Fracture Lines (The Glass Complex Book 2) (38 page)

“Yes, sir,” said Bolls. She turned to the two younger men. “Ser Rodney, Ser Thripp. If you would like, I’ll introduce you to the medical people who’ve been caring for the survivors of the way station attack, and we can go on from there?”

The two men stood. One said, “Certainly, Managing Nurse Bollard. It will be a pleasure.” He turned to Steg. “A pleasure to meet you, sir, even if we have not been formally introduced. You did a good job when you got rid of that hopeless surgeon. I think you’ve done another good job, here.”

Bolls led the two men out of the conference room. The other three people sat still, staring at Steg with mixed expressions of fear and consternation.

“The president is going to hear about this.” The woman in the red hat spat her words out.

Steg shrugged. “I hope so—I’ve been trying to speak with him for over a week.”

She wriggled in her chair. “You don’t realize who—”

“Madam, I’d advise you to sit there and keep quiet.” Steg turned away from the group when an Alliance marine announced his presence at the doorway.

“Sir, you requested assistance?”

“Yes, sergeant. These people are leaving. If they refuse to go with you, restrain them, carry them out, and dump them on the street. Try not to hurt them too much. If you see any media people, you can report they’ve resigned from the hospital board.”

“Yes, sir.” The marine turned to the three ex-board members. “Please come with us. Don’t resist. It would be totally futile, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

There was a soft conversation between the three people at the conference table. The man raised his head and said to the marine, “Very well. We’ll come with you,” He turned to Steg. “You certainly haven’t heard the last of this, whoever you are.”

Steg watched as the small group left the conference room. He didn’t seem to be making many friends, he thought. That reminded him, he should try to contact the president or his aide. On reflection, he decided, dealing with civilians was more frustrating than he expected it to be.

Neither person responded to his comlinks. Steg headed to the hospital lobby—he might be able to utilize the media presence. At least, he thought, it was worth exploring.

Now there were two media groups at the entrance to the lobby, their entry further into the hospital building still restrained by the efforts of Corporal Stark. Steg thought the hospital security guards were assisting the mercenary. He walked towards the top of the stairs that led to the street. The blond reporter recognized him and leapt into action; the second reporter was quick to follow.

“Sir. Captain. You are the captain, aren’t you?” She held a microphone close to his face. Steg had dropped his visor back down.

“I am a captain. I command a small force of mercenaries.”

“Captain, can you lift your visor? Our viewers would like to see your face.”

Steg did not move. He said, “We need armor for protection.”

“Protection? Why do you need protection?”

“A week or more ago the Eos Way Station was attacked by aliens. We don’t yet know how many people have perished. The death toll may be closer to three thousand or more. We’ll never have an accurate number because so many station personnel have been lost to space. Our search and rescue efforts have recovered about six hundred people with light injuries and another five hundred or so requiring hospital treatment. That’s why we’re at the hospital—some of the injuries suffered by the survivors are serious, requiring care beyond that which we could provide.” He shrugged. “Who’s to say we won’t be attacked here?”

“Sir, where are you getting these details? Our government has not confirmed any of this.”

“As I said, we’re carrying out S and R—search and rescue—operations. You need to ask your government why they’re not involved. I have no other answer for you.”

“We’ve tried to contact our way station—there’s no answer. Have you cut off communications?” The interviewer’s voice was accusatory.

“The attack by the aliens destroyed a lot of infrastructure. We’ve made sure the repair bots are working. We’re still hopeful we’ll find some of the station employees. We have not touched station communications.”

“What about our Space Navy? Are they leading these—S and R—efforts?”

“Two Eos frigates were destroyed in the alien attack. As I said, no one—no one—from your various government departments is helping us. We don’t know why this is so—surely you should be asking your government for answers?”

“Captain, who is ‘us’. Exactly who are you?”

“When I say ‘us’ or ‘we’, I’m referring to an Alliance destroyer and a licensed mercenary starship and the crew of both.”

“You’ve landed here in shuttles with a force of marines—to what purpose?”

“I think if you check, and as I’ve said, you’ll discover we’ve brought injured station personnel to the hospital for urgent treatment. Our marines are for the safety of the patients and of course, to guard our shuttles.” He turned his face towards the camera lens. “Earlier, I gave you four questions, the answers of which would help you understand why we are here. Have you asked anyone those questions?”

“No.”

“Why not? I thought you said you’re a reporter?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Yet you haven’t done your research? Go and ask those questions. Interview government officials. Be professional.”

The reporter made cutting signals to her cameraman who was cheerfully ignoring her. The second reporter and cameraman had ensured they captured the questions posed by the first reporter, and everything Steg had said in response.

Steg concluded, “That’s all. You can leave the hospital, now.”

“Captain, I haven’t asked all my questions—why did you dismiss the hospital board—why did you—?”

Steg looked at each of the two reporters before making his next comment. “Do your research. I’ll give my next interview—far more detailed—to whoever of you has asked the questions I raised and who has broadcast the answers. Thank you.”

Steg stepped back into the interior of the hospital. He hoped he had stirred enough to get the attention of the president’s office or whoever held power on Eos. It was, he thought, an odd situation. He was about to follow the red line when a man stepped out of the shadows and spoke to him.

“My name’s Bedwyr, Oskar Bedwyr. Two weeks ago I shipped twenty tons of Joy to the way station—what the frek have you done with it?”

There was a struggle in the background that distracted Steg from the stranger and his question. Two men were holding Stacia, and she was attempting to free herself. One of the men raised his fist and struck her face. Almost immediately, two shots rang out and both men fell to the ground. Steg assumed they were dead. He heard Finch swearing in most unFainlike language.

“Sorry, Stace,” she said. She dropped her weapon and rushed to support her friend. They hugged each other, both trying not to weep.

Steg had immediately pointed his weapon at the man standing in front of him. After he assured himself there was no other threat, and Stacia was apparently unharmed, he said, “Bedwyr, you’re under arrest. Try to escape and I’ll have no compunctions about shooting you, understand?”

Bedwyr was stunned by the sudden and deadly attack on his two men and by the loss of his leverage. He raised his arms. “I’m not resisting arrest, yeah. I challenge your authority to do this.”

“Let me be clear—I have all the authority I need.” He tapped his weapon. “Your men were assaulting one of my team. Your employees, I daresay.”

The man shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. I had no idea they were holding your associate.”

“I know an Alliance skipper who’d like to have a talk with you. I think you’ll be visiting the way station with us. We’ll also find out more about this missing shipment you mentioned.”

Bedwyr paled. “No—no, let’s talk like sensible people. I can pay you whatever you want.”

Steg struggled to keep his expression bland. “Finch, Stacia. Ser Bedwyr wants to bribe me. What do you think?”

“Stand back, and I’ll shoot him for you,” suggested Finch, recovering her weapon.

Steg raised his hand. “No, too easy. Stacia, do you have a scalpel handy?”

Stacia smiled. She said. “Oh, I think we can do better than that. I heard you mention handing him over to the Alliance people—that has my vote.”

Finch said, “Yes, it’s the only way to go.”

Steg comlinked Riddell. “Sergeant, I have one more task for you.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve shot up another building?”

“No, it was Finch who did the shooting, this time. A couple of local thugs grabbed Stacia, to use her as leverage. There’s two bodies that need to be moved to the hospital morgue. Can you let the local police know?”

“Yes, sir. Tell Finch well done, sir.”

“I will. I need some Alliance Marines, too. I’ve arrested one of the rebel leaders, Oskar Bedwyr, and I’m sure Captain Montrose will want to talk to him.”

“Men on the way, sir.”

Steg authorized the first hospital shuttle, with Oskar Bedwyr on board, to return for more patients, and it departed three or four minutes before the second shuttle arrived. Major Carter led the marines off and headed towards Steg who was waiting at the side of the park. Hospital staff were ready with gurneys and began to offload patients. They had developed an efficient process and soon had a stream of loaded gurneys rapidly moving into the hospital.

“I hear you’ve been destroying major buildings,” Carter commented.

“Only ugly statues,” Steg refuted. “You can let Riddell and your marines look after the unloading. I’m spending most of my time in the lobby—interesting things happen there.” He led the way towards the hospital entrance as he spoke. “I arrested Bedwyr and he’s on his way to the way station—will you let Montrose know? He can arrange to collect him.”

“Sure. He’ll be interested. What happened?”

“Two of his men grabbed Stacia to use as protection. One of them tried to hit her. Finch didn’t waste any pity—she shot both thugs. Fortunately, she left Bedwyr alive. Apparently, he thinks I’ve got my hands on a shipment of twenty tons of his Joy product. Or at least he lost track of it after he shipped it up to the station.”

Carter whistled. “They’re not small time, huh? That’s what—a street value of twenty million credits, at least?”

“More, if it’s pure.”

“So we need to search for this shipment, too?”

Steg shook his head. “We’ll never know if it’s been destroyed, blasted out to space, or hidden in someone’s warehouse—or, by now, it’s on one of the freighters undergoing repairs.”

“Montrose will go berserk until we find it.”

“I can imagine. I can guess what your focus will be.”

“No, not until we complete this S and R.”

A link from Sergeant Riddell interrupted the conversation. “Sir, there’s a line of vehicles, military, heading your way. We counted three command vehicles, twenty troop carriers, and a dozen or so supply vehicles. Estimate fifteen or so troops per carrier. The convoy has reached the park area. They’re ignoring us. Infantry, basic weapons, no armor. They’re the local President’s Guard, I understand. Do you want me to send some men?”

“No, stand by, I’ll let you know if I need anyone.” Steg surmised a dozen or so mercenaries would not prevail against a force of three or four hundred local soldiers.

Apparently Carter had received a similar message from his marines. He said, “Have you upset the locals some more?”

“Hmm. Only here, in the hospital. Well, I did shoot that damned ugly statue off the top of the President’s Palace.” He shrugged. “Let’s see what they want.”

Steg and the Alliance major watched as the vehicles parked in rows along the road in front of the hospital building. Three men alighted from the second command vehicle—two were in uniforms while the third man was in civilian dress—and headed to the hospital entrance. The civilian was a step ahead.

The three men stopped at the top of the stairs, and the civilian examined both Steg and Major Carter. He said, “You’re both offworlders, and while you have an Alliance flag, you,” he addressed Steg, “are likely to be Captain de Coeur. Am I correct?”

Steg lifted his visor. He noted Carter copied him. “Yes, I’m de Coeur. What can we do for you?”

“We’ve spoken. I’m the president’s aide. Well, the ex-president, yeah. I don’t think I formally introduced myself—I’m Robert Murray. I’d like you to meet General David Colyer and Colonel Evan Fortier, of the President’s Guard.”

Steg returned the courtesy. “I’m Steg de Coeur, mercenary captain. This is Major Tonyn Carter, Alliance Marines.”

“Sirs, is there a meeting room we can use?” General Colyer asked.

“Certainly. There’s a conference room, I think I can find it again. Follow me.” Steg led the way into the hospital building.

Fortunately the conference room was unoccupied, and they were settled in minutes. On the way, Steg had comlinked to Sergeant Velez and said, “Sergeant, I’m heading to the conference room we used with the hospital board. I’m with Major Carter and three Eos officials, two of them military. Any chance of coffee, perhaps something to eat? Do you think your receptionist person could help us?”

“I’ll send her with coffee, and she’ll be able to organize food, I’m sure,” Velez replied. “Eos military? Maybe they didn’t like you shooting down the President’s Palace?”

“You’re as bad as Finch.”

He turned his attention to the men seated around the table. “Coffee is on the way. Now, General, what can we do for you?”

“It might be the other way, Captain.” The general checked silently with Murray, who nodded. He continued, “There’s been some changes in our political structure. The president—er—has resigned. Ser Murray is acting president
pro tempore
until we can hold elections. We planned to contact you earlier but wanted to wipe out a nest of rebels—you knew of them, yeah. We eliminated that problem yesterday. We’ve the satisfaction of achieving a victory there, as small as it might be. We have two items to discuss with you. One is your search and rescue—we want to help, and my men are available to ship up to the way station today, if you can arrange transport. The second is the arrangement you discussed with Ser Murray, of
Wasp
providing Eos system and station security. Do you have time for these discussions?”