A Quiet Little War Part I: Revelations

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A Quiet Little War Part I: Revelations

by baybelletrist

Rated: M

Summary: When a cargo ship is attacked in a remote area of space, the Series Five Rangers investigate. What they find leads them on a disturbing trail of secrets and lies to a danger none of them expected.

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Chapter 1: Prologue

Sun Garden Mall

Phoenix, Arizona

12/21/2098

 

 

Crowds streamed along the sunlit sidewalks. Traffic moved sluggishly through the congested streets. The small, pale-blond girl in the bright red coat moved easily among the holiday shoppers with their bundles and bags. She pulled behind her by the hand a woman bundled in a heavy brown overcoat.

"Stop sulking," the girl said over her shoulder. She spoke with a crisp authority that contrasted oddly with her age, for she looked no more than eight years old. "I have a job to do, and I don't have time for your prejudices."

The woman kept silent, but the corners of her mouth twitched downward. The child's lips tightened, and suddenly the woman gasped and started.

"People remember an angry face," the girl said. "Smile. If you can't smile, look tired. I'm told tired is normal this time of year."

The woman bit her lip. Her face assumed a more neutral expression.

"Better."

They waited at a corner for the light to change, and the girl let her eyes rove over the crowds. Her nose wrinkled very slightly. :They're like so many sheep.:

:What were you expecting, Winter? A city full of geniuses?:

Winter's lips twitched in a smirk. :Not likely! Have the spotters seen them yet?:

:They're exactly on time.: Susanna's mindvoice held a wealth of sarcasm. :Just what we've been led to expect of Galaxy Ranger Captain Zachary Foxx. They're using the east entrance to the mall. The four Rangers... plus Foxx's two kids.:

:Am I supposed to imprint the kids, too?: The light changed, and Winter stepped forward, tugging her escort, Lucinda, behind her. As they were passing, a tall woman in a red hat looked down at Winter and smiled before glancing at Lucinda.

"Looks like your little girl is very eager to do her Christmas shopping."

Winter let her face round in a beaming smile as she squeezed her escort's hand in a warning. Susanna's voice sniggered in her head.

:Of course you're supposed to imprint the kids. What a cow! That hat is perfect for tossing into the street... There's a truck coming.:

Lucinda spoke at the same moment. "She does like her shopping." Her voice held just the right measure of affection tempered by weariness. She reached forward and stroked Winter's pale hair. Only Winter's telepathic gift betrayed the woman's revulsion; Lucinda was too experienced an operative, Winter knew, to let her feelings show in face, voice, or gesture.

:At least when she's "on.": Susanna's mental voice grew chilly. :I'd have done worse than just pinch her.:

As she and Lucinda passed the woman by, Winter sent the mental equivalent of a shrug. :It did the job. She remembered that there are worse things than touching one of us... Like quietly disappearing.: Winter let her eyes lose focus for a moment. :That woman's heart isn't in very good shape.: She let Lucinda take the lead and open the door of the shopping mall. Warm air billowed out, carrying the sounds of canned music and children's voices. Winter wrinkled her nose again.

:He says remember why you're there,: Minako cut in. :Teacher told him you were prying. And Teacher says be careful. This is very dangerous.:

Winter shrugged again and pushed ahead. She wended her way among more crowds of people, rubbing her forehead absently at the buzz generated by so many minds. The whole place was a nauseating array of color, light, and noise, a jarring contrast to the relative quiet of the training base. :You really couldn't get imprints through the video feed, Susanna?: she asked privately.

:No,: the older girl snarled on tightbeam, :I really couldn't. Patterns of ones and zeroes on a storage medium—there's no mind there to find! If they wanted imprints remotely they should have stolen personal items for you to snoop with.:

Winter flinched. :I'm sorry.: Through the general link, :Where are they?: 

:Foxx's kids asked to stop at the chocolate shop, seven doors in from the east entrance,: Susanna answered. :Foxx is inside with them and that woman. The freak and Hartford are just outside.:

Winter and Lucinda moved at a leisurely pace down the mall. From the corner of her eye Winter saw Lucinda, fully in character now, looking about as if considering where to go first. They kept moving at the same swinging stride, in and out of the crowds. Ahead, Winter saw the atrium where the four wings of the mall came together in a cross shape. At this time of year a huge artificial tree dominated the space. As they drew near she saw a line of children and adults, clearly queued up for something. Winter craned her neck to see and realized that the adults were waiting for the chance to put their children in the lap of an old, obese, white-haired man in a hideous red-and-white costume. :What is that? They call these people normals, but they're bizarre!:

:Winter!: Susanna's mental voice tightened. :The spotter thinks the freak's seen him. He's moving on. He wants to know if you can take it from here. The backup spotter says she'll need a few minutes to get into place.:

Winter and Lucinda rounded the crowd of children and parents, and in the distance Winter caught an unmistakable flash of auburn hair.

:Tell her not to bother. I've got them in line of sight.: 

She and Lucinda kept walking hand in hand, moving steadily toward the eastern end of the mall. As they approached the group, Winter stared, taking in impressions, sounds, feelings: 

The tall, wary blond man in black towered over the graceful woman with waist-length auburn hair who smiled up at him and then turned to accept a chocolate from the leggy brown-haired boy who looked so like the tall brown-haired man whose blue eyes laughed down at the golden-haired, ponytailed girl who held his hand and giggled helplessly at the joke the smiling brown-skinned man had just made...

Through the link, Winter felt Susanna smile.

:We have them. Come home, Winter.:

As Winter and Lucinda passed by, Ranger Niko of no family name looked around suddenly, as if someone had called her name. Winter smiled, already deep behind her shields, her grey eyes as chilly as the season. She looked up at Lucinda.

"Mission accomplished... Mommy."

Chapter 2

On board Ranger One

2/20/2099, 1437

 

 

"This is the Earth cargo ship Saoirse calling BETA. We have been attacked near the Brimstone System and left flying off course. Our ship's AI is in psychological distress. Request immediate assistance. Earth cargo ship Saoirse to BETA Mountain, request assistance. Please respond, repeat, please respond."

Tense and urgent, the woman's light alto voice held the rhythms of a native of Eire.

Commander Joseph Walsh, framed in the comm screen of Ranger One, touched a key on his desk and sat back in his chair. "The distress call came in twenty minutes ago. We've been unable to contact the Saoirse so far, but they're in an area near the Brimstone system that's known for interfering with radio transmissions. I know you're on your way home, but you're closer than any other unit, so I'm diverting you to investigate."

Zachary Foxx frowned. "They weren't very specific about the problem with their ship. Are we still trying to raise them?"

"Yes, Zachary. Lieutenant McIntyre is standing by, awaiting word from the comm center."

Shane Gooseman considered the recording. Brimstone System... Why's that familiar? "Commander, wasn't there some kind of trouble out that way not long ago?"

Walsh cocked an eyebrow. "You're familiar with the Diego Jihad?"

It clicked in Goose's mind, and with the name came memories of an old briefing. "Basically," he answered. "Some kind of local religious revolt on Brimstone that kicked up a couple years back, wasn't it?"

"The founders of Brimstone were peaceful, deeply religious, and committed to building a society not dependent on high technology," Niko said softly. Goose heard a thread of anger in her voice. "They didn't consider technology evil; they just wanted a simpler way of life. They were considering joining the League when the Diego Jihad started. The Jihad bombed settlements and archaeological sites, murdered civilians, and seized control of the system before the League could agree on a course of action. They're—well, they're not completely anti-technology; they just consider some high technology—like AI's, genetic engineering, and the like—an abomination. Anything that could be interpreted as 'playing God,' essentially. They have no problem with radios and spacecraft, though." She paused. "Or bombs."

Walsh cleared his throat, and Niko fell silent. "As a result of the incident, there's a no-fly zone around the Brimstone system, authorized by the Board of World Leaders and the League of Planets," Walsh said.

"Not that a no-fly zone really means squat in space," Goose noted. "Space is so damn big that effective blockades become nearly impossible unless you've got a huge number of ships."

Walsh said, "True, Gooseman, but the PKF has managed to catch a few blockade runners closer to the planet, where they've concentrated their forces. In any case, there's some concern that the Saoirse may have violated the zone."

"But the peacekeeping forces have authorization to shoot down noncompliant ships," Zach pointed out. "The distress call said they were 'attacked and left flying off course,' whatever that means, not that they were shot up and left drifting. That tells me they're still in shape to fly. And they didn't report damage to the ship."

The wall screen blinked into life to display Sheela McIntyre, Walsh's adjutant. "Commander, incoming transmission from the communications center," she announced. The face of a comm center technician replaced Sheela's.

"Commander Walsh, we've managed to raise the Saoirse," the man said. "Patching through."

The screen flickered, fuzzed into static, and cleared. The sharp, tired face of a middle-aged human woman took shape. Her dark hair was cropped short in a spacer's cut.

"I'm Captain Dervla Brennan of the Saoirse," she said. "You are?"

"Joseph Walsh, commander of BETA," Walsh replied. "You have the Series Five Rangers on the other half of your screen. How can we help you, Captain Brennan?"

Relief softened Brennan's expression. "It looks like we were attacked  by pirates," she said. "We were traveling near the Brimstone system, well outside the no-fly zone, when the entire crew lost consciousness. When we all woke, the better part of our cargo was gone. But there's no trace of gas that we can detect, and no one's suffering the aftereffects of a stun blast. And I swear to you we weren't anywhere close to the zone."

Brennan hesitated. A brief burst of radio noise sent a line of static across her image. "That's not the strangest part. The attack was over six hours ago now, Commander Walsh, and our ship's AI has lost every bit of that time.  Aside from the theft, which we think could have been accomplished within two to three hours, we've no idea what happened in those missing six hours. None at all."

 

 

 

On board Saoirse

2/20/2099, 2151 BETA Mountain time

 

 

"Welcome aboard, Captain Foxx." Brennan shook his hand, her grip firm. "We're more than glad to see you, I can tell you. This is Iain MacInnis, my co-pilot." She tipped her head toward the short, wiry man with jet-black hair who stood at her elbow. MacInnis gave Zachary the briefest of nods and passed a quick, bright smile around the group.

Ranger One had made rendezvous with the Saoirse at the coordinates where the crew had regained consciousness. The two ships had docked without incident. The Series Fives and the Saoirse's officers stood now in a corridor just outside the ship's airlock.

Niko was already checking her handheld for readings; Goose, the only one in a pressure suit, looked ready to head right back out the airlock for his external inspection of the Saoirse's hull.

"Thanks, Captain," Zachary said. With a gesture, he indicated the rest of the Series Fives. "My team: Rangers Hartford, Niko, and Gooseman. Ranger Hartford will need to examine your ship's computer. We were told that was the first priority here; from the briefing we were given, I understand your AI isn't doing so well." 

"Indeed he's not, Captain Foxx. How d'you do, Rangers. Ranger Hartford, you'll be talking with Ben Woodhouse, our steward, quartermaster, and computer jockey," Brennan told Doc. "He's most likely in the processor bay—Ben!" she shouted down the corridor. "You've got your help!" Turning back to Doc, she continued, "Hope you've got plenty of practice with this sort of thing. Poor Seamus isn't feeling well at all. He's been saying he's sure he's off his nut. Losing time's bad enough for us humans, but an AI—" She shook her head. "The processor bay's in the aft of the ship on the port side." 

Doc swept her an extravagant bow. "The Doctor is on the case, ma'am." He sauntered away as Goose snorted softly.

"Captain, if you don't have anything else for me to do here, I'll head out," the Supertrooper said. "A cargo ship's got a lot of hull to go over."

"Go ahead, Gooseman. Keep in touch by comm."

Goose saluted and strode to the airlock.

"I've got more work below, as well," Iain MacInnes said. "Aine will still be wanting help, I imagine." He headed aft, turned through a hatch, and vanished from view.

"Problems?" Zach inquired.

Brennan grimaced. "When our AI, Seamus, realized we weren't where we were supposed to be, he had a sort of—fit—and threw us out of warp. The drive needed more than a bit of tuning. Aine ni Suileabhain, our bosun, has been swearing up a storm ever since she came to and heard how it sounded. Not that our medical officer Nuala is much happier, mind you, what with this blackout we all had. Thank God they're both down in engineering, or we'd all have blue ears."

Niko looked up from her scanner. "Captain Brennan," she said quietly, "I haven't picked up any residues of gas yet, but my scanner here isn't calibrated for ultrafine scans."

"I'll take care of that, Niko," Zach put in. "I brought the bigger scanner along. I've got something else in mind for you to do, if you're up for it." She nodded, understanding clear in her eyes, and the corner of Zach's mouth quirked. There are definitely advantages to having a telepathic team member. "Captain Brennan," he added, "where were you when you lost consciousness?"

"On the bridge." Brennan jerked her head toward the nose of the ship. "This way."

"I'll start here, Zach," Niko said. "I'll comm you if I need anything."

"Affirmative."

 

 

Zach frowned down at the scanner and looked around the tiny ship's galley. Same thing as on the bridge: a bit of ordinary knockout gas—and faint traces of MZ-9. Awfully well connected pirates... His wrist comm beeped, and he answered. "Foxx here."

Doc's face blinked into the screen. "Captain, this is the weirdest data swipe I've ever seen. You know Captain Brennan said the memory logs are missing six hours worth of data? Well, get this: the data wasn't just wiped off the memory core. Someone copied everything but those six hours of data onto an entirely new core, pulled the old one, and swapped in a new one. It's even a slight upgrade—they don't make the old model any more."

Zachary stared in blank bewilderment. "Why go to all that trouble? What's the point?"

"Well, you know when data's deleted off a storage medium, it's not really gone, right? It's just marked as available space for the next time the computer needs to store something, so it's possible to recover the deleted data. I guess someone wanted to make sure that couldn't happen. I mean, you can burn drives clean, but it takes hours, and they didn't have the time."

"Understood. Anything else?"

"Well, their flight data checks out; just like Captain Brennan said, they weren't inside the no-fly zone. For whatever that's worth. Does make it a lot less likely the peacekeeping forces could have seen anything, though. I know if I were gonna commit random or not-so-random acts of piracy and mayhem, I'd avoid peacekeeping forces at all costs."

"Thanks for the alert," Zach said dryly. "How's the AI?"

Doc leaned back and flexed his hands with a cracking of knuckles. "The Doctor has operated. Seamus is feeling much more the thing now, as he puts it. While I was in here, I even helped him work out a little twitch he'd developed—"

Zach cleared his throat, and Doc broke off. "Right," he said. "Sorry. You finding anything?"

"They used MZ-9; it's one of the newer military-grade stun gases."

"Hey, I do actually read briefings, you know. So we're definitely not talking just your average common crooks here. Weird. Where do pirates get hold of MZ-9?"

"I don't know," Zach said, "and I don't want to speculate." At least not where civilians can hear me, he thought.

Doc laid one finger alongside his nose and bobbed his head ironically. "Gotcha, Zach. Anyhow, I'm done here. Heading forward."

"Roger. Foxx out."

 

 

Niko stood just behind the pilot's chair on the bridge of the Saoirse, hand on the seat back. Doc lounged against a console nearby, while Zachary stood just by the hatch. Dervla Brennan sat sideways in her seat, head canted sideways to look up at Niko, and watched, curiosity plain in her eyes.

Niko touched the badge at her belt. Her face grew still and intent. "They came through the hatch," she said softly. "Three of them. They never took their p-suits off. I can't see their faces. Injections. They used drugs on the crew to keep them unconscious." Niko closed her eyes in concentration; opened them again. "Captain Brennan, I know Dr. Casey did exams of all the crew members, but did she look at their skin from head to toe?" 

"Only the standard exam, ma'am. It's needle marks we'll have to look for, then?" 

"Yes," Niko said. "And I think taking blood samples would be a good idea. Some drugs leave traces our forensics teams can detect."

Brennan touched the communicator at her wrist and began quietly to issue orders. 

"Anything else, Niko?" Zach asked, keeping his voice low. 

"They came through the airlock, I saw that out in the corridor... And from what I saw in the computer room, one of them did something with the memory core, but we knew that already."

The three looked at each other.

"Let's see what Goose has to say," Niko suggested. "Maybe he'll have the final piece of the puzzle."

 

 

Goose took off his helmet and hung it by the hatch of the airlock. "I've got images for you, Zach," he said, and unclipped his handheld from its holder on his thigh. He held it out and pointed at the image on the screen. Craning his neck, Zach made out a small, round mark just beyond Goose's gloved fingertip. Brennan's bosun stepped forward to peer around Goose's other side.

"They landed a drone on the exterior of the hull, burned through it—probably with a laser—and pumped gas through the breach," Goose said. "They sealed it with the right stuff—looks like professional work. You can see minor scuffing to the enamel here, here,  and here"—the finger tapped the screen—"where the drone's landing gear made contact. If I hadn't been taught how to find that specific kind of damage, I'd have passed over that hole as just another ding from space junk."

Aine ni Suileabhain swore. "Drill holes in my hull, will they?"

"Calm down, Aine," Dervla Brennan ordered. "The Rangers will find the parties responsible or they won't. Be glad Ranger Gooseman saved you the trouble of inspecting the hull yourself."

"It gets better," Goose said. "A drone like this one will usually use that same hole to plug itself into the internal computer network of the ship it's disabling. I'm guessing it launched cracking software to lock down your AI before it actually started pumping the gas—to keep the AI from alerting the crew the atmo was going bad, or from calling for help."

Brennan looked aghast. Ni Suileabhain's face flushed an angry red.

"They were mighty thorough," Doc said. "If Niko couldn't see their faces, neither could the security cameras. From what Goose said, I bet they sent that drone ahead to gas the crew before they even warped out, so none of the crew members could have seen anything on scans or cameras. Same deal goes for Seamus. Poor guy. Not that we'd know if he had seen anything—that missing memory core is the only place you'd find sensor readings, long-range scans, anything that covered the time after the crew passed out but before the pirates boarded."

 Goose thumbed a key on the handheld. "By the way, I noticed a couple of places where the hull's gonna need patching in the next several months," he said to ni Suileabhain. "You want the data?"

The Irishwoman's face grew a bit less grim. "Yes, thanks. I hate doing EVAs, if you want the truth. Can you just beam it over to Seamus, please?" 

Goose hit another key. "Got it. Zach, what's next?"

Zachary stared down at the screen of his handheld. "I think we've picked up all the data we can here," he said. "Captain Brennan, if there's anything else BETA can do to assist you, please let us know. Please be sure to have Dr. Casey follow up with BETA medical regarding the blood tests—plus our docs recommend full physical exams for everyone the next time you're at a port with a certified doctor. Commander Walsh has already told me that if you present yourselves at a BETA facility, there won't be a charge for the exams."

Brennan nodded. "Many thanks, Captain Foxx," she said. "We're grateful for your help." She offered her hand, and they shook.

Zachary looked around at his team. "We've got the coordinates for the site where the Saoirse was ambushed," he said. "Let's go take a look."

Chapter 3

On board Ranger One

Site of the attack on the Saoirse

2/21/2099, 0129 BETA Mountain time

 

 

Doc looked up from his screen. "Well, this is a whole lot of nothing," he complained. "We're outside the no-fly zone, there's no debris, and this is one of the least-used shipping lanes in the entire darn League of Planets. GV, are you having any more luck?" 

"Yes, sir," GV answered. "I've been scanning this entire area since we warped out. As you requested, I concentrated on traces left by drive activity. It appears that an Andorian hyperdrive did indeed emerge from hyperspace within very close range of the Saoirse's last confirmed location."

Zachary sat up a little straighter. "An Andorian drive?" he demanded.

"Yes, sir," GV answered.

"Well, that eliminates Captain Kidd as a suspect," Goose noted.

"Yeah, but it brings in a whole boatload more," Doc said unhappily.

"There," GV said. "Ranger Hartford, I've taken the liberty of downloading the sensor logs to your handheld unit, and Ranger Niko's as well." 

"Thanks, GV," Niko said. "Good work."

"Guess we're done here, then," Doc said. "Hope we make it back to BETA in time for lunch."

 

 

 

Enroute to Earth

 

 

"So, Captain."

Zachary suppressed a smile. "So, Doc," he answered.

Niko, sitting in one of the rear pair of seats, giggled. "That opener won't work on  Zachary, Doc," she said teasingly. "Little Zach's used it once too often."

"Right. So, Zachary—" Doc looked over his shoulder and waggled his eyebrows at Niko, who laughed again—"I've been thinking, and I get the feeling you have a theory you're not sharing. Want to let the rest of us in on it? 'Cause you know that four heads are better than one."

Zachary, seated at the helm, hesitated. "Yes," he said slowly. "It's a touchy subject, though. I know I don't have to tell you all to keep this to yourselves."  Because unless we have hard evidence, all it would do is stir up trouble and cause hard feelings.

"Whatever it is, nobody's gonna hear it from me, my Captain," Doc assured him.

"What's up, Zach?" Goose asked. He unfastened his flight harness and came to lean on the back of Doc's seat.

"I think it starts with the question 'Where do pirates get hold of MZ-9?' And now that I think of it, there's also the one that goes, 'Why do they bother mixing it with regular knockout gas?'" said Doc.

"That last—" Zach said. "I'd guess the attackers were either trying to cover their tracks or stretching their supply of it, maybe both. MZ-9 is in use right now because it dissipates faster than other gases, so troops using it to deal with riots can move in more quickly after deploying it. If we hadn't been on the way home from another mission and in this general area, we might not have gotten here in time for our scanner to pick up the traces. It's also not being manufactured at very many labs right now, so there isn't a lot of it in circulation yet."

 "While we're at it, I've been wondering just what kind of pirate goes to so much trouble not to kill people," Goose said. "I didn't want to say anything in front of the Saoirse crew, but you all remember that hit out near Granna? I had to scrub down three times to get the smell out of my nose. You know as well as I do that that's a lot more typical. "

"Are we sure it was pirates?" Zach asked.

Doc's eyebrows shot upward. "What, you think it wasn't?"

"You said it yourself, Doc—where would pirates get MZ-9?"

"Well, who, then?" Niko asked.

"It's military grade. That suggests that either someone with access to the gas is selling it to pirates or—I don't like to say it—"

"Someone with access is picking up a little extra income on the side?" Goose said. "Now there's an ugly thought."

"Very," Zach agreed.

"Something else, Zach," said Goose. "Drones like the one I described earlier are damned expensive. Theoretically a bunch of pirates with a really good mechanic could salvage parts to build one, but you put it together with MZ-9 and your second theory starts looking more and more likely."

Niko leaned forward. "How are we going to proceed, Zach?"

"Carefully?" suggested Doc.

"I want to come at it from three directions," Zachary said. "We can try to find out if anyone's missing MZ-9. We can establish a list of everyone who has access and search through them for anyone with opportunity and motive—we'll have to cross-check to see who could have participated in the attack on the Saoirse. Finally, we can try to trace the stolen cargo."

"I can work on that first one," Doc said.

Zach involuntarily twitched in his seat.

"What!" Doc said defensively.

"Don't tell him any more, Doc," Goose advised. "Results are everything, method is best not talked about."

Zach ran a hand over his face. "I'm not listening," he muttered.

"It works better if you stick your fingers in your ears and say 'la la la,'" Doc said cheerfully. "It works great for Jessie."

The others burst out laughing.

"Gooseman, you'll assist me in working on the list of possible suspects," Zach said over the laughter. "Niko, you try to trace the stolen cargo."

"All right, Zachary," Niko said agreeably.

 

 

 

Series Five Rangers' office

2/22, 1116

 

 

The office was filled with the sounds of keyboards in use. From across the room, Doc heard Niko on the comm, starting her investigation on the Saoirse's cargo. Zach and Goose sat at their desks, complementary searches running in separate windows, each duplicated on the other's screen. Doc glanced over at a low-voiced command from Goose and watched Elma refine a search result to narrow the field.

Fingers flying, Doc routed requests for data, signed off by Zach, to the appropriate offices within BETA. His CDU rested on the desktop by his keyboard. "Searchlight," he said under his breath, "while we're waiting to hear back on those, have a look through incident reports from any agency that has access to MZ-9. See if there were any times when someone could have gotten to the stores, even if nothing's been reported. Dig?"

The little program flashed a brief acknowledgement in the corner of Doc's screen and was gone.

Doc turned his attention to the preliminary report he was writing on the previous day's findings. In only a few minutes more he had it finished, saved, and signed. "Zach, my Captain!" he called. "Sending my preliminary report on yesterday your way for your sig."

"Acknowledged, Doc," floated back. Doc caught a flash of green eyes as Goose shot him an evil look. Niko finished her call and started typing furiously.

Wait for it—

"Goose, Niko, I haven't seen preliminary reports from either of you two," Zach said. "Please have those to me by the end of the day today."

Doc grinned at Goose, whose glare deepened.

"And leave Doc alone."

Niko snickered. Goose looked disgusted.

"Hey, Doc!" Searchlight was bouncing lazily from one side of Doc's screen to the other, like a billiard ball on tranquilizers. "I got search results for the BETA incident reports, and a Space Navy AI answered one of your queries!"

Doc raised his eyebrows. "That was fast. What've you got?"

"I think he was bored, 'cause he was cranky, too. He says the Navy's not missing any MZ-9. We're not, either."

"Officially or unofficially?" Niko leaned back in her chair and turned her head to listen.

"Well, Searchlight?" Doc asked.

"BETA's not missing any, period," the tweaker answered. "We just did inventory last month and all of the canisters were accounted for. The armory's still under seal and Dorian says nobody's opened that locker since then. The Space Navy hasn't officially reported any missing."

"But—" Niko turned her chair toward Doc's desk. "Who else has access to MZ-9 besides the Ranger Corps, the Space Navy, and—" she broke off. "Oh, surely not. The Planetary Defense Corps? They have only a few deep-space vessels, and anyway—"

"And anyway, if you're real nice and hand 'em a map and a flashlight and maybe point 'em in the right direction," Goose drawled, "they can about find their asses with both hands."

"Gooseman!" Zach chided, but Doc, grinning himself, could see he was working to keep a straight face.

"You missed one," Doc said, growing serious. "The League Peacekeeping Forces."

There was a pause.

"Yeah," said Goose. "I wondered. But actually... we missed two."

Another pause. Zach looked blank, Niko wary.

"What would the Saoirse have to do with planetary security?" Doc asked dubiously, and saw Zach wince.

"Don't know," Goose answered. "But the Office sure seems to have all the resources it wants." He shrugged elaborately. "Just reminding you not to write off our pals in Texas, or whatever rock they're hiding under these days."

"Goose, we haven't narrowed the suspect pool enough to start drawing conclusions," Zach said. Glancing at Doc, he said, "But we can run a correlation among personnel in all of the service branches and see if we can use that to identify any persons of interest. Members of the PKF have certainly had more access to that sector of space than anyone from the Space Navy. As for finding out what the Office is doing, there's not much we can do about it, whether or not it's illegal, immoral, or just plain wrong. We don't have probable cause and they're not officially part of our jurisdiction. So let's get going on something that is." He turned back to work, and he and Goose took up a quiet back-and-forth conversation as they coordinated.

"Keep at the unofficial search, tweaker," Doc commanded softly. "You never know what might turn up."

Searchlight flashed an answer and was gone again.

 

 

 

Doc's quarters, BETA Mountain

2/22, 1927

 

 

Alone in his quarters, Doc danced the net.

Knock knock, Mr. Planetary Security, sir.

Through a back door that had taken days to establish, he slipped onto an old backup mainframe ostensibly owned by the Space Navy. What've we got? He requested a file list and snorted. Empty, my Aunt Sadie's biscuits. A flurry of keystrokes, and a small program came up. Doc watched in satisfaction as, byte by byte, it began recovering deleted files and copying their contents to one of his "bunkers"—triple-encrypted storage on obscure, half-forgotten servers sitting in the depths of BETA Mountain.

"Yeah," Doc said softly. "Come to Papa, all you beautiful scraps of data."

Mining for gold. I'll find you, you son of a—

The comm beeped for attention. Doc flipped his search into the background and brought up a nearly finished case report before answering. "Yeah, this is Doc."

The face of a young man in a tech's uniform formed on screen. "Hi, Ranger Hartford," he said, his tone clearly apologetic. "Sorry to call after hours."

"Bernard, my man! No problem. How's it going?"

"Weird, sort of. We're having this odd problem with the databases, and I've been working on it for almost my whole shift now. I was wondering if there was any way you could—"

"Sure could," Doc answered cheerfully, and opened a new session. "Tell me more."

 

 

 

Series Five Rangers' office

2/24, 1551

 

 

"All right," Zach said, looking around their conference table. "Let's hear summaries of everyone's findings so far. Doc?"

The hacker nodded. Zach noted that he looked a bit tired, as though he'd been getting too little sleep. "We know that BETA's supply of MZ-9 at Longshot is fully accounted for, and Security Chief Da Silva did a hand count to verify for us. Neither the Space Navy nor the Planetary Defense Corps have reported any missing. My unofficial queries have backed that up, but we're still waiting for word on a hand count. The Peacekeeping Forces haven't gotten back to us yet."

"Thank you," Zach said. "Niko?"

"Okay, Zachary," she said with a smile. "The Saoirse was carrying farming equipment and seed for Prairie, and heavy mining equipment, food concentrates, and a small cargo container of luxury items for the asteroid belt out at C-44. The seed and the food concentrates I haven't been able to trace yet. There are signs that the farming equipment may have ended up on the gray market on Tuscaloosa, but I'm still waiting for word back from the local sheriff. The mining equipment is sitting in impound on Mesa while the commander goes round with local law enforcement and also with the sheriff in Fort Windham on Nebraska—the suspect is wanted on smuggling charges there, too, and Commander Walsh is working out who's going to get him first. The luxury items were the easiest to trace, oddly enough—it was mostly midgrade alcohol, and someone tried to relabel it and pass it off as high-grade on Mars, of all places."

"You're kidding," Doc said in disbelief.

"Nope," she answered cheerfully. "Sometimes they really are that stupid."

Goose laughed. "What'd they do, try to sell not-so-fine liquor to a fancy restaurant?"

"Yes!"

He stopped laughing and looked startled. "You're kidding."

Niko burbled with laughter over Doc's quiet, "Hey, my Goose man, that was my line."

"Career criminals they ain't," Goose said. "So the cops there are sweating the fence?"

"Yes, but they're ready to hand over the suspects to BETA at any time," she answered. "It doesn't look like they're behind the attack, though—they both swear up and down that they bought the wine from the fence, and she corroborates their story. I've requested access to question her, but I told the detective in New Pigalle we shouldn't need to talk to the rest unless there are any new developments. The smuggler on Mesa used an anonymous drop—part of a warehouse."

"Dead end?" Zach asked.

"I'm not sure yet. I'll let you know."

"Good work, Niko," Zach said, and nodded to Goose to report for the both of them.

"Zach and I sifted through files on people who might've been able to get access to supplies of MZ-9," Goose said. "We eliminated anyone with a verifiable alibi, which was almost all of 'em, and ran cross-checks for motive and opportunity. We've narrowed it down to about a dozen people—nine PKF and four Space Navy. One of the PKF probably has an alibi, but we haven't been able to confirm it yet. All nine of them are posted out at the Brimstone no-fly zone. The four Navy are still on the list because they are each other's alibis."

"What about cross-checking that with my data?" Niko asked.

"Elma's working on it now."

Zach said, "That's as far as we can take this investigation until Doc and Niko get answers to their inquiries. I don't want to start interrogating suspects until we narrow the field as much as we can first. This case has a lot of potential for stirring up friction between the PKF and Navy and the Ranger Corps, and none of us need that." He pushed his chair back and stood.

"Nice work, people.  Carry on."

Chapter 4

Series Five Rangers' office

2/25, 0809

 

 

"So I've been nosing around for a while, digging up whatever I could on our old friends from the Office of Planetary Security, and I figured you all might like an update." 

Doc's teammates broke off their tasks and stared at him. Niko looked startled, Zachary resigned, and Goose—Goose just looked interested.

Well, that got their attention, Doc noted, exercising all his control not to smirk. He leaned back in his chair, enjoying their reactions, and fiddled with his CDU. "Let's see... Looks like they're doing weapons research, including nanotechnology and biowarfare. They're sponsoring research into ship and drive design—guess they want to build a better warship. And best of all, they're digging up dirt on everyone from the Queen to the Andorian and Kiwi ambassadors." 

"They're spying on our allies?" Zach nearly shouted. "That's disgusting!" 

"Relax, Zach," Goose said quietly. "It's not all that unusual. 'Course, there's no way they'd stand for the Andorians or the Kiwis spying on us." 

"It's an outrage," Zach said just as quietly, his face tight with anger. 

Goose raised his hands in a shrug. "Hey, I never said it was ethical. It stinks, but what are we gonna do, go tell them to stop poking through Waldo's underwear drawer?" 

Doc wrinkled his nose. "I could have lived happily for the rest of my life without ever thinking of Waldo's underwear drawer, my Goose man."

"Doc," Niko put in, "Have you found any more background information about Gaea? And is there any evidence to suggest they're still looking for her?" 

Doc shifted uncomfortably as Goose pinned him to his chair with a cold green look. "I... haven't found anything," he said. "But that doesn't mean there's nothing to find. Don't worry—if there is anything, I'll dig it up eventually."

"What about the technology they used to keep Gaea from sensing them?" Niko asked.

"I thought you said that might just have been stress," Doc protested.

"I said I wasn't sure," Niko countered. "And she said she sensed out her apartment fairly carefully before she went in. It just didn't feel right to me. Her training was incomplete, yes, but she seems—seemed—to be fairly practiced at sensing people. It kept her alive while she lived on the street, if you'll recall."

"Okay, okay..." Doc held up his hands in self-defense. "But no, I haven't found anything. I'll keep an eye out."

"Have you heard anything from the commander about the watch list you generated last August?" asked Zach.

"Uh... Belva told me a couple weeks ago she's still watching fourteen of them. She was able to eliminate a few right off the bat. The next few took a little longer, but none of them is our mole, either. I asked her to get back to me when she'd narrowed the field to under ten people. Just so you know, we're using the codename Earthmover for the list of suspects."

Zachary drew a deep breath and blew it out over Niko's soft groan. 

"What?" Doc asked, all innocence.

"That's a horrible play on words, Doc." But Niko was smiling.

"Thanks!" he answered with a wink.

"Thanks, Doc," said Zach. "Goose is right; there's probably not much we can do about any of it. But it's good to know about it. I'll pass it on to the commander in my next meeting with him." 

"Uh—" Doc licked his lips. "You going to tell him where you got this info?"

Goose snickered. Niko giggled. Zach raised an eyebrow.

"Never mind," Doc said with a sigh. "I should know better by now."

 

 

 

0831

 

 

"Yeah! Throw me a party!"

The other three Rangers looked up from their screens.

"Doc, what on earth," Zach said.

"It's official, my Captain: there's MZ-9 missing from the PKF's stockpile. So we can cross our Space Navy guys off the suspect list."

"Not so fast," Zach said. "It's possible, though not likely, that one of them could be working with one or more of the PKF suspects."

"No, Zach," Goose cut in. "I just finished typing this up: Elma's run the numbers, and the naval officers couldn't have made it out to Brimstone System, then to Mesa or Tuscaloosa—or even Mars, for that matter—and still been on time for duty the next morning. And they did all show up, so they're off the hook."

"That'll make Commander Walsh happy," Zach noted. "He wasn't looking forward to having to tell Admiral Blake that members of his service had done something like this. Niko, have you heard back from the police about the fence in the Mars case?"

"They said the suspect's being transferred here so we can interrogate her. ETA is around 1000, they said. I haven't heard back yet from the sheriff on Tuscaloosa, but he said he'd be able to get back to me by end of day today. And Commander Walsh is working out an extradition deal for the smuggler on Mesa. He said he hopes to have the man here by tomorrow, but that it may be faster for me to fly out there if the sheriff in Fort Windham won't agree to wait. The Nebraska charges are older, so I might just have to go."

BETA Mountain Holding Block, Interrogation Room 3

1345

 

 

Ying Toh. Age 41, unmarried, no children. Possession of stolen property, intent to sell stolen property, transporting stolen property across state lines, conspiracy, network fraud, identity fraud... Four arrests, no convictions.

As Goose might say, what a piece of work.

She looked up from her handheld to study the woman on the other side of the one-way glass. Ying Toh was doing her best to come across as tough and indifferent, but her body language told a different story. She was rather tall for a human of Asian background, nearly as tall as Niko, but with a stockier build that had been let run to a certain thickness about the middle. She wore her black hair in a spacer's crop. Her only claim to attractiveness lay in a pair of bright blue eyes, startling against the light golden skin.

Until her arrest two days ago, Niko noted, Toh's crimes had been handled by local police agencies on Mars. She probably never expected to run afoul of the Rangers, Niko thought. She was small fry and happy to stay that way. It shouldn't be hard to turn that to good account.

Niko let the door of the interrogation room close behind her and stood, arms folded, surveying the woman who sat sullenly behind the table. She let the silence stretch out, just watching as the suspect grew nervous and fidgety.

"Who're you?" the woman finally demanded, and Niko smiled and sat.

"I'm Ranger Niko, Ms. Toh," she said, setting her handheld on the table in front of her. "I have some questions for you."

"I'm not sayin' a word 'til my lawyer gets here."

"That's fine," answered Niko, knowing that the defense lawyer was currently taking the elevator down to the Holding area. She wanted the opportunity to study Toh face to face. This was probably the best chance she'd get to—What's that saying Zach uses? Put the fear of God into her? She let a smile curl up the corners of her lips. Or maybe just the fear of me.

"What's so funny?"

Niko raised her eyes to Toh's and let the smile turn reassuring. "Just a passing thought. Nothing to trouble yourself about." She reached into her belt pocket, pulled out the plastic bag containing Toh's few personal items, and held it up. "Do you recognize these items?"

Toy looked wary, but at length, she nodded.

Niko unsealed the bag. "This is a pretty watch," she said, drawing out an old-fashioned gold pocket watch on a fob chain and setting the bag back down. "It looks old. Was it a gift? A family heirloom, maybe?"

The suspect clenched her jaw but remained silent.

"You may as well tell me. I'm very good at learning about things. You could say they talk to me." Niko held the watch in a cupped palm and dropped her fingers to her badge. She held silent and still, eyes unfocused, letting the images come. "Your father? No... grandfather," she murmured. "When you were very small, he used to hold you on his lap and let you play with it while he told you stories about China. Every night he let you wind it." Niko smiled. "That's a lovely memory," she said sincerely.

Ying Toh pressed back against her chair, her face going pale. "Who—" she said in a voice gone hoarse.

"He left it to you when he died. You had to fight to keep it... your older brother wanted it. It's been through a lot with you, this watch." Niko glanced up at the other woman.

The whites were showing all around Toh's irises. "Where—"

"I told you, things talk to me." Niko smiled and reached into the bag again. "Now, shall I tell you about your ring...?"

 

 

Four and a half minutes later, Ying Toh's defense attorney was admitted to the interrogation room.

Five minutes later, Ying Toh agreed to a plea bargain.

 

 

 

Series Five Rangers' office

1736

 

 

Niko walked into the office, tired and ready to go home. She hadn't expected to see any of her teammates, so the round of applause that greeted her caught her by surprise. She laughed, pleased but embarrassed.

"Fantastic job, Niko," Zach praised her. "That was as fine a use of psychology in interrogation as any I've ever seen."

"Yep, mighty smooth, Niko," said Doc. "Mighty smooth. Too bad they can't teach that method at the Academy. Or, well, no, because can you imagine the embarrassing stories people could get off my keyboard? But that was some job you did."

Goose just gave her a silent thumbs up.

"Thank you, guys," she said, still flushed with pleasure at the praise. "So... do I want to know how many people have seen the vid of that interrogation?"

"Oh, only a few... dozen people," Doc told her blithely. "The OIC down at Holding was so impressed he sent it straight to the commander, who forwarded a copy to Zach, who showed it to my Goose man and me, who just sort of oops-did-I-really-sorryyy sent it to the Tactics and Procedures distribution list for the whole active Ranger Corps—"

Niko's face turned bright pink.

"You've received three phone calls already," Goose said quietly.

"Yeah, and GV couldn't help booping with excitement every time another congratulatory e-mail showed up in your queue," Doc put in. "I've counted twelve boops already."

"GV!" Niko said, a little shocked. "You don't make a habit of that kind of thing, do you?"

"Oh, no, ma'am! But we're just all so pleased for you—"

Niko dropped her face in her hands and groaned. "All? This would be—?"

"Yes, ma'am, all of the BETA AIs who are cleared for information related to criminal investigations," GV answered. "Belva was the first to send a message of congratulations—oh! I'm sorry! The Commander wanted to see you as soon as you got ba—"

"GV! And you only remembered now?"

"Sorry, ma'am—"

The door slid shut behind her. Zach laughed, shaking his head.

"Doc—life is never boring with you around, is it?"

 

 

 

Commander Walsh's office

1749

 

 

"Well done, Ranger Niko. Very well done." Commander Walsh sat back in his chair, folding his hands on his desk. "You should know that the Officer in Charge at Interrogation has already sent me an informal letter of recognition for you. He's only sent me three of those in all the years since BETA was formed."

Niko flushed with happiness again. "Thank you, sir."

Walsh harrumphed. "You've earned it, Lieutenant," he said. "That was a clever use of your psychic abilities. Now I know you haven't had the chance yet to write your report, so I won't keep you for much longer, but I'd like a quick summary of the information you got from the suspect."

"Yes, sir." Niko composed herself and took a moment to prepare. "Ms. Toh confirmed that two men sold her the luxury items, including six bottles of midgrade table wine, five cases of assorted distilled liquors—all midgrade as well—four tins of tobacco, and five kilos of premium chocolate. She provided rough descriptions; in her deposition she said they'd covered their faces. The details will be in my report."

"Nothing else? Did she get a look at their ship?"

Niko shook her head. "No, Commander. She said they brought a small cargo sled from the port."

"Well." Walsh blew out his breath in frustration. "And because there were only two of them, but at least three attackers, we can't cross any PKF names off our list."

"That's right, sir," Niko agreed. "After I question the smuggler on Mesa, I may have more useful data for you."

"All right, Ranger. Dismissed."