The Last Flight of the Argus (12 page)

Ewing gave General Jurgens a crisp salute. Jurgens motioned for the Intelligence Officer to sit down.

“
What have you got?” he asked.

Ewing laid a small computer pad on Jurgens’ desk. Information flashed on the pad's screen.

“
We picked up someone making inquiries regarding flagged information.”

Jurgens nodded. Any search for information on the government’s main database was routed through another search engine installed by the military many years before. Flagged material related to undesirables, state secrets, or anything that might fall into the purview of military command was brought to the attention of those higher up on the information food chain.

“
Go on,” Jurgens said.

“
This inquiry came from the
Sandstorm
, a salvage ship operating outside the Erebus system. She is, according to our most recent information, docked in space station
Titus
.”

“
What was the inquiry?”

“
The ship's pilot, a man named Kelly Lang, asked for information on a Class 4 Scientific Probe with the serial number 11345-23400.”

“
And?”

“
When the captain of the
Sandstorm
made that inquiry, it triggered a warning message on our system. The message reads: Code Omega-Omega 3321.”

Jurgens’ face froze. He mumbled his thanks and motioned Ewing out of the room.

“
If you need anything else, please call me,” the Corporal said.

“
Thank you,” Jurgens replied.

When Ewing was gone Jurgens returned to his desk and read the information on the computer pad. He felt strong chills run down his back. The Omega-Omega codes hadn’t been used in a very, very long time. Certainly not since the Erebus war. Almost all references to them were deleted over the years. So why had the
Sandstorm’s
inquiry set off such a code?

“
Computer,” General Jurgens said, addressing the larger machine on his desk. “Open file code named Theta Omega 3321.”

“
Please enter security code.”

Jurgens did so.

For the next hour he read the information provided about the lost super juggernaut
Argus
. When he finished, he paged his secretary and told her to send all those kind, patient officers waiting to see him back to their respective offices. He would have no time for them today.

General Jurgens then called up the four members of the Council who were sympathetic to the military. He told them they had to call an emergency session right away.

He told them it involved the fate of the Epsillon Empire.

CHAPTER NINE

TITUS SPACE STATION, on the outer border of Erebus

The
Titus
space station served the Empire well as a listening post and a center for transportation of cargo in the years leading up to the Erebus War. She was the only remaining structure on the Epsillon side to survive the explosion that decimated that system. At the height of her golden age and just before that tragedy, she housed over one million citizens.

Today, after various upgrades, she was as large as a medium sized city. Yet in spite of her upgrades, she was a living anachronism. Shortly after the war, she was abandoned. Soon after that, and following years of negotiation with private interest groups,
Titus
was purchased by investors catering to historians, preservationists, and vacationers.

When it was clear the Erebus system was stable, the area became a point of interest to hundreds of thousands of tourists curious to see where what should have been the greatest galactic war started and, very abruptly, ended. The luxury crafts that brought tourists into this area needed a place to dock and
Titus
was the only station around.

Unknown to the tourists was the fact that deep within
Titus
operated a vast illegal salvage trade. Scavengers skirted the law and flew out into the remains of the system seeking any memorabilia that survived the war. They brought their finds to
Titus
to sell.

Far away from the main docking section and occupying a place by the common quarters was the refurbished Jackal Bar. Over time, it became the watering hole for those scavengers. They met and tried sniffing out where the latest hot spots for prospecting lay. Because of the illegal nature of their activities, talk was usually hushed and information well-guarded. Despite this, rumors had a tendency to spread like butter on hot toast.

When Kelly Lang walked into the bar, few paid attention to him. He was one of several dozen scavengers who filtered in and out of the place. He headed for his usual seat at the foot of the bar. It took great effort to contain a growing smile.

“
What do you want?” Dave Maddox, the Jackal Bar’s head bartender, asked. He was a short man in his late thirties that carried a slight build. His hair was jet black and his face a sturdy mask of neutrality.

“
The usual,” Lang replied.

“
You look kind of funny today,” Maddox said as he poured Lang a beer.

“
I’m fine,” Lang said, even as his voice told another story.

If Maddox noticed, he didn’t say. He acted as if their conversation was about nothing more than the too-steady artificial weather within the station. Maddox pulled a tin plate from the Food Dispenser and laid it before Lang. Lang removed the lid and dug into the brown mush.

“
Steak and potatoes,” Maddox said. “Just like momma used to make.”

“
Provided your momma was a five hundred pound grease machine.”

“
Who says she wasn’t?”

“
Something tells me you've had a good day.”

“
Maybe I did,” Lang replied cryptically.

Maddox leaned in close to the scavenger and said: “I hear the Pritchett boys found some shielding in quadrant 5423. Might be from one of the destroyers.”

“
Good for them.”

“
They say it's in good shape. Hardly any dings or warps,” Maddox continued. He knew if he gave out information, even information that may not interest the person he was speaking with, it increased the odds of reciprocation.

“
I’m happy for them. Really I am,” Lang said. He drank some more beer, took another spoonful of the brown slop, and winced. “Momma should be shot.”

“
She’s seen better days.”

“
Haven’t we all.”

Lang took a long look around the bar before his eyes returned to Maddox.

“
Tell the man in white I’ve got something he might find interesting,” Lang whispered. “I’ll give him a first look, but only if he’s willing to come to my ship in the next hour.”

“
Come on, Lang. You go to him. He doesn’t go to—”

“
This is gold, Maddox. One hundred percent. If he doesn’t come see me, I’m heading elsewhere.”

Maddox laid down another cup of beer.

“
There isn’t a day that passes where someone tells me they’ve got the goods.”

“
I’m not bullshitting,” Lang retorted. “What I’ve got he’ll want. I guarantee it.”

Maddox sighed. “You know he’s a busy man. If you want him to jump, you have to show him a reason to do so. You know he won't do it just for me.”

“
Yeah. I suppose so.”

Lang reached into his shirt and pulled out a small photograph. He handed it to Maddox and said, “If this doesn’t convince him, nothing will.”

The photograph displayed a side view of the probe Lang found on the outskirts of Erebus.

“
What is it?” Maddox asked.

“
It’s from the war and it’s just about intact. Anything else, the man in white can figure out on his own. Tell him I’ve got it.”

Lang laid down some change. With a nod and a wink, he headed out the bar.

Kelly
Lang whistled a cheerful tune while returning to his ship's docking berth. At some point in the distant past, the corridor before him was immaculately clean. It was now filled with reddish dust and a stampede of footprints both old and new.

It took Lang a few minutes to pass this corridor and reach the entrance to his craft. At the foot of the door, he punched in his security code and waited. His ship’s outer doors opened and he entered an even narrower and grimier corridor.

Home sweet home.

He took only a couple of steps before hearing a ring.

Lang returned to the ship’s outer doors and pressed a button beside a monitor on the wall. It lit up with a view of the
Titus
station’s docking berth doors. Walking into the area was a man dressed in immaculate white.

“
That was quick,” Lang said.

The scavenger pressed a button and the outer doors opened. The man in white stepped through them and out of the camera’s sight. Lang shut the monitor off and opened his ship’s outer doors once again.

Lang
met up with the man in white just as he reached the pressurized doors leading into the
Sandstorm
. The man’s white suit was immaculate. His face was chiseled and very thin. Icy blue eyes gave Lang an impatient stare.

“
Maddox showed me your photograph,” the man in white said. “What you're selling better be real, Mr. Lang. I don't take kindly to people wasting my time.”

“
Wouldn’t think of it.”

“
It would be an even bigger shame if I discovered you were trying to pass off a forgery.”

The smile on Lang’s face evaporated. The man in white, otherwise known as Ned Frasier, was one of the chief engineers of the
Titus
space station. Though he worked for the Epsillon government, those in the salvage business knew he was also one of the elite middlemen that dealt with Erebus War material. His clients paid very well and no one crossed him. That was because it was rumored he had very deep ties to the underworld.

“
I wouldn’t call you out if what I was selling wasn’t big, and real,” Lang said.

The scavenger escorted Frasier to the rear section of his ship. The two paused before the double doors leading into
Sandstorm’s
decompression chamber. Lang punched in the appropriate access code and when the doors opened he motioned for Frasier inside.

Frasier did so and stopped a few feet short of the probe.

“
She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Lang said.

Frasier did not reply. Instead, he scanned the machine as if he were a starving man admiring an elaborate banquet. After a few seconds, he walked to the probe's side and leaned down to get a better look at her faded red lettering.

“
I did some research,” Lang said. “The probe’s from the
Argus
. She was a juggernaut class ship that –get this– wasn’t even supposed to be here during the war.”

“
Argus
,” Frasier repeated. His voice was a whisper. He touched the probe gently, as if feeling for a pulse. “Where did you find her?”

“
Among the asteroids.”

“
Where?
”

“
You’re kidding, right?”

Frasier’s cold eyes stared hard at the scavenger. Lang wasn’t sure what to make of the intense expression on the man in white’s face.

“
No offense, Mr. Frasier,” Lang sputtered. “But I tell anyone where I found this and whatever claims I’ve got for any future discoveries are gone.”

“
I will pay you well for this item,” Frasier countered. “Well enough that you won’t have to worry about making any further forays into Erebus. But I will not pay you one credit until I know where exactly you found this probe.”

“
Why?” Lang asked. “You think there’s more treasure out there?”

Frasier drew an impatient breath. He rubbed his eyes before letting out the breath.

“
As a historian, an
amateur
historian anyway, I make it my hobby to know as much as possible about the Erebus War. As you said, the
Argus
was not one of the Epsillon warships listed as perishing within this system when it erupted. Unfortunately, I’ve had more than a few scavengers offer me items they claim were from ships stationed here at the time of this explosion. They demand top dollar for what amounts to planted items. I need to know where you found this probe, Mr. Lang, because that’s the only way I can verify the
Argus
was indeed in system when it exploded.”

Kelly Lang scratched the back of his neck.

“
I see,” he finally said.

“
Is this all you found?”

“
Yes sir,” Lang said. “I guess…I can understand your concern, Mr. Frasier. If you’re willing to pay extra, I’ll throw in the location of this find along with the probe itself.”