Starcruiser Polaris: He Never Died

by Richard Tongue

   Kowalski looked up, panic in the veteran’s eyes, and gasped, “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe!”

   “Medic!” Kani yelled, desperately calling for help. “Man down, medic!”

   A moment later, a figure pressed through the crowds, stuffing pills into his mouth, obviously the worse for wear from the night’s festivities, and dropped down by Kowalski’s side, pulling a diagnostic datapad out of his pocket and running the sensor node over the prone pilot, his face fixed in a scowl.

   “How much did he have to drink?”

   “Four bottles. Same as me. Same type of beer, in the same bar.”

   Looking up for a moment, the doctor ran the same scanner over Kani, and said, “Nothing wrong with you. We need to get this man to a medical facility right away, or he’s going to die.”

   “That bad?”

   “Gastric poison. Someone tried to kill him.” He looked at the readings again, and asked, “Was it you? This guy a traitor or something?”

   “This man is a veteran of a dozen fights against the Federation, doctor, as am I.”

   “It’s just that someone seems to have slipped you the antidote. Never mind. We can worry about that later. Give me a hand.”

   “Shouldn’t we call for someone?”

   “In all this?” he asked, waving his hand around. “By the time a medical team got through the crowd we’d be planning this man’s funeral.” He and Kani picked up the white-faced Kowalski, carrying him through the crowd, grateful for the low gravity, shouting for the mob to get out of the way. A pair of Polaris crewmen spotted them, pushed their way towards them and started to clear a path, shoving and kicking the revelers as necessary to speed their progress. Periodically, the doctor waved the scanner over Kowalski again, his face growing grimmer with each pass.

   “He’s getting worse, and quickly,” the doctor said. “Up ahead, and to the right. That’s my hospital.” Kani followed the man’s nod to a gray, three-level building, a red cross painted on one of the windows, with a pair of street walkers standing on either side of the doors. “I know it isn’t exactly the New Mayo Clinic, but it’s the best you’re going to find down here, and I’ve got the equipment to save this man’s life!”

   Nodding, Kani helped him carry Kowalski through the doors, the two crewmen following as he pushed his way into the doctor’s surgery, a bored-looking attendant jerking to life as they entered, instantly moving to activate a diagnostic bed.

   “Stomach pump, on the double,” the doctor demanded, “and we’ll need a saline drip. You get started on that while I fabricate the antidote. It’s a normal Federation drug, so we’ve probably got the coding on file somewhere.” Looking up at Kani, he said, “He a friend of yours?”

   “Yes.”

   “Get out of here if you want him to live. You can wait outside as long as you want. Coffee machine in the hall works on odd-numbered days, and I reckon you’ve got lucky. Take your friends with you. I’ll let you know as soon as I know something.”

   Nodding, Kani stepped into the anteroom, the two crewmen already sitting opposite him. He glanced at the doors of the surgery, took a deep breath, then pulled out his communicator, ready to contact the ship. He paused for a moment, shook his head, then walked over to the technicians.

   “Thanks for what you did back there,” he said. “If he lives, that will be a major factor.”

   “Our pleasure, sir,” one of them replied, his speech slightly slurred. Kani felt in his pockets again, and found a packet of sober pills, taking one and tossing the pack to the drunken crewman.

   “Take them, both of you. We’ve got work to do.”

   Trading glances for a second, the two men took their pills and followed him back out onto the street. Someone had tried to kill his friend, might even have been successful, and that someone had to be one of the people serving drinks in the bar. If he contact the ship, or local security, he couldn’t be sure that the murderer wouldn’t be forewarned about his intentions. He had to move quickly if he wanted to catch the would-be assassin.

   The three men rushed through the streets again, the crowd dispersing at last as they raced towards the bar. As he crossed over the road, there was a loud crack, and the building disappeared in an explosion, dust and debris flying everywhere as a column of fire and smoke rose into the sky, overhead sprinklers kicking in automatically to douse the flames in sheets of water. Kani stood, frozen in place, looking at the mass of debris where the bar had been just seconds before.

   “My God,” one of the crewmen said. “They got there first. Some of our people were in there.”

   Stepping forward, Kani said, “Nobody could have lived through that.” The crowd scattered in a moment as rescue teams raced into position, engineers quickly assessing any potential damage to the local environment. The explosion had been placed by an expert, at a yield that would destroy the building without breaching the dome.

   “Go help them out,” Kani ordered. “I’m going back to the infirmary. They’re about to have a lot more business.”

   “Yes, sir,” the technician replied. “Should I contact the ship?”

   “Do it, but no details, Spaceman. Just that there’s been an accident and medical relief is needed on the double. From what I’ve seen, our hospitals are probably a lot better than theirs.” He looked at the wreckage again, wanting to join the relief effort, but went back to the clinic instead, feeling for the concealed weapon in his sleeve, a relic of his days as an undercover Commonwealth operative. He walked back into the building, the lights dark, his worst suspicions confirmed. Kowalski was dead, lying on the floor, abandoned by the man who had claimed able to heal him.

   Kani dropped to his knees by the dead man, looked around the room, then reached for his communicator. Someone had killed his friend, hidden the evidence, and fled into the night. And one way or another, he was going to make sure that someone answered for his crime, and that the hopes of the dead pilot lived on, somehow.

   “Kani to Curtis, scramble code five,” he began. “Are you alone, sir?”

   “In my room. Why?”

   “We’ve got a problem, sir. I need to see you right away.”

   “What sort of problem?”

   “One of the delegates has been murdered.”

   There was a pause, and Curtis said, “Come on up.”

  Chapter 12

   Cordova looked at the devastation on the street, shaking her head as she saw rescue workers picking through the rubble, already knowing what they would find but determined to make the attempt anyway, hoping against hope that they might stumble across a survivor. None of the responders were wearing uniforms, only crude armbands emblazoned with the red cross to identify them, a symbol that had already been abused during the attack.

   Schmidt walked over to her, a grimace on her face, and said, “I’ve got three teams heading down here right now, and I sent Chief Vogel out to round up as many crewmen as he could find on leave. Though a few of the people already in there are ours. It’s a hell of a mess.” Turning to her, she said, “Deliberate?”

   “Had to be. And we’re going to have to find out how. We’ve already lost one of the delegates, and we’re going to need to get some sort of answer before the conference starts, or it might fall apart on the first day. The last thing we want is for all the factions to demand to bring their own security teams down here. The Final War would break out within twelve hours.”

   “Where the hell is local security?” Schmidt asked, before answering her own question. “ColSec down here didn’t switch sides, and they’re either dead or in hiding.”

   “The only murder they’re likely to be investigating any time soon is their own. Mind you, you’ve just identified our top suspect, though the list is pretty damned extensive.” Glancing at the officer, she asked, “Have you ever worked in investigation before?”

   “Nope.”

   “Any training in the la
w, criminal procedures?”

   “We took one semester in military law at the Academy, and I barely scraped through.”

   “Beautiful.” She pulled out a datapad, running a scanner over the debris, and said, “I’m picking up traces of Gar-X. Federation plastic explosive. Which doesn’t mean a damned thing. I’ve used that stuff myself. It isn’t hard to get hold of.”

   “I keep forgetting that you used to blow up buildings for a living. This must be strange to you, mustn’t it. Having to clean up messes like the ones you used to make.”

   Glaring at Schmidt, she replied, “I never attacked a civilian installation, Commander. I won’t pretend that no innocent parties ever died, but we did everything we possibly could to keep the collateral damage to a minimum. How about you? Your hands clean?”

   “Probably not,” the officer said, peering at the monitor. “Expert positioning. They really did a good job. Maximizing the damage to the bar, without causing any significant damage to the surrounding structure.” Gesturing at the roof, she added, “Fire suppression came on awfully quickly, as well. Most colonies I’ve been to have skimped on stuff like that, but they snapped on here in less than five seconds.”

   “Meaning you think someone might have been waiting to activate them? Or at least checked the systems to make sure they were working?”

   “Titan’s a valuable world by any standards, and if someone is playing power games down here, they won’t want to do any more damage than they can help.” Moving to the rubble, she walked over to the nearest figure, and asked, “What’s the count?”

   “Fifteen, so far,” the weary woman replied, her clothes covered in dust and dried blood. “Camera footage showed sixteen people inside at the time of the explosion. We’re going to keep going until we find the last one, no matter what.”

   “You’ve got footage of the bar before the explosion?” Cordova asked. “Can I see it?”

   “Why?”

   “We’re investigating the attack.”

   Frowning, the woman said, “You aren’t ColSec, are you?”

   “I’m Major Cordova. This is Commander Schmidt. We’re with the rebel fleet.”

   Nodding, she reached into her pocket, pulled out a datarod, and passed it to her, saying, “Knock yourself out, but you won’t find anything. We already ran it through once, trying to work out where the charges might have been placed, but we didn’t see a thing. And no evidence of deletion, either, but the system only works on a twelve-hour cycle.” Looking at the rubble, she continued, “Excuse me.”

   Cordova took the clip, plugged it into her datapad, and set it to scan, saying, “I’ve got a pretty comprehensive list of local ColSec operatives. If someone was in there at any point during the time of the recording, I should be able to track them down without much trouble.” With a shrug, she added, “It’s the best lead we’ve got.”

   “And the deceased?”

   “Poison in the stomach, but it might not have killed him. The concentration wasn’t strong enough. Presumably they’d expected him to go on a longer drinking binge, and they had to improvise. The so-called clinic Kani went to has been closed for years, lack of funding. Now they just store obsolete equipment. I took a look at the place before you arrived, ran a quick sweep, but they had a chance to clear their tracks well enough. We don’t really have the equipment for a proper forensic sweep, anyway.”

   Elbowing her in the side, Schmidt said, “Put your most diplomatic face on. Trouble.”

   Cordova turned to see a column of Commonwealth troops marching towards them, Commodore McKinnon in the lead, gesturing for her people to establish a perimeter. Cordova glanced at Schmidt, then walked towards her, datapad in hand.

   “Commodore, what are you doing?”

   “One of my officers has been murdered, Major. I should have thought that my actions would be both obvious and understandable. I intend to find out who killed Wing Commander Kowalski, and ensure that the murderer is brought to justice so that he may pay for his crimes.”

   “You have no jurisdiction here.”

   With a smile, McKinnon replied, “Who does? The local government has been overthrown, and I have written authorization from the delegate named to present Titan at the peace summit to take charge of any investigation.”

   “May I see that letter, please?” Schmidt asked, and McKinnon handed a datapad to her.

   “I will keep you informed at all stages, of course, but given that both of the people targeted were Commonwealth citizens, I’m sure you’ll agree that we should have primacy in any investigation undertaken here.”

   Schmidt turned to Cordova, and said, “It checks out, but as far as I’m aware, the local administration doesn’t have any authority to issue this. Technically, Titan is in a state of anarchy at the moment. There isn’t anyone in charge at all. Even the delegate was essentially self-appointed.”

   “Commodore,” Cordova replied, “I want your troops off the streets, right now.”

   “This is an active crime scene, and I must make sure the evidence is not contaminated.”

   “Right now this is a disaster site, with rescue efforts in progress. Or perhaps you want me to call of the search teams, and abandon any chance of finding a survivor.”

   Her eyes narrowing, McKinnon replied, “Major, one look at the rubble is enough to convince me that those people are wasting their time. They aren’t going to find anyone alive under all of that. Though I have no objection if they wish to continue to search, though I will make sure they are all questioned before they are permitted to leave.”

   “You have no authority here, Commodore, and certainly no right to stop and search citizens of Titan on the street. I can’t stop you launching an investigation, but I can promise you that if you attempt any action along the lines you have outlined, I will do everything in my power to prevent it.”

   “That sounds like a threat, Major.”

   “It is, Commodore. And a warning, as well. These people have fought for their freedom, and they aren’t simply going to sit back and hand all of that over to the first jack-booted thug that happens to walk along. I should hope that much is clear. Now send this goon squad of yours back to its kennels, and let us do our job.”

   “They will stay until I hear otherwise from a legally recognized authority.”

   Schmidt turned to Cordova, and quietly said, “We’re not going to win this one.”

   “We’re not going to lose it, either,” she replied, reaching for her pistol, drawing it in one swift move and pointing it square at McKinnon’s chest. “If any of your people had been worth a damn, I’d have been dead before my hand touched the butt of my pistol. The only possible purpose they can have is intimidation.” She raised her voice, and continued, “I will not tolerate any attempt on the part of the Commonwealth to impose its authority on Titan.”

   The rescue workers stopped, rose, and looked up, some of them reaching for the larger chunks of rubble as improvised weapons. On the street, a crowd was gathering, the Commonwealth troops drawing in, looking at each other nervously. They’d lost their advantage, and they knew it. The aftermath of the fighting on the surface had left thousands of weapons lying around, and most of them had fallen into the hands of people in the crowd.

   “Lower your weapon, Major,” McKinnon said. “You’ve made your point. Though I will be sure to report this to your senior officer.”

   “And what senior officer would that be, Commodore? We’re an anarchy at the moment, and my chain of command stops cold with me. You can run and complain to Commodore Curtis, but he’s the one who asked me to investigate, and right now he’s more concerned that someone tried to kill one of his senior officers. Don’t you think you ought to be doing something a little more constructive than bullying the local population?”

   Turning to the guards, she said, “Kelly, Brandt, remain. The rest of you, report to the embassy on the double and await further ord
ers.” Glaring at Cordova, she added, “This is not the end of the story, Major. I can’t help but suspect that this little demonstration is intended to conceal your involvement in this crime, and you’re certainly the leading expert in demolitions and terrorist activities on this world. You’ve just put yourself to the top of my list of suspects.” Without another word, she turned on her heels, and walked over to the rubble, her guards beginning to deploy a sensor network as the rescue teams returned to their labors.

   “That could have backfired if she’d called your bluff,” Schmidt said.

   “I wasn’t bluffing,” she replied.

   Turning to her with shock on her face, Schmidt replied, “You’re kidding.”

   Shaking her head, she said, “I always was bad at poker. Very easy to read. I can’t lie worth a damn, so I learned not to bother. If she’d pushed it a little further, I’d have pulled the trigger and lived with the consequences.” Looking around the dome, she said, “That’s just for starters, Commander. Everyone’s maneuvering for power, and we’ve elected to hold this little summit on the most valuable world in the known galaxy other than Earth itself. You can bet McKinnon would have established martial law if she could have got away with it. I’m going to have to warn the Commodore that she’s suborned the local representative. We’ll probably find his bank account somewhat more bloated than it was before.”

   “He’d sell out his people?”

   “Maybe for money, maybe for safety. If he has a family, getting out of a system that might soon be at war would seem like a good deal.” She looked at her datapad, and her eyes widened, saying, “Interesting. I think we have our lead.”

   “Who?”

   “An old informant named Murchison. Used to pass information to ColSec for us.”