Alarm of War, Book II: The Other Side of Fear (18 page)

Chapter 15

On Board the Dominion Ship Tartarus

For the next three days, they were left alone.  Cookie gave Wisnioswski her bunk and slept on the floor.  She had removed the two bloody hands they had hung around his neck and stuffed them through the food slot to the corridor outside.  She half expected Schroder’s thugs to push the hands back into her cell, but they didn’t.  Maybe they were embarrassed.  Maybe they didn’t care.  Maybe the mutilation had sated them for the moment.

Wisnioswski alternated between fits of weeping and just lying there, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.  Sometimes when he cried, Cookie would hold his head against her breast and rock him back and forth, humming lullabies recalled from her childhood or just saying “sshhhh, sshhhh” over and over again until he fell back into a fitful sleep.  Wisnioswski could no longer feed himself, so she fed him, spoonful by spoonful, and held a water cup up to his lips so he could drink.  On the second day she shaved him with a safety razor, whisking bar soap from the sink into froth in the palm of her hand and smearing it onto his beard.  She made a mess of it, nicking him several times, but he did not seem to notice.

On the third day, Wisnioswski seem to come back into himself a bit.  Cookie turned to see him staring at her.

“Well, hello, Wisnioswski,” she said with as much cheer as she could muster.  “You decided to come back to the land of the living?”

Wisnioswski lowered his eyes.  “I’m sorry, Sergeant,” he whispered through dry lips.  Cookie held a cup of water up to his mouth. 

“Once we get out of here,” she told him, “the docs will grow you a new set of hands in no time.”

“We’re not getting out of here,” he whispered hoarsely.  “You know that.”

She started to reply, but stopped.  He was right; she felt it in her soul.  No matter what else happened in the war, she and Wisnioswski were lost.  Lost forever.  They had killed the Dominion’s top admiral; there was no way they were ever going to see home again.

The next day Karl came for her.  The cell door opened and he walked in followed by two of Schroder’s thugs.  Cookie stood, placing herself between Karl and Wisnioswski.  Karl ignored her, speaking directly to the private.

“Private, I am going to examine your arms for signs of infection.  Then I am going to take Cookie out of the cell for a few hours.  If you try anything, if you resist me in any way, we will cut off your feet.  Do you understand?”  Without waiting for a reply, Karl turned to Cookie.  His voice was harsh.

“I am going to take you to my quarters and fuck you.  If you resist in any way, I will cut off the private’s feet.  Do you understand?”

Cookie had known this was coming, had expected it, but as she saw the expression of confusion and anger on Wisnioswski’s face, she couldn’t help feeling dirty, indelibly soiled.  She nodded, looking at the floor.

Wisnioswski looked on with growing horror.  “Sergeant, no!  You don’t have to do-“

“It’s okay, Otto,” she said, still not looking at him.  “I’ll be okay.”
Gods of Our Mothers, help me to appear weak and submissive so that I can keep us both alive just a little bit longer, this your daughter asks of you.

Wisnioswski, speechless, just stared at her as Karl took her elbow and led her out.

Karl took her to his quarters.  For a moment he just stood there, staring at her.  She wondered fleetingly if he was going to hand her over to Schroder then and there and promised herself that if he tried, she would make sure he died first.

“I should have killed you for what you did,” Karl said coldly.  “You’re lucky that I have genuine feelings for you.”  He stopped, waiting.

“I’m sorry, Karl,” she said, keeping her eyes downcast.  “I’m very sorry.”

“You’re going to have to make it up to me,” he told her.

“I will,” she promised.  “I’ll do anything I can, anything you want.”

He ordered her to make supper and she worked in his tiny kitchen for the next hour.  When he was through with his food he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his bedroom and made love to her roughly, his anger sustaining his lust long into the evening.  Several times he slapped her and once he put his hands around her throat.  Each time, she did nothing.  He wanted to dominate her, not kill her, and if she had to play along with that to get what she wanted, she would. 

Besides, the moment he crossed the line and actually tried to kill her, she would fucking destroy him.

Finally, the moment came she had been waiting for.  Spent and sated, Karl told her to clean up the dishes and pick up the rooms, then get out.  Gratefully, she got dressed and left him drowsing while she went to the kitchen.  As she was putting away the silverware, she paused, listening to his deep breathing from the next room.  Satisfied, she considered her options.  She was only allowed plastic silverware in her cell, but Karl had cutlery made of metal.  She knew he counted the knives whenever she cooked for him, because he ordered her to place all of the washed knives in a row on the counter.

But the forks…

When she returned to her cell she found Wisnioswski staring at a plate of food they had left on the floor.  Without his hands, he could not eat it.  Shaking her head, she knelt down and fed him, using the plastic spoon they always provided.

Wisnioswski wouldn’t look at her.  She was disheveled, her face was bloody and she stank of cum; it didn’t take a genius to figure out what Karl had done to her.

She knew what he was thinking.

“It isn’t your fault, Otto,” she told him softly, feeding his some of the gruel.

Wisnioswski shook his head.  “I should have done something!” he said, half sobbing.  “I should have-“

“Don’t bury me in Polish bullshit, Private,” she said, not unkindly.  “You couldn’t stop them from hurting me any more than I could stop them from mutilating you.  You know it and I know it.  We’re alive.  It sure ain’t pretty, but we’re alive.”

“Sergeant?  I don’t think I want to be alive,” he whispered, his voice hollow.  He held up his arms to show the two raw stumps where his hands had been.  “I don’t think I can stand this.”  He shook his head violently.  “And I don’t want you to have to…to
submit
to them in order to protect me.  I’d rather be dead.”

Cookie leaned closer and wrapped her arms around him.  It was just the two of them, surrounded by the enemy far, far from home.  Their fate was sealed; all that was left was pain and humiliation at the hands of their captors.  Cookie shuddered and wondered what would happen if Schroder and his thugs cut off her hands as well.  Would they leave her and Wisnioswski to starve to death, unable to feed themselves?

In that moment, without conscious volition, Cookie crossed the line from trying to stay alive at all costs to dying on her own terms. 

“You know what, Otto?” she whispered into his ear.  “I think you and I should kick some ass and teach these fuckers not to mess with Fleet Marines.  What do you say?”

Wisnioswski smiled a terrible death’s head grin, his eyes sunken and black.  “Let’s feed the Beast, Sergeant,” he said, but then his smile wavered and he struggled to control his emotions. 

Cookie thought her heart would break.  “Remember, Otto, always together.” 
To the very end.
  She kissed the top of his head and helped him back into bed.  When he was asleep, she dimmed the lights and undressed in the corner.  She splashed water on her face from the sink, then held out her arms in supplication and raised her head to the heavens.

Gods of Our Mothers,
she prayed silently.
Your daughter thanks you for your many blessings and for delivering me to this season.  I ask you to give me strength and fortitude for that which lies ahead. 
She turned to look at the form sleeping in her bed. 
And when the time comes, please make his death as quick and painless as you can, for he has already suffered too much.

Then she rolled her clothes into a ball to use for a pillow and lay on the floor.  One hand stole under the pillow and felt the fork she had taken from Karl’s kitchen. 

Just the one fork.  She ran her finger over the sharp prongs.

A girl could do a lot with a fork.

Chapter 16

On Canaan, Home World of The Light

Brother Jong bowed deeply.  Sweat trickled down his back and moistened the palms of his hands.  He had prayed that morning to prepare for this meeting, but apparently not enough.

“Welcome, Brother Jong,” Abbot Cornelia said formally.  To her left and right sat the eight members of the ruling Council of The Light.  Eight abbots from whose decisions on matters of policy and strategy there was no appeal, no higher authority.  Abbot Cornelia was the recognized leader, but as a first among equals rather than as an undisputed ruler.  She was allowed to break any tie, a prerogative she used sparingly.

Jong knew that the Council was split almost evenly between the “Books” and the “Swords.”  The Books believed that The Light should retreat from all politics with the other human sectors and devote themselves to the worship of God and the exploration and study of His Universe.  The Swords looked outward, believing that God had not created The Light to allow His worshipers to die for lack of self-defense.  More importantly, the hard liners of the Swords felt it was their duty to seek out those who would pose an existential threat to The Light and render them harmless.  Or destroy them utterly, if the opportunity arose.  Both sides respected the religious piety of the other, and secretly thought they were fools.

“Abbot Cornelia, I thank you and the members of the Council for seeing me on such short notice.” 

“You have a request?”  She knew what it was, of course, they had discussed it through the night.

Jong straightened.  “Members of the Council, I seek permission to reveal the Secret to the government in exile for Victoria, so that they might invade the Dominion of Unified Citizenry.”

None of the eight Council members so much as raised an eyebrow.  Cornelia nodded somberly.  “Brother Jong, the Secret has been at the heart of The Light for six hundred years.  Why should we disclose it now?”

And so it began.

Chapter 17

On the H.M.S.
Laughing Owl
in Dominion Space

“Tallyho!  Our friend is getting some company,” the Sensors Officer cried.  “I count four destroyers coming out of the asteroid field, plus something that might be a small cruiser.  They are taking up station around the
Tartarus.
”

“Bring us to a stop, Pilot,” Captain Sadia Zahiri ordered, “slow and easy.  All systems set to maximum stealth.  Fatima, bring up the passive scanners on the battle holo.  Ben-Ami, ready the drones.”  She thought for a moment, then commed the Chief Engineer as well.  “Mr. Dorfman, things might get hot here in a few moments.  Please be ready to go to maximum acceleration on my order.  Make sure the inertial compensators are on-line.”  She also triggered a chime that warned the entire crew to be prepared for high gravity acceleration on ten seconds notice.  Even with the inertial compensators, if you weren’t on an acceleration couch when the ship went to two hundred and fifty gravities, life would be intensely unpleasant.

She turned back to the Sensors Officer.  “Fatima, no S-band targeting sensors? No T-band search sensors? That seems odd.”

Fatima Binissa shrugged.  “Could be a lot of things, Captain.  If you assume they want to keep whatever they’ve got here secret, they might rely on visual sightings. When you blast an area with T-band, the sensor signature goes out a long, long way.  A ship, like us for example, sitting outside the detection envelope, would pick up the T-band signal and know that there was somebody out there, even though the Dominions wouldn’t pick us up on their sensors.  Or they could use stealthy reconnaissance drones just like we do.  The drones detect someone coming in and use a whisker laser to communicate back to the main base.  It’s a bit slower than T-band, but very effective if what you want to do is keep your position secret.”

Zahiri nodded, eyes still on the holo display.  The
Laughing Owl
was forty thousand miles behind the
Tartarus
and above its plane of advance.  The image she was getting was sent to her by whisker laser from a ‘tag-along’ reconnaissance drone that was on station three thousand miles above the
Tartarus. 
It matched speed with the prison ship and maintained its relative position.

“Got some radio chatter, Captain,” Binissa announced. 

“Put it up,” Zahiri ordered.

“-
yourself.  Repeat, unidentified ship, identify yourself or you will be fired upon.”

“This is DID 3941-545, State Prison Vessel Tartarus, on routine loop to vicinity of Destination Code Alpha 3-100-X.  A copy of our orders is attached to this transmission. We will be here for approximately four weeks while crew R&Rs at Siegestor; afterwards we will depart for Timor. ”

“Tartarus, be advised that you may not enter the asteroid field or go any closer than five hundred miles to Buoy Number 44.  Any closer and you will be fired upon without further warning.  Acknowledge.”

“My, my, aren’t we the friendly ones?” murmured Zahiri.

“Understood, Control, we’ve been here before.  We will be sending crew to Siegestor by shuttle craft, but no more than eight at a time.”

“Acknowledged, Tartarus, but we will send our own shuttles to pick up your crew, no more than eight at a time. Repeat, you may not use your own shuttles and any shuttle leaving your ship without permission will be destroyed.  All crew arriving on the station must immediately register with security.  Anyone found without a proper visitor’s pass will be arrested.  Welcome to Alpha 3-100-X.”

“I must say,” Fatima Binissa snickered, “the Darwin Tourist Board could learn a thing or two from these guys. Warm and friendly, with just a little touch of totalitarian police state hugs and kisses to make you feel at home.”

After a while, the destroyers and cruiser turned away from the
Tartarus
and picked their way into the asteroid belt, all the while followed unknowingly by two drones piloted by Ben-Ami Behrman, the
Laughing Owl’s
Drone Chief and his assistant, a petite, bookish woman named Dafna Simon.  The Dominion warships led them on a circuitous route, first deep into the asteroid belt, then in a long curving arc that brought them back near the outer edge of the belt, but a thousand miles away from Buoy Number 44 and the
Tartarus.

And there, just five miles inside the asteroid field, was the largest space station Captain Zahiri had ever seen.  This, presumably, was the mysterious Siegestor.  She was dumbfounded by its size. She studied the videos carefully.  It was obviously a shipyard, but it was immense!  The implications of the fact that it was so large and so absolutely secret left her shaken.  It must have taken
years
for the Ducks to build this, but she had never heard one whisper about it.  And while she did not pretend to know much about shipyards, this one was larger than Atlas, which could not bode well for Victoria in a war of attrition.

No matter what happened, she had to get word back to the Fleet.

Then her stomach growled and her mind flitted to their rapidly diminishing food stores.  Yet another reason why they had to get back to the Fleet soon.  She had three weeks of food left, already rationed.  She would have to cut the rations even more, down to 800 calories per day, but at that level people would be tired and irritable all the time.  Life on a reconnaissance ship was not easy.  Small crews meant long shifts and no time off for weeks on end.  Food was one of the few pleasures.  Their hunger would be a torment and would distract them from even simple tasks.  They would make mistakes. 

She sighed.  To make it back to Refuge space at top speed would require most of two weeks, and she had to assume they would lose time at wormholes waiting to make safe transit. 

She could allow only two or three days to collect data on this damn shipyard the Dominions had so painstakingly hidden, then she would have to run for Refuge and make her report.  She’d send courier drones of course, but this was too important to risk either interception or the loss of the drone before it reached the Fleet.

“Bennie, let’s get two more recon drones on her and take pictures of everything.”

“We’ll have to get in close or the asteroids near the space station will block the sensors,” he reminded her.

Captain Zahiri considered this.  They needed to get in close, but if one of the drones was spotted the entire advantage of surprise would be lost.  “Don’t get closer than twenty miles and keep the drones snug up against some of the asteroids.  But get all of the passive sensors going and soak up everything you can.”

“And if one of the drones is spotted?”  Behrman asked.

“”If they think they see something, they’ll send a ship to investigate.  If you see someone coming, find a crevice or a cave in the nearest asteroid and drive the drone right into it, then shut it down cold,” Zahiri answered.  And if that happened, of course, then the
Laughing Owl
would run for it, stealthily if they could, damn fast if they couldn’t.

Her crew set about their tasks, leaving Captain Zahiri, for the moment, with nothing to do.  Her attention was drawn again to the sensor input from the drone they had stalking the Siegestor space station.  She shook her head ruefully; she had always thought of the Dominions as unimaginative and dull, but this…this was breathtaking.  This wasn’t a simple brute force military action; this was an achievement
years
in the planning and more years in the construction.  And somehow they kept it all secret.  Incredible.  If the reports coming in about the destruction of the Second Fleet were true, this shipyard probably built the fleet that did it.  Then an uneasy thought intruded into her consciousness.

If the Dominions could do this, what else might they have done?