John also glanced at the large malmorph engineer. Dub’s mechanical hands were legitimately weapons by themselves. It could be argued that they were a part of what made Star Wolf’s chief engineer functional. It was doubtful Revenge’s security would give Dub’s prosthetics more than a cursory glance. Even if they did remove the mechanized hands, however, Dub’s malmorphsy gave him the physical strength of several men. Dub would be a tough customer in a fight, armed or not.
Mel looked the least threatening, but John knew better. Fei psionic abilities were beyond the scope of his knowledge, but what he himself had encountered bore witness that Mel was anything but defenseless. Could she actually use her abilities in an offensive attack? John didn’t know, but he expected that if things got ugly, whatever cruiser crewman was closest to the blue-skinned Fei might become overwhelmed with the idea that attacking his crewmates might be the best way to please the lovely alien girl.
Twitch, Star Wolf’s executive officer, seemed an unarmed, normal human. From what John had learned of her service record during his time aboard Star Wolf, she was a capable fighter with a head for tactics and as much field experience as any officer aboard. One did not survive several tours of duty with the Imperial Scouts, surveying wild planets and investigating subversive organizations, without knowing how to get oneself out of a scrap or two.
Suddenly a sobering fact dawned on John. Out of all of the Star Wolf’s command officers, he was the least likely to survive this meeting if anything went wrong. He wasn’t a combatant. He had no real field experience doing anything dangerous at all. Diplomacy wasn’t even in his purview. In fact, unless a spontaneous card game broke out, his only real contribution would be patching others up so they could continue the fight.
But he knew that wasn’t why he was along on this ride.
John fingered the small cube that hung on a cord around his neck, hidden from view by the collar of his shirt. This was what it was all about. Would his crewmates, the ones who knew of the datacube at least, turn him over to save themselves? If they did not, could John honestly stand by in silent defiance as his newfound shipmates were tortured or killed for his secret? His life with Elena on Tede was a lifetime ago and a million light-years away.
Elena…
The unarmed crewman opened the door to a meeting room and then turned away, presumably to return to whatever his normal duties entailed when not escorting enemy officers through Revenge’s corridors.
The large conference room looked far more spacious and accommodating than John had seen aboard any ship. It was worthy of comparison to some of the finest boardrooms he had encountered at any planet-bound corporate headquarters. Awaiting the Star Wolf contingent were the two GalSec agents, Deputy Director of Intelligence Mark Russel and Senior Special Interrogator Simmons. An older man in a sharp, medal-adorned Provisional Imperium military uniform was also seated with the GalSec agents at one end of the large table. John suspected this was the commanding officer of the cruiser, Admiral Starling.
The last person seated with the others John had not seen before. He was dressed in a white, high-collared jacket typical of practicing physicians or medical researchers. His red hair and green eyes gave the impression of a fairly young man, but more than a few wrinkles, as well as him being seated at the table with the GalSec leaders and the ship’s Admiral, proved that this man was someone in authority. He bore no military insignias of any kind, but the universal Humaniti medical symbol dating back to ancient Earth, the caduceus, was emblazoned in gold thread over his left breast pocket.
Had it just been these four men, John might have thought the Star Wolf command officers more than a match for their hosts. Unfortunately, they were not alone. Scattered around the edges of the room stood half a dozen security officers, dressed in GalSec black, heavily armed and looking extremely unhappy, or possibly, in John’s expert medical opinion, more than mildly constipated. That is, all save one.
One of the six security officers, the only female, bore the rank insignia of a sergeant, making her the ranking non-com of the security team in the room. Her face seemed not only calm but even kind. Despite this one ray of positivity, John found it unsettling that the security team was comprised of GalSec agents rather than the expected PI Navy security.
“Is it normal for security to be GalSec rather than PI Navy?” John whispered to Molon.
“It’s not normal for GalSec to be aboard a Navy ship at all,” Molon replied. “I’m guessing the security detail has to do with trust issues.”
“GalSec doesn’t trust the PI Navy?” John asked, raising an eyebrow.
“GalSec doesn’t trust anyone,” Molon answered.
John could have sworn he caught just the briefest glimpse of a smile from the female sergeant as his eyes met hers. This was not a condescending smile, nor did it seem smug and patronizing. There was a genuine compassion in her face, though she quickly turned it back to an eyes-forward expressionless attitude of disciplined attention.
Her pale skin, bright blue eyes, and jet black hair accented her soft, lovely features. John couldn’t help but think that she would look more at home as a starlet in some holovid than the drab, ebony garb of a GalSec security officer. His musings were cut short by Mark Russel.
“Captain Hawkins, if you and your crew would please take a seat, we can get started,” said Russel. “I’m anxious to conclude our business before any more unexpected surprises arise. I found the premature interruption of our last meeting quite inconvenient.”
“I would have hoped some of you all found it educational,” Voide growled. “Maybe next time someone tells you to roll a ship, you will listen.”
The admiral flushed at Voide’s comment, but kept silent. John was amused that Voide wasn’t only good at getting under his own skin. It seemed that she employed her gift universally.
“Yasu,” Russel replied. “You can’t blame Admiral Starling. You must admit, the timing of that pocket carrier’s arrival was rather suspicious. Nonetheless, that is irrelevant to the discussion at hand. Shall we continue?”
Russel motioned toward the opposite end of the conference table from where he and his compatriots were seated. Star Wolf’s five command officers, plus John, took their seats at the end of the large, oval table. To John, the scene looked almost comical, like a B-rate holovid set on ancient earth where a royal couple was seated for dinner at opposite ends of a huge banquet table. Whether for intimidation purposes or simply to put a cautious distance between Star Wolf’s officers and himself, Russel had controlled the setting masterfully.
“Let me be blunt,” Russel continued. “Since your untimely departure from Revenge, we finished decrypting our copy of Star Wolf’s logs. We know you broke Dr. Salzmann out of Ratuen. We know you returned to Tede. Finally, we know you are in possession of Dr. Elena Salzmann’s malmorphsy research.”
John tensed. He caught himself as he subconsciously started to reach for the hidden necklace that held Elena’s datacube. Fortunately John’s hand had not risen more than a couple of inches off his lap and he forced it to return there. Were they just fishing, or did they know?
“You are right,” Molon said.
John’s stomach jumped to his throat. Was this it? Was Molon about to sell him out? The ramifications of Molon’s admission zipped through John’s mind. He was a gambler, though, and no matter what happened, he needed to not tip his hand. If Molon was going to sell him out, he would have done it before now. John needed to stay calm and be ready to back Molon’s play, whatever it was.
“We did break Dr. Salzmann out of Ratuen,” Molon continued. “A breakout necessitated by Dawnstar’s unlawful intrusion onto a Theocracy world and illegal abduction of Drs. John and Elena Salzmann.”
“So you admit your crimes against the Dawnstar Technocracy?” Russel replied, raising an eyebrow.
“I admit to a rescue mission across factional lines during wartime,” Molon countered, his ears twitching forward as he focused his gaze intently on Russel.
&
nbsp; “Ah,” Admiral Starling interjected. “But you are not soldiers of the Theocracy. Therefore your actions are not protected under the Humaniti Articles of Warfare. You are pirates according to Empire law.”
Starling paused, stroking his chin that hung beneath a slowly-spreading smile.
“Unless, of course,” he continued, “you have a letter of marque authorizing you to act on behalf of the Theocracy. Do you have such a letter?”
Molon’s ears flattened against his head as his brow furrowed and his whiskers twitched. He made no immediate reply.
“Ah,” Starling added. “I thought as much.”
Admiral Starling smirked like a cat that had cornered a mouse, but Russel simply folded his hands and smiled, relishing what he obviously perceived as a verbal victory.
To John’s surprise, it was Twitch, not Molon, who broke the silence. Her matter-of-fact tone and military demeanor wiped the smug looks off the faces of the admiral and GalSec deputy director alike.
“We are an unaligned mercenary vessel with authorized Articles of Operation issued by both the Provisional Imperium and the Theocracy of the Faithful. We accepted a contract while on a Theocratically controlled world. Confidential contracts are often initiated anonymously, and given the nature of the mission we acted in good faith that this was a lawful contract sanctioned by the Theocracy.”
“And was it?” Starling asked, his smile a bit too smug.
As a gambler, John knew it was foolish to call a bluff by asking a question one didn’t know the answer to. He suspected Admiral Starling knew this as well.
“No,” Twitch admitted. “But it was not until after we had completed the contract that we learned the anonymous issuer of the contract was not, in fact, the Theocratic government, but rather an interested third party.”
“Well,” Starling replied. “I fail to see how that helps your case.”
“Then let me educate you,” Twitch responded, drawing an indignant scowl from the admiral. “Given the anonymity of the contract, and the fact that we will testify under oath that we acted in good faith under the presumption this was a sanctioned mission for the Theocracy to rescue two of its citizens unlawfully abducted from a sovereign Theocracy-controlled world, article sixteen sub-section two under the ‘Fog of War’ provisions, it cannot be proven we were acting solely for personal gain or with criminal intent. Therefore you cannot legally bring piracy charges against Star Wolf or her crew.”
“You know your Humaniti Council law, commander,” Senior Interrogator Simmons interjected. No emotion whatsoever graced his monotone voice. “Yet you freely admit you were not operating under a contract for the Theocracy.”
“That is correct,” Twitch replied, “and as I noted, irrelevant.”
“You further claim,” Simmons continued, ignoring her objection, “to have independent operator licenses with the Provisional Imperium and the Theocracy.”
“That is correct,” Twitch replied.
“Unfortunately,” Simmons continued, steepling his fingers. “You have no Articles of Operation agreement with the Dawnstar Technocracy.”
“That is correct,” Twitch acknowledged.
“Thus, you entered Dawnstar space illegally. This is a fact, even if you could make a good faith case that you believed your employer to be the Theocracy of the Faithful.”
Twitch nodded, locking her gaze on Senior Special Interrogator Simmons. She sat up even straighter in her chair as she addressed the accusation leveled at her.
“While ordinarily that might be true, under article sixty-seven, subsection four of the Unaligned Forces Operational Agreement, I quote, ‘A mercenary vessel with a secured, validated contract agreement may engage in recovery actions for persons or property pursuant to an unlawful act carried out by any of the officially recognized Humaniti factions.’ The kidnapping of the Salzmanns was an illegal act by Dawnstar against civilian targets, thereby legitimizing Star Wolf’s rescue operation regardless of the identity of our employer. I’m sure Captain Hawkins will be happy to produce the contract records to prove we were under a confirmed, validated contract at the time we entered Dawnstar space. Now if there will be nothing else, gentlemen, we will take our leave.”
Twitch stood as if a staff meeting had just concluded and it was time to get back to real work.
“Sit down, commander!” Russel ordered, his face flushing red and his voice losing the smug calm that had marked his earlier conduct in the meeting. “We are far from finished here. Even if the story concerning your initial incursion checks out, there is still the matter of Star Wolf’s actions on Ratuen to settle. Can blowing up an STS and a docking facility rightly be defined as a ‘recovery action’? I believe that firmly crosses the line into terrorism.”
Twitch, unrattled, held her head high as she retook her seat. Molon patted her arm reassuringly as he leaned over and whispered to her.
“Whatever else happens, that was beautiful! Say you will marry me.”
“Sorry, captain,” Twitch grinned. “I prefer my men clean-shaven, and you’d just look silly without fur.”
Both laughed quietly to each other. Russel’s face reddened even more, and it looked like one vein in his forehead might rupture. John suspected the GalSec deputy director was unaccustomed to having those under his thumb enjoy a moment of amusement at his expense.
“Captain Hawkins,” Russel said, flustered and struggling to regain his former composure. “Explain for me in detail what happened on your visit to Ratuen when you effected the escape of Dr. John Salzmann.”
“I’d be glad to,” Molon replied as he leaned forward and placed his forearms on the table. “After the warden of Ratuen murdered an illegally-abducted Theocracy citizen, Dr. Elena Salzmann, I utilized whatever means necessary to preserve my life and the life of the remaining abductee, Dr. John Salzmann.”
“Whatever means necessarily including a tactical nuclear explosion,” Russel quipped.
“Technically it was a simple blastiplast explosion, but when that reacted with the STS’s propulsion fuel, it cascaded into a tac-nuke. Anyway, we escaped Ratuen and I returned Dr. Salzmann to his home planet of Tede. He returned to find his home and all his possessions burned up in a house fire. With his wife gone, his home destroyed, and nothing to return to, he decided to sign on with Star Wolf as chief medical officer.”
“Nothing to return to?” Simmons asked, his voice rising with the inquiry. “I assume you mean nothing other than a multi-billion-dollar interstellar pharmaceuticals company.”
John figured this was as good a time as any to speak for himself, as long as the focus was on him and far away from Elena’s research.
“Salzmann Pharmaceuticals has a very competent board of directors. Fortunately, my physical presence is unnecessary for my company to continue to function. The qualified people in my employ have general directives to guide routine operations, and my attorneys are more than capable of handling any urgent decisions that arise in the event I am unreachable.”
“I’m sure that is immensely comforting to your shareholders, doctor,” Simmons replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “And then, after you escaped captivity, you had an epiphany that your existence as an over-privileged wastrel was unfulfilling. To alleviate your growing wanderlust, you decided to risk life and limb as an interstellar mercenary? Is that what you seriously expect us to believe?”
“I was grateful for my rescue,” John responded, his throat tightening a bit under the weight of Simmon’s scathing sarcasm. “Star Wolf was without a chief medical officer, so I decided to fill that role while they looked for one.”
“And what about your wife’s research, doctor? Where is that now?” Simmons smiled ever so slightly as if, having baited John into joining the conversation, he might now draw the noose to capture his prey.
John’s mind reeled. He mentally kicked himself for jumping into the conversation at all. Now he was back on the hook with the subject of Elena’s research leaving him wriggling for a way out. Molon did
not leave him dangling long, however, as the Lubanian captain once again came to his rescue and assumed the role of spokesperson for Star Wolf.
“As far as whatever research you are referencing, we cannot speak to that. Our best guess is that whatever you are looking for was a casualty of the fire that destroyed the Salzmanns’ home.”
The two GalSec agents and Admiral Starling huddled together at the far end of the table, whispering back and forth. Simmons was pointing to a datapad in front of them. After a nod from Russel, the men sat straight in their chairs once again.
“You are denying that Star Wolf personnel entered the Salzmann home prior to the fire?” Simmons inquired, raising an eyebrow and locking his icy stare on Molon.
John shifted uncomfortably in his chair with the questioning from Senior Interrogator Simmons. He had seen that man take down Voide in hand-to-hand combat like she was little more than a rag-doll. Molon also seemed more than apprehensive about Simmons. Twitch may have won them a point or two, but this meeting had taken a grave turn when control of the interrogation shifted from Russel to Simmons.
Before Molon could answer the question, Voide interjected. John noted the icy calm that had overtaken Star Wolf’s security chief.
“When I escorted Dr. Salzmann to his home on Tede to pick up some personal belongings, we discovered the Salzmanns’ home had been set ablaze. We were unable to enter the home before it burned to the ground. Failing to gain entry and suspecting that whoever had started the fire might still be nearby posing a threat, I urged Dr. Salzmann to get back into our vehicle, after which we returned to Star Wolf.”
“I’m terribly sorry,” said Senior Interrogator Simmons, his deadpan face revealing little of what was coming next. “Your account is discordant with the facts on a number of points.
Star Wolf (Shattered Galaxy) Page 37