Exile's Return Page 7

  The door chime rang and pulled me from the depths of a deep and peaceful sleep. I hit the communication panel next to my bed and grumbled out, “Just a minute.” The room was dark and peaceful and so cozy. A clock showed in a garish red light that it was 0300hrs. I heard the door chime again, and immediately felt grumpy. What was so important and urgent that it couldn't wait until the morning? What the hell was going on?

  I stretched and turned the lights up to an acceptable level, already mourning my lost sleep, and headed towards the door. I opened it expecting to see Charlie with a security detail. What I saw were three men in black hoods with riot sticks.

  “What's going on? Is there trouble?” I asked, confused.

  I saw one of the men, and his face twisted into sick smile. “Yeah, for you, bitch.” With that he grabbed me quickly by the ears, lifted me up and cracked me hard in the ribs with his stick.

  I felt pain flood through my body as I heard the crack of my bones. I squealed out from the impact, and he let me fall heavily to the floor. Trying to move and get away, I reached out with my right forepaw to pull myself away from the door but a vicious stick came down and cracked across my foreleg, shattering the bone. I squealed in pain again as they surrounded me, beating me again and again until I was almost numb to the impacts.

  Coughing up blood, I sputtered, gasping for breath, spraying it across the floor when I heard, “That’s enough, finish the morphic bitch.” With that, I felt an awful crack across my skull.

  // NEURAL ACTIVITY CEASED, LOG SUSPENDED //

  // ENTERING STANDBY MODE //

  Chapter 11

  // GAP IN RECORD //

  // ALTERNATE DATA CENTER AVAILABLE //

  // ERROR CHECKSUM 15A8FB42 //

  // C.STEVENS // HOUSE: EARTH // ADAPTING //

  I was in the middle of a wonderful dream when out of nowhere I heard a repetitive, rhythmic beeping, ringing cacophonously within the walls of my perfect fantasy. Blearily I opened my eyes, and said to no one in particular, “It can’t be reveille yet; we were still at the bar. It’s not fair,” as the tone assaulted my now-awake ears once again.

  “Stevens here. What’s worth waking me up at 0300?” I asked, testily.

  “Lieutenant Commander, this is ship’s security. There’s been an attack on the ambassador. You need to report to the med bay immediately,” he answered flatly.

  “Oh shit, how bad?” I felt a cold chill.

  “She’s alive, that’s all I know. Now, I suggest you move it, Commander,” he said with authority.

  “Aye, aye, Stevens out,” I said as I shot out of bed, got dressed and made my way for the med bay.

  I made it there in record time, panting and out of breath. Of all the things that could have gone wrong, this was the worst. If she was suddenly unable to perform her duties, then my mission was a failure, and that could mean bad things for the entire alliance.

  The Doctor approached, snapping me out of my reflection.

  “Commander Stevens, good morning,” the doctor said with an air of detachment.

  “Not so far, all due respect,” I countered.

  “Noted. Still, the news isn’t all bad. I do think she’ll recover.”

  “Think? What do you mean think?” I demanded.

  “I am not an expert on her biology and we don’t have a full suite of equipment for a morphic of her type. It wasn’t feasible to retrofit the entire med bay for her. Still, she is stable, and her internal systems are showing to be repairing the damage. I’d say the odds are high she will make a full recovery.”

  “Very well. I will need a full report from you so I can debrief Command on my side of things. When can you have that to me?” I asked, dreading that call.

  “You should have it by 0700,” he said efficiently.

  “Thank you. I hope you understand that for the duration of her stay here, I will be here as well.”

  “Understood. If you will excuse me, I’ll get to work on my report.” The doctor retreated into his office.

  I grabbed a chair and set it next to the bed where my charge was convalescing. I was never much for the morphic stuff, it just didn’t make much sense to me, but live and let live. Still, it was evident that other people didn’t share the same tolerances that I had.

  I sat down with my data pad and started authoring my report. According to protocol, security would have already notified Command, so I relied on that chain and did my best to prepare for the morning ass-chewing I would receive after the Admiral had finished his coffee at 0700.

  I sat there, writing in official speak, the same as I had done for my entire career, and used the familiar routine to let my mind drift over the situation. Something was nagging me. It was unusual for Snow to be on the ship, that went without saying, but that alone wasn’t enough to motivate a well planned attack. As I reflected on the situation, the doc brought his report well ahead of schedule. I thanked him and looked it over. It confirmed my worst fears.

  A security nightstick was found at the scene, and her body bore the evidence of massive blunt force trauma to the head, her forelegs and her ribs. Broken bones, a skull fracture and contusions showed that they had meant to kill her; no one non-augmented could have survived that beating. Luckily the people involved didn’t know enough about morphics to do a more thorough job.

  I set to writing my official report, and started to feel a bit sleepy. Setting it aside, I asked the doc to have his nurse wake me at 0700 and settled into the chair for a fitful second half of sleep.

  The time passed quicker than it should have, and before I knew it a nurse was shaking me awake. The doctor had long since gone to catch up on lost sleep himself. I asked if I could use his office, which had a good view of the med bay, and she said I could. Sitting down behind the desk, I began the procedures to establish a secure channel.

  The console showed its progress bar, and after a minute I saw the confirmation of a secure link. It was quickly replaced by the image of a very unhappy Admiral.

  “Stevens, just what kind of show are you running there? You are in charge of her security, and I get a report this morning she was almost beaten to death. Just what in the fuck are you doing out there?” he demanded.

  “Admiral, I was operating under the assumption that the Roam was secure. Only essential personnel have been briefed to her mission. People know she’s here, but something is off about this. I'm working on my report now, but in my opinion this was planned in advance, sir. They knew exactly where to hit her,” I said flatly, relating what I knew.

  “What evidence do you have of this?” the Admiral asked, his face still red.

  “They knew the precise location of her quarters, struck in the middle of the night, and somehow they were able to get their hands on sticks from ship’s security. My ability to investigate further is limited, but if there wasn’t at least command involvement, that shouldn’t be possible,” I said.

  The Admiral’s face faded to white, then went back to red. “Dammit! This confirms something that Command has been worried about for months. Stevens, you know how tense things are on Earth, but there is some evidence that the military is compromised by anti-alliance dissidents.”

  “Dissidents? Forgive me sir, but that’s a serious claim. I know the Mendian Alliance isn’t popular, but a section of the flotilla going rogue could be disastrous. How bad could we be compromised?” I said, feeling a surge of worry.

  “That’s the thing; we don’t know how deep this goes. Intelligence is investigating, but we don’t know who we can trust. The Mendians are a powerful tool for fear in the right hands. They are considerably more advanced than we are, it’s unlikely we could mount any sort of effective defense if they decided to throw down the gauntlet, and in addition, there’s the question of their motives for pushing the morphic technology on us along with the gate network. There are many who feel that the morphics are the first step in a possible invasion of Earth.”

  “That’s crazy though. In the years since the Treaty of Gates th
ere hasn’t been one hostile action between the Mendians and Earth. Our relations are stable, if mysterious, and as advanced as they are, they have a consistent upper hand. Logically, if they wanted to take us over, they would have done that by now,” I said, trying to work it out in my head.

  “Not everyone agrees with you Stevens, and with the United Earth Alliance only being fifty-one years old, things are more fragile than they should be,” the Admiral said, leaning back.

  “Fifty-one years old, but still, World War Three was the costliest yet. New Delhi, Washington DC, St Petersburg, and Guangzhou are still radioactive. You would think we would learn, sir,” I replied.

  He leaned forward, “Never underestimate the human drive to slaughter one another. My grandfather talked about the nuking of New Delhi. We lost family there,” the Admiral said darkly. “If we aren’t careful, the Mendian Alliance could be the end of the Earth Alliance. I have transmitted orders to McHenry: you or he are to be by the Ambassador’s side at all times. He will be meeting with you in the next half hour with a rifle. Your mission and her survival are your top priority. Do you understand me? Your orders are amended to give you total discretion to guarantee the Ambassador’s safety.”

  “Aye, aye, we will get her there safely,” I said.

  “See that you do. A lot is riding on her success. Admiral Chopra, out.”

  I leaned back in my chair. This was big, and again I felt a slight chill. The success of the mission could be all that prevented a civil war within the ranks. I stood up, straightened my uniform and took my post by the Ambassador, intent on keeping her safe.

  It was almost 0800 when Vice Admiral McHenry arrived. He had a rifle slung over each shoulder, and my personal side arm from secure storage, along with coffee. He smiled on seeing me, set down the arms, and then offered me coffee.

  “Thank God, you’re a life-saver Admiral,” I said cheerily and sipped the hot, life-giving beverage.

  “Seems to me you would need it after the night you had. Just how bad did Chopra chew on your ass this morning?” he said.

  “I think I still have some left. Still, it is understandable. This is a serious breach in her security,” I replied.

  “He's a gruff sonuvabitch, but he’s damn good at what he does. Tell me, is your package secure?” he said.

  “Yes, the target seemed to be her and her alone,” I said quickly. “It is in secure coded storage on the LRRC.”

  “Good. We can’t afford another hiccup. Chopra informed you about the amendment to your orders, I assume?” he said as I nodded, buckling my side arm about my waist.

  “Absolutely, total discretion to ensure her safety and the success of the mission, and either you or I are to be by her side at all times,” I replied, relating them back to him for clarity.

  “Good. Just how bad is she?”

  I related her condition to the Admiral and he nodded gravely, then spoke. “I’ll take watch here. I want you on the hunt. UEA Command is updating your clearances. Proceed to your quarters and start a parallel investigation with ship’s security. You will report to me directly. Understood?”

  “Crystal, Sir. We will get to the bottom of this.”

  “Very good. Now get to work,” the Admiral said.

  “Aye aye, Sir.”

  Chapter 12

  I was getting nowhere. I had been sitting at my desk for hours, using my new clearance to pull logs, examine patterns of security, but everywhere I turned I hit an all too familiar solid brick wall. I poured myself another cup of coffee and let my head thud against my desk. Somehow it helped, and felt like the most productive thing I had done all day.

  For the last few hours I had been slowly weaving a picture that was disturbing me more and more. In any normal situation, there would be records as to who issued the night sticks, there would be surveillance footage in the corridors and on the elevators, but time and time again, there was no trace. The files were missing, but with no sign of deletion. Whoever was helping them had high level clearance and knew enough about ship security to cover their tracks.

  I took a sip of my coffee and finally accepted the inevitable conclusion:

  A senior officer had to be involved.

  My mind immediately shot back to my call with Chopra. The Roam was on her first mission, and she was the flagship to boot. If this was a wider conspiracy, could it be possible that the senior officers were hand picked so that the newest ship in the fleet would fall to the opposition in a coup?

  The idea, which was unthinkable just a few hours before, seemed more and more like a stark and depressing reality. There was no other way to justify the missing files, the sheer meticulous nature with which the tracks were covered. It all pointed to a wider, and higher ranking conspiracy.

  I sighed and slumped down in my chair. If that was the case, then this mission was going to be a lot tougher than I thought, and my charge might be the hinging point of a coup d’état. Still, there was always the possibility that if my mission was successful, it could even the playing field and quiet the opposition.

  I just hoped there was still time.

  I checked in at the infirmary and was informed that Snow was still in a medically induced coma. Feeling grim, and having gotten nowhere in the hours since I started my investigation, I decided to take a circuitous route and make my way back to the infirmary to meet the Admiral. After all, I still had an hour left before I was due to relieve him, and as I had learned years ago, never volunteer for extra duty.

  Moving about the Roam allowed me to take stock of the newest ship in the fleet. Over the next five years they would be phasing out the Shark and River class cruisers, and bring in these new, Wandering Class vessels. I never liked the naming scheme, but in our new, unified world, things like rivers, sharks and exploration were the most politically correct choice and supposedly emphasized a post-conflict Earth. There were no national heroes anymore, only international ones. There were no countries anymore, just continental governments. These new ships were supposed to represent the best of us; they were the ones commissioned to explore the galaxy, ever expanding the borders of the frontier.

  Still, for every deep space vessel commissioned the UEA built two Challenger Class destroyers. It had been fifty-three years since the end of the third world war, fifty-three years since we had lost a vessel or a soldier in a war, but there were still those of us who looked out upon the night sky and feared, rather than wondered.

  The United Earth Alliance, the first truly unified world government, was now in jeopardy because of the same mistrusting ideologies that had caused the death of hundreds of millions. I remembered my grandfather talking about the days before, when countries like the USA, China, or Russia forced the world in line with their political ideologies, but they had lost that right when the missiles fell, and the last major war showed the fallacy of biggest kid on the street diplomacy, but now it seemed to all be at risk.

  It made me think that maybe the morphics had the right idea, bowing out of humanity before it tore them apart.

  “Heh, me as a morphic, now there’s a thought!” I said to no one in particular, and laughed to myself.

  I checked my watch and decided it was best to make my way toward the infirmary.

  “Lieutenant Commander Stevens! Good afternoon!” the Admiral said, as he set an old-style printed book down over the rifle on his lap. "Step into the office with me, I’d like to hear what you found.”

  “Yes sir, I am ready to report,” I said in military fashion, but swallowed hard. This was not going to be a good meeting.

  We stepped into the doctor’s glass-walled office and shut the door. Nurses flitted about the med bay, checking supplies and going about their daily duties. In an instinctive motion the Admiral took the doctor’s seat behind the desk and said:

  “Solider, Report.”

  I snapped a smart salute and felt my brain slide into auto-pilot.

  “Lieutenant Commander Charles Stevens, reporting as ordered, sir,” and then let my hand fall
to my side.

  “At ease. Tell me what you have found.”

  I let my body relax and put my hands behind my back.

  “In short, nothing sir. Someone has meticulously cleared the records to the ship’s systems, but not in any traceable way. They are missing, not deleted.”

  The Admirals face turned a shade paler than I was used to seeing. “Understood. Analysis?”

  “Admiral, it is this officer’s opinion that senior ranking officials aboard the ship may be involved. At this point, there is circumstantial evidence to confirm at least some of the fears of Admiral Chopra, that there could be a wider conspiracy at work here,” I said, and felt a chill.

  “How do you advise that we proceed?” he asked.

  “Cautiously. You are my direct chain of command for this assignment. If senior officers are compromised, it should stay that way. We don't know who we can trust,” I said, feeling a pang of guilt at having to distrust my fellow servicemen.

  “I am inclined to agree, but that leads us no closer to finding out who did this. I will do some checking. I’d like some options as to how to recover the information. Think on it, and have a verbal report ready by 0700 tomorrow morning. Keep this off the coms, and use secure channels only. This could be serious,” he said, and rose. “Dismissed,” he added, and I saluted; then he did, and slapped me on the back.

  “Don’t worry son, we are going to work all of this out,” the Admiral said in a fatherly tone.

  “I hope so sir. To be frank, I am not liking this a damn bit.”

  “Nor should you,” the Admiral said.

  I settled down into my chair and got to work with my data pad for awhile, but came up with dead end after dead end. Every now and again I’d hear a whimper, or Snow would move some in place. It was distracting and only served to make me angry. In truth I felt responsible -- if I could have left her on Centioc, all of this drama would have been worlds away.