by Jim Proctor
“Megan!” Nolan yelled.
“It’s a tranquilizer dart. The man needs a tracheotomy, or he’s going to suffocate. The procedure is much easier on an anesthetized patient.” She pulled a knife from her pocket. “I need a piece of tubing with an opening of about a centimeter. Have you got anything?” she asked as she knelt by the unconscious man and rolled him onto his back. She felt along his larynx, selected a spot, and stuck her knife into the man’s throat.
“Oh, I think I’m going to be sick,” Nolan said as he turned away.
“Tubing! Find me something,” Megan said as she used her knife blade to hold the slit open. The man began breathing through the opening.
Nolan went to the kitchen and began searching through the drawers and cabinets. Finding nothing suitable, he hobbled down the hall to his study where he kept supplies that he used for making prototypes of small devices. A moment later, he returned with a short piece of polymer tubing. “Will this do? It’s all I have.”
“That’s perfect,” she said as she took the tube and worked it into the slit in the man’s throat.
“Oh, I really am gonna be sick,” Nolan said, turning away again.
The man began to breathe through the tube. Satisfied that he was out of danger, she said, “Grab your stuff. We need to get out of here.”
“You’re not leaving him in my apartment,” he said.
“Would you like to carry him down to the lobby and ask the person on the desk to call an ambulance?” she asked. “He’ll be fine. The tranquilizer will wear off soon, and he’ll take himself to a hospital.”
Nolan stared at the man on the floor.
“Nolan! Grab your stuff and let’s go!” Megan insisted. Nolan looked at her, but he didn’t move. “Go!” she urged. Picking up his suitcase, he turned and limped down the hall to his study. He hastily grabbed things and threw them into the suitcase. Satisfied that he had everything he needed, he closed the case and went to the living room. Megan was waiting for him by the door.
“Deep breath,” she said. “Calm yourself. We’re going to walk to the elevator as if nothing has happened.”
Nolan took a deep breath, then another. “Okay, let’s go.”
“Casual,” Megan said. “If we run into a neighbor, just smile and act normal.”
“I can’t act normal right now!” Nolan hissed.
“Then let me do the talking,” she said. “You just smile.”
They reached the elevator without encountering anyone. Nolan sighed in relief when the door opened, revealing an empty elevator. They stepped in. As the doors closed, Nolan turned to Megan and said, “What do we—?”
Megan threw her arms around him and kissed him. Then, holding him close, she whispered in his ear, “Security cameras and microphones in the elevator. Shut up.”
She stepped back and smiled at him. He looked at her, seemingly lost.
The elevator door opened onto the lobby, and Megan grabbed Nolan by the arm and led him to the door. Turning left, the pair walked casually up the sidewalk.
“What are you doing here?” Nolan asked when he finally pulled himself together. “You were supposed to go to your apartment to collect your things.”
“You’re welcome,” she said.
“Yes, well, thank you. I didn’t mean… I mean, I just don’t understand why you turned up at my apartment,” he said.
“I was worried about you. I only made it three blocks before I turned around and came here.”
“I’m glad you did,” Nolan said. “But how did you get into my apartment? You don’t have your data unit.”
“The same way that SACOM thug did. You left the door unlocked,” she said.
“No, I didn’t. I used the keypad to open the door.”
“Then you must have entered the code that unlocks the door and leaves it unlocked,” she said.
“There’s a code that does that?” he asked.
Megan shook her head. “Didn’t you read the instruction manual?”
“Yes, I did. Well, I skimmed it. Okay, I found a paragraph about setting a manual unlock code. It said it was important, so I did it.”
Megan laughed. “Those locks have two codes. The manual entry code allows you to open the door once. The manual unlock code unlocks the bolt and leaves it unlocked.”
“Well, anyway, he wasn’t a SACOM thug. He was a crook.”
Megan stopped short and spun toward him. “What?”
Nolan turned around and walked back to her. “He was there to rob me.”
“He wasn’t from SACOM?” she asked.
“I don’t think SACOM has added armed robbery to their methods.”
Megan laughed. “A common thief? Someone should write a book about the crap that has happened to you over the past few months! Come on, I still need to gather my things. Where are we going after that?” she asked.
“I think we should get two rooms in the hotel at Dawson spaceport. That way, we’ll be close to the Griffin if we need to leave,” he said.
“If we might need to leave in a hurry, we should just stay on the Griffin,” she said.
“You wouldn’t mind?” he asked.
She smiled. “I kind of like it.”
“All right, we’ll stay on the Griffin. I need to rest, and then I have an important errand to run. Can you message Derick and ask him to set up a meeting with Ronnie Carr?”
Megan gave him a questioning look. “I suppose. What do you need to see her for?”
Nolan reached into his shirt and pulled a necklace out. He passed the chain over his head and handed it to Megan.
She held the beautiful silver script in her palm. “I understand. We need to get this to her, but you should be resting, and you shouldn’t be traveling all over Dawson where the wrong SACOM officer might see you. I can have Derick give this to Ronnie.”
Nolan shook his head. “No, I need to give it to her personally. She deserves better than getting that from a stranger.”
“I’ll contact Derick when we get back to the ship. You can rest, and then we’ll take care of this.”
“Thank you,” Nolan said.
She slipped the chain over his head and tucked it inside his shirt. “You should keep this until we see her.”
“Can you carry my suitcase? My ribs are killing me.”
* * * *
Captain Jiorgenson knocked on General Nelson’s door. A moment later, Major Anderson opened it enough to look out. “General Nelson is rather busy at the moment. Is there something I can do for you, Captain?”
Jiorgenson quickly put the envelope behind his back. “No… I’ll come back later.”
“Is that Captain Jiorgenson?” Nelson asked.
Anderson glanced at the captain’s name tag. “Yes, sir.”
“Let him in,” Nelson commanded.
“I think it would be better if I came back later,” Jiorgenson said.
“Oh hell, Niles, get in here!” the general yelled.
Jiorgenson rushed into the office, and the major closed the door behind him. “General, I have something important to discuss with you in private.”
“You can say anything in front of Major Anderson,” Nelson said.
Jiorgenson looked at the major, and then back to the general. “This really is a sensitive matter, General.”
“Son, I’m a busy man. If you have something to say, spit it out,” the general said.
With a glance at the major, Jiorgenson reluctantly passed the envelope to Nelson. “Take a look at these.”
The general took the envelope and opened it. Major Anderson moved around the desk and looked over the general’s shoulder. “I see components for a SACOM weapon prototype, and wreckage of a ship, or perhaps multiple ships.”
“Look closely at the markings on the hull sections,” Jiorgenson said.
The general examined the pictures closely. “Where did you get these?” he asked.
“May I have a closer look, sir?” Eric asked.
Nelson passed the pic
tures to the major.
“The wreckage was salvaged near the belt where the First Fleet was ambushed,” Niles said.
“These weapons were integrated into the Xetian ships,” Eric said.
“Yes. The man who gave me those pictures took them himself. He saw the wreckage up close. If you remember, several of the commanders from the First Fleet said the Xetians had weapons far more powerful than anything they were known to possess.”
“Someone inside SACOM armed the Xetians,” Eric said.
“So it would appear,” Nelson said. “Either someone wanted the plutonium for themselves, or they wanted the Xetians to get it.”
“I’ll bet it was Segal,” Eric said. “We know he was part of the conspiracy to steal the plutonium.”
“Segal was the commander of one of the cruisers that the Xetians destroyed. He was as surprised as anyone by the power of the Xetian weapons,” Nelson said.
“Who, then?” Jiorgenson asked.
“Captain, I think you’re the man to answer that question. Contact the Weapons Development Group and see what you can find out,” the general said.
“Well, sir, I would have to clear that with my supervisor, Vice Admiral Tompkins,” Jiorgenson said.
The general looked at him for a moment, and then said, “Captain, you’ve seen what’s going on around here.” He held up the pictures. “And you’ve seen these. I’m operating on orders from the senate to facilitate a change in leadership here. That includes Vice Admiral Tompkins.”
“Who else is being removed?” Niles asked.
“That’s not important right now, Captain,” Major Anderson said.
Jiorgenson looked at the major. “I think it is. General Nelson is asking me to conduct an investigation to assist you in your operation. I’m not going to be dragged into something without knowing who’s on the other side!”
Major Anderson opened his mouth to respond, but General Nelson raised a hand, stopping him. In a calm tone, the general said, “Captain Jiorgenson, I’m not asking you to be involved in our operation. In fact, I don’t want your help. I’m using a handpicked group of my own people. But this,” he held up the pictures again, “is directly related to your ongoing investigation into who was involved in stealing the plutonium and what they did with it.”
Jiorgenson took the pictures from the general and put them back into the envelope. “Yes, sir, I see your point. I’ll let you know what I find. If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I have work to do.”
General Nelson said, “Captain, do not draw attention to the fact that Vice Admiral Tompkins is missing.”
Jiorgenson paused, his hand on the doorknob. Without looking back, he said, “Of course.”
When the door closed, Eric said, “He knows too much.”
“Yes, that’s true, but it can’t be helped,” the general replied. “He’s already in deep by helping me get Nolan Peters out of here, and we need to know who armed the Xetians.”
“I still don’t like it. What if he says the wrong thing to someone?”
The general shook his head. “Relax, Eric. He’s not going to do anything stupid.”
“I think we should initiate our operation now,” Eric said. “Everything is in place and our people are ready.”
“I would agree with you, but now I want to find out who armed the Xetians. It could change everything. Let’s give Jiorgenson a little time,” Nelson said.
“But we’ve been planning this for weeks,” Eric objected.
“And we can wait a little longer.
Niles Jiorgenson rushed into his office and locked the door, and then pulled out his data unit as he sat at his desk. A quick search gave him the contact information for the Weapons Development Group. “Damn,” he muttered, “They’re on Halceon. I can’t go there today.” He checked the current time for that part of Halceon. “And it’s the middle of the night there.” Looking at the Halceon calendar, he tossed his data unit on the desk, leaned back in his chair, and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “And it’s the start of the weekend there. Damn it!”
After a moment, he leaned forward, grabbed his data unit, and checked the length of a day on Halceon. “Twenty-seven point three hours.” He looked at the clock. Doing some mental arithmetic, he then set an alarm on his data unit. Flipping back to the contact information, he said, “Captain Cynthia Kepler, I’m probably going to ruin your weekend.”
Chapter 21
Niles rolled over and fumbled for his data unit, which was blaring on the bedside table. Picking it up, he shaded his eyes against its flashing light. Silencing the alarm, he pushed back the covers and sat up before turning on a lamp. He again shaded his eyes and waited as they slowly adjusted before opening a secure comm link.
Cynthia Kepler was enjoying breakfast on her deck overlooking her water garden. Fish swam lazily in the cool water, occasionally sending out concentric ripples as they came to the surface to eat some small morsel. She was enjoying the peace and serenity of her first day off in months when her data unit chimed.
Picking it up, she saw that it was a secure comm link from a Captain Niles Jiorgenson of Central Command. She opened the link. “Captain, to what do I owe the honor of your contact on my day off?” she asked as she glared at the image of a man she’d never met before, sitting cross-legged on his bed. The window behind him was dark. “And it’s the middle of the night there.”
“I’m sorry, Captain, but this is most urgent. Are you alone?” Niles asked.
“I’m not in a secure location, but I am alone,” she said.
“I need information regarding some weapon prototypes we’ve found.”
Cynthia shook her head. “Weapon prototypes are classified. I cannot discuss any details of their design or operation with you.”
“I don’t want technical details, Captain. I need to know how SACOM weapon prototypes ended up on the Xetian ships that destroyed the First Fleet.”
Cynthia bobbled her data unit, nearly dropping it. “That’s impossible!”
“I’m sending you some pictures. Look at them and tell me it’s not possible,” he said.
A moment later, a series of pictures appeared, and she began scrolling through them.
“I don’t understand. These weapons were delivered to Space Station Twelve for field trials.”
“Who authorized the transfer?” Niles asked.
“First Admiral Bennett, of course. She’s the only one who can authorize the transfer of weapon prototypes,” Cynthia said.
“When did she send you the transfer authorization?”
“She didn’t. She came here personally to authorize the transfer.”
“Does she often do that?” Niles asked.
“I’ve been the commander here for more than thirteen years, and that was the first time I’d met her in person. The development was almost a month behind schedule, and she came here to chew me out. She told me to get those systems ready for field trials, even if I had to work my people around the clock, and get them to Twelve on schedule.”
“Did the first admiral have any other reason for visiting your facility?” he asked.
“None. She went straight from her transport to my office, ripped me a new one, and went right back to the transport.”
“Thank you, Captain. You’ve been extremely helpful. I’m sorry for interrupting your off-duty time,” Niles said.
“That’s all right, Captain. Oh, and by the way, nice underwear,” she said before closing the comm link.
Niles looked down at himself, and then quickly pulled the covers over his lap. Without bothering to check the local clock for Space Station Twelve, Niles pulled up the directory and opened a comm link to the station commander.
When the link opened, he said, “Lieutenant Commander Tarlek, I need some information.”
* * * *
Lance Nelson rolled over, turned on a light, and picked up his data unit. Opening the comm link, he said, “Captain Jiorgenson, I assume you have something extremely urgent
to be calling me at this hour.”
“Yes, General. According to the head of Weapons Development, Captain Cynthia Kepler, those weapon prototypes were transferred to Space Station Twelve for field trials. First Admiral Bennett went to Halceon in person to authorize the transfer,” Niles said.
“So there wouldn’t be a comm link record,” the general said.
“It gets worse, sir. I contacted the commander of Space Station Twelve, Lieutenant Commander Ryan Tarlek. He took command of Twelve a few weeks before the First Fleet was attacked. He has no personal knowledge of the weapons, and there are no official records of them arriving or leaving Twelve. However, he said his people in the cargo handling section talk about a shipment of weapons that arrived and then left two days later on a commercial freighter.”
“Who was in command of Twelve before him?” Nelson asked.
“A Captain William Firth. I tried to look at his personnel record, but it’s locked.”
“With all the talk about those weapons leaving on a commercial freighter, does anyone know the name of the ship?” Nelson asked.
“On his third day in command of Space Station Twelve, the lieutenant commander found a handwritten letter taped to the underside of his desk. It was signed by Captain Firth. It said he had been ordered by Bennett to transfer weapons to a commercial freighter called Caroline’s Dream. It detailed the ensuing argument between himself and Bennett. Firth concluded the letter saying he feared for his life.”
“Did he tell anyone else about the letter?” Nelson asked.
“No, sir. He wasn't sure who he could trust. He was reluctant to tell me, at first. I promised him we wouldn't connect him with the information.”
“Thank you, Captain. I’ll see what I can find out about Captain Firth. You track down Caroline’s Dream,” Nelson said.
Before Niles could reply, the link closed. He placed the data unit on the table, pulled up the covers, and went back to sleep.
