by Debra Jess
Cyrek lowered the stylus but didn't drop it. "Why not?"
Daeven adjusted his stance, and Cyrek wondered exactly what the security officer was thinking. "She's in the medical suite right now. If you activate her collar, you'll alert her Shadow contact and risk them getting her on life support before the collar completes its job."
"Good point." Cyrek returned the stylus to his pocket. He hadn't intended to kill Chase just yet, not when she had achieved exactly what he had hoped she would do—regain her memory. He only wanted to paralyze her, keep her in place until he could obtain custody of her. Later, he would find out how much she actually remembered. "Have you identified the Shadow? Get a good look at him?"
"Yeah, it's the news broadcaster―Joran, he calls himself."
"Your friend?"
"Not any longer."
"Must be tough, switching loyalties under these circumstances."
"I do my job, Cyrek. Whatever it takes."
Cyrek rubbed his chin in thought. "Your brother was a Shadow, though. It must be tough, playing for the other team."
Blayde winced just enough for Cyrek to confirm what his research had produced.
"My brother was an idealist. His foolishness got him killed. I'd like to think I'm smarter than that. I don't intend to get myself killed trying to obtain the unobtainable."
"Good policy, I'd say."
"I do have a question, if you don't mind my asking."
Cyrek lowered his chair so all four legs settled on the ground. "If I mind, I'll let you know."
"Chase, Silvah, me. We were all on that scout ship, and now we're all here on Dawn's Landing. You personally asked me to transfer here. Did you arrange for Chase and Silvah as well?"
"Not a big believer in coincidences, are you, Blayde?"
Blayde shook his head.
Cyrek stood and straightened his uniform, before rounding his desk and clapping Daeven on the shoulder. "Why don't we get you a change of uniform and see where this Joran is? Once we've rounded him up, along with Chase and Silvah, and have all of them stored away somewhere, I'll take you out for a brew, and we'll discuss the law of averages when it comes to opportunities and coincidences."
Cyrek guided Daeven out of his office.
"We have a problem." The director eased onto the bed next to Rory, activating the privacy screen and adjusting it to embrace the five of them.
After her entrance, she had shed her regal attitude and acted as a foot soldier, getting cozy with her comrades. It suited her just as well.
"Just one?" Rory asked, gracing the director with a shy smile.
Prior to his shower, Ramsey had placed the satchel she carried onto the bed. A brown maintenance suit had spilled out as Rory explored the contents. The suit fit Rory, not well, but well enough. Same with the work boots, which were clearly filched from someone else as they bore the scuffs and dirt of their previous owner. Tamarja briefly wondered if they were Dace's.
"One big one," Ramsey returned. Funny how she didn't seem to glare as she normally would, especially if she were talking just to Tamarja. It was almost as if preparing for the biggest fight of their lives had loosened her personality.
These sudden changes made Tamarja suspicious. Who were these people, and where had they been hiding?
The director raised her chin slightly, returning everyone's attention to her. "We've sent a team to shut down Jarvis Station. When the Shadow fleet flies through the slipstream, they're going to run smack into the Manitac warship in orbit. We'll have no time to warn them. We need to find a way to distract the warship before the fleet comes through, give them time to reorient themselves and defend Dawn's Landing."
"What about the personnel transfers? We need to rescue them as well." Tamarja was not going to let Jita fall through the cracks.
"Their rescue is part of the plan when we shut down Jarvis Station," Joran assured Tamarja.
"This, of course, assumes they're still on Jarvis Station," the director said. "I haven't been able to get confirmation of that."
If Jita were already on the warship, then she might as well be lost. Whatever fleet the Shadows sent through would attack the warship to destroy it.
"She's a friend of yours?" Rory took Tamarja's hand.
"A good friend. Someone who doesn't deserve to be wiped or killed."
Rory squeezed her hand in response. "So what are we going to do? The fleet is supposed to arrive soon."
"Less than one hour." Ramsey ticked off a timer with her stylus, transferring the data to all of them except Rory, who didn't have his own ear jack yet.
"What can we do in such a short period of time?" Tamarja had a few thoughts, but this wasn't her operation. She might have set it in motion, but the battle logistics weren't her specialty. She was a pilot and only a pilot. Rory should have chosen someone with more battle experience when he was recruiting. If he had, she wouldn't be here, wouldn't have been mind-wiped, wouldn't have met Daeven.
Who still hadn't answered her messages.
"I think shutting down the broadcast tower is our best bet," Joran offered. "Lack of communication with the surface will certainly get their attention."
"But it won't keep it," Ramsey said, thinking ahead of all of them. "They'll switch to the emergency ‘cast ‘net to communicate with Facility Prime. They'll yell at us to fix the problem and go about their business. We need to draw the warship into the atmosphere. That will slow them down. We also need to have their weapons aimed at the surface, not at Jarvis Station or the slipstream."
"What about a stolen shuttle?" Tamarja looked around as all eyes fell on her. "Not the atmosphere-bound shuttles, one of the Jarvis Station shuttles. We could send a comm to the warship saying someone junked up on Black Wave has stolen a shuttle and could they help us catch them."
"The warship would more than likely just shoot it down."
"Shoot to cripple, not shoot to kill," Tamarja argued. "No one, certainly no one serving on a Manitac warship, is stupid enough to think that replacing a shot-up shuttle won't come out of their own paycheck. Manitac would hate to have their bottom line affected by having to replace one."
"And just who would you volunteer for this not-quite-suicide mission?" Joran asked, though his eyes said he already knew her answer.
"I would."
"No!" Rory shouted. "I just found you again. I'm not losing you."
"You won't."
"You still have a collar. Manitac could shut you down in midair."
"They won't know it's me. I'm safe as long as I'm in the shuttle."
"If we're going to do this," Ramsey interrupted, "we need to do it now. We're running out of time and options."
"Now or never, Rory. You told me it could be a one-way flight when I first signed on with you."
He looked away, resigned. "Yes, I did."
She squeezed his hand again. "Let's go."
She reached out to wrap her arms around Rory once more, to help him to his feet as the director deactivated the privacy screen. Still weak from his surgery, Rory leaned on Tamarja a little harder than she expected, but she bore his weight, taking small steps to make sure he could keep up with her.
She had no sooner reached the exit than the door dissolved in front of her, bringing her face-to-face with Yohzad Cyrek.
Cyrek looked down on her and Rory. Behind him stood Daeven, wearing Manitac gray instead of AuRaKaz black, followed by a contingent of Manitac security.
Yohzad fixed her with a cold, hard stare. "Going somewhere?"
Chapter Forty-Seven
The only thing that could make Dace Maretov itch more than a decon tube was a Manitac uniform. He swore the day he arrived on Dawn's Landing and slipped into his AuRaKaz browns that he'd never wear gray again.
That promise lasted exactly six years. Thanks to the director, he was back in his gray uniform―barely―and following a squad of AuRaKaz security officers—who didn't look any happier than he felt—to Jarvis Station Ops. If anyone other than the director herself had aske
d him to join in this, he probably would have taken the nearest pair of pliers and shown them a new splicing technique he developed just for use on folks who annoyed him.
Not that he'd had to practice such a technique lately. There weren't a lot of folks on Dawn's Landing who annoyed him. Heck, there weren't a lot of folks on Dawn's Landing, period. For a productive colony, the population didn't seem to grow as much as he had seen on other Manitac worlds.
The director had asked him, however, and he had no good reason to refuse. She'd treated him well over the years, let him select his own maintenance team, got him top-rate equipment, let him set his own schedule, and paid him more than he'd ever gotten when serving Manitac. The least he could do, other than make sure she had the finest fleet of shuttles that ever graced a colony, was knock out Jarvis Station for a few minutes, hack into the slipstream controller program, and make sure the Shadows didn't slam into the shielding on this end.
"Teams two and three, now."
Without breaking stride, the squad split at the whispered command over the secure comm channel.
Dace continued following his squad, trying not to note the sudden loss of his colleagues, but feeling a lot more exposed. He should be back on the ground in a decon tube before dinner, he told himself. Assuming he didn't have to shoot anyone. He hadn't handled a weapon since he'd arrived on Dawn's Landing. Actually, he hadn't operated a slipstream since before then. Not that he was worried about that part. It would all come back to him once he bypassed the system.
Ops appeared at the end of the hallway they traveled. Their shuttle had docked while the station cycled through night mode, keeping the hallways clear of inhabitants and the public lighting dim.
"We're here," one of the other officers said, holding up his hand.
Dace looked around at the bare walls. "Now what?"
"We wait."
They waited a beat. Then another. And another.
"Maybe they didn't make it?" the other officer asked.
The first officer shook his head. "Who would be down there this time of night to stop them?"
An explosion echoed through the station, followed by a shudder that would shake even the strongest of bulkheads.
"Main thrusters are off. Orbit deteriorating. Falling back to detention center," the first team announced over the comm.
"That's our cue."
Inserting the key provided by Ramsey, the first officer dissolved the ops door, yelling, "Evac, people. This isn't a drill. Everyone out. Now!"
The four ops officers turned from their stations and stared. Another beat, and the alarms let loose with a wail followed by automated instructions to evac.
"Now!" This time, the order got a response as the ops officers quickly pushed past Dace and his team to get out.
"Go!"
Dace raced toward the main ops station. Sliding into the seat, he jacked into the system.
"Authorization code required." The words flashed across his head-up display. "Thirty seconds until security alert activation."
He entered the code Ramsey had supplied him.
"Retinal scan required for verification." Blasted redundant systems, always mucking up the works by adding more security than what was usually needed. Dace reached behind his ear and smeared the grease he'd hidden there on his thumb before spreading it over the retinal screen.
"Retinal screen off-line. Thirty seconds to security activation."
Dace didn't need thirty seconds. He pulled out a handful of tools he had stuck in his pocket earlier, selected a flat-head driver, and jammed it between the console and the terminal. He pushed until the console gave way, revealing the underbelly of the system.
He lost all lighting.
"Hey, that wasn't part of the plan!" he shouted over his shoulder. The next second, one of the officers stood over him with a hand lamp pointed into the console. "Thanks."
"Anytime."
He pulled a wire out of his pocket. Attached to the end of the wire was a chip. Feeling his way along the underside of the console with his fingertips, he found the corresponding chip he needed to replace. He popped the console chip out and slipped his own chip in place and then slammed the console closed.
Pushing the guard's lamp hand out of his way, he pulled out a soft cloth. Spraying it with a solvent, he wiped the retinal screen clean. With a quick prayer to the Stars and Guardians, he reentered the authorization code.
"Personnel transfers are not in detention. Repeat, personnel transfers are not in detention," squawked through the comm.
"Well, where the hell are they?" the first officer shouted.
"You tell us!" the tinny voice yelled back.
Dace felt the tension in the room explode as their plan started to fray at the edges.
"Retinal scan required for verification," the computer repeated.
"I'm not in the system yet. Tell them to stay put!" Dace shouted before leaning toward the screen so it could read his retina.
"Close the emergency doors!" the officer behind him shouted.
Dace didn't dare blink, but the sudden loss of the hand lamp dilated his eyes, which could mess up the retinal scan. He almost blinked again when the physical emergency door slammed shut.
"Retinal scan complete."
Dace activated his head-up display, which exploded with color. Readings from the slipstream poured more data in front of him than he could follow. He focused on the control system, locating the activation locks.
"We've got thirty seconds to open that slipstream!"
Dace didn't need to be reminded, and he didn't waste time answering. He yanked out his stylus and started entering commands. The last command entered, he locked his stylus on the icon representing the shield that protected this end of the slipstream. He punched it off with more force than was necessary.
The slipstream spewed a wide burst of energy and then yawned open, waiting to disgorge its passengers.
"Slipstream is open and locked." Dace activated his stylus and transferred a new file into the system. Locating the emergency broadcast signal, he switched out the primary message for the one Joran had delivered to him. "We did it. Message is broadcasting. The Shadow fleet should receive it as soon as they clear the horizon."
"Great." He saw twin smiles from across the room even in the low light of the hand lamp. "Can you locate the personnel transfers?"
Dace's stylus danced again, leaving the slipstream software looped so it would remain open until someone else shut it down. Back at the main directory, Dace double-checked listings for the detention center. No new entries or arrests recorded. Jarvis Station wasn't that big, and the personnel transfers would have overfilled the center. Tapping into the unsecured room registration directory, he found a list of names that matched the personnel transfers.
"Got them. They were taken to the residential suites. Ring Yellow, Green section."
"Are they still there, or did they evac?"
"Doesn't say."
One of the guards returned and picked up the hand lamp. "Never mind. We'll find out the hard way."
Dace unhooked himself from the system as the officer relayed the last known location for the personnel transfers to teams one and two.
"Let's get out of here."
Just as Dace stood to follow the security officer out, he saw the slipstream shift in color.
The Shadow fleet had arrived.
Jita sat on the edge of her bed, staring despondently at the floor of the quarters with her one good eye. The Manitac guards had shoved her in here after interrogating her about the whereabouts of her brother-in-law.
Evidently, Ianyin wasn't at his workstation or at home. No one was home, not Ornit or any of the kids. They had just disappeared after Jita had commed them.
What did you tell them? Where are they now? the guards had demanded.
Jita didn't have to lie. She told the guards she'd commed to complain about how a group of Manitac guards were rampaging around Facility Prime, terrorizing everyone in the habitat.
She didn't know what had happened to her family after that.
They didn't like her answers, so they'd blackened her eye and shut her in here. She had shed enough tears to flood the whole station. Now she had no more tears left. Rubbing the end of her nose, she tried to remember the happy moments of her life―every celebration, every party, every minute she had ever spent with her family. By this time tomorrow, she wouldn't remember any of it.
At least the guards had placed all the personnel transfers in individual guest quarters instead of the detention center. Not that she was free to wander Jarvis Station. They had used an emergency override to lock the doors from the outside and shut down all comm transmitters. She had some privacy to grieve after spending endless hours trapped in a decon tube.
She stood and wandered into the wet room. Looking into the mirror, she could see her one open eye looked redder than her hair, which had escaped the knot she wore on duty and now tangled around her face. There were also a few droplets of blood on her blouse.
She had done little but cry since her interrogation, not because her face hurt, which it did, but because she had nothing to distract her from her distress.
The guards had allowed her no time to pack. No pictures, no book reader, no access to the ‘cast ‘net. Nothing. ‘Pets had no need for such things, and she would become one of those poor, mindless puppets soon enough.
She shoved her hair behind her ears and clicked on the faucet. The cool water comforted her as she splashed it over her face. She carefully dabbed around her eyes with a cloth, trying to avoid the sore spots. She'd almost finished wiping away the moisture when the station violently heaved.
"Ouch!" Her whole body slammed into the nearest wall. Clutching the cloth with one hand and cradling her newly throbbing cheek, she staggered out of the wet room. The station shook again as the gravity shifted, and Jita fell up toward the ceiling before it shifted again, slamming her to the ground before she could readjust. The lights blinked for a moment and then flashed rapidly before shutting down, leaving her sprawled in the dark.
Were they under attack? Had the Shadows arrived to rescue her? She hadn't given the Shadows more than two thoughts since she had arrived on Dawn's Landing. Occasionally, she would read about their protests in the news, but she had never given them any serious consideration. It had seemed so pointless to fight a corporation that controlled pretty much everything. As long as Unity citizens bought Manitac services and didn't challenge their monopoly on space travel, they left citizens alone.
