“Yes, sir.” She winced as a Marine medic prodded at her injured leg.
Crew members waved as he left the bridge and turned into the elevator shaft, thinking about his long list of tasks. A post-mission report needed to be prepared for presentation to Ambassador Andallis. Grimshaw also had to start drafting letters to the families of those who hadn’t made it. The loss of Captain Desmond, Lieutenant Yelchin, Officer Briggs, and the others weighed heavily on his heart.
Once he and the survivors were out of this mess, he’d see that every one of them received justice.
49
The Sentinel
Stars appeared on the bridge’s display as Project Zero exited from G-Gate Sentinel. Clio eased the ship into a curve that brought them perpendicular to the gate, lining her up with the distant circle of rock with a white star at its center. The nearer they drew to the Sentinel, the more its immense size became obvious.
To Grimshaw’s relief, Ascari had informed them about Project Zero’s ghost-drive. The device hadn’t been fully installed but would keep them hidden from anything at a distance. “How are we doing, Fresnel?”
“As far as I can tell, sir, we haven’t been seen.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Grimshaw said. “Cleaver, have you been able to get Minister Straiya or Jackson on the line? What about Ambassador Andallis?”
“Not yet, sir. I’ve sent the encrypted report to their addresses as requested. We’re getting through when we call, but no one’s answering.”
“It could be that the Galactic Council is in session. Keep trying. Evans, keep clear of any ships in the area. Avoid the main lanes if you can help it.”
“Yes, sir.” Clio shifted the ship away from her original approach angle. “Straying from the assigned lanes might flag us to Sentinel security.”
“I’m hoping the ghost-drive helps us avoid that,” he said nervously.
The artificial intelligence remained offline as she focused on operating Project Zero’s unfinished stealth system. Ascari explained that the engineers hadn’t finished interfacing the hardware with the ship. She left numerous subroutines running on the bridge to compensate for her absence.
Clio slowed the ship as they got closer to the Sentinel, a giant ring of stone rotating around its blinding power-source. “I see where it gets its name,” she whispered. “It’s like a planet-sized eye.”
“The Galactic Alliance and their Sentinel Intelligence Agency keep tabs on the rest of the galaxy from here,” Grimshaw pointed out. “When intergalactic relations require firmer solutions, they send in the Aegi. I guess you could say, the Council uses the station to keep an eye on galactic affairs.”
Humor was the last thing Clio expected from the Commander. She turned back to him with one eyebrow cocked. “How come you know so much about this place?”
“I was stationed on the Sentinel before transferring to Fleet Academy Four. I was more than happy to ship out. The place was full of drama back then, and I doubt things have improved since.”
“The political center of the galaxy,” Martin muttered.
“The Galactic Council think it’s the center of the universe.” The Commander sounded amused. “In a twisted kind of way, I guess they’re right, but don’t be saying that on-board. You might make them think they’re worth a damn.”
Clio wasn’t sure whether to laugh or act surprised. “If you don’t mind my saying, sir, it sounds like you’ve got an axe to grind.”
“Not at all, Ensign. I just don’t do politics. Politicians have their place in the scheme of things, but it doesn’t mean I have to like them.”
Ascari returned to bridge systems. “I’ve lost control of the stealth-drive and cannot bring it back online, Captain. The Sentinel has detected us.”
“Cleaver, any progress?” Commander Grimshaw asked earnestly.
“Same as before, sir.”
The Commander rubbed his chin. “How are we going to explain ourselves out of this one?”
“Sentinel dock security wish to speak with you, Captain,” Ascari said.
“Damn. Patch them through.”
“Unauthorized craft. This is Sentinel Control. Identify yourself and state your purpose.”
“This is Commander Grimshaw of the Terran Star Confederation Fleet. Requesting emergency assistance. We were attacked by an unknown enemy on Terran Colony 115. We have civilians and military personnel onboard with multiple casualties. We have an Aegis in sickbay. She’s in critical condition. My CF code is seven-three-three-eight-seven.”
The controller took some time before answering. “Lower your shields and prepare for deep scanning.”
Ascari’s voice spoke from his command console. “Captain, Project Zero has been targeted by four planetary ion-cannons.”
“Do as they say, Ascari.”
“Affirmative, Captain. Shields have been lowered.”
Silence followed as Sentinel Control ran their checks.
“Scan complete. Confederation and Aegi personnel confirmed. Sending coordinates for your assigned hangar. Dock and prepare for inspection. Sentinel Control out.”
Clio entered the coordinates on the navigation panel and Ascari plotted a course. They approached the station, drifting a few hundred feet above its outer shell, sections of reflective rock sparkling on its surface. An ocean of buildings, satellites, antennas, and other structures peppered with lights sped by the VD until they reached their assigned destination.
The dock was much bigger than Clio had expected. She assumed Sentinel Control would reserve the larger docks for larger ships.
The toothed doors parted, and Clio eased Project Zero into the belly of the beast.
She guided the ship through the subTerranean cavern, passing giant ancient pillars, spiraling support beams, and a host of other strange archaic formations.
Clio followed the route provided by Sentinel Control, and they eventual arrived at a much smaller circular docking door. Project Zero passed into a much smaller chamber, and after a pressurization sequence, was finally admitted access to the hangar.
Flashing green lights ran the length of the dock floor and ceiling. Navigation lines in Clio’s flight helmet directed her to a landing platform just big enough for the prototype ship. The hangar was no more significant than the one they had escaped from in Targos City.
Project Zero jolted ever so slightly as she touched down.
“Commander Grimshaw to all passengers. We have docked on the Sentinel. Medical personnel, bring the injured to the loading bay. Everyone else, remain on board until otherwise instructed.”
Lieutenant Dann moved close to the Commander and whispered something.
Commander Grimshaw nodded. “I agree with the Lieutenant. We should check it out first. O’Donovan, Martin. Come with me. Dann, make sure only those requiring medical treatment leave the ship. Saunders and Stone should be able to help. The rest of you sit tight until we know what’s going on.”
Clio kept Project Zero’s cameras trained on the Commander’s team as they made their way to the docking bay. As they descended the ship’s loading ramp, she switched to the outside feed and found a six-strong dock security team arriving, heavy weapons at the ready.
Commander Grimshaw and the others spotted the guards and aimed their weapons in kind.
“What’s with the guns, people?” Grimshaw called out.
The nearest guard, a Rivarian, stepped forward. “Jason Grimshaw, we’re taking you to SenSec downtown.”
“Like hell you are,” O’Donovan threatened, advancing several steps.
“Easy, O’Donovan,” the Commander said, maintaining his grip on his weapon. “On what grounds?”
“You are in violation of seven laws and two treaties. The Council—”
“What’s the meaning of this?”
Twenty-something heavily armed white guards spilled from a nearby doorway. A blue-robed man with a white beard appeared from among them and brushed past the SenSec squad leader as he approached Grimshaw
, seemingly unconcerned by all the pointed guns.
“Councilor Assad,” the SenSec squad leader stumbled over his words. “We have orders to take the Commander—”
“By whose authority?”
“Councilors Vigz and Ladra assigned—.”
“I should have guessed,” the councilor snapped. “Where is your arrest warrant?”
“I ah—”
“No warrant. No arrest. Or do I have to recite your own policies, Sergeant Chin?”
“But Councilor—”
“I have express orders from Minister Straiya to take charge of these people.” He handed a compad to Sergeant Chin. “If you have a problem, you can take it up with her.”
The SenSec Sergeant looked over the compad, and his expression twisted in frustration.
“I’m afraid I can’t—”
“Must you really force me to get Highminister Orren on the line?” The robed man raised his SIG to his face. “You know as well as I do how much she hates to be bothered by such insignificant affairs, even more so when she’s in the middle of negotiations with several representatives of the Varg Primark.”
The Sergeant threw up his hand and took a step back. “That won’t be necessary.”
“You can return to your post now, Sergeant. And remind your superiors that they would do well not to stick their noses into Terran affairs.”
“Of course.” Sergeant Chin bowed his head and turned to Grimshaw, a dangerous look in his reptilian eyes. “Enjoy your stay on the Sentinel, Commander.” He handed the compad back to Councilor Assad and gave Commander Grimshaw one last look before leading his guards away.
“That was intense,” Commander Grimshaw said. “You have my thanks, Councilor Assad.”
“You think that was bad?” The robed man chuckled. “You should try spending five minutes in the Open Chamber.”
“What laws and treaties are they talking about?”
“Let’s not loiter here,” the councilor said, looking out across the hangar. “SenSec and the SIA have no jurisdiction at the embassy. It would be wise to take matters there. For now, let it suffice to say that every councilor and his dog wants a private audience with you, Commander. You’ve caused quite a stir on the Sentinel.”
“But I’ve only just got here,” Grimshaw muttered. “I’ve been halfway across the galaxy, completely cut off from all communications, until only a few hours ago.”
“You’ll find that news travels fast on the Sentinel, Commander. I’ll explain more when we reach the embassy.” Councilor Assad started walking and urged Grimshaw, Martin, and O’Donovan to follow. “Some very influential people are waiting to meet you.”
Three white consul guards joined the blue-robed man as he walked. The rest remained in the hangar and guarded Project Zero.
“Should I be nervous?” Grimshaw asked.
“Let’s just say that I hope you packed a spare pair of underwear. Now come, we must hurry.”
“We’ve got injured people on board, Aegis Eline—”
“A full medical crew has already been dispatched. They will be here in a matter of minutes. Most of my guards will also remain…to keep an eye on things.”
They walked beyond Project Zero’s audio range and their voices faded out. Clio watched as they reached the doorway the consul guards had flooded through and disappeared from sight.
Several white guards climbed the ramp and assisted the Marines in moving the injured into the hangar bay. Two Marines wheeled Aegis Eline’s mobile cot unit onto the hangar floor. Two white guards took over from them, wheeling the Aegis after Commander Grimshaw and the others.
“Okay, folks,” Clio said, climbing from her chair and holding onto her terminal for support. “Let’s get everyone else ready to leave this bird.”
Swigger came to her and lent his support. “I guess we can relax now,” the sharpshooter said, a hint of his usual humor returning.
Clio looked at her terminal’s VD then back to him. “Something tells me that’s too much to hope for.”
50
High Places
Grimshaw followed Assad out of the hangar, O’Donovan and Martin in tow. They navigated a series of corridors before arriving at a small landing bay where a Terran consulate transport awaited. As they boarded the white aircar, Grimshaw noted the lavish interior and felt uncomfortable in such a pristine environment after spending so long caked in Targos dirt.
Project Zero was just as clean cut, but her interior had been designed in favor of function.
He turned down Assad’s offer of champagne.
“I suppose it’s best you keep your wits about you,” the councilor said.
“It doesn’t help when you’ve barely slept in days.” Grimshaw offered a pragmatic smile.
Assad raised his narrow glass before sipping the fizzing liquid, and the transport swept out of the mini hangar, up a ramp, and straight into the sky above Sentinel City.
Grimshaw watched through a tinted window as the vehicle zoomed above streets choked with high-rises, heading toward streams of ant-like traffic weaving in and out of skyways.
Far below, Izmark River cut a blue line through the center of the city. Blocks of high concrete buildings radiated from one side of the sparkling water while much grander establishments, with a great deal more space, spread out from the other: the rich separated from the poor even on the Sentinel. Grimshaw lifted his eyes to the blue expanse above the aircar’s glass roof. Ancient barriers outside the Sentinel’s inner rings shielded Overway residents from the same neutron star radiation and gravity well that provided the Sentinel’s light and power.
“We got the report you sent,” Assad said. “Very troubling to say the least. I’m still digesting the contents myself.”
“I still haven’t come to terms with it myself if I’m honest.”
Martin and O’Donovan muttered agreement.
“From the sounds of it, you were fortunate to make it off the planet alive.”
“I had good people behind me.” Grimshaw grimaced. “And plenty who didn’t make it.”
“The death toll was heavy. We will mourn them in time.”
“Have you warned the Galactic Council about the invaders? They could be attacking other systems on the Fringe as we speak.”
“The Council is...” Assad paused as though looking for the correct words. “The Council is in disarray at present. Throwing your report into the works would only complicate matters further.”
“Surely they need to know about this threat.” Grimshaw was starting to feel that Assad wasn’t taking the matter very seriously, reminding him why he hated politicians. They always took their own sweet time getting anything done, even when lives were at stake. “You read the file. These Chits are formidable. They took out the SS Goliath with barely any effort. We escaped by the skin of our teeth, even with Project Zero. For all we know, that dreadnought-class ship we encountered was just one of many. Either way, attacking Colony 115 was an act of war.”
“I understand your concerns, Commander, but things are most volatile on the Sentinel, to put it mildly. Not to mention unrest in other parts of the galaxy. We may be closer to war than you think.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve said all I can here.” Assad looked into the driver’s cabin nervously. “You’ll find out more when we land.”
The aircar turned from the densely populated side of the river and descended into the more spacious district. They flew above a wooded area for a while and came to the extravagant grounds of an upper-class property. The aircar turned sideways, blocking Grimshaw’s view of the place as it dropped them onto a landing pad. The doors slid aside, allowing them to exit. To Grimshaw’s surprise, they had landed outside a Shanti embassy building.
“I thought we were heading to the human embassy?”
Assad looked at him with a grim smile. “I’m afraid our own embassy is no longer…safe. Thankfully, we still have allies among the Shanti. Funny how one must turn to former enemies in
difficult times.”
Councilor Assad climbed out of the transport, and the old man’s guards fanned out, taking up positions around the grounds as they walked.
Grimshaw followed, the Sentinel’s sun gently warming his face.
Birds sang sweetly over the low distant hum of the city. Lush vegetation, including several fruit-bearing trees, surrounded the consulate building. Elaborate, white sculptures and ornaments had been placed in a manner that drew the eye. Low bushes shaped like exotic animals, most of which Grimshaw didn’t recognize, lined each side of the cobbled path they walked.
They passed under the shade of a marble archway and arrived at the entrance where two gray-clad Shanti guards nodded at Assad and stepped aside. The wooden doors boasted carved scenes of ancient Shanti warriors battling with seven-headed beasts. Assad knocked, and a camera extended from a recess to their left.
“Councilor. You’re just in time. The others are waiting.”
The door opened, and a handsome young Shanti with a tangle of black hair and white ears admitted them. He wore a dark tuxedo, a white shirt, and a red bowtie threaded with gold. He gracefully bowed as they entered and closed the door behind them before activating a giant lock.
Marble pillars supported the hallway’s vaulted ceiling. A wide ivory staircase wound onto a landing covered with a bright red rug. Paintings depicting legendary Shanti heroines hung on one wall, and ancient suits of armor stood in an even-spaced row against another.
A mix of Shanti and human guards stood at various windows and entrances. Grimshaw hadn’t been on the Sentinel in a long time, but he didn’t remember there being half as many guards at the human embassy. Perhaps Shanti politicians were a little more security conscious. “Is security usually so tight?”
Assad cackled as though Grimshaw had cracked a joke. “Having a lot of muscle around has become a bit of a necessity lately. Being a politician is a dangerous game to play these days.”
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