by Rick Partlow
“Call back the investigation team,” McKay instructed. “Have them report back to the outpost. Get the platoon with them to set up a perimeter around the outpost buildings and report back to me when it’s done. We may not be alone here, Dodd.”
“Aye, sir,” there was an urgency to the man’s voice now as he signed off.
“You think they will attack here?” Podbyrin asked, voice wavering. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead despite the cool temperatures.
“Jock,” McKay spoke to the big NCO instead. “Take Colonel Podbyrin to the shuttle and…”
“Colonel McKay!” A voice…he thought it was Commander Villanueva’s voice…came over his ‘link. “We’ve got…”
Whatever she’d been about to say was lost in a thundering explosion that shook dust from the ceiling and echoed through the woods around them.
“Bozhemoi!” Podbyrin swore, ducking instinctively as the explosion was followed by the faint sound of gunfire in the distance, first to their front and then more distantly to the rear. Jock crouched down in the doorway, scanning the immediate area but not seeing anything.
Too fucking late, McKay snarled at himself silently, a cold surge of fear welling up in his gut that he hadn’t felt since a Protectorate drop pod had almost landed on his head six years ago on Aphrodite. I was too fucking late.
Chapter Ten
“And so,” Colonel Lee clasped his hands in his lap, looking as if he were trying very, very hard to avoid panicking, “We have…we have confirmed your findings.” It was a mark of how serious the situation was in his eyes that Ari, Lee and Hassan were meeting in the Colonel’s office instead of someplace more unofficial. The Colonel was squirming in his chair uncomfortably, while Hassan Ali sat morosely by his side, looking as if his world had collapsed around him. “We dug deeper, in the right places, and it was there, just as you said. We…we have a serious problem now.”
And it only took you four fucking days, Ari thought, trying to hide a sneer.
“We have to kill her,” Hassan snarled, slamming a fist into the arm of his chair. “I will do it myself, with my own hands.”
“That aside,” Ari spoke for the first time since entering the office, keeping his voice calm and measured, “how does this affect our plans? Does she know enough to stop us?”
“The bitch knows enough to have us arrested!” Hassan Ali blurted. “Being in jail would stop us fairly certain.”
“Yet we are not in jail, my friend,” Ari pointed out to him. “That tells us that either she wants to collect more evidence, or, more likely, she has, as my American friends used to say, bigger fish to fry.” He looked to Colonel Lee. “She knows this plan goes beyond and above your position, sir, and that is her target. She knows if they arrest you and the rest of us here, the plan could still go forward.”
“This cause does not go above me,” Colonel Lee said peevishly, his anxiety briefly turning to annoyance. Then he sighed. “But it does go beyond me…” He glanced at Hassan Ali, who shrugged demonstratively.
“If this does not prove he can be trusted,” Hassan said, “I do not know what would.”
“I will lead the Guard in this operation,” Lee asserted, looking back to Ari. “But it does reach beyond the Guard…we could not hope to hold out for long without assistance from other elements of the government and even the private sector. This is about more than what is important to us as Guard officers…when it is finished, many other things will be changed as well.”
Ari was silent for a moment. This wasn’t unexpected…neither he nor Major Stark had ever believed that this was something the Guard could pull off on its own.
“The question I have,” Ari began carefully, “is whether this could all be moved up. If we can start now, before those opposed to us are ready, then even Alida’s infiltration could not stand in our way.”
“That is, unfortunately, not possible,” Lee told him, shaking his head in obvious frustration. “We could advance the timing of the uprising, but not the distraction that will draw the Fleet ships away from the colonies; and, without that distraction, our forces would be vulnerable to orbital bombardment and would be forced to fight Marine reaction platoons. The signal will be sent when the Republic government is decapitated by an orbital strike, and that will happen only when the Fleet returns to Earth.”
Ari nodded thoughtfully. “Such an attack could only be accomplished with the complicity of the Spacefleet. I can only surmise that whatever elements with which we are allied in the Fleet need the time to consolidate their influence.” He glanced up at Colonel Lee, eyes narrowing warily. “Sir, I mean no disrespect by this, but how certain are you of the…steadfastness of our allies? Can they do what they say they will do? Or will they allow us to sacrifice ourselves while they decide if it’s worth it?”
Ari noticed Hassan Ali cast a glance at Lee as if saying I’ve been wondering that myself, but the man held his tongue. “I am convinced they will go through with it.” Lee told him. “It is in their interests even more than ours. The multicorps need cheap labor and the Fleet needs a reason to exist. If we do not reestablish order in the colonies, our whole civilization will collapse and the peasant rabble will sift through the ashes for food and wish for the days when they had the option of leaving this world.”
“You are a far-sighted man,” Ari said, affecting a deep respect. “I can only hope our allies have such vision as well. Yet, I still wonder…how did they ever find the wormhole gates? It has been talked about for years in the Marines, the search for the gate in the asteroid belt, but nothing has ever come of it.”
“Ha!” Ali snorted derisively. “And in whose interest was it to keep that discovery a secret? The multicorps, of course. With the help of the Fleet, they control all access to the star colonies. If people could use the wormhole gateways, anyone who could afford an insystem shuttle could set up shop in the colonies and where would their monopoly be then?”
Ari wasn’t certain he bought the logic of Hassan’s assertion, but he nodded anyway.
“So,” he said, “we are forced to wait…which brings us back to the question: what do you want done with the investigator? If we kill her, her superiors will know we are onto them, and likely come after us immediately.”
“What else can we do?” Hassan Ali demanded, throwing up his hands in frustration.
“She is looking for the next level of this conspiracy,” Ari reminded him. “If we can keep stringing her along, making her think it is within reach…”
“Ah,” Lee said with a smile, “I see where you are going, Captain Al-Masri. We can feed her false intelligence, send her and her people on a wild goose chase looking for a superior I do not have.”
“And hopefully,” Ari added, “we can keep it up long enough that they won’t be in time to stop us.”
“Do you think this will work?” Hassan Ali asked him, his tone doubtful.
“She thinks I trust her,” Ari told him. “However, if you do not approve of this plan, Colonel Lee, I would be willing to kill her myself.”
Lee eyed him a bit suspiciously. “You are involved with her…would you really be able to kill her?”
“I was involved with Alida Hudec,” Ari corrected him. “Alida Hudec doesn’t exist. She used me, and I would be willing to kill her for that alone.”
Lee rubbed his chin, seemingly more comfortable with his situation now than when Ari had walked into the office. “No, I think we will keep our Lieutenant Hudec around for now…we will feed disinformation to her superiors through her. Perhaps something can be salvaged from this after all. Captain Al Masri, can you maintain the fiction of your relationship with her for now? I do not want to give her any reason to think we suspect her true identity.”
“I will do what I must for the cause, Colonel Lee,” Ari said dutifully, concealing his sigh of relief. ”If that is to be our plan, I should get back to my office…we are scheduled for training in an hour.”
“Go, then, Captain,” Lee said with a no
d. “And you have my thanks for your initiative. You may have just saved our cause.”
And more importantly, he thought as he left the office, I may have saved Alida’s life. For now. And now I have to contact Major Stark…because things are so much worse than we thought.
* * *
Shannon Stark hesitated outside the office door, taking a breath to compose herself before she raised her hand to knock.
There was a long silence, and she wondered if perhaps she should leave, but then she heard a soft “Come in,” and the door slid aside silently.
The room was dark, only a sliver of light piercing the gap in the blinds pulled shut over the windows. Valerie O’Keefe-Mulrooney sat alone at her desk, staring into the darkness with darker eyes, the tracks of dried tears evident on her face. Shannon stepped into the office, smoothing down the front of her dress uniform. She’d worn it to the funeral and hadn’t had time to change out of it before receiving the call from Valerie’s secretary. Her hands froze as she felt the dampness on her hip…she had hugged Natalia at the funeral service and the little girl’s tears still stained her uniform. She fought to keep from jumping as the door slid shut behind her.
“Sit down,” Valerie said, nodding at the chair in front of the desk. Her voice was steady and unwavering, her tone as normal as if she were ordering lunch…yet Shannon could see a cold rage in the set of her eyes. “The Capital Police tell me they think Glen was killed because he witnessed the murder of that celebrity scandalmonger Oscar Fuentes. They think the killer had a personal grudge against Fuentes for one of his stories. They already have a list of suspects…people Fuentes embarrassed or hurt who were in the area but don’t have an alibi.” She speared Shannon with a frigid glare. “Is that what you think happened, Shannon?”
Shannon tried not to flinch under the woman’s gaze. “Both Glen and Mr. Fuentes were killed in the one place in the gym where there were no security cameras,” Shannon replied, trying to keep her tone as cool and measured as Valerie’s. “They were both killed with a single stab wound through the eye and into the brain. One wound…surgically precise, before the victim can react. You don’t learn how to do that in a commercial martial arts school or even in the regular military. This was a professional assassin, and an experienced one.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and met Valerie’s gaze. “Glen told me he was going to ask some journalists to look into Vice President Dominguez. See if there was anything strange going on with him or around him.”
“So you’re telling me that the people behind this are the ones who are planning to kill my father,” Valerie stated flatly. Shannon waited for the accusation that she was sure was coming, the dissolution into a screaming fit and the voicing of the cry that had been echoing through her head for days: You got him killed!
But the calm façade remained over the cold rage and Valerie said nothing. “It’s worse than that,” Shannon told her. Her eyes flickered suspiciously around the office. She knew it was secure because she’d overseen the process herself, but at the moment she didn’t feel sure of anything. “We’ve been investigating the Guard mutiny plot and I’ve received reports that indicate that it’s quite real and that it goes far beyond the Colonial Guard. There are elements within the Fleet and the multicorps involved…Valerie, this isn’t a mutiny and it’s not just an assassination attempt. It’s a coup. “
For a moment, Valerie’s ice wall crumbled and her eyes widened with shock and fear.
“Have…have you told my father?”
“Not yet,” Shannon admitted. She shook her head hopelessly. “I honestly don’t know what to tell him. The only conspirators we can name are in the CeeGees and hauling them in would accomplish nothing. There are corporate interests involved, but nearly all the multicorps oppose your father’s emigration policies and we can’t arrest people just because they disagree with the President politically. Hell,” she bit off, “with the possibility of traitors inside the Fleet, I can’t even be a hundred percent sure of my own people…except Tom, of course.”
“If what you’re saying is true,” Valerie interjected, voice still a bit tremulous but now more thoughtful, “even if we break up this plot, we could be looking at a civil war.” She looked up sharply. “But what about Antonov? This happening at the same time as Jason is off chasing after him can’t be a coincidence.”
“Valerie, I can’t be certain right now that Antonov was behind the attack on the outpost. This whole thing could be a setup…the evidence could have been planted by the conspirators to draw our attention away from their plans.”
“Jesus,” Valerie breathed, shaking her head. “What the hell are we going to do, Shannon?”
“Things might get bad, Valerie.” Shannon reached out and took Valerie’s hand, squeezing it warmly. “Take Natalia, go to your cabin in Minnesota and stay there until it’s over. They won’t bother you. Even if…” Shannon winced, hesitant to say the words. “Even if we lose this thing, I doubt they’d come after you there.”
“I can’t just go hide and hope things turn out all right,” Valerie protested. “They killed Glen!”
“And if you get in their way, Valerie, they’ll kill you too…and Natalia will have lost both her parents.”
Shannon could see anger, grief and fear struggling in Valerie’s eyes, only to be replaced by resolve. “I’m a Republic Senator, Shannon. I love my daughter more than anything, and if I have to die to make sure she grows up to enjoy the same freedoms I have, then that’s the price I’ll have to pay. Now, what are we going to do?”
Shannon considered the question for a moment. What could they do? They had no actionable intelligence, just suspicions. And if they tried for more, there would be an assassin sent out for them just as surely she knew that one had been sent to kill Glen…
Shannon’s eyes narrowed. It was a hell of a risk, but the only move she could see that might work. “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do, Valerie. If you really want to stick this thing out, then what we need to do is finish what Glen started.” And God forgive her if it didn’t work.
Chapter Eleven
With an effort of will, Jason McKay pulled control back and forced his mind to work.
“All personnel,” McKay snapped into his ‘link, “report! What’s going on?” There was a transmission that crackled in his earpiece with the muted sounds of gunfire and shouting, but whatever was said was unrecognizable and then nothing. “All right,” McKay looked to the others in the room. “Vinnie, you and Jock head into the forest and find the platoon with the investigation team, get them back here and set up a defensive perimeter here until you hear from me…”
Jock spun around at the sound of running footsteps behind him, but lowered his carbine when he saw it was friendly…two NCOs from the Decatur, their grey armor vests and helmets indicating they were both ship’s security.
“Sir!” The senior of the two---a tall, rangy young man with olive skin visible through the faceplate of his helmet---ran up to McKay, clutching a submachine gun nervously. “We were assigned to guard the outpost…do you know what’s going on?”
“You two,” McKay jabbed a finger at him and the shorter, stocky sergeant with him, “come with me…we’re under attack and we’re heading to the landing zone to make sure the shuttle is secured. Podbyrin, you come with me too, unless you’d rather stay here and take your chances by yourself.”
“No, I think I will come with you.” The Russian shook his head, much calmer than McKay thought he would be. “I don’t suppose you have a spare gun…”
McKay was about to tell him no when Jock surprised him by pulling his sidearm from its holster and handing it to the Russian. “Don’t shoot anyone important,” the big Aussie cracked.
“We’re going, sir,” Vinnie said, motioning for Jock to follow him. Once out of the building, the two of them broke into a run, heading into the forest.
“All right, come on,” McKay motioned to Podbyrin and the two security guards. “I’m in front; Podb
yrin, you stay between them and everyone maintains a ten meter interval. Stick to the side of the trail and keep your eyes open. Go.”
He could tell the senior security NCO wanted to argue with him, but he was the one with combat experience and Colonel or no, he was taking point. He just wished he’d brought his helmet with him from the shuttle; when he’d taken the others on the scout for the infiltration site, he’d thought it was more important to be able to use all his senses and get a feel for his surroundings.
He wanted to run as they headed back up the dirt path to the landing zone, but he held himself to a cautious trot, both to keep the little group together and to avoid running headlong into enemy fire. That gunfire seemed to grow more intense as they approached ever closer to the LZ, punctuated at intervals by explosions that sounded like the detonations of grenades. McKay snuck a quick glance at his ‘link and saw that they were less than a kilometer from the LZ…he could already see smoke billowing into the air, the dark cloud just starting to reach over the trees.
At five hundred meters, he began to hear the solid smack of bullets hitting the trees around them and he wordlessly led the group off the path, heading into the forest to the left and increasing his speed. Fifty meters in, they came across a pit where a redwood-size tree had been uprooted in a storm and pulled up tons of dirt with it. The dead tree was down next to the pit, its tangled network of roots hanging over the three-meter deep depression and nearly hiding it.
“You,” McKay pointed at the lower ranking of the two security guards, “get into this hole with Colonel Podbyrin and stay here until I come and get you. Don’t fire unless the enemy sees you, and if they do, un-ass the area and head back to the outpost.”
“Aye, sir,” the man acknowledged. Podbyrin didn’t seem comfortable with being left behind, but the position was concealed and defensible, and McKay knew he was going to have to move fast.
After the two men had scrambled down into the hole, McKay led the other security guard in a gentle arc that took them around the opposite side of the LZ from the main path, increasing his speed as the noise of battle drew closer. As they ran, hurdling roots and tangling vines, McKay began to see flashes of movement through the thick veil of trees and brush: figures in camouflaged armor, firing weapons, too far away for any other details to be made out.
