Other clues can be found in dress, accessories, and sometimes wealth. The most identifiable factor to a security specialist is attitude. It’s difficult to explain, but one knows it when one encounters it.
I did my absolute best to relax. I tried to clear my mind of thoughts on what was to come. I’d never been much for holo-cast programs, but any distraction would’ve been appreciated.
I never considered myself a coward, but I was getting mighty anxious. I’d made a choice. Inspired by confusion, desperation, and spurred on by hatred of a yellow tie and the man behind it, I was about to follow the narrow path my choice at pretrial had forged. Maybe I wouldn’t even make it to Io. I felt like a hapless guppy riding the currents in a piranha-filled river. Even if I made it to the end, all that awaited me there was a steep waterfall. One which fell upon jagged rocks, certain to ensure a tragic end. Sleep would have been nice.
“Specialist Keesay, your message.”
Startled, I looked in the direction of Agent Vingee’s voice. I stared at her blankly. “Sorry.”
She smiled. “I brought your message. Captain Hollaway told you about it? From Mr. Guymin.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
She handed me a computer clip. “Just tap the flashing red icon. I’ll be outside.”
“No. That’s Okay,” I said. “The captain said it was short.” Agent Vingee was still wearing her gray uniform, but had added a matching jacket. I spotted a bulge underneath, an MP pistol. “Expecting trouble?”
“No.” She smiled and stepped back from the bed.
I tapped the icon, hoping the message was indeed short. I lacked the strength to hold the clip long and I didn’t dare rest it on my chest. Agent Vingee’s hand appeared and steadied the clip.
The screen filled with what must have been the bridge of Loams’s yacht. I spotted him moving in the background as Caylar spoke. “Greetings, Specialist Keesay. My apologies for abandoning you but circumstances require it. I am traveling with Special Agent Loams to what remains of the Iron Armadillo. Available evidence indicates all crew and passengers were lost. As Diplomat Silvre’s personal assistant, I must be sure. I leave you in the capable hands of Captain Hollaway and his crew. They will get you to Io as Director Simms intended.” He paused. “We have faith that those who sacrificed will be vindicated. Agent Loams assured me of that. If you survive.” Caylar ran his hand across his chin. “You really have, guts. Good luck.” In the background Mr. Loams nodded in agreement as the entry ended.
Vingee took the computer clip. “Would you like it replayed?”
“No, no thank you. Just erase it.” I thought a moment while she tapped at the screen. “Mr. Loams was a mole?”
“Apparently,” she responded.
“Did you know of him?” I asked.
“No, my area isn’t corporate espionage. I specialize in records and information.”
“Can you use that firearm under your jacket?”
“I am very proficient,” she said, somewhat offended.
“Of course you can. In the back of my mind I guess I was hoping you couldn’t.”
Agent Vingee glared at me. Her head tipped and her jaw clenched.
“It seems,” I said, “that a number of people don’t want me to make it to Io, and get hooked up to the Cranaltar. As it gets closer, I’m tending more and more to side with them, but for different reasons.”
Anger and contempt spread rampant across Agent Vingee’s face. Even with my less than stellar vision, I viewed it more plainly than a local sun gone supernova.
“Oh, don’t worry,” I explained. “I have no intention other than to follow through.”
She just looked down at me in disgust.
I was getting a bit angry. “You don’t seem to get it. I’m no coward. I’ve faced rioting mobs, but this is worse!” My throat burned as my voice rose. “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Than you’ve ever had to do. Have you faced death?” I didn’t wait for a response. “I don’t care if you have, this is worse. It isn’t like facing a firing squad or a lethal injection. I don’t even have a fighting chance.” My thoughts were all jumbled. I knew I wasn’t making sense. I felt my chest thumping.
I took several shallow breaths. Her hard face showed a small fracture. She shifted her stance, while I continued. “Do you know what the Cranaltar is? What it does? It won’t just kill me. It may not even kill me!” Breathing was harder. My chest was heavy.
Her eyes flashed to the monitors. I didn’t care. “Look at me!” I said. “I’m scared. You bet I am. That thing won’t kill me. It’ll take away who I am. It’ll grind up who I am like hamburger.”
Vingee called into her collar for Dr. Goldsen. I was sure the monitors had already done that. She looked back at me. Any accusation had abandoned on her face.
“They say I’ve committed appalling crimes, done terrible things. And I’ll never know!” I struggled for a labored breath. “I asked Dr. Goldsen to let me know. But even if she does, I won’t even...be.” I laid back and looked at the ceiling and fought the pain, realizing my own end.
The door opened and the captain rushed in followed by Dr. Goldsen. I looked at all three. “You don’t even know.”
Dr. Goldsen stood by the bed. She took my hand and held it a moment. “I know,” she assured me. She pointed to her head. “All we are is up here. You’re risking it. And you don’t know for who, or why.”
I slowly nodded. The pain had spiked and was receding.
“I am sorry for my failing,” said the doctor. “I know what it will do to you.”
“Son,” said the captain. “You’re a man of character. That’s evident. I wouldn’t just say that. Of course you didn’t do those things. I know it. Karlton Simms knew it. You know it too.”
I said to Vingee, “I never intended to back out.”
“You were right,” she whispered. “I didn’t understand. Not fully.”
The monitors fell silent. My chest lightened, although the throbbing in my head didn’t abate much. “That little episode probably whittled a week off of my life expectancy, Dr. Goldsen.” Then I asked Captain Hollaway, “When do we visit Io?”
“Shuttle’s ready,” he said. “As soon as you show up. Sorry, I won’t be able to accompany you. But these two ladies will escort you.”
“And two of your most violent marines, I’m told,” said Dr. Goldsen.
“Affirmative.”
“They’re welcome, of course,” I said. “But I’ve got Agent Vingee. If she’s half as good as Director Simms, they won’t be necessary.”
Vingee placed her right hand over her pistol and winked. “Time to go.” She moved behind the bed.
Dr. Goldsen prepared my bed for travel by making quick disconnections and reattachments.
Captain Hollaway spoke into his watch. “Fitch, Neville get in here.” Two fully armed marines entered. “Don’t worry, Specialist,” said the captain. “The Evanescent Thunder will keep her guns ready on your way down.”
“I suspect the Umbelgarri might have a few nasties ready,” I said, “for any inquisitive vessels in the area. Only for back up, of course.”
Captain Hollaway laughed but gently shook my hand. “Let’s be about it, marines,” he said. “The ever popular Falshire Hawks is waiting.”
“Yes, sir,” the marines said in unison, and led me out.
“Hawks is down there?” I asked.
“He is,” said Vingee.
“I bet he’ll be glad to see me.”
Vingee snorted a laugh. After that, everyone was silent on the way to the shuttle.
Patrol gunboats are less than ninety yards in length and we started amidship, moving aft. We spent half the travel time in the elevator. It took two trips to get everyone down to the shuttle bay.
The aging military ground assault shuttle sat ready to go. While the nose remained smooth and polished, the boxy body displayed multiple battle scars and patching. The interior had been prepared for my bed and needs. Dr. Goldsen looked ou
t of place in the military atmosphere, with laser carbines and armored vests secured to the walls.
Sergeant Fitch and the doctor spread a sturdy gauze netting over my legs and torso, leaving my head and arms free. They attached the netting to the bed. The locking mechanism’s clack signaled Neville had immobilized my bed.
Sergeant Fitch checked to see that everyone was properly strapped in their seat. “No grav plates in this old bird,” he remarked while tightening his own straps.
From his perch in the dorsal turret, the pulse laser gunner focused a roving eye on Agent Vingee, which she worked to ignore. I tapped Fitch and motioned, indicating the situation. The sergeant’s threatening glare encouraged the gunner to focus his attention elsewhere.
My mind wandered as we traveled to the Io Colony. What is it about tall women? I’d read about the economic success of a booming resort business. Some nameless entrepreneur had set up an orbiting space dock in the 70 Virginis system almost twelve years ago and named it the Celestial Unicorn Palace. Some men, enough men, have been willing to travel dozens of light years to vacation with seven foot blondes built like exotic dancers. Frequent holo-cast advertisements show dozens of enormous, voluptuous blondes chanting the slogan, ‘Come be a stallion on our range.’ Agent Vingee was attractive, but she wasn’t that tall or even blond. Maybe I’d travel out that way someday, if I ever won a share of the intra-colonial lottery.
We struck Io’s thin atmosphere. The jarring brought me back to reality, but I continued my wandering line of thought. That is, if I ever won the lottery and survived the next twenty hours. Both registered equivalent odds. Right, must be an I-Tech thing. No, that little adventure was pretty near the bottom of my list should I survive the Cranaltar. I’d never spoken with anyone who’d actually visited the Celestial Palace. My limited social circle? I’d have bet that old Falshire Hawks had spent a little time there.
“Ever been on Io?” I asked Agent Vingee.
“No. Is this your first time?”
“Yes. I hear it’s cold. Probably bad as Pluto or Charon. I was never out on the surface while assigned there. Even all geared up, still frigid. Is that correct Dr. Goldsen?”
“Well,” said the doctor, “the moon’s surface certainly is inhospitably cold without proper equipment. Except for the few volcanic hot spots, of course. But, in the few surface complexes and large underground areas, they have tapped into the thermal vents to supplement the heating. More energy efficient. The surface radiation from Jupiter is more dangerous than the cold.” She paused during a bit of turbulence. “The Umbelgarri colony on Io, near my lab, keeps it very warm. They have set up immense towers to generate electricity from Jupiter’s magnetic field.”
“You’ve been in there?” I asked. The Umbelgarri have always been very secretive. Isolationist in many ways. The amphibian aliens were rarely seen during the Silicate War. And since then almost never. Their crab-like thralls have always been more common, but still infrequently encountered. This line of conversation seemed to have caught everyone’s attention.
“I really cannot say much,” said Dr. Goldsen. “But from time to time it has been necessary to consult with them on the project. They are not exactly what you would expect.”
Dr. Goldsen’s statement ended the conversation. I guessed that everybody was content to ponder the mystery of the Umbelgarri until we landed. The touchdown was smooth and the landing pad immediately lowered the shuttle into the underground portion of the colony.
The marines checked their gear and became attentive to everything about them. Fitch assisted everyone in freeing themselves before removing my retaining net and releasing my bed. Agent Vingee spoke briefly with the pilot and then asked, “Ready?”
I nodded. The marines lowered the ramp and led the way. A number of shuttles and small interplanetary vessels sat silently in the cavernous hangar bay. My marine escorts’ boots echoed. The faint humming and calliope of other electronic support equipment provided the background music. One of the wheels on my bed had developed a squeak.
We exited the hangar and took several turns down long corridors. Each appeared similar to the previous. Numbers identifying location were carved into the gray stone walls. The tunneled complex and lighting reminded me more of an ancient earth cave than a modern space colony. The place seemed deserted. I guessed we were following an ancient lava tube. I wondered how they kept the complex intact with the gravitational forces of the nearby gas giant, Jupiter.
The marines escorted with automatic MP rifles held ready. Dr. Goldsen strove to keep pace. “Can we slow down just a little?” I asked.
Sergeant Fitch nodded and slowed our march. Soon we entered a large freight elevator.
“Normally,” said Dr. Goldsen, “we use electric carts to move about. But Captain Hollaway did not think it was wise. Not much further to my laboratory facilities.” She sounded a little winded, but more agitated by the silence. “This route is seldom used and more secure.”
About fifty paces from the elevator we came to a set of double doors guarded by two alert marines. They were almost as intimidating as Fitch and Neville. It was warm, but the two guards showed no discomfort.
With a nod the guards stepped aside and the steel doors slid open.
Dr. Goldsen’s laboratory facility was a stark contrast to the dark, endless corridors. It was large, two-tiered, with an arched ceiling. Lights and computers filled every nook and cranny. Some areas had been partitioned off, but for the most part it was open. At least two dozen men and women in white lab coats, with computer clips in hand, moved swiftly about. Several looked up to see who’d entered before refocusing on their assigned task. Specialized sound dampeners kept the noise level far lower than it would have been.
Dr. Goldsen directed Agent Vingee to wheel my bed into a small alcove. Even its walls were lined with computer hardware and other equipment. Fitch and Neville stood at attention just outside the small area while Vingee remained next to me. I felt the wooden carving under the blankets. I thought about giving it to Vingee. She could get it to Silvre’s family. What they might do with it was unknown. After reconsidering why the Umbelgarri representative gave it to me, I decided to try something else.
I was getting warm. “Agent Vingee, could you please fold down one of my blankets?”
She was observing the activity in the lab. “Sure.” She folded one down to the foot of the bed without disturbing my tubing or my bandaged leg.
Some people entered the lab that I recognized from my pretrial. An anxious looking Mr. Hawks was first. A new assistant wearing a matching yellow tie with more black in it than Loams’s followed him. Behind came the admiral, general, and CJO, followed by an older man with a thick gray mustache, an intelligence official. The last two were discussing some matter. I didn’t see an Umbelgarri representative.
“Do you know the intelligence man?”
“Yes,” said Agent Vingee. “Deputy Director Cavelvar. He doesn’t travel willingly or often.”
“An associate?”
“Hardly. He is number three.”
“And what are you ranked?” I asked.
“About forty-thousand.”
“Really? Did you actually look that up?”
“Recently?” she said. “Would you like an exact figure?”
“Do you have time?”
“Do you?”
“That depends,” I said. “But first I need to know something.”
She looked at me with head tilted and one eye squinted. “And what would that be?”
“How fast can you count?”
She suppressed a grin.
“I know, that was a little anemic,” I admitted. “But hey, I’m under a little pressure.”
Her mirth faded.
“Glad you didn’t have to use your pistol,” I said. “Of course, the evening is still young.”
“It’s midmorning on this region of Io,” she corrected.
“Thanks for the tip. And thanks for taking responsibility for Director
Simms’ semi-automatic antique.”
“No problem,” she said. “I cleaned it for you. But that’s okay, you’d had a long day.”
“It was night, but who’s watching the clock?”
She laughed. “I think you might’ve gotten a smile out of Sergeant Fitch.”
A quick glance and a wink from the marine indicated it was true.
“Sergeant Fitch,” I asked. “Did you see a representative of the Umbelgarri enter?”
“Affirmative,” he said quietly. “He was already here. Near the back of the lab.”
“Thank you,” I said. “And thank you, Special Agent Vingee. I wanted to sleep away my last hours. I am glad I didn’t.”
“Chin up, Security Specialist 4th Class Keesay. Remember, get through this and I’ll have a story for you.”
Dr. Goldsen and two assistants approached our alcove.
I sighed. “Looks like it’s about time.” I knew that if I survived, memory wouldn’t be my strong suit. But there was no sense rubbing that in. “Think I’ll get a chance to say anything to Hawks?”
“Possibly,” Vingee replied.
The two assistants started to move my bed.
“I know, you’re information and records, not legal affairs.” My wide smile increased the pain around my injured eye, but I held it.
She responded with a weak grin and concerned eyes.
All things considered, I was feeling pretty confident. For some reason, Hawks and his yellow tie inspired me.
The assistants wheeled me to a side area where a large lift that looked like a giant pancake flipper hung attached to the wall. Sergeant Fitch followed.
“We have to switch you to another platform,” apologized Dr. Goldsen. “It won’t be as comfortable, at first. It will undoubtedly hurt to be moved.”
“I think I’m beginning to form bed sores,” I said as I motioned for Dr. Goldsen. “Will that make a difference?”
When she stepped near me, I discretely handed her the little carving. “Would you pass this on to the Umbelgarri?” I whispered, “They can forward it to Diplomat Silvre’s family.”
Not looking at it, she slipped the bust into a lab coat pocket. “I’ll see what I can do about those bed sores after the procedure.”
Relic Tech (Crax War Chronicles) Page 6
