Solfleet: The Call of Duty (80 page)

Dylan
shrugged his shoulders. “Had you asked me that a week ago I would’ve said no. Now
I’m not so sure.”

“Of course
you can’t.”

“So where
did this Portal come from?” Dylan asked, still feeling a little doubtful.

“The ancient
Tor’Rosha built it.”

The Tor’Rosha?
That name, that one small bit of information, caught Dylan off guard and
completely changed his perspective, casting Benny’s ‘Portal’ story into an
entirely new light and leaving him momentarily speechless. As far-fetched as
such a device might have sounded, it was a fact that the long-extinct Tor’Rosha
were known best for their ancient yet incredibly advanced technologies.
Suddenly, despite his better judgment, he believed.

“You mean this
thing really exists?” he finally asked.

“Of course
it exists!” Benny exclaimed. “Vhat? Did you think I vas making the whole thing
up? The Tor’Rosha built dozens of them, all over vhat...
what
...is now Coalition
space. And those are just the ones we know about. Who knows how many more of
them might exist further out? Each one is a doorway onto one specific planet.”

“And each
one displays the history of its target world?”

“Exactly.”

“That’s
pretty incredible, Benny. How can they do that?”

“You got me.
I just know what I saw it do.”

“Do the Tor’Kana
know about the Portals?”

“They must,
almost certainly. But they don’t know about this one in particular, as far as
we know. We have certainly never told them about it. We’ve been sitting on it
quietly ever since we found it.”

“Why? The
Tor’Kana probably could have helped our scientists figure it out a lot faster.”

“Yes, they
probably could have.”

“Then why...”

“For
planetary security. Think about it, Dylan. If we had reported the discovery of
a Portal aimed at Earth to the Tor’Kana, chances are the Veshtonn who now
occupy their home world would have learned of it. And what do you think they’d
do with that knowledge?”

Dylan
considered that for a moment, then answered, “I don’t know, but I’m sure it
wouldn’t be anything good.”

“I’ll tell
you what they would do. They would pounce on that Portal so fast we wouldn’t
know where they came from, and they would send a whole legion of varriors into
our past to vipe us off the face of the Earth! That’s vhat they’d do!”

“Of course,”
Dylan said, feeling a little stupid. The answer
had
been pretty obvious.
“I hadn’t thought of that. I even brought up a similar argument myself during
my mission briefing, though in a different context.” He took another sip of his
vodka and shook his head. “All this time-travel stuff. I think I’m getting a
headache.”

“It’s the
wod...
vod
ka. Take another swig. It’ll probably go away again.”

“No, it’s
not that, Benny. It’s just... I’m thinking about my mission. I’ve read theories
about all this time-travel stuff, but the reality of it is brand new to me. I’ve
served as a Military Police Security Forces troop, a criminal investigator, and
a Marine Corps Ranger. The planets I’ve visited weren’t strange new unexplored
worlds with bizarre alien technologies. Hell, I’ve never even been aboard an
Explorer
class starcruiser before, let alone been out there beyond the fringes of
the frontier where all you first-contact explorers have your adventures. Well,
with the exception of Tamour, that is.”

“Do I detect
a bit of dissatisfaction in your voice?”

Dylan drew a
deep breath and sighed. “Sorry, Benny. It’s just that...well, sometimes we make
decisions in life, then years later realize that some of those decisions were
the wrong ones all along.”

“Like growing
up and marrying the wrong woman and wishing for years afterward that you’d
never broken up with that one special girlfriend you had in high school?”

Dylan’s eyes
narrowed. “How did you know...”

“Never mind.
Let’s just say that Commander Royer checked you out very thoroughly, and that
my briefing was just as thorough.”

“Damn,
Benny, did she tell you the girl’s name, too?” Dylan asked sarcastically.

“Actually,
yes. Diane Hawkins, I believe it was?”

Dylan was speechless.
He couldn’t believe Royer had actually given his high school sweetheart’s name
to the old captain, or that she’d even bothered to find out what it was herself.
After all, why was that of any importance? What did it mean to her? What did it
have to do with anything at all, for that matter?

When he did finally
respond to Benny, he confirmed her name with a simple, “Yeah,” and then said, “Anyway,
I was referring to this mission. Maybe I should have stuck to my guns and
refused it.”

“Refused an
order from an admiral?”

“He didn’t
order me at first. He gave me a choice and I declined. It wasn’t until later
that he ordered me to go.” He sipped his vodka, then shook his head slightly
and added, “Maybe I should have just stayed in the Corps. In fact, if I could
live my life over again I think I’d go to the Solfleet Academy and request assignment
to an
Explorer
class starcruiser.”

“But you
can’t
live your life over again,” Benny pointed out. “However, if you complete
your mission, perhaps things will be different for you when you come back.”

Dylan
grinned. “I hadn’t thought of that, either,” he said. “Well, actually I have
thought about it, but not in a positive way. But you may be right, Benny. Maybe
things will be different. Who knows? Maybe I’ll end up serving on an
Explorer
class after all.”

“Maybe.”

Dylan’s grin
faded as quickly as it had appeared.

“What’s the
matter now?” Benny asked.

“Beth. My
fiancée. What if...”

“Every
theory of time traveling I’ve ever studied says that you should retain a
complete memory of your entire life before, during, and after your trip into
the past,” Benny explained. “If she’s not your fiancée when you return then you
can pursue her all over again. Or, if you prefer, you can look for Diane.”

Dylan
considered that, but only for a moment. He still wasn’t sure that any of it
made sense, but one thing he did know. Diane had married and started a family
of her own years ago and he wouldn’t take that away from her, even if he had
the chance. Nor would he rob her or her husband of the opportunity to have that
with each other again, should he successfully complete his mission and return
to an altered world. Besides, he loved Beth and he wanted to marry her. Diane
would always hold a special place in his heart, but their time together was passed,
a happy and painful memory. Happy, because theirs had truly been a loving,
caring relationship. Painful, because it had ended so abruptly, thanks to the
enemy—and to his own stupidity, he reminded himself. He’d joined the fleet of
his own free will after all, despite her having given him every reason in the
world to stay with her instead.

“What about
you, Benny?” he asked, changing the subject.

“What about
me?”

“Have you
thought any about how my mission might affect you, should I succeed?”

Benny sat up
and turned the pilot’s chair back toward the controls console and started
making minor, possibly even unnecessary adjustments to the skiff’s systems,
then answered, “To be honest, I prefer not to think about it. Whatever is going
to happen is going to happen and there’s not a thing I can do about it.
Besides, there’s a whole lot more at stake here than my remaining years. Now
why don’t you go back and get some rest. Like you said, you’ve been up a good
twenty-one hours already, and it’s a long trip.”

“Yeah, okay.
I am pretty tired.” Dylan got up and started toward the back, wondering what
tender chord he’d inadvertently struck. Then he turned to ask one more simple question.
“Hey, Benny?”

“
Da
?”

“What’s this
Portal planet of yours called, anyway?”

“Its code
name is ‘Window World’, but your Admiral Hansen assures me that it’s still
classified, so you can’t ever tell anyone about it when you get back.”

Dylan
chuckled. “No problem there,” he agreed with a shake of his head. “Everyone I
know would think I was crazy if I told stories like the one you’ve been telling
me.” He turned his back and headed aft. “Good night, Benny.”

“Good night.”

The Next Morning

Wednesday, 8 December 2190

Professor
Min’para had told Miss DeGaetano and her fiancé the Solfleet lieutenant that he
enjoyed a good mystery, but he’d had no idea then, he’d since come to realize,
what he was getting himself into. He’d been at it for more than four rotations
of their world below. What did the Terrans call them? Was it days? Yes, days.
He’d been digging through the records for more than four Earth days. More than
ninety-six of their hours, and he was finally beginning to feel exhaustion
overtaking him.

Not to
mention a certain amount of apprehension, as his suspicions grew ever stronger.

After a long
and exhaustive search, the necessity of which alone was enough to add a measure
of credence to those suspicions, he finally found and called up the decades-old
issue of “Technological Sciences” online magazine he’d previously flagged for
quick recall. He scanned forward to the article on advances in cybernetic and
biotronic technologies, then switched his handcomp back on and called up the
copy of that same article that he’d downloaded from the magazine to the device
four nights earlier, right after the session with the lieutenant. He sat back
in his chair to carefully reread and compare the two versions, but he’d barely
gotten comfortable before his suspicions were finally and positively confirmed.
The two versions no longer matched one another. The online original had been modified
since the first time he read it. Someone was altering the records.

They were
onto him.

But who were
‘they?’ He suspected that the S.I.A. leadership, specifically Vice-Admiral
Hansen and Commander Royer, were involved in one way or another, though he hadn’t
figured out exactly how yet. But if
not
them, then who? Someone who
could hurt him, to be sure.

So why was
he even getting involved? He had no stake in it. He was Cirran, not Terran. He
was a master mentalist—a university professor. What did corrupt Terran government
officials and high-level military conspiracies and cover-ups within their
Solfleet have to do with him? Absolutely nothing. Besides, Lieutenant Graves
had left the station more than thirty Earth-hours ago and Miss DeGaetano had
gone not long after.

Why was he
getting involved? Because he’d given Miss DeGaetano his word and he could not
go back on that. That was why, and that was all there was to it. Period.

With any and
all second thoughts permanently brushed aside he refocused on the task at hand.
Whoever ‘they’ were, they were obviously trying to mislead him, probably to
protect some hidden truth that reached far beyond what they’d done to the
lieutenant. But what truth? What were they hiding? He had a couple of working theories,
but so far those theories were still based almost entirely on his probe of the
lieutenant’s mind. He hadn’t yet uncovered any real proof of anything, one way
or the other.

Yes, Admiral
Hansen and Commander Royer were clearly involved somehow. They had to be. In
fact, they were probably right in the middle of everything. They ran the agency
after all. This kind of thing couldn’t possibly go on right under their noses
without their knowledge. But were they acting alone? That was another question entirely,
and the answer was...probably not. In fact, they couldn’t possibly have been
acting alone. To do what he now strongly suspected they’d done, they would have
needed the help of a variety of scientists and specialists.

He was
tired. He was having trouble thinking straight—trouble concentrating.

So who was
working with them? Who were their co-conspirators and how far did the
conspiracy reach? And most importantly of all, if and when he did find
sufficient, significant evidence against them, to whom could he safely voice
his suspicions?

What in the
gods’ and goddesses’ names was he thinking? Voice his suspicions? Solving a
mystery from the outside was one thing—he’d given his word, he reminded himself
again—but getting personally involved in it was another thing entirely. The
more he dug the deeper he went, and he was in way over his head already. Voice
his suspicions? Absolutely not. What he needed to do was get off the station
and go home. Now. Besides, now that he knew someone was altering the records,
there wasn’t any point in continuing his research. Not only could he not count on
any additional information he might find to be authentic, he couldn’t even be sure
of the accuracy of what he already had anymore.

Still.
Corrupt government officials, high-level conspiracies and military cover-ups...
All the makings of an intriguing mystery novel were there, and he did so enjoy
a good mystery. He wanted to solve this one, if only for himself.

He
downloaded the altered version of the article—not the most conclusive evidence
by itself, but still not a bad place to start—giving it a different file name
so it wouldn’t overwrite the four day old copy, then reached out to shut down
the terminal. But it occurred to him before he did so that whoever was altering
the records might also be monitoring his use of the computer. That being the
case, his wisest course of action would be to hide the fact that he knew he was
being misled. So, rather than shutting down, he called up the next page to make
it look like he was still reading, then programmed the terminal to
automatically flip to each successive page every two to three minutes, and then
to close the file when it reached the end and pick the next article at random.