Star Chaser (Galactic Shield Book 2), page 3
I rubbed my neck, watched the stars and distant nebula, and relaxed. Not one member of my squad had asked for reassignment. They worked harder during their down time than most men and women did during an active investigation. Cates, who tried to convince everyone he was a preeminent slacker, and Kyn were constantly in the flight simulators, always plotting to challenge Nova to a virtual race through digital asteroid fields. Woods sparred with Fathers and Yolo and taught them dangerous hand-to-hand combat tricks.
Each of us pulled duty with Ocantus, our Ultar prisoner. This could mean sitting outside her improvised habitat or, for the truly brave, attempting conversation. None of us could hold out for more than a few minutes despite efforts to filter the air supply. We always spoke through glass or view screens, but her presence remained unnerving. Only Glaynia had a more pronounced effect.
I didn’t look forward to interviewing either of them. Self-doubt was a sneaky companion during the mid-stages of every mission. In this case, I again wondered if I shouldn’t have brought Cabs into the operation as a consultant. Maybe he could handle Ultar interactions better than humans.
The idea was seductive but flawed. All available information pointed one direction. A special pair of Avians was needed to make real progress with Ocantus or any other Ultar representative.
What were the artifacts Ocantus guarded? Why was every political power and criminal organization in the Andromeda galaxy after them? Could I trust Jensen, or the Director, or even Morales?
Sleep danced around the edge of my consciousness. I relaxed deeper into my chair and half dreamed, half imagined flying over Avian Prime. I remembered standing in the open side door of an assault ship, body hurting, armor malfunctioning, and soul aching at scenes of destruction that stretched across the surface of the planet.
What had gone wrong? All we had wanted was peace. Every Avian delegation had shown genuine desire for amiable negotiations. One day I had been sipping coffee with Boomer, Kalchev, and Saint. The next we were fighting for our lives, holding the line as Alliance of Planet forces retreated to temporary spaceports to evacuate with whatever we could carry.
It was all a terrible misunderstanding.
I hated everything about that statement because it had become the most common phrase in our language for months after the incident. Politicians repeated it in every speech. Men and women relied on the lame explanation during conversations that inevitably turned to the tragedy on Avian Prime.
Peace came, but nothing would ever be the same between our peoples. I needed to find a pair of Avians before traveling to their home planet. Minutes turned into hours. Sleep came as I plotted ways to turn the investigation over to Nova. She was more than capable of running the squad. I could supervise from the ship, with the cameras off.
Excuses came easier and easier. My presence on the Soft Touch would be vital if Jensen or anyone else attempted to interfere. Someone had to watch Ocantus, and we needed to be ready for Glaynia’s next demand. She was more powerful than Ocantus in ways I didn’t understand.
There was too much mystery surrounding the Ultar. What could possibly cause so much intrigue? I was a cop, not a spy. I made lists of contacts who could take over, agents with the background for this type of operation.
At the end of the day, I understood the truth even if I didn’t want to accept it. I had to carry this burden until I could turn it over to someone like Morales or maybe the APOP Director.
4
Cates manned the controls of the APOP Soft Touch. Kyn occupied the navigator/secondary pilot’s chair, calmly verifying the landing vector as a squadron of void fighters escorted us to our destination. Sergeant Nova supervised, though I suspected she wanted to be behind the controls if this was to be our last voyage on the ship that had become our home away from home. She eyed the small, heavily armed vessels, and I wondered if she knew the leader of the squadron, or even the pilots.
I had no desire to fly the ship. Nor was I thinking about her much, despite how excellent she’d been to my entire squad. A good ship with a good AI was priceless to a team like ours.
The combat fighters were attached to the APOP Justice, a civilian law enforcement starship. Few citizens of the Alliance of Planets approved of the combat fighters, but none could deny a paramilitary force was required to deal with pirates and other large-scale criminal organizations.
By the AP constitution, the police force was designed to remain independent of the military as insurance against a military coup. Democracy was a fragile thing. In reality, the organizations worked together often, mostly because a third of the APOP personnel had served in the APF and retained their connections with old friends. Often, we needed the military to rescue our anti-piracy task forces, especially in the remote corners of the AP. Criminals never played by the rules. Few had compunctions against using military-grade hardware, even against unarmed victims. We had to counter that.
The Alliance of Planets Fleet and my Breaker unit were in the past. I embraced my new life and the responsibilities that came with it. So while I was comfortable around all manner of military units, whether they were ground forces or space capable, the void fighters worried me.
No one would say so, but our policy violations bordered on illegal. We had stolen a prisoner from my superior officer and refused to bring him back despite numerous direct orders. Captain Jensen hadn’t announced we were under arrest, but that didn’t mean we weren’t. Rules were rules. Violating orders had consequences.
This meeting with Director Lively wasn’t destined to go well.
The APOP Justice was a massive carrier capable of unsupported missions in deep space. She had a support fleet with fully staffed crews on all ships. Conspiracy theorists claimed she also had secret colony ships hidden away and could carry humanity to a new galaxy if things went wrong in Andromeda.
I had found no evidence for or against the rumor and thought it was above my pay grade either way.
The only starship fleet more powerful than what Lively controlled was the APF Jupiter’s Wrath, the flagship battle group of the APF under the leadership of Admiral Chan.
“Are you okay, Breaker?” Nova asked. She consistently used my nickname, just as the rest of my squad did now. Rarely did they address me by my given name and rank.
“I’m fantastic.” Nothing good would come of sharing my concern now, not without actionable intelligence about a remedy to our situation.
She nodded, but I could feel her heightened attention. The rest of the squad were less obvious, yet I knew they were looking to me for cues. When the void debris hit the transit engines, they would adapt and even anticipate my most complex solutions. I couldn’t ask for a better team.
“We’re ready to dock with the Justice,” Cates announced.
“Go for it,” I said and gave him a thumbs-up.
Kyn sat ready to assist. Nova was close at hand to take over if necessary. Docking with a starship didn’t feel dangerous, but everything in the void could kill us. Attention to detail saved lives. Overconfidence was like a rail bolt to the face.
“Control to Soft Touch,” said a voice through our ship comms. “Nice work. You are docked and good to disembark. Welcome to the APOP Justice.”
“Roger that,” Cates said. “We’re glad to be here.”
Everyone stared at our lead pilot once the interaction was complete.
“What?” he demanded. “I didn’t want to be rude.”
“The Justice is an excellent destroyer. She has all the amenities,” I said.
“Probably a very clean brig,” Yolo added from the back of the room.
“Stow that talk, Agent Bozzelli,” Nova said, then faced me before Yolo could respond. “Who do you want as your escort? You’re a decorated APOP lieutenant. It won’t look good to have you carrying your own work screen.”
“Thanks, Sergeant Nova, but I will handle this one solo. None of you were called before the Director.”
“Not by name, but I would argue the order to report went for the entire squad.” Fathers looked to each of his friends. “That makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“One hundred percent,” Woods agreed. Others murmured and nodded.
“I am adept at carrying a work screen,” Kyn stated with characteristic dignity. “Very appropriate due to my status as the second newest member of the team.”
“Fathers has a good point,” Yolo said before I could get a word in edgewise. “Nothing in the order called you by name, sir. He must want the entire squad. Maybe they need updates on all our cases.”
More sounds of agreement circulated the room. Nova watched my reaction. Her hard expression wasn’t easy to endure, even for me. This was a woman who would punch me in the face if she thought it was for my own good.
I nearly relented. How could I deny my team? Loyalty like this didn’t come often. How did I deserve it?
A minute passed. Silence returned. I focused on my second-in-command. “Sergeant Nova, give me your no BS assessment of how I should handle this insurrection. What should a unit commander do?”
She clenched her teeth, but then relaxed enough to answer. “A leader should lead.”
I stood, faced the room, and spoke. “I will travel independently to the Director’s ready room. We can stand together at our termination hearing if it comes to that and whistle Void Star Save the AP. Until then, I intend to convince my boss and my boss’s boss’s boss that none of us are worried. We are well within regulations when exigent circumstances are considered.”
No one spoke.
“I appreciate your support,” I said, almost adding the word loyalty but holding back at the last second. Saying it aloud would be the same as pressuring them. I couldn’t do that in good conscience. This level of dedication had to be freely given.
“Agent Fathers and Agent Woods will accompany the lieutenant to the edge of the landing bay, then fall back to the Soft Touch for further assignments,” Nova said.
I left her to run the squad and strode away to face the repercussions of my actions. Several things were bound to happen. I would be censured and written up. Restrictions would be placed on my entire squad, and I would enter a reckoning period for one to three standard years. Worst of all, though I wasn’t completely sure why it mattered, they would take Ocantus from the Soft Touch and detain her elsewhere—provided they didn’t immediately repatriate her to an Ultar embassy.
Fathers and Woods flanked me to the first security checkpoint, then saluted.
“Good luck, sir,” Fathers said.
“Say the word, and we’ll come and get you,” Woods added, her eyes full of dangerous sincerity.
I should have stomped on her enthusiasm. I prayed to whatever entity truly pulled the universe apart that no one heard her. She would be locked up faster than I would for talking like that.
One look at Fathers told me they had discussed this option at length, and he was down for it as well. We’d been through hairy situations before this, but there was no way in void hell they could break me out of this ship’s brig.
“Stay safe. Keep your head on a swivel. Look after Sergeant Nova and do what she says,” I ordered. “I’ll be back before either of you can squeeze in a workout or take a nap.”
They saluted again. I returned the gesture and began my trek through the titanic warship. Guards checked my APOP shield and waved me through. I knew the way. There was no need to ask for directions. I’d grown up on APF warships and could navigate deck by deck in my sleep.
Hallways on this level were wide enough for ground vehicles, up to heavy armor with nuclear generators and the ability to alternate between giant rubber wheels and tracks as needed. Four sets of rails ran down the middle of the centrally located corridor. Heavy freight, war machines, and troop transports could move as fast as necessary. No one lingered on the rails if they wanted to remain alive.
I pushed back memories of Breaker squads running up and down this section of various warships. As the largest passage on any carrier, it was often the best place to practice both sprints and endurance drills. The floor could handle the abuse of twenty or thirty Breakers slamming their feet down over and over again.
Here in the present, platoons of regular infantry marched double time, probably to nowhere but a turnaround point. The men and women of these units were notorious for causing trouble when not kept busy. They trained nearly as much as Breakers and combat pilots.
The military feel of the place soothed my worries. It wouldn’t be long before I knew if coming alone had been the right decision. In my gut, I knew it was the best way to save the careers of Sergeant Nova and the others.
What I didn’t know was whether any of our careers mattered. The Ultar question bothered me more than ever. Jacob Morales and Jonas Bayle were constantly at odds over how to handle the quarantine of the Ultar sector that had been in effect since the First Transit fleet arrived in the Andromeda galaxy and began to explore.
Engineers repaired and improved bulkheads. Cleaning squads worked constantly causing me to think of the Ship O’ Wash barge I’d seen orbiting Earthdale before this odyssey began. If I’d known what I knew now, I would have asked Morales for help earlier.
But I wouldn’t have turned away from the responsibility of what was becoming the most important investigation of my career. Trace Block was in custody at last, but that wasn’t even close to the end of this. Something about Glaynia’s inference to her husband’s incarceration made me think it wouldn’t last, or that it didn’t matter.
As for their marital status, I wrote that off as rumor and tried not to think of it too much. What kind of man could love an Ultar? The idea exceeded my imagination. I gladly let that part of this mystery go. Some things were better left unknown.
I passed bulkhead forty-nine after traveling on foot from twenty-seven near the landing bay we’d been assigned. Forty-five through forty-nine were reserved for training missions. Men and women were busy here.
The command deck was just beyond bulkhead number fifty. The same number of sections, forty-nine, radiated fore and aft, with nine to the port and starboard sides of the carrier.
I had arrived at the heart of the Alliance of Planets Outworld Police organization. Twenty meters separated me from the end of my career and possible criminal charges.
“Why the hell did I let Jensen talk me into this,” I said, fully aware that there hadn’t been an aspect of negotiation. He was my supervisor, my commanding officer, and presenting myself to the Director had been an order no matter how politely phrased.
“Wrath,” said a familiar voice that pulled me from my brooding.
I turned to see Morales striding toward me. A squad of armored bodyguards flanked him. The rest of their platoon followed, also armored and armed to the teeth—which was unheard of this far into an APOP flagship, or any flagship for that matter. Only ship security had the right to equip themselves to this magnitude.
I shook Morales’s hand. “Good to see you, General.”
“Attorney General, Breaker. The past is the past,” he said. “Though sometimes it is good to remind people.”
“You’re rolling heavy today,” I said.
He shrugged. “I like to show off.” His laugh was contagious. Before I knew it, my troubles seemed trifling, and I laughed like we had in the old days.
“I’m glad to see you before my career ends,” I joked.
“No more talking like that,” he said. “I told you I would protect your career and those of your agents as best I could. This has used up a fair portion of the favors I’ve accumulated over the years, so listen carefully. We don’t have much time to talk.”
He waved back his escort. We strolled the perimeter of this section, buying time before I had to pass through bulkhead number fifty.
5
“Manufacturing a reason to be here wasn’t easy,” Morales said. “You can add that to the countless debts you owe me at this point.”
He checked his six, noted the exact position of his bodyguards, and relaxed his pace. “We have a lot to talk about, Breaker, starting with why you don’t hide better. What part of lay low didn’t you understand?”
“Running an investigation and disappearing are mutually exclusive activities—most of the time,” I said. “I’m no spy. None of my training prepared me for this level of espionage within our own territory.”
“Espionage, huh? That is what it feels like.” He walked a few steps in silence.
“Hiding from the APOP’s finest isn’t easy,” I said.
“You are the APOP’s finest.” He grunted. “At least tell me you still have the Breaker rigs I gave you. Those things cost more than money. I had to call in too many favors to pull them out of mothballs, and more to deliver them.”
A ship security supervisor and two guards approached. Morales signaled for his bodyguards to remain where they were as he handled this development. “How can I help you?”
“Sir, we are directed to deliver Lieutenant Benjamin Wrath to the director’s ready room,” the security supervisor said.
“Of course,” Morales responded. “I’ll only need a moment with an old friend. Just a few minutes to catch up and be sure he’s staying out of trouble. I’ll hand him over to you, Michael, don’t worry about a thing.”
“Of course, sir. Please remain within visual range. I can’t let him out of my sight,” Michael said.
“No worries.” Morales smiled, then gave the man a thumbs-up. “I’m all about following rules. Though I do tend to make my own, don’t I?
“You do, sir,” Michael said. “I appreciate your understanding of my rather delicate situation.”
“Perfectly.” Morales waited until the security team retreated and we were once again surrounded by the relative privacy of deck space.
“There were a lot of ships coming for Trace,” I said. “Senate Security among them. I didn’t know they had that kind of jurisdiction.”
