Traitor

by Drew Avera

  Auden did not give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, she focused on the valley where the pages came together to form the spine of the book. Her eyes fixated on the crease, and the texture of the page, and the slight rise of the ink that formed the words on those pages. Anything to keep from daring a glance back at him.

  "Did they tell you why we were after your father? Did they tell you he was a traitor?" He clicked his tongue in a tsk like he was about to scold someone for wrongdoing.

  Auden clenched her jaw, fighting back the formulated response that wanted to rush forth from her lips. He’s just trying to get under your skin, she told herself.

  "Did daddy tell you why he was in the hot zone of the Heshian Sector in the first place? Did he tell you why he went outside Consulate jurisdiction? I'm sure that he didn't because he doesn't want to defile the way his children think of him. But the truth is that he turned his back on all the principles that he took an oath to uphold. I don't fault you for looking up to your father, but I do question your judgment when the truth is before your eyes."

  Auden slammed the book shut and swung it at the chief. He moved ever so slightly and let the tome whiz past him without blinking.

  "You don't know anything about my father. You certainly don't know anything about me," she shot back as she clenched her fist tightly. Never in her life had she wanted to use violence against another person the way that she did that very moment. But he wasn't worth it.

  "Temper. Temper," he said with a smirk. "I would applaud you, but as you can see, my hands are tied."

  "Good. Then stay that way."

  Nesbitt’s smile faded and a glare of wickedness took hold of his face. "I forgot to mention," he said as he shifted his position, inching his body closer. "Harrison forgot to tape my hands," Nesbitt revealed that he had unshackled himself as he dangled the empty cuffs in front of him tauntingly.

  Auden gasped, frozen in fear as the chief rose slowly from the deck with an ever-widening grin.

  "Don't think that he betrayed you," Nesbitt said as he took a step towards her. "Harrison is the single worst example of competency that I've ever seen. I'm shocked that the imbecile can breathe on his own, much less form a coherent sentence."

  "Don't come any closer," Auden warned.

  "Or what?" Nesbitt asked, his voice on the verge of singing his taunt. "No one's coming for you, kid. Your parents are as good as dead, and whatever plan Dickson has to try and save them is doomed to fail. There's only one realistic expectation, and that's that Admiral Hardak will kill your father. Then he will kill your mother.”

  He paused for a moment, craning his neck as he popped the vertebrae in his back. His eyes focused on her once more and he continued, “And I'm going to kill you"

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The Tempest came into view directly beneath the holographic storm. Dickson was rattled at the thought of what he was about to be walking into. He had taken the time to swap name tapes with Chuck so he could try to impersonate Nesbitt, but the closer he got to the ship the more worried he became that he was going to give himself away. It seemed like the best idea considering it was difficult enough for a human to imitate another person, much less another species altogether. Dickson only hoped that the height difference wasn’t noticeable.

  "Don't forget, follow my lead and try not to say anything," he said, careful not to transmit on an open frequency.

  The brow leading up to the admiral’s ship welcomed them. They marched up with Dickson leading the way as they climbed the ramp in single-file fashion. He was careful not to take hold of the handrails as he remembered watching Nesbitt enter his ship a week prior. I have to play the part, he thought.

  "Welcome back, Chief," the human sentry said from across the quarterdeck. Dickson responded with a head nod, not wanting to give himself away right off the bat.

  The good part about being part of an extraction team was that no one ever asked to see an ID card. Those types were free to come and go as they pleased while the regular Navy stood by their old traditions. He resisted the urge to ask permission to board and led the others past the quarterdeck in stoic silence.

  Inside the ship was chaos. Several men were clustered in small groups inside the cargo hold placing bets while two men engaged in hand-to-hand combat as a way to let off steam. It was a common occurrence during downtime, though it was mostly frowned upon by upper leadership. Dickson was surprised to see how willing these men were to engage in such behavior with an admiral on board, regardless of what kind of man Hardak was.

  Dickson halted and the others followed suit as he scanned the area looking for the Heshian admiral. "Where is he?" He asked using a private channel to speak to Harrison.

  "Last I saw him," Harrison replied, "He was in the main corridor door."

  "Let's go," Dickson replied as he marched off in the direction of the ladder well leading to the next level of the admiral’s ship.

  The Tempest wasn’t the largest ship in the fleet, and it was certainly more spacious than his destroyer. With three main levels and a massive cargo hold, the ship was capable of supporting an eighty-person crew. Most ships were manned at seventy-percent, with crews fewer than twenty men. The Tempest was also designed to function as a combat control for all fleet units. It could also transport four scout ships if needed, though none were in the cargo hold when they entered.

  The ladder well terminated at a large hatch and when Dickson opened it the metal linkages creaked as they loosened. The hatch opened just off the main core door of the first level above the cargo bay. The passageway was empty from what he saw, but he knew there were passages cutting from one side of the ship to the other spaced every twenty to thirty meters apart. Who knew what they were going to find the further through the ship they went?

  "Hoyt was being held at frame forty on the starboard side," Harrison said. "Or at least he was the last time I was here."

  "We can start there and work our way back if we must," Dickson said as he glanced to check the frame number where they were at. Frame one-hundred-seventy is what the placard read.

  He made his way towards the forward section of the ship and the others followed tightly behind him. Dickson tried to make the next turn when an opening was available, but he stopped short as he heard two people talking around the corner. He peered around the corner slowly and noticed that they were regular crewmembers, and not armed.

  That was a welcomed relief.

  "Follow me," he whispered before walking down the narrow passage where the crew members were. He psyched himself up to act like Nesbitt, trying to sell it from the gait of his walk to the limited movement of his shoulders to keep from swinging his arms despite the heavy gauntlets attached to his wrist.

  The two crewmembers stopped talking and glanced up to see the approaching chief and his squad. They immediately shifted to one side of the passageway, planting themselves next to the bulkhead as if they were trying to become a part of it. "Good evening, Chief," one of the men said. Dickson got the impression that he was lower enlisted and eager to please and he quickly pondered what Nesbitt would do.

  It seemed obvious to him, though he hated what he was about to do.

  Dickson shoulder checked the sailor before turning and glowering. "Don't tell me what type of evening it is,” he spat, using his best impression of the chief.

  He continued walking, not waiting for a response. It felt so out of character for him, but he had to remind himself that he was playing a part. He couldn’t risk being found out by going soft. For all intents and purposes, he was Nesbitt. At least for now.

  They turned left at the end of the connecting passageway and it was completely open, void of anyone and Dickson was beginning to think that his nervousness was for nothing.

  That was where he was wrong.

  "Chief Nesbitt, where's Harrison?" Admiral Hardak said as he burst through the door.

  Dickson froze in his tracks and turned slowly to face the admiral. He sucked in a breath and tried to c
ompose himself before speaking. "We have a runner, sir," he answered. "He was nowhere to be found."

  Hardak slammed his fist against the bulkhead with seething rage. "That little worm. I knew he was too pathetic to be trusted. I'll send a team to search for him at dawn. For now, I have bigger things on my plate that are more pressing."

  Dickson nodded, fighting tooth and nail to keep up the charade as his anxieties washed over him. "Agreed, sir," he said flatly. "Permission to carry on"

  "Permission granted," Hardak replied as he shifted out of the doorway.

  Dickson turned a marched away, but Hardak called for his attention once more. "One more thing, Chief." Dickson turned to face the admiral but said nothing. "Are you aware that you’re wearing your helmet inside the ship? Have you not been properly indoctrinated on the rules?"

  Dickson's heart fluttered in his chest. He had just been confronted by the admiral and now he was in a position to be discovered. He wanted to run, to give up the charade, but what choice did you have?

  "No indoctrination necessary, sir," he replied.

  "Then take it off," Hardak snapped.

  Dickson exhaled, stalling for time as he slowly raised his hands to grip the helmet and pull it off. He felt Hardak’s eyes boring into him as he pulled the helmet off and looked up at the admiral defiantly.

  Hardak looked as if he had just seen a ghost. "What the—"

  Dickson acted on instinct and shoved the helmet into Hardak’s face with all his might.

  "Go and find Hoyt," he ordered the others.

  Harrison, Chuck, and Nata fled, leaving Dickson in a physical altercation with the giant Heshian admiral

  Hardak held his face in his hand as blood dripped profusely. He snarled and growled in rage as both hands struck Dickson in the chest and sent the captain back into the bulkhead.

  Dickson reached for his handgun, but Hardak was too fast and swiped with this claw digging into Dickson’s arm and slamming him to the deck. Hardak moved to stomp the human, but Dickson rolled out of reach and performed a reverse somersault as he regained his footing.

  "You should be dead, traitor," Hardak seethed.

  "And you should be under arrest for conspiracy, but we don't always get what we want," Dickson spat. He looked down for his gun and saw it lying on the deck. Both of them were unarmed but going up against the superior strength of the Heshian, it would be a one-sided battle.

  "Go ahead, Captain, reach for your gun. I dare you."

  Dickson dared a glance, calculating the distance and how long it would take for him to get to it, lift it, and fire. He knew well enough that by the time he got his hand on the gun, that Hardak would run him over and tear him to shreds.

  "Maybe," he said under his breath before lunging towards the weapon.

  Hardak acted as expected, pouncing towards the weapon, where he thought Dickson would be. Instead, Dickson maneuvered himself in the opposite direction and used Hardak's momentum against him. The Heshian barreled onto the deck, skidding against the waxed tiles as blood splattered from his face onto the deck.

  Dickson took the opportunity to grab the weapon and he aimed at the admiral. "It's over, sir. It's time to face the music," he said.

  Hardak rolled over onto his back and glared up at the captain. "Oh no, Captain It's only just begun."

  Dickson scoffed.

  "What's so funny?” Hardak asked and then Dickson noticed something about the man's gaze. He wasn't looking at him, he was looking past him. Dickson canted his head and saw Kretzschmar out of the corner of his eye.

  "Oh crap," he sighed.

  And then, Kretzschmar swung.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The sound of someone running filled Kevin's ears and drew his attention to the door seconds before it burst open. Two men entered in full tactical gear and he watched as a third member of their team paused outside the door glancing back from where they came.

  "Your enthusiasm for my imminent demise is unsettling," Kevin said as he tried to cover up the fear in his voice.

  One of the men knelt before him and removed his helmet. He sat it on the deck, glanced up, and made eye contact with the commander. "Don't be in such a hurry to die," Chuck said with a smirk.

  Kevin's eyes went wide and the trepidation he felt was replaced with a glimmer of hope. "Chuck?"

  "One and the same," Chuck replied as he fished for a key to unlock Kevin's cuffs. Kevin lifted his wrist to the Grotan man as his heart pounded expectantly.

  "We must hurry," the other man said, his voice distinctly human. "I don't know how much longer he can keep the admiral distracted."

  Kevin had no idea who was behind the helmet, but he was thankful nonetheless. His heavy, burdensome shackles fell and slapped to the deck below and Chuck reached down and helped him to his feet. "Where's your wife being held?" Chuck asked.

  "She's on the port side of the ship," the other man answered. “The interrogation room.” Chuck nodded and then paused as the other man motioned behind him. "Where did Nata go?"

  "She'll be fine, let’s just get his wife and regroup while we have the chance," Chuck said.

  All three men ran out of the space, rounded the corner, and darted down a connecting passageway towards the port side of the Tempest.

  "I appreciate the rescue and all, but I feel a little out in the open without a weapon," Kevin said as he adjusted his gait to keep up with the others. He hadn’t realized how much his age and injuries slowed him down until he was panting for air and on the run for his life.

  "I’ll see what I can do about getting you a weapon after we get Sarah," the man said flatly, clearly focusing his attention on the mission.

  Kevin glanced at the name tape which read Anderson, but he knew better. There was a tinge of worry in the man's voice despite the actions that he was taking. Extraction team personnel were far from being the nervous types, but Kevin kept his thoughts to himself as he followed. Help was help and there was no need to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  They made it to the interrogation room and barreled through the door to see Sarah sitting at the table, dazed and confused. Kevin marched in and that drew her attention immediately. "Kevin!"

  "Hey, honey, I wish I had time to explain but right now isn’t the time. Just trust me and let's go," he said taking her hand. He was surprised that the guard assigned to her hadn’t cuffed her to the table and that whoever was supposed to be guarding her was presently nowhere to be seen.

  It would appear his luck had changed, but on second thought, it was troubling. The guard could be anywhere. That revelation proved to be true as whoever was in Anderson's armor shouted, "We have company, we have to go," he ordered.

  Kevin led his wife out of the interrogation room and they disappeared down the nearest ladder well leading to the lower level of the Tempest.

  At the bottom of the ladder, the space opened to the expansive cargo bay. Boisterous conversations were happening as they hid behind massive shipping containers that were strapped to the deck. They stayed close to the bulkhead, trying to keep in the shadows and out of sight for as long as possible. Eventually, they were left with half the length of the ship-wide open and making them easily detectable.

  "What we do now?" Kevin asked. "They paraded me around enough on the ship that I doubt there’s anyone who doesn't know who I am. I’ll stand out like a sore thumb."

  "Agreed. Chuck, do you have any ideas?" the human asked.

  Curiosity got to Kevin and he couldn't help but ask, "who are you?"

  The man doffed the helmet and showed his face. "I'm Lieutenant Harrison," he answered.

  "I remember seeing you with Admiral Hardak when Captain Dickson was shot. I’m surprised to see you helping us," Kevin said cautiously as he inched away.

  "Let's just say that current events have opened my eyes to my wrongdoing," Harrison said. "I'm sorry for what I did."

  Kevin turned and peered around the corner at the expansive gap between them and freedom. There were dozens of crewmember
s around, chatting each other up about God knows what. His attention eventually went back to Harrison. "Save your apologies for now and help me figure out a way to get off the ship," Kevin said.

  Harrison snapped to attention and replied, "Yes, sir. I have an idea."

  Harrison donned his helmet as he stepped past them and out into the open.

  "What is he doing?" Kevin asked as he positioned himself between Sarah and the open space before them.

  "Get behind me," Chuck said under his breath as he readied his weapon.

  Kevin did as he suggested and slid back into the shadows. Kevin and Sarah huddled together hoping and praying that whatever plan Harrison had concocted would serve to help get them out of this mess. They didn't have long to wait before the lieutenant shouted to get everyone's attention.

  Harrison moved to the center of the cargo area and switched on the helmet’s amplification system, "Can I have your attention, please." The sound of hushed voices suddenly growing quiet filled the space and he continued, "I have received direct word from Admiral Hardak that he needs us to retrieve the Hoyt children," he said, pausing for dramatic effect. "This is an all-hands effort; if you don't have business dealing with the prisoners, then you are expected to depart immediately. Do you have any questions?"

  Kevin peered around the corner skeptically, not convinced that it would have the effect Harrison had intended, but to his surprise, the dozen or more teams converged into their individual units in preparation to depart.

  Harrison marched back and gave a small gesture with his hand to shoo them back from drawing any unwanted attention.

  "Move into the space over there," he whispered.

  Kevin led his wife to a narrow hatch and into a dark maintenance space. Red overhead lighting which was predominantly used for emergency lighting cast the room in ghostly shadows. The rows of benches and machinery were set up in straight lines and gave the room an eerie feel.

  "That was a good call," Kevin said, "I honestly did not expect that to work."