Chapter 20

 

Calvin stewed quietly, tapping his fingers against his desk over and over. He thought about turning on some music but decided it'd be too distracting. Instead, he sat there in silence, head buzzing while he debated what to do.

The ship was heading toward Abia; he felt good about that decision. It, something, was in Abia. And he wanted to know what it was before it left, whatever the consequences were.

Raidan had made it clear as crystal that he wanted Calvin to go there, for whatever reason. Probably to see something important. And Calvin wasn't about to let that opportunity slip through his fingers because Summers wanted to keep hounding the Harbinger. Especially since, if he caught up to it, he'd have to invent some new excuse for why he refused to attack it again. Since the obvious one didn't seem to be working—that it was tactically insane.

Summers was wrong. Everyone was wrong! Raidan wasn’t a lunatic trying to start a war, and he wasn’t a pawn in some corporate game either, he was part of something much larger. Why else was the Fleet behaving so strangely? And why else would Princess Kalila act so threatened?

Perhaps princess Kalila was representing her own interests and not the Royal Family's. If a war broke out, or some kind of instability shook the Empire, it might mean an opportunity to grab for power—outmaneuver her other siblings and destabilize her father's control of the monarchy.

He knew less about Kalila than he would have liked. He’d heard of her charity work and bits and pieces about her here and there, from news and tabloids, but he'd never given her, or her family, much thought. They were above and beyond him and not worth thinking about. Or so he'd assumed. And now he wished he knew more about her, to better judge her motives and character.

Calvin frowned. It was hard to pinpoint just what he believed. The best he could do was continue collecting information. And the best way to do that was to go to Abia. He knew that was what he had to do.

But he had to sell that idea to Intel Wing. If they wanted him to do a good job with his investigation, they would be supportive. But if they were only interested in containing Raidan, and preventing the truth from coming out, then it would mean they’d been compromised too. That some third influence had its hooks in both intelligence and the navy and that influence, whatever it was, would see Calvin’s choice to go to Abia as a direct threat.

He decided that, since Summers had forced his hand, it was time to test the Fleet and Intel Wing to see just how far the corruption went.

So he recorded his message.

In it he explained his reasons for going to Abia. He couldn't tell them about his meeting with Kalila. And he couldn't tell them why he'd chosen not to fire on the Harbinger. Or that he'd stolen data from Brimm that implicated Abia. All he could say was that he'd cracked a code that discussed Abia, and that he thought it likely Raidan would be there. That his apparent jump to Zendricun Alpha was merely a ruse.

Being as limited as he was, unable to fully explain his reasoning, his argument sounded weak. And he knew it. But he did the best he could. Appealing to his direct superiors and emphasizing, again and again, that this was definitely the right move for the investigation; he was certain. More certain than in previous investigations from which he'd earned silver stars. If they were objective, and had not been compromised, they would understand his message for what it was.

But if they had been compromised, they would hear it as: I'm not working for you anymore. I've gone rogue.

How they reacted would tell him a great deal. If they came down hard, he'd know he was on his own.

 

***

 

Summers typed her report into the command panel of the access station on the aft side of the bridge. She could have broadcast it by voice but she didn't want the other bridge officers to overhear. All three of them: Sarah Winters, Iwate Shen, and Miles Brown—especially Miles Brown, were sympathetic to Calvin and didn't have any perspective on what was really going on. Serving together as long as they had, Summers couldn't expect any of them to look at Calvin objectively. A sad, predictable fact that helped explain the sorry state of the Nighthawk's command chain. And because of it, she didn’t want them to hear what she had to say about their beloved Calvin.

Calvin lacked the ability to truly command a ship. He'd proven that when he'd melted under pressure and, in his frozen state, couldn't think fast enough to act against the Harbinger. How they all survived was an unexplained miracle, perhaps the act of a merciful god. Who could know? Summers wasn't going to speculate. Since the Harbinger hadn't destroyed them, she felt they'd been given a second chance to redeem themselves and prove their loyalty to the Empire by ending RaidanSometimes she felt like she was the only one on the ship who kept the wheels moving forward. She knew people acted differently around her, almost like she were the only real officer and the rest were tourists on some kind of government sponsored joy-ride through the galaxy. In her mind she couldn't suppress the image that, should she disappear for any amount of time, mojitos and flowershirts would spring out of nowhere to the beats of lively party music. Didn't these people go through training?

Despite following orders to the letter her entire career, here she was in this mess. It drove her insane, and that feeling came across in her report.

Her tone was still formal and proper, but it carried a knife-like edge, and she made her case strongly, clearly, and articulately for why Calvin was unfit for command and not following the mission. Emphasizing that he'd broken orders and refused to engage the Harbinger, which had flown right past them. And how, instead of following the trail to Zendricun Alpha, he was diverting them to Abia for no good reason. She ended on the suspicion that he was abusing a substance, probably alcohol, and it was affecting his judgment. Putting the crew in danger.

She sent the message with standard encryption and returned to the command position where she sat and took a deep breath. She had mixed feelings about her message. Partially she regretted sounding so negative—she didn't hate everything about Calvin. But an even deeper part of her remembered Raidan and how he'd manipulated her. Used her and set her aside. And now, if she let Raidan get away—which Calvin seemed more than content to do, then even more people would die. Whatever else Raidan was, he was a killer.

Yes, Calvin, Raidan does want us to go to Abia. But not because he's there. And when we arrive in the middle of nowhere and dig for clues that don't exist, Raidan will be torching Rotham ships and murdering civilians. And all because you, Calvin, are so easy for him to manipulate. Just like I once was. You just don't know Raidan like I do. He's playing games with us and you're taking the bait.

 

***

 

It wasn't more than ten minutes after he'd sent his report that Calvin received the very message he feared most from Intel Wing.

"You are ordered to change course and make port at CC-Platform B in the Xerxes system immediately." The Director's face looked strangely blank over Calvin's viewer as he spoke.

Calvin's heart sank and he was almost speechless. He'd half expected this reaction, but the other half of him, the better half, tried to deny it was even possible. He loved the Empire and now, to one degree or another, he was sure it had been corrupted. Infiltrated. Compromised.

He snapped back to attention and tried to play his part, feeling sick and more like an actor than a person. "What for?" he asked, feigning surprise.

"You'll be briefed there. See you soon," the Director faked a smile and terminated the call before Calvin could say another word.

Of course, he knew what it really meant. He was now a liability instead of an asset. They were going to take him out of the picture. Dump him off on Xerxes, the closest system with an Intel Wing presence, and then transfer command of the Nighthawk to someone more dependable. Maybe they'd even take the ship offline while they washed through the crew and sorted out who was reliable and who wasn't. He wondered if another Intel Wing ship had already been given the Harbinger assignment. For all he knew, more than one ship had been tailing it the whole time.

"So they want me to go to Xerxes with my hands in the air and tail between my legs," he said. Of course, he'd made up his mind years ago that if he ever were in a situation like this, and knew he was about to get burned and lose everything, he wasn't going down without a fight.

He figured he had a few minutes to decide his next move, since Xerxes and Abia were in the same direction. But once his ship didn't make the course correction toward Xerxes in about an hour, they'd know he'd gone rogue and would do everything they could to stop him.

So his first move came right out of the basic playbook for war. Disrupt communications. He stood up and ran out of his office onto the bridge.

Summers looked surprised to see him, or at least surprised he was moving that fast. He didn't care though. If he did this right, she wouldn't be a threat anymore, but he had to get her off the bridge first. He waved her out of his seat and took the command position.

"Summers, I need you to go below decks and check in with engineering."

"All right," she said. "But why don't I use your comm switch to call them?" She seemed tense.

"Because I need you to pick something up for me," he lied. She seemed to catch onto this. Ordering the XO to run and fetch something wasn't going to fool anyone. Everyone knew it was an excuse to get her off the bridge.

"Why not have someone who's already there bring it up?" she asked, folding her arms.

"Because it has sensitive information that I can't trust with just anyone," said Calvin. Summers raised a curious eyebrow. Calvin had no idea what this object was going to be.

"What is it?" she asked. "I need to know what it is if I'm going to get it."

"Just ask Andre, the Chief Engineer. He'll tell you."

"All... right," she said cautiously. "I'm on my way." She stepped into the elevator and it whisked her away below deck.

"Good lord, I thought she'd never leave," said Miles.

"What's up, Calvin?" asked Sarah.

"We may be getting some unfriendly messages in the near future. I don't want to hear them," said Calvin. "Until I say otherwise we're going to have complete radio and kataspace silence. Comms between decks will stay online but no contact outside the ship will be allowed.

Sarah tapped her nose. "All right, I think I can handle that."

"And just in case," said Calvin as his heart started beating faster, "Shen, help me lock it out with our command codes."

"Yes sir," said Shen and he opened the systems' command prompt while Sarah began shutting things down. Together, Calvin and Shen used their respective codes as CO and senior officer of Operations to jointly lockout the kataspace connector so it couldn't be reactivated without the use of an equal or higher set of command codes, which Summers didn't have.

"That ought to do it," said Calvin. "Continue flying toward Abia and act like business as usual." He tapped the comm to engineering.

"Andre here."

"It's Calvin. You're going to see the XO in there very soon. She'll ask you for something to bring back to the bridge. Give her some random datadisc."

"Will do. May I ask why?"

"Need to know basis, sorry friend," said Calvin.

"All right," said Andre. He started to speak again but one of his junior officers interrupted him. A moment later his voice returned. "The kataspace connector linkups and receiving beacons have been switched off?"

"That's correct," said Calvin. "As a matter of security."

"Let me guess," said Andre. "Need to know basis again?"

"That's right." He didn't want to keep Andre in the dark; he was someone Calvin trusted. But he didn't want to explain the situation over the comm into a room he couldn't see, where anyone could be listening. "Meet me in my office a bit later, Chief. When you have things nailed down over there. We have some things to discuss."

"Will do."

Calvin's next call was to Special Forces. But before he could call them, they called him.

The Major didn't sound angry, or rather, not angrier than usual, but there was a kind of alertness in his voice. Clearly shutting down all outside communications was a pretty big deal and, as chief of security and direct CO of a third of the people on the ship, he expected to be in on the decision to do it. The trouble was, unlike most of the ship's crew, the Major and his soldiers were not people Calvin knew well enough to trust with the details. He'd have to invent something.

"Why are you shutting down all outside communications, Mister Cross?" His deep voice came across as grittier and more gravely than usual.

"Well hello to you too," said Calvin, taking a moment to solidify the story he’d prepared for the Major.

"I'm waiting," said the Major. When Calvin didn't reply right away he added, "for an answer."

Calvin’s story relied on the most clichéd of excuses—‘it’s a security threat’—and that was especially dangerous since security was the Major's expertise. But nothing else seemed to make sense. He decided to invent a kind of security risk the Major—and Summers—would never have heard of before, because it didn't exist.

"There are several small prototype... feeler probes," said Calvin, coughing to buy himself a few more seconds to iron out his exact phrasing. "As I said, feeler probes that Raidan and his contacts have deployed in order to protect themselves. They send our ship false messages and when the false messages are repeated back to them, they can covertly determine our position so the Harbinger can out-maneuver us indefinitely..."

He paused. "... but, if we isolate all the comm systems and lock them out, that tactic won't work. And instead it'll give Raidan a false sense of security."

Calvin waited, wondering if the Major would buy it. He didn't know how convincing he sounded over the comm line, but he was satisfied that his story was the best he could come up with in so little time. He couldn't help but notice Shen roll his eyes and crack a smile.

"All right," said the Major. "So why haven't we been doing this before now?"

"Because we didn't know about it until now," said Calvin. "In fact, if you check the comms records you'll see we got a message from Intel Wing a few minutes ago. They were giving me this new intelligence." It was true that the ship kept track of when a transmission came and how long it lasted, but no data as to the contents of the message were ever recorded. Since, almost always, it was for select ears only. Calvin was the only person on the ship who knew what the message really had been about.

"Understood, HQ out," said the Major. The call terminated and Calvin breathed a sigh of relief.

"I take it that's not quite the real reason," said Shen.

"What makes you say that?" Calvin smiled.

"Because that kind of technology doesn't make any sense," Shen sat back and folded his hands behind his head. "I know it's cutting edge and experimental blah, blah, blah, but," he shook his head slowly, "it wouldn't work."

"OK you're right," Calvin admitted. "Here's the real reason. The Fleet, or someone, has its hooks deep inside Intel Wing, and they’re willing to give us up in order to keep us from getting to Abia. Whatever Raidan wants us to find there, someone else obviously doesn’t. When I reported that we decided to head to Abia they told us to make port at Xerxes."

"Xerxes?” asked Miles. "That place is a rotting hell hole." He reclined his chair and put his feet up on the console.

"And if we go there, they'll take this ship apart, interrogate us, and hold us there until they're convinced none of us are bad assets."

"But we are bad asses."

"Miles, not now," snapped Calvin.

"Oh come on it can't be as bad as all that," said Sarah. "Are you sure?"

Calvin nodded gravely. "I'm sure."

"It makes sense," said Shen. "From their perspective. If whoever is calling the shots wants Raidan reigned in because he knows something they don't want to get out, and if that something is in Abia, then they'd be motivated to stop investigators—like us—from getting there."

"So why'd they sick us on Raidan in the first place?" asked Sarah.

"Here's how I see it," said Calvin. "They definitely want the Harbinger taken down, it's a liability for someone. We were hired to find it and help mitigate that threat. But during that process, we became a threat ourselves."

"Because we didn't stop the Harbinger by launching into some bozo suicide attack?" asked Miles.

"That and because we're asking too many questions. Our going to Abia instead of Zendricun," said Calvin. "Proves to someone that we are more interested in solving the mystery than taking Raidan down. Now, if they do have something to hide, and there is a vital clue in Abia, then we are a serious threat because we are trained. Moving us to Xerxes is a way of mitigating us. And then whoever is pulling the strings can divert other resources to handling Raidan. We were a convenient tool yesterday. But today, we're part of the problem."

"So why don't we just play nice and then go to Abia later?" asked Miles. "You know, fake em out. Go to Zendricun, maybe stay a few days, have a few drinks, and then sneak over to Abia when no one's looking."

Calvin laughed. "Thanks for cheering me up."

"I wasn’t joking," said Miles, sitting up. "Why do we have to go to Abia now?"

"Because whatever is in Abia might not be there later," said Calvin. “Besides it’s too late now, we’ve shown our cards.”

No one spoke for a few seconds. Then, just as Shen opened his mouth, the elevator door slid open and Summers stepped onto the bridge. "Here is your mysterious datadisc," she said.

"Thanks," said Calvin. He moved to take it from her but she kept it out of reach.

"It's blank," she said.

"What?" he asked, trying to think of some excuse for why it might still be important.

"I figured since you trusted me to go all the way down to get it, that implied I had clearance to see what was on it. But it's blank. And not just erased blank; it's never been formatted." Her eyes probed his and he knew she saw through him.

He snatched the disk from her hand. "The data isn't on the disc, it's in the disc," he said dismissively, as if she were stupid. When, in reality, nobody really understood what he meant. Including himself.

He went into his office and pretended to look the disc over carefully until his door slid shut. Once he was alone he locked the disc in a drawer and collapsed in his chair with a sigh.

Other ships would be looking for him now. And all his faceless, nameless enemies knew he was going to Abia.

 

***

 

Summers tried once more to contact the Fleet with the terminal in her room but, for the sixth time, she only got as far as the screen that said: "I'm sorry, this function has been disabled: code 101-C." She'd used every single Executive Officer bypass she knew to remove the block, but Calvin had higher clearance than she did. The computer would not budge.

She felt like slapping the console a few times, but had just enough discipline to keep it together. So, instead, she took a deep breath, marshaled her intellect, and began brainstorming how to circumvent Calvin and contact the Fleet.

Since Calvin had gone to such lengths to keep the Fleet from contacting her, she had to do whatever it took to contact them. And find out what Calvin was trying to hide.

She didn't buy Calvin's ridiculous story that outside contact was a security threat. It was a bold-faced lie. Calvin had obviously blocked it out for his own purposes—just like Raidan had. And if that's what ended up stopping her from catching Raidan and fulfilling justice... she'd go completely ballistic!

Of course... if Calvin were somehow unfit to command the ship, Major Jenkins had the power to override his command codes. And Calvin’s standing orders could be revoked. But how to arrange that? It wasn't an issue of making it happen. She wasn't going to injure him. That was something out of Raidan's playbook. No, Summers would follow the rules; since, in the end, the rules were designed to prevent this sort of thing from happening—they would allow a way for her to stop a deranged commanding officer from chasing ghosts across the universe at the expense of the mission.

Calvin had shown bad judgment on the bridge. And he'd shown up with signs of confusion and mental exhaustion. He'd been drinking, she was sure of it. And in that kind of condition he was not fit for command. And yes, that would explain his poor decisions. He's not right in his head. He needs help.

Before she knew it, she was on her way to the infirmary. With every step she further organized her arguments, giving them a brief polish so they'd be ready for the chief physician, Dr. Blair. Then he could declare Calvin unfit and Summers would take command. Once she had control, she'd re-establish contact with the Fleet and get the ship back on course to track down Raidan. It was not only the logical thing to do, it was the right thing to do.

Arriving at the infirmary, she found an empty, sterile room with a bored looking medic twiddling his thumbs and staring absent-mindedly from his chair by the door. Upon seeing her, the young man jumped to his feet, brown hair bouncing over his eyes. "Commander," he said, snapping to attention. She returned his salute.

"I need to see Dr. Blair right away."

"He's in his quarters," the medic pointed to a door. "He's not on shift."

"I need to see him, on the double, mister," said Summers, adding an edge to her voice. She didn't know what Calvin had done to these people, but for some reason they only seemed to listen if she sharpened her tone and repeated herself.

The man paged Dr. Blair. His rough voice crackled over the speaker. "Just what the hell are you doing, boy? I'm trying to sleep!"

Summers wasn't impressed.

"I'm sorry, sir," the young medic said. "But the XO is here to see you."

"If she's bleeding then patch her up. If not, tell her it can wait 'til morning... err afternoon. Whatever the hell time it is when I get up."

The medic glanced at Summers, clearly unsure what to do. Summers let out a quiet sigh and waved him aside. "Mister Blair," she said into the comm. "I need to speak with you right away; that's an order."

"Can't you just speak to me over the comm? I mean that's what you're doing right now, isn't it?"

"Not good enough."

"Fine, fine, just... let me put some pants on."

As the seconds ticked by Summers found her patience wearing thinner and thinner and again her mind spun circles at how ridiculous this whole ship was. 'Intel Wing is the pride of the military'... hardly. Public transit was more orderly than this flying circus.

"OK, what is it?" Dr. Blair asked after poking his head out the door. She'd only seen him a few times and once again it stood out to her how old he looked for a man in his fifties.

"We should speak in private," she said walking toward his door. Her intonation made it clear this was an order and not a request. Dr. Blair looked startled for a second and then hustled inside.

"Yeah... just let me put a few things away real fast."

Summers pushed the door open and caught a glimpse of what had to be the strangest starship apartment in the military. It was half bathroom half bedroom with a small liquor cabinet and a tiny refrigerator. The place smelled of old cologne and... some kind of fruit, and the few dressers and only table were covered with clothes, books, and random odds and ends. Clearly Dr. Blair wasn't used to entertaining guests.

As Summers closed the door behind her, she saw Dr. Blair hurriedly cram a stack of magazines and who knows what into a dresser drawer then slam it shut. Summers folded her arms thinking I don't want to know.

"So how can I help you, Commander?" Dr. Blair put on what was obviously a fake smile and then waved for her to take a seat. She declined.

"I'm going straight to the point, Doctor," she said. Perhaps approaching a subject like this slowly and gingerly was better, but she'd never had any skill at beating around the bush. Why bother trying now? "It is my recommendation that Calvin Cross be relieved of command. He is unfit."

The doctor looked taken aback; Summers had expected this. She waited quietly for it to sink in.

"What... what for?" His voice was weak. He still sounded shocked but there was something else too, a hint of anxiety.

"Because Mister Cross has violated direct orders from the Fleet—he did not engage the Harbinger. And now he’s cut off outside communication, and is sending the ship completely off mission." She tried not to raise her voice but couldn't help it.

"Now, now, I'm sure everything's fine. I'm not in the chain of command so I really can't arbitrate these kinds of issues. I'm sure Calvin knows what he's doing. He's won his share of medals and all that."

She felt her face get hot but she managed to keep calm. "Calvin showed up on the bridge today hung over—like some kind of alcoholic! And it affected his performance. His slow reaction time gave the enemy ample opportunity to destroy our ship."

"Yet here we are," Dr. Blair said calmly. "So what happened?"

"We got lucky," she said. "But next time, who knows. For the success of the mission and the safety of the ship, Calvin must not be allowed to retain his command. In his condition, he's putting everybody and everything in jeopardy."

"You said he was like an alcoholic," said Dr. Blair. "I happen to know that Calvin doesn't drink."

For a moment Summers second guessed herself. She really didn't know that Calvin was an alcoholic. But she did get the distinct impression he was hung over. "It was in his face and in his eyes, and his reaction time was very slow. He complained about noise on a quiet bridge..." she wracked her memory. "I'm sure something wasn't right about him."

"But you don't actually have any evidence of any kind?"

“Circumstantial…”

“—but not empirical.”

“I suppose that’s so," she admitted.

Dr. Blair smiled and seemed calmer. "I'll take your recommendation under consideration, Commander. But on this ship people are innocent until proven guilty. If you find evidence that Calvin has more than the allowed amount of alcohol or too strong of drink, you let me know."

"But until then you're not going to do anything, are you, doctor?" She was disappointed.

"No, I'm not. Nor should I. Now I suggest you go get some sleep yourself, Commander," he said, almost condescendingly. "You look miserable. And don't worry. I've known Calvin a long time and he knows what he's doing."

"Unless he's not himself."

"Tisk, tisk," the doctor wagged a finger at her. "No accusations like that until you find proof of the proof, get it? It's a pun," he chuckled and then climbed back into bed. "Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out."

Strongly irritated, she left his quarters.

So the doctor wasn't going to be any help; she should have expected as much. Just another crew member Calvin had in his pocket. One more marching, clapping, dancing idiot in his circus of fools. She pined for the day when Calvin's ship would undergo a thorough investigation and he'd get his. But, since that wasn't going to happen any time soon, it was up to her to set things straight.

She realized she still had one more card to play, as much as she loathed the idea. It was the kind of despicable thing she considered beneath her. But, despite her proper nature, she wasn't blind to the effect she had on men. And she'd seen Calvin, and almost every other man on the ship, trace her figure with their eyes at one point or another... why were men so very weak?

Calvin wasn’t ugly, but the thought of letting him get close to her was absolutely repulsive. She would never let him have his way with her, but that didn't mean she couldn't use his desire against him. The very idea was shameful... but if that's what it took to save the ship and prove that Calvin was a lunatic unfit for command, then that's exactly what she would do.

"I hope everything went well with the doc," the young medic spoke in his own cute nervous way, his face turned red when their eyes met. Summers smirked, thinking Calvin didn't have a chance.

"Yes, everything went fine," said Summers with a cool smile. "Now, mister..." she searched his lapel for his name but the white coat had no markings.

"Andrews," he said flashing a sheepish grin. "James Andrews." She had his complete attention.

"Thank you, James," she said. "Now I was wondering if you could help me with something."

"Anything."

"I need a particular kind of medicine."