The Deadly Pact Page 5

  Patho’s jaw clenched, and he fought to restrain himself from striking the man. Instead, he said, “I’m no Ebrim.” His teeth were clenched around his words. “I’m from Ollerfield.”

  “What’re you doing wearing that Ebrim uniform then? You aren’t one of those traitors that actually joined them, are you?” Incredulity stained the man’s voice.

  Patho sighed. Sometimes, he felt like he just couldn’t win. “Look, I’m not here to debate you. I’m here to see if my family is okay. Please leave me alone, alright?”

  “To hell with you, traitorous vermin.” The man raised his voice and shouted. “Hey, everyone! There’s an Ebrim sympathizer here. Why don’t we tell him what we think of his almighty navy’s kidnapping program?”

  People started to gather around Patho and the unidentified man. Patho saw angry faces and people bending to pick up sticks and rocks. This was going to get ugly fast. Aden bolted before he could be completely encircled. Feet pounded on the pavement behind him. Fortunately, Patho worked out every day, and he was able to outpace his pursuers quickly.

  As the distance grew, the man yelled after him, “That’s right, coward! Run like the scum you are! Keep your Ebrim friends out of our town too!”

  Patho looked both ways as he turned a corner. Seeing the street deserted, he ducked into the back yard of a burned out house. He quickly changed out of his uniform into the civilian clothing he’d packed in his overnight bag.

  It was a foolish idea to wear the uniform, he realized. The riots had occurred as Patho himself was preparing for the battle with the crabs. He’d seen informational reports of civil unrest and violent uprisings throughout the Karn region, but he hadn’t had time to think about it. Patho moved to the side of the house and looked out into the street. A few pedestrians were walking between homes, but there was no sign of the mob that had started to chase him. He slung his bag over his shoulders and walked briskly down the street.

  Ten minutes later, he stood in front of the house he’d grown up in. The street was a stark contrast to most of those he’d been on since arriving. There was no sign of the riots that had clearly gripped the majority of the area. The normalcy of the street gave it an almost surreal quality as he approached. He opened the gate and walked up to the white painted front door.

  He steadied his nerves and knocked gently, unsure of the kind of response he might get from his brother if he just walked in. He waited for a moment and knocked again. When the door still went unanswered, he craned his neck and peered in the front window. The small part of the interior he could see showed nothing amiss, but there was no movement. He returned to the door and tried to open it. It was locked.

  Sighing, Patho walked to the back of the house and lifted the shutter to the right of the back door away from the side of the house. A small metal key fell to the ground. He retrieved the key and unlocked the back door. As the door opened, the hinges creaked, bringing childhood memories of opening and closing the door many times and hearing that same creak.

  Inside the house, everything was still. “Hello?” Patho paused and then said again, louder, “Hello?” There was still no response. Perhaps they were out doing something. Patho had seen a number of aid stations staffed by volunteers assisting people. That was the kind of thing his mother might do, and she was insistent enough to drag Asher along for the ride.

  Patho walked into the kitchen and sat down, scratching his head in confusion. He looked over the table where he’d eaten as a child. A soft, pale red table cloth covered the table, and a glass vase stood at the center. One of Asher’s data pads sat on the table.

  Curious, Patho picked the pad up and tapped it to turn it on. The screen blinked to life and displayed a single icon in the interface. Usually, Asher had tons of small programs he ran on his tablets while he tinkered and updated them. Asher was quite adept at programming, and he’d sold a lot of his programs. Asher tapped the icon and an image of Asher’s face appeared.

  “Hello, Aden,” Asher’s voice came out of the tiny speaker. “If you’re seeing this message, then you’ve noticed that mother and I aren’t at home. That’s because we’re not coming home. We’ve left and gone to a place where you and your treacherous overlords can never touch us again.

  ”If you ever see us again, which I doubt,” Asher’s face screwed into a contemptuous snarl as he spoke, ”then you’ll have to acknowledge how wrong you’ve been. When you joined the academy, we thought you’d come back after a month at most.”

  Aden felt his chest constricting as he listened to the venom filled tirade his brother was obviously building up to deliver. Asher continued inexorably. “Since you have decided to come to see us, I will tell you that we are safe and far out of reach of your Ebrim friends. You can search for us, but there is no chance you will ever find us.

  “I want you to realize that mother and I still worry for you. We talk about you every day, and we hope you will eventually realize that you’re in the wrong place, serving the wrong people.” Aden snorted. His mining run during the battle with the crabs had likely saved the lives of everyone on Lashmere, including Asher.

  “You will always be welcome with us, once you’ve sworn off your Ebrim worshiping ways. The Ebrim can never hold this planet, Aden. Surely you’re aware of this fact. Without us, they can’t even feed themselves.” Aden chuckled mirthlessly at Asher’s simplistic view of the conflict between the Karn and Ebrim. Food had probably been the point that had sparked the war, or taxes on food, more precisely, but there were myriad reasons all contributing to the conflict. The planet was more than ninety-five percent water with very little arable land for crops. Most of that land was in the southern region of the single continent, where the Karn lived.

  “There is a contact in Ollerfield who’ll be watching for you. If you change your mind, hang a red strip of cloth from the front door knob, and they will make contact with you.” Aden rolled his eyes. Asher had always had a flair for the dramatic and his obsession with cloak and dagger secrecy was almost a joke. “Make sure you are serious if you take this step. It will set you on a path that you can’t easily turn from once you begin to realize the truth.

  “Mother and I were unable to follow the battle and hope you are uninjured. We won’t be easy to reach for some time, so we hope you’ll keep safe. Think long and hard on what I’ve said, Aden. The Karn people need someone with your skills more than ever now. Honor your hero father and take off that vile Ebrim uniform. We’ll wait to hear from you soon.”

  The screen went blank, and Aden heard the sound of frying circuitry. A moment later, the acrid odor of burnt electronics reached his nose. Asher’s paranoia was amazing. He had to know if Aden was actually willing to betray the oaths he’d sworn to Lashmere that there was no need to destroy the tablet. Conversely, if he was loyal to Lashmere, and he knew in his heart he was, a verbal account of what Asher had told him in the message was just as useful to an intelligence team.

  Patho picked the tablet back up and held it for a moment. Asher was never going to believe Aden was truly loyal to the Lashmere military, and he was never going to stop grinding away at him with his contempt and hate. A flush of rage built in his stomach until he felt his hands trembling as they held the tiny computer. He raised his hand and hurled it against the wall, where it shattered spectacularly.

  He thrust himself out of the chair and shouted, “Damn you, Asher!” The chair clattered over. Aden looked at it for a moment, feeling his senses going fuzzy as tears forced themselves out. He collapsed onto the floor and put his head in his hands. The unfairness of it all was too much. He couldn’t even go home without being chased and almost killed by an angry mob. These were people he’d risked his life to protect, and they wanted to beat him in the street just for being in his hometown.

  Aden never knew how long he sat there, tears streaming silently down his face. By the time he looked up, it was fully dark outside. He decided at that moment that no matter what happened in the future, he had no brother. There was nothing e
lse his brother or the Karn could do to hurt him. He would return to his duties and be the person he wanted to be. And, he thought firmly as he stood up to leave, he would never compromise who he was to protect his family from their mistakes. The return trip to the Lashmere spaceport felt like it took mere minutes.

  The Gorgon sat on a parking orbit above and east of the Lashmere Shipyard. Patho had used his rank to pull a direct shuttle flight instead of taking one of the general shuttles for the shipyard and then a shorter run to his ship. The Gorgon loomed out of the blackness as the small craft approached.

  Patho picked up a comm set and hit the transmit key. “Captain Patho requesting clearance to dock.”

  A few seconds later, the voice of his boat bay petty officer came back. “You’re cleared for docking in the main boat bay, Captain. You are first in docking queue. Welcome back, Sir.”

  “Copy, thank you. Patho out.”

  The shuttle drifted smoothly into the small boat bay that sat directly below the stern of Gorgon’s main hull. The space was tiny compared to the three bays Victorious carried. Gorgon did have a pair of emergency launch pinnaces tucked in external docking cradles near the bow. The after bay had four pinnaces and six utility shuttles like the one Patho currently rode in.

  The pilot skillfully flipped the shuttle end for end and nudged it into the docking cradle. The airlock extended and bumped against the hull. Hissing air filled the space, and the airlock telltale lights winked green.

  Patho addressed the pilot. “Nice docking maneuver. Thanks for the quick hop.”

  The young ensign flipped him a jaunty salute and said, “My pleasure, sir. Good luck out there.”

  Patho nodded back and opened the outer airlock door. The inner door hissed open a few seconds later. Patho surveyed the boat bay gallery. Thick windows looked out into the unpressurized space. He shut the inner door and watched the shuttle depart. Patho stepped up to the control station and addressed the petty officer who ran the boat bay. “Let the exec know I’m headed up to the bridge after I stop by my quarters.”

  “Aye sir,” the man said.

  Patho waved his comm at the roster checker mounted on the bulkhead and heard the ship’s announcing circuit give the automated message for his return to the ship, ‘Gorgon, arriving.’

  Patho entered the lift and punched up his cabin on the destination panel. After he’d changed and dropped his duffel bag off, he headed up to the bridge.

  The bridge was a calm pool of purposeful energy as he stepped out of the lift. The Marine on duty announced his arrival, “Captain on the bridge.”

  Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to give him their attention. His executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Glen Hilleman walked up to him and said, “Welcome back, Captain.” Hilleman was a couple of years older than Patho and was quite a bit smaller. He was about one point seven five meters tall, had sandy blond hair, hazel eyes, and had a slender, wiry build. He had a habit of using his hands expressively while talking to emphasize what he was saying.

  “Thank you, Exec. Everyone, please carry on,” Patho watched as his other officers returned to their tasks. “Have we received our orders?”

  Hilleman nodded and said, “Yes, sir. We got them this morning on the dispatch shuttle. I put the packet on your desk.”

  Patho clasped his hands behind his back and looked over the officers and enlisted personnel. “Did anything of note happen while I was gone?” Patho had been away for less than two days, but a ship never truly rested. Something always happened.

  “We had a minor malfunction in the manufacturing ring interface, but it’s already been resolved.” Hilleman’s hands waved about as he spoke. “There was a package for you this morning on the dispatch boat, as well, sir. Something from Admiral Stokes.”

  “Very well. Forward your daily reports to my data node. I’ll be in my office.”

  “Aye, sir,” Hilleman said. He turned and moved back to the command chair while Patho strode off of the bridge.

  Patho’s office was ten meters aft of the bridge. The door opened, and Patho saw two of the large, comfortable chairs from Stokes’ office had been placed in front of his desk. On one of the chairs, a hand-written note read: “Enjoy the chairs. Good hunting. Stokes.”

  Patho wasted no time in plunking himself down into the chair. The previous two days had been incredibly stressful. Patho wasn’t sure of where his family had gotten off to, but wherever they were, he was sure they were up to no good. Patho hated the idea of cementing them in the minds of Lashmere Intelligence as potential terrorists, but he really had no choice but to report what Asher’s recording had told him.

  Sighing, he knew there was no point in delaying. This was going to be an uncomfortable task, no matter when he did it. He punched up his ship’s readiness report before placing the comm request. Gorgon was fully loaded with supplies and was ready for extended unsupported action.

  Patho tapped out the comm code for Stokes’ office. The signal was acknowledged immediately, but there was a delay of more than twenty minutes before the admiral responded. Patho minimized the report he was reading when he saw Stokes’ face.

  “Good morning, Captain. What can I do for you?”

  “Good morning, sir. First I wanted to say thank you for the chairs. They make the rest of my office look a bit drab.” Patho put his best effort into a smile for the admiral.

  Stokes’ brows drew together as he gazed at Patho. “Captain, what’s wrong?”

  Patho drew a breath before responding. “Sir, I have to apprise you of some information I came into while I was on the surface.” Patho had intended only to relay only what Asher had said about leaving for points unknown, but by the time Patho was done, he’d told the admiral everything he remembered from the trip to the best of his memory. “So that’s it, sir. I don’t know what he and my mother are up to, but I have no doubt it’s not aimed at the betterment of the people of Lashmere. I’m sorry to dump this into your lap, sir. I wasn’t sure who else to tell.”

  Stokes’ face was set in a grim expression as he took a few seconds to digest the news. “Aden, I’m so sorry to hear this. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have your family feel the way yours does about your decision to join the Lashmere Military. All I can say is that everyone still on Lashmere probably owes you their lives. The crabs would almost certainly have had us if you hadn’t orchestrated that final mining run.”

  “Thank you, sir. I-“ Patho spun away from the video pickup, fighting to control himself. He. Would. Not. Cry. In front of the admiral. “Excuse me, sir. Please give me a second.” His voice quavered as he spoke. He took a few deep breaths, scrubbed at his eyes and turned back to face Stokes. “I apologize, sir. I’m taking things a bit harder than I would like to. Gorgon is fully prepared to execute our orders. I have scheduled a departure for tomorrow morning.” Patho worked to keep his tone formal.

  Stokes’s eyes were alight with sympathy for the younger man. “Aden, I… Very well, Captain. If there’s anything else you need before departure, forward your request to space dock. I’ll see to it you have top priority.”

  Patho nodded and said, Thank you, sir. Our round trip is roughly three days, allowing for full system cooldown and maintenance. It's seventeen hops. We won’t know what our on station mission time will look like until we arrive. I don’t anticipate more than another three or four days. You should expect us within ten days.”

  “Very well, Captain. Good hunting. Stokes out.”

  The monitor switched back to the report he’d been looking at before Stokes had answered his call. Patho stared at it sightlessly for a few seconds before giving himself a shake and firmly turning his attention to his duties.

  Stokes watched as Patho’s face vanished from his screen. He leaned back in his chair and surveyed his office for a moment. Patho was in a terrible position. His devotion to duty and commitment to his military career on one side and his family on the other. Stokes shook his head and let his chair snap forward. Sto
kes shook his head again. He hoped Patho would be able to put his family aside and focus on his duties. Although he knew the correct decision he would inevitably have to make, he sincerely did not want to make it.

  Seeing no advantage in waiting, he leaned forward and tapped the comm function on his desk. “Connect me with Lashmere Intelligence.”

  Chapter 4

  An insistent buzzer intruded on Admiral Stokes’ sleep. He felt himself swimming towards consciousness as the irritation he felt at the sound of the buzzer suddenly took on meaning. It was the alert buzzer reserved for emergency communication. He reached out and clumsily banged around his bedside table until his hand found the button he needed. At his touch, the buzzer stopped, and he said, “Stokes.”

  A voice came out of the darkness. “Sir, this is Lieutenant Mirness. We have an alert from Aeternum. Admiral Brand has reported an emergency.”

  “What’s the nature of the emergency, Lieutenant,” Stokes asked, still shaking off his tiredness.

  “Aeternum reports they have lost all functionality, sir. They are saying they’ve gotten some kind of strange message from the computer they can’t make heads or tails of.”

  “Very well, Lieutenant. Ready a shuttle. I’ll be at the forward boat bay in ten minutes.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Stokes was still buttoning his shirt as he walked into the boat bay less than eight minutes later. The shuttle was waiting with a pilot. The ride to the Aeternum was short; Victorious was docked at berth six, waiting for minor refit. He watched as the shuttle approached Aeternum’s primary docking bay at the tip of pod one.

  The shuttle moved into position and waited for a moment. Stokes watched expectantly from the copilot’s chair. After a long pause, he asked, “You sent the docking signal?” Not for the first time, Stokes wished it was permissible for admirals to fly themselves about rather than relying on others to pilot the small craft.