Wings of Earth- Season One

by Eric Michael Craig

  “Did the hard break cause the explosion?”

  “That is unlikely,” Marti said. “The violence of the event indicates volatile chemicals or another explosive reaction. Given the oxidizer contamination on Crewman Primm, it would be easy to assume that the cause was an explosive device detonated in the airlock.”

  “Maybe, but the question is, who set it off?” he asked. “What happened next, Mr. Primm?”

  “The explosion. And then I was falling down the lift shaft.”

  “You said there were others. Did you leave them behind in the airlock?” the investigator asked.

  “I didn’t go back for them if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Parelli leaned back against a bulkhead and let out a slow hiss of air. Turning his attention to Ammo he asked, “Who are you exactly? And how did you get in here? Other than the stunt with your dozer girlfriend that is.”

  She reached into her thinskin and pulled out her identification tag. The investigator blinked once. His two officers did more than that, since where she had it hidden meant a fair amount of skin flashed into the open. She smiled, realizing that she had pushed him out of his frame just as he tried to regain the controlling hand.

  “I’m Tiamorra Rayce the load broker for Walker Space Transportation and the new co-pilot and DSL operator of the Olympus Dawn. I just finished my level three testing, which is why we were planning to do some drinking.”

  He took her ID and scanned it into his thinpad, nodding when it chirped. She was clean of crimes.

  “And I got here via shuttle through one of the lower egress docks,” she added. “I just looked for where the gravity was still working and assumed that was where the lights were still on.”

  “The captain has been arrested,” Marti announced.

  Parelli nodded. “I don’t know if that’s true. I’m pretty sure he’s only being questioned at the moment, but I think we’ve already got a better suspect in custody.”

  “You do, that’s good news,” Ammo said.

  “It’s all in how you look at it, Miss Rayce.” He nodded at the two men with him and tilted his head at the handler.

  “You don’t mean him?”

  “He was the closest person to whatever happened. By proximity alone that makes him the alpha suspect,” he said. “Whether or not that sticks will depend on what else we discover as we go along.”

  Quinn growled, opening one of his eyes and squinting with the other. “I’ve already told you, I caught two people trying to wire a bomb into the airlock.”

  “Who were they?”

  “I didn’t ask their names as I was screaming and gasping on the floor,” he hissed.

  “Then, where are they?” He held his hands out to the side in a melodramatic exaggeration of a shrug.

  “Probably scattered all over the deck, or what’s left of it. I know at least one of them wasn’t in condition to run. Unless you see somebody lying around who was closer to the blast than me, I doubt either of them made it.”

  Parelli tapped his collarcomm and listened as someone spoke in his earpiece. He nodded but didn’t say anything. “That’s convenient, but unfortunately it means your word is all we’ve got to go on. That’s a damned skinny story too.”

  “You can’t think he did it,” Ammo said. “For frak sake, he almost got caught in it.”

  “He wouldn’t be the first terrorist to blow himself up, either accidentally, or on purpose.”

  “That’s insane!”

  “Terrorists often are.” Three more officers showed up carrying rifles. All three wore red placards. They were taking the potential threat of Quinn’s physical stature seriously. The handler stood up and looked like he was about to prove they needed more help, even with eyes that looked like he wasn’t likely to see anything well enough to hit it.

  “Quinn let’s not make it worse. You go in with them, and I’ll meet you there in a few,” she said. “Will you be taking him to the same security lockdown as Captain Walker?”

  “We’ve only got one,” Parelli said. “Chief hasn’t decided to file charges yet, but I think that’s only a matter of formality.”

  “We’ll see about that,” she said, turning to face Quinn and adding, “Just don’t make waves until I get there.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Ethan sat at a small steel table in a plasglass cubicle, one of many that filled the interrogation facility in the security offices of Phrygian Center. Although the lighting design made it easier to see in than out, he watched when they brought Quinn in and put him in the room next door. A mixture of relief and confusion washed over him.

  He was alive, but obviously they’d taken him into custody, too.

  He couldn’t hear what they were saying to the handler, but he could tell by his body language he wasn’t happy with the conversation. The three officers that escorted him in tried to push him down into the seat, but he was having none of it. It looked like mice trying to attack a lion, until he shrugged them off and collapsed into the chair. One of them latched his hands to the table in front of him and they retreated, leaving him alone. He dropped his head and banged it onto the surface for several good strokes.

  What could he have possibly done to get hauled in? Ethan wondered.

  No one had spoken a word to him since they took him out of the Plowboy, and he still had no clue what was going on. They’d taken his earpiece and collarcomm once they put him in the room, but other than the fact that he was isolated, they’d treated him well. Professionally, in fact. Now that he was in a room, he wasn’t even bound.

  He stared at the handler through the wall and tried to guess what landed him in the lock up. It surprised him when the door behind him beeped and swung open. He turned, expecting to see an interrogator but Ammo stood there with another woman.

  “Captain Walker, please come with us.” the woman said. She wore a gold metal ID placard on her belt with her name: E Zaslow. She wore a civilian business suit. She was high enough up the air supply that a uniform was an unnecessary addition to her authority.

  Ammo held her expression unreadable as Ethan stared at her for several seconds. He shrugged and stood up. “What’s going on?” he asked as the woman turned and walked back out into the narrow corridor between the cubicles. She waited for him to follow her.

  “I’m getting you out of here,” Ammo whispered as he walked past her.

  “You got a message to Jefferson?” he asked.

  “I got help lined up,” she said. “Chief Zaslow will want you to answer a few questions for her, but this should all be over once they march you through the process.”

  “What about Quinn?”

  “Him too,” she said.

  They stopped outside the door to the cubicle where the handler sat. A single guard with a stunner rifle stood across the hall watching him.

  “Cut him loose and bring him with us,” the chief said, glancing at the officer and jerking her head toward Quinn.

  “Are you sure, ma’am?” he asked. “Parelli said he was to stay in irons. Just to be safe.”

  “He won’t be a problem, but if it makes you happier, you will come with us until we get to my office.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, shaking his head and walking over to palm the lock plate.

  Zaslow pulled out a small key-tab and handed it to Ammo. “You do the honors. He won’t be stupid if you’re the one letting him out.”

  As Ammo opened Quinn’s binder cuffs, the woman turned to Ethan and said, “You are a very lucky man, Captain.”

  “I am?”

  She nodded. “We’ve just discovered some facts that get you your walking papers.”

  He looked at her skeptically. “So, we really are free to go?”

  “We have some things to clear up first,” she said, stepping back to make room for the handler. “There will be some necessary caveats, of course. We’ll discuss it when we are in my office.”

  Quinn came out into the hall rubbing his wrists. He looked like he’d been cryi
ng.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Ethan asked.

  “A face full of chemicals,” he said. “I’ll be alright.”

  The guard hung behind them with his stunner pointed at the small of the handler’s back. He obviously wasn’t ready to assume that there wouldn’t be trouble.

  They followed Chief Zaslow out of the interrogation block and up a set of spiral stairs. It wasn’t the way they’d brought Ethan in, and he was confused. They came out on a landing that opened up onto a balcony overlooking a massive command center. It looked more suited to running fleet operations than a small station’s security forces.

  “Nice set up,” he whispered leaning over to Ammo.

  “Phrygian Center isn’t such a backwater, Captain,” Zaslow said, glancing back over her shoulder and showing an expression for the first time. It might have been a flash of pride. “About a quarter of the underground market traffic in the Coalition works through here in one way or another. It takes a lot of effort to keep track of everything that’s going on.”

  “Makes sense.” He nodded.

  “We provide intel to law enforcement agencies on more than thirty worlds. Nothing goes on here without us seeing it.”

  “You see it, but you don’t stop it?” Quinn asked. His tone said he didn’t approve.

  “Only things that affect the local public safety,” she said. “Our job is gathering information to take down the bigger networks operating across the system.”

  They stopped outside an office in the middle of the open area. Like all the other rooms they’d passed, the walls were plasglass. Above the door a sign read:

  Privacy is an illusion.

  She palmed the lock plate, and it scanned her biometrics. The door swung open and they followed her in. She turned and nodded to the guard at the rear of the parade. “We’re good. Stand by and you can escort our guests out soon.”

  He nodded, stepping to the side and letting the door close between them.

  Zaslow walked over to her desk and tapped an icon on her console. The surrounding walls faded to translucent. “Privacy is also a luxury for those with power.” There was no irony in her tone. It was obvious that she meant it as a warning not to assume she wasn’t in charge.

  She nodded toward a small conference table off to the side. Once the three of them had taken positions she walked over and leaned forward putting her hands flat on the surface. “Because of our capabilities here, I’m sure you can understand why I’m troubled by this incident. Somehow a terrorist organization pulled off an operation without us catching it in the air supply.”

  “A terrorist organization?” Ethan asked.

  “It appears that this was done by the Red Wall.”

  “They’re a militant faction of the One Earthers,” Ammo explained.

  “The isolationist group?” Ethan had heard of them.

  She nodded. “The Red Wall is responsible for bombing the Robinson Medical Center on Mars.”

  “And you say the same group did this?” Quinn asked.

  “That’s appearing likely,” the chief said. “The explosive devices that detonated in the airlocks on Stanchion Six were similar to the ones used to destroy RMC.”

  “Terrorist groups usually take credit for their attacks,” the handler pointed out.

  “I haven’t heard anything about the attack on Mars being claimed by anybody,” Ethan said.

  “You’re correct, and for investigative purposes, you won’t. They did claim it, but that isn’t public knowledge beyond the law enforcement agencies on the ground there in Robinson Colony,” she acknowledged. “Shortly after the attack here, we received a report from the lead investigator on Mars. He identified the explosive compound used and wanted to know if this was a similar device. He also described the peculiar anti-discovery failsafe that Mr. Primm encountered.”

  The captain leaned back in his chair and studied Quinn’s face. That explained why he looked so bad.

  “The person who discovered the bomb at RMC wasn’t as lucky as your crewmember here.” She glanced at the handler.

  “Why the hell would terrorists attack your base here?”

  “That’s a good question, Captain,” Zaslow said. She sat down at the end of the table and glared at him. “But I’m thinking it wasn’t the stanchion that was the target.”

  “You think it was us?” Ammo asked. She didn’t sound surprised.

  “There were two explosions. One in each airlock where your ships were berthed.”

  “We don’t have any enemies,” he said, realizing that might not be precisely true. In fact, it probably wasn’t. “At least none that would be terrorists.”

  “Apparently you do. This particular brand of human purists has your name. I should also point out they’re very good at what they do. You’re lucky to have snaked out without losing some blood… this time.”

  Ethan glanced at Quinn and raised an eyebrow. They lost some blood, just not critical blood. “Purists? Why?”

  She shook her head. “I was hoping you could drain some light into that for me.”

  “I don’t see why they’d be targeting us. Maybe they were after the station and we happened to be hooked up to the stanchion where they decided to show off.”

  “I’d say that’s a long shot,” she said.

  Ammo nodded but didn’t offer why she agreed. Ethan caught the strange look in her eyes and realized she knew something that she didn’t want to say in public. Or maybe anywhere.

  “Here’s my thinking on the matter,” Zaslow said, swinging her chair to the side and tapping her fingernails on the tabletop. “We’ve got enough trouble with riffscum and I don’t need Phrygian Center between you and your newfound dance partners. It doesn’t matter to me what you’ve done to get their attention, but if you’re marked as a target, you need to clear out of here. Yesterday.”

  Ethan nodded watching her hand rather than her face. “I thought you wanted to ask us some questions. I don’t have all the answers I want either. Maybe we can—”

  “I’ve already heard enough to know you have no clue what you’re up against. Keeping you here any longer for more pointless chatter is just making it worse. It is time for you to move out.”

  “We’ve still got work ongoing,” he said, looking up and locking eyes with her. “We can’t leave until that’s done.”

  “I don’t think you realize that wasn’t a statement open to interpretation. You’re going through the airlock, with or without a suit. Up to you. Finishing your upgrades is not my problem since you paid your balance for work done to date. It makes me no difference which way we play this.”

  “And we’ve got four handlers rostering in at 0600 tomorrow,” Quinn said.

  “You can contact the Union Steward to get them moved forward. I’ll have my people escort you to your shuttle, and you can wait there for them,” she said, never glancing away from Ethan.

  Ammo reached out and laid her hand on his forearm, squeezing hard enough that he had no choice but to look at her. “Boss, we can patch this together later. I think we’d be smart to take Chief Zaslow’s generous offer not to hold you for the duration of the investigation. We should make for our next port of call.”

  “Your broker’s got that square, Captain Walker.” She stood up and waited for them to get the idea that she was done with the interview.

  “I’ll have Parelli process you out. You can pick up your possessions at the front desk.”

  “But—”

  “The door is that way.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Marti stood outside the airlock where Ammo had docked their shuttle. It’s Gendyne body taking up most of the space in the corridor. Three uniformed base security stood glaring at the automech in a classic standoff. It was almost comical in its pointlessness because Ethan knew that when it came to patience and immobility, Marti had no equal in the organic world.

  It remained motionless, only acknowledging their arrival by blinking one of its work lights, giving the techn
ological equivalent of a wink.

  Sitting on a bench along one side of the airlock three women and a single man sat. Each of them had a bag at their feet. They all snapped to as Ethan entered the airlock.

  “Obviously, Zaslow wanted to make sure we were leaving straight out,” he said glancing at Quinn. “I assume these are the new recruits?”

  He nodded. “Her ladyship is efficient.”

  “It’ll be tight,” Ammo said, looking frustrated. “I brought the small shuttle.” There were only seats for four in the small shuttle. And no possibility they could get the automech in there at the same time.

  “I am standing by with the large shuttle,” Marti said. “As soon as you undock, I will attach to this lock and we can load the new handlers into it.”

  “Good thinking,” he said. “Quinn, you ride with them and Ammo and I will take the first boat.”

  “I figured you two would want to have words,” he said. His face showed that he’d read her face the same way Ethan had while they were in the security office.

  “Maybe,” the captain agreed, stepping into the shuttle and collapsing into the co-pilot seat. The door sealed behind Ammo and he let out a huge sigh of relief as she dropped into the chair beside him.

  “That could have been a lot uglier than it was,” she said as she pulled herself forward and logged into the controls.

  “Yah. I’m assuming you got Jefferson to pull some power play to get us out of there?” Their legal advisor was a powerhouse for pushing bureaucrats around but, given how bad this could have gone, this was a miracle.

  “Actually no,” she admitted. “Kaycee had him on his way out here, but I took it a different direction. What matters is that it worked.”

  “Care to explain?”

  She slid her hands over the thrusters and pushed the shuttle back from the docking clamps. Focusing on maneuvering, she shook her head. “We should call Jefferson off. Unless this gets messy, and Zaslow changes her mind before we leave orbit, we won’t need a legal advisor.”

  “How the frak did we end up with One Earthers on our ass?”

  She shot him a side eye but shrugged. The gray surface of 65 Cybele rotated around and behind them as she launched them toward the Olympus Dawn.