Chapter 24 Consequences
The clean up was well under way and had been on-going for several hours now. Themis and Sultan had both taken significant damage and casualties and several sections of Nova-7 would be off-line for some time. Decontamination was a painstaking process. To completely repair both ships and get them fully operation again would take several weeks, if not months. Nova-7 looked like it would take even longer to fully recover. Ford had looked long and hard at the casualty lists and hoped it would be last the funeral service he would have to perform for some time.
At least the virus Jasper had deployed seemed to have been successfully purged from the infected ships and systems. The news channels were humming with wall to wall coverage of the battle of Nova-7, endlessly replaying images of the conflagration that had engulfed the swarm ship. Reporters besieging them and the Governor for interviews. Thankfully everyone had agreed to stonewall them till after they had met the Governor and discussed Ford's proposal to avert further bloodshed. At which point he hoped they would be able to agree the contents of a joint press conference. The battle, while it hadn’t been part of the original plan, hadn’t done the long term prospects for peace any harm. The coverage they were receiving on the news channels, for their part in it, had certainly helped their cause, judging by the influx of messages he had received from interested parties. Now all he had to do was convince Governor Clarkson to sign up to the plan. Scott and the Raiders were his ace card, at least he hoped they were, with the information Scott had given him he was confident he could blackmail Clarkson into agreeing to just about anything, if all else failed. Still, he couldn't help thinking, he'd need a long hot shower to cleanse himself of what he was about to do, once all this was over.
As the Phoenix left the Themis and made its way carefully through the debris field, towards a high security dock that had been cleared and reopened especially for them, he winced at the extent of the damage. Themis and Alaster’s pain was a constant reminder to him of the scale and cost of the battle. Through his uplink with them, he'd felt every blow, every wound, the Anterian’s had inflicted on them. The virus surging through and attempting to corrupt their vital systems. In the heat of battle he’d become one with the ship. It was a strange, alien way, of working and he was not entirely sure humans were suited to it, but he had a deep admiration and respect for the AI and the ship. Their unquestioning loyalty to their captain and crew. They’d drawn strength from each other during the battle and were stronger for it, despite the jagged ruptures in her sleek golden hull. These wounds would heal and become the scars of experience and they would all be the stronger for it.
Outside of the ship, the dark void of space was punctuated by bright flashes of light, as salvage ships periodically jumped in to assist with the cleanup operation. Drawn to the vast debris field like moths to a flame. No doubt they hoped to strike it lucky and score some valuable piece of human or alien tech amid all the junk. It didn’t really matter so long as they cleared it away and keep the free port open for business. That was also vital to his plan.
Jay had the duty of piloting the Phoenix safely to the Nova-7. Apart from the surviving Raiders, Scott and the security detail guarding them, Ford had taken Carol, Logan, Vlade and Horra with him. The latter two largely at their insistence, to show their solidarity with him, in defiance of their own governments. He’d tried to talk them out it, but they had insisted. Claiming, that having already been abandoned to their fate by their governments, they had little to lose by publicly backing him. Admiral Faiz, his XO Viqaas and President in exile Tasha, plus a personal security detail, were also inbound via one of Sultans shuttles. It was going to be a very interesting meeting with Governor Clarkson.
Commander Haidar dressed in a fresh uniform, his wounds treated, lead the honour guard that greeted them. It was a low key affair.
“We thought it best to keep the press and public away, given the sensitive nature of our ‘guests.’” he said gesturing to his men to relive Fords security detail of their cargo.
A high security isolation wing in the stations prison, located on the outer section of one of the least frequented arms of the station, had been made ready for them.
As his men prepared to lead the Raiders away he turned to Ford. “Best for all concerned, very little traffic in that part of the station. The last thing we need right now is a public confrontation.”
“A little too quiet, don’t you think? I hope no one is planning an accident.” replied Ford.
Haidar looked at him inquisitively. “I don’t know what you’re suggesting, but those bastards are going to get what’s coming to them, one way or another. What about this one?” he added placing his hand on the shoulder of the handcuffed Captain Scott, ready to lead him away.
Ford studied the man intently and judged him genuine. A straightforward military man simply following orders and protocols unaware of what was going on behind the scenes. He couldn’t help wondering if it was intentional or not. How much of a defence ignorance actually was in the final reckoning of the universe, as it unravelled around them.
“He stays with us, in my custody. He‘s got business with the Governor, but I’ll lose the cuffs to avoid drawing unnecessary attention.”
“That’s highly irregular, taking a dangerous criminal through a populated area of the station to meet the Governor. I’ll have to clear it with Clarkson first.”
“These are highly irregular times, but be my guest.” said Ford as he uncuffed him, flicking his cloak back to reveal his pistol. “But if Captain Scott here makes one false move, I’ll kill him myself.”
“Whatever.” snorted Scott. “I’m a dead man walking.”
“Good, because I’m sure as hell not carrying your corpse round this station, now keep quiet, play it my way and you may just live to see another day.”
“Well whatever game you’re playing I want no part of it, but the Governor has asked me to escort you all to his private council chambers, including Scott. If you'd follow me please.” said Haidar leading them off the deck and into the heart of the station complex.
Haidar knew the he station like the back of his hand. Skillfully skirting the populous areas and lurking news crews. He lead them through a bewildering maze of side passages and walkways, maintenance channels and other underutilised sections, of the sprawling complex that was Nova-7.
“I don’t like this.” whispered Carol. “They could ambush us here and no one would ever know.”
“She’s right, you’re leading me into a set-up. They’re going to kill me to keep me quiet and my blood will be on your hands.” hissed Scott.
Ford resisted the overwhelming urge to pistol whip him. ”Given the amount of blood that's already on your hands, you’re lucky to still be breathing. Now shut-up, before I decide you’ve outlived your usefulness.”
They continued onwards as a tense silence descended on the party. At one point Haidar gestured to them to wait, but it turned out the holdup was nothing more dangerous than a press crew. They were harassing one of the Nova-7’s liaison officers, demanding to know what had happened to Ford’s party, after they had docked. Why the Governor was refusing to give interviews. They waited patiently for them to disappear round a corner, as they pursued the hapless individual down the passage, and slipped across the disserted corridor to continue their journey. Finally they arrived outside the heavily guarded council chambers.
“This is as far as I go.” said Haidar looking dubiously at Scott. “And frankly I’m grateful. I’m a solider not a politician.”
Scott scoffed dismissively “You’re no better than me a hired gun, you just choose to look the other way and pretend you don’t know when awkward questions get asked.”
Haidar ignored him and gestured to the guards by the door to show them in. “I’ll be waiting out here to show you to your quarters, when you’re finished, assuming you’re staying on board that is.”
“That depends on the Governor.” said Ford as the ornate, gold coloure
d, doors swung open and they were ushered into a grand conference room. The centre piece of which was a genuine mahogany table surround by ornately carved chairs with plush red cushions.
Governor Clarkson sat in a throne like chair at the far end of the table resting his hands on the exquisitely carved armrests. He appeared to be in his late fifties with short curly grey hair, receding from his temples like a closely knit mat of steel wool, mirrored by the sharp, cold grey, of his eyes. He was dressed in white from head to foot. The only splash of colour a single gold sash of office, draped across his chest, dropping away from his right shoulder. It was emblazoned with the station badge where the sash crossed his heart. He gripped the arms of the chair and pushed himself to his feet as the doors closed behind them and motioned to his aid, who’d been standing slightly behind him and to his right, to leave them. The man bowed slightly and retreated into an anti-chamber behind them taking his tablet computer with him.
The Governor held out his hands in welcome. “Ladies and gentleman thank you for saving my station, now please take a seat and I’ll order us all refreshments.”
The others waited for Ford to pull up a seat and sit down, gesturing to Scott take the one between him and Clarkson as he did so, and followed his lead.
Ford spoke first. “That won’t be necessary, you know why we’re here despite what’s happened, or perhaps because of it, our proposal still stands.”
Clarkson took a deep breath. “Ah yes, the trial of the those responsible for the ‘meat run’. My public denouement of it. The creation of a safe haven for refugees and asylum seekers in the Scorpion Nebula. Nova-7's support for a Federation backed peace plan to end the hostilities between Icon and Dracon. Did I miss anything, or perhaps I should just hand over the keys of the station to the Federation now?”
“No I believe that just about covers it.” said Ford looking to his colleagues. “The alternative is of course Scott here sings like a canary and exposes your little deal with our friend Jasper and the Anterian's.”
“Really, this is tiresome, wouldn’t it be easier just to eliminate the problem?”
He pulled a small, but deadly, gauss pistol out from a concealed compartment under the table and pointed at Scott’s head.
“By all means pull the trigger if you must, but I have his confession in our databanks and if anything happens to any one of us.” Ford gesture to everyone bar Scott. “Then that recorded confession will automatically be distributed to every news agency in the galaxy.”
He lowered the gun smiling. “Temping though it is, this poor bastards going to spending the rest of his life looking over his shoulder, wondering whose coming to get him next, if I let him live. So tell me again. What’s in it for me? Other than saving my reputation and not being lynched by my own people.”
“The Scorpion Nebula is rich in resources, with the Raiders gone, the refugees can reclaim it to build a new home for themselves. Nova-7 gets exclusive trading rights with the new colony and takes a small percentage fee for selling on it resources. This place becomes a boom town, everyone wins.”
“Wasn’t there a bit about sucking up to the federation and ending a war? Although I fail to see what’s in for me?” Clarkson waved the gun casually around, watching Scott sweat.
Tasha cut across Ford before he could speak. “You go down in history as the man who ended the hundred year war, instead of the cold hearted bastard who sold his own people out to the Anterian’s as party snacks.”
He smiled politely at her pointing the gun in her direction. “Brave words child, for a leader without a planet to lead, but I think you’ll find they were somebody else’s people, other than mine. Perhaps you should ask our friend Scott here, I’m sure he’s kept quite detailed records of every transaction.”
“Perhaps you’d like me to order the Sultan to open fire on Nova-7.” she snapped back.
“My, my, you're a feisty one aren't you? Perhaps I should just frag that antique and be done with the lot of you, whose first?” said Clarkson toying with the gun pointing it from one to the other.
Ford could feel the tension rising in the room. Vlade and Horra were like coiled springs ready to pounce, even Faiz and Viqaas were ready to explode. He glanced across to Carol.
“That would be a very bad move.” she brought up a holographic play back of Scott’s confession. Fast forwarded to the bit where he revealed he’d secretly recorded the meeting between Jasper and Clarkson. “We’ve hacked into your broadcast systems and can play this back whenever we choose. We’re running a book on how long you’ll last once this goes viral.”
Clarkson put the gun down on the table. “If I agree to your demands you'll hand this over?”
Ford shook his head. “Insurance, so long as you play ball it never sees the light of day.”
“You ask too much of me.”
Tasha glared at him. “If you ask me he’s letting you off too lightly. We’ve done all the hard work for you.”
“She right.” said Ford. “Jasper crippled their economy when he destroyed the Zenon-5 refinery, making the occupation of Dracon unviable. Their former Presidents farewell address has sparked a revolt, even among the Iconian’s, and undermined their regime. Their desperate for peace and need those resources in the Scorpion Nebula to rebuild their planetary economies. In return for which you get the added protection of their military forces. Agree to our plan and go down in history as the man who reconciled the irreconcilable. Clarkson the peacemaker. Reject it..." he paused and looked across the table to Carol, her finger hovering over the transmit button. "...and my guess is you'll get thrown out an airlock by your own people if you're lucky."
“And where do the Federation fit in all this?”
Ford leaned back and smiled. “I’m saving your worthless hide, not your independence. Nova-7, the refugee colonies in the Scorpion Nebula, the Dracon and Icon systems will all become fully fledged members of the federation. Which should help deter any further Anterian incursions in this sector, especially after what they've seen us do to their swarm ship.”
“You seriously believe you can make this work? You’re an idealist and a fool.”
“No, but I believe Nova-7 can. The other parties have already signed up to my plan. All I need is Nova-7, with or without you, but I think enough blood has been spilt, without triggering a full blown revolt to replace you, don’t you?”
“There’s always the Brethren.” said Clarkson. “Perhaps I’ll get religion?”
“If you can afford the price of salvation, but ask yourself this, if you’re judged and found wanting by the people of this station, are you valuable enough to them to be worth saving?”
He took as deep breath and let out a low long sigh. “Very well, you’ll have your treaty for all the good it'll do you.” He picked up the gun again and waved it at Scott. “But I do so very much want to shoot this poor excuse for a man.”
“There’ll be a trial of course.” said Ford. “We’ll put the surviving Raiders in the dock and they will publicly be called to account for their crimes.”
“Won’t their testimony raise some awkward questions?”
“They’ll plead guilty to making the meat run arrangement with a mysterious anonymous broker, working for the Anterian’s, in return for having their death penalty commuted to a life of servitude in the Scorpion Nebula mines.” said Ford staring long and hard at Scott. “After all it’s in no one’s interest for the truth to come out now is it?”
“Very well, I’ll have Haidar escort you to the ‘guest’ quarters. We’ll announce it at the press conference scheduled for tomorrow.” Clarkson slipped the gun back under the table and pressed a concealed button to call Haidar and his men into the room. "This one can go in the cells with his ‘comrades’.”
Ford shook his head. “He stays with us, as 'insurance', besides I have other plans for him.”
Clarkson lifted his right hand up and examined his nails nonchalantly. “Well, so long as they involve pain and suffering, you can have
him.”
Haidar escorted them the short distance from the council chambers to a small wing of the guest quarters. Which they’d been granted exclusive use of. He positioned his guards outside, to ensure they weren’t disturbed, and left them to their own devices.
Carol turned to Ford. “Are you sure we can trust him? Because right now it feels like were under house arrest.”
Ford help up his hand and gestured to them to be silent. “If I was Clarkson, I’d called pest control and get these rooms swept. They’re crawling with bugs, but we can put it with it for one night can’t we?” He darkened the tint on his glasses and rolled his eyes up into his skull, to link with Gaia, and neutralise the devices. He took the glasses off and slipped them into his cloak. “Now to answer your question, no I don’t trust him, but I trust his instinct for survival.”