It only took a moment for the Quinton’s lasers to destroy the four missiles. However, they passed harmlessly through the Crazy Horse’s disappearing hyper field—and blasted part of the group of pursuing Earth destroyers. As several of the vessels exploded as the victims of friendly fire, Selena temper flashed violently. In a fit of rage, she picked up the burnt tiara crown and threw it against Trager’s now abandoned scanner.
* * * * *
Chapter 18: Traitors
In Trager’s mind, the Crazy Horse’s escape was nothing short of miraculous. This opinion was formulated by the fact that Trager, Abner, and the surviving engineers needed to don spacesuits before they could be escorted to Wakinyan. At the time, it seemed outlandish, but as they were paraded through the interior of the ship, they easily understood why.
Gaping holes breached the hull through compartments of the vessel, making them uninhabitable. Ducts, cables, and other wreckage were strewed about the corridors, as spacesuited mariners and marines worked hard to repair the damage and clean it up. Still as the group of deserters and their escorts moved through a number of interior airlocks, the Earth officer was completely dumbfounded as to why the Crazy Horse had not been destroyed in the previous battle. The damage was so severe that the Martian vessel was forced to drop out of hyperspace to make some critical repairs. Yet, the ship was still intact and operational. It was like a giant hand had protected it and all those who sailed aboard her.
As the group passed through a final airlock, Major Franks pointed to a conference room.
“You can take your helmets off now,” Major Franks said as he removed his own, “but keep them handy just in case.”
Trager regarded the major’s words as either a very bad joke or honest lack of confidence in the ship’s atmospheric integrity. Yet, the Earth officer heeded the advice, and tucked his helmet underneath his left arm. The group was then ushered into the room.
Two Martian officers stood alone, conversing quietly among themselves. Trager, however, expected the one wearing the deputy commander’s rank to be Yamaguchi Noda. But the young officer who turned to gaze at the group with piercing, steadfast eyes was definitely not him.
“Please, be seated,” Wakinyan offered chairs to his standing guests. “I am Deputy Fleet Commander Richard Wakinyan, and this is Captain James Randall,” he introduced. “Is Commander Trager among you?”
“I am Commander Trager,” the proud officer took a step forward, “and this is Chief Engineer Abner Strephon,” the older officer gestured to his friend. “We are the ones who contacted Commander Paladin.”
Wakinyan face was as stone. “Commander Trager, I am not one to stand on formality. Commander Paladin has guaranteed safe passage for you and your crewmen to any destination you desire, but after we have confirmed your information.”
Trager had his doubts, however. “No offense, Commander. But it looks like your ship’s next destination is the scrap heap.”
“Hey, with a little welding and some paint, she’ll be as good as new!” James joked.
Wakinyan quickly gave his friend a slight smile, but then he turned back to the Earth deserters. “Commander Trager, you must excuse Captain Randall. Like me, he has great pride in this ship and its crew. We’ll make it to Valamars. There, you and your information will be presented to Commander Paladin,” Richard assured.
“If he’s still alive!” Trager injected.
“What do you mean?” Wakinyan’s tone became serious again.
Trager frowned. “There’s going to be an attempted mutiny by Earth loyalists. If they can, they’ll capture Paladin. If not—they’ll kill him! And that’s not all, we’ve been tracking your fleet.”
Wakinyan eyes narrowed as his face tightened in solemnity. “How?” he demanded to know.
Trager and Abner exchanged glances. However, it was the engineer who then spoke up.
“They’re using what is called a cipher scout. It’s a device approximately five meters long by about one meter in diameter. It was developed for surveillance and espionage. The user programs it for whatever information he wants to pass on or record, and then drops it into space. It’s retrieved later using a signal beacon, but it has the capability of transmitting into hyperspace—and it’s virtually undetectable!”
“Your Earth loyalists have been placing them at intervals, while your fleet has been traveling to Valamars. Usually, its after new coordinates have been issued for the next way point,” Trager added.
“What proof can you offer me of this?” Wakinyan questioned.
Trager’s eyes were fixed and unblinking. “Your fleet stopped at Apoapsis Three. There, they then set course for a small, unnamed star cluster located in our galaxy’s corona.”
Wakinyan and Randall abruptly snapped their heads momentarily in surprise towards each other while a hint of fear accented their faces.
“Valamars, I take it?” Trager questioned already knowing the answer.
Wakinyan squared his jaw. “Jim, contact the Mariner, immediately!” he ordered.
“Commander, we can’t!” Randall voice vocalized his uneasiness. “Our hyper-link transceiver was destroyed in the battle! We’ve only have local system communications!” he informed.
“That’s just great!” Wakinyan expressed angrily. “Get a hold of Marcus! I want this ship underway in ten minutes at maximum burn!” Wakinyan order Randall in a no-nonsense tone. The man then turned back to the Earth officers. “Commander Trager, I want the names of those traitors, right now!”
* * * * *
The rest of the journey for the remnants of the Martian First Destroyer Squadron and the fleeing colonist’s ships was an uneventful anti-climax. As the small convoy jumped out of hyperspace into the outer boundaries of a solar system, their transceivers were suddenly filled with the usual chatter from a nearby fleet.
“Welcome to Valamars,” Denko greeted mechanically to all the ships under his command.
Seemingly, there was no great jubilation among any of the passengers or crews. For some reason, all was uncomfortably quiet. A terrible foreboding drenched the air, while a melancholy occupied many hearts and minds. In some more than others, the pilgrims felt that they were only temporarily liberated from death by the pursuing red ships. Some hidden evil gnarled at them, fomenting uneasiness in each soul.
As the ships slipped away into the great night of space, each failed to detect the small object that floated and tumbled slowly in the void. Although its motion was random, the cipher scout was operating normally—and broadcasting an undetectable beacon to its ruthless masters.
* * * * *
Valamars was a younger, but slightly bigger world than Earth. Set on the farther edge of the system’s “Goldielocks Zone”, the slightly colder planet still retained an ecosystem that generated an oxygen / carbon dioxide atmosphere, whose mixture was quite acceptable to humans. It was abundant in plant and animal life, but they were only to be found in massive quantities in the warmer regions and by the great oceans. Similar to immigrants’ home world of Mars, arid sections were basaltic in nature, giving those regions of the planet a distinctive reddish countenance, while other sections were Earth-like. Seen from either of its circling moons, it was a beautiful marble of merging whites, reds, browns, greens, and blues.
Orbiting the dark side of the planet, Commander Paladin peered out a large porthole on the bridge at the Valamars. He clearly made out the lights of some of the new, but vacant Martian cities illuminating the night. They gestured an invitation to the every passenger of the fleet to come occupy them, but Paladin knew better. Unless he had reassurances that the danger from Earth had abated, he was obliged to simply point his fleet towards space and vanish into the great ether to a destination that was undecided.
Paladin listened as he overheard Captain Winslow again arguing with another civilian ship’s captain. As many had done in the past hour, the unknown ship’s master urgently requested permission for hi
s ship to land on the planet.
“Yes, yes, I know, captain!” Winslow spoke into his headphone. “Other transport captains have expressed the same concern. Commander Paladin has not issued the disembarkation order yet.”
Winslow paused for a moment to listen. “I know your passengers are getting a little anxious. We all are!” He again gave way to pause. “He’s waiting for the arrival of the last of our ships. Just be a little more patient, the order should be given within the hour.” Winslow’s face began to fluster. “Thank you, Captain. Winslow, out.”
John took a deep breath as Paladin turned and walked towards him. Finally stopping in front of his subordinate, a scowl was carved in the older officer’s jaw.
“Commander,” John verbalized first, “I think just about every transport captain has called us. They’re getting a little nervous.”
Paladin’s mind, however, was not swayed. “I would rather have them a little nervous than a lot dead,” he said with a solemnity that startled the younger officer.
“Commander!” the communication’s crewman suddenly reported, “Captain Denko of the First Destroyer Squadron is hailing us!”
Paladin wrenched his head to gaze at the dark-haired female crewman. “PUT HIM ON!” his tone was imperative.
Within a moment, Denko’s voice was heard.
“Fullback to Angel Fire! Fullback to Angel Fire! Do you copy?” Denko called.
“Angel Fire to Fullback! We copy!” Paladin became apprehensive. “Glad to see you’re here, Captain. Where’s Wakinyan?”
Denko was slow to answer. “I don’t know, Commander.”
Paladin’s tenseness suddenly broke into anger. “What the hell do you mean you don’t know? What happened out there?” he interrogated.
“I’m not really sure, Commander,” Denko was apologetic. “It got really wild! An enemy fleet was pursuing the colonists. Coming out of hyperspace, Wakinyan launched an immediate attack to draw them off. However, he then ordered us to break off and escort the colonists, while he took his own ship along with the Sorenson and Lee as a rear guard. While he was diverting them, he ordered us to escape into hyperspace. Both the Sorenson and Lee were destroyed. And the last time I saw the Crazy Horse, several destroyer squadrons were pursuing her. We tried several times to raise Wakinyan in hyperspace—but he never answered!”
Paladin’s eyes winced, while his jaw tightened. He hoped that Winslow did not notice the several tears that ran down his face.
Denko went on. “Commander, we have another problem.”
Paladin took a deep breath. “And what is that?” he asked as a sudden tiredness consumed him.
“Captain Nargis reported that the Crimson Fleet jumped out of hyperspace behind one of the moon’s of Cramer’s World and initiated a direct assault against the planet. From this, it’s evident that someone inside our fleet supplied information of our plans prior to the attack,” Denko deduced.
“Anything else?” Paladin’s grief showed in his loss for words.
“Yes, Sir,” Denko continued. “We have two damaged colonist vessels in tow, along with a lone surviving Indra warship, Commander Wakinyan’s orders. The aliens sacrificed several ships to protect the colonists.”
Paladin got a grip on himself. “I see. Quarantine the alien vessel and have the colonist ships repaired. Paladin, out.”
The officer seemed to get old all at once. He slowly shuffled back to the porthole and gazed out again.
Winslow stood confused. “Commander, what do we do now?”
Paladin sighed. “We have traitors within the fleet, and only a short time to find them. Raise Mr. Damon on the Morning Star and bring the fleet to a security alert.”
“Aye, Sir,” Winslow responded.
As Winslow went about his tasks, Paladin tramped heavily back to his command chair. He then plopped into the seat, just as the face of Feoras Damon materialized on the main viewing screen.
“Hello, Commander,” Damon pleasantly gave his salutations. “Are you ready to give the disembarkation order yet?”
“No, Mr. Damon, I am not!” Paladin was blunt.
“Why not?”
Paladin drew a deep breath. “Some time ago, I learned that The Order has both spies and traitors aboard our ships. There is also a good possibility that an Earth battle fleet is on its way here now. We need to secure our ships and safeguard our people before we do anything else,” the tired officer confided.
Damon’s face suddenly became twisted in fearful consideration. “So it wasn’t a random act of sabotage!”
“What are you talking about?” Paladin grew concern.
“We caught several individuals attempting to disable our hyper-drive, including two of our own crewmen,” Damon informed.
Paladin grew a little hopeful. “You have them in custody?”
“Yes, we do,” replied Damon. “Like I said, I thought it was a random act. We haven’t really tried to question them though. Perhaps, you and some of your staff would like to interrogate them. Maybe they can lead us to more of them, and we could then review our options.”
For a long moment, Paladin pondered the suggestion. “That sounds good,” he felt a little more at ease. “Mr. Damon, I’ll be over shortly with my security officer.”
“Excellent, we’ll be awaiting your arrival. Damon, out.”
After the viewer went blank, Paladin slowly raised himself up from the seat. He stood quietly for a moment, locked in his own thoughts.
Although the course of events twisted into an unforeseen dilemma, Paladin hoped to somehow deal with it on his terms. With the loss of Wakinyan, things were going to be a lot harder though. Still, the situation wasn’t impossible.
“Mr. Winslow, prepare a shuttle. You’re in charge of the fleet until I return,” Paladin said as he began to walk away.
However, guilt filled the heart of the captain of the Mariner.
“Commander, wait!” Winslow brashly called out in urgency to his parting superior.
Paladin stopped and turned, somewhat surprised by the unexpected outcry.
“Sir, I think it more prudent to have them brought over here instead!” Winslow almost demanded, remembering his conversation with Captain Khalid.
“Why?” Paladin asked.
“Because, Sir, we don’t know who we can trust and who we can’t!” Winslow became resolved. “With all due respect, Sir, I do not think you should leave the safety of this ship! Damon is nothing more than a stinking politician, who cares for nothing except himself and staying in power!”
Paladin smiled at John’s concern. “John, I don’t trust him either,” he confided, “but Damon also knows what the Earthers are capable of as well as we do. And he has just as much to lose,” Paladin explained. “Don’t let paranoia fill your head, it’s just as paralyzing as fear. However, your caution has been duly noted, Captain.”
And with those words, Commander Paladin left the bridge of the Mariner.
After Paladin departed, however, the junior officer became despondent. Shame and self-abasement rapidly amplified Winslow’s depression. By the values he had faithfully served so many years, he condemned himself as a traitor. He lacked the courage to act against what he knew was wrong. His blind ambition was about to cost the fleet, and he was powerless to stop it.
As Winslow dwelled on his betrayal, it magnified the feelings of self-recrimination within the man and he erupted in a sudden yell of rage as his fist punched a wall. The Mariner’s bridge crewmen were taken back by his unexpected behavior. Mouths gaped in bewilderment while Winslow withdrew into himself and dropped his head in his disgrace, unable to return any gaze.
* * * * *
Fifteen minutes later, a shuttle from the Mariner entered the shadowy docking bay of the Morning Star and landed amid the smoke and thunder of its fiery thrusters. After the massive bay doors closed and locked, the dimly lit chamber was slowly pressurized with breathable air. It was then t
hat all of the shuttle’s communications went strangely dead, replace by static noise that crackled with a hiss on every channel.
The pilot did not know what to make of it, as he worked his transceiver controls, but nothing came of his efforts. Still, the craft was safe within the bay of the ship, and no real danger was posed to the crew or its passengers. The pilot then proceeded to shut down the shuttle’s systems as the co-pilot opened the craft’s hatch. He hoped that the Morning Star’s maintenance crew could find the cause of the abnormality before their departure.
After the craft had been secured, Paladin led the small group of men from the shuttle. Their booted footsteps reverberated in lingering echoes throughout the surreal metal chamber of shade and emptiness. Each man thought it strange that no other craft, tools, or even supplies were in the compartment. Normally, a ship’s landing bay is a hotbed of activity, but here there was nothing. There were no signs of any work ever having been performed, just nothing.
The group’s paced slowed, as the unsettling quiet became as an obstacle that dragged and mired each foot. Yet, the small party proceeded closer to the exit hatches. Occasionally a pair of eyes probed the long shadows, but still they continued.
As the group drew closer, a fleeting gust of equalizing air awakened their senses as every exit hatch sprung open with a loud bang. Heavily armed men in the uniforms of Earth security forces as well as their cyborg counterparts then charged out and surrounded the small party of Martians. Their weapons were pointed menacingly at the four men.
It was then that a tall and lanky bearded man with red hair stepped out from behind a hatch. A small corridor was then made for him through the ring of soldiers, as the Earthmen stood aside to let him pass. As he moved closer, Paladin made out the eagles on the collar of his uniform, indicating he was a “full bird” colonel.
“Commander Paladin,” the officer announced as he drew closer. “I am Colonel Galler, Special Adjutant to the Administrator of Mars. By order of the Earth Supreme Council, you and your crewmen, Commander Paladin, are under arrest. The charge is treason.”