by Troy Denning
“That way,” she said. “Upstairs.”
CHAPTER 9
* * *
* * *
2005 hours, December 13, 2553 (military calendar)
Unidentified Turaco, Salvation Base
Moon Taram, Pydoryn Planetary System, Shaps System
A distant clang sounded from somewhere outside the Turaco, and Olivia shifted her attention to the security feed above the cramped engineering station. The screen had been divided into four quadrants—none of them showing the Stolen Faith, which was most likely the source of the noise.
“Keep that Mudoat starsloop on-screen,” Olivia said. “Don’t make me tell you again.”
“Would that be a threat?” The AI called herself Argie, and she had been a steady source of frustration since Olivia used an ONI override code to board the Turaco. “Because you don’t have that authority.”
“I do now.” Olivia reached down beside her knees and raised the two switch guards on the cabinet face. “If I can bypass ship’s security, I can handle a system restore.”
“And wipe the log data you’ve been trying to access?” Argie countered. “You wouldn’t do that.”
Olivia shrugged. “Sure I would,” she said. “You have me locked out anyway, and you’re getting on my nerves. What’s a craft this size doing with a smart AI in the first place?”
“A postproduction upgrade.”
“Then you’re a Dark Moon construct?”
Argie hesitated a full half second. “I’m not at liberty to reveal that.”
Olivia smiled. “You just did.”
While searching for the Turaco’s name and transponder code, Olivia had come across a data file identifying the owner of the craft as Dark Moon Enterprises—and that had sent her rifling through the rest of the files.
Dark Moon Enterprises was a shadowy private security firm that provided threat-management services to clients throughout the human-controlled portion of the galaxy. The Ferrets had tangled with the firm during a training exercise on Neos Atlantis, when a Dark Moon agent had attempted to expose the fact that the team was manned by Gamma Company Spartan-IIIs. The confrontation had sealed Dark Moon’s place on the ONI enemy list, so it definitely seemed odd to discover the firm operating a top-secret REAP-X Turaco.
When the Stolen Faith still did not appear on the security feed, Olivia placed her thumbs on the reset switches. “Last chance,” she said. “Three . . . two . . .”
“It won’t matter,” Argie said. “I’m system resident. I’ll still be here when—”
Olivia flipped the switches and actually felt happy as the cooling fans whined down and the display screens snapped into darkness. Even if Argie hadn’t been a Dark Moon construct, she had a condescending personality that made Olivia want to locate the AI’s data crystal and toss it into the fusion reactor.
Once the Turaco’s systems were down, Olivia left the engineering station and started forward. So far, Argie had done nothing to betray Olivia’s presence aboard the craft, even when Olivia had been forced to hide in an EVA suit while a Kig-Yar inspection party sniffed around. But the AI’s silence seemed as suspicious as everything else concerning the Turaco, and there was no sense taking chances.
When Olivia reached the flight deck, she dropped to her hands and knees, then peered through the bottom edge of the canopy. The Stolen Faith remained where it had been sitting for more than five hours now, surrounded by a couple hundred Keepers. About three-quarters were Jiralhanae warriors waiting to attack the “pirates” they wrongly assumed to be holed up inside the vessel. But there were also dozens of Keeper mechanics working from scaffolds, using laser torches to cautiously cut their way into the starsloop.
Plasma torches would have been faster, but using them would have been like hitting the vessel with an artillery barrage. The spike of superheated gas would have ignited its interior atmosphere and quite possibly triggered a catastrophic explosion. Apparently, that was not a risk the Keepers wanted to take with a bunch of thermonuclear warheads aboard.
After a moment, Olivia spotted the source of the clang she had heard earlier. A Kig-Yar crew near the front of the starsloop had finally managed to slice a chunk out of the vessel’s nanolaminate armor and open a two-by-three-meter breach about where the galley should be. The edges of the hole were still smoking and glowing star-bright, but a team of Jiralhanae in blue-and-gold battle armor stood at the foot of the scaffolding, their postures tense as they waited for the opening to cool enough to risk squeezing past.
That nanolaminate armor was tough stuff. It had taken the Keepers almost twice as long as expected to cut through the starsloop’s hull—and that was a good thing, given that the rest of the Ferret team was now four and a half hours overdue.
Olivia took a moment to glance around the spaceport, studying the grotto mouths where she had last seen her teammates, but saw nothing to indicate their return was imminent. On the other hand, she found no evidence suggesting the Turaco crew would be returning anytime soon either.
Olivia made a clucking sound in her throat, activating the microphone in her collar, and waited for a replying click. When none came, she looked back toward the Stolen Faith. The torch crew had begun to spray water on the hot edges of the breach. It would not be long before a squad of Jiralhanae entered the vessel and confirmed the deaths of the first boarding party—as well as that of Sarch and her crew.
Olivia ducked back down and retreated toward the engineering station. Time was running out. She had to make contact with the rest of her team—or continue the mission alone.
CHAPTER 10
* * *
* * *
2027 hours, December 13, 2553 (military calendar)
ONI Sahara-class Prowler Silent Joe
Orbital Approach, Planet Pydoryn, Shaps System
The Ferret team was in trouble. Fred-104 knew that the second he entered the situation room and saw the swarm of bandits on the Silent Joe’s tactical holograph. There had to be fifty designator symbols, arrayed in a triple-layer defensive sphere around the moon Taram.
Stepping through the door behind Fred, Kelly-087 whistled, then spoke over Blue Team’s secure TEAMCOM channel. “Yeah, the Keepers were expecting us.”
“You think so?” Linda-058 asked, bringing up the rear. “This is bad. Very bad.”
Fred said nothing. He had been the one who’d urged Admiral Osman to continue the Ferrets’ mission even after SIGINT suggested the Keepers were anticipating an ONI infiltration attempt. But he hadn’t expected an entire battle fleet to be waiting when the Silent Joe arrived.
Fred led the way over to the tactical holograph. Admiral Osman had been called away by other duties and was no longer aboard the Silent Joe, so he saluted the senior officer present, Captain Ewen.
“You wanted to see us, sir?”
“I did.” Ewen returned the salute, then motioned Fred and the other members of Blue Team to take a place at the holodisplay. “As you can see, we have problems.”
“I’d call them obstacles,” Fred said. “And obstacles can be bypassed—especially if we move quickly.”
The hint of a smile flashed across Ewen’s long face, but when he spoke, his voice was stern. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Lieutenant. But I didn’t interrupt your deployment so you could give me a pep talk. Your mission has changed. In fact, it may be canceled.”
Fred turned to face Ewen full on. Blue Team had already been aboard the Owl and ready to launch when the captain summoned them to the situation room, so he was in full Mjolnir and in no mood to stand down.
“If that’s a joke, sir, you need to work on your timing.”
Ewen’s face reddened. He thrust his arm into the holograph, penetrating the sphere of enemy symbols and nearly touching the yellow orb of Taram.
“Does that look like a joke to you, Lieutenant?”
“It doesn’t look like a reason to cancel the mission,” Fred said. “If this were easy, you wouldn’t need Spartans.”
Kelly�
��s voice sounded inside his helmet. “You’re missing his point, Fred. The Keepers aren’t just prepared—they’re waiting.”
“Yes, precisely,” Linda said, also over TEAMCOM. “They know we’re coming.”
Even as Kelly and Linda were speaking to Fred privately, Ewen continued to address him openly.
“Thanks for pointing that out.” The captain’s tone was sour. “I guess I wouldn’t know what the hell Spartans were without you to set me straight.”
“You have clearly irritated your superior officer,” Damon said, sharing his observation over the Spartans’ TEAMCOM. “Protocol dictates that you apologize.”
“Yes,” Linda said. “Do it now.”
“Relax, both of you,” Fred hissed. “I’ve got this.”
Ewen frowned. “Got what, Spartan?”
“Got you, sir,” Fred said quickly. “I mean, I understand your concerns. You’re assuming the Ferrets were captured and gave up the rescue plan under interrogation.”
Ewen’s face softened. “It’s more complicated than that.” He nodded across the holograph to Anki Hersh—the Silent Joe’s senior intelligence analyst—and said, “Play it for him.”
“Yes, sir.” The tiny brunette began to tap the tacpad on her forearm. “I’ll bring it right up.”
“Bring what up?” Fred asked.
Still tapping, Hersh said, “As soon as we emerged from slipspace, SIGINT downloaded the backlogged intelligence from the spy gnats that Ash-G099 planted aboard the Stolen Faith.”
Fred had a sinking feeling. “The ostanalus got them?”
“No,” Hersh replied. “The Ferret team anticipated the gas attack and took control of the Stolen Faith, much as you predicted. But on approach to Taram, the Faith was boarded by a force of Keepers.”
She gave her tacpad a final tap, and an unfamiliar female voice began to issue from a ceiling speaker.
“Just give me the arming codes.” The woman’s voice was dry and firm. “We’ll take care of the rest.”
“And what do we get out of it?” This voice belonged to Veta Lopis, who sounded as calm and cocky as ever. “The Stolen Faith and safe passage out of the system?”
“Nice try,” the Keeper woman replied. “But even if I could sell it to the dokab, I’ve made my feelings clear about letting you loose knowing the location of Salvation Base.”
“So what’s your offer?” It was Mark-G313 who asked this.
“Your lives,” the Keeper woman replied. “Unless I decide you’re ONI, of course. If you’re ONI, Castor is just going to rip the codes right out of you with his bare hands.”
The recording stopped, and Hersh said, “Not all of our intercepts were that clear. But we know from an earlier exchange that Inspector Lopis claimed the Havoks on board had already been sold to the Banished. She also claimed that, unless her team was allowed to make delivery, a Banished fleet would show up looking for their cargo.”
Fred waved his hand at the holograph. “Then that mess isn’t even for us,” he said. “It’s for the Banished.”
“That’s the current thinking,” Captain Ewen replied. “We’re assuming Lopis was trying to sell a cover that would get her team onto Taram in one piece.”
“Makes sense,” Fred said. “If the Keepers thought there was a Banished assault coming, they’d want to interrogate the people bringing it down on their heads.”
Ewen nodded in agreement. “Lopis was making the best of a bad situation.”
“Then I don’t see why you’re delaying our deployment,” Fred said. “Everything we know so far suggests the Ferrets are still alive.”
“That’s not the only criteria.” Ewen’s tone grew steely. “And you know it.”
A soft clatter sounded behind Fred, with Kelly and Linda signaling their displeasure by deliberately making noise. He extended three fingers toward the deck, signaling them to stand down. Captain Ewen was right, and Fred did know it. Like any clandestine ops team, the Ferrets were expendable. If they had gotten themselves in too deep . . . well, the Silent Joe was not a rescue ship, and Blue Team was not a rescue unit.
“Fair enough,” Fred said. “But Veta Lopis is the most stubborn woman I know, and she has a trio of Spartan-IIIs backing her up. If the Ferrets are still alive, they’re still on mission.”
“I agree,” Ewen said. “And I wish I could assume that.”
“What’s standing in your way?”
“SIGINT.” Ewen looked back across the holograph to Anki Hersh. “Anything new?”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid not, sir.”
“Then go ahead.”
Hersh reached for her tacpad again. “This is from the 2020 microburst, shortly before your Owl launch was aborted.” She tapped a key, at the same time adding, “It’s translated from the Jiralhanae.”
A deep, gravelly voice issued from the overhead speaker. “The gas killed them all? There are no survivors?”
“None, Dokab,” a second voice answered. “We searched the entire vessel. The only living thing we found are these midges.”
“Midges?” the dokab replied. “Let me see that.”
The recording ended in a crackle.
“We suspect the ‘midge’ was one of our spy gnats,” Hersh said. “The next microburst contained several feeds that ended the same way.”
“So the Keepers know we’re listening.” Fred turned back to Captain Ewen. “If that’s all you’re worried about—”
“It isn’t,” Ewen said, interrupting. “The feeds in the previous microbursts were filled with gasps and wails. Five hours before that, we have the same thing—about two minutes after the Ferrets are secured for disembarking.”
“So you think . . . what?” Fred asked. “That the Ferrets killed themselves to avoid interrogation?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Ewen admitted. “But it’s pretty damn clear something happened. That ship was on the pad and filled with ostanalus for five hours.”
“With no real indication that the Ferrets were killed.”
“Or that they survived,” Ewen countered. He paused, then added, “And there hasn’t been an extraction signal.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re dead,” Kelly said, stepping to Fred’s side. Although her voice was calm and her expression hidden behind the half-bubble faceplate of her EVA Mjolnir power armor, Fred could tell by the way her hips were cocked that she was losing patience with Ewen’s caution. “Sir.”
Ewen’s eyes flashed at the sarcasm in her final salutation, but when he spoke, his tone remained even.
“You’re missing the point, Spartan. We don’t know whether the Ferrets made it, and we have no reason to believe they’ve located Admiral Tuwa’s family.”
Kelly’s shoulders came back to level. “I understand that, sir, but—”
Ewen cut her off with a raised hand. “But we do know that one of the Keeper’s most important dokabs is on that base,” he said. “In fact, we know that, as of seven minutes ago, he was aboard the Stolen Faith. Do you see where I’m going with this?”
“I am sorry,” Damon said inside Fred’s helmet. “I know how fond you were of Inspector Lopis and her Ferrets.”
Fred didn’t need to ask the AI to explain. Their mission had two objectives—rescue Admiral Tuwa’s family and retaliate for her assassination. The Silent Joe carried a full complement of Shiva nuclear missiles, and since the Shivas could be configured for standoff delivery against a surface target, they were clearly an efficient means of achieving the second objective.
“You’re going to launch against Salvation Base,” Fred said.
“I’m leaning toward it,” Ewen replied. “But I’ve never been dirtside on one of these missions, so I wanted to hear from someone who’s been down there tossing rocks.”
“I am sure we have made our opinions clear,” Linda said, speaking from between Fred and Kelly. “I hope you will take them seriously.”
“I wouldn’t have called you up here if I didn’t,” Ewen said. He turned
back to the tactical holograph and fell silent. “But you know how this works. The Ferrets have been on the ground for five hours, and all our intel suggests the operation is a bust. I can’t risk a hundred and twenty souls on the off chance they’re still alive. Hell, I couldn’t do that if I knew they were.”
“I understand your position,” Fred said. He glanced over at Kelly and Linda and used a hand code to signal them to hold fast, then added, “We all do.”
The color drained from Ewen’s face. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” He turned to the executive officer standing at his side, then said, “Ready all Shivas.”
“Very well, sir.” She touched a button on her headset, then said, “Missile room, ready all Shivas. Prepare to receive targeting data.”
Fred waited until the executive officer had stepped over to firing control, then spoke to Ewen’s back. “Captain, I know you’d like to continue the mission as much as we would.”
“Of course.” Ewen turned around. “I may be an officer of the line, but I’m not a coldhearted bastard.”
“Have you considered pinging their TEAMCOM?”
Ewen’s eyes widened. “This is a stealth ship, Lieutenant.”
“I’m aware of that,” Fred said. Prowlers normally avoided transmitting anything in a theater of operations, as even the slightest electronic emission could light up like a beacon on enemy sensors. “But if you’re going to launch the Shivas, what’s there to lose? It’ll be shoot-and-scoot anyway.”
“Not quite. We’ll remain on-station long enough to confirm strike success.” Ewen remained quiet for a moment, then looked through the tactical holograph toward Anki Hersh. “Lieutenant, what does SIGINT think?”