by Kal Spriggs
Frost tracked his cold eyes onto Roush’s face. “She’s Rawn’s sister, Captain.”
He could see right away that that was the wrong tack to take with his second. Of course, he thought, Roush doesn't like being rebuffed and Rawn doesn't seem the type to be interested in men.
“So?” Roush scowled, “I don’t see why you like the kid so—”
“He does his job. He believes in the mission” Frost said, “And he doesn’t let his personal feelings get in the way.” Michael Frost allowed himself a slight smile at the double message. Which had probably gone right past him, of course, he thought with a sigh. “Now go check on the men in the hangar.”
Roush set his jaw, “Yes, sir.”
Colonel Frost shook his head as he watched his second in command stalk away. He understood how Roush had risen in the ranks; the man had a mean streak, a low cunning, and a total hatred of the Guard. Even so, he was little better than a thug. Plus he could get insistent about sleeping with anyone he found attractive, which caused issues, not only with favoritism but also when he was scorned.
He was right about Giran though. Someone had to pay for the agent’s death. Had the woman’s plan come through, Colonel Frost might have overlooked her part in that. As it was… well, he’d have to resolve it differently.
“Wallis.”
His explosives expert moved up, “Yes, Colonel?”
The wizened little man stared at his boss with bland, uncaring eyes. Michael Frost had never seen Wallis smile. He’d lost his family to a Guard ‘peacekeeping’ operation when the Harlequin Sector Guard Fleet seized Ten Sisters.
Frost smiled slightly. Something about Wallis’s total dedication warmed his heart. He nodded a head towards the engine room door, “Go ahead and disarm your trap.” He turned as the small man moved to comply.
“Swaim.”
“Here, Colonel.” Another, younger, man moved forward, datapad in hand.
“What’s the status of the sensors, still down?”
Jeremiah Swaim nodded his head, “I think, so sir.”
“You think?” Colonel Frost’s voice turned cold.
“I – I can’t be totally sure, sir.”
“Why not?”
“The AI closed me out not long after the sensors went down. I can get into some of the secondary systems, but it looks like sensors are still down. It hasn’t reacted to anything else we’ve done so far...”
“You’re guessing,” Frost snapped. “You’re making an assumption that could cost us our lives.” The technician should have informed him as soon as he wasn't certain. They had been acting under the assumption that their activities were masked from the ship; if that’d been incorrect, the consequences would be deadly.
Sweat broke out on Swaim’s forehead. “Sir, it’s only talked to us on the intercom so far. I really don’t think...”
“No. You don’t think.” Colonel Frost growled, suddenly furious. He grabbed Swaim by the collar and pulled him close. “Listen to me, you little shit. You may be our only hacker, but that doesn’t make you indispensable. You find out for certain. If you can’t, you let me know. From now on, we act like the ship can see us. You should have told me as soon as you weren’t sure any more. Now get to work.” He pushed the hacker away.
He took a calming breath and turned away. Then his eyes snapped open, “Sergeant Nelson, tell the men to start watching what they say. We have to assume the damned computer is listening in.”
“Yes, sir.” The big black NCO spun away.
Frost sighed, and rubbed his forehead in a vain attempt to make the headache stop. He had to disable the AI. He had to get life support back online. He had to eliminate the other group on the ship.
And someone has to pay for Giran’s death, he thought grimly.
CHAPTER XI
Time: 0700 Zulu, 16 June 291 G.D.
Location: Fenris, Four days from Vagyr
“What are you doing?”
Rawn looked up from the datapad he’d been studying and to glare at her, clearly angry at the interruption. Finally he just sighed, “I’m tracing out electrical diagrams of the ship.”
“Why?” Mel asked. She didn’t really care, but now that she was here, she wasn’t sure how to get the core away from the terrorists. She glanced at her watch; only three hours left.
Rawn rolled his eyes, “Because it’s important.”
Mel raised an eyebrow, suddenly pleased at returning some of the irritation her brother caused her. “Why?”
He gave her a dirty look and set the datapad down. “Look, the ship’s controlled by an AI, right?”
“Yes?”
He scowled, clearly realizing her intent, but continued on doggedly, “Okay, so a computer needs power to function, right?”
“You’re going to cut the power to the AI?” she asked, startled.
Rawn nodded, “Exactly. And since whatever your group did managed to shut down his internal sensors, he won’t even see it coming.”
“Wow, that’s actually a great idea,” she said, then bit the inside of her lip. It was a good idea. Unfortunately, Fenris could hear them now. She’d probably just blown the best plan to shut the computer down.“What would happen—”
“Without input from the computer, the automation systems would keep the ship running.” Rawn picked up his datapad, scrolling through diagrams. “We’ll still arrive in Vagyr, but we could control the ship from the auxiliary bridge. There’s even a weapons control console there. We wouldn’t be able to operate the ship as well as the AI, but we could use it to fight.”
“Fight who?” she asked.
He snorted, “Guard Fleet, who else?”
“Yeah,” she frowned. “Look, Rawn, I’m as pissed as you that the Guard—” She stopped to clear her throat – “About our parents’ murder. But are you sure—”
He set the datapad down again, “Mel, the UNC has total control of thousands of worlds. The Guard… they’ve got to be stopped. They’re squeezing the hell out of the protectorate worlds. The big families of the original seven colonies control the United Nations Council, and the UNC controls the Guard.”
“Still…”
“Mel, how long before they move on Century?” Rawn asked. “They seized Ten Sisters, Scarecrow, Warner and Choir. Hell, the Harlequin Sector Governor just gave a good-sized fleet of 'outdated' warships to Drakkus; those guys are a lot worse than Vagyr.” He shook his head, “The Guard is too expansionist. They control almost everything and they want to control the rest.”
Mel shook her head, unable to argue with his words. She understood, she even agreed with him, but… “I just don’t think this is the right way.”
Rawn snorted, “Mel, this is war. You always look for the right way, but this time there isn’t one. You’ve already made your choice. You’ve picked your side. If you don’t like what we’re doing, that’s just too damned bad.”
Mel closed her eyes. She’d hoped she could have talked her brother around. She should have known he was too hard-headed for that. He was right about one thing, though: she’d picked her side. It wasn’t the side of the terrorists. It wasn’t the side of the Guard.
She just didn’t really know what side that left.
***
Mel yelped with surprise when she looked up to see Colonel Frost, staring down at her with his cold eyes. “Yes?”
He didn’t speak for a long moment. “What are their plans?”
Mel shrugged, “I don’t know.”
He didn’t break his stare, “What kind of equipment do they have?”
Mel shrugged again. Her mind moved frantically. “I’m not sure. Bob has that big pistol. The others have some weapons taken from your men. When I showed up, they had some explosives prepared.”
“Will they try to sabotage the ship again?”
Mel forced herself to meet his cold blue eyes, “I don’t know. They don’t have anyone with engineering expertise. They don’t have any powerful weapons.”
Colonel Frost�
�s eyes flitted to the antimatter core nearby, “Not any more, they don’t.” She saw a number of emotions flicker across his face, and his eyes locked on hers again. “They’ll want the core again.” She felt her heart stop. “
They might have followed you back here.” Frost nodded sharply, “Sergeant Nelson? Send out a team to sweep back down the corridor.”
Mel’s heart started again. She barely suppressed a sigh of relief. “You think they’d attack?”
Frost’s gaze returned to her. “I don’t know. Something is wrong, I can feel it. You’re telling me everything?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The terrorist leader turned away, “Rawn, get with Swaim. Apparently he’s not certain the ship’s sensors are still out. I need verification, one way or the other. And until then, no more discussion of our plans.”
“Yes, sir,” Rawn said. He jerked to his feet, clearly eager to follow his commander’s orders. Mel watched the two of them move away, then looked over at the cylinder.
Time to get to work.
***
Frost pulled Rawn aside just out of earshot of the others. “When I received the initial intelligence for this operation, I heard something interesting.”
“Yes?” Rawn asked.
“One of my agents heard a rumor about an expensive mercenary contract,” Frost said. He ran a hand across the stubble on his jaw. “A special mercenary, a woman. Name of Lace.”
Rawn frowned, “You think one of the others—”
“Maybe.” Frost said. “But your sister killed Gerin. Not easy to do. She would have had to take him by total surprise.”
“You think my sister…”
“Shut up and listen.” Frost sighed. “This mercenary… she swaps places with women. Takes on their identity, personality, everything. She's an infiltration specialist, I haven't personally crossed paths with her, but she's famous in certain circles.”
“You think someone switched places with my sister?” Rawn shook his head. “That sounds…”
“Absurd. I know. But someone paid her a lot of money. The rumor was that it was connected somehow to this ship. That’s why I nearly backed out of this operation,” Frost said.
And I wish I had. This damned ship is a pain in the ass and these rejects Guard Intelligence scraped up are far too tenacious, he thought darkly. This project had already consumed too much time and effort, but the potential of a warship like this under their control was still too good an opportunity to pass up.
Rawn stood silent for a long moment. Finally he spoke: “What do you want me to do?”
“Just… keep an eye on her. If anyone would notice her acting out of character, you would,” Frost said. “And probably, it’s the other woman. Even so…”
“I understand, sir.” The young man's voice was confident but also thoughtful.
“Good.” Frost nodded in the direction of the hacker, Jeremiah Swaim. “Get to work.”
***
Mel waited for her brother and the Colonel to reach the end of the corridor before she lifted a section of floor grating, moving as quickly as she could in the dim light cast by her helmet lamp. The terrorists had jammed the door at the opposite end; so far as they knew this corridor was a dead end now.
However, it ran directly over one of the main hydrogen fuel lines that fed the fusion reactors in the engine room. That piping ran down a crawlspace designed to allow access, the better to localize any leaks.
She leaned down, her fingers finding the edge of a hatch. Fenris must have been watching her, for the hatch opened at her touch. She smiled slightly.
She rose to a crouch. The bruises across her chest and back protested. Mel moved over to the cylinder and lifted it with a grunt of effort. She carried it to the service hatch. As she did so, Mel shot a nervous glance down the corridor.
One of the terrorists glanced her way, and she froze. He squinted briefly against the glare from her helmet lamp, and her heart seemed to stop. Could he see what she held? If he did, he’d raise the alarm.
After what seemed like an eternity, he looked away.
Mel lowered the cylinder as quickly as she dared, bending over with a grunt of pain. She felt the weight of the cylinder leave her. A pair of the spider repair bots grasped it, the two insectoid bots sweeping it out of sight.
An instant later, another pair appeared below her, bearing a similar cylinder. She frowned, though, as she noticed the lack of a keypad and display on the top. She bit her lip and hesitated, and then looked up again. None of the pirates glanced in her direction.
She grabbed the handle, swearing as she lifted the cylinder. Fenris had definitely guessed the weight wrong. Arms trembling, she barely lifted the cylinder with both hands. She finally levered it over the edge and dragged it, wincing at the noise. Finally, she got the heavy metal cylinder into position.
“…check the supplies,” one of the pirates said.
She started and turned quickly. She saw two of the terrorists enter the corridor. She rushed over to stand in front of the opened section of floor grate. She kept her helmet lamp on their faces. Her left heel probed for the section of grate.
“What’re you doing?” one of the men asked suspiciously.
“Just waiting. Not like I have much else to do,” Mel said sourly. She hoped they couldn’t see her face. If they did, they’d have noticed her look of panic. Finally her heel felt the loose grating panel and clumsily pushed back. There was a faint clank as it slid over the hole.
“Turn that damned light off, you’re blinding us,” one of the men said.
Mel shut off her lamp, turning her face away from the oncoming men. She looked down at her feet, and her blood froze. The section of grating had gone in slightly cocked, obvious to anyone who took a moment to look at it.
But both terrorists brushed past her, close enough that she could smell their sweat and body odor but neither so much as looking her way. Instead, they moved directly to the stacked rucksacks.
“What’d he want again?” one of them muttered
“Uh, I think…”
She tuned the two men out, looking anxiously at the crooked grate. Neither of them looked to be in a hurry, but she had to be. Only an hour remained before Fenris’ arbitrary time for the critical power levels. It had the power now, but activating the silent systems would give the terrorists far too many questions to ask.
She strode down the hallway. S stopped at the intersection and after a moment, she made out her target. The silent shadow stood, arms crossed and feet set, facing the bulkhead. She took a deep breath, “Colonel Frost?”
His voice sounded angry, “What?” He didn’t move at all.
She felt her face flush and her heart race. “I had an idea.”
“So did I,” Frost said cryptically.
“Uh…” Mel cleared her throat, “I was thinking about the radiation shielding going down.”
“Yes?” He seemed rather unconcerned about the idea of being cooked, but then again, he seemed inhumanly detached from what she had seen of him.
“Well, the ship has an auxiliary bridge and some living quarters – designed for an auxiliary crew, I think,” Mel said. She felt a sudden relief at the shadowed corridor. The absence of light would hide her flushed face. “It might have better protection from the radiation. I could check it out.”
“Talked to your brother?” Frost asked. She shivered at the icy threat in his voice.
“No, should I have?” she asked, honestly puzzled.
“You seem eager to leave us.” Frost turned to face her, his blue eyes glinting in the darkness.
“I’m more worried about cooking to death like a rat in a microwave,” she said, suddenly angry. “I’ll take a chance on this working out.”
“I studied the blueprints,” Frost turned his head away. “And I know the history. They built the ship in the Preserve, and the auxiliary bridge let a crew to Triad. That’s where the AI was built.” He snorted slightly, “The bridge is right down the corrido
r from the mainframe. The ship wouldn’t let us near it.”
“Okay, do you have a better—”
“Yes, I do have a better idea.” Frost snapped. “I’ve no intention of letting my men die.” He raised his voice, “Captain Roush!”
“Yes, sir?” Another shadow moved closer. Frost’s nosy second in command had lurked close enough to listen in, apparently; Mel felt her mouth go dry. What if he’d watched me switch out the core?
No, she knew that would be unlikely. They wouldn’t have let her get away with it. They would have stopped her and she’d already be dead.
“Captain Roush, detail a team to take our… guest and the remainder of our gear down to the hangar. We’re getting near the time limit,” Frost's voice was still detached.
“Yes, sir.” The terrorist sounded happy at that. Mel frowned, what was in the hangar?
Roush turned away, “Smith, get your lazy ass up! Get your team to grab our spare gear and get it down to the hangar. Take the girl with you.”
Mel listened to the unhappy grumbles in reply. They could not possibly be less happy than she was.
***
Mel followed the terrorist named Smith through several corridors, then down a narrow ladder. The others behind her grunted under their loads and murmured to each other, none of them speaking to her.
She preferred that; she didn't want to know them as people or to spend the mental energy on a conversation with them, she just wanted to escape.
The ship had two small hangar bays, she knew, which served to rearm its bomber and fighter drones. She frowned – were the terrorists planning to abandon ship?
She shivered at that thought. They’d emerge from Fenris’ warp bubble far from any inhabited system. Even if they had unlimited supplies, they’d still die of old age before they could reach a safe haven.
