Wanderer 3: Tainted Universe (15 page)

Using the
Wanderer
’s sensors he watched Sal storm away, with Dash following quickly behind.  Jess knew he’d pay for that later, but right at that moment later seemed far better than sooner.

*****

Admiral Vorn watched as the engineer worked.  Travis, his chief engineer, hovered nearby both fascinated by the tracking device and terrified at having been told about it.  It was dangerous knowledge.  The kind of knowledge that could see a man the wrong end of a firing squad.

The engineer seemed oblivious to the danger he was in.  He was focused intently on his task.  While Vorn couldn’t follow everything he could tell the engineer was skilled.  It presented him with a problem.  Travis wouldn’t breathe a word of this to anyone.  He knew the likely punishments if he did.  The engineer though… he couldn’t be counted on to keep his mouth shut.

On the other hand, it was possible Vorn would need such help again.  While he had no objection to having members of his crew killed when needed the idea of wasting someone so talented rankled.

He continued to consider the problem as the engineer worked and the chief engineer started to fidget.  Their privacy was assured.  They were in Vorn’s private meeting room, just off the bridge.  Several of his elite guards stood watch outside.

Vorn also kept an eye on the tracking device.  The fleet had finally entered jump space, and for the moment the
Wanderer
was sticking to a straight path.  Vorn wasn’t fooled though.  He knew the ship he chased would make a turn, an effort to throw off pursuit, at some point.

The task he’d set the engineer was simple enough.  The additional requirements he’d added were not.  The simple part was hooking the device’s output into the main ship’s controls.  When they drew close to their target the
Starslayer
would drop out of jump space almost on top of its prey.  An unusual request, but easy enough.

The tricky part was disguising the existence of the device.  Making it impossible to guess what was really going on.  The engineer had added several complex and interacting systems.  When the tracking device triggered a return to real space any investigation would lead back to the dummy systems.  In fact they simply took a command from the hidden layer that interfaced with the device and then worked to hide that fact.

“That’s it,” the engineer said, standing up with a groan.  He suddenly remembered where he was, and who he was speaking to.  “Sir!” he added with a sharp salute.

“
Good.  Show me how it works.”

It was surprisingly simple.  Vorn’s appreciation for the engineer’s skills went up several more notches.  That left him with the difficult choice to make.  Clearing all traces of what the engineer had worked on, Vorn signalled for his guards to enter.

Travis stiffened immediately.  Even the engineer began to realise the danger he was in.  His eyes grew wide and a sheen of sweat appeared on his face.

Vorn didn’t waste any time.

“Take him,” he said, pointing to the engineer who now looked ready to be sick.  “Protocol Delta Juliet.”

“
Sir!” the guards snapped out together, adding a sharp salute.  Two of them grabbed the terrified engineer and dragged him towards the door.  Travis relaxed slightly as the guards moved away.  He felt the immediate danger was over.  For himself at least.

Vorn watched the engineer’s departure with interest.  Would he panic?  Would he try to fight?  To get away? He wouldn’t live more than a few seconds if he tried any of those.

Not that he thought he’d live much longer anyway.  Vorn knew better.  The code Delta Juliet meant he wanted the engineer on his personal team.  That required some initiation.

First the guards would encourage the impression that the engineer was on his way to die.  Then they would stick him in a cell with only water and almost no light for a couple of days.  If he survived those two experiences well enough then they would reveal the opportunity he had been given.  The harsh treatment wouldn’t stop though.  At that point he would be subjected to a long, and often painful, process to reinforce the need for absolute loyalty and discretion.

Then, and only then, would he be trusted to leave the care of the guards and return to duties.  Though he’d never fully leave the guards behind.  At least two would be with him wherever he went for the rest of his life.  A life that would end suddenly if he spoke of anything he shouldn’t.

“
I trust the work was satisfactory,” Travis asked, unable to stand the silence.

Vorn turned to face Travis slowly, face neutral.  Travis couldn’t hide a tremble as he met Vorn’s eyes.  He quickly looked down.  Vorn let the silence stretch out for a few seconds more before speaking.

“It was adequate.  You may go.”

“
Thank you sir.  I won’t speak of this to anyone of course.  It never happened.”

“
Then you’d better shut up and go,” Vorn said, an edge in his voice now.

“
Yes Sir!”

Travis threw a sharp salute which was spoilt by the fact he started moving before it was complete.  As he scuttled out of the room Vorn was almost tempted to smile.

Vorn’s head snapped around at the chirp of an alarm.  He ignored the details of the alarm, it was a cover.  The alarm was actually telling him that the
Wanderer
had shifted direction.

Vorn quickly found that the
Wanderer
had made a significant course change.  This time he did smile.  The game of cat and mouse was properly underway now, and this time the mouse was in for a shock.  He opened a channel to the bridge.

“
Captain, bring us out of jump space.  Form up the fleet and wait for a new course.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Papa-Two, come to an immediate halt and await further instructions.”

Clay jerked at the message then quickly brought his fighter’s speed relative to the
Purple Cloud
to zero. 

“
Purple Cloud
, this is Papa-Two.  What’s the hold-up?”

Having finally torn himself away from the empty spot in space where Leo had died Clay was returning to the
Purple Cloud
.  All the remaining hostile ships had been eliminated.  The rest of the fighters would fly cover as the corvette closed in on the pirate base.

Clay had chosen to return to the main ship.  The thought of battle left him cold inside.  In that state he’d be no use.  People would end up getting killed because of him.

“What’s the problem?” he asked again.

“
Papa Two, the commandant general has asked to view the records of your recent fight.”

Clay cursed, though not until he’d muted the channel.  The shadowy power of the political officers left him nervous enough at the best of times.  The commandant generals were far worse.  They formed part of the Empire’s reaction to the Taint.  All military fleets had one, as did ships like the
Cloud
which were operating on their own.

The commandant generals were based in a secure area of a ship, sealed off from everyone else.  From there they could monitor everything that happened within and around the fleet.  Their one and only duty was to validate that the ship they travelled on, and the fleet with it, was free from the Taint.  Free from any possibility of being tainted.  When the fleet met other Imperial ships, or returned to Imperial installations, the commandant generals words would mean the difference between life and death.

Despite their dedication to the Empire, commandants could still fall to the Taint.  Their compartments were secure but not impregnable.  The commandant generals could be reached, though it would take time and set off alarms.  For that reason each commandant general had what was generally known as a BRB.  A Big Red Button.  A way of destroying the entire ship in a cataclysmic engine overload.

Clay had his doubts about the Commandant General system.  He was pretty certain everyone on board did — especially the captain.  No one discussed them though, especially aboard a ship where the commandant could be listening to any conversation he chose.

“
Purple Cloud
, this is Papa-Two.  What’s the problem?”

“
You were engaged in combat with one of the tainted.”

The commandant’s voice was scratchy and should have sounded weak, but it didn’t.  There was a strength, a conviction, threaded through it.

“The demise of Papa-Five proves it,” the commandant continued.  “The engines developed a fault far too quickly for there to be any other explanation.  Your shields were badly depleted during the fight.  I must ensure there is no chance that you too are now carrying the Taint.”

Clay was shocked to realise his life was on the line.  After surviving the desperate fight he might now be killed by his own side.  If he hadn’t reported his suspicions then Leo might still have been alive, and Clay would have been heading in to dock.  The irony wasn’t lost on him.

He thought back over the fight.  Had his shields been knocked out at any time?  He was certain they hadn’t.  Had they been depleted far enough that spot failures could have developed?  Failures that would have let weapons fire and potentially far worse through?  He realised he had no idea.

With chilling clarity he remembered the collision alarm triggering.  At the time he’d assumed that was down to the enemy falcon getting so close.  What if it was more than that though?  What if the falcon had unleashed something at point-blank range?

Clay resisted the urge to go through his own records.  If he did then it would flag up on the commandant’s screens immediately and would look suspicious.  It would make it seem that Clay had doubts of his own, and that might tip the commandant’s hand.

The wait seemed to be interminable.  Clay found himself sweating.  If they decided to implement Omega Protocol then would they tell him first, or would he just disappear in a cloud of superheated gasses?  If they did tell him then his options were limited.  His lightning had no jump drive and a range limited by his need to eat and drink.  He realised they wouldn’t.  They hadn’t warned Leo.  They wouldn’t warn him.

“Papa-Two, you are cleared to dock.”

Clay jumped slightly.  The commandant was gone, replaced by the bored voice of control.  For several seconds he sat stunned, amazed that he’d been given the all clear.

“Papa-Two, please respond.”

The controller’s voice was tinged with impatience this time.

“Sorry.  Roger that.  Proceeding to dock.”

Clay flew his fighter on automatic, the familiar task needing little of his attention as dark thoughts flickered through his mind.  It didn’t feel right that he had survived when Leo had died.  If only he’d kept quiet about the enemy pilots abilities.

Though he knew, deep down, that that hadn’t been an option.  If only he’d turned sooner, reached Leo sooner.  If only he’d gone with Leo’s group.  A dark corner of Clay’s mind even wished the commandant had ordered Clay's death too.

*****

Clay sat in the corner of the mess, nursing an almost empty bottle of beer.  It was late and he was tired, exhausted even, but he couldn’t face sleep yet.  Sleep would mean the day was over.  It would mean that Leo belonged to the past rather than the present.  Sleep would bring the service for Leo, and the other pilots who had been killed.  He couldn’t face that yet.

The lights were low, dimmed for the night, which suited Clay’s mood.  Officially he wasn’t supposed to drink while the ship was on combat alert, which was pretty much all the time now.  One of the mess staff had handed Clay the beer without him having to ask.  He’d nodded his thanks then taken himself off to sit facing the corner, back to the rest of the room.

That had been two or three hours earlier.  Since then the few people in the mess had drifted away, and the mess staff had closed up.  Clay had taken smaller and smaller sips from the beer.  Finishing the bottle would leave him without an excuse to avoid sleep.

Clay jumped as a bottle thumped down onto the table.  Lost in his misery Clay hadn’t realised someone had approached.  The captain dropped into a chair, two glasses clinking as he placed them on the table.

“At ease,” he said.  “Don’t get up.  Leo deserves something better than a beer in his memory.”

Clay looked at the bottle.  Whiskey.  And full too.  Tempted though he was that would be crossing a massive line.

“Sorry Captain, that’s a bad idea.  I’m on active duty.”

“
No you’re not.  That fight against one of the tainted has left you exhausted.  You’re signed off sick for twenty-four hours to recover.  Now get this down you.”

The captain filled the two glasses with whiskey, then pushed one towards Clay.  Clay shrugged and knocked it back in one.  The fire it ignited in his chest felt good.

The captain refilled Clay’s glass, then started to sip from his own.  Clay followed suit — sipping it rather than throwing it down.

“
You told Leo about the Omega protocol, didn’t you?”

Clay choked on his drink.  He stared at the captain through watering eyes.  What he’d done, telling Leo, was a serious offence.  Probably enough to get him shot.  Should he lie?  Somehow he couldn’t bring himself to care about what happened.  He shrugged.

“Yes.  It didn’t seem right letting him just sit there with no idea what was coming.”

“
And if he’d run?  If he got scared, or he had already been tainted?”

“
Then I’d have hunted him down and killed him,” Clay replied firmly.  “His fighter was wrecked.  He wasn’t going anywhere fast.”

“
Good.”  The captain clapped him on the shoulder, then downed his own drink.  “You gave him the chance to die a fighter’s death.  He deserved that.  I have to go.  Stay here.  Finish the bottle.  That’s an order.  I expect you to look suitably poorly tomorrow morning.”

“
Thank you captain.”

“
No problem.  Just remember to dispose of the empty bottle or I’ll have the whole ship trying to break into my private stores.”

He stood and walked from the table.  Clay sat staring at the bottle, thinking how lucky he had been.  Then something struck him.  He swung round on his seat, calling to the departing captain.

“Captain!  What if the commandant general is listening?  He’ll insist on punishment for my breaking the rules.”

Captain Webb turned, a slight smile on his face.

“There’s no what if,” he said.  “The commandant general is definitely listening.  I told him of my suspicions before coming to see you.  Don’t worry.  What I said still goes.”

Clay’s head spun.  “But… I don’t understand.”

“The commandant is interested in only two things.  Keeping this ship free of the Taint and protecting the Empire.  And not in that order.  Nothing you did goes against either of those.

“
There was no threat of Leo getting free or harming us.  You’d just survived combat with an exceptionally skilled pilot who was almost certainly tainted.  You’re worth far more to us alive than dead.  Something you might want to remember the next time you go chasing off after the enemy without backup.”

The captain’s smile robbed the words of their sting.  Mostly, at least.  Not waiting for a reply he turned and left.  Clay stared after him for a few moments, then glanced around the room.  He couldn’t see any sign he was being watched, but that meant little.  He raised his glass in salute, then knocked the contents back in one.

Clay believed strongly in the Empire, he wouldn’t be where he was now if he didn’t.  He even saw the need for the commandants.  Actually dealing with them had always been a painful experience though.  The feeling that just one slip, one wrong word, could lead to disaster.  Clay had heard plenty of stories of exactly that happening.  Of commandants taking the strictest possible interpretation over the most minor issues.

He’d assumed the commandant general would be the same.  So had everyone else.  Knowing he could be watching at any time had put everyone on edge, and it wasn’t even something they could blow off steam about.  Now the captain was telling him the commandant was exactly the opposite.  That he would overlook minor issues in favour of getting the final result.  Could that be true?

Trying to think about it was just too much effort at that moment.  The day had been exhausting physically, mentally and emotionally.  Clay grabbed the whiskey bottle and refilled his glass.  The captain had left him with a clear order, to empty the bottle, and it was an order he was happy to obey.