by Ivan Turner
Beckett froze, looked back at Cummings’ position, looked at the slug in Bonamo’s hand. Of all of the things going through his mind, one stood out. Cummings never missed.
“He shot Rodrigo?”
“It looks that way, sir.”
“Why would he shoot Rodrigo?”
It was a question that Bonamo couldn’t answer.
“Captain?”
Beckett turned to see Burbank coming out of the broken area with something in her hand. It was a heavy pistol of some unknown make. Beckett took it from her and studied it. The grip and trigger guard were melted together and the top of the chamber had collapsed. There was a place in the grip for what looked like a magazine cartridge, but he could never have identified the type of bullets that went into it. Turning, he handed it off to Bonamo.
“It’s a Locklear, captain.” Beckett had never heard of a Locklear. When that became apparent, Bonamo continued. “It’s a beam weapon, the only weapon ever designed by Locklear Technologies. They tried to sell it to the New Earth military, but it wasn’t very efficient and the entire production wound up dispersed among the pirate groups. An expert could get 5 shots out of a cartridge and the thing had the tendency to flame up, like this one did. You can see the handprint. It must have hurt like hell.”
I’ll bet, the captain thought noting that the handprint was both from a human hand and from a left hand.
Rodrigo and Beckett – A Long Time Before
“Welcome aboard, Sergeant!”
Beckett was all smiles. It had taken him seven years of fighting and clawing to get Anabelle Rodrigo assigned to his ship. He had begged and cajoled every high ranking official who would give him the time of day and all for naught. The Admiralty, in their infinite sadism, refused to put him and Rodrigo back together.
So he had changed tactics.
His Infantry Officer, a guy by the name of Bryce Hemmingway, had been a decent sort. He was a tough guy, old school, and he was just the kind of officer who should have done well aboard the Valor under Beckett’s command. Unfortunately, he didn’t fit into the agenda. For two years, the captain mercilessly undermined Hemmingway, declaring him incompetent. Hardy had had mixed feelings on the subject, but, as always, was loyal to the captain. When it became clear to Hemmingway that the Valor wasn’t the place for him, he had retired outright, not even bothering to try and get transferred out of the fleet’s worst dead end.
John Poulle wasn’t stupid. After Hemmingway’s last tour, he’d called Beckett into a conference and chewed him out for destroying the career of one of the best officers he’d ever had. Beckett was without regret and simply stated that it opened a hole for Rodrigo to finally be promoted and sent somewhere where she would be appreciated.
Poulle had just laughed.
Beckett hadn’t taken that well. He’d stood and gotten right in the admiral’s face. “You listen to me, John. I went easy on Hemmingway because he was a good guy. If you send me anyone but Rodrigo, I’ll send his ass out on a spacewalk in his underwear. I’ll drag a retirement out of every officer you put on my ship.”
Poulle, never one to be intimidated, laughed again. “It’s a good thing I’m not recording this, Ted. The other admirals would sell their mothers for grounds to bust you.”
Beckett didn’t give a shit about the other admirals and Poulle knew it, but a couple of days later, his sergeant was transferred off ship and Rodrigo was reassigned...as his sergeant. It wasn’t what he’d wanted, but it was better than nothing.
Rodrigo’s features were soft as she saluted her captain. “I was a little surprised,” she said.
He shrugged. “I’m not completely without influence.”
“Yes you are. Who’s the new IO?”
Now Beckett laughed out loud. “For all intents and purposes, you are. Have you ever heard of William Boone?"
She nodded. Boone had a reputation for laying low and doing very little.
Beckett had requested him. He was too weak to challenge Rodrigo and too young to retire. He was perfect.
Rodrigo thought so, too. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”
“Likewise. Those fucking admirals think they know what makes a good crew. The Valor has the best crew in the fleet.”
Rodrigo frowned, “Minus William Boone, of course.”
Beckett grinned. “He serves his purpose. Let’s never forget to give him credit for that.”
He showed her to the infantry barracks. He would have bunked her with another officer and put Boone in the barracks, but the soldiers would kill him. Besides which, there was only so much he’d be able to get away with. He could treat Rodrigo like the officer and Boone like a noncom, but not more than that.
“How’s Rebecca?” Beckett asked, even though he knew he shouldn’t.
“How should I know?” Rodrigo answered through clenched teeth.
Beckett shuffled his foot from side to side as they walked. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. It took an awful lot to color his face red. “I just thought, since you’d been on leave for so long, you might have gone to see her.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I...”
“Ted, there are lines that even you don’t get to cross. You know that.”
“I know that,” he repeated.
“Then shut the fuck up.”
Lament for the Fallen
As she massaged her burned hand absently, Rodrigo began to feel the guilt weigh down on her. Her career had been one of turmoil, a struggle from its inception. Labeled as stupid by almost every officer with which she crossed paths, she had easily attained the rank of Sergeant knowing that she would never be able to go any further. This realization had never particularly bothered her but it was apparently rooted firmly in the minds of others. And why not? It was a computer age, even for soldiers. Her combat skill was almost worthless, at least as far as leadership was concerned, and becoming more worthless every day.
There was a time when it didn’t really matter to her. Beckett had given her exactly what she had always wanted. For all intents and purposes, she was an officer. She ran the squad, making all of the decisions that Boone should have been making. She had the captain’s ear while Boone barely had his regard. But, as time wore on, it became hollow. What Beckett had done for her now seemed more like pity than respect. During their last few missions, he had been curt and she had begun to wonder if she had worn out her welcome. As she thought back, she supposed the resentment was inevitable. Anabelle Rodrigo had never had to rely on anyone to take care of her. If any other captain had done this for her, she’d have been angry. As she began to face that truth, she realized that she needed to take matters into her own hands.
So she’d sold her soul.
And now she was beginning to feel guilty.
Off duty, Rodrigo sat alone in the cargo bay, staring at the plain crate that held Jason Cummings. She felt as if she were crying, but Anabelle Rodrigo’s tear ducts had dried up long ago. There was just this heavy weight and oppressive crushing of her almost dead heart. Jason had been such a good man. Such a good man…
“Rodrigo?”
The sergeant closed her eyes, desperate not to see, of all people, the lieutenant.
“How’s your shoulder?” Tedesco asked.
One wounded hand coming up to one wounded shoulder, Rodrigo chose not to reply. From almost anyone, it could have been a sincere inquiry. From Tedesco, it was questionable, a veiled reference designed to weaken a subordinate.
“What do you want?” she asked, not bothering to clip the annoyance in her tone.
“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about your friend.”
“No you’re not. You knew about it. You’re responsible. What I want to know is why?”
Lara Tedesco thought that was a fair question. “Because Cummings was stuttering. He was going to give us up to the captain.”
“He would never have done that.”
“He tried to stop you.”
Rodrigo suppressed a
snarl. She knew Cummings’ resolve had been faltering. He had been too good a man. This kind of mercenary work hadn’t really sat well with him. But that didn’t change the fact that Tedesco, for all of her bumbling immaturity, had made a calculated decision. She’d needed Cummings out of the way and had manipulated Rodrigo into being her assassin. Forget about the fact that she had jeopardized the expedition by doing it. What she had done was so disgustingly cruel that its implications escaped even Rodrigo’s skewed sense of fair play.
The sergeant’s face turned into a grimace and she spat a wad of phlegm onto the deck at the lieutenant’s feet. “You’re a stupid child.” Then she marched past and started for the door. She didn’t know where she was going to go, but she would have just gone. She needed a break from this business.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t about to get it. She heard the whine of Tedesco’s personal communicator and stopped even before the lieutenant ordered it. The news would be from MacDonald. The news wouldn’t be good.
“All right,” Tedesco said. “Gather everyone into the hangar bay. We’ll have to move out on our own.”
“What is it?” Rodrigo said breathily, knowing that the worst of it had yet to end.
“The captain’s gone off ship.”
“By himself?”
“No.” Tedesco was already out the door, moving briskly down the narrow corridor. The hangar bay was seconds from the cargo hold. “He took Burbank, Cabrera, and Bonamo.”
Bonamo. That was the answer then. Rodrigo hadn’t been able to understand why Beckett had questioned her about her report, but now she knew. Bonamo had reported something that contradicted her story. Somehow, he had known that Cummings had fired first. Beckett had gone to investigate. If she knew him, then she knew that he would be thorough. He wouldn’t just find her damaged shoulder pad. He’d find the slug that damaged it. He’d find the melted laser that had killed Cummings.
No, this was not good.
Power Play
A short time later, William Boone was also trying to find the captain. He was curious why Jennifer Massey was close to completing her second straight shift with no one scheduled to replace her as the third began. Dorian had been no help, admonishing him for not having properly scheduled his department. Though he found such reprimands irritating, he’d gotten used to them. With all of the people in the universe that were aware of Boone’s shortcomings, and eager to voice them, there was no way he could be unaware of them as well. But he had devoted a good deal of time toward furthering his skills. By the time he’d reported back to the Valor for this assignment, he’d been confident that he was a much better officer. The bout with Tunsley had almost broken him. Almost. Boone wasn’t the brightest of the bunch, but he wasn’t stupid either. Beckett’s paranoid accusations had come from a dark place, but Boone knew better than to give them any weight. Beckett wasn’t sore at him for trying to be a better officer. He was sore at him for flaunting it and not knowing when to keep his mouth shut.
For that, Boone was also sore at himself.
What pissed him off the most right now was that he had certainly not screwed up the scheduling of his department. It was more likely that someone had altered the scheduling. Only the captain and crew chief had the authority to do so and they still had to run it by him as a formality. Hardy was impossible to find on a good day so he needed to seek out Beckett. And he didn’t think that either one of them had overridden him on this. For sure it was Rodrigo. That bitch was constantly dropping anvils onto his head.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t find her either. You’d think with combat in space and combat on the ground, the officer in charge of infantry would be able to find some god damned infantry.
As a last resort, Boone knew to check the hangar bay. There was always a soldier on duty in the hangar and, by his recollection, it was due to be Burbank. She was a little skittish but at least she’d tell him if anyone had come her way.
In the hangar bay, he did not find Burbank. But he did not find an empty room either.
Rodrigo was there, of course. So was MacDonald, Knudson, Alraune, Irvin, Icknor, Yamata, Goldfarb, and Rafferty. It was almost his entire staff. Only Bonamo, Burbank, and Massey were missing. And, of course, poor Cummings.
Lieutenant Tedesco was there, too, which cast a strange light on the whole gathering. She didn’t outrank him and she wasn’t on an Infantry track. She was Navigation and that meant she had no business gathering his department. And what were they gathering for? Knudson and Icknor were prepping the rumbler while Goldfarb and Irvin were each revving up an air bike. Everyone was armed.
All activity ceased as Boone entered the room and this oppressive fear settled onto him at once. He knew instantly that he’d stumbled across something he was never supposed to see. He knew instantly that it was serious and that Beckett’s “paranoid outburst” didn’t seem quite so paranoid anymore.
Who are you working for, Boone?
The captain’s accusation, pieced together with this gathering, slid some pieces into place. Was there really a conspiracy against Beckett? If there was, then Boone’s inconsistent behavior made him a suspect. But if there was a conspiracy against the captain, what was Rodrigo doing there?
“Is there something we can do for you, Mr. Boone?” the lieutenant asked.
He swallowed hard, fighting the urge to retreat. He could tell that she was attempting to take charge of the situation. It infuriated him because she was nothing but a coddled daddy’s girl and this was his staff.
“Did the captain order an expedition?” he asked with a dry mouth.
“As a matter of fact…” she began but Rodrigo cut her off.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with you, Boone. We’ve got it covered.”
Boone hated Rodrigo. No big revelation there. He was free to admit that to himself if to no one else. He hated the majority of the officers on the Valor, old and new, but he hated Rodrigo the most. She was a first class nutcracker and he would have liked nothing better than to slam her in the jaw with a rifle butt. Unfortunately, she’d kick his ass up and down the ship if he even so much as hinted at it so he kept it to himself.
“Sergeant,” he said, reminding himself of the hard work he’d done and the better person he promised himself he’d be. “You haven’t got the authority to ‘cover’ anything without my say-so. And, before you speak up, Lieutenant, you have no business being here at all.”
He was buoyed by his increased confidence. His better self, though, kept note of the fact that no one had gone back to work and Alraune had moved out of sight. What concerned him most about that was that Alraune was not proficient in hand to hand combat. They would not send her to subdue someone. She was, however, an excellent shot.
But they couldn’t mean to kill him?
Tedesco seemed to have lost her edge, but Rodrigo approached him directly. Boone tensed, his instincts beginning to take over. He could feel the door at his back. The unseen presence of Alraune floated like a wraith just within reach of his psyche. He wanted to flee.
“We’re conducting outdoor exercises, Boone,” Rodrigo whispered, now close enough to touch him. “In case we have to move into combat.”
He swallowed hard. Caught between his duty to take charge of the situation and his innate understanding that he would be unable to do so, he stood locked in place. His eyes never left Rodrigo’s but they were not equals. Hers were stolid and hard, his sullen and fearful. For a heartbeat, she dropped that contact, looked to her left, his right, away and behind him. Then he knew where Alraune was. It was not a mistake. Rodrigo didn’t make such mistakes. She was telling him where Alraune was. She was intimidating him with a warning.
“Exercises,” he repeated with a scratchy throat. Then he straightened up, looked at his life and his duty with a clarity that had never before presented itself to him.
“Look, Boone,” Rodrigo said to him when it was clear that no one was going to take charge of the situation. “Our orders don’t come from the captain.
You know that.”
“Then where do they come from?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know but at this point all he could think to do was to keep the conversation going. Maybe he would stumble on a way out of this mess.
“Higher up.”
“Really.”
She nodded. “If you’re thinking this is a mutiny, then guess again. We’ve got an Admiral’s daughter working with us.”
They did have that. The way Admiral Tedesco had pushed his daughter through the ranks, she wouldn’t dare do anything as stupid as mutiny.
Rodrigo continued. “If you’re smart, you’ll play this just the right way and maybe come out of it with a…”
His eyes widened.
“…transfer?”
She’d played him well. She knew exactly what he wanted and she put it right on the plate for him to snatch.
“What do you need me to do?”
She smiled and to him it was the ugliest thing he had ever seen. “Nothing.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you just do nothing. We’re going off ship to complete the assignment. You’ll stay on board and never say that you saw us. That’s your part.”
Right. That was always his part. No one ever trusted him to do anything useful. He wondered if she was even being level with him. If she was telling the truth and their orders had come from the Admiralty, then there should still be order to their behavior. He still outranked her. Should he try to exercise that power?
Then he caught a glimpse of Alraune standing close to the door. She had come around and trapped him. It didn’t matter. There wasn’t much that he could do against them, trapped or not.
“And the captain? What if he questions me?”
She shook her head. “The captain’s off the ship, or didn’t you know?”
He shook his head.
"It’s simple, Boone. You never saw us. We never saw you. You were never here.”
So he nodded. “A transfer,” he said. “This’ll get me off the Valor.”
