She allowed an attendant to hold the door for her as she departed, eyes down and lost in thought.
Luyten System
Officer Renno half-turned to get Heres’ attention. “We’re in sensor range of Agra Colony, sir.”
The Captain glanced at her while finishing up his post-jump log entry, then jumped to his feet and walked over. “Initial findings?”
“Transport 3033 is docked. I am seeing eighteen life forms aboard. Company records indicate fifty-four paying passengers. Those remaining should be crew only.”
Heres smiled. Passenger vessels had little or no shielding that would have concealed the number of warm bodies aboard. “Any sign of that Prax ship?”
“No drive residue consistent with what we scanned back at Charon. I don’t see any indication of either the vessel or its recent passage in the sector, sir.”
“Hail the Colony security group as well as the Captain of the 3033. I want to find out if anyone unusual was—or is—out there I should know about.” He paced up and down the bridge for a minute, rethinking his mission parameters. Kendall had waited almost forty-eight hours to send the Valor into jump after the action at Charon. Why, only Kendall knew. The Admiral had ordered Heres to secure the transport and any passengers aboard. If he’d been allowed to jump initially he could have been here, waiting, to stop the transport and board it. Now, whoever was on board would have had the chance to disappear into the bowels of the hundred-level colony…
Fifteen minutes later, his worst fears were confirmed. The transport captain had related the whole story, including sending over video and images from security cameras taken of the renegades, including the rogue Prax. Heres’ prime directive from Kendall was to secure that one, above all others. Once the Valor docked, Heres and a heavily-armed shore party stormed directly to the security headquarters for the spaceport. The director met him at the entrance.
“Captain Heres,” the man bowed deferentially.
Heres looked around. “Where is she?”
“I have her in an interrogation room.”
“Well, get her out here—now!” Heres was red-faced.
Two guards hastily escorted Kendra and Travers into the lobby.
“Thank the sun—the Fleet has finally arrived.” Kendra’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Kendra.” They had a history. “Aren’t you retired or something?”
“Something. Heres, can you scan the colony for a large group?”
“Already working in it. Your renegades literally do not exist. No facial recognition, no biometrics, nothing in the database. Not even your mysterious Thomas Halloran, Captain of the band.” He shot a look at the security director. “Have your people turned anything up yet?”
“No group matching the description you sent me has materialized. I have alerted the Colony Police Force to put some men on the case. Technically, if they have left the spaceport they are out of my jurisdiction.” The Agra Colony was self-governed, unlike the spaceport which fell under the Fleet’s purview, as Charon Station had. As a key waypoint between the Ceti and Sol Systems, Agra was a location of interest with regard to logistics & security.
“Have the officer in charge report to me as soon as he or she is assigned.” Heres waved to a Fleet man with him. “You stay with the Director until I recall you to the Valor.” With that, he turned on his heel and started back toward his ship. Kendra kept step with him and Travers followed along with the remaining shore party, guns at the ready. Civilians made way for the group as they moved through the busy level.
“So this band held you and the young Lieutenant, as well as four dozen civilian passengers, at gunpoint for over five days during the passage?”
“That’s correct.”
Heres smirked. “I’m surprised you didn’t try any hero stuff. Seems more your style, Captain.”
Kendra seethed quietly. “I’ll ignore that. There were civilians to be concerned about. Plus, they weren’t threatening. The ridiculous security group guards were the ones holding us.”
Heres nodded as he walked. Despite their rivalry, they were both professionals. “We have them in custody. Their story is that they were coerced under the threat of being murdered by the Prax.”
“It was all that Halloran man. He was definitely military. Can you believe he claimed to be the Captain of an Earth warship?”
Heres stopped, turning to her. “I hadn’t heard that part yet. Hmm.” He resumed his pace, not looking back. “We’ll find them.”
“Good. I tried chasing them but they slipped away from us after only a few corners. They seemed to know the station well…”
“…Or, they had someone waiting for them.” Heres stopped again, moving close to Kendra. “I’m under orders from Admiral Kendall to retrieve that Prax—at all costs. I’ll need you to help me do that. You can speak for him, I imagine.”
She bristled. “Stop it, Heres. Just because he’s my father doesn’t mean that I can speak for him.”
Heres stepped forward and she flinched away reflexively. He smirked again, then let it turn into a real grin. “I have complete confidence in you, Captain. Consider your ‘retirement’ temporarily suspended.” He pointed at Travers. “You, too.”
“I’m not retiring.” Travers was puzzled, plus confused by the odd communication between the two officers.
“Whatever. You’re with Kendra the war hero—stick with her wherever she goes. Understood?”
Kendra tossed her hair defiantly. “We don’t need you, Heres. Give us some guns.”
Travers sighed. “Looks like we’re missing our flight after all.”
Chapter 48
Luyten System
The small vessel screamed across the outer edge of the system, its low sensor profile and minimal drive residue tailor-made for maneuvering around the lesser-monitored regions of a system.
“Deceleration completed.” Fryax reviewed the information the sensors were feeding him, using a heads-up display attached to the side of his face. He was turned toward Calxen. “No sign of human activity in this quadrant.”
“The humans don’t want to enter this asteroid belt. Even with such a large colony within the system. Only those scum Haulers dare.” Calxen was reviewing his own display. “Make course for base.”
“The last Hauler that came close disappeared mysteriously.”
“Accidents happen. A rogue asteroid smashes into the hull, obliterating the ship in an instant. The humans have no regard for the Haulers.”
“To our advantage.”
“As soon as we come within range of base, signal them with tight-beam that we are moving up the timetable for the assault.”
“As you wish, Lord.”
Luyten System - Agra’s Moon Prila
Harper was waiting for the group at the airlock. “So, who’s the Admiral here?”
“Captain, actually.” Halloran considered extending a hand, then changed his mind. The man in front of him was obviously a pirate leader of some sort. Haulers. Djembe had briefed Halloran on the way over in the shuttle; Haulers were an underclass of interstellar society who made their way collecting whatever they could, then reselling it. Not a new idea by any means, but their collection tactics bordered on piracy—at least according to Djembe, who’d had to dodge them several times while flying transports between the other human homeworld and the Sol System.
But this Mygdarian fellow—not his real Praxxan name, said Bregor—was representative of those who fell in with the Haulers out of a desire to lose themselves. Unlike the majority of the group who grew up in the trades, these joined up later in life. Halloran thought he could learn to like Mygdarian and his kind…he certainly understood the desire to run away and start afresh.
The Prax stepped forward now, embracing the man Harper in an unusual bear hug, then backing away with hands outstretched in some meaningful manner. “The tall one is the leader here. He captained a Fleet vessel. On Earth,” he added.
Harper—whose earrings resembled frisbees�
�jangled a bit as he bobbed his head. He looked over Halloran’s camo uniform with disdain. “Now, this is a Gray to be reckoned with. But does he have the ability to pay?” Harper leered at Halloran, then deliberately passed his eyes over the others, coming to rest on Axxa. With arms outstretched he stepped forward. “Myg, your kind has also come to bid on our trophy! You are a Prax of your word, that I’ll say.” He embraced Mygdarian again.
Mygdarian glanced at Halloran over Harper’s shoulder.
“I want to see the ship first.” Halloran affected a grumpy attitude—frankly, it wasn’t that hard.
Axxa grumbled. “The Prax must be assured that the vessel has not been tampered with. This is our property—.”
“—That was abandoned by a dead crew and lawfully recovered by my team.” Harper stepped away from Axxa, a shadow of concern crossing his face.
Mygdarian had told them on the shuttle flight over Harper’s vessel about the discovery of an unknown Praxxan warship, adrift in the outer system. That once they’d gained entry they’d discovered the crew dead throughout the ship. Mygdarian had saved the Captain’s body frozen for autopsy out of respect for his people, but then they had purged the ship’s atmosphere and sterilized the surfaces.
Halloran spoke up. “The Fleet wishes to bid first on this vessel, if it’s everything you say it is.”
Harper turned to the airlock. “You and your party may inspect the vessel, of course. Let us proceed.”
Halloran hoped that the whole thing wasn’t a set-up, that he hadn’t left his crew and Antonov back in hiding at the colony for nothing. Djembe had come along. Deacon had to be practically restrained by the crew, but he’d stayed behind with the rest.
“I must admit, when I heard about the renegade crew taking over a flight to Coloran, I was skeptical. Such a thing has not happened in my memory.” Harper stopped alongside Halloran. “Did you know that a Fleet Cruiser also arrived at the Colony not long ago? Seems that an armed shore party went directly to old Grimes in security.”
Halloran nodded, feeling apprehensive. “The Valor, yes. They were to follow us through jump. To secure the station after us.”
Harper cocked his head at him. “You certainly are the most unusual Gray I have yet met. What was the name of your ship again?”
“The Bonhomme Richard. It was lost in battle…near Earth.”
Harper nodded. “Your crew as well?”
Halloran was sure the man knew much more than he was letting on. It didn’t matter. “A number escaped with me.”
“And they are where?”
Halloran looked the man in the eye. “That’s not your concern.”
Harper threw up his hands. “Far be it from me to cast aspersions on the Fleet. After all,” he added with a wink. “They are my greatest source of goods.” He strode down a passageway into the interior of his ship. “Follow!”
The hour-long flight that seemed to last five times as long was punctuated by Harper making rude jokes and constantly asking his bridge crew for status updates. Halloran could tell that the man was nervous, despite his bluster. Perhaps it was the presence of a second Prax. Perhaps it was the distinct smell of subterfuge that permeated the whole charade. Harper was clearly a man who’d seen and done many dubious things; Halloran looked fierce and tried to avoid sweating overly.
Finally, the bridge crewman called on the comm. “Closing on the vessel, Harper.”
A new Hauler opened the door to the lounge they’d been ‘relaxing’ in. Halloran looked up to see the man glancing across the room.
“Ah, Creal!” Harper stood up. “Your moment of triumph, and profit, is upon you.”
Creal didn’t smile or show emotion, he just frowned and stood to one side as the group filed out. Halloran saw the look that passed between Mygdarian and Creal, however. Was he in on it as well?
“To the bridge, gentlemen! My bridge, that is. Let us see what the cat dragged in.”
The moment they entered the bridge Halloran heard Axxa’s intake of breath. Clearly, the Prax was startled by the image of the sleek, menacing craft that now filled the forward viewscreen.
Mygdarian stepped to a station and tapped some controls. “Ship’s atmosphere has been restored, it is safe to board.”
Harper leaned against the central chair that clearly belonged to him if the gaudy cloths draped over it were any indication. “Ah, yes, the crew. We were sad to find them in the state they were in…deplorable, really. We kept one crewmember’s corpse. I suppose that too may be up for bid…thoughts?”
Axxa growled. “My thoughts are that you owe tribute to the Praxxan Empire for your insolence. That we would be subjected to having to bid on our own property…”
“…That I may remind you was a derelict in space.”
“So you say.”
Mygdarian spoke up. “I can vouch that the crew were indeed deceased prior to our recovery of the vessel.”
Axxa lowered his eyebrows at the other alien. “And your word is…dubious.”
Harper stood up straight. “Gentlemen, please…let us inspect the goods before we begin the bidding war.” He rubbed his hands together, glancing at his man working the bridge. “We’ll be in the staging area.”
Ten minutes later the all-clear sounded and Mygdarian swung open the airlock hatch.
“You’re sure that the atmosphere has been purged and the ship sterilized?” Axxa asked. The tale of finding the distended corpses of the Prax crew had shaken Axxa earlier.
Harper laughed as he entered. “Certainly. I wouldn’t want one of my star bidders to keel over on me mid-bid!”
Halloran suppressed a grin despite the moment. He still didn’t like Axxa, and felt that something would have to be done once they got through this chapter. But part of his mind spoke up that he may be giving Axxa no quarter, when his story was in reality perfectly reasonable. But that, he reminded himself grimly, didn’t bring John Buston back.
The Prax was now passing up the corridor of the ship, his head moving in every direction, taking in the technology. Mygdarian took up the rear. Djembe walked alongside Halloran, himself observing the controls and notations along the bulkheads.
Harper paused at an intersection of passageways. “This way to the bridge.”
He fell in step alongside Halloran and Djembe. “Admiral, your companion here—Djembe was his name? He is another interesting piece of your puzzle, no?”
“No.” Halloran didn’t look at him. “How far to the bridge?”
“Not far, not far.” Harper looked Djembe over again. “It took my people a bit of looking, but we’ve figured out who you are.” He patted the pilot’s shoulder. “I dare say you and I might have traded each other’s drive residue back in the day. A Fleet pilot!”
Djembe guffawed. “More like a Fleet mule driver. And an old one at that.”
“Yes, yes. We always try to spare those ones.” Harper scratched his beard. “And again, what brings you to be in league with this undercover Fleet Admiral, who is in this strange uniform?”
“He needed a pilot. Simple as that.”
Harper moved on ahead. “Nothing is ever simple. That principle alone has kept me alive more years than I deserve.”
Djembe glanced at Halloran, showing a crack in his impassive demeanor.
“Behold, your new bridge!” Harper passed through a doorway, the hatch sliding open smoothly and closing behind the group as they entered.
Axxa moved to the center of the bridge, looking around. Halloran watched him, waiting for a sign that the Prax saw what he was looking for.
Harper went directly to the Captain’s station and turned around, waving a hand. “And here we are! Who will start the bidding?”
Halloran looked around. “So…turn it on.” Other than the overhead lighting, the consoles and screens were dark.
Mygdarian crossed to a station set into a recess of the bridge and studied the controls. “This vessel, while accessible to us, is in a hibernation mode.” He looked pointedly at Axxa.
Axxa stepped over to the console and looked where Mygdarian was pointing. “I see this.” He said something under his breath to the other Prax while everyone else waited, patiently or otherwise. Harper was growing restless and the other Hauler, Creal, looked like he was about to vomit.
Finally Harper smacked the top of the Captain’s station. “We begin the bidding! Myg, I thought you said you could get the computer online.”
Djembe leaned toward Halloran. “Here’s where it gets interesting.”
Mygdarian pointed to Axxa. “This Prax is military. He has a valid access code for this warship. I fear that if I attempt further to reactivate the system, that it may view us as intruders and take defensive action. Like purge the atmosphere again. Or self-destruct the vessel.”
Harper narrowed his eyes, paling somewhat. “But what if the computer…”
Axxa leaned over and placed his hand on a bio-screener, rattling off a series of numerals.
Harper stepped quickly up to the console. “Myg! Wait!”
The bridge lit up, screens coming alive. The main viewscreen illuminated the still-darkened room. A perceptible thrumming coursed through the decking, giving Halloran a warm feeling. A ship. It reminded him of the first time he stood—on a bridge—of his sea duty station. The USS Boston had been a Los Angeles-class attack sub. He remembered the thrill of his first deep-dive, the decking tilting under his boots as the bridge crew clung to fixed objects and looked impassively at each other. The Chief calling the depth…
Harper pressed up against Mygdarian. “What have you done?!”
The Prax held the smaller man away from him easily. “Axxa.”
Axxa walked over to another console and tapped a few instruments. Finally, he turned to to Halloran. “This vessel is now under my command. I have transferred the authority codes to mine, which surprisingly are still active in the onboard system. Apparently this vessel has been hibernating since before I was declared a traitor.”
Harper spoke up. “What is this? You’re a traitor? To who?” He looked from Axxa to Halloran, frown splitting his lower face.
War Without Honor (Halloran's War Series Book 1) Page 31
