Starhold (2 page)

Quinn spoke up. “Then I suggest we download all the data into a tachyon packet and send it to the nearest Sarissan Union system, which would be Hybrias. If we broad beam it, it could be picked up by anyone—the Gerrhans, or…” Quinn stopped as it hit her.

Genda realized it at the same time. “Damn! The distress signal! Whoever these people are, they know we’re here. We’ve been chirping that distress beacon for like, what? Three hours now?”

An alarm cried out and Quinn reacted quickly. “Gods, we’ve got two ships coming up on our six, and they’re coming fast! I’ve been so busy with that stupid scanner that I… Sorry, Skipper,” her voice trailed off.

Genda tried to soak in all that was happening. “Concentrate, Dandi, we need you sharp. How fast are they? Can we outrun them?”

“Not a chance. At the speed they’re coming, I estimate they’ll overtake us long before we make it to Jupiter. Maybe in about thirty-five minutes or so. I don’t recognize these silhouettes, and I’ve never seen ships travel this fast, not even with military grade engines.”

Misaki Genda tried to focus. These people needed their captain—a real captain, not an accountant.
I need to make a decision, to give an order, to do something. Don’t freeze up. Think dammit, think! What would a REAL captain do?

The mistress of the
Theodora
wheeled in her chair and began barking orders. “Jon, get on communications and hail those ships. Tell them who and what we are and that we’re in need of assistance. Dandi, you and Junko gather up all the data your scanners collected on Earth, on those ships, on everything. Prepare a TachPac for the military station at Hybrias.”

Kurogane sprinted to Quinn’s side and the pair began readying the information. They were going to throw their data toward the Hybrias system via a faster than light tachyon burst. When the signal arrived at Hybrias, it would be picked up on one of the dozens of corporate and military communications arrays which seeded the system, then redirected to the Sarissan military command post on the planet Rusalka.

Genda activated the shipwide address system. “This is Misaki to all crewmembers. We have a potential pirate situation—I repeat, we have a pirate situation. Two unidentified and possibly hostile ships are pursuing us and will overtake us in about thirty minutes. Lock down your stations and come to the bridge, on the double.”

Freighters, miners, and passenger ships all had to be aware of the possibility that not every vessel encountered in space would be friendly. Pirates were not a major problem, but they were not unheard of either. Most civilian craft had procedures in place for this type of situation. On the
Theodora
, the crew was to secure their areas of operations and then gather on the bridge, which would be used as a safe room. If boarded, the hope was that it would be more trouble than it was worth for the bad guys to break into the bridge, and that they would simply take anything of material value and leave the ship. That was the hope…

Minutes went by and one by one, the crew began to assemble. Hixon’s attempts to communicate with the unknown vessels had gone for naught. Trying to stay as composed as she could, Genda walked over to the helm to check with Quinn and Kurogane. Horace Adair had joined them.

“What are you doing here, Horace?” asked the captain.

“Mostly apologizing,” he said rather sheepishly. “And helping. We should have your data package ready to send off right about… now. Dandi—do it.” Quinn entered a command, which sent the data hurling through the void toward Sarissan Union space.

“Good. Now, wipe that data from the computers. If we’re boarded and the bridge is breached, I don’t want them knowing what we saw or did.”

The ship gave a small lurch and a murmur ran through the crew. Quinn and Adair studied their displays. “They’re firing on us!” Adair shouted.

“And they hit us,” Quinn confirmed. “Number Two ion thruster is down.”

Genda instinctively looked around for Big Paul to get the engineer’s assessment of the damage. “Where’s Big Paul? Come to think of it, where’s Little Paul?”

A figure spoke up from the corner of the bridge. “Last I saw, they were still in the engine room. Said they’d be here in a while,” Soames mumbled.

Genda seethed with sudden anger. “And, you just left them there?” she yelled. “What the hell, Soames!” The
Theodora
shook again, this time harder. Quinn reported another hit and that speed was dropping rapidly. In a few seconds, they would be drifting.

“Bridge to engineering. Bridge to engineering. Come in Big Paul. Little Paul, respond! Bridge to engineering!” The audio-link was silent as Genda wheeled on Soames. “Go back and get them, Soames!”

The huge man trembled. “Hey, you ordered us all to the bridge, I’m not their nursemaid. They told me they’d be here soon. Bet they’re on their way right now, that’s why they’re not answering the comm.” He added a little nervous chuckle as he realized all eyes were on him.

“I’ll do it, Misaki,” Adair said as he rose to go to the hatchway. Quinn reached out to grab at his arm, as if to restrain him and he smiled at her. “Keep us flyin’ till I get back, Red. You know Big Paul gets lost if he sets foot outside of engineering and his grandson’s not much better.” With a squeeze of her arm, he was off.

Anxious chatter filled the bridge, but no one was in a panic. Under the circumstances, Genda was proud of her crew. At least no one was freaking out. Not everyone was a coward, like Soames. She glanced contemptuously in his direction and saw him sitting in a corner of the bridge, eyes closed, rocking back and forth slightly. Genda felt a sudden pang of guilt.
No, he may be a weak person, but he’s not a coward. We all have weaknesses. Some people just control them better than others do.

The
Theodora’s
captain stepped to the helm. “Dandi, are we certain that message got off to Hybrias?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m certain.”

“And the computers have been wiped?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Genda looked around the bridge. She found herself hoping against hope that this situation somehow turned out all right. These people deserved a better fate. She tried to think back over the last several hours: did she make a wrong decision? Could she have done something different? Did she waste time playing cards when she could have been saving the ship?

Dandi Quinn was watching her screens intently and thinking aloud. “These ships are amazing. I’ve never seen maneuverability like this. Look at this! They just—”

The loud sound of metal on metal reverberated throughout the ship. It was the sound of a boarding pod being placed against the hull.

1: Frayed

Five standard months later

Planet Sarissa

Homeworld of the Sarissan Union

It was about to rain.

The sky was overcast as Frank Carr glanced out the window of his railcar. The
Phoenix Express
had just begun to pick up speed as it left Boutwell Terminal and he noticed the troubling dark clouds in the sky. He had been on this train what seemed like a million times before and memorized every detail he could see from this window. He knew every tree, every hill, every centimeter of the journey. Boutwell to Esterkeep. Distance: ninety-three kilometers. Speed: 370 kilometers per hour. Travel time: about fifteen minutes. Even in an age when riding high-speed rail was commonplace, S-RAIL was particularly proud of the
Phoenix Express
. It was one of only two direct lines between the largest city on the planet and the Sarissan capital.

For security purposes, the capital had been built as an isolated city. Lying north of the metropolis of Boutwell, Esterkeep had a population of around forty thousand and most of its residents were government workers. To enter the city, you had to have identification, travel permits, and pass through checkpoints. Transportation to and from the capital was tightly controlled. All trains routes were non-stop and each car of each train was run through security sweeps before and after every trip. Like her sisters, the
Phoenix Express
was part of the overall government strategy to keep the capital secure. ‘Phoenix’ was in reference to a mythical bird of ancient times, but Carr didn’t particularly like the name. He always envisioned a train named the
Phoenix Express
crashing and bursting into flames and he wasn’t sure he wanted to gamble on the resurrection part of the myth.

Oh well, it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. A gigantic fireball would be nice and clean, not agonizingly slow…

The thirty-four year old stared at his reflection in the railcar window. Frank Carr was a very fit, slender, handsome man. He kept his face clean-shaven, as well as his head—the smooth look suited him. He was well spoken, but could be somewhat laconic. Honestly, he came across to many people as a bit gloomy.

Born to a working class family in the Sarissan city of Stobart, Carr did well in school, won scholarships and graduated from the prestigious Absher-Grace Institute in 2556. Hired by the Lonsdale Information Group, a corporate partner of the Sarissan military, Carr was ‘noticed’ by the army and recruited as an OMI operative. In the early years, he was enthusiastic about intelligence work. The thrill of the missions and the lucrative payday had enriched his life, at least until recently.

Frank Carr had his looks, his wits, a comfortable residence in the city, an expensive wardrobe, a good reputation, and a certain brash charm. He also had one other thing—the rot he felt growing inside.

The train was about five minutes out of Boutwell when he felt something. It was as if his reflection in the window was warning him that something wasn’t right. He inventoried his surroundings. There weren’t many passengers for the trip to the capital, but there wouldn’t be this time of day. He sat in the very last row with his back to the wall. There were five other people in the car. One was an older woman, maybe in her mid-sixties, who was reading a bookpad and sat across the aisle from him, two rows up.

Four other men were in the carriage, ranging in age from late twenties to fifty. Two sat together five rows in front of him exchanging small talk he couldn’t quite hear. Another man sat on the opposite side of the car, about halfway to the front. That fellow stared out the window, watching the scenery roll by. The last man, probably the oldest of the four, was seated near the doorway at the front of the car. He, like the woman, was reading a bookpad. The guy seemed to have a familiar face, one that Carr couldn’t quite place. Maybe he’d seen him on the commute before. It all looked fine, but it didn’t feel that way.

Another few minutes rolled by and Carr thought of moving to another car. It would be easy to do since he was next to the back doorway. Perhaps he was imagining danger. The last year had taken its toll on him and maybe he wasn’t as sharp as he used to be.

No maybes about it, I’m not.

Personal problems were distracting him, eroding his professional skills. He had botched his last assignment and it was increasingly difficult to get a good night’s sleep. He wanted to quit, but he desperately needed the money. No private sector job would pay as much as the OMI—maybe someday, but not now.

The oldest man got to his feet and walked the length of the railcar, sitting down on the seat across the aisle from Carr. He wished the elderly woman was not in the car, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Hopefully she wouldn’t become collateral damage when whatever was about to happen transpired. Now, the woman got to her feet and started gathering her things: bookpad, bag, and coat. Good—she was leaving and would be out of the way. She started down the aisle toward the door next to him and he saw an opportunity.

“Allow me to help you with the door, madam,” Carr said as he stood, smiling in his best Good Samaritan form. He was going to open the door for the woman and then follow her through it to the next compartment, and a less compromising position.

The corners of her lips rose. “Well, such a nice gentleman. Thank you so much, but that won’t be necessary. I’m not leaving.”

“You’re not?” There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“No, Mr. Carr, I’m not. I’d actually like to have a word or two with you. Shall we sit down?”

As they sat, Carr examined his newfound companion more closely. Her gray hair flowed into a beehive bun at the back. Thick jowled and on the heavy side, her eyes were now focused and determined. Her smile was still there, but it seemed less friendly and more predatory. She had switched from ‘little old lady’ mode to all business.

Carr shifted in his seat, but was careful not to make any sudden moves. With her four friends, clearly the woman had enough muscle on her side to do this the hard way. “You seem to have the advantage of me. Have we met before?”

“No, Mr. Carr, we have not. I’m new to Sarissa, recently arrived from Arethusa. My name is Mumphrey, Inspector Mumphrey.”

“Ah. Well, Inspector, excuse me—I must be slipping. I had your friends pegged, but you just don’t fit the profile of someone in the SSB.” The man seated across the aisle gave a short, chopped laugh.

“Really? You think that’s the case. Well, my dear boy, I’ll take that as a compliment.” She clasped her hands together and surveyed him for a moment. “You have a fine record and quite a reputation. When I heard that you’d been summoned to the capital, I just had to meet you. You must have been called in for something very important. Could it be this dreadful business about the attack on that Gerrhan base? You wouldn’t care to share would you, Mr. Carr?”

The State Security Bureau was the civilian government intelligence agency, under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Home Affairs. Carr worked for the OMI—the Office of Military Intelligence. The civilian and military portions of the government had a somewhat unhealthy rivalry. Sometimes each seemed to forget that they were both working for the same side. It wasn’t unusual for SSB inspectors to hassle OMI operatives from time to time, usually shadowing them or eavesdropping on communications. A personal introduction though? This was audacious even by SSB standards.

“The reality is, I don’t know yet myself, Inspector.”

Mumphrey eyed him for a moment and must have decided he was telling the truth. “Mr. Carr, we have a limited amount of time, so I will be direct. In my line of work, I tend to pry into other people’s personal business quite a lot. It’s my job, you understand.” Pausing for a response from Carr, who remained quiet, she continued. “I’ve noticed that your finances are, let’s be honest, in horrible shape. And, I also know that recently your enthusiasm for your work has diminished considerably.”

“And so?”

“And so, the Home Ministry would be willing to make a generous contribution to, let’s call it your ‘medical fund,’ if you would just pass on the occasional tidbit of information to us, such as the nature of your assignments and some information from your briefings. I mean, after all my boy, we both work for the same government. Technically, it’s not like you would be doing anything that would be hurting the national interest.”

Carr grinned as he responded. “Well, Inspector, you are right that my, what was it you called it, my enthusiasm for my work is not what it used to be,” he said in a measured voice. “But that doesn’t mean I have any greater love for the SSB, or anyone else in the government for that matter.”

He moved his head to glance out the window and saw the train was pulling into the Esterkeep station. Turning back to her, he reached for a sarcastic tone. “I see we’re pulling into the terminal now. I’m sure you and all of your men probably have somewhere else to be—busting up a gambling ring, or whatever plainclothes cops do. I assure you, when I do find out why I’ve been called to town, you’ll be the very last to know, Inspector Mumphrey.”

Mumphrey scowled. “Somehow I doubt that. Remember, we’ll be watching you. Your people are forever trying to cut us out of the loop. Something big is in the air, Mr. Carr, and we won’t just sit back and be spectators, not on my watch. Good day to you.”

Carr’s grin broadened, which further rubbed Mumphrey the wrong way. As she rose to depart, she leaned over and spoke to him in a smug voice. “Oh, and by the way Mr. Carr, as you yourself observed you
are
slipping. You see, I only have one man with me.”

The satisfaction migrated from Carr’s face to Mumphrey’s as she turned to leave the carriage. “Come, Bretz!” she called, as the man across the aisle followed, smirking at Carr.

Just as the train came to a halt in the Esterkeep Terminal, the first of the rain fell to the ground.

* * * *

Carr walked up the steps and through the front door of the handsome five-story structure at 437 Uhlen Street. Unlike many government buildings, Yancey House had no signs to identify it, no government flags, and no indications of any kind what the building contained. The stone masonry facade was beautiful and unique for a city dominated by more modern construction. To the casual passerby, this could be a private business, or perhaps an apartment building. It certainly didn’t seem like the supremely secure government facility it actually was.

He knew he was late and as he spied the lobby clock, he realized he was very late. Entering the lift and ascending one floor, he walked quickly down the hall, as if hastening his pace could make up thirty minutes. At least the security officer watching the hall monitor would get a chuckle. It seemed like he was giving lots of people amusement today.

Turning left halfway down the hall into an unmarked office, he found himself confronted by a very unhappy face. “James, hello and sorry I’m late,” was met with a stone face and one raised eyebrow.

“He’s expecting you,” the man said, then added, “thirty-three minutes ago.”

James tapped a code into the console at his workstation and the door to the inner office slid open. Jason Tolbert was seated at his desk conversing with a young lady. Waving Carr to a vacant chair, the director of the Office of Military Intelligence made no comment regarding the need for punctuality, as it would have been a wasted effort.

“Sorry I’m late,” Carr said as he sat down. “Had some trouble on the train.”

“Let me guess—SSB?”

“Yes, and particularly obnoxious to boot. They tried to bribe me into slipping them team secrets. What’s going on?”

Tolbert let his right hand absent-mindedly stroke his gray Van Dyke. “It seems the Home Minister’s called in some new personnel from off-world. They’re playing a little rough. Our new SSB colleagues don’t understand how the game is played between us here on the homeworld. I’ll have a word with Minister Siebert about it.

“Captain Frank Carr, allow me to introduce space force Lieutenant Commander Etta Sanchez.”

The OMI was a combined intelligence effort of the Sarissan Union Army and the SUSF. While with the agency, operatives were under the command of the agency itself and were in effect on detached service from the military. Each operative served Jason Tolbert and his staff until they were released back to their own branch of the armed forces, if they ever were.

Carr judged Etta Sanchez to be around thirty. He pegged her to be a native of Quijano, as she had the olive skin, dark eyes, and black hair so common to people of that world. Her pageboy haircut complimented an attractive oval face. A fine looking woman, but he wondered why she was here.

The Director led the two operatives from his desk to the briefing table at the other end of his office, where he activated a holographic projector and handed each of them a data tablet. “Frank, the Lieutenant Commander is a first rate pilot and you’ll need her skills on this mission.”

“Director,” Carr began defensively. “I always work alone, you know that. Besides, I can pilot a shuttle, so I don’t really need a taxi driver.” Carr glanced toward the woman. “No offense, um, what was your name again, Lieutenant?”

“Lieutenant
Commander
Sanchez. Etta Sanchez.”

“Really, no offense. Wait. Sanchez? You wouldn’t happen to be related to Admiral Sanchez would you?”

“There are a lot of people named Sanchez in the Union, Mr. Carr.”

“That’s very true, Commander, but they’re not all related to the Admiral—are you?”

“It has nothing to do with my qualifications as a pilot or operative, but yes, the Admiral is my uncle.”

Tolbert wanted to stop where this was going. “Frank, I can personally vouch for the Commander’s qualifications for this mission. And the vehicle you’ll be using will demand her particular skill set.”

Carr bit his tongue for a moment. He disliked this whole arrangement before he even knew what it was about. However, he did respect Jason Tolbert.

“All right, Director,” Carr conceded grudgingly. “So where are we going in this craft that only Ms. Sanchez can fly?”