Call of Courage: 7 Novels of the Galactic Frontier

by C. Gockel

  “Whiteside,” Rafe said. “Finally decided to report to the colonel?”

  She frowned. Had he actually told the truth when they had come for her? What would the station commander want with her at this hour? True, he was temporarily their wing commander as well but so far had left those duties to the other officers, relying heavily on his squadron leaders.

  She walked silently past the grunts to look around the vast space. Indeed, she saw the colonel near the terrace in conversation with several officers. She stopped by a receptionist who directed her into a separate area, this one with opaque walls and furnished with a few lounges and chairs. She sat stiffly near the door.

  Two of the guards followed her. Ancel leaned against the wall, so close to her that his hip brushed her arm. She rose from her seat and moved to another. Rafe flung himself into a deep armchair and, out of sight of the staff in the main work space, propped his boot against the back of another.

  “So what did our favorite pilot do to get an audience with the big boss,” he said.

  “How would I know?”

  “Could it be that you have something to tell him?”

  “Not your business, is it?”

  “Maybe it is. Had a little trouble down on Bellac earlier?”

  “No. Why?”

  He leered up at Sergeant Ancel. “Where’s that blond boyfriend of yours these days?”

  She tried to ignore him but found that she could not. “What did you do to him? How did you get him to cooperate?”

  He shrugged, making it clear that he had too much fun in keeping her wondering. “He didn’t take much convincing. Humans are weak. They scare easy.” He leered at her. “Not like you, though, Nova.”

  “Lieutenant Whiteside,” she corrected.

  “By the time Beryl’s had his say with the colonel, you’ll be lucky to be Private Whiteside. Do you really think that we don’t have this covered? That some snoop like you actually matters?”

  “I do think that. You wouldn’t be up here threatening me if you weren’t scared green.”

  He shook his head but it seemed to her that some of the sneering arrogance had left his unshaven face. “Beryl tells us you spread for him like a blanket.” He placed his hand on his groin and left it there. “Is that true, Nova? He said you had some decent parts on you.”

  “You’ll never know,” she said, sure of his bluff now that nothing remained but lewd suggestions with the threat of more violence.

  “We’ll see. Guess you haven’t had a nice piece of Centauri before.”

  She regarded him coolly. “Well, I have. Although that one liked to bathe.”

  Ancel, still slouching by the door, cackled with laughter when Rafe scowled at her. He sat up straighter in his chair when a woman in a stylish sky-colored wrap came to the door. She did not look at him but gestured to Nova with a polite smile and an impossibly delicate hand.

  Nova stood up. She bent slightly toward Rafe as she passed. “It’s called soap, shekka’an . Write that down somewhere so you don’t forget.”

  It felt odd to walk past people speaking to each other and yet not hear a word through the discreet sound baffles. She stepped through one of those shields onto the open terrace overlooking the lower levels, waiting to be called. Even at this hour, a few off-duty staffers were enjoying the space. A nice place to take a late meal, she thought, feeling her stomach rumble despite her apprehension.

  “Lieutenant Whiteside,” she heard finally from some hidden sound source. “Please join us.”

  She looked up to see the station commander gesture to her from his workspace further along the terrace. Nearby stood Captain Dakad and a crisply uniformed Feydan major whom she did not recognize. She fought an irrational urge to run away.

  “Sir.” She saluted the officers and stood stiffly before them.

  “Whiteside,” the colonel indicated a seat close to him. There was no table between them and she sat awkwardly, crossing and then uncrossing her legs. Her boots were caked with desert dust and she tucked them under the chair.

  Thedris held a data unit in his hand. He regarded her for a long while and she berated herself for not having taken a minute to at least put on a set of fatigues instead of remaining in this rumpled uniform. She glanced at Dakad and saw nothing helpful there.

  The colonel looked down at his screen. “Your records,” he informed her. The officer seemed relaxed, his formal jacket unfastened, the shock of black hair casually brushed over the crown of his head. The light from above reflected eerily in his eyes when he looked up again. “I’ve had the pleasure of working with Colonel Tegan Whiteside once. Outstanding officer.”

  “Yessir.”

  “From what I see here, you look to be following his example.”

  “I try, sir. Thank you.”

  “Forty hours left until your Hunter Class trials. Impressive. What is your goal after that?”

  She lifted her chin. “Targon, sir.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “A fine objective, Lieutenant. That’ll put you on a battleship into deep space.”

  “I hope so, sir.”

  “Much more interesting than guarding this dust ball.” He pointed down, toward the planet. “Or patrolling a jumpsite.”

  “Those assignments have their challenges as well,” she replied dutifully.

  He nodded. “You’ve lost some colleagues recently. I’m sorry. That is never easy.”

  “No, sir. They’ll be missed. Our squad was… is a tight unit.”

  He looked up at Dakad. “That is good to hear.”

  She glanced at the Feydan major standing beside the colonel. She stood with one hand around the wrist of the other, no doubt recording this meeting with the camera in her data sleeve. Her elaborately tattooed face gave nothing away. She and Dakad would also be sitting if any of this was as informal as the colonel appeared. Nova stopped herself from squirming nervously as she tried to recall anything that might give her cause to feel as nervous as she did. Nothing came to mind.

  “As you know, we’re still involved in the investigation of the horrific event on the flight deck. It appears that a new material was used to compromise the power packs on General Ausan’s shuttle. We’ve traced some components to Pelion so far.”

  She frowned. “Those packs aren’t volatile. What we saw was an explosion.”

  “Exactly. The labs are busy figuring that out.”

  “Sabotage, then? Rebels?”

  “Likely. The question is: how did it get aboard?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. That isn’t my field. I would assume the material was already aboard her cruiser when it arrived.”

  He tipped his head. “A reasonable assumption. Leaving the entire Siolet base under suspicion.”

  “I suppose,” she said uncomfortably. “Some of us were guessing that they wanted to blow it here to make a statement about the orbiter. And bag a few pilots while at it.”

  “Also reasonable. Meaning that someone up here could have tampered with those packs after the general arrived.” He gestured to the terraces. “Crew, admin, pilots.”

  “Sir, surely you’re not suggesting that the pilots had anything to do with this. Our pilots suffered as many casualties as the ground crew.” She leaned forward, unable to hold herself in check much longer. “Why am I being questioned? And here? By you?”

  “The rest of the station staff is being interviewed by security. But we have some additional inquiries for you.”

  “Sir?”

  “Tell us about Djari Nathon,” he said, watching her intently.

  “Djari?”

  He consulted his screen for the correct name. “That’s Nathon Lis Djari. You know him well.”

  Nova blinked, trying to discern the direction of this inquisition. “Yes. He was with us in Shon Gat. Working with the wounded there.”

  “Yes, we’re aware of what happened there.”

  “He… he’s a farmer. Somewhere in the Rift. He said he came to look for work up here.”

  “And
you petitioned General Ausan to expedite that.”

  “Yessir. He showed great fortitude at Shon Gat. He helped us escape. It seemed a small reward for his actions.”

  “What is your relationship with him now?”

  She furrowed her brow. “He’s been dealing with some… difficulties. But I like to think that we are friends,” she added firmly.

  The colonel came to his feet and gestured for her to remain seated when he walked to the perimeter of the sound-shielded space. He looked out over the terrace for a while before returning to stand behind her. She felt him place his hand on her shoulder and fought an urge to pull away.

  “Your friend is under suspicion of aiding the rebel on Bellac,” he said finally.

  “What?” she cried out before biting her lip and reminding herself to hold it together in front of these people. “That’s not possible.”

  “Oh?”

  “He’s suffered as much as any of the locals have. He’s no rebel.”

  “He may be a spy. Or even just a sympathizer.”

  She shook her head. “He has no regard for them.” She looked up at him. “And he would not even think about something as horrific as the sabotage in the hangar. He cares about people. I’ve seen it.”

  The colonel returned to his chair, likely assured that they had enough video of her reaction to this news.

  “Besides,” she said. “If he’s a spy he’s not a very good one. He’s never pushed me for any information that he shouldn’t have. And he was hurt in the blast, too.”

  “He had no business on that deck.”

  She shrugged. “He said he was picking up a shipment of seeds.”

  “Five cargo pods arriving daily and he has seeds delivered to the flight hangar? The whole point of the elevator is to make that unnecessary. Security should have stopped him. Yet he seemed to know how to avoid them.”

  “He’s a farmer. What would he know about placing explosives onto a guarded Air Command cruiser?”

  “How do you know he’s a farmer?”

  Nova closed her eyes. Chemical analysis kits in his room. Boxes of material there one day and gone the next. Guns. Evasive answers. “I don’t.”

  “Coria Taren,” he said.

  “Sir?”

  “Coria Taren, liberated along with yourself and a few others at Shon Gat. I’ll say that ‘liberated’ is not the correct word. She is a confessed rebel operative who’s been working in Shon Gat for months. She was also ‘captive’ along with you and Nathon Djari?”

  “Yes,” Nova said. “I suspected she might have been one of them.” She looked up, feeling caged. “I was in no position to arrest her.”

  “But you did not suspect your friend Nathon Djari?”

  “I can’t believe he would side with the Shri-Lan.” She looked up at Dakad and then stood up to pace, as Colonel Thedris had done, to the edge of the terrace. Crossing her arms she looked up through the skylight to the glittering solar collectors above.

  Was it possible? She thought about Djari’s endless patience and gentle handling of the injured at Shon Gat. His knowledge of agriculture was undoubtedly the main reason for his presence up here, with or without her recommendation. He had been a solid rock in what had been weeks of turmoil for her, and that only for a few exhausting, confusing days.

  But he had not once asked her about Coria. Did he know what happened to her? When he escaped Beryl’s men at Shon Gat, was it to flee for his life or to avoid being taken to the garrison? Had the rebels captured him after that, or had he joined them on his own accord? She had heard him rail against the Union and against Air Command methods. She had dismissed it as weary grumblings in a miserable situation.

  And maybe, she thought, this was the reason why he had showed so little concern over her flippant comment after he had first made love to her. If the colonel’s accusation were true, Djari knew that there was no future here on this orbiter for him and that there was none for them together. At best, she thought, he cared enough to want to stop her from boarding the doomed shuttle. And she had responded by practically flinging herself into his bed.

  “Idiot,” she whispered. Gullible, unthinking, impulsive, stupid! How she ached to confront him this minute, wherever he might be. She went back to where the others waited, unmoving. “You wouldn’t be telling me this if you thought I was compromised, too. What do you want from me?”

  Thedris waited until she had taken her chair again. “Normally, I’d relieve you of duty, arrest him and see how the investigation shakes out.”

  “And abnormally?” she said, too angry and disappointed for military etiquettes.

  “I’ve spoken to your past commander.” He peered more closely at his screen. “Andridge on Tannaday. The two tours you did there were well spent. She speaks highly of you. For the most part. Your loyalty to the Commonwealth is not in question.”

  “I’m glad,” she said flatly.

  He pursed his lips and shifted them around for a bit as if making up his mind about something before speaking. “You’ll continue your friendship with him. None of our agents have been able to get on anything more than a sociable footing with him. He’s polite but we get nothing but a blank wall from him.”

  “You want me to spy for you?”

  “Yes. We think he might be able to lead us to more higher-placed rebels in the Bellac Shri-Lan group. Perhaps even outside of Bellac. There is nothing to be gained by arresting him just yet. He’s a minor piece. We’re not even sure that he was responsible for the explosion in the hangar.”

  She looked up at Captain Dakad as if for help. “I’m not trained for covert ops.”

  “We’re not sending you into Shri-Lan headquarters.” Thedris smiled up at the Feydan major. “Although it would be a day for celebration if you found out where that is these days.” His expression sobered when he returned to his screen. “You have enough training in languages, surveillance equipment and security protocol to be useful. We want you to engage him, discover what you can about rebel activities on Bellac or elsewhere.”

  “Is he dangerous?”

  “He’s not a farmer.”

  Nova had to make an effort to maintain her erect posture, wanting nothing so much as wilt in her chair, perhaps with a cozy blanket wrapped around her. Oddly, her thoughts wandered to Lieutenant Boker. Heiko Boker, who would surely come up with some disrespectful comment about this, who would ultimately comfort her with something fairly sensible, and who was dead now. Perhaps because of Djari. How she wished for him now, the only person here, other than Lieutenant Rolyn, to whom she might admit her stupidity for having trusted the man.

  “What is he, then?” she said.

  “We don’t know. He’s been in Shon Gat for some time, waiting for a work placement up here. None of the rebels we captured there had any information about him.”

  “Including Coria?”

  “Including her.” He observed her for a moment. “Lieutenant, I can imagine it is difficult to hear that a friend has fallen under suspicion. We all know that saboteurs have been able to infiltrate many levels of both Air Command and Union governance. That doesn’t make it easier to find out that a trusted person is not who they appear to be.”

  She nodded but his words brought a small whisper of hope. “What about our people? Is it possible that he’s an agent? One of ours? Working in Shon Gat?”

  The colonel shook his head. “We checked with Targon. There are no special ops going on that we weren’t aware of. Our own plain clothes are accounted for.”

  “May I ask why you suspect him? Other than that he’s not a farmer?”

  The major standing beside Thedris finally found her voice. “As part of the investigation we have been tracing the movements of all station personnel over the past few weeks. Nathon Djari made two trips to the surface to arrange for plant material. In both cases, he met briefly with the growers and then took a private skimmer into Siolet. Accurate facial recognition is very easy right now, given his recent injury. He was spotted in s
everal locations that are known to be sympathetic of Shri-Lan members. He sent coded messages from here to a mobile operative on the surface not long before the explosion. We suspect a receiver hidden among the caravans. A closer examination of his background turned up a number of discrepancies, although artfully concealed. He is now under surveillance.”

  Nova was still processing the information she had just been given. “Huh? What?”

  “We are tracking his movements and have placed surveillance at key points along his daily routine.”

  “You bugged his room?” she gasped, aware of a furious blush creeping up along her neck. “When?”

  “Yesterday. When we received the report from Command.”

  Nova dared to breathe again, suddenly very skeptical about Djari’s motive for taking their private encounters elsewhere on the station. So much for star-dappled poetry! He just wasn’t much for having his love life recorded. If he did, indeed, work for the Shri-Lan, checking his room for hidden devices would be routine.

  How she wished she still thought of him as just a smuggler! Captain Beryl and his self-serving operation suddenly seemed very insignificant in comparison to these accusations.

  “Colonel, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with—”

  A strident, pre-emptive whine from the colonel’s com system cut her off in mid-sentence. He tapped his sleeve to receive the message without voice. His brow furrowed. Several minutes passed before he closed that communication and began another, this one audible.

  “Shri-Lan forces have attacked the Rim Station with a shipment of Rhuwacs,” he transmitted. “Shrills are reported over Siolet near the commerce center. A carrier just came out of subspace at the jumpsite and has engaged our fighters out there. All are requesting reinforcements.”

  Dakad and Nova exchanged a startled look. He tapped his own communicator to sound an alarm in the pilots’ quarters and on their com bands. “We’re deploying. Pilots only. Not a drill. Upper flight deck in ten.”

  “Sir, what about the elevator base?” the Feydan Major asked.

  “Shon Gat is quiet,” Thedris replied and turned to Dakad. “Take your squad to the jumpsite. We’ll send Caga down to Siolet.”