Act of War

by R. L. Giddings

  Marsh came over and stood behind him. “We thought for a long time it was some kind of propulsion system.”

  “Then we tried powering it up,” Dabiri said. “Big mistake.”

  “Punch a hole through that mountain opposite.”

  The thought of this amused Webster. “Yeah, right.”

  “Damndest thing,” Dabiri said. “Cut out a chamber six kilometres deep.”

  “I’d like to see that,” Webster said.

  “It didn’t last,” Marsh said. “Too unstable. Collapsed in on itself after a couple of days.”

  “Six kilometres,” Webster mused. Then he looked over in Nash’s direction. “Does he know about this?”

  “Why do you think he’s here?”

  Webster nodded solemnly. It was all making sense now. If the ship could do that kind of damage to a mountain then there was no telling what it could do to an enemy warship.

  “Pretty impressive, huh?” Nash was walking back, grinning from ear to ear. “Travelled a long way to see this. Can’t say I’m disappointed.”

  Kate Marsh rolled her eyes. Then she looked at Kekkonen.

  “See! I told you we should have kept our mouths shut. This is only going to make things worse.”

  Nash gave her an incredulous look. “What? You’d rather the Da’al got their hands on this? Because, believe me, they’d be the first to turn this to their own advantage.”

  Marsh said, “Is that why they’re here in the first place?”

  That stopped everyone in their tracks.

  “You think they’re here to recover part of their property?” Webster said.

  “But if they knew this thing was down here, why aren’t they down here now?” Dabiri said.

  “Perhaps that’s all part of their plan,” Marsh brushed the hair from her eyes. “Establish orbital superiority first: that’s why they had to take out your ship. From there, they can do pretty much whatever they like.”

  “They couldn’t take the risk of us getting our hands on something like this,” Nash said. “They’d have to be certain they recovered all of it: the ship, the computer drives, the armaments, everything. Couldn’t risk giving us any kind of a technological leg-up.”

  Webster looked around at the faces picked out by the beam of his head lamp. “Any chance that when you first came aboard you guys might have triggered something? A homing beacon, perhaps?”

  The three scientists looked suddenly guilty. No one wanted to consider that as an option.

  “But that would suggest that Tigris was their main focus all along,” Dabiri sounded defensive. “So, why waste their time targeting Blackthorn like they have? What would be the point?”

  Nash considered the unlikely weapons system which towered over them.

  “That, my friend, is a very good question indeed.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  Morton walked quickly alongside the auto-doc. She had changed into medical scrubs, as had Bayas who was taking up the rear. It had taken quite a lot of persuading to get him to agree to accompany her. He had a fair idea of what it was she intended to do and wanted no part of it. Why he had agreed to go along with her in the first place was something she was still trying to figure out. She didn’t want to take advantage of him but, at the same time, she knew her chance of successfully pulling this off without him were virtually nil.

  Deep down she believed that it had something to do with his medical training. Any doctor worth their salt has a code of ethics hard-wired into them and she thought that might have something to do with it. But then the consultants she’d been working with had had no compunctions about abandoning Faulkner just when he was at his most vulnerable, so what did she know?

  Up until this point, Morton hadn’t had much of an idea what she was going to do beyond trying to track Faulkner down. But now that she had him, she was seized with a new sense of urgency. If anyone realised what it was that she was up to, the consequences would be very severe. And to think that all this was down to an off-hand remark Bayas had made.

  Morton had been checking Faulkner’s vital signs and struggling to come to terms with the speed of his recovery when the idea had first occurred to her.

  “Earlier,” she’d said. “You mentioned that the other senior staff thought that reviving Faulkner was a waste of resources.”

  “That’s right. As far as they were concerned, there’s no benefit in this for us.”

  “And that’s what I don’t understand. What have you got against cryogenics? Surely, it can benefit everyone.”

  “It’s an ethical issue for us. Yakutians would never think of using one of your cryo-pods.”

  “No? Not even in an emergency?”

  “Even if our lives depended on it. Once our brain function starts to slip below a certain level, our implants would start to disintegrate, wiping out vast swathes of our processing power, eroding our skills, destroying our memories. Essentially, the process would change who we are.”

  Although she fundamentally disagreed with him, Morton had restrained herself from commenting thus far. No good would have come from getting embroiled in that argument. She knew from past experience how uncompromising the Yakutians could be when it came to the issue of their implants. Many would rather die than have them interfered with. That was why so few of them sought to have them up-dated, putting up with systems which were often badly antiquated.

  “But there was something else you said,” she’d probed. “You said they talked about throwing him out of an airlock.”

  “’And let the Feds clean up their own mess.’ Yes, that was what a lot of them were saying. Looks like they weren’t joking, either.”

  The Yakutians weren’t renowned for their sense of humour. So, she’d been particularly careful about how she’d worded her next question.

  “You talk about the Feds but surely, with the Mantis gone, there aren’t any Confederation vessels still in the area, are there?”

  “Well, of course there are,” Bayas had caught himself before he could say much more, but the words were already out. “Alright, doctor. What else do you need to know?”

  Morton, though thrilled at the news, had been deeply disappointed in herself. She wasn’t by nature, a devious person and it upset her to think how she’d tricked Bayas into compromising himself. Especially after all he’d done to help her.

  It had felt like a particularly cruel way of repaying his kindness.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have asked you that after everything you’ve done. I apologise. That was very mean of me.”

  Bayas had waved her apology aside as if annoyed with himself. “No, you ought to know what’s going on. There’ve been a number of ships involved in trying to recover your crewmates but the one you’re interested in the Renheim. It re-entered the system about a week ago. Is that any use?”

  The Renheim!

  Morton couldn’t have been more surprised. She’d thought they’d seen the last of Captain Meyer and his crew.

  “And Captain Mahbarat hasn’t chosen to engage them?”

  “Not so far, no. But all that might be about to change.”

  He’d left that comment hanging in the air. She’d been desperate to ask him what he meant by that but was wary of pushing her luck. Though there was one thing she’d been desperate to ask.

  “You’ve been very helpful,” she’d said. “Would you mind if I asked you one more question?”

  “Just the one?”

  “Yes, I promise. The Renheim. How close are we in terms of distance, do you know?”

  Bayas had pursed his lips as he’d considered this. Sharing on-going operational intelligence with a foreign combatant – this was serious stuff.

  “My understanding is that the Renheim has been shadowing our movements for the last few days.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “It’s just something we do. In a few more days, we’ll be shadowing them.”

  He’d gotten it all out in one breath and then,
when he’d finished, he’d dropped his head down onto his chest as though he was ashamed of himself.

  “So, they are close by then?”

  When he’d looked at her again, there’d been tears in his eyes.

  “I think I’ve said enough. I think we both have.”

  And now they were here, rushing Faulkner’s auto-doc through the corridors of the Serrayu, the pair of them dressed in medical scrubs, trying not to engage anyone with eye contact. Ahead of them, a group of disparate crew members were standing around looking disconsolate.

  “Perhaps we should turn back,” Bayas whispered under his breath.

  “I’m not so sure,” said Morton but still she slowed her pace.

  Eventually, they were forced to stop. There was a crowd of around twenty of them, all gathered around a single security guard. Bayas moved forward and spoke briefly with one of the men before coming back.

  “We can’t go this way. We have to back up.”

  “Can’t you say it’s an emergency or something?”

  “They’re saying it’s for our own good. There’s been some kind of disturbance up ahead. Reports of gunfire.”

  “What? Between who?”

  “Not sure. It’s all a bit confused at the moment, but we can’t stay here. Come on.”

  He reversed the auto-doc down the corridor and then took them through a series of inter-connected rooms before finally coming out into another corridor at the end of which was one of their turbo elevators.

  Morton made to protest. Once they were inside, they’d be picked up by every security system on-board. They couldn’t do it on the corridors, there was just too much traffic, but the elevators were different.

  In response to her objection, he did something very odd. He raised a finger to his lips. It was a strangely old fashioned gesture. Morton remembered a particularly elderly aunt motioning to her in this way when she was younger.

  They got into the elevator and travelled down several floors. At one point, one of their security personnel entered holding a rifle. Morton thought that she was going to pass out but eventually remembered to breathe. The man had stood in front of the auto-doc and had hardly looked at her, though he twice looked at Bayas. She was so relieved when he got out at the next floor that she wanted just to collapse onto the floor.

  But she didn’t.

  Instead, she waited until the doors of the elevator were securely shut before turning to Bayas.

  “What in heaven’s name is going on? Who carries kinetic weapons around on their own ship?”

  Bayas looked as confused as she was. “The only time I’ve seen anything like this was when we went to ship settlers off from one of the colony planets. When they found out that they were being re-located to a green-shoot colony they started to riot.”

  “I’m afraid my crewmates are in no fit state to start anything like that,” she said a little too flippantly.

  She suddenly realised that Bayas probably hadn’t heard about the recent events on the bridge. The only reason she knew was because of Hermendal. She was reluctant to say anything now, she didn’t want to alarm him for fear that he might abandon her. But neither did she want him wandering about blithely unaware of whatever dangers might be out there. No. He deserved to be told.

  “You should know that yesterday evening the captain had Commander Sunderam arrested. It might be that his arrest has got something to do with all this.”

  “Sunderam arrested?” his eyes were big and wide. “Really? And you witnessed all this yourself?”

  “No, but one of my people did. He was wounded in the crossfire. They called me down to attend to him.”

  He looked suddenly pensive. “I suppose that would explain things.”

  “What things?”

  “The reason why everyone’s been giving me the once over.”

  “They’re trying to decide whose side you’re on?”

  Bayas flared his nostrils, looking flustered.

  “And whose side are you on?” she asked.

  He seemed affronted that she should even ask such a question.

  “I think that’s between me and the Emperor,” he said haughtily.

  “Of course. I apologise. Forgive the intrusion.”

  But even this didn’t appear to completely placate him. He simply stared straight ahead, unwilling to continue the conversation and looking like he wanted to punch the wall.

  They travelled down two more floors before Bayas stopped the elevator.

  “Change of plan,” he said before pushing the auto-doc out into the corridor. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you here.”

  Morton fought to contain her frustration. Instead of keeping her mouth shut she’d pushed things to the extent that she’d succeeded in alienating her only ally.

  Was that it, then? Was he going to simply abandon her?

  She couldn’t blame him if he did. What had she been thinking to openly question his loyalties like that? It was the one topic you never broached with a Yakutian, but that hadn’t stopped her.

  Oh no, she could blunder her way into anything.

  She felt so bad, she didn’t even question him, just stood there, merely stood there in dumb acceptance.

  “I need to return to my quarters,” he said. “If what you say is true, then they’ll be on the look-out for me. I have to go back.”

  “I understand,” she said. “I’m sorry about all this. I can’t thank you enough for all that you’ve done.”

  She wanted to take his hand then, to elicit some kind of physical exchange between them but at the same time, she didn’t want to make matters worse.

  As they stood there awkwardly looking at one another, alarms began sounding followed by a repeated tannoy announcement.

  “I have to go,” he said, a note of apology in his voice.

  “It’s as bad as we thought?”

  “I’m afraid it is. If you continue straight on down this corridor, you should find what you’re looking for.”

  He stepped back inside the elevator then, raising his hand as the doors slid shut.

  That left Morton feeling isolated and alone. She started pushing the auto-doc down the long and austere looking corridor feeling strangely disconnected from her surroundings.

  Whatever it was that was going on in the rest of the ship, she wished Bayas well. He’d given her one last chance at redemption and for that at least, she was grateful. But the longer she continued down the corridor the more uncertain she became.

  She wasn’t sure exactly what it was that she expected to find at the end of the corridor. She’d been entertaining the idea that they would be herded onto a small shuttle. That the pilot would be a friend of Bayas’s who would take them wherever it was they wanted to go. It was a ludicrous idea of course, but it had been the one thing that had been keeping her going. If she’d have thought about the reality of her situation she’d probably still be back at the medical facility. Now, that she’d been left to her own devices any sense of resolve she might have had was starting to evaporate.

  She wasn’t even sure she wanted to leave the Surrayu even if the possibility did present itself.

  There was still the unresolved issue of what was to become of Yamada and Bertran, not to mention Hermandal and the other prisoners. Didn’t she have a responsibility to them as well? Was she being selfish just thinking about herself? Though if she got herself thrown in the brig she’d be no use to anybody.

  She chose that moment to steal a glance at Faulkner and immediately regretted it. Though he was breathing normally, he looked extremely unwell, bone white and sweating feverishly. For a moment, she came close to breaking down completely, but then her training kicked in.

  As an officer, it was her duty to facilitate her own escape the best way she knew how. Mahbarat’s men had failed in their clumsy attempt to dispose of Faulkner and she knew that if she could somehow get him off the ship and to safety, then that in itself would be judged as a major success. And yet things had started to br
eak down on-board the Serrayu and she had to wonder what would become of her people in the likelihood that this was to turn into a full scale mutiny.

  If the Yakutians were capable of killing one another then the fate of the enemy prisoners looked decidedly perilous.

  If she’d been on her own at that moment then she would have gone back but the responsibility of looking after Faulkner weighed heavily on her; if she could just get him over to the Renheim then they’d he’d have full access to their extensive medical suite which was set up for cases such as this. If he stayed here, chances were that he wouldn’t be around in twenty four hours.

  That decided her. She had to press on.

  She looked up to see two crewmen approaching her, at speed. She didn’t know what else to do but put her head down and keep walking. The two crewmen were so deep in conversation that they hardly noticed her.

  That in itself was worrying. If she wasn’t heading towards the shuttle bay then where was she going? The occasional signs were all in Yakutian and so completely useless as far as she was concerned. There was also no sign of any security checkpoints which was good in some ways and yet worrying in others. Any route off the ship would also provide a potential ingress point for hostile boarding parties and so it either had to be capable of being sealed off, or had to be properly defensible.

  And there was no sign of any of that here.

  Where was Bayas sending her? There were two clear possibilities the first of which was so unlikely as to be inconceivable. The missile loading bay itself would provide a possible escape route for Faulkner but it was clearly not one that he was likely to live through. Plus, there’d be launch crew in attendance who wouldn’t just stand by while she went about her business.

  The second option was far more likely: an actual escape pod proper. All that she knew about the Yakutian versions were that they were fairly rudimentary. In the Yakutian navy, if you hadn’t been picked up in the time it took for your oxygen to run out then you weren’t likely to survive the experience. Added to that was the fact that Faulkner was still totally reliant on the auto-doc and the whole proposal was starting to look less and less likely.