“You always did enjoy playing with gadgets,” Estelle commented, seeing a trace of a smile on Dodds’ face. “I remember when we first met in flight school and you had that really weird thing that you played all the games on.”
“My Handspring Five?” Dodds said, the smile making itself more visible. “That was something that I’d had for years. Really outdated back in 2608, but I still loved it. I guess it was sort of like my security blanket when I first arrived.”
“You felt insecure?”
“I think we all did,” Dodds said. “Some of us were just a little better at hiding it than others.” He looked up and smiled at her.
She smiled back. Yes, she had been scared back then, but less because she was stepping into the unknown and more because of how much the opportunity to make something of herself in the navy meant to her.
“You know,” Dodds said, “this reminds me of when Natalia and I were trying to navigate through that city on Mythos, in the dune buggy. The navigation system was fairly simple to use, but she couldn’t work it out, either.”
Estelle’s smile froze as she noticed how Dodds had brought Natalia’s name back up. “Was Natalia on Griffin with you when you went to Imperial space?” she asked. She heard something creeping into her voice that made her feel a little ashamed, and hoped that Dodds wouldn’t pick up on it.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “She came aboard at Kethlan. Turns out that she and Cratos had been assigned the exact same task as we had, only they were being a lot more covert about it.” He tapped at the PDA screen, squinting at it. “I swear this was more straightforward when I did it …”
“Cratos?” Estelle queried, not sure she’d heard him right.
“Oh, sorry,” Dodds said, “you don’t know. Turns out Cratos wasn’t destroyed back during Black Widow. She spent a year stuck aboard it, when a jump went wrong. Long story. Natalia’s already told me. I’m sure she’ll tell you in good time, too.” He then held a button on the Kyllini, the screen going dark as the device powered off. He pressed the button again to bring it back on. “Just need to restart it …”
“So, you landed on Kethlan?” Estelle prompted.
Dodds nodded, giving her his full attention.
“What happened? Did you find Zackaria?”
Dodds sighed, as though unwilling to talk about it. He did anyway, explaining how Chaz had spoken through him, delivering words and reasoning that Dodds himself might not have been able to command. The outcome was clear to Estelle even before he started the tale. Had he been successful, there would not have been so many dour faces back on the flight deck. Part of the story did intrigue her, though.
“But hold on, he did listen to you?” she said.
“He did,” Dodds said, sounding almost as incredulous as Estelle. “But I think we’d have been more successful if we hadn’t been interrupted.”
The stateroom’s door chimed.
“Speaking of which,” Dodds finished, looking to the door.
“That’ll be our coastguard escort, come to take us to the meeting,” Estelle explained, rising from the bed. She was moving to unlock the door, when she saw it slide open a little way. A man stuck his head through the gap giving a glimpse of his uniform and the keycard he’d just used.
“Estelle de Winter?” he asked.
“And Simon Dodds,” Estelle added, helpfully.
The man’s face seemed to brighten for some reason. “Are you ready?” he said.
Estelle confirmed that they were. She wondered why he hadn’t opened the door all the way. Perhaps to stop unwanted people from seeing who occupied the rooms.
“Good,” the man said. A quick glance down the corridor. “Look, there’s something we need to take care of first. Won’t take a minute …”
“Oh …?” Estelle began, as the man slipped fully into the room, locking the door quickly behind him.
“ESTELLE!”
Everything happened at once. She saw the glint of a knife as it flashed from concealment behind the man’s back, heard Dodds shout his warning and then felt herself being yanked backward. She half-fell as Dodds pulled her, seeing the knife slash through the air where she had just been standing, the stroke clearly meant for her throat.
She came down awkwardly on the bed, slipping off the edge and bouncing down onto the floor. Two pairs of legs were between her and the door, Dodds having moved in to meet the attacker. Estelle arose in time to see Dodds crash into the coastguard and knock him back into the door. Apparently caught off-guard by the way Dodds had hurled himself forward, the man took a brief moment to gather himself. He retained a good grip on the knife, Estelle saw. Snarling and with eyes flaring, the coastguard launched himself once more at the two pilots.
Dodds had failed to capitalize on his tackle and the knife came at him. His opponent only needed to hold the knife point steady and Dodds could well impale himself on it. Dodds therefore moved carefully. He caught the coastguard’s forearm as he swiped once more, managing to steady it for only a moment before it was ripped away. Dodds immediately lunged for the weapon, seeking to hold it and control it.
Estelle could see Dodds was risking his fingers, allowing them to be so close to the blade. She cast about the small stateroom for something with which to attack, but saw nothing of any use. The cupboard was built into the wall, as were the shelves. However much as she wanted to, she’d never be able to wrench those off the wall to use as a weapon.
“Hey!” she shouted as the two men continued to struggle. What the hell was going on? Why was their escort attacking them? Her challenge was ignored, as uncontrolled anger radiated from the man. He was like a rabid animal, consumed by violence and a desire to kill. Dodds’ hands had slipped off the knife, and the coastguard delivered a kick that knocked him down onto the bed. The knifeman prepared to strike again.
Now it was Estelle’s turn to haul Dodds out of danger. She moved with unbelievable speed, leaping onto the bed, grabbing an arm and yanking him to the side. The coastguard had clearly intended to stick the blade deep into Dodds’ chest and it drove into the mattress of the bed, all the way up to the hilt, slicing easily through the thin covering duvet.
As the man yanked the knife from the bed, Estelle found she had instinctively grabbed hold of a pillow. Lacking any other weapon, she swung it as hard as she could at the coastguard’s head, causing the man to grunt and stagger back. She prepared to strike again, hoping to secure the opportunity they needed to part their attacker from his knife. But the respite was brief. As she swung again, the furious man slashed out once more, his blade tearing into the pillow.
The effect was incredible. There came a loud ripping sound, followed by a blizzard of feathers, exploding all around the room. For a moment, Estelle was lost in the twirling white flakes cascading round her. It was like being blinded by a snowstorm.
“Look,” the coastguard breathed, apparently also lost in the storm, “just stand still and die, okay?” He sounded psychopathic. “Just … make it easy, eh? Ooof!”
Dodds had caught the man with a good blow to the temple. He attempted to follow it up with another, but the coastguard shifted, escaping the fist that had been aimed more squarely at his face. His footing was clumsy, however, not helped by the cramped interior of the small stateroom, and he became tangled in his own legs, stumbling and nearly downing himself.
“Estelle! The alarm!” Dodds prompted.
“Don’t even think about it, Captain,” the coastguard spat, eyes flicking to the alarm by the door. “You’re not going to stop us from getting away …”
Us? Estelle thought. Who is us?
She didn’t have time to think further, as Dodds went again for the knife. The coastguard deflected Dodds’ grab, tried to counter with one himself, but failed. It was now or never. Dodds had him distracted. Estelle leapt from the bed, hoping to squeeze by to the alarm without finding a knife blade wedged in her back or between her ribs.
“I SAID NO!” the coastguard bellowed, thrusting
out a kick towards Estelle.
It caught her right in the stomach, winding her and forcing her to retreat. Damn, that hurt. She heard Dodds yelp as clothes ripped. “Dodds!” she cried.
“Estelle, get the alarm!” Dodds called urgently. He somehow managed to grab the coastguard, restraining his knife hand and punching him twice in the face. The coastguard scarcely registered the blows, shrugging Dodds off, stabbing and missing. He was taller than Dodds, perhaps younger and stronger too. Dodds was clearly losing this fight, only just about managing to hold the coastguard off. Dodds looked almost as desperate as his opponent. Estelle had to help him. But how? Her hand then found the second pillow, and in an instant she knew what she needed to do.
As Dodds managed to land another punch and a follow-up, Estelle shook the pillow from its slip case. She stood up on the bed, holding the pillowcase like a sack, waiting for her moment. It wasn’t long in coming. The coastguard had just landed two successive blows on Dodds’ face. With Dodds’ guard open, the coastguard made to thrust the blade forward … and at that moment Estelle struck.
Somehow, she managed to wrap her legs around the man’s torso and pull the pillowcase down over his head. She prayed as she did so that she wouldn’t find that knife blade embedded in her own thigh, a highly likely outcome given how the man had started thrashing frantically the instant the pillowcase was over his head.
She held on tight as he bucked like a mad horse, waving the knife around as though trying to swat a fly. He tried to butt her with the back of his head, but she only tightened her grip on the pillowcase and pulled it tighter, hoping to suffocate him. Twice, the knife blade thrust at her head. Quizzed later, she could not say how she had managed to dodge it. Perhaps so frantic in his thrashing to remove the pillowcase that the man was beyond thought, which would explain why he had simply not stabbed her in the legs, either.
“Dodds!” Estelle prompted. He seemed unsure of how to react, perhaps worrying that he might make things worse. Just get him! Estelle wanted to scream at him. But the coastguard seemed unstoppable, crashing Estelle against the wall behind them and knocking the wind out of her.
An instant later, Dodds was kicking the man in the groin, and then landing a series of punches on his pillowcase-wrapped face. Estelle glimpsed a reddening of the lily-white case and an audible crack. The man’s nose must’ve been broken. He cried out, swore, raised the knife, just before Dodds booted him in the stomach. Finally, the blade tumbled from the coastguard’s grasp and the man sank to his knees. Dodds didn’t let up the punches and kicks for even one moment, the grunts and cries of his opponent softening with each strike.
“Dodds, stop,” Estelle said, extricating herself from the downed man and starting to move Dodds away. Dodds continued the battering. “Stop, he’s down.”
“Bastard!” Dodds shouted, putting in one more kick, before Estelle pulled him away completely.
Blood was soaking the front of the white slip case, making Estelle feel somewhat grateful that she couldn’t see what had become of the coastguard’s face. From the way Dodds had struck him, he’d probably broken the coastguard’s nose and loosened a number of teeth.
“I hate knives!” Dodds declared, his eyes still furious. He moved Estelle aside enough to kick the weapon into a corner of the room.
“Just be thankful it was a knife he was using,” Estelle panted. “If he’d brought a gun, we’d both be dead.”
“What the hell was that all about?” Dodds said. “Why was he trying to kill us? Was that one of the guys from the flight deck who attacked you?”
“No, of course not. He …” Estelle started, then hesitated. Something about this was incomprehensible. The man was wearing a coastguard uniform, but that didn’t mean that he actually was a coastguard. He’d definitely put up a fight, but had been more clumsy than what Estelle might’ve expected from station security – more like someone involved in a street brawl. Was it because he’d been desperate?
Dodds seemed to be following her train of thought and moved to take the blooded pillowcase from the man’s face. A frantic banging at the door caused him to steal a glance at Estelle before snatching up the knife. Their only weapon – in these circumstances there was little choice. The door chime began jingling madly, a mixture of voices pouring in through the intercom.
“Who is it?” Dodds called.
“Security!” a clear voice responded.
Estelle remembered that the intruder had locked the door behind him, sealing her and Dodds in the room.
“We’re coming in!” the voice added, before the door slid aside.
Dodds pushed Estelle behind him, threatening those outside the room with the blade he held. His hand was shaking terribly.
Three men, dressed similarly to the one who had attacked them, stood in the doorway. Each held guns, raised and trained on Dodds, their eyes tracking quickly over the cramped interior, before settling on the body on the floor. Dodds pointed the knife threateningly at the group.
“Sir, put the knife down,” the spokesperson of the group said, gesturing for Dodds to do so.
“No, you put your guns down!” Dodds said.
Estelle could hear tension in his voice, even though she was certain that he was well aware of the absurdity of what he was threatening. If these men meant them harm, they could easily shoot both of the room’s occupants dead in an instant.
“Sir, please put the knife down,” the spokesman urged again, “we’re not here to harm you.”
“Everything okay?” a new voice came, appearing behind the coastguards. It was Enrique. He looked over the five of them, before seeing the body on the floor, the bloodied pillowcase and the steady breaths still coming from the body. “Oh, bloody hell, mate,” Enrique tutted to Dodds. “Not been back hardly five minutes and you’re already causing trouble, eh?”
“Sir,” the security spokesman said, speaking once more to Dodds, slower and more calmly this time. “Please put down the knife.”
Dodds looked at the knife he still held, before casting it aside like something that totally revolted him. “What the hell is going on here?” he asked.
XV
— Even the Trusted —
His name was Jerome Fincham. He had been a coastguard for over ten years, having originally served as one of the security staff on Xalan Orbital. He had been transferred from Indigo to Gabriel, and then to Earth as the Pandoran army had continued its advance. He was something of a hothead, Dodds was told. In recent years, the man had become more and more liable to fly off the handle when the pressure of the war became too much for him. This had generally involved a lot of shouting, moaning and a single incident in which a punch was thrown. As these kinds of scuffles were quite common amongst staff, no one had ever considered him to be the kind that might seek to murder two ATAF pilots.
The man had been seeking escape. Had he become delusional? Dodds wondered. Had he finally snapped and thought that by killing Estelle and Dodds, the Pandoran army might spare his life? Fincham had said nothing as he had been taken away to be interrogated by the station security. Maybe he was disappointed that he had failed.
“We can win this,” Jenkins announced, turning away from the footage of the battle of Alpha Centauri and to the rest of the conference room, drawing Dodds’ attention back to the matter at hand. The room was sizeable, easily accommodating those that occupied it, seated around the large table that was placed centrally. As well as he and his fellow wingmates, attendees included Natalia, Parks, Jenkins, Mandeep, Meyers, Joyle Lynch, Adrian Parsons, and a minister and his aide from Sol’s ruling government.
Dodds’ eyes flicked over his team-mates, whom he sat close to, and saw Kelly and Enrique leaning into each other a little. He didn’t need to peer under the table to know that they were holding hands. He was certain that he had felt Estelle’s fingers wandering over to his during certain parts of the video sequences they had viewed. He could detect a need there from her, something more than just being grateful to see him aga
in after all this time; a similar need had emanated from Natalia back on Griffin. Now was not the time to think of such things. He focused on what was happening.
“Play it again,” Jenkins said.
The conference room studied the battle footage of Alpha Centauri closely once more, watching as several Imperial starfighters blundered into the path of a beam weapon attack, brought about by one of their own side. It was the first time that many had seen the footage, Dodds himself included. He glanced around the room at the other occupants, seeing them all appearing as surprised as he. What they had discovered at Kethlan – the scores of abandoned starships, the many dead soldiers and the infighting on the planet’s surface – had caused the greatest reaction. Many different questions had been raised, with Griffin’s head physician supplying the same explanation to the meeting room as he had given Parks and the select members of Griffin’s crew. The footage that followed had been the snow-laden investigation of Kethlan, and concluded with Dodds’ confrontation with Zackaria.
“I don’t wish to sound negative, Admiral,” Lynch said, “but even with their numbers reduced as they are, we are still outnumbered. The length of the engagement at Alpha Centauri more than demonstrated that,” he added, gesturing to the screen.
“That was largely because of the split in our force,” Jenkins said. “We had teams out in Imperial space, teams here, and only two ATAFs at Alpha. There, we were indeed outnumbered. But here, with our numbers combined, we stand a far higher chance of victory.”
Much of the conference room remained sceptical.
“And we also have nukes,” Jenkins continued.
The Battle for the Solar System (Complete Trilogy) Page 115
