Op File Treason

by J. Clifton Slater

  “I don’t know what that is or what you’re talking about,” he lied as his lips trembled.

  “Thank you, Mr. Katrijn,” Warlock said as she shoved the protected data pad into the pouch where she’d kept the climbing gear.

  She stood, took a half step then, spinning around, delivered a kick to the side of Jordy’s head. He collapsed unconscious, sprawled out on the carpet.

  Warlock shut the interior doors and the door to the hallway. Then she ran for the steps leading up to the passageway. Once in the muted light, she took three quick steps, tripped over her own feet and ended up banging her wounded arm into the wall. The pain cleared her mind and brought focus, allowing her to continue. At the right parapet, she gathered her climbing gear.

  Sweat broke out on her forehead and she fumbled the rope. It might have been the sounds of helicopters flying over the compound. While she had no issues with killing criminals or bodyguards protecting a traitor, getting into a gunfight with Planet Uno security wasn’t in her plan. And neither was being captured and, having the faraday bag taken and put in an evidence room. There was no doubt, Jordy Katrijn had the resources to make a piece of evidence disappear.

  Fighting wasn’t an option. Surrendering was out of the question. Leaving one alternative. Escape.

  “Poet. You up?” she asked while straightening the rope and laying the grappling hook on the inside of the wall. This time, she wanted it secured as the one-armed slide would be sloppier. “Poet. You up?”

  Chapter – 26 Mission Exfiltrate

  Two helicopters flared preparing to land. The landing zone was beyond the rubble that had once been the south wall of the compound. A third circled the area its spotlight illuminating the chalet and the surrounding ground. With no answer from her pilot and exfiltration directions, Warlock climbed over the parapet, locked her ankles over the rope and began her descent.

  Four Uno security officers jogged by under Warlock. For some reason, they failed to notice the rope or to look skyward. With more arriving at the landing zone, she relaxed her grip and slid to a hard landing. Voices moving in her direction carried from around the manor house. Leaving the rope, she jogged through a hole in the compound’s west wall. As a diversion, Walden’s actions worked better than Warlock hoped but proved to be more devastating than she anticipated.

  Warlock got beyond the noise and the arriving officers. In the dark, she slowed because her head ached and her legs weren’t responding properly. Striker training taught her to ignore pain and complete the mission. It also warned about injuries that left you inconveniently incapacitated in hostile territory. She was thinking about resting and rehydrating when a cry went up from the chalet. Someone had finally looked up and discovered her rope. Shaking off her pain and dizziness, the Marine put one foot in front of the other and trudged into the night.

  The black of the tree line seemed to be retreating. Then it grew closer before falling away again. All the while there was a buzzing over her head that she couldn’t place. It wasn’t until she tripped that Warlock realized she’d been staggering along a route running parallel to the tree line. Glancing around, she couldn’t locate the chalet at first. Finally, it came into focus far off to the west. Her supplies and safe spot was high in the mountains, up two steep inclines and back the way she had wandered.

  The buzzing materialized into a helicopter shining a spotlight as it cruised the trees and the open ground before the forest. Voices, closer than were comfortable, carried from the dark. Uno security forces were sweeping to the south and east. Their officers probably urged on by threats from Jordy Katrijn.

  Warlock checked her water sack and found she had consumed all the water. Reaching across her vest, she found a hole in the base of the other. Dip’s second bullet must have punched through it and let the water drain out. Unable to get back to her supplies, Warlock though about the stream from west mountain lake. Pushing unsteadily to her feet, she focused on the safety of the trees and a drink of cold water from the creek.

  ***

  The helicopter flew slowly along the high mountain plateau. Warlock didn’t remember climbing the elevation or staggering onto the flat. Then the spotlight shifted and a blinding light shown from above and she lost her night vision. Not that it had helped her much to this point, she thought hurrying away from the light. It caught her once more but she found a tall tree with wide branches. Changing course, she slipped further southeast. Then the ground began to rise.

  Thirsty and with a pounding headache, the Marine couldn’t remember passing the mountain creek. If she couldn’t locate the stream, she’d head for the lake. There were places to hide and plenty of fresh water. Then the helicopter came over her position and began to circle. Somehow, they were tracking her.

  It had to be something she picked up at the chalet. Pulling the faraday bag from the pouch, she ran her hand over it. A corner of a strip lifted under her fingers. She gripped the flap and peeled it from around the bag. It was thick, much thicker than a stylish band. Of course, Jordy would want a way to find the bag if was stolen. Dropping the strip on the leaves, Warlock turned east and stumbled away from the tracking device.

  ***

  Warlock looked at the leaves and the stems of the ferns at eye level. Sometime in the night, she’d stopped on the steep slope and fallen asleep. Marines don’t pass out, they simply take forced naps to refresh their bodies for combat. The rest wasn’t as important as the weak early morning light just touching the valley.

  Then, voices far down the slope carried to her and two helicopters skimmed the treetops over the mountain plateau. Feeling stronger but still dizzy, Warlock began to climb. An hour later, she found herself with a choice. Turn and follow the slope or continue into a small split in the mountain. Realizing her strength was fading, she staggered into the split. A stack of rotten trees blocked her way and she started to turn back.

  The beat of a helicopter’s blades announced the arrival of an aircraft. With no other option, Warlock used the last of her physical reserve and scrambled over the old trees. On the other side, she crumbled to the leaves and lay catching her breath. When she recovered, the Marine glanced around at her location. The split expanded to form a small hidden dale.

  Figuring she’d move away from the rotting tree trunks, Warlock stumbled forward then stopped. On her left, tree branches covered what appeared to be a hole in the mountain’s side. Light touched the ground and she didn’t see any bear or large animal tracks. Thinking it would be a good place to hold up, she went to investigate.

  ***

  Water trickled from somewhere deep in the cave. The sound drew the thirsty Marine away from the entrance and into the dark. Far in, her boots splashed and she reached down and scooped up a handful of water. It had no odor other than mineral. Lifting her goggle, Warlock scooped up another handful and studied the liquid with the UV scanner. There were no glowing creepy bugs or blotches of massed bacteria. So, she chanced a taste. It was fresh water, probably fed by an underground spring. After drinking a belly full, she crept back to where she could see the entrance, plopped down, and leaned against the wall. This time she allowed sleep to overtake her and she nodded off.

  Around noon she woke. The light outside wasn’t much brighter than when she entered the cave. Except in spots where beams of sunlight streamed through in dazzling rays. Warlock extracted an energy bar and sat munching peacefully watching the rays come and go as the leaves at the top of the trees blew in the gentle breeze. It was hypnotizing.

  Eventually, she untied the old bandage, applied some of Walden’s ointment to the wounds and tied on a fresh one. The bloody bandage she wrapped around the blade of her combat knife. After pulling the good water sack from her vest, she lit the bloody bandage and carried the torch back to the water.

  The natural features consisted of a small pool being feed from water cascading from the wall of the cave. The trickling sound came from the mini waterfall. On the other side of the pond, runoff vanished into a slot under a rock. Hold
ing up the torch, Warlock noticed some unnatural features.

  On the runoff side, someone had carved a ledge about two feet wide. Holding the light closer to the rock, she saw the marks from a pick axe. Diosa crossed the narrow ledge and moved deeper into the cave.

  Whoever had created the walkway had carved out shelves in the walls of the cave. Rusty pots and pans and a large coffee pot still held their shapes but were so thin the light leaked through holes in the metal. Before the bandage burned out, Warlock located a stack of moth eaten cloth. Taking a handful, she wrapped the fibers around the blade and relit the torch.

  Further back, the cave widened and she came across a table with a single chair. A rusty lantern sat in the center of the table. One other object, buried in a thick layer of dust, rested on the surface. Warlock leaned forward and blew some of the dust away. Reaching out with her injured arms, she picked up the object. After buffing the metal tab on her sleeve, it shined as well as the day it was minted.

  The Marine gazed at the gold of the old military medal. And she knew who had earned the award for bravery, carved the walkway and the shelves, built the table, and lived a hermit’s life in the mountains.

  “I am Master Sergeant Diosa Alberich, Galactic Council Marines Corps, retired,” Warlock spoke in her parade ground voice. Her words echoed around the cave. “I am sorry to disturb you Sergeant Rufus Tygo. But I have a problem. Do I leave you in peace or solve a Tygo family mystery?”

  The still air stirred and a breeze came from deeper in the cave. Gently, as if by an invisible hand, the flame of the torch was extinguished.

  “I understand,” Diosa said while rendering a hand salute. “Sergeant Rufus Tygo, rest in peace, sir.”

  Then she turned and picked her way through the dark until she located the pool. On the far side, she refilled her water sack and marched to the entrance of the cave.

  ***

  Late in the afternoon, Diosa stepped out of the cave and tapped her radio.

  “Poet, you up?” Warlock asked.

  “Warlock. What’s your status?” Walden replied. Static accompanied his voice.

  “I’m good to go,” she assured him. “Picked up a scratch but I’m treating it.”

  “Your area of operation is crowded,” he said between scratchy static. “Can you hold out another forty-eight hours?”

  “I’m safe,” she reported. “Should I walk out and meet you?”

  “That’s a negative, Warlock,” he reported. “The mountain is crawling with Uno and private security forces. And they have air support. Also, if I land the gunship, we’ll need to find another ride. Forty-eight hours, confirmed?”

  “Confirmed,” Warlock replied.

  Now she knew where the rockets had come from and why the long delay from launch to impact. Walden had gone to Orbital Station and swapped the shuttle for the Talon’s gunship. The compound had been targeted and the rockets fired from a suborbital altitude. It was a nice display of accuracy by Poet. Luckily, he hadn’t brought the roof down on her head.

  The forty-eight hours was the turnaround time to retrieve the shuttle. While a gunship could operate in an atmosphere, the stress on the ion wall would require extensive maintenance to repair the damage. Warlock hoped they had the Pesetas in the budget. Beyond the damage of flying near a planet, landing presented its own problem. Walden could land safely but the ion cannons were incapable of lifting most gunships against a planet’s gravity. A shuttle was required for flights onto and off of heavy gravity worlds.

  When he returned, they would set an extraction location. In the meantime, she had nothing to do but rest in the serenity of Rufus Tygo’s cave.

  Chapter – 27 Command Station

  The Marine sentry scanned the documents and looked at the first of the visitors.

  He was average build and his picture matched his name and credentials.

  The second visitor caused the Marine to pause and double check. She wore a goggle over her right eye, had the physique of an athlete and a field dressing, with a spot of blood, tied around her left arm. But none of those attributes made him apprehensive. It was the steady gaze of her left eye, as she scanned his duty uniform, looking for imperfections.

  “Cleared. Open the gate,” he called out. Then he handed the visitors their credentials and he said. “Thank you, Mr. Geboren, Miss Alberich for your patience. Please go through the gate and have a nice day.”

  Walden and Diosa approached and the gate was opened by one of the two armored Marines stationed inside the fencing.

  “The security checkpoint is new,” commented Diosa. “It must be a response to the attack.”

  “Or they knew you were coming,” Walden teased. “I’ve alerted a clean-up crew just in case the inquisition goes sideways.”

  “Stow it Poet. We’ll be fine,” Diosa assured him. “Today’s a good day, nobody dies.”

  They entered a lift and turned, waiting for the doors to close. One of the Marines on the gate detail was speaking into a mic. The doors closed and the car shot up to the administrative level. When it stopped, they walked out and were met by two more armored Marines.

  “I’m sensing a pattern,” fretted Walden.

  “It’s just station security,” Diosa commented. When the Marines fell in behind and followed them towards the conference room, she wasn’t so sure.

  “We should have taken a tour of the Galactic Council Realm instead of making directly for Command Station,” Walden moaned. “A fun flight after the fateful fight. A tour of scenic sites would have been royally right and given us some space and insight.”

  “Poet, pull yourself together,” advised Diosa.

  They pushed open the door and walked into a midsized conference room.

  ***

  The Marines followed them in and, at a hand motion from a Marine Corps Captain, the escorts took up positions on the other side of the doorway. Warlock glanced down noticing the Captain wore a sidearm. Some of Poet’s jitters transferred to her.

  “We’ve had former military personnel go off the rails before,” an Admiral stated. “But never have we had the mayhem caused by you two.”

  There were two men in suits sitting on either side of the Admiral. One of them cleared his throat and read from a screen.

  “Uno Orbital Control and Air Traffic Control have lodged charges against a shuttle for misrepresentation,” the man said. “And Uno Defense Command has placed warrants against an armed gunship that discharged rockets from the stratosphere at private property. Rockets, I might add, that killed a private citizen’s security force and caused extensive damage to his property. Walden Geboren, you stand accused of these crimes. What do you have to say in your defense?”

  Everyone in the room waited for Walden to reply to the charges. Before he could, Diosa laughed.

  “So that’s what happened to the rest of the shooters,” announced Warlock. “Good work Poet. You saved my bacon.”

  Walden’s mouth fell open and the second suit at the table grabbed the screen and pulled it to him.

  “I see we have a witness to the crimes,” the second man mumbled as he made a note on the screen. “And by her statement, Diosa Alberich, although second hand, admits to her association with and confirms the actions of Walden Geboren. Is that correct?”

  “Indeed, I do. It was a masterful piece of piloting and targeting,” Diosa bragged. “I don’t know one in a hundred pilots who could have pulled it off.”

  The man made more notes and slid the screen back to the first suit. By then, Walden was blabbering incoherently and his entire body was shaking.

  “And you, Diosa Alberich, are charged with multiple murders, kidnapping, unlawful detainment and physical assault,” he accused. “Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

  “You didn’t include grand theft,” she replied. “I wonder why that wasn’t included. Can you explain that?”

  The suit scrolled through tab after tab searching for the charge. While he scrolled, the Admiral, who hadn’t added a
nything since his opening statement, looked from the nervous Poet to the rock steady Warlock.

  “Admiral. May I ask a few questions?” Diosa requested as she lifted the goggle while walking towards the table.

  The Admiral held up a hand to stop the Marines who moved as Warlock approached the table.

  “Clean up crew?” mumbled Walden.

  “No, Poet. Just a few questions,” Diosa assured her pilot. She leaned on the table with both arms. The field dressing protested the pressure by spreading two spots of blood over the surface of the cloth. “Gentlemen. Please humor me. You seem to have an incomplete list of charges stemming from my assault on the Katrijn estate.”

  At the mention of Katrijn, one suit gushed carbon dioxide and the Admiral reeked of ammonia. The other suit was unaffected as he continued to search.

  “There should be charges of urban terrorism, willful destruction of property, public endangerment, and breaking and entering at Jordy Katrijn’s condo,” she offered. “But those charges didn’t make your list.”

  Now the Admiral was visibly sweating and the second suit joined him.

  “Those charges should be added,” advised the first man as he stopped searching and began writing on the screen.

  Warlock straightened, reached up and positioned the goggle over her eye. Then she stepped back.

  “What we have here is a Star Chamber Council,” she advised. “A secret trial for a couple of rogue former military personnel. Poet, we may need the clean-up crew after all.”

  Her declaration to Walden was prompted when the Admiral pointed at the Marine Captain.

  “Arrest them and take them to the brig,” the Admiral ordered. “And be sure to search them. I’ll be along shortly to personally supervise.”

  Warlock bent her knees and prepared to go down fighting. Why not? The charges were extensive enough, a simple resisting arrest would mean nothing.

  The door slammed open startling everyone in the room. A JAG officer strutted in and stepped to the side.