Starcruiser Polaris: Blood of Patriots

by Richard Tongue

   “Oddly enough, I don't think I got around to that part of the mission briefing,” he replied. “Though a lightning rod isn't half as good at its job if it knows the bolt is coming.”

   The two of them carefully picked their way towards the side elevator, allowing Voronova to draw all the attention, Kani wincing as she almost pushed a stout maintenance technician over in her simulated fury. They managed to reach the exit as a cluster of ColSec guards moved towards their rogue comrade, and the doors opened almost at once, whisking them towards their destination.

   “How far do you think she'll get?” Nguyen asked.

   Reaching for the elevator controls, Kani plugged in a datapad, tapping a sequence of instructions through a hidden loophole in the firewall, and replied, “Not very far. She's on her way down to the Underdeck. Whereupon there is going to be a brief malfunction in the elevator systems.” At Nguyen's approving nod, he added, “One of our people managed to get a job working in the programming team when they commissioned this place. He left us a few interesting legacies when he died.”

   The doors snapped open, and they walked into an opulent corridor, a laser scanner sweeping across them, a piece of security theater designed more to reassure the high-value tenants of the upper levels than to provide any actual protection. The muscle-clad figure standing at parade rest by the corridor looked them over with a faint sneer, as though able to sense that they were intruding somewhere they didn't belong, but allowed them to pass by with a curt nod.

   A room directory gave them Keranos' office, one of the larger suites on the level. As they walked along the corridor, a slight man wearing a well-fitting suit walked past, glancing briefly at the two of them before stepping into the elevator.

   With a quick glance down the corridor, Kani reached the door, his face dropping as he realized that the locks hadn't been engaged. He looked up at Nguyen and stepped inside, eyes widening as he looked at the carnage within. Keranos', his battered corpse sprawled on the floor by his desk, a hand reaching out from his remains. Blood was everywhere, on the walls, the carpet, splatters of crimson smeared across the room.

   “Terminal,” Kani said, and Nguyen raced to the wall monitor, clipping her hacking pad into place and firing up a series of intrusion programs, desperately slicing into the local database. Kani knelt down beside the body, frowning as he examined what was left of Keranos. Four shots from a high-velocity rifle, some sort of shaped charge bullets to cause maximum effect for minimum risk of a hull breach.

   He looked back at the door. Vacuum-tight, able to lock down the room in the event of a pressure leak in the corridor, which meant that it was soundproof. No way for anyone to hear the gunshots from outside. Glancing around the room, he looked for the security camera, the light dead. A professional hit, and with top of the line equipment. Hunting around the floor, he spotted a shiny object lying by one of the chairs. A bullet case. And Commonwealth issue, not Federation.

   “We've got to get out of here now,” Kani said, making for the door. “Hurry.”

   “I haven't got into the system yet,” Nguyen protested.

   “Never mind that. Leave it and go.”

   As he made for the exit, the door slid open, Saxon stepping inside, flanked by two guards, all of them armed with the ubiquitous sonic shotguns. She looked at the body of Keranos, at Nguyen standing at the terminal, and shook her head in mock disgust as one of her people raised a camera to record the scene, sweeping it across the room to catch the two agents at work.

   “I can't believe it,” she replied. “Killing a man at his desk, then stealing his data.”

   “You damned bitch,” Nguyen said.

   “Take them,” Saxon replied, gesturing her guards forward. “Don't worry. We're going to catch your accomplice, and you'll be up before the People's Magistrate in a matter of hours. On Sinaloa Station, we don't believe in making suspects wait to learn their fate for too long. By this time tomorrow, all three of you will be going for a nice walk out of one of the lateral airlocks. Too late to save this poor bastard, though.”

   “We didn't kill him, and you know it,” Kani said, inwardly cursing himself for his stupidity. “And we know more than a few things about you that will come out in the trial.”

   “You are assuming that you will be allowed to attend. Under the circumstances, I think we'll have to keep both of you dangerous criminals confined. We don't want to take any risks, do we. You'll have a chance to speak in open court, but I would remind you both that there are worse ways to die than having the pressure in an airlock slowly turned down.”

   “Dead is dead,” Nguyen said. “And I'll feel a lot happier if we have company.”

   “The word of two convicted murders against a highly respected ColSec officer?” Saxon replied. “I really don't think anything you can say will be of interest to anyone, do you?” Turning to one of her guards, she said, “Grab Dixon. Have him help you get these people into detention. Maximum security, isolation protocol, and absolutely no visitors. And if they so much as whisper a word, make sure that they are shot while trying to escape. Understand?”

   “Yes, ma'am,” he replied, gesturing at the two of them with his gun. “Move.”

   “We'll be avenged,” Kani warned. “You know that.”

   “I think not,” she said, shaking her head. “Are you going to follow my colleague, or are we going to have to call for three body bags today?”

   “While there's life, there's hope,” Nguyen said.

   “For about twenty-two hours,” Saxon replied, glancing at her watch. “While I'm thinking about it, any requests for your last meal? Our catering crews would appreciate it if you placed your orders now.”

   “Go to hell,” Kani said, quiet fury in his voice.

   “You first,” she replied, as the guards dragged them from the room.

  Chapter 6

   Hanoi slammed into her target system, the starfield snapping back into position on the viewscreen as the Tau drive disengaged, the dimensional bubble dispersing. Anyone for light-years around would be able to detect them arriving at Sinaloa Station, the shock-wave of a warp field dispersing impossible to camouflage. Stealth was out of the question. Speed would have to suffice.

   Montgomery looked up from his controls, and said, “We're on target, sir. Eighty thousand kilometers from Sinaloa Station. Picking up two transports in system, both registered to the Commerce Directorate.” He frowned, then said, “One of them is listed in our intelligence files as a blockade runner, Commander.”

   “A Commonwealth ship in-system?” Curtis mused.

   “That doesn't necessarily mean anything,” Rojek replied. “They get a lot of their uranium from this system. Colonial Security doesn't even try to stop them. Probably because they're getting a cut of the profits. Pretty common out here on the border.”

   “Watch them, Monty,” Curtis said. “Let's not be shy. Full-spectrum sensor sweep, and if anyone complains about it, strongly hint that it is Political Directorate business.”

   “We're being hailed, sir,” Rojek said, looking up at his screen. “The Assistant Director of Colonial Security wants to speak to the commander of this ship. Listed as Katherine Saxon.”

   “Only the Assistant Director?”

   “The boss is a non-entity. Spends most of her time back on Earth. Someone's daughter, if I remember right. Again, pretty standard out here.” Throwing a switch, Rojek added, “Now we get to find out how good our forged documentation is. Putting you through.”

   The image of the stars snapped off the display, replaced with a stern, auburn-haired woman wearing a warn ColSec uniform, a row of ribbons on her chest suggesting a past history in the military. She frowned as she saw Curtis sitting at the heart of the bridge, then glanced off-camera for a moment before turning back to the pickup.

   “Where's Captain Hunter?” she asked.

   “Ill,” Curtis replied. “Last-minute sickness before w
e launched. Food poisoning, I think. I'm Acting Captain for this run.” Leaning forward, he replied, “We're not going to have any trouble, are we? I'd hate to have to report that we experienced unnecessary delays to our schedule.”

   Folding her arms, Saxon asked, “What's an empty tanker doing out here? I've had no notification of your arrival, and the local Commerce Directorate office is extremely interested to find out what exactly your orders are.”

   “Didn't you get the emergency signal from Earth?” Curtis asked. “They were meant to transmit two days ago. Don't tell me you're that far behind on your paperwork?”

   Saxon grimaced, and replied, “We've had problems. Our interstellar transmitter was destroyed by sabotage, we believe by Commonwealth agents. We're still working on repairs.”

   Raising an eyebrow, Curtis said, “That would explain that, then.” Taking a deep breath, he glanced to the side, then continued, “There have been some labor difficulties with the processing plants out at Titan. For the last few years, we've had a pilot project working out at Luyten 1159-15. Highly classified. They don't have enough for a full load yet, but there is enough to let the factories back home take a good look at it, properly assess its potential.” Sitting back in his chair, he said, “The Parliament has never been happy with the idea of being reliant on only one source for such a vital resource. Developing a second has been a high, and secret priority.”

   “I've heard nothing about a project of that type. And why would a former naval officer be commanding a tanker for this mission?”

   Rojek glanced at Curtis, as the latter replied, “Now perhaps you should stop for a moment and think about that, Saxon. Why would a supposedly retired naval officer be assigned to command a ship on a mission of vital importance to the Federation?” With a sigh, he said, “We're laying over for twelve hours. Minor defects with the drive to repair. It's been a while since Hanoi made a run of this length. I assume you have no problems allowing shore leave for my crew?”

   “Of course not,” Saxon replied. “Though given the current security situation, you'll understand if I want to make sure that anyone you send over is given the necessary protection. I'll be placing additional guards on duty at key areas. I look forward to confirming your story with Earth when our transmitter is repaired.”

   Nodding, Curtis added, “We've got some additional business, as well. I've been instructed to make contact with a local trader, one Juan Keranos. The Political Directorate has a few questions for him. I'd be grateful if you could arrange for him to be present when I arrive on the station. I think a personal meeting might be a good idea. You never know who might be listening, even on a supposedly secure channel.”

   “Keranos?” she replied, raising an eyebrow. “Certainly. I'll send someone up to get him. I look forward to meeting you, Commander. Saxon out.”

   “You think she bought it?” Montgomery asked.

   “Possibly. Our cover story isn't particularly believable, but she must have some idea what Keranos is up to, and it makes sense that the Political Directorate would be extremely interested in finding a lost Starcruiser,” Rojek replied. “I'm still not happy with the idea of you going over there yourself, Teddy. Why don't you let me do it?”

   “We've been over that, Felix,” Curtis said, rising from his chair. “Roxy, the ship is yours until I get back. Don't make any hostile moves, but pay extra attention to that potentially Commonwealth transport. And everything else, for that matter. Snoop, and be obvious about it. We've got to stay in-character as best we can.”

   “Do I proceed to parking orbit, sir, or should we keep our distance?” Norton asked.

   “No, take our place in the orbital pattern,” Curtis replied. “Just in case Tom and I need to get back to the ship in a hurry.” As he made for the door, Rojek turned from his console.

   “You realize that they'll be after us. We might have bought a little time, but not much. What do we do if a Federation flotilla snaps into the system? One quick signal, and the game will be up.”

   “We'll just have to make sure we move quickly, then,” Curtis said. “Have Tom meet me at the shuttle, and inform Saxon that I'll meet her in her office in forty minutes.” Rojek shook his head as Curtis stepped out into the lateral corridor, walking quickly towards the docking port at the far end, Tom already waiting for him by the hatch.

   Moretti peered through the airlock as he approached, saying, “I've already seen to pre-flight. You sure you don't want to wait for Hanoi to take station? You're only going to be saving a few minutes this way, and you'll be dancing close to their orbital defense network.”

   “We might need every one of those minutes if this goes wrong,” Curtis replied. “I want you to keep a close eye on the drive. We might need to get out of here without much warning if we get unexpected guests.”

   “I thought that the whole problem was that they were expected,” Tom quipped.

   Nodding, Moretti said, “We're good for one more jump with no notice, Commander. After that, I'll have to strip down for a proper servicing. Those zero point drives burn through components in a hurry.”

   “Understood. Thanks, Bobbi.”

   “Any time.”

   Curtis stepped into the cramped transfer shuttle, squeezing his way into the narrow confines of the cockpit, the control panels lighting up as he settled into position. Behind him, Tom ducked into the copilot's seat, throwing switches to bring the rudimentary sensor packages online.

   “Wish we had some guns on this thing,” the erstwhile bartender said. “I feel naked.”

   “The last thing I want to do is think about you naked, Tom,” Curtis replied with a smile. “Initiating launch sequence.” At the tap of a control, the double hatches slammed shut and the shuttle dropped away from the side of Hanoi, the main engines firing a second later to hurl it towards the station ahead. “What do you know about Sinaloa?”

   “Now you ask me.”

   “We've got a long ride.”

   “Not that much to tell, I guess,” he replied. “Dispersed system. Maybe ten thousand people on the station itself, and upwards of a million scattered across the local asteroids and moons running the uranium mines. Commerce figured it was a good place to dump people it didn't like very much, so there's been a steady stream of defectors to the Commonwealth for a while.” He paused, then said, “I don't know this Keranos, but he's picked a good place to hide if wants to auction Polaris off to the highest bidder. We willing to pay?”

   “There's a couple of million stashed on Hanoi if we need it. Though I was rather hoping to appeal to his better nature.” Cracking a smile, he added, “That, and I suspect he might be interested in the protection we can offer him. Whichever side he picks, he'll make a lot of enemies. The man's playing a very dangerous game.”

   “Aren't we all,” Tom said, relaxing in his seat. “Thirty-two minutes to docking.”

   “Take a look at activity in the out-system,” Curtis said. “Let me know if you see anything strange, anything out of the ordinary. Anything that looks like a pattern.”

   Frowning, Tom replied, “You do realize that I'm just a second-rate shuttle technician, right? I'm not an intelligence agent. I'm not even sure why you want me along.”

   Glancing up at the receding Hanoi, he said, “I'm not sure who I trust right now.”

   “What makes me so special?”

   “You've had almost twenty years to sell me out to ColSec if you wanted. You never did. And you reacted quickly enough when Cordova drew that pistol on me, back on Titan.”

   “That could just be a good cover story.”

   “Maybe, but you've had enough chances to turn us both in up till now. Hell, I've got to trust someone, and I'd rather take a chance on someone who's been serving me drinks for the last couple of decades than someone I only met the day before yesterday. I'm not even sure about Rojek. The guy used to tuck a copy of the Declaration of Fundamental Rights under his p
illow before he went to bed. It isn't that I don't trust him, but...”

   “You don't trust him. Got it.” Shaking his head, he said, “I guess I'll play intelligence analyst for a bit, then. I always thought that space adventures like these were meant to be exciting.”

   “I'd rather we have a nice, boring conversation, if you don't mind.” As Tom settled into his work, Curtis pulled up the record on Saxon. As he'd expected, she'd spent time in the Fleet, one of the reservists drafted into service for the Uprising. Two years on Canopus, working as a security technician, then a transfer into Colonial Security. She'd been out here for fifteen years, promoted surprisingly quickly to her current position before sticking in office for more than a decade.

   Which almost certainly meant that she was pulling some sort of a scam, probably skimming profits from the smugglers using the station. If any ship with suspected Commonwealth affiliation had arrived in Sol, a team of inspectors would have been gutting it in a matter of minutes. Even before the Uprising, when illicit trading happened, they kept it to unpopulated systems, small outlaw stations able to handle limited cargo runs. Everyone knew that such trades took place, but they'd had the decency to keep them in hiding. Now they were almost open about it, hardly bothering to conceal their crimes.

   Oddly, he found that comforting. This wasn't the Federation he'd served in the past. That was dead and buried, if it had ever existed at all. The whole edifice was rotten to the core, ready to collapse if sufficient pressure could be brought to bear. Polaris might just be able to do it. He flicked across to Armstrong's file, a scowl creeping onto his lips as he read over the political animal's record, a collection of assignments obviously designed purely for career advancement and personal gain. Only a few years on a starship before assuming command of Cygnus.