by Don Foxe
The rifle passed over the shadow like a limbo stick. The slender waif of mist rising, thrusting a stick of its own into the third guard’s ribs. The electric shock glowed and blistered the darkness, slamming the big body against the side of the van. The rifle flew into the bushes, a reflex from the delivery of high voltage. The man fell forward, leaving a large dent in the sheet metal, shaking uncontrollably as he spasmed on the ground.
The short person pushing the grav-sled stood statue-still during the short, intense confrontation. They remained locked in place, while the van driver helping load the sled jumped from inside the vehicle to land on the exposed back of the vapor spirit.
The effort gained him a full-body flip, ending with a body-slam onto the pavement. As the groan escaped, it became augmented by the rattle of teeth and an attempt to scream, choked off in shear pain. The electric stun rod applied once more. Rosz added his own groan when he noticed the tip of the rod came away from the driver’s groin.
The last man raised his hands and dropped onto both knees.
“She’s good.”
Rosz and Ishihara Kaito jerked at the voice. Mesmerized by the battle, neither moved to help, or noticed as someone walked up behind them.
Chaspi, dressed in bad-ass BDUs held Billy by her side. Still understandably groggy, but coming around. Or, perhaps, realizing who picked him up and held him, decided to squeeze a bit more time out of the assistance before a full recovery.
“That’s Stacey?” Rosz asked, unable to contain the surprise. “Where did you come from? Where did she learn how to fight like that? How come she moves like she isn’t there?”
Chaspi handed Billy off to Ishihara before answering.
“That’s Stacey, and she is Fellen. They all know how to fight. She’s wearing a special suit designed for Space Fleet Marines by Dr. Trent. It doesn’t actually make you invisible, like Coop’s, but in this light, it comes close. And we came from Fin Island, and I got to pilot a Wraith.”
“Where is Captain Cooper?” Sensei asked.
“We scanned the research building and area as we landed,” she said. “Besides the guards hauling Col. Barnwell away, the top two floors showed another dozen heat signatures. Coop sent Stacey to help you, and he went into the building to, and I quote, ‘clear your six.’”
The Bosine co-ed looked back toward the research center. The quiet facade masking the mayhem occurring behind closed doors.
“Not sure what ‘clear your six’ means, but I don’t think anyone will be coming from that building to interfere.” She turned back to the guys. “I’m the designated back up and supposed to keep the Wraith ready in case you needed her. When I realized Billy was hurt, I had to help.”
“Captain Cooper placed a lot of faith in the two of you,” Ishihara said.
“They deserved it.”
“Damn,” Rosz said. “Is everyone going to scare the crap out of me tonight?”
“Sorry, Rosz,” Coop said, materializing next to the small gathering. “Let’s see what Stacey caught.”
Coop quickly got his answer.
“Dr. Reinhardt,” he said, recognizing the man on his knees. “You okay, Stacey?”
“Yep.”
An audible gulp came from Rosz, echoed by the revived Billy.
Stacey, now visible in the skintight, form-fitted METS unknowingly started her own fan club. Sorry Sky, and sorry, Storm but a new Fellen just shot to number one.
“Col. Barnwell is breathing, and his heart rate is low, but steady,” the blue girl told him. “I believe he is sedated, but unharmed.”
Coop went to his old friend’s side. “Back from the dead, Tab. Couldn’t have happened to a better person.” He turned to the quivering psychiatrist-slash-geneticist. “You will pay a heavy price, Doctor. This goes beyond evil.”
“I have rights, Captain Cooper,” the man said, a bit more bluster than brains. “I’m a Space Fleet contractor. I have legal rights, and I can explain myself, but only to Space Fleet or UEC authorities.”
“Sensei Kaito, I apologize for my rudeness,” Coop turned from Reinhardt to the Japanese master. A sudden change in attitude. “Stacey and Chaspi told me what you did for all of them. I am in your debt for protecting my friends. And for removing the danger from the front of the building. I passed your work on my way inside.”
“My honor,” the smaller man replied. “And my pleasure.”
“I ask one more favor, Sensei-san. Please escort Col. Barnwell and these four to my ship.”
“An easy favor,” the man answered, adding a small bow.
“Chaspi, fly Tab to Fin Island. Stacey, stay with him. If he wakes up he will be upset. It may take your strength to keep him strapped in until he realizes he’s safe.
“There is not a lot of room in the Wraith. I am afraid Rosz and Billy will need to ride back to Toronto with Sensei Kaito. Billy, you think you can make the trip?”
“Of course, Captain Cooper.” Billy’s first words since becoming not unconscious. Waking to find Chaspi holding him, followed by Stacey in the skintight suit, and meeting the famous Captain Daniel Cooper left him wordless until directly addressed.
“And you?” Stacey asked.
“I am going to have a private conversation with Dr. Reinhardt. Following that, I believe a trip a few miles south to clean out a nest of vipers may be in order. I’ll contact Nathan in a few hours. When Reinhardt’s fellow conspirators learn about Tab’s rescue, we will only have a short amount of time to round them up before they disappear.”
“What about my rights?” Reinhardt asked, following Coop’s conversation with unease.
“I am no longer an officer with Star Fleet,” he told Reinhardt. “I don’t think I’m actually considered alive, and I don’t give a damn about your rights, Doctor.” He physically lifted the frightened man from his knees with one hand.
“If you tell me everything I need to know, and you do it without any bullshit, you get to live,” Coop said, his voice calm, his tone reasonable. “I believe the young people need to leave. They don’t need to see what will happen otherwise.”
CHAPTER 21
Security delivered Pam and Sam to Cassel’s Office. He sat at his desk, immersed in his computer screen. His fingers would dance over the desk top, stop, and dance again. He communicated with someone at a frantic pace.
He looked up, pointed at the coffee-tea service on a side desk, and returned to his screen.
They helped themselves and settled into chairs while Cassel continued his conversation.
Both heads turned as the door opened and Board of Governors Chairman Guy Arcand entered. He went directly for the coffee then, cup in one hand, pulled a third chair over to join them.
“Admiral. Mr. Patterson. I’m sure you have a thousand questions,” he said. “If you can wait just a few more minutes, when Director Cassel is finished, we will begin answering those questions.”
He took a sip of coffee before continuing.
“The most important thing is Col. Barnwell has been rescued.”
“You have Tab?” Pam asked.
“He’s on Fin Island. The medical staff there is as good as it gets, as you well know.”
“Coop?” she asked, realizing if the UEC knew Tab had been taken to Fin Island, they knew who else was there.
Noticing Cassel lean back in his chair, Arcand asked, “Director, would you care to answer the Coop question?”
“Cooper is fine,” Paris said. “Some of that back and forth on the computer was with him. It’s old-fashioned, so less likely monitored,” explaining the use of screen and keys. “But you need a bit of background first.”
He rolled his executive chair around the desk to join the others.
“Governor Arcand moved up to the Board of Governors from his position representing the Can-Am alliance on the UEC. Even though Can-Am is responsible for creating the UEC, he has always been vocal about concerns that centralized control for all world matters did not sit easily with him.”
“
Something I still have reservation about,” Arcand interjected.
“He was approached by Saleh Abd al-Rashid, the Saudi Region’s UEC representative, to join a group of powerful and influential people who wanted the Council disbanded. This group wanted regional rule restored,” Cassel said.
“Recruited as the face of change,” Arcand added. “They would back me, make sure I was appointed to the Board of Governors, and that I became Chairman. From my position I would be able to keep an eye on all UEC actions, and I could voice my concerns about the UEC overreaching its mandates. When the UEC fell apart, I would be given North America.”
“Given North America?” Sam asked.
“Named Prime Minister without an election and without interference,” Arcand answered. “They called their group the Camarilla Dissolvere. It consists of politicians, business leaders, scientists, media, and military bigwigs. People with personal agendas best realized if the UEC did not control things worldwide.”
“They wanted the UEC and military forces out of the way,” Cassel said.
“Something I do not believe,” Arcand added. “I do have concerns about centralizing the governing of a planet of diverse people, and the history of such institutions becoming mired in bureaucracy. It does not mean I do not want the core principles, and the potential the UEC represents.”
“Your goal was to provide a watchdog against repeating earlier mistakes,” Pam said. “The Camarilla misread your intentions.”
“I went to Paris, told him what I knew. We decided I would go along with the plot while Paris worked to discover names. If we arrested Saleh, or the few I knew or suspected worked with him, others would continue to worm their way into positions where they could still create havoc.”
“Tab caught wind of the conspiracy. He began looking into it, totally separate from anything I was doing,” Cassel explained. “I did not see his unofficial investigation as a threat. The people operating the Camarilla obviously thought otherwise. I knew he did not commit suicide, but I did not know they held him prisoner.”
“When I started investigating Tab’s suicide again, you had to shut me down before I stumbled onto Chairman Arcand as one of the conspirators,” Pam said.
“The London Bank is their financial site,” Sam interjected. “You’re monitoring transactions and money movement to collect contact names.”
“Yes and yes,” Paris answered. “The group was on the verge of making the final push to dissolve the Council. You two would have been eliminated simply by posing a potential threat. That’s why I brought you in. Guy told them I worked for him and we would remove you before you caused a problem.”
“And now?” Pam asked.
“Cooper, with the help of a few highly unusual operators, rescued Tab. He used Dr. Herman Reinhardt, a Camarilla member, to gain entrance to the group’s main operation headquarters in the old NASA propulsion facilities in Mississippi. I ordered a team to sweep the facilities, but Coop already eliminated any threat. They found Reinhardt and the Camarilla’s top computer expert bound and a bit bruised.
“He convinced the computer guy, Iranian named Hamed Attaran, to forward unencrypted files to me. With those files, what we already knew, and anything Tab can add, we will shut the entire conspiracy down.”
“They dispatched alerts before Cooper penetrated the central command area,” Arcand told Pam and Sam. “Rats are scurrying all around the planet. Paris’s people are tracking or trying to find every person listed in those files. The Board of Governors will order the military to collect and deposit them in holding cells prepared in Texas.”
“We have three major problems,” Cassel admitted. “One of the main conspirators is Benny Claflin, and he’s the Chief of Security on the Mars Shipyard and Docks. We have to assume the entire security team on MSD is loyal to him.”
“A Space Ranger?” Sam’s disbelief evident in his tone. “Why would a Space Ranger be part of this?”
“Money, power, long-term security, and a life of luxury,” Paris answered. “From what I picked out in the data dump, Claflin and Saleh’s father sowed the seeds for the Camarilla just after the Space Ranger Project failed. Pam and I first met when the UEC called on the Ranger Project survivors to prevent a nuclear catastrophe in Iran. During the mission a rogue Space Ranger, Rolf Berkel, killed another Ranger, Alessandra Campos. Berkel was hired to collect and deliver nuclear missiles hidden inside an old military facility to Claflin. Claflin would transport them to Afzal. Berkel never got the missiles out. No one ever knew about Claflin.”
“Nuclear missiles?” Sam asked.
“Afzal planned on forcing the UEC to either disband, or release the Saudi region from control. When that plan fell apart, be began developing a long-term program of misinformation and inserting people who agreed with him into UEC positions. He died ten years ago, and his son, al-Rashin kept the ball rolling,” Paris explained.
“Does he know the group is compromised?” Pam asked.
“I don’t know for sure,” Paris replied. “I can’t contact people on MSD I trust because he controls security. I’m going to send an agent I’ve kept undercover in Space Fleet to contain the danger Claflin poses.”
Pam sat up straight, spilling the last of her tea in the process. “You have a secret agent inside Space Fleet! Who?”
“Amanda Black.”
“You are shitting me,” Pam exclaimed. “Captain Black who screwed up during the Star Gazer battle and got kicked back to the Navy.”
“Amanda screwed up because she was never prepared to command a battleship in that situation,” Paris said. “We never expected her to actually captain a ship. By freezing when she exited into a full-out space battle, and the result costing hundreds of lives, tore her up.”
He looked Patterson directly in the eyes, and told her, “I put Black in that position, and I put her back in when you were removed. For a long time we thought Singletary played a part in the conspiracy. I created a legend for Black that put her in line for command of the PT-99 and get her close to Singletary. She’s been sleeping with him to get intel.”
“And?”
“Singletary is a prick and a narcissist, but not the mole in Space Fleet,” the Director of Security told her. “That is our other major problem. Admiral Stephen Hawks is a leader within the Camarilla, and he is currently in command of a CVBG, and on his way to Aster System and a meeting with the Prophet.”
“Does he know he’s blown?” she asked.
“No, and that I am sure of. The only one who might be able to get a message to him would be Claflin, which is why we need to get to him as quickly as possible.”
“There are good, loyal officers out there with Hawks,” Patterson said. “Why not send a message to them and put Hawks in chains?”
“Two reasons. We cannot be sure if Hawks has his own people in places such as communications. I know I would if I were him. And because Same Harrington was recruited by the Camarilla.”
“Another Space Ranger,” Sam exclaimed.
“I don’t believe it,” his wife added. “Sam is as good a man as I have ever known or served with. Why would he want to destroy the UEC, and Space Fleet with it?”
“Short answer is disillusionment,” Paris replied. “He was married with a couple of young kids when accepted into the Project. They grew old, and he didn’t. His wife committed suicide. His children can’t handle growing older while their father remains young. They don’t allow him to see his grandchildren. Claflin and Harrington go back to before the Project. Claflin picked his time and recruited Sam when he was hurt, angry, and blaming the UEC for taking away his life.”
“But would he or Hawks endanger themselves and the other ships if they find out the conspiracy failed?” Sam Patterson asked.
“We don’t know, and we can’t afford to find out too late,” Arcand answered. “Space Fleet is infested with bigots and incompetents. That’s why tomorrow I’m reinstating Pam Patterson as Fleet Admiral.”
Flustered, if not flabberga
sted, Pam stood.
“What about Singletary?”
“He’s a politician, and, actually, a damn good administrator,” Arcand said. “I’ll explain how he goes along or gets courtmartialed for sleeping with a subordinate officer, incompetency, and a dozen more charges. He stays an Admiral in charge of administrative duty departments. You command everything else, and he answers to you. Singletary isn’t your problem. You have to figure out what to do about a Carrier Battle Group sailing into dangerous space with a pair of dangerous, potentially insane officers in command. Welcome back, Admiral Patterson.”
Fin Island
“Welcome back,” Mara said, greeting Coop as he entered the front door.
“Sorry about the stolen transport on your front lawn,” he said, accepting and returning a hug. “Seems Elliott’s front yard has become a landing pad lately.”
“No problem. Do I need to get it secretly returned somewhere?”
“Took it from the bad guys at the propulsion center,” he explained. “I don’t think anyone is going to look for it or expect it back. Donate it to the local tribe. How’s Tab?”
“He’s in the room next to yours. Go see.”
Titus Andronicus Barnwell, Junior sat upright in the king-sized bed, pillows propping him. Pads of paper and three data-pads spread out on the bed around him. His dark black skin a bit less dark, his face more narrow, but his eyes and smile the same Coop last saw more than six years ago.
“Coop,” he cried. “I’d get up and hug you, buddy, but Mara said she’d kick my black ass.”
Cooper took a seat on the side of the bed, leaning over for a bro-hug that sent pads sliding across the covers.
“I know it’s a stupid question, but are you okay?”
“Still a bit screwed up in the head,” Tab admitted. “They kept me drugged. My regeneration systems worked overtime to clean me out, and Reinhardt constantly shot sedatives in me to keep me submissive. When Mara told me six years had passed, I nearly crapped. The doctor here says I should be physically restored in a couple of days. Trent has a Swiss specialist flying in to make sure my brain still works right. I’m catching up on everything in the meantime, writing down anything and everything I can remember.”
