3 days later, April 3rd, 2264. 08:30 CNS Fargo – Brig
John was smiling as he walked to the brig. It was hard to not be in a good mood. He caught a couple of traitors and had a good night of sleep. And the breakfast he had this morning. Thanks to that his stomach was full of eggs, bacon, waffles, and syrup. He wanted more waffles, but duty called.
Not even the drab interior of the ship could alter John’s mood. Strictly speaking, the interiors of these ships were functional. They were painted in various shades of gray. Some accent colors here and there would be yellows or blues, depending on the class of the ship. They were a far cry from personal vessels or freighters which the owners did take the time to customize and make them more welcoming.
If all went well, they’d be back home soon. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t be receiving any left though. The operation began a largescale disbursement of its assets. John was also left with a small mountain of paperwork to complete. Thanks in no small part to the pair of traitors he was dealing with.
That was the real reason causing that extra jump and pep in his step. John could imagine the sight of Director LeCroix sucking enough lemons to cause a black hole to erupt from his mouth. Of all military members to have uncovered the pair of traitors, John was the literal worst person to have that knowledge. He wasn’t one to be generous and kind to the Director. Too much bad blood between them from his acrimonious send-off was present for John to be charitable.
A full-scale investigation into all NI personnel had already been ordered amongst the top brass as a result of the pair. Fleet command, who generally is hands-off with them, was forced to send auditors and senior officers to review the policies and procedures. Naval Intelligence, normally one that would make disguised threats against the requestors, did no such thing and accepted, however reluctant, the auditors.
To say that they now wore a black eye was the understatement of the century. It also meant that John was elevated to be the de facto senior agent in charge of the case. The downside to this new revelation meant that if this operation failed it would be his head on the chopping block. And his workload would double or triple practically overnight.
John reached his destination, stopped in front of the scanning device, and waited patiently for the system to acknowledge and clear him into the room. A loud chime was heard before the doors opened. He walked in and looked at the officer in charge. Alicia Baxter was a grim-looking woman; she was more likely to win or get into a barfight than win a beauty contest
“Lieutenant Baxter, how goes the battle?” John said cheerfully.
“Well, Watanabe is in isolation time out. His yelling was getting more than a little annoying, but his hopping around on one leg was, and continues to be, a bit enjoyable,” Alicia said with a smirk, “Nice work by the way.”
“You are most welcome; I am pleased to hear that I’ve brightened your mood in this dark and boring room.”
“Who are you here to see?”
“Well, Dexter was up first but if he’s acting like a little bitch then I’ll work on the newly demoted Ensign Murphy.”
“Oof, she lost her rank already?” Alicia said with a surprised look on her face, “You and the tribunal didn’t waste any time at all.”
John grinned as he grabbed a chair and dragged it in front of Deborah’s cell, “It was JAGs call more than me. But I have been burning the midnight oil. I presume the recording devices are on?”
Alicia nodded, “Yup, she’s awake and dressed. Doubt she’ll want to talk.”
John sat down and waited for the EM shield to go transparent, “Good morning, Deborah.”
Deborah Murphy looked despondent. She sat up in her bed but stared at the floor. It wasn’t possible for her to make eye contact with John. Unlike Dexter, she wasn’t raging at being locked up, she had already accepted it for what it was.
“Good morning. Are you here to tell me when my death sentence is?”
John shook his head, “Nope. I’m here to collect your statement and any evidence you’d like to share. I’m not entirely convinced the death penalty fits you.”
“I’m a convicted felon. Of treason no less, what makes you think I won’t be put to death?”
“Why don’t you tell me that?” John asked the simple probing question.
Deborah sighed, “How much do you know?”
“Why not stop presuming I know anything at all and speak to me of why you believe that sentence isn’t a just one for you?”
More sighing came from the cell before Deborah looked at John, “You were wrong about my supposed incompetence.”
“Not entirely. Your historical reports were less than desirable. Three weeks into this operation your team’s, doubly so yours, work began its descent to the current levels. Do you want to talk about that?” John asked.
“Dexter recruited me then. Initially, I thought it was just NI’s and his decision that this was a wild goose chase. Then he sent me some videos to watch, which I guess were propaganda now, from Dr. Norman’s organization about the need to improve humanity. I guess I bought into the mantra.”
“The videos had subliminal messages. Unless you had a strong mind it would’ve been hard to not buy into his bullshit. Did Dexter offer anything else?”
“Sex and money.”
“He’s not exactly a good catch. Dexter’s an ugly bastard,” John said sarcastically, “How much was Dexter willing to pay you?”
Deborah looked at the floor, “He promised to push through a promotion for me when the operation got shut down. It was ten thousand a month.”
John chuckled, “You ever find out how much Dr. Norman was paying him?”
“Twenty is what he said.”
“Try a hundred.”
Deborah’s eyes bulged as she stood up and walked to the EM shield, “Are you fucking kidding me? That rat fucking bastard was getting a hundred a month?”
“At least. We’re still researching his finances. It’s a hundred at a minimum, though it could be higher.”
“Wonderful, I thought my life away because of stupidity.”
“And a chunk of money. You neglected to include all of that money in your tax filing this year. Oh, not to pile on or anything but you’re getting hit with two charges of tax evasion. IRS notified me this morning.”
“Big shocker,” Deborah was pacing back and forth in her cell, “Tell me honestly, what’s my chances?”
“Of what?”
“Getting a new arm and getting out of jail?”
John leaned forward and smirked, “What do you have that I don’t know? Or can’t find out?”
“You probably have already tossed my room apart. You found a little black box in there, right?”
John nodded.
“Well, that has all my personal logs and includes a whole lot of incriminating evidence on Dexter. He was taking multiple bribes from several groups.”
“Intel like that isn’t going to save your ass or grow a new arm.”
“Dr. Norman has vast connections to biology departments in hundreds of Confederate universities. How else do you think he can staff all of these labs.”
“Expand,” John commanded.
“How and who they are, I can’t say. I did try to dig that information up, but I didn’t have clearance for that. Dexter said he had seen that information and even made a copy of it. He did say it had something to do with his other name.”
“Oh, for fucks sake. Why didn’t I think of that,” John said as he stood up and walked to a terminal, “Jerad, run a scan of any donations or any connections to research facilities and universities of Dr. Abel Jansen. This supersedes anything you are working on.”
John walked back and sat down, “What was the name of the folder or folders this information was stored in?”
“Holy hell, you have access to the server,” Deborah stood there stunned, “How in the hell?”
John was not in the mood to expand his question, “Name of the folders?”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“Ascension Protocol and Crossfire Ridge.”
John pulled up his tablet and pulled up both of those folders, “What am I looking for here?”
“You need a cipher to translate everything in those folders,” Deborah sat down with a smirk on her face, “This is where I now have the leverage.”
John nodded as he looked at the document, “I’d be careful were I you, Deborah. You have no idea what I have. Your only hope of continued existence is to give everything you have willingly. You hold back anything, and it could backfire on you.”
Deborah laughed, “What could backfire?”
“The fast forward button your execution gets pressed. The moment you stop helping and instead change to a position of stubbornness or noncompliance is the moment your usefulness ends. When you are no longer useful to the Confederacy then that means you no longer need to be here. Traitors don’t exactly have a place here.”
“Look, I don’t want to die, but if I give you everything what assurances do I have that you won’t just space me?”
John leaned forward in his chair, “Deb, I would love nothing more than to put an eleven-millimeter round between your eyes and end you. Then toss your corpse in the low orbit of a gas giant. With that said, you are looking at the one and only hope of your living. Cut the shit and tell me what I need to hear. If it’s the truth and verifiable I can work with you. If not, well you know what your fate will be.”
Deborah stood up and began pacing in the cell. Her face looked pained as she struggled with what to do. The fact that she had no leverage to use was dawning on her. She desperately wanted to play the part of a belligerent asshole, but she wanted to secure some sort of future for herself, possibly one where she was free. Ultimately her sense of self-preservation won out.
She stopped and stared down at John, “Naval Intelligence isn’t going to let me go free. I’ll be erased.”
John nodded as he walked over to the cell and slid a data slate through a portal. Deborah quickly grabbed it and looked at it. She started to laugh when she saw the plan.
“No. Absolutely not. What if they find out I’m a Confed soldier?”
“If you leave that world, it’d be a problem. That new ID will work if you stay put. And you need to stay at the station in case I need to speak with you. Probably at least six to twelve months.”
“I need money to live off of.”
John grinned, “A modest unit on that station will run you thirty thousand. You’ll get fifty. If you want any more money, then you had best find some kind of work that suits whatever strengths you may have.”
“Why are you helping me of all people?”
“Because I pity you. This was clearly not your scheme. Additionally, you were weak-willed enough to fall for this bullshit propaganda. The station chief had eyes for a bigger role. You did too and decided to ride his coattails,” John laughed, “Well you rode more than that I guess. Props to you for finding two ways to get to the top. Too bad your skills and abilities were woefully inadequate for your role.”
Deborah was placed in the cell once more.
“Clock’s ticking, I’m giving you the out of your life, and you are stalling me.”
“I need a new arm, obviously,” Deborah said, “But I will comply.”
“Smart move,” John said as he leaned forward in his chair, “Let’s hear everything.”
2 days later, April 5th, 2264. 16:30 CNS Fargo – Platoon Offices
In the past thirty-six hours, John had convinced Deborah to fully debrief and lay everything bare. Dr. Norman was a bit of a history buff and was overjoyed when they got their hands on the quantum-paired devices. To John’s great annoyance it was a brilliant way to transfer intelligence surreptitiously. It was so damned clever he couldn’t help but respect the scheme.
Dexter Watanabe, the former top-ranking intelligence officer at St. Mary’s station was the initial double agent. A closer investigation of the videos confirmed that subliminal messages were significantly stronger than suspected. These types of adverts have long been banned in Confederate territories because of their ability to change acceptable behaviors in normal-minded individuals. It was a very curious case of how these videos were not flagged for their illicit content.
Ultimately, Deborah sold her soul for a pittance of what Dexter was able to get. And she was set up to take the fall for it too unbeknownst to her. That was another thing John had to respect, just how damn sneaky Dexter was. He wasn’t sneaky enough though. The extenuating circumstances were the videos, and when she viewed them. She had a legitimate argument that all of her actions were because of the videos.
Dexter, unlike Deborah, was completely unwilling to talk or admit anything. He told off John in some very curious and interesting ways. His expression changed when John smiled through the insults. When John said he needed nothing from him and to give his respects to the maker his tune changed. By then John had reactivated the shield’s solitary confinement mode.
Now the tricky part for John was how he was going to fulfill his secretive bargain with Deborah. She was convicted of a serious felony. The military court would require her to be present for her immediate sentencing upon arrival at St. Mary’s station.
On the issue of her arm, the ship had already begun the process of growing a new arm for her immediately when they had confirmation from John that it was lost during the operation. The medical staff either ignored or didn’t understand that it was not exactly lost due to the operation but removed in a scuffle because of their own actions. In any case, it didn’t matter whether she was or wasn’t a traitor to the medical staff.
“Lieutenant,” Commander Robert Bettany said, “Good news, the female traitor had her arms successfully reattached. No signs of rejection.”
John nodded, “Much appreciated doc.”
“Is there a reason why this was as urgent as it was? We’re not doing the same for the station chief.”
“I have my reasons, Doctor.”
Robert sighed loudly, “Don’t suppose you’d share those reasons with me?”
“Afraid not. This whole mess has turned into the counter-intel ops of counter-intel ops.”
Robert shook his head, “She’ll need physical therapy but she was able to move the arm a bit before she fell asleep.”
“What are the risks of infection or rejection?”
“An infection in the soft tissue that we reunited the arm with could lead to the loss of the limb. That’s unlikely though. As for rejection though?” Robert paused, “I don’t believe there’s much of a risk. Though the arm is not going to regain full movement without constant PT for several months. I’ve given her exercises she must do.”
“Any risk of overworking it?”
“Sure, but the risk there is serious soreness but there shouldn’t be any risk to the limb itself.”
“Understood, I presume the prisoner was transported back to her cell?”
“She is still under observation but is resting. A guard is present in the room to ensure she doesn’t do anything squirrely.”
“Understood. Thanks again Doc.”
John looked back at his terminal and reviewed everything they had taken from the base. Then he cross-checked that against a list of all remaining items that had been seized that were still onboard the ship. He smiled and left his office when he saw an item on the manifest.
17:20 CNS Fargo – Main Hangar
John walked around the nondescript shuttle. He pressed the external button to lower the rear ramp and walked inside. He powered on the computer and began running a diagnostic. His focus was interrupted.
“Lieutenant, what are you doing with this jalopy?” Chief Engineer Omar Hizban asked.
“Evening Chief, wanted to review a few things from the nav database.”
“That information was already transferred over to the investigative team. I’m sure you got it.”
John shrugged and lied, “I didn’t see anything in the records I have. Either it was sent to the wrong person or put in the wrong place. I won’t be long though.”
“I must insist that you not bring its main power online. I’ve got orders from NI that they want this shuttle for something.”
John nodded, “I may have to online some systems. If I do, I’ll include it in a report and notify you accordingly. The reserve power should get me to what I want though.”
“Maybe I wasn’t clear. You aren’t turning this old heap on. You may only access systems through reserve power only. If you can’t get it while the damn thing is plugged in, then you will be waiting for it.”
“Alright, alright, it’s your boat,” John said defensively as he stared at the terminal in front of him.
“I mean it, Lieutenant, go around me and there’s going to be hell to pay.”
“I will comply with your orders Lieutenant.”
John grinned as reviewed the ship’s status. It was nearly full of fuel, so it could easily get to the destination, an Alliance station over an agricultural world. Omar either ignored or didn’t see the black bag John had tucked under the console next to his feet.
In it was twenty-one days’ worth of MREs for Deborah to consume on her trip. In a truly petty move, John had picked the MREs that she was least likely to enjoy eating. Most MREs were not enjoyable but at least edible. The ones he had selected bordered on inedible, penance he figured she needed to pay for her actions.
Just before he was done, John loaded a run time onto the main computer that would turn the shuttle on in the most efficient manner. All told the shuttle should be able to leave the docking bay within sixty-eight seconds of the runtime being engaged. Her point and vehicle of exfiltration were set, getting her there was now his next task.
4 days later, April 9th, 2264. 02:12 CNS Fargo – Brig
The EM shield in front of Deborah’s cell shut down unexpectedly. She stood up and peeked her head out into the room. A terminal had an arrow and ‘Quickly’ blinking below it. She jogged to the door where it suddenly opened to her great surprise.
Deborah jumped back but again, there was a terminal in the hallway with an arrow. She knew then that John must’ve been involved somehow. He was guiding her to someplace on the ship.
The destination was apparent after two more turns. One of the main doors to the hangar was in front of her. It opened long before she was near the door’s sensors could recognize her. Lights on the floor directed her to the shuttle.
The shuttle itself was lowering the rear ramp. She hopped onto the lowering ramp and stepped into the shuttle. The ramp immediately began closing. The terminal then turned on and a prerecorded message from John began playing.
“When this message is done playing press the green button that is blinking. It will do multiple things, including turning this on, releasing the docking clamps, and opening the docking bay door. The shuttle is pre-programmed to take you to the Gamma Rho system. And only the Gamm Rho system.”
Deborah groaned.
“Boring I know. The orbital station will be your home for the foreseeable future. Once our operation is done then you are free to go to the surface of the planet. Your new legal documents are in the black briefcase, along with a credit chit with the agreed-upon money. Your clothing is in the duffel bag. MREs are in the leg well of the pilot’s station. If you leave that system, you are on your own, I strongly suggest that you don’t.”
She rummaged through everything. To her great surprise, everything was there. She wasn’t happy with the MREs though. Six of the seven combos weren’t to her liking. She looked up at the screen again.
“It’s time to hit the green button and leave. As long as you stay at the station you’ll be protected. Leave the station early and Dr. Norman will find you. And find you he will if you don’t follow my orders. Once all this is over, I’d suggest living a quiet life as a farmer’s wife. If you try to get in with the Alliance’s intelligence division, it’ll end poorly for you. Your best bet is for the authorities to not know you were military at one time. I hope for your sake you make smarter decisions in the future.”
John paused in the message but then he spoke again, “Dexter didn’t offer to cooperate at all. I’m glad you were wise enough to share your information. You caught me by surprise by not lying to me at all, as a result, there’s some extra cash on that chit, but it’s not enough to retire on. Safe travels.”
Deborah wasted no time hitting the green button. A minute later the shuttle engaged its thrusters gently and pushed itself through the EM barrier and out into slip space. She half expected the ship to turn around or shoot her, but the Fargo maintained its pace and direction.
Freedom, of sorts, was hers once again. Though why she was in the position she was in would bother her for years to come, she was determined to heed his advice. Enjoying a boring life on the frontier would be infinitely better than rotting away in jail, or worse.