Starhold (19 page)

Sheel stood. “It’s all right, Tharp, I’ll handle this. You and the guards may leave us with Carr and wait outside.”

The guards and the young brute reluctantly retreated, but not before the one called Tharp got in a dirty look at the two new arrivals. He appeared to be mentally taking note of what to do to each of them when he got the chance.

“Sheel! What the hell is going on!” yelled the lead intruder. He was a rugged looking man wearing short, chestnut hair that came to a widow’s peak. He was dressed in royal blue garb, the same type of military uniform Carr and Sanchez had seen around town. A scar on his right cheek, his solid physique, and a dagger worn on his belt pegged him as a man not to be messed with.

By now, another man had arrived on the scene, sliding quietly into the back of the room. Sheel wasted no time making use of him. “Ah, Deputy Governor Goran. Would you be so kind as to entertain High Captain Balasi for a few minutes, while I confer with Fleetmaster Haldryn?” It was a command, not a request. The two men left the room as Sheel motioned for the fleetmaster to sit. As he grudgingly complied, Naar quickly shifted a chair from the wall and sat down close to Haldryn.

“Sheel!” barked the officer, “What’s happened? What are you doing about it? My ships have been conducting rescue operations all morning, but it appears there’s no one to rescue!”

Sheel stared down the military commander, much as the owner of a disobedient dog would. “Firstly, Fleetmaster, I am not ‘Sheel’—I am the Lord Governor and expect to be addressed as such. We’ve been over this. Secondly, there isn’t much to do other than search for survivors, although from what I understand, there probably aren’t any.”

“We’ve found none,
Lord Governor
,” Haldryn responded, saying the last two words as if he had a mouthful of metal shards. “I suppose the only thing we can do now is to rebuild the Threshold. How long do you think it will take?”

Sheel and Naar looked uncomfortably at each other and finally Sheel answered the question. “Fleetmaster, the entire scientific team that built the system was in the Threshold control room this morning. Everyone who knew anything about construction and maintenance of the device perished in that explosion. There will not be another Threshold. I’m afraid we are all in this universe to stay.”

Haldryn’s face went from red to ashen, from anger to heartache. “But, my family,” he said in a subdued voice. “My wife and children—they’re on the other side. I, I will never see them again, will I?”

Naar nudged her chair closer and placed her hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. The Lord Governor seemed to be a man who always had a witty comment or two up his sleeve, but now he was speechless.

Finally, Fleetmaster Haldryn looked up at Carr, possibly noticing him for the first time. “Who is this gentleman? Is he one of your civilian advisors?”

No matter what, considering Haldryn’s emotional state, this was not going to play out well. “My name is Frank Carr. I am a representative of the Sarissan Union, sent here to negotiate with your people.”

Haldryn’s expression again shifted, going from grief-stricken pale to flush with anger. “Sheel! I mean, Lord Governor Sheel. Why was I not notified?”

The Lord Governor glanced at Carr, then back to Haldryn. “Carr was apprehended this morning snooping about the city. He has at least two confederates and we are working to apprehend them.”

The fleetmaster glanced back at Carr with a murderous expression. “Spies! Saboteurs!
They
blew up the Threshold!”

The officer stood up as if he was going to attack Carr. Naar clutched at him and Sheel’s voice rose to take charge. “Sit down, Haldryn!” The fleetmaster looked at Sheel, who motioned him back into his chair. “I’ve already asked Carr about the Threshold and he assures me that his people were not involved.”

Haldryn looked incredulous. “And you believe him?”

“Not necessarily,” replied Sheel, “but we cannot rule out the possibility that it was indeed an accident. Naar, did you run the check I requested?”

The Governor’s assistant spoke to everyone, but with particular emphasis toward the fleetmaster. “We’ve examined the last several weeks’ worth of communications between the Threshold and Bakkoa. Doctor Acree’s team was going to perform some kind of procedure this morning at the Threshold called an E-Band Calibration. It could be that something went wrong.”

“Also,” Sheel added, “I have a suspicion that Carr and his friends may have made contact with the colony’s Underground organization. We need to hold him for a proper interrogation. How about that, Carr? Have you and your people communicated with the Underground?”

Carr played it with a deadpan expression. Mumphrey had mentioned something about an Underground at the café, but he hadn’t really had an opportunity to learn anything about them. “I didn’t know you had one.”

“Neither did I. You have an Underground movement?” asked Haldryn. “Excuse me for saying so, but the fact that you have active resistance to the government’s authority doesn’t reflect very well on the colonial administration.”

“There are a few dissidents,” said the Lord Governor, reaching to his desk to touch a comm button. “Doctor Devi, please come to my office. We are ready for you.” Sheel then turned back to Haldryn. “As I was saying, there are some malcontents. Not every Bakkoan was pleased with the amount of material and labor that went into constructing the Threshold over the last twelve years. Some people felt the effort should have gone into improving the colony, and others simply didn’t want to reestablish contact with the Empire.”

Haldryn was fuming again. “That’s not only treasonous, it’s—well, it’s sacrilege.” Something seemed to occur to the fleetmaster and he shifted toward Carr.

“How did you and your associates arrive on this planet? My people monitored no alien craft. That tells me that your vessel has an impressive stealth capability. Answer me!” he demanded.

Carr decided to stick to his diplomatic card and addressed the Governor, not the Rhuzari officer. “As I’ve said, I am a duly appointed representative of the Sarissan Union. My ship is a diplomatic vessel and I have no intention of turning it over to you.”

Haldryn simmered and Sheel appeared to be amused as he spoke. “I appreciate your situation Carr, but I’m inclined to agree with Fleetmaster Haldryn on this. Your people may hold a few unexpected technological advantages on us and stealth may be one. For you to scout us and then land on the planet undetected, that’s impressive indeed. I believe we need to take a closer look at this vessel of yours.”

“Good luck finding it,” Carr quipped, knowing he shouldn’t have been flippant, but feeling good about the taunt at the same time. As if on cue, a woman in a white lab coat entered the office.

“Ah, Doctor Devi,” greeted Sheel. “Excellent timing.”

Dr. Devi was a handsome middle-aged woman with streaks of gray peeking through her brunette hair. Carr didn’t know if she was a scientist or a physician, but he had a feeling he was about to find out. She stood, hands in her lab coat pockets, awaiting Sheel’s orders.

“Doctor, take charge of Carr here,” directed Sheel. “We need to know about his cohorts, any connections to the Underground, and most especially, where his spaceship is located. Naar will fill you in.”

“Lord Governor, just so you understand, our drugs may not work on him,” Devi warned. “There are some subtle differences in the physiology of humans in this universe as compared to our own. As with the other subjects, we may get answers and we may not.”

“Do what you can, Doctor,” ordered Sheel.

Everyone stood and Carr followed the doctor with some trepidation. As he passed Haldryn, the fleetmaster put his hand on Carr’s arm, stopping him. “If I find out that you are in any way responsible for me never seeing my family again, I will personally kill you and everyone with you,” he vowed.

As Carr followed the women out of the office, he heard Haldryn going on to Sheel. “We need that ship, Lord Governor. Imagine our titan warship with that kind of stealth ability.” Carr was quick to imagine it and also why it must never be allowed to happen.

Entering the foyer, he found Tharp, the original two guards and two new greenshirts—reinforcements in case he decided to cause a commotion. There was also a wheeled gurney. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to lie down,” said Devi. “We’ll take him to Examination Room Two.”

Carr vacillated, looking around. There was no way he was going to physically defeat five men. Naar saw his hesitation, but Tharp welcomed it. “Please, Carr,” Naar implored, “it’s pointless to attempt escape. You’ll be the only one who gets hurt.”

Carr conceded and was strapped to the stretcher, then wheeled down several hallways. Naar pushed the stretcher as Devi walked at his side. The doctor had dismissed the guards until after the procedure. There was no need for them to overhear things the Lord Governor might prefer they not hear.

“Drugs?” Carr asked.

“Drugs,” confirmed Devi. “There will be no harmful side effects, other than the truth.”

OMI veterans like Frank Carr underwent psychological and physical conditioning to mitigate the effects of the most commonly employed truth-drugs, but who knew what the Rhuzari had come up with, especially with a two hundred year advantage. And if they captured Sanchez… He hoped that she’d do the smart thing, which was to head for the ship and escape into outer space.

As Naar pushed the stretcher down the hallway, Dr. Devi noticed several nasty bruises on her arm. “Honestly, Naar, why do you allow him to do that to you?” asked the older woman.

“I like it. It’s… thrilling,” said Naar unapologetically. “Besides, you’re a woman. We use sex to control our men, right?”

Devi gave a sardonic laugh. “Clearly, you have him right where you want him.”

“Don’t knock it, Doc. You had your chance, now don’t begrudge me mine.”

“Not to change the subject ladies, but quick question,” said Carr, wanting to change the subject very much. “Doctor Devi, I heard you say something in the Governor’s office about ‘the other subjects.’ Some six months ago, a gas-mining ship came into the Sol system, the
Theodora
. We assume your people captured it.” As they rolled on down the hall, he saw Devi send Naar a sideways look. His question hit home, but he got no answer.

“Look, I just want to know if there were any survivors.”

They came to the end of a hallway and Naar swung the stretcher around to maneuver it through a doorway. “One,” said Dr. Devi. “That ship—there was one survivor.”

Carr was pushed into the room and the women followed, the door closing behind them.

18: Hammers

Boutwell

Planet Sarissa

There’s a shot, slamming into Juan Leyva’s temple and with a head flick, the Villanueva sweeper redirects the ball over the end line for yet another Harlee corner kick. That was a cracker from Rudy Jessup, but it was well played by Leyva. This will be the Hammers fifth corner of the day, much to the delight of the maroon clad Harlee supporters that have filled Century Stadium. So far in this match, Harlee has been dominant, leading one – nil with about fifteen minutes remaining in the first half. The thousands of Villanueva supporters who have journeyed here to Sarissa have had little to cheer about since kickoff. You are watching our StarSports coverage of the 2568 Pan-Union Cup Final on ONElink. Steinbauer will take the corner…

The linkcast droned on inside the government’s luxury suite, even though many of its occupants were watching the match from the suite’s balcony seats. In her capacity as Prime Minister, Renata Darracott made a ceremonial appearance before the contest, looking congenial and wishing both sides good luck. It was all part of the silly tradition of politicians intruding on events where they didn’t belong but where the photo op was too great to turn down. The PM had been seen and heard by millions of ONElink viewers on the Six Worlds. Not a bad day’s work, but now that the match had actually started, Darracott found herself bored with it all.

Others inside the Century Stadium luxury suite were having a better time. Victor Polanco had shunned his uniform for civilian attire today and was holding court with a variety of government, business, and social VIPs who were visiting the private box, all being allowed to pay their respects for a few minutes. Darracott had to admit that she enjoyed meeting the actor Drew Somerset and his wife. He was so much shorter than she’d imagined.

Thank goodness for the private box. Artemis was shining brightly today and the fans in the regular seats looked like they were broiling. The Prime Minister tried to follow the game, but she had never been a sports fan. She cheered when the others did and enjoyed the ample food and drink. Victor tried to school her on what was happening, pointing out key players and explaining the rules.

“Number seven is Rudy Jessup, the leading scorer for the Hammers,” Polanco said, and then lowered his voice so Auric Banks wouldn’t hear. “I think he’s the most overrated player on the field.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And number twenty-two for Villanueva United is Aquino. He was a great player in his day, but he’s lost a step or two the past few seasons.”

“Really, that’s interesting.”

“You know,” Polanco teased, “politicians are usually much better at feigning interest.”

Darracott rolled her eyes. “I feigned a lot of interest before the game, don’t ask too much of me. Now, I’m just enjoying the party. But do go on explaining dear, you’re doing a wonderful job.” She wanted to reach over and hold Victor’s hand, but they were sitting in the front row of the suite’s glass-enclosed balcony. Fans and linkcams had a clear view of their leaders enjoying the match, just being ‘regular folks.’ The handholding would have to wait until later.

Despite his earlier misgivings, Leonardo Sanchez seemed to be enjoying himself, even with his team’s rough start. Polanco’s Chief of Staff, Auric Banks, was delighted over the excellent play of Harlee, but he had toned down his gloating, especially around Admiral Sanchez. Banks and Sanchez were friends, but Sanchez still outranked the captain.

The only person who didn’t seem to be having a good time was Lieutenant Nash, a staffer for Banks. She had repeatedly entered the suite to whisper this or that into the ear of her increasingly irritated captain. Each time she made an appearance, she had a more aggrieved look on her face. Darracott felt for the poor lieutenant, but the affairs of the government didn’t stop for a football match, and Nash had the unenviable task of keeping her superior informed of events in the real world.

Ten minutes remain in the half, plus any stoppage time the referee adds. Here’s Emil Van Ness, pushing the ball on a Harlee counter and he’s tackled by Cody Wiggins. Oh, quite a hard tackle there by Wiggins and one that’s earned him a yellow card. Van Ness remains on the pitch, and I have to say this doesn’t look go. The medical staff is being summoned…

“Oh, no,” moaned Auric Banks. “Emil Van Ness is our best midfielder. I hope he’s not hurt too badly.” Despite the captain’s wishes, Van Ness stayed down on the pitch a long time as medical personnel treated him. Almost fifteen minutes went by before the injured player was carried off the field on a stretcher, one arm waving to the crowd as they gave him a nice ovation.

“Bet it’s a broken leg,” observed Polanco. “By the length of time it took to treat him, it could even be a compound fracture.”

“That’s terrible,” said Darracott. She looked around to ask Banks a question about the fallen player, but the captain wasn’t there.

“Just summoned by his boss,” Sanchez quipped, “you know, the lieutenant.”

The game resumed and it was almost halftime when Banks and Lieutenant Nash reentered the suite, with Nash setting up a portable comm screen on a nearby table.

Banks addressed Polanco but wanted Admiral Sanchez to hear as well. “I’m sorry to bother you with this right now, sir, but I think you should take this call.”

“Who is it?” asked Polanco.

“Commodore Epstein, on Presidio Station.”

Polanco and Sanchez shot each other looks as Lieutenant Nash finalized the comm link.

An image of a distraught Epstein appeared on the screen. “I’m sorry to bother you Admiral, but I couldn’t locate Admiral Sanchez.”

Sanchez moved into the picture next to Polanco. “I’m right here, Commodore. What’s going on? What’s the problem?”

“Again, my apologies sirs, but something’s not right up here.”

“What are you talking about, Commodore? What’s not right?” asked Polanco. Darracott saw Polanco’s amusement over the discomfort of a subordinate fade into an expression of concern.

“Well,” began Epstein, sounding like a man reconsidering whether he should have made the call, “sir, have you issued any orders placing Admiral Choi in command of First Fleet?”

Polanco looked around at Sanchez and Banks. All of them looked concerned now.

“No, I have not. Who told you that Admiral Choi was in command of First Fleet?”

“Admiral Choi did, sir, on screen about ten standard minutes ago. She’s shuttling out to
Galatea
to take command. She told me that Admiral Maxon was taken ill.”

“Commodore, have you tried to reach
Galatea?”

“That’s another thing, sir—all comms with the flagship are down. We can’t even raise them by TachCom. And there’s something else, Admiral, a few ships in the fleet are repositioning themselves. As far as I know, nobody’s given orders for fleet movement.”

“One minute, Commodore,” said Polanco as he gave Lieutenant Nash the sign to mute the comm.

“What is it, Victor? What’s wrong?” asked Darracott, her question going unanswered.

Sanchez placed his hand on Polanco’s arm. “You recognize what’s going on, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, it was my plan.”

“What plan? What’s going on?” asked Darracott again.

Polanco turned, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Brin Choi is using the same plan that I used last year to take over the government. She’s trying to seize control of First Fleet, and if she succeeds…”

Darracott understood. All that she and Polanco had accomplished, or might ever hope to accomplish, hung in the balance—not to mention possibly their lives as well.

“I wonder where Channa is,” thought Sanchez aloud.

“If I know Brin, she’s probably dead,” Polanco replied solemnly. “We need to relocate to a secure location—now.”

Captain Banks moved quickly to speak with Colonel Miyazato, head of Polanco’s security detail. The Admiral himself turned back to the comm monitor.

“Commodore, how many Marines do you have on the station right now?”

“Our usual compliment, sir, one company.”

Polanco gave a quick nod. “All right, Commodore, I want you to put two platoons in full combat gear, get them on dropships, and send them down here to the stadium in Boutwell, on the double. Their orders are to find me and my party.”

Epstein swallowed hard. “Right away, sir, and one other thing, Ad—” The signal cut out, Epstein’s image replaced with the SUSF logo.

Lieutenant Nash toyed with the comm controls for a few seconds. “I’m sorry Admiral, but the problem is on Presidio’s end. They’ve stopped transmitting.”

* * * *

As a standard contingency, Colonel Miyazato had prepared a safe room in the stadium, situated close to the government luxury suite. The colonel formed up his men, along with Darracott’s SSB security team commanded by Stormy Weathers, and they were ready to escort the principals to the new location. The Prime Minister imagined that Katsuro Miyazato was very anxious right now. If Choi and other space force officers were involved in a plot, Miyazato probably wasn’t sure he could trust every Marine either, even the ones coming from Presidio Station. And if Miyazato wasn’t anxious, Renata Darracott was positive that she was nervous enough for both of them.

The group began their move to the secure location. The safe room wasn’t very far away, but it felt like they were walking from Boutwell to Esterkeep. They would go down a short hallway in the back of the suite and into the concourse corridor, turn left, and about another twenty meters to a room on the right. Two Marines sent ahead by Miyazato signaled that the coast was clear.

Reaching the end of the short hall and turning into the larger concourse without incident, Darracott took a deep breath. She realized that somewhere along the way Victor had taken her hand. They grinned nervously at each other and he gave her a quick wink.

In the concourse, they found the two Marines sent ahead by Miyazato and four uniformed SSB security guards, wearing their familiar khaki uniforms and red berets. They all had their weapons at the ready and everyone’s head was on a swivel.

Darracott wasn’t sure who spoke, but she thought it was one of her security officers. A male voice behind her said, “Hey, these aren’t the same guards that—”

Stormy Weathers shoved her to the ground. Victor’s hand slipped out of hers as the chaos erupted. The sounds, flashes, and smells of gunfire erupted all around her. Voices yelled and screamed. Weathers had jumped on her back to protect her, but at the same time, he was shooting his pistol. His strong body pressed her to the floor as the shooting and the chaos continued, then she felt him shudder, and then nothing but the motionless weight of his body on hers.

After maybe ten seconds of hell, there was a moment of reorientation, similar from when one came out of hyperspace. Someone lifted the lifeless body of Stormy Weathers off her and a woman’s voice cracked with emotion as she said, “oh, no, not the boss too.”

Darracott looked around. All the red bereted security guards lay still. Marines were checking each of them, making sure they were dead and collecting their weapons. Several Marines were injured and at least two looked like they might be dead. As with Stormy Weathers, they died to protect her and Victor. Oh, Gods! Victor…

On the floor to her left was Victor Polanco, laying on his side, motionless, his dead eyes staring at her. As Darracott realized that she must have been the last thing he ever saw, tears begin to trickle down her cheeks. Colonel Miyazato was hunched over the body. Miyazato’s mouth was moving, but she heard nothing. Maybe he was saying a hushed prayer, or maybe he was silently cursing the assailants—or himself, she didn’t know. Finally, Katsuro Miyazato reached down and closed Polanco’s eyes.

“Rennie, are you injured?”

She looked toward the voice and found Leonardo Sanchez sitting on the floor, holding a uniformed body in his arms. It took her a moment to recognize who it was—it was Lieutenant Nash.

“No, I don’t think so. You?”

“No, because of this girl,” he said looking down at Nash. “One of them started shooting my way and she jumped in front of me. She saved my life. This girl, she saved my life.”

“Her name is Nash, I’m not sure I know her first name,” Darracott tried to say while crying.

“Yes, Lieutenant Nash. Lieutenant Nash saved my life,” Sanchez repeated as one of the Marines knelt at his side to offer assistance.

By now, Miyazato and Auric Banks had come to where Darracott sat on the floor.

“Prime Minister, are you sure you’re not hurt,” asked Captain Banks.

Still crying, Darracott tried to answer. “No, I don’t think so. I’m not—”

“She may be in shock,” said the colonel. “We need to get out of this concourse and to a secure site, and do it fast, Captain.”

“And then what?”

“Then hunker down and wait for those Marines from Presidio.”

By now, Rachel Randa had joined the two men. She was second in command of the Prime Minister’s security team. “Colonel, are you certain your secure room is still secure?”

It took all the discipline that Miyazato could muster to contain himself. “It may be that no place is secure with the SSB around.”

Now it was Randa’s turn at self-control. She carefully tucked her necktie back under her suit jacket while checking her emotions. “Colonel, I lost two men in that firefight, including my boss. If we had been in on it, they’d still be alive, and you’d all be dead. Those guys may have been wearing SSB uniforms, but you can bloody well bet they weren’t SSB.”

People were starting to poke their heads out of the other suites and some of the soldiers helping with security were starting to turn up. Colonel Miyazato rushed into the nearest luxury suite and ordered everyone out.

“What the hell is going on?” demanded an incredulous VIP. When Miyazato fired his pistol into the ceiling, everyone ran for the door. His remaining team members and the security officers now under Randa’s charge moved everyone, including the dead, into the newly commandeered suite. Banks quickly negotiated with the ranking army officer on the scene to withdraw her soldiers and set up a security perimeter.