“Chief,” Stoker said as he extended his hand. “Great speech. You tack that Believe line on all of them?”
“Ah, Sky Marshal Stoker,” Alistair said as she shook his hand. “Always a pleasure. I didn’t realize you ever got your boots dirty.”
“What, as long as you’re around, Chief?” Stoker said with a forced smile.
Stoker and Alistair. Both heroes in everyone’s eyes, but in their own, Alistair was the sole authority on the ground while Stoker was authority in the sky. Although their differing paths as Marshals meant they would rarely cross, situations of jurisdiction sometimes clashed. Their rivalry would have remained petty if it hadn’t been for a major incident years ago.
“I was just seeing the Chief out, Stoker,” Windsor said.
“I’ll be quick, Councilor, but I believe Alistair should hear this as well. I’ve officially opened an investigation into the attack within the ENF blockade.”
“So soon to get back to it?” Alistair said smugly as she crossed her arms.
“I don’t follow, ma’am,” Stoker said. “Something to add?”
“It’s been almost a year since you’ve taken a case. The accident hasn’t left you… weathered?” Stoker remained silent, reflecting on Alistair’s words. They were sometimes bitter with each other, each jabbing wherever they could, but now Alistair was swinging low. “Did Naval Command pass your medical and psych evaluation-?”
“Alistair, that’s enough,” Windsor said, causing Alistair to bite her tongue. “Stoker and his Space Angels more than handled the attackers at the blockade. I’d say he’s fit for Marshal activities again. Now, Henry, I’m glad to see you’ve taken the initiative on this case. Have you any leads to start with?”
“Just one,” Stoker said, still glaring at Alistair. Her light eyes were both beautiful and malicious. “I’ve been questioning the Orbital Gate Operators and landing crews and finally pinpointed the origin of the attacking craft, somewhere out of Shanghai.”
“I’ll take the investigation, Henry,” Alistair said quickly. “I have one hundred and two precincts in Shanghai who can find the attackers with ease.”
“With all due respect, Chief, these enemy fighters killed innocents within the Earth Naval Blockade. This is ONI’s investigation.”
“Since they’re operating out of one of my cities, Naval Intelligence sits this one out,” Alistair said, Stoker off. “Keep the blockade safe from the sky bandits, Henry, and let my elite investigators take care of this.” Stoker turned around to the pair of elite enforcers who accompanied Alistair.
“What? And send goons like them? They look like they’re about to invade the Moon!”
Alistair was doing a great job of keeping things non-hostile, although she was aggressive in her efforts. Windsor could see right through the both of them and quickly stamped out the growing ember.
“Please. This isn’t a game, Marie,” Windsor said. “You’ve got a lot on your plate already with the Taken. And Henry, if you’re fine with a ground investigation, then so be it. The two of you should be supporting each other, as you’re both agents of this Council.”
“Oh, by all means. Should you require support in Shanghai Henry, I won’t hesitate to offer it,” Alistair said. “I really do hope Naval Command passed you legitimately. Your decisions shouldn’t be impaired down there, after all. Good day, Councilor.” Alistair gestured her head toward Windsor as she made her exit. She nodded at Stoker, no doubt having intentionally unearthed old bitter feelings.
“I guess there’s a little bit of Krieg in her,” Windsor said.
“It’s still on her mind,” Stoker said. “The Broken Sun. She had called in a Rapere Terminate deep in Shanghai’s harbor, all available aircraft to assist her overrun ground units. I held them back. Too many anti-air threats. I would have lost hundreds. She advanced too fast, left a lot behind.”
“I remember the incident well,” Windsor said. “You didn’t make the wrong choice.”
Stoker half-smiled. “I didn’t make the right one, according to her. I can’t help but think that even after her attempts in Freedom, she still blames me.”
“You both accomplish the impossible. No one is keeping score, Henry.”
“I just try not to piss her off,” Stoker said. “I think it’s my smile.”
Windsor smirked, seeing that Henry was still himself even after a bitter disagreement. “So, I take it you’ll be conducting the investigation yourself?” Windsor asked.
“For now. I know some old faces in China. Mercs now, but they know how to keep a low profile. They might be able to help.”
“Good. Although Henry, I must ask, are you sure you’re up for a new case? I know you’ve been lying low with routine ENF patrols since your medical passed, but—”
“It’s my duty, sir. My skies were attacked and that deserves justice.”
“That’s what I respect about you, Stoker, resolve is unshaken. I did notice in the report that these craft were… good?”
“Yes, sir, we analyzed the wreckage of some of the remains – scraps of metal really. Unknown fighters straight down to the avionics, fast and deadly. It’s an unknown design, not resembling anything I’ve seen before. These things were something new.”
“How were you able to take them down?” Windsor asked.
“Because my team is the best, sir,” Stoker smiled. “They were advanced craft, all right, but their pilots were far from it.”
“Okay, Stoker,” Windsor nodded his head, realizing that Stoker was obviously on top of the situation and he didn’t need to worry. “Find out what their motives are and neutralize them.”
“About that, sir. They were after McKenna, your new Marshal. When they started their attack, they only went after merchant vessels. I ran the registry IDs and owners of the vessels that were destroyed. Nothing links them to McKenna.” Stoker brought up his OPIaA, depicting footage from several ships spliced together showing the battle. “Almost systematically. Then they reach McKenna’s vessel, also a merchant ship. After that, they were on him for the entire engagement.”
“Something else is on your mind?” Windsor said.
“Someone knew McKenna would arrive in a merchant vessel, but lacked intel on which one. Someone wanted McKenna dead, and there are not many people who could have known he would arrive in such a craft.”
“There’s one, Brooks” Windsor said. “He’s a relations ambassador, one who’s been missing for some time now. He was supposed to escort McKenna here, but he never showed.”
“That sounds like it would be a good lead.”
“By all means, use every resource at your disposal. For now, it seems you should focus on where the craft originated from.”
“Yes sir,” Stoker said, and turned to take his leave.
“And Henry? Just take it slow. No need to bombard that mind of yours, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Stoker said as he exited.
Once Windsor saw him leave the chambers, he knew Stoker wouldn’t come back until he either had damning evidence or the perpetrators in cuffs. The Sky Marshal was one of his best. The rest of the Council were still in a conference call now. Windsor shook his head at the other members. He could only think of how the planet been a unified government for not even ten years, yet the Council was already slipping into ancient habits of debate without action, mutants and terrorists thriving while they did so.
Windsor thought on the Taken, the next challenge the planet had decided to test humans with, and once again they were not ready. He then pondered on the attack on High Science. Terrorists who knew no bounds, no fear, no mercy. Yet amongst the treason and viral pandemic, one simple matter kept gnawing at his skull, an itch he needed scratched. He had barely contained his curiosity in front of the others. Windsor made sure they weren’t looking and took a seat in comfort across the room at a small coffee table.
The message Alistair handed him was indeed secured, and suspiciously at that. Why would that Auroran send not a message, but a privat
e message? Why not to Interpol or Mahto? What has she seen? Is it even real? Looking at the coded puzzle, he could easily make out the alien language – or rather, the alien code. Sure, it could be cracked within a week or so by ONI’s top intelligence agents, but when you’ve illegally digitalized the entirety of a Revente Enigma Machine that was lost somewhere across the galaxy like he had, it was hardly necessary. The message slowly began to appear as the letter turned to something legible.
MARKAL,
THEY USED US.
FIND THE COMMANDER.
-V. U’ldanta
The message had been written in broad terms in case someone like Windsor found it. Windsor was confident she was implicating humanity of something. He had always suspected that U’ldanta was never fond of humans in the first place. He thought it ironic. From what he’d observed, Revente only cared of honoring the Emperor and the Spirit, but they didn’t give thought to humans without some goal in return.
Windsor had his own speculations on the pretenses of this message. There was no telling what she had uncovered after time with the Commander but whatever it could have been, was not an acceptable risk. The Commander needed to remain buried, even if that meant the Doctor’s safety.
He took a glance around. Nobody the wiser. The most coveted skill a politician could practice was secrecy. Whether that meant avoiding truths or telling broken ones – to McKenna, Alistair, the rest of the Council, even Markal – some things just couldn’t be shared. U’ldanta and Markal were clearly very aware of this.
This message is dangerous to us.
A secret could damn a man, end a war, or start one. A simple lie could break trusts and oaths. But secrets could also protect, an often-forgotten fact.
As he looked at the Council, Windsor could only scoff at them. They have no idea what keeps them safe. I do only what’s right. He quickly scrambled and corrupted the message. It now looked as if the message were never opened or tampered with, yet no one would be able to read its contents.
Sorry, Doctor U’ldanta.
15
THE COMMANDER’S WISH
The cell blocks that comprised of Pluto Correctional’s staging wings were cold all year round. The prisoners within them received less than comfortable conditions.
There were a total of one hundred and four staging wings on Pluto’s surface that held some of the vilest of sentenced criminals in the System, awaiting their inevitable fate of a cryoblock in the space stations in Pluto’s orbit. The stations above had minimum security as one would expect to guard an ice cube, but the facilities on the surface were the opposite.
Staginh Wings were treated as maximum security and had a three-stage escalation phase. Patrols among the cell blocks were all heavily equipped for congested riots including powersuits, CREP canons, and numb-rods.
Should an escalated threat emerge that the normal guards could not contain, fireteams armed with live ammunition could respond to fire upon a riot or other attackers.
The final escalation was rarely activated. Should all containment measures fail and one or more staging wings were lost and under prisoner control, an ENF detachment group could respond from a Kuiper patrol route and be onsite within thirty minutes depending on Pluto’s current orbit.
With Pluto being within orbit of the Kuiper belt itself, it was common for pirate and raider groups to attack or constantly threaten the stations, and even the ground facilities on the surface. The prison housed thousands of convicted pirates, criminal networks, and even gangs from the vile undercities of Earth. Not to mention the alliances and rivalries already brewing from within the prison itself. The station was always ready for anything that could be thrown at it. Almost anything.
Marcus Tariot laid in his cot bundled in blankets staring at the ceiling, drifting slowly into madness as he had no choice but to listen to his new cellmate.
“Eatin’ was good,” Ricketts said. He stood in the eight by eight cell with his head thumping against the wall, his forehead already starting to trickle blood. “You had your nasty packet foods, but I liked the flesh. I considered meself a meateater. Dog. Cat. Rat. People. We’re a bit gamey. Tough even. But you soak ‘em in a pig blood broth for a day or two, salted, they boil up right as rain.”
“You don’t say…” Tariot sighed as he looked at his arm in a brace. He couldn’t help but think of the imprisonment that was awaiting him up above. “I’m sure you must miss that succulent man-flesh, don’tcha?”
“I could get anything I wanted. I was a War Chief for Wargame, you know. You can live like a king down there. Or rot like a carcass.”
Tariot peeked at the ex-Earth ganger and saw dozens of tattoos and scars. His teeth were several different shades. Yellowed, white, black, silver capped. Many of them he picked from fallen enemies.
“So were you a rotting carcass or a king? I’m having a tough time.” Tariot jested.
Ricketts pushed himself from the wall and smiled at him before making his way to his cot. Normally, on Earth, anyone who gave a remark like that would be his lunch, but even the undereducated and over angered ganger knew his goose was finally cooked.
“I wasn’t just a War Chief, little man. I was Wargame’s best commander. We was gearin’ up for some heavy killin’ in Red Sector. But some infiltrator ruined it for me. What was it you was?”
Tariot motioned his finger in the air, making incisions to vital organs of an imaginary cadaver.
“I was a doctor,” Tariot said.
“The healin’ type or the killin’ type? I’ve seen loads of doctors that can’t do nothin’ more than cock up a surgery. Killed myself three because they kept screwin’ up me pearl teeth.”
“The creating type. I studied as a geneticist, minored in virology. Specialized in gene splicing after that.”
Ricketts leaned up from his bed, confused.
“What is it that you sliced, you say?” Ricketts said.
Tariot chuckled at the ganger’s lack of basic knowledge. He thought he may as well have been talking to an infant.
“You must have been makin’ the big creds, eh?”
“I was. I was the best theoretical and applied geneticist at one point. I even worked at High Science for a time. But my projects made the executives nervous. Splicing Auroran fish, with Earth’s apes, with human DNA. Hybridization, mutations. Too inhumane. Soon, no institution took me seriously. They blackballed me. Destroyed my reputation. Started making credits on the dark market. Finally took a bad job. Fucked it up, and now here I am. Part of me is glad. That was a client I wouldn’t want to be around to upset.”
Ricketts mouth was hanging open, his face largely perplexed by Tariot’s fancy talk.
“So… what was it you sliced again?”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter now, does it?” Tariot said as he shook his head.
One of the many guards of the staging block made his way around again to their cell.
“Hey, shut up in there, will ya’?!” the guard yelled. The two cellmates turned to look at him through the hard-light shield in between them and the guard. “I’m glad this shield keeps the smell in. You must smell like a six-foot piece of fried rhino shit Ricketts. If you have to vomit Doctor; I suggest you swallow it. Chow and grab ass time ain’t for another four hours. No raping in the cells, fuckfaces!”
The guard walked away and berated more inmates as he continued down the block. Tariot rested his head back on his cot.
“Some people shouldn’t be allowed the luxury of oxygen,” Tariot said.
“Ox and head? What’s that?”
“Oxygen, Ricketts! I thought you were from Earth-”
Suddenly, the power failed, leaving the cell blocks and the hall outside dark. The hard-light shielding that kept the prisoners contained flickered slightly as the redundant power system kicked on almost instantly, keeping the shields on and the prisoners contained. Red emergency lights then illuminated the halls. The patrolling guards began to move closer together as the chatter in the cell blocks began to in
crease.
“Sit and shut the fuck up!” One of the guards shouted at the prisoners.
They began to breathe heavier as the shields began to flicker again but the prisoners dared not try to pass them until they were confident they were off, as they could be eviscerated if the shield caught them in it.
“We’re gonna’ bleed you, guards!” One of the prisoners shouted.
“I’m gonna’ rip his balls off!” Yet another inmate said.
The guards all clicked open their numb-rods and unholstered their CREP pistols as the shields began to flicker constantly. The numbrods could strike a prisoner with a stasis charge that could make a prisoner go limp with paralysis for hours.
“Get ready for some old-fashioned corralling, boys,” another guard said.
Their own breathing began to drown out the constant shouting of the prisoners and their eyes became fixated on the shields as they began to flicker more constantly. The period of delay in between flickers increasing every second and soon, they shut off completely.
***
Warden Crusoe spit out his coffee when he saw Wing Thirty-Seven’s fusion power station explode in a green and blue light. From the control tower, his control staff could monitor every wing’s subsystems, security footage and more, but he had a bird’s eye view of thirty-seven from the tower.
“Son of a bitch!” Crusoe said.
The staff began looking at all the warning indicators regarding the explosion. One of the newer staff members immediately made Crusoe aware.
“Sir, thirty-seven’s power station-”
“I know, goddammit! Is auxiliary power online?”
The recruit saw the redundant power systems were indeed online and one hundred percent stable. “Yes, sir. No containment breaches detected.”
Virion_The Black Cell Page 23
