by Terry Mixon
Without picking up the printout, Brad crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She dropped into the chair in front of his commandeered desk at the Raeburn Research Laboratory. “I’ve been over their computer systems with a fine-toothed comb. They’ve been sending reports to the what they believe to be the Commonwealth about their progress, been receiving orders and instructions on what to do, and seemed to have every reason to believe that they were operating under lawful authority.
“Which isn’t to say that they really are. My superiors have spoken with official representatives from the Department of Commonwealth Defense and other divisions of the government. They have no records of this facility and strongly deny ordering anyone to do research into banned weapons of mass destruction of any kind.”
Brad felt his expression sour. “What about the scientists? Did they really believe that they were working for the government, or should they have known they were working for the Cadre?”
“Oh, they should’ve known that they were working for the Cadre,” Falcone said with a snort. “Unfortunately, it seems as if people with scientific degrees can be a little short of what the rest of us call common sense.
“When someone shows up at a university or corporation claiming to be from the Commonwealth and offers one a job to work on something that is completely illegal, I would certainly hope that one would at least call the government and ask about the people offering the employment. Only, that doesn’t seem to have happened in this case.”
Falcone looked disgusted. “Not a single one of these idiots contacted the Commonwealth to verify that the job offer was legitimate. A smooth-talking recruiter—probably the same woman from the descriptions—spoke to each of them over a year ago and had them on their way here within a week.
“They even signed nondisclosure agreements, and half of them are refusing to speak with us at all because they’re afraid we’re going to put them in jail for talking.”
Brad shook his head. “I think I could probably point out which ones we’re talking about. They cooperated with the wrong people and refused to cooperate with the right ones. What about the guards? The scientists thought they were Commonwealth Marines. Have we been able to trace any of them?”
The woman nodded. “About half of them actually were Commonwealth Marines at one point. Mostly people that were thrown out for one reason or another. Not the kind of folks you’d like to meet in a back alley.”
“Considering that they gunned down half a dozen scientists when we breached the airlock, I’d imagine not.”
Brad rubbed his face tiredly. It had taken almost a week to get Falcone out there, for her to send detailed information and requests to the Inner System, and get answers back. His hope that they’d find a lead to take them directly to where the Cadre warships were hiding had been dashed.
The three ships that had been guarding this facility were Fleet surplus. There hadn’t been any survivors, unfortunately. None of the computer systems on those vessels had been salvageable.
They’d had experts go over the computer systems on the asteroid, but they might as well not have bothered. The idiot scientists had maintained everything and they didn’t know anything about the Cadre.
Worryingly, there had been no indication that any of the nerve agent had left the facility. He had people now going through the stockpiles and determining how much might be missing. First Oberon might not have worked out for the Cadre, but Brad was worried there would be more successful attacks elsewhere.
“Where do we go from here?” he asked slowly. “We’ve got nothing.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Falcone disagreed. “I’ve been following up on the He-3 trail. Those capital ships need fuel, just like you said. It has to be coming from somewhere.
“Neither JoveCorp or SaturCorp would knowingly support the Cadre, but I’ve had people watching all the tankers that are getting filled with refined fuel. There are some anomalies. I’m sure this won’t come as a shock to you, but they’re all based out of Blackhawk Station.”
He felt himself frowning. “Actually, that is surprising. After the Cadre tried to take the entire place out, I’d have expected them to be careful about who they dealt with.”
“It’s been two years since the attack,” Falcone disagreed. “People can’t maintain peak awareness over that kind of time. They’ve slacked off. Oh, I’m sure they still got a very firm set of controls over their defensive platforms, but other companies have moved in to take Ringbolt Associates’ place.
“One of them—and I can’t tell you which one at this point—is probably working with the Cadre, because they’ve been shipping tankers out to Fleet installations that Fleet never asked for and that never arrived to deliver their cargo. That means the Cadre is the most likely recipient.”
A knock on the hatch interrupted them. Dr. Merlyn Grass stood outside in the corridor, frowning through her glasses at them.
Brad gestured for the woman to come in. “What can I do for you, Doctor?”
“I have bad news,” the scientist said, wringing her hands. “I’ve just completed an inventory of all biohazard storage facilities. A significant quantity of the VX-65 nerve agent is unaccounted for. I’m still not certain what the material in the containers actually is, but it’s definitely inert and not harmful in the same way as the nerve agent would be.”
Falcone leaned forward in her chair. “Just how much nerve agent are we talking about? I’ve provided you an estimate of what I believe was used at First Oberon. Is the missing amount comparable?”
The mousy woman shook her head. “Worse, I’m afraid. By my estimation, if you include what was released at First Oberon, there is enough nerve agent unaccounted for to conduct an additional three attacks of the same severity.”
Brad sighed. One more complication that could end up killing tens of thousands of people. What in Everdark did the Cadre gain from doing this? If one was looking at money, their piracy and terrorism made no sense. There had to be something more going on behind the scenes.
“How much nerve agent is still locked up here, Doctor?” he asked tiredly.
“Roughly ten times that amount. I’ve been operating under the assumption that we’re not going to leave that here when we depart. I’ve gathered it all together in reinforced containers for disposal.”
Brad glanced at Falcone. “What does the Agency have to say about that? Are we good to destroy it? Let me be clear: that’s my preference.”
The Commonwealth Agent nodded emphatically. “I’ve been given instructions to make sure that that happens. When we depart for Io, I believe we should drop it into Jupiter’s atmosphere. Not only that, I want to see this entire facility destroyed so completely that there is no chance anyone will be able to make it operational again or relocate the equipment.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Brad said decisively. “Dr. Grass, if you’d have your people take anything that you’ll find useful elsewhere but that is not specific to developing and manufacturing nerve agent, I’m more than happy to let you take it with you when we depart for Io. We’ll be planting charges to obliterate this facility before we depart. How long will it take you to get everything ready?”
The woman flushed a little. “Actually, I’d assumed that would be what we were doing and have already seen to it. The equipment is still in open containers so that you can examine it and verify that it is not specific to nerve agent manufacture. I’d estimate that with a thorough inspection, we can be ready to depart in only a few hours.”
“Good work, Doctor. I’ll let Agent Falcone verify everything and we’ll plan on pulling out for Io in three hours. That will allow everyone more than enough time to double-check without feeling rushed.
“We’ll take a slight detour and drop the nerve agent into the Jovian atmosphere before completing our journey to Io. If you would, please pass my thanks to everyone for their hard work. We deeply appreciate it.”
Dr. Grass nodded. “Thank you for the opportunity, Commodore. And, of course, the money you paid us for coming out here in doing this. It’s going to assist our research quite a bit. We’re also happy to serve the Commonwealth.”
Falcone rose to her feet. “Commodore, I’ll leave you to what you’re doing and go make sure that everything is as we expect. If you could make certain that we’re going to be ready to head for Blackhawk Station once we drop the scientists off, I’d like to get there as soon as possible without tipping our hand.”
Kawa Repair and Construction had finished the repair work on both of the damaged Vikings vessels in the last twenty-four hours. They’d be ready to depart as soon as the scientists were on a shuttle back down to Io.
Brad smiled. “I can’t wait to see what they’ve done with the place.”
Somewhat to Brad’s shock, they managed to drop the nerve agent into the Jovian atmosphere without any problem. It burned up cleanly along with all the equipment critical to its manufacture. He’d halfway expected the Cadre to turn up and try to take it back from them.
They arrived at Io on schedule and sent the scientists down on a civilian shuttle. Bound by Law and Alan-a-dale were waiting.
Once they’d snuck away from Oberon, he’d arranged for a tow for Alan-a-dale. Hiroshi Kawa had worked his people overtime to make certain the corvette was operational in time. Saburo’s father had definitely earned his bonus this time.
To mask their destination, and to guard against the Cadre ambushing them again, his ships acted as if they were headed toward the asteroid belt before engaging stealth and changing course.
Even then, they didn’t head directly for Saturn. It was far better to arc above the plane of the ecliptic for a while. Every kilometer that they put between themselves and where the Cadre expected to find them meant a significant reduction in the chances they’d be detected.
Going out of the way did increase the amount of time it took to get to Blackhawk Station, but that beat another ambush. It also made it far less likely that the Cadre would change their fuel delivery schedule because they got worried.
If the Vikings could tag a tanker heading out to meet the Cadre’s heavy warships, then they could turn the tables and ambush them.
That still left them the delicate task of identifying which tanker to trail. Falcone had narrowed their search to a single company—Draco Limited—but Brad wasn’t convinced she’d found all of the information they needed to make this operation a success.
Thankfully, he knew someone he could rely on to answer any questions he might have. Lisa Simon, the tactical officer of Bound by Law, had once been a senior security officer on Blackhawk Station.
She undoubtedly still knew people in their security department and could probably be confident of their character.
He took a shuttle over to Law to both keep their discussion private and to have a chance to look over the repairs. She met him in her commanding officer’s office.
“I’d forgotten how big this was,” Brad said as he took a chair. The three of them were seated in the open area in front of Brenda Andre’s desk.
“That’s not a plus,” Andre said. “Fleet made a bad call on this. I’d rather have more bridge space.”
While he could certainly see her point, Brad disagreed in principle. The extra office space was useful to a mercenary commander. Presentation was actually important, as much as it annoyed him.
He turned down her offer of coffee and turned to Lisa Simon. “I’d rather not have our ships show up at Blackhawk Station. Any sighting will get back to the Cadre, and I don’t want them to know that we’re on their tail. If they feel spooked, they’ll cut and run.
“That’s why I’ve come to you for help. I feel confident you still know a lot of people there. Do you think you could get someone there to give us an idea of when certain tankers are going to be leaving?”
Simon nodded. “Absolutely. The management of Blackhawk Station may have scapegoated me, but I had an excellent relationship with everyone in security. I can think of half a dozen people off the top of my head that would be willing to pass information to me without saying a word to anyone.
“As a plus, I’ve actually been in communication with a few of them over the last couple of years. Me sending a message now isn’t going to stand out at all.”
“Excellent,” Brad said with a smile. “Here’s what I’d like you to do. Send your message to our office on the Io Shipyards and we’ll have them forward it. I trust our encryption. They can forward your message on to Blackhawk and it will seem as if we’re still near Io. Their return message will have to be forwarded back to us, but we have to consider communications security at Blackhawk to be compromised.”
Simon leaned back in her seat slightly, her eyes unfocused as she considered what he’d said. After a few seconds, she nodded. “I have someone in mind. Management promoted him to lieutenant after they fired me. Excuse me; I should’ve said ‘when we mutually agreed that it was best for me to move on in search of other opportunities.’”
Simon said the last with accompanying air quotes. The sight made him smile wryly.
“Make sure that he is exceptionally discreet,” Brad added seriously. “It’s almost certain that at least one company there is either a shell working directly for the Cadre or has senior people in their pay. It wouldn’t surprise me if the Cadre has infiltrated management at Blackhawk Station.”
His warning made Simon’s smile widen. “If they are, I’ll bet someone suspects. If so, I’d love to snag them up with the Cadre scum we’re going to track down.”
“Me too,” he said with a matching grin. “Remember, someone might be watching for our communications, so keep things low-key. If you have a personal cypher your friend already has, please use it but still be as discreet as possible.”
“Count on me, Commodore. I still have a lot to pay the Cadre back for, and I’m not new to the security game. No one will know about this from my end.”
“Excellent,” he said, turning his attention to Andre. “Now, Captain, I’d like to take a tour of the ship and see the repairs. After that, I’ll take you up on that coffee.”
Chapter Nineteen
Brad was pleased to see that Lisa Simon’s activities bore fruit before they got to Blackhawk Station. She was quickly able to establish communication with one of her former coworkers and used a shared encryption key that the man already had to send him a file that she implied had some…ahem…“intimate images.”
Not, she’d assured him, that she’d actually sent him naked pictures of herself. Whether she did or not was none of Brad’s business. All that he cared about was that the ruse got their request for specific information on tankers going in and out for Draco Limited.
Over the course of the next three days, her friend in Blackhawk Security got her a complete list not only of which ships the company routinely used and what their schedule had been in the past, but also their intended schedule for the next few months.
Even though Simon trusted the man, they didn’t tell him that they were most interested in the tankers that were supposedly servicing Fleet bases and units. Operational security for this mission needed to be tight.
Once they had the schedule, Brad closeted himself with Falcone and Simon. The former had experience with picking out patterns and unusual twists of data. The latter, even after all this time, still had an incredible grasp on how things worked at Blackhawk Station. Odd patterns there would stand out to her.
“For such a little company, they seem exceptionally busy,” Simon said after studying the data. “SaturCorp is a huge organization that has existed for decades, and they only have about twice as many tanker flights as Draco Limited. That is really strange.”
“That’s not the most interesting part,” Falcone said, tapping the screen of her tablet. “When you look at SaturCorp’s flights, they usually involve multiple tankers going to large facilities. That’s how the company makes a profit: they deliver in bulk.
“What do you mean?” Brad asked, trying to see the pattern that had caught her eye in the data. Nothing stood out to him.
“Just look at these deliveries to the belt. Jupiter is much closer to the asteroid belt, and JoveCorp is in a far better position to fill many of these orders. Oh, not all. Orbital mechanics see to that, but some of Draco’s flights almost directly bypass Jupiter to get to the belt. That makes no sense at all. It has to be costing someone a lot of money to use them rather than JoveCorp.”
“Why would a small company based out of Saturn be making such long trips deep into the system if they didn’t have to?” Brad asked.
“Camouflage?” Simon asked. “To make deliveries to places someone can’t trust JoveCorp or SaturCorp to see?”
Falcone pointed at the other woman. “Exactly! Some of these deliveries are almost certainly to Cadre facilities. Probably not many, but still. They need a lot of unrelated traffic to hide their critical deliveries.
“It’s always better if no one sees you doing something you want hidden, but if you can’t hide, make certain there are plenty of other things going on to attract any unfortunate attention. The Agency teaches that to all their agents and it works.
“That’s why pattern recognition is such a crucial skill for an agent. We have to dig the important things out of the muck and recognize that they matter. This matters.”
Brad studied the detailed list of tanker flights. These were the filed flight plans, so there was no guarantee that the tankers actually went anywhere close to the listed destinations.
In any case, there were a lot of them. Anyone not knowing that the shipments to Fleet installations were bogus would probably never notice them in the noise of the other transactions.
