by Rob Buckman
“Take us down to the yards at moon base three, please.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered, more puzzled than ever.
The rest of the trip was completed in silence, except for Scott humming softly under his breath. She landed as gently as a snowflake in the center of the pad on the crater wall, and waited for the ramp to slowly retract the shuttle through the airlock. The moment the panel indicated green, she hit the hatch button. With an ear-shattering crash, the door to the flight deck slammed shut, and the decompression alarm went off.
“Shit! The airlock’s empty!” Kat yelled, feeling cold-fear sweat pop out on her forehead.
Before she could reach for the emergency oxygen mask, Scott snapped, “Here, put this on,” handing her an emergency-breathing mask from the duffel bag he’d brought aboard. He settled it over her head, laying the tank on her lap. She leaned forward so he could snap the harness behind her head, and as she looked up, she saw the flight-deck air indicator flashing yellow, then red, showing no air in this cabin either. She looked quickly at Scott, seeing him place a second mask over his head and gasp for air. He leaned forward, and she closed the harness behind his head as well. The moment she reached for the comm switch he grabbed her hand and shook his head, indicating she shouldn’t. Crooking his finger, he stood, seeing her pull Lady Jane out of her slot as he opened the door to the flight deck. Now the pressure between the two sections was equalized; the door slid open easily, as did the inside and outside airlock doors. He forced her to run with him across the shuttle bay and into the airlock, hitting the control to flood it the moment the outer door sealed. A few seconds later, an explosion rocked the place, but it didn’t interrupt the cycle. The panel showed green, but even before he could touch the handle it spun, and the door was ripped open.
“Are you two all right?” Devon Hawking yelled, panic on his face, as Scott and Kat pulled off their helmets.
“Yes, we’re all right, what happened?” Scott demanded, a little shaken up, even though he’d half expected something like this might happen. This was just a little too close for comfort. Even so, he had to carry on to any unseen watchers as if this wasn’t something out of the ordinary.
“I don’t know, the airlock controls malfunctioned, and it indicated that it was full of air when it wasn’t, but why did you have your radio off, we tried to warn you but there was no answer?” He looked at Scott, then Kat for an explanation.
“My fault, I told the pilot to leave it off,” he explained, looking hard at Kat. “I didn’t want some fool calling me up with some excuse why I couldn’t go on my fishing trip.”
“That’s right,” Kat said, still unsettled. “The admiral has been looking forward to the trip for a long time, so I did what he ordered.”
“But your shuttle! It exploded.”
“Yes, it did. I wonder why,” Scott muttered, looking suitably perplexed. “Will you have your engineers look at it, see if they can figure out why?” Thankfully he was holding onto the bag and his fake fishing rods, so no one could see he hands shaking.
“Yes, yes I suppose so, not that there’s much to look at,” Devon commented, looking at the viewer. “But what about the fishing trip, it’s off of course.”
“No way!” Scott snapped. “I’m not letting a little thing like a fuel cell malfunction stop me. Find me another shuttle.” Without knowing who might be watching, he had to play it like it was nothing but a malfunction. Having people try to kill him wasn’t unusual, scary yes but he could handle that. He pushed the fear he felt at how close they’d come to killing Kat to the back of his mind, and kept his face impassive.
“But, but, but—”
“No buts, we’re going, so hustle that shuttle up here.”
“There should be one in bay three sir,” a technician standing by put in. “It was a routine flight downstairs.”
“Good idea, we’ll take it. Which way to the shuttle hangar?”
“Down this passageway, and take the elevator down two floors, sir,” the tech explained.
“Excellent, let’s go.”
Scott grabbed the arm of his two perplexed companions and took off down the hallway, whistling softly. He didn’t say anything until they exited the elevator in the shuttle hangar. Then he said, “Tell you what, instead of upsetting the shuttle schedule, why don’t we find a spare shuttle and Kat can fly us down.”
“Well, I suppose we can ask operations for a shuttle,” Devon said, not sure what was going on.
“No, no, no. You have the authorization to use anything up here, right?”
“Well … yes.”
“Kat, go find us something that flies and can hold six people. Have it back here in five minutes or less.”
“Aye-aye, Admiral.” Kat didn’t need someone to hit her in the head with a baseball bat to know something was going on, something that Scott wasn’t willing to talk about.
“We’re wasting valuable fishing time standing around here talking, now move.” Kat didn’t argue, just took off running.
“Which way to the nearest launch pad, Devon?”
“That way,” he said, pointing down the hangar. “Follow me,” he huffed, giving up trying to figure this out.
They trotted over to the area indicated, and in three minutes flat, Kat gently maneuvered an old shuttlecraft into the launch bay. The moment it touched down, she opened the side hatch, and they piled aboard.
“Flight control wants to know my authorization code,” she said, “what do I tell them?”
“Here, let me take it.” Devon dropped into the second seat. Whatever he told them, the red launch light started flashing, warning anyone in the tube that a craft was about to come screaming at them at seven feet per second. All along the two hundred-foot length of the launch tunnel were maintenance alcoves, so people could get out of the way quickly and seal themselves in for the duration of the launch. Less than a minute later, the tunnel’s walls rushed by them as they took off.
“Now where, Scott?” Kat said.
“Alpha base, and pronto. Don’t spare the horsepower, and if you get a traffic ticket for exceeding the speed limit, I’ll pay.” It was a gentle hint not to take any notice of traffic control or orbital protocol.
Kat plugged Lady Jane into the receiver slot, and took the old shuttle down like a star-fighter. She left Lady Jane to try to explain things to traffic control. At 0430, she landed on the pad at Alpha base and cracked the side hatch. Scott was waiting, and almost jerked Brock, Pete, and Hiro aboard, slamming the door behind them. All three quickly buckled in, since the craft was lifting off even before Scott had dogged the door.
“What the hell is the hurry, Scott!” Brock demanded. “Christ, it’s not as if the fish are going anywhere!”
“We’re fifteen minutes late already, and you know how I hate to lose that first fish,” he commented. “Did you bring the supplies, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, Admiral-san, everything you asked for, plus a few extra items just in case,” Hiro answered, lifting a needle pistol out of the bag.
“Good man, always thinking ahead.” Scott dropped into a seat next to Brock, a smile on his face. “Did you bring enough food, I’m hungry.”
“I brought enough to feed a damn army!” Brock snapped, still grouchy. “Now—”
“Will I tell you where my secret fishing spot is? No way, you find your own. Excuse me while I whisper the secret to Kat.” With that he stood, and moving down the single-deck cabin he came up behind Kat and whispered in her ear, then kissed her on top of her head.
“Right, skipper, we’re on our way,” she said with a nod, heading the nose for the ground.
“A bit low aren’t we?” Pete observed as Scott came back and sat down.
“Are we?” Scott said. Kat was flying nap of the earth to avoid ground radar. “I hadn’t noticed,” he said, his nose in the hamper Brock brought with him. He spotted one of the four thermos jugs inside and pulled one out. “Aar, coffee,” he exclaimed, unscrewing the top.
; “Figured you’d want coffee first thing, so I brought plenty.”
“Smart thinking, now I know why I promoted you,” Scott said, pouring himself a cup. None of the others wanted any; they were too nervous to do anything but hold onto the edge of their seats while Kat dodged between trees and around crags. Sixteen and a half minutes later, she landed the shuttle on an open patch in some trees at a place once called Mahia Peninsula, and cracked the hatch.
“All right everyone, let’s go fishing,” Scott announced, and they followed him outside.
He walked over to the trees, putting a finger to his lips. He then pointed at the bag Hiro was carrying and nodded. Hiro nodded in reply, set it on the ground and opened it. Scott snapped his fingers, and started undressing, pointing to Kat, the bag, and then the trees. With a frown, she stepped forward, and Hiro handed her some clothes, and she understood. As she walked past, Scott pointed at the clothes she wore, her wrist communicator, and Lady Jane, wagging his finger to indicate she shouldn’t bring them. Kat nodded and vanished into the trees.
So did the others, as one by one they stepped forward, taking the folded clothes from Hiro. After they’d changed, Scott carefully inspected each, to make sure none of them had forgotten to take something off. Brock and Pete had; they both still wore their Saint Christopher medals. Scott pointed and wagged his finger, watching as they reluctantly took them off and placed them with the rest of their things.
Kat came back, and he inspected her, nodding. Next, he indicated the hamper, motioning for Brock to unpack it. He looked though the packages of sandwiches, placing them in a woven, natural-fiber bag Hiro held out for him. He added the fruit and the bottles of wine and brandy into the bag, and gave each of them a thermos to carry. That done, he motioned them to follow, and took off toward the beach. They walked for ten minutes until he found a place he liked near some rocks, the surf crashing onto them to mask any long-distance sound pick-up. At last he sat down on a flat rock and unscrewed the top of the flask to pour himself another cup.
“Thank Christ for that. I think we’re safe now,” he announced, breathing a sigh of relief. He clenched his hand a few times to stop them shaking.
“Safe from what, Scott!” Brock said. “What the hell is going on?”
“Spies, Gunny, spies.”
“I don’t get it, why all this?” Brock held onto the bright-colored silk kimono, the only garment any of them were wearing, including underwear.
“A short while ago, I read a report from you, Pete, that you’d caught some spies. We all know about the constant acts of sabotage, as well as the theft of weapons and such. This morning, someone sabotaged my shuttlecraft.” Now he had their undivided attention. “If I’d been standing in the doorway as I usually do when it landed at moon base, I would’ve been sucked out into a shuttle bay devoid of air, even though the door indicator said there was air, and open.”
“Good god!” Brock and Pete exclaimed. Hiro just nodded.
“That was the first plan. The second was, if I wasn’t in the main cabin, and sitting in the second seat, they knew the flight deck door would automatically close and seal. Whoever it was had rigged it so the cabin would slowly decompress, and we’d be forced to don emergency breathing gear. Or if we were wearing spacesuits, plug into the air supply. We didn’t, because I’d brought two emergency breather packs with me. But I suspect if we’d used the air supply, the bottles would be empty, full of gas, or filled with vacuum. Either one, not a nice death.”
Brock said, “Shit! This gets worse by the minute.”
“Scott hasn’t told you about the shuttle exploding twenty-five seconds after we got out yet,” Kat murmured. Brock, Pete, and Hiro’s faces paled, each thinking how close Scott, and Kat, had come to being killed.
“The explosion had two objectives in mind,” Scott said. “One, to destroy evidence of the crime, and two, to kill us if the other two methods failed.”
Brock held out a hand. “Pass that coffee over, Scott, I think I need a cup.”
“Make that two,” Pete said, looking a little unsettled by the news, as they all were.
“Make that three, if you don’t mind,” Kat said.
“Could I have a drop of that brandy?” Devon asked.
Scott passed him the bottle, and looked at Hiro, who said, “With the honorable Admiral’s permission, I should like a small amount of the brandy, please.”
“You can have a large belt if you want, but cut the honorable Admiral BS out. As of this moment it’s Scott, understand?”
Hiro bowed. “Yes, Scott-san, I understand, and thank you.” Hiro felt his chest tighten with pride. He was samurai, and he now had a lord and master to serve, one he would give his life for if necessary. But first, there was one thing he had to do.
“So explain the clothes, and how’d Hiro know to bring them?” Brock asked, taking a long drink of his brandy-laced coffee.
“To do that, I have to backtrack to the battle with the aliens.” Scott added a slug of brandy to his coffee and passed the bottle around. “I doubt you’ve had time to read any of the reports, but I’ll tell you the things that aren’t in them. Such as … within minutes of the start of the battle, we took a hit on the port side. The objective was to take out most of the point defense system on that side. I suspect the one meant for the starboard side never made it. Anyway, after that, they launched something that turned out to be an updated version of a torpedo bomber. Same idea, same objective, except these were meant to take out critical areas, not sink the ship.”
He stopped for a moment, refilling his cup with coffee and brandy. “We took two hits in rapid succession at the base of the superstructure. The third one missed its target, but the fourth one hit, almost taking out the bridge and CIC.”
“Not random chance, I suppose?” Pete asked.
“We ruled that out. After that, it brought up the question of how they knew where those two areas were: unlike the old surface ships, we didn’t want them in vulnerable area, thanks to Devon here.”
“It was an obvious defect,” Devon said. “On many occasions, capital ships were put out of action when the enemy, either accidentally, or deliberately, took out the bridge.”
Scott nodded. “I won’t ask the question of how many people knew of the design change. The list would be so long, it would be meaningless. What bothered me was how the aliens got the information, and when. Also, how they’d know I’d be there, or on the shuttle.”
“I follow so far, but why the clothes?” Brock asked again.
“I think I can answer that,” Pete put in. “We don’t yet know all the technology the rest of the world has. We have no way of knowing if they can implant listening devices in our clothes, or uniforms, Saint Christopher medals, computer memory crystals like our wrist communicators, or in Lady Jane, for that matter.”
“This is the conclusion my sensei came to, Scott-san,” Hiro added.
“Smart lady.” He was glad the old lady figured it out, even with the limited information he’d given her.
“She deduced this from the list you sent, plus your odd behavior.”
“So where do we go from here?” Brock demanded.
“That was the reason for the fishing trip. I had to get us away from anything and everything that might conceivably contain a listening device. Now the floor is open to suggestions.”
“We have a very difficult problem ahead of us if we cannot discuss this openly,” Hiro said.
“That’s for sure!” Kat said. “It means we can’t even talk to each other in bed!” People always said things in bed they wouldn’t normally say in public. The thought that one of those perverts in the World Government was listening in on her most private moments outraged her even more. Now it was personal.
“With respect, Scott-san,” Hiro said with a small bow. “Our main task is to learn the identity of the person who is the end recipient of this information, not the spy.” All four stopped and looked at him, realizing his was the obvious conclusion.
&
nbsp; “So, go on, you have the floor,” Brock said.
“I feel we can rule out any of the people who came with you in cold sleep, yes?” Hiro raised one eyebrow in query.
“Yes,” Scott said. “None of them would have any reason to give secrets to the aliens, or the local government. And I doubt there’s any inducement anyone could come up to make them betray us.”
“So, we then come to the people of England.”
The group quieted in thought, until Scott said, shaking his head, “No. This goes back before we contacted them. The attack on Alpha base, remember?”
“Yeah. Those suckers were trying to nail your butt even then, Scott,” Pete commented.
“So, we come to the people of my island, the people from Japan.”