“Save it, I know,” replied Dan, rising with him, following him into the kitchen. He held his empty mug out for a refill. “Hit me.” He sighed, pensively, “I have access to a little place...”
“No,” Chase interrupted, holding up his hand, “don't want to know. We'll get you moving in the right direction though.”
“Thanks.”
“Those guys are gonna figure out pretty soon you're not home,” said Chase, pouring.
Dan shook his head, no. “I set timers on the lights, stereo and TV at the condo so I'm hoping it'll be a couple days until those guys catch on. My laptop's in my bag and I took a hammer to my smart phone. I hated to do it, it was only a couple months old...”
“Yep, but they can track it even with the GPS off, by the cell towers it touches. Triangulation. Even if you're not on a call.”
“Yep,” nodded Dan. “I bought a couple of those simple prepaid phones at a mini mart this week, so I still have communications, but I'll be going through a lot of those...”
“Hold on,” countered Chase, does your laptop have wifi?”
“Sure.”
“Check this out,” waved Chase, heading to his office. Dropping into his chair he plugged a blank USB drive into his desktop computer. He took a couple of minutes, copying a program to it, unplugged it and handing it to Dan when it was complete. “Here. All you have to do is plug it in to your laptop and start the program. You can use VOIP,” Voice Over Internet Protocol, “or you can plug your cell phone into the laptop with its USB charging cable, and the software will control the phone.”
“OK...” said Dan, not sure where it was all going.
Chase pointed at the software on the screen, “It's called Ghost. It's an anti-tracing software. If you're using the VOIP function, it will hide the real IP address, and ping a fake IP address at random, from another country... the service provider can't even tell.”
“That's pretty cool... And the cell phone?”
Chase grinned like the Cheshire cat, clicking a button on the software, “Choose cell communication, and in this data window here,” he pointed, “you can leave it blank or you can type in any number you want, and that's what it will show on the other end. Watch this...” He plugged his cell phone into the computer and entered a number on the software he knew by heart, then dialed his home number on the cell phone. When the land-line rang, the display showed the number and info; FBI - Tampa Office.
“Shit, that's sweet,” mused Dan. “What about the triangulation issue?”
“The signal is coded, telling the towers that it's a secret, encrypted transmission, so they withhold the information and don't log it, pass it on or record it. The signal is also bounced randomly, en-route, so it can't be backtracked.”
“I can't thank you enough, Brother.”
“No sweat, just keep your head down. Let's get some rest, we'll find you a ride out of town in the morning...”
CHAPTER THIRTY
REVENGE, ZENDER'S TREK : SNIPE HUNT
The members of the small, seriously understaffed crew of the Revenge were taking turns getting a bit of shuteye, but it's new Lieutenant Commander pro tem was having a little difficulty adjusting to the weight of his new position. He wasn't so concerned about keeping the rank... Well OK, maybe a little. But he was most concerned about bringing the Revenge and his crew safely back in one piece. Hmm, his crew, that was the first time he'd thought of it like that. Up until now his responsibilities were limited to a fighter where he was solely responsible for himself. Maybe a Zulu with a three man crew. But this was considerably different. Twenty-odd souls. Fully staffed, there would be somewhere in the neighborhood of sixty.
Lieutenant Commander Brian Carter sat on the sofa in the Captain's ready room with his feet on an ottoman, staring at the glowing holo-chart suspended over the table. Notes hovered where they'd jumped into Zender's Trek and their discovery of the abandoned ore freighter. Without shields, the stern had been pretty shot up, her port engine dangling off its twisted mounts, holes through her hull from Jack's single strafing run. Honestly, it hadn't been hard tracking her once the sensors picked up the debris and vapor trails. Unfortunately there was no time to board and inspect her to see if there was any salvageable intel. Instead they thoroughly holed her to prevent her recovery and waste any chance of the pirates using her for anything other than scrap metal value. He was sorry to have to pass on the opportunity, but there were more critical mission goals to attend to.
Lisa's dog, Gus, lay curled up next to him on the couch and he stroked the animal's ears absentmindedly as he gazed at the chart. To the Revenge's advanced sensors, there was a quickly dissipating but still trackable energy trail leaving the ore freighter, headed toward the gate for the Balyenne System. Whether there was any deviation in that route, they'd never know, because that wasn't on the mission's to-do list. The thought had crossed his mind to chase it down anyway, to see what might be in Balyenne, but the scope of this recon mission was time sensitive and the luxury of exploration wasn't in the cards.
Brian leaned back and closed his eyes, hoping to catnap, even though he suspected it wasn't likely. He needed to at least try.
GOD jumping from the location of the abandoned freighter across Zender's Trek to the gate for Cariloon, saved them several hours in travel time, and it was immediately apparent how useful the drive could be for more than just system leaps. The gate travel to the Cariloon System was uneventful, but immediately upon exiting the gate, it was obvious to the ship's sensors that there had been considerable activity in the system, even though there were no ships in reach of their sweep.
It was impossible to determine from the energy trails how many ships had actually passed through the system, but it was clear they were all headed to the gate to Velora Prime, and that gave Brian an evil chill. For all intents and purposes they were alone, undermanned, behind enemy lines. Having been a FreeRanger ship, the Revenge still had the communication codes and was broadcasting a FreeRanger ident ping, hoping to travel unchallenged.
“Commander to the bridge, Commander to the bridge, we have contact!”
Brian bounced up off the sofa, blinking away the stars of the sudden altitude change and the mist of sleep. Had he actually been asleep? He couldn't be sure. Trotting out onto the bridge, Gus on his heels, the door slid closed behind him with a hiss.
“What do we have?” he asked, dropping into the command chair, flicking on the screens in front of him.
“Two enemy ships entering the gate to Velora Prime,” replied Raulya, looking back over her shoulder, “about five minutes apart.”
“Type?”
“I was unable to ID the one that entered first; the remaining one is a light destroyer.”
“If you had to guess on the first ship?”
“Another destroyer, or possibly a frigate.”
Whether they had noticed the Revenge or not, they gave no indication, and made no attempt to communicate. “Mr. Tusker,” ordered Brian, “send this communication to the task force... Pirate force sighted in Cariloon, unable to determine overall number or strength. Two destroyers entering gate to Velora Prime. Sensor readings in system indicate substantial activity. Balance of force estimated to be in transit ahead of visible assets. End. Send it with the protocol outlined by Commander Smiley.”
“Aye, sir. The Morse Code protocol...” He began typing in the coded message.
“We are following them in, sir..?” asked Ragnaar, more a statement than a question.
“Correct, Lieutenant. According to my readings we have an eight-hour ride to the gate at present speed. As soon as that ship clears the transition,” he pointed at the images on the big screen; “initiate a GOD jump to the gate.”
“That will put us about thirty minutes behind them...”
“Perfect.”
Tusker looked over his shoulder, “Sir, task force reply. Message received. Continue observation...”
“Understood. Mister Ragnaar, prepare us for a jump to the gate's
coordinates...”
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
VELORA PRIME : UNIVERSAL PARALLELS
There hadn't been much left of Sy Setzel, except a naked mass of red, bloody mush, beaten and stomped to death. The miners had continued to beat and stomp his naked form long after he was dead, exhausting themselves, venting their frustration and hatred. Nobody could fault them for that. Left exposed, miners and family would pass the spectacle as they continued to exit the mine, spitting or kicking dirt on what was left, cursing the remains to an eternity of damnation. Nobody could fault them for that either.
The medical tents stayed fairly busy and a steady stream of locals came and went, picking up family and friends released from the mine. Contact with the Army engineer detachment at Mine 01, reflected much of the same kind of activity. The medical team had split up, the Army shuttle pilot running medical supplies and personnel to the other location.
The Marines had done a thorough search of Mine 02's offices and culled a fair amount of useable intel, leaving little behind. Rather than travel all the way to Mine 01, Steele sent a request with the shuttle pilot, that the team there, do the same with the offices at their location. Whether the information gathered there would be the same or not, was anybody's guess. But Jack's team had done as much as they could do, and he was itching to get back to the Freedom. But he wasn't going anywhere without picking up Fritz from the ASP first.
Sunlight sliced through the port-side view ports of the Invader, playing across the small passenger compartment. Corporal Dunnom leaned forward in his seat to look past Lisa sitting between them, “Skipper?” He passed an active e-Pad to Jack.
“Watcha got?” Steele asked, taking it.
“One of the files recovered from the mine office... See if we're on the same wavelength...”
Laying it across his thigh, Jack paged through spreadsheet type file. “Hmm,” he frowned, his lips pursing. “Looks like a personnel ledger, but not for the mine...”
Shoulder to shoulder with her brother, Lisa examined it too. “Looks like it has addresses and contact information...” she pointed, “are those nicknames?”
“I'm thinking they're code names,” volunteered Dunnom.
Jack nodding in agreement. “This looks like a list of agents living here on Veloria...”
“Look there” pointed Lisa.
“Yep, they even have some listed as dead or missing.” He looked over at Dunnom, “How many are on the list?”
“A little over five-hundred. It shows that about twenty-percent of them are dead or missing...”
Steele let out a low whistle. “Holy crap, that still leaves about four-hundred of them running around loose.”
“And I think that's only half of them,” continued Dunnom. “The list shows that Mine 02 is their main contact... Mine 01 may have its own list.”
Steele sat back in his seat. “This was quite a concerted effort to destabilize this planet and its government... could it all have been just for the mines..?” He wasn't really asking the question, wasn't expecting an answer, he was just astonished and wondering out loud. Could the resources be that valuable?
“Sir,” said the Corporal accepting the e-Pad back, “I had a chance to chat with a couple of the miners in the medical tent and a few of the locals... they were mining for tyrillium and vanadium, which I found out is a rather unique combination and a windfall discovery...”
“Enlighten me, Dunnom.”
“Both of those materials are used in the alloy needed for ship building, and are rarely found together on the same planet, much less in the same mine. And even more rarely in fairly equal proportions, like it is here. In the volume available on this planet, it's considerably more valuable than pure gold. This whole thing, it's just about greed...”
“It usually is,” replied Steele, flatly.
It seemed that Veloria was a very wealthy planet when it came to raw resources. And the only ones who knew its true extent were the mine owners and the surveyors. In his desperation to pump finances into the struggling Velorian economy King Leõn took the word of the mining surveyors on the contract value and sold the mineral rights for a mere pittance of their real value. He had not known the independent surveyors were actually spies for the mining consortium, and he was ill-informed about mineral values in general. He unwittingly sold his people into a hostile planetary takeover.
Steele was reasonably sure, that the UFW would not uphold a land lease or mining agreement of any kind, in light of the events on this planet. If they did, it would mean the UFW Directorate was in serious need of cleansing. He hoped that wasn't the case.
“On final approach for ASP, Skipper,” called Maria from the cockpit, “down in five...”
Lost in his thoughts, Steele didn't answer. If this was truly a list of all the covert operatives on the planet, it would be a huge asset to help ferret out these people and either take them out, or throw them off the planet. Considering what they were guilty of, he figured a little Wild-West diplomacy would go a long way to solving the issue... A tall tree and a short rope. Of course the real possibility was, there might not be that many of these folks left around... who sticks around after the job is finished? He couldn't stop thinking about the guy in the crowd at the palace that Alité had the run-in with. Was he on that list? Or just a dissident who'd foolishly joined the cause?
Jack was anticipating an exodus of people off the planet, covert agents, dissidents maybe, when the first trade ships started showing up... Because someone getting cut in two... that event was going to get around. And nobody would want to be that guy.
Jack would do his best to give Boney, the Prime Minister, all the information, facts and deductions he had, hoping the soldiers at Mine 01 would have something to add as well. Then it would be up to Boney to handle the rest, Jack wanted out of it, he'd had enough. This planet was like a money-pit, except with tragedy, greed and misery. Unfortunately, he had the distinct feeling, that, like it or not, even after washing his hands of the whole mess, he was going to be involuntarily pulled back in at some point. How could he not? He was married to the Queen.
■ ■ ■
The captured Gogol pilot was an odd looking fellow, with a sallow, greenish hue to his thin, smooth skin, veins visible beneath the surface. He was a pleasant enough person, polite, soft spoken, and they had decided to call him Greg. His real name was unpronounceable, at least by Jack, who figured he needed a second tongue and the ability to gargle while speaking, to even attempt to articulate it. Despite his mixed human-saurian-like appearance, his most unusual feature was his legs, which bent at the knees in the opposite direction of human legs. Flashing back to the odd ejection seat Steele found in the forest, it explained a lot.
Standing in a corridor in the underground labyrinth that was the base below the ASP, Jack Steele, the Prime Minister and Peacekeeper Lieutenant, Ean Marboul, compared notes on their e-Pads. Jack closed the interrogation room door behind them so they could speak privately in the hall.
“He's a shrewd businessman, Jack,” said Boney, “he knows how to negotiate...”
“He's a mercenary,” countered Steele, “he has to be a businessman or he doesn't get paid. I trust him about as far as I can throw him.”
“Maybe I should have a little private talk with him...”
Steele shot the Lieutenant a glance, then smirked slyly back at Boney, “Yeah, I heard about your last little chat... that doesn't work with everybody, y'know. This guy's a professional, let's treat him like one and see where it gets us. Let him think we might give him what he wants, if he gives us the information.”
“You're not going to give him what he wants...”
“No, of course not. But he can't know that... We have to make him believe we might, it's the carrot on a stick...”
“The what..?”
“Never mind...”
“He is on the list you gave us, Captain,” pointed the Lieutenant, indicating the e-Pad.
“I know,” replied Jack, “but that
just tells us the list is what we thought it was, and validates our suspicions - every single name on that list is an enemy and needs to be hunted down, as soon as possible.”
“I still think you should let me interrogate...”
Steele shook his head, cutting the Prime Minister off with an evil grin, “Something tells me you enjoyed that way too much...” He shifted the sling on his arm; the bone-healing stimulators were making his arm tingle. “Don't worry,” he waved, “you'll have other opportunities... our list is going to provide you plenty of chances for a repeat performance.”
“Agreed...” nodded the Prime Minister sedately, smoothing his suit.
Having settled on a course of action for the interrogation, Boney and the Lieutenant hung back after reentering the room, leaning against the back wall, arms crossed, letting Jack take the lead on the negotiation.
Thankfully the base commander had decided on leaving the investigation and actions of the Peacemakers up to the new Velorian government, choosing not to involve the UFW in anything other than a support and supply position. Though he was not clear on Jack Steele's involvement... being a UFW Space Services Captain. Then again he wasn't sure he wanted to know the details either. Plausible deniability.
Jack stood opposite the Gogol pilot, the stainless-steel table separating them, the green man leaning comfortably back, his legs folded strangely back on either side of the chair, straddling it like a horse. The water glass sitting before him was half-full and Steele wondered if the man considered it half-full or half-empty. “Greg...”
His wide eyes blinked, a translucent, inner eyelid wiping his eyes. “Mr. Steele,” he affirmed. “Have you an offer for me?” he asked politely.
“Look, Greg,” began Steele, unmoved, “I think you have information we want, and I realize you're a business man, so I'm sure we can come to something mutually beneficial to all of us...”
Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2) Page 46
