Shadow of Oblivion

by Richard Tongue

  “Morning,” he said, catching her by surprise.

  She turned, shook her head, and replied, “Don’t do that.”

  “Sorry.” He paused, then said, “I saw Vlad on his way to get drunk. Smart move, though that’s a short-term solution at best. We can probably top him up at Prospero.”

  “That’s no answer,” she said.

  “It’s an answer,” he replied.

  She frowned, then asked, “How big a station is Prospero, anyway?”

  “Not very. Maybe three, four hundred people at the most. It varies quite a bit. They don’t have psychological support, if that’s what you’re thinking. Not many of the criminal syndicates go in for it. I think it’d make them nervous. Some damn good bars, though.”

  “And transports back to Earth?”

  “You thinking of jumping ship?” Dixon asked. He looked at the door, then said, “Maybe. At least to Mars, anyway, and from there it wouldn’t be too hard to get back to Earth, but I wouldn’t want to risk putting someone who might be on the verge of going crazy on a ride like that. Odds are they’d end up selling him to the Belters. Though that might not be a bad thing, at that.”

  “Turn him over to the enemy?”

  “They’d get him the help he needs.” With a sigh, he said, “The poor bastard came home early from a mission. Was just about to get a promotion. A shoreside assignment. His family was on a shuttle, a service shuttle, being taken up to meet him at Gateway. There was an accident. The pilot escaped. His family didn’t. Then the pilot met Vlad at the airlock.”

  “Christ,” she said.

  “The way he tells it, he blacked out, anger, and when he came around, the son of a bitch was dead with a broken neck. Oddly enough, there’s no footage of the incident. A few credits changed hands. Admiral Yamada didn’t want to risk his family being disgraced any further, so I figure they decided to throw the crazy man into jail and hope that time would heal all wounds. It’s not the first time it happened. There were a few people in prison who had obviously been dumped. Our new commanding officer, for one.”

  “And you?”

  “Oh, I more than earned my ticket to paradise, I assure you. If one of my associates hadn’t cracked, I’d be sitting on Mars right now in a luxury suite drinking cocktails.” With a beaming smile, he added, “I’ll get there. Don’t doubt it. Next time we’ll get it right. And rest assured, there’s going to be a next time, as soon as this circus is over. I don’t intend to die gloriously. Frankly, the pay’s nowhere near good enough for that.”

  “You’re assuming we’re going to get to have a choice on that,” she replied. “I don’t know if the Belters will be as generous as that.”

  With a gleaming smile, Dixon replied, “I’m a survivor, Lieutenant. No matter how the dice fall, I’m going to win. Depend on it.”

  “And just how do you intend to arrange that?”

  “It’s merely a question of making sure that I’m in the right place at the right time.” He shook his head, and said, “A skill that I appear you have failed to master. Why were you so eager to remain on this ship, anyway? We did everything possible to…”

  “Get rid of me?” she interrupted. “You were hijackers. I’m surprised you even feel the need to ask that question.” Glaring at him, she continued, “I suppose you wouldn’t have taken the same risk?”

  “Not in a million years,” the hacker replied. “I know when I’m not wanted, and I also know that he who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day. If we’d been real hijackers, you would be very slightly dead at this point. Not the most sensible battle plan.”

  “What would you die for?” she asked.

  “I’ve never really given that question much thought. I suppose that the price tag is high enough that the subject is unlikely to seriously come up. I warned Commander Corrigan of that when I first came on board.”

  Rising to her feet, she said, “You’re wrong. I know what you’ll die for.”

  “Suppose you tell me.”

  “You’ll die for freedom. For liberty. For the chance to shape your own destiny. Or you’d have stayed in that cell for the duration of the war. Nobody forced you to come along.” She looked down at him, then asked, “Unless you’re planning on leaving at the first opportunity?”

  “Not the first, anyway,” he replied. “Maybe you have a point. Maybe there are a few things that I still consider just might be worth dying for. Though I know one thing. I’m going to be dead a long, long time. There’s no need to rush into anything.” Looking around, he added, “This is a tough ship with a good crew. Mostly. I’ll keep riding the odds here for a while.”

  “Mostly?” she asked. “Just what does that mean?”

  “Vlad’s going to be a problem. He’s the best gunner I’ve ever seen. Vostok never even had a chance to beat us, and I’m confident that, at least in theory, he can do that again. Assuming he wants to. We’re just not equipped to help him. That damned human factor, I guess. There’s no way to get past it.” He paused, shrugged, then added, “Though it doesn’t really matter.”

  “Now what the hell does that mean?” she asked.

  “It’s simple enough. Either he’ll work out a way to get past his demons, or one day the temptation to just take a short walk out of the nearest airlock will be impossible to get past. Either way the problem will be over, but we’ll then be in desperate need of a good gunner.”

  “How the hell can you be so cold about it?”

  “You were the one who handed him the pistol and told him to get it over with.”

  “That was just to shock him out of it.”

  “Could have backfired, though,” he said. “It could still.”

  “Attention, attention,” the overhead speaker barked. “Dixon and Carter, report to the brig on the double. On the double.”

  “What do you think we’ve done now?” Dixon asked.

  “My guess is that the prisoners are awake,” Carter replied.

  “I was making a little joke, Lieutenant.”

  “Very little. Very, very little. Come on. If we keep the Commander waiting too long, he might just lock us in there with them.”

  Chapter 12

  The three prisoners slowly stirred, the stimulants finally taking effect as Corrigan looked down at them, safe on the far side of the protective forcefield, a brief shimmer in the air to warn the unwary to keep clear.

  “There’s water in bottles to your left,” he said. “You will be treated in every respect as prisoners of war, for the moment. Though I do have a certain unusual latitude in how I handle captives. One which could be good, or could be bad. It depends very much on just how cooperative you intend to me.”

  “Crawford, Jack, Nine-One-Two-Four-Alpha,” the first of them said. “And that’s all you’re going to get out of any of us, no matter what you choose to do. We know our rights, and we know what you’re going to do to us, and that doesn’t mean a damn thing to us.”

  Folding his arms together, Corrigan said, “You may be operating under the admittedly understandable delusion that you are on board a conventional warship. You aren’t. This ship is under my command, and I answer to nobody. Technically, I’m not even in the Republic Fleet, so let’s not have any illusions about what might happen here. Talk, and I’ll let you go.”

  “What?” the second prisoner asked.

  “It’s a trick, Boyd,” Crawford said. “It’s just a trick. The bad cop will probably show up in a minute and threaten us with torture.”

  “You aren’t going to be tortured or executed,” Corrigan said. “Neither, however, do I have the ability to transfer you to a former prisoner-of-war camp. Not for the foreseeable future, in any case. Let me tell you how the course of your life might go. If you continue to throw out your name and serial number, then you stay in the cell. You get three meals a day. Ration packs. And that’s it. For weeks. Or months. Or years. We don’t have the facilities for anything else. That’s assuming this ship isn’t destroyed in action, in which case yo
u will die right along with the rest of us. Something about which I will be awfully sorry.”

  Taking a step towards the forcefield, he continued, “The alternative is that you tell me what I want to know, provide me with the information I need to operate in interstellar space, and I’ll let you go free at our next destination. We’re heading for a neutral port. I’m sure you can work out some way to get back to your people, assuming you don’t just want to sit out the war with a measure of comfort. I might even be willing to give you a grub stake to get started. Your call.”

  “He’s bluffing,” Crawford said.

  Nodding, the sole woman of the trio said, “Clayton, Georgia, Three-Seven-Six-One-Bravo. That’s all you’re going to get.” Reaching for the water, she added, “Though I also believe you are obligated to provide us with recreation and medical facilities.”

  “Once again, I need to remind you that I am not in the military, that I am not bound by any treaties, and that even if I was, I haven’t got the ability to offer such facilities to you. We don’t even have a doctor on board.”

  “You do,” the third man said. “Martin, Boyd. Medical Officer. One-Four-Three-Five-Omega. If you’ve got a medical facility, then I’d be willing to provide you with some assistance in conducting our physical checks.”

  “Boyd,” Crawford said, a scowl on his face, “helping the enemy…”

  “I’m helping us, Jack,” Martin snapped. “We need to have a full physical examination after what we just went through, and unless you have a diagnostic unit hidden up one of your sleeves, this is the only way we’re going to get it. Besides, long before I swore an oath to the Belt, I swore another one to do no harm, and that’s the one I still take seriously.” Turning to Corrigan, he said, “Captain, on the basis that I would conduct only medical procedures, I would be willing to offer my parole until we reach your destination. I will provide you with no information not directly related to the well-being of my patients.” He paused, smiled, and added, “That’s as far as I can go.”

  “Very well,” Corrigan said. “Crawford, Clayton, step to the rear of the cell.” He pulled out a stun pistol, and added, “I’d really rather not have to knock you both out again if it isn’t necessary, but if you leave me with no choice…”

  “I’ll remember this,” Crawford hissed, as he reluctantly complied with the order. “When I get out, and I’ll get out…”

  “For God’s sake, shut up,” Martin replied. “I’ll be back with our Fleet in two weeks while you’re still rotting away in a cell. Besides, it’s not as if you know anything important anyway. You were only the Deputy Communications Officer. Though I always pitied the poor bastards you had reporting to you. One little taste of power and you thought you were the reincarnation of Admiral Nelson.” Struggling to stand, he took a drink of water, and said, “I’m ready, Captain.”

  “Commander,” Corrigan corrected.

  “Then you are in the military,” Clayton said, triumph on her face.

  “I was,” Corrigan replied. “Then I shot my commanding Admiral on the bridge, and watched him die in front of me on the deck. Care to see a reenactment of that happy moment?”

  “That was you?” Clayton asked.

  “It was indeed,” Corrigan replied with a smile. “I guess my reputation precedes me. Good. I’m glad to hear it. Then you have some idea of the sort of man I am, and you have some idea of the sort of things I can do.”

  Turning to her, Crawford said, “Don’t worry. As soon as we get to Prospero, our people will…”

  “What did you say?” Corrigan asked, taking another step forward, now perilously close to the forcefield. Martin looked sick, his face briefly flashing with barely restrained anger before returning to its former implacable state. “Prospero Station. How did you know we were heading there?”

  “I didn’t,” the communications officer replied, his face growing pale. “I just guessed, when you talked about a free port, and…”

  “No, no, that wasn’t a guess,” Corrigan said. “Not by any means. You know where we’re going. I didn’t know that when we left. So how did you manage to find it out? Did you hack into our navigation systems? Do you have a traitor on board?”

  “Commander,” Clayton began.

  “This is between me and Crawford,” Corrigan said. “Let me tell you of another way your lives can change. I can make it known that the three of you have cooperated with me totally. That you were extremely useful to me, provided key information for the prosecution of the war. I’m certain that your superiors would be only too happy to know what you did, and that they would provide you with the appropriate reward. Do any of you have families? They could reap immediate benefits from such a service.”

  “Damn it, I’ve got a wife and kid…,” Crawford said.

  “If you talk, I won’t.”

  Crawford glared at Martin, and said, “Not in front of him.”

  “Doctor Martin, assuming you are actually a medical officer, please move to the rear of the cell with Clayton. Right now. I’m operating on a somewhat tight timeline, so if I’m forced to knock you all out again, the results could be rather messier than I think any of us would like. Don’t think I won’t do it. My crew and my mission come far, far ahead of worrying in the slightest about the well-being of a trio of traitors.”

  Reluctantly, slowly, Martin inched to the rear, and Crawford stepped forward, hunched over, defeated, arms limp by his sides. Corrigan deactivated the forcefield for just long enough for Crawford to pass over the threshold, then gestured for him to step into an empty office, the door opening at his arrival. As he entered, Dixon and Carter stepped out of the nearest elevator.

  “I’m glad you could join us,” Corrigan said. “My new friend here was just about to give us a nice, informative briefing on just how he knew where we were going.” Turning to the prisoner, he asked, “So go ahead and tell me just who Martin is. Is he even a doctor?”

  “He is, but he was also Intelligence Officer,” Crawford replied. “Look, before I tell you anymore, I’m going to need some assurances. I need you to guarantee my safety. I need asylum in the Terran Republic. Give me that, and I’ll tell you everything I can.”

  “That’s something I can’t give you,” Corrigan answered. “This mission doesn’t have any official status, and for that matter neither do I. I can promise you that I will let you go free at Prospero Station, but…”

  “It’s gone!” Crawford yelled. “Our fleet hit it two days ago. Jones was mad because we got left out. We were being used as bait. We knew you were coming, a ship like yours, and we were told to let you take us down.”

  “The Belters deliberately sacrificed one of their ships…”

  “Vostok was always a hangar queen,” Crawford replied. “She never did work right. Way, way under normal specifications. The poor bastard was in dry dock three times in the last year, and there wasn’t anything they could do to fix her up. They cut too many corners during the construction. Simple as that.” He shrugged, and said, “It had to look convincing. That’s what they said.” He paused, then added, “There are other neutral ports. Sagan’s still active. You can take me there, or somewhere like that, once all of this is over. I’ve got a friend or two on Sagan. I might even be able to smooth the way for you.”

  “Forgive me,” Dixon replied. “I’m afraid that long and bitter experience has taught me that things are rarely as convenient as you’re making them out to be.”

  Nodding, Corrigan added, “Your conversion does seem remarkably quick. Just why should I trust you?”

  “I have no reason to lie,” Crawford said. “And every reason to help you out, if I want to live through the next couple of days. There’s a trap at Prospero, waiting for you. They knew you were coming, and they wanted to destroy you right at the start. The idea was to try and capture you, but I never figured that was going to work. Martin was hoping to sabotage your systems from within, but his ego is way, way bigger than his skill. I doubt he’d be able to even begin to hack int
o your network.”

  “Then you think they were going to kill you along with the rest of us.”

  “More than likely,” Crawford said. “I don’t want to die for them. I don’t have any reason to.”

  “What about your wife and kid?” Corrigan asked.

  “She’s been sleeping with her boss for years,” Crawford replied. “Kid isn’t even mine. I never told Martin. Made more sense to let him think he had something on me, something he could use to keep me under control. Hell, if they want to take some revenge on them, they can go right ahead as far as I’m concerned. Won’t hurt me at all to see them get a little payback.”

  “Do you know any details of the ambush?”

  Shaking his head, Crawford replied, “Are you kidding me? I was just Deputy Communications Officer. A petty tyrant who insisted that the people under me actually did their jobs sometimes. Not popular, especially on a half-derelict boat like Vostok.” He paused, grinned, then said, “I’m not asking you to trust me. I know that you won’t. If I was in your place, I sure as hell wouldn’t. All I’m asking is that you don’t just go flying into Prospero without taking care. They’ll be waiting for you, and they know where you are going and when you are going to arrive.” He shrugged, then said, “Just don’t die, and don’t get me killed with you. And ideally, put me in a different cell. I don’t think it would be healthy for me to go back with Martin and Clayton.”

  Looking around the room, Corrigan said, “Wait here for a moment.”

  “Not as if I have a choice on that,” Crawford replied, as the three of them stepped out of the room, back into the corridor.

  “Thoughts?” Corrigan asked.

  “I don’t trust him,” Carter said, “but he’s right. We don’t need to. We should alter course, head somewhere else. There must be other neutral stations out there somewhere.”