by M. R. Forbes
Abbey stared at Davis; her hands clenched tightly. The shitty part of it was that Davis wasn’t wrong. She had used her freedom to satisfy her curiosity. Not that it had gotten her anywhere.
“What does this have to do with the weapons?” she asked. “I just joined the Fifth two weeks ago. You can’t possibly think I have anything to do with Sergeant Coli’s actions? The hidden compartment on the dropship would have taken longer than that to make.”
“Normally, I would agree with you, Lieutenant. Under regular circumstances, you would already be free to go.”
“Except?”
“Except those arms were intended to be picked up by General Kett’s people. And the server you recovered also belonged to the General. I’m very interested in why you haven’t been able to break it. I’ve read your file top to bottom, Lieutenant. It appears that has never happened to you before.”
Abbey closed her eyes. This couldn’t be happening. She took a pair of long, deep breaths, and then retrieved her chair from behind her. She pulled it back to the table and sat down.
“The memory on the server was erased,” she said. “I’ve been trying to piece it back together, but whatever algorithm they used has to be new. As far as I know, it isn’t illegal for me to have a different opinion than the Republic Council. I’ve served loyally and to the best of my abilities for the last six years.”
“Six years,” Davis said. “Do you know what the average enlistment period for an HSOC is?”
“No, sir.”
“Twenty-two years, Lieutenant. And that’s including the operatives who die in the line of duty.”
“Is that what this is about? My service time? I have a daughter. She’s ten years old, and I’ve spent four EW per year in her actual presence. I’ve already missed so much; I don’t want to miss everything. I never asked for anything. I never complained. I never let it affect my work. I accepted the responsibility and did what I had to do, and I have every intention of rejoining when she’s an adult. Not that it should have anything to do with this discussion. You seem to be aggregating three distinct circumstances into a single conclusion, Mr. Davis, a single, completely wrong conclusion, and I resent that.”
Davis leaned back in his seat for a moment. Then he reached forward and collected the mat, folding it closed and putting it back in his pocket. He stood up and walked over to the door.
“We’re done here, Lieutenant,” he said. “Thank you for your time.”
Then he left.
Abbey stared at the door, mixed emotions flooding through her.
Did she just save herself?
Or damn herself?
11
Captain Olus Mann felt his entire body turn cold the moment the Driver came out of FTL in the space beyond the planet Feru.
He had been told what to expect.
It hadn’t helped.
“My God,” he said.
While the planetary militia had sent crews out following the attack to begin collecting evidence and retrieving the bodies, a heavy field of debris remained trapped in the planet’s orbit, a testament to the destruction that had occurred four days prior.
“Contact Planetary Command.”
“Aye, sir,” the communications officer, Ensign Korlov replied.
A projection appeared in the open space ahead of the bridge crew a moment later. Olus was surprised to see a Trover standing there, his three-meter, muscular frame threatening to tear right through his simple gray uniform.
“My name is Captain Olus Mann,” Olus said, diverting attention away from the ship’s commander, Usiari. “I’ve been appointed by the Republic Council to investigate the attack on Feru and the theft of the Fire and the Brimstone.”
“Captain Mann,” the Trover said, saluting with a hand that could wrap around his entire head. “Major Tow.”
It took Olus a moment to remember that Trovers only had one name, typically translated into short, simple words. It wasn’t a problem in most of the galaxy, where Trovers were still somewhat rare, but he had often wondered how anyone held a decent conversation with one on their homeworld, where a room full could lead to five or six of them responding to the same address.
“Captain,” Major Tow said. “Welcome to Feru. Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“This is a matter of Republic security,” Olus replied. “I wish I could have gotten here sooner. How is she?”
“Director Eagan? She is recovering well from her ordeal.”
“I’d like to speak with her as soon as I make landfall.”
“I expected you would, Captain. She has already expressed a strong desire to speak with you as well, and have these criminals brought to justice. I’ll have an escort awaiting your arrival at the star port.”
“Thank you, Major. Mann out.”
The projection vanished. Olus turned to Commander Usiari. “I’ll need a shuttle.”
“Of course, Captain,” Usiari replied. “It will be ready by the time you reach the hangar.”
“Thank you.”
Olus looked out the viewport one more time before retreating from the bridge, headed for the hangar and the shuttle that would bring him down to Feru. He had read the reports, of course, but being here? Being here made it more real, and he could feel his anger growing. The Outworlds had been a problem for a long time, and by stealing the two prototype warships they had made a full-on declaration of war.
Of course, the Republic couldn’t rush headlong into all-out war. Not now. Not when they had yet to prove it was the Outworlders who had taken the ships. Not when, if they had, they were now in control of weapons that could destroy an entire fleet singlehandedly. They had to be smart about their response. Clandestine. Underhanded. To fight fire with fire.
That was why the Committee had contacted him directly, their orders simple and straight to the point:
Recover the ships and kill the bastards who stole them.
He didn’t offer any instructions on how to achieve that goal, nor would he. As the Director of the Office of Strategic Intelligence, it was up to Olus to figure it out and figure it out quickly. He would have full autonomy in the matter, with every resource in the Republic at his disposal, but it was imperative that he keep the operation top secret and that the Council, the Committee, and the military at large maintain plausible deniability.
In other words, he was on his own, and the Republic would sooner disavow him than risk further provoking the Outworlds. At least not until they were ready to do so on their own terms. At least not until the Fire and the Brimstone were accounted for.
First, he had to discover who was behind the attack. Right now the only lead he had was its sole survivor, the Director of Eagan Heavyworks, Mars Eagan. The fact that she had survived when nothing else had, including an entire fleet of armed starships, had raised alarms in his mind the moment he had heard the news. He didn’t trust it. He didn’t trust her. Which was why he had decided to go right to the source.
After that?
He had an idea for after that. One that the Council would probably blow up over if they ever found out about it.
Which they wouldn’t.
The operation didn’t exist.
12
Two members of Major Tow’s team were waiting when Olus arrived in Feru’s spaceport. The Major surprised him by having the foresight to send the pair of grabber pilots who had found Director Eagan to escort him, giving him a chance to question them directly about the recovery.
The trip to the Eagan estate was the perfect opportunity for that, a ten minute atmospheric shuttle ride across the Feru countryside that would have otherwise left him more annoyed than he already was.
While the Major had been smart to give him the Lieutenants, he had been stupid to let the woman go back home. Olus wasn’t going to rule her out as a suspect, and Tow shouldn’t have either.
“Tell me how you came across the shuttle,” he said, talking to the male pilot, Erlan.
“There isn’t much to tell, sir,” Er
lan replied. “We were doing routine collection, picking up larger pieces of debris that looked like they might have damage marks on them, and scanning for bodies for EMS to recover. I noticed the reflection of Sol Three on the shuttle’s hull. Of course, I didn’t know it was a shuttle at the time. Anyway, I went to investigate. Lieutenant Jesop came with me.”
Olus glanced at the other pilot, a pretty woman with blonde hair and a kind face. “And when you got close to the shuttle you recognized it immediately?”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “We’ve gone by the ring station at least a thousand times. It was always sitting at the bottom, just in case.”
“We picked up the life sign and Major Tow sent an EMS in to check it out. We didn’t know Director Eagan was inside for a good twenty minutes after that, when the EMS boarded and found her.”
“Was she awake when she was discovered?”
“No, sir. I’ve heard she was drugged. Knocked out on purpose.”
Olus had read the same in his report. The single truth led to so many questions, but the foremost was always: why did they let her live, when everyone else died?
“We haven’t really heard much about it since then, sir,” Erlan said. “We’ve been scouring the field for the last four days, and I think all the bodies have been collected. Are you planning to look at the debris while you’re here?”
He wasn’t, but he nodded. They had put too much time and energy into the process for him to tell them it had been to help keep the colony focused, not because there was any forensic data for them to recover. They already knew what had happened.
“How well do you know Director Eagan?” he asked.
Erlan smiled. “Everyone on Feru knows Mrs. Eagan,” he said. “She’s the reason we’re here. The colony supports the Heavyworks, and the Heavyworks supports the colony. I heard she was planning to rebuild.”
Olus raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I didn’t realize anyone had spoken to the Director.”
“Word is she’s been busy since she was released from Medical,” Erlan said. “Always meeting with someone or another.”
Olus grimaced. Why wasn’t that in the report? If Mars Eagan was up to no good, she had all the time and opportunity in the world to capitalize on it.
He didn’t ask the two pilots any more questions, preferring to stare out the window of the shuttle for the last few minutes of the trip. Feru was an interesting planet, a heavy mix of rocky terrain and thick vegetation that gave it a more exotic appearance than it deserved. The Eagan estate was in the middle of that, perched on a cliff overlooking a high waterfall that fed into the sea. It was in a classical style, square and stone and angled, with a large shuttle pad on the top of the highest tower.
That was where they landed. A younger woman in a crisp suit was waiting as Olus stepped out of the shuttle, putting her hand out as he approached.
“Captain Mann,” she said.
He accepted the hand. Her grip was firm. “Miss?”
“Eagan,” she replied, smiling. “Emily Eagan.”
“Mars doesn’t have any children,” Olus said.
“I’m not her daughter,” she replied. “I’m her wife.”
Olus had imagined Mars’ spouse would be the same age as Mars. He chided himself for not digging into her file more deeply.
“My apologies, Mrs. Eagan,” he said.
“Don’t worry about it. It happens a lot with off worlders, and I’m sure you’ve had little enough time to study family trees. What happened here is beyond tragic, and both Mars and I will do anything we can to help you get our property back.”
“Your property?” Olus said.
“Of course. The Fire and Brimstone belong to Eagan Heavyworks.”
“Not anymore. The articles are quite clear on situations like this. Once recovered, they’ll become evidence, and as such will be legal property of the Republic.”
“No offense, Captain, but the Fire and the Brimstone contain a raft of new, proprietary technology. Turning them over to the Republic is like asking for our IP to be stolen.”
“No offense, Mrs. Eagan, but it already was stolen. From what I have read, it is most likely because of the lax security surrounding the Heavyworks.”
Emily Eagan’s face flushed. She bit her lip, likely to keep herself from saying something crude. Then she turned and waved him forward. “Follow me.”
He did, letting her lead him in silence from the landing pad down into the estate. They navigated a few gaudily decorated corridors until they came to a pair of heavy, ornately carved wooden doors.
“Beautiful,” Olus said, breaking his silence.
“They’re from Terra,” Emily replied. “Nineteenth Century.”
Olus put his hand on one of them. He had never felt real wood from Earth before. “They probably cost more than a Republic battleship,” he said.
“More than a dozen of them,” she replied.
Her intentions weren’t lost on him. She was trying to impress him with money, either to see if he could be bought or to see if he was afraid of the power Director Eagan could bring to bear against him if he weren’t careful in his questioning.
It was a shame he didn’t give a flying frag about her money or her power. He had been in the HSOC for over forty years. He had been in charge of the OSI for more than twenty. Maybe Mars thought she could threaten him. He hoped for her sake she didn’t test that theory.
Emily pushed the door open enough for them to pass through, bringing him into a large sitting room. Mars Eagan was already seated on a large, cushioned chair, a tall glass of something in her hand. She stood as Olus entered.
“Captain Mann,” she said, smiling as she took Emily’s hand and accepted a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“It was only because of you,” Olus replied sarcastically.
Mars laughed. “Cute, Captain. I had heard you have an interesting sense of humor.”
“You’ve heard about me?”
“Of course. In my line of work, it doesn’t pay to be uninformed.”
“Then we have something in common.”
“And yet you didn’t know Emily was my wife.”
Olus smiled. Of course she was listening in on him. “To err is human.”
“And to forgive, divine,” she replied.
“How are you feeling, Director Eagan?” Olus asked.
“Please, sit, Captain.” She waved to the closest seat. “Emily, the Captain and I require privacy.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Emily replied, retreating from the room.
Olus sat as he watched her go. “You have her well-trained.”
“It’s interesting what people will accept for money. A word from me, and she’ll do anything I want. Anything, Captain.”
The suggestion wasn’t lost on him, but he didn’t need to know.
“And power?”
“Power has to be earned.”
“I appreciate your bluntness, so I’ll return it with some of my own, Mrs. Eagan.”
“Please, call me Mars. And before you say it, Captain, I’ll put it forward for you. Being the only survivor of a terrorist attack makes me look guilty as sin, and because of that you think that maybe I am. Is that right?”
“Mars. Pretty much.”
“Would you accept that this perception is precisely what the real perpetrators want?”
“I’m willing to accept anything.”
“Then your next question is why.”
“You’re very astute. Did you go through HSOC training?”
“Please. I’ll be two hundred and four years old in six weeks, Captain. I’ve been around long enough to know how this works.”
“Stasis, or regen?” Olus asked. Humans were living longer than ever. Hell, he was almost seventy. Triple that was still a long, long time.
“Neither,” she replied cryptically. “And also not relevant. What is relevant is that they wanted you wasting time bothering me while they get deeper into the Outworlds.”
“Do
you have proof of that?”
“No. Captain, I understand you’re going to have me thoroughly investigated. I have no problem with that. In fact, I invite it. My house is your house, as they say. Send your people in, and my name will be cleared. But don’t waste your personal, precious time targeting me. That’s exactly what the real criminals, the real terrorists want. That’s the only logical reason they left me alive.”
“Not because you’re working with them? I’ve gone over some of your records. The ring station didn’t have much of a security force.”
“Why should it? We’re almost ten-thousand light years beyond the Outworld border, a border that your people are supposed to be protecting.”
“You’ve never heard of corporate espionage?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere. The best defense is a good offense, is it not?”
“So they say. You saw the people who did this?”
“I saw two of them. Clearly, as they stole both ships and neither one of those perpetrators was on them, they didn’t act alone.”
“Clearly. What can you tell me about them?”
“Forget about that, Captain.” She reached over to the table beside her, picking up a small, silver disc and tossing it to him. He caught it smoothly.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Lifestream,” she said. “A recording of my life.” She tapped her eye. “I cut out the important part for you and put it on that disc.”
Olus smiled. “That’s more than I was hoping for.”
“I told you, I’ll cooperate in any way I can, Captain. Do you have my personal communicator id?”
“No.”
“It’s on the disc. If you need to contact me with more questions, please do, but I expect that will be enough for you to start your investigation?”
“Okay,” Olus said, getting back to his feet. “I see how you want to do this. My people will be in touch soon with follow-up requests. In the meantime, don’t get too comfortable. If you’re trying to hide something with your magnanimity, I’ll figure it out.”
