Steg understood Kirby wanted to join in the pending action, and the men in his small company reflected a similar attitude. It would be a bad news, good news situation if they were required to board the freighter. It would mean Major Fowler’s force had encountered serious opposition and possibly higher casualties than expected; however, it also would give his men an opportunity to demonstrate their readiness.
“The men have done well, Sergeant. Give them the rest of the day off,” suggested Steg. “They need a break. So do I, now I come to think of it.”
“Yes, sir.” The sergeant moved off to dismiss his men.
The company did not yet have a name, which Steg thought he would remedy before they saw action. He planned to arrange a company patch for the men to wear, to reinforce their identity and build morale.
Steg decided to venture to Wasp’s bridge to obtain an update of the starship’s status. He was anxious to discover when they would be close to the Xesset. The colonel had scheduled a readiness meeting for the following afternoon, and Steg wanted to be prepared.
Commander Gillespie was on shift. She and her bridge crew were relaxed, confident in their abilities and plans. According to their projections, Wasp was on course to make contact with the freighter and its escort in seventy-two hours.
“We’re ready,” confirmed the commander. “At least as ready as we can be. Monty’s been thorough, as always. I understand your data was helpful. Our primary strategy is straightforward: full stealth and when we’re in range, we attack. Of course, assuming the Xesset won’t be able to detect us.” She frowned.
“If they do?”
“We rely on Weapons. She’s been driving her team—she’s relentless—and for the last week her team’s been in war games heaven and so has she. The Xesset will have to be good. We’ll have surprise, stealth, training, plus a motivated crew.”
“The Xesset are good, I know. Monty’s tracking the freighter?”
“Yes, he’s using way station traffic messages to monitor its progress. Astro has confirmed our ETA against the freighter’s projected course, given our current speed. Her estimate is plus or minus five hours, and we’ll refine details tomorrow morning. I hear you’ve been training hard?”
“Setting an example for my company,” Steg acknowledged. He left the bridge and headed to the colonel’s office. There was no one in attendance, not even the duty sergeant. He decided to call it a night; he needed a shower and a good night’s sleep.
Steg placed Monty’s croacher-like construct in a drawer of the smaller of the two steel cabinets. He’d explained to the alien he didn’t plan to be available three shifts a day unless they were in action against an enemy. He’d also deferred the alien’s proposed communication implant; in his opinion, it was too invasive. He spent longer than usual enjoying the shower. He needed the heat to ease his muscle aches from training. He closed the fresher door and dried himself.
Now that’s odd, he thought. He was certain he’d left the main lights in his cabin switched on before taking his shower. He turned off the fresher light and felt his way across to his bed. When he sat on the edge of the mattress, he heard a stifled giggle. Intrigued, he felt around the bed and encountered a body under the bed covers. It wriggled. Steg turned on the small bedside light.
A Fain peered up at him, her eyes sparkling. It was Tessa, from the starship’s medical unit. Steg lifted the bed covers—she was naked. He lifted the bed covers higher and found a second Fain; she too was unclothed. He recognized her; she was Sara, also from the medical unit.
“What’s this?” he asked. “Are you expecting me to be ambushed again?”
“No,” Tessa said, giggling. “We decided to ambush you. Well, we wanted quiet time. All the mercenaries are preparing for action, and they tend to get over-excited. We’ll have some tired Fain, by tomorrow. We’re sheltering. If you don’t mind?”
“Of course not.” Steg edged himself into the bed. “If you promise no one’s coming after me with a scalpel. Move over.” There was a flurry of movement as the two Fain made room. “I do have a question, though. I’ve avoided getting one of Monty’s implants—what about you? Does he distribute his communication implants to Fain as well as to the officers?”
“No,” replied Tessa. “He isn’t interested in Fain. I don’t think he understands us, our abilities, our culture, or our potential. He hasn’t grasped quite what we are, and he thinks we’re not a factor in his machinations.”
“Good. Now, about this ambush …”
###
It started when he woke. His eyes were still closed. He stretched; somehow avoiding the collection of warm bodies snuggled around him. He was in a half-awake, half-asleep state, when the voices began. They were not real voices; rather they were streams of data, somehow vocalized or at least presented in a form that he could comprehend. He identified natural signals, planets chiming their measures of heat and cold, stars singing their siren songs as their gravitational pull drew in wandering meteors, and deep space navigation buoys and other waypoint markers transmitting their monotones, with voluminous streams of data, some coherent, some incoherent, some a mix of the two. Steg struggled to make sense of this dream state.
He focused on a stream of data that seemed to be heading straight towards him. It contained a series of data packets, which, he suspected, he could intercept and unravel. He reached for the closest packet and flowed with it as he unassembled its structure and contents. It was, Steg thought, like holding a tiny bird and feeling its heartbeat, slightly accelerated, not with fear but with an urgency to complete its errand. The data contained a detailed message from the planetary authorities on Eo 3d, and it was addressed to Monty. He copied the contents and released the struggling package to complete its programmed journey. He read the message.
And sat up, wide-awake. He read the message again. It was not from Eo 3d. The subject matter was Eo 3d. The data source was one of the Xesset pirate ships. He cursed.
A Fain peered up at him. “Are you always this noisy when you wake up in the morning?” she asked.
It was Stacia, the scalpel-wielding Fain. Steg did not hide his surprise. “What? How did you get in here?”
“The others were needed in medical. There was a fight earlier this morning—no, none of your lot. A small number of broken bones, plus lots of cuts and bruises. Some of the cuts needed stitching. It was the end of my shift, so Finch and I swapped with Tessa and Sara.” A second Fain, whom he did not recognize but assumed she was Finch, raised her head, her eyes barely open, and said, “Shhh.” She closed her eyes and fell back to sleep.
“Stacia, I’ve an urgent matter to discuss with Colonel Attwood.” Steg kept his voice low. He started to get out of the bed.
The Fain held his arm, blocking his movement. “Oh, you wouldn’t know,” she said. “He’s with the Charion priestess, him and three of his officers and some of his men. She has a prayer room way in back of Wasp. They’ll still be under the influence of the soporific the priestess uses. You won’t get any sense out of them until this afternoon.”
Steg cursed silently. Charion was one of the religions followed by the Siccan War Merchants—a mainstay of the Charion philosophy assured reincarnation for any of her followers who fell in battle. Attwood had not mentioned the religion, and Steg had not expected the commander of the mercenaries to be out of action for most of a day preceding their contact with the Xesset starships. He cursed again. Stacia stroked his arm. Steg asked, “What about Gillespie and her people?”
“They’re on duty, always ready for action. Don’t expect to have any coherent conversation with Attwood, Fowler, or their two top sergeants until later today.” Stacia must have recognized the concern in Steg’s expression. “Is there anything we can do?”
“No, it’s something I need to pursue, at least for now. I’ll let you know if I need your help. Go back to sleep.”
Before he left his cabin, Steg comlinked with Sergeant Kirby. He gave the sergeant instructions to assemble their compa
ny in the briefing room that they had taken over as a war room. It was next to a command deck containing a fully functional copy of Wasp’s bridge. He gave Kirby an hour to ready the men; he needed breakfast before his day deteriorated any further. He left Monty’s communication insect in its steel drawer.
Steg sat alone while he was eating his meal, reflecting on his detection of data flows. He realized, with a sudden shock, more of his missing memories were now complete. The therapist on the hospital ship had said he needed to relax, to stop stressing, and he assumed his night with the two Fain had achieved the needed relaxation. He smiled to himself, distracted for a moment. He focused back on his current situation. The alien cephalopod was in communication with the Xesset, he was certain. The message he had intercepted was part of an ongoing exchange, and the contents indicated the conversation had been conducted for some time.
He was trying to pursue multiple strands of thought, all elusive, and he was getting nowhere. First, he wanted to return to Homeworld. It now was obvious to him that he had somehow triggered a time shift as he entered the portal after the Lady Gaetja had, in a fit of revenge, attacked him. The blast from her weapon had hit and burned across his head. He remembered the blinding pain and not much else as he stepped into the portal on Homeworld, his home planet.
His problem was simple to state and difficult to resolve—he needed to access a portal to attempt his return. The difficulty was that most portals—a hundred or so—were located on Imperial Fleet starships, mainly large destroyers and even larger dreadnoughts. Other portals, perhaps no more than ten or so, if his recollection was correct, were located on planets; one was on Homeworld—others he knew of were on Jochum, Jochum II, and Aluta. To compound the problem, he was a fugitive, unlikely to obtain access to any portal except those on Homeworld or in the Jochum system—both distant from his current location.
The second strand was the imminent confrontation with Xesset starships and the apparent betrayal by Monty. Survival of his men—of the starship, its crew, and the marine force—would depend on him.
Steg reached out, attempting to access the computers in the alien’s watery world. He sensed Wasp’s systems; they were within reach, his awareness of them forming in the back of his mind. To his disappointment, his access to Monty’s systems was limited and he reached only as far as the alien’s external communication system. He re-programmed the comms equipment to hide messages until he released them, whether Monty was the sender or recipient. It was a temporary measure that he could keep in place until he determined how to respond to the danger posed by the alien. When anyone ran diagnostics on the system, it would appear to be a program glitch combined with hardware failure, which in theory would take days to repair.
He decided the officers’ mess was not the appropriate location for his endeavors and ceased his efforts. He would try again, later, perhaps from his cabin, to access Monty’s computers.
It was almost time for his meeting with Sergeant Kirby and his men. He had not progressed his intention to name the company. He shrugged; he doubted Attwood would complain if he decided on a name without consultation.
*****
Chapter 14
Kirby called the company to attention. Steg stood next to him on a raised dais and looked at the faces watching him.
Steg said, “Please take a seat.” He continued after the noise and movement settled. “I won’t keep you for long. We lack a company name, so I’ve made a unilateral decision: welcome to Ebony Company. If anyone has suggestions for badges, discuss them with Sergeant Kirby. For the moment, I want you to wear a black band, right arm, for quick identification. Later, we’ll arrange exo-armor markings. Now to the real business of the meeting.”
“Listen up.” Kirby’s voice shut off the side conversations.
Steg continued, “I must caution you. The upcoming confrontation with the alien pirate ships will be a significant challenge for Colonel Attwood’s mercenaries. I’ve had some experience with the Xesset—I was part of an Imperial force that boarded a Xesset starship, and we barely survived. They are ferocious fighters and they don’t take prisoners. They’ll kill you without a second thought. I expect they’ll attempt to capture Wasp, so be prepared; we will be attacked. Sergeant Kirby will inform you when to armor up. Please understand, you all will be at risk from the moment we make contact until we destroy these alien starships and control the freighter, this Djamu. Questions?”
“Sir, if we see action, will we be paid?”
Steg silently wondered at the priorities of the members of his new company. “Yes. We’re in reserve to either protect Wasp or attack the freighter. There’ll be plenty of opportunities to get yourselves into trouble. Under your contract, if we engage with the enemy, we participate in the bonuses. Anyone else?” He waited a moment but to his surprise no one raised any other question. He turned to Kirby and said, “You can dismiss the men, Sergeant.”
Steg asked Kirby to remain behind when his men left the room. Steg said, “Sergeant, our security may be compromised. I want a bodyguard for me, consisting of two marines From Ebony Company operating in three or four shifts. They need to protect my back until we complete this engagement with the Xesset.”
Kirby’s expression didn’t alter. “Yes, sir. I’ll arrange the first shift to report to you in fifteen minutes.”
“Good. Have them meet me at the entrance to the bridge. I want them prepared to anticipate anything. The subsequent shifts should wear exo-armor.”
Steg waited until his two bodyguards arrived before entering the bridge. He knew the men and had seen them in training—they were fit and capable. He acknowledged their presence and said, “We may experience some security problems over the next two or three days. I want to be able to function without needing to watch my back. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” The replies were in unison.
“Good. Accompany me. Do not intrude. Your responsibility is to protect me, so only act if you think my safety’s at risk.”
Again the reply was affirmative and in unison.
Steg keyed open the door to the bridge. Commander Gillespie was on duty, working with her Systems chief; they appeared to be in the middle of a difficult problem. He stood patiently until Gillespie looked up from her monitor. She said, “Monty claims his damned communications are down. He sent a message via one of his bugs. We can’t find anything wrong.”
“Commander, I need five minutes of your time and a workstation.”
“Yes?” She was annoyed at his interruption. “Now?”
“As soon as you can. It’s urgent.”
“Very well.” She directed the Systems chief to continue with her task and moved to a vacant workstation. She inspected Steg’s two companions, frowned, and turned to the workstation. She made no comment about his escort. “What do you want?”
Steg entered commands on the workstation and relayed the key Xesset message to the display. “Earlier today I intercepted this message. Please read it.”
The commander read aloud from the display. “We confirm receipt of your modified offer, reference 3101. You have undertaken to assist us to defeat the mercenaries carried by Wasp. You have offered to transfer to us copies of the designs of all weapons and shields installed on the starship. On successful conclusion of our engagement with the mercenary force, in consideration of your assistance, we agree the starship will be transferred to your control. We confirm we have transmitted by authenticated message a copy of the executed contract to Adsin Bank Head Office, Dir System, and agree to their arbitration if needed, under Dir Commercial Code. Copy of Adsin Bank communication confirming this is attached.”
The starship’s captain re-read the displayed text and cursed. She read it a third time. She checked the header metadata. She raised her head and stared at Steg. “How—where did you get this?”
He shrugged. “It’s the content that matters, not where I got it from. I recommend we keep Monty fully isolated, at least until we sort this out.”
&nbs
p; “The colonel won’t like you doing this,” she cautioned.
“He’s otherwise occupied, I understand. Until he’s back on duty, I’m asking you to support me.”
“Hmm. Is this all you’ve got? The message could be forged, or a diversion? Why would he betray us?” Gillespie wanted to ensure she was not at risk from some wild idea created by the new mercenary captain.
“Yes, it’s all I have at the moment,” Steg admitted. “I’ll provide you with more, later today. I believe the message is genuine. The header metadata and authentication codes are included, and they check out as genuine. You can get your Systems people to verify the meta-structure. The contents are clear. He gets the ship; that’s motive enough.”
Gillespie shook her head. “Unbelievable. Why did they transmit this in the clear?
“This is a directed signal; in theory, it can’t be intercepted.” Most inter-system and starship messages were directed to specific communication destinations, ensuring messages were received and electronically processed only by the intended addressees. Unauthorized interception typically resulted in garbled data, unless the interceptor was military with high-powered processing support.
“You managed to intercept it?” The commander raised her eyebrow.
“I’ve some techniques available for this type of situation.” He knew any attempt to explain his abilities would create more problems, and he hurried on. “If I may make a suggestion?”
“Yes?”
“I think everything Monty has provided about the Xesset starships—their existence, location, course, even details of the freighter—will prove to be misleading. The freighter may not even exist, or may not be in this region. We must verify everything he’s told us. This is urgent. Can your people commence the task? Instead of working on Monty’s problems?”
“I’ll issue instructions. What are you planning?”
“I want to uncover more data to provide to you, and later, to Colonel Attwood. Also, I plan to meet with Monty. Once he gets wind of what we’re doing, he’ll act against me, you, anyone who’s able to stop him.”
Fracture Lines (The Glass Complex Book 2) Page 9