Black Box (15 page)

Bonamo looked confused by the question. He
hadn’t reported anything of the sort. “No, sir.”

Then how the hell do you know Cummings
fired first?
Beckett wanted to scream. “You reported that the
first shots came from Mr. Cummings.”

“Oh. Yes, sir.”

“You also reported that you heard the laser
discharge.”

“That’s correct, sir. Three shots, I
think.”

“And then you say Sergeant Rodrigo
fired.”

“Three volleys, sir. I’m sure of that.”

Hardy was getting impatient. “Bonamo, how do
you know it was Cummings who fired?”

If Beckett was perturbed by the
interruption, he gave no sign.

For a moment, Bonamo was confused by the
question. Then it dawned on him, exactly what they were asking.
“Sir, it was Cummings’ weapon that I heard. Even if I weren’t a
weapons expert, I would be able to identify the difference between
a hand gun and a rifle.”

Hardy knew every crew member’s service
record word for word. That was his job. “What makes you a weapons
expert, son?”

Bonamo suddenly dressed himself in the
expression of the cat who ate the canary. He stammered a moment
before the captain snapped.

“Out with it!”

Beckett wasn’t sure what it was that was
upsetting him so much. Either it was Bonamo’s roundabout way of
answering questions or the fact that Bonamo’s answers were damning
to Rodrigo.

The young man drummed his fingers against
each other briefly, then whispered his answer. “I took the
Sight
and Sound
exams, sirs.”

“So?”

Lots of young cadets, especially infantry,
opted to take the
Sight and Sound
exams. They were a
voluntary exercise, designed to determine whether a soldier could
identify weapons in combat. This skill had various uses, including
avoidance of friendly fire and threat assessment. The test was
comprised of several parts, the main ones being able to identify
weapons by views of parts, being able to identify weapons by sound,
being able to identify weapons by ammunition. The weapons tested
varied from United Earth armaments, past and present, through
pirated weapons, New Earth weapons, and even eXchengue weapons. The
average score was below thirty percent. Beckett himself had taken
the exams and scored just under forty percent. That, however, was a
long time ago. And the knowledge base of eXchengue weapons had been
much smaller then.

“What was your score?” Hardy asked
suddenly.

Bonamo swallowed hard. “I scored ninety six
percent, sir.”

Beckett looked at him. “Did you say ninety
six percent?”

Bonamo nodded.

That score was
not
in his service
record. Even if Hardy hadn’t known that right off the bat, Beckett
would have noticed a score that high. It had to be almost
double
the highest score on record. And it would have
guaranteed Bonamo a place in the infantry, on the front lines of
every combat action they could get him into. The only question was
how it had been removed.

But that was a matter for another time.

Unless he was lying.

“That’ll be all, Mr. Bonamo.”

Somewhat stunned, the soldier just sat where
he was, his fingers lightly tapping against the table.

Beckett looked at him, his patience
draining. “I said that will be all!”

Bonamo jumped in his seat, then stood
quickly, muttering a
yes, sir
and a
sorry, sir
.
Glancing only once at the crew chief, he made a hasty exit.

The two men sat in silence for a while,
Beckett stewing over what he’d just heard. His instincts told him
to have Bonamo tied up and flayed until he told the truth, but
there was something in the back of his mind that warned him of the
implications of the young soldier’s report.

“Cummings could not have fired first,” Hardy
said finally. “He never missed.”

“I know that.”

“And if Rodrigo fired Cummings’ weapon, then
she’s lying about it.”

“I know that, too.”

“So either she’s lying or Bonamo’s
lying.”

Beckett finally looked up with just his
eyes. “I know that, Hardy.”

The chief nodded. “Well then. What is it
that you don’t know, Captain?”

“I don’t know how it all fits together. I
don’t know what she’s covering up or why she’s doing it? If this is
the same enemy that wiped out Walker…”

“Did you ever think, Captain, that this has
nothing to do with Walker?”

Beckett thought about that a moment. “I
don’t follow you.”

“What if there is no Walker? What if there
was
no black box?”

“What the hell does that mean? I’ve been
listening to the logs…”

“Logs are easily manufactured.”

“Then what the hell are we doing out here,
Hardy?”

The Crew Chief shrugged. “Should I get the
sergeant in here?”

With a sigh, Beckett nodded.

Tackling Rodrigo was going to be tough. If
Beckett took her on, she’d know that either Tedesco or Bonamo had
reported a contradiction. She’d understand the serious nature of
the conflict right away and begin concocting an alibi. Either that
or she’d accuse him of lying outright or being plain wrong. Without
that test score in his record, Bonamo would have no defense against
her allegations and his career would be ruined. If he was lying, he
deserved it. If he was simply reporting the facts as he knew them,
it was Beckett’s job to protect him.

The captain fed the satellite records to the
screen near Rodrigo’s seat. She looked at the picture, a shot of
the area just before the feed had been lost. She could see hers and
Cummings’ blips. Beckett played it forward from his own station. He
moved it at half speed. Cummings’ blip moved ever so slightly. Then
Rodrigo’s. Then they were gone.

She looked up, a question in her eyes.

Beckett returned her look, then went back to
the computer. He backed it up to the spot just before the feed had
been lost.

“Can you demonstrate your orientation when
this feed went out?”

Her brow crinkled. “I was facing forward,
into the trees. Cummings was behind me, moving in the same
direction.”

“So you didn’t actually see him get
shot?”

She shook her head.

“And the blast came from where?”

“Directly ahead of me.”

“The beam shot past you and hit
Cummings?”

“That’s right. He was hit in the chest.”

“And you?”

“I rolled to the side and took a hit in the
shoulder.”

Her shirt covered the bandages, but he had
seen her when they had gotten back to the
Valor.
There had
been blood on her arm and blood seeping through the field dressing.
There was also a bandage on her left hand, wrapped tightly within
her clenched fist.

He played the satellite feed again, looked
for the point where she dived. If what she said was true then they
would have lost her signal before losing the whole feed because her
chip was destroyed when she’d gotten hit in the shoulder.

“When was the first shot fired?”

Rodrigo breathed loudly. “The beam that hit
Cummings…”

“…was a laser beam. Laser beams don’t
interrupt a satellite feed.”

She stopped speaking for two reasons. The
first was that he had interrupted her. The second was that she was
just now understanding what he was doing. She did not look guilty.
She did not look hurt. She looked angry.

“What’s this all about, Ted? Are you
questioning my report?”

And just like that, she had put him on the
defensive. “There are just a few…”

“Because we’ve been friends too fucking long
for you to put me on the witness stand like this.”

But she should never have interrupted
him
. And she should never have played the friendship card so
soon. It made him think that she was attempting to manufacture the
guilt he felt. And he did not like being manipulated.

Without taking his eyes off of Rodrigo, he
addressed the Crew Chief. “Can you excuse us, Mr. Hardy?”

If Hardy was surprised by the request, he
gave no indication of it. Knowing his place, he simply stood and
left the room.

Beckett waited precious seconds after the
chief was gone before speaking. He knew Rodrigo well, too well. She
was almost too close for him to read accurately. But her expression
never changed. And she never took her eyes from his. He found it
extremely difficult to believe she was guilty of anything. But he
also found impossible to give in. A simple investigation had now
turned into a war between comrades.

“We
have
been friends a long time,
Anabelle.” There was a knife edge to his voice, something Rodrigo
had heard only when his words were directed at someone else. She
waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t. He just looked
at her, waiting.

“So?” she said, finally.

“So tell me which shot took out the
satellite feed.”

“The same shot that took out Cummings.”

“Lasers don’t interrupt satellite
transmissions. You know that.”
Or do you?

This was the second time that he had made
that point and it would be the second time that she responded with
anger. “How dare you? Did you rake Tedesco and Bonamo over the
coals like this or is this treatment reserved for your
friends?”

“Stop dodging the question.”

“What question?”

"
Who fired the first shot?!"

In her righteous anger, she had
almost…
almost
…put Beckett off of his attack. But he, too,
was arrogant and self righteous. Instead of backing down, he
employed a tactic which had served him in the past. He took that
intimidation that he felt, the awe of being in the presence of
someone who was better at what she did than he would ever be at
anything
, and he turned it into fuel for his own rage.

Now she faced him and knew that he would not
give up until he had an answer that satisfied him. She searched for
something to say but came up with nothing. No need. Beckett was
ready to press his advantage.

"Did Cummings fire his weapon at all?"

"Ted…" she began.

"Did Cummings shoot?"

She dropped her head. "How did you know
that?"

So it was true after all. "I checked his
gun," Beckett lied. It was best, he thought, to keep Bonamo out of
this. In fact, he had never thought to check the weapon and by then
it was too late. "Did he shoot first?"

She said nothing, but he felt his anger
disappearing. He could see by the look on her face that she was
defeated. She would tell him what he wanted to know eventually. He
just had to press.

"Anabelle, what are you hiding? Why did he
shoot? What did he hit?"

Her eyes clenched tightly and what Beckett
saw, he did
not
like. Rodrigo, for all of her faults and
lack of qualifications, was an icon in the Space Force. Before his
very eyes, she was transformed into something so much less than the
woman he had known.

"He didn't hit anything," she said, muscles
taut.

"That's impossible. Cummings never missed.
Ever."

"Ted, he wasn't shooting at anything. He
just got spooked and fired into the jungle. I think…I think he drew
the sniper to us. When I looked at him, I thought he was about to
panic. And then he was dead and it all went to hell."

It was almost plausible. He knew how Rodrigo
had felt about Cummings, despite the constant ribbing. In the wake
of his death, she would have wanted to protect his reputation,
especially if his final act had been disgraceful. Honor and respect
were important things to her. She was a classic warrior.

He was so tempted to take her at her word.
It accounted for all of the inconsistencies including her
unwillingness to come clean. He could walk away from this with no
hard feelings and still have his friend and mentor. And he could
justify it, too, if only he believed her.

For a moment, they stared at each other and
he felt her absorbing his doubt. She made no further attempt to
explain herself. In silence, they did as much damage to each other
as they might have done with words. They moved past the years of
trust and friendship. They moved past the point of reconciliation.
Ultimately, without a word between them, she moved past him and out
of the room.

Hardy came in seconds after Rodrigo had
departed. It had been just enough time for Beckett to sink into the
nearest chair and bury his head in his hands. There were tears on
his face and he kept his head down to hide them. He couldn’t
believe he had gone so far. It was supposed to have been a
lightweight interview just to see what information he could fish
out of her. He’d caught a boot and a tin can. And they were smelly
and rusty.

“Bad news?” Hardy asked.

“Just get out, Hardy.”

The chief didn’t respond, but when Beckett
looked up twenty minutes later, he was alone.

Beckett found Dr. Cabrera in the infirmary.
She was the very last person he wanted to see right now, but he
needed information and he was sure that she had some. Something had
been the catalyst for her earlier visit and he need to know what it
was now. A man was dead and he couldn’t shake the feeling that it
was all because of him. This mission, whatever it was, didn’t seem
to have anything to do with Nicholas Walker. At least he didn’t
think so. He’d listened to Walker’s logs and though they spoke of
an advanced race that had mutilated the crew with lasers, that had
been two hundred years before. There was no sign of a settlement on
the planet and the
Einstein’s
alleged landing site was clear
even of debris. None of it added up. So he was left with Hardy’s
assertion that there was no black box.

He entered the room quietly and without her
notice and waited in silence, just watching her work, trying to
gain control of his frustration. Failing. He didn’t know what she
was doing. There were no patients. Maybe she was taking
inventory.