Molon was grateful those two were in the same cell with John, but without medical tools there was not much he could do. Molon couldn’t risk exposing John by asking for medical supplies to be given to him either. If Voide was right, they were looking for John, and they had to know he was a doctor. Maybe this was all part of their plan to identify him.
“No, John,” Molon answered. “You are dressed as deck crew, so keep playing at being one.”
“But I am a doctor, I can’t just—”
“You can, and you will,” Voide snapped, grabbing John by the neck and slamming him against the wall. “Otherwise those eleven crewmen died for nothing. You paid us to get you to Ratuen so you could chase your dead wife’s ghost, so obey the captain’s orders, pale. You blow this mission after talking the captain into it, I’ll gut you myself.”
“Enough, Voide,” Molon replied, summoning that commanding, captain tone that supposedly conveyed he was in charge. “Stand down, now. He’s a doctor, not a soldier. He took an oath to heal; he can’t just turn that off. Give him a break.”
Molon didn’t quite catch what Voide’s mumbled response was, but the words “…break his…” wafted through to Molon’s cell. He saw through the bars that Voide had released her grasp on John’s neck.
“Besides, John,” Molon added, “Bob is in the cell with you and coming to. His uniform is clearly marked as a corpsman, so if we can get supplies, he can treat them without raising suspicion. Patch can help once he wakes up. You can assist if no one is watching.”
Bob was a Lubanian corpsman whose real name was Rzorf Ffranzawu. His call sign came from his tail having been cut off. This was a Lubanian custom when prisoners were taken in battle and turned into slaves. A bobbed tail was a permanent sign of servitude.
Molon had liberated Bob during the same Star Wolf raid on Tetoyl that had freed Mel. Molon had granted Rzorf his freedom, and the grateful Lubanian medic had joined Star Wolf as a corpsman, taking the call sign Bob as an inside joke.
“Voide is right though,” Molon continued. “You hired us to do a job, and we knew the risks. The casualties aren’t on your head, they are on mine. I figured this for a trap but still took the most obvious route from Tede to Hatacks. It was too predictable a move.”
“You couldn’t have known, Captain,” John replied.
“I should have. A captain is supposed to know, but we are where we are. For now, just let us complete the job you hired us for. Voide knows GalSec, and if anyone can figure the angle to get us out of this, she can.”
The brig doors opened. In walked Simmons and another GalSec officer all too familiar to both Molon and Voide. His tall, fit build, gel-slicked black hair, bright blue eyes, and too-perfect smile was enough to turn Molon’s stomach. Mark Russel.
“Yasu!” Russel said, using Voide’s given name rather than her call sign as he rushed toward the bars of her cell. “When Simmons told me you were here I thought he had grown a sense of humor.”
“And Molon Hawkins,” Mark said, turning toward the other cell, “I heard Voide joined up with you after she left GalSec, but I had no idea you’d secured your own ship. A Scimitar class frigate? That is a hefty hull for a private merc vessel. You have done quite well for yourself, Molon, or I guess I should say Captain Hawkins.”
Molon could almost feel the seething rage emanating from Voide as she stared intently at Russel. He mentally commended her for her self-control. Mark Russel had been a large part of Voide’s decision to leave GalSec. He had fallen hard for her, and his fixation with pursuing a relationship had made sticking around problematic. She wouldn’t have stayed in GalSec with Mark as her superior even if Molon hadn’t made her a better offer as Star Wolf’s security chief.
“Mark, good to see you again,” Molon lied. “I wish it was under better circumstances. However, since we are all old friends I trust you will release my crew and allow my injured crewmen the benefits of Revenge’s sick bay?”
“Oh, I wish it were that simple, Molon,” Mark said, shaking his head.
Molon realized he was about to be in a yarn-spinning contest. He would have to pretend that Star Wolf wasn’t doing anything against the Provisional Imperium, which included their Dawnstar allies. Mark would have to pretend he actually wanted to release Molon and his crew but that somehow the Deputy Director of GalSec’s Intelligence Division didn’t have that authority. As accomplished a liar as Russel was, Molon might not be on par with an opponent of such skill.
“I tell you what,” Russel continued. “If Yasu would be so kind as to join me, we will discuss what can be done to resolve this situation quickly and equitably. In the meantime, Simmons, do be so kind as to arrange to have the ship’s doctors see to Captain Hawkins’s injured crewmen.”
To Molon’s surprise, Simmons nodded and exited. How a clearly brilliant, possibly augmented interrogator like Simmons wound up taking orders from a hyper-ambitious sycophant like Russel had to be quite a story.
“Now, Yasu,” Russel continued. “If your crewmates would please step back from the door, I can let you out. We have so much to talk about.”
Molon clenched his jaw. Voide’s once-held feelings for Russel were long past. His stalking obsession had driven them away long before Molon met them. Now the mission was on the line and this was the break they needed. Could Voide play along until an opportunity to secure the release of Star Wolf and the crew presented itself?
“Of course, Mark,” Voide answered in a tone Molon had only once heard her use before.
It bore a striking resemblance to the one she had used on the sadistic guard Alex to lure him to his surprise rhinoplasty. What shocked Molon even more was that once Mark opened the cell door, Voide did not immediately dismember him. She walked calmly out of the cell, brushing a hand gently across Russel’s chest as he locked the door again from the security panel.
“After you, Yasu,” he said, placing a hand lightly on her waist and motioning toward the door to the brig. As they exited, Voide flashed Molon a half-smirk and a quick wink.
“What the heck is she doing?” John choked. “Just like that she is off with the enemy?”
“Relax, Doc,” Molon replied. “She is playing along looking for a way to spring us.”
“It didn’t look like she was pretending.”
“Voide is a trained GalSec agent. She’s very good at pretending.”
Besides Bob, two Lubanian marines, Tracker and Frosty, shared John’s cell. In Molon’s cell, a Lubanian communications officer, Snips, and two Lubanian engineers, Midnight and Scraps, had mostly recovered from the narcozine. Lubanians had a greater resistance than humans did to the effects of chemical agents, but even Molon and the Lubanians were in less than optimal condition.
It was up to Voide to find a way to get them out of this. Molon knew she was struggling against her conflicted feelings for Mark Russel. Controlling her emotions wasn’t exactly Voide’s forte. Despite his assurances to John, Molon was not completely convinced that even Voide’s GalSec undercover training would enable her to get Star Wolf’s crew released without handing John over to the Provisional Imperium or GalSec.
Thirteen – Spies and Lies
Voide followed Mark Russel in silence down a long corridor outside the brig. As they approached an elevator, he finally broke his reticence, turned to face her, and reached out as if he meant to take her hand.
“It’s been a long time, Yasu. I’ve missed you.”
Her jaw clenched as she struggled to settle the unfamiliar twitch in her stomach. She left his partly extended hand hanging awkwardly, ungrasped, until he realized her reluctance and withdrew it. He led her into the elevator and punched in a destination code.
Once, she had held hope that they might be more than friends. Long ago she had cherished a vague, fleeting belief that somehow in a galaxy filled with sophonts who wished to see her dead, there might be one person with whom to share hopes, dreams, and, dare she imagine it, even love.
“Mark, I…” she started, then pa
used in thought as the elevator doors closed.
She remembered the day, years before, when it had all changed. They had been dancing the night before. She’d floated home, her heart lighter than she ever remembered it being. Had she ever been as happy as she was holding his hand while they strolled back to the GalSec barracks?
But the next morning, she had walked out of the communal shower room wrapped in a towel. On her way back to her room to get ready for the day she discovered Mark just sitting on the floor in the hallway outside her room with the stupidest looking grin on his face.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he had said to her without even getting up off the floor, as though this was the most natural thing in the world.
She had greeted him awkwardly, told him she was late, and excused herself as she went into her room to get ready for work. When she had dressed and come back out, he was gone. From that point on, however, she was never again fully at ease with Mark. What had been so joyful became creepy. Her romantic man had become an obsessive stalker.
“Look, Yasu,” Mark said, snapping her out of her reverie. “I know this is an awkward reunion.”
“Awkward? That’s one word for it,” Voide responded, thinking that capturing her ship and imprisoning the whole crew went a few steps beyond awkward.
“I want you to trust me,” Mark continued. “We just need some information. If you help us, I will make sure Molon and the rest of your crew are released unharmed.”
Voide knew Mark was a professional liar. Everyone in the GalSec Information Division was, including herself. Despite her instinct to loathe him and doubt anything he might say, on some level she believed he was being sincere, at least as much as Mark understood sincerity.
The elevator opened onto Revenge’s expansive bridge. Two armed security officers reached for blasters until Mark raised a hand to signal them to stand down.
“At ease, everyone,” Mark commanded. “Miss Matsumura is former GalSec, and my guest. I assure you she poses no threat.”
From the captain’s chair an older man, slightly heavy set with white hair and a closely trimmed full beard, stood to his feet. On his uniform was the golden lion emblem of the Provisional Imperium. His shoulder epaulettes bore the rank insignia of a Rear Admiral in the Imperial Navy.
“I will be the judge of that on this ship, Deputy Director Russel,” the older man said. “It is highly irregular to bring any prisoners out of the brig, much less to the bridge. You can rest assured I will be filing a grievance with High Archon Zarsus as well as with the Overdirector of Galactic Security. You may be in charge of our destination and mission, but I am responsible for the security and safety of this ship.”
Admiral Starling motioned to the two security officers nearest the elevator door.
“You two, I want weapons charged and unholstered at low-ready position as long as this Pariah is on my bridge. Set your weapons on maximum power. If she comes within two feet of any operational panel, makes any attempt to remove those wristlets, or otherwise moves to threaten any member of the bridge crew, deadly force is authorized. Acknowledged?”
“Yes sir,” echoed the two security personnel.
The men immediately drew their weapons, changed settings on the laser pistols, and kept them in hand. Their intense gaze never left Voide.
“Yasu, I am sorry about this,” Mark said with a smile somewhere between sympathetic and patronizing. “I do have considerable leeway, but security measures rest with Admiral Starling.”
“I understand,” Voide answered, quite sure Mark was manipulating Starling as much as he was trying to manipulate her with this charade.
“Admiral,” Mark said, dropping the affected smirk and projecting so everyone on the bridge would hear him clearly. “By your leave, I would like to utilize the ready room adjoining the bridge for a private conversation. Please instruct the stewards to bring us something to drink and some light food. I am sure Miss Matsumura is quite hungry by now.”
Voide doubted if, in the worst fit of anger she had ever managed to summon, she had conjured up a more murderous gaze than the one in Starling’s eyes. He stared at Mark for several seconds before giving a silent motion with his hand that sent an ensign scurrying off via the elevator that had brought her and Mark to the bridge. Mark motioned toward a door to starboard and nudged Voide gently in that direction.
“Security, stay with her,” the admiral ordered.
“I am sorry, admiral, I cannot allow that,” Mark answered, warning the security officers off with a glance. “What I need to discuss with Miss Matsumura is an eyes-only GalSec matter. I am afraid your men are not cleared to attend. Come to think of it, neither are you.”
Mark flashed a condescending grin at the admiral, who flushed a more sanguine shade than most humans were able to achieve.
“Why you arrogant—”
“Now, now, Admiral,” Russel interrupted. “I assure you GalSec takes full responsibility. You are welcome to have your security officers monitor the room, video only mind you, and have them stand ready outside the door if it makes you feel any better. I assure you Revenge is in no danger from this particular Pariah.”
Voide and Mark exited the bridge and entered a small conference room. While actual windows on a starship were a structural vulnerability few were willing to risk, monitors on the wall currently displayed a projected image of what a window would have revealed. Natural space, rather than the swirling colors of voidspace, showed they were still in the Hatacks system.
Ahead were the larger glowing globes of the red main-sequence dwarf star, and the red subdwarf, which were the two primary stars in the Hatacks system. The third star in this trinary system, a brown sub-stellar dwarf object, was too far and dim to be seen from this position. Though Voide could sense they were moving at high sub-light speed toward the Hatacks mainworld, the view from the monitors appeared nearly as still as a painting.
They were millions of miles from the red twin stars. Without any of the ten inhabited worlds in the Hatacks system anywhere nearby, there was nothing in close enough proximity to gauge relative movement. Normal space was funny that way.
Voidspace was so full of color, lines, and movement, like a swirling mass of painted clouds. Distance was meaningless in voidspace as it was constantly in flux, folding, bending, and changing. There was always a sense of movement that Voide found comforting. Normal space was also in constant motion, but the vast distances stole any perspective of that movement and left the viewer feeling alone and stagnant.
“Yasu, are you all right?” Mark asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.
Voide snapped back to the reality around her and fought the instinct to grab Mark’s arm and snap his wrist. Part of her wanted his touch, but that part was buried deep beneath the raging essence of her Prophane genetics.
“All right, Mark?” Voide replied, furrowing her brow as the slightest hint of agitation slipped into her tone. “You capture our ship, leave me to be tortured, then ride in to the rescue and take me away while my crew sits stewing in the brig. Exactly how all right do you expect me to be?”
Normally Voide was disciplined and could control her feelings when she focused on doing it, at least for the most part. Now, it was almost like she was a passenger inside herself, watching the journey but with little control over the destination. Her wandering mind and lack of focus was probably a side effect of the voidspace inhibiting wristlets. Then again, maybe it was the wrestling with some lingering feelings for Mark, other than loathing and revulsion, that was keeping her off-balance.
Mark flashed a brief look of anger at her mention of being tortured by the crewmen, but then moved to take a seat at the end of the small conference table. He gave Voide a sympathetic smile.
“Those men will be severely disciplined, I assure you.”
“And that is supposed to make it okay?” she snapped.
He didn’t respond verbally, but simply nodded toward the chair closest to her. After a few moments locked in a fu
tile stare of resistance, she relented and took a seat.
“First off let me say I had no idea you were on that ship. Neither Admiral Starling nor I gave orders for anyone to be mistreated. The crew was to be held until Simmons and I could question them. I am truly sorry about what happened.”
“You didn’t know I was on that ship?” Voide reigned in her shock. “GalSec must be slipping. It is standard procedure to know targets inside out before making any move. I would have expected you to know everything down to what we all had for breakfast this morning.”
“You are right,” Russel replied with a smile, “but not this time. I only learned about you when Simmons told me we had an old acquaintance of mine in custody. I came straight to the brig once I heard you were there.”
Maybe they weren’t as burned as Voide had feared. If Mark hadn’t known she was on the ship, maybe he didn’t know about John either. She didn’t believe in coincidence. It was time for some counterintelligence questions to establish how deep they had stepped in it this time.
“So what is an Imperial cruiser doing under command of GalSec, and why are you capturing ships coming out of voidspace without so much as a courtesy hail?”
Mark’s brow furrowed. His formerly pleasant tone took on a more serious inflection.
“A courtesy hail? Are you kidding me? The moment Star Wolf came out of voidspace and spotted us your helmsman put in a reverse course. If we hadn’t had the Dawnstar fighters there with VDEs, you would have been back in voidspace before there was time to say hello. Then you dropped two missiles with blinder loads in between Revenge and Star Wolf. We tried to hail but got your EM transmission code for comms down, a suspicious condition on an otherwise undamaged ship. Those are typical pirate cut and run tactics, Yasu, you know that. What did you expect us to do?”
Voide ignored the question. How much did Mark actually know about their recent activities? Time to push the issue.
Star Wolf (Shattered Galaxy) Page 22