Sol (The Silver Ships Book 5) (9 page)

“The surveillance room,” Nikki shouted when the message ended and broke into a run. Rebels jumped aside as Nikki raced down the corridors.

Over the decades, the rebels secreted vid cameras at key points in the outer ring to monitor the militia. Nikki found the tiny surveillance room packed tight with bodies and ordered the room cleared. She posted teams to monitor the cameras and call her when the Harakens, as the strangers referred to themselves, entered the station.

Hours later, Vic interrupted Nikki in a meeting. When she looked up at him, Vic nodded in the direction of the surveillance room, and Nikki excused herself to follow him out.

The surveillance room was crowded again, but the rebels made room for Nikki and Vic, having saved a pair of worn-out chairs at the console for them. It didn’t take long before the room began overheating as everyone waited anxiously for the moment when the Harakens appeared on the first camera. When they did, there were gasps and intakes of breath as the strangers walked undisturbed down a main corridor.

“Look at what they’re carrying,” one rebel said. “What fools bring plasma rifles on board a station?”

“The kind who means business,” another answered.

“Milt piss, will you look at the size of those people?” Jodlyne asked.

“Jodlyne, watch your mouth,” Vic reprimanded.

“But not all of them,” the group heard.

“Yeah, some look a little thin … but pretty,” another said.

“Pretty? Try exquisite,” someone added.

“Him,” Nikki said, touching the screen. “That’s this group’s leader. I don’t know if he’s the president we heard, but look how they’re protecting him.”

“Nikki, seriously?” Vic challenged. “You think these people’s president would land in the first wave? I’d take bets he wouldn’t.” No one took Vic up on his offer. Everyone was too busy staring at the monitors.

Silence reigned when the rebels saw the group they were watching stop at the militia’s doors. When the Harakens settled down to wait while the huge man assembled his machine, many of the rebels left to sit in the corridor and allow the small room to cool.

Inside the surveillance room, rebels were focusing on their favorite individuals on screen. Two tunnel rats were fixated on the man assembling the machine.

“Milt piss, Edmas. Look at the size of that one guy. He’s as big as a patrol boat,” Jodlyne whispered.

“Be safe to be around him,” Edmas whispered back, “Milts wouldn’t mess with us then.” The two rats snickered until they caught Vic’s scowl.

Two systems engineers switched a monitor to pick up a cam from an opposing direction to observe the machine being assembled. They whispered their conjectures to each other, one engineer guessing it was a breach explosive to blow the militia’s doors.

“Can’t be,” the other engineer whispered back. “They’re outnumbered by the militia six to one. They’d lose a straight-up fight unless they’re stupid enough to use those plasma rifles. Then you can kiss a big portion of the outer ring goodbye.”

“Here they go,” Vic announced later when the Harakens’ breach operation began. Those waiting in the corridor piled back into the room. But the rebels were forced to wait again when nothing extraordinary happened.

“Gas,” one engineer whispered to another. Unfortunately, in the tiny room, everyone heard him, and rebel blood was chilled.

“Milt piss,” Jodlyne whispered, and no one bothered to correct her.

Nikki wasn’t concerned with the machine or the machine’s maker. Her eyes followed the man she thought was the group’s leader and watched him lead the exotic woman to the corridor’s edge, settle down against a bulkhead, and throw an arm around her as she snuggled next to him.
You’re one vacuum-chilled customer,
she thought.

When the Harakens’ operations resumed, the militia’s doors slid open without fanfare. Doubt and confusion spread through the rebels. Visibility into the administration area was limited, and although the pinhead cameras couldn’t transmit audio, the militia could be seen alive and well behind their barricade.

“There goes any chance of rescue,” Vic stated soberly when he saw the major shout and the militia raise their weapons to fire.

Nothing happened, and the strangers walked in slowly, with weapons slung. The rebels broke out in loud discussions, and Nikki raised her hand, which triggered Vic’s shout for silence.

“Watch carefully, everyone,” Nikki said. “There’s more going on here than we’re thinking. Let’s learn what we can.”

In the next moment, they watched the major and then the captain jump into view and crumple to the deck.

“What hit them?” an engineer asked.

“Didn’t see anything,” another rebel replied.

The rebels were glued to the monitors, watching the situation unfold. At the door to the surveillance room, someone was whispering updates to those in the corridor, and the messages were passed along to the hundreds who had abandoned their jobs to learn firsthand about the strangers.

Despite expectations, nothing resembling a fight occurred. But curiosity became disappointment when they witnessed Lieutenant Morris shake the hand of the Haraken leader, eliciting groans from most in the room.

“Bastards, they’re joining the milts,” Vic swore softly.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Nikki said thoughtfully. “Let’s wait and see.” She wasn’t sure that Vic wasn’t right, but it was her job to keep her people calm.

After neutralizing the militia, Alex’s mind was churning with ideas as to how to achieve his goal. He ordered the UE scientists transferred from the
No Retreat
. When they disembarked from a traveler, they were escorted to Alex by troopers with slung plasma rifles, not that any of them would have considered firing the deadly weapons and not that the station people would ever know that.

The rifles were carried for their intimidation factor in hopes of preventing the foolish from starting a fight, especially since the Harakens considered the UE forces as prime examples of fools. But, just in case, every trooper carried a stun gun set to maximum.

Alex requested Cordelia and Z find suitable headquarters and asked Julien to remain for an extended discussion, which caused Julien a moment of anxiety. The protective teams were disbanding except for a small one remaining with Alex, Renée, and Tatia.

Cordelia sent to him and Z,

Z added.

Julien and Cordelia were witnessing ever more blending of the Miranda Leyton persona, Z’s undercover femme fatale alternative, in Z’s mannerism. The change was welcomed, but it gave both SADEs pause to wonder how much their personalities might be evolving.

“Julien,” Alex said, interrupting their communication, “I need an in-depth analysis of this station. The core question is: How do we reinvigorate this place? After Cordelia and Z locate us a headquarters, pull them into your analyses.”

“Do I understand that you wish this station to become a profitable, working enterprise, Mr. President?” Julien asked.

“Precisely, Julien,” Alex said, laying a comradely hand on Julien’s shoulder.

“You do realize, Mr. President, that when the SADEs backed your initiative to come to Sol, our reliance on your strategic thinking was predicated on more than discovering you have chosen to become a station operator.” Without waiting for a reply, Julien headed for the militia’s administrative office, and two troopers fell in beside him. A straw panama formed over Julien’s head, reminiscent of a millennium-ago, Earth plantation owner, and one trooper grinned at the other as he flicked his eyes toward Julien’s head.

Julien walked into the militia’s administrative headquarters and sought out Lieutenant Morris.

In the few hours since the Harakens’ absence, the militia had returned the place to its original condition, storing their crowd-control rifles, although they still carried their stunstiks.

“What do your men intend to do with those, Lieutenant,” Julien asked, nodding toward a corporal who held his stunstik in front of him.

“We … we might have need …” Morris began, and then stumbled to a halt. “Sergeant Diaz!” she shouted.

“Ma’am,” the sergeant said, coming to attention in front of her.

“Our guests don’t appreciate us carrying our stunstiks as batons. Store them, Sergeant,” Morris ordered.

Sergeant Diaz glanced only briefly toward the plasma rifles slung on the Harakens’ shoulders and shouted, “Store all stunstiks, now!”

“You realize, mister … um —” Morris began.

“The name is Julien. No mister. Just Julien, Lieutenant.”

“You realize, Julien, that we’ll be at the mercy of the rebels,” Morris said.

“Haven’t they been at your mercy, Lieutenant?” Julien asked. “It does make for an argument that the first step one should take when meeting other individuals is their treatment with the best of intentions. It prevents the whole retaliation mindset; don’t you agree?” Julien didn’t allow the lieutenant to ponder his statements before he said, “Now, Lieutenant, I require a complete overview of the station’s economic operations. Might we have the privacy of an office?”

Julien queried Lieutenant Morris for more than an hour, developing an overview of the station’s operations, fee basis, and credit flow. What he learned was that the station was practically impoverished. The fees for docking, bays, and ship services that were intended to maintain the station were confiscated by the militia with the majority of the funds funneled back to Earth.

Furthermore, since the militia took over the station, freighter and passenger liner stops had dropped to less than half of their high, from decades ago, so as to prevent adding to the UE’s coffers. Instead, ships often met in the deep dark and used shuttles to exchange people and cargo. It was a time-consuming and dangerous process, but the alternative was unforgivable to many captains.

While Julien and Morris were talking, Major Lindling burst through the office door with Captain Yun right behind him. They were brought up short by the stun guns, which were stuck in their faces.

“Troopers, stand down,” Julien ordered calmly.

“I’m the commanding officer aboard this station. You people need to deal with me,” Major Lindling huffed.

“Other decisions were made in your absence, Major,” Julien replied. “My president put Lieutenant Morris in charge.”

Patrice Morris, who had jumped up when the major plowed through the door, eyed Lindling, then Julien, unsure of what to do or say. So she stood still and kept her mouth shut.

“What do you mean in my absence? You people shot me,” the major declared.

“Circumstances which you precipitated, Major, or did you not jump the barricade to attack my president?”

“If you think you can get away —” Major Lindling started to say, but the words died in his mouth. One moment the man he was speaking to was sitting relaxed in an office chair and before Lindling could utter his next word, the man was standing in front of him nose to nose. Lindling heard an intake of breath from his captain behind him.

Julien studied the major’s face for a moment, letting the fear he generated sink in. “I knew a man like you once, Major. He went by the name of Clayton Downing. I didn’t like him either. Now, you have a choice, Ser. Work under Lieutenant Morris’s direction or we’ll find a nice, quiet place to stow you while we’re here, but I warn you we might be here quite a while.”

Major Lindling scowled and then loosed a low growl as he exited the office.

“How about you, Captain?” Julien asked.

“I’m happy to take guidance from Lieutenant Morris, Sir,” Captain Yun said, still trying to process how the human moved so incredibly and uncannily fast. His movement was one thing, but his stop in front of the major was frighteningly sudden and still.
Maybe we only think they’re human,
Yun thought.

“Take a seat, Captain,” Morris directed as she sat back down. “Julien has questions for us about the station’s financial operations. I’m sure that you could add to the discussion.”

The two militia officers had just sat back down when they watched the straw hat on Julien’s head disappear and a felt fedora replace it.

Julien gave the militia officers a nasty grin. “I do hope that if the major causes any problems or foments an insurrection against the lieutenant’s command, it will be dealt with quickly.” He was pleased to see both officers nodding vigorously.
I had better warn Alex about the major,
Julien thought.

Nikki, Vic, and several other rebels took turns monitoring the Harakens around the clock for a full day. They thought their surveillance was being conducted in secret until one of the Harakens, the one wearing a strange head cover, went past a hidden cam, looked up at it, and winked.

“That can’t be a coincidence,” Vic said. “Do they know we’re watching?”

“I suspect they know and don’t care,” Nikki said.

“Look at that far monitor on the right,” a rebel said. “The one with those two milts.”

The room’s occupants leaned over to peer at two troopers, who stripped off their uniform shirts, exposing the top of their unitards.

“What are they doing?” Vic asked.

“Those two have been standing beside that resurfacer for the longest. I think they’re reading the instructions.”

The room burst into laughter at the image of the two troopers bent over a tablet and flicking through pages.

“I don’t see a primer machine,” said another rebel. “Do you think they would be stupid enough to start resurfacing the bulkheads without stripping and priming first?”

“These are milts,” Vic replied, an undercurrent of anger evident. “Who knows what they’re capable of screwing up.”

Suddenly the central monitor’s view of the militia’s admin doors blanked, and the man Nikki had identified as a Haraken group leader appeared on the screen. His voice issued from the room’s speakers, which were part of the station’s comms system.