Dreadnought (Lost Colonies Trilogy Book 2) Page 6

  I hesitated, then nodded. A few minutes later found me in a tactical body shell. Zye herself was too large for human body-shells, so she took a chest cannon off its mount and cradled it like a rifle.

  Smiling, I led the way down to meet up with Marine Lieutenant Morris. He wasn’t surprised to see us.

  “Everything’s secure down here now, Captain,” he said.

  “Are the robots neutralized?”

  “They’ve been switched off remotely, but—”

  “Then the situation isn’t secure. We must assume the worst. The engineering team abandoned ship on us. No wonder they wanted to transfer out so badly. They weren’t planning to be aboard when their trap went off.”

  “The engineering people, huh?” Morris asked, shaking his head. “O’Donnell was always a bitch, but… well, you just can’t tell. Is she working for a rival House? Or was she a Stroj?”

  I shrugged. “It could be either. But I don’t know why any of the Great Houses of Earth would try so hard to damage this ship.”

  Morris chuckled “Don’t be naïve, Captain. You’re an anomaly among the upper classes.”

  I gave him a sharp look.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he said quickly. “This crew loves you, and we’ve come to realize you’re a capable commander. But the Houses of Earth have nothing to gain and everything to lose if we establish contact with our lost colonies again.”

  “Political upheaval isn’t an automatic result in cases of cross-cultural contact,” I argued.

  “Maybe not, but when you’re already winning the game, there’s little advantage in changing the rules.”

  Conceding his point, I tapped on the bulkhead that led into the aft hold. “What are the conditions in there right now?”

  “As best we can tell the hold depressurized several hours ago. There were two dead crewmen inside when we stormed the place.”

  “Dead crewmen? I didn’t see any reports of that nature.”

  “Yeah, well, we didn’t see it was depressurized, either. Someone must have screwed up the sensors and possibly our central computer as well.”

  Slamming down my visor, I tapped on the bulkhead again. “Seal off this corridor and open the hold.”

  He sighed. When everyone was breathing canned oxygen, the door dissolved open silently.

  The hold was coated in frost. Now that Defiant was no longer accelerating, debris floated everywhere in a profusion. It looked like an ice storm had hit and frozen everything in place. A broken power saw drifted by my faceplate, its cord severed and showing exposed copper wires.

  Zye’s hand shot out and grabbed the power tool, shoving it away from me. I marveled at this. She was even more jumpy than usual.

  Morris went in first. He’d brought down more marines, and three of them spread out around the hold, shining their suit lights in every direction with their weapons at the ready. Nothing ambushed them.

  I moved forward to step into the frosty chamber next.

  Zye’s hand shot out again, barring my way. “There’s no need for a personal inspection, sir.”

  Brushing her aside, I stepped into the hold. My chest cannon swiveled this way and that. The software was tracking my eyes as I looked around and aimed at everything I examined.

  Once we’d determined that the repair robots were deactivated and the hold was otherwise deserted, I examined the bodies of my fallen crewmen. In addition to the lost marine, there were two dead spacers from the loading crews. They wore black suits and shocked looks on their frosted-over features.

  “They were caught by surprise, that’s clear,” Morris said. “They didn’t even have a chance to put on their helmets.”

  I knelt and examined the bodies more closely. Zye stepped up behind me, and I felt her watchful presence. I knew she was probably frowning in concern, not wanting me to suffer the same fate as these hapless spacers, but I pretended not to notice.

  “Ah,” I said, noting a dark patch on the nearest man’s uniform. “An entry wound. They were shot or—”

  “Maybe not,” Zye said, lowering her bulk to kneel beside me. “I’ve seen wounds like this before.”

  Without asking, she rolled the corpse over. It moved stiffly and unnaturally, being both frozen and weightless.

  “There,” I said, “the exit wound. Very similar in diameter.”

  “Yes…” she said doubtfully, “I guess you’re right.”

  “If they hadn’t been shot, then what else might have caused damage like this?” I asked her.

  “I’m sure the medical people can tell us once we’ve sounded the all-clear, sir,” Morris interjected.

  I ignored him, frowning at Zye.

  “If we can find more wounds I’d be more certain,” she said.

  We examined the second body, scooting away the first so it drifted toward a stack of strapped-down crates.

  “That’s different,” I said, looking at the second corpse. It was the body of a woman. She had her helmet on, but it hadn’t seemed to help her. “There are three entry wounds here, all around the left breast.”

  We rolled her over and found no exits this time.

  “We must remove her suit,” Zye said.

  She produced a knife and slashed away the shirt. What I saw under there was alarming. The woman’s chest had a large gap in it. I could see into the chest cavity itself. It looked as if one of her ribs had ripped itself loose from her body and punctured her skin.

  “I get it,” I said with sudden insight. “They took a trophy. A rib.”

  Zye nodded somberly. “Yes. This is almost definitely the work of a Stroj team of saboteurs.”

  “They were probably ordered not to take body parts, but I guess old habits die hard.”

  The Stroj were an odd people. They’d become part cybernetic in order to survive on their newly adopted colony world, and over time they’d come to believe beings made entirely of flesh were inferior.

  They still, however, seemed to be fascinated with their past as full-fledged human beings. They often took trophies such as scalps, skin-patches and teeth to adorn themselves. The female marine was no exception. She’d been slain by surprise and had a rib plucked from her torso as she lay dying.

  “I hate the Stroj,” Morris said, breathing hard over his mouthpiece. “I hope we kill them all when we find their home planet.”

  Zye glanced at him in surprise.

  “An ambitious goal,” she said, “but a logical one considering the facts. There are only two possible conclusions to this conflict in the long term. Either we will destroy the Stroj, or they destroy us.”

  We left the bodies to the medical staffers then, after making sure the repair robots were thoroughly inoperable.

  “These repair machines are untrustworthy,” I said. “They were built by the Stroj after all, right Zye?”

  “That is what I said.”

  “Right. They were a trade good you purchased from the Stroj long ago. Now, these robots have turned on my crew.”

  Zye tapped at her faceplate thoughtfully. “I too, find this fact disturbing. When we Betas originally forged a deal with the Stroj, our engineers determined the robots couldn’t possibly attack any Beta. Perhaps our Alphas miscalculated.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe the Stroj followed the letter of the agreement you had with them. They can’t attack Betas—but they can attack Earth men.”

  She conceded that this might be the case. When the hold was declared clear of enemies we retired to our conference room. There were many things to discuss and plans to be made.

  The intrusion of the Stroj onto my ship changed everything from the point of view of Earth, but did little to alter our mission. Defiant must find a way out of hyperspace and determine where she was after she came out.

  Would there be Stroj ships waiting for us when we exited hyperspace at last? Or something far more deadly? We had no way of knowing.

  -7-

  The intrusion of the Stroj onto my ship changed everything from the point of
view of Earth, but did little to alter our mission. As Defiant’s captain, my first priority was to find a way out of hyperspace and determine where we were once we came out—that had not changed.

  Would there be Stroj ships waiting for us when we exited hyperspace at last? Or perhaps something even more deadly? We had no way of knowing.

  Defiant’s crew had grown to nearly three hundred individuals by the time we’d left Earth, but it was a tribute to the ship’s size that the decks still felt empty at times. Marching down the passages to a spacious conference room, I joined a meeting that was already in progress.

  XO Durris was guiding the group, but he sat down when I entered the room. He’d reported back to duty sooner than I would have liked, but he’d at least gotten a little sleep. Given the treacherous attack on our hold, he had a good reason to join us, so I didn’t order him back to his bunk.

  The topic of discussion was the attack itself, and its ramifications.

  “It’s my opinion, sir,” Durris said as he sat ramrod straight in his chair, “that the enemy probably planted some kind of explosive device on the ship before exiting. Their hasty departure makes no sense otherwise.”

  “If you’re right,” I said, “they probably did it long ago.”

  Durris blinked at me. “Why do you think that, sir?”

  “Recall their behavior before we left Earth. They picked fights with me, with you—with every officer on the ship. Let me ask this: did any of you like O’Donnell or her team?”

  They all shook their heads.

  “Just so,” I continued. “They purposefully worked to irritate us, then they requested a transfer off Defiant before we left orbit. It must have seemed like a sure thing—but we didn’t let them go.”

  Rumbold leaned forward and cleared his throat. “I was meaning to ask you about that part, Captain… why didn’t you let O’Donnell and her people bug out when they wanted to?”

  “Because Halsey wouldn’t allow it. We didn’t have time to train anyone else for the job.”

  The group nodded.

  Durris spoke up next. “If these suppositions are true,” he said, “we’re still in danger. After all, they must have jumped ship for a reason.”

  “I agree,” I said. “We’ll have to search the ship from the top to the bottom. Yamada, go over everything these three engineers did. Pull files on security camera data, the works. We have to know what they might have compromised. It might not be a bomb, but rather a simple weakening of a vital component. We just don’t know.”

  Everyone looked alarmed as they pondered the magnitude of searching this vast ship to find an unknown fault. We’d considered the matter to be at an end. We’d assumed that once the Stroj were off the ship they were no longer a danger—but we couldn’t count on it.

  The Stroj had operated right under our noses. Even though we’d all failed to detect them, I could tell Zye was feeling responsible. She was our chief of security, after all. She probably felt she should have caught the attack before it happened.

  “You’re right, sir,” Zye said with a grim expression. “Anything could have been compromised. They wouldn’t have left the ship if their work hadn’t been done. I’ll review every log I can dig up on their activities. There must be some kind of a record...”

  “Good,” I said, then I turned to Durris. “First Officer, I want you to spearhead the effort.”

  “I don’t know if I’m right for the job, sir,” he said. “I’ve already been fooled once. Perhaps another would be—”

  “No,” I said firmly.

  Durris was being Durris again. He was an excellent officer, but he was a little too quick to blame himself for every error. This made him meticulous and thorough—but also somewhat lacking in self-confidence. That was probably the primary reason he’d yet to earn a command of his own.

  “I have every confidence in you,” I continued, speaking in a firm voice. “I have confidence in all of you. Remember, I missed the enemy spies too. This is our chance to rectify that error.”

  The meeting broke up, and I moved on to even less savory duties. Gathering most of the ship’s complement of spacers, I committed our three lost comrades to float eternally in hyperspace. I wondered, as I shot them out into a formless gray void between vague reference points, whether their souls would ever find true peace out here.

  That evening, a tone sounded at my cabin door. I’d removed my overcoat, but I quickly put it back on again and let the coat cinch-up its ties. It wouldn’t do for a crewman to see me lounging after having conducted a painful funeral.

  The door chimed a second time before I reached it. Could that be irritation shining through in the attitude of my visitor? That was my impression.

  I dissolved the door and looked at Lady Grantholm in surprise.

  “Dinner…” I said after we’d stared at one another for a few seconds.

  “That’s why I’m here, yes,” she said. She knit her brows together giving me an up-down look of disapproval. “Don’t tell me you forgot, William? I’m your Great Aunt. Captain or not, one would think—”

  “I’m sorry, Lady. Won’t you enter and dine with me?”

  She swept by me with a sniff. Seeing there was no food laid out, much less a sumptuous repast fitting her station, she muttered under her breath.

  “What was that, Lady?”

  “I said one would think you’d forgotten your upbringing. Are you a Sparhawk, or a simple guardsman?”

  “Both, madam,” I said evenly, but the truth was, she was getting on my nerves. “You must excuse my distraction. I lost three crewmen and learned three others were traitors today.”

  Grantholm stepped away and made a fluttering gesture over her shoulder with painted fingers. “Commoners, William. Don’t tie up your mind or your emotions with them. They live short, brutal lives. They’re important of course—but not worthy of grief for a person of your station.”

  My jaw muscles clenched. “I disagree,” I said. “Vehemently.”

  She glanced at me and pursed her lips. “Let’s discuss more important matters. We have things to iron out between us.”

  “Such as?”

  “Your role and mine as we exit this bridge. You’re in command of this ship. You rule your crew and this vessel in every respect.”

  “I’m glad you understand the situation thoroughly.”

  “But,” she said loudly. She flicked up one of her painted fingers toward my cabin’s ceiling. The tip was a glossy lavender. “I command this mission beyond the limits of this ship’s hull.”

  I frowned at her. “Meaning?”

  “Don’t be dense, Sparhawk. I mean if we meet other colonists, I’ll do the talking. You’re to stand by silently, flying your ship with dignity. Do you understand?”

  “I take it from your overly dramatic statements that you think I might try to upstage you somehow?”

  She tilted her head to the left. “You have a certain reputation. You bulled your way back to Earth in this ship, and you earned command of her. But that doesn’t mean you’re a king. You’re a captain in Star Guard—that’s all. The position is comparable to that of a ferry pilot.”

  “A ferry pilot?” I demanded incredulously.

  “I’m sorry if I may seem rude. I find it’s best to speak bluntly when important details of command are being worked out.”

  “There’s nothing to work out,” I said. “I’m in command of Defiant. I plan to leave the diplomacy up to you, Ambassador. Nothing else has ever entered my mind.”

  “Excellent. Now, what are we eating?”

  I ordered up a platter of pine-spiced meats, dried fruit and a bottle of sparkling wine. This last item raised Grantholm’s eyebrows, but she accepted a glass from the cabin steward without complaint.

  Once we were in a more social atmosphere, the Lady’s attitude softened. She turned the conversation to House Astra—and more specifically, my intentions toward the Lady of that House.

  “Chloe is a fine-looking girl,” she said. “Sh
e’s young, but she seems to be level-headed. The loss of her mother was tragic.”

  I knew as a matter of fact that my Aunt hadn’t been able to stand the Elder Lady of House Astra, but I gave no hint of this. Powerful people from rival Houses always believed it was the best course to praise the dead.

  “That said,” she continued, “I think you should drop your dalliances with her. What’s wrong with a nice Grantholm girl? House Astra individuals are our traditional enemies.”

  I nearly spit a cream-stuffed croissant back onto the platter with the rest. Chloe had ended our relationship officially, but that didn’t mean I wanted my Aunt telling me who to consort with.

  “What?” I demanded. “Listen here, Aunt—”

  “—Ambassador,” she corrected quickly.

  “Ambassador Grantholm,” I amended, “I’m in charge of more than this ship. I’m in charge of my private life as well.”

  She made a small sniffing noise and drank her wine. “Never mind then, boy. I was just testing your resolve.”

  “What?”

  “I wanted to get a reaction out of you. I can see you’re serious about guiding your own destiny.”

  “I am,” I said, “let me assure you.”

  She nodded slowly. “Good enough then.”

  “Lady, on another point, I do wish you’d start treating me in a manner appropriate to my station.”

  For the first time, she looked surprised. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “I’m a Star Guard captain. Despite my young age, I am in command of the only Earth starship capable of interstellar travel. That makes me a critical member of our military. I’m not a ferry pilot.”

  She shrugged. “I’m well aware of your career accomplishments, but I don’t see how I’ve mistreated you.”

  “You haven’t mistreated me—not exactly. But you’re behaving as if I’m still a teen at a family gathering. A favored son, perhaps, or an entertaining youth with a spark of talent. I’m far more than that now.”

  She stared at me for a second. “Perhaps you’re right, William. You should remember that I’m an oldster, after all. Once one goes past the first century of life, it becomes more difficult to accept the rapid growth of the young into adulthood. Now, if you’d be so kind as to allow me to retire. I’m afraid I’ve been fatigued by this journey, and I must leave you now.”