Hart Of Vengeance

by Gregory Sanders

  They both heard footsteps and turned to see a pair of guards approach the cell. One of the guards pulled out a tablet and began reading. "Prisoner #19386-R, Ridgeway, Zachary, you are to hereby be transferred into the custody of the Rylan Protectorate for sentencing in the case of two thousand five hundred seventeen counts of first-degree murder of the Protectorate citizens on board the Rylan Starburst." The guard put the tablet away. "Prisoner, approach the cell door and place your arms through the slot." Ridgeway did as commanded, and the guard handcuffed him.

  "I'll leave here and start tracking down Baxby," Bridger told Ridgeway as the guards opened the cell door and began escorting him down the hallway.

  "Hurry," Ridgeway shouted over his shoulder. "I'm not sure what speed the wheels of justice turn in the Protectorate, and I don't want to find out!"

  The guards walked Ridgeway from the prisoner holding area to the secure landing area used for the transfer of prisoners. There was a transport ship sitting on the landing pad, waiting to take him to the Rylan Protectorate. They approached a member of the transport ship's crew that was standing by the loading ramp.

  "Prisoner #19386-R is ready for transport," the guard with the tablet informed the crewman and handled him the tablet. "I just need your acknowledgment that he is now in your custody for transport."

  The man looked at Ridgeway, then at the picture on the tablet to confirm his identity. He then typed a code into the tablet and handed it back. "I acknowledge that Prisoner #19386-R, Zachary Ridgeway, is now in custody of the transport ship Battleaxe."

  The crewman walked up the loading ramp and the two guards and Ridgeway followed. They stopped in front of a prisoner containment cell. The crewman entered a code on the containment cell and the door slid open. One of the guards drew his sidearm and pointed it at Ridgeway, while the other guard removed his handcuffs.

  "Step in," the crewman ordered.

  Ridgeway entered the cell, and the door slid shut behind him. Ridgeway had seen one of these cells before. The Dauntless had two of them on board in case there was a need to secure a combative subject. They were completely independent of the ship, having their own power supply and life support. They could be lowered to the surface of a planet while the ship was still airborne in case there was no landing site available. They were also used to transfer a prisoner between ships in space without the need for the ships to dock with each other.

  The comms speaker crackled. "The next time that door opens, you'll be staring at a Protectorate guard," the crewman informed him with a smirk. "I'm only sorry we don't get the privilege of venting you out an airlock." There was a click from the speaker ending the taunt.

  Ridgeway dropped down on his knees beside the bunk that was made into the side of the cell wall. He clasped his hands together and bowed his head.

  "Creator, you know that I am innocent. I don't know who wants to make me suffer so much for causing this horrible accident. I already bear the weight of those souls that I carelessly extinguished, but you know that I didn't mean to. If you can find it in your heart, please spare me. I will spend the rest of my life serving the cause of justice. I will put the honor of others before my own." He finished his prayer and climbed into the bunk and closed his eyes.

  ***

  The more No'tok learned about Gaelon, the more he admired the Valuvian that pulled the strings of the entire Legion. He is a thinker, that much is certain. He has contingency plans for his contingency plans. No'tok looked through the window of the shuttle he was on. He noticed by the perceived movement of the stars that they were traveling at a slow rate of speed. It may be all this little craft is capable of. The man piloting the craft had been quiet the entire trip from Zophitan to wherever it was that they were going. No'tok had been in hiding on Zophitan since he abandoned the Drah'jik. That seems like such a long time ago.

  After No'tok had signaled his need to escape the Dominion, the Legion had sent a cargo freighter to pick him and his shuttle up. The freighter took him to Zophitan, and the commanding officer of the freighter had introduced him to a Terran family that he would be staying with. Though they were Terran, they held no allegiance to the Commonwealth. The male, Franklin, was born in the Protectorate. He was the third generation of his family to have been born as a Protectorate citizen. His wife, Teresa, was a second generation citizen. They were loyal to the Legion and had asked no questions concerning who he was, how he was affiliated to the Legion, or why he needed to stay with them.

  Now, Franklin was piloting the ship that was taking him to his unknown destination. No'tok didn't like surprises. They can get you killed. He trusted Gaelon to honor their agreement but didn't like being in the dark about his future, especially the immediate future. He thought perhaps Franklin might know something since he at least knew what their destination was. "I don't suppose you could share where we are going?"

  Franklin turned to face the V'drellian passenger. "Yes, we are going to the dark side of the third moon."

  "Why are we going there?" No'tok thought he would press the conversation since Franklin appeared willing to talk.

  "I am going there because I have instructions to deliver you to there," Franklin answered matter-of-factly. "Why you are going there, I do not know, nor do I need to."

  "What is on the dark side of the moon?" No'tok inquired.

  Franklin smiled. "Honestly? I have no clue. I was given a set of coordinates, and told that I would receive further instructions upon our arrival."

  This information didn't make No'tok feel any easier. If Franklin didn't know what their ultimate destination was, he certainly wouldn't know the reason for bringing No'tok there. I suppose I will find out when we get there.

  No'tok could see the third moon getting larger as they approached it. Franklin adjusted his heading to being circling the large, barren moon. A short while later, Franklin brought the craft to a stop.

  "We're here," he informed his passenger.

  "What now?" No'tok asked.

  The light from the star that Zophitan orbited around was completely obstructed by the moon, and he couldn't see anything but a few distant stars to his right and looming blackness to his left. Before the pilot could answer, their craft shuddered and felt like it was being pulled by some yet unknown force. In the distance in front of the ship a bright light appeared. As they were pulled closer to the light, it became apparent that it was an open hangar bay on a camouflaged ship. The force pulled them into the hangar bay and lowered the ship to the deck.

  "I guess this is the answer to your question," Franklin said to No'tok.

  They could see various races of individuals milling about on the deck, but all were in the same type of uniform. No'tok was puzzled. He assumed this was a Protectorate ship, the variety of race on board would reinforce that, but the uniforms didn't look like any Protectorate uniform in the V'drellian fleet database. As he looked about, he noticed a middle-aged V'drellian man in a V'drellian Fleet uniform making his way across the deck headed in the direction of their ship. Another V'drellian? I'll wager you have the answers to my questions.

  "Open the door," No'tok ordered Franklin. "I want to speak that man."

  "You sure?" Franklin questioned. "I still haven't received any further word as to what we are supposed to do."

  That is why you are a shuttle pilot. You can't think for yourself. No'tok gritted his teeth. "I said, open the door. Now!"

  Franklin shrugged and pushed a button on the console. The rear door of the shuttlecraft opened, and No'tok stepped out into the hangar bay. Franklin hesitantly followed him. The V'drellian man noticed No'tok's exit from the ship and waved to him. As he approached No'tok, he offered a salute.

  "Admiral No'tok, I am Commander Gar'loz, the First Officer," the V'drellian man introduced himself. He was somewhat younger than No'tok but not as young as most of the personnel that No'tok could see in the hangar bay. Gar'loz was tall and slim, almost to the point of looking like he was starved. His face was very angular, and his turquoise hair wa
s starting to recede. "Welcome aboard the Rosh'ka, or as the others on board call it, the Nightfury." He then addressed Franklin. "Thank you for bringing the Admiral to us. You may return home now." The Terran man wasted no time in returning to his ship and piloting out of the ship hangar deck and back into space.

  "I am No'tok, but I am not an Admiral," he corrected Gar'loz after Franklin had left. "I doubt I hold any rank at this point."

  "Perhaps not in the V'drellian Imperial Fleet, Admiral, but this ship belongs to the Legion," Gar'loz politely corrected. "Here you are an Admiral, appointed by the Triumvirate. This ship and all that serve on it are yours to command."

  Well now Gaelon, I guess you did fulfill your promise to make me a key player in your plan. No'tok smiled. "I am honored to serve the Legion, and hope to earn the loyalty of those aboard." The words were polite but hollow. He would command this ship with absolute authority regardless of what those below him thought.

  "If you will come with me, Admiral, I'll take you to your quarters so you can freshen up and put on your uniform before meeting the rest of your bridge crew," Gar'loz said with a motioning of his hand toward the door on the other side of the hangar bay.

  No'tok followed Gar'loz across the hangar bay and into the corridor beyond the door. They walked a short distance down the corridor before reaching the ship's primary lift that took them up several decks where they exited.

  "This deck houses the officer's quarters," Gar'loz informed him as they walked the length of the corridor. "Your quarters are at this end of the corridor next to the ship's secondary lift. My quarters are across the corridor if you need me for any reason. This secondary lift allows direct access to the bridge, engineering, officer's quarters, and weapons sections of the ship. Security clearance is required to use access it. It allows the senior staff easier travel between critical sections of the ship without using the primary lift which can be accessed on any deck, except the bridge."

  Gar'loz stopped in front of the last door on the left side of the corridor. He touched his hand to the console plate on the wall beside the door. The door slid open revealing a spacious living area. Gar'loz motioned for No'tok to enter and followed behind him.

  "You will find your uniform in the closet across from your bed," Gar'loz informed him. He walked over to the interior door console and entered a command. "Admiral, please place your hand on the console. I need to activate your security clearances for the ship." No'tok joined him beside the door and placed his hand on the panel. It flashed blue three times then emitted a single beep.

  "Very good," Gar'loz said with a nod. "You now have full authority over all systems on the ship. I will await you on the bridge when you are ready. Take the secondary lift to the bridge deck, which is the uppermost level. The lift opens directly to the bridge, and you will be announced as soon as you exit the lift." Gar'loz saluted again. "It is an honor to serve with such a hero of the Legion. I hope I will not be a disappointment to you, Admiral." After No'tok returned the salute, Gar'loz exited the room closing the door behind him.

  No'tok took a moment to look over his new quarters. It was a palace compared to the utilitarian quarters he had before on the Drah'jik. He smiled. Yes, this will do quite nicely. Gaelon, you are a man of your word. He opened the closet and found several uniforms. An Imperial Fleet uniform? How odd. Of course, Gar'loz was wearing one too. Maybe everyone wears the uniform of their respective race? He dismissed the thought. Those were things to ponder some other time. He put on the uniform and inspected his image in the mirror. Satisfied with his appearance, he left his quarters and walked to the lift. He placed his hand on the lift console panel, and the door opened almost immediately. He stepped into the lift and pressed the top button for the bridge. The doors closed and he could feel the lift rapidly traveling to his destination.

  The doors opened and he stepped onto the bridge. It was a bright, well-designed space. The various ship departments were represented by an officer's station. He glanced around quickly and had a startling revelation. All of the bridge officers are V'drellian! I wonder what the reasoning behind that is? His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of one of the officers.

  "Admiral on the bridge!" The officer announced, snapping to attention and saluting. The rest of the bridge crew followed his actions.

  "As you were," No'tok replied, returning the salute. The crew went back to their duties, and Gar'loz joined him.

  "Welcome to your bridge, Admiral," Gar'loz greeted his commanding officer.

  "Commander, perhaps you can answer a question for me," No'tok inquired "Why are all of the bridge officers V'drellian? I noticed the hangar bay crew, and others I saw as we walked through the ship, were made up of several races."

  "I do not know," admitted Gar'loz. "I assumed that you would know. I also do not know why all V'drellians must wear Imperial Fleet uniforms while the rest of the crew have a standard uniform issued by the Legion."

  "Yes, I noticed that as well," No'tok said, then smiled. "A question for another day, perhaps?"

  "For now, we know that it is the Triumvirate's wish and that must suffice." The first officer then changed the subject. "Would you like for me to introduce you to your senior officers?"

  Gar'loz walked toward the communication officer's station. The officer was seated, a comms link in his ear, and appeared to be focusing on something he was listening to. "This is..." The communication officer held up his left hand to silence Gar'loz and put his right hand to his earpiece.

  "Understood," the communication officer spoke aloud responding to the voice on the other side of the signal. "I'll inform the Admiral immediately. Nightfury out." He then turned in he chair to face No'tok and Gar'loz. "I didn't mean to be rude, sirs, but I was receiving a message from a member of the Triumvirate. We have orders to travel at maximum speed to a location inside the Commonwealth. There will be a small convoy of ships leaving Mars on route to Rylos. A Rylan destroyer, a Commonwealth transport ship, and a Commonwealth light cruiser. We are to destroy the transport and damage the other two enough to immobilize them. We are to use the camouflage system to make them believe a V'drellian ships have attacked them. Then return here to the base. I've sent the coordinates to Navigation."

  "How long will it take to get there at maximum speed?" No'tok inquired.

  "Approximately two-thirds of a Morgal rotation, sir," replied the navigation officer. No'tok looked slightly confused.

  "The Legion fleet takes its time from Morgal, Kamseth's home planet. In V'drellian time that would be roughly half a sun," clarified Gar'loz.

  No'tok jaw tensed at having to be tutored by his first officer, especially in front of his bridge officers. The tension went away quickly though. I can't know everything about this ship the first day, but I will have a conversation with him about not making his commanding officer look stupid in front of his crew. No'tok faced the navigation officer. "Set your course, maximum speed."

  "Yes, sir," replied the officer.

  "Have you engaged in combat with this ship, Gar'loz?" No'tok inquired of his first officer.

  "No, sir," came the reply. "This will be the first for the ship and this crew."

  "Good," No'tok responded with a smile. "Nothing will get your heart racing like the act of sending someone to meet Th'warzin."

  ***

  Detective Sandra Peterson hated working suicides. She was a religious person, and the act of taking one's own life went against everything that The Creator expected from people. She had been taught in church that it was 'unforgivable' because you were dead and couldn't ask the Creator to forgive you. Though after three years as a detective, she felt her hatred for self-murder stemmed less from religion and more from the gut-wrenching family notifications she had been required to make. You can't offer comfort to those families. You can't tell them how hard you will work to get justice for them. You can't give them a reason. You can't give them someone to blame. You just tell them that their family member is gone and that you are sorry for their loss, and lea
ve.

  The building manager had stopped by the deceased's apartment to perform a monthly test of the smoke detector and had found the body of Simon Baxby on his couch. He called emergency services, and after determining that Baxby was dead, they had informed the capitol police.

  She was holding the suicide note in her gloved hand, reading its contents. "Poor guy. Lost his wife last week," she mumbled to herself.

  "You say something?" Detective Darren Chen asked. She and Chen had been partners since she made detective. He was good at his job, albeit a bit bookish about it. He was highly intelligent and could find patterns and details where others, including Peterson, often missed them. Peterson preferred a more hands-on approach. She liked to interrogate suspects and race into danger. Their Sargent often said they made a perfect team, brains and brawn. Although both Peterson and Chen believed there to be a hidden insult in the statement.

  "No," she replied back. "Just talking to myself."

  "Just don't start replying to yourself, Peterson," Chen chuckled. "I think we've got a good thing going, so I don't need them dragging you off to the padded rooms. Besides, I'd hate to have to break in another partner."

  "Yeah, I'd hate to inconvenience you like that," she retorted. Her gaze returned to the suicide note in her hand.

  "This is the third suicide this week," Chen said, noticing the note his partner was holding. "Are both the moons full? Seems like double full moons always brings out the crazies and the suicides."

  One of the patrol officers called out to them. "Detectives, there is a fleet officer at the door. He's looking for Baxby. Says it involved the Ridgeway trial."

  The two detectives walked toward the doorway. An older man in a dress fleet uniform was standing just outside the entrance to the apartment.

  "And you are?" Chen asked the officer.

  "Lieutenant Commander Walter Bridger," the officer replied, "Office of Fleet Justice."