Black Box (16 page)

Like all of the other rooms on the
Valor
, the infirmary was small. There were just two beds.
Anyone who needed to recuperate from an injury would do so in his
or her own bunk unless the injury was particularly severe. Along
the far wall were a number of cabinets which Beckett knew held
medical instruments and drugs. He had inspected the whole thing
himself before disembarking, but that was a formality that he felt
was a waste of time. He didn’t know what the majority of the stuff
was and had had to rely on Cabrera’s word anyway. On his right was
a bench on which the doctor was currently working. It ended partway
along the wall where there was a doorway. Beyond that doorway was a
medical lab but it was ill equipped, used primarily for the testing
of toxins and possibly diseases. No one was using that lab to cure
cancer.

Beckett cleared his throat.

Startled, Cabrera turned, almost dropping a
glass beaker.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people,” she
said.

He grunted in reply, wanting to say
something clever. This was no time for pleasantries, though.

“Did you treat Rodrigo’s wounds?”

Cabrera shook her head. “It was Soames.”

Belinda Soames was a medical technician that
had just been assigned to the
Valor
. She had filled the
empty spot on the medical roster that had been made when Paul Royce
had been transferred off ship.

“What did you hear?”

Cabrera looked puzzled. “Burn wounds. The
shoulder wound was…”

Beckett shook his head. “What did you hear
about me?”

She went silent, cold. He could tell that
she understood him, but her lips thinned out around her mouth and
the color left them.

“You tell me, Samantha,” he said, his voice
raised.

“I don’t know anything, Captain.”

His face twisted and he stepped close to
her. “Don’t you lie to me. Do you think I’m fucking around with
you?”

She began to tremble a bit, fought to
control it. “Nothing but rumors, Ted. Nothing you probably haven’t
heard yourself.”

“Tell me,” he insisted.

“Paul was my mentor for a long time. Kind of
like you and Rodrigo.” She meant Paul Royce, the previous medical
officer on board the
Valor
. “But he was paranoid. He was
surly and anti-social, which is what landed him on this ship in the
first place. He’s spent his whole career waiting for the other shoe
to drop. When they transferred him off of the
Valor
, he was
sure that it finally had.”

“He didn’t ask for that transfer?”

She shook her head. “Believe it or not, he
liked it here. They sent him over to the
Noble
without any
explanation. But Paul knows a few people and he did a little
digging. It’s not him they’re after. It’s you.”

“Who’s they?”

“Don’t be obtuse,
Captain
. The
Admiralty
.”

“So how do they plan to get rid of me?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t even
know how much of it is true. But they transferred two of the
Force’s biggest yes men onto your boat as well as Admiral Tedesco’s
daughter.”

Shaking his head, Beckett started to laugh.
It was all becoming so clear. “It’s all a farce. Hardy was
right.”

“Sir?”

He looked at her. “Gear up, doctor. We’re
going off ship.”

She looked suddenly stricken, but he didn’t
seem to notice. He completed his instructions, giving her twenty
minutes to meet him at the airlock, and left the infirmary.

“Are you all right?” Dorian asked.

Beckett nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

It was a rare occasion indeed that Beckett
came to visit his executive officer in her cabin, the cabin she
shared with Samantha Cabrera. The cabin itself was akin to a
walk-in closet. It was slightly bigger than Beckett’s, with two
fold-out bunks and a single dressing area. There was little room
for personal affects. Samantha had a few, some pictures of family
tacked up on the side of her bunk. She had made a nightstand out of
a tiny footlocker. It was pushed up against the wall now, the
things on top fallen over. Beckett noticed an antique paperback
book.
The Color Purple.
He had never heard of it, wondered
if it was the kind of book he would enjoy.

“You don’t look fine,” Dorian said to him,
noting that he was paying more attention to Cabrera’s stuff. “Did
you come to see me or Samantha?”

He looked up, surprised a little. “You,
actually.” Suddenly, he felt squeezed in. If Hardy was right and
there was some mysterious conspiracy then Beckett couldn’t know who
was involved. If Rodrigo could turn against him, then anyone could.
How efficient was it for him to believe that Dorian was on his side
because she
looked
like she had no idea what he was going to
say?

“Allison, I need a favor.”

The word
favor
was out of context
coming from a superior officer. Subordinates asked for favors.
Peers asked for favors. Superiors issued orders. Did he need her to
do his laundry?

He continued. “I’m going to be going off
ship.”

“Do you want me to put together an
expedition roster for you?” That was a veiled question. Normally,
it was Hardy’s job to put together the roster. Since it was an
off-the-record expedition, it was actually Beckett’s job. Dorian
just wanted more information. Truth to tell, Beckett would never
have guessed that she’d be that curious.

He shook his head. “That’s not it.”

“What is it then?”

He hesitated, bad for a captain,
unprecedented for Captain Beckett. “Only two people on board will
know that we’ve gone.”

“Who’s the other person?” she asked,
betraying no surprise.

“Chief Hardy. If anything should happen,
he’s the only person you can confer with openly.”

This surprised her. She had expected it
would be Rodrigo, but, of course, Rodrigo would be included in the
expedition. “When will you be going?”

“Immediately.”

She nodded. “You only have about an hour and
a half of daylight, you know.”

“It’ll be enough.”

“For what?”

He started to answer, checked himself. It
was too much information to give with too little information in
possession. If Dorian was as uninformed as she appeared, her lack
of knowledge would not prevent her from doing her job. If she was
in on the conspiracy, if in fact a conspiracy even existed, then
let her keep guessing.

“I’m due in Control in about ten minutes,”
he said. “I’ll need you to take that shift.”

“Of course, sir.”

And he left the room.

With only ninety minutes of daylight,
Beckett didn’t have time to waste. Not knowing who to trust was
going to force him to keep the number of expedition participants
low. He was planning on taking Cabrera and Bonamo only. Inviting
Cabrera, if you could call it an invitation, had happened in the
heat of the moment, but he didn’t regret it. Maybe there wasn’t any
more she could tell him. Either way, he wanted her close. Next, he
needed to find out where Bonamo was. Hardy always had the current
duty roster on his reader and Hardy always kept his whereabouts
known to the captain.

“Bonamo’s off duty,” Hardy confirmed. “He’s
either in the barracks or in the toilet because he doesn’t eat at
this time and the rest of the squad seems to be giving him the cold
shoulder.”

“Do they know about his report?”

Hardy shook his head. “Not likely. Those
reports are sealed. Captain, department head, and Crew Chief. Do
you really think Boone took the time to look it over?”

At the moment, Beckett didn’t think he could
trust Boone to be his usual lazy and incompetent self. His behavior
had been so different on this voyage that Beckett could hardly
discount him as being involved in the conspiracy. Even if Boone
hadn’t looked at the reports, that didn’t keep Bonamo safe. Once
they got home, the
Admiralty
would have a look at them and
the young soldier would be a hero or a pariah.

“You need to take one more soldier with
you,” the Chief continued.

“They’re all under Rodrigo’s command.”

“Technically, they’re under Boone’s command.
Regardless of who fired first, though, there’s still some nut out
there with a laser gun. Bonamo just won’t cut it.”

“Maybe I’ll take Boone, then.”

Hardy shook his head. “I don’t recommend it.
Boone doesn’t like you. He doesn’t like Rodrigo either but I
wouldn’t put it past him to side with the
Admiralty
over
you.”

Beckett thought about it. He knew all of his
crew by name and by reputation and many of the older ones
personally. He didn’t care for MacDonald. Alraune was the best
shot, but she was both unpredictable and an asshole. Knudson shared
the latter two qualities without bothering to have anything close
to the first. That was the trouble with Beckett’s crew. Rookies and
bastards.

“Burbank,” Hardy said when he was sure that
Beckett was having trouble with the decision.

The captain made a face. “Isn’t she a little
too anxious?”

“And green,” Hardy agreed. “This is her
first flight and she’s been bumping into herself. But I started
tracking her as soon as we made port and I’ve been keeping an eye
on her throughout the duration of the flight. Limited contact with
the others. She’s friendly with Malouf and has some sort of
affection for Klon.” Malouf was another navigator with a lot of
years of service. Klon was a deck hand, had no rank and never
would. He was more of a grizzly old codger than Hardy. “She’s clean
and that’s what we’re looking for.”

“Fine,” Beckett agreed. “Where is she?”

Hardy smiled an ugly smile. “She’s suited up
and waiting by the airlock.”

Bonamo was fast asleep and Cabrera had to be
replaced by Soames so, all in all, they didn’t get under way until
another twenty minutes had gone by. Beckett wasn’t quite sure how
he was going to get past the soldier on duty at the air lock, but
that turned out to be no problem since the soldier on duty was
Burbank, just as Hardy had promised. Taking her with him meant no
guard, but Beckett was sure that Hardy would have that covered as
well.

The shadows were lengthening even as they
started off through the jungle. For all but Bonamo, this was their
first time outside the ship. No matter how many times a person
visits another planet, he can always tell that it’s just not home.
Even for a veteran such as Beckett, his senses became heightened
and he became aware of sounds and smells that he took for granted
in familiar surroundings. Though the great leafed plants could be
equated to giant ferns, they were not ferns and they all noticed
the stringy blue veins running through the leaves.

Beckett kept them moving at an accelerated
pace, well aware of his battle with the clock. He was relying on
the satellite recordings stored on his reader for the general route
and would later turn to Bonamo for specific locations.

The jungle grew up around them like an
overly green blanket. Even the tree trunks were more green than
brown. The bark was mostly covered in moss, but the exposed areas
seemed to have a soft wet look to them too. Bonamo confirmed that
they were following the general route taken by the first
expedition. Beckett kept his eyes on his reader. Cabrera looked at
the fauna and became excited every time she caught a glimpse of a
native animal. It seemed to her that symmetry was definitely the
exception rather than the rule. In the meantime, the two foot
soldiers kept their eyes everywhere.

“Sir?”

Beckett looked up at Burbank’s summons. She
indicated a spot a few feet to their left. The grass and fernlike
bushes surrounding the trees had been scorched. A short pole stood
sticking out of the ground. It was supposed to have a head with an
antenna but the head had been blown off and the jutting wires were
blackened.

“What…is that a communications relay?”
Cabrera asked.

It was. It was the first one Bonamo had
hammered in. It also explained why communications had gone out so
abruptly. Approaching it cautiously, Beckett studied the scene.
Without a full forensics examination there wasn’t much that he
could determine. The only prints around the relay were Bonamo’s
own. Even Beckett could tell the shape and pattern of a UESF
standard issue boot. The relay itself was still firmly hammered in
so it was clear that nothing had hit it. So what had caused it to
combust?

“A short circuit could cause damage
internally,” Burbank suggested.

Damage was one thing, but the relay was
destroyed.

“Sabotage?” Bonamo asked.

Beckett nodded. That’s just what he’d been
thinking. He did not like the direction in which this investigation
was taking him.

“Let’s move on.”

They shortly reached the spot where the two
groups had split and the young foot soldier stood quietly for a few
moments while he got his bearings.

“I’m trying to remember,” he said by way of
explanation. “We kind of changed positions during the
argument.”

“What argument?” Beckett said shortly. He
was unaware of an argument.

Bonamo reddened. “Oh, well, the sergeant
first wanted to go off alone. She was pretty adamant about it, but
the lieutenant disagreed.”

Appearing to dismiss the new information,
Beckett motioned impatiently for Bonamo to lead them on. “I want to
see the spot where Cummings was shot.”

Bonamo looked around again for a minute, and
then pointed. “It’s over that way. It’s not that far.”

They moved on, Bonamo stopping briefly in an
effort the get his bearings. He was going strictly based on memory,
having no skill at tracking. Eventually, though, they reached the
spot and he stood aside so Beckett could take it in.

Where they were was a small and narrow
clearing between the trees. There was enough room for two or three
people to stand abreast but it was long enough to space them out
front to back. The trees there looked like the trees everywhere
else, except for the far side of the clearing where the soil and
plants had been trampled and pushed aside, presumably victims of
Rodrigo’s charge. Close to the spot where they entered, there was a
patch of ash and dried blood. That was where Cummings had died.
Beckett checked the satellite recording to try and get a fix on
Rodrigo’s position. He moved over to where Cummings would have been
standing when the beam hit him. He was hit full in the chest so it
would have had to come from nearby with the sniper likely on the
ground. Finding the sniper’s location could be important, but he
didn’t want anyone wandering around the site until he had finished
his own preliminary investigation. Behind him, the other three
stood and watched.