by Watson Davis
"Dorothea didn't do this." Edmund glared back at Gentili for support, but found none. "She would never do this. She's a damned good soldier."
Frankl tut-tutted, turning his back to the monitors, pursed his lips, and shook his head. "Hard to tell what someone who's been through the things she's been through at such an impressionable age are capable of doing."
"What is that?" Edmund asked.
Frankl arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"I requested more material about Dorothea's history, searched every bit of information in the HR database, but most of the data were denied to me, and even to Gus, I think," Edmund said. He gestured toward Frankl. "You seem to have the clearance for it, so what did she go through? What happened to her?"
"I really am not prepared nor willing to go over the details of my case files with outsiders." He wagged his forefinger from side to side. "But she is a complicated woman, your Dorothea. She had connections with a particular Family in the past, a very dangerous Family, and associations with political groups which are best left unnamed. I can't understand how we cleared her for hiring in the first place."
"I know my people." Edmund cracked his knuckles and turned to Gentili. "She would never do anything to sabotage the team. She could not kill Gus. Or try to murder me."
"It's interesting"—Frankl sat back on the HV console, crossing his legs at the ankle—“but it is a damning coincidence that two of her bombs targeted the only two computers running queries to investigate her background: Director Perisho's and yours."
"I don't understand." Edmund studied Frankl's face, and rubbed at his chin. When did I run a query investigating her background from my compartment?
"Dorothea placed four bombs." He waved his hand over the control panel, bringing up a holo of the station, the locations of the bombs flashing as the view rotated at his command. "There was a bomb hidden in Gus's suite, another in your compartment, a third in Santina Steger's room, and another in her own compartment, probably to cover up evidence. We do not know why she went after the Steger girl, unless she received directions from Unity to destroy our case against them, which seems likely. We are checking our research databases. Someone introduced a virus to erase the data we gathered from the child and from the zombies. Our backups should be safe, but we'll have to verify they haven't been corrupted."
"Well, I mean, that's just stupid." Edmund couldn't think of a more articulate way to put it. He turned back to Gentili so she could hear his side. "She couldn't have been after me. I mean… We were… um. And she'd never, ever do anything to hurt Santina. She loved Santina like a baby sister."
"No doubt she put up a great front." Frankl grinned from one ear to the other. "She would be a shitty spy if she wasn't able to convince a grunt like you otherwise."
Edmund fought the urge to punch Frankl's smug little face in, but Frankl raised his hand, touching his temple, his eyes unfocusing.
"Hmm." Frankl shook his head, twisting around to peer at Edmund with suspicion, his forehead wrinkling, lips pinched, eyes narrowing. "The virus may have been dropped in from your computer, Captain. Any idea how that might have happened? Has she ever had access to your computer?"
"I..." Edmund nodded. "She was on my computer once, logged in with my credentials, but—"
"Ouch." Frankl winced. "That's going to be hard to prove, but just so you know, I believe you. I don’t think you were part of her scheme, except as a pawn. I'll talk to my bosses and whatever oversight committees get involved to try to keep your name out of the muck, but you will be questioned."
Edmund said, "But—"
"Yes?" Frankl raised his hand once more, touching his temple, eyes losing their focus, smile spreading across his lips. "You have her? Excellent. Hold her until I can get down there." He smiled at Edmund. "We'll be able to ask her directly soon enough. My men have her in custody."
# # #
I lunged toward the man with the cuffs, striking his right wrist with my left palm, knocking the cuffs aside, then thrusting up with my right elbow, but he dodged back, twisting his neck, my elbow brushing his ear. I reversed my strike, using my forward momentum to stay in range, moving forward faster than he moved back and bringing my elbow down on the top of his head at his hairline, my right knee slamming against his ribs, the thin layer of nanosilk absorbing the worst of the blow.
He staggered, squeezing his eyes shut, holding his ribs with his left hand as he hit the paneled wall and tumbled to the walkway. The handcuffs clattered to the floor.
I planted my right foot on the floor, scraping it, sliding from the sweat and blood, spinning toward the other agent. He yanked a blaster from his shoulder holster with his right hand. Before he pointed the barrel at me, before he could aim, I jumped to meet him, my left hand on his right hand, keeping it from turning toward me.
The weapon discharged, the blast deafening in the confined hallway, the shot ripping a smoking gash in the wall, tearing a swath of molten destruction through the pipes and cables behind the panel. A jet of steam pumped into the hall.
I twisted at his wrist with my left hand, trying to force him to release the blaster, capitalizing on my grip to add speed to the swivel of my hips as I brought my right fist around to pummel the man's solar plexus through his armor. He pushed against me, employing his superior weight to drive me back against one of the unpaneled sections of the wall, his gun firing, blasting once more into the bank of fog now filling the passage.
The other man screamed, struck by one of those errant blasts.
I punched my opponent in the stomach, my knee hammering against his thighs; the edge of the panels pressed into my back, sending jolts of pain through my injured ribs, each breath a gasp. He bent me back, his left hand snaking up, his fingers wrapping around my neck. I ground my teeth together, tightening the muscles in my throat to keep from being choked. I reached down, my fingers finding the edge of one of the panel covers, one of the ones sitting on the ground, the corner of which was cutting into my leg.
"Yeah, you Special Ops fucks think you're so tough." He smiled. "You ain't so tough."
I grabbed the lip of the panel cover, relaxing my body, acting like I had passed the end of my strength, peering into his eyes, seeing the man think he had won. Then I swung the cover around, the edge knifing into him, cutting down his cheek to his chin, the cover sticking in the bone.
He stiffened, eyes opening with surprise, his hand releasing the blaster.
I shoved him off me and pulled the panel cover free, tugging at it to remove it from his skull, jerking his head to the right.
He fell to his knees, gasping, and I knocked him the rest of the way down, sitting on him with my knee between his armored shoulder blades, my foot on the deck by his hand, the edge of the cover resting on the back of his neck, the pool of blood growing beneath him.
I checked my on-board, flipping through my contacts, trying to reach Santina, Vanessa, Edmund. Nothing. I tried to access the local databases, to find the date and time, my location, the maps of the station. Nothing.
They cut me off. I thought about what he had said, realizing they'd framed me for the bombings. Why? Why would they do that?
I picked up the blaster, leaving the man in shock shivering on the ground, and crept through the smoke to the other man, the one moaning, with thick tendrils of fumes rising from his shoulder where the suit had absorbed the blaster bolt.
I said, "We're going to have a little talk, you and I, about how to get out of here."
Santina's Trail
I eased myself into the pilot's seat, adjusting it to my height so my feet touched the deck, but still uncomfortable behind the panel. I hooked my on-board into the ship's controls using command sequences and control codes supplied to me by a very helpful CounterEspionage officer.
"Good afternoon, guest user," the ship's systems acknowledged me. "Please supply the guest ID."
I held my breath, feeding in a sequence of numbers, knowing that if he wanted to, the CE officer could have given m
e poison pill codes, codes set to trigger the self-defense systems.
I hoped he had been in too much pain for vengeance.
I licked my lips, eyes studying the area around me, expecting a blaster to drop down from beneath the battered ceiling panels, or from between the atmo ducts. The skin between my shoulder blades itched up to the base of my skull.
"Welcome, guest, to the FC-TTJ-7106 Courier with the speed, stealth, and disguise packages. How may I call you?"
"Call me Ohmie." I swallowed, taking a deep breath and leaning back into the creaking chair.
"Are you an experienced astrogator, Ohmie?" the ship asked.
"No," I said.
"No worries. This FC-TTJ-7106 has all the latest in autopilot systems as of one standard month ago. What is your command?"
I blinked. "Can you find a ship and follow it?"
"Do you have the craft's registration?"
"Um." I pinched the bridge of my nose, thinking of what Santina had said in her brief message. "The name of the vessel is The Wayward Daughter."
"The name is not the registration. There are..." The voice paused.
I brought up the FC-TTJ-7106 manual and glanced through the table of contents for launch procedures and sensor array operation, afraid I'd have to manually search through the traffic around the station. The amount of things I didn't know overwhelmed me. I did not have much time and had no idea where to start.
"...four thousand five hundred and sixty-eight ships named The Wayward Daughter in the solar registry. One thousand nine hundred and seven of those ships are in our current sector. One departed this port ten minutes ago, and is headed in-system toward the Nemesis debris field."
"Follow that one," I said.
"Are you commanding me to begin launch sequence?"
"Yes"—I nodded, not that the damned thing was watching me—"I am."
"Have you been granted permission to exit the harbor?"
I shrugged, hoping for the best, the words spoken by the CounterEspionage officer still fresh in my mind. "Mick Frankl's orders."
"Of course, thank you. Please secure yourself. Launch sequence commenced."
"Oh," I said, rubbing my chin. "Do you have any devices on board which allow CounterEspionage to track you and what you're doing?"
"Yes, I do."
"Please disable those. Mick Frankl’s orders."
“Of course.”
# # #
"They're officially broadcasting that Dorothea planted the bombs," Edmund said, fists on his hips. "They're saying she was a mole for some Family or a Unity terrorist."
"No. Just fucking no." Callus sat up, whipping the sheet off his legs, off his med unit, shifted his weight to the side as he prepared to stand, and then grabbed at the med unit to keep it from falling to the deck.
"Hey!" Dr. Battenfield handed her clipboard to a junior medico and strode across the overflow ward, a temporary medical area in the FountainCorp main cafeteria. She put her hand on Callus's scarred, hairy chest, glaring up at the console hanging above the head of his bed. "Get your ass back in bed, soldier."
Callus crept back into the bed, wagging his finger at Edmund, not looking toward the doctor but doing her bidding. "There's no way Dorothea did this. You know it."
Edmund nodded. "Yeah, I guess."
"Yeah." Vanessa leaned on the headboard, nodding, pursing her lips. "She left because Santina contacted her. Santina was in trouble, and Hero was going after her."
"If you say that to Frankl, he's going to say she went after Santina to kill her or kidnap her," Edmund said, slapping his hand on the bed. "To finish the job. But he has everyone convinced that Santina is dead. They've got parts of her body."
"We don't know a damned thing about Dorothea's background, who she's loyal to, who she reports to." Kevin stood beside Edmund, arms crossed over his chest, looking back at Edmund. "Sure, she was some big-shot hero on Mars, but she was also a war criminal. Right?"
"Mah nah nuh," Sly said, a med unit attached to his jaw, working on his teeth. He stood on the other side of Callus's bed, angling to one side as Dr. Battenfield checked the med unit working on Callus's shin.
"What?" Kevin peeked back at Edmund. "What did he say?"
"Mah naw nuhf!" Sly slapped the bed with each syllable he said.
"How much do any of us really know about any of us?" Malordo said from the foot of the bed, her head tilting back as she stared at Kevin, white flecks of balm on the small puncture wounds on her face.
"You stay still." Dr. Battenfield punched Callus in his chest. "If you don't leave your med unit alone, I'm knocking you out."
Edmund waited for Dr. Battenfield to stalk off, stomping toward a nurse waving his arms for her attention.
"I've got complete histories on everybody in the team: medical, social, family." Edmund pointed at Malordo. "I know every school you went to, every grade you made, every job you had, every boy and girl you made love with. I have complete histories on everybody in the team, except Dorothea Ohmie. For her, I've got bits and pieces."
"Yeah?" Malordo trained her gaze on him, like picking out a target in a shooting range. "Well, I've fought beside her. I've had her back, and she's had mine. If she was any kind of traitor, I'd know it."
"Mm-hm, mm-hm." Sly bobbed his head, his finger rising and falling, pointing at Malordo.
"Damned straight," Lorber yelled, her voice carrying over from the bed behind Sly. "I'd be dead a couple of times over if it weren't for her."
"She used me to gain access to my computer." Edmund averted his eyes, taking a deep breath, wanting to shut up, wanting to walk away, wanting to talk about anything but this. "We fucked. When I fell asleep, she used my computer to perform searches using my login and my security clearance."
"You slept with her?" Vanessa aimed her eyes at Edmund, raising her eyebrows like she had just seen him for the first time. “Well, that explains a lot.”
"What did she search for?" Callus asked.
"She cleared the query cache. I've got no idea what she was searching for." Edmund sighed. "I reported this to Gus and Gentili. Apparently CounterEspionage are basing their accusation on my report."
"Whoa." Callus snorted. "That's pretty damning evidence right there. Not. Like not at all."
"So she had to download some high-quality porn to polish her own self off with." Vanessa crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her jaw out. "I don't see the fucking problem."
Sly waved at Vanessa, his head bobbing up and down like he was laughing.
"We need to go talk to her. See for ourselves." Moritz put her fists on her hips and looked down at the floor.
"Yeah. There's an idea." Callus sat up, whipping the sheets off his legs again. He stopped, a goofy expression on his face, his eyes crossing. He sank back slowly, lying back into the bed, snoring before his head hit the pillow.
Dr. Battenfield stepped over, shaking her head. "I warned him."
# # #
Edmund entered the brig first, walking through the door with the rest of the team behind him.
"You guys aren't allowed in here." A spook in light armor—armor so clean it looked like it had never seen battle—jumped out to stand in front of Edmund and his teammates.
"A Commander Frankl said he'd arrested one of my team." Edmund scratched his shaved head, shuffled his feet, and craned his neck to peer back into the cells in the jail. "We're here to check on her."
"We need to talk to her to learn what really happened," Moritz said, standing to Edmund's right. "Because none of this bullshit makes any sense."
Edmund reached out with his arm and pushed Moritz back a step.
"Unless you guys are FountainCorp CounterEspionage agents who rank me"—the spook held his arms out, waving them toward the team, pressing forward and trying to herd them out the door—"you are not getting in here and you will not be speaking with anyone until Frankl authorizes you."
"Are there some sort of visiting hours or something?" Vanessa crossed her arms over her chest,
refusing to budge.
"Are you not listening?" The spook squinted, glaring at Vanessa. "If there is a suspect in the custody of FountainCorp CounterEspionage—and I’m not saying there is—we will interrogate her and process her. If she is innocent of the charges against her, she will be freed back into the general population in due time. If she is convicted, she will serve her time in FountainCorp Penal until she is discharged. Do you want me to send this to you in a message so you can study it at your leisure?"
Vanessa cracked her knuckles. "Climb out of that hardware, and I'll send you a message, sweetie."
"Come on, guys." Edmund turned around, arms out trying to push everyone back through the exit. "This is wasting everyone's time."
The door to the brig swished open and Mick Frankl stormed in, his face tense, his mouth set in a hard line. “What the hell are you people doing here?”
Kevin drifted to one side, his thumbs in his belt loops, Vanessa and Sly to either side of him. Malordo and Moritz inched closer to Edmund.
Edmund strode forward, spreading his hands. "The team wanted to hear Dorothea's side of things."
"That's not going to be possible." Frankl halted a step before Edmund. “And if you people aren’t out of my way and out of CounterEspionage’s hair in the next five seconds, I’m throwing the lot of you in the brig.”
"We hoped we could talk to Dorothea or visit her later or something." Edmund kept his arms raised, hands out, signaling for everyone to cool off.
"That's not going to be an option." Frankl shrugged, his face relaxing, his breathing slowing, and stepped aside, bowing and gesturing for Edmund and his people to leave. "Furthermore, I'm going to have to ask you all to remain on-station. Register with the Housing Coordinator to obtain your new compartment assignments, and stay in them. We will be along to ask each of you some questions. We're busy right now trying to resolve an ugly situation as quickly as we can."
"Didn't mean to be an inconvenience." Edmund bowed his head, inching forward. "We're worried about our team-mate."
