Op File Sanction Page 9

  The sword rested comfortably in her hand and the canopy of branches and close in trees resembled a dimly lit spaceship’s corridor. Warlock knew this battlefield. It was home turf for a Striker and the Empress’ troops were about to be assaulted. They just didn’t realize it, yet.

  ***

  Sniffling, coughing, brushing against a branch, scraping a foot on dried leaves, all created noises distinct from the night sounds of a forest. The trail watcher made none of the human clatter Warlock expected. However, she identified his location as if he’d stepped out of the shadows and introduced himself. He chewed gum with his mouth open.

  The Striker followed the lip-smacking to its source and silenced the man with her katana. After flicking the blood from her blade, Warlock slinked off the trail and into the forest.

  A quarter of the way around the perimeter, she caught sight of a shape standing relaxed between a pair of trees. When holding a rifle and alert, the barrel was pointed down range. If relaxed, most shooters allowed the muzzle to drift left. Warlock’s clockwise route took advantage of the need for a rifleman to physically twist to the side in order to search the right rear. The lack of checking his five o’clock cost the second mercenary his life. Once he was sent to the arms of the Empress, Warlock peered through the trees at Talon One resting beside the derelict house. After a quick scan looking for more combatants near the shuttle, she moved on seeking another target.

  “Warlock. It’ll soon be dawn and we need to be gone,” Poet stammered. “Lift before sunrise and climb into the sky. Else, we’ll be arrested, threatened, and questioned.”

  Usually, she enjoyed her pilot’s unique response to stress. But, in the woods hunting prey, it created a distraction she didn’t need. Lifting a hand to the collar of the body armor, she clicked off the combat radio and ghosted back into the trees.

  The moon set and darkness closed in eliminating the shadows. In her night vision goggles, near objects stood out while distant branches blended with the foliage. Halfway around the perimeter, Warlock began to slacken her vigil. If the single man on the trail had been going for reinforcements, maybe the mercenaries only had one man watching the shuttle and another watching the trail. Then her lethargy evaporated and her senses heightened.

  He had training based on his location and the stillness of his body. Kneeling reduced his silhouette and a bush hat broke up the shape of his head. Warlock might have walked right by him if not for boredom and the deer.

  The deer walked into the clearing of the ruined house and the rifleman targeted it. He had enough discipline not to shoot but couldn’t resist putting a laser beam on the animal. Warlock spotted the aiming laser as if it was a flashlight casting a narrow beam of light through the monochrome scene. Tracking it back to the rifle’s scope, she estimated the man’s location and stalked towards him.

  ***

  Once Warlock finished clearing the circuit, she squatted beside the trail. All of the watchers were down and it was time for her and Walden to vacate the woods and get off Planet Uno.

  “Poet,” she whispered after thumbing on the radio.

  “Are you wounded, injured, incapacitated, suffering battle damage? Require first aid, medical attention?” he strung out the questions in rapid fire. “Captured, Seized? Caught, bagged, netted? What’s the safe word?”

  “I’m fit,” Warlock advised. Then she reminded him. “We don’t have a safe word.”

  “Well, we should,” he scolded.

  “Start you preflight. At minus five seconds to launch,” she instructed. “Open the side hatch. I’ll stand watch until we’re ready to go.”

  “Ignition sequence,” he said. Two minutes later, the rattling of the ion engine shook the woods, no doubt, alerting the mercenaries to their location. Then he announced.” Five, four, three...”

  Warlock sprinted from the trail, crossed the clearing, and leaped through the hatch. The deck tilted and she rolled, tumbling back where she collided against the legs of a passenger seat. Wind whistled through the open hatch and she attempted to reach it. But the steep tilt and forward momentum of the shuttle pinned her in place. There was a slap and scrape on the undercarriage before a twig from an oak tree flew into the cabin. Then the hatch closed and the wind ended. Diosa pushed to a sitting position.

  “We got away clean,” Walden proclaimed from the cockpit. “We cleared the tree by half a meter.”

  “Almost,” Warlock stated as she waved the sprig of oak in the air.

  Chapter 10 – Information Packet

  Talon One lined up and entered the intake tube. At the end of the long access conduit, the shuttle leveled out in a landing bay. Walden reduced power and the shuttle lowered onto a sled that whisked it away. Minutes later and deeper into Orbital Station, the sled decelerated and moved the shuttle to a commercial dock beside The Talon.

  “It’s good to be home,” announced Walden.

  “Don’t you find it odd that we consider a government-owned spaceship as home?” Diosa pondered.

  “Not in the least. Some people work day jobs,” Walden reflected as he unstrapped from the pilot’s seat. “Others are called to go forth, hunt the enemies of our society, and bring them to justice.”

  “We have to find them first,” Diosa suggested to her pilot.

  Walden brushed by her heading for the hatch.

  “Eiko wants us to call him from the comm center. I’m not looking forward to seeing his angry face,” Walden admitted as he placed a hand on the hatch. “But first, I’m going to The Talon and download the intelligence packet then start a search program.”

  “Still forty-five minutes on the mission clock,” Diosa reported after checking her PID. “Start the search and we’ll go to breakfast before we make the call.”

  “The mission clock, as you call it, was a timeline assigning a deadline to locate me,” Walden reminded her. “I’m not sure it’s anything official.”

  He stepped onto the dock and Diosa followed. While the pilot stopped and worked on his PID, she gazed at their spaceship.

  A yacht’s upper hull rested on a sled in the adjacent bay. It appeared as if the lower half had sunk into the deck plates. But it wasn’t out of sight, it just wasn’t there. The lower deck of the spaceship had been removed. The new shape created a smaller profile for infiltration and reduced the weight of the spaceship allowing for near orbits of planets and moons with gravity. And while the shape had been altered, the original ion wall remained, making The Talon as quick and nimble as the full-sized model. Plus, the spaceship had docking bays for a gunship and a shuttle.

  “Are we going to stand here admiring her?” questioned Diosa while plucking the combat radio’s earbud from her ear and mic from her neck. “or are we going in?”

  “I engaged proximity sensors when we left,” Walden explained. “I’m running through the report to see if anyone approached her.”

  “And has anybody touched your baby?” Diosa inquired.

  A few seconds later, the pilot looked up and announced, “The Talon is clean. Not a smudge or a fingerprint.”

  He typed in a few commands on his PID and a section of the spaceship’s hull lifted. After entering another sequence, Talon One’s engine rattle to life and the shuttle rose above the dock.

  “Would you mind?” Walden inquired.

  “No problem,” Diosa replied.

  Following the dock, Diosa strolled around the nose of the shuttle. On the far side, the Marine reached out and gave the hull a hard shove. Talon One drifted to the opening in the bigger vessel. As it crossed over the dock where Walden stood, an arm extended from The Talon and attached itself to the rear of the shuttle. The arm retracted drawing the small shuttle into The Talon’s aft docking bay.

  “It always amazes me that even with our technology, sometimes we need human muscle to start a process,” Walden mused as the elevator descended and locked in place sealing the shuttle inside.

  “Which reminds me,” Diosa stated. “Human muscles require nourishment. I’m hung
ry so make it snappy. Breakfast awaits.”

  “Give me a minute to release the data miner,” Walden advised as he reached for the hatch. Then he glanced over his shoulder at his partner and offered. “I’m not sure if I can eat. Eiko is not going to be pleased with me.”

  “We are on the assignment. We have begun the investigation and you have your PID back,” Diosa listed as she looked down at her own PID. “And we are at thirty minutes on the mission clock.”

  “Your mission clock is still not a real thing,” Walden remarked as he entered The Talon.

  ***

  “Unrestricted Agent Alberich, you used voice communications to hold a discussion while on assignment,” scolded Special Agent Eiko. “You know the wideband for voice is not secure. If you needed information, Geboren could have messaged me and I would have sent an agent to speak with Frederick.”

  “First, as Walden has pointed out, we hadn’t started the mission,” Diosa shot back. “And there was a time issue. I couldn’t sit around waiting for someone to drive to the University and get answers. Besides, it would have been awkward to have the agency set up a date for me.”

  Eiko’s eyebrows compressed and his mouth transformed to a gash as he prepared to unleash on the retired Marine. But he needed her talents so he snapped his head to the side and looked angrily at Poet’s screen.

  “Geboren, this is all your fault,” Eiko began.

  Below the camera level, Warlock tapped her PID and held the device so only Poet could see it. They sat side by side in the comm center pod and each had a separate monitor displaying the same image of the Special Agent. Poet shifted his eyes to the PID and then back to Eiko.

  “If you hadn’t gone dark, you two would already be out there getting me answers,” Eiko finished.

  Walden changed the subject. “What did they find at the UGT complex?” he asked.

  Diosa’s PID still displayed the image of the compound when she gave her pilot a secretive thumb’s up.

  “Uno Security found just what you’d expect at a civilian research facility,” Eiko replied. “Lots of science and engineering but nothing subversive. And, before you ask. They combed the area around the old house. No bodies, blood trails, or signs of a camp. The whole thing was a bust.”

  “What about the transport?” inquired Diosa.

  “The airplane dropped off coastal radar when the pilot killed its ID transmitter,” admitted the Special Agent. “The counterfeit bills are gone. We do have Hervé 6th Chwilio in custody, but he’s not being helpful. He won’t even talk about his boss, Admiral Nesta 4th Deallus. Our interrogators want to know how you got him to speak so freely.”

  “Last will and testament,” responded Diosa. “He was surprised, confused, and assumed death was moments away. He wanted to set the record straight.”

  “Now he’s figured out we aren’t going to execute him,” Eiko added. “Enough of the retrospective. Our analysts suggest you start at Hydroxyl Station. It’s the last port of call for the Sorcha Innis. I’ve included a list of questions and people to interview in the packet.”

  “We haven’t had an opportunity to review the information,” Walden advised. “But we’ll have time on the trip.”

  “Do you need anything else from me?” Eiko asked.

  “No, sir,” Walden assured him.

  When Diosa didn’t reply, Eiko inquired, “Alberich. Did I miss anything?”

  On the screen, the Unrestricted Agent seemed to be distracted and lost in thought. Walden leaned over and nudged her arm.

  “Diosa. Do you want to answer the man?” her pilot inquired.

  There was a slight pause before she responded.

  “Eiko. Assign another agent to Hydroxyl Station,” Diosa instructed. “We’re approaching this from a different angle.”

  “But the analysts and field supervisors have laid out the logical progression for your investigation,” Eiko stated. “They believe…”

  Warlock reached out and snapped off the connection.

  “That was rude,” Walden observed. The static on the screen reflected off his face making him appear to shimmer. “Funny but, insolent.”

  “Poet. When a mission crashes and operators die, the bosses do three things,” explained Warlock. “They point fingers blaming each other. Run around organizing people to find someone who’s culpable. And they cover their butts.”

  “You don’t suspect Eiko of those things?” questioned Walden. “Do you?”

  “Not necessarily. However, the analysts and operation’s team that put together the original mission are the ones trying to manage our investigation,” Diosa suggested.

  “If I extend that to a logical, yet, devious conclusion,” ventured Walden. “They may have skewed the data to hide any flaws on their part. Hence, you don’t want them involved.”

  Warlock stood and placed her hand on the door of the pod. She peered over her shoulder at Poet.

  “You’ve got it, except for another possibility,” Diosa proposed. “One of them might be a spy.”

  ***

  Walden Geboren pushed with his feet and, with almost no break in his movements, the chair slid to another keyboard below a different screen. As his fingers flew over the new board, he slung selected segments of data from the new screen to the one on the right. Accumulating on the far right were conclusions and well-researched questions.

  “The Doric Pillar was ordered to monitor the progress of the Sorcha Innis,” Walden informed Warlock as he shifted to the last screen on the left. Above him, phrases, sentences, and paragraphs scrolled from top to bottom almost as fast as the eyes could see.

  “Was the Pillar aware of the mission?” Diosa wondered.

  “That’s where your suspicions came in handy. The data we have has been manipulated,” Walden acknowledged. “The reports hinted that Captain Taiki did know, or should have known, or was to be read in but wasn’t at the last second. It depends on which memo I read. By date stamp, I eliminated the cover-your-behind memos. My conclusion is he didn’t know.”

  “Eiko included the memos in the packet?” questioned Diosa.

  “No. I pulled a few backdoor plugs and sort of sucked them into the information,” Walden described.

  “If he knew, could Captain Taiki have done anything differently?” asked Diosa.

  “If he knew the importance of the mission, he could have,” Walden assured her. “Position the Doric Pillar closer to the blockade line and make his scans hotter. With those precautions, he might have identified the Constabulary warship before it launched the missiles. With a warning, the tramp steamer might have been able to change course. But the data we have has been scrubbed. I only have the warship’s location based on the last position of the Sorcha Innis.”

  “Start wrapping it up and disconnect,” ordered Diosa. “We’ve identified our first stop.”

  “The Doric Pillar?”

  “Yes. Before you shut down, send your web crawler on a search for Admiral Nesta 4th Deallus,” she instructed. “The other thing bothering me is Hervé 6th Chwilio’s silence. He must realize that he said too much.”

  “But you explained that to Eiko,” suggested Walden.

  “Consider this. He has already given us the name of his commanding officer,” Diosa said. “Why suddenly clam up about the fleet Admiral?”

  “Hervé made a mistake and now he wants to downplay Nesta’s importance,” guessed Walden. “I pulled some initial data but let me cast a wider net before we shove off. I’ll do a deeper dive while in route.”

  “You do that. I’m going to clean my weapons.”

  “Of course, you are.”

  ***

  The Talon shot out of the launch tube and Walden adjusted its heading. When the powers matched and the clocks got close, the pilot increased power to the external drive and the spaceship evolved. As a sign of Poet’s skills, the changeover went smoothly without a single snap.

  Enveloped in a field of yellow ions, the vessel left Orbital Station behind on the way to the
first turning point. While the route to the Tres and Dos transition zone involved a number of evolutions and course corrections, the first leg was the longest. This gave Walden time to search and sort the enormous amount of data he had downloaded onto the ship’s computer.

  Two days into the flight, Walden rubbed his forehead with one hand and tapped repeatedly on the console with the other. Both signaling the researcher wasn’t pleased with his progress.

  “Who did you register our flight plan with?” Diosa inquired as she stepped through the hatch. She held a tray with a sandwich, a bowl of soup, and a cup of iced tea. “You haven’t left the flight deck since we launched. I thought you might like real food and not another meal of energy bars.”

  “Clam chowder. Thick, rich, and creamy,” Walden purred as he took the trey and sniffed the steam coming off the bowl. “We didn’t stock much and I appreciate the gesture.”

  “Don’t get too gushy about my sharing,” Diosa cautioned. “I don’t eat shellfish.”

  “We’re registered with the Master of Transit network,” Walden told her as he ate a spoonful of chowder. “Even as subcontractors for the Navy, we’re restricted to the civilian route controllers. When we reach the blockade sector, we’ll apply to Naval Movement Command for permission to enter the fleet’s area of operation.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to go in as naval personnel?” Diosa questioned.

  “That would require orders and put us under the authority of the Doric Pillar’s executive officer,” Walden explained. “We are an inspection team for the company that manufactures the ship’s scanner and data banks. While it limits us to specific decks, the title gives us access to all of the stored records.”

  Diosa waited until her pilot/researcher had finished half the sandwich and scraped the bottom of the bowl before interrupting him.

  “When I came in, you looked as if a Sergeant had canceled your weekend pass,” Diosa commented.

  “I don’t understand the reference,” Walden admitted.