There was an interminable wait after the light turned to green before the door started to cycle open. Everyone, other than the Motar crew, slowly started edging back from the doors. Ferguson raised his weapon before checking the ammo. There was every chance that, if he did start shooting, he was liable to put a hole in the fuselage.
Four people approached them through the pressure doors. Three men and one woman, though there was no questioning who the leader was. Saratova towered over the others. LaCruz recognised her companions straightaway, or at least she identified their type. Hard handed killers for the most part, anxious for any opportunity to demonstrate their skills. All it would take was a word from their leader who, for her part, seemed very relaxed, clutching her plasma rifle like it was some kind of fashion accessory.
She took in the room at a glance, her gaze coming to rest on LaCruz.
LaCruz didn’t look away.
Saratova strode past her welcoming committee, ignoring Ferguson completely. She went and stood in the middle of the room and looked around as if this were her ship and everyone else was trespassing. She quickly took in the various groups of engineers and scientists, but it was the Marines who monopolised her attention. While none of them were currently bearing arms – at Markham’s insistence – that situation could soon change.
The man to Saratova’s left seemed strangely familiar, his hair was unnaturally white, his flesh so pink that he looked as if it’d been freshly flayed. He used his gun to beckon Ferguson over. A summons.
Ferguson went over to him on his own. To have taken his men with him would have been an admission of being fearful.
He and the albino stood together, their heads nearly touching as they talked.
When they’d finished, the albino went back to speak with Saratova. She listened but didn’t seem impressed. After a while, she unslung her rifle and handed it over to the albino. Then, one of Ferguson’s men led her across to the main entrance. After a brief pause, the doors slid open and Noah Kapinsky stepped through. He looked fresh faced and eager.
To LaCruz it looked like he was dressed to go on a date.
They chatted briefly before Saratova slipped her arm into his and off they went.
Once they’d gone, everyone seemed to relax. Ferguson lit a cigarette and the albino went over to his men, indicating for them to lower their weapons. They were in for a long wait.
Markham said, “What do you reckon?”
“That other guy,” LaCruz said, pointing to her head. “Looks familiar. Not sure where I’ve seen him before though.”
“Face like that – difficult to forget.”
“I’ll get it eventually. What do we do now?”
“Wait and see. Way I figure it, she’s over here trying to work out profit and loss. She’s seen an opportunity here and she’ll be sure to capitalise on it.”
“Looks to me like she’d happily jettison the lot of us.”
“I get that. But she’s going to have to tread carefully. Our captain might not be up to much, but Ferguson’s lot aren’t going down without a fight. You get a look at that rail gun Ferguson’s carrying?”
“Do a lot of damage with something like that.”
“Which means she’s going to think twice before starting anything.”
“I don’t think that’s her style anyway.”
“What’re you thinking?”
“Why would she put herself at risk when she’s got Captain Noah eating out of her hand. Strikes me, all she has to do is give the word and next thing we’re learning to space walk without a suit. It’s not rocket science.”
“Okay,” Markham said. “But, if you’re right, why hasn’t that happened already?”
LaCruz scanned the room but came up blank.
“You know, that’s a very good question.”
CHAPTER 4
Faulkner returned to the bridge after taking a trip down to the officer’s mess to grab some dinner. The stewards tended to fill up his plate whenever he went down there, but Faulkner was fine with that. Since his operation he’d developed a voracious appetite. It was almost like he was tasting food for the first time. He had periods when he just felt ravenous as though his body was crying out for extra nutrients. His doctors had been thrilled when they saw that he’d put on ten kilos in weight - though he had been extremely emaciated when he’d first come aboard. The pleasing thing about this though was that a lot of this new weight had been muscle, pure and simple. His legs in particular feeling more solid than they had in years.
He was sleeping better too, which came as another pleasant surprise. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such restful nights, not that he expected that to continue. Once they came within striking distance of the enemy there’d be little opportunity for rest of any kind. He was going to be kept on his toes for the foreseeable future though, he had to admit, it was a prospect he was looking forward to.
Something about his general demeanour had changed, that was for sure, and he seemed to have finally thrown off the long bout of depression which had dogged him since his arrival on the Renheim.
Schwartz was occupying the command chair when Faulkner returned to the bridge but, as she made to get up, he noticed for the first time how much of an effort that was for her. Her uniform was tighter around the midriff and he wondered how long it would be before she was forced to find an alternative. It was an odd thing to see a pregnant woman on the bridge of a starship and it wasn’t something he thought he’d ever get used to.
Faulkner didn’t take his seat straight away. He stood and considered the screens which were tracking the Loki. McNeill had carefully planned a series of accelerations, or ‘boosts’, which would provide them with the velocity necessary to close on their rival and, so far, everything seemed to be playing out accordingly. Even the slight change of course that the Loki had embarked on hadn’t altered things much either way. Faulkner suspected that the captain of the other ship had come to the same conclusion, since he hadn’t tried to repeat the maneuver.
It was a simple mathematical problem now. So long as the Loki didn’t do something completely unprecedented– which wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility – it could only be a simple matter of time before they finally ran her down.
But then, if that were the case, why was he feeling so anxious? It was almost as if he expected them to fail, and that wasn’t good. As the officer commanding, he felt he had to approach every encounter from a positive standpoint and, certainly, that had been his experience in the past. But this was different, and that’s what worried him.
Perhaps he was just too old for this stuff?
Or perhaps he’d learned that, as far as the Da’al were concerned, you couldn’t take anything for granted. Perhaps an attitude of cautious pessimism might serve him best in the long run.
“Sensors. Are we still keeping an eye on Loki’s comms transmissions?”
“Aye, sir. She’s managed to send off two tight beam communications in the direction of her sister ships. They’re both encrypted. Lieutenant Stan is working on them.”
“Signalling the Thor, no doubt,” he said speculatively. “There’s nothing else in this part of the system, is there?”
“Nothing so far,” Schwartz replied.
“Good. Let’s hope we can keep it that way.”
Schwartz came to stand beside him.
“Something bothering you, sir?”
Faulkner was tempted to brush-off her enquiries but for some reason he didn’t.
“It’s nothing really. Just that course change, earlier. I know it’s nothing, but it did set me to thinking.”
Schwartz eyebrows arched. “Ambush?”
“Exactly. Good to see that I’m not the only paranoid one around here.”
“It’s the only possible scenario that makes sense – only we’ve no evidence of any other Da’al ships in the area.”
“True. And, even if there were, they’d have had to fire up their engines in order to facilitate an interce
pt.”
“In which case, we’d have spotted them by now.”
“You’re saying all the right things,” Faulkner said. “Yet for some reason I still can’t relax.”
Schwartz’s hand went to her ear then, her thoughts suddenly elsewhere.
“Excuse me, sir. I’m going to have to check on this.”
Faulkner watched as she went over to Navigation and, normally, that would have been the end of things. He had to allow Schwartz to get on with her job, he couldn’t be expected to stay on top of everything. But there was something in her reaction to the comms call which had piqued his interest, so he went over and watched what she was doing. He couldn’t quite make out what was being said but there was no denying that Schwartz seemed rattled by something.
Not like her at all.
Finally, he could bear it no longer.
“Anything I can help with?”
As a junior officer he’d always resented this kind of interference from the OC and here he was doing it himself.
When Schwartz turned to confront him, he saw that her nose, her cheeks, even the tips of her ears had a rosy pink hue about them.
“Seems that they’ve spotted something.”
“What is it?”
“We’re just in the process of finding out. Though it doesn’t look good.”
*
Noah called his brother from the cockpit of the Motar. It was cramped and hot and smelled of sweat and burnt polymers but it had a lockable door and a decent comms system. That way, he hoped they’d be able to keep their conversation private and away from prying ears.
Tomas must have been having similar thoughts because he chose to accept the call in his quarters. When their father had occupied the captain’s cabin he’d kept everything neat and well-ordered with nothing out of place but from what Noah could see, Tomas obviously did not subject himself to the same high standards. The place was a mess with discarded food and drink containers all over the place.
“How are things holding up on your end?” Tomas began.
“Fine. Everything’s fine. Look, I’ll going to get straight down to it: I’ve decided to stick with the job.”
This announcement was met with a protracted pause.
“Say again.”
“The contract. I’m going to go ahead with it. I just thought you should know.”
Tomas gave him a comic scowl. “On your own. I mean, in the Motar?”
“For your information, I’ve found myself a new business partner.”
“Okay. Now, this I just have to hear.”
“I’ve already spoken with Elina and we’ve worked it all out. We’re going to work on this together.”
As Tomas processed this new information his face drained of color. “You’re kidding me, right? Noah, you’re not serious.”
“I couldn’t be more serious. I contacted Elina yesterday, told her about my plans. Obviously, she’s got her own ship but she doesn’t have the right equipment to set up a proper tow – which is where I come in.”
Tomas’ face loomed large on the screen. “Noah, tell me that you didn’t make a deal with that woman.”
“Heay, I thought I had a deal with you, Tomas. I thought we were partners. Only, the first time we’re ready to make some serious money you go behind my back.”
“This isn’t happening,” Tomas said, but then a thought occurred to him. “Have you spoken to Winterson about this?”
“Didn’t need to. Elina’s already sorted that side. Soon as he realised you were no longer up for the job, he approached her. She’s going to be in overall charge of the operation with me in support. Simple, really.”
Tomas let out a roar of frustration. “Only the Motar doesn’t belong to you, does it? It belongs to the company.”
“Look, if we’re breaking up the family firm, that’s fine. And I think it’s only reasonable for me to take my fair share of the assets. That includes the Motar, so I’m taking it. End of story.”
“And what about the others? Ferguson and the rest? You talked to them about this? You haven’t have you?”
“They’re fine with it,” he lied. “Unlike you, they’re not afraid to take a few risks, here and there.”
That was still his biggest concern: the idea that they might choose not to back him. But Elina had promised she’d help him with that part of things. Help bring them around.
Tomas was taking a moment to collect himself, rubbing at his eyes until they were bright red.
“Look, Noah. I’m begging you not to do this. You don’t know what you’re getting into. Please, do not get into partnership with that woman.”
“’Wow! ‘That woman!’ That’s pretty harsh considering you two used to be a thing.”
“Yes, Noah. We used to be a thing, but I ended it. Did you never wonder why that was?”
“No, and frankly, I couldn’t care less. You’re lucky I even bothered to contact you.”
He moved to end the transmission.
“Look, Noah, just listen to me for a moment, will you. There’s things about this woman you don’t know…”
“Yeah, right. Listen, I don’t know and I don’t want to know,” he waved at the screen. “Bye, big brother. See you when I’m rich.”
“Noah, listen!”
But Noah had already cut the link. He sat there staring at his reflection in the screen.
He’d been anticipating this moment for years. The day when he finally managed to out-do his older brother. It was always going to happen, so long as Tomas remained shackled to the family business, happy to roll along taking whichever contracts passed their way while never having the acumen to pursue the big opportunities when they came along. It was almost as if he was frightened of them being successful. That was the difference between the pair of them and that was why Noah was always going to come out on top.
He just hadn’t expected it to happen quite so quickly.
And, so now, instead of revelling in his triumph, all he could think about as he reflected on what had been said was how whiny he’d sounded at the end. Like some little kid throwing a temper tantrum. No, he wasn’t particularly proud of that. But Tomas had had it coming. Considering that they both held an equal share in the company, Tomas had been taking the lead for far too long, routinely disregarding any contribution his younger brother had to make.
Well, now things had changed and it would be Tomas now observing from the side lines.
Not that Noah was taking any real pleasure in any of this. He was angry, yes. Frustrated, definitely. But all that would pass. Change was now inevitable, which wasn’t the same as ‘easy,’ especially where family members were concerned.
He felt a sudden urge to be with Elina right then. He just wanted to be close to her because if anyone could understand what was going on between the two brothers, it would be her.
*
“What the hell is going on?”
Kerrigan stumbled as he was propelled through the door to Winterson’s infirmary room.
“That’s odd, captain. I was about to ask you the very same question.
Sergeant Duvall stood in the doorway scowling at Kerrigan.
“Thank you, sergeant. That’ll be all.”
Duvall kept his eyes locked on Kerrigan as he closed the door.
Kerrigan walked around the room testing his shoulder joint. Vincenzi, who was seated on the other side of the room smiled in acknowledgement as though this kind of thing happened all the time.
Winterson had spent the morning having skin grafts applied to his right forearm. They’d grown the new skin using some of his own DNA effectively avoiding the chance that the new cells might be rejected. His arm was still numb from the anaesthetic and he was having difficulty using his right hand but, other than that, everything had gone off successfully. The same couldn’t be said for his eye socket though which was throbbing incessantly.
Kerrigan stood at the foot of the bed, straightening his uniform.
“Admiral, I have to pro
test at this level of treatment. I am the acting captain of this ship and as such deserve a certain level of respect. You can’t just send your man down to drag me off the bridge every time you want something.”
“We had an appointment at sixteen hundred hours,” Winterson said, his voice calm and even. “And I expect my officers to honor their commitments regardless of what might be happening elsewhere. Unless of course there was an emergency of some kind.”
Kerrigan refused to meet his gaze, just stood there working the muscle in his jaw.
“And was that the case, captain?” When Kerrigan didn’t answer he went on. “No, I thought not. Please attend future meetings promptly or next time it won’t be Sergeant Duvall I’ll be sending. I’ll have a Marine escort secure you in your cabin. Regardless of what may have occurred, I remain your commanding officer. Is that understood?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Good. I’d like to receive your briefing now. Go ahead.”
Winterson listened while Kerrigan blustered his way through his poorly curated notes, nodding occasionally while allowing the frequent pauses in Kerrigan’s presentation to highlight the captain’s disarray. He’d assumed that after the morning’s medical procedure, Winterson would have cancelled – only he hadn’t. Though, on reflection, Winterson wondered if that might not have been the wiser course of action. He was still a long way from being declared fit for duty.
That was why he wanted Vincenzi along for this. The man’s mind was as sharp as a razor and he’d be only too quick to highlight any shortcomings in Kerrigan’s long-term plan. Winterson often wondered what he was doing in the service. With his background in law he could no doubt make a fortune as a corporate lawyer which would better suit his temperament. For while he was both fiercely loyal and highly effective in the roles that he’d been given, he displayed little relish to take on a more hands-on role. Winterson thought he was far too bookish to effectively command a battleship, for example, and Vincenzi for his part seemed to agree.
Cry of War: A Military Space Adventure Series Page 7