by C. J. Barry
"In a separate detention room. She has yet to regain consciousness. I decided to begin with you."
That phrase earned Grey's full attention. He watched with growing dismay as the Commander began to pace the small room, his hands still locked behind his back deep in thought. It dawned on Grey that the Commander was stalling. Why? Then Plass pulled out his laser pistol. Grey froze.
Then Plass dismissed the single guard, leaving them alone in the room. Grey wondered how fast he could reach Plass before he could pull the trigger. His head protested immediately. He needed more time to recover and he doubted he was going to get it.
Plass stood in the center of the room with the weapon pointed at Grey. “I have come a long way to capture the daughter of Jarid Faulkner. My men are very anxious to kill the last Faulkner."
Grey didn't say anything. The blood was pounding through his veins, clearing his head with amazing speed. He didn't like the direction of the conversation.
"Unfortunately, she is not our real enemy.” Plass stepped toward Grey. “Is she?"
Stunned, Grey stared Plass down for a few long moments. Then it hit him. He knew the reason why they were still alive. Equal parts of relief and anger rolled over him. Grey spat out through clenched teeth, “You know."
Plass said nothing, revealed nothing.
Grey stood to his full height, ignoring the pain it brought, ignoring the laser pistol pointed at him. He turned his back to Plass, trying to bring himself under control.
"You know about Tausek. You know about the shipment he sabotaged.” Grey swung around to face him, rage surfacing. “How long have you known?"
Plass remained calm. “I know nothing. I have suspicions. I am optimistic that you can supply me with additional information."
Grey narrowed his eyes at the man with combination of disgust and disbelief. “Let me get this straight. You want us to tell you what we know? Then what? Then you kill us? Then you destroy all the evidence we have and forget it once and for all? That bastard killed millions of people. Millions. He should rot for that."
Plass’ voice was quiet in contrast to Grey's angry words. “I agree."
It took Grey several heartbeats to recover. “You agree?” he hissed softly. “What kind of game are you playing?"
"No game,” Plass explained. “You are correct. If Tausek did destroy that shipment, I want him dead."
Grey laughed cynically and shook his head. “Forgive me if I don't believe you. I know how you d'Hont stick together."
"Yes. Especially when we've been betrayed."
Grey regarded his adversary warily. The eyes that met his never wavered, never flinched. “What about your crew? Don't they know the truth? Why do they still want Cidra dead?"
Plass sighed deeply. “They are a different matter. Tausek has hard core loyalty from the d'Hont, due mostly to the incident ten years ago. I need irrefutable evidence. And even then, it will be difficult to persuade them to turn against their leader.” Plass met Grey's eyes. “But I give you my word that I will do everything to bring Tausek to justice. It is not only your lives at stake here."
Grey absorbed the final statement. For the first time he realized Plass’ predicament. He was turning against his ruler—alone. He may be a d'Hont, but he had integrity and guts. A guarded respect surfaced as Grey struggled with the changing dynamics of the situation. His choices were severely limited.
"I want Cidra. In here. With me,” Grey demanded firmly. “Then I'll give you all the evidence you'll ever need."
Plass studied him for a few long moments and nodded once. “Acceptable.” He turned sharply toward the door.
* * * *
Ten minutes later one burly guard carried an unconscious Cidra into Grey's detention room, followed by Plass. After the guard deposited her on the bed and left the room, Grey gave her a cursory exam. To his immense relief, she appeared unharmed. Her breathing was deep and even.
"Why hasn't she regained consciousness yet?” Grey grilled Plass.
"She should be coming around shortly. Better to let her rest. She will awaken in less discomfort."
Grey stared at the Commander, not believing his ears. “Why do you care what happens to her?"
Plass met his eyes. “Because if Tausek is guilty, she is innocent."
"Her father was innocent, too."
"You said you have evidence,” Plass replied. “We don't have much time."
Grey nodded and looked down at Cidra. “I hope the K12 is intact."
"It is."
Grey gave Plass a hard sidelong glance. “Will she be safe here alone?"
"For now.” Plass waved his laser pistol toward the door. “After you."
* * * *
By the time Grey returned to his detention room, Cidra had begun to stir.
Alone at last, he slid onto the bed and gathered her into his arms. She sighed and burrowed her head into his shoulder, still firmly entrenched in her peaceful dream-like world.
Grey lay there wide-awake, stroking her hair. The trip back to the K12 had energized him. The little craft was in perfect condition, but the bay was indeed a mess. It gave him enormous satisfaction to watch the faces of the guards performing the repairs and clean up. Somehow he got the feeling they had learned a valuable lesson.
He chuckled softly recalling the amazement on Plass’ face when he had simply entered the K12 and yanked out the transport's active memory core. Plass’ guards had checked every square inch of the ship looking for evidence. They had recovered the vaccine shipment, but had missed the memory core. It never occurred to them that the K12's original core had been substituted by that of the downed transport on Courf.
Unfortunately, Grey never had a chance to view the contents of that memory core. He could only hope it contained the original file transfer of the Galena ambush. If the recording wasn't in the core, there was no hope for them. Even if his instincts held true and the recording existed, there was no guarantee that he or Cidra would live to see another day. All he had was Plass’ word. And a ship full of d'Hont who wanted Cidra dead.
He had given Plass the core and outlined the entire story from beginning to end. It was a desperate gamble, but Commander Plass was now their only shot at survival. All they could do was wait. It seemed ludicrous that their enemy should become their savior. Grey breathed in deeply and closed his eyes, trying to have faith in the Commander's conviction and his powers of persuasion.
Cidra shifted. Grey dropped soft kisses on her upturned face and down her throat. He slipped his fingers through her thick hair, inhaling the sweet scent of it. He would never get enough of her. Never. Just the thought of holding her for the rest of his life sent passion raging through him. Heat only Cidra could bring forth.
She stirred against him, the length of her body melting into his. With deep kisses, he drew her back to consciousness. She blossomed under his hands, waking fully aroused and ready.
Cidra moaned softly against his mouth and murmured, “Where?"
Grey smiled. Her complete trust amazed and humbled him. She didn't ask about her safety, didn't worry about her situation, didn't even open her eyes. He didn't want to yank her out of her sensual awakening by telling her how dire the situation really was. “Safe."
She slid her arms around his neck, searching and finding his mouth with her own. Grey shifted on top of her, parting her legs with his thighs and settling himself there. He loved the way she felt under him, the way her form fit perfectly to his, the way the fire built between them. His kisses were soft and gentle, lingering and long. With a single movement she arched against him and shot his slow, easy pace all to hell.
Grey thought about the guards standing outside, about Plass’ imminent meeting and a very possible interruption of their lovemaking. Then he shook it off and ground his hips into her. He couldn't think of any other place he'd rather be.
* * * *
The situation was critical. His life was in the balance. The future of the d'Hont was in jeopardy. He was about to change
history forever. Plass couldn't be happier.
His executive quarters brimmed with Expunger's highest-ranking personnel. Majors Holtz and Berman were seated on either side of him at the large holo deck table along with Lieutenant Fiske who was operating the holo deck controls on the opposite side. In a semi-circle behind them, stood eight junior officers in charge of Expunger's various systems. They had all been briefed on Plass’ suspicions of Tausek and the amazing scenario of events that began with the Avion shipment and ended with the recovery of the memory core and missing vaccine.
Plass knew that not a single crew member in this room believed the account. What he proposed would shake the fundamental goals and foundation of the d'Hont. A foundation built on hate and revenge, on the resolution to never again be vulnerable. The wreckage of the past united the d'Hont into the force they were today. Changing that past meant changing the present and the future.
Even now, Plass felt the skeptical and caustic looks aimed his way. The transition would be painful for them, he mused, but he would thoroughly enjoy watching them convert one at a time.
He had already viewed the holo recording several times with Lieutenant Fiske. It was more than he had expected, more than he could possibly have hoped for. Any doubts were crushed. The truth screamed out with a vengeance.
The room lights darkened for the holo deck presentation. The holo grid in the center of the table shed a ghostly light on the men seated nearby. Major Berman's big arms were folded across his chest, his expression belligerent. Major Holtz sat ramrod straight, his hands folded neatly on the table. He watched Lieutenant Fiske intently.
"We are ready, sir,” Lieutenant Fiske reported.
Plass leaned back leisurely in his chair. “Run it, Lieutenant.” He smiled in the darkness.
The holo grid sprang to life and began revealing the demise of the Galena. All eyes were instantly glued to the action, transfixed in surprise and confusion. Lieutenant Fiske stated the star date and star map coordinates as the Saurelian fighters faithfully performed their death dance. Each officer watched in rapt fascination, grappling with the truth of his or her own eyes.
Plass could almost hear every breath taken. He let the action run for some time and casually turned to Major Berman seated to his right. “Look familiar, Major?"
Major Berman leaned forward and frowned. “That's us. And that's the refugee ship we destroyed ten years ago."
Lieutenant Fiske shook his head. “Not according to the holo recording stats. That's the Galena loaded with vaccine bound for Dakru."
All eyes turned to Major Berman. He stared at the holo image, looking for support of his innocence. Another Kin-sha escort blew up. The holo recording didn't oblige. Plass watched the heat of anger rise in the Major's face, burning and boiling below the surface.
"No!” Berman snapped. “It's a fake. It has to be."
Lieutenant Fiske replied calmly, “Not possible. The ship signature matches the Universal Craft Identification database. This is the Galena."
The battle unfolded, taking its fateful place in history. Plass gazed around the room at the faces. They were drawn out, shocked, and speechless. Just the way he wanted them. He turned back to the action with mundane interest. “Your forces were certainly efficient, Major Berman."
Plass watched Berman's expression as the Major relived the event that sealed the fate of millions of Dakruians. His forehead glistened with sweat, his breathing increased. He was the only one in the room who knew the ending to this incident. As it drew nearer, the pain in his face grew.
Lieutenant Fiske continued his commentary of the action, blow by blow to its inevitable conclusion. He had enhanced the transport escape path for easy viewing. There was a collective gasp as the transport hit hyperspace a split-second before the holo image died away.
The room was heavy with silence. All eyes remained on the holo deck as if hoping, praying for a different ending. The lights came up. Plass stood slowly and walked to the viewport, fully aware that all attention automatically turned to him.
"You have the entire truth,” Plass said as he stared into the star-studded universe. “Questions."
Major Berman was the first to break the silence. His voice was raw with emotion. “Can you prove that was the original shipment?"
"The date matches the approximate delivery window for the vaccine order,” Plass replied calmly. “The exact ship date was purged from our information systems by Tausek to cover up the incident. Captain Stone has offered to verify the dates by infiltrating the Avion archives and securing the contractual agreement. I'm certain the delivery schedule will concur. The serial numbers on the vials of vaccine that Captain Stone retrieved from the transport on Courf match the Galena's manifest. Next question."
"How did the Stone find the missing transport after all this time?” Major Holtz asked.
"Apparently, Captain Stone has many talents besides evading capture. Next question."
"Why now? Why did it take so long for this to come out?” the officer in charge of the medical facilities asked.
Commander Plass replied, “For ten years Cidra Faulkner lived with Syrus Almazan, a friend of Jarid Faulkner's. Almazan kept the holo recording and the information hidden. Shortly after his death, Captain Stone took Cidra Faulkner and the evidence off Avion. I don't know why Almazan didn't pursue it sooner. Next question."
Plass answered every question patiently, cutting away the resistance and chipping away the doubt until the truth stood alone. Eventually the questions ceased, replaced by acceptance and anger.
Major Berman buried his head in his hands. “This is ludicrous. I can't believe Tausek would betray us. I can't believe he would kill millions simply to become the ruler of Dakru."
"Believe it, Major,” Plass replied matter-of-factly. “We have been lied to and used. Our lives manipulated. Our families sacrificed. Our world devastated. Can you think of anyone else who had the power and motive to do this?"
There was an agreeable silence. Then the murmurs began, getting louder as the officers began to turn against Tausek one by one.
Plass waited until the increasing anger was palpable. Now he could harness that rage and use it against the traitor. He turned around to face the group. “We have a decision to make. I will not make it for you."
Major Holtz said it first. “Tausek must pay."
The agreement was unanimous and enthusiastic. Even Major Berman conceded. Plass surmised the burly Major would be his strongest supporter.
"How are we going to apprehend him?” asked Major Holtz.
"I would recommend a decisive and lethal assault on his main tower chambers,” the female Chief Battle Station officer voiced bitterly.
Plass shook his head. “It won't be that easy. My sources on Dakru tell me that Tausek has already convicted me and all of you by association. He has rebuilt his personal protection structure around himself with new bodies. Stoll has succeeded me. We have all been replaced by Tausek's own private force. No more d'Hont.” Plass swung around the face the group. “From this point onward, the d'Hont will be nothing more than his personal weapon."
The officers stared back at him, stunned. Plass continued, his voice low. “We alone know the truth. And we are on our own."
"Then how do we get to him?” Major Berman demanded.
"I have a plan.” Plass smiled. “Cidra Faulkner will be our bait."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"That's your plan?"
Cidra jumped at the anger in Grey's voice as he shot out of his chair and practically leapt over Plass’ desk. She clenched her hands together in the chair next to his, still stunned at the scheme Plass had just outlined. A scheme that would bring down Tausek. A scheme that could cost her and Grey their lives.
The young blond Lieutenant standing behind them pressed a hand to Grey's shoulder to pacify him. Grey swatted the hand off like an insect and glared at Plass. Fury radiated from every muscle in his body.
"What kind of plan is that?” he raged at Plass. �
��Haven't we given you enough already? We practically put Tausek in your lap. Do we have to pull the trigger, too?"
Unruffled, Plass steepled his fingers in front of his face. “Tausek is well insulated. A direct assault on him will not work. Besides, we want him alive. In his case, instant death is not punishment enough. I won't force you to help. I can only ask."
Grey lip curled into a snarl. “Well, that's good because the answer is no."
"It is a sound plan.” Plass regarded Grey with a cool, placid expression. “And the only way to get a confession from Tausek."
"I wouldn't call leaving us unarmed with that madman a sound plan,” Grey snapped. “We won't be your bait."
Plass shook his head slowly. “I know Tausek. He will not turn down the opportunity to gloat about his successful deception. Especially if he believes the confession will die with you. It is the perfect trap."
"You can't guarantee our safety,” Grey charged. “You can barely keep Cidra safe from your own men."
"My crew and I will do everything within our power to protect you,” Plass offered.
Grey's eyes narrowed. “Tell me. Does Tausek know you're on to him?"
The only answer from Plass was the steady drumming of his fingers together.
Grey nodded. “That's what I thought. You can't even protect yourself.” Grey reached over and tried to pull Cidra out of her chair. “Forget it."
"No.” Cidra pushed his hand aside. Grey stared at her in confusion.
She raised her gaze to Plass. “I'll do it."
She felt the temperature in the room dropped several degrees before Grey responded, “No, you won't."
Cidra refused Grey's hand again, keeping her gaze on Plass. “Commander Plass is right. It's the only way."
"We are not going to do this, Cidra. We've done more than enough already,” Grey said.
She could feel the burning heat of his eyes on her, but she pressed on. “This is the one peaceful option. Broadcasting the confession is the perfect way to communicate the truth to all the people and the d'Hont at the same time. Otherwise, sides will be taken, blood will be spilled."