by Daniel Gibbs
“Thanks, doc.”
“Aren’t we past you calling me doc?” Hayworth fumed, though with a smile.
“Sorry, old habits. It’s a term of endearment, I promise.”
“Sure, sure. Oh, what am I to do? An entire ship full of people to annoy and no Eliza to keep me in line.”
Hanson laughed. “Have fun with that.”
“Oh, I plan to,” Hayworth said, an evil-looking grin plastered across his face.
Several hundred kilometers away, the woman known as “Z” to the Coalition Intelligence Service stirred from her bed. The room she lived in was several meters down the hall from Feldt. The space was well-kept and had every luxury she could want. A gilded cage where I’m kept in splendor amidst the suffering around me. She thought back to the day her parents had sent her on to what they’d been promised was a high-paying job in the Terran Coalition. She’d ended up as a prostitute and eventually a drug addict on Gilead. Scooped into Feldt’s employ four years ago, he’d taken a liking to her. My deal with Satan himself.
Standing up from the bed, she reflected on her task today: placing a tracking device on a freighter the Terrans wanted to capture. If they catch me, I will be killed in the worst possible way imaginable. Worse, he’ll kill my parents. She made the sign of the cross in front of a small shrine to the Virgin Mary and went to shower. Even water was a luxury out here in the harsh desert. Most did only the minimal amount to sustain life, but Feldt had unlimited amounts for his compound.
“I am Carmina Ramirez, and I am not a slave.” The words fell out of her mouth. They were a mantra she’d repeated every day for six months.
A short time later, she dressed for the day, her hair done up and makeup applied—just the way Feldt prescribed. To defy him in anything, even as small as what color shoes to wear, resulted in death. Her first duty was to join him for breakfast at seven A.M. Gathering herself, she knocked on the door of his suite.
The door swung open to reveal his butler. “Come in, my lady,” the white-haired gentleman said. He had a practiced British accent. One of Feldt’s quirks was he wanted a British butler.
“Thank you,” she replied with a hint of a smile. Walking through the apartment, she did what she’d done countless times before, and forced herself to act naturally.
“Good morning, my sweet.”
Feldt’s voice made her blood run cold, more so than usual. She turned toward him and smiled. “How did you sleep, my dear?” Their relationship consisted of him thinking she was somehow grateful for what he’d “done” for her.
“Very well. The bed is so soft.”
“You said that yesterday.”
Ramirez smiled. “I know, but a soft, comfortable bed is such a luxury here.”
“Perhaps I will join you in it tonight. I have some business to attend to today that should turn out quite well.”
He always wants to celebrate with me. The thought made her shiver involuntarily.
“Are you cold?”
“No, just a passing feeling. I’m fine.”
Nothing else was said as they walked to the fine dining room, taking their respective seats at the head and foot of a long table, with place settings for twelve. Like everything else Feldt owned, it was ostentatious to the point of being absurd. An antique, eight hundred years old, it had come from Earth during the exodus. At least, according to his boasts. Why he’d wasted the million credits he claimed he had on it was beyond her.
Breakfast was two poached eggs with an English muffin. She ate quietly, speaking only when spoken to.
“Something is on your mind,” Feldt said out of the blue.
Ramirez nearly choked on the bit of food in her mouth. “Why do you say that, my love?”
He smiled coldly, his eyes dull and lifeless. “Because you aren’t your normal happy-go-lucky self. What’s bothering you?”
Her pulse quickened. Does he suspect? “You know I have concern for the women with children in the village.”
“So you’ve said.”
“They need more water,” she said in what she hoped was a plaintive tone. “The summer has been so hot, one child has already died.”
Feldt shrugged, a callous look on his face. “They decided to become indebted to me. They must now work off their debt.”
“But how can a woman, worried for her children, work as hard as she can in the fields?”
“You’re saying I’d get higher productivity if the children had more water?”
Ramirez summoned a smile. “Exactly, dear.” The word of endearment nearly strangled her as it came out of her mouth. “If it were possible, perhaps an air-conditioned room for them to play in during the day?”
“If I ever put you in charge of my business, you’d bankrupt me in a day,” Feldt replied, his mouth returning to a cold smile. “I will do as you’ve asked. Do be prepared to reward me later.”
The way he said it brought a wave of revulsion throughout her body that was hard to ignore. Still, she forced a smile to her face. “I look forward to it.”
Feldt stood and kissed her on the top of her head as he went by. “Have a good day.”
After he was gone, she sat there for several minutes, hands shaking so hard, she couldn’t finish her meal. After calming herself, she stood and made her way out of the suite. A brief stop to retrieve her purse later, she went downstairs to the underground garage and took her car—an electric model without flight capability—and drove to the landing field and hangars that made up Feldt’s private spaceport.
The buildings were squat, ugly, and in places unfinished. While Feldt spends absurd amounts of credits on his personal residence, things outside his daily view don’t get the same treatment. She parked the vehicle in a lot and got out. The drive had taken a good hour, and she’d worn high heeled shoes, which hurt. Standing in the sun, she stretched her legs a minute before setting off toward the hangar she’d found out earlier from one of the servants housed the freighter due to depart later in the afternoon.
As she strode up to the hangar bay, one of the male workers called out, “Halt! Who goes there?”
She turned and smiled as brightly as she could. “I’m Carmina Ramirez.”
The mere mention of her name was enough to inspire fear. It was well understood that to insult one of Feldt’s concubines was to invite death. “I am so sorry, ma’am. What can I do for you today?” His tone melted to one of abject fear, as if he’d walked over his own grave.
Usually, I would go out of my way to make them feel better, but not today. Ramirez drew her eyebrows together and kept her lips tight. “I’m here to retrieve a shipment of food for a surprise party. It’s being held in this hangar. Stay out of my way or Mr. Feldt will hear of your insolence.”
The man didn’t reply. He scurried away as fast as his legs would carry him. Fear spread like a wave from him as he rushed over to a foreman and presumably told him what had occurred.
Ramirez turned on her heel and walked across the hangar. Her shoes made a clacking noise on the concrete surface, while she was sure every man in the building was staring at her. But they’re not looking for the right thing. The thought brought fear to the surface, as well as pride. A pride she was finally able to feel, moments away from placing the device CIS had dead-dropped to her some months before.
There was, in fact, a special shipment of food in the building. She’d made sure of it and allowed herself a moment of relief when the bright teal shipping container it was in came into her line of sight. She spent a few minutes pulling out the satchel of dried fruit from off-world, and pure flour from Canaan—a costly delicacy. The mundane task completed, she strode around the back of the freighter parked in the hangar. Out of eyesight for a moment is all I need.
Thankfully, the loading crews were fully occupied, and no one was behind the freighter. She had the small device in her hand, so thin once it adhered to the ship’s hull, it couldn’t be detected except by a quantum scanner. A moment later, it was on the hull, and she was heading a
way from it. Her heart pounded in her chest, seeming as if it would explode from within. And then, she was out of the building and back at the car, driving down the dusty road toward Feldt’s compound.
Then, and only then, did the fear catch up with her. As her hands started shaking uncontrollably, she pulled off to the side of the road and wept. Soon I will be free if the Terran Coalition keeps its word. Praying in Latin, she eventually calmed down and wiped the tears away before driving on.
12
“We’ve got a signal,” Eldred said as a dot appeared on the tablet she had on the table.
David turned and glanced up from the document he was reviewing. “Are we sure it’s legit?”
“No way to know until it starts moving, Colonel.”
They were deep within the bowels of the Terran Coalition embassy, in a wing reserved for use by CIS only. It was the nerve center of the intelligence gathering and clandestine operations on Gilead.
It shouldn’t bother me, but we do claim to respect the neutrality of border planets. The thought bothered David as he pondered the corners they kept cutting in order to win. Then again, I suppose Gilead isn’t neutral with League agents running amok. He pushed the thoughts away and focused on the task at hand.
A new voice interrupted them. “Agent Eldred, I was just informed we’re expecting a live signal shortly. It would appear your asset came through.”
It belonged to a man with dark brown hair and a light skin tone. Coupled with an ever-so-slight accent, David pegged the newcomer to be from one of the Arabian planets.
Eldred stood quickly. “Sir, I didn’t realize you were following this. Please allow me to introduce Colonel David Cohen—”
The man cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Commander of the CSV Lion of Judah. The pride of the fleet. I am Abdul Rahman al-Lahim, chief of station for CIS on Gilead.”
David stood and extended his hand. “A pleasure. I seem to recall a Major al-Lahim from a report I read. Any relation?”
“One and the same,” al-Lahim replied as he shook the outstretched hand warmly. “I transferred from active duty CDF Intelligence to the civilian-led CIS to become the head of our Gilead detachment.” He gestured to an open chair. “May I?”
“Of course, sir,” Eldred said as beads of sweat became apparent on her face.
After they’d all sat once more, David glanced between the two intelligence agents. She has some anxiety. Eldred mentioned she’d been off the reservation with this one. The holoprojector in the back of the room was displaying a view of Gilead’s local star system, with an overlay of active sensor contacts.
“Any word from the asset?” al-Lahim asked.
Eldred swallowed hard. “Not as of yet, sir. We know she got the device months ago from a dead drop, and we have a signal from it now, as promised. The ship, if that’s what our transmitter is attached to, isn’t moving.”
“Give it time.”
A bit more serene than I’ve come to expect from the intel types. David pushed back from the table and smiled. “You’ve been after these guys for months. What're a few more minutes among friends?”
Al-Lahim cleared his throat and turned toward David. “Colonel, Agent Eldred has been so close after Edward Feldt, I’d almost have thought of him as her version of Captain Ahab. Still, I admire and respect the persistence. There are few individuals in our local star cluster worse than him, truly a despicable human being. Allah’s punishment for him will be most unpleasant.”
Further comment was cut off by Eldred. “We’ve got movement consistent with a spacecraft taxiing and taking off.” The relief in her voice was palpable.
All eyes turned toward the holoprojector, and the icon representing what they hoped was the freighter.
“The Lion of Judah will pick it up shortly, if it’s the ship we’re looking for,” David said.
Eldred stood and paced up and down in front of the holoprojector. “I’m looking forward to some clarity on Feldt’s organization. And what the League’s involvement is.”
Something tells me this man won’t be easy to defeat. Call it a gut feeling. “Amen.”
On any ship, including military vessels in space, boredom was an accepted fact of life. Even in war, there were long periods where nothing happened, and one stared at a readout that barely changed. Hanson stared out the transparent alloy windows at the front of the bridge. Especially when we’re in orbit of a neutral planet without so much as a decent defense network. He smirked at his last thought, taking in the bridge around him. Ruth sat at her usual spot at Tactical, while the XO’s chair was empty.
Hanson turned in the CO’s chair, glancing back toward Tinetariro. “Master Chief, how many of our crew has been brought back by shore patrol so far?”
“More than I’d care to admit, Major,” Tinetariro replied in her posh British accent. “Don’t worry. I’ve already assigned extra work details to the lightest offenders, and placed the rest in the brig.”
The smile on her face sent half a shiver down Hanson’s spine. Glad he was an officer, he turned back toward the ”windows” at the front of the bridge, staring into the blackness of space, with Gilead below them. Another day, another shift. Day two of being in command.
“Conn, TAO,” Ruth said, interrupting the quiet of the bridge. “Contact Sierra Two hundred Seventy-six is emitting a low EM band IFF pulse, and its signature is consistent with an Anderson type freighter.”
The bridge came alive almost instantly. Everyone sat up straighter in their seats, and Hanson’s pulse began to race. “TAO, authenticate the pulse with the pattern provided by Colonel Cohen.”
“Confirmed, sir. Same pattern.”
“TAO, re-designate Sierra Two hundred Seventy-six to Master One.”
“Aye aye, sir. Contact now designated Master One.”
Hanson glanced toward Lieutenant Bell, the second shift communications officer who had taken Taylor’s place on the bridge. “Communications, hail Master One. Order them to cease maneuvering and prepare to be boarded.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Bell replied.
On the tactical plot, Hanson watched as the small freighter did the opposite of what they’d instructed it to do—it accelerated—quickly. As the range started to open up, options ran through his mind.
“Navigation, intercept course, Master One. Flank speed.”
Hammond barely moved in her seat. “Aye aye, sir.”
Immediately, the deck plates of the massive warship started to vibrate with a different hum. There she purrs. Hanson knew the Lion inside and out. He pressed the button on the CO’s chair to link into 1MC, the universal intercom system. “Attention all hands, this is Major Hanson. Man your battle stations. I say again, man your battle stations. This is not a drill. Set condition one throughout the ship.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the lights on the bridge turned a deep blue hue. I’m not sure the last time I was up here during a drill, or an actual battle, for that matter. Everything looks different like this. Regardless, Hanson wasn’t worried. A freighter vs the Lion isn’t enough to earn a combat pin, much less be concerned over.
“Condition one set throughout the ship, sir.”
“TAO, raise shields, charge the weapons capacitor.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Ruth replied. “Shields up, energy weapon capacitor charged.”
“TAO, firing point procedures, Master One. Target them with neutron beams, disabling shots only.”
“Firing solutions set, sir.”
“Shoot, neutron beams.”
Blue lances of energy shot out of the Lion of Judah toward a point far enough away that Hanson could barely make out the impacts on the freighters’ protective screens. They flashed an angry blue, then collapsed. Explosions broke out across the aft of the ship, and from the tactical plot, he saw its forward velocity begin to fall as all forward thrust ceased, and the gravity of Gilead started to pull it back, towards the planet.
“Conn, TAO. Master One has been disabled.”
“Good job, everyone,” Hanson said, all smiles. “Communications, let's see if they’d like to talk now. Send our surrender demand one more time.”
“Engine status?”
“Everything aft of the fourth hold is gone, boss.”
The plaintive wail of the man’s voice told Geno Petrov all he needed to know. They weren’t getting out of here under their own power. How’d the blasted Coalition Defense Force know who we are? “What about the escape pods?”
“They’re intact,” his second mate replied.
“Get the crew moving to them. I’ll rig the self-destruct.”
“You got it, boss.”
The small man scurried off the bridge, leaving Petrov alone in the shambles of what, only a few minutes prior, was his pride and joy. He’d worked his way up the ladder of Feldt’s organization for years after being drummed out of Gilead’s customs patrol. I’d better get this over with. He picked up a small communication device. It was a unique tool that allowed direct, two-way contact with the cartel boss at any time. He pressed the button to activate it and waited.
A few seconds passed, and Feldt’s voice emanated from the speaker. “What is it, Petrov?”
“The CDF disabled the ship, sir. They’re sending boarding parties and have demanded we surrender.”
There was a pregnant pause before Feldt spoke. “Do you have the means to escape?”
“The pods are intact, sir. I’m planning to set the self-destruct and abandon ship.”
“What ship attacked you?”
“The Lion of Judah.”
There was a string of oaths in three different languages from Feldt. “Damn those do-gooding religious fanatics. Have any of the pods launched yet?”
“No, sir.”
“Self-destruct the ship now, then.”
Petrov’s heart skipped a beat. What? How could he ask that? “But, Mister Feldt, we can still escape. Please, I have a family.”
“Yes, you do. So does the rest of your crew,” Feldt said, his voice like ice. “Do I need to remind you what I do to those who disobey my orders? Remember back to your initiation, Petrov. I won’t hesitate to kill everyone close to you, and the rest of your crew. I can’t risk any of you being caught by the Terran Coalition.”
