Rebel Alliances (Targon Tales Book 3) Page 7

  Major Parsa leaned forward to put his notes on the colonel’s desk and then sat back to fold his hands over his knee. “Major Tychon, are you aware of matters contained in Captain Whiteside’s restricted files?”

  Tychon frowned. Now what? “I know there are two classified cases that don’t also include me. I don’t know what they’re about.”

  “She never discussed them with you?”

  “No.”

  “You never asked?”

  “I did. Once. There are some small scars her arm. When I asked her about them she said it was classified. I thought she was joking. But she insisted.”

  “Well, at least that is commendable.”

  “I really don’t like your use of the phrase ‘at least’, Major. Captain Whiteside is not the sort to turn military secrets into pillow talk.”

  “We also cannot discuss these cases with you,” Cillian said, ignoring his objection. “But we can tell you that this is not the first time she’s been involved in rebel activities. If you are wondering why we are skeptical about her motives for being on Dannakor, this is why.”

  “That is absurd!” Tychon snapped.

  For the first time during this interview, the Centauri major’s expression softened. She regarded Tychon with puzzlement and a hint of sympathy. “I believe we are done here for now. Major, I understand that you are very much attached to your... to Captain Whiteside. But given everything we have shown here today, can you truly say that she is blameless?”

  Tychon came to his feet. “Yes, I can.” he said. He turned to Everett. “Colonel, if you have nothing further, I would like to leave Targon now.”

  Everett stood up. “I’m afraid we have more bad news, Major. During the current investigation and due to your close relationship with Captain Whiteside, I am forced to temporarily remove you from active duty. You can move freely but I have rescinded your access to Air Command facilities and security clearance.”

  “You are accusing me of collaborating with rebels?” Tychon said, incredulous.

  “I am following protocol. Of course, we will continue to extend our protective measures to your family.”

  “Who is doing the investigation? Are they aware that the Arawaj faction operates mainly out of Pelion’s moons, not Caspia? Vanguard Three was out there not too long ago and probably know who’s doing the thinking for them these days. Is the facility on Dannakor closed off? You’ll want to get that keyhole charted to see where they may have gone.”

  “Major,” Everett said with an air of a man at the end of his patience. Tychon thought that slugging him might have some therapeutic value for both of them, but as always restrained himself from acting on impulse. “Air Command will investigate thoroughly, I assure you. Leave this to us now.”

  * * *

  Once outside the colonel’s offices, Tychon muttered string of expletives all the way to the elevators. He had learned from Nova long ago that an outburst of temper could at times offer just as much relief as escaping into the soothing meditations of the khamal. And so he cursed.

  He hurried through the halls with long strides, his mind on Nova. What could she have gotten herself into? Where was she now? The possibility that she might be injured or worse tried to get his attention but he pushed the thought aside before it could distract him any further.

  When he reached the flight decks and Anders’ ship, he wasted no time in requesting liftoff clearance, doing so by simply waving at the controller behind his glass wall at the end of the parking hall. He had no intention of filing a flight plan nor did he need one – at least not until the flight crew was told about the loss of his Vanguard privileges. Once aboard, he reached up to tie his hair into a braid and vaulted into the pilot seat where he settled a headset over his interface nodes.

  “Ready to go here, Flight,” he said.

  “Cleared, Major Tychon. Have a pleasant day.”

  At another time he might have been amused by the tower’s send-off but today he simply raised a thumb at the camera above him before shutting it down. He hovered the ship into the chute leading to the exit in the cliff that formed the edge of the base. Once clear, he calculated a course directly for Odar, one of Targon’s several habitable moons.

  He did not announce his arrival until he was ready to land on the small, shared apron outside a sprawling residential complex. Odar’s thin atmosphere lacked the rich oxygen mix required by most of their species but its gravity and easy access to Targon’s resources made it habitable. Residents lived under vast, flat domes or simply used portable oxygen when wandering outside them. The almost fantastic biology of purple, yellow, orange and blue plants and rich sources of water made Odar a whimsical and desirable place to live.

  Today Tychon had little appreciation for Odar’s eccentric flora. He snapped up an oxygen tank and left the ship to hurry to a row of waiting skimmers just inside the dome. From there it was only a few minutes before he set the air car down in front of a pleasant, single-storied building tucked cozily into a riot of orange and red foliage. The door opened before he had even found a bell.

  “Tychon!” he was greeted by a stout elder of Centauri origin. The man was clearly unprepared for a visit by the Delphian with so very little notice. He wore a comfortable lounging suit and his black hair was disheveled as if Tychon had disturbed a nap. “Come inside, come inside.”

  “I’m sorry to come down so unexpected,” Tychon said as he followed his former commanding officer through the small home and into an outdoor area. Here, too, plants grew in abundance, many of them in calmer shades of blue and green. “It is urgent that I speak with you.”

  Carras gestured to one of several comfortable chairs before calling back into the home. “Theresa, would you bring some of that wonderful arooja juice for our guest, please?”

  Tychon raised an eyebrow. “Theresa? Wasn’t that the name of your aide on Targon?”

  Carras settled into his chair with a bland smile. “She decided to retire as well,” he said, the sparkle in his violet eyes revealing more than his words. “Where is our lovely Nova? I have not seen either of you in months. When was the last time? Solstice on Delphi, I think. How is little Cyann?” He paused and leaned closer to Tychon to read the Delphian’s expression. “What’s happened, son?”

  Tychon who, in years at least, was older than the Centauri in front of him, hesitated. “I need to speak to you in absolute confidence,” he said and, with a glance at the house, added, “and privacy.”

  “You have it, Ty. What’s on your mind?”

  “Nova’s in trouble. Terrible trouble.”

  Carras’ first impulse was to chuckle at that. “Not an unusual condition for either of you,” he said but then his expression sobered. “You would not be here with such short notice if you did not need my help this time.”

  “I need classified information.”

  The colonel sat back in his chair and gazed over his small garden. “Well, now...” he said. “Surely you can’t mean that. I may be retired but I am still bound to my oaths.”

  Tychon nodded. “I will tell you what happened. As much as I can, anyway. And you choose how much you wish to tell me.”

  “Seems fair.”

  Carefully, Tychon began by telling Carras about the attack on Anders and then went on to the raid at the Dannakor base. He described what he had seen of Nova there without mentioning the location or the specifics of the project itself. He included the puzzling message she had sent from Phi Six to the man on Magra and ended with his own banishment from active duty.

  Tal Carras said nothing for a long while after Tychon finished. The woman who brought a tray did not join them when he glanced up at her and some silent signal passed between them. He poured the tart, warm juice but neither he nor Tychon picked up their cup.

  “This does sound like a whole lot of trouble,” he said finally.

  “Do you know this Bellac woman? Acie?”

  “No.”

  Tychon unfolded his long legs to stand up, feeling re
stless and caged; an unusual sensation for him. “Look, Nova is impulsive and temperamental and sometimes she pushes the rule book a little past the literal meaning, but she is no traitor! She is a soldier and she takes that very seriously. You know this!”

  “Apparently Colonel Everett does not.”

  “Fine time for you to retire, Tal,” Tychon said, looking past the thin shield of the settlement’s dome to the hills beyond.

  “I’m not sure if protocol would have allowed me to do anything differently,” Carras said. “He’s new to the job. You Vanguard are not like the other wings and he’ll come to realize that, I hope. But he’ll have gotten top-level directives on the matter if it involved a classified project. So what can he do but try to contain the damage? Frankly, he could confine you if his doubts were greater.”

  Tychon nodded and sighed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

  “I’m sure further investigation will show the truth, whatever that may be. Once the witnesses are interviewed they will know more.”

  Tychon turned back to him. “And meanwhile Nova is missing in action. And no one seems to care! She could be in rebel hands for all I know. Or injured. I can’t wait around to see what their team might or might not find out when they get there! That could be days yet.”

  Carras pursed his lips, pondering. “From what I’m hearing you say, these weren’t just pirates looking for loot. The only force with the resources to successfully take down an Azon installation are the Shri-Lan. She could be dead by now.”

  “No,” Tychon said at once. He tapped his forehead. “I’d know that, Tal. If she were gone, I’d be missing something. She’s still in there. She’s still with me. I know this.”

  Carras regarded the Delphian silently, realizing that no off-worlder would ever truly understand his people. Perhaps Nova did. But Nova was as tight-lipped about Delphian secrets as she was with military matters.

  “She’s not without wit and resources, Ty.”

  “I know that. Can you at least tell me what has Everett so convinced that she’s a collaborator?”

  “No, I can’t. But he is not wrong. There is enough in those files to cloud his opinion of her.”

  Tychon froze. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that I can’t say anything. But I know she’s an excellent officer and I do not want to believe that she’d give classified information to rebels.”

  “You sound doubtful.”

  Carras inspected his folded hands, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve seen a lot in my years, Ty. It has given me doubts about many things. I have no certainty about anything and I’ve learned to live with that.”

  “We’ve fought the rebels for years. One faction is worse than the next. Nova has every reason to loathe them, besides an actual professional duty. Nothing would ever convince either of us to further their cause.” Tychon touched the sickle-shaped scar under his eye, a gift from a rebel leader, and then ran a fingernail over the edge of his interface. “I’ve been inside her head. There is no treachery there. I know this.”

  Carras smiled sadly. “There is much power in the love of a man fighting for his family,” he quoted. “So also true for Delphians, I see.”

  Tychon shrugged. “You won’t find a Delphian admitting to that, old man, so don’t start with me.”

  The Centauri chuckled. “Too late for that, young man.” He turned serious. “But don’t let it blind you, either. You are wired to trust analytical investigation and empirical evidence. Don’t lose sight of that.”

  “She is the mother of my child. You know what that means to us. And I’ve learned the value of trusting my guts, too.”

  “From her, no doubt. If you asked me what my guts were telling me, I would say that you are correct. Her loyalties are with the Union. And with you.”

  “Is there nothing you can tell me?”

  “I will do more than tell. I will give you this Sethran she mentioned in her message to Magra. He may know how to find the Bellac woman, if she escaped the attack. Or he may know why she was there, or how she knows Nova. Any of that may help.”

  Tychon returned to his seat. “Who is he?”

  “Sethran Kada.” Carras hesitated. “He is a bit of an enigma. Centauri. Pilot. Probably as good an ethnologist as Anders, mostly because he moves around so much. Probably speaks more languages that you do.”

  “But he’s not one of ours?”

  “Hard to say. Technically not any more. He has done work for us. Mostly black ops, I’m afraid. Maybe some for the rebel. Generally for himself, I think.”

  “Sounds like a fine specimen. How does Nova know someone like that?”

  “Yes, well.” Carras leaned forward to pick up his drink. “I’m not too sure. However, I think I know how to find him. I will send a message today to ask him to contact you. I’m also going to see if Air Command will let me take an interest in this matter. Perhaps I can get clearance to get at some of the information you need. Considering my experience with Nova, they may well allow this. It’s the best I can do.” He observed the Delphian’s troubled face for a moment. “Now, since you’re here, stay for a meal and tell me how the planets are turning out there! Did they get to an agreement with Feyd over the extra property? Did your Council figure out the rights to the North Slope? And how is that pretty little daughter of yours?”

  Chapter Five

  Darkness. Cold. A metal floor beneath her and the unpleasant sounds of the ship’s mechanical workings too close to ignore. Nova sat up and scrubbed her face with both hands before making yet another futile attempt at escaping the bonds that tied her wrists together. Had she fallen asleep? Passed out after yet another kick to her midriff from that miserable Centauri? The whole thing seemed a little blurry.

  She groped around the dark, moving slowly to avoid another bruised hip. When the two grunts had first tossed her into this box she had stumbled around and finally decided on the floor after colliding with a number of metal edges. This room was little more than an umbilical space between the freighter itself and its cargo modules.

  Nova slumped in a corner, listening to the rhythms of the machines that drove the life support and gravity systems. None of them sounded particularly well-maintained and she wondered if anyone on the bridge was monitoring them.

  She closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the metal bulkhead and thought about what had gone so terribly wrong yesterday.

  Ryley, the com officer, had stuttered their surrender out to the rebel ship and then more or less collapsed beside his console, awaiting his fate.

  “Get up,” she had told him when she came to look at his displays. “Haven’t you had instructions about pirates or hostile boardings?”

  “These aren’t pirates!” he whimpered. “These are rebels. Killers, anarchists, rapists. They’ll murder us all.”

  “Some pirates are worse than rebels, believe me,” she said, her eyes on the ship’s sensors. There were thirty people on the freighter, still near the locks. The enemy ship appeared to have about seventy life forms. And heavy armament. “You’re going to have to pull your pants up now, Ryley. Let’s join up with the others.”

  He shook his head.

  “Fine. Stay down, don’t annoy them, do what they tell you. Clear?”

  He nodded.

  Nova left the bridge and hurried back along the main corridor of the supply ship to where most of the others had gathered. Along the way she shrugged out of her flight jacket and threw it into one of the cabins along the hallway. Belatedly, she remembered the interface module she had taken from Lieutenant Quinn and retrieved it. It was small enough in the secret fold of a pocket flap on her fatigues to escape whatever search she could expect at the hands of the rebels.

  She arrived near the locks to find a mix of civilians and uniforms, either speaking excitedly or huddled as frightened and shocked as the com officer on the bridge. A quick look around the crowd assured her that Acie was not among them.

  “People,” she raised her
hands to catch their attention. “Listen, everyone!”

  Gradually, the excited babble ceased and their faces turned toward her. A few more civilians arrived from a side chamber.

  “I need you to stay calm now,” she said, looking from one confused and anxious face to the next. She was unaccustomed to dealing with civilians and suddenly felt utterly unqualified to manage a survival situation that was sure to turn hysterical at any moment. She took a deep breath. “We escaped through an uncharted keyhole. At this point we don’t know exactly where we are.” She raised her hands again to calm the panicked voices that rose from the small crowd. “But the breach is stable and we haven’t lost contact with it.”

  “So can you jump us back, then?” a Centauri woman close to Nova said.

  “Not right now. You’re about to feel a collision against the hull of the ship. That is a cruiser locking on to us. It also came through the breach with us.” She paused for a moment before delivering the rest of the news. “It’s a rebel ship. They followed us from Dannakor.”

  Nova took a moment to look around the group, ignoring the terrified wails and questions hurled at her. She noted some lab coats, some of whom she recognized, several civilians and a number of uniforms. Near the back, Jovan, the young Delphian, leaned against a bulkhead, arms crossed as he surveyed the situation. His expression gave nothing away but Nova was sure that she saw amusement in his eyes. She gestured to the soldiers to join her. Most of the others fell silent when she addressed them.

  “I am Captain Nova Whiteside, Vanguard Seven, stationed on Targon under the command of Colonel Dom Everett. We’re outnumbered, so don’t be playing the hero. Look after the civilians as best as you can. Keep only your long guns for them to take and hide your side arms somewhere. See if you can find any other weapons aboard. That does not mean I want you attacking anyone, clear?”

  “Yes, Captain.” Two of the soldiers collected their guns.

  She looked to the others. “Any crew members here?” A few of them raised their hands. “You, go with the lieutenant and cache the weapons.”