by Allen Stroud
With luck and diligence, Pietro had picked his way through the training and earned his place in the agency. The intelligence and monitoring division offered a varied and interesting career, rather than action or xenomorphic science. Natural curiosity and the solving of puzzles found a home in the investigation office. His lips quirked into an involuntarily smile. Probably how I ended up here.
His mind turned to the matters ahead. If he got away from the soldiers, he’d have to contend with Renner’s associates. The whole situation didn’t make sense. Why cut me loose like this? For a Federal agent to be fed to the wolves required a lot to be at stake, politically or economically. He recalled Miranda’s voice, she'd known when they’d last spoken. His death was on record, so they might not change all codes and passwords. Without access to an FTL transmitter, there’d be little chance of sending a message off-world and a slimmer chance anyone would listen. Lave would have an ambassador, but asylum would be difficult to request, not to mention getting there before the local security caught up with him. An extraction might be possible, but that would go against everything the Federation had done so far. Better off without them.
The faint noise of an engine disturbed his reflections. Pietro glanced up. A cloud of dust appeared on the southern horizon; a ground vehicle of some sort, heading in his direction. Pietro tried to walk faster, but the stabbing pain in his knee wouldn’t let him. He shaded his eyes and attempted to judge their speed. They’d be on him fast, in fifteen or twenty minutes if they drove straight ahead. He hefted the rifle and flicked off the safety. A little further on, he spotted three tree stumps around a clump of rocks, not much cover, but there wasn’t anything else before the ridge. If the pursuit were following a trail, that’s where they’d expect him to be. Only problem is, I don’t have any other choices.
Pietro hurried to the stones and threw himself behind them. He guessed pursuit was still some distance away, which gave him time to prepare. He cursed that he hadn’t found more grenades, but they weren’t powerful and wouldn’t be much good against a vehicle. He checked the rifle magazine, nearly full but no reload, unless he picked up another weapon.
The engine noise stopped. Pietro peered out. They’d halted somewhere near where he’d ambushed the first patrol. He glanced over his shoulder at the ridge; higher ground, always an advantage, but still a long walk in the open. Anyone with a magnified viewer would quickly locate him, but the other option, to stay and watch them follow a trail right up to his position, seemed like suicide.
Either way I’m in trouble.
His head pounding, Pietro got down on the ground and started to crawl.
* * *
‘We must get moving.’
‘She can’t, she’s too sick.’
‘Then we leave her behind.’
Gebrial stared at the blurring figure looming above her. She struggled to sit up, but her body felt heavy, like solid lead. She tried to speak and reply, but her tongue was thick and swollen. Saliva ran down her chin.
Renner’s face appeared out of the blur, close to hers. ‘If we go, she’ll die.’
A hand touched her forehead and fingers pressed her neck. ‘High temperature and an irregular pulse,’ said another voice; she remembered the man’s name, Pasion. ‘The rendezvous point is an hour from here and my days of hauling carts or carrying ladies are long gone. It’s her or your dead friend.’
‘Rendezvous point?’ Renner said. ‘You were waiting for us?’
‘Of course,’ Pasion said.
‘How did you know where we were?’
‘You think an orbital crash doesn’t make the news? Your ship lit up the sky across half of Lave.’
‘So, who’re we meeting?’
Pasion chuckled. ‘You’ve been off planet too long Tobias Renner. I recognised you the minute I saw you. You look like your father did at your age.’
‘You met him?’
‘Yes, but there isn’t time to get into that. Right now, we need to focus on making a decision.’
Hands under her shoulders and knees; the weight vanished as she was lifted into the air. ‘We can’t leave her,’ Renner said, ‘so we leave the body.’
‘A wise choice,’ Pasion said.
‘Will your friends have vehicles and supplies?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then we come back,’ Renner said, ‘because we’ve another friend still out there and we want them both.’
Chapter 22: The Plague
‘What am I looking at Cassom?’
Pixelated photographs lay all over the table in the senior officer’s meeting room. Jander picked up one and traced a finger across the image. ‘These look like a cluster of ships, something I should be worried about?’
‘Not entirely sure, sir,’ Cassom said. ‘But chatter suggests a haulage flotilla, mustering to head to Diso. Orange Star is the state corporation running it and that’ll mean a draw off of other fleet assets.’
Jander stared at the different images. ‘These were taken from the edge of the system.’
‘Yes sir, with fermi-based spectral enhancement,’ Cassom explained.
‘You’re working to identify the vessels?’
‘Yes, but it’s proving difficult. Many of the designs are unfamiliar to us and don’t feature in our database.’ She faced him directly. ‘I was thinking about recruiting some local help?’
Jander frowned. ‘You’d need to be very careful. Reaching out to anyone in the region would announce our interest. For now, they accept us as hired escorts for Wreaken. I wouldn’t want our presence getting back to the Lave authorities.’
‘I understand, sir,’ Cassom replied. ‘But you did say investigate.’
‘I did.’ Jander walked to the corner of the room and keyed up the region’s orrery. Tiny projectors came on and Lave appeared, the orange dwarf star glowing faintly, seven light years from the Furnace’s position around Quator. ‘I asked you to assess them in terms of their threat to us on this mission. I’m not sure about recruiting local analysts; it would expose us to some unnecessary attention.’ He gestured at the display and the dot representing the Furnace expanded. ‘Our battle group is here and with rotation, we maintain an active escort of three vessels, plus our compliment of fighters. We want to avoid a concerted effort to drive us out. Is that what you think this build up of ships may be?’
Cassom shrugged. ‘My guess would be no, sir, but their planetary communications are secure. I’ve tried breaking into the broadcast channels, but it’s impossible from this distance. The whole infrastructure is set up to keep us out. I can’t make a decent guess on what the muster is until I have more information and I can’t get more information with what resources we have onboard.’
‘Indeed.’ Jander ground his teeth in frustration. ‘Hail the Havillard and speak to Mister Ferris, perhaps he can act as an intermediary. That way it might not look as obvious.’
Cassom nodded. ‘Of course, sir.’
‘That’s all then. Dismissed.’
Cassom saluted and started to gather up the photographs. ‘No, leave those,’ Jander said. She nodded again and walked out, leaving the admiral alone.
Jander picked up a picture, showing Lave’s solitary planet and the orbiting station; a Coriolis, making its way out of the sun glare. They don’t make many of those anymore. He selected another. This one showed a set of indistinct shadows against the starfield, gathering together just as Cassom said. Until they were identified, every shape could be a threat.
A red light flicked on one of the panels and Commander Ennis’ face appeared on the small intercom viewscreen. ‘Admiral?’
Jander pressed the responder and spoke into the mic. ‘What is it?’
‘We’ve picked up another ship, sir,’ Ennis said, ‘they hyperspaced in a fair distance away and started heading towards us. They’ve requested comms.’
Jander frowned. ‘Your assessment?’ he asked.
‘An Imperial ship, Courier-class.’
‘Many people are kno
wn to buy Imperial ships, Commander,’ Jander said, ‘but, if it’s heading here, that could mean something.’
‘They’ve asked for a closed channel with you, sir,’ Ennis said.
‘I see,’ Jander put down the pictures and sat at the table. He pressed two buttons on the console and the orrery map disappeared, to be replaced by Ennis’ face. ‘Put them through.’
‘Yes sir.’
Ennis vanished, replaced by another man. A headset and visor, both of imperial style, marked him out as the pilot. ‘Are you the leader of this expedition?’ the man said.
‘I’m Admiral Jander, yes.’ Jander replied.
‘One moment,’ the man said and a woman appeared, wearing a hooded ceremonial gown.
‘Admiral,’ the woman said. ‘I am Martha Godwina, Imperial ambassador to Lave. We have much to talk about ...’
* * *
A bullet ricocheted off the stones next to Pietro’s shoulder and he froze immediately. A moment later, the sound of the gunshot echoed across the open ground.
They’d found him.
He stayed motionless on the lower part of the incline, roughly a hundred metres from the top and cover. Vehicle engine noise confirmed their next move. Either the shot had been a warning and they wanted him alive, or they were coming to confirm the kill. He knew he wouldn’t have much chance with the latter. As soon as the vehicle stopped, someone would get out and put two bullets in his back. No one took chances with a fugitive who’d already killed five pursuers.
When he heard the engine rev up, he started moving again; a fast crawl-climb, ignoring the stabbing pain in his knee and the throbbing in his head. A shot from the vehicle would be tricky, so he had a chance of getting to the top. Hands and feets scrabbled over the dust and rock. To help, he took more weight on his arms, hauling himself up the steepening slope.
Another gunshot and another bullet slapped into the dirt nearby, but this time Pietro didn’t stop. Pursuit was close, but so was the top of the incline. He risked a few feet more and flipped onto his back, bringing up his rifle as the engine noise slowed to idle.
At the bottom of the rise, a four-wheeled buggy had pulled up. Three figures were inside, one aiming a gun with a long barrel. Pietro cursed, they were intentionally out of range for him, the plan, plainly to pick him off on the side of the hill. I turned around just in time, he thought and smiled bitterly.
Another gunshot rang out and Pietro winced before realising it had come from a different direction, behind him. In the buggy, the figure holding the rifle slumped forwards. The driver gunned the engine and the vehicle pulled away, racing back across the barren ground.
Pietro glanced up, but he didn’t see anyone on the top of the rise. ‘Gebrial?’ he called out. ‘Renner?’
No one answered. He turned over again and started crawling. Moments later he was on the flat crest. He pulled himself clear of the edge and onto his feet, wincing once more at the pain in his knee.
‘You’re a long way from the Federation out here, Mister Devander.’
Pietro squinted into the light. An old man stood a few feet away over the other side, shouldering another long barrelled rifle. ‘Lucky for you I’m a better shot than those folks,’ he said.
‘I wouldn’t call that luck,’ Pietro said.
The old man shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t either,’ he said. ‘My name is Pasion. Your friends are a little further on down this side with my friends. It’ll take us half an hour to reach them. After that, we need to disappear before LaveSec sends more bodies than we can handle.’
‘Fine by me,’ Pietro said, limping forwards. ‘Where are we going?’
Pasion smiled. ‘The name of the place would be meaningless to you,’ he said. His eyes flicked to Pietro’s leg. ‘Can you manage?’
‘Yes,’ Pietro said. ‘Not going to let this stop me.’ His head was pounding and he could feel the shakes starting as the adrenalin high faded.
Pasion didn’t seem convinced. ‘Your friend has been taken ill,’ he said. ‘I need to know you can make it.’
‘I’ll make it,’ Pietro said.
‘Good, then let’s get going,’ Pasion replied, turning away and walking off down the hill.
* * *
‘I require an update, Colonel.’
‘I am sorry Prefect, but I have nothing to tell you.’
Bertrum ground his teeth. It was an effort of will to keep his expression calm and impassive as he stared at the grey eyes of the senior military figure on the viewscreen. He wasn’t sure how well he’d managed this as Colonel Travens’ own face remained schooled in attentive neutrality. ‘Colonel, your comms officer informed me of the transmission difficulties you were suffering yesterday. Now, I request the information promised and I get you. Are you saying you still can’t contact the mission team at the crash site?’
Travens’ lip twitched before he spoke. ‘I am saying, Prefect, we have nothing to tell you at this juncture.’
‘Are you withholding information?’
‘I would remind you, as a military operation, we are only bound to report to Doctor Walden.’
Bertrum glared. Inside he was furious, but venting wouldn’t help. Despite the rank pips on his shoulder, Travens remained a cog in the machine. Instead his fingers flicked the off switch and the man’s face abruptly disappeared.
Bertrum sat back and took a deep breath. Now what do I do? For the first time in a long while, his office in Ashoria seemed inadequate to his needs. Things were happening and staying here offered no advantage. I can sit and sleepwalk into becoming irrelevant, he thought, or I can ...
He pressed the intercom. ‘Arrange my shuttle for immediate departure please.’
‘Of course, Prefect,’ Gramos replied. ‘What destination?’
‘Kadia,’ Bertrum said. ‘I’m heading home to spend some time with my wife and family.’
‘Understood, sir, the shuttle will be prepared in ten minutes.’
Bertrum stood up and accompanied by the faint whine of servos, made straight for the door.
* * *
Gebrial was unwell and being carried. The rocking motion and bright blur of sunlight told her she hadn’t been asleep long. The name of the planet wouldn’t come to mind, Kave? Mave? No, neither of those.
The strong arms holding her belonged to a man. She couldn’t remember who, only that they had a complicated relationship and she didn’t entirely trust him. Perhaps it was her father, a man she’d learned not to trust? He cared, but he’d never let her make her own mistakes, always trying to protect her, even when she didn’t need protecting. He’d been the same with her mother, but she’d accepted her lot.
Running away had been the only option. A life of privilege, wealth and restriction awaited Gebrial if she’d stayed or went back. In the Empire, a patrician’s daughter would never be denied any material comfort, but was expected to be loyal and obey. If she’d stayed, a marriage would have been arranged and she would have been packed off to another gilded cage.
A life she knew would never content her.
She remembered falling asleep in the cave after running from something. Perhaps her father had found her there and was taking her back. Her head felt it’d been pounded with hammers. She stirred weakly and struggled against the strong grip of the arms, provoking a grunt from her captor. ‘Hush girl, be still,’ he said. She ignored him and wriggled, but he held her tighter, so she gave up. For now.
The light grew brighter and then the arms disappeared, to be replaced by a hard metallic floor. Gebrial pressed her hands to it and tried to sit up, but the effort proved too much and brought flickering fireflies to her blurred vision. Straps were pulled around her waist and wrists and she heard the click of safety buckles. Then an engine kicked into life and her bright blurry world became uncomfortable as she bounced against the straps and the metal plate. For a moment, she thought the buffeting might crack her tender skull, but there was enough give in the harness and the vehicle settled down.
‘Won’
t be long,’ said a voice, ‘couple of hours at most.’
Gebrial prayed it would be less, but hadn’t the strength to argue. She tried to shift position but even that tired her. Why am I so weak? Was it delayed shock or something about the planet perhaps? She remembered being ill as a child, waking at night screaming from fever-induced nightmares, but nothing like this.
Her throat dried out with each wheezing breath. As if in answer to her silent plea, water dribbled into her mouth. She tried to swallow but failed and started to cough; the great hacking gasps were like knives cutting her throat.
‘Can your people help her?’ A man’s voice, familiar, but she couldn’t remember why.
‘They’ll try,’ someone replied, another man.
‘Any idea what it is?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine. The fact they’re both showing signs, suggests something you brought here on that ship.’
‘Then how come I’m not sick?’
‘Again, I don’t know.’
‘Could she die?’
‘Maybe.’
Gebrial closed her eyes and the bright blur became a welcome darkness; the rocking against the metal deck rhythmic, almost soothing. She was tired, more tired than she could ever remember. It was like being young again, being held and protected, being ...
Chapter 23: The Admiral
Admiral Bryce Jander sat in his chair and watched the viewscreen as the ensign pilot maneuvered the shuttle towards the Imperial Courier. ‘Don’t make them nervous, Anders,’ he said. ‘Nice and smooth please, they’re already skittish enough.’
‘Yes sir.’
‘Don’t trust Imperials anyway,’ Commander Ennis growled from his seat on the other side, ‘nothing but weasel words and empty air.’
‘I get the feeling there’ll be substance from Ambassador Godwina,’ Jander replied. ‘She wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t desperate.’
Ennis’ face screwed into a gloating smile. ‘Chance to screw them?’
Jander shrugged. ‘A chance to get more information, which I’m not going to pass up. I need you to follow my lead.’