Prison Ship (30 page)

Quinn’s expression went blank for a few seconds. “He is a powerful man indeed. Where is he now?”

“Down on Earth.”

“He is?” Quinn ran his hand through his spiky brown hair. “I’ll have the pleasure of gutting him myself.”

“Steiner’s being presented a medal. You couldn’t get near him.”

“Find out where his ship will be stationed next week. When I return to the Empire, I’ll set an ambush for them.”

Jamison shook his head. “You can’t get back. New ship placement orders went into effect this morning. All the gaps have been closed off. We can’t even send out a message. A new transmission-blocking grid has been deployed along the border regions. Apparently, someone’s been listening to Steiner.”

Quinn’s face hardened. “Had you been informed of these changes beforehand?”

“No. That’s what worries me. I suspect they are onto me. That’s why I asked you here. We have to act tonight, or all is lost.”

“You have a plan?”

“Yes. Since the new battle positioning of the ships needs to be reported to your superiors, and we can’t transmit anything to them, we’ll have to smuggle a computer disk with all the materials on it into the New Order Empire.”

“Yes, but you just said, all the holes we used to use have been closed up. How can we get through without being boarded?”

Jamison smiled. “You served with Joseph Barker on the P.A.V.”

“Just for a few days before he was murdered.”

“Do you think you can start a mutiny on Steiner’s ship?”

The wintry eyes glistened. “Just kill the captain.”

“No,” Jamison replied. “I mean lead a mutiny, subjugate the crew, and use the vessel to smuggle the computer disk into the Empire. It’s the only way. From these revised orders, the P.A.V. will be patrolling the southern border. You’ll have to keep Steiner alive until you get to the border, to avoid any suspicion, then kill him.”

Quinn ran his fingers through his bristly hair. “It sounds like an interesting challenge. Can you get me on board by tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll forge the transfer orders tonight. I have a man I trust, who can switch Steiner’s real Orders disk with a phony one, which will contain all the new U.S.S. plans.”

“What about the P.A.V.’s passwords? I’ll need them.”

“Yes. I’ve already arranged to have someone break into Suzanne Riggs’s office and steal them from her personal computer.”

“Is he worthy of your trust?”

“Most of the time. He helped me acquire McKillip’s files from his late wife. Maybe you remember him? He has a distinctive ponytail.”

STEINER looked out from the side of the stage at the multitude of tuxedos and glittering evening gowns within the massive auditorium. The guest list included only the most elite of government officials and their spouses. Commodore Cole sat in one of the front rows, beaming with excitement. Among the row of the president’s staff sat Isaac Steele, looking uncomfortable.

Fingering the computer card in his pocket, Steiner was thankful that Mason was going to escape possible prosecution, but his stomach still turned with worry over his missing weapons officer. Why had Tramer run off? Had he gone looking for his wife and daughter? After all, a small girl’s scream had incited him to run away. Maybe Tramer had gone to search for them—but then again, how would he know where to look? What would he do if he found them? Nerves sparked a trail from Steiner’s head to his feet, making all his body hair stand on end. Would Tramer hurt his wife for taking his daughter away? Worse yet, would he try to take her back? Steiner would have dismissed the thought, but after what had happened the previous night, he couldn’t be sure anymore.

The live orchestra began the anthem for the United Star Systems, bringing the entire assembly to their feet. From the opposite side of the stage, President Lindsey strolled out to a podium at the center. A deafening eruption of clapping drowned out all the other sounds in the auditorium. After the gathering reseated themselves, the president gave a speech of how peace and unity would one day be restored to the galaxy. When he finished, he introduced his guest of honor.

Most of the officials rose to their feet and gave him a standing ovation, but a few quietly remained seated.

Steiner walked up to the president and accepted his outstretched hand. Looking into the elderly man’s face, he saw earnest gratitude reflected there. This handshake was more than just a token gesture. From out of his suit jacket, the man produced a small case with the initials L.H. on it and opened it. The overhead spotlights played on the surface of the gold medallion contained within.

“Six years ago, Louis Harrison discovered the New Order Empire’s plans to invade,” the president said. “Because of his intervention, we were able to prevent the First Invasion from moving in any farther than Macrales. I am presenting the medallion named in Harrison’s honor to Jacob Steiner, for his initiative in preserving the United Star Systems from another major invasion.”

He lifted the ribbon over Steiner’s head. In the front row, Cole marched up the center aisle to the front of the auditorium, in view of the entire assembly, and saluted. The cheers increased, and several of the seated admirals rose to their feet also. Steiner held his breath as joy and guilt battled within him.

Tramer, where are you?

Shielding himself with a fake smile, Steiner thanked the crowd. The president invited anyone who wanted to assemble in the courtyard to offer personal congratulations to Steiner. Steiner dreaded the thought. He didn’t have time for that. As he retreated behind the curtain, his stomach turned as he envisioned a pack of lions gathering to tear him apart with questions.

Suzanne met him backstage. “What are we going to do about Commodore Cole needing a computer program to deliver to Military Intelligence?”

“Give him this.” He gave her the computer card and told her the key phrase required to make it work.

“Did Bricket make this?”

“Yes,” he lied.

“Will this be good enough to fool Military Intelligence?”

“Absolutely.”

She breathed with relief. “Oh thank goodness. I thought we were sunk. Let’s go give it to Cole together. They are expecting you in the courtyard.”

“I can’t go with you,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” she asked. “They’re expecting you—you’re the guest of honor.”

“I have to find Tramer,” he replied.

“I agree, but find him later.”

Steiner fingered the gold medallion slung around his neck. “I don’t feel right about this. This award belongs to Tramer, not me.” He lifted it over his head, but she stopped him.

“By giving this to you, the president is also honoring him for his service,” she said. “After all, he is under your command.”

“All the more reason I have to go looking for him right now.”

“No,” she shouted. “You’re not leaving.” She grabbed his arm and started toward the reception but couldn’t move him. “Please, I can’t go in there without you.”

Steiner held her by the shoulders. “You know as well as I do that the longer it takes to find Tramer, the more the risk that someone will discover he’s missing.”

“What am I going to say to the others about their guest of honor’s being absent?”

He struggled and smiled. “I’ve never known you to be at a loss for words. If nothing else, tell them I’ve gone to find the real hero.”

She groaned. “Make sure both of you are on that ship at nine hundred hours, Earthstation time.” She moved forward, kissed him full on the lips, then stormed away into the courtyard without looking back.

Steiner stood in the corridor, stunned.

THREE hours passed before the reception died down enough for Suzanne to excuse herself.

She walked through the deserted hallways of the fifty-second floor of the military headquarters on her way to her office. She hoped to finish composing the orders for Jake’s replacement convicts before the morning’s launch. Questions troubled her mind.
How far has Jake traveled by now? Will he find Tramer? Will they return before they are reported missing?

She remembered announcing to all the guests that Jake had left prematurely because of a sudden illness. Just as she had feared, they refocused their attention on her. Never once had she lost her composure even when she thought she would. She smoothly evaded all of their questions, pretending to be ignorant of everything.

She wondered if she might actually be in love with him. When she had served under him aboard the
Valiant
, she admired him because he was as ambitious as she, but he never stepped on people like she did to move up. She hated to admit it, but she had even used him as a foothold when she asked him to captain the P.A.V. Much to her surprise, he had again succeeded in boosting his career far beyond hers. Maybe she loved him. He had become everything she wished she could be.

At the entrance to her office, she entered the security code in the control panel. Nothing happened. Upon closer examination, she noticed someone had broken the locking mechanism.

Her blood ran cold. Her fingers slipped through the mouth of her purse and tightened around the handle of a miniature pistol. She used a key to pop out the emergency hand crank. Quietly, she pumped the mechanism until the entrance cracked wide enough for her to squeeze through.

Shadows draped the office, but a light showed through the doorway to the back chamber, where she kept her personal computer. The faint rustling of movement sounded from within it. Every muscle in her body stiffened. Her lungs froze in the middle of a breath.

Common sense instructed her to call the security guards before confronting the burglar. But by the time they arrived, the intruder might already be gone. Armed with a gun—regardless of its size—and the element of surprise, she figured she’d be more than a match for one thief.

She stepped gingerly past her desk, keeping her small gun trained on the open doorway. A satchel sat just inside the next chamber with the words COMPUTER MAINTENANCE stenciled on it.

She hesitated for a second, unsure of herself. Could it be? No, certainly not. She knew all of the maintenance staff. None of them would have come there so late, not without getting her permission beforehand.

A series of beeps sounded from her computer, indicating that it had started transmitting data to another console. She jolted slightly when she heard footsteps heading her way. She held her breath. Her trigger finger tensed. A man with black hair tied back in a ponytail appeared in the doorway and bent down to retrieve something from his bag. He froze in mid-motion, his hand still in his satchel, and looked up at her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, adding an innocent smile. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. You must be Suzanne Riggs.”

She kept her pistol pointed at him. “The outside door has been forced open.”

“Yes, I know,” he answered, without moving. “The building’s security guards discovered it as it is. I was called in to repair the damage done by burglars in order to ensure you could use this office tomorrow. Weren’t you informed I was here?” His hand rummaged through the satchel. “I have a work order, if you don’t believe me.”

“Put your hands in the air—now,” she shouted.

The man’s gaze held hers for a split second. Terror squeezed her confidence into mush. The hypnotizing eyes drew her in, seducing her to lower her guard.

With lightning speed, he pulled out a large gun from the bag and aimed it at her. She would have died if it hadn’t been for her reflexes. Without even thinking about it, she shot him, striking him in the chest just as he fired his weapon. His bolt sliced the air just centimeters from her right ear. With a look of shock imprinted on his face, the man fell to the floor.

Her heart racing, Suzanne glanced at the large smoldering hole in the wall behind her. That could have been her head. She nearly lost her balance from the sudden nausea building up inside her.

Gathering up all her remaining courage, she knelt by the fallen man and picked up his weapon. How did an ordinary burglar get an AT-7 past the building’s security checkpoints? She searched inside his pockets for identification but found nothing.

Her personal computer emitted another set of tones. She stepped over the man to examine the glowing screen. Sequences of letters and numbers—the P.A.V.’s passwords—scrolled up as the machine transmitted each code out to another destination.

“Jamison,” she breathed. No one else would have known how to access her files.

Using the command keys, she tried to cut off the transfer, but the program refused to stop before the completion of its task. She grumbled in frustration when she saw that the computer had already sent out the P.A.V.’s recognition code along with the passwords that protected the command center, armory, landing bay, and other high-risk areas. She couldn’t allow it to finish the entire list. It would take days to reprogram them all.

She picked up a chair and smashed it against the console. It flared up in sparks, and the screen went dark. Furious at having to destroy her own terminal, she threw the chair down. Jamison would pay dearly for—