by Daniel Gibbs
“I still have some of that righteous fire,” Qadir said with a grin.
“Oh, don’t worry. I do too. I look at it like this: I don’t have to go to Gilead. I’d never come here, to be frank, unless ordered. The Terran Coalition has a wide range of rules on its respective planets. That’s the beauty of our system.”
“On Arabia Prime, these fools would find themselves without a hand for sixty days for selling destructive drugs.”
“And in New America, they send you to rehabilitation. My homeworld? Hard labor. See what I mean? Different rules on each planet, with a common set of rights and obligations of our citizens.”
“I like you, David,” Qadir said after she was silent for a moment. She turned and smiled warmly. “Yours is a refreshing outlook. Perhaps a bit too rosy for me, but welcome all the same.”
Before he could respond, the helicar pitched downward, indicating it was coming in for a landing. As the Terran Coalition embassy loomed ahead of them, the computer voice of the vehicle sounded. “Please identify yourself for the Terran Coalition Marine Corps security sentry.”
“Colonel David Cohen, Coalition Defense Force.”
“Identity confirmed. Thank you for riding Gilead Transport,” the computer voice replied.
A few seconds later, there was a soft thud as the helicar landed and the passenger doors automatically opened, sunlight spilling into the compartment and making David squint from the brightness of the light. He climbed out of the vehicle to see several Marines standing around. They all came to rigid attention and saluted him at the same time as he put on his cover. The moment his cover was secure, he brought his hand to his brow and returned the salutes crisply.
“As you were,” David said, taking in the scene around him. “Colonel Cohen, CSV Lion of Judah. Director Qadir, CBI counterintelligence. We need to meet with—”
“Miranda Eldred. Coalition Intelligence Service. Please, come with me.” A tall human female with striking features approached them. She had flaming red hair and numerous freckles across her face.
Qadir made her way around the helicar and appeared at David’s side. “I do not take orders from CIS.” Her tone was unmistakable in its annoyance.
“You’re here to deal with Orbita, are you not?” Eldred asked.
Qadir stared at the newcomer, her face a scowl. “No, we’re here to address the cost of tea imports from this planet.”
David couldn’t help himself; he let out a snicker. She’s almost as acerbic as Hayworth.
“I have an asset in play with direct information. Want to know more? Follow me to the SCIF.”
Military acronyms. Sensitive compartmented information facility, a fancy way of saying enclosed room with no windows and limited access. David cleared his throat. “I’d love to hear what you’ve dug up, Agent Eldred.”
Eldred nodded once then set off at a brisk walk.
Taking note of a perturbed look from Qadir, David fell in behind the CIS agent, marching across the courtyard of the embassy and through many corridors and office spaces. They finally arrived at a large set of security doors; a classic “man trap.”
“This is Miranda Eldred. Verify voiceprint ID.”
Moments later, a disembodied computer voice replied, “Voiceprint ID confirmed. You may enter.”
She held the door open for them as David and Qadir strode in. “Sign in at the desk, Colonel, with your digital fingerprint. You too, Director.”
“How do you know who I am?” Qadir asked, her tone direct and forceful.
“Well, I am CIS,” Eldred replied with a wicked grin on her face.
David was barely able to suppress a smile at their banter. I’ve got a feeling these two could land verbal body blows all day. “So, what’s the intel?”
The room was empty, but even then, Eldred seemed troubled. She turned on an artificial noise generator, which would impede audio surveillance, and engaged a jamming system before turning back toward the two of them. “I’ve been looking into one of the drug cartels on this planet for some time now, because we busted a League operative attempting to make contact with them. The Gileadeans refused to allow us to rendition the operative back to CIS facilities near Canaan, so I’ve quietly kept going.”
“I still have a hard time believing the League’s working with common criminal and thugs,” David said in a pointed tone.
“Believe it, Colonel. The organization I’ve been trying to get into is so secretive, it doesn’t have a name. It took me two dead operatives to determine the identity of the man at the top. An Edward Feldt.”
“I’m not aware of any individual by that name coming up in connection to Orbita,” Qadir interjected.
“By design. Feldt is insulated from most investigations, lives off the grid, and pays off half of Gilead. He also uses his immense wealth to help the poor who live around his compounds. He’s seen as a benefactor against a corrupt government.”
“A drug dealer with a conscience?” David asked, his mouth curled up in a smirk.
“Hardly,” Eldred replied with a snort. “This guy is a sociopath, Colonel. He represents the worst humanity has to offer. You cross him, and he kills your entire family. All the man cares about is power.”
“So why don’t we call in an orbital neutron cannon strike from the Lion of Judah and take him out?”
Qadir glanced at David, one eyebrow raised.
“Gilead won’t allow us. Trust me, I’ve tried,” Eldred continued. “You know the deal. We have to abide by the rules of the host planet. They tread a fine line, trying to claim neutrality while at the same time, trading with us and availing themselves of CDF protection. We’re hamstrung by their rules.”
“Okay, then, what’s next? Director Qadir and I have a broad mandate to stop Orbita. If he’s the focal point for its sale and distribution, our job is to stop him by any means necessary.”
Eldred turned and walked over to a console, manipulating it and turning on a holoprojector in the far end of the SCIF. A series of images rotated through the display, including a large cluster of warehouses in the middle of a desert, and ship large enough to be a destroyer. “This is his main center of operations, about two hundred kilometers south of here. We’re talking about someone who bought an old merchant ship and turned it into a private warship. I realized I wasn’t getting anywhere because there’s a leak somewhere inside of Gilead security, or perhaps even CIS officers stationed on the planet.”
More traitors? David’s face scrunched up, and he furrowed his brow in anger. “I have little patience for traitors of any type.”
“Especially ones motivated by money,” Qadir interjected. “They’re disgusting.”
“I’m running an operative off the books. I don’t know her name. She’s referred to as “Z.” She approached us, and I happened to catch her before she spoke to any other case officers. Claims to be high enough up the food chain to have actionable intelligence we can use to bring him down.”
David exchanged a double-take with Qadir. “Ballsy, Eldred. I like it.”
Eldred shrugged. “I want Feldt off the board, and we all want Orbita stopped.”
“Do you have anything we can use now?”
Eldred broke into a wide grin. “How about the ship name, launch point, and a covert transponder attached to a ship carrying several thousand kilograms of Orbita, leaving Gilead tomorrow?”
“Yeah, that’ll do,” David said. “We’ll board, capture, and interrogate the prisoners. Get the next rung up the ladder, so to speak.”
“Got it in one, Colonel. Except for one thing. They’ll be challenging to break. Knowing your family is dead if you talk is one heck of a powerful motivator not to.”
“We could run identity checks against everyone as soon as we can capture the ship, then start rounding up their families,” Qadir interjected.
David nodded thoughtfully. This could work. “I’ll start coordinating with the Lion, and we can use this room as a command post if you’re agreeable?”
“Works for me, Colonel,” Eldred said as she removed a small device from the terminal and held it out toward him. “You’ll want to review this to position your ship properly.”
David took the storage unit. “Thank you.”
“No, Colonel. Thank you. We’ve finally got a chance at cracking this wide open and seeing the good guys win for a change.”
“Hey, boss!” Harold Billings called out, waving toward Kenneth. “Watch out. There’s a live wire on the feed coming out of that power relay.”
Kenneth was performing a tour of one of the mothballed ships they were working on. It’s vital to get out of my cubbyhole of an office and see some real work being done. Sparks shot out of the panel he was next to, causing him to jump back. “Lovely, Master Chief!”
“Shut it off!” Billings shouted toward a tech at a nearby computer terminal.
“Sorry, sirs, it’s secure,” the tech reported as the sparks died down and stopped.
“Won’t look good on my next performance review to have ‘killed my program manager’ on the deficits line,” Billings said, causing a streak of laughter to ripple through those in earshot, including Kenneth.
He flashed a grin. “No worries, Master Chief. Got a minute?”
“Of course, sir.”
Kenneth gestured down an empty passageway, and the older man fell in beside him. Once they were more than a few steps away, and out of range of prying ears, he spoke. “How’s it going over here?”
“Like crap.”
“Details?”
“The reactor upgrades are slow enough on their own, but the new power distribution system installations are worse. Half the work has to be redone, and blown conduits have put two of my guys in the doc shack so far.”
Lovely. Suppressing a desire to groan, Kenneth furrowed his brow and grumbled, “First things first… our guys okay?”
“Yeah, they’re fine. Just got singed a bit. They were cleared and are back on the job,” Billings said, his tone quiet yet aggressive.
“Let me guess, Casey’s crews aren’t doing their jobs?”
“How’d you know?”
“You’re not the first to complain. I’ve observed it firsthand too.”
Billings stopped walking and faced Kenneth. “Look, boss, this is above my pay grade, but these guys are a waste of space. Half of them don’t show up to work until 1100 hours and are gone by 1500. Forget the C team—they’re the F team.”
Kenneth snickered. “Gotta love that.”
“Can you do anything about it?”
“Maybe,” Kenneth replied. “I’m going to gather more information and poke around Casey’s organization. Might have some talks with team leads, see if one of the more honest ones will tell me what’s going on. I can’t believe the level of sloppiness we’re seeing occurs on its own, without tacit approval.”
“I’m happy I don’t have to deal with the stuff you do, boss.”
“So what else is going on? How’s the team holding up?” Kenneth asked, eager to get away from the soul-sucking problems that seemingly confronted them at every turn. I want to come in one day and have everything go reasonably right. Then again, that might get boring.
Billing’s face clouded over. “I’ve had some discipline issues lately.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. A few people have been getting into it with each other over politics.”
Kenneth’s jaw dropped. “Politics?”
“I’ve never seen my friends more animated about a presidential campaign.”
“Guess I haven’t noticed. I’ve been wound up with work. I mean, what are they arguing about? Fuentes’ platform doesn’t make much sense to me.”
“That’s the thing. It appeals to many. Especially the peace part. Can’t say I don’t consider it. We’ve expelled the League from ‘our’ side of the galaxy. What’s wrong with trying to cut a deal?”
“First and second battle of Canaan for starters,” Kenneth shot back as his face turned red. “There’s no negotiating with those communists. They’ll keep coming until one side finishes the job… I say better dead than red.”
“Tell that to the two-hundred-thousand-plus dead soldiers and Marines from just the last year.”
“Should they die in vain?” Kenneth said, his voice suddenly quiet. “Because if we don’t finish the job, they died for nothing.”
“I don’t see it like that, boss.”
“We can always agree to disagree.”
“Yeah. I guess. Seems like everyone is on edge about it,” Billings replied as he took a step back and crossed his arms.
“Probably because Fuentes is burning down the Terran Coalition with his insane rhetoric.”
“You know most of the young guys support him?”
Kenneth’s jaw dropped open. “Surely you’re joking?”
“Nope, and don’t call me Shirley.”
Both men busted out laughing at the lame joke.
“That one never gets old, Master Chief.”
“Seriously though, boss. I’ve never seen it like this. People are yelling at each other, cursing over politics. Maybe it’s just me, but I never recall being this on edge about an election.”
Kenneth shook his head in agreement. “Not just politics. I’ve even overheard religious debates break out, leading to screaming and shouting matches about who’s going to hell.”
“Stupidity.”
There’s a reason Mom said not to discuss religion and politics in polite company. “Keep trying to push these reactor guys along for me, okay? And see if your friend will send me those stand down orders you were talking about.”
“All over it, boss.”
Kenneth slapped the older man on the shoulder and flashed a grin. “If this crap was easy, anyone could do it, right?”
“Something like that, sir.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Kenneth said as he turned on his heel and walked away. His mind flashed with anger as he considered the waste of funds and time, delaying reinforcements to the men and women in harm’s way, thousands of lightyears away.
11
The roar of an arriving shuttle filled the VIP shuttle bay of the Lion of Judah. Hanson had it diverted once he learned who was onboard. I’d like to understand how Lieutenant Goldberg and Major Merriweather got into a bar brawl. As the shuttle came to a rest, its engines cut off, and the side hatch swung open.
Hanson stepped forward, first in line, with a couple of security personnel in tow.
Ruth stuck her head out first and gingerly walked out. “Uh, hi, Major.”
“Please tell me this is a joke.”
Merriweather came next.
“No joke, Major. A few teenagers made lewd comments, and one thing led to another…” Ruth smirked as she spoke. “Don’t worry, I didn’t cause any lasting damage, except to their pride.”
Hanson’s eyes widened. “What about you, Major? The report said you were involved.”
“I… well, I was mostly a bystander, though I support the lieutenant’s actions entirely.”
At that moment, Hayworth exited the craft.
Hanson lost all measure of composure and openly stared at the old scientist. “Doctor?”
“Yes, Hanson?”
“You’re going to have to explain this to me. They arrested you too?”
“Some pompous jerk insulted my friends.”
Ruth and Merriweather both leaned forward at the same time and stared at Hayworth. “Thanks, Doctor,” Ruth said.
“Arrogant jerk had it coming. You just beat me to it, Lieutenant.”
I can’t put the ship’s tactical officer and our best engineers on food and water diet for three days. “Ugh, guys. You’re putting me in a bad spot here.”
“I recall the colonel’s orders about crew picked up by the local police,” Ruth replied, her smile turning up in wattage until it overpowered the room. “But surely he didn’t mean for self-defense?”
“We both know he’s not one for favoritism,” Hanson said
as he frowned.
“I don’t think anyone’s interested in going back to Gilead, are we?” Ruth asked as she gestured to Merriweather and Hayworth, who both vehemently shook their heads. “It’s settled, then. Just let us off with a ban on further interaction with the locals.”
“I don’t think so, Lieutenant. I’m going to confine both you and the major to quarters, except for while on duty and to eat at the mess. Doctor Hayworth is exempt because he’s a civilian. No notices will be put in your personnel jacket.” As Hanson spoke, his voice gained confidence.
“Oh, it’s not like I have anything to do besides my duties and eating anyways,” Ruth said. “Permission to be dismissed, sir?”
“You’re all dismissed. Lieutenant Goldberg, the first watch commences in five hours. Be sure that you’re there.” Hanson’s head dipped a bit, and he bit down on his lip. “I have some bad news. Lieutenant Taylor suffered exposure to Orbita.”
“What?” Ruth asked, her voice rising in volume and pitch.
“I don’t have all the details, except that it was in the water. He’s resting in the doc shack.”
“I’d like to visit Taylor,” Ruth said, her jaw set and arms crossed.
“You may visit him for thirty minutes a day.”
Ruth’s face clouded over. “Aye aye, sir,” she replied before stomping off.
Merriweather too walked off, leaving Hanson and Hayworth together.
“Good to see you showing some spine, my boy,” Hayworth said with a genuine smile. “Is it a side effect of sitting in the CO’s chair?”
Hanson smiled uncomfortably. “I don’t know, Doctor. Colonel Cohen has challenged me to try the leadership track. I never saw myself as anything more than a wrench monkey, but if he thinks I’ve got what it takes, I’ll at least give it a shot.”
“Leadership isn’t about making popular decisions. I would tell you that if everyone likes what you do, you’re doing it wrong.”
