Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Crusade Page 4

  Loren made it a practice to conduct some of the interrogations himself, even though there were intelligence officers onboard trained in the methodology as well. He had made his case to Captain Elco, and even had the ranking Intel officer onboard coach him and observe his work, and had been cleared to participate. He simply couldn’t shake the thought that something vital would slip through the cracks if he wasn’t involved. He was sure the officers in the Intel offices thought he was meddling, but nothing was going to stop him from finding the cure for the Priman’s DNA weapon, and the clock was ticking.

  The information Halley had found and brought back from Callidor had been invaluable; in fact, everything the Confederation knew about the virus was thanks to her operation, which Loren had been a part of. Based on the information they had deciphered so far, Confed scientists figured the population of Toral had about three weeks before the DNA weapon activated and started dismantling the Priman DNA sequences in people. Nobody knew exactly how that would manifest, but everyone assumed the results would be horrible.

  He had given the computer forensic people an hour and a half before he needed some info from them so he could start the first round of interrogations. He would look pretty inept to the prisoners if he couldn’t verify any of their information and let them lead him on. He was spending that free time in his quarters studying what info he had about this crew and their ship.

  The comm on his desk buzzed. “XO here,” he replied when he hit the button.

  “Ensign Roxis in Intelligence, Sir,” came the voice on the other end. “We have something you definitely need to see before you get started.”

  “I’m on the way.”

  “So, as you can see,” Ensign Roxis was explaining, “what we’ve found so far is pretty encouraging.” He was pointing to bits of text, pictures, and graphs on a large monitor as he dragged them around with his fingertips. “There are definite references to the DNA weapon, some info corroborating the early reports we had from that source on Callidor we’ve heard so much about.” The man knew Loren had something to do with that op, and he turned to look at the XO to see if he offered anything. Stonefaced, Loren said nothing, so the Ensign pressed on. “There’s more, of course, but the DNA information is in there. The problem is, even in its’ deleted and scrambled form, there are layers of encryption that are blocking us. With the right passwords or workarounds, I know I can get at this.” The man had run out of steam, frustration with the roadblock that he faced.

  “So you’re telling me you need some passwords or backdoor hacks,” Loren stated simply.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay,” Loren said, “go ahead and brief the others while I get going with one of these prisoners. Session ends in twenty minutes and we compare notes.”

  Loren grabbed a datapad with the information the intel folks had gathered so far and headed to one of the interrogation cells. He picked the first one and made sure his pad was synced up with the occupant.

  He opened the door and stepped in, waiting for the door to close behind him. The cell was simple, with the door he entered as the only thing breaking up the monotony of the otherwise identical interior. Cameras, infrared, and various medical monitors kept an eye on things without giving up their presence.

  He sat down across the small table that was in the middle of the space. Seated across from him in an uncomfortable chair, hands and feet shackled to it, was a fairly nervous looking Priman officer. Loren sat there, looking at his datapad, not saying anything. He keyed through several screens, including data about the prisoners that Avenger now held, taking his time in what was known as the Silent Treatment. It was meant to show dominance, make the victim nervous, and also imply that Loren was sifting through tons of data about the prisoner, though in fact Loren didn’t know all that much. The trick was in convincing the Priman that Loren held all the cards.

  “Officer Malric,” Loren began, looking at the Priman for the first time. He didn’t have the time or patience for games from this Priman, especially considering how close he was to this. “You are on a Confederation ship, and are now behind our lines. Since there have been no agreements between us regarding treatment of prisoners or exchanges, you can expect to be in our custody for some time.”

  He let that sink in, watching for the signs he needed. The man was nervous, flustered, but he couldn’t tell if he’d ultimately be cooperative. “I’ve been reviewing some of the data you had in your ship.” He glanced at the datapad again. “You call yourselves Keepers, eh? Charged with analyzing and cataloging Priman as well as everybody else’s information.” He stared at the man intently; eventually, the Priman looked away. “Didn’t get to blow your ship like you were supposed to, it looks like. Couldn’t cut your own throat with that one knife aboard either?”

  The Priman looked back at Loren as if he was about to speak, then clamped his mouth shut.

  Loren caught the cue, though. “If there’s anything you’d like to say, now would be a good time,” Loren encouraged. “It would be a shame if you kept yourself alive this long only to die now.” He stared at the Priman pointedly.

  “You haven’t asked me any questions,” the man stated shakily.

  “I think you know what I want,” Loren replied slowly. By not being specific, he was hoping to encourage the Priman to aim high in his initial offering. “I’m just letting you know the situation you’re in. And here’s the kicker- right now I have five other interrogation cells with your shipmates in them, and they’re all doing the exact same thing. I only need one of you to cooperate with us, the rest are of no use to me.” He let that hang in the air. There was a time when he wouldn’t even have felt like he was capable of playing that card as a bluff; now, with his wife’s life in jeopardy, it was not a bluff but a simple fact.

  “Who are you?” the Priman asked.

  “I’m the only one who gets to ask questions, always remember that,” Loren replied. Then he got up, turned in place to show his back to the man, and left the cell.

  “So,” Loren began, “any prospects?” All six interrogators were seated at the small table in the briefing space in the intelligence unit.

  They responded with varying degrees of success. Loren was getting upset. His life used to be so black and white, right and wrong. Now, after the DNA weapon’s use on Toral, Loren was learning about the many shades of gray that existed. The Primans were at their mercy, and that responsibility wasn’t to be taken lightly. However, it was time for Loren to choose his shade.

  “Ok, let’s put it this way- who isn’t going to be of any use to us?”

  Ensign Roxis immediately raised his hand. “My guy, Sir. We didn’t get any personnel file info on him, and he’s not talking. We just refer to him as Number Five.”

  “Ok,” Loren said after a minute of thought. He had come to a final decision about which shade of gray he was going to settle on. “Get some Marines and take the prisoners to Service Bay Three.” The Service Bay was a small cargo bay with an external door for a few small repair vehicles, as well as an airlock so crew could get outside onto the hull.

  Chapter 3

  They all stood assembled in the bay, its’ small size making everyone feel cramped.

  The Primans were lined up against the outer bulkhead, waiting to see what the Confed people had in store for them.

  Loren walked right up to Number Five, conveniently at the end of the line, and punched him in the gut as hard as he could, sending the man to one knee in pain. The other prisoners jerked nervously but stayed in place. Loren grabbed Five by the scruff of his collar and guided him into the open airlock hatch, dumping him on the floor inside. Loren sealed the deal by slapping the hatch closed and locking it.

  Finally, Loren walked over to the Marine in charge and put his hand out, asking for the man’s SSK. Loren took the pistol and returned to where he had been standing.

  “Marines,” Loren said simply, “you’re dismissed. You can wait outside the hatch.” He turned to look at the intel spooks with him
as well. “You, too.”

  To a one, they all looked at him with concern and confusion. He took their indecision in stride, but he was going to do something that none of them needed to get blamed for.

  “Seriously, everyone get out.” he stated. He stared at them until they realized this wasn’t showmanship for the Primans. They left without a word and closed the hatch behind them, leaving Loren alone with five worried Priman prisoners on the other side of the compartment from him. Even with the numbers in their favor, any attempt to rush Loren was a loser, since his sidearm possessed plenty of rounds to take them all down before they got to him.

  “I want you all to consider something,” Loren began, eyeing up each one of them in turn. “I don’t know any of you. You might be real nice folks outside of your service to your people. I can understand duty and serving your race. We’re on opposite sides philosophically when it comes to ownership of this galaxy, apparently, but whatever your reasons for being here, I realize you are all individuals and your opinions are not necessarily those of your commanders. In conclusion, I doubt all Primans are evil sociopaths hellbent on galactic conquest.”

  He paused to let his words sink in, even as Five pounded on the glass of the airlock hatch. He yelled, as well, but his voice didn’t carry through, just the rhythmic pounding of his fist on the glass.

  “However, your people are in the process of trying to kill my people. You’ve done everything from kidnapping or killing our government to spreading a DNA virus in the planet Toral’s atmosphere which will kill everyone on that planet in a few weeks. Since your commanders have put genocide on the table, I figure that means all bets are off, and I need somebody here to talk. Otherwise, none of you have any value to me.”

  Without ceremony, he punched in a code and flicked two switches enclosed by red covers, and the outer airlock hatch slid open, explosively venting the air inside as well as Number Five out into space.

  Loren walked to the hatch leading to the corridor and opened it, calling the Marines back in.

  He was back in the cell with his original prisoner, who had swung back and forth between nervousness and anger several times. Loren needed to time his pitch in order to catch the man during the nervous phase, but he couldn’t afford to wait, because he knew sooner rather than later the Captain was going to learn what he’d just done.

  “You call us sociopaths,” said the man quietly. “You’re the monster.”

  “You know, there was a time when I would have been appalled by what I’ve just done. But my life changed when your people attacked Toral. I’ll tell you a little secret.” Loren leaned in closer, speaking softly, and despite himself, the Priman did so as well. “My wife is on Toral. Not everyone on this ship knows that, but it’s true. And that is why I’ve reached the point where I don’t much care what happens to anything else as long as I can help her. I think there’s some info locked away in your computer memory that we captured which will help me. And I need the backdoor routines or passwords to get at that info. I’ll even offer this: help me get that info, and I won’t go after whatever else is locked up in there. That’s all I need, all I care about in this life. You help me, or we go back to the Service Bay and one of you gets tossed in the lock, and we do this all over again until nobody’s left, because if she doesn’t live, as sure as a sun burns hydrogen, neither will you.”

  Loren looked at the man coldly, trying not to think about what he’d just done.

  After a minute, the Priman had said nothing, though Loren could tell he was close to breaking. Loren stood up, turned, and walked to the hatch just like he’d done the first time.

  “Wait,” the prisoner said softly. “You really only care about the DNA weapon you say, but I don’t think we would have much. It was so secret, only a few people other than the Commander knew about it. I’ve been told the program is done anyway. You’re willing to space us all and there might not be anything of use to you.”

  “Are you getting to something I can use?” Loren asked without turning around.

  “I will help you find anything we have on the DNA weapon if you start treating us like honorable prisoners of war again,” the Priman said quietly but firmly.

  “I want everything connected to it,” Loren clarified. “I don’t care about fleet movements or what planets in the Enkarran Empire you’re going to colonize next, but what I do want is the R and D on the weapon, who ordered its’ use, who’s in charge of running it now, everything.”

  Loren finally turned to look at the Priman, who met his gaze and didn’t break eye contact. “We’ll verify what you give us, and if it’s valid data, you get what you asked for.”

  “Agreed.” the Priman said with a nod. “And if you ever find yourself to be a prisoner of ours, I hope you know you will be treated better than this.”

  Loren sat in his quarters, all lights out except for his desk lamp. He couldn’t sleep, and had stopped looking at the ship’s time on his displays an hour ago. He had turned the Priman over to an intel spook after explaining the terms of the deal, and those two were probably going over the captured Priman equipment right now. The problem was, now that the moment had gone and the adrenaline had worn off, Loren was left with the hollow feeling that he had crossed some horrible line that he’d never be able to forgive himself for.

  The door chime startled him, and he jumped to his feet to cross to his hatch. He took a moment to compose himself, and then hit the switch to open the door.

  “Loren,” said Captain Elco by way of greeting. He held a small flask, and that sent warning bells off in Loren’s head. The Captain, much like Loren, wasn’t a big drinker, and the small bottle only meant that he wanted to have an off the books talk. He could guess with one attempt what that talk was going to be about.

  “Come in, Captain,” Loren said and swept his arm across his quarters.

  Elco entered, made a quick detour to the small kitchenette to grab two glasses, and had a seat across from Loren’s desk, waiting for Loren to seat himself. Elco poured out two fingers of the clear liquid and set the glasses in place.

  “So,” Elco began, “Rough afternoon in the intel unit, I hear.” He took a small sip and waited for Loren’s reply.

  Loren, in an uncharacteristic gesture, downed the whole thing and placed it back on his desk, keeping his hands on the glass. “I know why you’re here, so I’ll get right to it,” he began in a rush. “I spaced one of them to get them to talk. They weren’t going to offer us anything, but I knew there was data locked up in their equipment. I wasn’t going to kill them all; they can’t help me if they’re all dead. I just needed to get them to tell me what I need to know.”

  “What the Confederation needs to know, you mean?” Elco said with a raised eyebrow.

  Loren started to say something, then stopped and stared back into his glass.

  “You know,” Elco began again, “none of the intel people said anything to me. I found out because I had somebody follow up on a notification we got about an outer hatch opening during hyperspace travel. We backtracked it to the Service Bay, and here I am.” He looked at Loren, who seemed to be aging before his eyes. “Look, Loren, I can’t imagine what you’re feeling, and I imagine that’s why nobody from your interrogation staff said anything to me. Scuttlebutt travels fast, and I’ll wager most of the crew knows about your wife. They know you, they like you, and frankly I think they hope this will pass, just like I do. I just wanted to say that I’m worried about you. I’m not here to talk Navy rules about what you’ve done; I’m here to make sure you personally are going to be alright.”

  Loren digested this, then looked at Elco. “I made a decision that I wouldn’t have made seven months ago. I sent a man to his death in order to get what I- what we, needed. I hope I can go back, Captain, I really do. I tell myself I will do anything required to save my wife, but part of me wonders if she’ll be meeting a different man than she remembers when this is over.”

  “Good.” Elco said simply. Loren looked at him in con
fusion, Elco continued. “You feel like you’ve done something wrong, you worry for yourself. That tells me your conscience is still in there; that the man I know is just working through something ugly. Take the morning off, Loren. I’m not saying this as a punishment, I’m saying you need some time away from your job. You need to take some time to think about Cassie and what you’ll say and do when you see her again.”

  Loren nodded and got up with the Captain, walking him to the door.

  “Captain,” Loren said before the man left. “Thank you.”

  “You’re a good man Loren, and I want to keep you around. Besides, I’ll threaten you with this: if you have a breakdown, I’ll promote Merritt or Web to XO and make you their steward.”

  “Frightening, Sir.”

  The Commander walked confidently through the halls of his new command center on Callidor. After the unexpected and embarrassing escape of Senator Dennix on Delos and the destruction of their DNA weapons infrastructure here on Callidor almost a month ago, the newly confirmed Commander Tash had made some changes. He’d called back some ships and ordered a complete fortification of the Callidor System. That included construction of his sprawling new headquarters building, where he was currently almost to his office space.

  It wasn’t simply ego that drove it. Commander Velk had been concerned with the military campaign and nothing else, while Tash knew administration of their new territories was just as important. It was an immense undertaking; bringing enough ships into the galaxy to take and pacify the major powers in an entire spiral arm, then keep pushing on. It had required the dedication of their entire civilization, and coordinating that effort required the enormous building he had commissioned as his headquarters.