by Britt Ringel
Heskan raised his hands questioningly. “I’m not a doctor. How’s moving up our schedule going to help?” No sooner had he finished his sentence than the light switch turned on.
“The Hollarans,” they said in unison as Vernay nodded emphatically.
“Stacy, what if none of the doctors made it off Phoenix?”
“Some of them had to,” Vernay responded. “We have to try, Captain. Vivian’s fought so hard and we owe her the chance.”
Heskan surveyed Vernay’s pleading eyes. Does she honestly think I could say no? “Okay, but I need to get on board Kite first.” A thought occurred to him. “What’s our supply status?”
Vernay looked up at Heskan pitifully. “Really bad. We didn’t dare stop.”
Heskan checked his datapad; it was 02:26. I need to talk with a provisioner… An hour to get on Kite, an hour back… Heskan did the final math and said, “Go back to the freighter and wait for me. Make sure that no one goes off the ship. I.S. has every security camera on the orbital running facial recognition routines to find our fugitives. They’d be spotted in a heartbeat.”
Vernay began to pirouette in place but Heskan reach out to stop her. “And, Stacy, I’m glad you’re back.” One devastating smile later and Vernay was lost in the crowd.
When she vanished, Heskan started moving in the opposite direction. Curiously, despite the impending action, his stomach was completely as ease. The comfort found in trusted companionship achieved what no drug could accomplish. Fortified, he picked up the pace as he made his way back to his suite.
Chapter 7
“Good morning, Commander Heskan,” Kite’s sentry greeted pleasantly. “Welcome back, sir.”
Heskan smiled at a man whose name he could not recall and remarked good-naturedly, “I see they have you working graveyards.”
It was 05:54 and the graveyard shift would soon come off rotation, replaced by the daytime crew. Heskan knew the patchwork, skeleton crew on Kite was responsible for little more than ensuring the majority of her systems remained safely inert. Only her engineering staff resembled something close to the minimum allotted personnel, all the other sections had been stripped beyond the bone. In the next hour, Kite’s occupancy would swell from a meager sixty-four personnel on board to nearly one hundred fifty when civilian contractors returned to continue repairs. Most of those repairmen would be performing tasks outside of the destroyer in EMU-capable pressure suits. The once fearsome warship lay in a recuperative torpor now, anchored to the Anthe construction yard that orbited ten kilometers from the primary space station.
“Yes, sir,” the man grinned at his former captain’s banter. “But it’s almost quitting time.”
Heskan nodded in understanding while shifting his briefcase to his left hand and stifling a faked yawn with his right. He passed through the airlock and walked into the bowels of Kite. Typically, personnel not assigned to the ship were forbidden to board without special consent but the ongoing I.S. investigation of Truesworth’s breakout landed Heskan’s name on the short list permitted entry. With the arrest of Lieutenant Anthony Spencer for his “gross incompetence as captain in allowing the escape of the Eagle pilots,” Lieutenant Welch had nearly tripped over himself offering Heskan unquestioned support and every convenience and courtesy on Kite. Heskan had lamented the news of Spencer’s arrest and risked putting in strong words of support for the junior officer, hoping Brewer would look for an alternate scapegoat.
Heskan planned two stops on his final visit inside the largely vacant destroyer. The entire ship felt like a mausoleum. When Heskan had first boarded Kite, as her new captain, the ship was full of fresh, if nervous, energy. The pride he once felt walking inside her easily matched that aboard Anelace and he had grown quite fond of the ship quickly. When Kite returned to Anthe after the run through Parasite space, her feel had become sinister. Heskan recalled the unnerving feelings of constant surveillance while planning the escape of the pilots. None of that oppressiveness was present today. This morning, Kite felt dead.
He traveled empty elevators and silent corridors to arrive at Truesworth’s quarters. Lockout tape was fixed across the door in an “X.” The panel next to the portal glowed dark red and an actual sheet of paper attached near the panel citied I.S. regulations prohibiting entrance to all. Heskan swiped his datapad over the panel and the portal hissed open. He ducked under the tape and entered the room.
As expected, the compartment remained undisturbed since his last visit weeks ago. After the portal closed, Heskan walked to the closet and set his briefcase on the floor. He opened the case and began to set the countdowns on two Doomex “REAL” two-stage hobby rockets he had purchased on Pallene. Heskan had selected the Doomex brand because the timers held an extra numeral, permitting a countdown up to 99 minutes, 99 seconds. He maxed out the timers and stared at the “Launch” buttons. This is it, Garrett.
The countdowns commenced and Heskan hurriedly buried the rockets under a pile of clothes. He left the closet door open and exited the living quarters without a glance back. Briefcase in hand, Heskan walked quickly down the hall and, several minutes later, arrived at Kite’s primary communications control room. “Greetings, everyone,” he said amiably.
“Everyone” consisted of a petty officer second class and a spaceman apprentice. “Commander,” the surprised PO replied, “it’s good to see you again, sir.”
Heskan moved to a console and lifted his briefcase to the top, grunting with effort as if its contents were heavy. “It’s always great to see Kite’s crew,” he answered. “How have things been?”
The PO sighed. “Painfully quiet, sir. I sure do wish I could be reassigned to an operational ship. Sitting out this war is frustrating.” The spaceman nodded eagerly in agreement.
“Didn’t both of you see plenty of action while Kite was on the front line?”
The sensorman bobbed his head reluctantly but added, “Yeah, I suppose. I just feel kind of like we got banished after we returned. Do you know what I mean, Commander?”
What, being ostracized after finishing a mission the government would rather not talk about? Yeah, I might know how that feels. “Don’t think of it like that. Think of it as well-deserved rest. Besides, I’m sure BPC has already got you two slotted for the next warship to pass through Anthe,” Heskan appeased.
“Yeah… well, thank you, sir.” The PO looked curiously at Heskan’s briefcase. “What can we do for you this morning?”
Heskan looked over to the portal to ensure it had closed and lowered his voice. “Internal Security is concerned that Truesworth may have embedded a virus into Kite. I’ve already checked Cerberus but they want a full sweep of the sensor and communications systems.”
The petty officer quibbled, “But, sir, we run security sweeps each day and we did a full security purge after the, uh, incident.”
Heskan nodded. “I know, but I.S. wants me to run a sweep with this,” he gestured toward the briefcase, “just to be sure. It apparently checks for tampering in ways the normal security protocol doesn’t.” He shrugged. “Whatever, right?”
The sensorman waved at the console. “Fire away, Commander. Happy to have you here for a bit.”
Heskan winced. “Sorry, but you and Spaceman Peters will have to leave the room. This equipment is SCI-level stuff and I.S. doesn’t want folks around when I use it. I’m going to be at least two hours and I’ll flash you on your datapads when you can come back. Let the bridge know that they may see some default warnings since I have to disable some security features to run this program.”
The petty officer frowned but said, “Well, this station is supposed to be manned twenty-four hours a day but I guess you count for that, sir. Me and Peters will notify the bridge and then grab some early breakfast.” Despite his sentiment, the man remained seated with a pensive look. “Um, I was hoping to ask you about this while you were running your search but I’ll just ask now…” The man’s obvious anxiety tripped Heskan’s own. “Commander, is there any way… if it�
��s possible, that you could, well, maybe, talk to BPC and push my next assignment forward? I’d really like off this ship.” As he finished, the man became very attentive to the tops of his own shoes.
I don’t blame him, Heskan thought. I felt it as soon as I boarded. This whole ship feels like a tomb. “Tell you what,” Heskan replied, “I’ll forward a message to BPC mentioning your combat service aboard Kite and your desire to see further action.”
The man grinned with relief as he got up to exit the room. “Thank you, sir! I really appreciate it.”
The spaceman trailed in pursuit of the petty officer and Heskan heard the young man grumble, “You should have asked that for me too,” as the portal slid closed behind them.
Alone in the compartment, Heskan set to work disabling the watchdog program over Kite’s encryption communications equipment. He muted the alert when the program went offline but the flashing lights on the panel would continue until the program was reactivated. Heskan withdrew a spanner from his briefcase and began opening the secondary communications console. He pulled the panel cover off and disconnected the redundant identification, friend-or-foe processing unit. It would be a tight fit, but the briefcase had enough girth to conceal the detached unit. In reality, Heskan was unsure if possession of the back-up IFF unit was worth the risk. He only stumbled upon the idea of absconding with it after Truesworth had left with Vernay to Erriapius. Rudimentary research on the topic had not given Heskan a definitive answer if it would work on a different ship, but he had decided that since he would have to return to Kite a final time anyway, he might as well abuse his privileged status on the destroyer to the hilt.
After ten minutes of work, Heskan closed his briefcase and left the compartment. Sixteen minutes had elapsed on the countdowns in Truesworth’s quarters.
* * *
The shuttle ride to the Anthe orbital cost Heskan an additional twenty-three minutes. Walking to Hussy consumed a further eleven precious minutes. Heskan turned the corner to the freighter’s assigned docking bay, expecting the small room to be uninhabited. Everyone on board Hussy except Vernay was wanted by Brevic authorities and the compartment’s security cameras would identify them in seconds.
Heskan stumbled to a halt when he saw a man in his mid-fifties with tightly cropped light brown hair and blue eyes sitting at the watchman’s station. Panic struck Heskan as he scrutinized the man’s face. No, that’s not an agent I recognize. “Hello?” Heskan greeted questioningly.
“Guten Tag. Sie send Kommandeur Heskan, oder?” The man stood and thrust a friendly hand out.
Heskan shook it tepidly. “I heard my name in there. Do you speak English, sir?”
“Of course, Kommandeur. I am Joachim Müller, your chief engineer. It is a pleasure to meet you.” The man bowed his head slightly. “Why, you may ask, is your chief engineer sitting here when he should be cleaning the power core feed lines?” The pale man’s eyes narrowed, his voice adopting a scolding tone as he answered his own question. “Because Dame Vernay now owes me a very large favor.” He smiled while turning his attention down to his station’s console. “The Kommandeur is here,” he announced. A second command was entered into the console and the docking tube doors opened. “Please proceed, sir.”
Heskan walked down the docking tube but could not resist looking backwards at the strange man. What in the hell was that? I thought Stacy said they didn’t have time to stop on their way back to Anthe. Why would she recruit someone anyway? Questions raced through his mind as he passed through the stained airlock doors and stepped onto the freighter.
He climbed the metal stairs, recently disinfected by the smell of them, and was intercepted by Vernay and Truesworth in Hussy’s main deck corridor. Once again, he turned to the stairwell and pointed down toward the airlock. “What… who?” His face twisted in confusion. “Stacy, I just passed someone… who?” He shook his head. “I guess I’m a little—”
“Bewildered, Captain?” Vernay offered with a grin.
“Yeah, let’s go with that. Who was that guy?”
“It’s a long story, Captain. He sort of came with the ship but he’s working out nicely.”
“Can we trust him alone out there?” Heskan asked.
“I think so. He’s more likely to run back onto the ship than run away,” she answered. “Anyway, I needed to post someone at the watchman’s station. No ship leaves that spot unmanned; it would’ve looked suspicious without someone there.”
Heskan glanced at the chronometer on his datapad. He shook his head to bring him back to the moment. “Okay, I trust your judgment.” He turned to Lieutenant Truesworth. “Jack, you sure you’re up for this?” He handed over his briefcase.
Truesworth knelt to the deck and opened the case. He left the equipment inside but took out a blue and gold keffiyeh and bisht. He flashed a mischievous smile and said, “I’m getting a little cabin fever anyway, Captain. A walk will do me some good.” He closed the case and the three officers walked toward the sickbay.
“How’s Vivian doing?” Heskan asked.
Vernay’s voice wavered slightly. “Hanging in there.”
* * *
Jack Truesworth walked purposefully down the promenade of the Anthe orbital’s commercial deck. The morning rush of people made navigation difficult, as did the keffiyeh wrapped loosely around his face that obscured most of his vision. Complementing the scarf, Truesworth wore a fine, blue bisht stitched with gold trim.
It’s like trying to cross the street in rush hour with a bucket over my head, he thought irritably. Looking around, he realized that he had gone past The Ruddy Kingfisher and stopped abruptly. A man ran into him from behind, knocking the keffiyeh from his face.
“Oh my, I’m terribly sorry, sir,” the man apologized. He quickly bowed humbly as he explained, “I didn’t expect you to stop like that.”
Truesworth hastily rewrapped the disguise around his head. Moments later, he ran toward the nearest lavatory.
* * *
“Hit!” the security spook called out in triumph.
Assistant Secretary Neal ran to the operator’s console. “Where?”
The agent typed rapidly on his keyboard and his screen displayed feed from a camera on the commercial deck. “Sector 4B, Camera Twenty-five.” He tapped a key and the frozen picture zoomed in on a man with a large scarf. “Ninety seconds ago.”
Neal leaned hard on the console’s top as he brought his face near the screen to study the high-resolution picture. “That’s Truesworth. What’s the computer say?”
“Ninety-nine percent confidence, sir. It’s him.” He stroked the keyboard again and the picture unfroze. Truesworth could be seen wrapping the scarf around his head while looking guiltily around him. He then sped off at a breakneck pace.
“Follow him, where’d he go?” Neal pressed.
The agent entered more commands and switched cameras, following the fugitive’s escape. His route ended at the doors of a lavatory. “Smart man,” the agent complimented. “No cameras in there.”
“Has he come out?”
The agent fast-forwarded and throngs of people entered and left the bathroom during the quickened footage. After a minute and a half, the recording slowed automatically to real time and a “Live” status appeared in the upper right of the screen. “He’s either still in there or he had a second disguise.”
Neal pushed off from the console. “You will go back and examine every person who left that bathroom.” He moved quickly to his desk and reached for his datapad.
Chapter 8
Although he had only just returned from Hussy, Heskan sat impatiently in his hotel suite. He spent this time confirming that two PRESERV-A38 FEUS containers had been delivered to Bay-44 on the commercial deck. Heskan had been forced to compromise by leasing forty-meter equivalent storage containers, as there was simply nothing else available in Anthe. He anxiously passed the time reviewing the container specifications, even though he could now recite them from memory, when his datapad chirped
. He pressed “Accept” and said nonchalantly, “Heskan here.”
“Garrett,” Brewer’s voice came over the speakers, causing Heskan to move the datapad into view. The secretary looked agitated.
“Good morning, Mr. Secretary. Is something wrong?”
“Truesworth is on the orbital. We have facial recognition hits from a camera on the commercial deck but we’ve lost sight of him.”
Heskan’s jaw dropped. “He’s on the orbital?”
“Yes,” Brewer answered impatiently. “You will initiate our failsafe immediately. I’m sending Neal and ten agents, everyone I can spare, to the confinement facility to help you move the Hollarans.” Brewer quickly wiped his face with a handkerchief. “You have to get them moved ASAP, Commander.”
Heskan was up and moving through the door as he replied, “Roger that, sir. I’ll send you back Secretary Neal and the agents once they’ve been moved.”
“No,” Brewer responded. “I want them to remain with the valuables.” Heskan’s stomach tightened but he nodded while the secretary continued. “Inform me when the transfer is complete.” Brewer ended the transmission without waiting for acknowledgment.
Heskan was in the hotel lift seconds later. He had, after all, been waiting for the call. After the quick ride down the elevator, he galloped through the lobby past the strange looks from the early morning custodians. Outside, he quickened his pace further.
The dash to the orbital confinement facility took only five minutes, but even then, Assistant Secretary Neal had beaten him to his destination. The four security-police stationed there during the early morning shift were listening to Neal bellow instructions as Heskan trotted around the corner.
Neal turned expectantly toward Heskan and asked, “Exactly how are we going to securely transfer two hundred and eleven prisoners, Commander?”
“We don’t have enough magnetic cuffs, so we’ll have to use standard ties, Mr. Secretary.” He motioned at the guards. “You four need to start binding their hands right now. We’re taking twenty-five at a time.”