Traitor's Duty

by Richard Tongue

   “I am fully aware that many of you have strong feelings about the Cabal, and I admit that I share them. Nevertheless, I cannot permit our Confederation to be forced into war against the will of the Senate. Those of you who left Sol on Alamo to come out here will have seen some of the things happening back home.”

   He took a deep breath, and said, “I must inform you that in my opinion, based on the testimony I have received, that this action is the result of a rogue element in our own Fleet, as well as certain Senators and Governors. There is an old saying that for evil to triumph, good must stay silent, and in this case I cannot remain silent. My intention is to return home, to report what has taken place out here, including the actions of Lieutenant-Captain Rogers, an admitted member of this conspiracy, and insist that the appropriate action is taken.”

   Everyone on the bridge was watching him as he continued, “This action, I am well aware, could be construed as mutiny, even treason. You have all followed me this far, but in all good conscience I cannot ask you to go any further. If you wish to leave the ship now, make your way to one of the escape pods and bail out; one of the ships in the task force will pick you up shortly, and I will enter your actions into the log. You have three minutes and fifty-one seconds. That is all.”

   Looking around the bridge, he said, “That includes all of you.”

   “Sir,” Steele said, turning from the helm, “I think we all made our decision when Alamo left Sol. We’re all already guilty of quite a few charges already, and I don’t think this can really make things much worse.”

   “One escape pod launching, sir,” Ryder said, looking at her console. “Atkinson, Spaceman Second Class, from the sensor decks.” She turned to Marshall, and said, “We can manage without him.”

   “I guess we’ll have to,” Marshall replied.

   “Another now, sir,” Ryder added. “Two this time, Petty Officer Bugatsky and Spaceman First Hale. Tactical department.”

   “They’ve both got kids,” Caine said. “I think they only volunteered because they thought it’d get them home sooner.”

   “Hendecaspace in two minutes, Captain,” Steele said. Tapping a control, she spoke into an audio pickup, “Guidance to Crew. Stand by for dimensional transfer. Anyone wanting to get off should do so immediately.”

   “Steele,” Marshall said, an edge of sharpness in his voice, “No need for that. They’re entitled to make the choice. That’s why I told them before we left the system.”

   “You realize it’ll spread around the fleet,” Caine said.

   Shaking his head, Marshall replied, “No danger of that; I gave John specific orders on this. He’ll pick them up himself, and they’ll be placed in solitary confinement until all of this is over. As comfortable as he can make it, of course, but they won’t talk. None of them are communications or computer specialists, so I can’t see them sneaking past the security.”

   “That’s a bit tough on them, isn’t it,” she said.

   “Perhaps, but I don’t want to take any risks. We’re taking enough of them already just doing this.”

   “One minute to dimensional transfer,” Steele said. “All hands have reported in as ready for the jump.”

   “Thank you, Sub-Lieutenant.” He looked at the screen, one last look at Hades before it was enveloped by a blinding blue flash, and the stars winked out, exterior monitors disabled. Rising from his chair, he looked around the bridge, and said, “Thank you all for everything you have done today. Now we just have to get through the next twenty-eight days to get home.”

   The elevator doors slid open, and Logan stepped through, saying, “It’s what happens in nineteen days that worries me, skipper.”

   “Spitfire Station?”

   “We were able to bluff our way through the first time, but I know they were suspicious. This time I’m damn sure that there will be someone waiting for us.”

   Ryder nodded, and said, “I agree. There’s a strong chance that a task force will be mobilized.”

   “Nothing as obvious as that,” Logan replied. “They don’t want to publicly admit that we’ve gone rogue, and sending ships out to hunt us down would be an open admission that something is going on. We’re all still operating with one hand tied behind our backs.”

   “Then what?”

   “Sabotage, probably. Agents to try and infiltrate, some sort of excuse to get us off the ship. You’re going to have to watch them like a hawk, and I wouldn’t take anything on from the station. No fuel, no spares, nothing.”

   “We’ll have to watch them?” Caine said.

   “I won’t be there,” he replied. “I’m getting off at Spitfire Station.”

   “Logan, I think you’re in this deep enough that....,” Marshall began, but he held up his hand.

   “Lieutenant Esposito and I are going on ahead. There are plenty of civilian transports, and I shouldn’t have any trouble convincing one of them to let us head to Mars early. I’ll be on-planet a week before Alamo arrives, with any luck.”

   “And do what?” Caine asked. “If it was that simple, why come out here in the first place?”

   “I don’t know what I’ll end up doing, but I know that you are going to need some support. We can’t gamble on Orlova and Harper still being free, or even still being alive. I’ll make contact with the President and let them know you are on your way with the evidence, start preparing the ground for the big arrival.”

   “You seem to have all of this thought through,” Marshall said. “All the dots joined up.”

   “That’s as good a way of putting it as any,” he replied with a sigh.

   Standing up, Marshall said, “Come into my office,” in a tone that made it clear that he was giving an order, not a request. Logan followed him across the bridge and stepped in behind him, making for the other side at the desk before correcting himself.

   “I think I was beginning to get used to it,” he admitted. “Sorry.”

   “You did a good job.”

   “That was Ryder and Quinn, not me.”

   “Nevertheless, you had the good sense to let them get on with their job. Not everyone would have.”

   “Perhaps.”

   Looking up at him, Marshall asked, “None of this is new to you, is it?”

   “History always repeats itself, Captain. Only the names change.”

   “Tell me.”

   With a deep sigh, he said, “If you tell this to anyone else, I will deny it.”

   “I need to know, Logan. You’re one of the key people in this operation, and if there is any sort of a weakness, then I have to be aware of it.”

   “Who else are you going to send? You aren’t exactly overburdened with manpower.”

   “Talk, Logan.”

   He paused, nodded, and said, “I have been here before. The last time was fifteen years ago.”

   “The Revolt of the Colonels.”

   “You have to understand, Danny, that they were not bad men. Some of them were friends of mine. They genuinely thought they were doing the right thing, that the government had lost its way, that the people were being manipulated out of their freedoms.”

   “None of the details were ever released. Just that a dozen senior officers resigned in a single night, with some whispers that they had…”

   “They kidnapped the Provisional President and attempted to force him to hold a new election under their supervision, claiming that the previous one was flawed, that there was no way that the people would not have voted for their candidate.”

   “What?”

   Looking away, Logan said, “It was a damn close run thing, remember, and all the polls called it wrong. Davidson only won by three thousand votes. They didn’t believe it, and there were problems with that election.” He shook his head, and said, “We were still technically at war, though everyone knew it was over. Then there were the arguments against unification, and most of
the officers wanted Callisto to go its own way, rather than being shackled to Mars.”

   “None of this ever came out.”

   “Because the key people involved kept their heads, including the conspirators. We were able to infiltrate a strike team and take them out, force them to resign and leave public office. All but General Haskell, who shot himself rather than be captured.”

   “The record…”

   With a faint laugh, Logan said, “There’s an old Russian saying. That any death, ultimately, can be described as heart failure.”

   “I’m guessing you were in that strike team.”

   His eyes glassing over, Logan replied, “In a manner of speaking. I commanded it.”

   “Then you did what was necessary.”

   Slamming his hands on the desk, Logan said, “They were right!”

   “What?” Marshall replied, his face ashen.

   “The election was rigged. Their suspicions were correct. United Nations Intelligence hacked into our communications computers and logged five thousand plus votes, in an attempt to destabilize our new democracy.” Closing his eyes, he said, “The plan was to leak the news, to make it seem like we were rigging the system right from the start. Fortunately, we found out first.”

   Sitting back in his chair, Marshall said, “Then….”

   “As soon as we found out, about three months later, we managed to knock out the operatives involved. Davidson, to his credit, resigned as soon as he found out. Called a new election, using the signature of the peace treaty as cover. He wasn’t a bad man either. None of them were.” Looking up, he said, “That’s the curse of it, and the curse of these. These aren’t bad people, not most of them, anyway. They all think they are doing what was right, and by God, don’t we all. We all think that we know what is best for the future of mankind, and we’re going to force that on everyone else come what may, aren’t we!”

   “If you feel that way…”

   “I resigned, last time. Cleaned up the loose ends and burned my damn uniform, because I couldn’t wear it any more. Now I’m back, and the same mess has started again, and we’ve got to try and clean it up again.” His face fixed, he continued, “I’ll do my duty, Captain. I know how to do that, and I’m as big a hypocrite as the rest of them. Maybe I’m a little older.”

   “I’m sorry, Logan.”

   Shaking his head, the agent replied, “You didn’t cause this mess.”

   “If you want to part ways permanently at Spitfire, I'd understand.”

   “No,” he said. “I’m committed. Someone has to fix this.” Standing up, he said, “I’m going to go and get drunk. Have someone call me in the morning.”

   “Logan,” Marshall said. “You did the right thing.”

   “Yeah. Maybe if I tell myself that often enough it’ll even be true.”

  Chapter 12

   As they walked, Orlova swept the dust behind them with a piece of parachute, trying to conceal her trail. Increasingly she was aware that it wasn’t necessary; the particulate count in the air was rising rapidly, and her suit was having more and more trouble topping up its power with her shoulder solar array; a dust storm was beginning to rise, though all she could see of it with her eyes was a barely perceptible haze.

   Up ahead, she could make out the single, low dome, covered in carefully applied mud to prevent it appearing on any orbiting satellite; monitors could be bribed or hacked for long enough to put a base together, but it was madness to take a risk on such trickery forever. Old-fashioned camouflage still had its place, even in a world with full orbital surveillance.

   To her right, Harriet continued to trudge, occasionally looking around as though fearing that someone would jump out at them without any warning, snatching them from the desert and leaving no trace behind. Orlova was reasonably sure that they would be fine; certainly nothing would be coming after them in the air with a dust storm in progress, and they had hours of margin before they had to worry about something coming for them overland. Nevertheless, she could hardly argue with caution.

   She almost tripped over a hidden rut, a trail where trucks had been in the recent past, concealed using similar techniques. Hopefully that meant that they had transport on the base; risking calling out would be difficult, even if they agreed to it. Glancing up at the sky, she wondered who was watching her from orbit. The haze might be hiding her from Tarrant and his lackeys, but it was also going to hide her from her friends.

   The faint outline of an airlock was visible on the side of the dome nearest them. She could make out enough of it to recognize it as war surplus, one of the old prefabricated outposts that could be assembled in a day on almost any sort of environment. Hundreds of them were scattered across the Solar System, and more of the kits had been sold since the war. With a little luck, she’d be able to guess the layout.

   No sign of anyone coming out to meet them, which could mean that the base had been abandoned. There were still places where you could find failed, abandoned colonies, even after a century – sites where it had not been deemed worthwhile to do anything other than salvage spare parts and oxygen, leaving everything else in situ. Every year, some of the more familiar ones would be havens for teenagers on holiday from school, daring themselves to enter the forgotten relics of the first colonial boom.

   She waved her arm towards the door, reading the sensors. A trace of oxygen, outgassing from old equipment long past its best, a few micro-leaks that provided her with evidence that there was a safe environment inside, though that didn’t necessarily mean occupation. Reaching for the controls, she was immediately suspicious; there was no attempt at security. It was as though someone had invited her in, and if she’d had any other options, she’d have immediately declined. Pulling her pistol out of her holster, she tapped the control and stepped into the airlock, Harriet following.

   The inner door opened, and Orlova cautiously stepped out, a smile creeping across her face as a wall of green beckoned her forward, plans leaping out of the soil all around her, trenches for irrigation running from underground tanks, water sprays in the hot and humid air.

   “What is it?” Harriet said. “Crops?”

   Looking across as she pulled off her helmet, Orlova replied, “In a manner of speaking. Cannabis plants, by the look of it.”

   “Drugs?”

   “You think anyone would go to the trouble of setting up a drill into the ice layer to sell water? I figured it was probably something like this.” She looked around, then said, “Though I’d have expected someone to be inside, at least. You could run this place man-tended, just the occasional visit by someone to tend the machinery, but security would suggest that there would be a guard at all times.”

   “Quite right, Lieutenant,” a gruff voice said, echoing through the dome. “Very astute of you to find our little operation, and my compliments on your victory in the dogfight. We had an excellent view from down there; perhaps when all of this is done we can send you a copy of our recordings. You can reply, you’re only twenty feet from an audio pickup.”

   “I take it you know who we are, then,” Orlova said.

   “We watch the news out here,” the voice replied. “Enough to know that you are of significant value. There is a substantial reward for information leading to your capture, and I suspect I would get even more if I was to hand you over.”

   Looking at Harriet, Orlova replied, “I need to get to the Ragnarok Embassy as quickly as possible. If you were to assist me, I’m certain that a reward of some sort would be provided.”

   “Too thin,” the voice replied, “and you can’t give us the reward we want. Cash is irrelevant; amnesty would be better.”

   “And you think you can trust the Security Services?” Harriet asked. “There are dozens of eager detectives who would love to bust this operation. I’m certain there must be more than just this going on.”

   “Let’s be blunt,” Orlova replied. “What
you really want is a license to operate without government supervision. Hell, some of your bosses probably think that you might be able to talk someone into legalization, as crazy as it seems.”

   “No,” the voice replied. “That would give opportunities for competition that we haven’t any interest in. We’ll settle for an understanding that we can continue our work without opposition. You’ll find a pair of sleeping bags on the far side of the dome, and rations for a couple of days. There are plenty of water butts around, and it’s quite pure. Nothing but the best. You will be well cared for.”

   “Valuable property,” Orlova said. “Do you really think that anyone will go along with this?”

   “It isn’t my job to worry about matters such as that,” the voice replied. “All I do is obey orders. And before you suggest that I might be personally recompensed for helping you, I will assure you that I have no wish to die suddenly, and that I will certainly receive a large portion of any reward money.”

   “There will be a search team, you know,” Orlova replied. “Both sides are going to be hunting us down.”

   “I’m sure that we can evade their detection. We always have in the past. I suggest that you head over to the sleeping bags, and rest assured that everything you say will be overheard. If there is anything you need, just talk to the plants,” the voice said with a chuckle, “and we’ll see that it is provided, within reason, naturally. As I said, my orders are to keep you safe. And secure.”

   With a shrug, Orlova walked to the far side of the dome, taking care to remain on the well-marked paths, Harriet following her with a resentful stare at the loudspeaker on the ceiling. The promised equipment was there, but it was still going to be an uncomfortable stay in the oppressive heat, to say nothing of the periodic spray of water from above, simulated rain to keep the plants happy and them miserable.

   Harriet dropped to the ground, perching on one of the sleeping bags, and asked, “What do you think?”