Chapter 11
"It's the two missing soldiers," Major Jenkins said.
Two men lay on the ground near an open storage container where, apparently, they'd been stashed. Dr. Monte Blair knelt over one, a medical bag at his side.
"Are they dead?" asked Calvin.
"No, just unconscious," said Monte. "Being trapped in a crumpled position for an hour isn't good on the joints, but it’s not the worst thing in the galaxy either. These men are lucky. I see no cuts, no teeth marks, not even bruises. I'm not sure how the lycan incapacitated them."
"If he was the one who did it," Calvin thought of the missing surveillance tape. And the fact that even a lycan shouldn't have been able to slip past the forcefield. It was a forcefield after all.
"You think it was one of ours?" asked Captain Pellew.
"Can't rule it out," Calvin bent down to look at the unconscious soldiers. "Either that or someone else was on the transport besides the werewolf."
"And the Nighthawk's scanners missed them? Impossible,” said Pellew. “A craft that size in open sight? We have the best equipment in the Fleet and we sealed it shut after our last soldier was back aboard. We definitely would have seen someone."
Calvin shrugged. "At this point I'm willing to believe anything. And suspect anyone. Considering what’s happened lately, I don’t think anything’s crazy anymore.” He rose to his feet and smoothed out his uniform.
"Monte, get these men to the infirmary at once. I want them to stay there until we’ve had a chance to question them. Let me know the minute they come to.” Calvin looked at the Major. "Jenkins, I need you to post some men at the infirmary for the time being."
"Agreed," the Major nodded. "Captain Pellew, see to it."
"Right away, sir."
***
After apprising Summers of the situation below decks, Calvin released the very tired active crew. Once the replacement officers took their stations, and his Second Officer took the command position—with strict orders to inform Calvin if even the slightest thing happened, Calvin left. Moving with a pack of officers to the lower decks, fully armed, travelling in a group—like he'd ordered. They dropped off a person at a time as his or her quarters were reached.
Summers had wanted to stay on the bridge but Calvin insisted she get some rest. She agreed, on the condition that Calvin get some rest as well. He doubted he'd be able to sleep but preferred to relax in privacy. And he knew if he let his stress overwhelm him it would impair his judgment.
They reached his quarters on deck five and he took his leave and locked the door. He wasn't sure if the triple seal would stop a werewolf, since he'd never encountered one before, but it would at least slow one down. He didn't undress except to remove his shoes, then he climbed onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, taking in slow, deep breaths.
"Lights off," he said and they turned off. Everything was quiet, except for the slight breeze coming through the air vent. Calm and peaceful. He shut his eyes, trying to close his mind to the many questions spinning inside him like a raging storm. But to no avail. He had too few answers and his mind was what it was. Compelled to chew away at every puzzle and mystery until it was solved. And there were far too many.
Raidan’s choice to attack the Rotham freighters—sacrificing everything for the “good of the Empire”; the weird message Calvin had received on Praxis before the trial; the Harbinger’s disappearance; the Fleet’s unwillingness to cooperate with Intel Wing; Princess Kalila’s strange visit and behavior; a randomly-exploding star right in his flight path—one that had otherwise seemed healthy; and now he had an insane werewolf running loose on his ship—doing god knows what—with no explanation for how he got loose and an AWOL surveillance tape.
It was way too much to process now. He felt like he was thinking in slow motion. Groggy, blurry eyed, and lightheaded.
He spent most of an hour eating away at these unsolvable riddles, jumping between them scatterbrained, frustrated to no end. Wondering how many of these puzzles linked together. And how many were just bad timing.
His job came with stress, he knew that, but somehow he felt worse than ever. He just couldn't get his mind to calm down. In frustration he lurched to a sitting position.
"Dim Lights," he said and the room brightened a little.
As he thought about the lycan, the nightmarish images of the Trinity's blood stained walls came to mind automatically. More vivid than memories of yesterday. And Christine... dear sweet Christine. His memories of her tortured him, her smile, her laugh, her hands playing gently with his, the joking, the tickle-fights… and those soft brown eyes—full of mischief and curiosity. He missed her. He missed her so much. And he hated himself for letting it all happen to her.
It wasn't until she died that he’d awoken to how merciless and unfair the universe truly was. Cold and cruel. Sparing no one. Christine had been the gentlest, kindest person he’d ever known. And what had fate dealt her?
The events leading up to the Trinity disaster flashed through his mind and he saw his old friends and comrades come alive like ghosts hovering all around. If only they knew what was coming. If only he could warn them... He wished he could go back and undo it all. He’d give anything…
Swimming upstream through his memories he was in college again. Anand, Miles, and other friends were together in their apartments talking about everything, anything, and nothing. Wondering about the uncertain future, idealists with high expectations. The galaxy was their oyster and nothing would keep them from their dreams. He smiled at the banter, the teasing, and the good times. Miles spiking Anand's drinks. Anand getting back at him by putting soap in his cup. Calvin longed for those days again... cutting classes and chasing girls. Those were the golden days, when everything seemed possible. Before real life crushed them and stole their naivety. Calvin had made so many mistakes since then... his eyes drifted to his safe where the equarius was kept. If only he could do it all over, he could do so much better, be so much more.
His thoughts took him through his bittersweet childhood growing up on Capital World without his father. Being called bastard by the bullies. He remembered his first fight, when he pushed the biggest bully into the lake without warning. He'd paid for that one with a black eye and bruises. But it had been worth it to see the other children laugh. And he remembered Sandy. His first girlfriend. How they used to make-out in the tree house, hold hands while walking the lake's edge, and talk about the future. He didn't realize then how different they really were. She dreamed of kids and family and making a difference. While all he cared about was action, romance, and adventure. He didn't think ahead like she did, he just expected everything to work out in the end. When she left Capital World with her parents, she never came back, and he didn't get over her for years. At least not completely. Not until he met Christine.
Once, a long time ago, he'd used his Intel privileges to look Sandy up, out of innocent curiosity, and discovered she was a Planetary Senator. Already established, making a difference, and successful. And she was married to a very prominent police inspector and she had three children. She knew her dreams early, worked for them, and now lived them. She'd fulfilled her own great expectations. Now that he knew that, Calvin couldn't help but wonder about his own.
Had he achieved any of his dreams? He'd never figured out what his dreams were, really. And he still didn't know. But it wasn't this, was it? He looked down at his crumpled uniform on the bureau... Is this my legacy?... it felt incomplete. Everything was at his fingertips—money, status, power—things people spent their whole lives pursuing. But they'd come to him so easily that they meant almost nothing. Empty. Hollow. Leaving him wondering what's next?
He gazed out the window at the empty blackness and he felt devoid. A lost soul in a void of empty barren darkness. His beating heart a ticking time bomb, destined to stop eventually. And when it did... what was the point of anything? In time, there'd be no one left to remember him.
Then he started laughing... "What's the matter with me? I've got it great," he tried to smile but ended up with a weak grin. "Okay, this is ridiculous..." he climbed out of bed and unlocked his safe. A part of him resented himself for opening the bottle of equarius again but somehow that didn't matter. It seemed like nothing mattered. And he knew the pill would make the aching go away, at least for a while; it would stop the flood of memories that tortured him. It was both his lover and his enemy and he turned to it, dear sweet equarius.
***
Faces blurred through the shadows like ghostly whispers. Children became adults and in the ethereal grey realms of everything and nothing, Calvin felt light like a feather as he moved everywhere and nowhere. But on his back was a heavy mountain of snow, cold and crushing, the flakes of a thousand yesterdays piled upon him.
He awoke with pain biting the insides of his head. He recognized the dim features of his room once he lurched to a sitting position, but he felt elsewhere—like it wasn't real. The world flipped upside down and he began to spin. Losing sight of everything—like he was falling in all directions, trapped in a psychedelic vortex.
He screamed in the darkness, clutching the foot of the bed—which he held for dear life, until, suddenly, his world calmed like a sea of glass. He was panting, heart thundering, but eventually his breathing became slow and deep. "Lights," he said, ripping off his sweat-drenched shirt.
As he stood up, his movements were ginger and almost off-balance. He couldn't remember having a worse nightmare. The dream was lost to him but he knew this wasn't just a simple night terror. He glanced at the bottle of equarius he'd again failed to lock up. He went to it, snatched it up, and peered into the orangey translucent bottle at the small white pills. "Could it be you?" he wondered then hurled the bottle against the wall.
"This is insane..." he took a shower in his cramped bathroom and changed clothes—it was almost 0500 and he knew he wasn't going to get back to sleep. He wondered if this was the first of many nightmares to come, if so, eventually, he wouldn't be able to command the ship. He needed a medical opinion and decided to find Dr. Blair.
Since the lycan had gone missing, he'd forbidden anyone from moving around the ship alone. But he made himself an exception, deciding it was worth the risk. And if he did run into the werewolf, he wasn't going down without a fight. He clipped on a sidearm, picked up the assault rifle, and set out—quick and silent.
He avoided the elevators and climbed down the ladders, even with such a powerful weapon he knew stealth trumped force. Every creak and noise of the ship jumped out at him, and twice he resisted the urge to shoot his own shadow. But he reached the infirmary without incident. He pressed his thumb against the plate and unlocked the door. Three soldiers and the doctor on shift saluted as he stepped inside.
"Are you all right, sir?" the young medic asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just need to see Monte."
"He asked not to be disturbed unless it was a real emergency."
"I insist." Calvin stepped past and knocked softly on the door to Dr. Blair's adjoining quarters. When no one answered, he pounded the door with the flat of his hand. It slid open to reveal a very groggy, unhappy looking Monte Blair. "What the Sam hell?" He squinted and shielded his eyes from the infirmary lights. Calvin stepped into the bedroom and the door slid shut.
"Lights," said Calvin and they snapped on.
"Holy Pete's tap-dancing sack of crap... what in the name of a Rotham's murderous red ass are you doing here at five in the morning?" his hoarse voice made him seem even older than his fifty-five years.
"I see you're as charming as ever, doctor," said Calvin.
"Is that Calvin?" Monte rubbed his eyes and grabbed his glasses.
"The one and only."
"Well how about that...?" The doctor's tone softened as his eyes adjusted and he went over to his tiny kitchen. "You could’ve rung the chime, you know."
"You would've hated that even more." Calvin noticed a stack of dirty magazines on the doctor's table. "I see you've been keeping up on your reading."
The doctor came back with a steaming coffee. "Oh give an old man a break."
"Old man? You're still in the prime of your life."
"Tell that to my bad lung. I sucked the prime of my life through a pipe long ago and now I'm an old man," he wagged a finger at Calvin. "And it'll happen to you."
Calvin nodded. "That's actually why I'm here"
"You're finally seeing the light and want to quit? Well thank god."
"Now, I didn't say that." Even the thought of life without equarius gave him withdrawals.
"I should have known," the doctor shook his head and sat down, motioning Calvin toward the other chair which he declined.
"You know, Monte, I hope the Khans don't catch you talking like that."
"Oh that reminds me, the Khans say the price has gone up. I guess the police busted one of their rings so it'll be harder to get stuff in."
"How much?"
"Up to 7q per gram."
"I'm good for the money." Calvin shrugged.
"So I hear, bailed Miles out for what, 30,000?"
"You would've done the same thing for me."
"But I couldn't afford it, not with my debts. And not everyone makes a captain's paygrade, you know."
"Yeah and not everyone gets a dealer's paygrade. What are the Khans paying these days?"
"It's not as much as you might think since the guys under me take more than their share without me to keep an eye on ‘em. But... I could probably hook you up if you want to deal."
"No chance. It's bad enough that I buy the stuff."
"Whatever you say. So why are you here?" Monte took another sip.
"Oh right, ok, I had this bad dream—"
"I'm fresh out of nightlights."
"Very funny, mister desperate dirty magazine."
"That's low, junior. I think the price just went up to 11q per gram."
"Anyway... I woke up from this dream, I don't even remember what it was, and I had this crazy feeling that the whole world was spinning out of control. I don't know how to describe it, like I knew I was in my room and everything was fine but I couldn't block out the feeling that I was falling and turning. It was horrible and I woke up all sweaty."
"Hmm..." the doctor rubbed his chin. "How long before the feeling passed?"
"I don't know, thirty seconds maybe."
"Was there any pain?"
"My head hurt really bad at first but that went away."
"Any symptoms other than dizziness?"
"Panic, I felt really panicked and all my muscles were really stiff."
"Do you have any history with vertigo?"
"No. Is that what it is?"
"Maybe. Or possibly an inner ear infection. Did you use any equarius before bed?"
"Yes, but I've done that dozens of times. Is there something I can take to counter it?"
"Drugs aren't that simple."
"Do you think that's what it is?"
"Hard to say for now, but it's very possible. I recommend you lay off it for a while. Indefinitely if possible."
"I'll tone it down."
"That stuff's gonna kill you, Calvin," he hesitated. "As your dealer I've always got more stuff for you... but as your friend, I urge you to quit as soon as you can."
Calvin nodded. "Thanks. And I will. Just not yet."
"Now go see the medic out there and have him check for an inner ear infection."
***
He'd almost reached deck five when a scraping sound caught his attention. He let go of the ladder and tracked it to the observation deck. From the other side of the door the noise could be heard in intervals, softer now. Like tapping on glass. He pressed his ear against the door but didn't hear it again and wondered if it had been his imagination after all. He unlocked the door with a command override on the panel and it whisked open to show a dark empty room with huge windows showing off the black void. Nothing stood out.
He stepped into the room anyway, shouldering his rifle. "Lights," they snapped on and the door closed behind him. In the far corner stood the missing lycan, except now he looked perfectly human. Even the red of his eyes had softened to a more normal grey and his brown hair and dark face looked almost ordinary. But Calvin knew better.
"Ahh, Captain, I’d hoped we could get a chance to talk privately."
Calvin raised the rifle and pointed it at the lycan, who bent—ready to spring. "Try it, Captain, see what happens."
Calvin hesitated. He doubted the werewolf could dodge fast enough to prevent being hit—and Calvin liked to think he was a pretty good shot, but what worried him was that he couldn't fire enough bullets to drop the werewolf before his claws were upon him. And if he didn't take him out, there'd be no second chance.
So, with some regret, Calvin lowered his rifle. "All right, let's talk."
The werewolf relaxed and stood up straight like a common human. "Finally, some civility."
"What do you want?"
"I want to thank you for saving my life," the werewolf said with a smile. Calvin wasn't sure what to make of that. A ruse to throw him off guard?
"You're welcome. Maybe you can demonstrate your gratitude by going back to the brig. I know I'd appreciate that."
"I didn't really care for those accommodations, to tell you the truth."
"Escaping them was a mistake, Lycan"
"How do you figure?"
"Every man and woman on this ship has orders to shoot you on sight. Nowhere is safe for you."
"I don't know," he said coyly, "I've been pretty safe so far." He flashed a bold smile. "The truth is, you only found me because I wanted you to."
Calvin raised an eyebrow. "And why would you want that?"
"I want a deal."
"You don't give me many reasons to trust you, werewolf. Why'd you give me a fake name, for starters? Mister John Johnson."
"I didn't want to come up on your computers."
"Let me guess... shady history, criminal background perhaps?" Calvin was not surprised.
"Something like that."
"Withholding information and lying to me isn't a great start for someone who wants to cut a deal. So how about we begin with your real name?"
"All right. It's Tristan."
"Tristan what?"
"That's it. Just Tristan."
"What are you wanted for, Tristan?"
"Well it seems the municipal government on Aros Five and I had something of a disagreement."
"Aros... that's in Rotham space?"
"Yes."
"Then I don't care about that."
"What about the extradition treaty?"
"What about it? I'm not going to pay attention to that. Firstly because this is an intelligence ship, secondly because Aros is a helluva long way from here, and lastly because the treaty only applies to people."
"That's cold, Captain. Why would you say that?"
"I spent some time on the Trinity, the details of which are none of your business."
"Oh the Strigoi attack," the werewolf noted Calvin's surprise. "Yes I've heard of it. And your hatred for Strigoi is justified, but I'm insulted that you hate me because somehow you can't tell the difference between my people and theirs. We're no more Strigoi than you are. Those blood-sucking, deceitful, two-faced bastards. We share nothing in common with them."
"Maybe," said Calvin, somewhat unsure of himself. "But in a few hours it isn't going to matter."
"And why is that?"
"I'm going to turn you over to either the Imperial Fleet or the port authority, whichever is faster. Whether or not they extradite you is up to them."
"Which brings us back to the deal I want."
Calvin didn't trust the lycan enough to make any kind of meaningful deal, but he would squeeze what he could out of him. "OK, Tristan, you want a deal, I need a sign of good faith. How about you tell me how you escaped the brig."
"If you're good at cards, you know I can't just tip my hand right away."
"Then why should I trust you?"
"Because we have so much in common."
"We have nothing in common."
"Oh come on, Captain, you think I don't know you're a fatherless bastard just like me? I might not know everything about you, but where I'm from the Cross clan is well known. Lucky for you I don't care about petty blood-feuds."
Calvin had no idea what Tristan was talking about and he didn't want to think about it. He didn't know much about his own father but it would fit his profile to be involved in some discreet politics, even with werewolves. "Okay, you know my family history. That still doesn't tell me who you are and what you want out of this, Tristan."
"All in good time, Captain, that's our deal. I'll tell you anything you want to know, quid-pro-quo."
"And you get... what?"
"Freedom. I want to be set free on Aleator, no questions asked, no records, no police and no extradition."
Calvin's eyes narrowed. The werewolf shouldn't have known where they were going. "Why Aleator?"
"Isn't that where your ship is ultimately headed? I think we both agree that the sooner I'm off your ship the better."
"And no extradition? You know the government on Aleator—if you can call it one—is neutral and they don't have to honor the extradition treaty. They weren't even invited to the signing."
"I'd rather not take that chance."
"I see..." Calvin paused, then nodded "Okay, we can work something out." It was a lie. There was no way he would endanger that many lives by letting a werewolf run loose, but he had to pretend he might—because he wanted the werewolf's information. "But I want a few things up front."
"State your terms, Captain."
"I want you to go back to the brig voluntarily, and I want your word you'll stay there until we arrive. And that you'll not harm any more of my crew."
"Agreed," the werewolf smiled. "And for the record, I didn't harm anyone."
Calvin felt a chill. "Hang on, I'm not done," he said. "I want to know how you escaped, what happened to the surveillance tape, and how the guards ended up in a containment unit."
"Oh no, no, no, Captain, that's asking too much. All of that is my secret for now, but I promise you—the moment you free me—I'll answer your questions. I'm a lycan not a strigoi, my word is my bond. For now, though, I'll surrender peacefully and go back to the brig, so long as I have your word you'll let me go."
"Deal," said Calvin, making a mental note to cancel the two-nineteen, "Now if you don't mind," he waved his gun toward the door. "The brig is waiting."
***
"Approaching at sixty-thousand mc's per second," said Sarah from the helm while adjusting her controls. "Burners at five percent and holding."
The large red planet wasn't yet in view through the windows and a projected image hovered over the main display.
"That's good, thank you," said Calvin.
"How long are we going to be at Aleator?" asked Miles.
"Not a second longer than we have to." Calvin turned to Sarah. "Contact the port authority, let them know the package we discussed earlier has arrived."
"Yes, sir," she began speaking into her headset.
Shen flipped his chair around from the ops terminal. "Are you sure this is the best idea? I mean, if he could break free from our hold then he'll have no trouble giving the Aleator people the slip. And this kind of betrayal might enrage him, you know, provoke him into doing something deadly."
"Duly noted, Shen," said Calvin, irritation pierced his voice but he was more annoyed at himself than his officer. He hated breaking his word to anyone, even a Remorii, but there was a lot more at stake here than his honor. Unfortunately, by handing Tristan over to the port authority, he'd lose out on any valuable information the werewolf had withheld—although Calvin expected the werewolf would have just lied to them anyway.
"It's just that a lot of people could get hurt, sir."
"Yes, Shen, people could get hurt. Which is why we're giving up the chance for more information to better ensure public safety. Even in this nest of crooks and cutthroats there are still people who deserve better than a death at the claws of a lycan. And the last thing the galaxy needs is more werewolves, should our friend spread his poison. Aleator deserves to know what it's inheriting, then they’ll at least have a fighting chance of dealing with it.”
Even though Shen had questioned him, it was the kind of thoughtfulness he liked from his officers. He needed them to keep him in check and often their eyes were as good, or better, than his own.
"I think you're doing the right thing," said Summers from his side.
He looked over at her. "You do? Then maybe I’m doing the wrong thing after all,” he said with a slight smirk.
Her smile faded.
Sarah spoke up. "Now at sixty million km and still no sentry ships. Just a third-rate freighter refit closing in on our position."
"Project it," said Calvin. Shen acknowledged and, a moment later, a hovering 3D model of a rebuilt freighter appeared, replacing the image of Aleator.
"That's the sentry ship?" asked Miles.
Calvin laughed. "Welcome to Aleator. I take it some of you, aside from our secret jaunts into the DMZ, have never set foot outside of the Empire."
"Aleator just looks like a bunch of outposts orbiting a planet," said Shen. "What makes it so different?"
Miles' reply was almost a shout. "It's anything goes! No laws. You can do whatever you want so long as you follow one rule—don't piss off the Roscos!"
"I've spent some time across the Polarian border a few years back, but even there everything was patrolled and civilized," said Summers.
"You'd especially hate this place," said Calvin and he turned back to Sarah. "Open up a channel to the sentry ship and set up rendezvous coordinates. Let the captain know we're bringing the werewolf aboard his ship and none of his personnel will be allowed to step even one inch onto the Nighthawk once we dock."
"Can do."
Calvin tapped the intercom. "Okay, Major, we'll be docking shortly. Get the package ready to go and make sure your men don't leave him until the Aleator crew has him well in hand."
"You got it, and frankly, I'll be glad to be rid of him."
"You and me both," he let go of the comm just as Sarah waved for his attention.
"Slowing to match approach vector and docking in... just over two minutes.”
As the ship docked and the seconds ticked away, Calvin tried to mask his anxiety. A part of him wanted to see to the werewolf's eviction personally, but this kind of operation was the Major's purview, and if the werewolf did break free somehow, and saw Calvin there... things could get ugly. He waited on the bridge, letting the slow minutes disappear in silence until the Major's voice came back over the intercom.
"It's done. The werewolf is in Aleator custody now and all hands have safely returne."
"I trust you had no problems," said Calvin.
"None, he didn't even try to fight back. In fact, he claimed he knew this was going to happen."
Calvin chuckled nervously. "I bet he did. Very well, Major, good work," he turned off the comm.
"That was too easy, you know... I'm kind of disappointed, in a weird way," said Miles.
Calvin looked at him. "That's usually a good thing."
"The uh... sentry ship has disengaged and is pulling away," said Sarah.
"Very good, Sarah, set course for Aleator One. And, Shen, project the image."
The primary station appeared in orbit around the planet. Calvin would have described it as more of a conglomerate of containers and retired spaceships than any kind of platform. But apparently it did the job, despite looking like garbage.
"Wow, what a piece of sh—"
"Miles," Calvin interrupted him. "Come with me, we're going aboard so it's time to suit up."
"Me?"
"Yes, you. Go get your mission clothes from the quartermaster and meet me on deck five. The rest of you will be staying aboard. The minute Miles and I disembark, have the Nighthawk withdraw from the station and engage the stealth system. Then sweep the sector for even the slightest trace of the Harbinger, but do not approach Aleator One again until I give you the order, is that clear?"
"Yes, sir," said Summers.
"Good. And Shen, tap into the local databases and mine whatever information you can. I want to know if the Harbinger ever arrived, if it docked, if it took on or let off any passengers, I want to know everything. And flag every name on the Harbinger’s manifest, see if anyone had any history here—coordinate your efforts with the deck two analysts as needed."
"On it," said Shen.
"Excellent. Summers, you have the deck."