A Call to Arms (16 page)

Anderson reported in. “
Victory
to
Excalibur
. We’re ready to go.”

In response, Sheridan addressed his bridge crew. “Arm gravitational engines. Ahead one quarter.”

The navigation officer looked up. “Unable to comply. We’re still locked into spacedock.”

“Well... release the locks.”

“We don’t have the codes, sir.”

Sheridan nodded. He looked at a console alongside the ship, touched a panel. On
Excalibur
’s great, smooth, shining flank, a gun turned in its turret, took aim at a locking mechanism that was holding the ship in place. On
Victory
, Anderson followed suit.

The guns on the two ships fired almost simultaneously. The locks flew apart in a welter of metal shards. The ships were free of the dry dock.

“Problem solved,” Sheridan said. “Set course for...”

He paused, considered. Where
were
they going? Then he remembered his conversation with Galen, remembered the techno-mage saying, “Unless you act, Earth may suffer the fate of Daltron 7.”

Sheridan turned to the Ranger who was stationed at the control module. “Set course for Daltron 7.”

If the Ranger considered this an odd request, he didn’t indicate it. He punched in the settings. Sheridan smiled as the great ship glided away from the spacedock, followed closely by
Victory
. He loved this ship!

He said, “Prepare to jump to hyperspace.” He waited a moment, then, “Jump!”

The two ships leapt into the glowing oval of hyperspace as it opened up in front of them.

The planet rotated slowly under a haze of dark clouds. Near it, two jump points formed up.
Excalibur
and
Victory
came flashing out of hyperspace.

On
Excalibur
’s bridge, John Sheridan began studying the planet below.

Nearby, the Ranger at the navigation console announced, “Daltron 7, dead ahead sir.”

“Can’t be,” Sheridan said. “The reference table on Daltron 7 describes this as the next best thing to paradise. Clear skies, warm temperatures . . .”

He turned to the main display console.

“Ship . . . environmental analysis of planet.”

A detailed analysis of Daltron 7 sprang up on the display.

The computer said, “Nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere, in proportions dangerous for Human life-forms. High degree of carbon ash and particulate matter in upper atmosphere indicative of surface eruptions. Surface temperature fourteen degrees Fahrenheit. Temperature of planetary core far below normal levels. Anomalous surface details.”

“What kind of surface details?” Sheridan asked.

The display shifted to a computer enhancement. It gradually peeled away the cloud layer to reveal thousands of craters all over the planet’s surface. Dureena saw this and came up alongside Sheridan.

She said, “This--this is what they did to my world.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Sheridan said. “Daltron 7 was well outside the war zone. Besides, it’s been six years since the war... An attack here, even this far off the main routes, we would’ve heard about it by now.” He touched the console. “Ship... have you picked up any life-forms? Anything at all?”

“Negative on life-forms,” the computer voice responded. “Picking up one power source.”

“Identify the power source,” Sheridan said.

The computer complied. “Distress signal of Drazi origin.”

“Fire up a shuttle,” Sheridan said, “then tell Captain Anderson to do the same. We’re going down there.”

He turned on his heel and marched off. Dureena looked once again at the image with horrified familiarity. Then she followed.

Excalibur
and
Victory
hovered above Daltron 7. Again almost simultaneously, two atmospheric shuttles emerged from their launching bays. They arced away from their command ships, toward the planet below.

Aboard the shuttle from
Excalibur
, John Sheridan and Dureena Nafeel sat in seats behind the pilot. To the rear, on facing benches, an EarthForce guard detail sat in full battle gear, weapons at the ready. Sheridan watched pensively as they spiraled down into Daltron 7’s murky atmosphere.

The shuttle was buffeted by the inescapable strong winds that dominated the upper atmosphere, but the pilot controlled the craft, making a safe descent. The launch came out of the murky upper atmosphere, and suddenly there was a landscape stretching below them.

It was a nightmare scene. Once-fertile land had been subjected to an endless rain of heat and explosives, leaving everything a wasteland. During the attack, some deep-burrowing missiles must have penetrated to the planet’s core, for there were great plains of shiny black volcanic material. It was apparent that underground explosions of stupendous force had occurred, literally blowing out the inside of the planet.

In the far distance, Sheridan could see a mountain. Closer, there were the shattered remains of a city. The place literally had been turned inside out. Masonry blocks and steel girders were scattered like jackstraws. In the city’s center, a huge hole had been gouged into the ground.

“This is it,” Sheridan said. “This is the place I saw in my dream.” In his nightmare.

Once on the ground, Sheridan led them to the spot he had stood on before. He was wearing a parka from the launch, breather equipment that covered the lower half of his face, and he was armed. Dureena and Anderson, following behind him, were similarly clad and equipped.

Anderson had a tracking device, which he clutched in one gloved hand. He walked slowly, sweeping it from side to side, looking for the distress signal they had detected from shipboard.

The device’s beeping grew louder, increased in frequency as he moved in the right direction. Then, in front of a long mound of dirt, it seemed to explode into a constant chatter.

Anderson gestured to the others, then knelt down beside the mound and began gently brushing away the dirt. The soil was light and easy to work. Soon his efforts were rewarded as he brought up a palm-sized beacon transmitter.

“I’ve found the beacon!” Anderson said. He searched deeper into the mound. “And something else.”

As Sheridan and Dureena gathered around, Anderson brushed away more dirt, revealing a hand... a Drazi hand.

Sheridan knelt down and studied the face as Anderson uncovered it.

Anderson straightened up. “Is this the Drazi we were supposed to meet up with?”

Sheridan bent and looked intently at the face. “It’s hard to be sure, but... yes, it looks like him.”

“Somebody got to him before we could,” Anderson said. “I want the body searched. He might have left a note, anything that might tell us what happened here.”

Sheridan nodded to the guards, who came forward and started to work unburying the body. Dureena watched intently. Meanwhile one of the guards brought a comp-pad to Anderson, who studied the report.

“What is it?” Sheridan asked.

Anderson said, “I told my crew to do a more detailed surface analysis, scan the planetary core, and back-check the records, see if anyone reported what happened here.”

“And?” Dureena asked. “Look,” Anderson said, “I wasn’t involved in the Shadow War, you were... So I didn’t see these death-clouds. But... Are you sure this was done by a Shadow Planet Killer?”

“Positive,” Sheridan said. “Nothing else leaves a pattern of craters like we saw from above. I’ve never seen anything like it before or since.”

“And that was six years ago, right?”

“Correct. Then the Shadows left and took it with them.”

“Then we’ve got a serious problem on our hands, Mr. President... Because if what I’m seeing here is correct, all this happened just over a week ago.”

Sheridan and Dureena were silent for a few moments, as the full implication of Anderson’s information sank in. Dureena’s face was unreadable. Sheridan was obviously thinking,
Oh, no, not again!

Finally, Sheridan broke the silence. “The Drazi looks like he’s only been dead a few days. He might have seen something.”

Anderson called to the guards, “Anything on the body?”

The guards shook their heads.

“So it’s a dead end,” Sheridan said with disappointment.

“Not necessarily,” Dureena interjected. She walked over to the body, knelt down on one knee, and studied it intently. Then she slid a large knife out of her belt.

“Wait a minute,” Sheridan protested. “What’re you---“

Before Sheridan or Anderson could react, she drove the blade deep into the Drazi’s body, in the left armpit. She rooted around with it for a moment, then felt something with the blade. She worked it to form an opening, then reached into the white-rimmed gap and pulled out a data crystal. She stood up again, walked over to Anderson, and put it in his hand.

She said, “Male Drazi have a... pouch under their left arm. It’s covered by a skin flap. You can’t see it if you don’t know what to look for. Drazi smugglers use it to transport small items into other parts of space. If he was in trouble and he wanted to make sure the crystal wouldn’t be found, this was the logical place to hide it.”

Without waiting for their reaction, she walked off. Sheridan had the feeling that this was all very normal for her.

Anderson turned the data crystal over in his hand. “I didn’t know Drazi had a skin pouch under their arms.”

Sheridan looked vaguely pained. “That’s not a pouch. Well, not technically. That’s... their reproductive area.”

He also walked off.

Anderson looked at the still-wet data crystal in his hand. Although he was a hardened captain, he thought this was gross.

He called after Sheridan, “Did you
have
to tell me that?”

Then, to Dureena, “Hey, lady... Dureena... Listen, just for the record, the only valuable thing I carry with me is my watch. I want you to know that just in case this ever comes up in the future. Okay?”

After that, they finished up their work quickly. Soon, Sheridan was sitting beside Dureena back on the
Excalibur
shuttle. Through the port they could see
Victory
’s shuttle, with Anderson aboard.

Sheridan said to Dureena, “You did well back there. But I can’t help wondering how someone who’s supposedly just a pickpocket knows so much about smuggling and alien life-forms.”

“I’m more concerned with what you said,” Dureena replied evasively. “You said you beat the Shadows. You said they went away and took their weapons with them, the weapons they used to murder my people.” She looked him straight in the eye. “You were wrong.”

“We knew they’d hidden some of their weapons on other planets, as a safety measure, but we didn’t think anyone else would know where they were, or how to use them. But the Drakh would know... they probably helped build the damn things.”

“So you have had this problem before?”

“Leftover Shadow tech? Yeah, a few times, but nothing this major.”

“And what happened?” Dureena asked.

“We got our butts kicked, every time,” Sheridan said.

“Ah,” Dureena said. “Perhaps I should shoot myself now, and save myself a great deal of time and trouble.”

She thought for a moment. “No, that would be selfish. As their greatest enemy, they would have terrible plans for you if we do not stop them.” She nodded to herself. “Agreed. First I will shoot you,
then
I will shoot me. I would consider it a public service.”

“I’m honored,” Sheridan said wryly.

“You’re welcome,” Dureena said.

Garibaldi had returned to the construction dock. The place was well lit. There were spotlights on the various gantries and towers, lights on the toolsheds and staging areas. There were even banners, bunting, and other decorative splashes, all Drake’s preparations for the ceremony that would inaugurate the two newest ships in the EarthForce fleet. It looked like a place that was all dressed up for a party, but the guests weren’t there.

Excalibur
and
Victory
were gone, taken off, as Drake had told Garibaldi in exhaustive detail, on whatever madcap adventure President Sheridan had seen fit to take them.

“It was terrible, Mr. Garibaldi, simply terrible,” Drake said, finishing up his dramatic tale of how Sheridan and Anderson had come down in
Charon
and seized the two prototypes without so much as a by-your-leave. Garibaldi nodded absently. They were in the
White Star’s
dining room. Drake was sitting and talking, and Garibaldi was prowling around, half listening, drawing his own conclusions.

Drake went on, “Sheridan was like... like a madman. He just broke in here and stole the prototypes. You should’ve seen the look in his eyes... I was sure he was going to kill me.”

“Did he say where he was going?” Garibaldi asked. He stopped his pacing for a moment.

“No... But he was in a big hurry to get there, I can tell you that.”

“Then what the hell--Wait a minute. He wanted me to check out a planet out on the deep range. What was the name... Dal... Daltron 7.”

“Is that where he went?” Drake asked anxiously.

“I don’t know,” Garibaldi said. “But it’s a lead, and the only one we’ve got at the moment. I’ll have you shuttled back over---”

“No!” Drake said. “After what I’ve been through, I want to be there when you catch up with him. Besides, those two prototypes are my babies, Mr. Garibaldi. I should be there when they’re found.”

“All right. I think they’ve got a spare bunk room downstairs. Check with Lennok and see what he can do for you.”

Drake left the dining room as Garibaldi touched a com system.

“Garibaldi to bridge. Set course for Daltron 7. Best speed.”

The
White Star
turned within its own length and raced away, opening up a jump point as it went.

Anderson’s quarters aboard the
Victory
were identical to Sheridan’s. He was sitting there, studying a photograph in a framed case. It showed a beautiful, dark-skinned woman with thick, crinkled hair that was tied back in a club. There was a little girl beside her, and she was wearing a joyous grin.