Solfleet: The Call of Duty (97 page)

At least he
hoped she couldn’t get past the guards. She’d already shown how volatile she
could be back in Hansen’s office, but per the supervising agent’s instructions—that
brownnoser was
always
sucking up to the brass—she hadn’t been strapped
into her chair. A big mistake, in Krieger’s opinion.

The guards,
the same two MPs who’d dragged Royer’s wife in for questioning—they’d roughed
her up a little in the process, too, which wasn’t exactly going to be conducive
to gaining Royer’s cooperation if she happened to find out about it—started to
leave as he entered, but he raised a hand to stop them and closed the door
behind him.

“What are
you doing back in here, Krieger?” Royer asked him, spitting his name out as though
it were poison on her tongue. “I already told you I want an attorney.”

“I know what
you told me, Commander,” he responded as he sat in the chair to her right. “I
just thought I’d give you one more chance to change your mind and come clean
before I classify you as uncooperative in my report.”

“I
am
clean.”

“Yeah, so
you’ve told me. But Admiral Hansen and I just had a nice long conversation, and
he tells me otherwise.”

“Bullshit.”

Ignoring her
vulgarity, he further explained, “He told me all about what the two of you did
six and a half years ago. He gave me a full confession, Commander.”

Royer
snickered. She knew better than that. Hansen had a lifetime of training under
his belt. Krieger could interrogate him for a month and he still wouldn’t talk.
Besides, the Portal’s existence was classified, so he couldn’t have confessed
even if he’d wanted to.

“You, Mister
Krieger, are a liar,” she said, wearing a defiant grin. “Even if the admiral
were the type to stab his people in the back, which he isn’t, we didn’t do
anything wrong for him to confess to.”

“Oh. I see.”
He leaned slightly forward and rested his elbows on the arms of his chair,
folded his hands together, and asked, “So, you and Admiral Hansen
didn’t
head
up a project to produce thousands of cyberclones, then send them into combat
against the Veshtonn as soon as they were ready?”

Royer looked
him right in the eye and asked, “What’s a cyberclone?”

Krieger sat
back in his chair again and snickered. “That’s very funny, Commander. The other
inmates are going to love you. But we don’t have to talk about that now. If you
prefer, we can start by talking about Professor Min’para’s murder.”

Royer’s
defiant smile quickly faded. “What the hell are you talking about, Krieger? Who’s
Professor Min’para?”

“Don’t even
try it, Commander,” he said, shaking his head. “Admiral Hansen just gave you up
like a bad habit. He told me all about how you tried to convince him to
authorize the use of deadly force against the professor. He also told me that
he refused to do it, which puts the responsibility for the professor’s murder
squarely on your shoulders. Even as we speak, the Military Police are on their
way to pick up the only surviving member of the team that carried out that assassination
for you.” He knew that last part was a gamble—the only surviving member of the
team hadn’t actually been at the Federation Building where the murder occurred—but
the potential payoff, a full confession from Royer, was worth the risk. “Now, I
haven’t met Agent Kaminski yet, but I’d be willing to bet that his testimony
given in exchange for immunity from prosecution will back up what Hansen told
me. What do you think, Commander?”

Her jaw
clenched tight and her teeth ground together as she drew a deep, deep breath,
filling her lungs as her growing anger colored her face a warm blush red. “I
think you’re one sorry son of a bitch, Krieger.”

“I take it
you finally realize where you stand.”

“I’ll show
you where I stand,” she muttered under her breath.

“What’s that
supposed to mean?”

She glared
at him for a moment with murder in her eyes, then suddenly yelled at the top of
her lungs, “That back-stabbing son of a
bitch
!”

She leapt to
her feet with the final syllable and let go a blood-curdling scream as she charged
at Krieger, who reacted a second too late, and knocked him to the floor. She
made a break for the door, but the MPs were on her the next instant and
wrestled her hard to the floor.

“Get your
fucking hands off me!” she screamed. She lashed out, twisting and turning,
punching and kicking like a wild animal fighting for its life, as if she’d gone
completely insane. She clawed their faces, pulled their hair, tugged at their
uniforms and equipment—whatever it took to get them off of her—but in the end her
violent struggle was all for naught. Despite her adrenalin-enhanced strength, the
MPs managed to flip her onto her stomach, pin her down, and cuff her hands
behind her back.

When she
finally stopped struggling they lifted her to her feet, led her by the arms
past Krieger as he stood back up, and strapped her into her chair.

Krieger
stared at her as he brushed himself off. Her platinum hair had been pulled free
of whatever had been holding it in place and had fallen in disarray around her
shoulders. Tears stained her cheeks. Blood seeped from her left nostril and the
corner of her mouth. Her left sleeve was torn at the shoulder seem and the
front of her blouse had been ripped wide open, several of its buttons having
been pulled off. Every few seconds a drop of blood fell from her chin to her
chest and trickled down between her breasts, which rose and fell with her heavy
breathing, only to be absorbed into the fabric of her bright white bra.

The MPs
weren’t in much better shape themselves.

“That was
really stupid, Commander,” he finally said. “It’s all over for you now. I hope
you realize that.”

“Help me out
of this, Krieger,” she half-pleaded, half-demanded between labored breaths,
still more angry than frightened. “Or give me a way to help myself.”

“
Now
you want to help yourself?” he asked as he returned to his seat, genuinely
surprised by the sudden change.

She bowed
her head for a moment. Two more drops of blood dripped onto her chest and trickled
down to join the growing bright red stain in the center of her bra. Then she
looked back up and said, “Better late than never.”

“Agreed, but
how do I know you’ll tell me the whole truth?”

“I have a
wife to think about.”

Krieger
harrumphed. “You should have thought about her a minute ago.”

“I
was
thinking about her a minute ago. That’s why I lost it.” When Krieger didn’t
respond to that she added, “Come on, Krieger. I’m reaching out to you here.”

He thought
about it for a moment, then said, “All right, Commander. Waive your rights to
remain silent and talk to an attorney first. I’ll hear you out.”

“Consider
them waived.”

Krieger
turned to the MPs. “Close her blouse. Then call and have a medic sent up here.
I want all three of you looked over.”

“Yes, sir,”
the blond MP answered. She used a couple of her hairpins to close Royer’s
blouse as best she could, then headed for the door.

Krieger
watched her leave, then turned back to Royer. “So you want to help yourself.
All right, Commander. Let’s start with Min’para’s murder. When did you...”

“You’re
mistaken, Mister Krieger,” she interrupted. “His death wasn’t murder. I admit I
authorized the use of deadly force, but...”

“Against
Admiral Hansen’s orders?” he asked, wanting solid clarification on that point.

“Yes, but
only if it proved absolutely necessary. My orders were to bring him in alive
and unharmed if possible. He must have fired first or my people...”

“He didn’t
fire first, Commander,” Krieger told her, his impatient tone conveying that he
knew that to be an solid fact. “He wasn’t even armed. But let’s put that on
hold for now. I want to look at your reasons for wanting him out of the way in
the first place. There were those cyberclones of yours, of course, but they
weren’t the only thing he’d discovered, were they?”

“What do you
mean?”

Where is
Dylan Graves?”

Royer was
taken aback. How could he... Of course. Graves had told Min’para about his
mission to rescue the Crown Prince of the Cirran Republics, and about the
nightmares he’d suffered from afterwards. That had to be it. But had he
violated his word to the admiral and told the professor everything? Had he
violated his oath and disclosed the existence of the Portal? If he had, then
she’d only be hurting herself...and Karen...by keeping quiet about it now. And
for no good reason. Karen had to come first.

“How will answering
that question help me?” she asked.

“I can’t
promise
you anything, Commander,” he told her honestly. “I don’t have that kind of authority.
Answering that question might help you a lot, or it might only help you a little
bit. Then again, it might not help you at all. But I guarantee you this. Refusing
to answer it will hurt you. I’ll make sure of that. So what will it be?”

What indeed?
What should she do? She needed time to think. She needed time to weigh her options.
No promises, he’d said. Not even an ‘I’ll-put-in-a-good-word-for-you,-if...’
She’d sworn an oath to protect and defend the Earth and her colonies, and
protecting their secrets was part of that oath. Therefore, no promises...no
deal.

“Go to hell,
Krieger.”

Krieger
stood up. “Suit yourself, Commander.” He went to the door and opened it, and
stepped aside as the blond MP came stepped back inside.

“A medic
will be here in a few minutes,” she reported.

“All right.
Thank you,” Krieger acknowledged. Then, as he stepped into the corridor, he
said, “I hope you enjoy your confinement, Royer. It’s going to last a
very
long
time.”

“All right,
Krieger!” she hollered. She hated to give up. She hated to lose, but Karen
needed her. She was more important than anything else.

Krieger
stopped and turned an ear slightly toward her, but didn’t turn around. “All
right what, Commander?” he asked.

“You want to
know where Dylan Graves is? Fine. You’ve got the proper clearance level, so I’ll
tell you where he is. But the MPs will have to leave the room first.”

Now Krieger
did turn around. “No more bullshit?”

“No more
bullshit.”

He stepped
back in. “Ladies, if you please.” The MPs exchanged uncertain glances, then
looked at him, questioning him with their eyes. “It’s all right,” he told them.
“She’s handcuffed and strapped in. She can’t do anything.”

They
exchanged glances once more, then walked out into the corridor and took up a
new post just outside the door. Krieger closed it behind them.

“All right,
Commander,” he said as he returned to his chair. “So where is Dylan Graves?”

She
hesitated, knowing that once she started talking—once she began divulging
classified information—there would be no stopping. No turning back. She’d be committed
to that path. But she knew also that she had to do it, for Karen’s sake.
Besides, he might not have had a need to know—then again, maybe he did at this
point—but as a C.I.D. agent, he did have a Top Secret clearance. She needed
only to tell him, “This is classified Top Secret, Mister Krieger.”

“Understood,”
he assured her.

“All right
then. Dylan Graves is at an outpost called X-Ray One, on a top secret planet we’ve
code-named ‘Window World,’” she began. “Admiral Hansen sent him there in direct
violation of the president’s orders. He’s on an unsanctioned, illegal mission
to travel back in time through an ancient Tor’Roshan Portal the crew of the
Australia
discovered there a few decades ago. His objective is to alter certain specific events
in our history in order to change our present circumstances.”

For a moment
Krieger just stared at her, expressionless. Was she serious? Did she really
expect him to believe that? He couldn’t help himself. He had to ask. “Did you
actually just tell me that Lieutenant Dylan Graves is on a time-travel mission?”

“You don’t
believe me?”

“Of course I
don’t believe you.”

“It’s the
truth,” she said with a shrug.

He stood up
again, shaking his head. “You promised me no more bullshit, Commander. And now
you feed me what’s probably the biggest pile of...”

“Tell the president,”
she said.

“Excuse me?”

She stared
him right in the eye. “Tell President Shakhar what I just told you.”

“You want me
to call the President of the United Earth Federation and start spouting off at
the mouth with some fairy tale about...”

“All right!”
Royer shouted. “All right, Krieger. If you won’t go to the president, then go
to Chairman MacLeod. Ask him to tell her. Tell him I said we have an agent on
Window World waiting to go through the Portal. Tell him Commander Akagi held
him up—that he wouldn’t let him go through until he got confirmation of his
orders from Central Command. And tell him that while I was being arrested I
managed to send that confirmation to him from the comm-panel in Admiral Hansen’s
office. Or don’t tell him. The choice is yours, as will be the consequences.”

She was
lying. She
had
to be lying. Time-travel was the stuff of science-fiction
and abstract theoretical physics. It sure as hell wasn’t possible in the real
world. But no matter how deeply he stared into her desperate, angry eyes, he
could find no sign of the deceit that he knew had to be in there.

He sat back
down anyway...again. After all, it wouldn’t hurt to hear her out. The only
thing
he
stood to lose was a few more minutes of his time.

“Assuming
for the moment that what you say is true, why would you tell me about it behind
the admiral’s back? After all the years you two have served together I have to
believe your loyalty to him runs deeper than that.”