“Let Doran go,” Tag said, his chest heaving. A cough tickled at the back of his throat, the blood from his nosebleed congealing as it made its way down. His finger traced around the trigger guard and settled over the trigger. “Blank, this isn’t right. Let her go.”
A sudden pallor washed over Blank’s face. His grip loosened, and he backed away from Doran. She gasped, clutching at her throat where red finger marks were already forming.
“Over there,” Tag said, gesturing to the corner of the room. He had half a mind to call an emergency team down here immediately, but there was another voice that whispered at him not to do it. He didn’t know who to trust right now. “Admiral Doran, are you all right?”
Doran coughed. “Son of a bitch,” she said, her voice husky. “Blank is insane. I’m not in bed with the Collectors.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Blank said. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re all traitors.”
Tag gave the rear admiral a sharp look. The man had been acting strangely ever since the interrogation began, hurling wild accusations and sweating profusely. He decided to try a gambit. “Blank, are your men going to kill my people, too?”
Blank didn’t respond, but his eye twitched, giving him away.
“They are, aren’t they? Call off your men or I’ll shoot you.”
“No,” Blank said. Sweat still trickled down his face, mixing with the stream of blood from a cracked lip. “You wouldn’t shoot me in cold blood, Doctor. You’re supposed to be saving lives, not taking them. You don’t know what you’re dealing with. Best thing you can do is walk away from this now.”
“Call your people off now!” Tag yelled at Blank.
Blank shook his head then ducked just as Tag pulled the trigger. Pulsefire splashed against the bulkhead, leaving dark gouges. Wheeling around, he kept the gun on Blank, but the rear admiral had crawled under the table.
“Face me, you coward,” Tag muttered. “I want answers.”
A chair spilled backward as Blank emerged on the opposite side of the table. A pulse rifle glinted in his hand, and Tag saw the narrow mouth of the barrel swinging toward him.
He fired. Blank did, too.
Any gods that might be out there, it’d be great if you helped me out here.
Tag threw himself out of the way, still pulling the trigger. A growl erupted amid the gunfire. Lucky clamped on Blank’s wrist, and she twisted her head back and forth like a housecat playing with a toy mouse. Blank howled in pain and try to shake off the Rizzar, but she was tenacious. Tag fired twice at Blank. The rear admiral dropped the gun as two new wounds darkened against his uniform. He fell backward, clutching the shoulder where he had been shot, Lucky hanging on all the while. Tag lunged over the table and kept the rifle trained on Blank.
“Call your men off,” Tag said, a hot ball of rage smoldering in his chest.
When Blank refused to answer, Tag looked at Lucky. “My Rizzar is just playing with you right now, but at my command she’ll scratch your gods-damned eyes out.”
As if to confirm the threat, Lucky growled and bit down harder on the rear admiral’s wrist. “Need... wrist terminal,” Blank grunted.
“Lucky,” Tag said.
The Rizzar let go of Blank immediately. Her intense stare never strayed from Blank. He started to bring the wrist terminal to his mouth. There was a glint of something in Blank’s eyes. Something that didn’t make sense. Victory.
With a swift kick, Tag knocked the man’s wrist away before he could speak. “Take it off and hand it to me, asshole. Like you said, I’m a goddamned doctor, not an idiot.”
Blank looked as though he were about to refuse. Lucky’s scales bristled, and her claws extended, scraping the floor. Without another word, Blank pulled the wrist terminal from his arm and threw it to Tag.
“Go ahead,” Blank said. “You win.”
Tag cursed. Whoever was working with Blank expected Tag to be dead already. Hearing his voice over the comms wouldn’t help anything. They’d probably execute his crew and then rush in here to help Blank. Maybe if Doran gave the order, it would buy him some time. The enemy wouldn’t know whether the plan had succeeded yet, gotten called off, or failed altogether.
Still training the rifle on Blank, he knelt next to Doran.
“Admiral,” Tag asked. “I need you to order a halt on the other interrogations. Whatever you need to say to get them to stop. Please.”
She nodded, bringing herself up to sit a little straighter against the bulkhead. After a fit of coughing, she took the wrist terminal from Tag. “Code Beta lockdown,” she managed to croak. “Code Beta lockdown, initiated by Alpha Delta.”
Tag expected to hear panic outside or hatches crunching shut. But instead he was met with only silence. For a second, he wondered if he had made a terrible mistake, if Doran was keeping him and his crew locked away in the belly of the Montenegro while the Collectors continued their devastating campaign to conquer the known universe.
“Lockdown?” he asked. “What does ‘Code Beta’ mean?”
“A failsafe,” Doran said. She put one hand on the table and started to pull herself up. Tag leaned in to help, offering a hand, but she waved him off. “It means one of you is infected, and no one is to enter or leave the interrogation chambers. We’re in a holding pattern until I issue orders.”
Blank shot her a look filled with malice but said nothing. His hands were clamped over his shoulder. The wounds weren’t fatal, and the pulsefire had effectively cauterized most of the blood vessels around them.
“So what do we do now?” Tag asked. Despite his reservations, he approached Blank. The man winced when Tag tore the fabric off one of the rear admiral’s sleeves. He fashioned a bandage out of it and wrapped it around Blank’s shoulder, putting pressure on the wound to stem the bleeding. A groan of pain slipped from Blank’s clenched jaw.
“I’ll call Blank’s marines into the main corridor,” Doran said, “and sort this out.”
Tag frowned. “Maybe this is a stupid question, but won’t they know something else is up with all the pulsefire in here?”
“Soundproofed,” Doran replied. “Meant to keep classified info from leaking.”
“Good,” Tag said as he finished bandaging Blank’s wrist with another strip of cloth. He moved to Harsia and the technician in the white coat, checking each of their wrists for a pulse. They were gone, as were the four marines. “What about Blank?”
“Keep watch on him,” Doran said, her voice still sounding huskier than usual. Straightening her collar in a failed attempt to obscure the marks around her neck, she stood by the door. “I’m going to figure out what in the three hells is going on.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Admiral Doran had left Tag with two of the rifles. She strapped one of the remaining pulse rifles across her back and carried the other in the crook of her arm. Doran left the door to the interrogation room slightly ajar so that Tag could hear what was going on beyond the soundproofed walls. The echoes of boots cracking against the floor announced the arrival of Blank’s marines. He heard a smattering of voices, at first confused, then angry. Someone began shouting. All the while, Blank stared at Tag. The man’s face was pale, though whether from blood loss, fury, or fear Tag couldn’t tell. The rear admiral had just committed high treason, and whatever happened to Blank next would not be pleasant.
Gunshots boomed outside, followed by more yells and what sounded like a brief scuffle. Lucky hissed, running to Tag and standing before him protectively. If Doran failed, if Blank’s recruits attempted to carry out their mission, then he needed to be ready to save his crew himself.
He heard the heavy beat of footfalls approaching the half-open door. An unfamiliar female marine walked in. “Doran wants you out there, Captain Brewer. Bring the rear admiral.”
Tag was hesitant for a second before a familiar silver face appeared.
“Everything is under control, Captain,” Alpha said. “Please comply with the marine’s request.” The marine made shor
t work of securing Blank’s hands together. Without any regard for Blank’s injuries, she hoisted him to his feet. Blank couldn’t stand, much less take a single step, and he crumpled against the marine. She simply dragged him out into the main corridor as he moaned.
“That is not the correct protocol for treating an injured patient,” Alpha said, watching them.
“I don’t think she views him as a patient,” Tag said. “It’s hard to be sympathetic after Blank tried to kill Admiral Doran. And us.”
“Your explanation makes sense.” Alpha’s beady black eyes traced over Tag’s injuries. “You are hurt, Captain. May I give you an assessment?”
“I’ll live,” Tag said, wiping blood from his lips. “We need to make sure Doran does, too.”
Then Tag saw the burnt holes in Alpha’s chassis. Multiple gouges marred the alloy skin across her left arm and abdomen. “Alpha, are you okay?”
“My vital components were missed,” she said. “I have had to reroute motor control in my left arm, and I will need revisions later. I’ve detected a small leak from one of my vessel analogues. Most of the damage has been patched by the self-repairing systems, but I fear you may need to intervene to ensure the repairs are adequate.”
“Of course,” Tag said. “Is everyone else okay?”
“They are,” Alpha said.
He wanted to ask what had happened in the other interrogation room, but his questions would have to wait. More pressing was the need to round up all the traitors and figure out how deep this betrayal went. He did his best to saunter confidently into the main chamber, ready to engage in another fight if need be.
But in the main corridor, it appeared things had already been taken care of. Doran stood at the end of the white-walled chamber, light beaming down over her. The crooked grin she gave Tag seemed to shave a decade or two off her age despite the half-dried blood covering the side of her face. One set of marines, wearing mixed expressions of confusion and anger, seemed to be guarding another group, who were kneeling with hands secured behind their backs. Several bodies were sprawled across the deck. Pools of crimson formed beneath them, and Tag didn’t bother checking for vital signs.
“That was far easier than I expected,” Doran said. She punched a button on a wall-terminal, and the hatches opened. “This droid of yours is handy in a fight. I don’t suppose you’ve got an extra one lying around?”
“I’m more than a droid,” Alpha corrected her. “I’m a sentient synth-bio life-form, contrary to the droids manufactured and employed within the SRE.”
“My apologies, Alpha,” Doran said, then turned back to Tag. “I was going to squeeze the truth out of these traitors, but Alpha had a better idea. People can lie, but data, fortunately, doesn’t.” She kicked at a loose wrist terminal near her feet. Several others lay on the deck beside it. “Turns out Blank was using a private message encryption application to organize this little coup. Alpha was able to locate the application and isolate the terminals of the guilty ones.”
“It was my pleasure,” Alpha said.
Tag’s crew emerged from the hatches, gazing around in alarm. Smiling, Sofia reached Tag’s side first, and her fingers brushed his arm. “Looks like our suspicions of collaborators on the Montenegro were right.”
“It would seem that way,” Doran said. “Perhaps you can enlighten us, Rear Admiral Blank. What was this all about?”
Blank stared hard at Doran. “You’re making a mistake. Listening to these... these rats. Your choices here might well damn the rest of humanity. My men and I are on the right side of history. We have embraced the promises of a better future, while you condemn us all to certain extinction.”
“Sounds like a goddamned cult leader,” Bull said. Sumo, Lonestar, and Gorenado fell in beside him. Coren joined them last, looking wary.
“Might not be too far from the truth.” Doran pointed at the marines still loyal to the SRE. “Lock the prisoners in a spare quarantine quarter.”
“What about him, Admiral?” a marine asked, gesturing toward Blank.
“I’d like to ask him some questions first.”
The marines filed out of the chamber with their prisoners. Then one of Blank’s men dropped.
“He’s gone unconscious!” the female marine who’d liberated Tag yelled.
One by one, the other prisoners crumpled. Red foam bubbled from their mouths. Tag ran to them, but he could already see it was too late. All the information they might have possessed was gone with them.
“Son of a bitch,” Tag said.
Doran stared hard at Blank. Tag expected the man to fall over, frothing like the prisoners, but he simply glared at them with undisguised hatred.
“I see you were too much of a coward to go out with your men,” Doran said as her marines cleared the bodies away.
The crew of the Argo was alone with Admiral Doran and Rear Admiral Blank. This time no one sat around a conference table, and the only person who wasn’t standing was Blank, who was propped against a bulkhead. Lucky paced near the man’s feet as if daring him to make a move.
Doran strode toward him. She wasn’t particularly tall, nor was she built with anything near the physical power of a marine. Her age was evident in the wrinkles around her eyes and the gray that streaked her hair. But in that moment, she struck a more menacing figure than an ice god on Eta-Five.
Doran spent the next few hours interrogating Blank with the help of a few marines. While Tag had offered their assistance, she had refused it, saying it was probably better that a doctor wasn’t present. In the meantime, she asked Alpha and Coren to scrounge through the encrypted communications between Blank and the marines who’d been complicit in the assassination plot. Even after Tag had cleaned up most of his injuries, a headache had taken hold, throbbing in rhythm with his heartbeat.
“Found anything yet?” Tag asked Alpha and Coren as they hunched over a pair of terminals.
“Not much more than we already knew,” Coren said. He pushed away from the terminal. “It seems the application erased all messages after a set amount of time, so all I’ve recovered are the details of the Argo’s arrival and our interrogation, along with the plan to execute us all at Blank’s signal. Blank said he would initiate the plan as soon as the results of the nanite-detection tests were revealed. If we all received negative results, they were to kill us. If anyone had positive results, those people were supposed to be spared.”
“Sounds like he was collaborating with the Collectors,” Sofia said.
Tag massaged his temples, willing the headache to subside. “Was anyone giving Blank his orders? Someone from higher up?”
“That is what strikes me as strange,” Coren said. “Blank wasn’t the one orchestrating this, even though he was responsible for letting the others know the results of the test.”
“Who was then?” Tag asked.
“It appears to have been this man,” Alpha said, answering for Coren. She pointed one silver finger at Perry’s body.
“What in the three hells?” Bull folded his arms over his chest, glaring at the dead man. “Piss-poor excuse for a marine. You sure this guy wasn’t with Mil Intel?”
“Nothing on his terminal seems to indicate any affiliation with military intelligence,” Alpha said.
“Lemme take a look.” Bull sauntered over to Alpha, and together they scrolled through the terminal. Bull periodically tutted his disapproval and shook his head.
“Damn,” he said. “Pretty standard career in the marines. Guard and escort duty all over the galaxy.”
“Wonder what made the guy flip.” Sumo sat nearby, her eyes scanning back and forth over the dead marines.
“Did he get hit with the nanites?” Lonestar asked.
Tag pulled up the results of the tests Doran had run. Everyone in the quarantine chamber had been exposed to the same indiscriminate particles. “What’s this guy’s name?”
“Sergeant Quinton Perry,” Alpha replied.
Scrolling down the list, Tag checked out each of th
e marines on guard duty in the quarantine chamber. He found Perry’s profile and tapped on it.
“Nothing,” Tag said. “Guy was clean. Unless the results were tampered with, it seems none of Blank’s marines were controlled by nanites.”
“Suppose it makes sense,” Sofia said. “It’d be hell to constantly tamper with the stream of data coming from this room every time someone tried pulling up the nanites-detection results. And I’m sure Doran screened these guys extensively.”
“But the one thing she couldn’t screen was their thoughts,” Gorenado said, his eyes closed as he leaned back against the bulkhead. “Probably a lot easier to cover their tracks if these people are willing collaborators and not Drone-Humans.”
Tag rubbed his forehead. “If nanites didn’t force them to join the collaborators’ side, what convinced them?”
Slumping into a seat, Sofia drummed her fingers across the table’s clean, white surface. “There’s got to be motivation, right? Money?”
“I’ve accessed all their financial accounts,” Coren said. “Nothing sticks out to me as particularly odd.”
Bull looked over Coren’s shoulder at the display. “Pay looks about right for a marine.”
“Besides,” Sumo said, “we didn’t join for the money. Most of us are in it to protect people and serve the SRE. You’d be hard-pressed to find that many marines in one place willing to sell out.”
“Damn right,” Lonestar said. “I’d be making three or four times as much back at the ranch instead of risking my ass out here. And I know, because my pops reminds me every chance he gets.”
Tag tried to push away the fog caused by his headache, looking for the answer. Most people serving a career in the SRE—himself included—could be making a great deal more if they transferred to the private sector. But they all had chosen this life—him, Sofia, Bull and his squad—because they had wanted some kind of fulfillment. A desire that couldn’t be satisfied by the number in their credit accounts.
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