Solfleet: The Call of Duty

by Smith, Glenn

  Krieger turned and left the room without another word, and the oversized MP sergeant stepped back inside and closed the door.

  “Wait here, he says,” Hansen muttered under his breath. “Like I have a choice.”

  Chapter 70

  Agent Krieger paused outside the door, feeling very pleased with himself, and shook his fist in triumph. Vice-Admiral Hansen had more years in law enforcement and Intelligence than he had in life itself. He hadn’t expected to get anything useful out of him at all, let alone get it so easily. But the methods he’d employed—the methods his instructors at the C.I.D. Academy had taught him—had worked beautifully. The admiral had waived his rights and had ended up doing exactly what he’d described. He’d handed Royer over to him on a silver platter with his knife sticking out of her back.

  He had her.

  He walked the short distance down the hall to the first door on his left and stepped back into interview room number one with newfound confidence.

  The room was identical to the one Admiral Hansen was occupying in every way but one. Instead of having its back to the door, the chair with the prisoner restraints had been installed at the far end of the table, facing it. Back in the C.I.D. Academy Krieger had learned all about how an interview room’s design could affect on an interviewee. About how the arrangement of the furniture, or even the lack thereof, could make a difference in the failure or success of an interrogation. He’d put Commander Royer in Interview-1 to make her feel surrounded and cornered. To make her feel like there was no way out of her predicament except through total cooperation. She could see the door, her only escape route, right in front of her, but she couldn’t get past the guards to reach it.

  At least he hoped she couldn’t get past the guards. She’d already shown how volatile she could be back in Hansen’s office, but per the supervising agent’s instructions—that brownnoser was always sucking up to the brass—she hadn’t been strapped into her chair. A big mistake, in Krieger’s opinion.

  The guards, the same two MPs who’d dragged Royer’s wife in for questioning—they’d roughed her up a little in the process, too, which wasn’t exactly going to be conducive to gaining Royer’s cooperation if she happened to find out about it—started to leave as he entered, but he raised a hand to stop them and closed the door behind him.

  “What are you doing back in here, Krieger?” Royer asked him, spitting his name out as though it were poison on her tongue. “I already told you I want an attorney.”

  “I know what you told me, Commander,” he responded as he sat in the chair to her right. “I just thought I’d give you one more chance to change your mind and come clean before I classify you as uncooperative in my report.”

  “I am clean.”

  “Yeah, so you’ve told me. But Admiral Hansen and I just had a nice long conversation, and he tells me otherwise.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Ignoring her vulgarity, he further explained, “He told me all about what the two of you did six and a half years ago. He gave me a full confession, Commander.”

  Royer snickered. She knew better than that. Hansen had a lifetime of training under his belt. Krieger could interrogate him for a month and he still wouldn’t talk. Besides, the Portal’s existence was classified, so he couldn’t have confessed even if he’d wanted to.

  “You, Mister Krieger, are a liar,” she said, wearing a defiant grin. “Even if the admiral were the type to stab his people in the back, which he isn’t, we didn’t do anything wrong for him to confess to.”

  “Oh. I see.” He leaned slightly forward and rested his elbows on the arms of his chair, folded his hands together, and asked, “So, you and Admiral Hansen didn’t head up a project to produce thousands of cyberclones, then send them into combat against the Veshtonn as soon as they were ready?”

  Royer looked him right in the eye and asked, “What’s a cyberclone?”

  Krieger sat back in his chair again and snickered. “That’s very funny, Commander. The other inmates are going to love you. But we don’t have to talk about that now. If you prefer, we can start by talking about Professor Min’para’s murder.”

  Royer’s defiant smile quickly faded. “What the hell are you talking about, Krieger? Who’s Professor Min’para?”

  “Don’t even try it, Commander,” he said, shaking his head. “Admiral Hansen just gave you up like a bad habit. He told me all about how you tried to convince him to authorize the use of deadly force against the professor. He also told me that he refused to do it, which puts the responsibility for the professor’s murder squarely on your shoulders. Even as we speak, the Military Police are on their way to pick up the only surviving member of the team that carried out that assassination for you.” He knew that last part was a gamble—the only surviving member of the team hadn’t actually been at the Federation Building where the murder occurred—but the potential payoff, a full confession from Royer, was worth the risk. “Now, I haven’t met Agent Kaminski yet, but I’d be willing to bet that his testimony given in exchange for immunity from prosecution will back up what Hansen told me. What do you think, Commander?”

  Her jaw clenched tight and her teeth ground together as she drew a deep, deep breath, filling her lungs as her growing anger colored her face a warm blush red. “I think you’re one sorry son of a bitch, Krieger.”

  “I take it you finally realize where you stand.”

  “I’ll show you where I stand,” she muttered under her breath.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She glared at him for a moment with murder in her eyes, then suddenly yelled at the top of her lungs, “That back-stabbing son of a bitch!”

  She leapt to her feet with the final syllable and let go a blood-curdling scream as she charged at Krieger, who reacted a second too late, and knocked him to the floor. She made a break for the door, but the MPs were on her the next instant and wrestled her hard to the floor.

  “Get your fucking hands off me!” she screamed. She lashed out, twisting and turning, punching and kicking like a wild animal fighting for its life, as if she’d gone completely insane. She clawed their faces, pulled their hair, tugged at their uniforms and equipment—whatever it took to get them off of her—but in the end her violent struggle was all for naught. Despite her adrenalin-enhanced strength, the MPs managed to flip her onto her stomach, pin her down, and cuff her hands behind her back.

  When she finally stopped struggling they lifted her to her feet, led her by the arms past Krieger as he stood back up, and strapped her into her chair.

  Krieger stared at her as he brushed himself off. Her platinum hair had been pulled free of whatever had been holding it in place and had fallen in disarray around her shoulders. Tears stained her cheeks. Blood seeped from her left nostril and the corner of her mouth. Her left sleeve was torn at the shoulder seem and the front of her blouse had been ripped wide open, several of its buttons having been pulled off. Every few seconds a drop of blood fell from her chin to her chest and trickled down between her breasts, which rose and fell with her heavy breathing, only to be absorbed into the fabric of her bright white bra.

  The MPs weren’t in much better shape themselves.

  “That was really stupid, Commander,” he finally said. “It’s all over for you now. I hope you realize that.”

  “Help me out of this, Krieger,” she half-pleaded, half-demanded between labored breaths, still more angry than frightened. “Or give me a way to help myself.”

  “Now you want to help yourself?” he asked as he returned to his seat, genuinely surprised by the sudden change.

  She bowed her head for a moment. Two more drops of blood dripped onto her chest and trickled down to join the growing bright red stain in the center of her bra. Then she looked back up and said, “Better late than never.”

  “Agreed, but how do I know you’ll tell me the whole truth?”

  “I have a wife to think about.”

  Krieger harrumphed. “You should have thought abo
ut her a minute ago.”

  “I was thinking about her a minute ago. That’s why I lost it.” When Krieger didn’t respond to that she added, “Come on, Krieger. I’m reaching out to you here.”

  He thought about it for a moment, then said, “All right, Commander. Waive your rights to remain silent and talk to an attorney first. I’ll hear you out.”

  “Consider them waived.”

  Krieger turned to the MPs. “Close her blouse. Then call and have a medic sent up here. I want all three of you looked over.”

  “Yes, sir,” the blond MP answered. She used a couple of her hairpins to close Royer’s blouse as best she could, then headed for the door.

  Krieger watched her leave, then turned back to Royer. “So you want to help yourself. All right, Commander. Let’s start with Min’para’s murder. When did you...”

  “You’re mistaken, Mister Krieger,” she interrupted. “His death wasn’t murder. I admit I authorized the use of deadly force, but...”

  “Against Admiral Hansen’s orders?” he asked, wanting solid clarification on that point.

  “Yes, but only if it proved absolutely necessary. My orders were to bring him in alive and unharmed if possible. He must have fired first or my people...”

  “He didn’t fire first, Commander,” Krieger told her, his impatient tone conveying that he knew that to be an solid fact. “He wasn’t even armed. But let’s put that on hold for now. I want to look at your reasons for wanting him out of the way in the first place. There were those cyberclones of yours, of course, but they weren’t the only thing he’d discovered, were they?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Where is Dylan Graves?”

  Royer was taken aback. How could he... Of course. Graves had told Min’para about his mission to rescue the Crown Prince of the Cirran Republics, and about the nightmares he’d suffered from afterwards. That had to be it. But had he violated his word to the admiral and told the professor everything? Had he violated his oath and disclosed the existence of the Portal? If he had, then she’d only be hurting herself...and Karen...by keeping quiet about it now. And for no good reason. Karen had to come first.

  “How will answering that question help me?” she asked.

  “I can’t promise you anything, Commander,” he told her honestly. “I don’t have that kind of authority. Answering that question might help you a lot, or it might only help you a little bit. Then again, it might not help you at all. But I guarantee you this. Refusing to answer it will hurt you. I’ll make sure of that. So what will it be?”

  What indeed? What should she do? She needed time to think. She needed time to weigh her options. No promises, he’d said. Not even an ‘I’ll-put-in-a-good-word-for-you,-if...’ She’d sworn an oath to protect and defend the Earth and her colonies, and protecting their secrets was part of that oath. Therefore, no promises...no deal.

  “Go to hell, Krieger.”

  Krieger stood up. “Suit yourself, Commander.” He went to the door and opened it, and stepped aside as the blond MP came stepped back inside.

  “A medic will be here in a few minutes,” she reported.

  “All right. Thank you,” Krieger acknowledged. Then, as he stepped into the corridor, he said, “I hope you enjoy your confinement, Royer. It’s going to last a very long time.”

  “All right, Krieger!” she hollered. She hated to give up. She hated to lose, but Karen needed her. She was more important than anything else.

  Krieger stopped and turned an ear slightly toward her, but didn’t turn around. “All right what, Commander?” he asked.

  “You want to know where Dylan Graves is? Fine. You’ve got the proper clearance level, so I’ll tell you where he is. But the MPs will have to leave the room first.”

  Now Krieger did turn around. “No more bullshit?”

  “No more bullshit.”

  He stepped back in. “Ladies, if you please.” The MPs exchanged uncertain glances, then looked at him, questioning him with their eyes. “It’s all right,” he told them. “She’s handcuffed and strapped in. She can’t do anything.”

  They exchanged glances once more, then walked out into the corridor and took up a new post just outside the door. Krieger closed it behind them.

  “All right, Commander,” he said as he returned to his chair. “So where is Dylan Graves?”

  She hesitated, knowing that once she started talking—once she began divulging classified information—there would be no stopping. No turning back. She’d be committed to that path. But she knew also that she had to do it, for Karen’s sake. Besides, he might not have had a need to know—then again, maybe he did at this point—but as a C.I.D. agent, he did have a Top Secret clearance. She needed only to tell him, “This is classified Top Secret, Mister Krieger.”

  “Understood,” he assured her.

  “All right then. Dylan Graves is at an outpost called X-Ray One, on a top secret planet we’ve code-named ‘Window World,’” she began. “Admiral Hansen sent him there in direct violation of the president’s orders. He’s on an unsanctioned, illegal mission to travel back in time through an ancient Tor’Roshan Portal the crew of the Australia discovered there a few decades ago. His objective is to alter certain specific events in our history in order to change our present circumstances.”

  For a moment Krieger just stared at her, expressionless. Was she serious? Did she really expect him to believe that? He couldn’t help himself. He had to ask. “Did you actually just tell me that Lieutenant Dylan Graves is on a time-travel mission?”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “Of course I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s the truth,” she said with a shrug.

  He stood up again, shaking his head. “You promised me no more bullshit, Commander. And now you feed me what’s probably the biggest pile of...”

  “Tell the president,” she said.

  “Excuse me?”

  She stared him right in the eye. “Tell President Shakhar what I just told you.”

  “You want me to call the President of the United Earth Federation and start spouting off at the mouth with some fairy tale about...”

  “All right!” Royer shouted. “All right, Krieger. If you won’t go to the president, then go to Chairman MacLeod. Ask him to tell her. Tell him I said we have an agent on Window World waiting to go through the Portal. Tell him Commander Akagi held him up—that he wouldn’t let him go through until he got confirmation of his orders from Central Command. And tell him that while I was being arrested I managed to send that confirmation to him from the comm-panel in Admiral Hansen’s office. Or don’t tell him. The choice is yours, as will be the consequences.”

  She was lying. She had to be lying. Time-travel was the stuff of science-fiction and abstract theoretical physics. It sure as hell wasn’t possible in the real world. But no matter how deeply he stared into her desperate, angry eyes, he could find no sign of the deceit that he knew had to be in there.

  He sat back down anyway...again. After all, it wouldn’t hurt to hear her out. The only thing he stood to lose was a few more minutes of his time.

  “Assuming for the moment that what you say is true, why would you tell me about it behind the admiral’s back? After all the years you two have served together I have to believe your loyalty to him runs deeper than that.”

  “My loyalty to him?” she asked with irony. “Didn’t you just tell me that he gave me up like a bad habit?”

  “So you’re doing it for revenge?”

  “I’m doing it for my wife,” she said somberly. “She needs me to be with her.”

  “Oh, I see. So you’re hoping to avoid a prison sentence.”

  “Exactly.”

  Krieger almost laughed. The chances of Royer and her wife ever being together again after today were miniscule at best. But of course he couldn’t tell her that. Instead he said, “And if staying out of prison means stabbing Admiral Hansen in the back the same way he stabbed you in the back, then so be it.�
�

  “Then so be it,” she echoed in confirmation.

  “Makes perfect sense to me. Except for one minor little detail.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “I don’t believe a word of your story.”

  Royer shrugged. “That’s okay with me. But if I were you, Mister Krieger, I’d make sure my story reaches the president’s ears anyway.”

  “Fine,” he said as he stood up again. “I’ll see to it she hears your story. But if you think that’ll get you released from custody, you’re sadly mistaken.”

  “We’ll see,” she told him as he turned and headed for the door.

  In the corridor, a medic was tending to the MPs. When he glanced into the room and saw Royer’s condition, he asked, “What the hell did you people do to her?”

  “She got belligerent,” Krieger answered as he walked by. “They had to subdue her.”

  “Looks like they beat the hell out of her,” he commented. “I can’t treat her thoroughly enough up here.”

  Krieger stopped dead in his tracks and asked, “Why not?”

  “Whoever called Medbay said there were three people with minor bumps and scrapes, so I only brought a first-aid kit with me.” He gestured toward Royer. “Look at her. She needs to be checked for broken bones and internal injuries.”

  Krieger sighed. “All right.” To the MPs he said, “Take her to Medbay.”

  “No problem, sir,” the stockier of the two women responded as she turned and walked eagerly into the room.

  “I’ll meet you there, and make it quick,” the medic said. Then he followed Krieger down the hall.

  The MPs approached Royer from both sides. As they unfastened the heavy straps that held her in the chair, the stocky one said, “Any funny business, Commander, and we’ll throw you into the wall the way we did your wife.”

  “Ronnie!” the blond complained.

  “What about my wife?” Royer asked angrily, glaring up at the ugly cow.