“Yes, sir!”
“I’ll be anxiously awaiting reports from both of you.” Calvin then darted out of the head, through the barracks, and into HQ. The attending soldiers seemed confused by his presence—they were probably unaware of the recent murder. When asked if they could help him, Calvin ignored them and proceeded directly to the nearest comm panel and hailed the bridge.
“Bridge, this is the captain. Set condition one throughout the ship. And implement code fifteen. I repeat. Implement code fifteen.”
“Yes, sir.”
He left HQ and jogged for the nearest elevator that would take him to the bridge. As he ran, he heard Summers’ voice come over the shipwide intercom. Drowning out the deck-by-deck emergency klaxon. “Attention all hands, this is Commander Pressley. Code fifteen is active. I repeat, code fifteen is active. This is not a drill. All off-duty personnel are ordered to their quarters immediately and required to remain until further notice. All decks are locked down and all active personnel are on continuous duty. Effective immediately.”
They were only hours away from Remus Nine, and perhaps the most crucial mission of their lives, and now there was a killer on the ship. A killer and a hostile informant. Far too many dangerous loose ends...
***
Calvin had scarcely reached his office when a call came in from HQ. It was Pellew. He’d identified the victim.
“The slain soldier is Staff Sergeant Gary Patterson.”
The name clicked in Calvin’s mind. “He was one of the two who interfered with the Polarian religious service, wasn’t he?”
“That’s right. This killing was probably retribution.”
If so, then Rez’nac had been wrong about his people. They were unwilling to let by-gones be by-gones. Calvin worried that this would be the beginning of a war between the dominant two species on the Nighthawk.
“Were any Polarians seen on deck one around the time of the killing?” asked Calvin.
“Not that I know of. But it’s not like I have surveillance cameras in the barracks and corridors. One or two might have gone totally unnoticed.”
“I see. What about Alldroit, wasn’t he in the barracks at the time?”
“No, he wasn’t. He was in the mess hall, in defiance of orders to remain in the barracks. I have suspended him from duty and placed him in the brig.”
“So then no one was near Patterson at the time of the killing?”
“That seems to be the case.”
“Damn.” A witness would have made things a lot easier.
“Another thing,” Pellew went on. “You should know that I haven’t been able to keep a lid on this. Word of the killing is spreading fast—and so are rumors of who was likely responsible. It’s all I can do to keep my own men from marching to the Polarian quarters and opening fire. Patterson was well-liked by most everyone in the detachment—even the ones who didn’t mind the Polarians before now feel like Patterson’s murder deserves severe redress.”
“Your men are not to leave deck one for any reason,” said Calvin. “Confine them to the barracks and HQ.”
“I’ve already done that—however, I’m afraid keeping them cooped up will only rile them up further.”
“Do whatever you have to do,” said Calvin. “I will not have a war between the Polarians and the humans on this ship. Especially now.”
“I’ll do everything I can.”
“And remember,” said Calvin, almost more to himself than to Pellew, “we don’t know for sure that the assailant was a Polarian. For that matter, it could have been a fellow human who wanted the Polarians to look responsible—perhaps to encourage a violent incident that might lead to the expulsion of the Polarians from the ship.”
“Maybe,” said Pellew. “But I doubt it.”
Calvin agreed that the likeliest scenario was that a rogue Polarian—or small group of them—had taken it upon themselves to avenge their gods, or religion, or whatever it was they felt had been trampled upon by Staff Sergeant Patterson’s disrespect. “Have you informed Alldroit that he’s potentially in great danger?”
“I have the brig under guard by two soldiers on rotational watch and camera surveillance. He should be alright.”
“Good,” said Calvin. “Hopefully the lab will come up with convincing evidence soon of who the attacker was—but until then, standing orders remain in place and there will be no interaction between any human soldiers or Polarians, and all non-essential personnel are confined to quarters.”
“What about when we reach Remus Nine?” asked Pellew. “Assuming the murderer hasn’t yet been identified and brought to justice. How do you plan on performing the op without Polarians and special forces crossing paths?”
“I don’t know,” said Calvin. The team he’d selected included several soldiers from both groups. Clearly he’d have to re-think some things. “I’ll let you know when I’ve figured it out.”
“Bear in mind you only have a few more hours.”
“Trust me,” said Calvin, feeling the tide of stress rise in his mind. “I haven’t forgotten.” He would destroy those isotome weapons if that was the last thing he did, even if it cost him the ship and everyone on board. He would find a way to make it happen, no matter how bad the tension was between the humans and Polarians.
It was time to have a talk with Rez’nac.
***
The office door opened and a large, bluish-grey person could be seen in the doorway. He was so tall and muscular that he loomed over the tiny office.
In the time since he’d requested Rez’nac’s presence to the man’s arrival a few minutes later, Calvin had received six independent requests from soldiers and crewmen alike for the Polarian force to be disarmed. The situation was indeed bad.
“You summoned me?” asked Rez’nac.
“Yes,” said Calvin. “Please, come in.”
The large Polarian stepped inside and the door closed behind him. Calvin looked up at him unintimidated, even though this mountain-like alien had at least fifty kilograms on him.
“What brings me this honor, Captain?”
“Please, take a seat.”
The Polarian did as asked.
“As you have probably heard, there has been a murder on this ship. That is why your men have been asked to remain in their quarters with the doors locked.”
“I have heard. And we’ve complied. But I must ask—does this mean you suspect one of my men? If so, the shame of it falls upon me,” Rez’nac’s face contorted strangely in what was probably an expression of grief.
“I don’t have any evidence it was one of your men,” said Calvin. “But the majority of people on this ship seem to connect the fact that the victim was one of the men who disrupted your ritual with the fact that it appeared to be a revenge killing.”
Rez’nac nodded. “I can see why they would draw such a conclusion. Though those facts alone do not prove the killer was Polarian.”
“I agree,” said Calvin, folding his arms. “Which is why you’re here. I need your cooperation with an investigation.”
“Anything. If the killer was one of my own, he deserves to be punished. And so do I.”
Calvin didn’t agree with that last statement but decided not to debate it. “I want to send two officers to where you and your men are quartered who will interview them one by one. I would like you to accompany those officers at all times while they are there. I think... how do I say this? ... I believe an unwanted incident involving those officers is less likely to happen if you are with them. And your men will know that you support the investigation.”
“I assure you it is an unnecessary precaution, none of us wish your officers any harm,” said Rez’nac. “But I am happy to comply with your wishes nonetheless, captain.”
“Good.”
“I assume you will be questioning the human soldiers and crew as well,” said Rez’nac.
Calvin hadn’t really thought about that. As objective and fair-minded as he believed himself to be, he was only pla
nning to seriously investigate human suspects if the Polarians all had good alibis. Ship’s resources were limited after all.
“We will investigate anyone who we can identify a motive for,” said Calvin carefully.
Rez’nac nodded. “Very well.”
“I would also like you and all of your men to go with me on my away mission in the next few hours. I have sent you all relevant intelligence, though I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to review it yet.”
“I have not. But I am happy to accompany and serve you. And so are my men.”
“Thank you.” Calvin had decided that mixing human special forces with Polarian soldiers was too big of a risk for the mission at hand. And he didn’t like the idea of taking the humans with him and leaving the Polarians on the ship with the crew. He knew that would make much of the crew extremely uncomfortable—and justifiably so considering the ongoing murder investigation—and he was equally concerned that by not taking all of the Polarians the handful he left behind would be unable to defend themselves from reprisals from special forces soldiers or human crew who blamed them for the murder. Besides, the Polarians were hardy, toughened warriors. No doubt they would prove their worth against the perils haunting the surface of Remus Nine.
“Anything else, captain?”
“Not for now. You may go.” He’d thought about discussing the requests he’d received for the Polarians to disarm but decided against it. Surely he could not disarm them by force—not without inviting a bloodbath. He suspected he could get Rez’nac to cooperate with such a disarmament but feared that, if he did, nothing would stop some of the humans from exacting brutal revenge on the suddenly helpless Polarians. By letting them keep their arms, he knew he was potentially putting human lives at greater risk, but he couldn’t justify taking their weapons. Despite the demands.
Chapter 22
Shen stared at his console blankly. His thoughts were a jumble and he tried to ignore his emotions.
“Coming up on Remus System,” said Sarah. “I’m going to drop us out of alteredspace at a distance, to make sure we don’t hit any of the mines.”
Shen heard her voice but didn’t turn around and look at her. He’d avoided looking at her since reporting for duty that day, and he’d avoided talking to her—but somehow it was much harder to avoid thinking about her.
“Good idea, Sarah,” said Calvin. “Shen, can you pick up anything on our scopes?”
Shen blinked and took another look at his console. He did a quick scan of the system. “Nothing unusual,” he reported coldly. Automatically. Almost as if he were on autopilot. “Just the star and the planets—and the orbital station around the ninth planet. None of the mines are visible and I don’t see any other ships.”
“Okay, keep an eye on it and let me know if things change,” said Calvin. “Sarah, what is the time?”
“1350 Standard Time.”
“The Rotham fleet should show up in a little over an hour from now. Hopefully we bought ourselves enough time.”
“It’ll have to be enough,” said Summers.
“Miles, how is the stealth system doing?” asked Calvin.
“Up and running,” said Miles. “They won’t see us coming.” The bigger man seemed to realize that Shen wasn’t quite his usual amiable self and shot him a sympathetic look.
“They weren’t supposed to see us coming in Abia,” said Calvin. Shen didn’t turn around to look at him, he didn’t want to look at anybody right now, but he could imagine Calvin pacing back and forth anxiously, wanting reassurance—he knew him that well.
“I still don’t know how they detected us in Abia,” said Shen. “But it’s possible they didn’t see us until we got too close. I agree with Miles’ assessment. Our arrival should be a secret.”
“ETA?” asked Calvin.
“One minute, fifteen seconds,” said Sarah.
The ship was still at condition one, a state it had remained in for the last several hours. Calvin had told them earlier that a murder had occurred on the ship—of one of the special forces soldiers. Shen had been shocked to learn this just like everyone else, but unlike them, a small but growing part of him envied the slain soldier.
The dead don’t have to worry about women, or deal with rejection. The worst part was, he didn’t blame Sarah. Not really. He looked down at his belly, which was bigger than it ought to be, and then compared himself in his mind to the perfect physique of someone like Captain Pellew, who not only had a rock-solid soldier’s body, but also boyish good-looks. Shen doubted any woman would really look at his bulbous frame with desire when there were bastards like Pellew littering the galaxy.
“Now we get to finally see if it all was worth it,” said Summers. “Or if it was just a wild goose chase after all.”
“Thirty-five seconds,” said Sarah.
“I assure you, Commander,” said Tristan, “this is no goose chase.”
“Thirty seconds.”
“Alex and Tristan,” said Calvin, “get to the airlock. I’ll meet you there soon. Pellew and the Polarians should be there already.”
Shen turned just enough to see the Remorii and Rotham leave the bridge. Good riddance. Shen never felt comfortable with them around. He trusted Calvin’s judgment, and if Calvin chose to tolerate them then so would Shen, but he couldn’t get past his own nagging suspicion that one or both of them was toying with Calvin. He chalked it up to his own paranoia. And decided that it didn’t really matter anyway. He glanced once at Sarah who was too involved with piloting the ship to notice him. Not that she would have noticed him anyway...
“Twenty seconds.”
“Miles, you’d better get down there too,” said Calvin. “Summers, call for a replacement and takeover the defense post until he arrives.”
“Ha-ha, very funny,” said Miles, not yielding his seat to Summers when she approached him. They both looked at Calvin.
“Ten seconds.”
“I’m not joking,” said Calvin. “We’ll need a good gunner for the craft we take from the station down to the planet and back. I can think of no one better than you. Now move!”
Miles looked confused and unhappy, but he did as he was told. Summers took over at the defense post and input a request for a replacement officer.
“...Two… One…”
The view filled with stars, the brightest of which was the local sun. A white speck barely larger than all of the others.
“Wow, we’re pretty far out,” said Calvin.
“I told you, I didn’t want to take any chances,” said Sarah.
“Fair enough,” said Calvin. “Begin our approach, nice and slow. Shen do a full scan of the system. I want to know what we can see now that we’re here.”
“Aye, aye,” he said and began scanning. Even though Remus Nine was the ninth planet, it was still in the habitable zone—meaning relatively close to the local sun—far enough away that the Nighthawk had a few minutes before being in danger of striking one of the mines protecting the planet.
“See any ships out there?”
“Negative,” said Shen as he looked over the incoming results.
“Good. Hopefully that means we beat the Rotham fleet and the Desert Eagle here.”
“Wait a minute,” said Shen, now noticing something. “I am picking up something. It’s not a ship, though. More like... yes, I confirm. It’s an alteredspace imprint. About two-hundred thousand mc’s from Remus Nine and partially dissipated. I’d guess the ship that made it left the system only hours ago.”
“See if you can identify the ship.”
“Doing an analysis now,” said Shen as the computer tried to extrapolate data on how much mass the ship had and where its likely destination was.
“Was it the Arcane Storm?” asked Calvin.
Shen did a cross-check. “I can’t get a one-hundred percent positive ID on it,” he said. “But that seems likely. Everything about the imprint suggests it was made by a ship of similar mass to the Arcane Storm.”
“Bu
llseye,” said Calvin. “Can you determine its likely destination?”
“No, not really,” said Shen. “The imprint has decayed too much. I think it’s being affected by the stealth field generated by the mines.”
“Too bad,” said Calvin. Shen guessed that Calvin would have sent the Nighthawk after the Arcane Storm—after dropping off the shore party—had they been able to get a good fix on it.
“It shouldn’t matter anyway,” said Summers. “If the weapons do exist, they’re supposed to be on the planet’s surface, not on the ship.”
“So long as our intel is good,” said Calvin, “that’s true.”
The Nighthawk moved carefully closer to the planet. After a couple of minutes, its advanced sensors were able to see the clusters of stealthed mines around the planet. “I’m detecting the mines now,” said Shen. “Forwarding the info to the projector display.”
The 3d display that showed Remus Nine, a seemingly white and grey planet choked with clouds, now revealed thousands of small dots all around it. Each dot was a group of mines. Deadly explosives packed tightly together, waiting to destroy any ships that strayed too close. Most vessels in the galaxy wouldn’t be able to see the mines even though their stealth technology was crude by modern standards.
“Can you identify a safe path for the ship to navigate, so we can approach the orbital station?” asked Calvin.
“Affirmative,” said Shen. “But you’ll have to follow the flightplan exactly.” The clusters of mines were frequent enough, and dense enough, that any ship significantly larger than the Nighthawk couldn’t avoid striking them.
“Good,” said Calvin. Shen knew that if no safe path existed, Calvin would have ordered Summers to begin detonating the mines to clear a path—a process that could take a while and exhaust much of the Nighthawk’s weapons. Luckily they didn’t have to resort to that. “Send Sarah the data.”
“Done,” said Shen, sending Sarah’s console all the data he had on the discovered mines.
The Phoenix Rising Page 26
