by Glenn Smith
“That’s better,” Dylan said. “You will allow me to bring this young woman back aboard your vessel. No tricks. This case on my belt,” he went on, referring to the case that contained his handcomp, “contains enough high-yield explosive to take out both of our ships. If you attempt to take me into custody when we come aboard I’ll trigger it. We’ll all die together, Commander. You, me, the civilians aboard this ship, the pretty young lady here, and the rest of your team.” The surprised young woman looked up at him. He met her gaze and he told her, “That’s right, sweetheart. They’re not dead. They’re only unconscious.” He looked back at the commander’s image. “This ship’s crew is innocent, Commander. I hired them to bring me out here blind, no questions asked. They have no idea what’s on the planet ahead. Do you really want their deaths on your hands for the last few seconds of your life?”
“And if I refuse to allow you aboard my vessel?”
“Then I’ll trigger the explosive and we’ll all die anyway,” Dylan replied. Then he lifted the pistol to the young woman’s head. “Starting with her. On the other hand, if you do allow me to board your vessel, and promise to allow these people to go on their way, and I see that you’re cooperating fully, I’ll allow you to bring the rest of your people back to your ship unharmed.”
“And then what?” the commander asked him. “You come aboard my vessel and allow me to bring my team back and I let the civilians go. Then what?”
“You take me to Window World.”
“I take you to... I can’t do that.”
“Then you kill yourself and your entire team.”
“We all knew the risks when we joined the fleet.”
Dylan stared at the commander’s stern face on the viewer. Now what was he going to do? He certainly couldn’t kill these people. Or could he? He could always prevent their deaths next time around, assuming that he made it through the Portal again and there was a next time around. But what if he didn’t make it through again? Their blood would be on his hands for the rest of his life. And who knew what effect their deaths might have on the flow of time?
No, he wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill all those people. Not even if it meant failing to complete his mission. He’d rather remain trapped in this time, even as a prison inmate, than be forced to follow through on his threat. But he at least had to play it out as far as he possibly could. He had to try his best before he surrendered.
“Very well, Commander,” he said, glaring at the man’s image. “I hope you have a strong stomach.” He looked down at the young woman and told her, “You’re a lovely young woman and I suspect a good person as well. I’m truly sorry that your commanding officer has forced me to do this. I would have preferred to let you live.” She squeezed her eyes closed and began to cry as he pushed the muzzle against her temple. “Contact Solfleet Central Command and tell them to inform her family that she gave her life in the line of duty, Commander. Perhaps the fact that you could have stopped this won’t cause them so much pain if they’re made aware of that.”
Tears flowed down over her cheeks as he raised his elbow and drew a deep breath. He began to squeeze the trigger...
“Wait!” Rogers shouted, leaping out of his chair. Dylan looked at his image. The young woman was shaking. “Don’t do it. I’ll do as you ask. I’ll allow you to bring her aboard.”
Dylan released the tension on the trigger and slowly exhaled and relaxed. That had been too damn close. “I mean it, Commander,” he said, doing his best to hide his overwhelming sense of relief. “No tricks. You have been warned.”
“No tricks,” the commander assured him. “I promise.”
“Get up,” he told the young woman. He continued holding the pistol on her as she stood up, then said, “We’re coming over, Commander.”
Chapter 66
Commander Rogers stood waiting for them wearing a very displeased expression on his face as they emerged from his vessel’s airlock. This was where things were going to get really hairy. From this point forward, Dylan was going to have a target on his back... and his chest... and his head. He was going to have to be very, very careful. As far as he could tell the man was unarmed, but with the way he was holding his arms behind his back he couldn’t be absolutely sure of that. “Solfleet Central Command tells me there is no Commander Richard Jennings in the S-I-A,” the commander said. “They also tell me that you’ve used the names ‘Eric Richards’ and ‘Dylan Graves,’ and they suspect you might also have used ‘Doctor David Baxter’ back at the Mars Orbital Shipyards. So tell me, who are you really?”
“Ask yourself that question, Commander,” Dylan challenged while the airlock closed and sealed behind him, still holding the pistol against the frightened young woman’s head. “Who are you that Solfleet Central Command or the S-I-A would confirm an agent’s identity for you? The answer is ‘no one.’ You’re no one, Commander. They would never compromise an operation by revealing an agent’s identity to you.”
“So why are you?” the commander asked. “Assuming for the moment that you’re telling me the truth, of course.”
“Because it’s vital to Earth security that I access the Portal.”
Rogers sighed. “Well, that’s the problem. You see, I’m having trouble believing that an S-I-A agent, or any upstanding member of Solfleet for that matter, would find it necessary to hold a gun to a security troop’s head... for any reason. Especially when said alleged agent could simply show his orders to the facility commander. A criminal on the run, on the other hand, would have every reason.”
“I’m not a criminal,” Dylan told him.
“Prove it,” Rogers challenged him. “Let her go and give me the gun.”
Dylan looked to his left and then to his right, looking for any sign that he’d walked into a trap. He didn’t see any. “Let me see your hands, Commander,” he demanded. Rogers raised his hands up in front of him to show Dylan that they were empty. “Turn around, all the way.” The commander pivoted where he stood, all the way around until he was facing Dylan again. Dylan then looked him in the eye for several seconds, but found no deception there. He drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly, and Rogers held his gaze. Then, satisfied that he was safe, at least for time being, he released the young woman and nudged her forward. “That’s a conduit patch over her mouth. It’s still fresh enough that you should be able to remove it pretty easily with some ice water... once she’s in the brig.”
“This is a security skiff,” Rogers reminded him. “It doesn’t have a brig.”
Dylan pointed the pistol at him. “Improvise.”
Rogers glanced down at the weapon and then met Dylan’s gaze once more. “You’re not exactly building my trust,” he told him.
Dylan held the pistol on him. “Now, Commander.”
Rogers led the way out of the anteroom and into the short corridor, then turned left into the small galley, which was actually little more than a large closet that served as a sort of break area—a refrigerator, a few small cabinets and narrow drawers, and a narrow table with a pair of chairs. “This is the best I can do,” he told Dylan.
“Inside,” Dylan commanded him. “Both of you.” Rogers guided the young woman inside and then looked back at Dylan, obviously waiting to be told what to do next. “Remove her restraints, drop them on the deck, and then kick them over to me. Then get that patch off of her mouth. When you’re done, step back out... alone.” He pointed at the young woman, “You stay in there.”
“What if she needs to use the head?” Rogers asked him as he unlocked the restraints.
“She’s a big girl and this won’t take too long,” Dylan replied. “She can hold it.”
Rogers dropped the restraints to the deck and then went to work on the patch covering the young woman’s mouth. It took him a couple of minutes, but he did manage to get it off without too much difficulty.
“Anything else?” Rogers asked him.
“Kick those restraints over to me.”
Rogers�
�� gaze fell to the restraints. He hesitated for a moment—had he been planning to try to do something with them?—then kicked them over to Dylan as he was told. Being careful to keep the pistol trained on the commander, Dylan squatted down and picked them up, and then slipped them into his waistband as he stood up again. “Step out, Commander.” He backed off as Rogers complied. “Close the door and lock her in.” Rogers did so. “Back to the airlock.”
“What about the rest of my people?” Rogers asked as he led the way.
“You’re going to bring them aboard right now,” Dylan told him as they walked back into the anteroom. “You’ll find them all lying unconscious on the deck in the galley, just beyond the airlock. The crew of the civilian cruiser has collected all of their weapons by now and will arrange to return them to Solfleet Security Command voluntarily at some later time. You’ll carry your people over here one at a time and lay them on the deck in this room. After you bring the last one over, you’ll close and seal the airlock and then lock them in here.”
“And then what?”
“Then you let the civilian cruiser go. I know there’s an automated jumpstation nearby and I’ve left them its coordinates. We’ll wait until they’ve gone and are safely away, and then you’ll fly us to the surface.”
“I can’t fly this thing,” Rogers claimed.
Dylan snickered. “You’re the only officer on your team. That tells me you’re the pilot, so either you’ll fly us to the surface or I will. And I’m not a pilot, so I can’t guarantee that we’ll land softly if I’m doing the flying.”
Rogers sighed, then cycled the airlock. He brought his people over one at a time and laid them down on the anteroom deck as instructed—he took his good sweet time about it, too, and Dylan had to tell him several times to pick up the pace—then closed and sealed the airlock and notified the Star Eagle that they were free to detach and go on their way. As soon as they had done so, Dylan waved the pistol at Rogers and said, “Flight deck.”
Rogers led the way out of the anteroom, locked his people inside, and then continued leading the way to the flight deck. “Whatever it is you’re up to, you’ll never get away with it,” he said while they walked. “Even if I do take you to Window World...”
“You will take me to Window World, Commander,” Dylan told him. “You’ll take me to Window World or you’ll see your team die. And although I can’t tell you why, you should hope that I do get away with it.”
“You would really do that?” Rogers asked him as they stepped onto the flight deck. “You still insist you’re an S-I-A agent. If you are, then you’re a Solfleet officer as well. You’d really kill five fellow servicemen?”
“Six,” Dylan corrected him, pointing the pistol at his head. “And why should I care? If Solfleet Command is wrong about me and I really am an agent on a mission, then you don’t want to stop me and won’t force me to kill any of you. If, on the other hand, Solfleet Command is right and I really am an imposter and a killer, then killing all of you won’t bother me.”
Rogers thought it over for a few moments and then said, “I’m not real sure you answered my question, but...”
“Bring the jumpstation up on your screen,” Dylan commanded him, interrupting.
Rogers took a seat in the pilot’s chair and did as he was told. A little more than half an hour later, during which time Dylan had tried to think of everything that could possibly go wrong and plan out how he would deal with it if it did, the Star Eagle finally approached the ring and jumped through. Thank God this star system was a small one. Otherwise he might have had to sit there with the commander and watched for an entire day or more.
“All right, Commander,” Dylan said as soon as the ring powered down, “let’s go.”
Rogers hesitated, then said, “I can’t take you down there.”
Dylan gazed at him for a moment, then said, “I do believe you’re willing to sacrifice your own life to keep me away from the Portal if you have to, Commander, but I don’t believe you’re prepared to condemn your whole team to death. Not while there still might be another way.”
“What other way?” Rogers asked, looking at him.
“That’s for you to decide,” Dylan replied.
Rogers sat there quietly for a few moments, then said, rather angrily, “All right, damn you. You win. I’ll take you down there.”
“That’s better,” Dylan said as he took the seat to Rogers’ right and faced him, holding the pistol in his lap but still trained on the pilot. “Standard course back to Window World at normal sector patrol speed,” Dylan ordered.
“Now, just how will you know for sure whether or not I’m following the proper course and speed?” Rogers asked him.
“Try me.”
Rogers looked at him, seemingly studying him, but Dylan could put on a pretty blank Poker face when he had to, and that was exactly what he did. Finally, Rogers sighed and set the controls for the return flight.
“Report in.”
“What?”
Dylan raised the pistol at him. “I said, report in. I know they’re aware you found us. Now contact your base and tell them the cruiser was just someone who wandered off course, and that you’ve let them go on their way.”
Rogers sighed as he opened a channel. “Ranger Control, this is Ranger one-six.”
“It’s about time you called in, Ranger one-six. What’s going on? What was that ship?”
“A civilian cruiser. Navigational error. I sent them back through the jump ring. We’re on our way back now. I’ll have a full report for the Commodore when we arrive.”
“Understood, Ranger one-six. Ranger Control out.”
“How long before we arrive?” Dylan asked him after he closed the channel.
“About forty minutes.”
“All right. Here’s what we’re going to do when we get there. First, you’re going to take us in and land as if nothing’s wrong. Once we’re down, you’re going to disembark alone and then bring your commanding officer aboard and introduce me as Special Agent Richard Jennings of the S-I-A.”
“It won’t work,” Rogers told him. “He already knows there’s no Jennings in the S-I-A.”
“There you go again, thinking the agency would willingly identify an agent for you. Just play your part and no one will get hurt.”
Rogers sighed. “Whatever you say, cowboy.”
Chapter 67
Dylan jumped to his feet the moment that Ranger one-six touched down on the surface of Window World. Rogers powered down the ship’s systems, then turned his chair toward Dylan and looked up at him., waiting for him to tell him what to do next.
“Contact your commanding officer,” Dylan directed. “Tell him to come aboard.”
Rogers turned back to the controls and opened the channel. “This is Ranger one-six to Ranger Control.”
“Ranger Control. Go ahead, Ranger one-six,” the response came immediately.
“This is Commander Rogers. Send the commodore aboard, please.”
“Say again your last, Ranger one-six,” the person speaking for Ranger Control requested, sounding as though Rogers’ request was both unexpected and highly unusual.
“You heard me, Control,” Rogers replied. “Request that you send the commodore aboard immediately.”
“Roger that, Commander. He’ll need a few minutes. Stand by.”
They waited, silently, for several minutes. Then, finally, a different voice came over the channel—a man’s voice, saying, “Commander, this is the commodore. I’m outside your airlock.”
“Show me,” Dylan ordered.
Rogers brought an image of a uniformed officer standing outside the airlock up on the screen, but the man was standing with his head down so that his face wasn’t discernible. He was wearing commodore’s stars on his shoulders, however.
“Let him in.” Rogers opened the airlock. “Let’s go.”
Rogers led Dylan to the anteroom, where they came face-to-face with...
“Major Hansen,” Dyla
n said, recognizing the man easily and raising his pistol at him. He had no intention of shooting him, of course, but he didn’t know that. As far as Dylan could tell, he was unarmed, but he wasn’t about to take any chances. “Keep your hands at your sides.”
“Commander Jennings, I presume,” Hansen said as he started circling slowly.
“Don’t bother, Major,” Dylan told him. “You don’t believe that’s my real name any more than I believe you’re really a commodore. Pretty clever, using that rank as a duress signal. Now I’m left wondering what waits for me outside this vessel.”
Hansen took a tentative step toward Dylan as he said, “I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about that, Mister... Graves, is it? Is that name your real name?”
“It is,” Dylan admitted. And why not. What difference did it make now?
“Okay. At any rate, as I was saying, Mister Graves, you needn’t worry about what might be waiting for you outside, because now there are two of us in here with you.” Rogers, following Hansen’s lead, began circling around Dylan in the opposite direction. “And although you may be able to shoot one of us, the other one will...”
Dylan whipped his pistol around and shot Rogers in his leg. Taken by surprise, Hansen looked on as Rogers collapsed screaming to the deck, holding his wounded leg in both hands, and by the time he looked back at Dylan, he was aiming the pistol back at him again. “The other one will watch,” Dylan said, completing the major’s statement for him.
“You son-of-a-bitch!” Hansen shouted, his eyes wide with rage. “What did you do that for? That man needs help now! Let me call a medic in here!”
“He’ll live,” Dylan calmly advised him, even as the commander’s pained moans grated on his nerves. He certainly hadn’t wanted to shoot him, and he deeply regretted that he’d had to. “I aimed for the outside so I’d only hit muscle. He’ll be all right, as will all of the members of his team here.” Hansen looked around at the security policemen who lay unconscious on the deck around him. “They should start waking up in a couple hours, long after I’m safely on my way.”
