Resolve of Steel (Halloran's War Book 2)

by J. R. Geoghan

  Chapter 17

  Tavar, Struve System

  The Governor sat through most of Halloran’s relatively short exposition without comment, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. But the eyebrows had definitely gone downward at the point where the Captain made mention of a Prax ship utilizing Tavarran steel.

  Only at one point did he interrupt Halloran; when the self-proclaimed Earther had talked about escaping from his supposed home planet in a pirate shuttle, the Governor had turned to Kendra and asked, “And you were with him during this?”

  Kendra had shaken her head. “I met him later.”

  “Hmm.”

  After that he just listened, and once Halloran came to the part about landing on the planet surreptitiously he stood up and put his hands on the table in front of him.

  “When your security people zapped us with whatever those guns were, we became your honored guests,” Halloran concluded.

  My story seems nutty even to me, he thought as he watched the Governor regard the tabletop for several moments.

  Finally the other man looked up slowly to Halloran, then to Kendra. “I’ll admit that you and your crew are having quite an adventure, if even half of what you just told me is true.”

  Kendra smiled. “More like a nightmare.”

  He fixed her with a look. “You…you’re a Captain in the Fleet?” He sounded conflicted about something.

  “That’s correct.”

  The man raised his voice. “Guard!”

  Gruff promptly reappeared in the entrance, gun at the ready.

  “Put this man back in confinement.”

  “But—.” Halloran began to object.

  Without looking at him the Governor pointed a warning finger in his direction to silence him. “And make sure they’re comfortable in there. Get them a heating unit and something to eat.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  The massive bulk of Grillo loomed behind Gruff. Halloran sighed.

  “See you ‘round,” he smiled at Kendra as he passed.

  She only nodded in return, looking lost. He felt his heart skip a beat and strongly considered putting up some resistance. But, no; this Governor had potential. Breathe, Tom…

  Gruff marched him down the return way and popped the cell door. Now, Halloran could see that the room they were stuffed in was actually one of a row of identical compartments—storage. “No wonder we’re freezing.”

  “Ha,” Gruff said. “You don’t know freezing.” As the door opened he lightly shoved Halloran in.

  “Sir, glad you’re back,” Reyes said from the other side.

  Halloran turned. “He promised us a heater.”

  “Give it a few minutes. We’ll be back.” The door closed on Gruff’s face.

  The others crowded around. “What happened, sir?”

  “I’m not exactly sure. But I got our story out.”

  An hour later, Kendra was in her cell—which was actually a decent, small bedchamber of some sort—contemplating the ceiling when a guard knocked on the door and cracked it open. “You’re wanted.”

  What followed was a long walk to a lift, which the two of them took up enough levels for Kendra to lose track. “Where are we going?”

  The man didn’t look at her. “Control.”

  “Alright.” It was pretty much what she had figured anyway, so she kept to herself until the lift finally stopped and another guard was standing at the entrance. This one was dressed in a formal uniform of gray and orange, and looked professional. Without a word, he motioned for Kendra to step out and join him. As she followed him down a metallic-paneled hall, Kendra heard the lift door close behind her.

  This level was much better; the warmth filled her body, and she realized just how chilled she’d been up to this point. The neat furnishings and uniforms reassured her.

  The man deposited her in a normal-looking conference room and closed the door without a word. She wandered around the old, battered wood table that suddenly she noticed seemed out of place here where everything was made of metal or stone.

  She was running her hand across its surface when the Governor entered the room, nodding on the way to the guard who was apparently stationed outside. Behind him was a less-intimidating man in one of the official uniforms.

  “Sit,” the Governor motioned to the table. He pointed to another seat for the other man and pulled out a chair at the head of the table closest to the door.

  Kendra wished for a moment that she still had her official uniform; the Serapis’ clothing generator had done a passable job replicating the cut of it in creating a replacement for the battered official wear she’d had to discard, but the colors were all off and wouldn’t have passed for regulation anywhere. Anyway, she self-consciously smoothed the top and tugged it at her waist as she sat down; a practiced motion from years of staff meetings with men.

  The Governor twisted slightly in his seat to give himself a better view of her. “So…Kendra, is it?”

  “Yes.”

  The man glanced at the smaller man on the opposite side of the table. “Captain Kendra.”

  The other man had produced a tablet and was looking intently at it, then up at Kendra. Finally, he turned the tablet around and showed it to both of the other people at the table. It was a file photo of her in Merchant Arm uniform, her hair in a regulation bun, drawn up tall. It was taken at the medal ceremony. After that day on Goliath. After she’d recovered for two months in medical.

  The Governor took the tablet and looked at it for a moment, then handed it back and laced his fingers together and stared up at a corner of the room for another few seconds. Finally he came back to her. “So, I was right when I thought I’d remembered your name from somewhere. You were the one from the battle of Struve Six.”

  She dipped her head and raised an eyebrow. “There were a lot of us there.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed briefly. “But you’re her—the one from the Goliath.”

  “Like I said, there were many of us who did what had to be done. I survived to get a medal for the rest of them.”

  The Governor sighed and nodded to the other man. “You were right.”

  Kendra looked from one to the other. “Right about what?”

  The other man stood. “I’ll see to it.” He turned to the doorway.

  Kendra found herself on her feet as well. “What?” She demanded.

  “By the way, we haven’t been properly introduced.” The Governor waved her back down. When she was planted again, still looking after the disappearing lackey, he continued. “My name is Jackson, and I’m the Planetary Governor of the Colonial Republic of Tavar. You are an honored guest, Captain Kendra. The government of this planet does not long forget those who defended our system against invasion and certain death.”

  She focused on him. “So you’re the boss of the whole system?”

  He smiled. “Well, your Fleet would probably disagree with that assessment, but since Tavar itself makes up ninety-five percent of the population of the system, it feels like semantics to me.”

  “You seem young to run a star system.”

  “I could say the same about you and your war hero stories.”

  She shrugged. “I started young.”

  He nodded, the overhead light reflecting off his smooth pate. “As did I. My father was the Governor before me. He died while in office and I was elected in his place.”

  “Quite a vote of confidence.”

  “And your family?”

  “My father is Admiral of the Fleet.”

  Jackson smiled dryly. “Of course he is.”

  Another lackey knocked and came in, carrying a tray with mugs and a carafe which she set on the table. Kendra glanced over her uniform as she turned to go.

  Jackson leaned over and grasped the carafe and a mug. “You need a fresh uniform. Coffee?”

  She had smelled the drink but now it hit her. “That’s real coffee.” It was a statement, not a question.

  He smiled again, this time more g
enuinely. He suddenly seemed more human to her. “I have a—special place—for growing Earth coffee.” He poured her a cup and passed it across the table. “There’s other ingredients on the tray, but personally I prefer it plain.”

  Eagerly, she sipped it. “Impressive. You sure know how to entertain a lady.”

  He waved his mug at her in salute. “Spoken like a true spacer. I know you people love your coffee.” He took another sip. “I think half the time your officers come down just for the coffee.”

  She set the mug down warily. “Are they here now?”

  He looked at her over his mug. “They were. Left earlier today.”

  The black liquid called to her. She lifted the mug for another whiff and sip. “Excellent.”

  He chuckled. “This is my personal stash.”

  Another, longer pull at the mug and Kendra set it down. “This table.”

  “From Earth. One of my ancestors brought it along during the initial colonization phase.”

  “It looks official. Beat up, though.”

  He set his own mug down and pushed it away from him, empty. “There is a seal of some sort on the top there,” he nodded in the direction, “but the letters and symbols mean nothing. Now, we need to talk about your return to the Fleet and what to do with these strange people who had held you.”

  “What? No, they weren’t holding me against my will. Well, not exactly.”

  Jackson said, “according the man’s own story, he commandeered a ship and captured you and another Fleet officer.”

  Kendra stretched; the coffee was having the desired effect. “It was…chaotic. Captain Heres had sent us to negotiate with them and then the Prax attacked. I had little choice but to effect a landing aboard their ship. Afterward, something went wrong and Heres opened fire on us.”

  “Heres?”

  She nodded heavily. “Yes, that one. He was there on the Goliath, too.”

  “Hardly expected for him to fire on you.”

  She ran her hand over the old table. “That’s why I don’t want to go back. Yet.”

  The silence stretched on a bit long.

  Finally, he bent over and took the carafe, refilling his mug and hers. “So, you throw your lot in with these people?”

  She pulled her mug to herself, letting the question hang as she drank it. After she’d set it down, she spun it slowly on the table by the handle with a finger. “Technically, my father expelled me from active duty. I was on a transport to Coloran, to play the returning hero daughter, when Halloran and his gang took over the ship.” She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “At first I was…me…about it. I wanted him locked up. But he has a way about getting you to believe in him.”

  Jackson nodded appreciatively. “A worthy characteristic in a leader.”

  She leaned forward and put her forearms on the table. “Everything happens for a reason, right?”

  He blinked, taken aback by her sudden directness. He set down his mug. “Yes, I think so. We believe that God created everything, directs everything.”

  Kendra nodded, thinking about the God reference. “Then, if that’s even remotely true, then we were meant to meet. And there was a purpose for me to get kicked out of the military. And even for Halloran to be sucked through time.”

  “What?”

  She remembered that Halloran had omitted that part in his narrative. “Traveling all the way from Earth to Agra to here,” she covered.

  Jackson stood up and paced to the window at the far wall, his back to her. “We need to understand how the Prax are getting quantities of steel.” He turned back. “Are you requesting asylum on my planet? Or would you prefer to be repatriated to your military in orbit above?”

  Kendra felt the weight of a momentous decision coming on. “So I can request asylum here?”

  He nodded. “People come here all the time to find a fresh start in the mines, the businesses.”

  “But if I leave…”

  “You’ll be outside of our protection.”

  Memories came back to Kendra. “But Tavar is a nation-state.”

  “We are. With full rights granted to our citizenry.”

  Kendra stood, drawing in a large breath and exhaling it. Feeling the life she remembered slipping from her. She nodded. “Governor Jackson. I formally request asylum and citizenship of the Republic of Tavar.”

  The lift door opened and the largest of the armed guards prodded the group from the back with, “Let’s go.”

  The room they entered was a cargo bay of some sort, and the first thing the men noticed was the concentration of soldiers at a far end. The group of at least fifty were busy loading bundles onto floating carts. Guns were everywhere.

  Wilson was next to Halloran and Reyes as they walked. He nodded at the soldiers. “Wonder where they’re going.”

  The guard prompted them. “This way.” He led them through a doorway and down a short metal-walled hall to another room. The bright lights hurt Halloran’s eyes as he squinted to look around.

  The first he saw was Kendra. But she looked different. She was dressed in one of the planet’s uniforms of gray and orange. More importantly, she had a sidearm strapped to her waist. His eyes went from her waist to the man standing next to her. He was a wild-looking one, with careless locks of hair spilling down over his uniform collar.

  She saw the question in Halloran’s eyes. “Good, you’re here. We need to get to work.”

  He stepped to her. “What is going on, Kendra?” He asked without looking at the man next to her, who he noticed was smiling oddly at them.

  Kendra put a hand on his shoulder, which he found interesting and comfortable at the same time. “The Governor of the Republic of Tavar has offered you and your crew asylum.”

  “Asylum!” exclaimed Reyes at his side.

  She continued. “More than that, he extends the opportunity to become Tavarran citizens and continue under the protection of his government.”

  He saw her grin, one of pleasure, and found himself grinning back at her. “How did you pull that off?”

  The man with the wild hair spoke up. “Our people owe Captain Kendra a great debt. This is the least we could do.” He looked suddenly serious. “Now, you must decide. We move into the lower levels in force and need your assistance. Are you with us?”

  Halloran took her hand in his and removed it gently from his shoulder, turning to his men who all stood around, looking expectantly at him.

  “This is sudden,” offered Elias Whitney.

  Frank DeBartelo looked at the rest of them. “Whatever. We’ve done what is necessary to get home and this is just one more thing. No one’ll ever believe when we get back, anyway.”

  Halloran shared DeBartelo’s wish but had a feeling that getting back would be much harder. “Unless anyone has any profound statements to make, I’ll decide for us all.”

  “You do it, sir. We’re here with you,” said Wilson.

  With a nod of confirmation from Reyes, Halloran turned back to the waiting Tavarran. “What do you need from us?”

  “For now? Just to repeat after me…”

  Chapter 18

  “Man, it’s cold down here.” Seaman Rick Patredes adjusted the stock on his weapon and tapped its side. “My hands are going numb even through these gloves.” He held up the hand in question. “And these are nice gloves.”

  “Standard-issue down here. It’s your offworlder blood that’s not thick enough, that’s all,” replied the Tavarran soldier named Anders. He nudged the Earther with an elbow. “Stay tight with the man in front of you,” he cautioned. “If the lights go out, it’ll get dark real quick. You get disoriented immediately. Wouldn’t want to shoot anyone in the back by accident out of panic.”

  Patredes glanced over his shoulder at the man. “You sound as though it’s happened to you.”

  Anders shrugged without taking his eyes off of the Seaman.

  “Quiet back there!” Hissed the group leader, an older Tavarran who seemed to have excellent hearing
, thought Patredes. He has to be fifteen yards in front of us. The string of men moved through the tunnel, weapon lights on and comm units on live mode. They were hunting…something.

  For Patredes and the others from the Serapis, the gear-up had been both familiar and foreign. The weaponry was unusual—plasma rifles and wands that fired a stun charge, the ones they’d been caught with—but the process felt comfortable. Gear check, comms check, cinching down belts and rigging. Slings. Some things are always going to be the same. He felt the light heft of the rifle in his hands. Lighter than the M6 he had qualified on as a new Navy recruit in 2027 but bulkier, apparently due to the plasma generator housed inside the business end. He briefly sighted through the remarkably familiar red-dot rig. It was supremely comfortable in his hands. Anders had explained the weapon’s functions once they had been buddied up, explaining that the gun had been developed by the Fleet a generation ago.

  When the Tavarran had asked Patredes about Earth, he’d remembered the Skipper’s admonition to the group to keep the background chatter to a minimum—in particular any references to time-travel. Mr. Halloran had explained that the English language was, amazingly, still known within the colony and that everyone they’d interact with would immediately know they were from Earth. But the time travel bit was to stay off-limits.

  So, Patredes had dodged the direct question. “We got off as soon as we could. It’s a war zone.”

  Anders had pressed. “So what part of the planet were you raised in? The uniform says ‘U.S.N.’ on the insignia. What military is that part of?”

  Patredes remembered thinking that he would have to get aggressive in his evasions, only to have Anders put up his hands in mock surrender with, “Hey, I understand. We see all types come through here. They want to disappear. I think you might want to, yes?”

  Patredes had nodded emphatically, glad to have dodged the bullet.

  He wondered how the others were getting on. The team from Serapis—the ship still another off-limits topic with the Tavarrans, according to Skipper—had been broken up among the colonial police soldiers. Four teams of twelve, as Patredes recalled. His team included Petty Officer Wilson as well as himself. After the decision was made to penetrate the deep levels in force and flush out whatever was hiding down there, everyone had put on their game face and got to work. But even Patredes knew that the story of the Serapis’ hull, known only to the Governor and his select few leaders, would almost guarantee an encounter with Prax. For Patredes, that was all right. He thought of Wallis and Joyner, two close friends who died that first horrible day. Patredes wanted to kill some Prax.