Banks glanced at the others and saw no support. “Yes, ma’am, it will be done.”
“General, I want martial law lifted as soon as possible, preferably within forty-eight hours. The citizens had no part in this and they shouldn’t be punished for it. The army and Marines will continue a presence in the streets for the next week. I need to go on ONElink tonight and calm our people. Captain Banks, liaison with the media cartel and set up a Union-wide linkcast for 22:30 hours this evening, Esterkeep time.”
“What are you going to tell the public?” asked Carson.
“I thought I’d give the truth a shot.”
After a few other details, the meeting adjourned with everyone leaving the room except Darracott and Sanchez.
Renata waited until the door closed before speaking. “Leo, is there any news from Earth?”
“Not yet. Even after whatever happens, it will take a tachyon packet three weeks to reach Rusalka and then get back to us via the Gate network.”
The new First Consul looked at her datapad. “I see here that your niece is one of the OMI operatives on the ground there, on Earth. You must be proud of her.”
“I am, and plenty nervous. But, Etta’s very sharp, and she’s with an experienced operative. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure she will,” said Darracott, trying to reassure him. “It’s disconcerting to know that as serious as the situation is here, the circumstances in Sol might even be worse for us in the long run, and we don’t even know what’s happening there.”
Sanchez nodded in agreement. “Rennie, you should get some rest.”
“Can’t right now. My staff and I have a speech to write and we’ve only got two hours to do it in.” As Darracott rose to her feet, she gave him a quick hug and started toward the door before pausing. “Leo, did you ever find out her name?”
“Yes,” he said, pulling the rank insignia from his pocket and looking down at them. “Amanda. Amanda Nash.”
* * * *
Union heavy cruiser Tempest
Hyperspace
Plasma beams sliced across the hull of the Tempest as scores of casualty reports poured in. The bridge was in anarchy. Captain Pettigrew sat in his command chair barking orders.
“Helm, come starboard to course two-zero-zero mark seven and increase speed to seventy-five percent I-drive. Mr. Swoboda, fire all missiles and discharge all pulse cannons!”
“But captain,” Swoboda shouted, to be heard over the confusion, “all missiles are exhausted and the pulse cannons have been destroyed!”
Pettigrew sat perfectly still, with a look of disbelief on his face. “It should be working. Our tactics should be working,” he declared to no one in particular.
“Abandon ship!” cried Taylin Adams into the shipwide intercom. “Get to the life pods and save yourselves! All hands abandon ship!” The Commander fled her station and ran for the nearest hatchway. Tempest lurched as another enemy blast exploded against her hull. The crew on all decks, at all stations, panicked and scattered in every direction—but not the Captain. Pettigrew sat on the bridge as his ship crumbled around him.
“Our tactics are sound. We deceived the enemy. We just need to wait a little while longer. They’ve fallen into our trap!” Pettigrew yelled as he gripped the arms of his command chair. Suddenly, a chain reaction of explosions made their way from aft toward the bridge, as flames and violence engulfed—”
He screamed and thrashed about in the darkness, as people do when awakening from a nightmare. His hands went to his face to check if this was reality, to try to wake up. Something stirred in the bed next to him.
“Ship—lights on low,” a female voice called out. As the lights came up softly, Gina Reece moved in the bed and reached to comfort him. “Baby, it was just a dream. It’s all right,” she said. “I’m right here next to you, honey. You’re all right, Park, you’re all right.”
Parker Knox shook his head. “Whew! Another one. Gods, that makes every night this week.” Knox climbed out of bed and went to the washbasin to splash water on his face. Being the executive office had its perks, including a nicer cabin than any other crewmember save one. It also meant the privacy to entertain.
“We fell asleep again,” said Reece.
Knox blinked his eyes and dried his face with a towel. “I know. No wonder we always drift off afterward—you wear me out, girl.”
“Why, Commander, you’ll make me blush.”
“I doubt it,” he said. Reece scrunched up her face at him, not that he cared. He was getting what he wanted from the young ensign—sex, and a spy in the engineering department.
He had met Gina Reece the last night of shore leave on Rusalka. She had been the only junior officer to be receptive to his advances, and the ensign was stationed in engineering. Engineering was ruled over by Commander Mullenhoff, a Pettigrew loyalist if ever there was one. Knox wanted Gina’s eyes and ears in that department. As for the rest of her body, he wouldn’t let it go to waste either.
Reece was up and getting dressed. “There are only two things wrong with falling asleep afterward.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, one day I’m going to be late for my shift and Commander Mellonhead is going to have my butt in a bag,” she said while pulling on her pants. Knox snickered at her name for the chief engineer. He knew it was immature, but he didn’t like Mullenhoff, so screw her.
“And the second? You said there were two things.”
Reece walked over to hijack the washbasin and mirror and continued talking as she primped. “The bad dreams, your nightmares. Have you seen anyone in sick bay about them?”
Knox laughed as he pulled on some underpants and sat down on the edge of his bed. “Are you crazy? Within a day, it would be all over the ship. Too many people are already conspiring against me, the last thing I want is to hand them ammunition. Hey, are you even paying attention?”
“Uh huh, I’m listening,” murmured Reece, clearly not, as her attention was on the reflection in the mirror.
“Hey, Gina, can you get me another bottle of those sleeping pills?”
“Yeah, I can, but you want to be careful with those.”
“I need them. When I take the pills, I don’t have the nightmares. If the captain knew I was having dreams like this, he’d probably use it as grounds for relieving me.” Knox picked up his uniform. “He‘s so threatened by me, it isn’t even funny. You know what Pettigrew told me? He said he’d never heard of my father. The liar, he knows damn well who Weston Knox was—a greater captain than he could ever hope to be.”
“Sounds like maybe he’s a little insecure, babe.”
“That’s an understatement. He told me he was afraid of what was coming up at Sol—some anxiety, he called it. Do you believe that? Our own captain admitting something like that to his XO. My father would never have been afraid before a battle, and neither am I.” He paused and then added, “I’m not afraid of the battle—I’m afraid of him. We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t get us all killed with one of those brilliant tactics of his.”
“Someday you’ll have your own ship, baby.”
“Uh huh,” Knox agreed. “I bet plenty of people on Tempest wish I was in command of this ship.”
“Probably so. Have you had a chance to look over the duty rosters for next week yet? Make sure Engineering Team Three doesn’t get last dog watch, will’ya? Gods, I hate pulling that watch.”
“Yeah,” he said as he wrestled with a difficult shirt button. “You know, people are starting to notice how Team Three is getting more than their share of plum watches. I’m starting to get complaints.”
She moved close to Knox to help him with the button. “Let that bitch Adams take care of the complaints, and you just take care of me,” Reece said. Noticing he hadn’t zipped his trousers yet, she held the crotch of his pants with one hand, while the other carefully and slowly slid the zipper upward. “And I’ll take care of you.”
Knox grinned and wrapped his arms tightly ar
ound her, giving her a long kiss.
“And don’t worry about Pettigrew, baby, I’m sure he knows what he’s doing,” she said, pecking him on the cheek. “Gotta go—and hun, don’t forget about my shift for next week.”
As she went through the hatchway, Knox muttered to himself. “Glad you think he knows what he’s doing, because I’m not so sure anymore.”
20: Survivors
Government Compound
Bakkoa, Earth
The day after the Threshold was destroyed, the sun rose on a new Bakkoa. Everybody in the colony had heard about the accident and everyone in the colony knew they were on their own. There would be no reunification, no support from the Homeworld, no return to Rhuzar. Everyone they ever knew on the other side was as good as dead to them.
The Lord Governor had addressed the settlement last evening before the nighttime power down. He told them they should no longer think of themselves as the Common Children, or even as Rhuzari, because they were now Earthers and Bakkoa was the new capital of Earth. They would spread out to other locations on this planet and build more cities. They would construct mighty war fleets to conquer nearby worlds, adding those populations and resources to their own. They would someday be mightier than the old Empire ever had been. And, while Sheel did not quite proclaim himself emperor during the speech, his words made it clear to all exactly who would be leading them.
The first day of the new reality was overcast and somewhat cool. After working all morning in his office, the leader of Earth decided to take lunch in the courtyard, despite the crispness of the day. Just as he started his meal, Naar arrived to join him.
“We’ve been looking for you all morning. Where have you been? There’s so much work to do now,” grumbled Sheel as she sat down. “We have a galaxy to conquer,” he added, only partly in jest.
“Glad to know I’ve been missed. Pass the potatoes please, I missed breakfast this morning and I’m famished.”
A frustrated Sheel complied. “Seriously my dear, you need to be available this afternoon. Fleetmaster Haldryn is arriving planetside and he insists on speaking with the prisoners. Haldryn’s become obsessed with finding Carr’s ship in order to gain access to its stealth technology. You need to be here when he arrives. Sooner or later, we’re going to have to deal with Haldryn, so flirt with the man and try to get close to him.”
“Mission accomplished.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Haldryn’s been in the city since this morning. He knocked on my apartment door just after nine,” Naar said while buttering a roll.
Sheel was intrigued by this development. “What did he want?”
“Emotional support.”
“What?”
“He was distraught about the loss of his wife and children, the fact that he would never see them again. He came to me so that I could help him deal with his grief.”
Sheel already knew the answer, but he asked the question anyway. “And did you? Help him grieve, I mean?”
“Oh, yes, I helped him grieve—twice. The man was very distressed,” she said wearing an impish grin.
So, the fleetmaster may not be that much of a problem after all, thought Sheel. “More potatoes, my dear?”
* * * *
Carr awoke back in the detention cell that he had occupied before his interview with Governor Sheel. He blacked out after being injected with whatever Dr. Devi put in him and remembered worrying about the after effects just before he went under. Would he be groggy when he came to, have a headache, or wake up at all? Other than that, he remembered nothing. He didn’t recall being asked questions, let alone whether he gave answers. One minute he was there and now he was here.
How long had he slept? There was no way of telling. He got up from his cot and felt surprisingly good, as if he’d gotten a refreshing night of sleep. Perhaps he had slumbered a full night, which was a lot of time he couldn’t get back. A rendezvous with Task Force 19 before they went into battle was looking less and less likely.
Looking around, the room appeared the same as it was last time he was here, with one big difference. There was another prisoner now, in the cell that was to the right and diagonal from his. For an instant, he thought it might be Sanchez, but it wasn’t. The new arrival looked to be a young male, lying on his side and facing away from Carr. Carr tried to roust him, but the boy did not respond. Asleep or knocked out, or maybe just frightened, Carr couldn’t tell.
It suddenly struck him how antiquated these cells were. They were constructed with old-fashioned metal bars in the front and concrete block walls on three sides. On most worlds, modern jail cells were small nentrocite walled cubicles with a locked, electrically charged door. Perhaps here they just threw together what they could when building the colony. At least he had a toilet and not just a bucket. He even had a small sink with running cold water—five star accommodations. Metal bars or solid walls, either was just as confining. At least the bars gave him a glimpse into the main room and the other cells.
Carr had been awake for maybe three-quarters of an hour when the detention room door opened. A green-shirted guard entered, followed by the one they called Tharp, followed by Etta Sanchez. Another large greenshirt was roughly pushing her along as they opened the cell to Carr’s left.
“Wait,” said Tharp. “Put her in with the superspy.”
The guards looked at each other. “But Tharp, the orders are—”
“Do it!” the boy snarled. The big guard swiped some kind of keycard to open the cell door and then brutally shoved Sanchez into the cubicle with Carr. Locking the door after her, Tharp snickered. “Might as well enjoy yourself superspy. In a few days, you’re both just gonna be dead meat anyway.” All the greenshirts seemed delighted at Tharp’s wit as they exited the detention room.
Only when he grabbed her to keep her from falling did Carr see what bad shape Sanchez was in. Her lip was busted and she had a black left eye, as well as a multitude of bruises.
Sanchez looked up at his face. “Hey, Carr, you know how I said this job was fun?”
“Etta, easy does it. Here, lay down,” he said as he helped her.
Sanchez collapsed into a heap on the cot. “It wasn’t as fun today.”
Carr tore off a piece of the cot sheet and soaked it in the sink. As he gently tried to sooth the wounds on Sanchez’s face, the anger built up in him. He had always tried to think of things like this as part of the job, but somehow now it was different.
“Any broken bones?”
“I don’t think so. It’s not as bad as it looks.”
Carr did the best he could, wiping off blood here and there and wishing he had some ice for the swelling. He closely inspected her left eye for signs of blood inside it, thankfully finding none. Her eye and lip wasn’t all that was on his mind, but he didn’t quite know how to ask.
“Etta, did they—touch you?”
“Could I have a drink of water?” she asked in a raspy voice
Sitting down on the cot with a cup of water in his hand, he elevated her head onto his lap so she could drink easier.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
She took another sip as he held the cup for her. “No, they didn’t. I thought they might, but beating me seemed to entertain them nicely. The big one hit me and the other two watched. Oh, that water’s good. Nice and cool…”
Sanchez closed her eyes and drifted off. At first, Carr was concerned that she might have a concussion but decided that she was just tired and let her sleep. He stayed still and let her use his lap as a pillow while considering the problem of how to escape. After about thirty minutes, a potential answer to his problem walked through the detention room door. It was Fleetmaster Haldryn, along with Naar.
Standing up to greet his guests, he tried to move slowly so to not wake Sanchez, but she had already stirred from her brief nap.
“I’m all right,” Sanchez assured him as she slowly, and painfully, sat up and rested her back against the wall.
> “Well, well,” said Carr in his most scathing tone, “if it isn’t the little tin soldier. You know, for civilized folk, your people have a funny way of entertaining themselves. If you’re here to find a woman to beat on, this one’s already been used. Looks like you brought one of your own, though.” Little did Carr know how close he was to the truth. Frank had decided the only way to make something happen was to stir the pot. A mentor once told him that in situations like this, pick the biggest blockhead in the opposition and bait him into doing something stupid. Haldryn looked like he fit the bill.
“Enough of this nonsense, Carr. Let’s speak plainly, shall we?” said Haldryn. “I need to access the stealth technology of your vessel before we engage your fleets. Admittedly, not much could threaten my forces, but I believe in being well prepared. I also want you and your companion to tell us everything you know about the Underground here in Bakkoa.”
“Sorry friend, I don’t know anything about the Underground, and I’m going to need my ship to get back to Sarissa.”
“I am NOT your friend,” the infuriated man said. “Give me the location of your ship and I will order that your lives be spared. Otherwise, I’m afraid you’re both in for a long and painful death. Tell me what I want to know and do it now, before I reconsider my offer.”
“I thought you knew all this stuff already, or didn’t Doctor Devi’s interrogation go as planned. I was there, but I don’t remember much.”
Naar spoke up. “I was there too. All you did was fall asleep.”
“The doctor did warn us in advance that the drug might not work,” said the fleetmaster. “Soon, we will be moving on to other interrogation methods, and I swear Carr, I’m going to be there to watch you literally spill your guts.”
“Big words from the man on the other side of the cell door.” Carr motioned with his hands, as if to invite Haldryn into the cell. “Care to step into my office to discuss it further?”
“No, Carr—I’ll leave you to the torturers. I know you believe that Sarissan fleet of yours is going to get here and save you both, but it’s not going to happen.” Carr’s expression must have betrayed him. “Oh, yes, I know all about it,” continued Haldryn. “One of our patrols spotted them forming up just outside the system. When those ships jump in, my forces are going to slaughter every last ship.”
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