Star Chaser (Galactic Shield Book 2), page 4
“They don’t,” he replied. “I’m sure you also noticed the corporate mercenaries and pirates besides what Trace commanded. Make no mistake, Breaker, they weren’t just there for Trace and his stolen Helm ship, or his Ultar wife. That’s right, I heard that rumor as well. They were also there for Ocantus and the artifacts she protects. Follow that a bit farther and you can guess anyone stealing her would also latch onto you and your squad, for interrogation purposes if nothing else.”
“What other reason would they have to capture my people?” I asked the question before I thought about it because the idea stunned me.
“Torture, murder,” he said. “Nothing good, that’s for certain.”
“Am I out in the cold?”
“You are,” he replied.
“Will you help me anyway?” I asked, unsure what to expect.
“Don’t confuse me with a miracle worker,” he said, then looked around. “And don’t rely on me more than you must. I am everyone’s friend. Do you know what that means?”
Lights dimmed. The void closed in. I wanted to punch him in the face for being right. His words were a fair warning. I couldn’t criticize him for that.
“Everyone’s friend is no one’s friend when the void calls us home,” I said.
Morales had the decency not to dwell on the point. “I took the same oath you did. For now, I think we want the same things—peace, justice for every sentient, and the chance to retire someday. To do that, we must put the galaxy in order and find men and women we trust to lead us into the future.”
“I still have Ocantus,” I said, testing the waters.
“Does she retain the artifacts?” he asked. “Has she communicated their purpose?”
“None of us can handle her presence for long, not even from a sealed room,” I said.
He gave me a curious look.
“My first face-to-face encounter with an Ultar went poorly. He released spores, or some manner of gas, into the air that spiked my adrenaline. It was like a cloud of fear,” I said.
“A male Ultar? Are you sure?”
“He shouted his name. Candar. Am I sure of his gender?” I considered sharing how Glaynia had climbed out of her living but non-sentient mech, then discarded the idea. If he brought it up, maybe I would talk about what I’d learned. “Who knows? It sounded like a man and his name was probably a male name.”
“But you don’t know more of their culture than the rest of us,” he said. “I will tell you this. It probably wasn’t a male. Only females have been sighted for the last fifty years. A change to that pattern is probably not good news, especially if they are carrying weapons capable of cutting their way out of a space station.”
My mentor was holding back. He knew more about my Ultar encounter on Perseus Station than he initially implied. Of course he had watched all the video evidence of the raid on the Benedict complex. Jensen was an unpleasant supervisor, not an idiot. He would have shared what he discovered with Morales. So would a dozen other sources I probably didn’t know. There was a reason my mentor had such influence in the AP.
“Give me something,” he said.
I mentally sorted my options. “Trace has been stealing pairs of Avians, not murdering them unless something goes wrong.”
He waved one hand impatiently. “Already knew that.”
I stifled my annoyance that he hadn’t shared the information with me before now. There were reasons he would make me find my own answers. Some of them were even good reasons. That didn’t make it less frustrating.
“He does have a relationship with an Ultar woman,” I said, wondering if he’d accessed videos that revealed everything I was holding back. Memories of the Ultar conveyance splitting open to allow Glaynia’s exit soaked up my mental bandwidth for several seconds. I shuddered. “He wasn’t acting like the alpha male crime lord I’ve been chasing for years.”
“I’ll make a note that his relationship with the Ultar has been confirmed,” he said. “Did you talk to her?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me about it,” he ordered.
“I couldn’t concentrate.”
Obviously impatient, he snorted. “They’re terrifying. Fine. Keep talking.”
I had to give him something but wasn’t sure what was important to hold back and what was the best information to barter with. “She demanded two Avian negotiators.”
He leaned back and took several seconds to consider my words. “That confirms two points of intel. If Avians really can talk to the Ultar, then we’ll need our own pair. Expect Director Lively to send you to find some.”
“Are you sure my squad is the best for that mission?” I asked. “We would need upgrades to the Soft Touch and a tactical team. I won’t be able to call for backup, so I need a full-time quick reaction force.”
“What else?” he asked.
“Saint may be involved,” I said.
“He’s a drug addict. Don’t ruin your career trying to help him like Kalchev did,” Morales said. “Forget about Henry Saint. Even if he was onto something, he’s damaged goods now—nothing but a liability, and that’s on a good day. I have other people looking for him. Experts on that kind of thing.”
I waited. This interview was over. I just had to keep my mouth shut and wait for Director Lively to summon me.
“Okay,” he said. “That’s all we have time for. Answer the director’s questions. Don’t play games. Expect him to send you after a pair of Avians. Can you do that?”
“With the resources you promised, sure,” I answered.
“I haven’t promised anything.” He checked his wrist screen. “Where would you start your search?”
“The nearest world with an Avian population,” I said, holding back what I knew would be necessary. Cabs had already told me I needed to go to Avian Prime to find a couple willing to help us, but that didn’t mean I wanted to go there or that I wanted my boss’s boss’s boss to order me in that direction.
Morales, the strongest, most confident individual I’d ever known, shifted foot to foot as he read from his wrist screen. The man was nervous and distracted. “You’ve been summoned. I’ll escort you inside, but I won’t be allowed to stay. Director Lively and I have history. Now isn’t the right time to mend fences.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I said, then stepped away from him and into the Justice security team’s custody. “Gentlemen.”
“Right this way, Lieutenant,” the supervisor said without a glance at Morales. He waved me through the final portal and followed with two of his guards.
A curving barrier of Helm glass surrounded the command deck. Dozens of officers and their NCOs worked without a care for my existence. Director Lively stood on a raised dais near the center, and he saw me immediately. He had one bodyguard close at hand, but I knew the man and wasn’t about to test his willingness or ability to cause me extreme harm.
While the director’s security element was unusually small, his staff officers were numerous and busy. I also saw a half dozen other men and women I didn’t recognize. They looked like a serious group. Some were obviously veterans, others were corporate. All of them wore military style field outfits more like the ones Jonas Bayle and his cronies found fashionable.
I looked back for Morales and saw that he’d been detained near the door, just as he had warned might happen. We shared one last look before the security doors slid together.
Director Lively beckoned me forward. I advanced, came to attention, and saluted. He returned the gesture lazily. Neither of us were in the APF now.
“You took your time,” he accused. The man was tall, skeletal, and formally dressed. His perfectly groomed beard was a failed attempt to disguise his weak chin. Hair refused to grow on his pate and was scraggly despite being cropped short. Sunken, dark-ringed eyes completed the picture. I noticed his teeth were off white, almost yellow. His appearance was, in a word, unfortunate.
There was nothing I could say without attempting to blame someone else—which was bad form even when true. We had an audience. Every gesture, every word mattered from now until I left. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be under the close supervision of two AP guards with orders to deliver me to the Justice’s brig.
“No matter,” he said after several seconds passed. “You’re here now and prepared to answer all questions to the best of your ability.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“You scored high marks in the academy, but also during every direct test of your skills or your knowledge base. We won’t go into your judgment and behavior censures.” He surveyed the other men and women who far exceeded my rank. In the background, deck officers went about their duties to the efficient running of the ship. “I expect better from you, Lieutenant.”
I waited for more, but he gave no indication he intended to elaborate. Three men and two women near him began to fidget and I understood I wasn’t the only person on trial. The director was testing his subordinates every bit as intensely as he was testing me.
My breathing leveled. I saw more of the room and took my time cataloging the details. The APOP Justice wasn’t merely well-staffed, it was overstaffed. Most of the officers were mentoring one or more junior officers. Everyone but the director appeared well-rested, as though none had pulled a double shift for a long time.
I smiled despite myself.
Director Lively spread his fingers and folded his hands across his chest. He leaned back in his command chair, just enough to accentuate his disdain of the spineless brown-nosers encircling him like vultures.
Once, long ago, I’d stood before a woman far more powerful than this man. APF Specialist Katrina Snow, my Breaker combat technician, had remained at my side to face Admiral Eliz-Konner—God rest her soul. We’d both been censured for extending a mission beyond the operational plan. On another occasion, we’d stood to receive honors for our defense of the APF Longreach—but that was another story.
“You see, ladies and gentlemen, there is a man who knows how to face the music,” Director Lively said.
“I am a bit tone deaf, sir,” I lied. “That helps.”
“Indeed it does.” He closed a screen that had been open on the armrest of his command chair.
I waited for him to censure me for my seizure of Ocantus and then order my squad to turn her over to an Ultar embassy or his staff. Long ago I had learned the most important rule for encounters with my superior officers—don’t volunteer anything. Wait for them to ask questions, then answer without elaboration.
“I have a memo that claims you are very interested in Avians,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Please elaborate.”
Crap. “My team recently concluded the investigation of a triple murder. We secured an arrest, and the suspect has been detained without bond pending a jury trial,” I said.
He waved for me to skip ahead.
“During the course of our investigation, we learned of a disturbing trend.” I hesitated.
He raised one eyebrow.
“Avians are being abducted and/or murdered in pairs,” I said.
“That’s it?” he asked. “There is no other reason? Weren’t you part of the Avian misunderstanding?”
“I was,” I said. “Everyone received counseling afterward. We were promised memories would fade and that time would mute emotions.”
“That wasn’t true?”
I shook my head.
He nodded. “You’re honest. Everyone of your supervisors claimed as much in your fitness reports.”
“You were there?” I asked, acting on a hunch.
“I was.”
The spectators shifted nervously. More than a few were searching for something appropriate to say. I hoped they didn’t try. This interview wasn’t going as expected, and the last thing I needed was further complications.
“You disappoint me,” he said. “I read your file last year and assumed you would test for promotion.”
“There wouldn’t be much point, sir. I have several official censures, a full suspension, and a robust description of my bad attitude in my file.”
He lashed me with a disappointed, disgusted look I’d never seen before. My heart raced. I wanted to leave. This was like being an awkward teenager standing in the principal’s office.
Right when I was transitioning from embarrassment to anger, he hit me with a new look. “Use your head, Lieutenant Wrath.”
Potential responses rolled through my brain. I was on the verge of explaining Ocantus, then diverted into safer territory. There was a reason he hadn’t brought up my most heinous offense. I didn’t know why he was avoiding it, but I understood, at the last possible instant, it was a topic he didn’t want discussed in this venue.
“My squad worked for over a year to build the case on Tracey “Trace” Block,” I said instead. “Two of my agents were badly injured during one of the warrants.”
Director Lively snorted as though disappointed in my answer, but I knew I’d made the right move. “Don’t try to hide behind the adequate work of your team.” He faced his immediate subordinates and advisors. “Give me a moment with Wrath. I will catch up in the law library. We can discuss the case law that came down through the courts last week.”
His people dispersed.
“I don’t appreciate your close association with Jacob Morales,” he said the moment we were alone. “Avoid him in the future. He is not your boss.”
I said nothing.
He knew better than to push, even though he would win the confrontation. The subject had been laid out, and I made a note to let the matter cool for a while.
“Do not surrender Ocantus to anyone without my direct authorization,” he said.
“Understood sir.” I paused to be sure none of the deck crew were close enough to eavesdrop, though that was Director Lively’s problem, not mine. “This isn’t where I thought this conversation was going.”
“Never make assumptions when talking to me,” he said. “For example, you might think you are off my shit list. You’re not.”
“Understood.”
“You do understand, don’t you?” He thought about something for a moment. “If I had time to reeducate you, maybe we might be compatible. You could rise high. As things stand, I fear you are a one-time tool. Continue your search for Avians who can talk to the Ultar.”
I concealed my surprise.
“Nice try keeping everything to yourself, Wrath. That kicked you in the balls, didn’t it? You thought I wouldn’t know exactly what you’re up to?” He adjusted his sitting position and pushed out one hand to keep me from talking. “Don’t worry. Don’t think too much. Do what I tell you, and you’ll be fine. Until you aren’t fine. Right now, your ability to tolerate an Ultar on your ship and your willingness to speak with Avians despite your service in the Avian Prime misunderstanding makes you valuable. After that, I’ll attempt to find you a job you can’t screw up. Fail me, and there will be hell to pay.”
I stood at attention. “Yes, sir.”
“Insolent bastard. Do you think I like that? What’s next, a military salute?” He sneered in the direction of his subordinates and advisors who hadn’t gone as far as he intended, apparently. “Bring back two Avians who can liaise with Ultar. They will be placed in our witness protection program and kept safe from several other factions who would misuse them. You will be assigned a new team member. This is not optional. Don’t even try to dodge the appointment. If you go to Morales on this one, you will one hundred percent regret the decision. Trust me.”
“Yes, sir.” I stood firmly and tried not to think, because that would lead to talking. Several facts clicked into place. Director Lively wanted his own Avians before Morales found a pair to work for him. It seemed both Lively and Morales knew what Glaynia wanted, which suggested they’d had other teams who encountered Ultar.
Nothing about this interview made me happy.
“Look on the bright side, Wrath,” Lively said. “You still have your job.”
“Thank you, sir.” I practically held my breath.
“Dismissed.”
I saluted and left immediately.
6
I barely remembered passing through section forty-nine or forty-eight. The APOP Justice crew worked as diligently as ever. I saw them moving about, talking, joking, and getting things done, but I didn’t hear them clearly. Sounds were both muted and fluid as though I were walking on the bottom of an ocean. My nerves tingled, and I couldn’t tell if it was apprehension or relief that was causing the unusual effect.
Nothing had changed. I was still looking for a pair of Avians who could negotiate with the Ultar. I didn’t know why this was important other than the general idea that there could be a war on the horizon.
For old soldiers like me, that was always a concern. I’d been conditioned to see the potential for large-scale, organized violence in every political situation. Memories of Trace’s pirates, senate security, APOP task forces, and corporate mercenaries chasing my team through the void to steal Ocantus and her strange artifacts wouldn’t be quieted.
This was far beyond my original mandate. In the matter of criminal cases involving sentients, I had broad powers and nearly unlimited jurisdiction—especially if the investigations involved serious acts of violence, kidnapping, or trafficking.
On impulse, I stopped for coffee and chatted mindlessly for several minutes with other patrons standing in line. The steaming black fluid was free. All human endeavors seemed powered by the stuff. Before long, I was moving at a more leisurely pace with a comforting cup of caffeinated water in one hand.
Coffee made everything better.
More people smiled when I passed. We exchanged pleasantries. Life was good. I decided not to think about the wreck my life had become until I reached the APOP Soft Touch.
“Breaker one-o-five,” said Antoni Kalchev from behind me.
I turned to see him stepping out of a video bar where he’d been doing nearly the same thing I had just indulged in—avoiding responsibility, clearing his head, and maybe altering the course of his destiny in subtle ways.
