by S. E. Smith
He just didn’t want to believe that now.
“I see where I stand with you both,” Sona proclaimed. With the lift of one shoulder, she pulled a hand from the pocket of her synth-leathers and pointed the business end of a stunpulse at him and Garr. “I will protect my mission.”
The sharp rip of the stunpulse exploded through Rigel’s nervous system, and he crumpled, landing hard on the deck.
Rigel awoke strapped to the co-pilot seat. His arms had been wrenched behind the seatback and his wrists bound tightly. Probably with the same poly restraints that now hobbled his ankles. His training overrode the instinct to groan aloud at the sharp throbbing in his head.
A quick sweep of the Flight Deck through a slit of one eyelid gave a visual of Sona in the captain’s couch with Garr’s helmet covering her head. What in Empora’s Hades was she doing? Where was Captain Garr?
The sight of his SpyDog curled up in Sona’s lap brought a sharp stab of betrayal.
“Bad person,” he mentally communicated to Maura. “Help Rigel.”
Maura opened her eyes and perked her pointed ears. “Good friend,” Maura argued. “Good!”
Sona again had her laze-pistol strapped to her side. How had she recovered it?
His StarDog’s cheerful thoughts filtered through. “Maura remembered place.” The locking weapons bin. “Maura brought tool.” His tachi-set!
Maura had shown Sona where and how to access her weapon.
No! Rigel took a long, silent breath. How had the Rathskian managed to corrupt his long-time partner? Drugs? Treats? Belly rubs?
“I know you’re awake,” Sona said brusquely.
Rigel fully opened his eyes. “Where’s Garr?”
“Strapped into the seat behind you. He isn’t conscious yet, but he’ll be all right.”
“What are you doing, Sona?”
“Preventing you both from interfering with my mission. Once we reach the rendezvous point, I’ll turn you over to the authorities.”
“And what rendezvous point is that?” Not the Network’s, no doubt.
Her visor swiveled his way. He couldn’t see her eyes, but her lips were drawn into a thin, tight line. She didn’t answer his question.
He was so screwed. She may not have killed him or Garr, but her Alliance cronies wouldn’t be so considerate.
Two Network assets would be a great prize to the Alliance, and they wouldn’t hesitate to use torture to make them divulge everything they knew about the Network. And afterward, their heads would be delivered to the Network as a message.
And Maura?
Sona knew her capabilities. Rigel didn’t think she’d harm his partner, or allow her to be harmed, but if the information Maura carried never reached Command, they couldn’t act on it. This window of opportunity would be lost.
The odds had never been in the Network’s favor. The Alliance had always had the upper hand and far greater military might, but the data Maura had secreted inside her could even the playing field. Without it, the Network would do what they’d always done—wait. Wait and plan. Plan and wait. Hope for a moment that might never come again.
They’d eventually be crushed, and any last hope for freedom would be stamped out. The Alliance would endure, perpetuating tyranny and slavery. The Ithian Empire would continue their demand for human tributes to support their horrific meat market. The Rathskians would continue to terrorize the galaxy as the enforcers of the Alliance.
If Sona was the one standing in the way of this information reaching Network Command, he’d have no choice but to eliminate her as an obstacle, if he had the chance.
With Maura’s help or without it.
Behind him, Garr sputtered to life. Sona angled her head slightly, signaling her awareness that the captain was regaining consciousness.
“What in the Sixth Hell are you doing, woman?” Garr rasped, his voice cracking.
“Monitoring for Alliance traffic,” she replied coolly.
“Take that drive helmet off! You don’t know how to fly the ship! You have no idea how those systems work. One wrong move and we’ll all be dying very agonizing deaths.”
“I’m not going to be flying the ship,” she answered. “You are.”
“Wasn’t that what I was doing before you stomped onto my bridge making demands?”
“I can’t allow you to threaten my mission.”
“Your mission,” Garr barked. “Just what the hell is your mission?”
She drew a deep breath, tilting her head down to scan the control screen readouts. “Network failsafe.”
“What the blue devil does that mean?”
“It means I’m on your side, believe it or not.”
“I choose not,” Garr growled.
“Sona…” Rigel said. “If you’re Network, why do this?”
“You left me no choice,” she said, pushing off the helmet. She stood and faced him. “I’m doing this for the Network.”
Rigel looked up at her.
“Yes. I really am on your side. And I can prove it to you.”
Maura jumped onto Sona’s shoulder, draping her long golden tail around the woman’s neck. “Sona good!” the StarDog insisted.
“I can hear your StarDog,” Sona told him.
Rigel angled his head away from her, but his eyes remained locked on her face. “What are you talking about?”
“I have a Network implant. It records my brainwave activity and transmits it to Command whenever I’m in proximity of a skip buoy. My guess is it uses the same technology as that implanted in your StarDog. Maura can talk to me. Maura can talk to you. But you and I can’t talk to each other.”
He met her scowl, stare-for-stare. “Why would the Network give you an implant?”
“Because the Network needed a way to track their asset,” she answered matter-of-factly. Her piercing gaze pinned him.
Rigel shifted on the flight couch, subtly testing the strength of his bonds. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth about the implant?”
“Ask your SpyDog to repeat the embarrassing bit of information I just gave her.”
“Maura?”
“Sona likes Rigel.”
He rolled his head on the headrest to regard her with a lift of one brow. “Yeah?” His effort to sound flippant failed. If she’d intended to throw him off-kilter, she’d succeeded.
“What did she say?” Garr grumbled from behind him.
Rigel never broke eye contact with the she-Rathskian. “Her feelings about a particular matter.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Seems my snoring is obnoxious,” Rigel said.
The hint of a smile teased her lips then disappeared.
“Right,” Garr grumbled.
“Think you can trust me now?” Sona asked.
Rigel peered up at her, parted his lips to speak, then closed his mouth again. The Network implants carried proprietary software. No one could’ve put a device in her head that was compatible with Maura’s except the Network, and their devices wouldn’t operate outside Network systems. She had to be telling the truth. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I had to be absolutely sure I could trust you.”
“Now you know you can. Untie me?”
“If you’re willing to work with me, I’ll free you.”
Rigel swallowed hard. “Done.”
Sona looked Maura’s way. The StarDog squeaked and jumped from her shoulder to his flight couch, working on the poly restraints binding his ankles with her dexterous little paws. After a few moments, his bonds fell away, and his partner scampered up his body and over his shoulder to disappear behind his flight couch. The straps binding his wrists tugged as Maura worked them free.
Rigel looked up at Sona as Maura finished the job and the tight pressure on his arms released. He pulled his hands forward slowly, his shoulders protesting with sharp pangs as he rubbed the aching muscles. “Thank you.”
He rose from the flight couch. Garr’s gruff voice intruded on t
he look that passed between them. “And what about me?”
“I’ll release you if you agree not to fly to LaGuardia and take us straight to the Network transport.”
“I can’t do that.” His glare shifted to Rigel. “And neither can you.”
Rigel faced him. “I have my orders, but you need to explain why this detour to LaGuardia is so important.”
Garr eased out his breath with a subtle shake of his head. “That Ithian blockade on Banna was all about the Alliance trying to capture Commodore Gant—a LaGuardian. When Specter blew their blockade, one of their big battleships was destroyed in the process. As a result, they’ve threatened immediate retaliation against LaGuardia. They’re going to occupy the planet.”
“If the Ithians intend to retaliate against LaGuardia, why would we want to go there?” Sona demanded.
“Because LaGuardia is the home of the Royal Draxian Archives. The records of our history that the Ithians are desperately trying to erase so they can replace it with their lies about our past. They want to bury the truth. High Queen Katrina was real. Our origins on the planet called Earth is truth. The Flame and the Fire Lords did exist. The vortex they passed through was a reality. It’s all there. All the lost knowledge. All the forgotten centuries. Almost fourteen thousand years of it. And it’s in jeopardy.”
“I know of these archives,” Sona said pensively. “They preserve important history for my people, too. But what does it have to do with us?”
“We’ve been directed to acquire the archives on datacells and deliver the contents to the Network. Before the gigadam Ithians can destroy it forever.”
“And with Commodore Gant missing in action, this is a priority for the Network?” Rigel questioned.
“This may be one of the most important things the Network ever does,” Garr declared. “Whether they succeed or fail with their other plans.”
Rigel considered his words. Yes, there was value in safeguarding important historical records, but it wasn’t his priority. “Why us? Why not send a Network battleship or destroyer to secure this data?”
“Think about it,” Garr grated, showing his impatience. “The Alliance doesn’t realize the Network has a fleet. They can’t show that hand. Not yet. But one small, aging wreck of a transport touching down on LaGuardia isn’t going to attract attention.”
“There’s truth in your words,” Sona conceded, “but it doesn’t change the reality that I must reach the transport to MONA Loa in time.”
“And if I give you my solemn word you’ll get to MONA Loa on schedule?”
“You can’t make that promise.”
“I can and just did.”
Sona blinked. Twice. Slowly.
“Consider this. Why would they order me to collect these records if they weren’t going to be delivered straight to MONA Loa? What would be the point?”
Sona shifted her weight. “You are speaking the truth.”
“And nothing’s going to happen while I’m trussed up here. The chronometer’s running down.”
“He’s right about that,” Rigel agreed.
Sona hesitated then gave a stiff nod. “Untie him.”
Rigel worked the poly-straps around Garr’s ankles after mentally instructing Maura to release those on his hands.
The moment the straps fell away, Garr bounded up and grabbed Sona’s weapon hand, attempting to wrench the laze-pistol away. She drove her arms up and out, breaking Garr’s hold and pushing him back. Grabbing a fistful of his uniform, she used leverage to send him crashing to the deck.
Garr gasped for breath, the wind knocked out of him.
Maura bounced on the deck beside Garr, chattering angrily. “No, no, no!”
Rigel thrust his hand out, blocking Sona’s charge. “He’s down. You won this round.”
She backed off a step, but raised her laze-pistol.
“You taking her side?” Garr barked. “You believe that cant-assed story of hers?”
“My StarDog does.”
“And I suppose the little beast told you that?”
“She did. In so many words.”
The captain gave Sona a murderous glare before fixing his attention on Rigel. “If you’re wrong about her and she manages to thwart this mission, it’ll be high treason. And it’ll be on you.”
Rigel didn’t blink. “I’ll accept that responsibility.”
“You realize she just attempted a hostile takeover of my ship?”
“If she was really a hostile,” Rigel countered, “we’d both be dead right now.”
“Not necessarily,” Garr growled. “The Alliance would love to get their hands on us, now wouldn’t they?”
Rigel turned his head to Sona. “She’s not Alliance. She’s one of us.”
“Even if you’re right, we still have a problem. Because two of us have orders to go to LaGuardia, and one of us is dead set against that.”
“That’s why we’re going to make a decision,” Rigel said in a calm voice. “The three of us, jointly. What are we going to do?”
Sona slowly lowered the laze-pistol. “I understand the importance of your orders now. I agree those records should be preserved.” She dropped her gaze to Garr, who was still prone on the deck. “If he can explain how we can collect those archives and guarantee I still reach the transport on time, I’ll agree to this detour.”
“That wasn’t what I pledged,” Garr countered, grabbing the arm of his flight couch and pulling himself to a sitting position. “I didn’t say I’d get you to the transport, I said I’d get you to MONA Loa Station.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It does, actually.” Garr struggled to his feet with a grimace. “There’s another transport. It will be at your disposal, just as soon as we collect those archives.”
“What other transport?” Rigel asked. “Specter is the only other ship with M-drive and she’s missing.”
“Not true.”
“Explain.”
“Aye. I’ll do that,” he said through clenched teeth. “But first I’ll be collecting that pistol and confiscating the stunpulse you pocketed. You won’t be using either on me again.”
Sona hesitated then reluctantly turned over the laze-pistol. To Rigel.
“And the stunpulse?” Garr growled.
Sona pulled the device from the concealed pocket in her synth-leathers and also handed it to Rigel. Garr plucked Rigel’s tachi-set off the deck and deposited it in the weapons bin, setting the lock before stepping away. Rigel secured the two weapons inside and closed the door.
“Strap in,” Garr said, fixing Sona with a frown. “I’ll explain on the way.”
Garr settled in his flight couch and donned his drive helmet. The thrusters engaged as he changed course, and Rigel and Sona took their seats.
“Your knowledge of Mennelsohn’s prototypes is outdated,” he informed them.
“In what way?” Sona demanded.
“There aren’t two M-drive ships in the Network fleet. There are three.” He’d leaned forward to give the flight monitor an affectionate pat. “Meet Banshee.”
Rigel squinted at the captain. “You’re saying this ship…”
“That’s right. This is Zaviar Mennelsohn’s B-class vessel, his original working prototype. We’ll be delivering more history to MONA Loa than just the Draxian archives. You’re aboard the legend herself, the very ship that proved all Zaviar’s theories, proved that DEDspace itself actually existed.”
Rigel’s jaw went slack. “Where the Hades has this vessel been hiding?”
“Not hiding. Scrapped. One of Zaviar’s protégés found her rusting in a boneyard on Dartis when he was scrounging for parts. The Network recovered her, and I was dispatched to help the team get her flying and transfer her to Banna for complete restoration. That’s what I was doing at Calos Spaceport when Wisdom blew up. And that’s why she looks like salvage—because not so long ago, she truly was. But while she may not be as sleek and refined as her more modern counterparts, she’s just as c
apable.”
“If this ship has M-drive, why didn’t we just boost to MONA Loa as soon as we left Banna?” Sona asked.
“Because we didn’t have clearance, woman. We were on standby while the Network was dealing with other crises. MONA Loa is the most secure station in the galaxy and right now, tensions are very high. You don’t approach Network headquarters without a specific invite. That’s what I was waiting on when we got pinged to do this run to LaGuardia.”
“All right,” Sona conceded. “I believe you. But we could’ve avoided a lot of drama if you’d just clued us in earlier about this ship’s ability.”
“That was Command’s call, too,” Garr said. “They wanted this ship’s identity kept under wraps until the moment we engage the M-drive. But it was the last chip I had to bargain with during our little stand-off…so I played it.”
“Will you engage the M-drive en route to LaGuardia?” Sona asked.
“I will not,” Garr stated emphatically. “Remember the part about not attracting the attention of the Alliance? We’re going to limp into LaGuardia all slow and quiet-like.”
It made sense, but they’d also had no verification that anything Garr had told them was true.
Rigel traded glances with Sona, wishing he could know if she was buying Garr’s explanation or not.
Wait. He could find out.
“Ask Sona if she believes Garr,” Rigel relayed to his SpyDog.
She raised her head and perked her golden ears. A few moments later, she answered. “Sona will go.”
Not exactly what he’d asked, but it appeared they’d reached a truce.
Next stop, LaGuardia.
Chapter Eleven
Rigel peered out the ship’s vu-portal, taking in the sweeping vision of Gellen Plaza.
It had taken the full two days to reach the planet, and with nothing else to do but wait, he and Sona had spent a good portion of that time in their quarters together.
Just talking, at first. Reaching an understanding of why she’d seen no recourse but to take action against him and Garr. She admitted it hadn’t been easy to see the flash of betrayal in his eyes when she’d fired the stunpulse, or to watch him drop, unconscious, to the deck.
