Along the Watchtower: A Gritty Space Opera Adventure (Frontier's Reach Book 4)

by Robert C. James

  Aly didn’t have an immediate answer. Instead, she wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed him. Jason wasn’t sure how to react. He let his lips decide for him and kissed her back

  Whoa…

  They parted and stared at each other. He didn’t know what to say.

  Out of the corner of Jason’s eyes, a figure emerged. Both looked at Althaus standing before them with a stunned expression on his face.

  “I remembered there was something I had to do down in the cargo bay.” Aly blushed and, as quick as a flash, hurried off from the awkward situation, brushing past Althaus out the hatchway.

  Thanks.

  Jason regathered his composure. “What is it, Althaus?”

  His older comrade eyed Aly running toward the elevator then turned back around. “Rycroft said I’d find you here. We need to talk about the ownership of this ship when you leave.”

  Jason had a decision to make. Would he give it to Althaus who probably deserved it as he was the closest thing to family he had left? Or hand it over to Kevin because Althaus was such a bastard? It wasn’t a choice he was in the mood to make right at that moment.

  “Let’s take a rain check and come back to that.” He walked from the engine room, wondering what in the world had just happened.

  *

  Holden City, Mars

  Marissa sat in her cubicle, staring at her computer monitor. She was trying to write an article she’d planned to put in tomorrow’s paper. It was a puff piece. One she couldn’t get enthused about.

  It’d been over half a day since she’d handed over the information about her tip-off and wondered how long Sandra needed to make her mind up.

  Having waited long enough, she hurried through the bullpen to her editor’s office, and knocked on her door.

  “Come in.”

  Marissa pushed it open. Behind her desk, sifting through material on her computer, was the editor in chief of the Martian Tribune, Sandra Veroni.

  Marissa’s boss didn’t even blink. She continued to stare at her monitor for several more minutes before looking up and adjusting her eyes.

  “Close the door,” she said.

  Marissa did so and took a seat opposite her. “Well?”

  “Well…” Sandra mused. “It’s an interesting piece of writing.”

  “It’s an interesting piece of writing?” Marissa was gobsmacked. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “How about: Hey, can you get cracking on that story so it’s ready for the front page of the Tribune’s evening edition?”

  “How can I run with this?” Sandra stood and walked over to the window. “You can’t substantiate it, and if it’s fake, we’ll be in serious breach of the media standards charter. If it’s true, we’ll royally piss off the current standing administration.”

  “Since when do we care about that?” Marissa got up from her seat and approached her. “We’re here to report the truth. We’ve got a story about a cover-up thirty years in the making. Not to mention information on a massacre this government has yet to reveal to the public. We have to make them accountable.”

  “And end up like the Continental Herald?”

  Marissa threw her arms up in the air and walked away. Like everyone else, she’d heard of the sackings after the Earth-based newspaper ran a story on the final assault of Centauri by Earth forces at the end of the war. One that hadn’t painted President Jarret in the greatest of lights.

  Many rival newspapers assumed the Herald was leaned on by his administration to clean up their house because of it, or face increased scrutiny on their coverage.

  “All the more reason to run the story,” Marissa continued. “If this administration is rotten, let’s get to the bottom of it.”

  Sandra shook her head. “I can’t risk the Tribune’s reputation. I’m sorry, Marissa.”

  She stared at Sandra, not knowing whether to be angry or just bemused at what she was hearing. So, this is what journalism has come to?

  Marissa stormed out of the office. She went to her cubicle, shut down her computer, and picked up her bag. She’d couldn’t work another minute.

  The first sight she saw when she entered her apartment after returning home was Marcus preparing a roast in the kitchen.

  He looked at his watch in mock horror. “And what time do you call this? I didn’t expect you back for hours.”

  “Bad day.” She dropped her bag on the counter and sat on the stool opposite him.

  Marcus promptly opened the wine refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of chardonnay. He poured her a glass and handed it to her.

  She smiled. At least she tried to. “What would I do without you?”

  He leaned over the counter and kissed her on the forehead. “Go and rest. I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready.”

  Marissa kissed him back and took her wine through to the living area. She sat on the sofa and drank a slightly larger gulp than she should’ve.

  The day’s frustration burned inside her. Not just that Sandra had robbed her of the story of the century but how her industry had sunk so low.

  I could take things into my own hands. Though it may get me fired.

  Then again it might be the greatest thing to ever happen to me…

  She swished the wine glass around in her hand and pondered.

  Oh, what the hell.

  She activated the wall monitor and stared down the lens of the camera. “Hello, my name is Marissa Caldwell…”

  Chapter 12

  Cargo Ship Argo

  Jason took the hot meal out of the food dispenser and breathed in the peppercorn sauce wafting through the air. It may not have been the real thing, but it was the best he’d get out on the frontier.

  He sat at the table, picked up a knife and fork, and remembered back to his days in the service. Even during the war he’d eaten better than he had his whole life aboard the Argo. But there was just something about the rehydrated meals he’d grown up with that made him nostalgic.

  A shadow appeared over him. Althaus stood at the door of the galley.

  “What?” Jason said to him, not too impressed with being interrupted.

  Kevin emerged from behind Althaus and frowned. “Sorry, Jason. Althaus was insistent we get to the matter of the Argo’s ownership.”

  “Does it have to be right now? We’ve got six months until I hop off at Vesta III.”

  Unfortunately.

  “If we don’t do it, it’ll never get done.” Althaus walked toward him and leaned over, putting his hands on the chair opposite. “I know you, kid. You’ll drag this out.”

  Any chance you can stop calling me kid? That might help your cause. “It’s something that’ll take time to think about.”

  “What’s there to think about? If you hadn’t come along, I was the next in line. It’s only fair—”

  “But Tyler didn’t leave it to you, did he?” Jason threw his fork down. “Why do you deserve it?”

  Althaus stood upright and fumed. “Because I’m your father’s half brother.”

  “So, because Grandpa banged a different grandma, you think that gives you a claim to the Argo?”

  That only seemed to make Althaus angrier. Jason looked to Kevin who was doing his best to stay out of the argument.

  “What about you? What’s your pitch?” he asked him.

  “I have no pitch, Jason.” Kevin ambled over to the drink dispenser and filled a glass of water. “Tyler left the ship to you. It’s your decision.”

  Jason was well aware Kevin didn’t want the Argo, but in his heart he probably didn’t want to work for Althaus either.

  “Maybe I should do what Solomon did.” Jason sliced his steak with his knife. “I’ll cut the ship in two and give you a piece each.”

  “You’re an idiot,” Althaus grumbled.

  “Leave it with me, okay. I promise I’ll have a decision by the end of the week.”

  Althaus went to say something but was interrupted by
Aly’s call over the intercom.

  “Bridge to Jason.”

  Jason activated his commband. “Go ahead.”

  “A bogey has appeared at the edge of scanning range. It’s altered course and heading our way.”

  Jason stared at his two comrades. They finished up their squabble and headed to the bridge. Aly was sitting at the operations station, and the three men approached her.

  The bogey was indeed pursuing, and it was catching them fast.

  “How long before they reach us?” Jason asked her.

  “Three hours at this rate.”

  Kevin eyed the monitor. “Any transponder ID?”

  Aly shook her head. “It’s running dark.”

  “Marauders?” Althaus pondered.

  Jason wasn’t so sure. “We’re not that far away from Outpost Watchtower. It’d take some serious gonads to hit even a civilian ship so close to a fleet carrier. Marauders aren’t stupid.”

  He leaned over and activated a star chart of the region on an opposing monitor. He pointed toward a star. “The Verada System. If it is Marauders, we’ll need cover. We’ll be a sitting duck out in open space.”

  Kevin nodded. “It’ll take a slight detour, but we can be there before they reach us.”

  “Alter course.”

  Kevin trotted off to the helm and made the necessary correction while Althaus made his way to the systems station.

  Jason looked down at Aly. They hadn’t really spoken since their episode in the engine room. She’d avoided him like the plague. While he wanted to say something, the time was hardly right. They now had more pressing matters.

  *

  Holden City, Mars

  Sandra didn’t even consider putting on something nice for the evening. Her day had been long. Too long. It was straight into her pajamas.

  She stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head and entered the kitchen to rummage in the pantry.

  “Ty, did you eat the last of the chocolate?” she shouted toward the living area.

  He didn’t reply.

  “Ty!”

  She stormed out of the kitchen to find her husband on the sofa with his eyes glued to the wall monitor. “Did you hear me?” she asked.

  “Have you seen this?” He pointed at the news report playing. A ‘breaking news’ banner scrolled at the bottom of the screen.

  “This video by Marissa Caldwell of the Martian Tribune just posted to the ComChat network has already gone viral,” the anchor said.

  Sandra sat on the arm of the sofa. A video played of Marissa sitting in her own apartment.

  “Hello, my name is Marissa Caldwell. Journalist at the Martian Tribune in Holden City. I come to you today with a report my employers fear releasing. Our profession has always strived to work for the people and give you the news, warts and all. But now, with the current administration, we’ve become frightened. Frightened for our careers and our livelihoods. This must change. They will cast a shadow on us no longer.

  “This morning I received information that an aggressor of extraterrestrial origin attacked the decium ore mining facility on Orion V. All lives were lost, including the crew of the UECS Vanguard, which was delivering another extraterrestrial to the planet to be used in the study of an ancient artifact unearthed beneath the surface over a year and a half ago.

  “When was President Jarret going to inform the families of those lost? When was he going to reveal the existence of an extraterrestrial covered up for over thirty years? Or tell us of the six million-year-old relic beneath Orion V?

  Sandra’s commband lit up with messages coming in from the powers that be at the Tribune.

  I’ll kill her.

  “It’s time we heard from President Jarret. The ball’s in your court, Mister President. What do you say to the people of the commonwealth?”

  Chapter 13

  Cargo Ship Argo

  The Argo pulled out of FTL and entered the Verada System. Aly checked the scanners on the operations console and noted the system consisted of four large-mass objects. Two minor planets near the sun and two big gas giants toward the outer edge of the system.

  Jason walked up from behind her and glanced at the readings. “Verada IV seems nice.”

  The fourth planet was a gas giant only slightly smaller than Jupiter. Its atmosphere contained elements of hydrogen, helium, methane, and ammonia.

  “We probably wouldn’t want to go on vacation there,” she quipped.

  “It’ll just be a stopover.” Jason turned to Kevin. “Take us to Verada IV.”

  He nodded and altered the Argo’s heading toward the large blue orb. All the while, Aly kept an eye on the outer edge of the system, waiting for their pursuer to appear.

  “Approaching orbit,” Kevin said.

  “Initiate orbital insertion.” Jason stroked his shabby beard. “Hightail it to the opposite side of the planet. Let’s see if they enjoy playing hide and seek.”

  Aly wasn’t so sure his plan would succeed. The math didn’t work. She imagined Jason knew that, too, and hoped he had another idea.

  Kevin began his countdown. “We’ll be out of their scanning range in seven…six…five…four—”

  An alert rang out from Aly’s console. “Damn it.”

  “Let’s hear it.” Jason sat down in the captain’s chair.

  “We were too late,” she said. “They dropped out of FTL just before we took cover. They would’ve calculated our heading.”

  “Did you get a good scan? What are we dealing with?”

  She brought it up on one of her monitors. It was a Richmond Class freighter. Her heart skipped a beat. “Oh no.”

  “Oh no?”

  “It’s The Gallant Trader.” Althaus checked the scans from his station.

  “Who’s the gallant trader?” Jason asked.

  “The Gallant Trader is a ship not a person.”

  “Right. And who—?”

  Kevin spun around. “It’s the flagship of the McKinley family.”

  “The McKinleys? The crime mob?”

  Aly nodded. “We worked for them in the past. It’s a long story. Last we heard of them, they were all in prison.”

  “They may have someone on the outside working for them,” Althaus added.

  Jason glared at him. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just… Hariri asked me about our dealings with the McKinleys during my debrief. It seems a coincidence that suddenly they should reappear.”

  That’s odd.

  Jason appeared to believe so, too. “Well, regardless, they’re here. We need to get creative.” He turned to Aly. “How do you think we’ll go inside that?” He gestured toward Verada IV.

  “Inside the atmosphere?” She looked again at the composition of the giant world’s nasty environment. “It wouldn’t be my first idea—”

  “If you’ve got a better one?”

  She studied her monitor and ran the computations. “Don’t go any farther than two kilometers down.”

  “Good enough.” Jason nodded. “You heard her, Kevin, take us down.”

  He glanced at Jason warily and dipped the Argo toward the planet. The hull rattled and screeched. Aly felt the pain of the old girl as she wailed out in agony. Her father leveled the ship off and nuzzled it between a pair of volatile gas layers.

  The wait began. Apart from the occasional rumble, the Argo didn’t budge. That was until a torpedo exploded off her port bow.

  Boom!

  Everyone launched from their seats. Sparks flew from the ceiling, and the lights flickered. Aly looked upward from the deck, wondering how she’d got there. She quickly regained her senses and pulled herself up.

  “How the hell did they pinpoint us so quickly?” Althaus bellowed from the other side of the bridge, while another torpedo detonated off the starboard bow.

  Jason grappled at his chair, heaving himself back in to it. “Kevin, alter course. Any direction! Aly, are you sure you looked everywhere when we left the Repulse
?”

  What does that have to do with…

  Realization dawned on her. The only way they could’ve found the Argo so fast was if they were being tracked. “A homing beacon?”

  Another torpedo shook the ship off its axis.

  “We can’t keep doing this!” Kevin yelled out, stabilizing the helm.

  If I was going to place a homing beacon somewhere so the crew wouldn’t find it, where would I put it?

  Eureka!

  “I’ll be in the engine room!”

  *

  Caput Mundi House – Istanbul, Earth

  “It’s time we heard from President Jarret. The ball’s in your court, Mister President. What do you say to the people of the commonwealth?”

  “Turn it off!” Glendon pounded his fist onto his desk, while Luan Ntini deactivated the large wall monitor at the end of the office.

  “How the hell did this get out?” he stared across at Luan then shot an accusatory glare at his Minister of Defense.

  Takashi appeared dumbfounded. “We kept a close eye on all communications from the Repulse and Outpost Watchtower. There has been no leak of information.”

  “Well, it got out somehow. You’ve been asleep at the wheel, Takashi.” Glendon scowled at his chief of staff. “This won’t play out well at all. If I wasn’t already toast at next year’s election, I will be now. How are we going to fix this?”

  Luan was pensive. “Since Caldwell did this on her own accord, we can’t go after the Tribune like we did with the Herald.”

  “And we can’t make her disappear, it’ll look too suspicious.”

  “We could try to defame her,” Takashi suggested. “The information she has might be disseminated and made to appear fake. And if—”

  “I’d advise against that,” Luan interrupted him. “If we’re found out, losing an election will be the least of our worries.”

  Damn Luan and his logic. Glendon was caught between a rock and a hard place, but during his career he’d always turned the tables and used it to his advantage. Perhaps now is no different.