. Haden wasn’t nervous about what he was to do, but rather he was unsure if his new crew was going to take their leave of him as soon as he left the airlock. He was completely at their mercy.
But he needed to know what this was that they were seeing. He couldn’t let it pass by. Adrianna stood closer to him were he to finish this. Her image showed to him on the other side.
Glancing up, he noticed that a red strobe had begun to flash. It meant that the air was about to be removed from the airlock. Going over himself once more, he breathed little more calmly. “No turning back now,” he whispered to himself.
“What was that, captain?” Trike asked over the com unit.
“Nothing,” answered Haden waving dismissively.
“You’re not nervous are you?” Trike quipped.
“I’m always nervous.”
After a few minutes, the air was completely drained from the airlock and the gravity was switched off. This was done before the hatch was opened to open space. Wasting any air could be the difference of life and death.
Air systems relied heavily on recycling the air currently contained in the ship and was labored to make any more as it took tremendous energy to do so. Stripping oxygen from spent carbon dioxide was found much easier with simple mechanical innovations mimicking photosynthesis in plants. Though many vessels kept reserve air supplies, it was easier to not waste.
Haden floated up, and then he anchored himself against the rear wall. He steadied himself ready to push off once the door was open. Small, pressurized air cylinders filled with inert waste gasses strapped to his suit would give him enough acceleration after he was clear of the ship. Any small engines or packs would produce radiation that would easily be differentiated from random debris. If it were otherwise, he could have easily gone to those methods.
Suddenly, he realized that he was breathing much more heavily than he thought. He didn’t have much air. It had to be used it sparingly as the smaller recycling units were not nearly as robust. He could exhaust the system before it could catch up.
The bay door began to open as a red strobe flashed more quickly and then burned a steady glow. Haden breathed in deep and pushed himself off.
“We’ll monitor your approach and circle to the other side. See you there, Captain,” Trike said as Haden floated to the outside of the airlock. “Radio contact will resume after you pass back into the safe zone.”
“Confirmed,” Haden said as he let go a small burst of air from a cylinder accelerating forward.
By his estimate, it would take nearly two hours to reach the source of the signals and then to the other side. Before he knew it, traces of the ship he just ejected from vanished. It was an odd feeling, one he never got over: how alone floating in space made him feel.
After a short amount of time, he came within visual range of what was causing the signals. It was as he suspected: three transponders set to be a trap to any larger vessels that came too close. None of it surprised him. “Where did they take you?” he whispered aloud, as if he were trying not to make noise. He felt now that he had wasted time rather than trusting his instincts. For the confirmation alone, it was justified.
The transponders were small, but designed to put out very strong radiation signals resembling full vessels. Haden let out a slight burst of air to ensure that he did not come close to them. Typically they would be rigged with explosives sensitive enough to detonate were something to come too close to them. Not wanting to take the chance that they weren’t, Haden drifted by them giving a wide berth. If he was being monitored, the slight change in course could offer up his presence.
He almost wished that it did draw attention though. Giving up his position could lure them there instead of him having to spend the effort looking.
As he passed, he wondered if the Regalia had made its way around to the other side.
The entire plan went off as predicted. Haden landed in the air lock with little incident aside from small periods of sleep as he became bored drifting in space.
“Where do you think they went?” Darren asked. Darren was one of the guys hired for engineering and maintenance on the Regalia. He was a spry young man with a penchant for anything mechanical. Haden disliked his attitude, but tolerated him nonetheless.
“They’re likely back in Alliance space,” Haden replied as the two men disassembled the suit.
“Do you want to try to find them?”
“No. I thought about it, and we’re changing plans. We’re going to get them to come to us. Take us in close enough to the transponders to raise their suspicion.”
Readying for departure
DASS Yorktown & DASS Tripoli
356Q was holding a small duffle bag as she transferred over to the Yorktown. She was the last of the skeleton crew to board the ship.
She walked slowly, deliberately through the corridors making her way to the bridge. There was not a lot of damage to the ship from the collision, and amazingly the ship functioned well. The single hull breach was the worst of it. Any subsequent damage was otherwise exceedingly easy to repair.
If she allowed herself, 356Q would be impressed with that ship. Despite the advanced portion of the Alliance that she operated under, the Yorktown was more sophisticated than she imagined.
When she finally reached the bridge, David was there performing final system checks before they departed the Tripoli. He looked up and frowned upon seeing 356Q enter. Despite her apparent liking of his presence, he could not find himself anything but disturbed by hers. “Are we ready to depart?” she asked aloud in her bland, emotionless voice.
David cringed enough that it caught her eye. The sound of her voice unnerved David easily. “In about 15 minutes,” he grunted as he tried to ignore her otherwise.
Wanting not to agitate Commander Hirl any further, and as she had no further use of being there, 356Q turned and left the bridge to find quarters. She would likely take the XO’s quarters despite not needing that much space, although it would give her sufficient room to exercise katas in private. A ship’s hold normally sufficed. Such places would draw considerable attention however. Operatives preferred not to have that attention.
The Yorktown was being taken to one of the ARDME research centers in close orbit around Neptune. It was an odd facility in that it was so far entrenched in the outer worlds. Established long before the Alliance lost its traction beyond Jupiter, they fought to keep it secret by limiting traffic to and from the facility. The proximity of its orbit to Neptune also shielded it and made it dangerous to navigate towards. Any ship that would see it would simply see a derelict station slowly losing orbital velocity as it tumbled to its death.
356Q was there to guide them with exact coordinates. Once there, most of the crew would be washed and returned to keep the location of the facility secret.
Washing was a process of killing nerve cells that carried information that was unwanted. It didn’t so much as completely eliminate a memory rather than make it foggy and impossible to fully recollect with any sufficient reason. It had been developed as a psychological treatment for trauma, the type of trauma that caused deep dysfuncti
on. Adopted and then perfected, the military took it into regular practice for secret-keeping.
356Q entered the quarters that she was taking over. She carried only a few articles of clothing, weapons, and a small sack. Each of the items were emptied meticulously from their place in her duffle and repurposed to their new locations.
When she finally reached it, she held the small sack closely for a moment. It was only about the size of a small coin purse and made of darkly tanned leather. The top was secured closed with a small string knotted tightly.
Examining it closely, 356Q breathed in deeply for a moment before setting it back into her duffle. She folded the duffle neatly then tucked it underneath the mattress pad on the bed.
Upon making sure that all of her items were secure, she went back to the bridge. The first thing that she saw was David and an ensign leaning over the sensor array.
“That is just odd,” the ensign said.
“It’s likely just debris,” Commander Hirl said dismissively. “I don’t see any reason to pursue it. That ship that had gotten close had turned around and left. I wouldn’t be concerned. They probably ejected their garbage.”
“It looked like it changed course,” the ensign insisted.
“Could’ve hit a gravity pocket. We do not need to concern ourselves with it,” an irritated Hirl insisted.
Curiously, 356Q approached them and leaned over to see what they were looking at. David felt his anxiety rise as soon as he realized who was behind him.
“Follow it,” she instructed.
“Why?” David said as he stood and turned to face her. “This is no reason to deviate from our assignment.”
Ignoring him, 356Q directed: “Turn on whatever stealth system still works and keep sensory distance.” 356Q further instructed as she then walked over and stood in front of navigation.
Commander Hirl breathed deeply before saying, “I thought that we were supposed to take this vessel to your facility? That is our objective,” he emphasized.
356Q said nothing, but rather began plotting out a course that followed the strange object floating by the decoys.
“The Tripoli and Eisenhower have broken formation and are heading on their course,” the communications officer said. “Captain Martinez wishes us Godspeed. Do you want to communicate any course change?”
David stood thinking about his options for a moment. He knew that the ultimate authority on the Yorktown was the operative, not himself. Even if he could pull rank, she would not listen to him as she was not beholden to such formalities. “No. Just wish him Godspeed in return, then break radio contact. Follow course to investigate this anomaly.” He found himself sounding authoritative in a way he never felt he could be. Despite this, he felt powerless in his new post.
“Should we activate stealth shielding?”
“Yes.”
Yorktown Crash Site
ISS Regalia
“Captain Rachid,” a voice came over a comm-link in Haden’s ear. “There is a small radiation echo that popped up within our sensor range. Doesn’t look like anything I’ve seen.”
Haden was shoveling a small bite of dried, processed beef into his mouth. The texture and taste was vomit inducing, but he still couldn’t resist the hunger that drove it on. It had been nearly a day since he had eaten last. “I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he mumbled into the communicator through the food in his mouth.
“I’d bet that would go well with some milk,” Olaph commented. At nearly 8 feet tall and a former farmer he towered over Haden.
“Well, the milk rebellions made that a little difficult to render now didn’t it,” Haden remarked dryly.
The Milk Rebellions were the start of the initial conflicts that drove the Alliance to abandon the Outlands. Milk eventually began to become short on supply and thusly sent the price soaring. It represented the waning power of the government and how it could not afford to control prices as effectively as it had tried.
“They took my parents’ farm from them after the rebellions accusing of being in the conspiracy to fix prices. My family didn’t own any cows. I was out on a trading run when they took my parents into custody.”
“The Alliance has a good way of making friends,” Haden quipped sympathetically as he finished the last bite of his meat and then sipped some water. He stood and walked out of the kitchen quarters and to the bridge.
“Where’s the readings?” he asked as he stepped close to the sensor array. Trike tapped a few commands into the array and the saved scan of the radiation popped in front of them. There was a slight smirk that came across Haden’s face. “Looks like we don’t have to go far.”
“What is it?” Trike asked, not at all knowing what he was looking at.
“Same ship I crashed into. They appear to have a radiation leak in their stealth shielding. Looks like they’re coming for us.”
“What’s the plan?” Trike inquired, concerned now at being pursued.
Haden thought for a moment. “Act natural. We’re going to see what they do. If I had to guess, some of the same operatives that killed everyone back at Rhea are on board that ship now. We can’t risk fighting them directly. We’ll see if we can lure them into our fight, make them show themselves so I can pick them off.”
“Where to then?”
“Uranus 13. I have an idea on how to find Adrianna and make some money along the way. Besides, I have a job that could stand being finished before I land myself in a bounty.”
Undisclosed Alliance Facility
Adrianna ducked behind a small desk on the station. She was nursing a wound on her leg. Unable to get the pistol away, she at least maimed the operative sufficiently enough to get to a temporary cover.
Though the station was exceedingly small, it had enough areas to hide if only for a few moments. Peaking around, she caught a momentary glimpse of the operative coming toward her. He didn’t see her, so she took the opportunity to ready herself to lunge at him.
Right then, a shot from the pistol rang clear in the station and a round blasted through the desk and pierced Adrianna through her arm. She screamed as she spun around from behind the desk kicking the charging operative ineffectively.
With one hand free, the operative grabbed Adrianna by her hair pulling her around trying to keep her off balance.
Ignoring the pain, Adrianna targeted the pistol and was able to get a grip on it. With the barrel of the pistol firmly in her hand, she began to grapple with the operative.
The pain was searing, distracting. Despite this, Adrianna was able to hold onto the pistol while still attacking. A few hard hits into the operative’s stomach and he dropped his hold on the pistol. Not wanting to lose it entirely though, he loosened his grip on Adrianna’s hair and instead went for her wrist. In a swift move, he then swept Adrianna’s legs out from under her and then slammed her hand that held the pistol against the ground.
The pistol bounced out and slid away as Adrianna was able to raise her knee into the operatives stomach with enough force the make him stumble and curl over, however briefly.
Both were now on their feet and facing each other, arms raised defensively. Adrianna could feel blood from the wounds trickling down her. The fluid felt cool against her skin despite its warmth. She tried to ignore the pain that was slowly building inside of her. She knew that she would need to tend to these wounds soon.
She remembered the lessons. Haden had helped her gain her confidence in hand-to-hand combat, an area she had been failing in continually. He taught her how to detect openings in an opponent’s defense. He showed her how to feign defense and allow her opponent’s attack be counterbalanced and become their downfall.
Again the operative attacked. This time Adrianna moved enough to throw off the attacker’s balance. His eyes widened in surprise as she landed a strong thrust with her forearm across the man’s throat sending him the ground choking.
Now calmed by the moment of safety she had, she stepped over to the pistol, picked it up, and then aimed
directly at the operative’s skull. “Initiation complete,” she whispered.
Alliance-Independent Territory Border
ISS Intrepid and DASS Washington
“Damage taken to the starboard hull!”
“Keep engines at full! We need to get to the debris field and hopefully we can lose them there!” the Intrepid’s captain yelled as he leaned over the sensors. The communications technician, his second mate, was injured a few minutes ago during one of the more heavy assaults. She was unconscious on the ground.
It was all a useless ploy. The ship pursuing them was a corvette class starship, much faster and more agile than their transport frigate. It would cut through the field with ease.
A message sounded through the com unit again. “This is the DASS Washington. This is the last warning. Power down your engines and prepare to be boarded. You are being placed under Alliance control.”
“How did they know what we are carrying?!” the pilot asked aloud.
“How the hell do you think they knew?” the captain responded.
Captain Constantine knew that they were in trouble. They were smuggling black-market mining equipment from an Alliance outpost to the Outlands. His ship, the Intrepid, had taken these runs countless times before. It was only a matter of time until he found himself running from an Alliance patrol. In fact, he wondered how he had avoided it to this point.
Another blast rattled the ship. It was the last warning shot. Constantine felt his skull rattle. He looked down next to him and wondered how he had allowed this to go on. He was thinking of surrendering. How could he sacrifice these lives?
“Jettison the cargo with charges, then prepare to surrender,” the captain instructed.
“What?!” the pilot responded surprised.
“We cannot outrun them. They have us outmatched. Get rid of the cargo so they cannot mark our suppliers and then power down.”
Awakening of a Predator (Gravity Book 2) Page 3