Adapt and Overcome (The Maxwell Saga)

by Grant, Peter

  He turned and headed for his official vehicle, limping slightly. Steve and Hogarth relaxed from their positions of attention, their eyes following him. Hogarth asked, “He’s pretty old for his rank, isn’t he, Sir?”

  “Yes, but he hasn’t been commissioned his entire career. He served in the ranks for twenty years, rising to an E-9 Master Chief Petty Officer, then was appointed as a Warrant Officer in the Accident Investigation Unit. He served another twelve years, staying in AIU and rising to W-5 Chief Warrant Officer, then was commissioned as a Limited Duty Officer. He’s been with AIU almost twenty-five years now, which is a record for any unit in the Fleet. His knowledge and experience make him the most qualified investigative team leader we’ve got.”

  The senior NCO chuckled. “With that background and all that experience, he must be quite a character, Sir.”

  “He is. I’ve only been on his team a few months, but I’ve already learned a hell of a lot from him – ah, here’s the transporter!” Steve glanced towards a heavy vehicle approaching along the road leading to the Range Control Office. “I’ll get the last of the wreckage loaded, then have our people take down the perimeter tape. After that the range will be yours again.”

  “It’ll be good to get back to normal, Sir. We’ve got a lot of backlog to make up.”

  Steve watched the transporter crew as they used crane, winch, and tractor and pressor beams to load the last crumpled bits and pieces of wreckage onto the flatbed trailer. Most had long since been gathered up after being photographed and mapped in place. He rode back to the parking lot outside the Range Control Office with the transporter, while the guards gathered up the security tape surrounding the last few wreckage sites, plus its support stakes.

  As the transporter pulled onto the hardstand, Steve said to the driver, “Wait here. The others will be here shortly to escort us in their van. I’ll ride with you to the impound station.”

  “Aye aye, Sir. What does this guy want?” The driver nodded to a white-coated man who’d climbed out of the Brisance van, and was walking towards the transporter.

  “I’ll find out.”

  Steve climbed down from the cab and walked towards the man, to prevent him getting too close to the wreckage. “Yes?” he asked curtly, without preamble.

  “Is the site open to us now?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I work for AIU, not for the range. You’ll have to ask its Commanding Officer for permission to enter the site – although I don’t know why you’d want to, now that we’ve taken away all the wreckage.”

  “We might be able to learn something from soil samples.”

  “Unlikely – we’ve carted away all the topsoil that had traces of contamination, or was beneath parts of the shuttle, or showed signs of impact. Still, if you want to take your own samples from what’s left, that’s as good a way to waste your time as any.”

  Frustration was written all over the man’s face. “Anyone would think you regard us as enemies! Is it too much to ask for a little friendly co-operation for once?”

  “You want my personal opinion? Your bosses might get more co-operation if they stopped making insinuations about AIU’s competence behind our backs. That isn’t calculated to make any of us, including me, look on Brisance with any friendliness.”

  “Hey, that’s got nothing to do with me! That’s high-level office politics at work. I’m just a simple wrench-turner.”

  “Uh-huh. Suuure you are. That’s why your bosses sent you and a few of your buddies to watch us around the clock from as close as you were allowed to get. And what’s with that sensor turret on top of your van? Don’t tell me a ‘simple wrench-turner’ just ‘happened’ to be assigned a vehicle equipped with one. Looks to me like you’re trolling for every scrap of information you can get, including recording everything we do – probably our conversations as well, those that your microphones can pick up.”

  The man opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. His red face indicated either embarrassment or anger – Steve was betting on the latter. He finally managed to say, “You don’t understand! We’re facing questions from the Armed Forces Committee of the Commonwealth Senate, and possible lawsuits from the families of the crew. You won’t let us take samples and examine the wreckage, so how are we supposed to defend ourselves?”

  “You’ll have access to the wreckage soon enough. AIU handles the initial on-site investigation, you know that. All you have to do is wait a couple of weeks. Nobody’s going to take any action against you unless and until there’s evidence to support it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I see my people coming in.”

  Steve turned away without waiting for a response, and crossed to the AIU van as it pulled onto the plascrete surface of the parking lot. He called to the driver, “Follow the transporter to the impound lot. I’ll ride with the driver to give you more room.”

  “Thanks, Sir,” Petty Officer Second Class Gilson replied through the open window. “It’s a bit crowded in here, with all of us plus our field packs. Where’s yours, Sir?”

  “It’s in the Control Center. I’ll collect it, then we’ll be on our way.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Floodlights lit up the entrance to the huge compound, with more stretching away to either side on tall posts set between the double perimeter fences surrounding it. A Marine Sergeant came out of the guardhouse as the transporter pulled up, followed by the van. Steve got down, stretching, swatting at the tiny creatures buzzing, fluttering and circling around his head in the brightly lit area.

  “Evening, Sir,” the Sergeant said as he saluted. “What kept you? You were supposed to be here hours ago.”

  Steve returned his salute. “The transporter’s power-pack malfunctioned. We had to call a service vehicle to get it running again. They were supposed to notify you.”

  “They didn’t, but it’s not the first time that’s happened, Sir. I’ll enter it in the operations log. Trouble is, the staff has gone home, and the inner patrol verified that all the warehouses were locked during their most recent circuit of the compound. Do you have the security code?”

  “Yes, I know the code. I’ve been in and out of that warehouse often enough over the last week, late at night or early in the morning, that I can recite it in my sleep!” They both chuckled.

  The vehicles drove around the perimeter track, then down a broad avenue lined on both sides by hulking metal buildings with huge sliding doors. They pulled to a halt next to the fourth building on the left, which bore a large numeral ‘7’ on either side of its powered doors. Steve dismounted and entered a code on a keypad affixed beneath the leftmost numeral. The security system disarmed itself with a series of audible chirps. He pressed another button, and the doors slid smoothly open on their rails.

  The driver pulled the transporter into the warehouse to the accompaniment of protesting whines from the vehicle’s electric motor. From the noise it made it clearly needed further attention, over and above that provided by the service truck earlier that evening. The van didn’t follow it inside, but stopped outside the warehouse doors. Petty Officer Gilson got out, walking to meet Steve as the transporter’s driver did likewise.

  “That’s it, then, Sir,” the driver said wearily, gesturing to the wreckage spread across the floor of the warehouse. “I don’t envy the technical team, trying to make sense of all this lot!”

  “It’ll be a tough job,” Steve agreed. “You all did very well getting everything gathered up and moved here so quickly.”

  He blinked to activate the Personal Information Assistant perched behind his ear, then focused on the display projected onto a contact lens in his right eye. “It’s twenty-three-thirty already. It’s an hour’s drive to our offices, where my vehicle’s parked; but your barracks are in the opposite direction, so there’s no point in having you run me back. Besides, I’ll have to drive another half-hour from our offices to my apartment, then be on the road again by six to get back here in time to start work with the technical team. It’s not worth all that driving,
for any of us. I’ll stay here tonight.”

  “In the warehouse, Sir?” Gilson queried, startled. “Won’t that be pretty uncomfortable?”

  “The accommodation trailer’s here. I’ve slept in it three nights out of the past six. It’s not great, but it’s bearable. There should still be some ration packs in its kitchen, and a couple of packets of coffee; and they refilled the water tanks and emptied the waste tanks this morning, so I’ll be able to shower. I’ve got clean clothing in my field pack, so I’ll be all right for tomorrow.”

  The NCO’s face cleared. “OK, Sir. I’ll tell the gate guards that you’ve stayed behind.”

  “Thanks, PO. Go get some sleep. We all need it after this past week.”

  He watched them leave, then walked over to the internal offices set against one wall of the warehouse, grimacing as the door squeaked open on dry, unoiled hinges. He activated the security system’s master control panel and toggled the doors, which slid closed as he checked the sensor turrets. There were six of them, spaced evenly beneath the roof to monitor every movement. He activated them, making sure they were recording everything, then linked the security system to his comm unit. If anyone tried to enter the warehouse without disarming the system, it would transmit an alert code to wake him.

  Stretching wearily, he fetched his field pack and sleeping-bag from the transporter’s cab and carried them to the accommodation trailer. It had five small sleeping compartments, each equipped with two vertically-stacked bunks, plus a tiny shared galley and fresher unit. He checked that the level of the trailer’s capacitor bank was nominal, then took a quick shower, grabbed the first field ration pack that came to hand, heated it and ate mechanically, almost without tasting the food, and decided to forgo tea or coffee. He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

  ~ ~ ~

  He came suddenly awake, momentarily disoriented until he remembered where he was. Through the thin wall of the accommodation trailer he heard the grinding sound of the warehouse’s electric door motors. Light from the floodlights illuminating the hardstand in front of the building brightened the warehouse interior as its doors slowly slid partway open.

  What the hell?, Steve thought to himself. He glanced at the time display on the wall. It was just after three in the morning. No-one’s supposed to be here until seven – and why didn’t the security system alert me? Someone must have entered the code to disarm it from the outside panel. He unzipped his sleeping bag, got out of it and peered out of the tiny window to see a van drive through the doors. It was white, with a yellow stripe around its body. A man in light blue Service Corps-issue coveralls followed it through the doors, going to an auxiliary security panel bolted to a metal upright. The doors began to slide closed again as the warehouse lights came on.

  Steve pulled on the gray utility coveralls he’d laid ready on the top bunk, fingers fumbling with the fasteners. He slipped his feet into the athletic shoes he’d worn after his shower the previous evening, then closed their hook-and-loop straps. His mind was racing. Who the hell would be coming in here like this, particularly at this time of the morning? Only AIU is supposed to have access to this place, and that’s not one of our vehicles.

  He eased open the door to his sleeping compartment, blessing the fact that the trailer had been parked against one wall of the warehouse, out of the way. Its doors faced the wall, allowing him to move undetected. He stepped down to the plascrete floor and moved cautiously along the trailer until he could peer around the rear of the vehicle.

  Three men were standing next to the van, with the fourth moving to join them from the security panel. Three wore Service Corps coveralls, but the fourth was in working uniform, silver officers’ insignia glittering on his collar. They were too far away for Steve to make out his rank, or hear what the men were saying. The officer was clearly giving instructions, pointing to various pieces of wreckage. The others were nodding as they listened. When he’d finished, each took a toolbox from inside the van and headed for a different item.

  Steve’s mind raced. They’ve got no right to be here, and even less right to do anything with the wreckage! I’d better get help, fast – but how? From whom?

  He stepped back behind the trailer as a thought struck him, then climbed back into his compartment, moving as quietly as before, and closed the door behind him. Picking up his comm unit, he placed a call. The ringing tone went on for quite a while before a tired, irritated voice answered.

  “Bullard here – and you’d better have a real good reason to be waking me at this ungodly hour of the morning!”

  “Sir, Lieutenant Maxwell here.” Steve spoke in a muted whisper, urgently explaining where he was, why he’d stayed at the warehouse that night, and what had just woken him. He peered through the small window. “The three men in coveralls are wiping different bits of wreckage with what looks like pieces of cloth, then putting each one in some sort of container – they look like glass tubes. The officer is standing by the van watching them – no, one of them has just raised his hand. He’s walking over to join him.”

  Bullard had come fully awake as he listened. “Lieutenant, whoever they are, they’ve got no right to be there at all! Thank God you were there to detect them. If they have the code to the security system, they may also have shut off the sensor turrets, but you’re an eyewitness, so that won’t help them. I’ll call the compound’s front gate right away, and have them dispatch the internal security patrol to your location. I’ll also have Captain Ratisbon alert the Bureau of Security. Heaven only knows what’s going on there, but I intend to find out! Terminate this call, but keep your comm unit on you. I’ll tell the front gate you’re in there. On my authority, if those four men try to leave you’re to do anything you can to keep them there until help arrives.”

  “Aye aye, Sir.”

  Steve crept to the rear of the trailer again, peering around the corner. The men were still busy, but the officer suddenly raised his head, cocking it as if listening to a distant voice; then he whirled around.

  “A security patrol’s on the way! Back to the van with your samples, quick as you can!”

  His voice rang out loudly, clearly audible to Steve even at that distance. They must have someone watching the compound, he realized at once. He must have radioed a warning that the guards were heading this way.

  He watched in agonized frustration as the men in coveralls grabbed their toolboxes and raced after the officer towards the van. Their attention was fixed on their vehicle. Steve came to a sudden decision. He broke from behind the trailer and ran along the wall towards the warehouse office. He tried to move quietly, knowing his gray coverall would blend with the lower light levels around the edge of the floor, making him harder to see.

  He reached the office as the officer called, “Simmons, get those doors open!” A coverall-clad figure threw his toolbox into the van, then sprinted for the security panel as the others piled into the vehicle. The driver began to reverse it, turning the van to face the center of the doors where a gap would open. From far in the distance came the faint wail of a siren.

  Steve didn’t hesitate. He wrenched the office door open. Its hinges squealed as badly as they had the first time he’d used it, and the officer, halfway into the front passenger seat of the van, heard them. He whipped his head around and gaped. Steve ignored him as he leapt for the control panel a couple of meters inside the door and stabbed at the ‘Emergency’ switch with his finger. A red light began to blink monotonously as a message flashed in a display above the switch, ‘EMERGENCY MODE – AUXILIARY PANELS LOCKED OUT’.

  Steve whirled around and ran back to the door. As he got there, Simmons reached the security panel at the door, frantically – and fruitlessly – trying to enter commands. He turned and yelled to the officer, “Sir, it’s not working!” Outside, the sound of the siren was drawing rapidly nearer.

  The officer half-staggered, half-fell from the front door of the van, and hastily recovered his balance as he stared at Steve. “You! Whoeve
r you are! I’m a Commander, dammit! Stand to attention when I talk to you! What the hell d’you think you’re doing?”

  Steve remained half-crouched in the doorway, ready for action. “Sir,” he called, “you can explain yourself to the security patrol, and to BuSec when they get here. You’re in a restricted area without authorization. I’m Junior Lieutenant Maxwell of AIU, and I’m acting on the instructions of my superiors.”

  “Like hell! I outrank you! Stand down! That’s an order!” As he spoke, the other two coverall-clad men hurriedly climbed out of the van, glancing towards their comrade by the security panel.

  Steve shook his head. “Sorry, Sir. Like I said, I’m acting under orders. You’ll have to explain yourself to the security people. My boss has already alerted them. I’m sure he, and they, will be very interested to hear what you have to say.”

  The sirens wound down outside the doors, and Steve heard footsteps running towards the external control panel. He knew the security patrol would have an override remote control unit, allowing them to use it even if the internal console had locked it out. He added, “The game’s up. You know you’ve got no right to be here, and you can’t fight your way clear. Give it up!”

  The Commander’s shoulders slumped, but he made a last attempt. “W – we just entered the wrong warehouse, that’s all! We were on our way to another one, and came in here by mistake!”

  “Nice try, Sir, but in that case, how did you know our security code? Our sensor records will show you arriving, and I witnessed what you did after that. If this was the ‘wrong warehouse’, you sure had a funny way of showing that by checking out what was inside the way you did.”

  The doors began to slide open. Two men were silhouetted in the widening gap, carbines pointed into the interior. More spread out behind them. One called, “Everyone stand still! This is Security. You’re all under arrest!”

  Steve raised his voice. “Come ahead, Security! I’m Junior Lieutenant Maxwell. You should have been informed about me. These four men are to be taken into custody pending the arrival of senior officers from AIU and BuSec. There may be another observer somewhere nearby – they were warned when you left the guardhouse on your way here.”