The Alpha Choice (58 page)

‘That the enemy hasn’t even travelled outside their solar system.’

Gorn tried to remain impassive. ‘Where did you hear that?’

‘Oh, it came from one of the shock-troopers, Blaanud.’ Gorn knew that Blaanud, from an old colonial family, had served with Darl on his last command, and it was likely he got the information from the commander directly. It validated his earlier thoughts on the topic, but knowing that did not help his friend. Neither did knowing what part Genir had played in the sleight of hand that was the asteroid. The real reason behind the question was probably a combination of what Genir had heard, and what he knew, with the emphasis on the latter.
 

‘I’ll find out what I can, but I’m surprised you want to know, orders and all that. What will you do if you find out the rumours are true?’

‘Honestly? I’ve no idea, it isn’t what I signed up for, but like you said, orders are orders
.
It would be easier if you find out it’s all nonsense,’ Genir replied.
 

Now who’s being disingenuous,
thought Gorn. ‘The Commander won’t like it if he finds out what I’m doing, but I’ll do it anyway.’ The haunted look had not departed his friend’s face. ‘There’s something else, isn’t there?’
 

Genir began to fidget while managing to avoid eye contact.
 

Hoping to prompt a response, Gorn added. ‘So I’m right, there is a problem.’
 

‘It’s difficult…I don't know what to say…we’ve never kept secrets from each other, but I’m not supposed to say anything,’ he trailed off.

Gorn knew precisely where this was leading, or more precisely not leading, and thought it ironic that this secret
paled against what he was keeping from his only friend.
Perhaps,
he thought,
this is the turmoil true friends go through in situations like this? If that’s right, what does it make me?
Genir would soon break his oath if Gorn did not speak out. ‘Look, you have your orders, and friendship doesn’t come into it.’
 

His troubled friend tried to speak, but Gorn raised his hand. ‘We’re in the service, and don’t always get to do what we want,’ Genir slowly brought himself to look at the other, as if forcing himself to accept the logic. ‘Now,’ Gorn continued, ‘if you still want to tell me when it’s all over, whatever
it
is, and you're not going to get yourself into trouble, then I’ll be more than happy to listen.’
 

While Genir could not bring himself to smile, a trace of relief was etched into his face.
 

Ω

Back in his own quarters, Gorn lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He had not figured Genir into his equations. The questions, and the
secret
mission were going to create problems, to which he could see no solutions. As for the request, he was convinced it was not meant to be taken seriously, and anyway he had no intention of acting on his promise. One thing was certain, his friend could not be allowed to know the truth before his plans unfolded, and probably not ever.

Ω

Genir was still sitting where Gorn had left him. The one thing he could not confide in him, was what was keeping him awake at night. The sight of the Defenders moving away from him, Te’an ships! One of them should have been enough to move the asteroid shard, using a repulsor field. For the nth time since the mission he asked himself,
where were their own ships, why were they using ours…how did they get them,
and most importantly,
why were we helping them?
For the nth time, he had no answers, and the only person who would be able to find out was in the dark about the asteroid mission.

Soon, he would be called upon to go into battle against those same Defenders. He would be the first to admit he was far from the smartest on board, but even he knew there was something very wrong. The commander’s threats were not very well veiled; he could not tell anyone what he was doing, otherwise, his family would not enjoy the consequences. No specific mention was made of his father, but bearing in mind what he knew about Gallsor, perhaps his father was not a passport to safety; there would be many who thought his actions, all those years ago were wrong, perhaps Commander Darl was one of them.

He had no idea how he was going to sort this out, but one thing was certain, Gorn could not be allowed to know the truth before the plans, he had yet to make, unfolded and probably not ever.
 

Δ

Looking through the small, reinforced glass panel, Jon and Emily saw two Secret Service men in dark grey suits standing in the corridor, either side of a door marked ‘Conference Room 201’.
So that’s the signing room,
thought Jon. He could see at least one security camera and guessed there would be more. Whatever they did would soon be discovered by the Te. Trading looks with Emily, they gave each other reassuring but nervous smiles, before opening the door. The moment they stepped into the corridor, each of the Special Agents produced an automatic handgun, trained upon a selected newcomer.

‘Please stand absolutely still, and raise your hands above your heads, so we can see them,’ commanded one of the men, the older of the two, aged about thirty-five. The armed men separated, so as to avoid presenting an easy target, and advanced steadily towards the interlopers. As they approached, the older one said in a steady, firm voice. ‘Keeping your hands above your heads, slowly turn and face up against the wall with your feet spread far apart. Please do not talk with each other, and do nothing sudden which may necessitate the use of force.’

The Special Agents searched them with a cool and efficient detachment. The younger of the two, while discreet and respectful, did not stand on ceremony when it came to searching a woman.
 

Emily had been right, the Artefact remained undiscovered.

Once the searchers were satisfied that neither intruder possessed weapons, of any kind, they radioed the incident to their control. Within a minute, a dozen additional Secret Service personnel arrived. Six of the new arrivals split off to take charge of Jon and Emily, three men for Jon, two men with a very wiry, strong looking woman for Emily. With the benefit of reinforcements, the prisoners were firmly, but respectfully turned around to face the security detail.

Following behind the Secret Service arrivals, was a much smaller group, consisting of three men dressed in black Italian suits, and a woman, who would probably be in her early thirties, dressed elegantly but formally, which was the description Jon would have attached to the woman, herself. She had a look that would not be out of place in the fashion houses of Paris, exceedingly attractive, but also very businesslike. Neither she, nor her companions introduced themselves.

The elder of the original agents spoke out of hearing with, what Jon took to be, the senior agent present, who in turn spoke into a wrist com. This seemed to prompt the opening of the conference doors, through which stepped a stocky man with cropped grey hair, flanked on either side by another two Special Agents. The man walked straight up to Jon, gave Emily a cursory glance, before looking directly into Jon's eyes and asking. ‘Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?’
 

‘My name is James Rendell and this,’ he indicated by inclining his head towards Emily, ‘is Rachel Johnston, Mr. Black’s niece. We were hoping to see him…’ he paused. ‘We
are
expected.’

The man with grey hair nodded to the senior Special Agent, who stepped forward and presented the ids that had been removed from the intruders. Grey Hair looked hard at what was in front of him, a pair of British passports and photographic driving licences. Jon got the impression the man was trying to burrow into the documents.

Eventually, the ids were handed back to the agent then, levelling his flint hard stare to Emily, Grey Hair said, in a coolly level voice. ‘You're British.’

‘Scottish, actually,’ she replied without any hint of fear.’

‘Yet, you say you’re the niece of Hugo Black?’

‘My mother moved to Scotland with my father, before I was born.’

‘I wasn’t aware of any sister in Scotland,’ he nodded to the agent holding the documents, who silently moved out of sight, taking from his belt what looked to be a very small satellite phone.

Grey Hair looked at Jon. ‘And who are you, his brother?’

Jon replied, in a voice that was as calm as he could manage. ‘I’m just a friend of Rachel’s, nothing more.’

The question and answer session halted. Clearly, Grey Hair wanted this matter resolved as quickly as possible. The interrogator looked from Emily to Jon and back. The only sound from all those present, were the whispered sounds from the Special Agent, speaking into his satellite phone.

At last, the telephone conversation ended and everyone, except the stoic Secret Service men and women, looked over to the caller who, in turn looked at Grey Hair and nodded once.
   

For some moments the interrogator continued to look at the agent, as though weighing things in his mind then, slowly turning, he fixed his attention on Jon. ‘Even if those documents prove who you are, they don’t prove what you are. Until then, you’ll be placed in a secure room, under armed guard.’ No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the elegant woman, who until now had remained silent, said in a soft but authoritative voice. ‘Mr Wye, I can vouch for these persons, Mr Black was expecting to see his niece and her friend, albeit not under armed guard,’ she gave the man no opportunity to respond, ‘but don’t concern yourself, I will tell him myself where he can expect to find them,’ she paused, before adding, ‘of course the time he will need to resolve this matter will undoubtedly delay the ceremony, but I have no doubt you can explain that to the President. Might I suggest a new time of three pm?’

Grey Hair’s jaw visibly clenched as he looked towards the source of the put-down. ‘This wasn’t on the itinerary submitted by your office,’ he said, through gritted teeth.

‘That,’ the woman responded sweetly, ‘is because they were due to arrive some days after the visit. I have no doubt they, like everyone else in the world, were curious about what is about to happen, and hoped to use a familial connection to get a grandstand view.’
 

Grey Hair looked at both Jon and Emily who responded with a vigorous nodding of their heads.

‘Then they’re your responsibility Ms Corcoran. I don’t want them getting under my feet, or within sight of the President,’ and with that, he nodded curtly to the holder of the ids, who promptly returned them to their owners then, turning on his heel, Grey Hair stormed back through the double doors and into the room he exited just minutes before. The Secret Service officers melted away, presumably returning from whence they came, with a well-oiled efficiency that impressed Jon.

In less than a minute, the only persons left were Jon, Emily, Liz and her entourage; the two original Special Agents had returned to guard duty outside the conference room.

The woman stepped up to the intruders and said, in a voice that could not be overheard. ‘Say nothing and follow me. I will tell you when you can speak,’ then, to Emily, she smiled and said, in a voice that was now easily discernible to all present. ‘Follow me Rachel, I will take you to a comfortable suite, where you can wait for your uncle.’

Liz set off at a surprisingly brisk pace, leaving Jon and, particularly Emily struggling to keep up, the silent Te’an agents had no difficulty in keeping pace. When they came to an elevator, she told the agents she would see Mr. Black’s niece the rest of the way, alone. At this, her escorts simply looked at each other, then walked away. Seconds later, and nine floors further down, she led Jon and Emily down a corridor, before stopping in front of a plain door, which she opened. Looking quickly up and down the corridor Liz ushered the two impostors into the room, and swiftly followed.

Once inside she sat down and indicated they should do likewise. ‘This room,’ she said, ‘is not monitored and so we can speak freely,’ she looked at each of them, in turn. ‘Who exactly are you, and why are you here?’

Δ

‘Before we say anything, perhaps you can tell us who we’re talking to,’ replied Jon.
 

‘I showed you her details on the computer,’ Emily said, ‘you mustn’t have been fully awake.’

‘I’m Liz Corcoran, Hugo Black’s personal assistant, is that enough information?’ Jon raised his eyebrows, more out of embarrassment than anything else, and Emily added. ‘When I checked out Black, it was obvious he doesn’t move without consulting her, and if she couldn’t be trusted, we wouldn’t be here now, would we?’

He looked from one woman to the other. Finally, he nodded then proceeded to tell Liz Corcoran everything, from the moment he woke up and met
Jane
, to their arrest just moments before. When he had finished, there was a short silence during which, he guessed, Liz was considering what she had heard, the silence was broken with a question. ‘May I see the Artefact?’

Jon removed it from inside his jacket pocket and handed her the felt-clad object. Bearing in mind its protective state, he wondered if she would even register its existence, but the Artefact ensured his fears were groundless. She unwrapped and held what, Jon had informed her, possessed unimaginable power, but it remained inert and uninteresting. ‘So this is what could save our planet?’ Within moments, it was rewrapped, and returned to him.

He could see that she was, as yet, unconvinced. Still looking at the woman, in whose giving lay the fate of mankind, he uncovered the Artefact and placed it on his open palm. Immediately, his hand was bathed in a soft glow. Liz was mesmerised until Jon placed the Artefact back into its cover; the light from the mysterious object faded, and was gone. She blinked her eyes and rubbed her fingers up and down her temples, before stepping back and saying. ‘I need to bring Mr Black to see you as soon as possible. He has to be made aware of what’s happening.’ She took a phone from her pocket and typed something into it.

Emily had watched the interchange between Jon and Liz and chose this time to speak up, injecting a cautionary note. ‘You seem to have accepted our story very quickly. For all you know the Artefact is a clever toy with a hidden switch, yet you’re prepared to have your boss undo everything he’s done, for what might be nothing more than a trick. I know we aren't in the strongest of positions here, but it seems very odd that you’re prepared to take us at face value. It’s even more surprising that you risked lying to that Neanderthal back there. What are you not telling us?’